#but at least he's not being a total pushover and standing up for /himself/ so that's some change from bfb

[awwbject]

They hit Book so the episode is automatically a 10/10

[guttedwhxre]

─ 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 ❞ multiple slashers

UNDER THE CUT: bo sinclair, michael myers, billy loomis & stu macher

tw: reader death ment, violence, torture ment

author's note: photo courtesy of @/pngsnail <3 also, hi everyone! i missed you, did you miss me?

michael is one of the most particular of the slashers, and dating him means you must be able to handle his peculiarities. this requires patience and resilience to do so, losing your temper would only result in pissing him off. michael won’t have quarter for being patronized and demeaned, not anymore. a pissed off michael typically means a deadly michael — but your death won’t be immediate. he’ll toy with you, gradually making your life worse and worse. he’ll allow you to keep blowing up at him, snap at him, until one night michael ends it all, for good. as you look up at him while you bleed out on the floor, cursing him under your breath, he’ll slowly don his mask, and leave you there without a second thought. 

while he won’t allow a bad temper, or disrespect of any kind, michael is surprisingly lenient about you boundaries. as long as you’re firm, and gentle he’ll let it slide. in fact, he almost encourages it. in his own, twisted way. again, michael will push you in small ways until something is done about it. here you can blow up, or collect yourself and gently, yet firmly tell him what he’s done wrong and ask him to stop. that’s only the first part however, as you have to consistently keep these boundaries, or michael will push, push, and keep pushing. 

don’t let him threaten you. he’s not actually trying to kill you when he holds his blade to your neck, no, just testing you. even if you’re into that, you have to be able to differentiate between play time, and a test. once you know that’s he’s testing you, cut him off there. ask that he doesn’t put his knife to you outside of play time, and he’ll slowly drop the knife from your neck, tracing it down your front as he tries to initiate play. however, if you let him press the cold steel into your neck, sit still as his gaze rests on his knife and your supple flesh - he’ll stop there, for now. then another day, when he comes home, he’ll “accidentally” cut you with his knife, watch as you rush around to clean and cover up the wound, gently asking him to be more careful next time. more little “accidents” will follow, each one more life-threatening than the last, and it’ll become more apparent that michael is toying with you. he just wants to see what will happen! just because you let him each time, he wants to see your breaking point. if that ends in your death, well, michael still got what he wanted. to see you break. 

to be clear, michael isn’t very picky about what kind of person you are. just stay consistent, keep your boundaries and make them clear, don’t be a pushover, then you and michael will be very happy together.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

bo is a simple man. at least, that’s how he’d describe himself. he describes his ideal mate as the perfect house-spouse kind — docile, quiet, stays out of the way. but that is far from the truth. someone who submits with no questions asked, all of the time, would bore him. nah, bo sinclair needs someone to match his temper, his fire, not take any of his bullshit. when he blows up, shouts, you need to be able to stand your ground, and sometimes shout right back. it surprises him being challenged, excites him, even. go ahead baby, put him in his place. 

like with michael, constantly shouting and losing your temper at bo wouldn’t be the best idea. it wouldn’t result in your death, just a constant, toxic cycle of fighting and making up. it’s not fun, nor is it worth the exhaustion. you have to be able to know when to fight fire with fire, and when to back down and let bo do his thing. 

bo, to be totally honest, isn’t the kindest guy. he puts on a front for the tourists, sure, but that’s just that – a facade. to be with bo sinclair, you have to have tough skin. he’ll throw more than one insensitive comment your way, about your hair that day, your complexion, hell your weight, even if it’s not intentional. he’s never had to hold his tongue before, why would he now? you’ve gotta stand up for yourself, or else the comments will keep coming, and probably worsen over time. 

all of the sinclair brothers have been through a lot, and it’s affected them in different ways. but for all of them, bo especially, empathy will go a long, long way. take into consideration why he lashes out the way he does and be able to understand why. you don’t have to excuse his actions, just be able to tolerate them, and of course — stand up for yourself. 

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

with billy and stu, you’ve gotta be able to take a joke. a lot of jokes, at that. at your expense, the expense of others, billy and stu have absolutely NO filter and that won’t change when you’re around. be happy it doesn’t! it means they trust you. billy is meaner than stu by a longshot, so be prepared for them to take shots at you. to get them to stop, or at the very least let up a little, go at them right back! joke back or tell them to fuck off, either works. just avoid the topic of mommy issues unless you want a knife to your neck in a not fun way. 

you don’t need something super special to make them interested in you — just be you. do your own thing, mind your own business, be content with yourself. that kind of casual confidence is enthralling, and if one of them picks up on it, trust me, the other will know shortly after. 

gotta be okay with a little kick-back every once in a while — stu likes to party and billy is just fine tagging along, so that means you have to be too! stick to one of them the whole party if you need, though i don’t suggest it as it can very well lead to semi-public sex. unless, sweet thing, that’s exactly what you’re looking for — then be my guest!

stu is handsy. incredibly so. he needs to touch you often, so you’ve gotta be okay with physical contact frequently. he can’t help it! you’re so precious and touchable it makes his heart melt (and his cock hard). if you say no one too many times he’ll tattle on you to billy, which nobody wants — least of all you. billy is fiercely protective of both of you, and stu knows how spoiled he is. he will surely use that to his advantage, even if it’s to your detriment. 

billy often takes the lead when it comes to the three of you, and stu gives up control willingly, eagerly even. you don’t have to be as excited about it as stu is, but it’s best to hand control over day to day decisions to billy. he gets a little bitchy if you don’t, and no one wants a bitchy billy. just whisper to him that he knows best, that’s he’s so strong and capable…and then maybe you can slip a little suggestion in, and he’ll take it. since you’ve been so good…so yes, they’re both very susceptible to seduction.

billy and stu just want you to be you. if you can accept them at their ugliest, most carnal, real selves, they will gladly accept you.

xoxo, babe 💋ྀིྀི

[beatcroc]

please for the character asks could you tell me abt 4, 5, & 24 for fake pep my friend fake pep. if im allowed to ask multiple (if not just pick your favorite eheh)

4. If you could put this character in any other media, be it a book, a movie, anything, what would you put them in?

ah, this is a bad one for me... i'm really not much for crossovers except for really dumb arbitrary shit like 'oh these characters have the same kinda concept/aesthetic similarity'.... fp is a particularly hard one to separate from his canon bc of the very specific processes that brought him into being, and also that he's a clone of a different guy in said canon on top of that. if anything i'd just say the obligatory 'give that boy a pokemon team'. i dont have a pokemon team for fp and i can't be assed to think of one, but it's a fun one to see when it comes up yknow.

5 i already answered on the previous one lol

24. What other character from another fandom of yours that reminds you of them?

fp is a very unique character to me so i'm cheesing out on this one and going with an oc instead lmao. he shares a lot with my girl magnolia!

they are both fucked up and [more or less] indestructible beasts made of unnatural gunk, where they're effectively the only thing of their kind and no one really gets how they like, work, so their companion is continually in the process of discovering new weird shit they do; and also the both have every right to be [& frequently are] terrifying to people who don't know/understand them but actually they are just the biggest sweethearts. also, autism metaphors out the wazoo.

there is actually quite a lot about fake pep's characterization that i've lifted directly from magnolia, haha. i think the biggest things are that 1. while fully sapient and mature, he tends to come off as dumb or childish simply because until very recently he wasn't able to learn shit or fuck about how the regular world & everyday life works [which does not come naturally on account of being a weird gunk beast], and 2. his having a lot of anxiety about hurting people from not knowing his own strength/abilities in relation to other people's boundaries and limitations. [though fp will at least stand up for himself if it comes to it, magnolia is kind of a total pushover] there's smaller flavor stuff too--it hasn't come up yet, but there's a thing with his speech where names and proper nouns are the only things that don't get garbled. it'll show up in the gerome comic, whenever i get to that :y

[coffinsister]

Eeee so I can't pick a favorite between Ashley and Andrew but when I was playing it I definitely saw Ashley as sorta yandere vibes? Like yknow with the girl dying in the box was the primary example, Andrew going along with it too was like 👀 because why would he go along with killing someone unless he was either The Biggest Doormat (which i definitely understand seeing the creator's notes) or he was also vaguely yandere but not acknowledging it. There's a lot of toxicity between them obviously and a lot of trauma (not sure where from aside from whole being locked in the apartment for Hecc knows how long and maybe neglectful parents) but they seem to be reading the same book but they're not the same page if that makes sense. Andrew probably also has some Older Sibling syndrome going on there because he cares about Ashley if reluctantly sometimes and takes responsibility for things, while Ashley makes sense as the younger sibling (as an older sister myself it at least was recognizable with how Andrew was telling Ashley she had to realize what they'd done at the end of the chapter) and with the whole demon thing it made me wonder what the talisman will show Ashley or if there will be more complicated horror with the two of them encountering more cultists or if their parents had something to do with the issue because I definitely agree on the whole sus mom thing

All in all I love how the game gives us enough information to see kind of where it could go but doesn't spoil the plot and the Coffin part of the title definitely gave me 4th wall thoughts similar to Homestuck. The apartment/demon occult based horror is similar to Sally Face too so it just took the gremlins and made me super interested in the story. If i ever write anything i'll definitely send it to you!! I work as a writer off of tumblr for a larp company currently though so my brain is a bit fried but I love this game a lot and it was super interesting to see what was going on in the story 👀

Thank you !!! Don't overheat your brain anymore than necessary to survive in the techno capitalist hellscape singularity we are currently in but if you do find the time to write anything that would be amazing :D

And now to answer everything else:

I love both siblings for their own reasons I really do but I fell in love with Andrew the moment I saw him because brocon tendencies defeat all sorts of common sense immediately for me

Yeah Ashley totally fits into the yandere archetype except she's more real I would say and she's definitely more western than full on anime like

I say she's more real because she's actually shown to struggle a lot with socialization and with her parents and just seems to be rejected by the world around her because of her personality instead of just being a random girl who somehow exists with that behavior and it's okay

Yeah I actually don't really understand Andrew's motivations for going along with stuff all that deeply I always feel like there's something I'm missing with him but mostly I just see it as well he genuinely really cares for his sister and doesn't want to see her in distress and he's super codependent as well and cannot lose and he's a pushover too and finds it easier to go along and blame her for everything instead of standing up to her and risk losing her and then having to confront himself

As Ashley did say she's the only person he can be real with so he can't stand to lose her

I also totally think he's yandere on his own right like maybe yandere wouldn't be the right term for him because he definitely doesn't present himself at first as more approachable like Ashley does but he's still super overprotective of her

Like straight up one of the like 7 times the Rage sprite is used twice are just for the time where Ashley makes the comment about getting pregnant from their neighbor

So yeah they are both yanderes for each other and we love that for them

Personally I see the trauma from them steming from yeah killing that girl that's definitely not something you can just walk off but also from their parents seeming to be very detached and neglectful of them and also from Ashley specifically I see her as somebody who's never managed to have a long lasting relationship of any type with anybody other than Andrew

She expresses that just who she is and her personality makes people turn away from her and that over so much time and starting up from so young can really mess a person up

And then she starts isolating Andrew too and they wind up becoming dependant on each other and no matter what forcing one person to carry the weight that a whole entire social circle should is always going to end up turning toxic ah~ which is what I so love about them I'm just a natural sucker for toxic siblings dynamics

Actually your perspective saying that Ashley fits as a little sister is really interesting to me because I am a little sister I can't really understand how older siblings look at their younger siblings but I can see a lot of how me and my older sister are like in just how they banter and stuff

Like that bit where Andrew is like nope you go get the batteries It was like a Deja Vu for me swear to God

I definitely think the whole prophetic dreams stuff is gonna play a big role in the full game and I'm really looking forwards to the horror potential of it all

I also really enjoy the idea of Ashley being super paranoic all the time about everything she dreams because what if she interprets it wrong what if she doesn't see the right thing what if it ends up getting Andrew hurt and as much as he doesn't want him to be able to live on without her that stems from the fact that she definitely cannot live on without him

One thing I really enjoy about dystopian stories is that they tell you just enough they make you feel like the world was already here before you and you are just watching it at the moment and this game does that so well

I know nothing about Homestuck but everyday I learn something new about it as it seems

And sorry, as you can probably tell, I can talk a whole lot about my special interests jejeje (��﹏⁰).

[duhragonball]

Dragon Ball Super 093

“All right, hear me out.  We’ll call it ‘Dragon Ball Super,’ okay?  And we’ll spend the first 28 episodes redoing the movies, but with worse animation.  Then we’ll get in a tournament that’s a total mismatch, with each finish screwier than the last!  And then we’ll do a time travel story with an unsatisfying ending! Oh, and all our chins will be really pointy for some reason.  And then we’ll team up with Frieza!  Well, what do you think?”

Okay, so the Universe 7 team is down a man after Buu fell into a deep sleep, so they need a tenth member.  And they definitely need a tenth member.  As the Supreme Kai puts it, Grand Zeno specifically called for each universe to field a team of ten.  Showing up with nine might irritate Zeno enough to disqualify the team and destroy their universe before the event even begins.

So Goku’s big idea is to recruit Frieza.  No one likes the idea of resurrecting him with the Dragon Balls again, but Goku plans to use Fortuneteller Baba instead, as she has the power to bring back dead fighters for one day.  We saw her use this with Grandpa Gohan, then Goku, then Vegeta.  So even if Goku’s plan backfires, Frieza can only do so much mischief in a single days’ time. 

The others are still skeptical, and Vegeta suggests they get literally anyone to stand in as their tenth member.  That guy can jump out of the ring immediately and let the rest of them fight.  Goku asks Whis if they can win with just the nine of them, and Whis thinks they might be in trouble if they tried that.  He doesn’t know anything about the other teams, but he has heard of one universe with a mortal who defeated a God of Destruction.  I’m pretty sure he’s talking about Jiren, but he doesn’t get into specifics.  Whis also adds that this was no pushover god that was defeated, either.  This one was stronger than Beerus, and the mortal still won, so the competition will be stiff to say the least. 

Meanwhile, in Universe 6, Caulifla tries to get Kale to turn Super Saiyan, but Kale isn’t very confident about it.  Caulifla and Cabba try insulting Kale to get her mad, but that goes poorly, as Caulifla gets offended on Kale’s behalf.  While they bicker, Kale gets frustrated with her own inability and...

Whoa that ain’t good.  Or is it?

Meanwhile, in Universe 4, Ganos delivers news to Quitela and Kuru.  Ganos is one of the U4 team, but Quitela sent him to spy on Universe 7 and he learned about the plan to recruit Frieza.  This gives Quitela a brilliant idea...

Back in U6, Kale goes wild, attacking Cabba in particular.  Cabba speculates that Kale must have felt like she was being left behind with all this Super Saiyan business, and she’s lashing out in jealousy. 

So Caulifla gets between them and tells Kale that it’s ridiculous to think she’d be “attracted” to someone like Cabba, and Kale “means the world” to her.  Yeah, I think the dub abandoned any pretense of subtext, and this dialogue is more about how clearly they can spell it out without just announcing they’re gay.  I mean, this sort of talk is basically how they handled the Trunks/Mai relationship earlier in the series. 

Anyway, this calms Kale down, and Cabba realizes that he may have just found another recruit for the Tournament of Power.

In hell, Goku approaches Frieza with his proposal, and Frieza makes a counteroffer: He’ll join the team, but only if Goku agrees to wish Frieza back to life with the Dragon Balls.  Goku suggests that Frieza could use the Super Dragon Balls awarded at the end of the tournament, but Frieza doesn’t think so.  He doesn’t need a “super-wish” for his resurrection, and that prize only goes to the MVP of the team.  No, he’ll settle for a promise from Goku to wish him back with the regular Dragon Balls.  Goku is reluctant, but Frieza hints that he’s managed to get even stronger while in hell, but Goku won’t get to test himself against that power unless he wishes Frieza back.  And that convinces Goku to agree to his terms. 

Now, this always kind of bugged me, because Frieza seems to be under the mistaken impression that Earth’s Dragon Balls can revive him, even though Goku knows that they can’t be used to resurrect someone a second time.  Goku should be aware of this rule, since he’s had to cope with it on more than one occasion.  And yet, he agreed to Frieza’s terms without correcting him on the matter.  So was Goku tricking Frieza, or was he planning to use the Namekian Dragon Balls, and just didn’t want to bother explaining that to him?

Ultimately, it doesn’t matter, as we’ll see in the final episode, but it always bothered me how we didn’t know if Goku was playing Frieza or not. 

Anyway, Goku makes the arrangements with Baba, and we’re all set. 

[iwantutobehapppier]

Our Future

Pairing: Dark Steve Roger x reader

Summary: You left Steve after he did the unforgivable. But what lengths will he go to to make you forgive him? 

Warnings: +18 only, smut, dark themes, sex pollen, dubious consent cause ya know, implied cheating, dark Steve Rogers, dark avengers. Please if any of this bothers you read no further.

Word Count: 2.924

A/N: Happy 7th night of Chanukah! It’s almost to the end! Can you believe it?! Thank you everyone who has read, and reblogged. It means the world to me! Hope you enjoy this nice Dark Steve Rogers fic. Shout out to the ever talented @imanuglywombat​ for helping bounce some ideas off on this one I didn’t know totally where to go and she helped me find my way.

Trying best to hid your wince you hold your dislocated arm close to you to ease any jarring as you make your way up the ramp into the Quinjet. You’re fairly certain you’re bleeding somewhere if the wetness you feel in your suit is any indication. All you wanted to do was get back to the compound, see medical, then make your way to SHIELD Strike quarters with some good narcos.

“Let me see your arm,” you could break glass with the intensity your jaw clenches at the sound of his voice.

“I’d rather let it fall off,” Steve sighed at your clipped tone, he moves to reach to your arm to set it but you jerk away. Unable to hold in the grunt of pain. Steve frowns at your stubbornness

“I don’t want you touching me,” adamant to solidify your words you take a seat.

“Fine be in pain see if I care,” he stomps off not missing your muttering “You never did care.”

Steve could admit that gutted him. His steps faltered for a fraction. He cared for you more than his own life, more than stupid missions. Sometimes he was just a fucking idiot with women. He’d find a way to fix it though.

Squaring his shoulders he keeps walking to the pilot seat, sitting next to Bucky in the co-pilot seat who side-eyes him. “You gonna leave her like that?”

“She won’t let me touch her,” Buckling himself in he tries his best to keep the pain at bay. Was it really that bad that he couldn’t even set your shoulder back? You’d just sit there in pain than even have him touch you?

He knew you would be mad at him for a while but he figured after 3 months some of your ire would wane.

“Hm,” Bucky watches Steve start up the QuinJet controls, “well can you blame her?”

“Told you not to let her catch you,” he flicks Steve’s ear who tries to swat the hand away, “ever,” Bucky’s condescending tone the same he’d been hearing for months on end since the incident.

“Please don’t start too.” Bucky shrugs flipping switches in response to Steve’s prepping the Quinjet for take off.

Bucky turns his head back, catching your figure way in the back, head tilted down. Your slowed heart rate indicating you’d fallen asleep. He turns back to Steve.

“Now you’ve fucked it by letting her catch you with a side piece,” Steve can’t help but roll his eyes, if Bucky went on about this one more time he was liable to punch his best friend unconscious.

“I wouldn’t start if you’d not fucked this up,” Steve grunts wishing for this conversation to not start-up once more, “how long did I have to hear you going on and on about wanting her?”

“I offered my help,” Bucky bobbed his head back and forth in mock “But no the Great Steve Rogers had to woo her.” He scoffs, resituating himself in his seat.

“My side piece? The girl was yours after all.” Steve recalls for Bucky.

“Yeah well let’s be thankful she didn’t know that when she caught you balls deep in her.” there’s a soft snort from you and they both look back catching their breath. They were fairly certain you hadn’t heard anything, but still...

“All I’m saying is fix it,” Bucky grumbles in a whisper looking directly at his pal, “Cause if I have to hear you whine about not being with her one more time-”

“Yeah I get it, Buck,” Steve sighed looking back at you once more.

Once you’re all back at the compound Steve is hot on your tail following you toward medical. You wanted to scream at him but with your loss of blood, still not sure where from, and the pain in your shoulder you didn’t have any fight left in you.

Steve should have headed his buddy’s words of giving you more space but he was unwilling to be apart any longer. You just had to forgive him and let it go. Simple as that. He’d make sure you saw it that way too. It’s not like you knew about all the other times.

A nurse sees you before you can say anything and you’re ushered into a room the door shutting in Steve’s face. Your snide smile makes his hands ball up.

Pushing his thumb to the entry bad you stick your tongue out when it blares at him denied entry. Of course, you would have made sure FRIDAY knew to keep him away from you. He’d get in. He could see through the partially closed vertical blinds making out your figure removing your gear and uniform. Licking his lips at the outline of your breasts.

It had been too long since he’d had sex. None of the other girls did it for him anymore, knowing you weren’t at home waiting for him to go another round with. He had to get in.

Looking at the pad he types in the override code and smiles in triumph with the door slides open for him to come in, shutting after his entry.

Turning around after finally getting the gown on provided for you, you hiss at the sight of him “Why don’t you bother whatever whore’s bed you crawled out of today?”

“I am not sleeping-”

“I don’t really care Steven.” the resignation in your voice when you interrupt him leaves him speechless. You had been mad at him, that’s all he had seen since that night. Just your fire.

“I’m not the one who stepped out of our relationship,” You squeezed your eyes tight trying to will the overbearing oaf out of your life.

“That’s not fair, as far I knew you-” Eyes snapping open at his pathetic excuses you whipped around, finger-pointing. Steve couldn’t help but inhale the smell of your shampoo at the quick turn. God, he missed you.

“I what? Slept with some dude?” Your fingernail presses into his chest, not caring that he couldn’t feel it through his suit, “Well, I didn’t but you couldn’t listen to me so you went,” you jab your finger into his chest feeling the anger flash through you as if it was that night all over again “and got your dick wet with one of those SHIELD trainees.”

Saving you from this hell the nurse comes in with supplies to tend to your wound and reset your shoulder. You step away from Steve to fall onto the bed, the nurse starting on the gash across your abdomen.

”Go” The soft defeat in your voice, turning your to the side catching his gaze from the corner of your eyes.

“I want to be here,” he makes a step towards you, ignoring the way you hiss at the antiseptic being applied makes his stomach turn. He never did enjoy seeing you uncomfortable, it reminded him of his younger years feeling helpless.

“Please,” You whimper, “If you love or ever loved me you’ll leave me alone.” looking at the nurse you try to convey your apologies for the awkward situation you put her in

“I’ve always loved you,” you can barely find it in you to scoff in disbelief at his words, just so tired of this back and forth.

“Sure have a fucked up way of showing it.”

He knew he had to leave, the finality in your tone let him know there was no moving you. Just yet.

Four weeks, he didn’t see you for four weeks. It was making him irritable, he doesn’t have to talk to you but to at least see your face even with the surly look you give him now would be enough. But nothing for four weeks.

“If you sigh one more time I’m gonna blast a hole through your chest,” Tony declared pointing the blaster cannon he’s tinkering with at Steve.

“I mean you can find another girl right?” Bruce offers before Bucky can stop him, scrambling in his chair. The four of them sitting in Tony’s lab relaxing, having guy time. Well, now it’s just friends’ time. It used to be guy time when he had you.

“No, don’t-” Bucky buries his face in his hands resting elbows on his knees after seeing Steve’s face scrunch up. 

“Find another girl?” Steve lamented. Oh if it was so simple.

“Well fuck now you started it.” Bucky groans into his hands. He had just gotten him to agree to getting out of the apartments and spending time with some people.

“What?” Bruce looks around confused at his suggestion. It seemed reasonable, there is plenty of fish in the sea as they say.

“I can’t just find another girl like her, she’s one of a kind. Full of fire and passion but nurturing. She’s everything I’ve ever wanted. But she won’t talk to me,” Steve cards his fingers through his hair messing up the perfectly comb style. “I know if I could get her just have an honest conversation we could work past this.”

“Maybe if you had some HYDRA truths serum you could get her to talk,” Bucky sits up straight sure Steve is done for now.

“Why not give her the serum?” Bruce offers nonchalantly.

“The serum?” Steve raises an eyebrow.

“Dude!” Tony reprimands Bruce who has the audacity to look confused by Tony’s displeasure

“It’s just this thing we made,” Tony opens his mouth before Bruce can start. “Nothing just gets someone to express their thoughts as they come to them and cannot stop.”

“A truth serum.” Bucky offered.

“Nooo,” Tony rolls his eyes, “it’s just a serum that makes them… talk.” Bruce looks at Tony in confusion.

“That’s not the one I meant,” Bruce looks at Tony not picking up on his eyes shifting and grimace to get Bruce to stop talking.

“The one you call ‘Sex Pollen’,” Bucky tried to hide his chuckle with a cough, but Tony catches it glaring at him.

Steve stands up and marches to stand in front of Bruce who looks up at him. “UUh,”

“Show me.” Bruce can only nod at the authority in Steve’s voice.

“What a pushover,” Tony mutters going back to tinkering with his hand blaster. Bruce scampers away to return quickly with a vial.

“It lowers the progesterone and raises estrogen, but the only caveat is the hormones don’t level out until, well,” Bruce stutters trying to explain.

“Until you cum in her, mouth, pussy, ass anywhere,” Tony supplies, Steve’s brow raise, and Bucky stands up in curiosity. They all surround Bruce’s hand holding out the vial.

“Just a little bit,” Tony instructs, “And she’ll be crying for your cock.” All four men stare at the vial with varied interests. More so pride on Tony’s part. “It also makes them fertile as fuck so if you don’t want a baby don’t finish where you can have one.”

Tony chuckled to himself recalling a memory he fails to share. “That’s kind of how we got Morgan.”

“If you don’t give her what she needs, though, her body temperature will climb and well,” Bruce flusters himself trying to explain without being so technical.

“Boiled brain,” Tony finishes watching Steve grab the vial.

“Only about 3 drops bud,” Tony calls out to Steve’s retreating figure.

Steve heard him but his mind was focused on a plan to get you back. Using this he’d easily seduce you, show you why the two of you were so good together and leave a little present in your body tying him to you forever.

Yeah, this would work just fine.

Steve couldn’t believe his luck, you had left your quarters and he was able to slip in, put three drops in a water bottle on the kitchen he knew you’d finish soon.

Then he waited. It wasn’t 20 minutes later that he was knocking on your door upon your return. You were already flushed when you answered. He knew you had drunk the water, if not all of it.

“St-Steve?” You questioned, you had been doing so well not seeing him or knowing he even existed. It had helped so much in cooling your temper. However, it wasn’t to say you did miss him. You missed him something fierce when you were alone in bed using your toys. Toys that never compared to what Steve could do for you.

Eyeing his physique in front of you now was temping enough. The tight shirt showing his pecks and muscles hidden underneath, your eyes trailed down to the sweat pants sitting low on his hips. You had no shame licking your lips at the sight. Maybe you should have rubbed one out this morning?

Gripping the door frame tight you felt shivers run up and down your spine, centering in your underwear where you could feel growing dampness.

Steve,” you repeated, not failing to notice the way his eyes trail up and down your body. “What are you doing here?”

He smiles, pushing his way in, you stumble back giving him full entry into your living space. One part of you says to push him out but the other says to feel his pecs. Shaking your head you repeat yourself. “What are you doing here?”

Steve says your name, it’s deep, masculine, and soaking in desire. You teetered on your feet.

“You feeling okay baby girl?” he catches you in his grasp, though you weren’t really running. His arm around your back, the other holding your hip.

You try to speak but your throat feels suddenly too dry. Eyeing the water bottle on the counter Steve grabs it, keeping one arm behind your back, and hands it to you.

“Go on,” His eyes trained on your lips as you take the bottle to your mouth. You drink and Steve watches the way your throat moves with each swallow. Just as you’re about to take the bottle from your lips Steve tips the bottom of the bottle up making you swallow the remaining contents.

You keep eye contact even as he sets the bottle back down, his thumb running over your bottom lip collecting missed water. Without thinking your mouth opens and you twirl your tongue around his thumb. Collecting the remains.

“Such a good baby girl,” He purrs, your hands on their own accord trail up his shirt, nails dragging along the defined muscles.

“Yeah, you missed me huh?” You begin to nod your head but something shakes you from your stupor. Your eyes widen, hands on his chest begin to push trying to get him away but that only makes him pull you in against his chest.

Your head tilted up, looking at him with growing fear. “What-” you try to think clearly. “What did you do?”

“I only did what I had to,” His eyes shift to the side for a brief moment and when you look over you see the water bottle.

“Did you drug me?” Your words slur, and your hands that were once pushing him away began kneading his muscles under them.

Steve slides his hand down your back to cup your ass. Two fingers dipping between your butt cheeks and pushing you to your toes. When your body rocks against him you can feel his erection pressing into you.

“Its gonna be okay,” He coos, you fight the sensations pushing through, Your desire to rub up against him, the way his fingers feel so good pushing against your ass. A soft mewl pulls at your lips, feeling his chest rub against yours, nipples pebbling with arousal.

He flips you around holding your back to his chest, hands sliding down your sides to pull your shorts and underwear down. One hand cupping your mound, he groans at the dampness against your mound, You certainly had made a mess.

Tony wasn’t lying about this ‘sex pollen’.

“What did you do?” your voice softer than you want it to be. You should be screaming but your body is responding completely contradictory to how you want it to. When he pushes on your back sending your chest forward he doesn’t relieve the pressure until you’re bending in half.

“I’m reminding you how much you need me,” He pushes his sweats down to under his balls. He didn’t wear any boxers for this, no he wanted to be ready to enter you as soon as he could.

He leans back to groan at the sight of your pussy dripping with arousal. Oh, he may have to start giving you a drop of this every day if you were ready so quickly every time.

You moan when he drags his knuckles up and down your slit, admiring the way you rock on your tiptoes and back down pushing his cock against your ass. You knew you were asking him something but for the life of you, you couldn’t recall. All on your mind is how you can feel the heat of his fat cock behind you, the tip rubbing against your ass cheeks.

“What..?” You speak out, your subconscious trying to push through.

“I’m making sure you won’t leave me again baby,”

“No,” you mewl, upset at the thought of leaving him. Not when he makes you feel so good.

“It’s okay though,” he comforts you, gently caresses your sides before lining his cock to your entrance.

He pushes in grunting at the way you grip him, it had been so long since he’d be in you, and from the feel of your tightness it had been just as long for you to take anything inside.

“I’m securing our future.”

[bitch-for-bo]

His Destined Miracle (Asahi Azumane x Chubby Reader) (omegaverse)

POST timeskip

Asahi had been in love with you practically since the first time he saw you. He'd find himself taking walks around the office just to catch sight of your beautiful face and sunny, warm demeanor. He always wanted to approach you, but he'd never had the courage. All he could do was hope that he encountered a miracle. Going into a rut during a day that office was NOT a miracle to Asahi. In fact, it was one of his worst nightmares, but when you show up on his doorstep, looking like an angel from heaven, he realizes that miracles come in all different ways... and that you were his destined miracle.

ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS ALLOWED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Hey Y/N can you run these copies to the boss’s office, I have to go to the bathroom or I think I might die!!” One of your over-dramatic coworkers asked as they practically threw a stack of papers at you. They were shifting back and forth, their knees knocked as they hopped around in a little bathroom ‘dance’

“Yeah, it’s no biggie.” You replied, giggling quietly to yourself as they hobbled/ran quickly towards the restrooms.

You looked down at the stack of papers in your hands, admiring the brilliant pieces of art on each page. The boss would be very happy with these. Of course, if he was unhappy with them, he wouldn’t tell anyone, the boss was the type who if he didn’t like what he saw, he would improve it and then deny all credit. Some in the office called him a pushover, but you thought that it was sweet that he did that.

You stood from your cubicle and began to walk to the bosses office, it was on the other side of the floor but you had already been planning on getting up to stretch your legs out soon anyway, so it had worked out.

You strolled through the office, not in any particular rush to get to the boss’s office. You greeted people that you passed, you knew everyone on your floor by name and you knew at least one fact about them, if they had pets or kids, what their hobbies were. You did this so that you’d never run into someone and not be able to ask them a question about their personal life, this ‘technique’ is what had made you so popular around the office, every time you would talk to someone, they would walk away with a smile on their face.

Your naturally sunny demeanor had always been your redeeming trait. When you were young, kids would mercilessly bully you. The names they would call you, ‘fatty’ or ‘ugly cow’ along with the treatment you received for being an omega was enough to tear a young you apart. You had started being overly nice to people to make up for all of your shortcomings, you found that if you were constantly sucking up to them and making them feel better about themselves, they wouldn’t hurt you.

Unfortunately, this had led to you not only being incredibly insecure with very low self-esteem, but also a doormat for people to walk all over. You were always doing people favors, getting them coffees, paying for their snacks at vending machines, even doing their work for them. Your friends would tell you to stick up for yourselves, they would even tell people off if they treated you poorly in front of them. They had begun to practically beg you to start saying no to people, but you didn’t mind being a bit of a push-over. After all, you still thought of yourself as a worthless, fat, omega cow that couldn’t do anything right and if you could be useful to someone, even if it meant staying an extra hour to file their paperwork for them, it was worth it.

You frowned at the memories as you walked, catching sight of yourself in the large windows that overlooked the beautiful city outside. You winced. Even though your friends were constantly telling you that you were beautiful inside and out, it was still hard to look at yourself in the mirror. All of the traumatic events of your childhood had really affected you. It was almost impossible for you to look at yourself and not despise the person you saw.

You arrived at the boss’s office, giving a light knock on the closed door.

“Come in please.” You heard the soft voice call from inside. You twisted the knob, opened the door, and entered the room, gasping at the sight before you.

Hundreds of designs were strewn across the floor, tacked to the walls, and pulled up on the computer monitor, and in the middle of it all sat a six-foot-two alpha who was currently smiling shyly up at you, his hand rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment of the mess.

“Hel-”

He stopped, his eyes wide as they stared at you. Clearly, you weren’t the person he’d been expecting. He stared at you for a solid five seconds, saying nothing as his eyes were frozen on you, making you feel extremely self-conscious and a little hot under the collar.

You cleared your throat, snapping him out of his daze.

“Excuse me.” You said. As soon as you’d spoken the boss had got up onto his knees and looked around as if wondering how he would get to you without ruining his designs.

“Sorry about the mess.” He mumbled, a large blush blooming on his cheeks as he scrambled up and towards you, trying (and failing) to avoid stepping on the designs.

“Please! Don’t apologize!” You stumbled, matching his anxious energy as your face adopted a blush of its own. “I just came to give these to you!” You squeaked, your arms holding out the designs as your gaze locked on the cluttered floor.

“Oh.” The large male said gently, his shoulders relaxing. “Thank you.” He said, more confidently this time. He’d noticed that you were emitting a strongly anxious scent, and something about it must’ve scared him and made him think that he was scaring you.

“Your welcome.” You practically whispered, your eyes not daring to meet his, “Have a good day.” You rushed out before rushed back out of the room, letting the door almost slam behind you.

‘Dammit!’ you thought, mentally slapping yourself. You couldn’t believe you’d made such a fool out of yourself. You just couldn’t help it, the boss was super intimidating. Plus he was an alpha.

Being an alpha meant that, since you were an omega, you had a natural urge to submit to him, it also meant that he was incredibly intimidating, borderline scary.

Usually, it didn’t matter that you were an omega. You took scent and heat suppressants to control your natural omega tendencies. The suppressors made it to where no wolf could smell you and you couldn’t smell any wolf. People could smell the basics on you, fear, happiness, sadness, they just couldn’t smell your natural scent, the scent that gave you away as an omega. The suppressants also kept you from smelling other wolves and ‘losing control’ of your own scent as a reaction. This all meant that even if you encountered betas and alphas in your daily activities, they wouldn’t know you were an omega and you wouldn’t be able to smell their natural scents either.

The only exception to this was when an alpha was in a rut, when they were rutting their noses were strengthened tenfold and they could sniff you out in an instant., but thankfully, society had progressed to the point that ruts were an excused absence from your job. Another time that the suppressants weren’t at their full potency was during your heat. Yes, it suppressed almost all of your scent, but depending on the strength of your heats, some would still leak out. Thankfully, heats were also excusable by employers. Luckily you’d never had to leave work for heat, you’d always been able to track it and take off plenty early so you could lock yourself in your apartment and suffer through it, and you’d also been lucky enough to never encounter a rutting alpha.

*******************

Asahi Azumane, aka the boss, was still standing in front of his closed door. He stared at the closed door, the designs he’d been given loosely clutched in his hands.

‘Dammit!’ he thought. He couldn't believe how he’d reacted. How embarrassing!

Ever since the newest member of the floor had begun working at the studio as a financial advisor, Asahi had been incredibly infatuated. Even though he’d never held a conversation with her due to his busy schedule, he never failed to notice the way she lit up the office. Everyone liked her and got along with her. Sometimes he’d overhear people talking about her, or sometimes he’d even overhear her talking to someone, she always seemed so warm and kind that Asahi couldn’t help but be a little jealous that he’d never received the honor of ever talking to her.

When she had been the one to open the door to his office, he’d been practically incapacitated. As soon as his eyes had hit her body he’d forgotten how to talk.

As a designer he couldn’t help but admire the classy style of her outfit, the warm red-orange turtleneck tucked into a pair of brown and tan flared slacks paired with black platform boots. It took all of his willpower not to pull out a pencil and sketch it for inspiration.

And as a man, he couldn’t help but admire how the outfit fit your body perfectly. The way that it hugged your form, complementing and accentuating the curves of your figure. It was enough to take his breath away and make the alpha in him roar with the need to claim and protect such a precious sight.

Unfortunately for Asahi, as soon as the encounter with the angel began, it ended. He was beating himself up for not saying something, for not inviting you to dinner, for only staring like a lovestruck loser.

‘She probably thinks I’m a total loser...or even worse a pervert!’ he thought glumly. He sulked back over to his designs, frustrated at himself for not being bold enough to call after the beautiful girl and ask for her number.

‘Then again,’ he thought, ‘Y/N is way too out of my league, she’d reject me in a heartbeat. Or even worse! She’d say yes out of pity!’

As he continued to work on his designs, the thought of the angel that had visited him was clouding his mind, making work impossible. He just couldn’t seem to forget the shape of her lips as she spoke or the way that the perfect outfit laid on her perfect body....her perfect hips….her perfect breasts.

“Fuck” he grunted quietly, shifting uncomfortably as he realized that he’d thought himself straight into having an erection.

‘I just couldn’t help it. She’s so beautiful.’ he thought.

He tried to struggle through his… problem, but it seemed that the more he tried to ignore it, the more it persisted. It was actually to the point that he was sitting in the middle of his office, red-faced and panting with a painfully obvious tent in his pants.

“What the fuck is happening?” He grunted, feeling his canines start to lengthen and his claws emerge. Could he be going into rut already? He wasn’t due for at least another week!

Was it seeing Y/N that made him go into rut early? How? Y/N wasn’t his mate….right? No. He would’ve known if she was his mate by her scent. He had no recollection of ever smelling her, was she on suppressants, was there a chance that she could be his mate?

‘Yep.’ Asahi thought as another wave of heat and desire burst through his body, ‘I’ve started my rut early…. I need to get out of here…. Need to go home.’

He practically crawled to his desk, grasping desperately for his phone so he could call the receptionist and ask her to remove all of the females on the floor from the building. The last thing that he needed or wanted was to set off any omega’s heat by accident.

“Hello, Mr. Azumane. Is everything alright?” The receptionist asked, surprised at the call seeing as Asahi rarely called, opting to physically walk to the desk and ask. He thought that it was more polite this way, plus it gave him a chance to catch a glimpse of Y/N at her desk.

“I need all of the women on the floor to temporarily evacuate, I’ve gone into a rut.”

The receptionist on the other end, that was used to dealing with Asahi’s over-anxious personality, just laughed.

“That’s incredibly unnecessary sir. I’m sure everything will be fine if you just leave out of the back stairs, you could even leave out of the fire escape if you’re that nervous.”

Asahi sighed and nodded. It was true that he’d be wasting everyone’s time if he asked for an evacuation. It wasn’t that big of a deal.

“Ok……” he said warily. “I’ll try.”

“Great!” The receptionist replied, “I’ll make sure to get someone to bring your work to your house tomorrow so you can continue to work from home.”

**********************

“Right here is good. Thank you.” You said, getting out of the cab and paying the driver. YOu glanced up at the tall apartment complex as the car drove away, leaving you to fend for yourself.

You thought back to what had happened not even an hour earlier. Yui at the front desk had asked you if you would be willing to take the boss some work. She said that he was sick at home and wanted to continue to work from there. Being the people pleaser that you are, you said that it was no problem and that was how you’d wound up standing in front of Asahi Azumane’s apartment complex with a thick file full of designs and a large container of soup.

You walked into the lobby before buzzing into Asahi’s apartment. Clearly, he’d been expecting someone to come with his work seeing as he buzzed you up almost immediately.

You entered and took the elevator to his floor, the floor third from the top. When the doors opened, you were met with a small entryway that led to a single door.

“A penthouse?” you mumbled to yourself. You couldn’t be super surprised, after all, he was the boss of your floor and probably made a very comfortable salary. Still, the building hadn’t looked small from the outside, and if Asahi had a whole floor to himself that meant that his flat was at least 4,000 square feet big. You knocked on the door.

It opened.

You automatically gasped.

The scent of sandalwood and rosemary hit you like a brick wall, forcing you to stagger back on your feet.

‘Oh, shit’ you thought, ‘they told me he was sick! Not that he was in a rut!’

You began to panic in the split second that the door had been opened. You wanted to run away, but seeing as Asahi was much stronger and faster than you, you knew that you wouldn’t stand a chance.

Maybe it wasn’t a strong enough rut to enable him to smell through your suppressants? No. There was no way it was a weak rut, not when Asahi was such a powerful alpha.

In your state of panic, you failed to notice two things. The first being the fact that your wolf was screaming something at you, and the second being the large alpha, looming over you in the doorway.

Asahi’s body was heaving with heavy breath. His claws were contracted and his canines were piercing through his bottom lip, causing the taste of blood to hit his tongue as he stared at the beautiful omega in the doorway to his apartment.

‘I didn’t know Y/N was an omega’

‘Why is she here?’

‘Can she smell that I’m in rut?’

Were all questions running through the alpha’s brain, but the most important thing running through his brain was the single word that his inner wolf was practically screaming at him.

Asahi looked down at you, causing a violent shiver to wreck through your spine. You whimpered, feeling yourself grow wet with desire. His lips curled back before letting out the most deafening growl ever. A growl so loud, you were confident that people down on the sidewalks had heard.

“Mine.”

As soon as the words came out of his mouth, you gasped and suddenly the voice of your inner wolf was crystal clear. ‘Mate!’ it was howling happily. Your eyes widened as the realization hit you like a ton of bricks. Asahi was your bond mate? YOUR BOSS WAS YOUR BOND MATE!

It made you want to faint out of surprise as well as anxiety. You considered if you could make a run for it, despite already knowing it was impossible. You were glancing at your surroundings when you finally remembered that Asahi, your mate, was still standing in front of you.

You looked at his tall frame in awe, your desire growing as you practically drooled over the sheer size of the alpha. He was huge, his broad shoulders, his built chest, and if you were to take a guess, you’d say that he was huge under the belt too.

You were so distracted ogling his body that you didn’t notice the way that his claws were digging into the flesh of his palms and how his canines had pierced his bottom lip hard enough to cause a small trickle of blood down his chin.

“Azumane! You gasped, setting the papers and soup on the floor in the hall before automatically stepping forward and grazing his hands with your own, careful to avoid the razor-sharp claws.

“No.” He grunted, trying to pull his hands out of your grasp. He feared if you stayed much longer he would do something out of his control, something unforgivable. “Please…..I don’t want to hurt you.”

You could see the pain and genuine fear in his eyes. You felt your heart fill with sadness and love at the same time. You couldn’t believe how much you’d been blessed. You had been given Azumane as a mate…. A man who was gentle and kind and was always so thoughtful of others. This was the man that you were destined to spend the rest of your life with.

Suddenly all of the fears and insecurities of not being good enough for people melted away from you. As your arms left Asahi’s hands to wrap gently around his neck, tears of happiness began to run down your face.

How could you have been so stupid? All of this time happiness and love had been right down the hall from you. You had deprived yourself of a partner to laugh with, to love, all because you felt inferior to others.

“You won’t hurt me.” You whispered, one of your hands nudging his face down closer to yours. “I trust you Azumane.”

Your lips were so close to his that you could feel his slightly labored breathing. His eyes were so close that you could seemingly see into his soul. You tried to tell him with your eyes just how hopelessly in love with him you already were.

Somehow, he must’ve felt it, because soon he was sighing into a soft kiss as one of his strong hands moved to hold your head as the other glided down your body to rest on your hip.

“Asahi….” he breathed, disconnecting your lips to look into your eyes.

“Huh?” you asked, slightly dazed from the passion of the short kiss.

“Call me Asahi, my love.” He said before once again joining your mouths in another heartfelt kiss, pulling your body flush against his own strong frame.

You moaned into the embrace, your arms wrapping tightly around his neck as he carefully swept you up off of the ground and began to carry you into his bedroom.

It all seemed like a whirlwind to you, but you couldn’t imagine it any other way. This was your soulmate…. Your other half.

Asahi’s body was alight with desire as well as he felt the effects of his rut in full force. He couldn’t believe how incredibly lucky he was to receive you as his mate. You…. the girl that he’d been admiring from afar, the one that, dare he say, he was already madly in love with. You couldn’t wait to spend eternity with you in his arms. When he held you, he felt like the strongest man in the world.

“Is this okay? I don’t want to force you. I’m in rut so I want you to be 100 percent sure that this is YOU wanting me, not your hormones.” Asahi whispered as he set you down on the edge of his bed.

There was no doubt in your mind that this was what you wanted. You didn’t care that he was in rut, you knew that the lust you were feeling barely had anything to do with your omega nature. You wanted him. You wanted him so bad that it made you want to cry.

“Asahi,” You whimpered, falling back onto his bed and staring up at him with a maddening blush on your cheeks. “I want you to claim me…”

“My love….” he growled before lunging back down at you, his lips attaching to your jaw with a renewed feverish manner.

“Asahi!” you gasped as his large hands roamed your body, his long fingers dancing across your hips that had been exposed as the blouse you were wearing was torn off of you, the buttons flying across the room.

He chuckled at your surprise before resuming his onslaught of love onto your body, his lips seeking out your breasts as his hands began to work at your slacks and then at his own clothes.

As soon as you were both fully nude, he leaned back, leaving reality to dawn on you as you realized that you weren’t actually fully over your insecurities. Your hands flew up to cover your face and stomach in embarrassment, you didn’t want Asahi to see you under such bright lights.

“I-I’m sorry I jus-” You whispered in shame, your eyes locking on a wall in his bedroom as you tried to explain.

“Let me see you.” He demanded, interrupting your pathetic stuttering with his strong hands clasping around your wrists and pulling them above your head. Your eyes closed tightly in humiliation.

Asahi’s eyes hungrily drank in your body. Every curve and arch was precious to him. He was practically drooling at how soft you felt under his hard body, how pliant you would be to his will.

“Beautiful,” he murmured to himself. Making your blush darken.

He brought his head down to your chest, his tongue piking out of his mouth and leaving a hot trail between your breasts. You moaned at the feeling of the appendage dancing its way down and across your stomach, down to your hips, until finally, Asahi’s head rested between your thighs.

His hands splayed out against the smooth flesh, admiring how soft they were in his grip. He could smell your arousal, turning him on that much more as he watched slick drip out of your hole and onto the meat of your upper thighs.

“One day.” He mumbled, half to himself and half for you to hear, “I will fuck these gorgeous thighs.” He said before swooping in and kissing the upper region of your legs. Biting and sucking dark spots into the sensitive skin.

“Asahi!” Was all you could manage to cry as his hands and mouth wreaked pleasurable havoc on your mind and body. You wanted him so badly. You could feel your cunt fluttering with need as slick dripped out of it, leaving a large damp spot on Asahi’s bedsheets.

“What do you want my love?” He asked, his eyes looking up from his position from in between your thighs to meet yours. You were suddenly overwhelmed at the sight of so much affection and adoration that laid in the dark brown pools.

“I want you Asahi….” you cried, panting as he quickly climbed up your body, lining himself up with you.

Both of you were hot and ready. The feeling and scent of desire clouding the room and leaving you both in a state of reckless lust. Nothing in that moment mattered but you and him.

Asahi connected your mouths once again as he pressed into you, his cock stretching your walls further than anyone had ever stretched them before. It felt so good…. so incredibly good.

“Asahi….” you gasped as he seated himself fully inside of you, the indescribable feeling of fullness making your body shake. “Please... Give me your cock.” A low growl ripped through his chest as his restraint finally snapped and his rut took over his mind and body. His hips began to snap in and out of your body at an almost lethal pace, leaving you writhing and gasping for air as you felt his primal instincts taking over.

“Yes!” you cried, your nails driving themselves across his upper back in a pathetic attempt to keep you rooted to this world. If the sheer size of his dick wasn’t enough to split you in two, it was the lightning-fast pace that his hips were thrusting into your body at, hitting all of the deepest areas of you, making you want to scream in pleasure.

As his cock drug in and out of you, rubbing against your walls so good that it took all of your breath away, you felt the tip of his cock but against your g-spot.

“Aah! Asahi!” You screamed, your walls clenching around him as stars painted your vision in pleasure. You couldn’t believe just how good he filled you up, how he reached every single place within you, drawing out the lewdest sounds, filling the rooms with your moans and cries as his cock pounded into you.

“You’re so beautiful” He gasped as you clenched around him, he was practically rapid with pleasure. He was slamming into you as his newfound goal in life was to please you, sucking on your neck as his hands roamed and gripped your body.

You could tell that since Asahi was in rut, his end was approaching much faster than it normally would and you would be lying if you said that you weren’t on the brink of orgasm as well. Apparently, Asahi had realized the same thing and was positioning himself to where he was hitting your sweet spot with every thrust, determined to make you fall apart first.

“Asahi!” You gasped, tears running down your face as your hands gripped his strong shoulders. “Asahi, I’m gonna come….”

“Yes, my love….” He grunted, picking up his pace impossibly more before bringing his fingers down to circle your clit. He could feel you getting closer and closer with the way that you sucked him back in with each thrust. “You take me so well.”

“Yes. Only you Asahi! You fuck me so good!” You babbled, your hips circling quickly in a sad attempt to keep up with the delicious feeling of his cock inside of you. You could feel the elastic of your orgasm pulling tight in your lower stomach. You knew that Asahi wouldn’t let himself come before you.

“Please….” you begged, teary eyes staring into Asahi’s lustful ones. “Please let me cum..”

“Yes my love.” he panted out, his thrusts becoming sloppier as he felt his own end rising. “Cum for me…” He said, his lips once again joining yours as your body was thrown off of the cliff into a sea of pleasure. You cried into his kiss, your body arching off of the bed as it shook with the overwhelming force of your orgasm. You swore that you temporarily went blind with the impact.

“I’m gonna come…..” Asahi breathed against your lips.

“Please…..come inside of me.” You begged, your legs wrapping around his hips and trapping his body against yours as his hips began to stutter and his cock burst inside of you, filling you with his hot seed.

“Fuuuuckkkk.” he groaned, pitching his head back as every fiber of his benign burned in the glory of his high. He continued to lazily thrust into you, bringing you both through your peaks.

As soon as you had been able to gain your breath again, he pulled you, leaving you incredibly empty. You whined at the loss.

“I need to take care of you.” He chuckled, climbing off of the bed to retrieve a towel from his bathroom to clean your body with. He kissed and massaged you as he gently wiped all of the cum mixed with slick off of your thighs, his face burning red at the lewd evidence of your lustful activities. You giggled as his docile, shy nature slowly returned, barely being able to make eye contact with you.

As soon as he was finished, he let you pull him back down onto the bed, despite both of you still being naked and sweaty. You closed your eyes, you knew that his rut would flare up again and you wanted to catch a quick nap before the second round.

Asahi just stared at your face as you drifted off to rest. You looked like an angel to him...so pure and beautiful. He knew then that he would always protect you, even if that meant laying down his own life. You were now his reason to live, you were his muse…..

You were his.

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Farmer Ted

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- Regardless of where the two of you have your first conversation, Ted probably knew of and had a crush on you before you were even aware of his existence.

- He’d probably seen you around school and thought that you were really pretty but just didn’t have the nerve to introduce himself while you were with your friends/around people. But now was his perfect chance. 

- You’d been sitting outside of the school, waiting for somebody, when he’d slinked up to you all dorkily suave. Considering you were somewhat distracted by a book, you probably didn’t realize someone was approaching you until they’d; or rather he’d, sat beside you. 

- Somewhat surprised and curious, you looked up and over at him, meeting his eyes as he gave you a smile. He greeted you, making small talk as you sat together before asking if you “wanted to go out Saturday night”. 

- You found him sort of endearing and cute in a wimpy sort of way so; much to his genuine surprise, you actually said yes. 

- For your first date, the two of you went to the movies. He kept sneaking glances at you throughout the night and held his hand open on the armrest like halfway through the movie, waiting to see if you’d take it; which you probably did. 

- He probably rushes to go tell Bryce and Cliff about everything that happened after the two of you say goodbye. 

- You have your first kiss about a week after your first date. You were sitting together in his bedroom and he’d mentioned how “it may come as a surprise …but you’re the first girl he’s ever gone out with.” before telling you how he really likes you and is wondering if you’ll be his girlfriend. 

- Obviously, you agree and after an almost instantaneous “really?!”, he all but smashes his lips to yours. When the two of you pull away, he shyly apologizes but you just laugh and tell him it’s fine. 

- And there you have it, the geek finally gets the girl. 

- Lots of pda. He wants to show off and flaunt your relationship; particularly because he knows that no one would automatically assume that the two of you are dating whenever you’re together. 

- His arm around your shoulder. It makes him feel like a stud. 

- Handholding. 

- Hugs from behind. He does occasionally give you an actual squeeze but, more often than not, he just wraps his arms loosely around you while the two of you stand together. 

- He loves kisses on the cheek. He always tries his best to play it cool but his heart skips a beat whenever you give him one. 

- Clumsy kisses. You’re probably going to be his first kiss so expect him to be a little bad at it for a while; and possibly scrape you with his braces. 

- Soft kisses. 

- Sitting in his lap. He likes wrapping his arms around you and  looking up at your face or whatever you’re doing in front of him whenever you do. 

- He loves cuddling and enjoys doing it in any way that you can. Spooning? Great! You laying your head on his chest? Even better! Him laying his head on you? Wowza!

- You’ll probably catch him staring at you a lot. He’s just amazed that such a wonderful girl like you is giving him the time of day. 

- He calls you pet names more than your actual name, particularly in front of people because; once again, he likes showing off that you’re a couple. He must have at least a dozen different terms of endearment that he calls you interchangeably. 

- Lame pick up lines. He still tries to flirt with you; even though he’s arguably bad at it. 

- He likes making you laugh at his absurdity, especially if you’re noticeably upset; either with him or at something else. 

- Singing along and lip syncing to the radio together. 

- Dancing with each other. 

- Giving all of his geeky interests a try. 

- Letting him explain floppy disks and computers and all that to you. He’s actually sort of brilliant if we’re being honest here. 

- Pizza dates. 

- Movie dates. I can’t tell you why but I feel like Ted would enjoy watching old movies, movies with like Frank Sinatra in them and all the other golden age of Hollywood stars. 

- Taking walks around the neighborhood together; maybe walking a dog together if you’re interested in that. 

- Going to the park. You usually sit on the swings together and talk whenever you do. 

- Arcade dates.

- County fairs, carnivals, and amusement parks. He likes taking you to those types of things, he thinks they’re really fun.

- Having “his dudes” interrupt and tag along with you guys a lot. He’s quick to tell them to scram but you usually feel kinda bad and just tell them they can stay if they’d like to.

- He definitely tries to get you a bit out of your comfort zone but never minds if you just don’t feel like doing something. The two of you could just be standing and doing nothing and he’d be completely fine with it purely because he’s with you.

- He said it himself: he’s a total pushover for pretty girls. You can convince him to do pretty much anything because he’s too twerked up to say no.

- Doing his makeup. Did you see his lid space? The clean close shave? He’d probably outright refuse at first but he’d give in easy enough and you’d get to make him gorgeous.

- He loves the smell of your perfume. He’ll never admit it but he sprays himself with it before he leaves your house so that he can smell like you for the rest of the night. It’s comforting to him.

- He definitely messes around with your stuffed animals whenever he’s bored, you’re not paying attention to him, or just to make you smile.

- Making you laugh is one of his main missions in life. He loves hearing the sound; even if it’s at his expense. 

- Helping him clean up the messes he makes when he’s a total klutz, or just silently helping him when he’s awkwardly and cluelessly fumbling with something. 

- Standing up for him; especially if you’re higher on the social hierarchy.  

- Walking to class together. 

- Sitting with him at lunch; even though it’s sort of social suicide. You get a lot of stares and weird interactions from the other geeks but Bryce and Cliff have gotten used to you and have become pretty good friends of yours. 

- Him carrying your things, or you; he’s surprisingly strong for such a little guy. 

- You’re like 90% of his impulse control and one of the only reasons he’s still alive. You keep him in check because he desperately needs it sometimes.

- Sharing secrets. 

- Having earnest conversations. Most of the time, he feels like he needs to put up a front to seem cool but the longer you're together, the more he realizes you like him for him and that he can just be himself. 

- He can act like a bit of a jerk sometimes but he does genuinely care about your feelings and is actually pretty good at making you feel better when you’re feeling down. 

- He’s definitely pretty jealous. You hang out with him and a bunch of geeks who are constantly ogling and trying to get close to you. Not to mention the fact that you’re really pretty and could bag a boy who’s much higher on the social ladder than he is. 

- He’s not overprotective of you but he does care enough about you to put his weeny ass on the line. He may not be the most helpful in a dangerous/scary situation but he’s fully ready to get his ass kicked to defend you; he’s gotten it bruised for less than that. 

- You don’t fight a lot but the two of you do get into a few good arguments and fights. You’ll argue for a while until you move to just leave, he’ll stop you and calm his tone down while trying to reason with you and explain his point of view. He has a habit of saying the wrong thing or doing things without thinking so that may be part of the reason you’re moving to leave. 

- He is genuinely sorry whenever he’s blatantly messed up but he’ll usually apologize for his attitude regardless of who’s in the wrong and say “but you have to admit x” and you will have to admit it no matter how stubborn you are. 

- He likes when you tell him that you love him but he’s a bit too shy to say it back in fear of messing up his “stud persona”. He’ll usually just give you a kiss and tell you he loves you when you’re alone. 

- You’re his first love so he has that naive, “we’re gonna last forever” mindset; even though he doesn’t talk about it all that much. That’s not to say that you won’t though, I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful life together. 

[welllpthisishappening]

Emma Swan, Olympian is not a phrase Emma Swan, totally normal person, ever expected to hear.

But she never expected one night at a party hosted by her college's baseball team to change her entire life, either. So, it should really come as no surprise that Emma Swan, Olympian, is now something of international sensation. Or that her husband has become a bit of a social media star.

——— Rating: Teen with sports feelings Word Count: 7.5K AN: As promised and because of who I am as a person, I wrote Olympic fic. I can neither confirm nor deny that there is an actual plot here, but there is a surplus of fluff and sports-based feelings. So, that’s something. Thanks to the Detroit Lions, specifically, for posting this Tweet and to my husband who is very much aware of what content I want the internet to provide me. Operation: Make Killian a New York Yankee as often as possible continues.

|| Read on Ao3 if that’s your jam ||

———

No one told her the questions would start to blur together.

That would require media training, Emma imagines. And no one is giving a first-time Olympian in a sport that only a handful of people marginally believe warrants notice from the IOC any sort of media training. She got, like, an orientation packet. With a lopsided staple in the top left corner. On her commercial flight. That she booked herself.

Twenty-plus hours crammed into a seat that she’s only a little concerned did permanent damage to her right knee, with a meal that was so chewy Emma was about four seconds and one exasperated, entirely exhausted exhale from asking if it was, in fact, made of plastic.

Mostly, the staple is what’s still managing to frustrate her. As frustrated as she can be at the Olympics. No one is supposed to be frustrated at the Olympics. Not really. Not while experiencing the pinnacle of athletic achievement, the calluses on Emma’s fingertips some sort of badge of honor that she’s wearing with at least a modicum of national pride, and everything is fine.

Her qualifying time was absurd. Where absurd is a compliment and very close to a record she’s suddenly determined to shatter.

So, she’s alone.

Big deal. So is everyone else. This Olympics, at least. Plus, Killian wouldn’t have been able to come no matter what the state of the world was. Even so, the quiet stands are admittedly weird. All these empty arenas with empty seats, the distinct lack of a roaring crowd no more obvious than when the world’s best athletes step to the line. Staring at the climbing wall in front of her four hours earlier, Emma swore she could hear every single beat of her heart echo between her ears.

And that’s—well, solitude is par for the course with an adolescence like hers, half-filled suitcases and brand-new faces in brand-new towns, but she’d gotten used to one town, and the town is actually a city, and the city has long since felt like home, and her fingers reach for the rings dangling above her Team USA t-shirt. They did give her an absolute shit ton of t-shirts, so that was nice.

Except—

Something keeps tugging. Nagging at the back of Emma’s consciousness, almost like she’s forgotten her keys on that flea market table they found in Park Slope two weeks after they moved into the apartment. Because for as well-versed Emma may be in that singular sort of existence, she’s also well-removed from wanting it, and at least three of her knuckles crack. Curling around her rings.

Muscles in her cheeks stretch, another nod and quick blink to avoid the threat of blinding via camera flashes. Someone really should have told her about this. She probably should have assumed. Human interest is the driving force of at least three-quarters of the stories in sports, and Emma’s not used to being the story, per se, but even she has to admit most of hers makes for a good one and they are still asking her questions.

Emma blinks again. Hopes she doesn’t look like a serial killer or the weird blonde, slightly sweaty cousin of the Joker, her smile starting to feel as if it’s painted on her face. She nods. Hums. Listens to questions that are startling in their tonal similarity to Charlie Brown’s teacher, and Emma wonders if Charlie Brown ever got a different teacher or what the school structure of the Peanuts’ universe is and, God, how old was Charlie Brown, even? To withstand that sort of consistent bullying. Was Linus the same age as him? No, right? How long did he carry the blanket around? Was Linus the same age as Sally? Why didn’t the red-headed girl with curly hair get a name?

She nearly falls out of her chair.

That might make the front page of several blogs. Possibly even the back page of a New York tab.

Careful to keep her feet on the ground, Emma lifts her head, directing her eyes toward the source of a question that must have been asked several times if the note of amusement mixing with deadline-based exasperation is anything to go by. Her smile definitely makes her look like a serial killer.

“Sorry, sorry,” Emma mumbles, and none of the oxygen she does her best to inhales makes it even close to her lungs. “I, uh—what was the question?”

The reporter grimaces.

“I wanted to know if you’d seen the video of your husband yet.”

Ice runs down her spine. Every single drop of wholly disgusting sweat falling in rivulets down either one of her cheeks freezes. Oxygen disappears from the room. Or so Emma assumes, what with the crushing feeling pushing down on her lungs and whatnot.

Her mind whirs. Races through possibilities and pitfalls with a speed that would be impressive if Emma weren’t already so close to that record, and she is going to break that record. Somehow she manages not to fall, though. From her chair or the metaphorical climbing wall in her brain, ignoring the sudden dryness of her mouth and the increasing size of her tongue.

Her nails are going to leave little half-moon creases in her palm.

“I don’t—” she starts, and eventually she will wish she was more articulate. For what turns out to be a very nice story.

Standing up, the reporter’s seat creaks as she moves toward the desk they deposited Emma behind after even. Several Olympic officials move to block her, but Emma shakes her head again, and she’s not exactly high-priority on the list of defensible athletes, anyway. So, none of them flinch when the reporter slides a phone closer to Emma, her crazed thoughts briefly lingering on how many phones a reporter could possibly need, but then her eyes drop, and she’s not sure if her ears can actually perk, but Emma certainly tries because she hears him yelling before she sees him.

Her smile shifts.

And the cameras flash again.

It starts, as with most things in Emma’s collegiate life, because Anna demands it.

She’s only half-listening, so Emma can never be entirely sure what it was, exactly, she was agreeing to, but in her experience, the agreement doesn’t matter so much as the action, and her roommate’s younger sister is unstoppable when it comes to action. So, Emma is dimly aware of a plan. Something about the baseball house and that one left fielder is in a handful of her classes.

David—something.

He’s got a girlfriend, too. A nice one. Who always smells like sugar when she slides into the seat next to David whatever his last name is, sitting in the row in front of Emma during their Tuesday-Thursday statistics class.

Emma hates statistics.

She doesn’t hate Anna, though. Or her roommate, one of the better college-based surprises, and either Anna has magic or Elsa is an enormous pushover because somehow all three of them are ready at the same time, and the walk to the baseball house isn’t far.

First-year players guard the door — passing out color-coded wristbands that absolutely do not do their job because it takes about six seconds of well-meaning flirting and batted eyelashes between Anna and a mountain of muscle masquerading as the team’s starting catcher to get them inside. With purple wristbands and two tickets for jungle juice instead of the keg.

“Victory,” Anna cries, twisting through the crowd. Half of it is already teetering on the edge of drunk, the rest free-falling into the pit of imminent hangovers, and Emma isn’t sure she’d classify their drinks as a victory, but it’s definitely better than watered-down beer.

And it doesn’t take long, really. By Emma’s shaky count, it’s not even a half-hour before the muscle — who introduces himself as Kristoff, and really is pretty cute, actually — returns, standing unnaturally close to Anna’s left shoulder, furtive glances shared out of the corners of their eyes. Emma rolls hers. Elsa’s appear perpetually stuck to the ceiling. It looks oddly sticky up there.

“Go,” Elsa says, and it’s not an instruction. Barely counts as more than a whisper, really. Anna lights up all the same. Like an alcohol-fueled Christmas tree.

Who does not need telling more than once.

Hands reach and smiles widen, Kristoff mumbling something that sounds like it was nice to meet you before he’s following Anna back to the beer pong table, leaving Elsa and Emma standing in the middle of a sea of raging hormones. All of which want to be there way more than either one of them does.

“Well,” Elsa mutters, “that was polite.”

Emma snickers into her glass. A mostly empty glass. That’s surprising. “Got that going for him.” “Plus, his on-base is nuts this year.”

“Say that again.” “On-base percentage,” Elsa repeats, making sure to do it slowly for maximum sarcastic emphasis. Emma’s eyes are going to fall out. That won’t end well. There are too many shuffling feet in this room.

“What does that mean?” “How often he gets on base.” Opening her mouth does nothing. Closing it does even less. Elsa looks overjoyed. “I know things,” she shrugs, “and I’m pretty positive Anna and Kristoff have been not-so-secretly dating since the start of the semester, so—” “You stalked your sister’s secret boyfriend?” “Stalk’s a very dirty word, don’t you think? No, no, there was no stalking. There was light research. One Google search and a single click to the team’s roster, and now I know he’s from Minnesota, too.” “Awfully convenient for the romance of the century.” Humming, Elsa takes a larger-than-usual sip before scrunching her nose in displeasure. At her empty cup. Emma has no idea how they ended up with empty cups so quickly. Suddenly the baseball house feels a bit like a time warp. Enter and drink and find the love of your life. Or something like that.

“I got next,” Emma says, ignoring Elsa’s laugh because she is not the sort of person who says things like that. It’s this house. This place. With its music and its happiness, and she’s not really a sports person. Can only marginally understand the joy of watching other people accomplish something. She has no idea what on-base percentage is.

Still.

Her feet move. Fingers curl over the rim of red solo cups, like the most cliché version of her college self. Her drinks get refilled. And it’s just as Emma’s about to let herself wonder if, maybe, sports aren’t all that bad and might even possess a bit of inherent romanticism, she slams into something.

Someone, more like.

Taller than her, he has to peer down his nose to glare at Emma. That’s fair. They’re both far more damp than they were ten seconds before. Some of that moisture ensures that the hem of his shirt sticks to his stomach. A very flat stomach. That draws Emma’s eyes because she’s human and slightly intoxicated, and it takes quite a lot more than she’s willing to admit to lift her chin, but then she’s glad she does. Even with the understandable glare.

“Shit,” she breathes, “your eyes are stupid blue.”

He narrows them. She hates that. Which is about all it takes for her to get royally pissed off, too.

“Can you pay attention to where you’re walking?”

The stupidly blue eyes blink. Darken a shade, like all his frustration is centered directly around his pupils, and the shirt he’s wearing is team-branded. Another baseball player, then.

“You ran into me!” Oh, Oh. Well, that sucks. He’s got a good voice, too. Eyes and voice and the few strands of hair that fall toward those eyes when he continues to glare at Emma likely aren’t supposed to make her stomach flip.

It’s the alcohol’s fault.

Or sports. Like, in general.

“Because you take up so much space,” Emma snarls He leans forward. Looms, really. Over her and around her, smelling like punch and body wash. It’s gross and absolutely wonderful. “Gotta pick a lane, love. Either I ran into you, or I was in the way.”

“It can definitely be both and there is nothing resembling love here.”

“So I can see. You have a name, wrecking ball?” “My shoes are never going to unstick from this floor.” To his credit, he does waver. His lips twist — which makes it all too obvious how much Emma is staring at his lips, but, seriously, the alcohol. Plus, it’s so hot in this house she can barely think straight. She wonders where he buys his body wash. He smells better than he should in this house. So, it's clear he considers. Ponders, even. Until his hands dart out and those hands are somehow warmer than every person in this house combined, heat scorching through Emma’s t-shirt as he lifts her off the ground.

Only to deposit her approximately fourteen inches to her left.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” “Look,” he grins, “you’re unstuck.” “Bastard!” “Eh, not technically.” “What?” “Not technically a bastard. Orphan, I suppose. But that’s kind of a mood ruiner, don’t you think?”

Emma’s fish impression is really going great. The grin becomes a smirk. Her stomach refuses to stay still. “Is there a mood to ruin?” “Might be if you tell me your name.”

Emma wavers, that time. Considers and ponders. Weighs the pros and cons while laughter drifts past her ears, consummate collegiate experiences that she’s only ever let herself be passably jealous of. A dark-haired girl’s talking to Elsa in the opposite corner.

And the hand hanging in front of her wiggles its fingers.

It’s still ridiculously warm when she grabs it. “Emma Swan.” “Killian Jones.”

Anna’s secret relationship becomes a real relationship no less than sixteen hours following what Elsa begins to call the Drink Incident.

And they become—

Baseball people.

Becoming baseball people is not bad. Not really. Emma likes the baseball team. She understands what WHIP is, now. Kristoff adores Anna, so that’s good. David, who does, in fact, have a last name, continues to be as nice as assumed, and his girlfriend sort of quasi adopts Emma. Mary Margaret Blanchard brims with positivity and an innate sort of joy that would usually annoy Emma, but most of that joy also serves as a direct counter to the snark that Killian Jones appears flush with. So, it’s something of a wash, really.

Plus, he’s a very sore Monopoly loser.

And Emma finds it endlessly entertaining.

“Stop that,” he grunts, glaring at the board with the sort of force Emma’s become accustomed to in the last few months, while she taps on the space in front of her, “I know how many spots it is.” Emma smiles. “So move, then.” “I’ll be bankrupt.” “Capitalism does that.” “Tell me more about capitalism, Swan.”

She doesn’t startle, so there’s that. Not much else, though. Not when a noticeable bit of equally familiar heat skitters down her spine. Her head tilts. His head remains frustratingly still, staring at the board like the spaces will change or Mary Margaret will tear down some of her hotels on Marvin Gardens.

Neither thing happens.

The heat pools. At the small of her back, inching dangerously close to that space between her hips, like it’s trying to tether her to this spot and this moment and its people. Baseball people. People who so clearly care about everything so much that even the cynic in Emma can appreciate it. Plus, they’re all ridiculously competitive.

David had to take a walk when Mary Margaret bankrupt him earlier.

“That’s about the extent of my capitalism knowledge,” Emma admits with a shrug, “I sucked at economics.” Pulling his gaze away from the board, Emma’s less prepared for the force behind Killian’s eyes than she was for the appearance of a nickname that might not warrant the title. It’s just her name, after all. But it sounds like more than that. Sinks under her skin with alarming ease, the precise tone of it wrapping its way around a variety of internal organs until they’re all beating at the same tempo and— “Move my piece for me.”

Kristoff groans. Mary Margaret chuckles. Elsa looks far too sure of herself. Knows everything, indeed.

And it’s not really a command, but there’s that same sense of something that found its way into the sound of Emma’s name and Killian’s voice, and he catches her by surprise. On a variety of levels. His fingers jump the moment hers reach out, all heat and an alarming size difference, his brows lifting when she turns her head.

“You’re taking this game way too seriously, you know,” Emma says. What she doesn’t say is more important, though. Because they’re not friends, really. They’re—acquaintances. Some kind of appropriate metaphor regarding a planet’s many moons and the tendency of those moons to orbit something far bigger than them. But they like each other, too. As much as they dance and twist, do their best to avoid getting hit in the batter’s box, Emma’s more comfortable bantering with him than just about anyone she’s ever met, a challenge in every conversation, and she’s rather loath to realize she’s memorized the different ways the blue in his eyes flash.

Now it feels a bit like a spotlight.

“Matter of pride, Swan.” “Is it just?” If there are other people laying on their stomachs in that living room, half-empty glasses by their hands and equipment stacked in various corners, Emma forgets about them. Quickly. Immediately. Killian doesn’t move his fingers.

He nods.

And Mary Marget only kind of gloats when she bankrupts him.

She dances when she wins, though.

It’s embarrassing. It’s absolutely, goddamn wonderful.

Realizing that baseball is a game of statistics ruins kind of Emma’s day. It makes Killian laugh. Her favorite sort of laugh. Where he throws his head back, an arm around his middle, and his shoulders shaking. Those same strands of hair she noticed that first night fall back toward lidded eyes, the corners of his mouth lifting in an angle Emma is sure she could determine if she just didn’t hate math so much, and it takes about four seconds, her head tilting back and forth twice and one swipe of her tongue to lean forward on the couch they're sharing, tilt her head up and press her lips to his.

Press is a vast understatement.

Crash, more like.

A bases-clearing double into the left-field gap.

She knows so many baseball terms now, it’s ridiculous.

It’s because she keeps going to games. With Anna. Without Anna. With Elsa. Without Elsa. With Mary Margaret every single time. And it creeps on so slowly, she’s practically a Jane Austen heroine, but then Emma finds she cares as much as everyone else. Screams herself hoarse at every crack of the bat. Jumps and fist bumps with startling regularity. Experiences the flutter of butterflies in her flip-prone stomach before ninth-inning rallies.

She memorizes statistics. Killian’s statistics, especially.

Because the Draft is a week away, and the nerves rolling off him are even more potent than his body wash. Bought in bulk from a locally-owned company, she learns.

Killian hates capitalism, too.

Which is only part of the reason she likes him, but right now all of the reason is centered around how it feels as if the world is shifting on its axis and what, precisely, he is capable of with his tongue. Quite a lot if this first time at bat is anything to believe.

Emma laughs.

Joy bubbles from the very center of her, pushing at the seam of her lips, and it’s not much of a seam when her mouth is open to accommodate tongue, but it’s enough of a sound that Killian pulls back. No glare. Definitely eyebrow movement, though.

“That’s not the best confidence boost, you know.” “I’m straddling you,” Emma counters, nodding toward the knees on either side of his, and she has no idea when her fingers found his hair. It’s very soft.

“How did that happen?” “What was that about confidence?”

Dropping his head, she gets a different sort of laugh, one that’s just as potent in its ability to settle into her bloodstream and the empty spaces around her heart, and sports have turned her into a sap. “I like you a lot,” Killian murmurs. Emma’s heart explodes. Metaphorically speaking.

“Good.” “Expand on that, for me.” She pinches his side, almost prepared for the way it leaves him bucking beneath her. Less prepared for the mutual groan it causes. Killian’s eyes widen. “I like you a lot,” Emma repeats, and his arms tighten, and her heart knits itself back together, and the second time through the kissing order is even better.

It starts, as with most things in Emma’s nearly-adult life, because Anna demands it.

“I just think it’ll be fun,” Anna says, not for the first time. And, not for the first time, she ignores the pointed look Emma and Elsa exchange. Elsa’s lips have all but disappeared behind her teeth “Think about it,” Anna continues, “we need something to do before the game, anyway. This way we’re—you know, staying active.” Emma’s eyebrows jump. Fly. Soar into her hairline where the level of her disbelief sits, all too aware of the ring hanging around her neck.

A Draft Day gift. As much as a family heirloom can be a gift. But Killian claimed it was good luck, his brother’s ring, because turns out that snark is at least a partial product of a wholly depressing childhood, and Emma supposes there’s something to be said for common ground. Understanding, too. Stories shared over weeks that turned to months that turned to years and seasons in the minors, and it absolutely figures Killian’s Major League debut is happening in Cincinnati. Where Kristoff plays.

It’s ridiculous how in love with him she is.

Killian. Not Kristoff.

Anna is still talking. “There’s nothing else to do in Cincinnati,” she reasons, which seems unfair to the city itself but not entirely untrue, and even the concept of chili on spaghetti grosses Emma out. “Also,” Anna adds, sounding as if she’s reached the final bullet point on her list of possible arguments, “I’ve got a Groupon deal for this place.”

Elsa blinks. “I didn’t realize Groupon was even still a thing.” “Surprise!”

Emma’s laugh isn’t entirely honest, but her sigh of acceptance is and—

Turns out she’s pretty good at it.

Goddamn fantastic, actually.

At rock climbing. Indoor rock climbing. Her feet push her up the wall with ease, the steady ache in her arms welcome and wonderful and a slew of other alliterative adjectives. That leave Killian grinning like a maniac, but it’s been a weird and equally wonderful day, without a hit, but two walks, so that ups the on-base, and Emma’s really, seriously in love with him.

“I don’t know what it was,” she says, preening just a bit under Killian’s stare. Hotel lighting casts shadows on his cheeks, slumped as he is against every pillow they could find. Even the ones in the closet. He’s not supposed to be in here for much longer, both of them aware of the team-ordained curfew hanging over them, but the pre-game nerves are long gone. Replaced instead with exhilaration and endorphins, the kind that could win Elle Woods a headline-making case. “But,” Emma continues, “I just kept moving, and the guy said it was, like, a course record. Is course the right word, you think?” Killian lifts a shoulder. Even as it’s covered in ice and tape. The play he made at third is going to show on loop. On TV. In Emma’s memory. She’s never yelled that loud before.

People took pictures.

And then she cried. Like a giant sap.

“This is your show, Swan,” Killian chuckles, pride infusing the words. As if she’s the one who deserves the pride today. It’s entirely possible she cried for multiple minutes after that play. They definitely showed that on the YES Network. Mary Margaret texted her no less than forty-seven times.

“I was really fast.” Killian hums, fingers fluttering enough to make it clear he wants her closer. Emma doesn’t argue. They’re a mess of limbs and mouths and that tongue thing they’ve collectively gotten better at giving and receiving over the years, hands that warm with the sort of confidence borne of repetition. Some joke about BP and finding your swing.

“Plus,” he says, a soft laugh at Emma’s noise of displeasure when talking means far less kissing, “becoming a rock climbing savant means more upper-body work, and you know how I love your arms.” Guffawing the way Emma does is not particularly romantic. Doesn’t matter. The sound comes, and the joy remains, a steady stream pumping through all her extremities and clouding her thoughts. In the best way possible. Before Killian, Emma didn’t know this could be that. Fun and easy, not quite simple, but something she’s willing to work for. Athletes are notoriously determined, after all.

Part of her wonders if a proclivity to rock climbing makes her an athlete, too.

“Please,” she says, laughter clinging to the letters even as she finds herself moved directly over Killian’s outstretched legs, “provide, in detail, everything you enjoy about my arms.” “I didn’t say enjoy.” “Were you misquoted, Jones?” His eyes flash. Glow, honestly. At her and because of her and athletes also know how to work their opponents. Goad them into making mistakes. Something about a pitcher’s duel and a battle in the box. Where the box is this bed. And Emma’s winning.

“I love your arms,” Killian says. Dragging his mouth against the column of her throat leaves goosebumps on Emma’s skin. Her back arches. His hand flattens. The compliments continue. Turn into promises. Guarantees. Of a future that’s spread out at their feet now, if only they reach for it.

Turns out Emma’s pretty good at reaching for things. When she wants them.

“This isn’t, like, free-scale, though, is it?”

Her heart cannot be expected to handle much more of this.

“Don’t worry,” Emma says, “all proper safety precautions were taken. Plus, I wouldn’t fall off the wall.”

Killian’s expression shutters. Not in any of that frustration Emma so clearly understood when his shirt was damp, and her shoes were unsalvagable despite his best efforts to get the school’s equipment manager to dry-clean them. No, it’s—it’s something big and important and unspoken, and Emma pulls his hand up. To rest directly over the rink that’s still tucked beneath her t-shirt.

His t-shirt.

It’s got his last number on it, at least.

“Would you catch me if I fell off the wall?” He doesn’t answer at first. Doesn’t mention the absurdity of a question that does not make sense, but those literal and metaphorical clock hands are ticking, and if they don’t replace his ice soon, they’re going to destroy these sheets. “Every single time, Swan.” “Right back at you.”

Killian doesn’t miss curfew, but it’s pretty close.

And Emma wakes up to twelve texts with links for indoor rock climbing gyms in the greater New York City area.

“Holy shit, this is hard.”

Grunting more than laughing, Emma’s fingers curl around the rock in front of her. Chalk cakes itself on the pads of those fingers, stuck beneath her nails and, somehow, the bend of her elbow. “Are you not an All-Star?” she asks, glancing at Killian.

“I do not see how that factors into this at all.”

“Huh, weird.” “Suspiciously sounds like an accusation.” “Weird,” Emma repeats. They’re halfway up a wall only one of them is really supposed to be on, but the other person several feet below them is faring far worse than the pair of them combined, so, that takes precedence in her mind. “He knows a lot more curse words than I realized.” “He’s showing off,” Killian grumbles, forehead resting against the wall.

Will Scarlet hasn’t moved in five minutes. Possibly six. Maybe a round ten. He's much better at second base.

“I cannot feel my arms,” he calls, and Emma’s laugh is better that time. Purer, somehow. As if happiness can actually have a sound. Even happiness that comes with sweat on her temple and a noticeable ache in her triceps and she sort of loves this.

Sort of is a vast understatement.

“Showing off, huh?” Emma asks. She finds her next footfall with ease, happiness blooming into confidence that’s become nearly consistent these days and weeks and years. It does not take her long to feel the stare that’s lingering on her. On her ass, specifically.

She glances over her shoulder. To find her fiancé smiling at her. And staring at her ass.

“Can I help you, love?” “Whatcha doing?” “Ogling you, obviously.” “Forearms feeling good?” He nods. Sort of. There’s a distinct slope to the back of his neck and more sweat on his brown than Emma’s. Not as much as Scarlet’s, probably. “Fantastic,” Killian drawls, “keep going, Swan, someone’s got to show us how to do it.” “Try not to fall off the wall, huh? Last thing we need is the might of the Yankees front office coming after us.” “I don’t think I can move my hands,” Will shouts. Killian doesn’t move. It’s impressive forearm strength. Blushing on the wall is not usually how Emma’s days go.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Killian promises, and Emma moves. He follows her. Up the wall and to the top, a quick brush of his lips against her shoulder that leaves Scarlet cursing even more, despite his presence on the floor, but then there’s lemon-flavored water and exceptionally soft towels and Emma’s caught a bit off guard by the question.

“Are there leagues for this?” Will asks. “Because you should probably be winning things for this.” Emma blinks. Considers. Wonders. Turns to Killian.

He’s still smiling. Broadly, in fact.

“We could look.” They do. They fill out paperwork. Buy fancy climbing shoes that Emma claims cost too much, but Killian’s a pushover and even more stubborn and she wins the first race she signs up for.

Plus, ten more after that.

Emma climbs indoor rock walls. Killian hits home runs. Occasionally they do these things simultaneously, and it usually leads to her nearly falling off the wall because everyone in her Tribeca gym knows what it means when WFAN is playing on the speakers.

Sometimes they shout out John Sterling’s home run call with him.

She gets better. He gets better.

They do end up destroying sheets in various hotels across the country. For various reasons. Not all of them post-game or ice related. There are games and events. Wins and losses. Back page spreads that Emma frames and hangs on their apartment walls, right next to other, smaller frames, with the same smiling faces who, once upon a time, called a sticky-floored baseball house home, and Killian’s fingers are warm in hers when the tears prick her eyes at Anna and Kristoff’s wedding.

There are stories. Think pieces and hot takes on a variety of drive-time radio shows. Those are all about Killian, though. He’s the athlete. The true one, some stories say. It’s impressive what Emma does, they admit, but it’s a hobby, and she’s got a grown-up career, anyway. So, she’s got more climbing records than she knew ever existed, but she’s not doing it for press, and both Mary Margaret and Anna weep at her and Killian’s wedding.

She wears her ring on a chain next to her other one when she climbs.

Every time Killian notices them hanging there, Emma swears, his eyes brighten. It’s her favorite thing in the whole, goddamn world.

“What is this?” He doesn’t answer. Just holds the sheet of paper he must have printed out in the clubhouse because they certainly don’t have a printer at home, and one of the edges is bent. Like he had to fit it in his back pocket.

“Going the stoic route, huh?” Emma quips, but there’s a noticeable hitch in her pulse. One that’s been there for weeks. Since the rumblings started, and the rumors began, whispers of possibility, and first-ever has a very nice ring to it. One side of Killian’s mouth tugs up. “Oh, that’s not fair.” “I’d like the record to show, that the only reason I didn’t know immediately was because I was in the trainer’s room, so—” “What were you in the trainer’s room for?” Killian ignores her. Well, sort of. His eyes shift, and his gaze holds, and Emma knows. Right down in the marrow of her. What the paper is and how Scarlet is the one who printed it out, but she’s even more confident Killian carried it home, and that does something funny to her entire worldview. Widens it and minimizes it at the same time, focusing on this and them and the possibility that creates.

In an athletic sort of way.

“My shoulder’s kind of sore.” Emma scoffs. “Oh, that’s pointed.” “I’m sure your shoulders are fine. Golden, even.’ “This is not your best work, you know that?” “Look at the paper.” “Did you fold it yourself?” “And then took a car back home. You really didn’t see yet?” Emma shakes her head. He knows the answer, too. He’s the one with the Google alert, after all. Because she’s still a bit of a pessimist at heart and an adult with a real job, and this is too much and abjectly terrifying, and the last thing she expects is for Killian to crouch in front of her.

One of his knees cracks.

“Don’t,” he warns, even as Emma does her best to swallow her laugh. Warm hands land on her thighs, a quiet steadiness that helps the state of her pulse and makes the possibility of the unknown a little less overwhelming. The lines crossing the center of the paper are absurdly straight. “You’re going to go.” “Oh, that sounded like a decree.” “A suggestion.” “A strong one.” “Mmhm, with the utmost confidence.” Emma makes an impressive sound. “Who’s doing your media training? What an impressive vocabulary you’ve got on you.” “Ready and willing to use it in a persuasive manner.” “Keep talking like that, and you won’t have to.” The smirk disappears. Evolves into a grin that is only Emma’s and only appears in moments like this, support clinging to air molecules and the ends of hair that constantly seems determined to fall into Killian’s eyes. “Passed, huh? All cool with the IOC.” “Decidedly cool. Officially an Olympic sport, now. Although the name could use some work. Sport climbing lacks a little oomph, don’t you think?”

“What would you call it?” “Emma Swan wins Olympic gold.” “Kinda wordy.” “Prophetic,” Killian corrects, hands shifting and pulling, and Emma has to widen her legs. His head’s at a very good kissing angle. “You’ve already got the qualifying numbers.” “You looked at the qualifying numbers?” “Don’t insult me like that. What do you think I did in the backseat?” “Planned the entire 2020 Olympics, apparently.” “Not the entire Olympics,” Killian counters, "just the part involving you. And maybe my individual expectations regarding the United States baseball team, but that’s another conversation altogether.”

“Naturally.”

“You’re using that voice.”

Widening her eyes does nothing. Emma didn’t expect it to. Not after years and games and events because rock climbing has events, and one time Mary Margaret made her a sign. Killian held it. He’s taller, that’s why.

“Don’t,” Killian repeats, “this is happening.” “Yuh-huh?” “You heard me. It’s your turn, now.” Melting is an impossibility. Like, for a human. Even so. Emma feels like she’s melting. Some of that pessimism evaporating under the warmth of Killian’s gaze and his hands and the determination in the precise angle of his chin. Same one he uses when he steps into the box with runners in scoring position.

Lumping herself into that group isn’t as insulting as Emma once believed it would be.

“God,” Emma groans, “that’s romantic.” “You’re really selling it, love.”

“This is supposed to be a hobby.” “One you’re exceedingly good it. World record good at it.” “I like you.” “That’s my end game, yeah.” She laughs. Smiles. Continues melting. Which is easier once they get rid of their clothing, and their bed is way more comfortable than any hotel they’ve encountered. And she falls asleep with Killian’s lips against her ear, Emma Swan, Olympic gold medalist whispered on loop like it’s a mantra he’s been practicing.

They postpone the Olympics.

It sucks. Everything sucks. Baseball sucks. Gyms are closed. Emma gets creative, and Killian gets research-prone. They build a makeshift wall. She tosses him BP.

People write stories about it.

It doesn’t help.

Until—

Time passes. Some things change. Others don’t. Their wall stands up to the elements of their building’s courtyard, and Killian’s hitting better than ever this season, a victory Emma’s going to claim as at least partially hers. And then the Olympics are back, and it’s qualifying and racing and a record that’s just out of reach, but she’s good enough even without it, and, this time, she’s the one packing a suitcase.

He kisses her.

Does the tongue thing.

Holds onto her like he’s only a little afraid she’s going to fall off the wall, but now the wall is international competition, and Emma’s freaking out a little.

“I love you,” she says into the crook of his neck.

His arms tighten. “I love you too.” “Gold medal?” “Gold medal.” “Hit some home runs while I’m gone, huh?” Lips graze her temple. Her forehead. The bridge of her nose. Emma might be crying, and Mary Margaret’s definitely recording, a small mob of red white, and blue surrounding them. “I’ll see what I can do,” Killian promises.

“Good.”

He hits three before her first qualifying round. So, Emma takes that as a challenge. She’s an athlete now.

It’s why, she figures, her fingers don’t slip on her first run.

Her feet are sure. Her breathing is steady. There’s no one cheering her name, but she’s long since memorized the exact way Killian’s voice lifts above a crowd. How he pushes up on his toes to watch, as if standing up taller makes sure he’s closer to her. Should she need him when she falls off the wall. Only, Emma doesn’t fall, and she’s got no intention of ever falling and—

Her laugh shudders out of her in a watery sort of way that makes the journalist still standing in front of her flinch ever so slightly. Twitter makes sure the video starts playing again as soon as it finishes, which is somehow the best and worst thing that has ever happened to her. Best because, well, Emma’s honestly not sure she’s ever seen her husband like this.

Worst because she’s very nearly goddamn crying. Again.

Bobbing on the balls of his feet in front of his locker, whoever’s recording the video — it’s Scarlet, obviously — is practically frenzied behind the camera, barely able to contain their laughter. Killian doesn’t notice. He’s holding his own phone, all five of his free fingers firmly entrenched in the back of his hair. It’s gotten softer with age, Emma thinks.

She can’t stop watching him.

Every inhale is a clear struggle, the bobbing turning into pacing and quiet mumbling she can hear perfectly. As if she’s standing right in front of him.

Or at least slightly to the side. So as not to stand on the logo in the middle of the clubhouse.

Athletes are notoriously superstitious, too.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” Killian chants, another noticeable snicker from Scarlet, “right there, right there, and pull, pull—Swan, pull up!”

“I did pull up there,” Emma mumbles. To the reporter, maybe. Or the world. Possibly her husband. Who was definitely more nervous about the first run than her.

God, that’s romantic.

Killian’s still talking. Shouting, more like. It’s a miracle Scarlet hasn’t fallen over yet.

“Faster, faster, you can go faster than that, Swan—” Emma clicks her tongue. “That’s kind of insulting.”

There’s an appropriate titter of laughter from the peanut gallery, which is a joke she was not trying to make, but she’s also dangerously close to swooning in the middle of press and she should have asked the Yankees for media training. Someone would have made sure she didn’t make a total ass of herself.

“Show me the time,” Killian yells, another demand that isn’t that. It’s too wobbly a string of words to hold any real power, just the supportive sort of desperation Emma’s felt in a variety of ninth innings and series-clinching moments. “Faster! Faster!” “Talking to the time or the judges or your wife?” Scarlet asks.

Killian nearly snarls.

Emma blinks. Hyperactively. Crying is not usually her shtick. More camera flashes...flash, Emma barely noticing them with her eyes glued to a phone screen that isn’t hers because she at least knows not to bring her phone to a press conference, and she can only imagine how many text messages she’s gotten.

Even on the other side of the world.

They post the times.

She knows because Killian gets some rather impressive height on his celebratory vertical. Fingers abandoning his hair, his fist pumps the air, and Scarlet’s not laughing so much as he’s whooping, a steady stream of yeah, yeah, yeah in the background. And for about half a breath, Emma’s worried Killian may turn one of his ankles on his landing, but he’d think that was insulting, and she’s really just full-on swooning now.

“How many people have seen this?’ she asks the reporter, already knowing the answer.

The reporter smiles anyway. Emma should learn her name.

“Pretty much the whole world.” When Emma was a kid — the sort of kid who believed alone was better, and there was strength in singularity, that would have terrified her. Bowled her over, really. Left her running without looking back, desperate to shed any sort of notoriety because notoriety meant attention, and attention meant inevitable disappointment.

Maybe that’s why she was never much of a sports person.

Sports disappoint you. They build you up and let you down, a sharp and sudden fall without a safety net. But sometimes. Sometimes, every so often, something wonderful happens. Sports lift you. Right up an indoor wall. Because, she knows, sports’ power comes from belief, from surrendering yourself to something bigger and better, and she’s back on that alliterative kick, but the tears are barely clinging to her eyelashes now and Emma herself is bigger and better, now.

In an international, decidedly romantic sort of way.

The video’s playing away.

“Let’s go,” Killian cries, and there it is. Her sound and their sound, cheering across an ocean and time zones that are still kind of messing with her sleep schedule.

Emma’s smile stretches.

“Let’s go,” she repeats.

It ends, as with most things in Emma’s gold-medal-winning life, because Anna plans it.

Stepping out of the terminal, it takes less than a full breath for the cheers to start. For the banners to lift and the tears to flow, a small platoon of support covered in the sort of patriotic gear they definitely got from the Old Navy in Herald Square.

Flashes burst behind Emma’s eyelids because she’s got to blink or she’ll definitely fall over. Her legs wobble beneath her, contending against a wave of triumph and jubilation, which is sort of the same word, but they’ve got a game at the Stadium tonight, so she doesn’t expect, she just hopes and reaches, and he has to twist around both Anna and Mary Margaret.

It’s wonderfully cyclical.

As is the way Emma slams herself against him. On purpose, this time. Killian’s arms tighten, more cheers and shouts, and people a few feet away start chanting USA over and over. Emma barely hears them. Her feet aren’t touching the ground, so she’s kind of preoccupied.

They’re all arms and mouths, and her legs wrapped securely around a body that probably shouldn’t be supporting hers when she knows he slid into second two nights ago, but Killian clearly has no intention of letting her down, and the medal around her neck bumps against her rings.

“You’re a very good cheerleader; you know that?” He hisses. In what, Emma can’t imagine. Embarrassment, if the red tips of his ears are anything to go by, and she’s got ideas as to why that is and how long the conversation about social media with Scarlet went, so Emma does the only reasonable thing.

She slams her lips against her home-run hitting husband’s, doing her best to make sure the gold medal doesn’t mistakenly impale either one of them, and the world tilts again. With victory and sports-based support and the sort of love that comes from believing in something bigger.

And better than Emma could have ever imagined.

“I didn’t want to steal your thunder.”

“Please,” Emma scoffs, “don’t insult me like that. Plus, I’m claiming every one of those home runs as my own, so comparatively—” He kisses her before she can say anything else.

That’s for the best, probably.

“Your arms looked ridiculously good the whole time.”

Her laugh doesn’t even sound like her when Emma hears it played back — another video that someone tells her goes viral, only she doesn’t care about hits or site traffic, just about the particular shade of blue in Killian’s eyes, and she wears her medal to the game that night.

Because they’re a sports power couple, now.

Or so the New York Post back page claims the next day.

Emma frames it.

[mgsdays]

do u know any other comics/BLs like 19days? #🥪

Hey dear!

Ohh that's a good question. I don't know any quite like 19 days, an ongoing story that is ultra slow burn. I have read some other amazing BLs though. Here's some that I like:

.

Totally Captivated

• Complete | 49 chapters plus some extras

• General vibe: humor, romance

If you like the mafia background of 19 days, an amazing manhwa is Totally Captivated. Lighthearted, fun and very hot 🔥 One character gives me strong He Tian vibes, both in appearance and in attitude. Plus, the main couple has some fantastic chemistry.

Summary: Jung Ewon has always let his curiosity get the best of him, but even he could not have predicted that his latest venture would lead to him working for the mafia.

After cheating on his boyfriend and consequently being dumped, Ewon longs for the two of them to reconcile. However, his ex's new boyfriend, the handsome Eun Mookyul, begins to take an interest in him. Finding Ewon intriguing, Mookyul, a mafia boss, decides that he wants Ewon to become his underling—and that's just the start of Ewon's problems.

As the new errand boy in Mookyul's gang, Ewon must now learn to navigate the dangerous world of the mafia all while resisting the advances of his ex-boyfriend's new lover. Should he give in to his desires, he will risk more than just another heartbreak.

At the End of the Road

• Complete | 57 chapters plus extras

• General vibe: dark themes, romance, plot heavy

The summary makes this one sound pretty complicated so I procrastinated checking it out for a bit. When I finally read it I was blown away. The plot is incredible, the romantic interest is ugh so good. The entire story leaves me with a warm feeling of destiny and serendipity. It gets dark and it demands quite a bit of attention but it is definitely worthwhile.

Summary: After a car accident, Taemin finds himself in the body of Siwon, a victim of bullying at school. No longer a pushover, he starts standing up for himself but then meets Woojin, an old friend from the past. Somehow, Woojin immediately picks up Taemin's 'scent' from Siwon. What happened between these two in the past and how will it affect their future?

Walk on Water

• Complete | 62 chapters

• General vibe: romance, hot sex

Ok, this one is a delight to read. It's another one of those "straight guy goes gay for the right guy" kind of plot, but it's beautifully done. The characters' progress feels authentic. You're on the edge of your seat rooting for them. Plus, the art is amazing?? I'd stop reading sometimes just to admire it. @ the artist you didn't have to go this hard and yet you did dude!! Fantstic job.

Plus the sex scenes are just on fire. Phew 🥵

Explicit sex so don't check it out if you're under 18, stay safe, yadda, yadda.

Summary: To earn money, Ed decided to enter the pornographic industry. Secretly, he begins working under the alias of "Tommy". One day, it was suddenly decided that he would be filming as a bottom instead of a top and he's doing it with the famous Glen McQueen as his partner?

No. 6

• Complete | 9 books or 9 mangas (I read the books actually, but the manga is the same story)

• General vibe: social commentary, romance, plot heavy

My all time favorite on the list might be No. 6. No. 6 reads more like 'social political commentary ft. a couple that happens to be boys', rather than a boys love story per see. The plot doesn't revolve around their romance, their romance is also happening in the midst of the chaos. And it is beautiful to watch.

Story wise, No. 6 is a dystopic tale, and it brings up themes of consumption under capitalism, outsourcing of labor, outsorcing of inequalities and goverment control. It's not recent so you might have read it already - if you haven't I can't recommend it enough.

A PERFECT LIFE, IN A PERFECT CITY

For Shion, an elite student in the technologically sophisticated city No. 6, life is carefully choreographed. School, study, and the occasional visit with his friend and classmate Safu. One fateful day, however, he takes a misstep, sheltering an injured boy his age from a typhoon. Known only as Rat, this boy is a VC – a fugitive living outside the computerized tapestry of city control – and helping him will throw Shion’s life into chaos and start him down a path to discovering the appalling secrets behind the superficial perfection of No. 6.

Seven Days

• Complete | 2 volumes

• General vibe: school life, romance

No way you haven't read this, but just in case: seven days!! Go check out seven days!! Seven Days is the BL. School life plots peaked with this one haha It's just two volumes and the story is beautifully done. I re-read from time to time when I want a pick me up.

Summary: On a whim, high school third-year Yuzuru Shino asks out first-year Toji Seryo, who is notorious for being a weeklong lover—he’ll date the first girl to ask him out Monday morning and then promptly dump her by the following Monday! The boys start dating, and by Tuesday, the first inklings of attraction hit. Can these two put words to their feelings before Monday comes, or are old habits too hard to break?

Blue Sky Complex

• Complete | 23 chapters

• General vibe: school life, humor, romance

Another school life story for the list. Blue Sky Complex has some truly hilarious moments, with teenage fumblings that ache with how true to life they are. Zero drama, zero outside interference, just the two main characters slowly (but surely) figuring things out.

Summary: Narasaki only wanted a place where he could sit and read books in peace, but was blackmailed by his teacher into supervising a delinquent called Terashima while working at the school library.

As they spend their days in silent but close proximity, they begin to feel drawn to each other. And then...

Doukyuusei

• Complete | 2 volumes (second is called Sotsugyousey)

• General vibe: lightehearted fun

Fun fact: I went to Japan once and I wanted to buy a book in Japanese just to have it, you know? I don't speak Japanese, I just wanted a book as a souvenir. I bought Doukyuusei. Clearly I'm biased towards this story in particular haha

Everything by this author is gold. Their art style flows, the characters have a certain lightness to them that makes them almost dance in the pages. The author usually draw at least one of the leads with long hair and the hair is so well done, GOD. I could gush about the hair all day.

Perhaps one of the most realistic ones of the list, Doukyuusei is a school life story about when you meet someone at just the right time.

Summary: "A boy boy met a boy. They were in the flush of youth. They were in love that felt like a dream, like sparkling soda pop."

High school students Hiraku Kusakabe and Rihito Sajou are as different as day and night. But opposites attract and before they know it, they've embarked on a journey neither one can quite define but which anyone with eyes can see is "Love."

Mo Dao Zu Shi

• Complete | 126 chapters

• General vibe: slow burn, historical, epic romance

At the risk of being very cliche here: if you haven't read Mo Dao Zu Shi, you're wasting time. Go. This one isn't a manga, but it a fantastic book. It became uber famous for a reason, you know? All the attention is very much deserved. I can't emphasize enough how good it is.

You can watch the TV show The Untamed as well (and the acting is fantastic) but, to me, the experience is just not the same. The TV show removes all explicit romance references from the story, in order to comply with China's censorship. The book leaves nothing out. It is very much a romance, through and through, and it's an epic one. There's slow burn, pining, misunderstandings, fighting everything and everyone for your loved one and coming out stronger on the other side. Truly worth the read.

As the grandmaster who founded the Demonic Path, Wei Wuxian roamed the world in his wanton ways, hated by millions for the chaos he created. In the end, he was backstabbed by his brother and killed by powerful clans that combined to overpower him. He incarnates into the body of a lunatic who was abandoned by his clam and is later, unwillingly, taken away by a famous cultivator among the clans — Lan Wanji. This marks the start of a thrilling yet hilarious journey of attacking monsters, solving mysteries, and raising children. From the mutual flirtation along the way, Wei Wuxian slowly realizes that Lan Wangji, a seemingly haughty and indifferent poker-face, holds more feelings for Wei Wuxian than he is letting on.

[personuhh]

okay so awhile ago you posted something about Yosuke (crazy, right?) and in the tags I believe you mentioned something about how you don’t like Yosukes parents? Could you elaborate? bc I have not stopped thinking about it since you mentioned it (sorry this is so vague my memory is horrid skjdjfjgj)

OYSUEJGHHBKEJHDSGVDH oh my god okay SO. At first I just got ~vibes~ from him... like, I couldn’t quite pin down what made me think he had abusive parents, because obviously he never says anything to indicate it explicitly, but then I started noticing... small things.

I don’t want to say outright that I think they’re abusive (physically or verbally) and I also don’t think that Yosuke hates them, or necessarily even sees anything wrong with how they treat him, but I do think that their behavior has severely impacted Yosuke and led to a lot of the negative traits he displays.

To me, the most telling example is this conversation where he talks about Teddie being praised by his parents for being “thoughtful” very pointedly in front of him. It seems to be a reoccurring thing where they compare him to other people (primarily Teddie) and make him feel inferior. Yosuke’s a bit of a pushover, and frequently gets taken advantage of monetarily, and in this case he’s caved and lent Teddie a significant chunk of his savings for their trip to Tatsumi Port Island... only for him to spend it on presents to suck up to Yosuke’s parents which makes Yosuke look unthoughtful. Yosuke clearly sees it that way, even if Teddie hadn’t intentionally planned it out from the start as such (he calls Teddie “surprisingly shrewd”).

Yosuke gets told off either because a) he didn’t want to fight back/argue, and instead just took a passive stance instead of telling his parents that he was the one to lend Teddie the money in the first place, and thus didn’t have any left to buy them gifts, or b) his parents think so little of him that they don’t believe him at all. He specifically says he doubts his parents understand, which makes me think that he did try to explain the situation.

There are also several instances of a large Junes event being Yosuke’s responsibility, or at least of him thinking that he has to scramble to make things work, like the Junes concert, where he says he’ll have to move away if it doesn’t pan out; maybe this is his own thinking, but I also wouldn’t be surprised if it was something his dad said to scare him into helping, especially considering he MUST know that Yosuke is friends with Rise, or the time during the summer where he calls Yu and begs him to help out. Yosuke isn’t a manager, but he’s still got all the responsibilities of one, and even tries his best to work out other employees’ problems as well (look at his SL).

The Junes concert in particular really sent up some red flags for me, especially because Yosuke says this.

“Awfully nice for some reason”?

Yosuke’s got terrible self-esteem, there are countless times where he’s shown to be overwhelmed and embarrassed by completely genuine praise from his friends. In one of the drama CDs he mentions that he intentionally doesn’t try his best in school because he doesn’t want to disappoint himself by doing poorly while also knowing that he gave his all. It really makes me think that his parents just have an abysmally low opinion of him, and he’s adopted that same view of himself.

There’s also several scenes where he talks about his parents finding his porn (or Teddie showing it to them) and in his SL he says his mom “read the title out loud to [his] family” which on top of obviously indicating his family is pretty conservative about that kind of thing, also means he’s had to learn to be secretive with them to some extent. In Arena, Yosuke’s mother goes as far as burning the porn Teddie finds. Even if it's meant to be humorous, Yosuke's property is still being destroyed.

Now these next few things are more... abstract and can definitely be argued, but personally I still find them important to point out when discussing the topic.

Yosuke obviously struggles with toxic masculinity, and similarly to Kanji, feels like he needs to be the ideal, strong man that protects the weak, etc. Even without looking at specific dialogue, you can tell that Yosuke’s been raised to think he needs to be a “real” man, that displaying more “feminine” behaviors is a sign of weakness; because that isn’t just subtextual, it’s something he very visibly displays, it’s part of his arc. He can’t mourn and cry, he has to get revenge (because he couldn’t protect Saki at the time and he watched helplessly as she died, it makes it his fault), he says hugs are for girls (a common sentiment, but he had to learn it from somewhere), and any time he slips up and reveals his actual feelings, he has to overcompensate, let everyone know that he’s just your average teenage boy who’s definitely interested in women. Yosuke’s not the most masculine guy, he likes fashion and cares about his appearance (the bar is so low) and I’d bet that if he were given space to explore his interests without any expectations, he might actually find he’s into stuff that goes against what he’s been taught. He admits to liking crossdressing, then walks it back; not because he’s ashamed of it (on the contrary, once he realizes people found him cute, he openly brags about it), but because he thinks he SHOULD be ashamed of it.

It’s why he feels so threatened by Kanji, who completely takes him by surprise when he realizes his outer appearance and interests don’t match up. Now Yosuke’s got to compete with Kanji over who’s the manliest, show that he’s not like Kanji, because Kanji’s already accepted that side of himself, and it totally goes against everything Yosuke’s been taught to think is “normal”.

So then we look at lines like this.

On its own it’s nothing special, but it’s not just the slogan itself, it’s the way that Yosuke specifically says that his dad is still saying it. Combining this with what I mentioned previously about Yosuke’s behavior, and a few other tidbits, like Teddie mentioning that he watches violent war movies with Yosuke’s dad, it definitely makes me think he’s the type of guy who’d try and push Yosuke into being more masculine, being a traditional, unshakable, unemotional man.

Lastly, there’s the recently identified album on Yosuke’s shelf in arena, and what do you know, one of the songs on it (The Chain, by Mr. Big) has these lyrics...

In my mind, I see Yosuke’s mother as an incredibly controlling, strict woman who expects her son to be utterly perfect, and even when he’s good, it’s never good enough. Yosuke’s father is busy with Junes, and while he isn’t around the house too often, Yosuke sees him at work quite a bit, large and in-charge, not allowing anyone to see weakness, he leans on his son because he can’t bring himself to ask for help. Yosuke’s left to pick up the slack, and he’s taught by example that relying on others is cowardly, that being intimidating gets you further than being “nice”. Even though Yosuke obviously goes against this, he can't fully commit for fear of standing out and disappointing his parents, and that makes him passive; he ends up being a pushover, and neither of his parents are happy about that. He’s a “disappointment” to them, it’s one of his defining traits that everyone loves to bring up. It's something that's shown to really get under his skin, but he can never do much more than get angry, because he truly thinks he is a disappointment, he doesn't think highly of himself, even if he protests.

Maybe I’m reading into all of these things a little too much, but... I don’t know, I’ve said it before, but I just don’t see how half of Yosuke’s personality would have been shaped by anything other than his parents being Not Great.

[tossawary]

Chapter 25: “Home Sweet Home” of “pride is not the word I’m looking for” quotes and commentary. Not a full list of favorite quotes or full commentary. 

-

 Anyway, Shang Qinghua makes himself  so fucking sincerely annoying that the Huan Hua Palace Sect cultivators can’t figure out how to politely tell him to fuck off fast enough. Shang Qinghua makes outlandish assumptions about how many thieves there are (at least a dozen, he’s sure, probably twice that) and what methods they might be using (special invisibility talismans, he suspects); Shang Qinghua repeatedly apologizes for being too busy with important things for Cultivator O.B.B. at the last Immortal Alliance Conference, then tries to commiserate with the man about having to get important things done without getting any respect for it; Shang Qinghua also anxiously wonders if they should all go to Zhao Hua Temple Sect to report what happened here, since there’s a troublesome demon and also some sneaky rogue cultivator thieves on the loose out here! He gets turned down immediately, but assures everyone that he’ll at least let Yue Qingyuan know everything that happened here right away! 

 Liu Qingge pretty much just stands there scowling silently the entire time - he’s no Shen Qingqiu for sheer menacing  "I can and I will ruin your entire life"  glares, but he’s still pretty intimidating. He does a great job! No notes! 

 Shang Qinghua nearly pats himself on the back as he and Liu Qingge leave less than an hour after he arrives.  “Holy shit, I’m good,”  he thinks, a little giddy with the successful extraction.  “That’s a skill that good ol’ Liu-Shidi will never have!” 

 -

AN: Of course this has a high chance of backfiring. Is Shang Qinghua going to weave webs of lies anyway? Of course. 

Love the fact that Shang Qinghua can shamelessly act like a total pushover, while actually manipulating someone so that he gets the results he wanted. Some snobby sect leader walks into a negotiation room, prepared to use SQH as a doormat, and Shang Qinghua is probably internally like, “Bro, me and my jelly spine welcome you to hell.” 

- 

 He gives them the rundown on what happened, but, to his complete lack of surprise, that doesn’t seem to satisfy interrogators like his little sister-in-law and his fellow transmigrator. They have so many questions! And Shang Qinghua doesn’t have enough answers for them! 

 No, he doesn’t know what Huan Hua Palace Sect knows or thinks they know. No, he doesn’t know how they knew about that place. No, he doesn’t know whether the monster was just a local opportunist preying on distracted cultivators or something more sinister. No, he’s not experimenting with the creepy special item or discussing it at length here. No, Luo Fanli and Peerless Cucumber are not allowed to poke at the creepy special item! 

 Why the fuck would he ever let them do that?! 

 All Shang Qinghua knows is that Luo Fanli and Peerless Cucumber should eat their vegetables and then go to bed! Because they all have a long journey back to the sect in the morning! And also that words cannot describe how painfully old he feels as soon as he says this. 

-

AN: I’ve been thinking about a Demon Trio fanfic in which Mobei-Jun finds himself in a similar position with Luo Binghe and Sha Hualing. 

Mobei-Jun and Shang Qinghua are, like, bare minimum twice the age of Luo Binghe and Shen Yuan. Like, yes, neither Mobei-Jun nor Shang Qinghua are old old by the standard of the PIDW world. Yes, MBJ and SQH are stunted as all get out. But the fact that they have bare minimum 2x the life experience as Bingqiu is, in my opinion, funny as hell and severely underused in fanfiction. 

Like, imagine Mobei-Jun unintentionally dadding new demon LBH in SVSSS. Mobei-Jun being like, “Don’t eat the meat from this monster. It makes you hallucinate.” Or being like, “These people aren’t politically important enough to be shown this kind of respect. Look down on them properly and go sleep, or no one will ever respect you again in demon politics.” 

MBJ looking at SVSSS LBH and SHL like, “Damn, who raised you?” 

Because, like, I love to joke about Mobei-Jun being an oblivious fool, but that’s in regards to human culture. Mobei-Jun operating on demonic culture + his level of arrogance in regards to how he’s handling SQH suggests that MBJ can be politically savvy among demons when he wants to be. Also, the mental picture of MBJ being like, “Eat your weird demon vegetables, there’s nothing wrong with them, you picky half-breed brat,” is extremely funny. 

I’ll probably turn this into a separate post. 

- 

Shang Qinghua does  not  miss the man’s unconcealed  “oh, great, some of my favorite problem people are back, probably with bad news”  expression when they arrive. The man is not at all impressed to hear about the drugged-up Shadow Cave Wolf Spiders or the evil, murderous, madness-inducing plant they fought on their mission, but the Qian Cao Peak Lord is reluctantly, partially placated by the jar of three-eyed skeleton tears Shang Qinghua super thoughtfully brought back for his inspection. Mu Qingfang really likes his research projects! 

 Shang Qinghua lets himself feel kind of good about this gift - he’s the man who gets things and gets things done - and ignores the Weeper’s Eye whispering in his head,  “He has resigned himself to the untimely deaths of everyone he knows.” 

 (Wow. Oh, Shang Qinghua knows that feeling!) 

-

AN: Mu Qingfang doesn’t think that everyone around him is inevitably going to die, he’s just extremely aware of how dangerous the world is and how reckless cultivators can be. Also, for many years, he was fairly certain that Liu Qingge and Shen Qingqiu were headed for bad ends. 

This felt like a good place to insert some optimism back into the sect in general. Luo Fanli has been cured and is willingly going to visit her sister, Liu Qingge has got a hold on his self-destructive tendencies, Mu Qingfang thinks things are getting better, Shen Qingqiu’s health problems have been essentially fixed, Qijiu might actually work their shit out, Shen Yuan shares his real name with Shang Qinghua, and so on and so forth. 

It felt like a good contrast with and buildup towards Luo Binghe’s Skinner mistake (not everything is rosy yet, there are still growing problems), the secret basement, and the encounter with Bing-Ge. 

Only to flip that around and then bring some surprise Moshang into things! 

- 

“I have now been informed that, after learning that you had returned and, at the very least, completing the duties that were intended to have him reflect on his actions, he has disappeared yet again,” Shen Qingqiu continues. “This second disappearance has set some of the other junior disciples into a renewed panic, which has concerned some of the senior disciples, which was, apparently, cause to alert me.”   

 “Ah,” Shang Qinghua says. 

-

AN: Shen Jiu should not be in charge of a bunch of children, but it is funny to imagine him going through the same “be a less shit person” adoption process as Shang Qinghua. Like, oh, it would be so easy for him to be cruel about this situation, but fuck you if he’s going to be outdone in the recovery and redemption process by Shang Qinghua of all people. 

Shang Qinghua: *grows into a kind of decent person* 

Shen Jiu: “Fuck you. That’s not allowed.” 

Shen Jiu: “...” 

Shen Jiu: “Well, if THAT FUCKER of all people can do it...” 

- 

 Shang Qinghua doesn’t have to look long or far to find his nephew. He finds the young protagonist sitting despondently on the doorstep of his own Leisure House, sniffling into his sleeve. Peerless Cucumber of all people is sitting beside him and keeping him company. 

  “Focusing on other people’s lives is easier than looking at his own.” 

 “-think a drowning man first has to save himself… or else he’s only going to bring down the people he’s trying to save,” Peerless Cucumber is saying. 

 Binghe nods. 

- 

AN: Going by, like, the everything of SVSSS, Shen Yuan really is the asshole going, “I’ll die before I look inwards to recognize and deal with my own emotions.” Also, going, “Yes, I’m a hypocrite who won’t take my own advice. And what about it?” What a repressed nerd. 

- 

 Shang Qinghua clears his throat to get their attention. Both kids (well, teenager and young adult, but still...  kids)  look up and then stand up quickly. Luo Binghe takes a forgetful step forward, before he wobbles into an appropriate respectful bow instead. 

 “Shang-Shishu!” 

  “How dearly this boy is loved!”  the Weeper’s Eye declares, in its soft way inside Shang Qinghua’s head.  “More than life itself! More than death itself!” 

 “Ah, never mind all that,” Shang Qinghua says, and steps forward to wrap his nephew in a quick hug instead, keeping the creepy talking eye oriented away from his nephew. “You’re a little too late to talk to me about your mission before your shizun did.” 

 Binghe, who was just relaxing into the unexpected hug, freezes. 

 Shang Qinghua knowingly pats the poor young protagonist on the back.

  “Oh, shit” is right! 

- 

AN: Uncle Shang really is adorable. Still kind of knocks me for a loop writing it, though, given that the SVSSS SQH and LBH relationship is... nothing like this whatsoever. Look upon the field of SQH and LBH content and see that it is relatively barren except for the stubborn motherfuckers with excellent taste in character exploration. 

-

  “Ahhh, well, I’ll be there too for this potential family reunion, bro,” Shang Qinghua assures him. “Maybe we can finally get to the bottom of where this ‘Shen Yuan’ name came from.” 

 Peerless Cucumber makes a strange expression. 

 “What?” 

 “...It’s my name.” 

 “What?” Shang Qinghua repeats. 

 “It’s my name,” Peerless Cucumber says again, quietly. “It’s my real name.” 

 “Oh.” 

  “Huh,” Shang Qinghua thinks, having been operating on the assumption that the System made the name up for its mysterious backstory. Well, that gives new dimensions to Peerless Cucumber’s criticism of the scum villain! 

 “You can use it,” Peerless Cucumber says, with an air of determined nonchalance. “Everyone else is doing it.” 

 “Ah, alright. Thanks.” 

- 

AN: This is probably the part where I would have made Shang Qinghua reveal his original name in turn... IF HE HAD ONE. It drives me... kind of wild that we get the Airplane Extras and we STILL don’t get 1) Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky’s original name, and 2) MOBEI-JUN’s name. 

Which actually makes things a little more interesting here, in my opinion, even though not having those names gets a little frustrating in terms of fanfiction writing. With Mobei-Jun, you get to explore the fucked up possibilities of him not having a name outside of his identity as the future Northern King. With Shang Qinghua, you get to explore him being a squirrelly little fuck who refuses to let anyone into his life. 

So, because we don’t have Airplane’s name, we actually get this mildly interesting dynamic in which Shang Qinghua doesn’t even really think to reveal it to Shen Yuan. We don’t see this part, but Shen Yuan is actually a little miffed by this degree of secrecy, which is going to come up later. (Shen Yuan doesn’t like the fact that Shang Qinghua has as much power over him as he does.) 

I personally do not hold the headcanon that Airplane’s name was “Shang Qinghua”. It’s a little too on the nose for me. At that point, the only reaction to transmigrating into SQH kind of has to be, “Ah, well, I was asking for that!” Maybe Airplane projected his worst qualities onto Shang Qinghua, but I don’t think he went so far as to give the character his own name. 

Airplane’s main identity when he died appears to have been Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky, and we know that he wasn’t particularly close to his divorced parents and any step- or half-siblings. So, the only names that are really relevant post-transmigration are “Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky” and “Shang Qinghua”. By the time that SY gets here, he’s firmly entrenched in those identities, and his original name is completely irrelevant. I could honestly believe that Airplane just doesn’t think it matters anymore. 

- 

 Shang Qinghua’s nephew, in the way of a true young protagonist or  fucking cannon fodder, got the bright fucking idea to slip away to speak with the concubine called Butterfly privately. 

 “I thought: what if she didn’t want to speak in front of that lecherous old man? What if she wanted to get away from him?” Binghe confesses. 

 “She was the demon,” Shang Qinghua guesses. 

 Binghe nods, voice breaking. “It was…  I was  really,  really stupid, Uncle.” 

 “Well, at least you know that,” Shang Qinghua sighs, and pats his sniffly nephew on the back again. 

 Oh, he can see why Shen Qingqiu was  pissed the fuck off now. Shang Qinghua kind of wants to start yelling! Or maybe just screaming, coherently or otherwise! 

 Except yelling isn’t going to help much right now. 

 Shang Qinghua listens as Luo Binghe recounts being captured by the demon and then waking up bound by Immortal Binding Cables - of being so terrified that he could barely breathe with it. His only hope was Ning Yingying and Ming Fan tattling on his disappearance and a senior disciple tracking him down on time. The skinner demon apparently nearly killed Binghe, crooning over his young and beautiful skin, except a flash of warm light intervened and dropped an unstable part of the ceiling in on them before they could hurt the captured protagonist. 

 “Fu-Shijie and Shizun arrived after that and k-killed it,” Binghe says. “Uncle, it was all  stupid luck!  Shizun said I should have been dead and that, between my efforts and the demon’s, he had no idea how I wasn't! And he was right! It was  so close! If the ceiling hadn’t fallen in like that-! Fu-Shijie suggested the ropes might be faulty and it could have been an unconscious use of spiritual energy, but I didn’t do anything! It wasn’t me!” 

 It  sounds like the System to Shang Qinghua, intervening again at a crucial moment to prevent the premature death of the protagonist. Just thinking about how close his nephew came to dying without him knowing is nearly enough to inspire a cold sweat! Shang Qinghua can’t speak about the System, so all he can really do is keep hugging! Keep holding on for dear life and saying soothing nothings to his crying nephew! 

- 

AN: I wanted to include the Skinner mission, but I didn’t want to redo it onscreen because that’s been done in many fanfictions before and I felt that there was really no good reason for Shang Qinghua to be a part of it. The reason I wanted to include it is to show how the plot is off the track of the SVSSS (and PIDW) stories, with the changed LBH and the changed Original SQQ. 

LBH wants to be a hero, but he’s not there yet. 

- 

 “...Don’t put yourself above him… or below him. Tell him what you want and listen to what he wants, and don’t be surprised if things don’t change all at once,” Shang Qinghua advises and, at Yue Qingyuan’s look, quickly raises his hands. “Ahhh, not my business, I know! Not my business! I just… I hope it works out! I hope you two get something better out of this mess! Aha, make the sect meetings a little less awkward and… things.” 

  “He has never known what better looks like. He will always be Yue Qi, the slave boy. No matter what he does.” 

 “...Thank you,” Yue Qingyuan says finally, thoughtfully. “I appreciate your… restraint in this matter… in recent months.” 

 Aha, yikes. 

-

AN: I know that some people wanted more stomping on Yue Qingyuan, but... like... this man is as or nearly as traumatized as Shen Qingqiu. His childhood fucking sucked. He broke his own soul trying to save Shen Jiu and failed. He made some shit decisions where Shen Qingqiu was concerned, but the logic and trauma he’s operating on are pretty obvious. He was trying. 

Part of the theme around the Qijiu and Moshang arcs has also been “an eye for an eye”. Like, are you guys really going to keep on not communicating with each other and then fucking up and then taking chunks out of each other? How many misunderstandings and upset over misunderstandings are you going to throw at each other? Where do you put your foot down and say, “I don’t want to live like this forever. We can be better than this. I want better than this.” 

Like, it can’t just be hurting each other back and forth (this applies to Qijiu more than Moshang, in which MBJ definitely carries the weight of this fuck-up). It can’t just be privately nursing hurt feelings forever. The options here are “fix it” or “live like this forever”. Fixing it won’t happen immediately, but the other option fucking sucks, so every little step helps. 

So Shang Qinghua here is just like, “Bro, I’m tired. My anger has cooled a lot. I just want all our lives to suck less. I hope things work out for you.” 

[xo-cuteplosion-xo]

Shameless self promotion ahead- why? Because i have nothing else but soukoku brain-rot rn (yes, I'm working on the stack of request for my personality HC thing- but some of ya'll gave so little information it be hard T_T)

-Bsd college Au- (It's soukoku)

Dazai’s confident, independent, smart, but a total jerk and playboy

.Chuuya's confident, independent, slightly idiotic, but a total pushover.

Dazai’s unorganized, calm, and enjoys making his roommate's life hell.

Chuuya’s organized, irritable, and hates his roommate with his entire soul.

Sadly, Dazai finds his roommate appealing to the eye, in other words hot, but he’s still… a closeted bisexual.

Sadly, Chuuya finds his roommate hot, but his roommate insists they’re straight.

Nakahara Chuuya and Dazai Osamu are roommates.

Chapter 1: Roommates With every rustle of the leaves, a brisk wind passed over, chilling the humidity to be bearable for a moment. Yokohama tended to have warm summers, even towards the end there were days when the humidity stung. It could be cold enough for a hoodie in the early morning, but far too humid for one in the later afternoon, right before it cooled down again. The signs that lead into the sweet release of the cool fall season.

“You know, I said I was helping, not doing most of the work here.” Oda, a male with slight stubble and brown, slightly red hair grumbled. His eyes looked back to another male, arms wrapped in bandages, and eyes drained of any emotion. The smallest cardboard box within his hands as he snickered.

The boy was Dazai Osamu, an 18-year-old who’d pushed through hell to make it here. Despite not wanting to go to college and instead be a basement dump until he died, he stuck his tongue out.

Within that exact second, Dazai's eyes filled with life, something that he could do on command, a mask of sorts. “But Odasaku, I can’t carry all the heavy boxes!” the childish whine Dazai produced towards his cousin scraped within the poor adult's ears.

“If you ate anything besides ramen and take-out, you might be more than skin and bones,” Oda grumbled. Setting the final box down in the dorm room. So far there hadn’t been a sign of whoever Dazai’s roommate was to be. Oda prayed for the unfortunate soul who had to deal with the brunette.

“I don’t only eat ramen! I ate vegetables just yesterday!” Dazai crossed his arms, laying his finger over his bandages.

“The ‘vegetables’- Oda moved his hands to form air quotes around vegetables - in those 10-minute self serve ramen packets don’t actually count.'' Frowning Dazai pouted, acting like a child once again. It was something Oda had never minded considering his cousin had never had a real childhood.

Before he could make another whiny remark, the door to the dorm opened.

~

Stepping from a rather expensive-looking car, a ginger-haired male stepped outside into the warmth of the closing summer. His hair, longer on one side than the other, rested neatly over his shoulder. His feminine-like frame caused him to stand out a bit more than he’d like. Though, it was natural for a model to stand out in the crowd. Not that he modeled too often, it had been a pastime after moving in his third year to Yokohama. He’d done it with his older sister a handful of times before then, but she’d left for London just before they moved.

Grabbing one of the cases, he glanced at his father, who was getting out of the car. “Dad, I can handle this myself, you really don’t have to help me.” The petite male mumbled slightly embarrassed. Though, his words were the truth considering his strength was out of the ordinary for his size.

“Nonsense Chuuya, let you old man at least have this.” The boy's father, a male who kept his locks of raven hair down to his waist in length, shivered as he spoke.

Chuuya sighed, handing his father a few smaller boxes as he grabbed several of the larger boxes. “How’s Ane-San been?” Chuuya hadn't been able to call her with how busy he’d been the last month, he suspected his father, with how protective he was, had to have called at least once.

“Ah, Koyo has been doing alright. Both she and Yosano (Koyo's fiance) plan on coming down for Christmas.” Rimbaud smiled lightly as he spoke. Chuuya’s lips also turned into a smile hearing that he’d finally met his older sister's fiance. The two of them had been engaged since she’d graduated from college two years ago, and had been together for 5 years before that. “So when will you be attempting dating again? I do miss that boy… it was Shirace right?”

As his father mentioned the boy's name, Chuuya's stomach tightened and his heart picked up before he calmed himself. The two of them were cities apart, he’d never see that boy again. Shaking off the thoughts that had flashed within his mind, he smiled. “It wasn’t meant to be dad. Regarding another boyfriend, I don’t know. I know Ane-San dated a lot, I'm just not sure I want to get back into dating yet.” Chuuya shrugged as they came up to his assigned dorm. Grabbing the handle, he twisted it and opened it, coming face to face with his roommate looking like he was about to start a childish bicker with whoever that was.

“Hey…” Chuuya’s attempt at speaking was completely suffocated when Dazai turned to look at his roommate. God, he was more than just good-looking. Sure Dazai was on the frail and thin-looking side, but he still looked perfect. The shape of his jaw, to the depth of the brunette's coffee-colored eyes, all added to his looks. That was also looking past the males' ideal height. He was positive, the brunette noticed he was being checked out.

“He’s so… so short.” Dazai snickered as he looked Chuuya up and down. His eyes glanced all around looking for little things to poke fun at. At least, that’s what he was saying he was doing. There was no way he was checking Chuuya out. Sure, he did resemble a girl, at least a little bit. His eyes were a replica of the clear ocean. The way his hair curled around his face, the small freckles that stood against his pale complexion… were all attractive.

At least, it had been until the male’s brow twitched and his hands balled into fists. “I’m still growing!” he hissed almost like an angry child. Rimbaud sighed, tapping his son's shoulder.

Oda looked to him apologetically before turning to Dazai. “That’s the first thing you can say? Not, hey or hello?” Dazai shrugged, walking to his room with a yawn.

“Eh, I’m tired, I wasn't thinking of being polite. Plus, when am I ever polite?” Dazai smirked, leaning his head back as he shoved his hands into his back pockets. Sadly, his statement was nothing less than honest. He was never polite. If he wanted something, he was upfront about it. How else would he have such a long list of girls' hearts he’d shattered?

Chuuya rolled his eyes before moving the rest of his boxes into the dorm. ~

Chuuya took an hour to get everything from the boxes and his suitcase into his closet and drawers. His secret box, which he’d made sure to carry in, was still packed tightly, but that was because he was figuring what to do with it. Luckily, his closet had the perfect space for bottles. Unlucky to him that space was out of his reach. Hissing to himself, he looked around before grabbing the footrest to one of the chairs. When he finished organizing and making sure every drawer was labeled with what should be put inside, he glanced around.

His roommate had yet to unpack anything from his boxes. Not that there seemed to be many boxes to begin with. In fact, they were all labeled, one box of clothes, another labeled self-car, and a third labeled bandages. That had been something he noticed about his roommate. Rolling his eyes, Chuuya moved to knock on his roommate's door. The response he got was grumbled and inaudible. “Are you going to unpack?” there still came no response, so he figured his roommate was simply sleeping after a long trip or something. Shrugging it off, Chuuya walked into his room, directly next to dazai’s with a very thin wall separating them. Pulling out a sketchbook and some pencils, he put on some music and began sketching some art designs.

[mydisasteracademia]

Random Shigaraki Headcanons

This boi. This grubby boi. I love him so much but at the same time he would probably literally dust me so... (oof this one kinda dragged on and on... lol)

Literally has no idea about real-life relationship dynamics outside of what he’s observed in his own parents, in Sensei, and in Kurogiri. All he thinks in the beginning is that people who claim to love you will stand by and let you be hurt, that villains took care of him better than any damn hero, and that he can only truly rely on himself. (And Sensei.)

It takes a loooooooong time of interacting with other people to break himself out of this mindset, and even then, sometimes it comes creeping back if bad things happen.

Getting into canon territory with this one, but really, really, reeeeeeeeally hates heroes because they didn’t even bother to help him when he was going through a whole mental breakdown. Literally one of the only reasons he hates them so much. I know this is pretty much canon, but I doubt he would ever grasp Stain’s ideology of ‘maybe some are good’ because in his eyes, not even the underground pro heroes even bothered to see if he was okay. Remember the scene from the manga with the old lady when he was a child? Yeah. There were bound to be heroes he bumped into, even off-duty ones, and nobody even gave him another glance.

Has extremely bad abandonment issues. If he likes you, he’s gonna want to keep you because he didn’t really have anything nice to call his own while growing up, and Sensei kept him fairly isolated so he literally tolerates nobody else other than him and Kurogiri at first. Reacts horribly when his friends want to break off the friendship. Goes through a whole depressive episode for a while, his old insecurities pop back up, and he really thinks he’s worse than trash and not worth anyone’s time or attention for a while. Prime time for Sensei to further twist his mind.

On that same note, if you’re dating, for the love of everything still good in this world do not break his heart. He will never forgive you. Literally will go to the grave before he forgives you for doing what you did (whether it be cheating on him or completely dropping him like a hot potato). Although this might also extend to little issues that make him feel like you don’t love him enough, he’ll forgive you if you show him plenty of attention and apologize for whatever he was upset over. If you cannot remain patient through his toxic mindsets, it’s best not to get into a relationship in the first place with him if you want to still remain friends afterward, because breaking it off means instant heartbreak.

Anyway! Back to happier, funnier hcs!!

The whole embodiment of the “Wears black in summer because I look good and am willing to suffer” vine. Will not give up his comfy black shirt and sweats for anything because yes, he does look good in black, and yes, he is willing to suffer. He’ll switch to a v-neck tee though. Even he’s not that masochistic.

Really prone to dry skin. I know that’s canon, but just... this poor man can’t keep moisturized to save his own life. Constantly has to apply a special moisturizer that’s specifically made for ultra-sensitive skin and has no scents whatsoever.

Will gripe about having to spend so much money on ointment and moisturizer for both him and Dabi. It’s one of the very few things they bond over, other than having a shitty father and pushover family... and their hatred of All Might.

Shigaraki 100% would be Dabi’s alibi if he actually managed to kill Endeavor. When it comes to the shitty dad club, he’s a fuckin’ ride-or-die.

Kinda sensitive over the fact that both he and Midoriya have the same sort of red shoes, but he loves his pair too much to throw them out. Purposefully aims for Midoriya’s shoes every single time they meet each other on the off chance that they get ruined enough for him to get different shoes, unknowing that he literally can’t just... get differently-colored shoes due to him being originally Quirkless (yes, The Shoes™ theory strikes again)

Literally never forgets a single thing about people he cares about. He’s the type of person who will remember every single thing you tell him about yourself, and especially birthdays. While he doesn’t exactly show his affection very loudly, he would be the type of person who tell you “happy birthday” on the day of as soon as he first sees you, and would treat you a little nicer all day that day.

This boy just has the biggest, scarred heart for his ‘good crowd’. I cannot stress enough just how much like Midoriya he could’ve turned out if he hadn’t been abandoned by society. This mf would give the green bean a run for his motherfuckin money.

“I really just hate the world and everything in it... except for you, maybe I could make an exception for you because you’re nice to me and I appreciate your company too much”

Even though I hc quite a few League members to be like cats when it comes to affection, Shigaraki’s spirit animal is a cat. Likes to lounge about in off-moments, slow to affection and very quick to remember exactly how people treat him, yet if he likes you he shows affection quietly enough that it’s not obvious at first. Like “oh, you’re in the same room as me. It’s not like I missed you or anything, me sitting right next to you at the bar when it’s totally empty means nothing. The fact that I’m looking right at you when you’re talking doesn’t mean I like you.”

LOVES HUGS. If you hug him and he likes you, you’ve probably made his whole day. Depending on how things are going, probably his whole fucking week. Just please hug him, he needs positive affection so bad

Major tsun-tsun. The most tsun-tsun. Grumpy until you get to know him, and if he likes you he’ll show you in little ways: listening to your ideas more, letting you stay closer for longer, maybe getting you something like food.

AFRAID OF TOUCH. I REPEAT, AFRAID OF TOUCH. Not from anyone he likes, of course; this baby is so touch-starved that he deserves a thousand hugs. But if he likes you, he will not initiate physical affection because he’s so afraid of accidentally dusting you. The memories of his family dying (except for his father, because #FuckKotaro2k21) haunt him almost every time he dreams (and if that doesn’t, then other traumatizing events certainly do), and he absolutely would not forgive himself if he dusted his favorite League member/civilian.

Definitely likens the rest of the League to his MVPs after a while of knowing them. Knowing how he operates, it’s adorable.

Would begrudgingly let Toga play around with his hair. I can just see him sitting blank-faced, staring at the mirror as she talks about whatever while brushing and braiding it into a cute plait. He would be hesitant to undo her hard work afterward, no matter how much he grouches that it “ruins his boss vibe”.

The kind of person to go to McDonalds at 3 AM just because he was craving chicken nuggets and ranch. Yes, ranch. He’s an old-school mf who don’t got no time for no barbecue.

Gets really irritated over Toga mooning over Uraraka and Midoriya, but doesn’t stop her from talking about how much she wants to ‘be’ them. (Encourages homicide. Advises homicide. Spinner has to stop her from actually getting ready to commit homicide.)

Disgruntled™

G L O A T S about the time he took away Overhaul’s chance to use his Quirk. “Yeah, we would’ve been satisfied with Compress taking his left arm away to be petty, but then Overhaul had to be a sentient piece of dick cheese, and well, y’know I couldn’t let him get away with that”

It’s becoming a problem. The others have learnt to tune him out once he gets going. Compress just smiles under the mask when he remembers it. Nobody knows what he’s really thinking.

His damn crowning moment. His apex point. There’s no going further beyond that (until he finally defeats Midoriya and takes over Japan as the world’s most feared villain of all time).

“Shigaraki, I’mma let you finish, but AFO still holds the record for being the most infamous villain of all time! Of all time!” <-- let the boy dream okay, he’s been waiting for this moment his whole damn life

Can you tell that I’m still horribly salty over Overhaul being an ass? Because I’m still horribly salty over Overhaul being an ass

Chronic emo phase. Hears the G note and just sighs heavily

Has probably seen hentai. Doesn’t really get the appeal of high-pitched feminine screams. Probably more of a tiddy man than an ass man. Just... boobie

His first fictional crush was Aeris/Aerith. Legitimately lost his shit when she died.

Man Crush Monday is Sephiroth all the way. Especially his one-winged angel form. Wanted to cosplay him for Halloween but didn’t because the cosplay was too costly.

Will make “That’s what she said” jokes in the most deadpan voice. At least Mustard kinda snickers at them.

Probably would’ve been pretty patient with Eri. Her traumatic past certainly would’ve pitted her as a kindred spirit with him, and he would think her Quirk would be a powerful asset if used right. Probably would’ve practiced it by destroying something and then telling her to rewind it so that he can break it again.

Shigaraki, holding Eri by her armpits: “I’ve only had her for ten minutes but if anything happened to her I’d dust everyone in the room to make her feel better”

The rest of the League: “???????? Okay?????”

Legitimately holds a powerful grudge against parents who abuse or neglect their children, especially against abusive fathers. Almost as powerful as his hatred for All Might. Will actively go after someone he sees is abusive to their children and will not let them live.

Would probably adopt an orphan after killing their abusive parents. “Oh, that was your dad/mom/parent? Well guess you’re mine now. Let’s go get chicken nuggets, kid”

Might somehow rope Dabi into going abusive-parent-hunting with him during a raid. Takes great pleasure in seeing the guilty party’s horrified, pained look on their face as they slowly dissolve into a pile of ash.

[justletmeplayminecraft]

Did you see that Badtime popped onto the server to intimidate Etho during Joe Hills livestream? Because that really reminded me of your Wels and Scar fic and that was 👀

i did indeed and ngl, i thought of it too! this is the conversation in question. also i need to practice etho’s voice more so there’s totally not a fic under the read more that i wrote inspired by it. seriously though, same kinda warnings as the last fic in the reckoning verse. and my etho voice still needs work.

"Etho." Etho turns at the sound of Scar's voice, his thumbs resting in his pockets. He tilts his head in greeting, a smile hidden behind his mask.

"Hey Scar." Scar is leaning against the diamond throne. It sparkles around him, reflecting onto his purple suit. It's only a stage above Etho's own base decoration, really. He's never been quite as attached to the shiny rocks as the other hermits. "Fancy finding you here. In the town hall."

"Fancy that indeed." Scar folds his arms, regarding Etho without an expression. Etho's heard the guy's been a bit off lately. He's not spent much time around the hermit to really tell. What, with attempting to evade taxes and all. Fair game is fair game, in his opinion. He's doing nothing illegal. "Are you here to finally pay up?"

"Hey-" Etho shrugs, "-I've paid my taxes." He's just finished paying for his grounded stores, at least. He holds a hand out to the boards before tucking it back away. Scar's stare is scrutinising. Etho meets it square on.

"Etho, come here." Scar's voice drops. Etho steps back.

"Hey, if there's any taxes you think I should've paid, why don't you get your enforcer to deal with that? My blocks are all in those frames." He's heard about Wels taking that role. Most of the hermits have paid anyway, the pushovers. But he's heard of some... Interesting things. Even so, he thinks he'd prefer whatever Wels is doing to the coldness coming from Scar right now.

"I think I'd rather deal with you personally." Scar steps around the side to the ladder, wiggling Etho to the front of the throne with a finger. "Come here, Etho."

Etho's not sure what shifts around him. The air turns more frigid than inside his ice shop, weighing on his body and squeezing tight. What makes his heart skip a beat is how he moves, walking in front of the throne just as Scar plops down on it. Etho looks up, trying to understand why his body has completely disconnected from his control. Scar's expression is that of an accomplished smile.

"Scar, what-"

"You've been a thorn in my side for quite some time now, you know?" Scar leans forward. He looks at home on the throne. The way he sits on the diamonds is like they were made for him.

"If you had a problem you could've just talked to me." Etho keeps his voice calm but there's an edge even he can't get rid of. "I’m just goofing around, dude. I don't want to upset you." Scar shrugs and it's then that Etho notices the glow to his eyes, the same glistening blue as the throne.

"I'm talking right now, am I not?" Etho can't even get a twitch out of his fingers. His body feels numb. It’s as if he doesn’t quite fit into it.

"This is a pretty extreme way of talking." Etho's no fool, and the deep chuckle Scar lets out screams 'run'.

"Oh, Etho." Scar shakes his head, the laugh dying down. "Believe me, you're getting off lightly." Scar has a funny idea of lightly. Etho's sweating. Something in his memory helpfully supplies 'the jungle' and Etho thinks of Bdubs and- does he know about this? "For all the trouble you've caused me, your fraudulent ways, touching my throne-" His voice drops dangerously low, "-I should be doing a lot worse than this."

"Oh man, so what is this then?" Each word feels forced as he struggles through the sentence. He's gotta keep his cool. This shouldn't scare him.

"A warning," Scar answers, short and sweet. He rests against the back of the throne, perching his elbow on the arm. "The shopping district is mine to control and I'm not letting you get in the way of that. Your tricks are undermining my authority as the mayor. I refuse to let that happen any longer."

"Scar, you're going way too far, dude." Etho gets the feeling this stopped being for fun long ago. How has Xisuma not picked up on it?

"You know, it's funny-" Scar smiles, "-Wels said the same thing." If Etho could move, he’d be gone.

"What did you do to him?" Scar waves his hand dismissively.

"He's merely been subdued. I gave him a fancy new job, in fact! I'm not an unkind mayor, after all." Scar shrugs one shoulder. "And if I tell him he has to go after you, well. That would be between us, wouldn't it?"

"This is-" he drops off, not sure how to end the sentence. Insane, terrifying, way too far? He's got options!

"Great, I know!" Scar smiles at his own answer. Even that looks sinister, blue eyes outshining any joy. "I can finally bring things under my power, just how they should be."

"So you're controlling Wels, have strange magic abilities, and you're trying to take over the shopping district." Etho lists off, trying to catch himself up. "Anything else I'm missing?"

Scar hums, then shakes his head, "No, I think that's all you need to know." His head tilts. "I mean, not that you'll be remembering any of this, anyway." Etho's heart stops for a second time, lodging itself in his throat.

"What?"

"You think I’d just monologue my plans and then let you go?" Scar laughs, shaking his head like it's a bad joke. "Please, you're intelligent one second and completely contradict it the next." Etho isn't going to take that personally from the power-hungry guy sat on a throne of diamond. There are better people to be insulted by.

"Nice, so you have an ego too?"

The pain in Etho's chest is like nothing he's ever felt before. Against the unfeeling cold of his body, it burns, feels like a sword stabbed through his ribs. He doesn’t know how else to describe it. He chokes on his breath, coughing as he forces air back into his aching lungs.

"Maybe you should consider your own ego, first." There's not a hint of inflection in Scar's voice. Etho looks up at him with tears in his eyes. "I think I've said my piece."

"Woohoo." Etho bites down his pained cry. He was ready for that one.

"Go home and sleep, Etho. When you wake up, this will all have been a bad dream." Etho opens his mouth to protest, but the air presses down on him.

His vision falls into a blinding blue.

-

He sits up in bed with a start. He glances around his base, realising how hot the air feels against his skin. He's freezing, despite the sun shining through the room. Outside he can hear birds sing and the rustling of tall trees in the wind. He stands carefully, his legs barely feeling like they're there at all.

What was he doing last? Looking at his bed, he doesn’t remember coming back last night. He presses his eyes shut, pulling his mask down to breathe easier. He thinks he dreamed about the shopping district. He can't place what exactly. Only the fear that grips his heart at the thought, and a blue so bright it hurts his eyes. He has one hell of a headache forming. Maybe taking it easy is best for today. Until he's shaken off whatever this is.

He thinks he'll avoid the shopping district for a while.

[justanotherpersonsuniverse]

Paladin Rose (An Other Magic AU Substory written by CartoonAddict564 from the comment section)

Part 3 (Beginning of the End arc)

First things first, Juleka thought. She had to get Alya away from anyone who might suggest anything to her. She had to find out exactly what had been done to her. She had to find out how to fix it. And she had to see if it was possible to take the Ladyblog ad down.

So she carefully left Alya, who kept apologizing for 'being useless and stupid,' and went back to Bustier's class. "Um, Miss Bustier?" she said. "The Lavaillants asked Alya to help them write up some flyers to find Rose. Is it okay if she does that instead of coming back to homeroom? She's super worried..."

Bustier quickly nodded. "Of course. That's very kind of her."

Sometimes, Juleka thought, it was nice having a total pushover for a teacher. "Actually, she asked if maybe a few of us could help. Is that okay?"

"Well, if it's to help Rose I don't see why not--"

"Great. Alix, Chloe, Sabrina, let's go. Bye!" And Juleka ushered her friends out the door before leaving a somewhat surprised Bustier behind them.

----

"So she'll really do anything anyone says?" Alix asked. "Anything?"

"Far as I can tell," said Juleka, frowning at her phone. "Come on, Luka, pick up already!"

"Oooh." Chloe grinned. "This could be fun."

Alya beamed at her. "Yes?" she asked. "Do you have something I should be doing? I'd try to think of it myself, but I'm terrible and dumb. If you could tell me what to do, I'd be so grateful!"

"Ugh, she's worse than Sabrina," groaned Alix.

"Hey!" said the redhead. "I don't act like that."

Everyone stared at her.

Sabrina sighed. "Well, not as much anymore," she insisted. "I'm getting better. I--"

"Quiet." Juleka held up the phone. "Luka, finally. We have a problem, and--um, why are you wearing a helmet?"

Through the video feed of the phone, they could all see Luka looking embarrassed as he removed it. "Oh, uh, Rose said she could use a sparring partner, so I thought I'd help out." He paused. "She whooped me. Your girlfriend knows her way around a sword and lance, Juleka."

"It's why I love her," Juleka deadpanned. "Listen, the Lavaillats showed up and cast some kind of spell on Alya to make her ask Ladybug and Chat Noir to find Rose."

All the good humor fled his face. "Rose," he called. "Get over here. You'll want to hear this."

----

"...so that's what happened," Juleka finished.

Rose's normally adorable face (at least in Juleka's view) was red with anger. "But that's awful!" she insisted. "That spell is only for evil monsters and villains! It's supposed to help them recognize the harm they've done. You know, make them more humble so they stop being all 'I am so great I have the right to hurt people' and start being all, 'I'm no better than them; it's wrong to hurt them.'" She crossed her arms. "Using it on a civilian is messed up!"

"Aren't they worried someone might learn they're, you know, crazy magic paladins?" Alix asked.

"Doubt it." Luka shrugged. "Presumably the spell wears off at some point. Then all anyone thinks is that Alya had really low self-esteem today, probably including Alya herself. No one thinks magic was involved."

Rose nodded. "The spell lasts for about twelve hours. If the bad guy has some epiphany about, you know, not being a villain anymore, that can last longer. But the spell itself should be done by bedtime."

"So for today, Alya will do anything anyone asks." Chloe began to smile. "Well, obviously we need someone to stay by her to make sure no one asks her for anything bad. I volunteer."

"No," said everyone else at once, including Luka and Rose.

Chloe pretended to gasp. "What, do you not trust me?"

"I trust you!" said Alya. "You're better than me, anyways."

The others frowned, but then Chloe glared at them. "Listen. One of us can get out of school anytime she wants because of who her daddy is, and it happens to me. I'll tell Damocles that we have some urgent thing to do, and he'll give us passes so we can leave. Then I'll take her up to my room in daddy's hotel and, I don't know, lock her in a closet or something. Otherwise, she'll be stuck here all day, and then Kim will dare her to dive into the pool with her laptop or something dumb like that."

Nobody said anything.

"I'm not going to hurt her," stressed Chloe. "Seriously. Guys--"

"Alright," said Alix at last. "If you promise, I trust you."

Juleka gave Sabrina a very uneasy look, but Chloe was right; she was the only one who could get out of school, and even her power was probably limited to just herself and maybe one other person. "Fine," she said. "But seriously, Chloe. If we come by and find her in a maid costume scrubbing your bathroom, we're throwing you into your pool."

"Bleh." Chloe stuck out her tongue at them. "I'll be good. I promise."

"If that's taken care of," said Alix, "We need to get that blog post off the Ladybug."

Juleka shook her head. "Can't. Alya's the only one that knows the password, and anything to do with the blog is the one type of suggestion she won't take. That post is up there until the spell wears off and she gets rid of it herself."

"Hey," said Luka. "Here's a thought. Maybe that's not such a bad thing."

"What?!" yelled the rest of the team at once. Even Rose seemed shocked.

"No, wait, listen." Luka held up his hands. "We know the Lavaillants are going to do something to try to find Rose, right? Well, this is something we can control. Alya has Ladybug's number. Once this spell wears off she can contact her privately and explain that they shouldn't find Rose--instead they should stall. Lead the Lavailllants on for as long as possible, and then say, oh, we got a report that she was heading to Timbuktu or something." As long as Ladybug doesn't find Rose today--and since Rose is going to be staying under deck all day, that shouldn't be a problem--we're fine."

Juleka considered. "One issue. Suppose Ladybug doesn't just take Alya's word for it that Rose shouldn't be found? I mean we can't explain the real reason."

"Why not?" asked Sabrina. "They're already magical. They're literally the most likely people to believe 'Rose's parents are evil paladins and Rose had to run away to date her vampire girlfriend and stay with her vampire girlfriend's cute older brother' on Earth."

Juleka sighed. "Because--wait, you think my brother is cute?"

Sabrina made a soft 'eep!' sound. "Um, I just meant aesthetically."

"Hmm," mused Rose with a soft smile. She was still wearing her armor, except for her helmet, and it occurred once again to Juleka that Rose looked incredibly beautiful when wearing full chainmail and carrying a sword. "He's alright. But I prefer the vampire girlfriend, myself."

"...right." Juleka shook her head, though she couldn't hide a faint smile. "Anyways, the more people who know that things like vampires and werewolves exist, the higher the chance of Inquisition 2: this time the humans have guns." She shrugged. "Ladybug and Chat Noir wouldn't join the mob, but if we told them about us and it leaked somehow? We could be in trouble."

"Oh." Sabrina frowned. "Right."

"We'll just have to be persuasive, then" said Luka. "Or, you know. 'Persuasive.' Like I showed you."

Juleka frowned. She'd didn't like using her suggestion power, and really didn't like her odds of using it on a superhero. "That might... not work."

"Well, we'll think of something. And if I'm right, the Lavaillants will think things are progressing, so they won't look for her." Luka clapped his hands together. "Okay, that just leaves your classmates. How do we deal with them?"

"If it were just Kim and Max it'd be easy," grumbled Alix. "I could blast them with spells to make them confused. Well, moreso than usual."

"Or I could use Suggestion," added Juleka. "But Markov is a robot. I don't think magic works on him."

Then Sabrina stepped into the center of the group. "I'll handle them."

Chloe frowned. "What? Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous. Sabrina, we can all fight if we have to. We're predators, except for Alix, who's a badass magician." Alix blushed a little. "But you turn into a deer. What'll you do, eat grass at them?"

Sabrina frowned. "I'm serious, Chloe. I want to help."

"Why?" asked Alix. "I mean, we appreciate it, but I don't know if this is your thing. You're... nice. Easygoing. You let people do things. Standing up to Kim and Max... you sure you're up for it?"

"Yes." The redhead looked down. "You all saved me from being trapped in an alien world. And even before that, you were nice to me despite the... the things I did." She managed a glance at Chloe. "I've done nothing to repay you yet. I want to fix that."

"This isn't about paying a debt," insisted Juleka. "We're friends. We--"

"I'm not going to be a burden!" Sabrina took a breath. "You're my friends, and I want to help you! I... I just really want to help." She bowed her head. "Please let me do this."

They all looked at each other. But it was Rose who said, "Well, then I say go for it!"

"You realize if she messes up and Kim catches you, you're the one who's in trouble," said Alix. "We're clear on that, right?"

"If she says she can do it, I trust her," said Rose serenely.

Juleka hesitated. She had a very bad feeling about this. But...

But she understood wanting to be useful. Wanting not to burden one's friends. And she trusted them, both Sabrina and Rose. "Alright." She said. "Let us know if you need anything."

"I will!" enthused Sabrina. "I won't let you down!"

"Alright then." Luka nodded. "Chloe, take Alya to the hotel; Alix and Juleka, maybe start working out our argument to Ladybug; Sabrina, do your thing." He grinned. "Let's do this, guys."

——

"Hi-yah!"

Luka tumbled to the floor of the ship and looked at the beaming Rose. "Okay, okay, I concede. You're the better fighter." He accepted her hand to pull himself up. "How did you get so strong?"

"I am strengthened by my righteousness!" said Rose. "And also push-ups. Lots of push-ups. One more time?" Her tone turned wheedling. "You can use magic if you want."

Luka considered. "Alright," he said at last. "And--go!" He murmured something as Rose leapt at him--

And then Rose sailed up to the ceiling as Luka's floatation spell hit her. The sword fell from her hand, and without it her arms were just a little too short to reach his head. "Hey!" said Rose as Luka chuckled. "That was mean."

"I am strengthened by my magic," intoned Luka. "And also 'not being a midget.'" Rose stuck out her tongue at him, but was smiling and didn't seem annoyed. "Anyways, that should wear off in a few minutes. Want a snack while you're waiting?"

"Hmph." Rose wrinkled her nose. "No. As a paladin who has been defeated, I must reflect on my failure and pray to improve--wait, is that cherry licorice?" She looked at the box of candy Luka had taken out from one of the hold's cabinets. "I love that flavor!"

Luka laughed at that and lifted the box above his head so she could reach it. "Once you're down we'll check on Juleka. See how the gang's doing with Ladybug, Kim, and so on."

Rose frowned. "Do you think they're doing okay?"

"Oh, I'm sure they are."

----

No sooner had school let out than Juleka entered Le Grand Paris Hotel and made a beeline for the elevator so she could get to Chloe and Alya, but just before she entered she got a text. "Juleka," Chloe had written to her. "Sabrina left school early to start getting ready, so when you get here, go to the private kitchens and check on her to make sure she didn't set herself on fire or anything."

"Set herself on fire?" Juleka frowned. "What's she doing?" And so she ducked into the restaurant, slipped into the back area, and then went past the bustling main kitchens to reach the smaller ones which were reserved for private functions and special occasions. One of them had a 'Closed' sign on it even though there was light coming through the crack in the door, so Juleka pushed it open and went in.

Sabrina was working at one of the counters next to a rack of ovens. The burners held bubbling pots of food that looked and smelled great. Juleka's stomach rumbled and she wondered if maybe she could get a snack--but then she forced herself to focus. "Sabrina?" she asked.

"Eep!" Sabrina jumped and pointed a ladle at Juleka before realizing who it was. "Oh, it's you. Sorry." She took a breath. "How was school?"

"Sucky." Juleka frowned. "Um, are you sure you should be in the open like this? Your father's looking for you, and he's in the police, so--"

"I know it's a risk." Sabrina took a slow breath. "I know. But like I said earlier, I want to help. And..." She gestured at the food. "This is the only way I know how to help."

Juleka tilted her head as she understood. "Fey food," she murmured. "You're going to get Max and Kim to eat something which puts them under your control."

"Right."

"Do you know how to do that?" Juleka stepped closer and looked at the food. "I talked to Luka about that stuff one day--I was a little kid and I got it in my head that if I accidentally bought a snack from a store and it was a fey store somehow, the fey would be able to take me away forever--and he said it's tough."

"Well, I've been studying," said Sabrina primly. "You know how good I am at school. I'm sure I--"

At that moment, one of the pots erupted in a blast of stew, spattering Sabrina's face and covering her eyeglasses.

Juleka hid her giggle as Sabrina looked down. "I'm not useless," she said, as if trying to convince herself. "I'm not. I'm not--"

"Of course you're not," said Juleka. "I've needed help with my powers plenty of times too. And Chloe--she needs Alix to do all kinds of magic junk to her every month so she doesn't wolf out and eat somebody." She stepped to Sabrina's side. "I can call Luka. Maybe he can help walk you through this."

"Or," said a new voice from the door, "She could ask an expert."

Both Juleka and Sabrina wheeled around to see another Sabrina. But this one was different. Wilder, somehow. Her hair was tangled, her clothes were a bizarre mishmash of black goth gear and forest-green stuff that looked like it came from Ancient Rome, and her eyes were somehow unsettling. "You're the other me," Sabrina whispered. "The one the fey took."

"What do you want?" asked Juleka at once.

The human Sabrina smiled. "Maybe I just wanted to drop in on my sister," she said as she approached. "Give a little advice."

"Fey don't give things." Juleka growled. "You want to trap her in some kind of deal, and--"

The changeling Sabrina put a hand on Juleka's shoulder. "Wait," she said. "She didn't let my dad send me back to the fey. I don't think she's hostile." She took a breath and met her double's gaze. "I want to talk to her."

"Sabrina..." began Juleka.

"You seem stressed," said the human Sabrina. "Peckish, even. Want a snack?" She whipped what looked like a box of cookies out from... actually, Juleka had no idea where it had come from. "Freshly baked."

"Nice try." Juleka frowned at her, then looked around for something safe to eat in case the human Sabrina could somehow manipulate her appetites and make her hungry enough to eat the cookies. She settled on a box of nuts on a counter and began to snack on them as she said, "We're not dumb enough to take food from someone who lives with the fey."

The human Sabrina shrugged. "Many humans aren't. That's why we have other methods. Like, say leaving a few food items around ahead of time just in case." Her eyes flicked to the box of nuts.

Then the changeling Sabrina looked at the box too. "Uh, Juleka? I didn't put those there."

Juleka's eyes widened and she tried to spit out the nuts, but the human Sabrina snapped her fingers and Juleka's body froze. "In exchange for those nuts," she said in a light voice, "You're to leave this kitchen and not return until after I'm done talking with my sister." She grinned as Juleka's body began to move of its own accord. "Bye!"

As soon as Juleka's traitorous legs took her out of the kitchen and stopped, Juleka cursed, then raced towards the nearest ceiling vent. No sooner had she gotten there and verified the coast was clear than she pried the vent off, shifted into her bat form, and flew through it. When she found a vent leading into the kitchen, she placed a talon on the vent's exit grate and found it completely unmovable. Her body would not let her open up the passage back inside. But she could stay there, technically 'outside' the kitchen and watch the conversation.

"Why do you want to help me?" asked the changeling Sabrina quietly.

The human redhead shrugged. "We're sisters," she said. "And you interest me."

"Why?"

"During that fight on the hill, even though you were drugged, you tried to help your friends," the human said. "You could have tried to run away. Or just hidden. But you tried to save them--even though you were the one in danger." She hesitated. "It's... not a very fey thing to do. I was intrigued."

The changeling smiled slightly. "Thanks. And, um, thanks for not letting my dad send me back."

"No problem." The human Sabrina clapped her counterpart on the shoulder. "So. This fey food."

"Is it good?" the changeling asked.

The human stuck a finger inside one of the pots and sucked it. "Magic's all wrong," she said. "This is basically synthetic hemlock. Sorry."

Sabrina blanched and looked down, but her counterpart was at her side. "Fortunately, I can show you how to do it right," she said.

That made the changeling brighten, but then she paused. "In exchange for what?"

The human Sabrina grinned, as if the changeling had passed a test. "Get me set up with this 'Internet' thing the mortals use," she said. "It sounds cool. I want to see what the fuss is."

The changeling quickly nodded. "You got it. Once I'm done with this food, I'll get you a phone and an account." She extended her hand and the other Sabrina shook it.

"Alright then. I think we'll be fine." The human Sabrina sent a meaningful look up at Juleka's vent. "Totally fine," she stressed.

Juleka flushed; apparently she hadn't been as sneaky as she thought. And it did seem like the changeling Sabrina was in good hands. She quickly fluttered back down the shaft.

----

When Juleka reached Chloe's suite and entered it, she sighed. "Chloe. We talked about this."

"What?" Chloe was reclining in bed while Alya braided her hair and did her nails. "You said no scrubbing the bathroom. She's not!"

Juleka frowned.

"Besides, I did her hair and nails too, so she owes me." Chloe gestured at Alya, whose hair and nails did seem fancier.

"You realize when the spell wears off you're going to have an angry fox on your hands?"

Chloe waved a hand. "That's not for a few hours. I'll send her away, give her time to see that I just gave her practice in making people prettier. She'll be fine."

Juleka frowned. There was an odd glint in Alya's eyes. A mixture of annoyance... and anticipation. "And supposing my brother got the time wrong and the spell actually wore off two minutes ago?"

Chloe blinked. "Huh?"

And then Alya dumped all the hair dye bottles onto Chloe's head at once.

"ALYAAAAA!"

——

"Kim! Max! Thanks for coming!" Sabrina clasped her hands together and welcomed the two boys into the deserted little park. She'd sent them a text asking them to meet her there at dinner for 'something urgent,' and fortunately, both had showed up, along with Markov. "It's good to see you!"

"You too, Sabrina," said Max politely. "We noticed you left school early today. Is anything wrong?"

Sabrina waved this off. "Don't worry about it."

"How long will this take?" Kim asked. "Cause I don't know if you heard, but Rose's folks put a $3000 bounty on her, and we're gonna collect!"

"Not long," Sabrina promised. She had a picnic basket and began to take out what looked like small sandwiches. "Come on, I brought snacks so we can eat while we talk! Here, these are the appetizers--please, enjoy!"

Juleka, who had asked Luka to cast a glamour over her so she would look as different from herself as possible (it wound up making her look like a peppy cheerleader), was sitting nearby and paying close attention. She smiled as Kim's expression changed to one of glee. "Awesome, free food, thanks!"

Sabrina smiled brightly as Max and Kim each ate one of the sandwiches. "Man, this is really good," Kim said at last. "Did you do something special to make this?"

"N--" began Sabrina, before her mouth seemed to freeze. "N--N--"

Juleka stiffened. "What's going on?"

"Ooh, rookie move."

Juleka jumped and turned to see the human Sabrina, who had someone slipped up next to her without her noticing. "Hey Fangsy," she said. "What're we watching?"

Juleka scowled. "Sabrina's trying to talk to those guys but her mouth stopped working or something--"

"Well, duh." The human shrugged. "She's probably tried to lie. But she's a fey, and fey can't lie. So she couldn't say it."

"But she's lied before!" Juleka insisted. "Loads of times! Mostly for Chloe!"

"Yeah, but she was trying to live like a human then. Most of her magic was dormant. Now she's actively using her magic and calling on her fey nature. So that nature's reasserting herself." Human Sabrina shrugged. "No lies for her."

Juleka scowled, then quickly texted Sabrina, "YOU CAN'T LIE." Sabrina glanced at the text, blanched, then seemed to make herself swallow and say, "Yes. Now--"

"What'd you do?" asked Max. "Seriously, this is really good."

"I..." Juleka could see that Sabrina was thinking fast. "...had an expert teach me a few tricks."

"She local?" asked Kim.

"No. From out of town. Way, way out." Sabrina fixed a big smile on her face. "Anyways! I hope you enjoyed that?" Both boys nodded. "Good. And, um, in exchange I was hoping for just a little favor?"

Kim gulped down his second sandwich. "What is it?" he asked.

"Well, I had this proposal for you, and I'd like you to listen to it and--uh--agree with me?" She flashed a disarming smile, one that usually accompanied a statement being made in a tentative or hopeful manner, one that could be accepted or rejected later. But there was nothing ambiguous in the words themselves, and Juleka knew that with fey, the words were all that counted. The boys were bound to listen to and agree with whatever Sabrina proposed.

"Ooh, smart," mused the human Sabrina. "Nice play."

"Why?" Juleka asked.

The redhead looked at her. "If she just ordered them to 'not look for Rose,' they'd do it--their bodies wouldn't let them go walking around hunting for her--but they'd notice how weird that was. So first she ordered them to 'agree' with whatever she says next. Now she'll offer them another round of food and tell them not to find Rose. They won't look for her--that's from the second dish--but more than that, they'll agree that they shouldn't look for her--from the first one."

Juleka considered. "Why don't all fey do it that way, then? Instead of just ordering people to do X, order them to think they should do X?"

"Well, it's easier to screw up and drive people totally insane the way she's doing it. She has to make sure she asks for something reasonable enough that their minds accept it; if she asks for something crazy, they'll do it and think that they should do it but still know it's insane, so then they go bonkers from the contradiction. Giving orders without demanding agreement doesn't hurt human brains as much if things go wrong." She grinned. "This is fun! Popcorn?" She offered Juleka a bag.

Juleka found herself reaching to take a handful before she caught herself and scowled. "Do you do anything besides offer people food to get them to do things?"

"Why? That's the best part of being fey-like!"

Meanwhile, Sabrina had taken out little platters of steaks with a compound butter on top. "Oh wow," said Kim as he gobbled it down. "Seriously, when we graduate and you become Chloe's live-in servant full time, she's gonna eat like a queen."

Juleka thought she saw a vein twitch in Sabrina's forehead. "Anyway," the changeling said. "Here's my proposal." And from her basket she took out a map of Paris. "You said you were also looking for Rose, right? I propose we should split up the city to be more effective. Specifically--in exchange for this sumptuoussteak," She paused so they all could laugh, again letting her tone and demeanor make the 'bargain' sound more informal than it was--"You guys pick this area." She gestured at a large section of the map mostly comprising the outer districts and suburbs of Paris; by area it was more than 70% of the city. "I'll take this one," she said, gesturing at an inner area which just happened to include Rose's actual location.

"Why that one?" asked Markov in a protective voice. "And why should we look in this outer area?"

"Well, honestly, I think Rose is--" Sabrina's mouth froze again and her eyes bulged slightly as she tried to reword whatever she was about to say to be, technically, not a lie. "There are reasons why Rose could choose to go to these suburban areas," she said at last. "Less security cameras, fewer people who know her personally. You looking there could be logical."

"Then why are you giving it to us?" pressed Markov.

Sabrina made a melodramatic sigh. "My father won't take me to wander around the outskirts of town right now," she said, and Juleka knew that was true, though not for the reasons she was implying. "Also, I know this inner part of the city best. If she's there, I'm sure I can find her. Whereas if I looked somewhere else, I surely wouldn't find her no matter what."

All true, Juleka thought. Rose was in the central part of the city, and Sabrina could find her--but she hadn't said she'd tell anyone she'd found her. And if Sabrina looked somewhere else she would never find Rose, since regardless of Rose's exact position, she wouldn't be in the 'somewhere else.'

The human Sabrina grinned. "She's a sharp one. I like her."

Meanwhile, the two boys looked at each other. "I agree," said Kim, and Juleka was relieved to hear he didn't seem to be mentally struggling with it. "Splitting up makes sense, and I'd rather have the bigger section anyways. We'll look there and not on your turf."

"Agreed!" said Max.

Markov hesitated, but said, "I suppose that makes sense. I'll recalculate my probabilities, focusing on that area."

"Excellent!" Sabrina grinned. "I'm so glad we could work this out. And now..." She hefted her picnic basket. "Desert?"

----

"So now, what, they just owe you a favor?" asked Juleka.

"Yep!" Sabrina beamed, then looked at her duplicate. "Thanks again for your help."

"Hey, you already paid me back," said the human Sabrina lightly. "No worries."

Juleka chuckled as she looked at the remaining food. "I can't believe they just ate it."

"Why? It's delicious!" The changeling Sabrina gave a sly glance to the human one, and Juleka had the brief feeling of being set up for a prank. "Want some?"

"Um, no," said Juleka. "I--"

The changeling Sabrina gasped. "Juleka, are you saying you think I'll order you to do something horrible?" She melodramatically flopped against her duplicate's arms. "I thought you trusted me!"

"I just don't--"

"Oh!" Sabrina's eyes quivered like she was about to cry, though her smile belied this. "I knew you wouldn't trust me. Nobody trusts fey."

Juleka stared. "Are you... are you trying to guilt me into eating your fey food?"

"Who, her?" simpered the human Sabrina. "She's just sad you don't trust her."

"My heart is shattered," intoned Sabrina. "My soul is rent! My--"

"Fine!" snapped Juleka, grabbing one of the desert toffees. She glared at it and sighed. Well, how bad could it be? And she popped it in her mouth.

Both Sabrinas grinned.

---

Alya and Chloe were still in the suite when Juleka came in, now wearing a cheerleader outfit for real. "Let's have some pep!" She chirped as she began a complicated series of gymnastics she probably couldn't have done normally. "For the mystery gang! Like, yay!"

Behind her the Sabrinas came in. The changeling one was recording the performance on her phone and sending it to the boat, where Luka, Rose, and Alix were watching. They all stared as the goth vampire bounced around like a hyperactive school mascot.

Finally, Juleka finished her performance with a set of splits. "Hooray for us! We're awesome!" And it was only then that she came back to herself, picked herself up, and glared at the Sabrinas.

"So!" chirped Sabrina as everyone else, including Rose and Luka, burst into laughter. "As you can see, I learned how to make fey food!"

——

"...so Max, Markov and Kim shouldn't be a problem anymore," Juleka was saying. "Sabrina did great."

The redhead blushed as everyone else clapped. They were gathered in Alix's living room, with Rose and Luka having used one of Alix's charms to teleport directly there. "The rest of the class shouldn't be a problem," Juleka went on. "I'lll ask around tomorrow to see if anyone else will try for the reward. If so, Sabrina's got some emergency baked goods."

Sabrina waggled a basket full of fey pastries, a bright smile on her face.

"Great," said Luka, making a note. "That's one problem down. What about Sabrina and her dad? How do we stop Roger from having police look for her?"

"He hasn't done that yet," mused Alix, sitting next to an armchair. "I mean, nobody stopped Sabrina at school. Don't know why, though."

"Because he doesn't want her," drawled Chloe. She was in the armchair Alix was next to. "He's ridiculous, utterly ridiculous, and wants the other Sabrina. He only needed our Sabrina to get the other one back to our world, and now that other Sabrina's in town, he has no use for his own daughter." She sniffed. "What an idiot. If I had someone like Sabrina I'd respect her."

"Uh," said Alya. "About that." But Sabrina waved her off.

Luka looked around. "Where is other Sabrina anyways?"

"She left after I had my cheerleading debut," muttered Juleka. "Said she'd be around."

Luka smiled at the thought of the video, which he of course had saved so he could tease Juleka in the future. "Well, we need to ask her if she'll hang around town for a while, maybe show her face here or there. If Roger thinks she's still here and gettable without some kind of fairy trade, he has no reason to go looking for our Sabrina. I wouldn't say she should go home, but she should be able to go to school and stuff without problems." He made a note. "Next: you, little sis."

Juleka blinked. "Me?"

"Uh, yeah." Chloe rolled her eyes. "The Lavillants got a good look at you, remember?"

"Oh, right." Juleka sighed. "Here's the problem: if I go back to school, yeah, they might see me there. But if I drop out, though, they'll see me on the news reports about 'two girls missing from same class' and recognize me anyways." She sighed. "I think our best hope is for me to stay at school, maybe change my appearance a little, and hope they don't notice."

"Well, I've got more cheerleading stuff for you!" said Alya brightly. "You know, to disguise yourself."

Juleka glowered, but then Rose hugged her. "I think you make a beautiful cheerleader," she whispered. "I mean, you're a beautiful everything. But that includes cheerleader."

A slight blush reddened Juleka's cheeks. "Uh," she said. "You too, Rose."

Meanwhile, Luka was going down his list. "With all those of the way, the next issue is Ladybug and Chat Noir." He turned to Alya. "Did they get back to you?"

Alya hesitated. "Yeah, but it's not great news."

"What is it?" asked Juleka.

Alya sighed. "I told her that there were some, um, problems at the Lavaillant home--don't worry, I didn't talk about paladins or anything--and Ladybug said she could understand that, but she couldn't just take it on faith." She took a breath. "She'll only believe it if you meet with her and convince her, Rose."

Rose frowned. "So I just need to talk to Ladybug and explain why I can't go home? That doesn't sound so bad."

"Explain without sounding crazy," Alix drawled. "If you say that you ran away to live with your vampire girlfriend because your paladin parents tried to deport your fairy friend back to fairyland and then tried to kill everyone who got in their way, they'll send you to the loony bin. You'll need to make up a fake reason and get her to believe it."

"And," Alya went on, "If you try to explain and don't convince her... I mean, she's Ladybug. She could just scoop you up and run you home."

Rose smiled slightly. "Maybe I could beat her."

"No." Luka's voice was flat. "The Miraculouses are some of the most powerful magic there is. She could fight all of us at once and win." He sighed. "There's just two choices. You can keep hiding in the boat, and hope she never finds you. Or you can meet with her and try to persuade her to stop looking, but if you fail, she takes you home right away."

The room fell silent, and Juleka clenched a fist. It wasn't fair! They weren't Hawkmoth, they just didn't want to be killed by psychotic paladins!

"I'll talk to her," said Rose at last.

"But--" Luka began.

"No. I trust Ladybug and Chat Noir. They're heroes. They'll understand me. They'll do the right thing." Rose stood. "Set up the meeting, Alya."

"Then I'm coming too," Juleka announced.

Luka snapped his head around to stare at her. "What? Why? Jules, you can't do anything. If it's a fight she'll destroy--"

"I'm going to be there," said Juleka in a flat voice. "If Ladybug tries to take Rose, there's a chance--however tiny--that I can stop her or stall her until Rose flees. I don't care if her Lucky Charm is a garlic-coated stake. I'm there." Her voice was like iron. "Clear?"

And that was that.

----

Ladybug and Chat Noir appeared in the abandoned building right on cue. Juleka, hiding up in the rafters and tensed to drop down on Chat Noir if needed, desperately tried to make no noise as the heroes approached Rose.

"You must be Rose. Take this," Ladybug said, giving Rose a green potion. "This is a truth serum. Once you drink it, you won't be able to lie for an hour."

"Courtesy of Master Fu--ow!" Chat Noir winced as Ladybug elbowed him. "Right, right, secret IDs, got it."

Rose drank it at once. "Thank you," she said quietly, "For hearing me out."

"Of course." Ladybug's voice was stern, tense, impersonal. Juleka wondered if Ladybug was nervous at this unusual task. "I'll get right to it. Are you safe where you'r staying right now?"

"Yes," said Rose at once. "Totally."

"Why can't you go home?"

Rose hesitated. "I can't say."

"Then--"

"Wait!" Rose insisted. "If your parents were going to move you away from Paris, you'd have to find some way to talk them out of it so you could keep protecting the city--but you couldn't tell them the real reason, right? You can't reveal your secret identity. You'd have to make something up. I'm in a similar situation."

Chat Noir hesitated. "She, uh, has a point."

"No." Ladybug shook her head. "I couldn't say that I'm Ladybug, but I could say that I help the city in ways nobody else can. I could say people count on me for protection. And so on." She hesitated. "I need an answer, Rose. What's wrong?"

Rose hesitated. "My parents believe my friends are evil," she said at last. "I tried to stop them from... hurting... two friends. They think I'm evil too because of that." She took a breath. "If I go home, they will try to 'fix' me."

Ladybug's mouth dropped. Chat Noir asked, "Are we sure the truth potion works? That story--"

"It works, Chat," murmured Ladybug. Then: "Are you saying they're abusive?"

"I don't know if that's the right word." Rose looked down. "But I won't be safe going home, Ladybug. Please believe me."

"My God." Ladybug stepped back as if slapped. "Then we'll get the police--"

Rose quickly shook her head. "There's no proof," she said. "They'd probably send me home themselves. And..."

Juleka frowned. There were two more reasons not to involve the police: Lieutenant Roger was likely on the Lavillants' side because of his changeling daughter, and also having police try to arrest paladins could be disastrous. Worst case, that could reveal magic to the world. But Rose couldn't say either of those reasons. So what other true reason was there?

"...and I don't want them in jail. Or beaten up by superheroes. I just want them to stop thinking my friends are evil, and that I'm evil for supporting those friends." Rose took a shuddery breath. "Maybe if I'm away for a while, they'll miss me more than they hate my friends. And they'll get better."

Juleka winced. That was pure Rose--concerned with the welfare of even those that had betrayed her. She wished she could hop down and hug her.

Ladybug and Chat Noir stepped away and deliberated. Finally, Ladybug came back. "Okay," she said at last. "We won't tell them where you are, and we won't tell the police... yet. But we'll keep an eye out. It's possible they're hurting other people, and if so, we'll have to intervene."

"I understand." Rose bowed her head. "Thank you so much."

Ladybug gave Rose her number. "Call me anytime you need me," she said. "And good luck." And then she was swinging away.

Juleka dropped from the rafters moments later and embraced Rose. The blonde sniffled and then hugged her. And they stood together for what felt like an endless moment.

----

"Think we should have mentioned Ju--uh, that girl in the rafters?" asked Chat Noir as he sprang away.

"No." Ladybug frowned. "I wonder how Rose's friend got up there."

"Well, apparently she didn't count on my night-vision. Can't really blame her; it's not like she could have any experience with magic." Chat Noir hesitated. "What do you want to do?"

Ladybug sighed. "I'm not comfortable going against Rose's wishes and turning her in. Or her parents... assuming she's the only one they hurt. But I'm going to stay in close contact with Rose, and look in on the Lavillants as well. If anything else is wrong, we act."

"Got it," said Chat Noir, and the two headed off into the distance.