#and of course this extends to White Feelings and how that interacts with the system as a whole in keeping brown people away from resources

[karmaphone]

why is it so hard for ableists to accept that there is no support network for those that are not well liked, that resources are withheld or deemed nonexistent if they are considered unpleasant or rude or just unlikeable, and that fact legitimately results in peoples deaths

[inkykeiji]

i can take you there but baby you won’t make it back

character: dabi | todoroki touya

notes: stepcest (kind of—ur parents aren’t married yet) with dabi-as-touya x a very naïve and inexperienced reader, normal!AU (no quirks, dabi also has tattoos over his scarred + fully healed skin), university!reader, implied yakuza!dabi, excessive use of the words niichan and good, praise kink, fingering, face fucking, title credit = save that shit by lil peep lmao  uhhhh yeah i hc dabi as a very intelligent and perceptive individual soooo i feel like he’d be a master at reading a person & their emotions and then adapting his manipulation techniques

warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), noncon/dubcon, slight somnophilia, emotional manipulation, toxic relationship, size difference, slight degradation, mentions of drug use

words: 7.1k

part 2.1 | part 2.2

synopsis:

“You want to be good for me, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Of course,” you respond instantly. Later, when you lay awake in your bed, you’ll feel ashamed by your actions, by how readily captivated you were with him, by how easily he was able to manipulate you with those sapphire eyes and that rough voice—

But in that moment, you’ll do anything to pull that little smile from him, anything to hear him tell you you’re good. You just want to be good.

Something dark and primal flashes in those gorgeous eyes as they gaze down at you, a small grin spreading across his face. “Of course,” he repeats softly.

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Your dad’s been dating Rei for a while—nearly a year, now—when things begin to get serious, and he proposes to her.

She accepts, so it’s not exactly a surprise when she suggests you guys move in with her—she’s got more than enough space, she tells you, it’s just her and her son in that big old house—and your dad seems pretty thrilled about it. This was the next step before marriage, after all.

You like Rei well enough, she’s always been nothing but sweet to you, and anyway, your father’s relationship really isn’t any of your business or concern.

It isn’t that you don’t want to move in with her—her house is in a better part of the neighborhood, a standard detached upper-middle class home, and just a short walk from a bus stop that’ll take you directly to university, which you start in a week.

It’s just…You’re a little apprehensive.

You know she has kids. She mentions them in passing every once in a while, but you can’t for the life of you remember their names, or their ages, or how many of them there are. You know they don’t all live with her, that her relationship with her ex-husband is complicated and rocky at best.

But you’re still surprised to hear that only one of them, her eldest, lives with her. She tells you he’s five years older than you are, that he’s a clever, smart boy, going off on a tangent about how disappointed she is that he didn’t go to university, because ‘he would’ve done so well—he could’ve shone so brightly.’ Something about the way she says that, the way her voice sounds almost sad, makes anxiety turn to lead in your stomach. She talks about him as if he’s already a lost cause, but he’s only in his mid-twenties, isn’t he?

You understand the moment you see him. The man standing in front of you as you shift from foot to foot unsurely in the foyer of this unfamiliar house is about as far from what you anticipated as he could possibly be.

He’s tall, skin pale as moonlight, with jet black hair and the most stunning blue eyes you’ve ever seen. But that isn’t what captivates you. It isn’t the lip ring curled around his bottom lip snuggly, and it isn’t the tongue piercing you’re about to find out he’s hiding in his mouth, either.

Every inch of the exposed skin of his arms is covered in intricate, seamlessly flowing tattoos—or, for a moment, you thought it was tattoos, plural. Upon closer inspection, you realize that each arm is actually covered in one giant tattoo, giving a new definition to the term ‘sleeve’. It’s all black ink, not a splash of colour anywhere, depicting an extremely detailed and anatomically correct mechanical arm, complete with what would’ve been joints, ligaments and bones in the form of wires and steel.

The tattoos extend onto the tops of his hands, made to look as if surgical staples are peeling his skin back to reveal the robot beneath. This same tattoo continues up his neck, along his jaw and onto his cheeks, all the way to his bottom lip, spreading across his entire face and disappearing into his hairline and onto his ears. Finally, there’s a small portion of the tattoo underneath his eyes, the surgical staples lining the edges of the face tattoos, too.

It startles you—you’re not necessarily scared, you just…weren’t expecting that. But there’s no denying the rush of breath that involuntarily escapes your lips as your eyes search his face, raking over his body in a brazen way that should make you feel shameful, travelling back up to find him smirking smugly at you, raising an eyebrow as your eyes meet again.

The look in his eyes tells you he knows, knows what you’re thinking about, knows how undeniably attracted you are to him, and scalding heat floods your cheeks.

He chuckles a little, which does nothing but add insult to injury, and sharp anger slices through your chest at the way that you stomach absolutely drops at his gravelly voice. You can’t believe yourself, can’t believe your body is reacting and responding so readily to this man—this stranger.

He introduces himself as Touya, in that rough, deep voice that forces a jolt of electricity to run through your veins. You idly wonder what your name would sound like on his tongue, how it might sound if his voice dropped to a growl, find yourself stuck thinking about this for the rest of the night.

✰          ✰          ✰          

To your disappointment, and as much as you are unabashedly interested in him, you don’t interact much with Touya for your first few weeks in the house—in fact, you barely see him at all.

This only piques your curiosity about him more, finding that you’re unable to tear your eyes from him on the rare occasion that you are in a room together. He catches you staring every single time, and he has the audacity to chuckle to himself and shake his head when his gaze meets yours, your eyes quickly darting away and cheeks burning at his laugh.

You begin gathering little tidbits of information about him, purely sourced from interactions you witness in the house, desperately praying for something that’ll give you an opportunity to start a conversation with him.

Your efforts prove fruitless when, almost a month and a half since you moved in, you’ve still only spoken a handful of words to him. You do learn a bit about him through observing, though.

You discover that he’s a smoker, which really doesn’t come as a shock at all. Marlboro’s are his favourite, and he’s always got a pack in his back pocket or rolled up in the short sleeve of his t-shirt. He must have them imported—Marlboro’s are incredibly rare to find all the way in Japan.

Touya must have a lot of things imported.

You find out that every other Thursday, Touya discreetly stuffs an absurdly large wad of cash—all composed of ten-thousand-yen bills—into his mom’s hands, forcing her fingers to curl around it. She fights him on it, every time, but he’s firm and adamant that she take it. It always ends with Rei giving him a small, watery smile, Touya pressing a kiss against the side of her head and murmuring that he loves her.

After you witness this interaction for the first time, you begin to notice that, while the house looks relatively normal on the outside, it is stuffed full of luxury on the inside. Flat-screen TVs each complete with full entertainment systems, state of the art appliances that are somehow up to date with all of the latest trends (including a smart fridge—absolutely ridiculous), custom made furniture, ornate rugs, a housekeeper that drops by every Sunday…

You have no idea what he does for work, but you think you’ve got at least some sort of idea when you catch him one night, just past 2AM, exiting his room and using a thumb to brush excess white powder off his nose. His eyes catch yours, pupils blown and shining in the low light, and he smiles darkly at you, winking once as he walks away.

You don’t ask—no one ever does.

You don’t ask about the crimson splattered on the toe of his boot, or why he sometimes smells metallic, like copper, the strong scent wafting after him and invading the halls as he stalks leisurely toward the bathroom. You don’t ask why he leaves the house at odd hours in the night, and you definitely don’t ask about the soft clinking and clicking you hear through the thin walls every so often while he cleans his gun at 3AM.

You’re not sure if it’s really any of your business, anyway. So you stay quiet, and continue to wait.

The opportunity finally comes one Wednesday in October, two weeks before Halloween, when you’re in the kitchen after school busy fixing yourself an afternoon snack. Touya comes home uncharacteristically early—you rarely see him before 10PM, so his entrance scares you, and you jump a little.

“Sorry,” he murmurs as he passes by behind you, just an inch too close, just enough so you can feel his body heat radiating off of him.

“It’s fine,” you say quietly, shaking your head a little and trying in vain to stop your hands from trembling as you spread peanut butter across a piece of bread.

You can feel his eyes on you, and it makes you nervous, makes your skin crawl in a way you’ve never felt before. He laughs a little at your struggling, leaning against the counter next to you and crossing his arms over his chest.

“You don’t have to be so nervous around me, y’know,” he says with a smirk, eyes glittering at the way your lips part in surprise, your breath stuttering a little. “I’m your niichan after all, aren’t I?”

You hadn’t even considered using the honorific until he himself uses it.

Your hands freeze, hovering over your plate, and you look over at him slowly. “You…Want me to call you that?”

“You can, if you’d like,” he says smoothly, nonchalantly, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. It makes no difference to him, he tells you, but when he finally looks back at you, you think you can see it in his eyes—a sharp, small glimmer of…of something. Something that makes your stomach twist in a way you can’t decide if you like or not.

But this is it, you think, this is your opening to finally begin talking to him.

So you do. And the smirk he gives you the first time you address him by the honorific, voice quivering slightly as you ask him where Rei normally keeps the blender, is nothing short of predatory.

“It’s on the top shelf. It’s too high for you, though,” he says, voice so sickly sweet it almost sounds mocking. “Let niichan get it for you,”

It isn’t, but you let him get it for you anyway.

And he knows—knows he’s got you the moment you gasp at the honorific leaving his lips, trying to hide it behind your hand, nodding quickly and squeaking out a thank you.

It starts after that. He begins playing with you; a sick, perverse game of cat and mouse, hunter and hunted, and you play your part perfectly.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it, if you said it didn’t send wicked sparks of excitement shooting up your spine and an intense fluttering in your stomach.

And it starts slow. It starts with gentle pet names—honey, sweetheart, princess—and fingertips trailing down your arm as he passes you. It starts with a large hand placed on the small of your back, guiding you—out of the house and into his car, out of the kitchen and into the living room, out of the hallway and into his bedroom—and with little pecks on your lips stolen when no one’s watching, quick kisses that leave you feeling exhilarated despite their chastity.

Suddenly, he’s home a hell of a lot more. He’s sitting too close to you on the couch while you curl up with a textbook, his thigh pressed against you and flesh burning hot through his black jeans. He’s joining the family dinner a few times a week, idly hooking and unhooking his ankle with yours beneath the table while smirking at you from across it.

Suddenly, he’s asking you if you need a ride to school, or if you need someone to pick you up. You don’t, you tell him, the bus is just fine, but he insists. It’s what niichans do, he says. He wants to take care of you, he says.

Who are you to deny him that, really?

✰          ✰          ✰          

The first time you experience Touya angry is about a month after the inciting incident, when he catches you walking home with a few of your university friends.

He had texted you earlier that day, telling you that he—very regretfully, he said—would be unable to pick you up from school this afternoon because ‘something had come up’.

You didn’t question what it was—you knew he’d lie even if you did. So you accepted it obediently, reassured him that it was fine, that you’d find another way home.

You’re pretty sure if you had told him that you didn’t have any extra change on you for the bus suddenly whatever important thing that had ‘come up’ which so desperately needed his attention wouldn’t be so urgent anymore. But you didn’t want to be a bother, or inconvenience him, so you say nothing.

Two friends decide they’ll accompany you on your walk home, so you aren’t lonely, they claim. Normally, the walk from campus to your house is about thirty minutes, but that day it takes you nearly an hour, wasting time goofing around and walking slowly as you talk idly.

Touya’s already pissed that it’s taken you so long to arrive home, that you’ve ignored all of his extremely considerate texts asking if you’re alright, but when he sees you squished between two boys, giggling as the three of you stumble up your driveway—he’s fucking fuming.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he asks, voice calm and monotonous, leaning casually against the doorframe.

Your head snaps up—you swear he wasn’t there just a second ago—blood running cold.

His stance is relaxed, arms crossed loosely over his chest, lazily raising an eyebrow as your wide eyes meet his. Technically, the only indication that he’s furious is the blazing blue fire in his eyes, but your friends can read the tension in the air surrounding him, shuffling a little closer to you. This minuscule action does not go unnoticed by Touya, sharp jaw clenching once.

“You had niichan worried,”

You’re frozen a few feet away from the porch, unable to find your voice, to move your legs, to breathe at all.

“I didn’t know you had an older brother,”

Your eyes do not leave Touya’s as you speak, the words hoarse. “Oh, we’re—”

“Yeah,” Touya bites, irritation finally bleeding into his voice. “She does,” his eyes float back to yours. “Come here, princess,”

Your body snaps into action, moving automatically before you can even comprehend it, allowing Touya to tuck you into his side the moment you reach him.

Your hands are shaking, but you have no control over them as your fingers curl in his white t-shirt, clinging to him. To your surprise, the arm around your shoulders hugs you closer in response, thumb caressing you.

“Thanks for making sure she got home safely,” he tosses over his shoulder, managing to make the simple sentence sound like an insult, tone bordering on patronizing, while he turns on his heel, marching you both inside.

“I-I’m so sorry,” you’re rushing to say the moment the front door shuts behind you two, Touya’s arm still wrapped firmly around you.

He looks down at you coldly. “Don’t you dare pull shit like that again,” he tells you, eerily calm voice forcing spikes of icy dread up your spine. He pauses for a moment, letting his words sink in as his eyes bore into yours. “You had me worried sick,” he breathes out then, squeezing you again. You’re surprised in the sudden change of tone, feeling your chest swell at the thought of him fretting over you, a small smile gracing your lips.

“I…I did?”

Touya’s eyebrows furrow, as if he’s offended at your questioning, mood morphing in the span of a second. “Of course you fucking did,” he spits like you’re stupid, arm dropping. “Do you ever check your phone?”

“Wh-What?”

Touya rolls his eyes. “Check your phone,” he calls out airily as he begins walking into the kitchen, shaking his head a little, disappointment rolling off him in waves.

Hastily fishing your phone out of your bag, you’re astonished to see eight texts from him and three missed calls. You scroll through the texts quickly, each one making you feel more nauseous than the next. ‘Is everything okay? You should’ve been home by now’; ‘Please answer me, princess, you’re making your niichan nervous’; ‘Where are you? Answer my fucking calls already’. Guilt turns sour in your mouth and you hurry after him.

“I-I really am s-so sorry,” you force the words out, unsure as to why there are suddenly tears stinging your eyes. He isn’t even doing anything—his back is facing you as he nonchalantly begins brewing a pot of coffee.

But the thought of him being upset with you, of losing his approval, sends a sharp pain searing through your chest.

“Are you?” he asks, and although his voice holds no malice in it, it causes your whole body to stutter with a harsh breath.

“Yes,” you whimper out, latching onto his arm and tugging in an attempt to draw his eyes to yours, to see how regretful you are, the remorse written across your face. “I should’ve…That was so careless and inconsiderate of me,”

“It was,” he agrees simply, voice still light, as if he’s discussing something as mundane as the weather. “But you’ll never do it again, right?”

“Right,” you agree readily, breathing out the word before you even realize what you’re agreeing to.

“Tell niichan you’ll never worry him like that again,” he finally looks over at you.

“I-I’ll never worry you like that again, niichan, I pr-promise,”

His eyes hold yours for what feels like eons, before he finally twists his arm out of your grasp, instead wrapping it around you and tugging you against his body. You stay staring up at him, eyes wide and obedient, breath bated as you wait for your next order, so pliant and ready to serve him.

“Good,” he whispers, eyes finally softening, and you feel like you can breathe properly again. His free hand cups your face, thumb running along your lips, then your chin, then your jaw. “You want to be good for me, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Of course,” you respond instantly. Later, you’ll lay awake in your bed, feeling ashamed by your actions, by how readily captivated you were with him, by how easily he was able to manipulate you with those sapphire eyes and that rough voice—

But in that moment, you’ll do anything to pull that little smile from him, anything to hear him tell you you’re good. You just want to be good.

Something dark and primal flashes in those gorgeous eyes as they gaze down at you, a small grin spreading across his face. “Of course,” he repeats softly.

  ✰          ✰          ✰          

He begins to trust you more. You meet his friends, each one terrifying in their own right. Jin is alright, although his brain is fried from drugs, and he talks to and contradicts himself a lot, earning the nickname Twice from Tomura.

Tomura horrifies you to your very core—a tall, lanky man with sunken red eyes and sickly pale skin who looks like he’s one bad day away from death—and Touya tells you very sternly to stay away from him.

A university student not unlike yourself, Keigo is your favourite. Keigo is the most normal, with his wild blonde hair and enticing gold eyes that always look like they’re playfully holding the secrets of the universe just out of your grasp.

Keigo’s brain is always going a hundred miles a minute, although you’d never guess it with his trademark lazy drawl, speaking as if he hasn’t got a care in the world. But he can always keep a conversation going, knows exactly what to say to avoid awkward silences or lulls in the discussion, and you appreciate that. You think he’s so cool—he has so much knowledge about the oddest things, everything and anything, ‘a walking encyclopedia’, Tomura calls it, and it fascinates you to no end.

It’s the speed, Touya tells you one night while you’re laying on the couch, your body on top of his, the pads of his fingers dragging down your back in rhythmic strokes. Speed is Keigo’s drug of choice, you find out. Speed is the reason why Keigo knows as much as he does.

“Sometimes he doesn’t sleep for days,” Touya says. “That’s how he has all the time to memorize everything he knows—though that big overactive brain of his plays a part in it, too,”

The thought inexplicably makes your heart sink in your chest, and you don’t say anything else. If Touya notices your shift in mood, he doesn’t mention it. You idly wonder what Touya’s drug of choice is, but you’re too scared of the answer to ask.

  ✰          ✰          ✰          

It’s only a few nights later when you wake with a violent jolt, breathing laboured as you absentmindedly press your palm to your chest, trying in vain to calm your racing heart.

A nightmare.

You sit in silence for a moment, listening to the sound of your own harsh breaths echoing off the walls and debating what to do next. A minute later, you swing your legs over the side of the bed, wincing when your bare feet touch the cold hardwood, and pad down the hallway.

You try to trick yourself into believing that you aren’t using this purely as an excuse to spend the night with him. It really was so scary, you reason with yourself, it really has made you all shaken up…

Who are you kidding? You didn’t even attempt to go back to sleep.

You’ve been in his room plenty of times now—sitting daintily on his bed as he introduces you to new music, new movies, new books. Stuff that reminds him of you, he says, stuff that he thought you might be interested in. You’re grateful for it; there are so many things you’ve learned in the short time you’ve known him.

That isn’t all, though. There’s no denying the warmth that spreads through your body, that tiny excited flutter in your chest, when he calls your name and interlaces your fingers, leading you toward his room and telling you he’s got something to show you.

Yes, you’ve been in his room plenty of times now. But this is the first time you spend the night in his bed.

He’s still up, soft golden light leaking from under his closed bedroom door. Your hand quivers a little as you lift it to rap your knuckles against the wood. He appears in the doorway a moment later, leaning against the frame in a black t-shirt that looks like it’s a size or two too small for him, riding up to reveal a teasing sliver of milky skin, tips of his hipbones jutting out from the waistband of his plaid pajama pants.

“Princess? What is it?”

You didn’t realize you were staring, and you jump a little at his gravelly voice.

“Oh. I, um—Well, I just…had a nightmare a-and I can’t sleep,”

You can barely look him in the eyes as you say it, your cheeks burning. You both know it’s a lie.

But he plays along.

“Aw, baby,” he coos, drawing you into his arms, into his room, into his bed.

“You’re trembling,” he murmurs as he turns on his side to face you, propping his head up with a hand. “Poor thing. Was it a bad one?”

Your mouth feels like its been stuffed with cotton, rendering you incapable of speech, tongue dry and sluggish. You nod in response, heat seeping into your cheeks again at just how loudly your heart is thumping while you roll onto your side. There’s only a few inches of space between your bodies now, his hot breath fanning across your face as he speaks again.

“Do you want niichan to help you forget about it?”

The question hangs heavy in the air, and you suck your bottom lip into your mouth, eyes searching his. Your thighs squeeze together at the way his voice has dropped an octave, low and husky, familiar heat pooling in the depths of your belly. He waits patiently, lifting a hand to caress your cheek, then runs his fingertips down your bare arm, goosebumps following.

Finally, you nod. You think you see the corners of his lips quirk up into the slightest hint of a smirk, but you blink, and it’s gone.

“Here,” he whispers, hooking an arm around your waist and pulling you against him. Hand cupping your jaw, he tilts your face up and slots his mouth against yours.

You’ve kissed before, of course—in his bed, in yours, on the living room couch, on the kitchen counter with his hips shoved between your thighs—but this…this feels different.

These are kisses with intent, with purpose, with a goal in mind. These are kisses that keep you distracted—slow, soft, messy with saliva—as his hand slips down your body and between your thighs.

Your gasp breaks the kiss, wide eyes blinking up at him then fluttering shut as he brushes a knuckle against your clit. He hushes you, nimble fingers spreading your folds before he drags them up your slit, huffing out a laugh at how wet you already are.

“Were you thinking about something naughty before?” he gasps mockingly, sliding the pads of his fingers back down as he speaks.

His hand withdraws from your shorts and he orders you to lift your hips, tugging the waistband down your thighs. You squirm a little, forcing them further down your legs until you free yourself of them completely, eyes gazing up at him again, awaiting your next command.

Legs part dutifully as his hand travels back down to the apex of your thighs, pushing a finger into your soaking pussy.

It’s slow at first, thrusting leisurely with his middle finger a few times and loosening you up a little before adding his ring finger. Sapphire eyes watch his motions, captivated by how your eager little cunt sucks his fingers in selfishly.

“Look at that, huh?” he breathes, looking down at you. “Such a pretty little pussy you’ve got,”

You open your bleary eyes to peer at yourself, mesmerized by the way his fingers are pumping in and out of you, glistening in the dim light of his bedroom. He curls his fingers and you inhale sharply, hips twitching toward his palm.

“Oh?” he chuckles darkly, knuckles nudging the spot again. “Did niichan find something, baby?”

You don’t know, you’re not sure, you try to tell him, but all you can seem to manage is pathetic little whines while you nod your head.

“Have you ever touched yourself?” he’s asking as the pads of his fingers tap against that spot, your entire body jolting.

“Y-Yes,” you whimper out, a little breathlessly. “But it’s never felt like this,”

“Aw, baby,” he coos, and it’s so condescending. “Then you weren’t doing it right, sweetheart,”

He quickens his pace, chuckles at the way you try to desperately fuck yourself on his fingers at such an awkward angle.

“Poor little thing, can’t even get herself off properly,” he tsks. “You need your niichan to do it for you, don’t you?”

Soft whines spill from your throat as you nod eagerly, your stomach coiling tightly.

“One day,” he breathes, curling his fingers with a vengeance this time, your hips rolling up off the mattress. “When we have the time, I’ll teach you how to make yourself feel so good,”  

He’s talking too much. You want to tell him this, tell him to shut the hell up, but every time you try to speak he presses the heel of his palm to your clit and grinds against it, effectively scattering all of your thoughts, soft mewls of niichan the only sound escaping your lips.

Can’t deny his voice is fucking hot though, a form of foreplay all on its own.

And he knows this, can read you like a goddamn book, especially when he’s got his fingers two knuckles deep inside of you. He can feel it, he tells you. You don’t even need to speak; he can feel your thoughts when his voice drops an octave and your cute little hole flutters, when he chuckles and your pussy clenches around his fingers—a slut for his voice, aren’t you?

“Pretty baby, you can’t do anything but nod dumbly, can you? Been fucked stupid by my fingers alone, huh?”

Your head barely moves, lost all control of your body by this point, only able to whimper in response.

“Gonna come all over my fingers, pretty girl?” the knuckle of his thumb begins grazing your clit in quick strokes. “C’mon, make a mess for niichan,”

And it’s pathetic, how quickly your body obeys. Your pussy squeezes once, twice, three times and you’re gushing all over his fingers, juices collecting in his palm, running down his wrist. You’re embarrassed—you’ve never cum that much before, have you?

Breathing still ragged, you nuzzle into his sheets, partially hiding your face from him. Nothing could hide the involuntary grin that forms on your lips, though. Arms snake under your boneless body, tugging a bit.

“Oh no, baby, we aren’t done yet,” Touya’s saying while he hoists you up, letting you lean heavily against him.

Head tilting in confusion, your glazed eyes find his. “Wh-What?”

He looks down at his lap and your gaze follows, a tiny whimper slipping past your lips at the bulge straining against his pants. “Doesn’t niichan deserve a nice reward for helping you forget that scary dream?”

Eyes darting back to his, you nod slowly, whispering out, “Yes. But—But…” But you’re hesitant; you’ve never done anything like this before. Shaking hands reach for the waistband of his pants, beginning to pull them down but freezing when the head of his cock peeks out.

Touya sighs. “Come on, you wanna be a good girl for niichan, don’t you?”

Of course. Of courses you do.

Then he wants you to touch him, he says. He’ll help you; he promises.

“But you gotta get it wet first,”

You ask how, and he laughs at you. “With your tongue, stupid,” he tells you.

He instructs you to kneel on the floor and you comply immediately, trembling legs folding beneath your body as you situate yourself between his knees. He inches forward on the bed a little, shuffling himself to the edge and caging you between his thighs. Bringing his cock close to your mouth, he taps the head against your closed lips.

They part instantly, obediently, his eyes flashing with something sinister as you take the head into your mouth and suck hesitantly, big eyes staring up at him waiting for approval.

He curses, his hips twitching ever so slightly, skin stretched taut over bony knuckles as a hand forms a fist in the sheets. Starting with kitten licks at first, the tip of your tongue barely touches him, tracing veins, then begins to gain more confidence as he groans a little, telling you what to you, that you’re doing good, so good for him.

Watching him through thick lashes, you have the audacity to look bashful as your tongue laves around the shaft, drenching it in saliva. A hand tangles in your hair and yanks, pulling you off his cock when he decides it’s sufficiently wet enough. Long fingers encircle your wrist, bringing your hand to form a fist around him.

“Like this,” he says, jerking your hand up and down.

You’re terrible at it, movements awkward and uncoordinated, but in that moment he doesn’t really care. He’s irritated a little, wondering out loud how anyone can be bad at handjobs while a large hand wraps around yours and forces you to speed up. Bad? Your heart sinks at the small three letter word, a hard lump forming in your throat, looking as though you may start crying.

But he cums quickly after that, ropes of searing hot white painting your cheeks and face. You watch him the entire time, panting a little, lips parted slightly and your tongue darts out to lick them, tasting him.

He laughs at your bitter reaction, and it’s such a patronizing sound.

“Don’t worry,” he says, collecting the cum off your face and forcing his fingers into your mouth. “Someday I’ll stuff your throat full of it.”

  ✰          ✰          ✰          

You can no longer mention needing—no, wanting—anything around him anymore, because within the next few days it’s sitting pretty and perfect on your bed, propped up against your lace trimmed pillows.

He’s so good to you; you should be grateful you have such a generous niichan, one who eats you out and spoils you with gifts. You’re so spoiled.

And he tells you this, in the dead of night when you wake to find him shoving his cock into you, snarling a little at your soft whines of protest.

“Don’t be a brat,” he warns. Just be a good girl and take his cock. He does so much for you, can’t you be good for him?

Yes, yes, you want to be good for him, you want to be the best for him.

By this point you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve woken up in the middle of the night with his head between your thighs, prepping you to take him.

“Stay sleeping, baby,” he’ll tell you, words whispered into your hair as his cockhead nudges against your hole.

As if you could ever stay sleeping when only a few minutes later he’s pounding you into oblivion, large hand clasped over your mouth so tightly his blunt nails are digging into your cheek, so hard that it’s yanking your head back, neck beginning to ache.

He tells you to be quiet, “You don’t want anyone to hear, do you? Then we’d have to stop, and you don’t want that, right, sweetheart?”

You don’t, you whimper. Of course you don’t—you want whatever he wants, you want to be his perfect little baby, you want to be told how good you take his cock, the praise mumbled against your skin in a low, strained voice right before he fills you with cum.

  ✰          ✰          ✰          

He disappears for a few days near the end of December. You have no idea where, Touya answering your curious texts with playful quips at first before he grows tired of it and tells you to stop fucking asking.

But eventually, he returns.

The front door slams shut and your body flinches with a jolt of excitement. Adrenaline spikes your blood when you hear his heavy boots colliding with the hardwood, getting louder, louder, louder…

He passes right by you, not glancing at you at all. Moments later, the sound of water hitting the tiled shower wall echoes down the hallway.

And you wait. Patiently, you wait, like the good little girl you are, not daring to move a muscle. Eventually he re-emerges, hair still damp, a few strands sticking to his neck.

With a groan, he collapses on the couch next to you, flopping his head into your lap and gazing up at you with glazed, blown sapphire eyes.

“You’re high,” you say softly, not accusatory, just an observation. He giggles a little.

“So what if I am?”

“What did you take?”

“Oh,” he gasps mockingly. “Oh no, baby, I can’t tell you that,”

Why? The question is burning on the tip of your tongue, and you can tell that he’s anticipating that to be your next response, but you bite down on your bottom lip, holding it in. You know his answer already, can practically hear his patronizing voice—Because good baby sisters aren’t supposed to know about stuff like this.

“Can I try some?” you ask instead.

All of the mirth fades from his eyes in an instant, and he moves in a flash despite his inebriated state, so quick you can barely tell what’s happening. His large hand wraps around your bicep in a bruising grasp, pulling you towards him as he sits up, his face an inch away from yours.

“Absolutely fucking not,” he spits, cobalt eyes blazing and voice rumbling against your chest. “And if I so much as catch wind that you’re using, have a mere feeling that you’ve tried it—even just once—I’ll slaughter you and the fucker you got it from. Do you understand me?”

Surprised tears spring into your eyes and you nod jerkily, body beginning to tremble as your breath gets caught in your throat. You want to tell him that you didn’t mean it, honest, you promise!; that you were just kidding around, you swear!, but you can’t, voice mangling itself with the hitched little breaths on the back of your tongue.

He growls at your silence, his grip around your arm tightening and you cry out, terrified that he might actually crush the bone with his bare hand.

“Say, yes Touya, I understand,”

“Y-Yes Touya, I understand,” you manage to stutter out, voice returning only at the command of a direct order, tears spilling over and rolling down your cheeks in pairs. His eyes search your face for a moment, his features contorted in fury, before he sneers at you, squeezing your arm once then roughly letting go, shoving you away from him.

You fall backward against the arm of the couch, heart thumping so vigorously you’re sure he can hear it. He groans, throwing his head back and closing his eyes, exasperated.

“Fuck,” he sighs, eyes opening to glare at the ceiling. “You’ve ruined my high,”

You stare at him, breath coming out in uneven huffs, clinging to the couch.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whisper, terrified to move lest you upset him more.

He’s silent for a moment, still staring up, until he lolls his head to the side, glancing at you through the corner of his eye. A small smirk spreads across his face.

“C’mere,” he says, nodding his head a little in indication.

“Wh-What?”

“C’mere,” he repeats. “Come make it up to me,”

Your body’s moving before you’ve given it permission to, crawling into his lap obediently, thighs on either side of his hips. His smirk widens, and you love it—you love how much control he has over you without even trying, you love the way a quiet whimper slips through your lips as his large hands begin kneading your flesh, running up your legs and grabbing your ass.

Lips trail up the column of your neck, and you tilt your head back, a silent plea for more. You can feel the way his lips curl into a grin against your skin, nipping at it a second later.

“So, how you gonna make it up to me? Huh?” he shifts his hips under you, pressing his hard cock into your clothed core. You whine a little, grinding against him.

“I’ve got a few ideas,” you breathe out while sharp teeth mar your collarbone.

“The hell you waiting for? Show me,”

You begin sliding down his body and he pushes on your shoulders, forcing you to your knees between his spread thighs. He watches you through half-lidded eyes, gaping pupils outlined by a thin ring of blue.

Holding his gaze, you lean forward with your pretty little tongue hanging out and begin licking along the straining bulge, tracing it slowly, the denim rough against your sensitive muscle. You relent though, lapping at his clothed cock in slow, long strokes, and his jeans are just thin enough for you to feel him pulse in response.

A giggle bubbles up past your lips, muffled by the denim, already beginning to feel heady as you pull simple reactions from him. Your mouth forms a cute little ‘o’ and you suck on him the best you can through his jeans, drooling all over his lap and soaking through the material.

The hand in your hair tightens into a fist, yanking hard and pulling your mouth away. “Stop fucking teasing,” he warns, a hint of something ominous in his voice.

You obey, because you always obey, tiny fingers working to quickly unbuckle his belt, pop the button, yank down the zipper. He aids you, lifting his hips and allowing you to tug his jeans down his thighs enough for his cock to spring out.

His own hand wraps around the shaft, you pausing mid-action as you reach for it.

“Open,” he demands, your dutiful lips parting immediately, letting him push his cock into the warm, wet cavern.

He sets a brutal, punishing pace from the start, refusing to give you a single moment to adjust. His other hand fists in your hair, forcing you to stay still as he rams his cock down your throat.

Reflexive tears burn your eyes, blurring your vision. You blink quickly to clear them, desperate to watch him, to catalogue all of his micro-expressions and the sound of his voice as he grunts out your name, to burn it into your mind, etch it into your very soul.

Touya’s head falls back against the couch, Adams apple bobbling with his rough whimpers, long neck and sharp collarbone on full display. If your mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied, you’d love to lick up his smooth skin, to trace the dips of his collarbone with your tongue and sign your name in brilliant splotches of blue and purple.

You’re gagging around his cock now, starting to feel lightheaded and struggling to inhale enough oxygen. The ache in your jaw is beginning to spread, but you ignore it, stretching your mouth open wider, to take more, to be good for him, to make him proud. It’s worth it for the hoarse, throaty moans you’re pulling from him, to hear your name shuddered out, followed by a breathy, “Fuck,”

He forces hot cum down your throat a moment later, and you choke on it, sputtering around his cock, throat spasming as it tries to force the foreign object out. He won’t let it, though. He holds your head in place, nose pressed against his pubic bone, and you can do nothing but take it, like a good little girl, like he tells you to.

But it’s all worth it. It’s all worth it, to hear his broken whines like that, to have him look down at you and pull your hair and tell you you’re good, so good for him.

And you’re sobbing by the end of it, gasping for air the moment he lets go of you, wheezing violently as your head collapses against his thigh.

“Did I—” you cough, voice raspy from having your throat fucked raw, “—Did I make it up to you, niichan?” you gaze up at him, eyelashes spiky with residual water. You’re the perfect picture of obedience, strands of hair stuck to your face where your salty tears have dried and swollen lips gleaming with saliva as you watch him with glittering eyes, waiting desperately for his praise.

He looks down at you, eyes devious and diabolical, chest heaving a little. “Of course you did,” he tells you, corners of his lips tugging up into a sharp smirk as you melt into him. “You always do, don’t you?”

[enthusiasticharry]

the one where you and harry are keeping a secret from your brother, who happens to hate harry’s guts. 

author’s note : hello everyone! i'm back with another fic, one that i can't believe i wrote so quickly to say the least. this is part of @harrystylescherry​‘s playlist challenge. i chose drive on by miss charlotte clark because it is an amazing song, and i can only hope that i’ve don't it justice.  

word count : 13.9k of a lot of angst, smut and only a tiny bit of fluff. i really don't know what happened to me. 

please talk to me about drive on here. let me know what you think :) 

But if we parted I'd be half-hearted So I'll leave the light on

As you were getting ready that evening, you knew that you were going to have to try your hardest to not show that you were absolutely dreading what was about to happen. The light sounds of Fleetwood Mac filled your room as you finished making sure that you looked okay. It seemed as though the longer that you looked at yourself in the mirror, the more you started to doubt that you actually looked okay. 

You tilted your head to the side as you looked in the mirror, running your eyes up and down your own body as if to check that you’re at least presentable. Your outfit wasn’t too out of the ordinary, just a pair of black, flared trousers and a white knitted jumper because you knew that it is going to be quite chilly and you are going to be outside for a large portion of the evening and you make sure to pair it with some white trainers, ones that match so you start to feel a little more put together. Even though it certainly wasn’t the most out there outfit, it was okay and you had to keep reminding yourself of that. 

Walking down the stairs, you could hear the mumbling of your brother, Isaac, in the kitchen, along with someone else’s voice that you immediately recognise as Daisy, your best friend. You’re not exactly surprised at their discussion, because whenever they’re alone in a room together you know that it doesn’t usually end up with them discussing sunshine and rainbows. The more you think about it, the more you struggle to determine which one out of the two of them is more stubborn, because they both are just as stubborn as each other. 

“Baby sis!” You try not to roll your eyes at your brother’s greeting, “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” 

“We’re coming with you.” You respond, walking forward so that you can greet your friend with a hug. You knew that it was going to be a long shot of him letting you come with him, but if Daisy was too you knew that he wouldn’t be able to say no, and that’s why you go with her every single time. It’s how you’re cheated the system of having an overprotective brother. 

“I thought you were going to Daisy’s for a sleepover?” He questions, and you nod your head. 

“I am.” You smile, “But after.” 

You walk over to grab yourself a bottle of water out of the fridge because you know that if you look at him in the eyes he’ll be staring at you in a way that you could do without. You know that he’s only saying the things that he is because he’s protective of you, but you also have to keep reminding him that it wasn’t the first time that you had gone out and been to a race with him, and it certainly wasn’t going to be the last. 

Chugging down a bit of the water, Daisy extends her arm out to you and you pass the bottle to her, watching as she takes a sip before passing it back to you so that you can put the cap on. Even though you have been to the races before, that certainly didn’t meant that every time you did go you found yourself being more and more nervous for what you’re going to witness. It’s dangerous, and sometimes you feel a though you’re the only one out of all of them to notice that. 

“Every fucking time.” Isaac shakes his head and you smile. 

“Thank you.” You had an obnoxious grin on your face as you say the words, and you know it. 

“Yeah, well. . .” He shakes his head, “Just come on and let’s get in the fucking car.” 

The first time you went to one of the races, you remember not being able to focus on anything other than the fact that anyone could get really injured, or even die, at any second if they’re not careful. Maybe you were just too overly cautious, and you couldn’t ever find yourself focusing on the thrill and excitement of it all because you were too worried that someone was going to get hurt. It was even worse when the person you were worried about was someone you cared about like you did your brother. 

“One of these days you will take me without putting up a fight.” You say, following him towards his car, “I don’t know when it will be but I can feel it.” 

He looks at you as he opens his door, “That’s never going to happen. For one, I hate that you even come to where the races are held, more so that you stand and watch them.” 

You shrug and climb in the car, “Mum and Dad don’t know that you race, and if they’re not able to be there and worry about your safety then I am going to be the one to do so. Can’t have you risking your life and at least not one of us being there.”

He shakes his head and tuts, “I’m not risking my life. It’s just competitive driving.” 

You furrow your eyebrows and you hear Daisy chuckle, “You’re delusional.” 

“Says you.” 

The two of you hear a tut coming from the back seat, “I know the two of you are siblings, and this is just what I have to deal with, but sometimes I really do wonder whether or not you’re children hidden in fully grown bodies.” 

“I’m not the child.” Isaac’s quick to say, “If anything, you’re the child!” 

“Really?” You shake your head, “You must know that you saying that basically proving everything! You’re the child, Isaac.”

“God, I wish I’d never said anything.” Daisy shakes her head and you cross your arms over your chest, pouting slightly but trying not to make it too obvious because you really were trying to be the adult in this situation. 

You and Isaac weren’t the closest of siblings, to say the least. The two of you never did much together and if you did it wasn’t voluntarily, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t care for each other because you certainly did. The two of you would protect each other without any hesitation, in any situation because that was the type of siblings that you were. That didn’t mean that you were friends, though, because you didn’t have to be. You loved each other, and you cared for each other, but you didn’t have to be friends with each other and you were both okay with that. It was was though you both had an unspoken agreement that you’d look out for each other in this way. 

Turning onto the ever so familiar field, you know that it isn’t going to be long before your heart rate is going to feel as though it is beating out of your chest and your palms are going to start to get sweaty. You believed that you brother was good at what he did, he wouldn’t have gotten as far as he had if he didn’t, but even if someone is as good and as talented as he was that didn’t meant that accidents don’t happen. 

There isn’t just that fact that your brother is good at the sport to contend with, but also the fact that some people who do it may not be as good as he is, and they could be reckless, and in drag racing, recklessness gets people in trouble. You knew that, he knew that and everyone who participated and watched knew that. You knew that there were some people there just to watch the race whilst getting drunk with their friends and you didn’t mind that because that was what it was there to do, but you couldn’t stand the people who were there in hopes that something did go wrong, just to see a little bit of action in their boring day to day lives. 

You supposed that a part of your worry for these games were because you weren’t just worried about your brother, you were worried about somebody else also. Isaac stopped the car so that you and Daisy could get out but you hesitated before doing so. You looked at him, and he nodded at you so you nodded your head and again and got out. You stood and watched as he drove away, making his wear to where all of the participants line up their cars before it starts. 

Your eyes follow him, all the way along the man-made little road on the field and to where the other cars were. That’s when you see him, stood in exactly the same place as he was a few weekends before this one and a few weekends before that, leant against his car and his arms crossed as he chewed some gum. 

The insides of your stomach flutter, and not in nervousness but instead in the complete opposite way. He catches your eyes straight away, raising his eyebrows at you as you smile at him. You nod your head, trying hard not to let too big of a blush cover your cheeks and he nods back. That’s as far as your interaction with Harry can go at the moment, because if anyone saw the two of you communicating you knew that all hell would break loose and you certainly didn’t want to be around to see that. 

The race was going to start any second, and you made your way over to where Daisy was stood, knowing that she would have saved you a spot next to her so that you didn’t have to try and manoeuvre your way through the crowd to get a good spot to watch. You were relieved that you had arrived here not early enough to have to wait hours like you had before, because it was in the time like that where the overpowering feeling of worry was able to slip into you like nothing else and you would try really hard to overpower it but the majority of the time you never felt as though you could. 

What YN worried about the most though, was the fact that whoever could be injured in the race, or something worse, were both people that YN loved. The two of them for different reasons, of course, but it was still love and all of the love you felt for them was important. You watched as they both sat in their cars, driving towards the starting line with such an ease that you wondered whether or not they’d be able to do it in their sleep. You wouldn’t be surprised if they could. You know that Harry has raced in hundreds of races, and you also know that your brother is quickly catching up to that, but that doesn’t make it any easier, for them or for you. 

“Ready racers?” A woman walked in between the cars and held up a flag. Both her brother and Harry respond by a roar of their engine, “3! 2! 1! Go!” 

You look down slightly once you hear their cars start, going along the man-made path and over all of the hills and round all of the bends. You only look down for a second before looking up and watching as they drive away from you. The people around you cheer, and Daisy even cheers from the side of you but all you can make up the courage to do is clap your hands slightly. Every time you stand and watch a race, you always say to yourself that you’ll never do it again because you don’t think that you’re heart will survive it, but then you always come back to watch the next race because you physically can’t keep away. Not when two people you love are doing something that you know could end badly. 

They drive around, the two of them doing anything they can to try and throw the other off track but you know that it probably won’t work, because it works with everyone else but hardly ever with each other. You know that whoever wins will do so because of their speed, because that’s how it always happens when the two are up against each other. You stand there watching them drive for what feels like hours, the cheers only getting louder as the two of them fight for the first place prize. 

As the finishing line draws to a close, they’re playing cat and mouse with each other, and you know whoever is next to cross in front will win. 

It’s Isaac. Isaac won. You’re happy for him, but at the same time you know that Harry isn’t going to be the happiest but you’ll just have to remind him that he won last time and that he has to let other people win at some point. Your brother was cheering when he got out of his car, and you could see his friends bouncing over to him with smiles on their faces and drinks in their hands. You and Daisy make your way over, but you aren’t as excited they seem to see him. 

“Are you two leaving now?” He asks and you and Daisy look at each other before nodding, “Satisfied?” 

“Very.” You nod, “Well done.” 

“Thanks.” He raises his hand up and points at you, “Am I picking you up tomorrow?” 

You shake your head, managing to keep your cool as you did, “Daisy said she’ll drive me back. I don’t know whether you’ll be at work by the time we’re ready.” 

“Sounds good. See you tomorrow.” 

You physically let out a sigh of relief when you walk away and he believed you. You hate lying to him, you really do, but you just don’t see any other option to do what you’re doing without lying, which is horrible buy you really don’t know another wine. 

Daisy slips her arm into yours as you walk away, “Where’s he meeting you?” 

“In the usual place.” You nod, “I couldn’t see him when we were over there so I think he’s already gone.” 

“Okay.” She nods, “I’m catching a ride with Dennis, will you be okay?” 

“I’ll be fine.” You smile. 

“Call me if you need anything?” 

“You know I will.” 

“Good.” She wraps her arms around you before pulling away, “See you soon?” 

“See you soon.” 

The walk to the edge of the field, just behind a row of trees that hide Harry’s car from the watchful eye of others isn’t a long one, and you can feel the butterflies bubbling in the pit of your stomach the closer you walked to it. Just as every time you did this, your stomach was in twists and turns tightly in your stomach until you have to place your hand upon it as though it would calm it but it doesn’t. It doesn’t calm down until you see the back of the man you loves head, a slight cloud of smoke around his head and his leather jacket on his body. A smile immediately broke out over your lips. 

You bound over to him, immediately wrapping your arms around his waist and placing your cheek against the leather of his jacket. You can feel him tense underneath your touch slightly but once you hear and feel him chuckle, his whole body relaxes.

He hums, “Who might that be?” 

He grabs your hands and lightly pulls them away from his body so that he can turn around and place his hands around her back. You grin and place your chin on his chest, laughing softly as he leans down and places multiple kisses around your face, “Harry!” 

“What?” He grinned pulling away from you, shrugging his shoulders, “Do you not like my kisses or something?” 

You chuckle, “I love your kisses, but don’t you think they can wait until we’ll out of public. Away from my brother.” 

He pouts, dropping his head to your shoulder, “I suppose.” 

Harry walks over to the passenger side of the car and opened the door for you. As you walked towards him, you placed a kiss to his cheek and slipped into the car. The nerves were back in your stomach as you watched Harry walk around the car and slip into the driver’s seat. The two of you don’t get to see each other as much as you’d possibly like to, so nights like these were special to you, and you hoped that he was just as excited and nervous as you were. 

The second Harry was sat in his seat, and had started the car, his hand was on your thigh, squeezing the flesh through your trousers at you sat there. You really had missed feeling having him touching you, even though it hadn’t been that long. If it was up to you, Harry would be with you everyday and you would be able to kiss and touch him everyday without any issues, but you knew that just wasn’t the case. 

You and Harry had been together for a little shy of three years now, hiding your relationship from literally everyone apart from a few trusted people on each side of you. It wasn’t that you wanted to hide, but you both knew that you just had to if you were going to be able to have the relationship that you had. When you were younger, Harry and Isaac were best friends. You could always remember sitting in the back of the car after behind picked up from school and being squashed into the door because the middle seat was always taken by Harry. You can’t quite remember why the two of them fell out, but you did remember that it happened when the three of you were around fifteen or sixteen. 

It was a shock to everyone, because the two of them had been friends for the longest of times and Isaac did seem to be in a rut once it had happened. You had tried to talk to him about it a few times but he never said anything, so you turned to the one other person in the situation who might have to been able to help you. Harry. At first, he seemed to be completely shocked when you walked over to him one day after school and jumped into his car. He actually looked quite taken aback, but when you started asking questions about the falling out he just went quiet.

To this day you still don’t know what had happened between the two of them, but you do know that was the day that you relationship with Harry turned from being the generally acquaintances because you’re friends with my brother to something more. Harry was somebody who you had grown up with, and yes you could admit that he was handsome, but you’d never thought of him in a romantic way up until that point. A part of you wished that you had picked up on it early because you may have been able to kiss him sooner than you had but you were happy, and the two of you were now three years going strong. 

The fact that your brother and Harry had fallen out, and when the two of you got together it was really rocky between them, you both decided that the best thing to do was just not to tell him, which led to not telling anyone. You had said that when things improved between the two of them you would tell him, but once the Drag Racing started, there was no way that it would ever improve between the two of them, and you just had to accept that. 

Arriving at Harry’s apartment, it was almost as though your body was working on auto-pilot when Harry opened the door and you walked through. You kicked your shoes off by the door, walked into the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of water and made your way into his bedroom. Harry was already stood in the small room, placing his jacket in his wardrobe. You quickly started to undress, swapping your clothes for one of Harry’s shirts and a pair of your pyjama shorts. You walk into the bathroom to take your makeup off and brush your teeth. 

“Have you had any more thought into our anniversary trip?” Harry called from the bedroom. 

“I’ve thought about it.” You say, running your make up wipe over your eyes, “That’s about it.” 

You can hear his sigh even from the other room, and your inside’s twists in not the good way. The anniversary trip had been something that the two of you had spoken about for a long time, and it would be coming in a few months and Harry had been on your back for a long time so that they could get it booked, but you were thinking about a lot of other things rather than booking a holiday. You did hate that you didn’t have anything more to say to him, because you knew that he was disappointed, but there was only so much that you could say. 

“I’ll need to book time off of work soon, YN.” He appears only in his boxers in the doorway, leant against it with his arms crossed, “I need to know the dates.” 

“I know.” You sigh, turning so that your hip was leant against the counter, “I still just need to figure out what I’m going to tell Isaac.” 

Harry sighs and runs his hand over his face, “I know. We can think of what to say to him later, but as soon as possible can you tell me the dates.” 

He walks over and places his hands on your waist and you nod, “I will. I’ll check when I get home.” 

“Good.” He presses a kiss to your cheek. 

You hated hiding things from Harry, you really did, because that man really was your soulmate and the person in this world that you told everything to, so it felt horrible to be hiding something from him. Hiding things from Harry felt like ripping your heart from your chest — you just couldn’t do it— but here you were, doing it without anything happening. 

It had been a long night for the two of them, and you knew that even though Harry had a brave face on, you knew that inside he probably wasn’t too happy that he’d lost. The thing about Harry, and your brother for that matter, was that they are so competitive, especially with each other, that when either one of them loses they try to seem like they don’t care but they do. When you walked back into the room, Harry was already in bed with his arms crossed and his face in a sulk. 

You sighed and walked over to your side of the bed, pulling the duvet back and slipping under. Harry didn’t even turn to look at you, so you wrapped your arm around his waist and placed your head upon his chest so that he couldn’t help but look at her. You knew that the main thing that you needed to do right now was try and get him out of the rut. It could spring on him at any point but it was never anything that was easy to get him out of. You sighed and pressed a kiss to his bare chest. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” You mumbled against his chest. 

“There’s nothing to talk about.” He mumbled and you shook your head, lifting your hand up to push some of his hair out of his face. 

“There obviously is.” You sighed, “You’re in your rut. Talking about it takes you out of it. I know that, you know that, but you’re just too stubborn to realise this.” 

“I’m not too stubborn.” He pouts and you shake your head with a roll of your eyes, raising one of your eyebrows at him, “I just. . . fucking hate loosing to him. Talking about the anniversary, and I know why you haven’t said anything about it yet, baby, just reminded me. I’m sorry.” 

You hesitate for a second before smiling at him, “I know you are, H, don’t worry. It’s my fault. I should’ve told you.” 

“Don’t.” He shakes his head and leans forward, placing his hand upon your cheek, “Don’t apologise. I get that it’s hard for you, I know. I just. . . wish that I could take it all away from you. It’s my fault that you’re having to keep secrets from your brother.” 

You shake your head, “It’s not your fault. I promise that it isn’t your fault. There’s been hundreds of times in the past three years when I could have told him.” 

“It’s not just you. We need to tell him.” 

If you needed anything else to love Harry for (which you really don’t because you love him with you’re entire being) you feel as though this would be one of those things. You couldn’t believe how understanding he was, and even though the two of you did have times where you butted heads on things, it was never over anything big like this. The two of you made sure that if you ever did have a problem that you needed to sort, there would be some arguing and shouting but there is in any couple, but the two of you always made up before it ended up turning ridiculous. 

You turned your head to Harry and placed you lips on his, pushing his shoulders down with your hand so that he’s on your back. You move slightly underneath the duvet that you were both under, manoeuvring yourself so that you were hovering over his body, the two of your lips never separating. You were straddling him, your hands resting on the pillow by Harry’s head. Your hips ground against his boxers involuntarily, and you can feel him smiling against him. Harry moaned into your mouth, and you could feel his bulge growing harder and bigger beneath you. 

Pulling away slightly you lean forward and place your forehead upon his, smiling as you place a small kiss to his nose. The hard and stern face of your boyfriend that you had seen earlier when he was racing had completely disappeared, and it was now replaced by his soft and flush features that he only ever saved for when he was with you, and you loved it. You could still feel his hard-on rubbing against your thigh, and you leant forward and placed your lips back on his. His arms wrapped around your waist and back, slipping them down until he could squeeze and knead the flesh over your pyjama short. 

“You know I fucking love you, right?” He mumbles against your lips and you nod. 

His hips continue to buck up to yours, whilst you grind yours back down to him. You pulled away and leant your head upon his forehead again, “I know you love me. You know I love you?” 

He responded you flipping you over, his body now hovering over you. He gave you a boyish smile and nodded his head, leaning his head back down to place his lips on your neck, pressing small little kisses to the skin. 

“I know you love me.” He mumbles against her lips, “Do you wanna feel me, baby? Have you missed me?” 

You responded with a moan, the sound of his raspy voice goes all the way from your ear, all the way down your spine to the heat between your legs. You wouldn’t be surprised if your panties were completely ruined by now. 

“Of course I’ve missed you.” You mumble against his lips, your cheeks flushing as you admit it to him. For years you two have been this close, but it didn’t stop you from being nervous every single time that you are near each other. It’s always how it had been, and probably how it will always be but you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Tell me how much you’ve missed me.” He kissed down your neck, and you couldn’t help the smile that crossed you face as he did so, “Don’t hold back, baby.” 

You threw your head back as he moved downwards, threading your fingers through his hair as you did so. You just hoped that it made him feel better than it was. 

Walking home the next morning, your entire body was relaxed and happy in a way that it only ever is after you’d spent time with Harry. If you passed anyone in the street, you smiled at them and there was a slight bounce in your step. There was an excitement that there hadn’t been in you for a long time because you were going to look over your schedule and finally get yourself sorted for your anniversary trip with Harry. Walking through the door that goes into kitchen, you immediately walk over to the fridge to take the orange juice out. 

“Morning little sis.” You jump out of your skin and turn around, leaning your back against the counter and lifting your hand up to your chest as it beats in your chest. Looking at your brother, it seemed as though he had just got back from a run, since he was all sweaty, he had his running shoes on and his headphones around his neck. Immediately your heart started to beat in your chest quicker, and the relaxation that you had felt before had immediately left your body and you feel back on edge as you do a lot of the time recently. 

“Morning.” You grin, turning back around to open a cupboard to grab a glass that you could fill with the orange juice carton that you were still holding, “Been for a run?” 

He nods his head, walking over to the fridge and taking out a bottle of water. When he wasn’t looking directly at you, a sigh escaped your lips. It was quickly over and he was looking at you again, leant against the counter across from you with his arms crossed. 

“Woke up with the want to go for a run.” He explained and you furrowed your eyebrows, looking at him and he chuckles, “I know, totally unlike me but I really did just feel like it.” 

You nod, your fingers tapping on the counter slightly, “Did you. . . did you go on your normal route?” 

Isaac shakes his head, “I met up with D’Angelo. We went to the lake.” 

Just like that, the worry that was in your body had left. The lake was on the other side of the town to where Harry lived, and where Isaac normally ran meaning that he couldn’t have seen you leaving Harry’s house which was good. You were starting to realise that the more you had to make sure that your brother hadn’t seen or didn’t know anything about you and Harry, the harder it was becoming for you to keep track of everything. The lie of staying over at Daisy’s had worked for years now, but the older that you got and the more that situations were changing for the two of you, it was harder to keep it as a lie. 

“Was it busy?” You ask, trying to make conversation that made it seem as though everything was normal and nothing had happened. 

He shakes his head, “Not really.” He hesitates for a second before looking up at you and tilting his head to the side, “I did see Daisy and Dennis though.” 

And just like that, your whole body was back to being on edge and nervous. The only way that you could describe how you felt was a mixture of both shock and immediate nervousness. Isaac continued to drink from the bottle in his hand, with no malice or shock on his features at all. If he did know something, he would’ve had said something by now and you knew that because of how well you knew him and that’s in one of the ways how you were both similar — when you knew something, you couldn’t keep it a secret. 

It was something that you had grown up with, your inability to keep secrets and you were honestly and truthfully so surprised that you and Harry had managed to keep your relationship a secret for so long. This wasn’t the first time that you had thought that Isaac had found out about your relationship, and it wasn’t the first time that you hadn’t been able to figure out how to get out of it but you knew that you would be able to get yourself out of it. You hoped that you would be able to get yourself out it. 

You were started to get quite nervous though, with sweaty palms and a heart beating directly up against your chest. Your mind spiralled and you hoped that you were going to hear something that would stop your chest in the next few minutes. 

“Did you?” You cleared your throat to make it seem as though you were more put together than you were. 

He hums, “Yeah. They explained that you were walking home and that Dennis’ arrival was out of the blue.”

You nod and smile, your heart stopping to beat so quickly the second those words escaped her lips, “Yeah. He appeared and asked her to go on a walk before work later. I said that I’d just walk home so that Daisy could go. I think he’s going to ask her out soon.” 

Isaac scoffs and crossing his arms over his chest, “I hope so. They’ve only been dancing around it for the last few years.”

You nod, “We’ve all said it. I don’t know how many times we’ve told her but anyway, I’m going to get in the shower before getting ready for work.” 

You’re quick to walk out of the kitchen and up the stairs with your head spinning. The entire time that you’re getting ready, showering and doing your hair, standing in front of your mirror and looking at the marks that Harry had left over the entirety of your skin before putting your work uniform on, you’re thinking about what you’re going to do. Today you were going to book some time off work from the café during the week of your anniversary, and even though that Daisy would know why you were doing that, you didn’t have to tell anyone else there. When it came to being at home, and telling your brother why you were going to be leaving for a month whilst Daisy stayed at home was going to be hard to explain to say the least. You were going to have to think very carefully about what you were going to say. 

Walking into the small café you worked at not that long later, you were happy to finally be in the place where anything else that happened in your life went to the back of your mind and you could focus on making drinks and serving customers. You had worked at the café since the day you turned eighteen, and you had worked there ever since. It wasn’t what you wanted to do forever, working in the little café with your best friend and your boss that is just an absolute asshole, but you just haven’t got the funds or was it the right time for you to try and get your dream going. 

Your dream, albeit a big one, was to one day own your own café that sold your own treats that you made and looked the exact way that you wanted it to. You had been planning your own café and telling everyone you knew about it since sitting in your maths classes in middle school when you realised that school really wasn’t for you. You were okay in school, and you got good enough grades, but none to get you to what you wanted to do in life. Over the last three years, many of your conversations with Harry had been about your café and how you would work there whilst he would take over his father’s mechanical shop. 

That was the plan for the future, but first — you had a shift to do and you had a lie to think of. 

“Afternoon.” You mumbled as you walked into the small café, Daisy’s eyes immediately widening as she takes a look at you stood there, “How are you?” 

“I’m sorry.” Daisy blurts out, not being able to stop herself from doing so, “I really didn’t know that he was going to be there, if I did I would have never gone there, you know that.” 

“I know.” You walk over and wrap your arms around her shoulders briefly, “He doesn’t know, it’s fine. I shouldn’t be relying on you so much, Daisy, I know that. I’m trying to figure out what to do.” 

“It’s okay, YN.” She mumbles, placing her hand upon your shoulder with a smile, “I know why you’ve done it, but I’m glad you’re finally coming to your senses. It’s three years too late, but at least you’re here.” 

“At least it’s happening now.” You sigh, widening your eyes as you look at her. 

“You’ll be fine. Everything will be fine.” 

You sigh and nod your head, hoping that she was right. 

You heard Harry’s car before you could see it, pulling up outside of your house in a quick stop so that you could quickly duck out and get it. Isaac was out for the night, doing another race in another town that Harry couldn’t do because he had work, so they had decided to spend the night together. Due to Isaac being out of town, they decided that they might even be able to go for a meal, to a restaurant, like a normal couple would. 

You gave him a small smile and a peck on the lips as you sat in the car. There hadn’t been much discussion between you and Harry that week, not since you had left his that morning. It was odd, because the two of you spoke everyday, even if it was just to check that the other was okay, but the conversation this week had been limited to you asking him to come for a meal and him replying saying that he would. You always knew that this day would come, where the unspoken issue between the two of you had become too much for you to handle. 

You had tried five times over the last week to say something to Isaac, trying to drop it in to normal conversation but you always dived away from it, as though you couldn’t allow yourself to say what you wanted to say to him. You had never been as nervous before in your life, and all you had to do was tell him about a secret that involved the one person that Isaac hated most in life and his twin sister. You just had to try your hardest to remind yourself over and over again that it was the best thing to do, and that you’d be happy if you were able to get the words out, but you just couldn’t. 

The two of you arrived at a restaurant on the outskirts of the town you lived in, one that meant you would be safe if Isaac did return home and one that the two of you also knew would serve good food. The car ride continued without any words spoken between the two of them, and you tried your hardest to not feel the nerves bubbling inside of you, but you also knew that there was a reason why you were going to have this conversation with him, and there was a reason why you needed to feel nervous for it. 

Sitting across from Harry in a booth that sat at the front of the restaurant, you couldn’t even bring yourself to take your eyes off of his face. There hadn’t been a lot of times during your relationship with Harry where you had felt like this, and it was usually always when the two of you were discussing the exact topic that you knew that you were going to be now. Whilst you couldn’t take your eyes off of Harry, it seemed as though he wanted nothing more than to not look at you. 

“Hey.” He didn’t look up from the menu that he had in his hand, “Are you going to even look at me?” 

You watch as he doesn’t even move a muscle, never mind do the thing that you wanted him to do which was look at you, “I’ve looked at you.” 

“Not since we’ve sat down you haven’t.” 

You watch as he sighs and drops the menu down so that it was rested upon the table between you and lifts his eyes up to look at you, “Happy now?” 

A small smile breaks out your face, a sarcastic one at that, but a smile nonetheless, “Very.” 

Harry rolls his eyes and leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. You look at him with your eyes widened. Why this was happening all of a sudden, you didn’t know, but you had a slight suspicion that you weren’t going to be able to argue your way out of this one with him like you had done in the past. The first thing that led you to believe that was the fact that you were in a public place, where you had to do your best to make sure that you were going to tell the truth and nothing but the truth. 

As a whole, you were ashamed of your actions over the years, and you knew that you wouldn’t be able to apologise for everything that you had done in the past but you could at least try. Everything had changed now that you had your three year anniversary coming up, and you realised that there was so much more to life than trying to hide a stupid secret from your brother. 

“Harry.” You start, a sigh immediately leaving your lips after, “I’m sorry. I really am.” He nods his head, “I don’t expect you to accept my apology, and I certainly don’t expect you to forgive me for the shit that I’ve put you through these last couple of years, but, I want to let you know that I am trying to fix things. I promise you.” 

He sighs, “I don’t know how you can, YN. I’ve thought about it a lot recently, in the past week, since our conversation last week.” 

“I have too.” You nod, your fingers messing with the hem of your jacket, “I have too. I’ve tried so many times, to tell him, but I just can’t and I don’t know why. He can’t do anything, I’m a grown ass woman and he’s just my brother. He can’t tell me who I can and can’t love, and I do love you Harry more than anything, but there’s a part of me that just can’t tell him.” 

Harry cleared his throat and sighed, “I never told you the reason we argued.” 

You shake your head, “Neither of you did.” 

“Do you want to know?” He asked. 

You shrugged, “I don’t know. . . if it will help, than yes.”

Harry sighed and nodded his head, running his finger over his bottom lip the way that you knew that he did when he was nervous, “We were in Eugene’s basement, having just watched one of his races and he had some shit, and we decided to take it. It was just us, everyone else had gone to do something else or get high somewhere else, and we were just sat.” You were hanging off of every word that he said, “We were taking about, I don’t know, life and all the shit that we usually do when we’re high and we got onto the topic of you.”

Your eyes widen, “Me? Why were you talking about me?” 

“He mentioned you and how you wanted to do things with your life and how he was fed up that all he had to do with his life was race.” Harry chuckled and shook his head, “I couldn’t even help it, I just blurted out that I liked you and that I was going to ask you on a date, thinking that he would be happy for us, but instead, he punched me in the face.” 

Your lips part, “He what?” 

“He punched me.” Harry runs a hand through his hair, “And then he just started screaming at me, saying that scum like me wasn’t good enough for someone like you. The more he said it, the more I believed it and I believed it all the way until you got in my car and asked me to tell you what had happened. I didn’t, and I didn’t for a reason, because if I had told you maybe you would’ve thought the same as him, that I wasn’t good enough for you, so instead I asked you on the date, just like I had planned to.” 

You let his words sink in for a while, the sound of them bouncing around in your head for a while as you look down at the table in front of you. You couldn’t lie and say that you hadn’t thought about what had gone down between them, and what had been said to make them despise each other as much as they did, but you certainly hadn’t expected it to be about you of all things. It started to all make sense now, how when you had asked him, after your first night together at his house, if he was okay that you didn’t tell your brother about the two of you being together, and he agreed. At first you had thought that it was odd, seeing as though this man didn’t know your motive behind why you were saying that, but at the same time, you didn’t know his motive behind why he said yes. 

It all made sense. 

You sigh and nod your head, “Why didn’t you just tell me? I would’ve understood. You know that I would’ve.” 

He shrugs his shoulders, “Why didn’t you tell me about what you had been thinking? And what you had been trying to do?” 

You shrug your shoulders, “I don’t know.” 

“It works both ways, YN.” He shrugs, “And I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you but a part of you has to realise that there was a reason you didn’t tell me and you didn’t tell him. I understand a part of you was trying to keep it calm between us, but there had to be more than that.”

You can feel the tears starting to brim within your eyes, and the more that you thought about it, the more that you knew you were going to struggle to hold them back. You start to blink quickly, lifting your eyes up to look at the ceiling. It worked, and you managed to make sure that no tears slid down your cheeks. 

“A part of me did do it because I knew that it would be easier for you, that you didn’t have to tell him that you were my boyfriend. I knew how hard that would’ve been for you.” You explain, lifting your hand up to scratch your forehead, “So I decided that for a little while, I just wouldn’t tell him. At least not until things had calmed down between the two of you. After a few months of waiting was going to say something to him, just drop it into conversation and then walk out of it with my hands up but then I realised that it wasn’t going to be that easy. The day that I was going to do it, he walked into my bedroom with this big news that he was so excited to tell me.” You take in a breath and sigh, “It was the news that you were starting to drive, and that he was going to beat you that night and I knew that if I had told him, he wouldn’t have just beat you in the race.” 

“I can stand up for myself, YN.” 

“I never said that you couldn’t.” She shook her head, “I just didn’t want you getting hurt because of me.” 

“I wouldn’t be getting hurt because of you. I’d be getting hurt because of something we did.” He explains, “Just like you can’t blame this all on me, and me on you, I’m not going to let you blame this all on yourself either.” 

“Harry.” You sigh and lean back in the chair that you sat in, “We’re going to have to tell him.” 

He shakes his head, “He’s not going to like it.” 

“I know.” You agree with him and hold your hand out, “But we’ve got to tell him.” 

“I know we have.” He grasps your hand in his.

It turned out that you and Harry didn’t have to wait for too long to tell your brother, because when Harry pulled up outside of your house, your brother was already sat there on the steps of the house, waiting for you to arrive home. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing if you were completely honest, and a part of you realised that this was it. You turned to look at Harry slightly, a sigh leaving your lips as you did so. 

“You still want to do this?” He asked, pulling his keys out of the ignition as the car came to a complete stop. 

You sigh and lean over to place your hand upon his, “I don’t think we have a choice, now.” 

“We do.” He turned his head to look at you, squeezing your fingers as he did so, “I could just drive away. Ignore him.” 

You chuckle and shake your head, lifting your connected hands up to place a kiss to the back of his hand, “Come on. He might explode if we keep him waiting any longer.” 

You certainly couldn’t lie and say that your brother looked like he was handling everything well, because he certainly wasn’t. His jaw seemed to be constantly clenched the entire time that you walked towards him, and you definitely saw his hands that were clenched by his sides in fists. You knew that he was going to be annoyed, and you expected that there would certainly be some shouting involved with this, but, she certainly didn’t want this to become physical at any point. In your opinion, it certainly wasn’t worth it. 

“YN.” You stop in front of him once he’s spoken your name, and Harry is just a few steps behind you. Having him there really brings a comfort that you don’t really feel unless you’re with him, so if anything, you were happy that he was there, “What are you doing with him?” 

“I’m—” You start, looking at him for a second before letting out a sigh, “He’s—”

You can’t find the right words to say what you want to say. You knew that it wasn’t going to be easy to explain to your brother, but you at least thought that you’d be able to get past the first words without choking up, but it seemed as though that wasn’t the case. 

“Isaac—” Harry takes a step forward, so that he was directly next to you but before he could say anything else, Isaac holds his hand out to stop him. 

“I wasn’t talking to you.” Harry clamps his lips shut, and you can tell that he’s trying to hold back so many things but at least he isn’t making the situation worse which you knew that he possibly could. Isaac then turns to you, “I was asking you the question. What are you doing with him?” 

Letting out a sigh, you shut your eyes for a second to calm yourself down, “I’m. . . we’re together, Isaac.” 

He lets out a sigh and shakes his head, tutting slightly as he did so, “When Eugene told me, I didn’t believe him. I said that you’d never do that to me because you know that I hate him more than I’ve hated anyone in my life before.” 

At first you listen to the words that he was saying and you nod along, as if you’re understanding what they’re saying, but you quickly shake your head and cross your arms over your chest. 

“I’d never do what to you, Isaac?” You ask, your eyebrows furrowing as you say the words you were speaking, “I’ve fallen in love with someone, Isaac, I don’t think that involves you at all.”

“But you know I can’t stand him!” 

“Still here, you know.” Harry mutters, lifting his hands up and walking away from them slightly. 

You turn over to look at Harry and glare at him slightly before you turn your attention back to Isaac, “Why do you think I didn’t tell you? I knew that you’d react like this.” 

“What? I’d react completely sane, YN?” Isaac scoffs and shakes his head. 

“Sane?” You physically can’t believe what you’re hearing, “Isaac, you don’t have the right to act like this over who is my boyfriend. Yeah, I understand that you don’t like Harry and he isn’t particularly fond of you either, but you don’t have a say in that.” You stop slightly and let out a sigh of relief when you realise that you’ve got him listening, “I would completely understand if you were upset about me not telling you and lying to you, but that is what you can be mad at.” 

He looks at you but then he shakes his head, and you know that everything that you’ve just said has gone and he couldn’t care less about it now. 

“YN.” You know that tone of voice anywhere, and you couldn’t believe that he was still acting like this, “It’s Harry. You don’t know the shit that he said, and you don’t know what it was like to sit and listen to him saying everything he said about you.” 

This time, it’s you who lets the words that he’s just spoken sink in for a while. If what Harry had said to you earlier was true, that all your brother had to be upset about was him saying that he liked you and wanted to ask you out. Now, you’re not exactly sure how the male mind works, but you’re pretty sure that Isaac can distinguish between someone saying that they like someone and something else. You turn to look at Harry and he looks down at the floor, and that’s when you realise very quickly that there was something else to the story that you didn’t know. The mere thought of it made you feel sick. What had actually been said that night?

“Isaac.” You turn back to look at him, “What was said?” 

“YN.” He shakes his head, scratching his forehead slightly, “I don’t want to tell you.” 

“Tell me.” Your words are harsh and you can tell by the way that Harry backs away from you that you’re about to be in for a real treat, “Tell me!” 

“When we were in high school, we had this list.” Isaac starts, and you know that what he is saying is probably really important context but you just want him to get to the point, “And on this list, we’d rank who we thought were the most fuck-able girls in the school.” 

Your entire heart plummets to the pit of your stomach, “That’s disgusting. You should be ashamed of yourselves.” 

“I am, don’t worry.” Isaac nods, “Harry never got involved with it, and we all knew why, because he was the good one who never cared about those things and everyone just accepted that. I certainly did.” 

“Just get on with it, Isaac.” 

“Well, we were in Eugene’s basement and we were high and drunk and everything was just a little blurred if I’m honest, but I asked Harry a question. I said, best friend to best friend, if you were to pick one person to go on the top of the list, and just be his one person and nobody apart from us would ever find out, he turned to me and said: you.” 

You can’t figure out what your angrier at. You can’t decide whether it’s because Harry had actually said those words to your brother, degrading you in such a way that you had never ever expected him to or the fact that he had lied to you about what had actually happened. In honesty, you do think that thing that has upset you the most was that he didn’t tell you the truth. He could have told you what had actually happened earlier on in the day on you wouldn’t have cared, because you knew that he was high and drunk and he probably wouldn’t have meant it but the fact that he lied, made you feel sick to your stomach. It made you question whether or not he had lied to you at other points and you just hadn’t known because you were too naïve to see it. 

You turn to look at Harry and he’s looking directly back at you, not at the ground and not anywhere else but directly at you. 

“Harry.” You can already feel the tears start to form within your eyes, “Tell me it’s not true.” 

Harry shakes his head and looks down at the ground, and you shake your head to try and back the tears. You know that if you open your mouth words will tumble out that you really don’t mean, and you know that you can’t let that happen but you’re in such a state that you know that you’re mind would be clouded with how upset you are. 

“He knows it’s fucking, true, YN.” Isaac says from behind you, “That’s why we fucking fought and punched the living daylights out of each other.” 

You shake your head again, the tears involuntarily spilling down your cheek, “Harry. Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“I thought—” He starts but then he shakes his head, “I didn’t—”

Just like you couldn’t find the words to say, it seemed as though Harry couldn’t either. You really didn’t care about what he said, and you wouldn’t care about what he said. There were things that you’d said when you were younger and in high school that you certainly regretted and you would hate if anyone was to bring them up but you wouldn’t lie about it. You had lied in the past and done things in the past that you didn’t agree with, but it wasn’t as though you were doing it for any other reason but to protect the relationships that you had made with people. 

“Harry.” He lifts his head to look at you, “I think you should go.” 

“YN. . .” He takes a step forward towards you but you hold your hand up. 

“Just for tonight.” You nod your head, “We’ll speak tomorrow. We all just need to. . . calm down.” 

“But YN. . .” He takes another step forward but you shake your head. 

“Please, Harry.” You close your eyes, “Just for tonight.” 

He doesn’t seem very happy with what you had said but he nods at you once before walking over to his car and getting in. He slams the door closed behind him, and you flinch when he does so. You watch through the window as he looks at you one last time before starting the engine and driving. 

He drives on, and he doesn’t look back, not even one last time and you watch as his car disappears off the street. Once you know that he’s gone, you start walking towards the end of the drive and down to the pavement. 

“YN—” Isaac starts but you turn to look at him and shake your head. 

“Not now.” You run a hand through your hair, “I’m going to Daisy’s. I’ll be fine.” 

With that, you walk down the street and towards Daisy’s house, the thoughts of what had just happened dancing around in your head. You knew that this was going to happen at some point, and it would all blow up in your face, you just hadn’t know that it would be like this.

The next day you return home with bags underneath your eyes and yawns escaping your lips. You would say that you’re nervous, but after being up all night with worry in your stomach, you’re pretty certain that you’re just a little anxious but the thing that overwhelms your brain more than anything is the want for all of this to be over. You needed to sort things out with your brother, so you could go back to being siblings that annoy each other more than anything, and then you need to sort everything out with Harry. You knew that it was going to be hard, and you knew that your emotions were going to be high but you needed to get it over and done with. You weren’t going to allow your life to be like this for longer than it needed to be, and it didn’t need to be at all. 

When you walked through the front door of your house, you didn’t know what you were expecting to see, but you really didn’t expect what you saw. Isaac was laid across the couch, with empty beer bottles on the table in front of him. You knew why he had done it, and you hated that it was your fault that he had done it but at the same time he was a grown man, just like you were a grown woman, and he knew that this wasn’t the right way to go about things. 

With a sigh, you walked over to the sofa and picked up one of the cushions by Isaac’s feet and threw it air his head. He groaned and moved around and that was when you nudged his legs so that you could sit down. He groaned again but moved them away, and you heard him yawn and felt his body lift up from beside you so that he was upright. 

“How’s the head?” You mumble, crossing your arms over your chest and leaning back in the seat. 

He groans and does the same, “It’s been better.” 

You chuckle and close your eyes, allowing a slight calmness to wash over your body. If there was one thing that you missed about getting older, was not being able to have the stupid conversations with him that made absolutely no sense to anybody but the two of them. But, something that you did know was that even when this was all sorted and everything went back to normal, you wouldn’t be surprised if not everything went back to normal between the two of you. It was something hard to understand, but you just had to accept it because you wouldn’t be surprised if it took years to fix. 

There’s a silence between the two of you for a while, but you quickly realise that isn’t going to help you in your situation so without really thinking you collect yourself and let out a small breath that you didn’t know you had been hiding for a while. 

“I’m sorry.” You say, the words coming out of your mouth stronger than you had expected them to. You thought that they would at least be broken, but they weren’t, “I’m sorry for everything, but most importantly, I’m sorry for lying and keeping it from you.” 

You don’t know what Isaac is going to say, and the fact that you don’t does make you worry slightly but you know that you’d be able to handle whatever he was going to say. You would be able to handle it because you were strong, at this point you needed to be. 

“I accept your apology.” He says, and you turn to look at him with tears in your eyes. He nods at you and smiles, “The more I thought about it, the more I understood why you did it. If the shoe was on the other foot I would’ve done the exact same thing. I wouldn’t have even hesitated to.” 

You nod your head and close your eyes, a few tears falling from them but you’re quick to lift your hand and wipe them away. He reaches over and grabs your hand, and you squeeze his as you do so. 

“I shouldn’t have lied to you though.” You shake your head, “We don’t lie to each other.” 

“Oh.” Isaac shakes his head and you furrow your eyebrows at him, “We don’t lie to each other but we certainly keep secrets. The amount I’ve kept from you. . . you’d probably kill me.” 

Your lips part in shock, “Are you going to tell me them?” 

“No.” He shakes his head, a chuckle leaving his lips, “I maybe will later, but right now, you’ve got somewhere to be.” 

“Have I?” He taps his hand on your leg and stands up, and all you can do is furrow your eyebrows in response. 

“You have.” You watch as he grabs his jacket and places it on his body, “And I’m going to take you there.” 

You know straight away that Isaac is talking about going to see Harry, and just the fact that he was going to take you made you want to burst out into even more tears that you had been before. You didn’t though, because you were able to keep your calm and just smile and nod along with him, but it was certainly hard for you to do. It felt as though you were getting acceptance from Isaac and although you knew that you didn’t really need it, it sure felt good to have. You offered him a quick smile and got into his car, driving you to Harry’s and leaving you there with a squeeze of his hand. 

Even though you weren’t that nervous when it came to talking to Isaac, speaking to Harry was a completely different thing. Whereas you and Isaac had a sibling bond that could never be broken, you and Harry had a bond, one that was love to the highest degree, but it was still a love that could be broken. You just hoped that this wasn’t it and you hadn’t met the point of no return just yet. 

You palms were sweaty as you knocked on his door, and your heart felt as though it was going to beat out of your chest but you knew that this was the right thing to do. You could hear shuffling behind the door, and then it swung open, and you wanted to sigh in relief just at the sight of him stood there. He looked like he hadn’t slept, but you hadn’t either so it was something that you both had in common, and he had his joggers hung low on his hips in a way that you always found so endearing whenever he did it. 

“Hi.” You say, the corners of your lips tilting upwards slightly, “Can I come in?” 

He opens his mouth as if to say something but then he just ends up nodding his head and opening the door wider so your body can slip through. It looks exactly the same as the last time you had been there, and it felt comfortable and like your home. It certainly was your home away from home, and living with Harry would be something that you wouldn’t mind doing in the future if time permitted you too. You had to remind yourself to take a few steps back and look at the situation ahead of you, and how you had a lot of things that you needed to talk about before anything else in the future could happen. 

Walking into the apartment, you hear Harry shut the door behind you. You knew that he wasn’t too far behind you, so you turned around.

“I didn’t think you’d be here so soon.” He muttered, shrugging his shoulders, “I thought you’d need a few days.” 

“I said I would talk to you tomorrow.” You smile and nod your head, “I’m wasn’t about to go back on that.” 

You swear you can see the slight lift of the corner of his lips, and it’s the first sign to you that everything might actually end up being okay. 

“I know you think we have things to talk about but I actually just have one thing to say.” He says, taking a step forward towards you. You watch as he hesitantly reaches out and grabs your hand, and you smile at just the feeling of his skin on yours again, “I’m sorry, That’s all I can say. I’m sorry that I said those things all those years ago, and I’m more sorry that I didn’t tell you about it when I had the chance. It was stupid of me, and I can understand if you want to. . . if you want to.” He physically stops and you can tell that he’s struggling with something, “If you want to break up with me.” 

You gasp at his words, taking a step forward and placing your hands on his cheeks, “Harry. . . no. Don’t think that. I’m not going to break up with you over that.” 

You can hear him physically sigh and you couldn’t even understand why he dared to think the way that he was, “I didn’t know. I didn’t know how you’d think.” 

“Harry.” You lean forward so that your forehead is on his, “I’m upset that you lied, but I did too. If anything, we’re just as bad as each other. That’s probably why we’re so perfect for each other, right?” 

“Right.” He chuckled, nodding his head, “We’re perfect for each other. I love you so much, I’m so sorry.” 

“I’m sorry too.” You close your eyes as you let the words sink in, “If there’s one way I know how we’re never going to go through anything like this again, is if we promise to never keep anything from each other again.” 

“We won’t.” He mumbles, “I won’t.” 

“Good. I won’t either.” Your hands grip onto his arms as they wrap around your neck, “I need you, Harry Styles. I do.” 

“I need you too.” 

With that you open your eyes so that you can look directly in his, a small smile breaking over your lips at the fact the two of you knew that he needed you just as much as you needed him. It certainly made this entire situation feel as though it happened for a reason, that it happened so that you could be stronger than you already were. You never doubted that he loved you, and that you loved him, but there was the doubt that everything would have caught up with you, and that was something that you knew would be your fault. All of this was your fault, for not being honest in the first place, but that didn’t mean that you couldn’t find it in yourself to be honest now and get you and Harry through this. 

Without even the slightest hint of hesitation you lean forward and place your lips on his, and he didn’t wait to kiss back, his tongue moving against his bottom lip before pushing it through your parted lips. Your tongue met his in your mouth, and you pulled each other closer, grasping at each other with the want and need that never stopped when you were around him. The spark that you always felt when you were with him ran all the way down from the skin of your lips to the tip of your toes, fluttering all over your body. You had told him that you needed him, which was the truth, but you were soon starting to realise that there was more to the need you had for Harry than what met the eye. It was something that went past all of the words in the dictionary to actions that you needed to name, and that’s why you pulled away and rested your head on his forehead. 

“Harry.” You mumble, “Take me to the bedroom.” 

He pulls away and furrows his eyebrows, not expecting those words to slip from your mouth, “Are you sure? We don’t have to.” 

“I’m sure.” You mumble against his lips, “Never been more certain of anything in my entire life.” 

He presses kisses against your neck and shoulders as he places you down on the bed, his body hovering over yours. When he starts to put a little more pressure on your skin with his teeth, you can’t help the light moans that start to escape your lips. He starts to toy with the hem of your shirt, and you respond to him by lifting your legs and wrapping them around his waist. Your hips move in circular motions to his, and it’s his turn to moan into you. 

You pull away and sit up, pulling your shirt over your head and revealing your bra to him. It wasn’t the nicest bra you owned, but it got to the point in your relationship when you didn’t need to wear fancy lingerie all of the time to feel good enough for him, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t every now and then to feel sexy. Every now and then, though, just like you felt now, you realise that you don’t need to wear anything to feel sexy because just the way that Harry looked at you made you feel like that. The was his eyes raked up and down your body, across every inch of skin that he could see. That made you feel sexy. The way he looked at you made you feel sexy. 

“Missed this.” He leans over and places a kiss to the skin of your shoulder, “Missed you. You’re so fucking beautiful, YN, you have no idea.” 

You lean forward and capture your lips again on his, slipping your arm around his shoulder so that you could run your nails down his back, scratching lightly as you did so. He took it upon himself to slip his hands between the two of you and unbutton your trousers, pulling them as well as your panties down your legs. You remove your arms from around his neck so that you can unclip your bra and pull it down from your torso and throw it down on the floor with the rest of your clothes. This was how you loved it to be with Harry. You just loved it when the two of you were together, alone. You guessed a part of it was because that was all you ever knew of it. 

Harry was the most loving and beautiful person you’d met in your life, and you would have loved to be able to show him off to the world as the one you loved but it just wasn’t that easy, but now you had the slight suspicion that you might be able to, and a part of you was excited about that. 

Your hands extend back out to him, pulling his body back down so that he was hovering above you again. He places a single kiss to your lips before moving his way down your body, placing kisses to your chest before moving down to the top of your breast and then down towards your nipples. He moves from each of them, one to the other, giving each of them the attention that he always does. You smile and thread your fingers through his hair, running through the curls that sat on top of his head. You used it to pull his head back up and place his lips on yours again. He responds by immediately kissing you back, and he wraps his arms around you so that he could flip you over, so that you’re resting above him now. 

You pulled back and rested your forehead against his, “You want me on top?” He nodded and you smiled, watching as he slipped his hands into each side of his joggers before pulling them down his legs, as well as his boxers, revealing his cock. You manoeuvre your body so that you’re further down the bed and so that your head is at the same level as him, and you lean forward, pressing a singular kiss to the tip. The sound that emits from his throat causes you to not hesitate in leaning forward and wrapping your lips around the top of him, starting to bob your head at a slow pace that you know is seemingly working because you can see his stomach moving up and down at a quick pace. Groans tumble from his lips, and you know that he’ll be getting close but before he can do anything else his hands press against your cheeks and lift you back up so that he can kiss you again. 

“Don’t you wanna. . . ?” You ask, your eyebrows furrowing as you look at him. 

“No.” He shakes his head, placing his lips on yours, “I don’t want anything but to be inside of you right now.” 

You watched as he moved backwards slightly, so that you were close enough to the wall that you could rest of your hand against the wall as you manoeuvre yourself over him. His cock slips between your folds, and words can’t describe how wet you are for him, dripping all over him. You place your lips on his again and start to move yourself up and down his cock. The groan that escapes his lips is unlike any you’ve heard before, and you can’t help the smile that dances across your lips. 

“You’re drenched for me.” He groans against your lips, “Fuck, I wanna be inside of you.” 

“Be my guest.” You grin, and you watch as he leans down to grab his cock in his fist and you lift up so that you can line yourself up with him. You grasp his shoulder as you slowly sink down on him, the familiar feeling of having him fill you up overwhelming you. You had been together for three years and no matter how many times you had sex, it still manages to overwhelm you more than words can explain. You whimper when he’s fully inside of you, hesitating for a few minutes before you press your lips to his in another short kiss. 

“So fucking tight.” He mumbles, “Best fucking feeling in the world.” 

You tilt your head back slightly with a smile crossing your lips, “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.” 

He chuckles but that’s quickly shut off when you start to move, bouncing up and down on his cock. Your nails scrape down his back as you move, and you can’t help the moans of profanities that leave your lips as you move. You knew you were squeezing yourself around him, it was always something that you did that caused him to clench his jaw, just has he was doing now. You quickly found a rhythm, swirling your hips and grinding them in a way that had both of you moaning out each others names. 

You tilted your head back when he hit a spot deep inside of you that sent a wave of pleasure rushing over your body. He didn’t even hesitate to lean forward and capture your nipple in his mouth, flicking his tongue over the bud slightly before moving to the other. He wrapped his arms around your body and slipped them down your back, all the way until he grabbed the flesh of your ass and squeezed. His movements were harsh, but they sent a wave of pleasure through your entire body. 

“YN.” You hum, leaning forward and resting your head on his shoulder, not stopping the movements on his hips, “You’re never going to leave me, are you?” 

You move so that you’re sat up straight and look at him, “Why would you think that? I’m not going to leave you, Harry, never.” 

“Good.” He leans forward and placing his lips back on yours. Your movements don’t slow down, if anything, they speed up and a string of moans escape your lips. His hands are all over your body, and his lips are too, and the the feeling starts to rush over you. You manage to keep your hips moving at the pace for a while before you slow down, and Harry notices this and quickly flips you both over. You lay on your back with your head on the pillow, and Harry doesn’t even hesitate when he slips back into you. His movements aren’t fast, but they’re certainly deep. 

“So fucking deep, Harry. Feels so fucking good.” Your words only seem to egg Harry on, especially the way your nails scratch down his back, “I’m so close.”

Harry was hitting just as deeply inside of you as he had been when you were riding him, and the feeling tips you closer and closer to the edge. Your hands drop down to your sides to grasp the duvet cover, and you turn your head so that you can muffle the obnoxiously loud moans that you couldn’t help leaving your lips. 

“I know you are baby.” One of his hands slips through yours, “Don’t hide them moans though, let me hear them, baby, you know what it does to me.” 

You move your head back so that he can hear your moans, and he smiles as he continues to fuck you. It doesn’t take long before he’s tipping you over the edge and your orgasm hits you. It’s one of the most powerful you’ve ever had, and you have every reason to believe that it’s because of how high emotions are between the two of you at the moment. It’s intense and you can feel it everywhere, all over your entire body and more so in the pit of your stomach. Harry didn’t stop his movements, not until he hit his high as well and spilled into you. You didn’t care about anything else in that moment though, because you felt closer to Harry now than you even had been, and you never wanted it to change again. 

Once he pulls out of you, a whimper immediately leaving your lips due to the emptiness you now feel. He quickly cleans you up, and then drops into the bed beside you, and you don’t even hesitate when you wrap your arm around his waist and rest your head upon his chest. When your eyes close, you let out a sigh of relief. 

“Harry.” He hums, and you can feel the vibration of his chest beneath your ear, “I’m sorry I told you to drive away.” 

“Don’t be.” He mumbles, his fingertips dancing along the skin of your arm, “We’ve all done thing that we aren’t proud of, but we have a new start. One where we don’t have to keep this a secret.” 

You nod and smile, still not opening your eyes, “I love you.” 

“Love you too, baby.” 

[trashballerina]

Jojo Fic Recs Because Brainrot

 ALSO PART SIX IS GONNA GET ANIMATED 

So this little funky dude  ⭐ means I really like the fic and highly recommend it lol.

Gemini Dream by batringlamb

After the war is won, Giorno tries to give his deceased associates a new lease on life. And it works! It works well.

There's just some unexpected side effects.

In which Leone Abbacchio finds himself sharing his body with the soul of Bruno Buccellati. Discovering someone else’s hopes and dreams has never been so literal.

(Came back for you. Glad to see that you came too.)

Thoughts: YEAH IM CRYING SO WHAT. Dude this fic is so good. I’m not gonna specify, but there’s this sequence near the end that is so beautifully written I reread it for serotonin. It’s just such a cool concept. I really also love Giorno’s characterization in this because he like, “I have everything under control” and proceeds to not have everything under control. Great fic. Brb, gonna go read again. 

The Teenage Feeling by etymologyplayground  ⭐

"You're a cat dad," Narancia gasps. Abbacchio rolls his eyes. "Of course. So you want to die surrounded by cats?"

"Yes, but more importantly, I want them to eat my corpse when I die," Abbacchio says, an awful grin spreading across his face.

Thoughts: This fic is just peak Bucci gang interactions. It’s really funny, heart-felt, and captures just how weird everyone is. It’s somehow stays lighthearted while being morbid. This fic always manages to make me laugh and some of the quips are really funny. Highly recommend. 

Should Have Known Better by  inmyopinion

Suzie Q's death brought about immeasurable pain, and an unexpected visitor.

Thoughts: PAIN AND TEARS but also a really good read. The description tells you what is going to happen, but it still hurts. The beginning starts with some brief but soft Joseph and Suzie but quickly gets angsty from there. Sorry. But you should read it. 

Gold and Sapphires by  Yuki1014o

Giorno was not fazed by anything--almost anything. You could say that the invitation to a family reunion startled him.

Alternatively Titled: Giorno goes to Japan and finds a family

Thoughts: Good fic. Good balance between angst and wholesome. While the family seems ready to accept Giorno, he feels hesitant and I really like seeing how hesitant he is about the idea of family because of his background. Also, Shizuka is in this so I’m automatically biased. But seriously Giorno has some really great moments while interacting with the different Joestars and extended family. 

Little Boy Blue and the Man in the Moon by  Blinky_Winky_Nod

In the afterlife, a system exists where dead parents may watch their living children grow up.

Thoughts: I’m sorry most of these are part five centric, it’s not even my favorite part lol. I really love Jonathan’s POV whenever he watches Giorno. Like he’s such a deep, loving person, but seeing his inability to help and just watch hurts me. Also Dio. That’s it, just Dio. I really like this fic for the differing POV’s and characterization of Jonathan. 

Scary Monsters ( and Super Creeps) TheAuthorWishesToRemainAnonymous (on-going) ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

He had a horror of rooms / He was tired / You can't hide beat / When I looked in his eyes they were blue but nobody home / He could've been a killer / If he didn't walk the way he do, and he do / He opened strange doors that we'd never close again

Another JJBA Fantasy/Magic AU that nobody asked for. White Witch Bruno Bucciarati becomes adept in the care of magical creatures, after finding himself running a home for misfit cryptids

Thoughts: MY FAVORITE ON-GOING FIC. I think I’ve reread it like three times so far. For one, I love fantasy au, especially the cryptic sort, so much. Seeing Bruno adopt an assorted bunch of cryptics is beautiful. I think the author gets really creative about some of monster traits and how their family functions. And while Bruno has a good heart, he keeps the kids around for other reasons--nothing horrible or anything. Some chapters have just really great descriptions too and its quality found family.

My Right Hand Man by  TheDisc (TheDisco)  ⭐

Though every day of the following week was identical, Kira savoured it. Perfect peace in his quiet life, unnoticed and left alone—he couldn’t ask for anything more.

Before work on a Thursday morning, Kira checked his mailbox. He flipped through, sorting the junk from the important letters, almost mindlessly, until he got to an unmarked manilla folder at the bottom of the stack. Kira set the rest aside and opened the folder.

His heart stopped.

Inside were photographs. Photos of himself, taken through a window, kissing his girlfriend in his kitchen. Photos of him lovingly painting his girlfriend’s nails. Even photos of his girlfriend, from all angles, sitting out on the table and in the fridge, taken from inside his home.

Violent nausea washed over Kira. His stomach twisted into a knot, his chest clenched with anger.

As Kira slid the photos back into the folder, he noted a letter tucked inside. Despite the waves of sickness washing through him, he managed enough coordination to read it.

And then he read it over again. And again. And again.

(Kira gets blackmailed into spending Christmas with his new neighbours.)

Thoughts: Look, we all have that one rarepair that just doesn’t get the content it deserves and any existing content doesn’t exactly pique your specific interests, but this one really makes up for a lot of the lack of content. Its kiraboss. Kinda messed up but they’re serial killers, so obviously lol. I like this fic an unreasonable amount. Kira’s POV is very good and I’m a sucker for the descriptions of his emotions--especially anxiety. 10/10

[taechaos]

That scenario was really good😱 Yeonjun’s last line made me GASP lolol

can you do another scenario where Yeonjun gifts OC roses and a teddy bear through a delivery service so she is shocked when she receives them, how would Jungkook react? 😱

I love jealous/pissed/possessive Jungkook 🥵

YALL JUST REALLY LOVE THE DRAMA 💀💀 making my man suffer like this,,, you'll be hearing from my lawyers

im gonna be including this bit in the scenario so 😎

"Is this for you or me?" you ask Soyeon who can barely keep her eyes open after waking her upon seeing a bunch of gifts when you opened the door of your dorm room to attend your morning lecture. It's a teddy bear holding a bouqet of roses in its fluffy paw, sitting on the hall floor to provide you with today's first surprise.

You know Soyeon is single, and you know Jungkook like the back of your hand: his romance doesn't extend to these cheesy gestures. It may seem rude to not even think of the possibility that it might be your boyfriend's doing, and despite being such a hopeless romantic, you're certain it's not from him.

Soyeon grumbles drowsily as she stretches before rubbing her eyes with her fists. "What?" she yawns tiredly.

"That," you point past the open door and she follows the direction of your finger with puffy eyes.

"Definitely not," she answers with a sleep strained voice. "Look for a card." She doesn't leave room for a response before turning on her side to face away from you and fall back asleep.

You listen to her advice and crouch before the toy to search for anything that would reveal the identity of the delivery person. It's with close inspection that you find a white card stuffed between the roses.

In your hand it reads: Good morning, beautiful. Can't wait to see you in Human Anatomy.

There's your clarity, and you can't doubt it's Yeonjun when Soyeon doesn't even take this course. It's pathetic, you think, to try and court someone who's already in a stable relationship. This isn't him going after you, but beckoning you to go to him just like he said you would before calling your boyfriend a cliché. It more or less sounds like a mind game, and you're stuck between ignoring his advances completely or confronting him about it.

Yeonjun seemed like an understanding guy; he did say he wouldn't go around you asking for a date, and for two days, he hasn't. If he takes orders so well, it wouldn't hurt to tell him to leave you alone once and for all.

That's your reasoning to march down the hall and find Yeonjun after crumbling the note and leaving the gift on someone else's doorstep. Front rows are your go-to spot to not miss a single detail in your lecture, and it's no shocker seeing Yeonjun sitting on a front row bench.

You clench your fists and scowl to intimidate the creep before stomping over to him. Dismissing your demands is out of the question when your stance nothing short of angry. He needs to know you're not playing around, that he can't manipulate your naivety like he's attempting to.

His eyes twinkle the moment they land on you and he stops spinning his pencil to give you his utmost attention. Good, he's listening. You don't trespass the barrier in the form of a stretched out table between you two as you glower over him.

"I'm gonna make this short," you glare with slit eyes, "I don't want anything that has your fingerprints on it nor do I want to hear you speak to me ever again. Leave me alone or I will report you for harrassment. Say yes if you understand."

The light in his gaze dims momentarily as his awed smile falters. "Y-Yes." He appears afraid and innocent, but your gut denies it. "But may I ask why?"

"Oh, you know why," you scoff in a hushed voice, "I don't want your stupid cards and your stupid gifts, and most of all, I don't want you. Get that through your thick skull."

He never knew you could be this mean, and it almost throws off the sweet impression he has of you until he remembers that you're just loyal. He loves that you're so faithful, and he wants you to be faithful to him only. He craves it so deeply, but he says nothing of the sort and instead stammers, "I-I understand. I-I'm sorry, I'll leave you alone if that's what you wa–"

The slam of the lecture room's doors echo in the spacious hall, and you hurriedly take a seat on the edge of the bench to distance yourself from Yeonjun as much as possible. He has to bite his lip to stop a smile from growing on his face from having you sit next to him.

But just as you requested, he doesn't interact with you throughout the lecture except for a few glances to drink in the sight of you being so close to him. Instances like these are the only time he can feel intimate with you, but it'll only get better on from here.

Because the professor assigns a pair project before you're dismissed.

"Before you leave, by the end of the term, you will have a report submitted in pairs regarding senses that affect the human system in a topic of your choice. More information on the college website, along with the assigned pairs. You can go."

"I already checked," Yeonjun whispers to you, making you immediately wear a distasteful expression, "I'm your partner."

"Nuh-uh," you deny childishly before taking out your phone as you stand from the bench to leave after packing your stationaries. You log onto the site just as you receive a notification from Jungkook.

the love of my life ♡: no good morning text? sus

You have to swipe it away out of worry that you'll actually be forced to spend time with Jungkook's new nemesis. The site loads. You scroll past the details of the task and finally land on the pairs.

And there it is—your name next to Yeonjun's on the screen.

"No," you exhale to yourself and rush out to the hall to avoid Yeonjun. "No, no, no."

Below the names explicitly states: No changes in the assigned pairs. It's too big of a coincidence for you to think it's just your bad luck—you're certain bribery is involved, and how lovely that you can't do anything about it.

You take pride in your intelligence, but you can't outsmart him in this situation, especially when your grades are being held over your head to force yourself to be around Yeonjun. Jungkook would get arrested for murder if you involved him in it, and he surely wouldn't leave you alone if you told him about it.

But then again, you promised—no more secrets.

You: good morning kookie!! i was a little busy so i couldn't text you :< did you sleep well?? <3

"Fuck, fuck," you shriek to yourself as you keep walking, not paying attention to where your feet are leading you. Just as long as you're safe from Yeonjun so Jungkook wouldn't find you with him. You need to tell him when the guy isn't around, so you need to wait until his lecture's over–

Yeonjun calls for your name softly while running past the roaming students, and you stop on your tracks with the desire to spit out every insult you have in mind to his face.

"You asshole!" you grit the moment he faces you while breathing heavily. "You planned this, didn't you? I said–"

"I-I'm sorry, but I had nothing to do with it," he pleads with that innocent expression of his. "I promise I-I won't act like before! I'll respect your relationship and stop being weird!"

"Good," you jab a finger at his chest as you seethe, "I don't want to spend any more time with you than I have to."

He frowns with a jutting bottom lip, looking like a kicked puppy as his eyes turn glossy. You are so mean, and he hates it, but his only leverage is that he can be meaner—not to you, never you, but to Jungkook. He's a step ahead of you, and you can shower him with all the bad words you can think of until you heart is content, but he sees it as just a step in the process of owning you.

You think he's submissive and persistent, but no, he's just manipulative.

—

"Don't get mad," you warily caution while lying down on the grass next to your boyfriend, basking in the sun to last the peaceful atmosphere a little longer. His arm is under your back and his hand on your chest as you hold it.

He has his eyes closed as he says, "no promises."

"We promised to tell each other everything, and there's nothing you can do about this one so please don't get mad at me." He quirks a brow when he opens his eyes to see your timid face. "Remember Yeonjun?"

"You have to be fucking kidding me," he groans angrily as he sits up, prompting you to do the same. "You talked to him, didn't you? I specifically fucking said–"

"Can you just listen?" you sigh. "We have a project together." His brows scrunch intimidatingly, making it harder to say what's on your mind. "And this is unrelated but... he brought a gift to my doorstep."

He doesn't say anything for a few seconds. "Is there anything more I should listen to? Are you done?"

"H-he said he'd stop acting weird and respect our relation–"

"Fucking bullshit. What, did he also say he just wants to be friends? That he's not interested in you anymore?"

"He didn't say that–"

"And you didn't tell the professor you wanted a different partner? Did you keep the gift too?" he sneers mockingly.

"Jungkook, I can't switch, and no I didn't keep the freaking gift," you defend, feeling offended. He can be so provocative when he's mad. It isn't even your fault! "I'm telling you, there's nothing I can do except to convince him to work together online. Isn't that better?"

He grabs your jaw and pulls you a little closer. His grip is bordering on painful and you hold back a wince. "Are you fucking hearing yourself? You can't even be around him and yet you're not allowed to switch? Listen to me. You go to that fucking professor, tell him this guy is harrassing you and that you can't work with him, and if they don't listen, you go the headmaster. You hear me?" he slightly jolts you to command an answer.

"Y-Yes, but–"

"Don't make any fucking excuses," he hisses and lets go of your face. "If you don't do something about it while I'm giving you the chance, then I will."

You hold onto your chin as you meekly question, "what will you do?"

"Things don't need to escalate," he shrugs as he lies back down. "I'll threaten him with my pocket knife and one wrong word from him, I'll use it."

"Like kill him?" you exclaim in shock.

He rolls his eyes. You take him too seriously sometimes. "No. Just send a message. Now go run off to your professor before I ask Yoongi to be my alibi."

[out-of-jams]

Vesper || jjk

↠ Vesper↞ “There’s a first time for everything.”

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings/Genre: doberman hybrid!kook. human reader. explicit language. fluff. PG 13. one shot.

This fic is apart of The Hybrid Collab hosted by @jeonggukkiepabo​! A special thank you to Anna for bearing with my idiotic forgetfulness, aka me writing this and then forgetting to post it over my hiatus. 🥴 ᵖˡˢ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʰᵃᵗᵉ ᵐᵉ  (also it’s a lot shorter now than it had been when i’d written it bc sfw lol)

All works here are purely fiction. Everything I write is my intellectual property and therefore belongs to me. ©out-of-jams. Do not copy or repost without permission. That is illegal and you are stealing no matter if you give credit or not

Cold – adjective.

Definition: freezing your fucking ass off.

You were well acquainted with the word– all but became one with it– what, with how absolutely balls cold out it was. The line to get into Vesper was stretched all the way down the sidewalk outside of the building, and extended out of sight around the corner. Sounds of city life echoed through the streets, cars zooming in between traffic and music leaking out of the bars.

From the crack in Vesper’s backdoor, the beginning’s of a hip-hop song filtered from the expensive sound system. It was loud, eardrum-rattling so, and you closed your eyes, leaning against the brick wall off to the side. A cloud of white left your parted lips as your warm breath hit the biting chill in the air. It was too bad that you were nowhere near drunk enough for the weather not to bother you.

Why you’d chosen to follow your friends out in sub-freezing temperatures was a mystery. You hated clubs, how packed to the walls they were, filled with writhing bodies so close together like sardines. It made you feel utterly claustrophobic, but it was your friend’s birthday and so you couldn’t opt out of following along with the group’s plans for the night. Not that you were ever able to say no to them when they insisted on dragging you out to the place.

Vesper was a popular club that you were sometimes forced to go to, located in the heart of downtown that catered to not only humans, but hybrids as well. It wasn’t the first establishment to do so, seeing as how hybrids integrated into society more than a decade ago. No longer were they as discriminated against as they once were, back when they first came about.

No one was 100% certain on how they’d even come to be; some sort of radiation exposure. The first hybrids had been humans, before they changed, morphed. Due to some sort of exposure to radiation, their cells had multiplied and transformed over the course of a few weeks until half of their genetic makeup resembled animal genes.

While the blatant racism had died out over the years, some, the more elitist members of society, still discriminated against hybrids. Looked down at them because they were born to be ruled more by their animal instincts than their human counterparts. Treated them as less-than because they weren’t completely human, when they were really just misunderstood.

Because of the fact that they were more tapped into their animal side and therefore behaved that way, hybrids used to be seen as beings who could be let loose into society. Who could not “control themselves.” So they took them as pets, tried to tame and sell them.

Shaking yourself out of your thoughts, you fished a cardboard box from the inside pocket of your coat. The sound of you tapping out a white cigarette was in time with the beat of the song pouring outside, and blended in with the cars honking out past the alleyway. Normally, you weren’t one for smoking. But after the stress of college finals week on top of the feeling of the walls closing in on you back inside Vesper, you’d asked one of your friends for their carton in hopes of calming your racing heart.

“Shit,” you murmured as you scoured your pant pockets for a lighter and then groaned when you failed to find one.

Because of course, your luck was anything but lucky and you really didn’t feel like trying to part the sea of sweaty people back inside in search of one. Pursing your lips, you let your head tip back against the brick wall behind you and let your eyes flit over the light polluted sky like it somehow held the answers to all of your life’s problems.

“Need a light?”

The addition of a new voice had you jumping away from the wall with a startled squeak. Hand pressed to your chest as if that would somehow restart your skipping heart, you whirled around. Standing in the now wide-opened back doorway into Vesper was a familiar face. Well, as familiar as a practical stranger could be.

Beneath the single, flickering light in the alley, his black t-shirt with SECURITY printed in white glowed in the surrounding darkness. It stretched itself over his broad shoulders, the bottom tucked into the slim waist of his pants. Your gaze slowly slid up his tanned neck, past his coral colored, pouty lips, sharp jaw, and the straight bridge of his nose. His wavy, dark hair was parted a little off-center, the sides falling over his forehead until it threatened to hide his stare from your view.

Finally, your eyes met his. Framed by long eyelashes, they were a bright, inhuman shade of lilac. Not all hybrids were equipped with the features of one, like a set of sensitive, animal-like ears or even a tail. If a human and a hybrid got together and had children, those kids would end up possessing more human cells than animal. Therefore, their appearances mirrored that.

But they were never completely indiscernible.

Just like every other time you’d ever laid your sights on him, your pulse skyrocketed and your stomach fell through the floor. And also like every other time, you pushed the feeling away and refused to acknowledge it. Because harboring a crush on a man who you’d only conversed with occasionally was a bad idea.

Especially when they were as handsome as he was.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Jungkook apologized shyly. His voice wasn’t too deep, nor was it high; lying right in the middle. Switzerland

“No, it’s alright.”

It was notalright, if only because the man made you feel flustered.

The only time the two of you really interacted was whenever he’d be scheduled to man security at Vesper’s entrance checking IDs. A small comment about the weather here, a compliment given with a flash of a smile with the reddening of cheeks there. Hell, the only reason you even knew his name was because it was etched onto the heart of his shirt.

“So,” Jungkook began, still standing in the doorway like some kind of club guardian. “Need a light?” He nodded his head at the unlit white stick tucked between your fingers, his parted hair brushing across his eyebrows with the movement.

“Oh. Yeah, you have one,” you asked.

He answered your query by pulling a lighter from the back of his pants pocket and finally slipped away from the door, leaving it open a crack so the two of you wouldn’t get locked out. The music flooding out from inside quieted down to a barely-there whisper. Pressing the cigarette between your lips, you almost faltered when he stepped close to you.

Jungkook’s body heat practically swallowed you whole as he entered your personal space with a cute smile pulling up at the corners of his lips. His two front teeth were a little too big for his mouth and you would’ve suspected his animal counterpart to be a bunny or rabbit of some sort if it wasn’t for his job. The small mammals tended to be pacifists and you doubted working as a security guard counted towards pacifism.

The lighter came to life with a clickand a tiny burst of flame, and you watched from beneath your lashes as he lit the end of your preferred cigarette. As soon as you felt the heat of the smoke sear itself into your lungs, a thought came to you.

“Wait,” you began, lowering the white stick from your lips to dangle from your cold fingers. “Doesn’t the smell bother you?”

Jungkook’s cheeks puffed up beneath the weight of another smile and he stepped back from crowding you to lean a shoulder against the brick wall. “My roommate, Yoongi, smokes. So I’m used to it.” He tapped a finger to his nose.

“If you’re sure,” you said hesitantly.

“I’m sure.”

Humming, you resumed your position of leaning against the brick, your shoulder only a few inches away from his. Hybrid’s tended not to wear perfume or cologne because of their elevated sense of smell, but Jungkook must have been wearing some. Or perhaps it was just the scent of his laundry detergent that drifted from his body like an invisible cloud.

It was comforting. In a way that you couldn’t quite understand.

Glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, you took a slow drag from your cigarette and made care to blow the resulting smoke away from him. “Ditching work?”

He was looking out past the alleyway and towards the busy street beyond. Jungkook’s side profile was stunning even in the near darkness. “Technically, I amworking.”

“Oh?” Your voice was filled with amusement. “Expecting someone to pop out from the darkness like Batman and attack the club?”

He snorted, his tongue darting out to wet his soft looking lips. “Batman would never attack a club.”

“There’s a first time for everything.” Shrugging, you sneaked a peak over at him again to notice him already looking at you. His violet hued eyes glowed brightly as they roved over your features appreciatively.

“How about a first date then?”

You sputtered, choking on nothing except air at his blunt words. “I–what?”

Jungkook broke eye contact for a moment, your reaction coaxing a light shade of pink onto his cheeks. “I like you. And I know we don’t really know each other, but we always end up running into each other, which is why I want to change that.” He looked back at you, expression soft. “If you’re interested, of course.”

“I..,” swallowing, your mouth opened and closed in shock before your tongue finally let the syllables slip. “I would like that very much.”

His answering grin lit up the shadows lingering in the alleyway.

[alittlewhump]

Unbidden - Act 3, chapter 8

Masterlist | Previous | Next

Content warnings: minor body horror

As directed, Morgan took his time. It gave him the opportunity to start getting used to controlling the golem. Blaise watched quietly as he ran through some exercises with both arms, working out the mental shortcuts he would need to get used to. Large motions involving the shoulder were the hardest to manage, having to coordinate the golem with the organic. He also had to concentrate harder than he'd expected on the elbow. There was a greater range of motion at his disposal now, but taking advantage of it made him feel nauseated. Bodies weren't meant to bend in certain ways, and it brought his mind back to a place he very much did not want it to be in. Eventually he settled on a basic system of mentally narrating his movements in a way that could easily be accompanied by the necessary push of will to command the golem. It could always be refined later.

The finer motions seemed to be working well, though the lack of tactile feedback made it harder to tell if they would work equally well if he wasn't watching so closely. He fished a length of leather cord out of the bottom of his potions bag to test. His injury had made it painful to grasp anything small and to raise his arm above shoulder height for any length of time, both of which were required to tie his hair back. He didn't often wear it that way, but it was useful to have it out of the way every now and again. It took several attempts, a great deal of caution after the first accidental pull, and some intense concentration, but at the end of it his efforts bore fruit in the form of a lopsided bow. He gave a small hum of satisfaction, pleased with the progress, and let the arm fall back into his lap to rest.

"That looked hard." Blaise was still watching him, idly picking a leaf into tiny pieces. There was a growing pile of shredded greenery in front of her.

"I can't really feel it," Morgan said. "I tried earlier, but it was... I got something wrong with the command. It didn't focus correctly."

"Can I help?"

"I don't know how you would."

"I don't know," Blaise echoed. "Maybe I can do something to help you focus." She reached forward, then paused. "If it's all right." At his bemused nod, she gently took his left hand and turned it palm up. "Close your eyes," she suggested. He did. "All right, now I'll do some shapes. And you can focus on guessing what they are, maybe."

It was an interesting approach. Morgan started slowly, more prepared for the sensations this time. The power draw was less uncomfortable now that he knew to expect it. It was something almost like a pinch, but still a marked improvement over the type of pain it had been before. This, he could acclimatize to. He catalogued the gently persistent throbbing around the connections, reconciled it with the beating of his heart, categorized it as ignorable and tried to let it fade away into the background. It worked reasonably well, which was a pleasant surprise.

Next he eased his focus over to the intermittent touch moving down the inner forearm to the palm, then going back up. There was so much information in each small interaction that he'd always taken for granted - pressure, temperature, texture. The golem helpfully provided all of that information with force, an insistence that almost felt like alarm. Morgan asked it to quiet down, please, and it slowly ebbed into something that didn't set him on edge quite so badly. It would be ideal if he could figure out how to make it trigger only when touched, instead of having to give it commands to turn on or off. He toyed with that for a little while, getting used to the way it lit up his awareness.

"Anything yet?"

Morgan's eyes opened in surprise, which quickly gave way to embarrassment. He'd all but forgotten Blaise was even there, lost in the intensity of his focus. "Ah. Yes. It's helping a great deal. Thank you."

Blaise looked pleased. "Good. You're so quiet, I wasn't sure. I know you don't like touching, I was - what? Don't look so surprised, I'm not completely oblivious, you know."

"No. You're very observant. I appreciate it," he said quietly. It was something he'd never really realized until just now. She paid attention to him. Enough to notice the way he avoided physical contact. And she respected that unspoken boundary without questioning it, even though that meant she had to make a conscious effort to treat him differently. It was... nice, to be accommodated. Of course, it was probably nothing out of the ordinary for Blaise, just a natural extension of the kindness Morgan had identified in her long ago. Still, he let himself enjoy the revelation briefly before turning his attention back to the golem.

It was so tempting to do everything at once. There was a lot to modify, to adjust, to improve, to learn. But now that he'd been pulled out of his reverie of exploration once, it was easier to remember that he was not at his leisure. And Blaise had been so patient, always so patient with him. Because she knew he needed it, because she cared about him. Morgan reluctantly subdued the happiness bubbling in his chest and tried to focus on the task at hand, on what still needed immediate work. For now, the foundations of motion and feedback were in place. He allowed himself a little more fine tuning and decided that he could stand to leave it inert when he needed to use his magic elsewhere. He'd already gotten used to not using the limb, so it wouldn't be too much different.

"All right," he said eventually. "I'm done. For now. Thank you for your help. We can pick up where we left off yesterday, by the fountains." Blaise released his arm and stood in a fluid motion, stretching before she reached out a hand to help him up. Morgan took it, closing his eyes briefly against the wave of dizziness that washed over him as he stood. He blinked to clear the lingering reds and blues from his vision. When they faded, Blaise was making a displeased face.

"Doesn't look like you're ready."

"No, I'm fine," he assured her. The dizzy spell had passed, as they always did. She did not look reassured.

"Don't tell me you did all this on an empty stomach, Morgan. I've barely seen you eat since-"

"I ate before I started." A few hours before, in case the potions disagreed with him. And not very much, because eating was still unpleasant and he'd wanted to be able to focus. But he didn't want to talk about that, so he dug a piece of flatbread out of his bag and took a small bite. It seemed to pacify her.

Morgan chewed slowly, making sure his feet were firmly planted before he raised a golem from the earth outside the building. It was no different than it had ever been. Two skeletons followed. No noticeable problems with capacity, then, and with the arm inactive it felt like he was maybe even recovering his energy very slightly faster than usual. He allowed himself another small, satisfied smile as he stepped out to join the constructs.

"Hey!" Telash jogged towards Blaise and Morgan as they returned from the jungle. "There you are. I need you to show me what you taught Phaedra." Morgan glanced at Blaise, who shrugged. Telash seemed to be talking to him, anyway. "She won't tell me how she does it."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I haven't taught her anything. Our magic isn't the same."

"She's been showing off all day. Look." He brandished a bottle towards them. It was luminous, blue-white and flickering.

"Oh," Morgan said, reaching out. Telash jerked the bottle away.

"Show me. I want to do this with fire. There's got to be a trick to it, I'm just breaking the bottles when I try on my own."

"I... can tell you what I told her the last time we spoke, but I don't think-"

"Give us half an hour to unwind first, you insufferable prick. Some of us have actually been doing work all day." Blaise brushed past him, making him stumble half a step back to avoid a collision. He rallied quickly, springing into step beside her.

"I can help you unwind," he suggested with a leer and a wiggle of his eyebrows.

"I guess that would still leave me with twenty-eight minutes to relax properly," she replied. Telash made a choked sound of indignation.

"I'll have you know my skill as a lover is legendary!"

"That's funny. You don't hear a lot of legends about disappointment."

"You'd be singing a very different tune if you just-"

"Maybe that's your problem. If you're doing it right, your partner shouldn't have the breath to spare for singing."

"Oh, I could leave you breathless."

"With laughter, maybe."

Morgan split off in search of Phaedra. Blaise and Telash could enjoy their banter, or whatever it was they were doing. The words they were exchanging sounded rude, but they seemed to enjoy butting heads. It was just another thing he'd resigned himself to never understanding.

The search didn't take long. Phaedra was leaving Alkor's hut, struggling with a large basket laden with empty bottles of various shapes and sizes. She gave her head a little toss when she noticed Morgan, lifting her chin. "Little help here?"

He raised a golem without a second thought, its arms extended to accept the weight of the basket. Phaedra gave a grunt of effort as she shifted it over, then dusted off her hands. "Thanks. That's heavier than it looks. Has Telash found you yet?"

"Yes."

"He's persistent, you have to give him that. I'll show you what I figured out, but only if you promise not to tell him how to do it."

Morgan hesitated. He was so curious it almost felt like a physical itch, but at the same time he didn't want to antagonize the volatile fire mage. "I already agreed to repeat our earlier conversation," he said cautiously.

"Why did you do that?"

"He... asked." It had been more of a demand, really, but a request was a request.

"Hm. He's an ass, but he isn't stupid. Hell, he might be able to figure it out faster than me. Don't want that." She eyed Morgan appraisingly. The weight of her gaze was uncomfortable.

"Why do you want to keep this to yourself?"

Phaedra flashed a quick smile before turning to walk down toward the fire pit. "I don't, not really. That's why I've got all these bottles. I was planning to see if I can teach the others tonight."

Morgan followed with a confused frown. "Then why are you keeping it from Telash specifically?"

"For fun," came the breezy answer. "It's so easy to rile him up. Set those down on that bench?" The golem lowered the basket obediently. Phaedra watched it, her head slightly tilted. "Movement still eludes me. I tried with some old gauntlets from Hratli but I didn't get so much as a twitch in the fingers."

"Were you able to keep it contained?"

"Yes, eventually. It turned out to be better inside an insulating material. Leather gauntlets, glass bottles. It really wanted to spill out of the gauntlets, that's why I tried the bottles in the first place."

"Telash showed me a bottle. How long does it last, once it's contained?"

"That depends. Little ones, maybe five minutes. Big ones, about half an hour."

"Can you feed it to make it last longer? Do you need to unseal the container first? Could I-" he bit off the last question, remembering that she'd already laid out a condition he couldn't meet. And he was being too eager, rushing through his questions like a child instead of waiting for answers.

"Haven't tried, and don't know. What an interesting idea." Phaedra slipped a hand into the pockets of her robes and produced a glass vial about the size of her fist. It flickered softly. She popped the cork and slid the palm of her hand over the mouth of the bottle in one smooth motion. Half closing her eyes, her eyebrows twitched down in a brief frown of concentration. The light in the bottle grew brighter. Phaedra replaced the cork, holding the bottle up in front of her face with a smile.

"Well, there's one question answered. I think I'll wait on the other one. I want to give it some thought before I try it. I've already broken a lot of bottles. Here, catch."

She lobbed the bottle towards Morgan in a soft underhand throw. He fumbled it badly, nearly dropping it first in surprise and then again because that surprise delayed the response of his golem arm. Phaedra snickered behind her hand as he recovered. He ignored that, holding the bottle up with both hands to peer at its contents.

It was beautiful. Blue-white lightning crackled around the inside of the bottle, branching and converging in an enthralling display. It was almost like a living thing curling over and around itself. His skin tingled where it was touching the glass, and the golem arm thrummed a warning at the unfamiliar magic. Morgan could have examined it for a very long time, but he forced his gaze back over to Phaedra.

"This is amazing," he said earnestly.

"Useful, too," she replied. "It should stay bright even in the rain, and if I can get more power to fit in the same space it could have some real potential as a weapon. I just have to figure out how. Don't suppose you have any insights on that?"

"In some cases I'm limited by what the carrier will bear," Morgan offered, his eyes drawn back to the bottle as he turned it over in his hands. "Some materials take magic better than others."

"Oh, I was focused so hard on getting it to stay somewhere, I didn't even think... hmm, yeah, that's worth trying. I'll be right back." Phaedra picked up a few small bottles from the basket and set off purposefully toward the docks.

Morgan sat down on the bench, bringing his golem over to sit beside him. He touched the bottle to it experimentally. It did not react with a warning like the arm had done. There were plenty of potential reasons for that, though. Possibilities drifted across his mind as he watched the lightning circle around itself inside its glass prison. He slipped into something like a light meditation, the rest of the world falling away as he admired its beauty.

The sound of breaking glass brought Morgan back to full awareness with a start. His golem informed him a second later that it was under attack and had sustained some damage. A bottle had shattered across its broad back, sending sparks crawling over its surface. They lingered at the point of impact where the earth had been dampened.

"Well, that's promising," Phaedra said. Morgan turned to see her hefting another bottle. "Water's heavy, but it definitely holds more. I like where this is going. You can keep that, and don't worry about Telash. He'll figure out how to get what he wants one way or another."

Morgan wasn't sure what to make of that comment at all, so he thanked Phaedra and took his golem to the hut he'd been staying in. He watched the bottled lightning a little more. When it started to fade, he held it up to the golem and suggested it take. It accepted the bottle gently into its mass. There was a muffled crunch, followed by another warning that the golem had been damaged. That was slightly disappointing, but not wholly unexpected. It had just been an idea. It would have opened up enormous opportunities, but asking a construct to incorporate two different types of magic without the stabilizing element of an enchantment was obviously too much. Morgan set the golem down into the earth and relaxed into meditation, turning his attention back to his left arm instead.

[ill-be-istj-if-no-one-else-is]

How can I know for sure if what I'm seeing in myself is dominant Te vs dominant Se+Ti? In theory I know the difference between the two well, and can type other people accurately, but I'm at loss when analyzing myself. I can find arguments for both, doesn't help that my tritype is common for both types (837) and that feedback I got from people is mixed: my mom thinks I'm ESTP, my classmates and a couple new people I interacted with on a chat say Te dom is obvious. I know external feedback is 1/4

not basis for self typing, but I was getting nowhere on my own. I don't live for only the here and now unaware or uncaring of consequences, but I also don't see myself ignoring or devaluing the present for an imagined future, so it's hard to place where my Ni lies. I trust my intuitions a lot, but distrust other people's in general. I noticed I tend to get annoyed with INFJs because they're prone to overcomplicating/convoluting things and too much abstraction so their thinking process sounds 2/4

torturous, but INTJs I get very well. So I don't think I'm opposed to Ni itself. I feel stuck because I lack the consistency and discipline of an NJ, but also the YOLO attitude of an SP. I'm also not sure about Ti/Fe vs Te/Fi: I'm generally emotionally detached, but my opinions tend to be quite black&white. I expect and can apply/reinforce structure/rules to get things working/done successfully, but also can feel suffocated/overwhelmed by it if it's too much. I have strong individual values 3/4

but unless it's something that weights on my conscience, I can easily adapt to new cultures/environments when necessary/beneficial to me ("When in Rome..."). I'm quite an independent thinker, but will work within the system to succeed in it even if I don't agree with it, as long as it doesn't involve something like abuse/slavery/cons etc. I have considered other types, but my no-nonsense, objective, blunt and direct to the point way makes me think I must either ENTJ or ESTP. 4/4

-------

Honestly, from this...I can't type you and also I'm not sure if you're asking me to help you type yourself or if you're trying to distinguish between Se+Ti and Te, which, frankly, I don't find hard to distinguish if I have any length of time with the person, so I don't know what to tell you in that regard. This is so heavily focused on the names of functions and comparing yourself to other types and using the language that gets used over and over in function descriptions, instead of just describing yourself, that I can't actually get a sense of your personality. I think I've said this before but it bears repeating: I don't know you (the you of anyone coming into my inbox) and so if you give me a list of "I do these things that point to one type and I do these things that point to another type" I'm like "fuck dude you sure do." If you show me a balanced scale with which I can't interact, I can't tell you which side is heavier.

If you are looking at Se+Ti or Te, I would recommend three things:

First, read through the Te + Ti post I recently made, or other people's Ti/Te comparison posts, and focus specifically on which thinking function you use without going into the sensing function.

Second, a lot of this seemed overly focused on fitting all holistic descriptions all the time. No one is actually like this. Everyone who said "I am an INTJ and I have a 20 year plan I intend to stick to rigidly and don't do anything without extensive planning first" is a 15-year-old liar with no self-awareness, because of course the occasional spontaneous and unpredictable event occurs; similarly most Se users do in fact make some form of plans otherwise they would all be dead, evicted, or have died of exposure on a camping trip they decided to go on three seconds in advance. You will never fit a function description completely because the functions are abstracted concepts and people are people. Focusing on "most of the time" instead of "I must fit this archetype" may help.

And thirdly, whenever someone is like "I've tried everything, I'm great at typing everyone else but not myself" and gives me a post that's just wall-to-wall MBTI jargon (and this happens with some frequency) I usually tell them to take an extended break. MBTI will still be there, and trying to exist and interact with the world without constantly asking yourself "but if I buy this pack of gum would that mean I'm not an ENTJ?" often ironically makes you more able to assess your personality when you get back.

[growup-gloup]

Quarantine Survival Guide

With more and more places shutting down work or school, and people going on self-imposed quarantines to be safe and keep those around them safe, it’s high time that we figure out a game plan about what to do about the virus. 

Disclaimer

I am not a doctor, nor am I pretending to be such. This is generalized information. Please do your own research, or contact your general physician if you have health related questions or concerns. 

What is Coronavirus?

COVID-19 is a strain of the coronavirus, which has been around for longer than you think, though we generally have antiviruses, cures, or immunities to the majority of the strains. It originates from animals and is now transferable from human to human. The reason why COVID-19 is different from any other virus is because it’s so new, there are no vaccines for it, and our bodies haven’t naturally developed antibodies for the virus either, which means that nearly everyone who comes into contact with it will get it, though the extent of symptoms and how much it affects you depends on factors such as your overall health and immune system.

The symptoms include a cough and struggling to breathe, along with a fever and related aches. If you are more prone to illnesses because of your age or immune system, then you can possibly get pneumonia or serious illnesses.

You’re at risk if you’re a child or senior, or if you have an autoimmune disorder of some sort. If you are already more susceptible to pneumonia, then this is a dangerous virus for you, but otherwise, all you will feel is a few days of flu-like symptoms before you’re better. Even if you show very few symptoms, the virus can stay in your system for over two weeks, which is why the quarantine is necessary, so that the virus has time to die off.

You can prevent catching it, or passing it onto those around you by frequently washing your hands, avoiding touching your face, and if you’re feeling under the weather, then keeping physical distance from those around you. 

You can find daily updates at WHO, and resources at Harvard Health Publishing. 

How do I work/study from home?

One thing that’s great about going to school or work away from home is that it encourages you to build a routine and discipline, which is something that falls apart if you spend too much time at home. You can replicate that by pretending that you are still going out by following these steps:

Follow the same time schedule. If you wake up at 7, keep waking up at 7. The time you would use for transportation, use it for some form of exercise. Get ready at the same time. Eat breakfast and lunch at the same time. If you normally have this particular class at this particular hour on this particular day, that is the subject you’ll continue to be working on during that time. 

Get ready for work. When people think of homeschooling or working from home, one of the ideas that seems appealing is not having to get dressed up. Wouldn’t it be great if we could do all our work in our pajamas? The problem with that is that it decreases your productivity, since your mind associates certain clothes and behaviors with shutting down for the day, like wearing pajamas or sitting on the couch. But if you get dressed as if you’re about to leave for school or work, then your mind is accepting that you are done resting for the day and it’s grind time. 

Have a space just for work. Adding to the previous point, if you have a specific space where you just do your school or office work while you’re at home, which shouldn’t be in your bedroom, then your mind will assume that place as your workplace. But if you work on the couch or bed, which are places you normally relax, then you’re more prone to getting tired or distracted. 

Minimize distractions. You’ve gotten ready for the day. You even got your work space ready and your cute highlighters ready to go. But now you’re hungry. Or thirsty. Or you need to check your phone. Bring some healthy snacks to the table, which should cause minimal mess or effort to eat. Pre-cut fruits with a fork is a great option. So are oven-baked tortilla chips with salsa dip, as long as you keep that a bit away from your work. You can also try apps like Forest, or Tide, to help you stay off your phone for a certain set of time. If you must listen to music, then stick to classical music. I’m partial to Chopin and Mozart, but it’s up to you, as long as it’s classical.

Try the Pomodoro technique. Working for hours at a time is very unproductive, contrary to what one might think, partially because your attention span lasts less than half an hour before you need a break. You can try to break your work into chunks by setting up a timer for 25 minutes, taking a break for 5 minutes, and then working for 25 minutes again. You can use the apps mentioned in the last point. Tide even has a chrome pomodoro extension with white noise that you could use.

Use online resources. Just because you can’t ask your teacher a question in person doesn’t mean you’re helpless. Tons of resources, such as Khan Academy, or Crash Course, can help you understand the concepts more. They may even help you get ahead in courses that you have a good understanding of already. 

What to do with all this extra time?

While imposing a quarantine slows the spread of the virus, we’re faced with an entirely different situation. We’re so used to rushing to work/school, then rushing back, and constantly busy and interacting, then when we don’t know what to do now that we are alone. When you’re not working or studying, you can do the following:

Catch up on chores and errands that have been piling up around the house. Do that thing you kept postponing because of your job or school.

Pick up a new skill. It can be anything you’ve wanted to be able to do, but didn’t get a chance, from sewing, or playing an instrument, to speaking a new language. You could even learn some basic plumbing and tools skills and install a bidet so you don’t have to deal with the toilet paper crisis again.

Read a new book. If you don’t have any books at home, you can check out options such as the Open Library, or even Wattpad.

Start a new show that has a lot of seasons, or long episodes, such as Supernatural, Gossip Girl, or even Critical Role.  

Practice your cooking skills with all the items you hoarded. 

Rearrange the furniture in your house/room to make it feel like a new space.

Keep moving. Find a workout routine that works from home, or do something like yoga or dancing. If you’re not going out, you’re not being as active, which is not good. 

Keep in touch with friends. Text and call them frequently. You could even have a remote Netflix session with your friends, or significant other, using the Netflix Party extension. 

Learn to play poker, unless you have an addictive personality. Then you can learn cool shuffling tricks to impress friends at all the parties you’ll go to once the quarantine lockdown is lifted. 

Draw and write. You don’t have to be an author or researcher or an artist. Just draw things you see around you. Write about how you’re feeling. It can help with the isolation.

What can I do as a parent of kids staying home from school?

If your job hasn’t imposed a quarantine yet, try to see if it is possible for you to work from home. 

If you can’t be home, see if you have one parent, if there’s more than one, or extended family or friends, who do not have babies or elderly, or members with compromised immune systems, and see if it’s possible to do a lockdown together if none of you have caught it yet. 

Devise a family plan so that everyone is on the same page. Use the above-mentioned tips and adapt them to fit your family’s needs. You can also find other things you can do that haven’t been mentioned here. 

If you are working at home, or are a stay-at-home parent, have designated work hours that reflect the schedule you regularly have. You can say that for these two hours, everyone does their work. The kids do their school work. The adults do their work. And then you can have a break to talk, play, or eat. 

You can look into homeschooling blogs and see how homeschooling parents set up their schedules, and if they have tips or online resources that may help. They have been doing this for longer and know ways to manage routines of multiple members of the family who stay at home, or even work while their children are homeschooled. 

💋

[lightinalexandria]

Love, Men, Women, and LGBTQ+ Life in Egypt

August 13, 2021 اغسطس ١٣

A good friend posed the question to me this week of asking “Where are you local?” Instead of “Where are you from?” I might even tweak that slightly to “Where do you feel at home?” For most of us, and in fact for most other places I’ve lived, the equation is a simple line graph. More time, more familiarity, more comfort, more feeling like home. I’m challenged here, at the end of my second summer in Egypt, with a different calculus.

The more I speak with my friends and teachers in their “heart language” of Arabic, the more I see how deep the generosity, sociability, and collective spirit run. Not all my friends are Muslim, but I see these traits represented in the 5 Pillars of Islam beautifully, and I’ve been told so in many different ways.

That’s the part that feels more like home. But of course, if it was all sunshine this would be a different story. This is not a happy post. I don’t have any female friends here who are truly, uncomplicatedly happy. I don’t have any queer friends here who are truly, uncomplicatedly happy.

Of course that doesn’t mean there are no happy females in Egypt; my internationally minded, English speaking group isn’t representative, I know, and I’ve had many conversations with more conservative teachers and friends about the contentment that can come from living inside a more rigid structure.

But…I don’t know everyone in Egypt. I just know my friends. And many of them are desperately, painfully unhappy, stressed, in ways that I understand more fully the longer I’m here. I think “right and wrong” or “good and bad” are wildly unhelpful terms, so when I’m trying to understand how I feel about these societal norms and systems, the right to happiness of my friends is my bellwether. Systems that make more people happier without hurting others are ones I want to support, period, which also means my anecdotal circle can’t be my only data points. I’m a little nervous where those conclusions might lead me, dancing around big questions of class and culture and religion, but more nervous not to draw a line in the sand with the best metric I know and explore from there.

Apparently sexual harassment has decreased a bit since the government put some teeth into a new anti-harassment law a couple years ago and they made an example of a few offenders. That’s nice. The street -especially at night- still does NOT feel like a safe or friendly place, and I just get tiny glimpses of that walking near female friends. Life is lived in the streets here, the pedestrian density like Times Square, always, so the sheer volume of people quickly makes crowd thoughts and judgement evident. Sitting with a female friend at anything but a super upscale cafe, I see the glances and catch bits of the conversation as they pass judgement on her for hanging out with me. What a wild thought, that any conversation I have with an Egyptian women starts with the brave act of her choosing to engage at all, know the subtle pressures that will start in from all sides. One of my friends who wears a hijab told me that when she went to Cairo, she brought extra wide clothes to walk the streets with, and it didn’t matter. She got just as many comments as when she was back in tights clothes.

Who gets the blame? Young men have so few opportunities to interact with young women outside immediate circles, period, but are still somehow supposed to meet a potential bride and move her into the new house that he’ll buy with cash savings from the extended family? Old black and white Egyptian movies show women in skirts and t-shirts, and Egyptian music videos show Western dressed Egyptian women gyrating, but aside from a few pockets of wealth and international society in Alexandria, those images of women don’t exist in the real world here. Men are allowed and encouraged to date casually, but women are called sluts for kissing someone who may not be an eventual husband. Women are supposed to protect their virginity, while men want to fool around with lots of women but settle down with a virgin bride. The math doesn’t work. My heart goes out to the working class men in an impossible, frustrating position, society and politics conspiring against biology, but while they have to worry about their reputation, women here worry about reputation AND safety, always.

And LGBTQ+? First of all, it’s just so difficult to have intimate relations here -every lives with family, you can’t be intimate until you’re married, you can’t be married until you own a house, you can be arrested in public spaces for PDA, and no one will rent rooms to an unmarried couple-. That means there is a SIGNIFICANT percentage of the men here who sleep with other men, feel shame, would never consider themselves gay, and would only consent to being a “top.” Honestly, it reminds me of what I know of the sexual politics in prison culture, except no one’s in a physical prison here.

Sexual health is also a huge challenge; access to STI testing apart from HIV is impossible for unmarried women and hugely expensive for men. Someone in my circle here had complications from a “Plan B” pill and wasn’t able to go to a gynecologist as an unmarried woman. Someone else was hospitalized for an unrelated illness, and jubilant that as part of the hospital stay, insurance would cover the full battery of STI screening before surgery, the first time in a very active sexual life they’d ever had that. Someone else just lost a friend to HIV; they told the family it was cancer, but were too ashamed to seek the HIV treatment pills, and died in a few months.

Mental health has its own obstacles. Someone I know was told by a licensed therapist they were going to hell if they kept sleeping with men, unmarried. I heard that from women and queer friends as well. How do you establish a relationship of trust in the first place if licensed practitioners in the country are able to say things like that in the privacy of their sessions without consequences?

So, full circle to the beginning of the post. “Where do you feel local?” or “Where do you feel at home?”

I feel infinitely more familiar and comfortable here than my first few weeks, no denying that. 95% of the time I can make myself understood in daily life (very different than understanding 95% of what’s being said to ME in daily life, but progress). I can call businesses here to ask questions. I can tell meandering stories. I can cross the comically busy and chaotic streets without an adrenaline spike. I run into friends on the street most days, and my last 100 meters from my neighborhood entrance to apartment involves a dozen different greetings and little conversations. I have my favorite….everything; food carts, Syrian sweets, juice shops, rotisseries, beaches, bars, cafes, and a good rapport with the folks working there. I have a lot of lovely but more surface level relationships, and a few real and intimate friendships. All that DOES feel local, does feel like home.

If feeling local or at home here means giving any kind of tacit acceptance to the norms that make my friends so unhappy, though, I don’t want to claim the label. I also don’t feel like I have any right or power as an outsider to do much more than listen, affirm, connect to resources when I can. I left China after staying in Xinjiang province and seeing the government’s cultural genocide of Uighur society, and I haven’t been back since. (You can read my writings at the time with the link here) What’s my path here in Egypt? Love the player, hate the game? Can I come back next summer and complete my 6 months of study plan, knowing I float through a golden bubble of American male protection I can’t extend to my friends here? I really don’t know yet. No wise or pithy ending sentence here. Just a lot of hurt, a mixed bag of emotions, and a whole lot of people who deserve uncomplicated love and happiness.

[steamy-linguine]

You’re with who?! (DBH Characters x Reader Imagines)

A/N: *waves* hey y’all. It’s me. Ya boi. Well put together all of these into one big post so sorry? Goes Connor, Hank, and then Gavin. I hope you enjoy it cause I’m tired from writing it lmao. As always thank you for reading and I hope you dirty donuts enjoy :* P.S. that was a kiss lol. (gifs below aren’t mine)

Warnings: Mature content. Cursing. Sexual themes.

CONNOR:

You stood on the porch of Hank’s home, your eyes still cautiously looking around expecting Hank to pop out from the bushes saying ‘Aha! Caught your ass!’ but you had to shake it off. You knew on friday nights, well any night, Hank was at the bar so he wouldn’t be back for awhile.

Your hand reached out, finger aimed and ready to hit the doorbell but before you could even press the button, the door swung open.

“(Y/N)!” Connor greeted you.

“Connor.” You smiled at him, looking him up and down. He wasn’t wearing his usual attire. His jacket with his button up shirt and tie now gone and he wore just a simple white t-shirt and gray sweats to match. It had been awhile since the two of you had some alone time with the both of you sneaking around your mutual friend to keep your relationship as private as possible.

Oh lord don’t jump him like last time (Y/N), You thought to yourself.

He noticed your staring and looked down at himself, “Oh, I had saw somewhere that usually for movie date nights, people wear comfortable clothing. Which film did you bring?”

“I-I brought Halloween.” You told him as your arm extended out handing him the plastic DVD case.

His led flickered from blue to yellow as he stared at the case.

He nodded, “A horror movie based upon a masked murderer.”

“Yeah you love those.”

He nodded, a big goofy grin on his face as he stepped aside to let you inside. Once in, he removed your jacket from your shoulders and you stuttered out a small ‘thank you’ to him.

You both made your way over to the small living room with you plopping down onto the couch first and he made his way to the DVD player.

You noticed how there was already snacks on the table for you. The giant bowl of fresh popcorn, the candy, and of course your favorite drink and you smiled.

He was so damn sweet.

“Are you ready to watch the movie?” He asked, making his way over to your side.

You nodded, “Yes!”

Boy, were you ‘ready’ to watch the movie.

As soon as the android had hit the play button and the title screen appeared, you jumped him. You had leaned into him and crashed your lips onto his and of course he wasn’t going to just turn you away. You made his system go completely mad whenever you were around.

The movie still playing in the background as you were now straddling his lap, your shirt gone but your bra still hugging your chest and his hands were already working on the button of your jeans, his lips moving from yours to your neck now.

“Oh Connor...” You moaned his name.

Suddenly, the front door opened and you quickly threw yourself off of him and the both of your eyes went straight to the older man standing before the both of you.

Hank’s mouth was wide open as he stared at you both.

“What the fuck.” Were the only words that were able to leave Hank’s mouth.

“Ah shit...” You cursed under your breath and you looked down at yourself just remembering how close to naked you were in front of him.

Connor grabbed your shirt from the floor and handing it to you and you took it slowly. Your cheeks were flushed with pink as your android boyfriends a light blue and Hank was still scratching his head.

“Hank...” You and Connor said in unison.

TELL HANK THE TRUTH?

The suggestion came into Connor’s view but before he could even open his mouth to speak, Hank’s voice filled the empty awkward air.

“You guys are together?” Hank asked.

“No-“ You began but Connor cut you off completely.

“Yes!”

LIE TO HANK?

Connor stared at you and then you both looked back to Hank.

“No-“ Connor began but you cut him off this time.

“Yes.”

Hank rubbed his temples while letting out a long sigh, “I’m too drunk for this shit.”

He left you both to sit on the couch and watch him disappear down the hallway followed by the door closing.

——————————

HANK:

Hank had been watching you all day. You were such a tease always bending over in your tight black pencil skirt and it was driving him up the damn wall.

You both had been sneaking around with each other for about a month. Hank being the one to wait to tell anybody because of the age difference and it didn’t seem to bother you at all.

Besides, you and Hank found it kind of hot to be so sneaky.

It was now late in the precinct and you sat at your desk with your hair now out of the ponytail you had earlier, letting your hair fall messily around your face but it added to your outfit.

Hank was trying to finish the last of the reports but god you were such a distraction like this. Completely enveloped in your work with the frustrated stare, it was sexy to him.

“You keep staring at me and you won’t get anything done.” You told him without even making eye contact.

He smirked, “Well look at you. You’re gonna give me a heart attack looking like that.”

You averted your eyes over to him and now you wore a smirk on your face.

“Come find out what’s under and I’m sure it’ll stop your heart.” You replied while adding a wink at the end of your sentence.

Hank was completely blown back by your comment. He looked around to make sure that you both were alone, which to his luck you guys were and he made his way over to your desk and you got up to stand in front of him.

His hands found your waist and his face inched closer to yours, “You wanna do this here?”

You shrugged, “I’ve always wanted to do it on a desk.”

Without saying another word, his hands gripped your sides as he lifted you up onto your desk. Your legs wrapped around his side as your hands pulled onto his floral shirt collar, the both of you desperate to start a hot make-out session.

“Lieutenant. Detective.” Connor’s voice interrupted making Hank move away from you and you hopped off your desk.

“Connor!” Hank said surprised, the red beginning to build up on his face from embarrassment.

Connor looked between the two of you with an emotionless expression.

Hank opened his mouth again, “Connor, we were just uh-“

“Don’t worry Lieutenant. I already knew of you and (y/n)’s secret affair.” Connor said.

Your eyebrow quirked up at this, “You do?”

Connor nodded, “Yes I heard the two of you from Hank’s living room once engaging in sexual-“

You let out a loud nervous laughter, “Uh Connor.”

“Yes Detective?”

“Don’t tell anyone about this.”

—————————

GAVIN:

“Fuck you Reed.” You spat at him as you stormed off to move away from him and the lingering gaze of everyone watching the both of you.

“Good fucking riddance.” He added, making you turn head to him one last time to give him your middle finger and then disappeared to the elevators.

“Yeesh. What did you do now?” Hank asked him.

Gavin turned to look at him, “What does it matter?”

The Lieutenant shrugged, “I’ve just never seen (Y/N) so pissed off before.”

“Yeah well (y/n) will be fine.” Gavin replied.

Nines watched the interaction between you two and even continued to listen into the conversation between his partner and the Lieutenant and only had one word for the entire interaction: Bullshit.

Of course he wouldn’t say it so easily like that but something told him (his diagnostics of course) that the two of you were up to something.

He had his suspicions whenever he would find Gavin’s gaze on you to linger whenever you weren’t looking and vice versa.

Or the way Gavin’s body language would completely change around you and Nines could tell he’d try to mask the sudden change with his jerk persona but he couldn’t fool the android (of course).

“I’ll be back Nines. I-I’ve gotta go handle something.” Gavin stammered out to Nines who obviously wasn’t having it.

“You’re going to avoid your work again Detective?” The annoyance clear in Nine’s voice.

“It can wait Nines!” Gavin replied back obviously just as annoyed as he grabbed his keys from his desk and hurried off into the same direction you disappeared to.

DETECTIVE REED IS LYING?

Nines narrowed his eyes at the incoming suggestion in his view.

It was always so odd that whenever you would leave, Gavin sure enough would follow behind and the same way around.

“Is there something wrong Nines?” Connor asked him.

Why were you two so weird acting? The long gazes, the arguing, the disappearing-Oh.

Nines knew exactly what was going on.

DETECTIVE REED AND DETECTIVE (Y/N) ARE TOGETHER?

“Nines?” Connor asked him again.

“Everything is fine. I will be right back.” Nines finally replied to his android doppelgänger while getting up to follow the same direction you both went.

***

“You think...they...believed it?” You asked Gavin in between kisses.

He did hear you and wanted to reply but his only thoughts were to hurry up and get you out of your clothes so he could fuck you in the back seat on his car.

“Gavin we can’t-Oh!” Your sentence was cut off by his hands suddenly up your shirt and you moaned at the contact of his hands groping your breasts.

“God dammit Reed...” You cursed.

He moved his mouth from yours and began a trail from your chin to your neck before he stopped. You could feel his hot breath against your skin and it sent shivers throughout you.

“Stop acting like you don’t want this (Y/N).” Gavin said.

You moaned again trying to think of something to say but it was hard to when you had Gavin all over you like this.

Your hands found its way to his hair, lightly tugging on it making him bring his lips onto your neck to leave a fresh hickey.

“Gavin, please just fuck-“

The tapping on his car window stopped your sentence and Gavin, his hands still being in your shirt, jolted away from you making you follow in the same direction as him.

“Gavin. Your hands.” You said as you both readjusted yourself, him moving his hands and Nines watched through the window, an eye roll oncoming from him.

Nine’s pointed at Gavin and motioned his finger to point downward.

“Gavin I think he wants you to roll the window...” Your said in a hushed tone.

Gavin groaned as he reached over and began lowering it, “God damn it tin can! What do you want?!”

Nines huffed, “If you two are finished I would like to continue our work.”

Gavin rolled his eyes again, “God Nines couldn’t you have just fucking waited?!”

“Fine Detective. I’ll give you about five more minutes. I estimated that should be the appropriate time you need, yes?” Nines had a smirk on his face, clearly amused and you covered your mouth trying to stifle the giggle.

“I’m gonna fucking dissemble you myself.” Gavin fired at him.

[behappyitsemmalie]

Build A Wall Around You - Pogues!Found Family

Requested: YES! ‘I wanted to see hurt Kie/ protective and caring pogues’

Warnings: several mentions of blood!, some cuss words, run-on sentences and excessive use of commas. 

The boneyard party is going perfectly fine, until Kie gets hurt. The Pogues being the protective (and slightly scatter-brained) beans they are towards their favorite girl. 

All of the Pogues were already a few drinks in by the time the clock hit 11PM. It was the first party of the summer at the boneyard. Tourons had just started piling into the Outer Banks a couple days before and yesterday was the last day of the school year. So, yeah, everyone was excited to get a little drunk. Even Pope, who never drank as much as his friends, was tossing back more beers than he was used to. They had already decided that they would be spending the night passed out somewhere at John B’s house. So they figured they might as well start summer with a bang. 

The beach was packed. Tourists and Outer Banks residents all mixed together in the sand, converged around the kegs and dancing by the cool water’s edge. Kie and JJ were next to each on one end of the beer table. Since they were 14, their first real party, they were unofficial beer pong partners. Kie tossed her ball, landing straight into a cup. JJ cheered and reached out his hand for a high-five, always impressed that Kiara was so good at the game. John B was manning one of the kegs, his usual spot. He always said it was a good way to meet people, particularly girls. The others would laugh noticing how most girls would end up coming back to the keg not for more beer, but just to talk to John B more. Pope was back by the treelike, leaning against an old palm with some girl none of them had seen before. Pope was saying wildly inappropriate, and slightly disturbing, medical things but for some reason the brunette girl in front of him didn't seem to mind. 

It was a good night. The perfect night even. 

Until Rafe Cameron walked into the party. 

There was a bottle of vodka in his hand, half finished, and his usual parade of equally annoying kook friends behind him. At this point all the pogues were by the keg, listening to Pope muse on about the brunette tourist he had got along with. Apparently, she had to get back to her family’s vacation house, but Pope was supposed to take her to get ice cream the next day. 

“See I knew my boy had game!” JJ congratulated, slapping Pope on the shoulder, but laughing slightly under his breath about Pope’s high pitched voice as the alcohol sat in his system. 

Just as the gang giggled, Rafe strolled up to the keg. “Hey Pogue trash,” he smirked. 

“Cameron isn't there some country club party that you’re missing?” JJ retorted, polishing off his beer and handing the empty cup to Pope. 

“Wouldn't you know if there was Maybank? You’d be working at it.” 

JJ tried to jump forward, the several drinks in his system gearing him up for a fight. Kie’s hand landed on his bicep just in time to pull him back. She could feel the strain on his arm as he tightened his fists at his sides. Rafe noticed the interaction between the two of them, ignoring the words from John B telling him to get out of here. 

“You look good, Kie. Too good to be playing babysitter,” he grinned. 

“Fuck you,” she grinned back. She was never very good at comebacks when she was drinking, so she figured she could just get straight to the point. And to be honest, she was in the opposite of the mood to be hit on by Rafe Cameron tonight. 

“Just get out of here Rafe,” John B growled, his anger starting to grow as well now. 

Rafe stepped forward closer to the Pogues. His face closed in on John B’s, his breath hot on the other boy’s face. “Why don't you make me Routledge?” 

It all happened so fast that no one could even tell you what happened, even though they were standing right there. John B shoved Rafe away from him, but that first touch was all Rafe needed. It was like a switch went off. He was no longer just the smug, arrogant kook. Now he was violent, his fists swinging wildly at John B. Kie was no longer able to hold JJ back and he ran into the fight. Kie and Pope were left yelling from the side lines, begging for JJ to stop before things went way too far. 

She has no idea what possessed her to do it. Maybe it was the alcohol that made her feel brave, or stupid. But Kie ran, ignoring Pope’s request for her to stay out of it. She ran and jumped into the middle of the fight, standing in between JJ and Rafe with her arms extended out. 

“Guys stop before-” 

Suddenly her words were cut off. A slamming pain ignited in her face, radiating from her nose. She stumbled back, frozen. She stood completely still, albeit hunched over with her hands cupping her nose. Everyone around was suddenly silent, no longer cheering on the fight like drunk idiots do. Things were still, everyone seeming to be in shock as they stared at the scene. Even Rafe seemed terrified, very aware that he just punched Kiara in the face. His eyes were wide and trained on Kie. 

John B was the first to be released from his frozen hold. He ran over to Kie and placed a light hand on her back. 

“Kie are you ok?” His voice was shaky, clearly afraid that his best friend was seriously hurt. 

Kie was afraid to move her hands away from her face and see the damage. There was a throbbing in her nose and she would be lying if she said she couldn't feel the warm liquid flow out her nostrils. She felt a hand be placed on her back and looked up to see John B hovering over her. His lips moved but with shock still filling her up, she didn't hear whatever it was he was saying. Chaos ensued behind her as JJ flew at Rafe, fists aimed toward his face. Pope replaced John B as the one by Kie’s side as John B jumped in to help JJ. Kie could hear the commotion but didn't look up at it. Instead she focused her attention on her nose, pulling her hands away slowly. Just as she feared, blood gushed out and fell to the sand below her. She let out a stark groan, suddenly feeling a harsh pain knowing she released her tight hold on her nose too quickly. Pope cussed beside her, yelling for someone to bring a towel. 

“JJ! We have to go!” John B’s voice echoed into the night air. 

The whole thing was a fucking mess. JJ was eventually pulled off of Rafe and helped the boys guide injured and bleeding Kie up the beach and to the Chateau. No one on the beach had a towel, or at least not one they minded getting Kie’s blood on, like Pope had requested. Instead, she handed thin white party napkins. She was pretty silent on the walk home. The only words out of her mouth being a constant ‘no’ whenever someone asked if she wanted to go somewhere other than the Chateau, like home or the hospital. The boys, however, were talking constantly. Their words were layered over each other, a constant stream of questions from all three of them. 

‘Are you ok?’ 

‘Does it hurt?’ 

‘Is it still bleeding?’

‘Rafe is dead I swear!’ 

Kie was tuning most of it out. It’s not like they were giving her much time to answer any of their questions anyway. She was busy focusing on the blood running out of her painful nose. She was running through napkin after napkin, getting a little sick at how fast each white sheet quickly turned a dark shade of crimson. 

Soon they walked into the front door of the Chateau and the boys maneuvered Kie to sit on the pullout bed in the middle of the living room. Kie had several bloody napkins in her hands, now sitting in a pile on her lap. She had refused to throw them on the ground, like JJ suggested, as they soiled during their walk. There were blood stains on her shirt and she desperately wanted to change. 

“Can someone get me an ice pack?” she moaned. 

The boys seemed not to hear her, slightly scatter-brained and unsure of what to do. JJ noticed Kie was on her last clean napkin, holding to her nose that for some reason was still bleeding. His eyes scanned the room and landed on a tissue box sitting on the tiny table in the corner. Running over, he grabbed a few tissues from the box and handed them to Kie. 

“Here,” he said, grabbing her chin to lightly tilt your head back. “Keep your head back. It’ll stop the bleeding.” 

“Actually she has to keep her head forward,” Pope intervened. Kie did as she was told, but then JJ’s voice filled the air again. 

“That’s stupid! She has to keep it back!” 

“No!” Pope argued. “If she keeps it back, the blood could clot in her brain.” 

“I have never heard of that!” JJ fought, his voice shaky. 

“It’s medically accurate!” 

Kie couldn't help but laugh. Of course they were bickering right now. They both seemed so erratic, confused about how to help. It was like none of them had been injured before. John B was in front of her, pacing across the small living room. 

“Can someone please get me an ice pack!” Kie asked again. The two boys next to her seemed to hear her this time. They stopped their bickering and looked ready to get her whatever she needed. 

John B was already on his way to the kitchen, eager for something helpful to do. There were no ice packs in the freezer, which seemed odd considering how many times in the past one of the boys needed to ice a bruise from a fight. And of course there were no frozen bags of vegetables so John B did the best he could. He ripped some paper towels off the role and filled them with ice cubes from the tray. He quickly wrapped that up and put the pack into a dish towel (that he hoped was clean) and brought it to Kie. At this point, despite the boys’ arguing, her nose had stopped bleeding. There was significant bruising that she hoped the ice would help and the pain, although dulled from the fuming pain it was in earlier, was still pretty pulsing. It was as if her nose had a heartbeat. She knew she would have to take a Advil or two before bed or there was no chance she was sleeping with how she felt. 

She pressed the cold makeshift ice pack to her nose and winced at the different kind of pain. She pulled it away for a second then tried to settle into the ice making contact with her skin. 

Pope sat on one side of her, his eyes not leaving her as she iced. He was trying to analyze the purple coloring stretching out over her whole nose. It wasn't doing him much good with his brain moving 40 miles a second. He wasn't used to this. If it was JJ or John B, then sure they would know what to do. Those two always got hurt and it’s not that it wasn't a big deal, it just happened all the time. Since they were kids, those two were the ones that showed up everywhere with bruises and broken bones. They would put some ice on it or a band-aid or sleep off the pain and then would back out on the waves. Or if it was JJ, starting another fight with another kook. But now it was Kie. To put it nicely, Kie didn't know how to fight. So she usually stayed back and let one of the other boys handle it. 

He wasn't sure how to help her. He wasn't sure what she needed. And every piece of medical information he had ever read suddenly seemed useless as he sat here next to his friend. 

On the other side of Kie, JJ was simmering with rage. He was sure Kie could feel the heat radiating off of his skin. That’s probably why she had her hand gripping lightly at his wrist. Normally he wouldn't want to be touched when he felt this much anger but that small grip she had was the only thing holding him back. Without that, he was sure he had enough fire in his system to get him all the way across the island to Figure Eight and beat Rafe to a pulp. He watched as Kie held the ice to her nose, wincing every time she accidentally applied too much pressure. 

He could kill Rafe. He would kill Rafe. 

John B was standing silent in front of Kie. He was surprised he still felt so frozen. But at the same time, the second Kie said a word or made any kind of movement besides adjusting the ice on her nose, he would suddenly feel frantic. Like he wasn't doing enough or saying enough. Nothing helpful came to his brain and he just had energy he had no idea what to do with. 

Kie looked up, suddenly very aware of how close everyone was to her. Pope and JJ were on either side of her, their arms or legs pressing against her. In front of her, John B was so close she felt like she couldn't get up if she wanted to. It didn't annoy her, the boys being so close. It was sweet. The only time she remembers them being like this was when they were 9 and she fell off her bike. She was crying, both of her knees skinned and bleeding. The boys were crowded around her like they were now. Pope freaking out and stuttering about band-aids and anti-septic ointment and disinfectant. John B was near to crying himself, frantically pacing because even as a kid he was so scatter-brained when he was anxious. JJ was ready to pick a fight, even though there was no one to pick a fight with except Kie’s bike and the pothole she had rode over. Kie smiled at the memory. 

Right now was the same. The boys were piled around, way closer than they needed to be as if building some wall so nothing else could dare hurt her. It felt warm and safe being inside that wall. It felt like that when she was 9 and she flew off her bike; and it felt that way now when she was 16 and was sitting here with a bloody nose after getting in the middle of some drunken fight she probably had no business being in the middle of. 

But she was also very aware it would probably still feel like that if the boys could all take about two steps back. 

She pulled the ice pack from her nose when the pain started to feel more like an ice burn than anything else. She set it on the bed behind her and started gathering all of the bloody napkins and tissues in her lap. After barely a move to get up, the boys all reached for her. Their voices seemed to merge into one concerned voice as they all asked at once where she was going. 

“I’m just throwing these away,” she answered, trying to keep the mood light with a smile. 

“You could have asked me,” John B replied. 

He tried to reach into Kie’s hands and grab the blood soaked tissues from her, but Kie jerked her hand away. She was very capable of throwing away tissues, even though she knew John B was desperate for a way to help. Him touching tissues covered in her blood were not the way to help. It only took her a second to walk to the trash can in the kitchen and back to the living room, reclaiming her spot on the pullout bed. 

“Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital?” Pope asked once Kie was settled. 

JJ suddenly reached over and lightly cupped Kie’s cheek. He tilted her head towards him and started gazing at the bruising on her nose. The colors were deep and starting to swell on the bridge. His fingers touched it lightly enough that Kie didn't feel the need to wince, but she was wondering if that was just a numbing side effect of the ice. 

“Yes I'm sure,” she promised, finally answering Pope’s question. “They’re going to call my parents and make a big fuss. Plus I don't even think it’s broken.” 

JJ hummed in agreement, releasing Kie’s cheek from his gentle hold. “She’s right. I think it’s just bruised. Badly bruised and swollen,” he pointed out with furrowed brows, “but bruised.” 

“See!” Kie smiled. Yes, JJ is far from being a doctor. But she knew the blonde had broken his nose before. Twice. So on this, she trusted him and his opinion. “They’re just going to tell me to do exactly what I'm doing.” 

Pope didn’t seem fully sure. But he agreed with whatever Kie wanted to do. There was silence in the room for a while. Kie smiled soon after realizing how freaked all the boys still looked. Their brows were still furrowed, protection still living in their eyes, right next to fear. She promised she was fine. Just hungry and really in need of more ice and a pain pill. Each boy took a job. John B got fresh ice for her pack, since the old ice was starting to melt through even the dish towel and create a mess. JJ ran off to the bathroom to grab a bottle of pain pills from the cabinet. On the way back to the living room, he stopped, remembering the blood staining Kie’s current shirt. He ran into the bedroom and pulled a t-shirt from the drawer he recognized as his. He handed both to Kie and watched as she made her way to the bathroom to change. By the time she came back to the living room, Pope had a big bowl of popcorn in his hand, John B had a fresh ice pack, and JJ was pushing a DVD into the player below the small living room TV. 

The Pogues piled onto the pullout couch, placing Kie in the middle. The let her settle before starting the movie. No one realizing how tired they were until everyone was asleep before the first movie even ended. Kie was still awake when the movie shut off, the only one left of her friends. They were all tangled in each other at this point. There was no real way of telling where anyone’s limbs began or ended. Kie placed her now melted ice pack up on the back rest of the couch, hoping it wouldn’t fall off and onto her aching nose sometime in the night. 

She took one last look at the boys, snoring softly, before laying her head down against JJ’s shoulder next to her. All her life, Kie had prided herself on being able to take care of herself. She was independent since she was a child. She was strong and capable and didn't like people thinking she needed protection. But it was different with her friends. They weren't protective because they thought of her as weak. They knew she was more than capable of defending herself. They were protective because they loved her. Sure they could be erratic  and shaky and maybe even a tiny bit suffocating when she was hurt. But she wouldn't have it any other way. She was able to take care of herself. But it ended up being the most comforting feeling in the world knowing that she didn't always have to. 

[skeletorific]

DUUUUUUUDE I'd love to see your classpects for the boys, n compare them to my own personal hc!! I love godtier stuff, and imagining them in bright silly outfits is just👌

This was so fucking PEACEFUL to work on it was a delight to do so let’s do this. I’m doing extended zodiac signs too because i CAN. Also, putting this under a cut cause it got LONG

CLASSPECTING THE SKELEBROS

UT!Sans: True sign is Scormino, Sign of the Fatalist

So, a point by point breakdown

-Cerulean: something that immediately woke me up to Sans as a Cerulean was the idea of a “mask for every occasion”. Sans is not one thing to all people. He flips between personas, adjusting it a little for each encounter. This isn’t because he’s manipulative per se, but because he genuinely thinks it’ll just make things easier for everyone

-Prospit: Prospit repression yo. Not to mention he’s more go with the flow than he is “fuck the system”.

-Doom: Rather than explain this connection, I’m just gonna paste the description for Doombound, since its practically a textbook description of Sans himself

Those bound to the aspect of Doom are fate’s chosen sufferers. It may not sound like an overly pleasant aspect to be aligned with, but it does come along with great wisdom and empathy. The Doom-bound understand that misery loves company, and they are ready and willing to provide said company. The Doom-bound won’t fix you; they aren’t healers. They are commiserators, aware that sometimes the only thing you can do for a person is let them know that they are not alone in their suffering. They are not the advice friend-they’re the friend you go to when you need to vent about a rough day at work. They are not necessarily noble martyrs, either-the Doom-bound can become quite irate about their lot. At their best they are wise, kind, and non-judgemental. At their worst, bitter, resentful, and fatalistic.

This is a summary of Genocide route Sans so succinct it could’ve been written about him intentionally. I did consider time for him, but ultimately Time is an aspect defined by a struggle. Sans does not struggle against the oncoming fate. He buys it a drink and hopes it leaves as little damage as possible in its wake.

As far as class goes, I classpect him as a Mage of Doom. One who understands or understands through their aspect, and no one understands the coming storm quite like Sans does. Mages are also traditionally understood as suffering as a result of their knowledge of their aspect whether too much or too little. In a sense, Sans’ relationship with the Anomaly encompasses both.

UT!Papyrus: True sign is Aquius, sign of the Whimsical

-Violet: Violet signs are noted for their eccentricity and individuality. I have a harder time coming up with two adjectives more fitting than that for Papyrus. Additionally, they have a reputation for craving social interaction to the point of being clingy, which is also extremely fitting

-Prospit. Not much to add to this one beyond going with the flow and an aversion to going off the beaten path.

-Breath:The aspect of freedom, confidence, imagination, and fun. Something notable about Breath players is that they’re at their best when they let loose and be themselves. Papyrus can’t really be who he wants to be when he’s trying to play a role, of guard captain or human hunter. When he’s being authentic Papyrus though, he’s capable of inspiring hearts and minds.

I classpect Papyrus as a Sylph of Breath. Papyrus does both literal and metaphorical healing. If you get knocked out during your fight with him, he carries you back to his shed and nurses you back to health. Additionally, Papyrus reminds people that they are free to chase their dreams and their own potential. He tries to make the Player recall their better intentions. He pumps up Alphys, restoring her confidence that she’s lost over the years. He heals the relationship between the player and Undyne in order to liberate Undyne to be her more authentic self: a woman who just wants to help her people. Additionally, he is a key facet in liberating the Underground, restoring the sky to people who have been denied it for so long. 

UF!Sans: True sign is Tauriborn, sign of the Covetous

-Bronze: Bronze just has that earthy quality I eat with a SPOON for Red. Additionally, they navigate that space between a genuine desire for stability and a tendency to stubbornly commit even when it hurts you. Additionally, there’s a hedonism associated with Bronze signs that feels very fitting.

-Derse: restless skepticism, a tendency to mistrust, and rebellion in the blood? Sounds like a skeleton who’s been living rent free in my head for long enough.

-Rage: There’s of course a very literal level to this. Red’s one of the angrier of the skelebros. Additionally, though, there’s a resentment of lies and false civilities. Red hates liars, hates convenient likes. He tends to play his own cards close to the chest, but resents it in other people. Additionally, there’s a burn it all down impulse that’s very present in him that resonates with this aspect.

I classpect Red as an Heir of Rage. I tend to understand Heir as one who is surrounded by their aspect, or surrounds other with their aspect. Red surrounds himself in a field of rage, and those who are the target of his wrath are too. Additionally, though, he inherits the positive aspects of wrath, the bullshit detector and the impulse towards seeking out the truth. Additionally heirs tend not to take a very intellectual approach to their aspect, because they don’t have to. They embody it unconsciously. 

UF!Papyrus: I kind of went over this but for the sake of coherency: True sign is Saginius

-Indigos: in addition to having a rep for being the bastions of order, indigos tend to devote themselves entirely to their interest. They can be sociable, but have a tendency to not really consider other people’s emotions, leading to a lot of unintentional hurts. Edge has a cold abrasive personality at many points, but it’s rare that he intends to hurt the people closest to him. It just sort of happens to him.

-Prospit: Again, Edge doesn’t rebel. He works with the society cards he’s been dealt. His prospit associations are where he’s closest to his Tale self.

-Hope: Hope is the aspect, not just of optimism, but of order. Hope players have a very black and white approach to the world, and dedication to ideals that they see as higher than themselves. Both of these are to me very Edge qualities, even if he’s not the most sunshiney person. He has things he believes in strongly, and he doesn’t wave.

I classpect Edge as a Knight of Hope. He defends his aspect, defending his ideals and the things he chooses to dedicate himself, and defends with his aspect, using his internal compass as a bastion against doubt and misgivings. Additionally, Edge has an inherent lean towards protecting and working for others, even if at his most unhealthy point his ego can make him bossy.

US!Sans: Blue’s true sign is Arcer, sign of the Officer

-Burgundy: Rust signs tend to be characterized by an unbending determination. Its not that they’re immune to the bad things in the world, its simply that they tend to roll with the punches and try to make things work regardless. Blue is quick to trust and overly excitable, but a loyal friend and an imaginative companion. All of these are Rust characteristics.

-Prospit: Again, unwavering optimism and a loyal temperament.

-Blood: Blood is the aspect of relationships and mutual support. Blue is an extremely social creature, prone to doing his best work via inspiration. He invests strongly in the people around him, and has a hard time giving up on others. Blood can also be the aspect of sinking ships. They tend to latch on to things and people other’s might consider to be “lost causes” and stubbornly refuse to leave them behind. I tend to characterize Blue with a low level of anxiety, constantly afraid that the people around him are going to leave him behind if he’s not good enough. Peak Blood player. 

I classpect Blue as a Page of Blood. Like I said, Blue’s “Sans” tendencies come out in his interactions with others. Like most pages, he has a very shakey grasp of his aspect. He genuinely has the ability to make people feel cared for and comfortable. He even has great potential to inspire others to do better. However, he’s still in the process of learning how to command his aspect effectively, sometimes vacillating between overloading people with interaction and at other times barely confiding his emotions in even the people he should be close with. As this potential unlocks, though, there’s no ceiling to all he might achieve.

US!Papyrus: Stretch’s true sign is Gemza, sign of the Shrewd

-Gold: Gold signs command intellectual prowess, quick wit, and reserved tendencies in a way Stretch has done his entire life. Something notable about goldbloods is they have a tendency to refuse to live up to their full potential. They find their niche and carve out their mark within it while letting the rest of their life functionally fade to the background as “unimportant”. Stretch is adept and knowledgeable in his areas of interest and finds it hard to give a shit about the rest. Despite this, he still hangs on to the goldblood’s usually innate likeability, albeit without much emotional vulnerability. 

-Derse: While Stretch isn’t exactly a rebel, Derse has an association with skepticism and a desire for rationality that inherently resonates with him. One thing that also stood out to me is a tendency to develop a very self-effacing sense of humor as a cover, which is a VERY Stretch quality. He doesn’t quite have the repression for Prospit, nor will he let himself be put into boxes that don’t suit him.

-Mind: Mind players (and Stretch) are defined by a certain sense of fluidity. They don’t really feel compelled to develop a strong sense of self, preferring instead to react organically to how they think is best and most logical to the moment. Stretch is a creative and quick thinker, which combines with a very nasty FOMO and an aversion to simplicity. Absolute Mind Player Core.

His classpect is tricky, but I feel Witch of Mind is the most fitting for him. Witches are often characterized by having a more lackadaisical relationship with their aspect. They understand it intimately enough to know how to break it when it suits them. In addition to reason and choice, Mind is also the aspect of systems and rules (think Terezi’s justice core). Stretch is a quick study about systems, but doesn’t necessarily adhere himself to them. Whether its a game he’s playing, a puzzle he’s solving, or a person he’s interacting with, sometimes the best thing in the world is to dig in and study until you find the point that breaks the whole thing open.

SF!Sans: Black’s true sign is Cancen, sign of the Translucent

-Lime: Lime signs tends to be characterized by forceful and intense personalities, with intense emotions and a tendency to fixate on improvement. They can often be effective at inspiring people to follow their lead, but have difficult personalities to work with. All of this is extremely Black, with the proviso that I tend to characterize him as often needing to repress those intense emotions. He leans hard into his own anger, but often covers up his other extremes for the sake of their own safety. 

-Derse: while Black has learned to cooperate with the world around him, he’s never not going to be looking for ways to get around it. He’s often sardonic, and is usually extremely slow to trust those around him. He may put on a front of being the Queen’s man through and through, but there’s a lot of Irons in the fire that he doesn’t feel the need to make public.

-Heart: As I said, I tend to characterize Black as struggling against strong emotions that even he barely understands. He has a very distinct and strong personality, as well as intensive emotions. In moments of stress, he’s prone to intense self-reflection. Where did he go wrong, where can he improve. Additionally Heart players have an association with identity constructing, frequently diffusing their personality into a variety of splinter selves in a form of elaborate “roleplaying”, which to me clicks nicely with Black’s bossy and aggro Royal Guard posturing. 

Its because of this struggle against his own aspect that I classpect Black as a Rogue of Heart. Rogues often struggle to cope with their aspect, and may even begin to crave the opposite. Black at his core craves the rational thought and pure justice of the Mind aspect. However, the more they embrace their aspect, especially in service to others (being a passive class), the healthier they often end up being. If you’ve read my “Tyrant” fic, Black steals his and Rus’s performance of self to allow them the freedom to act and pass unnoticed by the guard. He represses his own emotions to give space to other people’s, and at his best can redistribute his own assurance with his purposes to the people around him, making him potentially an inspiring presence.

SF!Papyrus: Rus’ true sign is Capries, sign of the Bold

-Purple: purples have a tendency to dedicate themselves to causes or people they care about and work until they are either stopped or made incapable or working more, much as Rus works for his brother’s well-being. Additional points of resonance were a macabre sense of humor, a tendency to withdraw when upset, a sense of fatalism, and a tendency to dig in his heels even if its against his own best interest. Plus….Clown Rus sexy what can I say.

-Derse: like his brother, Rus is inherently skeptical of easy outs. Like many Derse dreamers, he’s a problem solver, even if it comes at great personal cost. Rus’s Derseness is also exemplified in his tendency to develop strong bonds of loyalty to other people….without ever really allowing himself to be vulnerable with those people. He has the perspective that his emotions don’t truly matter.

-Time: Honestly kind of surprised it took me this long to make one of the Lazybones a time player, but I think making Rus it was the right choice. Time players are often defined by a sense of struggle. Time players are seemingly incapable of taking things lying down. Even if they won’t fight for themselves (and Rus rarely ever will) they often have an internal moral code that makes them unable to be a bystander. Rus is lazy, he’s a fatalist, he has a hard time taking care of himself. But he’s unable to stop himself from acting, especially when it involves someone he cares about. Additionally, Rus has associations with death in his judge role, which he takes extremely seriously.

I debated making Rus another knight, but ultimately I feel Seer of Time fits him better. All the Sans derivatives are prone to a sort of restless curiosity about the world around them, and in Homestuck terms I see that as a desire to in some way sync up with their aspects. A Seer is one who invites understanding. Rus seeks to reckon with both the cycle of life and death and the wide variety of timestreams that are causing havoc in his world. Unlike the mage, he has a hard time accepting what he understands: Seers are in many cases notorious for resenting the idea of someone else controlling them. Still, he’s practically unable to stop himself from exploring further, continuing to pick and pick at the scab of his reality no matter how much it hurts.

[queentargary3n]

unfaithful

Summary: Sakura is surprised to see Sasuke is the senior associate of the firm she is supposed to start working for. All of her feelings start to come back 10 years after he abandoned her. Sasuke finds out somethings are truly never behind you, and when he starts falling back in love with her, his past comes to hunt him. Her biggest issue? He is already married.

Sasusaku Fanfic AU Lawyers. M

chapter 2 

FF.net

Sakura felt terrible the next morning. It was as if all of her past embarrassments and mistakes were playing over and over inside her head, all night long. By the time she was supposed to wake up, she had gotten maybe 3 hours of sleep, if she was lucky.

Walking out the shower she assessed herself in the mirror, she had to remind herself that she had been over Sasuke Uchiha for a long time, that he couldn’t affect her anymore, that she was an accomplished law school graduate now amongst other things. I’ll be fine, I’ll avoid Sasuke-kun like the plague and I’ll be fine. Besides it will be fun working with Naruto. The firm seems like a friendly enough place.

So, she applied a cooling mask to her massive under-eye bags and make up to hide her lack of rest, and put on her lucky dress, a work-appropriate red bodycon dress for confidence. After all red had always been her color.

Upon arriving, was received at the front desk this time by an unfriendly red headed, bespectacled receptionist, who scowled at her entrance, eyed her from head to toe, and rolled her eyes when Sakura introduced herself.

“Mhmm right… newbie. Sit down, I’ll get you when I’m ready” The red-haired woman said, and continued to look at her computer, at what Sakura thought it looked more like social medial instead of work related.

15 whole minutes passed before the receptionist decided it was time to call for someone to get Sakura from the waiting area. Few seconds later, an attractive long-haired blonde with baby-blue eyes walked out, and looked at the receptionist expectantly, who in turn, pointed at Sakura with her perfectly manicured finger, and resumed her activity.

“Well, you’re late! Terrible first impression by the way, the Senior associate hates that, follow me!” Said the blonde as she wailed inside the actual offices.

Sakura was annoyed at this point. Cha! she did that on purpose! She thought. She followed the blue-eyed woman into the entrance doors and tried to listen attentively as she was given the official tour of the facilities.

“That was the waiting area for clients mostly, of course someone will call you and take the client to your office, when you have one. This in the center is the break area, that behind the bar is our humble coffee machine, of course if you want good coffee the best option is to go down to the coffee shop in the first floor, which most people do. Restroom is on the back here, and right across from here you’ll find your office” She pointed to a small office on the corner. All offices were arranged in a circle around the break area, separated by glass panels instead of walls, completely visible to anyone.

Sakura walked into her assigned office, it was furnished simply with a minimalist black desk and luxurious white chairs on either side.

“And this is for you…” She was handed a large box containing her newly printed business cards, that read:

U&U Attorneys at Law

HARUNO SAKURA J.D.

Civil Law Attorney.

Sakura was engrossed in her thoughts, trying to decide how the missing title in her name made her feel. She was so used to seeing her name end with a M.D. if felt strange to keep that a secret.

“Alright, so I’m Ino Yamanaka, I’m a paralegal, but I work here as an assistant on account of my awesome skills, I’ll be yours and two other Junior associate’s assistant, so don’t be getting any ideas, I won’t get your coffee, or pick up your dry cleaning and what not, I have more important things to do, I have all the connections with the attorney general’s office, and pretty much every single private investigator in the area, so that is my job, you might have been a genius in law school or whatever, but I’ve been here longer, and I know how to work the system, got it forehead?”

Ino knew she had to be assertive to deal with egocentric lawyers who always seemed to think they were hotshots simply for graduating. She felt pretty confident as this one seemed the be left wide-eyes and open mouthed at her insult.

I was obviously mistaken about the friendliness of this place. Sakura thought. But there was something refreshing about Ino’s attitude of not taking crap from anyone.

Ino was taken aback when the pinkette simply gave her an honestly kind smile, said “Nice to meet you! I’m looking forward to working with you, I just hope that your pig-headedness is not contagious” and dared to extend her hand in greeting.

“Ha! I think I might just get along with ya!” She laughed, brushing her long ponytail back with elegance. “Get settled and let’s go get a coffee so we can go on, ne?”

“I’m okay, shall we?” Sakura responded. She was guided by Ino back into the break area and handed a cup to pour herself some coffee. “Ne, Ino? Does everyone in this officer look like a model? I’m serious, the last time I saw so many attractive people under the same roof was, well never” She continued with a nervous smile, leaning against the centered bar-table with her hand on her cheek.

“Mmm? Feeling inadequate here, Sakura-san?” The blonde said, a hint of cattiness evident in her baby-blue eyes.

“Ha ha ha, just Sakura please and … noooo!” She responded nervously, although she did, in fact. Ino had the kind of body she had always wished to have when younger: curvy, busty and tall. So did the red-haired receptionist. She had come to terms with loving her body just as it was, by the time she came an adult, but in this situation in was difficult not to feel self-conscious. To think she had to come to work with these people every single day.

“Karin and I are the only two other females of the firm, so you won’t have to feel too intimidated” Ino said grinning. “The rest of the guys are pretty cool, once you get to know them, although Kiba is a shameless flirt so, careful”

“Karin, huh?” Sakura asked, wondering what the deal was with the hostile front desk attendant.

“Yup, you just met her out front, she always acts as if she owns the place, she is the receptionist, she doesn’t do much, that’s when she bothers to show up, really, she might be the boss’s wife, but she is definitely not the owner”

Sakura choked and spat out her coffee. “She is Sasuke’s wife?!”

“Yeah, I share in your disappointment girl, she works here to keep an eye on him” Ino said as she leaned in the bar next to Sakura.

“Does he like… sleep around?” Sakura wondered.

“What, no. I mean he doesn’t with me, and if he doesn’t with me, I mean” She explained as she gestured towards her body, as if it was something obvious and gave Sakura a little wink. “But I digress, she has a massive inferiority complex, extremely jealous and insecure, she’ll definitely try to rip you to pieces”

That explains the lack of girls around the office. Sakura thought, and said “I guess having your spouse around the office needlessly is pretty tacky”  

Unbeknownst to the two, someone else was listening in, at least for the last few parts. Sasuke was standing next to a pillar, watching the pair from behind. A scowl deep in his face, he took a sip from his mug and continued to listen in.

“So, Naruto-san is the other Senior associate, he will come in any moment now, before court, he will call a meeting, and he and Uchiha-san will assign the cases available, you’d be lucky if you get to do research for another associate’s case, Uchiha-san doesn’t like to assign cases to Junior associates until the prove themselves worthy” Ino explained.

Coincidentally at that moment, Naruto walked in the floor, in black pants and orange blazer, leaving Sakura to wonder if he had several ones of just wore the same suit two days in a row.

“Good morning everyone” He announced. “Sakura-chan! Looking lovely as always.” He was almost yelling, as he approached the pinkette and brought her in on a one-handed hug and held his arm over her shoulders.

Sakura was embarrassed, with everyone now walking out of their offices to watch, but she did always feel reassured with Naruto’s displays of affection, it was just the way he was.

Sasuke walked in from behind and cleared in throat, pushing Naruto to the side and taking a stand between his friend and Sakura. None of this on my watch idiot. He thought.

“Have any announcements teme?” Naruto said to begin the meeting. Unaffected by the interaction.

“Ah, as you might know, the trial for the case Konoha hospital v. Senju is coming up, pretty much medical malpractice suit, doctor says she had not choice to save patients life, hospital board is siding the patient. Because of the notoriety of the case I’m on it, Naruto still has his wrong full termination case with Shikamaru as second chair, Kiba continue to work with Shino on that animal abuse claim, get it dismissed before trial, the rest of you, do paperwork, that’s all”

“Wait, I want Sakura-chan as second chair for your case teme” Naruto said.

Sakura’s was left wide eyed at the last part. She was fully prepared to not be assigned a case, as per Ino’s explanation, but she had not expected Naruto to intercede.

“I… don’t need a second chair” Sasuke said seriously. Sakura thought she could almost see a dark aura of killing intent coming from him. Daggers shooting from his eyes.

“Aaaaa I think you do, that’s all everyone, good work!” He replied, looking at Sakura with a shit-eating grin.

Sasuke was scowling, but instead of saying anything he turned around and left. The blond uncharacteristically smirked and gave Sakura a small wink before taking his leave too.

“Just what the fuck was that all about?” Ino said, voicing Sakura’s own thoughts.

“I really don’t know…” Sakura said.

“You didn’t tell me you know the big boss!”

“Naruto? Am yeah, his wife and I were roommates in college” Sakura explained, walking back to her officer and taking a seat behind her desk.

“You know his wife? I’ve only ever seen her at the Christmas party. She doesn’t say much does she?” Ino asked, wiggling her eyebrows and taking a seat from across.

“Careful Ino, you don’t want to seem like a gossip” Sakura answered teasing. “She is… the sweetest person you can ever meet, she is so kind, and caring, really the perfect match for a guy like Naruto, but she is really shy thought, I practically had to force those two together”

“Ow that was sweet. And Naruto-san? How do you know him?”

“He was my best friend during college, he was in one of my freshman classes and we became pretty inseparable after that, but we lost touch after graduation, he only called me a few days ago to meet up and offered me the job” Sakura was grinning by then, and blushing as she tended to do. She was truly grateful for the opportunity Naruto had given her. Not so many recent graduates had the luxury of starting out in a law firm of this caliber.

Ino made a mock scandalous face, excited to finally have some drama around the office. “Ha? Are you guys hooking up?”

“No! He’s my friend! And I would never hook up with a married man, that’s terrible Ino!”

“Nah, what a disappointment, and here I thought you were kind of exciting forehead”

x

Thank you so much if you are still reading this. Please don't forget to leave your thoughts in a comment, what can I do better? where would you like this to go?

[mischief-over-matter]

Binary | Part I

Gravity is an inescapable force, even within the darkest corners of the universe. It's only a matter of time before something collides.

EMERGENCY STARTUP INITIALIZING

BOOTING...

BOOTING...

BOOTING...[SUCCESS]

BIOS Configuration: [SUCCESS]

Loading OS...

CPU Check: [SUCCESS]

API Check: [SUCCESS]

Memory Banks: [OK]

AI Application: [OK]

Internal Software: [OK]

Anatomical Components: [OK]

Finalizing...

EMERGENCY STARTUP COMPLETE

INITIALIZING USER INTERFACE

       ◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

For someone in a quite literal life-or-death situation, you were taking the news of your possible demise rather well. Perhaps that doesn't say much for someone in your line of work. Space exploration was a risky business, and coming home was not always guaranteed. Most, if not all who worked for the Federal Alliance of Astronomic Exploration knew that possibility before they signed on the dotted line.

You didn't expect it would be on your first solo mission, though.

In hindsight, your day seemed a little bit too perfect leading up to this mess, and maybe your cynical subconscious was expecting this pivotal point where everything goes south. Regardless, you weren't one to sit by while cursing your misfortune. And overall, it could be even worse. At least the life support was still functioning.

Oh, how you wished there was wood somewhere on the ship.

Standard protocol demands that regardless of the severity of the crisis, the ship's captain - in your case, yourself - was to immediately activate the emergency beacon and contact mission control. Step one was already a fail. According to the diagnostic scans, communications, navigation, and the engines were severely damaged and would take hours or even days for the self-repair bots to make any sort of significant progress. So, channeling in your former academy student self, you skipped right on to Plan B.

"Greetings, Lieutenant."

Or rather, Plan B skipped right on to you.

You nearly jumped out of your chair but managed to only give a startled gasp. Wheeling around, you came face to face with Plan B. For a glorified chunk of metal, it sure did move quietly.

"Are you alright?" said chunk of metal asked with a surprising amount of realism to his...its tone. "I detected a sudden increase in your heart rate. Are you in need of medical attention?"

You stared, temporarily taken aback by its sudden appearance. Sure, you were briefed on the purpose of the Auxiliary Crisis Sensory Emulating Learner, or ACSEL for short, but seeing one activated was an entirely new experience. The almost lifelike expression was truly something to behold, and you really ought to give a shout-out to the techs back home who made this happen. If you made it home...

Which led back to the matter at hand.

"No, I'm okay. You just surprised me, that's all," you sighed. "I didn't receive a notification that you were activated."

The ACSEL unit tilted its head and narrowed its eyes as if contemplating. It really was going to take some time getting used to those mannerisms on an android. "Perhaps there is an error in the ship's software?" It lightly smiled while extending its right hand towards you. "The CS Zenith is equipped with self-diagnostics and repair, yes? If I may, I would like to run an additional test. Permission to proceed, Lieutenant?"

You blinked, finally breaking yourself away from your thoughts to fall back into professionalism. Standing up and squaring your shoulders, you firmly shook his - its hand. To your ever-growing surprise, it was warm and smooth, yet undeniably solid. Almost like silicone.

"Granted," you replied before stepping to the side. It easily slid into the pilot's chair and instantly brought up the ship's readings. Nothing had changed. You watched in silent fascination while the android worked the dashboard as if it had years of experience under its belt. But your curiosity returned, and you found yourself wondering just how long it took to make something as complex as the ACSEL unit. Its designer obviously modeled it off of human anatomy, not too dissimilar to a store mannequin. The white exterior was a stark contrast to the muted colors of the cockpit. Gray lines decorated its body, allowing seamless, free-range movement that added to the realism. Give it a wig, slap some clothes on it, hide the port at the base of its head and you could definitely see someone mistaking the machine for a human. It even imitated a non-robotic masculine timbre almost perfectly.

The most intriguing thing about it though was the eyes. Glowing, electric blue eyes.

"Lieutenant?"

"Yes?"

"While my system processes the damages, would you like to begin personalization?"

You raised a brow. "What for? I had thought you would be outfitted with knowledge about my basic information once you were activated?"

The android flicked a switch on the dashboard, allowing a port to be exposed before inserting its index finger. In any other situation, it would have been comical, but you surmised that this was a part of the machine's processing. "And you would be correct. However, I am referring to myself. One of my functions is personalization to assist with lessening the emotional and psychological impact that an emergency could have. Once I have established that the current environment is stable enough for such, of course," it explained before pausing. "In short, it is to make you feel more comfortable."

"Right..." you trailed off, idly scratching your cheek.

"The process is completely optional if you are satisfied with my default settings," it added gently. " I do not wish to provide you with unnecessary stress."

Chuckling, you waved him - it off dismissively. "It's not that. I just...never mind. How about starting with what I should address you as?"

It gave you a side glance, lips turned upwards once more. "I respond to my model and serial number, A.C.S.E.L. 749710145-121111117-110-103, but due to its length I can be assigned a temporary moniker of your choosing until I undergo a factory reset."

You were sorely tempted to name it something utterly ridiculous. You could almost feel the disapproval from your superior officer at the mere thought of it.

"If it aids you at all, the engineers had named me Blue during my trial period," it offered.

How innovative.

"Blue works," you said at last, much to the android's delight. Could it even feel such a thing? It certainly seemed so as you watch its smile turn into a wide grin and the blue irises rotated in recognition. Nevertheless, you returned the smile albeit hesitantly. "Status update."

"Ah...my systems have confirmed the Zenith has experienced internal engine failure, significant damage to the transmitter and faulty wiring to the navigation. Causes are inconclusive. Hull integrity and life support are operating at 100% efficiency. The estimated time of repair is between 96 and 125 hours."

You relaxed ever-so-slightly. A week wouldn't make much of an impact on your scheduled three-month journey to Alpha Centauri's space outpost. And with the beacon activated, your chances of getting out of here unscathed are highly in your favor. "Noted. Then proceed as needed. I'm going to check on the cargo," you stated.

"No need, Lieutenant," Blue assured while standing. It approached you before clasping its hands behind its back. "I will take that responsibility while you rest. You have been showing signs of minor sleep deprivation in addition to a decrease in your epinephrine levels."

Perplexed, you crossed your arms, suddenly feeling a wave of self-consciousness. "You can gauge my adrenaline? How?"

Maybe you said that a bit too forcefully because Blue actually flinched, as if surprised at your tone. Never in your life did you think you would feel regret for snapping at a machine. You must really be more exhausted than you thought.

"Not through nefarious means, I promise," he - it faltered. "My optic sensors can detect even the subtlest of movements. I...I noticed your body language gradually became more relaxed and your heart rate slowed. My intention was not to cause you distress, Lieutenant. I apologize."

Jesus Christ, you genuinely felt bad now.

"Uh, don't be. I should be apologizing. Getting snippy with you was highly unprofessional," you murmured wearily. Rubbing your left temple, you glanced up to see him observing you with an open stare. Looking closely, you could see his irises whirling. Processing information, perhaps? "Blue?"

It blinked and smiled as if amused. "Apologizing to a machine is unnecessary. I do not feel offended. Though I suppose the gesture is an indication of your good nature, so I thank you."

"You're...welcome?" That's enough weirdness for one day, you thought to yourself. "I will go take my leave then if you don't need me for anything else."

"Not at all, Lieutenant. Please sleep well."

"You too." Biting your tongue, you inwardly cringed at your automatic response. "I mean-"

Blue laughed, apparently unfazed by your slip up. "I shall, thank you."

As you departed from the cockpit, you rubbed the heel of your palm against your right eye. It was the strangest thing; talking to a machine that seemed so human. The FAAE had an abundance of the latest technology, including interactive AI programs. But Blue was the most advanced piece of work you had ever interacted with. It was almost jarring.

The walk back to your quarters was a short one, as the Zenith was one of the smaller cargo ships. Your room lacked any personal items and only housed the bare necessities such as a bed, closet, a small desk, and bathroom. The lights flickered on and the door hissed shut, leaving you to bask in privacy. Eyelids heavy, you decided to shower in the morning. A casual glance at your holopad showed the time back home: 8:47 A.M.

Make that in the evening.

Zipping down your flight suit, you tossed it on the chair before rummaging your closet for a shirt and sweatpants. "Computer. Set an alarm for 4:00 P.M."

      ◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

The cockpit was relatively silent, save for the gentle hum of the reactor core only Blue could hear. Most of the overhead lights had been dimmed, indicating that the Lieutenant had gone to sleep. The android remained in the chair, perfectly still for 72.8 seconds before closing its eyes.

"ACSEL Unit reporting to Professor Thorne. Do you copy?"

Static feedback permeated its receptors. It felt its nonexistent brow crease in concentration. A few moments passed until it could faintly hear a reply.

"Proceed," was the garbled response.

"Preparing to upload visual and audio recordings as well as acquired data to the server...now." The surge of data left its system almost instantaneously, even from such a distance.

Thorne gave a pleased hum. "Continue your directive and ensure the subject remains incognizant until your arrival. Understood?" they emphasized.

"Yes, Professor."

The connection abruptly ended and Blue rapidly blinked back into focus.

Only the sight of stars and the vastness of space greeted the android. Tilting its head to the side, Blue zoomed in as much as his optics would allow on a particular star. The celestial body remained as but a speck of light to its viewpoints. These rare moments of free agency were captivating, and although it could merely emulate emotion, Blue's receptors always reacted positively. It struggled to understand why the professor always voiced against it. No matter. Such a variable was not programmed within its systems to be of concern. Even so, it remained enamored by the dangerous amalgamations of hydrogen and helium that roamed the universe.

"아름다운..." Blue whispered, unaware that it had spoken at all.

[laur-rants]

Transfiguration -- Ch 2: Better

Fandom: Doom Rating: Mature, because violence against demons Pairing: Sam/Slayer [eventually] Summary: There’s definitely still some strain going on here. AO3 Link Previous Chapter: Next Chapter

------------

Hayden paces Room 235, his long legs taking him the distance of the extended, decorative table in the center of the room in only half a dozen steps. He looks down at the ingrained wood; in stark contrast to the clean, geometric blue and white of the building, the table was actually two halves of a dark, rust-colored trunk, with the gap between the halves connected and filled with a golden epoxy. His optics traced the intricate designs; every flaw in the wood, every knot, every bore had been filled with the striking gold, making the near-black finish look as if it was bleeding rivers of molten fire. Every imperfection, perfected and made all the more beautiful for it.

Hayden runs two of his right arm's four spidery, cybernetic fingers along the table, testing their sensitivity. He detects the smooth finish, the work of the expert who designed the furniture-- but also, there is the imperceptible sensation of the tree's rings, the story of its life laid bare under the sealant. He brings those same fingers back up to his chin, resting them there in a thoughtful manner-- a painfully human thing to do, Hayden decides, and his hand drops unceremoniously to his side.

It's five minutes past the hour (and 47 minutes after his original message was sent) when the sealed and reinforced glass doors to the meeting room finally slide open with a hiss. Hayden's attention turns from the table instead to a person he hasn't seen face to face in over a decade: the Hell Walker, the Unchained Predator, the Doom Slayer. A reputation that preceded someone who was, in reality, just a single man, cursed millennia ago to face Hell alone, blessed by angels to make sure his rage was honed into the deadliest spear. The imperfect… perfected.

Today, however, he just looks tired and maybe a touch annoyed that Hayden called him here.

"Ah, Slayer," Hayden starts, his voice cool and unbothered. "Thank you for making it on short notice. I had figured you'd get tired of that hospital bed soon enough; did the doctors treat you well, at least?"

Slayer says nothing, as expected. He appears to have only brought half of the Praetor Suit with him, perhaps due to the tender bandages covering his body. His arms and torso and head are exposed, but his Praetor boots and belt remain. At the mention of doctors, Slayer's lip curls and he looks away. He decides against moving from the doorway, instead allowing the huge table to act like a chasm between the him and Hayden.

"I'll take the bandages as a good sign, then," Hayden continues, ignoring the strained atmosphere. "Nobody goes up against the Icon of Sin without retaining a few injuries along the way. Not even the Destroyer himself."

Slayer's face distorts in disgust, as well as another, hard-to-place emotion (is it confusion?). The cyborg tilts his head a half a degree, studying the man as analytically as possible. Hayden's HUD calls up Slayer's vitals; aside from the re-stitched and bandaged lacerations, he was perfectly healthy. Nothing to worry about, per usual. When Slayer shifts, Hayden refocuses on his face, anticipating a response-- instead the man just leans against the door frame, arms crossed, eyes bored. Hayden sighs; of course Slayer's being stubborn as always, so he takes the initiative, walking around the conference table in the middle of the room, tapping a button at the corner closest to Slayer. It brings up a hologram of what appears to be Earth, with demon hotspots zones marked, though they all look dramatically reduced in size.

"I am glad you're up and about, though. You may not care, but there's much to be done that you could still help with. This Earth has barely begun to heal itself but luckily it is, just like humanity, extremely resilient."

This Earth. Hayden keeps an eye on him, but Slayer doesn't even flinch at the clear distinction. He breathes a sigh of relief that neither of them feel like beating around that particular bush today.

A few more button presses bring up the Moon, and, more distressing, a shattered image of Mars.

"Luna and Mars are both of another issue. With the Icon gone, most forces are being called back to Hell on the Earth's surface meaning humanity can recolonize. Anyone directly connected to the Deags or UAC's Tier 3 recruitment are being located and incarcerated. But Luna remains dust in space, and personnel on Phobos are still scrambling with the remaining demonic forces and the new gigantic scar quite visible on Mars' surface. Luckily for you--" Hayden tilts his head in mild irritation towards the Slayer for emphasis "--your heroic actions means you won't be charged nor will you be pursued for the permanent damage done to the red planet." Hayden says that last part with dripping annoyance, and the Slayer has enough gall to grin in response, as if to say "who would be stupid enough to try and pursue me, anyway?"

"Don't give me that look, Doom Slayer," Hayden chides, but the sly smirk doesn't falter. "Mars will never be the same. Perhaps it is for the better… Argent energy is, for the most part, gone. It can still be manufactured here in a man-made capacity, but it will soon require the Crucible to make the process continuous; however, it is still powering the Fortress of Doom. It is possible humanity could regain access to Argent by reforging your blade on Argent D'Nur. I'm sure the Fortress can access that world, when you are well enough to we can--"

The Doom Slayer clears his throat.

The sound cuts Hayden off completely. He looks over, hearing that ragged noise without really registering what it meant, not really, not until Slayer rumbles out another sound before--

"Samur. Shut up."

The silence hangs as Hayden appears to obediently listen to Slayer's command. He stands up straighter, rocking back on a mechanical heel, but Slayer's gaze doesn't waver. Hayden breaks the contact first, a weakness he is sure Slayer will use to his advantage. But what else could he do but take a moment? That was a name he had not heard spoken in millennia. It was a title lost to time, a title Hayden had nearly forgotten, and almost wished he hadn't remembered in the first place.

It left him suitably silenced.

"Ah, of course." He starts, recomposing himself. "I should have expected you to realize, given enough time and interaction, who I was, or used to be." It wasn't a true facade-- this name, this body, the escape to this planet --but he wasn't fit to discuss it, not yet. Not when Slayer had already figured the truth of the matter, and he wasn't clear of all the details himself. That didn't stop images flashing by-- of racing stars, of violent dismemberment, of feeling his atoms pull apart and back together again and again--

"Information on Urdak," he continues, his even tone belying his passing internal turmoil, "is limited on this planet, if not completely non-existent outside of unreliable religious text. For us to finish our mission you needed to know everything I knew, and being directly connected to Maykr technology only enhanced what I already knew, gave greater clarity." The robot shifted on his legs, acutely remembering how he had been without those specific limbs not too long ago.

Slayer, however, shakes his head, grunting in annoyance. Even being most of the way out of his armor, even when more than three feet of height separated Hayden from Slayer, that did not stop the man's physique from radiating power and intimidation.

"Before," the Marine manages, his voice still a ruined mess. Perhaps something happened to it in Hell, Hayden hypothesizes. There's no way it was from back then, with the Sentinels. They enjoyed your war cry far too much to ever... Hayden pushes those intrusive thoughts from his mind as, somehow, Slayer continues. "Back when I woke up." His eyes dart to Hayden, look him over, and his expression goes steely.

"Liked you better, before."

Something in Slayer's tone hits Hayden personally. Before. Back when he was still Samur Maykr, back when maykr and demon called him Seraphim, back when Argent D'Nur wasn't destroyed for the sake of energy and power. It was filled with a strange nostalgia, one that pulls at a string in Hayden that was long-since cut and left to fray. Still, he manages a leveled response.

"I only wanted to help them, you know," Samur -- no, he was Samuel now, and never before had he misstepped on his own name, not until Slayer had said it himself, in that accusing tone -- retorts, holding ground. Hayden's voice is still rough and mechanical, but the defensive edge laces every word. "I found an Earth, I saw what they discovered, and I knew it was only a matter of time before it led to demons as well as to you--"

Slayer heavily frowns and he coughs out a rough growl before looking away. He's quick to head back out the door he came in from, gaining physical distance from Hayden as his Praetor boots thudded heavily against the surgical tile.

A feeling of panic strong enough to spike a system warning message overcomes Hayden's HUD and his cyborg body begins to follow Slayer of it's own accord.

"This world-- you are not a constant, Slayer," He argues. "They were doomed to be swallowed whole, just like your Deimos, just like parts of Argent D'Nur, just like countless nameless realms and worlds. I had to stay, emulate you while I searched, while I tried to do better than--"

Slayer stomps away, faster now, but Hayden's longer, tireless legs are moving, closing the gap quickly as Hayden makes the cardinal mistake of reaching out to touch an exposed shoulder.

Slayer snarls, grabbing Hayden's hand and twisting it. His eyes are flashing as the hand the Slayer crushes spurts electricity, the long metallic fingers crunched in his palm. The same sensors trained to register the subtle changes in wood grain now scream in a form of pain, lighting up his visual array. The fire in Slayer's eyes burn with anger and Hayden realizes too late his egregious miscalculation.

"Using that energy… I would have never…" Slayer can barely get the sentence out before his vocal cords are working against him, causing a cough so strong he has to look away. The menace soon returns, however; the hand is mangled again, shoved away from the accosted shoulder so hard it nearly falls off Hayden's arm. The cyborg just stares, watchful and expressionless.

"You are not better, not anymore," Slayer rasps, only getting the spitting rebuke out on a whispered exhale. Then he's turning away, his throat roughly clearing, before resuming his march. The doctors and technicians he passes all turn to stop and look at him but he pays them no mind as he stomps off towards his room. Many of them soon rush to Hayden, still standing in the hallway outside Room 235.

Why had he even called Slayer there in the first place? Surely it wasn't it have this sort of outcome take place. Hayden's systems scream at him, flashing red in his peripheral. His arm was losing functions; Slayer must have cut a fuel line to the lower limb. He's dimly aware of a technician nearby, already running diagnostics, already saying something along the lines of "are you ok sir, let us just check this over, we'll have a replacement ready for you in--"

He waves off the ARC employee and turns to walk away.

Better. What did the Slayer mean, saying he wasn't 'better'? His actions have saved this Earth, saved humanity, and in time, would free his own people of corruption and let them be born anew. Wasn't all of that the outcome Slayer wanted, too? Doesn't this make all of those sacrifices worth it? Hayden wasn't looking for praise, no, but was a little acknowledgement for what they'd both accomplished too much to ask for?

He should've known the Slayer's trust wasn't so easily won over.

------

[Taras Nabad, ??? Years ago]

He is standing on the outer wall of Teras Nabad (one of the greatest Sentinel cities, he's come to learn), watching on as the inner wall begins to burn. A huge, hulking form relentlessly attacks the city, lit in the darkness of early morning by the fires of its own destruction. It tosses it's giant, horned head, the Hell essence falling from its eyes like molten tears, and the roar it emits pierces the very heavens.

The man known to the Argent people only as Slayer clenches his fists at the sight before him. His hands are begging for a demonic throat to close around, if only to calm the torrential wave of memory-induced anger threatening to drown him. Of all the fights, of everything that he has borne witness to, living a hundred lives in a personal purgatory…

That Titan. He could not defeat it. For the first time, his rage alone was not enough.

He had seen Titans in Hell before, of course, but it was always in passing, and always from a distance. He dreamt (if one could call the feverish vision he had, dreams) of ripping them asunder with his own fists, of finding creative ways to murder them, just like the rest. Perhaps he would end up being swallowed, fighting his way out, bursting with his shotgun with huge guts flying asunder. Or perhaps saw off their horns, drive in the spikes ruining their body, crashing them down into the Hell energy they themselves created. No matter the fashion, there was always a way. He reveled in the challenge of actually finding it..

But now, the challenge is before him and it is a difficult pill to swallow; Slayer, the unstoppable force, could not budge this gigantic immovable object.

He turned from the sight, finding it hard to witness another city he called home fall to demons. As the Night Sentinels he fought with found a moment of sleep, he remained restless, constantly on alert, the wheels turning too loudly in his head to bring him peace. For the first time in so many realms and so many worlds, he felt… despair. It left his mouth tasting like cinders and ash.

"You sure do take the title Night Sentinel to heart," drones a deep, ethereal voice, and Slayer turns to his right. He is startled but unsurprised to see the hooded figure of the Seraphim watching him from the shadow of the bridge tower. Slayer manages to roll his eyes and beckons the Maykr over; the Seraphim only hesitates a moment before finally relenting. He is robed in red, a robe he donned specifically for moments like this, the hood obscuring his face and his intentions. As he nears Slayer, he hesitates again, pulling the hood back only when the coast is deemed clear. The Seraphim's face was slightly different from the others of his kind, more individual than the angels and their militaristic uniformity. No, his metallic Maykr mask gleams softly even in the dark, four eyes sharp and glowing, the crescent of energy upon his forehead reminiscent of the orb held within the Mother Khan herself. Though he was close to the same height of Slayer, he floated a few feet above the ground and his body whirred softly as mechanical armor worked in perfect tandem with the tentacled flesh hiding just underneath.

Slayer smiles. It is brief and does not reach his eyes. "And you really need to shut up, Samur."

The name prompts a grin from the Maykr, as if the line is a long-standing joke between them. Samur watches Slayer, carefully, unblinking, then turns to observe the monster befalling the city. Such a huge set piece, it almost felt unreal. Here was the end the world, and at the rate the titan was moving, it would claim it by morning.

There is a silence that hangs between man and angel for a while before Samur turns to Slayer and says plainly, "I do not have much time. You know this."

Slayer nods, then swallows. "I cannot kill the beast," he confesses, and it sounds so much worse aloud than in his head. "All my tricks, my weapons… I can't rip this beast asunder. It sees my rage, my fury...and ignores it."

Samur is quiet, listening to Slayer, with an unmoved expression, but even his alien calculation appears to register the Slayer's bittersweet emotion. There is something else there, and it maykr turn and watch Slayer carefully.

"You can't possibly be considering defeat?" Samur asks, near incredulous.

"No, not like that. I can't run... I will… I will die fighting it. There is nothing else for it." He looks down, his muscular frame deflated. "This was an inevitability, Samur. I knew in my heart this would happen. I will go down fighting these monsters and my dying breath will be the final assault. It will be an end I will be proud of. I just…" his eyes soften.

"You just what?" asks that graveled whale song, followed by that imperceptible head tilt.

"I just need to be better," he mutters softly. "But I'm only a man. I'm mortal. And no single mortal can bring down something like that."

Samur remains silent and Slayer grows impatient as the helpless seconds tick by. He paces the wall, watching as the beast screams out in tormented defiance.

"I do have a plan of attack," Slayers gets out in a rush as his body pumps him with frenetic adrenaline. "But the sentinels all know it's just a suicide run at this point. We've all agreed and accepted it. We will flank in the morning, and hope to divert it's attention while the western parts of the city evacuate. Then--"

"Slayer."

"--we will do out best to swarm it, and herd it. It can ignore me, but it cannot ignore a coordinated strike. Pushing it towards the center of the City will crowd it, and allow people to escape to--"

"Slayer!"

The Slayer stops. He looks back at this creature, this otherworldly angel, and frowns in confusion, then worry. The maykr's face is expressionless as ever but there is a glaze to his wide eyes; wherever Samur is looking, it is nowhere in the present.

Maykrs were, in many ways, ridiculously alien compared to humans, but not even this weird stunted behavior was normal. Panic grips at the Slayer's heart and he steps forward.

"What?" Slayer asks, suddenly concerned, his fists closing, eyes darting and body sharpening as he prepares to fight. "What's wrong?"

It is a few long moments before Samur can even get close to responding. The metal of his body shines with an unseen light as his fingers twitch and his tentacles thrash from under his robes. Slayer makes a brave decision and touches the maykr, hoping to calm the creature and surprised to find his breath syncing with the maykr's own. He let's go, startled, but the contact seems to be enough to Samur to come to. He focuses on Slayer, his four eyes wide and shining.

"I know what to do." Samur's breathing continues to come fast, and suddenly his clawed hands are shakily pulling his hood back up. "I-- we-- Slayer, it can be done. I can give you what you seek."

There's a stunned silence between them. Slayer's blue eyes narrow as he looks skeptically at the maykr. Then Samur reaches out for him, a strong metallic grip on his shoulders.

"Slayer, I am -- I have seen -- please, do you trust me?"

There is a fraught energy about Samur, an individual usually so composed he could be emotional opposite to Slayer's perpetual energy and intensity. The marine searches Samur's glowing eyes, seeing the thinly veiled terror there, and remembers his earlier words: I don't have much time.

Right now, none of them did. And the clock was still ticking.

Slayer nods. "Yes. I do," he responds. "Tell me, what needs to be done?"