#anyway props to whoever did that

[staticofthetv]

Please tell me someone got a screenshot of okonogi's face in the wyvrn kaiju blast from the end of the live I need it

[justgallifreyanthings]

The new sonic screwdriver has been shown and it looks to have circular gallifreyan on it, I tried to translate it but got nothing, but I also just am not great at translating it. I figured you’d be the one to ask, can you find any actual words on Ncuti’s new sonic? Or just what are your thoughts about the new sonic :3

Hi! So as you mentioned in your other message, the sonic screwdriver is supposed to say “the sharpness of the tongue defeats the sharpness of the warriors”. However I’ve got other thoughts so I’m gonna do a bit of a vent anyway haha.

First things first, I say “supposed to” for a reason, because the phrase is missing all of the dot details that would make it legible per the Sherman’s Gallifreyan system, and it’s chock full of typos. The orientation of the words also differs, in that they’ve rotated every word slightly so the first letter is whatever’s closest to the outer edge of the screwdriver; in Sherman’s, the starting point doesn’t rotate like that.

Even accounting for the orientation change, the screwdriver currently reads “the tatpness fo the tongee befeets the tatpns fo the wat?iots”. Which….. lmfao.

So the net-net is that the BBC stole co-opted a fan’s system, and then used it wrong, even though there are literally people out there (like yours truly) who would jump at the chance to design an accurate and beautiful Gallifreyan piece for use on the show. For free even! For the sheer pleasure of adding “featured on the BBC” to my LinkedIn!

And all this because the BBC is too lazy to create their own consistent Gallifreyan system, but also too greedy to appropriately credit the artists whose work they’ve stolen for the show — artists plural! Sherman and Sirkles and who knows who else! — or to stop levying copyright strikes against other fans using Sherman’s fanmade system. When the BBC fully steals a fan’s work, it’s an easter egg, but when fans reference Doctor Who when making artwork in an unlicensed fanmade system, it’s theft of intellectual property? Make it make sense. (Spoiler: you can’t!)

I wish I could just feel overjoyed to see the fan community’s love for Doctor Who and interest in Gallifreyan incorporated into the show! In a different universe, this could be such a love letter between creator and fandom, a testament to the way that media and fandom weave together into something bigger than the sum of its parts. But in THIS universe, it just leaves a sour taste in my mouth.

[tsuy4n]

The Artist Who Lives for the Plot

Warning/s: Fem!Reader, Mild language/swearing, still chaotic, Verbal bullying disguised as flirting, petty drama, reader still very much suffering (comically), Unwilling reverse harem, Reader is done with them all (not really), fire, mentions of blood

[A/n]: I have no control over these boys. I'm just her for vibes and suffering. (cuz they don't exist huehuhe) Reader deserves hazard pay <3

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, >Part 4<, Part 5

Day 5: Part II - Silence is Sexy Now Apparently???

Whoever answered your desperate plea for peace and quiet—thank you.

Even if they were, like, three business days late and definitely filed your request under "suffering builds character."

Because this past few hours? Felt suspiciously like divine intervention.

No stage-diva boys haunting your hallway like perfume-scented cryptids.

No "Noonaaaa!" yelled with the thunderous, bass-boosted agony of a man possessed. From Baby, of all people.

You told him to stop—said you didn't want people thinking you were older than you looked, especially not with his baby face and all that skincare witchcraft he hoards like it's sacred.

The little bastard just smirked harder, like he was saying, "Are you sure?"

You haven't known peace since your second day here. Much less now.

No Romance popping out from behind the prop shelf, dramatically clutching a scarf and declaring, "I dreamt of you last night. You were strangling me. Artistically."

It was a neck pillow. You yeeted it at his head. He thanked you.

No Abby blocking the hallway mirror to flex and ask you, completely straight-faced, "Is it villain-coded if I moisturize before world domination?"

You gave him a thumbs-up and left. He later claimed you were flirting.

No Mystery silently offering you your own coffee, only to walk away after you refused—leaving you standing there with the weird guilt of rejecting a ghost’s feelings.

You drank it anyway. It was your usual. How did he know?? You're still thinking about it.

And most importantly, no random interpretive dance ambush in the pantry while you were trying to microwave rice.

Just glorious silence and the sound of your sneakers not stepping on anyone's ego.

Which is why, for once, you were enjoying your break. Rooftop breeze in your hair, sketchbook in your lap, and the rare spiritual luxury of not being absolutely done with humanity.

Seriously. Whoever was pulling strings up there? You forgive them. They were late, but they came through.

Your only concern this morning was how many folding chairs you'd be emotionally blackmailed into hauling later. That, and whether you had enough lead in your pencil to finish this page.

You hadn't seen a single suspicious silhouette or reality-shattering jawline since clocking in.

Well, okay, fine. You did run into them earlier when you're getting for break time.

Romance had cornered you in the supply room like he was filming a music video, asking if he could "pose dramatically for your art." His eyes sparkled. Yours twitched.

Abby tried flexing casually while asking about your weekend plans, then pretended to drop something so you'd "just happen" to see his back muscles.

You did. You were mildly impressed. You told him to stop weaponizing gym memberships.

And Baby?

He just strolled over without a word and dropped into the seat beside you, one leg stretched out, the other slung over his knee like he was posing for a magazine titled Ego Issues Quarterly

He didn't even look at you at first. Just leaned back, arms draped along the chair like he’d been born lounging.

Then he said, voice low and lazy, "How much for the sketchbook?"

You didn't answer. He offered gum. You still didn't answer. He threw in a paperclip shaped like a bunny.

You almost caved. And by that, you meant throw hands.

And as all this happened, you did what you always did: stayed indifferent on the outside.

But on the inside?

You were clocking every angle. Every jawline, every shadow, every stupid strand of unfair hair volume. Half of you was annoyed; the other half was already tagging their bone structures under "good reference" in your brain's internal Pinterest.

You weren't immune. Just busy.

But amidst the usual dumb banter and war for your attention, one thing stuck out: Jinu.

He didn't flirt. He didn't joke. He barely looked at you ever since you step foot in the building.

You noticed it in passing—how quiet he was. A little more serious than usual. Like something had lodged itself in his brain and refused to vacate the premises. Definitely not just brooding-for-aesthetic. Actual thoughts.

Suspicious.

And maybe it was your artist brain short-circuiting from too many Pinterest boards, but the tension in his shoulders? The way his jaw kept ticking like it was chewing on unfinished dialogue?

Yeah. If he were a drawing, you'd label him "Haunted by Plot Twist, page 37."

You should've been concerned. You really should've.

But nah. Not your business. You had background extras to sketch, rent to pay, and three missing pen nibs to mourn.

Which brings us back to now.

You were so blissfully content, maybe even giggled to yourself once or twice like a tiny menace in a hoodie, that you didn't notice the bench shift beside you.

You blinked, mid-sketch, and looked up.

Oh. It was him. Mystery.

You paused. Blinked again. Yeah, not a hallucination.

Sometimes, he freaked you out a little. Not in the horror-movie way. Just... he was so quiet. Too quiet. Like his stage name wasn't just branding but a literal warning.

Mystery had a habit of showing up without sound, appearing like a cursed Pokémon spawn next to you, behind you, in your personal bubble.

Still, all things considered? He was the least annoying of the lot. Not to mention, you did admit to yourself you found him cute.

He didn't throw flirty one-liners at you like he was auditioning for the role of 'sexy second lead,' and he hadn't tried to yoink your sketchbook like it was the last horcrux. That earned him points.

So you let him sit. Whatever. It was a big rooftop.

You returned to your sketching, lazily doodling the closest prop in sight.

You had, like, five minutes left of freedom before someone inevitably called you to haul folding chairs, fix someone's wig, or hand-sew a button back onto a backup jacket.

You sighed just thinking about it. And then you felt it, the weight against your side.

You froze. Your eyes slid sideways.

Mystery had leaned in. Not dramatically, not like a collapsing tree, just... rested his shoulder against yours. Hair over his face as always, head dipped slightly.

You squinted at him.

Then, as if he might leap into action at any second, you closed your sketchbook. Slowly. Suspiciously. (Always be cautious!)

He didn't move.

"...Are you not feeling well?" You asked.

Mystery shook his head. Barely. Just enough for you to notice. Still, he didn't say anything else.

You glanced around like you were in a spy thriller. Was this a distraction? Were the others planning an ambush while he played decoy? You wouldn't put it past them.

You were starting to suspect you'd become their favorite form of enrichment. Like a stress ball. Or an emotional support disaster muppet.

But nothing. The rooftop stayed quiet. No one popped out with dramatic finger hearts or badly disguised attempts at small talk.

Maybe... maybe they were actually busy. Maybe someone finally got them to rehearse so hard they collapsed on the floor.

But this dude still had the energy to climb all the way up here? Then never mind.

You just hoped they stayed busy. That Mystery showing up here was his own decision not something cooked up by Jinu, mister I-have-a-switch, or the rest of his chaos committee.

You turned back toward Mystery, trying to play it cool.

Not to be weird or anything, but his cologne smelled... nice. Soft. Like citrus and something expensive. It didn't attack your nose like some of the cologne samples you once tried at the mall that nearly caused a coma.

His hair looked soft, too. A little fluffy. It reminded you of one of your grandparents' pets which was the sleepy little dog they had. It used to curl up beside you and doze off while you drew.

Was that what Mystery was doing? Were you warmth? A heating pad?

...Was he asleep?

You squinted again. No answer. You huffed and picked up your pencil. If you couldn't figure him out, you might as well draw through it.

Doodles. Hands. Some profile from memory. A chaotic blob that could become something. Anything to keep your hands busy and your eyes off the mystery boy literally named Mystery.

You didn't notice the small smile tugging at his lips.

A few minutes later, your phone buzzed. Break was over.

You stared down at the screen like it had betrayed you. Back to the world. Back to chaos. Back to sanity erosion.

But for now, for just a moment longer, you stayed seated. And beside you, Mystery didn't move either

Without speaking, or even needing to tell him to sit up, you saw Mystery already shifting, straightening just slightly as if he'd read your mind.

Okay...that's nice. Creepy. But nice.

You stood with a quiet sigh, brushing off your hoodie like it had personally offended you, sketchbook tucked under your arm like a child you were protecting from the world's sins.

"Later." You bid him casually with a little nod.

Mystery didn't answer. He rarely did. Sometimes he talked. Sometimes he didn't. You were starting to think he had a secret dice roll for social interaction.

And you didn't expect him to still be watching.

Didn't expect him to stay exactly where you left him, still leaning slightly, still barely moving, like one of those statues in horror games that only move when you look away.

For some reason, even with all that hair obscuring half his face, you imagined his eyes trailing after you like a dog watching its human leave for work. All soulful gaze and tragic resignation.

Like if you turned around, he might paw at the air and whine.

But you didn't linger, just pushed the rooftop door open then stopped. You blinked—because there, in the corner of your vision, saw a flash of pink. Not pastel. Not sky. Something unnatural.

A glitch or something. A smoke trail. Like someone mid-teleport in a fantasy game with their settings on 'extra dramatic.'

You stared one half-second longer than any sane person would, nodded like "cool, love that for us," and walked off. You had chairs to carry. Wigs to adjust. A paycheck to clutch like a rosary.

Let someone else deal with the possible interdimensional chaos cloud.

Behind you, Mystery finally sat up straight. His eyes never left the spot where you'd vanished through the door.

And that's when the others appeared with a flash of pink.

"Yo." Abby's voice cut through the rooftop air like a slap. He looked at Mystery, brow twitching. "Was that... you leaning on her? Or are the stage lights finally frying my retinas?"

Romance turned, jaw already dropped. "She let you sit next to her?" Then as if he came upon a realization, he added, "I mean— you got contact?"

He blinked, stunned. No way. You always swatted them off with a scowl. You pulled away like they were leaking radioactivity anytime they got too close.

But now Mystery got a seat? A whole moment?

What the hell.

The said person—demon didn't answer. He didn't have to. The silence was louder than anything he could've said.

Baby scoffed, arms folded tight. "Did you at least look at what she was doing?"

He told himself it was about the sketchbook. About the mission, but it wasn't. Not really.

No reply.

Romance tilted his head, his tone laced with mockery. "What—did you fall for that human or something?"

"A possible enemy." Abby muttered with syrupy venom. "Aww. That's adorable. What next? Gonna write her name in your demon diary?"

"Or give her your soul in a glittery envelope?" Baby flatly said with squinted eyes. "Just say you're in love with the enemy already."

He hadn't meant for it to land like that. Not really. But Mystery's hand twitched at his side, still silent.

Baby glanced away first with a little scoff.

"Maybe that's his plan now." Jinu's voice cut in, low and clipped. "Stay quiet. Earn her trust. Let her think he's harmless, just some weird, hoodie-wearing loner. Then when her guard's down, she gives him the sketchbook... or shows him what's inside."

His arms crossed tighter. "Wouldn't have to ask. Wouldn't have to flirt. Just sit there and wait until she spills like he's special."

Jinu paused for a brief second.

"Smart." He added. But it didn't sound like a compliment. More like a warning. Or maybe a grudge dressed up as logic.

They all turned to Mystery. He stared back—calm, and unreadable, like none of their noise registered. Not compared to whatever was playing in his head.

He blinked once then spoke, quiet enough to be lost in the wind. "She moves when I look. I don't want her to move."

It landed like a spell. Sudden. Off-key. Too soft to handle.

For a second, no one spoke.

Abby froze. No blink. No quip. Just stared like his system had crashed mid-update.

Romance let out a breath, hand on his chest like he'd been hit. No teasing now, just narrowed eyes and something twisted in his gut.

"That line had flavor." He muttered. "Did it taste like yearning?"

He tried to laugh, but it fell flat. Because he remembered your expression—your bored scowl, your insult about glitter, the way you spun that foam trident like you'd trained for it.

He was supposed to be the charming one. The safe bet. But you hadn't even twitched.

He'll probably start genuinely sulking, and that would just be humiliating.

Now Mystery, who barely talks, gets to sit next to you? Yeah. That stung. (Bruised something which certainly wasn't just his ego).

Baby blinked, disbelief cracking through his usual smirk. He expected poetry from Romance. Absurdity from Abby. But Mystery?

"That was a rom-com lead moment." Baby narrowed his eyes. "I'm gonna be sick." Then, under his breath, "Mystery spoke and now the universe tilts."

He turned to Jinu, petty and itching. "Better switch up your shampoo, golden boy. Whatever you're using clearly stopped working."

It was a cheap shot. He didn't care. The feelings stirring in his chest weren't clean—so he'd call it strategy. Frustration. Anything but jealousy.

None of them had gotten that far.

Not Abby's showboating. Not Romance's smooth talk. Not Jinu's sudden fake kindness. Not even him with his cuteness.

And Mystery? Said one line and got further than any of them.

Unacceptable.

Abby huffed beside him, arms crossed in mirror defense. No words. Just a silent, sulky pout that made his fitted shirt feel too tight all of a sudden.

Jinu didn't react, he didn't flinch. Just stood still, jaw tight. Eyes unreadable. But inside? Yeah. He felt the burn.

He was the first. The one who let you in. Let you photograph them, bark orders, roll your eyes without consequence. You didn't swoon. Didn't care. Just worked.

He'd called it strategy. Keep you close. Watch you. (They know where you live).

But somewhere between your eye rolls and offhand insults, something else had crept in. Something not in the plan. Not strategy.

Now, seeing you sit still for Mystery—letting him close?

Jinu exhaled through his nose, soft and low.

"Hopeless." He muttered, gaze distant. He didn't know if he meant Mystery, who was clearly done playing spy, or himself, for ever thinking he could separate observation from obsession.

He exhaled through his nose. "Scratch him off. He’s not getting that sketchbook."

"Good." Baby said, a little too fast. His voice cut through the air, crisp and cool. "Less mouths. Maybe I'll actually get close enough next time without being called a stray cat."

Romance grinned, the mischief in his eyes impossible to miss. "You're still upset she called you a stray, huh? What was it? Something about turf wars with raccoons behind a 7-Eleven?"

Baby's scowl deepened like he was reliving it in real-time. He turned to Romance with a glare sharp enough to draw blood. "She called you glitter vomit, Romance." He snapped. "So unless you wanna be part of the clean-up crew, shut it."

Romance's grin twitched. Just slightly. Like it was painted on, cracking at the edges.

"At least I sparkle when I'm insulted." He said through clenched teeth, voice still sugarcoated but sharp. "You hiss and knock over boxes like a third-tier saja who got rejected from charm school. I'd say it's embarrassing, but you made it an art."

Baby didn't blink. "Yeah?" He said, voice low. "Keep talking, sparkle guts. Maybe she'll pity you enough to sweep you off the floor."

They stared at each other, tension crackling, the air thick with the kind of petty animosity that only two beautiful people with bruised egos could manage.

Abby chuckled, but there was no heat behind it. He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly ignoring the demon catfight behind him. "Still... maybe I should try the quiet and tragic approach. Think that's her type?"

Baby and Romance turned to look at him, their showdown paused—forgotten, maybe.

"Oh sure." Baby rolled his eyes. "Let me just uninstall my entire personality and start brooding in a corner."

"Maybe it'd work." Romance said, quieter now. His gaze flicked toward Mystery, then back to where you'd been. "She looked at him like he wasn't annoying unlike the rest of us."

Jinu watched his members bicker and spiral into their own egos like it was a full-time job.

Baby and Romance were still glaring at each other like petty rivals in a perfume ad. Abby looked like he was preparing for a tragic boyband concept era.

And Mystery? Mystery was just... staring into space like he was composing poetry in Morse code.

It was exhausting.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "How do you all function." he muttered under his breath.

Considering he was the one who put this group together, Jinu really did understand what he was putting you through.

The difference was you didn't show it.

You just rolled your eyes, insulted their hair, dropped art references they barely understood, and carried on like they weren't literal demons sent to take your souls.

His fingers tapped rhythmically against his arm. Fine. No more improvisation. No more solo disasters that ended in sulking, musical tantrums, or poetic self-sabotage.

And Jinu? He didn't look up. Just stared at the rooftop floor like it might cough up the answer. Like maybe if he glared long enough, the plan would fix itself.

This was getting out of hand.

When Jinu spoke, his voice was cold, clipped, but beneath that chill was something else. Tight and controlled, like if he let it slip even a little, the wrong truth might come out.

"Nothing changes." He turns around. "We get that sketchbook."

His eyes didn't waver. Focused and empty all at once, like he was looking straight through the moment—past them, past the plan, past himself.

The others turned, expression unreadable.

"Today." He added, this time sharper. "Settle it once and for all. No more delays. No more distractions."

Then, noticing a few people nearby, other interns passing through, a couple of techies on break, Jinu didn’t say anything else. He just walked off, quiet and brisk, the echo of his footsteps trailing behind like punctuation.

The silence he left was sharp.

Abby exhaled first. "It's just curiosity." He muttered, too fast—like it was supposed to explain everything. "She's weird. All that slang. Anime and internet soup or whatever."

"Yeah." Baby agreed, more casual but still frowning. "Seriously. What kind of human’s that unaffected? Even with my absolute cuteness."

Romance didn't say anything else. He just sighed. There he goes again with his face. (Says the guy who also admires himself in the mirror).

No one said what they were really thinking, and that made the silence stretch. No one moved or agreed to what Jinu said even if he was long gone.

But no one argued either.

And maybe that was answer enough.

-

You didn't notice the rooftop stares.

You were halfway across the lot now, a cardboard box in your arms and a pen behind your ear, chatting with one of the stage techs as you both walked.

Something about costume returns. Or lost props. Or a mannequin that got decapitated again. The usual.

The sun was high. Your feet ached. Your back was one bend away from cracking like bubble wrap.

But you still considered this peace. You could almost believe it was permanent but the last you believed that, they appear—

Your coworker flinched and hissed, "Kkamjjagiya!" (you surprised me) like they'd just seen a ghost.

You didn't have to turn around to know what caused it. The air got ten percent warmer and one hundred percent more unbearable.

Of course. Of course they were back after a few hours.

The Saja Boys stepped in one by one, doing That Thing™ they did. The posture shift. The twinkle in the eyes. The half-smiles like they knew they were dreams personified.

Romance was first, holding a clipboard like it was a bouquet. "Need a hand, sweetheart? Or two? Maybe three?"

You glared. He winked. Then his stupid ass tripped, but you could tell it was on purpose, obviously, because he fell right toward your sketchbook.

His fingers just grazed the cover before you slammed your clipboard down on his wrist.

"Ow." He said with a small hiss, rubbing his arm before flashing a grin like he''d been personally blessed by the pain. "Still feisty... and I still very much like it."

You looked at him like you had just judged his entire bloodline, and found all of them guilty.

"You're about to like ice packs too."

Romance chuckled, unfazed. "I accept my fate. But just so you know, bruises make great conversation starters."

He winked. "Want me to autograph the one you're about to give me?"

You blinked once. Then blinked again.

Then, very slowly, you lifted your sketchbook like you were contemplating smacking him with it, not out of rage, but sheer exhausted disbelief.

"...You want a pen to sign your medical bill too?"

Romance grinned wider. "Only if you draw on it first."

You groaned, already regretting every life decision that led you here.

Baby was next.

This gives you déjà vu from last night.

He popped up beside you like a clingy phantom and held up a crayon drawing of you riding a dragon, trying to use that face of his to his advantage, again.

"Fan art." He announced, grinning like he was unveiling a masterpiece. "From me. Artist to artist. Let's swap. Yours for mine?"

You blinked, brow rising. They're coming at you again, specifically your sketchbook.

"Did you just draw me stabbing Jinu?" You asked, trying your absolute best to keep your face blank because if you cracked now, even a twitch, you knew you'd never hear the end of it.

He'd say his drawing got you. That he got you.

Baby leaned in, clearly fishing for proof. "Maybe." He said, grinning like a devil. "But you're not denying it's good."

You held his gaze, lips twitching—just once.

Unfortunately for you, he saw it. And he lit up like a kid who'd just been handed a trophy for 'Most Annoying and Proud.'

"Aww, was that a smile?" He cooed, smugness practically oozing as he tilted his head. "It was. Don't lie."

You frowned, still holding the crayon drawing like it personally offended your degree. "No, it wasn't."

"Sure it was." He leaned in like he was about to stage whisper a secret. "Mystery said you smiled too. Now I got one. We're tied. Kinda makes us rivals, don't you think?"

You raised a brow again then stared at him flatly. "I'm getting security."

"You're getting sentimental." He shot back, still grinning. Then, quieter, just for extra effect: "Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me, Sunshine."

You stopped mid-step then slowly turned, and stared at him like he'd just kicked a puppy and asked for applause.

Baby only beamed brighter, hands in his pockets like he hadn't just committed a social felony. Like he was proud of it.

He rocked back on his heels, smug as hell. "See? That face. You like me."

Haha. You wanna throw a chair at him.

Next was Abby.

He was already halfway through picking up a fallen roll of duct tape, like he'd just happened to be nearby and oh-so-conveniently useful.

His posture was casual, like this was a normal day and not a full-blown five-man flirt ambush.

He straightened, smiled, and held out the tape like an offering.

"You look stressed, babe." He said smoothly. "I can carry the box. And the sketchbook. And you, if needed."

You stared at him, deadpan. "You can carry yourself to the other side of the room."

He grinned. Unbothered. Then, because he was Abby, flexed just a bit like the room was his gym and the moment demanded it.

You blinked. "Was that necessary?"

"Everything I do is necessary." He said it like a motto. Like his muscles were a public service.

You opened your mouth, then shut it again.

Then, finally, inevitably, you smiled. Not a happy smile. Not even close. It was that exhausted, resigned, "Of course you said that" kind of smile. The kind you give your group project partner right before they say, "Trust me."

You don't bother to waste your energy on pushing him away. "...Help me tape the costume rack, you walking protein shake."

He beamed. "Gladly. Want me to flex while I do it?"

Your smile stayed, brittle and doomed. You didn't answer. Just turned away and sighed like someone whose will to resist was slowly being bench-pressed out of existence.

He still followed, tape in hand and biceps fully committed to the bit.

Jinu, who was leaning against the nearest wall with his arms crossed, watched it all unfold like a smug director of a very stupid play.

He didn't speak at first. Just stood there, all moody elegance and judgment, like he hadn’t tripped over a stack of crates last night and almost died from it. (yeah, you're exaggerating)

Huh. So mister switch-flip was back to his usual self—the smug, mildly infuriating version— if he was here now, watching you like he hadn't spent the last few hours pretending you didn't exist.

Maybe he got over whatever brooding anime arc he was stuck in. Or maybe his pride finally regenerated enough to rejoin the land of the socially functioning.

Either way, great. The cryptid council was back at full force.

"You know," Jinu poke, voice casual but eyes sharp, "for someone who draws so much, you never show anyone what you're proud of. Makes you look like you're hiding something."

You raised a brow. "I am. My patience."

A corner of his mouth twitched. Not quite a laugh. Nor quite a challenge. "Maybe you're just shy. Or maybe it's something else."

"Gaslighting won't get you what you want, Jinu."

He took another step, a smirk pulling at his lips. "You sure?"

You blinked at him, unimpressed. "I've met tax collectors with more charm."

That made him laugh. It wasn't loud, but real. "So you admit I've got some charm."

You tilt your head slightly and looked at him dead in the eye. "Barely."

For some reason, you found him extra irritating today. Not because he'd gone distant. Not because his silence had bothered you more than it should have. He was just... irritating. That was all.

Totally unrelated to how he acted this morning.

With that, the standoff lingered like static in the air.

And somewhere behind you, Abby muttered under his breath, "...Why is this kinda hot?"

Baby immediately turned to glare at him. "You're not helping."

It had been fifteen minutes since you last saw those try-hards. Five full minutes of blessed silence. No flirtatious quips. No ambushes. No bizarre "fan art trades."

But the peace only made you more suspicious.

What was with them today? They weren't just being annoying, they were focused. Like there was a mission. Like they were actually determined to get a look inside your sketchbook.

What suddenly lit a fire under all of them?

And then, without warning—

Mystery was there.

Not in a flashy poof of smoke or with a dramatic line. Just... there. Sitting silently at your usual corner, already pulling a chair out beside him like he expected you to follow.

You paused, internally finding that action adorable.

Of course, Mystery didn't speak. He never started the conversation. He just hovered—close, unnervingly so, and waited like your orbit naturally included him.

Still, when you sat to sort through prop lists, he followed suit. Close enough that you could feel his presence, but far enough that it might be called respectful. Technically.

"You're not subtle." You muttered without looking up, pen scratching against paper like it was your only lifeline to sanity.

Mystery tilted his head in response. Just a fraction. Enough to acknowledge, but not enough to explain.

You sighed, flipping the page in your folder with just a little more aggression than necessary.

"Don't try to out-quiet me." You warned, eyes still fixed on your checklist. "It won't work. I invented deadpan silence. I thrive in it."

He didn't blink or moved, just continued to exist there: quiet, patient, unsettlingly still. Like a ghost who had no intention of leaving.

Like he'd wait all day if he had to.

You hummed lightly then turned your head slightly. You opened your sketchbook just a crack, just to glance at a reference. And like clockwork. there it was. A hand.

Creeping from the edge of your vision like a crab.

"Back off." You said without missing a beat, slapping the sketchbook shut.

"Rude." Baby muttered from behind a nearby column. "I was gentle that time."

You raised your eyes. Across the room—yes, they were all there. Sigh.

Romance, leaned against a mirror like he was waiting for a slow-mo spin. Abby pretending to fix a light fixture, flexing subtly. Jinu at the back, arms crossed, a smirk playing at his mouth like he was enjoying a live telenovela.

Losers. Every last one of them.

Mystery, on the other hand, didn't flinch. Just leaned in a little more. Like the rest of the chaos didn't exist. Like he was the only one in the room who understood that silence could be a kind of closeness too.

You side-eyed him. "You do realize they're all watching, right?"

Mystery, being him, didn't say anything at first.

Then, without moving his head, he said—quietly, just enough for you to hear, "Let them."

. . .

You coughed. Violently.

Not because you were choking. But because—what the hell was that?

Who gave him permission to drop a line like that? Soft, unwavering, lowkey romantic like he'd just stepped out of one of those late-night dramas you pretended not to watch but absolutely binged at 2 a.m.

You stared harder at your checklist like it was responsible for your sudden internal meltdown. No. Nope. You were not affected.

You were perfectly normal. Mentally stable. Immune to cryptic, poetic boys with sleepy voices and stupidly good hair.

You coughed again just to be safe. And to smother the tiny part of your brain that was currently kicking its feet and giggling like a schoolgirl.

It wasn't like the others' lines, the ones that almost worked or just made you cringe. This one hit different. Probably because you didn't expect it from him.

From across the room, several heads snapped in sync.

"???"

"Is she choking on air or dying?" Abby asked, eyebrows raised and genuinely confused.

"Wait—hold on. That was flirting, wasn't it?" Baby said, scowling. "Oh, so he gets bonus points for whispering cryptic nonsense, but when I bring bunny-shaped paperclips, I'm 'too much'? Unreal."

"She coughed like she just got hit with a K-drama line." Romance muttered, stunned. "What the hell did he say?"

Baby and Abby exchanged a look before shrugging.

Then Romance placed a hand over his chest, as if physically struck, and took a staggered breath. "Wait—no. Don't tell me. I'll spiral."

Then, snapping back with a bitter edge: "What, did he whisper poetry? A tragic backstory? I swear, if it worked—" He narrowed his eyes. "I'm deleting my entire personality."

Jinu gave Romance a long, unimpressed look. Then shook his head once—slow, like even he couldn't believe this was the conversation happening.

Without another word, he turned his gaze back to where you and Mystery sat, eyes narrowing like squinting hard enough might reveal the secrets of the universe.

Or at least, whatever the hell Mystery just whispered that made you cough like a lovesick drama lead.

His jaw ticked and his expression didn't change. But damn, was he staring hard.

"Whatever he said, I could've said it better—with more charisma and less blinking." Abby muttered, then added with a scoff, "If dead silence and vague stares are the new sexy, I've clearly been overperforming."

Romance folded his arms, bitter. "Don't. You'd combust."

Jinu said nothing. Still leaning against the wall like he had been for the past ten minutes, but now his eyes were colder.

Something in him ticked, like he was deciding whether to be impressed... or set someone on fire.

Then Mystery moved again, barely. His hand hovered near your sketchbook, one finger tapping the corner. Not taking. Just gesturing.

You glanced at him then sighed. You hand him a blank sticky note from your stack. It was a cute design.

He took it. Carefully. A tiny twitch of amusement crossed his face like a breeze over water—barely there, but real.

Baby watched, his eyes wide for a second then blank next. "She gave him stationery. That's it. I'm buying glitter pens."

"She gives him the cute stuff. I break my back carrying things and all I get is scoliosis." Abby deadpanned.

Romance groaned, covering his face. "This is it. This is my villain origin story. I'm dyeing my hair black and starting a solo."

Jinu still didn't speak. But when he did, his voice was sharp, low, and precise, like the clean pull of a trigger. No room for argument. No room for delay.

"We're getting that sketchbook. By sundown."

Bold words from Jinu. The kind you'd expect to trigger some epic music or a final boss cutscene.

Instead, the rest of the day passed in a blur of nonsense.

You dodged at least seven ambushes, blocked two fake "accidental" trips (looking at Baby), and barely survived a very dramatic confession from Romance that involved a bouquet made out of receipt paper.

Mystery just kept appearing at your side like a ghost with feelings. Abby tried to carry you again.

You were too tired to keep fighting them off. Too drained to question whatever demon pact they'd clearly made to break you down.

By the time you finally locked your sketchbook in your bag and dragged yourself home, your body was aching, your patience was threadbare, and your suspicion was officially at Defcon 1.

Something was off. You could feel it.

You didn't remember falling asleep, just the weight of exhaustion and the quiet hum of your apartment floor. It was normally peaceful here.

You even liked your neighbors. The college student who always microwaved noodles at 2AM, the elderly couple across the hall, the quiet guy with too many plants.

So when the screaming started, it didn't register at first.

The scream came again, sharper this time. Closer. Then the crack of glass. A choking smell. Smoke curling under your door.

You were on your feet in seconds.

The air had already changed, thick and sharp. Your eyes burned before you even opened the closet. You didn't remember moving, just grabbing your bag, your sketchbook, your phone—

You hissed as your hand hit the doorknob.

"...Fuck."

The door wouldn't budge.

The metal handle scorched your palm, and you jerked back with a hiss. Too hot. Too sealed. The smoke was rising fast now—choking, thick, clawing at your lungs like it had teeth.

You stumbled back, coughing hard, vision blurred as the room twisted in heat. You turned to grab your bag, the one thing you had to save, and as you slung it over your shoulder, your arm grazed the corner of the overturned desk.

A flash of pain. Sharp. You looked down and saw the crimson line blooming across your forearm, thin but angry, already staining the sleeve of your shirt. Glass, maybe. Or metal. You didn't know.

Your heart was a drumbeat in your ears. Loud. Wild.

You pressed your good hand over the cut, staggering toward the window. But the smoke was thicker now, a suffocating wall of grey, and each breath clawed deeper than the last.

Your knees buckled.

Just as your vision began to flicker, there was a sound—a crack like thunder and the crash of splintering wood. The door burst open.

Smoke billowed out into the hallway like a living thing, and through it stepped a figure—tall, fast, steady.

Your body didn't register the face. It didn't need to.

Because all you saw was the golden glow of his eyes. They were unmoving. Fierce. Anchored.

...Like sunlight piercing the storm.

You tried to say something, his name? A joke? anything, but your throat burned, and the room tilted sideways. The last thing you felt was the warmth of strong arms catching you.

And then darkness, but it wasn't lonely.

Because before the light slipped away completely, you remembered one thing: That beautiful, impossible glow. Golden. Bright.

And safe.

[blankerthought]

i have to say i LOVED the next to normal set and props and i wanted to highlight specifically a couple things

the set is exactly the vibe a house two architects built to live in would have. source: my dad's an architect. i may or may not have once had several things in my house look like the set at one point

there's a background print/artwork that's presumably concept sketches for a work one of them did (maybe both?) and i genuinely was already like these bitches have an architect here before they even said it

shoutout to the placement of that little car toy on the blood. that slapped

FURTHERMORE, i know for a damn fact it took Testing to see what fabric would show the bloodstain most dramatically with the towels, so shoutout to whoever had to do that testing. the drama of the cleaning up was incredible and it was definitely adding to it

rip to that music box i cannot imagine how many they go through

also the pill tray. that whole song i was very delighted to see it going around

anyway. watch next to normal except don't if you like not suffering

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

older brother touya au, endeavor is still an asshole, shouto interacts w his siblings lol, bby shouto, hyper active kinda rough reader (you tackle shouto), shouto and touya have an unspecified age gap but i was thinkin like 10 years (so touya is 17 and shou is 7), just a liiiil bit angsty but mostly fluffy, lemme know if i missed sum else !

touya knows his little brother shouto is kinda weird.

he rarely ever sees him happy, or with any sort of emotion on his face for that matter. he has little habits that he hates not being able to follow and he's incredibly nit picky about them. he doesn't outwardly emote but that doesn't mean he couldn't be bratty when he wanted to be, cus he is but that's also about super specific weird stuff like what he wants to have for dinner (which always ends up being cold soba anyways).

he's also not much of a talker. he's a little shy, but he also just doesn't like talking. it's impossible to miss the huge red scar around his eye, he doesn't like to play outside and roughhouse like touya did when he was his age and he still doesn't have any friends at school. shouto never seemed to be bothered by it, though touya assumes that his peers might find him weird too.

except they better not, because touya's the only one who can call his brother weird. and deep down, he worries a little for him.

until he comes back home from school, his sweater is tucked out and there's a dirt stain on it. his hair is messy and his backpack is haphazardly closed, his little notebooks propped inside and his pencil case threatening to fall out.

natsuo, the one charged to pick him up that day, sheepishly scratches at his neck "he won't tell me what happened to him." he explains as touya practically charges towards shouto, he doesn't look hurt, so his older brother roughly turns him around to check his bag.

" but i told you what happened, natsu-nii."

"you don't have to lie, shouto--"

"what happened to you ?" touya cuts in, looking inside his brothers bag to check if nothing was missing, it looks intact from what he can tell.

"i played with my friend." shouto says simply, like that explains why he looked like he'd just walked through a hurricane. touya already knows he's gonna get an earful about this from his father. he inwardly groans.

"you sure your friend didn't just mug you ?" he flips his brother around and shouto's little arms flail as he does, unbothered by his brother's rough treatment. he tilts his head, touya sighs.

"bully you, i mean."

shouto's eyes widen, then he hurriedly shakes his head, denying him ever getting bullied and simply claiming he was playing. touya shares a look with natsuo, who looks just as unconvinced as him at his brothers words.

"who's this friend of yours, shou ?"

"yn."

"yn ?" both brothers say at the same time. shouto nods and touya catches a small little glint in his eyes as he looks back at him "she's really nice."

"this doesn't seem nice. you look like you got robbed." touya furrows his brows, sneering at his brothers dirty shirt. he starts dragging the youngest toward the bathroom. hopefully he'd be fully clean before their father got home and he wouldn't have to get in trouble. for god knows what reason. enji todoroki would probably find a way to place the blame on him, something about how he should've been the one to pick him up or gotten there earlier he guesses.

"yn likes to play games where you move around a lot." is what he offers as explanation. touya hums absentmindedly as he ushers his brother into the bathroom, deciding on how he should deal with his youngest brother's first ever bully. because of the age gap he doubts the kid is any smaller than his brother is, so he thinks he'll probably just try to scare off whoever this yn is.

"how 'bout i pick you up from school tomorrow and i can meet yn. that sound good ?" and shouto excitedly nods at the idea, gushing about how funny and nice you are and that you share your snacks with him. it's weird how fondly he talks about his bully, but touya knows his brother's always been a little weird, he probably has no idea what's happening to him. the thought makes him frown just a bit harder.

the next day after school, touya is already at the gates before they've even opened ready to scare the pants off of his brothers harasser. he sees shouto walking out of the gates with a few other kids, alone. the little boy perks up once he sees him and sends him a high wave, which touya returns with one of his own lazier one's.

"where's your friend ?" he tries his best not the spit the word too venomously, shouto doesn't seem to notice.

"yn is coming. her bag isn't closing well, so she told me to go ahead without her." he explains, reaching for his brother's hand absentmindedly.

touya is about to respond when he hears yelling. yelling that gets closer and closer to them until he notices too late that a little person is rushing towards his brother. before he can pull him out of the way the person has jumped onto shouto and knocked the both of them onto the ground. and touya watches flabbergasted as his younger brother does not look surprised at all, like shit like this just happened every tuesday. his mouth falls open when the little girl that had charged into his brother excitedly starts hopping slightly on top of him.

"shouto !"

"hi, yn."

touya is going to fucking lose his mind.

you get closer to shouto's face still sitting on him, touya assumes to make sure he could hear you even thought he doubts he couldn't before. " i thought ya left without me, i couldn't see you !"

shouto shakes his head, still on the floor "i said i would wait for you." he says seriously. and you practically beam, nudging your cheek to his and rubbing it against his affectionately. shouto doesn't seem fazed by it, but he definitely doesn't seem angry.

you don't seem like a bully, at least.

you finally realise you're not alone, looking up at touya strangely "who're you ?" you ask bluntly. shouto responds before he could. "touya- nii's my older brother, he's the one i wanted to show you."

you don't seem like a bully, especially not when you immediately turn to shouto the moment he opens his mouth, holding onto every word you hear. your eyes widen looking between touya and him, "that's your brother ?!" shouto nods proudly. you finally get off of him allowing shouto to get up too.

"coool !" you exclaim, but then you quickly turn towards shouto " but you're cooler, shouto !" shouto's eyes widen, before he almost bashfully looks away, claiming that his touya-nii is was way cooler than him. touya has never seen his brother this expressive before. it might not be much for others, and if he were anybody else he'd think so too. but even the fact his brows raise when you speak and he actually engages in conversation with you, as short as he keeps it, is surprising.

but from that small interaction, he can assume that you're not a bully. and he understands why his brother looked like he got jumped yesterday.

you're so much more different then him though, it's weird. you're hyper and giggly and chatty. you jump around and you can't seem to pull yourself away from shouto, who really doesn't seem unhappy although you're a bit rough about it. it’s like you’re glued to him.

shouto who barely even talks to his family talks to easily with you, even though you start the conversation all the time. shouto who only ever eats cold soba gleams at your promise to bring more snacks to share with him, like you apparently do every day. and shouto who touya barely ever sees emote, smiles when you tell him something funny. he can't tell wether his little brother smiles because he actually finds what you said funny or because you do. but whatever it is, it's making him happy.

touya is so shocked simply staring at his brother interact with another human being that he fails to use the little 'leave my brother alone if you know what's good for you.' speech he'd practiced the night before and suddenly you have to go. waving at him and shouto (not before hugging him with all your might first), who sadly waves back as he watches you leave. though he cheers up just a bit when with a last wave you tell him that you'll see him tomorrow.

touya, despite not having said a word feels incredibly tired, so he starts pulling his brother along home with him.

"so..that was your friend."

shouto nods "yn." he says.

"yn." touya parrots, eyes drifting from his brother to the road ahead of him. "she's kinda weird, huh ?"

at that, shouto's eyebrows furrow hard and he furiously shakes his head, tugging at his brother’s hand "no. she's nice." he corrects adamantly. touya stares at his brother, before looking away again "right.." he sighs "well, she seems to like you a lot."

his little brother nods again, a faint smile forms on his face "cus the people in class are mean to her. cus she's new and they say she's weird, but i don't think she is." he rambles, he actually rambles, touya blinks. he doesn't think he's ever been more surprised than he's been today. "yeah ?" is all he utters.

"yeah. people think i'm weird too, but yn says she thinks i'm cool." touya's eyes soften at his brothers words. he raises his arm up so his little brother is slightly lifted in the air. "course you're cool, you're my little brother." smiling softly to himself when shouto giggles.

touya knows that his little brother is weird, but he doesn't have to be worried anymore. cus it seems you like him, that you think he's cool and that you're weird too, in your own way. shouto keeps coming back home with dirty clothes and messy hair after that, but with happy and satisfied eyes and little candies he shares with his siblings that he made them promise to keep a secret. and he thinks his little brother will be fine, as weird as he is.

[thyunny]

''are you wearing pants?,, - soobin

a/n: omg. i was laying in bed tryna sleep when i thought of this title and fic. i was proud of myself it’s kinda embarrassing lmao. i wrote this at 2am >~< this is also my first ever fanfic!! enjoy and show some love<3

word count: 2.0k

warnings: [smut! mdni! 18+] bigdick!soobin, lowkeyperv!soobin, fem!reader, lower cased, dirty talk, soobin is uncircumcised, pubic hair on soobin, praise/degrading from reader, breeding kink (soobin), size kink (soobin), masturbation from both, not proof read, soobin’s just a simp and can’t wait :3

today was the fifth day that soobin had been gone. he’s with the rest of txt as they were in america performing for u.s. moas. you’ve missed him and craved his delicate touch; his warm, clammy hands, slender fingers touching your body wherever he wanted. but you both made a promise–not to touch yourselves until soobin got back. the both of you came upon an agreement that whoever loses gets to be punished and humiliated by the other. you’ve been keeping that promise, so tempted to reach down your panties as that certain sensation stirs in your stomach every time soobin sends you a selfie of him after the show, all hot and sweaty. you know he’s teasing you, trying to push you to the edge. yet, you still stand your ground.

after the concert was over for the night, soobin and the boys went to their respective hotel rooms with everyone having their own. soobin would take this as an advantage to call you so the boys can’t tease him about you. you were perfect–too pretty and perfect–from your curves to the tip of your nose and to your feet. deep down, soobin felt very fortunate to have you.

soobin was excited to finally talk to you. even though it’s only been a day, he still misses you and your touch immensely. after he took a shower and changed into his pajamas, he leaped onto his bed with his phone in hand, tapping the call symbol next to your contact. it didn’t take long for you to pick up.

to soobin’s delight, you were laying on your stomach on the floor and seemingly doodling in a notebook as you kicked your feet back and forth with your phone propped up against one of the four legs of your bed. he grinned widely, lifting his hand up and waving at you through the screen.

“hi, y/n. you look adorable, baby,” he cooed, staring at your relaxed figure, not at all trying to hide his unfathomable interest in you.

“i know. i tried to put myself together,” you beamed back at him, puckering your lips at him. “i miss you, soob.”

“i miss you, too, silly,” soobin chuckled, his phone’s camera angled up perfectly to show his meritorious face and have a bit of his plain white t-shirt in frame.

awkward silence set in for a moment, until you broke it. “anything special happen at the concert?” you perked up, raising your eyebrows as you held your smile.

“tons! moa was very sweet and interactive the whole time. i always feel bad leaving them,” soobin pouted playfully.

you giggled at his cuteness. this man was adorable, how did you bag him?

the both of you yapped and yapped back and forth for around half an hour, just about your days and how they were. there wasn’t much to talk about though because you called every night. just when the silence set in again, soobin had the urge to glance down at the cleavage of your tits, plush against the floor as you still laid on your stomach. he gulped, trying to hide his nervousness. he was tired, but he would’ve loved to jerk off before bed.

soobin decided to risk it, wanting to be punished by you anyways as the agreement was just that. he slowly reached down into his sweats and down his boxers, gripping and squeezing his hardening dick, gently stroking it as it grew. he stared at your tits, thoughts filling his mind of what he would do with them. occasionally, he looked up at your beautiful face to admire it.

just then as you didn’t notice his staring, you dropped your pen and looked at him through the screen. “have you kept the promise so far?” 

he tried to be discreet, keeping his facial expressions to a minimum, persisting a straight face. “yes. i’m surprised i haven’t lost yet, you know?” soobin chuckled sheepishly, a light blush coating his cheeks. his tone was innocent as he lied, despite what he was doing.

you snickered, smiling at him. “i’ve kept it also. i always have the urge, but i just leave it alone,” you admitted.

soobin took his bottom lip into his mouth, softly biting down onto it as he continued pumping himself slowly, his massive hand stretching around his enormous cock, tugging up and down as he still stared at your tits. oh, how fond he was of them.

you noticed his lip biting, but just shrugged it off as one of his habits.

“you haven’t even touched yourself? not even a little bit?” you asked out of curiosity, completely oblivious to the fact that soobin was right now.

with a soft groan as he let his lip go, he gulped and shook his head no. “not at all,” he mumbled.

something about the change in his tone and demeanor wasn’t convincing you. you tilted your head at him. “hmm, okay,” you hummed, picking your phone up to angle it up on your face and body as you sat up. you decided now was the time to tease him!

“do they look good? i bought this top the other day,” you smiled sweetly into the camera, referring to your tits.

oh, all the things soobin could say.

“of course they do. they always do. especially when my dick’s in between them,” he huffed, his phone bobbing up and down every so often.

his words truly caught you off guard, only expecting him to say the first bits. your eyes widened and jaw dropped, your smile then converting into a wicked smile.

“oh, yeah? i bet you’re missing that right now,” you teased, cupping one of your breasts with one of your small hands–one of the things soobin absolutely adored about you. he doted the size difference between your bodies, finding himself thinking about your tight and gummy walls around his cock.

soobin groaned, letting the back of his head hit the headboard of the bed against the wall, making a small noise. “love your body, babe. wanna come all over it,” he purred, the sinful words dripping off his tongue.

with his hand still working, his dick started to ache with pleasure. the veins within his cock pulsed blood straight to the skin of his hot and angry tip with a bit of extra friction from his foreskin rubbing against it. he couldn’t see the action happening within his pants, not daring to look away from the screen in case of suspicion from you. 

“soobin!” you scolded. “what’s with the dirty words?” you mocked, but deep down, you loved his words of appreciation.

you started to take notice of the shaky camera and the way the corners of his mouth twitched from time to time. his struggled breathing, it was all a signal he might be doing something behind the camera. you decided to confront him about it.

“is my baby letting go? what happened to the promise?” you pouted, your pink and plump lips were the thing that soobin needed around the base of his cock right about now.

soobin tutted, holding back a moan from deep in his throat. “what are you talking about?” he tried to play dumb, only earning a tut back from you.

“i know what you’re doing, soobin. if you let me in on it, i’ll let you come,” you spoke, pointing your finger at him. “deal?”

“deal,” he sputtered, a breathy moan falling out of his mouth as he heard you say his name.

“now show me your dick, baby,” you spoke softly, wanting desperately to see him since you haven’t in so long.

with the shaky hand that was holding his phone, he rested the bottom of his phone on his chest before flipping the camera to showcase his flushed cock, pre-cum leaking out the hole.

your eyes weren’t deceiving you, this was real. soobin’s dick was like a fantasy. it was perfect and pretty in every way. huge, red and veiny, just how you like it. you whimpered yourself when he pulled his dick completely out of his sweats, rubbing his right hand up and down his cock, his foreskin coming up, vacuuming the head before going back down as his hand rested against his stubble of pubic hair. you were practically drooling at the sight, saliva inching down the corner of your bottom lip.

soobin stared at you through the screen, specifically your tits and how they snuggled into your tight top, hard nipples poking through the fabric; imagining himself peeking his tip through the seam of your tits, coming immensely and the cum dripping down your tits. the fantasies that he had were insane, his mind swirling with sinful thoughts.

“are you gonna come soon? couldn't wait til you come home, slut?” the degration slipped out of your mouth, causing a growl to drop from soobin’s.

“y/n…’m close, want you on my dick right now,” he uttered, biting his bottom lip feverishly behind the camera, his head falling back yet again abutting the headboard.

“set your phone up. wanna see your face as you fuck yourself,” you spoke, your tone demanding.

and soobin did so, pushing the comforters down as they bunched up, setting his phone up against them as he flipped the camera back around.

this was amazing; now you could see his admirable facial expressions he made along with the frantic pumping of his cock. he occasionally peeked down at his phone to look at your tits again, having a crave for them around his shaft.

soobin moaned and groaned, his face contorting and twisting in so many ways, mostly in pleasure as his other hand reached down to massage his heavy balls. his cheeks puffed up with air before disappearing when his jaw dropped slack, his voice echoing throughout the room, but in an effort to keep his tone down.

“that’s it. good boy. tell me how much you love me,” you purred as you stopped gawking for a moment to reach your dainty hand into your panties, your fingertips needily rubbing against your clit as your eyes fluttered shut.

soobin babbled, saying how much he loved and wanted your body, how he wanted to worship it and claim it as his own. “gonna come. wanna fill you up, baby,” he confessed, no shame within his expression.

those words immediately set you off, fingertips rubbing as fast as possible against your perky clit, chasing your orgasm. you opened your eyes to see his lengthy and girthy cock twitch in his hand as he slowed down his pumps, on the brink of his orgasm.

“come for me, baby,” you spoke soothingly as you gave him permission to come.

soobin watched you touched yourself, and it was a sight to him. he felt the electricity rushing down his spine and straight to his dick as he observed.

you watched attentively as cum erupted from the hole in his tip, squirting up into the air before landing on the sheets, staining them. cum leaked down his shaft, hastily picked up by his hand as he tugged lightly yet fast, moaning as his thighs trembled from the sensation of not coming for days on end. his orgasm was huge and gratifying, and his facial expressions said it all.

as you witnessed his orgasm, you felt yours coming too. the knot in your stomach snapped as you came, slick dripping out from your hole as your panties caught most of it. you let out a few noises of your own as you rode out your orgasm, your fingers swiping up and down against your pussy, thinking of soobin’s wet tongue lapping up your slick.

“fuck,” soobin cursed, feeling his dick softening now as he shoved it back into his boxers, not wanting to clean up yet. “that felt so good, y/n.”

you chuckled at his words, reaching your hand up from your panties as you wiped it on a nearby towel. “you act like i was there.”

“in my mind you were,” soobin laughed, his toothy smile beaming at the camera as he lifted it back up at the same angle it was before. “i love you so much, i’ll be home soon.”

“i love you, too, bunny. stay safe.”

“of course~.”

a/n: OMG FINALLY. this took me nearly 2 hours. i love soobin tho>:3 gl to the members as they take their hiatus. i’m so proud of them. my babies<3

[myeyebagsaredesigner]

The batkids on a family trip to the beach, they spend the whole day from 6am to almost midnight there, and when Bruce arrives to be together with them the next day he finds his kids in the living room of the beach house sleeping in 5 mattress they put there all hugging eachother and crushing Jason down because he didnt want to sleep with them

Absolutely to everything

They all go on little trips together without Bruce. When he asks why, Steph tells him it's because it's like hanging out with your boss, and nobody speaks up to argue against it, so he just silently accepts this and cries to Alfred every time they go somewhere without him. Dick feels bad eventually and invites him out sometimes, but only after they've all spent some time together without him.

I imagine the beach was the idea of Steph and Dick. She loves the beach, and Dick loves to hang out, so they're probably the ones to mention it.

Duke is immediately on board, because who doesn't love the beach? Tim. Tim doesn't love the beach. He claims it's because he doesn't like the feeling of sand in between his toes, but they all know it's because he burns easy and will spend weeks surviving solely off aloe vera and a dream.

Jason.. does not really care. He wouldn't go to the beach for himself, but he's kind of just glad he was invited. Damian snubs his nose at the idea of being outside in a sandy water hole for hours under the sun willingly, but Jason seems okay with it so he'll go, but makes sure to voice his complaints the whole time.

Cass was invited. They made these plans in the group chat. She did not respond, but she shows up the morning they leave while they're packing up the van holding a tote bag, sunglasses propped up on her head. She wordlessly goes and sits in the passenger seat, cutting off the argument between Tim and Steph about who gets shotgun.

The car ride is something else entirely. Dick almost crashes the car when Duke makes the most blood curdling screech known to mankind, just because Tim jabbed him in the ribs. Tim claims he deserved it, because Jason just revealed it was Duke who kept putting water in his shoes every morning. Tim has been walking in puddles for weeks. Steph and Damian are getting along surprisingly well in the back row, each just doing their own thing on their phone. There's an open bag of chips between them, and Dick is almost positive it's going to tip over at some point.

Halfway through the ride, Jason gets carsick and they have to pull over into a gas station to get him something. After that, the car ride is calmer, mostly because Jason threatened to projectile vomit on whoever even slightly nudged him. They're all asleep within the next fifteen minutes, leaving Dick and Cass in a comfortable silence.

Their day at the beach is utter chaos as usual. It wouldn't be a batkids trip if there wasn't the occasional chaos here and there.

Dick mother hens them all and makes sure they all use a good amount of sunscreen, and then he goes with Cass, Jason, and Damian into the water. Cass sits and watches in the shallow end while the other three start splashing each other. Jason tries to drown Dick. Dick flails his arms around and accidentally splashes Cass. As she stands menacingly, he knows his life is over.

Tim refuses to move from under the umbrella. He will not say why. They know why anyway. Steph lays out on her blanket to tan and Duke goes off to the side to start digging a hole. Steph starts to doze off, and Tim lays one of his shoelaces across her back to ruin her tan. She does not notice. She wishes she had noticed.

Eventually, Dick goes off to play some volleyball with some other people, and Jason joins Duke in digging. Tim finally leaves the comfort of his umbrella after layering on more sunscreen, and he and Damian sit together to make sand castles. Cass has now started placing more random objects on Steph's back. She will blame it on Tim.

Some guy comes running over and thinks it would be funny to step on Damian and Tim's sand castle. He steps on it and kicks it around, only to be faced with a bulky looking man who looks like he went to hell and back. Jason throws him in the whole and holds him down while everyone else buries him. they leave his head above the sand for someone else to find.

They get to the beach house and fight over the shower. Jason complains at all the san their dragging in, ignoring the fact that he's the one with the majority of sand on him. Duke throws himself onto the couch and Steph starts complaining that he's getting it dirty and that they'll never get rid of the sand. Damian is organizing the seashells he found earlier.

They all get showered and fed and Dick suggests a big living room sleep over. They're all on board, minus Jason. He goes up to his own room and goes to bed. A few minutes later, Damian gets up and leaves also. The rest of them exchange looks of confusion with each other before seeing him drag his mattress from his room into Jason's. They all get the memo, and soon enough they're all cuddled up in one big sweaty batpile. Jason complains, but doesn't push anybody away. They fall asleep, and the next morning they starts arguing because someone didn't shower and now everyone has sand stuck to them.

We need more domestic batkid fics. I need to read them just hanging out together. It'll heal me in all the ways I am ill. Mentally.

Batkids <3

[lady-pug]

Written Between the Lines

Chapter VII - Fill Me With Love

Summary: After catching sight of you several times being a sweetheart towards different children, Aemond wishes for a babe of his own, to finally take a step further into growing your family, and he is hells bent on doing it tonight.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Word count: 3,8k

Warnings: canon-typical incest (uncle-niece); smut, so minors DNI; oral sex (female receiving); p in v sex; fingering; switch!Aemond (in this chapter he is truly dom!Aemond); breeding kink

Notes: Okay, this was kind of rushed, but it is because I’m about to go on a trip until the new year and I didn’t want to end the year without updating this story. So here it! Please let me know what you think!!

Anyway, as always, if you spot any mistakes, please feel free to warn me and I’ll correct it right away, and feedback is always welcome and appreciated. Happy holidays, and I’ll see you all next year! Enjoy!

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It was driving him mad. Absolutely downright insane. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take.

In all his years living inside the Red Keep in King’s Landing, Aemond had never realized how many children inhabited the castle along with everyone else. Most of the time the children, especially the babes, were kept separated from court, and even when the older ones did attend, they remained quiet because, as his mother had once told him many years ago, ‘children were meant to be seen, not heard’. 

Even then, he didn’t typically interact with most of the kids. Sure, he enjoyed the company of his sister’s children, Jaehaera in particular, but other than that he did not really speak to other people below adolescence. What he didn’t account for was how much you seemed to spend your time with children.

Everywhere he went you seemed to have a child not too far from you; either a babe in your arms, a toddler propped on your hip or a child clinging to your skirts, you seemed to attract every child in the vicinity. When you weren’t helping Rhaenyra with Visenya, cradling her close to your chest, you were teaching Aegon and Viserys how to bond with their dragons. You even started spending time with Helaena’s children; more than once he caught you in her chambers, playing with Jaehaerys or brushing Jaehaera’s hair, or bouncing Maelor in your arms. Sometimes he even saw you interacting with one of the servants’ children, giving them your undivided attention.   

The most unexpected for him, however, was what the sight of you with a child, whoever they were, made him feel. Anytime Aemond would lay eyes on you laughing and making silly faces towards a child, or consoling a crying infant his heart clenched and something in his stomach twisted. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, couldn’t properly give this feeling a name, until the day he caught you bouncing Visenya in your arms, humming under your breath. A lullaby, he recognized, one his own mother used to sing to him many years ago. That’s when it hit him fullforce, the meaning behind the heat pooling low in his stomach. spreading to his chest, crawling up his neck and warming his cheeks. 

He was horny. 

Aemond was honestly taken aback by how turned on the thought of you with a child, more specifically, with his child made him feel. He felt his cock twitch at the image his mind conjured: you, carrying his child in your womb, stomach swollen and heavy. As your hums gave way to words, outright singing to your sister now, the image changed, now another child, a toddler, a mop of white hair atop their head and eyes so much like yours, sprawled at your side on a bench, head on your lap as you read to both them and the child still inside you, book propped on your prominent bump. The strength of the pleasure brought to him by the thought was so great he had to lean against the nearest wall in order not to fall over.

The two of you had been married for over a moon already and his seed had yet to take root, as the ladies in court insisted on reminding you, much to your visible displeasure. It wasn’t for lack of trying though, oh no, but sometimes these types of things take time, as Rheanyra reminded you once. But even her words could not prevent the disappointment that had taken over you once your moonsblood arrived a little over a sennight after the wedding. Aemond had never seen you this disappointed before, not even when your mother had scolded you after finding out you had kicked Aegon years before (even though he very much deserved it), and you had spent the rest of the day in quiet solitude. He had eventually found you sulking in the Keep’s library, thumbing at a book he knew you had already read, having skipped supper.

“Wife.” he had greeted “You were missed at dinner.”  

“I am not hungry.” you pouted, and had you not been thoroughly upset, he would have found it charming.

Sighing, he had taken a seat next to you, gently grabbing one of your hands and pulling it towards his lips. 

“We can try again.” he laid a soft kiss on your knuckles.

“I know. I just-” it was your turn to sigh then “I was just so hopeful.”

“I know. As was I.” his thumb started caressing the back of your hand “But we keep trying. We do not stop trying until I have fucked my seed so far into your womb it has no other choice but to take root.”

You chuckled at his antics, growing flustered at his crass words.

“And besides,” he placed a short yet hungry kiss upon your lips “it is not like the ‘trying’ part is displeasurable for either of us, if my memory serves me right. You were actually quite…” he mockingly paused, pretending to look for the right word “vocal about it last night.”

Although your cheeks were flaming with embarrassment, you had kissed him fiercely in return, not necessarily disagreeing with him. He then proceeded to take you right there in the library, with you bent over the hardwood table, the book you had been previously reading long forgotten. Aemond was sure grandmaester Orwyle had entered the room at some point but he couldn’t bring himself to care a single bit, too distracted by his cock nestled upon the damp warmth of your cunt.  

At the time he hadn’t realized how much the thought of you carrying his child impacted him, but now? It was all he could think about. It was a raw, almost primal need, one which set his blood aflame, like dragon fire. He wanted, no, needed it. At the same time, a softness enveloped him when such thoughts arose in his mind, him caressing your swollen stomach and whispering sweet nothings to your, his, unborn child; sleeping on his back with a tiny babe sprawled on his naked chest, right over his heart, one of his large palms over their back, covering the entirety of their little body and protecting them from the dangers of the world. 

It all came to a head one afternoon, his sparring session with Ser Criston running later than he predicted, causing him to miss lunch with you. So he set out to find you, intent on making up for his mistake, but he couldn’t find you anywhere inside the palace. After inquiring about your whereabouts to some of the servants they pointed him in the direction of the gardens. And the sight that greeted him almost knocked him off his feet.

You were sitting under the weirwood tree, your back against the harsh bark, Helaena slumped against the tree next to you, deep in slumber. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera laid at your side, both with a head laying against each of your thighs, while you cradled baby Maelor with one arm against your chest. Your free hand was interwoven in his niece’s soft locks, caressing her scalp. For a moment he figured all three children, like their mother, were asleep in your lap, and although that seemed to be the case for both his nephews, he soon heard Jaehaera’s soft, tiny voice speak up to you, her eyelids heavy and droopy.

“I ran into Lady Baratheon after tea.” she said “Me and brother were running in the halls and I bumped into her legs.” 

Aemond watched as your lips curled into a smirk, picturing the two children running around and causing mischief, much like the two of you once did in your youth.

“And what did she say?” you questioned.

“She went” and the little girl produced a scoffing sound, almost ridiculous coming from her “and said we should not be running, that we could hurt someone.”

It was your turn to scoff then, as if the notion that two small children could hurt a grown adult was ludicrous. 

“She looked angry and said I should stop behaving like that, that it was too un… unla…”

“Unladylike?” you supplied for her, your smirk no longer present, a gloom look crossing over your features.

“Yes, that!” she giggled, then her expression turned slightly sour “She said it is no wonder I am so q… qu…” 

“Queer?” you gritted out.

“Yes, that I am queer just like my mother.”

Aemond felt his blood boiling in his veins at the jab directed not only at his niece, but also at his sister. It was true that Helaena was different, had always been, but it never ceased to enrage him how the people, and mostly, the women on court would treat her. The younger ones would exclude her from their endeavors at best, and at worst they would pretend to be interested in her and then proceed to whisper foul things about her behind her back. The older ladies would often treat her like a child, infantilizing her and speaking to her in a sickeningly sweet and paused tone that he knew she loathed. It was one of the reasons he was so thankful for the way you treated his sister; unlike his mother, who pretended nothing was different about her, you acknowledged it and embraced Helaena’s differences, the things that make her who she is. He was glad that Helaena found a dear friend in you, not failing to notice that since your arrival at the Keep she had been visibly more relaxed and less lonely.

“Jaehaera.” he had barely noticed that your fingers had stilled their movement in her hair or that your expression had hardened “You know what you should do next time Lady Baratheon, or anyone for that matter, says something like that about you or your mother?” 

“What?”

Your previous smirk returned to your features then, mischief swimming in your eyes.

“You kick them in the shin.” you shook your head “Or better yet, you call for me and I will do it for you, that way you will not get in trouble.”

For a single, brief moment, Aemond could have sworn his heart ceased beating, were it not for the loud ringing in his ears. Warmth spread through his body, starting from his chest and travelling up his neck, to his cheeks heating up the tip of his ears, all the while that same blood boiled in his veins, traveling down and making his cock twitch.

For a fleeting moment he felt lousy for the reaction such a tender moment between you, his wife, and his beloved niece arose in him, but the feeling was brief, for the very next moment he was rushing to your shared chambers, like a man on a mission.

He was hells bent on getting you with child that very day, and the Seven be damned if they didn’t give him what he wanted.

Your afternoon spent with your good sister and her children left you feeling refreshed, regardless of the foul feeling your conversation with Jaehaera elicited in you. If you were being quite honest, some of the women in court irked you, always meddling into other people’s business and treating others, including those of higher stations than them, as if lesser than. Lady Cassandra Baratheon was one of those women, so you didn’t feel a single drop of remorse about the advice you had given to your cousin, now niece.

The only thing about your day that had not been so enjoyable was the fact that your lord husband had skipped lunch. It wasn’t so much that his absence itself bothered you, although you did enjoy spending time in his company, it was just that at times he got so in his head that he often forgot to take care of himself. A few hours into the afternoon you had thought you had caught a glimpse of him in the outskirts of the garden but where you were expecting him to join the lot of you, he had completely vanished by the time you properly glanced his way. 

That was over a half hour ago, where you now strided towards your chambers to clean up for supper.

Or that would have been your plan, had you not been surprised by a warm body practically colliding into you the moment you crossed the threshold, one large hand tangling in your hair and the other snaking around your waist. Lips captured your own in a hungry, messy kiss, teeth clashing and a warm tongue brushing over your bottom lip and into your mouth.

“Ābrazȳrys, finally.” he moaned, pulling back only a fraction, just enough to look at you for a moment before connecting your lips again.

“V-Valzȳrys…” you tried speaking as he pulled you further into the room and pressed you even more against himself, closing the door behind you, but his kiss was relentless, his lips moving to your jaw and down your neck, titling your head to give him better access to your skin. 

It was then that you noticed the state of him: his hair down, a few messy strands out of place, the first few buttons of his doublet undone and something hard was poking your navel. Pulling back a bit, as much as his grip on you would allow, you noticed that his breeches were unlaced and pulled down slightly, his cock out, hard and glistening, which told you he had been tugging at it for at least a while now.

He pulled you back in, mouth latching against your shoulder as he sucked and nibbled on the skin.

“Aem…” it was when you felt his hands moving to your back, clawing at the laces of your dress, that you pulled back and held his cheeks in your hands, forcing him to keep his gaze on you “Aemond, what has gotten into you?”

He sighed then, leaning into your palms, before coming closer and leaning his forehead against yours.

“I am putting a child into your womb tonight, my love.” his warm fanning against your lips, his words making your heart skip a beat “I do not care how long it takes, ot how many times I have to fuck that sweet cunt of yours, my seed is taking root inside you tonight.”

It was your turn to kiss him desperately then, something primal fueling your actions. Something about the way he spoke, about what he spoke of, lit a fire in your stomach that pulsed in your core. He met you in the middle with equal fervor, his tongue tangling with yours as he resumed his task.

He turned you around then, pushing you towards the foot of the bed. His hands were a contrast with the way the rest of his body was moving, gently moving your hair out of the way so he could nibble on the skin of your exposed neck harshly. His other hand softly untangled the laces of your dress, all the while he grinded his exposed cock against your clothed ass.

“What brought this on, if I may ask?” you asked breathlessly, yet still curious about his behavior.

“Seeing you, with them,” he moaned and grinded into you more forcefully at the thought, and you could feel his cock twitch violently against your behind “I want that for us, for you.”

You softened then, a warm and fuzzy feeling taking over your heart. You wanted that too, as you had once told him, you wanted a family of your own, you wanted to share this with him. And it seemed he wanted it just the same. 

You couldn’t dwell on it for too long though, because soon enough your dress was loose enough for him to push it off your shoulders, the fabric pooling around your feet, quickly followed by your underclothes. You went to turn around but a pair of large hands on your waist stopped your movements. 

“Stay.” he whispered against your ear, and you could do nothing but nod.

The sound of heavy fabric rustling behind you let you know that his own clothes were being discarded, which was confirmed when you felt the entire plane of his naked chest pressed against your back, his heavy cock nestled on your ass as he wrapped both arms around your middle.

“Ñuha ābrazȳrys, ñuha dāria.” he spoke against the shell of your ear before nipping at your earlobe “Muña hen ñuha riñar.”

It made your heart clench and heat climb up your spine, a gush of something warm spreading between your thighs. 

His hands moved then, softly caressing your skin as they went before settling, one on your lower back and the other right between your shoulder blades. A light of pressure of his palms caused your knees to bend, hitting the soft mattress, your upper body bending at the waist as you placed your hands on the bed to help support your weight. He knelt behind you, gently rearranging you so you scooted further on up on the bed.

For a moment nothing happened and time seemed to pause around you. Nothing else mattered, nothing else existed besides the two of you in this very moment. 

Then you felt it, his hands holding your thighs as his hot breath tingled against your glistening folds before his tongue made contact with your cunt, licking a broad stripe against your folds. A whimper escaped your lips as his tongue circled your clit, moving back up and circling your entrance in the same manner, dipping only the very tip inside. His movements were slow yet sharp, precise, like he knew your body inside and out.

You whined, him mouthing at the entirety of your cunt, pulling your folds between his lips, before his lips latched onto your clit, sucking gently. Your arms started trembling, forcing you down to your stomach with your forearms flat on the mattress, his grip keeping your ass up. He plunged not one but two fingers inside you, eliciting a sharp cry from you as you tried to move away from him, though again his grip on your thighs wouldn’t let you. He waited a moment for you to adjust, one of his thumbs gently caressing your skin as he whispered sweet nothings in high valyrian, before slowly, very gently starting to move his fingers out of your cunt before pushing in again.

In a few moments he was clawing against your warm walls as if his life depended on it, probing, searching for that spot that made your mind spin and knocked the breath out of your chest. Hot molten pleasure was pooling in your stomach, spreading through your limbs and up your spine when the pads of his fingers brushed against it, sending a twinge of pleasure travelling all through your body. The mounting pressure in your navel kept growing and growing with each pass of his digits, making sweat drip from your brow and heat settle in your cheeks. 

A harsh tug of his lips, sucking harshly on your clit, was what sent you over the edge, the coil snapping and sending waves upon waves of pleasure through you, stealing your breath from your lungs. He barely gave you any time to think, though, the familiar sound of him sucking his fingers clean followed by his cock poking at your entrance. Then you felt two hands settling in each one of your shoulders, pulling you back towards him and onto his cock in one swift thrust, your previous release offering no resistance.

You moaned loudly, your ears ringing as he started pounding into you, his hands moving to your hips. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room as his hips met your ass repeatedly, your own loud whines and his groans and grunts the only other sounds you could make out.

The pleasure was quickly rebuilding, not having fully receded in the first place, but after a few moments he slowed down to a stop, a whine of disappointment ripping from your throat.

“No,” he panted, his own breath stilled “this will not do.”

Your disappointment was short lived however, as he quickly flipped your around, manhandling you on your back and pushing your knees to your chest. He hurriedly thrust inside your cunt again, positioning himself so your legs slotted perfectly over his shoulders and his chest was flush against your own, pushing down on you, before resuming his erratic pace.

It was dizzying, your head was spinning and you could barely catch the words he was speaking against your skin, both his hands cradling the sides of your face as his cock slipped in and out and in and out of you over and over.

“Ñuha dāria, sīr vok,” he groaned, pressing even further into you and, in turn, pressing you even more into the matress “kesā tepagon nyke hen riñar, kessa ao daor?” 

You could only nod, feeling that familiar pressure climbing and coiling ready to burst at any moment. At the same time, an immeasurable wave of love exploded from your heart at the thought, making you clench tightly around him, pulling a hiss from him.

“Tepagon ziry naejot nyke, pār.” his own voice was trembling, one of his hands leaving your face to circle your clit in short sharp circles “G-Give it to me and in turn I will give you however many babes you might want.”

You cried out, the coil of pressure snapping once more and making molten heat, scorching like dragon fire, filling your mind, waves of pleasure radiating from your core to every part of your body, taking over all your senses and enveloping your very being. He was quick to follow, thrusting sloppily into your cunt as his cock twitched violently, shooting ropes of his warm seed, painting your damp walls, his body collapsing over your own.

As you came to your senses you could feel him mouthing gently, almost lazily at the skin around your breast. When he noticed you staring at him he raised his head, his lips meeting your own in a sweet, soft peck.

“Avy jorrāelan, zaldrītsos.” he smiled tiredly, his whole face lighting up beautifully.

“Avy jorrāelan tolī, ñuha zaldrīzes.” you answered in kind.

After a few moments regaining your breath you pushed at his shoulder gently, so he could get off of you, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Where are you going, ābrazȳrys?” he jested, a mocking smirk taking over his features as he thrust his now softening cock shallowly into your cunt “I told you I would get you with child by the end of the night, and I intend on making good on my word.”

By the looks of it, you’d both end up missing supper that evening, as you were in for a long night

High Valyrian translations: - ābrazȳrys - wife - valzȳrys - husband - ñuha ābrazȳrys, ñuha dāria - my wife, my queen - muña hen ñuha riñar - mother of my children - ñuha dāria, sīr vok - my queen, so perfect - kesā tepagon nyke iā lot hen riñar, kessa ao daor? - you will give me a lot of children, will you not? - tepagon ziry naejot nyke, pār - give it to me, then

Tag List:

@callsignwidow

@sleephereicome

@bitchassgoose

@voguiing

@dibutw

@fruityvampslayer

@garden-in-the-rain

@queen-of-elves

@woodlandwrites

[tojiscrack]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄

summary: 11.4k words — you spend some time at megumi and yuji’s open game, but spend some more time with someone else there

notes: i was overwhelmed with the amount of asks, messages, comments, and dm’s the last chapter provoked! (in a good way ofc, i loved it 😭). now i’m just curious — a lot of you (as predicted) hated the events of last chapter. you’re definitely not gonna enjoy this one :) anyway, it’s 1hr past the 22nd of dec, and i intended to get this out for megumi’s birthday, so pretend i did. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO OUR GRUMPY PORCUPINE! <3

tw: shouting, BELLOWING, yelling, whatever other words you might use for that lol, and blood, criminals, and gangs

i do not own any of the characters of jjk, i only own the character of y/n and her mother. the other characters belong to gege akutami.

previous chapter :)

next chapter :)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

"the raven himself is hoarse that croaks the fatal entrance of duncan under my battlements ... come, you spirits that tend on mortal thoughts!"

the stage lights cast a soft glow, illuminating you as you delivered your lines with striking conviction. it wasn't a performance for a packed auditorium, but a rehearsal for your extracurricular theatre club.

the room was mostly empty, save for a few of your peers and your director, yet megumi could feel the atmosphere buzzing with quiet focus. your voice filled the space, and he silently appreciated how you could throw yourself into a character so conniving like lady macbeth and then jump right into being your bubbly self once again, as though you hadn't just emasculated poor macbeth trembling on the other side of the stage.

not that he'd ever tell you that. the most you'd get is a pat on the head, and even that seemed to be a bit much for megumi.

the lack of an audience didn't matter to you, it seemed; you poured your entire heart into the scene, as if the world were watching.

but it was easy to remind himself of the fact that it was a rehearsal and not a real performance, for every time you reached that exact line, you'd let out a snort and turn away with the same maturity as a child. megumi became more and more unimpressed each time it happened.

"y/n," the director called out, her voice made ten times louder from the echo of the megaphone.

you nodded, but still failed to wipe that grin off your face.

"i got it," you assured her, and megumi had almost missed what you'd said when the loud movement of the seats from somewhere in the backrow had sounded for the nth time. you schooled your face with an expression of determination, but megumi could see the underlying hint of amusement, clear as day. "unsex me here! and fill me from the —"

you'd cut yourself off with your laughter, the sound of it only resulting in more groans from your peers backstage, but megumi only watched you with a raised brow, mentally cursing whoever was making that stupid chair noise from the backrow — your laughter had been drowned out by it.

"i can't do it," you chortled, using the pages of your script to hide your face. "i can't do it!"

the director's sigh echoed around the hall.

"right, adjust the flower crown 'cause it's sitting on the edge of your head, and let's do act five, scene one."

megumi leaned back in his chair, arms crossed as he observed the stage's organised chaos. you and your peers bustled about, setting up for the transition to the next scene.

the props crew adjusted the minimalistic set pieces while one of your friends struggled to untangle a misplaced curtain cord. you briefly stepped offstage, laughing with another castmate as they adjusted your flower crown to sit properly atop your head.

as the lights dimmed slightly in preparation, megumi looked up again, his patience steady, fully expecting to see you dive back into the character of lady macbeth without skipping a beat.

and you had — straight away.

you were now at the centre of the stage once more, standing by a fake sink — a prop — your arms extended before you, one hand holding your script, the other with fingers curled towards yourself.

"out, damned spot!" you began, voice striking. "out, i say!"

there was a pause, and megumi half believed that you had forgotten the rest of your lines (even though you were reading out of a paper script held in your hand) but then you looked up, apparently going to improv.

"out, damned fricking spot! get out of here! you damned — damned spot, get away and just — just go and leave and why don't you just leave —"

"y/n," the director called out your name, tone firm and scolding. "stick to the scri— oh for god's —"

you laughed loudly, shaking your head and standing still, your hands back at your side.

"'kay i'm sorry," you sighed, and megumi could tell that you were genuine, but he knew the director couldn't. from his seat in the audience, the director's eyes had narrowed, her megaphone now at her side as she raised a brow at you, the lines on her forehead prominent as ever.

"i'll start again," you told her, and megumi had to strain to catch that, for the stupid chair noise had echoed around the hall again.

you had lifted your script and began hurriedly rereading your lines, but when your eyes had lifted and skimmed the hall, passing megumi's, he frowned when you stumbled, almost looking as though you had attempted to retreat in fear.

"what just happened?" the director's voice called out through the megaphone again.

you furrowed your brows and squinted your eyes. megumi held back a scowl. what the hell were you up to now?

you eventually answered the question, but only after you'd become comfortable at the centre of the stage again, nodding to yourself with a smile.

"ah, sorry," you said, meeting her stern gaze sheepishly. "the outline of megumi's head just scared me for a second —"

the scowl that he'd been trying his hardest to hold back had been released, and it only deepened at the sound of the people backstage — your foolish classmates — laughing along.

there was nothing funny about that, and if he chose to tell all of them about your mermaid fiasco several years ago, you wouldn't find it funny then.

he sunk in his seat, throwing you a glare you probably couldn't see very well seeing as the rest of the auditorium was dark; the only lights being shun were the ones on the stage.

"if she wasn't my best lead, i would've kicked her out by now," the director whispered, only, it had been (accidentally) spoken with the megaphone on.

she quickly turned it off, but it had been too late: you'd already heard it.

your lips parted slightly, eyebrows raised in mild offense, but the glimmer in your eyes betrayed a certain smugness. you glanced briefly at the director with mock indignation, a hand coming to rest on your hip as if you were about to deliver a snarky comeback, but instead, you simply shook your head and turned back to your script, a faint, satisfied smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

megumi watched this unfold, his expression still maintaining that bitter scowl.

while the comment seemed to have both bruised and inflated your ego, he wasn't surprised. you'd always had this uncanny ability to balance between taking yourself seriously and not at all. best lead, he thought dryly, watching with half lidded eyes as you delivered your next few lines correctly. if only she knew how many times he'd seen you trip over thin air or forget half your lines in the name of a 'creative process'. still, he begrudgingly admitted to himself that, onstage, you were captivating — even if it happened to be for the wrong reasons half the time.

as the rehearsal wound down, you and your peers began packing up on stage. megumi used his phone to check the time.

it was time to go home.

scripts were gathered and props carefully returned to their designated spots by the crew. the faint creak of the stageboards accompanied the bustle, with one of your classmates complaining about how she couldn't find her missing pencil while another laughed at something whispered behind the curtains.

you slipped off your flower crown, adjusting it absentmindedly before tossing it onto a nearby prop table, and joined the group tidying up. the director had long since stopped barking orders and now stood by the edge of the stage, chatting with one of the seniors about next week's rehearsal schedule.

megumi stood from his seat with a quiet sigh, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he made his way towards the backstage area, but not without stopping to throw the annoying person at the back row with the noisy chair a glance.

the person was now standing, but the automatic chair had slammed itself shut, allowing that loud noise to carry itself around the hall.

megumi had made his way towards the wall by the side curtain, his nose scrunched at the person — their silhouette showing that it was a guy around the same height as himself.

he had left the hall abruptly as megumi leaned against the wall, waiting for you to finish up, his gaze idly tracking your movements.

you turned around and jumped.

"ah, porcupine!" you gasped, unclipping your bracelets absentmindedly. "you need to announce your arrival, you scared m—"

"shut up, mermaid," he snapped, his patience running thin.

your lips pressed themselves into a tight line, eyes narrowing as you straightened your posture and clenched your jaw, willing yourself to keep your composure, though the sharpness in your movements — tossing your bracelets into the props table with more force than necessary —betrayed your irritation.

"i'm gonna call security on you," you threatened him, the corner of your mouth twitching as if you were fighting the urge to scowl outright, but instead, you busied yourself with adjusting your hair. the flower crown had messed the top of it.

"why are you tapping your head like that?" he questioned, not even entertaining the empty threat you'd shot at him.

"'cause if i'm not careful, i'll end up looking like a punk," you answered, before intentionally eyeing his dishevelled, fluffy hair. you met his sharpened gaze with a look of faux remorse. "yikes."

there was a glint of something dangerous in his eyes as he watched you try to unclip the necklace hanging delicately on your collarbone — a warning, sharp and unspoken, that clearly said: watch it.

"turn around," he grumbled, when it became apparent that it was going to take a while for you to finally manage taking the ugly necklace off.

you complied without much protest. however, that didn't mean that you did so silently:

"could be nicer about i— ow, porcupine! it's got my hair, it's got my hair!"

"stop moving," megumi demanded, messily throwing your hair over your shoulder to your front. he grunted under his breath when you continued to struggle against him. "squirming like a mermaid —"

your reaction was immediate, bristling with indignation as your head snapped around to glare at him, though the position made it awkward. if he wasn't fiddling with the clasp at the base of your neck, you might've been tempted to swat at his hands, but instead, you turned your focus forward, muttering something unintelligible under your breath that was undoubtedly not complimentary.

you flinched when he had finally managed to successfully unclip the necklace, but only when it continued to tug at the hairs at the back of your neck.

"porcupine — ow! oh my g— stop!" you complained, your eyes watering and knees bending as megumi tugged at the necklace again.

"how else am i supposed to take it off?" he shot back, grumpy.

"i'mgonnaendupinahospitalbedlikeallthoseyearsagoandnearlydie—"

"you never nearly died," said megumi, emphasising his point by cruelly pulling the necklace down again. you had stumbled back into him, but he remained stagnant where he stood, brows furrowed in both annoyance and deep concentration. "don't be stupid."

"ouch! you're doing it on purpose now, you — porcu—"

"right, who is porcupine?" the director's voice cut through the air like a whip, sharp and demanding attention.

the two of you looked up abruptly: she was standing before you, arms raised (and brows furrowed) in confusion.

deadpanned, you shot megumi a quick glance before addressing her.

"... is it really that hard to guess, looking between the two of us?"

at that, megumi had harshly pulled the necklace, taking some of your hair with it.

you squeaked, your hand immediately going up to ease the pain as you spun around and stared at his hand, the necklace holding bits of your hair cut fresh from the top of your neck.

"..."

"..."

"... okay, what is going on here?" the director asked, her eyes following the prop as megumi casually threw it over your head and onto the table behind you.

megumi barely had time to blink after that before you lunged at him, your hands diving into his hair with startling precision.

you yanked back with just enough force to rip out a few strands, his grunt of annoyance and pain echoing around the hall as the director stood frozen, her expression caught somewhere between bewildered disbelief and an exasperated sigh, as though contemplating whether this entire exchange was even worth addressing.

"right, y/n —"

"now we're even!" you snapped, as though the woman beside you hadn't spoken at all. you presented the dark hairs to megumi, and then purposefully made him watch as you slowly pocketed them, taking your sweet time and relishing in the crease between his brows that continued to deepen the longer you drew it out.

"you're a weirdo," he stated icily, but you turned away, paying him no mind.

"keep talking and i'm gonna get nobara's voodoo doll."

the two of you exited the auditorium together, the air practically vibrating with the quiet reluctance of megumi's brooding presence beside you.

he strode with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, meanwhile, you walked with an air of triumph, your fingers slipping into your own pocket every so often to toy with the strands of his hair, a small grin tugging at your lips every time you caught the subtle crackle of his growing irritation.

he deserved it.

"what did you think of rehearsal?" you asked him curiously. "lady macbeth's lines are so funny —"

"they're not funny," megumi disagreed bluntly. he sounded genuine. "you're just immature."

you showed him the strands of his hair that you'd passionately held onto in your pocket.

"say that again," you challenged, brows raised.

he merely swatted your wrist away with a scowl; you pocketed his hair with a shrug.

"as i was saying," you continued, as the two of you exited the school, "the macbeth play isn't gonna have a proper audience anyway, so i'm not too fussed about perfecting lady macbeth's lines. it's gonna be recorded tho! what did you think of it so far?"

megumi narrowed his eyes, the sun peeking out from over the clouds bright enough to blind him momentarily.

"couldn't even hear anything 'cause of the idiot sitting at the back," he told you with a scowl.

you laughed, brows raised in intrigue.

"yeah, they've been here for the past week or so," you informed your friend, chuckling at his sour expression.

"why don't you kick him out?"

"if we were to kick out every single disturbance, you would be sitting outside every day, porcupine."

"i'm not a disturbance."

"your hair is though."

"shut up."

as you neared the bike rack, you spotted yuji and nobara waiting for the two of you by their respective bikes.

yuji's was unmistakably bright — an electric blue frame with neon green accents that megumi thought perfectly screamed his excitable personality, complete with a flashy bell he had been spinning absentmindedly. nobara's, in contrast, was a sleek, matte-black with a subtle crimson stripe running along the frame. as the two of them looked up at your approach, yuji tilted his head with a toothy grin, arm raised in the air, already waving.

megumi believed that your bike stood out against the others, its pastel yellow frame and front basket adorned with a bunch of small, faux daisies that gave it a cheerful, almost whimsical vibe.

he approached his own as the three of you jumped into conversation with one another.

megumi's bike, dark navy and utterly plain, had been parked beside yours — you never failed to remind him how it looked like a sullen counterpart. he didn't care: it was his bike after all, not yours.

"my parents are working late again," yuji added brightly. he was sitting on his bike, waiting for the rest of you to clip on your helmets and do the same. "grandpa's home, and choso's at his place, so we basically have the house to ourselves tonight."

you silently nodded, hanging your bag on the right handlebar.

megumi scowled at nobara, who had seated herself on her bike, discarding her phone in her bag and zipping it up without another word.

"put your helmet on," he demanded her.

she looked up at him with a stony expression, her lips set in a straight line and brows furrowed as though to say 'are you talking to me?'.

"i'm having a bad hair day today —"

yuji frowned, looking bewildered:

"— but your hair looks nice —"

"shut up," snapped nobara, continuing as though you had not laughed loudly at the falter in yuji's bemused smile. you swerved away from his leg when he extended it to kick at your bike. "i'm not gonna make it worse by putting on that helmet."

megumi did not look impressed by her answer, throwing one of his legs over his bike to sit down and unclip his own helmet, glaring at her all the while.

"you're turning into the mermaid —"

"what the hell?" you demanded angrily, gesturing to your own helmet, which was conveniently sitting on your head. "i'm wearing mine!"

megumi's face tightened, jaw tensed as though he were biting back a sharp retort. one hand gripped the handlebar of his bike firmly, while the other toyed with the edge of his helmet, spinning it idly in a way that betrayed his rising frustration.

"i know why you're hesitating to wear yours," you shot back, offended by his jab at you, unprovoked. "it'll flatten down your sea-urchin hair and make you look like your dad —"

"watch it," he warned you icily, a short, clipped exhale leaving his nose as he glanced between you and nobara, his expression a mix of exasperation and resignation, like he'd just resigned to a battle he never wanted to fight in the first place.

the sky stretched above in a pale canvas of soft blues and muted golds, the sun dipping lazily towards the horizon, its warm light spilling across the school front in delicate, golden hues. the four of you had mounted your bikes and had already begun cycling down the road, away from the busy bus route yuji would usually take and down the quiet neighbourhood, away from the loud traffic lights.

wisps of cotton-like clouds floated idly, their edges tinged with blush and amber as the day prepared to give way to the evening the longer the four of you bickered and laughed, simultaneously being wary of the occasional car that would pass by every now and then. the faint rustle of leaves stirred by the gentle breeze whispered through the air, carrying with it the crisp, earthy scent of early autumn. your shadows stretched long across the crosswalk, mingling with the sporadic glint of sunlight reflecting off the polished metal frames of your bikes.

"grandpa went to the store the other day," yuji loudly spoke. he was riding his bike beside you while megumi and nobara cycled just ahead. "he bought a bunch of new films for us! we can watch the nun tonight!"

"is it wise to watch a horror movie at your place?" nobara called out, her hair a lighter shade where the sun hit it.

yuji looked bewildered at her question. "but we always watch horror movies at my place..."

"no, she's right!" you added, eyes wide. "what if we accidentally trigger the s word somehow?"

yuji's expression shifted almost comically as the realisation dawned on him, his brows furrowing in confusion before lifting in sudden clarity. he sat upright on his bike, one hand tightening on the handlebars as if steadying himself, while his other hand shot up to nervously scratch the back of his head.

"oi, use both hands," megumi demanded from up front.

yuji silently complied, though his eyes remained glued on you.

"sukuna won't —"

"don't say his name," you hissed, brows furrowed in both anger and panic.

yuji's wide-eyed expression stayed constant as the conversation continued.

"wait, it should be fine, guys," nobara had intervened, one hand holding onto her bike while the other extended itself towards the brooding, dark-haired male cycling beside her. "we have megumi — he's great at protecting us!"

megumi shot her a sharp look as he swatted her hand away. apparently, he did not agree with this idea.

"remember when he pushed su—"

"nobara!"

"— the s word away from us when he said he'd rip our hair out and use them as handcuffs?" she continued, as you cycled behind her with a wariness only the demon could bring out of you. "he comes up with the most creative threats, y'know. sometimes i'm a little impressed, but my hair's too short for handcuffs —"

"he wanted us bald," you reminded her helpfully, "so that means ripping your hair from the roots, which is long enough for handcuffs, paired with mine, too."

"that's irrelevant," said megumi, his hair standing up as the four of you cycled through the breeze. you imagined him looking rather silly from the front, seeing as the back was serving enough laughs out of both you and yuji. "and i can't do much today anyway. after the movie, i have to look over sharmin and miwa's history homework."

you frowned at the back of his head.

"you're doing their homework?" you asked, sounding offended.

"they asked me to look over it before practice today," megumi answered calmly, "but i didn't have time, so i said i'd do it later today and give it back to them tomorrow."

that did not sit right with you, not when megumi always refused to do your homework whenever you asked.

you pedalled faster and slipped in between megumi and nobara, shooting him a look of disapproval.

"any time i ask you to do my homework, you refuse," you told him with a raised brow.

"same goes for them," megumi responded, throwing nobara (who was now behind the two of you) and yuji both a look a warning glance for arguing over nothing loudly. "i'm not doing their homework. i'm looking over it."

you shrugged. "yeah that's what i ask you to do, too."

"no you don't."

"yes i do!"

"you don't."

"i do!"

"you don't," megumi snapped, his patience thin. "you lie about being sick and try to guilt trip me into it —"

"accusations!" you gasped, lifting one hand to point at him dramatically. "false accusations!"

you'd nearly lost your balance on your bike due to how quickly you had sat up and let go of the handlebars. megumi, once again, extended his own arm and directed your bike properly again, but not without clicking his tongue at you in distaste.

"y/n!" nobara called for you from behind.

you looked over your shoulder and then regretted it when megumi flicked your forehead in warning. you turned back around abruptly, narrowing your eyes at him as they watered.

he didn't have to do it so hard, you thought to yourself grumpily.

"nobara, i can't look at you 'cause of the bike police over here —"

"shut up."

despite megumi's harsh criticism, nobara had continued to talk anyway.

"yuji's hair is nothing like miwa's, right?" she said, and you did not have to look back to be aware of yuji's frown of both annoyance and disappointment. "his is like a dull pink —"

yuji did not like that. "hey!"

"miwa's looks better," you responded easily. it hadn't been a difficult decision after all: you remembered the day miwa had walked past the school doors with the long, blue hair that ran past her shoulders and spine. "the blue suits her! and the bangs too!"

"told you," you heard nobara's smug voice add.

"it also matches her eyes," you commented with a smile. "you can't say the same, yuji."

"wha— megumi!" yuji shouted desperately. "help me out!"

you glanced over at megumi's face. he seemed indifferent, as always, but his response had said otherwise.

he had shrugged, relaxed. "they're right."

yuji's wail of misery only had the three of you threatening to leave him behind. he had sulked for a bit, but eventually joined in on the next set of conversations you found yourself immersed in for a portion of the remainder of the journey.

the sun hung low on the horizon, its amber glow spilling across the quiet neighborhood like molten gold. the bungalows stood neatly in rows, their silhouettes softened by the warm, fading light, and the occasional flicker of a porch light hinted at the coming dusk, while the air seemed to grow still, as though welcoming the four of you to yuji's neighbourhood again.

"you can't do it," you told yuji, who had been adamant in showing all of you a trick that choso had taught him on his bike the other day. you threw him a look of disbelief from over your shoulder.

your bike had swerved unexpectedly, and when you turned back around to regain control, you noted that it was megumi, who had his hand on the front of your bike, apparently saving you from having ridden over a large rock in the middle of the road.

"i can!" yuji protested, riding past both you and megumi to keep up with nobara, who had long since ridden ahead. "just watch!"

"don't do it, you idiot," megumi chided, glaring at the back of yuji's pink head.

"but —"

megumi cut across him harshly. "you're gonna fall."

"i won't!" yuji shouted back, eyes wide with exhilaration. "i've done it a hundred times already! just look!"

yuji surged forwards on his bike, his grin brimming with confidence as he positioned himself to attempt the trick. he shifted his weight back, tugging up on the handlebars with a flourish to lift the front wheel off the ground.

for a brief, fleeting moment, the bike wobbled in perfect balance, his exhilarated laughter ringing out in triumph.

but then the balance tipped — too far back — and the wheel slammed down awkwardly.

yuji, unable to steady himself, tumbled sideways onto the road with a loud thud, his limbs sprawling across the sidewalk. his bike clattered noisily beside him, the bell letting out an inadvertent chime as it hit the ground.

the three of you stopped, a beat of stunned silence passing before laughter broke out simultaneously: nobara had doubled over her handlebars, wheezing as she clutched her side, while you clapped a hand over your mouth, struggling to stifle your snickers. even megumi's usual stoic expression cracked slightly, his lips twitching as he muttered something under his breath and shook his head.

yuji groaned dramatically, sprawled out on the concrete road like a tragic hero, but none of you made a move to help him, not even when he asked.

"guys..." he called out weakly, face scrunched in pain. he extended his arm shakily, eyes half-lidded. "help..."

you shot a glance at nobara, holding your breath to try and stop yourself from snorting out another round of laughs, before turning your bike around and cycling away.

"just go, leave him," you hurriedly told her, your legs working quickly on the pedals of your bike.

yuji lifted his head.

she did not hesitate in following suit.

"we warned you!" she called out with a wide grin.

megumi had not said a word as he, too, seemed to agree with the both of you, his feet pressing down on the pedals a little faster.

"go, don't look back," you muttered, kicking off your bikes to continue cycling down the road.

you laughed merrily as his calls of protest grew faint the further you rode away, leaving him to flail on the ground, loudly lamenting his fate.

but of course, you weren't evil — perhaps nobara was, though — for you and megumi had turned on your bikes to get him, and she had been the only one who let out a groan of exhaustion at the mere thought of it.

but the funniest part wasn't the way you'd found yuji lying on the road in the exact same way you'd left him, nor was it the way his eyes had lightened up at the sight of you...

it was how he had remained firm on giving you all the silent treatment the rest of the way to his house, and how he had been struggling to do so, for if anyone was an expert, qualified chatter, it was yuji itadori.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

the football field stretched wide under the fading light, its green expanse marked with crisp white lines that gleamed faintly in the late afternoon. you were standing on the bench at the front row, watching the football players dart across the field.

it was jujutsu high's open game for the football team, which (by the school's definition) was a practice session open for the general school public to attend.

your eyes followed the ball as it sailed through the air, a blur of motion intercepted by a leaping player — chad, you noticed with raised brows, as the whistle from coach yaga encouraged the rest of the team to push forward.

your eyes had scoured the players in search of your friends. you couldn't exactly tell who was who because of the uniform and helmet that would conceal both their bodies and their faces, so you could only rely on their player numbers displayed on both the fronts and backs of their jerseys.

player number one — who was currently sprinting alongside massive player number six — was yuji. you never bothered him when he concentrated on the game. you usually saved the disturbance for when he'd done something to piss you off (like intentionally telling your spanish teacher that you deleted duolingo off your phone to spare some storage).

player number two was who you were really looking for, and it only brought a smile to your face when you'd found him — megumi — sprinting the other way.

"you're going the wrong way, megumi!" you helpfully reminded him.

he ignored you, as per usual. but you noticed, with triumph, how his legs had started to slow down.

beneath his helmet, you were certain he was gritting his teeth.

"the ball's that's way!" you called out, one hand cupping the side of your mouth, the other benevolently pointing at player number eight, who was now in possession of the ball. "what are you doing?"

megumi had approached coach yaga, and from where you were stood, accompanied by the chatter of the other onlookers, you could not hear what was being exchanged between the two. the sharp glare that coach yaga had shot you was a lot to go by, however, not that you cared.

you hadn't cared in middle school, you wouldn't care now.

yaga knew that very well.

megumi turned away and had begun jogging towards his teammates again. you shook your head, your foot tapping the metal of the bench impatiently.

"well it's too late for that now!" you told him, tutting in disapproval. "they've gone and scored without you! oh — hi toge!"

player number six, todo, was a towering presence, and you watched as he charged across the field with the ball tucked firmly under his arm, shrugging off attempted tackles like they were nothing more than minor inconveniences. close behind, yuji darted around the defence with his usual agility, his movements quick and unpredictable, drawing shouts of encouragement from somewhere behind you, because — right, that was a thing now — he had gained quite a few admirers over the last week, not that he had been aware of it. the only reason you knew was because of an occasion last week where you and nobara had camped inside a singular stall in the girls' toilets, overhearing a conversation between a few sophomores and juniors.

megumi was now in possession of the ball, and though he wasn't as speedy as yuji, he excelled in the game by being strategic, which compensated for the lack of agility.

he's doing well, you thought to yourself. it was too bad you enjoyed poking fun at him.

you exaggeratedly waved both arms in the air as if directing imaginary traffic, calling out random, unhelpful advice about the game. his head had turned for a fraction of a second, and that had been enough to encourage you to go further.

"quick! the small one's behind you!" you called out, your expression grave. you chuckled when he actually looked over his shoulder. "haha! made you look —"

"— l/n!"

your eyes travelled across the field to meet yaga's, shielded by his sunglasses. he didn't look pleased in the slightest, but he hadn't said anything else when you stared back at him.

your name was his first warning.

you shrugged and turned back to the game, mimicking a referee's whistle sound — poorly, of course — just to see if it would make megumi glance your way again.

it didn't, but you had not missed the way he'd quickened his steps, an act to try and free himself from being forced to listen to your constant shouts and yells.

"megumi! spell red!" you called out to him, your hands cupping your mouth. he turned around and narrowed his eyes at you, a menacing glint circling in each of his irises. "no? okay, i'll do it for you! L — S — T — E — R —"

the field erupted with laughter.

number six, todo, was the first to lose it, nearly doubling over as he slapped his thigh, while yuji could barely stay upright, clutching his sides and wheezing between gasps of air. the entire team seemed to pause, their focus on the game completely derailed, as they recalled the viral meme and the ridiculousness of your performance.

yaga, however, was not amused. he blew his whistle sharply, barking at the players to get back into formation, his forehead veins looking like they might burst at any second.

"keep laughing, and you'll all be running laps until the sun sets!" he roared, but his threats only managed to stifle the laughter into barely concealed snickers. "and you — stop opening that damned mouth of yours!"

meanwhile, megumi shot you a glare so venomous, it could have melted steel. his fists clenched at his sides, and you could see the subtle rise and fall of his shoulders as he tried to rein in his irritation.

"stop," he snapped, his voice dripping with exasperation.

"all right, all right," you sighed, before cupping your mouth again. "spell megumi! T — O — J — Y!"

megumi stood in the centre of the grassy field, arms by his sides, like a child refusing to comply to rules. you could see the way his jaw had clenched at your joke.

he had always had this incessant need to be right. to correct you when you were wrong. to show off his brilliance.

you could see him fighting a losing battle.

"that's not how you spell my dad's name —" he'd started angrily, but the sound of yaga's whistle had cut through anything you had wanted to say in response.

"IS THIS THE SPELLING BEE?" he demanded, irate. "fushiguro!" he'd all but bellowed, teeth gritted. "why are your legs not moving?"

megumi turned to face his teacher.

"she spelled my dad's name wrong —"

"IS YOUR DAD HERE TO BEAR WITNESS?"

"..."

"GET BACK TO YOUR TEAMMATES!"

megumi had made a move to leave, but at the sound of your snickers, he stopped, lifting his arm and pointing it in your direction.

"kick her out," he'd said — correction: demanded — without hesitation.

your mouth fell open in sheer disbelief, arms extended outwards in confusion as you glared at megumi like he'd just committed the ultimate betrayal.

kick you out? the audacity, you mentally marvelled.

you weren't even on the field, which you could've easily invaded if you had wanted to. you were merely offering a bit of moral support (albeit in your own unique, slightly chaotic way).

"that's a breach of my human rights," you alerted both your teacher and your friend. then, you shifted your attention to only coach yaga. "he's not even participating! personally, i think he should be benched!"

"l/n, sit down and SHUT UP!"

"no, seriously!" you insisted, crouching down to untie your shoelaces. "i can replace him on the field!"

megumi turned around again to face you this time. even though his helmet made it hard to see his face properly, you could see the way he'd narrowed his eyes at you. "you don't even know how to play properly —"

"well i'd do a hell of a lot better than what you're doing," you told him, standing up again and folding your arms over your chest. "which is nothing, by the way."

coach yaga had had enough:

"FUSHIGURO, STOP ENGAGING WITH HER AND MOVE UP THE FIELD!"

megumi faced the angry man with, no doubt, a glare of his own. "she's —"

"NOW!" yaga had bellowed, and you could only laugh at the way megumi's fists had clenched, but he'd obediently ran towards the other players (not without shooting you a glower, though).

you chuckled at his reaction, but choked on it when coach yaga had mercilessly turned to you next.

"SIT. DOWN. L/N," he ordered you, the hand holding the whistle lined with angry veins threatening to pop. you could see one on his forehead, too.

you opened your mouth to oppose, but he'd blown his whistle so you couldn't even hear yourself speak.

and this had become a recurring theme.

any time your lips would part — whether to cheer for a play, yell sarcastic advice at megumi, or protest yaga's increasingly dictatorial tone — the sharp, ear-piercing sound of his whistle cut through the air, drowning you out completely. he'd positioned himself nearby, whistle ready at his lips, as though waiting for the exact moment you dared to utter a sound.

you even tried whispering once, only for him to blow it louder than ever, causing you to flinch and clutch your ears.

the message was clear: coach yaga would not tolerate your antics.

but his overzealous whistle-blowing had unintended consequences, ones that had you giggling into your hands.

the players, accustomed to the whistle being a signal for key game instructions, had begun growing confused by the constant interruptions. at one point, both kamo and logan parker hesitated mid-play, unsure whether the sharp whistle had been meant to signal an offside or something else entirely, and this had led to an awkward collision on the field — logal tripping over kamo as the latter tried to pivot too late — and the two of them ended up sprawled in a tangled heap.

and yaga, visibly frustrated by both the situation at hand and the rhythm of your constant laughter, had no choice but to bench them both, muttering something about how some people were ruining his practice.

"your hair's a mess," you told kamo, when he'd approached the bench you were standing on with his helmet beneath his arm.

"thanks, didn't notice," he responded, blowing the loose strands of his hair out of his face.

you eyed him carefully as he sat by your feet, his knees an angry shade of red where he'd fallen due to the collision.

"does that hurt?" you asked, frowning. "you could sue yaga for blowing his whistle and causing confusion."

kamo peered up at you, his elbows resting on his thighs, his back hunched over in such a way that chiropractors would be disappointed by. you couldn't quite paint what he was thinking, for his face, so devoid of any and all emotion, made it so that his lips were set in a straight line and his eyes would remain half-lidded.

"you can!" you continued, as though he'd voiced his uncertainty to you. "and you can show your knees for proof!"

kamo kept his gaze fixed on the game, following the flow of plays that unfolded without him. you couldn't quite paint what he was feeling in that moment, for his expression was a mix of irritation and fatigue as he lazily tossed his helmet to the ground with a dull clatter.

"i'll remember to bring in a formal complaint tomorrow, then," he added, his eyes following player number five, who was in possession of the ball.

"i'll be your backup!" you told him enthusiastically. when he peered up at you, expectant, you clarified yourself. "y'know, for moral support."

"hold my hand and everything?"

you grinned. "all right, don't get ahead of yourself now."

"my bad," he said, bringing a hand up to brush the stray hairs out of his face. his dark hair had been tied back with a flimsy rubber-band into a low, loose bun, which apparently proved worthless in a rough game of football.

at the centre of the field, andre johnson clapped his hands loudly, rallying the players into position as he directed the next play with precision. toge stood further back, his sharp eyes scanning the field, ready to intercept, while todo, living up to his reputation, plowed through the defence like a battering ram, drawing cheers from his teammates.

you felt bad for the players that had ended up on the floor because of his onslaught of attacks.

one of them just so happened to be yuji.

and as you jested loudly at his limp body, todo stared back at him, horrified:

"BROTHER —"

"ooh..." you marvelled, standing on your tip-toes as todo ignored the game altogether and charged the other way. everyone except for megumi had moved out of the way. "might wanna put that one on a leash..."

your eyes had darted from the game to kamo, and back again.

"no offence, kamotionless..."

"none taken."

the two of you watched as megumi extended his hand to your pink-haired, groaning friend on the floor, intrigued as he accepted his help in pulling himself up.

both their heads had turned to face you.

yuji's lips parted in a comical frown, his hand clutching his lower back as he turned to glare at you with all the indignation he could muster. you could only chuckle at him, for his pink hair was dusted with grass and dirt from the collision, and his expression screamed betrayal.

raising one hand, he offered you an exaggerated thumbs-down, shaking it slowly as though to emphasise just how unimpressed he was.

you stared back at him, brow raised as you placed a pointer finger on your chest, mouthing 'me?'.

his exaggerated nod made you scowl at him and look at megumi instead, but his stare wasn't any better, for it had lingered on you longer than necessary: his sharp eyes had darkened as they subtly drifted downwards, his expression tightening ever so slightly, though it was hard to tell if it was irritation or something else entirely.

he was still pissed at your interruption of the game from earlier, clearly, for his stance had been tinged with quiet discontent, as though he'd seen something he didn't quite like.

rude, you thought to yourself, i stopped yelling at him and i'm likeable.

whatever it was, he said nothing, his eyes snapping back to the field with a stoicism that betrayed nothing outwardly.

across the field, yaga's voice thundered over the chaos.

"ITADORI! FUSHIGURO! get back to your positions — NOW!"

yuji jumped slightly at the sheer force of his command, but megumi had barely looked fazed, as though this was a common occurrence during practice.

yuji shot one last mournful look in your direction before jogging into place, his steps a little heavier than before. megumi, on the other hand, walked briskly back into formation, his gaze focused ahead, though the rigid set of his shoulders suggested he wasn't entirely composed. yaga's glare followed them both until they were back in line, his frustration simmering visibly as he blew his whistle to resume the play.

"what's the history with you and coach yaga?" kamo had asked, which had greatly surprised, your brows raised as you stared down at him. he took your silence as a sign to continue. "yuji said you met coach yaga in middle school."

"oh my god," you beamed, hopping off the bench to sit down on it. "i'm so glad you asked!"

you dug into your pocket and retrieved your phone, tapping on it excitedly to pull up the set of images in your camera roll that you'd visit so often, it would never catch dust.

the academic years of twenty-fourteen to twenty-sixteen.

"so i met him in the sixth grade," you explained, selecting an image of him from the time you had unexpectedly pulled your phone out in the middle of the corridor and snapped a headshot. "that's what he looked like back then, so, not that different. still got that weird spiky hairstyle, except it's longer now, but you get the idea."

kamo nodded, his front leaning forward to get a good look at your phone.

"he's angry," he commented idly.

"er... yeah," you confirmed, hesitant. you slowly swiped to the next photo — yaga's realisation of the image being taken. "that's 'cause i took his photo in the middle of the hallway, so..." you shook your head quickly. "but anyway! i met him during our first middle school p.e class. we were playing dodgeball and i was standing at the back to support yuji, even though we'd just met through megumi, but if megumi liked him, then i knew he was good. and then yaga just got mad at me."

kamo watched as you showed him another picture of an angry coach yaga.

"and it was a whole thing," you settled on saying at last. "rest of our time during middle school went by with a theme of pissing yaga off. it's tradition now."

kamo raised a brow, the corner of his lips tugging upwards in mild amusement as he listened.

"sounds like you've had a pretty clear mission since day one," he said, his tone dry but his gaze alight with curiosity. he tilted his head slightly as he regarded the photo on your screen, his hand brushing back a loose strand of hair as he continued. "coach only ever turns red when you're around."

there was no judgment in his voice, just a quiet humour that seemed to match the slight, crooked smile now playing on his face.

without a word, kamo shifted subtly closer to you, leaning in as though to get a better look at the next photo. his arm rested lightly on the bench beside you, and while the movement was casual, the reduced space between you both went unnoticed — or perhaps, just unacknowledged.

you didn't seem to mind at all, and the easy flow of your conversation remained uninterrupted. if anything, the proximity only added to the comfortable rhythm of your storytelling:

"there's actually a legacy," you grinned, swiping several times to get to a particular image. "you know s— mr gojo, miss ieiri, mr nanami, and mr haibara were yaga's students back when they were in school?"

kamo didn't say anything at that. some part of you couldn't blame him, especially when you would constantly spew out nonsense that megumi would immediately shut down in front of everyone.

if you weren't you, you probably wouldn't have believed yourself either.

"at least try to look like you believe me," you scowled.

"no, i do," kamo insisted, though not very convincingly.

"no you don't."

"yeah i don't."

"okay, well, now you will," you stated, showing him the photo you'd been searching for in your packed camera roll.

it was yaga's wedding in january of two-thousand-and-six. you had chosen this particular photo because of the scene in the background: the men you knew dressed sharply in suits and ties, and the women you knew also elegantly adorned in dresses and heels.

"he's married?" kamo asked, looking genuinely surprised. it was the only time you had seen any form of emotion cross his face.

"was married," you corrected him, and then laughed as you zoomed in on his face. "got divorced years ago — look, he's bald!"

as you and kamo continued discussing yaga's wedding, the conversation spiralled into unexpected detail. you pointed out the floral arrangements in the background, commenting on how they looked oddly mismatched with the formal attire of the guests. kamo had raised an eyebrow, countering that maybe yaga had bad taste in decorators. from there, the discussion veered into an animated debate over who had possibly caught the bouquet, with you insisting it was nanami and kamo scoffing at the idea of him even participating.

but just as kamo parted his lips to counter your next argument, yaga's unmistakable voice had cut through the air.

"LOVEBIRDS!" he'd roared, the two of you looking up simultaneously towards the field where yaga stood, hands on his hips, thoroughly exasperated. "FOCUS ON THE GAME, OR LEAVE!"

you pocketed your phone again, glaring at yaga like he'd personally offended you on a cosmic level.

"he's just salty we have luscious hair," you muttered under your breath bitterly. the fact that the entire field had fallen silent didn't deter you from adding more in the slightest. "got a lot of nerve for someone with a wedding album collecting dust..."

unbeknownst to you, chad smirked knowingly, glancing towards kamo with an exaggeratedly teasing expression, waggling his eyebrows as if he'd just uncovered the secret of the universe. kamo, predictably, ignored him entirely, his focus unshaken.

meanwhile, megumi's reaction had been far sharper.

his eyes darted between you and kamo before settling firmly on you, his brow furrowing so deeply it looked like he was judging you for a crime against humanity. his glare lingered, sharp and unyielding, like you'd just desecrated something sacred — which, knowing megumi, might've been the concept of behaving during practice.

"just get him back on the field," he stated firmly, shooting coach yaga a glare.

"kid's right," said yaga, before blowing his whistle again. "KAMO, PARKER — BOTH OF YOU — BACK ON THE FIELD!"

obediently, kamo rose to his feet, brushing off his knees before bending down and retrieving his discarded helmet, and then giving a short, wordless nod to logan parker, who had been waiting nearby.

from the sidelines, yaga's gaze immediately zeroed in on you.

"AND YOU!" he barked, pointing a commanding finger. "stop distracting my players! you've got five seconds to zip it, or you're out of here!" his voice had carried across the field with the same force as his whistle.

you frowned deeply. his reaction felt like an overreaction to you — typical yaga behavior.

but then, the realisation hit you like a sudden spotlight. you glanced at your watch and felt a jolt of panic. you were supposed to stay for only a bit before heading to rehearsal.

"ah, shit! i'm late for rehearsal!" you panicked, hurriedly grabbing your bag and scrambling to leave. the theatre director was definitely not going to forgive you for being late again, especially with the lead role hanging in the balance.

as you ran across the benches, you looked over your shoulder, ignoring the crowd and team laughing at you.

"lady yaga, this is all your fault by the way!"

as you darted towards the building, the teasing chants from the football team had started fading behind you. despite the growing distance between you and them, you could hear yaga cursing you from where he stood, as though he were right next to you.

you were not, however, aware of the two pairs of eyes watching you retreat, one of them mildly amused, the other beyond annoyed.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

bonus scene:

the cracked pavement beneath satoru's feet echoed faintly as he strolled through the unfamiliar neighbourhood.

during a conversation about toji's dark past, he had showed off to the family about never having stolen anything, as well as never being stolen from, which only resulted in ogi demanding that he walk in a sketchier neighbourhood and see if he could come back saying the same thing.

and he had been confident, of course, as he looked around at the graffiti-covered walls and flickering streetlights, which might have seemed intimidating to anyone else, but he remained blissfully unfazed, humming a tune under his breath.

in one hand, he'd held a slightly squished cupcake, the frosting a little smeared but no less delightful to him. his sunglasses perched jauntily on his nose, and his long strides carried him through the shadows as though the neighbourhood itself were lucky to have him gracing its streets.

...

that had been before he'd found himself trapped in a phone-box, the gang that had caused his sealing surrounding the box in awe.

'we seriously stole the gojo guy's money?'

'aw heck yeah! he's filthy rich, too!'

'look at that sleek, black card!'

'awesome! his phone's the new model as well!'

satoru stared at the gang leader, scowling.

his balaclava had fallen when satoru had thrown a punch at him earlier, exposing his tattooed face, the dark line that crossed his nose and the thin arrowed lines that went down his eyes.

satoru thought he looked silly with those pigtails.

"how much are those glasses?" the leader had asked, throwing his balaclava over his shoulder for one of his minions to scramble for.

satoru, his neck bent in an attempt to not bump his head, flashed him a grin.

"more than you can afford."

the guy gritted his teeth at him. satoru felt satisfaction bloom in his chest at that, but he noted how the tattooed male could be no older than seventeen or eighteen. what the hell was he doing as a leader of a gang?

"but you should probably open the door to try and get them," satoru suggested, bending down a little to meet the kid's face.

"i'm not stupid," the kid scowled. he was bagging all of satoru's expensive belongings right in front of him.

"if you were smart, you wouldn't style your hair like a five year old girl."

"if you were smart, you would dye your hair."

satoru scowled at him. "if you continued your education, you wouldn't need to join a gang for money."

the kid didn't look too pleased with satoru's rapid riposte, for he looked around at his minions, slinging the bag of satoru's possessions over his shoulder, and turning away with a raised brow.

"come and get your stuff," he had challenged the trapped, white-haired male, who could only watch in anger as one of the minions marvelled at his stolen cupcake.

his cupcake.

satoru let out an exaggerated groan, his head lightly thudding against the very top of the glass wall of the phone box as he tilted his chin to the ceiling (that happened to be so very close to his face).

this was beyond annoying; his cupcake was gone, his wallet and phone stolen, and now he was cramped into this tiny, outdated relic of communication...

but then, a flicker of excitement sparked across his face, the edges of his mouth curling upwards.

out of all the traps he could've been stuck in, it had to be a phone box. how retro. how tragically iconic.

with a sigh, he tapped the dusty dial pad, punching in one of the numbers he knew by heart: shoko's.

the faint hum of the dial tone filled the tiny space as he leaned back, arms crossed, waiting with a fading grin to hear her undoubtedly sarcastic greeting.

but it had been taking a while.

"this is such a pain," he grumbled to himself, annoyed.

and then looked up excitedly when her voice sounded through the speaker.

"hello?"

"shoko, i'm trapped in a phone box 'cause some poor kid with his gang jumped me," he explained hurriedly. it wasn't a completely accurate retelling of the story, but it got the main gist of it, and he was punched for time. "i need your help!"

there was a pause. was she seriously contemplating helping him?

"..."

"shoko?"

"hm," she hummed, her voice nasally. it usually got like that when she was working. "have you returned my lighter?"

satoru furrowed his brows. he had never promised to give that back, not when he hated it when she smoked.

"no —"

BEEEEEEP...

she had hung up.

satoru angrily punched in the numbers of another friend, one who had to be more sensible than her.

"hope she has an asthma attack," he cursed quietly, as he expectantly waited for nanami to pick up the phone.

"kento nanami, who's calling?"

as formal as ever; satoru expected no less. had he been in a better predicament, he would have made a joke about it.

"nanami!" he cheered, and then hurriedly got to the point. perhaps he ought to go a different route, if only to avoid the same outcome with smoke-addict-shoko. "remember when i helped you pay for yuu's birthday expenses?"

he heard him let out a breathy sigh from the other end of the call.

"what's this about, gojo?" he asked, sounding exhausted.

satoru explained his situation as best as he could. he had high hopes for this call — nanami was always the serious, sensible one. there was no way he'd turn him down now.

"you're stuck in a phone box with no way out?" he repeated, though even nanami wouldn't be able to fake amusement even if he tried. satoru felt his stomach drop. "what a shame."

BEEEEEEP...

and he was left with that same ringing beep...

no, the next one would work. he was certain of it.

the kfc disagreement might have occurred a year or two ago, but it was all right. satoru knew that.

they were best friends, after all.

he hurriedly pressed suguru's phone number into the dial and waited.

and waited.

and waited...

...and waited...

and then gave up.

i would've picked up his call, he thought to himself bitterly, before dialling the fushiguros' telephone.

he prayed to god that megumi would answer, and not —

"erm... hello!"

you.

he found you funny, a great kid, one to match the zenins' wit in every way. but you could be so very... chatty.

especially when he didn't have the time.

"y/n, i'm trapped in a phone box 'cause of some sketchy kids in a gang," he explained, though something in his gut knew that this was futile, "where's megumi's mom? where's your mom? in the event that she'd even care —"

"my mom is —"

but you had paused, for megumi's voice had entered the line, but distant:

"i know you stole my book, y/n. give it back."

"i didn't — ugh! satoru, i can't talk to you right now 'cause i'm in the middle of making fun of megumi 'cause he said i stole his boring, non-fiction book when i didn't —"

"— yeah i don't give a shit, where's your mom?" he interrupted, because there was only so much he could take.

your gasp on the other end of the line was telling.

and it came as no surprise to him when you hung up as revenge:

"oh you— okay! bye!"

"wait, y/n —"

BEEEEEEP...

"oh for fucks —" he began, but kept his cool as he pictured his wife. his wife who, surely, would help him. she was his only hope at this point, because if not her, then it had to be ogi.

if not her, then it had to be toji.

he shivered at the thought.

he waited for her to pick up.

"hello? who is this?"

he had no time to waste.

there was a long pause after satoru's rushed explanation, the muffled static on the other end of the line filling the silence. he leaned forwards slightly, gripping the receiver, his hope wavering as the seconds stretched on. surely, his wife was gearing up for some clever solution, for she was smart, he remembered that well during high school and college — or at least, that's what he convinced himself of.

then came the sound of her laughter.

it started low, building into something unrestrained and far too amused for his liking.

and before he could say or do anything else, she ended the call with a click, hanging up the phone herself. satoru stood there, staring at the receiver in disbelief, the faint beep of the disconnected line mocking him.

BEEEEEEP...

reluctantly, he had called both ogi and toji next, and each regret stung more than the last. ogi sounded all too pleased by the event, and had hung up to, no doubt, inform everyone he knew of 'the gojo heir' being a victim of mugging.

toji's brutal honesty hit harder.

his voice had been laced with smug amusement, delivering one dismissive insult after another before abruptly cutting the call. by the time the phone clicked silent again, satoru felt something he rarely experienced — genuine, soul-deep irritation.

with a frustrated growl, satoru clenched his fist and swung it towards the glass, the impact reverberating through the phone box.

a sharp crack echoed as small fractures spread across the surface, and a few shards broke loose, tumbling to the ground.

he flexed his fingers, inspecting the streaks of red beginning to stain his knuckles. the sight annoyed him more than the pain — bleeding wasn't part of the plan. still, the partial break in the glass was hopeful, and he prepared himself for another attempt.

as he paused to assess his next move, his gaze caught on a young blonde-haired girl walking along the street nearby. she couldn't have been older than you or megumi, about ten, her small figure striking against the gritty surroundings.

desperation took over as he called out to her, motioning with his uninjured hand. the girl stopped and turned towards him, but her wide, wary eyes said it all — she clearly thought he was some sort of lunatic. satoru would have tried to understand his viewpoint if he wasn't so irritated with his situation.

she hesitated, clutching her backpack tighter, and stared at him as though deciding whether to run or stay.

"you're a pedo!" she'd decided altogether, which only got satoru to clench his jaw at her.

his neck was starting to hurt with how the height of the phone box had bent him at its will.

"i'm not a pedo, and if i was, you'd be safe, you blonde, bob-headed, little shit."

she furrowed her brows at him, but she'd taken several steps closer, which told him that there was a certain level of trust there between them.

"i'm trapped," he explained, for the eighth time. he looked around and saw a discarded hammer on the dusty floor. "get that hammer and pass it to me through the hole i made."

"my mom told me not to speak to strangers," said the child, her white dress notable in comparison to all the dust and dirt surrounding them.

"your mom also left you unattended in this sketchy neighbourhood," said satoru, brows raised. "you think her opinion matters? help me out."

the child still seemed reluctant. satoru groaned loudly.

"i'll buy you a cupcake."

she ran over to the hammer and presented it to him. satoru encouraged her to push it through the hole, but the way she was looking at it made him pause.

and he was right to do so, for she unexpectedly held it over her head, and then slammed it into the glass window, his hands immediately going over his head to prevent the glass from cutting into his face and sensitive areas.

"sick," he marvelled, as she continued to smash up the glass.

and after a little more smashing, she had finally had her fun and handed the hammer over to satoru through a much wider hole.

he took it gratefully, looking down at her through his round glasses with his head tilted.

"might wanna step back, kid," he warned her, before releasing all his pent-up anger on the phone box, enough to smash its front in a way that made it unrecognisable.

he stepped out, throwing the hammer away, leaving it discarded somewhere forgettable behind him.

"i'm getting my stuff back."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

the gang gathered around satoru's possessions with wide eyes, each of them marvelling at the loot they'd just stolen. the leader, with a smug grin on his face, rifled through his wallet, fascinated by the sleek, black card inside.

"this guy's loaded," he muttered to himself, feeling more than a little victorious, for there had been four different sleek cards, and he was certain if they chose to rob his house next, they'd find more.

his fingers hovered over satoru's phone, still in pristine condition despite the earlier struggle.

the rest of the gang members, too, admired the items with greedy satisfaction.

but their smugness was short-lived.

in a blur, everything around them seemed to freeze for a moment, only to snap back into chaos. one second, they were standing in the middle of the street, basking in their victory, and the next — a flash of white filled their vision.

it was as if the world had shifted, disorienting them completely. the last thing they saw was satoru's towering presence, the white of his hair and his eyes like blinding light.

then, with only one warning from one of the members ("guys, he's coming! he's coming!"), they found themselves in a dark alley, each of them battered and exhausted, sprawled out on the ground.

the gang leader himself could taste blood in his mouth, his head swimming as he tried to piece together what had just happened in the space of five minutes. his body screamed in pain, the bruises already beginning to form, and his mind struggled to understand the impossible speed of the attack.

they hadn't stood a chance.

satoru stood over him now, his foot casually pressing down on the younger man's face, pinning him to the ground with alarming ease. his grin was feral, manic — a dangerous gleam in his eyes.

his possessions, now securely back in his grasp, were scattered around him, including the cupcake, which he held up to his lips, barely noticing the bloodstained mess of the street around him. his body was tense, like a coiled spring, filled with untamed energy as he looked down at the leader with barely-contained excitement...

there was something unnerving about the way he was smiling — something wild and unhinged, as if the fight, the chase, and the thrill had unlocked something primal within him. he was terrifying, but utterly in control of himself, and the chaos surrounding him.

"heh," he laughed to himself, throwing the bag over his shoulder. "i get why toji used to do this all the time. look at your faces!"

he eyed them all, noticing one thing they all had in common. he laughed loudly.

they were all japanese.

"what is this, the yakuza?" he joked, taking a bite out of his cupcake.

he deserved more sweet treats, he decided. perhaps he would go downtown to treat himself again.

his eyes had landed on the very criminal that had taken his cupcake intentionally. he walked away from the gang leader and bent down to present it to him again.

"want a bite?" he teased.

when he didn't respond, satoru stood up straight again.

"what, you scared?"

but despite asking the question, he didn't wait for a response. instead, he turned around, spotting the little, blonde girl that had helped him out, and walked off without looking back.

"go back to school," he advised them. "you guys are shit criminals."

satoru strolled over to the little blonde girl, who looked up at him expectantly, her bright eyes wide and curious. her expression was a mix of confusion and caution, as though she wasn't quite sure what to make of the strange man who had just singlehandedly obliterated a gang.

satoru, unfazed, reached into his wallet with a casual flick of his wrist, extracting a five-dollar bill. he held it out to her with a grin, his earlier manic energy fading into something far more playful.

"here, kid. get yourself something nice," he said with a wink.

"my name's hana," she told him, taking the bill. "hana kurusu."

he raised his brows at her.

"good to know," he'd said, and without waiting for a reply, turned on his heel, the faintest chuckle escaping his lips as he walked away.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

notes: turns out my law exam i told you about went super well (got an A, woohoo!) and i was being dramatic lmao. so half this chapter was scenes i knew you’d be happy with, the other half was a lot of kamo, which i knew a lot of you hate me for, but it had to be done ‘cause i was right about the shit sociology test :/ lmao anyway, this was basically just some filler hahaa (with semi-plot!) 😼

previous chapter :)

next chapter :)

taglist (send an ask or comment to be added):

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© tojiscrack (previously ack4rwoman)

i do not own any of the characters of jjk, i only own the character of y/n and her mother. the other characters belong to gege akutami.

if you enjoyed my writing, i’d really appreciate it if you tipped me — tumblr no longer has the tip function, so maybe here in my tip jar :)

[thewertsearch]

TG: then the cage bunny came TG: he gave us the bomb

Just about. It was very much touch-and-go for a minute there.

Liv really is proving to be the MVP of this session's endgame. Mad props to whoever programmed her AI, whether it was the Pen-Pal, his arm-twister, or some fourth party.

Come to think of it, the mystery surrounding her origin means that we don't really know where Liv's true allegiances lie. She's been helpful so far, but we should probably keep a close eye on her, going forward.

TG: we were talking about who should go TT: Do you remember what we decided? […] TG: wasnt i going to go TG: is that what happened did i go and now im dead TT: Not quite.

Oh, god, hang on a second.

I've just realized what Rose is actually doing here. She isn't just planning to leave with the Tumor - she's already gone, and she's stalling Dave's dream projection so he doesn't try and bring her back.

And to think I called her sinister for this. Rose, I am genuinely sorry.

TT: Do you remember anything else? […] TT: What about why you went to fight Jack? […] TG: yeah i saw my future self fighting him so obviously that had to happen or else id be dead anyway TG: without even getting the satisfaction of standing up to him TT: So was your decision a result of desire or obligation?

Excellent question.

Dave's wanted to take the fight to Jack for a while - and I don't think it was just because AR was whispering in his ear. The guy's spent a long time feeling like a sidekick, and I believe there's a part of him who wants to prove otherwise - to do 'what heroes should be doing'.

I mean, he just said it himself, didn't he? Dave thinks that fighting Jack would be satisfying.

So yes, I think a part of him did desire this fight - and if my 'responsive timeline' theory is correct, then his desire influenced how the Alpha timeline evolved, causing his fight with Jack to be set in stone. I'm sure he had second thoughts, once he saw how it was going to end - but by then, it was too late to back out.

In short: I think Dave's decision was originally a result of desire, but it became obligation.

TG: hard to explain TG: with all the time shit going on TG: i dont try to understand your light shit do i TT: I don't know much about the Light Shit, to be honest. TT: I may have missed my chance to figure it out.

Spoken like a girl who thinks she’s about to die.

[courtneywritesstuff]

Off The Hook - Bob Floyd x Reader

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Reader

Summary: Bob and you had a great relationship. Until he left you behind to join a mission but now he's back and back in a squad with you. How will that interaction go and how will you cope with the new dynamic in the group that your complicated relationship creates.

Reader Call Sign : Ghost

Warnings: MDNI - 18+ (No smut in this pic but suggestive content.) Bob being a bit of an ass. Female reader. Angst. Not proofread and my first fic I've posted so let me know if anything needs editing.

Let me know if I forgot anything, also should I do a part 2?

Word Count : 2.4k

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Your POV:

I stood wiping down the bar counter in the Hard Deck, it was a hot day which wasn’t out of the ordinary in any shape or form for the San Diego base. It had been 2 years since the Dagger Squad was all together and 18 months since I left naval aviation behind me. I picked up shifts working at the bar so I could still see some friends that hung around after the mission and I lived nearby in an apartment I shared with Phoenix. She had been my rock these past 18 months and got me through some of the hardest weeks of my life. Sometimes I sat on the balcony and watched as the planes flew around throughout the day and felt a pang in my chest of wanting to return but then I remember who I was hiding from and the crash out leaving had caused me and I out my jacket on and head over to the bar.

Who caused my exit from my dream career I hear you ask?

Bob Floyd, call sign: Bob. 

The love and loss of my life. After the dagger mission we were happier than ever and then the call came for him to relocate and take on a new mission, I wanted to stay and build our lives together. Give ourselves a home base where we could grow a family. He told me I was holding him back and myself back if we didn’t take this opportunity, but it wasn’t our opportunity, not really. Maybe my ego got in the way and I was upset he didn’t do what I wanted but it caused him to leave in the middle of the night with not so much as a kiss goodbye. All I got was a letter taped to the fridge for me to find the next morning when I woke up. 

I was pulled from my thoughts when I heard the door open to the bar.

“Bar’s not open for another few hours,” I call over my shoulder, hoping whoever it is walks away and then I hear the voice.

“I wasn’t here for a drink anyway, just a catch-up chat” Maverick says as he walks up to the bar tapping it with an open palm when he reaches it. 

“What are you doing here Mav?” I turned around again and carried on wiping the bar counter.

“What? Can’t an old man come check on one of his favourite pilots he’s ever trained?”

“Okay, if you’re sweet talkin me then I know you’re up to something. Go on spit it out.”

“Come back Ghost, we need you.”

“I’m out Mav, have been for 18 months, I don’t even think I remember how to fly a plane.” I leaned against the bar facing him now with my hip propped out. I fiddled with the washcloth as my mind raced thinking about all the things I wanted to ask him.

“Now that I know is a lie. Look kid, whatever you’re running from is going to catch up with you eventually, just think about it.” He stood off the bar stool and placed his sunglasses just on the bridge of his nose “Did I mention Bob is coming back for this one?” He said as he turned on to his heels and headed for the door.

“That’s not the selling point you think it is!” I called out after him and watched as the doors swung shut. 

I must’ve stood there for another 20 minutes just stuck in my thoughts because before I knew it Phoenix was stood in front of me snapping me out of it.

“Hey there, welcome back to reality,” She quipped at me.

“Bob’s back,” I muttered as I spun around to grab a beer for her.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean he’s back, and Maverick is too. He came in here, wants me to join the team again.” I open the glass bottle and place it in front of her.

“And? What did you say?”

“I said no Phoenix, that life is behind me. I’m out, no more deadly missions for me.”

“You’re thinking about it thought right,”

“Of course I am,” I laughed out as I grabbed a beer for myself as well.

“It might be nice to see him again, you know, get some closure.” Phoenix suggested.

“Oh no, absolutely not, the time for closure was a long time ago. I want to make him regret it.” I said as I walked out the bar into the bright heat of summer.

“Oh boy, here we go,” Phoenix jumped up following me.

A Few Weeks Later 

Getting back in was the easy part, it was getting used to the planes again and feeling like I was part of the team that I was struggling with. Hangman was back along with Fanboy and Rooster, Coyote walked into the locker rooms next and then Payback walked in engaged in a thrilling conversation with Bob. Bob looked up at the room and his eyes caught yours for a millisecond before he looked back down at the floor. Hangman walked up to you and bent down to speak in your ear. “You know for what it's worth he didn’t shut up about you while we were out there,”

“Yea, well that’s on him.” I bit back at him, arms crossed over my chest as I sat down on a bench against a wall of lockers,

“Feisty as ever Ghost. See you out there.”

Everyone was filing out of the locker room as I unpacked my bag into the locker. Spare clothes, towels, everything I’d need on base to throw myself back into this job.

“You never did pack light,” His voice was light-hearted and soft as it always had been,

“Yeah, I guess some things don’t change.” 

“You certainly haven’t, you look good.”

“Don’t. Just don’t. I’m back to get my career going again and that’s it, I didn’t come back for you Bob.” I said through a tight jaw as my hands balled into nervous fists.

“I know, I have no right to ask this, but can we at least have a drink and talk, I feel like I owe you a conversation at least.” 

“A conversation? Bob, you owed me that a long time ago but hey I moved on, and I ran away from my problems sure. I’m back now and no I don’t want to sit and chat to you about how you took my heart and shattered it so hard that I’m still trying to pick up pieces!” Tears had started to fall down my cheeks now, but I didn’t care, I hope it hurt him seeing me like this and knowing that he was what had caused it. 

I pushed passed him ignoring his call for me to stop and made my way into the briefing room, I sat next to Phoenix. She noticed my tears straight away and shot Bob a glare as he entered the room and slumped into the only seat left next to Rooster. Maverick walked across the open space in front of the room “Welcome back everyone, let’s do this.” He said as he started the mission briefing. It wasn’t a simple mission by any means and required us to be training for at least 6 weeks before go time but to be honest the thoughts of Bob racing through my head made it hard to concentrate. 

The Dagger squad was sat around the pool tables at Hard deck for some reunion drinks. I couldn’t bring myself to miss it because the truth was, I had missed all of them. I’d missed our nightly meetings playing pool and darts and dancing around the bar while Rooster played the piano. That being said I did need a little liquid courage to get through the night and maybe just maybe I had a shot too many. The shirt I was wearing bounced around as Hangman and I danced around to whatever 80s song was playing throughout the bar. I felt Bob’s eyes looking at me and without even seeing it I could practically feel him trying to take Hangman down with his eyes. When I stumbled and fell into my dance partners arms to keep myself from landing on the floor, that’s when I felt another set of hands on my waist, a set of hands that felt all too familiar. Bob and Jake put me down on a stool close by as I giggled into my drink. “Jesus, how much have you drunk tonight?” Bob started before Jake cut him off. 

“I don’t think you’re the person she needs a lecture from right now man.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m just saying that she’s a big girl and she can choose to do whatever she wants,”

“Exactly! Thank you, Hangman. See Bob, he gets it.” I hiccupped and had to concentrate on not falling over off the stool.

“Come on, I’ll take you home on my way.” Bob said turning away from me to pick up our jackets,

“I don’t want to go though”.

“You can’t stay in this state, you can barely stand up. Come on,” He tried to pick me up by guiding my arm up, but I pulled away. That’s when Jake stepped in and the whole night went to shit. “She said she wants to stay Bob.”

“Listen here, I’m not leaving her here when she’s this drunk. I need to know she’s safe.”

“We’ll watch out for her.” Phoenix tried to de-escalate the situation, but Bob and Jake were getting closer and closer, and it looked as if Bob was about to punch him.

“She’s not yours anymore, you made that choice man, you need to accept it now.” Jake said picking up a pool cue and walking towards the table.

“On that note maybe, I will go home.” I stood up suddenly feeling very aware that the almost fight was about me and while I was flattered that Jake stood up for me, it was probably best to get home before I get kicked out.

I hugged Phoenix and gave the others a wave before letting Bob guide me through the busy bar. My arm was intertwined with his so I could keep my balance and when we got to his truck, and he helped me into the passenger seat. The drive back to my apartment was quiet, neither of us daring to speak after the tension at the bar. 

Bob was the first one to speak “Do you like him?”

The question genuinely shocked me and confused me in equal measures.

“Do I like who?”

“Jake, I saw how you laughed and danced with him tonight,”

“So what if I did Bob, you left me remember.” It might have been the alcohol that spoke instead of my logical brain but oh well, it was said now.

“I know and I regret it every day,”

“Why?”

“You were the best thing that ever happened to me, and I let you go over some silly mission.”

“That’s not what hurt me Bob, what hurt me was you leaving without saying anything. A note was all I got after we had planned a future and a life together. I would’ve supported you eventually I just needed time to figure things out- “ 

“- They wanted an answer then and there and I gave it. I didn’t want to argue, and I kept thinking that if I didn’t make it back from that mission then the last time, I saw you had to be peaceful. I couldn’t have the last view of you be of you crying or screaming at me, so I left.” I sat in silence as a few tears fell down both our cheeks for the rest of the drive.

The truck stopped in front of my building and Bob walked round to help me out. I took his hand and let him guide me to my floor. We both stepped out of the elevator, and I gave him a small wave before opening my door directly across from it. I was definitely drunk and emotional because I did the one thing I promised myself I wouldn’t do. I left the door open as I walked through to the living room. I heard the door close behind me and when I turned around there was Bob stood on the inside of my now closed apartment door. He took his jacket off and folded it neatly over the back of the sofa, I walked over to him slowly, stopping just as our faces were inches apart.

“This is a bad idea.” I whispered looking up into his icy blue eyes.

“What makes it a bad idea?”

“Exes shouldn’t do this. It complicates things.” 

“Please, we’re already complicated. What’s one more complication.” 

And with that I pressed my lips to his, slow at first while my hands found their way up his neck into his hair. His hands wrapped their way in my hair and pulled me deeper into the kiss, “We should stop,” I mutter in between kisses with him. He nods his head as he kisses back, and it doesn’t stop us as we walk towards my bedroom in the dimly lit apartment. 

Bob’s POV

I woke before her, her head resting on my chest, and she only quietly muttered when I moved her so I could get out of the bed. I pulled a pair of shorts I had left here on, surprised she’d kept anything of mine after what I did. I quietly shuffled out the room and towards the kitchen when I heard movement. Nat stood at the counter pouring a cup of coffee, I froze in my tracks when she made eye contact with me. 

“Don’t break her heart again, she really does love you.” She almost whispered to me and handed me the warm cup of coffee to take to the bedroom.

“I won’t, I’ve got a lot to make up for.” I walked back towards the room and was surprised to find her awake and pulling an oversized t shirt over her frame.

She shot me a defiant look over her shoulder and then smiled as she crossed her arms and popped her hip out to the side.

“Just because you gave me a great night last night and brought me coffee this morning does not mean you’re off the hook.” 

I smiled back at her and wrapped her in a strong hug placing a kiss to her forehead.

“I’ll fix us, I promise.”

[plussizefantasia]

CozyTober Day 7: Fresh Baked Goods

Bucky Barnes x wife!reader

wc: 0.9k

warnings: anxiety induced baking

an: this was one of my favorites and now I have a few more ideas of what I should bake this month hehe. Reblog if you enjoyed, I'll see you tomorrow for Day 8!

Since you were old enough to use the stove unsupervised baking has been your main way to get rid of stress. The way that it captured all your focus and kept your hands busy made it the prime choice for distraction in moments of chaos. 

When finals week would roll around you would be drowning in all sorts of breads, cookies, muffins, and pastries. You had resorted to donating them to a local soup kitchen whenever you could, or forcing them off on your friends, teachers whoever would take them really.

The habit had not broken in adulthood, though you were now more mindful about other ways to cope, when the stress got to be a little too much you resorted to finding a new recipe and firing up the oven. 

And your husband going on two week-long missions where he wasn’t allowed to contact you was a great example of the stress becoming too much. Currently, the little kitchen in the townhome the two of you had bought together last year was absolutely covered in all kinds of goodies. You had some pumpkin rolls, several batches of apple cinnamon muffins, caramel apple cookies, apple turnovers, and some pumpkin and chocolate chip loaf. 

You were rolling out the four sheets of pie dough you had prepared for the various flavors of filling that are currently cooling in your fridge. Suffice to say that you had overdone it but you really had nothing else to do. 

You had finished all the cleaning there was to do the first week he had been gone, and you didn’t want to mindlessly watch the shows on your list because you promised Bucky you wouldn’t watch them without him. You had gone through your entire closet and pulled out things you could donate, you had asked for more tasks from work and then promptly finished all of those too. 

You had nothing to distract yourself, so you resorted to baking. You knew the treats would get eaten, either by your husband’s team or the people at your own work if they were left in the breakroom. But you’re not really sure how much longer this can go on before it’s considered an actual problem.

Luckily and unbeknownst to you, you wouldn’t have anything to be worried about in a few hours, because your husband would walk through your front door. 

Bucky hated blackout missions, not only did he think the whole concept was paranoid and that was a lot coming from him, but he had people to miss now. He had ties to the real world, ones he didn’t feel entirely comfortable abandoning for two weeks even if you’d talked about it before he left.

He worked hard to get the job done as soon as possible and told Ross to shove it when the general had asked him to stick around for one more day so he could complete the mission debrief. That was Sam’s job anyway, the type of bureaucratic responsibility that came along with the stars and stripes plastered across his chest. 

So he shed himself off his mission gear, changed into his civvies, and hopped on his motorcycle. He didn't wait a second before revving it up and coming home to you. 

He did not expect however to open the door and be assaulted with the smell of cinnamon, nutmeg, and clove. He sighed and shook his head with a smile, mentally preparing himself for the sight of his kitchen being turned into a bakery.

You didn’t hear the door open, too busy humming along to the Fred Astaire record spinning on the table in the corner. You didn’t notice Bucky slipping off his boots or hanging up his jacket. You didn’t hear the padding of his feet as he made his way to the kitchen and you didn’t notice when he propped himself up against the door frame and took in the sight of your baking breakdown.

You did however hear his slightly teasing lilt of “Honey, I’m home.” 

You spin to face the voice and let out an undignified squeal. You spin around looking for a place where you can set the hot pan in your hand and give up, practically throwing it back into the oven before taking a running start and launching yourself at him

His deep chuckle blesses your ears and you dig your nose into his chest taking a big breath of something that can only be described as Bucky. 

“You’re home!” yelled muffled by his chest.

He ran a hand down the back of your head over his hand, “You baked.”

You pull back and look sheepishly at him, hoping that the kisses you scatter across his face will distract him from the abundance of carbs behind you.

It doesn’t work. The two of you eat muffins for breakfast every day for the next two weeks, Bucky takes some of the treats to the base with him and says the trainees are grateful but that the sugar makes them annoying. You bring some of what’s left to your own work and are met with a bunch of thank you e-mails and even a thank you coffee from the nice older woman who sits three desks away from you. The rest you bring to the children’s hospital the next time the two of you visit, sweets are always a hit there.

Bucky does ban you from the kitchen for three weeks after though, afraid you’ll get the urge again and he’ll have to add a few more hours of gym time to his routine to burn off all the carbs he’s been eating.

[notevenhayleyhart]

Red Lipstick - Yandere!Batfam X RichGirl

A/n: Be so honest with me, are these chapters too long? I only want to entertain but if they're too much please let me know. I don't have an issue with writing longer ones, but I'm scared I might bore whoever is reading this ^^!

Preview: Treating wounds was one thing, but feeling a connection with hero's was another. Who was she kidding? From there, things continue to get out of hand like most things have been seeming lately.

Word count: 5.1k

Pov: Penelope MorningStar

Chapter Five:

To say that there was tension in the air, would've been a massive understatement. Okay, so much for acting cool and confident. I turned around and faced the two masked men who looked beyond out of place in our home's kitchen. 

“I’m Penelope.” I said after a long moment staring. 

“Nightwing.” The taller one said, sweeping his hands through his hair with a crooked smile. 

“Red robin.” The man narrowed his eyes. “But we’ve already been over that.” 

God, I really did that. Bantering with a superhero was not on my 2025 bingo card. 

“Yeah we have,” I rubbed the back of my neck and my eyes averted. This was awkward, but not. Heavy but chill? Like hell if it made any sense to me. This whole day felt odd. First I met Dick, managed to adopt a cat, and I also managed to now be playing at one of Wayne's luxury restaurants. 

Anyone would understand why I got home, ate and fed/washed the cat—and accidently knocked out after. 

The sound of banging woke me up (unfortunately), and I peeked out my window to see something that also wasn't on my bingo card. Heroes fighting it out and exchanging blows right there in front of my home! Naturally when it looked like they had it under control, I grabbed my dads shotgun for emergencies and took off. 

But I also did so in secret, not wanting to worry the others. 

I curse myself internally for my brashness. I had no business doing what I did but I did it anyway. Unable to help myself, per se usual. And on top of it, I couldn’t just leave them bleeding. Not when now I felt obligated to do something after I inserted myself into a situation that didn't involve me! 

So now here we are. 

Sighing, I gave each of them as serious a look as I could muster. “We need to be quiet, my family is sleeping.”

Red Robin leaned against the couch. “Well that's reckless, don't you think? What if you got hurt back there and your family freaked out? What if we kidnap you?”

That got Nightwing to jab his elbow into the former's ribs—who didn’t even flinch. 

“But I didn't, because you guys had it under control.” I shook my head. “Also, if you try any funny business I’ll just scream and wake everyone up.” It wasn't the most foolproof plan but tonight I seemed to have balls of steel and threw caution to the wind. 

Well, I have been overly confident lately. Might as well go with it. 

Nightwing rubbed the back of his neck, still fidgeting. “We have bandages on us but not any . . .” His words were lost on him as he stared at me and blinked. I stayed patient and waited for him to go on, when he didnt I took the floor. 

“Alright well, we got alcohol and water. How do you feel about unicorn bandaids?”

“The pinker the better,” Red Robin smirked. To which I tried my best not to blanch at.

“Anyways.” I narrowed my eyes. “Stay put,  I'll be right back. Please don't go digging through our crap.”

I wonder why when I came back, they were not where I left them in the kitchen. Rather they were in the living room inspecting the dozens of pictures on the walls. “What are you guys doing?”

So much for superheroes—they both jumped out of their skin like they were caught doing something inappropriate. 

I dropped the medical supplies on the coffee table and motioned for them to sit. “Try not too bleed too much on the couch.” Red Robin had the gaul to act laid back and propped himself on the cushion like he owned it. At least Nightwing had the humility to look embarrassed. 

“Sorry, we were just curious about your family. That's a lot of pictures you guys have. I take it the two others are your sibling.”

Red Robin looked everywhere but me. “It's cute how you guys are so close, do you ever butt heads?”

“All the time.” I said as I began to soak a cotton ball in alcohol. I motioned for Nightwing to come closer, he obliged and scooted over. “But that's just being siblings, right?”

“It really depends. Would you say most of your time spent together is in argument? Or do you try and keep the peace?”

“Peace is good. I'd rather it always be calm but that wouldn't exactly be healthy.”

“Would you say you're an idealist?”

“Define an idealist.” I said. 

This was turning into an integration somehow. I’d play along, only to see where this is going. I'll add curiosity onto the list of things I've overly been this week. 

“Someone who has a set of ideals and will do a lot to make them come true, even if they're not practical.” The young man said without even blinking. 

Waving a hand I got Nightwing to put his foot on the coffee table, I adjusted my seating so I could clean off the blood. 

But to Red Robin’s definition, I hummed in thought. I gave Nightwing a quick glance, as if to silently apologize because this was going to sting. Wiping a wet cloth over his wound I washed away the blood. Wringing out the cloth in the small basin I dipped it in the cool water. Afterwards, I dabbed at it with alcohol. I watched him only give a soft wince but not much else. Huh. I know I’d have been whining and complaining more, if only for the heck of it. But here he was taking the sting to the gashes as if it were nothing. 

I looked up and my eyes caught on NIghtwing’s as he was closer then I remembered him being. Our faces were inches apart but it somehow felt like even less. My heart shuttered when he didn't move away. Instead, our eyes locked and I felt my cheeks slowly heating up. He didn't notice, maybe, because his eyes never flickered down. His eyes were blue, so blue. I couldn't have been more still. His warm breath hit my face and I snapped out of it and turned my head to the other hero in the room. 

I said as if the moment never happened, “I would consider myself an idealist, to a certain point.” Ignoring my fast beating heart—alongside Nightwings eyes burning holes into my profile. “I have my values and morals but everyone else might not agree with it. So unless I'm hurting anyone else, I don't care about being unconventional if I'm living a life good for me.”

Red Robin was sitting straight as a pin, clearly noticing the little moment that passed between Nightwing and me. I desperately hoped my face wasn't red. It would only add onto my embarrassment. Seriously, what or who gave me the audacity today??

“How about you?”

His head lolled to the side. “I’ve got big ideas, but should I sacrifice the safety of one person because I think I can save two?” I’m beyond thankful he didn't comment on anything. But my eyes lingered on the small tension in his shoulders. 

“But even if there is a possibility, why not go for two?” I placed a bright yellow unicorn band aid on the cuts, not the little kind of band aids but the kind that were as big as your hand. 

“Because I wouldn't bet the odds when lives are at stake.”

“Then how high would the odds have to be to-”

“Ehem.” Nightwing said. Snapping us out of the easy conversation. “While I thank you for . . . all of this, we really do have to go back on patrol.” 

I looked between the two. I liked how easy it was to talk with the knock off Robin. Just like when we were outside. And now too, it was like the conversation flowed without me having to put in too much work. Distantly I wondered what else we could talk about in the future. Most people don't go about casual conversations with deep topics. But he seemed open to it. 

Pushing those thoughts away I internally cringed. Future conversations? How stupid could I be? This was clearly a one time thing.  It wouldn't last long by the looks of it. 

Standing up I dusted off my pants and looked at Red Robin, “guess I'll clean you up too now. We’ll get this over with real fast so I can let you guys go.”

Nightwing smiled small and was ready to comment when a knock at the door turned all three of our heads. 

Who the hell could be here at this time of night? I watched the other two exchange looks and stand, going to the door before I could. I huffed, rude. 

I peered over their shoulders (while I didn't consider myself short, that wasn't the easiest feat in the world). I couldn't see anyone and the guys weren't even acknowledging the person on the other end. Rather, they were gaping like fish on land. 

Resisting the urge to laugh at them, I pushed through now that there was no threat (by the looks of it, since either one of them probably would have jumped into action should there have been a threat. Or at least I hope so.)

What I never expected to be on the other side, who, would be a better word—was none other than a kid. Skin dark and eyes sharp, narrowed. His stance was giving off annoyed from his crossed arms and chin held high. I noticed the R on his suit and made an oooh sound. 

“So that's Robin.” I look at Red Robin. “And here I thought you were a cheap knock off. But y'all look nothing alike.”

Robin looked me up and down his lips pressed together. Nightwing is quick to defend himself. “You know, we had to fight a pretty tough guy and this kind citizen here, just happened to be nearby and gave us a hand.” Robin's eyes landed on the yellow unicorn bandage and he didn't budge an inch. 

“Why the hell did you follow us?” Red Robin said, returning the kids glare. “Shouldn't you be with Batman so you don't get kidnapped?”

“Funny you think I’d let someone take me hostage.” Robin said at last. 

I cleared my throat, “well while this reunion is fun and all, I don’t think there's room for another hero in this house. My family is still sleeping and we're already loud as it is.”

Robin looked at me like I was a nuisance. “Tell me, why is it that these idiots thought it was a good idea to get medical help in this dingy place, when they know how to stitch themselves up and more?”

“Ughmmm . . .”

Robin cut them both a look, a silent conversation going on that involved a lot of eyebrow and eye movement. 

“Right so as I said-”

“You still never helped me, I was really looking forward to that pink bandage.” Red Robin said with a small smirk. 

I pursed my lips. I just needed these people out of the house at this point. It was all fun and games staring into pretty boys eyes and going back and forth with Mr. Logical here. How many more of them would show up if I kept them here any longer? What are these people, homing beacons for other heroes? No sir, you can all go back to wherever you came from. I really don't want to explain to my parents that I snuck out and tried to help the hero’s with the house's shotgun. 

As soon as I came to that conclusion and planned to act on it, there was a loud yowling from another room. My head flipped around and I internally cursed. Damn Oreo. Poor baby doesn't like to be left alone. Ever since I brought him home he's clung close to me.

Ignoring them I rushed to the room, my slippered feet thumped against the hardwood floor as I took a left down the hallway. Only to come in and see Oreo doing some kind of gymnastics on my bed. Still small he was trying to get up, but he was swallowed by the large blanket. Rescuing him I held her close to my chest. 

“Sorry baby,” he gave a soft cry. “I know, I know.” He then bit my finger. “Ow. Please don't bite mommy.”

I sighed, keeping him close I left the room. Headed towards the living room I got out a pink unicorn bandage. Back at the front door, the three of them haven't moved an inch. So now I'm being listened to . . . 

I handed the band aid to Red Robin. He took it and inspected it, nodding like it passed the bar. 

“Are we good now?” My free hand petted Oreo’s head. 

What I failed to realize was Robin’s eyes had been glued onto the kitten the moment I brought him out. I only noticed when he spoke up about him. “What breed is he?”

“He's an, um, no clue. I kinda picked him up off the street earlier today.” 

“So I see you're also a fan of rescuing animals?”

I blinked at him a few times. “What-”

“Very well.” He said without me getting more than a word out. What the hell. Apparently I aced some kind of test because the youngest here nodded in approval. A new little sheen to his eyes. 

Nightwing chose to take charge. “Penelope is right, we should go. She’s shown us enough hospitality.”

Red Robin snorted. “For Gotham, that's rich.”

“If this is still even considered to be Gotham, it's too clean down here.”

“Alright that's enough.” I showed them out of the front door and gave a small wave to the three loitering on the porch. “Have a good night and try not to get more hurt, please. Do it for Oreo.” I held up the small kitten, making him wave goodbye to them before I shut the door. 

As soon as I clicked the lock into place I sighed and slumped against the door. 

What the flip just happened?

My hands fly across the piano's white keys. Clair De Lune filled the air, its soft melody and tempo as welcome as a warm embrace. It was beautiful and was one of my favorite songs to play. Mostly down to muscle memory I could play a decent portion of it without looking at the pages from how much I’ve done it. It was my first piece mastered, and my love for it grew alongside my skills. 

Only getting better at playing it, I found it to be a good warm up.

As others fill the room though my playing died out. It was the last class of the day at this sleepy little highschool. People were tired and groggy, and I gotta say I'm no happier than them to be at school after a three day weekend—but I'm wide awake for this class. 

The piano teacher was the last to step in, he also so happened to be my after school teacher. Whenever I would do an actual performance in a theater, in my silly/necessary disguise, he was the one in the wings cheering me on. Afterall, I was playing music he had taught me. 

Right, he knows about how I put on a wig and the whole charade. I was glad he understood my need to perform, but just do that—perform. Not put on a show for fat-cats only there because of my name. 

He gave me a small smile that I returned as he made his way to the front of the class. 

This was an advanced piano class, while these kids were good, there was only one other in this class who held the same passion I did. Which wasn't exactly surprising given this school was known more for its S.T.E.M. rather than music. 

That kid could keep up with me, and even surprised me at times. 

Mr. Smith was taking out music sheets from his bag and passing them out. 

Hunter, who shares a piano with me along with a passion for the instrument, sighed. His eyes met mine. “Do you think we’ll finally move on from this song today and learn a new one?” He said in a not so quiet whisper. 

“Shut up,” I said with a grin. “Give it time. We have to perform this for the school concert so Mr. Smith wants to make sure we have it all down.” 

By the time the music sheet got to us, Hunter made a face at the same song we’d been practicing for three weeks.

I tired to cheer him up. “Come on. Sure the melody isn't all that catchy, but it picks up in the second half and has a cool ending!”

“Real convinced.”

I poked his ribs, getting a small smile out of him. 

“Seriously. Lighten up.”

“Uhuh.” He poked me back. “What's got you so hyped up today?”

“I'm always hyped.”

“You are, just not this much usually.”

My fingers traced the keys and I couldn't help the way my eyes averted. 

“You have a new show?”

I gasped. “How did you know?”

He laughed and I blushed. “Come on. You only ever get nervous because of a show. On top of it, you look away when you're nervous. Put two and two together and-”

“Bam.”

“Bam.” 

I sighed and played with the tips of my hair. “You know me too well.” 

“Yeah yeah, I'll style your wig. What fake name did you choose this time?”

Right, Hunter was also someone I trusted to tell my little secret too. But I swear he’s the last one on the list who knows.

“Well about that . . .” 

I caught him up to speed on the playing at a fancy restaurant in the city owned by Bruce Wayne. Most of all, how I'd be playing as myself and not by some alias. Of course though, it took me a bit longer to explain given we were practicing the song and talking in between. 

By the end his face had gone a shade paler, I was touched by his care. 

“So?” I asked after a long moment. 

He rubbed the back of his neck before hesitantly looking at me. “Is that even right . . ?”

“Well I'm too deep.”

“But you're not. You can step back. Don't put yourself in a situation you don't want to be in just for your dad. He’d understand.”

“Yeah but I've already considered that.” I held only sincerity in my gaze. “I try not to think of it as owing my dad, but rather giving him something. He’s done a lot for our family, so giving him a hand will be cool. There's not a lot I can help with when it comes to the company because it's pretty tech based.”

“Which is your brother's thing, huh?” His shoulder nudged mine. 

“Yeah.” My smile was coy. 

“You got a big heart Nell, don't let those snobs get to you.”

“I know. I won't.”

Even though I was sincere and sure of what I was saying. That was what would get me to sit at the piano tomorrow night. It's not what would make me play confidently. I won't screw up, but that doesn't mean all of my heart will be into it. My playing will suffer for it, the sound, not the accuracy of the notes I hit. 

That much must have been clear on my face since he took hold of my hand. “Nell.”

“Hm?”

“Let me go with you.”

I snorted. “You like those snobs as much as I do. Why would you want to go?”

“For you dumbass. Do I have to spell it out?”

“Well no shit sherlock.”

“Fuck you, watson.”

“Seriously though. Are you just trying to get fancy food on my dime?”

“I'll do you one better.” He snapped his fingers and a dopey grin lit up his face. “You go and perform, be your amazing self. Dazzle the crowd like I know you will. And I'll be right in your corner, sipping on water. Then afterwards, we get some cheap pizza and those big bottles of soda.”

His smile was infectious. “I'd like that.”

“It'll be fun. Inbetween songs I'll give you pep talks and hype you up. I’ll be in your corner.”

“Hmm. Very tempting.”

“After we get the food, you can pick up Oreo and we can head to a park. Boom, perfect plan.”

I laughed, unable to help myself. “Okay, I'm sold.”

Mr. Smith cleared his throat. “I assume you two have the song down?”

“Since last week,” was Hunter's response whilst he crossed his arms.

“Then I'd love to see you play it for the class.” 

I'm grateful that Hunter has the bite that backs up the bark. Otherwise he’d look like an idiot being so cocky. I smiled to myself as he played the song the class was struggling with with ease. The melody was smooth, the soft song truly being music when performed by him. And with such a perfect tempo too. I closed my eyes as he played, the whole class fading away as all I focused on was the song. 

Beautiful. 

The rest of the period passed by uneventfully. I got home, fed Oero, and took Applejack out for a bit. Riding her let me clear my mind. Petting her snout I tried to calm myself. It wasn't like I was at the restaurant this very second. But I might as well have been with all the anxiety bubbling in my gut. The reminder that Hunter would be there eased me. He’s been a close friend since I started high school. I trusted him, so it put me at ease to know he’d be there. 

Inside again, I plopped down on my bed with Oero, who was quick to knead my stomach so it could be ‘more comfortable’ to lie down on. Just as he curled into a ball, the door to my room slammed open. His back arched and he hissed, running to hide in my hair. 

Pacifica was standing in my doorway with maybe a thousand dresses in her arms. “Wake up bitch.”

“Hello?? I wasn't asleep.” 

“You might as well be from how dead you look.”

I took in her appearance, her disheveled hair and fading makeup. 

“Why the hell are you here? Didn't you just get out of school? College, remember?” 

“Too many questions, not enough trying on crap.” She threw the clothes on my bed. Oreo came out of his hiding spot and sniffed at the fabrics with suspicion. I scooped him up before he could chew on the sequins. “You still have the cat?”

“Yes. Mom said I could keep him as long as I took care of him.”

“And how sure are you that he’s a cat?”

I groaned. “Dude.” I gave her a pointed look. “Why are you here with clothes . . . storm, a blizzard. Get it out of here.”

“Hell no.” she picked up a blue dress and tossed it at me. To which I let fall to the floor because I was holding something far more precious. 

“Explain.”

“Ugh, fine. Why are you difficult?” She rubbed her brow before toning it down a bit and taking me seriously. “I found out through the pipe called family gossip that you're going to be playing at Bruce Wayne's restaurant. His famous one. The Michelin Star one. The one you have to wait months to get a reservation for.”

“Okay I get the point!”

“And since you probably would have shown up in jeans and a t-shirt.” She gagged. “I'm going to help you get dressed. As the wonderful fashion major that I am, I hand picked dresses that would suit your skin tone and hair and even your eyes. I’m taking this seriously, Nell. So chop chop!” 

She stole Oreo away from me and shoved the dress in my hands. 

“I don't have a choice, do i?”

“Nope. Now change, I have homework to do and I want to figure out which one will drop those rich folk dead.”

Giving her a look I took the blue dress and went into the bathroom down the hall. Grumbling the whole time I shimmied into the dress and zipped it up. The performance was tomorrow for Christ's sake. 

I came into the hall when she was scratching behind Oero’s ears. The traitorous black kitten purred and snuggled into her neck. She scrutinized the dress. My skin was tan from all the days working outside. The baby blue went well with it. It was floor length and hugged my body just about everywhere. It was sleeveless, being held up at my chest. 

My sister hummed. “No. Maybe with some white gloves, but this isn't really you.”

“No kidding.” 

The dress was screaming elegant while my hair was in messy waves. It looked too tame. 

She produced another dress from thin air. “Next.”  

I knew this was going to be a long night. But good gravy. 

Ten dresses later, this twelfth one might have been the one. She may have been a fashion major, but she had a certain vision and it showed. I was going to a nice place. So all eleven dresses before have been purely elegant. Light shades of pink, blue and grey. Ones that had lace and silk, a sleep look to them. Realizing none of them were really working. She showed me a white dress that was set apart from the rest. 

“If this one doesn't work, nothing will.” she said moments ago with an eye roll. 

I got it on myself, but called her into the bathroom to help me tie the corset piece.

Looking at myself in the mirror, the dress was by far my favorite. 

The silence was stretching. Nearer to her, I took in the extent of her being off. My 21 year old sister rushed over here after classes to help me look nice. No doubt aware of how nervous I'd been. Because she knows me. Enough that she knew I was going to show up in ‘jeans and a t-shirt’. I internally thank her for that. 

But jeez. 

Everything was fine yesterday. I recap the day. The morning with mom, the buffet spread of delicious food. Cleaning Applejack. Dad calling me over so i could meet Mr. Wayne. Talking with Dick . . . Oreo, saving Oreo. Home. tired, sleeping. Then there was the hero madness. What was it that was bothering her? 

“Are you still upset about the thirty letters from your ‘suitors?’”

“No. Yes.” She shook her head. “But I'm fine.”

“You seem off,” I prodded. 

She paused her movements with the corset to scrub a hand down her face. Her eyes looked to the kitten who was placed in the sink, licking the barely on faucet set to drip water for his entertainment. 

“It's not that big a deal.” She ruffled my hair and I scrunched my nose. “Just been thinking a bit.”

“Is it about what Prince and you were talking about the other day?”

She shook her head. “Never mind, I don't want to worry you.”

“Oh come on! You can't just say that and not tell me.” I pouted, feeling even more like the baby of the family. Who were they to keep stuff from me? I was able to blow it off ealier but it was starting to bug me now. I could handle whatever it was.

“Nell.” She gave a tug on the ribbon and I sucked in a breath, the corset almost done. “It's about the party.”

“I know that much. Me and Prince were talking about it before you came out. He said something was wrong.” I sucked in another breath as it somehow pinched my skin.

“Yeah well, I was kinda piecing things together during class.”

“When you should've been paying attention?”

“Yes. Anyways, he felt so off because it felt like we were being watched. And he said you felt it too. And if people were taking notice of you, it would make sense that they’d notice your playing. What if it was Wayne who noticed you? I'm pretty sure it was him and his family, and those were the eyes we were feeling at the party. The connection is obvious since they literally contacted dad the day after. So yeah.”

“I mean, it makes sense.” I met her eyes in the mirror. “Why’s it worrying you?”

“I think . . . what if they want to hurt the family? Maybe not you individually, but our name? Not that it’s meant a whole ton to us. But you should've seen dads eyes when he signed his name for my tuition bill. Knowing I wouldn't go into adulthood with a shit ton of debt, and still be able to go to my dream school.”

“Pacifica.” I turned around to look at her. 

“Dad worked so hard to build up his company. And you only want to help. But what if Wayne is trying to get to him through you. What if he sees him as a rival? That would explain why the eyes on us felt so heavy. What if they don't have good intentions?”

Going off the narrative, it would explain some things. Why Dick was so open to being friendly with me, why it seems like he cared so much off the bat. Was it an act? Bruce Wayne seemed hesitant to strike up a deal with my dad before. Was that why? Because he saw him as a rival? Then he saw an opening through me. 

I took a shallow breath. Spooky. I’ve always thought myself above the scheming of the upper class, that I wouldn't care about it. But it's a whole different story when they're going after my family. 

“I didn't want to tell you and freak you out. I don't know any of these things for sure, after all.” She tried to lighten the mood. “Maybe one of them just has a crush on you.”

I pursed my lips, “unlikely.” 

Dick Grayson's smile flashes behind my eyes. 

My sister turned me around to face the mirror. The dress was perfect. It was white with short sleeves. It reached to my mid thigh, it was puffing out and flowing from my hips. The back is open, my skin clear from behind the curtain of lace holding up the corset. 

Will it be a mistake to perform at Bruce’s restaurant?

Taglist: @whognuthis, @nervousalpacalady, @angwlart

[thefanciestborrower]

At Least It’s Not Hulk

What can I say, the brainworms hit me

Warnings: Contains soft, safe, G/t vore, mentions of injury

Characters: Steve and Clint (Avengers Assemble)

Word Count: 989

The first thing Clint noticed was that he was hot. Like, swelteringly so. So hot in fact that he felt like he was practically drowning in a puddle of his own sweat. That was the second thing he noticed: he was wet. Absolutely sopping and too much so for it to be just sweat. To be fair, waking up soaking wasn’t entirely uncommon considering his job involved lots of getting thrown into the Hudson, but still concerning nonetheless. The Hudson wasn’t usually so warm anyways. He groaned. His head was pounding…or…maybe that was the low drumming he could more so feel than hear through the floor of…wherever he was.

With a grimace Clint opened his eyes to reveal a whole lot of nothing. If you count darkness as nothing that is, which he did. Sure there was always usually something IN that darkness, but if you couldn’t see it then was it really there? Wrinkling his nose he shifted, the floor under him squelching and shifting and…oh. Maybe he did know where he was after all. It was the smell that gave it away really: the acidic tang of bile and day old sandwich clinging to him in a thick film as he struggled to prop himself up against what he now knew to be the muscular walls of a stomach. The fact that he was so familiar with such a bizarre and quite frankly disgusting location had worried him once, but unfortunately he’d grown quite used to it over his time with the Avengers. Just came with the superhero territory he supposed.

Now the real question remained: exactly whose guts had he ended up in? Feeling to make sure his hearing aid and glasses were still where he’d left them, he sighed, find only one of those still intact. Unfortunate, but not unexpected. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d lost his glasses, and it probably wouldn’t be the last either. Fiddling with his aid, he adjusted the settings to compensate for the loud, ambient noises of his environment and listened. For the moment, whoever he’d wound up with didn’t seem to be moving, and they certainly weren’t talking, so he took advantage of the relative calm and wracked his brain for any memory of how he’d ended up in this…situation. He’d been fighting some wannabe villain of the week with Iron Man and a few others when something had hit him from behind and…hmm…after that his memory was blank. Fantastic.

He tried once more to sit up properly, slipping again as the muscle under him rolled and shifted, when suddenly everything stiffened and he found himself sandwiched in place. “Woah hang on, ease up there will ya’?” he spluttered, more muttering than actually talking. His ‘captor’ heard him regardless.

���Hawkeye, are you alright?”

His hearing aid had long since been adjusted to pick up and distinguish the distorted voice of anyone he’d ended up inside (courtesy of Tony), so he had no trouble understanding the question directed at him. Definitely Steve’s voice. He’d ended up inside the Captain, which, all things considered, was probably of the better outcomes. More preffered than Scott anyways that’s for sure.

“I’m fine I’m fine,” Clint insisted, pushing back at the surrounding walls. “Though I might not be if you keep smothering me like this big guy. Mind filling me in on what’s going on out there? And how I ended up serving as a mid afternoon snack?”

The pressure relented, but only slightly. Steve was still tense, and it made the his surroundings far less comfortable.

“You were hit pretty bad; Ant-Man helped me get you off the field.” Came the tight response, and Clint frowned as the steady heartbeat around him picked up a pace or two. “I’m sorry, I wish I hadn’t had to do this while you were unconscious but-“

“Hey hey relax old man, it’s alright.” Clint interrupted, settling himself into a fold. “Better you than the Hulk at least.” He could feel more than hear Cap sigh around him, and as the muscle began to relax Clint smiled to himself. Truth be told, he really could have done without being eaten while unconscious. It unnerved him a little, being that out of control, but at the same time he really did understand why Steve had done it. They were in battle, it was the right call to keep him safe, and he didn’t hold it against the Captain. More than that, he didn’t want Steve to hold it against himself, so he didn’t need to know how Clint’s heart had raced when he’d woken up or how he still flinched at some of the louder ambient gurgles.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” Clint cracked a smile. “Though you do still owe me. How about a box of thin mints and I call it even.”

Steve laughed, soft and warm, and Clint congratulated himself on defusing what could have been a much more guilt ridden conversation.

“Alright, I can do that. Take it easy in there for now though, you got hit pretty hard.”

Clint rolled his eyes, but figured Steve was probably right. It was hard to tell in the dark when literally everything was warm and sticky and gross, but he was pretty sure he had a bit of blood matted in his hair. He could smell it. Well, either he was bleeding or Cap had split his lip, which was also a possibility. Either way, taking it easy didn’t sound too awful, so he didn’t argue.

“Yeah yeah, whatever you say winghead.” He laughed, kicking lightly at one of the walls pressing in on him (Steve’s hand no doubt). Steve didn’t respond, and Clint didn’t particularly want him to. The pounding of Steve’s heart was really starting to make his own pounding headache worse, so he turned down his hearing aid, rolled over, and closed his eyes. All things considered, this really wasn’t so bad.

[man3at3r-mp4]

𝔅𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔩𝔞𝔪𝔟 hazbin hotel x male reader : Chapter Ⅳ - overture

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐬 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐲 𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐱 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐧 & 𝐄𝐫𝐢𝐤𝐚 𝐇𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐨𝐧

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

1:35 ───ㅇ───── 3:47

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Blame Chris for me not being able to update guys :((/jay

I'm sorry this was really overdue.

‘*lamb*’

That word echoed in your head, as you suddenly sat up, panting as you glanced around the room. Shit. Did you fall asleep?

God, you groaned as you rubbed your head. “What the hell was that dream even about…”

You've been getting a bunch of those strange dreams lately. Almost always in Eden, which was strange because you've never been there. But why did its surroundings feel so familiar?

You glanced at the foot of your bed and saw Shelly, the blue puppy eyes staring up at you with concern.

You snorted, petting his soft fur, “I’m fine Skelly..” you said softly. The puppy’s tail began to wag enthusiastically as he barked in response.

“Mostly anyways…” you added, quietly. Your thoughts still lingered on the marriage proposal. Your mouth suddenly tastes bitter, like you had doused an entire jug of extremely sour lemonade.

You were still pissed off and rightfully so. Having your entire life signed away by your sisters wasn't on his bucket list.

Your life has always been assigned to you; what you'd do, what you'd wear. Etc. you had hoped Sara would have the decency to allow you to decide who and when you'd marry. But you supposed you were being foolish to think so.

A sudden knock at the door snapped you out of your thoughts. You groaned, you really didn't want to see anyone right now. But you knew better than to ignore whoever was at the door.

Sluggishly, you sat up from your bed and begrudgingly made your way to the door. You took in a deep breath, before opening the door.

Your smile immediately dropped as you realized who it was.

“Hey babe” Adam’s infuriating voice called out as he leaned against the doorframe; behind him you could see Lute standing there, looking just as unamused as you did.

“So like-” Before he could even finish you slammed the door in his face, or at least tried too.

Adam seemed to expect this, as he propped his foot in the gap of the door before you could fully shut it. He let out a yell of pain, “ fuck!” He growled out.

Lute quickly rushed over to her boss, “Sir, are you okay?” She asked, with genuine concern.

“Of course I'm not!” He spat, shooting a glare at the female. “Anyways…” he said, his voice slightly strained from the pain. “We really really need to talk, and I'm not taking no for an answer so get your gay ass out here.”

Your eyes narrowed at him, as you continued to try and slam the door shut; purposely using more force this time.

“OW! YOU FUCKING BI-”

You slammed the door again.

“FUCK! STOP IT!”

And again.

“YOUR MAJESTY!” Lute yelled, desperately trying to get you to stop before you crush Adam's foot until it's flatter than flat Stanley.

You did it again.

“I'll talk with you once you ask me nicely.”

“What the hell?- no-”

You slammed the door again.

“FUCK OKAY-” he wheezed out. “Please….” he said quietly.

You rose a brow, “sorry what was that?” You asked mockingly, “I can't really hear you.”

“I said..could you remove the door off my foot..” he grumbled. You remained silent, that wasn't good enough.

“Please…” he whimpered out, quietly. You heard Lute stifle a laugh from beside him. A smile made its way onto your face as you opened the door.

“Why of course, now what did you want to talk about…” it was amusing to have Adam beg you. You weren't a sadist but it was funny to have a man so narcissistic look up at you with big puppy dog eyes.

You hoped this wasn't a fetish a thing and just you having some weird psychological thing. You are not a sadist.

While Adam tried to regain his composure, Lute decided to speak on his behalf. “Well…” she began. “We’re here to ask you to accompany us to a meeting.” You crossed your arms, quirking a brow. You were kinda intrigued about what this meeting is about.

“What's this meeting about?” You questioned, one of your ears flicking as you spoke.

Lute glanced at Adam, who was still recovering from the pain. She watched as he gave her a shaky thumbs up, giving her the go ahead. She sighed, her gaze drifting back to you. “We’re having a meeting with the princess of hell about the…exterminations” she explained.

“Oh..” was all you could muster up to say, but your interest was piqued. You were aware about the exterminations, Sara had told you years ago. You didn't know why she told you specifically. But she did. She asked you to not say a word to anyone else about it, and you didn't.

As much as Sara pissed you off sometimes, especially considering your current situation. You never thought even once to spill out the little secret she told you. You thought it was fucked up, you couldn't lie. You still do, but you were so caught up in your heavenly duties, you had forgotten about them.

A sense of guilt began to wash over you, you really didn't do much to convince sera and Adam to not go through with them. You tried a few times and then just… gave up, you could've tried harder. Sure they probably wouldn't have listened, but at least you'd know you did everything you could.

Lute seemed to notice your silence, and awkwardly adjusted her uniform sleeves. “Look..” she said. “If..if you don't want to come; that's fine..I'm sure Adam would throw a fit. But I'm sure he'd calm down after I take him to the new smoothie place that opened up.” She suggested, her voice slightly cracking. You could tell she wasn't really sure what to do. But you appreciated her consideration to ensure that you were comfortable.

“No, it's fine..I'll go.” You replied softly.

“You will?” Her eyebrows rose in surprise. Adam, who had finally recovered, seemed just as surprised as she was.

“Yeah..uh…I don't know..could be interesting I guess..” you shrugged, hoping to not sound too awkward.

“Fuck yes!” Adam cheered, suddenly wrapping an arm around your neck and pulling you closer. “Alright and after we talk to this bitch, we can do some actual fun shit” he suggested.

You couldn't help but crack a small smile as Adam went on and on about some plans he had for you and him. Your gaze slowly drifted to Lute, she seemed to notice your gaze, and quickly looked away.

You snorted at her awkwardness, as you turned your attention back to Adam.

Maybe, a meeting with the princess is what you needed to find out what you were meant to do in this life. You might even go to hell on official business, and not just you fucking around with portals.

You took back what you said, this was significantly less cool than you thought.

You, Adam, and Lute were sitting in one of Heaven's multiple meeting rooms. As you waited for the princess to arrive. Oh yeah, and Adam was eating some spare ribs. He offered you some which you declined.

Apparently, neither of them had the decency to actually go to hell and speak with Charlie face to face. So you'd just have your holograms in the meeting room instead. Which as much as you wanted to curse them out for being disrespectful, you knew you had know place to speak. With all the times you've snook down to hell, you've seen Charlie's face multiple times and yet you've never taken time out of your day to actually go see her.

You shrunk back in your seat, glancing at Adam who sat at the head of the table. “Can't we-”

“Shh, hot stuff I hear footsteps.” He raised up his hand to silence you, causing you to frown.

You furrowed your brows as you watched Lute turn off the lights in the Hell meeting room, you saw no point in needing to spook her but you did little to stop them.

You glanced over at the doors direction as you heard it open and a familiar voice called out.

“Uh hello?” You watched the blonde demon step into the dark room, glancing around her surroundings. “Is anyone…here?”

The lights suddenly turned on, “Sup” he said. Charlie, clearly not expecting this, jolted as she tripped over her own feet.

“Oh shit-” you heard her say, your eyes widening as you tilted your head to make sure she was okay.

Her head then popped up from the other end of the table, her bangs ruffled and now covering her right eye. You snickered a bit as she greeted the three of you.

She quickly stood up and fixed her hair, “oh hi! I'm Charlie, my dad asked me if I could meet you” she smiled.

You found yourself frowning at Adam’s dismissive response. Your gaze shifting over to Charlie once more.

“Okay well it's nice to meet you..” she said as she furrowed her brows, clearly looking awkward. As she reached out her hand for Adam to shake.

“Totally, nice to meet you too..” Adam leaned forward to shake her hand, you frowned clearly knowing where this was going.

Charlie's hand phased through Adam’s hand, causing her to retract it almost immediately, her eyes wide. “Oooh!”

You rolled your eyes as you watched Adam cackle about how ‘ he got her’. “Did ya see that?” He leaned his head over to you.

You shook your head, your gaze falling back on Charlie. “Sorry about him..” you said, causing her to snap out of daze. “He peaked in high school, which is ironic because he didn't even go to one.” You scoffed. “Charlie right?” You asked, “I'm Y/n”

Charlie’s smile returned at your warm welcome, “nice to meet you too Y/n” she replied. She held her hand out again, on instinct.

You laughed softly, “sorry..I'm a hologram too” , your voice sounding apologetic. “But if I wasn't I'd shake your hand..”

Charlie nodded, laughing nervously. “Oh right! Sorry..”. Her eyes suddenly went wide as she processed your words. “Wait..hologram? So you guys aren't here?” She asked.

You went to reply but were cut off by Adam, “um no. You'd think we'd come down there-” you rose a brow at his usage of ‘we'. The exterminator laughed as he continued. “No, I mean I love the vibe. Love your tunes.” He pointed at the female demon, as he leaned in closer. “Pretty fucking hardcore, don't get me wrong”

He leaned back as he pressed his cheek against the cold marble table. “But it's SUCH a bummer”

“Ugh, you rolled your eyes at his behavior. Why did he always have to act like such a child all the time? You watched as he went on for a few more seconds before Charlie responded.

“Right…” she replied, voice slightly strained. You don't blame her for being irritated. Before she jumped right back into her bubbly self again, “So! I'm glad we got this opportunity to meet! There's a project I've been working on. That I Really-” she leaned in closer, to enunciate her enthusiasm.

Adam cut her off, placing his pointer finger against her lips to silence her. “Hey hey hey..slow down-” he says. “We got time..how about we get to know each other first? How about some lunch hmm? You hungry?” He offered.

“I got you” He handed out the plate of ribs, “here's my personal favorite I got you.”

“Uh thanks..” Charlie said as she reached down to grab one.

“Charlie wait-” you went to stop her, but it was too late, her hand phased through the plate. Causing Adam to burst into a fit of laughter once more.

You and Charlie shared similar unamused looks. “I got you again BITCH!” Adam cackled. “Fuckin hilarious”

You had enough, and yanked Adam back by his collar. Causing him to yelp, “babe what the hell?”

“Can you stop acting like you just crawled out of a cheesy 80s movie and act like an adult.” You spat, causing him to roll his eyes.

“I'm just having fun..” he grumbled, like a child.

You raised a brow, “we came here for a meeting, that's why we're in a meeting room..y'know to discuss things..” you said, crossing your arms.

“And we will just chillax lamb chop~” he teased, patting your head as he wiggled out of your grip.

‘*lamb chop?*’ you thought. ‘*that's a new one’

You don't know how long it's been, but it's been at least an hour or Adam blabbering about some stupid shit no one but him would care about.

You and Charlie sat there completely bored out of your minds. You had your cheek pressed against the table, while Charlie had her head in her hand while you both listened to the angel.

“So I was playing this gig, and this virtue chick was digging on the drummer. And it's like, ‘do you KNOW who I am? I'm Adam” he stood up from his seat, as he pointed down to his pelvis. “I'm the original dick! All dicks descend from me! You think you want drummer dick? He'll no!-” Lute shook her head in agreement with Adam.

You and Charlie shared a look, as he continued.

“I'm the dick fucking master-” he took a bite of a rib as he finished. “Anyways..then we fucked..it was awesome. What'd you do this weekend?”

Charlie’s eyes went wide as she suddenly realized something. “Wait- your name is Adam? Like the first man Adam? That means you-” she cut herself off as she leaned back. “Ohhhh, that explains so much…” she whispered.

You laughed at her expression, “you're telling me..” you said in agreement. Causing Adam to shoot a glare at you, “hey, you better get used to it, lamb chop.” He said, “cause you're getting married to all of this-” he ran his hands down his body to make his point clear.

“Eugh…” you groaned, rolling his eyes.

“Woah- you're marrying him..?” Charlie butted in, her eyes wide.

“Yep, he is.” Adam said, boastfully. “The original dick and the Prince of heaven getting tied down to each other.” He adds. “It's perfect, I do deserve the best.”

“Prince?” She glanced over at you in confusion. “But..I thought the Prince's name was el-” she suddenly shook her head. “Wait nevermind i'm getting side tracked”

You blinked, wondering what she was going to say? El- what? Your name's y/n, it's always been y/n. You shook your head, she's probably just remembering some things wrong.

“Well Adam sir..Mr. Adam sir” she began, standing up from her spot.

“Call me Dickmaster”

“Adam..” she said with a deadpan expression.

“You seem like a smart- we'll stand up guy!-” she began to walk closer towards him.

You crossed your arms, as you watched Adam respond once more with uninterest. You did a hand motion to urge her to keep going, which she smiled at.

“And I know you are the leader of the angels. and you're a big thinker! A revolutionary! A-A genius!”she threw her arms in her air.

“I mean your words, babe” responded Adam, as he grabbed another rib.

“Who would really love to put his name on something-”

“I love putting my name on shit! Shits the best!” He exclaimed, slamming his hands down on the table which caused you to jolt upward.

“It's the solution to our biggest problem!!!” She smiled.

“Oh herpes?” Adam sighed, “yeah that's a bitch..”.

“What?” You replied, clearly confused as to how that was the first thing he thought about.

“No! Our-” she fiddled with her fingers nervously. “Our other biggest problem!”

“Oh uh..ugly people?” He asked.

“Dude–” you interrupted, clearly irritated.

“Well you don't have to worry about that, you're the hottest piece of ass in heaven..” he winked, in your direction. Which unfortunately, caused you to blush a little, clearly embarrassed he said that right in front of Charlie.

Adam went back to guessing “Math? Global warming? Oh no wait, that's earths problem um-”

It's been 30 minutes, and Adam still hasn't figured out what Charlie meant. All three of you sat around the table once more, Charlie clearly exhausted, with her head in her palms. While you sat there, arms crossed, as your left eye twitched as Adam kept going.

“And when you take her out for the fifth time and she still expects you to pay the check” Charlie looked just about done, as she cradled her head in her hands. “ hey I thought you wanted equality” Adam finished, raising his voice.

“NO!” Charlie groaned out, “our shared problem of overpopulation in hell”

“Ohhhh..” Adam says, ignoring the glare you were giving him. “ Well that's not a problem! We got that covered.” He turned to face Lute. “Lute, how many demons did you kill this year?” He asked. The said angel, stepping forward as she was addressed.

“Got a good 275 this year, sir” she answered.

“275!?” Woah! Badass! Awesome job, Danger tits. Pound it” he held out his fist for a fist bump, which Lute returned. You shook your head at their behavior.

“Uh no! Not awesome. Those are my people” she placed her hands on the cold surface of the table. “You do know that right?”

“Oh yeah…” he fakes concern. “That must suck for you pfft- HAHAHA-” he laughed.

“ADAM!” You yelled at him, causing him to stop momentarily. Looking at you with genuine confusion.

“What?”

“But..these are souls…human souls” Charlie spoke, her smile turning into a frown. “Just the same as the ones that you have in heaven”

“They are not the same.” Lute spoke up. Your eyes drifting to the female exterminator. “They had their chance and they earned damnation” she said, her voice lacking any sympathy.

“You're wrong,” Charlie shook her head. “Sinners make mistakes, sure. But everyone makes mistakes ..” you glanced awkwardly to the side, lord knows you have.

“Angels don't make mistakes.” Lute retorted.

“You really think that?” Charlie narrowed her eyes. The exterminator copied her motion.

“I know that.”

“Yeah” Adam interrupted, “I've never made a mistake in my fucking life”. You shot him another glare, which he caught. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“The only reason you're still here-” lute made her way over to where Charlie sat. Her arms resting behind her back. “Is because daddy gave you and your hellborn kind from an exorcist blade.” She leaned in closer to the demon, “how does that feel?” She moved to the other side of Charlie's chair. “ to know how little you matter.”

Your eyes widened at her cruelty, you had known Lute’s distaste for demons . But you've never seen it in realtime before. Charlie shrunk back at her words, hurt clearly flashing across her face.

You frowned, giving her a sympathetic look. “Ooops~” Adam stretches back in his seat. “Almost out of time,guess we should get into it..”

“You do realize this meeting woulda been shorter if you woulda just let her start off with it” you shook your head. Adam only shrugged in response.

“Oh! Charlie perks up. “Fuck!” She practically leaped out of her chair as she rushed over to the closest seat to Adam.

“Oop- I got a lot to get through and not a lot of time, and I feel like you weren't hearing me before so here it goes ahem” she grabbed the pile of papers she brought and began.

“So hell's population is out of control” she showed a silly drawing she did of multiple sinners in hell. She ripped it off to reveal a new drawing of even more stickman sinners. “ It's a bad situation, it's taking a toll,” she gestured to her drawing. “If we rehab these sinners, and cleanse all their souls-” she threw the drawing aside to reveal the ‘Hazbin Hotel’ with a rainbow and various hearts around it. “At my Hazbin Hotel-” she rummaged through the other piles of papers. “Wait- I'm getting ahead of myself-”

She reached for another drawing of exterminators killing demons. “Right exterminations.”

Adam and Lute shared a skeptical look meanwhile you bobbed your head to the tune of Charlie’s singing.

“I know you guys fly down just to kill once a year and it must be annoying to schlep all the way here” she made a gesture with her fingers to signify the distance. “If they join you in heaven that trip disappears!” She threw both of her drawings over your heads, a rainbow and sparkles suddenly appearing between them. A sparkle landed on your nose causing you to sneeze.

“You can wave that chore farewell!” She let out a gasp. “It'll be a happy day in he-” she reached above her head to show off her final drawing of angels and demons holding hands under a rainbow.

“Let me stop you right there” Adam raised his hand, to cut her off. You could hear Charlie let out a quiet ‘oh’. “Save us all precious time” he continued.

“Okay..” Charlie says, holding her drawings close to her chest as she glanced at him nervously.

“If what you're suggesting” he placed his hands under his head, before he made a motion with his fingers of climbing. “Is letting them climb up the ladder, oh they’d rather cross the pearly gates?”

“Well I-”

“Sorry sweetie, but there's no defying their fate-” Adam suddenly flew and landed on top of the table, causing it to shake slightly. You stepped back in surprise, as you glanced up at your fiancé.

“Cause hell is forever, whether you like it or not” He crossed his arms as he stared down at Charlie. You narrowed your eyes as you heard the condescension in his tone.

“Had their chance to behave better, now they boil in a pot.” You scowled at his words as he continued. “Cause the rules are black and white. There's no use in trying to fight it. Their burning for their lives until we kill em again!”

Charlie clenched the drawings in her hands as she went to speak up again, but was cut off once more.

“Just try to chillax babe.” He placed his hands under his chin once more, as his voice dripped with mock gentleness. “You're wasting your breath.”

“Haha..” Charlie laughed dryly, only to nearly fall back as Adam leaned forward. “Did I hear you imply that they don't deserve death?!”

Charlie stepped back as Adam and Lute stepped forward, you hesitantly followed after them as you bit your lip. Not really knowing what to do.

“Are they winners? Are they sinners? Cuz it's cut and dry-”

“Well actually if you take a look at the-” she tried to speak once more.

“Fair is fair, an eye for an eye” Adam suddenly launched into the air, his wings creating a few dust clouds.

“And when all said in done” Adam sang, his golden wings outstretched as the ‘sun' shone behind him. Charlie narrowed her eyes as she looked up at him.

“Theirs the question of fun” he clasped his hands before he used the clouds as steps as he made his way back to the ground. “And For those of us with Divine Ordainment. Extermination is entertainment!” Him and Lute flew up into the sky, as Adam continued his singing “Bow-now-now-nownow. Guitar solo, fuck yeah!” He began to play air guitar, as lute danced behind him. You and Charlie stood there watching them both with similar expressions.

“Oh, da-ah-ah now-now-n-now-n-now-n-now-n-nownownow” Adam floated down and landed on the table again. “Hell is forever whether you like it or not” he began to clap on beat, as suddenly golden holograms of other exterminators appeared and began to clap along with Adam as they surrounded the princess. “Hell is forever whether you like or not”

“Where did all of you people come from?” She stammered as she backed up against the door.

“Had their chance to behave better now they boil in a pot. Cause the rules are black and white-” they all leaned in closer to Charlie, as they completely surrounded her. You hesitantly stepped forward concern knitting your brows as you tried to get a better look at the demon.

“There's no use in trying to fight it,” Adam and lute did a fist bump “their burning for their lives until we kill them again.” Suddenly in a gust of golden magic, Adam summoned his electric guitar. “Fuckin hell is forever and it's meant to suck a lot” as he played the guitar, the golden exterminators lost interest in Charlie as they flew up to join him.

“So give up your dumb endeavor. 'cause you don't have a shot!” Your eyes flickered to Charlie flinching as you watched her irritation grow. Her hair floating upwards as her horns began to grow, her eyes glowing a vibrant red. “Ughhh.” You heard her groan.

“ long as I got your attention, I should probably mention.” You yelped, as one of the exterminators grabbed your wrist and forced you to fly up with the others. “That we made the determination” you watched as Adam made his guitar disappear, only for him to replace it with a golden scroll.

“To move up the next extermination!” He leaned forward and revealed the scroll, showing her it read ‘I do what I fucking want’. Your eyes widened at this, you weren't made aware of this, and Charlie was just as shocked as you were.

“What-?” She tried to reach up to grab the scroll. “Can't wait a whole year to slaughter those little cunts-” he suddenly ‘grabbed’ Charlie’s wrist. “It's only been a week, but we’ll be back in SIX MONTHS!” He then threw her and her drawings out of the meeting room.

You gasped, flying down as you tried to worm your way past Adam, but he took this the wrong way as he used his wing to push you closer to him, in an embrace as he finished his guitar riff.

You watched as Charlie desperately called out for him to wait, as the door shut on her.

As Adam finished his riff, the guitar disappeared.

You had enough, “what the hell was that?!” You spat angrily, causing him to raise a brow. “What? That sickass guitar solo? Did it get you creaming in your shorts? Because that was the point”

“No!” You growled. “You just- you just threw her out!” You gestured to the door. “You barely let her speak, you wasted half of this meeting on random bullshit no one but you cares about!”

Adam narrowed his eyes, “Sorry, I think my ears must be ringing cause it sounds like you're bitching to me about treating a demon like a demon.” He sassed, crossing his arms.

Your hands clenched into fists, “if you were just going to tell her that you were going to kill her people in six months then why did you waste this time and give her false hope?”

“I didn't do anything..” he shrugged. “It's not my fault that dumb bimbo thought I'd actually listen to her.”

You wanted to rip your hair out, “god! You're such a dick Adam!”

“Thanks, I am the original after all. I'm sorry I'm not a pansy and didn't lie to her face, lying is a demon's job. Look, I don't get why you're so upset . I told her how it is.”

You growled, he just wasn't getting it. You were sure he'd never will. “Fuck you.” You spat.

“That's what I'm trying to get you do, babes”

“Ugh! I'm done here, if you need me. You can go to sera since my opinion clearly doesn't matter to you anyways…” you grumbled as you exited the meeting room.

As you made your way back to your room, your eyes glanced up at one of the stained glass windows on the wall, it was of heaven and hell. The window depicted the vibrancy and holiness of heaven as the angels sent Lilith and Lucifer down to hell; while hell was painted grimly and monstrously dark as possible.

You sighed, you recognized a figure, stopping in front of the window. You gently reached up to caress Lucifer’s face, before you glanced at Lilith. You felt a sudden pull to two figures, you didn't know why.

“What secrets are they hiding from me?” You asked no one in particular. “Why do I feel like I know you.”

Please forget that I've been edging yall with this chapter for 4 months mkay thanks bbg. Also please give me theories in the comments I love seeing ppl theorize . Also join my discord <333

@king-zacharyy @mixplara @lukerycyja-reblogs

[fandomsmadness]

TBHX episode 13 rant

Raving reviews this week, the return of the groan-worthy action cliffhangers, and a lot of appreciation for feminist themes.

Almost missed the title card in this one because I've gotten used to them being front and center. Anyway, spoilers below cut

Firstly, let me go and find my humble cap because after spending so long (along with most of the fandom) groaning and laughing in equal measure at a "loli" hero, now I feel like a goddamned jerk who really should've known better. This episode properly owned me and I will take that well deserved kick in the butt and apologize to Loli for every time I looked at that character PV and thought "huh she seems kinda shallow."

This theme has grabbed me by the hair and is refusing to let go. Such a strong hero motivation too. As someone who wasn't really expecting much out of the Loli arc, this hit me like a sledgehammer. So much to unpack, but in as brief terms as possible, two aspects I really love about how this theme relates to other worldbuilding aspects:

Queen and how she's serving as inspiration to all girls out there. This is why representation of any and all kinds matter

Trust value and how people's perceptions of you influence your own abilites, regardless of how skilled or strong you actually are (are we projecting into real life? Oh definitely)

But also, massive props to Luo Li for deciding to become a hero in her own (very cute very girly) terms and not deciding to be hyper macho when it was clear it's not her style, just because other people want to. This theme of people's perception of you affecting how they treat you? Personal attacks all around, I haven't felt this called out in ages.

It's also very telling, and again reflective of real life, that Luo Li needed to find another girl to really understand her because all the men (by which I mean, that one guy) want her help fulfilling their own visions. Side note: Men suck.

The only guy here who was not warranting my wrath was professor Luo, but even he is shown (like a lot of Asian men, tbh) to be very caring, engaged in, and involved at work while neglecting his own family. Still, at least he didn't grind Luo Li's dreams to the ground, I suppose.

I could gush about the patriarchy and feminist themes in this episode forever, but we move on, before this turns into an academic essay.

Second highlight: Creepy guy aka Ghostblade-is-that-you???

Ngl my first reaction was "Spiderman Noir? What are you doing here?"

Somehow, LHO made a creep look socially-awkward-in-a-kinda-cute-way and I am having mixed reactions to the fact that I'm even thinking this is kinda cute. Is it just me?

Anyway, if this is Ghostblade (and I really hope it is) then what is he doing? Watching over Nuonuo? Is this the daughter? Or is he protecting her for some reason because he knew about the DJ whoever and his musical atrocities?

Speaking of DJ Shindig (can I send flowers to whoever came up with that name) is this a hero gone rogue? I thought only Zero did that. Is this guy allied with Aether Labs/Spotlight org/fear?

Someone somewhere mentioned that despite the English sub (as usual) not being accurate, the Chinese names for Glimmer lab and Aether labs are the same, so.... the rise of Spotlight?

Overall, a fantastic episode because it was heavy on the worldbuilding and related themes, gave us a lot to think about in terms of Luo Li, feminism, timeline, trust value, and most importantly Spotlight, but also is a great introduction to her arc as a whole. And hey, it's still June, so happy pride again to all the lesbians who are screaming out there.

Also, she's so small. Not even 20? Adorable.

Other minor things:

Is it a sub issue or is this ep more heavy on the wording? Like I swear the language didn't get this flowery until now-

This suit cool. That's all

Lastly, fuck you guys

And three more weeks until we circle back to exactly what Big Johnnie was pissed off about over here, lest we forget