#I’ve had an eye twitch for months now and I’m definitely getting more blind

[laz-kay]

I relate to Tina and Linda on a personal level here😂

Bob's Burgers, Boys just wanna have Fungus (S10: E2)

[nctsworld]

completely floored

✩ jeno x reader | best friends to lovers | fluff | smut | 1.5k

SUMMARY | who knew gaming on the floor like you two used to could change everything between you and your best friend? WARNINGS | smut, floor s*x, oral s*x (m receiving) RATING | mature PROMPT | staring at each other’s lips for a moment before giving in REQ BY | anonymous

AUTHOR’S NOTE | bless up for the boring jalapeno teasers to give me inspo and i’ve been wanting to write jeno for a long time so hehe i also haven’t played uno in forever sorry if there’s anything off

In Jeno’s basement rental suite, you two are sitting comfortably near each other on his carpeted floor, playing Halo together with your backs leaning against his worn-down sofa. 

“You doing okay?” Jeno asks with care, glancing over at your side of the TV screen where you’re blatantly struggling to stay alive from the onslaught of enemies. His gaze then falls on you for a second. 

“Yep, doing great,” you singsong, sarcasm laced in your tone. He catches sight of you sticking out your tongue in frustration.

Jeno’s not sure why the expression from you comes off more cute to him than usual. He smiles to himself in amusement and turns his attention back to the game.

It’s been about six months since you’ve last hung out one on one with him. Third year of university has been busy for both of you, but you’ve managed to find some free time now that finals were finally over this semester. 

And it feels exactly like old times from high school when you two used to sit on the floor at his parents’ house, gaming until the sun rose.

But things have definitely changed since then.

Like how gorgeous Jeno has gotten.

When you unsurprisingly die and have to wait to respawn until Jeno plows through the current batch of enemies, you waste your time in noticing his chiseled jaw line, the sexiness in his confident grin, and the raw attractiveness that exudes from him. 

You shake your thoughts away, attributing them to how you probably just missed hanging out with him, along with the fact that you’ve been single for way too long. 

After a couple more rounds of Halo, Uno replaces it as the next game of choice. Still on the floor, you’re now facing each other. About a few feet apart from you, Jeno has a leg pulled nearby to his chest, his arm resting on his raised knee. On the flipside, you’re sitting with lax legs bent onto their sides, parallel to the carpet. 

The early rounds of Uno are peaceful, but as it progresses, playful competitiveness emerges. The game shifts drastically when Jeno suddenly plays a handful of draw four cards. 

Your jaw swings open, shocked that he held onto so many for so long, and you complain about the unfairness of the situation. Smugly, Jeno shrugs and retorts back that’s simply how the game works. 

Twisting your mouth to one side and squinting your eyes, you then drop your cards in a teasing state of anger and launch yourself towards him. Your best friend merely laughs as you attempt to punch him in the arm. 

However, things take an unexpected turn. You lose balance and accidentally topple him down towards the carpet, your chest pressing atop of his.

Your faces are inches apart from one another. You’re both heavily breathing, practically inhaling the other’s air.

Each parties’ eyes flickers towards the other’s lips. Your gaze lingers longer than it should and you reprimand yourself because this is your best friend—your drop, dead gorgeous best friend who is looking at your lips with the same craving. 

Chest to chest, your hearts race together, pounding against the other almost in sync. Carefully, with a gulp, Jeno gently palms your cheek. Your eyelids flutter to a close.

Lips meet and collide, and you lay your hands on the planes of his chest. You’ve always felt safe around Jeno, but you’ve never felt more safe with him than like this. 

Soon enough, the kissing escalates, transforming into ones that drip of neediness and burning desire. Your touches dig deeper into each other. Throughout it, your shirt is thrown aside and you quickly attach yourself back onto him to help him rid of his layers.

Marking his body with a trail of hot kisses, you slowly make your descent towards his significantly hard desire. Seeing him shirtless is nothing new, but now that you have him up-close and all to yourself, you traverse his beauty without hurry. 

Peeking up at him when you reach his abs, you see him looking right back with an intent, ravenous stare. Because you’re not used to it, you feel a tingle in your cheeks and brush some hair behind your ear as you continue your trek.

Once at your destination, you strip him of his jeans and brief-boxers. Gasping silently at the sight, his sizable cock springs out and slaps against his stomach. You lick your lips, wanting his length immediately in your mouth. Instead, you restrain yourself and leave feathery kisses upon it.

Jeno sighs at the minimal sensation, his erection twitching in yearning for more. His sighs melt, replaced by sharp gasps and the ruffling of eyebrows as you devour him whole. For what you can’t engulf with your mouth, you pump with your hand.

“God...” he pants, eyeing you closely with with his hands behind his head, bare arms flexing delectably. Saliva begins to pool around his base as you suck endlessly. He peels a hand away and runs his fingers through your hair. “You’re so beautiful.” 

Coming up for air, you chuckle as you stroke him steadily. “You’re saying that ‘cause I just sucked you off.” 

“No.” Jeno strongly disagrees, a stern glimmer obvious in his eye. Shaking his head, he rises onto his forearms and leans in right up to your face. 

Your best friend whispers the following into your mouth as he rubs his thumb tenderly over your cheek—

“I’ve always thought you were beautiful.” 

Another kiss, but this time, lips are crashing fiercely, like it’s the last time you’d ever kiss anybody. Jeno caresses your upper body and similarly, your hand continues to squeeze and jerk him off. Impatiently, you stand to hurriedly remove your bra and tug your bottoms off. 

Jeno’s tongue drags along his lower jaw when you rush to your purse to grab a condom; he watches attentively at the perfect view of your ass.

You scuttle back and ease the rubber onto him, and within seconds, you’re sitting on his length. Once he’s completely inside, an acute throaty moan pierces the room and your head cranes back. You’ve never had anyone fill you up so full before, and yet, it doesn’t take much time to acclimatize to his girth.

Riding him, you bounce relentlessly with your weight on your knees and your hands graze his upper frame. You’re gone, blinded by ecstasy, but Jeno’s hazy look doesn’t stray from you. 

His pretty fingers glide upward over your stomach, then over your breasts. At first, he thumbs your nipples to play with you prior to kneading them hungrily in their entirety.

Without warning, Jeno seizes your back with one hand and brings himself up, snatching your breasts into his mouth. 

“Fuck, Jeno,” you exhale in pleasure, sinking your nails into his flexed back and shoulders. “What are we doing?” 

“Do you wanna stop?” he asks between the snug puckering of his lips around your nubs. 

“No, no,” you immediately reply, shaking your head profusely. “You feel too fucking good...” 

When he’s finished loving your breasts, you gesture for him to lean back down during a kiss. Like before when you fell on him in the beginning, your chests are glued together again, this time now sans clothes. 

Your lips maneuver over to his neck, attacking him with kisses, and you fuck him with the your ass jutting out. The wet slaps of your sexes intermingling, Jeno’s panting, and your whines penetrate your surroundings.

“I’m close, I’m close...” he says, his eyes rolling to the back of his head in timing for what’s about to happen. 

Dragging yourself away from his neck, you kiss him fervently while you fasten your pace. He moans into your mouth as he unravels, his sweaty palms relaxing against your perspired back. You follow right after, practically reaching your peaks together.

After a few moments, you roll off and lay beside him. Both of you pant towards the ceiling in disbelief. The disbelief that runs through you is immersed with an underlying fear. 

“Maybe I should get going...” you say unsurely, sitting up and looking at your clothes at the other side of the floor. 

Just because you’ve had sex with him, it doesn’t mean Jeno still isn’t your best friend, nor does it rid of the fact that he knows your change of emotions like the back of his hand. He sits up too, warmly wraps an arm around your shoulder, and kisses the top of your nude arm. 

“How about one more game?” he mumbles into your skin. 

“Which game?” you whisper curiously.

One more peck, this time on your cheek. 

“The game called Stay the Night.”

Your head turns to face him, gazes converging. He flashes you his saccharine smile, his eyes following suit and smiling as well.

“Can’t play it without you, but only if you want to.” He rubs the tip of his nose against yours, causing you to giggle. “What do you say?” 

You get lost in his eyes, realizing that maybe you’ve always had something for Jeno, whether you were conscious of it or not.

Despite it all, you know your feelings aren’t unrequited. They can’t be, not with the way he’s looking at you as if you’re his entire world right now. 

In response to his proposition, you lean in for another kiss. It’s definitely not the last kiss you give him tonight. 

Not by a long shot.

[phoenixyfriend]

Anakin, Shmi, and the Jedi Babies

(Plus Jango)

A scene from the Anakin and the Jedi Babies

Warnings for: canon-typical discussion of slavery.

Shmi is eleven years old when the stranger comes.

He’s tall, and covered in the kind of dark clothes that are hell in the desert. He’s got some armor, too, but not as much as the Mandalorians she sees walking around sometimes. His expression is mean, even though he’s smiling, and she thinks the trader is scared of him.

He’s buying her.

“Now I just need a name for the ownership paperwork,” the trader says. She thinks he’s sweating.

“The sale is already completed, yes?” the stranger says. He tilts his head and purses his lips, still smirking. “No sudden fees coming my way?”

“Of course not, honored customer,” the trader simpers.

“Anakin Skywalker.”

Shmi’s heart stops. That’s her family name.

The trader gets a little paler, as he realizes why this man is here. Shmi watches the calculations fly, wondering if he can maybe squeeze out a few extra wupiupi on this sale. Former slaves freeing family, even family they don’t know, always fetches the highest price.

The stranger—Anakin—leans across the counter and looms over the trader, smiling in the most threatening way Shmi’s ever seen. “No sudden fees, right?”

“Well, there will be the code transfer f—”

“I’m the most dangerous person in this city,” the man says, smile dropping away like flies from a bantha. “Don’t make me prove it, friend.”

The sale is secured, the codes handed over, the detonator passing hands.

Shmi falls into step next to Anakin, hurrying to keep up with his longer strides. He takes her a few blocks away without a word, and then into a shallow spot in an alleyway, right where foot traffic won’t be a bother.

“Hey,” he says, dropping to one knee and placing himself where, even when she sets her gaze low, he’ll be there. He smiles at her, hesitant but far, far kinder than what she saw in the shop. “Do you want me to deactivate your chip now, or once we’re on my ship? I can’t remove it until we’re out of here; I’m no surgeon.”

“…now, please,” she whispers, and watches him punch in the numbers and codes to neutralize the bomb she’s carried inside herself since she was three. It’s done in less than two minutes.

“Do you want me to break this?” he asks, voice soft.

She nods, and watches in fascination as he crushes it in his fist with seemingly no effort.

He smiles at her, tosses the shards into the nearest compactor, and then offers her the hand that isn’t in a glove. She takes it, like she used to take her mom’s before they were separated, and follows him through Mos Pelgo. He’s family. He’s cleanly, clearly freed her. She should be able to trust him.

“Where are we going?” she manages to work up the courage to ask.

His stride stutters a bit, his hand squeezing hers, but his voice is even when he speaks. “Well, I would like you to stay with me, but if you have… have any family to return to, that you know how to find…”

“I don’t know where my mom is,” she says. “She got sold when I was four.”

He squeezes her hand again, and she dares to look at his face. His eyes are squinted, angry, and focused on the horizon. She’d call it stormy, if she’d ever been to a planet of water, but she was a child of the desert. She could feel his anger, and it wasn’t hot and sharp and blinding enough to be a storm of sand.

(She felt that it could be, in the intuition that had kept her alive these past years.)

“I see,” he says. “I’m… okay, then. I’d try to find her if I could, but I don’t know how to do that.”

Shmi shrugs. “She was sent to Jabba’s. I don’t think she’s… um. She’s probably dead, now.”

He’s silent in response to that.

“How did you find me?” she asks, because her intuition says to trust this man to keep her alive, even if she thinks she may not trust his temper.

He thinks about that for a second, and then lets go of her hand for a moment to brush aside a layer of his tunic.

A lightsaber.

Her eyes dart up to his, wide and maybe a little awed. He grins, a little more carefree than before.

“Jeedai?”

“A full Jedi knight, believe it or not,” he confirms. “The Force led me to find you. I don’t think I’d have been able to do locate you without it.”

“Wizard,” she whispers, and then he pulls her into his side and out of the way of a large, too-fast-for-these-streets speeder.

He swears under his breath in a language she doesn’t recognize.

“So, I’m going with you,” she says. “Um, where… where do Jedi live?”

“The Temple is on Coruscant,” he tells her. “But I’ve got business in Mandalorian space, so that’s where I’m based out of right now.”

“Okay,” she says. Mandalore… maybe that’s why he’s got armor like one of them. “I… I heard that Jedi are all called Master, so—”

“No,” Anakin snaps, turning around and getting to one knee in front of her again, hands on both her shoulders, stopping her in a fraction of a second with a look so intense that it scares her. “No, you are never to call me that. You are never going to bow your head to a master again, okay? You are free, and you are family.”

She stares at him for a long second, and then nods. She thinks her head jerks a bit too sharply, but he’s scary. He cares so much that it frightens her. He must be able to tell, because he closes his eyes and visibly forces himself to calm down.

“I was freed when I was nine,” he tells her. “By a Jedi Master. And I know… I know how uncomfortable it is to live like that, where the word means something different to you than it does to everyone else. I became a Jedi, so I learned to make it mean what it was supposed to, respect for teachers and—and elders. But you, you’re not a Jedi, you’re just a girl, and you matter, and—don’t make yourself say it. Please.”

“Okay,” she says. “Do I just… do I just call you Anakin, then?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine,” he says, and his hands twitch on her shoulders. She thinks he wants to pull her into a hug, but is forcing himself to stop. “Or Ani, if you want, my—my mom used to call me that. Seems like something to keep for family.”

“Okay,” she says again. She can do that.

“Or, um,” he hesitates, and then barrels on. “We’ll be in Mandalore. They say ori’vod to mean older sibling. So, er, you can call me that. If you want. You don’t have to.”

She’ll have to practice. It looks like it means a lot to him. “I’ll think about it.”

“Great,” he says, and dithers for a moment before he stands up and turns around, black robes flaring. “Come on, let’s get out of the sun.”

He leads her to just outside the city limits, where there’s a small ship waiting, enough for a half-dozen people on longer trips, maybe. She doesn’t know much about ships, but this one’s covered in scratches and pits, like it’s been in fights and come out the other side.

They open the door, and are met with wailing.

Anakin rushes past her, shouting, “Ben!”

Shmi doesn’t follow immediately, but he’s been pretty insistent that she’s family, not property. She’s allowed inside.

She finds Anakin in the main room, holding a baby and bouncing it in his arms as he hisses a demand to a boy only a few years older than Shmi herself.

“—my kids, Jango!”

“I’m here to babysit the ship, not the baby!” the teenager argues back.

Anakin scoffs and turns his attention to the baby in his arms. Shmi isn’t entirely sure, but she thinks the baby is definitely less than a year old. It quiets in his arms, tiny hands fisting in the fabric she knows is still too hot from the sun outside.

“Shmi, you can sit down,” he tells her, distracted. “I’d love to talk more but I think I need to make a bottle for Ben. I’ll be back in a few.”

She looks around, sees a bench, and sits down. She presses her hands together in her lap, keeps her eyes on the japor charm her mother left with her years ago, hanging around her wrist. She can wait. She’s patient. She’ll figure out how freedom works eventually.

“Mmmmmmbook!”

Shmi jolts in her seat as a very small body collides with her leg, blue and white and giggling. The head of that small body turns up to stare at her with massive eyes, and she sees the child’s face is orange. Togruta, she thinks, and very young.

The little one pushes a flimsi book onto Shmi’s lap and pats at it, grinning up at Shmi with tiny, pearly teeth.

“Ad’ika, she just got here,” the-teenager-that-is-probably-named-Jango sighs, dropping into the seat next to Shmi. “Let her rest.”

“Sto-wee!” the baby Togruta insists, patting at Shmi’s leg. The little one tries to climb up onto the bench, and Shmi reaches out to help after she realizes the toddler is about to slip. She receives, in thanks, a delighted grin and a montral to the ribs as the child hugs her.

“’m Soka!” the little one introduces.

“She’s one of Skywalker’s,” probably-Jango says. “He showed up with those two a few months ago in the middle of a chaak’la snowstorm.”

“No!” Soka insists, slapping her little hand on the book a few times. “No ‘ssip! Book!”

Jango lets his head fall against the metal wall behind them. “Fine. No gossip.”

Shmi looks at the little girl, and then back at the book. She’s… well, she can read. Mostly. She can read better than most slaves her age, but this is Basic, not Huttese.

She cracks it open to the first page, finds herself relieved that it really is a children’s story with small words and big letters, and starts reading it out loud. She goes slow. The story is about an eopie trying to find its way home after getting lost, asking other farm animals for help. There are plenty of pictures, and sometimes Soka pats at the book and shouts the name of an animal. It’s very cute, overall.

About two-thirds of the way through, she stumbles. It’s a word she hasn’t seen before, long and with repeating letters that she can’t quite figure out how to say. She pauses, long enough that she’s sure little Soka is confused about why she’s stopped.

“Happabore,” Jango mutters.

Shmi lifts her head, but he’s not looking at her. She looks down at the book again, mouths the letters to herself, and thinks that yes, that probably fits. She keeps reading aloud, letting little Soka tell her about her favorite animals, and when she finishes and looks up, it’s to find Anakin standing across from them.

He’s leaning against a doorframe, bottle-feeding the baby named Ben, and watching them with an expression Shmi thinks might be ‘wistful.’

“Skyguy!” Little Soka cheers, sliding off the bench so she can toddle over to the man as fast as her little legs can carry her. “Skyguy, gots a fweind!”

He smiles indulgently and lets her hug his leg. “I can see that, Snips. You guys have fun?”

“Uh-huh!” the little one tells him. She raises her hands at him. “Up!”

“Sorry, hun, no can do,” Anakin apologizes. “I’m feeding Ben, and I need both hands for that.”

She pouts, and he jerks his chin at Shmi and Jango. “Go back to the bench and you can help me feed him, okay?”

Soka races back.

“Fett, go get the ship powered up,” Anakin says as he ambles over, voice the kind of casually commanding that gives Shmi goosebumps. It’s not familiar, not the way an owner is, but it’s… it’s a voice that’s very used to having authority. “I want us out of here as soon as possible.”

“You’re not the boss of me.”

“I am the commanding officer according to Jaster,” Anakin says, and Shmi watches him raise an eyebrow. “I know it’s not much of a mission, but I am in charge until we’re back on Concord Dawn. You want me to tell him you’re playing at insubordination?”

Jango makes a face, sticking out his tongue. Anakin waits.

Jango goes to start the ship.

“Teenagers,” Anakin mutters, shaking his head. “I want to say I was never that bad, but I’d be lying.”

Soka giggles, bouncing in her seat as Anakin carefully lowers himself down next to her. “Okay, okay, settle down. He’s cranky, kiddo.”

“Wanna help,” Soka stresses, reaching for the bottle. Anakin shifts away from her, keeping it out of her reach. “Skyguy!”

“Slow down, Snips,” he chides. “Climb on my lap and we can hold him together, okay?”

Shmi fiddles with her japor snippet, but she can’t help her fascination with the dynamic presented. Anakin obviously isn’t related to Soka by blood, but he’s adopted her as his own. They haven’t said as much, but it’s obvious. He can’t stop smiling as he talks the girl through holding the bottle for her baby brother, even though it’s obvious from the outside that he’s the one actually holding it, and her, and the baby.

The ship hums to life around them. Anakin tilts his head, as if listening to something, and then goes back to the baby.

It’s another minute before Anakin says, “Okay, that’s enough. I need to burp him. Go on, scoot.”

Soka grimaces as well as a two-year-old can, and slides off of Anakin’s lap onto the bench. He stands and presses the baby up to his shoulder, patting it on the back. There’s a towel there already, something Shmi hadn’t noticed earlier.

“I’m going to go check on Jango,” he tells them. “Shmi, can you get Soka in her seat? I’ll tell you how to buckle her in, but I promised Jango he could fly us back and I want to sit up there to make sure he gets us into hyperspace without, say, exploding.”

It’s only a minute or two to get both of them sat down and buckled in, and Soka spends the entire time until lift-off telling Shmi about how much she likes eopies. This continues well until they end up in hyperspace, the jolt of it making the little one squeal in excitement, even if Shmi feels her stomach drop out. Shortly after, the boys wander back in.

“We’re good for a couple hours,” Anakin says. “Nav computer’s got it until we jump back out. Anyone want a snack?”

“Me!” Soka screeches, bouncing in her seat. “Jan-Jan, snacktime!”

Anakin’s eyebrows climb up towards his hairline. “Well, seems like you’ve got a fan, Fett.”

“Shut up,” Jango grumbles, but he does go over and pick Soka out of her child seat, setting her on his hip and going in the direction of what Shmi assumes is the galley.

“You doin’ okay?” Anakin asks, carefully taking the seat next to her. He sits Ben up on his lap, but the baby has trouble staying in that position. Anakin takes his hands, letting tiny fists curl around his thumbs, to help him stay up.

“It’s a lot,” she says. “But I am happy to be free.”

He grins at her. “Glad to hear it. It’s a lot to adjust to, I know, but… I’m happy to have you with us.”

She nods, eyes on the baby that’s swaying from side to side as Anakin moves his hands, like a very, very small speeder pilot.

“Is he, um, yours?” Shmi asks. “Or did you adopt, like Soka?”

Anakin’s smile, so full of love, drops off. He presses his lips into a thin line, and for a moment, Shmi wonders if she’s made a horrible misstep.

“What… what do you know about Jedi relationships?” Anakin asks, voice quiet.

“Nothing,” she admits, but she’s not ashamed of that. Nobody knows much about the Jedi.

“Okay,” he says, more to himself than to her. “Okay, so… okay. There are a couple ranks in the Order. Younglings go in the crèche, communally raised in groups, and then when they’re five or so, they get to become Initiates. A few years later, usually between ten and fourteen, they can enter an apprenticeship to a Jedi Knight or Master, and the apprentice rank is Padawan. When the apprenticeship is done, they become Knights, basically journeymen, and at some point after that, Masters. There are positions that technically rank higher, councils and heads of divisions, and there’s stuff outside the apprenticeship system, like the service corps, but that’s not super relevant. It’s complicated but we’re only focusing on the apprenticeship path for knights.”

He hesitates, and then continues. “One of the ways to become a Master in the Order is to successfully raise a Padawan to knighthood. I was never an Initiate, because I came to the Order so much later than most. I immediately became a Padawan, and my master was freshly knighted. The relationship between master and padawan is… it’s family. Some of the more orthodox of the Order don’t like to put it in those words, but it really is.

“If I ever talk about my Master, just know I’m not talking about any of the owners I had before I was freed. I’m talking about the man who raised me, the man I saw as a father. He may not have seen me as a son, more a brother, but he was only sixteen years older than me, and… anyway. Jedi lineages are family. Your Master is a parent, or an older sibling, and your Padawan is a child to bring up as your own,” he finishes this off with the kind of deep, heavy breath that she thinks precedes grief. She can’t tell.

“My master is… well, he’s not in a position to teach anyone anything anymore. Ben here is all I have left of him.”

Oh.

Oh.

Anakin doesn’t look at her, just stares down at the baby that’s gotten cranky again, and rearranges Ben to lie sideways in his arms. He smiles down as the baby burbles up at him, and tickles at the baby’s stomach. Ben grabs at Anakin’s fingers and kicks at the air, laughing in the manner of all children that small.

The man hums, and Shmi is more shocked than she should be to hear one of the lullabies she’s heard in slave quarters all her life.

“He’s your son now,” she says, more firmly than she feels. “He is yours to raise and care for, and I can tell you love him as much as any parent.”

Anakin lifts his head, staring at her like he can’t quite believe she’s there, and tears collect at the edges of his eyes.

“Thank you, Shmi Skywalker,” he says, and she feels like there’s more weight in those words than there should be. He licks his lips, eyes darting away for a second, and then asks, “do you want to hold him?”

She steels herself, and nods.

This is her family now.

Hers.

[helliontherapscallion]

Stressful Spectres (Sweet Betrayal Part 3)

Part 1     Part 2     Part 4

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: swearing, mentions of abuse/neglect, mentions of death, slight body gore, blood

Word count: 2,873

With hands tightly clasped behind your back, you tensely paced around your office. The Pogtopians were constantly being sighted around the borders of Manberg and it was your job to prevent this. You tried everything; setting up traps, luring mobs around the vicinity, nothing worked. They just kept coming back like pesky cockroaches following pheromones. The only way you’d be able to prevent them from spying into the borders was to rebuild a wall, and Schlatt would turn your idea down the second the word ‘wall’ would leave your mouth. He gave you only two days to completely figure everything out from the last time one of the cowards was spotted running from the borders, and it seems that those two days are nearly up. 

“You should take a break, (y/n).” Without looking at him, you kept pacing and ignored him. “Stop ignoring me, you know I don’t like when you do that… Please, take a break. I’m worried about you,” he sounded just like he did from before. You felt your eye twitch. 

“...(Y/n), remember what I used to sing to you?” He chuckled, the sound being airy and far off, “‘hey hobo man, hey dapper Dan-’”

“Shut the fuck up!” You grabbed your vase and hurled it blindly in his direction. The glass shattered against the wall and you heard nothing else from the teenager. “I don’t need you anymore.” He had been visiting you for the past week or so, ever since Schlatt found out about you taking your birthday off. You were banned from speaking to the Badlanders and got a few physical punishments that would definitely give you more scars on your arms. It was your fault anyways, you were slacking off during a war when you were one of the leaders of this country.

Your door opened when you were mid pace, making you plaster a strained smile on your face and spin around to narrow your eyes at whomever decided to not knock. You were greeted by a slightly buzzed ram hybrid raising an eyebrow at you. He must’ve just started drinking. 

Whenever he was only slightly buzzed or on the very rare chance he was sober, he was the most affectionate with you. It wasn’t much, only small praises and the occasional smile, but by Ender you ate it up like you were a drug addict getting their first hit in months. You craved any type of affection, no matter where it came from or how rarely it came. You were willing to wait for it, even if it was rare. 

His amber gaze flicked around the room before it landed on the ceramic shards embedded into the carpet. He jutted his chin towards it, “fuck happen there?” 

You ran your hand down your face and massaged your aching cheeks, “nothing. Just thought I saw a rat, but my mind was just playing tricks on me.” His calculating gaze pierced through you like a spear before he narrowed his eyes slightly and nodded. He walked over to the window and looked out at the vast city, hands neatly clasped behind his back. “...Have you come up with a solution to our... problem?”

You sighed angrily and resumed your pacing, “I’ve tried everything. They just dismantle the traps I set up, kill the mobs I lure around it, they even killed the iron golems! The only option here is to put up the walls again.” 

“I know you didn’t just say what I thought you fuckin said,” Schlatt hissed out, “there’s no way in hell I’m putting up those walls again.”

“I don’t know what you want me to do then, that’s our only option,” you mumbled under your breath only to freeze when Schlatt stomped up to you. He spun you around and grabbed your shoulders, leaning close to your face. His breath smelled like tobacco and a hint of scotch, “are you questioning my authority?” You shook your head frantically. “Really? Cuz it sure sounds like you’re questioning my authority. You seem to forget that I’m your boss and you will treat me as such. Do you understand me?”

You nodded and he let you go, slightly shoving you off to the side as he walked past you. “I-I’m sorry, Dad.” He paused in your doorway, “don’t call me that. I don’t want to be the father of someone that constantly contradicts me. I’ll be back in an hour, you better have this shit figured out by the time I get back or I swear to Ender I’ll fire your sorry ass. You’re on thin ice, (y/n).” Without a second word he left your office, the sound of his dress shoes clanking against the tile fading down the hallway. 

You could feel your heart break inside of your chest and your lungs get deflated by the shards piercing them. He was the last person that actually loved you, and you fucked it up. You always fuck everything up, you supposed that it was an innate part of you. No matter what you did or what you tried, you’re always going to be a fuck up. 

No, you can’t just sit here and ponder all of your life’s mistakes; you need to be brainstorming before you lose your connection to the person you loved the most. You paced around your office endlessly murmuring to yourself. You knew he was watching you pace again standing off in the corner, the room felt off like it always did whenever he was there. You ignored him and continued your pacing. 

Just as you came up with a solution, your door was opened and Schlatt stepped into your office once more. He was swaying slightly on his feet and his suit jacket was unbuttoned. “You figure something out?” 

You put a confident smile on your face, “yes. I think we should send patrols around the border, and I think the Badlanders and Rutabagaville members would fare nicely. We can send them in groups of two and send them once in the morning, afternoon, evening, and night.” 

He nodded to himself, satisfied. “That sounds like a decent plan, you’re keeping your job for now. But don’t think I’ll forget about what you said earlier.”

You felt extremely relieved and grinned at him, “yessir. I apologize for that once again, it just-”

“Save it, you’re still on thin fucking ice… Don’t look at me like that, ya smiling freak. Your face is absolutely disgusting.” You dropped your smile and looked at your slightly scarred fingers. Light pink raised scars littered your skin in random amounts along your right arm, leading up your neck, and becoming the most concentrated on the entirety of the right side of your face. You avoided looking in the mirror, mostly out of anger because your appearance was a constant reminder of the stain your ‘brothers’ left on your life. You were still adjusting to having a blind spot in your vision, the eye having lost its sight and now a cloudy white color from the fireworks. Your eyelid on that side was permanently half-lidded, unable to open up fully even if you tried. 

You were fully aware that your appearance was… unsightly, to say the least, to everybody that looked at you (yourself included), but Schlatt was one that never cringed away from you. Hell, even Quackity (the mere mention of his name made icy betrayal wash over your entire body) avoided looking at you in the first few weeks of your injury. Schlatt was the one that loved you for who you were, scars and all, and you fucked it up. 

He squinted at you, his eyelids blocking everything with the exception of his rectangular pupils. A snort left his lips before he moved to leave you to your own devices. “I’ll inform the others of their new duties, get your paperwork done.” 

“Yessir.” 

You sat down at your desk chair with a sigh and rubbed at your aching cheeks before you picked up your pen and started on your paperwork. Well, it was yours with the exception of Schlatt’s thrown about occasionally in piles. The room was engulfed into an uncomfortable chill once more, he’s back. You honestly have no idea why he just keeps coming back to you or even if his pale spectre was just a stress induced hallucination. He just showed up in your office one day saying that he’s been looking everywhere for you. He acted and looked exactly like he did before he left, except his attitude was strangely chipper for someone that had an iron pickaxe buried deep within their forehead. 

“(Y/n), I’m back!” He sang, floating over to your desk. “Geez, that goat guy is a real jerk isn’t he?” His slightly glowing hand appeared in your vision and tried to pluck the pen out of your grasp. It swiped right through your hand, making you shiver at the uncomfortable feeling. “I’m still not used to that.”

You huffed and focused more on your paperwork. You could feel the chill getting closer, leading up to the point where he was directly behind you. The icy air gusted down your neck with every breath he exhaled. “Whatcha workin on?” He whispered in your ear. 

“Nothing that you need to worry about.” 

“So they speak! I was worried you went completely mute… Well, you did scream at me before, but I didn’t count that. That’s okay though, I knew I could get you to talk to me sooner or later. I’m irresistible, you remember how I was with the ladies.” 

“Fuck off.”

“No need to be so mean to me.” You focused on your paperwork again, furrowing your brows and trying to tune him out. “(Yyyyyyy/nnnnn), you can’t ignore little ole me forever.” 

“I can and I will.”

He gasped before laughter streamed from his lips, the sound being muffled since it was on your deaf side. “You just talked to me though! I think that’s a win for me. Do you remember when-”

“I swear to Ender, if another word comes out of your mouth I’ll make sure that the next pickaxe finds its home through your tongue and down your throat.” 

He was silent after that, leaving you to your paperwork. At least, that was until someone knocked on your office door. You sighed before plastering a smile on your face, “come in.” Your door opened to reveal the signature white smiley face mask, messy blond hair, and green hoodie.

Dream had been giving you small lessons on your swordsmanship lately, and you were getting better with each passing lesson. You were proficient on defense, so it was time for you to learn how to offensively attack. 

You saw that he placed an apple on your desk. You looked up at him in confusion. “What? You haven’t eaten anything all day, I don’t want you passing out or anything during our lesson.”

“Finally! Someone with actual sense around here! It’s so refreshing, isn’t it (y/n)? Well, it’s refreshing for me anyways.” 

Dream chuckled, “thank you.” 

Wait a damn minute.

Dream could hear him?!

Your pen froze mid sentence and rested on the paper, it’s ink pooling in one place. You slowly looked up at Dream, “you can hear him?” He looked at the teenager behind you before looking back at you, his head tilting. “Of course I can. He’s right there.” 

“Yeah (y/n), I’m right here. My name’s Lucius by the way, it’s nice to meet you!” He floated over to Dream and held out his hand, the pickaxe handle almost hitting the taller male in the chest. Dream stepped back slightly and nodded, “Dream. Eat that apple fast, we don’t have all day.” You snapped out of your stupor and grabbed the apple, taking absentminded bites while staring at your dead best friend talking animatedly to the masked man. 

So he was real after all. You were worried something might have actually been wrong with you for a moment! It was nice to know that you weren’t completely insane. 

“...meet (y/n)?” 

“Oh, I’m training them at the moment, would you like to watch?” 

“Yes! That sounds exciting, doesn’t it (y/n)?” The two looked at you expectantly, Dream’s head tilting slightly and Lucius smiling widely at you. You swallowed your bite and nodded, throwing the apple core into your trash bin. “...Yeah. Yeah it does. Uh, I’m going to get changed and then we can start our session.” 

After you got changed, you met with the two outside your door and walked out of the White House to the training grounds. The entire time you were walking, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from Lucius. Every time he would turn his head, the pickaxe would move with it. The crusted blood that emanated from the wound and splattered down his pale face was perhaps the darkest color on him with the exception of his jet black hair. 

In a strange way, it wasn’t the blood or the pickaxe protruding from his head that disturbed you the most; it was his eyes. Of course they still crinkled at the edges when he smiled, but it just wasn’t the same. The black eyes that were once so full of life were a dull gray with milky pupils. 

Other than the obvious pickaxe, blood, dead eyes, and constant glowing, he looked exactly like he did before he died. His baggy sweater, albeit mudstained and wrinkled, was still a salmon color with its signature pinstripes. The mop of straight black hair was still pulled into a bun with multiple unruly strands escaping the elastic and framing his face.

Before you knew it, a pale hand was waving in your face. “Earth to (y/n)! Oh good, you’re back to the land of the living! What’s wrong? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost. Well, I mean you were just staring at me, but my point still stands.”

You moved your gaze to the dirt path, “it’s nothing, I’ll tell you later.” He huffed, but didn’t say anything else to you for the rest of the trip. Instead, he was making small comments on your surroundings. 

Eventually, you were across from Dream on the training arena holding a wooden sword in front of you defensively. Lucius was sitting in the grass a little ways away from the painted boundaries with one foot over the other and his elbows resting on his knees propping his chin up. He was watching with an intensity he always had whenever you were doing something he deemed ‘dangerous’. To be fair, sparring with the most skilled member on the server was fairly dangerous.

“Let’s see if you remember what I taught you last time.” Without giving you a warning, he charged at you with his own wooden sword raised. Your sword clashed with his and you pushed against him. The mask moved upwards on his face slightly, “good, but always expect the unexpected.” 

With a simple sweep of his foot, you were on the ground gasping for air. You could faintly hear Lucius suck in air between his teeth before he shouted “you’re doing great, sweetie, but do better!”

Thanks, Lucius. Very motivating.

You rolled away from Dream’s foot before he could pin you to the floor. Your mind flashed back to when Techno- no. None of that, you need to focus. You got back onto your feet in the blink of an eye and dodged another blow. You used his momentum against him, stepping away at the right moment sending him skidding to a stop. 

Before long, he had you on the floor again with the tip of the sword pressing into your chest. He relaxed before helping you up, “you did better than I thought you would, but there were still some obvious flaws in what you did. Using my momentum against me was smart, but with what you did the opponent would recover fast. Here, let me show you how to properly do that.” 

You improved on a few things defensively and learned a few things offensively before the sun started to set and cast shadows on the surrounding forest. Dream shook your hand, “nice work today, you’re gonna rival even the best eventually.”

“You were great, (y/n)! I didn’t know you had it in you!” I didn’t have it in me when you were alive, you mentally corrected him. “Thanks, Lucius.” You glanced at him only to be met with his body phasing through yours in an attempted hug. He fell to the ground and rolled over, crossing his arms over his chest, “I’ll never get used to that.” 

Dream snorted before he shoved his hands into his pockets and started to nonchalantly walk back towards the White House. You and Lucius looked at each other before you ran to catch up with him. Lucius floated next to you, examining the dirt on your exposed arms and the forming bruises on your calves. He wrinkled his nose, “you really need a shower.” 

“Well I can’t exactly strip now and find a shower in the woods, can I Lucius?” 

“You just reek.”

“Yeah, you kinda do.”

“Thanks Lucius, Dream. Really feeling the love.” 

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[elysianslove]

PT 3 OF SUNA'S VIRGIN BOYFRIEND

been putting this one off cause i never get male!reader asks and this is one of my favorite “series” i’ve written but ,,, here it finally is 😁☝🏼 writing this in third person was,,, so difficult because the only way i could refer to suna’s bf is “boyfriend” “lover” and using pronouns but i didn’t wanna write second person cause it didn’t have that ,,, flare. anyways imma shut up i hope you all enjoy this!! <3 

warnings; virginity loss, anal fingering, anal sex, it’s pretty vanilla actually lol 

to be completely fair, suna should have expected it. after months of fooling around and teetering on the edge, never fully crossing that boundary but getting awfully close to, suna should have seen it coming. but just like every other time, he’s caught off guard, eyes widening and mouth parting slightly, his breath caught in his lungs. 

it’s in the middle of a very heated make out session that he asks him. he’s seated on suna’s lap, thighs spread and knees planted on the bed beneath them. his mouth presses harshly against suna’s, hands locked and tangled in his hair, twisting and pulling. suna’s breath-taken over just how much more confident the boy on his lap seems, how initiative falls more often in his hands, how tentativeness and carefulness gets thrown to the side so easily now, and he’s reminded again that he should have expected it. 

but he really, really couldn’t have anticipated the breathless way his boyfriend had gasped out, after leaning back to stare down at suna through careful eyes, “can we have sex?” 

suna’s brows furrow, and his hands squeeze at his lover’s waist. “i mean— sure?” he says, confusion laced in his voice. “you never really— ask?” his boyfriend sighs slightly, slumping his hold. in response, suna shifts, spreading his legs wider to sit up straighter, eyes locked on his. 

“no,” he sighs, and suna’s frown deepens. the hands in his hair fall, coming to rest lightly on his shoulders, and it’s then he realizes that his boyfriend’s shaking. it’s barely noticeable, but suna’s able to tell, especially with the way his eyes seem to try to, at all costs, avoid his. “i mean sex sex. i—” his hands squeeze at suna’s shoulders, and he swallows thickly, before finally steeling himself, building up the courage to look directly at suna as he confesses, “i want you to fuck me.” 

suna honest to god feels all the blood leave his head and go straight to his dick. 

his hands on his waist tighten, gripping rougher, more in a way to ground himself than anything, before suna mutters out, “you want me— inside of you?” he’s asking as if to make sure he heard him right, as if to properly process what he’d just heard. his boyfriend nods in confirmation, and suna finally breathes. “are you—”

“i’m sure,” he interrupts, all too quickly, enough to elicit a sheepish, teasing smile on suna’s lips. “please just— i trust no one but you. i trust no one more than you, and there’s nobody i can imagine doing this with.” 

“you’ve thought about this?” suna asks, and his boyfriend rolls his eyes, ease crawling back onto his skin, nervous energy dissipating. 

“of course i’ve thought about this, rin,” he replies, and he figures it’s the end of that, no more prodding and prying, but he’s on back before he can blink, suna hovering above him, much closer than he ever was. his hands are on either side of him, the muscles on his arms bulging as he keeps himself up, an unfamiliar glint in his eyes. 

“tell me,” he says, and the boy beneath him shivers. “tell me what you think about.” his tongue ties, and he stammers, while suna’s fingers find their way to the hem of his shirt, tickling the tiny strip of skin revealed, daring to inch upwards. “come on; tell me.” 

the moment suna’s hand finally presses flat against his stomach right beneath his shirt, he sighs, eyes fluttering shut as his lover above him leans over to press a kiss to his jaw. “i think about you, and— your hands.” 

suna hums, his mouth littering wet kisses down to his neck. “hmm, my hands?” 

his boyfriend nods, dizzyingly quick, and continues, “your fingers too.” suna hums again, in encouragement, his hand trailing further up and his mouth trailing down lower. “so long and thick— want you to— to fuck me with them. want them deep inside me. stretching me open for— ugh—” swallowing a low fuck, suna instead grins as he sucks hotly where his boyfriend had been so responsive. “—for you.” 

it’s all he needs, and a second later, suna’s sitting up, his hand leaving the warmth of his boyfriend’s tummy as he leans back, reaching for the back of the neck of his shirt, gripping and lifting it over his head. at the first sight of skin, his boyfriend inhales sharply, and it’s almost like the very first time they’d even dared to be close to one another. it’s not the first he’s seen of suna, and it definitely won’t be the last— at least suna hopes — but there’s something about tonight that makes this a thousand times more intimate. maybe it’s the knowledge of what it will all lead to, or the fact that this is what his lover wants it to lead to, that’s making everything as overwhelming as it is, especially for suna. 

urgently, his boyfriend strips himself of his own shirt, mirroring suna as they both slip out of their trousers and, timidly, following suit after suna removes his briefs. they’re both barely hard yet, but suna can feel the lust and want thrumming loudly in his veins. 

“baby,” suna sighs, falling forward to lean over his lover again. his boyfriend hums, nodding slowly as suna’s palm trails up to cup his cheek endearingly, a thumb brushing lightly at the skin. “are you sure you want to do this?” 

“rin—“ he starts to whine, but suna’s quick to cut him off. 

“no, i’m serious. this isn’t something you can decide in the heat of the moment,” he warns, his eyes sharp yet as soft as ever, trying his best to convey what he means to say. “i don’t want you to end up regretting it later, that you could’ve waited longer— and i don’t mind waiting. i don’t mind waiting forever for you.” 

his boyfriend sighs, a small smile painting his lips as his hand wraps around suna’s wrist, the same wrist attached to the hand cupping his face. “i’ve never been more sure about anything,” he promises, adding, “and i was serious when i said i’ve thought about this before. none of those other times felt right, but now... i’m ready, i promise.” 

suna decides he’s never been good with words, and kisses him instead. his lips meet his halfway as his lover lifts up to meet him, and it’s the most sensual kiss they’ve shared. it’s a million times more electric, a thousand times more passionate, and it’s as if everything they’ve ever felt and are feeling for one another is being poured into this one kiss. suna kisses him soft and slow, taking his time, because for once, they’re in no rush. for once, it really does feel like the world is stopping for them, almost as if in respect. he thanks the universe and kisses him harder. 

there’s blind fumbling in the drawers as suna reaches over, unprepared to break the kiss in any way while he searches for what he needs. unsurprisingly, he can’t find shit without his eyes, and breaks the kiss with an annoyed huff and groan. 

his boyfriend laughs lightly at him, to suna’s dismay, as he grabs at the necessary items, tossing onto the bed a bottle of lube and a condom. when he uncaps the bottle, suna starts, “just so you know,” he squeezes a generous amount onto his fingers, “you can back out any time you want.” he leans back, further away from his boyfriend, and presses his hand to his thigh, pushing at his legs to spread them. “i mean, any time.” 

the nod suna receives is strained, and his boyfriend’s thighs tense, his half hard cock lightly twitching as suna’s hand trails lower. 

“this is okay?” 

he nods again. 

“i need to hear you, baby.” to reinforce his statement, suna’s hand freezes where it is, awfully close to his boyfriend’s dick. 

his boyfriend nods again, mewling out a small, “yes, please, touch me,” that finally urges suna’s lube covered hand to press right where he needs him to, his other hand gripping at his inner thigh and keeping his legs open wide. 

testing the waters, suna’s fingers lightly circle his hole, massaging gently to cop a feel of how his boyfriend would recreate. when he sees the way his breath hitches, the way his hips twitch lightly and threaten to raise, he finally, finally, presses his pointer finger inside, taking it as slow as ever. the wet lube eases the slide, his boyfriend’s hole sucking him in hotly. suna leans heavier on the hand on his boyfriend’s thigh, trying his best to steel himself and not take him right then and there. 

god he could already feel his dick hardening. 

he starts to lightly finger him, not yet curling his finger or anything of the sort, simply trying to stretch him a little and get him used to the feel. “you’ll tell me if i need to stop?” suna asks, and he feels him clench down around him. 

“don’t stop, please,” his boyfriend begs. in response, suna simply chuckles. 

he spends a generous amount of minutes stretching him, adding a second finger to loosen him up more, squeezing out more lube when necessary, curling his fingers to heighten the experience. so far, his personal self control is impressing him, especially with how cute his boyfriend looks beneath him, cock hard and leaking, thighs and muscles twitching, mouth parted a little dumbly. he couldn’t wait to sink into him. 

although it feels like hours are passing, suna doesn’t slack off. he presses a third finger into his boyfriend’s hole and watches his wide, blown eyes as he arches deeply, head tossed back and hips pressing into the mattress, as if to urge suna’s fingers deeper inside of him. 

suna can really never get enough of his reactions. 

“rin, rin please,” he whines, hands grasping tightly at the pillow his head lays on. he thrashes beneath suna as suna curls his fingers again, pressing tightly against his prostrate, his other hand squeezing at his tense balls. “rin, i beg you, give me your cock, please.” 

“never deemed you a desperate guy, my love,” he teases, but his own cheeks are flushed and he’s sweating a little, his cock fully hard and brushing against his stomach with every harsh movement of his arm as he fucks his fingers faster into him. 

“rintarō,” his boyfriend gasps. “wanna cum with you inside of me.” 

unsurprisingly, suna’s sold. 

he twists and scissors his fingers for good measure, trying to ensure that his boyfriend’s properly stretched out, but in his lust induced haze, he can only pray he is. he’s quick to grab at his own dick, fisting and squeezing at it tightly, while his boyfriend manages to sit up, reaching for the discarded condom and unwrapping it. 

“put it on me?” suna offers, leaning back and taking his hand off his dick, despite how much it hurt to. 

his boyfriend’s trembling frame attempts to sit up straighter, and his eyes meet suna’s. “okay,” he stutters out, leaning closer and lower. his hands shake as he presses the condom against the tip of suna’s cock, before slowly sliding it down, all along his shaft. soon as it’s on, he breathes out, a little shakily. 

of course, suna notices, as he always does, and urges him to look up with a gentle nudge at his chin. “everything okay?” he softly asks. 

suna’s never been good with words, he repeats to himself, but he knows his eyes have always been a dead giveaway, if only one were to properly look. and he can trust his boyfriend to look. proving suna right, as soon as he reads through him, his boyfriend smiles, and grabs at suna’s forearms. 

“everything’s perfect,” he replies, and falls back onto the bed, taking suna with him. 

throughout the length of their relationship, suna’s taken many of his boyfriend’s firsts. he’s watched him become who he is today, watched him grow in confidence, especially sexually, and every single time had been more satisfying than the one before. this, however, is unlike anything else. this feels a thousand times more satisfying than anything he had ever, ever done with him. the amount of trust he’s placing onto suna, the amount of want and desire and need that’s within him to let him kiss all over his body and to let him sink fully inside of him, to take away something as special and as important as his virginity. 

suna can’t fathom, can’t comprehend, the fact that someone trusts him this much. and that that someone isn’t just anybody. 

“fuck,” he breathes out, finally bottomed out. his hips press against his boyfriend’s, his hands fisting the pillow beneath him. “fuck, you feel so good,” he praises, and in response, his boyfriend moans and sighs delightfully. 

“you— you feel so good too,” he admits, hands fumbling. “feel so full with you— with you inside of me.” 

“yeah?” suna encourages. 

“mhhmm.” he nods, brows furrowed deeply.

and when suna grinds his hips, somehow pushing himself even deeper, the boy beneath him cries out, back arching, just the way he wanted him to. he rolls his hips again, leaning closer and closer until their chests are pressed flush against one another, until he can feel his boyfriend’s cock, painfully hard, twitching between them, before he presses his lips against his.  

against his mouth, his boyfriend gasps, breathing him in. his legs lift to wrap around suna’s waist as his hole stretches and twitches to accommodate suna’s cock. “rin,” he starts, but he doesn’t know what he’s leading to. suna’s name is the only thing that feels right to say. 

suna doesn’t believe in fate, neither does he believe in coincidence. but maybe, maybe, just this once, he’ll believe in the universe, for it’s decision to find him this boy is one he’s forever grateful for.  

“i love you,” suna finally says, and doesn’t give him a chance to respond before he’s pulling out, and pressing back in suddenly, leaving all but a gasp on his lover’s lips. 

EXTRA SCENE: 

“you loveeee me?” 

their bodies are a mess of sweat and cum, evidence of the multiple rounds of love-making— much to suna’s chagrin, that really was love-making, so really, maybe suna was a virgin too in a sense—

“shut up.” 

his boyfriend laughs, gleefully, and suna genuinely can’t hide the smile it paints on his lips. “yeah but why did you admit it mid sex, rin? like some coming of age movie?” 

suna rolls his eyes, still smiling unfortunately, and shifts on the bed, rolling over onto to his side to have his back facing his boyfriend instead. unsurprisingly, sticky arms make their way around him, and a wet pair of lips press against the back of his neck as legs tangle with his. against all odds, he sighs, relaxing and leaning into the touch behind him. 

his boyfriend kisses his shoulder, and then mutters right by his ear, “i love you too, by the way. if you hadn’t already figured,” and suna’s heart jumps right into his throat. 

this was so longggg but i really really hope you guys like it, because it took me an embarrassingly long time <//3 and also because i’m proud of it. and also because i just wanna make you guys happy :) anyways luv u all hope you have amazing days ahead of you mwah <3 

[3d-wifey]

Temptation Sings

Pairing: Ryūnosuke Tanaka x Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Smut, fluff, senpai kink, p*rn watching, implied bisexual reader, excessive use of the word "babe" & some curse words

A/N: The senpai kink is sort of one-sided, but what kink isn't 💀 and the title is sort of based off a lyric from Super Freak by Rick James. Also, those are actual lines from a Hentai, but I fucking lost it half way through so I had to improvise. Anyway, this is over 3,000 words of straight dog water. Enjoy!

Synopsis: You ride Tanaka while watching hentai

"What kind of porn do you watch?"

"What?" Tanaka let out a quick bark of laughter before staring at you with wide eyes. His hand was frozen over the bowl of popcorn as he turned his full attention to you. The two of you had been dating for over a year now, yet, you've never had sex.

Sure, there had been some over the clothes stuff before. Some tops off heavy petting, some groping while making out, but it had never progressed past that. Not for a lack of trying, of course. Anytime you could find time to hang out alone, something would always interrupt you.

You weren't a virgin, but you didn't have much experience, so, naturally, you were more than a little nervous. And Tanaka, bless his soul, was pretty understanding. As long as you two could still make out and he could grab your ass, he seemed fine. But, he's still a teenage boy, no matter how respectful. He could only handle being blue balled so many times. And you wholeheartedly felt the same way.

This seemed like the best way to go about it. Establishing a common interest in what you both liked to get the ball rolling.

"Porn. I know you watch it, Ryuu. So...what kind?" You sat up on your side of the bed and leaned against the headboard, knowingly making him eye level with your breast. Nothing wrong with a little incentive.

"Okay, wow. You're serious. Um," he stuttered, eyes flickering over your chest and back to your eyes, before a blush settled flooded his cheeks, "You're just gonna laugh." He moved his gaze over to the movie playing on the laptop, avoiding eye contact. Was he embarrassed? He should know by now that you didn't judge.

You wouldn't be dating him if you did.

"I promise I won't laugh, baby. Look, I'll go first," you moved the bowl of popcorn off his lap and grabbed his hands to pull him up, "Pay attention."

"Wha–"

"There's Amateur, Lesbian," you ignored his questioning look and kept going, "Creampie, Fingering, Solo male and female, Public, and Taboo. That's all I can think of off the top of my head. You like any of that?"

He stared at you slack-jawed. Had you been too forward? You thought if you were honest about it, you both could be comfortable with each other. You watched in anticipation as he moved his gaze from you to the ceiling.

"Thank you, God," he whispered, almost on the verge of tears, "I must truly be blessed."

"Are you serious, Ryuu," you scoffed, hitting his arm to hide how relieved you really were, "You made me anxious for nothing!"

"That is so hot, babe," he grinned excitedly, moving to sit on his knees with his legs folded under him, "All that stuff sounds cool, and we're definitely gonna come back to that lesbian thing later, but I usually just watch...Hentai." He cleared his throat, scratching his cropped hair.

You pulled the laptop over to you and paused the movie playing. Pulling up the browser, you typed "Hentai" in the search bar, and hesitated for a second.

Hentai. Of course, it was hentai. You weren't surprised in the least that he got off to cartoon characters fucking. In fact, you expected it. You knew what you were getting into when you agreed to date him. You briefly wondered what kind he watched before it hit you.

Oh, yeah, you thought, he'd like that.

"What are you doing, babe?" He questioned. You paid his nervous laughter no mind as you queued up the perfect video. You were a genius.

_

"Are you okay with this, Kasuri?"

"I've been telling you that it's okay!"

You watched as the small girl pushed the boy on the ground and climbed on his hips to straddle him backward. To your complete surprise, you were actually kind of invested in the plot. Sure, some of the lines made you cringe and the ethics behind the sister trying to fuck her brother were a bit iffy, but, somehow, it was keeping you entertained.

The less than spectacular writing didn't seem to be affecting Ryuu any. With how much he jerked off to this kind of stuff, you figured he was probably used to it.

"I want you to take it...take me Senpai."

You felt Tanaka stiffen up beside you before quickly relaxing. Well, more like you felt him force himself to relax. You watched out of the corner of your eye as he subtly, or as subtle as Tanaka could be, adjusted himself in his sweats.

He was trying very hard to hide how much the video was affecting him; however, you always found Tanaka easy to read. The furrow of his brows, the twitch of his muscles, the restless tapping of his fingers along his thigh—all of it was effortlessly understood like the words of a well-loved book.

He was holding himself back for some reason that you couldn't find the effort in yourself to figure out, but he wasn't the only one affected.

"You have to tell me what you like. You have to teach me, senpai."

There was that stiffening again.

You placed your hand high on his tense thigh, completely ignoring the eyes burning into the side of your face. Unlike Ryuu, you were a fantastic actor. You decided you would wait for him to fully relax, or be as relaxed as any teenage boy could be while watching porn before you would strike.

You waited for the moment his leg softened under your hand and oddly enough it was at the point in the video where they showed a very detailed shot of the boy coming inside of the girl. He probably thought it was ending soon. Little did he know you were going in for the kill.

You cuddled further under his arm before you looked up at him with imploring eyes.

"Do you wanna do that...with me, senpai?"

It was just like any other kink, you rationalized. It was on par with the guys who were into being called 'Daddy' or 'Sir' or some other title. It didn't do anything for you, but if your magnificent hunk of a boyfriend got turned on by being called senpai, you were more than happy to go along with it.

"Well?" You prompted when he said nothing and gawked at you like a test he didn't study for.

"What did you call—is this—are we actually about to—" His wide eyes switched between you and the computer screen before deciding you were far more entertaining.

Instead of answering his stammering, you rose to your knees to pull the sundress over your head. You unhooked your bra and threw it off the bed with no regard for where it landed. It was a shame it wasn't one of your cuter ones, but you doubted Ryuu cared.

Your hands paused on the waistband of your panties when you realized he was frozen beside you, eyes flickering over your body like he didn't know where he should look.

"Am I gonna be the only one naked?" You would have thought he was on the court with how fast he jumped off the bed.

You watched from his bed as he struggled to get out of his clothes. It was adorable how excited he was, but he wasn't the only one. You've been waiting nearly thirteen months for this and you were practically vibrating out of your skin.

You were content to watch him almost bust his ass as he tried to get his sweats off when you remembered something.

"We don't need a condom. I'm on birth control." You started birth control years ago to handle your irregular periods, but it also came with the added benefit of Ryuu being able to cream you like a Twinkie.

He stared at you for a second with a blank face before closing his eyes with his hands clasped together...almost like he was praying? You heard him whisper something suspiciously along the lines of him being blessed before he practically bounded up to you like a hyper puppy

Probably not the best analogy to be made in your current situation, but it was true! He was bouncing on the balls of his feet and shaking his hands out like he always did before a match. You briefly wondered if he ever did this before. He never told you if he got this far with any of his exes and you never asked.

At that moment, you decided it didn't matter what he did before because you would be the best he ever had.

Your hands shot forward to pull his underwear down before pausing.

"Is... Is this okay?" You asked, hands hovering over his boxer briefs. For the first time during the entire affair, you were hesitant. What if you were pushing too fast? You hadn't exactly asked anything. You just gave out demands and he followed. You wouldn't be able to live with yourself if you ended up pressuring him into this.

"I—," he stopped, staring down at you with wide eyes and for a split second, your heart stopped, "Are you kidding, babe? God, yes, it's okay!"

You honest to God giggled when you pulled him onto the bed with you and clamored onto his lap, like the stereotypical school girl. You calmed yourself down enough to just look at him. The way he gazed at you with a year's worth of pent-up desire made slick dampen the seat of your panties.

"You're just—you're beautiful. God, I love you so so much," the sincerity in his voice was amplified by the goofy grin he gazed up at you with and the blush on the apples of his tan cheeks, "you know that, right?"

One look at Ryuu and even a blind man could see how much he loved you. It was a good thing his feelings were mutual or it'd be pretty embarrassing.

"I love you too, idiot," your hand settled on the back of his close-cropped head to pull him into a kiss. And in typical Tanaka fashion, he kissed you like you were the only thing keeping him alive. He kissed like his only goal was to leave you as breathless as you made him. And he always succeeded.

"Now," you took a deep breath, "are you gonna fuck me, senpai?"

The groan he let out against your lips was more than enough of an answer for you.

You rushed to pull your panties off, thanking whoever was watching over you that it wasn't one with holes or bleach stains on it.

You reached to pull him out of his boxers, but he beat you to it. It gave you pause how he whipped it out like it was nothing to gawk at.

A little over half the length of your forearm, his dick was nothing to scoff at. He was the same width as your wrist with a thick vein running up the underside of his shaft.

Not the first dick you've seen but by far the biggest. Your heart rate picked up as you thought of the logistics of how he'd even fit inside you. You'd probably have trouble with just the tip.

You pulled the foreskin back to see precum already collecting at the angry red head. He jerked when you took the heavy weight of his dick into your hand and you could barely wrap your fingers around him. You didn't think he'd be so sensitive but you called yourself thankful for it. Easier to tease.

You rubbed his tip against the opening of your pussy and pulled away, strings of slick still connecting you. You repeated the action a few times before taking pity on your poor boyfriend. You used his quiet moans as motivation as you pushed his head past your tight hole.

You hissed at the unexpected stretch. The burn veering on the side of uncomfortable, but not painful. You couldn't tell if it was because of how long it had been since the last time you had sex with anyone or if it was because of the sheer size of him.

You decided it was the latter as you tried to take more of him.

"Here," you grabbed one of his thumbs and rubbed it over your clit in quick circles. The callused pad pleasurably rough against the slick covered bud. Luckily, he caught on quickly and kept up the pace as you tried to sink further down. The ache in your walls added to the pleasure on your clit.

You sighed once you finally reached the base. You hadn't expected this much effort would go into just taking him.

He was panting hard, eyes closed and struggling to hold still enough to let you adjust.

"Okay," you breathed, "okay." You slowly rose to your knees and peeked at his dick as it came out coated with your slick, before driving yourself back down with a moan. You settled your hands on his shoulders as you picked up a rhythm.

"You're such a badass, babe," he praised and you would have laughed if him shoving himself into you, thrust for thrust, didn't fuck a series of moans out of you.

You peppered quick kisses against his lips as you drove yourself up and down. You ran the tip of your tongue along his bottom lip before nipping at it. He eagerly took the hint and opened his mouth to you. You swallowed his groans as your hand slid up to the front of his neck and squeezed, tongues pressing together in an openmouthed kiss.

When you pulled away, his eyes flickered between your bouncing breasts, where his dick split you open, and your lidded eyes.

"I've dreamed of this for so long," you moaned as his hand resumed its motion on your sensitive clit. How he was able to piece together coherent sentences was beyond you, "Wanted you so bad, baby. So. Bad."

The headboard slammed into the wall as you sped up your pace. You were lucky you two were the only ones in the house.

"That's right, babe. Bounce on Senpai's dick. Fuck," he cursed, voice cracking when you swiveled your hips, "You like that, don't you? My pretty girl." You didn't want to admit it, but the senpai thing was really doing it for you. Not the actual word, but the sheer affect it had on him.

You can't say you were surprised by how talkative he was, his dirty words dripping over your overheating body like rich syrup. If you knew watching porn would lead to this, you would have done it ages ago.

His big hands used his grip on your ass to rock you back and forth at a faster pace. You relaxed your legs and let him take the lead, pulling his head towards your chest. The animated girl's moans on the computer combined with Tanaka's and created a harmony that pushed you closer to your release.

You moaned freely into his neck as the change of positions dragged your swollen clit over his pelvis with every buck of your hips. Sweaty bodies pushing and pulling against each other in a motion that was more grinding than riding.

Wet and sticky slaps echoed around the room, punctuated by the meat of your ass meeting his wet thighs. Thighs made wet by your juices collecting at the base of his cock.

Your release bubbled low in your stomach, steadily being pushed higher with every one of Tanaka's sloppy thrusts. It pulled heavily from below your naval, expanding to the point where you felt like you could burst. You weren't a virgin—this wasn't your first time, but, God, it felt like it was. And it might as well be your first time with how sensitive he made you.

You were sweaty and you were sore and so, so completely overwhelmed. But your mind was wonderfully cloudy with the pleasurable haze of an incoming orgasm and it made it hard to care.

"You close, babe?" You whimpered out a weak yes as his lips trailed from your jawline down to your damp neck before sucking on the skin.

"Can feel you squeezing me. So damn tight." He panted against your heaving breasts.

You knew it was coming, but knowing and feeling were too different things. Your thighs burned with fatigue, but you couldn't stop. You were so close and the humid air blurred out everything that wasn't Ryuu's cock plunging against that spongy patch on your wall and you didn't want it to end.

He couldn't take his eyes off of you as you used him for your pleasure. Head thrown back and skin gleaming with sweat.

"Shit, I'm-" he grunted at the tightening grip your walls had on him, just begging him to cum, "Fuck, 'M not gonna last, babe." His hips twitched uncontrollably as he rammed into you.

The knot in your stomach built and built before suddenly loosening, your vision blanking completely. Not that you could tell with how far back your eyes rolled. Hands shooting forward to desperately cling onto him as you trembled. Nails digging into his tense biceps, a mantra of his name falling from your lips like a prayer. Your thighs shook as you rode yourself past the sensitivity.

And that's what does it for him, your impossibly tight heat clamping down on him. Tender balls pulled taut against his body as the white ring of cum coating his cock grew with every one of your thrusts down.

The only sound that escaped him was your name broken by his breathy moans.

Once you came back around, you're still dazed with cooling sweat gathering on both of your bodies. The air is still clammy and you were sore from your neck to your thighs but it didn't stop you from looping your arms around Ryuu's neck.

He gathered you into his warm chest, heavy arms locked around your waist.

"So," he huffed, "lesbian porn, huh?"

"Shut up, Ryuu."

[sabraeal]

Consider: Obi is green-red color blind

A Color by Any Other Name

Written for @aeroplaneblues for a surprise birthday gift! Many months ago she mentioned wanted to see a colorblind Obi, and I said, WELL WHAT A GOOD EXCUSE TO WRITE THIS PROMPT JOANNA GAVE ME. I hope your birthday is a good one, filled with a lot more nice surprises!

“Are you ever going to introduce me to your guard friends?” Suzu asks around a mouthful of dumpling. “Or are you embarrassed?”

To say Obi is unprepared, would be an understatement; there’s a pork bun lodged between his teeth, his gloves not only coated in pig grease but also far less effective against steam than he’d thought they’d be back when he’d just grabbed a plump little blob off the stall. He’d laughed off Suzu’s concerns about protective equipment; after all, if smiths use leather gloves, they’ve got to be just as good as an oven mitt.

They aren’t. Not to mention the roof of his mouth starting to have a real good think about peeling off and having a vacation. Maybe even with someone who doesn’t eat entire dumplings straight from the basket.

“Wha?” he manages eloquently, nearly drooling spicy meat drippings onto the street.

“I know I’m not cool like they are,” Suzu continues, warming to his new thesis. If his sudden flush of confidence is any measure, he’s spent more of time composing his arguments for this than Obi’s ever seen him work on his actual defense. “And I’m no good with a sword. Or fists. Or really any implement that isn’t a scalpel, and any opponent that isn’t already anesthetized. But I am very smart.”

There’s a thoughtful pause before Suzu adds, “Some people do enjoy that, you know.”

What Obi knows is that this kid tried this conversation on for size in front of Yuzuri, and she didn’t even bother to warn him as a courtesy. See if he buys her any more meat-on-sticks when she’s ‘left her purse in the lab’ now.

“That’s not--” he takes a hurried minute to swallow-- “not what’s happening. I didn’t...”

Even know you knew I didn’t work for the pharmacy. His teeth clamp shut around that winner, and its friend, I didn’t think you lot would want to hang out with a bunch of men without degrees. Not only would that encourage Suzu to make a scene right here, right now, but if it got back to Jirou-- well, if he thought Suzu could turn any day into a disaster, the lieutenant would make that seem like a vacation.

“I didn’t think you wanted to,” he settles on instead. Similar enough in feel, if...creatively edited. “You scholar types tend to flock together.”

“Well, sure,” Suzu murmurs, stymied, “but we’re friends too, aren’t we? If all my friends are your friends, then all your friends should be my friends.”

Only an academic could talk about arithmetic with that amount of confidence, especially the kind that involved transitive properties and letters, and all sorts of things that made Obi’s head spin.

“Well,” he hums, one boot scratching his calf. “You would know.”

Suzu whirls on him, staring down his long fox-snout of a nose. “You mean it? You’ll really...?”

“Sure. If that’s what you want.” He twitches his shoulders, more casual than he feels. “It’s fine if it’s you.”

There’s always been a lazy lilt to Suzu’s eyes, but it disappears now, all the sleepiness gone to surprise. “Me? You wouldn’t want to bring anyone else?”

“Well, definitely not Kazaha.” The glares he’d get bringing that twiggy pedant into the guardhouse might be enough to drop him dead on the spot. “And Yuzuri would be too popular.”

Suzu grimaces. “The number of admirers she’d get from a wink alone...she’d be unlivable.”

He can see it now, her ponytail bobbing with a buoyant glee, giggling through every painstaking penned line from her fan club-- “Think of all the bad poetry.”

“Honestly, that might make it worth it. At least I’ll feel better about not knowing the difference between a quartet and a quatrain.” Suzu takes a thoughtful bite of him bun. “And you couldn’t bring Shirayuki, of course.”

“Right.” Not a one of them could be trusted to keep their lips sealed; she’d hardly have to take a breath and someone would call her Obi’s lady, or ask how they met, or whether she’s still Mistress behind closed doors--

But Suzu wouldn’t know any of that. “Wait, why?”

“Well...” He has the grace to look chagrined about it, whatever it is. “You know. Her hair...?”

“Oh.” Obi shrugs. “Sure, I guess.”

“You guess?” Suzu stares. “Shirayuki has a non-zero amount of stories about being kidnapped for looking like a candied apple, and you guess there might be a fuss about bringing her ‘round to the guardhouse?”

“Well, none of you acted weird about it,” he snips, hiding his annoyance behind a bite of dumpling. “There’s no reason they will.”

“Of course no one at Lilias acted weird, Obi!” he squawks, arms flailing as he talks. “You couldn’t pay them to look at anything but their own project. But when a bunch of normal men with eyes and, uh, other working appendages see a cute girl with red hair and a soft voice, they’re gonna go crazy!”

His palm hooks around his shoulder, thumb digging into the hard knot at his collarbone. “Aw, come on. It’s not that special.”

“Not that--?” Suzu whips around, eyes round as dumplings. “Obi, she’s the only person I’ve ever seen with red hair.”

“You don’t get out much,” Obi deadpans. “No offense.”

“That’s not--” Suzu grunts, throwing up his hands-- “She’s the only person anyone’s ever seen with red hair!”

“Her dad’s is kind of red.” That observation wins him an unimpressed look, one that says you’re missing the point. “And Yuzuri had blue hair when I met her. That’s way more interesting--”

“It was dyed!” Suzu wobbles over to a wall, sitting with his head in his hands. “Shirayuki has a hair color so rare that the birth records in Clarines haven’t noted it in more than fifty years! And you think Yuzuri dying her hair with woad is more impressive.”

“Well, even her natural color is brighter than Miss’s. Not--” he waves a hand between them, quelling-- “that Miss’s hair isn’t nice enough. But I’d think that people would pay more attention to that.”

“...Brighter?” Suzu murmurs after a long moment, stilted. “Obi, could you tell me what color that sign is, right over there?”

“The one for the tea shop?” He wrinkles his nose. “Why--?”

“Just...indulge me for a moment.”

“All right.” He squints up at the moon cresting over a wolf’s head. “Blue.”

“Right, and, um, that coat over there.”

“Yellow.”

“Right.” Suzu’s voice is tight, stressed. “And what I’m wearing?”

Obi squints. This one’s a little harder, but he’s confident when he says, “Green.”

“Ah, right.” Suzu stands, a unsteady on his feet. “That would explain that, then.”

Obi blinks. “Explain what?”

“Obi,” Suzu begins, with all the gravitas of both a grim prognosis and a terrible joke. “You can’t see colors.”

*

It’s not the first time Obi’s played hound to his prey’s fox, but there’s something distinctly unsettling about it being Suzu that leaves him lagging behind, unsure of himself. Especially with the way he scurries through the concourse, bounding toward the mess hall with this idea caught between his teeth like chicken feathers.

“I can see colors just fine,” Obi informs him with far less confidence than he’d like. “Some of them are just hard to tell apart. Weren’t you and Yuzuri arguing yesterday about whether salmon is orange or pink?”

Suzu waves a hand at him, dismissive. “That’s different. Salmon’s both orange and pink, and what color it looks most like has to do with the composition of your eye-- and it’s pink by the way, with orange undertones--”

Between the two of them, Obi knows who he’d trust to know their colors. “Uh-huh.”

“You can’t make out red and green, which is different entirely, and--” the doors to the mess burst open beneath his hands, a noise lost in the din of a hundred scholars trying to share the same table-- “YOU GUYS WON’T BELIEVE WHAT I JUST FOUND.”

The whole of Shidan’s lab-- minus the man himself-- have taken up right by the door, bags and coats piled to save them their places on the bench. Suzu makes short work of the pile on his seat, haphazardly shoving them to the floor as he sits.

Kazaha peers at him and ventures mildly, “A new way to avoid finishing your thesis?”

“No,” Suzu hums between his grit teeth, “but I have found out--”

“I don’t think we need to do this,” Obi murmurs, handing Miss her muffler. “It’s not--”

“Obi,” he intones with far more gravitas than his name has ever strictly deserved, “can’t see colors.”

“Not at all?” Kazaha turns those sharp eyes to him, like he’s a specimen under glass. “Just black and white?”

“I can see just fine,” Obi huffs, tossing Yuzuri her coat before he slides onto the bench, knee knocking into Miss’s in a way that puts his heart through its paces. “Suzu is just making a mountain out of a molehill.”

“Is that so?” he hums with a grin. “Then what color is Shirayuki’s hair?”

He stifles a sigh. It’s best to put all this to bed now, before he’s stuck playing what’s this color for the next two years. “Red.”

“What’s the point of this?” Yuzuri yawns, already bored. Obi shoots her a grateful look, glad that at least one of them isn’t going to play Suzu’s game.

It’s too bad he’s already puffed up with unearned confidence, like an evolutionist at a botany lecture. “And what’s the color of Ryuu’s cloak?”

He knows it by heart-- how could he not, when the two most important people in this city wear matching ones-- but still Obi glances up, anticipating a trick. Ryuu stares back, confused and guileless. “Blue.”

“Great, good.” Suzu’s grin stretches from ear to ear. “Now what color is your scarf?”

Obi’s fingers knot in the fabric, the weft tickling the pads of his fingers. “Well, it’s...sort of reddish, isn’t it?”

This is the wrong answer.

“It makes so much sense,” Yuzuri murmurs in wonder. “You really don’t know how ugly Suzu’s outfits are. That’s why you still hang out with him.”

“Hey!” Suzu pouts. “That’s not very nice.”

“No, that has nothing to do with color, it’s the cut.” Anxiety spikes through him. “But wait, it is red isn’t it? My scarf?”

“No,” Miss murmurs at his side, cheeks flushes. “Obi, it’s...it’s green.”

He stares down at it, trying to imagine what that might look like. “Green.”

“It looks very nice on you!” Her small fingers wrapping in the fur at his elbow. “It’s your color, really.”

“Oh, sure,” he murmurs, faint. “I guess it matches my eyes.”

“Hey, what do you mean ‘it has nothing to do with the color?’“ Suzu’s hands fly to his hips, brows drawn tight over the long line of his nose. “My clothes are just fine.”

“They aren’t.” Obi leans in next to him, grin feeling thinner than it should. “But I hang out with you anyway, which means you know we’re really friends.”

Kazaha rubs at his chin, where his ode to Shidan’s goatee is failing to thrive. “You know what this also explains?”

Obi blinks. “What?”

“All the black.”

It’s not Kazaha that says it, oh no. That would be too merciful for a mortifying moment out of his life. Instead it’s low and feminine, and when Miss Kiki leans out from the other side of Miss, it’s like a siren emerging from the depths, teeth bared to tear a man to shreds. “What an interesting thing I’ve learned today.”

“Miss Kiki! How--?” He gulps. “Why--?”

“I came to deliver a message from Wirant,” she drawls, too pleased. “And it seems I’ve earned myself a fine tip.”

“No,” he breathes. “You can’t-- you’re not going to tell Master, are you? Or Sir?”

“Oh,” she hums, looking particularly hungry for manflesh. “I certainly will.”

*

“Oh, there there.” Miss pats his back, the sensation lost among the dozen layers of clothing between them. “I’m sure Kiki won’t tell them, not until you’re ready! You asked her not to.”

“I think that just means,” Obi mutters, voice muffled by his arms and the wall he’s throwing himself over, “that she’ll just enjoy telling them more.”

“Ah...” He doesn’t need to see her to know her grimace. “Yes, that’s...probably right.”

He lets out a heavy, dramatic sigh. It helps a little. So does a bit of flailing.

“They won’t make a big deal out of it,” Miss says, changing tack. “It hardly changes anything! I’m sure they’ll just forget as soon as she tells them.”

He peeps one eye over his elbow. “That’s easy for you to say, you haven’t spent the last half an hour playing What’s That Color.”

“Well,” she wheedles, “they are scholars.”

Obi groans, loud and long, which doesn’t help; but it echoes out over the rooftops, returning back to him, which does.

“How...?”

Miss hesitates, a gloved finger pressed to her lips. He sighs, already braced for the onslaught-- how didn’t you know? how did you go so long without knowing your colors? how do you find people if you can’t even tell what hair color they have--?

“How did you notice?”

Obi lifts his head, unblinking. “What?”

“How did you notice?” Miss repeats, more firmly this time. “You’ve spent your whole life this way, haven’t you? It must have taken something really special to realize there was more than what you see.”

“Uh.” It’s nice that it’s darker here, that it’s cold. He has perfect legitimate reasons to be flushed. “Well, it was Suzu really. He mentioned that--” his teeth clamp down around his words, not letting them out without a hasty edit-- “that people think your hair’s pretty special, and I said I didn’t get why...”

Miss stiffens beside him, a statue that breathes, and he hastily adds, “Not that you aren’t special, Miss. It’s just, the red...”

“Right.” The words comes out stilted, strange. “You can’t see it. You actually...haven’t ever seen it.”

A silence settles on them like a wool blanket; not one of those nice ones at the castle, or the fleecy ones Miss stockpiles like one day the North might run out of sheep, but the itchy, coarse-woven ones of his childhood. Uncomfortable and smelling faintly of animal.

“So,” he coughs, fixing his gaze out over the city. “What did Kiki want?”

“Oh...” Miss shifts, mouth pulling into a guilty grimace. “She came to tell me that the Queen Dowager has invited me to dinner. Tomorrow night.”

His brows raise. “Well, well.”

“Don’t,” she murmurs, head giving the barest shake. “It’s not like that.”

“Are you sure?” He shouldn’t press, but if he doesn’t, no one else will. “After you told Master--”

“I told him a list of reasons why I thought I would be a better ally as a friend, and not as a...” Miss loses steam, letting her words sigh into the air. “I’d like to believe this has to do with my work with Phostyrias.”

He watches her, careful. “But do you?”

“I don’t know,” she says, which is as good as any no.

*

Obi’s barely stepped into the Protector’s solar when Master asks, “What color is my jacket?”

His head swivels, delivering a glare so flat carpets would be jealous. Miss Kiki only hums, shoulder lifting in a disinterested shrug. “I said I was going to tell them.”

Fair enough.

“It’s blue,” he deadpans, flopping onto the cushiest divan. He’s too long for it, his boots spilling off one arm a idling over the floor. “Apparently I can see that one just fine.”

According to Miss, at least; she’d unearthed a slip of a book from the university’s library, outlining the limits of his sight. Little Ryuu had pored over it for a day before showing up at his door, flushed faced and nervous.

Garrack always told me I had nice eyes, he’d admitted, lingering at the threshold. I was hoping you could see them.

Cross as he is about the whole thing, Obi can’t regret that. He might not have Miss’s hair, or Suzu’s coat-- thankfully-- but Ryuu’s eyes would always look true to him.

“But not red.” Master’s mouth twitches, far too entertained. “Or green.”

“I do see them,” he protests. “They just...don’t look very different to me.”

Just another shade of yellow and brown, if those books are right. Which they are, since he’d always thought so. Subtly different, like the way Suzu and Yuzuri fought over salmon, or Master and Miss Kiki would dither over chartreuse. Just enough that he’d been able to eke by on keeping his mouth shut and a fondness for black.

Still, there’s nothing worse than finding out something new about yourself this late in the game. Especially when--

“What about the curtains?” Master inquires. “Can you see those?”

--Especially when it’s so endlessly entertaining to everyone else. “I can see them,” he grumbles, sinking further into the cushions. “Just because I can’t see some colors doesn’t mean I’m blind.”

“Then what about the note?”

Obi rolls his gaze to where Sir perches at his desk. “Huh?”

“To our red-haired guest.” Sir coughs, a flush working its way up his neck. “It’s just-- you wrote that.”

“Oh, His Grace told me that one.” A lifetime ago, it seemed. “‘The red-haired girl, you’ll know her when you see her, I’m sure.’“

Master winces. Obi can admit his talent doesn’t lie with impressions, especially ones of dour old men.

“Right,” Sir presses, voice oddly tight. “But you don’t see-- I mean, how could you find a girl that looks just like everyone else?”

“Ah...” He grimaces, scrubbing at the top of his head. “Well, I just looked for the girl who didn’t belong. It--” he hesitates, suddenly aware of Master’s eyes on him-- “didn’t take very long.”

Master’s frown belongs above one of those prie-dieu, to remind penitents that forgiveness isn’t absolute. “What is that supposed to--?”

“So what does she look like?” No one could say that after a decade of dedication, Miss Kiki doesn’t know how to do her job; she deflects Master’s brewing sour mood with the ease of a professional. “What does her hair look like to you?”

“Uh.” He clears his throat, tugging at his collar. “I wasn’t lying when I said I bought my scarf to match...”

There is a stillness to the room that is too much, too pitiful. Much as he hated it, Obi would much rather be a joke than a charity case.

“Huh,” Sir grunts, gaze still fixed to his neck. “Now I wonder what we all look like to you.”

“Well, I sort of wonder what you all look like to yourselves.” Obi let a sigh float wistfully through his lips. “At least I know that me and Miss still have the same eyes.”

There’s silence again, but this one buzzes, filled with words no one dares to say.

“What?” he laughs, nervous, pulling himself upright. “Don’t we?”

Sir grimaces. “Ah, Obi...”

*

Miss is quiet when they walk the walls home that night, the winter stillness making the silence and heavy as any drift. Her mouth is pursed, not with anything like anger, but something closer to consideration. As if there’s words back there she’s sorting through, trying to compose a thought that just won’t come.

Well, she should know: she won’t get anywhere if she doesn’t air a few of them out to look at. “Something wrong, Miss?”

She blinks, shaken out from wherever she gone away. Her mind palace, maybe. Suzu’d told him about those once, with busts and painting and curtained alcoves. What she’d do with a place like that, he couldn’t imagine, but if anyone asked, he’d put his money on hers having apothecary drawers instead, and gardens too. The kind with half crumbled walls, ivies curled around every stone. Cluttered desks piled high with books, and one of them with curtain drawn to let its owner nap the afternoon away.

“Oh,” she breathes, finally. “No, no. Nothing’s, um, wrong. I was just...thinking.”

He lifts a knowing brow. “So something is wrong.”

“That’s not what I said,” she informs him, primly. “I was going over my meeting with Haruto, and...”

Her lips snap shut around the words, distress narrowing her eyes. “And...?”

“She didn’t know about my work,” Miss huffs, arms wrapping tight around her chest. “Or, she did, but only what Zen had told her. Which...”

Was far less than the whole of it. He’d heard that part of her argument that night, try as he might not to. “So she invited you as Zen’s ally?”

“No.” The word is colder than any he’s ever heard fall from her lips. “That I wouldn’t mind-- I’m still trying to be his ally, after all, and if she saw me as an asset...” She shook her head. “No, she wanted to meet his...paramour, even if she didn’t say as much.”

Obi grimaces.

“And even that wouldn’t be so bad if...” Miss took a deep, steeling breath. “When I came in, after all the curtsies and pleasantries, she said, your hair is just as red as he said it was.” Her knuckles are white where they wrap around her elbows. “All those years, all those letters, and the only thing he thinks to tell his mother is that my hair...”

The rest is lost in a sigh, a cloud of mist swirling off the wall.

“It must really be something,” Obi deadpans, gaze following it off the edge. “Since it makes all these people forget how smart you are.”

She’s watching him; he can feel it as she sidles up to where he stands, hands unclenching from her arms and splaying on the crenellations instead. “Obi, you really can’t...?”

Miss hesitates, falls silent. He lets her; she’s put enough words in the air to sort through, and now all she needs is time. Obi’s happy to give it to her.

Especially since there’s a rabbit down there in the dark. A small one, moving slow, hind legs churning like clockwork winding up. It’s nose digs into the snow, snuffling around, searching--

“Can you really see better?” Miss asks, startling him back to the wall. “In the dark, I mean. That book said you could.”

“Well, after the past couple days, I’m a little shaky on what’s normal.” He jerks his chin over the edge. “Can you see the rabbit down there? Right by that sapling?”

She blinks, pressing in close. “The what? It’s just...dark out there.”

“Well,” he says, grin tight on his lips. “There’s your answer.”

Miss settles back on her heels, one hand already cupping her chin. “It makes sense. Without the distraction of color, your movement tracking must be much more acute...”

Obi only half-manages to stifle a laugh. “Seems like it definitely distracts everyone else.”

Miss goes quiet; almost too quiet, enough to make his teeth sit on edge. The seconds tick by, and Obi might play at patience, but it’s not in his nature. He glances down, just from the corners of his eyes, but Miss is already watching him, eyes strangely shuttered.

“Obi,” she says, so clear his name rings in his ears. “You don’t...? My hair, it’s not...” Her mouth works, quiet, before she manages, “It’s not anything to you?”

Anything special, she means. Because that’s what he said so stupidly last night, nothing special.

She’d tied it up tonight, finagling the strange looping knots that were partial to the queen’s court, but already some of it’s worn loose, slipping from its pins. “It is,” he murmurs. “I like it.”

She huffs, unimpressed. “But you can’t see it, not really.”

“Of course I can see it,” he laughs, weary. “Maybe not the color, but that’s fine. I like it because it’s yours.”

She ducks her head, and Obi might not be good at colors, but he can see her cheeks flush in the lamplight.

“Miss.” Her gaze lifts to his, no longer shuttered, just full. “Can I ask you something?”

Her breath catches. “Anything.”

“Be straight with me,” he pleads. “We do have the same eye color right?”

*

“Obi!” Miss‘s laughter bubbles bright with betrayal as she hops down the stairs after him. “Obi, please--”

“Let me grieve, Miss,” he grumbles, hands shoved in his pockets. “I’ve been a real champ about the rest, but let me have this.”

“Obi!” She catches him round the wrist, mouth twitching as she turns to him. “Is it really so bad that they’re gold?”

“No,” he mutters sullenly, shoulders slumped enough that with two stairs between them, they’re nearly the same height. “It’s just...”

Her eyes flutter wide with curiosity. “Just...?”

“It’s fine enough that they’re unique.” He spits the word with more venom than it deserves. “I just I wanted this one thing in common.”

“In common?” Miss blinks. “You mean, me and...?”

Obi would lay down his life for his mistress, but even she can’t ask him to do this, to lay down his pride for her to walk on.

“Oh!” She flusters, limbs fluttering in the air between them. He’s half-tempted to turn away again, but she grabs his face and holds him steady, her cold, slender fingers caught behind his jaw. “Just-- just one moment...”

“Miss?” he wheezes. This is entirely too close, too much--

“Yes!” He breath flutters over his lips, her own parting in a celebration of teeth. “That’s it. I see it. There’s a little, right there.”

He blinks. “A little what, Miss?”

Her teeth flash around the word, “Green.”

It’s cruel to throw a starving dog a bone, but he snaps it up anyway, heart nearly clogging up his throat with hope. “D’you mean it? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better.”

“Really,” she promises, her nod serious and officious as any she might give Little Ryuu. “There’s a thread, right around the middle. Green. Just like mine.”

“Oh.” His own hands raise, leather muting the feel of her skin, but-- Master always told him about the red thread that bound him and Miss together, that drew them toward their fated meeting, but this-- Obi will take this too. “Thank you, Miss.”

She smiles, eyes shining bright in the lamplight. “No, Obi, it’s my pleasure.”

Not much different between green and red to him, anyway.

[mutants-and-soldiers]

The Proposition (Ch. 1)

summary || You've been thinking about Steve's proposal a lot. Part of you wants to decline but a bigger part of you wants what he's offering.

pairing || alpha!Steve x omega!Reader (Past alpha!Bucky x omega!Reader)

word count || 3,706

warnings || A/B/O, eventual smut, therapy talks, kink negotiation, lots of dialogue — 18+ ONLY//MINORS DNI

notes || I can't get this story out of my head, really! First chapter is all about setting up the smut so I apologize but I believe in talking things out. Thank you to everyone who commented on the first part of the series! I'm going to try and be better about answering comments from here on out! Keep the comments coming, I love hearing from you guys so much!

You can also read it on Ao3. Do not copy, translate, rewrite or repost any of my work, even if you credit me. I always welcome comments and reblogs!

Sequel to Helping Hands: One Two Three Four Five

Divider courtesy of the talented @firefly-graphics

After so many years of going to see Dr. Beta, you were used to the routine when you stepped through the doors. It was late in their work day so you were the only person in the office other than Valarie, the receptionist, who gave you a kind smile. “Good afternoon,” she said, typing something onto her computer. “Dr. Beta’s just about ready.”

“Thanks, Valarie,” you say, setting your bag down to take off your suit.

It had been weird the first time Dr. Beta had demanded you not wear the suit during your sessions. You protested but in the end, she won out. There were a lot of reasons for choosing a female-only office but this was the biggest one. They accommodate you so much just to make you feel welcome and safe in your own skin. It was one of the few places that you could take the suit off and feel comfortable.

The suit was just being zipped up into your bag when the door to the doctor’s office opened. Dr. Beta was a matronly middle aged woman with plenty of laugh lines and crow's feet from years of laughter and joy. She was a kind beta who had done wonders for your mental health and self esteem. Without her, you probably wouldn’t have gone through with the job proposal.

She called your name with a gentle smile, “You ready?”

“Yep,” you smiled, walking over to step into the room. The blinds were closed tight but there were several lamps around the space that allowed a soft light to keep it illuminated. The wooden diffuser was pumping out the soothing smell of lemon and sandalwood. Dr. Beta had always said the lemon helped cut the potency of your powers but you weren’t sure if that was true or if it was something she said to make you feel better.

The two of you settled into your usual spots before the doctor asks, “Anything new since we last saw each other?”

It had been a month since your last session. The milestone of going monthly instead of bi-monthly had been huge for you. There was a time that you saw her weekly, which was when you were at your lowest. You were glad to be where you were.

“Where do I even start?” you laugh, leaning casually back on the leather couch. The cold material felt nice on the bare skin that peeked out from your denim shorts and athletic tank top. “I’ve been meeting regularly with three guys to run with them every Tuesday and Thursday. We also go out for drinks and the game on Sunday.”

“Wow, that’s fantastic!” she gushed, genuinely excited for you. She even sat her clipboard and pen down to lean forward with her elbows on her knees. It was something she only did when you made some kind of...positive choice in your life. The way it made your chest swell with self pride was silly and kind of childish but the woman had always been extra motherly to you. “Clients?”

“One of them was,” you nod, trying to keep the flush of excitement from making you seem too eager. “They’re really nice guys and they invited me to start sparring with them next week after our runs.”

A gentle look crossed the doctor’s face that had you melting. It was a look that she gave when she was proud and the way your name came out of her mouth spoke volumes. “I’m so proud of you,” she said aloud even though you knew it by her body language. “It’s been a long time since you took time for yourself in your personal life. Are they on your level of martial arts?”

“Better!” you said, excited to have a good challenge.

“Better than you?” she laughed, sounding incredulous. “I’d have to see that to believe it!” You join her for the laugh. “Anything else?”

Your mind flutters to a certain blond and his proposition but decide to keep that to yourself for now. It wasn’t good for you to hide secrets from Dr. Beta and you usually didn’t, however, she would definitely encourage you to take him up on the offer. You didn’t think you were ready to come up with reasons (lies) for why you couldn’t do that yet.

“Not really.”

She nods, grabbing her clipboard to flip the paper. “Dr. Noland said you were going to get your heat early this time around. She said you mentioned you might know why?”

Damn it. You forgot how much the two doctors communicated between each other about your health. It was the program you were in and, while amazingly helpful, could be very annoying at times. Case in point, now you need to make a choice on whether to point blank lie to Dr. Beta or just tell the truth. Lying by omission was much more your style.

“Yeah,” you sigh, resigning yourself to the conversation. “The last client I helped had...intense pheromones. I think it may have kicked me into my heat cycle early.”

The doctor’s hazel eyes widened in shock, “Even with the suppressant you took?”

Nodding, you look away for a second. “The client was a super soldier,” you admit, running a hand through your hair in frustration.

Understanding blossomed on her face when she made a guess as to who you were talking about. “Well, that might do it, for sure,” she nodded, making a note. “Still, I’m going to have Dr. Noland change your suppressant just in case it’s not working.”

She stood up, going over to the cabinet behind her desk. She took out a large bottle, tossing it to you, that had heat vitamins in them. Another bottle was thrown your way full of pills specifically for healthy slick production. The last thing she came over with were a few vouchers for omega-centric energy drinks and heat-snacks.

“I know you hate this question but I am legally required to ask,” she chuckles. “Do you have someone you trust to help you through your heat?”

You hesitate. “No.”

Her head snaps up, hazel eyes pinning you to the spot. “You hesitated. You never hesitate,” she points out with far too much excitement. She sets the clipboard down, doing the lean again. “Do you have someone in mind?”

Well, the cat was out of the bag and now you couldn’t lie because she would never believe you now. “I was...propositioned,” you admit, feeling stupidly relieved that you had been honest with her. She had conditioned you so fucking well to feel better when you told the truth as opposed to lying. It had been a ‘bad coping mechanism’ you created during your childhood to gain some control of your otherwise uncontrollable life.

“By one of your new friends?” she asked, already getting the gist of the conversation. “Was it your client?”

“No, not my client but his...best friend,” you whisper, feeling a little embarrassed that you were having this conversation.

Dr. Beta is quiet for a moment, contemplating how to ask the question. “What’s the big deal then? Why not take him up on the offer?”

You cringe. “There are…a lot of reasons but I’m sure you’re going to make them seem like they’re not problems but things I’ve blown up in my mind.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “You know your feelings and worries are valid! I just help you see things in a more logical light. I think you should really talk this through with him but...would you like to practice with me?”

You bite your lower lip but give a heavy sigh when you realize there’s still nearly forty minutes left of your time with her. “Fine. It can’t hurt.”

You sat in the booth twitching with your napkin. You and the owner were good friends from back in your academy days so he allowed you to pay a certain amount for the whole rooftop terrace. It meant you could enjoy a meal with someone without having to wear your suit. You also got the same female server every time who knew your situation and didn’t care.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” you heard a familiar voice say to your left.

Not really sure why, you stood up when he approached. He was wearing a thin blue zip-up jacket over a blue and white plaid button up shirt that was unbuttoned enough for you to see the white t-shirt he had under it. His jeans were dark and fit far too well around his massive thighs. A plain blue ball cap sat on his head and some fake glasses to help hide his identity. The smile he gave you was enough to make your preheat brain purr.

It took you by surprise when his big arms wrapped you up in a hug that smothered you in his masculine scent. Your hands touched his back, hugging him hesitantly. The squeeze lasted a little longer than you expected, just enough for your head to be perfectly swimming in his pheromones.

You pulled away when he did, allowing him to sit at the far side of the table, facing towards the rest of the area. He had insisted that you come without your suit so it was the least you could do to keep the waitress from noticing his erection.

“It’s okay, I ordered some water for us,” you smile, genuinely happy to see him. It wasn’t often that you saw any of the three men individually. They usually hung out in a pack and you were happy to know that you fit into the group pretty well. “Get whatever you want, Steve. It’s my treat.”

He gave you a look. “I would prefer it if you let me pay.”

Your heart gave a hard thump in your chest. There was something about the way he said it that was just short of a command. You look into his blue eyes, trying to gauge his intent before setting down the menu. “Is this some old-fashioned pride I see leaking through?” you tease, giving him a mischievous grin.

“No, I just figure it was only right that I buy you lunch before helping you with your heat,” he said so casually it made your face heat.

“What makes you think I’m going to agree?!” you laugh loudly.

There is a knowing glint in his eyes that makes your stomach flip. “Isn’t that why we’re here? Alone?” he questioned easily, looking up just as Julia came to the table.

“Welcome back,” she greets you, setting two empty glasses and a pitcher of water down on the table. “My name’s Julia.”

“Nice to meet you Julia,” Steve responded with a neutral smile. It caught you a little off guard because it...definitely wasn’t the smile he gave you. Was it just part of his disguise?

You both ordered a beer and your entrees. It wasn’t until Julia walked away that you focused back on the alpha across from you. He was already looking at you with an intense expression. You feel like he’s basically prying into your soul.

“I...spoke with my therapist yesterday and…” you start, finding it very hard to talk about this kind of thing. It was so easy to soothe your clients but so hard to give yourself a break. “She...convinced me to talk with you about my...worries.”

His expression softens a bit. “I’m willing to work with you,” he soothes, reaching out to take your hand. His fingers curled around yours, warm and solid. “Tell me everything.”

You take a deep breath. “I’m not afraid of hurting you,” you blurt out. “You can take me even on your worst day. I’m...embarrassed to count myself among the small population of omegas that go...feral during their heat. I...fight my partner. Dr. Beta says it's because of the trauma I experienced. Trauma doesn't just disappear during heat...it gets worse. I’m just not the usual kind of docile omega that society seems to exemplify.”

He looks up to alert you that Julia was returning with your drinks. He didn’t speak until she was back inside the building. “Truthfully, I’m actually more intrigued than put off by the notion,” he finally said after taking a sip of his beer. “Do you fight the whole time or just in the beginning?”

It wasn’t a line of questioning that you expected so you gaped at him like a fish out of water for a few seconds before finding your words. “I don’t...know,” you admit sheepishly, sipping your hard cider. “I’ve only been with one alpha during my heat and he had to go to the hospital a few hours into it.”

Something dark and tempting flashed through the blond’s eyes. “How do you feel about restraints?”

Your core throbbed at the simple question. It probably showed on your face because his smile started to widen in understanding. “Yes, that’s fine,” you breathe, trying not to think too hard about the implications.

“Would you prefer to do this at your house or in my suite?” he asked as if you had already agreed to the whole thing.

Your mind screamed at you to say decline. It was dangerous and there were so many things that could go wrong. Your omega brain though had already bought into the whole thing. You wanted this big, powerful alpha to hold you down and take you in the most forceful of ways. You wanted him to restrain you to your nest and have his way with you until the heat fog cleared.

“Wait, wait,” you say, trying to finish your thoughts before deciding anything. “I’m serious when I say I’m insatiable. I don’t have any refractory period between one wave and the next.”

Julia opens the door, alerting you both that she was coming out with food. You both wait until everything is set and she walks away before continuing. The food smells delicious so you grab the burger and bite into it. You always craved red meat before your heat so when the flavors burst across your taste buds, you hum in appreciation.

Steve took a few bites of his own meal before responding. “The super soldier serum makes it so I don’t have any refractory period,” he shrugs casually with a smile. “I’ve never met someone who could keep up with me so...I’m interested to see if you can. Any other worries?”

Heat blossoms across your cheek and in your chest. “I don’t want our friendship to be jeopardized,” you finally admit after finishing half of your burger. You grab some of the fries and eat them while thinking.

“Did helping Bucky keep you from being friends with him?”

“No, of course not,” you sigh, running out of excuses. Dr. Beta had been right, talking with him had definitely made you a little more comfortable with the idea. “Fine, okay, I accept your offer.”

“My place or yours?” he asks with a genuine smile.

You mull over the question for a bit before shrugging. “I have all of my nesting supplies at my house so we can do it at mine,” you chuckle, feeling a little nervous but excited too.

He nods. “Do I need to bring any supplies? Snacks or drinks?”

The two of you continue talking about the logistics of your heat while you finish the food. It makes you feel a lot better knowing you wouldn’t have to go through with it alone. You had already taken the initiative to send a message to all of your clients to let them know you would be out for your heat. You even went ahead and took an extra week just for yourself.

After you pay and you have your layers back on, the two of you stand outside the doors to the restaurant. You don’t want to leave him, truthfully. He smelt so good and you were so close to your heat that it was hard to separate from him. “Thanks for talking with me,” you smile despite the bonnet covering everything but your eyes. “I’ll give you a text when I’m ready.”

“Of course, thanks for lunch,” he chuckles, leaning down to kiss your forehead through the layers. “Here, take this for your nest.”

He shucked his jacket and offered it. Your hand reaches out to take it slowly. “Thanks but this might just push me into it faster,” you laugh brightly, holding the large jacket close to your chest. You could smell the scent of him even through all of your layers. It made your head foggy.

“That’s the idea,” he smirked, turning towards the tower with a wave. “Just let me know when you want me to come over.”

You watch him walk away, eyes lingering on the way his biceps stretched the fabric of his shirt and down until you stared at his toned ass in those jeans. It was obvious how close you were to your heat when sweat started to form along your temples and slick started to dampen your panties.

Once you got back home, you arranged your snacks and vitamins on the counter so they were easy for Steve to find. He might need to feed you for the first few waves because you weren’t sure if you’d be coherent or not. Then you went into your extra bedroom that you used for your heats and started getting it ready.

You pulled out all of your slick-resistant pillows, cushions and blankets from the closet to make a nest on your king sized bed. It was a nice four post bed that had your mind in dark places. All you could think about was being restrained with cuffs around one of those posts while Steve fucked into you.

It didn’t take long before you needed a pad for all of the fucking slick that was making everything so annoying. The nest took a lot longer that you would like to admit because it just didn’t seem...right. You’d never had this kind of issue before but your omega brain wanted Steve to be comfortable and happy too.

Looking back at the closet, you debated on whether or not you wanted to pull out the box of toys. You weren’t sure if Steve would want them or need them or…

“Fuck it,” you mutter, grabbing your phone to send the alpha a quick text. Toys or no toys?

You were adding his jacket to your nest when your phone vibrated in your pocket. Instead of the one or two word answer that you expected, it was...something else.

Definitely toys. I’ll enjoy teasing you until you’re begging for my knot.

Fuckin’ hell! Was this the same blond with the surprisingly boyish face that you had met during lunch today? The same guy that Sam teased about being an old virgin?

You didn’t think the pad was going to hold up to all of the slick that gush from you at the text. How does one respond to a text like that? You grabbed out the delicate pink box out of the closet, wincing at the color because it was the only color that the shop had to store your toys. Omegas were feminine right?! They liked pink, right?!

Laughing at yourself, you set the box on the little table in the room. You opened the lid and set it to the side so you could look at your assortment of toys. It was a collection you started when your first heat hit you at sixteen. You had been a late bloomer because of your constant martial arts training, which stilted your omega hormones.

It had all the necessities and even some extras. You had your typical knot dildo, a vibrator, a clit vibe, a few different types of condoms for when you weren’t in your heat, a bottle of lube that encouraged slick production, a bottle of regular lube, and a few different sized anal plugs. The last few were just because you enjoyed the feeling of being full when having sex.

Quickly you took a picture of the box and sent it to Steve as a reply. It was the best you could come up with. You had never really been good at those kinds of things. Well, you’d never had someone try and sext you.

Happy that everything was prepared, you cuddled under your fuzzy blanket in your nest. Comfort flooded through you as you nuzzled into the man’s jacket, deeply taking in his scent. It was nice and musky and made you feel warm and safe.

The phone buzzed. You’re okay with anal during your heat?

Your pheromone idled brain made you giggle, “Consent is important,” before you could text him back. Yes, I like being stuffed full.

It didn’t even register how inappropriate the text sounded before you hit send. You were obviously a lot further along than you had previously thought. The subtle throb of your core was starting to get worse but you weren’t too far gone to see his last text.

Good to know. Get some rest. Need me to come out and check on you before dark?

You groaned as a cramp hit your pelvis, slick becoming an issue. It simultaneously hurt and felt good. You were so distracted that you couldn’t answer the text message. Everything was suddenly too hot so you threw off your clothing, slipping your hand down to brush against your clit. It was already so sensitive it hurt but you needed relief.

It wasn’t enough and you knew that it would be futile to try and get yourself off with just your fingers but your brain wasn’t working. You groaned helplessly as the lackluster orgasm washed over you. It wasn’t enough, so frustratingly not enough. Sweat dripped down your cheek from your hairline making you kick off the blanket so you could turn over.

You didn’t care how it looked with your ass up because the scent of Steve on the jacket helped clear your head a little. It made your core throb but it also helped you become coherent. Enough so that you grabbed the phone and typed in a one word response that only said:

Now.

Credits for the pictures in Moodboard:

Unsplash photographers:

1. Kelly Sikkema

2. Vulkan Olmez

3. Toa Heftiba

Like, comment and reblogs are always welcome! Thanks for reading!

[abbysfrenchbraid]

hi! i love all of your writing, especially your abby fanfics. i know you’re in the middle of your eivor series right now, so pls disregard if you don’t feel like writing this request or don’t want to write for abby, but i was wondering if you could maybe write a hurt/comfort type imagine where abby either comforts the reader when they’re sad or after they have a nightmare. i get really frequent nightmares and love to read fanfics like this but totally understand if you’re not into the idea. all the love and i hope you’re doing well; merry christmas if you celebrate!

so this is half a year late, but I finally have a little more time to go through my requests so here it is! this is also the first time I've actively avoided gendering the reader as I've gotten a few requests for a nonbinary or genderfluid reader. This is not a cop-out on that, I definitely want to write an explicitly nb reader but I figured this would make the reading experience better for quite a few people!

Summary: The reader has recently lost a family member and stranded with the WLF. They struggle with frequent panic attacks and nightmares. Abby notices and tries to take care of them.

CW for loss of a family member (sibling), death and grief, heavy trauma, panic attacks, anxiety, nightmares, and struggling to breathe. The nightmares are also fairly violent and creepy so please watch out for yourselves and only read this if you're in a good state of mind <3

I've Got You

The truck rattled as Leah drove it up the road to the WLF stadium. It had been a particularly rough day on patrol. You and the other wolf had run into a group of freshly infected that seemed to have been three families once. The children had been the worst. The youngest had probably been about ten years old before she had turned, her eyes bright blue and her blonde curls matted with dried blood. You had taken care of them all, of course you had. But it had been horrible. You folded your hands in your lap to keep them from shaking.

You had joined the WLF a few months ago after losing your team and your little sister in a clicker-infested cellar you had set up camp in. It had been so fucking stupid, so careless. But everyone had been tired, you hadn’t seen any infected in days, and so only one of you had kept watch. He barely had time to scream before the clicker had ripped out his throat. It had been chaos, madness, everyone scrambling to escape into the network of damp corridors and storage rooms, more and more clickers being drawn to you by the noise.

Leah raised her hand at the armed guards at the gate and they opened for your truck. The sun was setting behind you and most people were inside the stadium now, eating or spending time with friends. Both of you were quiet. Leah’s legs were covered in slowly darkening blood and the smell was nauseating. The tall wolf pulled the truck into its designated spot and took a deep breath.

“Y/N?” You looked up at her. The circles under her eyes could compete with yours, but her face was still as kind as ever.

“Yeah?”

“You take care of yourself today. Take a long shower, get something to eat. I’ll let Martha know to give you a double portion for dinner.”

You smiled faintly at her. This was how it was here. All the wolves had seen terrible things and probably done even worse. They all chose to let it out in training and then leave it behind them. No sense in holding on. You nodded.

“Thanks, Lee. See you in the gym tomorrow.”

The brunette grinned and patted your thigh.

“6 am sharp!” She jumped out of the car and gave back the keys at the checkpoint, then she vanished inside the stadium.

You stayed in your seat. Your fingers had cramped up and you were scared to unfold them, scared you would never be able to stop them from shaking again.

Sierra had held your hand all the way, not letting go as you dragged her through the darkness, fought off four infected, stumbled up stairs you had not come down on, and found yourself in a ravaged theater. You had run all night and only stopped when you were unable to go a single step further. When you had found a small pawnshop that you could lock up safely, you had made a bed of your jacket and a moth-eaten blanket from the theater. Sierra had started to cry. You would never forget the way dread had started to creep into your limbs, seeping into your skin and stretching dark tendrils toward your throat. You had rolled up Sierra’s sleeve and there it was. A relatively small mark, just the puncture wounds from two teeth turned into mean scratches as Sierra had pulled her arm from the jaws of a clicker and kept on running. But it had already begun to fester, the edges of the wound an angry red contrasting the white blisters forming around the site. It felt like the ground had been pulled from below your feet. You fell and fell, unable to speak, to do anything, just staring at the thing that meant the end of the world. The end of your baby sister.

A shout caught your attention - another car had returned to the stadium and was pulling into a spot a few paces away. It was Manny and Abby, everyone’s favorite duo. The attractive joker and the stoic warrior. They were among Leah’s best friends and she had introduced them to you a while ago, all of them welcoming you warmly. It had been strange, being part of a group again, a team. Your heart was still too sore.

So you had quietly pulled yourself out of most of the group evenings, the film nights and game nights and arm wrestling tournaments and what else there was to do. Manny had tried his luck flirting with you a few times and one time you had even joined him for a dance, but after realizing he wouldn’t land with you he had respectfully backed off and now treated you more like a little sister. Mel and Owen had been nice, too, both very secluded when they turned up together, but Owen was funny and enthusiastic and always yelled your name across the cafeteria or the training course when he saw you. He was one of the few people who could make you laugh no matter how hard you tried not to.

Nora was a whirlwind, the smartest person you had ever known and unfaltering no matter what the universe threw at her feet. She liked poetry and hard rock music, big men and even bigger women. You had often wondered whether she and Abby had ever hooked up. But you weren’t sure of anything concerning Abby. Always the stony face, the impenetrable wall, the arms-length smile and polite nod in the hallway. It could be infuriating at times. Especially because despite it all, against all your better judgment, you could feel yourself growing more and more interested in her, constantly looking for her in a crowd and sneaking side glances to see if she was listening to you or laughing at the same things.

The car doors banged and the sound echoed through the small space. Manny was laughing about something Abby had said and walked with a bounce in his step as he approached the counter to hand back his keys. Abby looked like she always did, khaki cargo pants and a black cutoff, her green backpack slung over one muscular shoulder. Some strands of hair had escaped her braid and curled up at the back of her neck, slightly damp from her sweat in the hot summer air. Trying to calm down and distract yourself, you let your gaze wander up her strong build, freckled biceps flexing as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. And then she looked straight at you. You didn’t move, stayed frozen as you had for the last few minutes, wishing you were invisible.

Your face felt hot and suddenly there were tears blurring your vision - what was happening?! Your knees started shaking as well, bouncing uncontrollably as your nails dug into the backs of your hands. Your throat was closing up and your bottom lip was quivering. All you saw were specks of grey and green, all you felt was your body resisting every command and rebelling against you, trying to hold you in place and suffocate you silently.

Suddenly the door opened beside you and a soft, deep voice said your name. You tried to blink the tears away but your vision wouldn’t clear up, panic blinding you further. You began shaking your head as your chest convulsed in a desperate attempt to draw breath.

“Fuck, Y/N, okay.” Abby’s voice was determined and suddenly her hands were on your wrists. Her skin was warm and dry, her grip firm. She softly shook your clasped hands and somehow moved so her face was in front of yours, a mess of green and brown and there, soft pink where her lips moved, speaking quietly and telling you to breathe with her. One hand stayed on your wrist and her thumb massaged the cramped up muscle there, digging painfully into your flesh but pulling you back to her slowly. One hand came up closer and a calloused thumb brushed the tears from your cheek before her hand landed on your shoulder, fingers pressing into your upper back.

“Hey, look at me, look at me, Y/N, you’re okay, I’m here. Can you try to breathe in with me on three? Just stop fighting for a moment, count with me and then we’ll breathe in together. Okay? One.”

You tried to sit up straighter and stop the erratic twitching of your chest, still choking on your breath as you waited for her commando.

“Two. Three.”

Her hand pressed between your shoulders from behind and suddenly you could breathe again, a loud gasp that turned into quiet sobs as you fought to release the air from your lungs before breathing in again.

“There we go, you’re doing so good,” Abby’s hand was on your cheek again, “so good, Y/N, breathe with me, that’s right.”

Your vision slowly returned to you now, though it was still distorted by  tears. Abby had half-climbed into the truck, one foot between yours and one dangling out of the open door, her weight held up only by her right leg as she pressed her back against the dashboard. A wet laugh escaped you. Abby shot you a confused look, paired with the hint of a relieved smile.

“What?”

“You’re gonna get a cramp as well,” you rasped, “if you keep that up.”

You slid further to the inside of the broad seat, making room for Abby next to you. She grinned and sat down, one hand still on your wrist. Her eyes went down to your trembling hands, your knuckles still white from your iron grip.

“Okay, let’s take care of your hands, hm?”

Her fingers wandered softly over yours, then she rested one hand over your tangled fingers and pushed her other thumb between your palms, gently loosening your hold. She pulled back each finger slowly, starting with your thumbs and stroking each one as they relaxed. Finally, your shaking hands lay freely on your thighs.

“You’re doing so well, Y/N, don’t worry.” She took one of your hands in her lap and started massaging the inside of your palm. “Wanna tell me what got you there?”

You sighed, breath still shaky with tears.

“Um.. We ran into infected today. Runners. Families, it seemed.”

Abby sucked in a breath and gave you back your hand before taking the other and starting the same gentle procedure.

“Those are the hardest. Kids?”

You nodded and Abby made a soft noise. You took another rattling breath.

“I… I lost my little sister. Back when… before I came to you.”

Her head shot up and she stared at you, shock and sympathy playing over her features.

“Fuck, Y/N, you never said…”

“I know.” You lowered your head.

When you had stumbled out of the woods around the WLF stadium and begged them to let you in, they had stripped you and searched you before bringing you to their leader. After hours of questioning to make sure you weren’t a spy for any other group, he knew about your team and everything you had done in the last three years, but you hadn’t mentioned Sierra once. It wouldn’t change anything anyway. They had brought you to Nora who had patched you up, examined you, and fed you before showing you to your new room. It was a small closet on the base level of the stadium, with only a tiny window letting in some light. You were thankful for a roof over your head and the armed posts surrounding the stadium.

“I didn’t want to talk about her. I didn’t lie to Isaac or betray you. It wasn't anyone's business.” You gave Abby a fierce look. Nothing would change your mind about this. She just nodded, her eyes wide. You sighed, brushing your hands against each other.

“She was bitten. I see her every time I close my eyes. It wasn’t fair.” You dropped your hands into your lap. “I just don’t… I can’t -”

Abby’s hand was on yours again, her fingers sliding between yours.

“Hey. I won’t tell anyone. But I’m here, okay? If you want to talk.”

You scoffed.

“No one ever talks here. You’re all made of stone.”

Abby contemplated this for a few seconds, then she squeezed your hand.

“My dad was murdered a few years ago. Almost all of our families are dead.” Now it was your turn to be shocked. Fuck. You had been so insensitive. “By us, I mean Owen, Nora, Jordan, and me. Owen lost his parents to infected and his brothers to the scars just last year.”

Abby leaned back and stared out of the windshield, the garage now dark except for a few small lamps at the exits.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry. Of course, I’m in no place to tell you how to deal with it.”

“No, it’s fine. You’re right, you know. We don’t talk about those things.” She looked at you, her gaze so intense you almost pulled back. “Would you like to?”

You forced yourself to hold her gaze.

“I think I would. Now that it’s all… further away.”

Abby nodded, squeezing your hand again.

“Then we’ll talk. You can tell me all about your sister. And… I haven’t talked about my dad in a long time. I think I’d like to tell you about him, too. He was great.”

A small smile played around her lips and you felt a rush of gratitude for this wonderful woman. You could practically see the memories playing through her head behind those green eyes. She blinked, looking back at you.

“Wanna get something to eat? You must be starving. I know I am.”

“Sure.” You shared another smile and exited the car together, fingers still intertwined as you crossed the lot and Abby held the door open for you.

Dinner was already over, but Leah had kept her word and the elder woman at the counter gave you both gigantic bowls of beef stew with thick, coarse bread. You told Abby about your patrol that day and she hummed sympathetically. She knew what it felt like to deal with infected children. After a while, the door to the cafeteria flew open and Manny came in, sleek black hair still wet from a shower. He grinned brightly as he made his way over to you and sat next to you on the metal bench.

“You coming along tonight?” he asked you, drumming his fingers on the table. You raised your eyebrows.

“What’s happening tonight?”

He tutted at Abby and gave her a theatrical frown.

“You didn’t invite Y/N? It’s Mel’s birthday! Owen got his hands on some prime hooch. You celebrating with us?”

You smiled at your plate. The last thing you needed was to get wasted and completely lose any shred of sanity you had left.

“Thanks, but I don’t think I’ll join you. I still haven’t showered and I had a terrible day. I’m just gonna read a bit and pass out, I think.” You gave him an apologetic shrug.

“Oh, come on, Y/N. Read and pass out? It’s a special occasion! You sure?”

“Yeah, but really, thank you for inviting me. Maybe next time.”

He sighed heavily, then he clapped his hand on the table and stood up.

“Abby, you need to get moving, girl. We’re meeting in 20 and you stink.”

Abby just raised her eyebrows and shook her head, finishing her stew. Manny's laughter echoed through the empty room as he left.

“Do I really smell that bad?” There was a twinkle in her eye, a conspiratorial smile on her lips. You smiled back.

“Not at all. He probably smelled me.” You grabbed her empty bowl and placed it in yours. “Go have fun, I’ll clean this up. See you at training.”

Abby cocked her head to the side, seemingly not sure what to do. You gave her another encouraging smile.

“Really, I’m fine. Thank you for taking care of me, I owe you. Go celebrate!”

The tall blonde stood up slowly. She still seemed hesitant.

“I’ll come check on you later if that’s okay. And you can always come over and talk to me if something’s wrong, alright?”

Your chest felt tight all of a sudden, but not in the way it had earlier. It was the feeling of reaching for something knowing you’d never have it, of wanting something so bad and only being able to admire it from a distance. It felt like being homesick. You thought of Sierra again and how she had been your home, the only anchor in your life. Fuck, not now.

You shook your head as if to get rid of your thoughts and gave Abby a brave smile.

“Okay. But I’ll be fine. Promise.”

“Okay. See you later, then.”

“See you.”

Abby gave you a last look over her shoulder before exiting the cafeteria and you made your way over to the kitchen. The cooks had already left and a lanky red-haired boy was the only one still there, washing dishes and listening to music on an mp3 player. The metallic sound in his headphones echoed through the peacefully quiet kitchen. He almost jumped two feet into the air when you approached from the side, bowls in your hand.

“Fuck, you scared the shit out of me! Jesus Christ.” He pressed a wet hand to his chest, the suds leaving a dark print on his shirt.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know how not to scare you, music and all. Sorry.” Both of you had to laugh and he held his dripping hands out for your dirty bowls.

“Don’t worry, I just wasn’t expecting anyone this late. You just come back from a mission?”

“Just a patrol run.”

You leaned against the counter and watched him clean the dishes.

“Anything exciting happen?” His eyes were bright and excited. He was even younger than he had looked at first, he couldn’t be older than 15. “My brother is on patrols too. Maybe you know him, his name is Danny.”

You crossed your arms and tried to remember the face that matched that name. Danny had been on patrol with Owen for a while when you had first arrived, but now he was stationed on some outpost and you hadn’t seen him for a long time.

“Yeah, I think I do. He’s not here at the moment, right?”

“He’s at the Serevena Hotel. I may be able to visit him there soon, depending on how my training goes.”

You raised your eyebrows.

“Training to be a soldier?”

“Of course.” He stood up straight. “I want to do my part, protect our people. Fight the scars.”

You didn’t really know how to respond to that. Even though you were thankful the WLF had taken you in and even though you had also participated in rigorous training from the first day on, soon being cleared for missions, you didn’t really have the same loyalty and faith for the organization. The seraphites were your enemies now, of course, but they were just people. You all were. Sometimes you wondered how it could have come to this - so few people left on this earth and here you were, slaughtering each other.

“I hope you can visit your brother soon.” You let your arms fall to the side and turned to leave. “Thanks for the dishes.”

“No problem,” he mumbled, putting his headphones back in.

You were in no rush to get to your room and so you took a few detours, passing the gym which was filled with quite a lot of people getting their training in after work. You looked into empty classrooms, trying to decipher what was written on the board. Would Sierra have studied here? Sat in the front, eager to learn the things you hadn’t been able to teach her? What if you had come here earlier, before it all happened? Could they have protected her better than you had? She would probably be walking next to you now, telling you about her day.

When you finally arrived at your room, you just quickly grabbed a towel, a clean shirt, and some shorts and headed for the showers. The hot water seemed to help somewhat. You wondered what Abby was up to right now. Probably getting drunk and having fun. Was she the type of person who danced? You had never seen her dance before. Maybe Nora would persuade her. There it was again, that heavy, pulling feeling. You turned the water off, got dressed, and went straight to bed. Enough heartache for one day.

-

You woke up confused, not knowing where you were at first. It was pitch black and there was some kind of noise outside. You reached around you and finally found the flashlight next to your pillow, turning it on and trying to wipe the sleep from your eyes. What was going on?

It had to be after midnight. The lights in the stadium were only on from 5.30 am to 10 pm in order to save power. You untangled yourself from your sheets and got on your feet, swaying a little. There it was again, that strange scratching noise accompanied by a quiet mumbling sound. It wasn’t directly at your door but seemed to come from further down the corridor. There were a few other people living down here in storerooms and sectioned hallways.

Yawning, you walked to the door and opened it ever so slightly, pressing the flashlight to your thigh in order to keep the light down at first. You couldn’t see anything, so you waved the flashlight around the corridor. Your stomach dropped.

At the far end of the hallway, a small figure stood in front of one of the doors, trying to open it to no avail. Small hands scratched at the wood, quiet brabbling reached your ears. This was wrong. Very wrong. The figure hadn’t noticed the light yet. It went on to the next door, trying the door handle and whining in frustration when it didn’t open.

Why didn’t the people inside wake up from the noise? You stood frozen as the figure tried the next door. It was a child, dressed in dotted pyjamas. Its blonde hair was shoulder length and tangled in knots. You slowly pushed your door open wider in order to step out into the corridor. Suddenly, the hinges squeaked and the sound echoed through the hallway.

The child slowly turned toward you. Blood was dripping from its mouth, its eyes were cold. It took a step toward you. You looked down and realized you were holding a gun. Oh. Right. Infected. You were supposed to shoot them.

As the kid made another strange brabbling sound, more blood ran down the front of the cotton pyjama shirt. You raised the flashlight with shaky fingers and aimed it right at the child's face.

Your blood froze in your veins. No. This couldn’t be. You had taken care of her, you had made sure she wouldn’t… wouldn’t turn into one of these… No, you had given her a peaceful ending.

“Sierra.” Your voice was raspy, quiet with terror. “Sierra, what are you doing here, baby?”

She growled. A horribly wrong sound, coming from someone so small and so lovely. Only she wasn’t lovely anymore. She was sick. Infected.

“Sierra!” You spoke louder now, your voice pleading. “Baby, please don’t do that. It’s me, see?” You raised the flashlight to light your own face for a moment. When you put it back on her, she had stopped walking. Her face was a mask of ice-cold fury. When she spoke, her voice rattled like nails in a metal box, rough like chalk on board.

“Y/N… Why?

You sank to your knees.

“Oh baby, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know what to do. I’m so sorry Siri, I was so helpless. I didn’t know, I didn’t…”

“You… killed… me.”

She was getting dangerously close now and all of a sudden you could smell her, too. Foul, dead, vile. The smell of sickness and decay. You raised the gun, a war raging between your head and your heart.

“Sierra, stop. Stop.” Tears were streaming down your face. “Please stop, Siri. Don’t come any closer. Stop, stop! Please stop!”

Your little baby sister was so close that you could have reached out a hand and brushed through her hair. You stood up and took a step back.

“I’m gonna have to shoot you if you don’t step back. You’re infected, Siri. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but you can’t, please Sierra. Don’t, please don’t…”

She hissed at you and lurched forward. A shot rang through the air and the girl fell to the floor right before you, her tiny body at your feet, blood slowly pooling around her head. You dropped the gun and it clattered on the concrete floor. You clapped your hands to your mouth and screamed into your palms, crying out again and again, trying to gasp for air. It felt like your heart was being torn in two.

Suddenly there was a hand on your shoulder. You whirled around, but there was only darkness. You let yourself fall to the floor and kept weeping into your hands. Someone gripped your wrists and shook them slightly. You opened your eyes.

Abby was sitting on the side of your bed, her face right above yours and full of worry. You shook your head, frantically looking around your room for any kind of danger. The room was almost dark, light just seeping through the crack under the door. It was still early in the night.

“Y/N? Hey, hey. You’re okay.” Abby slowly let go of your wrists. “You had a nightmare. You’re okay now, I’m here.”

You were still too terrified to speak, so you just scooted further to the side and grabbed Abby’s hand, giving her a pleading look. She understood immediately, kicking off her shoes and climbing into bed next to you, holding out her arm for you to crawl into. You pressed yourself to her side and rested your head on her chest, feeling yourself tremble in her arms. She just held you for a while, letting you listen to her heartbeat until your own body began to calm down.

“Hi,” you whispered into the dim room. Abby stroked your hair while she held you tightly.

“Hey there,” she mumbled back. “Feeling better?”

“Not really.” You looked up at her. She smelled faintly of alcohol and something sweet. “How was your party?”

The corner of her mouth twitched.

“It was absolute chaos. I had to escape from there before it could consume me. And I also had someone to check on.” She squeezed your shoulder. You cringed at the thought of her finding you like this, writhing and talking in your sleep, crying out or even fighting her without knowing who was in front of you. You had always had horrible nightmares and Sierra had taken the brunt of them, waking you countless nights and trying to stay brave when you yelled at her or shoved her away in the first moments of consciousness, not yet fully back in the real world. Now that she was gone, they were a hundred times worse. You pressed your forehead to Abby’s shoulder.

“Did I scream?”

“Not really. I just knocked a few times and then I heard you talking, and you sounded so panicked that I thought I should make sure… I’m sorry I just came in like that.”

You shook your head.

“No, don’t. Thank you for waking me. It was… God, I hate this.”

Abby’s fingers combed through your hair, massaging your scalp. It was heavenly.

“Does this happen a lot?”

You snorted involuntarily.

“Every night. Several times. I never sleep through and I never sleep enough.” You wiped a hand over your face. “Sorry, I know I’m not the only one and it could be worse. It’s just… hard.”

“Excuse me?” Abby’s tone made you look up at her. “You’re telling me you have several panic attacks in your sleep every night but it’s fine because others have nightmares, too?”

You frowned. Panic attacks? You’d never thought of it that way.

“Y/N, you’re allowed to complain. To me especially. Remember, we wanted to talk about our problems? Be open about all this?”

She was right. You pressed yourself closer to her.

“I guess, yeah. Thank you for… for being here.”

“Wanna tell me about your nightmare?”

You held onto Abby’s shirt, clenching the fabric in your fist as if she might be ripped from you at any moment.

“I don’t know… I mean, why not. Well…” How were you even supposed to explain all this? How would you ever talk about your sister without freaking out again?

Abby pressed a kiss to the top of your head and you felt the tension in your stomach dissolve. You took a deep breath.

“I can never tell I’m dreaming. This time I thought I heard something in the corridor and I went to see what it was. A little girl was scratching on doors, trying to get in. She looked like the… like one of the infected we ran into today. But I made a noise and when she turned around she was... She was -” You gasped for air, trying to keep your calm. Abby hummed softly, stroking your back and giving you time to think.

“She had the face of my sister. Sierra.” You hadn’t said her name out loud in so long, only in the nightmares. Maybe it was time to rid her name of that terror, that fear, and grant it the love and warmth it deserved. “Sierra was my little sister. We ran with a group the last few years, stayed with them after our mom died. But she was bitten and I had to… I had to let her go.” You swallowed hard. Abby’s thumb drew circles on your back.

“So in the dream… the girl turned around and she was her . And I didn’t know what to do. I begged her to stop, to not come any closer because she was infected, she was bleeding, and -” You drew in another breath and buried your face in Abby’s chest. “She asked me why I’d done it, why I had… and she kept coming and then she attacked me and I - I had to, I had to shoot her.”

Hot tears were burning in your eyes and your throat was impossibly tight again. Abby gently placed a hand on your cheek and turned your face up toward her.

“I’m not gonna tell you it was just a dream because I know it's more complicated than that. I get them, too, sometimes. But what I can tell you is that I’m here, that you’re safe now, that your sister is in a better place and that one day you will be able to speak about her without feeling like you’re falling apart.”

“You think so?”

“I’m sure of it. And now you're with me. We can heal together. I’m here, I’ll always be here for you, okay?”

You raised your head from her chest and turned a little in order to get face to face with her.

“Abby?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you doing this? Why now? I didn’t even think you liked me. You don’t have to take care of me.”

Abby’s features softened and she huffed out a silent laugh.

“I don’t know. I really… You were right when you said we keep everything to ourselves. But some of us do it more than others. And I guess I’m the worst when it comes to showing what I want.”

The sentence hung in the air for a moment. Abby took a deep breath.

“I like you, I really do. I just thought you needed more time. I know what it’s like to suffer and to feel like you can’t breathe. I wanted to give you space. But then I saw you in the car and I immediately knew what was happening. And I finally realized that I wouldn’t make things better by staying away.”

She held your gaze and you felt something shift between you. Her hand on your back came to a halt. You smiled softly.

“I always thought you didn’t find me interesting enough to talk to me. I was so jealous of the others for being this close to you and for making you laugh. I wanted that, too.”

“You’re the most interesting person that’s ever walked into this stadium,” Abby said softly. “God, I’m so sorry. I never wanted you to feel left out.”

You rested your head back on her shoulder.

“You made it up to me already. Really, you saved me today. Twice.”

Abby chuckled.

“Just wait until I have my next breakdown and then you can return the favor. Shouldn’t be long, they get to me every few days.”

You wrapped your arms around her torso.

“Well, then you’ll just have to stay close by.”

She hesitated, holding her breath for a second. You waited.

“Do you want me to stay? Tonight?”

You smiled to yourself.

“Would you?”

“Of course.”

You kept talking for a while. Abby told you about the party and about the cook Nora was currently hooking up with, and you told her about the boy in the kitchen. She recalled training with Danny when she first joined the WLF, laughing about how he had boasted that he wouldn’t lose to a girl and how she had him on the ground in a headlock in about two seconds.

At some point you must have fallen asleep, because the next thing you knew you were in the truck again, sitting in the passenger seat as the car flew through Seattle at top speed. You looked over and in the driver's seat there was the red-haired boy from the kitchen. His face was determined, a hard mask of concentration. He was panting hard, driving as fast as he could. Arrows were flying around you, soaring through the broken windows of the car and missing you by mere inches. A horse was whinnying. Scars. You immediately pulled out your gun and started shooting at everything that moved outside, hitting at least three people and a horse.

“Sorry,” you whispered as you reloaded. Animals weren’t fair.

You looked up and suddenly there was someone standing in the middle of the street. A small girl, brown-haired and in a red dress. Her back was to you. You screamed at the driver, but it was too late. The truck hit the child and it was thrown against the windshield, making a horrible noise as it cracked the glass and rolled over the roof to the back of the car where it fell to the ground. The truck came to a shrieking halt and you jumped out, gun drawn. The scars had vanished. You and the redhead ran back to where the girl was laying in a heap on the street, so small and fragile. Blood was running through the cracks in the pavement.

You turned the girl on her back and froze when you saw her face.

“Sierra! No, no, no, oh god no, what have we done - Sierra, Sierra, baby, look at me!”

“Y/N!” You heard your name but Sierra’s lips weren’t moving. “Y/N!” You whipped your head around and woke up.

It was dark and Abby had an arm wrapped around you, the other was holding your cheek. You swallowed and struggled for air.

“I’ve got you, hey, just breathe for me, I’ve got you.” Abby’s voice was sleepy and rough, something you'd have never thought you’d have the privilege of hearing. It calmed you down instantly. You dug your fingers into her arm, strong muscle flexing beneath your touch.

“Shhh, that’s right, just hold on. You’re okay.” You melted into her arms, hands and legs still shaking. She made a quiet humming noise in the back of her throat and pressed another kiss to your scalp. “I’m here. I’ll take care of you. I’m here.”

“You’re here,” you whispered and she hummed again in response. You rested your head against her chest and listened to her breaths as they slowly became more regular, chest steadily moving against you. Her heartbeat thumped softly in your ear. Cocooned in the wolf’s arms and serenaded by the quiet symphony of her sleeping body, you finally drifted off to sleep again.

[morganaspendragonss]

Hello! Fic request please. Okay, so TK and Carlos never got together. During the Boba date, TK let Carlos know that they should be friends and Carlos understood. So they became good friends but TK just self sabotages a lot so he loved Carlos then but didn't want to let Carlos in so he thought it better to just let him go and settle for a friendship. So one day, they decide to check out this new place for lunch. TK excuses himself for the bathroom and he hears this huge explosion and feels the impact. When he gets out, it's a fiery mess. All that is on his mind: I have to find Carlos. Even when the 126 respond to the explosion, TK refuses to leave until he has found Carlos. Carlos is found unconscious, injured and with severe smoke inhalation. 📍

holly's august extravaganza day 13: couldn't utter my love when it counted

thank you! you've given me such wonderful prompts and it's been a pleasure to write every single one of them! 💚😊

ao3 | 3k | canon divergence, explosions, major character injury, angst with a happy ending, love declarations

TK has made a lot of mistakes in his life, but undoubtedly one of the biggest was letting Carlos Reyes go. He hates the person he was back then, the one who was too blind to see that what he needed—what he wanted—was right in front of him, in a very literal sense.

“How long are you going to avoid talking about it TK?”

“Us?”

“What are we? Are we even a ‘we’?”

TK wants to say yes. He looks at Carlos with his soulful brown eyes and kind tilt to his mouth and he just knows that this is someone he could let in. He’s already seen some of TK’s darkest depths, and yet he’s still here, still asking, still wanting to be with him.

Then again, Carlos isn’t the only one who has been with him despite, and the last person who did that ended up growing tired of him. Carlos would promise against it if he knew what TK was thinking, but it’s an impossible promise to make, far easier said than done. He isn’t that kind of person, TK knows this—but then, neither was Alex, until he was.

He can’t risk it. Besides, he barely recognises his life anymore, and he can’t ask Carlos to hang around indefinitely until he can get his head in order again. If there’s one thing TK is certain of, it’s that Carlos is a good man, and he doesn’t deserve to have to deal with all of TK’s bullshit, however much TK may want it.

So. That’s it.

“I like you, Carlos. I want to get to know you better. But as friends. I’m not in a place for a relationship—I don’t know if this is where I belong, or even if I can be a firefighter anymore. And I just. I just think that I have to work out who I am before I can let someone else in on that, you know? So… Can we? Be friends, I mean?”

Carlos would be well within his rights to say no, after all. But instead he smiles, a little sad, but still as gentle as ever, and says, “Sure. I’d love that.”

TK realised three things pretty quickly after that moment.

One: Austin is his home.

Two: He belongs at the firehouse—but as a paramedic.

And three: He is in love with Carlos Reyes.

But his moment has come and gone. That conversation is the kind that can’t be taken back; the damage has been done, and now TK has to live with the consequences. It’s not all bad—he still has Carlos in his life, and things are… Things are good. They hang out regularly, they have an ongoing text thread, there’s no awkwardness or resentment between them. All things considered, they’re in a better place than they were back during their pseudo-dating phase.

But still, TK misses him.

It’s a strange feeling, missing someone who’s right there beside him. TK hadn’t realised how much he would lose when they became ‘just friends’ for real, but now he finds himself noticing more and more the absence of a flirty twinkle in Carlos’s eye or the suggestive lilt to his words. There’s still an air around them, a sense that, if he just pushed a little, they could easily tip over into more. Into whatever they were on their way to becoming before TK drew his line in the sand.

He won’t, though. It wouldn’t be fair—Carlos has already put up with so much from him that it’s a miracle he’s even still around at all—and TK is not willing to risk what is now the best friendship of his life. If having Carlos in his life means keeping his hands to himself and forever refusing the urge to kiss him senseless, then it’s a small price to pay.

*

“You’re such an ass!” TK shoves Carlos lightly as they walk down the street, rolling his eyes at the smirk sent his way. “Why can’t you just suck it up and accept that maybe you don’t know Austin as well as you think you do?”

Carlos raises a solitary eyebrow. “Because I’ve lived here my entire life?”

“That doesn’t mean anything. Besides,” he cuts in, before Carlos can come back with some other stupid, logical argument, “this place only popped up a few months back so there’s no way you’ve had enough time to make a proper judgement.”

“And you have?”

“Shut up.”

Carlos laughs and, though TK tries to glare at him, he can’t help but be drawn into it. He shakes his head and looks down to avoid Carlos’s eyes, only for his gaze to catch on their hands, swinging in sync mere centimetres apart. How he aches to close that distance and thread their fingers together; to tell Carlos everything he’s been pushing down for months—

Carlos lifts his hand to run his fingers through his hair, and the moment is broken. If he noticed TK’s lapse, then he doesn’t show it, instead turning to him with an amused smile. “Alright,” he says, “how about this? You take me wherever this is, and next time, I’ll take you to the actual best pizza place in Austin; then we’ll see who’s right.”

TK wishes he could kiss that self-satisfied smirk off his face. See how smug he is then.

“Fine,” he agrees. “Prepare to eat your words, Reyes.”

“Looking forward to it.”

God, TK hates him.

*

Carlos is being infuriatingly quiet as they eat, and it’s grating on TK’s every nerve. TK is well aware he’s doing it for that exact purpose, but he’s never been known for his patience—a fact which Carlos knows all too well and is rudely taking advantage of.

“So?” TK demands, folding his arms on the tabletop. “Was I right, or was I right?”

Carlos hums, pretending to consider the slice in his hand with great care. Then, he meets TK’s eyes and drops it back on the plate, re-settling in his seat with a shit-eating grin. “It was okay.”

TK’s mouth drops open. He blinks at Carlos for a good few seconds, then snaps his jaw shut with a click, shaking his head and sighing. “I hate you,” he grumbles, refusing to look Carlos in the eye.

Carlos has the audacity to actually laugh. “No, you don’t,” he says, and he doesn’t know quite how true that is. TK feels a blush start to rise on his cheeks, which cannot happen, so he clears his throat and slides out of his seat.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” he says. “Maybe you’ll have reconsidered by the time I come back.”

TK can’t stop a grin from forming the second he turns his back, his heart doing a stupid little dance in his chest. He doesn’t need a mirror to know that his face is bright red, and he’s going to have to splash a significant amount of water over him before he can even think about facing Carlos again.

He takes his time in the bathroom, stopping to stare at his reflection in the mirror for several minutes and trying to talk himself down from any more-than-friendly feelings towards Carlos.

Later, they’ll tell him that this saved his life.

But that won’t be for a long time, until after the smoke has cleared and the dead have been counted and the statements have been taken.

For now, TK steels his resolve and nods at himself, then turns to the door, a hand reaching out for the handle.

That’s when the explosion rips through the building.

*

He’s floating.

He’s… He doesn’t… Something’s not right. Something…

Underwater. He can’t hear anything and he’s floating and he’s underwater, except he can’t be because he was just in a restaurant with Carlos and they were talking and—and—

The world slams back into him with the force of a freight train and TK coughs as he instantly feels like his entire body is being compressed, his airways closing up. It takes a few seconds to realise his eyes are closed and several more before he can open them, only to be met with even more darkness.

He blinks—so he definitely has opened them—but he still can’t see a damn thing. Is he… He can’t be blind. He can’t.

TK’s chest tightens even further and the panic causes his limbs to twitch, to scrabble at the ground, and the movements must be enough to dislodge something because suddenly there’s light streaming into his eyes. He slams his eyelids shut instinctively, and it’s a long moment before he can crack them open again.

His surroundings come to him in bits and pieces. To his left, a pile of cracked porcelain—the sink, he realises. The floor glitters with a material TK can’t identify until he catches sight of his reflection in a shard of glass just in front of him. And on top of him, something heavy, rough—wood?

The door!

Slowly, agonisingly, he manages to shift to all fours, then to his knees, then finally staggers to his feet. He sways in place, watching the bathroom door hit the floor, and—that’s strange. It doesn’t make a sound.

He can’t hear anything, actually, aside from a faint, high-pitched ringing. The paramedic in him tells him that this is a bad thing, but he feels separate from both his brain and his body; he’s floating somewhere outside his body, this whole situation feeling like a dream, or perhaps a nightmare.

A thought drifts through his mind then. No, not a thought, a name.

Carlos.

He was with Carlos. He has to find Carlos.

TK stumbles forward, grabbing onto anything within reach as the battle to stay upright gets harder with each second that passes. An intense heat hits him as he makes it into what he thinks is the main seating area and the change in atmosphere is instant—thick, black smoke invades his lungs, sending him back to his knees, body heaving with coughs.

The restaurant is on fire and TK can barely keep his eyes open as he searches for any sign of Carlos. He forces his aching body further, any pain taking a back-seat as the need to find Carlos grows. He’s still not sure what’s happening or how they got in this mess, but he knows that Carlos is in danger, and TK isn’t going to let him die. Not now. Not ever, if he can help it.

He crawls through the restaurant, blind and deaf to where he’s going, but he’ll know it’s Carlos when he finds him. He knows he will. There’s nothing that could stop him from recognising Carlos.

TK doesn’t know what’s happening when he suddenly feels himself being lifted, something bulky being placed over his face. It’s a shock, the sensation of being able to breathe clean oxygen, and it goes to his head for a moment, the dizziness growing even as his vision begins to clear up.

He catches sight of 126 emblazoned on a helmet and familiar, worried eyes looking down at him, and that’s when it connects. His family are here, they’re here, but Carlos is still somewhere and TK is not leaving without him. He struggles in his father’s grasp, managing to squirm and flail enough to get his feet on the floor and for his dad’s grip on him to falter.

But the relief is momentary; no sooner is he standing than the vertigo and nausea takes over, and he crumbles.

This time, when the world goes black, it stays that way.

*

They tell him it was a gas explosion in the restaurant’s kitchen. They say he’s lucky to be alive, that his trip to the bathroom saved him. They say he needs plenty of rest and time to heal.

They don’t tell him anything about Carlos.

TK asks, he’s been asking since the moment he woke up in the hospital. But the team knows nothing and the doctors keep saying to focus on his own injuries rather than worrying about someone else.

Someone else, as if that’s all Carlos is. He’s the love of TK’s fucking life, but they might never get the chance to be anything more than friends; TK has seen the news. His dad had switched it off the second he caught him watching it, but he’d seen enough to know that survivors are few, and, of those, most of them weren’t as lucky as TK.

His injuries were serious, but they’ll heal. He’ll probably have scars from the shrapnel from when the explosion first went off and from the burns he acquired looking for Carlos, and he’s going to have one hell of a tinnitus case for a while, but it’s nothing. Less than nothing.

He’s alive, which, if Carlos is dead or dying, is far more than he deserves.

*

On his fifth day in hospital, they tell him he can go home later. He should be grateful, but it just feels like another thing that’s happened to him in a long line of things. He’s waiting for his dad to come back from picking his prescription up when there’s a knock at the door, and TK looks up to see an older Latino couple, the woman looking at him with a deep sadness in her eyes.

“I… Are you TK?” she asks haltingly.

TK frowns and nods, surprised by the relief that floods her face when he does. He doesn’t have to wonder for long, though.

“I’m Andrea. Carlos’s mother. This is his father, Gabriel.” She gestures to the man next to her, who nods at TK, his mouth pinched. TK swallows nervously, terror building in him at the thought of what Carlos’s parents could be doing here. “The doctors tell us you’ve been asking about our son,” Andrea continues. “We wanted to come and talk to you and give you the news ourselves.”

TK swears his heart stops in his chest. “Is he…”

He can’t get the words out, can’t put the idea into existence, but Andrea clearly picks up on what he’s thinking as she crosses the room, taking his hands in hers.

“He’s alive,” she says. “He… He lost a leg in the explosion and his lungs were damaged from the smoke, but the doctors have told us that the worst danger has passed. We’re just waiting for him to wake up now.” Andrea pauses, biting her lip. She looks at Gabriel, then back to TK, releasing his hands. “How do you know our son? Are you…”

“We’re friends,” TK says, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. “He’s the best friend I’ve got. Thank you for telling me.”

*

He leaves his number with Andrea and Gabriel, and they promise to keep him updated on Carlos’s condition.

Four days after TK goes home, he gets a phone call to say that Carlos is awake. He’s back at the hospital within the hour, racing as fast as he can (which, infuriatingly, isn’t very fast right now) to the room number they gave him.

The sight he’s greeted with just about takes his breath away.

Carlos smiles at him, and he’s covered in bandages and scrapes and he’s clearly exhausted, but he’s smiling, and TK swears he’s never looked more beautiful. He stands in the doorway for a long time, just staring at Carlos for the first time in nine days, so captivated by him that he doesn’t notice the knowing look that passes between Andrea and Gabriel.

“We’ll give you boys some time to catch up,” Gabriel says. He pats TK’s shoulder when they walk past him, and it’s enough to spur him back into action.

TK crosses the room in three quick strides, reaching for Carlos’s hand the second he’s settled in the chair. He almost sobs when he feels Carlos squeeze his hand back; it’s weak, more just a twitch of the fingers, but it feels like everything.

“Hi,” Carlos says, his voice quiet and raspy.

TK sniffs, opens his mouth to say hi back, but maybe the explosion knocked him about more than he realised, because what comes out instead is, “I love you.”

Their eyes widen at the same time, a flush rising on TK’s face as he processes what he just did. “I—I’m so sorry, Carlos, I—” He shakes his head and tries to pull his hand back, but Carlos’s grip tightens, keeping him firmly in place.

“Say it again,” he demands.

TK blinks. “What?”

“Say it again.”

He hesitates another second, but the slight uptick to Carlos’s lips gives him the confidence he needs to look Carlos in the eyes.

“I love you. I’ve loved you for the longest time and I’m so sorry that I couldn’t see it before. I was scared, and I thought I wouldn’t be able to handle a relationship, and I figured it would be easier to let you down than risk hurting us both when we inevitably realised it couldn’t work out.

“But I was so wrong, Carlos. Back at the restaurant, after the explosion, all I cared about was finding you and making sure that you were okay. I couldn’t stand the thought that anything might have happened to you, and I’ve been going out of my mind since it happened because I didn’t know how you were. I—I can’t lose you, Carlos.”

He takes a deep breath and blinks away the tears beginning to gather in his eyes, attempting a trembling smile to match Carlos’s own. “I love you,” he whispers. “If it’s too late, then I understand. I just. I need you in my life. I need you, Carlos. However you’ll have me.”

Carlos holds his gaze for a long time after TK has finished speaking, and it feels like he’s seeing right through him. Eventually, after so long that TK’s lost all sense of time, he slowly raises his hand, brushing his knuckles across TK’s cheek, then coming to rest on the back of his neck.

“I love you, too.”

And the light pressure from Carlos’s hand is all the invitation TK needs to close the distance between them, his heart pounding as he kisses Carlos for what feels like the first time.

Hopefully, it’s the first of many, and the first of the rest of their lives.

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Dumbass got stabbed III

I really thought I had finished with this two shot but after a request from @/booksrlife300 on ao3 asking for the aftermath I really couldn't resist making it a three shot. And my writing demon certainly agreed because it really went wild during my plane ride.

Anyway here is part three (and i think the final part) to dumbass got stabbed.

Recap (since it's been over a year):

Percy gets stabbed by a monster after coming back from the movies with his friends and the first place he goes to is Jason's house. Jason nearly has a heart attack after Percy collapses on his door and then he pulls him inside and stitches him all up.

This fic starts with Percy waking up the next morning.

[image has alt text]

Percy wakes up to searing pain. It spills across his skin like an upturned sowing box. He doesn't know where it's coming from because it feels like it's coming from everywhere. He can't even take stock of his body because he feels like one big pincushion. He supposes being stabbed makes him a pincushion.

He doesn't want to open his eyes. He can feel the light behind them. Too bright. Too loud. Too not how he feels.

He feels like deep darkness. Like the darkness just before a star explodes. The darkness before the sky erupts. The kind that blankets all of his senses except the one that pings danger. That's red and wailing at him. But then pain so untamed it turns his vision orange lances across his side and his eyes snap open with a low howl.

He can see white ceiling. He can see black dots. He hears scrambling, clothes rustling and something falling over. And then he can see blue eyes. And then he can see skies and oceans and glass bottles and concern like mothering hens staring down at him.

"Percy," His name is a growled gasp. Sleep still clinging to the strings of his friends voice box, scratching it's way down his throat.

"Hello, I'm in immense pain." Vaguely he notes that he sounds like an automated machine relaying it's faulty inner workings. That's half how he feels now that the burning-orange pain has lessened to a caution-yellow.

"Here," A golden hand, fingers wrapped in individual bandages, long and racing with green veins, holds out a square to him. It is small and unassuming. Nobody would guess it holds the food of gods. Then again nobody would guess those gods existed.

His mouth feels as though he's been eating his clothes for sustenance the last week. All heavy tongue, dry saliva glands, and teeth too smudgy to be healthy. He considers turning the square away for some toothpaste and a glass of water. But neither of those are going to magically cure the wound marking his side. So he opens his mouth, his jaw, and let's Jason drop the square onto his tongue. Warm fingers brush his lips as they pull back and he wants to chase the lightning-blue zing that they leave behind against his sarcastic mouth.

Instead he snaps himself shut and chews slowly. Only half interested in the cookies, then brownies, then soda— which he somehow knows is blue— disappears down his throat. He feels the magic working through his veins, skin stitching itself together. A headache he didn't know he had disappates.

With a long exhale he relaxes back against cotton cushions and finally takes a good look around the room. He has every detail of it already memorised, having spent many a day and night in this position bothering his friend endlessly. There's the singular shelf that houses old trinkets tattered and bruised from years of moving; the single arrow from Thalia's set— given in protection and as a reminder that she would always be there, for real this time; there's the gaudy new York taxi keyring he had given the blonde, now without the ring part, so of no real use; and the snow globe from Piper when she visited Paris. The soft yellow wall— lemon drizzle if you want to get specific— sits in perfect contrast to the charcoal grey of the rest of the room. It sort of embodies Jason's whole presence. The desk, well used and scattered with books and paper and Chinese takeout containers, sits in the corner opposite the bedroom, right near the window. He says if he can see the city he can breathe a little easier. He knows what he's working towards. Percy thinks it's so he can see the sky and know there's always a way to escape.

Him and Jason are good at that. Escaping. From bad situations, from big feelings, from each other. There's always something left unsaid between them. It drives their friends mad, but it's all they can do to stop from becoming hurricanes and devouring the entire universe.

"How are you feeling?" The blonde is sitting in his swivelly squeaky desk chair, leaning over him with all sense of care and concern. It makes him feel like duck egg blue.

"Much better thank you." He attempts a grin. He hopes it's not a grimace. "No matter how many times I get stabbed it doesn't seem to hrut any less."

Jason narrows his eyes, "I wonder why."

See that's what Percy likes. Everyone else is always giving him disapproving looks and worried scoldings when he says things like that but Jason? Jason indulges him, makes it feel not so suffocating to always be injured and bruised and relying on little squares of God-food to get him through the month.

"How do I look?" This time it's definitely a grin. He can feel the green of his eyes go emerald with amusement.

"Very pretty as always." The reply is solemn, but there's a twitch of pink lips and it's all he can do to not reach over and touch it.

"Want to tell me what happened?" A frown replaces the amusement and he wants to rewind the last few seconds again and again. "You were a little...out of it when you showed up."

"Yes I suppose getting attacked by a monster makes all the smart chemicals in my brain go a little foamy."

"You don't know what attacked you?"

And he is pinned to the bed, to the room, to the world. Because nobody can read the words behind his words the way Jason can. Can read the emotion behind his pauses and the expressions behind his masks. He is neon purple.

"It was dark." He resigns himself to the story. When he's done, laid all the boring details bare, he studies the floors.

The silence stretches around them, cocooning them into something too delicate to touch. It feels almost awkward, or it would if he knew anything about that when he was here. Instead it's just quiet.

"Can you stand? You need a shower."

"Oof Jase," He puts a hand to his chest, hurt painted like clown's make up falling across his face. "I can't look that bad."

There's a precious smirk, full of quick whips kicking up in his friend. "It's the way you smell actually."

He takes an exaggerated whiff and nearly gags. "I smell like I'm decaying." He shudders.

A laugh bursts from the blonde and Percy doesn't want to move in case the music ends. He feels candy floss pink in that moment.

"Right up you get. I'll sort out breakfast and then you can entertain me for the day."

"You don't have to take care of me." He rolls his eyes, sitting up with a hidden wince. His feet settle on the floor. He's grateful neither of them acknowledge that he came here in a haze. That Jason did take care of him. That when his mind was nothing but blinding pain this was the first place his legs took him.

"I'm not taking care of you. I'm using you for entertainment."

What his friend doesn't realise is that Percy can read all his hidden scripture just as well. How "entertain me" means I'm keeping an eye on you. How "mind helping me with this" means I can do it just fine by myself but I want company. How winks mean "it's a joke between us" but smirks mean "it's honesty but gently". It warms his heart to know he can do this. It's a sunshine yellow thing to know someone the way they know each other.

"You good?" Jason stops at the door when he still hasn't moved from the bed.

"Yes just preparing to haul my very large body into your very small shower." He feels the eye roll more than see it. It tugs a smile onto his face.

"I'll remind you that I'm an even larger body and I make it work."

"How on earth do you ever have shower—"

"Percy Jackson!" He is snapped into a laugh.

And then he's in the bathroom and his mouth is full of mint bubbles and although there are circles as deep purple as squished plums under his eyes they shine with contentness. He doesn't fear or worry. Not here. At home, in his mother's house, he's the protector from monsters only he can decimate. At camp he is the protector from monsters that are determined to destroy. But here. He is just Percy. And his protector is cooking pancakes in the kitchen. He is just Percy. And he is sage green as he steps into the steam of the shower.

He looks down, catching the fading wound on his abdomen. His brown skin let's droplets of water rest briefly before rippling and they go racing down to the tiled floor. He stands there for a good minute just staring blankly. But then he hears the sound of a kettle whistling and it jolts him into action as he scrubs the grime and gross of yet another something trying to kill him, off his body.

By the time he's done— sweats and a loose tee rummaged from Jason's closet draping over his too hot skin— the pancakes are neatly stacked on two plates and fresh steaming coffee sits to the right of their food. He feels honey brown.

"Looks delicious."

"I know the way to your heart." The blonde shrugs.

"It's more of a journey than most bargain for." He laughs quietly.

"Dont worry I've brought my hacksaw and my hiking boots I'm willing to run through Amazonian forests."

"Well that's relieving," He grins around his mug. "I was beginning to think I'd be stranded in my stone tower forever."

"All alone?"

He snorts, "No I've made friends with all manner of being. I can't be alone, you know that." He bites into his pancake, blueberry slipping off his fork with a thudding splash into the syrup.

"I do know." The blonde's voice is all buttery and melting. And the truth that comes with it knocks a new vein into Percy's heart.

They're quiet for a few minutes as they devour their breakfast. When there's mere sips of coffee left he settles back in his chair and regards his friend.

"What manner of entertainment am I providing today?"

"Whatever you want but I'm not leaving the house."

"Oh good I don't know if I can make it ten steps out your door without half crumbling to dust these days."

"You wouldn't."

"Mhmm," He hums distractedly, gaging the weather to decide if they're going to huddle up with movies and far too many blankets or throw playing cards at each other while drowning in lemonade. It's a movie sort of day, he decides.

"You wouldn't turn to dust." Jason is saying. "You're too much god and too much good to die like monsters." There is that silent reading again.

"Maybe I was." Percy shrugs, "Before you know..."

And he doesn't need to add anymore because the big space the catches onto that sentence no matter how much time separates those events from the now still means the same thing. Before Tartarus. Before he made a ventriloquist puppet out of a goddess. Before he became unhinged.

"You are not a monster for protecting yourself. Or others." Golden voice is firm. Solid.

"You may be the only one who knows and thinks that."

"Doesn't matter it's still true."

"Okay enough seriousness." He doesn't have the energy for their circling conversation. "Shall we binge Pirates of the Caribbean?" For a stormy grey second he thinks his friend is going to keep their talk going but then he sees the surrender behind the blue eyes and a part of him unwinds.

"We can." There's a raised eyebrow accompanying the agreement and he knows there's conditions attached. Like a damn insurance plan. "If your promise to let me walk you home this evening."

"My big bad wolf." He teases.

The blonde responds with a low growl that makes his whole body turn a violent azure blue. "Fine. We shall stare at Captain Jack Sparrow and then you can valiantly walk me to my front door and shake hands with my mother."

"Wonderful. Now let's get some blankets down."

Jason smiles as he stretches on his tiptoes to reach the fluffy ones. He feels the soft material under his palm but the there's a hand over his brown one and it's tugging the blanket down. He sticks his tongue out at his friend.

Percy is ocean blue.

[orangeoctopi7]

They’re Good Dogs, Stan

@forduary Week 2 is Fluff and Angsty, but this is ALL FLUFF! I’ve seen tons and tons of Gravity Falls AUs with Werewolf!Stan, but none with Ford as a werewolf. So I wanted to write one. I could’ve gone for Paranoid, pre-portal incident Ford and all the good angst that’d come with that, but I’m already a week behind, so pure fluff it is! * * *

Mid-September, 2013. Another summer has come and gone, the kids are back home in Piedmont, and the elder Pines twins are preparing for their next voyage. After a busy day of gathering supplies, Stan is ready to take the afternoon off. But Ford wouldn’t be Ford if he didn’t jump at every opportunity to study something strange. He’d gone off on his own, mentioning something about checking on a werewolf theory for Soos. Stan, after confirming that it was still a couple of days until the full moon, decided to stay home and catch a nap on the porch, enjoying the first cool evening in months.

It was now an hour later, and while the sun still hadn’t set, Stan was starting to get a little worried. If the supposed werewolf really wasn’t any trouble, surely his brother would’ve been back by now. Ford may have the tendency to get caught up in his work, but he wasn’t exactly the type to let a conversation or interview drag on and on.

In an effort to distract himself from worrying, Stan decided to help Soos wrap up the last tour of the day. He’d just seen the last bus off when he noticed a large, hump-backed animal moving through the forest. 

"What is that, a moose?" He squinted through the trees, trying to get a better look at it to see if it was something dangerous. It definitely went on four legs, so not a Manotaur. The only other thing that big around here that went on four legs was that Bear-bear friend of Dipper's, and he was a dark brown color. Whatever this was, its fur glinted silvery grey in the late afternoon sun.

Whatever it was, it was moving fast, and making its way towards the clearing that housed the Mystery Shack. In just a few seconds, Stan thought he could make out what it was, but his cataracts had to be playing tricks on him.

It wasn’t a moose. It was a wolf the size of a moose.

The closer it got, the more weird details he noticed about it. He’d never heard of a wolf with curly fur, and was it wagging its tail?

Where the heck was Ford? He’d love to see this. This was probably some giant’s pet woofdle (Half wolf half poodle).

Wait...

Stan looked up at the almost full moon hanging just above the trees as the sun began to set.

He looked back at the running wolf just in time to see it burst out of the trees and tackle him to the ground, knocking the wind out of him. 

The wolf licked his face enthusiastically as he tried to catch his breath again.

“Ford, you didn’t!”

The fact that the wolf looked guilty was all the answer he needed.

* * *

When Soos shared his theory that the mailman was a werewolf with Ford, the old researcher had jumped at the opportunity. Here was a man who, from the looks of it, would have been a child when Ford first came to Gravity Falls. 

This meant one of two things: One, there had been child werewolves in Gravity Falls when he first started his research here, and he somehow completely missed it; or Two, this man had been turned to a werewolf in the last 30 years, which meant there had been an increase in werewolf activity while Ford was on the other side of the portal. Either way, Ford was very excited to ask him some questions.

He’d dashed off from the Mystery Shack, barely stopping to let Stanley know where he was going and confirming that the full moon wasn’t for a few more days. 

Once he arrived at the mail-man’s house, Ford knocked enthusiastically. The seconds slowly ticked by as he waited, but no answer came. After counting to 100, Ford knocked again, a little more insistently. He heard something moving behind the door. He started pounding on the door, and didn’t let up.

Finally, he heard several bolts being undone. 

“Hey, you need to leave in the next…” The stout red-haired man flipped open his phone and checked an app, “Two minutes.”

“Oh.” Ford answered with mild surprise. “Well, I’ll cut straight to the chase then! I wanted to know if there was any truth to the rumors that you might be a werewolf!”

The man gave Ford a confused look before answering. “Stick around for another minute and a half and you’ll find out.”

“Really!? But it won’t be a full moon for another three days! And sunset won’t be for another hour and a half!”

“No, but the moon’s rising in about a minute. Seriously, you need to leave.”

Ford’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. “Would you be willing to let me observe your transformation? It would be an unprecedented scientific opportunity!”

“Nope, too dangerous.”

With that, the man slammed the door in Ford’s face. He heard several bolts and locks being re-done. For a brief moment, Ford was reminded of a less pleasant time in his own life, when he himself had locked himself in his own house like that, both for his own protection and for the protection of the world outside.

The old researcher shook the thought out of his head. This was nothing like that.

Honestly, he just wanted to observe. It wasn’t like he was looking for trouble. He had survived for years in the multiverse, he could just peek through the window of a werewolf!

Luckily there were plenty of windows on the second floor that had the blinds and curtains wide open, presumably to let in plenty of sunlight. Or perhaps to let in plenty of moonlight? That was one of many theories he’d have to ask the man about once the moon had set again. Whatever the case, these windows would be perfect points of observation.

Ford climbed a nearby tree to get a better look into the werewolf’s home. He couldn’t see the transformation from here, but he could see what appeared to be the entire hind leg of an elk hanging by a couple of ropes in one room. Interesting… obviously this man prepared food for his wolf form, presumably to prevent any chance of the werewolf hunting local townsfolk or livestock, but why hang it in such a position? It wasn’t so high that the werewolf couldn’t reach it, but it would obviously take more work.

Well, he wasn’t going to see the transformation for himself from this window. The old researcher readied himself to jump to the tiny balcony in front of the next nearest window. Hopefully he’d find what he was looking for there. 

The old man took a leap-- misjudged the springiness of the branch beneath his feet-- and crashed through the window.

Ford picked himself up off the floor with a groan. That window should not have broken so easily. Surely, the home of a werewolf should be better fortified! He would have to block the window with something if he didn’t want a werewolf loose on the town. He was looking for a bookshelf or cabinet he could push in front of the opening, when he heard a low snuffling sound, followed by an angry growl.

A reddish-brown wolf, twice the size of any Ford had ever seen, with an abnormally large cranium, was standing at the top of the stairs, glaring daggers at him. Ford was torn between reaching for his blaster to protect himself, or reaching for the new journal Mabel had made for him to start writing down observations.

Drat, I missed the transformation. He thought to himself. So it must be a rapid process. I wonder if that makes it more or less painful?

The wolf growled again, hackles raised, and Ford finally pulled out his blaster, being sure to set it to stun. After all, it wasn’t the wolf’s fault he’d stumbled into the wolf’s territory.

Unfortunately, pulling a gun, even a sci-fi looking one, was the wrong move. The wolf lunged at him before he could pull the trigger, fangs sinking into his forearm. Ford yelled with pain, punching and kicking the beast to get it to let go.

The pain of the bite was soon replaced with a strange twitching, rippling, itching sensation, that quickly radiated outward from the wound. He looked down and noticed the hair on his arm growing thicker.

Well, it looks like I’ll get to observe the transformation after all! He thought as he fell to his knees.

* * *

Stan was absolutely flabbergasted by the moose-sized wolf currently pawing at his fridge. It barely fit in the room, and he was pretty sure that wagging tail was going to knock the table over.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, you’re hungry.” Stan muscled his way past the mountain of fur and pulled out an entire container of bologna that hadn’t even been opened yet. “Here.” he peeled the seal off the package and tossed a slice like a little frisbee. Wolf!Ford snapped it up in one bite. He looked expectantly at Stan and gave a pathetic little whine, hoping for another.

“Uh, I dunno if you should even be eatin’ this stuff when you’re like that.” Stan protested. “Pretty sure wolves aren’t supposed to eat people food.”

The wolf gave a little huff, but nodded in agreement. And wasn’t that wild, seeing a curly-haired wolf just make a human gesture like that?

The wolf headed back to the back porch door. He pawed the doorknob, like it was instinctual, but gave a little annoyed grunt when he apparently remembered he didn’t have thumbs. Next he tried to grasp the doorknob between his jaws.

“Oh no you don’t!” Stan shouted. “I don’t want teeth-marks all over my doorknobs! Or wolf drool, for that matter!”

Wolf!Ford shot him another guilty look and whined plaintively. Stan sighed and opened the door for him.

“I just let you in, what the heck do you want out again for?”

The wolf made a series of grunts and groans that were probably supposed to mean something, but Stan didn’t get any of what he was trying to say.

“Whatever, just don’t go too far.”

* * *

The wolf actually rolled its eyes. Stan didn’t even think wolves could do that. Of course, this was a werewolf, so maybe it could do things a normal wolf couldn’t. It dashed away into the forest.

“Hey! I said don’t go too far!” Stan shouted after him. The wolf was already out of sight. The old con man groaned. “Alright, fine, just be careful!” Stan yelled even louder, hoping his transformed brother could still hear him. 

Ford was hungrier than he’d been since coming back to his home dimension, and while the slice of bologna had been tasty, it had been far from filling. Besides, Stan was right. Wolves probably shouldn’t eat processed meats. He was going to have to go hunting!

He took in a deep breath, enjoying all the diverse smells that had opened up to him with his transformation, trying to differentiate the smell of wild game from the smell of Farmer Sprott’s farm animals. 

It’s probably a good thing Mabel took Waddles home with her before this happened. Ford thought. 

He was able to pick out the scent of what he thought might be a mule deer. He snuck through the forest, finding that he could be surprisingly quiet for something so large. He got close enough to the mule deer that he could see the tiny twitching movements of its nose sniffing the air when it finally noticed him. When it finally caught his scent, it bounded away in an instant, and Ford gave chase.

As exhilarating as the case felt, there was also a sense of wrongness to it. He knew instinctively that he shouldn’t, couldn’t hunt on his own, and he found himself wishing desperately that Stanley was with him, even if he knew on some level that his brother wouldn’t want to hunt a deer and probably wouldn’t be much help even if he did.

The wind changed direction and a new scent, strange yet familiar, caught his attention. It was the synthetic, sterile smell of a human mixed with the pungent, musky smell of a wolf, not unlike his own. And he’d smelled it earlier, right after his transformation.

It was the mailman!

Another werewolf, stockier and more reddish brown than silver gray, was running through the forest, scaring the mule deer back in Ford’s direction with a loud howl. Now he wasn’t alone. Now the hunt felt right.

The deer zig-zagged between the two of them before the mailman finally came close enough to latch his jaws into its hind flank. It tried to kick the wolf off, but it had slowed enough that Ford was able to catch up himself, and then instinct completely took over. Before he knew it, the deer was dead on the ground, and the two werewolves were covered in blood, happily sharing the meal they’d taken down together. The one doe wasn’t enough to feed two enormous werewolves, but it definitely put more of a dent in Ford’s hunger than the slice of bologna had.

As they finished off the last of the deer carcase, the other wolf looked at Ford, and although no words were exchanged, a form of communication passed between them.

“You’re the idiot researcher who broke into my house.” The mailman didn’t seem angry, just bemused more than anything.

“It was an accident.” Ford’s tail and ears drooped.

“I told you to leave.” The mailman’s ears flattened and he gave a small annoyed growl. “But it is nice to go hunting with someone. I usually just hang up an elk flank for my own enrichment, so the local farmers and hunters don’t throw a tizzy, but this was much more fun!”

“I agree!” Ford wagged his tail, and his ears perked up again. “I’m still hungry, let’s find another deer!”

The two wolves continued to hunt together for another hour or so, taking down one more deer and finding a large nest of ground squirrels that finally filled them up. Eventually, dusk passed into full night, and the time that deer were the most active had passed.

“Well, we’d better do our best to cover our tracks and clean up after ourselves.” The mailman stretched and began burying the remains of the ground squirrels. “The local farmers and hunters will throw a tizzy fit if they realize there are a couple of wolves in town.”

“Is that why you usually lock yourself in your house?” Ford asked.

The other wolf nodded, and Ford was reminded that this was a man most of the time. “I’ve been chased by an angry mob a couple of times. Even shot at with silver bullets.”

“Really? Is there any truth to those old legends?”

“Well any bullet will kill you if it gets you in the heart or the brain.” the mailman replied with a growl. “Silver bullets will force you to transform back to normal, so as long as it’s not a serious injury, you’ll just heal while your body rearranges itself. I got shot in the hind leg, so the bullet just fell out as I transformed.”

“Faciniating! What is it about silver that causes the change? Is it just contact with silver in general, or does it have to be a bullet?”

Ford hadn’t realized that wolves could give blank stares like that. “No clue. I’m not rich enough to have access to pure silver.”

“Oh, it’s actually quite easy to precipitate out of Silver Nitrate, which you can purchase through most industrial chemical catalogs!”

* * *

It was getting late, and Stan was getting tired, but he was not going to bed until he knew Ford was safe. His brother had run off almost an hour and a half ago, and Stan had seen enough monster movies to worry what would happen to his brother if he ran into anyone else.

Unfortunately, following the wolf through the woods in the dark seemed more likely to get Stan into trouble than to get Ford out of it, so he decided to just keep vigil on the porch for now. He’d heard a few howls in the night, but nothing that sounded like a wolf in danger. He was just going to have to trust that his brother could take care of himself.

It was nearly midnight when Ford finally trotted out of the forest and into the light of the Mystery Shack’s back porch, dragging a mostly picked-clean deer carcase behind him.

“What the heck did you bring that back with you for!?” Stan exclaimed in disgust, looking at the trail of sineu, bones, and skin that now led up to the porch.

Ford looked expectantly between Stan and the carcase, nudging a bit of ribs that still had some meat on them closer to his brother.

“What are you thinkin’!? I’m not eatin’ that!”

The wolf actually did a double-take, as if he was just now remembering that his brother was a human who ate cooked meat that had already been butchered and prepared and sold in a supermarket, not the raw, still bloody remains of a deer that had been alive just three hours ago.

“I hope you realize, I’m not letting you in the house while you’re filthy like that.” Stan gestured to the dark brown dried blood that was flaking off Ford’s curly gray fur. 

The wolf looked thoroughly shamed, and began licking the blood from his paws and muzzle, but there was a lot he couldn’t reach on his own. Stan rolled his eyes and grabbed the hose. It was way too late for this.

Ford gave a surprised yelp when Stan turned the hose on him, and he looked absolutely pathetic as he sat there and took it, the water making him look much skinnier and bedraggled. He whined pitifully as Stan placed his thumb over the end to increase the water pressure, and did his best to power-spray the remaining blood and dirt out of his brother’s fur. When he was finally satisfied that no deer guts would be tracked inside, he nodded with approval and turned the hose of.

The wolf’s tail hung low as he climbed up to the porch.

“Serves you right! You had me worried sick!” Stan reprimanded him. “And I should’ve been in bed two hours ago!”

The wolf gave another sad whine and tried to lick Stan’s face. He pushed his brother off, but also gave him an affectionate scritch behind his ear.

“Yeah yeah, it’s hard to stay mad at you when you’re a big fluffy dog.” He opened the door and let Ford back inside.

As soon as Stan closed the door behind him, Ford gave a tremendous shake, sending water flying everywhere, and absolutely soaking everything in the entryway, including Stan. 

“Oh, I see how it is! You were just faking bein’ pathetic to take your revenge, huh?” 

Ford wagged his tail and huffed, a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

Stan stomped up the stairs to take a shower, while Ford picked his way towards the laundry room. The wolf pulled a towel onto the floor and rolled around on it to finish drying himself off. He would help clean up the entryway, but he didn’t have any opposable thumbs, so there wasn’t much he could do.

* * *

Stan went to bed immediately after getting out of the shower. It had been an exhausting day. He’d deal with Ford’s stupid werewolf escapades in the morning. Hopefully, his brother would be back to normal by then.

He’d just been about to drift off to sleep when he felt something huge and hairy flop down on the mattress next to him. Apparently, werewolf!Ford didn’t want to sleep alone, and honestly, Stan was too tired to try and shove him off, so he just snuggled into the great mound of fur and drifted off to sleep.

A few hours later, a loud cracking sound, like someone popping all their joints at once, woke Stan with a start. It was still dark out, although the first few rays of light were appearing on the horizon. Stan realized he was suddenly colder too, as though someone had pulled a blanket off him. He suddenly realized that the giant furry mass that had been sleeping next to him all night had been replaced by plain old human skin and bones.

“Ford?” Stan asked, squinting in the twilight to try and see if his brother had indeed returned to normal.

“Ugh… ow… It’s like having all your joints dislocated and then relocated at once… Ah, so I’m fully capable of human speech again!” The old researcher stretched and felt himself over. “Oh dear… I seem to have left my clothes back where I first transformed!” He pulled Stan’s blanket over himself.

“S’not like I can see you anyway.” Stan yanked his blanket back. It was cold this morning, especially now that the living space heater werewolf form was gone! “Go back to your own room and grab your PJ’s.”

The bed creaked as Ford climbed out of it, and Stan saw the blurry silhouette of his brother pause in the doorway.

“Stanley, I… I’m sorry.”

“Didja get hurt?” Stan asked sleepily.

“No. In fact, it was an incredible experience!”

“Then I ain’t even mad. Just lemme go back to sleep, ok?”

“It’s just… I know I worried you. And I’m sorry for that.”

“Great. Apology accepted. Go to bed.”

* * *

After the craziness of last night, Stan didn’t wake until almost 10:30 the next morning. He stumbled into breakfast the next morning to find the kitchen table absolutely covered in Ford’s notes, and his brother in the middle of recounting his experience to Soos.

“... And I’m not sure if it was some sort of telepathy that all werewolves share, or if my inner human consciousness was just translating the wolves body language and pheromone communication, but we were able to communicate perfectly, even about complex concepts like chemistry and legends and angry mobs!”

“Oh, hey Stan!” Soos greeted him cheerfully. “Turns out I was totally right about that mailman bein’ a werewolf!”

“Yeah, I’m aware.” Stan rolled his eyes and grabbed a packet of oatmeal.

“I promise, I only went there to observe!” Ford assured him, “I had no intention of turning into a werewolf myself. But now that it’s happened, I’ll actually be able to observe and study werewolves first-hand! Which is perfect, because there’s still so much we don’t know! Obviously, it doesn’t have to be a completely full moon to trigger the transformation, so how full does it have to be? How is the transformation transmitted from one person to the next?”

“How are you gonna take notes while you’re a wolf?” Stan pointed out.

Ford opened his mouth to answer, but quickly realized he didn’t have one.

“Oh, dude we should get you one of those sound boards like that one dog on the internet has!” Soos suggested. He pulled out his phone and showed them a video illustrating his point.

“Hmm, I’m sure I could ask Fiddleford to rig up something like this, but a full keyboard!” Ford nodded as he watched the video. “I’m still myself as the wolf, so I should be able to spell out what I want to say. We could even connect it to a computer, so I can type!

“If you’re still yourself, then why the heck did you try and bring me back a deer last night?” Stan asked grumpily.

“Ah…” Ford blushed. “Well, I still retain my typical level of intelligence, it just seems there’s quite a lot of wolf instinct that gets superimposed on top of that.”

“Great.” Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. “So, I get that you’re excited to learn more about how werewolves work and all that, but what about after that? Are you just gonna stay a werewolf forever, or is there a cure?”

“Well, last night, the mailman mentioned that getting shot with a silver bullet in the leg will change you back without doing any lasting harm.”

“Yeah, I’m not shooting you every time your transformation is inconvenient.”

“But he wasn’t sure if just any contact with pure silver would do the trick. That’s just one of many things I’ll have to research in the future!”

Stan swallowed a mouthful of oatmeal. “We’d better call the kids. I can’t wait to see the look on Mabel’s face when she finds out you transform into a giant silver poodle under the full moon!”

[hidden-otaku-stuff]

Flowers in Bloom - Connected by Fate

Prompt: flowers that bloom when you touch your soulmate

Pairing: Terushima Yuuji x Seijoh Girls’ Captain Reader

Tw: insecurities, feelings of inferiority, mistaken identities, an emotional breakdown, platonic intimacy

Word count: 5.7k

AN: TBH, I’ve been in a really weird place these past few months and I am so sorry for disappearing. This is the first thing that I’ve been able to finish since November, hence my temporary hiatus. I couldn’t resist joining this collab with the @celestialarchiveshq and my fingers are crossed for more updates of Escape Plan. Until then, enjoy ! 

Collab Masterlist

*****

One more. 

You slide, right arm outstretched, your hand in a fist as you feel sweat-slick legs burning against the ground. 

Just a little further.

Biting down on your lip, the sound of the ball hitting the floor supplemented the sound of your world crashing around you. (E/c) eyes watched as it bounced once, twice, until the whistle blew - signaling the end of the match. Slamming your fists on the ground, your team-mate and vice captain, Akemi, stood over you. “C’mon Capt, let’s line-up.” 

You look at your setter, giving her a stiff nod as you push yourself off the ground. You join the rest of the girls in teal as you stare at your opponents. Nobody really expected you to win. Not against Niiyama. Not against the prefecture’s favorites. You glared at Mayumi, the setter who led Niiyami. Her name every bit as defining of her play-style. Mayumi’s bright smile was blinding as she clapped the back of her teammates. 

You bow with the rest of your team, shaking hands with the Niiyama Queens.

“Perhaps at Spring Tourney,” Mayumi said, holding your hand in her callused ones. “Your serves are getting better.”

The corner of your lips twitch as you nod at her. “I’ll win next time, Mayumi.”

Her eyes sparkled. “I can’t wait to see your next attempt then, (L.Name)-san.”

Your coach calls for you, Akemi tugging on your arm once more. Mayumi’s brown eyes turn to Akemi. “Your technique is getting better, Akemi.” 

Akemi’s grip tightened on your arm, it was clear that she felt the same way with the compliments feeling like a slap to the face. “We’ll beat you next time, Mayumi. Now, if you’ll excuse us.” You both bow to the other captain once more before heading to rejoin your girls. “You know she’s just trying to rile us up.”

“Don’t I know it,” you scoff under your breath, patting her hand. You take a breath before you survey your teammates. They all looked battered, exhausted. It’d been a rough two sets against them with your team not even taking one. Glancing back at the score-board, irritation filled you. The whole time, you were only a few steps behind Niiyama, but it was clear that there was still work to be done. Clearing your throat, you drew your girls’ attention. “You all did an incredible job out there.”

Your libero burst into tears, grabbing your arms, “(Nickname)-san, I’m so sorry. If I had tried harder, I could have recovered more balls and-”

“Don’t.” You pull your arm out of Akemi’s grips, grabbing Ena’s cheeks - your thumb wiping away her tears. “Ena, you did incredible out there. This defeat doesn’t fall on any one person.” Your eyes scan the rest of your teammates as you raise your voice slightly to be heard over the ambience of the court. “We stand on the court as six, not just as one.” A whistle blew as the next team raced in. “C’mon. If we hurry now, we’ll probably be able to catch the rest of the boys’ match.” 

The rest of the girls nod, leaving the gym to head towards the Sendai City Gymnasium. You tug your teal jacket on, hoping that it’ll safeguard you from your own self-depreciative thoughts. Akemi stayed behind, squeezing your shoulder. “I’ll go with them.” The empty question hung in the air. Don’t you need time to grieve? You squeeze her hand before resting your head on it. 

“I’ll be fine.” Swallowing, you take a deep breath. “What kind of a Captain will I be if I can’t be there in front of my girls?”

“Human.” Akemi muttered, but allowed you to pull free and race towards the gym with the rest of the team. 

The loud calls of “Ole!” filled Sendai Gym as you all entered the stands, the girls’ perking up at the familiar cry. They all raced down to the very front of the stands, leaving you to watch at the entrance to the seats as Oikawa landed another powerful serve. 

“No-touch Ace!” Ena cheered, her mood brightening significantly at the sight. Your mouth felt dry as you glanced at the scoreboard. It was to no surprise that they were doing better than you had. Both teams typically made it to the semifinals, but it was apparent that this time would be an exception. Your heart clenched at the realisation that this game may have very well been your last. 

Akemi glanced up at you, seeing your lip quiver. She gave you a stern look, nodding at you. Nodding at her, you spin on your heels and race away. 

Too busy, too many people. You growl internally as (e/c) eyes dart around searching for sanctuary from the hustle and bustle of the tournament. You find yourself near the locker-rooms, the hallway void of life. Back hitting the wall, you slide down as you bury your face into your arms. Molten hot tears escaping from their prison as the last brick of your self-control came tumbling down. Shoulders shook as aggressive thoughts continued to batter at you.

What kind of Captain am I if I couldn’t even keep the ball in play?

Am I even an Ace when I couldn’t smash through those blocks?

“Hey, are you okay?”

Your blood froze as you glanced up at a blurry figure in yellow and red. He crouched closer to you, directly in front of your face. “I’m fine,” you huff, sniffing. 

“Right, cause that’s the only reason why you’d be sitting in a hallway by yourself crying.” The soft tenor of his voice was soothing. “So what’s got you all teary-eyed then, princess?”

You roll your eyes, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. “Don’t call me that.” 

He chuckled, shrugging his shoulders. “If that bothers you, I could always call you babygirl.”

For some reason, your heart skipped a beat at the thought. 

“Why not just call me by my name,” you fired back. 

“Well, I’d need to know your name in order to do that.” He cocked his head to the side. “Unless, you wanted me to know you.” 

Shaking your head, you relax your shoulders ever so slightly. “I’d rather let you be a face lost in the crowd to be honest.”

“Then I’ll call you princess and you can just call me your knight in shining armour,” he teased, plopping down beside you. “So what’s got my princess crying today?” Almond eyes scanned your jacket and jersey. “I’m assuming you played today.” 

You snorted, “if you meant, did I get viciously defeated by my own lack of skill, then yes, I definitely did.” 

The male frowned, eyeing you. “If you made it to the quarter-finals, I highly doubt you don’t have skills.” He wrapped an arm around you, tugging you into his side. You try to push off, not wanting your tears to stain his yellow jacket only for him to pull more insistently. “It’s okay to be upset about a loss, and it’s okay to be emotional about it. But don’t put the blame all on yourself.” His thumb rubbed against your shoulder. “Besides, after this, you can focus on putting that energy towards improving yourself for the next time.” 

“If there is a next time,” you mutter, taking in his rich woodsy scent. 

“Well there won’t be if you think like that.”   

 Sitting in silence, his words washing over you. Your sorrows, your self-deprecating thoughts, disappearing as if they were footsteps in the sand and his statements the ocean’s waves erasing them from existence. 

His phone vibrated, rumbling against your hips. 

When had you gotten so close to him? 

“That’s probably my team.” He turns towards you, a calloused hand cupping your cheek as his thumb wiped the glistening silver remnants on your cheek. “Keep your head up, princess, don’t let that crown fall.” Brown eyes met (e/c) eyes, drawing you deeper into his spell than you had anticipated. His warm breath hummed against your lips. 

Why were you leaning in? 

“Oi, Terushima!” He flinched away, drawing back abruptly as the door slammed open. “OH shit, my bad,” the imposing male apologised, backing away. “We’ll meet you outside, Capt!” 

“Sorry,” Terushima grumbled, shaking his head. “I’ll see you some other time, princess. Hopefully you aren’t crying then,” he teased before getting up and dusting his pants before making his way out - your eyes following his back. Taking a moment longer to compose yourself, you too stood up and made your way back to the stands.

“So where’d you end up?” 

“Nowhere,” you grumbled as you met Akemi at the entrance to the stands once more. The setter was leaning against the wall, arms crossed as she patiently waited for your arrival. “Where are the rest of the girls?”

“They met up with the rest of the volleyball team while we’re waiting for the others to get out of the locker-room. Did you wanna go grab dinner with the boys?” 

“We’ll grab dinner with them tomorrow after they beat Shiratorizawa,” you reply, confidence ringing in your heart. “C’mon, let’s get the girls so that we can shower and change out.” 

You turn only to collide into solid, muscular planes, causing you to yelp. Arms shot out to steady you, helping you. “Are you okay?” Looking up, eyebrows furrowed in concern. 

As you open your mouth to respond, a call of your name drew your attention away. “(Nickname)-chan!” Your best friend sang, pompously making his way to your side with a forceful smile on his face. “I didn’t hear you cheering for me today,” he pouted, throwing his arms around your shoulders and pulling you out of the ace’s grip. “Ushijima.” Oikawa cocked his head, his smile slipping into a smirk. “Checking out the competition?”

Ushijima tilted his head, raising an eyebrow at the captain’s antics. “Why would I be scared? Aoba Johsai has yet to take a set from us.” 

Oikawa’s grip on your shoulder tightened. “We’ll see how confident you are tomorrow when we crush you,” he sneered. “C’mon, (Nickname), let’s go.” Akemi rolled her eyes as Oikawa dragged you away towards your teams, muttering an apology to Ushijima before following suit. 

“You’re so rude to him,” you roll your eyes at Oikawa.

“Like you wouldn’t be if you saw Mayumi all over me,” Oikawa retorted. 

“Touche.” You sigh, making it to the Seijoh teams. “C’mon ladies, let’s go get changed and we’ll head out for the night. Good job out there, boys!” 

With final murmurs of departure, the girls slipped away towards their locker-rooms in order to shower.

*****

“Captain, your flowers!” 

“Huh?” 

You jolt, looking at your forearm. The buds that had yet to bloom all these years finally have, splatters of violet and blue encompassing your (skin-tone) flesh. The other girls crowd around you, staring in mixed responses of awe and inspiration - all in various stages of undress.

“Who is it?” Ena asked excitedly, bouncing on the balls of her feet. 

Staring at it, your mouth dries. Who could it have been? Ushijima Wakatoshi, the one who caught you? Any of the team-members on the Niiyama team? Perhaps even someone from the Date Tech team who you’d played earlier in the day? Or maybe even the guy who you picked up the bentos from for your team’s lunch? 

“I...I don’t know,” you mumble, mouth dry. You look up to see their faces. Pity and confusion filled most of their expressions. Clearing your throat, you throw on a tattered navy hoodie. “If you’re finished changing, please feel free to leave.” 

The snap of metal shook most of them out of their reverie as you closed your locker, throwing your bag over your shoulder. Akemi remained beside you as the rest of the girls finished up, quickly filing out though some threw furtive glances over their shoulders as they departed. 

“You okay, Cap?” 

“I’ll be fine, ‘Kemi. You should head out, I’m sure you’re tired.”

Akemi rolled her eyes, bumping her shoulder into yours. “I’m sure you’ll find each other again.” 

“Mmhm.” 

“G’night, Cap. See you tomorrow.”  

Rolling up the sleeve of your hoodie, you stared down at the ink. The gods really wanted to test you today, didn’t they? First by placing you in the same bracket as Niiyama, secondly by taunting you with your other half only to rip them away with barely a hint to their identity. It’s not like soulmates had matching flower tattoos, nor who could say with confidence that they knew exactly who their soulmate was unless they both knew when their flowers had bloomed? 

“You met your soulmate?” Oikawa grinned, noting the colourful display on your arm. The male was standing patiently under the street-light waiting for you. Iwaizumi had headed home first, citing exhaustion and an eagerness to sleep to prepare for the upcoming match. “Who is it?” 

“Fuck if I knew,” you shot back angrily, stomping towards him. 

His face drops, “what?” 

“I don’t know who my soulmate is, Oikawa.” You push past him, pulling your bag closer over your shoulder. “If I knew, I would have told you already dumbass.” 

His face drops, forehead creasing in concern. “Are you okay?” He says in a low voice, easily catching up to you as you both walk out of the gym.

“Does it look like I’m okay?” 

You look into the darkening sky, the violet hues reminding you of the ink that marred your skin. The permanent reminder that you had met your soulmate only to have lost them just as soon. A star danced across the sky. I wish I could meet my soulmate again.  

Oikawa eyes you carefully, for once at a loss as to what to say. You both remain quiet, only giving one another a tight hug at the crossroads where you’d turn to head to your respective homes. You squeeze each other tightly. Him, to comfort you for your disappointing day. You, to congratulate him for his wins and to wish him luck in tomorrow’s match. (E/c) eyes meet brown as you each give one another a nod. 

Tomorrow will be life-changing, you promise one another.

******

The final whistle blew once more, calling the end for another game. Another person’s career ending here on this court. 

“(L.Name)-san.” 

Surprise ricocheted through your body as you looked up to greet whoever had called your name. Above you, a looming figure of muscle entered your field of vision. “Ushijima-san?” 

“May we speak in private?”

Chewing on your lip, you look over at Akemi who shrugged before disappearing into the crowd towards the rest of the Seijoh boys. The rest of the girls had already gone ahead, slipping into the mass of teal in order to comfort their counterparts - just as the boys had done the night before. As soon as the match had ended, you’d all race down in order to greet the challengers.

Clearing your throat, you straighten your back in an attempt to match Ushijima. “What is it you wanted to talk about, Ushijima-san?”

He shifted on his feet. “I believe that we are soulmates.”

Your brain short-circuited. “Wait, what?”  

Ushijima rolled up his maroon sleeve, showcasing the hues of red and pink on his bicep - a gladioli flower. “My flowers bloomed and I noticed it after I helped you from falling.” His eyes fell onto your forearms, noting your own violet bouquet. “Did that bloom yesterday as well?”

Tongue heavy in your mouth, you could only nod. Ushijima? Ushijima Wakatoshi? One of the top aces in the country was your soulmate? Just how cruel were the fates? Not only was Ushijima the sole reason why your best friend failed to make it to nationals, but he served as a reminder to your own failures in your volleyball career. 

Ushijima hummed, the deep baritone shaking you out of your reverie. “Being that we are soulmates, I suppose this is the time that I ask for your contact information.”

“My, my contact info?”

He cocked his head, brows furrowing. “Yes, we should get to know one another, shouldn’t we?”

“Right!” You fumble for your phone, pulling it out and handing it to the ace - the phone looking small in his massive palms. He carefully inputted his number, calling himself before handing the device back to you. 

A shout of his name drew his olive eyes away from your form, a reminder that you both were still in Sendai City Gymnasium. “I need to go prepare for the award ceremony.” He looks back down at you. “I will contact you later to arrange a date.”

“Right,” you repeat, forcing your head into a nod. Ushijima bows at you before heading back towards the rest of his team. The girls escape from the boys, rejoining you at your side.

“What did Ushiwaka want with you?” Chihiro, one of the second year middle-blockers, asked, looking between you and the lumbering ace. 

“He’s my soulmate.”

“What?!?” Various cries filled the air, calling for more eyes to fall upon the group as you try to hush your team. 

“Both of our flowers bloomed yesterday, and he knows for a fact that his bloomed after he touched me.” 

“Congratulations Cap!” The girls drew you into a hug, all squeezing together. Only one person stood apart from the group, waiting patiently for her own turn. As the team withdrew, chattering about soulmates and how lucky you were to have found yours, Akemi made her way to you. She grabbed you by the biceps, resting her forehead against yours - both of your eyes fluttering shut at the intimacy of it.

“I’m happy for you, (Nickname).” 

Your throat constricted at the familiarity of her voice. “I appreciate you, ‘Kemi.” 

Akemi had been there for you ever since you had both joined the volleyball team at Kitagawa First. Just as Oikawa had Iwaizumi, you had Akemi. An ace with their setter. You stay close to her for a moment longer before pulling away and clearing your throat. “We should go take our seats for the award ceremony.”

The first years grabbed your arms, pulling you with them as they asked you about your soulmate, how you were feeling about being mated to THE Ushijima Wakatoshi. Akemi watched quietly for a moment longer before joining the group as you made your way towards the Seijoh section of the stands. 

Of course, the congratulations were quick to end as soon as your favourite setter found out what had happened.

“Ushiwaka is your soulmate?” Oikawa screeched, his face red as his voice jumped several octaves. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”  Oikawa scowled, glaring at your bluebells as if they were to blame for your predicament. It’s funny how people always looked to place the blame on things that were only involved as an unhappy circumstance.  

“Hey! It’s not like I asked for this, Oikawa.”

He crossed his arms, narrowed eyes meeting yours. “Are you sure? Because it sure seems like it,” he sneers. “Of course you’d be mated to my mortal enemy, wouldn’t you?”

Iwaizumi smacked Oikawa over the head, face darkened with irritation. “Why can’t you just be happy for (Name)? You know they’ve been stressing about this.” 

Oikawa rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and huffing. “Fine. If Ushiwaka is your soulmate, then you better be ready to comfort him when I beat him at Spring Tournament”

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi warned threateningly, rolling his sleeves up.

“And I’ll beat his ass if he ends up hurting you.”

Iwaizumi paused before looking back at you. “Same though.”

Rolling your eyes, you dragged the two into a tight hug. “I love you two, too.”

“More than Ushiwaka?” Oikawa asked cheekily, holding you close to him.

“More than Ushiwaka,” you confirmed, giggling while you patted his back affectionately. No matter who your soulmate was, that will never take away from your relationship with your best friend. 

*****

“Hey there princess!” You jolt, looking up to see a grinning male waving at you while he approached you. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“I didn’t expect to see you anytime soon,” you reply, amused as he stands in front of you, hands stuck in his pockets. 

The male shrugs, jerking his head in the direction he’d just come from. “I have college prep down the street from here, and I’ll sometimes go to the cafe afterwards just to hang-out.” He scruntises you carefully. “What brings you here?”

You readjust your bag, looking at the cafe that you’d just left. “I was meeting with my soulmate.”

Terushima paused, looking back down at you. “Your soulmate, huh?” He cocks his head. “Why don’t you seem more excited?”

Freezing, you take a moment to consider his words. Did you seem that bored? “I am excited!” You defended yourself.

He leans in closer, almond eyes meeting yours as he examines you. A shiver shoots down your spine due to the close proximity. It almost felt like he was able to see right through you - right to the deep center of your very existence. “If that was the case, wouldn’t you be leaving with him? Or her?”

Heat flared in your cheeks as you whipped your face away from his. “That’s none of your concern.”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Huh?”

Terushima cocks his head, a smirk sliding onto his face. “I’m your knight-in-shining armour, princess, and I refuse to let you be unhappy even if it’s because of your soulmate.”  Huffing, you turn away from him and start the journey back home. Terushima chuckled softly, easily catching up to you. Ignoring him, you think back to your date.

All around you two, the cafe was bustling with life. Across the room, a rowdy group of boys were heckling their friend. Your finger tapped against your cup as you and your companion sit quietly. 

“What-” “How-” 

You and Ushijima both stop in your tracks, looking at one another.  

“You can go first,” Ushijima offered.

“No you.” 

Another awkward silence settled over you two. Your eyes wander, falling on another pair - evidently also on a date. But they looked so happy with one another, easily finding themselves in one conversation and losing themselves during it. Shouldn’t it be easy? After all, you were soulmates, right?

Swallowing thickly, you meet olive eyes that shine with acknowledgement. He gives you a slight nod. “Perhaps we should start at the beginning?” He offers,waiting for you to nod before continuing. “I am Ushijima Wakatoshi, a student at Shiratorizawa. I enjoy volleyball and plan on making it my career.”

The corner of your lips twitch into a faint smile. “Hi Ushijima-san. I am (L.Name, Name), a student at Aoba Johsai. I also enjoy volleyball and I hope that I can be involved with it professionally.”

At least we have that in common, you think to yourself.

Sipping from your cup, you resign yourself to the fact that it might take time for the two of you to act like ‘proper’ soulmates.

“What’s got you all twisted up?”

“What?”

Terushima rolls his eyes, kicking a rock out of his way. “Like what’s bugging you?”

“I don’t think we’re close enough for me to tell you that,” you tease, bumping into his shoulder. 

“I mean, I am your knight-in-shining armour for a reason, right?” Brown eyes carefully watch your features, waiting for your reaction. 

You remain quiet for a moment longer, pearly whites digging into your bottom lip. “So much for being lost in the crowd,” you mutter to yourself. Sighing, you look up into the sky to avoid making eye contact with the unruly male beside you. “I had my first ‘date’ with my soulmate and to be honest, it wasn’t what I imagined. Like, I always thought it’d be easy for us to hangout and just be with one another, but it almost...felt like a chore.” 

A heavy weight slipped off your chest as soon as you said it, words dragged to your lips from the deepest, darkest part of your heart. Voicing your concerns felt liberating, validating to say the least. 

Terushima remained silent, his gaze still on you. It delved deep into you, stripping you bare under his scrutiny. Your fingers fiddled with the volleyball keychain on your lanyard, squeezing it as if to distract yourself from the emotional havoc you’ve reaped on yourself. 

“Y’know, soulmates or not, it’s still a relationship. It’ll take time to develop into whatever you hope it is, and you don’t have to define it as a traditional ‘romantic’ relationship if that isn’t what suits you and your soulmate.” Terushima shrugged, fists clenched in his pockets - hidden from your view. 

Pausing, you look at him. “Have you found your soulmate, Terushima?” 

He jolts out of his thoughtful stupor, casting his gaze back onto you. He offers you a small smile. “Yeah, and she’s absolutely incredible.”

For some reason, your heart hurt hearing that. Tongue heavy in your mouth, you barely manage to choke out a “I’m happy for you.” Looking up to search for a distraction, you were both pleased and sad to find that you’d arrived at your bus station. Though you barely knew him, you found yourself drawn into conversation with him. “Well, this is my stop.” Terushima opens his mouth to say something only for your bus to pull up. “Catch you on the flip-side, Terushima.” You offer the male a small smile before boarding.

“Yeah, you definitely will,” he murmurs to himself, waving to you as your bus departs. You sink into the seat, eyes fluttering shut as you massage your temple. This soulmate thing felt like more trouble than it was worth.

*****

“Hey, it’s you!” 

Turning, you raise an eyebrow at the persistent male. The bouncing yellow-clad figure was oddly reminiscent of a Mikasa volleyball. “Terushima?”

“In the flesh,” he responded cheekily, bowing to you with a huge flourish. Embarrassment filled your body as you scowled at his antics. 

“What are you doing here?”

“What does it look like?” He jabs a thumb into his chest. “About to beat Karasuno in order to play against your boys.” 

“Is that so?” You smirk. “Well, I look forward to watching you play then.” 

His grin becomes almost comically wide. “Hey, find me after the game. I have something to tell you.” 

Raising your eyebrows, you nod softly. “You better win, Sir Knight.”

“With you in the stands, I definitely will,” he responded cheekily. A call of his name dragged his attention away from you. “I better hear you cheering for me, princess!” He pressed his lips to your cheek before darting away, disappearing before you even had a chance to react. Your fingertips grazed the spot where his lips had touched your skin, electricity coursing through your veins from that second of contact. 

What on Earth was he thinking? You shake your head, making your way to the stands where Akemi was waiting for you. “What took you so long?”

“An annoying Teletubby stopped me in the hallway,” you rolled your eyes, before looking around the stadium. “Should we get closer?”

Akemi shrugged, “why not?”

The two of you made your way down to the rails, watching as the Karasuno team warmed up. “They’re definitely not what you’d expect,” you mused as you surveyed the various members. “These are the guys who beat Date Tech?” 

Akemi shrugged, “don’t underestimate them. They didn’t do too badly against Oikawa during Interhigh too.”

The whistle blew with Karasuno serving first. “Damn, that’s a nice serve,” you comment as you watched the samurai-looking male serve. 

“Man that’s intense!” You heard over the roar of the audience, your eyes immediately finding Terushima. 

“Chance ball!” Karasuno cries, only for your eyes to widen.

He couldn’t-

Terushima slams the ball back towards their court, a powerful back attack that sent chills straight down your spine. Leaning against the railing, you couldn’t help but watch his figure as he jumped around. Just who exactly was your knight-in-shining armour? Your lips quirked up into a smile as you watched Terushima jump in glee. 

What a dork, you thought fondly. 

Beside you, Akemi carefully watched your expressions - her own considerations deeply veiled. These past few months, she’d listen to you go on dates with Ushijima only to return dissatisfied with the progression of your relationship. But now, seeing this sparkle in your eye, she couldn’t help but wonder if the two of you had been mistaken after all. 

She cleared her throat. “Do you know him?”

Your eyes never left Terushima as Akemi’s question invaded your mind. “Vaguely,” you respond finally. “He’s always shown up in unexpected places.”

Akemi hummed, falling silent as she turned back to the match. Her lips pulled up. “I see.” 

As the game progressed, you couldn’t help but be drawn to Terushima. He played as if volleyball was his oxygen, his very purpose of life. The way he moved, it was clear that he was made for the sport, though his more outlandish actions filled you with more amusement than admiration. You howled with laughter when Johzenji attempted to do the synchronized attack, desperately holding onto the railing to steady yourself. Akemi rolled her eyes, chuckling under her breath. She shook her head, a hand hovering over your waist as you wiped away your tears. 

“That was too damn funny,” you admitted. 

Terushima’s eyes found you in the stands, his smile brighter than a summer’s sun. He waved, causing a sudden shyness to wash over you. Giving him a small wave back, Terushima looked like a puppy who finally got the attention it had been begging for - tail practically waving for all to see. After taking a few deep breaths, you settled back into watching the rest of the match. 

*****

“There you are!” The familiar voice called out to you, pulling you towards him as if you were two magnets. 

“You played so well out there!” You grin, though you couldn’t help the snide remark. “Too bad you couldn’t beat them.”

“Oi!” he pouted, crossing his arms. “All that matters is that we had fun, right?”

You raise an eyebrow, “sure about that?”

He sighed, shaking his head. “Nah, I wish we made it to the next round.”

“Exactly.” You both stand there quietly for a moment. “What is it that you wanted to show me?”

“Oh!” He gulped, fingers playing with one another. “C’mere.”

“Wha-”

You were cut off as Terushima yanked you towards an empty hallway. The two of you had been standing in the main lobby of the gymnasium. 

“Why are we here?” You scowled, ignoring the ambush of emotions and shocks that coursed through your body at his touch. 

“Promise me you won’t be mad?”

The sheer vulnerability in his voice had you reaching out to grab his hand, automatically agreeing. “I promise. What’s going on, Terushima?”

“You’re my soulmate.”

“What?” You stare directly into his eyes, head shaking slightly. “What do you mean?”   

He gulps, sighing before he pulled down the collar of his jersey to reveal pink and red camellias. “These bloomed after the first time that we met.”

“Wait but, Ushijima?” Shaky fingers reached out, freezing just millimeters away from the painted skin. “How do you know for sure?”

Terushima shrugged, tongue sweeping across his bottom lip. “You were the only person I touched that day.” 

“I-”

Terushima gently grasped onto your wrist. “I know you and Ushijima were seeing each other for a bit, but I promise you, I’m not lying. I know you’re my soulmate.” 

“Terushima…” Tears welled up in your eyes. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

He shrugged, “I wanted you to get to know me for me, not just because I was your soulmate.”

You roll your eyes, shoving him in the chest. “You’re the dumbest person I know.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“Because I could have been spending this time with you instead of going on dates that feel like they’re going nowhere and making me feel worse about myself.” 

His face split into a grin, his body relaxing. “So does that mean..?”

You roll your eyes, grabbing his hand in yours. “Yeah, dumbass, you’re really stuck with me now.” 

He chuckles, bringing your hand to his lips. “Princess, I’m more than okay with that!” 

*****

“Y’know, I’m not sure if thinking Ushijima was your soulmate is worse, or if this is.” Oikawa grumbled, eyeing the pierced male beside you. Oikawa covers his mouth with one hand in a stage whisper, “you know he’s a player right?” You roll your eyes. It wasn’t like that actually helped to hide his words, causing Terushima’s grip on your hand to tighten slightly. 

“You think anybody would be a terrible match for me,” you retorted. “Besides, people think you’re a player too, Oikawa.” 

“Yeah but at least I’m cute!” Your best friend argued.

Terushima offers you both a smirk. “I think of a few dozen girls who would say that I’m pretty attractive myself.”

You glare at your soulmate, easily freeing your hand from his. “Maybe you can have those girls instead then, Terushima.” 

“Wait-”

Turning your body completely, you shut Terushima out of the conversation as you and Oikawa chat about your futures, arms linked with one another. Terushima’s smirk becomes a smile as you throw him a flirty wink over his shoulder. Though he hadn’t really gotten to know you quite yet, he already knew that you were both meant to be. After all, the flowers on his chest and the flowers on your arms said as much and now that you had both really found one another again, you had the rest of your lives to figure out just how compatible you were.

*****

BONUS

“Has (Name) talked to you yet?” Akemi asked, standing beside the impressive ace as they surveyed the scene together. 

They watched as (Name) pushed her best friend off, laughing at his antics only for Terushima to take this opportunity pull him towards her, throwing an arm over her shoulder and tucking her into his side. 

Her (e/c) eyes twinkled like the lone moon in a violet sky, bright and captivating to watch. Pink lips pressed to her forehead, causing that light to shine even brighter. 

Akemi glanced over to the ace who had a blank expression on his face. “What’s on your mind?”

“I did not think that we were soulmates. Not truly.” 

“Oh?” 

Olive turned to meet brown, meeting her directly. “You knew all along.” 

 Akemi shrugged, giving him a soft smile. “Perhaps.”

“Why did you not say anything sooner?”

“How could I convince my soulmate that he was going after the wrong person?” 

Ushijima offered her a rare smile, bowing his head. “Ushijima Wakatoshi, your soulmate and the fool for thinking someone else was mine.”

She grinned, bowing back to him. “Akemi Sato, the person who allowed their soulmate to think otherwise.”

“Shall we go somewhere?” 

“Let’s.”

*****

FUN FACTS

🌸 (Name) has bluebells for her flowers. They signify gratitude and are associated with everlasting love and constancy. In Japanese, they represent ‘gratitude’

🌸 Terushjima has camellias which convey gratitude and love. Pink camellias represent longing and red signifies that a person can ‘hold a flame in [my] heart’. In Japanese, they represent ‘waiting’

🌸 Ushijima had the gladioli, which were the flower of the gladiators. Symbolising strength and moral integrity, they can also represent infatuation and passion. 

🌸 Akemi means ‘beautiful and bright’

🌸 Mayumi meants ‘Elegant, beauty, truth’

*****

general taglist:  @newfriendjen​  @kyomihann @cheerysparkle​ @seiijixcia​ @shoyomeow​ @tsumue​ @terminallyvolatile​ @aruhappy​ @crystal-lilac​

[aalissy]

Anniversary

Day 22 is doneee!! Sorry it’s pretty late but I’ve been swamped with work now that finals week is coming up D:. I’m not readyyyy. Anywho, I hope you guys like this chapter!! Lemme know what you think <3

AO3

Adrien flopped onto his bed with a loud groan. Slowly, he pulled out his phone to stare at his lockscreen with a fond smile. It was a picture of him and Marinette that he had taken a few months after they had revealed their identities. In it, she was kissing his cheek as he grinned at the camera rather dopily. With a quiet sigh, he checked the date. Yep, he was definitely screwed. With another pained moan, Adrien buried his head in his pillow.

He felt Plagg squirm out of his pocket before the small kwami floated above him. Adrien was absolutely certain that he was staring down at him rather judgmentally. With a soft exhale, Plagg spoke, “What’s got you so down in the dumps, kid?”

Adrien spoke into the pillow, his words coming out muffled and inaudible.

The kwami snickered at that. “You’re going to have to speak up, Adrien. I may be a God but I’m not all-knowing.”

He lifted his head up, staring blankly at his headboard before speaking rather monotonously, “I said that the anniversary of my first meeting with Marinette is tonight and I still don’t know what I’m getting her.”

“Just get her some camembert,” Plagg shrugged. “That’s the best gift that you can give anyone. Plus, you might not have a lot of time but you do have plenty of cheese.”

Adrien turned around to glare at his kwami. “I can’t just give her stinky cheese, Plagg! She’s worth more than that. Besides, I just know she’s going to make me something amazing while I still don’t know what to get her.”

“Well, why don’t you just make her another good luck charm then? She seemed to like the last one you gave her.”

He sighed, scrubbing his face with a hand before muttering, “I can’t get her the exact same present, either. That’s too unoriginal.”

Plagg rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. “Then just take her out somewhere. That’s easy and simple. Besides, I know she’d love that.”

A light flush lit up Adrien’s cheeks. Images of him taking Marinette out to a nice dinner filled his thoughts. He’d pull out her chair and could finally brush a kiss on her soft cheek. Marinette would giggle and turn pink and he would be able to give her a lovestruck smile. They’d finish the date and he’d walk her up to the front door of the bakery before he would, at long last, lean in to give her a kiss that they’d both be able to remember.

Snapping out of his daydreams, Adrien finally realized that Plagg was smirking directly at him. His blush turned a shade darker as he rubbed the back of his neck. Glancing back at the phone screen, he mumbled, “I can’t just ask her out, Plagg, as much as I might like to. Marinette’s important to me and I already know that she’s in love with another boy. Besides, we’ve already decided to meet at the top of the Eiffel Tower later tonight.”

“Right,” his kwami drawled sarcastically with a roll of his eyes, “Then I really don’t know how to help you, kid.”

Adrien pursed his lips, tapping his phone against his lips. Flipping his body around, he stared blankly up at his ceiling and tried to come up with more ideas. Heaving a sigh, he began scrolling through his camera roll, looking at the many pictures he had taken with Marinette for inspiration. Eventually, an idea sparked in his mind and his eyes lit up.

Sitting up straight on his bed, he grinned brightly. “Plagg, I can make her a photo album! That’s pretty easy to make and it shows her some of our best memories together!”

Plagg stuck out his tongue, making a face. “Blech, you may as well write her a heartfelt poem at that rate. I thought you were trying not to tell Marinette you were in love with her.”

Adrien turned a deep red even as he glared up at his kwami. His lips tightened as his eyes blazed angrily. “Shut up, Plagg! I know she’ll love it.”

Not waiting for his kwami’s answer, Adrien went over to his computer to begin printing some of the pictures he had already saved. Finding images of him and Marinette was easy, considering he took a picture with her every time they hung out. It was choosing which one of them would go in the album that was difficult. Marinette looked amazing in every one of them and Adrien couldn’t help but grin adoringly at his computer screen as he worked on his project.

After finally selecting and printing all of the pictures, he set to work on making the actual photo album. Scrambling through his desk drawer, he found an old scrapbook. With a satisfied smile, Adrien began carefully gluing the images onto the pages. So focused on the book, he barely noticed when Plagg hovered nearby to peer over his shoulder. Once he had filled every page, he took a few colored pencils and began doodling small images on the pages. Adrien’s tongue stuck out in concentration as he worked hard on making certain it looked good.

When he had finally finished, he held the book out in front of him with a beaming grin. He then quickly shoved the book into his backpack before shouting proudly. “I did it!”

Adrien then grabbed his phone and checked the time, feeling his eyes bulge out of his head. “And not a moment to lose either! Plagg, claws out!”

The kwami got sucked into the ring with a loud yelp. Chat Noir then leaped out from his bedroom window, making his way over to their meeting spot on the Eiffel Tower. When he finally got there, he saw Ladybug tapping her foot at him impatiently.

“You’re late,” she huffed at him, her arms crossing over her chest.

“By five minutes, m’lady,” Chat gave her a bow. “Plagg wanted a snack before he transformed.”

Immediately, her arms uncrossed as her sapphire eyes sparkled at him in amusement. A mischievous smile twitched at her lips as Ladybug giggled adorably, “You were still working on my gift, weren’t you?”

“What can I say?” Chat shrugged his shoulders sheepishly. “I’m a purrcatsinator.”

She scrunched her face up at his pun even as her smile grew fonder. Punching his shoulder lightly, Ladybug laughed. “That was terrible! Now, can we detransform so I don’t have to hear any more silly cat puns from you?”

He couldn’t stop the goofy smile from stretching across his face at her laugh. Chuckling along with her, he nodded his head. “Alright, but unfurtunately for you, m’lady, the puns may stay even when I’m Adrien. You’ve already told me that you pawsitively love my sense of humor.”

She flicked his bell with a roll of her eyes. “That was before I knew that after I made that comment you would make a cat pun every other sentence.”

Chat chuckled, his eyes fluttering closed before he called for his detransformation, “Plagg, claws in.”

“Tikki, spots off.”

Opening his eyes back up, he saw Marinette’s face grinning back at him sweetly. Instantly, he ran towards her and wrapped her up in a tight hug. Leaning in, he whispered in her ear quietly, “Joyeux anniversaire, Marinette.”

“Joyeux anniversaire, Adrien,” she murmured back before brushing a light kiss against his cheeks.

Adrien’s heart thumped painfully in his chest as he pulled back to stare into her bright, blue eyes. How was she this perfect? And, for that matter, how did he get so lucky?

Plagg’s cough broke their tender moment though. He then spoke up, even as Tikki gave him a harsh glare, “All this lovey-dovey stuff is giving me a headache. Can I get my camembert, now?”

“Plagg!” Tikki hissed, her lips pursing as she crossed her arms. “Be quiet!”

Marinette simply giggled before stepping out of his embrace. His arms felt empty without her there and he disappointedly dropped them before turning to his kwami. She stepped up first, though, pulling a macaron out of her purse as she held it out for the tiny creature. “It’s alright, Tikki. I know you’re hungry too.”

Her kwami’s glare immediately disappeared as she took the macaron with a grateful smile. Adrien then sighed before pulling out the piece of camembert he knew his kwami wanted. Plagg’s face instantly lit up before he gulped the cheese down in one bite.

When he then turned away from Plagg with a disgusted grimace to face Marinette, he saw her staring up at him with a rather nervous smile. In her hands was a black, wool sweater that contained a small, green pawprint next to a tiny ladybug. Instantly, he took it from her with a gasp of awe.

Rocking back on her heels, Marinette murmured, “I hope you like it.”

“Marinette, I absolutely adore it. It’s purrfect for me.” Adrien gave her a bright grin, already excited to go home so he could try it on. Realizing he had his own gift, he then dug through his backpack and thrust out the picture album. “I got you this! It’s nowhere near as amazing as yours but I still hope you like it.”

She blinked before slowly taking the book from him. Opening up the first few pages, her eyes immediately softened before she cooed happily. Looking up at him, Marinette threw her arms around him once again, murmuring, “Adrien, this is absolutely amazing! I love it so much! I hadn’t even realized you had this many pictures of us.”

She leaned back before giving him a quick kiss on the lips. Of course, almost as soon as he realized that Marinette was kissing him, she pulled back with a gasp of horror. Adrien’s lower lip jutted out slightly as he quietly groaned at the fact that he didn’t even get to kiss back before she began stammering, “I-I am so, so sorry, Adrien! I don’t know why I just did that. I know you don’t like me that way anymore!”

Immediately, he frowned an almost indignant feeling building up inside of him. Didn’t like her anymore?! Was she blind? He spent practically every waking moment with her and she didn’t think he liked her. Wait... did that mean?

Slowly, Adrien reached out and grasped onto her hands tightly. Marinette peered up at him with a quiet sniffle, looking anxious. He gave her a soft smile before murmuring, “Marinette, I’ve been in love with you for years. That still hasn’t changed. B-but I thought that you were in love with someone else.”

She looked shocked, her mouth was gaping open as she practically stared at him with disbelief. Slowly, she shook her head before gulping. “A-Adrien, the boy was you. I-it’s always been you for me too.”

“So, all this time?” He breathed out incredulously.

Marinette nodded her head before a large smile bloomed across her face. Cautiously, she lifted her hands to cup his face, her grin getting even bigger as he leaned into her palms. “D-do you think we can make up for lost time, then?” she whispered.

“Definitely.” Adrien nodded back before the two of them leaned in, connecting their lips together into a kiss they’d both remember. As his hands ran through her hair, tugging out her pigtails out, he made a promise to himself. He was never going to let her go again. Pulling back, he placed his forehead against hers with a light chuckle. “So, is this still going to be the anniversary of our first meeting or is it going to be our first anniversary.”

Marinette threw her head back to laugh loudly. Eventually, she leaned back in to flick at his nose playfully. “Both, my silly kitty.”

“Both it is,” he said before wrapping her up in another perfect kiss.

[jiangwanyinscatmom]

1- you know JC stans always try to deflect claiming LQR LXC LWJ and NMJ are all equally at fault bc they didn't stand for trhe wens either but JC and WWX are literally the only two people who know the truth about the wen sibs and he decided not to tell anyone so the public has no means of knowing everything they did and risked for him, they literally committed treason to save the jiang sect and protect them from the wen army but in the eyes of the public they are known as loyal disciples to WRH-

Thank you for the question anon!

Relevant passages in regards to this issue posted first since a lot of it gets very misconstrued with what blame lies where with the Sect Leaders before the events when it came to the massacre at Nightless City and the deaths of the Wen Remnants. This is not necessarily clean cut after the fallout with Jin Zixuan and Jin Zixun's deaths. This is also still with the underlying plot of Jin Guangshan aiming for the Yin Hu Fu. There is a lot of political intrigue that goes ignored with this by manipulation of the Jin Sect and Jiang Cheng being blinded by his own jealousy.

“… Four inspectors were harmed. Around fifty of the remaining Wen Sect members escaped. After Wei WuXian led them into Burial Mound, he summoned hundreds of fierce corpses to patrol the base of the mountain. Our people still can’t get any further.”

“… Four inspectors were harmed. Around fifty of the remaining Wen Sect members escaped. After Wei WuXian led them into Burial Mound, he summoned hundreds of fierce corpses to patrol the base of the mountain. Our people still can’t get any further.”

When he finished, silence filled the Golden Pavilion.

Jiang Cheng only spoke after a few moments, “What he did was indeed a bit too much. Sect Leader Jin, I apologize to you in place of him. If there’s any way at all to help the situation, please let me know. I’ll definitely compensate for things however I can.”

What Jin GuangShan wanted, however, wasn’t his apology or his compensation, “Sect Leader Jiang, at first, for your sake, the LanlingJin Sect didn’t intend on saying anything. However, some of these inspectors weren’t from the Jin Sect. There were a few from other sects as well. This makes it…”

Jiang Cheng’s brows were knitted. He rubbed the vein that throbbed at his temple and soundlessly took in a deep breath, “… I apologize to all of the Sect Leaders. Everyone, I’m afraid you don’t know that the Wen cultivator whom Wei WuXian wanted to save was called Wen Ning. We owe him and his sister Wen Qing gratitude for what happened during the Sunshot Campaign.”

Nie MingJue, “You owe them gratitude? Isn’t the QishanWen Sect the ones who caused the YunmengJiang Sect’s annihilation?”

Within these few years, Jiang Cheng insisted on working late into the night every day. That day, just as he decided to rest early, he had to rush to Koi Tower overnight because of the thundering news. He’d been suppressing some anger under his fatigue since the beginning. With his natural competitiveness, he was already quite agitated since he had to apologize to other people. When he heard Nie MingJue mention the incident of his sect again, hatred sprouted within him.

The hatred was directed at not only everyone who was seated in this room, but also Wei WuXian.

Passage 2:

Using the atmosphere, Jin GuangShan turned to Jiang Cheng, “He’s been plotting for a while to go to Burial Mound, hasn’t he? After all, with his skills, it wouldn’t be too hard to set up a sect of his own. And so, he used this as a chance to leave the Jiang Sect, intending to do whatever he pleases in the bright skies outside. You rebuilt the YunmengJiang Sect with so much work. He’s got a few controversial traits in him to begin with, and still he doesn’t restrain himself, stirring up so much trouble for you. He doesn’t care about you at all.”

Jiang Cheng pretended to stand his ground, “That probably isn’t that case. Wei WuXian has been like this ever since he was young. Even my father couldn’t do anything about him.”

Jin GuangShan, “Even FengMian-xiong couldn’t do anything about him, huh?” He chuckled a few times, “FengMian-xiong just favored him.”

Hearing the words ‘favors him’, the muscles beside the corners of Jiang Cheng’s mouth twitched.

Jin GuangShan continued, “Sect Leader Jiang, you’re not like your father. It’s just been a couple of years since the reestablishment of the YunmengJiang Sect, precisely when you should be displaying your power. And he doesn’t even know to avoid suspicions. What would the Jiang Sect’s new disciples think if they saw him? Don’t tell me you’d let them see him as their role model and look down on you?”

He spoke one sentence after another, striking the iron while it was still hot. Jiang Cheng spoke slowly, “Sect Leader Jin, that’s enough. I’ll go to The Burial Mounds and deal with this.”

Here the sect leaders were aware of the Wen Sect remnants as prisoners of war and saw it as a justifiable reason to keep the remaining Wens imprisoned regardless of age status etc. When Jiang Cheng is asked by Nie Mingjue for clarification on the matter of the debt owed by the Wen siblings it is deflected by Jin Guangshan and Jin Guangyao with clever wordplay to rile everyone up. This leaves those who either asked for more information, Lan Xichen who is shutdown by not having enough information by the majority and Nie Mingjue distracted by his hate of the Wens already, and Mianmian and Lan Wangji who argued that Wei Wuxian was protecting innocents and was not trying to cause a coup ignored as being irrelevant opinions. Wei Wuxian is eventually labelled a defector and danger due to Jiang Cheng exasperating what they had actually planned in the staged fight.

After this several months pass until Lan Wangji comes to tell Wei Wuxian of Jiang Yanli's marriage in a week's time. Several days later the Jiang siblings arrive with the same news and Jiang Yanli is the one to extend a peace branch to try keeping the three connected with the courtesy naming or Jin Ling. Almost a year's time later Wei Wuxian is in fact invited to the one-month celebration as another peace branch by Jin Zixuan who was the one to extend the offer. Jin Guangshan, Jin Zixun and Jin Guangyao planned the murder of Wei Wuxian in Qiongqi Pass against Jin Zixuan's knowledge. This leads to the mess of his murder and Wei Wuxian being hunted down as well as all of the remaining Wens on order of Jin Guangshan in retaliation after Wen Qing is killed as the remaining leader of the Wens and Wen Ning secretly suppressed. This leads to days later to the Pledge Conference at the city which holds Jin Zixuan's body and Jiang Yanli who is there to keep the death vigils (Shou Ling) as family. It's also why her and Madam Jin are wearing the white robes when Wei Wuxian sees them and by bad luck comes across the sect leaders pact when he tries to flee.

After the the wine had seeped into the dirt, Jin GuangShan stated, “No matter the sect, no matter the surname—this cup of wine is to the soldiers who have died.”

Nie MingJue, “May their souls live on.”

Lan XiChen, “Rest in peace.”

Jiang Cheng, however, still had on a darkened expression. He didn’t say anything even after he poured the wine.

Afterward, Jin GuangYao walked out from the LanlingJin Sect’s array and presented with both hands a square box made of black iron. Jin GuangShan took the box with one hand and raised it high in the air, shouting, “Here lies the ashes of the Wen Sect’s remnants!”

After he spoke, he sent forth his spiritual energy and shattered the box with his bare hand. The iron box broke into pieces, and white dust drifted alongside the cold wind.

A scattering of the ashes!

A series of cheers exploded through the crowd. Jin GuangShan raised his hands, signaling for the people to be quiet and listen to him talk. When the cheers slowly died down, he continued, raising his voice, “Tonight, the ones whose ashes had been scattered were the two leaders of the Wen Sect’s remnants. And tomorrow! It will be the rest of the Wen-dogs and—the YiLing Laozu, Wei Ying!”

Suddenly, a low laugh interrupted his grand speech. The laugh was too untimely, sounding both stark and jarring. In unison, the crowd turned to look at where the sound came from.

The Palace of Sun and Flames was a rather magnificent palace. A total of twelve ridges made up its roof, and at the end of each ridge were eight heavenly beasts. Yet, right now, the people realized that on one of those ridges, there were nine. The laugh from before came from over there!

The extra beast shifted slightly. The next moment, a boot and a corner of black clothes dangled down from the roof, swaying softly.

Everyone placed their hand onto their sword hilt. Jiang Cheng’s pupils shrunk. Blue veins lined the back of his hand.

Jin GuangShan was overcome with both shock and hatred, “Wei Ying! How dare you show yourself here!”

The person opened their mouth to speak. What came out was indeed Wei WuXian’s voice, but he spoke in a strange tone, “Why should I dare not show myself here? Do you people here even add up to three thousand? Don’t forget that back in the Sunshot Campaign, let alone three thousand, I’ve fought against five thousand on my own before. And by appearing here, haven’t I granted your wish? No need for you to come all the way to my home tomorrow to scatter my ashes.”

A few of the QingheNie Sect’s disciples died in the hands of Wen Ning as well. Nie MingJue spoke coldly, “What arrogance.”

Wei WuXian, “Haven’t I always been arrogant? Sect Leader Jin, how does it feel, having slapped yourself in the face? Who was the one that said he’d let the matter go if the Wen siblings went to Koi Tower and gave themselves up? And who was the one that just said he’d scatter my ashes and the ashes of the rest of the Wen Sect’s remnants tomorrow?”

Jin GuangShan, “Let’s consider things as they stand! At Qiongqi Path, you slaughtered over a hundred of the LanlingJin Sect’s disciples—this is one thing. You made Wen Ning kill at Koi Tower—this is another…”

Wei WuXian, “Then let me ask you, Sect Leader Jin, at Qiongqi Path, who was the one being ambushed? And who was the one to kill? Who was the main schemer? And who was the one being schemed against? In the end, just who was the one that came to provoke me first?”

Keep in mind none of the other sect leaders were privy to the scheme between Jin Guangshan, Jin Guangyao and Jin Zixun. And they believe they are certainly fighting off a crazed Wei Wuxian and what they think are his fodder Wens meant for corpses. After this Wei Wuxian desperately fights against Lan Wangji who is trying to calm him down before it's too late which is unsuccessful leading to Jiang Yanli also trying to calm him down enough to get him away and talk some sense to get him out of there to run and get to the Wens. After her death he mentally blacks out and Lan Wangji is left trying to take him away to safety close enough to Burial Mounds. Lan Wangji then fights off his elders as Lan Xichen gathered the Lans to find them. Immediately after this is in sequestered secrecy Lan Wangji is punished. Lan Xichen presumably stays with his own brother while Lan Qiren is the acting Sect Leader for the actual Siege that the other three are part of as support. That leaves Jin Guangshan with the ulterior motive of getting the Yin Hu Fu, Jiang Cheng who wants revenge for the death of Jiang Yanli, and Nie Mingjue left to think he is killing what he considers disgraceful Wens.

So, in short, each of them had different motivations for actually being there, and different accounts for those reasons. The Jins for more power, Jiangs for revenge, Nies for justice and the Lans in solidarity. And the fault of it isn't meted out equally as all had misunderstandings and manipulated by Jin Guangshan's pull to each of their morals as cultivation sects. In the end each of the four were there to kill the Wens and Wei Wuxian aside from Lan Wangji and arguably Jiang Yanli when she was caught up trying to get Wei Wuxian to run.

[dakotafinely]

Turts and april with a s/o who has deadpool powers/ healing factor please?

FASCINATING!!

Okay, okay, hold on. DeadPools powers are like, regenerative right? Sort like Warren Stone’s but cool. So like, even if there’s a molecule of him left he’ll still regenerate? I’m not sure how his powers work but. I’m gonna assume it works like that.

(Don’t worry we’re not going that far, just wanna traumatize my bois a lil’ bit)

(Gosh this gets really long)

Raph:

After months of persisting, he finally gave in and let you go with him on a mission

And so far so good, you listened and stuck with him like you’d promised

Then came actually having to fight the Foot Clan

Not that you can’t fight, it’s just- well you know, a fight against literal paper ninja’s

You had fought off at least five of them when one finally got the better of you, sneaking up from behind just in enough time that

Slice

Raph practically fainted at the sound of your scream

Looking back in horror to see you, cowering on the floor with an arm twitching on the floor as you gripped the bleeding shoulder

It was a blind rage from there, he saw nothing but target’s of a rage he hadn’t felt in years

When it was finally over, Foot Brute and Lieutenant barely making it out before Raph could catch them, he made his way over to you in a panic

The adrenaline fading into fear as the others crowded around you, he gently shoved them to make room for him to be face to face with you

Where you smiled at him, that comforting smile you give him whenever you know he’s feeling overwhelmed, it makes him feel even more guilty as he should be the one trying to comfort you

He was apologizing, regretting having let you go, you hushed him

“Raph, baby, chill, my arm’ll be back in like, a week tops.”

Annnnnnnnnnnd, he fainted for real this time

Donnie:

You promised you wouldn’t touch any of the tempting big red buttons

You swore of it

But... big red buttons. Big Red Buttons I say!

Unfortunately for you, you touched the most dangerous button first

One that shot a circular saw at the unexpected victims hand, cutting it off

Donnie ran dropped the coffee mugs in his hands and bolted out of the room as he heard your shriek 

Now, you’d told him before any of this about your powers, hence why you were in his lab in the first place. He wanted to take a study of it and you were willing to it because aye, why not?

However, as he saw you bent over, blood dripping between your fingers and onto the now severed hand on the floor. His mind did not bring up your regenerative powers

“Oh Mi Gosh!! I Told You Not To Press The Buttons!” He shouted, not in anger, but in panic, rushing over to you as he scrambled to find his first aid kit. Which, despite always putting it in the same place, he’d forgotten where it was stashed to begin with.

“Why do you have a button to saw off peoples hands???“ You retorted with gasp of pain. Watching him scramble to open the first aid kit. Trying to bandage you up with shaky hands

As the pain eased, you began to realize more and more of your boyfriends silent panic. The shaky hands, the slow exhales of air in order to slow his heart rate. And the tiny tears that were on the brink of breaking through to his eyes

“Hey... hey,” you say making him meet eyes with you “relax, it’ll be back in a week. I know your worried about only having one hand for shell scritches.” You say with smile, trying to make him laugh.

A scoff and an eye roll is what you get, but a smile nonetheless eases onto his face.

“Yes, that’s clearly what I’m worried about right now.” He retorts

“I know, I know, your always so selfish. Guess that’s why I love you Dee.”

Leo:

To be fair, you totally thought you could make that trick flip

Not your fault that you fell off the skateboard and scraped your face against the cement

Leo watched your body roll across the floor in slow motion, like he couldn’t believe what he’d just seen

Mostly because he couldn’t

You were usually the one teaching him tricks that watching you fail one so dangerous made his body tense

He finally snapped back to current time as he heard you groan, curling up as you gripped your face

Leo turning pale as he saw one part of your face on the complete opposite side of the ramp. Blood trailing to you it made him want to gag a bit at the sight.

He rushed to as you sat up, still gripping the left side of your face with a hiss

“Oh mi gosh, are you okay!?” He asked

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” you saw, pulling your hands away to see if you had any blood “wow, that’s a lot,” you comment as you stare at your drenched hands, looking up

Leo’s color was gone, completely, as he stared at your freshly skinned face, blood oozing down onto your chin as he could see in HD the definition of you face muscles

“...Leo? Leo!”

He woke up, slowly sitting up in before the night before hit him like a brick wall.

“(Y/n)? (Y/n)!” Leo called out, bolting off his bed (unsure of how he got there now that he thought about it)

To find you, in the kitchen, talking to Dee. Half your face bandaged as you held a nice cup of OJ

“So, yeah, at least, that’s what I’ve noticed about my regeneration,” “Fascinating.”

“(Y/n)!” “Oh hey Leo, you okay love? Your head made a pretty loud thud hitting the floor last night.”

Leo stutters before pointing at your face

“Me!? What about you!? Half your face was taken off by the cement last night!”

“Yeah, but like, I can regenerate and you could’ve totally had a concussion. You kinda take the priority babe.”

And for once, Leo’s at a loss for words. Bumbling and stuttering trying to find a response.

“You can regenerate???”

Mikey:

You were chopping onions for Mikey as he practically danced around the kitchen to prep dinner. The recipe called for an oddly large amount of onions, granted you were sure having someone as big as Raph to feed probably meant Mikey quadrupled the recipe.

Constantly having to stop and rub your eyes as they got blurry from tears. At first it wasn’t all to bad, but with onion you finished up it began to feel as though you were rubbing your eyes every second chop.

You eventually get frustrated, and continue chopping even as your vision gets blurrier and blurrier. Just wanting to complete that part of the recipe and move on.

Eventually you accidentally chop off a finger due to your recklessness

Mikey jumps at your unexpected scream, whipping around and turning pale at the sight. Seeing blood cover the onions as you gripped your hands so hard your knuckles turned white.

Looking at the finger left to lay on the chopping board before snapping back to reality as you let out a groan of pain.

“Oh mi gosh! (Y/n) what happened? Are you alright?” he asks quickly pulling out the first aid kit he keeps in a drawer to patch up your hand.

“Yeah, sorry! I just got frustrated with the onions,” You say, wiping your eyes of tears both from the pain and the stupid onions. A moment of silence falls between you before you let out a growl of frustration.

“What? Is the bandage to tight?”

“No! I just realized I ruined all the onions I just chopped!”

“Love... you do realize you cut off a whole finger right?”

“Yeah, but that’ll come back in a week. I can’t regenerate the time and energy it took to chop those flippin’ onions!”

“Look, we’ll just leave the- wait you can regenerate??”

April:

You and April were just walking to her house when some idiot came up to you two

“Give me all the cash on your wallets and no one gets hurt.” He whispers, a gun pressed to you back, wrapping an arm around your neck and making distance between him and April

April looked at you with wide eyes, but you stayed calm. Yes, your heart was beating into your ears, but that was mainly because you were afraid he’d switch targets

“Hey man, look-” “Shut up and just give me the money!” he interrupted you, pressing the gun deeper into your back

April began shuffling through her purse, trying to find her wallet as quickly as possible. The wheels in your brain began turning, churning ideas you were sure would get you hurt

But hey, you could handle it.

“Alright, my wallet’s in my pocket can I get it?” you ask him, hearing a grunt of approval you move into action

Taking a swift elbow and digging it as deep into his ribs as it would take to make him let you go, he lets out a yelp of pain and releases you.

You take a jump back and turn toward him, shielding April from view as he glares at you

The gun shots were deafening, shooting you three times in your chest before running off.

April let out a shrill as you fell to the floor. Limp as your eyes lay wide open and lifeless

She dropped to her knees and pulled you into her arms, clothes getting bloody from your fresh wounds as she sobbed over your temporary corpse

This goes on for a few minutes until you let out a large gasp. As life returned to you and pushed the bullets slowly out of your skin. April jumped at the sudden action of your body moving, Looking down at you with wide eyes

You looked up at her, feeling guilty as you see her puffy eyes and the slow tears falling onto your face

“Sorry babe, I couldn’t let you get hurt.”

“What? I thought-”

“It’ll take more than that to kill me I promise.”

(Sorry this took so long to get out! Also, I know April’s is a bit cheesy but I can’t help it. I’m a sucker for the cheesy bro. I hope you liked it!)