#ah fuck i messed up the links should be fixed now

[mamadarama]

KNIGHTS PLAYLISTS WAHOO

tsukasa's playlist

leo's playlist

izumi's playlist

arashi's playlist

ritsu's playlist

[urhoneycombwitch]

U just haaaaad to go and make another eddie for me to be feral over didn’t you? I need to know everything about roommate eddie pls 🤲🏻

IM IN LOVE W HIM TOO. thank you for giving me the opportunity to speak on it bc I have an origin story for roommate!Eddie with nowhere to go… until now 😈 here’s my other blurb of him btw linking in case others wanna see!! 🫶

so in this nebulous roommates!au, I’m imagining you’re besties with Robin. Eddie is besties with Steve. and of course since Robin and Steve are Ultimate Besties (in every world. in every universe.) they plot to get their respective Others together somehow. like, you’re offbeat and fun and so is Eddie!! should work out great right?

wrong. u and Eddie just don’t hit it off. you think he’s too loud and brash and godforbid he gets more than one beer in him ‘cuz he’ll be pulling you to the dance floor or making his own and embarrassing the everloving shit out of you. and he thinks you need to loosen up and get out of your head, which he decides is his new job that he takes VERY seriously.

eventually Steve and Robin stop trying to force it and yours and Eddie’s relationship just turns into casual frenemies. (a la Harry Met Sally) like, ah yes, You Again. the best friend of my best friend’s best friend 😒 you’ll hang out casually at various house parties and bars but always with a buffer, otherwise you’ll be at each other’s necks with (mostly) playful arguments and hot debates.

and it seems CRAZY at first that you’re gonna live in the same space but holy shit rent is so expensive in the Big City where you all moved to and it mind as well be with someone you know. you’re really worried about the set up but Eddie turns out to be real responsible with monthly payments and has a general respect for shared spaces (his own room is a black hole and it baffles you that he manages to have so many successful one night stands in that hell pit but you’re never in there so who cares.) plus it helps to have a man around fr, to spook the landlord into doing his job 👹 and also to fix things! and to give you lifts to work! and share snack duty! you find a rhythm and it’s great.

the night that he falls for you tho? you’re at group karaoke 3-shots deep and pick a cheesy Beatles song just to piss him off. simpering over your shoulder while you croon into the microphone, giving him a one-man-show that you hope triggers an earworm and irritates for days to come 💖 but actually he’s gripping his beer for dear life on the nearby barstool getting hit with the sickening realization of being in love. like oh fuck, this is bad. I cannot be falling for my pal’s pal. whom I also live with. what a fucking mess.

the night you fall for him? a second date goes sideways and you have no one else to call but Eddie. he fully leaves the solo gig he was about to play because you sounded so upset over the phone (doesn’t tell u that, tho!) and he could be a total asshole about it when he picks you up on the street corner but he absolutely isn’t. chews out your date, tho, with a viciousness that both delights and scares you. makes you a proper meal at home and wraps a strong arm around you on the couch and watches your favorite romcom and laughs at all the parts you laugh at. and you’re pressed up all close, wheels spinning in ur brain, unknowingly going through the exact same thought process Eddie had about a month earlier. Oh No. He’s My Bestie. Whom I Live With. This Cannot Possibly End Well.

aaaaand that about brings us up to canon speed, thus far! you and Eddie date around and have sex in your shared apartment but NOT with each other and if sometimes you get off to the sounds he makes when he’s fucking someone else and if sometimes he gets off to the noises of you in the shower well … no one’s business 🙂‍↔️

like why are u even asking about something soooo personal. like Robin you don’t get it it’s not like that I just wanna be near him all the time. that’s normal and what friends do. no, Steve, you’re not listening, we look at each other’s nudes as buddies. sorry you don’t understand how friendships work 🙄

(Robin and Steve have to set up weekly debriefs to compare notes and make sure they’re not going fucking crazy)

[sports-on-sundays]

marc and reader breaking up bc of too many arguments and him being super sad

arguments / Marc Guiu / Part 2

Summary: Marc x female!reader - Marc is devastated because of the break up.

Warnings: implied depression, foul language, angst, mention of screaming, anxiety, mention of crying, angst, nausea

Requested?: Yeppers

Author's Note: Link to Part 1. There was another request that led up to this really nicely so I decided to just connect them as a part 1 & 2.

Marc Guiu stares up at the ceiling of his bedroom at two o'clock in the afternoon with the windows closed and the lights off, feeling like it's two o'clock in the morning.

You can't keep living like this, Marc. What's done is done. You said what you said. There's no way to fix it. Just move on.

But I can't.

I can't stop myself from loving her.

Pathetically enough- and Marc would admit in an instant that it is thoroughly pathetic- ever since that fateful day when she cut it off, his days have been a haze of football, sleeping, every so often forcing himself to eat and drink water, and doing what he's doing right now: letting the two sides of his thoughts argue with each other.

No one cares if you love her. She's done with you. You messed it up; it's your fault; oh well.

There's no way to fix it.

Just move on.

But no matter how much he tells himself, over and over, to just do that, it's like he can't.

It's like the picture of your lovely face is imprinted on the backs of his eyelids, so every time he blinks, every time he sleeps, you're there, looking like the angel you are, reminding him of how much he messed up.

"Ah!" he yells, tugging at his hair. "You idiot! You ruined it! Everything! She was the best thing that ever happened to you, and you fucking messed it up!

"You pathetic bastard! Get up and live your life! It's done! She's moved on and is probably happier than ever! Why are you letting her control you like this?"

On top of it all, he's been avoiding Gavi like the plague, knowing that you one hundred percent likely told him everything, all from your perspective, and knowing because of that, now Gavi probably hates his guts, too.

So, yeah. He's been avoiding Gavi and anyone close enough to him to have also heard. So Pedri is also off limits, and Ferran and João are iffy.

It's hard when he trains or plays with these guys nearly every day!

The only person he's told is Héctor, mostly just because he pried it out of Marc enough. He got annoying enough.

Ah, you idiot. Quit crying.

You're not going to let that girl ruin your life like this.

"Maybe he's not the only one who was in the wrong."

"What?" you ask, looking up at your best friend, Gavi. "What do you suppose I did wrong?" you ask, not too happy with this sudden statement from him.

Gavi shrugs. "I'm just saying, maybe you should've heard him out before it escalated so much. I don't know, though. What do I know?"

But you frown. "Probably nothing, but it still makes me think."

"Gee, thanks," he says, rolling his eyes.

"I honestly don't care, you know. It's fine. I don't want him back."

Gavi's lips purse as he says, "Then why do you bring him up every single conversation?"

You don't have an answer for this.

"Exactly," Gavi comments with a slight roll of the eyes. "Listen, I'm just saying- Marc isn't himself at all since you guys broke up. He's a shell of himself, and refuses to talk, honestly, anyone but Héctor, if he doesn't need to."

You frown. "I know, but..."

"All I'm saying is maybe he had a point."

"What does that mean?"

"It means if you're going to date someone, you've got to give stuff up for them. Including time and attention. And you were giving far more of that to me. I'm not saying you should get back with him; do what you want. But I am saying it's probably best to make amends, and not just let the last note of the symphony be screaming at each other, yeah?"

You lick your lips nervously. "I'll think about it."

Marc can see Héctor is staring at something behind his head, but before looking leans over to ask, "What is it?"

"Um," Héctor smiles nervously. "Y/n."

Immediately, Marc's eyes widen, reminding Héctor of a frightened rodent. "Please tell me you're joking."

Héctor gives a short shake of his head 'no.' "With Gavi and Pedri," he practically mouths.

Marc leans back, trying not to look easy to notice. Trying to look discreet. "Is it safer to leave or stay?"

"I reckon stay," Héctor responds.

Marc softly blows a raspberry, before looking down at his food. "My luck, I tell you," he murmurs.

"Sometime soon, you knew you'd run into her."

"I hoped not."

Héctor sighs. "I know."

Marc feels his anxiety rise when he watches you walk pass. Tossing your hair, with the sway in your step, confidence radiating off you.

He sinks his head down lower, nervously curling his napkin.

And then, as you're walking back, it's like something else takes control of his body, and he can't help himself but look up at you.

Your eyes meet.

Yours widen for a moment, and your steps begin to slow.

Marc is suddenly hit with a wave of nausea, and he says suddenly, "Héctor, let's get going now."

And you watch Marc and Héctor walk out, away from you, just like that.

But there was something strange in Marc's eyes.

Sorrow.

Loneliness.

Confusion.

Defeat.

But most of all, regret and guilt.

And seeing him like that makes you feel... strange.

You're not sure if you like it.

Shadows, passing in the night. Wind, come and gone. These mysterious concepts. A lonely boy and a confused girl.

Hands in his pockets, head down. It's become the natural stance for him. His hair has grown out and shadows his inky brown eyes. So many emotions that they're gone.

Imploded.

She holds her head up and flips her hair. Sharp tongue, quick remarks. Little glimmer when she winks. Confidence is key, but there's one thing that nags at her.

She wonders if it was all a mistake.

Their eyes meet on a dark street in the middle of a cool night, when neither of them should be out.

They both open their mouths to speak, but sound comes out of neither of them.

He reaches his hand out to her.

If he could fall into her arms, he would.

But the shadows shift, and she's gone. The wind carries her away. Like a secret not meant for his ears. Like a promise broken. Like glass that shattered but never made a sound.

Never hit the ground.

On a concrete wall, the side of a building, he writes with a Sharpie:

I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I still love you.

I need you to come back to me.

On a bathroom mirror, she writes in blood red lipstick:

Why can't I forgive him? Why can't I let him forgive me?

Why can't I let myself love him?

[buckyismybicycle]

CHAPTER 13 [AO3 Link]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers Rating: Explicit Tags/Warnings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurities, Body Image Issues, References to Depression/Anxiety/Eating Disorders/Alcohol Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Alternate Universe - No Powers/Hockey, Team Bonding, Slow Burn, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Top Bucky Barnes, Pining, Idiots in Love, Miscommunications, Requited Unrequited Love, Slight Jealousy

<< Previous Chapter | Series Masterpost | Overall Masterpost

Steve

The weather refuses to let up, but the show must go on, they say. He’s not even sure how the Philadelphia Flyers are going to make it into the city given all the flight cancellations, but they can’t go into a game without practice.

Steve might have been more bummed about going out in this horrendous snow if he wasn’t secretly just a little bit glad that he gets to see Bucky again. It should worry him that two days feels like two weeks, with this Bucky-shaped hole in his daily routines. He can’t remember ever feeling like this, and gets so lost in his daydreaming he nearly messes up said routine.

He washes his mug, sets it on the dish rack, and slings his bag over his shoulders to head downstairs, trying not to think about all the ways he could ruin what he and Bucky have. Trying not to think about Bucky with someone else.

Get a grip. They had agreed to this, and he knows he shouldn’t have, if he didn’t really mean it. He just thought he could handle it, but apparently, it’s not as easy as he thought it’d be.

Even though Bucky had given Steve the extra key to his apartment, Steve has never had to use it. The door’s always open for him, and he enters, comfortable as if it were his own space even though it isn’t.

“Hey,” Bucky greets him casually with a smile on his face as usual.

Steve forgets everything. Valeri who?

“Heya, Buck.” He thinks he manages to sound pretty normal. At least, Bucky doesn’t mention anything if he doesn’t.

“One sec,” Bucky mumbles, fighting with his hair even though he’s going to put a helmet on in less than an hour.

“What’d you get up to on our day off?” He feels like such a fraud, knowing perfectly well what Bucky had “been up to”.

“Oh shit!” Bucky blanches, looking a little horrified. “I totally forgot to text you back, didn’t I? Man, I had a message all typed out and everything. Sorry.”

“It’s all good,” Steve says easily, shrugging.

Bucky is like a tornado, fixing his hair and then his shirt, grabbing his bag and travel mug before picking up his keys to lock up. “I went for coffee with Val, you know the little one across the bookstore?”

Val. Steve forces a smile and tries not to analyze the quick and easy nickname as they get in the elevator. “Yeah.”

“And we just got talkin’, and then I remembered seeing something about a — fuck, do you know what a banya is?”

“Um.” Of course he does, he’d read the page off his search thoroughly. “Like a sauna thing, right?”

Bucky beams at him, looking like he’s proud of Steve for knowing. He should probably say something, but telling Bucky he’s not actually cultured enough to have known that and he’d only read up on it out of jealousy doesn’t feel like a good way to start the day. So, he keeps his mouth shut as they get off the lift.

“Yeah! More or less. Did me hella good, too,” Bucky grumbles, as if his muscles were protesting again, totally oblivious to Steve’s internal moral battle. “Did that flight right after the game not fuck you up?”

Steve laughs, and just like always, his spirits begin to rise just from merely being around Bucky. “I never said it didn’t.”

“You should really try it, I think you’d like it,” Bucky says. “What about you, what’d you get up to?”

Steve tries not to feel the bite when Bucky doesn’t say I’ll take you. “Nothing much, had some errands to do.”

Ah, yes. Using imaginary errands to make himself seem less pathetic, isn’t that a new low?

“Ew,” Bucky chirps too cheerfully. “Sorry you’re an adult now.”

“You’re one too!” Steve squawks. “…Sometimes.”

Bucky’s laugh could cure any ailment, Steve’s sure, because a small smile starts to form on his own face. Steve’s going to give himself whiplash.

Bucky

He doesn’t know what it is, but there’s something different about Steve today, even if it’s not obvious. He’d been quiet on the drive into practice, and even his skating looked a little off. Bucky would know, because he spends an inordinate amount of time watching Steve play.

He hopes it’s not because Steve thought that Bucky had been ignoring him yesterday.

On their way back to their building, he attempts to crack the shell. “So, any plans for Christmas?”

Steve looks surprised by the question, but it does make him all soft again. “Usually, Dugan tries to drag me into his family dinner. He thinks I’m a lonely orphan.”

“Hey, I’m the one with the Batmobile!” Bucky puts on a pout but he’s warmed by the thought that Steve is being looked after. He deserves the big family dinner, and all the gifts in the world, in Bucky’s opinion.

Steve chuckles as they park and hop out. “You should come. He’d take you right in, I bet. And you’d love his kids.”

“Nah,” Bucky says on instinct. “I don’t wanna impose. Besides, I’m a Christmas Grump, remember?”

Steve shoves his shoulder, playfully admonishing him. “Shut up.”

“Make me,” Bucky fires back, waggling his eyebrows.

—-

Bucky hadn’t paid any attention to holidays after he’d lost his family. They only served as reminders of his loss, of the unbearable feeling of being alone and missing out on traditions the Barnes family had built over the years.

He’s surprised when he gets cornered by Dum Dum in the showers after their devastating loss to Chicago, though he supposes he shouldn’t be. In fact, Bucky’s almost positive that Steve has spoken to Dugan after Bucky had asked him not to. He’s not sure if he’s touched or annoyed.

“Really, it’s okay, I –”

“Did I ask you if you were okay or did I ask you if you were allergic to anything?!” Dugan pins him with what he assumes is a stern look, though it loses some of its effect when Dugan’s got a tuft of shampoo bubbles on his head.

“Uh - um,” Bucky stutters, before he even has a chance to think of an excuse. “N…o?”

“Good. You better be prepared to play mini sticks until your knees bleed.”

Bucky doesn’t have a comeback, and Dum Dum goes back to whistling as he rinses his hair.

–

“Did you have Dum Dum bully me into Christmas dinner?” Bucky asks Steve as soon as they’re cleared of the locker room. It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate it, but he feels less than great about it even if he can’t explain why. Maybe it’s because he can’t stop thinking that it’s a pity-invite, that he’s the “new kid” they’re trying to make feel better or maybe it’s just so glaringly obvious that he doesn’t have anyone that he needs to be adopted for a night. In any of those circumstances, he feels pretty shitty about it.

“No!” Steve protests immediately, grimacing as they leave the arena, cold air nipping at him. He tugs his hat down further on his ears. “You told me not to, so I didn’t.”

On first instinct, Bucky doesn’t believe him. In the truck, he turns to look at Steve, and watches for any anxious tics, because he’s discovered that Steve is usually terrible at keeping secrets. His eyes don’t leave Steve’s face, narrowing as if investigating, and that’s when Steve glances over and has to do a double take.

“What? What’d I do?”

Bucky hates how adorable it is, when Steve genuinely looks confused with his big, sparkly eyes. Ugh.

“I don’t believe you.” He harrumphs as he puts his seatbelt on.

Instead of pulling out of the parking lot, Steve sits there a moment, and before Bucky can ask what the hold up is, Steve turns Bucky’s face with a finger under his chin. Their eyes meet and Bucky’s widen a bit at the closeness.

“I swear on my mother’s grave that I didn’t mention a thing to Dugan,” Steve says with a serious, steady voice. “If he asked you over for Christmas dinner, it came from him. He wants you there, Buck.”

It hadn’t been that serious. Bucky had mostly been kidding around, but then Steve just drops this? He’s speechless.

And his chin is still resting in Steve’s hold.

There’s just the middle console between, they’re close enough to kiss, but that’s not something they do outside of sex, no matter how easy it would be to just lean in one more inch. That’s all it would take.

With his feelings threatening to creep up, he does what he always does – he runs away, and changes the subject.

“So. Uh, what am I supposed to bring?”

Steve

They’re on their way to Nashville for a small road trip when he manages to catch Dugan when Bucky’s in the bathroom.

“Heard you invited Bucky to Christmas,” Steve says appreciatively. “That’s good of you.”

“Got a habit of taking in strays,” he jokes, giving Steve a clap on the back. “Besides, figure it’d give you more incentive to come too.”

Clint snorts on the other side of Dugan. Steve tries not to read into it, tries to talk himself down and convince himself that Dugan didn’t mean anything by it past the fact that they’re friends. He just kind of hates how right that statement is.

“Hey.”

Dugan laughs at his weak protest. “You know we look forward to it. The kids love you, and it’s fun. But I swear to God if I hear the missus talk about how tight your shirt is this year, I’ll make you sit in the corner.” Dugan points to his eyes, fingers in a V-shape before pointing at Steve in an I’m-watching-you gesture.

Steve gets a little pink, apologetic and also still reeling from the fact that he was so blessed to have teammates – friends – like Tim “Dum Dum” Dugan. Before he can say anything else, Bucky plops into the seat beside him.

“Oooooo,” he sings with a gleeful smile. “What are we doing to make Steve all embarrassed now?”

Dugan roars with laughter, and Steve wants to disappear into the floor.

—

It’s always rough to lose the first game on a road trip, and while some of the boys are watching movies or playing card games to unwind, Steve takes the moment to slip away.

He’d had the thought for a few days now, and figures it’s better to do his research. Pulling out his phone, he goes to his Favourites under contacts and selects the second name.

So what if Bucky had taken the top spot in the short time they’d known each other? He was just looking out for Bucky, that’s all.

“Romanoff speaking.”

“Natasha, hi,” Steve greets after her standard pick up.

“Steve. What can I do for you?”

“Ah, well, I’m sorry – I should’ve just texted or something. It’s not hockey related.”

“Oh?” It’s evident she’s curious, so Steve tries not to feel too embarrassed.

“I was wondering, um, if you could maybe just tell me a bit more about some Russian… Christmas traditions that you might know of, that aren’t… too imposing.”

“Already throwing parties for Nichushkin? Cute.”

Steve doesn’t correct her, because it’s easier to let her believe that. He’d read some of it online – the different date of celebration, the religious service – but then Natasha unknowingly gives him exactly what he’d been looking for.

“I’ll send you the address to a delicatessen, they’ll have it all.”

“Thanks, I really appreciate it,” Steve says truthfully. He makes a note in his phone – listing blini and angel wings under things to buy.

“You’re a good captain,” Natasha replies. “I’m heading into a meeting, but text me if you need anything else. Now go make me proud.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” Steve jokes.

—

They win the second game of their road trip against Winnipeg, but lose the last to Colorado. It’s another crushing defeat, but they make up for it the very next game when Colorado comes to Dallas this time. Steve’s always believed that playing in their own arena gave them a little extra luck. Whether it’s because the fans cheer louder or simply because it’s home turf, he’s always preferred playing at the American Airlines Center. Sometimes he thinks he spends more time here than at home.

The days of December just continue to fly by and before he knows it, Christmas is right around the corner. He spends all the time leading up to it trying to stop Bucky from fretting.

“Buck, you don’t have to bring anything,” Steve assures him for, quite possibly, the millionth time. “So if you do, no matter what it is, I’m sure they’ll love it either way.”

“That is of zero help to me.”

“What! You’re a great cook! Why do you think I don’t lift a finger to help ya? And I still think about that lasagna sometimes,” he says solemnly.

“See if I ever make you another one after all of this not helping me.”

“You wouldn’t,” Steve gasps dramatically.

—

  Christmas Day comes and when Steve knocks on Bucky’s door, he’s greeted by a large styrofoam box first, and Bucky second.

“What is that?”

“Cake!” Bucky sounds cheerful. “Dum Dum says his kids love cake.”

Steve eyes up the sizable box, and how it’s as high as Bucky’s torso when he goes to pick it up. “How big is this cake, Christ.”

Bucky chuckles, arms around his prize as Steve carries his own trays. He’s hopeful that Bucky will enjoy Natasha’s recommendations, though he’s never known Natasha to be wrong.

He knows that Bucky’s still at least a little anxious, given the fiddling with his jacket sleeve when they’re on their way.

“You know, I’m glad you’re coming,” Steve randomly blurts out. “His kids are very energetic. Can’t keep up with them.”

“Geez, way to sound like an old man there, Cap,” Bucky chuckles. “It’s been a while since I’ve been around kids. God, and they’re so young.” He pulls a face resembling worry.

“You’re gonna be great,” Steve protests. He’s confident in this fact because any time Bucky interacts with younger fans, Steve gets a little dopey watching him

Bucky gives a helpless little shrug, but Steve notices that he doesn’t hide, he doesn’t deny it, and he doesn’t shrink in on himself. It’s close to receiving a compliment, Steve thinks. The thought makes him warm inside.

—

“Here we go,” Steve warns as he rings the doorbell. They’re greeted by all four children barreling towards the door, despite Dugan’s booming voice telling them not to.

At first, Bucky’s eyes widen, as if overwhelmed, before Dugan wrangles his kids back into the house.

“Jesus, whaddya got in there, a whole damn Christmas tree?” Dugan asks, shaking his head as he ushers the both of them in.

“Bucky, this is my wife, Christina. Christina – JAGGER, DON’T TOUCH THAT – honey, this is Bucky.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Christina says with a smile, pulling Bucky into a hug and smacking a kiss on his cheek. “I’ve heard a ton about you. And Steve! I’m glad you could make it again, the kids have been asking all day.”

Steve blushes, and accepts his hug and kiss next. “Thanks for having me back.”

“Told you these two were obnoxious,” Dugan mutters as he picks up the youngest of his children. “This here is Caleb, hey, can you say hi, buddy?”

The child squirms, shy, and hides in Dugan’s shoulder. “Hi?.”

“Heya little guy,” Bucky answers easily, appearing unfazed by the reaction.

“Now you get all shy?” Dugan laughs, amused. “This is my new friend, Bucky. He’s Steve’s friend too, and you like Steve, don’t ya?”

The toddler nods, turning his face to look back at the two of them. “Bucket.”

Everyone immediately erupts into laughter, Bucky possibly loudest of them all, taking it in great stride. “Bucket – you know what? Yeah! Why not! Bucket it is.”

“Bucket!” Caleb echos.

As predicted, the kids adore Bucky.

Bucky

The anxiety melts away pretty quickly thanks to the barrage of children clambering for attention from the both of them. He doesn’t even get a second to doubt himself as they tug him by his fingers showing him the tree, their stockings, the kitchen and just about everything else in the house.

Landon tells him very proudly that he’s eleven, which means he’s the oldest. Bucky almost says I used to be an older brother, too. Brody tugs on his pants in an effort to get him to sit down on the couch.

“Brody’s eight,” Landon informs him proudly.

“Oh wow, you got three whole years on him?!”

“Yeah!”

Landon gives him a toothy smile, and starts showing off a science set he’d gotten that morning for Christmas.

Jagger, who Bucky thinks might be the most energetic of them all, even if he’s only six, is currently trying to climb Steve, and Bucky privately thinks about climbing Steve in a very different way.

[Image: Steve, in a white sweater, and Bucky in a plain navy shirt, looking in each other's direction]

He grins at Steve, who looks so stupidly cozy in his white cable knit sweater. It looks so soft – almost as soft as Steve, and it makes Bucky want to cuddle. The thought terrifies him, that he falls so quickly, so hard, and sometimes he doesn’t notice until it’s too late. It feels like jumping out of a plane without a parachute, the ground and trees coming at him faster than he has time to process.

Except he knows too well what it’s like when he finally hits the ground, and he won’t — can’t — let it happen again.

When they come to gather at the table for dinner, the spread is exceptional. For a moment, he completely forgets what he’s doing, eyes widening at the sheer amount of food.

“Honey, I think you broke him,” Dugan teases as he nudges Christina for her to get a look at Bucky.

She looks immensely proud, and kisses Dugan a quick kiss. They each take a spot at the head of the table and the kids climb all over the two players debating how to sit, before deciding to bracket them on each side of the table, setting Bucky and Steve across from each other.

“Are you comfortable with us saying grace before dinner?” Christina asks Bucky gently.

He’s never been asked that in his life, and his family was never overly religious, but he nods. Having never said grace, his knowledge comes from TV shows alone — he can’t fuck up saying one word at the end right? Surely, even he can manage that.

“The floor’s yours, beautiful,” Dugan announces with a smirk, reaching for Brody and Jagger’s hands on either side. Bucky can’t help but think how Jagger’s hand is so small in his, and holds it carefully, while his other hand is taken by Landon, who reaches for his mom.

Brody takes Steve’s hand, and lastly, Caleb completes the chain.

She closes her eyes and bows her head, the rest of the family following quickly.

“Right. Everyone… let’s think of all that we are grateful for.”

Bucky can’t help but look up across the table, where Steve does the same, without prompting and the world fades a little bit around them.

“Thank you for our health, our work, and our play.”

Bucky tries to look away, to pull himself back from the edge of the plane but it’s impossible.

“Thank you for the blessings of the food we eat and especially for this feast today.”

It’s a private, shared moment; an unspoken understanding or perhaps a declaration that neither of them can say out loud.

“Thank you for our home, our family and friends, especially for the presence of those gathered here.”

“Amen,” he whispers.

[ilyjohnb]

a/n: sorry this took so long! i think i actually like this one! in case anyone is interested, im posting this on my wattpad now! link on pinned post. **gif credit to @lydiaas**

requester: anon “ “Wiggle your fingers. I need to make sure it’s not broken.” maybe this with john b… but it does turn out to be broken and he needs surgery?”

summary: when Rafe Cameron is bothering you, John B doesn’t hesitate to hurt himself to help you

warnings: fighting and a broken arm, both of which are not graphically detailed

word count: 1138

You loved being a Pogue, except when one specific boy Kook ruined everything. Your parents were Kooks, and everyone expected you, Y/n Y/l/n to be one too. Life simply didn't work that way. You loved hanging with your 3 best friends and your boyfriend. But those 3 dumb kooks always tried to remind you of what you were supposed to be.

This particular instance happened at the annual Bonfire. JJ, Kiara, and Pope all had something better to do, which you didn’t blame them. The bonfire was like any other party that happened all year. John B was right by your side, kissing you and returning the glare Rafe Cameron was sending his way. Everything was going fine, until of course John B had to leave and do something. Rafe made his way over. You backed up as far as you could, but they eventually caught up.

“Hello, Y/n.”

You backed up to the point where you were out of sight from everyone at the bonfire. Which meant that nobody could see Rafe, which means they also couldn't see that you needed help.

“Where's your goons this time?”

“Don’t need them. Not when I have you, the Kook Princess.”

“I’m not a Kook.”

He stepped closer, too close. “I think that the weak-ass excuse of a boyfriend manipulated you into thinking that. You're a Kook. Same as me, same as Sarah, and same as everyone who lives on Figure 8, which you legally do. I think.” He gently smiled over in your direction, lcking his lips. “you need someone to help you remember that.”

“Oh is that right Rafe?” John B asked.

Rafe charged at him, knocking him over. John B got the first punch in by the time you made it over there to help him. Rafe managed to stand up, but you kicked Rafe in the back of his knees making him collapse.

“I think it’s best if you leave now, Rafe.” You seethed.

“You know I'm right, Y/n. Just think about it!” He shouted as he ran over to his car to leave.

You scoffed before running over to John B.

“John B I'm so sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault that some dumbass Kook felt the need to try and mack on you.”

You pouted. “Well, I’m still sorry.”

You leaned in and hugged him, so he leaned down for a kiss, but you felt his hand being held at an awkward angle.

“John B? Stick up your hands.” You saw him, his hand was stiff and his fingers were bent. “Did you mess up something in your hand?”

“Uh, probably.”

“Wiggle your fingers. I need to make sure it’s not broken.”

“Fuck, ow.” He tried, but ultimately couldn’t.

“We need to get you to a hospital bubs.”

“Why?”

“Since you can’t wiggle your fingers, it’s probably a break.”

You took him home first, grabbing him a shirt and an ice pack. You walked back to the car and helped him slip the shirt on, opening the door of the van for him so he could get back in.

“I’m supposed to be opening the door for you.” He pouted.

“You broke your hand for me, I think that’s enough chivalry for the night.”

After waiting for an hour, he was taken back and they x-rayed his hand while I sat and waited in the room. Eventually, he came back.

“How’d it go?”

“Great I think I aced it.”

“That’s not how it works, you know what? Good job babe.”

Right after, a man came in.

“Mr. Routledge?” He asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Hi I’m Doctor Jones,” He reached over and shook both of our hands.

“So it is indeed a break.”

“Nothing that a cast can’t fix, right doc?” John B tried to laugh but stopped when he saw the doctor didn’t look like he agreed with his statement.

“In most cases, yes. The problem with your arm,” He pulled up the X-ray and showed it to us. “Is that you’ve broken both of the bones. We'll put you in a splint for now, but you’ll need to come back in after your swelling goes down. Just fill in this paperwork and confirm that someone will pick you up, and we’ll get that scheduled for you.”

You helped him with the boring paperwork. He got his splint put on and then he was all set for the next three days when his surgery was.

“I don’t want surgery, y/n! I’m fine.” He grumbled.

“No, you’re not bubs. It’ll be okay. I’m dropping you off and then picking you up too.”

You sat in the waiting room for the last half-hour of the surgery. You had spent the time cleaning up a little so it wouldn’t be hard for John B to get around after he got home.

“Ms. Y/l/n?”

You looked up at the same doctor who went over the x-rays with you.

“Yes, I’m here for John Routledge. He had wrist surgery this morning.”

“Ah yes. The surgery went well and with no complications. If he leaves the splint on, and eventually the cast, and comes to his physical therapy after he’s done healing he should get full use of his arm again.”

“Thank you, Doctor. Am I allowed to see him?”

“Yes, he’s in room 210. It’s down the hall here on the left.” He pointed.

You nodded and took off to see John B. You honestly didn’t know what you were expecting. This was a little different than wisdom teeth removal surgery. You had absolutely no clue how he would be.

Post-surgery John B was tired. He was in the splint again as they waited for the swelling to recede after the surgery.

“Hi, Y/n.” He smiled up at you.

“How are you feeling, bubs?”

“Now that you’re here I feel perfect. Wanna know why?”

“Why?” You smiled, amused.

“Because you’re perfect. Excuse me, ma’am.”

The nurse who was writing something on his chart looked up at him, no sign of being annoyed was present on her face.

“My girlfriend is perfect, isn’t she?”

“John B!” You gently scolded. “You’re gonna embarrass me.”

“But you are and everyone needs to know that you are.” He pouted.

“Wait, shit. Don’t cry bubs. I’m sorry. Wanna go home and have ice cream?”

He nodded and you gently wiped away his tears with your thumbs. You quickly signed the discharge paperwork and then you were all set. You held the hand of his good arm as he was wheeled out of the hospital. You gently put him in the front seat and smiled over at him when you were both buckled in and ready to go.

John B was a keeper, and you were so glad to have someone like him in your life.

[b0rista]

i don't really know how tumblr reqs works but you write for marco right ?? 🤩 can you write some hcs for him 😟😟 ( sorry if I sound rude or dry 😭😭😭 )

— 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐎 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐓.

WARNINGS: language.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: NONFOGNO it wasn't rude or dry at all!! lowkey i got super excited reading this because LAWD i've been wanting to write some marco dating hcs 🥺 i love him way too much like this isn't healthy bye

"you don't get it— you had my heart before i was even given the chance to refuse."

without a doubt, marco's shirt was tailored with the utmost boyfriend material. this may anger some of y’all, but out of the men of the 104th, this man has to be one of the best when it comes to relationships. the epitome of perfection, dare i say. beautiful boy. 

there was probably a lot of pining going on before the two of you decided to get together, if we’re being honest. during your three years of cadet training, marco’s crush on you was absolutely and utterly hopeless. at least, that’s what he thought. the guys didn’t do much to help, either. instead of encouraging him, they teased him. after all, who the hell’s dumb enough to fall in love in a place like this? after all, you’re practically training for your own death. and while marco knew that, that didn’t make his feelings toward you any less intrusive. even while watching you swing from tree to tree during ODM training, he still caught himself gawking at your absolite effortless beauty, earning himself quite the scolding from his own conscious. hell, one time, you caught him staring at you during training, and he face planted into a tree. that time, it was commander shadis that gave him the scolding. which,, is always terrifying. 

before and during your guys’ relationship, marco’s love language is an endless amount of consolation. of course, this goes for everyone, but especially you. seeing you hopless is something that he doesn’t ever want to have to say, so with that being said, he does everything in his power to keep your spirits lifted. and if you’re ever down, he’ll know. you can’t hide your feelings from this man, he’s far too intuitive for his own good. and even if you’re fine, he’ll still go above and beyond with his words of affirmation. it’s who he is. 

during your trainee days, you spent a lot of time with him, jean, sasha, and connie. no matter the circumstances, that was your crowd. really, it was just a huddle of idiot teenagers half-assedly working to become soldiers. even so, they were the ones that got you through it. 

^ honestly, if it weren’t for marco’s constant encouragement, you likely would have quit the training to go work on the farmlands. whenever you tell him that, though, he sheepishly shuts you down, contradicting his own denial through the very thing that made you a shoulder.

“you’re giving me too much credit, y’know. i may have chipped in, but it was you that got you to where you are now. it always was, and it always will be.” 

yeah, this freckled bastard is your go-to therapist. half of the time, you don’t even go to him for help; he comes to you. it’s like he has this sense, or something- no matter how far apart the two of you are, he can feel whenever it is you’re unhappy. perhaps his intuition is just that good, or the two of you are simply soulmates, linked together through delicate intertwinement. quietly, marco believes the latter. back to the main topic of discussion, though. one of his main objectives is to solve whatever problems you may have, even if they have absolutely nothing to do with him. no matter the circumstances, it’s his duty to keep that sweet, soothing smile on your face. without it, his world is dull. 

love letters. yeah, that’s right. for his safety within the boy’s barracks, he’s asked that you keep them a secret,, but marco writes you one to two love letters a month. it isn’t a dramatic amount, and they aren’t all that lengthy, but they never fail to get you to swoon. he’s got a way with words, and when it comes to the likes of you, they’re as passionate as ever. really, he could go on and on about you, page after page, and never find himself getting bored. with every fiber of his being, he’s absolutely smitten over you.

of course, though, the letters don’t start making an appearance until after the two of you establish your relationship. which, as always, i’ll leave that up to you! however, it was probably some time during the end of your time as cadet trainees. after three whole years of helplessly pining for you, i can see him gathering enough courage to actually confess to you. with jean’s encouragement, of course (even though it was more like pRessurinG plspls). 

it can get a little overbearing at times, but marco likes to try and help you with everything and anything. you can’t quite reach that top shelf? don’t worry, he’s got you. struggling with your gear? alright, what’s the problem, he’ll fix it. you’re taking an extra moment to count horses, and he’s already rushing to lend a helping hand. at some point, you’ll have to communicate that although it’s sweet that he’s always trying to make things easier for you, he’ll have to give you the chance to actually learn a thing or do. once you do, he’ll take literally everything into consideration, and try his hardest to stop himself whenever there’s a possible learning exercise in your way. 

cheek kisses! an endless amount, at that. out of everywhere on your body, marco favors your cheeks, if he could, he’d pepper them in kisses all day long. unfortunately, though, he can’t, so he’ll stick to sneaking in little pecks in between every other hour of the day. the two of you live for those moments where he cups either side of your face, plants a sweet kiss onto your cheek, and rushed back to finish whatever it was he was meant to be doing. as expected, they always manage to leave you craving more. 

ah, jean. the third wheel you never fucking asked for. he’s such a pest, and marco refuses to get rid of him, literally ever. with that being said, he’s practically an honorary member of your guys’ relationship. the amount of times you and marco have been cozied up together on the sofa only to be very rudely interrupted by jean sLipping in between the two of you is ridiculous. you and your boyfriend have cancelled dates for this man, simply because he doesn’t want to be alone. typically, it’s jean giving marco the puppy dog eyes, and then in suite, marco giving you the puppy dog eyes, which you simply cannot resist. 

honestly, it’s nearly impossible to get this man jealous. you’ve tried, it should not be as difficult as it is. of course, i said nearly impossible. really, marco’s funny when he gets jelly. he isn’t overly edgy, or agGressive with you- he’s more,, chaotically conflicted. one night, you were feeling a bit more committed to the cause, so you mindlessly sat on reiner’s lap during dinner in the mess hall. marco, who was busy rough-housing with jean, choked. 

"iSTHATCOMFORTABLEORSOMETHING-"

reiner: 🧍‍♂️

during the quiet of the night, you enjoy tenderly kissing each and every one of his freckles you can see. starting with the ones dusted along his face, to his shoulders, to his arms, and so on. usually, marco's far too tired to fully react, but he's always softly smiling, silently admiring you while a hand tangles itself within the locks of your hair.

it's been confirmed that marco's a big brother, so that's definitely a thing. even if you've only been together for a short amount of time at this point, marco would want you to meet his family. after all, he's quite literally in love with you. why not start the formalities earlier than necessary? even if you don't make too good of an impression, he's sure that one day, his family will be one that you're apart of. he wouldn't have it any other way.

he's flustered easily. the smallest thing could happen, and he's red in the face, stumbling over his words, all of it. of course, you only find it endearing. rake your fingers through his hair while he's a blushing mess, you'll never get enough of it. beneath your touch, he crumbles.

one night, after a rougher session of training, you took hold of marco's busted and blistered knuckles, which had been dirtied on the field. while he thought nothing of it, you moved them to your lips, planting a sweet kiss along the bridge as a form of comfort. he absolutely melted, and it was the birth of a beautiful pattern. whenever his fists are battered, your kiss mends them right back together.

during chores, you and him tend to hum together in sync. it's a surprisingly pleasing harmony, and it's become a shared habit to make up silly melodies to hum to whenever you run out. and whenever you're in need of comfort, expect to hear him quietly humming one of the songs the two of you made up while softly rubbing your back. vice versa, as well.

one time, you raspberried his bare stomach. he's never felt so violated in his life. another time, he did the same to you, and the fact that you laughed? yeah, it's an often occurrence. raspberries are real in this relationship, bitch.

[queenlilith43]

Reasons Why Post Plus is a Terrible Idea

Tumblr has recently unveiled their new "Post Plus" feature. It allows people to put a paywall around their blogs, allowing them to charge up to $9.99 a month, with Tumblr taking a 5% cut of the creator's earnings. In this post, I will explain why this is a horrible idea.

@staff: You better listen up. I took a few hours away from my day for this. I had to have my friend Ashley help me with this, and that took time from her day too. (Thank you @patalliumapples) I'm explaining everything under the cut because this is long.

1. We Don't Have the Money

First of all, Tumblr is a social media site. This means in countries like the US, people as young as 13 can sign up and have an account. Most teenagers do not have the money to keep up with their favorite blogs for the low, low price of $9.99!

Second of all, a lot of adults on the site already are having trouble paying their bills, and don't have any content they would be willing to charge people on. As explained in this post, people are already struggling. (They also explain how to support creators better, which I will go onto later.) They don't have the money to spend on this. I, as a teenager myself, don't have enough money to spend to unlock Tumblr blogs. I don't know if I even can, I don't have a credit card or anything, and I don't want debt before I'm out of high school. Oh, and that leads me right next into the next point.

2. You could fix other things

Tumblr is called a Hellsite for many reasons, and how it breaks a lot is one of them. One problem are the Ray-Bans sunglasses bots that hack the site every so often. I have gotten one, Ashley has gotten three.

You can also barely even search on this website. Searching for tags brings up the randomest things. You can barely even search your own blog, this is how bad it is. Fixing those issues before we give you our credit card number would be a great thing.

3. People don't want it

The consensus so far is NO. In some cases, "FUCK NO" This is valid, people don't want it. We can't pay for it, and we really don't need it. Everyone hates it.

And you bet that the Tumblr-famous will try this out.

I, as of writing this, have 416 followers. I bet all of them would leave me if I tried to do a paid post. (Not like I can, I'm a broke teenager, but still.) That would limit the market.

And other people have expressed they would leave anyone who put their posts behind a paywall, such as in this newly-viral post.

4. Monetization of fanfic

Alright. *Cracks fingers* I get to show off my knowledge of copyright law.

Fair use that covers fanfiction does not cover having to pay for it. Monetization of fanfiction is not legal, and if someone tries, the original content creator can issue a DMCA takedown order. The person who posted and monetized the fanfiction will be forced to take down their post, hurting their earnings. This will affect Tumblr.

Also, as we saw recently with a Loki T-shirt on Etsy, big corporations are known for taking down anything they consider infringement, even if it falls under fair use. There was a scare a while back on Ao3 (Archive of Our Own) that Disney would take down their fanfiction, but Ao3 had a legal time that can fight for them. Tumblr probably does not, and would probably lose a legal battle against Disney.

In fact, Ao3 does not allow any sort of links to other monetizable websites, like Pateron and Ko-fi, on their platform to avoid potential legal trouble. It's included in their terms of service, which you can read here. I would recommend it, and to check out some other links. They explain legal issues quite well.

And as satirized in this post, trying to find posts on Tumblr for a DMCA takedown is pretty damn hard.

5. You can get around paying for a post through the reblogs.

Despite the fact that is something you're technically not supposed to do, people can just copy and paste the content. The fact is if anyone has a Post Plus post, you bet the entirety of Tumblr is going to get around that. After all "you can share a teaser of +Post Content through the reblog function on the Services" (From the Tumblr TOS)

6. We've had mirror sites that could probably get around the paywall

In the past, we have had many mirror sites. They are the exact mirror of our Tumblr, tracking everything right down to our reblogs. Last I heard they were all shut down, though Tumbex sounded like it was going to come back. If these mirror sites are smart enough, they would be another way around the paywall.

7. You can't block people who are paying for your content

This is a problem. People can harass you, and sometimes, this Hellsite won't take them off. The block button is an important tool. I, for one, currently have 11 people blocked for various reasons. Some of them were messing with me in the reblogs of a post (it wasn't even their place to do so) and I didn't think Tumblr would count this as harassment.

If you can't block people, and even with the risk of it hurting your earnings, it's not good. Even remotely.

8. There are other ways to support creators that are much better. 

As said in the very first reason, creators hate this Post Plus. They prefer being supported in other ways. People also don’t always want to be paid for the content (not even counting legal issues) And if they want to there are already platforms set up for them to use. For example, Pateron has tiers you can set up for membership, ranging up to $100. There, you know what you walked into. You’re not expecting free content, like on Tumblr, you’re building a relationship with the people in your community. Ko-fi lets people donate directly to their content creators, and won’t take any of their donations, unlike the 5% cut Tumblr is planning on taking. Both platforms also offer features that would not be available on Tumblr. Creators are also more likely to already have one of these set up, and keep Tumblr for their free content. 

9. Tumblr could make money through better ads

Tumblr ads are famously . . . what’s the word? Ah, yes, “batshit” is the word I’m looking for. I’ve gotten ads for tattoo aftercare, signs of heart disease (the picture provided was someone with their nails painted blue), maps of the USA, celebrities that has passed away, lists of bad cities in my state, graphics of chickens with Hindi (note: I am American), and apparently now I should be worried if my dog licks their paws. (?) As I went to check my dash while writing this post, I saw a small air cooler that was apparently more powerful than A/C being advertised. 

No one clicks on them except for a laugh, or if they accidentally thought it was something that was actually interesting. Most of the time, it is not. Tumblr could do something like Instagram and actually have good ads and make more money off of it. It may not be as much as they thought they were going to make, but it’s better than what they have now. (It’s a low bar.) 

10. This is the same website that spearheaded DashCon

You remember DashCon, don’t you? 

This seems to illustrate the website's stupidity in one picture and this is why you shouldn't trust us with money.

If you have any other reasons why this is bad reason, reblog the post with your reasons. I'd like to hear them, and don't forget to tag the staff.

There is a survey Tumblr wants you to fill out here, it's a step you can take. You can also listen to the protest @postplus-protest which should help. It starts August 6th, it's going to be a great time.

[votederpycausemufins]

I finally know how this thing is going to end, but it might go over 30 chapters. Whoops! This chapter could also be longer, but I wanted a bit of a cliffhanger.

@petrichormeraki @helleborusangel

“That isn’t fair! I found him so you have to keep up your end of the deal!” Grifter yelled at Death, but he barely reacted.

“That wasn’t the agreement.”

“The agreement was I was supposed to find out what happened to Theseus, and I did that! He kidnapped the wels version of his admin and revived Nightmare and it backfired. He screwed up and you wanted to know how he was doing, so I brought him here so he wouldn’t fucking die without you around. So, now you know what happened, how he’s doing, and I kept him safe. That’s like, three times what you wanted. Now uncurse my husband or you won’t be death anymore.”

Death glared at Grifter. “I thought you said you weren’t after that.”

“I said I wasn’t going to try and kill you for your power because now I have Sense, but if you cursed him so I can’t easily be around him, that’s gone. If you’re not planning to reverse the curse, then I’m going to get something out of it.” Grifter smiled at then pulled out a crossbow. “Now, you’re going to uncurse Sense, or you won’t be around much longer.”

“You still need to finish your end of the bargain.”

Grifter froze, his brain trying to comprehend what had been said before he growled in anger. “We just fucking covered I already did and more! I don’t need to do anything more!”

“Part of it was making sure Theseus was safe. You haven’t done that. He may have moved to a new dimension, but he refuses to officially unlink himself from Nightmare’s world. Nightmare, in his hubris, has decided to try and claim his wels dimension world in his current revived state. I don’t think I need to tell you what will happen if he fails, and at this point, he will.”

“So I need to keep the bastards alive, sure. Is that all?” Grifter sneered, crossing his arms.

“Not quite.I would prefer Nightmare dead, but no one will take his title, so Theseus will just try again with no one stopping him.” Death explained. “Listeners are quite powerful on their own and can link worlds, so you wouldn’t lose Sense, but I’m sure your kids would love to meet their family.”

Grifter rolled his eyes. “Like they would want to meet Wile and Euro. They’re only still alive since you keep them from dying. They’re too cowardly to do anything right.” Death glared at Grifter, who scoffed. “Fine, whatever. I guess they might like Fleur and Sadie. At the very least trying setting it up for me while I’m gone. I’m gonna be busy backing up the wels world before I do anything.”

“I can agree to that.”

“Oh, and can you pause the curse while I deal with Nightmare? It might be the only chance for us to do something so fun and I don’t want to miss out on that opportunity.”

Death glared before answering. “If you stop on your job, it’ll kill him, but sure, I can do that.”

“That’s great!” Grifter smiled, bouncing a little. “I’ll just make a little stop and then I’ll start! See you soon enough!” He started to walk off, but then paused to turn back to death slightly. “Oh, and remember to warn Euro. We don’t want him exploding again!”

.

.

.

The moment Grian was in the SMP, he started using his Watcher magic to look around. At the very least, it didn’t look like Grifter was around. It should have been obvious with his name not on the comms list, but if he had messed with the list before, he could have done it again. Fortunately that wasn’t the case.

Next he did what he could to find Grum, which was pretty easy. Grian already had a bit of tracking for Grum on his comm, and while before it wouldn’t have been enough to really help in another world, the fact that he could also track Watcher energy made it work. He was a little concerned that it felt weak, but he hadn’t really noticed it in the past, so likely Grum didn’t have much in the first place.

Either way, he knew where Grum was now, so he started flying that way. Grian wasn’t sure exactly what he would find there, so he got his sword ready for the worst case scenario. When he landed at the quartz mansion, he tried to be as quiet as possible. Peeking through a window, he couldn’t see anyone around, which was concerning. At least the demon should have still been there. This was his home, wasn’t it?

“Hey, what are we doing at the window?” someone spoke as they stood behind Grian, making the avian’s wings puff up before he whirled around and pointed the sword at. 

“Wil? Is that you?”

“Hi Xel! I haven’t seen you in ages. Though other than Phil and Techno, I haven’t really seen anyone for a while. I was sort of trapped in Te-” Wilbur started rambling before Grian clamped a hand over his mouth.

“I don’t need to hear all of that. Where is everyone?” Grian asked before slowly pulling his hand away.

“Right! Well Dream showed up again, though he’s a bit different. Dad went after him along with the others and they haven’t shown back up yet. Well, I mean, Tommy and Techno are still here.”

Grian looked at the building. “Techno’s here?! But Grum’s supposed to be here!”

“You mean the robot kid? He’s okay. I’ve barely seen him, even as a ghost.”

Grian didn’t bother to keep listening, moving into the house. Techno was supposed to be a great fighter, so the only upperhand Grian might get is taking him by surprise, which was pretty much all he had the last two times. But those two times might have been enough for the warrior to get his tells. That would make it risky and-

“I’m not his unc- did you just take a picture.”

“Yeah, say that again when I don’t have this photo.”

“Delete it before I make you delete it.”

“Whoops, too late. I already sent it to Tubbo! Maybe now you’ll be able to watch Michael.”

“Why would I want that?”

“Cause he’s a piglin too? And not like it’ll ruin your image now Technosoft.”

“Tommy…”

“Ah ah ah, you might wake Grum up!”

Grian slowly opened the door to find Tommy awake and chilling on his bed, just messing around with his comm. Techno was standing nearby with Grum asleep in his arms, plugged into the charger. Grian wanted to rush in, but his first thought was that if he did anything, it would be easy for Techno to do something to Grum.

“You think I would care about that?” Techno asked after rolling his eyes.

“Bitch, this kid might affectionately beat the anarchy out of you. You’re gonna be the favorite uncle whether you like it or not.”

Techno grumbled, but didn’t actively try to refute it, especially when Grum stirred slightly, snuggling up closer to the piglin. It made Grian hesitate. They had gone through a lot these past few days. And for Grum it had been around a month. While he wasn’t a fan of Grum being near Techno right now, he didn’t really want to disturb him while he looked so peaceful.

Tommy and Techno both looked up when Grian lightly knocked on the door. “Hey Tommy. How’d you get here before me?”

“Heeey Big G. Pretty sure Grum fixed whatever was wrong with me and that brought me here. He did the same for Wilbur and he’s outside.”

“He acts a bit more like Ghostbur did if you ask me.” Techno huffed, adjusting Grum in his arms.

Grian shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen him in ages. Did see him outside though.” He then sighed and looked to Techno. “You haven’t done anything to Grum, have you?”

Techno managed not to flinch when the eyes glaring at him glinted a dangerous purple color. “Of course not. I even helped him out earlier.” He answered, kicking Tommy when he whispered another ‘Technosoft’ at that. 

Grum whined a little when the piglin moved, and Grian took that as an opportunity to take Grum into his own arms. The bot stirred a little, but still stayed asleep, making Grian furrow his brows. “He’s asleep…”

“Yeah, and?” Techno asked, crossing his arms. He didn’t know what was so surprising about that, but next to him, Tommy did.

“Grum doesn’t sleep. Neither of the boys do. I mean not really. They have a sleep mode, but that’s not really like actual sleeping.” Grian explained. “Here… let me test something.” He checked Grum’s power reading before unplugging the bot. They all waited a few minutes in silence before Grian checked again, eyes widening. “He’s charging himself.”

“What the fuck?! Really?!” Tommy shouted, though not loud enough to wake Grum. “How did that happen?!”

Grian shrugged, almost at a loss for words. “I… I don’t know. I didn’t think something like this was possible. I mean… I’ll look into it more later… but now really isn’t the best time.”

“You know, I wonder if it’s got something to do with their hels versions. When I was still stuck over there with Grifter, he said their versions of the bots weren’t built.”

“How does-” “Fundy.” “Right, nevermind.” Techno huffed, finally pulling a chair over and sitting down. “Well I have no clue how that place works, so for all we know, that’s what did it.”

Grian shook his head. “No, I doubt it. Normally hels is affected by us, not the other way around. The Listeners developed after the Watchers, Helscraft has fewer seasons than us. Theseus wasn’t in Helscraft until a while after Tommy joined us.”

“Yeah, but they had their kids back when they were in their previous season.” Tommy piped up. “There was no way for them to make them after you build Grum and Jrum since Grifter was stuck in their season four. For all we know, it works both ways.” Grian rubbed his chin, thinking about it, but then he suddenly started looking around, wings flared out. 

“What’s wrong?” Techno piped up, but the most he got in terms of an answer was Grum being handed to him again. The bot stirred a bit more, actually waking up this time. Before anyone could say something more, the world shuddered and a wave of green light suddenly passed through them. “What was that?”

“World backup. Watchers will do that sometimes, but it’s never noticeable.” Grian quickly explained, drawing his weapon.

“Then why the fuck did we notice that?” Tommy asked, a bit concerned.

“Because.” Grian turned around, wings shifting colors. “Green magic is what Listeners use.”

The_Grifter joined the world

PerfectSense joined the world

.

.

.

Grifter pulled Sense in close to him before sending out a ring of lit tnt that exploded around them. It was powerful enough it made the ground shake and rumble which just made the Listener smile more. “Oh Seesee! Look over there! A castle! Let’s go over there!”

“That sounds good to me.” Sense replied, picking Grifter up bridal style and walking towards Pride Palace. He had a little trouble getting through the newly formed rubble, but before long they were at the gates. Someone in a crown and sunglasses tried to approach them, but Sense quickly pulled out a death ray and shot them with it.

They reached the throne room and Sense set Grifter down. The Listener ran over to the throne and stood on it, a giant smile on his face. “I’m king of the castle! I’m king of the castle! Oh! Do you think there’s one just like this in the hels world?”

Sense chuckled. “Probably not exactly like this. And that’s if it isn’t rubble.”

Grifter pouted and fell down onto the throne to sit. “I guess that’s true. Well, when we leave I can throw some puzzle blocks together for this place to bring it over. Then we can make some improvements.”

“Why not start with them now?” Sense asked, shrugging with a little smile, which Grifter matched with his own grin. Sense tossed an axe to Grifter, who turned the pink metal more of a viridian. “Now, I suppose I’ll have to find someplace to sit.”

“While I would love to offer you a lovely seat up here, the throne will unfortunately have to do. I need to make sure Nightmare comes here.” And Grifter got up, summoning a communicator made entirely out of magic. “But I’m sure he won’t want to waste time, so you won’t need to wait too long.”

Sense moved to stand behind Grifter, putting his head on the Listener’s shoulder and looking at the comm. “Hmm, looks like Tommy’s here. He was the other version of Theseus, right?”

“Oh yes he was. I’m sure Nightmare would be much more convinced if we had him with us. He wouldn’t want Theseus dying by proxy, now would he? And it’s not like he knows I need bitch boy alive.”

“Have I ever told you how hot you are when you scheme like this?”

“Mmm, tell me again.” Grifter leaned back before a noise from his comm made him look back. “Hmm, seems we have a slight change of plans. Looks like Grian’s trying to interfere. Can you hold down the fort while I make a mess of things?”

“Of course. Have fun my darling.” Sense replied before letting Grifter go, the Listener using magic to quickly shift back to looking exactly like Grian, even changing the appearance of his wings. Sense held out a bucket filled with water and lined with soul sand which Grifter tossed an enderpearl into. The scientist put the bucket next to the throne before sitting down on it, watching as Grifter created an exit for himself and flew off.

[imaginedhaven]

Reluctantly Rooming: Part Three

Link to Masterpost

This has been so much fun, and it’s just going to keep going! As always, I am accepting prompts for this in my ask box.

This addition to the series uses two prompts:

“The salad here is really good.” / “Do I look like a fucking rabbit?” 

and

“Why’d you hug him? You love him?”

 Enjoy!

~*~*~

Aelin grinned and sauntered over to her newest customer a few minutes into her shift. “Good evening,” she purred. “What brings you in tonight?”

Green eyes met hers, completely unamused at her antics. “Considering that you insisted I come in, I think you know very well why I’m here,” Rowan replied.

It was completely true, of course. The previous Sunday, Rowan had kept to his word and helped Aelin get her flat tire fixed. He had also immediately taken her to the nearest grocery store and carefully watched her select fruits and vegetables like a hawk eyeing its prey. Once they had gotten home he had immediately flown into a flurry of meal preparation, and soon Aelin’s entire half of the fridge was full of little glass containers of portioned snacks and meals while Aelin’s roommate was glaring from the counter.

She had mocked him for it endlessly, of course, but truth be told she was immensely grateful. And so she had insisted that he pick a night to come out to the bar, so she could get him a free meal and a drink in thanks. He had picked Friday, and now he was here in the place she spent so much of her week. When they had first started rooming together, and even just two weeks ago, it would’ve been strange and she probably would’ve swapped halves of the bar with Lysandra just to avoid him. Now, though, she felt a strange warmth at seeing him so clearly out of his depth for her sake.

“I’m kind of hoping you’ll trust me on the drink, but is there something in particular you want to eat?” she asked.

“You’re the one who works here,” he retorted. “Surely you have a recommendation, seeing how you chose to eat here most nights rather than just admit you can’t cook to save your own life.”

Where that jab would’ve started a real fight just a few weeks ago, now Aelin just gave him her sweetest smile. “The salad here is really good.”

Rowan lifted a single eyebrow. “Do I look like a rabbit to you?”

“Well, since you seem intent on turning me into a rabbit I thought I would offer,” she said, finally bursting into laughter.

Before Rowan could say anything else, a lilting high tenor sounded behind her. “Is there a problem here, Laena?”

Aelin only laughed harder, nearly doubling over as Rowan’s eyes widened. “Oh, don’t be an ass, you know everything’s fine,” she wheezed.

Beside her, a man with dark curls offered a hand to Rowan, who warily shook it. “I’m Sam,” he explained, “bar manager and old college friend.”

Rowan nodded, gaze flicking back over to Aelin. Laena? he mouthed.

Aelin rolled her eyes. “The nickname is short for Celaena. It was the name on my fake license when we met, and he’s never let me forget it. It helps here, sometimes, if someone’s being a little too pushy. Whoever it is walks out of here without my real name, so I let him get away with it.”

Sam chuckled. “I do what I can. But I’ve embarrassed you enough for now, I think.” And without another word he faded into the bustle of the room, where she knew he would be carefully overseeing the crowd.

“Sorry about that,” Aelin said to Rowan. “If I knew he was going to come over and be an ass, I’d have warned you.”

Rowan shook his head, but she could see the faint glimmer of a smile. “It’s good that you have someone looking out for you at work,” he replied.

She smiled back and got to work. Together, they decided on a burger she’d had before for his meal. “Do you trust me?” Aelin asked.

“As much as I feel like I’m going to regret this, go ahead,” he sighed.

Aelin grinned and gathered her ingredients, dropping a single cube of sugar into a glass and soaking it with a mix of bitters. “I’ve been thinking about what I’d serve you for a week,” she began. “I won’t lie, it was tempting to serve you straight amaro and nothing else just to watch your face. But all jokes about bitterness aside, I wasn’t going to actually be that mean.”

“I’m eternally grateful,” Rowan deadpanned.

“You should be,” she laughed, reaching for a muddler and crushing the cube down. “But none of the sweeter drinks seemed like you, either. If I had to guess, in your personal life you don’t mix drinks at all, you just drink your spirits straight.”

The guess earned her a nod. “Even that isn’t often, but when I do, you’re right.”

Aelin nodded as well, dropping a sphere of ice into the glass as well and then reaching for the bottle of rye she’d selected. “So I didn’t want to deviate too much from that and give you a glass that was basically full of sugar, but I wanted to take you just a little outside your comfort zone.” Deftly she added the alcohol to the glass and then began to stir. “That left me with a much shorter list. Spirit forward. Classic pairings. Something even a joyless buzzard like you can appreciate.”

The name had started as an insult, Aelin mused as she reached for an orange and deftly carved a strip of its peel away from the fruit. Now, though, it was… almost an endearment. If friends traded endearments, that was.

Rowan’s eyes widened as she reached for a match, expression turning wary. “What exactly are you doing?” he asked.

Aelin grinned. “Helping you live a little,” she said as she struck the match and held the peel to the flame.

The smell of caramelization and warm orange oil reached her nose soon enough, and she blew out the match and set it aside before gently twisting the peel over the top of the now-completed drink and rested it on the rim of the glass. With a smirk, she slid the glass across the bar and watched as her roommate looked it over. “What is this?”

“If I told you, you’d think I was making fun of you,” she laughed. “So we’ll call it a ‘Trust Me, Rowan’ instead.”

The remark earned her another roll of those pine-green eyes, but he obediently lifted the glass, swirling its contents gently and inhaling delicately. “I wouldn’t have thought scorching the orange peel would change its scent so much,” he remarked.

Aelin grinned. “And that’s why I’m behind the bar and you’re in front of it. Go on, try it.”

As she watched, he carefully lifted the glass to his lips and took a small sip. She bit her lip, doing her best to wait out his reaction as his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Finally he let out a pleased hum, and she could no longer contain her smile. “All right,” he said. “If I admit that I like this, will you tell me what it’s called? Or did you just make it up?”

Aelin tugged on a stray strand of hair as she bit back a laugh. “I didn’t invent this, no,” she said. “It’s been around for a while.”

“And?”

She glanced at him again and finally lost the battle with her mirth, leaning heavily on the bar as she broke into a fit of giggles. “It’s called an old fashioned,” she wheezed as Rowan rolled his eyes and grumbled into his drink.

~*~*~

Rowan left about an hour after that, but Aelin was still laughing about it with Lysandra as they worked to wipe the bar clean after closing. Suddenly a pair of arms wrapped around her from behind, and she laughed and turned, tossing her rag into Sam’s face. “Haven’t you caused enough trouble today?” she teased.

“Not quite enough yet,” he grinned. “So why’d you hug him? You love him or something?”

Aelin laughed as she remembered back to Rowan leaving the bar. He’d obviously intended to slip away without calling attention to his departure, but she had noticed him and chased him down to give him a giant hug and a smacking kiss on his cheek. He had growled and immediately gone to wipe his face off, tossing her a glare that once would’ve left her shaking in her boots. Now, though, she had simply laughed and told him it was revenge for him trying to sneak away. “No,” she finally said as she turned her attention back to Sam. “No, that’s my roommate. We’re trying out this new thing where we actually get along.”

“Oh, so this is the roommate from hell we’ve been hearing so much about,” Lysandra chimed in. “You didn’t say he was hot.”

“I feel like that wasn’t relevant to what I was telling you,” Aelin pointed out. “Hot people can be jerks just as much as the rest of us.”

“She says as though the three of us aren’t hot,” Sam laughed.

“He’s got a point,” Lysandra agreed, green eyes bright with mirth as well. “But anyway, we’ve got a mess to clean up here. We can sort out Aelin’s future domestic bliss later.”

Aelin scowled as her two friends laughed. “I wouldn’t go that far,” she cautioned them.

“Ah, but if we don’t, who will?” asked Sam.

“You’re assholes and I hate you both,” Aelin said with no heat in her voice.

“Oh, come on, you love us,” Lysandra grinned. “Sam, what can you do about all three of us having the same day off sometime soon?”

“You know I don’t control the schedule,” he sighed, but his brown eyes were glimmering with amusement. “That said, we all have this coming Sunday off. Why, do you have a plan?”

“I’ve always got a plan,” she replied. “But in this case, I suppose I can extend my plans to include the two of you.”

“This is all well and good,” Aelin drawled, “but at least one of us would like to sleep at some point tonight.”

“You just want to get home to that roommate of yours,” Lysandra retorted.

“Oh, would you—”

Aelin’s words cut off with a yelp. She had been turning to face Lysandra, but suddenly her ankle buckled and she hit the floor with a cry and the sound of something cracking.

~*~*~

If anyone has questions about any of the mixology involved in this, I am of course happy to answer to the best of my ability! I don’t do it professionally, but in this quarantine it has become an... extensive and somewhat expensive hobby. Yikes. Lol.

Tagging:

@ireallyshouldsleeprn @queen-of-glass @fangirlprincess09 @sassys-world @morganofthewildfire @superspiritfestival @perseusannabeth @sis-it-dont-add-up @jlinez @julemmaes @emilyoftheshadows

[hyrule-kingdom-updates]

hK—OW I CAN’T BREATHE—

YOU’RE STUPID, YOU KNOW THAT? YOU’RE COMPLETLY DENSE AND SENSELESS. “I’ll just leave,” you really have lost your mind! That is the eact opposite of what needs to happen!

L-Launo, I’ve ruined more things than you know...

And I don’t care!

Wouldn’t that make you feel better? I wouldn’t be around to ruin you, or Aryll, or Link. At least, not any further...

HK—SERIOUSLY, I’M STILL NOT COMPLETLY RECOVERED—

You listen to me now, and you listen well, Arcadius. There is nothing in the world that could stop me from caring about you. My love will always be more reckless than your predictable walls.  

Everything is a mess, and we’re...we’re all wallowing in a bit of crap, yes that’s true. And of course I wish that I had known about everything sooner, and that I knew the proper answers for everything, so that maybe we might’ve been able to properly deal with things in better circimstances...

But this whole mess isn’t because you’re a problem or a burden. You don’t ruin everything, you just..everyone makes choices and decisions and have habits that need help is all. But that’s not everything you are. You’re more than your faults, Arcadius. You’re more than your stupid, stupid fricking faults, and your dumb f-fucking idea that the first flaw or first sign of trouble means it’s time to give up and leave! 

How do you know that? Huh? How would you know? For all you know, there’s nothing in me, that everything about me isn’t real, that I’m just a...a-a pitiable piece of shit with no redeeming qualities? I don’t want to be some little puzzle to be fixed and solved...cause i-if you do, that’s when we’ll all realize there was nothing there worth our time. There’s nothing that I own, it’s all just...amalgamations of...the tolerable parts of the worst. 

...But you’re not Arcadius, I don’t believe that. I truly don’t.

Well I don’t. And since it’s me we’re talking about, I think I get first say—

Ah yes, just like how we let the Igneo Talus get first say in how to put out the fire.

Launo, you’re not thinking straight—

Of course I’m not! This is us we’re talking about. I should hope any heterosexuality be gone from the equation.

I’m—Aha...heh......you....t-this is a serious conversation—

This conversation about you leaving? I’m not gonna take that seriously, no. I’m not gonna let you think that’s even worth arguing about. 

But—

But nothing. You might not believe you’re worthwhile, but I do. And hell if I got enough in me to believe for the both of us, and more. 

... ...You just don’t understand.

And I won’t pretend to. I’m not asking you to flip everything in one night, and I acted brashly when trying to find out everything, I’ll admit. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to—

I don’t want to be here.

No. You think I don’t want you here, and that’s a lie. You’re being contridictory now, you see? You were just spouting about how you loved being with me, with your family.

...

You don’t need to run away. You shouldn’t. Cause I......Arcadius...we’re......Hylia, what are the words...

...

[anika-ann]

Attached: Words Lost in Translation Pt.1

Type: (mini)-series,  Modern-college-professor AU… aka the wrong attachment AU ;)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 4200

Summary: There’s a new guy in your history class – a foreign student from Milan, Italy. Handsome, nice enough, pretty smart, actually.

But dammit, you should have known that a guy complimenting the way you say his name will be trouble – Bucky certainly thinks so from the start… and he’s not wrong. Oh boy.

A/N: Attached: Words Lost in Translation is a 3-part addition to the Attached series.

A/N: Many thanks to my lord and saviour @chase-your-dreams-away​ for her help with Italian bits which you’ll find in the fic :-* Seriously, big shout-out for her, she was awesome! Vocabulary at the end if you’re interested.

And many thanks to @wxstedhexrt​ for sending me the link and putting the plot bunny into my head in the first place :-* 

Warnings: smug insistent jerk, harassment(?), swearing, one remark about LBGT+ that could feel insensitive

Story masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

“Uhm… hi. Can I sit here? And uh—this is kinda ridiculous, but could I borrow a pen?”

A very much handsome young man was standing by your seat in the second row, week two of your first semester of master’s at uni, deep brown eyes, naturally tanned skin, relatively tall, his smile a fraction shy but honest.

What else could you have done that what you did?

Even if he wasn’t a relatively cute guy – mind you, you were dating Steve, very happily needless to say – you had no reason to be a bitch to a guy with slight accent you weren’t sure where to place, to a guy who was apparently a tiny bit lost on his first day at Bucky’s class.

“Yeah, sure. Seat all yours,” you smiled encouragingly, sliding him an extra pen on surface of the desk.

His smile widened brilliantly, exposing a set of perfectly narrow and white teeth. A twinkle appeared in his eye and you caught your heart skipping a beat.

Oh. Ah-oh.

“Thank you so much. Something tells me that the prof wouldn’t appreciate me missing the first class of his and not taking notes on the second,” your mystery student grimaced and you chuckled, unable to help yourself.

First of all, yeah, kinda on point.

Second of all, not on point at all, because the said prof was Professor James Barnes. Bucky had a relatively benevolent policy when it came to his classes – yes, he appreciated when his students were paying attention, interacting even, but as long as you weren’t an ass or weren’t making noise (or both), you were fine.

You said so to your new classmate and he nodded in acknowledgement.

“Good to know… but you know what would be even better?” he asked, cocking his head to side curiously – or teasingly, it was hard to tell.

“Oh, what? I guess you need the syllabus too, right? I can-“

A low chuckle erupted from his throat, his eyes glimmering with amusement as his gaze gave you a not-exactly-subtle once-over you weren’t sure how you felt about.

Except you knew exactly how you felt about it, you just knew you shouldn’t feel that way.

“That would probably come in handy too, but I’d rather know the name of my lovely saviour with a pretty smile.”

You found yourself lowering your gaze, heat rising to your cheeks.

Here was a thing – this was most flirting you got in like a year. You adored Steve, you truly did, from the bottom of your heart, he was a dream come true… however, the fact that you two were dating was clear to everyone.

And by everyone, you really meant everyone; considering the scene at your bachelor graduation and the mess around, it appeared that the whole damn city accepted the fact that you were Steve’s and thus no one even considered stepping on his toes.

Which was alright, absolutely, but… girl’s got needs, her ego craves a boost from time to time, even if it’s an appreciative glance from a stranger. Just a teeny-tiny bit of flirting.

No one ever flirted with you anymore.

It was why it was way too easy to fall into the sweet trap as you introduced yourself, lifting you gaze only to see your companion wearing a lop-sided smile. He most definitely liked what he saw.

“Sweet name for a sweet girl. I’m Daniel. I’m here for two semesters. And before you ask, it’s Milano, Italy,” he added quickly with a flash of his teeth again, holding out his hand – and upon having it accepted, he most certainly held it too long and swept his thumb over the back of your hand.

Which was the point when your head started yelling at you to stop this in an instant and draw a line. Yes, it felt amazing to be complimented to, but you had a boyfriend – a fucking dreamy one, no less – and you sure as hell didn’t want to give Daniel (how was his name pronounced again?) the wrong impression.

You retreated your hand with your smile turning tight-lipped, a cold pang of guilt stabbing you in your gut. Served you right.

“Nice to meet you, Daniel,” you said politely, and his expression shifted into one just a fraction patronizing.

“Da-ni­-el. Kinda soft ‘i’. Daniel. You’ll get a hang of it, I’m sure. Once more, please?”

Well, since he said please. “Da-ni-el,” you repeated more from a common curtesy, because honestly, the least you could do was to try to pronounce a name right for a handsome classmate.

Shush it, it doesn’t matter if he’s handsome or not!

Daniel smiled widely, turning his palms up and gesturing towards you. “Perfetto. Amazing. You’re a natural.”

Before you could say thanks, Bucky entered the class and you felt the stab in your insides intensify as his eyes found you unmistakably, as if he had witnessed our interaction with the Italian and was telling you he’d rat you out to Steve if you didn’t stop right now.

Ridiculous – there was nothing to talk about. You were just being nice to the friendly stranger who happened to be in your class and whom you’d be meeting for at least a semester. That was all.

Except you still felt your heart pounding furiously, equally because of the feeling of getting caught doing something wrong and because of enjoying the attention. Fuck.

Okay, fine. You’d tell Steve about this guy on your own as a precaution. It would at least remind you to keep yourself in check, because honestly, you had no desire to get tangled up in some mess. You had no desire to taint the beautiful thing you had with Steve with anything at all, less so for a fling.

Content with yourself, you forced yourself to listen to Bucky’s lecture, taking notes like you were supposed to, determined to ignore Daniel’s presence.

Except Daniel interrupted him twice with questions and remarks about accuracy, drawing attention of the whole class to him and you felt hot in your face for a whole different reason than before – simply hating that someone sitting next to you was, frankly, quickly getting annoying.

And God, you had no idea how much.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Daniel Gallo was a relatively nice guy –social perhaps a little too much, but cute and open, easy to be friends with.

However, he had one fatal flaw, one you discovered very early on; he was the smuggest asshole you had ever met.

Perhaps it was his need to correct Bucky all the time – mostly failing, because Bucky knew his shit, he was just sparing you the tinniest details, leaving them for you to find in text books.

Maybe it was the fact that Daniel hadn’t given you the pen back, not even asking if he could keep it for the day, which you’d understand despite being protective of your pens; except he carried it around for two weeks, using it in front of you, returning it only upon your curious and slightly sarcastic comment about it.

Most definitely though, it was the fact that he was unbearably insistent on flirting with you – shamelessly – even after you grew so uncomfortable that you blatantly told him you had a boyfriend. He smirked, but backed off for the day, only to continue his advances the next week.

And then Jill, a girl from your year and a sort-of-friend, actually told you that he mentioned you in front of her, saying that you were two growing rather close, if she knew what he meant, and she admitted that she snorted into her latté when hearing it.

“What? What is it?” he had asked.

“I sincerely doubt that,” she claimed she had said, causing him to frown.

“Why? She gay? I don’t think so, I can tell this kind of stuff.”

“No. She’s taken. Very happily, I might add. Sorry to burst your bubble.”

“Nah. We’ll see about that,” he had replied supposedly and learning that felt like a punch to your stomach, causing you to see red.

You showed him ignorance incarnate the next week, but he didn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

And then even Bucky noticed and kept casting dirty glares at you both as if you had done the worst crime.

To be honest, after that you did feel dirty; but you didn’t want to make a fuss.

In fact, you hadn’t even told Steve about Daniel besides informing him about the existence of a foreign student in your class.

Partly, shame was to blamed, because you kept wondering if you had done enough; perhaps you should have been more radical, sterner with Daniel to make him stop.

The other part of the reason was that Steve was under tons of pressure because of his academic duties; all professors had to publish an article in a prestige journals dedicated to their area of expertise at least once in two years – university policy – and working on that while teaching several classes was simply taking its toll on him. You really didn’t want to add to his stress.

It wasn’t even a big deal – Daniel was overly social and he probably said shit like the stuff you learned from Jill about other girls too. What was the golden rule? When there’s nothing broken, don’t fix it.

There was nothing. No problem at all.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Except there was.

That morning, you were zoned out, because Steve snapped at you for not doing the dishes and didn’t bother to apologize till you left the apartment in a foul mood. Then he went to shower you with texts full of apologies, gradually growing into pure cutesy (involving a picture of his puppy eyes) and gifs and stuff and you ended up spending the majority of Bucky’s lecture on your phone.

By Bucky’s policy, that was perfectly okay, because he couldn’t care less if you were smiling like a loon into your phone – hell, if he noticed, he was probably glad, knowing shit had rained down and was now being fixed.

At the end of the class, Daniel graciously offered you his neat notes – and really, they looked amazing –, surprising you rather pleasantly.

“Oh… that’s… that’s very kind of you,” you stuttered, almost rendered speechless. Perhaps you truly were just making a big deal of things, seeing something that wasn’t-

“Anything for my principessa.“

The cloud that had been following you since you left the apartment made its comeback in a second, so fast that you actually felt your stomach drop to your feet.

Oh no, you were not imagining things – after all, Daniel even had a term of fucking endearment for you. And you might not be speaking Italian, but you understood that just fine.

“Perhaps one day she’ll repay me with a dinner date,” he continued with a supposedly charming smile, one you found disgusting at the moment.

You opened your mouth and swiftly closed it when no sound came out, scoffing at your naivety. Of course he wouldn’t give them for free, jackass. You shook your head with a wry smile and packed your untouched pencil case and papers, rising to your feet without another word.

A hand on your wrist stopped you from spinning on your heel and walking away.

“Aspetta, aspetta-” an all-to-familiar voice now whispered as you grinded your teeth and glared at the point of contact, skin on skin. He squeezed your wrist almost gently before letting go. “Wait. Here. Just… take a picture, okay? Where would we be if weren’t nice from time to time…”

You really didn’t want to give him the satisfaction… but you could really use his notes too.

Dammit shit.

“Thank you,” you uttered, obediently taking a photo of the three pages of ridiculously perfect notes. Then, you met his gaze, face torn between stern and grateful. “Just… a reminder: I have a boyfriend.”

Slow smile spread on his lips and in that moment, you wanted to punch him in those perfect teeth of his. “Doesn’t stand in the way of admiring your beauty, does it, la mia ragazza…”

You had no clue what he said, but the la mia hinted you that he called you something his and that sent a surge of white-hot anger through your veins, mixing with humiliation. Your hand actually curled up in a fist, twitching – but instead of giving your piling anger an outlet, you took a deep breath, huffed and stalked away without a word of goodbye.

“See you next week!” Daniel called after you and you gripped the strap of your backpack tighter, squeezing your eyes shut.

That night, you got next to zero sleep, watching Steve’s passed-out form with tears in your eyes.

It was ridiculous, it was nothing and you were doing nothing wrong-- but you couldn’t make yourself to cuddle to Steve’s side despite desperately needing his wordless affirmation that everything was alright.

Just a simple embrace of his was like a promise of a brighter future. With him.

Chuckling wryly into your palm, you wiped at your tears and snuggled to Steve, causing him to stir and hum, his arm circling around you on instinct, a barely-there sloppy kiss to your hair chasing more tears into your eyes along with a watery smile gracing your lips.

Yeah. Everything was going to be fine.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Nothing was fine.

Daniel was getting handsy if you could call it that. His thigh brushed yours multiple times the next class as he was sitting uncomfortably close and no amount of subtle pushing away (of you and your chair) was helping, so no, there could have been nothing coincidental about that.

You dug your nails into your palm and bit your cheek, but survived the lesson somehow.

Bucky called for you at the end of the class, saving you further interaction with that Italian Satan, allowing you to breathe freely until he addressed the very problem your head was occupied with.

Bucky didn’t like Daniel’s attitude to begin with – which wasn’t surprising, seeing as he was being a prick – but he liked the fact Daniel seemed to be awfully close to you even less if his tone was anything to go by and his eyes screamed accusations and you fucking hated yourself, feeling the tell-tale of incoming tears burning in your eyes.

“I can talk to him, you know. Tell him to back off,” he offered then though, the grey with blue threads of his irises warming when he noticed your state.

The pressure in your gut eased upon learning Steve’s best friend didn’t only blame you and apparently wanted to help rather than presenting you with ‘you made your bed you lie in it’ attitude.

You even charmed a small smile for him, determined to do justice to your word: “Thank you… it’s fine. I’ll deal with him. I can handle one guy who doesn’t take no for an answer.”

And sure you could.

Daniel hugged you goodbye the next class, saying he was planning a get-away with his new friends for a weekend and it might be dangerous – fucking absurd.

With your heart in your throat, you quickly patted his back and twisted from his arms, feeling dirty.

“No kiss for good luck?” he teased, that annoying smug smile on his face and you had to remind yourself that punching him was a terrible idea seeing as you were already walking a fine line dating a professor – who happened to be the best friend of one of your professors.

You didn’t need any problems – and for some reason, you were certain Daniel would make a big fucking deal of it. So no punching it was.

Your resolve crumbled to nothing when a sudden kiss landed on your cheek, the sensation cold like a kiss of the death itself.

Before you could as much as catch your breath which got knocked out of your lungs and not in the good way, your blood pressure skyrocketing along with your pulse to a point where your head began spinning… he was gone.

You gulped, eyes fluttering shut as the world seemed to sway from its place and you nearly jumped out of your skin when a hand grasped your arm.

“Daniel, go fuck yourself-“ you snapped and glared at him- only to meet Bucky’s angry and very much concerned gaze.

“Too bad you didn’t say that about thirty seconds ago. You alright?” the brunet asked you, grip firm yet gentle as he steadied your shaky stance.

“Uh-huh,” you hummed, a little strangled noise. “And I am gonna tell him exactly this the next time I see him.”

“Not good enough for me. You’re not stupid, I know you’re not. But I’m not either,” he remarked, expression gravel. His tone hardened, unlike his eyes that studied you thoroughly, examining your face as if searching for something. “You think I didn’t notice the change of your wardrobe?”

An icy-cold shiver ran an up your spine, causing all your muscles to stiffen.

Fuck. He noticed.

You supposed it wasn’t too hard to see and it was only natural that he kept an eye on you as on his best friend’s girlfriend. Yes, your Tuesday’s outfits suddenly somehow lacked skirts and anything with a deeper neckline than a turtle-neck, simply in hopes to turn Daniel off or at least not to pluck up his interest further; an action that had taken zero effect.

But being called out like this? That stung. It hurt your pride and it hurt by its very nature, because it reminded you how pathetic you were, unable to get rid of a jerk who didn’t take no for an answer – in a public space, with witnesses for god’s sake. It made you feel weak and incompetent.

So you looked Professor Barnes dead in the eye, your lips a thin line, your voice cold as you spoke the only words that made sense at that time:

“I—I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

So what if you stuttered? So what if his brows furrowed with what was a damn patronizing worry? You didn’t care as you gathered your stuff without another word exchanged.

You made a mental note to wear your favourite outfit the next week, forgoing pants and turtle-necks, because you could fucking take care of yourself.

Penny encouraged you, clearly having faith in you too, but she also gently reminded you that you could report him.

As if. Brining more attention to your person was the last thing you needed.

You could do this on your own, thank you very much.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

For all your bravado, you asked a girl you barely knew by name if you could sit next to her and nearly cried when she said yes and another girl seated herself to your other side within two minutes. You even smiled for yourself contentedly, seeing a dawn of a new age.

And then Daniel fucking Gallo walked in and charmed his way to the seat next to you anyway, somehow managing to scare off your original saviour as well.

Well, too bad for him; you had your confidence back along with your outfit that suited you much better and you were going to tell that jerk to fuck off, just like you promised to Bucky and yourself.

“You thought I wasn’t coming today, la mia bella ragazza? I couldn’t bear not seeing you…” he started off again and you eyed him head to toe, causing a smile spread on his face. You had found that smile cute once, the kind of smile you would let a person get away with murder for.

Now it was making you want to commit murder.

“I was hoping actually.”

“Oh, sassy today, are we? What’s wrong?”

What’s wrong? He had the audacity to-

You can’t punch him, you can’t punch him, think of the bureaucracy and your future…

What about my satisfaction?

Zip it!

You took a deep breath and watched that asshole take a seat next to you, automatically shuffling his chair closer.

“Daniel, look-“

“Zitta, zitta…” he interrupted you softly, but the manner he spoke with only pissed you off further. Fuck Italian.

“I don’t know what that means and frankly, I don’t care. I’m taken. I said so, several times. So back off,” you hissed, watching your volume despite the prof not being in yet – you didn’t need a scene. You were disgustingly certain Daniel had brought enough attention to you already – in fact, you were shocked Steve hadn’t learned about this yahoo yet with how quickly gossip spread on this university.

And that Bucky hadn’t told him-- God, you hoped Bucky wasn’t saving it for today’s boys night-

To your utter shock and annoyance, Daniel didn’t seem bothered in the slightest, smiling widely as if amused at your antics. “Am I putting doubts in that bella testolina of yours?”

Your blood boiled at such implication… and maybe there was a thin flow of steam coming from your ears too? Because you couldn’t fucking believe this guy, implying such thing-

--okay, you weren’t sure what exactly he said, honestly, but you understood just enough. No doubts. You were perfectly sure he was an asshole you wanted to have nothing to do with.

“No! No way! Jesus- okay. Let’s be clear. Was... this,” you gestured between the two of you in self-explanatory manner, “flattering at first? Yes. But seriously, now you’re just making me uncomfortable.”

As if appealing to his conscience would work…

“Then give in. Just one little dinner,” he insisted, showing a small space between his thumb and forefinger, grinning as if he hadn’t been listening to you at all. “What could it hurt? Who knows, maybe I’ll show you a real good time and you’ll forget all about some boring boyfriend of yours… who I’m not sure he exists actually-“

You inhaled sharply, wheezing in fact, heat of righteous anger flooding your whole body. That fucker-!

“Oh for fuck’s sake-“

You can’t punch him. You. Can. Not. Punch. Him.

You repeated those words to yourself like a magical mantra that was losing its effect, because there was nothing you wanted more. Maybe except for Steve punching him, that would be quite a show… but it was not an option.

For one, Steve, thank heavens, still didn’t know about Daniel’s unwanted advances and for two, chances were that he would show a little less restraint and you wouldn’t blame him one bit. But it would bring a whole new set of trouble, so you had to deal with this alien of a man on your own.

And right now, staring into that stupidly smug face of his, you only saw one possible solution.

“Okay, fine.”

You almost slapped your hand over your mouth as soon as the words left your lips, numbing horror overwhelming your body.

What the fuck did you just do?!

“Yes!” Daniel whisper-yelled, pumping his fist and you noticed that the class was gradually falling silent, probably with Bucky’s approach – but there was still enough chatter going on for you to save the situation somehow.

“-but you have to earn it,” you added in an equally hushed tone.

He cocked his eyebrow, as if smelling your fear that arrived instantly after the rash decision he provoked from you. “I won’t back out from a challenge, bellezza.”

Yeah, I friggin’ bet.

Your mind was racing hundred miles an hour, choosing to ignore the whatever-it-meant petname in favour of the crisis at hand.

“How about… you ask the professor a question-“ Oh Bucky was going to have your head on a stick for that, but hey, he had offered to help you- “-and if he answers wrong, I’ll go to one dinner with you, tonight.”

…that would be alright, right? Just to get rid of him. One dinner so he would get the clue at last. You’d be a hateful bitch, possibly embarrassing him, doing just about anything for him to finally stop making your life a living hell.

Yeah, looking back at the product of your frantic brain, it had been an excellent thinking actually. Go impulsive me!

Hell, tonight was perfect for it, with Steve having a night off with Bucky and you originally planning on studying with Penny. You would tell Steve after, explaining everything—or maybe before? Bucky was your witness that you weren’t exactly an enthusiastic participant in this, surely he would help you explain and would be able to distract Steve-

But really, that was all theoretical, because Daniel would have to catch Bucky off guard first, which was very unlikely. Bucky knew his subject through and through and Daniel’s chances were extremely low anyway.

“Easy-peasy,” Daniel grinned confidently, making you internally roll your eyes at his overconfident ass.

Or perhaps you had let your annoyance show for real? You couldn’t tell anymore, the adrenaline rush in your veins making certain things too sharp and other dull. For instance, you registered Daniel’s eyes flickering towards the teacher’s stand, his already wide smile growing enough to nearly tear his mouth.

“Even easier when we have a substitute.”

“What,” you blurted out, head snapping to the professor at the front.

A flash of blond hair and a shade darker beard. Broad shoulders. Blue eyes of which you simply knew they had a glint of green in them.

Your heart positively stopped in your chest, your lips parting in mute horror.

“Oh shit.”

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Vocabulary: Perfetto - perfect Principessa – princess Aspetta – wait La mia (bella) ragazza – my (pretty) girl Zitta – shh Bella testolina – pretty head

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Part 2

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Eh, I swear the first idea was giving off less of a harassment vibe. But it gets better, I promise ;)

I apologize to Italians if you find this offensive, but it was in fact not my intention at all for Daniel to be a representation of a whole nation. I figured there are insistent jerks all over the globe. (And I happened to have an Italian real-life template, not gonna lie.)

[onecanonlife]

careful son (you got dreamer's plans)

Wilbur gasps back to life with mud between his fingers and rain in his eyes.

Wilbur was dead. Now, he is not. He can't say that he's particularly happy about it.

Unfortunately, the server is still as tumultuous as ever, even with Dream locked away, so it seems that his involvement in things isn't a matter of if, but when.

(Alternatively: the prodigal son returns, and a broken family finally begins to heal. If, that is, the egg doesn't get them all killed first.)

Chapter Word Count: 6,567

Chapter Warnings: swearing, minor violence, manipulation/mind control, blood, vomiting, and explicit s.uicidal thoughts

Chapter Summary: Wilbur meets the Egg. It doesn’t go well. At all.

(masterlist w/ ao3 links)

(first chapter) (previous chapter) (next chapter)

Chapter Seven: feet in the fire

A new day dawns, as per usual.

Tommy and Tubbo are waiting for him when he steps outside, shielding his eyes against the sun. They’ve got their heads tilted together, discussing something in hushed tones, Tommy gesticulating wildly, and he takes a moment to stop and smile at them. It’s just like when they were kids, the both of them getting into one mischief or another. Tommy was always the one to be blamed for it, but Wilbur knows better than to think that Tubbo doesn’t instigate his own fair share of chaos. It’s hidden better, but they’re two peas in a pod, in the end.

“Should I be concerned?” he asks, the words coming easily. Today is a good day, he thinks. He feels good, better than he has since his return. The darkness has receded, and his heart almost feels light. He can almost forget about the scar that runs across it.

They both jump, heads swiveling toward him.

“Wilbur!” Tommy says, at the exact same time as Tubbo says, “Good morning!” He glances between the two of them, and feels his lips curl upward into a smile once again. It feels easy, to be smiling with them.

“As long as I’m not the victim,” he says, and Tubbo shakes his head.

“No, no,” he says, “see, we were thinking about the Egg, right? And how it’s just, like, an egg. And we assume that it’s red, because of all of the vines, but we’ve never seen it, so we don’t actually know how big it is. I think that it’s a great big egg, because all these vines are big and thick.”

“And I think,” Tommy interjects, “that there’s no way that these vines are coming from the actual Egg itself, because vines don’t hatch out of eggs. So I think that it’s a regular-sized egg, and they’ve got it on a pedestal or something like that, or a, an egg throne. But it’s gonna look so fucking stupid, because it’s literally just a little egg, and we should smash it with something and see what they do about it.”

He hesitates. “I’ve got to go with Tubbo on this one,” he says. “I don’t think it’s going to be a regular egg.”

“Psh, you don’t know,” Tommy says. “You’re dumb. Oh!” His face brightens. “I forgot, Tubbo brought you some things.”

He lifts an eyebrow and takes a few steps forward, and something in his chest warms at the way Tubbo doesn’t tense up like he did the first day, doesn’t flinch back. There is still wariness in his eyes, but he doesn’t think he’s mistaking the way that it’s lessened.

He hardly deserves it. But today is a good day, and he’ll take it for the moment.

“Yeah,” Tubbo says. “Tommy’s still dirt poor, so he asked me to do it, but here’s some gear. We thought you should have something.”

Tommy is sputtering at the description, but Tubbo ignores him. He opens up his inventory, and then takes out—gear. A couple of swords, shimmering with enchantments, a bow, an axe, a pickaxe. Wilbur feels something in him loosen just looking at them; he hadn’t realized how vulnerable he’d felt, being weaponless, and that’s probably a bit fucked up, actually. He didn’t always feel the need to keep a weapon on him at all times.

(you led child soldiers to battle when you were little more than a child yourself and can you really feel surprised, at the way the metal hums in your hand, now, the way your fingers are more secure wrapped around the hilt of a sword than the neck of your guitar?)

(you learned to play such different songs, the blood bright and accented in your eyes, every scream a crescendo)

He glances up, checking to be sure that Tubbo really does intend these for him. Tubbo nods, so he crouches down to inspect the weapons, now all laying on the grass.

“I’ve got armor too,” Tubbo says, “but I wasn’t sure that you’d want it.”

And doesn’t that carry a wealth of connotations, of memories? There is a sharpness to the words along with the question, and Wilbur

(my L’Manberg, my L’Manberg, a promise of safety you never could keep)

turns it over in his mind, poking at it.

“No armor, thank you,” he says. “I never did like it all that much. I’ll let you know if that changes. Thank you for these, though.” He gathers up the weapons, choosing a sword to wear at his waist and sliding the rest of them one by one into his inventory, and then glances up again to catalog their reactions. Tubbo seems to have expected the answer, but Tommy is frowning at him, and he has to wonder if he’s remembering something else, remembering

(the last time he refused armor, he was intending to die, had written himself off as lost, lost along with his symphony, the only possible redemption in the press of a button, the lighting of a match, and Tommy didn’t know it then but hindsight is twenty-twenty and Tommy has always been too smart for his own good)

the wars and what followed.

Tommy sees him looking, and his expression smooths over.

“Alright boys,” he crows, as if nothing at all had happened. “Egg time!”

Tubbo snorts. “Egg time,” he agrees, and Wilbur stands.

“Egg time,” he says, and then they’re off.

The day really is pleasant, a cool breeze blowing and not a cloud in the sky. Tommy and Tubbo fill the air with aimless chatter and bickering, and he chimes in sometimes and doesn’t even feel strange about doing so. This feels natural, feels right, and if he can have more days like this, days that put a spring in his step and a gentle tune in his ears, he thinks that being alive won’t be such a chore after all. Perhaps he can even learn to be thankful for it, well and truly.

He thinks that would be nice. To love life again. It’s a distant, glimmering possibility, but today it seems a bit nearer.

“It’s under Bad’s mansion, I think,” Tubbo is saying. “But they made another entrance, I’m pretty sure. Should be somewhere around—”

“Hey, Tubbo!” a voice calls. “Hey, Tommy!”

And it is a new voice. Not Tommy or Tubbo. Not Sam. A new voice, and that means a new person, and Wilbur can’t prevent the way all his muscles go taut, can’t prevent himself from fingering the hilt of his gifted sword. It’s partially a leftover instinct from the war and partially his own fear, his own aversion to being seen by anyone, to being forced into a confrontation.

He wasn’t always like this. He used to delight in speaking to people, or in a good debate, twisting his opponent’s words all around into Gordian knots until he has his victory. He’s not sure that that part of him will ever return, will ever fully recover from

(the world is against you and you are alone and you can trust no one for they will shake your hand with a smile in their eyes and stab you in the back as soon as you forget yourself and turn)

those dark days, the days that took his charisma and twisted it into spite and paranoia and manipulation. Words that once were sweet drip down bitter-sharp, or shrivel on his tongue before they can breathe at all.

“Huh—oh!” Tubbo says. “It’s just Ranboo, Wilbur, don’t worry. Ranboo!”

Tubbo can see his stress, then, and that’s bad enough. He doesn’t need anyone else bearing witness to it. But Tubbo is already calling out and waving, and there is someone approaching them from off to the side of the path, someone very, very tall, half their skin pitch black and the other half stark white, a small golden crown perched in their hair. And Wilbur thinks, I have no fucking clue who this is, and a split second later, he thinks, Oh, it’s Ranboo, and the cognitive dissonance threatens to overwhelm him before he figures out its source.

He has never met this guy in his life. But Ghostbur did. Ghostbur—liked him? He’s fairly certain. Ghostbur liked everyone, of course, but they bonded, he’s pretty sure. Over memory problems? Ranboo has memory problems? That seems right?

What a mess.

“Hi,” Ranboo says. “Feels like it’s been a while. Oh, hey Gho—ostbur?” His voice trails off on the last word, going up about an octave and a half, suddenly very uncertain.

What does he remember about Ranboo? Soft-spoken, he thinks. Kind. Generally pretty nervous. A sardonic sense of humor, if you can get to it, one that made Ghostbur laugh. That’s all he can come up with. He was with Tubbo’s L’Manberg, but he doesn’t know what happened to him after—well. After.

He steps forward, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. “Not really,” he says. “Alivebur is more accurate.” He pauses. “Please just call me Wilbur, though. It’s nice to meet you. In the flesh, that is.”

Ranboo’s eyes widen. He’s not making eye contact, fixing his gaze just to Wilbur’s left instead, and—ah. That’s right. Enderman.

“Wow,” Ranboo says. “Uh, yeah! Nice to meet you too, I guess? Um, has this been a thing, or…?”

“Recent development,” Tubbo says. “We’re taking it slow.”

He feels like he should object to that phrasing. It makes him sound a bit like he’s… in their care or something like that, though he supposes that’s not entirely inaccurate. He’s hardly made strides to go and do anything by himself.

“Oh,” Ranboo says. He pauses. “Well, that’s cool. Do you know how?” He seems to regret the question immediately, holding his hands up in front of him, placating. “Not that you have to tell me or anything! But it’s just, I was there when Phil tried to resurrect you that one time, I don’t know if you remember. And it didn’t really seem to work?”

“You’re fine,” he says. “We don’t really know. We’re rolling with it.”

“That’s fair,” Ranboo says, and there is a moment of awkward silence. Wilbur can tell that he wants to ask something else, but he refrains, shifting nervously from foot to foot. “Um, so I was just at the spider spawner. Needed to fix some armor. What are you guys up to?”

“We want to see the Egg,” Tommy says. “Have you seen the Egg, Ranboo?”

“The Egg?” Ranboo repeats. “You mean the one with the, uh—” He gestures around them, presumably at the vines that sprawl across the ground nearby. “No, I haven’t seen it. I don’t really want to, if I’m entirely honest. Kind of creepy, how people are fawning over it. I mean, it’s just an egg. Presumably. So I’m not really interested in getting involved.”

“We’re going to draw stuff all over it if it’s small,” Tommy says. “I’ve decided that just now.”

“Oh?” Ranboo says, and then doesn’t seem to know where to go with it.

“You could come with us if you wanted,” Tubbo says, but Ranboo shakes his head.

“Nah, I should be getting home. I have to feed Enderchest,” he says. “It was nice seeing you guys, though. And you, Wilbur. Um, welcome back to life, I guess?” He hesitates. “I gotta ask, does Phil know? Because we’re neighbors, and I was wondering if I should say anything about it or not.”

“You’re neighbors?” Wilbur asks, and looks at Ranboo in a new light. Young, anxious, in need of a secure place to stay once L’Manberg was destroyed—huh. That fits the bill. That fits the bill exactly. This is the type of kid that he can see Phil getting attached to.

(his heart’s always been too big for his own good, too soft despite all the years he’s lived, though he has to wonder why Ranboo is allowed a place and not Tommy, not the child he took in as his own years and years ago)

(it’s a matter of betrayal, perhaps, perceived on both sides, and which is right, he doesn’t know)

(he’s not going to tell Tommy that he’s not angry about L’Manberg’s destruction, because that might be a betrayal in and of itself)

“Huh,” he says, instead of voicing any of his thoughts aloud. “No, Phil knows, I’ve seen him. Him and Techno both.”

“Okay, good to know,” Ranboo says, and he really does look relieved. “Good luck with the Egg.”

“See you around, Ranboo,” Tubbo says. “You should stop by Snowchester sometime.”

“I’ll make sure to do that,” Ranboo says, and then with a slight wave and a bit of a smile, he’s walking off along the path. Wilbur stares after him for a moment, which is why he sees how he stops and pulls out a book after he’s gone a few dozen meters and begins rapidly scribbling in it.

His memory book. He remembers that.

“See, that wasn’t so bad,” Tubbo says. They start walking again, and then they leave the path and start crossing the grass. The vines become thicker, more frequent. Something about them fills him with a sense of unease. Probably their color; outside of the nether, nothing is quite that shade of red, a dark crimson that reminds him of nothing so much as blood. Not dried blood, not the color it gets when it’s caked on like rust,

(coating his sleeves and he didn’t clean them so the blood is still there and he can smell it and the sword is in his hand and the stains are never going to come out)

but rather, it’s as if it’s frozen in time, still glistening, ready to flow again when the force holding it back gives way.

“I remember Ranboo,” he says absently. “Sort of. Ghostbur liked him. Though I guess that’s not really an accomplishment.”

And then, they’re at a short structure built into the earth, a ladder leading down. He peers over the edge, and can just barely make out a pool of water at the bottom, intended to break a fall.

“The spawner’s down there,” Tubbo says. “But I’m pretty sure there’s a tunnel that connects it to underneath Bad’s mansion, and that’s where the Egg is. Are we ready?”

“Of course we’re ready,” Tommy scoffs. He’s grinning, bright and wild. It’s the promise of adventure, Wilbur supposes, excitement without too much danger. Something new to discover, perhaps a new prank to play. His enthusiasm is infectious, but somehow, he can’t bring himself to join in fully. The sun is still shining, but something heavy weighs on him now, something that he can’t place. It’s the vines, he thinks, their unsettling nature, and he can’t bring himself to be sure that this will be without risk.

But Tommy’s on the ladder. Tubbo’s got one leg over the side, preparing to follow. There’s nowhere to go but down.

They make it without incident, and the sound of at least a hundred spiders hits his ears as soon as his feet touch the ground. He winces, trying to ignore the skittering and shrieking, but it’s impossible to do so entirely. But Tubbo is right—there are several tunnels leading out of this room, and there is a fuzzy red glow emanating from one of them. He exchanges glances with Tommy, who is still grinning, and with Tubbo, who has a smile on his face. Neither of them think this could go wrong, then. He should probably trust to that. He’s been alive again for all of five days. They know the server better than he does, at the moment.

They descend. He keeps his hand near the hilt of his sword.

He wishes Schlatt were here, just a little bit. His presence would be irritating, but reassuring. Reassuring to have another adult here, little help though he would be. Reassuring to have someone who could make fun of the situation, distract him from his mounting sense of dread. But he hasn’t seen Schlatt since yesterday, since he vanished from the prison, and he

(isn’t worried, not one bit)

can’t help but wonder where he is, what he’s doing. It’s not like anyone else can see him, not like he can touch anything. So how is he occupying his time?

It’s warm down here.

The heat is stifling, humid, like a swamp, almost, but worse, because there are fumes as well, and that acrid scent that comes hand in hand with lava. As they enter the main chamber, it is easy enough to see why: there are patches of lava and molten rock all across the floor, and vines hang down from the ceiling and cover nearly every square inch of space. The floor itself is obsidian, he notices. And there, in the corner—

It can only be the egg. He can’t tell how tall it is, can barely see it though the clusters of vines dangling in front of him. But it is very large, and very red, and beside him, Tommy mutters a curse. Too big to vandalize quickly and hightail it out, but frankly, Wilbur feels as though that’s the least of their problems.

“That is a big egg,” Tubbo says. He sounds impressed.

“I’ve seen bigger,” Tommy grumbles, stepping further into the room. He almost trips over one of the vines, and he shoots a scowl at his feet.

“No you have not,” Tubbo says. “Where have you seen a bigger egg?”

“I—” Tommy stops. “C’mon, let’s go look at it.”

“No, no, I want to know where you’ve seen a bigger egg,” Tubbo presses, even as they walk forward, picking their way through the room carefully. “Wilbur, back me up, where has Tommy seen a bigger egg?”

“Maybe he laid one,” he replies, and that response makes no sense at all, but he can’t be bothered to put in the effort. The closer they get, the more his mind is screaming at him

(get out get out get out)

that something isn’t right about this, that they’ve made a mistake in coming down here, and there is a corner of his brain that is filling with static, buzzing and distracting and uncomfortable. And then they’re standing right in front of it, and that feeling multiplies tenfold.

The Egg is several times his height and even wider across, and it is a shade of red that is unparalleled even by its vines. It is a shade of red that seems to move, that seems to scream, that seems to drip and ooze into the air. It almost looks as though it is made of blood itself, as if he could put out a hand and stick it right though, and he almost tries it before he balks at the idea, every instinct he has rejecting the urge.

No. This Egg is not for touching.

“I’m not sure I like this,” Tubbo murmurs after a moment. His ears lie flat against his head.

“It’s just an egg,” Tommy says. “Don’t be a pussy. Wil, what do you think?”

Wilbur opens his mouth and finds that he cannot reply.

“Do you think I could break a piece off?” Tommy asks. “Like a souvenir?”

“You shouldn’t do that,” someone says, and Wilbur jerks violently, his sword half unsheathed before he’s given himself permission for the action.

BadBoyHalo. It’s BadBoyHalo, only not, not Bad as Wilbur remembers him, because his face has taken on an ashen grey pallor, and his capillaries spread out like a web across his face, and they are the same white as his eyes. The same stark white, but somehow sickly, and blood shouldn’t be that color, blood should not be white, and Bad’s face itself looks gaunt and shadowed, half-starved, and his smile, once so kind and genial, is something predatory, something threatening. Bad is a demon, but he has never been a monster, and now Wilbur isn’t so sure that there isn’t a terrible thing peering at him out of those white, blank eyes, a terrible thing that isn’t Bad at all.

Antfrost stands beside him, and Antfrost’s eyes are red instead of blue.

“Hi Tommy, Tubbo,” Bad says. His voice is chipper, pleasant, and yet— “Hi, Wilbur! I didn’t realize that you were back! Have you come to see the Egg?”

Should Bad be this blasé about his appearance? He doesn’t think so. They were never friends.

(and even his friends were not his friends, by the end)

“Yeah, we wanted to check it out,” Tubbo says.

“That’s great,” Bad says. “Visitors are always welcome. It’s a fantastic egg, isn’t it?”

The question is searching, probing. He’s looking for a specific answer. Wilbur thinks that it would be a bad idea to give him the wrong one.

“I mean, it’s very big,” Tommy says.

“It is, it is,” Bad agrees, nodding amiably. “Are you liking it so far? I mean, are you having fun?”

Wilbur opens his mouth, intending to say yes, intending to say it’s the best egg in all the world, intending to say anything and everything that Bad so clearly wants to hear if only it will get them out of here sooner. But his mind is filled with static and he is too slow to the mark, so it is Tommy that answers.

“It’s fine, I guess,” he says. “Your decorations are shit, though. It’s too crowded down here. If I were a decorating expert, which I am, I’d say that you might try to clear some of this out, you know?”

“That’s—an interesting suggestion, Tommy,” Bad says, and his smile is much more strained. He doesn’t bother to hide it. It’s like a thin gash in his face. “I’ll bear that in mind.” He tilts his head. “I like it like this, though. I think it really gives life to the room. And we wouldn’t want to do anything to hurt it.”

“Hurt it?” Tommy repeats, and Wilbur’s heart is suddenly in his throat, with no reason as to why. “It’s a fucking egg.”

Bad goes very still. Very still, and very quiet. Antfrost’s eyes gleam, and his ears twitch.

“It’s a very good Egg,” Bad says. “Maybe you should listen to what it has to say. I bet it has something to offer you.”

That doesn’t—that doesn’t make any sense. Bad isn’t making any sense, and it’s a kind of nonsense that is unnerving, made worse by his apparent sincerity. Wilbur tries to reach out, tries to get Tommy’s attention, tries to get him close, but his arms won’t move. All of his limbs feel thick, heavy, and his head is spinning, airy and light and disconnected, and Bad and Ant are intimidating figures, suddenly, figures that stand between them and the exit. Wilbur thinks that perhaps, he should draw his sword. He doesn’t like the way that Bad is talking, doesn’t like the way that Ant is staring.

Instead, he turns his head to look at the Egg.

Tommy barks a laugh, loud and incredulous, and it’s like someone has driven a pickaxe through Wilbur’s skull. He moans faintly, but no one seems to notice. The room is swimming.

“Have you gone nutters?” Tommy asks. “It’s a fucking Egg. I don’t see a mouth on it anywhere. In fact, if it has a mouth, I don’t want to know about it, because that is fucking disgusting—”

“Actually,” Tubbo says quietly, “I think I can hear it.”

Tommy stops.

“You what?”

“You do?” Bad asks. He takes a step forward. Wilbur wants to take a step back. He doesn’t move. He’s looking at the Egg, and he can’t tear his gaze away, despite what’s happening in the corner of his eye, because there’s something just on the edge of his perception that he can’t—

“What is it saying to you?” Bad continues.

“It’s saying—” Tubbo’s face scrunches up. “Actually, I really don’t think I like this. I think we should go. What I can make out isn’t very polite.” His voice wavers, wobbles, like a spinning top running out of momentum.

“Really,” Bad says. His voice has gone flat. “I think you should stay and listen some more. It might grow on you.”

“Um, no,” Tommy says, “no, I think that’s a bad idea, actually. I don’t want to—is this some kind of cult? Are you a cult, BadBoyHalo? Is this Egg your cult leader? I think we should not listen to the Egg cult. This is weird. This is fucking weird. Tubbo, do you want to go? Let’s go.”

Tommy makes a motion. Wilbur can’t tell what. He’s looking at the Egg, and his vision is blurry. But he can see the way that Bad steps forward again, the way that Ant steps to the other side. Their netherite armor gleams. The message is clear: if they want to leave, they go through them, and Wilbur can barely think past the way his head is pounding, but this was a bad idea. This was so clearly a bad idea.

Was this Dream’s plan all along? Get them down here, get them into—whatever situation this is?

“Hold on just a minute,” Bad says. “I don’t think you’ve given the Egg a fair chance. The Egg wants what’s best for everyone, and that means you guys, too. How about you, Wilbur, do you like the Egg?”

He opens his mouth. No sound comes out. The room is swaying. The Egg is right there. He could touch it.

(static static static and beneath it there is)

Tommy is at his elbow, gripping his sleeve. “C’mon, big man, you feeling alright? You’re looking awfully pale.” A moment, and then, “Wilbur? Wilbur? Tubbo, something’s wrong with him. Come on, Wilbur, let’s go.”

“Do you hear the Egg, Wilbur?” Bad asks, soft and steady, and his voice slices through the fog.

Because he—

He—

(glowing and red and creeping and comforting and sickly and familiar)

He hears it.

A whisper, trailing just on the borderline of audibility. A whisper, rasping and knife-edged, and it feels like a hand, like a hand is reaching into his brain, touching his mind, dragging its fingertips on his thoughts, and he is shaking, and he can’t stop. It is a whisper, and he doesn’t understand the words, but their meaning filters through to him all the same.

It whispers to him of fire. He can hear it crackling. He can hear it burning. He can feel it on his flesh, eating him, eating up his skin and his sinews and his bones until he is ash, ash mingling with the ash of his city. He is on fire and the fire hurts and it is a beautiful pain, a pain to revel in, a pain that he has chosen, a pain that has him grinning even as his lips burn away and bare his teeth, bare his skull, a permanent smile, a smile that means he’s won. His fingers are clenched around the match, his fingers are caressing the button, his fingers are grasping the hilt of the sword as he forces Phil’s arm to drive it forward. But it doesn’t matter, because he is the fire and he is the ash, and he is eaten away and he eats everything else, a serpent consuming his own tail and screaming and laughing and choking all the while.

It whispers to him of fire. You could burn the world, it says, and dance in the ruins, dance on the flickering spark-soaked wind, and it will be of you, their destruction, because if you cannot have it then no one deserves it so why not grant them the wreckage their betrayals have wrought?

His blood sings with it, with the thrill of it, with the desperate, ugly longing for it, the beast that lives under his skin rising to the surface, and unlike the kraken it breathes and it lives and it howls.

“Wilbur?”

He comes back to himself, a bit, and finds that he is smiling in truth, his lips pulled back, his teeth on display.

“Wilbur?” Tommy says again. “Wilbur, we need to go.”

Tommy doesn’t understand. Tommy doesn’t hear it. Doesn’t hear the voice, doesn’t hear its promises, its wonderful, wonderful promises. But that’s alright. He will, in time, and until then, Wilbur can understand for the both of them.

“Everything’s going to be alright,” he tells him. “You’ll see. Can’t you hear it, Tommy? The world is on fire!”

He laughs, giddy. The room is spinning, and he with it, and his head throbs in time with his heart.

It whispers to him of a song.

A song, rife with drumbeats, thudding like the steps of a hundred armies, a million soldiers fighting and dying on the field. He was one of them, once, was Ares and led them all to blood. Blood, red and flowing, and what a lovely color it is. The blood is in the song, too, a plink plink plink of high staccato notes, a thrumming bass line that goes down in steps, a celebration

(no no no it’s a ground bass it’s a lament it’s a lament)

for the life spilling on the ground, for the life that is sacrificed, for the life that is fed to the cause, to the symphony, to the symphony! It understands his symphony, can sing in harmony with it! He’s gone so very long playing by himself, and yet here is something that knows the tune.

“No,” Tommy says, his voice shaking like a leaf on the breeze, “no, no, Wilbur, Wilbur, you’ve got to stop it, you’re scaring me, Wilbur, please—”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” he replies, because he must make it clear, must make Tommy understand. “The symphony’s still there, Tommy, can’t you hear it? It’s kept on without me, but I’m here now. I can continue it how I want.” He widens his smile. “I can leave it how I want. I can leave it unfinished again. I can make sure that no one finishes it.”

Tubbo makes a noise, like a small scream. Tommy is silent.

“The Egg can do it, Tommy,” he says. “The Egg can do it. All you have to do is listen. Please, Tommy, for me, can’t you hear it?”

Finally, finally, he wrenches his gaze away from the Egg. Bad and Ant have moved closer, Tommy and Tubbo farther away. Tommy���s eyes are wide, and blue, and terrified.

(blue)

“No,” Tommy answers. “No, Wilbur, I can’t hear it. I don’t want to hear it.”

“We can fix that,” Bad offers, and Wilbur turns his smile on him. “All you have to do is stay down here for a little while. How does that sound?”

“It sounds bad! It sounds very, very bad!” Tommy erupts. “We’re not fucking staying down here, not when you’ve made Wilbur go all—” He gestures, and Wilbur doesn’t understand what he’s trying to say. He feels fine, feels real, feels exultant, and he’d thought such emotions lost to him, so shouldn’t Tommy be happy for him? “We’re leaving, and if you try to stop us, then I’ll—fuck, I’ll stab the fucking thing and crack it open, and you can be all weird and cultish over the yolk.” As he says it, he pulls out a sword of his own, netherite and shining with enchantments, waving it wildly in the Egg’s direction.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Tommy,” Bad says, and then looks to Ant. “We’ll remove the obstacle. Tubbo and Wilbur can stay here.”

That sounds like a good idea. He’ll stay here, and the Egg will give him everything it promised in exchange for his devotion. And Tubbo will learn, in time, to love it. It is unfortunate, about Tommy, but those who threaten the Egg must either be brought around or they must be disposed of,

(wait)

and Tommy is never inclined to listen after he’s gotten an idea in his head. He’s terribly stubborn like that. So if he’s decided to oppose the Egg, there’s only one thing left to do.

Wilbur draws his sword, and in unison with Bad and Ant, steps toward Tommy. Tubbo shouts a denial, fumbling for his own weapon, but Tommy just stands there, staring at him, a look on his face that

(is horror and betrayal and you promised to protect him promised you wouldn’t hurt him anymore so what are you doing)

does something strange to his stomach, and—

The Egg is calling for his death, calling for his blood. But this—

This is Tommy. His little brother. He’s striding toward his little brother with his sword in his hand, and this isn’t—

The Egg whispers. Wilbur hears it. And it

(is going to hurt Tommy)

is going to hurt Tommy. He sees it in his mind: Tommy’s limbs sprawled on the ground, Tommy’s eyes gazing up sightlessly, Tommy’s shirt wet with blood, Tommy dead and Tommy gone, and a wave of revulsion washes over him. Tubbo is moving forward, is moving to protect, but Ant engages him, and Bad is too close to Tommy, and Bad’s sword is raised, is poised to strike, and Tommy reacts too late and he’s not going to get his own sword up in time and the Egg is so loud and demanding and Wilbur can hear it but he doesn’t want—

He catches Bad’s blade on his own. Interposes himself between Bad and Tommy.

“Get the fuck away from him,” he growls.

Bad’s eyes widen.

“Don’t you want to protect the Egg?” he asks, and Wilbur reels, because a large part of him wants to say yes, wants to say that he will give the Egg anything and everything it wants. But the problem is that there is another part of him, now, a part that puts Tommy’s safety above all else, and that part of him is trembling and shaking and terrified, and the Egg doesn’t feel like a soothing whisper but instead like a snarl, and there are still fingers in his brain but he can recognize them for what they are, for what they’re doing, can recognize that they’re fucking with his thoughts, yanking them around like a marionette on a string, and—

“Get out of my head,” he cries out, and goes on the offensive, and Bad must be surprised, because he allows himself to be driven back. The Egg screams, and he screams, too, because it’s loud and his head hurts so bad and part of him wants desperately to follow its commands and he feels as though he’s being ripped in half.

(it’s in his head it’s in his head it’s a violation it’s scraping off his skin hollowing him out and putting itself inside and he doesn’t want it doesn’t want it he wants it out wants it out out out)

There is a clang, a clatter of armor, and Wilbur chances a glance back to see that Tubbo’s gotten one up on Ant, somehow, and he’s grabbed Tommy’s hand and then Tommy’s grabbing his, and they’re all running. And Bad lets them go, sprints over to Ant instead, and they’re going to get out, they’re going to get out—

The Egg whispers to him of rest.

(it’s in his head and it won’t leave and it’s like worms writhing under his skin but)

He digs his heels into the floor and turns back. Tommy is shouting something and Tubbo is shouting something and they’re both pulling on his hands, but he won’t let himself budge.

The Egg whispers to him of rest, tells him, If you will not take the fire, then why not take the dark, they will be safe and unharmed without you there to burn them and you can find your peace again, that comforting nothingness that allowed you to drift, and

(yes)

yes, he wants that, wants that so badly, because he was dragged back to life, dragged back into the world that cut him down to the quick, that formed all his sharp edges, and for Tommy’s sake, he can pretend, but he doesn’t want to be here. And the red of the Egg is comforting again, its glow soothing and warm, and All you have to do is give in, it says to him, all you have to do is let go and the peace is yours and who could blame you for taking it back when it was wrongfully wrested away from you?

“Come on, Wilbur!” Tommy is shouting.

“It’s offering me rest, Tommy,” he says, and his voice is agonized. “It’s offering—I want to rest, Tommy.”

“Wha—no!” Tommy says, and from the shock in his voice, the horror, Wilbur knows that he understands exactly what he means. “No rest! You—you fucking promised, Wilbur, you told me that you were glad to be here!”

(it’s in his head and it’s using his mouth but it’s only saying what he’s been hiding, has brought these thoughts to the surface, to the light)

“I lied,” he says. “Tommy, I want to rest. Please, let me go.”

(his father stands in front of him, his sword in his hand, and his eyes are bewildered and hurt and confused and terrified, and he knows that with the way he is, it will only take a push for him to get what he wants, only a push to provoke his father into a reaction, and he is so very selfish but he is far past caring, because the symphony is unfinished and he is ready to go he is ready to go)

He looks at Tommy. Tommy is crying.

“Fuck you,” Tommy snarls. “Fuck you, we’re leaving, we’re leaving right fucking now, Tubbo, help me—”

And they are pulling him back, pulling him back and away, but he is struggling, fighting them, because

(please let me go please let me go)

the red is so warm and so soothing and as long as it’s not asking him to hurt Tommy, it’s alright, really, and he wants this, he does, and all of his earlier thoughts about fingers and puppets have dissipated and he wants this, he’s sure that he does, and Tommy and Tubbo aren’t letting him, they aren’t letting him go. And Ant is on his feet again, and he and Bad are advancing, and if he can just get to them, they will help him, they will understand—

And then everything gets very confusing. Because there is another voice, suddenly, one he doesn’t recognize. More sounds of fighting, and he doesn’t know who is fighting who, because the world is fading away around him, and his vision is just red. And then he’s being manhandled, and he wants to keep struggling, but his limbs aren’t responding, and someone is carrying him up a ladder, and then he’s being set on the grass, and the nausea hits him hard and quick, and he’s retching, bile coming up, and he’s choking on it and he can’t get any air—

And there are flashes. More nausea. His head pounding, like someone’s tried to make a jigsaw puzzle out of his skull. Water, cool and refreshing, and the red subsides, but he hurts, hurts so very much.

Tommy’s voice, yelling. A glimpse of Tommy’s face. And then, Wilbur is out.

[igirisuhito]

Title: Out of my mind Relationship(s): Kamukura Izuru/Naegi Makoto Rating: Teen Summary:  Naegi goes to confront Kamukura Izuru, based off their scene in dr3. For Kamuegi week Day 5: Scars/Future Foundation Trigger Warnings: Medical Trauma, Medical Abuse, Broken Bones, Dr0 References/Spoilers, PTSD

[Ao3 Link]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Future Foundation were kind enough to disclose all information that led to the Tragedy of Hope's Peak to its survivors. Naegi read through the files of the Hope Cultivation Project, the project that was being funded by the school's reserve course. The same event that led to its downfall. 

It was utterly petrifying to him. 

The fact that a talentless student would volunteer himself for such brutal experiments was unfathomable. He saw the logs of Hinata Hajime's descent into inhumanity, becoming a creature nobody could ever hope to perceive as a regular person. 

There were 3 surgeries in total, all additional operations were performed through electrical stimulus or injections of medication. The first one was a whole two days after Hinata had signed that contract, the aforementioned contract that had disappeared from the Biology building before it could have been recovered. Which was unfortunate, but they were already so lucky to have been able to obtain the Project's logs that nobody really cared about what had been lost. 

The first surgery was the one that scared Naegi the most. The severing of the connections between the prefrontal cortex and parts of the frontal lobe from the rest of the brain. Kirigiri had explained this to him simply, "They performed a leucotomy. You know what that is, right? A lobotomy?"

They'd learnt about it in highschool, surprisingly their years of education were the memories most easily recovered. Naegi never really paid attention to lessons in psychology. Perhaps he should have, as a knowledge in brain ablation somehow ended up being something he actually did need later on in life. 

The fact remained that this was the first step in inducing Kamukura's apathetic outlook towards life. This was where the despair began, the despair he wanted to reverse. But how can someone reverse the effects of permanent brain damage? It's impossible, right? 

Things seemed to only get worse the more he read. The thing Naegi hated most was how positive the post surgery notes were, as if what occurred was a miracle. 

The subject is responding well, his aggression has reduced and he has become more passive towards his doctors. The subject's anxiety seems to have been quelled and he has been dissociative and nonverbal. Fortunately, he is still able to use his vocal cords and form words, as evidenced by his reaction to pain stimulus.

He could only gag. The school Naegi admired so deeply was willing to do this to a human being? He couldn't force himself to imagine the student identification photo of Hinata bearing those same lifeless eyes of Kamukura. 

It was all so so fucked up. Enough to make him groan and slam his head down onto the desk, as if giving himself brain damage would fix Hinata's.

Naegi recalled Munakata placing a hand on his shoulder, interrupting the break he was taking from cross-examining the files. He had jumped on instinct from the sudden contact. Flushing in embarrassment at the fact someone has seen him act so childishly. 

Munakata hadn't seemed phased. He just looked over at the papers scattered on the desk, skimming, scanning. He spoke up in his rather gruff voice.

"They wanted you to read up on the destroyer of Hope’s Peak, right?" 

"Uh, yeah…" Sheepishly, Naegi nodded. "This guy had to be awfully messed up to volunteer for something like this."

With a loud click of his tongue, Munakata removed his hand from the boy's shoulder. He backed himself up to the table in which Naegi had been reading at, before lifting himself and sitting on the table. "No person would volunteer for this. He was manipulated by Hope's Peak and allowed despair to swallow him whole." 

Naegi sat up in response, awaiting elaboration from the Council President. 

"Hope's Peak obviously omitted the full details of what would happen to Hinata Hajime when he signed the contract." Crossing his arms over his chest, Munakata met Naegi's intense gaze with a sigh, sounding almost mad that Naegi couldn't read his thoughts. "Of course, most of the Future Foundation doesn't want you to think that. Hope's Peak academy was never the shining beacon of hope it pretended to be, it's platitudes were just worthless lies told to deceive."

"That's terrible!" Naegi cried, slamming one hand down on the table for emphasis. "Though, now that I think about it it makes a lot of sense that Hinata didn't know everything. But he still orchestrated the first Killing game, right? Why would he have done that?" 

"Actually Kamukura Izuru was framed by Enoshima Junko." Munakata sighed in a pompous manner that reminded him all too much of Togami. "Unfortunately, he woefully succumbed to despair, though it was indeed Enoshima who led him down that path. The sheer amount of murder he did go on to later commit proves that in reality he isn't redeemable."

"Framed…? So it wasnt Kamukura who orchestrated the first killing game?" 

"Of course not!" The older man hissed. "Do you seriously just believe anything anyone tells you?" 

Naegi's breathing hitched in fear as the other slammed his hand down onto the desk with much more intensity than Naegi had earlier. "N-no… I'm sorry…"

Munakata slid back off the table, causing it to groan beneath his weight. "You should be more careful, Naegi Makoto. It's purely luck that that blind trust hasn't gotten you killed yet."

Next thing he knew Munakata was gone with a loud slam of a door. God that guy was hot-headed. 

But he was wrong, about Kamukura, that is. 

For some reason that experience was all Naegi could think about as he looked at Kamukura's back. Stiff shoulders hidden beneath the black fabric of his uniform, dark hair billowing in the wind. He created such an eerie silhouette against the golden sunset in the background, beautiful, yet filling the other with a sense of trepidation and fear.

The man Naegi had spent the whole day searching for, of course he was in the last place he looked. He could almost sigh at how awful his luck could be sometimes. His feet ached from searching all around Hope's Peak, between all the different labs and even that freaky hidden room beneath the statue of the founder.

"Naegi Makoto. The Super High School Level Hope, also known as the former Super High School Level Good Luck." A monotone voice that sounded too close and too far away all at the same time suddenly broke the silence. "You've come on orders to kill me."

All that trepidation was causing Naegi's hands to shake from how tightly wound up he was. The sound of someone else's voice made him flinch. "H-huh?! You know?" 

"Of course I do." Kamukura spoke again, now tilting his head to the side to glance back at Naegi. "It's not that I'm omniscient, I just bear the talent of the Super High School Level Analyst."

It was strange to have his mind read before he even got the thought completely through. Naegi squashed that feeling down, opting to focus on the task at hand.

He cleared his throat, attempting to still his nerves. "If you knew this, why aren't you running?" 

"Hm?" Kamukura turned himself around, now offering his complete attention to Naegi. 

Naegi shivered under those piercing crimson eyes, they bore an even brighter colour than that of Ishimaru or Celeste's eyes. They seemed to target him and lock on like a rifle, loaded and ready to fire at a moment's notice. 

"Do you honestly believe that you can kill me?" 

The breath seemingly disappeared from Naegi's lungs. He drew his hand over his mouth to muffle the faint whimper that escaped his lips. Kamukura's aura was overwhelming, an aura of pure superiority and death. 

This whole situation reminded Naegi of his own execution. The pure despair coursing through his veins. The way Monokuma grinned at him. The loud pounding of the press behind him that shook his body from head to toe. 

Ah, that was the sound of his own heart beating uncontrollably. 

"My presence is bringing back unfortunate memories for you. I apologise, I am aware that you are not here to actually kill me." As if sensing Naegi's fear, Kamukura spoke slowly and clearly.

The other boy nodded slowly, refusing to take the hand from his mouth as stinging tears threatened to spill from the corners of his eyes. His blood was rushing in his ears, drowning out all sense, overwhelming him with the pure power that was Kamukura.

Kamukura stepped towards him, a move that startled Naegi more than it probably should have. He stepped backwards in turn, but quickly set his foot down on a small and unstable piece of rubble. Instead of Naegi launching off to run, his ankle rolled at an unnatural angle.

Naegi yelped as he fell forward, his forehead barely grazing the dirtied ground. He quickly rolled over, desperately shuffling backwards and away from the older man whilst attempting not to hurt himself any further. 

"Hey, listen to me! Calm down."

His body froze completely upon hearing the command. Kamukura touched his own lips in thought, a little confusion at his sudden break in character. He briefly pondered if his past emotions were through from standing in the classroom of 77-B.

But he deemed the thought unnecessary, for now, instead focusing back on the boy in front of him. "You're here to offer a compromise, are you not?" 

Naegi sucked in a quick breath, grateful for the reminder of what he was actually here for. Unfortunately the pain from his ankle was really beginning to set in, he needed to make this brief. Nodding quickly, he attempted to regain his composure. "Yes. I know I couldn't kill you even if I wanted to. But I don't, you deserve a chance at redemption."

"I cannot be redeemed. I was created to be a tool, I have no free will and only act on the orders of others." Kamukura spoke bluntly, tilting his chin up a little. "Your redemption means nothing to me."

Naegi paused. He was expecting this kind of answer, the kind Togami gave him when Naegi said he forgave him for his actions in the killing game. 

"Huh? I don't want your forgiveness. My actions are always justified." He had said. The memory brought a little smile to his face. 

"Okay then." Tilting his head up, Naegi showed that smile off to Kamukura, as if showing him a sign of peace. "Would you like to know more about Hinata Hajime?"

"The previous inhabitant of this vessel? Why do you believe he would mean anything to me?" It was phrased less like a question, and more like an expression of confusion. As if Kamukura didn't really care about the answer, that he already knew the answer, he just didn't quite understand why Naegi Makoto, of all people, would have any interest.

"Because you're here." Raising his right arm, Naegi gestured vaguely around the room, before wincing and putting it back down. "Why would you come to a classroom full of students you didn't know to replace the flowers for Nanami Chiaki? The girl who was Hinata's best friend, the girl you murdered."

Kamukura's brow furrowed. He began to move in large calculated strides, right up to where Naegi sat, before leaning over him in a display of authority. "So you are smarter than you seem."

It was difficult to tell if it was Kamukura or Naegi who had let down their guard, perhaps a mix of both. But a small detail like that didn't bother Naegi, as his smile only widened beneath Kamukura's attempt of showing power. He had him, that much was obvious.

"Well, Kamukura-kun? Why are you here?" 

Kamukura pursed his lips for a moment, thinking to himself for a second, before answering the question. "Because being here makes me feel despair."

He curled his fingers into fists and glanced away briefly, sighing as he realised he would have to answer the inevitable question. "There are a few places in this world where I feel emotions. The classroom of 77-B, the Reserve Course building, and the third floor of the biology building."

"The third floor of the biology building?" As he thought to himself, Naegi unconsciously brought his hand to his chin. "That's oddly specific."

"The neuroscience institute." Kamukura elaborated. 

"Oh…" Naegi moved his hand up to his mouth again, feeling a mix of sympathy and horror. 

Of course he would feel despair there. After all, that's where Kamukura would have been made, where he would have been tortured and experimented on. Had his brain destroyed and enhanced over and over to produce the perfect hope. 

Where Hinata Hajime… died.

"It's an odd feeling, emotions. The emotions I experience from being in these places are perhaps the only reason I'm still here. That and the fact I have nowhere to go, no purpose left in a world without Enoshima." Kamukura began to mumble somewhat as he rambled on. 

Jeez, at least let Hinata rest in peace. 

Naegi bit back the thought, shaking his head and reminding himself of what he was really here for. "Come with me then. If you want to experience more emotions, then I can show you the Neo World Program." 

There was a slow blink as Kamukura processed the offer. "The Neo World Program?" 

"Yeah! We put it together using research from the Super High School Level programmer, therapist, and neurologist." Naegi grinned excitedly as if he was talking about how proud he was of his own child. "It's a simulation that allows people to live out peaceful days filled with hope." 

Kamukura blinked again. "The Super High School Level Neurologist, Matsuda Yasuke?" 

"Yes?" 

Those crimson eyes narrowed to near slits. "The childhood best friend and love of Enoshima Junko?" 

"...yes?"

"Who developed the method that was used to wipe your highschool memories prior to the Killing Game?"

For a moment Naegi paused, unsure of how to answer that one. "I…guess so?" 

Crouching down onto his haunches, Kamukura leaned in even closer to Naegi. "So you are using memory erasing technology then?"

Naegi leaned back a little, uncomfortable as Kamukura's hair brushed against his face. "...Yes." 

"And, assuming you're placing all of Enoshima's protégé's in this program, you'll have about 15 students?" 

"Yes, if we manage to convince them all..." Naegi's a voice dropped a little, finding himself suddenly a little more insecure about his plan. "I don't mean to interrupt but… where are you going with this?"

Kamukura was almost shocked at how naive Naegi was, especially considering he had been the one to end Enoshima. Or was he just stupid? "I'm merely baffled that you would sacrifice your own health for the sake of people you don't know. People who are murderers."

It wasn't a complete lie, most people would not have such considerations for criminals, people who had committed crimes as heinous as the ones the remnants had committed. 

Naegi noted the lack of emotion in his voice. "You don't sound baffled…" 

Ignoring his comment, Kamukura nodded. "I'll participate. I'll make sure the others do too."

"Wait, you will?!" Whilst sitting up a little too excitedly, Naegi put pressure on his ankle, sending pain shooting up his leg. He winced and laid back again. 

"Don't do that. Your ankle is broken." Letting out a bored sigh, Kamukura straightened himself back up. 

"B-broken?!" Naegi's eyes widened to near saucers in shock. "I thought I just twisted it… Am I seriously that unlucky?" 

Kamukura began unbuttoning his black uniform jacket, earning a strange look from the other as he slid it off his shoulders. He then proceeded to fold it in half and kneel back down next to Naegi's broken ankle. 

The other boy watched in awe as he tied it tightly, using it as a makeshift splint to prevent Naegi's ankle from moving too much. "Y-you're too kind Kamukura-kun… much more so than I anticipated."

"I'm doing this purely out of necessity. Nothing more." Kamukura muttered as he tightened the knot, causing Naegi to hiss in pain. He then proceeded to slide his left arm under the boy's knees and right arm under his back, nestling snugly at the base of his spine. 

"Wait wait wait wait wait what are you-?" 

Kamukura lifted Naegi up, causing him to wrap his arms tightly around Kamukura's neck in alarm. "Y-you're carrying me?!" 

"It's not as though you can walk." Kamukura sighed exasperatedly. He was having no issues with Naegi's weight, his panicked yelling, however… 

"B-but I'm heavy…" Naegi refuted, loosening his grip a little when he realised Kamukura wasn't going to hurt him. 

"You weigh less than most girls, in accordance with your height." Kamukura spoke bluntly, scanning his eyes over Naegi's form. 

"H-Hey!!" 

"You're easily flustered."

"Don't tease me!" with the heat rising in his cheeks, Naegi buried his face into Kamukura's chest in hopes of hiding his embarrassment. "I get enough of that from Togami-kun!" 

Kamukura shuffled Naegi in order to give himself a more stable hold before walking out of the classroom. Naegi grumbled into Kamukura's chest, pulling himself even closer.

"You're also easily placated. I do not understand how you've managed to survive thus far." Kamukura muttered, seemingly more to himself than Naegi. 

"You're not the first one to say that to me." Naegi whispered, voice muffled by Kamukura's shirt. 

As tempted as Kamukura felt to further tease Naegi, he decided against upsetting the boy any more than he already had. An emotional fallout would be annoying. 

They walked in silence for a few more minutes as Kamukura traversed the stairs of the building, holding Naegi tightly in order to keep him safe. 

It was near impossible to speak up over the overwhelming presence of the other, so Naegi remained still and quiet. Kamukura, however, was unafraid of breaking that silence, and suddenly piped up with a question. 

"Would the Neo World Program allow me to become somebody else?" 

"U-uh...I don't see why not? It might affect the results, however." Mumbling in thought, Naegi tilted his head up to look at Kamukura. "Do you wish to become a different person, Kamukura-kun?" 

"Well, I'm assuming you'll try to reverse the despair by reverting us to our pre-despair selves. However, I do not have a pre-despair self." Kamukura dug his fingers slightly into Naegi's shoulder, not hard enough to hurt, but enough for Naegi to see he was distressed. "Well, except for… him." 

Naegi pressed his lips together, trying his best not to be too creeped out by Kamukura's ability to predict exactly what was going to happen. "Well, that is what we planned to do. But I thought you were turned to despair by Enoshima?" 

"I was turned to spreading despair by Enoshima. However, from the moment I was created, I have been despair. There is no joy in an existence so boring." Musing to himself, Kamukura closed his eyes for a moment, still walking perfectly straight as he did so. "When a human is an expert at everything, there is nothing left to do, no goals left to accomplish. I can predict anything and everything just as it is going to happen. Nothing surprises me, nothing brings me joy. I no longer have the ability to feel human emotions."

"I see, that makes sense… even though it is really sad." Pressing his head closer to Kamukura's chest, Naegi pondered how it must feel to live such a life. He was finding himself rather upset by the prospect. 

Even if Kamukura didn't feel any human emotions, and his strength was beyond human, Naegi could hear his heart beating softly in his chest. There was no doubt about the fact he was human beneath that cold exterior. 

"You pity me?" Kamukura's tone was rather confused, even curious. 

No matter how much he thought about it, Naegi couldn't understand why exactly that warranted such confusion. "I… guess?" 

"Even though I bear every talent known to man?" 

Naegi shrugged. "It's lonely at the top."

Looking away, Kamukura took a moment to turn the phrase over in his mind. "You're quite intriguing, Naegi Makoto. Taking pity on terrorists and murderers. I wonder, what exactly led you down this treacherous path?" 

"H-huh? It's just common human decency…" As he stammered away, Naegi found himself fiddling with his hands against Kamukura's back. "You guys were normal teenagers once, it's not fair that you have to die just because your lives also got ruined by Enoshima."

"Many innocent people have died at both our hands and Enoshima's." It confused Naegi how Kamukura could confess such a thing so casually, so stone-faced. "It is only just that we pay for our crimes."

"That's why it should end here!" Naegi said that a little too loudly, too passionately. He adjusted his tone to be a bit more quiet. "A-And you guys should be allowed to have normal lives too."

Kamukura merely stared blankly ahead, lost in thought. "…You really are just like your sister."

Naegi suddenly gripped the fabric of Kamukura's blazer tightly, pulling himself up a little. "You've met Komaru?!"

"No." The words were curt. "Stop moving."

Naegi was confused enough by the response to decide it was best to stop talking. It seemed his weariness from being on his feet all day was starting to catch up with him, and the warmth from Kamukura's body wasn't helping his situation whatsoever. He allowed his eyelids to rest, relaxing to the tune of Kamukura's heartbeat against his ear and the rock of his movements. 

Kamukura found himself most unimpressed by this new burden. This boy had the audacity to not only break his ankle, but was now steadily shifting into REM sleep in his arms. The worst part was that ridiculously soft expression he was making, blushing slightly even in his sleep.

As Naegi mumbled sleepily, he relaxed his arms, opting to move them away from the other's neck and instead have them wrapped around his torso. Kamukura could rouse the boy, but he wouldn't dare. 

"Napping in the middle of the apocalypse in the arms of a terrorist?" Kamukura whispered to himself. "You truly are strange, Naegi Makoto."

[hitsuackerman]

Unpredictable (Overhaul x Reader) pt.17

a/n: ya’ll~ more flirting happens... >:)

warnings: this cannot be read solo, fluff

Links: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14, part 15, part 16, part 18

Masterlist to my other fics: here :)

Overhaul’s waiting list: @jjk-biased @infinite-universe-love @dirtypride @blackymomo03 @azzie @purple-rabanito​ @meximorrita @awesomeee19​​ @celestial-kanzakii​ @laure-lo​ 

“THAT IS NOT HOW IT WORKS, CHISAKI!” You slammed your fist on the table.

The movie did not turn out well from both of your commentaries. Deciding on something else to do, you asked if he had ever played other board games aside from Shogi. When he answered he knew a few, you quickly went to the guest room and took out a few. There was a short debate as to what game to play, but the two of you settled with Monopolize.

“Of course it is.” He showed you his properties. “I get to purchase what I want, is that not the rule?”

“Well, yeah, but YOU DON’T NEED THAT PROPERTY!” You were a card away before being able to purchase a house. Underestimating his Monopolize skills, you found yourself struggling with the properties and money.

“Oh, but I do if I want to beat you.” He reached for the bag of chips and munched on a few. Seeing how you were slowly becoming bankrupt was rather fun. When he saw the way you began to think of ways to bring yourself back up, he had to admit it was pretty. “Just go to jail.”

“I intend to purchase more lots with my remaining money…” Throwing the dice, the both of you stopped breathing when you rolled an 8. Smirking at the result, you happily passed Go and earned 200. But your happiness faded when you landed on his property with 3 houses.

“Pay up.”

“Fuck you and your houses.” You took a thick amount of bills and coins. “I feel so cheated.”

“First off, that’s a different version of Monopolize. Second, I do not cheat when it comes to board games.” He took the money and arranged it. “And third, you simply suck at this game.”

“Okay. First, you basically do this as a yakuza. Second, I do not suck at this game. I’m just at a disadvantage. And third…”

“Third?” It was clear you ran out of reasons.

“How bout we team up on some properties, ey?” Once again you gave him finger guns. You winced and widened your eyes when you realized he threw chips at your face. “Did you just throw food at me?!”

“No. That was your bankruptcy I threw at you.” Catching the pillow you threw at him, he caught it effortlessly. Smirking at your lame attempt, he threw the pillow back at you. “Lame.”

“I will not hesitate to cuff you to the sofa, you trashy bird.”

“I can easily overhaul and escape. You’re merely wasting effort.”

“Is that a challenge?” You stood up and placed your hands on your waist.

“It may be.” He stood up as well and took a step closer to you.

“I’ll give you 10 seconds to run.”

“You have them ready?” He stared at the coffee table and searched for any drawers that could hold cuffs. Watching you bend over and reach for something, he took a playful step back when a pair of quirk suppressing cuffs were now in your hands. Not wasting time, he turned around only to be followed by you.

The chasing went on for about 15 minutes. Going in and out of rooms, bumping on furniture, overhauling pillows thrown at him (followed by incoherent cursing), and a few slips from both of you, the unit was a mess. One particular slip made you loosen your grip on the cuffs. Overhaul was about to turn and help till he realized he could turn things around. Manipulating the ground, you watched as the cuffs shot into the air and landed on his glove free hand.

“Yeah… I think the point has been proven that I’m weak compared to you.” You were now the one who took a step back. The mischievous glint in his golden eyes sent shivers down your spine. When he took a step forward, you turned 180 degrees and made a run for it.

Jumping and avoiding the mess of each overhauled item, you were now cornered into the wall. No where else to go, you stood ground and watched as he twirled the cuffs around his finger.

“You’re not even out of breath.” Overhaul praised you. Not that he was but the chase was rather, dare he say, fun.

“I chase people like you for a living. I have to be fit.” Swallowing your saliva, you could feel your knees growing weak with how dangerously close he was now. Not finding the strength to look him in the eye, you focused on the floor.

“You didn’t answer my question from before.” He placed his palm on the wall and leaned in closer. “Why do people like touching other people? It’s plain filthy and the amount of germs being exchanged makes me want to puke.”

“It provides them a sense of comfort and belonging.” You shrugged. Well aware that you were now pinned to the wall. Making eye contact with him, you began to chew on your lower lip. Not bothering to activate your quirk, you felt your cheeks heating up from the closeness you two had.

Placing his other hand on the wall, Overhaul took in the view of your flustered self. Checking to see if he had any hives, he was more than pleased with their absence. Inching his way even closer, he felt your hot breath brush his face.

With the tip of his nose, he began to trace your jaw and cheek. Leaning on his elbow, he lowered his other hand. His index finger began to trace an imaginary line down your arm.

“You know,” He whispered in your ear. “It’s amazing how you don’t question my motives.”

“I-I’m just keeping my end of the bargain.” It’s a miracle you were still standing. Having him this close to you made you want to just grab him and devour his lips. Of course, you knew it was wrong knowing both of you were still professional but… it is outside work hours and he said there was no need for formalities. “Chisaki?”

“What is it, my little guilty pleasure?”

Do you bite back? Should you respond? If you did, then what if he’d back up all of a sudden due to cooties and shit? But you were literally pinned to the wall and if this wasn’t suggestive enough, you weren’t exactly sure what he was after. When the tip of his nose traveled to your cheek once more, you dared look at his eyes again and let out a shaky exhale.

“Imma be honest. Are we on the same page?”

“Are my actions not clear enough?” He was now directly in front of you. Taking a step closer, both your chests were touching. All it took was for him to lean down and the rest would be history.

“In my defense,” Your eyes fell to his lips and back to his sharp golden orbs. “You are an antisocial sociopath and anything can run through your head.”

“Is that what you cops label me?”

“Yes.”

“Can’t blame them.”

“True.”

“Problem child.”

“Birdman.”

Fixing his posture, Overhaul smirked at the yearning expression you gave him. Turning around, he looked at the mess the both of you made during the little cat and mouse game. Peaking over his shoulder, he watched as you recomposed yourself. The red tint on your cheeks made you glow.

That would have been the perfect chance to know why humans craved to be touched. Yet, tonight was not the night. Your response was enough for him to know that when the time comes, you would surely cave in and give him the answer he wants.

“Your unit is a mess.” He walked towards the table and stared at the deformities surrounding the sofa.

“Well, it wouldn’t have been if a certain someone didn’t use his quirk.”

“I am not the one who started the little fiasco.”

“Can you please overhaul things back to the way they were?” Your shoulders slumped. The game pieces were nothing but the floor and some parts of the sofa had been damaged. With the adrenaline from before dying down, you felt exhausted from the day’s events.

Noticing your change of aura, he reached for his mask and kneeled to the floor. Using his quirk, he overhauled things back to the way they were. Relief evident on your face, he felt good knowing he was the cause.

“You look tired. I should go.”

“Yeah. Just give me a minute and I’ll drive you back.” You said as you picked up the money and board. “And I will not take no for an answer. I brought you here. It’s my responsibility to bring you back.”

“They might see you and raise their suspicions.” He retorted. “We aren’t supposed to be seeing each other until two months from now.”

“Do I look like I care?” He merely blinked his response. Covering the box, you stood up and gestured for him to follow you towards the door. “Technically speaking, I’m still part of the case. Nao is just taking my absence. Besides, Levi made it clear that none of them were to meddle with the Fukuo Kai case.”

His eye twitched at the name. That same man had been sleeping in the same area as you.

“What was your business with Ackerman?”

“Oh. Well, he was supposed to help me in the Arson case I was working on. But the HPSC took over and Erwin said he was needed back at his precinct so it was short lived.” Should you use Levi’s name? He wasn’t around and there was no way his quirk could reach you from this distance. “Kinda sucks he’s not here though.”

“How unfortunate.”

“Ah well~” You locked your doors and the both of you were now inside the elevator. “Dating him for a couple of years, it makes my apartment seem empty. He was good company to have.”

Silence engulfed the two of you as you made your way to the car. Observing his eyes, they were steering clear from yours. If this was jealousy or anger, you couldn’t tell but getting some sort of reaction from him was more than you could bargain for.

Regret came seeping in when you were now turning left. The entire car ride, he was silent and not even you had the guts to break the ice. When the house was in sight, you parked the car and locked the door before he could even open it.

“Did I say something wrong?�� You challenged him.

“Not at all.”

“Then why are you silent?”

“None of your business.” He unlocked the door only to have you lock it again.

“If you’re pissed about Ackerman,” You saw how his eye twitched. “Then I’m more than happy to say I don’t see him in that way anymore. We just, you know, managed to fix things real good.”

“I didn’t ask for an explanation.”

“Look at you all whiny~” You poked his shoulder. “I like someone else. Just in case you want to know.”

“Unlock the door before I break this.” Seeing how the locks flipped, he opened the doors and slammed it shut. Not bothering to look back, he made his way towards the gate and entered.

“Great.” You mumbled to yourself as you left the area. “Way to ruin the night, (y/n).”

Three days had passed since the little fiasco you two shared. During those days, not a single text or missed call from him. Though, it wasn’t surprising knowing you were currently off the case and that you were now on your way to Sir Nighteye’s Agency for a meeting. Fixing yourself in the mirror, you found your thoughts wandering to what had happened.

Being pinned to the wall by a Class-B Villain was something you had never dreamed about. Heck, taking personal interest with one never really crossed your mind. It just had to be with a yakuza boss who seems to be taking a liking to you that made things start. Why couldn’t it have been someone like Gentle or even just those random ass one’s?

Still, having his face inches away from  yours made your stomach feel tingly and face red. Hell, you even cursed yourself for not taking a screenshot of his shirtless self.

‘You and your useless brain!!’ Gei screamed when you relayed what had transcribed between you two. ‘BABY GIRL! You just lost the opportunity to seize that man!’

Banging your head on the wheel, you groaned and had a mini seizure. Taking the files and your bag, you made your way to the building. Greeted by Deku and Mirio, all three of you went up the stairs and small talked about life in UA. Or quirks.

“What’s your quirk, (l/n)-san?” Deku asked enthusiastically as he readied his notebook and pen.

“I’m not really sure what to call it.” You scratched your nape. Ever since you were a child, you never really bothered branding your quirk with some flashy name. Blood Pressure manipulation was too long. At times, you could control the flow of one’s blood circulation but not to the point where it could be branded as Blood Manipulation. It probably could have evolved into that but you strayed away from the hero courses offered.

Explaining your quirk, you watched as Deku scribbled notes and nodded his head. Asking questions every now and then as well. It felt odd having an interrogation about your quirk but you were more than willing to answer his queries.

“(Y/N)!” Fatgum yelled from across the hallway. Arms open wide for a hug.

“Fatgum!” Being wrapped in his big arms was always comfortable. “How’s the agency? Looking a little less round today.”

“Agency is doin’ well~ Tamaki here is showing a lot of potential to become my sidekick!” He slapped the back of the elf like boy who merely lowered his head and covered his blushing face. “Kirishima’s also kicking ass as well!”

The small conversations continued till all of you were now seated inside the meeting room. With Nighteye seated in the center, you listened as he began the meeting.

“Today, we have some good updates. I managed to come in contact with a man who worked under the Shie Hassaikai. He was out doing an errand Overhaul probably tasked him to do.” Taking out a rather large box, all of you stared at the child’s obnoxiously pink toy. “It was a risk but I managed to see how to get into his base. The needed combination to access the underground facility.”

You hated being in this room. Each passing minute dragged on. It felt wrong having to hear out what the heroes were saying all while wishing the best for the man they were planning to capture. When Nighteye gave the new timeframe, it was exactly a month from the Fukuo Kai stake out.

“Are there any questions?” NIghteye asked. Adjusting his glasses, he focused on your side of the table. “Suggestions?”

Seeing as there were none, the meeting was adjourned.

“(l/n)-san, may I have a word?” He spoke before you could stand.

Nodding farewell to your friends, you took the seat close to the pro-hero and motioned for him to begin. Observing as he took out a small contraption from his breast pocket, you swallowed a ton of saliva when he placed it on the table.

“I know Ackerman specifically mentioned not to meddle with your case, but this is all I ask of you.” Pushing the small object near you, he waited for you to hold on to it. When you did, he proceeded. “This isn’t much but would it be alright if you plant this somewhere in his office?”

“Sir Nighteye.” You activated your quirk to calm your nerves. “As much as I’d like to help, I’m currently off the case and the last time I visited the Shie Hassaikai was weeks ago.”

“Tsukauchi has relayed the news that in two months, you two will be working together.” He paused and leaned on the back rest. “Or was that just false information?”

“With all due respect, Overhaul’s trust in me is as fragile as any glass could get. If he were to find out that I bugged him the case might be put to jeopardy.”

“That’s why you should plant it once your case is finished.”

“Pardon?”

“As much as possible, we want this case to be finished with. The sooner we can get to Eri-chan, the better. However, if we cannot get a glimpse as to how their operations truly run and what goes on in that head of his, this whole situation would take longer.” Not once did he let go of your eye contact. “I made sure to pattern the raid with your case to ensure higher chances of success.”

“Well, in that case, I simply have to hold on to this until my case with him closes.?”

“Exactly. But, if you can bug him even earlier it would be of much help.”

“And what if he finds out?”

“By the time he will, the raid would have already happened.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Those were the safest words you could say with confidence. “Is that all?”

“Yes. Thank you for the time.”

Gathering your things, you made your way out of the room. The chip resting snugly on your clenched fist. Thankful that he didn’t touch you in anyway, you avoided the crowded hallways and slipped past the exit. Brisk walking all the way to your car, you immediately locked the doors and checked if the device was off.

Taking a small box from the compartment, you placed the burden inside.

Massaging your temples, you rested your head on the steering wheel and cussed. No matter how careful you were, the heroes always managed to be two steps ahead. Remembering what Hawks said, it was harder to be three steps in front of them.

“I fucking hate set ups.” You mumbled before starting your car and headed to the precinct.

As if the day couldn’t get any worse, the chief was standing by your cubicle when you arrived. The same smug look on his face indicated he was updated with the meeting and knew perfectly well what you had to do.

“How was the meeting, (y/n)?” He leaned on the partition with his arms crossed over his chest.

“It went rather well but I am not in the mood to handle whatever fuckery you have instore for me today.” You snapped back. Louder than intended, the whole area went silent and stared at both of you.

“That is no way to speak to your commanding officer, (l/n).”

“Oh yeah? Well sorry to say that I don’t give a shit, Yokai-kun.” You weren’t done. “Or should I say, chief.”

“We are in the precinct, (l/n). If you cannot handle whatever emotion you are lashing out, feel free to step outside.”

“Thank you for the offer.” Grabbing your needed folders, you stuffed them into your bag and faced the enraged chief once more. “Oh and by the way, you smelling like a vegetable is revolting. So the next time you invade my personal space AND private life, you’ll be hearing an ambulance.”

Flicking him off, you stormed out of the precinct and found yourself in the car once more. The whole ordeal lasted no more than 10 minutes. The only good thing to happen was you gave that asshat a chunk of your mind. For sure, 5 cases would land on your desk by tomorrow.

A knock on your window made you jump on your seat. Unlocking the door, you watched as Tsukauchi took the passenger’s seat. A cup of tea in his outstretched hand. Accepting it, you gulped the beverage and let out a sigh.

“Rough day?”

“A bit.”

“How was the meeting with Nighteye?”

“It went smoothly. Things are picking up nicely.” That was the truth. The cold hard truth.”If things turn out well, they might succeed in capturing Overhaul.”

Nodding at your statement, Tsukauchi began to tap his index finger on the window button.

“And that’s alright with you?”

“Of course.” No hesitation on your response.

“Then why be emotional about it?” His voice was even and showed no sign of anger. “It’s unlike you to act out and cause a scene.”

“It’s complicated, Nao.”

“You’re the one whose making things complicated.” His index stopped tapping. “This side you're showing me… only happens when you're caught in a cinch. Adding two and two, there’s only two possible reasons why.” Waiting for you to respond, he was rather shocked that you remained silent. “The first is that you’re secretly working with the Shie Hassaikai with their deeds.”

The small smirk you made was enough to let him furrow his brows.

“What’s the second, Nao?”

“Do I really have to say it?”

If there was one person whom you could fully trust, it had to be the man sitting beside you. Rubbing your face in defeat, a soft and weak chuckle escaped your mouth. He was using his quirk but you were too exhausted to bite back.

“So the worst really happened, huh?” He patted and squeezed your shoulder. Hoping it was enough to calm your rapid thoughts. “Since when?”

“It just happened gradually.” You sighed. “I’m sorry. I lost control and my professionalism along the way.”

“Don’t be.” He ruffled your hair, the most unexpected action ever. “I took it into account knowing Levi and you were a thing. I overlooked the small chance of you harboring feelings for him. I guess in a way, I’m at fault too. This was my case yet I handed it to you.”

“Nah. It’s on my account. I wanted to treat him as a human being to see what he was behind the mask. His charm got to me and I’m just reaping the consequences. You have no fault in this, Nao.”

“If it makes you feel better,” He nodded and chuckled. “I can see why you fell down the rabbit hole. He’s good with words and sociopath tendencies aside, he’s as proper as a gentleman can get. To be honest, I brushed this theory off but when he requested to have you be his partner, it just… stood out.”

“He complimented you. Said you were not a hindrance at all.” You finally smiled at your partner.

“As he should.” He winked.

- - - - -

a/n: haha yall cockblocked yourselves xD i hope ya’ll liked that little kabedon ;) Overhaul’s waiting list is still accepting btw :) feel free to drop a comment or message if you wanna be added :)

[flatsuke]

let me drown in you

Summary: A joke gift from Ota and Baba makes MC discover things about herself that she'd scarcely considered before. To her surprise, she also discovers things about her stoic fiancé.

or, Eisuke Gets Pegged, the fic.

Genre:  Romance, SMUT

Pairing:  Eisuke/MC

Word Count: 4275

a/n: I finally did it. this is filthy, filthy self-indulgence lmao. After months of not writing, I’ve returned with this filth and I sincerely hope you enjoy it lmao

Disclaimer: Please don’t read this if you’re uncomfortable with pegging.

AO3 Link

She was going to kill Ota and Baba.

Staring at MC was the stupid boxed package marked “FRAGILE” in big red letters. She’d thought it was the tea set her mother promised to send back from Japan, but upon opening the box, she was dead wrong.

Inside the box was a distinctly phallic object she surmised was a dildo, and from the looks of it, a high-quality silicone one, too. To her horror, the package also came with a leather harness and a terrifyingly extensive assortment of bottles she was sure was lube.

She’d castrate Ota and Baba for sure.

In the recesses of her mind, she remembered snippets of a conversation earlier that week that involved Ota, Baba, and a not-so-modest amount of alcohol.

“What, so you really think Eisuke would be okay with anything you ask?” Ota said. “Like, anything-anything?”

“M’yeah,” she replied, as if speaking a universal truth despite her inebriation.

“Really now?” Baba’s eyes were twinkling, but she didn’t notice the mischief brewing in them. “He liked the blindfold from our little bet, didn’t he?”

“Mm-hm. Maybe—hic—more than that, too.”

She foolishly thought they’d ignore her drunken babbling like they always did, but of course, they wouldn’t let anything remotely embarrassing slide, especially if it involved Eisuke. God knows those two would always find some way to prod at her and Eisuke’s sex life. The silicone cock in front of her was proof of that.

Shit. She had to get rid of the package before Eisuke got back. It wasn’t as if he’d welcome the sight anyway. The mere implication of Eisuke giving up his control was unheard of.

Liar, a smaller, more impish part of her said. Remember the blindfold.

The blindfold. She’d never forget that night for as long as she lived. The sight of the all-powerful Eisuke Ichinomiya squirming under her—blindfolded—and begging her to let him cum. She rode him till dawn that night, and the sound of her name spilling from his lips like a mantra would always send a hot stab of lust down her spine and god, the idea of being the one inside him—

“I’m home.” His bored voice and the automated beep of their suite door interrupted her thoughts.

Oh, no, no, no. The package was still in on top of the coffee table, and it was only a matter of seconds until he turned around and looked inside the damn thing.

“Welcome home, Eisuke,” she said, lifting the box as casually as she could manage. “I was just on my way to throw this out.”

“And what’s that?” He gestured to the box.

“It’s…well…nothing important.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. Years as a trained businessman meant lying to him was futile, and as transparent as she was, he’d see through her immediately.

“You’re being awfully suspicious,” he said, taking a step closer to her. “What, are those photos of your ex?”

“No! Just—it’s nothing, just let me throw this out, okay?”

Apparently, he wasn’t having it, and her shorter frame was no match for his deft hands swiping the box away from her.

Oh, god, she thought. This is where it all ends.

He stared at the contents with the same unreadable expression he had whenever he gauged his opponents. Her embarrassment morphed into dread when his blank reaction didn’t change the more he looked into the box.

Teasing her would’ve been better than whatever this silent assessment was.

“…Explain.”

God, just bury me alive right now.

“I—I swear, it’s not what you think. Ota and Baba thought it’d be funny to send this over as a joke, and I don’t really see any use for it so—”

“So you don’t want to use it?”

She was expecting him to have her toss out the box because as far as she knew, he’d go on a tirade about “not needing anything but himself” to get her off. In the years they were dating (and now engaged), he’d never once brought up the use of sex toys in the bedroom.

All she could do now was gape at him.

“…What?”

“I’m asking if you want to use it or not.” His eyes were fixed on her with that uncomfortably probing gaze he had whenever he wanted her to be completely honest with him—not that it took much effort on his part, anyway. Damn her honesty.

“…It’s not that I don’t want to use it—it’s just, you know…”

Oh, maybe he’d be disgusted if he knew she wanted to fuck him in earnest. He’d probably cringe at the thought of having someone else inside him, making a mess out of him. There’s no way he’d think of her the same way if he knew she wanted to have her way with him, from the plush softness of his lips, to the curve of his—

“…I don’t know if you’re okay with the idea of—” she said, taking a deep breath, “—me wanting to use it…on you.”

This was it. She’d just let it out in the open, and now he’d be grossed out by the fantasies she’d kept buried in all this time, and he’d be so revolted by her that he’d never want to lay with her again and—

“Ah, god, just forget I said that…” she groaned as she covered her face, not willing to look at him. “Please pretend this never happened.”

“MC.” He didn’t sound angry at her admission. If anything, his tone sounded far gentler than she was expecting. Nonetheless, she didn’t want to take the risk and see the inevitable disappointment on his face.

“Listen, I’d take it all back if I could, so—”

“MC.” His voice was firm as he said her name. She felt him pull her hands away from her face. “Look at me.”

There wasn’t anything on his face that indicated his disgust. Rather, his expression seemed softer than it usually was. His gaze was still intense, but instead of his usual searching glare, his stare was thoughtful.

“Do you really have that little faith in me?”

Did she?

She loved Eisuke with all her being, and she’d do anything to make sure they were both happy—that was an undeniable fact. They’d been through so much together the past few years that she knew nothing could ever break their relationship. Hell, she was kidnapped, drowned, drugged, poisoned, nearly murdered, and none of that did anything to deter her feelings for him.

But sometimes, she still felt like the same scared person she was when she first met him. Always afraid of what other people thought of her, of what he thought of her.

“I assumed you’d, um, hate the idea, so I never really brought it up…”

Even as she fiddled with the two engagement rings on her finger, she was still afraid. He didn’t miss the subtle action as his eyebrows furrowed.

“I’m not someone who gets rattled easily. I already told you before that you never have to hold back with me.”

“I thought most men didn’t like getting…you know.”

“You should know by now that I’m not ‘most men,’” he said while smirking at her. “When I said I was up for anything you wanted, I meant it. Besides, I clearly remember you enjoying the night you blindfolded me.”

Of course she did. Seeing him so debauched at her hands sent her on a high she didn’t know she was capable of having.

“…Anyway, I’m just glad you’re not upset or anything.”

“Why would I be? It just means you want me so badly that you’d want to fuck me instead. I’d never be mad about that.”

She flushed at his casual vulgarity. His bluntness always caught her off guard, and she didn’t know how he could keep a straight face at the idea of her pegging him to high heaven.

“Eisuke!”

“Good to know your reactions don’t lie.” He let out a slight laugh before continuing. “Just let me know when you’re up for it.”

She didn’t know if she’d ever be ready for how he’d always blindside her with his frankness. Still, seeing him so amenable to her wants made her insides shudder with anticipation. Her earlier inhibitions were unfounded; he wouldn’t shy away from her anytime soon, and for that, she was grateful.

“Of course, Eisuke.”

--

It took a few days of mental preparation to get to this point, but she felt like she was finally ready.

They immediately headed for the bedroom once they’d finished their dinner and bath, and with the fervor Eisuke currently kissed her with, she was surprised at the enthusiasm he had.

Not that he was ever apathetic about sex—he initiated about ninety-five percent of the time—but seeing him so eager to let he do what she wanted made tonight feel different.

“Time to take these off, don’t you think?” He said, gesturing to the clothes they still wore. She held back a whine when he pulled back to strip himself.

Eisuke slowly unbuttoned his pajama shirt, and she stared at the show he willingly gave her.

He was always unfairly beautiful. In the dim light of their room, he looked almost ethereal, like he was only human and not some otherworldly being just because the universe missed a beat. No matter how well-tailored his suits were, they always hid how toned his physique really was—right now, only she could see the way the dip of his collarbones led to his firm chest, or the way the ridges of his muscles formed around his stomach.

At times, she’d stop to ask herself if it was okay for her to have all this to herself.

You’re still not good enough for him, a part of her said.

But he’s yours and yours alone, said another part of her.

“I can’t be the only one naked here.” His voice shook her out of her thoughts.

She took the time to strip as well, gingerly pulling her chemise over her shoulders. Even in the dim lighting, she could still feel his heated gaze on her.

Once she was fully nude, he didn’t waste any time pulling her close to him. They grappled as they kissed, nearly wrestling as their desperation threatened to overcome everything else. Like a dance they’d done so many times before, Eisuke let her push him down the bed, letting her take the lead.

She’d straddled him before, but knowing what was coming next sent a shot of lust straight to her core.

“Do what you want to me,” he all but growled at her.

In response, she stroked his cock in with the pace she knew he liked. He was already hard when she gripped him, and she could feel the precum drip from the head. Of course, he was never one to receive without giving, so he reached for her breasts, playing with her nipples until they pebbled from his ministrations.

She supposed that summed up their relationship in a nutshell. They both hated the idea of receiving anything without giving something in return. In turn, they’d do anything to make sure they reciprocated each other as much as possible.

Perhaps they were more similar than she thought.

He bucked into her hand when she pumped him from the base up, and just as he shuddered the same shudder that indicated his undoing, he stopped her.

“That’s—that’s enough of that,” he said, still panting from her handjob. “Time for the main event.”

“Of course.”

She pulled back and got the harness from the nightstand and fastened it around her thighs and ass. The dildo was next, and she fastened it to the harness with the metal clasps. Not once did Eisuke break eye contact with her, and she could’ve sworn she heard his breath hitch the moment she finished putting the dildo on.

She grabbed a bottle of lube from the nightstand before she climbed back into bed to kneel between his legs.

“I’ll start with my fingers. Just…you know…tell me if you want me to stop.”

He stared at her, as if challenging her to stop. Cocky as always.

“You seem like you know a lot about all this,” he said. The unspoken ‘have you done this with anyone else before’ was laced in there.

“I may have…read about it a lot in my free time.” Her cheeks burned at the plain admission that she’d been thinking about this for so goddamn long. “I just want you to feel good, Eisuke. I don’t want to hurt you.”

She’d never forgive herself if she hurt him in pursuit of her own pleasure.

“You could never hurt me,” he said, completely serious. “But alright, I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”

She bent down to give his cock a kiss before applying the lube on her fingers. He tensed when her kisses traveled down to his pelvic area. That only reminded her of the anxiousness bubbling in her the past few days.

“I’m about to put my finger in,” she said. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

Was he nervous? Embarrassed? It was always hard to tell with her stoic fiancé. The man was an incomprehensible enigma when he wanted to be. Then again, she’d never known him to be the hesitant type.

Only one way to go but forward, then.

With one hand slowly pumping his cock, she pressed an oiled finger to his hole, which made him jerk involuntarily as he sucked in a sharp breath.

“Does it hurt? I’ll stop if it does.”

“No—no, just keep going.” He looked back at her as she pet the ring of muscle. “It just feels…strange.”

“Bad-strange?”

“No…just different-strange.” He was always weirdly honest during sex.

From the looks of it, Eisuke didn’t seem to have considerable experience down there, yet he still agreed to her humor her idiosyncrasies. The fact that they even got this far astounded her, especially as the dildo hung between her legs.

She licked her lips. She’d make sure he felt good, the same way he always did for her.

In a swift motion, she took his cock into her mouth and sucked. His hips jerked again, and she took that as a sign of pleasure. From where she knelt, she could tell he was struggling not to screw it all, grab her head, and fuck her mouth with wild abandon—not that she’d mind.

Nevertheless, there was a silent agreement that tonight was about her, and Eisuke Ichinomiya never broke his promises.

She took him even deeper down her throat when she gently pushed a finger inside him. His breathing quickened, and she pushed inside just a tad harder.

“Are you—are you in?” The composure he had earlier was slowly wearing off, if the way he was gripping the sheets was any indication.

“Yeah.”

“…Continue.”

She moved her finger inside, setting a slow rhythm for both of them to get used to.

“Tell me if I’ve found—” she paused for a bit, realizing she was going in this blindly, “the spot.”

“No,” he replied. So there was a spot. She wondered if hitting that spot would feel the same, similar to when he hit hers.

She supposed being breached for the first time was going to be mildly uncomfortable for anyone, even for Eisuke. In high school, she’d lost her virginity to her first boyfriend, and looking back on it now, she didn’t feel particularly good—they were just two teenagers trying to figure out where the hell things were supposed to go. During those days, she realized that touching herself felt eons better than having her ex guess where her hole was. She knew just where exactly to stroke, to touch, and that made her nights a little less dissatisfying.

Hm. If she applied the same rationale she used on herself on Eisuke—curling her finger upward, using a consistent motion—

“Fuck!” Eisuke’s whole body shook, and he looked down at her in a panic. “Do that—hah—again.”

The pride of making him shudder in pleasure from fingering his ass hit her all at once, and with a renewed vigor, she repeated the motion.

He bit his bottom lip as she did so, and she could tell he was still trying to keep some semblance of control by holding his voice back. She’d have to up the ante.

She pulled her finger out, put more lube on her hand, and pushed two fingers inside.

He moaned immediately at the contact, and from her place, she watched in awe as he writhed and squirmed in place. They’d had sex more times than she could count, and she couldn’t recall ever hearing him moan. Pants, yes. Grunts, absolutely. Moans were new, and now she found herself understanding why he’d always encourage her screams in bed.

“Does it feel good, Eisuke?” she asked sweetly, repeating the same question he’d asked her so many times before.

He was never big on verbal confirmation, but his resounding groan put a smile on her face.

One more finger, and she just knew he was close, especially with how his hips were jerking upwards.

But no, she couldn’t have him finish just yet. This was only the beginning. With the way his eyes were focused on hers, she knew he understood.

She removed her fingers from him, and applied the lubricant generously—this time, on the dildo. He watched her intently, and she could just smell the combined anticipation and lust coming from him in waves. She lined the tip with his hole, but didn’t push it inside yet.

“I know I said this earlier, but if you ever get uncomfortable…tell me to stop.”

“How considerate,” he snorted, “coming from someone about to fuck me senseless.”

From years of experience, there was only one thing that could shut him up.

Moving forward, she pressed their lips together and let their tongues sloppily meet. As she did so, she pushed the dildo inside, making him squeal (he’d never admit it, but she heard it loud and clear) into her mouth.

The wet and enticingly lewd noise coming from the dildo in his ass encouraged her to keep going.

“Oh—oh god,” Eisuke gasped, calling out a for a deity she knew he didn’t even believe in.

She continued with a slow pace, especially considering how bigger the toy was compared to her fingers. Her hips thrust against him with that same, uniform pace as he laid on the sheets, his mouth open wide.

She remembered how he paced himself whenever he’d pound into her. Copying Eisuke’s motions, she stopped for a moment—and when he looked up at her in indignation at the absence of the friction, she took advantage of that split second to give him a particularly brutal thrust.

“Ah, fuck—" he choked, not even trying to restrain himself anymore. Her lips curled at the sight of her fiancé below her.

This she could used to. Seeing him utterly debased at her hands sent a hot flash of lust to her gut. Only she was privy to this rarity—his legs were shamelessly spread, his eyes were rolled backwards, and his drool dripped down his mouth—

No wonder he liked being in control.

At any point during this whole ordeal, he could have flipped them both over. He had the strength to do it; he was taller than her by almost a foot, and he was fit enough to match even Soryu’s athleticism. But he didn’t.

He let her do as she pleased with him, and she felt her fondness for him bloom tenfold.

“Tell me you like this,” she said, leaning forward to breathe in his ear.

Eisuke glowered at her, summoning the last vestiges of faux-resistance he had left in him. “D-don’t ask me questions you already know the answer to,” he managed.

She narrowed her eyes at him, noticing the red flush of his heavy cock. It stood proud against his stomach, leaking on the ridges of his muscles. Her gaze moved down to the spot where his hole was stretched tightly around the thickness of the toy. His signature words from before played in her mind.

Your body doesn’t lie, he’d always tell her.

Neither does yours, she echoed back.

She increased the pace of her thrusts, and she knew she hit that spot when his moans turned into whimpers. His entire body shuddered at the sheer anticipation of his undoing.

“…Eisuke,” she said.

“What—"

“You’re doing so well.” She felt him jolt at that.

Eisuke whined and shook against her merciless pounding, but he still found the energy to look back at her. He was past the point of scowling now, his eyes shiny with unshed tears and his lips parted for her. Beneath the absolute depravity of it all, there was a tenderness he tried to hide. But she caught it all the same.

“Eisuke,” she repeated his name with all the warmth she could muster, “I love you.”

That had always been his undoing, and today was no different. Despite how aloof he made himself out to be, he’d always come undone whenever she’d say those three words. It was almost like a secret only they knew—that she held his only weakness and that he enjoyed it.

Eisuke let out one last groan of her name as his entire body spasmed at the force of her words. His cock spilled between them, covering them both with his seed. She’d never seen him cum his hard before, and as she jerked him through his orgasm, his heavy breathing slowed down.

Drained, she pulled out of him, unfastened her harness, and slumped next to him. Eisuke still heaved slightly from the tremors of his intense orgasm, but he wrapped his arms around her the moment he felt her beside him.

It was customary for them to cuddle after sex—provided, neither of them passed out first—and she found that this was her favorite part. Having his arms around her waist as he nuzzled between her breasts was a warm kind of intimacy she’d never tire of. She was sure he felt the same way.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, silently listening to the thumps of their heartbeats move in sync.

“MC,” Eisuke said, finally breaking the silence. “Since I did what you asked, can you do me a favor?”

“Okay. What is it?”

He pulled back to stare at her, smirking as he did so.

“Sit on my face.”

She blinked at him twice. “Um, right now?”

“Yes,” he whispered to her ear, sending another shiver up her body. “It’s only fair I do the same for you.”

She should’ve known than to underestimate his seemingly neverending libido. Letting out a resigned laugh, she moved to position herself to straddle him, making sure both her knees were on both sides of his head.

“God, MC,” he breathed, eyes zeroing in on her glistening cunt, “you’re so wet.”

“…No need for the running commentary.” Her cheeks blazed with heat.

“Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed after what you just did?”

“Hey, now, I—"

She couldn’t finish her sentence when she felt his hands grip her hips to pull her down to his face.

“Eisuke—ah—”

His tongue slipped immediately into her slit, and she rode his mouth, feeling the waves of pleasure emanate from her core.

Whenever he ate her out, he sometimes took his time, making sure she almost reached her peak and stopping right before she clenched on his tongue. Other nights, he ate her out with the fervor of a starving man, desperate to burn the taste of her slick to his memory

Tonight seemed to be leaning towards the latter.

Eisuke sucked on her clit, using his tongue to make small circles on the bundle of nerves. He was a far cry from the man she’d just fucked into submission earlier; this Eisuke was merciless and didn’t stop his ministrations, not even when she could already feel the coil within herself tighten.

“Close…I’m close,” she gasped.

A few more licks and one last suckle, and she pressed herself even further against his face. Her pussy clenched around his tongue, and she absently remembered the soundproof walls of their suite meant she could scream as loud as she pleased.

She felt hot pleasure throb within her and pour onto his face. Eisuke, not one to slow down, lapped up the slick like it was his last meal. In her fuck-dazed mind, she could vaguely feel a jolt, followed by something warm and wet behind her, but she paid it no mind.

Exhausted, she pulled away and laid herself next to him, nuzzling his neck.

Beside her, Eisuke was silent, taking in the intimacy of the moment. Her leg moved to wrap around him when she felt the sticky warmth on his stomach. The gears slowly turned in her head.

“Did you just…” The seed on his stomach was still hot, and considering the sudden jerk she’d felt earlier as she climaxed, was it possible that he—untouched—

“Don’t ask,” he murmured back, his arm moving to cover the blush on his face.

She’d long suspected he got off to her pleasure, and his reaction only proved her right.

Oh, Eisuke, she thought. You don’t have to hide that from me.

At that moment, she felt nothing but pure, unadulterated affection for him. With a smile on her face, she pulled him into her arms, hoping he could feel the same warmth he gave her.

[helisol]

Wait so.. link to this quodo fic you mentioned in your tags?? I’m intrigued :DD

its only an idea but i will HAPPILY ramble about it in detail under this read more because i never finish writing fics but i do love sharing my notes.

they get Pretty Extensive considering this clocked in at 2k words. so strap in.

tl;dr: karaoke night gone wild leads to garashir and quodo setting each other up for holodeck shenanigans

so basically quark has acquired a karaoke program. everyone on ds9 is going mad about it and it's keeping the holosuites booked out for weeks

the main squad decides to try it out and they just jam to a mix of human, klingon and bajoran music. but lets be real it's mostly human music because i have a mighty need to see captain benjamin sisko tear up the dancefloor to Earth Wind & Fire’s September. so sue me.

anyway everyone has to sing, even odo, even garak and they all have a blast. the only person who is notably absent is Quark because Quark has a bar to run and Quark can't indulge in mindless fun activities when he has money to make.

Unless… Odo challenges him and he has to prove that Odo is wrong.

so yeah quark checks on the gang to see how they like this “Hooman Kara-oke” and if he can sell them some drinks and everyone is like “hey you should sing. just one song. we won't even laugh about your bad ferengi singing! we promise!"

and quark is about to say "ferengi voices arent that bad. im still not gonna sing tho."

but odo is ahead of the game and insults his grating voice and how it could only be worse in song. and because this is quark he’s like “actually fuck you. now I WILL sing.”

so he snatches the mic from whoever was about to go next and fucking Crushes It. 

while odo starts Looking Respectfully everyone else is just going "woooooo! go quark!" which makes quark just get even more into it

Takes His Jacket Off, Drops It On The Floor, Dances With The Microphone Stand. The Works. and he's also enjoying himself like "haha! suck it odo! i'm a good performer, it's how I make money!"

until he actually looks at Odo and Odo is Looking Back and then he’s like “wait what the fuck why is he looking at me” and Promptly Messes Up A Step And Falls Off The Stage-

so now quark has a twisted ankle and julian has to take him to the infirmary, which bums out quite literally Everyone and the gathering disperses, leaving only Garak and Odo.

garak as we know is but a simple tailor, but he’s Observant and his little lizard eyes did spy odo looking at quark and making the soup-version of heart eyes. we also know he is the gayest bicth on this station so of course he’s going to poke and prod at odo to see how he reacts.

garak waits until everyone is out of the room and asks odo if he can walk the dear constable home to the ol’ bucket. because odo looked a little melty during quark’s performance, y’know. it’d be bad if he turned into soup on the promenade.

odo denies this, of course, so garak is like “oh great then we can have a Chat :)”

and odo goes "wait no i hate talking” but then they’re in garaks shop and drinking kanar and garak is getting drunk off his lizard ass and talking about Julian because, again, he IS THAT BITCH!

meanwhile in the infirmary, Julian is trying to take care of quark’s ankle, but since he’s nosy and kinda Knows that quark wouldn’t just mess up his steps for no reason he asks about that.

and quark loudly goes “NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS JUST FIX MY DAMN ANKLE-”

which of course turns the nosyness up to 11 and has julian going 👀

"no i mean uh- i was distracted" "distracted? by what?" "nothing" "distracted by nothing?" "FIX. MY. ANKLE."

so julian sits him down on a biobed and gets whatever medical thingie fixes ankles in the 24th century. and while he does that he offers quark some wine to loosen the tongue about what made him slip.

anyway one thing leads to another and before you know it quark and julian are wine-drunk sitting on the infirmary floor and talking about garak. which suits quark just fine because it means he doesn’t have to admit he fell because odo was looking at him like he just revealed all the secrets of the universe along with his bare arms when he took off his jacket.

so we have two sets of gay idiots getting drunk in two locations and the next morning two sets of gay idiots have hangovers. yes odo gets a hangover. being soup does not exempt him from it.

julian and odo do the right, logical thing and take some meds to go to work and be productive and garak shows up in the bar to fight fire with fire and finds quark Already Doing That. 

so they just sit next to each other, beating their hangovers with more alcohol, and they get to talking.

garak goes on about how he took odo home and pretty much only talked about julian all night and quark is like “wow what a coincidence, the doctor and i only talked about you all night.” 

and it's all downhill from there because basically quark and garak just figured out that the garashir pining is Mutual.

"wait, julian was looking at me???" "yes." "AND I WAS LOOKING AT JULIAN-" "Yes."

and then they hash out this elaborate scheme to trap julian and garak in one of the Spy holosuite programs until they make out. this is garak and quark planning. how could they NOT make an elaborate scheme involving holosuites.

anyway i promised quodo so i will keep the ‘garashir makes out in the holosuite’ section a lil more brief

so within the next two days these two gay bitches whip up a new “The Adventures Of Agent Bashir” program, but quark has ‘adjusted’ the program a little so that it only ends when the main characters kiss. fun stuff.

garak and julian go through the program, havin a blast being spies, but at the end garak’s character gets “shot”, and they are so immersed in the story that julian is Actually Concerned and garak Actually Acts like he's in pain.

they kiss, the program ends, and garak- not actually shot- goes “haha gotcha, you wanted to kiss me before i died” 

so they walk out the holosuite one hour after their time is already up with a lot of hickeys and untied bowties. hooray.

But That’s Not What We’re Here For.

after garak and julian come down from the high of getting together julian asks Just How and Why quark would agree to help with this. quark Never helps Unless he’s helping himself.

and they realised Quark Has Played Them Like Cheap Kazoos. he just wanted to take attention away from himself and the unanswered question of why he suddenly fell off the stage.

so they go "wait, if odo and quark were both lying and obscuring facts and being weird about this, doesn't that mean- ohhh"

and it boils down to them deciding to help those poor fuckers because they are apparently off even worse than they were in terms of mutual pining.

they also hash out an elaborate scheme. this time it involves odo’s never ending hard on for finding reasons to throw quark into jail.

since quark technically violated the holosuite rules by locking garak and julian in there garak goes over to odo to report the “Crime”

after some back and forth about Why In The World Garak, Friend And Tailor, would report a crime to odo that doesn’t affect anyone’s safety Odo heads to the bar to investigate the holosuites and if there really was criminal activity.

he doesn’t ask quark for permission, mostly because he’d never ask permission to snoop around in quark’s property but also because quark is actually not there at the moment. for Some Reason he’s being held up in the infirmary. Weird.

so odo is looking through the holosuite recordings of the last few days, and he runs through what garak said was the illegal activity of locking them in there and just goes "Ah, alright, i can throw him in a holding cell for that.” but then he sees a message left by garak.

it was apparently left there today so garak must have prepared this which means something is afoot. and the message just reads "the karaoke session was recorded and you might wanna check what Actually™ made quark trip :)"

to which odo reacts with "hmph. why should i care. maybe hes just messing with me and quark tripped over a cable." but Odo looks at it anyway. respectfully.

and he watches the whole performance up until the point where quark falls. Multiple Times. until he remembers that this is a criminal investigation and he finally looks at the part where he falls from quark’s perspective, which is the important one.

and he just. looks right at himself. looking at quark.

and holy shit. he looked at him like he was going to shove him against a wall, not to beat him up, but to make out with him. he straight up looked like he was going to mess him up but not with his fists.

so he stands right in front of quark and replays that moment to see quark’s reaction and analyse how he fell. and sure enough quark Saw Him and his knees gave out.

after that he really just wants to walk out and spend the next 30 hours as a houseplant to cleanse his mind of any quark-related thoughts but uh oh. when he opens the holosuite door Quark Is Right There.

and odo panics and just pulls him inside, accidentally re-initiating the spy program.

“But how did Quark happen to be there at just the right time?” i hear you ask well it was OUR MAN BASHIR

while garak was at odos place telling him to investigate quark’s wrongdoings, quark himself got called to the infirmary for a check-up on his twisted ankle.

and julian kept him there, examining his ankle over and over, until garak came in to Insinuate that Someone is snooping around in the holosuites.

so quark, yelling "NO COPS IN MY BAR", hurries over to the holosuites on his totally fine ankle and bada bing bada boom, here we are.

with two idiots stuck in a locked holosuite.

odo is like "QUARK WTF" meanwhile quark is like "ODO WTF"

"YOU LOCKED US IN A HOLOSUITE" "NO YOU LOCKED US IN A HOLOSUITE" ”well it was you who pulled me in here" "but it was you who designed it like this"

anyway to get out they have to go through the program somehow. quark and garak programmed this very carefully. unless they follow the general story, there’s no way out.

and at first quark says "listen, its okay, we just have to kiss" to which odo replies with that kinda look you’d get from someone if you told them to swallow a cactus whole, for fun.

"you heard me" "quark if this is a joke-" "its not. i made rom pull an all nighter to put in the new sensors." "you paid him for this???" "no." "right of course."

and after a very quick cheek kiss doesn’t end up doing the trick the two actually go through the program properly. except quark knows the script, cheats a little, takes shortcuts and totally doesnt impress odo by shooting a few hologram guards on the way.

so they get to the end, where they believe odo is supposed to get “shot”, but turns out they mixed up the roles and quark is the one who gets shot.

And Odo Doesn’t Know. The Safeties. Are. On.

so he tearfully goes "WAIT NO- QUARK!" and quark is like "odo...odo come closer..."

"yes, quark?"

"kiss me"

"quark please dont die i'll kiss you and we'll beam you straight to the infirmary and-" "ODO JUST KISS ME"

and then they kiss. the holosuite controls unlock and quark thinks ‘oh great, now we can leave-’ but odo doesnt stop kissing him

and he doesn’t Stop kissing him until quark actually speaks up and has to go "HEY IF THIS WERE REAL I’D BE DYING BY NOW-"

"what?" "the safeties are on. I didn’t get shot. you just had to kiss me to unlock the controls-"

and odo is like "QUARK"

and quark is like "ODO"

and then odo gets up and is very convinced that he Must Turn Into A Houseplant For A Ferengi Lifespan To Atone For His Sins.

but quark says “no, wait. can you do it again?”

"yelling at you?" "kissing me."

anyway odo finally gets to fulfill his fantasy of pushing quark against a wall and quark finally gets kissed by odo like hes dreamed of for like 15 years or however long ago it was that they were first on terok nor together during the cardassian occupation.

the end.