#Im gonna go curl up and die and also maybe throw up

[shoukiko]

CONTAINS MWIII SPOILERS!!!! SCROLL AT YOUR OWN RISK!!

A gif to separate This is a review of the MWIII Campaign! -

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I'm going to shoot myself. Oh my god I've never felt so......wow The story was great, I absolutely loved playing. The open combat was my favorite (And also all the cutscenes with Ghost). Being honest I did not like that they brought back Graves. That did not make any sense to me and honestly made me annoyed.

I did not like the Danger Close mission, Yes because of Graves, but also because I just suck :3

I absolutely LOVED the Oligarch and Highrise missions, I had the most fun playing those. I was so emersed in the game during that, sneaking around as Soap, shooting people with the silenced M4 I found (And also Ghost during the interrogation cutscene HOOOMAMA). Playing as Gaz and zipping through the hallways of this big ass building, Got my blood pumping. But then......Soap Holy shit I actually sobbed in front of my viewers. It happened so fast and I hate them for it...but it was also handled well? Like when you're in that situation, theres no time to think or prevention for it. I'm genuinely heart broken, Johnny died a hero. Seeing Ghost run to Johnny and check his pulse, hearing him say Johnny in a concerned and scared voice.... Hearing Ghost's voice break a bit when he was saying "Rest in peace, Johnny" ...fuck man Great fucking campaign, I haven't cried this much since Titanfall 2.

On a lighter note, Ghosts hands are fucking huge and in a way it was comforting to see how he was able to hold Johnny's ashes so easliy. Rest in Peace Johnny, You're in our hearts forever.

[crushedsweets]

Awhile back you answered an ask on how other creeps would respond to Toby's death, and I was wondering how they would respond to Kate death?

IM PUNCHING THE WALL. ALRIGHT. warning for death and grief and mourning . . .

im gonna set this after she starts staying at the proxy cabin and becoming friends with more people, rather than rotting in the mines. im also imagining they find her body in the forest, nobody was there when she died.

tim and brian would have a heavy heart about it. sure, they had massive issues with her, but even by time shes 25+, they still kinda see her as a little kid. she was 14/15 when they met her, and she acted like a feral animal till she was like 17. brian got her a job on the farm, tim helped set up a room for her. they'd help toby set up a grave, but overall they dont go out of their way to mourn her - toby has that handled

which.....guides me towards toby... they've known eachother since they were 17-19, and they are like siblings. when she was in the mines, toby would always bring her food and even dragged a whole mattress there. thats his little sister (she is older than him..) and he had always been so so so protective of her. he loses his shit, screaming and throwing shit. is never home, spends so much time at the mines. chops down random ass trees just cuz he needs to exhaust himself enough to stop feeling so much pain. it feels like losing lyra again. he sets a grave up for her, puts her body in it, carves some stuff into a wooden cross he made from a tree he cut down, lays hella rocks all over. him and nina spend a good chunk of time together. nina has never seen him cry until this. eventually, after he's gone for days, he comes back to the cabin and just rots in his bed almost catatonic. clocky has to come collect him

whiiiiiiich now brings me to clocky. she'd find out from nina, since she'd already be in her own apartment by now and tobys not gonna tell her. she'd immediately get nina, get jack, go to the cabin, and try to console toby and nina the best she(and jack) can. has to learn to bite her tongue when tobys mouthing off cuz hes mad she's trying to help. she doesnt really have time to mourn kate at first, until maybe a week goes by and tobys finally eating again and clockys just sitting there and starts bawling cuz kate was her friend too and she had to immediately go into caretaker mode.

nina. screams and cries and needs to have people with her all the time, no matter what. she doesnt feel safe alone cuz she just wants to curl up and die so so so bad. she makes toby take her to the grave(he doesnt want to but he knows kate would be pissed if he wasnt at least a little nice to nina after this) and she just sobs. she holds toby and tries to be like 'its okay its okay its okay' but neither know who shes comforting. she'd print as many pictures she got of kate as possible (not a lot) and try to scrap book it and try to memorialize her like that. just hold photos and pictures and have them in her apartment and cry. give a photo to toby with a letter written on the back telling him how much kate loved him.

similar to if toby died, jack would try to host stuff. make dinner for them all, invite them over, give everyone space to eat and remember her. he'd go with toby to the grave as well, but he's less assertive with his care compared to clocky. less 'get the fuck up, this is making you feel worse' and more 'you know you can come over right? its not good to stay home alone'. toby would come to see him a lot, too. . .

toby would have to take on a lot of her patrols, so he'd bump into ann and lulu a lot. . . ann would tease him a bit like 'ooo is katey in trouble? whyre you here, handsome?', till he smacks the shit out of her w the handle of his hatchet and he grumbles something about her death. ann would shut up after. she'd be bummed out that kates dead cuz she liked her, but not mourn. lulu wouldn't be able to process it. ann would tell her, lulu would cry, then a day later she's asking when kate's coming to visit.

i dont think anyone else would really be impacted, though... jeff/dina didnt like her, she wasnt close with ben, never even spoke to jane or liu... lazari would cry and draw pictures of her, but she'd be okay shortly after, esp cuz jacks okay.

[spacexseven]

tuna quick concept for you: drunk yans. hear me out.

flirty!drunk chuuya. even when hes a yandere he somehow also manages to be a tsundere. sure, he stalks you and frets and sends you gifts and wants to kill anyone who gets close to you… but that doesnt mean he has a crush on you! dont be so arrogant! his “flirting” is a lot of getting nervous, saying something super rude or embarrassing, and then wanting to punch himself in the face about it for the next week. (especially with mean! subordinate au chuuya who is already flustered cuz he knows you dont like him) but when hes drunk? entirely different story. he usually scowls and looks away when you try to greet him, but now he’s so happy to see you he’s about to fall out of his seat. as soon as youre within arms reach hes all over you. touchy touchy touchy. hangs off your arm and giggles, every so often burying his red face in your neck and nipping at you. if you move away he just giggles some more before tugging you back over. he’ll only get bolder as he gets drunker, eventually moving over so much that he’s just fully sitting in your lap (for my male/amab readers he might start teasingly grinding down on you at this point) and spending the rest of his consciousness muttering about how pretty you are. might grab your face and try to kiss you but will completely miss and headbutt you. cue more giggles. he can only hold his liquor for so long, so eventually he’ll just curl up and go to sleep and you can carry his 10 pound ass out. expect him to avoid you like the plague for a while if he manages to remember.

emotional!drunk dazai. yan dazai plays his cards close to his chest with you to start out with. the idea of you knowing just how much he wants you makes him anxious, out of both resistance to vulnerability and fear of scaring you off. he’ll be pretty aloof, maybe even cruel, to try to offset his growing desires. it becomes harder as he gets more attached to you to not pounce on you and smother you with his affections every time you enter his sight, but hes determined. but then he gets drunk and all bets are off. it could be for any number of reasons, trying to give himself alcohol poisoning, oda and ango or the ada inviting him out to unwind, whatever. he ends up the same way, miserable. all he can think about is how he wants to die, needs to die. how pointless living is and how hes so empty and- you. he starts to think about YOU. how happy you make him feel. and once he gets his hands on you theres no way out. he’ll either start wandering around looking for you or the people he’s with will bring you to him cuz he keeps muttering your name sadly and its getting hard to watch. its certainly a sight, seeing THE dazai with wide eyes brimming with tears, tugging at your shirt and whining. if you try to get away he’ll start sobbing and throw his arms around you and beg you not to leave him so just let him do what he needs to do. hope you wanted to spend you night with dazai (who, if this is mafia dazai, might be your boss) snuggling you and murmuring insane little rants about his feelings for you into your neck, which he only stops doing so he can kiss you wetly on the cheek. if you think you can just play along til you get him smiling again and then leave you’re sorely mistaken. he WILL notice you trying to sneak out and WILL grab your hand and nervously ask where you’re going, already starting to get upset again. you’re in for a long night. 

was gonna do more but it turns out im a LIAR and this wasnt quick at all. let me know if you want more ig i dont know why this made me so insane. I got sleepy drunk ranpo and clingy drunk aku on the back burner.

- 🩹

SLEEPY DRUNK RANPO!!! YES

cw: yandere characters, intoxicated characters, non-consensual kissing.

maybe one night a large group of people from the pm decide to go drinking and of course dazai tags along. he just wants to get under your skin so badly all the time that it would be more surprising for you if he didn't come. chuuya, on the other hand, you were not expecting. the executive probably had better places to be than a seedy bar in the heart of the city. it doesn't seem like his scene but...what would you know?

as the night progressed, the two higher-ups drank an alarming amount. chuuya was the first to succumb, intoxicated and whiny. you've always known chuuya to be somewhat stern, even when he helped you out, it was accompanied by a scoff and he would stride back as swiftly as he came. so it was understandably shocking when he slumped down against your front. you were painfully stiff as he laid his head on your chest and an arm around your muddle. chuuya was half-falling off the seat and whining into your ear about how warm you were as you sat, frozen.

he raises his head and started placing sloppy kisses down your neck, pausing periodically to giggle before continuing. a clumsy hand squeezes your thigh and he starts trying to proposition you in what he might have thought was a sexy whisper, but sounded more like him slurring and mumbling to himself.

his messy attempts at kissing were quickly averted by a slight move of your head, but he doesn't give up, continously alternating between pouting, giggling and kissing. eventually, to your relief, he finally slumped over, breathing slowly as he falls asleep.

now, to drag him back...

dazai was out with everyone only because you were there, though he wouldn't admit it. him trying to outdrink chuuya was just a sad attempt at a distraction that he ended up taking too seriously, eventually becoming inebriated enough to blank out ane then start dozing off.

he snaps back awake to stare at you with wide eyes, his mouth agape as he attempts to process the scene.

"[name]? you..." and then he starts bawling his eyes out, grabbing onto you with a surprisingly strong grip.

dazai also clings on to you all the time, sobbing about how much he loves you and please don't leave he won't hurt you again! he doesn't kiss you as much as chuuya but he is surprisingly talkative (although most of it is indecipherable).

he doesn't ever let go, and you have no choice but to escort him back, knowing everyone else was terrified of the executive. hopefully he won't wake up embarrassed and decides to take it out on you.

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

hi skz pack <3 first of i wanna say ily and i'll literally die for all of you. you especially (y/n)!!! if any of these male boneheads hurt you, i'll throw hands (just kidding, maybe i'll pull on their ears a little and then pat their lil heads to say sorry). i have two questions (sfw and nsfw hehe) and it's for everyone so any of you can answer if you want!

first, are there any funny inside stories within the pack? i need my crumbs. i wanna know all the juicy gossip and potential blackmail. i personally think hyunjin and jisung are a chaos duo but i wouldn't... put it past any of you. *heart fingers*

second, and this is a lil spicy, but have any of you been dommed by y/n? i only ask because i'm a dom too and i am CONSTANTLY rooting for my girl y/n. does she dick any of u down??? does she top?? power bottom?? i need to KNOW. if she hasn't or you've never been, i implore you to let her. i know she has potential. BESTIE Y/N IF U CAN SEE THIS, GO CRAZY (consensually <3) !!! IM ENABLING YOU.

(jess sorry for the lack of asks, you know i love you. saw this ask thing though and jumped at the chance. i'll be back to my regular scheduled asks soon once college dies down T_T hope you're doing well!)

– 🤍

"Oooh, both of these are really great questions." Your eyes light up as you excitedly sit straighter in your chair. "I think we're gonna answer them individually, since there's so much to each one." You glance around at your packmates. "Which do you guys wanna answer first?"

Eight pairs of eyes stare back at you silently, and you sigh.

"Really? Okay, fine."

"You're up, buttercup." Minho quips dryly, raising an eyebrow as he stares at you, making you roll your eyes.

"Okay, first off-" You start seriously, motioning to the rest of the group. "I'm a complete switch, through and through. I think we all know this."

"However, there are definitely some key factors that affect which role I choose to portray during sex."

"This legitimately sounds like the start of my human behaviors lecture from last week." Jisung remarks with sarcasm, a smirk flickering across his lips. "Did you and Professor Nim collab?"

Seungmin elbows the other beta hard in the ribs, and he loses his breath with an audible oof. You shoot him a thankful look before you continue.

"The first factor, and definitely most important, is my partner's preference and comfort level."

Chan is nodding like he gets what you're saying, which is comforting, knowing that you're not just babbling like an idiot and making no sense.

Changbin offers you the hint of a smile as you push onward.

"It's not especially important to me what role I play, I don't have a strong preference usually, so if my partner is more comfortable with me domming, then that's what I'll do. If they'd rather I sub, and they take control, that's fine too."

Minho rolls his eyes good naturedly. "You're just a straight brat with me."

You point a finger in his direction sternly. "You don't count."

The other alpha smirks and shrugs. "It's fine. I'm not complaining."

"Anyway." You shoot him a glare and he gives you a little hand motion, as if to say go on. "Another factor that affects things is where everyone is at in their cycles. Typically, it's not the same for everyone, but pretty common, that when an alpha is in rut, they want to dom. Similarly, when an omega is in heat, they usually want to sub. It's biology's way of making things easier for everyone."

"I also tend to be a little more submissive when it comes to sexual interactions with the other alphas? It's not astoundingly evident, but my wolf's natural response when faced with another alpha-especially Chan-is to naturally be a little more submissive as a sign of respect I guess?"

You smirk now and dart a sidelong look at Chan, reaching out to curl your fingers around his thigh.

"Not to say I haven't dommed-a lot-with all of them. We absolutely do have sex toys, and I absolutely have used them, on everyone."

Chan sighs good naturedly and Minho snickers, Changbin grinning now.

"Gross." Jeongin rolls his eyes from where he's sitting in Felix's lap."

"Speaking of-" You point at the omega now, who glances back at you innocently, eyes wide. "-when it comes to the omegas, I usually tend to dom all the time. The baby and Felix especially. Hyunjin can go either way, sometimes he likes to switch it up and be in charge, but Lixie and Innie? They like to be coddled and taken care of."

"Pillow princesses." Jisung supplies without any guile, and Felix immediately nods.

"Hey, I like what I like."

"And we like you, princess." Changbin teases back, reaching out to pinch the omega's cheek affectionately between his fingers.

"Jisungie and Seungie." You think for a minute, considering, and then glance to the betas, who are not helpful in the least, giving you a shrug each. "Hmm. They tend to go either way. They're wild cards. Although Seungie prefers being in control usually, whereas Jisungie usually leans toward wanting to be told what to do."

"That's why Minho-hyung likes me so much." Jisung boasts, puffing his chest. "I'm a great listener."

"Bull shit." Minho immediately shoots back, and Jisung pouts.

"You're a terrible listener." You agree, and Jisung turns the full force of his wide eyed pout on you, making you laugh. "Everywhere except the bedroom."

Jisung shrugs, snuggling back beside Seungmin. "Whatever. I'll take it."

"When there's more than two people involved," You go on, considering for a moment. "That usually changes dynamics a bit, depending on who's wanting to do what. It's not as simple as just saying 'oh there's two alphas, so they'll obviously dom the omega or beta or whatever' because sometimes, one of us will dom the third party, and then the other doms the other alpha or vice versa. It really all comes back to, once again, comfort levels and preferences."

"Noona, if I came to you and hyung and asked to dom both of you, would you let me?" Jeongin pipes up, motioning between you and Chan with sudden eager excitement.

"Absolutely, Innie." Chan doesn't even hesitation, smiling fondly at the youngest, who is bouncing in his seat and making Felix wince.

"But you wouldn't." You grin. "Because we all know you'd rather be babied, especially by Channie and I."

Jeongin doesn't even consider pouting.

"Guilty."

"We're a pretty non-traditional pack to begin with," You add, glancing at Chan, who squeezes your fingers where they rest on his leg. "So being non-traditional in the bedroom isn't anything weird. Channie is head alpha, but he never asserts that over anyone unless they ask. He's more than happy to sub if that's what someone wants."

"Who would want that?" Jisung cries out, utterly scandalized. "Dom, primal, head alpha hyung is the hottest hyung. Period."

"Hear, hear." Hyunjin raises a fake glass into the air in a toast to Jisung's words, and it's probably the first time they've agreed on anything in days.

"I mean-" You shrug, biting back a smirk. "-I'm not saying I don't agree with you, but I have to admit, there's also something intrinsically pretty about Channie being the one beneath me and seeing just how much he can take before he's practically begging."

"Oh god." Chan groans beside you.

Across the room, Changbin audibly chokes.

Jisung looks utterly caught off guard as he gulps loudly. "I need to take a cold shower all of a sudden."

Minho grins and raises his own invisible glass to you in salute from the other couch.

"That's my girl."

[tennessoui]

oooh for Smithsonian au what if one of them gets into some serious trouble at work? all i can think of is obiwan is possibly cleaning a shark tank exhibit but maybe gets his suit punctured by a sharp rock or sea urchin and he starts bleeding from a small scratch and he realizes the shark smells him and his suit is filling up with water and tries not to freak out and call for help. and anakin finds out and rushes over and idk maybe obi wan almost drowns and anakin realizes they (he) could have lost obi wan. he could have been hurt or possibly killed if no one was there. idk you can adjust this too if you have another idea about how they realize their feelings. obiwan goes to the hospital and he asks for anakin and could ask why he saved him or he just thought of him before he blacked out from lack of oxygen

oh!! so i love this absolutely but there are no shark tanks in the museum :< but actually there SHOULD be and i can see something happening when obi-wan is out at the baltimore national aquarium doing research or something

but im gonna take this idea and run with it and throw in like. a bit more angst if that's possible but a lot more guilt

but lets say anakin goes to collect padmé for lunch on their break but padmé has callen in sick and forgotten to tell him but she's also scheduled it so obi-wan is waiting on the steps because he thinks they're going to lunch

and anakin sees obi-wan and he's immediately like 'what are you doing just standing around out here? looking for water?'

and obi-wan is like 'no actually im looking at the sky trying to find a single thing of academic interest. oh! there's one. no, never mind. it's just a plane.'

anyway so anakin calls padme as he's glaring at obi-wan and obi-wan is trying to call padmé too but padmé makes a group chat with both of them (while ignoring all their calls) and she's like 'ah im sorry i forgot to say i can't go to lunch today but you two should! reservations are here.'

and so theyre both like 'of course we're not going to do that' and then start off in the same direction but they're arguing the entire time

and obi-wan turns his back to keep arguing right as he's crossing the street and he doesn't see the approaching car but anakin does and he has this split second of terror that obi-wan is going to die from arguing with him that he grabs at the front of his shirt and pulls it so hard towards him that it rips completely and also obi-wan topples over onto anakin

and anyway obi-wan is like scared too but not going to show it so he's like 'you owe me a shirt' and anakin is like '....fine' because he's too shaken up to argue. and then he's like 'i know just the place.'

and he takes him to the air and space museum's gift shop and buys him a NASA hoodie and he comes out and he's like 'and i even bought lunch for you' and it's the dehydrated space food

a year or so later when they start sleeping with each other, anakin is over at obi-wan's apartment and he spills like coffee on his shirt during breakfast so he asks to borrow one of obi-wans and he's like yeah pick anything from the closet and he goes inside and he finds that hoodie he bought obi-wan but it's soft and well worn now and he can just picture obi-wan curled up on his couch with a mug of tea, wearing this hoodie while sending him long hate messages over every platform of social media they share

and thats when anakin knows he's in love for sure, because he doesn't think anything has ever sounded more adorable <3

[stormyoceansmain]

[im very much NOT a writer - i cannot stress this enough - but i truly mean it when i say sambucky is making me go insane. i find no other explanation for ending up writing 3.8k words of sambucky, alpine, and movie night. thank you if you decide to read this, i hope it's not too terrible]

Sam shows up at Bucky’s place for movie night with a case full of beers and ten minutes to spare.

Sarah makes fun of him for this Friday tradition they’ve been carrying out for the past few months, says he should just muster the courage to ask Bucky out on a proper date already. It doesn't matter how many times Sam told her he is just helping Bucky catch up to the 21st century, she always ends up giving him that Look that says she's not believing any words coming out of his mouth, which is kind of unfair, if you ask Sam.

Well, fine, maybe Sarah is right. Maybe Sam does want to take Bucky out on an actual date and hold his hand and kiss him goodnight and do all those sickeningly romantic stuff he used to daydream about when he was 16. Turns out former assassins who are incredibly annoying but also surprisingly kind are very much Sam's type. Go figure.

Still, they worked hard to reach the kind of friendship they currently have, and Sam doesn't want to lose that. He's also not blind to the way Bucky flirts with Sarah, and despite her insistence that Bucky does it more to rile Sam up than for any real interest in her, he’s not about to risk it all on a whim.

This resolution almost crumbles into dust a moment later, when Bucky opens the door wearing sweatpants and a blue shirt that matches his eyes. He is barefoot and his hair is getting longer, losing the harsh edges of the cut and curling slightly behind his ears. He is still all chiseled jawline and defined muscles, but he looks softer, more comfortable in his own skin, and the easy way he smiles at Sam makes a heavy warmth pool around Sam’s stomach.

“Hey,” Bucky greets him, sliding his metal arm around Sam's shoulders to pull him into a brief hug.

This, too, is something of a novelty. There's always been a sort of intense physicality about Bucky, both in how he carries himself and in how he is always aware of the bodies moving around him, but the casual affection, the playful abandon with which he touches and lets others touch him these days, feels like a wonder. Sam would have never expected it, and he had come to love and hate it at the same time.

“Hey yourself,” Sam greets back, splaying his free hand across Bucky's back, allowing himself to hold him there and breathe him in for a second, a fresh lemony smell coming off his hair, before giving him a quick pat on the shoulder and putting a respectable amount of space between them.

He buries his hands deep into the pocket of his jacket and follows Bucky inside, trying to resist the urge to slide his fingers under the hem of Bucky's shirt and feel the warm skin underneath it.

It's the first time Sam steps into Bucky’s apartment since Bucky took home the stray kitten he found on the side of the road three weeks ago, and the changes around it are staggering. Sam was used to empty spaces and few, essential furniture, but now the space in front of the window is occupied by a giant cat tower, and lots of smaller scratching posts are scattered all over the living room, along with different kinds of cat beds and toys.

“I see you redecorated,” Sam says with a grin.

Bucky shrugs, opening two of the beer bottles with a quick twist of his metal hand. “Cats need stuff.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I'm glad.” Sam grabs one of the bottle and clinks it against Bucky's. “Pets are great company and the place looks much better like this. I wouldn't have pinned you down as the crazy cat lady type, but it's always better than Robocop.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, takes a sip of his beer. Sam catches the smile he is trying to hide anyway.

Sam knocks their shoulders together, asks, “So where is she?”

“Hiding, probably,” Bucky says, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. “She doesn't like strangers.”

Sam stops with the beer halfway to his mouth. “Excuse you,” he exclaims, outraged. “I very clearly remember accompanying you to the vet the first time you brought her in. I also sacrificed two of my shirts for her and have scars on my forearms where she scratched me to death. I think I deserve more than being considered a stranger. We basically co-parented that cat for the first few days!”

“That's nice,” Bucky deadpans. “Why don't you go tell her that? I'm sure the speech will convince her to keep the claws to herself.”

Sam glares at him and Bucky pats him on the arm. “Just relax,” he adds, turning to open the fridge and taking foods out for dinner. “If we let her be, Alpine will come out eventually.”

Bucky is right, of course. Sam had a few experiences with strays growing up, cats and dogs alike looking for shelter from Louisiana's storms under their porch, and no amount of treats he and Sarah tried to give them had been able to lure them out from their hiding spot. The best course of action in these cases was to wait, letting them come out when they felt safe enough.

It still weirdly feels like a rejection of some sort, but he tries not to let it show.

Sam takes a swig from his beer and asks, “Alpine?”

Bucky turns on the stove and shrugs again. He remains silent for a moment, a distant look on his face that Sam has learned to associate to memories better buried and forgotten. He is about to start telling Bucky about the science fair at the boys' school to change the subject, when Bucky speaks again, low and careful.

“She reminds me of the snow on the Alps.”

He doesn't elaborate on that, but Sam nods anyway, like he understands. He doesn't, like Bucky will never be able to fully understand what it means for Sam to carry the shield, but it's okay. They have each other, and that's still something.

Sam taps his foot against Bucky's bare one, watches Bucky's entire being exhale and relax. “Couldn't you have named her Snowflakes or something like that?”

Bucky levels him with a stare that tells him he would rather jump off another plane rather than calling his cat ‘Snowflakes’, and Sam laughs.

The far off look in Bucky’s eyes melts away and they fall into an easy rhythm, Sam sitting at the kitchen table and talking about some renovations he and Sarah would like to do to the house, Bucky cutting the vegetables to sauté.

They have moved on to argue about the best way to season chicken breasts – you cannot leave cayenne pepper out of the spice blend – when Sam catches a flash of white out of the corner of his eyes, and interrupts himself mid-rant.

A second later, Alpine jumps on the kitchen counter, sniffing the air.

It's been only three weeks since Sam last saw her, but she's already grown a lot, and looks much better too: her fur is shiny and clean, her eyes bright, and the slight sprain that caused her to limp around seems to be completely healed.

Alpine lets out a soft chirping sound and headbutts Bucky's arm, rubbing her head against him.

The smile Bucky turns to her is blinding, and Sam has to look away before he ends up doing something stupid, like climb over the table and kiss him.

“I know you're here for the chicken,” Bucky tells her, scratching her behind the ears. “But you can't eat this one.”

He scoops her up with a single hand, ignoring the disapproving meow that follows, and deposits her on the table right next to Sam's arm. Sam freezes, unprepared for the sudden proximity and recalling how quickly she can turn around and scratch, but as soon as Bucky's hand retreats, she is moving away, giving Sam a wide berth. She doesn't go back into hiding, though, just settles on the corner farther away from him and stares him down in a way that reminds him so much of Bucky, Sam doesn't know if he wants to laugh or cry.

He is also struck by the sudden need to make Alpine like him.

“Is she gonna maul me if I try to give her a treat?” Sam asks.

Bucky tilts his head, considering, which does very little to reassure Sam about the safety of his fingers.

“I wouldn’t try hand-feeding her,” Bucky answers, fishing out a bag of treats from one of the cupboards. “But she likes to chase them.”

Alpine observes with quiet intensity as Bucky dumps a few treats into Sam's hands, and when Sam tosses one a few feet away she jumps down the table and runs after it, grabs it with a paw.

“Alright,” Sam declares, “that's pretty cute.”

Sam spends the next few minutes throwing treats at Alpine, inching them closer and closer to himself to test how willing she is to get near him with the proper incentive. The last one he places right in front of his feet, then he sits back and waits. Alpine hesitates, eyes flitting between him and the treat as to evaluate if it's safe enough, until finally she starts to move, slowly, slowly. She gets close enough to stretch her paw out, pull the treat towards herself and take it out of reach to eat somewhere else. Sam still takes it as a win.

Bucky clears his throat and announces that dinner is ready, so Sam leaves Alpine alone and helps him set the table.

Dinner is nice. Bucky makes a glazed chicken with honey and garlic that it's to die for, which Sam finds utterly unfair, considering he comes from a time where spices were believed to be a menace to the public.

He still goes back for seconds, and by the time they move to the living room to watch the movie, Sam feels full and content.

He finds Alpine curled up on one end of the couch, and while he believes they made some progress in their relationship, he doesn’t think either of them is ready to bring it to the next level, so he takes the seat on the other side, careful not to disturb her.

Bucky doesn’t say anything about it, just flops down between Sam and the cat with ease, his knee bumping into Sam’s.

This week they are watching the second movie in The Hobbit trilogy, if only for the horrified look in Bucky’s face when Sam told him that not only they made a movie out of the book, but that they actually managed to stretch it into three. Bucky, it turns out, is one of those people who notices every little changes from the original material, disapproves of them on principle, and is very vocal about his displeasure, exactly like the old man he actually is.

Sam had almost fell off the couch laughing during the first movie, and it had taken him a while to convince Bucky to give the other two a chance. Maybe it was a little assholey of him, knowing that it only gets worse, but just because he likes the guy it doesn’t mean Sam doesn’t want to subject him to some bad cinema for his own entertainment. After all, that’s what friends are for.

It doesn't take long for the comments to start up again. Bucky holds up for thirty minutes, rolling his eyes and grumbling under his breath from time to time, but then Legolas and Tauriel show up and Bucky turns his head to look at Sam, face completely blank, says, “Who the fuck are these people.”

Sam bursts out laughing, and it only gets worse when they reach the scene between Kili and Tauriel in the Woodland Realm: Bucky throws his hands up, exclaims, “Oh, come on,” and starts complaining about how they made the dwarf hot just to add a romance. It has Sam in stitches, and he has to grab onto Bucky's shoulder to stay upright and not end up falling into Bucky's lap.

The tirade ends with Bucky sulking and shaking his head, and Sam is glad for the temporary reprieve just so he can catch his breath. He feels flushed and warm, cheeks hurting from smiling, and the quiet is comfortable, familiar.

After a while, his eyes grow heavy, and he realizes he nodded off only when a light weight sets on his shoulder, jerking him awake.

The movie has ended, screen back on the Netflix title page, and Bucky fell asleep as well, head drooping until it had come to rest against Sam’s body.

The metal arm is glinting gold and blue in the light, and Sam stares down at it, then up at the lines of Bucky’s face, the soft waves of his hair. It always surprises him how vulnerable Bucky looks like this, how younger, and it’s so hard to remember there was a time Sam had actually been scared of him, of what he could do. Now, he would trust Bucky with anything. His life, his family, his home. His heart, too, if Bucky ever wanted it.

Sam knows he should wake him up, send him to bed so he can sleep comfortably there while Sam stretches out on the couch, but he also knows that Bucky still has trouble sleeping sometimes, and Sam doesn't have the heart to wake him up if it isn't really necessary. He’s well aware it's also a little bit selfish, because it's nice, having Bucky this close, warm and solid and smelling of lemon.

Sam takes a deep breath and rests his head on top of Bucky's. He thought he could handle this thing he has for Bucky, keep it under control, but he’s starting to realize he might have actually underestimated the size of his own feelings, which could become a serious problem in the future.

For now, though, Sam closes his eyes and lets himself have this.

The next time Sam wakes up, it's to something walking all over him. He blinks against the sudden light and when his vision clears, he finds Alpine sitting on his lap.

Sam stares at her, wondering for a moment if he is still asleep and dreaming all of this up, but his neck is sore, his arm heavy from Bucky resting against it in his sleep; there’s the beginning of a headache pulsing behind is eyes, and a pressure in his bladder telling him he should probably get up.

Alpine sniffs at his shirt and Sam tentatively raises his free hand, strokes a finger between her ears. She leans into the touch, head tilting up and guiding Sam's hand under her chin. Sam tries really hard not to shriek with delight.

“Oh, you're a sweetheart,” he says, a grin spreading out across his face. “Just like your owner. All tough and fierce on the outside, but adorable and charming on the inside.”

Alpine meows back at him, like she agrees with that statement, and Sam tenses up, glances at the steady rise and fall of Bucky's chest.

“We gotta be quiet,” he tells Alpine, petting her down her side. “We don't want to wake him up.”

“I'm already awake,” comes Bucky's voice next to him.

Sam's entire body jerks in surprise, and Alpine leaps off him, startled.

“Man, don't you do that ever again,” Sam says, a hand placed over his chest. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

Bucky hums, sounding way more amused than he has any right to be, and sits up.

Blood rushes back into Sam's arm, and while Sam is glad to start feeling it again, he's already mourning the loss of contact between them. Except Bucky doesn't go far, just adjusts his position to angle his body towards Sam and rest his head on the back of the couch. It's easier to look at each other, like this, but they are now so close that Bucky's soft breaths are hitting the exposed line of skin above Sam's shirt, the hollow of his neck, making him shiver.

“So,” Bucky says, dragging the word out, lips tilting up at the corner. “I'm adorable and charming?”

Shit.

Of course Bucky would hear that, that's just Sam's luck. God, he is never going to speak again. He will take a vow of silence like in one of those monastic orders and move some place far and secluded where he won't be able to embarrass himself anymore.

He swallows, makes himself let out a laugh. It's meant to be mocking, but it sounds more nervous than anything else. “I think old age is making you hear things,” Sam still tries to deflect, “I clearly said annoying and self-centered.”

Bucky jabs him in the side with a metal finger. “Nice try, Samuel,” Bucky says, grinning widely. “But I've been told I'm a sweetheart.”

Sam's cheeks heat up. “I was talking about Alpine!”

He wonders if maybe T'Challa would let him hide in Wakanda for a while, just long enough for Sam to regain some kind of dignity. He hopes against all hopes that Bucky will have mercy of him and drop the subject, but of course Bucky doesn't. Sam wouldn't either, if their roles were switched.

“You said she is like her owner,” Bucky points pout, eyes bright and so very blue. He pokes Sam in the ribs again. “Which means, you think I’m a sweetheart, too.”

Sam bats his hand away. He may have embarrassed himself and he's lucky if he ends up this night without Bucky realizing Sam has feelings for him, but he is Captain frigging America. If he has to go down, he will go down fighting.

“What you are, it’s a nuisance,” Sam says. “And a creep. Who the hell pretends to be asleep when they are actually awake?”

“I wasn't pretending, you just assumed I was still sleeping.”

“Anyone would assume that, if you don't say anything.”

“I thought you were going to move as soon as you woke up, it's not my fault you didn't.”

“I was trapped between your heavy ass and your cat. What's your excuse for not moving?”

The argument comes to a halt, an awkward silence stretching between them as Bucky lowers his eyes, scratches the back of his neck. He clears his throat, shrugs.

“Your shoulder is nice,” he says in the end.

It's Bucky's turn to blush, a darker pink dusting his cheeks, and Sam feels like he missed something important.

“My shoulder?” Sam repeats.

Bucky doesn't answer him for a moment, then he straightens up on the couch, rolls back his shoulders like he is bracing himself. He looks up at Sam, and all Sam can see are his eyes.

“It’s comfortable,” Bucky whispers. “And I always sleep better when you’re around.”

Sam's mouth is suddenly very dry, and his heart is drumming against his chest in a way he has come to associate with diving down in midair, or dropping from a high place before his wings open up. This, too, feels a little like falling.

“Buck,” Sam says, because he thinks they are on the verge of something here, but he needs to be sure, doesn't want to mess this up and do something he's going to regret just because his head wants so desperately to see what's not actually there. “You gotta tell me if I'm reading this wro--”

Bucky kisses him.

It's a short kiss, just a soft press of Bucky's lips against his own and he's already gone, moving back to look at Sam with wide eyes, face open and vulnerable.

“Okay?” Bucky asks, and if he didn't sound so uncertain, like he's expecting Sam to push him away at any moment, Sam would laugh at how much of an idiot they both are.

Instead, he holds Bucky's chin between his fingers and pulls him back in. The kiss is deeper this time, turns into a wet slide of tongues and a harsh grate of stubble that makes Sam's insides feel tangled and hot. Bucky's arm slides around Sam's waist, and Sam moves his hand from Bucky's chin into his hair, grips it in a way that makes Bucky exhale sharply into his mouth. Sam wants to touch him everywhere, and he moves his free hand to do just that when a long, loud meow interrupts them.

They break apart just in time for Alpine to jump on the couch and sprawl in the space between them.

Bucky huffs out a small laugh, pets her from head to tail. He looks lovely, with his hair sticking up in odd places from Sam's fingers raking through it, his lips red from kissing, and Sam itches to go back for more, to lay him down and map every single part of Bucky's body with his mouth. He has, however, a horrible feeling about this.

“We will never be able to do anything with her around, won't we?” Sam asks, voicing his thoughts out loud.

Bucky sends him an amused smile. “Someone feels confident.”

Sam rolls his eyes, bumps their knees together. “Says the one who was about to climb on top of me.”

He's pretty sure he was the one grabbing and pulling Bucky closer, actually, but it doesn't seem like Bucky is going to call him out on it.

“It was a good kiss,” Bucky says, smile going soft at the edges, turning shyer.

“It really was,” Sam agrees, and because Sarah is always right, even if he'll never admit it in front of her, he adds, “Wanna go out on a proper dinner, see a movie? Maybe do the kissing part again?”

He's not expecting the way Bucky's lips drop down at those words, and Sam's heart sinks. Maybe he did read this wrong, after all. Maybe Bucky wanted to keep things casual, no string attached, and Sam just ruined everything. He tries to tell himself it was better to know that now, before things got too serious on his side, but it gives him very little comfort.

Bucky takes a deep breath, lets it out in a huff. “I don’t know, man,” he says. “If you make me watch another one of these godawful movies I’m afraid I'm gonna have to break up with you before this relationship even starts.”

Sam blinks at him, then bursts out laughing, sudden and loud. “God, you're an asshole,” he declares, but there's no heat behind it, and when he searches for Bucky's hand, Bucky intertwines their fingers together, places a kiss on the back of Sam's hand as an apology.

“I’m lucky you have terrible tastes, then,” Bucky says.

Sam really has questionable tastes, and if you had told him a few years ago that this was how his life was going to turn out, he would have probably laughed, or worse, tried to stop it from happening. But now, sitting there with Bucky grinning at him and Alpine purring between them, he feels lucky too.

[musicallisto]

Hi, congrats on 800 followers! Can I please get a Six of Crows ship? I’m have short brown hair (I dyed red last week) and green eyes. I don't mind if im shipped with a girl or a boy. I like reading (no romantic novels), music and photography. I'm Aquarius. I’m very curious. I'm a little shy and even cold at first. I’m not good with feelings, I mostly keep them to myself if I can, but I care deeply for my loved ones and would do anything to help them, even if I'm not very good at giving advice. ☆

hi! here’s your vanilla milkshake, I hope you like it! I ship you with jesper fahey!

You don’t imagine the extent of my joy to be able to add a gif of an actual real person for Jesper... however shall I survive until Aprid 23rd?

For the longest time, you thought the world started and ended at your corner of Fjerda, in your frozen estate by the True Sea.

You were descented from minor Fjerdan nobility, and your father, jaded by Court Life and its political intrigues - and, unofficially, penniless after giving his all for the sempiternal wars on Ravka -, had decided to leave the capital and retire to his family’s estate by the sea a few years after you were born.

All you had ever known were the large, marbled corridors you’d spend entire afternoons wandering, daydreaming about adventures in the confines of the country - or living the lavish life of a true Fjerdan princess, in an outrageously enormous bed of satin sheets...

The house was spacious and beautiful, with a marvelous view over the sea, gently carrying its boats to and fro before you - and you’d stay there on the balcony in your flowy white dress, admiring the ocean until you couldn’t fight the chills of the night creeping up your spine anymore; but as tranquil and languid as your existence was, it was also terribly lonely.

All you longed for was a sibling, a friend, a partner in crime, someone you could explore the world and go on quests with...

... until a lighting bolt tore the silence, one night.

You couldn’t sleep, so you had gone on a walk by the shore as you often did - your father was never worried about it, since you knew the rocks and their cracks like the back of your hand, and would know the way back home even with your eyes closed.

But you were so absorbed by the distant twinkling of stars that you didn’t notice the shadows creeping up behind you until it was too late.

Screams in a language you can’t understand; an arm around your neck in a chokehold, another slipping under your knees; you thrash around, slice all you can, bite and claw at all you can grasp...

Your abductors know better than to let Fjerdan nobility get away from their grasp. They don’t know exactly who you are - but they’ve guessed from the distinguished aspect of your house that there’s a fine sum to gain from whoever will be willing to pay for you - your father for a ransom, or anyone else, in Kerch, who’ll make good use of your services.

Those brothels in Ketterdam pay good money for young girls, they hear - even more so for a Fjerdan pearl.

When they throw you on an overloaded carriage like a potato sack, you’re still yelling at the top of your lungs, pleading for your father, for one of your maids, for anyone to help you.

But no one hears.

You shed all the tears you have in the first night, tossed around in a dark chariot, off to somewhere unknown. Your father hasn’t prepared you for this - nothing, not even your books nor your fantastical imaginary adventures...

But you don’t intend on being sold off that easily. So you devise a plan to get away.

The first opportunity to break free presents itself when your kidnappers force you to board a ship; but they manage to catch you before you’ve run very far.

But second time’s the charm; with nothing better to do during the voyage than to bide your time and gnaw at your bonds, you’re able to slip from your captor’s watch, and blindly run through the harbor - just to get as far as possible from the stench of this floating carcass.

The first thing that strikes you is the odor. You’ve known the sea forever - it’s clear and bright as ice, and smells of fresh mornings and cold salt; never of this green rot that festers everywhere in these streets... and all those chimneys, all those people, who stare you down as you run down these grimy streets, barefoot in your off-white dress...

You understand that you’re farther from home than you’ve ever been, and it’s not a thrilling adventure, it’s terrifying and overwhelming, and you want nothing more than to burst into tears.

But you don’t, because a pair of strangers flag you down in a language you don’t understand.

A tall and lanky dark-skinned boy, wearing vibrant fabric and a self-assured grin; and possibly the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen in your life, all bright eyes and genuine frown.

Paralyzed, you open your mouth, once, twice, incapable of making the slightest sound; until the girl notices your visible discomfort, and, eyeing your pale eyes, asks in the slightest of Ravkan accents;

“Are you Fjerdan?”

You nod with all your soul. You’re ready to cling onto them both for dear life.

“What happened to you?”

Your voice fails you - you can’t explain it - you haven’t even comprehended it all. You were curled up in front of the fireplace just the night before...

“Do you have anywhere to go?”

You shake your head with despair, trying to blink back the tears.

“Come with us. We know someone who’ll help you.”

You don’t mull it over very long. Maybe it’s your sheltered uprbinging that has made you naive; maybe it’s the curiously comforting warmth you see in the Ravkan girl’s eyes; but you simply have no better option, and you can’t understand a word of Kerch, or wherever it is that this barbarian folk speak.

Although your two saviors start arguing, probably about whether or not they can reasonably take you in, your tear-stained cheeks and desperate vulnerability are enough to convince them - so you follow them.

Into the lair of the Dregs, of whom you’ve never heard - and of Kaz Brekker, who you know very well.

After all, he’s the infamous gangster who invaded your homeland, broke into the Ice Court, and stole the Shu boy - or so you saw your father read in the papers. To know that you are under the same roof as that lowlife would be enough to give your father a heart attack...

You’re half convinced that he’ll throw you back to the streets, but Nina and, surprisingly, Jesper as well, plead in your favor with a greatly convincing fervor. You learn that it’s probably because Kaz has much greater worries on his mind - the criminal group is planning on retrieving one of their own from the clutches of a treacherous business partner, or so you’ve gathered.

Either way, you’re more than happy that the terrifying and redoubtable Kaz Brekker is leaving you alone, and that you can enjoy Jesper’s company.

You two become unexpectedly good friends overtime. He comes to visit you at the Crow Club, where you’re staying, almost every day. Yet communication is not your strong suit, especially in a language you don’t understand at all, and you don’t fancy yourself a particularly enthralling girl to be around.

Not when one has lived the life of a criminal, a sharpshooter, a wanderer, a playboy... well, all those things that Jesper prises himself on being, and all those words he’s taught you in Kerch.

(That and the curse words, of course, that you’re a bit intimidated to use at first, until they slip out of your mouth one evening when you drop your plate at dinner with the Dregs, and the entire canteen falls dead silent.)

“Did she just say ‘fuck’?”

“I think she just said fuck.”

“See, Matthias, she wasn’t immediately struck by lighting by Djel’s hand. You won’t die if you say it.”

Speaking of Matthias, he’s also a good friend of yours - it’s comforting and refreshing to have a familiar face around, one of Fjerdan roots and mores.

Although the rest of the group says you’re not that Fjerdan.

“You’re one of the feisty ones, at least.”

“I’m not ‘feisty’. Shut up, Jesper.”

“Ah, I see you’ve been working on the vocabulary I taught you!”

Matthias and you both have a lot of soul-searching and unlearning to do about the outside world - you were raised in particularly bigoted environments, you somewhat less than him. The hatred for the Grisha he’s been taught by the Drüskelle is fear in your case; you’ve been brought up on bedtime stories of bloodthirsty Grisha who devour unruly kids, and war and devastation caused by their unstability and blasphemous magic.

It’s even more of a shock to you when you learn Jesper is a Grisha.

Unbeknownst to you, you’ve started to fall a little for him - how could you not? He’s funny, charming, sarcastic and witty; always has the best stories to tell, and despite it all, sincerely cares for you amidst the chaos of their heist and revenge plans.

But to learn he was the kind of monster - no, the kind of creature - no, the kind of person, you force yourself to correct mentally - that you had been taught to fear for your entire life...

“I’m so sorry. You should never have been there.”

He’s pacing back and forth in your room after a shootout has gone awry and you were caught in the crossifre; it’s the first time he’s ever had to use his Durast powers to get you of the mess - and normally he wouldn’t have, because it’s a secret he wishes he could carry to the grave, but the fear of losing you was too strong...

“Thank god that I was there, though. What would you do without me?”

He’s fidgety and restless, nervously playing with his pistols, and his nervous laugh is all but genuine; and you’re huddled up on your bed, staring him down with wide eyes.

“Jesper, you...”

“Yeah, maybe not the best moment.”

“Jesper...”

“It’s like they have a knack for knowing exactly where we’re gonna be and when...”

“Jesper!”

He abruptly turns to look at you, and his eyes widen. He’s starting to understand, almost, but refuses to believe it. Your voice is a murmur, and you can hardly hold his gaze.

“Jesper, are you... going to hurt me?”

His words die in his throat. He remembers where you’re from... the garbage that they must have filled your ears and head with from the day you were born... how feverish Matthias was with Nina... he looks at his hands, and his Materialki magic rumbles like a dark curse.

“Y/N, you’re scared of me?”

The sheer hurt in his voice breaks your heart. Even though you’re trembling, you let him step closer to you, slowly. It’s Jesper in front of you, not some ungodly monster from legends... Jesper, your Jesper...

“I’m... I’m sorry...”

He cups your face in his hands, warm and just a bit moist, and stares into your eyes with a vulnerability you have never seen in him.

“I’d never do anything to hurt you, Y/N, I swear on my life. All I want is you to be safe...”

Safe from me, if that’s what you wish, he thinks for a split second, but you don’t give him time to doubt; you’ve captured his lips in a frenzied kiss, and hold on for dear life onto his lean shoulders.

Fjerda and its blind hatred is very far from you, now. You're locked in Jesper's embrace, and you won't have to hear their lies anymore.

You know you have nothing to fear from him; not now, and not ever.

800 follower sleepover CLOSED!

[angelthebedsheet]

hi! can i request a hxh headcannon with kurapika maybe like what it's like being a relationship with him? sorry if you can't do this or i requested this the wrong way-

- anon

a/n: it’s alright anon! i’ll try my best to write about the loml and the bad bitch himself kurapika! love hims i may have went CRAZY for this. also i write on my phone so sorry if this is so long!

lets get it!

How yall started dating

okay so yall first met at the hunter exams elevator

the main four first walked in there and were surprised to see another person there

and gon being his friendly self started to chat it up with you

“hi im gon!!”

“hi gon. i’m y/n.”

kurapika there respectfully looking at you

like you’re attractive.

lookin at how those elevator lights shine on your beautiful melaninated skin

whew baby he went 😳 inside but greeted you

“im kurapika”

“well hello kurapika”

and that was the BEGINNING

timeskip up in this bitch rq

the arcs are pretty hazy to me so like.... lets say yall were feeling e/o during the york new city arc

yall both were trying to become bounty hunters and were alr pretty close to e/o

you suggested working with him and he liked that idea

yall alr fought really well tgt and he actually liked having you around him

so you both became neon’s bodyguards

yall were slowly becoming closer to each other each day yall worked together

like lingering touches, yearnful gazes

allat cute mushy shit

kurapika is one touch starved and closed off bitch so he’s struggling here

you on the other hand you KNOW you want kurapika like who wouldn’t want him???

he’s a whole package in that tuxedo 🥵🥵

n e ways

soon neon notices this shit and it goes downhill

this lil shit starts PURPOSELY locking yall in rooms together

like baby no we are supposed to protect you what are you doing???

“im not letting you out till you two kiss!!”

“i beg your pardon?” - kurapika

“neon huh???” - you

kurapika is internally like what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck i lwk wanna kiss em but.... feelings.

you can see the internal STRUGGLE thats going on in kura’s eyes

you just say fuck it and pray the gods and any other spiritual holy beings are on your side and kiss him

kurapika’s stomach said 🦋🦋🦋🦋 when you cupped his face

like your lips are SOFT

(no cuz like some of yall rlly be making y/n have crusty ass lips like um no baby i wear lip gloss and chapstick religiously you aint gon catch me w/ brittle ass lips)

and you cant tell me kurapika doesnt wear chapstick

and he’s like ✋🏽😳 hol up this kinda.... this kinda hits why didnt i do this earlier?

(bc you’re a gated ass bitch thats why honey)

my mans just has to kiss back

he kinda just gently holds your wrists and kisses back

now you’re deceased bc damn boy where you learned this???

no cap you kinda felt your knees buckle and he noticed that but yall not gon talk about that

and you two reluctantly pull away bc hello yall still on the job and literally are bodyguards

“the door wasnt even locked.”

“you cheeky lil shi—

cue you chasing neon while she runs away giggling

kurapika can only gently touch his lips and smile with a red face

In the Relationship

now yall are disgustingly cute in private

kurapika is definitely touch starved and he always needs to be touching you in some way

he always looks out for you too

he’ll definitely press tons of kisses to your face or the back of your neck

calls you a bunch of cheesy nicknames

darling, my love, my sun, sweetheart, beloved, honey, babylove (the stanely uris thats played by wyatt oleff makes me lose my sHIT)

my boy loves your hair so much

like the texture? the volume?

he’s all for it

he would probably ask canary about wash day bc she’s black herself

would 100% help you with wash day

want him to detangle your hair? hand him that rat toothed comb he’s on it

wash your hair? let him roll up his sleeves he’s on it

oil massages? pass them oil bottles baby he’s putting you to sleep

like you will be KNOCKED as he washes your hair or oils it bc he’s that skilled

i think he would struggle braiding your hair but after you show him?

this man is taking over and braiding your hair neater than you

like excuse me where did you learn this??

parting god.

them parts are crispy and straighter than a mf

literally doesn’t comb your hair like ya mama do w/ all that tugging and shit

he’ll just gently move your head along or softly apologize whenever he accidentally tugs on your hair and presses a kiss to your scalp

taking. baths. together.

my boy CRAVES that intimacy

no sexual shit

after a long day of work he just LOVES to take a nice bubble bath with you

either you leaning against his chest or you on the opposite end of the bath

he can always unwind around you and let go of that stoic facade he puts on

i would say he’s a lil goofy in private? like he’ll scoop up the bubbles and blow them in your face

if you want jokes you gotta give em

baby had to grow up quicker so he’s more mature for his age

i’d say if you want them giggles out? hold his waist and blow the back of his neck

the way he JERKS from that then starts laughing

heart eyes up in that bitch

his laugh is so 🥺🥺🥺🥰🥰

“darling!” “that was so FUCKING CUTE KURA WTFFF”

another way? blow kisses in his neck

he will giggle like a lil kid

god i love him

when you go to sleep he’s always big spoon

doesn’t matter if you’re taller than him

big. spoon. kurapika.

the only times you can hold him is when he has a breakdown and his scarlet eyes are activated

nightmares haunt him alot and he just needs to hear your heartbeat to know you’re still here

he needs to feel your warmth and you whispering that you’re here

other than those moments you better be fine with him holding you

i would say he doesn’t move alot in his sleep other than the small twitches

but for some reason his grip is strong as FUCK

like you aint getting out of his arms at ALL

if you gotta pee hold it

nah im kidding

just wake him up he’s not a deep sleeper but he isnt a light one either

if he were to wake up in the middle of the night he’d definitely fix your bonnet or durag if it fell off

morning kissies!

one way he loves waking up is kisses all over his face

especially kissing on his eyelids

it makes him wake up with a big ol smile

“morning beloved.”

WHEWWWWWW THE RASP

ahem anyways

“morning pikapika.”

he used to hate that nickname

now? baby LOVES it bc it’s just for him

the lohl giving him a nickname just for him makes butterflies in his stomach go crazy

he can practically feel the love oozing from your eyes

the way he wakes you up?

if he’s feeling a lil goofy or silly he’ll lay ontop of you and blow kisses into your neck

if he’s still tired he’ll cup your face and gently call your name

yall cook together

if you cant cook he will respectfully say take your goofy ass out of the kitchen

if you can? show him how to season your food correctly. rmb how he made that pig look pretty asf but merchi basically said it taste like shit?

not on your watch

he’ll take mental notes as you teach him the ways of goya and sazon

sometimes he’ll just gently take over

not bc he thinks you cant do it right but bc he likes to provide for others

you just gotta lightly slap his hands away like bby i got this its okay

and he’ll understand

kisses with him are very soft but passionate?

like he isnt gonna eat your lips but he will hold you close and make sure you know how much he loves you

he’ll definitely twirl your curls around his finger

you of course gave him your permission when you started dating

he will always have one arm around your waist and one hand behind your neck

doesnt matter if you’re taller

he will 100% get on his tiptoes and do it

or make you sit down

he doesnt CARE if he has to step on a stepladder he’ll do it

he said run me my kisses NEOW

i would definitely say he’s a passionate lover and would throw hands with ANYONE if they make any snarky comments about your skin

“my s/o’s skin is beautiful mind your business and take yourself somewhere else before i do it for you”

😳

🕶🤏🏾

sir.....

you would throw hands for him too

anyone says anything about him being a girl?

its over

there was a time where someone called him a girl who was confused and you went off and got into a fight

you won by a landside

kurapika was like 😟😦😳🥺

bc you really fought for his honor

but he had to pull you away before you damn near put this person in the hospital

“honey thank you but it was okay. it didnt bother me.”

“no but it bothered me! nobody can just talk about someone i love like that.”

he went 🥺🥺🥺

he definitely kissed the FUCK outta you when yall got home

yall hands were rated e for everyone!

a ride or die couple

yall are in love love

maybe he’s looking for a ring and kurta wedding earrings

[pechebeche]

been thinking a lot, again, about st judas and cleaning the slate. im finally at a point again where i can think abt it without having an immediate panic attack, which is nice. and much as the d20 fandom Pulled Some Shit on me - that fic was an important part of my life for so long.

much as accidentally losing everything on my blog was a nightmare, i am really enjoying the newfound fandom anonymity. part of me doesnt want to update the actual fic on ao3 to explain how it was planned to go, because it could mean those people finding me again. but i also want a record of it somewhere. i loved this story. all of the little plot twists and foreshadowing are going to be lost to time. accidentally deleting everything ive made since 2012 threw it back into perspective how important it is, to me, to archive my work.

so, in the interest of meeting in the middle, for anyone whos managed to stick around: here’s the final scene of st judas - in the spirit of this scene i posted a while back, because riz’s existential dread after dying and finding no afterlife was going to form the crux of the second- and third-act conflicts. and i’ll talk abt it, because i loved this fic, and i still think about it all the time. but im done working on it. im not touching it anymore. i have to let it go.

here’s to closure and happy endings, yall. <3

“What if when I die, it’s still like that?” Riz whispers. He’s sitting up in the darkness, his eyes doing that weird nightvision glint, eerie, catlike. His body is collapsed on itself, like he’s got no bones, or maybe like he’s all bones, just a pile stacked haphazardly imitating human form, fingers clenching in the blanket. “What if I stop existing?”

Fabian rolls over. “It won’t be.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

Fabian props himself up on one arm. When he tugs, Riz comes over easily, lets Fabian pull him over to lay down. “Then I’ll go to wherever you’re not-existing,” Fabian says, firm. He wants his voice to be all daring and adventure and I-can-do-anything-adventurer-naivety, but it’s coming out too soft to hit right. “And I’ll re-exist you.” 

Riz fuzzes out of his gloom, a little, fixing Fabian with a raised eyebrow, lips quirking – hesitant, half-making himself. “You might not be able to re-exist me,” he says, gentle and teasing and mourning at once. 

Fabian shrugs. “Then I’ll unexist myself so that we’re not-existing together.” 

Riz laughs out loud at that, burying his face in Fabian’s shoulder as he snorts, embarrassing and weird-sounding and irredeemably charming. “That’s so morbid,” he giggles, “don’t do that, oh my god, that’s so sad sounding - “ 

“Nah, I’m gonna.” 

“Don’t - Fabian, what the fuck, absolutely not.” 

“Hmm, too bad.” Fabian throws an arm around Riz. Riz yelps, flails, but settles into the grip, still half-smiling, curled up against Fabian’s chest. Fabian thinks, I would follow you anywhere you go. He thinks, You asked me to stay. I want to stay. “If I can’t bring you to me, I’m coming to you. That’s just how it is.” 

Riz isn’t smiling, but his expression is still fond, soft, slack against the pain and fear that had dominated it only a moment ago. “Thought the whole point was to live forever,” he says. “You don’t have to do that.” 

“Maybe - maybe that was the wrong point.” Fabian hesitates. He focuses his gaze on his thumb, rubbing circles into Riz’s shoulder where the hand is resting, so that he doesn’t have to meet Riz’s eyes. “Maybe the point is...is not living forever. Maybe. Maybe living forever is not the whole thing.” 

Fabian can’t look at Riz’s face, but he can still tell, peripheral, and maybe instinctive, that Riz’s face has gone impossibly soft, that Riz is proud of whatever breakthrough he’s stumbling his way through right now. Somehow, he still doesn’t see Riz’s hand as it comes up to cover his, doesn’t realize until it’s there, running smooth over his knuckles, a grip on a grip. “Maybe it’s not about living forever,” Riz repeats, watching careful. 

“Maybe...” Fabian swallows. “Maybe it’s about – about living good. Or happy. Or – I don’t know. Maybe it’s about...something else. Not living forever.” 

“You don’t have to know,” Riz whispers. “Maybe it’s about finding out what it’s about.” 

Fabian’s mouth twitches, an instinctive huff of laugh. He meets Riz’s eyes again. “Maybe it is,” he says. “Maybe not. But – whatever it is. I want to do it with you.” 

Riz pulls Fabian’s hand off his shoulder, up to his mouth, kisses each finger. Fabian’s breath catches. “Fabian,” Riz says, sincere, from the gut, “that’s kinda gay.” 

[zontiky]

okay so i tried to save this ask as a draft and it got deleted because tumblr is just such a functional website like that <3 but the prompt was “the hargreeves as ghosts in the apocalypse with five” or something like that i’m going to scream

this is SUPER long so i’m putting it under the cut hfkjsd

pre-five: the hargreeves siblings are dead. wait i feel a drabble coming on ooh

The Hargreeves siblings are dead.

Ben isn’t very aware of this at first. He’s been dead since 2006 -- he’s quite used to it, by now. What he is aware of, first, is light. Blinding white light. And Vanya, in the middle of it. He doesn’t close his eyes because he can’t feel pain, but if he could he thinks she would have made him blind. There’s light, and heat, and power, and then he closes his eyes anyway because the ceiling is collapsing around him and it’s instinctual.

When he opens them again he sees ash. Ash -- and Klaus.

He’s gotten used to Klaus, too. Klaus has a memorable sort of face; even if he didn’t, Ben has seen it every single day for almost twenty years. He doesn’t know if it’s actually been twenty years, for him. He doesn’t know how time moves for ghosts. Klaus has assured him it moves the same as it does for the living. Ben isn’t sure Klaus, stoned out of his mind, bleeding sluggishly from his arm, knew what he was talking about.

Anyway.

Klaus.

He’s wearing the coat he’s been flaunting around for the past week. His shirt is see-through, with little stars on it, like a pale imitation of the sky. Ben remembers his pants had laces on them, he’s sure they did not a minute ago, before the brightness that threatened to wipe out his very soul -- his soul is all he has left, really. His gaze drifts down anyway, to check.

Yes. Klaus’ pants have laces up the sides.

“No,” Ben says. Klaus is laying in a heap on the ground, his fingers curled like his tendons have been cut.

His lips feel numb because they always feel numb. Because Ben can’t feel at all. He takes a step. “No,” he says again, louder, surer. “No!”

Klaus looks up at him. His makeup is smudged, like it tends to be. His lips are bitten raw, like they tend to be. His hair is a mess, like it tends to be, and like it will be, always, because Klaus isn’t breathing.

Klaus is lying in a heap on the ground. Klaus is standing above his own body. Klaus is reaching for Ben like he’s hoping to touch him for the first time in years. Just when Klaus’ cold, dead, fingers brush his face, a voice from behind says, so quietly, dripping with disbelief: “Ben?”

Ben shuts his eyes and wishes desperately he could cry.

He feels a hand on his shoulder, for the first time in so, so long, but he also doesn’t feel it at all. He feels-but-doesn’t-feel someone turn him around, until they are saying, “Ben? Ben!” and he has no choice but to open his eyes and face the music.

Diego is gripping his shoulders like he is a dying man and Ben is the answer. Behind him, Luther and Allison watch them, stunned silent. Allison’s hands are pressed to her mouth. She looks like she wants to cry. 

And Vanya. Little Vanya, painted white. Her head is hung as her shoulders shake with the weight of the destruction she has so inevitably caused. (Ben would say he always knew she was destined for great things -- but he can’t, because he didn’t.) (Nobody ever said great things had to be good.)

The Hargreeves siblings are dead. Their bodies are strewn across what is left of their childhood home, smouldering and burning, and Ben is very aware of that fact.

righto anyway. so they have an emotional reunion but its also kind of bitter? id have to actually write this for it to make sense so lets skip it for now lol

five shows up

he cannot see them obviously bc theyre all ghosts

god if i did write this it would be such a monster of a fic and would take me like 2 years to finish i already know fhkjdsk

somehow ?? they manage to influence the world around them maybe? idk maybe now that klaus is dead hes sober

or maybe hes high for all eternity?

for the purposes of this au lets say he died sober or in the late stages of withdrawal, and bc ghosts cant feel pain in action hes sober

so EVENTUALLY they figure out how to corporealize bc klaus is like blam wham ghost powers

asdlfk that sounds so stupid im sorry

he would say that tho imho,,, it sounds like something hed say,,,

if i DID write this it would be alternating povs also,,,

ok so out of all of them klaus and ben have the most experience homeless

and while being stuck in an apocalypse is not at all the same thing as being homeless it does help to have some knowledge

five doesnt eat the twinkie!! good for him

dammit okay. theres 2 options we can take here. in the comics five couldnt get back bc he fucked up his math and spent 15 years doing the wrong thing, but if u apply that here, with 6 other ppl checking his work this could be avoided and they end up skipping the whole assassin shtick and just hopping straight back to 2019, ready to prevent the apocalypse

OR five still gets hired for the commission but the sibs are tagging along

i think bc five isnt completely alone in this au unfortunately dolores doesnt exist :((

for each other the 2 paths tho theres also options?? bc they (ghosts) can go back in time and inhabit their past selves bodies? OR they could just,,, cease to exist

IM JUST NOW REALIZING HOW MANY PATHS THIS COULD TAKE,, AAH FUCK

okay gonna split this into parts. this is gonna be so long brace yourselves.

1) they go back in time because math checking and the ghosts swap out for their past selves

after multiple years of being stuck in an apocalypse together i think they would learn to get along with each other. like at least a little bit

which would make it easier for them to prevent the apocalypse

bc theyd:

trust each other more

already know abt the apocalypse and not have to wait for five to grace them all with his knowledge

are working as a team from the very beginning

have open lines of communication

yeah uh. so there

vanya is also already aware of her powers so the whole harold goading her into turning against her family and snapping to wipe out all life on earth thing? yeah that doesnt happen

oh and harold wouldn’t know how to do that in the first place because klaus wouldn’t throw out reggie’s journal! this solves so many problems wtf

there’s still commission issues bc they (and by they i mean five) are on the commission’s radar

so there’s still dope fight scenes sdlkfd pinky promise

okay idk. they stop the apocalypse and everything is okay the end hfkjd

2) they fix the math but only five can go back and the ghosts cease to exist

this is just sad! it would be sad okay! im sad! lets move on

subset of the past one: ben CAN go back with five because he was already dead and time travel affects them differently or something idk

aaaaaa

five & ben dynamic duo would be dope as shit BUT five would not be able to see him... so they use klaus as a middleman fjsdsfd

is there 2 bens? is one ben deleted in favor of the time-traveling ben? i dont know! i dont know my brain is melting

either way shit is happening yall!! obviously klaus is clued in, directly or indirectly it doesnt matter but he is on board the ‘don’t let the entire world end in flames’ train

3) they join the commission and then when five goes back in time they all go back

this is fun because now five is a highly trained assassin who is also lowkey a complete marshmallow for his siblings and once again TEAMWORK WOO

basically the first path but now five has a gun fhsdjk

4) they join the commission but five has to leave them behind and they cease to exist

five with a gun but hes sad now

i didnt go into how much losing his siblings would suck in the prev path but like. it would suck so much. he’s already lost them once if you think about it when he time traveled the first time and yeah he found the adult ghost versions but,, its different

and now suddenly hes stuck with these strange adult versions of the people he knows and he KNOWS them but also he doesnt? at all? they dont have all the years of shared experiences together? and theyre all grown up from the first ‘set’ of siblings he had which for five was like 40+ years ago??

SCREAMS

i have losing my mind disease (self-diagnosed)

subset: five has to leave them behind but they still exist because the commission is out-of-time kind of? idk but they’re still floating around somewhere and come back to impact the plot later or something

yeah idk. literally just wrote them down bc i didnt want them to die^2 hfkjwehd

subset: they still exist but instead of being just Somewhere they’re specifically at the assassination of JFK onwards because thats where five left them and they either go on ghosting and make an appearance in s2 OR they cease because them-wise they havent died yet but that doesnt make sense because ghosts can time travel so nevermind

i dont have the brain energy left to explore this one aaaa

okay jesus christ i think that’s all

I DON’T KNOW. i don’t know. i might write some more of this because honestly it is a very fine flavor of angst + hurt/comfort <3

[theravencawsatmidnight]

Drag Me To Hell...

Monster Prompts #3 “i'm going to breed you” #11” look at you… I thought you wanted me to stop?” With Demon! King Bakugou.

Warnings. NonC. Group NonC. First Time. ImPreg. Mind Break. Blood.

You loved the supernatural . The Mercy Thompson Series, The Vampire Diaries. The TV shows, Lost Girl, Supernatural , Being Human . Even horror video games like Until Dawn. Anything horror and supernatural you loved. But you were taking that interest a little too far according to your friends. When you told them you wanted to try practising the Dark Arts and they just looked at you. ‘That's not a real thing ya know y/n’ is what they always told you. But who were they to tell you how to live your life?

You also wanted to buy a ouija board so you could see if you could talk to the dead. The website you ordered the board from seemed really into demons and hell but you paid no mind really. It would be cool to summon a demon but you were just a beginner . Before you were about to check out the site suggested a seance book. It was black and orange with an interesting star crest in the middle. You shrugged adding it on , smiling at that Free Shipping you just unlocked.

••

It arrived the very next day . In a pretty well put together purple box with a bloody red ribbon you couldn't see throwing away. So you made it into a bracelet and a necklace. It burned your skin once it made contact. But when you checked in the mirror nothing was there, no singes, nothing. So eh , what the hell. Right?

You sat down on the floor setting up the board and pulled the book on your lap to read it. You raised an eyebrow at the summoning items. Where the hell would you get goat's blood? A virgin sacrifice? Well.. you shrugged that off and found a chapter about the board. You set the book down and lit some candles, turning off the lights.

You grabbed the dial and held it over the board repeating the words in the book. The dial shook and you couldn't help but have a stupid grin on your face.

“ is anyone there?”

‘Y,E.,S”

You shook all giddy. “What's .. your name?”

“S.E.E. F.O.R Y.O.U.R.S.E.L.F”

You tilted your head. What did that mean? “How can i see you.?”

“B.L.O.O.D.C.H.A.L.K.”

“Blood and chalk? Like a chalk circle?”

“Y.E.S.”

You hopped up running to find some chalk and the dial spazzed out hovering over “M.I.N.E” .

••

He was sitting on his throne when you weakly summoned him. He looked up from his claws to see a wavy cloud of you reading a book. Oh look at you.. this might be fun. And you even have the ribbons on.. perfect.

He leaned on his knuckles while he talked to you. His long lizard tail slapping all around the hot ground. He was a Demon King in Hell. He had thousands of goblin minions who waited on him claw and foot. A giant red dog slept at his side , his fur was spiked on his back and the tips were black. The King though. Was at least 6’5. Lean, muscle, scary charred feet and legs that he covered with some kind of fur cloth. His chest was bare with scratches going in every direction along with the charred skin creeping up like hands up at his pecks. He had strong charred arms equipped with curved claws. The ashy blond hair traveled down to the middle of his back and his horns were long and mighty with a blood red crown hanging off the left horn. Curling back at the edge. Piercing red eyes stared into your soul. He chuckled deep at how innocent you were. He was going to break you.

••

You returned with the items and sat back down to see the dial where you left it. You made the circle on your carpet, placing the candles down on each tip. He grinned watching you.

“The knife. Use the knife my pet.” He said to himself leaning forward. His dog also woke up to see his master looking excited and hungry.

You held the knife to your head making a small cut . You winced, tipping your hand over and the blood fell in the center while you repeated the words in the book.

Bakugou grinned standing up as the cloud of you turned into a portal. He laughed alerting his goblins and they all ran over cheering for a new toy to arrive.

“Tonight we dine!!!” Bakugou yelled as his bat wings spread out bringing him to the portal.

The floor shook and you got very hot all of a sudden. The candles tipped over starting a fire and you backed away screaming. The circle opened up and a long charred claw rose out scratching at the floor .

You screamed again looking for the door but it was on fire. You started to cough and get dizzy. This wasn't actually happening was it?!? You summoned a DEMON? No no, i mean you CANT. A second claw appeared clawing up the floor and you saw two long horns along with a crown.

Bakugou pulled himself up stepping into your world with a very hungry grin on his face . His tail flicked around crushing your tv . His horns dug into the ceiling scratching it all up and his claws reached out to you, offering his hand. “Come. My little Feast. come meet your new Husband” He hissed at you , almost mocking you.

You backed up more and his tail shot to you grabbing your ankle making you scream out . He dragged you to him , his wings spreading out knocking everything over. You were getting hotter, burning. You could smell burning skin. You dug your nails into the carpet as if it would do something. Bakugou snapped his claws and the ribbon glowed making the burning flesh heal . You didn't feel any heat all of a sudden, you didn't feel like you were burning alive.

Bakugou grabbed your ankle and his tail let go . He laughed and laughed flipping you over, ripping your clothes off and licking your stomach to your face with his very long tongue. “Lets go , shall we?” He dragged you down with him, right down to hell.

••••

Bakugou grabbed your ankle yanking your clothes off and threw you right down once the portal closed. Right down to his minions and dog . The goblins caught you and immediately started touching you all over. Little slimy hands covered every inch of your body , touching your chest, pulling at your nipples and digging into your pussy. One of them tried to pry your mouth open and you shook him off , you rolled over and one of them humped your rear trying to get himself inside you.

You begged for this to stop but one of the goblins shoved his slimy cock down your throat and began to face fuck you. You screamed and he just went faster. another goblin went for your pussy and Bakugous tail grabbed him, tossing him into some lava. “No one touches my feast there. That's mine.” He said sitting back down on his throne watching the goblins stomp around forming a line at your mouth.

Bakugou laid his leg over his knee watching with satisfaction on his face. His dog rubbed on Bakugous side and Bakugou reached up to pet his nose. “Hungry?” He waved his hand and some meat appeared. The dog wagged his tail pouncing on the food and Bakugou turned his attention back to you.

••

Every single one used your mouth , and if one tried to sneak back in line Bakugou tossed them into the lava. You had cum falling out of your mouth forming a puddle at your chest. It was starting to form a bump in your stomach and your jaw was aching .

By the time they were all satisfied Bakugou got up and they all ran off on little short legs going elsewhere. Bakugou kneeled down grabbing your hair so he could see your face. You coughed up a bunch of cum heaving hard. He smiled at you showing off his fangs, talking deep.

“That was fun right? I'm surprised you lived through it. Most women dont. “

“I…”

“Hm? Why are you here? Why you summoned me of course. “ he licked at your face cleaning it all up from tears and cum. He spit into some lava and lifted you up more. “ Those words you repeated in the book? Were vows. Your mine. Forever. And if you think you're gonna die down here then guess again.” The ribbons glowed a shiny red. “Your immortal now. And I'm gonna breed you. Every.Single.Chance i get. “

“But im-...”

“But what.?!? A lonely little human? You thought you could .. play around with a little book?!? Practice some dark arts like they do in those fantasies of yours?!? Well guess what honey it's real. And you're never leaving this place.”

He dragged you to his throne sitting down and pulled you up, you tried to fight him but as soon as he grabbed hold of you he slid you right down on his hard cock all the way down. You screamed. It echoed all throughout hell . The smell of your blood made him go nuts. Fucking you hard and fast , he didint care if he was breaking you, didint care if it hurt. He only wanted to fuck you till your mind broke . Till you were begging him for his cock like a bitch in heat.

••

The days went on . And the goblins demanded service at least every other day. But fewer and fewer showed up since Bakugou had to toss them in the lava. Other demons showed up too, creatures you've never seen before. Wanting the same treatment. Your jaw broke a few times and Bakugou had to snap it back into place each time with an annoyed look on his face.

You were free to walk around Hell as you pleased, but if you did you had to service anyone you came across. And Bakugous dog had to go with you just in case anyone tried anything with your pussy. They could have your ass though, no matter how loud you screamed no one helped you. Just waited for their turn while the big demon dog wagged his tail watching the lava burst nearby .

Why exactly were you walking around Hell?!? A very small part of you.. the part that wasn't broken. Was fascinated with everything you saw. It was all you had left of yourself, your real self. You even found a quiet spot away from creatures and goblins. A shady spot with no lava , it looked like a little cave almost. You crawled inside hugging yourself . It had been a month? Maybe? Did anyone know you were gone? You looked down at your stomach rubbing the small bump. You had fallen pregnant at some point. All you could think about was what it would look like. And the king.

Your hand dipped between your legs and you rubbed your clit in circles , leaning back on the warm rock sighing with relief. The demon king rushed all around in your head causing you to breath hard and slip a couple fingers in. “My king..” you sighed into your shoulder. The dog howled and minutes later he was there, crouching down watching you with a smile.

“Look at you.”

“King..” you crawled to him in between his legs fishing his cock out and hugging his hips. He smirked turning you around to run a claw down your rear watching it shake . You offered your dripping pussy to him and he rubbed your stomach. “Look at you… I thought you wanted me to stop..,?”

A whine left your mouth and Bakugou got up on his knees rubbing his cock on you . You came hard just from that and Bakugou grinned, rubbing his cock on your clit . “Oh you little slut. I'm glad you saw it my way” He shoved all the way inside you and you looked up grinning like an idiot. You came again and Bakugou tipped his head back laughing into the dark.

••

@crushonkatsuki @knifeewifee @squeaky-ducky @maron-k-rh @lady-bakuhoe @kittifer @redflannel

[no6secretsanta]

Erlkönig

To: @happykawaiicinnamonroll From: @hi-im-secretly-satan

You asked for an angst fic, suggested getting sick and dying, so I delivered on both accounts! ;) It’s based on the German poem Erlkönig by Goethe, translated by Christopher Middelton. It was also turned into a Lied by Schubert. I highly recommend listening to it before reading this fic. I hope you enjoy and happy holidays! <3

Warnings: Major character death

—

“Shion, what’s that on your hands?”

Nezumi frantically ran through the chain of events that had resulted in him and Rikiga trying to wrestle a delirious Shion into the car, Inukashi anxiously tapping their foot behind them. When had things gone so wrong? He had only just saved Shion from being carried off to the Correctional Facility, a certain death sentence. Deeming themselves safe, they had freshened themselves up after the harrowing ordeal of escaping and Shion had been going on and on about his mother and strange deaths. At the time Nezumi had no clue what Shion was talking about, but now he berated himself for dismissing his words, for just as soon as he had waved him off, Shion became a victim himself. Shion had barely managed to escape from the terror that was No.6, only for another disaster to strike.

The parasite wasp.

In the moment Nezumi had briefly been grateful he had taken (stolen?) the first aid kit when he had quietly fled Shion’s house in the Cronos district, all those years ago. Now he cursed himself for not having made sure the equipment was sterile.

“How is he?”

Nezumi glanced up, catching Rikiga’s worried eyes in the rearview mirror before turning his attention back to Shion, lying curled up in the backseat with him, head resting in his lap. Shion’s breathing came erratically, fingers weakly clutching the torn and dirty fabric of Nezumi’s trousers, face screwed up in a pained grimace. Nezumi’s eyes fell from Shion’s pale face to the bandages wrapped around Shion’s neck, stained green and yellow with oozing pus, filling the car with a wretched smell. Merely a few short weeks ago he had yelled at Shion, a scalpel in his hand, demanding he live. But instead, Nezumi had unknowingly become the cause of his potential death. If the situation weren’t so dire, he’d laugh. Instead, he met Rikiga’s eyes again, and shook his head quickly, jaw clenched tight. Shion was dying, and it was his fault.

But he would not give up yet. They were going to smuggle Shion into No.6 and find a hospital to treat him. Shion had told them where to find one, directions wheezed through waves of pain. No matter the odds, they would succeed in this ridiculous, desperate plan. Shion would live, he would make sure of that. He refused to think of Shion dying, or how to go on living without him. He wasn’t sure he could.

“Nezumi…?”

Nezumi snapped to attention at the sound of Shion’s broken voice, barely audible over the loud car engine. “I’m here, Shion.” He brushed a few strands of tangled hair out of Shion’s face. His beautiful, white, almost translucent hair. Shion shivered but Nezumi doubted it was because of his touch.

“It hurts,” Shion moaned. Sweat beaded on his forehead and he hissed when a bump in the road jostled him and aggravated his already dreadful wound. “I don’t want to die. I… Nezumi, I want to live…” He weakly raised his hand and Nezumi immediately took it into his own.

“You’re gonna live,” Nezumi pressed, eyes locked determinedly with Shion’s. “You’ve survived this long, telling me how to take care of your wound for weeks. In No.6 they’ll be able to help you. You’re gonna make it.” He squeezed Shion’s hand reassuringly.

Shion shut his eyes and shook his head. “Sepsis and severe sepsis can last weeks but-”, a shudder ran through him and cut him off, “…but septic shock is quick and has- has a high mortality rate-”

“Shion.”

At his tone, Shion opened his eyes again and slightly turned his head to look hazily up at Nezumi.

Nezumi waited until he had Shion’s full attention. “You’re gonna live, you hear me? You can’t give up now. You still have so much to live for. I told you before, you still don’t know anything about sex, or books, or fighting. Do you really want to throw in the towel now?” Without realising, his voice had risen and he was nearly shouting. The mice which had been nestled silently in his scarf squeaked softly.

Shion stared up at him for a moment, before breaking out into a faint smile, eyes wet. “Yeah… Yeah, you’re right. I’m gonna make it.” A tear rolled down his cheek. Nezumi reached out to wipe it away. “Thank you, Nezumi.”

“Don’t thank me yet, just stay alive.”

Shion nodded and relaxed back into Nezumi’s lap, the corners of his lips still lifted in a soft smile. Unfortunately that smile warped into a grimace much too quickly. Shion moaned and curled up a little more, pulling his knees as far into his chest as the backseat would allow. Desperation seized Nezumi’s heart. Shion had saved him four years ago, he still hadn’t repaid that debt. He couldn’t let him die. He wracked his mind, trying to think of something, anything he could do to help, to ease Shion’s suffering.

There was one thing that came to mind, but Nezumi hesitated. It was a last resort, meant to ensure a peaceful, quiet death, but maybe, just maybe he could soothe Shion’s pain just long enough until they arrived at the hospital. Shion moaned again, fragile and broken, and the sound cut deep into his heart.

So Nezumi took a deep breath and sang.

It was soft, hardly louder than a whisper, but it seemed to resonate through the car. Inukashi, who had been barking orders at Rikiga from the passenger’s seat, fell quiet and turned to stare, dark eyes wide and knowing. Nezumi ignored them and kept all of his attention on the boy in his lap who had frozen and was now staring up at him with big eyes. For once Nezumi was glad that Shion knew nothing of literature, culture, or foreign languages, for if he’d understood the lyrics, he was sure he would never be forgiven.

“Who rides by the night in the wind so wild? It is the father, with his child. The boy is safe in his father’s arm. He holds him tight, he keeps him warm.”

Shion closed his eyes and a bit of the tension seemed to flow out of his body. Nezumi inwardly sighed in relief, too preoccupied to remember how Granny would berate him for doing so. He glanced out of the window and saw the gate fast approaching, so he tugged on the scarf around his neck and pulled it up to hide his face. The mice chittered and ran down his arms to hide in his pockets instead. The car came to a halt and Rikiga leaned out of the window towards the guard, murmuring quietly and urgently before handing over a thick wad of cash- a bribe both to let them in, and to forget they’d been there. Nezumi listened closely and mentally thanked whoever was out there when the car rolled forward again, passing unhindered through the gate and quickly picking up speed, desperate to reach the hospital as soon as possible.

“My son, what is it, why cover your face? Father, you see him, there in that place, The elfin king with his cloak and crown? It is only the mist rising up, my son.”

Unwinding his scarf from around his head, Nezumi gently covered Shion’s shivering body with the special fibre cloth. He remembered seeing this song performed in the dingy theater once, before he had joined the cast. A traveling singer and pianist duo had attempted to visit No.6 but were mercilessly cast out, so they had turned to wandering the West Block, trying to make some money at the rundown theater before moving on again. He hadn’t understood the meaning or language of the song then, only remembered the shivers that inexplicably had run down his spine and the strange, curling tension in the darkened corners of the room, until one day he stumbled across the poem in one of the books in the vault and finally understood.

In Nezumi’s lap, Shion stirred and burrowed under the blanket, grateful for the warmth despite his body heating up steadily.

““Dear little child, will you come with me? Beautiful games I’ll play with thee; Bright are the flowers we’ll find on the shore, My mother has golden robes fullscore.””

“Mum…” Shion murmured, weakly pushing away from Nezumi and raising his head, glazed eyes darting around, searching. “Where are you, mum…?” Nezumi swallowed, pausing his singing to wipe fresh tears from Shion’s face. “You’ll see her soon,” he promised quietly. He wasn’t sure if he could follow through on it. He had to believe.

“Father, O father, and did you not hear What the elfin king breathed into my ear?”

Shion shook his head insistently, gasping as the movement pulled at the weeping wound in his neck and sent pain shooting through his spine, setting his entire body aflame. “No, no, I want my mum,” he babbled. He tried to push himself up, trembling and weak, into a sitting position- but his arms lacked the strength to hold his own weight and he collapsed back into Nezumi’s lap, sobbing softly.

“Lie quiet, my child, now never you mind: Dry leaves it was that click in the wind.”

“Hush now,” Nezumi murmured in the most soothing voice he could muster, softly running a shaking hand through Shion’s hair. His vision became foggy and he blinked away the tears. “Be a good boy now and you’ll see her soon.” In the front seat Rikiga and Inukashi shared an anxious look.

““Come along now, you’re a fine little lad, My daughters will serve you, see you are glad; My daughters dance all night in a ring, They’ll cradle and dance you and lullaby sing, They’ll cradle and dance you and lullaby sing.””

Shion nodded quietly and obediently settled down, face still wet with tears but no longer weeping. He seemed to be at peace for a few moments, but then his eyes widened again and his breathing quickened. “Nezumi…”

Nezumi’s heart lurched at the sudden lucidity and he held his breath. “I’m here, Shion.”

Shion shook his head and shrunk away from him. “No… No, you’re not Nezumi… I-I need to see him…”

“Shion-”

“I need to know he’s safe…” Shion’s eyes darted around frantically. “He left so suddenly, I must see him again-”

Realisation dawned on Nezumi and when it sank in, it knocked all the wind from his lungs. Of course Shion wouldn’t recognise him; he was four years older now. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a shuddering breath, trying to stop the tears from spilling. There was nothing he could say to reassure Shion anymore. He was too far gone. Even if they reached the hospital, they probably couldn’t help him anymore. So he gathered all his courage, every ounce buried in his soul, and pushed it into the song, hoping it could help carry off Shion’s soul in peace, like it had done for countless others before him.

“Father, now look, in the gloom, do you see The elfin daughters beckon to me?”

Shion paused his desperate searching and looked at Nezumi like he saw him for the first time, watching him with childlike wonder. “You have a beautiful voice,” he murmured. He studied Nezumi’s face and smiled. “And your eyes… they’re just as grey…”

“My son, my son, I see it and say: Those old willows, they look so grey.”

Nezumi returned his smile in a way he hoped was reassuring and combed his fingers through Shion’s damp hair. Shion’s eyes fell shut and he sighed, a wisp of a sound.

““I love you, beguiled by your beauty I am, If you are unwilling I’ll force you to come!””

“Sir…” Shion said quietly and Nezumi’s heart fell into pieces. “If you ever find Nezumi, could you please tell him “thank you”? And that I miss him very much?”

“Father, his fingers grip me, O The elfin king has hurt me so!”

“And my mum, too. Promise me.”

Nezumi swallowed painfully and nodded, not daring to stop singing out of fear it would shatter the tentative calm that had washed over Shion.

Outside the car, the scenery rushed by, lush forests and bustling wildlife, carefully maintained by the City Hall, blurred by the speed of the car as Rikiga pressed harder down on the gas.

“Now struck with horror the father rides fast,”

“There’s the tree Shion mentioned!” Inukashi yelled, pointing ahead of them at a gnarled old oak tree. “Floor it, old man!!”

“If I go any faster we’ll all die before we can even get there!” Rikiga snapped in return.

“His gasping child in his arm to the last,”

“Please, sir, promise me…!” Shion begged, hazy eyes fixed unerringly on Nezumi’s own.

“Home through the thick and thin he sped:”

The trees parted to reveal the tiny hospital, a white and pure beacon of hope in the dark. Nezumi’s heart skipped a beat at the sight, but any and all hope that still lingered was crushed immediately after; wrapped in his arms, Shion took a ragged breath, spasmed once, twice, then fell limp, his blank eyes still staring up at Nezumi. Gravel sprayed under the wheels as the car swerved erratically into the parking lot and jerked into an abrupt halt. Seconds later the doors were yanked open and Nezumi heard someone yell something, but it didn’t register. He couldn’t move, frozen and staring unseeing at the boy in his arms, unable, unwilling to believe what his eyes and ears were telling him. A tear dripped down his cheek, followed by another, and another, falling like rain against Shion’s lifeless form. Nezumi’s mouth moved silently, voice trapped behind the gasping sobs threatening to choke him, leaving the last line to hang unsung, oppressive in the heavy air:  

(Locked in his arms, the child was dead.) 

[pixcldust]

𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭 ;

pairing | iwaizumi hajime x gn! reader

wordcount | 1.5k

warnings | mild mention of death, slight angst i think, small letters on purpose

tags | ambiguous ending, friendship to something more, no beta bc im shy

a/n | i don't write gender neutral often (i barely write in 2nd pov tbh) so if i messed something up, pls let me know!! it’s 1am but i couldn’t sleep lmaoo i’ll try to sleep again after posting this.

the beginnings of a love story in three parts. 

i.

it starts in the summer, with you lounging on a deck chair, eating candy that turns your tongue blue. you’re wearing shorts and a tanktop, in one of your friends’ big backyard, watching them scream and laugh in the pool. the sun feels like hell on your bare skin but the laughter is infectious and you’re laughing with them. never mind that it’s your last year of senior high school and that after this, you may never see half of these kids again. there is only the here, the now, and it’s brighter than you’ve ever felt for most of your life.

he comes over, a wide smile on his tan face and pool water dripping off his hair. his fingers move deftly to flick water at you, laughing as he dries his hands and picks up his phone. despite flipping him off, you note his good mood - it’s a rare sight to see him play around so childishly like this. you find that you quite like it.

“done with swimming?” you ask. he nods, eyes on his phone. the first few beats of some hip hop song that you don’t recognise starts playing from its speakers.

“my fingers look like prunes,” he groans as he puts down his phone and splays out his fingers at you childishly. you scrunch your face up at him in return.  “plus they want to go eat pizza after this, and hanamaki is gonna take years to shower so i wanted to get a headstart.”

“we’re eating pizza after?” you roll your eyes. “damn these kids and their big appetites.”

“you’re not hungry, because you’ve been eating so much candy,” he wrinkles his nose at the packet of pop rocks in your hand. “that’s not good for you, y’know?”

there’s a pause, him staring at you and you staring at him - time in a frozen state - before you sigh and motion for his hand. “if you wanted some, you could’ve just asked.”

iwaizumi grins as you pour some on his hand. his smile gleams bright against his skin. “thank you.”

he throws them into his mouth as he runs off to take a shower, and you feel a smile curve your lips. it’s odd. your boyfriend isn’t here - he’s opted to train today, even though it’s probably the last time all of you will ever be close together like this - but you can feel your heart skipping the way it does when you’re with him.

ii. 

you and oikawa started dating at the beginning of your third year. 

it was bound to happen eventually; at least, that’s what most of your friends told you so. you have always been friends with tooru and iwa and, when you reached high school, makki and mattsun. tooru was always the popular one, iwa was the reliable one and you were the calm one. a package deal - girls, students in general, who were interested in oikawa and were too intimidated to approach iwa would come to you. frankly, you didn’t mind. everyone had had a crush on oikawa at least once, and it wasn’t like you were any different when you were younger.

what you didn’t expect was for him to confess to you in your second year. it’s burned in the back of your memory: under the shade of one of the staircases near the gym, in the middle of your lunch break, tooru’s face reddening in embarrassment. you said yes, because you’ve always found him funny and cute and attractive in all the ways more than physical and wasn’t that enough to make a good relationship? 

apparently not, since it’s been several months since you last had a proper conversation with him.

he’s in the gym again today, still training by himself, even though he’s already graduated. he’s going to go overseas, to continue his volleyball training in another team. you know this because that was what he told you the last time you two had a proper conversation. good luck, you said to him because you know that volleyball meant that much to him. never mind that he always, always, always put the sport before you, because even though he was your boyfriend, he was also one of your best friends and that meant supporting his dreams. you’re going to be amazing.

you can hear the squeak of volleyball shoes on hard floor, the thwack of ball against flesh, as you approach the gym doors. he’s there - alone, because school’s out for the end-of-term holidays - and he doesn’t immediately notice you standing there. his eyes are too focused on the ball as he sets to himself. he’s always too focused on the ball.

when he does see you there, he lets the ball drop and give you a smile. “hey y/n. what are you doing here?”

seeing his happy face chips at some of your initial confidence and your words falter at your lips, unwilling to come out. a deep breath because if not now, then when? would you really be okay with letting this relationship drag on and on? if there’s one thing you’re certain of, it’s this: you have fallen out of love with oikawa tooru. and he knows it.

“tooru, I think we should break up.”

it hurts a little, if you’re being honest, as you watch the smile slide off his face, giving way to a soft frown. you know he’s had to do this before, watch a person leave him because he was a little too selfish to give up volleyball for anything else, and you hated knowing that he was going through it again. your fault this time. but you know he’s seen this coming. even matsukawa has asked if you were doing okay in a rare bout of seriousness before. at the time, you didn’t know how to answer the question.

oikawa tooru is a lot of things, but he isn’t stupid. he should have seen this coming from miles away, a freight train hurtling at him with its headlights bright and glaring. it’s deliberate ignorance; oikawa saw the train. he just didn’t feel like stepping off the tracks.

“is this because of volleyball?” he asks, tilting his head. he doesn’t have an argument against you, and you know it’s because he’s felt the romantic love for you die off back to a platonic one. like you felt it. “if so, i’m sorry y/n, i didn’t mean to make you feel lonely-”

“it’s okay, tooru. i’m really proud of you, y’know? and... i hope we can stay friends.”

the last sentence sounds more like a question but he’ll understand. his frown disappears at your words, and while it’s not a smile, it’s something like acceptance and that’s good enough for you at the moment. picking up the ball, he nods. “me too.”

iii.

you’re in a tank top and shorts once again, under blistering heat, only this time they’re new clothes, and it’s just you and hajime. all your friends have grown up and out, dotted all across the country. you hum to yourself, stretching your fingers. hajime passes a packet of pop rocks to you.

“hey haji. have you ever thought about death?”

he eyes you suspiciously like you’re about to trick him with nothing but words, and it makes you want to laugh. “sometimes, yeah.”

makki and mattsun moved out of miyagi after high school opting to attend fancy universities in tokyo. tooru left japan completely - said he was going to train twice as hard overseas after the opportunity presented itself. that just left you and iwaizumi, attending the same college in miyagi. you didn’t mind and, despite iwa’s occasional huffs, he never seems to mind either.

and maybe it’s because the both of you are older now, because you’ve found someone who doesn’t mind the way you prefer to skip over small talk, but recently it feels like hajime has been becoming your source of energy more and more. after classes end, he’s quick to send you a text and you’re even quicker to respond - at this point, you’ve visited almost every cafe in miyagi. even the shitty ones, to hajime’s dismay and your amusement.

“we’re so old now, it feels like i’m on the brink of death,” you groan, pouring pop rocks straight into your mouth. they fizzle like miniature fireworks on your tongue. 

a magazine smacks you on the head but you can’t be bothered to turn and glare at him. you opt to glare straight ahead of you instead, to the pool and the few people in it. sunlight bounces off of the glittery water and your glare turns to a squint. “you’re 21, you’re not 71.”

“maybe it’s the heat getting to me.

“yeah, it’s seriously hot today,” iwaizumi knits his brows, sitting up in his seat. you steal a glance at his exposed biceps - bless his tank top - and feel a strange pound in your chest. opting to ignore it, your lips unfurl into a grin.

“sorry about that.”

the magazine thwacks you on the head again, but not before you see his lips curl into a amused smile to match yours. “shut up.”

all your friends have grown up and out, but your happiness is only beginning.

[magniloquent-raven]

Number 73 "take mine" I'm thinking jacket sharing with Harringrove (either offering the jacket) if you have time!! 💖 💖

so. it’s not jacket sharing, i hope that’s okay!! and it’s actually a sequel to your first prompt? @bambixxblue and i were talking about a fix-it sequel where billy comes back and im weak for fix-its so i ended up with this. it’s. angsty. but also. soft? idk, i hope u like it anyway!!

basically the premise is billy and hopper were both in russia and had to break out together. posted on ao3

—-

Max turned seventeen three weeks ago. It’s hard to keep track of the days sometimes but Billy’s pretty sure he’s right. It’s hard to wrap his brain around Max being seventeen. When he pictures her in his head she’s still a bratty twelve-year-old with skinned knees who doesn’t know when to shut her mouth.

He tells Hop. Tells him about the birthdays he was there for, wonders about the ones he wasn’t. Cries a little too. Funny how easy it is to do that now. It used to be an ordeal, would burn and claw at him until he broke. He’s too exhausted for that nowadays, lets his tears fall unfettered and ignores the shame that still sneaks up on him when he does.

They have to be quiet, always afraid of being caught again. Billy’s constantly looking over his shoulder, jumping at shadows. It’s stupid to risk it, for something so trivial, but he can’t stop the words from spilling out.

“You miss her.” It’s not a question. Hop doesn’t ask that kind of shit, he just knows. Which is why Billy doesn’t respond. Doesn’t have to.

He pats Billy’s shoulder awkwardly. It’s the clumsy kind of affection a father is supposed to offer and it sets Billy off again, tears dripping down his nose and cutting streaks through the dirt smeared on his cheeks.

They’re holed up in an abandoned warehouse this time. Waiting. Always waiting. The plan is to stow away in the next cargo hold with enough space but in the meantime they’re fugitives, laying low wherever they can find empty, forgotten places.

Hop tells him about El while they wait. Billy’s heard most of his stories by now, but he listens anyway. Listens to the wobble in his voice as he talks about teaching El to read, hears the question under it all, about whether he’ll ever see her again.

Billy wishes he had an answer.

~~

The first time Billy set foot in Hawkins, Indiana, he was seventeen, angry and wanting nothing more than to be anywhere else.

It’s three days after his twenty-second birthday the second time. An icy December evening, dark and windy. He’s exhausted. He hasn’t eaten in two days. He’s a patchwork tapestry of scars that weren’t there before, a battered effigy of the person he used to be, cobbled together with scraps of what he could salvage.

Hawkins is the same unremarkable, rinky-dink town it always was. Seeing it again is a relief and a punch in the gut all at once. It’s all he’s wanted for three years, but it’s terrifying.

They end up in Loch Nora, of all places. The Byers’ old house was empty, and going too far into town is risky. 

It doesn’t feel real. Standing on Steve Harrington’s front porch, suddenly all too aware of the layer of sweat and grime on his skin. This place is too clean, too quiet. Peaceful, in a way that can’t be true.

Billy chews on his thumbnail, stands behind Hopper while he bangs on the door. There are no cars in the driveway, which means at the very least Steve’s parents won’t answer the door. But there’s no guarantee that Steve even lives here anymore.

He’s getting antsy, glancing around, heart pounding.

Then the door swings open.

Billy is seventeen, half-drunk and stinking like beer, colder than he’ll let on because fucking Indiana and its shitty weather, wiping the drool from his chin when he spots him across a room, already half in love by the time he’s clambered over a couch to get a closer look.

He blinks. He’s twenty-two, pale and shivering, thumbnail still between his teeth, and Steve Harrington’s doe eyes still make him weak in the knees.

Steve’s hair is longer, brushing his shoulders, but other than that he doesn’t look any different. Except that he isn’t looking at Billy with thinly veiled contempt or anger.

“Hey, kid.” Hopper says. “Gonna let us inside, or what?”

Steve is silent. Staring, lips parted. One hand still on the doorknob, the other slack at his side. He sways dangerously, and Billy tenses, prepared to catch him if he falls over. He doesn’t, but Billy’s still itching to touch him.

“Am I dreaming?” Steve blurts, looking dazed, unable to decide who to look at and ending up unfocused and hazy.

Yeah, it’s me, don’t cream your pants. The memory feels like someone else’s. A lifetime ago.

Billy bites down on his lip, battling an inexplicable, and slightly hysterical, urge to laugh.

“Dream about me often, Harrington?” Billy says, because apparently it takes more than nearly dying and spending three years as a fugitive to get over his inability to keep his mouth shut around pretty boys (or one in particular). Though now his voice comes out soft, quiet, betraying genuine sentiment. He’s not sure if that’s better or worse than the armor of taunts he used to cover that shit up with.

Probably worse.

Steve’s looking at him. Only him. Billy had almost forgotten how addictive that is. He watches Steve’s mouth open and close, tracks the way one corner curls up a little when he lets out a little disbelieving huff that isn’t quite a laugh. “More than you’d think,” he murmurs.

And Billy’s brain shuts off. There are a thousand questions stuck up there, but he can’t get a single one of them out because he’s too busy trying to get past, more than you’d think, echoing through his head in surround sound.

He’s startled out of his Steve-induced haze by Hopper’s pointed cough.

It seems like he’s not the only one, because Steve visibly flinches, “Right, shit,” he stammers, “Get—uh, get inside.” He ushers them in, glancing around, checking the street behind them.

The Harrington residence is one of those big fancy houses with more rooms than anyone could possibly need, but that means multiple bathrooms so Steve (as politely as possible) tells them they can both shower whenever they feel like it. And he fusses. A lot. All nervous hands clutching his elbows and teeth worrying at the inside of his cheek, eyes darting between Billy and Hopper like he’s sure they’ll vanish any second and never have been there at all.

Billy isn’t sure how to deal with it, so he avoids his eyes. Then misses looking at him.

An hour later they’re all in the kitchen. Billy keeps plucking at the sleeve of his borrowed sweatshirt, trying to keep calm. It’s too much, all at once. His skin feels raw, weird and tight. The overhead light is too bright, and the smell of Steve on everything is making him lightheaded. The soft detergent scent from his clothes, the shampoo Billy used when he showered (his hair is a lot longer than it used to be, it took forever to detangle it all).

Steve makes some calls. It’s late, too late to be calling people’s houses but he does it anyway.

Not long after, the front door bursts open.

Max is taller than he remembers. Rougher around the edges. Her hair is a choppy mess, auburn waves sticking out in every direction, curling around her ears, and there’s the sharp glimmer of silver in one lobe. She’s wearing a jean jacket with a torn elbow.

And she’s crying, messy and red-eyed, not bothering to wipe the snot from her nose.

“Where. The fuck. Have you been?” she sobs, shoulders shaking, and she practically trips forward in her hurry to throw her arms around Billy’s neck.

He opens his mouth. Closes it again. Feels unsteady, like he’ll fall to pieces if he moves wrong.

“I’m here now,” is all he can manage. She doesn’t need to hear about military hospitals and Russian prisons, about being kept in a cell, wondering if he’d ever see sunlight again… She doesn’t need that right now. Hell, he’s not ready to talk about it. Might never be.

He hugs her back, torn between wanting to squeeze as hard as he can, make sure she’s real, and being terrified of breaking her.

She still uses that shitty coconut-scented soap, and that’s what shatters him. He’s crying into her shoulder, clutching the back of her jacket. He used to dwarf her, remembers her being tiny and fragile, despite her fierceness, yet now she’s supporting his weight while he buckles.

They’ve never actually hugged before, he realizes, and that realization opens a door he wishes he could’ve left closed a little longer.

Guilt. Like undertow, pulling him back to harsh reality, cold steel gripping his heart, weighing it down. He should’ve been better. Treated her better. And now she’s here, crying like she actually missed him, and he doesn’t deserve it.

He pulls away, wiping the back of his hand across his eyes.

She’s still looking at him, hands on his shoulders, a wobbly smile on her face.

Billy is overwhelmed again. It must show, because suddenly Steve is at Max’s side, eyes gentle and his soft mouth pinched in a frown, “Max. Maybe give him some space.”

She clenches her jaw, probably physically holding back an argument, and nods, stepping back despite the reluctance written all over her face.

“I’m sorry,” Billy says, barely louder than a whisper. Then he can’t stop himself from saying it, again and again, gaze fixed on the floor, tears still dripping down his chin. He has to bite his lip hard enough to draw blood to finally stem the tide of apologies. He squeezes his eyes shut, tries to will the world away.

“Billy.” Steve’s voice is soft. He has a nice voice, so Billy focuses on it, through all the angry buzzing in his ears. “Billy, I need you to nod if you’re listening.” He doesn’t want to, he wants to curl up and fucking die, anything but be a person right now because everything hurts and there isn’t enough air in this room and— “Billy?”

He bows his head, twitches, it’s barely a nod but it’s all he’s got.

“Okay, good. Can I touch your hand?”

Billy’s heart stutters, aches. He’s having a hard time concentrating through the burn in the back of his throat, the static drowning out his thoughts. He nods again.

Steve’s fingers are gentle, pulling Billy’s hand from where it had tangled in his hair. He hadn’t noticed the fingernails digging into his scalp until Steve took one of his hands away. It ends up pressed against something warm, soft material under his fingers, moving slow—oh. His hand is on Steve’s chest.

“Can you breathe with me? Concentrate on me, okay?”

He does.

Steve’s cradling his hand. He’s got callouses along the top of his palm, barely there but present. He’s breathing deep, calm and steady. But despite his outward demeanour his heart is racing, Billy can feel it through his shirt. He curls his fingers into the sensation, fingertips digging in as far as he can push them.

Billy almost forgets to breathe he’s so fixated on Steve’s heartbeat.

It does its job either way though, because exhaustion is starting to hit him as the static recedes. He sags, relaxes. Every muscle in his body feels leaden.

He opens his eyes, squints against the sudden light.

He’s almost afraid to look up. Afraid of being judged, of triggering another episode, so fucking terrified, all the time—

“Billy?”

His fingers twitch reflexively, tightening his grip on Steve’s polo.

“You good?” His voice is still so soft, and so close it hurts.

It takes several long moments for Billy to collect himself. Then he looks up.

Max is hovering, standing behind Steve with wide eyes, her worry palpable. Hopper looks grim, but then again, he kind of always does. He’s a respectable distance away, watching. And Steve… Steve is right there still, holding Billy’s hand and looking at him like he cares, doe eyes shining, fixed on Billy’s face.

“I’m okay,” Billy says, voice rough. He sounds like hell, but they all visibly relax anyway.

The room is silent for too long after that. It feels tense in a distant way, like it would be awkward if Billy had the energy to care, was awake enough to feel anything but vaguely fuzzy. He’s still got a handful of shirt and doesn’t plan on letting go any time soon. Steve’s the only thing keeping him upright, and he hasn’t let go either.

“Did… did I do something wrong?” Max asks, her voice is small and tremulous and cuts right through Billy.

“No!” he’s quick to cut in, “No. Max. It’s…” Billy trembles, stutters to a stop. He has no idea how to explain, even to himself, let alone Max. Steve squeezes his hand. His stomach flips. “It’s not your fault.”

She doesn’t look like she believes him, but she doesn’t argue. He wishes he could make it better, but he’s got no idea how.

“We should all get some sleep,” Steve says.

And that’s that. His tone brooks no argument, even in a room full of stubborn assholes. Apparently, the past few years have given Steve time to hone his babysitting skills. Or maybe they’re all just as exhausted as Billy is.

There’s some squabbling about sleeping arrangements though.

Everyone insists Hopper take the master bedroom, Steve says his parents won’t know or care, his old friends did worse than sleep in that bed. They all poke at him until he relents and trudges off, bidding them a quiet goodnight.

Then Billy says he’ll take the couch and both Steve and Max yell at him.

Billy rolls his eyes. “It’s fine, guys,” he mutters. He’s not about to make Max sleep on the weird little couch (he’s done enough to her already) and putting Steve out in his own house would be shitty. “It’s not like I haven’t slept on worse.” He winces as he says it, realizing as the words come out of his mouth that it’s probably the wrong thing to say. It was meant as a reassurance, that he would in fact be fine with the couch, because at least it’s clean and warm, but all it does is make Max look sad and put a little wrinkle between Steve’s eyebrows.

“I’ve slept on this couch before,” Max says, a stubborn tilt to her jaw, “I’ll take it.”

Steve scoffs at that, “You complain every time you have to sleep on that couch, Max. Take the guest bed. Billy can take mine.” His fingers tense when he says it, and Billy realizes they’re still holding hands. His hand slipped from Steve’s shirt while they were bullying Hopper into taking the master suite, but Steve has yet to let go.

And… suddenly he wants nothing more than to sleep in Steve’s bed. But. “Only if you come with me,” he blurts.

Which is really not how he should have said that, but it’s out there now.

“Oh my god,” he hears Max mutter.

His whole head feels like it’s on fire. “Shit. I—I mean—”

“Okay,” Steve says hurriedly, then clears his throat, “Yeah. That. That works. Uh. Okay.” He’s glancing at Max awkwardly, nervous, but she just rolls her eyes. Billy barely notices her do it, too busy looking at Steve, his heart hammering.

“Steve, it’s okay. I’m—” It’s her turn to look uncertain, but it’s only for a second. “Me and El are dating. We’ve been trying to figure out how to tell everyone, and—yeah. Anyway. I’m not going to judge you, or whatever.”

Well, that was not at all what Billy was expecting. He takes a moment to worry about both of them, be terrified of what would happen to them if someone found out. Then he remembers that El can kill people with her brain and Max once threatened to castrate him with a spiked bat. The knot of anxiety doesn’t dissipate but he’s freaking out less.

“How long has that been going on?” Steve asks, sounding more bemused than anything.

Max turns pink, and it’s kind of fascinating to watch. She’s flustered. That’s adorable. “Since, um. Since April.”

“Happy for you, kid,” Billy says. And he means it. He barely knows El, in theory, but really. The kid’s been in his head. He could recite every story Hopper’s told him about her from memory. He died protecting her.

He knows her well enough to know she’s good for Max, and he loves Max enough to want her to have good things.

She grins, bright and real. Billy’s fairly certain he’s never seen her that happy before, and his heart clenches.

“I’m not sure who I’m supposed to give the shovel talk to here,” Steve says, more to himself than anything.

Billy snickers, and tugs on Steve’s hand, “Like you could take either of them.”

Steve steps closer, looking faux-offended, “I’ll have you know I won a fight once.”

“Yeah, three years ago. You’re a has-been, Harrington,” Max chimes in.

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

“I’m seventeen, dingus.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Robin.”

He missed them so much. Missed something he, if he’s being honest with himself, never really had in the first place. They both hated his guts before, and he… he was a mess. Still is. Just a different kind now. But being here, being part of this, is something he always on some level wanted and…

“Oh my god, Billy, are you okay?” Max asks, concern bleeding into her voice.

He’s crying again, smiles through the tears. “Yeah. Yeah I am.”

[authorized-trash]

To Tie a Knot: Chapter 4: That Moment When Fate Ships You With Four Other People

Ao3

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Five

Content Warnings: Mentioned character death, vomit mention, self deprecation, panic attack, cursing, (tell me if there's more)

Chapter Summary:

That moment when you need to find yet another boyfriend to add to your collection, *sigh*.

Word Count:

2,500+

Note:

I was hit with inspiration for some reason, so here’s this chapter, and the next one will be up in a little bit, I just got to format it for tumblr. Sorry its been awhile, this story is kinda just, I update whenever my mind decides to. 

Everyone over on Ao3 has taken well to this chapter and the next chapter, so I hope you all do too!

(Incase you were wondering, i changed up the chapter titles, i got tired of trying to come up with different alliterate phrases, so im just gonna be dumb with the titles as;ldfkj)

- -

Damian hadn’t even noticed when he slumped to his knees. Tears dripped from his cheeks and landed onto his outstretched palm. Remy’s eyes widened and he quickly moved to get on Damian’s level.

“Dee? You okay there? Did you not know?” He asked, gently taking Damian’s trembling hands in his own. Damian let him, too shocked to take them back.

“N-no? What? How am I supposed to deal with four Remy, I already lost one I can’t- I can’t lose four!” Damian said, staring blankly at his hands, at the strings he was now aware of. He could feel them tug and twitch as his soulmates moved. They were all pretty close to one another, stretching in the same direction. Figures, they had probably met up by now. 

Damian was the outcast.

“You aren’t going to lose them,” Remy said, an edge to his voice, “Damian you won’t lose them, you were jus- just unlucky the first time, babes, I promise. This time will be better.”

“No Remy you don’t understand, they’re paired with me, they’ll die, I’m bad luck or something-”

“Damian Janus Lyer, don’t. Don’t say that. You’re not. I know you, this isn’t you, you’re just tired and not thinking clearly. This is a good thing. You aren’t bad luck. You aren’t, and babes, if I hear you say that one more time I’m going to throw some punches,” Remy said. Damian gave a watery chuckle, and Remy smirked.

“Listen, you are in no state to go in there right now. Why don’t we ditch for a little while and go get some food or somethin’”

Damian nodded, moving to stand. He dusted himself off. He looked down at his strings. The four colors were all lovely, red, blue, indigo, and purple. The colors were deep and ethereal in a magicky sort of way. 

Without thinking he strummed a finger across them, and startled when three out of the four tugged back. The last one, purple, started vibrating in a way that one would think meant the person on the other side was running their finger across the line.

More tears gathered in Damian’s eyes. He was connected with these people. They were his soulmates. They were there, on the other side, waiting. The thought of them being disappointed weighed heavy, but in this small moment he could only think of the opportunity that was given to him.

Remy watched this with a small smile, ruffling Damian’s hair as they began to walk off campus to his car.

Damian followed, hurriedly wiping the tears from his eyes and smoothing his hair down.

“Listen, babes, you pick where we eat, and I’ll pay.”

Damian shrugged, “Thanks.”

“What? No arguing that you’ll pay this time?”

Damian rolled his eyes, “You offered and I’m too emotionally confused to argue.” 

His voice was thick with tears and still wobbled every once in a while, but he had managed to compose himself well enough by now. He slid into the car seat next to Remy.

He made a point not to touch the strings, not wanting them to move. He didn’t want to seem needy or something. He relaxed fractionally, attempting to gaige some personality from the strings. Indigo (Or was it navy? It was rather dark, nearly black. It was decidedly not black when reflecting light), was shaking around as if someone was writing with that hand. Red was pretty still, expect for a few swoopy movements, as if the person was flailing their arms around. Purple was shaking slightly but otherwise not moving, and blue was fluttering around like crazy, and Damian was certain the person was messing with their string.

For a moment he wondered what his string looked like to them. He hoped it was yellow, maybe gold. He liked those colors. Green would also be nice, but he doubted that was the color, seeing as his last soul string was gre-

Damian’s breath hitched, and that feeling of loss hit him hard, and he clenched his hands into fists. Remy glanced over at him, but didn’t comment.

He was so caught up in this new soulmate business he had forgotten he had already had one. One he had lost. The string he had grown up with, the one he had talked about with friends in grade school. The one that appeared on his fragile little hands when he was born. The part of his soul that he grew to know.

The one he knew would shake wildly sometimes, or tug painfully at others. The one he would console with gentle strokes late at night when he would wake up to it trembling. The one that would do the same for him, that had always been a comfortable weight throughout his recovery as a kid.

He would never meet the other end. Never know who it was. 

They could have died suddenly or painfully, and here they were, forgotten by their soulmate a month later due to the reassigning. Damian was so ready to forget them, and the guilt of that was weighing on him so hard he wanted to vomit.

He pulled his knees to his chest and tried to steady his breathing, ignoring the light feeling of the dangling frayed string on his hand. 

He closed his eyes and lied to himself about how bad it hurt.

-

“It is a very lovely shade of yellow,” Roman commented from where he was laying on the couch. He was looking up towards the ceiling, his hand containing his string collection in front of his face as he examined the sun colored string as it swung with the others.

“It reminds me of a sunflower when hit by the sun juuusst right,” Patton said, curled up on Roman’s chest. He was also looking at Roman’s hand, messing with his own strings absentmindedly. 

Logan was sitting in the arm chair across the room, having stayed home. They all had decided to take the day off of responsibilities, this was a large occasion, after all. He had a notepad on his lap and was writing down everything he could about the situation. He had a knack for writing information about anything and everything down. He liked to be well documented.

Virgil was curled up on the floor, scrolling through Tumblr in the way he does when he’s thinking, and not reading a single thing. If it looked like art and was colorful, he reblogged it without thinking. He was more focused on the way the new string on his hand looked as he occasionally typed.

They all sat around in domestic silence, preparing for the long talk they were going to have to have soon. 

They all noticed it, despite no one saying it aloud. That feeling of something missing. They grew up with it, but had by now gotten so used to that feeling of wholeness. Now that it was gone, so suddenly? They didn’t know how to feel about it, really. It’s easy to lose something you didn’t get a chance to know or experience, but getting a taste of something amazing to have it disappear was near torture.

“I think it appears to resemble the yellow paint Roman likes to get all of the carpet,” Logan said, lips upturning slightly at Roman’s upfronted sound.

“Nah, it def’ looks like… I don’t know, snakey,” Virgil said.

“Snakey?” Roman asked, laughing slightly, “What about the color looks like a slithering reptile?”

“Uh, snakes equal yellow, duh? Same as seven being green,” Virgil rolled his eyes as if it were obvious.

Patton laughed, “Kiddo, seven is pink.”

“Seven is seven? It cannot be either pink or green, it is a number,” Logan said, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

“Just let them be weird, Specs, with their weird color assigning,” Roman laughed, sitting up. Patton yelped as he slid off the couch.

“Listen, I’m just saying its snake yellow,” Virgil said, “But if you wann-”

Virgil was caught off as a particularly hard twinge came from the yellow string. He looked around at the others, and noticed they had felt it too. Up until this point the string was pretty chill, if a little shaky. Logan had suggested earlier it was due to shock.

As crazy as gaining a new string out of the blue was a wild, gaining four strings must have been insane. Virgil pitied the poor person, it probably scared the shit out of them.

Without thinking, he reached forward and ran his index finger over the string a few times, showing that he was here.

“This is so exciting! We have another soulmate to hunt down!” He waved his arms around animatedly. He looked as if the idea had just clicked for him.

There was a whole other person out there waiting for them, someone who would fit into their little dynamic. Someone with likes and dislikes and quirks and feelings, a whole human being.

Virgil felt himself smiling along with the others. Logan had gone back to scribbling on his notepad, even faster this time. Patton was chatting with Roman about the possibilities while rolling the string around in his fingers.

Virgil curled into the warmth of his hoodie, and for once, allowed himself to look forward to the unknown future.

-

By the time Damian had gotten home late that night, he was exhausted. He collapsed onto his bed in a pile of limbs, kicking his shoes off and snuggling into the covers. He didn’t bother with his shirt other than unbuttoning the top couple of buttons, and he had long since ditched his gloves. They were currently somewhere buried in his bag.

He and Remy had loitered around town for a while, talking about anything and everything. Damian had really tried to be in high spirits and give his usual sarcasm, but he just wasn’t feeling it. 

His eyes drifted shut, and the beginnings of a dream had already begun to swirl, sounds and nonsense conversations were supplied to his mind, and he let his mind wander as it drifted into resting mode.

That is, until he felt a tug on his ring finger.

 He opened his eyes a bit, glancing down at his hand, at the indigo string.

Tug.

His eyes opened, he was paying attention now.

Tug tug tug tug. Tug. Tug pull tug tug. Tug pull tug tug. Pull pull pull.

Damian moved to sit up, but found the effort to be too much. He decided, through the hazy-slow process that was thinking when half asleep, that this was a matter of importance, and therefore should happen in the morning. So he fell back asleep without paying it too much mind.

-

Logan sighed heavily as he stood from his chair, giving up on tapping out a message to their new soulmate. During their talk earlier the group had decided that it would be a good idea to try and meet this person as soon as possible, in order to diminish the time they felt incomplete.

It shouldn’t be too difficult. They could all drive, and all felt like the soulmate had to be relatively close. Reassignments normally happened to people who are near each other. The farthest recorded reassigned soulmates were four states away from each other. Almost everyone else was within the same state at least.

Logan had proposed morse code, the same way he and Patton had found each other, and the way they would occasionally send stupidly sappy quotes to one another on occasion. It must have been too late because the person wasn’t answering. He would have to try again sometimes tomorrow.

He heard a soft knock on his office door, and a few hushed whispers from somewhere farther in their shared house.

“Yes?” He called through the door, looking over as it slowly opened. It was only a little past midnight, but he still felt it to be inappropriate to talk any louder.

“Hey Lo? Me and the other two were wondering if you could join us in the kitchen to talk… again,” Patton said softly, leaning against the doorframe.

“The others and I,” Logan corrected, but nodded as he stood up, “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. My sleeping schedule is probably messed up at this point anyway.”

Patton smiled fondly, and turned to lead Logan back to the kitchen. Virgil and Roman were sitting across from each other at the table, bickering about something under their voices.

They both looked up when Logan walked in,

“Okay, so, now that we’re all here,” Patton started, clasping his hands together as he sat down. Logan pulled up a chair, spinning it so it was backwards. He loathed to sit in chairs normally, both he and Virgil seemed to share that small quirk. Roman simply splayed himself out on the nearest surface, and Patton tended to sit criss-cross on the floor more often than a chair.

Logan shook his head to snap himself out of his wandering thoughts, focusing back onto Patton.

“We’ve come to a decision, Logan, and I’m sorry you weren’t here a little earlier, but we didn’t want to bother your work.” Logan nodded, not at all perturbed by being left out of the conversation. In fact, he was happy they left him to his own devices for awhile. It’s not like he was out of the loop, they were having the conversation for a reason.

“And?” He asked, quirking his head to the side.

“-And we’ve come to the conclusion-”

“Patton, please stop sounding so serious, it’s unnerving, that’s Logan’s thing,” Virgil cut in, rolling his eyes fondly.

Patton snickered, but continued, “We think it would be best if you were the one to go find our new soulmate. Like you said earlier, meeting all of us at once might be too much for them, and you’re one the… er… easier of us to handle.”

“Roman would probably serenade them the moment he saw them,” Virgil teased, elbowing said soulmate.

“Excuse you, you’d scare them off with all that,” Roman gestured to Virgil’s outfit, “Edge.”

“I see. So when should I leave? I’ll have to call off work and do extra to catch up in my classes.”

“Sometime tomorrow would be good, Lo. I’m hoping to meet them by the end of the week. I really do think they’re close, if not in town.”

“I agree,” Roman nodded, and Virgil shifted and did so as well.

“Very well. I’ll leave around noon, then. I planned on continuing with the messages until I manage to get an answer, Perhaps they’ll tell me where they are. It shouldn’t be much harder than that.”

“Yeah! That sounds awesome,” Patton smiled, then suddenly squealed and flapped his hands, “Ooh I’m just so excited to meet them, my goodness-”

“I wonder what they will be like, I don’t think I could stand another emo in the group,” Roman joked, and Virgil swatted at them.

“Listen here Princey, you like my emo. Besides, your eyeliner was a hot mess before I showed you how to properly apply it, so you better thank this emo,” Virgil snapped playfully.

Logan watched them with a soft expression, standing up and stretching.

“We should all get some rest, then. Big day tomorrow,” Logan said, walking towards their room. The others nodded and moved to stand.

Big day, indeed.

-

-

Taglist in reblog

[derireo]

Wilting Lotus / CH. 5.1

The Two Fools

Omi and Izumi explore her abandoned apartment.

He decides to destroy a couple of things during the visit. Just for kicks.

「 Read on AO3 here 」 「 4.0k words 」

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．

"So they decided to shut it down because..?"

Izumi was staring up at the place that she used to call her apartment, but it was obvious that no one lived here anymore. The front lawn where a large sign used to sit was now overrun with weeds while the walls of the building looked like they were being swallowed up by invasive creeper plants. Omi's arm was still comfortably wrapped around her shoulders as they stayed put on the sidewalk, her head resting against his shoulder as she analysed the graffiti that ran along the walls.

The sound of Omi's tongue clicking was the only response Izumi was going to get given how silent the man was the rest of their way here. The lack of cooperation made her sigh in resignation and she decided not to ask anymore questions unless they were actually important. For the time being at least.

She just had to guess that Sakyo and Itaru didn't want this building anymore because she didn't live there anymore. Her conjecture probably wasn't that far off anyways.

Flinging Omi's arm from her shoulders, Izumi readjusted her outfit as she made her way inside the abandoned building, the toes of her boots kicking away the stray pebbles that rest on the ground.

The man who accompanied her pursed his lips at the sudden loss of warmth, but silently crinkled his nose as he reminded himself that she had just very rudely pushed him away. Slinging her bag over his shoulder, Omi's tongue poked the inside of his cheek as he followed right behind the wandering woman, his temper still pleasantly mellow.

"Ugh, stairs." Izumi moaned sadly when pressing the button to the elevator didn't work, hitting her head against the metal doors.

It wasn't too far, but she lived on the third floor.

Omi, irked by how fast she had given up already, offered his services.

"I can give you a ride," he started, "but it's gonna cost ya."

And as much as the offer was tempting, Izumi grimaced at the word 'cost' and shook her head with a barely friendly chuckle, her eyes totally not glaring up at Omi as they smiled at him. His own gaze was indifferent at the expression on her face, but the corner of his mouth curved upwards when he saw how annoyed she seemed to be.

"No thanks, Sweetheart. I"ll manage." Mocking him with the nickname Sakyo usually called her, Izumi briefly poked her tongue out at Omi. Her little feet immediately carried her in the direction of the stairs before the tall man could react and grab her or something, and she tried to keep her giggles quiet when the sound of his footsteps followed after her own.

Their shadows danced along the length of the walls as the old wood beneath their feet creaked under the weight of their bodies. The sound of wandering mice and other critters tapping along the floors and ceiling covered up the tired breaths of Izumi as Omi casually trailed behind her, eyes fixated on the strain of her calves.

But as strong as she was, her endurance fucking sucked.

"I'll carry you. Free o' charge."

"Oh thank fuck." Izumi sobbed at the new offer, her body twisting around once they finished the first flight of stairs. At this point, her knees felt weak and she was about to die from exhaustion so Omi saying he'd carry her was like a dream come true; she honestly didn't think her short legs were gonna make it.

With arms held wide open, Izumi waited to be lifted onto his shoulder again, only to be startled by the feeling of already familiar hands gripping onto her waist and hoisting her up into the air.

Her reflexes were barely fast enough when latching onto the man, her legs tightly curled around his waist while her arms looped around his neck as Omi made no other effort to hold onto her himself, his hands reaching out to grab the handrails so that they wouldn't fall down the stairs.

"I can definitely tell that you wouldn't care if I died." Izumi sighed, wistful almost. As much as she found herself physically attracted to this man she was touching, his personality was nearing the line of a total deal breaker.

Omi found it easy to agree with her statement as he focused on getting the both of them to the floor that Izumi used to live on, the pace of his breathing barely changing.

The silence he left Izumi in annoyed her to no end; having been so used to Itaru's ramblings and Sakyo's never ending sighing or growling. She also didn't want to admit that she enjoyed being spoiled with attention, but with Omi's indifference, and maybe even dislike, towards her, she was definitely weighing the pros and cons on throwing a little tantrum.

But no. She shook her head, much to Omi's agitation. She had to keep her cool. Losing her temper with Omi like this was obviously going to put her in a tight situation, and she wasn't willing to die by this fucker's hands.

"Frowning isn't a cute look on you." She said offhandedly, already getting bored having to stay quiet with her emotions while her chin hooked over his shoulder, the side of her head leaning against his just to make him a little more annoyed.

At this point, Omi wasn't planning on opening his mouth to shoot her with a retort. Izumi would probably hit him back with something even meaner to say, and then they would have to do a back and forth to see whose feelings would get hurt first.

And nobody really had time for that; plus, Omi just wanted this girl off.

"Here. Get down." The man heaved a sigh of relief when he saw the large number '3' on the wall at the top of the stairs and went to pry off the clingy monster from his body.

Izumi tutted when her feet met the floor, but didn't say anything else to Omi who was trying to brush off any dust or dirt she brought upon him (rude!) and opened the broken fire exit door that would lead them to the hallway where her home was. The circuit breaker was undoubtedly shut off from all those years ago so the only source of light was the sun rays coming in from the end of the hallway.

The silence that resided in the place that Izumi once called her home made it slightly eerie, but she willed herself not to be perturbed and started to venture down to find the door to her apartment room.

"Ugh.. It's so cold. I kinda wish they left the electricity on." Rubbing her hands against her arms, Izumi stopped in front of a door that had one of the numbers hanging off. Her lips pouted when she saw the broken door frame and the cracked door itself; probably in this condition due to her never giving Sakyo and Itaru the key before she left.

She nudged the door open with her foot and held onto her arms as she walked in to the near empty home, just a few things like her ratty old couch and a few wooden chairs left askew in the living room. And she didn't notice then, but it seemed like the table in Itaru's 'office' was actually her coffee table.

Reduce, reuse, recycle, huh?

"Should blame yourself for wearin' that outfit you got goin' on." Omi said as he ventured to her kitchen where a leaky faucet remained along with a few broken dishes left abandoned in the sink. If anything, Omi would have offered his jacket to her if she asked, but she didn't. So. That's kind of on her.

"I'll kill you." Her voice travelled from an area of the place that was probably her bedroom, and the empty threat left Omi chuckling to himself as he brushed his hand along a cracked cupboard, fingers catching onto the handle that would let him open the tiny cabinet. The man grimaced when the collected dust flew in front of his face and he waved it away with his free hand as he examined whatever was inside.

The cupboard mostly housed a unique array of shot glasses, showing how much of an alcoholic the girl was in the past, along with a small arrangement of porcelain plates and one single kiddie bowl.

A small wave of repulsion went through Omi when he took a closer look at a mug that caught his attention though, a curious hand reaching out to properly examine what was on the ceramic.

It was a personalised mug that seemed to have a not so hot picture of Izumi with her former boyfriend on it, their arms wrapped around each other.

With one of the worst choices of font, Papyrus, was a sentence that ran around the image.

I hope only love and happiness meet us hand-in-hand in the future.. Guo Dian.

Happy Graduation, Izumi.

This? In Papyrus? Out of all fonts? Omi didn't major in anything let alone graphic design, but just looking at this abomination told him that this bullshit was hideous as fuck. He was going to have to do something about this.

"Yo, Izumi-san." He called out.

"En..?" Poking her head from a doorway, the girl's eyes squinted at Omi who had the mug casually hanging from a long finger, eyebrows scrunched him as she tried to see what it was he was trying to tell her through his vague gestures. She only realised what he was holding in his hand when she remembered that there was only one or two mugs she owned as a new adult, and the only one that had a picture on it was the present that Guo Dian gave her on her convocation day.

"You ever tell 'im this the ugliest shit ya ever seen?"

"Uh.. I thought it was kinda cute at the time.." She trailed off, slightly embarrassed. Sure, it wasn't the prettiest thing to look at, but it's the thought that counts, right? Izumi treasured it for many years after receiving it, but she totally forgot about it once she left to go overseas. She didn't use it much anyways, considering how worn down and scratched all of her shot glasses were while the mug looked like it had been barely touched.

"Right, well," with an easy but powerful flick of his wrist, Omi lobbed the ceramic mug across the short length of the living room, leaving it to fly far enough to hit and smash the rest of an already broken window that lead to the outside of the building, "you thought wrong."

Wincing at the sound of the crash of the window and then the smash of the mug landing on concrete, Izumi quickly frowned at Omi before disappearing to her bedroom again to go back to doing what she was doing before he interrupted her. Whatever. She didn't like that mug anyways.

The lack of reaction was kind of disappointing to Omi, but he decided not to push her any further just in case the kitty actually had claws, using the leaking faucet to wash away any of the dust that managed to stick to his fingers as his nose wrinkled at the memory of initially witnessing the tragedy that was Izumi's only graduation present.

If it were him, he would have dumped his partner right then and there.

"Ugh.. Omi-san?" It was Izumi's turn to call out for him, not that it mattered to the man but he perked up at the helpless tone in her voice, already making the short trek to her bedroom before she could tell him what she needed help with.

She was surprised to see Omi standing in the doorway when she was going to walk out and drag him from the kitchen, but smiled gratefully when he was in her sights, hands shoved into his pockets.

"You good?" Eyeing the piece of plywood that Izumi was holding onto, Omi pursed his lips and took a single step forward to see how she was managing. The plywood looked a bit new, and considering that Sakyo and Itaru had been here once before told him that they were the ones who installed it.

They said they were having trouble opening something a while back, so it must have been something valuable hence the plywood screwed shut over the huge ass hole they made in the wall.

"Obviously not." Izumi grunted, fingers sore from pulling at the barrier for so long. "There was literally no reason for this."

Awkwardly bouncing on the balls of his feet, Omi continued to watch the girl struggle. Was she going to ask him to lend a hand or..?

"Please help me." She whined, removing her hands from the small crevice that helped her pull at the industrial wood. She brought her fingers up to her mouth and cutely placed soothing kisses to the parts that would undoubtedly bruise later, causing Omi's mouth to twist in disgust at the adorable display.

"Hm. Thought you were never gonna ask, Sweetheart." He smiled sarcastically to which Izumi reacted the same, both of them glaring at each other as Omi shrugged off his black denim jacket and tossed it to Izumi who hardly reacted fast enough to catch it. No one else would have put it past Omi to ignore the girl until she asked for assistance since he liked watching others struggle, but there was something about Izumi that made it all the more fun.

He had just met her today, and not that he'd admit it, but he was kind of enjoying himself right now.

"Hold it or wear it, don't care. An' quit lookin' at me like that." Omi sighed as Izumi crinkled her nose, the weight of his jacket making it difficult for her to hold in both hands. A slight grumble came from the girl once the man had turned away from her to pull a tactical switchblade from his back pocket, the matte carbon fibre attracting her attention.

Her eyebrows lifted, impressed by the slick blade, and took a step back to let Omi do whatever he was planning to do, arms casually slipping through the sleeves of his large jacket to keep herself warm. "You gonna somehow cut through the plywood with that?" She inquired while sitting down on her old bed, the sound of the creaking springs causing her to grimace and readjust her position on the hard mattress.

The half-hearted joke made Omi want to hit his head against the wall, but he didn't, instead bending to his knees to get a better look at the screws that were still managing to hold on. "I ain't that strong." He rolled his eyes to himself, hooking the blade into the divot of the first screw to get it loose and then worked on the next one in the other corner to get the top half disconnected from the wall. He worked quickly so that he wouldn't waste any more of their time, and without touching the other screws at the bottom dug his hand between the plywood and the wall to manually force it off.

The sound of wood splitting caused Izumi to stop zoning out, her body jolting at the sudden break.

"Yeah.." She grimaced again, seeing how the poor wood lay at his feet. "Not that strong.. I agree.."

Izumi sighed once she saw the huge hole that hid away the safe she only opened once, the dents in the metal clear as day to both her and Omi. Sakyo and Itaru could have done a better job at trying to open the safe, right? It was just a simple 4-digit code, but it looked like they couldn't even figure it out. There were a few scratches on some of the numbers that told Izumi that they focused on those, but they missed the mark.

They didn't get a single number right.

"The code was 3825.." Izumi mourned as she quickly went to kneel in front of the safe to drag her fingers along the dimples in the metal, not yet touching the keypad. Omi's eyebrows creased as he watched how her small hands poked out from the long sleeves of his jacket and crossed his arms over his chest, not really knowing why she would assume anyone would figure that out by themselves with no sort of clue from the owner.

"3825 for 'fuck' when you look at the letters.."  She explained not a second later, and it was at this point that Omi would have honestly preferred if she didn't say anything at all.

The urge to rip his jacket off her body out of anger was strong, but she unlocked the safe before he could make a move. Omi was left having to pretend he was only outstretching his hand to anxiously bite at his nails while Izumi gathered whatever was in the safe, the sigh that left her connecting to how Omi was feeling at this very moment.

"Didn't like 7448?" He muttered to himself when Izumi shuffled away from the safe to close it, the woman standing to her proper height as she turned her head to look at him with an innocent expression, eyes oddly sad for some reason.

"'Shit' wasn't as funny as 'fuck' at the time." She murmured gloomily, thumb brushing over the items that lay in her hand while Omi took a step to take a better look. His face contorted once more into an expression of disgust when he saw another photo of Izumi and Guo Dian together, along with a pair of amber kanzashi hair combs and a simple, black titanium ring.

"Top tier humour." He said, snatching away the photo that rest in her palm. The protest against him went ignored as Omi rummaged around in his pocket for something, his tongue poking out just the slightest bit as he dug deep to conjure a single match kept safe in a small plastic baggie from his trousers. "We're burnin' this shit."

"No! I look cute in that photo!" Izumi shot a hand out to try and reach for the picture that Omi took from her, but the man only held it above his head with a petulant frown, nose scrunched that she would even bother to try and save this forsaken piece of chemically sensitised paper.

The agitation was clear on Omi's face when Izumi's hand made contact with his chest as she tried to get closer to the photo, straining herself on her toes to at least brush her fingers along the edge of the item while her body leaned into him. Her struggle was genuine as she wheezed out a childish whine, but was quickly silenced when Omi's hand came down to roughly pat her cheek, an arm tucking around her waist to bring her back to the flat of her feet.

"I'll cut his half off then we burn it." He offered then pushed away the girl from him to keep their distance, brushing off the imaginary dust that she brought upon him. "Want you to explain why those are important though." He pointed at the traditional hair ornament and the ring being held tight in Izumi's hand. The amber resin glowed bright despite the dim lighting in the bedroom, and the ring glimmered just the slightest when the light from the window hit it as Izumi examined the accessories herself, lips pouted.

"I just told Itaru and Sakyo that these meant a lot to me," she sighed, not noticing Omi brandishing his switchblade again, "they're making it seem like they hold a different meaning though. I don't quite get it."

The smooth sound of his blade slicing through the photo made Izumi fall back into reality and she pressed her lips in a thin line when she noticed how he narrowly missed cutting her whole arm from the rest of the picture. She didn't say anything, but Omi knew how unimpressed she was with him when she put her hands on her hips; looking awfully cute (not his words) with how his denim jacket dwarfed her.

"Any special markings on 'em?" He murmured as he plucked the match he had from its baggie, taking a single step closer to the girl to reach out with the tiny thing. Before Izumi could react, Omi's wrist flicked in her direction to strike the match against his jacket that she still wore, a brief spark flying before the head lit up into a flame.

The action made her flinch in surprise, momentarily forgetting what his question was as her eyes darted back and forth between her sleeve and the match with widened eyes.

"H-How.."

"Cap gun powder, water, nail varnish." He didn't let her finish as he brought the match to Guo Dian's half of the photo, casually letting it burn in one hand as he motioned for Izumi with the other, telling her to hurry up and answer his question. The old scars on her body ached when her gaze didn't move from the flickering match and the melting picture, but willed herself to break away from the bright flame to avert her attention to the simple ring that Guo Dian had given to her as another present.

"Er.. Ah! There's a lotus emblem inside the ring.." She gasped in surprise, noticing the thin engraving that was touched up with gold. She then flipped the kanzashi combs in hands to see another set of lotus emblems in the top left corners, the black paint protected by a smooth coating of some type of varnish.

A deep intake of breath was heard coming from Omi as he finally dropped the ruined photo of Guo Dian along with the match, casually stepping on the flame with his white shoe to extinguish it before it could catch fire onto any of the rubble that was around. Stepping away, his foot revealed the burnt to a crisp sensitised paper and the dead match in the spot where the ex boyfriend's head used to be.

"'Kay. Good to know. We're done 'ere." The man mumbled as he tucked Izumi's half of the photo in his jacket pocket for the girl to hold onto, wrapping his large hand around the crook of Izumi's elbow to begin pulling her out the bedroom without giving her any time to look at anything else. "Let's go."

"Hey!" Izumi complained, unable to use any strength against Omi to make release her. She tried digging her heels into the floor to make the man let up, but Omi wasn't having it and pulled on her arm to make her stumble forward until she crashed into his side. Izumi groaned in agitation as her nose dug itself into his rib cage, but Omi was left unaffected, his arm moving to go back around her shoulders to escort her out of the abandoned apartment room.

"Can we at least go eat some food before we go back?" She put away the kanzashi in the same pocket Omi put her photo in and wore the black ring on her middle finger, squinting up at the man who was leading her down the hallway and towards the stairwell. "I didn't get to before I visited the office."

He shot a quick glance her way only for him to revert his gaze to the flight of stairs they were going to have to go back down, and made a move to grab Izumi firmly by the waist, hoisting her up into the air for a bridal carry, only to hear her complain again.

He was not going to let her slow them down by going into a corner to heave and catch her breath again. She went limp in Omi's arms just to spite him and make things harder, but his simple answer of 'no' made her shoot up to punch him in the shoulder.

"You're the worst."