#*wailing* MY SWEET MONKEYS

[imminent-danger-came]

Macaque: "No that's you! You're the one always running off! Looking for more power or more sources of immortality—you're the one who wouldn't quit while we were ahead!"

In a moment of "I'm getting really sad about Macaque and MK parallels", I just keep thinking about how all MK's wanted to do was quit while they were ahead, but he hasn't been able too. He's been pushed and pushed and pushed at every turn. His journey "is just beginning", and "forever's a long time"—there's been no choice for things to stay the same. I wonder if truly Wukong had a choice either. "You ever wish things will just stay like this, like they are right now?" "Psshhhkkk where's the fun in that?"

[evilminji]

Been Watching Weird Fruit Explorer(?)... and I just...

W-Who let Bored Danny have BooTube?

Sorry, YOU-Tube. He has TWO Apps now. BooTube is bigger. Way more random, yet... somehow more niche? Meh. It's what happens when you get billions of billions of people who all have their own Obsessions to rant over, on a site.

Ember's channel is pretty lit, tho, ngl.

He stopped using YOU-Tube almost overnight. Too many ads, weird algorithmic pushiness. No thanks. It was too small and too "trying to take my money". You know?

Buuuuut? See.... TUCKER is the Tech guy.

Coding and that sort of stuff. HE does hands on work. You want a toaster? He can MAKE you a toaster! With LAZERS! Runs off The Goo! But a program? Eeeeeeeh? Hit it with hammer maybe? Monkey make fire? Hit with stick? Blergh.

Yeah, he can SORTA push through.

But he suuuucks.

And like... he had a headache, okay? His project had just, quiet literally, exploded in his face. So when he looked at his phone? All the apps were blobs. He clicked the one that LOOKED kinda right. Shoved his arm in his phone and brute forced a channel set up.

He figured he could ramble about Space!

It's not like he cared is anyone LISTENS or not! It's a "for him" thing, you know? Like a diary. But more... putting on a ☆~show~☆?

So he rambles from the floor of his Lair's Lab, crashs and wails in the distance, green sky occasionally visible as he lazily floats by windows. Dropping... juuuust past human knowledge understanding of Space. Talking like he's STUDYING somewhere. Referencing PAPERS no human will ever be able to find.

But a few they WILL.

Some of which, are currently? Only half written.

But then? Oh YEAH... he should eat! You know... Sam keeps bringing him fruits and veggies and stuff from her internship at that Botanical Lair. Stuff never seen before of Earth. Or hasn't been seen in centuries.

Again, like, a FEW that? Randomly? Have???

He picks up something sharply purple, bright orange insides. Crisp crunch. He makes a face. And starts to ramble about it, distracted from Space. "Weirdly mushroom-y" he notes. "Kinda bubblegum sweet? But like... CHEAP bubblegum. Like it hits you all at once and is kinda chemically. But it disappears real fast? Huh. Spicy too..."

It's the first video on the Playlist. One of hundreds. Two of the green Lanterns RECONIZE that fruit ad HIGHLY toxic to humans, can't recognize what planet they're seeing. Or how this alien teen got himself on YouTube.

He seems... unaware of how incredibly famous he's become.

But his strange techno Pharoah friend has not. HE is both perfectly aware and apparently amused. Has taken to feeding him rare and hazardous flora and fauna, to see if it tastes good.

....there have been an alarming number of plants from dead planets.

And the comments the kid makes? Alarming as hell.

Sam's just pleased everybody's getting their greens. Danny's glad him n tuck get to hang and do "try weird foods and fuck around, bro time". They've made lazers! Talked about stuff! Debated why Martian Manhunter is THE superior Justice League member.

Danny understands. Wonder Woman is a BAMF. But he's biased, Tucker. He doesn't CARE if she has a sword and flowy, impressive locks! Shape-shifting telepath! From MARS!!! *imaginary mic drop*

And Tucker? Is conquering the YouTube scene with this charming, weird, relatable young alien. Who rambles about Space, debates nerd stuff, eats weird plants and describes them, and makes sci-fi technology! Theme? WHAT THEME? Phantom is a weird channel, man. You never know what you'll find!

And no one can get rid of it.

Believe them, governments have TRIED. Censorship? Not possible. Not without removing the whole SITE.

[sabos-husband]

Hi! was hoping for a request (this might get really specific) reader as a strawhat member who grew up with luffy (by extension also ace and sabo) back in foosha village, but actually used to be a slave for the celestial dragons before she arrived there, maybe never told luffy because in her mind, luffy was the epitome of freedom and she was ashamed of her past. The scenario I had in mind for the reveal was maybe in the middle of battle, her clothes gets torn and her mark is seen, maybe some strawhats have an idea of that mark is (maybe jinbei, robin and alike) while others don't (ussop? maybe?), while making the enemies ridicule her and how the strawhats react, but you can choose another scene that you think are more fitting! i just wanted to see how you'd write luffy because i love your writing style! the way you write flows perfectly and it's never out of character, you're my current fav writer on tumblr! so thank you!

★ Around the World

Monkey D. Luffy and Reader ★

Fishman Island Spoilers!! ~ Straw Hat!Reader ~ Feminine Reader (she/her) ~ Hurt/Comfort

a/n: Aww, that's so sweet of you! I appreciate that so much! Specific asks are wonderful, it makes it easier to write something as close as possible to what you want. Thank you for the request <3 I put the majority of this between Fishman Island and Punk Hazard, but there aren't major spoilers. Sorry this took a while!

As well, there's description of the reader's history with slavery and the trauma that came from that. I left it vague for the most part, though.

For so much of your life, Luffy's been a constant. Even when you ran around Gray Terminal with Sabo and Ace, terrorizing all the people you could find for all the money you could grab, Luffy wasn't far behind for most of it. It took the Bluejam Pirates torturing Luffy for hours before his loyalty dawned on the three of you.

It then took Bluejam setting fire to Gray Terminal for you to truly consider Luffy special.

When Sabo took to the sea, swallowed by flame, you held Luffy tight as he wailed. When Ace left for the sea, aided by nothing but a burlap sack on his shoulder and the wind in his sails, Luffy had promised he would follow. When Luffy left for the sea, you were there, standing by his side. His very own first mate, meant to weather the Grand Line by his side.

You hoped with all your heart it'd stay that way. You hoped that it was all he'd know about you—you, his first mate, with nothing else of her past beyond the Grey Terminal's walls and Foosha Village's people.

Of course, nothing you want ever comes so simply.

You can still remember the shrieks of laughter that burst from Luffy as you both clambered into barrels—it made sense that he would wind up into trouble on the sea, but the first day takes the cake!

Your life has been non-stop ever since. From the very moment you both step foot on Shells Town with Koby in tow, the crew grew and grew to numbers that made your pride in Luffy bloom.

Zoro was tough with a sword and reliable when you need him, but his difficulty with directions always made your head spin. Nami was quick with her hands and quicker with her mind, just like how she could never stand to let a Berri slip by. Usopp was sharp as a tack with his constant innovations and steady sharpshooting, even when he ran at ten knots an hour away from danger. Sanji was nothing short of a first-rate chef and one of the strongest men you knew, despite how often he lost himself in the wild pursuit of women.

Then there came the Grand Line. It brought Chopper, Robin, Franky, Brook, Jinbei; thinking about the people Luffy drew to himself never failed to bring a smile to your lips. It's not like you could ever speak against them for their affection towards the captain—it's what brought you away from the safety of Foosha Village as well, skirting past the World Government you hated and feared for all your life.

It's like second nature, how much you love Luffy. Every single one of you would give anything for your captain.

"Anything" changes for you sometimes, though. Late into the night, long after the moon took its place in the sky, you wrestled with the dark. Could you keep this secret from your captain? From Luffy, the person you've known all your life?

(No, you'd remind yourself, not all your life.)

You think of the little boy you grew up alongside with, with a smile so bright you had to shield your eyes. The wind whipping his hair and threatening to carry away his straw hat as he lights up with laughter. You think of how your captain looks at you with the stars in his eyes, declaring that he will be the next King of the Pirates, and you believe him with all your heart.

Even after Ace died, his flames swallowed up in magma, you were there two years later. Luffy had gone through hell and back with you—couldn't that be enough?

It was thoughts like those that kept your secrets to yourself.

It was some foolish, childish part of you that thought you could have kept it up forever.

~

The day was as usual. It was nice, even. You had just finished helping Sanji with the groceries—to his chagrin, of course.

As much as he adores your company, he detests making such a sweet lady do manual labor for him, and he lets you know. Often. It was charming for the first while, but by the time you help Sanji put away the groceries, you're just glad it's over with.

The snack he rewards you after with, though, makes you sure that you'll help him next time. After he waves you off to begin lunch prep, you're quick to escape back to the docks.

You have some time to kill, you think. It's the last stretch until the log pose is finished setting and you've sort of lost track of the group... Thinking back, Zoro and Usopp got tied together, so you don't have to worry about searching for the poor swordsman. Nami stole Chopper to carry the clothes she was planning to get with Robin, while Brook and Franky were the ones assigned to watch the ship. That just leaves you with... Oh, seas.

There's a burst of screams that tear through the town's square, punctuated by a shriek of excited, almost maniacal laughter.

You're missing Luffy.

You're off like a shot towards the commotion before you can even think, weaving and pushing your way past the people. The crowd thickens as civilians shove past you. It's like swimming up river, but with every step you take, that familiar laughter gets closer.

When you finally burst from the mob, your feet catch on an unconscious marine. You stumble forward.

It's like breaking through a shield into a bubble—a ring of civilians gather to enclose Luffy as he's circled by marines, too duty-bound to flee but too cautious to fight.

Your captain hasn't put nearly as much thought into his approach. He barrels fists-first into the nearest hoard; the soldiers go flying like playing cards against a cannon. Sure it's charming, but he was supposed to be on board the Sunny, like, a hour ago.

So, Luffy deciding to gather the marines?

It sure isn't ideal.

Gathering your courage and tossing aside your exhaustion, you steel your nerves to storm the castle and extract your captain. And speak of the devil; Luffy whips his head around to stare at you.

"Oh! Hey!!" Luffy yells, with just a bit of manic glee. Great. You step forward—

—And a marine steps in your way. Really great.

As you fall into your fighting stance, you watch your captain dart from view. Well, whatever. You'll find him after you kick this guy's ass.

The marine wielded an odd weapon, like brass knuckles with claws soldered onto the palm. He hadn't bothered to clean the last victim's blood from it, and if the rust near the joints were to tell you anything, it was clear that he neglected to clean the blood of anyone from the weapon.

It feels like a warning.

It feels like a trophy.

Your captain rockets past him without a second thought (it's unlikely there was ever a first thought) to explode into another group of soldiers. It's like dynamite dropped in a haystack, the way navy officers go flying here and there.

The marine's eyes fall on you.

You can barely remember the fight afterwards, shamefully. You remember how it starts though.

He lunges at you with the speed of an animal, his clawed hands outstretched to sink into your flesh.

You dodge, he pivots, you aim to strike before he finds his footing—every move you make is to drive you closer to Luffy so you can cut and run.

Your mindlessness makes you sloppy. You don't even notice the way you're babying your secret, cradling it away from the fight. Of course that fucking marine notices.

Seas, you don't even know this marine's name, and yet he could still read you like a fucking book.

It's your last mistake.

When he slips to the side, too close for comfort, you jump back. His hand raises to tear out your eyes.

You raise your arms to guard, falling for the feint—the marine weaves past you, bearing his claws, and digs into your flesh.

It's over before you can even feel the pain.

You barely hold back a yell as you leap back, clutching your body. Warm blood trickles down the strike until it stained your clothes, sending panic shooting up your spine.

Like a curse from whatever gods left, that damn marine had struck you where you were weakest. There wasn't any time—by the time you whip around to clutch the wound, to hide your shame, it was too late.

"That pirate! She's... branded!"

A chorus of gasps tear through the crowd like a terrible symphony. You cling to the ribbons of your ruined attire like it could still save you.

Shadows claw at your vision as you struggle to breathe. Warm blood trickles down your limbs and your mark aches with a fresh, searing pain—it's grown with you, stretching over your skin in a reminder you can only try to forget.

You hear Robin gasp like she was struck herself. Oh seas, when did she arrive? You want to tuck yourself into a ball and hide from the prying eyes boring into your skin. You're sure she understands, if only because she shares your terror of who gave you this cross to bear, but it scares you. Somewhere, Usopp murmurs to her, "what is that?"

They know. They know.

The marine barks out in a fit of laughter, teeth bared and fingers curled around his claws. "What the hell is Straw Hat doing with government property?"

You think of Foosha Village, dodging your family and bathing in the river at night. You think of the clothes you had to give Makino back, too ridden by fear to wear them.

You think of your crew, sleeping soundly while you were working up the nerve to change your clothes in the dark. You think of Nami, with her skin graft and her new tattoo and the jealousy so strong you choke on it every time you see it. You think of how no one knows what was before that pinwheel tattoo except for the people she wants to know.

You think of your captain. You think of Luffy.

Oh seas, Luffy.

Tears cloud your eyes as you struggle to breathe. When you turn to your captain, you can barely see him—your vision swims, revealing splotches of color you'd recognize anywhere.

His haki rolls off in waves, so suffocating you can taste his rage on the back of your tongue. You see soldiers buckle and civilians collapse.

Your words escape before you can even think.

"Luffy, help...!"

A fist rockets past you. The sound of crunching bone hits you as air whips your cheeks. A mangled yell of pain is the last thing you hear from the marine.

"She doesn't," your captain growls, "belong to anybody."

~

You're brought into the medbay as soon as the Sunny left the docks. The silence is suffocating. You could barely look at Chopper as you shed your clothes, letting it slip until your shame was bare.

If you could guess, you'd bet it was nothing but professional courtesy that's keeping Chopper from reacting. That fucking mark takes up almost the entirety of the flesh, like a wound that can never heal.

The young doctor is kind when he cleans the blood. His touch hovers above your laceration when you hiss and tense. He's patient too, only continuing his work when you allow him to.

You hate this. Seas, you fucking hate this. You slump forward when Chopper continues his work.

You both pretend to not notice the tears that fall.

When he backs away, wound cleaned and bandaged, you don't turn to look him in the eye. You just turn your head and nod at Chopper.

The doctor straightens up like he always does after he works, but there's a new nervousness to him. His hooves are pressed together, like he's trying to quell the shaking. It makes you grit your teeth.

"The wound isn't bad," he says quickly, "but you'll need to rest. As for t-the rest, I couldn't..."

You nod. "Thanks, Chopper. You don't have to worry about... that. You're the best."

You watch the tension evaporate as he grins at you, leaning side to side. "That doesn't make me happy, you bastard!" He giggles, spinning. He sways a bit longer before he tamps it down, clearing his throat.

"But," he says clearly, "you can talk about it—"

"—Chopper—" you try to say.

"—Listen! It's important!" Chopper stands straighter like it'll give him the confidence his next words demand. "I-If you don't want to talk about it to me, it's okay. But... you should talk to someone. Nami, or Robin, or maybe- maybe if we call Jinbei, he would understand—"

"Chopper," you cut through. It hurts your heart to see the young doctor wilt. "It's okay. Thank you, but I'm alright."

"Okay... But- consider it? Please?"

You look away. "I will," you murmur.

Even though you don't see his face, you know Chopper knows you're lying. You know he won't push you farther, though. He hops down off his stool, shucks off his doctor's coat, and offers you the spare clothes Nami had lent you. She was kind enough to waive the fee this time too. You can't find it in you to appreciate it.

Chopper turns away as you get dressed again, which makes you smile. It makes you feel like you have some control again.

(You can't help but study your bandages. They're wrapped snug around you, but the edges of the brand sticks out like a hand print seared into your skin. You can still see the three pointed claws under the stark white of gauze.

It's the first time in a while you've really observed it. Every other time you forced yourself to look, all you could see was the red-hot brand and the wicked smiles of the demons who held it.

It's just as ugly as you remember.

You wish you had killed that marine, even if it wouldn't have changed anything.)

When you finish getting dressed, you signal to Chopper. He turns around, offers you a smile too bittersweet for someone of his youth, and reaches for the door.

"Oh, Luffy," Chopper comments idly. You can't stop how you flinch at the sound of his name.

You were dreading seeing him. It makes you want to cry again; how long has it been since you've dreaded being near Luffy?

The ringing in your ears swallow up the gentle words Chopper offers. Your bandages crush your ribs as you try to breathe—there isn't enough air, like that fucking marine took it all when he- when he—

The hands on your face smell like sun-warmed rubber. It's hard to say they're cradling your face, when Luffy just smacked his palms against your cheeks and squished them together until you were looking at him. When you blink, he blinks back at you.

"Are you there?" Luffy asks simply.

"Um, y-yes Captain," you force out. He nods thoughtfully.

Though, Captain isn't the right moniker. You aren't talking to isn't Captain Monkey D. Luffy, world-renowned Worst Generation pirate, capable of toppling kingdoms and challenging the World Government, feared by the powerful and adored by the powerless.

No, the boy in front of you is simply Luffy. The Luffy you've cherished since you were small, with a smile so bright and a heart so full—for all your life, you've never known how you got so lucky to have him.

Luffy pushes you to sit before he flops down next to you, bobbing with the mattress springing under his weight. You avoid his eye.

"You have something," Luffy states simply. It isn't a question, nor an accusation. It makes you flinch regardless—through all your tears, you can barely see the way your hands ball into fists in your lap.

He waits until you can find your words once again. It's kinder than you deserve.

"D-Do you- want to see it?"

"I don't care." Luffy just sort of... tilts his head at you. "I want to see you."

It's such a simple sentiment. It makes you feel like you've swallowed a thousand blades.

"I'm-... I didn't- I'm sorry, Luffy," you force out. The nails you dig into the stark white gauze don't put any pressure into the skin below it. Luffy frowns anyways.

"You can't apologize," he states simply. "You don't have to."

"But I- I lied—"

"It's okay." Luffy kicks his feet out. "I know you. I don't care about the rest."

All your words slip from your mind. If Luffy minds the silence, he doesn't show it.

Shame floods your chest. All these years hiding your past, unraveled just like that. You stare at your lap.

"They," you admit softly, "had me for so long. I- I never thought I'd be free."

He doesn't respond. You don't need him to—the words rush out before you can think. You stare into your open hands.

"W-When I escaped, I promised myself something. I said, they'll never control me ever again. But- I just... I've always been so scared! It's like- It's like I never even left—"

"Sabo is dead," Luffy says suddenly. "Ace is dead."

When Luffy looks forward, it isn't at Chopper's desk. It isn't at the medicine scattered along its surface, nor is it the kit the doctor had used to patch up your wounds. No—Luffy's gaze pierces farther, looking past the desk and the ship and the sea.

When Luffy looks forward, it's into the fire he left behind.

"But you aren't. You escaped. You're here with me."

Even without words, you understand. You can see the fire, too. "I am."

"You're not theirs anymore. You're mine," Luffy says just as suddenly, "but you aren't mine."

You don't respond. You wouldn't know how even if you tried.

Luffy turns to you with the same inferno that swallowed up your shared home. "You're my crew. You're my first mate. But I don't own you. No one does. That brand doesn't mean anything."

Before you can gather your thoughts, you feel Luffy's hand press his straw hat into your lap. It feels as warm as the sun he had been standing in just moments before. Luffy grabs at your hands to wrap them around its brim.

"You don't belong to anybody."

You could cry.

Luffy shakes your shared hold. "Say it."

"I-I..." You sniffle, "I don't..."

Luffy's eyes don't look away from you. They aren't mean, nor are they worried—they're fierce, just as sure of your power as they were the day he met you.

"I don't," you say finally, "belong to anybody."

When you collapse into his arms, shaking with every sob that wracks through your body, there is no shame when his hands brush over your mark. All you feel is warmth as he pulls you tighter.

You're not property. You're free.

You're a pirate—and no one is freer than a pirate.

[triscribe]

I'm tagging @sroloc--elbisivni with this, being the person directly if unintentionally responsible for my recent descent into madness, aka the One Piece Fandom.

I've so far managed to percolate three story ideas.

First is a short and sweet wingfic, in which all the various Will of D folks get wings to go along with the name. Some plain, some colorful, some big, some small, it's a mixed bag. My one and only certainty for who gets what kind of bird-association is Garp + turkey, as I've been socked in the jaw by one of those before, and believe me those suckers pack a lot of muscle in their limbs.

Anywho. Recall that scene where young Sabo makes a comment about Monkey D. Luffy, and Portgas D. Ace? And it's all innocent laughter when the Sa D. Bo joke gets made, but there is an earnest "because you're our brother" emotion running underneath? Well, guess who wakes up the next morning with the itchiest shoulders ever, and by lunchtime is sprouting his own little pair of fledgling wings. ASL Brother feels all the way around.

My other two ideas are... significantly more ambitious.

Also slightly spoiler-y, if you aren't up to date on things, so we'll continue this under a cut:

Idea the first: Major Canon Divergence, making use of the recently revealed Figarland Shamrock, because I can't not jump on the boat of Luffy seeing him and momentarily mistaking the man for Shanks.

Except this happens when he's still fairly little.

And it's quite a thing, to be a Celestial Dragon used to fawning or terror or simple obedience from the lower masses, who for a brief moment happens to make eye contact with a little slip of a boy being put up for sale as a slave, only to be promptly hit by a beaming expression as bright as the very sun itself. Just for a moment, before someone cuffs Luffy on the ear or shoves his head back down, but it's more than enough to catch Shamrock's surprised attention. And of course, the first moment he's able, Luffy goes darting up to this man delightedly hooting I knew you'd come save me! Emotions overtake any form of logic. Shamrock decides he's keeping this one. And it isn't until later, maybe minutes, maybe hours, before his cloak shifts and his left arm is revealed, and it suddenly hits Luffy that oh. This isn't Shanks playing dress up and fooling everyone. Oops?

I've yet to make a firm decision on exact circumstances and timing, but this is definitely after Sabo's (presumed) death. Ace throws one hell of a conniption fit and immediately launches into a rescue effort, managing to steal a boat and make it off Dawn Island. One furious pre-teen isn't quite enough to take on the whole world, though, no matter how desperate he is - so it's just as well Ace happens to cross paths with the Revolutionary Army, and in particular one Monkey D. Dragon, and even more in particular the scarred blonde boy who's been learning at his knee for a while now.

Shanks is eventually drawn into things, as well as Garp, who nearly had a heart attack when he realized both of his grandsons went missing and needed to be retrieved, and no it doesn't help to know that one(-actually-make-that-two) are with his son, the most wanted man in the world!

I can picture quite clearly in my mind a bold confrontation via Shanks and a sneaky infiltration via Ace and Sabo culminating in a daring escape via everyone else, with Luffy very happy to be away from the Shanks-imposter, wailing about it afterward at top volume while insisting no he isn't crying. Lots of hugs all around. Lots of arguments, too, while the adults try to decide what is and isn't best for the boys and their safety going forward, but that's another matter.

And of course I wouldn't be me if I weren't also drumming up a big Everyone Goes Back in Time fic.

I'm leaning towards the idea of a Memory Maelstrom, a fierce storm that spins up anytime it likes, anywhere along the Grand Line; possibly caused by some remnant of the Void Century, hence very little in the way of concrete knowledge from either ancient records or modern day studies. What is known is that anyone who sails into the Maelstrom may find themselves waking up somewhere else entirely, some time else entirely. Be it a few days, perhaps a few weeks, but with memories leading up to entering the storm - which then leaves them with opportunities to change things. Sometimes it only affects a single person; sometimes entire crews awaken with advance knowledge, and use it for good or ill. The only certain thing is, a person affected by the Maelstrom once will never be able to find it again.

Now, anyone with the Will of D gets caught up in the Maelstrom? Amplification occurs. Days or weeks can become months or years; entire crews being affected can extend to entire fleets. History can be altered not just for an individual, but for the whole world.

An ailing Gol D. Roger who never turned himself over to the Marines once sailed into the Maelstrom, fleeing pursuers with a damaged ship, the blood of half his crew still drying upon the planks, including teenage Shanks who died trying to protect toddler Ace. The storm worked its power. A different path was chosen.

Another time, a version of Monkey D. Dragon who kept Luffy close, raising him in the heart of the Revolution, also sailed into the Maelstrom - intentionally, with a small cold body cradled in his arms. Again, new choices became possible.

This time?

This time the Thousand Sunny is caught up by the storm, along with multiple other ships and crews, all of them more focused on battling each other than the howling wind and oddly colored lighting.

It turns out that Gear 5 induces an even bigger amplification effect than usual.

Over thirteen years in the past, a lot of people wake up, and immediately groan Luffy's name. After which there's a mad scramble to fight, to save, to rescue, to steal, and especially to change.

Various Straw Hat Pirates are back to being children, and either prepare for incoming tragedy or do their best to prevent it. Trafalgar Law gets to keep his Cora-san alive, before taking steps to gather up his crew again. Koby finds himself back on Alvida's ship, thankfully docked at a port, and hightails it either to Garp and the marines or somewhere he expects Luffy to eventually appear.

And speaking of Luffy: he promptly goes tearing off across Dawn Island, and crashes into a very startled Ace, just before Sabo appears coming from the opposite direction. I've decided that For Reasons (namely Luffy being the one to amplify the Maelstrom and Sabo having been in possession of the Devil Fruit that prior was wielded by his brother), the longer he spends in the company of the other boys, the more Ace dreams of the life he'd lived, and the faster he rebuilds a bond Luffy and Sabo have both dearly missed.

(Shanks gets to keep the arm, at least for now. Trade-off being he also gets all three brothers attempting to commandeer his ship in order to go find their respective people and start changing even more things. He'll probably give in about the time some high level pirate shows up looking to murder pre-Straw Hat Captain Luffy.)

SO. Those are my thoughts! We'll see if I actually manage to write any of 'em this century x'D

[writeyouin]

LMK shadowpeach x foreign fem reader? Its readers first Christmas in China and wants to spend it with the monkeys! Got them a Christmas gift too that’s fitting for the three of them. For some cute fluff, she made some delicious treats from her home country (I probably would make them fry bread or fruit related sweets of the sort)

Sun Wukong X Macaque X Reader (Poly-Shadowpeach) – Chinese Christmas

A/N – So this went a myriad of ways in my head and I kept changing it, and now it’s super different to what I first thought was going to happen. Anyway, here’s the end result, and I got to do some cool research on Christmas in China which was really interesting.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

“Would you please calm down?” Macaque growled at Sun Wukong, annoyed since his partner was being more irksome than usual.

Granted, the pair had recently made up after all their years of fighting, but sometimes… Well, the Monkey King had a lot more energy than Macaque, and he wasted it in frivolous ways, always bouncing around and rarely bothering to stay still unless he was choosing to be inconvenient and lazy, in which case it was impossible to make him get up and do whatever was required of him.

Sun Wukong was equally displeased with Macaque, who didn’t seem to be taking his plight seriously.

“Calm down?” He wailed, his search continually frantic as he flew from mountain top to mountain top. “Who can calm down at a TIME LIKE THIS?! (Y/N)’s missing!”

Macaque rubbed his temples, feeling a headache begin to form. “They’re not missing, they’re probably just at their house or-”

“ON CHRISTMAS?” Sun jumped in front of Macaque, grabbing him by the shoulders and wrapping his tail tightly around the darker simian, “Not a chance! I planned everything for today. We were going to go ice skating, get some wrapped apples, sing karaoke, drink hot chocolate, go to that new noodle bar- There’s just no way (Y/N) would miss all that.”

“… Fine. If you must continue this inane search, could you use your gold vision and get it over with already?”

Sun raised a mischievous eyebrow and smirked, “And miss out on the fun of the search?”

Macaque sighed irritably, “You’re seriously having fun with this?”

“Well yeah. What’d be the point if I found (Y/N) immediately? It needs to be dramatic.”

With that, the Monkey King got back to his search, whilst Macaque stepped away to take a breather, and possibly to brood if the mood struck him; relationships were exhausting. As soon as he left Wukong, his sharp hearing picked up your voice at the bottom of the mountain.

“Shoot-” You said upon clearly dropping something.

Macaque smiled as a more forceful expletive followed, and listened more intently. Evidently, you were carrying something and your bag had split. He chuckled and took pity on you, waiting till you had recovered your items before casting out a shadow portal that brought you directly in front of him.

Having been ready to take a step that was no longer in front of you, you stumbled into Macaque’s open arms.

“You always trip,” He commented drily, “You think you’d be used to that by now.”

You smiled up at Macaque, pecking his cheek before replying, “I don’t think I’ll ever be used to that. You always do it when I least expect it.”

“Then you’ve got to learn to expect the unexpected.”

“If I did that, there would never be an unexpected event and my life would become oh so dull.”

Macaque began a witty retort, but he was drowned out by Wukong who hurried over to meet you, crushing you in a hug, clingy as ever. Whenever you were around, there was hardly a moment wherein he wasn’t holding onto you in some manner.

“Peaches!” He exclaimed joyfully, using your affectionately awarded nickname, “I knew you wouldn’t abandon us on Christmas. Where were you? You’ve already wasted half the day.”

“It’s only ten,” You protested.

“Yeah, well I would’ve been there for you at six if we were meeting at your place.”

That was a lie. If it was up to Sun Wukong to come to you, you knew that Macaque would have to drag him out of bed and that it would take him hours to wake from his sleepy state.

“If I say I brought presents, will that make it up to you?” You held up your bag; Macaque smiled when he saw the knot you had tied in the bottom to patch the split.

Sun immediately pushed you away to snatch up the bag, though his tail remained wrapped around your wrist.

“Share,” You reminded him, bringing Macaque back into the loop.

“Can we open these now?” Sun asked, already tearing at the gold paper which marked the presents meant for him.

“Apparently so.”

Macaque was much gentler with his sliver foiled presents. You hadn’t bothered to write any cards or tags. You couldn’t read or write Chinese, and your simian companions were equally unskilled in your native language. Instead, it was easier to treat them like the sun and the moon and wrap their gifts accordingly.

There were some generic little presents at the top of the bag, but soon your loves got to the gifts you had spent months lovingly crafting. Shawls, knitwear, and repaired clothing that both of them had mourned when damaged in battle made the bulk of the gifts. In a second smaller bag were the presents you had made fresh the night before. They were treats you missed from home, sweet breads, pastries, sugared fruits, and brandy snaps.

“Oh yeah,” Sun Wukong bragged, taking the first bite of a cream-filled sugar cone, “We’re going to have a feast tonight.”

“If we make it to tonight alive with all you have planned,” Macaque stated drily, though he spared an affectionate pat to Wukong’s head.

“All you have planned?” You asked, uncertain as to what anyone could do on Christmas Day when everywhere was closed. Alas, you were thinking of home, which differed greatly from China in many ways, Christmas traditions being one of them.

“Well, duh.” Sun Wukong placed a hand proudly on his chest and stood in a heroic position atop a newly summoned cloud. “Do you really think that I, Sun Wukong, the Monkey King and Great Sage Equal to Heaven would have anything less than a perfect day planned for my two true loves?”

“Funny,” Macaque chuckled, tying his new shawl around his neck, “I thought your two true loves were sleeping and making Wukong Dating sims.”

“Oh yeah? And what about you? You only love puppets and being all dramatic and emo.”

“And I love it when my boys don’t argue,” You said, stepping between them before their little spat turned into a contest which would inevitably lead to a fight. Granted, the three of you were a throuple now, but Sun Wukong and Macaque still had a lot of bad blood and unresolved history; some days were more difficult than others when they were learning how to choose love and forgiveness over anger and spite.

“So, what’s on the agenda for today?”

Wukong grinned and held you to his side, throwing his free arm up as if physically showing you the day’s schedule while he listed everything off.

Macaque approached you and took your hand gently in his, “Is that all okay? It’s probably a lot different to where you come from.”

You smiled bittersweetly, thinking about all the traditions you would miss out on and how Christmas was more family-oriented where you were from.

“It’s- It’s different to what I’m used to, but… I don’t think that’s a bad thing. I’m just happy to be with you two.”

At that, Sun Wukong softened. He stood in front of you, his tail curling around your waist, “Hey, we don’t have to do this if it’s too much. We can try your traditions if you want.”

“Next year,” You promised. “I want to see how you do things.”

Sun Wukong smiled at both you and Macaque. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was. He had spent far too long alone, and now he had two people he could spend the holidays with, and even more friends who you were all going to meet; he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[ladyfauxhawk]

Fandom IRL: what do you keep for you and what do you share?

Last night I was spinning my newly-acquired copy of Change the Show, and doing some house cleaning.

The speakers were turned up, I'm wailing "nothings ever gonna be good enough," and Mr. FauxHawk walks in, home earlier than expected from a late meeting.

I froze. I felt like a teenager. It was...embarrassing?

Like, he knows I have a fandom life that includes an Arctic Monkeys obsession. He's sweet about it, but will tease me about the most surface-level TLSP stuff (ie "are those men still flirting with each other") and watched me literally scream at Jarvis Cocker when we saw Pulp. I'm not shy about My Loves™️.

But part of me was not ready to introduce him to Miles Kane. And it feels, well, silly. I'm trying to understand why I feel so protective of him and his music.

I need fandom opinions, friends. Is this something that ever happens to you? HELP

[gumballavocadoharry]

Dad, I'm sorry I stopped calling: Jack Chambers:

*Mentions of slightly abusive father/parenting, harsh words, trauma, discipline and generational abuse. Also some offensive terms and mild cursing.*

"Waahh!" Four year old Roger had fallen off the slide at the playground and was now wailing from his skinned knee. "Roger!" Jack had shot up from his place on the bench and ran to his little boy, arms wide open. "It's okay, shh, daddy's here," He cooed. "I know it hurts." Jack wrapped his arms around Roger and kissed his knee a million times.

"There...isn't that better?" He said with a baby voice. Roger gave his dad a toothy smile, leaving Jack to steal another kiss to his cheek. He helped Roger up and sent him back to the slide again; Jack walking back to his seat. The sweet interaction happened to revive memories of his own childhood. His father contrasted in many ways to Jack.

"Walk it off!" He would bark whenever Jack had a scraped knee or elbow. Jack couldn't even think of his dad kissing or hugging him for comfort. Jack wouldn't even receive regular compliments for his achievements from his father. In fact, Jack could count on his fingers the time his dad showed genuine affection, one of them being when he was moving out and another was when he found out Jack had settled down with Alice and had Susan.

He was taught to bottle up his emotions. Jack recalled one incident were he cried over being pushed down on the ground by the school bully. His father chided him harshly: "Stop crying like a jellyfish and knock him down back!" Jack shook his head; he knew it would be wrong....even for a six year old at the time. Those times were met with: "Sit up straight! Be a man! Watch your mouth! Say that again and I'll smack you boy!" A shudder penetrated Jack's spine...the thought of him speaking that way to his own children was inhumane.

Jack's mother just took her place in the back; not daring to speak a challenging word to her husband about his behaviour, but would instead take Jack in the back and shower him with her undenying love. "He loves you Jack....remember that." She would always say. But......he couldn't. Even at the tender age Jack was, he understood this wasn't love. Constant criticism, harsh words, condescending remarks, getting berated in public and chauvinistic slaps were the usual for the lad.

His dad was never physically violent; never daring to lay a finger on his son or wife....but his words were so jarring that any 'smack' across the face would be more bearable. And....there were some smacks. Jack cringed remembering getting a spanking for crying over something. "Suck it up Jack! A real man doesn't cry....don't be a bastard! And don't embarrass me like that in public, you hear me!" Jack was always a hothead. It escalated in his early teens when his dad had went too far and duressed Jack with a baseball, throwing it at him to 'dodge'.

Jack grabbed the ball and shot it at his father with a brisk arm. Eyes full of fire and steam shooting from his ears like a boiling volcano. Jack felt someone grab his collar and shake him. "You wanna be a tough guy? I'll show you a tough guy." His dad sneered bitterly with enrage. He still could remember the feeling of his heart sinking into his throat and then dropping to his stomach. His father always punished out of anger rather than love.

"Daddy?" Jack snapped out of his cantankerous thoughts and turned to Roger. "Ready to go home now?" Roger lifted his arms up for Jack to latch onto. "Jack?" He looked up, still in a crouched position about to pick up Roger, he spotted a gray haired man walking to them. He picked up Roger anyway and held him tightly in his arms, still looking and waiting for the man. That's when Jack recognized the codger. "Son! What a surprise!" Jack pressed a tight lipped smile and gave a nod.

"Who's this little monkey with ya?" He smiled, making his way closer to the father and son. "Roger. This is my son....my youngest child." Jack's voice a little edgy but still polite. He clutched onto Roger tighter. "Well I'll be damn! You and the Mrs. had another one! He's looks just like you." Jack kept his artificial smile still; secretly exasperated with his father's potty mouth. Especially in front of his grandchild. But he stayed tight lipped and just looked his father in the eyes. "So what's changed? Are you still that larrikin that you were?" Jack sucked in an eyeroll. He was never a troublemaker......just a little choleric at times....well, still was.

"No, I'm just pretty busy with the kids you know....and Alice," Jack tried to be bright. His dad nodded, "What happened to being in New York? The kids would go to a solid public school, and you and the wife could probably get away for a little while and come visit us,"

"I wanted a change of scenery...San Diego is perfect- what are you doing here though?"

"Me and your mother stopped by to visit. She's in the hotel right now, but....I just had to come see you.....I thought you'd call once you got to California?" Jack gave a small smile, but no response. "What could I say?" Jack said, jokingly...but his dad got the message...there was nothing to talk about with him.

Roger gave way to a whine. "What's wrong with him?" Jack's dad had this pang of annoyance in his voice, making Jack shoot him a look quickly before turning back to Roger. "I think he's ready for a nap- aren't you puppy?" Jack said; softness ricocheting in his voice with cooing sprinkled through. "Whining won't help. Remember that's what I taught you Jack right? And what type of nickname is puppy anyway? He's a dog now?"

Jack furrowed his eyebrows. Puppy was an affectionate nickname he came up with because Roger to him was like a little puppy: hyperactive and followed you everywhere. Not to mention, you had to watch him with eyes in the back of your head. But yeah he did remember being told not whine. Five hard smacks to the backside.

"It's just his way of communicating," Jack hissed a little, "He's practically a baby." Jack cooed to Roger; gently rocking him back and forth in his arms. "You're going soft on him Jack, I'm telling ya, he's gonna be a twinkle fairy," He continued, "He ain't no baby anymore...it's time you teach him how to be a real man." That did it. That was the last straw.

Jack could feel his teeth clenching, his eyes becoming red with thick fury like a preying shark about to attack, becoming entranced in the smell of blood. His eyes; white that roll into these big black lifeless eyes like a doll and then....he bites. Hard. Jack showed his murderous fangs; his claws protruding about to swipe deeply into the flesh like a whetted knife. Steam poured from his ears and his skin became red and sweaty, cheeks hot and moist; burned with rage of agony. Eyes were thin slits of a snake, but dark and lethal like dinosaur. But just as Jack was about to rip his father into a new one, Roger let out a cry.

Instead, Jack bit his lip, set Roger into his stroller and saif goodbye to his father, internally flipping him off. He mumbled and grumbled all the way home; mind still racing over those nasty words. Twinkle fairy.

He might as well said Bastard. Well no....then Jack would have even more of a reason to slaughter him for that. Words couldn't describe the ire and resentment he felt in that moment. The very ground he stepped on became like acid; it burned up dry as the anger of Jack was too toxic for it. But underneath all that rage, was sadness. Deep heartache of the offensive words that slithered from his father's tongue.

Jack looked down at Roger, almost in tears. He loved his little boy so much that it was killing him. Killing him in the sense of Roger not understanding the loathsome putrid meaning and intention of those words that he didn't understand either. Jack had to stop. Despite being halfway home, he bent down and kissed Roger's forehead deeply. "None of what grandpa said was true....you're perfect the way you are and I wouldn't change that for anything."

Then they continued on home.

Alice, was busy visiting her friend, Margret, with Susan. The house painted a thick muteness. Only the sounds of the key being turned and Jack's footsteps along with Roger's stroller being wheeled into the house echoed. Roger was halfway asleep, so Jack carefully took him out of his stroller in tucked him into his bed. "Have a nice nap litt one." He kissed his cheek and tiptoed out of the room.

After storing the stroller away, Jack sat down on the couch; smashing his face into his hands. Jack's eyes were glossy upon ruminating thoughts over the intricate he had with his father. He had insulated Jack's parenting and Roger simply for being gentle; for Roger being able to cry freely in the arms of his father when he was hurt or something didn't go his way after a bad week.

Jack wouldn't lay a finger on Roger for simply expressing human emotion or yell or scold in for being a 'sissy.' It was those memories that made Jack assay to be a different type of father: one that wasn't respected just for the merits of being an authority, one that was loved for being the best version of himself for his kids. Jack would give a right arm and more for them.

Click! The front door opened; Alice appeared with a sleepy Susan in her arms as well. "Someone wore themselves out blueberry picking." Alice softly giggled. She petted the back of her head and softly rocked her. Jack got up and went over to Alice, eyes surveying the sleeping beauty. Alice furrowed her eyebrows, noticing the weariness and anguished look on her husband's face. "What's wrong?" Jack shook his head, sending a rictus to convince Alice to drop the subject.

But Alice quickly whisked Susan into her bed, before coming back to Jack with an answer to her conjecturing reckon. She guided him to the couch; twiddling her soft hands with perfectly manicured red nails into Jack's more bulky one. "What's up baby?" She smoothed his face with the back of her hand, "I can tell when something's bothering you....you just get this look.." Jack turned away, eyebrows furrowed wondering what look it could possibly be that would give away his secret.

"When me and Roger were at the park.....my dad came up to us; my parents were visiting for the week. All those memories of everything he did; the way he treated me just blew up in my face! And then he criticizes my parenting, tells me that I'm too 'soft' on Roger and that he'll grow up to be a twinkle fairy!" Jack gritted his teeth, slamming his fist down on his thigh. Alice listened patiently. "That did it...I was just about to give him a piece of my mind when Roger started crying. It was his nap time so I took him home.....Gosh, dad really would've deserved a good chide. I pride myself on the way I raise Susan and Roger and how I don't follow the same pattern of my upbringing. Your stronger than my mom in many ways Alice and I'll always be thankful for the way you nurture the kids."

Alice rubbed Jack's back. The lump in his throat was becoming thicker and more suffocating the more he recalled moments of his father. He shook his head, a single tear finally hitting the cotton of the couch cushion. "I could never do that to them," His voice cracked, "They deserve to feel safe....everyone does." Alice snuggled her head into Jack. "Some parents....just don't deserve the rich blessings of being one at all. If they can't give their child the best parts......then they shouldn't even bother."

Jack nodded, pressing a small kiss to Alice's hair. "I love you," She looked up, eyes filled with profound esteem for Jack. "

I love you too. And you know what? You are so much more of a father than your father could've ever been. You teach Susan and Roger and guide them with love and compassion beyond what is possible. You're never afraid to show them how much you love and appreciate them and it fills my heart everyday to know that you truly love being a parent and giving them all of you. You were meant for that Jack....what could he say? Your very presence says enough for him to know that it was you who chose to be the man who is Jack Chambers....a man your father could only imagine of being. You had the guts to do what no other man would've done.....teach a boy what a real man is in love," Alice kissed Jack's lips passionately. "God couldn't ask for more."

Jack sniffled. His faith was reassured again. He was an exclusive rare type of father. And a real man. So Jack got up, and marched into his car and drove down to the hotel his parents were staying at. "Hello, I'm looking for a David and Lucy Chambers?" Jack asked the young man at the front desk, "Of course, they are in room 307."

"Thank you." Jack marched into the elevator and channeled his steadfastness. It was time he needed to confront his parents once and for all. "Jack!" His mother opened the door and threw her arms around Jack's neck. "Oh I missed you so much!" She peppered his cheeks with kisses leaving Jack to smile in warmth. "I missed you too mom." He hugged back. "Where's dad?" Lucy pulled away and looked toward David, "He's in the bedroom."

Jack marched over to his father; shadowing him in his discontent. "Well hey son! You shoot off so fast from the park." He chuckled. Jack gave a tight grin, "Roger had to take a nap. He was getting cranky."

David shook his head, "Being at a child's beckon call won't help...you gotta teach em who's boss and Roger's gonna be a schlemiel if you don't you fix him rig-"

"That's enough dad!" Jack barked, "Roger is not a schlemiel or a twinkle fairy or a gutless person the way you portray him....and me to be. Roger, much like Susan is on the right track to becoming an honorable member of society, and the reason why is because I love them.....I will never be afraid to show them that and to me that is what a real man is......that's what makes character of the person, regardless of gender. I came down here because I wanted to set things straight....whether or not you chose to believe that men can be emotional is between you and God, but I'll be damned if I'm gonna stand there and let you call my child weak because he cries, because he shows his emotions and doesn't bottle them up.....like.....like someone who's brainwashed into believing that a man's sensitivity is nothing but a mere setback; funnily enough when it comes down to taking what he wants- a woman- then it's okay. But I don't give anyone that much control over me and tell me how or when I should feel things. Then I would be gutless......so no dad, I don't want you talking about my family like that anymore. I'm proud of myself and who I am and what my family's turned out to be, and if that's weak to you.....then......I am a twinkle fairy."

Jack clutched his car keys and walked out, feeling satisfied with everything he said. David followed Jack, conscience stricken with the same pangs eating out the strings of his heart. "Daddy!" Jack, who was halfway skirted out the door, turned to see his little Roger running break neck speed to him. Jack stretched his arms out and tackled him into a hug. "Oh, hello Rogie! Your mommy and sissy are here too!" Jack cooed, upon looking and seeing a tired Alice with Susan in one arm and an assumption of Roger was supposed to be in her other.

"We came for moral support," She kissed Jack's cheek once approached, "We took the trolley, I figured we could all drive home together." Jack noticed his father looking out the door a little, looking pitiful at the interaction with his son and his family. They were never that happy. "I was thinking....maybe we could go out for dinner?" Susan and Roger jumped up and down excited, leaving Alice to shush them. "Well....it is getting late, and it's not like anything's thawed." Alice agreed to the suggestion.

Jack escorted his family out of the hotel and into the car. The family drove out to dinner with Jack feeling his sense of pride again; fluttering at the gospel that he finally broke the cycle.

[electrichus-a]

cover your ears !! incredibly out of tune singing can be heard as denki serenades @auditioheros with a birthday tune !! he should totally take some singing lessons !!

❝ Jiji-Jaaaaaack ~ !! ❞ The sound of Denki's deafening shouts rung throughout the entirety of class 1-A's dormitory building. He had always prided the length at which his voice could carry and boy did he use this ability more than he should. Did he need to shout this loudly whilst Jirou was still stood in front of him? No. Did he still do it anyway? Yes. Why? Because he wanted to.

With one deep and heavily gasped breath a wailing voice sung the worst rendition of happy birthday. ❝ HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU ~ ❞ The once peaceful common room where the Bakusquad were celebrating Jirou became filled with a horrible screeching noise could even challenge a howler monkey.

❝ HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOUUUUU , HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR JI-JI JAAAAAACK ~ ❞ With a very, very elongated 'Jack' which was followed by a large amount of complaints and groans to 'shut up'- Denki's face was a bright red as he started running out of air, yet Denki soldiers on- he won't give up! ❝ HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU !!!! ❞

Then... sweet bliss, pure silence ( beside the sound of Denki's heavy panting as he tried to catch his breath ) filled the room, now slumped over Jirou as he faced up to look at her with a big, huge, cheeky grin. ❝ Boy ... my lungs hurt now . ❞

❝ So ... how is my absolute bestie of all time ? On the bestest day of the year !!! ❞

[malimangle]

Pilgrim Aiden + Sentient Volatile Crane

AKA: I have a VERY long and convoluted explanation for how Kyle Crane could be a father-figure to Aiden that I shared with my two buddies, and I am now deeply entrenched in + committed to the bit. So I made father-son content, naturally. It’s mostly senseless gjfkdg

For this story, imagine that we open with Crane’s backstory. His perspective—this whole deal traces his life from Harran and upwards, his various fights and how terribly lonely he is as he travels through the slowly deteriorating world, searching half-heartedly for some half-baked cure for what he’s been reduced to. Like every other man on earth, buddy.

All the while, yes, he’s a Volatile that goes into a fit of what can only be described as insistent monkey brain at nighttime, but he’s still a man, dammit. He craves human connection, and as he always has, he wants to protect + help people. Unfortunately, he can only achieve the latter half. It’s a half-rate substitute for the foremost desire, but that doesn’t change that it’s better than nothing. 

As we go over his backstory, we view as he tries―and fails― to save a settlement. They didn’t listen to his warning about approaching Volatiles, and as a consequence, they get slaughtered, with many dying entirely and a solid third becoming infected. The lot of the survivors become Virals. He sorta leaves them alone after that, counseling the Virals as they, over time, begin to lose their human minds to the virus (there’s some INTERESTING world building where human facilities don’t fully shut down til at least a couple weeks into the virus, and Crane gets to talk people through the transition and watch them OFFICIALLY die.) 

Well. Some days later a kid comes LITERALLY falling into the settlement, provoking all 21 Virals, and Crane has to put them all down prematurely as they wail at him to just kill them so they don’t hurt this kid.

Aiden initially tries to run from Crane and actually gives him a run for his money, but Jesus, this kid can’t be older than 14, so when Aiden finally thinks he’s lost this ‘weird infected motherfucker’, that’s when Crane springs at him, lifts him by the scruff of his shirt, and--immediately uses his weird telepathy to essentially strip Aiden the fuck down for being completely fucking unattended in the wastes at ‘his age’ and demand that he goes back to his Settlement IMMEDIATELY.

(” Listen, kid--stop screaming, dammit, I get it, I know--LISTEN. Jesus Christ. I know I’m some monster to you but the real problem is the reason why your sorry ass is out here ALONE! What the hell are you doing, kid!?”

“...What the fuck are you????”)

Just imagine Aiden hanging there, mid-air, goggling at this fucking Volatile-adjacent man who is standing in broad daylight and chastising him after chasing him several hundred meters.

“I don’t know what fucking girl you were sweet on here, but I guarantee she’s dead now, and I guarantee that going to have a fucking booty call with her in this day and age is NOT worth your goddamn death. Go HOME.”

Eventually Aiden scrambles together some brain cells thru the shock and he ends up squawking, the picture of baffled indignance, “What the hell are you--I don’t fucking BELONG ANYWHERE, let GO of me, asshole!”

Yeah. Crane initially finds that very hard to believe, but eventually as their conversation continues, he’s forced to accept that, no, Aiden’s fucking serious. He sorta…bluescreens over it. What the hell, he thinks. This 13 year old kid only comes up to my fucking elbow, and he’s out here alone??? Trying to ‘find his sister??’ You must be joking. No way in hell am I leaving this little guy to his own devices.

So, obviously, Crane wants to take Aiden to a settlement to settle in and not be in the wastes anymore, because he knows trying to find anyone in this day and age is a Fool’s Errand, especially someone you haven’t seen in a solid decade. 

He feels a bit bad about it, but mostly has zero qualms about telling Aiden so, to which Aiden is like “fuck you no” but either way, Crane eventually “succeeds” in cajoling Aiden into talking to a Settlement. Problem is--Crane didn’t actually succeed. Aiden KNOWS this Settlement is Hostile to Pilgrims. Crane didn’t accept Aiden’s claim that they’d be mean to him because he’s not REALLY a pilgrim (yes he is—Crane doesn’t believe it! The fucking nerve!) and like…”wHoS gOiNg To Be CrUeL tO a KiD, AiDeN??”

Yeah, I’m sure we can guess Aiden’s plan, here. Crane, however, is blissfully unaware of the can of bullshit Aiden’s about to open. This is not going to be softened at all by the fact that, during the travel to the settlement, Aiden and Crane kinda become grudging pals (grudging in that Aiden is softening to Crane over time and VERY angry about it, and Crane is endlessly exasperated by Aiden’s teenagism but also unwillingly(!!) amused by it.)

Soon enough, we’ve got our day of Reckoning. They reach the bigger Settlement. As we and Aiden both expect, they are immediately hostile to Aiden when he reveals he’s a pilgrim—and our poor, previously unaware Crane, in turn, immediately realizes Aiden wasn’t being dramatic, actually, and tries very hard to get Aiden to get the hell out of there and come back over to him without revealing himself to the settlers, because showing himself would cause a panic. Guess who isn’t aware of that because he’s a dumb thirteen year old and the novelty of Crane wore off, like, a week ago? Ding ding ding. It’s Aiden. 

Yeah, so, with rising hysteria Crane is trying to get Aiden to bail. Alas, the teenager in Aiden is coming out HARD and, wanting to REALLY prove his point to Crane, who has NOT been listening to his judgment at ALL, Aiden is very showy about calling out to the settlement guards and basically begs for a crossbow bolt between the eyes while Crane literally screams at him mentally. 

Right, so. Consequences, here we come. Aiden is so busy being a jerkoff thirteen year old that he’s completely blindsided when one of the Settlers does, indeed ACTUALLY shoot Aiden, right in the front of the shoulder.

A stunned silence. The Settlers look amongst each other, wide-eyed and quiet, but then--as one--almost immediately they decide to commit to the bit. Ohhhh FUCK.

Crane doesn’t even hesitate once that group-decision becomes clear— with some unholy shriek, he leaps into action, and not only swipes the guards off the wall, but flings himself off the wall and seizes Aiden by the middle, loping both of them off into the distance while Aiden screams and shouts for multiple reasons, kicking his dumb little feet. 

They have an argument as Crane runs from the Infected he’s accidentally sent into a frenzy between his sudden energy and the smell of Aiden’s blood, and Crane doubles down—he’s like, kid, some people are just assholes, not everyone is like that and no one’ll turn away a KID--especially not one who’s bleeding profusely from the shoulder, now, Jesus Christ, we got to sit down and take care of that soon--and Aiden tells him once more, this time with incredulous insistence, that no, he hadn’t been kidding before and wasn’t kidding now, EVERY fucking settlement this way is hostile as hell to Pilgrims, and after the scene HE made, they were probably going to be on the lookout!

Crane doesn’t want to believe it, but now that truth is starting to actually dawn on him, and he’s just not ready for it. Instead, they eventually lose the Chase and Crane props up Aiden on a car to help him clumsily patch up as best as he can with the materials he’s got on hand from previous finds in hospitals and clinics along the road.

Obviously, it’s a pretty hackneyed job―especially since Aiden botches the fuck out of pulling out the arrow and he can’t give himself stitches. Unnoticed, while Aiden thrashed in pain over the arrow removal, he scrapes the fuck out of his shoulders on the rusty ass car door and gets some minor abrasions—IMPORTANT LATER. 

Story marches on. Crane tries to prove Aiden wrong about people being jerks to teenage pilgrims, but it’s pretty obviously a doomed venture when they reach settlement after settlement, and one by one, all of them box Aiden out. Crane gets increasingly frustrated, which comes to a head when he comes raring out and YELLING at the guards who won’t take Aiden in despite his injuries after the twelfth turn-away, which results in a BIG conflict that ends with Crane breaking in, wrecking some shit, and carting Aiden away over his shoulder. 

Well, Crane’s meltdown is just the precursor to Aiden blowing up on him, because Crane has only JUST understood what Aiden’s been telling him the whole fucking time! Listen--Aiden’s not sure WHY Crane has been so obstinate about getting him into a settlement, but what he DOES know is that he’s in pain, he’s thirsty, his shoulder and head are killing him, he hasn’t eaten in days, and he’s VERY pissed at Crane. So. While Crane tries to find them a place to hole up for the night and check in on Aiden’s shoulder, they get INTO IT.

This is The Fight. Where Aiden hammers home his goals, and how Crane can’t change his mind. This is the broad strokes of how it goes—this is NOT the dialogue, but essentially what is said:

“It’s not my fault you think it’s stupid, and it’s not my fault you don’t have a Fucking goal.”

“You don't think I have a goal? What do you think I’ve been doing this whole time!? Fuck, kid—I’ve been traveling with you for over a month, you think I’ve just been doing that for the hell of it? I want you to be SAFE!” 

“and I’m TELLING you that I REFUSE to be safe until I see this through, and there’s JACK SHIT you can do about it! Either you’re with me, or against me, and there is zero fucking in between. So save yourself the trouble and just LEAVE already! I know you’ve been dying to get rid of me anyway! (stroke of abandonment issue—Crane trying to foist Aiden upon settlements has come across, to him, as an adult he grudgingly trusts trying to abandon him. He thinks Crane is eager to get rid of him)” 

“I’m not—what?! Aiden, I’m NOT fucking leaving you, you’re injured and I happen to give a shit about you! You think I want to up and fucking dump you somewhere, that I’d just leave you for dead like this?! Are you joking?! (Crane has misunderstood, a little, but he sounds so earnest here that it throws Aiden off)”

“Well—! If you really gave a shit the way I NEED you to, you’d know just how fucking important Mia is to me, and you wouldn’t tell me over and over again that my one goal in life, my one reason for LIVING, is STUPID. You’ve been nothing but an asshole about this the entire Fucking time and I’m sick of it!” 

“… (Crane, being the adult, realizes Aiden is right and accepts ownership of his relentless, though inadvertent assholery) …You’re right, kid. I HAVE been an asshole about this. But fuck, man, look around you. EVERYONE is dead. I have lost so many people, people that meant the world to me, and if that’s pain I can get you to avoid—especially when pursuing it might KILL YOU, I just…I wanted to try.” 

“And I want to know what happened.” 

“(Crane realizes getting Aiden to give up on this is going to take a lot more time than a single month, and uneasily settles into ‘agreeing’ to help him, because this is stupid but he cares enough about this punk ass kid to want to stick around.) Okay. Alright. Fine. Then I’ll help you find her. For real, this time.”

With that cleared, they finally chill the fuck out. Crane awkwardly leaves Aiden to mope it out while he goes and gets them dinner, because Aiden hasn’t eaten in awhile and he needs sustenance. He goes and manages to take down a couple rabbits, raids a nearby settlement for veggies bcus they pissed him off, and Crane goes back to Aiden to find the kid miserably dozing in the big master’s bed, smelling like he’s in pain. He clumsily makes a rabbit stew and brings it to Aiden, who says in a surly tone, “I’m not hungry.”

Initially Crane assumes Aiden’s doing that classic teenager thing and—since he’s still feeling like an asshole about earlier—he’s gentle with it. He’s like, “Aiden, listen, dude. I know you’re probably pissed off. I would be pissed, hell, I’d be fucking livid if I were you. But even if that’s true, in this day and age, it’s never a good idea to refuse hot food. You can glare daggers at me the whole time, but please just eat something.”

To which Aiden says, with appropriate shame and a much softer face, “Yeah, you got me, I’ve done that before, but I’m not being a hardass for funsies right now.” He sounds a little troubled as he admits, “I’m actually not hungry.”

“Aiden, you’ve barely eaten these last couple days. I want to believe you, kid, but you’re a teenager--there’s no way in hell you’re not hungry, unless somethings wrong.” The rising anxiousness in Crane’s tone prevents Aiden’s hackles from going up entirely, so he just snips, 

“Didn’t we just argue about you not fucking listening to me? I’m serious, I really don’t want to eat right now.” 

Crane’s heart hammers a bit, “…Do you think something might be wrong?”

“My head just hurts, and my stomach’s in knots, probably over the argument.” Crane feels a distinctly hard twinge of guilt. “I just don’t like fighting. This is  probably nothing special. I’m sure I’ll be fine in the morning.”

Crane eventually cajoles Aiden into eating—he pushes the stew around and manages to get down like half of it, which just worries Crane more. He puts it up in the miraculously still-working fridge and goes to settle for the night. Well. Some hours later—when it’s 2am and Crane’s still in stupid-mode (remember: that’s how he is as a Sentient Volatile—he doesn’t get bloodlust. Stupid Insistent Monkey Brain because I can’t handle violent Crane), he’s woken by the sound of his kid hurling over the side of the bed. 

He lopes into the room in a hurry like “!!! What ! The fuck ! hurt?!” and Aiden tries to wave him off like “I just don’t think the rabbit sat well with me.” But he’s trembling, sweating, listing a little bit, and pale as fuck. Crane immediately feels his face—he’s sodden with sweat, and boiling. Oh fuck, he’s feverish. He goes to manhandle Aiden out of the blankets and curls his hand carefully around Aiden’s injured shoulder, avoiding the front—but when he grabs the back of Aiden’s shoulder, the kid nearly Fucking convulses. 

Oh fuck.

Remember that scrape he got on his back from the rusty car door when he pulled the arrow out of the front of the shoulder? 

Yeah. Turns out one of the scrapes was a proper cut, and it got infected with bacteria. Aiden missed it because he doesn’t have eyes back there and, yknow, the front of his shoulder was in such overwhelming pain, and Crane missed it because he was so fixated on the front too. But now there’s visible pus in it and even though Crane is still in stupid-mode, he’s still got the faculties to think to himself a very emphatic, “Fuck.”

He’s like “we need! Pills! Medicine!” and Aiden’s like “so long as it’s not penicillin it’s fine” and Cranes like “?!?!? WHAT.” to which Aiden explains that, for some godforsaken reason, he’s allergic as hell to the one (1) antibiotic that is still around in abundance—penicillin. Cranes like “where! The fuck!! Am I gonna find an antibiotic that’s NOT ! Penicillin! Fuck!”

They start with the first Crane finds—Doxycycline hyclate. It was manufactured in 2022 — it’s 2032. Unfortunately, they don’t really do shit. They went over the expiry for them, and though SOME might still be effective, ultimately they just barely make a dent in the infection. Things are starting to look dire, and the area is starting to clog up with migrating infected and bandits, so they gotta move. 

Crane ends up rigging together, basically, a baby carrier for his back to keep Aiden hoisted securely on him using bungee cords and other materials he raids from a hiking store in a Volatile Hive mall. By this point, Aiden is so feverish he can barely speak, much less travel. So he gets Aiden secured, grabs their shit, and in a last ditch effort makes it to a Very large hospital-turned-hive, and basically sets Aiden up in a room, secures it, and fucking destroys all of the Infected in there while staying in tune with Aiden’s struggling heartbeats and deteriorating mind. 

Eventually the hospital is secure, Crane reboots the UV lights to keep the nasties out, and rifles through what remains. Blessedly, he finds not only proper I.V needles and fluid, but ALSO Ciprofloxacin, which can last 142 months after expiry before it really is dangerous. It was made in June 2024– it’s February 2032. Only 92 months, well within the limit. 

He sets Aiden up with the IV, and with the antibiotics―which he very carefully coaxes the boy into swallowing. By the time Aiden takes these, he’s dangerously close to death’s door, and not altogether there. So at some point he wakes in a hospital room, with shit shoved in his arm, very disoriented, woozy, and hot.

So. Very understandably he loses his absolute fucking shit. Which gives me the opportunity for some VERY heart-wrenching whumpy bullshit wherein Crane gets to cradle a very-nearly wailing Aiden and calm him down from, essentially, a post-traumatic meltdown. Just like I wish my parents woulda done with me, hahaha. 

Jesus Christ.

Well. Anyway. Between the IV keeping him hydrated, the antibiotics finally working to fight the infection and compounding on the mild effect the previous ones had, and the comfortable bed, Aiden’s condition does rapidly improve. By the time two days go by, the fever finally diminishes enough for Aiden to be fully coherent. He’s still absolutely miserable, but at least he’s back with it, right? Mmn. It would be nice if he didn’t have to contend with Crane’s deep and almost frantic doting concern, which was exponentially worsened by his flip-out over simply being in a hospital bed. 

Eventually: “So you, uh…I didn’t want to bring it up too fast, but I don’t know if you remember―you had a pretty strong reaction to being in a hospital bed, buddy. What uh. What’s going on there?”

Aiden puts down his comic book and squeezes his eyes shut. Fuuuck. 

So they’re having this conversation. Awesome. Well. Crane just saved his absolute dick and ass, and went above and beyond to care for him. And like…the guy’s alright. He’s clearly in this for the long haul, so Aiden guesses he sorta owes the dude the full explanation. So he gets into it. Talking about the experiments Waltz was running on the GRE’s dime for some fucking reason, and all the awful shit he was put through. 

Crane is.

AGHAST. 

 ...I’m not even going to comment on,, all of THAT, because there’s jack shit I can say to--well. Y’know. Just, holy fuck. Holy fuck. But uh. Make no mistake kid―not your fault, I don’t judge you for that―I mean, look at me, how am I gonna judge someone?--and--and those people fucking suck. I hope you know you’re getting babied forever now though. Fuck, dude.”

“...”

“ᴺᵃᶦˡᵉᵈ ᶦᵗ”

“Ur not my fucking dad, Crane.”

“Yeah, I’m glad! I got a bone to pick with that dude.”

“Jesus. Whatever, look―is babying me going to involve that weird baby carrier thing you were doing the other day?”

“...Holy shit, you remember that?”

It does, indeed, entail the baby carrier thing, though admittedly it’s more for the hell of it. They both come to realize that Crane can travel a helluva lot faster than Aiden can, and if they can trade off on who’s leading, they can travel way farther and waste less time. So they develop a routine―during the day, Crane helps Aiden scavenge―goes where Aiden cannot―while Aiden works on gathering info on his sister and Waltz, does errands, and basically does life maintenance. 

By the time sunset rolls around, Aiden and Crane pack up, strap Aiden to his back, pad him a lil bit, and essentially just let Stupid Brain Crane jettison through the night and get his zoomies out with Aiden secured to him. Aiden comes to sleep exceptionally well whilst having the Fuck shook out of him, and only really sleep good when Crane’s there. 

Aiden pretends to hate the baby carrier--he tries real hard. Crane figures out pretty quick that he's full of shit. He lets it alone tho lol

Wintering is kinda cute―they make, essentially, a gigantic soft nest to appeal to Crane, and they essentially hibernate together. Just like that, Crane acquires the human connection he craves and like, a weird quirked-up whiteboy of a son. And Aiden gets an adult who protects him and loves him like their own, giving him a parent. So cute. Wow. Love it. 

So obviously this gets a little fucked up once they get to Villedor almost nine years later. Aiden’s 21 now, going on 22. 

Crane has to make a very tough call―he’s not…going into the city with Aiden. At first, Aiden’s really betrayed―he came this far, just to leave him behind here? What the fuck? Crane quickly explains that he’d love to stay with Aiden, but this is a city full of people. There’s no way in hell Crane can fly under the radar here, and…Aiden has finally found where Mia is. But he won’t find her without acceptance from the locals. And the thought that Crane could fuck that up for him without even trying? Hell no. Crane couldn’t bear it.

And, well…Aiden can’t really argue with that. He wants to, desperately, because Crane’s been by his side for like, a third of his life! The thought of being apart from him after all this time feels weird, wrong, and anxiety-inducing. For BOTH of them. So Crane’s quick to assure― 

“Don’t worry, kid. I’m not going to up and lope off into the fucking sunset. You know this radio station we’re in, right now? I’ll just roost here. Make a nice nest and everything. And when you find her, and when you’re ready to either leave or stay, you can just come visit whenever. I’ll work on clearing the metro and putting in UV lights if you leave me any, just so your path out stays open, alright?”

“...And you’ll stay on the radio?” Aiden asks in this small voice. 

“Kid… you know I can’t actually talk, right? All I’ve got is this weird mind-link shit, and once you’re out of range, well…”

“But I can talk to YOU. And you―you can do clicks and stuff, yeah? I’ll just ask yes or no questions―two clicks for yes, one for no.”

And hey, that works. They get Crane set up, and while Aiden sets up the bed and gets ready to sleep for the night, Crane scopes out the metro at sunset and goes apeshit on the Volatiles in there. Sets up some UV lights and secures the area, if only so his boy doesn’t get his ass handed to him. Heads back. Now they usually share the bed―Crane’ll be a warm wall of flesh behind Aiden, cover his back and all. They usually reserve the Whole Ticket for winter when it's too damn cold.

For this last night, they indulge in the winter cuddle. Aiden curls up straight in Crane’s lap, head tucked into his neck, and basically sleeps sprawled across the guy’s chest.

As Aiden sleeps, Crane actually cries a little. Softly, with tear ducts that don’t work anyway. He’s really going to miss this kid, and the reality of not seeing him for awhile―possibly not ever again, if Aiden’s unlucky enough―is really starting to hit the dude. 

It’s hard to let him go the next day, but he knows this means the world to Aiden, so he doesn’t say a word to stop him. He watches Aiden head towards Villedor the next morning after one last hug. His slowly heaving heart fills with dread.

---

I'm not quite sure how I want to approach Villedor in this one: I DO want Aiden to go thru the story and all that, but I'm not sure how or when I want him to get Infected, nor how often I want Crane to come into play.

I DO want there to be a consistent subplot of Crane befriending a shitload of feral cats and becoming the ultimate catdad whilst he mopes about missing his kid. 

I do also really want Aiden to employ diplomacy and get the PK to retreat from Old Villedor without extensive bloodshed since being around Crane has given him the (in Dodger’s words, coconut-sized) balls to defy authority (especially because not being able to try diplomacy in the canon game makes me very sad--so many human lives wasted!)

And I DO want Crane to swoop in and save Aiden from Waltz at the electric car factory and basically scream something to the effect of, "GET THE FUCK OFF MY SON YOU FUCKING ANIMAL." @ Waltz before bailing and forcibly seizing Lawan in one arm, Aiden in the other, as Crane jettisons them to the Central Loop. 

(Lawan flips the fuck out over this random Infected, and it is utterly, comically side-burnered by Aiden reuniting with his 'dad', Crane, despite the objective insanity of the happenstance)

Aiden, sobbing: so much terrible shit has happened, a random man broke my heart, I fucking hate this city, I missed you so much, this sucks 

Crane, soothingly: If you want to bail for now, it's okay, you can come home with me and the cats for awhile and try again later. We have time. 

Aiden: Wait, cats? Cats, plural? 

Lawan:

Last but not least I ALSO know that I want Crane to eventually give up on totally behaving himself and instead venture into Villedor regularly--initially 'just to find cat food' but eventually just to sweep the Infected off the streets, throw useful shit into strongholds, and save as many people as possible. 

An urban legend starts to thrum thru all of the city--there is a talking Volatile man who eats other Infected, throws antibiotics at people, and gives absolutely fuckall 0 shits about UV light. Apparently he is usually toting around cat products--toys, litter, kibble, nip, etc--and is very friendly. People are terrified out of their wits at first, but the more he talks about his alleged four cats and doesn't rip people into ribbons, the more the fear fades. 

Aiden hears about this and, with a very amused nose-exhale, thinks to himself, 'oh man, wonder who that could be. what a mystery. so intriguing. Ah, good on you, old man.'

[centuryberry]

@peachshadows / @terrible-leviathan Here’s another chapter where MK bonds with his not-parents after he’s in a situation where he’s forced to.

Or: MK and A-Dan fight.

“A-Dan, you need to apologize.”

MK wasn’t unfamiliar with A-Dan’s tendency to prank the people around her whenever she was bored. Seeing people spring her traps and react to whatever she threw at them always made her day. Whenever anyone heard her Monkey King laugh, they’d know she pulled off yet another successful prank.

“Baby Monkey enrichment, Bud,” his Wukong had told him with a laugh when he complained about being caught up in A-Dan’s latest prank. “It’s actually a lot less destructive than what I did at her age. It’s all in good fun and completely harmless.”

But recently, her pranks, which had been randomly scattered around to catch anyone unlucky to come across them, suddenly became focused on specific targets.

Specific targets being Red Son and Mei.

MK couldn’t understand. A-Dan never seemed to have an issue with Red Son and Mei back in their own world. And the ones in this world seemed almost desperate for any positive interaction with her. So why? Why the dislike and the mean-spirited pranks? A-Dan was usually so sweet. With a pang, MK wondered if this was because she thought being aggressive was normal and okay. It wouldn’t be too far-fetched since this world was ruled by a Monkey King who thrived in violence.

MK really had to find a way back home and soon.

Beside him, Red Son was covered from head to toe with paint, mud, and overripe fruit. By now, MK’s own Red Son would’ve been fuming at having his clothes ruined, but this one only looked between MK and A-Dan with a worried crease in his brow. He raises his hands placatingly with a strained smile. “It’s all right, my Prince! You don’t need to make Princess Xiaodan apologize! It’s just a small mess that can easily be cleaned up. I am fine! I-”

MK cut him off with a shake of his head. “This is the fifth time she’s done this to you! Today! And she did something similar to Mei last week! And she’d do it to Jin and Yin too whenever they drop by for a friendly spar.”

“…There are other demons trying to court you?”

“Not important.” MK ignored Red Son’s enraged spluttering in favor of looking back up at the tree where A-Dan was pouting and pointedly ignoring MK. “A-Dan, apologize.”

A-Dan stuck her tongue out. “No.”

“A-Dan,” MK said warningly.

“No!” She cried out stubbornly from her perch on the tree. She turned her nose up at Red Son. “Dun wanna! Dumb Red!”

“No mean name-calling! You know better, A-Dan. Red Son doesn’t deserve mean names, he deserves an apology.”

“NO!”

MK’s already fragile patience snapped. “That’s it. If you’re not going to apologize, then you leave me with no other choice. Time out and no bedtime stories for tonight.”

A-Dan was shocked at MK’s abrupt decision to punish her. It was no surprise. This was the first time MK had to play the “bad guy” when babysitting her. When she fully processed his firm verdict, her face twisted with hurt and betrayal. Her eyes welled up with tears.

“A-DAN HATE GEGE!” She shouted loudly, startling some of the nearby birds from their perch. The moment the words left her mouth, she gasped and stared at MK with horror.

“…Gege?”

“…”

MK didn’t know what expression he had on his face, but whatever it was, it made A-Dan burst into loud, sobbing wails.

The effect was immediate. Wukong and Macaque seemingly materialized out of nowhere. The darker furred monkey wasted no time in climbing up the tree to check A-Dan over. When it was confirmed that she wasn’t physically hurt, he plucked her from the branch and held her close, cooing into her ears as she cried into his chest. After sharing a look with Wukong, he shadow-portaled them both away.

Wukong, on the other hand, tried to get the story out of Red Son and MK.

But MK was completely unresponsive, leaving it to Red Son to shakily explain what happened. When the fire demon got to the part about A-Dan’s declaration that she “hated Gege,” Wukong audibly winced and sent MK a pitying look.

“I think it’ll be best if I send you back to Brother Ox for the day.” It wasn’t a suggestion. Wukong never suggested. He ordered. He demanded.

And Red Son, for once, did not fight the dismissal. On a normal day, he’d fight for some more time, but he knew which battles shouldn’t be fought. After giving MK a soft farewell, Red Son left the mountain in a flurry of flames - mess and all.

MK just stared straight at nothing as A-Dan’s words rattled again and again in his head. She hated him. She hated him.

A logical part of him knew she didn’t mean it. That it was said in anger. But another part of him that clung onto A-Dan as his last anchor in this world so familiar yet so unfamiliar reeled at the prospect that she hated him and would hate him forever.

MK was shaken out of his thoughts. Literally. The Monkey King had him by the shoulders and stared him right in the eyes.

“Pick up your staff, kid. We’re sparring.”

Again, not a request, but an order. MK, still reeling from A-Dan’s words, could only comply. He got batted around at first - this Wukong didn’t do as well as his own in holding back - but then, he fell right into the familiar rhythm of sparring against his mentor. It was a bit harder, but MK needed the challenge.

No matter how hard the strikes landed or how many times he was thrown down by Wukong’s strength, he got back up.

As MK met every one of Wukong’s strikes, the Monkey King started to grin, then smile, then full out laugh. It wasn’t one of the cheeky ones MK was familiar with, the one that A-Dan inherited. It was wild and dangerous and completely unlike his mentor.

And for once, MK didn’t mind. His mouth hurt as he mirrored the smile as he continued to stand his ground. It went on for hours until after the sun went down and the moon rose.

“Good form! You did great, bud!” Wukong praised him at the end of it all. There was pride in his eyes so familiar that, for a moment, MK could pretend that it was his mentor standing right in front of him praising him after an arduous day of training.

Instead of giving him comfort, it only made the homesickness festering in his chest worse. His chest ached to return to his own world where he was MK the Monkie Kid, not MK the Prince of the Three Realms. MK was so, so afraid that the longer he and A-Dan and he stayed here, the more she would change and forget about their home. If that ever happened, he’d be the only one left and the thought of it clogged his throat with fear. He wanted to go home. He wanted to go home.

“Monkey King?” MK’s voice cracked with vulnerability as he hugged his staff to his chest. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Aww, son. No, don’t cry. C’mere.” MK felt arms wrap around him and draw him close into a hug. It was a hug with nuzzles and deep purring. It was…nice. MK didn’t know that this Wukong could give nice hugs. “A-Dan didn’t mean it. You know that, right? She loves you a lot. Emotions just ran a bit too high and she said something she didn’t mean.”

MK sniffled. He felt Wukong’s hand card through his hair and heard the Monkey King make crooning chirps.

“You both take after Moonlight and me a little too much sometimes,” he chuckled with some bitter irony lacing his tone after MK calmed down. “You cubs even argue like us. A-Dan might look like her Mama, but she got my temper and she ends up saying things she doesn’t mean. And you’re a little bit more like Moonlight when he gets upset. You kinda shut down like him when you get overwhelmed.”

MK froze. “Say what now?”

Wukong gave his head a light pat. “Don’t worry, that just means that it’ll take time and time apart for tempers to cool and things to get back to normal again.” Then, probably misunderstanding the alarmed sway of MK’s tail, he quickly added, “We can try to give A-Dan some gifts to make her forgive you faster. How about that, bud? …Bud?”

MK’s whole body shook. His attempts to keep in the hysterical laughter bubbling up his throat end up failing. The panic and uncertainty in Wukong’s face when he drew back only made MK laugh harder.

“Oh wow, I was an idiot,” he managed to say between gasps and giggles. MK somehow got a hold of himself after a few more minutes. He wiped his eyes and smiled at Wukong. “Let’s go back to the palace. I need to talk to A-Dan.”

When MK and Wukong reached the palace, they found A-Dan still sniffling in Macaque’s arms. Upon their entrance, she immediately hid her face into the crook of Macaque’s neck. Sending MK an apologetic look, the dark furred monkey drew her closer. “Maybe right now is not the best time, MK. You can come back tomorrow and try again when she’s not as upset.”

“A-Dan?” MK called out softly, ignoring Macaque. “A-Dan, you don’t have to talk to me or look at me. That’s okay. I just wanted you to know that I’m not angry.”

A-Dan cautiously peered at MK. “…No?”

“No.” MK sat down on the ground so she was peering down at him. “I was hurt by what you said, but I’m not angry. You were hurt too, right?”

A-Dan nodded.

“I can’t always know what you’re feeling or thinking, A-Dan,” MK told her gently. “You need to turn those things into words and tell them to me. Remember the story about the Hero with the Broken Mouth and the Warrior with the Broken Ears? Well, I had broken ears today and I’m sorry about that. I promise to listen, not hear, as long as you talk to me.”

A-Dan nodded, untangling herself from Macaque. “Okay. A-Dan talk.”

MK smiled encouragingly. “Thank you. Now…can you tell me why you were upset, A-Dan? Did Red Son do something to you that was mean when I wasn’t looking? Is that why you don’t like him?”

A-Dan fidgeted. “…No.”

Well. That’s a relief. But still, it didn’t answer MK’s questions. “Then why?”

“Scared.”

MK startled at that. “Scared? Do you think Red Son is scary?” Then, he remembered the other victims of her pranking. “Mei too?” That didn’t make sense. A-Dan adored the Mei in their own world. To his relief and confusion, she shook her head.

“Take Gege away,” A-Dan mumbled. “Gege play Red. Gege play Mei-Mei. No more A-Dan play.” Her expression fell. “Take Gege from A-Dan.”

MK’s heart broke. “A-Dan…”

A-Dan started to tear up again, but they were angry tears this time. “No take Gege. My Gege. Mine!”

In no time, MK climbed back up onto his feet and snatched A-Dan into a tight hug. “Oh, A-Dan, no. I’m not going to leave you behind for someone else. Not Red Son. Not Mei. You’re the most important person in the world to me. If anything, I’ll bring you with me if I have to go somewhere else. But never without you. Ever.”

A-Dan sniffled. “Ever?”

“Ever. And I’m sorry if you felt left out whenever they visited. I never meant for you to feel that way,” MK apologized. “I’ll do better, A-Dan. Promise to tell me if you feel like that again? No more pranks for hurting. Just tell me and I’ll fix it.”

“Promise.” A-Dan nuzzled MK. “Sorry Gege. Love. No hate. Sorry.”

MK felt relief hit him and his shoulder sagged as if a mountain fell off his back. “I love you too, A-Dan. And you know what? I was a little scared about losing you too.”

A-Dan stared up at MK incredulously. “Ah?!”

MK grinned. “Yeah. You spent more time on pranks that there wasn’t any time for Gege. Don’t you know how lonely I was without my A-Dan? I thought you loved pranks more than me.” He dramatically sniffled and made a sobbing noise. “Your poor Gege was jealous and heartbroken.”

“Noooooo! A-Dan love Gege!” A-Dan cried out, throwing her arms around MK as best she could, which wasn’t much with her tiny arms, but it was the thought that counted. “No prank. Promise. A-Dan sorry Red. A-Dan sorry Mei-Mei.”

“No mean pranks,” MK corrected her gently. “You can do fun pranks. We can do it together after you apologize to Red Son and Mei. How does that sound?”

“Yay! Gege play!”

In the background Wukong and Macaque sighed in relief and smiled. In mid-celebration, A-Dan yawned. “Oh geez, it’s way past your bedtime, A-Dan. You must be exhausted. Time to sleep.”

“Noooo,” A-Dan whined. “Gege story.”

“Okay, since you said you’ll apologize, I’ll tell you a story - but only one! So choose wisely!”

A-Dan, of course, chose the story of the Hero and the Warrior. It was her favorite to hear. And it was fitting since it was this exact story’s lesson that helped him and A-Dan reconcile.

A-Dan settled in bed between Wukong and Macaque. MK cleared his throat and tried to put on his best storytelling voice. “Once upon a time, there was a Hero and a Warrior. The Hero and the Warrior were like the Sun and the Moon…”

MK was regretful that he couldn’t manipulate the shadows like his Macaque did to make the story come to life, but he made sure to put his heart into the performance.

“…The Hero learned to speak from the heart and the Warrior learned to listen instead of hear. Their bond was stronger than it’s ever been.”

MK was suddenly interrupted by a soft snore. He looked up to see Wukong and A-Dan sleeping. Macaque, on the other hand, seemed enraptured by the story. “Go on,” he encouraged. “What happens next?”

“Healed and back together, the Hero and the Warrior celebrated their reunion by bringing a little dawn into the world,” MK continued softly.

“A-Dan.”

“Yes. A-Dan,” MK agreed. “And they lived happily ever after until the end of time. The end.”

“That was a beautiful story,” Macaque murmured. Then, when MK yawned, he patted the space in the bed between himself and A-Dan. “Time for bed, cub.”

MK couldn’t find it in himself to refuse. He was too tired to make the trek back to his room so he crawled onto the bed and settled in Macaque’s hold. As the darker-furred monkey hummed, MK felt himself drifting to sleep. Usually, he’d fall asleep with a heavy heart that missed his home. He still missed his home, but tonight?

Tonight, his heart felt light.

[linesfromzaun]

Can I ask for more Dad!Silco x Mother!Reader, Baby!Jinx 🥺🙏?

Of course!!! I had this idea in my head for a bit, and imma put it here since y’all love it so much!!

Rating: G

Tags: crying baby, Silco being a good husband, fluff, comfort

Piercing wails from the cradle across the room wakes you from your sleep.

Jinx was a little over 9 weeks, and went from a peaceful baby to child who could barely sleep. You worried for her, hoping nothing was wrong.

You sat up to comfort Jinx for what felt like the millionth time tonight, until a hand grasped your forearm.

“I’ve got her, get some rest. I will call the doctor shortly to see if anything is troubling her.” You give an exhausted nod and lie back down under the covers.

You hear the faint whispers of Silco hushing Jinx and saying sweet words to her. He takes her out of the room to the office, allowing you to have some peace.

As much as you wanted to fall back asleep, all you could do was think about Jinx and her health. Your chest felt tight and the head swam with anxiety. What we’re you doing wrong? What if you weren’t meant to be a mother?

Once Silco had gotten her to calm down, he placed her back in her cradle with her stuffed monkey to fall asleep. Sighing, he got back under the covers with you. Your sniffling alerted him, and he instantly pulled you into his arms. “It’s alright, we’ll figure out what is wrong.”

“What am I doing wrong, Sil?” A kiss is pressed to your forehead and he wipes away a stray tear.

“You are doing nothing wrong, you are a wonderful mother.” You curl into him, allowing him to rest his chin on the crown of your head.

____

The next morning consisted of getting Jinx ready for a check up, and Silco being there every step of the way. He knew how your postpartum anxiety was, to not be able to do anything to ease it was eating him from the inside out.

“This doctor took very good care of you, I am sure she will do the same for Jinx.”

“You are doing the best you can, that is the best mother Jinx could ever ask for.”

“I am so proud of you, my love, and I am here no matter what.”

When you finally arrived, the doctor was quick to take you both in and see Jinx.

“Silco, you informed me that she hasn’t been sleeping well?” The doctor grabs a clipboard and he nods silently. “Any other symptoms that have been abnormal for her?”

“I’ve noticed she has been spitting up a lot more, sometimes she doesn’t even want to eat.” The doctor nods and writes some more down on her clipboard.

“Mom, is it okay if I give Jinx a few pokes? I think I might know what’s bothering her.” You nod and allow her to take Jinx, watching closely. “Hiya, cutie! I’m gonna poke your belly a little bit, and if you don’t show any signs of pain, I’m just going to take a liiiitle swab and see if my first guess is right.”

The doctor lies her down on the soft padded table and gives Jinx a few tiny presses with her fingers. Jinx let’s out a little giggle at the ticklish feeling, and you and Silco relax. “So no pain there, let me swab your mouth real quick aaaaaaand done! Okay, you can go back to mommy and daddy, I promise I’m done!” She gently hands you back Jinx, and you kiss her head. “I’ll be right back, I’m going to test this pH level, nothing bad! Just a routine test.”

Once the nurse exits the door you turn to Silco, who’s leg is bouncing at a thousand miles an hour. “I’m surprised I didn’t throw up.” Silco let’s out a chuckle at your honesty and rubs your back with a free hand.

“You did look a little pale, my dear.” He rests his elbows on his knees and looks at Jinx. “You’ve given us quite the scare, little one, I am glad your tummy doesn’t hurt.” You smile as he presses a kiss to her cheek and she smiles at him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say the word “tummy” before.” Silco rolls his eyes is fein embarrassment.

“It’s only for my little girl, don’t get comfortable with it.” You giggle and watch as Jinx toys with his fingers, smiling as they wiggle in her hands.

A knock on the door is heard and you both straighten up. “So, her saliva did test for a low pH, but if anything: I only have good news. What she has is a little acid reflux, but it is temporary and extremely treatable.” You let out a huge sigh and hold Jinx a little tighter. “I’m guessing when she does eat, she consumes a lot of milk?”

“Yeah, she eats like it’s her last meal.” The doctor laughs and writes something down.

“So, we’re going to have to break up her meals more, pace her throughout the day. Try to have her sit up as she feeds if she’s having a particularly bad episode. Have her upright at least 2-3 hours after feeding. Keep her on that route and she’ll be back to her normal self!”

“Thank you, we appreciate it so much.”

“Not a problem at all, I’m glad she’s okay! Jinx has some good parents to check on her like this.” You smile and allow your little family to be escorted out of the building.

Once you had arrived home, you get so much calmer. Doing as the doctor ordered and once Silco had gotten her to sleep: it stayed that way.

Walking out of your shared bedroom, you walked up to him and pulled him into you. You kiss him deeply and wrap your arms around his neck. Pulling away, you see a slight blush on his nose and cheek.

“Well, that was a lovely surprise.”

“That’s my “thank you” to you, I think I would’ve lost my shit if I didn’t have you here.” He chuckles and pulls you in closer.

“No “thank you’s” needed, I’m doing just as I swore in my vows to you.”

[aquilathefighter]

Fluffbruary 20: Lounge

Another late one! Find all my @fluffbruary ficlets on AO3 here!

Fandom: The Sandman (2022)

Relationship: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Dream is led by hand down the stairs into a dim room. A jazz lounge. The air is laden with cigarette smoke and the rich tones of whiskey and gin. Low tables decorate the area, some groups already seated and chatting before the main event. The women are dressed in shimmering silk gowns, gilded with beads that catch the dim light and scandalously show off their calves. The men are equally stunning in suits of all colors, catching flashes of pinstripes and checkered vests.

But Hob, Hob he could stare at all night. His chocolate wool suit brings out the warmth of his skin, his eyes, his hair. The man practically glows reflecting all the light in the room in his amber eyes. Dream’s eyes trail down his body, noticing the slim fit of his trousers, finding it difficult to tear his eyes away. Hob squeezes his hand.

“C’mon, love. Can’t just stare at my bum all night! The show’s about to start and I still haven’t been to the bar!” Hob teases.

Dream lets him drag him toward the bar. He prefers to consume beverages in the Dreaming; Dreamstuff doesn’t have any of the strange flavors and textures that Waking food and drink do. He lets Hob order them drinks, knowing without a doubt he’ll make him try some cocktail on account of being “period accurate.” They watch the bartender shake their drinks, tossing the shaker up in the air, then pours them out into two glasses. Hob snatches them up and points his chin toward a table.

“Let’s sit over there, then I can tell you all about the drink I picked out for us.”

Dream pulls out a chair for Hob, not to be out-gentlemanned tonight. Then he seats himself next to Hob, scooting the chair as close as possible. Hob slides the bright orange drink toward him and leans in to make sure Dream hears him as the band begins to warm up.

“Take a sip, love,” he whispers in Dream’s ear. “It’s got gin, orange juice, absinthe, and grenadine. I’m sure you’ll love it, what with your sweet tooth.”

Dream smirks and tries the drink. It is good, the juniper from the gin mixing with the tart citrus making him feel more alert. He hums in approval.

Lips still brushing his ear, Hob whispers, “Good, right? It’s called a monkey gland.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Hob chuckles, “A monkey gland! Some guy thought grafting them on to people would give them long life or something. So they named a drink after that, for some reason.” He shrugs. “Still tastes good.”

He takes a sip of his own drink, finding Dream’s hand under the table and giving it a squeeze.

“Now, you ready for some bloody good music? Might even get you to dance tonight if I’m good,” he winks, knowing how much it drives Dream crazy.

The bandleader counts out a measure, then the room explodes in brass, wood, and string. The rhythm section is non-stop, a train chugging its way till the end of the line. The clarinet howls it's response.

Hob starts to sway back and forth, squeezing Dream’s hand on the off-beats. He glances at Dream, grinning. Dream gives him a small smile back as the first solo begins. The trombonist wails, jumping from first position to sixth and back, keeping time with his whole body.

By the time the second soloist stands, Hob is pushing his chair back and pulling Dream to stand up. The trumpet blares, the mute making it sound even brighter as he hits the notes one after one. The syncopation makes his heart beat faster as they step onto the dancefloor.

Dream turns to face him, placing a hand on his shoulder and the other out expectantly.

“Really!? You’ll dance with me?” Hob asks as he takes hold of Dream’s waist and pulls him close. The dances of this time were so scandalous compared to just a few decades earlier. The Victorian age was so rigid and it felt like they didn’t even dance to have fun! But the foxtrot and Charleston, those were about getting up close and personal with your dance partner, having a good time.

Hob laces his fingers through Dream’s and takes the first step. The clarinet is honking and wailing as they step to the beat, back and forth, Dream spinning at Hob’s indication perfectly. Hob is lost as he watches his love in motion. He can’t peel his eyes away from Dream.

As the song ends, Dream pulls Hob even closer. They’re pressed together from shoulder to thigh, Hob panting although he does not need to breathe in the Dreaming. Dream drags his hand from Hob’s shoulder, up the length of his neck, to caress the back of his head. His fingers brush the short strands, delighting in the texture. Hob gazes up at him, grinning. Looking at him like a man who has been lost at sea looks at the land for the first time in years. Absolute awe and devotion make their home in Hob’s honeyed eyes.

Dream has to lean in for a kiss in that moment. The way Hob’s sweat makes his skin shine and the pulsing of his lungs against Dream’s body are irresistible. As their lips touch, Hob groans; his hands tighten around Dream’s middle like he could absorb him into his body. Dream kisses him harder, even as the next song starts up and dancers move around them. Hob flicks his tongue across his bottom lip, nipping as he continues to press himself to Dream. He opens his mouth in response, Hob’s tongue immediately breaching the gap to taste Dream in his element. He tastes different in the Dreaming, like something more. Sweet and longing like the last berry of summer, of wintergreen tea saved for the fall, of first frosts and snowmelt. Hob can’t get enough, licking Dream’s mouth and wrapping their tongues around each other.

Hob eventually pulls back, resting their foreheads together.

“Thank you for indulging me, my love. Can’t wait to see where you take me next.”

“It was my pleasure, Hob Gadling. Dare I say I shall take you dancing again.”

Dream presses one last longing kiss to Hob’s lips as he feels him start to slip from the Dreaming. He will be there to hold them in their bed, to kiss again and again before Hob must get up for work.

[herawell]

nijartham

A snippet of Ramayana fanfic.

~~~

“Do not think for a moment, Sita, that I came for your sake. I fought this war to wipe out the blot that Ravana’s insult was upon my own name, to uphold the honor of the House of Ikshvaku, and for dharma.”

The past fourteen years should stand as testimony to the depth of Rama and Sita’s love: she crossed the length and breadth of the Dandaka forest for him, he the ocean for her. And yet here, after a year of cruel separation and at the culmination of an exhaustive war fought in her name, on the very soil where vanaras and rakshasas spilled their blood for her, Rama sunders their bond with his own words, his own deeds.

There is something thunderous, something exquisite about seeing such perfection razed, as decisively as Lanka was.

Sita’s eyes are red and glittering, set in a face rendered gaunt by Ravana’s atrocities and wan by Rama’s own. Around her is an aghast crowd, beset by wails and protests. Alone amongst them, she stands tall and brittle.

“Do not think that I came with you for your sake, my husband. Out of loyalty or wifely love. I did it for my own safety.”

She is daughter of the famed orator Janaka, and every word falling from her lips is a cruelly crafted arrow finding its mark. The outcries of the praja subside to hear her.

“A woman’s husband is her protection. He is bound to shield her, even if he cares nothing for her. All women know this, know it as one of their few prerogatives.”

She pauses, as though waiting for a reply. None comes.

“You were willing to leave me behind in Ayodhya. Even though you promised my father at our wedding to always care for me. Even though you suspected Bharata -- why else did you tell me never to praise you in his hearing? I know you suspected him, despite all your saintliness. Even though you knew what Kaikeyi was.”

A single wail rises from the crowd, perhaps a child crying. Sita’s pallu has fallen in her agitation, leaving her riot of curls to tumble down her shoulders and back. She wears silks for the first time in fourteen years, and she looks starker than she ever did in deerskin.

“You knew, but you did not care. You did not know -- none of us could have predicted -- that Bharata would choose your paduka over the crown.”

Lakshmana glances sidelong at his brother. Rama’s face does not waver, does not alter in its resolution. Is this the man who wept so fiercely after he found the hut empty, driven insane enough to ask the trees and plants if they had seen his wife? Who roused an army of monkeys to fight for a queen they had never met, who gave shelter to a demon defector, who felled an evil king?

“As best as you and I knew, I would be alone in a hostile court, with Bharata sitting the throne and Kaikeyi as queen mother. I knew -- I believed -- that I was safer in the forests, surrounded by the trees, with you, than in the palace, surrounded by royalty, with no husband.”

The younger vanara Queen, Ruma of Kishkindha, redrapes and reknots her sari more firmly.

“So I insisted on leaving with you, and finally threatened my own life when appealing to your duty did not work. Do not think to warm yourself, husband, with the sweet memory of how your wife loved you enough to choose exile for you. I did it for myself, for you had shown where your priorities lay, and only I was going to act in my own interest. And today, I am vindicated in guessing how much my faith was worth.”

Sita’s voice breaks for the first time, as she ducks her chin.

“In this, at least, we are equals, I suppose, husband.”

At long last, a tear slides down Rama’s face.

[fandomwriterstuff]

Getaway Car

Another plot-filled Rick Flag fic from me! I might add another chapter if this goes over well so let me know your thoughts!

~2.2k words

Rated T

You're the Suicide Squad's getaway driver and you're got a serious crush on their commanding officer, Rick Flag.

You were what one might call a liability in the operation. You weren’t a soldier under Amanda Waller’s thumb, and you weren’t a prisoner that she could threaten. You were purely there for the thrill at first. But you kept coming back for him. Rick Flag. The commanding officer of your dreams, a real hero. You weren’t sure if you idolized him or wanted to fuck him. Maybe it was a bit of both.

But as you sat in the car and eyed up the team sprinting out of the building, you skipped to your getaway song - Brianstorm by Arctic Monkeys - and revved the engine.

“Punch it, Baby!” Harley cackled as the three prisoners (plus Rick) slammed themselves into your vehicle.

You didn’t need to be told twice.

You thought it over as you narrowly evaded enemy trucks and sped down a dirt road. You were technically working for the law, so they shouldn’t need a getaway car, but they always were getting themselves into tight spots so you supposed it made sense.

It was a few minutes of beating drums, wild guitar solos, and Harley’s cackles as the playlist continued (House of the Rising Sun by the Animals came on just as you dared to slow down). You finally looked over to your right, and raised an eyebrow.

“You doing alright, Colonel?” You took stock of the dark, wet blood covering the left side of his face and the way he was cradling his right fist.

“Never better, darlin,” he offered you a signature smirk and you gave a nod before turning back to the road. You were on a main stretch now, paved and full of other vehicles. You’d likely lost your pursuers but it was your job to get away from them, so you kept an eye on the horizon behind you.

“How you always seem to be in the right place at the right time blows my mind, kid,” Boomer huffed a relieved laugh from the backseat.

“That’s sort of my job,” you replied in kind, smirking into the rearview mirror as you pulled onto the highway that would take you straight back to Belle Reve.

“You don’t talk about your job much though, I noticed,” he pushed and you rolled your eyes. You didn’t talk about yourself, and you didn’t talk about how you got into the getaway business.

“I like to have an air of mystery,” you caught the amused smile Rick tried to hide and brushed your hair back out of your eyes.

“What I’m wonderin,” he continued as if you hadn’t spoken, his accent coming through as he leaned forward through the gap between you and Rick. “Is how a pretty young thing like you got involved with a cold hearted bitch like Amanda Waller.”

You tightened your grip on the wheel (hopefully imperceptibly), and offered a light smile over to him.

“We’ve all got a past, Boomerang Man. Mine didn’t land me in prison, but I’m still here working for you weirdos,” you laughed and signaled your exit towards the Louisiana based metahuman prison.

“I’ll get your story some day, sweet cheeks, you’ll see,” he leaned back as you showed your identification to the guard and pulled into the penitentiary.

After you let the three prisoners off at their dropoff location (like a bunch of kindergarteners going to school), you pulled up to the employee parking area.

“You sure you’re alright?” You were quieter this time, worriedly glancing over at Rick again now that you were alone.

“Don’t you go worrying about me, pretty girl,” he pulled out all the stops with the cute pet name and the thousand megawatt smile, eyes warm and inviting. You were a goner, and you immediately dropped the subject. “I’ll see you in the debrief room,” you sighed after he’d closed the door and pulled the vehicle into your spot.

Another day, another debrief with that fucking psychopath Waller.

You smoothed down your jeans and t-shirt, you might work for the (wo)man, but you weren’t about to dress like a stuck up business person, or like a prison guard. You were too young for that bullshit.

“Baby,” Amanda Waller greeted you as you passed her into the meeting room. You hid your smirk, as you always did, when you took your seat. You’d forged all of your documentation upon taking this job, knowing that you didn’t want this woman knowing anything about your personal life. She didn’t know your real name, hell, she might not even know that Baby was your pseudonym. You sort of felt bad that you hadn’t ever told Rick your name, but you couldn’t risk it.

The debrief was a mess. You’d gotten out with the information the team went in for, but two out of the four of them were injured. Including the Colonel.

“Seems like the only person doing their job here is the fucking chauffer,” Waller spat before turning her eyes on a still-bloodied Rick Flag. “You can do better than this,” she spoke quietly before walking out. The others emptied out, leaving you leaning back in your chair, cotton candy pink Barbie™ t-shirt nearly glowing in the fluorescent lighting.

“I think you’re going to give her an aneurysm. She doesn’t know your identity and you don’t follow the dress code,” Rick had his eyes closed at the end of the long table, but he somehow knew you were alone in there together. You bit your lip. So she knew ‘Baby’ was a pseudonym. Good to know.

“She can’t get rid of me, she needs me,” you shrugged, nonchalant, but this was the wrong answer and you knew it immediately. You’d been working with Rick long enough to see the telltale signs of stress. Tightened shoulders, biceps bulging in his uniform, that vein struggling at his throat.

“You should be out there living your life, Baby,” his eyes shot open, darker than you’d ever seen them. “You shouldn’t be working yourself to death for Amanda Waller. Not like me and these guys. You don’t have a reason to be here,” you looked down, picking at the skull ring on your middle finger. You did have a reason. You were addicted to the feeling of being near Rick. You were obsessed with the way he spoke to you, the way he leaned in close when he was joking around with you, the way his eyes lit up when you made him laugh.

“I’m not about to tell you my life story in an audio and visually recorded meeting room,” you finally spoke, tone harsher than you intended. You stood, turned away from him and towards the door, your voice carrying as you exited. “You’re gonna have to buy me a drink if you want to get anything out of me.”

You didn’t look back to see the slack-jawed look on his face as you sauntered out of the debrief room.

You were in the deep swamp lands of Central Florida this time. Not your favorite place to be. You were blasting the air conditioning in the car as Stick Up by grandson blasted through the car stereo, your favorite angry song to listen to. This wasn’t a job you wanted to be on, but you had a contract and you were making money, and you got to work with Rick again, so it was alright. But it was a new team. Harley was out of jail and Boomer was injured from a prison fight. They were the two people you normally worked with other than Rick.

You had a gut feeling that something was going to go down, but you didn’t know what.

“Start the car!” one of the new members shouted and you frowned. The car was on already. But whatever, you shifted into Drive and waited for Rick and Co. to make it to the car. Only it was just the one guy. He hopped into the backseat and stared at you with wide eyes.

“What are you doing, get us out of here!” He was shouting but you aggressively put the car into Park.

“Where’s Rick? Where’s the rest of the team?”

“Dude, get us out of here!” The man was clearly panicking, and you glanced over at the building the team were supposed to infiltrate, biting your lip.

“Baby, why aren’t you moving?” Waller asked in your ear.

“It’s just the circus freak dude, no Rick, and no team members,” you replied calmly. “What are my orders?”

“Get us out!” The circus freak dude in question (you didn’t bother to ask his name), was bemoaning your existence from the backseat and you snapped. You jerked the center console open and pulled out your gun, pointing it back at him.

“Shut your mouth, or I’ll shut you up myself,” you put all of your fear, rage, and contempt into your glare, staring down the psycho prisoner just enough to put the fear of a woman into him, and he backed down.

“Colonel Flag is alive in there, but he’s the last one. Get in there, pick him up, and get out,” you grinned, shark-like at Waller’s voice. You could do that. You revved the engine, put the car into Drive, and hauled ass towards the building. You tuned out the moaning and wailing from the backseat and flicked the switch that activated your enhanced shields. With that in place, you drove straight towards the brick building at full speed. You could do this. You could do this. You hyped yourself up and didn’t flinch when the car made impact with the wall, immediately breaking through and skidding into a large open room. You looked around, assessing the group of men with guns pointing towards a closed door. Rick must be in there. You flipped another switch, this one with a gun sticker above it, and pulled at the steering wheel to aim the guns that came out of the front of the car. When all of the men finally turned towards you, you opened fire on them.

You’d killed for Waller before, usually by hitting people with the car, and while this was thrilling, you’d never had to actually use a gun on someone before. When they were all down, you pulled the car up, trying to ignore the crunching of bodies under the tires and opened the passenger side window.

“Get in the fucking car, Flag,” you screeched, and the door creaked the tiniest bit open. Rick peeked his head out, looked around for a hot second before locking eyes with you, and walked over before putting his ass in the passenger seat.

“I didn’t know the car had a gun in it,” he muttered, scratching at the back of his neck.

“Oh she has several,” the circus dude piped up from the back, and Rick side eyed you before promptly yelling at the other for leaving him behind. You took that as your cue to get the fuck out of there.

“You haven’t said anything in two hours,” Rick finally said as you entered Louisiana. He’d been on the phone with Waller for a while and then writing his debrief up on his phone.

“I’ve never shot anyone before. It’s a tad stressful,” you didn’t let on how nerve-wracking it had been to think you’d lost him, but you especially didn’t let on how freaked out you were about opening fire on a group of over a dozen men. You shrugged and kept your eyes on the road. He nodded in understanding. You didn’t want to talk about it. You appreciated his silence. When you finally dropped the circus dude off you had about six minutes before making it back to Rick’s dropoff.

“Baby?” He asked as you slowed down for a stop sign. You hummed in question, but he put his hand over yours, and you kept your foot on the brake as he shifted the car into park. You looked over at him, a frown on your face until he reached out and cupped your jaw with one calloused palm. His thumb brushed over your bottom lip and it felt like time wasn’t passing anymore.

“Thank you for coming back for me,” he murmured, and damn you thought he might kiss you. He didn’t, though. He tucked a stray piece of hand behind your ear, the feel of his fingertips caressing your neck made you shiver, and he smirked at the sight. It suddenly dawned on you.

He knew exactly what he did to you. He knew exactly how he was making you feel. That turned you the fuck on. He was teasing you.

“I think I’d like to take you out for that drink tonight, darlin. Maybe you’ll give me a good story. Maybe I’ll finally get your name,” he was so close to you, and god but you wanted to kiss him. But as you leaned in, he leaned back with a growing grin.

“Who knows, maybe you’ll get what you want, too,” he whispered before sitting back in his seat. “I’ll grab you after the debrief,” and that was him dismissing your advances until a later time. So, you put the car into Drive and pulled up to his drop off location. Luckily it had taken all day to get back to Belle Reve, so you’d only have to wait for the debrief to be over and it would be around eight at night. You’d finally get a drink with Rick tonight. You smiled to yourself as you pulled the car into your spot. Things would be changing.

[hxseok-honee]

blossom | part 16

blossom [part 16] || 'Hoseokie'

[‘cause all i need is to see you blossom out, blossom out, blossom out]

previous || masterlist || next

a/n : I cant tell if this is a hobi chapter or a yoongi chapter but i am very in love with them both thats for sure -- lmk what you think!

“Hobi, hi!” Y/n had practically slammed face first into the front door in her rush to answer it, and she’s a little breathless when she finally greets him. She’d honestly been expecting maybe a different, more confident Hoseok than the one she’d become familiar with to be standing there -- after all, he certainly looks the part today. But she’s pleasantly surprised to find that he’s still the same old Hoseok, rocking back and forth on his heels on her porch while he takes in the exterior of her home with bright, wide eyes.

He turns those eyes to her now, his smile boyishly charming as his red ears poke out cutely from beneath his winter hat.

“Y/n! Your house is so cute!” The compliment rolls off his tongue immediately, because frankly it’s all he could think about as he’d walked up the path to her door. It suits her perfectly, this lovely little home on the outskirts of town. He holds up a bag when she thanks him, shaking it lightly while he steps inside, following her into the entryway.

“I know you said no gifts, but I couldn’t show up with nothing!” He sets the bag into her waiting hands, pulling out four flower crowns -- they’re perfect, clearly crafted with care and delicacy that borders on professional. Each one is unique in size and style, somehow a set of matching winter crowns but created with individual intent. She can’t even bother to hide the look of endearment she shoots him.

“Hobi, you really didn’t have to do all of this.” He waves her off while he removes his hat, and she sets the bag down so she can take his coat while he explains.

“It’s nothing, seriously. I didn’t know what I could possibly buy you and your family because I don’t know what they like, so I thought I’d stick to something I know… I tried to make the one for your dad a bit more, uh -- manly? It was hard, though.” He laughs off his slight embarrassment, but Y/n’s mind is stalling on what he’d said. She turns to him with an awkward smile.

“Ah… I thought the big one might have been to fit Yoongi’s massive head… I think it still would fit him, to be honest.” When Hoseok blinks at her in confusion, she only offers an uncomfortable laugh. “My dad’s not around, actually… There’s only three of us.” Hoseok’s eyes go wide, and he finds himself swearing internally. He hadn’t even noticed that she’d never mentioned her dad before.

“Shoot, I’m sorry -- I didn’t even think about it--”

“No, you’re fine! It’s okay, it’s my fault for forgetting to mention it.” When he tries to apologize again, Y/n only sets the larger flower crown on his head to silence him. It hangs low on his forehead, making her smile. “Seriously, Hobi -- you’re sweet for even thinking of all of this.” He opens his mouth, still feeling unsure, but another voice cuts in before he can say anything.

“Yoonie’s here! Oh-- you’re not Yoonie…” Sliding into the doorway with small socked feet is a literal carbon copy of Y/n -- granted, she’s about a head shorter and very clearly a child, but the resemblance is uncanny. Hoseok blinks at the girl, and she only blinks back, hands on her hips in what can be described only as disappointment. Y/n rolls her eyes playfully.

“Hoseok, meet Hana, my 8-year-old sister. Hana, meet the boy that brought you a handmade flower crown -- so be nice.” Immediately, Hana’s arms are dropping in surprise, her eyes wide as she glances at Hoseok’s hands. He smiles kindly, picking out the crown with the smallest circumference and handing it to her. The girl’s eyes almost sparkle with excitement as she moves to take it from him, fingers delicate as she sets it on her hair.

“I had to guess at what size your head would be, but I hope you like it!” Y/n’s sister blinks up at him with an expectant gaze when he’s done talking, clearly waiting for an assessment.

“Do I look nice?” Hoseok warms immediately, finding the girl entirely endearing. He nods, handing Y/n her own crown while he responds. He has to stop himself from doing a double-take when she puts hers on.

So pretty…

“Yay! Thank you for the pretty crown!” Hoseok blinks, realizing he’d definitely just said that out loud. Luckily, the sisters had taken it as a response to Hana’s question, and he feels relief flood his body at the coincidence. He’s so busy thanking whatever higher power had just saved him from that awkward moment that he misses the sound of the front door opening behind him.

“Yoonie!” Coming back to reality, Hoseok barely has time to jump out of the way as the 8-year-old barrels past him, charging with purpose for the person entering the home.

“Monkey!” The voice that hits his ears is familiar, but it’s entirely unlike the person he knows it belongs to. Looking up, Hoseok can only stare lamely as Hana all but flies through the air, caught securely in the arms of one Min Yoongi. The Slytherin laughs loudly at the sudden attack, swinging the girl around in greeting before taking a good look at her.

“Jeez, do you ever stop growing? I’m getting nervous over here, kid.” Yoongi sees Y/n and Hoseok then, and he greets them with nothing more than a nod and a cool grin.

“Happy Christmas, nerds--” Somehow managing to hold onto Hana with one arm, he extends the other out to Y/n, passing her a large bag of gifts. “The one on top’s for you -- don’t even think about it, loser.” Y/n had peered curiously at the topmost gift when he’d said it was hers, eyeing it with excitement. She rolls her eyes now, letting the bag hang at her side as she waves Hoseok into the next room -- a living room, decked out in warm blankets and an even warmer fireplace. There’s a staircase on the far end of the room, the wooden steps uneven from years of use. The home is small but very clearly lived in, and Hoseok’s happy to think that he’s been allowed into Y/n’s childhood home.

There are a few picture frames on the fireplace mantel, and he can’t help but wander over to them while Y/n sets the gifts under the decorated tree in the corner. He looks over the photos with a smile, listening as Yoongi and Hana catch up behind him.

“What’s that on your head, Monkey? I like it.”

“A flower crown from Y/n’s boyfriend! He said it looks pretty on me.” Y/n chokes on her own saliva when she hears those words -- Y/n’s boyfriend -- and Hoseok finds himself overheating just slightly. He swears it’s from the crackling fire in front of him, and he tugs a few times at the front of his dress shirt in discomfort. Y/n glares at Yoongi, who’s barely managing to contain his laughter.

“Hoseok’s not my boyfriend, Hana--” The girl turns, maneuvering her way out of Yoongi’s arms and onto his back while she responds, clearly confused.

“But the last boy you brought home was Stinky Koo, and he was your boyfriend!” Hoseok’s immensely glad that he’s still facing the fireplace, because the name Stinky Koo is much more amusing to him than it should be. He turns to face them only when he’s got his face under control, but he almost cracks when he sees how proud Yoongi looks -- it must have been him that had nicknamed Jungkook for the young girl.

Desperate to change the subject, Hoseok gestures at the photo in the middle of the mantel -- a portrait of the sisters and their mother.

“Your mom’s beautiful, Y/n. Like a queen.” Y/n smiles shyly, Yoongi nodding appreciatively behind her. He's doing just fine, Yoongi thinks to himself, seeing how obviously nervous Hoseok is.

“Well, thank you, young man! Y/n, I like this boy.” The photograph in question is nothing compared to the woman that enters the room, and Hoseok swears the genetics in this house have seriously won the lottery. Y/n’s mother has the kindest eyes he’s ever seen, and he feels like all he wants right now is to see those eyes look at him with approval. It would mean the world, honestly.

She steps toward the group of kids, smiling sweetly at Hoseok before immediately turning to Yoongi with an evil glint in her eye. The boy never stood a chance, only having enough time to inhale sharply before her fingers are coming down on his cheeks, pinching with all her might. Y/n snorts when Yoongi lets out a pained wail.

“Release me, woman!” Hoseok’s shocked at the tone Yoongi takes with her, but Y/n’s beside him in an instant to do damage control.

“My mom’s favorite pastime is antagonizing him -- Yoongi’s been around long enough that formalities just… don’t exist… You get used to it.” Hoseok only nods as he watches her mom start in on the Slytherin.

“Never in my life have I seen a boy with so little meat on his body -- do you even eat, or is the sickly look in style these days?” The woman pinches at Yoongi’s torso for emphasis, and he starts to wriggle away from her, Hana barely managing to hang onto him for dear life.

“This is why I never come here -- the bullying is insufferable!” Yoongi hops around the living room with the 8-year-old glued to him, racing for the doorway into another room when he sees that Y/n’s mom isn’t giving up anytime soon. She almost follows the pair when they disappear, deciding instead to stay in the room with Y/n and Hoseok, an innocent grin on her face.

“You look much healthier than that bag of bones over there--” Hoseok realizes she’s addressing him and smiles, extending a hand to greet her and ignoring Yoongi when he lets out an enraged ‘hey!’ in the other room.

“You have such a lovely home, Ma’am-- Oh! I made you this!” He’d almost forgotten about his gift, but it’s hanging from the wrist he’s using to shake her hand, making him look both awkward and cute as he struggles to hand it to her with some semblance of elegance. “I hope you like it-- I can mend it if it’s too big! But… I left my bag at home, so I’ll have to run to get the scissors and twine-- Oh, it fits!” Y/n’s mom had watched him stumble over his words for a moment before decisively setting the crown on her head with a smile.

“I love it, Hoseok -- thank you.” He blinks, realizing that she knows his name although he had forgotten to introduce himself, and it clicks that Y/n’s talked about him to her mom before. The shy smile on the Gryffindor’s face only confirms his suspicions, filling him with joy. He smiles brightly, following Y/n’s mom when she waves him into the room where Yoongi had gone.

It’s a kitchen, small but comfortable, with a dining table positioned in the middle of the room. When they enter, they find Yoongi bent over the open oven door, lifting a large dish out of it and setting it on top of the stove. Hana’s clung tightly to his back, but the Sytherin moves around the kitchen with ease, dropping the oven mitts on the counter on his way to grab plates from one of the cabinets. It’s obvious not only that he’s very used to having Y/n’s sister stuck to him, but also that he’s comfortable in this home, fully aware of how the house functions.

“What in the world do you think you’re doing? Get out of my kitchen -- you’ll break something!” Y/n’s mom makes a beeline for Yoongi, swatting him away with an oven mitt scooped up from the counter. He complains loudly, grabbing at it and arguing with the woman.

“Will you please just sit down and let me do this?! You’re in my way -- go sit down, Mom!” It looks like a fight -- by all standards, it’s a mother and son arguing and nothing else. But Hoseok looks around the room, taking in the table full of homemade food, the sink full of dishes from the cooking. He sees the light sheen of sweat on the woman’s face, knowing just by looking that she’d been working tirelessly to make Christmas dinner for them. And when he looks to Yoongi, he sees that the boy knows this, too -- that he’s urging her to sit down and relax, that he’s just making it seem like he’s annoyed instead of openly caring for her. That, along with the fact that Hana is very clearly emotionally attached to the Slytherin, makes it obvious to Hoseok that Yoongi belongs here. That this Yoongi belongs here, not the promiscuous one that the entirety of Hogwarts knows. Hogwarts doesn’t know this Yoongi.

“You’re doing that thing again.” Hoseok jumps, realizing when he turns that Y/n’s watching him closely. He smiles, cocking his head to the side in confusion. The chaos of the room never stops, happening in the background while he and Y/n stand in the doorway.

“What thing?” She grins, pointing at his face.

“That observant badger thing. You’re just watching and taking mental notes.” He flushes slightly, not even realizing that he does this often enough to classify it as a ‘thing’. He gestures to her best friend, a question slipping out in the form of an observation, something he’s apparently good at.

“I didn’t realize Yoongi was good with kids.” Y/n snickers, shaking her head.

“He’s not, actually. One time, he tripped over a kid at the store because he hadn’t seen them walking past, and for the rest of the day he kept saying ‘children are the evil groundhogs of the world… waiting to pop their little heads out of the ground and scare you’. It was kinda dramatic.” Hoseok blinks, utterly dumbfounded by that story because it sounds exactly like something Yoongi say, but the Yoongi in the kitchen right now is not showing any of that malice.

“So… then how did this happen?” He gestures to the pair hopping around the dining table, Hana now clinging to Yoongi’s leg while the boy sets out utensils, all the while bickering with her mom. It’s not hard to imagine, seeing how the girl hangs off of him, why Yoongi calls her Monkey.

“Well -- Hana’s 8, which means Yoongi’s been in her life for… almost the entirety of it. And, although I doubt he’d say it, I know he feels some sense of responsibility for her since our dad’s not around. He’s just kind of always looked after her, so she definitely relies on him a lot.” Y/n looks at peace when she says it, and Hoseok gets the feeling that she appreciates Yoongi’s involvement with her family more than she’s letting on.

“They’re pretty cute… It’s nice to see.” Y/n smirks at Hoseok’s final assessment before beckoning him further into the kitchen, commenting in a low voice as she moves to the table.

“Don’t let Yoongi hear you say that -- his ego needs to be kept under control as it is.” Yoongi looks up when he hears his name, lifting an eyebrow but asking no questions as he examines Hoseok and Y/n. Letting it go, he glances down at the child sitting on his foot.

“Let’s wash our hands, Monkey. I dont need your dirty germs getting in my food.” Hana protests loudly but allows Yoongi to haul her off to the bathroom to wash up. He sets his phone on the table when he goes, and Hoseok can only imagine how much trust he has in Y/n to leave her with it -- especially because it keeps buzzing with notifications, and Hoseok can tell even from here that Yoongi has his message previews on.

When they return, Y/n passes the boy his phone, but not before it lights up again in her hand. Without meaning to, she glances down at it, and Hoseok’s not sure what she sees, but it has Yoongi looking at her with wide eyes once he’s gotten a chance to read it, too. He eyes her almost guiltily, but she only smiles knowingly and turns back to the table, taking the seat next to Hoseok.

“Let’s eat!”

--

Dinner passes surprisingly easily for Hoseok -- he’d been nervous all day, changing and re-changing his clothes until finally he’d just given up and left his apartment. But now, sitting here with Y/n and her family, he feels welcomed, included immediately in the chaos of the group dynamic while they eat. Her mother insists on piling his plate high with insanely delicious food, although it’s not nearly as much as she feeds Yoongi, who looks disgruntled at being called a walking skeleton but eats it all with vigor, anyway.

Just as they’re finishing dinner, Hoseok jumping to his feet to help clear the table, Hana rests her elbows on the wood, peering up at him curiously while he moves around the room. He has to purse his lips to stop himself from smiling when he spots her legs swinging back and forth from her chair, not yet able to reach the floor.

“Who’s that other flower crown for? Is it for you? It’s kinda big on you!” His eyes widen just a fraction, and he looks to Y/n for help as he hums. Y/n starts talking at the same time he does.

“Oh, it’s just an extra--

“He just accidentally made it too big--”

“It’s for me!” Yoongi cuts them both off with finality, sticking his hand out almost childishly for the crown hanging low on Hoseok’s head. Hoseok looks at him in shock, forgetting to mask his emotions for the young girl in front of him. But it’s fine because Hana’s only looking at Yoongi, something the Slytherin's clearly aware of when he waves his awaiting hand, dramatically impatient for her sake.

“But then why haven’t you been wearing it the whole time?” The girl’s questions are straight to the point, and Y/n’s mom starts to tell her not to pry, but Yoongi’s always ready for Hana’s inquiries.

“Obviously, Hoseok’s a little shy about giving me a Christmas gift -- he’s been waiting for the right time!” He sounds so sure of himself, like he actually believes it. But as Hoseok’s lifting the crown off of his head and setting it in Yoongi’s hand, he sees the look the boy gives him, and he knows that Yoongi’s aware of the assumption he’d made about Y/n’s father.

And of course Yoongi knows -- he’d made the exact same mistake the first time he’d visited the home at 11 years old, walking in with expensive gifts for both parents because his mom had always stressed that ‘you never go to someone else’s house empty handed’. Hana was much too young then, only a year old, and Yoongi’s not about to let the girl catch on now and risk souring the Christmas spirit. He knows how insecure she gets sometimes about not having a dad, so he saves Hoseok from the moment with practiced ease.

Looking away from the Hufflepuff and turning to Hana while he sets the crown on his head, he points up at it.

“How’s it look, Monkey?” The girl hums, squinting for a moment before nodding.

“It fits! Probably because you have a big head.” Y/n snorts loudly, even Hoseok coughing out a laugh while he sets dishes in the sink. Yoongi only nods, accepting that he’s just been blatantly insulted by an 8-year-old, made worse by Y/n’s mom running her hand over Hana’s hair in amused approval.

“That’s my girl -- you tell the skinny boy how it is.” Yoongi opens his mouth to protest, but the woman’s standing to retrieve something from the fridge, and immediately his complaints are replaced by an excited gasp.

“Is that--”

“Well, someone’s gotta feed you your favorites!” Hoseok only glances over his shoulder while he and Y/n clean up, seeing that the woman’s setting a pumpkin pie on the counter and reaching for a knife to cut it. Another glance tells him that Yoongi’s argumentative nature’s been won over by the dessert, and he’s standing to help her serve 5 plates of it, shy smile peeking through.

“Thanks, Mom…” The woman grins, bumping him with her hip but not saying anything about the embarrassment on his face. She turns, holding two plates and gesturing toward the fridge while she heads for the living room.

“Grab the whipped cream on your way, will you, Hoseokie?” Hoseok almost drops the dirty plate he’s setting in the sink, all the hair on the back of his neck standing on end when he hears the name Y/n’s mom calls him. Y/n notices that he stills suddenly beside her, but before she can mention it, he’s blinking, the moment gone as he moves to the fridge with a smile.

The group migrates to the living room, Y/n’s mom taking the armchair by the tree while Y/n and Hoseok share the couch. Yoongi’s sitting on the floor with his legs crisscrossed, Hana seated comfortably in his lap. The plates of pie sit on the table next to Yoongi’s head, and he keeps glancing anxiously at them, like he’s wondering if he can sneak a bite without anyone noticing. Y/n’s mom’s voice rings out, and he knows he’s been caught.

“Not a chance, Yoongi -- presents first!” Rolling his eyes but nodding anyway, he turns his attention back to the group, where Y/n is passing out presents to everyone. The biggest ones always go to Hana, who seems very excited but is somehow even more enthused about finally giving everyone her own gifts, small trinkets she’d picked out with immense care during her school’s holiday field trip. Y/n has to stop herself from snapping a photo of Yoongi’s face when he unwraps a snake plushie, watching with amusement when he cradles it close to his chest, eyes full of adoration as he mouths "I love her" to the Gryffindor. Hana doesn’t even notice how dramatically sentimental he is, her short attention span having her already turning to Hoseok with a large smile and a small gift.

“This one’s for you, Hoseokie!” Hoseok chokes on his saliva, paling slightly when he hears that name again. Y/n picks up on it for sure this time, but she doesn’t say anything, not wanting to interrupt his and Hana’s moment.

Hoseok takes the gift with shaking hands, masking whatever’s running through his mind with a shy smile.

“You didn’t have to get me anything, Hana -- thank you!” The girl watches with intense interest while he peels the wrapping paper off, revealing a pink ballpoint pen in the shape of a flower, explaining when he holds it up in the light.

“Y/n told me you liked flowers when I asked! Do you like it?” Hoseok smiles brightly, pressing down on the center of the flower with a quiet click and running the tip of the pen along the knuckle on his thumb to test the ink.

“I love it! I’ll use it every day!” Y/n smiles then, thinking how endearing he’ll look, using a pink ballpoint flower pen in a school that still standardizes quill and ink. But she knows he means it and won’t even think twice about using it. Hana beams up at him, but her eyes become curious almost immediately.

“But -- do you not like the name ‘Hoseokie’? You looked a little sad when I said it…” Y/n cringes, cursing the fact that her sister is both extremely observant and completely lacks a filter. She’s like the perfect mix of Hoseok and Yoongi, something that would be really funny if the situation hadn’t just gotten really uncomfortable.

Hoseok gapes at the girl, letting out a breath of laughter when she only tilts her head to the side curiously. It’s fine that he’d been caught -- it’s just a little embarrassing that it had happened here at Y/n’s family dinner, where he’d been trying to make a good impression and leave only good energy behind. With a slight sigh, he shakes his head to answer Hana’s question.

“I don’t not like ‘Hoseokie’ -- I actually really like it… it’s just--” He glances quickly at Y/n, feeling a bit awkward. “My little sister used to call me that…” Immediately, Y/n’s looking to Yoongi out of the corner of her eye, finding that he’s doing the same, the alarm in his eyes matching her own. Hoseok had never mentioned a sister.

“It’s a little… uncomfortable, so I feel bad…” Hoseok looks to Y/n’s mom then, watching carefully for her reaction when he continues. “My parents run an apiary -- they’re very big nature types, all about the ‘way of the natural world’ and stuff like that… that's why--" He cuts off, gesturing vaguely to the crown on the woman's head. That's why I know how to do this, he means. Clearing his throat, he continues. "So it didn’t really… go well… when I turned 11 and got the letter saying I was a wizard.” Y/n hears Yoongi inhale sharply from where he’s sitting, and she knows he’s putting the pieces together like she is.

When Hoseok sees that Y/n’s mom is watching him with a guarded expression, almost worried about where he’s going with him, he bites at the inside of his cheek nervously. Y/n had never explicitly said it, but he could tell the minute he walked into the house just a few hours ago that she’s also a muggleborn. Wizarding homes always show signs of magic -- dishes that wash themselves, hanging plants that can’t be found anywhere in the muggle world, that kind of thing. He hadn’t seen anything to give away a magical upbringing, almost shocked at how much Y/n’s home reminded him of his own childhood.

He can see now that the woman is glancing at her own daughter, and he knows what she’s thinking. Y/n and Hoseok are the same, but his world had been entirely different. He sees her making that connection, so he just decides to rip off the metaphorical band-aid and finish explaining.

“My parents didn’t want something ‘unnatural’ living in the house, influencing their innocent daughter, so they kicked me out. Agreed to help me pay for an apartment and bills as long as I promised to never reach out to them for anything else -- Dumbledore helped me out the first few summers, let me stay on the grounds since I wasn’t old enough to be on my own. I moved into a place not far from here when I turned 15.”

He’s got his eyes screwed shut now, terrified of the pity he’s going to find when he opens them again. It’s too quiet, and he feels his ears warming, knowing that it looks like he’s been thrown away, discarded. He doesn’t feel that way, having accepted his situation when he was still young -- having decided to accept his situation because it was better than being bitter. But he knows what people will see when they find out, so he’d gone to great lengths to hide it. Because he doesn’t need pity, he’s happy as he is.

While he’s thinking of how to ease everyone’s tension, he’s completely unprepared for the arms that wrap around his neck. Cracking his eyes open, he realizes these arms are quite small, that the person hugging him is quite small.

“Will you come back for family dinner every year?” Hana’s question is muffled in his neck, but the words have his heart stuttering because he really hadn’t been expecting this. Glancing quickly at Y/n, he finds that the pity he’d been preparing for isn’t there. She looks completely heartbroken, her eyes shining with unshed tears, but more than anything she looks mad.

She blinks it away when they make eye contact, and she nods while reaching for his hand. He’s not sure what she’s nodding at, and he gets the feeling she doesn’t know either, but he takes it as her understanding. Understanding that he doesn’t want to talk about it further, understanding what he’d meant in the forest that day about being happy alone.

Just past Y/n, Yoongi’s standing from his spot on the floor with a groan and a crack of his spine. He moves for Hana, who’s still clinging to Hoseok’s neck.

“Of course he’ll be back, Monkey. He’s not goin’ anywhere.” It’s said so simply, without any particular feeling to guide it, but Hoseok’s so immensely grateful for Min Yoongi in that moment. Not only because he hadn’t changed at all in the way he’d looked at Hoseok -- his eyes are still even and calm, if not laced with slightest bit of emotion when their gazes lock -- but because Hoseok had just received clear and direct approval from the one person in Y/n’s life that he’d been most nervous about.

It’s one thing to be nervous about family or the entirety of her friend group -- those things are normal. Min Yoongi is not normal, not to Y/n. He’s the only person that knows Y/n better than she knows herself, and Hoseok hadn’t even realized just how terrified he’d been that Yoongi wouldn’t accept him suddenly appearing in Y/n’s life the way he had. But he sees now, while Yoongi is slowly peeling Hana off of him and carrying her to the staircase, claiming that it’s ‘way past her bedtime’, that Yoongi’s just let him in. The girl waves goodnight to the rest of the group, almost immediately sleepy now that Yoongi's carrying her to bed.

When Hoseok looks to Y/n, eyes wide with surprise, he sees that she’s noticed Yoongi's behavior, too. Because she’s got her eyes closed, but she’s smiling fondly, like the telltale signs of Yoongi’s respect have finally revealed themselves, decidedly giving Hoseok his stamp of approval.

He’s so busy reveling in the fact that he’d just gotten all the reactions to his life story that he’d been expecting the least that he barely feels Y/n’s mom set a hand on his shoulder when she stands. He looks up now, taking in her kind eyes, and he thinks she’s going to say something sentimental, but--

“I like you a whole lot more than I liked Jungkook.” Hoseok’s jaw drops, and Y/n’s scoffing loudly beside him.

“Mom!” The woman smiles, leaving the two them there on the couch while she grabs the plates of pie, mumbling something about ‘needing to pack Noodle Arms a plate to go’ before heading into the kitchen. Hoseok can do nothing but laugh when he looks to Y/n, who’s still completely scandalized by her mom’s comment.

“I can’t tell if I should feel highly approved of, or just regularly approved of since Jungkook is apparently low on the Family Opinions list.” Y/n nudges him with her elbow playfully, and they sit there quietly together on the couch for a moment. He finds himself reaching out to brush his fingers across her knee insecurely.

“You know, you don’t have to feel bad for me. I really am okay -- I said it before, but I just… I’ve been okay not having anyone. It never really haunted me or hurt me or anything I’m sure you’d expect an abandoned child to feel. I just… took the bad with the good and decided to focus on the happy moments of my childhood because, believe it or not, I had a lot of them. It’s just easier to remember my parents as they were before, so that’s what I do.” Y/n nods slowly when he’s done, feeling a lot of things but wondering if maybe it’s not her place to say it. He sees it anyway, because he sees everything.

“You’re angry. That they left me.” Y/n glances at him quickly, wondering if he’s upset at all -- this is such a delicate subject, and she doesn’t know if she’s allowed to feel this mad for him. But he’s smiling, like he can tell she’d been trying to hide it and he’s finding her incredibly endearing for it. She purses her lips and nods shyly, confirming his suspicions.

“That they left you… yes. But I’m angry that they kept your sister from you.” It’d been obvious in the way Hoseok had talked about his parents that he’d become purposely detached from them, that he’d accepted the situation and doesn’t feel any certain way about them. But the name -- ‘Hoseokie’ -- it had set him on edge in a way she’d never seen in this carefree, sunny boy before. His sister’s a sore spot, probably the one thing that hurts most. His smile tells her everything she needs to know, because she’s never once seen him smile bitterly. And yet there it is, forcing his dimples to make an appearance in a way that isn’t as heartwarming as it usually is.

“The last time I saw her, she was Hana’s age… she probably looks so different now.” If a person could physically deflate into nothingness, Y/n would have successfully done it. Hoseok can’t help but snicker, the image of Y/n almost melting into the couch too endearing.

“I -- I can’t even imagine… not knowing what Hana will look like in a few years.” It breaks her heart all over again, the way Hoseok nods, because he knows exactly what that feels like. But he refuses to dwell on it, clapping his hands down on his knees decisively and shaking Y/n from her stupor with the noise.

“Spend New Year’s Eve with me!” Y/n’s brain stalls, trying to process what he’d just said. He waits patiently, smiling while she switches mental gears and catches up to him.

“Huh? I mean -- sure? Yes? But, huh?” He laughs under his breath, finding her confusion almost obnoxiously cute.

“I’ve never had anyone to spend it with. Now that I do… I really want to spend it with you.” Y/n swallows hard, wondering where these butterflies in her stomach are coming from -- maybe it’s the way he’s watching her, eyes curious as he waits for her reaction. She only nods, suddenly very shy under his gaze.

“I’d love to, Hoseok…” He warms at how low her voice is, and now he’s the one feeling shy, pressing his palms into his thighs and staring down at his lap. They’re quiet for a moment, the soft crackling from the fireplace filling the silence, until--

“Oh, just kiss already!” They both turn quickly toward the voice, finding Yoongi standing at the bottom of the staircase, a look of disgust filling his face. He shakes his head when they gape at him, going so far as to wave his hand quickly, his palm passing through the air with intent. “Look, I even helped.” He’s looking at the space above their heads, and when she and Hoseok follow his eyes, they find a piece of mistletoe growing from the ceiling, hanging down between them.

Y/n groans in annoyance while Hoseok sits there, blushing brightly at Yoongi’s forwardness. As if to make things worse for him, Y/n’s mom enters the room again then, noticing the mistletoe right away as she’s handing the comically large stack of to-go containers over to Yoongi.

“Oh, cute! Did they kiss?” She looks at Yoongi when she asks, and he shakes his head in disappointment -- Hoseok gets the feeling they’re enjoying pretending he and Y/n aren’t right here when they start snickering in unison.

“Well, I gotta go--” Yoongi stops to glare at Y/n when she looks at him knowingly, eyebrows raised. Hoseok wonders if maybe this is about the messages she’d seen on the Slytherin’s phone earlier. “-- but I’ll catch you guys later. Happy Christmas, nerds!” With that he’s heading for the entryway, and Hoseok can hear him bickering with Y/n’s mom all the way to the door.

“Yes, I brought my coat--”

“You don’t have a hat! I’m sure they make hats for big-headed people, too--”

“That is so offensive on so many levels--”

“I’ll just have to make you one myself--”

“Mom! Stop working so hard, I promise I’ll go buy a damn hat!”

“Don’t you take that tone with me, Big-Head!”

--

“I got us takeout!” It’s the first thing she says when Hoseok opens the door to his apartment, emphasized by the large bag she’s shaking in his face with enthusiasm. He pokes his head around it, smiling brightly at her.

“I also got us takeout!” Lowering her bag in surprise, she follows Hoseok into the small studio when he beckons her in, slipping her shoes off at the door as she looks to the kitchenette, where an equally large bag of food sits. She only looks to Hoseok, dumbfounded, and she finds he’s giving her the same look.

“How are we gonna eat all this--”

“No idea.” Y/n snorts when he looks between their two bags, face deadpan as he reaches for hers and sets it on the table beside his. He looks at them for a moment longer, finally speaking.

“Did we get takeout from the same place?” Y/n hangs her head with a groan when she realizes the bags look exactly the same. When she looks up again, he’s heading for the cabinets to get plates, his shoulders shaking with laughter. It’s infectious, and soon she’s shaking her head, turning to look around the apartment while she laughs openly. Her breath is cut short almost immediately when she looks at the living area.

“Holy plants.” Hoseok glances over to where she’s looking, a nervous laugh leaving him.

“Too much?” To put it simply, they’re everywhere. Floor plants, hanging plants, windowsill plants -- everywhere. There’s even a massive plant overtaking the table next to his bed in the corner, not an inch of space for him to put anything else. She feels like she just walked into a jungle.

“Your air must be really clean…” Hoseok laughs loudly, not having expected that to be her one assessment of his plant collection.

“You’re lucky I haven’t covered the couch in plants, too -- where are we gonna sit to watch TV?” As if the universe has decided to test him at this very moment in time for absolutely no reason other than to make him suffer, the apartment goes dark with the booming sound of the entire room powering down.

Hoseok barely manages to hold in his groan when he hears Y/n turn in his direction in the dark.

“I wasn’t watching anything good on TV these days, anyway.”

--

“Come on, come on -- where are they--”

“Hoseok, it’s fine--”

“I swear I had candles--”

“Hoseok--”

“Aha!” He pokes his head up from where he’s crouched by the closet, holding a stack of small candles triumphantly. Y/n’s sitting at the dining table, having cast lumos long ago and unpacked their copious amounts of food with nothing but the light of her wand. She’s smiling at him fondly now as he shows her the candles.

“Are you feeling better now?” Hoseok lowers his candles, sending her a sheepish smile as he rises to his feet and moves to join her at the table. He’d immediately started apologizing to her when the power had gone out, thrown into a panicked rush to fix things as he flitted around his apartment. She’d tried to reassure him that everything was okay, but he’d still felt really bad for messing up their night.

“I’m sorry, Y/n… I told my parents that I’m still in school until the spring, but I don’t think they heard that part when they said they were gonna stop helping me pay for stuff after graduation… I’ve been applying for jobs all year, but they just don’t really start accepting people until they see our NEWT results and transcripts and stuff, so--”

“Hobi.” He stops at the nickname, realizing when she levels him with a hard stare that he’s devolving into anxious rambling again. She reaches across the table, taking his hands in hers.

“Stop apologizing, Hobi. This isn’t your fault, and you haven’t ruined anything. I promise.” He’s slow to nod, but eventually he accepts her words, seeing how insistent she is.

“I do have one question, though.” He blinks, humming curiously when she continues and wondering what she’s going to say. “Do you… have spare blankets? Because it’s going to get very cold in here very fast.”

--

“I don’t think I want to eat anything ever again.”

“Mmm… Mmmm…”

“So you agree.”

“Mhm… Mmm…” Hoseok throws his head back against the couch, completely unable to form words after the meal they’d just had. Y/n snorts, nodding as she gets used to his various sounds of exhaustion.

“Me too, Hobi.” They sit there quietly for only a moment before Hoseok is lifting his head, urgent. Y/n looks at him, wondering what’s happening in his head when he turns to her, face deadpan yet again.

“I bought us ice cream on my way home with the food.” Immediately, she’s groaning, and he joins her in flopping around on his couch dramatically. Y/n takes a moment through her food-induced haze to appreciate their little setup.

The candles are set strategically on his coffee table and counters, clear of any plants because the last thing they need tonight is a fire. She’d been right in assuming it’d get cold, and they’d eventually stopped trying to manage with small blankets, dragging his comforter right off the bed and curling up together beneath it as they ate dinner. She can’t even recall what they’d talked about, the entire thing a confused fog from the food.

She knows they’d been giddy the whole time, on a weird high from the collection of ridiculous things that had happened in the first five minutes of her being here. That, along with the sheer amount of food and the wine Hoseok had pulled out for them, ended up creating nonstop laughter over the smallest things. She’s comfortable here, never having experienced a bubble of quiet happiness like this. She feels no pressure and she’s worried about nothing -- everything had fallen away when she’d walked in the door, the rest of the world blocked out from this safe space, here with Hoseok in his apartment.

“Oh! It’s almost midnight!” Hoseok’s squinting at his phone in the dark before showing her the screen -- 11:55pm. She glances at her own phone, sitting peacefully on the table in front of them, and she hates that the only thing she can think of is Jungkook. She’s scared that this period of silence between them will have done nothing, that as soon as the new year starts, he’s going to be back to badgering her constantly. She just wants everything to return to normal, and she’s scared that she only has five minutes left before that dream falls apart.

“Hey… Where’d you go just now?” Blinking, she sees that Hoseok’s peering at her, brow furrowed in concern. His phone toggles when he moves closer to her, a small pout set in his features, and the screen lights up again. 11:57pm. She hates that, after such a good night, it had taken only this to have them both frowning. She hates it.

“I just… I really just want all of this to be normal again. I want Jungkook to be normal again. I want the new year to be something good again, and I’m terrified it won’t be. I just want to forget everything bad from this year and start fresh.” She rolls her eyes at herself, hating that she’s ranting to Hoseok about her love life again, when they’d just wanted to have a nice New Year’s Eve together. But his mind is elsewhere, a thought crossing his mind suddenly. He checks his phone again. 11:59pm.

“Maybe I can help with that?” Y/n looks to him when he says it, confused.

“What do you mean?” He blinks, trying to decide if he’s really going to do this. The nervous feeling building in his stomach is somehow telling him this is a bad and good idea. He turns to her quickly.

“With that fresh start… forgetting the bad from this year… Maybe I can help…?” Y/n’s not sure what he means, but she doesn’t see why she would say no. Hoseok’s never done anything but help, even when he doesn’t realize it. If anyone’s going to help her forget, it’s him.

So she nods, waiting for him to explain. And then she’s gasping, because he’s leaning in, and she can see even in the dim lighting that he’s looking at her lips -- that he’s going to kiss her.

He pauses for a second to give her time to push him away. When she doesn’t, he’s glancing up and finding that she’s looking at him nervously, her gaze flicking back and forth between his eyes and his mouth. With a small inhale, he lets his eyes drift shut, closing the gap between them carefully.

Y/n’s not even sure she’s kissing him back -- she’s too focused on the feeling of his lips on her, how gentle he’s being as he applies just the slightest pressure to her mouth with his own. But she must be kissing him back, because he’s responding to something, his lips pressing harder when he feels her reciprocating.

It’s only one kiss, one that he pulls back from slowly after a moment, their breaths mingling warmly in the small space he’s created. Neither of them makes a move, eyes hooded and noses brushing in his dark apartment as they try to make sense of this haze long enough to figure out if this has really just happened. If Hoseok’s really just kissed her on New Year’s Eve.

And then her phone is lighting up on the table, celebratory texts from her friends pouring in, and they turn at the same time to glance at the screen. 12:00am.

Hoseok turns back to her then, eyes searching hers for something -- he’s not really sure what it is, but when a shy smile starts to dance at the edges of her lips, he knows he’s found it.

“Happy New Year, Y/n.”

[r0zyp0zy0zy]

✿M.I- Restrained in the Hospital✶★

Make a request!

Master list

Warnings: hand job, exhibitionism?

Words: 1344

Pairing: Midoriya Izuku x FEM!reader

Summary: Izuku’s arms are broken, again, so you jerk him off for him <3

===NSFW/ SUGGESTIVE UNDER THE CUT===

This was bad. No, Izuku wasn't thinking about his limp and broken arms, each wound snugly in a white cast; he was thinking about the raging hard-on he had, unable to do anything to relive the tent under the thin hospital blanket that covered him. And sure, he was pretty embarrassed when the staff had to help him go to the bathroom and an inconvenient boner would pop up, but he was even more embarrassed when he knew AllMight was dropping by soon.

Izuku struggled in the sheets, trying to at least make the bulge look like a crease in the fabric. He desperately thought of boring things that would get him out of this mess. Math homework. All that cleaning with Kacchan. Math homework. Tutoring. Being tutored by you. Uh oh. He just made it worse. Of course his monkey brain would think of you. He remembered one time when you were helping him study, and you really were, up until Izuku couldn't help his stupid hormone crazed body and—

"Hey, Izu-Chan~!" You sauntered your way into his hospital room, bag slung over your shoulder. "Sorry for not telling you I would pop by; you can't really reach your phone... so.."

You analyzed his face as you went to sit down in the chair beside his bed, noting the hot red streaks that adorned his cheeks. His smile was bright as always, but it had a tinge of anxiety in it. No... embarrassment? It was difficult to tell.

"H-how are things?" Izuku asked stiffly, eyes trying to avoid looking at you.

"Same old," you sighed, taking out some chapstick and applying it thickly to your lips, "damm, this weather is making my lips dry."

"Y-yah," Izuku agreed, attempting to make it look like he was watching the birds outside.

You tried to guess what was up with him. Top secret information he was holding? Maybe... but the conveniently placed wrinkle in the fabric of his blanket said otherwise.

"So," you popped your lips together, "how do you keep yourself occupied when you can't use your hands and arms?"

"Uh mostly music, and making brain notes of things I should work on," Izuku attempted to shrug, "but mostly just sleeping, or daydreaming..."

"... about what?" You pressed, trying to sound nonchalant, grazing a finger on a slightly dusted side table.

"Uhm, well... mostly about becoming a h-hero, a-and, well... uh.." Izuku struggled. "And thinking about hanging out with you..."

"Just hanging out?" You teased, scooching your chair a little closer and leaning your head on his hospital bed railing.

"Uhm, y'see, well- I, um," Izuku stuttered. He was so cute trying to come up with a convincing lie. You couldn't help but smile at his awkwardness.

"C'mon, spit it out," you giggle, teasing a hand down to draw circles on his thigh, deathly close to the 'wrinkle' in the fabric.

"... and about having sex with you," he murmured so quietly that you barely heard him. Ah, there it was. The shameful confession. You weren't going to tease him, (that much, anyway), so you just inched your hand closer to where you assumed his dick was.

"W-what are you doing!?" Izuku exclaimed nervously, his mouth forming a wiggly line to keep from yelling even more.

"You're horny right now, Izu," you batted your eyelashes up at him, slowly moving your hand under the covers, "and I'm gonna help you get off. Right here, right now."

"R-really?" He said, awestruck, "I-I mean, no! We'll get caught!"

You rolled your eyes, "the worst they can do is send me out of the building. It's not like they're gonna throw you out of the hospital."

Deku was deep in thought, mumbling the pros and cons of the situation, ".. well she's got a point... hm but— allmight will be here soon... can't have that.... but on the other hand—."

"Izu, baby," you shook him out of his daze, "calm down, ok? If you really don't want me to I don't have to—."

"—no, wait! I really want you to, it's just- I'll be so embarrassed if AllMight comes early and h-he sees what we're doing..." he stuttered, trying to wave his arms about.

"Careful, baby, don't hurt yourself," you stood up, holding his casts still and trailing your hands down to Izuku's chest.

He was frozen to the spot when your hands didn't stop, and continued down to just above where his dick was. His eyes were as wide as disks, and he couldn't peel them off of you when you folded back the pristine white comforter. You could hear his heart monitor speed up a little, and bit your lip. Shit. You had forgotten about that. You decided to ignore it, and continued to pull up his hospital gown to his chest.

"F-fuck," Izuku whimpered once his hard-on was free. "Haven't touched m- myself in s-so long."

"'So long' being like three days," you hummed, wrapping your fingers casually around Izuku's red cock. He whined under your touch, the heart monitor getting quicker. "Hm, better relax a bit, don't want a nurse coming here to check your heart."

"O-oh..." he scrunched up his face and took a few deep breaths.

You knew that his heartbeat quickening was inevitable, so you just hoped the nurse that checked up on Deku would only peak in and immediately leave. You got into a steady rhythm; spreading his pre-cum over the head, and firmly pumping his length. Izuku's eyes were glazed over, not able to peel off of your movements.

Izuku was struggling to contain himself, flexing his legs and biting his lip. He always came pretty fast whenever you were touching him like this, your teasing doe eyes looking up at him. So now that he hadn't given his dick some proper attention for the past three days, he was extra sensitive.

"Y-y/n, please," Izuku huffed out a breath. "Get t-tissues or something r-ready— I'm so close."

"We won't need tissues, baby," you smirked, lowering your mouth to his cock, flattening your tongue against the underside of his glans.

The way Izuku's eyes nearly popped out of his skull made you want to just get on the bed and fuck him. His face was beet red, and you guessed that his blush trailed down his chest as well. His sweet, lewd, moans filled the room as you innocently looked up at him.

"Soon— gonna cum soon," Izuku whimpered, his eyes half lidded. He refused to look away from your enticing mouth, and he didn't want to waste his time with blinking.

"Go on and cum for me, Izu," you pleaded, your tongue lapping at the underside of his glans.

Deku's eyes practically rolled into the back of his head, and he heaved a silent wail as he came into your mouth. Tears formed at the corner of his eyes, and he glanced down at you. Izuku could've sworn that he almost came again just from looking at you as you made a show of swallowing his cum.

"Ah~" Izuku squirmed when you rubbed at the head of his sensitive cock, unable to get away. "Th-the heart monitor, y-y/n-chan."

You glanced at the machine, and then at the door. You smirked when you saw a nurse's blonde hair whip past the door to his room, swiftly ignoring the two of you.

"What about it, Izu~?" You teased, licking off the remainder of his cum.

Deku's whole body shivered once you gave him a last departing kiss, and you tucked him back into place. His face was glowing pink, but he looked a lot more relaxed than he was before. He let you lean down to kiss his lips, wishing his arms weren't broken so he could touch you.

"MIDORIYA, MY BOY," AllMight announced, stepping into the room. He was in his hero costume, as usual, and gave you a bright smile, "oh, hello to you too, young y/n."

"Hi," you waved politely, grabbing your bag. "I'll leave you two to chat."

"O-ok," Izuku whispered, his face flushing deeper. "See ya."