#I know this is probably a sentiment shared here before

[thewertsearch]

Ask Comp 9/1

Anonymous asked: has sally been introduced to cursed tavros yet?

[ cursed tavros jumpscare :D ]

Cursed indeed - but mind you, I don't think I could do much better. My handcraft skills are nonexistent!

Anonymous asked: ol tavvy is down with the clown ;o) Anonymous asked: Please, if you will, imagine if when Vriska kissed Tavros, he told her that he was already dating Gamzee.

Heh. I really do think Gamzee x Tavros could have worked out, at least until Gamzee lost his shit. Hell, even if Gamzee did lose his shit, he'd probably still be less of a threat to Tavros than Vriska was.

Anonymous asked: Did you notice Gamzee referenced Earth in his rap? ("6 trillion hemos all up on one rock bleeding as equals") How do you think he learned about it? Some weird pre-game precognition or just his stoned mind being accidentally right?

This isn't necessarily a reference to Earth - but it wouldn't surprise me if it was, because Gamzee's cult seems fully aware of the existence of Earth.

The 'paradise planet' referenced in Gamzee's intro is stated to not exist yet, which is exactly how the narration refereed to Earth in Hivebent's intro. I believe that the 'rowdy minstrels' he's talking about are literally ICP, although he clearly isn't aware of that fact.

@wizardlyghost asked:

A sentiment shared by Eggman, every Space Player, and the villain of Muppets Most Wanted.

Anonymous asked: Now that you've passed where fedorafreak's gray, serviceable hand-held computing device's battery has died, you might appreciate the following short piece of fan art: www tumblr com/vastderp-placeholder/7741061457/savior-of-the-texting-world-rise-up

The fucking implication that the phone is the Player in this scenario is obliterating me.

Also, its God Tier form has wings. Was it a troll all along, or are wings a symbol of divine apotheosis in phone culture, too?

@clueless-rarito asked: Heeey paranatural reference! Hell yeah!

Is anyone else totally stoked to see Eightfold again? I know I am!

Anonymous asked: bilious sick 😭

English's trick made our Bilious sick. :(

Anonymous asked: One of, if not my absolute favorite, quotes/moments in Homestuck is Karkat’s speech to Jade about his failed frog breeding here. Just such a wonderfully tragic moment that stuck with me since the first time I read it.

In a comic chock-full of great lines, that last one might just be the best so far. This was one of the last scenes before Act 5's true finale, and it was an excellent pick.

@drakethedeep asked: One theory I've heard about the Denizen's Choice that tend to headcanon, Is that the choice is to be happy/free or to matter. That much as how God-tiers only grants survival by never having an impact, the denizens have thier playes coose between seeking their happiness and survival, or to struggle to achieve things that while objevtivly monumental, might not be worth the sacrifices needed to achieve it. I like this theory because of how it themes to fit the themes of Sburb.

I really like the space you're playing in, but I'm not so sure if all the Choices we've seen would necessarily fit this interpretation. After all, Davesprite implicitly chose the 'survival' option when he first met Hephaestus, and he's not exactly a happy camper. He didn't end up particularly free, either, since he was almost immediately bound to a Sprite, and later to the Battlefield.

I guess you could say he 'mattered', because he is he reason the Alpha Timeline exists the way it does - but, technically, everyone's actions contribute to the Alpha Timeline being the way it is. I definitely think there's something to this theory.

Anonymous asked: Without the Door to actually enter the universe, all you've done is make a really big frog.

I guess, when you think about it, there's not really anything they can do with their universe without that door. I suppose they could just fly towards their frog and hope for the best, but somehow, I don't think that'll achieve much.

@morganwick asked: Of course, even though he wasn't fooled by Gamzee using Terezi's "voice", Karkat still showed up on the roof anyway. Perhaps he decided he couldn't take the risk that Terezi was actually there and Gamzee might catch her unawares.

Gamzee's been having a lot of fun 'impersonating' Terezi lately. Just like before, I don't think he ever intended to fool Karkat with his transparent ruse - he just wanted to unsettle the guy. It worked.

@morganwick asked: If Typheus is the mailman, does that make him PM's favorite Denizen?

Maybe it makes him the head of her mail service!

We never saw any other mail Carapacians, and I kind of love the idea that they were operating out of a Denizen's Palace the whole time.

@bladekindeyewear asked: You said: "Mind you, I don��t know if it’s necessarily always a good or heroic thing to allow a Sburb Player full agency over their actions, nor is it necessarily a bad thing to restrict them, in certain cases." Oh I'm completely with you there. In fact, you might DEFINE Heroism as denying agency to those who would do ill, in part. This would make both "Heroic" and "Just" deaths result from trying to stamp your own intentions upon reality, halted by others. Neutrality would be ineffectual.

That's certainly part of heroism - but to me, it's not even close to all of it. A firefighter, for example, is heroic in ways which don't involve another person, as their only real 'opponent' is nature itself.

I personally define heroism as the will to do good, in situations where doing good requires bravery. 'Good', of course, is a fairly slippery concept, though, so that definition is just as ambiguous as any other.

Anonymous asked: Doctor Who anon here. Doctor Who has no canon for purely practical reasons. It's so massive - there's the show, but there's also the Big Finish audio dramas, the DW magazine comics, the Radio Times comics, the IDW comics, the Titan comics, the Virgin novels and short stories, the BBC novels and short stories. And no one owns all of it. The BBC don't even own the daleks or K9. And each piece of media will freely contradict others. No one has the right to decide what's canon, so they just don't. It's also because the people running Doctor Who the show have a deep respect for the extended media. In the 90s, it was the non-BBC licensed, fan-led projects which kept DW alive. Russell T. Davies, first showrunner of the modern era, wrote Virgin novels, so did Mark Gatiss. Nick Briggs, modern voice of the daleks, is the head of Big Finish. So they didn't want to decanonise that stuff, but they also don't want to be beholden to it when writing their own stories. So the fanbase tends to operate on tiers of canon. Basically something can be assumed to still be part of the show's continiuity until the show contradicts it. Big Finish would generally be considered the next highest "tier" of canon. The Doctor Who magazine comics probably wouldn't contradict the show, but the show could contradict them any time. The old books and comics are dubious. But that's all just fan categorisation. Officially, nothing has been deemed canon or not. In fact, rather amusingly, the only thing that has been explicitly deemed "canon" by the BBC is the Doctor Who: Battles in Time card game. That's officially canon. Nothing else. Not even the show.

I think I've heard of 'canon tiers' before, in the context of the Star Wars fandom. I think it's a good way to delineate how 'true' a given event is considered to be, especially in a large, complex shared universe - but at the same time, being consciously aware of these tiers might hurt your investment a little.

You'll never be able to escape the fact that your favourite stories or characters are effectively fanfiction, at least from the perspective of higher tiers. They have no influence whatsoever over the more ''real'' part of the story, unless they're promoted its tier some day.

I do like the idea that all the other Doctor Who stories are fanfiction of the card game, though. That's definitely going to be my canon, from now on.

@morganwick asked: Well, back in Act 4 you said that John and Dave would make S-Tier if and when "John [threw] aside his passivity to do something heroic, and…Dave [would] finally drop that poker face and do something sincere", which is why I pegged the suicide mission conversation as when Dave might make the jump.

I think, on reflection, it's almost always a heartwarming event that catapults a character into S-Tier.

In my opinion, that's one of the most impressive feelings that a work of fiction can inspire in you, mostly because it's really hard to get you invested enough for it to hit properly. Homestuck's pulled it off an extremely impressive number of times already, and we're only halfway finished!

Anonymous asked: It is so fucking awesome to see a new reader in the year of our lord 2024 2025 who's actually like. Engaging with the themes of the story. Lotta people just see it for the memes or the "totally random" plot but some of the shit you're reading into what's happening is like. Eerily similar to actual Hussie commentary. Gold star for reading comprehension, you do not piss on the poor Anonymous asked: Your homestuck liveblogs are lovely and insightful and make me remember a lot of details of the comic that have been lost to time. You will comment on something and I'll go "oh huh homestuck was better than I remember it being." Thank you <3 @honestlyvan asked: Truly your liveblog is the best kind of re-experiencing the experience. I'm surprised at how much your thoughts and reads parallel mine, it's kind of fun to see someone else's deductions go along the same routes. I can't wait for you to get to the Truly Horseshit portions of the plot (and I say this lovingly, I think you're in a great position to give us a real raw read on them without having to deal with the various Mega and Gigapauses) Also -- you keep pointing out a shitton of foreshadowing I didn't catch until my second readthrough. I can't wait for you to get to the bits where it applies and be like "son of a bitch", I think where I'm in the reading of your backlog and where you're in the reading of the comic you've passed at least one of those bits already :D @worldweary-walker asked: The liveblog is so cool. It's a lot of fun seeing you put things together, and the posts where you come up with three completely right conclusions and two wrong ones always amaze me. Impressive work!

Thank you so much! I know I say this a lot, but a lot of these sentiments are exactly why I like reading liveblogs myself. I'm just really glad I can do that for others.

I can totally understand why someone would just read Homestuck for the memes. I wouldn't have been nearly as analytical if I'd read it as a schoolgirl, and a lot of the 2010s fandom were even younger than that!

@divineerdrick asked: Now we have multiple explanations for what is wrong with the kid's session. Vriska has made herself responsible for Jack's rise to power, Karkat believes he gave Bilious Slick cancer, and Gamzee created the harlequin doll that would torment John and prompt Jack's rage-fueled act of rebellion. You've already suspected that Doc Scratch probably has multiple plans in play at once, and we can see that here. It seems he insured, through multiple causes, the kid's universe has always been doomed. Gamzee, as usual, seems to be the wild card. But he's acting out during a crisis of faith, a faith tied to Alternia's twisted social structure, which Scratch seems to have had a hand in. So despite how random Gamzee's actions appear to be, it's possible Scratch managed to seed even this seemingly unpredictable action.

I think Scratch probably did 90% of the work in making Gamzee go ballistic, from multiple directions at once. Looking back, it's shocking just how much of the comic was Scratch's doing.

'Caused' is a loaded phrase in Paradox Space, but what's happening is definitely what he planned.

Anonymous asked: It kind of seems like Rage as an aspect is evil, no? Do you think an aspect can carry an inherent moral weight? If not, what are the neutral meanings of aspects that seem to, and if so, how do you feel about it?

Personally, I doubt that any of the Aspects have a moral alignment - not even the scary-sounding ones. After all, you can Rage against tyranny, or bring Doom to a corrupt institution. Yeah, Gamzee is using Rage for evil, but his perception-shielding could just as easily be used to hide an innocent bystander from an aggressive Underling.

I think that more or less any ability can be used for both good or evil. The only real exception would be a power that's deliberately designed to be irreparably, comically evil. 'The ability to torture everyone for all eternity' would be one of those powers, but Homestuck's Aspect abilities would not.

@worldweary-walker asked: have you read Kill Six Billion Demons?

I have not! It's on my long and constantly growing list, which means I'll get to it between now and, uh, 2096.

Anonymous asked: re: the ancestors' story. WHAT IF WE ALL JUST CRIED like. the sheer transition from inane antics to the. that @corporalotherbear asked: There's a very popular fanmade version of the sufferer's final sermon and following vast expletive, voiced by a man that would go on to be the english voice actor of Izuku Midoriya. I can't add links to asks but if it's spoiler-friendly then your vetter can probably send you "The sufferer's last sermon"

Oh, I kind of love this interpretation. It really sells just how unwinnable the Sufferer's rebellion truly was.

@wolygan asked: I forgot how she is so happy when she is running away. This Girl is still able to believe that good is coming. Except Lord English won't let that happen, no matter what. @wickedsick asked:

That was possibly the fastest you have ever been proven wrong about something

That poor girl. She suffered just as much as the Signless did, but she'll only be known to Alternia as a monster - and unlike Troll Jesus, no one will ever mourn the Handmaid.

Anonymous asked: the sufferer cult is definitely independent of the juggalos! the use of the word sectarian to describe the war waged against the signless's beliefs is not a coincidence, imo. (we also see that highblood is most often used to specifically describe purplebloods). they're just two different religious organizations. given that the grand highblood was a juggalo man/subjuggulator and occupied significant power it seems to suggest that clown religion was a Big Thing among the purplebloods, which would not truck with the signless' cult being so small and secretive. there's one theory that part of the reason the neophyte was sent on mindfang's case was bc the GHB (given that mindfang mentions the neophyte was sent by subjuggulators specifically) knew she was a secret sufferite and wanted to get rid of her. mindfang does talk about how it seemed like they were giving up on her case entirely by sending just one neophyte (granted this is partially bc she underestimated her). it would track that while they definitely wanted to get rid of mindfang, they also were fine with the neophyte dying. this also follows with the fact that after mindfang gets out of that trial, she manages to persist without being caught right up until her death at the hands of the summoner. were they happy that the neophyte got killed, enough to stop putting much effort into mindfang's capture?

I think the Highbloods probably did set Redglare up. I speculated that it was possible when we first heard about her death, and that was before we knew she was a Signless cultist.

Also: lmao, do you remember when Hussie told us that the Juggalo Cult was 'obscure'? That's starting to feel like something that was quietly retconned offscreen.

@clueless-rarito asked: In case you like to know, "Dolorosa" is meant to evoke the spanish word "Doloroso" meaning painful but changing the O for an A turn it feminine.

Dolorosa; in other words, the woman in pain.

Fucking hell, she deserved so much better. It's amazing how much bleaker the Ancestors' lives were, compared to their descendants. Modern Alternia is bad enough as it is!

@lon-kasi asked: Fanwork recommendation: The same guy who did the EoA5 reanimation just did Intermission 2 as well. Like, less than six hours before I sent this ask. It's incredible.

Yessss! These are amazing.

My favorite parts are all the extra touches that weren't in the original animation, such as Rose beginning to realizing how badly she was tricked - or Jade, unused to her own powers, almost knocking John on his ass while she teleports him.

Anonymous asked: Now that you've seen what a Reckoning on Skaia looks like, you can see why Karkat was rushing Kanaya to get their frog done. Despite jumping the gun, skipping the lore elements and just killing their way to the end, the troll kids never had enough time. Especially since, now that I'm thinking about it, if it wasn't the Reckoning then it probably would have been Jack as the "time's up, now turn in your work" event. @marinerofthestars asked: With the revelation that Alternia was built to and ended up speedrunning an Sgrub/Sburb session to catastrophic effect (great job reading this far, btw), how long would you expect a “standard” session to take?

We've got two different asks here - one saying that normal sessions are meant to be shorter than Hivebent's, and the other saying they're meant to be longer.

I honestly don't know which I believe. It feels unrealistic for a Sburb session to take months, but Scratch really did seem to be saying that the trolls were extremely effective Players, implying most sessions take longer to beat. Maybe the reboot session will clue us in a little?

Anonymous asked: “How do you expect to out run me, When I Am Already Here.” Is such a hard line, and it’s completely missable in the alt text for the site banner. I know a lot of people missed it when these panels dropped. I remember HS being considered super unique because of how much the comic messes with formatting things like that.

I was super close to missing some of that scene, even though I'd already been warned about the alt text. There was just so much going on at the time, I almost didn't think to look at the banners.

@royalvorpal asked: "I thought words would be exchanged" How do you expect them to talk when they are in person?

pffffffffffffffffffft

Alright, that one fucking got me.

@bladekindeyewear asked: "But no, apparently not, because it took Karkat zero words and sixty seconds to completely shut Gamzee down. Now, don’t get me wrong, that’s incredibly impressive - but what did he actually do?" If you look back IN RETROSPECT at some of what Gamzee has been telling Karkat, it almost looks like pale flirting, like he was actually WANTING him to do this behind his threats. p3361: "FTC: i wonder if you can all be at with me in time and make me get my reconsider on?" Anonymous asked: You may not like it, but this is what peak moirallegience looks like.

Yeah, this really does make that exchange read as a little flirtatious.

Still, is this really how a moirallegiance is meant to work? Are moirails really expected to risk their lives to halt their prospective partner's rampage? This is starting to sound more dangerous than a kismesissitude!

@bladekindeyewear asked: I'm not sure how well it applies to the revised Homestuck website and it's probably impossible in the collection, but you could view any past/future page in any CSS format the site gave you with a keyword, like the black-on-green Doc Scratch format. So when Andrew did the "SNOP" to SBAHJ-mode, he was intentionally giving us a tool to view the ENTIRE SITE in SBAHJ mode.

There's a 'theme override' button, but I need to finish Homestuck to unlock it. I guess the comic's theme will change in more spoilery ways, later on.

Anonymous asked: Dolorosa/Mindfang is the true kicker of the “vriska keeps ending up in mirror relationships to her ancestor” belief, bc its the one where there is NO way vriska could know that shes in a mirror relationship. Eridan- orphaner dualscar and mindfangs romance was in the journal. Tavros- she knew about the summoner. But while there are hints to the dolorosas identity- sharp teeth, lower blood color, and a very vague if you stretch it hint about horn shape- no way vriska could have put those pieces together!!!

Man, it's still so fucked up that the Dolorosa went out like that. I still think it's at least remotely possible that she revived as a vampire, but I'm not gonna kid myself - her story is over. We're not gonna see her.

Anonymous asked: You've mentioned "ratfic" and something called "the Methods" before, is that something you've read?

If I could write an essay about Steven Moffat, I could write an entire thesis about Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality - but it'd be radioactively critical, and it feels mean-spirited to just post a rant about something unprompted.

If people want my thoughts in detail, I might stick them on the sideblog later - but for now, I'll just tell you that if it wasn't for that fic, XAE A-12 Musk would never have been born. Not a joke.

Anonymous asked: i love the complete about face on gamzee lol. "clearly the fact that he's gone nuts is something wrong with the timeline" gamzee is revealed to be responsible for lil cal "actually fuck this guy"

If we do ever recover the original Gamzee, it's going to really suck for him to face his friends. After everything he's done, will anyone ever really trust him again?

@elkian asked: Love the Exiles. So glad nothing bad happens to them, ever, (I assume the pause before the third s175 post is bc you, like me, took a break to cry over AR hesitating to kill his friend :,(

I was so bummed, guys. Carapacians don't have ghosts, I assume - so the Exiles, sans PM and maybe WV, are gone forever.

The Red Miles will probably have obliterated their corpses, so we can't even prototype most of them - but I'm holding out hope for Waywardsprite.

Anonymous asked: heh, you aren't alone in preferring god tier dave without his hood. i was around for when cascade dropped and wasnt able to watch it straight away due to the various troubles, but one of the first things i heard about it was people talking about how stupid they thought dave's hood looked.

I know, right? Like, yeah, it definitely says 'knight', but Dave's got great hair, and it feels like a shame to cover it.

@bladekindeyewear asked: "PCG: SHE WAS CONSTANTLY FIXING MY FUCKUPS. PCG: ROBOTS FROM THE FUTURE ALWAYS COMING BACK TO TELL ME HOW SOME HASTY SHIT I DID WITH FROG BREEDING OR WHATEVER WOULD MAKE IT BE IMPOSSIBLE TO WIN. PCG: MY OWN PERSONAL MISTAKES PROBABLY ACCOUNTED FOR MORE DOOMED ARADIABOTS THAN ANYTHING ELSE." Now that the Tumor's revealed for the precision device it was, it's also clear that Aradia, likely following the Horrorterrors' instructions, FORCED them to breed the frog JUST RIGHT to create the Sun.

Yeah, the existence of that precision device really fucking threw me. Whatever it did, the frog cancer probably was deliberately engineered to cause it - and I think it was engineered by Scratch, rather than the Horrorterrors. He was also talking to Aradia during the session, and this event was key to his plan.

Anonymous asked: (And one more ask from the person without a tumblr. -DJ) The thing is, Scratch could have just said "you must create the Green Sun, it is essential for the existence of the multiverse, not doing so will create a paradox". But either he chose to trick them, by only but saying "true words", just for fun…or there is some reason telling them about their true mission wouldn't work - RM

Either is possible, and it's pretty much impossible to say. That said, the Vast Glub is proof that he does just like messing with people, so I'm going with the former answer.

Anonymous asked: (forwarding another ask from the person without a Tumblr account -DJ) Do you think there are interesting parallels between Scratch and Tarquin from OOTS? - RM

Well, they are both meta-aware villains with extremely wide-reaching plans, and they're both pretty weird about women. Hopefully this means that Scratch's much cooler son will kick his ass in a later Act.

@bladekindeyewear asked: One tiny cute detail in Cascade I love is how when the Green Sun lights up in the distance for the trolls, Terezi tries to point at it, and Karkat gently takes her arm and re-points it in the right direction. XD

Shoulda brought the Smelloscope, Terezi!

Anonymous asked: The first time i read homestuck my shit bugged out and I literally just missed the entire scrapbook section and cascade. The SECOND time I read homestuck cascade gave me such a neuron firing high that only harrow the ninth has ever gotten close to

That's exactly how to describe it. Cascade blasted my neurons, in exactly the same way that part of Harrow the Ninth did.

@rwbypro asked: Ngl one of my favorite parts about homestuck is the fact that Doc Scratch Won, like he got Exactly what he wanted, and he played everyone like fiddles, one of my all time favorite villains in anything!

He did, the bastard! Scratch managed to pull it off without a hitch.

These are the exact kind of convoluted masterstrokes you want to see in a time-travel story, and I think English's machinations will only grow more intricate, going forward.

@sanctferum asked: The juggalo cult believes in a pair of mirthful messiahs rather than just the one, so if English is one of the messiahs, that's only half the equation. Presumably, the other messiah would be Scratch.

That works! I originally thought that the Messiahs were the two members of ICP, but let's be honest, they still could be. I absolutely would not put it past this comic to reveal that Lord English was Shaggy 2 Dope the whole time.

@sanctferum asked: So now that you've seen Lord English's true appearance: he's got a peg leg, and that peg leg is a golden cuestick, filling in the last missing piece of the Felt analogy - the one that moves the billiards around in the first place. For good measure, English's peg leg, single golden tooth and his garish coat give him a stereotypical pimp appearance, which is fitting given his treatment of his female servants so far (not to mention Scratch's own treatment of both the Handmaid and whichever female player he is manipulating at any given moment. He even explicitly uses the word grooming to describe raising Handmaid!). If there was ever a pimp for Dave to lock in his own crib while dropping it like it was hot, this would be him.

Ayy, you're right! I've been waiting for the Felt's cuestick since the Intermission days!

You're also right about the comic's villains. Scratch and English aren't just screwing over female Players - they've also been fucking with Mindfang, the Handmaid, the Condesce, and even Snowman. It's absolutely a pattern.

These guys aren't just cosmic villains, they're misogynist cosmic villains. Mundane evil and supernatural evil, all together in one convenient package of shit.

Anonymous asked: Now that we've gotten past this point in the comic- I just wanted to say I forgot Expatri8 was ever a name used to refer to Darkleer- mainly because all I ever see people refering to him as is Darkleer. And at first it kinda threw me for a loop when you called him that even though it's the only name you knew for him- Anyhows- You probably noted this at some point but only upper middle class to high blood colors seem to have name names, with some exceptions. Like, they're weird, but Mindfang, Redglare, and Dualscar are all fesable names. Meanwhile the lower bloods just have titles.

It is absolutely in character of Alternia not to allow lowbloods to have names.

Anonymous asked: Just read your liveblog over the last two days. I adore your analysis! I second that one person’s reccomendation of In Stars And Time. Also I reccomend the Blue Lips homestuck video, it’s lived in my head for ages. I’m 99% sure it’s safe to watch now? It’s about the events of murderstuck and I don’t THINK it references anything you don’t know. Anyhoot! I know you mentioned vriska being like Azula when you first started getting to know her. Now that you’re as far as you are, I’d like to argue… Vriska is more like Zuko, in a way? Like. The way she wants to wipe things clean, the way he wants to restore his honor. The way they both have a “parent” that leads them to how things are, and for a while they cling to that as “right” and how things should be… One time I saw a post that Vriska is girl Zuko and Eridan is boy Azula and all the comments were arguing that no, vriska is Azula, but lowkey that post changed my brain chemistry and idk why people were SO vehemently against changing the genders of the characters in the comparison

I think Vriska works well as girl Zuko. You're right - they both started off under the thumb of an abusive parent, and they both try to 'fix' their past mistakes without understanding the wider context behind why they made them. Now, does this mean Vriska will also be getting a kickass redemption arc, which turns her into one of the comic's most straightforwardly heroic characters? Possibly, but I ain't holding my breath.

It's a little harder for me to see the second comparison, though. Like her brother, Azula was made into what she is by her horrible father, whereas Eridan became what he is on his own, with some assistance from Alternian culture.

Perhaps there are layers here that I'm just not seeing. I haven't read the Avatar sequel comics yet, so they might do more with Azula's character that I don't know about.

@mrjocrafter asked: I was trying to think about what the characters' moon alignment means in terms of their characterization, thought "Prospit dreamers are relatively passive while Derse dreamers are relatively active", then realized that's only true for the humans, the Post-Scratch Trolls' 6 Prospit dreamers (excluding Sollux, as his 'official' alignment, according to the Extended Zodiac, is Derse) are the more active characters. Then I realized that on Earth darkness and dark-associated characters are edgy and countercultural, while on Alternia light and light-associated characters are countercultural instead! Goddamn this comic just keeps coming back for more themes Also, I know you've compared Taylor to Vriska in the past, but she really strikes me as more of a Terezi. Beyond the surface level stuff (like going blind and then relying on a supernatural sense), Taylor, like Terezi has a strong moral compass but will twist it into pretzels to do the most horrific shit and there's a 50/50 chance she even regrets it afterwards. Meanwhile, Amy, who I think makes a much better Vriska, does her atrocities either under manipulation (like Vriska) or just does it without thinking about it and feels bad about it later (hey, also like Vriska). Also, Taylor Hebert and Amelia Dallon are coincidentally both valid troll names.

Yup! Which means Kanaya is a troll goth, which is still amazing.

And... hmm, I'm not sure whether I'd call Dave active or passive. He certainly acts more on his own initiative than John, but he also spends a lot of time getting bossed around by Terezi. He's kind of in the middle, really.

I do think Terezi's reframing of her violence as 'justice' is very Taylor-coded - and Amy is absolutely a Vriska, if we're working off the 'female, controversial, and morally ambiguous' definition given by a previous asker. Plus, well...

...yeah. And let's not even talk about Ward. (Because I haven't read it.)

Really, all these characters are multifaceted, and you can draw many different parallels in many different directions. If I had the time, I could probably draw lines from each of the trolls to a different cape in the Wormverse - but for now, we must continue!

@morganwick asked: Bec's influence on Jack is so strong that not only is he reduced to following Jade around like a puppy, he kills CD for completing the mission he gave him and leaves Jade, one of the players he's supposed to be killing, on her quest bed, the nature of which he didn't seem to know about when it came to John. Bec = absolute king.

Bec is a king.

It really does seem like his influence over Jack is increasing as time passes. Is Davesprite going to get more birdlike, as well? Or is Bec just a special case because he's a First Guardian?

Anonymous asked: oh my god you really just cleaned the board with the last minute Dave+Rose quest slab guess??? Like. You were going on about other things and then you just casually mention "oh I guess this could happen too" like okay!!! Seer!!!!

Yeah, I'm pretty proud of that one. I was just thinking about how Aradia might help the Derse kids, once she'd met them at the Sun, and then it hit me: she's been in exactly the same situation, in exactly the same place, because of exactly the same sun!

Anonymous asked: dogtier IS in fact what the entire fandom calls her, if you came up with that yourself congrats on the authentic 2011 homestuck experience, move over carcinisation this is the new big thing in convergent evolution

I did, but come on. That pun makes itself.

Anonymous asked: Fun fact: the music used in [S] Begin Intermission 2, "English", is the same when reversed. It is an EXTREMELY excellent detail. And another example of Toby Fox being a brilliant composer. @sanctferum asked: English by Toby Fox is a really cool song in that its a musical palindrome, playing the same both forwards and backwards, as befits the titular entity. The whole Felt album it's from is based around creating songs with time gimmicks in them, so it serves as a very good semifinal track to almost close the album out. @emotionallyglued asked: You finally got to the part where our big bad man appears! Simple question to ask but I'm looking forward towards the answer: what do you think of Lord English's theme? Grandiose enough to fit a villain of his caliber or did you expect something more/else?

Oh, shit, that's cool!

I liked the song a lot. Sure, it's not as bombastic as the boss theme I went with myself, but it is much, much scarier. It was the perfect way to remind us that this wasn't really a victory - that English's plan went off without a hitch. Our heroes are still in terrible, terrible danger.

@morganwick asked: post/756751870755733504 Still think of Doc Scratch as "Big Cal"? @sanctferum asked: You've heard of Lil' Cal and Big Cal, now get ready for the deadliest and dastardliest villain of all: Biggest Cal. Anonymous asked: you've seen lil cal, now get ready for BIG CAL @lon-kasi asked: finally, Big Ca- well. actually. Scratch was Big Cal, wasn't he? so finally, Bigger Cal

This is the real reason Scratch wouldn't tell Rose his boss's name - because if she'd known her manipulator worked for Bigger Cal, she'd have been too god damn scared to go grimdark.

Anonymous asked: T1ck T0ck goes the God Tier Clock. Its chime signals the Br8k of Scratch's H34D. And with the arrival of Lord English, he lets loose two great, Vast honk HONKS. Anonymous asked: Did you notice something about the English sequence? First, we see Scratch's clock. t1ck, t0ck. Then, his head breaks. 8r8k H34DS. He releases the Vast Honk. honk HONK.

This motherfucker died to the very words that birthed him.

I guarantee you that this was deliberate on Scratch's part. He didn't need to foreshadow his plan so blatantly - but this horrible little troll knew that nobody would get the joke until it was too late.

bladekindeyewear asked: "S u c k e r s ." The bioorganic-looking Tumor opening up to reveal a precision device. Twice the mass of a universe. Doc Scratch fucking played EVERYONE SO HARD. We couldn't believe THEY CREATED THE GREEN SUN, so hard many of us watched without REALIZING IT. If you reread the talk Doc and Rose had from p3627 onward, the amount of TRANSPARENT DODGES AND WEASELING he did in that conversation to mislead Rose and the entire readership is so blatant and shameless, oh my fucking god!!! Anonymous asked: Not only did Scratch never said the tumor would destroy the green sun, he also specifically said they would travel to the green sun LOCATION, not to the green sun itself.

God damn it!

Scratch may have been stoic on the outside, but you mark my words: he was absolutely roaring with laughter on the inside.

@sunbluethinking asked: Regarding 'a dozen or two sweeps,' you do have to remember that it seems like one sweep is roughly equivalent to two human years? (See Terezi's and Dave's 'I'm six' conversation, or whatever it was.) So my impression is that a dozen sweeps would be equivalent to 24 years and two dozen sweeps would be equivalent to 48 years. Still really short, but not quite as absurdly short. (Which actually reminds me of the question of the problem of rate of maturation in fictional races with different lifespans. (Dungeon Meshi touches on this, but) in the case of Homestuck, I think it seems like the trolls mature to adulthood at about the same rate. It's just their adult lifespans that are different.) @bellcarved asked: If my math is correct, "a dozen or two sweeps" is a range of 26 to 52 years. Still not great, but 26 would be the low end of the life expectancy, while they tend to live around half as long as a human.

So either Aradia was about to die, or she wasn't - but either way, she was always going to die young.

We still don't know whether God Tier stops you aging, do we? I have to assume so, because death by old age isn't really Heroic or Just, but I'd feel a lot better if it was 100% confirmed.

Anonymous asked: And here we learn the story of Jesus and the second coming- @bellcarved asked: Now you know the truth: Karkat Vantas is the second coming of Troll Jegus Christ. Anonymous asked: I doubt I'm the first to say this but, the story of the Signless is undeniably based off the story of Jesus Christ. @skelekingfeddy asked: you do realise that the sufferer is Troll Jegus right. the irons/cancer symbol is the crucifix. his method of execution turned into the main symbol of a religion. the dolorosa is mary. karkat is the second coming. hes literally just Troll Jegus lmao @sanctferum asked: turns out, Terezi was right all along. troll jegus was real after all, and he was indeed the best jegus. shame on you for not believing, Dave

God damn it, Karkat. You hate yourself so much, even though you're literally the second coming of Christ.

And really does add weight to Terezi's claim that Alternia had the 'best' Jesus. Sure, says she's joking here, but... well, her Ancestor was a follower of the Signless, wasn't she? Could Terezi have inherited more of Redglare's legacy than we thought?

Anonymous asked: now that you know about the signless i recommend you take another read of karkat's long password on page 3972

...huh.

It almost makes it seem like Karkat's vaguely cognizant of the Sufferer's life, the same way the Sufferer was cognizant of his pre-Scratch incarnation. Funny, that.

@morganwick asked: "For a bisexual alien, his shipping is awfully straight, isn't it?" Well, consider that when he drew that he was trying to adhere to the human model of reproduction with its explicit requirement of one person of each sex, as best he could from his alien perspective. Note that in the same conversation he's struggling to understand the "human taboo of incest". @manorinthewoods asked: Karkat's humanshipping is straight because John told him he wasn't gay, and presumably, he extrapolated. ~LOSS (28/12/24) Anonymous asked: Karkat's very straight shipping chart is the way it is because John's Not A Homosexual:tm:

I totally forgot I came to the same conclusion, back in that legendary group chat.

Man, Rose x Kanaya is really going to throw Karkat for a loop. He'll probably think that John was just bullshitting him.

@skelekingfeddy asked: steven moffat is a valid troll name Anonymous asked: You've brought it up too much not to ask, what did Moffat do that pissed you off so badly?

Once more, I am very tempted to make this a full essay, but I'll save time by just pointing to Hbomberguy's famous Sherlock video, which I agree with, like, 80% of - particularly the Doctor Who segment that I've timestamped.

In a nutshell, Moffat was always really good at generating intrigue, and building hype for future events - but as a showrunner, he never really delivered on his promises, and was very fond of handwaving established canon to the side. Pet peeve of mine, as you can imagine.

@rwbypro asked: We warned you bro, we warned you about the most important character @skelekingfeddy asked: carcinoGeneticist may have engineered the cancer…but terminallyCapricious was the one who made it terminal. ;o) @capribornio asked: Honk, honk :0) Heyyyy you reached the part where Gamzee became my favorite enemy. Forget Vriska, Jack and Doc Scratch - Gamzee may have his buttons pushed by the good ol' Doc, but he managed to make things worse than even Vriska got to (and killed more main characters, too!). Anonymous asked:Congratulations on reaching this point. So, Gamzee chucklefucked the universe. Crazy, right? @bellcarved asked: Gamzee's "Bard of Rage" title is looking more accurate than ever, now. His own rage lead him to put the clowns in John's dreams, which ended up inspiring the rage that made Jack Noir go to the lengths he did. Bardic inspiration, if you will. …also, this makes Perfect Jack a collaborative effort between Vriska and Gamzee. @capribornio asked: I feel like you get Gamzee much better than most livebloggers (and a part of the fandom, too). Gamzee is an orchestrator, on a much bigger level than any could have predicted. The silly little troll dissappeared once he got off the slime, got his religion destroyed, and got Lil Cal.

I told you, guys! I told you Bards were overpowered!

Yeah, he's already getting pretty crafty, isn't he? Maybe, instead of manipulating Gamzee like he did the girls, Scratch has actually been coaching him. After all, his own manipulating days are over, so maybe he saw fit to train a successor...

Anonymous asked: if vriska was presented with a choice about the creation of bec noir, it would have had to be before the veil because the trolls only flee into the veil AFTER bec shows up and wrecks their reward- and that's their first introduction to him. any choice she could have made about bec/jack after that would result in a doomed timeline, because it would break the loop. that's why it has to be before the veil. @manorinthewoods asked: What I mean is that the Choice that would have prevented Bec Noir is something that would have made Vriska change who she was, in such a way that she wouldn't later make Bec. Vriska's Choice that made Bec can't have occurred in the Veil, because there wasn't a Denizen to give it, so whatever it was, it must have been something to do with character growth that she failed to do. ~LOSS (28/12/24)

Oh, right, that makes sense!

Yeah, poor Vriska simply wasn't self-aware enough to make such a Choice before the Veil. It's interesting what-if, though.

@flambeaufelid asked: ICP albums liveblog maybe??? (Do people liveblog music reactions? They should.) Anonymous asked: Since you mentioned the possibility of having to listen to ICP albums to understand Gamzee better, I figured I’d better let you know that while reading a bit about juggalos, ICP, and ICP’s music does help with understanding Gamzee better if you’re unfamiliar with them (though I wouldn’t say it’s crucial), I don’t recommend listening to their music unless you’re comfortable with graphic depictions of gore, murder, and other forms of violence. (Speaking from personal experience here; I tried listening to them because Gamzee’s my favorite character and quickly realized I didn’t enjoy that.) Anonymous asked: I would say listening to icp is not necessary… I tried myself and failed not even half way through one album so I admittedly could be wrong but… I think it was never intended to be THAT serious

I checked out Miracles, back when ICP was first brought up, but I haven't seen any of their other music. It's probably not actually necessary to listen to the band to understand Gamzee, but I might still do it for fun, since the graphic content wouldn't bother me much.

@skelekingfeddy asked: according to hussie the fifth wall is what divides two narrators/authors @sanctferum asked: According to Hussie's comments, if the fourth wall is the wall between the character and the author/their audience, then the fifth wall is specifically the wall dividing omniscient narrators from each other. or something like that

I, uh, guess that makes sense. Presumably Scratch would be our second 'author' in this scenario, even though he's not literally another author of Homestuck.

[spow-ed]

*Coughing that only gets more aggressive over time*

[guppyfish77]

So about the Battle Subway Trains

Hi, I love trains! And the Trains in Unova have a surprising amount of detail? And nobody talks about it? And if I don't talk about it I will explode!?!!!

So despite Unova being inspired by New York you'd think the Battle Subway Trains would be based on The New York Subway Trains? However they look like they are more based on Japanese Railway Trains!

I'd like to preface before going into this that despite talking a lot about the Japanese Railway, I am not Japanese, while I did my best to research as best I can, some stuff may fly over my head, I also used an online translator for some information so it might not be 100% accurate.

Alrighty lets get into this! This is mainly for fun and its going to be under the Read More because it is verrrrrrrrry long, I hope that you enjoy!

If you aren't aware, each train in the Battle Subway has lore! All the lore comes from this Worker NPC on the bridge in Anville Town. Depending on the day, a different train will show up on the turntable, and he'll give you a little dialogue for that train! This dialogue is what I'll be mainly analyzing :]

Single and Anville Town Trains:

"This is a Single Train! It's the oldest train in the Battle Subway. It's for a loop line to go around the Unova region! Do you know Tubeline Bridge? The train that runs on it is this Single Train."

"As you know, this is a local train to Anville Town! Isn't it just so cute? This one is a little slow and heavy. When it runs, the whole train sways. The train car is the same model as a Single Train. Because it is an old train car, I hear the maintenance is hard, but it's the one I always ride, because I loved it as a kid!"

So! The Single and Anville Town Trains are the same model of train, you can actually see this in their designs where they both share the same face but they differ in the livery. (Livery is a term referring to the train's decor/color, the color is often associated with a particular company or in this case a particular train line.) I'm going to use this fact to assume that if one train has one feature, then it's likely that the other train also has that same feature. Such as how the description of the Anville Town Train says it sways as it runs, if that is the case then the Single Train also probably sways. (which sounds kind of awful to battle on, unless you have good train legs I suppose X_X)

It is stated that the Single Train is the oldest in the Battle Subway. I believe though, that it means the oldest train that is currently running in the Battle Subway. As there is another train that seems much older and no longer running, but I'll get to that train much much later.

Older trains are indeed harder to maintain, and expensive too. This is because the older the equipment, the harder it is to get its parts as they become more obsolete. Though I will say this, trains can last a long time! The average service life of a train is about 30-50 years, it really varies from train to train. These trains would most likely be on the older side.

There is a slight possibility that it has been continued to be maintained past it service life. Given how fond the Worker NPC talks about the train, it might have high sentimental value. Therefore if it is past its service life, it has not been scrapped or recycled yet because of it. I doubt this is the case though, usually it is never worth the maintenance cost (especially for regular operation.)

Like the description says, you can see the Single Train running on the Tubeline Bridge, here's a video of it! Apologies for the way I am recording this, I don't exactly have a capture card, but I wanted to show you guys regardless

You can see how fast the train is going as it passes below you! At least the just Singles Train anyways, seems to me like it's going about 20-30mph? I tried doing math to find the exact speed but that's difficult for several reasons (no idea how large a "tile" in Pokemon really is and objects in the overworld are not very accurate in size so I can't exactly do any comparisons. The perspective of the camera also makes it tricky.) Given how the Anville Train is described as "slow and heavy", I would hazard a guess to say that the other trains of the Battle Subway may run faster than this.

You can also see that each train is made up of 7 cars as it passes below you if you slow down the footage. Which is not surprising, you have to win 7 battles in a row to complete a "set" where you are then dropped off at a rest stop. I believe the Battle Subway trains to be electrical multiple units (EMUs) so it would probably make them 7-car sets.

It also looks like the Singles Line is very busy with the trains only being seconds apart! Now I know this is more a visual thing so the environment would be interesting to look at, but I'd like to think it indicates that the Battle Subway/Singles Line is very popular! (and very well organized!)

As for Real life train inspirations I think perhaps the Tobu 10030 series?

The Tobu 10030 is a version of the Tobu 10000 series with some minor changes, such as the design of the face and using a bolsterless bogie. (Bogie is a part of the train that refers to a frame that holds sets of wheels as well as the suspension, breaks, etc. in which the body of the train car rests upon.)(A bolster is a part that connects the side frames of the bogie and the underside of the car's central pivot point.)(A bolsterless bogie is a bogie type that doesn't have a bolster). The front of the train is covered in fiber reinforced plastic and the outer panels are "bead molded" (which... I have no clue what that means...) This series has been going under renovations since 2010.

Double Train:

"This car is a Double Train! This is a mass-produced car from a decade ago! Compared to a Single Train, the number of parts was reduced so it could be built for a lower cost. The number of parts influences the budget and construction time. The streamlined and beautiful design of the Double Train is still valued today."

So the Double Train is at least 10 years old! (That's what decade means!) Honestly though, I think the Double Train might be older than 10, in Japanese the description just says that it is a "mass-produced train from a long time ago" and doesn't mention a number... Another reason is that in the Multi Train description, it mentions that it is a test model for future trains that will replace the Double Trains. Which means perhaps that the Double Trains may be reaching near the end of its service life, which again average 30-50 years. It could be a possibility that this train may have a shorter service life than usual, who knows. This all speculation really.

As for lowering the amount of parts, from what I found it makes the train lighter. It would also probably lower the cost as well like the description says (trains are really really expensive to build! EMUs can cost $2mil-$10mil per car!)

It also mentions that it is a mass-produced car! It's a train made with mass production for commercial purposes! I believe it's usually for train lines that are really busy, where they would need a lot of trains? It typically means that there are a lot of them. (All this makes me wonder about train production in the Pokemon World...)

As for Real life inspirations, I think that the Double Train is inspired by the Tokyu 1000 series train.

The Tokyu 1000's design and equipment is similar to another train, the Tokyu 9000 series, with improvements such as improved handling and making it easier to do inspection and repair work. As well as reducing the amount of spare parts from the Tokyu 9000.

Multi Train:

"This car is a Multi Train! Few cars of this model were produced. This is a test car to develop future mass-produced cars that will replace the old Double Trains. The technology born during the creation of this train car made the Super Single Train and Super Double Train possible!"

The multi train is a test/prototype train! A little surprised that an entire line is running off a few prototypes. Like the description says, not many are produced as the purpose of a prototype is to test features and improve upon them if needed before they are put into mass production. Given that it says the technology from this train was the reason the Super Single and Super Double Train was made possible. I'm thinking it was most likely testing some eco friendly features? As it is the Super Single and Super Double Train's main feature.

Perhaps them using a model with so few trains means that the Multi line isn't that busy/popular? (Surprising then the train platform is not swarming with more train photographers haha!)

As for real life inspirations, while the livery may not be the same I think it could be the Keisei 3000 (2nd Generation.)

The Keisei 3000's body is made of lightweight stainless steel and the passenger doors have a paper honeycomb structure. When they were designing this train, they wanted it to be both environmentally (energy saving) and customer friendly (being accessible to elderly and those with disabilities.)

Super Single and Super Double Trains:

"This Super Single Train is a new mass-produced car! It's an environmentally friendly train, because they revised all the parts to drastically reduce power consumption! Newer trains have to be built in a way that's both functional and environmentally friendly. Compared to the past, they've improved significantly."

"This Super Double Train is a new mass-produced car! Such a streamlined and refined design! Beauty and utility working together! That kind of beautility is unique to mass-produced train cars! It uses the same train car as a Super Single Train. The only difference is the appearance. It is a superb train car that will go down in the history of the Battle Subway!"

The Super Single and Super Double Trains are the same model. Honestly the description of these trains doesn't give me a lot of information besides the fact that these trains are eco friendly. So I'll talk about what trains do to make themselves (even more) eco friendly!

They are stated to be eco friendly by reducing power consumption. I think it could be referring to a "VVVF inverter control" (it stands for variable voltage variable frequency. In English its mainly called the VFD or variable frequency drive.) A VVVF is a type of system for an AC motor that can reduce energy consumption! (There are two types of electrical current, DC or Direct Current and AC or Alternate Current. An AC motor is a motor that is driven by AC electricity.) It is important on energy saving trains! I won't get too much into how it works, but essentially it controls the AC motor's rotational speed by controlling the frequency. By controlling these, it can control the speed and acceleration of a train. You'll find that a VVVF is often paired with a three phase motor (I will not go into that...) Let's just say that these systems are very efficient at using power and help save energy.

Really, reducing power consumption usually means being more efficient at using power. Like using LEDs, using better insulation to retain cooling or heating, and generally using parts that use less electricity. It could be that the train is lighter in weight too (lighter vehicles use less power.)

Both of these Super Trains are mass produced! Which tells me that there are a lot of Super Single and Super Double trains! Its lines are probably busy.

As for real life inspirations, it is very much inspired by the E233-2000 series train

The E233-2000 is a little bit of an oddball in the E233 family exterior design wise. Its design was inspired by the Tokyu 5000 series. Its basic running equipment is the same as the E233 trains before it though.

I think it is a bit of a stretch, but I'll mention it anyways. The E233 (which the E233-2000 is a subsection of) is a train that has won the Laurel Award in 2007. The Laurel Award is an award given to trains by the Japan Railway Friends Association for trains with an excellence in technology and design (specifically geared towards commuter trains.) It could be what all the "beautility" comments could be referencing to? They do look verrry different though, and the E233-2000 came after the award was given...

Super Multi Train:

"This train car is a Super Multi Train! This is the latest train car! Improved acceleration and deceleration! Automated train-car controls! It's full of cutting-edge technologies. Also, a regeneration brake system, a car-body tilting system, a whatchamacallit system, a thingamabob system... I don't remember all the details, but it's just a big festival of all the latest technology!"

Ohhoho! The Super Multi Train description is a goldmine of details! This train is the whole reason I wanted to make this post! Let's run through its features!

Improved acceleration and deceleration means that it can run between stops faster, allowing for quicker operation time.

Automated train-car controls or ATC is a safety system on trains that prevents trains from going over a certain speed! If the train goes over the maximum speed permitted then the ATC will pull the brakes automatically to reduce the speed and release the brakes when it is below maximum speed. It also displays the maximum speed to the driver. It is an incredibly important safety system!! From what I understand, the term ATC is very common in Japan, in other countries the ATC would simply be a part of cab signaling (it is a safety system mainly for the driver and train crew, it tells them track status and condition information) and train protection technologies. ATC is installed on all Shinkansen trains, it is also installed in some subways and heavily used railways.

Here's an example of what it looks like! The green triangle there is the (current) maximum speed. There are a lot of different types of ATC systems and this ones a D-ATC (stands for Digital Automatic Train Control) from within an E233! There are a whole lot of different types of ATC, and they can come in many looks! I would show more examples, however, I have hit the image limit on this post... :[

A regenerative brake system is a special type of breaking that allows a train to generate electricity via breaking! The electricity can either be used immediately, stored, or returned back into the line. You might've heard this feature on electric or hybrid cars. It is a common eco friendly feature!

A car-body tilting system is a feature in trains that allows the body of the train car to tilt into a curve! It allows the train to go faster on a track (not needing to slow down on a curve) but the feature is mainly for passenger comfort! When you ride, you don't feel the centrifugal force at all when going around a curve! And it makes the ride so smooth! Here's a short video demonstrating what it looks like:

There are essentially two major ways to do a car body tilting system. There is active tilting (forced body tilting) or passive tilting (pendulum system). A forced body tilting system uses computers to tilt the train using track data or sensors, telling the train when and how much to tilt. If the calculation is not done correctly, it can leave passengers with motion sickness (An infamous example is the Advanced Passenger Train in the UK). The tilting itself I believe is done via hydraulics. Forced Body Tilting is more popular in European and American trains.

As for passive tilting, the train in the video uses it! (A controlled pendulum train!) It means it uses natural forces to tilt the train car. I'll dive deeper into this type of tilting in the Wi-Fi train section because it actually mentions it's a pendulum train! As to which tilting type the Super Multi train has... it could honestly be either.

(Ah! I forgot to mention this, but tilting trains are especially useful in mountainous regions, where there are a lot of curves.)

In the Japanese version of the Super Multi description, it also mentions that it has a "earthquake warning system" and a "tornado monitoring system".

An earthquake warning system is not something fully installed into the train, rather it's mainly a set of sensors installed along the track, coast, and major inland areas. For passenger rail, if any signs of an earthquake are detected, it will alert any trains in the affected area and drivers are required to apply their emergency brakes. For shinkansen trains it will cut off power to the affected area which will automatically activate the emergency brakes.

Well, I found something close to a tornado warning system. There is a "gust warning system" where sensors measure wind speed and to predict where strong gusts of wind would go. Again, it's not a system that is installed within the train. From what I could tell, they would restrict travel speed during strong winds. If wind speeds are too high, then they would shut down the lines. (I suppose would be very useful, especially when there's some legendaries that cause powerful storms roaming around.)

In the Japanese version of the text, it also states that the Super Multi Train is also a test train. Which again means there's also not a lot of this train. It also states that some of it's features are unnecessary due to it being a test train lol

In the description all these features are stated as "cutting edge" and "a festival of all the latest technology" when these features are not all that new? And Regenerative breaking seems to be pretty common? (Every irl train I have shown thus far all have it.) Eh, I don't think it's that big of a deal. They are just fictional trains after all.

I originally thought the train looked like an Eizan Railway Deo 800 series, but thanks to the leaks, it looks like that the JR East 205-500 was used as a base to design the Super Multi Train? With probably heavy modification to the final design. (While I don't condone the method that these leaks were obtained, curiosity did get the better of me. This is the only train that I ID-ed this way.)

This Train was exclusive to the Sagami Line, though it ended operation in 2022 and every one of these trains have been scrapped. The blue color I believe is an homage to the Sagami River that runs along the line. The Train used a semi automatic door system for its passenger doors. Which means that rather than the conductor opening and closing the doors, the passengers would press a button to open the door when the train has stopped.

Wi-Fi Train:

"This train car is a Wi-Fi Train! It is the fastest long-distance high-speed train in the Battle Subway! This is called a pendulum car. Its body tilts while going around curves, so it can run without slowing down! Faster! Farther! Our engineers' spirits are infused in it!"

A pendulum car is a very specific term!!! Like I mentioned in the Super Mutli Train section it is a type of car body tilting. There are multiple types of Pendulum systems, There is Natural Pendulum, Controlled Pendulum, Air Spring (also called Simple Pendulum), and Hybrid.

Natural Pendulum is just using the centrifugal force of when it goes around a curve to tilt the train. This type was known to cause motion sickness in riders because when it straightened out, the car would "lag" or wobble. Sometimes the force was not enough to tilt the train and this would also cause passenger discomfort. These issues were fixed later with a controlled pendulum, where there would be a degree of control to the tilting. Using mechanisms similar to forced body tilting, it would prevent wobble and ease the tilt. The air spring method, as suggests in the name, uses air springs to help with tilting. It is similar to the controlled pendulum, though it tilts less than it (controlled pendulum can tilt 6 degrees and air springs can only tilt 2 degrees). Air springs are cheaper to build though and still are able to make the train go faster. Hybrid is the combination of controlled pendulum and air springs, allowing for an 8 degree tilt.

I hope the Wi-Fi train is not a natural pendulum? You're telling me you have to battle on that and you might get motion sickness?? Though it sounds like it might be more high tech so it is most likely the other types... Hopefully...

It also states that this train is the "fastest long-distance high-speed train in the Battle Subway!" Looking at Japan's tilting trains (that are not shinkansen), they go about 120kmh-130kmh (about 75 mph-81 mph.) So it could be a possibility that the Wi-Fi goes something along those speeds.

I've looked through Japan's tilting trains, and the closest one might be the JR Hokkaido Kiha 201 series? It's not at all close though... I can't really find a good match tbh. I think the 113 series seems to be a bit more closer visually.

The one on the left is a Kansai livery and the right is a JR Shikoku livery. They are both the same train, JR Shikoku bought the 113 series from JR East to replace some aging trains and then modified it. Which is why they look a bit different. The modifications include strengthening the front of the train and adding shock absorbing material inside.

So Those are all the trains that run in the Battle Subway! However there are 2 trains that don't, instead they only show up in Anville Town on certain days. I'll be calling them "Old Train Car" and "Futuristic Train Car"

"Old Train Car"

"This train car is the kind that ran a long time ago. Compared to contemporary train cars, it has more parts, so I heard it was difficult to build. The old train cars built with lots of small parts have their own unique beauty and attract a lot of fans. Those cars no longer run in the Battle Subway, but I hear they're still used in a faraway region. Ah... I'd love to be on that train!"

So this sort of car used to run on the Battle Subway. It's said to be still running in another region, though with how old the train looks I can only think that maybe it would be running by railway preservationists.

The design of this train reminds me a lot of old Japanese electric trains and trams. Especially trams with that double roof. I don't think it's really based on any particular vehicle? Here's a couple that I found;

The only one I feel like is worth mentioning is the Jomo Electric Railway Deha 101 (this specific car is the Deha 101, others of its kind are called Deha 100 type) and the Nagasaki Electric Railway 160 type. Both of these vehicles I believe are still running to some capacity.

The Jomo Deha 101 has been running for over 90 years. While car 101 still resides at Jomo Railway, other Deha 100s have been transferred to other private companies where they have been scrapped. I believe the only existing Deha 100s today are Car 101 and Car 104 (which has been painted bright yellow.)

The Nagasaki Electric Railway 160 type used to belong to the Kyushu Electric Tramway where it was called the Type 1 Electric Tram. When it was transferred to the Nagasaki Electric Railway it was renamed into the 160 type. Today, there is a single car in operation. I believe it is the oldest wooden car in Japan that is still in service.

I suppose I will also mention the Keifuku Electric Railway Mobo 21 Type Train, it does look the most similar. Though, it's purposefully designed to look like an old style tram.

"Futuristic Train Car"

"This train car is a new train to run in the future! Wooo! Cool! Super cool! The latest motor breathes fire! Uh-oh, if it really breathed fire, that would be bad! But it is full of the latest technologies! It's undergoing a lot of testing. It's called a gauge-convertible train. It's a sweet car that can adjust its wheels to run on any rail!"

So first off, I'd like to say that this train visually kind of looks like a "Sonic" 883 series (nothing to do with the blue hedgehog, it was just a coincidence lol)

However the description!!!! A "gauge convertible train" that is undergoing a lot of testing... That description matches exactly with the GCT! (literally standing for Gauge Change/Convertible Train, though in Japanese it's called FGT or Free Gauge Train!)

The GTC is the project name for this experimental shinkansen. The one in the picture is the GTC-01, the second generation of its kind (as this is the version they would be testing before and during the development of the game, there is now a 3rd generation.) So, the term gauge refers to the distance between the two rails. Different trains run on different gauges, they can come in either narrow gauge, standard gauge, or wide gauge. Japan's rail network is mostly narrow gauge (specifically Cape Gauge.) The main exception are the shinkansen trains, which run on standard gauge. This shinkansen like the description says would be able to run on any gauge. It used to be under a lot of testing by the Free Gauge Train Technology Research Association. Today though, the GTC-01 second generation sits on display in the Shikoku Railway Heritage Museum.

There are a lot of challenges that the GTC faces. It takes a bit of time for the wheels to adjust to the gauge and you need to go slower when it's doing so. It has increased maintenance costs. The heavier specialized bogie creates more wear on the rails as well as making the train harder to detect. (Ok! Basic explanation for Railway Signaling! Tracks are split up into sections called "blocks", and a small electrical current is run between the two tracks that makes up the block. When a train runs through, the wheel and axle of the train disrupts the current, which then the system detects that block as being occupied by a train. If it is occupied, the signal lights at the end of the block will be turned red, preventing other trains from entering the same block, thus preventing collisions. The problem arises in the GTC in that the wheel and the axle are separate, thus something about this is making it hard to detect on the rail.)

With this train being a "gauge change train" it really made me wonder what gauge the Battle Subway trains runs at? I thought maybe standard gauge or maybe even wide gauge because you can only make the train so wide depending on the gauge. And you'd probably want it wider so that there is more room, especially if you are fitting a battle arena in it! However in Japanese the description mentions that "The rails are a little wider on the tracks that run at higher speeds." Which is... exactly how Japanese rail works? So the Battle Subway lines are probably narrow gauge?

Another thing that's interesting about the "Futuristic Train" is the date that it actually shows up. In Anville Town the way that each train shows up is dependent on the last digit of the day of the month, like so:

0- (10th, 20th, and 30th) "Old Train Car"

1- (1st, 11th, 21st, and 31st) Single Train Car

2- (2nd, 12th, and 22nd) Double Train Car

3- (3rd, 13th, and 23rd) Multi Train Car

yada yada you get the point (4- Super Double Train, 5- Super Single Train, 6- Super Multi Train, 7- Anville Town Train, 8- Nothing, 9- Wi-Fi Train)

The only exception is the "Futuristic Train" who will show up ONLY on February 1st, June 12th, October 1st, October 14th, and December 30th, pretty random huh? haha of course not! These dates are dates significant to the History of Japanese Railway/Transportation!

February 1st: The opening of Japan's first electric street car in 1895!

June 12th: The temporary operation of Japan's first passenger railway in 1872!

October 1st: The release of Japan's first Shinkansen, the series 0 in 1964!

October 14th: The official opening of Japan's first passenger railway in 1872, with the first two stations between Shimbashi and Yokohama! This day is also Railway Day in Japan, celebrating this event, Tokyo holds a Railway Festival and train companies like to do events on this day as well! 

December 30th: The opening of Japan's first subway line in 1927, The Ginza Line!

Rails, Station Platform, and More Train:

So the Station, there are a few details I can pick up on here!

The type of track that the trains run on (at least in the station) are ballastless tracks! It means the rail is tied directly onto a slab of concrete rather than having ballast hold it up (ballast is that rocky gravel that you often see beneath the tracks.) This type of track is quite expensive to build and makes the place a lot nosier, but it has a lot of advantages! For one, because there is no ballast to maintain, it has lower maintenance cost (ballast must be packed every now and again using a ballast tamping machine. Which lifts the track and jostles the ballast beneath it. Ballast also needs to be replaced after a while because the rocks have to be irregularly shaped for it to work, and natural weathering can make them smooth out.) It is also easier to clean and has a longer lifespan. Because the rail is tied to slabs of concrete the rails are less prone to deformation, which is good! Though it is also that same inflexibility means that it is difficult to change anything about it and takes longer to repair.

Their buffer! (that little black thing at the end of the line, I think it is a buffer?) It doesn't look like that effective of a buffer... The purpose of a buffer is to stop a train if brakes fail. Though this thing seems to be more for the driver telling them where the end is, hence all the, what I presume are, lights. Let's hope they have some sort of other safety system in place.

There doesn't seem to be a third rail. I have a feeling that might be because most Japanese railway trains are powered via overhead wire (literally every irl train I have shown is powered this way.) Maybe the Battle Subway trains might be powered via overhead wire? I might be over analyzing here, they might not have thought of modeling such a small detail haha

The train itself has some sort of device on top (that box thing.) I believe it to be some sort of air conditioning unit. Given how each train car has one large unit on top of it, I believe that it uses a centralized cooling system, which means there is one large air conditioning unit. (There are 2 other types, they are distributed cooling which consists of 6-8 small units and centralized distributed which consists of a couple of medium sized units.) Central cooling systems are easier to install and maintain because there is only one unit to worry about.

Signboards:

The Buildings in between routes have a electronic news bulletin board, and depending on which city is connected to it, the news bulletin will give a little flavor text about the city. There's some flavor text about the Battle Subway when it's about Nimbasa City, and it different depending on whether you are playing the first one or the second one, here they are:

BW

"Run and battle! Trains never stop!” Battle Subway in Nimbasa City"

"They say someone who loved battles also happened to be a railway maniac, and thats why we now have the battle subway"

So, this might be a coincidence, but there is an old name that Japanese Train Fans used to call themselves. The name was "Railway Mania" (鉄道マニア direct translation). It was used up until the 1950s. Today it's seen as a derogatory term but it was used very commonly back in its heyday (even more popular than "railfan" apparently.) I think it is kind of interesting that the term "Railway Maniac" was chosen for this flavor text and I wonder if it has anything to do with this old name. However, I say it might just be a coincidence because the term "Maniac" is not unheard of word in Pokemon (Item Maniac, Poke Maniac, Hex Maniac, etc.) But regardless, there's that little fun fact for you!

B2W2

“Get on a train and fight!” Battle Subway in Nimbasa City"

"The energy generated by heated Pokémon battles is the fuel that keeps the Battle Subway running"

I'm going to get a little headcanon-y here. We can interpret this figuratively, as in if there are no battles then its not really a Battle Subway is it? But I think it would be fun to interpret it literally! What if Pokemon Moves could get absorbed somehow to power the Train? And if the Train doesn't need it it could go into the line to power something else in the Subway! I think that would be cool :]

Extra Stuff:

●I think the Battle Subway Map could also be inspired by JR East's rail map, the main reason is the single lines (dark green) which goes in a loop around the Unova Region...

Reminds me of the Yamanote Line (light green) which also goes in a loop connecting a variety of major stations together in Tokyo and is a very very important line!

●While I do believe Gear Station is inspired by New York's Grand Central Station, I do think there's a lot of design elements taken from Tokyo Station as well

●The gray bodies of the Anville, Single, Doubles, and Multi cars are probably meant to represent an exposed steel/aluminum body rather than the ones painted white like the Super Trains.

●In the Anime, the trains are said to have an ATO system, this is also a real system, it stands for Automatic Train Operation. It's a system that allows a computer to control when the train stops and goes with no driver involved! I don't think that the trains in the games run on an ATO system though, as there are Depot Agents who talk about train driving (Depot Agent Cameron who says "I’m good at driving, but I’m not good at dealing with Pokemon." at the start of battle, and a way more obscure Depot Agent whom you can talk to on the platform after 14 wins on a Super Train who says "I’d rather have an exciting battle than slowly drive the train.")

●In the Anime, there's a stamp rally, which is a real thing! There are station stamps in Japan which tourists can collect. Though, occasionally Pokemon will collaborate with JR East to create a Pokemon Stamp Rally! The most recent is this Pokemon Horizons Stamp Rally promoting the show! Here's a map of what stamps you can collect at each station and the prizes you can get!

●In the Nacrane city library there is a book that mentions that Nacrane used to have steam locomotives running through it!

"This book is about the things you can ride in the Unova region, such as Castelia City’s cruise ship and Mistralton City’s planes. Before there were planes, locomotives carried people all over Unova. The railway in Nacrene City is a legacy of those lines." (B2W2)

What kinds of Steam Locomotives? I suppose we will never know, as we never see one in game.

●There's an Roughneck NPC you can talk to at Tubeline Bridge in B2W2 where he says

"Watch it! People use “railway fan” as a catchall term, but there are many types of railway fans! There are riding fans, detraining fans, station fans, train-car fans, schedule-table fans, picture-taking fans, recording fans, and more! Don’t go thinking they’re all the same!" (B2W2)

So in Japanese, Railway is Tesudo (鉄道, testu 鉄- Iron and do 道-Road) and a Railway Fan is Tesudofan, however fans will abbreviate to just Testu and stick what aspect of trains they enjoy with it, so like 乗り鉄 (Nori 乗り-Ride, 鉄-tetsu) as a Train Riding Fan, or 撮り鉄 (Tori 撮り-Taking a Picture, 鉄-tetsu) as a Railway Photography fan. There are a lot of these and the NPC does go over some! There's also Railway Modeling Fans (Fans who collect model trains and/or construct model railways), Collecting Fans (Fans who collect railway related items such as tickets or stamps), Operation Fans (Fans who like researching railway operation and equipment), Regulation Fans (Fans who like researching railway handbooks and laws and regulations that go into a railway), Simulation Fans (Fans who like playing train driving/railway management games), Artists/Writers, Urban Explorers, and Railway Preservationist (I gave up on the last ones lol). There are lots of ways to enjoy trains!

There's also the super specific terms of "Mama Tetsu" where a mother becomes a railway fan because of their children's interest or "Oyako Tetsu" where a child becomes interested in trains because of their parents.

●The badge on Ingo and Emmet's hats probably represents the logo for the railway company that they work for, while researching about Japanese Railway Companies, I noticed that they have a lot of circular logos, here's a handful:

From what I could gather, these types of black and white circular logos are called a mon, kind of like a crest? If you wish to scroll about the logos, here is the link for the Wikimedia commons list.

The company's logo is also what's usually depicted on irl conductor's hats anyways, in the exact same place too.

(I was looking for a screenshot to showcase the hat to put here, but instead I found this promotional video! It's actually pretty good at going over the basics of what a driver and conductor actually do! Please feel free to check it out)

●The name "Depot Agent" is a little bit of a strange name, in Japanese the name is simply "Railway Worker", a depot is often referred to a train yard, however depot can also refer to a station, given where we see this trainer class working (at Gear Station), it is most likely that the depot in this case is referring to station, so they are station workers!

Final:

After all this I have come to the conclusion that somebody at Gamefreak really liked trains! And I really think all the little details are so awesome! and it really cements the Battle Subway as my favorite battle facility!

Anyways I hope you learned a thing or two and I hope you gained a new appreciation for trains and the Battle Subway! Thanks for Reading! ✌

(If I got anything wrong, please feel free to correct me, there was a lot of information I had to sift through and I am NOT an engineer * _ * and if you have something to add please do! I would love to learn more! ^ ^

[lemonlover1110]

𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥

Sukuna

Pairing: Sukuna x f!Reader

Summary: Sukuna's twins are miniature versions of himself which can only mean one thing: they're two little demons.

Warnings: MDNI, family content, fluff(?), dad!Sukuna, smut, oral sex (m. receiving), titjob, nipple play

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Sukuna had to change a lot of things in his life when his twins came along. The man that never imagined he’d become a father, was lucky enough to knock up his girlfriend. Or wife, whatever he gets to call you now. One very unlucky lucky night he decided that protection was a stupid idea, but the universe got back at him to teach him a life lesson, and you ended up pregnant with two– Not one, but two babies. 

Sure, Sukuna loves his babies and all that shit which made it easier for him to change into a better person. He’s not a stellar parent or anything, and during the first year of their life he was struggling to figure it out but the job has gotten easier. He’d argue that the job is fun too, seeing the little shits form their own personalities or whatever is interesting. 

Though one could say that it’s only fun for Sukuna since the kids are turning out just like their father. For you, on the other hand, it is stressful. Having two children screaming just like their father isn’t exactly fun, not when you have to correct them. It was hilarious to watch Sukuna teach his nephew cuss words for the little guy to run around, yelling the atrocities (nearly giving his father a heart attack); it’s not fun when you’re in the mother’s shoes. 

“Fuck you-” “We don’t say that around here!” “Daddy says it!”

“Motherfucker!” “Watch your mouth!” “Daddy told me I can say it!”

It’s a never-ending correction in your home, and it doesn’t help that your husband doesn’t help you out. Sukuna kind of does his part by watching his mouth around the pair, but that’s not enough anymore. They’re almost six, it’s too late for them to unlearn certain words… or other behaviors. 

“Stop arguing you two!” You yell from the kitchen, hearing them bicker about something. They’re always arguing because one is mean to the other. Sukuna’s genes are too strong. Luckily for you, you were blessed with a girl and a boy so you don’t have to try again for another baby. You won’t have to repeat this.

“Ugly bastard!” Akane, your baby girl, yells. And you wish it was a moment where you got to think if you heard wrong because your baby girl would never say that, but she would. This one says it nearly daily.

“Akane, if I hear one more word out of you, girl! I swear–” You’re cut off by your husband, startling you as he hugs you from behind. He’s not listening, or well, he is and he doesn’t want you to correct the girl.

“Aren’t you just so proud of her?” He sounds elated, knowing his daughter sounds just like him. If only you could share that sentiment. You push him away and focus on finishing lunch for the little rascals. 

“My girl friends invited me out, and guess what? You’re taking over tonight.” You tell him, and Sukuna’s eyes widen. You’ve never made that threat before– Usually when you go out, you take them along or drop them off at someone else’s place because you doubt Sukuna can handle them. The longest they’ve been alone has been an hour.

“Someone will end up getting stabbed.” Is his answer, hoping that it’s enough to scare you into staying. Sukuna loves his babies, but he knows he can’t handle them. He made a grave mistake by molding them into mini versions of himself. Sukuna can’t control himself, how is he able to control two small Sukunas?

“And it’s probably going to be you if you don’t play your cards right. Good luck.” You answer, making it clear that you’re not staying home no matter what. You don’t acknowledge Sukuna as he begins to tell you the horrific sights that you might come home to. Sure, your kids are rowdy and a lot like their father but they won’t burn the house down… if you hide the matches.

“Akira! Akane! Come here!” You ignore him, calling your kids for their lunch. Sukuna sighs, rolling his eyes. 

They can’t be too bad…

“Hold his legs!” Akane yells to her brother while she pulls Sukuna’s hair. He doesn’t know what happened, he just fell asleep on the couch and woke up to his arms being restrained while one twin wipes something on his face. 

“What the fuck are you two doing?!” Sukuna raises his voice, rightfully so considering the position he’s in right now. He was warned, yet chose not to listen. Sukuna could kick the little shit that’s trying to tie him together but he won’t in fear that he might be too harsh and send the kid to the hospital. Oh, he hates them so much right now but any other time he’s willing to give up his life for them.

“We’re just playing.” Akira answers, and Sukuna could strangle one of the twins right at this moment– Too bad his hands are tied. How is this playing? Are they simulating a kidnapping or what?

“Untie me, now!” He orders, but his words go in one ear and out the other. He’s not mommy, he’s not uptight and lets them do whatever so this must be a joke.

“Quick, grab mommy’s makeup!” Akane yells, and Sukuna clenches his jaw. He’s trying to free himself, but they got him good. He needs to check what the kids are watching from now on because this is worrying for him.

“Akane, let me go before I get angry.” Sukuna threatens, but what can he possibly do when he’s tied up? 

“I got it!” Her twin comes into the living room with your makeup bag. Sukuna is squirming, trying his best to break free from his confinement but he can’t. Did they catch him while he was tying you up or what? No… He remembers locking the door. 

“If you two don’t let me free in this instant, I’ll make you pay!” Sukuna sounds intimidating, clearly angry at this little stunt. Unfortunately for him, they don’t take him seriously. They fear no one.

“You sound funny.” Akane laughs before pulling on his hair, which makes a cry escape his lips. Oh, he’d love this father thing if they were like you. This whole thing is getting annoying, but not only for him; the pair is getting tired of hearing their father cry and scream. “Akira, grab the tape, daddy is getting annoying.”

“What the fuck are you going to do?! I am your father, you two have to listen to me!” Sukuna is trying his best to break free before the twins tape his mouth and end up killing him. And by some miracle, just as they get their hands on the tape, the front door opens.

He prays that it’s you, ready to save him from the twins’ evil plan. It’s not you, but the next best thing. Sukuna doesn’t waste a second before yelling, “Jin! Stop them before they kill me!”

“What’s happening here?” His brother looks around confused. What did he just walk in on? He got a text from you to check in on his brother since Sukuna would be alone with the twins… and this happens. He sees his beloved nephew walk back with a roll of tape, and Jin picks him up from the ground. “What are you two doing to your dad?”

“They’re trying to kill me!” Sukuna yells, which the twins argue,

“We’re just playing!” Which makes a chuckle come from Jin. It isn’t funny– Well, maybe just a bit. It’s hilarious to see Sukuna get a taste of his own medicine.

“Now, you two, let your dad go.” Jin says, and at that moment they huff and puff. But they listen. He’s watching Sukuna’s expressions, and he stops the twins before they completely free him. “Stop. Go to your rooms.”

“What?! Don’t–” Before Sukuna can finish yelling, they’ve run away. They aren’t going to listen to him. Once they’re out of sight, Jin frees Sukuna and holds the man down, not trusting him enough to let him go.

“You’re not going to do anything to them, right?” Jin sounds as if he were Sukuna’s dad, which only pisses the man off more.

“The fuck am I going to do to them? I didn’t kick the little shit when he was tying my legs because I didn’t want to hurt him.” Sukuna makes a great point, but Jin wasn’t there to witness it. Right now he sees an angry man, and he wants to make sure Sukuna calms down before anything. “Why the hell are you here anyway?”

“Your wife called me to check up on you, and I came just in time.” Jin answers, sitting down beside Sukuna once he knows that his brother is calm enough. Sukuna wants to be mad at you for not trusting him enough to watch his own kids, but he also wants to thank you for saving him tonight. 

“Don’t tell her what you saw.” Sukuna quickly says. It’s more of a warning than a request. Sukuna takes a deep breath. He should be asking what the kids were going to do to him– It wasn’t going to be anything too bad, probably just put on some makeup on him or some other stupid trick. They knew he was going to say no if he asked, so they chose to tie him up. The thought isn’t too far fetched considering who their father is. What he’s thinking right now is,

“Why would they listen to you and not me?” Sukuna wonders, and Jin has an idea as to why. “I mean I’m terrifying, but you? You look like you catch jellyfish with a net and work at the Krusty Krab.”

“Ah, they’re into Spongebob now.” Jin can’t help but laugh. He won’t take the insults to heart since this has always been Sukuna. “I feel like they do find you scary, they just don’t think that you’ll do anything to them if they torment you.”

“What the fuck are you saying?” Sukuna isn’t in the mood for this. He can’t just wrap his head around this whole situation.

“You let them get away with a lot when it comes to you. You don’t let them get away with anything when it comes to their mother or other family.” Jin explains, which is valid reasoning but Sukuna rolls his eyes. That isn’t the answer he’s looking for, therefore he won’t accept it.

“Whatever you say. I’m going to check up on them before they flood the house.” Sukuna stands up from his seat, leaving his brother behind. The twins can’t be trusted for too long. 

Lo and behold, they found the matches. 

“You two came into my life as karma, huh?” Sukuna asks, before taking the matches from their grimy hands. “Akane, go annoy your uncle. Akira, you’re getting a bath and that’s final.”

“I thought you said I could bathe only once a week.” Akira points out the agreement they’ve had, but Sukuna has changed his mind. 

“I changed my mind when you and your sister did a kidnapping simulation with me. Plus, your mother says you stink and she doesn’t like you anymore so go to the tub.” Sukuna is not scared of making a little white lie to hurt his son’s feelings. It’s the least he could do.

“Mommy doesn’t what?” Akira’s eyes become watery, his bottom lip quivering at the thought of his mother not loving him anymore. Sukuna would feel a twinge of remorse any other night. 

“He’s lying, bubba.” Akane goes to his brother’s side to comfort him. She might be a little devil, but she has her soft spot. She hugs him tightly and Sukuna has to tear his eyes away from the sickly sweet scene. They won’t get to him. “You do stink but mommy loves you. She told us she loved us before leaving.”

“A lie she told you since she’s not coming back because you stink.” Sukuna isn’t going to stop, even when he hears his son cry. The boy pushes his sister away and runs to the bathroom to wash himself to make his mother come back. Hearing his own son cry is tough, but he’ll pat himself on the back later. 

“You’re next. Now go to your uncle, ask about Yuji or some shit.” Sukuna looks at his daughter, who is more resilient than her brother. She’s only five though, so he can find a way to get through to her with no issue. “Your birthday is coming up soon, huh? Guess I’ll–”

“I’m going!” She yells before Sukuna can finish his sentence, making a smirk come to his face. Smart girl.

He can handle them for the rest of the night, especially with Jin here.

When you come home, your little demons are sound asleep in their bedroom. You tuck them in, and admire the sight that you never see during the day. They almost look like they were sent straight from heaven. It’s a nice sight to come home too.

Your opinion changes when you enter your bedroom and find your husband throwing his clothes into a suitcase. You’ve noticed that over the past years he’s become increasingly dramatic. You let your presence be known as a chuckle escapes your lips, standing in the doorway.

“Is it because they tied you up?” You question, and a frown comes to his lips.

“I told Jin to not tell you. But yes.” He answers, and you step into the room. You shut the door behind you, locking the door just in case things escalate. “They don’t take me seriously, and I told you things wouldn’t go well if you left me alone with them but there you go, going out with your friends.”

“I can’t stay locked up forever taking care of them.” You respond, and he rolls his eyes.

“Leave them with Jin. They take him seriously.” Sukuna says, and you chuckle.

“Unpack your stuff, baby. Stop being so dramatic.” You tell him, heading over to the bathroom to get ready for bed. That’s not enough for him right now though. 

“I’m leaving and never coming back.” Sukuna sounds like a child, which is hilarious. Only those two can get that side out of him. He’ll continue no matter what you say, so you do the next best thing. You lift up your shirt, and his eyes widen for a moment before he tears them away.

“Your boobs aren’t going to work this time.” He claims, and you fix your shirt. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth before sighing, “But they do help.”

“Come here, baby.” You walk over to him, wrapping your arms around him. Sukuna hugs you back, and he could sob (just for the dramatics).

“They’re so mean.” Sukuna’s head rests on your shoulder, as his hand travels under your shirt to squeeze your boob. “Can you make me feel better?”

“Can you–” You begin but before you can even finish, Sukuna pulls away and throws the suitcase on the ground. He’ll unpack later. You open your mouth to speak again but he grabs the back of your head and pulls you into a rough kiss. 

His tongue wanders around your mouth, his free hand going under your shirt once again. It’s an old trick, but every time you show him your breasts, he forgets anything and everything. You don’t do it when the matter is a serious issue, but you really can’t do much about the fact that your twins are straight from hell.

Sukuna sits down on the bed, lifting up your shirt, prompting you to take it off. Once it’s out of the way, his tongue licks up your body before giving your tits attention. He rolls his tongue around your nipple while his hand plays with the other one, pinching your nipple and squeezing your boob. You really get him, knowing the exact way to get him to calm down. He pulls away, and kisses between your breasts until he gets to the other tit. He switches to your other tit and entertains himself once again.

He’s having so much fun, his mouth preoccupied with you but there’s an uncomfortable sensation between his pants. He unlatches, looking up at you with lustful eyes. Your gaze falls on the tent in his pants, making you bite down your lip.

“Help me out.” He says, and you help him unbuckle out. You pull down his pants, freeing his cock from its confinement. You kneel down in front of him, a smirk on your lips. This is a great way to apologize.

You spit on his cock before your hand wraps around the base. You lower your head, tongue circling around the tip as your hand strokes his dick. You start off so painfully slow, too painful for Sukuna. You lower your head, taking as much of his dick as you can.

You slowly bob your head, hands wrapping around the park of his cock that is outside and stroking it for him. It’s like heaven for him, though he just wants to push your head down and force you to take all of his cock. You can take it like a good girl, right? He won’t take any risks tonight.

“You can take it all.” You lift your head, and Sukuna whines. You were barely even doing anything, why did you feel the need to stop? A spark appears on his eyes, a smirk coming to his face as you cup your tits. He judged too soon.

You put his cock between your chest, squeezing your cleavage together before moving it up and down his dick. Sukuna’s eyes nearly roll to the back of his head at the feeling of your tits squeezing around him. He grabs the back of your head, pulling back and telling you, “Open your fucking mouth.”

And without missing a beat, you obey, sticking your tongue out. He spits in your mouth, and you swallow immediately. This is the reason why you ended up with twins– You just do shit that makes him feel every inch of your body raw, a need. You’re so obedient and generous with him.

Your soft flesh between his cock is too much for him, and such a nice sight as he watches them jiggle. You should do this more often is all that he can think as your hands pick up speed. He’s rolling his hips, lightly moaning as his breath gets heavy. 

“Good job.” You hear, which tells you all that you need to know. He barely praises you unless he’s close.

“Cum for me, baby. Do it all over my tits.” You tell him, and he bites down his lips to not sound pathetic. Oh, he has to control himself tonight because you might end up with another child. He can’t have that. 

His hands grip the bed sheets as he finishes all over you. His cum covers your chest, all the way up to your neck. Your fingers swipes it, bringing it up to your lips simply for his entertainment, but he’s looking for something else in the nightstand.

He could die right now.

“Ran out of condoms, and I’m not risking anything.” He’s in so much pain as the words leave his lips, and you furrow your brows. Since when has this been an issue?

“You can pull out.” You remind him, but that isn’t cutting it for Sukuna.

“I said I’m not risking anything.” He couldn’t make it any clearer. Tonight was certainly… An experience to say the least.

“Can you at least eat me out?” You ask him, standing up from the ground. There’s no way you’re going unrewarded tonight.

“You have a vibrator, work it out.” He shrugs, and you glare at him. He’s pissed off with you again, leaving him with the twins was a horrible mistake on your part.

“You’re such a jerk.” You roll your eyes at him, and hearing him chuckle makes you want to hit him. You manage to restrain yourself, managing to mutter out a simple, “Fuck you.”

“Aw, they get it from you. How cute.” He says, which makes your palm lightly slap his forehead. “Hey! Maybe next time don’t leave me alone–”

“The vibrator is going to do a better job than you anyway.” You cut him off, going to the bathroom to clean yourself up… Getting all dirty and for what? 

“If you really want another pair, I’ll give them to you.” Sukuna stands up, following behind you to annoy you.

“Get a fucking vasectomy.” You respond, and you feel his arms wrap around you, stopping you from going any further. Of course he can’t leave you alone. “Sukuna, I’m going to shower.”

“I’ll help you.” 

[tender-rosiey]

You think when gojo was training his infinity technique, he still had his slip ups where he actually did manage to fry his brain a little, resulting in a prolonged migraine? And then reader chimes in to take care of him to ease his pain?

considerate — gojo satoru x f!reader

satoru's feet are dragged behind him as he walks into your shared dorm. the familiarity of the room welcomes him and he feels his shoulders relax just a tiny bit.

on his path to perfecting his infinity, the strongest sorcerer was bound to slip up. unfortunately for him, slip ups like these—no matter how tiny—would cause the worst migraines of his life which he is currently experiencing.

for a moment, he can’t find you, and he would like to dramatically call for you. but the migraine is limiting theatrics for now.

he knows you’re here, but he can’t see your figure yet and it bothers him.

he rubs his eyes a little harshly with a groan while his hand runs through his hair, “y/n, where are you?”

he hears your feet pad on the ground before he is finally met with the sight of you.

and despite the pain and how much he wants to close his eyes and drown everything out, he really wants to see you. a small smile—albeit pained—appears on his pretty face as he pulls you close, mumbling, “missed me?”

you pull his face towards your own and press kisses to both of his cheeks, “I always do, you know that,” your hands cover his eyes gently and his own hold yours to press them closer to his face.

he sighs, leaning further into your touch, and you frown, “tough day?”

“something like that,” he mutters, “fried my brain just a little.”

your hand moves to stroke his hair—he whines, but quietens at the feeling of your fingers carding through his hair—then you tease him, “careful, pretty boy, keep that up and you will really live up to your dumb boy reputation.”

he grins down at you. “you think I am pretty?”

“of course, that’s what you will focus on,” you grumble then move to sit on the couch. you think he will lay his head on your lap as usual with his enormous body stretching on the couch, but he doesn’t.

instead, he sits on the ground between your legs. he buries his face in your stomach and his arms wrap around you.

“’toru, I have to get you a cold wrap.”

“no.”

“you should at least drink some water so your migraine can get better.”

“I already feel so much better.”

“satoru, are you telling me that simply burying your face in my stomach is enough to magically heal you?”

he pulls away slightly to grin at you, “are you the one having the migraine?”

“no, but I am the responsible one—“

“exactly, so let me hug the love of my life,” he cheekily says before kissing the pulse point on your forearm, “thank you.”

you grumble causing him to chuckle, but he quickly goes quiet once again.

your hands are gently massaging his scalp and he lets out a soft sigh.

considering what he went through, you guess that he will probably fall asleep in a while, but then he speaks up slowly, “I…wanted to show you this new trick with my technique.”

“oh?”

he nods and continues, “I managed to teleport.”

“really? that’s awesome, ‘toru!” you beam, hands never stopping their movements.

“exactly!” he quips then grumbles, “and I wanted to teleport to that place you like so much, but I can’t right now and it’s so lame!”

this is one of the things people tend to not notice about satoru. he is an annoying idiot, sure. he reminds you of those kids in middle school that pull the ponytail of the girl they like.

but he is still so considerate to other people in his own way. he speaks a lot and loudly, but his actions always speak louder.

you feel your heartstrings tug at the sentiment so you tilt his head up and your eyes look intently into his own azure ones.

satoru is convinced you’re having a staring contest so he puts on his “concentrated” face.

you humor him for just a moment, before a helpless chuckle escapes your lips, “you silly goose,” you softly kiss his eyelids, “my silly goose.”

you gently pull his head toward you and press a kiss to his forehead, then his cheeks, and then a gentle peck to his lips.

his cheeks turn the slightest shade of red as he watches you, and his ears are a tinted a light shade of red.

awestruck, he can’t help but stare at you, “I…I am caught between telling you that I fell in love with you all over again and telling you that that was so corny.”

with a roll of your eyes, you pinch his nose lightly, “then you should just go to sleep, loser.”

he gasps then huffs and looks away, “always so mean.”

“right?” you hum while you pet his hair, “whatever shall you do, lover?”

satoru is endearing when he is quiet like this, not quite flustered but just a tad bit shy. and even when he is mad at you, he always leans into your touch. so you’re not surprised about his following line.

“if I sleep right now, we will cuddle, right?”

and you smile with a nod because as much as satoru actively wants your love, you want his just as much.

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[dollfacefantasy]

Restless Dreams

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: leon gets home late after another hard day at work to you having some extra sweet dreams.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, fingering, somnophilia, wet dream

word count: 3.6k

a/n: hey everyone!! hope you all enjoy this :) i guess i've been into soft leon with somno lately idk LOL. i was kind of tired myself when writing/editing this, so forgive any errors pretty please. new divider from here. thank you for any comments and reblogs <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @petitecolibri @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @nexysworld @explorevenus

“So what time do you think you’re gonna get here?” you ask before blowing on the drying polish that coats your nails.

“My shift finishes up at 12, and then I gotta file some reports. I’ll probably be done at 1, so not too long after that,” Leon explains through the phone. Despite his attempt to lay it out for you, there’s still a pause, one he came to recognize as your reaction of displeasure. A smile plays on his lips. “But you know the real answer is as soon as I can.”

You look down at your phone on your vanity, a pout forming on your face. Obviously, it wasn’t his fault he had to work so much now. He’d warned you when he started at the police station a few months ago, but it didn’t prepare you for how much you’d miss him.

It made you feel dumb, that nagging, achy feeling of longing in your chest. It wasn’t like he was off to war or something. You still saw him almost everyday. But more and more of his time was consumed by work now. Even when he was with you, he was often exhausted. 

Sometimes all you could think about his new job was that he was your boyfriend, not theirs. You’d mentally scold yourself for being so immature when that happened, but the sentiment still lingered in your head.

“Ok…” you say, trying to keep your voice neutral. He hears the dejection in your tone though.

“Baby,” he coos in that voice that sent warmth through your spine and got you to agree with everything he said, “You know I’d rather be with you. I’m just new and have to take the time to learn. Plus, with the caseload and the number of officers here, they need me at the station.”

“I need you more,” you say. You try to pass it off as playfulness, but it comes from real feelings. Your heart was beginning to tense with resentment for the RPD for taking him away so much. You knew the job meant a lot to him though which is why you would never unleash your admittedly petty frustrations.

A low laugh leaves him, and you can hear that loving smirk on his face as his voice comes through your phone’s speaker.

“Do you now? You’re really missing me that much?” he teases, leaning back in the driver’s seat of his cruiser. 

He knew that you did in fact miss him that much. And even though, since starting at the police station, he tried to project the image of a tough guy, he missed you just as much. That’s why he started calling you during lulls in his shift.

“Mhm. It’s not fair. It’s like I’m sharing you with the station. And I don’t like sharing,” you say with an exaggerated huff.

“Oh, I know you don’t,” he chuckles. He sighs happily, checking the time to calculate how much time was left before he could have you in his arms again. “But not much longer, baby. Then you get me all to yourself for the whole weekend.”

“I better,” you grumble with a smile.

“I promise you will,” he says genuinely. A light on his dashboard flickers, alerting him that his attention is needed elsewhere. “Just don’t stay up too late waiting for me tonight, ok? Your rest is important.”

“Seeing you is more important,” you respond.

“I know, but I prefer my girl when she’s not all cranky and sleep deprived. So try tonight, sweetheart. For me?” he asks.

“I guess,” you concede. Your heart already aches, knowing he’s about to hang up.

“I love you, baby,” he says softly, “I’ll see you later.”

“I love you too,” you tell him before he disconnects the call.

The silence that falls over your room makes it feel even more empty. You tap the glass screen of your phone, scanning for the time before you finish getting ready for bed. Your mouth curves downward when the numbers light up on the screen.

Only 10:30. Too much time till you’ll hear him come through your front door, but it’s not like you can do anything about it. You haphazardly go through the rest of your routine before dragging yourself over to your bed and getting in.

Sliding between the soft pink sheets, you flop down against your pillow and stare at the ceiling as you contemplate how to kill the time. Nothing grabs your interest because none of it’s him. It’s all just filler.

And worst of all, you were starting to feel sleepy. You wanted to wait up for Leon so badly, but you also went through a whole day of your own that tired you out. Plus, your bed was just so comfy with your plush blankets and full pillows, stuffed animals and frilly decorative cushions scattered on one side.

Thinking it would help to keep your eyes actively focused on something, you try to read. Your eyes scan over the words, and it isn’t long before you realize you’d made a horrible mistake. Moving your eyes along the page only made them more drowsy.

Next you turn on the tv and put on something you didn’t really have to pay attention to. But the soft glow of the tv casts across you and the low chatter of the characters becomes background noise, making it even harder for you to keep your eyes open.

You lazily reach across your bed and grab the bunny stuffie Leon had bought for you a few weeks prior. Tucking it beneath your chin and close to your chest, your drooping eyes fall shut and your breaths become soft and even. Barely any time has gone by before you’re sinking into slumber.

Leon glances down at his phone, the small numbers illuminating 2:04 in the darkness of the hallway. He enters your place with the key you gave him and shuts the door as quietly as possible. He knows you’re sleeping from seeing the dark bedroom. Already feeling guilty for taking longer than he’d expected, he didn’t want to add to that feeling by waking you up.

He makes his way to your room, padding silently down the hall. Once he reaches the door, he pushes it open with almost no force in an attempt to avoid even the slightest creak. You’re where he expected you to be, curled up in your bed, completely peaceful as you slept. He knew he probably looked like a little lovesick puppy right about now, eager to hop into bed and snuggle up to your side, but he didn’t care.

It takes him no time to shed his police uniform. He makes quick work of unlacing his boots and kicking them off. His pants and shirt crumple up at the foot of your bed next to his belt and socks. Finally, once he’s got on a pair of sweatpants he kept at your place, he climbs into bed with you.

He shoves your stuffies and extra pillows out of his way with a playful roll of his eyes and gets as close to you as he can. His arm drapes over you, and he nuzzles the back of your neck, planting a few kisses on the base of your head. You smelled so good, felt so soft, perfect to come home to.

His body melts into the mattress, and he’s ready to give into his own urges to sleep. That is until he notices you’re not as peaceful as you appeared from the doorway. His eyebrows raise as he feels your legs squirming. Restless movements from your feet beneath the covers and your thighs shifting aimlessly against each other.

He’s ready to brush it off at first. ‘Must just be having some wild dreams,’ he thinks with another kiss to your head. But then he hears the faintest sound, so quiet that he probably would have missed it had he been focused on anything else. It’s a whimper. A gentle, tender squeak that slips from between your lips into the cool air of your bedroom.

Now, his face conveys his concern. He worries you’re having a nightmare. That at any moment you’ll wake up with tears in your eyes and your heart pounding out of your chest. Immediately, he begins stroking your arm, kissing your temple, murmuring “It’s ok, baby. I’m here.”

But you make that little noise again, and this time it paints a different picture in Leon’s head. This whimper didn’t sound scared or stressed, like you were crying out for his protection. No, this sound brought to mind images of you writhing beneath him, nails marking his biceps with small crescents as he pumped himself in and out of you.

He shakes his head because that couldn’t be it. That’s just his horny mind creating things that aren’t there from being so pent up.

At least that’s what he tells himself until you make the noise again. It brings the same memories up, but this time he’s even more sure of it. He lifts his head off of yours to look down at you and try to figure out what to do next.

You look so cute, brows slightly furrowed, lips parted. As he brushes some hair from your face, he notices your fingers clutching your stuffed rabbit a little tighter. Your breath hitches for a moment before you let out a soft, sleepy whine of his name.

It’s unmistakable now what’s going on. He smirks and traces a finger over your lips. The pad of his index finger drags on your bottom lip slightly, turning your mouth into that pout he loved so much. He leans and kisses your cheek as you whine again.

“Please.”

He chuckles at how needy you sound even in your sleep, but at the same time, your voice has blood rushing to his cock while his head swirls with desire. He shifts his own hips, subtly pressing his erection against your ass. His eyes flutter at the minute pleasure. He grows more bold, and his hand rubs your hip before coasting up your side to your chest, giving your breast a gentle squeeze.

You whimper louder and squirm. He squeezes again softly while lowering his head to your neck to lay some tender kisses on the side of your throat. His palm leaves your tits and smooths down over your tummy in the direction of your shorts.

Cautiously, he maneuvers his hand past the waistband and dips into your panties. He cups your pussy, feeling the heat radiating off the area. A single finger slides between your folds in almost an exploratory touch. He feels your slick all over his digit. Clearly, this dream was a pretty good one.

He begins to use another finger, sliding the two up and down through your wetness. You roll onto your back, your breasts rising and falling as your breath gets heavier. Your thighs spread a little as if you subconsciously sensed his presence between your legs.

In your dreams, Leon was doing a lot more than rubbing you with his fingers. After you had fallen asleep, it felt like no time had passed. All of the sudden you were just on the table in your dining room, spread out for his rapture. 

You didn’t realize you were dreaming, everything felt so real. To you, he was really there, looking down at you with those loving yet lecherous eyes. Hands roaming your exposed body, lips caressing your skin all over. Everything seemed light and airy while also feeling heavy and thick. Your head, filled with clouds, slipped in and out of the moment. The sensation of him rutting his cock between your thighs and sliding inside of you was your reality at the moment.

In actual reality, Leon continues to move his fingers slowly, swiping them over your entrance and taking them back up to circle your clit. You mewl when he applies some pressure, sending sparks through you. Your squirming becomes more motivated, and he can tell your drifting away from your restful sleep back toward consciousness.

“I’m right here, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice huskier with arousal this time around.

You hear his voice in your dreams. The deep rumble enters your ears as you envision his hips pistoning into your wanting cunt. You mumble something in response, but he can’t understand the sleepy babbling. He rubs your clit a little harder with some more speed. You twitch in response, yet your eyes remain closed.

“I know, baby. I know it feels so good,” he coos and kisses behind your ear.

More incoherent words fall from your mouth. He sucks love bites into your neck, and you tilt your head back, craving more of that feeling. The dream version of him began mimicking the actions of the real Leon as you neared waking.

Whining louder, your fingers dig into the smooth fur of your plush bunny before letting it go. He nips at the sensitive skin of your throat as his fingers travel down and push inside your heat.

The feeling rips a moan from you and causes your eyes to open. Your back arches as he works them deeper. Your hips wriggle a little as you make sense of what’s happening.

“Leon?” you whimper. Your sleepy eyes struggle to stay open after being torn from the fog of sleep.

“That’s right, baby. It’s just me. You were having some nice dreams, weren’t you, pretty girl?” he says.

“Mhm,” you hum mindlessly.

“About me?” he teases, eyes watching your body fidget with the pleasure you felt.

“About you,” you confirm before he leans down and kisses your lips. They were so soft against his own. He slowly moves his mouth with yours and languidly slides his tongue against yours.

You moan into the kiss as his fingers curl within you and hit your favorite spot. Your feet lightly kick at the sensation. Your hips rise a little as you feel the flood gates holding your release about to break.

You’re too sleepy to tell him out right, but he knows the signs. He keeps working you there until your body seizes and arches off the bed. You let out a throaty moan and turn your head to bury your face against his shoulder.

“There you go. Let it all out, sweetheart,” he whispers and kisses your head.

You ride out the high on his hand, and by the time you’re done, you’re ready to fall asleep again. Your mind is hazy with the fog of release. You’re drifting off as your body settles without even realizing it.

You’re only yanked back to reality by Leon scooping you up into his lap. He’s sitting with his back to the headboard, and he situates you between his thighs, back against his chest. His arms keep you caged in nice and close, safe and warm.

“Don’t fall asleep again just yet, babydoll,” he murmurs while kissing up your neck.

Your head lolls back against his shoulder. The fight to stay awake gets a little easier as his hand returns to your soaked panties. He doesn’t tease this time, just slides in two fingers and starts moving them in and out.

The new angle makes you squirm and whine, but he holds you tight in place with his free arm.

“Gotta work you open, honey. Can’t just slide my dick in you with no warm up,” he says with a smirk.

His voice pulls you towards lucidity a little more. Your hands wrap around his free arm for support while your hips instinctively roll into his blissful touch.

“I missed you,” you choke out between gasps and whimpers.

“I know you did,” he teases, grinning against your throat. His cock throbs against the small of your back as his ears latch onto the sound of your slick around his fingers. “Came home to cuddle with my sweet girl, and I find her having such dirty dreams.”

Your cheeks heat up as you start to piece together what had happened. You fully realize now that your escapade on the kitchen table was entirely in your mind. You feel embarrassed for a moment, but the feeling dies pretty quick as you rapidly approach the edge for a second time.

“Not my fault,” you whimper shyly.

He chuckles and kisses your temple once more. “I know it’s not. If anything, it’s mine. I think I’ve been neglecting my baby,” he says with a mocking lilt in his voice.

You cry out as his fingers brush against those same spots that brought you to the finish last time. Your hips twitch, and you grip his thighs as your peak rises within you. Moments later your cumming all over his fingers, sucking in a harsh breath as a second release courses through you, even more intense then the last.

His free arm keeps you secure against his chest while rubbing your side soothingly. The heel of his other palm roughly massages your clit as his fingers pump in and out.

“Good girl,” he coos, “That’s it, just one more and then I can put you to sleep how you deserve.”

As soon as you seem to be coming down, Leon lifts you up again, tugging your clothes off and moving your body around like a doll to get you in the position he wants. You were definitely more pliant after two orgasms, but you could also see how his training had been paying off. Maybe this new job wasn’t all bad.

He has you on your back now, thighs against your chest and knees hooked over his arms. Again, he had no patience to tease right now, so after pushing his sweats down to mid thigh, he takes his cock and slides it in you with no hesitation. He groans as your hole takes him in, your walls pulsing around him even after he bottoms out.

“So wet. I can just slide right in,” he mumbles as his own hips twitch.

Your eyes droop at the stretch. It always felt so satisfying, having him buried balls deep in you. As close as he could possibly be. No fear of him leaving or pain of being separated. You whine and reach up to pull him closer.

He follows along and rests his face against your neck as he begins thrusting. You hear him panting right in your ear. His hands grip your hips so hard you know there’ll be marks.

“Perfect pussy’s made for me,” he grunts while snapping his hips, “Miss it every second I’m not inside it.”

You nod lazily as you continue to clamp down around him. After two releases, you didn’t even feel a building ecstasy anymore, just a constant stream of pleasure.

“Leon,” you whine, “Harder. Wanna feel it.”

He moans at your plea but indulges you, grabbing you harder, pressing your legs higher, filling you deeper.

“Wanna be sore after, don’t you, sweetheart? Want a reminder of me while I’m at work. Something to tide you over till I can do this again. Won’t have to rely on dreams then, right?” he says.

“Yeah,” you whimper. Your bed creaks as he picks up the pace, but your moans mask the sound as they grow in volume.

He fucks into you over and over, stoking the flames within himself, trying to build to that explosion. You were so tight, so warm. He hums another low moan and whimpers softly as he feels it right there. He gasps softly before holding you tighter and muttering in your ear.

“Ready for another one, honey? Gonna be the last one and then we’ll get you comfy and off to sleep.”

“Yeah,” you moan again, unable to say much else.

“Good… good girl,” he moans before his hips buck wildly and he finally releases.

You finish for a third time. You cling to him tight as the euphoria washes over you again. Locking your legs around his hips, you keep your face pressed to the warm skin of his neck as it goes through you. You feel the hot flood of cum he fucks into you. His chest is heaving now too as he recovers from the high.

He stays on top of you for a moment before pulling out. You cling harder upon losing that full feeling. He smiles at your desire to be close to him and gives you one more kiss before sitting up.

“So sweet to me, baby. I hope that made up for the late night,” he whispers and strokes your hair.

“It did,” you say with a nod. Your eyes were already shutting again, ready to go back to sleep after being fucked so good.

He looks at you with all the love in the world as he pulls his sweats up. He then helps you pull your panties and shirt back on, trying to laugh at your sleepy, half-assed movements.

After that, he gets you all tucked in next to him, snuggled up in his arms like he originally intended. He even grabs that stuffed bunny he got you and fits it close to you in case you want it.

“Get some rest, honey. You need it,” he whispers while rubbing your back.

“Mhm,” you respond tiredly, “You too. You’re all mine for the weekend, and I don’t want you tired out the whole time.”

“Alright, but I’m gonna be tired out if we do some more of that again tomorrow,” he jokes. He pulls you close to him and shuts his eyes, nestling his head against yours and settling in to rest.

That puts a smile on your face and you nuzzle him once more before letting yourself fall asleep for the night.

[aphroditesmoon]

Okay but like…clarisse jealous?

I like a challenge when the prize is you

clarisse la rue x fem!demigod!reader

warnings: platonic luke x reader, kissing, title is from center by sir chloe.

wc: 2.0k

Today was your birthday, and though birthdays aren't exactly a big thing in camp half blood, considering there are probably more than 300 kids here, your cabin siblings decided to plan out a small party to celebrate it anyways.

You are easily one of the most highly respected demigod here. When you first arrived at camp, you held your ground and barely showed any fear nor awkwardness. You were friendly and charming but knew when to not take people's shit, that had earned you a favorable reputation and had gotten your godly parent to claim you after only being there for two weeks. 

People liked you. And because of the way you're perceived, they were all pretty surprised to find you in a secured relationship with the commonly known camp boogeyman.

You and Clarisse hit it off rather quickly. What started as a playful banter bloomed into a strongly bonded friendship, and then soon enough, became a romantic relationship. 

The two of you grounded eachother constantly, you compliment eachother personality wise, and you just have much more in common then people think. 

Equally as excited as your cabin siblings, Clarisse arrived right on time for your party in your cabin. The event was a private one, only your siblings and close friends are invited.

They had worked together baking a lovely raspberry cheese cake for you along with some brownies and chips. Despite it being your party, you were warned of stealing a taste of any of the food before the party begun.

You were immensely grateful when the clock finally hit 8pm and everyone invited finally arrived. "Can I cut the cake now?" You asked for the 5th time.

"Yes." Your siblings answered together, laughing at your excitement. Clarisse sat by your left, passing you the cake cutter. "Can you do it?" She mumbles as she watches you struggle to push it all the way down. 

You hummed positively and pressed on harder untik the knife finally reaches the bottom of the cake and everyone cheered. "There you go." You mutter to yourself.

Continuing to cut the rest of the cake, you soom began passing the pieces to everyone on paper plates before leaving the rest of it for yourself.

Clarisse was quick to scoop up a section of it with a spoon to wave it over your face. "Alright baby, you know how it goes, open up." Everyone else was laughing at the sentiment, but you weren't bothered by it at all, opening your mouth wide open for Clarisse to feed you like a mother does to her toddler. 

The party hat you were wearing really tied it all together. Nothing says festive more than a coney party hat with pink and yellow polka dots over them. 

"Oh this is amazing." You say with your mouth full, moaning at the taste. "Here, let me do it." You offered quickly,  taking the spoon from Clarisse to feed her the same way. 

If it was any other day, she'd rather die than get caught being babied like this, but it was your birthday, so automatically, you get a free pass. 

"Someone should take a photo." One of the girls called out, Clarisse' glare immediately shut her up. You laughed at her reaction, squeezing her cheek. "Oh no, you're grumpy again." She rolled her eyes and relaxed her face from all the frowning.

"I'm not grumpy, I just naturally look like this." She defends herself as she eats her portion of the cake. 

Music was playing on the back, a mix of Debussy and Tchaikovsky on shuffle as everyone knew how overwhelming loud party music made you feel.

It was all well and beautiful, everything went better than expected, and it's in these moments, surrounded by your loved ones and feeling your happiest, that you feel the luckiest in life. 

It was present sharing time when you heard your cabin door knocked on. You ignored it ar first, letting your sibling check on the visitor as you continue to open your presents. 

"Oh my god, it's a cat sweater!" You exclaimed at your sister's gift. She was only 10 with a passion for sewing and fashion, and she probably took days to make the sweater. You could see the slightly folded and unsymmetric edges, making it even more endearing. 

"You said it's your favourite animal." You nodded your head and bear hugged her. "It is, thank you for this." 

You were about to open your 4th present when your sibling that you had sent to check on the door came sprinting back. "Who is it?" You asked with a raised brow.

"It's, Luke." The name caused the noise around you to husb down. You could feel Clarisse stiffen next to you when you smiled. "Oh, is he joining us?" You doubt it, seeing as he wasn't exactly invited, and it was already so much people here.

"No, he said he wants to see you outside." 

You and Luke are as close as he is with anyone else. His face is usually what new campers are met with, being the leader of Hermes cabin and all, he's always taken the role of the mentor very naturally, never having a problem helping the new kids find where they belong.  

Clarisse unfortunately doesn't view your friendship with him as just that. You've seen the way she tries to size him up whenever he attempts to talk to you alone.

You stood up from your sitting position and ushered your friends and siblings to get back at the eating and dancing as you walk yourself out of the cabin to meet him.

Your hand slips away from Clarisse's. You give her a quick smile that meant 'don't worry about me', before you disappeared from her sight.

Just as you were informed, Luke is outside the door when you exit from it. He wears his easygoing grin when he sees you. You returned his smile and spoke his name.

"Hey." He greeted you. "Got the birthday girl a present." He shows you the small box he carried with him, wiggling his brows as he speaks.

"Oh, Luke, you shouldn't have." He shook his head at you nonchalantly. "Don't worry about it, just wanted to get you something." His presses the box into your hand and folded your fingers over it before taking a step back.

"Thank you, Luke." You tell him, meaning those words. He gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Your welcome. Now, I'm sure you'd like to go back to your party. See you tomorrow?" You nod your head.

"Alright then, have a good night, happy birthday." You waved at him as he walks off towards his own cabin, waiting until he's a few steps away before going back in. 

You were glad that no one really noticed you until you were near to the group to sit down. Though Clarisse's eyes were on you as soon as you entered the cabin.

Some of them stopped eating as they moved to seat crisscrossed closer to you. "What did he want?" One of them asked. 

You lifted the box up for them to see. They responded with an 'oooh' as they wait for you to open it. "It's so small." Your younger sibling noted, hovering above the box. "Maybe it's a ring." The other suggested. You snorted and shook your head.

"And where would he find a ring around here, less alone to make one." You knew it wasn't a ring. Besides the fact that he didn't have your ring size, he wouldn't give you such a bold gift that could cause a misunderstanding and piss of Clarisse at the same time. 

You opened it gently and awed at it's inside. It was a brooch. One in the size of your thumb. A golden coloured hibiscus engraved brooch. "This is lovely." You noted, letting everyone else look at it.

"It's fine." Clarisse countered, her nose scrunching at the view.

As your younger sibling held it in her hand to properly look at it, you reach over to Clarisse, intertwining your fingers together again. "What about you? No gift for little ol' me?" You ask her jokingly.

"Of course I got you a gift," she scoffed, leaning in to your side. "But I'm not gonna give it here. These chatterboxes can't be trusted."

"These chatterboxes are my siblings." She shrugged at your words. "Never said you weren't a chatterbox either." You gasped loudly, faking offense and lightly slapping her arm. Her grouch falls away, her pursed lips curved into a small smile. 

The rest of the party went well, you managed to get everyone to finish the food so there wouldn't be any leftovers. And despite the argument your cabin presented, you helped them cleanuo the mess and threw away the trash before ot was time to turn off the lights.

You made sure all your younger siblings have been tucked in and all your older ones are done with the chores before you and Clarisse leave the cabin past 11pm.

Some of the girls sent you teasing looks before you left,  but they all swore to secrecy and made sure to cover for you just incase Chiron or Mr.D heard of your little past curfew late night walks.

Once the two of you made it further into the woods, Clarisse pulls you by the arm to sit down next to her on the less harsher part of the grass. You immediately moved to wrap your arm around her neck, resting your head underneath her chin, she wraps her own arms around you and placed a chaste kiss on your hair. 

"Happy birthday." She whispers against your forehead. 

You looked up at her from your position and eyes her suspiciously. "I thought you said you had a present for me?"

A short laugh escapes her as she ruffles your hair. "My presence is not a gift enough for you?" You blinked and answered; "No." 

Clarisse laughs again and uses her right hand to pull something out of the inside pocket of her jacket. "Well, at least you're honest." She did not have a box or a wrapper like the others did. But your heart melted at the sight of the present still.

It was a string of pearls. A necklace. And you could tell from the shine and the ivory colour of it that they weren't fake pearls. They attracted you like a moth to a flame.

"Clarisse, this is beautiful." You told her, she passes it onto your hands and watch as you eye them closely. "I know. Better than the stupid pin." You brows raise at that, your gaze darts from the necklace to her face. 

"Careful Clar, some might say you sound a bit jealous." She huffs and winces at that. "I'm not jealous- I- I just...don't like him." 

"And why don't you like him?" You question her. "Because he keeps hitting on my girlfriend." She answers in a matter of factly tone. "Being nice doesn't equal flirting." You tell her.

"I know that. Does he know that?" 

Clarisse has never liked the way Luke talked to you, and sometimes you genuinely wonder if she was right and if it was you who never noticed any of his romantic advances. But your principle has always been straight to the point, if he doesn't say it outright, then it's not real.

"Well, he hasn't crossed a line so far, so I'd say yes." It wasn't that you're trying to defend Luke, you just don't see what he's done so far that deserves defending at all. 

Clarisse grunted in response and pulls you back into her arms. You refrain from holding her by placing your palms on her chest. "Wait, put it on me first." 

Something clicks behind her eyes like she just remembered about her gift. "Oh, right." You turn around with your back facing her. Clarisse places the pearls over your neck and hooks the back together in one try.

Twisting your body to face her again, you fiddled with the necklace and looked at her for approval. "Well?" She smiled as her fingers came close to your face to brush away the strands of hair covering your cheek. "It fits you." 

You let her pull you by the back of your head to kiss her, welcoming her lips with yours. 

Not that you'd ever admit it aloud, but having her by your side would always be the real birthday gift to you.

[papiliotao]

꒰ 𝒎𝒊𝒅𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒄𝒍𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒚 ✩࿐

pairings: alhaitham, diluc, kaeya, and zhongli x gn!reader (separate)

content: hurt/comfort, fluff, established relationship, arguments (unspecified reason), reader and character live together

summary: after a heated conflict with your boyfriend, you decide to sleep on the couch instead of together on your shared bed. how does he react?

a/n: shockingly, i'm not writing for any anemo boys this time. that's mainly because this is a gift for @spiritingawaytoanime for @favonius-library's gift exchange event! i hope you enjoy!

The sound of the front door closing is the only sound that can be heard as ALHAITHAM steps into your living room. An ocean of pitch-blackness threatens to drown him. The space lacks illumination. Darkness floods into every crack and crevice of your home, invading an otherwise peaceful space.

He breathes out a sigh as he walks down the hallway of your shared apartment. Alhaitham doesn’t bother flicking on the lights. He knows you’re probably asleep already, and he’d rather not disturb you, especially since you were in a foul mood earlier. So unpleasant, in fact, that you got into a petty argument with him. However, Alhaitham isn’t really that worried. He knows that in the end, you’ll be able to sort out your differences.

But when he enters the bedroom, he immediately feels that something is off. The air feels colder than usual, biting his skin with the ferocity of a thousand cuts. It’s unsettling and especially disturbing to Alhaitham because such feelings don’t often overtake his frozen heart. It almost feels as though the atmosphere has the ability to thaw his emotions, awakening a sentimental side of himself that doesn’t often show beyond his rational demeanour.

When he approaches the side of your bed, he instantaneously realizes what’s wrong. You’re not here. You’re not here. An unfamiliar feeling drives pinpricks into his heart. The sensation is strange, irritating, and it won’t go away. He hasn’t ever felt this way before. Perhaps this is another emotion to add to the list of new feelings being with you has caused him to experience.

Alhaitham sighs. It’s not like he wasn’t expecting this outcome. He had been far too cold earlier while you had been far too emotional. Ice and fire would never coalesce into a single being.

The feelings that accompany the situation are all a complete mystery to him. Nonetheless, he buries his emotions so that he can focus on finding you, maintaining his logical front in the face of such a precarious situation.

As your lover, he knows you well, so he’s almost entirely sure he knows where you’ve gone. Alhaitham shakes his head. He should have checked right when he entered the house. After all, the couches were right by the door.

Once again, Alhaitham walks blindly through the darkness, taking it step-by-step without so much as a stumble in his gait as he makes his way down a hallway that has long engraved itself in his memories. It’s odd. Alhaitham doesn’t usually go out of his way to become involved in the affairs of others, much less memorize details about their lives. But with you, everything is different. He remembers every single intricate thread of information in the web that forms your identity.

And perhaps that’s why he feels a sense of calm wash over him like cerulean waves on a pristine summer day as he approaches your sleeping form. As he takes in the sight of your silhouette against the backdrop of night, he notices that you appear to be shivering slightly. You don’t have a blanket on.

“Typical [name],” he whispers under his breath. 

Although his words sound rather harsh and slanderous, he utters them with hints of a small smile gracing his face.

Quietly, Alhaitham walks over to a closet in which you keep a multitude of blankets. He takes his time selecting one — after all, he’s in no rush. Eventually, he settles on a velvety blanket that feels soft to the touch. Although Alhaitham can’t exactly picture it in the dark, he knows that it will be sufficient.

So with an insurmountable level of care, he drapes it onto your body. Even though he can be insensitive at times, Alhaitham knows that you most likely want some space for now, so with a gentle ghost of a kiss to your cheek, he leaves the room.

The silence that fills the house rings in DILUC’s ears, shrieking in a manner reminiscent of thousands of crystal glasses shattering into pieces. It’s deafening. The space feels as though it is full of nothing but misery and doubt and yet it’s so, so empty at the same time.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

The sound of a clock’s arms snapping into place in one second intervals is the only sign of life within the building. Every space on the canvas of night is blank as if awaiting wonderous stars to fill the nothingness with inquisitive light. However, the illumination doesn’t come. Tales of galaxies serendipitously brightening worlds are simply idealistic fantasies from the minds of children. In the real world, things seldom end so well without any intervention.

So he decides to slowly get out of bed, leaving the warmth under the covers — a heat that feels far too stifling without you — in order to search for you. But as the abyssal air of night brushes against Diluc’s skin, he feels a shiver run down his spine. Nothing feels right without you by his side. He needs you. Now.

Diluc knows you’re sleeping on the couch. He saw you there when he was going to bed, but at the time, pride and petty emotions whispered words of spite in the depths of his soul, phrases that prompted him to ignore you.

As he navigates the dimly-lit hallways of your shared home, a wave of regret washes over him. If only things hadn’t gotten so heated when you were still immersed in the waking world together. Now you’re asleep, and he’s lost any chance he has of making things right today. If he wants to apologize, then patience will be crucial.

However, at the same time, Diluc wants to check up on you. So when he finally makes his way through the doorway of the living room, his eyes immediately land on your figure, burning with the light of a thousand fires, almost as though they are casting a glow upon your silhouette. The moonlight illuminates you, caressing every strand of your hair and highlighting every dip and curve of your features to make you look absolutely ethereal.

As Diluc approaches you, he notices that you’re barely covered by a thin blanket, and despite the feeble layer of protection, the frigid atmosphere of night seems to permeate your soul. He shakes his head slightly, sighing as he stares at you. No matter how angry he was at you during the day, Diluc can’t just leave you here to freeze.

So with bated breath, he picks you up while you’re still immersed in a universe of dreamy fantasies and carries you to your room. He thanks all his years of training with a claymore for giving him the ability to lift you. Although you’re not on the best of terms, Diluc is sure that you’ll make up once morning comes, and thus, a vibrant new dawn will overlook the horizon for both of you.

Shivers wrack KAEYA’s body as he tosses and turns restlessly in a bed that feels far too large and far too empty for his liking. It’s peculiar. The cold rarely bothers him, yet now, without you by his side, the frigidness of the night air is far too potent for his liking. Tendrils of night creep under the covers overtop him, wrapping around him with an icy fervor, and no matter how hard he tries to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, he can’t.

It’s as though the brighter part of himself has faded away with the radiance of the sun, giving way to an indescribable melancholy that settles into every inch of his being, taking all that he has and becoming all that he is. The cold is so much more unbearable without your warmth, and it doesn’t take long before he realizes that he won’t be able to close his eyes peacefully and drift into a tranquil world full of glacial wonderlands. Instead, he’ll lie awake, alone in your freezing bed — a place that feels far too desolate without your presence.

Hours stretch on and on, twisting and turning in a way that morphs them into a neverending story. As time goes on, the unsettling embers that had once singed the pit of Kaeya’s stomach grow until they blaze brightly, morphing into a raging fire. It’s unbearable, and he knows that he has to do something or else his mind will continue nagging at him for the remainder of the evening.

With cautious movements, he sits up and climbs out of bed. It’s awfully quiet in the house. Usually, flirtatious remarks and passionate displays of affection fill the void within your home, transforming it into a utopia overflowing with wonders. However, at the moment, none of that exists. Perpetual darkness and transient flashes of anxiety are the only things present at the moment. However, he manages to carefully make his way down the hallway without much issue. The creaking of the floorboards is the only noise that cuts through the silence hanging in the air.

As Kaeya enters the living room, his eyes land on a figure lying on the couch. It’s you. He breathes out a sigh, approaching you. Kaeya can see the rising and falling of your chest, hear your gentle breaths, and feel you exhaling once he leans in to examine your face. You look as though you’re at peace — a stark contrast to your earlier demeanour, an act fueled by feelings of rage and spite.

A small smile tugs on the corners of his lips. You look ethereal, although slightly pitiful, your face tinted with the light of the moon. His heart breaks. You appear lonely without his arms wrapped around you. Kaeya feels the urge to pull you into his embrace, hold you tight, protect you from the unknown monsters of the night.

But instead of doing anything, he simply stands there. After your explosive argument, he’s still hesitant to touch you. However, upon closer examinations, Kaeya sees you shaking like a leaf in an intense gale. You’re freezing. And that’s the final straw.

Your boyfriend finally breaks under the weight of your needs and his desires. With steady movements and a fragile touch, he lifts your body just the slightest bit — barely enough for him to climb onto the couch under you. Gradually, he sets you down, laying your head down on his chest. His fingers graze over your features as he eyes you with a gaze full of admiration.

“Sweet dreams, babe. We’ll figure everything out once the sun rises.”

ZHONGLI sighs as he settles atop the plush covers of your shared bed alone. It feels cold — far too frigid for his liking as darkness encroaches, and although he glances out the window in hopes of seeing a single shard of fragmented starlight, he is greeted with nothing more than the sight of an endless abyss devoid of radiance. 

A chill permeates every bone in his body, gnawing at him in a way that serves as a perpetual reminder that you’re not beside him right now. It’s strange. For once, Zhongli feels restless. He’s usually so calm, so composed. But at the moment, he can’t help but worry. 

You’re not here with him. Instead, you’re out in the living room, curled up alone on the couch. Zhongli can picture you in flawless detail — every dip and curve of your troubled face, the shadows that shroud you in a cloak fashioned from midnight, and the rise and fall of your chest as you breathe in and out. He feels a longing that he hasn’t felt in centuries. He wants to be beside you to trace your features, to prevent the glacial fingers of night from creeping down your back, and to feel your breath fanning his face.

However, he knows that no matter how hard he wishes, his hopes and dreams will have to be put on hold for now. In hindsight, it was a bad idea to let you escape into the land of slumber without trying to work things out with you first because now, Zhongli feels as though he won’t get a wink of sleep. At least, not without you by his side.

Eventually, he caves to all the thoughts running through his head; guilt threatens to swallow him whole. So instead of continuing to chase sleep, Zhongli gets out of bed, and although the night air sends a shiver down his spine, the sensation is nothing compared to his need for you. Quietly, he makes his way into your living room, trying to keep his footfalls light out of fear of waking you up. His eyes have long since adjusted to the darkness, so he navigates the house without any real trouble.

When he arrives at his destination, his gaze immediately zones in on a silhouette lying on one of the couches in the room. Although obscured by darkness, he knows that it’s you. Cautiously, he bends down to observe you. Zhongli raises his hand in order to caress your cheeks, his touch feather-light as if he’s afraid that you’ll shatter.

He wants nothing more than to wake you right now and talk things out, but he doesn’t want to disturb your slumber. You seem so peaceful despite everything that happened earlier, and besides, Zhongli is sure that with time, the two of you will make up. Your love for each other is much stronger than any form of false resentment fostered by petty arguments. After all, the illusions created by a deceptive heart are far too easy to dispel with feelings of everlasting passion and affection.

So instead of rousing you from the oneiric realm of dreams, Zhongli sits down on a couch beside the one you’re lying on. Although his mind has not completely settled yet, it feels less perturbed with you by his side. As a master of patience, he decides that he’ll wait for you to wake up. He’ll wait for the first rays of light to grace the face of the earth in order to greet you with a smile and an apology once you open your eyes.

Thank you for reading!

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Objects in Motion

Part 3

Alpha! Billy Russo x Omega! Reader

Hey, I hit 4k followers! That's pretty cool, thank you everyone!

Part 1 // Part 2

A snip taken from Le Printemps, by Eugène Bidau

.

It takes you too long to pick a dress the next morning. There was an issue with all of them, one was too tight around your chest that you could barely breathe, the other had a hole in the sleeve that you hadn’t noticed before.

You'd ended up picking something you hadn't worn in a while- sage green with little flowers on it. 

Halfway to the museum, you'd noticed a small stain on the skirt, that had made you frown.

It wouldn't lift with the wet wipe you'd pulled from your bag, and you'd have to settle for hoping he wouldn't see it.

Your stomach flips at the thought of him.

You'd worn a dress in hopes that this was a date- you didn't understand why you wanted it to be a date so badly.

Okay, that wasn't true, you knew you liked him, even though you shouldn't.

It probably wasn't a date, why would he be interested in dating you?

I haven't had a clear thought since, he'd said, you knew the sentiment, wondering, if he was just like every other Alpha, nice at first and then demanding later.

The other Alphas you'd been with- you try not to shudder- they'd been awful, love bombing until you let your guard down, and then getting angry when you tried to deny them something.

The last one had gotten upset that after only knowing him for two weeks, you didn't want to share your heat with him. 

The scorn he'd shown you when you reinforced your denial instead of caving, it had made you curl up and never want to see another Alpha again.

This Alpha could be worse, he could be cruel, waiting to get you alone to trick you into something you didn't want because you'd stolen his coat. The thought sent an uncomfortable wave of nausea over you.

You see your seedy reflection in the window, everything moving too fast for you to focus on except your own gaze.

You would not be taken advantage of.

.

There’s that too much feeling again, everyone is so busy around you as you stand outside the art museum waiting. You see children running past, and dogs, a delighted scream in the distance that makes your chest feel like it’s on fire with the too much of it all. 

Why did the world have to be so chaotic? Why couldn’t it be warm and quiet and peaceful with hints of cracked pepper and bergamot-

You blink, realising you’d been thinking about the Alpha again.

Maybe this hadn’t been a good idea. To get involved with someone that made you feel this way, like you wanted to give in to his demands. At which point would he ask for too much?

Your shoulders drop, you check the time, quarter to twelve.

You turn to leave.

Someone says your name.

You raise your head to find the Alpha approaching. He’s wearing a beige shirt, with large threads that look almost knitted, paired with black pants and another coat that definitely costs more than you can afford. 

Too late, your stomach twists.

You nod your head in greeting.

“Hi,” You acknowledge shyly, “You’re early.”

“Hello, I thought I told you to call me when you got here?”

Your chest squeezes in fright. Was he already making demands?

You keep his gaze, trying to show him a braver you than you were.

“I only just got here.” You challenge, wondering why it was such a big deal.

He nods, raising a hand to push his hair back. You watch him scan the area before letting out a soft breath.

“Sorry, I just didn’t like the idea of you waiting all alone here.”

Was he worried about you?

“I can manage,” You inform him, “I come here all the time.”

He studies you for a moment, looks as though he wants to say something, but decides against it.

“My apologies,” He turns to stand beside you, “Shall we?”

Your stomach flips at his words and you try not to focus on it, or him, and definitely not his smell.

You begin walking.

You try not to touch him, keeping a respectful distance, not wanting to take any part of him he might not be willing to give.

As you walk through the museum’s outdoor park, a lot of people glance your way. Men and women alike, want to steal a look at the man standing beside you. It makes you feel incredibly conscious of yourself, and you feel like the stain on your skirt grows ten times its size in that time.

You wonder if any of their staring has to do with the assumption that you were a mated pair- the thought makes you shiver- the idea that you would be mated to a person that looks like him.

“Cold? Want my coat?” He offers.

You shake your head, not wanting to touch this Alpha’s coats ever again.

“I’m alright, I’m overheating anyway.” You reply, hoping he didn’t ask any follow up questions. Your period would be upon you soon.

“Poor thing.” He soothes.

It almost makes you stumble.

Your eyes widen and you feel a sharp pang in your stomach, his easy comfort swirling in your hindbrain, begging you to curl up with this man in a cozy nest- not a man, you correct yourself, an Alpha.

You’d only walked a few minutes beside him and already you were thinking about bringing him into your nest? Had you gone insane?

You refuse to think about it, focusing on the trees, and the people passing by with dogs on harnesses leading the way-

“Did you grow up in New York?” He asks, his voice breaking into the whirlwind in your head.

You swallow, shaking your head before looking over at him.

Damn- looking at him was a mistake.

You tell him where you grew up on a shaky breath, asking him to reciprocate.

He smiles, calmly responds that he grew up here, bounced around the city a bit. Something about his response, the tone of his voice, tells you that there’s a key part of the story missing.

You don’t pry, knowing better than to ask intrusive questions.

You swallow, smiling at him politely when he looks at you, still trapped in the moment when he offered you his coat.

You catch a group of women with their eyes on William, and when their gaze falls on you, you watch their collective expressions switch from interest to disdain.

You drop your head, finding that maybe the floor is safer to gaze at than your environment.

What were you doing here with him? Why had you done this? You should have just stayed home where you were safer.

“What do you do for work?” He asks next, breaking into the din in your head. 

You turn to look at him with wide eyes, unsure as to why he was so interested in you.

“Uh- I’m- I work in customer service… somehow. I have no idea how I ended up there.”

“What do you mean?” He asks, the tone of his voice sounds genuinely curious.

You glance his way, giving him a smile.

“I’m not exactly a person that’s comfortable around people. I like… being alone.”

“You don’t like it?”

“Not really, but it’s better than nothing.” You let out a breath, “Can’t complain.” You finish with a mutter.

“Something else you want to do?”

You shake your head sadly. You couldn’t very well say that you’d rather not work at all- it would look like you were after his money.

You think for a moment, trying to make something up, and falling short.

“Honestly, I don’t know, I guess I haven’t found my calling yet.”

He nods in understanding, and it gives you the opportunity to ask about his line of work.

“What about you? What do you do?”

“I'm in security,” he answers, “I handle asset and individual protection, and I even get contracted by the government occasionally.”

You listen intently, nodding along to his words. You'd already looked him up and had some idea of what he did, but it was interesting to hear it from him.

“That sounds really cool. Is there a lot of danger?”

He grins, and abjectly, you feel as though you've asked something stupid.

“It can get dicey sometimes, yeah, especially with protecting people.”

“Right, yeah, sorry, dumb question.” You mutter, looking down.

“I like your questions.” He says lowly, angling his head in your direction so that you hear him.

Like a fledgling omega, your heart skips a damn beat.

His eyes are very dark, you try not to trip as you get caught up in them, pools of obsidian, pulling you into him.

He gazes right back, the soft look in his eyes fills your head with delight, makes you forget about breathing for a few moments.

It's something so primal inside of you, a whisper in your head that this… this alpha, might be special. 

You breathe out a short sigh, inching closer, until you're close enough to breathe him in. You close your eyes, taking a deep, slow breath, bergamot and citrus chasing your anxieties away.

You lean in more, hindbrain in control, desperate for more of his scent, his hand is rough on the back of your neck. 

Your nose almost brushes the scent gland on the side of his neck when someone walking past clears their throat loudly.

You jerk, pulling back, brain restarting as absolute horror fills you.

No way did you almost scent a stranger in a public place.

You make a sound of regret, stepping back, his hand slips from your neck, you glance up at him, the scent of desire heavy in the air.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry.” You vocalise, turning away for a second to catch your breath and calm yourself.

“I wasn't stopping you.” He admits, as you continue to breathe.

This was too much, he had too much of an influence on you. His words make your stomach flip.

It was a very good thing, you decided, that you'd chosen a public place. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what would have happened if you'd been alone. You weren't sure if you had the capacity to stop yourself around him.

He had the hidden ability to somehow switch your brain from rationality to instinct. And that, was the most dangerous thing of all.

“I'm sorry,” you say again, trying not to cry from how overwhelming it is to resist him, “If you- if you want to leave I'll understand.”

“Not at all, omega.” He replies almost instantly, “I want this, don't be sorry.” He reaches out to take your hand in his, giving you a reassuring squeeze.

“Come on.” He guides, taking a step forward to prompt you into walking again.

He doesn't let go of your hand.

.

The sandwich shop has an old feel to it, sitting at the center of the park with lots of seating both indoors and out for dining, the little building looks like it was built at least a decade or two ago. The roof is partially made of glass to allow natural light to spill in, blocked by trees all around except in the direct centre where a large amount of light spills in.

When Billy asks to be seated in the coolest spot, you turn to look at him in surprise, your stomach twisting, heart accelerating as you take in his casual dominance of his environment.

Like other Alphas, he knew how to command a room, though, with him, the assertion was more subtext. He was polite, and yet he always seemed to get what he wanted. It was a dangerous mix, and the implications of what that meant for you scared you a little.

“Is here okay?” He asks, turning to you when the woman at the front guides you to a table.

You blink in surprise. No one had ever-

You study the booth with a little frown, finding it a little too bright for your senses and then your eyes drift two tables down to a darker booth before looking back at him shyly.

“That one?” He asks, already moving.

“Yes please.” You say nicely, following him.

It's nice, you never sit in the booths because it's usually just you when you come here, but the seats are soft, and you can tell the velvety upholstery is clean and has recently been redone.

He slides into the seat opposite to you, his knees bumping yours for a second as he gets settled.

You giggle when they bump you again and he mutters an apology.

“Sorry, it's a little small,” you say, “And you're kind of… not.”

He laughs quietly.

“I'm okay, getting in was the hardest part, and it's not too bad.” You feel his legs extend out on either side of yours, taking up space to get comfortable. 

You can feel your heart beating forcefully as you watch him scan the little paper menu that had been placed on the table before you'd been seated. Finding difficulty in figuring out why exactly he'd taken an interest in you.

“S-so,” you murmur, getting his attention, “You didn't have the coat cleaned?”

His eyes darken, a smile pulling on his lips as he recounts the memory in his head.

“I was curious. I'd deleted the video of you taking it- didn't want to cause unnecessary trouble for you- plus I know that omegas occasionally do things on instinct- so when I got it back, wrapped so tightly, I was… just wondering about you a little.”

You swallow nervously.

“And then?”

You feel the molten heat in his gaze as his eyes roam over you.

“And then I smelled the most delicious scent. It made me desperate, made me lose control of my own thoughts for a couple of minutes. The smell of your heat was wonderful, omega. I knew I had to find you.”

You open your mouth to respond, but your eyes catch movement of a waitress coming your way.

“Hello, my name is Teresa, I'll be your waitress this evening. Are you ready to order?” She rushes out, smiling politely though you notice that her eyes linger on William for a few moments more.

“We're not ready to order yet,” he says, eyes still locked on you, “Can you come back in five minutes?” 

She nods easily, stepping away with a ‘sure thing.’

There's a beat of silence, where you stare down at your menu and read none of the words, head racing with what you know.

“What are you thinking about getting?”

You blink, glancing up at him and then back down to the menu.

“Um, I usually get the turkey on rye, so maybe that.”

“Got any suggestions for me?”

You hum, deep in thought.

“The grilled chicken pesto always smells so delicious, there's some fresh mozzarella in it too. I've never had it, but it's a popular one.”

“You should try it. Mix things up.”

You smile sadly, glancing at the price of the sandwich in question, the fresh mozzarella near triples the price.

“That's okay, I'll stick with my turkey.”

“Don't worry about anything else. If you really want the pesto, get it.”

His eyes are earnest, and you know there's another conversation happening in the subtext of this one. That he was willing to cover the cost, that it was obvious that it was the source of your hesitation.

You swallow, glancing down at the price once again, figuring that one sandwich wouldn't throw him into debt.

A little lump swells in your throat, you wonder if he would expect anything because of this like alphas before. You figure one sandwich did not give him that much leverage over you. You'd done more damage with his coat and he'd overlooked that.

“Okay, I'll have it. What will you get?”

“Steak sandwich.” He answers, with a smile, just as Teresa appears again.

“Ready?” She asks eagerly.

.

“Why did you pick this table?” He asks, studying you.

You glance over at him, having been distracted by some people walking in.

You're beautiful, he squeezes his fists, fighting himself. He wants to provide for you so badly that it tears at him. He can see how defensive you are, how cautious you act sometimes. He knows that you must have had bad encounters with Alphas to be this wary. He wants to learn you, know you better than he knows himself.

“I have a little sensitivity to light.” You respond, absentmindedly, “I can barely see in direct sunlight.”

He inclines his head, noting for later, to avoid anything that would overwhelm you.

“I'm sorry to hear that, sweetheart, it must be so hard to deal with.”

He feels delight fill his body as you give him a wide eyed look, your omega nature appreciating his sympathy to your plights. 

He bites the inside corner of his lip, wanting this sweet, timid omega to be his, very badly.

The urge to have you scent him sharpens, to press your nose to his neck, to have you breathe him in, mix your scents together so that no one would question whether or not you were a mated pair. You'd almost done it earlier, and he hadn't realized how eager he was for it until the moment you'd pulled away.

He had to play his cards right. If he scared you away, he would not get another chance.

.

You talk a lot, about where you grew up, and the schools you went to, and when he tells you about his childhood, you try not to give him any looks of pity, nodding along, eager to listen to everything he has to tell you.

You want to comfort him though, your hands clenching into fists in your lap because you want to reach over and squeeze his hand and tell him you’re sorry but logically you know that you barely know him.

Except that you feel like you’ve known him a very long time. Your face hurts with the amount you’ve smiled, the unfamiliar expression printed onto your face, where you’re usually shy or frightened.

When he asks about you, you feel a little more comfortable revealing personal information. Describing the details of your job so that he understands your day to day work.

“Does it pay well?”

“You know it doesn't.” You grumble sadly, “I would take up a second job if I could, but companies have this rule about how many hours an omega is allowed to work weekly.” You stop talking, waiting to see what stance he was going to take on this. The entire job market was designed to push omegas into the arms of alphas or betas rich enough to take care of them. 

His mouth turns down into a frown.

“They should just pay people liveable wages to begin with. Having a second job would be too much for anyone. At least tell me you get health insurance.”

You make an unsure face.

“For the most part, but there are… big gaps.”

His eyebrows crush together in sympathy.

“You get heat days?”

You nod, taking a few sips of your drink.

“Yeah, they give us three, and I usually have to take two extra sick days because I have longer heats.”

“Wait, they don’t give you days specific to your heat requirements?”

You let out a little awkward laugh.

“No, three heat days, giving more days to some people would be unfair according to them.”

He clicks his tongue, “That must be so hard.” He hums, and something primal sparks inside of you.

Yes, your mind screamed at him, yes alpha, I’m a poor little thing, please soothe me and take care of me and keep me warm and safe and full-

You clear your throat.

“I get by.” You reply.

He shakes his head, deep in thought.

“It’s still not fair.”

.

You let out a slow sigh when you take your first bite of the sandwich.

Eyes closed, you can't believe what you're tasting, that it could be so delicious.

You do your hardest not to take a second bite before finishing the first, determined to savour it.

Across from you, he makes a low hum when he bites into his, and you fight a smile, stomach fluttering, happy that he likes it.

“Maybe you can find another job?” He suggests between bites.

You blink, shoulders dropping.

“I've been trying, it's just not that easy,” You look down at your sandwich, a touch of sadness fills your chest, “Sorry, I don’t mean to complain.”

“It's okay, I want to hear about it.”

You let out a harsh breath, your stomach turning over.

“Why? Because you smelled my heat and decided I was going to be your omega?” You blink, regretting the words as soon as they come out, drawing back into yourself and waiting for him to get angry.

“I'm sorry,” you say when he doesn't immediately speak, “I shouldn’t have- I'm sorry.” You take a shallow breath, feeling the panic grip you tightly.

“Don't apologize, sweetheart, you didn't do anything wrong.”

You don't meet his eyes, still trying to get control of your fears.

You hear movement, and in your peripherals, you watch him slide out of the booth and to a stand. Oh god, was he leaving? You feel your eyes begin to swell with tears. 

You'd done it, successfully chased him away.

Your breath stutters when his plated sandwich slides in beside yours, and finally, you glance up at him.

“May I?” He asks softly, and you automatically comply without thinking, sliding deeper into the booth to give him more space.

He fits himself in, while you grab a napkin to blot at your tears, a little embarrassed now that you realize he wasn't actually leaving.

“S-sorry.” You whisper, trying to apologize for this abundance of emotion. For sure, it would definitely annoy him.

Your breath stutters when you feel the warm press of his palm to your shoulder blade.

“Breathe, omega, everything's alright.”

You suck in a shaky breath, his scent wrapping around you.

He moves slowly in your peripheral, moving his hand to brush the backs of his fingers over your cheek.

You finally look at him when he touches you, the sensation leaving tingles behind.

“One more big breath for me.” He guides, and you obey, feeling your brain respond to his gentleness.

His eyes are warm, chocolate, a feeling of ease settles into the base of your spine.

“When I smelled you on my coat for the first time, I knew I had to find you. But, finally meeting you, and slowly getting to know you, is what makes me want to stay. You're not my omega, and I'm not your alpha… But I'd like to be.”

My alpha?

Your lips part in disbelief, looking into his eyes, feeling hope swell inside of you.

Maybe he would make a good alpha, maybe he would hold you when you were scared, and kiss your cheek every night before falling asleep, maybe he would hold you tightly and talk to you after sex, and not make you feel like a used item to be discarded-

You shudder out a breath.

“I-I'm not interested in finding an alpha right now.” You stutter out, afraid of his response. 

His eyes remain kind, though there's something in them that makes you think that he's sad.

“I understand, sweetheart. I won't bring it up again.” He turns, bringing his sandwich up to his mouth to take another bite.

You follow his lead with wide eyes, surprised that this was all he had to say on the subject.

After a few bites, shoulder brushing his arm every now and again, you can't hold back.

“You're not… mad?”

You hear him exhale slowly.

“I don't think I could ever be mad at you, little one. I like you a lot, and I'm willing to… be as patient as you need me to be.”

Your heart squeezes in your chest.

“And what if it never happens? I don't want to give you false hope.”

To your surprise, he laughs, low and sweet. It brings a smile to your face though you don't know the joke.

“I'm going to have hope whether I want to or not. That's the consequence of wanting.”

Want.

“You want… me?”

“I thought that was obvious.”

“Well, yes, I guess it was, but…” You let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking your head, “I'm sorry, this is so crazy.”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why is it crazy?”

“Bec-” You couldn’t say it out loud.

He turns to you, studying you intently for a moment.

“I mean, well, look at me.” You say softly.

He raises his eyebrows.

“You're lovely.” He murmurs.

You can't help the shy smile that it brings to your face.

.

To no one's surprise, he pays.

You let him, because you were in no position to offer any kind of payment, and he was willing to lose a three thousand dollar coat on a whim. 

When he offers you a ride home, you feel comfortable enough with him to accept, looping your arm around his bicep when he extends his elbow for you to take.

The muscle below is firm, and you simmer with delight at the privilege he gives you.

You look around as you walk together, taking in the scenery around, watching as someone throws a frisbee, and a dalmatian runs to catch it.

“I take it you don’t like me, then.” He says, interrupting your thoughts.

“I do.” You blurt so quickly that your brain doesn’t have time to catch up. There’s something aching in your chest at the thought that he was unlikeable to you.

You take a deep breath, smiling sadly.

“That’s the problem. I like you, and that will cloud my judgement. My past experience has made following my heart almost impossible… and alphas…” You swallow, “Alphas can be scary, and they flip so suddenly sometimes,” you let out a sigh, shaking your head, “It's dangerous to trust an alpha.”

“It hurts me to hear you say that.” 

“I'm sorry.” 

“I'm the one who's sorry. I'm so sorry, and angry that you've had so many bad experiences with alphas. I'm sorry that they made you feel unsafe. I know it doesn't hold much weight right now, but I'd never hurt you.”

You're almost inclined to believe him.

“I guess we'll see.” You say, giving him a meaningful look.

He grins down at you.

“I like the sound of that.”

.

His car is heavy with his scent. You close your eyes, heart racing, breathing in deep lungfuls, feeling your brain go hazy with it.

Your skin gets hypersensitive, the feel of his leather seats brushing your thighs, the way it feels on your fingertips, makes you drunk in a way you've never felt before.

You don't give him your real address, but one that's a block over so that he doesn't see the hovel you really live in. 

It's hard to focus on anything outside of the vehicle, when his engine purrs to life and the sound vibrates your eardrums gently, he makes sure you're buckled in, before starting off.

He doesn't race, takes his time, moves reasonably. It makes you feel safe, settles you. You'd been a little worried he was an aggressive driver, but you had nothing to worry about.

You blink in surprise when he extends his phone to you, unlocked, his hands catching your eye, a work of art you could stare at for hours.

“Pick some music?” He offers.

You nod, fingers brushing his, and you select something soothing, lo-fi, to enjoy.

You get hypnotised by it, the bergamot and notes of citrus, cracked pepper that makes you hum, delighted. If this was what being in his presence was always like, how would you ever leave?

You wanted to press your nose to his neck, breathe him in right from the source, you wanted this scent soaked into your pores until it followed you everywhere. You wanted this smell in your nest, clinging to your things.

You're so needy by the time he pulls over, eyes glassy with want, you notice his hands are gripping his steering tightly.

“Omega,” he says, a slight tremble to his voice, “Do you want to scent me? It'll help you relax.” 

It wouldn't. You knew it from the bottom of your heart, scenting him would only make you want him more. But your hindbrain's in control now, and all you do is nod shakily, fumbling to unbuckle your seat belt.

He covers your hands calmly, doing it for you when you struggle too many times. You look at him shyly when you're both free.

He gives you a warm smile, before tilting his head up, exposing his gland to you.

Your heart pounds in your ears, a thrumming that fills your head, almost too loud as you lean forward, pressing your face to his neck.

He groans, and you reach to fist his shirt tightly in your hands, taking in a deep breath.

This was your alpha, there was no denying it, no other scent had ever took hold of you the way his did, everything else was rotten in comparison, and you were losing grip of your sanity with each passing moment.

You breathe him in, memorizing it, the extra kick, straight from the source, your hindbrain takes full control in these moments, and you're completely helpless to it.

“Alpha.” You sigh into his neck, and you feel him shudder beneath you.

You tilt your head up, lips brushing his gland, he groans loudly, the sound echoing in your ears, drowning out the thrumming of your heart for just a moment.

“That's it, omega," He guides, "Take what you need.”

You whine, if you really took what you needed, he'd already be at home in your nest, ready to make you his.

You tilt your head higher, and he turns to look at you with heated eyes, your noses brush in the quiet of his car.

Someone walking past catches in your peripheral, and you gasp, reeling back, realising where you were.

“S- sorry.” You say, scrambling away, reaching to unlock the door, stepping out and bolting as fast as your legs can carry you, too afraid to look back at him.

It takes you three orgasms in your bed before you begin thinking again.

.

.

.

[butteronabun]

woah, it’s just so easy to be sentimental

– an alhaitham x female reader, fwb au

overview: this conversation with him was eventually coming—it’s alhaitham, after all.

wc: 1.3k

notes: this is a modern au! also, implied smexy times but nothing explicit happens. c:

“What do you even benefit from this?” You finally speak, after two minutes of catching your breath.

You’re currently laying on top of Alhaitham, with the side of your head buried on his enormous chest. He places the plush quilt on your lower body, and his hand stays on your back.

You hear his heartbeat calming down. 

But now, yours is the opposite. Forget about regaining your composure, now that the question is out—a question long overdue by the way—you have no choice but to swallow your anxiety and face it. You finally asked him. 

And this is a good thing, right? At least, even if his answer will probably shatter you just like how Cyno broke Tighnari’s window, the annoying questions in your head can finally shut up. Right? 

Who are you kidding? You feel like you’re going to combust. It's Alhaitham. Who knows what he’s gonna answer? 

“. . .You could actually choose other people than me to be your fuckbuddy, you know. There are far better candidates out there.” You remark, and you feel your chest tighten. Why is this so hard? You feel like breaking down. “Like, like. Um. I don’t know. Maybe that one girl from your Darshan? She seems really nice. Real gorgeous, too.”

Ah, yes. Here it comes. Comparing yourself to other women. Great. Now it’s harder than before. Sooner or later, you’ll have to participate in your own solo 'Try Not To Cry Challenge In Front of The Man Who Literally Folded You in Half Moments Ago.'

You feel Alhaitham’s pec vibrate on your cheek when he replies, “I have my reasons.”

Damn him and his reasons. You need his answers. Unfiltered answers. “Then give me one.”

You tense when his thumb of his hand—that’s still remained on your back—begin to rub through the fabric of the blanket. As your cheeks steam, you shut your eyes tightly from the sensation, wishing that Alhaitham won’t notice. But since he continues his ministrations anyway, it’s safe to conclude that he did. Sometimes, he’s a bastard. ( But you like him, though. And that sucks. Maybe. Maybe not. ) 

He supplies, “Our bodies are already familiar with each other. I’m not interested in getting intimate with another and testing the waters. That takes too much of my time.” 

Right. During your first and second sessions with Alhaitham, he seized the moments and explored what worked for you and what worked for him. What worked for the both of you. 

“Okay.” 

Perhaps, what he has said is already enough for you - but it’s bullshit in your own opinion if you think you’ll only be satisfied with that. You need to know more. Even if it’ll probably lead to your doom. Why can’t you just be relieved for once? Why are you always curious? Ugh, you really have it in you to become one of Vahumana’s top students! “What are the other reasons, then?”

His caressing comes into a halt. “Do you really want to know?

Wow. Now that sure is ominous. You open your eyes at that. The blunt Alhaitham asking you if you want to know? You lift your head from his chest and blink up at him in disbelief. You try to think of other things just so you can ignore the nervous ache in your stomach.

But it’s all pointless! Everything inside this room is all Alhaitham. Everything reminds him of you, because this is his room, for archon’s sake! You sigh heavily, and stare at his irritatingly handsome face. You, sadly, have no choice.

Even if you’ve seen this sight a hundred times already and even up close considering you’ve, ahem, with him, he still makes you flustered. One gaze and you’re out. One gaze and all your clothes are on the floor. 

Not to mention, it’s just so unfair that despite all the activities you’ve both shared, he’s still so attractive. And he’s glowing. How? Why are you so lucky? And out of all the people in the world, how did you end up in his bed?

The curiosity itches.

You poke at his skin repeatedly. “That’s why I’m asking? Why are you being sus, Alhaitham?”

He sends you a flat look. “Do you mean ‘suspicious’?”

You grin playfully at him. It’s hilarious to see him get offended whenever you use some slangs that he finds nonsensical. This is what he gets—you provoking him with words that he thinks are embarrassments to the languages.

Alhaitham exhales through his nose, then resumes on rubbing your back. “Give me a minute. I’m trying to weigh the pros and the cons. Apparently, it’s hard on my part because you are an unpredictable one.”

Your eyes sparkle. Now that the anxiousness has dissipated away, it’s replaced with excitement. “Ooh, this is new!” Alhaitham doesn’t open up much regarding his personal thoughts, so you’re relishing on this. “I’m a challenge to you?”

“Very much so.”

Really? A challenge for the intelligent Alhaitham? You? You chuckle, “Maybe you’re overthinking this!”

“Maybe I am.”

Then, you return to your position once more, content on making his chest a pillow. “So do you think I’m complicated?” 

“Do you want the truth?”

You huff. So many short questions and responses. You’re literally giving him the hint that he has the permission to tell you. “I didn’t reach out to you for nothing. What I like about you is that you’re brutally honest.”

Then, it’s quiet. 

Alhaitham’s thumb is still rubbing on your back. You grow a little worried, wondering why he has stopped answering. You’re about to raise your head again, until his available hand rests on top of it, preventing you from taking a glance at whatever expression he’s making.

“I have read a lot of books that are incredibly complicated—books that make people drop immediately because they find it hard to grasp and comprehend. Fortunately for me, I am not that type of person. I like the challenge, especially if it requires critical thinking. And in return, I gain new knowledge. I gain new lessons.”

Trying to make sense of it all, you hum inquisitively, “So, your point is?”

“So even if you are a mess—” “Hey!” “—Even if there are times that I find it difficult to understand your intentions or your actions, I have no plans of leaving you.”

Your heart performs somersaults. 

Oh. Oh.

All this? Coming from Alhaitham himself?

Impossible. There's just no way he said all that.

The words that you do not want to disclose reveal itselves anyway. “And. . .” You murmur, “. . .if you’re satisfied? W–will you abandon me like your other books that are gathering dust on the top shelves?”

“I’ll give you a chance to reflect on what you’ve just said. Your claims are as false as what the flat earthers fight for.” Alhaitham admonishes.

You are now the one who is rendered speechless. You don’t know if you should laugh again because the flat earthers became an example or if you should just stay silent. You don’t think you can take what he’s about to say next.

The organ inside your ribcage squeezes, and gradually, you quiver. The nervousness makes its grand entrance again.

You detach yourself from his chest once more, and meet his indifferent gaze. It’s expected, but your heart begins to pound when you realize that his eyes seem too intense this time. 

“Alhaitham. . .?”

“For the record, I don’t abandon the books. I read them once a year. And again, don’t compare yourself to bad similes—if you want me to revise it, I will be more than glad to construct one now.” The hand that’s on top of your head slides down, and he grabs your chin with his thumb and index finger. 

( Him and his habit of correcting your figures of speech. He always finds a way to insert this in every conversation, even in the most ridiculous and most serious of scenarios. )

“So,” Alhaitham lowers his eyelids, and you swallow. “Do you get what I’m trying to imply?”

You do.

And you’re not sure if you want to say yes.

Because once you nod or affirm, there’s no turning back from this.

[kanmom51]

Are you sure?! Episode 6 - Sapporo

Lessons in how to start an episode right here.

Jikook being all sentimental.

This is not the first time they were in Sapporo. JM was talking about six or seven years ago, while this came to mind straight away:

Sapporo snow festival February 2016.

One of those probably memorable moments.

This is such a young Jikook, this being one of the first louder JK moments at the time.

I'm sure they created some beautiful memories there. None as beautiful as the ones they created in Tokyo though.

That was theirs, and that is also why we don't get to share any of their Tokyo time in 2024. That is theirs and theirs alone. And yes, I know that JK was working part of their time in Tokyo, but see, if they weren't intending on spending time together, JM could easily have joined him a few days later. But he didn't.

Them sitting there on that sofa and talking about the show, btw, was filmed most likely at the end of their trip, just before leaving for the airport and home.

This is them leaving Sapporo.

28 November 2023. Basically 2 weeks before they enlisted. Them sitting down, at the very end of their last trip before enlistment. Understandably emotions would be heightened. And that trademarked move of JK's...

Moving on to their arrival in Sapporo.

Ok, so as I mentioned in my Jeju posts, I saw a clear shift in JK in Jeju. Lighter. A weight lifted off his shoulders. He was the same here, even more so. But the one I wanted to talk about was JM. Because I felt like here, in Sapporo, is where we see that same shift in him. In CT he was sick but content to be with JK. In Jeju he was happy but still felt a little distant (not from JK but not allowing himself to fully let go), less touchy feely with JK, like he was holding back (with all of the shifty cheeky behaviour that was going on he still felt like he was holding back). But here, he's just all in. He's handsy and touchy feely, and talkative. So so talkative. I won't lie, I was a little shocked. In the best way possible. This was a side of JM we didn't get to see for such a long time. Free. Open. Some of the conversations they had, and some of the things JM talked about, never in 100 years would I have thought he would bring them up on his own accord and share his thoughts with us about them.

This one for example:

JM talking about this so openly. JK's reaction or lack thereof makes me feel like this wasn't the first time the subject came up with the two of them.

Not to say that I don't think that JK was taken aback by JM bringing it up there and then. His initial reaction was not stressed but maybe a little worried?

But with saying that, imo this is not the first time he's heard this. And the maybe a little worry is not about the subject and more about the timing of the convo.

Happiness.

That is what I see.

Even when having this conversation, which is not an easy one to have for the two of them.

Remember how the subject of being married with children came up during Festa 2020? Remember how the two stayed conspicuously silent on the matter?

And yet, JM brought it up there and then, openly, with a smile on his face, his hand not leaving JK's shoulder for one second during this whole convo.

All and all it was just so heartwarming to see them throughout the whole episode. Like I said, they just looked happy. To be there, together, with each other, making new memories to take with them for the next couple of years.

Back to them arriving in Hokkaido, can someone please explain to me why JK found the need to change that camera angle to show us JM's hand on him?

JM well aware and letting go pretty much immediately.

Next we had them in the car/van/whatever it was. Doing this:

Ok then, what to say here?

What indeed?

Truly, I'm seriously asking here, because I'm kind of at a loss for words, lol.

Just another one of those super sus super "nothing platonic going on here" moments.

Kind of like this one.

But the eye squint, that smile, lip pucker and shoulder lift...

This sequence:

Really JK?

Can you be any more obvious?

🤣🤣

Just two dudes going on a dude vacay, right?

And JK once again when hungry... looking for his food is he?

Oh, and last but not least:

This is how 2 people enter a room when they are well aware of the camera in the room:

And this is how 2 people are caught off guard by a candid camera placed in a room they weren't supposed to be entering together...

Oopsy.

Well my friends, that is how you start off an episode. We have emotional, we have cheeky, we have sus as shit, we have happiness and fun, and we have an audience that is now glued to the screen screaming for more!!!

[jezabelle9299]

Morning Sunshine S.R x fem! Reader

Overture- Sleepy Spencer x Morning person fem! Reader. They're sharing a room, and he has no idea how you're so lovely this early.

Cws- Exhaustion

A/N-Wow, before it's even midnight--I'm practically productive. Day 17, I'm very excited. This is shorter, but I do kind of really like this idea.

If you'd like to read the other things I've done this month you can do that here: October Masterlist

**************************

By Day 4 of this practically endless case, morale was at an all time low. The small motel had enough rooms for everyone for the first 3 days of the case, but now it was the weekend and they were nearly packed. And of course Spencer’s luck had him stuck with the woman he couldn’t get out of his head for months now, in some cosmic joke where he’s trapped with quite possibly the love of his life–sleeping four feet away from him in a different bed. 

Of course it wasn’t actually a matter of fate, just a gentle push from JJ.

He stayed behind at the police station until he was sure you’d be asleep, then he muddled back to your shared room thanking every deity he could name that you were fast asleep. Only to thank each of them again at his exhaustion allowing him to just pass out without thinking himself into a panic just by being near you. 

You however were just a little bit overjoyed when Hotch was handing out the second round of room keys. Packing cuter pajamas was no longer an option, but you were still looking forward to Spencer being the last person you saw after this terrible day. If only he was actually there. You honestly assumed he decided to just sleep in Derek’s room to avoid you– a thought that hurt your feelings more than you’d like to admit. 

When Spencer did wake up to the lovely sound of his alarm screaming at him, he opened his eyes and the first thing he saw was you. He knew you were a morning person, but he never expected this. It was barely 5am, and you were bopping around in front of the mirror, headphones on, applying makeup while singing along quietly to yourself. He watched you for a moment, only drawing your attention when he sat up and you caught his reflection.

“Good morning” You looked at him in the mirror, and even though your makeup was only halfway done, he still thought you were utterly gorgeous. His first thought was how beautiful you were, but his exhausted brain couldn’t form a singular other thought yet. But you thought he was adorable, with his hair lovingly disheveled.

“It’s so early.” He knew you had been getting as little sleep as he had, barely 5 hours for 4 days in a row. How on Earth were you awake, up, and nice at this hour?

“You could probably go back to sleep for a few more minutes, we aren’t supposed to meet until 6:30.”

“No it’s ok, I usually like to read and drink my coffee before I have to get back to work. But what are you doing up so early?” He slumped over forwards, burying his face in his hands to rub his eyes. When he finally sat back up, he was reaching around to grab his glasses off the hotel nightstand, and you had to fight to keep from swooning.

“I was going to go get breakfast before we have to meet up with everyone, you can come with me if you want? I saw this place on the way here, it’s only like a block away. You can even bring your book, and I won’t bug you. I know not everyone’s chatty in the morning.”  You turned your attention back to your own reflection, and he hated the assumption that he would just ignore you over breakfast. Even if he hadn’t slept at all, he’d want to talk to you.

“I’ve been told I’m chatty all the time. Well chatty isn’t usually the word used, but that’s the sentiment–I’d love to go to breakfast with you.” 

“I like listening to you talk, for the record. But I’m going to finish up with my makeup while you get ready, ok?” 

“Ok.” He made no move to get ready, only starting to lean back further against the headboard. You had extra time this morning, but not quite that much. 

“That may require getting out of bed.”

“Ok.” He still made no move to get up, and you just laughed. He had to get up eventually, but you’d let him stay there if he felt like it. You could be a few minutes late for the morning briefing.

[thebunnednun]

Toast 2.

Pairing: Pro Hero! Katsuki Bakugou x Prohero!Ex! Reader

Years after you walked out of his life, Katsuki can't stand how his mind won't let you go after all this time.

And after your most recent phone call,

He doesn't think he ever will.

Part one right here.

Inspired by the song: Darling, I

Warning: Heavy angst, post break ups, crying Katsuki, meeting ex's (you).

Wc; 16k I think, I hit the limit so multi parts it is.

“You did WHAT?!” 

Kirishima’s voice echoed through Katsuki’s office like a thunderclap, eyes wide and disbelieving as he stared at his friend.

“Shut it, Shitty Hair!” Katsuki barked, slamming a gauntlet down on the desk with a clang.

But it was too late. Kirishima was already pacing, running his hands through his spiky hair, muttering to himself like he was trying to process the madness.

“You deleted the message?!” he exclaimed, spinning around to face Katsuki. “Do you even know what you’re doing right now?”

Katsuki growled, clenching the edge of the desk like it was the only thing keeping him from combusting.

–

Katsuki hadn’t slept.

He’d spent the night staring at his phone, the glow of the screen burning his retinas as the message to you remained unsent. Something about the damn Wi-Fi, probably, but it didn’t matter. By the time he noticed, the moment was gone. He stared at the unsent message—at those words he’d spent too long overthinking—before gritting his teeth and hitting delete.

“Tch. Waste of time,” he muttered to himself, shoving the phone back in his pocket.

He wasn’t going to bother you with his feelings now that he knew about your grandma. 

The apartment was still and quiet, except for the hum of the freezer. Katsuki found himself standing there, bare feet cold against the floor, staring at its contents. Frozen meals, bottles of water, and the random junk his crew had dumped there over the years. Half a bottle of soy sauce, a freezer-burned loaf of bread, and—he scowled—a frozen action figure Kaminari had shoved in there “for science.”

His fingers dug into the back of the freezer, brushing against a cold plastic binder. He yanked it out, his breath visible in the chilly air as he stared at the thing that had been sitting there for years.

Your grandmother’s will.

The rush of relief was short-lived, quickly replaced by a wave of memories he didn’t ask for. He thought of your old apartment—the one you shared together, the one he still hadn’t been able to let go of.

Instead, he’d thrown money at it, year after year, paying a cleaning service to keep it in perfect condition. It wasn’t just sentiment. At least, that’s what he told himself. It was an investment for your future—a gift he couldn’t bring himself to deliver.

His jaw tightened as he shoved the binder into his work bag.

The reminder of that place, combined with his lack of sleep, his foul mood, and the obligation to meet you later surrounded by the rest of the old gang, had him feeling more grouchy than usual this morning.

–

Kirishima leaned closer, his crimson eyes wide with disbelief. “You deleted the message? Dude, you poured your heart out—like, you never do that. And then you just… erased it?”

Katsuki glared at him, his scowl deepening. “I said shut up, Shitty Hair. It ain’t a big deal.”

“And?” Kirishima repeated incredulously. “Bro, that’s huge!” The larger redhead stood and threw his arms up into the air. 

You’ve been beating yourself up about her for years! And now she reaches out, and you—”

“Shut. Up.” Katsuki growled, his tone low and dangerous. 

Kirishima sighed, shaking his head. “Man, you’re impossible. What even happened last night? You look like you didn’t sleep at all.”

The words hit like a reminder, dragging Katsuki’s mind back to the night before.

–

He hadn’t gone to bed. Couldn’t.

Sleep refused him and Katsuki refused to chase it. 

And everytime he closed his eyes he saw your pretty face. 

The glow of his phone had been his only companion in the dark apartment, your contact pulled up on the screen. His thumb hovered over the call button. Like he didn’t just make plans to see you hours ago. 

When he realized it—that you were only showing up for the will, not to hash things out, maybe not even to stay for the annual get-together, and this will probably be the last time he sees you in person again—

Katsuki stared at it for what felt like forever.

And then he chucked his phone out the bedroom.

“Tch,” he muttered to himself as he slammed the window shut, feeling more irritated than relieved.

By the time he’d made his way back to the kitchen, the freezer’s icy air had jolted him out of his foggy thoughts. His eyes roved over the random collection of junk melting on his floors. Fucking leftovers from Kaminari, ice packs Mina had insisted he’d need “just in case,” and even some weird protein bars from Kirishima. 

But as he reached deeper, his hand brushed something familiar, something colder than the frost itself. A memory surfaced, unbidden.

The apartment you’d shared.

You’d picked it together, your laughter filling the empty space as you debated over paint colors and furniture. It had been more yours than his—cozy and bright, filled with the warmth only you could bring.

When you left, he couldn’t bring himself to do anything with the place. Every year, he wrote a check for a cleaning service, making sure it stayed in perfect condition. Not because he couldn’t let go. Definitely not because he’d been holding onto you all these years. 

‘It was just practical.’ 

That’s what he told himself.

But standing there in the dim light of his kitchen, thumbing the frosty binder that contained your grandmother’s will, the weight of the empty apartment hit him again.

It didn’t matter that he’d kept it spotless or untouched. 

Without you, it was just… a building.

The rest of the night blurred into a mix of pacing, overthinking, and trying not to think about how seeing you again—especially in a public setting with people he also cared about—was already making his mood worse.

‘Fuck me.’

–

And it was fucking raining.

Katsuki glared up at the slate-gray sky, droplets pelting his face like tiny, frigid reminders that the universe had it out for him. 

His boots splashed through a shallow puddle as he stormed into the agency, the freezer bag slung over one shoulder like a weapon. His scowl was etched deeper than usual, and his mood was as dark as the thunderclouds looming above.

The glass doors slid open with a hiss, and he stomped through the lobby, tracking water across the pristine floors. A cheerful voice greeted him from behind the front desk.

“Hey, Good morning, Bakugou—”

Sero didn’t even get to finish his sentence before a frozen packet of soy sauce collided squarely with his face.

“COñO—!” Sero yelped, clutching his forehead as the icy projectile clattered to the floor.

“Shut the fuck up,” Katsuki grumbled, rummaging in the freezer bag for his next target.

The front desk assistant rushed to help Sero back to his feet, their expression a mixture of concern and barely concealed amusement.

“Bakugou, what the hell!” Sero managed, still reeling from the unexpected assault.

Before he could get a response, Denki came barrelling out of the side hallway, his signature grin plastered across his face. 

“Hey, bro, what’s—”

He didn’t get to finish either. 

A bag of frozen fried rice sailed through the air, smacking him in the chest. Denki staggered, his arms flailing, before his foot slid on the now-wet floor.

“Whoa—!”

He went down in a spectacular crash, skidding into the front desk and sending papers and pens flying.

Katsuki’s grin widened, sharp and feral, as he grabbed the next batch of frozen contraband from his bag.

“What’s going on out here?” 

Mina’s voice echoed from down the hall. She rounded the corner, her pink features scrunched in confusion. When her golden eyes locked onto Denki sprawled on the floor and Sero clutching his cheek, her jaw dropped.

“Are we under attack?!” she gasped, her gaze snapping to Katsuki.

But then she saw it—that devilish gleam in his crimson eyes, the way his shoulders shook ever so slightly as if holding back laughter. 

Her instincts kicked in immediately.

“Oh no. Nope. Not today!”

She pivoted on her heel to retreat, and she was actually running pretty fast, but she didn’t make it far.

With deadly precision, Katsuki hurled several frozen chocolate bars, each one finding its mark on her back. Mina yelped and stumbled, clutching at her rear as she muttered something about betrayal.

The commotion had drawn the attention of the interns and staff in the building. They peeked out of offices and around corners, whispering and pointing as the chaos unfolded.

Only one person had yet to face Katsuki’s wrath–

Kirishima.

Speak of the angel, and he shall appear. 

The red-haired hero stood at the end of the hall, balancing a large box of donuts against his hip, his rugged frame outlined by the dull gray light streaming through the agency’s rain-streaked windows. 

Kirishima’s garnet eyes scanned the chaos before him, his expression a mix of calm curiosity and restrained amusement.

The scene was a study in destruction. Mina was crouched over, her back hunched as she fumbled with an unopened chocolate bar. A faint smear of melted chocolate was already on her cheek as she muttered about wasting good snacks under her breath. 

Denki, sprawled on the slick, rain-damp floor, was kicking weakly at the legs of a chair he’d somehow entangled himself with during his fall. His hair was sticking out in wild, damp spikes, and his voice rose with melodramatic flair.

“Attempted murder!” Denki declared, pointing a shaky finger at Katsuki, though his dramatic delivery was undercut by his inability to actually get up. 

“This is what friends get for trying to brighten his day? Betrayal, Sero! Betrayal, I tell you!”

Sero, meanwhile, was leaning heavily on the front desk for support, the soy sauce held firmly to his face like an ice pack. His lips moved rapidly, stringing together curses in Spanish as the desk intern fretted beside him. They kept trying to guide him to a nearby chair, their shoes squeaking against the damp floor as they slipped and stumbled.

“Dios mío, it’s soy sauce! What kind of psycho uses soy sauce as a weapon?!” Sero barked, holding up the offending packet as evidence.

“THAT psycho, who else!”

The intern muttered something about checking the first-aid kit while simultaneously trying to help Denki, whose flailing made the slick floor even harder to navigate. At one point, they nearly toppled into Sero, who shot them a frantic look and muttered, “No, no! You’re not taking me down with him!”

And then there was Katsuki, standing at the center of it all like a storm. His crimson eyes burned with something fierce and unrelenting, and his grin was razor-sharp. The freezer bag slung over his shoulder looked almost deflated now, but his hands were far from empty.

Kirishima took all this in, his gaze inevitably landed on Katsuki, who had frozen mid-motion. His head turned slowly, like a predator catching the scent of something new and tantalizing.

“Kirishima,” he growled, his tone low and ominous.

The redhead raised a single eyebrow, his stance casual as he adjusted the box of donuts against his hip.

For a brief moment, the tension was palpable, and even the air seemed to hum with an unspoken challenge.

“Hey, Bakugou. Rough morning?”

Katsuki didn’t respond. He simply reached into the bag and hurled the remaining contents—

A bundle of frozen salted beef and pork.

Kirishima didn’t flinch. He shifted the donuts slightly, hardening his features just enough to let the freezer bag land in his waiting hand with a dull thud.

The interns whooped and clapped at the smooth catch, some even pulling out their phones to record. Kirishima turned, flashing them his trademark grin as he lifted the box of donuts higher. 

“Hey, everyone, grab some donuts before they’re gone! Sugar makes the rain less miserable, right?”

His easy charm worked like a magnet, pulling the staff’s attention away from Katsuki’s rampage. They crowded around him, laughing and chatting as they snagged pastries and exchanged banter.

Kirishima waited until the hall cleared out before he gently placed the donuts on a nearby desk and turned his attention back to Mina, Sero, and Denki. He crouched to help them to their feet, murmuring soft reassurances and checking for any real damage. 

But Katsuki wasn’t done. He reached into the freezer bag and yanked out a frozen loaf of bread. The corners of his mouth twitched, and for a second, Kirishima thought he might actually laugh.

“Don’t you—” Sero started, but his words were cut off as Katsuki began tearing the loaf apart with the practiced ease of someone who knew how to weaponize anything.

Half-frozen slices became makeshift projectiles, hurtling through the air with alarming precision.

“You absolute lunatic! Pan de muerto! Pan de muerto!” Sero screeched, ducking and covering his head as a slice grazed his shoulder.

“Bakugou, stop!” Denki wailed from the floor, holding up a chair leg like a shield. A slice bounced off it with a dull thwack, landing squarely in his lap.

Meanwhile, Mina, unbothered by the chaos, had already unwrapped her chocolate bar and was munching on it contentedly. “You guys are being so dramatic,” she mumbled through a mouthful of chocolate. 

“It’s literally just bread.”

Another slice whizzed past her head, and she ducked with a startled laugh. “Okay, okay! Maybe it’s explosion murder bread!”

Sero finally managed to pull Denki upright, only for both of them to slip again as more frozen slices hit the floor like ninja stars.

Kirishima sighed, a soft exhale that carried years of understanding for his volatile best friend. With deliberate steps, he approached Katsuki, his hands up in a placating gesture.

“Alright, bro,” Kirishima said, his voice low enough to cut through the commotion but firm enough to command attention. 

“Put the carbs down.”

Katsuki turned his gaze on Kirishima, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, with a grunt, he threw the last slice onto the wet floor and slung his work back over his shoulder.

“Fine,” he muttered, though his scowl didn’t soften.

Kirishima clapped a hand on his shoulder, guiding him toward the hallway. “Good. Now let’s figure out what’s really going on before you turn the agency into a war zone.”

Behind them, the chaos was still unraveling, with Sero clutching his chest like he’d survived a battle, Denki inspecting the bread slice in his lap, and Mina casually offering him a bite of her chocolate.

Once they were situated—Denki sprawled on a couch in Kirishima’s office, Sero nursing an ice pack in a plushy velvet chair, and Mina sitting in the office chair muttering about revenge—he straightened and fixed Katsuki with a knowing look.

“Let’s have a chat, yeah?”

Katsuki groaned, dragging a hand through his damp hair. “The hell for? Ain’t nothin’ to talk about.”

“Uh-huh,” Kirishima said, crossing his arms. “You’ve got your murder face on, Bakugou, and you’ve been picking fights all morning. Spill it.”

Katsuki gritted his teeth, looking anywhere but at Kirishima. “It’s nothin’. Just had a shitty night.”

“Uh-huh,” Kirishima repeated, his tone dripping with skepticism. 

“This wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with her, would it?”

Katsuki froze.

His jaw clenched tightly, the flicker of frustration in his eyes stark against the fluorescent office light. Kirishima’s voice, steady but gentle, cut through the taut silence that hung between them.

Kirishima’s expression softened, his crimson eyes full of concern, though his tone didn’t waver. 

“C’mon, man. Talk to me. You’re not gonna get through this by chucking frozen food at everyone.”

The rain pattered rhythmically against the windowpane, filling the space where neither of them spoke. Its soft cadence was a stark contrast to the tension radiating from Katsuki. The faint hum of the refrigerator buzzed in the background, adding a low hum to the room.

Katsuki exhaled sharply, the sound breaking the stillness like a knife.

The tightness in his shoulders loosened slightly as his grip on the bag slackened, letting it drop onto the desk with a sharp thud. He scrubbed a hand through his messy blond hair, his usual fiery confidence dimmed.

“It’s complicated,” he muttered, his voice gravelly and uncharacteristically quiet.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Kirishima quipped, stepping closer and clapping a firm hand on Katsuki’s shoulder. The gesture wasn’t forceful but grounding, like an anchor tethering him to the present. “But you don’t have to do it alone, you know? So, let’s hear it. What’s going on?”

Katsuki’s crimson eyes flickered, darting away before landing on the floor. His fingers twitched at his sides, his internal battle visible in every muscle of his tense frame. Kirishima didn’t push further, just stood there, steady and patient, his presence solid as ever.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Katsuki felt the faintest urge to let go of the walls he’d so painstakingly built. He thought about your voice—how it had lingered, filling up his whole body and apartment before cutting deeper than he wanted to admit. 

The words teetered on the edge of his tongue, heavy and unresolved.

Katsuki found himself considering it—actually talking about what had been weighing on him since your call.

–

“You didn’t sleep, did you?” 

Kirishima’s voice broke through Katsuki’s thoughts, dragging him back to the present. 

The blond stood by the desk edge, leaning on one hand, his other gripping a water bottle so tightly it crinkled under the pressure. His sharp red eyes darted to his friend briefly before returning to the floor.

Katsuki grunted, unscrewing the cap of the bottle with a flick of his wrist. 

“Don’t need to. I’m fine.” His tone was clipped, defensive, as if the words themselves were meant to ward off further probing.

“Yeah, sure,” Kirishima drawled, his disbelief obvious as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. He strolled over and perched casually on the corner of Katsuki’s desk, tilting his head like he was sizing him up. His lips curled into an easy grin, but his eyes betrayed the concern simmering beneath.

“Because staying up all night thinking about her is totally fine.”

The tension in the room shifted instantly. Katsuki’s glare shot up, blazing and deadly, his jaw tightening like a steel trap. “Keep talkin’, and I’ll make sure you ain’t fine either,” he snapped, his voice low and dangerous. Kirishima laughed, utterly unfazed by the threat. He leaned back on his hands, his grin widening. 

“Whatever you say, bro. But let’s be real—you’ve been waiting for this chance for forever. You’d better not screw it up.”

Katsuki scoffed, turning away to avoid the look on his friend’s face. He hated how easily Kirishima could see through him, but there was no point denying the truth. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair in frustration. His shoulders were tight, every muscle coiled as if bracing for impact.

The thought of seeing you again loomed in his mind like a storm cloud, heavy and unavoidable. No matter how many nights he spent convincing himself it didn’t matter, his chest tightened at the idea of facing you. 

Too much had been left unsaid, and no amount of time could erase the sting of those unresolved feelings.

Because no matter how much he tried to deny it, no matter how much distance he’d put between you, seeing you again wasn’t going to be easy.

Katsuki rolled the water bottle in his hands, the plastic crinkling under his relentless grip. He stared down at it, the weight of Kirishima’s words settling over him like an iron chain. His friend’s casual posture only added fuel to his simmering irritation.

“Don’t act like you know everything,” Katsuki growled, his voice rougher than intended, his throat raw from too much silence and not enough sleep.

Kirishima didn’t budge. If anything, his grin softened, losing its teasing edge. He shifted slightly, planting one foot on the ground while the other swung lazily. “Come on, man. You think I don’t know how you get? You’ve been wound up tighter than a damn spring all week.”

Katsuki grunted in response, unscrewing the cap of the bottle and taking a long drink. The water did nothing to quench the fire burning in his chest. He slammed the bottle down onto the desk, droplets splattering the surface. “I said I’m fine,” he bit out, but the sharpness of his tone felt hollow even to him.

“Yeah, you keep sayin’ that.” Kirishima’s voice dropped an octave, losing its earlier playfulness. His gaze turned steady, unwavering, as he leaned forward slightly. “But we both know it’s bull, Bakugou.”

The blond tensed, the air around him crackling with unspent energy. He turned his back to Kirishima, his hands gripping the desk edge like it might crumble under his touch. His reflection stared back at him in the rain-slicked window, pale and sharp and tired.

“You don’t know anything,” Katsuki muttered, his voice low and bitter.

Kirishima let out a soft sigh, the kind that was more understanding than frustrated. He stood, his broad frame casting a shadow over his friend. “You’re right,” he said, his tone gentler now, less like a challenge and more like an offer. “I don’t know everything. But I know you, Katsuki.”

That struck a chord, and Katsuki’s shoulders stiffened. He didn’t turn around, but his silence spoke volumes.

“You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?” Kirishima’s voice softened even further, barely above a whisper. “Waiting to see her again. To fix whatever the hell’s been eating at you since... since back then.”

Katsuki’s breath hitched, just for a moment, but it was enough for Kirishima to catch it.

“It’s not that simple,” Katsuki muttered, his words clipped, almost choked. He finally turned, his sharp crimson eyes meeting Kirishima’s softer gaze. For a moment, all the walls he’d built around himself seemed thinner, more fragile.

“Nothing with her ever was.”

Kirishima gave a small nod, understanding without prying. He placed a hand on Katsuki’s shoulder, firm but reassuring. “Then don’t make it complicated now. Just... don’t let whatever’s in your head ruin this, okay?”

Katsuki didn’t respond immediately. His jaw worked as he wrestled with his thoughts, the storm behind his eyes churning violently. Finally, he gave a sharp nod, brushing past Kirishima with his usual gruffness.

“Don’t need your pep talk,” he muttered, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair. “I’m not gonna screw this up.”

Kirishima smiled faintly, watching his friend stride toward the door, his steps purposeful despite the weight hanging over him. “You better not, man,” he said softly, more to himself than to Katsuki.

As the door slammed shut behind him, Kirishima’s grin widened slightly. He knew Katsuki wouldn’t admit it, but the fire in his eyes wasn’t just from frustration.

Katsuki didn’t just walk out of the agency—he stormed out, every step heavy and purposeful, the air around him buzzing with his barely contained frustration. His boots pounded against the polished floor, leaving startled interns and bewildered sidekicks in his wake. 

He ignored the calls of his name, the concerned glances from his team.

The agency doors swung open with a force that echoed through the lobby, and he stepped into the rain without a second thought. 

Cold droplets slid down his face and soaked into the hood of his sweatshirt as he pulled it up, shielding himself from the world. With a single motion, he turned off his phone and shoved it deep into his pocket, silencing the incessant buzz of notifications and calls.

For the first time in years, he was unmoored. 

No schedule. 

No expectations. 

No demands. 

Just...him.

The streets blurred as he moved through them, a relentless rhythm carrying him past familiar landmarks. He passed several hero agencies, their glowing signs cutting through the rain-soaked afternoon. One of them bore Midoriya’s name, bright and proud. Another belonged to Shoto, sleek and understated. He barely glanced at them, his focus inward, his thoughts too tangled to untangle.

At the station, he bought a bullet train ticket without even checking the destination, his fingers fumbling with damp bills. He boarded and sank into a window seat, the hum of the train beneath him oddly soothing. 

For once, he didn’t have his earbuds in, no music to drown out the world. 

He didn’t even have his work bag. 

Just the water bottle in his hand.

The train sped forward, the city giving way to fields and mountains, but Katsuki barely noticed. His eyes stayed fixed on the window, though he wasn’t seeing the scenery. He turned the bottle around in his hands, the plastic cool and slightly damp from condensation. His reflection in the glass stared back at him, pale and shadowed under his hood.

He didn’t think. Not consciously. 

Instead, his mind wandered, circling around things he’d tried to ignore—your face, your voice, the weight of everything left unsaid.

By the time the train reached the last stop, he realized how far he’d gone. He stepped off into a station that was quieter, smaller, and felt worlds away from the city’s chaos. Still, he kept moving. A few more trains, then a bus, then one long, solitary walk.

The rain had stopped by the time he reached his destination, leaving the air fresh and heavy with the scent of wet earth. Katsuki stood in front of the door, the building older but familiar. The key in his pocket felt almost foreign as he fished it out, the metal cold against his fingertips.

With a sharp twist, the lock clicked, and Katsuki shouldered the door open. The weight of the past few hours pressed down on him as he stepped inside, his boots thudding loudly against the wooden floor. The sound echoed through the quiet space.

He didn’t bother turning on the lights. Instead, he stomped forward, his presence filling the room like a storm rolling in. The air inside smelled faintly of dust and something floral—maybe from a long-forgotten air freshener.

Everything was just as he’d left it.

The couch, the small table, even the old photo frame on the shelf he hadn’t been able to bring himself to take. The place wasn’t just a building to him—it was a time capsule, a shrine to everything he couldn’t let go of.

Katsuki stood in the middle of the room, breathing heavily, the water bottle still clutched in his hand. The silence pressed against him, but it didn’t feel suffocating. 

It felt... expectant.

His boots scuffed against the worn wooden floor. Dust motes danced in the faint light filtering through the drawn curtains, and the air was thick with the scent of stagnation—like the place had been holding its breath for years, waiting for something to change.

Finally, he sank onto the couch, his head dropping into his hands. The storm inside him hadn’t passed.

Shit was far from over, really. 

The apartment was eerily still, the kind of silence that pressed against your ears until it felt like a scream. 

Downstairs was sparse, the furniture exactly as it had been left the last time it was occupied. A couch, its fabric faded but familiar, faced a small television set atop a scuffed coffee table. A few coasters, still holding the faint stains of coffee cups long since gone cold, rested haphazardly on the surface. Along the walls, shelves held a mix of books and trinkets, some of which hadn’t been touched in years.

Katsuki’s gaze landed on the bookshelf, where a single photo frame sat tilted to the side. He knew exactly what it was without picking it up—a picture of the two of you, your arm slung around his shoulders, his around your waist, both of you grinning like idiots after a night at the ramen spot. 

He hadn’t been able to take it down.

Upstairs was no different. The other units in the building had been empty for years, their echoes a testament to time marching on. The once-lively hum of neighbors going about their lives had long since vanished, leaving only the faint creaks of the structure settling against itself.

Outside, the world was different. 

The neighborhood had transformed, a shift Katsuki had poured his own energy into. The cracked sidewalks had been replaced, the run-down playgrounds refurbished, the community centers bustling with activity again. Charities and outreach programs he’d quietly invested in had brought life back to the area, giving it a second chance. Katsuki wasn’t the type to invest in something unless he saw its potential. 

And yet, even with his vision realized, it wasn’t enough to let him move on.

It was the same reason he couldn’t bring himself to leave this place. It was tied to you, to the life you’d built together before it all fell apart. He had turned down countless relationships since—supermodels, celebrities, other heroes—none of them came close. 

They weren’t you. 

The few times he’d been blindsided into a surprise date, he always left before dessert, feeling the weight of your absence like a physical ache.

The paparazzi didn’t make it any easier. His hatred for them had grown over the years, festering like an untreated wound. They weren’t just vultures to him; they were the embodiment of every failure he couldn’t fix. 

They’d hounded him, his friends, and worst of all, you. 

After the breakup, the tabloids had gone wild, their headlines cruel and invasive.

“High School Sweethearts No More: The Explosive Breakup of Dynamight and Obsidian!”

“Behind Closed Doors: What Really Happened Between Them?”

“Moving on so soon: Pro Hero Obsidian Spotted at High Profile Party with New Beau.”

“Looks like Villains Aren’t The Only People He Beats Up: Pro Hero Obsidian Spotted with Burns After Hero Gala.”

“Diva Drama: Dynamight Recorded Snatching his Arm Away From Model in Distress.”

“Forever the Lone Wolf: Dynamight STILL Single After All These Years.”

That one landed on his desk yesterday morning. 

Every day had brought new speculation, new rumors, and new strangers tearing apart your life for sport. 

He could handle the attacks on himself—he’d grown used to being the target—but the thought of you enduring that same scrutiny twisted his gut in ways even his most brutal battles hadn’t.

He’d tried to protect you. He held one press conference—solo, against the pleading advice of his PR team—and stood in front of the world with his jaw set and his voice steady. Katsuki took full responsibility for the breakup, refusing to let your name get dragged any further. 

He didn’t care what it cost him. 

His warning was clear—

"Anyone who speaks about her again won’t just lose their job—they’ll lose their future. I’ll make sure of it. And trust me, no one’s gonna stop me.”

It wasn’t a threat. 

It was a promise. 

And the sheer force behind his words silenced even the most shameless reporters. Their voices faltered, cameras lowered slightly, as if the weight of his fury had reached through the lenses and pressed against their chests.

But it wasn’t just his actions that had left an impression on everyone.

No, what burned even brighter in his mind was the moment you’d stood up for him. The memory was as vivid as if it had happened yesterday.  The video that went viral, the one where you’d taken on a photographer with a cold, unflinching resolve.

It had been a crowded evening, flashing lights illuminating every corner of the red carpet as you glided toward an award show in a gown that made you look like you’d descended straight from Olympus. Then, it happened—a venomous voice cutting through the murmurs of the crowd.

The man’s insult was vile, a filthy accusation hurled without an ounce of restraint. 

“Happy to finally be free of that abusive asshole?!”

You’d spun around so fast, the sharp movement of your signature braids snapped in the air like a whip. 

The crowd stilled, the atmosphere electric with tension as all eyes turned to you.

Your voice was a razor, cold and sharp, slicing through the noise like a blade. 

“You’re speaking about something you know nothing about. He never laid a hand on me. And as far as I’m concerned, Dynamight’s got more character than all of you and your mothers put together!”

There was no anger in your tone, just a cutting precision that left no room for doubt. You stepped in close, not an ounce of fear in your eyes, towering over the man with an authority that seemed to shrink him where he stood.

The photographer stumbled, the smugness draining from his face as he paled under your gaze. The cameras were relentless, capturing every second as you stared him down.

And then, as quickly as it began, you turned on your heel, walking away without sparing him another glance. Your posture was regal, your back straight, your movements fluid as if you’d never been bothered in the first place. 

It wasn’t just a dismissal—it was a statement. You were untouchable, and he wasn’t worth another second of your time.

The photographer looked like he’d pissed himself on live TV. 

That clip dominated headlines for weeks, but what stuck with Katsuki wasn’t the internet’s reactions or the humiliation painted on the man’s face. 

It was you—the way you defended him without hesitation, the unwavering strength in your voice, and the way you carried yourself like a force of nature.

That moment said more than words ever could. 

You had his back, even when he didn’t ask for it, even when he absolutely didn’t deserve it. 

And that? 

That was something he would never forget.

Katsuki hadn’t known whether to laugh or cry when he saw the clip later. All he remembered was the sudden surge of love and fury that had overwhelmed him, so strong he’d accidentally melted his phone in his hand.

That love hadn’t gone anywhere, no matter how hard he’d tried to bury it. And maybe that was the problem. 

Maybe he couldn’t let go of you because he couldn’t find a way to value himself again after the fallout. 

Every rescue, every award, every headline proclaiming him Japan’s strongest hero felt hollow, like pouring water into a cup with a crack in the bottom. 

Nothing filled the hole you’d left behind.

Sitting now in the apartment, Katsuki felt the weight of it all pressing down on him. The silence screamed louder than any explosion, a constant reminder of everything he’d lost and everything he hadn’t figured out how to reclaim.

The water bottle in his hand crinkled under his grip as he sat there, staring at the room that once felt like home. He was poisoning himself with the past, and deep down, he knew it. 

But knowing and fixing were two different things.

And for once, 

Katsuki wasn’t sure if he could continue living this.

Pushing up from the couch, Katsuki wandered through the apartment, the silence clawing at him with every step. He didn’t dare pull his hood down, as if keeping it up could shield him from the memories flooding the air. His chest felt tight, his throat burning as he stepped into the small dining room and caught sight of the photos hanging on the wall.

The first one stopped him cold—a shot of the two of you at U.A., drenched in sweat and grinning like maniacs after a brutal training session. You were mid-laugh, your arms thrown above your head into the air, and his smirk was cocky, as always. 

Katsuki had forgotten how much you both smiled back then. He reached up and brushed his thumb over the frame, his hand trembling as his vision blurred.

He tried to keep walking, but each photo was like a punch to the gut. There was the one of your first joint mission as sidekicks, your hero suits bright and pristine, your eyes alight with determination. 

Another of a rare quiet moment at the dorms, you leaning against him on the couch, fast asleep while he scowled at whoever had dared to snap the picture. 

Even younger versions of you stared back at him—wide-eyed and full of dreams, utterly unaware of the fallout that would one day shatter it all.

His breath hitched, and he wiped his face roughly with the back of his hand, trying to keep himself together.

He moved to the kitchen next, where the emptiness screamed louder than the silence. The refrigerator was gone—he’d taken that with him when he left, though the small fruit magnets you’d collected were long gone. The counters were bare, and the cupboards hung slightly ajar, revealing their hollowness.

Katsuki’s gaze lingered on the stove, where a faint scorch mark marred the wall above the burners. He remembered the time you’d tried to make dinner and accidentally set the pan on fire. You’d laughed it off, waving away his curses, and somehow managed to salvage the meal. He could almost hear your voice echoing in the empty room, teasing him, grounding him.

He couldn’t stay there any longer. 

His feet carried him upstairs, the weight of the past growing heavier with each step. When he reached his old room, he paused, his hand on the doorframe. 

The air inside felt untouched, frozen in time.

His closet door was slightly ajar, and he could see his old clothes hanging there—his U.A. uniform, worn hoodies, and jackets he hadn’t thought about in years. A stack of textbooks sat on the desk, some still marked with your notes scrawled in the margins, reminders of late nights spent studying together.

Then there were the sweaters. The ones you used to steal. He pulled one from the pile and held it to his face, inhaling deeply even though he knew your scent was long gone. His chest heaved, and a bitter laugh escaped him. He let the sweater drop to the floor and leaned against the door, pressing his forehead to the frame as the tears spilled over.

He didn’t sob—Katsuki Bakugo didn’t sob—but the silent hot tears came all the same, streaking his cheeks and falling heavy onto the floor. He stood there, shaking, as the ache in his chest threatened to consume him.

Finally, he pushed himself upright and made his way down the hallway. Each step felt heavier than the last, his legs leaden as he approached the door at the end.

Your bedroom. 

‘No, the bedroom.’

He hesitated, his hand hovering over the doorknob. His breath came in short, shallow gasps, and he clenched his jaw, willing himself to move. He turned the knob slowly, the creak of the door echoing in the empty hallway.

The room was bare now, the bed stripped, the walls empty. The only sign of you was the faint indentations in the carpet where your furniture had been. 

Yet, Katsuki could see it all so vividly in his mind—the way the sunlight used to stream through the windows in the mornings, casting golden light on your face as you stretched and yawned. The way your laughter used to fill the space, making it feel warmer than any heater ever could.

His eyes flicked to the vanity where your things had once been. The scattered hair ties, the rows of books, even his eyeliner that you’d stolen because, as you’d said, “It’s better than mine, and you don’t even use it for fun!” He chuckled bitterly at the memory, the sound raw and broken.

He stepped further along, his feet dragging as he took it all in. This was where it had all fallen apart, and this was where he kept coming back to remind himself.

To remind himself that you were gone. To remind himself that you weren’t coming back. To remind himself that he didn’t need you, that he was fine.

But as he stood there, the silence screamed the truth he couldn’t escape. He wasn’t fine. He hadn’t been fine since the day you walked out, and no amount of victories or accolades could ever fill the void you left behind.

Katsuki sank to the floor, his back against the wall, and buried his face in his hands. 

For the first time in years, he let himself fall apart.

Katsuki sat on the dusty floor of your old room, his back pressed against the wall. The weight of his emotions clung to him like a wet cloak, heavy and suffocating. His red, swollen eyes tracked the faint streams of dust swirling in the air, illuminated by the dim, gray light filtering through the window. 

The silence was oppressive, broken only by the occasional creak of the old apartment settling.

It scared Katsuki because it screamed the truth. 

He felt hollow. No, worse—he felt small. 

Like a child left behind, staring out the window for someone who wasn’t coming back. His hands rested limply on his knees, and his breathing came in shaky, uneven bursts. He wasn’t used to sitting still, wasn’t used to being in a space where he couldn’t just do something to distract himself from the gnawing ache inside.

The growl of his stomach startled him, low and persistent. Katsuki huffed, the sound a weak shadow of his usual irritation. His lips curled into a half-hearted scowl before his expression crumpled again. 

That heat—the kind that had nothing to do with his Quirk—began to bubble up in his stomach.

Guilt.

It burned low and steady, an ember that refused to die out no matter how much he tried to smother it. It wasn’t just about how he’d treated you, though that alone was enough to make his chest tighten painfully. It was everything. 

The way he lashed out at the people closest to him. The way he snapped at reporters, interns, and sidekicks like a cornered animal. 

The way his anger had turned into a shield, pushing everyone away.

Everyone knew you were a sore subject.

Even the most daring reporters had learned not to mention you to him unless they wanted to get scorched—sometimes literally. Interviewers were warned to stick to a script, and those who didn’t often found themselves on the receiving end of a death glare that could silence an entire room.

And then there was the squad.

Katsuki clenched his fists, the sting of his nails digging into his palms grounding him. He knew they still kept in touch with you. 

It wasn’t hard to figure out.

Denki, with his awkward attempts to avoid the subject, had once likened the situation to a messy divorce. "Like… y’know, when the parents split up, and you don’t know which one to visit for Christmas," he’d joked, only to pale when Katsuki glared daggers at him.

Mina didn’t care. She’d outright told him she wasn’t going to stop being your friend, and he hadn’t had the energy to argue. Sero, ever the peacemaker, danced around the topic like his life depended on it, deflecting with humor or changing the subject entirely.

Katsuki had created this. Another hostile environment, born from his selfishness and entitlement. He had made you his, convinced himself that you always would be, without stopping to think about what you needed. 

And when it all fell apart, he didn’t just lose you. He dragged everyone else into the fallout, leaving them to tiptoe around his anger and his grief.

A fresh wave of tears pricked at his eyes, and Katsuki didn’t fight it this time. His chest heaved as the sobs came, rough and unrelenting.

He leaned forward, clutching his head in his hands as the sound tore from his throat, raw and ugly. The guilt was suffocating, a weight pressing down on him until he thought he might break.

He wasn’t angry anymore. He wasn’t defiant or proud. 

Katsuki was just tired.

Tired of carrying the burden of his mistakes. Tired of pretending he was fine. Tired of the you-shaped hole in his heart that refused to be filled, no matter how many battles he won or accolades he earned.

As the sobs subsided into shaky breaths, Katsuki stared blankly at the floor, his vision blurred by tears. 

The room was quiet again, but it wasn’t the same oppressive silence as before. 

It felt… heavier. 

Like the space itself was bearing witness to his breaking point, holding his grief like a fragile, unspoken truth.

For the first time in years, Katsuki allowed himself to admit it.

He wasn’t okay.

And he didn’t know if he ever would be.

Katsuki’s chest was tight, his breaths ragged as he wiped the last of his tears away with the back of his hand. His body felt like it was made of lead, and every movement was an effort, but somehow, he forced himself to his feet. His legs felt unsteady, his knees weak, but there was no way he could stay here any longer. 

The weight of the apartment, the ghost of the past, was killing him.

With a frustrated growl, Katsuki swiped his phone from the floor, his fingers trembling as he tried to unlock it. He wasn’t looking at it—couldn’t look at it. 

The missed calls, the messages, all the reminders of the life he had built and lost... He turned the key in the lock with a final, deliberate click and slammed the door behind him, the sound of it echoing in the empty street like the final strike of a hammer.

His heartbeat hammered in his ears, but he didn’t stop. 

Katsuki didn’t think. 

He just ran.

The cold afternoon air hit his face like a slap, and for a moment, it felt like he was being pulled into a new world. The weight of his guilt, the crushing sense of failure, was still there, gnawing at him from within, but he refused to let it win. His feet pounded against the pavement, the rhythm of his legs a steady, almost desperate beat that matched the chaotic thoughts running through his mind. 

He ran as though he could outrun the past, outrun the damage he had caused, and for a moment, he didn’t care if he looked insane. 

Katsuki didn’t care who saw him or what anyone thought.

He ran through streets he barely noticed anymore, feet flying over cracks in the pavement, his breath coming in short bursts, but he didn’t slow down. He barely noticed the buildings changing, the neighborhood morphing as he passed it. He’d run this route countless times, but now, it was a blur—a blur of pain and raw need, pulling him forward with a force he couldn’t understand.

His muscles burned, his heart hammered, and still, he pushed forward, faster, harder. He could feel the familiar ache of exhaustion crawling into his bones, but it didn’t matter. The world outside of his mind felt like too much, but his feet knew exactly where to go. 

The house. 

His parents' house.

There was something in the idea of it that drew him, like the pull of something steady, something that had always been there—no matter how chaotic the world around him had become. It was the one place that had never changed, the one place where he could feel something close to peace, even if it wasn’t enough to fill the hole inside of him.

The city was a blur now, the tall buildings giving way to quieter streets, and then, finally, the familiar stretch of pavement that led him to his parents’ home. He didn’t slow down until he was almost there. His legs felt like they might give out, and his lungs screamed for air, but Katsuki didn’t care. His feet carried him forward, each step bringing him closer to something that felt like home.

When he finally reached the house, he stopped only long enough to catch his breath, leaning against the iron gate. The place still looked the same— untouched by the changes that had swept through his life.

He had been here countless times, but now, the weight of it hit him differently. It wasn’t just his parents’ house. It was his last tether, the last place he could go to feel like he wasn’t completely lost.

Katsuki stood there for a moment, staring at the door as his breath came in ragged, gasping pulls. His hands shook as he pushed the gate open, the familiar squeak of the hinges sounding strangely distant in the air. His body was trembling, both from the run and the heavy emotions that still threatened to swallow him whole.

He didn't think about knocking. Didn’t care that it was unplanned. Without another thought, he made his way to the front door, his hand reaching for the handle.

And then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, Katsuki threw open the door with a sharp, deliberate motion and stepped inside.

The quiet of the house hit him like a wave. 

It was warm, comforting. The familiar scent of his mom’s cooking lingered in the air, and the floor creaked under his feet just the way it always had. Katsuki took a step forward, and another, his shoes thudding heavily against the wooden floors.

The house didn’t change. It wasn’t the home he once shared with you, but for some reason, right now, it was enough. 

It was all he could handle.

Katsuki didn’t speak. He didn’t call out for anyone. The house was empty, but it didn’t matter. It was the only place left that he could collapse into and not feel the weight of the world bearing down on him.

He was alone in the quiet. Alone with his thoughts. Finally, in what felt like forever, Katsuki allowed himself to breathe.

Even though everything was broken, even though he wasn’t sure how to fix it, he let himself have this—just this one moment where he didn’t have to be the hero, didn’t have to run, didn’t have to fight.

For just a few moments, he could rest.

The house was silent except for the low hum of the television.

Mitsuki's sharp, watchful gaze was focused on the screen, her usual sharp expression softened in the dim light. Masaru sat beside her, his larger frame relaxed but his eyes narrowed in thought as they both watched the news.

Outside seemed distant, almost irrelevant in this moment, and yet, the quiet tension in the room spoke volumes.

The creak of the door echoed through the hallway as Katsuki stumbled in, his boots sloshing with wet mud, his movements jerky and uncoordinated from the emotional storm he'd been fighting off.

His face was flushed from the run, his cheeks wet with tears that hadn’t quite dried. He had barely entered the room before his mother’s voice sliced through the air.

"Katsuki—" Mitsuki started, her tone already tinged with disapproval as her gaze flicked down at his muddy boots.

But before she could finish, before the words of reprimand could leave her mouth, Katsuki did something neither of them expected.

He fell to his knees in front of her, his usual strength suddenly crumbling. He buried his face against her waist, his body trembling like a leaf in the wind. His arms wrapped around her, clutching her tightly as if she were his lifeline.

Mitsuki gasped, her body freezing for a moment in surprise, her hands still poised mid-air as though to scold him. But she didn’t push him away. No, instead, her arms instinctively found their way around him, cradling her son close as she let out a soft, breathless, 

"Katsuki...?"

She could feel the wetness soaking into her blouse, the warm, trembling weight of him pressing against her. Her heart sank, her mind scrambling to make sense of the unfamiliar situation. Her son, the strong, unyielding Katsuki who had always carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, was crying.

Katsuki never cried.

His body was trembling against hers, and it felt like the world had shifted beneath them. Her strong son, the one who could defeat entire villains with a single explosion, was here, broken and raw.

Mitsuki’s eyes blurred for a moment as she felt something stir inside her chest—a mother’s instinct. She gently pulled his face away from her, her fingers brushing against his wet cheeks.

And there, in the light, she saw it—tears, streaked down his face, his eyes red and raw from the pain he was hiding.

Katsuki’s face crumpled for a moment as his eyes met hers, and the weight of everything he had been carrying seemed to burst through in a single, unrestrained sob. His chest hitched, and the sobs that he had been stifling now seemed impossible to contain. His hands grasped at her blouse, as if afraid she might slip away.

Mitsuki, still in shock, gently cupped his face, her thumbs swiping across his damp skin. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words failed her. Her son, the boy who had always been the protector, the one who never allowed himself to be vulnerable, was here with her now, and she didn’t know what to say.

Before she could find her voice, Masaru, who had been silent the entire time, slowly rose from his seat. 

His large hands came down on Katsuki’s shoulders, his grip steady and reassuring. The older man’s face was unreadable, but there was something heavy in his eyes. He, too, had seen the cracks forming in their son, the breaking apart of someone who had always held everything together.

Without a word, Masaru sank down beside them, his large frame settling against the floor with an almost practiced ease. Mitsuki shifted slightly, making room for her husband as Masaru sat beside her. 

Together, they surrounded their son. Katsuki, in between them, continued to sob, his body wracked with emotions that seemed too much to bear. 

The two of them wrapped their arms around him, holding him tightly, wordlessly, as if trying to keep him from falling apart completely.

It was an embrace, but it was also something more. It was a lifeline, the kind that only family could offer, a shelter from the storm.

Katsuki’s hands clutched at them both, his fingers digging into their shirts as if he might fall into an abyss if they let go. His sobs softened but didn’t stop, and the sound of them filled the room, echoing against the walls as if the house itself understood the weight of the moment.

Mitsuki’s eyes stung with unshed tears, her chest aching as she held her son. She hadn’t expected this—hadn’t realized how badly he had been hurting. All these years, she had watched him grow into the man he was, and yet she had never once seen him break. He had always been the one who broke others. 

But now, here he was, in their arms, vulnerable and human in a way that shook her to her very core.

The silence of the room was filled only by Katsuki’s occasional ragged breath and the soft rustle of clothing as the family clung to each other. Time seemed to stand still as they stayed there, the world outside forgotten, all the noise of the city drowned out by the quiet, simple act of holding one another.

Katsuki’s sobs eventually tapered off, but he didn’t pull away. His body was still, exhausted, as if the release of everything he had been holding back had drained him completely. Mitsuki gently ran her fingers through his hair, trying to comfort him in the only way she knew how.

Masaru, ever the silent protector, simply kept his hands on their son’s back, his presence a steady force that didn’t need words. There was no judgment in his touch, no harsh reprimands, just the quiet strength of a father holding his son, knowing that sometimes, all you could do was be there.

And Katsuki, let himself be held, his walls down, his guard shattered. 

For just a little while, he wasn’t the hero. He wasn’t the explosive force that burned through the world. He was just a son, in his mother’s arms, in his father’s embrace, with nothing but love to shield him from the chaos outside.

Katsuki’s hiccups racked through his chest, short and desperate, like each sob was trying to tear him apart from the inside. His hands trembled as he wiped his eyes, but the tears kept coming, flowing freely down his flushed cheeks.

He tried to speak, but the words got caught in his throat, leaving nothing but a choked sound.

Masaru, ever steady and calm, placed a hand on his son’s back, his voice gentle but firm. "It’s okay, Katsuki. Just breathe. We’re here, you don’t have to say anything." He rubbed his son’s back soothingly, his large hand offering a quiet strength that steadied Katsuki, grounding him in the moment.

Mitsuki, watching with soft eyes, let out a sigh of understanding and slid off the sofa beside Masaru, her hands never leaving Katsuki’s trembling form. She made sure to sit beside him, her touch warm against his shoulder, her comforting presence a safe harbor for him. 

Without a word, she pulled him close, both of them cradling him between them like a fragile piece of glass that might shatter if not held tightly enough.

For what felt like an eternity, the family remained like that—silent, holding one another.

The world outside continued, but here, in this home, time had slowed down to a quiet, comforting crawl. The only sounds were Katsuki’s ragged breathing and the soft rustling of clothes as his parents held him until the weight of his tears began to lessen. The sobs that had wracked his body slowly ebbed away, leaving only an aching, hollow emptiness in their wake.

Katsuki tried again to speak, but his voice cracked, barely above a whisper. "She…" His throat tightened, and he swallowed hard, his chest aching as the name hung in the air, fragile and broken. 

"Her Grandma…" His voice faltered, and the words faded before he could finish them.

Mitsuki’s heart clenched at the sound of her son’s voice, so raw, so vulnerable. She didn’t need to ask what he meant. 

She knew. 

Last night, her own phone had been filled with calls, messages from people in the know about what was going on, and the news had come in sharp, like a slap to the face. She had been planning to call him again, to warn him, but he had come to her first.

She nodded softly, her voice steady as she wiped away the last of his tears. “That’s why I was calling last night, Katsuki. I—I didn’t want you to find out this way…” She gestured toward the television, where the news had already begun to broadcast the breaking story, her hand trembling slightly as she pointed toward the screen.

The words on the news flashed across the screen, each one like a punch to the gut. Katsuki's eyes followed his mother’s hand, still bleary and unfocused, until they locked onto the face that had been burned into his heart. 

Your face, drained of color and swollen, your eyes pink and red from the weight of everything. The image was unrecognizable, not because it wasn’t you, but because it felt like you had been stolen from the world he knew.

You looked so small, so fragile under the weight of your grief, your face framed by your braids and the veil covering you.

The headline flashed at the bottom of the screen: 

"Beloved Hero’s Only Family Member Passes After Battle with Villains."

And then, the part that shattered everything for Katsuki, a second line, written across the screen in red letters:

"Hero Obsidian Hurled Through Building, Unleashes Energy Blast Causing Widespread Blackout."

Katsuki’s breath caught in his chest. He blinked rapidly, trying to focus his vision, to make sense of the fragments of words that were now too real.

Your image on the screen, alone, broken, and wrapped in black, your face hidden behind a veil.

The camera caught you walking out of your agency building, your body trembling with grief, the weight of the world on your shoulders. 

Somehow, you were still standing, still fighting.

But it wasn’t enough.

And that’s when the tears came again, hot and vicious. His vision blurred, and the overwhelming guilt struck him like a wave crashing down, pulling him under. Once again, the bitter truth gnawed at him.

Katsuki had failed you. 

He had failed to protect you, to be there when you needed him most.

His body shook with the sobs that wracked him, harder this time, deeper, as if the very pain he felt was too much for him to hold alone. His parents, still beside him, held him tightly, their arms a wall that wouldn’t break, even as he broke in their grasp.

And in that moment, Katsuki realized the truth of it all.

No matter how strong he became, no matter how many villains he defeated or lives he saved, it was never enough to keep you safe. You had always been his greatest fear, the one thing that could shatter him—and now, here it was, the aftermath of everything that had gone wrong.

The image of you, still grieving, still trying to stand tall despite it all, only dug the knife deeper into his heart. You were hurting. You had always carried the weight of the world on your shoulders, and he had been too blind, too stubborn to see it until it was too late.

"I'm so sorry…" Katsuki choked out, his voice barely audible as he tried to gather what little strength he had left. "I—I'm so fucking sorry." His words were broken, heavy with regret and love, as he clung to the warmth of his parents’ embrace, hoping for something, anything, to make the pain stop. But nothing could.

Once again, the guilt consumed him.

And once again, he wasn’t there to protect you.

As selfish as it was, Katsuki began to cry again.

Each tear that fell felt like a jagged shard carving through his chest, shredding whatever was left of his strength. He was crumbling. Not from the weight of his work or the expectations placed on him, but from the crushing weight of the realization that once again, he had failed. 

His heart felt like it was caught in a vice, pulsing painfully in his ribs as if trying to escape its own confines. It ached for you—aching for the warmth of your presence that had been ripped from him so suddenly, so violently.

The thought of you lying alone, hurting, with no one to hold you the way he should’ve, broke him further. He could barely breathe, each gasp filling his lungs with sharp, cold air. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to grasp something, anything, that could make him feel like he wasn’t losing his mind.

But instead, the only thing he could hear was the sound of your breathing. The same steady, rhythmic pattern from last night, when he spoke to you on the phone, after you’d calmed down, when you’d sounded so calm, so composed, as if nothing was wrong. 

As if she—your grandmother—hadn’t just slipped away from you, and you hadn’t been carrying that weight alone.

Why didn’t you tell him? 

Why hadn’t you said something, anything? 

Katsuki could feel the words clawing their way out of his throat, but they wouldn’t come. He knew, deep down, it wasn’t his right to demand that kind of information from you. 

He was no longer in your life, no longer someone you leaned on. He didn’t have the right to intrude on your grief, to insert himself back into a life he had broken and walked away from. But it didn’t stop the bitterness and the sting of realization from gnawing at his insides.

He should’ve noticed something was wrong. After all, he was always so sharp, so perceptive. The number of things he caught before others did, the number of times he’d read the room and predicted the outcome—he’d prided himself on that, but now? 

Now it was all worthless. It felt like everything he’d ever been good at had betrayed him in the face of you.

Why hadn’t he put it together? Why hadn’t he noticed the small shifts in your behavior over the past few days? Your strained voice on the phone, the way you’d sounded a little more distant, a little more tired. He thought it was just stress, just the weight of everything you carried in your job, but it was something else entirely. 

Why didn’t he see it?

He should’ve known something was wrong. He should’ve realized the moment you had mentioned needing her will. Rita had been getting up there in age, sure, but this—this was something different. 

Something he’d never imagined. He should’ve been paying attention to you, to that. Why didn’t he?

The guilt and confusion raked through him like a storm, and it was all he could do to stop himself from losing all sense of reality in the flood of self-hatred. His fists clenched in his lap, his breathing heavy and erratic. 

He felt so sick, so utterly useless.

But most of all, he felt like a coward. For leaving, for not fighting harder to stay in your life when he should’ve.

He had thought that, maybe, he could pull himself out of it. He thought he could convince himself that what was broken between you two couldn’t be fixed. 

As he sat there, the realization of how he had failed you settling in his chest like concrete, he knew that wasn’t true.

What had he done? 

What had he really done, other than push you away? What had he been doing, for all these years? His mind raced with guilt and regret, and his tears flowed again as his heart continued to tear itself apart.

Maybe, if he had been there. Maybe, if he had just held on a little longer. Maybe, if he’d cared more. 

Maybe, if he hadn’t been so consumed by pride, he would have known. He would’ve known you needed support.

But it was too late. 

Now all he could do was sit here, broken and alone, haunted by a truth he couldn’t undo.

He’d wasted part of his life not fixing things with you. 

Katsuki barely even noticed when he drifted off, the exhaustion from the emotional and physical toll finally overcoming him. His sobs had quieted, his body trembling in the warmth of his parents' embrace.

The familiar scent of his mother's perfume and the steady thrum of his father’s heartbeat against his back had acted as a balm, one he hadn't realized how desperately he needed until now. It wasn’t that he found solace in their arms. 

It was that, for the first time in so long, he didn’t feel alone.

Somehow, though, sleep wasn’t a reprieve. It was more like a hazy lull where time slowed down and nothing mattered, where his mind floated in a space too calm to feel anything but the rawness of his sorrow. He could still hear you in his thoughts, and even in his dreams, you were present.

But when he woke, the aching reality of the day crashed down on him. 

His muscles screamed in protest as he shifted, a dull soreness creeping into every joint. His eyes were swollen, gritty, and felt like they were stuck shut from all the crying. His throat burned from the hours of silent sobs, and the pressure in his head made him feel like it might split open. 

It was a heavy, uncomfortable reminder of how much he had failed himself—and you.

The weight of his stomach growling only reminded him how long it had been since he’d eaten, but his hunger was only a dull throb compared to the anguish gnawing at his heart.

As he slowly opened his eyes, he could see the dim light of early evening filtering through the curtains, casting a pale glow over the room.

Katsuki blinked groggily, trying to make sense of the disorienting moment. His eyes landed first on the familiar fabric of his father’s favorite throw blanket draped over him, the one he always used when he napped on the couch. 

The softness of the fabric was a sharp contrast to the tension in his body. His head rested on one of her cushions—plump and worn, the one she always refused to part with because it was “just the right amount of softness.”

He felt the stirrings of a headache behind his eyes, an ache that seemed to travel deep into his skull, a reminder that the last few hours—however long they had been—had drained him beyond his limits.

His stomach churned again, a wave of discomfort, but it was nothing compared to the pounding in his head and the gnawing pain in his chest.

Fuck a hangover, heartbreak hurt worse. 

As he shifted to sit up, a wave of dizziness swept over him. His body protested, muscles tight and stiff, every inch of him feeling heavy and fatigued from the weight of everything that had happened.

Then, in the slow haze of his waking, it all came crashing back. The rush of memories hit him with the force of a freight train—the sound of your voice on the phone, so calm and composed despite the turmoil beneath. The image of you in black, your grandmother’s funeral probably just hours ago, and the devastating headlines that he had tried so hard to ignore. 

It all spiraled in his mind, flooding his senses.

The realization hit like a slap. His heart skipped a beat, a pang of panic rushing through his chest.

His work bag.

He left it at the office.

The one thing that had mattered in that damn bag was the will. The last piece of your grandmother’s life, the last thread connecting you to everything you had left. And he’d forgotten it, forgotten everything as he ran to his parents’ house, lost in his own grief and guilt.

His chest tightened again, but not with the same ache—it was different now. It was a feeling of responsibility. He couldn’t leave it there. The thought of you, of your grandmother’s final wishes, sitting alone in the office—waiting for him—was unbearable.

Katsuki reached up, brushing his hand over his face, wiping away the remnants of his tears. His fingers were stiff, trembling slightly, but he forced himself to focus. The world felt too loud, too heavy around him.

He turned to look at his parents, still sitting nearby, their concerned eyes watching him closely.

They said nothing, but the silent understanding between them told him everything he needed to know. His mother’s eyes, soft with concern, her hand resting lightly on his knee, and his father, always a quiet force of support, sitting with his arms crossed but not leaving his side.

And in that moment, despite everything, Katsuki knew he couldn’t afford to stay here forever.

With a deep breath, he forced himself to stand, his body still protesting the movement. His knees were weak, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him. Not now.

“Mom… Dad…” His voice was hoarse, strained from all the crying. He could barely get the words out, but he pushed through. “I gotta go back to the office.”

Mitsuki nodded, her gaze soft but worried. “We’ll be here when you get back, Katsu. But take care of yourself. Come eat something.”

He didn’t say anything else. He just turned and walked toward the door, his heart pounding in his chest, and the weight of everything he had to make right threatening to crush him all over again.

“Leaving so soon?”

Katsuki paused mid-step, his hand resting on the doorframe as the familiar voice cut through the heavy silence.

He turned, surprised, to see Kirishima standing there with a steaming bowl of stew in his hands. The bright, cheerful expression on his face was at odds with the heaviness of the moment, but that was Kirishima, always trying to lift the mood, even when things were dark.

The sight of his friend, standing there in the doorway, looking like he just walked out of the kitchen with a bowl of comfort, made something in Katsuki’s chest tighten. He hadn’t realized just how much he needed someone who wasn’t going to back off, someone who wasn’t going to let him just stumble through this mess alone.

“Me too, bro,” Kirishima repeated, a sincere, easy grin on his face as he approached. The warmth from the stew seemed to radiate between them, almost as if the simple gesture was meant to say, you’re not alone, man.

Kirishima extended the bowl toward him, and for a moment, Katsuki just stared at it, the steam rising in little swirls, as if the scent of it could somehow ground him in the reality of the present.

Katsuki shook his head, his breath catching for a split second.

"I… I don’t deserve this." His voice cracked slightly, the raw emotion from earlier threatening to spill over again.

But Kirishima didn’t flinch. Instead, he nudged the bowl a little closer, his eyes full of that unrelenting concern, the kind of concern that never gave up on people. 

“Yeah, you do. You’re my bro, and I’m not gonna let you drown in all this by yourself. We’re here, Katsuki. You ain’t gotta do it alone.”

Katsuki’s chest tightened at the words. He’d always known Kirishima had his back. Hell, Kirishima had always been there when Katsuki was too stubborn to admit he needed help. But hearing it now, in the quiet of the room, after everything that had happened, felt like a weight lifting off him, even if just a little bit.

He took the bowl from Kirishima’s hands, the warmth of the stew sending a little comfort through him. 

“Thanks,” Katsuki muttered, his voice barely a whisper. He wasn’t ready to face the world outside, not yet, but for the first time in a long time, he felt like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as alone in this as he thought.

Kirishima clapped him on the shoulder, the weight of his touch grounding, steadying. “Anytime, bro. We’re in this together.”

Katsuki looked down at the bowl, the steam fogging up his vision, and for a moment, the pain was more bearable. Not gone, but bearable. He wasn’t ready to go back out there and face everything just yet—but with his friends here, maybe he could.

Maybe he could face it, after all.

The evening had been a strange mix of comfort and rawness. The stew had filled Katsuki's stomach, but it hadn’t quite reached the gnawing emptiness in his chest.

Still, he was grateful for the quiet, and for the small moments of peace he’d found with his family, his friend, and the warmth of home. Kirishima’s constant cheer was a strength of their bond, even when Katsuki felt like a shell of himself.

Dinner had come to a close, with Kirishima showering compliments on Mitsuki and Masaru’s cooking, making them both laugh and blush. Katsuki could hardly believe how easily his best friend could turn everything into a good time, even in moments like these. 

It wasn’t the most perfect dinner, but for a moment, everything had felt almost normal again.

Mitsuki, though, seemed determined to make the most of the little reunion. “You boys make sure to call me later, okay?” she said, her voice soft but insistent. “And bring everyone next time. I love these visits.”

Katsuki merely nodded, his throat tight. The familiar warmth of her words felt like a balm, but also reminded him just how much he’d let slip through his fingers.

Masaru was the last to leave the house, and as he pulled his son into a tight hug, it felt almost like he was trying to force the pieces of Katsuki’s broken heart back together. “We’re here, son,” he murmured, a low and steady voice that Katsuki could almost hear echo in his chest. 

“You’ll get through this.”

Katsuki’s throat constricted, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he squeezed his father back, holding onto that connection, that unspoken understanding between them. After a long moment, his father pulled back, giving him one last pat on the back, and it was then that the flood of emotions seemed to subside, just for a moment.

Kirishima, ever the one to break the tension, clapped his hand on Katsuki’s back. “Alright, bro, let’s get outta here.”

The trio said their farewells, and soon, Katsuki was sliding into the passenger seat of Kirishima’s pickup truck. As soon as he did, his eyes landed on the familiar sight of his work bag sitting in the front seat, its strap hanging over the edge. The weight of the bag was a reminder of the responsibilities waiting for him—of the work he still needed to do, despite the emotional rollercoaster he’d just been through.

Without thinking, Katsuki punched Kirishima’s shoulder, a hard and sudden jab. “Next time, you mind your business, idiot,” he muttered, his voice gruff but with a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Kirishima only chuckled, shaking his head, used to the gruff way his best friend expressed his gratitude.

“You’re welcome, bro. That’s what I’m here for,” Kirishima said, leaning over and patting the bag like it was some kind of prized possession. His chuckle rumbled in his chest as he started the truck, the engine roaring to life.

Katsuki could feel his muscles aching again, the tension from earlier creeping back in, but at least he wasn’t alone. Kirishima started driving through the streets, the familiar hum of the engine a background to their shared silence. 

The quiet was different now—still heavy, but with an unspoken understanding. 

Kirishima didn’t press him to talk, knowing full well that Katsuki wasn’t ready for that. Instead, he kept the radio low, just enough to fill the gaps, while the truck bounced over potholes and raced past city lights.

Katsuki leaned his head against the window, watching the world blur by in the dark. As much as he hated to admit it, the warmth of his family’s home, the comfort of Kirishima’s presence, had eased something inside of him. But it didn’t change the fact that the rest of the world, his world, felt like it was still spinning out of control.

He hadn’t done enough, not by a long shot.

The drive into the city was long enough for Katsuki to get lost in his thoughts, to feel the weight of what had happened—and what he still had to do. The city lights flickered as they passed, the skyscrapers standing tall against the skyline. He wanted to feel the pull of duty, of the hero’s path he walked every day, but tonight, it felt like the world had a different, darker gravity.

Kirishima’s truck finally pulled into the parking lot, the familiar hum of the engine dying down. Katsuki rubbed his temples, still feeling the weight of the day’s events pressing against his skull.

“Alright, bro. We’re here. You ready?” Kirishima asked, his tone light, trying to lift the weight again.

Katsuki paused before responding, looking at his work bag, the reminder of the mess he’d left behind at the office. The last thing he wanted to do was go out. Not when everything felt like it was falling apart. But he didn’t have a choice.

“Yeah,” Katsuki said, his voice hoarse but steady. 

“Let’s get this over with.”

The moment Katsuki and Kirishima stepped into the ramen shop, the atmosphere immediately shifted. 

The cozy space, usually filled with the murmur of quiet conversations and the aroma of simmering broth, was alive with the sounds of laughter and friendly chatter. A table near the back was occupied by several of their classmates from Class 1-A, with a few familiar faces from the Bakusquad as well.

Izuku and Todoroki were stationed near the door, almost as if they had been waiting. Both of them looked up the moment the door opened, their expressions lighting up in a mix of surprise and excitement.

"Kachan!" Izuku grinned, his usual energy sparking to life as he waved, his eyes full of that unrelenting warmth. His unruly hair seemed a bit more disheveled than usual, but his bright smile and the slight bounce to his step made it clear that he was just glad to see his friend again, despite everything.

“Bakugou,” Todoroki greeted with his usual cool demeanor, though there was a flicker of something in his eyes—perhaps an understanding, or an acknowledgment of the man standing before him. His tone was calm, almost like a subtle invitation for Katsuki to relax.

The rest of the group was no less enthusiastic. Momo, Jirou, and Kaminari were seated at the table closest to the window, while Sero and Mina had clearly been in the middle of a conversation that paused as soon as Katsuki entered. Kirishima’s arrival with Katsuki made it feel like a small celebration, one that none of them could help but join in on. 

“Hey, you!” Mina cheered, tossing her fortune cookies into the air as if they were confetti. “Glad to see you’re alive, Bakugou!”

“Damn right he is,” Kirishima said with his usual loud and cheerful tone, slapping Bakugou on the back with a grin so wide it seemed like it might break his face. He led them toward the table, giving everyone a moment to make room for them. Katsuki’s gaze briefly flickered across the others, but it wasn’t a long stay. 

His focus was elsewhere, the nagging feeling of being out of place itching at his skin.

Katsuki stood there for a moment, his body stiff, before a grunt slipped out of his throat. “Water. Lemon,” he muttered, his voice flat as he stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the nearest counter. The order was short and to the point, and it seemed like something he was only half-conscious of. The tension in his shoulders never quite let up, the weight of the day still hanging over him like a fog.

Mina’s laughter and Kaminari’s upbeat comments filled the space around him, but Katsuki didn’t fully engage. He turned to Kirishima, who was already talking animatedly with Ochako about something silly. "I’m gonna grab some aspirin," he said, his voice softer than usual as he finally broke away from the group.

Kirishima turned with a bright smile, giving him a thumbs-up. “Gotcha, bro. Be quick. Don’t want you missing out on all the fun!” He didn’t press any further, instead giving his attention back to Ochako, who was clearly just as happy to see everyone hanging out.

But as Katsuki turned to slip out of the shop, he noticed that two figures had quietly followed him. Izuku and Todoroki. The two of them were so alike in that way—always lingering near the door, almost like they had been expecting him to leave.

“Hey,” Izuku greeted again, his voice lower now, but still that familiar warmth in his tone. 

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Todoroki added, his gaze calm but observant. His eyes flickered toward Katsuki for a moment, and then away. “You don’t have to lie about it.”

Katsuki was quick to turn on them, his eyebrows furrowing as he clenched his fists. “Tch, I don’t need you two following me around,” he snapped, but the tone wasn’t as harsh as it could have been. He was tired, and his words didn’t quite hold the usual fire they had.

But they didn’t stop following him.

The trio stepped out into the cool night air, the city lights casting a soft glow on the streets around them. Katsuki didn’t look back at them as they walked in step, his mind elsewhere. His stomach still churned, the pounding ache in his head persistent despite the steady, rhythmic steps of his boots hitting the pavement.

He glanced over at the convenience store across the street. It felt like a million miles away even though it was only a short walk. He had to get the aspirin before anything else. Before his head split open. Before he crumbled to pieces in front of his classmates. He could already feel the emotional weight of everything threatening to pull him under again.

“Should’ve known you’d be the first one to leave,” Izuku chuckled lightly, trying to ease the silence with his usual friendly banter.

Katsuki shot him a side-eye. “Shut up, Midoriya.”

The small moment of back-and-forth was enough to remind him that, even though everything had changed, some things could still feel familiar.

When they reached the store, Katsuki stepped inside, heading straight for the aisle with the pain relief section. He was running on fumes at this point—physically and emotionally drained. The chaos of the past few days was too much. His fingers brushed the cool bottles on the shelf, the ache in his head reminded him that the weight of it all wasn’t over. 

And in that moment, he wasn’t sure when it ever would be.

Izuku and Todoroki were right behind him, the soft padding of their footsteps the only sound accompanying his heavy steps. He didn’t want their company, didn’t want their questions—but they didn’t seem ready to leave him alone.

Izuku's voice broke through the silence, the familiar tone almost like a thread pulling him back to reality. 

"Hey, Bakugou… how’ve you been?"

Katsuki grumbled in response, not looking back at his old friend. He felt the tightness in his chest again, that familiar discomfort from their past exchanges, but this time it was different. This time, it was harder to ignore.

Todoroki, with his usual calm demeanor, didn’t wait for an answer before adding, “When are you going to try therapy? You’ve been shutting it down for a while now."

Katsuki stiffened, his eyes narrowing. He shot Todoroki a glance, one that said everything without him needing to say a word. But Todoroki didn’t flinch. He didn’t expect Katsuki to break. He didn’t expect a miracle. 

Just… a chance.

Katsuki shoved the door to the refrigerator open with a loud clang as he marched towards the back of the store, where the flowers and cards were displayed. He could feel the irritation boiling beneath his skin. He didn’t need therapy. He didn’t need to talk to some stranger. It was all bullshit. Just because it worked for Todoroki didn’t mean it would work for him.

"I don’t believe in that crap," he muttered, not really directing it at anyone in particular, but his voice was sharp, and it cut through the low murmur of the store. "Just because it worked for you, doesn't mean it’s gonna do anything for me."

Izuku, trailing behind him, quietly held out the water and aspirin in his hands, his expression unreadable. But his words were soft, almost like a plea, “We just want to see you out more, Bakugou. Join us again. You don’t have to carry everything by yourself. We’re here. But it’s up to you…”

Katsuki’s throat tightened, and he swiped a bouquet of flowers from the cooler, his fingers brushing the delicate petals. He focused on them, determined not to let his emotions boil over again. ‘Focus,’ he told himself. 

‘Focus on the flowers. Just pick something appropriate for someone in mourning.’

He was barely aware of Todoroki’s calm response as he was absorbed in selecting three tasteful bouquets—nothing too extravagant, but still enough to express sympathy and care. He shoved them into Todoroki’s arms without a word, turning back toward the card display. His mind was spinning, too distracted by the weight of his emotions to truly focus on anything else.

When he reached for the cards, though, he paused. He needed a pen. Shit, he muttered under his breath, glancing around the store. His frustration simmered just below the surface as he clomped his boots toward the front counter, making a sharp turn toward the cashier.

The cheerful voice of the clerk met his ears as he stepped closer to the counter, “Hi there! Can I help you with anything?”

Katsuki was about to ask for a pen when something caught his attention from behind him. A soft voice, quiet and almost hesitant, slipped into his awareness.

“Excuse me…”

He turned instinctively, his gaze falling on the source of the voice—a young girl standing a few feet behind him. She was shorter than him, her figure partially obscured by the shelves of snacks, but there was a noticeable quietness about her. Her face, however, was obscured—hidden by the frontal locks of hair falling into her face despite the strong posture she wore. 

But the way she moved, the way her gaze flickered down before ever making brief contact with his—there was something about her that immediately drew his attention.

He stepped aside, and she gently nudged past him to place a variety of snacks on the counter. The mix of items she piled up was a curious assortment—ranging from sugary treats to fiery, spicy snacks, all with no in-between. Katsuki’s eyes narrowed slightly as he watched the way she handled the snacks, her fingers brushing them carefully before she set them down.

Izuku and Todoroki’s voices faded into the background, muffled as if they were miles away. Katsuki found himself standing still, just watching the girl as she interacted with the cashier. His eyes followed the way her hands hovered over the snacks, how her fingers fumbled for the right ones. 

There was something delicate about it, as if she were caught in her own little world. A brief sense of quiet intrigue filled him, and it was enough to distract him from everything else.

His thoughts swirled, unbidden memories flashing like a series of old film reels—of being close to someone, of having moments like this once. 

But the feeling quickly passed as the cashier gave the girl a cheerful greeting, taking the snacks from the counter. She didn’t speak much, but her presence left a soft ripple in the air, something fleeting.

Katsuki stood by the counter, his irritation simmering just under the surface, but he forced himself to focus on the task at hand. He reached up and cleared his throat, not realizing how tense his shoulders had become. "I need a pen," he grumbled, tapping his fingers on the counter impatiently.

The cashier, a young woman with a soft smile, looked up at him with a polite nod. "Of course, just a moment," she said before turning to grab the pen from behind the counter.

Before she could even hand it to him, a voice interrupted. It was soft, almost tentative, but it hit him like a freight train—suddenly clear and undeniable in the quiet of the store.

“Excuse me, can you wait just a moment?”

Katsuki's head snapped around. His eyes zeroed in on the young girl, the one who had been so quiet earlier. She was turning on her heel, her movements quick and purposeful as she darted toward the back of the store. The unmistakable sound of footsteps—soft, yet swift—echoed in his ears as she disappeared behind the aisle.

Something in Katsuki’s chest tightened. The voice... He didn’t know why, but it fucking caught him. It was like a sudden shift in the air, the kind of thing that made everything else disappear for a split second.

His gaze flickered back to Izuku and Todoroki, who had, strangely, gone silent. Both of their faces were wide-eyed, staring at the spot where the girl had just been. Their expressions were something akin to shock, like they'd seen a ghost. 

They were frozen, not moving a muscle, eyes fixed in disbelief.

Katsuki’s heart began to pound in his chest, the sense of unease growing with each passing second.

And sure enough, when the girl reappeared, clutching a small bouquet of red roses in her hands, Katsuki realized exactly why the air had shifted so drastically.

It was her eyes. That same fucking gaze. She was wearing a casual outfit, and her hair was tucked beneath a beanie—nothing too distinct, but those eyes... Those familiar eyes. He had seen those eyes before, but where? 

‘When?’

The girl glanced over at him, her hand hesitating midair before setting the roses down on the counter next to her. She blinked, as though he hadn’t even realized he was staring at her with such intensity. Her gaze flicked down toward the flowers, but then, just as quickly, it darted back up. There was something in that brief moment, something that clicked in Katsuki’s mind.

It was as though the room had gotten smaller, the air thicker. His thoughts scattered, but one question floated up from the depths of his confusion, demanding an answer.

‘Why do I know those eyes?’

Before he could act on it, Izuku was the first to break the silence, his voice trembling slightly as he leaned in to whisper to Todoroki, who was still staring at the girl, mouth slightly agape.

“H-Haven’t we... seen her before?” Izuku asked, voice barely above a whisper, but it was enough for Katsuki to hear.

Todoroki nodded slowly, his face still frozen in shock.

Katsuki stood at the counter, still tense, his mind whirling as he gripped his thoughts. The roses were bright red, their soft petals clashing with the tightness in his chest. His thoughts were a mess—he was so close to figuring something out, but his head was pounding too hard for him to focus.

As he stared down at the blank card, trying to push the sick feeling of confusion and dread out of his system, he heard the familiar sound of footsteps—light but purposeful—approaching from behind him. He didn’t think much of it at first, too absorbed in his task of selecting the right ones for... your. 

His hand itched to finish the transaction, to do something with the flowers, to make it right somehow. He needed to focus, to ignore the feeling gnawing at the back of his mind.

But then, everything seemed to freeze.

Katsuki’s heart skipped a beat as he heard a soft rustle, followed by a voice—familiar, yet impossible.

Katsuki froze, his breath catching in his throat. Slowly, he turned, his eyes narrowing as the girl came into view again.

Her braids.

Perfectly done, just like yours.

They cascaded down her back, the intricate weave of strands so familiar that Katsuki’s blood ran cold. 

Katuski had seen those braids so many times in his life. He had helped form those braids so many times. He could picture you wearing them—could picture you with your eyes sparkling as you told him to stop acting like a damn fool. You were always so damn confident, so sure of yourself, just like the girl standing before him.

But this girl wasn’t you.

She was taller. Not by much, but enough to make her look like a stranger. At least four inches, maybe more. She wore a UA uniform, the distinctive blazer with the badge pressed into the chest.

Her hair. Those braids. The bright pink and purple dip-dye at the ends.

Katsuki’s mouth went dry. His mind screamed at him, ‘No, this can’t be real. This can’t be happening.’

And yet, there she was, standing in front of him. Her eyes met his, and that was it. The moment she looked at him, everything else fell away. His heart thudded painfully in his chest, as if trying to escape. He knew those eyes. 

He knew that face.

It was yours.

Her face was like a mirror of your own, a reflection that made his heart stop in his chest. 

The curve of her cheeks, soft and gentle, mimicked yours perfectly, as if they had been carved from the same mold. Her lips, sweet and naturally shaped, held the same subtle curve at the corners—just like your own, a detail he'd hadn’t thought about until now. Even her eyebrows arched with the same curves, the same slight tilt that he’d always thought was uniquely yours.

Her forehead, smooth and slightly rounded, matched your own to a T, and her nose—perfectly symmetrical, the bridge just as pronounced as yours—seemed to belong to him just as much as it did to her. Even her chin, that small yet defined curve, was the same, the same gentle dip at the center. 

It was like staring at a ghost, or a memory he never had. 

The identicalness of it all sent a shiver down his spine. He couldn’t escape it—the way she looked so much like you, the same subtle tilt of her head, the same glint in her smile. It was unnerving how her presence seemed to echo your own so perfectly. The way she held herself, her posture, her demeanor—

It was as though he were looking at you through a lens, and that realization crawled under his skin in a way he couldn’t shake.

But it was her eyes. Her eyes that bore into him, the same shade of deep, unwavering intensity, the same fire that had always blazed in his own gaze. It was there, in the way they stared back at him with an uncanny familiarity that both soothed and unsettled him. Her eyes were mirrors, reflections of his very soul, and they pulled him in with an intensity he wasn’t ready for.

The way she looked at him, with that knowing spark, felt like both a warm embrace and a haunting whisper. It was like something from deep within him was calling out to her, to the part of him he didn’t know was missing until now. It both comforted and terrified him—how close she was, how much she was like you, yet still somehow apart.

And that’s what unsettled him the most. She wasn’t just like you. She was you. And somehow, that thought didn’t feel like a connection—it felt like a haunting.

The girl crossed her arms, her posture suddenly all authority. She stood tall against him now, hair no longer in her face, and when she spoke, it was with an ease and confidence that sent a chill down his spine. Her gaze was colder. Sharper. Hardened by something.

“May I fucking help you?” 

Her voice was smooth, but laced with a quiet venom. Gone was the softness he had expected. Instead, she spoke with the kind of command that made everyone in the store pause.

Katsuki couldn’t move. He stood there, frozen, staring at her like some kind of idiot. His breath felt tight in his chest, and the air around him was thick with disbelief.

The cashier looked flustered, fumbling with the register as if she didn’t know what to do in the face of this girl’s sudden authority. Katsuki’s hands clenched into fists, his stomach twisting.

His thoughts were spiraling. His heart was pounding. He could barely process what was happening.

It couldn’t be.

It shouldn’t be.

Those were his eyes. 

For as long as he could remember, that was his red. He knew them. There was no mistaking it. Same as his mother and her father. 

But Katsuki didn’t answer. Instead, he opted to engage in a silent staring contest with the girl before him. 

Izuku stepped forward to break the tension, stepping between Katsuki and the girl. His voice was soft, trying to smooth over the awkwardness that Katsuki had no idea how to handle.

“I’ll pay for your snacks,” Izuku offered, his tone a little too chipper, trying to diffuse the awkwardness in the air.

The girl looked at Izuku for a moment, her gaze flicking from him to Katsuki, before quirking an eyebrow before taking the bag of snacks and the flowers with a simple nod. But before she turned to leave, she gave one last look to Katsuki. 

A look that pierced through him like a jolt of electricity. 

There was something in that look, something so familiar, so haunting, that he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

She walked away, leaving Katsuki standing there like an idiot, completely dazed. He could barely breathe, could barely even think.

“What the hell just happened?” Katsuki grumbled, his voice rough and hoarse.

Todoroki placed a hand on his shoulder, his touch firm but gentle, offering silent support as Katsuki tried to make sense of everything.

“I’m… not sure,” Todoroki said quietly, his voice calm as ever. 

Katsuki didn’t reply, his mind racing. He quickly turned back to the counter, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. He grabbed the card and began to scribble something down in a daze, not caring what it was, just needing to get it out of his head before it exploded.

His heart felt like it was about to explode from his chest. He had to do something. 

Anything.

There was no time for second-guessing. His hands moved with precision, tying together the flowers into one large bouquet. The stems clicked together, and the sight of the carefully assembled flowers seemed to ground him, even as his thoughts scattered in a thousand directions.

He couldn't be hallucinating.

But the way his heart ached, the way his mind kept circling back to that girl, made him wonder if he had finally gone off the deep end. Maybe it was time to see a therapist after all. Maybe his crazy ass needed to be locked up in a padded room.

‘Wait.’ 

Icy-Hot and Deku had seen her, too. That meant she was real. She wasn’t just some twisted figment of his imagination.

‘But how the hell could that be?’

Katsuki clenched his jaw, the muscles in his face tensing as he finished tying the bouquet. The delicate flowers seemed almost out of place in his hands, a reminder of everything that had spiraled out of his control. He pushed the thoughts aside with a sharp exhale, forcing himself to focus. 

Every movement felt robotic as he pressed the bouquet into a bag and paid for everything in a mechanical daze, the cashier’s words drifting over him without registering.

He wasn’t going to let this break him. Not yet.

He had to keep it together. He couldn’t afford to crumble now. Not when he had already come so far.

But as Katsuki stepped out of the store, the cold air hitting his face, his mind kicked into overdrive. The streets buzzed around him, people walking, cars rushing by, oblivious to the storm brewing inside him. He barely noticed any of it.

The questions spiraled, relentless and clawing at him from every angle. What had he missed? What was slipping through his fingers? He couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was shifting, moving faster than he could keep up, and he was losing his grip.

His heart beat harder, thoughts colliding in a tangled mess, but there was one thing he couldn’t deny.

A thought that had already started, and he had no idea how to stop it.

Katsuki’s hand tightened around the bag as he and the candy canes stalked down the street, his breath coming faster, sharper. He wasn’t going to let it break him. He wasn’t. But the knot in his stomach twisted harder with each passing second, and the weight on his chest grew heavier, suffocating.

He needed answers. 

And he needed them now.

Todoroki’s voice cut through the tension, and for a brief moment, Katsuki thought maybe the chill in the air had frozen his thoughts too. His tone was cool, though there was a flicker of curiosity in his gaze.

"Secret love child?" 

Katsuki whipped his head around, his eyes flashing. "WE NEVER HAD KIDS, ICY-HOT!" he growled, his temper flaring up despite himself. People were staring but he didn’t give a shit. 

"And don’t even joke about that."

Izuku, walking alongside them, was muttering to himself so fast that Katsuki swore his lips might fall off. “I mean, how could it even—there’s no way—she looked so much like—what if she—”

Izuku’s eyes were wide, his mind racing through the same thoughts Katsuki had been trying to shove down. But it was too much, and he was too frantic to keep his mouth shut. Maybe his lips would finally fall off from all the mumbling. 

“Dude, calm the fuck down,” Katsuki snapped, turning toward Todoroki as his mind reeled with the implications. 

“You seriously think she’s—what? My kid or some shit?” His voice was harsh, but there was a nervous edge creeping into it, something he couldn’t hide.

Todoroki was calm as ever, unaffected by the rising tension. "It has to be. She looked so much like you. She even had those same eyes—there’s no way it was just a coincidence. Maybe you should’ve asked her. We could’ve—"

"No!" Izuku interrupted, his voice frantic. "We can’t just approach high schoolers without their guardians, what if—what if she was uncomfortable or something, you don’t just ask people questions like that, it’s—"

"I’m not asking shit!" Katsuki cut in sharply, hands curling into fists. "I’m not talking to a goddamn high schooler, I don’t care how she looks. You’re out of your damn minds. I’m just trying to get through the damn day without anything else fucking up"

His chest was tight, his thoughts too loud, and the panic was creeping in again, that feeling of being out of control. He wanted to scream, to punch something, but instead, he just stood there on the pavement, feeling like he was going to crack and die in front of them.

Todoroki didn’t seem to be fazed, though. "But you have to admit, Bakugou—there was something there. Something familiar. Maybe we should’ve just—"

"No!" Katsuki snapped, stepping forward, his frustration bubbling over. "This isn’t a damn soap opera! She’s a random girl with a damn hairstyle and a bouquet of roses, not some—" 

He stopped mid-sentence, a wave of unease washing over him again.

Izuku, meanwhile, was pacing in tiny circles, muttering under his breath. "It just doesn’t make sense. She looked so much like you, but—"

"Okay, enough!" Katsuki snarled, running a hand through his hair. He couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t deal with their incessant back-and-forth while his brain kept spiraling into chaos. "I don’t give a shit how much she looks like me. She’s not mine, got it?" He stopped, his voice quieter now, an edge of defeat in it. 

"She can’t be."

There was a heavy silence between them, the cold air swirling around as they stood there on the sidewalk. Katsuki’s thoughts were still a mess, tangled in confusion and a sense of dread he couldn’t shake. But one thing was clear—whatever was going on, it was only just starting.

He couldn’t escape it. And maybe that was the worst part of all.

Finally, Todoroki broke the silence again, his voice cool as always but with a faint trace of something Katsuki couldn’t quite place. 

“You really should’ve asked her.”

Katsuki’s chest tightened, and he couldn’t tell if it was the tension or the lingering weight of something else. Something more unsettling. But right now, the only thing that mattered was getting away from this, from her—and from whatever the hell was going on in his head.

“Fuck off, Icy-Hot,” he muttered under his breath. “Let’s just go get ramen or something. I can’t do this shit right now.”

Izuku nodded, relieved for the distraction, and as the three of them turned toward the ramen shop, Katsuki couldn’t help but feel like he was walking straight into a storm.

Walk into the storm he did.

As soon as they entered the ramen shop, Katsuki's thoughts still a swirl of confusion and irritation, he almost stumbled into a woman dressed entirely in black, her figure striking and confident in its bold simplicity. Her long braids swayed with the motion of her steps, the rhythmic sway of her hair somehow bringing an unsettling familiarity to him. 

But it wasn’t just the way she moved—it was the sound of her laughter, light and carefree, that stopped him in his tracks.

Katsuki blinked, his heart skipping a beat. His gaze followed the sound of the laughter, and his eyes landed on the white-haired girl she was holding, swinging her effortlessly in the air. The pre teen giggled, her face lighting up with joy. And before he could fully process what he was seeing, something deep inside him—the kind of sensation that came from something primal, something deep in his bones—shifted.

His body froze.

No, it wasn’t just his body—it was his soul. 

Like a force pulling him to the surface after drowning, his heart started beating again, slower, steadier, as if its rhythm was syncing with something outside of him. It was as if he'd found the one missing piece of a puzzle he didn't even know was incomplete. 

His breath hitched for just a second, and that was all it took.

The woman turned, her presence radiating a confidence that matched the fire burning in his chest. She was almost nose to chest with him, so close he could feel the warmth of her body—feel the exact moment when her eyes lifted from the white-haired girl in her arms and locked onto him.

It wasn’t just any glance. It was as if she had known he was there, had been expecting him, even. There was no hesitation, no surprise. Just an immediate recognition, like two forces from opposite ends of the world pulling together.

"You," she breathed, her voice a mix of disbelief and something softer—something that, for a moment, reminded him of a time long ago.

He knew her. 

Katsuki’s heart was pounding in his chest, and it was impossible to ignore the weight of the connection that surged between them, as though the universe had just decided that it was time for them to cross paths once again. His lips parted in disbelief, his eyes searching hers as the world around him seemed to narrow down to just the two of them. 

Everything else—the ramen shop, the chatter of the other patrons—faded away.

Katsuki took a breath, forcing himself to speak even as his mind raced, his thoughts still spinning in a cyclone of emotions and half-formed questions.

"You."

Part 3 now up

Taglist: @elarakive, @thealtofvalleyxdoodles, the-dumpster-fire-of-life, @raendarkfaerie, @bunny-b34r,@v3n7s

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See you soon my loves!!

(｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

[totheblood]

more modern!ellie headcanons

a/n: just a little something... as always AI AUDIOS AT THE END... replies and reblogs are appreciated

ellie is a complete night owl

like you actually are concerned about when she sleeps

if you have an early morning class together she is always running late

or just doesn't show up so you would have to call her and wake her up

"hey baby, what's up i just woke up"

"ellie, class is about to start."

"oh shit, we have class today?"

she would sit next to you in any class you shared and scribble little doodles over to you

or communicate with you through notes

ellie hates going out in public but she loves going with you to do your errands

you're going grocery shopping? ellie is there

you need to find new shoes? she is there

barnes and noble? she would probably be there before you

she likes to do this thing where she will pick out a book for you and you will pick out a book for her and you will sit in the back and spend your day reading together

sometimes she hates the books you pick out for her

"ugh, another colleen hoover book? i gave you a cool book and you give me colleen fucking hoover?"

"little women is cool?"

"i can't believe you just said that."

if you two are out in public together she likes to pretend that the two of you are a married couple

like for example if you're at the cash register and she brings an item up to you and asks if she could get it

"no ellie, put that back."

she would turn to the cashier and say something like "what the wife says, goes... am i right?"

even when she's not with you and she's out drinking at the bar with dina and jesse she would randomly be like, "the wife's not gonna like this one" and take another shot

or when she buys you lingere that is obviously not for her she would be like, "you know what they say, 'happy wife, happy life'"

ellie is really not a social person either

unless she is a few drinks deep which leads us to... drunk!ellie

drunk ellie is soooooo clingy and sentimental

not that she isn't regularly, she's just way more affectionate when drunk

her usual comments would be like, "you're so lucky i love you so much..." or "you're so cute when you're not patronizing me..."

but her drunk? "i think you're the best thing to have happened to me, please never leave me."

"being in love with you is all that matters to me right now... take your clothes off."

she's always touching you in some way if she's drunk

if she's drunk at dinner and she's next to you, her hand in on your thigh or her head is resting on your shoulder

if she's drunk at a party, her hands are on your waist at all times whether she's dancing with you or talking to others

she just wants to be around you

she also can't sleep without you if she's drunk

you would be trying to put her to bed and she would just grab your wrist and mutter a, "please stay"

ellie always orders something you like so you can pick off of her plate

"you want some, baby? i knew you were going to ask for some anyways."

she's always thinking of you

when she sees little trinkets she's like "aw my girlfriend would love this."

or when she sees someone trip in public she's like "i wish my girlfriend was here, i know she'd die laughing."

ellie reads you books so you can sleep

if she knows you had a particularly rough day she will be like, "you okay, babe? want me to read you something?"

and then your climbing in her bed and resting your head in the crook of her neck as she reads to you

she will send you a picture of any animal she sees on the street

loves getting you things because she loves your reaction to gifts

... the two of you study by getting to take an article of clothing off each time you get something right

let's just say you pass most of your tests

ai audios:

extras:

what the wife says, goes

happy wife happy life

the wife's not gonna like this one

you want some baby?

[sweetkpopmusings]

how they feel before they know it's love with seventeen <3

a/n: i'm genuinely obsessed with "i don't understand but i luv u" like i have been listening nonstop since it dropped and i cannot get enough <333 i thought it'd be cute to do a lil post somewhat inspired by the song, so here it is !! i hope you find some comfort in the sweetness of these :,-) pics not mine~

content: fluff, sentimental and cute vibes only | wc: 2.6k | warnings: none really! | pairing: seventeen x gn!reader | requests: open

seungcheol♡‧₊˚

seungcheol, as a leader, knows how to step back and support his members, even when it comes to holding back what he wants to say to let the others continue the excited conversation. with you, it was an entirely different story. it’s not that he ever spoke over you–he would never dream of such a thing–but he talked with you nonstop. there was an effortless exuberance in your conversations because he knew that you’d always listen to him. anything, truly anything, that popped into seungcheol’s head was something he wanted to share with you. sometimes he worried that he was annoying you with his endless chatter, but speaking his mind to you was instinctive. he wanted to share every one of his thoughts and perspectives with you because he wanted you to have all of him. every word he said to you was filled with a deep desire to share himself with you. the vulnerability that flowed through each conversation with you convinced him that maybe, just maybe, there were some important words he had not said to you yet. 

jeonghan♡‧₊˚

jeonghan’s an extremely caring person. everyone knows that about him, but his thoughtfulness towards you went to a whole different level. he thought of you first for everything. everything. he could be on tour and trying a new drink, and the first thing that would pop into his head is “y/n would love this drink.” he did not care that you were hundreds of miles away from him; at that moment, all he would want to do is send you the drink in his hand, so you could try it and then tell him what you think about it. he never realized thought of you constantly until one of his members–probably joshua–pointed out how he always said your name in conversations or bought two of everything just in case. jeonghan would never intentionally try to bring you up, nor was he aware of how he ended up with duplicates of small items. in truth, your name was always on the tip of his tongue, and you were always on his mind. one day soon, something else would be on the tip of his tongue when he said your name. 

joshua♡‧₊˚

joshua tried to play it cool, but he was fascinated by you as soon as he laid eyes on you. the nuances of how you speak, the gestures you make when you’re telling a story, and the way your favorite songs exposed the most important parts of you–shua was obsessed with memorizing each of these things. when something about you was engraved in his mind, he would show you he knew it by teasing you. his imitations or remarks were always spot on, but they clearly came from a place of fondness and attention. he teased you effortlessly with a soft smile and a sparkle in his eyes, something that made you melt each time. he wasn’t aware of the look on his face or the tone of his voice because the adoration came out so naturally when he was with you. if other people were around when shua poked fun at you, it was completely obvious to them what he was actually saying when he flawlessly imitated your facial expressions while telling a funny story from when you two went to a coffee shop over the weekend. even before either of you could put words to it, you could clearly feel the love behind every teasing jab.

junhui♡‧₊˚

junhui is so very unique, and that shines through in the way he treats you. from the moment he met you, he felt a very intense urge to make you smile. he thought about you constantly, and, one day while shopping around in a random city the day before a show, he found a small figurine that reminded him of you. he was so excited to give it to you that he couldn’t stop smiling every time he looked at it. from that point forward, he collected small trinkets and keepsakes for you, as a way to bring you a little burst of joy, even when he was away. sometimes he bought them, and other times he would just hold onto a sticker from a music shop you went to together, giving it to you when he was proud of you for a specific accomplishment. to junhui, it only made sense to write you a little note with your favorite jokes and hide it in your bag for whenever you had a bad day and needed a pick-me-up. through each thoughtful gift, it became clear that he wanted to give you the world, and junhui most certainly would, one snowglobe and ticket stub at a time. 

soonyoung♡‧₊˚

soonyoung always felt strongly about you, so he never really stopped to put an exact word to it. how he felt about and with you was something special, something only shared between you two. it was just the world you lived in together, and, in his mind, there was no reason to analyze his natural state of existence when it felt as wonderful as life did with you in it. one thing, however, that made his head feel light and his stomach feel frenzied was a new habit he developed after he met you. whenever he said something funny, even the smallest comment that made someone else laugh, he immediately had to tell you. he’d call you, send you a voice message, or rush over to you from across the room, just to tell you the story and repeat his silly little joke. soonyoung, from the first time he ever heard you laugh, knew that he needed to see that smile on your face and hear that sound fall from your lips every chance he got. he wasn’t quite sure what to call that. soon enough though, he’d figure out how to express his deepest feeling for you with words that weren’t tied to a punchline.

wonwoo♡‧₊˚

wonwoo always excelled at observing everyone and everything around him. after he met you, however, most of what he saw, heard, tasted, smelled, and touched made him think of you. everywhere he went, something reminded him of you, and he’d always smile. the shoes a stranger on the subway was wearing could be similar to a pair he saw you in the other week. maybe, in the back of the restaurant he ate at with friends after a long day of work, there was someone who ordered a drink he’d ordered for you a hundred times. no matter where he was, what he was doing, or whom he was with, wonwoo found something in his surroundings that tied him back to you. even when you two were together, you’d catch him smiling in a quiet moment. he’d brush it off, say “it’s nothing; i’m just happy to be here,” but, really, he’d want to say “the sound of the car horn made me think of that movie we watched together a few weeks ago, and every time i think of you i feel so comforted and happy, like nothing could ever go wrong.” he’d stay quiet, pondering what it truly meant to always find you in his surroundings regardless of the distance between you, and he’d squeeze your hand a little tighter as he discovered the answer.

jihoon♡‧₊˚

it was extremely easy for jihoon to find inspiration for his music from you. what he didn’t realize was that you left an indelible mark on his taste in music. whenever you two spent time together, he would give you the aux (literal or proverbial) because he was interested in what music made you happy, sad, want to dance, relax, etc. he listened very intently, and it took almost no time at all for the songs you introduced to him to make their way onto his playlists. more than that, he would frequently hum the melodies of songs you showed him as he walked around his place and cleaned. no one would ever point it out to him because they had no way of knowing that the new songs he obsessed over were all tied to you, but, eventually, jihoon realized that all the songs he associated with you were the only ones he ever had stuck in his head now. memories of you permanently embedded songs into his mind, a playlist only for him to listen to in the quiet moments of life. as he wrote lyrics that expressed this occurrence, he understood that it all came down to the fact he could never, and would never, get you out of his head. 

seokmin♡‧₊˚

seokmin was so fond of you, and he naturally expressed that fondness by giving you at least one thing to smile about each day. it started as a way to break the ice during conversations when you first got to know each other. once you two didn’t need icebreakers, the habit stayed, and seokmin’s habit became one of the strongest aspects of your relationship. seokmin never relied on anything fancy; he would send you a wholesome meme in the morning, so you could start your day smiling, or he would show you a funny video clip when you met up for dinner, starting the night off with a hefty dose of laughter. there was a sparkle in his eye when he laughed with you, one that only showed up when he saw your smile. he would be particularly proud if he made you laugh until tears fell or you smiled so big your cheeks hurt. whenever that happened, he would boast to his members, showing them the picture or video while beaming with excitement as he recounted your reaction. alongside his excitement toward your joy existed the fact that he couldn’t rest easy until he knew you had at least a little bit of serotonin in your day. truthfully, he never felt more at peace than when he was the source of that happiness, and he wanted to feel that for as long as humanly possible. 

mingyu♡‧₊˚

mingyu has a real presence. from his height to his goofy personality, people know when mingyu is around. those charms were how he caught your eye, and he always got an energy boost when you were around. as he grew closer to you, more comfortable, mingyu’s behavior revealed an even sweeter side of him. whenever he spoke with you, his voice was soft and careful, every word meant for you only. his looks always held you gently as he soaked up every word that you shared with him. any times jokes or teasing comments wove their way into your conversations, he laughed hard but quietly, just loud enough for you to hear, even leaning closer to you, enclosing the both of you in the joy of the moment. if you had physical contact with each other, mingyu’s touches were as soft as everything else about him. it was never out of the belief that you were fragile. rather, tenderness radiated from mingyu whenever he felt you near, and it enveloped his entire being when he looked at you. mingyu was always caring, always considerate, but his loved ones often commented that they had never seen him so soft before. mingyu knew, without knowing how to explain it quite yet, that you were the difference.

minghao♡‧₊˚

minghao values peace and quiet. life is chaotic for most people, and this was especially true for someone in his line of work. he tried, as best as he could, to create pockets of calm whenever and wherever he could, through meditation or simply waking up to watch the sunrise by himself. searching for that peace grounded him in his toughest times, and he depended on that calmness to get through it all. as he got to know you, searching for that peace became easier. minghao was calmer, knowing you were there, and he instantly relaxed whenever you were beside him. there was not anything specific that you did; you could just look at him, and his whole body would relax, proving just how stressed he had been mere seconds before he laid eyes on you. to minghao, you were the ultimate source of serenity. he never wanted to lean into clichés, but it was true that, even in a crowded room, he would know you were there by the way his heartbeat relaxed into a natural, happy rhythm. it didn’t take long for minghao to notice that you had this effect on him. it also wouldn’t be long before he admitted this, and something just as meaningful, to you.  

seungkwan♡‧₊˚

everyone knows seungkwan is an entertainer through and through. when you two were introduced to each other, he performed as well as he could to keep you laughing, and, unbeknownst to himself, to impress you. as time passed, however, he realized didn’t have to perform in front of you. he felt comfortable enough to be his most authentic self, and he only ever wanted to be his most authentic self with you. he still loved to do bits around you and be dramatic when the moment called for it, but he wanted to show you other sides of him too. for seungkwan, he felt a connection with and appreciation for you that could only be expressed by him letting his guard down. what mattered more than entertaining you was showing you every part of himself as honestly as humanly possible. showing up exactly how he was whenever he was with you was all he could think of because he always wanted to meet you exactly where you were. it wasn’t long after he realized this that his truest feelings toward you came out. it wasn’t something he thought of before he said it; it was something that slipped out when you asked him, “how was your day?” 

hansol♡‧₊˚

hansol’s mind is expansive. his perspectives reflect his astute introspection and deep compassion, and he would never cease to amaze–or entertain–those around him with the thoughts inside his head. to hansol, however, your mind was the most fascinating. he was deeply curious about the things that made up who you are: your hyperfixations, the dreams you had at night, your favorite snack for each time of day, etc. he was endlessly entranced by everything that colored your life. he wanted nothing more than to color his life with them too. this genuine interest meant that hansol’s eyes were filled with childlike wonder whenever you shared something about yourself with him. he committed every minute detail to memory, and he often retold anecdotes from your life during conversations with his friends. even to them, it was endearing to see his delighted laughter as he recounted stories of small social faux pas in your adolescence that became inside jokes between you two now. it was during one of those conversations, while smiling at the thought of you, that hansol started to uncover what influenced his infatuation with all things you.   

chan♡‧₊˚

chan took to you immediately. your personality charmed him, regardless of how charming you thought yourself to be. he couldn’t get enough of the conversations shared between you two, existential or lighthearted. chan genuinely wanted to talk to you as much as humanly possible–without annoying you or taking you away from the other people you cared about–and that’s why he started calling you whenever he was done with his schedules for the day. it could be the hardest practice of the year, but chan, drenched in sweat and barely able to walk, would light up the second you started to say “hello” on the phone. the sound of your voice literally put a pep in his step. he developed a liking to walking home, just so he had an excuse to talk to you for a long time without any interruptions. neither of you needed convincing, however, because everything flowed so seamlessly between you. chan didn’t know exactly how to tell you this, but, with you, he was eager to say even the simplest things until his voice gave out, just so he could keep on talking to you.

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Immortal Danger II

Apollo x wife!Reader

Summary: Despite an extravagant wedding, Apollo is still confronted by those who want to end his marriage

Warning: Smut; Ares, Demeter, and Phobos slander; attempted assault; alcohol consumption and mentions of underage drinking; probably some ancient greek wedding inaccuracies

Word Count: 5k

Part 1 | Masterlist

Apparently a wedding in Vegas wasn’t good enough for my mother because I found myself in her green house mansion on Olympus being lectured and listening to her berate Apollo.

“Dem, we’re all adults here,” my husband tried to reason.

“She isn’t even a century old!” Demeter cried in exasperation.

“Twenty-four is considered an adult on earth,” I offered. “Didn’t Persephone run off with Hades when she was seventeen?”

“Oh don’t even get me started on him!” my mother ranted. “What is with you gods and my daughters?” Apollo opened his mouth but she just held a hand up, silencing him. “No! I don’t want to hear all the perverted things you think about her.”

“When did you become such a prude, Dem? My father told me all about your wild days.” If Apollo could die he’d be trapped in Tartarus right now based on the glare she sent him.

“A ‘Vegas’ wedding officiated by a mortal is not a real wedding. I won’t have you two living in sin.”

“Well we’ve been ‘sin-’”

I clamped a hand over Apollo’s mouth, silencing him. “Firstly, with all due respect… Mother, you have the wrong religion there.”

“Well we don’t have set moral codes like Christians do!” she cried. “Urgh you’re both so infuriating. You two are going to have a proper, traditional wedding. You,” she looked pointedly at me, “will be staying here until your wedding because I don’t want you,” she turned her glare to Apollo, “defiling her more than you already have.”

I shared a glance with Apollo who appeared to share my sentiments. “Fine,” I agreed. “As long as the wedding occurs within a month.”

“And after you are married you will stay here. Apollo can visit you but that’s it. No spending nights at his home or going out to sneak around,” Demeter insisted.

“Mother!” I immediately chastised.

“Demeter!” my now fiancé cried simultaneously. “That’s unreasonable. I know you think of her as your baby and you’re afraid you’re going to lose her like Persephone but she’s my wife. She’ll be my wife again. You can’t treat her like an untrustworthy teenager. Besides, you know as well as I do that according to tradition, the marriage isn’t legitimate unless we live together.”

“Well then you may as not get married at all!” Demeter offered sarcastically.

“Mother, it’s not as if I’m disappearing or we’re just fooling around. I love him,” I professed, looking back at Apollo with a smile.

He returned it before standing up to confront my mom. “Y/N’s right, we’re not just fooling around. After all, we’re already married.

She only rolled her eyes before giving a sigh of defeat. “Be ready for the wedding. Hera, Aphrodite, and I will be planning it,” she said with an accusatory finger before disappearing.

~

Two weeks later and my mother had managed to pull together a wedding she deemed acceptable. She had wanted to hold it a century from now but I forced her hand. But in preparations for the wedding, I met all the gods. Except for Ares they were all excited for me. Even Aphrodite who had reprimanded Ares when he got aggressive.

“You know, it’s not too late to join the Hunt,” Artemis offered again as she braided my hair back for the wedding. Ever since we met she has been trying to convince me to dump her brother and swear him and all other men off for forever.

“Artemis!” Aphrodite whined from across the room. “Stop putting ideas in her head. Why do you hate true love?”

“Don’t you have a husband that isn’t Ares?” Artemis quipped.

“That’s different,” she claimed, standing up from the sofa she was lounging on. “That was not true love.”

“And don’t you have dozens of children that are neither Hephaestus’ nor Ares’?”

“Ugh what do you know?” Aphrodite scoffed. She stood on front of me, stooping down to make eye contact. “Y/N, don’t listen to her. You and Apollo are meant to be, I know it. And running around in the woods for eternity won’t bring you joy. Do you really want to camp with a bunch of 12 year old girls for the rest of eternity? It’d be like… well… being stuck at Camp Half-Blood for all eternity.”

I chuckled, appreciating both the goddesses’ efforts. “Thanks for the assurance Aphrodite and thanks for the offer Artemis. If he pisses me off enough in like 500 years then I may take you up on your offer.”

Hera then entered wearing a traditional chiton. “Today’s the gamos!” she said excitedly as she entered. She seemed shockingly excited considering I was marrying her husband’s bastard. “Aphrodite, put a beauty charm on her and then get her in her dress.” She then left after barking orders much like my mother.

Both goddesses complied and soon enough I was dressed in an extravagant chiton, decorated in gold, and with a lace veil over my face. They led me to an enormous dining hall decorated in white and gold, the gorgeous ceiling enchanted to reflect the sky outside, depicting the stars and the moon. As I was looking around in awe, I caught Apollo’s smile. Upon noticing my attention was directed at him, he raised his glass to me which I recognized as his attempt to compliment me.

According to Athenian tradition, the bride wasn’t supposed to have contact with the groom until the unveiling ceremony but there was a feast beforehand.

I was sat where Apollo couldn’t see me so I was fortunately allowed to eat. On my plate was a square of ambrosia and with just a wave of my hand it turned into a proper wedding dish.

As I was chatting with Artemis and some of her hunters—who wanted to sit as far from the male guests as possible—Hera and Demeter came flitting up next to me. “It’s time for the unveiling ceremony!” Hera gushed.

“It’s not too late to back out,” Demeter offered again. “You don’t have to swear things off with Apollo but you can at least postpone,” she pleaded hopefully.

I looked up at her sympathetically. I knew she just wanted to have her daughter to herself but I couldn’t help but be reminded of the half-blood daughters that were never this important to her. “Mother, I want this,” I informed her earnestly again. “I love Apollo and he loves me too. I’m ready to begin my immortal life with him.”

“Demeter, I know there are a lot of feelings here but we have to go,” Hera tried to calm her sister before flipping the veil back over my head and ushering me from my seat. I complied until I reached the grand entrance of the hall. Stood in the doorway was Apollo also in a traditional chiton. Just past him, awaiting us outside was the chariot that would take us to his home.

I stepped up closer to him, smiling up at him as he beamed down at me. He literally was the sun personified and I couldn’t wait to spend eternity with him.

If there were any formal rituals associated with the unveiling ceremony they had either been long since forgotten or Apollo didn’t care because he took a more modern approach. After a whispered, “I love you,” he took the veil and flipped it over my head before gently placing one hand on my jaw, the other on my waist before kissing me deeply. Much like modern Christian ceremonies.

Although, the kiss wasn’t very Christian as it was deep and passionate and Apollo seemed reluctant to end it. Every time he pulled away slightly it was just to connect our lips deeper again. He only pulled away when a shout came from Hermes. “You’re not in your bedchambers yet!”

Apollo pulled away with a laugh while I flushed with embarrassment. Upon noticing me, he pulled me closer with a laugh whilst I buried my face in his shoulder. I could feel his deep, joyful laugh as he turned to address the room. “The sun may be up a lot later tomorrow morning!” he announced to the room.

I groaned against his shoulder, pushing him towards the chariot. As he stepped away from me, he grabbed my hand. He helped me up onto the chariot before stepping up himself. As soon as he was stood firmly behind me, I urged the horses forward.

As we proceeded out, all of our guests appeared along the path all the way to Apollo’s home. Used to all the praise and attention, Apollo waved to other other deities as they cheered us on, with me tucked under his arm trying not to fall out of the chariot.

As we reached the grand entrance of the mansion, we finally had some privacy. The sun god helped me down from the chariot again, before sweeping me off my feet. “And now, we will enter our home, cementing our marriage,” he explained with a smile.

I giggled, wrapping my arms around his neck as he carried me through the magically opened doors. He didn’t even bother to pretend to want to celebrate that we were married now, he immediately carried me up towards the bedroom. “You’re going to hate your mother for not letting me see you for two weeks because tonight I’m making up for not fucking you for that time,” he explained eagerly.

As he went the doors opened automatically until he was placing me on the middle of the bed. He followed, kneeling on the bed with a leg on either side of my hips, looking down at me. I began unfastening the bindings of my chiton but Apollo just snapped his fingers and I was in white lingerie. Before I could comprehend what happened, he tore the bralette off of me as his lips found mine. As he kissed me, I could feel his warm hands on my breasts, fondling them and teasing my nipples.

Soon enough his lips were leaving mine and trailing down my neck and chest until one of my nipples was in his mouth. I let out a soft moan as I felt his tongue swirl around me. He moved to the other breast, simultaneously sliding his other hand to my panties which I now realized were entirely lace as there was virtually nothing in between his fingers and my pussy.

As his thumb found my clit and his mouth continued the assault on my breasts, I could only let out cries of pleasure. My hands found his back as I dug my nails into his skin, trying to ground myself. But one hand overstimulating my clit, the other rubbing circles around my nipple, and the other nipple still being tortured by his mouth was too much and my panties became even more soaked as I climaxed.

Upon feeling my entire body seize, Apollo pulled away from me with a satisfied smile. I stared up at him in slight wonderment. I never orgasmed that fast, I would have thought that I’d be less sensitive as a goddess. Seeing my surprise, Apollo explained with a laugh. “Now that we’re both immortal and married we’re more in tune with each other,” he explained. “It’s like our bodies are made for each other. They just react more to each other than when you were mortal.”

“So you feel it more too?” I asked. He nodded. “Good,” I smiled. I snapped my fingers and all of a sudden his chiton was gone and he was naked. Before he could react, I had pushed him to lay on the bed, my body on top of his. Much like what he had done to me prior, I gave him a brief yet deep kiss before lowering my head to his already erect cock. I met his eager gaze, holding eye contact as I grasped his cock. Stroking it a bit, I brought my mouth down on it while still maintaining eye contact. I felt his entire body shiver as I wrapped my lips around the sensitive head that was already leaking precum.

I licked at the sensitive head ever so slightly, bringing my mouth up and down his shaft the littlest bit, teasing him. But as I reached the very end of his cock, acting as if I was about to pull away, his hand shot out to my head, keeping me in place. Looking up, I found his face contorted in pleasure, the hand not tangled in my hair was gripping the sheets. “Don’t stop,” he said in a strained voice. I complied, continuing my assault on his cock. As a goddess, I no longer had to worry about a gag reflex so I could take his entire cock in my mouth, something he deeply appreciated judging by his deep groans.

I tried to keep going until he came in my mouth but his grip on my hair pulled me away. “No!” he grunted out. “I wanna cum inside you first.” He immediately flipped us so now he was on top of me but my head was nearly hanging off the foot of the bed, ripping off my lace panties in the process. He stared down hungrily at my cunt, licking his lips like a starved man. Rather than fuck me like I thought he was going to, he brought his mouth to my core. Upon feeling his mouth wrap around my core, tongue prodding at my clit, I let out more of a yell than a moan. I was so sensitive from the previous orgasm, I came directly in his mouth this time. But rather than stop there, he kept going. His tongue made its way inside my clenching hole, swirling around, making me see stars.

I was squirming around so much his hands had locked around my hips, immobilizing me. All I could do was beg him to stop as he assaulted my cunt until he finally pulled away after one more release. “I need you inside me,” I begged him as he raised himself to his knees. He smiled, eagerly complying. He pulled my hips up until they were flush with his. I brought my legs up as he did so, resting them on his shoulders as he slowly pushed inside of me.

I screamed so loudly in pleasure you’d think I was being murdered. Gods I was so sensitive from the previous orgasms and our newfound connection.

Once he was fully in me I could feel his cock twitching inside of me and I knew what that meant. He had never cum this fast but then again, never had I either. I rolled my hips into his, wanted him to feel the same pleasure I had and I could immediately feel him spill inside of me. Which made me cum around his cock, milking everything out of him.

But he didn’t pull out or soften inside of me. That was the nice thing about gods, there was no refractory period. As soon as he stopped cumming, his hips were moving again, fucking me.

I quickly became a babbling mess as he continued to fuck me through numerous orgasms each. He had me bent over, riding him, under him, every position imaginable. Sometimes he was rough, other times more gentle and loving. No matter what we did I loved every moment of it.

He only stopped when he had to go get the sun chariot ready. Despite the fact that I didn’t need to sleep anymore, I immediately passed out as soon as he left.

~

Apollo’s lips on my neck were the only things that pulled me out of the inviting grasp of sleep. I let out a groan so he knew that I was awake.

“‘Morning,” he greeted in my ear. “So today is called epaulia, it’s when everyone comes to congratulate us and bring gifts,” he explained through kisses. “I can tell them that you’re not feeling up to it today if you want. I know you’re new to immortality and last night was a lot.” I could feel his smug grin against the skin of my jaw. “But, if you choose not to see anyone then I’m warning you that you’re not leaving this bed.”

I finally peeled my eyes fully open. Fortunately the blinds around the bed had been drawn so I wasn’t blinded. I rolled over, meeting his gaze. “I know I’m immortal and as much as I would love to spend the entire day in bed with you, I think I might actually die of exhaustion if you do that to me.” A grin appeared on his face as his fingers found their way in between my legs. “Apollo,” I moaned, tossing my head back as his fingers assaulted my still puffy and throbbing clit.

“Okay,” he agreed, as if he weren’t fingering me right now. “I’ll tell them they can come over once I’m done.” He continued, his fingers fucking me to the edge of an orgasm. But before I could finish, a gong rang through the home. I jumped and Apollo pulled away. “Oh shit, I guess they came anyways.” He pressed a kiss to my cheek before jumping out of bed. “I’ll talk to them while you get dressed. Technically today is about you since epaulia is supposed to make the bride more comfortable.” I just stared at him, still a little bit flabbergasted before he disappeared.

After a minute of calming myself down, I got up. Going to the vanity I found my messy appearance. Fortunately I could just give myself a beauty charm, something Aphrodite taught me, and I looked like I hadn’t spent the night being fucked within an inch of my life. I summoned a white slip dress that was still modest enough to be worn in front of my family.

With one last look in the mirror I headed downstairs, finding several goods and goddesses standing in the foyer. As soon as they noticed my presence, several of the goddesses came flocking over to me. They were all asking about last night—questions I wouldn’t be answering considering I hardly knew them—and shoving gifts in my hands.

Seeing as I didn’t have enough hands, they all herded me towards the kitchen, lining the counters with their gifts. Eventually Apollo made his way towards me, throwing an arm around my shoulder. He addressed the crowd with ease, telling them thanks but not to crowd me. His confidence was baffling but I guess when you’ve spent centuries being adored it comes easily.

Aphrodite pushed her way through the crowd, Ares standing behind her with a glare. I retreated further into Apollo’s embrace, remembering how he was trying to kill me just two weeks ago. “Open my present,” Aphrodite gushed, oblivious to her lover’s glare.

Shaking off Ares’ intimidation, I took the pink box in my hand. “Aphrodite, do I want to open this in front of everyone?” I asked, my eyes flickering across the room of mostly strangers and meeting my mother’s scowl.

“Yes, it’s fine!” she insisted. “It’s just perfume.” I opened it reluctantly, knowing that her perfumes were love potions. I pulled it out of the box, the label informing me that it would make me irresistible.

A few other visitors presented their gifts. I was delighted by the plants that Athena, Artemis, and a few nymphs gave me. There were a few lingerie sets that I didn’t take out of the boxes and bags. As well as a few other home goods.

By the time I had gotten through the mountain of gifts, someone had pulled out the alcoholic nectar. Aphrodite quickly pushed a champagne flute of it into my hands. “Have you ever drank, Y/N?” she asked. “You were at camp a long time.”

“Um, once when I was 15 before I became a year-round camper,” I explained. “My boyfriend at the time and I-”

“Your boyfriend?” Apollo demanded in surprise, having never left my side.

“You knew about him!” I defended. “We only made out a couple times.”

“Still,” he huffed.

“I know your children. I grew up with some of them,” I pointed out.

He rolled his eyes playfully. “Yeah whatever,” he said with a pout before breaking out in a smile. “Hey, I’m gonna go talk to Hermes,” he informed, pressing a kiss to my temple. He then looked at Aphrodite. “Please don’t let her get too drunk,” he requested. “There’s a difference between mortal alcohol and god alcohol. Even Dionysus has made a fool of himself off of this stuff.”

“Don’t worry,” Aphrodite assured. “I’ll take care of her.”

He gave her an uneasy look but I just pushed him to go. “Go have fun. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” he said reluctantly. “I love you,” he told me before disappearing into the crowd.

I looked back at Aphrodite and she was immediately waving her hand, shots appearing on the counter. “Oh we’re getting you wasted tonight,” she laughed. I laughed with her, grabbing a shot off the counter.

“To love,” I toasted with her as she grabbed a glass.

~~

Apollo and several other gods were in the den, talking with an American football game playing when Hermes came in. “Apollo!” he called across the room, obviously a little drunk. “Your wife is fun!” he slurred.

By now all the men were looking at him. Apollo stood up, going to his friend. “What do you mean, bud?” he asked.

“Well I was going to get some food but I ended up doing shots with Y/N,” he explained enthusiastically. A few chuckles erupted from the room. New immortals were rare but when they got inebriated the first time it was always funny. “That girl can drink.”

Apollo chuckled nervously, directing his friend to the couch before going back out to the main room. Stepping into the main living space, he found Artemis with her on the couch, trying to force ambrosia into her mouth.

“Y/N, you have to either eat or I’ll force you to throw up,” he heard Artemis threaten.

“Thanks ‘Mis,” he interrupted, taking a seat on the other side of his wife. “I’ve got it from here.” His twin nodded before standing up and disappearing into the crowd.

His wife looked at him with a smile. “Sorry I got drunk,” she giggled. Apollo couldn’t help but smile. She was cute like this.

“It’s ok, I don’t blame you. Aphrodite was supposed to watch you.”

“She did this to me.”

“Yeah, well, you need to sober up a bit before you rejoin the party,” he said, taking her hand. She followed him up into a standing position but immediately tripped over herself. Catching her, Apollo held her close to help her keep her balance. “Let’s try this,” he said, before transporting them to their bedroom.

He managed to get her to the bed, sitting her down on it. Out of nowhere she gasped. “You’re trying to take advantage of a drunk girl!” she immediately erupted into giggles.

He smiled, joining her laugh. “No, you’re gonna sleep off the shots.” She huffed but agreed anyways. Apollo thanked her for her cooperation. “I’ll be downstairs. Call me if you need anything,” he said, pressing a kiss to her cheek before going back downstairs.

~~

I laid back on the bed, staring up at the windows above me. Despite the fact that there were still no clouds in the sky, it looked like it was moving. My head seemed to swim and it was as if my body was mortal again. I felt so weak now.

Just before I found the strength to roll over and go to sleep, I head the bedroom door open. “Apollo?” I called, assuming it was him. When I got no response I sat up, finding a vaguely familiar figure coming up the stairs. My vision was too hazy to see his face distinctly.

“Hey, Y/N,” the voice came.

As the figure got closer I could finally make out his face. “Phobos?” I guessed.

He smiled. “You remember me and you’re not screaming in terror,” he chuckled. I shrugged awkwardly. He sighed, sitting on the bed next to me. “Listen, uh, I'm sorry about trying to kill you. Father’s orders, y’know?”

“Uh, sure,” I agreed.

“I was hoping you could forgive me,” he requested. He kept moving his head to look into my eyes, as if willing me to agree. Fortunately for me, my vision was going in and out of focus too much for it to have any affect.

“Yeah, we could be friends,” I slurred excitedly.

“Well, I was uh… hoping we could be more than friends,” he said nervously. Before I could ask him what he meant, his lips were on mine. His hands locked onto my jaw and neck, holding me in place as I struggled.

As he tried to lay me down on the bed, I slipped out of his grasp. Literally falling onto the floor. I tried to crawl away but he was straddling my hips, pinning me down in a second. “Apollo!” I yelled, tears streaming down my face in fear.

Before I could yell again, Apollo’s face was in front of me. As if it had replaced Phobos’. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Apollo’s voice came but it sounded hollow. “It’s just me,” he assured. His lips found my neck, hand trailing up my body.

“No!” I cried. “I don’t wanna right now. I feel weird.”

“You’ll feel better,” he assured, continuing to touch me.

“Phobos!” I yelled, pushing him away, or trying to at least. “Apollo wouldn’t do this to me!” I insisted, recalling all the times when I told him I didn’t want to do anything and he backed off. “Apollo!” I screamed again, hoping he’d hear me over the talking and music.

I cried harder as his hands found the neckline of my dress. But before he could work the garment off of me, there was a flash of light and a yell. “What in Tartarus are you doing, Phobos?!” Apollo’s enraged yell came. The god on top of me immediately changed back to his original form as Apollo yanked him away.

The vague forms of other gods appeared as Apollo was still holding Phobos. A girl I recognized as Athena came rushing over to my side, making sure I was ok. “What happened?” she asked.

It was hard to explain through the alcohol and the tears but I told them about how he came up and started trying to assault me.

“It’s not like that!” Phobos insisted. “Ares told me I should try to get with her.”

“Why?” Zeus’ booming voice demanded from his son and grandson. No one answered. “Tell me or Hecate will be administering truth serums.”

An angry voice belonging to Ares answered reluctantly. “I thought that if Y/N cheated on Apollo she'd leave him for Phobos and then he’d be devastated that my son stole his wife.” There were a few murmurs and I could vaguely hear Aphrodite reprimand him. “But I didn’t tell him to force himself on her.”

Apollo started yelling, causing some of the others to start yelling until Zeus silenced them. “Enough! Ares and Phobos, you’re coming with me. Apollo, take care of your wife. Y/N,” I think I vaguely looked in his direction, “I'm sorry your epaulia was ruined and this happened to you. Everyone else out of Apollo’s home!” he yelled to the rest of the house. There were a few groans and disagreements but within a few minutes everyone had disappeared, leaving just me, my husband, and mother.

“C’mon,” he said, picking me up off the floor. I curled into him as he carried me to the bed.

Meanwhile my mother was still there, arms crossed and tapping her foot like a cartoon. “See I knew something like this would happen.”

“Dem, can we not do this now?” Apollo asked as he placed me on the bed.

“You can’t even protect her!” she continued anyways. “You knew she was vulnerable but were too busy with your friends. I knew you weren’t capable of being a husband.”

“Hey-” Apollo began.

“And you!” Demeter continued anyway. She appeared in my still hazy vision. “Getting that drunk at your own epaulia? What were you thinking? He wouldn’t have tried to force himself on you if you hadn’t been so irresponsible.”

“That’s enough, Demeter!” my husband yelled at her. “You’ve been nothing but critical ever since you found out about us. But we’re married, twice now. You can’t change that. And are you seriously blaming her for what just happened? You of all people should be sympathetic and be glad I got there when I did.”

I could hear Demeter’s huff. “Well she wouldn’t have been in danger in the first place if you never got involved.” Then there was a flash of light and she was gone.

Apollo’s sigh came before he settled down on the bed with me. “I’m so sorry that happened,” he stated, pulling me tightly into his chest. “I never should have left you alone.”

“‘S ok,” I consoled, still slurring my words. “Not your fault.”

“I love you so much,” he said, hugging me impossibly tighter. “I swear that nothing like that will ever happen again.”

Part 1 | Masterlist