#but before I start sewing I wanted to be sure that any shrinking had happened

[sheliesshattered]

as it turns out I don’t think I’m physically suited to be a laundress

[sonicasura]

Alright then.

So remember how I've mentioned that Kafka got de-sized in early summer? And how the first month or two was very stressful for everyone?

Well, the fear that stress might actually turn Kafka smaller or trigger something worse was not unfounded. Thanks to all the tests and what not, including those pesky scientists that can't keep their hands of our himbo, Kafka started to slowly shrink more. Becoming small enough he could easily walk through a small sewing needle's hole.

It was also not helped that he also started to go into early shedding, thanks to said stress and starting to pretty much feel depressed thanks to various factors. Though the main ones was pretty much that he felt he was lossing himself and lack of both normalcy and privacy.

This of course caused quite the bit alarm with everyone, especially Kafka's friends. And caused Mina and everyone to finally put their hands and feet down hard, stopping anymore tests and what nots to try and give Kafka a much needed break.

As well as get Kafka away from the scientists for as long as possible.

Thats when one of the rookies came up with a idea, a beach trip to unwind and get away from it all. Specifically, a two weeks trip to a private beach that Kikoru's family owned as it would allow them some much needed privacy. I wanted to give this role to Izumo at first, but giving what little we know of his current status with his family I gave up pretty darn quick.

Instead, he helps by acquiring a special box that so that Kafka could go with them without issue, given that they needed to fly to get to the beach. Without it getting Kafka there would have been difficult if not outright dangerous thanks becoming even smaller than before.

Meanwhile, Mina and Soshiro gets premission from Keiji as even he finds it appalling with how the whole situation. And is more than happy to give them those two weeks without issue. Granted, they had to take with them a certain woman on said trip.

Meet one of my OCs, Reina Maki. A woman in her early 40s and a woman of science and one of the few who actually can see Kafka as a person among scientists. She's good friends with Okonogi despite being in different departments, which gives her more credibility with everyone else when Okonogi sees her comming along for the trip and is quite happy to see the older woman.

Reina main purpose is to just be someone who will report back to HQ on how things are going, as well as give any medical help incase something bad happens on the trip as she also has gone to medical school before switching over to science. She is also responsible for monitoring Kafka health given the current circumstances.

Everyone finds her to be a someone they can trust, as it become clear she has nothing but the best in mind and makes sure to not overstep herself. Which helps Kafka's stress greatly when she has to do a daily check up with the himbo each morning and before bed.

Stress honestly would be awful for Kafka in general. Animals often lose fur/feathers/scales from being overstressed so Kaiju wouldn't be so different. Not even including Kafka shrinking to that small of a size.

Hopefully he grows back to the previous size after relaxing. And get something to help treat his shedding skin.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Mute

Prompt: I absolutely adore your writing! Could I ask for a request too, please? I was thinking of a back-and-forth between Janus and Logan, just lies after truths after lies, until one snaps and accidentally causes the other to lose the ability to speak? Since they can both technically change the reality around them. Either the recipient becomes forcibly mute or the very angsty "sowed up mouth" method. Whoever caused the other to lose their speech freaks out and tries their best to fix their mess while apologising. Either a platonic or romantic ending -whichever you decide- but with at least a happy ending please? - willowaudreykeyes

Thanks for the prompts, babe!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: sympathetic janus, logan gets his mouth sewn shut but it's okay we fix it

Pairings: can be platonic or romantic I don't care, but we hit logince, rociet, lociet

Word Count: 2922

He doesn’t even remember how it started.

Or, an argument between Logan and Janus spirals dangerously out of hand, and powers in the Mindscape are sometimes more curses than blessings.

It hadn’t been something Thomas knew about, it hadn’t been a group discussion—he doesn’t think the others know where they are. Virgil is probably in his room, Roman is working in the Imagination, Patton is baking with Remus.

He doesn’t remember how it started.

He does know how they got here.

“I fail to see what use this is,” Logan had grumbled, standing up from the library table, “I will be better off figuring this out myself.”

“Oh, yes, of course, because that’s always gone so well for you in the past.”

Logan’s eyes had flashed with anger he still denies he has. “I fail to see what gives you the opinion that you have any right to complain.”

“Because I’m certainly the one saying that I’ve done all my best work alone.”

Janus had smirked cruelly as Logan shoved his glasses back up his nose and pointed a finger at him. “Your track record, may I remind you, has certainly shown that.”

Janus had thrown his head back and cackled, filled with mirth that sat like rot in the pit of his stomach. “And yet I managed to do so much more in the few times I appeared than you.”

“Oh, like that’s the same thing.”

He had held his hand to his mouth in a mock gasp. “Why, Logan, surely you can’t be insinuating that you think the others are incompetent. How hurtful, what on earth would they say?”

“I did not say that.”

“But you meant it, didn’t you?” Janus had morphed his expression into a mock pout. “They’re all so slow, so irrational, all they do is get in the way, they’re so irritating.”

“You’re attempting to convince me that I said something I did not,” Logan had said firmly, “it will not work. The meaning of my remark, as you are aware, was that you, as your role in the videos, have an easier time disrupting the flow of conversation that I do as a member of the main cast.”

Logan had ignored—or perhaps not noticed—the subtle tightening of Janus’s fist. He had simply sniffed and looked down his nose.

“And even then, it’s a surprise you haven’t been more capable.”

Janus had bared his teeth. “Yes, because obviously, you could’ve done better.”

“Oh, please.” Logan had tucked his notebook into the crook of his arm. “Can you name one of your haphazard schemes that actually worked?”

Janus had gritted his teeth as Logan opened the notebook and began to read down the list.

“Your attempt to get Thomas to lie to Joan failed when Roman started to believe that lying was wrong as well, leading to Thomas discovering your true identity.”

“By all means,” Janus had growled, “keep going.”

“Most notably, your attempt to get Thomas to go to the callback backfired quite spectacularly—something that wouldn’t have happened in quite the same fashion had you actually let me participate—“

“Keep talking, Logan,” he’d said again, inching closer to the nerd, “that’s a wonderful idea.”

“—and of course, led to what is the most disruptive event in recent memory,” Logan had continued, undaunted, “the wedding.”

Janus hadn’t even bothered with words this time, reaching for the notebook with a growl. Logan had tucked it away before he could reach it.

“Tell me,” he had said, “was it worth it? Knowing how much it cost us?”

“Surely,” Janus had growled back, “then you know it’s not because you didn’t do your job well enough.”

Logan had stiffened. “What are you talking about?”

“Well surely you haven’t realized that the reason I was able to make it into that video in the first place,” Janus had said smoothly, sliding back into the ‘villain’ persona Logan has so graciously cast him in, “was that you were so painfully easy to replace.”

“Falsehood,” Logan had said lowly.

Janus had raised his hand again. “Oh, so you did notice. Splendid. Then you know that when it comes to pushing blame around the Mindscape—“

He had leaned closer.

“—you’re where we should be looking too.”

“I am—“

“Easy to overlook,” Janus had sung, prowling around Logan in a circle, “easy to silence. And surely there’s no correlation between when you attempt to override the others and when Thomas gets hurt. You want to talk about my failures? Then let’s not forget getting the others trapped in Patton’s room, shall we?”

Logan’s fists had tightened. “That’s not—“

“After all,” Janus had continued, speaking over him to illustrate his point, “if I’m to blame for knocking all the dominos down, you certainly didn’t give me a hand setting them up.”

“As if that in any way equivocates to what you did,” Logan had spat, the emotionless facade finally giving way as he whirled of Janus, “I did not use, manipulate, and lie to get the others to do what I want.”

“Oh, of course you didn’t.”

“And if I did, my lies would be nowhere near as comically obvious.”

“Ah, yes, of course you’re never comical.” Janus had tapped Logan’s flushed cheek. “The possibilities of you being a joke have always been…infinitesimal.”

Logan had bared his teeth as Janus chuckled. “At least my concept of a joke never hurt anyone.”

Logan’s mouth had tugged up cruelly too.

“Setting Remus loose on Thomas when you knew he was already upset, pushing the others to follow on whatever path you decided was best. And let’s not even start on what you did to Roman.”

Janus had flinched.

“Have you ever apologized?” Logan had shaken his head. “For everything that you’ve done to hurt him?”

“Have you?”

The room had dropped several degrees.

Janus had dropped the villain persona, staring directly at Logan.

“You want to talk about hurting the others, hurting Roman,” he had said lowly, “what do you think it is that you do?”

Logan had opened his mouth to speak but Janus had raised a finger.

“No. Do you know how much you’ve hurt him? Over how many years you’ve made him ashamed of who he is?” He had shaken his head. “I know I’ve hurt him. But you don’t seem to recognize it.”

He had looked Logan up and down, mouth curled in disgust.

“Maybe I’m not good enough at my job for your liking, but I sure was good at yours.” He had raised an eyebrow. “Maybe they wanted you silenced permanently. They did press the ‘skip’ button, after all.”

He had looked for the shadow of the bruise on Logan’s neck.

“And it was so easy to replace you. To silence you properly.”

He had turned away, not bothering to look at Logan’s face.

“Maybe I should do them a favor and keep you quiet.”

There had been a strangled gasp behind him.

“Oh, what,” Janus had drawled, turning around, “did you finally realize you don’t have a smart comeback for…”

The room had frozen.

…so that’s how they got here.

Janus, standing a few paces from Logan, turning back to face him, the sharp quip dying on the edge of his lips as his mouth drops open in horror, staring back.

Logan, his eyes wide, shining with unshed tears, glasses blurred and obscured by the bright light shining from the golden stitches that sew his mouth shut.

Logan raises trembling hands to his mouth, feeling the stitches, tears rolling down his face. His fingers disappear into the bright golden light as he fumbles with his mouth, until he realizes that he can’t.

The strangled scream lingers in Janus’s head long after Logan shrinks into a crouch on the floor.

No.

No.

No, no, no, no—no, not Logan. Not Logan.

“Oh, god—“ Logan’s hands keep pressing fruitlessly against his mouth— “no, oh, god, Logan—“

He runs back, ready to crouch and pry Logan’s hands away before he hurts himself, chest splitting open from the ache of hurting the poor thing like this.

He doesn’t think it could hurt more.

Like so many other times today, he’s wrong.

The instant Logan catches a glimpse of him moving toward him, he shoves himself away, scrambling backward until his back hits the wall. Eyes wide, breathing as heavily as he can through the stitches, utterly terrified.

As he has every right to be.

“No, no, Logan,” he murmurs frantically, “no, it’s okay, I’m not trying to hurt you—“

Does it matter that you’re not trying? You certainly were earlier.

“—I promise, Logan, please, I’m—I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

Through the pants, the sobs, the shakiness of his chest, Logan huffs, disbelieving.

“I didn’t, Logan, I promise.” Janus drops to his knees in front of the crying man. “I—we went too far. I’m sorry, I didn’t know this would happen, I didn’t mean to, please—“

The poor thing presses himself further against the wall. Janus swallows, feeling guilt press hot and heavy against the underside of his tongue. He reaches out, trying desperately to show him that he’s sorry, he didn’t mean to, he doesn’t actually believe anything he just said, he’s nothing but a liar, a horrible liar, please—

“I didn’t mean it, Logan, I promise, you’re—you’re not replaceable, I don’t want you silenced, the others don’t hate you, they don’t want you gone, I’m sorry—“

Slowly, too slowly, and not slowly enough, Logan’s breathing begins to settle. His eyes lose that awful whiteness and he slumps a little against the wall. His cheeks are damp, his glasses knocked askew, but he stares at Janus and slowly, slowly, nods.

“L-Logan?”

Another nod, a little less hesitant.

Janus’s shoulders slump. “Oh, Logan, why does it always end up with you being the better person?”

A tiny quirk of the eyebrow, nowhere near Logan’s typical sass levels, but it’s enough. It’s enough. Enough to make a weak smile come to Janus’s face.

“Can I come over, please? Can I come help?”

Logan nods, still wary as Janus shuffles across the floor. Before he makes it all the way there, he tugs off his gloves and stuffs them in his pocket.

“There,” he says quietly, wiggling his fingers to get used to it, “don’t want the fibers getting caught on anything.”

Logan’s wide-eyed stare tells him he knows why Janus really took the gloves off. Something Janus confirms a moment later.

“And I want you to know that I mean it.” He reaches forward. “Can I touch?”

Logan still flinches when Janus runs his thumb carefully over the cruel stitches sewing Logan’s mouth shut. He winces as he takes in how taut the thread is, how many stitches there are.

“Oh, Logan, I’m so sorry,” he mumbles, “does it hurt very badly?”

Another miserable nod.

Then it clicks.

Logan.

The one who submits least to the Imagination. The one who tethers himself tightly to the fact that they are metaphysical, they are subjective, they need not subject themselves to real-world consequences of whatever nonsense the other Sides pull.

Logan still has the stitches.

It threatens to break Janus’s heart all over again.

“Oh, sweetie,” he murmurs, cupping Logan’s face and slipping his glasses to the top of his head, “I’ve hurt you more than this, haven’t I?”

For indeed, if Logan is too upset to remember how to pull himself out of turns of phrase, then the poor thing is distraught.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” he murmurs, gently wiping away Logan’s tears, “it’s okay, sweetie, I’m not going to hurt you, it’s over, I’m not angry, I’m going to take care of you.”

And oh, the way Logan pushes shyly into his hands feels warm.

“Does this help, sweetie, is this alright?” At Logan’s nod, he moves, tucking Logan’s legs across his lap with his other hands. “Come here, yes—that’s it, shh, I’ve got you, you just focus on me.”

Logan’s eyes fall closed and a muffled whimper comes from his throat.

“I’ve got you, sweetie, I’m right here,” Janus murmurs, still cupping the poor thing’s head as it leans into him, “shh, shh, let’s get you a little calmer before we have a look, okay?”

Logan gives a huff of ‘what do you think I’m trying to do?’

“I know you know that, sweetie,” he chuckles, lifting Logan’s head to gently knock their foreheads together, “you’re clever. Our resident brain cell.”

He wraps one hand around the back of his neck.

“It’s just like what you taught us, remember? Object impermanence. This won’t last forever. I’m right here. You were so brave, you are so brave, so wonderful, so sweet…just give yourself time, sweetie, it’s okay.”

Logan relaxes a little in his hold as he keeps talking quietly. The poor thing gets over his hesitation and buries his face shamelessly in the crook of Janus’s neck.

“Shh, shh, that’s it, sweetie, easy now—“ Janus cradles him as he sets his glasses out of the way— “I’ve got you. I’m right here, sweetie, I’ve got you. It’s almost over, now, you can do it, shh.”

Another muffled noise from Logan.

“You’re not easily replaceable,” Janus says firmly, “you’re not unwanted. You’re not a joke, the others know how much you care about them, how much you help them, how important they are to you, how important you are to them.”

He tilts his head to press a kiss to Logan’s temple.

“How important you are to me.”

The golden light dims, sputters, and vanishes.

“…sweetie?”

Logan pulls back, carefully rubbing his fingers over his stitch-free mouth. He opens and closes a few times.

“Ouch.”

“Are you alright, sweet? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

“I know,” Logan says quietly, “I’m sorry too. That…escalated very quickly. I did not mean the things I said either.”

He squints.

“Oh, here—“ Janus passes him his glasses.

“Thank you. But that’s not why I—what were we arguing about, to begin with?”

Janus huffs a laugh. “I had been meaning to ask you that question.”

“Well, whatever it is, it must not have been very important.”

There’s a moment of silence.

“I’m sorry too,” Logan repeats after that pause, “you are not just a villain, you are not incompetent, and you…you are not to blame for everything that has gone wrong.”

Janus chucks him lightly under the chin. “Neither are you.”

“I know that, intellectually, and yet…somehow, it remains difficult for me to grasp.”

“Because even though you’re Logic, sweetie,” Janus says, “you’re Thomas’s Logic.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Because Thomas is, frankly, something of a dumbass.”

It startles a laugh out of him at any rate.

“I mean, that also makes you a dumbass.”

“Oh, I’m perfectly aware.”

Logan’s smile is wonderful. “What is it that Roman is quite fond of saying?”

“That he’s pure of heart, dumb of ass?”

“That’s is.”

“Well, it’s true.”

“It is.” Logan frowns. “Even if he’s far more intelligent than he gets credit for.”

Janus nudges him. “I hope you know that you can be big of brain and dumb of ass at the same time.”

“Ah. I see.”

There’s another moment of silence as they reflect on what’s been said. Then Logan nervously adjusts his tie.

“Speaking of Roman…”

“I was about to say.” Janus gives his knee a pat. “Shall we see if we can find him?”

“I believe his business in the Imagination should be done.” They help each other to stand, Logan keeping a grip on Janus’s sleeve. “Should we check his room first?”

“I think so.”

Roman, of course, swings open the door with a cheerful greeting, the role of the pompous prince firmly in place until he takes in their tear-stained faces and he melts, dropping the act almost immediately.

“Oh, my darlings,” he coos, cupping each of their faces in a hand, “what’s the matter? Why do you look so upset?”

“May we come in, please?” Indeed, poor Logan looks as if he’s about to melt into Roman’s arms. Janus can’t talk, though, he’s about to do the same.

“Of course, come on, let’s get you sat down—“

Roman bustles about the room, fetching them a glass of water, sitting on his bed with them, almost bursting into tears himself when he hears what’s happened and promptly telling them they’re going to spend the rest of the day right here, in comfy clothes, watching ridiculously obscure documentaries until Patton and Remus call them down for dinner. They keep a hand on each other at all times, laughing at Janus’s snarky responses to awful narrators, Logan’s quick corrections when the information is out of date, and Roman’s impersonations of the strange wildlife. Roman’s room is pleasantly noisy and they wouldn’t have it any other way.

He doesn’t remember how it started, but he will always remember how it ended.

Curled around each other, in the warmth and safety of the people who care about him.

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[a-dorin]

stranger

pairing: the mandalorian x medic!reader 

word count: 2.69k

warnings: cursing, canon typical violence, blood, wounds, burns, references to killing/violence, the taste of blood, sewing a wound up, yearning, pining, an idiot who wears only a beskar helmet and takes on more than he can handle 99.99% of the time

a/n: hi i wrote this in like no time at all so i hope you guys like it. (also at like 2:05 in the morning) also, this takes place during season one, and diverts a little bit  away from canon because he doesn’t have all of his new beskar armor yet (oops) also, sorry if the ending line is shitty i have a hard time with it sometimes 

“i thought this was the last time you were going to pull shit like this on me karga,” you dig your index finger into his chest, your jaw clenched, lips curled in a sneer, “you always say it’s going to be the last time shit like this happens and guess what? it doesn’t ever fucking end does it? i help you one time and--”

the leader hangs his head, raising a hand in defeat, “i am well aware of how you feel about me and the way i do my business. however, this is someone i can’t turn away. and you’re the only person i trust to fix him.”

exhaling, your eyes squeeze shut, “who is it?”

“someone who has been working with me for quite some time,” greef pauses, taking a moment to gauge your reaction, “he’s a skilled bounty hunter, one of the best, actually. typically, he fixes himself right up, but his injuries are far too severe to just ‘sew up’ and go about his business. trust me, i had to do some convincing to even bring him to you.”

through the entryway, a draft rolls in, causing you to shrink into your clothes, “it’s a little too chilly to talk out here. come in, we can discuss my payment, and then i’ll make my decision.”

greef takes a step forward, clearing his throat, “i’ll pay you, and so will he. i am well aware of how you feel about giving my men medical attention. but you do know that i will pay you well for this, right?”

you nod slightly, rubbing your temple with your fingers, “how much are we talking here, karga?” 

“i would like for you to assess his injuries first,” he counters, “then we can talk about payment.”

“fine,” you mutter, crossing over to your table, “please, just bring him in. if he bleeds out on my table, it’s your fault karga!” 

“hopefully there will be none of that,” karga shakes his head, the words so low that you could barely hear him, “i’ll bring him in. let me know when you’re finished.”

swiftly, you gather up your supplies, your hands gathering as much as you could. from the sound of it, things weren’t looking good. reaching out, you pull your cart towards you, practically tossing the supplies on the metallic surface. cursing under your breath, you search for your gloves, eyes frantically searching your surroundings, yet they’re nowhere to be found. 

guess you’d have to get a little messy with this one. 

a long-winded groan startles you from your task at hand, and your heart sinks the moment karga brings him in. he’s donned head to toe in battle armor, the hues of the metal a variety of colors. the only distinguishable piece is a beskar helmet, light reflecting off its surface. 

not once did karga mention that you would be tending to a mandalorian. 

“how bad is it?” you inquire, your voice crisp and cool as you stride over to karga, helping him carry the mandalorian to your table. 

blood seeps through his clothes, soaking the garments with a horrid scarlet. in several spots, there is singed fabric, signifying that he took a few good shots. the mandalorian reeks of burnt flesh and the stench of a battle, your nose wrinkling and bile rising in your throat. 

this was far worse than karga described, and this was no time to start panicking. 

“just a few blaster shots,” the mandalorian cuts in, his voice distorted from a modulator, “nothing that i couldn’t fix myself.”

“ah, ah, ah,” karga interjects, “there’s more to it than that. i believe he has several lacerations, perhaps a few burns from blasters.”

“that beskar couldn’t stop everything huh?” you arch a brow, in an attempt to lighten the mood. 

the mandalorian doesn’t respond, anxiety bubbling up within you, “karga, try and keep him awake as long as you can. i have a few healing stems, along with some bacta shots, but depending on how deep the wounds are, i won’t be able to treat him unless we strip him of the armor.”

“i-i can’t take that off,” the mandalorian gurgles, “i-i, m-my cr-creed.”

“what creed?” you shoot karga a curious glance, guilt plastering his features. 

“he has a creed he follows,” karga inhales sharply, “it’s his way of life.”

your lips part, forming an o. you want to scold karga for not briefing you on all of the minor details, as he normally does with his men. however, there was no time for banter or bickering. 

you had to maintain your composure. 

“how much blood has he lost, you think?” 

“i can’t give you a definite answer on that,” karga takes a step back, allowing you to survey the mandalorian, “i would say a lot, but i’m not too sure. perhaps his garments stopped some of it, or the pressure of his armor.”

“that’s not enough pressure,” you murmur, plucking a pair of shears off your cart, “hey mando, can you hear me? are you still with us?” 

a feeble hand raises from the table, his voice breathy and far away, “i-i’m here. anything but the helmet, please.”

“of course,” your voice is soft and hushed, “the helmet is off limits.”

“now that i’ve got him in here,” karga gestures his head towards the nearly unconscious mandalorian, “he has something back at his ship that i need to tend to. will you need my assistance or can you handle it?” 

“i can handle it,” your voice falters, “go do what you need to do. it may be an hour or two before he’s feeling better.”

“you know how to find me if you need me,” karga’s words trail off as he exits your home, the doors sliding shut behind him. 

“all right mando,” you take his hand, squeezing it, “i’m going to start by removing your armor okay? let me know if you can’t feel anything. that’s when we have a problem.”

“i can feel everything,” he spits out, “fuck. it hurts. it all hurts.”

“you really took a beating huh?” carefully, you start by removing his boots, hastily yet with caution. 

who knew if he took a hit to the spine, paralyzing any point of his body. 

“hey,” you place his boots on the floor, “can you wriggle your toes for me mando?”

immediately, relief ripples through you as you watch his toes move, signaling that there was no nerve damage. next, you remove the plates of armor covering his shins and thighs, placing them directly by his boots. the armor was severely damaged, almost beyond repair, as it was littered with dents and holes. 

how many run-ins did this mandalorian have in his lifetime? how many of his days had he spent fighting? 

“do you have other clothing in your ship?” you press on, slicing the fabric with your shears, “karga mentioned you had a ship.”

“mmmhmmmm,” he hums, “name is the razor crest.”

“ahh,” soaking a rag with bacta spray, you wiped down his exposed legs, assessing his wounds as you did so, “that’s a wonderful name.”

the flesh was only burned, which could be healed almost instantly with the bacta spray. luckily, there wouldn’t be much scar tissue either, only a few minor scars here and there. yet, you wondered if there was an inch of the mandalorian’s body that wasn’t scarred. 

“d-don’t worry so much bout my legs,” he stammers, “it’s my shoulder that i’m worried about. i can feel the blood soaking through.”

“i’ll have to remove the rest of your armor and your tunic,” biting your lip, your hands wrap around his chest plate, desperate to find a way to get it off. 

“hey,” his voice sounds again, this time a lot clearer, “i can get it off. you don’t have to worry about being hasty about this. i’ll make sure you get your sum.”

“i-i just,” you stutter, the taste of blood hitting your tongue as he sits up, “karga sounded so worried and i want to do a good job because the way he talked, you were his best hunter and i just can’t--”

“you won’t fuck anything up,” a hand reaches out, finding yours, “this isn’t anything i haven’t encountered before. the thing is, you’re a trained medic. i’m not. i would probably make a mistake and make my injuries worse somehow. take. your. time.” 

for a moment, your eyes flutter closed, a weary sigh flowing from your lips. you can sense the mandalorian watching you carefully, studying your features through the tinted visor. 

“o-okay,” you whisper. 

the mandalorian sits up, shedding away the remaining pieces of his armor, “would you like for me to roll over?”

you nod, gnawing at your lower lip once more as you realize that this mandalorian, this stranger, was about to be nearly undressed, half-bleeding, half-conscious, on your table. and he was so patient with you. so much kinder than previous patients in the past. 

“wait,” your brow furrows, “your helmet would make it awkward for you to lay on your stomach. how about you move over a little, to the edge of the table?”

“of course.”

he straightens his back, scooting over to give you some space. clambering onto the table, you reach up to adjust your light. taking your rag, you wipe down his back and shoulders, muscles rippling under your touch. every so often, your fingertips graze his heated skin as you lose yourself in your work. 

you catch a quiet groan as you continue to work, your heart fluttering. 

the sound wasn’t drenched with pain, nor anywhere near the noise you first encountered when he was being brought in by karga. 

this was a sound of contentment, a sound of bliss. 

“how long has it been since you’ve felt someone’s touch?”

shame burns through you the moment the question tumbles from your lips, nearly consuming you whole as he tenses. maker, did you feel so guilty. he was a stranger to you. how could you just blatantly ask that? 

the answer arrives, short and sweet. 

“too long.”

leaning over, you press a piece of cloth on his shoulder, a lengthy laceration stretching from his clavicle to his left shoulder blade, “oh, i see.”

“do you usually get this close and personal with your patients?”

“depends,” you shrug, “hey, i’m about to sew you up. it may sting.”

plunging the needle in, you press yourself to his back as you start the suture, your breath fanning against his neck. the mandalorian stiffens as he catches a whiff of your scent, and how it was so heavenly as it wafted into his nostrils. 

his jaw clenches as he chokes back a hiss of pain, remaining as still as possible. 

“you’re being so good for me,” your voice floods his ear, the praise nearly causing him to crumble completely. 

within seconds, you’re all finished, sliding off the table, “i take it that karga is coming back with a change of clothes?”

“i hope so.”

gazing over at your table, you notice the healing stems, “i have some healing stems for your travels. they’ll probably help with that dull pain you’ll have in that area for a while. it won’t be an issue unless you somehow reopen that wound. if it was any closer to any major artery in your neck, you would’ve bled out.”

“i’ll take them.”

“well,” you hand them to him, “take them before you forget them. you seem like the forgetful type.”

a low chuckle erupts from the beskar, “i don’t think i could forget a night like--”

a knock on the doors interrupts the mandalorian’s sentence, cutting it short. as you make your way over, you hear a string of curses flowing from the table. more than likely his native tongue. pressing a button, the doors slide open, revealing greef karga and a strange, little creature, swathed by a bundle of clothing in his arms. 

“you were fast,” karga remarks, cradling the creature, “how is he?”

“he’s fine,” your focus is directed away from karga, honing in on the creature, “who is this?”

“this is what i had to retrieve from his ship. he’s a very precious child. extremely important to that mandalorian over there.”

the child coos, its eyes two vast pools of obsidian. he blinks, a tiny hand flailing out. you melt, lips curling into a broad smile, “hello, little one. are you looking for your father?”

“he is,” the mandalorian echoes from across the space. 

karga enters, keeping the child against his chest as he strides over, placing the bundle next to the mandalorian. from a distance, you watch fondly as the child teeters towards the bounty hunter, an incoherent blubber sounding as his guardian pats his head, reassuring him that they would no longer be separated. 

within minutes, the mandalorian was springing to his feet, with a fresh set of a clothes, the same armor strapped to his frame. the child is in his embrace now, clinging onto his thumb. karga hovers by his side, more than likely filling him in on the next mission. the next victim to hunt. 

“how should i pay you?” his voice, one you had grown familiar over the course of the hour, fills your ears. 

“oh,” you blink, “um, don’t worry about it. you have far more important things to--”

“no,” his tone is firm, “you deserve some sort of payment.”

“she lives here after all,” karga remarks, folding his arms across his chest, “i could pay her any time.”

“how about you head out so that we can discuss this a little more privately?” he turns to karga, the query almost more of a command than a question. 

“of course,” karga dips his head, shifting towards you, “i’ll see you around. hopefully this is the last time i spring a patient on you.”

“i’m sure it won’t be the last,” you roll your eyes playfully, “see you around, karga.”

“tell me, how much do i owe you? name anything in the galaxy and it’s yours.”

“you’re ridiculous,” you snort, “you don’t owe me anything. you could’ve died and you’re worried about paying me.”

“because you deserve it,” he takes a step forward, the space between the two of you dissipating, “from the sound of it, you let this happen quite frequently. you don’t get paid enough for it either.”

“how about you pay me a visit the next time you make a pitstop in nevarro,” your eyes fall to the floor, careful to not meet his gaze, “would that be enough?”

a gloved hand grasps your chin, tilting your head up. 

“oh cyar’ika, that would be more than enough.”

the child giggles, bouncing, “maybe you should get a move on. he seems hungry. there’s a cantina not too far away from here. they serve good food, even if the locals get a bit rowdy. i bet it’s nothing you run into, though.”

“it’s probably best if i leave nevarro.”

“be safe out there mando,” you whisper.

“i will.”

just like that, he’s out the door, leaving your knees weak, heart all aflutter. 

as the mandalorian made his way to the razor crest, child in tow, his mind was reeling, all of his thoughts honing in one particular thing. 

a medic on nevarro, who mentioned briefly that he seemed to the forgetful type. yeah, he traveled near and far, to all rims and edges of the galaxy, but he was one to forget people, nor faces. he encountered so many species: human, twi’leks, wookiees, chiss, you name it.

the moment he stepped foot on the razor crest, he yearned. the desire burning through him, aching and desperate. 

stars, how he longed to go back. just for one more glimpse. one more glimpse of that stranger’s face, that beautiful face. 

he was determined though, determined to find his way back. perhaps in a few days, even. the mandalorian was relentless, especially when it came to getting what he craved. and oh, how he craved to know the name of the stranger on nevarro. 

someone who would no longer be a stranger to the mandalorian. 

he just knew it.

[statticscribbles]

Mission Pt 1: Backlog

Summary: A Peggy/Reader/Bucky, Reader is another winter soldier, Bucky was left in charge of you

You wake up and everything is black, you can feel the cold creeping in and you wish for the before. You squint against the light and can hear screaming and gunshots far off. The man standing in front of you holds a gun towards you; you nod and grasp it, moving out of the box they usually keep you in.

“Fuckin’ hell they didn’t say you were a woman.”

“Orders?” You ignore his questions and wait for him to say what he wants. He explains how you need to follow him and make sure he doesn’t get killed. 

“Accepted mission. Where is the end point?”

“End point? Uh, my hotel room.” You nod and follow him out. He screams as you drag him back to the wall and shove him through a door.

“Safe in room, wait.” You return to the main hall and pick off the agents searching for the man. You know they don’t expect you to have a new handler yet so they enlist you for help. You lead them back to the room shooting them when they peer through the doorway. You step on the bodies as you reach for the man.

“Sir, Come out. It’s safe now.” You tug him over the bodies and move towards the entry way. You press him towards the car, and he stumbles over his nerves as you shove him in the back seat.

“I am not being driven by a woman.”

“Then we walk.” He grumbles but settles into the back seat as you start the car. You drive in silence for a while before the man tells you his hotel address. You pull up to the building and can see most of the people in familiar clothes. You nod to the man and as he gets out he beckons you forward.

“To my room, those were your orders.” You tuck the gun away and nod moving in front of him to lead him towards room 304. You can tell you unnerve him although you’re not sure if it’s because you’re a woman or because you just killed ten people. You step over into the rooms threshold and nod to him as he enters it. You turn to him when he closes and locks the door.

“New Orders are-“ You shoot him through the stomach.

“My orders before you were to kill you, thankfully your mission did not interfere with superiors.” You nod and step over his body before aiming the gun at his head and firing. You begin to make your way back to the base but a smell wafts around you and you find yourself captivated by it. You follow it and find yourself standing in front of a diner. You catch a glimpse of your reflection and decide that there’s no blood anywhere so you can afford to stop in and eat real food, with the emergency money Commander gives you. You order a burger fries and a milkshake and the woman who takes your order smiles at you. You can hear the door opening and another person walking in.

“Hey there English, can I get you the usual?” You don’t look up but assume the woman’s nods form the scrape of the chair you hear next. 

“Any more leads on that old case? I’ve seen you pouring over the files, who was she anyways, she can’t have been that important to the SSR otherwise they’d have everyone looking for her.”

“You’re smarter than everyone gives you credit for, she was a very good friend.” You frown at the voice. You’ve heard it before, you’ve heard her before. You searching through your old missions and as you finish you burger the waitress worriedly fusses over you.

“You’re crying, are you sure you’re alright miss.” She hands you a tissue and you wipe your face with it. Clutching it you nod.

“Fine, just a bad memory is all.” You try to smile but the other woman is suddenly peering at your face.

“Y/N?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know anyone by that name, I’ve been told I have one of those faces.” You smile awkwardly and glance up to the clock. It’s only been an hour; you’ll be able to make it to the safe house long before sunset.

“I’m sorry, are you sure you don’t know anyone by that name.”

“I wish I could say otherwise but I don’t know anyone named that.” You stand and excuse yourself, wringging your hands as you know she wasn’t asking the right questions. You make it to the safe house and Commander ushers you in fretting over you.

“What happened?”

“Target requested a mission, but it didn’t interfere with the orders to eliminate him, just extended the mission. He’s dead, in his hotel room.”

“You smell like grease..”

“ He decided to get food with me. I had a milkshake.” Commander frowns.

“And a burger and fries..”

“You’ll have to burn that off before we put you back in cryo. You know the rules about eating on missions.”

“It would have been suspicious to refuse..” Commander nods.

“Let's go train then, you haven’t beaten me in years.” Commander laughs and lets you charge first. You’re twisting yourself back and fumbling to grab at the knife you dropped as another agent scampers forward.

“Commander, a new mission..” The agent shrinks back when they see you panting holding the knife in front of yourself protectively.

“Thank you Jason, well, looks like you’ll be going into cryo for a while then… They want to work on improvements with other subjects, but they’re allowing me and my team to keep you in peak health; we’ll be waking you every few years to re-feed you and keep you up to date on the world. They said it should only take a decade or so to complete.” You nod and pocket your knife before following Commander down to the basement. You tense in fear as the cryo pod comes into view and you shrink back as the door hisses open.

“Come one, you know this has to happen eventually. Go on. Make it easier and choose to sleep.” You swallow and nod skittering around the edge before clumsily climbing into the open door. You peer up to see the Commander smiling down at you.

“You’ll be okay Y/N, you’ll be okay.” You feel the cold and you’re not sure if you nodded back before everything goes back to the dark before.

Commander looks no different than when you went back in, but you’re brought to a small table in the basement that wasn’t there before. You notice their limp as you settle into the chair.

“Your leg?”

“Nothing to worry about, just age. Now you’ve been out for five years, so this is everything that’s happened.. We also have some clothes and music for you to examine as well. If needed you can be brought out to the town nearby.” You nod and begin to read the notebooks and newspapers that the agents have gathered for you. You look up the stairs as a knock on the door sounds. A male agent comes down holding a tray.

“Average meal of the week. Eat it.” You can tell he’s afraid, you’re not sure if it’s of Commander or you. You nod and eat the food mechanically.

“This is a chicken pot pie, it’s a simple easy dish to make, we could cook it if you want.. We have a week till you go back in. You’ll need to train and use some updated weapons.” You nod. Commander gives you the quilt that you’ve been told to sew. You add a few squares of fabric from the old dresses and clothes your wore. The new wardrobe you won’t wear is folded nicely in the closet. You wonder when the quilt will be finished and you secretly hope once it’s done they’ll let you keep it. Commander lets you work on the quilt for an hour before you’re brought up to the kitchen to learn how to make a chicken pot pie. You learn what and how to fire and dismantle an Uzi within the next two days. Once you have your knives strapped to your arms and legs Commander hustles you towards the town. You wish for the combat clothes you normally wear, but tuck yourself into the massive winter coat anyways. You’re tense and paranoid in the strange town, it hasn’t changed much but you long to go to the city nearby and look for the diner. Commander asks if you want to go to the city tomorrow as you seem to be able to handle the crowds of the town. You try to hide your excitement but can’t help the warmth in your smile. You wake up from the cot you’ve been sleeping on to hear shouting and a gunshot. You keep your knives close but stay curled under the blankets and coat from the wardrobe. You huddle curled under the coat tucking your body as close to yourself as you can get. You can hear footsteps rushing around the rest of the house and you can hear the door slamming to the basement and you tuck yourself under the coat fully. You hear men shouting and all the papers on the table being thrown around. You can hear them ripping the clothes out of the wardrobe and tossing them over the coat you’re tucked under. You hear stray gunfire and then the footsteps telling you they’ve all left the room. You peek out as you hear another set of footfalls. You can hear the limp as they stomp down the stairs and the worried face of Commander stares at you before hustling you over to the cyro’s open door.

“You have to get in now, we need to transport you to New York, it’s the safest place for you. Get in.” Commander shoves you forward into the pod, you turn around and see blood covering the doorway as it’s closed over you. You fall into sleep before you can question if the blood is your own.

You wake again to Commanders face. There are gray hairs are slowly creeping over the brown you’ve grown accustom to. You’re not sure why you’re expecting his hair to be longer.

“You’ve been out for fifteen years. Come on Y/N, time to get up, you’ve had enough beauty sleep. A lot’s been happening.” You stumble out of the pod and swipe your hand through your hair.

“We’ll have to give that a trim, it’s getting long again.” You nod and move towards the table you see in the corner.

“We’re in New York city. Still a basement, but that’s safest right now. Shall we get down to business? Quilt first, it helps with your motor skills and helps your body adjust to being out of the pod.” You’re handed the quilt and given twice the normal amount of fabric to add, you settle into the new armchair and start sewing.

“There was a space craft launched, and a new president, as well as Winston Churchill’s funeral, in addition to two men going into orbit, and a massive civil right’s movement. There’ were some amazing movies and musicals produced. And my favourite part of this year so far is that sixty-six of those nazi’s got life sentences in prison.”

“Busy year then?”

“Oh! Germany’s been divided by a wall as well, that happened a few years ago. You don’t need to know any of that though. I’ve woken you up because you have a mission. Here is everything you need to know about it, you have two days. It shouldn’t take you that long though.” You nod taking the black book from her hands you scan over the information and go to the wardrobe to find clothes to wear. You like this year; the clothes while not terribly loose seem to be long enough to conceal more weapons than previous years. You slip you knives against your skin and hum in time with the sound of the metal. You depart the safe house for the first time in a decade. You giggle at the thought. You’re walking through the streets and find the building easily. You walk through the doors and slip past the secretary  and up the two flights of stairs. You’re scanning the door numbers when a young woman approaches you.

“Excuse me can I help you?”

“Yes I’m looking for Mr. Phillips office I have a three pm meeting, and I’m terrified I’m late.” The woman smiles and leads you to a large door where she knocks and shoves you in with a wink calling out to Mr. Phillips’ that his three o’ clock is here. You smile shyly and notice another woman sitting in a chair.

“I should get going then. Sir, I’ll see you later.” The woman stands and as she breezes by you tense. She keeps her eyes straight ahead and you can tell she gasps as you tell Mr. Phillips you name is Y/N. You’re not sure if that was a reckless move, but within the hour Ms. Peggy Carter is the only one to remember. You’re sitting outside a familiar diner, cleaning one of your knives in the back alley before you start your way back to the safe house.

You slip into the house without knocking and you ready one of you knives dragging the tip against Commanders arm as it’s draped over the arm of the couch.

“You’re late, stop by to get a burger again?”

“No just to clean up, lot’s of blood.”

“Blood?”

“Yeah the orders on the paper were to kill Mr. Phillips..”

“After we got information out of him! How the fuck are we supposed to get information out of a dead guy!”

“I can get it I swear!” You stumble back as Commander lunges forward from the couch, gun gripped with white knuckles.

“You fucking better! Get out and don’t come back till you have all the information!” You scramble back to the headquarters and mumble an excuse about forgetting your purse. You shift through as many of the files as you can; folding and stuffing the papers into the bag you slipped under your skirt. You huff and finish emptying the file cabinets against the back wall. You hear footsteps approaching and sigh as you crawl onto the fire escape the slip into the alley. You return and throw the bag towards the chair Commander sits in.

“Thank you. I’m sorry for being harsh but that would have ruined the mission. I won’t punish you like the rest of the agents want me to. But if they ask I shocked you for a while.

“Of course.”

“You’ll have to go back in now, the mission is finished.”

“But I could help you look through the files.. or I could-“

“Y/N, you have to go back in. no arguments, go on. I’ll be down in a second.” You’re seated at the table scribbling in the margin of the notes you’ve been given to learn. Commander comes down the worn steps, the limp all the more obvious and you take a moment to truly look at Commander’s appearance. 

“Commander, your hairs long, we should trim it…” you laugh weakly.

“Come on, to the pod. In a minute though, I need to tell you something first.” You nod letting commander hold out the quilt to you.

“We’ll let you finish this, I’ve left instructions for your next handlers. When you go into the pod this time, I wont be here when you wake up. You’re going to be asleep for a long time, but you’ll be okay.” Commander smiles at you. Now is as good a time as any to ask.

“Commander, did I ever go on a mission with anyone named Peggy Carter, I keep remembering her but I’m not sure if, it’s all fuzzy..”

“You’ll remember her as you sleep, you’ll remember what happened to us. Now, Y/N, go to sleep.” You furrow your brow biting your lip.

“Goodnight Commander.”

“Bucky.” He smiles and kisses your forehead.

You can hear two people arguing as you wake up, you make a point not to move but another man’s voice say’s your heart rate is increasing. You try to keep yourself calm but you can feel the panic creeping in. He comments again on your heart rate accelerating and you open your eyes to realize the door to the pod is still closed. You slam your hand against it and it pops open. There are three men in front of you and two other people behind them that you can’t see.

“Did none of you read the instructions?” You watch as they’re expressions shift.

“Instructions?”

“Yes, look they’re right here. Commander, oh.. Here.” You hand them the piece of worn paper and you grasp at the quilt.

“I need to sew more on this, it helps with my motor skills.”

“Of course.” One of the men hands you the sewing kit and smiles softly. You nod back. You finish stitching the clothes you last wore and you look up as the group read the instructions.

“So it say’s here we give you all these notebooks, you read them, and we ‘take you out for current time activities’ which apparently is normal stuff people do every day in this time period..”

“What’s the year?”

“2018” A woman steps from behind the men.

“Peggy!” You jump forward clinging to her. You can vaguely hear one of the men cursing and another woman stands next to Peggy, she gentely pulls you off her.

“You changed your hair it looks so light? Did you get bleach to do it, is there a secret mission?”

“My name’s Sharon, Peggy was my aunt.”

“She died? But I never got to tell her I was okay..”

“You knew Peggy?”

“Yes, she was my friend, and I worked with her on some of the missions..” 

“Y/N?”

“At your service!” You beam at the man who walks down the stairs.

“Wow, you’ve changed quiet a bit since I last saw you, the hair looks good.” Bucky raises an eyebrow.

“You knew me when I was Winter?”

“Of course, we only went on a few missions but your team liked to brag about you to my team. They called you the fist and went on and on about all your missions, they just called me Y/N..”

“Y/N?”

“Yeah, number 56327. If you want to be more specific..”

“Oh. Oh god, I’m so sorry I didn’t..” You hold your hand up smiling.

“It’s alright. Nothing came of it.” He nods and moves you away from Sharon. You tilt your head at the other woman. She raises an eyebrow at you and steps closer. You step backwards and Bucky laughs.

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[nerdypanda3126]

A Game of Snake and Mouse – Ch. 3

A little bit of angst makes the fluff sweeter, right?

Or: Viperion’s first akuma battle alongside his new girlfriend affects him more than he thought it would.

Read on Ao3

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

"Second Chance!" Viperion called, resetting his timer for the third time. 

Desperately, he lunged towards Ladybug, tackling her to the ground just as an akuma blast exploded right where she'd been standing. He hopped to his feet instantly and tugged her with him, taking a step back and clutching her close to his chest as the side of the building crumbled away. 

"Third reset," he muttered in her ear, keeping a sharp eye turned on the akuma. "The explosions are problematic. We need to get close without attracting her notice somehow." 

"Chat Noir!" Ladybug called. 

Chat Noir turned to look at her right as an explosion went off next to him, sending him sprawling to the ground headfirst with a hard crack. He struggled to lift himself up, then fell back down, unconscious. 

Viperion cursed and reset again. 

Tackle. Duck. Stand up quick. He shushed Ladybug by putting a finger to her lips. "Fourth reset. Don't call out." 

She nodded and he tapped on her Multimouse pendant wordlessly. She'd taken to wearing both, just in case, despite his protests. Although it did come in rather handy right about now.  They needed Multimouse's ability to sneak up on this one. 

She nodded once more, short and curt, and combined her Miraculous before she looped an arm around his waist and slung her yoyo out as far as she could towards the rampaging akuma. They landed behind a billboard and Viperion detransformed, throwing Sass an egg and keeping an eye out at the same time. Without his suit, adrenaline and concern for his teammates pumped through him in equal measures, spiking his heart rate, making every minute feel like an endless second. 

Chat Noir was doing an excellent job of keeping the akuma’s blasts away from them, and Viperion was back in action within a few minutes. He set his timer and Multibug called on her Multitude power, shrinking as her clones separated. 

Viperion watched from his hiding place as Multibug snuck up from behind the akuma in all different directions. Another explosion went off and his eyes flicked to Chat Noir for the briefest moment, checking to make sure he hadn’t been hit. As per usual, Chat was being reckless, but in that calculated way of his, throwing himself just close enough before dancing away, playing cat and mouse with the akuma. 

Which is when things went sideways. Frustrated with Chat’s taunting, the akuma screamed and blew out a blast in all directions, scorching the rooftop they were on and blowing seven little Multibugs off their feet. Viperion’s ears were ringing as he watched Chat try to put his arms up in defense, losing his balance on his baton again as the aftershock of the explosion hit him. 

He fumbled at the snake’s head of his bracelet, his eyes stinging from the heat and the sudden onslaught of tears. None of the Multibugs were moving. He didn’t look any longer than he had to. 

“Second Chance!” he finally managed to choke out. 

Multibug had her jump rope in her hand, ready to call on Multitude and he stopped her, wrapping his arms around her to pull her close with his back turned to the billboard. 

“Wait,” he murmured, his voice thick with the emotion of having her back, having her safe, having her in his arms again. Losing Ladybug was par for the course at this point, not that he liked it, but it was his job to stay composed, and she counted on him to stay composed. 

To lose Marinette like that. He wasn’t prepared for it. Never wanted to be prepared for it. 

“Viperion…” she started, but he hushed her by squeezing her to him and pressing his lips to hers, hard. 

The akuma screamed. The resulting explosion rocked the billboard behind him, throwing him a step forward into her, and Marinette’s eyes widened as she clutched him tighter. 

“Chat’s down,” he said in her ear. “Go now.” 

She rushed to call on her power and Viperion stepped into the distraction role, pulling the akuma’s attention away as Marinette crept up behind her, too small to be noticed until the charm bracelet was thrown over to Viperion and he crushed it beneath his boot. 

All the tiny Marinettes combined again and Multibug called her Lucky Charm that they hadn’t used—a stuffed tiger, what would they have done with that?—before tossing it in the air. The magic Ladybugs washed over everything, setting it all right and fixing the damage from the explosions before Multibug captured and purified the akuma. 

As soon as it was over, she turned to him, smiling, offering him a fist bump, but he took her hand instead and tugged her to him again, capturing her lips in a kiss that said everything he couldn’t. He watched her eyes flutter closed, and she went up on her toes to return it, tangling her fingers in his hair. He barely registered that she tasted like vanilla mixed with the remnants of magic that clung to her, something like the air after a lightning strike, and he breathed her in, every second more cherished than the last. 

An obvious throat clear broke them apart, and when Viperion managed to tear his eyes away from Multibug, Chat Noir was helping the akuma victim to her feet with a teasing grin stretched across his face that didn’t meet his eyes. Before Viperion could say anything, Chat Noir waved him off with the excuse of helping the victim home before his timer ran out, even though he hadn’t used his Cataclysm and so didn’t have a time limit. 

“That’ll be an interesting conversation later,” Multibug mused before she turned back to him. “Cat’s outta the bag, I guess?” 

He groaned. “You’ve been hanging out with him too much—his puns are rubbing off on you.” 

“Sorry.” She giggled, then sighed. “I guess it was about time to tell him, though, don’t you think?” 

“I wasn’t really a fan of keeping the secret identity rule, anyways.” 

He traced her bottom lip where his fangs had nicked her in his rush to have her close to him. A tiny purple blister had formed where he hadn’t quite broken skin but definitely hadn’t remembered to be careful. Her fingers traced a nervous pattern at the base of his neck. 

“Was it bad?” she asked hesitantly. “You seem a little shaken up.” 

He shook his head, his eyes locked on that tiny mark on her lip, fighting for his words to come out normally past his dry throat. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

She caught the strain in his tone and her eyelashes fluttered as she looked down at their feet. “You can tell me, you know. I know it’s all okay in the end, but it must be hard to see—” 

“I know,” he cut her off quickly. Seeing it was one thing. Hearing Marinette talk about it was another. “I know,” he said again, softer this time before he rubbed her back and dropped a kiss to the top of her head. “I just can’t. It’s…” He sighed. “It’s different, that’s all.” 

She nodded as if she understood before her earrings started beeping and she brought her eyes back up to meet his. 

“I have to go.” 

“Be right behind you,” he answered her, reluctantly letting her step out of his embrace so she could sling her yoyo away towards the bakery. She glanced back once before she tugged on the string and she was gone. 

Viperion sat on the roof and laid his head back against the wall, taking deep breaths as his timer ran down. Normally he’d circle back to the Liberty to solidify his alibi, but he was still rattled and he wouldn't be able to hide it from Juleka. 

When Sass appeared, he gave Luka a long look before settling quietly on his shoulder and starting in on his egg. 

A horrible thought twisted Luka's stomach and he grimaced as bile rose in his throat and mixed with the words of his question. "Sass? When I reset… those timelines, they disappear, right? They're not… still out there somewhere? Happening even though I tried to stop it?" 

"It isss unwissse to ponder such thingsss," Sass answered, which wasn't terribly comforting. Luka frowned. 

Objectively, he knew Sass was right; he shouldn't think about the things that theoretically hadn't happened. It was over, the day had been saved, his job was done. But he couldn't shake the feeling that somewhere out there was a Viperion dealing with the aftermath of all the things he hadn't been able to stop. Every time he'd failed and lost Chat Noir or Ladybug. Lost Marinette. His stomach took another awful twist and he turned his head to retch off to the side. 

When the dry heaving subsided, he laid his head on his hand, closed his eyes, and focused on breathing. On being in the present. The cold, hard concrete underneath him. The breeze lifting the hair from his neck and wicking his sweat away. Even his still rolling stomach and his trembling hands. He was here, in this moment. He was okay. 

And so was Marinette. Back in her room by now, humming happily at her sewing machine, or helping her parents in the bakery, or maybe, if he was lucky, she was lounging on her balcony, waiting for him. 

He opened an eye when Sass laid a tiny flipper on his wrist by his bracelet. He'd finished eating and seemed to know where Luka's thoughts had fled. Luka nodded to him and pushed himself up to stand on wobbly knees before he transformed again and started his brisk run towards the bakery.

[sailor-manga]

A/N: I’m so sorry this took so long, and I’m really sorry if this isn’t the greatest. I just know quite a few of you have been waiting for it so I tried to finish it with little motivation I had left. ;u; I love you guys, hope you enjoy. Also, I know there is mention of a party in this fic, and it was just getting long already so if you guys want a part two where they go on their first.. official date [I guess?] Just let me know. 

This fic is meant for readers +18, if you are not +18, please go elsewhere.

Warnings: Smut, Swearing. 

Word Count: 5,397 words.

You hurt, you didn’t know what went wrong.. One second you were simply walking home from a friends house, next thing- You found yourself in a pile of rubble, trapping your leg and leaving you helpless. Letting out a loud cry, you would hear more smashing in the distance, as well as yelling- There was a fight breaking out and you were in the middle of it. You could see a flash of red, it was Red Riot, pinning down a hybrid looking human. Your eyes practically lit up! Red Riot was your favorite Pro Hero and you found yourself constantly swooning over the male on TV or on the internet. 

You were so giddy that he was here, you ALMOST forgot the fact that you leg was being crushed by a fucking piece of building, begging to be let out. You could feel blood dripping, and it did hurt- a lot, but thankfully nothing felt broken, the pain would be ten times worse. 

Glancing back down at your trapped limb, you would try to pull it out, only to get out a strained cry.. You were really in there. You never thought you’d see yourself in this type of situation, you always saw yourself as careful and aware of your surroundings, but this happened out of nowhere! 

You were quickly snapped from your thoughts when some landed next to you loudly. Flushing slightly you would turn your head, expecting to see Red Riot himself ready to save you- But instead you were met with angry looking eyes and spikey blonde hair. Furrowing a brow, you would look past the male to see if you could find Red Riot “Are you fucking blind?” he grunted annoyingly, which made you huff “W-Where is Red Riot?” you asked in a shaky tone, your body shifting uncomfortably on the pile of rocks “Listen you ungrateful bitch, I’m the one here to get you out of the stupid mess you stumbled into like a fucking idiot! Now hold still so I can blow these rocks off of you” he barked at her, vile coating every word. 

This was why you didn’t like Bakugou, he was rude, arrogant, and vulgar with a horribly explosive temper.. Every interview you saw with the Pro Hero, there was always some kind of situation. He put a bad taste in your mouth and now that you were formally meeting him, you knew exactly why. Feeling small against his words you would quiet down and he would quickly put his hand on the rock and with one swift CRACK, the large piece of stone would crumble, freeing your leg and allowing it to breathe. 

Looking at your leg now, you would visibly cringe hard . Your leg was peppered with cuts and already bruises as black as night. Reaching over, you would prod at one of the cuts which immediately began to ooze crimson. Before you could really collect yourself, you would feel a hand grip at your forearm and yank you to stand. Letting out a loud cry, you would fall into Bakugou, who would quickly catch you, holding your weight up effortlessly “What are you doing, dumb ass?” he yelled, which caused you to shoot a glare up at him “M-My leg, you fucking jerk!” you snapped back at him. 

Only for a second, would his face soften to a look of concern before letting out an annoyed grunt “I should have left you under there, now I have to fucking take you to the hospital” he growled. “I don’t want to go anywhere with you! I can take myself there, I just.. Need a moment to recoup” you’d mutter out with a frown. “Listen little girl, you’re talking to a God- and I don’t wanna hear your drama” he spat, quickly cupping your cheek and letting out a ‘tch’ sound “You busted your head too, that’s probably why you don’t realize that I just saved your fuckin’ ass” he grumbled before picking you up bridal style, causing you to cry out a little. 

“Fuck! You’re hurting me” you spat before the male would shoot you another death glare, making you shrink into his chest “Just shut the hell up and let me help you, dumb ass” he spat. Swallowing hard, you knew that you wouldn’t actually be able to make it to the hospital yourself. Wrapping one of your arms around his neck, the other would lift to inspect the gash that was on your head and oh boy.. There was definitely one there. You could feel a jagged cut that started from your hairline to your brow. 

“Don’t fucking touch it, idiot- It’s already filthy from the dirt” he barked, which caused you to jump a little “Can you just.. Shut up or be nice!” you yelled out, your face growing lightly rose from frustration. Bakugou would smirk and shrug his broad shoulders “Sorry babygirl.. Kindness isn’t my brand” he replied in a cocky tone, which caused you to huff and glance away from him. The hospital wasn’t that far, but you still didn’t know why the male was walking you there rather than calling the ambulance or even taking a taxi if he really wanted to do it himself. 

As he carried you though, you would idly drop your head onto his shoulder, which made him growl out a little bit “Hey, dumb ass” he said in a soft tone, his arms shaking you lightly “You need to stay awake, who knows if you got a concussion or not, idiot” he scoffed. Staring up at him through your lashes, you would frown some “I-..just hurt” you muttered out, which caused concern to fill his eyes “We’re almost there, okay? Talk to me or whatever.. Just don’t fucking pass out on me” he snapped quietly. 

Licking your lips, you would let out a soft sigh, which caused him to shake you a little again “Tell me why you were looking for my friend” he asked, his eyes glancing elsewhere. Feeling the lump in your throat, your cheeks would vividly ignite “I-.. I’ve always wanted to meet him, he seems so nice and gentle.. I’m a fan, to put it short..” you’d mutter out in a skittish tone. The male would roll his eyes “Of course you are, there’s nothing that great about shitty hair.. He wasn’t even the one who saved you” he grumbled, which caused you to frown even deeper. 

“It doesn’t matter! At least if he was the one who saved me- We’d be at the hospital by and and he’d be a hell of a lot nicer to me” you barked out softly, which didn’t get an answer from him. Looking down to avoid any sudden glare, you would feel a little guilty.. Yes, he was a fucking jerk- but he saved you.. You knew you should thank him, but for some reason, something was stopping you. 

Before you could really get up the courage to talk again, you could hear doors opening- You two were already there? You must have zoned out, lost in your impending thoughts. Bakugou would carefully set you in a wheelchair before telling some of the staff what happened, his hero costume sticking out like a sore thumb and causing bystanders to snap his photo and take little videos of him. 

“W-Wait, Bakugou” you said quickly, but the male waved his hand at you dismissively. Biting onto your lip, you were spun around in the chair by a nurse and quickly carried off to a room so you could get further examined. Now that all the excitement was away from you, and you didn’t have that stupid jerk barking at you every five seconds, the pain was really starting to kick in and a wave of exhaustion washed over you. You were in and out as the Doctor examined your battered leg. Luckily the rubble had only created some flesh wounds. The Doctor talked about simply cleaning the wounds, and putting some ice on it. 

When it came to your head though, you needed stitches.. Luckily there was no concussion, but the cut was pretty deep, it probably happened when you initially fell. Unfortunately you weren’t able to sleep through that, the stinging feeling as the male sewed the cut shut. 

Once he finished, you would let out a whimper.. Why.. did you miss that fucking jerk? Maybe it was guilt that you didn’t get to thank him or apologize, because he was right in calling you out on being ungrateful. “Alright [First and last name], we just wanna keep you overnight to make sure that head injury is okay. Is that alright with you?” the Doctor asked with a soothing smile. 

With a small nod, he would return it and collect his tools “Get some rest, you had a hard day” the male claimed quietly before exiting the room. 

That was the last thing on your mind though. Regardless of your body feeling absolutely exhausted, your mind was going insane.. You hurt so bad, you probably would have been there longer if Bakugou hadn't seen you. Growling out to yourself, you would cover your face with your hands and shift in bed, wincing out.. Broken bones or not- Those fucking bruises felt like little needles gutting into your beaten leg. 

Sooner or later, you had drifted off- well, barely.. You couldn’t get the explosive male out of her head. That had been the whole night, occasionally waking up from both the pain and him on your mind. It wasn’t until the sun started to shine through the window of the hospital room, and you would feel a hand on yours. “B-Bakugou?” you’d mutter out quickly, your eyes fluttering open to see not Bakugou- But Red Riot himself standing sitting there next to the bed. Your eyes would widen as he smiled cheerfully at you “Hey! Sorry.. Not Bakugou- But I heard you wanted to meet me” he mused, patting your hand, 

Your guilt immediately grew, you knew that Bakugou had told him, and the whole reason he was here was because of the blonde. 

Staring at the Pro Hero, wearing his sexy costume.. You weren’t enjoying the meeting as much now that you knew why he was here. Biting your lip, you would immediately let out a whimper and hang your head down your body tensing out as you felt a few tears start to stream down your cheeks. 

The red head immediately stood and placed his hands gently on your shoulders “H-Hey, are you okay? Hurting?” he asked quickly, his voice oozing with worry. Shaking your head, you would quickly wipe at your eyes “I-I’ve wanted to meet you for so long, and now you’re finally here.. And I can’t help but feel terrible because I was mean to Bakugou and didn’t thank him or apologize for saving me and being a bitch.. And he- he did this!” you’d claim out, trying to explain only further urging the tears out. 

Kirishima’s face would fall a little, into a frown “Hey now.. I’m sure he didn’t take it heart- I mean, he got me here didn’t he?” he said in a soothing tone. Your ears weren’t completely hearing his words though, looking up at him, he would offer a comforting smile before using his thumb to wipe away a few stray tears “You want to talk to him again, don’t you..” he asked quietly.

Eyeing the male you would hiccup quietly and nod “I-I’m so happy to meet you, but.. I need to do the right thing” you’d mutter out, which caused him to chuckle “Damn, here Bakugou said he found me a cute girl, but it seems she’s already grown a crush on someone else” he purred out before patting your shoulder “When are you discharged? I’ll take you to the hot head.. And you can fix things” he assured. 

You were still taken back by the male assuming you had a crush on that jerk, that wasn’t it- Was it? No! It couldn’t be.. You simply felt bad.. And well, kind of missed his smell.. His warmth. Shaking your head quickly, you would glance up at him “I-I would really like that, but don’t get the wrong idea! I’m not crushing on him” you’d say quickly before biting your lip “Also.. I should be able to leave today, the Doctor just wanted to make sure my stitches settled alright” you claimed quietly. 

You were so incredibly grateful to meet Kirishima, he was so nice and so willing to help. After about another hour, the nurses came in and gave her clothes back, allowing her to change and leave. 

Kirishima was a gentleman and left her alone to change into her battered clothing, it wasn’t exactly the outfit you wanted to wear around Bak-... Wait, what were you saying?! You didn’t care what he would think! Shaking your head, you would open the door and head down, immediately greeted by Red Riot once again “Ready? Come on” he said, placing a hand on her upper back and urging her forward “You know, if you really wanna get to know Bakugou- there is a party tonight that he and I are going too. You should come” he suggested with a gleaming smile.

Swallowing hard, you would fiddle with a rip in your shorts “I-.. er I don’t know” you’d mutter out “I just want to say thank you is all” you’d press, which only caused the red head to roll his eyes “Fat chance, cutie! It’s all over your face~ Come on, just come for a few hours and if you aren’t feeling it- I’ll personally drive you home” he said patting your back. 

Letting out a soft sigh, you would nod your head in defeat- How could you say no to someone doing so much for you? Not to mention.. He was your favorite Pro Hero after all. 

The male would lead you to his car, opening the door for you to slide in. Doing so, your eyes would watch as he made his way around to the drivers side, plopping it with a sigh “Are you nervous?” he asked. Turning your head to him, you would look a little confused “N-Nervous? Why?” you’d ask sheepishly before he let out a snort “Well, I am bringing you back to our house” he stated quietly before looking at you.

You would stare at him with wide eyes, you didn’t think he’d make a move like that- You thought maybe you’d be meeting a cafe or something “A-Are you sure? You’re okay with me knowing where you live?” you’d ask in a shaky tone, red faced as could be. 

Kirishima shrugged “I mean, no offense.. But what are you going to do? Do you have a hidden quirk or something?” he asked with a chuckle. Sinking in your seat, you would shake your head “No.. I don’t” you pouted, which caused him to snort once again before starting the car and driving off. 

The car ride was nice, it was mainly him talking- Tell you stories about how he and Bakugou met, shit that the two had gotten into together. They honestly sounded like super close friends, it made your heart warm just thinking about it “It doesn’t ever bug you? His attitude?” you asked curiously, causing the red head to shrug “I mean, yeah he’s got a temper.. But he also has a good heart. He cares about people in his own hot headed way” he said with a bright smile.

Looking down some, you’d sigh.. You were the jerk, not Bakugou. 

It didn’t take super long before the male would finally pull over, parking in front of a rather fancy looking apartment. Biting your lip, you’d lean forward to gaze up at it. “Come on then, don’t just stare” he chuckled before getting out of the car. 

Letting yourself out, you would wince some.. Your leg still hurt pretty bad, but at least you could walk. Slightly limping your way around the car, Kirishima would once again place a hand on your back, leading you up the stairs carefully, ready to catch you if you were to lose your balance.  

Going up to one of the upper floors, Kirishima would unlock the door and immediately you would hear Bakugou from the other room “Back already, shitty hair? I thought I fucking told you to make it meaningful- And did  you get my text?” he barked loudly, causing Kirishima to roll his eyes with a smile. 

Quickly taking your hand, he would lead you down the hall “I think I did one better” he called out as they turned the corner into the living room area. 

Bakugou sat there lazily, feet propped up on the table- Shirtless and only sporting a pair of loose sweatpants. Swallowing hard you would tense as he turned his head to more than likely yell at his friend, but those deep crimson hues landed on you. Immediately, his cheeks would light up before quickly standing up and turning his attention to Kirishima who was taking his head gear off “Yo, shitty hair! This wasn’t the deal” he spat. 

Kirishima would look at him with a small smirk on his face “Hey, I didn’t intend on doing this- But this cutie here wanted to talk to you, and I invited her to the party tonight” he said flashing a grin and disappearing around the corner once again, probably to get into some more comfortable clothing. 

The blonde quickly stepped forward to stop him, but was cut short with the quick exit. Soon those eyes turned to you in a harsh glare “What do you want? You got what you wanted” he spat, flopping back on the couch with a huff. 

Building up your courage, you would step forward and awkwardly sit on the edge of the sofa, folding your hands over your lap “I’m sorry..” you muttered, causing the blonde to tense a little “What?” he grunted. 

Biting your lip, you would keep your eyes on your fidgeting hands “I-I was a jerk to you, you were totally right to call me an ungrateful bitch.. You saved me, and made sure I got into care. So thank you, Bakugou, and I’m sorry for the way I acted” you whimpered, barely able to make out the words as the male stared at you in a bit of surprise. 

“You.. came all the way here just to say that?” he asked, his voice seeming slightly softer. It didn’t last long though “D-Dumbass, you could have just told Kiri to relay the message” he huffed, crossing his arms, but never once taking his gaze from you. Finally looking up, you’d meet his stare once again. You could feel a blush start to surface which made him flush in return “Y-You sent Kirishima to me as well.. Even after I was rude to you” you muttered out.

Bakugou would quietly lean forward, his fingers just barely grazing the bandages on your head “So what.. You wouldn’t shut up about it” he grunted, his eyes now trailing down to your leg injuries “Are you.. In pain?” he asked, quickly changing the subject. 

Giving off a slight shrug, you would bite your lip “Y-Yeah.. It hurts, but I’ll manage. Luckily, nothing was broken” you said softly. 

His hand never left your head as he scooted closer “It would be better for me to have a look anyways” he grunted, sitting directly next to you and leaning forward to prod at the bandages, he didn’t want to take them off, obviously- But he still tried to see, a clever way of getting close to you. 

He would mumble some profanities to himself before looking down at you, the way you were staring up at him was almost.. Longingly? Swallowing roughly he would break the gaze for a moment before taking the risk and leaning in, pressing his lips roughly to yours. You would let out a small whimper but seem to lean forward, attempting to melt into his chest. This only further caused an arm to wrap around your waist as parted his own lips to take yours in his teeth, tugging on it roughly and causing you to moan out.

“What the fuck are you doing to me, idiot..” he growled out, his weight pushing forward to make you lay back on the couch. You would oblige and shake your head some, you also questioned this.. You were never the type to just dive into something like this, so what about Bakugo was different? 

Before you could really answer him, his mouth was roaming your neck, careful not to bump any of your injuries “W-Who said I wanted to do this to you” you retorted out, blinded by a hazy fog and unable to make proper words “You did.. Staring at me like that, pain in the fucking ass..” he growled, lifting his head slightly to meet your gaze “Do you want me or not, dumb ass” he hissed out, taking you into consideration. 

Blinking up at him, your face would soften.. Like you said, you never expected it to go this far, but now that it has you felt butterflies start to rise in your stomach “I do” you’d say sheepishly before biting your lip, causing Bakugo to slowly start trailing kisses along your jawline, his strong calloused hands gripping at your waist. 

Resting your head against the arm of the couch, you would blush and let out a small sigh as he explored your body. 

Your eyes would slip closed as those strong hands moved to the bountiful mounds on your chest, giving them a firm squeeze before suddenly mashing his lips up against yours again, his tongue shoving past your lips and immediately pinning yours down in dominance. You would moan into his mouth and wrap your arms around his neck as those devious hands went to the end of your shirt and started to peel it off of you.

The kiss broke for only a second so the shirt could go past your head, but as soon as the pesky piece of clothing was rid, he was back to exploring your cavern, growling into your mouth. You two would go from tongue dancing to just sloppily making out, noises rising from both of you. Breaking the kiss, he would sit down on the couch, smirking at you deviously “Come on dumb ass- hop on my lap” he ordered, taking your hand to help you stand. 

At first you seemed a little shy about it, but Bakugo was quick to grab your hips and make you straddle him, his hand going to your neck and pulling you down for another messy lip lock. Your hands would quickly grab at his shoulders, slowly moving into an embrace as you groaned quietly into the gesture. 

Before you could realize, your bra felt loose and his hands were eager to pull it off of you. Moving your arms and breaking the lock he would toss it and stare down at your breasts, his face looking surprised for a moment before a sinful smirk painted his expression. “What are you looking at” you muttered out, covering your breasts with your hands. He was quick to pry those hands off “Ah, ah.. I don’t think so princess.. Let me look at those sexy fucking tits” he growled, leaning forward and taking one of your nipples into his mouth. Letting out a loud gasp, you would let your head fall forward, nestling against his blonde tresses as his tongue skillfully circled around that sensitive bud “B-Bak-” you were cut off by him suddenly releasing your tit and glaring up at you “Katsuki” he corrected with a glare before starting to palm your mounds with his hands “If I hear you call me Bakugo one more time, I don’t care if you’re injured, you’re getting a punishment, dumb ass” he grunted before letting off a devilish smirk, his hands trailing down to your shorts to pop them open “Stand up and take those off, and make it fucking sexy” he demanded, letting go of you altogether. 

Slowly getting off of him, you would blush and stand there for a minute “I can try..” you’d mutter before hooking your thumbs through the belt loop of your jeans and shimmying them down, making sure to be a little extra with those hips of yours. It seemed that it was working, because Katsuki’s hues were glued to you the whole time “That’s right princess.. Even with a battered leg you still managed to get me hard” he teased. 

Scoffing quietly, you would cover your naked pussy and roll your eyes “W-Why do you have talk like..” you trailed off as he shrugged down his sweats, revealing that he was definitely telling the truth that her little shake had gotten him hard, because his cock was standing at full attention. “You like what you see?” he said with a smirk before offering his hand. Without word, you would take it and the male would lead you to straddle him once again, which only caused you to wince a little with how your leg was bent “Fuck, does that hurt you?” he asked quietly before moving your weight so you were laying down rather than on top of him. 

“Y-You don’t have to do that, once I sit for a minute I’ll be nnghh…” you trailed off with a moan as he began to rub his shaft into your folds, his warm cock teasingly rubbing against your clit. “That’s right princess, just shut up.. Let me take care of you” he purred out, using the pad of his thumb to reach down and pay good attention to that swollen bud, making your back arch and toes curl. 

You hadn’t experienced something like this before, yeah you’ve been with other guys.. But Katsuki managed to be so gentle with you, yet so.. Rough at the same time. Making his movements very prominent so you could feel just about everything he was doing to you, being oddly attentive to making you feel good. Your thoughts were finally cut off by his body looming over you, and his mouth finding your neck to sink his canines into, making you moan out loudly “F-Fuck.. Katsuki, you’re.. Being rude, just.. Put it in already” you’d groan.

“Mmh? Put what in princess.. I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about” he scoffed against your neck, you could practically feel the smug smirk on his features. “Y-Your cock, Katsuki, I want your cock” you’d mutter out helplessly. Those pathetic, whimpering words were all that Katsuki needed. Reaching down he would line his cock up with your hole and roughly start to inch it in, your slick making great use as a natural lube. 

Your arms would immediately grip onto his shoulders as your tight little cunt attempted desperately to stretch to his size “Ka.. suki.. Please” you’d mutter out with a gasp, only to be silenced by a rough kiss “Calm down dumb ass.. It hurts because you’re clenching on me.. Relax, princess.. I’m going to make you feel good” he grunted, though it was much softer than the others.

Taking a deep breath, you would try to relax your body and he would slowly do small thrusts, trying to get you warmed up “See?” he muttered in a shaky tone, all you could do was nod. 

He took that as permission to keep going, rearing his hips back he would thrust into your clenching cunt, causing you to moan out loudly, Your good leg would spread further for him to nestle in between and his hips would work fluently, the sounds of soft smacking filling the room “Y-You can go.. Harder” you’d pant out, looking up at him with an awkward, embarrassed smile. Katsuki would smirk and lean down, pressing his lips against your cheek “Oh, I planned on it, Princess.. Just getting you used to my fat cock” he purred.

It was after that when he reared back again and started to thrust at a fairly rough, rhythmic pace, causing your fast to twist in a pleasure you had never felt before. It was like his cock was perfectly made for your dripping sex. Long strings of mewls would escape you as the male laid claim to your pussy, his grunts and growls filling the room. At this point, you didn’t even care if Kirishima walked in on you two, you just wanted him to keep going, to fill you to the brim with his hot and sticky cum.

“You’re fucking mine now, do you hear me?.. Fuck I’m never giving up this tigh tlittle pussy to anyone” he growled, his hand wrapping lightly around your neck. Your breathing would hitch and you would stare up at him with wide eyes, the pleasure fogging any logical thought you had “Ye..s.. I’m yours, Katsuki..” you’d moan out, which caused his cock inside of you to twitch violently “That’s right, Princess.. You know who your man is now.. No more thinking about Red fucking Riot.. You’re all mine”he hummed, leaning down to bite onto your neck, which caused your walls to squeeze the life out of his cock. 

Letting your head fall to the side, you would let him mark you up as he pounded that G-Spot with incredible force. releasing your flesh he would lick up your neck slowly and let out a grunt “You better tell me now, Princess.. Can I fill up that slutty little pussy or do you want me to pull out” he huffed, slowing his thrusts only slightly “N-No! .. Don’t pull out.. I want you to fill me up, Katsuki..” you moaned out quietly. 

It must have been what he wanted to hear because his thrusts became rough again, no specific pattern or rhythm, he was all over the place and it was fucking amazing. “Get ready, Princess.. I want you to feel how badly I’ve been thinking about you, and I want to feel that cunt cum all over my cock” he growled, sitting up a bit and letting his head fall back. 

All it took was three more hard thrusts and his load was pooling out inside of your needy hole, coating the walls and making you feel warm. That was what did it for you, as you milked him, your hole would clench around him and an orgasm would rip through your body, sending jolts of white hot pleasure from head to toe. 

He would be careful of your leg, but his body was soon pressed against yours as he attempted to catch his breath “The.. party, you’re going as my date” he gruffed, which caused you to blush. As you slowly came down from your high, you would glance at the male who was staring you dead in the eye “I mean it, Y/N.. I want to take you as my date, show you off as my woman” he breathed, moving some strands of hair from your face.

At first you couldn’t answer, there was a pit in your throat stopping you to do so. Idly nodding, he would press a kiss to your cheek “I promise I’ll make it fun, after all you owned up to being a bitch so consider it a thanks for that” he snorted before pushing himself off of you and pulling up his hands. 

Carefully helping you up, he would make sure to carefully put your clothes back on for you so you didn’t hurt your leg.

“I’m taking you back to your house to get dressed and showered, okay?” he said grabbing a tank that was hanging off of his couch.

“If you’re going to a party with me, we gotta make sure you’re the sexiest thing there” he said with a dark smirk. 

You had no idea how it escalated this far, and you know you should run now .. But the man you thought you hated was slowly becoming your favorite person, he was different behind closed doors and you were more than glad that you gave it another shot. 

[[WIll do a Part Two if you guys wanna see the party part ;P ]

taglist: @hipster-merchant-of-death​ @nighthoodhawk​

Credit to my picture: Made by my lovely waifu @queensynderella​

[andawaywego]

Prompt for a bly manor fic: Your take on what happened during the 13 years jamie and dani were together

oh, anon. thank you for this. it killed me, but i managed. obviously i couldn’t include everything, but i tried to go all the way through. hopefully you like it.

                                           ____________________

It’s funny how the ache in her bones, the pull in her muscles, never seems to go away. When she was younger, she’d always thought of love as something that was finite—expiration date on the horizon, creeping closer with every kiss and touch. Something you grow out of rather than old with.

But it’s a different kind of ache with Dani. A pull forward but not away. Not into the empty future or the lonely present, but into Dani’s warmth and her arms and her acceptance.

Two years and here they are.

It’s more than she could have ever known to ask for.

The first morning in their new apartment—the one they found together—Jamie wakes up to the rosy pink light coming through the uncurtained windows. The only blanket they’d managed to find is loose and messy on top of her body and she sighs. Stretches her arms and legs out. That ache is there—that pull—but there’s another ache, also. A different kind.

Sore muscles. Overworked. Tender from strain or else Dani’s tight grip, her nails digging in.

She stares up at the ceiling for a moment, letting the memories of the night before wash over her. There are boxes stacked around them in precarious towers, and she eyes them fondly—looks at DANI BOOKS and SHEETS JAIME; their names written in thick marker on the cardboard, labeling the things they’ve brought with them. But there’s something to seeing them mixed together as they are.

Dani’s things with her things and so on and so forth.

When she turns her head, Dani is there, sleeping peacefully. It’s funny how someone who spends her days frantic with a thousand different emotions for every situation can be so still. Her hair is an absolute mess, tangled and ruffled from Jamie’s hands and the friction of the mattress. Her lips are dark pink, kiss-bruised, and there’s a love bite right beneath her collarbone.

Jamie looks her over. Smiles. Takes a deep breath as her heart and stomach do this...thing.

She wants to pull Dani closer, kiss her awake, because she misses hearing her talk, laugh, seeing her smile. And love isn’t just that pull, it’s longing for the person lying in bed beside you just because she isn’t awake yet.

So she settles for carefully scooting closer and kissing the crown of Dani’s head.

A little later, Dani will wake up and hum a good morning and run her fingers through her hair in an attempt to flatten it and Jamie will be too smitten to do anything but grin.

Another day, she thinks.

And how lucky she is for it.

.

“It really isn’t hurting that bad.”

Jamie unlocks the door to their apartment and steps inside, leaving Dani to close it behind them. She doesn’t answer.

“I mean...three stitches isn’t too terrible, right?”

Their half-made dinner is lying out on the counter still, a pot of water on the stove. Jamie takes it off and dumps it in the sink, then begins cleaning up the rest of it all.

“I can still do things at the shop.” Dani comes over and stands on the other side of the island. “I’m fine.”

Jamie turns away from her, taking a cutting board of a mostly-chopped or else bloodily diced onion to the garbage bin. She tosses it out and feels it as Dani steps closer.

“Are you really trying to give me the cold shoulder?”

Finally, Jamie turns and, throwing the cutting board down on the counter, looks up to meet Dani’s eyes. “Yes,” she says, “I am. I’m angry with you, Dani. Witness me being angry.”

She puts her hands on her hips and an image of her mother in the exact same pose—back before she’d left them—comes immediately to mind. Her arms drop back to her sides.

“It was an accident,” Dani defends. “And a little one at that. The doctor said there shouldn’t be any nerve or muscle damage.”

Jamie’s jaw drops open a little in surprise. “As if that makes it all better!” she says, a petulant twinge in her voice. “You might have been seriously hurt.”

“But I wasn’t.” She’s not yelling—no never—but she’s taken on the same tone she used to use with Miles and Flora when they wouldn’t listen. Jamie resists the urge to shrink under it. “I’m fine.”

“That’s not the point,” Jamie says firmly, eyes wild with agitation. “The point is that you weren’t be careful and you hurt yourself and you don’t even care—”

“It was an accident. It’s not like I meant to do it. Look.” She holds up her left hand to show off her heavily bandaged thumb and forefinger as she wiggles them a little. “It’s not even that big a deal.”

Beneath all that wrapping, Jamie knows that the stitches are there holding together the skin that was sliced apart by the knife Dani was using earlier. Jamie had been on pasta duty and was focused on that when she heard Dani’s quiet, “Oh,” followed by the dropping of the knife and—a little more frantically— a louder, “Crap.”

When she’d turned, all she’d seen was the cutting board covered in bright red droplets and Dani pressing paper towels to her hands over the sink. There’d been a lot of blood and Jamie has never been good with blood so, yes. Fine. Maybe she’d overreacted, but after two hours in the emergency room waiting around for someone to sew her girlfriend back together, that reaction still seems justified.

Dani smiles, trying to make the mood a little lighter, but there is still a sharp edge of panic in Jamie’s chest that hasn’t gone away and it’s making it a little hard to breathe.

“I really don’t know why you’re making this such a big deal,” Dani says, and she doesn’t mean it to come out the way it does—like Jamie is being ridiculous for caring—but it stings all the same.

And that’s when Jamie starts crying.

Really crying. Loud sobs and hot tears and her face buried in her hands as she leans back against the counter and tries to catch her breath.

Almost immediately, there are arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace, rocking her back and forth.

“Oh, Jamie,” Dani whispers against Jamie’s hair. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t mean to...God, I’m such a jerk.”

She presses a kiss to Jamie’s forehead and Jamie wraps her arms around her stomach, curling into Dani’s chest. “No, you’re right. I’m being silly,” she says, her voice cracking a little. “I just...When I saw ya’ standing there like that...and all that blood, I just—I just can’t help imagining what might have happened if it were worse. If…”

In all the time they’ve been together, they haven’t discussed what happened at Bly more than strictly necessary. Those concerns that plagued their every moment at the beginning have fallen to the wayside as they’ve built their life together. But Jamie remembers it—remembers Dani’s worry over how many days they’ll have—and now she can hardly think of anything else.

The next few minutes are filled with Dani’s quiet shushing. Saying, “I’m here,” and, “It’s okay,” while Jamie tries to calm down.

“I’m sorry I’m such a full-time job,” Dani says. “I can’t even...make dinner with you without grievously wounding myself.”

Jamie chuckles wetly against the fabric of Dani’s sweater. “No, you can’t, can you?” she whispers back. “Not sure how you ever got around without me, Poppins.” This gets her a full-on laugh and she grins at the sound, wishing she could hear it forever.

“Me neither,” Dani says. “But you’re here now, right? And so am I. And I’m okay. Temporarily a little less ambidextrous maybe. But okay.”

“You’re a bit of an idiot,” Jamie says without a hint of malice.

“But I’m your idiot,” Dani says and Jamie pulls back enough to tug her in for a kiss.

Dani cups a hand behind Jamie’s neck and deepens it, and Jamie can taste the salt of her own tears, but she just keeps kissing her back.

“I love you,” Dani whispers, pressing the words into Jamie’s lips like she’s trying to make them stay.

Jamie sighs. Kisses Dani again. “I love you, too.”

She’s alive. They both are. And that’s enough, isn’t it?

.

And it is. It’s enough for so long.

Four years in, Dani kisses her awake on Christmas morning saying, “Come on, I wanna give you your presents,” and Jamie is still half-asleep as she’s dragged to their Christmas tree in the living room. It’s a necklace with a lock on it—the kind they’d seen at a shop a few months back and laughed about for hours after, wondering why any man would think it was a good present for a woman. Dani has the one with the key on it and Jamie kisses her as they laugh, sliding her arms around Dani’s waist and practically pushing her onto the rug.

And then there is that golden afternoon with that silly plant Dani brings home a year later. The Claddagh ring and Dani holding her in a vise grip that Jamie won’t understand until much, much later.

After the proposal—after she says yes, that’s enough, yes yes—and she’s wearing her ring, Dani hovers over her in their bed, looking down at Jamie, one arm pressed to the mattress beside her head, the other hand slipping between her legs. Jamie presses her palms to Dani’s bare shoulder blades and sighs, and Dani smiles, her eyes catching the light of the sun peeking through their curtains.

“I love you,” Jamie tells her, pressing her knees to either side of Dani’s hips. “God, I love you so much.”

And Dani stops smiling. The sun leaves her eyes. In its place are tears. One of them slips free and drips down to land on Jamie’s sternum as Dani leans in and presses her face into Jamie’s neck.

Kisses the skin there. Silently sobbing. Her hand still moving a little.

“Dani,” Jamie whispers, clutching her tighter. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

After a moment, Dani pulls herself back up and presses their foreheads together, still crying. Jamie cups her face, rubbing the tears away with her thumbs and kissing Dani’s nose, her eyebrow, her chin. Anywhere she can reach.

And she knows the answer. Knows what it is. Feels it too.

That fear. That terror at the thought of losing one another. It’s ever-present, no matter how good Jamie has gotten at talking around it. It’s still there, and she watches as the what-ifs play in Dani’s eyes.

But Dani doesn’t say that exactly. Not at all, really.

She says: “I’m just really...really happy.”

Jamie doesn’t poke. She doesn’t prod. She just smiles, says, “I am, too,” and kisses Dani again and again.

.

But time moves ever on. It nips at their heels whenever they try to linger, pushing them ever forward.

It goes and goes and with it goes Jamie.

Things are good. They aren’t simple, but they are good.

Dani takes up her every moment, everywhere at once, larger than life with a smile like a sonnet and lips that write love letters everytime they find Jamie’s.

There are photographs around their apartment of the places they’ve gone. New York and California and Paris and Spain. Arms around one another. Grinning with the blue sky spinning over their heads.

Dani is still Dani. She is Jamie’s best friend, her partner, her wife.

They have date nights once a week, so regularly that the staff at all the local restaurants know them by name. Other days, they live domestically. Do laundry together. Cook together. Go to the movies. There are still so many weekends spent in bed, too.

But it slips. More and more each day. If she is Dani one moment, she is her Other the next. And there is still some of Dani inside her Other when this happens, yes, but it is dark and hidden, nothing but the echo of that light.

And yet—

Her smile is still a star in the night sky.

And it stays. At dinners, at New Year’s Party’s, on plane rides and train rides and everywhere they go. Dani here and Dani there and nine years before she cannot ignore the ache, the slice.

Cuts deeper each time. No avoiding it, she thinks. Not in the end.

But it is not the end.

Not yet.

Jamie wakes up in their bed a decade into loving Dani and she is not alone. Dani is lying beside her, hair mussed by fingers and friction. Love bites down her neck. Smiling in her sleep with eyelashes fluttering.

She isn’t surprised anymore by the devotion that runs through her veins, the same devotion that has gripped her all this time.

Dani will wake up soon, like she has every day so far, and there will be morning-breath kisses and breakfast plans scrapped in favor of staying in bed. They will say, “I love you,” on the same breath, at the same moment, and laugh at their timing, touching and knowing and remembering and it will be enough.

They will have that moment.

And there is still time for a hundred more like it.

..

[mikauzoran]

Lukadrien: Zebras Can’t Change Their Stripes: Chapter Six

Read it on AO3: Zebras Can’t Change Their Stripes: Chapter Six

When Marinette opened the apartment door, the script Luka had been practicing on the way over abruptly evaporated from his mind.

Her bloodshot, puffy eyes revealed she’d been crying lately, and the dark circles underneath them told of sleepless nights since their separation.

She looked weary and worn out but still oh so beautiful, and it made his heart ache.

“Luka?” she breathed, a flicker of light and colour coming back to her face and eyes when she realized he was really there and not just some mirage conjured by her exhaustion.

His heart crumbled as she pulled him into a tight hug, and he couldn’t fight the need to wrap his arms around her and hold her.

“…Did you change your mind?” she inquired doubtfully into his chest after nearly a solid minute had passed and she couldn’t allow herself to delude herself any longer.

He pulled away, mournfully shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I wish we could make this work, but…nothing’s changed…and I need to take care of myself. I can’t keep waiting and hoping for things to be different.”

She stepped back, looking away and crossing her arms with a tired sigh. “Okay…but let me know if you do change your mind. I can’t imagine ever stopping loving you.”

She looked back at him, meeting his eye, her own misting with tears. “I do love you, you know. It wasn’t fair for you to say that I didn’t. I can love more than one person at once. You’ve loved more than one person at a time.”

Luka winced, shrinking guiltily. “You’re right. That wasn’t fair of me, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that…but I still can’t be with someone who loves someone else more than me.”

“You are the one who decided that I love him more than you,” she replied coolly. “I’m sorry for whatever I did to make you think that, but isn’t the most important thing that I chose you? I picked you, Luka,” she stressed, a pleading note to her voice.

His gaze dropped to his feet as he muttered, “Because you couldn’t have him.”

“Because I love you and wanted to make a life together because I thought we could work,” she corrected.

He looked up at her, eyes scanning her face and seeing truth there.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I can’t change the past. I come with baggage, and if you don’t think your baggage and my baggage go together…well, I’m really, really sad about that, but it’s okay. I do love you, and I want you to be happy. I’m sad it can’t be with me, but I want you to be happy.”

Tentatively, he pulled her back into his arms. “Thank you. That means a lot to me, Chanson. I want you to be happy too…I just don’t think we can be happy together right now. I’m sorry if that’s my fault.”

She shook her head, effectively nuzzling his shoulder. “It’s not. Not totally your fault. Obviously, I’m part of the problem too.”

They stood there quietly holding one another for a minute before Marinette spoke up again. “…This sucks.”

“Yeah,” Luka chuckled tearfully. “Yeah, it does.”

“We can still be friends, though, right?” She pulled back to look up at him with desperation in her eyes. “This isn’t goodbye, is it? I don’t want to lose you, Luka.”

He gently wiped away the tears that had escaped and were making a break for it down her cheeks.

“Shh,” he soothed. “You won’t lose me. I don’t want to lose you either, Marinette. I think it’s just going to take some time before I’m okay…. I’d wanted to spend my life with you too.”

She nodded, resting her head back on his shoulder. “Okay. I guess…we’ll just see how it goes. Maybe once it stops hurting so bad, if we just act like everything’s okay, we’ll be all right again.”

“Maybe,” he sighed, pulling back. “I hope so. Right now, though, it’s just too painful to be around you. Don’t be mad if I don’t call you for a couple weeks.”

She nodded again. “All right. That’s…that’s a long time.”

He exhaled slowly, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “I think it’s going to take a long time to start to feel okay again.”

“Okay.” She blew out a long sigh, relenting and accepting that things were changing and that it was beyond her power to do anything about it. “Well…I hope things get better soon.”

“Yeah,” Luka mumbled, not so sure that was realistic.

“…So…was that what you came here to tell me, or…?” Marinette shifted awkwardly, reaching up to tuck a stray bang back behind her ear. “Did you need something?”

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry.” Luka turned around and grabbed the garbage bags full of Marinette belongings that he’d set down next to the door out in the hall. “I was cleaning the flat, and I found some of your stuff. I thought I’d better return it.”

“Oh,” Marinette replied, feeling off kilter as she accepted the bags. “Thank you.”

“I also came because…” He bit the inside of his cheek. “I need to talk to Plagg.”

She winced and shifted her weight again. “I mean, you can try, but…Plagg hasn’t been himself in years. He doesn’t like to come out of the Miracle Box, and he doesn’t like to talk.”

“He’ll want to talk to me,” Luka assured. “I have a message from Adrien for him.”

Marinette’s eyes widened, and she stepped out of the way to let Luka into the apartment. “That…may change things.”

“I hope so,” Luka sighed, running a hand through his hair as he followed Marinette up the steps to her room. “He’s not mad at Adrien for giving him up, is he?”

Marinette shook her head. “He’s mad at himself for not taking care of Adrien better.”

Luka snorted at that. “I’m sure he did his best. Plagg was the closest thing Adrien ever had to a father.”

“…How is Adrien, by the way?” Marinette inquired hesitantly, feeling somewhat better about asking now that Luka had introduced Adrien as a topic of conversation himself.

Luka exhaled slowly. “He’s…a little rough, but he’s going to be okay. He’s safe now, and things are going to get better.”

“Do you think he hates me?” she blurted out, pushing her trapdoor open and then turning around to look at Luka nervously once she was through it.

Luka rolled his eyes, brushing aside her same old fear. “Marinette, I’ve told you a dozen times that he’d never hold you getting his father arrested against you. He helped.”

“What about for keeping my identity a secret?” she pressed, needing to be sure.

Luka shook his head. “That’s probably a complicated subject that you two will have to figure out between yourselves, but he did say he wanted to get back in touch with you, so he obviously doesn’t hate you.”

She heaved an enormous sigh of relief, a hopeful smile filtering onto her lips. “Thank you, Luka.”

He returned her smile with a tired one of his own that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

He knew what would happen when Marinette and Adrien reunited. Just because Adrien wasn’t ready for any kind of relationship now didn’t change the fact that he and Marinette would end up together eventually.

And then Luka would lose them both to one another, just like he’d always feared.

“Anyway!” Marinette quickly changed the subject, heading over to her sewing box and retrieving the Miracle Box. “You’re here to see Plagg.”

She pulled out the Black Cat Miraculous and handed it to Luka. “He’ll only come out when summoned by his Miraculous, so you have to put on the ring.”

Hesitantly, Luka took the Miraculous, and it changed to resemble the silver and black ring he used to wear.

Once he slipped it on, a droopy, irritated-looking Plagg appeared in a flash of green light.

“You rang?” he grumbled, making no secret of how put out he felt.

“Hi, Plagg. I need to talk to you, if that’s okay,” Luka greeted.

“Make it quick,” the kwami snorted. “You’ve got ten seconds.”

Luka looked to Marinette. “May I speak in private with him?”

Marinette shrugged, making her way back towards the trapdoor. “I’ll be downstairs when you’re done.”

Luka waited until the door was closed behind her and he heard her footsteps fade before turning back to Plagg.

“Sorry. Adrien isn’t ready for people to know he’s back in Paris yet, so I didn’t want her to overhear,” Luka explained. “Do you want to see Adrien, Plagg? I can take you to him.”

The kwami’s ears and tail perked straight up.

“You know where he is?” Plagg demanded, buzzing around Luka’s head, flying this way and that in agitation. “Is he okay? Where is he?”

“He’s rough, but he’s safe,” Luka quelled Plagg’s fears. “He just moved in with me the other day.”

“Take me to him. Now,” Plagg commanded, a threatening edge to his words.

Luka held up his hands in a placating gesture. “He’s not ready to see you yet. He’s…”

He winced and repeated, “He’s in rough shape, Plagg. What I can do, though, is take you home with me, and you can see him from a distance until he’s ready to see you face to face again. How does that sound?”

Plagg rolled his eyes and crossed his stubby arms. “Why is he not ready to see me?”

Luka shrugged helplessly. “I’m not sure I fully understand it myself. I asked him if he wanted me to go get you, and it looked like he wanted to say yes, but he said no, that he wasn’t ready to face you. He also said something about not feeling worthy of having a Miraculous.”

Plagg snorted hotly at that. “This is all That Man’s fault. He never treated Adrien right. He did everything in his power to erode Adrien’s self-confidence.”

Luka nodded, commiserating. “I’m going to try my best to help with that, but Adrien’s been through a lot, and he just needs a little time before you two are reunited.”

“Fine,” Plagg decided. “I don’t care. I just need to see him for myself and make sure he’s okay.” His voice softened as he added, “…He wasn’t okay last time I saw him.”

Luka nodded sympathetically.

“Take me to him,” Plagg repeated with an air of certainty.

“Okay,” Luka breathed. “Now, I just have to figure out what to tell Marinette.”

Plagg rolled his eyes and waved Luka’s concern away. “I’ll explain it to her.”

To Plagg’s credit, when they went downstairs to confront Marinette, he simply informed her, “I’m going with him.”

Marinette blinked in confusion for almost a solid minute but eventually shrugged. “Okay. Be good, though. Don’t cause Luka problems.”

“I never cause problems,” Plagg insisted.

“My dinosaurs,” Tikki peeked her head out to hiss.

“They had it coming,” Plagg replied, easily shrugging it off.

Tikki let out a bellicose scream and launched herself at Plagg, beginning to chase him around the room as he cackled.

“Wait,” Luka interrupted. “What do you mean ‘okay’? You’re just letting me take Plagg?”

Marinette gave her ex a watery smile, pointedly ignoring the frolicking kwamis. “He’s been moping for years now. He clearly wants to go with you. Why would I stop him?”

“This is why she’s the best Guardian ever,” Plagg praised, flying over to give Marinette’s cheek a sloppy lick.

“Plagg,” Marinette scolded through a shriek of laughter.

“She is the best, isn’t she?” Tikki cooed, perching on Marinette’s shoulder and smiling warmly to see her other half acting like himself again.

Luka almost agreed, but he caught himself. “…Well. I have to get going, but thank you so much. And thank you for trusting me with Plagg. Take care of yourself, Chanson.”

“You too, Bluebird.” She leaned in, giving him an air kiss to either side of his face. “I hope I hear from you soon.”

 Once in his car, Luka texted Adrien that he was heading home and informed Plagg that Nino was there and had just had his reunion with Adrien.

He spent the entire drive white-knuckling the steering wheel as Plagg flitted energetically about the vehicle.

“You’re going to make me crash,” Luka sighed when they stopped at a light. “Could you please take a seat?”

Luka wasn’t sure if it were better or worse when Plagg landed on top of his head, but he decided to refrain from commenting.

 Nino and Adrien were sprawled on the couch when Luka returned to the apartment, their limbs intertwined in a way that made a flame of jealousy flicker to life in Luka’s chest.

Nino was showing Adrien pictures on his phone while telling Adrien anecdotes that made Adrien laugh so hard he had to lean on Nino for support.

The laughter faded when Luka opened the door.

“Nino, why don’t you head on in to my room and get comfortable?” Adrien suggested, disentangling himself from his friend and getting to his feet to go to Luka.

Nino gave a salute and promptly made himself scarce.

“Hey,” Adrien nervously greeted, coming to stand awkwardly in front of Luka, rocking back and forth from the balls of his feet onto his heels.

“Hey?” Luka responded uncertainly. “Everything okay? You having fun catching up with Nino?”

Adrien nodded vehemently. “Oh, yeah. Yeah. No. It’s great. Everything’s great. I just…are you okay?”

Luka blinked, taken aback by the question. “Uh…yeah. Why do you ask?”

Adrien bit his bottom lip. “I saw that you took some of your ex-girlfriend’s stuff with you. Did you go see her? Are you okay?”

Luka’s mouth rounded into a little “o” of surprise. “Um…yes. Yes, I did see her. It…went well, actually.”

Adrien’s shifty attitude immediately evaporated, and a soft smile spread across his lips. “Oh, good. I’m really glad to hear that. And how are you feeling?”

“Tired,” Luka replied honestly with a shrug and a sigh. “Sad. Relieved. Like I’m making a huge mistake…. It was good that I saw her and talked to her, though.”

“Good,” Adrien repeated, pulling Luka into a bolstering hug. “I’m so proud of you. That was really brave, and I’m glad it went well.”

Luka softened into Adrien’s embrace, letting himself enjoy it. “Thank you, P5.”

He kept to himself the fact that he’d only been able to do it because he’d been doing it for Adrien.

He gave Adrien a squeeze and then pulled back. “I’m kind of wiped, so I’m going to my room to rest. Let me know if you need anything, but you and Nino have a good time, okay?”

“Will do,” Adrien assured with a brilliant grin reminiscent of a young child heading out to the park to play. “I’m making chocolate cheesecake in the rice cooker at the moment, and it should be done in about an hour. Do you want me to let you know when it’s ready?”

“Uh… Sure,” Luka agreed, reasoning that Plagg would probably enjoy a slice, even if Luka didn’t particularly feel like dessert. “Thanks, Adrien.”

“Sure thing.” Adrien gave another bright smile before heading to his room after Nino.

 “He’s not eating enough cheese,” Plagg bemoaned once they were sequestered in the privacy of Luka’s room. “He’s so skinny!”

“Don’t worry,” Luka coaxed, tentatively reaching out to scratch behind Plagg’s ear like he’d seen Adrien do in the past. “He’s only been here a day. He’ll fill out with time now that he has a secure source of food. I’ll make sure he eats.”

“You’d better,” Plagg threatened even as he accepted the scritches.

 Plagg managed to go a little over twenty-four hours before outing himself.

He kept hidden while Nino was over and all during the next day, even through band rehearsal.

He woke up in the early hours of the morning his second night in the apartment and phased through the walls of Luka’s room and the intervening bathroom in order to check on Adrien.

His kitten was shifting in his sleep, muttering as he dreamed. He clutched a black cat plushie to his chest that reminded Plagg of the one Adrien had had from childhood and kept in his room back at the Agreste Mansion.

A sad smile tugged at the corners of Plagg’s mouth as a warm feeling welled up in his chest.

He didn’t see the harm in flying in for a closer look…until Adrien blinked his bleary eyes open.

“Plagg?” he asked sleepily reaching out and gently shepherding the kwami in to rest on Adrien’s chest next to the stuffed animal.

“I miss you,” he mumbled as he drifted back to sleep.

“Oh, Adrien,” Plagg whispered, getting choked up despite himself. “I missed you too.”

He gave Adrien’s chest a nuzzle, making Adrien spring back out of the bed and onto the floor with a yelp, suddenly wide awake.

Plagg floated over to peer over the edge of the bed, lime green eyes glowing in the dark. “You okay, Kid?”

“Plagg?!” Adrien gaped up at the kwami before looking around, taking in his surroundings and trying to ground himself. “Is this real?”

Plagg nodded sheepishly, beginning to come up with excuses to tell Luka as to how he’d gotten caught. “I’m as real as you are.”

“Oh my gosh…Plagg!” Adrien scrambled to his feet, scooping up his kwami and bringing him up to his face to nuzzle even as tears started to stream down his cheeks.

“Plagg, I’m so, so sorry. I never should have thrown you away like that. I don’t know if you can ever forgive him, but I’m sorry. I regretted it instantly, and there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t wish I could take it back,” Adrien insisted desperately, the words coming out of his mouth as hard and fast as his tears.

Plagg reached out and put a paw over Adrien’s lips, lightly chiding, “Kid…it’s okay.”

Adrien shook his head. “It wasn’t okay. Plagg, nothing’s been okay these past four years.”

Plagg arched an eyebrow. “Are you still a drama queen, or how worried do I need to be about you exactly?”

A bashful smile peeked out behind Adrien’s distress as he admitted, “Okay. Maybe I’m being a little overdramatic, but…things have been really bad, Plagg. Some days I was glad I was all alone in the world because I didn’t think I could bear for anyone to see what had become of me.”

“Oh, Adrien,” Plagg cooed, flying up to nestle in Adrien’s hair and starting to purr soothingly. “I screwed up too.”

“What?” Adrien breathed, trying to look up and see Plagg’s expression.

“If you ever tell anyone about this, I’ll deny it, but you have to know that I screwed up too,” Plagg repeated, gently stroking Adrien’s hair. “Nothing that happened was just your fault…so I’m sorry too. I’m sorry I let you down.”

“You didn’t,” Adrien protested, getting back up into bed and fishing Plagg out of his hair.

“I did,” Plagg insisted wearily, not fighting as Adrien brought Plagg to his chest to cuddle. “…but let’s not play the blame game, okay? We can’t change what happened, after all.”

“Yeah,” Adrien sighed, settling back in. “I guess you’re right…but…you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” Plagg snorted. “Do you forgive me?”

“I never held anything against you,” Adrien scoffed.

“All right, then,” Plagg declared with finality.

“All right, then,” Adrien agreed softly, a tired smile spreading across his lips.

There was a beat of comfortable silence before Adrien broke it, demanding, “…How did you even get here? Did…?”

Adrien shook his head. “Luka went and got you for me.”

“Luka came and picked me up,” Plagg affirmed, nuzzling Adrien’s chest. “He’s too boring and mellow to be my holder, but he’s a good guy. Definitely one of Sass’s, but…I’m glad you ended up with him to look out for you.”

“I got lucky,” Adrien admitted. “I got really, really lucky running into him…and I think he’s lucky he ran into me too.”

“Well, duh, but how do you figure exactly?” Plagg hummed, looking up quizzically at Adrien.

“He’s going through a rough breakup right now,” Adrien informed, a cloudy expression rolling onto his face. “He could use someone to look out for him too…and I’m much more capable than I was when you last saw me,” Adrien rushed to assure. “I can do all kinds of things now like cook and clean and fix things.”

Plagg nodded. “I know you’ve gained some new skills. I had some of that chocolate cheesecake you made, and it was exquisite.”

“Yeah?” Adrien chuckled, a pleased blushing rising in his cheeks.

“Yeah,” Plagg confirmed softly. “…I’m proud of you, Adrien.”

Adrien drew in a quiet gasp, eyes going wide even as they started to mist over. “You are?”

Plagg nodded, flying up to pat Adrien on the head. “I’ve always been really proud of you. I’m sorry I never told you that.”

Adrien scooped Plagg up and cradled him to his chest again, needing the contact. “Thank you. That makes me really happy to hear that. I didn’t think anyone ever was, no matter how hard I tried to be perfect.”

Plagg mentally kicked himself (not for the first or last time) for always being so tsundere and aloof with Adrien.

In a feeble attempt to start making up for lost time, Plagg gave Adrien’s chest another nuzzle and started another round of purring.

“…I love you, Plagg,” Adrien whispered, giving a weak purr in return.

“I love you too, Adrien,” Plagg confessed, dropping all pretenses. “I really missed you.”

“I’m sorry I can’t buy you expensive Camembert anymore,” Adrien choked through laughter and tears.

Plagg scoffed. “It was never about the Camembert.”

“Part of me knew that, but it’s nice to hear you say it out loud,” Adrien admitted with a lopsided grin.

“Don’t get used to it,” Plagg grumbled, the embarrassment of admitting to having feelings finally catching up with him.

Adrien smiled wider and began to scratch between Plagg’s ears. “It’s a good thing Luka is rich now. He can buy you the kind of cheese you’re used to.”

“I’d eat cheap, sliced cheese if it meant I could be with you again,” Plagg muttered. “Never disappear like that on me again.”

“I won’t,” Adrien promised. “I’m sorry, Plagg.”

“Yeah,” Plagg sighed. “Me too. Now, go to sleep. You look all sickly; you need your rest.”

“Night, night,” Adrien whispered, closing his eyes and drifting off as he petted from the top of Plagg’s head down his back rhythmically, over and over until he fell back asleep.

 The next morning, he woke up early and relished the feeling of Plagg curled up in his hair while Adrien made breakfast.

Having his kwami back by his side made him feel more like himself than he had in years.

When Luka emerged from his room looking like a zombie, Adrien sprinted to Luka’s side and threw his arms around him.

“You’re the absolute best, and I can’t tell you how much I love you for going and getting Plagg back for me,” he gushed into Luka’s shoulder. “Thank you, Orpheus.”

Luka returned the hug and then pulled back with a tired smile. “You’re very welcome. I’m glad I could help make you so happy.”

He removed the ring from his finger and reached out for Adrien’s hand, slipping the Miraculous onto Adrien’s right ring finger.

“There,” Luka decreed as he surveyed his work. “Back where it belongs.”

“I won’t throw it away twice,” Adrien swore, eyes shining with gratitude. “Thank you for bringing Plagg back to me. I’ll never forget this. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you, but…I won’t forget everything you’ve done for me.”

Luka reached out and ruffled Adrien’s hair with a fond smile. “Don’t mention it, Perfect Fifth…but if you share some of whatever you’re cooking with me, we can call it even.”

Adrien rolled his eyes. “I made enough for the both of us to start with.”

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” Luka chuckled as Adrien tugged him over to the kitchen. “You’re a godsend.”

A grin of pride quickly spread across Adrien’s lips, and a pleased blush dotted his cheeks with colour.

“I’m glad you think so. Keep reminding me, okay?” he chuckled.

Plagg, meanwhile, rolled his eyes, muttering, “Not this mutual pining garbage again,” as he dug into his all-cheese omelet.

[petri808]

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30-Epilogue

*Trigger warning- panic attack. The next 4 chapters will stay completely angsty as well, but I swear the ride will get us to a happy ending. Due to feedback, I agree that I need to show the trauma and progression to heal.

Thank you to @mcornilliac​ for your invaluable input, it’s really gonna help bring the story fully to life :) 

“Lucy, baby,” Natsu’s hand squeezed harder. “You gotta calm down.”

“Ma’am... ma’am,” the EMT snapped his fingers in front of Lucy’s face. “Ma’am, I need you to focus on me. Can you focus on me?”

Their words were just muffled static, barely any tone and definitely not comprehensible to Lucy for there was too much competition vying for attention flowing through her mind. It felt like standing in a rapid wave break of constant ebb and flow but pounding against her prone body flattened into the shoreline. The thoughts raced so quickly, screaming, with only the harshest words coming through like a foghorn in the blackest night. Death. Pain. Blood. Anger, along with the emotional turmoil that came with them. Each rushing wave of anxiety fueled irrational thought after thought. ‘Stupid, stupid girl! Such a selfish fool! This was your fault for stealing away someone else’s love, a fantasy home wrecker! Fuck that! Natsu was mine fair and square, damn it! I deserved Natsu just as much and he loved me! Not Touka! Me!!!’ Lucy’s mind screamed, but the stares ate away... All those eyes judging her as they took that walk of shame. The authorities, the neighbors, heaven help her the talk that’s bound to get around. Will there be whispered, and hushed tones muttered around her, bearing down with all the weight of a thousand gravitational forces?! It was too much! Too mu—

“Oww!!” Lucy screamed and yanked her hand back, as she felt a sharp stab on the back of her hand. “What the fuck did you do that for?!” She glared at the EMT while rubbing and nursing the angry red spot. Whatever the man had done had hurt, but aside from the pain, nothing broke through the skin.

Without missing a beat, the EMT merely retook Lucy’s hand and placed two fingers over the pulse point in her wrist. “Can you tell me your name?” He questioned, speaking in a soft tone.

“Of course, I can! It’s Lucy Heartfilia!”

“Mmhmm,” he uttered in response. His eyes stayed trained on his own watch. “Do you know where you are?”

“In a fucking ambulance!”

“And who’s the current prime minister?”

“Huh? Um,” she paused with her head slightly tilted, “it was Abe, but I don’t remember the new guys name.”

“Close enough. Your pulse is still high, but it’s coming down now.” The EMT let go of Lucy’s hand, talking as he continued working on things. “I’m sorry to use such a technique, but when a person is in a panic attack, we need to snap them out of it as quickly as possible to keep it from escalating. Basically, during an attack your mind goes on overload, but physical stimulation can halt it. Shocks, if you will, to snap your focus away from cognitive thoughts back to the physical reality. The questions were to check if your cognitive focus had returned.”

“Oh...” was all Lucy could respond with to all the jargon. She hadn’t even realized she was having a panic attack. “T-Thank you...” But she wondered for a moment, just some physical pain could stop all those bad thoughts? It was something she’d never known before.

“You’re welcome. There are other methods including those you can administer to yourself at the immediate onset, so I suggest you look into them in case of another attack.”

“You think she’ll have more?” Natsu questioned with an obvious mix of concern and curiosity. The whole thing happened so quickly, that by the time he’d registered how bad it was, he couldn’t even react to a stranger stabbing a pen into his girlfriend’s hand. He was annoyed but glad this EMT was able to stay completely focused and calm.

“Traumatic events can cause a lot of emotional reactions including panic attacks. So, it’s a good idea to be prepared just in case.” The EMT now injected her arm, explaining as he went. “This is a mild sedative just to help you relax.”

By the time they’d reached the hospital, the sedative was taking effect and Lucy struggled to keep her eyes open. The level of exhaustion blindsided them both. Physically exhausted as if she’d run a marathon and emotionally drained. The closest she could rationalize it to was studying for the college entrance exam and how tired she’d been once it was over. So, she sat quietly as the medical personnel double checked her wounds, but too dazed to pay attention when they were giving her aftercare instructions. Thank goodness for Levy who’d been waiting as soon as they’d arrived. The woman handled a lot of the talking for Lucy and Natsu, but Natsu himself was being worked on next to Lucy. His wounds were cleaned up better so they could get a closer look.

The doctors inform Lucy she’s free to go but Natsu would have to stay so they could run X-rays. She wanted to fight to stay because right now he was the closest thing to security she had but could barely focus. With some gentle coaxing from both Natsu and Levy, and reminders that Touka wasn’t getting out of jail, Lucy eventually relents. A police officer would be escorting the women back to their apartment.

“Just try to get some sleep, please,” Natsu kissed his girlfriend. “I promise to call you as soon as I can, but I might pass out as soon as I hit my bed.” He wanted to be honest with her but assuring at the same time.

“O-Okay,” she nodded slowly, glassy eyed from exhaustion and sadness. “I understand.”

He leaned his head to her forehead while cupping the back of her neck. “We’re gonna be okay, Lucy. We’re gonna get through this, and I’ll be there for you no matter how long it takes.”

That pulls a few sniffles out of the woman who closes her eyes. “I love you, Natsu.”

“I love you too, Lucy.” He sits back up. “Now promise me you’ll get some sleep?” She nodded. Natsu smiled. “That’s my girl.”

Gray arrived shortly after the two women left for the night to keep his friend company and help him get home. Natsu wasn’t keeping track of time, but it sure felt like this was taking forever. The police had taken both he and Lucy’s phones for evidence, so he had nothing to pass the time with. Luckily, there wasn’t a lot of downtime between treatments. After the X-ray, the doctors sedated him and sewed up the wounds on his cheek and abdomen. It took both internal and external sutures, but luckily the side wound didn’t hit anything major. According to the doctor, the knife had missed the large intestine by a centimeter. He’ll be left with nasty scars for life, but a life is one he’ll at least have.

“You okay, man?” Gray questioned.

“Just tired and sore,” Natsu sighed. Now that Lucy wasn’t there, he let his body and mind fully register all the physical pain he was going through. “I just wanna fall into my bed.”

The doctors told Natsu, he should fully heal in about six to eight weeks, pending he keep the wound clean, keep his health up, and above all did nothing to aggravate it. So much for working, but he was sure that Makarov will make an exception. Maybe put him on register, light stocking, and inventory with no heavy lifting. As for how bad the scars will be, only time will tell. Plastic surgery might help, but that costs money. In a fleeting thought, Natsu worried that Lucy would leave him over it. ‘No way, she’s not vain like that... although the reminder it gives might be the problem...’ he quickly dismissed the notion from conscious thought, even though it lingered in the background. It would certainly hurt if she did, but could he really blame her? To be reminded of the night she almost died every time she looked at him? Natsu wanted to believe that Lucy was strong enough to get through this, and regardless if things eventually didn’t work out between them, he’d never stop trying to help her. He owed her that much for putting her in this situation. Well... that wasn’t fair, he couldn’t have foreseen Touka’s behavior, but it didn’t make him feel any less guilty for it.

“We’re here.”

Grays voice snapped Natsu out of his thoughts. He looked out of the taxi window to see the front of their apartment building. “Oh, right.” He was so ready to clean up and sleep.

Inside their apartment, Natsu took a shower, and Gray helped him to re-bandage his wounds. The warm water and sensation of being clean helped him to feel a little better, at least physically, even though the emotional turmoil still churned. But as he laid in bed, the exhaustion was swiftly taking over. There was so much to do. Replace their phones, the official police interview, notifying their jobs and schools to make sure they wouldn’t fall behind. Even the EMT’s comment was nagging at him, so note to self, call the shrink in the morning... well, as soon as he woke up anyways. By the time his eyes were shuttering closed, the early breach of dawn had made its calling. It was a new day and all Natsu could hope was to start anew.

[ninnodesu]

The New Matriarch, ch 3.

Tw: - Mentions of sexual abuse/rape - Memories of sexual abuse/rape

Thomas B. Hewitt.

“Mama!”, Charlie’s voice rings out in the giant house. “Mama, where you at? We need your help here!”.

On his way in Thomas shoos some piglets away with his foot as he walks into one of the seating areas where an empty couch sat before putting the strange woman down on it, careful as to not wake her up. “What are you yellin’ about, Charlie?”, their mother walks in but stops dead in her tracks when Thomas turns to her and reveals the sleeping woman on the couch. “Oh my goodness!”, she rushes over to the couch and gently puts her hand on the sleeping girl’s forehead, almost shoving Thomas out of the way making him wobble slightly as he’s caught off guard at his mother’s sudden actions.

“Who’s this?”, her eyes darted between the men standing there dumbfounded. Thomas just shrugs, brows knitting together while looking at her sleeping face before he remembers that she screamed and gripped her shoulder before he carried her in. He kneels next to her head and slowly lifts her up to look for a wound. When he finds it, he nudges his mother and grunts towards it.

“She’s hurt! Charlie, make yourself useful and go grab a towel and some water, boy.” She turns to Thomas. “And you, go grab your sewing supplies! This looks like it needs stitches.”

He nods and gets up, quickly walking over to his corner of the downstairs area where his sewing machine and sewing whatnots is housed. He works in silence, completely zoned out and deep in concentration, his family’s voices but a blurred sound. He fish the bullet out, which he just throws into some dark corner of the room and proceeds to stitch the wound up. Sure, his fingers are massive - like the rest of him - but his touch is delicate, his stitching is neat and thorough. He’s always like working with his hands, it was probably just by chance that he happened to be good at sewing.

That night he decides to keep a close eye on her, moving one of the lounge chairs over to sit in her vicinity. Sleeping people are easier to interact with, he doesn’t have to do much close to them. It’s the awake ones he - usually - has a problem with, except for when this one came running to him.

Usually, people tend to walk away from him, not run towards him. Not cling to his legs, not shaking and hiding behind him. They hide from him. He’s the problem most of the time, not some kind of… savior. He reclines in the chair, leaning his head back, tilting it slightly.

Who are you?

“So.”, Thomas jumps as he hears Charlie's voice at the door. “You’re just gonna’ be a creep and watch’er, aint ya?”, Charlie chuckles as he leans on the door frame. “Never thought ya’ was gonna’ be a creeper, Tommy”, he clicks his tongue before giving one of his crooked sneers..

Thomas rolls his head towards Charlie and just glares at him until he leaves to the porch, probably to drink and harass their uncle, then he just grunts in annoyance and rolls his head back towards the girl.

I’m just keeping an eye on her, ya dumbass. Again, he snorts at his own joke. At least I think I’m hilarious.

As he sits there, having his own inner conversations with himself about nothing in particular, his thoughts start to wander. Thoughts about how she didn’t recognize him, everyone around these parts knows him. He’s the monster , the big nasty man, the diseased freak . But she didn’t care, she clung to him. Like she would float out to sea if she let go of him. Thinking back to earlier, his heart flutters oh so slightly.

Why…?

A huff later and he’s kicked his boots off and laid his feet up on the couch the girl is sleeping on, a long quiet and tired moan escapes his lips as he just slides down the lounge chair. Crossing his arms he leans his head down on his shoulder and just watches her. Watching her relaxed face, tracing the shape of her nose, her slightly parted lips and the way her messy hair falls over her neck. She looks peaceful, the way her chest rises and falls in a calm rhythmic way. It’s when he lazily watches the movement of her chest he feels his own eyes start to feel heavy.

One loud snore is all it takes for him to wake himself up with a jolt which makes one of his heavy feet to slip off the couch and slam onto the floor with a loud thud , he slowly pushes himself up in the seat as he’s laying more on the floor than across his chair and the couch at this point.

Shit…, he stills as he sees her stir a bit on the couch, small sleeping mumbled words escaping as she turns to the side, he lets a breath out that he’d been holding and hangs his head.

Don’t wake up, please, don’t wake up…, he’s suddenly really afraid that she will. Every shred of bravery after what happened at the barn went out the window the moment he got left alone with her. Outside, it’s pitch black.

Must be late. His eyes start searching the room for the clock. 1:45 AM. Even if he’s really tired, even if his work is most likely going to suffer the next day and even if he’s starting to feel nervous about a stranger in his home, he’s determined to stay up to make sure she doesn’t wake up alone. He’s woken up alone and scared too many times through his teenage years, especially when his nose started to fall apart. And even if he doesn’t know her or even as little as just her name, he doesn’t want her to experience the same fear he did.

I need air, I need something to keep awake. His knees crack slightly as he decides to sneak out on the porch, he glances at his boots but decides to ditch them.

The screen door squeaks lightly as he steps out to plant himself on one of the benches, the board bending at his weight. He leans back and sprawls his legs out in front of him, letting his hands flop down on his thighs.

What have you gotten yourself into, Tommy? You know this was a stupid idea. He sighs and rubs his hands over his masked face. You can’t talk to her, and even if you could, she would just run at the sight of you. Besides, there's barely any food as is. Closing his eyes, he decides to just enjoy the silence and occasional chirp of a grasshopper or fox screaming somewhere in the forest before he has to prepare for work.

He’s awoken just as the sun rises by his mother tapping him on the shoulder. “Tommy, ya' can’t be sleepin' on the porch like that. Come on.” He just nods and follows her inside. “Ya' need to put 'er in a bed”, she orders him motioning to the sleeping girl.

Thomas looks at his mother and raises an eyebrow. A bed? We have extra beds?

Almost as she is - actually - able to read his mind, she shakes her head and turns to show him. “Come on, pick 'er up and I’ll show ya'.”, he looks over at the girl and hesitates at first, fingers twitching nervously. “Thomas Brown Hewitt.”, he flinches. He knows she’s serious when she uses his full name and he nods again.

On the second floor his mama unlocks one of the doors that opens up to a small bedroom, or… a big closet, he’s not entirely sure how to categorize it, but it has a bed, a mirror and a small dresser, although the dresser looks more or less like fire wood. He’s seen the door, sure, but honestly never really bothered much since he’s spent more or less all his life in either his room or in the basement.

He grunts and nods towards the bedroom with a raised eyebrow.

In here?, and continue in when his mother nods.

“I made the bed after I saw you fell asleep watchin’ her.” she whispers while pulling the covers off the bed so he can put her on it. “But,ya' need to head off to the slaughterhouse, and she needs sleep.” He looks between his mama and the girl with a frown. “Tommy, you can’t be at home watchin’ this little lady when you have work to do.”, she tells him with her stern motherly voice before turning to leave.

“Besides…”, he looks at her and raises his eyebrow, asking the obvious non-verbal question.

Besides what?

“We need extra if we gonna’ look after ‘er for a while.”, the answer is simple, on point. But has something to it. He hears it, but doesn't follow what she means. So he nodded, and let out a small “Mmh.”

Just before he closes the door he catches one last look at her while his mother has her back turned, brows furrowing when he feels a slight tinge of worry pick in his stomach.

I’ll be back later, I promise.

The door clicks shut and he heads downstairs, pulls his boots on and with a heaving sigh sets off to the place he both likes - and dislikes - at the same time.

The slaughterhouse.

As the giant building comes into view his mood becomes worse and worse. His chest shrinks, shoulders tense and his hands fists at his sides. He never really liked being here, not fully, only reasons for going being his family, and it’s a good place to let off some steam. But it’s also the place where the majority of his school yard bullies followed him. Even here he had to hear their voices behind his back, and all he wanted when he did was to go home and shut himself in his room. Or basement. Wherever he could hide from the world. Inside, it’s empty. He’s always the first one to enter and last one to leave, the hardest worker of them all, and probably the only thing in his entire life he actually took pride in. The fact that he was a hard worker. But they don’t care, no one ever truly does. Well, except his family of course.

He scratches his neck before putting his apron on and readjust his mask before he heads off to his little corner of the butcher floor. I was right, I am sore as all hell today. , he thinks while rolling his shoulders trying to wake tired and sore muscles up. I shouldn’t have fallen asleep on the porch… , he grunts and snarls at his poor choice of sleeping place.

The day goes by at a snail's pace. Countless jokes and laughing directed at him. Snears and hard dunks at his back as an awful attempt at “We’re just messing with you, big man. Relax, jeez” as they continue using him as some kind of comic relief. He hates it when they comment on his build. When he hears them call him “big” or anything relating to his height. When they say it, it never comes from a place of admiration, or as something positive. It’s only meant to ridicule him. He knows he’s huge, a monster. He’s heard it before, all his life.

I'm nothing more than an… an animal.

He’s also fully aware of his own strength. He can break these people's bones with his hands if he wants to. And by god, did he want to at times. Some days he wanted nothing more than to squeeze the next hand that dunked his back until he heard and felt it crack under his fingers. But he never does. He has way too much to lose to mess with people at work.

When he finally arrives home, the house is empty. Charlie and his mother might still be out, possibly off to try and sell some stuff she found after he cleared the barn, before… she showed up. He’s angry, balancing dangerously close to furious and his footsteps are loud.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. That one creaky step on the stairs scream when his angry foot lands on it. This time, he’s fairly certain a huge part of it got loose in the crawl space underneath. Finally reaching his room, he slams his door shut, momentarily forgetting about the sleeping stranger down the hall, the slam being hard enough to elicit a cracking sound, that crack is all he needs to cross the line between angry and furious. He looks back to make sure he didn’t break another thing due to his strength, before pacing back and forth trying to calm himself down.

Just… Leave me ALONE!, he growls as he fists his hands and gently smacks his head to try and silent every and any bad thought that flows his mind. His chest is heaving.

I just want to do my goddamn WORK, you ASSHOLES! In one swift motion he sweeps his arms across his desk to throw every trinket that rests on it down on the floor to try and sate his rage.

It doesn’t take long after the poor subjects of his rage have quiet down in their rolling and clinking, him just standing there, his mask amplifying his breathing, before the sound of a door opening reaches his ears.

Ssh… it., is all he manages to think when he freezes. And she is slowly inched back into his memories, his eyes widening when he realizes one simple thing. I woke her.

He just stares at his own door, eyes wide in horror as if she was some kind of vicious predator coming to end his own life. Not even sure what to do when he hears a small voice ring out.

“H...ello?”

You

You wake with a jolt after hearing a loud slam somewhere. Your head hurts, your shoulder hurts and you have this creeping ache in your stomach that tells you; You. Are. Starving. “Ow…”, you rub your temple before rubbing your eyes awake. Looking around, you’re in a room. On a bed . At first, you’re scared again. This isn’t the Box, where are you? What was that sound? What room is this? Your mind is blank.

“Where am I?”, you shock yourself a bit when you actually clearly hear your own voice, almost as if you’ve forgotten what it sounded like. Someone had given you water. Your captors did let you drink, but only when you’ve been good enough for them. Only when they decided you had earned a reward. After sitting up for a few minutes just looking around the strange room, you decide to try and stand up on your aching legs.

You groan as you stand, your legs are wobbly and you have to support yourself on the nearest wall to regain your balance. Jesus. My legs are so sore, and my feet hurt. You take an experimental step and despite the soreness you manage to keep your weight up. As you shuffle your way around the small room you see a mirror, a dirty and grimy one, but a mirror nonetheless. Stepping up to it and cleaning it to the best of your abilities with your own half-dirty hand, you’re not sure how to react when you see yourself. You can’t fully remember the last time you saw your own reflection clearly like this.

Your hair is long, dirty, full of knots and a murkier version of your natural hair. Your eyes were still slightly swollen, and puffy, the color of them a contrast to the red. You were still wearing that makeshift “dress” made of scraps of several potato sacks. A horrible attempt at covering yourself up during nights when the Box was cold. Over your shoulder and down around your chest you see something graying white with specks of dried crimson and you tilt your head in curiosity.

“Is that… a bandage?”, you pull your dress down to look at the strange piece of fabric wrapped tightly, but somewhat sloppy, around your shoulder more clearly. “Who did this?”

Suddenly, the sound of several small objects flying across the floor reaches your ears, and you jump. Then, silence falls again.

You pull the dress pack in place and turn towards the door in fear, your body tenses and your breathing becomes heavier as all you do is wait for it to burst open. Your mind gets ready for a new awful hour of being rented out like some kind of object, something to be used and then forgotten about in the Box. Even if you can’t fully remember what has happened, your mind only gives you glimpses of you running, looking down the barrel of a gun and… and… a man, you can still feel a creeping anxiety in the pit of your stomach, your nerves are still on alert mode. But nothing happens, no one is coming to drag you away. There’s no voices calling out to that “stupid bitch”, there’s nothing but silence.

After what feels like hours you decide to make a move and start shuffling towards the door. Only dragging your feet in fear that the floor might creak loudly and announce your present to people. You’re scared, but you still want to try the door.

If I’m not tied down, the door has to be locked. But it’s not. The door is unlocked, and you’re not tied down.

Outside, it’s still. The only sound being a small rhythmic tapping sound coming from downstairs. You sneak out as silent as a cat would when sneaking on a prey.

“H...ello?”, you try. No reply. All you can see looking down the hallway are closed doors. Looking around the empty, silent hallway you sneak out, curiosity picking in your mind. You don’t recognise this house, it doesn’t look like any house you’ve been in when you were rented out. It doesn’t have the same lingering feeling of dread or force. It feels… homely.

Going down the hallway you notice pictures on one of the bookshelves and you stop in front of them to look, to try and piece something together as to who lives here. One photograph catches your eyes and you pick it up, examining it further. It’s a picture of a young boy in a striped t-shirt. His hair is dark but his face is covered up by a pair of older hands.

Why would you cover a small kid’s face like that?, you think and shake your head as you put it back.

Shuffling away from the bookshelf you creep towards the stairs, the steps are cool under your feet, in contrast to the warm rug laid out on the second floor. You wince when you accidentally step a bit harsh on one of your wounds. One step creaks loudly and your heart jumps thinking it’ll break, unbeknownst to you how it manages to hold the weight of a 200 lb behemoth of a man and won’t break under your feather light steps.

Just the same as the top floor, the main floor is empty. Only living things here are the piglets, and even those are sleeping in random places around the living room, gentle snoring coming from them. A sound you can’t help but to giggle at.

You’re not entirely sure what to do. You seem to be completely alone in this huge house. Your stomach starts cramping and rumbles again.

I hope they don’t mind if I borrow some food, you think to yourself as you make your way around the house, trying to find the kitchen.  What strikes you first is a smell. A smell of uncleanliness. It’s filthy, dirt everywhere. Mason Jars caked with either dust or moldy food. The fridge is just as gross as the rest of the kitchen, smell even worse in that, and it’s mostly empty.

You sigh. “I guess they don’t own much”, you mumble to, as far as you’re concerned, no one at all and close the fridge to proceed to just… stand there. Alone, in a strange family’s kitchen.

Thomas B. Hewitt.

Footsteps. They’re low, but years of bullying has made him hyper aware and vigilant to any and all noises, and he recognizes how the floorboards creak when someone steps on them. He’s learned the pattern

What should I do?, he doesn’t know how to handle strange people. Strangers make him nervous and it’s not like he can knock her out again to make her go back to sleep so he can function. Out of nervous habit he raises his hands and starts fiddling with his fingers, staying put like an unmovable statue. Him, the behemoth they call Tommy, a nervous wreck when faced with a stranger, and a stranger in his home, where he’s supposed the one in charge. He just stands there, listening and following her footsteps and trying to figure out where in the hallway she currently is, waiting for the perfect moment to step out of his bedroom. He can’t stay there forever just because she’s awake, he has to face her at some point. With or without his mama’s help.

His breath hitches slightly when he notices that she’s stopped.

She’s outside…  

A minute or two passes, and then he hears that awful cracking sound of that one step on the stairs, and he lets out a shaky breathe when he realizes She’s going downstairs, and Charlie’s not home . A small but noticeable wave of relief rolls over him. If Charlie would’ve been home she would’ve most likely been bombarded with questions and words and god knows what. Maybe even worse things than that if he had been drinking.

It’s only when he can’t hear her footsteps anymore that he manages to sneak his door open and peek outside, hallway empty, but he hears a faint giggle coming from downstairs. He surprises himself with how silent he’s actually being when snaking his way towards the dreaded stairs.

Really, Thomas. It’s a person, not a wild animal, his body and mind fighting in a fierce battle. I just wish mama was home, how am I going to talk to her?

He’s mindful to skip that crackling step at the stairs and keeps onward down. He’s like a shadow floating through his house. Stopping suddenly as he sees her swiftly walk pass him on the main floor. His eyes widen, lips pressed into a thin line, sucking in air into his lungs and lets it rest there, too nervous to let it out until he hears the fridge door open. Then, and only then does he continue down the stars.

In a corner, shrouded by darkness, he stops and stares at her back as she looks into the fridge, his heart drums in his chest. A rapid melody of du-dumdu-dumdu-dumdu-dum… He’s too used to getting ridiculed, and now when she’s awake, and doesn’t seem as frightened and desperate as she did in the barn, his mind races back to everyone else. To everyone in school, or when they’ve seen him when he’s been at the gas station helping his mother. They all just screamed, some even letting out high pitch screeching when they’ve seen him alone by accident. His self image is only made out of broken pieces at this point. Just the sheer fact that he didn’t run into the house when she first came into the barn is a surprise to himself. But now? Now she’s scary.

“I guess they don’t own much”, her voice is sweet now when he hears it clearly, and he tilts his head to the side. Her voice is both warm and smooth. It flows into his ears like honey.

Now I really do feel like a creep…

He keeps standing in the shadows watching her, his eyes dancing over her form. Her hair now resting on her back, with one part falling over her shoulder. A brief thought of how it would feel to brush that part of hair behind her ear flashes by in his mind and he shakes his head as he feels his cheeks heat up.

After closing the fridge door she just… stands there. Looking around, looking lost.

And Thomas? He does the same. Nervous and anxious, hands raised to his midsection to fiddle with his fingers, head hung low and stray hairs falling in front his eyes. He feels as lost as she looks until one of the small piglets running straight into one of his legs elicits a squeal, Thomas grunts slightly and stomps lightly at the floor to scare the piglet away.

Nice going, pig…, after looking at the pig running away in fear he looks up and is met by a pair of surprised eyes looking at him.

“It’s you! ”, he flinches at how she punctuates “you” and his eyes panic like he doesn’t know where to look, his lips becoming a thin line again, his heart beating like a rapid drum and he begins to breathe heavily, making his hands shake and fingers twitch.

No... He panics and turns to leave, heavy boots sounding out through the hallway, with wide steps he aims for the basement.

“Wait!”, her voice rings out again, that smooth velvety honey hits him, but he just ignores it. He can’t. His brain tells him that she’s just like everyone else. Just like the people in the slaughterhouse, just like the people in town, or at his mama’s store, just like his classmates during recess. She’s no different. When she sees him properly, she’ll scream. And realize what a horrible mistake she made by turning to him for help.

She’s just like everyone else.

[enithinggoes]

The witch’s teachings, lesson 0: admission

This is a documentation of the education I’ve received from the witch Morgana, whose wisdom and proficiency I’ve come to admire greatly since it began. To contextualise this, though, I must first explain how my apprenticeship at her hand began.

I was  a young lad of 23, and never had been out of the village where I had lived, whose only medic, doctor Jones, had taught me how to deal with sewing and cleaning wounds, as well as a few remedies that could supress pain and infection in the body, and I had been serving as assistant in his practices for a few months, however, we’d been recently dealing with injuries I found myself unable to treat, farmhands would appear with deep gashes into their arms and legs which, even after our usual practices, were said to radiate an intense burning sensation, and kept reopening for days on end.

After just a week of these happenings. Doctor Jones and me were both exhausted, caring for the 10 men and 2 women affected by the strange injuries had been intensely taxing, they would feverishly ramble about a dark creature with yellow eyes moving quickly through the night, slaughtering livestock and attacking any who attempted to scare it off or kill it. Me and my senior had been taking shifts of sleeping inside our clinic so at least one of us was constantly able to respond to new cases and monitor the existing victim’s condition. At the afternoon’s end, the neighbourhood suddenly fell silent, there should still be people moving through the street and conversing at the neaby bar at this time, the deafening silence made me shiver, I felt truly alone, being the only one awake at the clinic.

Suddenly the clicking of boots pierced the silence, followed by a door opening and I understood the reason behind the quiet. A woman entered the clinic wearing a short black dress with purple details, black pants, boots and gloves and a large brimmed, pointy hat. She was tall and lanky, with short raven hair. But what struck me the most was her eyes, they were dark like the ocean’s depths, giving the impression that any light that hit them could never escape, and they had a focus to them unlike those of anyone I’d met, the same focus of a falcon in the moment before it dove down for it’s prey, there was no mistaking it, this woman was a witch. I’d heard of them before, in fables and legends, how they were powerful and conniving and vicious and you should never cross them lest you be cursed to die or meet a fate even more terrible.

I stood reflexively to attention, stammering as I spoke a hurried greeting, “Hello ma’m, what brings you here?”

She brought out a small pouch and spoke with elegance and clarity “Heard your town was having a little werewolf trouble, so I’ve been brought on for a little help and consultation, you’re gonna want to spread that over their wounds twice, about half a day apart if you want the stinging to stop, has anyone been bitten?”

“No ma’m, we’ve only seen claw marks so far, did you say werewolf? I didn’t think those were real! What can we do? Should we organize a search party? What is this stuff?”, I asked, taking a small cilinder  filled with some kind of cream out of her pouch,  which she’d handed to me.

“Take a breath laddy, you don’t have to do anything about the werewolf, let momma here deal with that, it’s what I’m here to do anyway, just warn everyone to stay inside for a few days, alright? As for the paste, it’s silver powder, mashed together with rosemary, you can ask your mayor for the ingredients and make it here yourself.”

As the witch instructed, I spread the paste over my patients’ injuries, she insisted on checking them for bite marks, although considering the size of this creature’s claws, I imagine it would be near impossible to miss a bite. Whenever I finished the treatment on a pacient, their cries of pain would quickly lower in volume and frequency, to the point I stopped a few times to check if their heart and breathing were stopping, but their heartbeat was only going down from the speed it had accelerated to due to the pain back to a stable beat.

As she prepared to leave the clinic, the witch turned to me and asked “Have any human bones or half eaten carcasses appeared? Anybody disappear recently?”

“No ma’m, no dead yet, only injured” I responded

“Great, must be a recent transformation then, one last thing,” she said, “And I need you to answer this honestly, I promise it’s gonna be better for everyone, including you. Have you, or anyone you know been experiencing frequent night terrors, sleepwalking or finding destroyed furniture inside their homes?”

I must admit I was a bit afraid when I responded “not that I know of, ma’m.”

She put her hand on my shoulder reassuringly. “Easy there chap, you can call me Morgana ok? I’ll take you at your word, it’ll all be alright soon, now get some rest, you look spent.”

After she went away I was left to muse upon what that encounter had meant, the first witch I’d met seemed a lot kinder than the ones in the stories. Sure, she a cleverness to her indicative of someone who knew of things I didn’t, and a professional stance in the face of those grievous wounds that showed she was rather habituated to violence. But seemed ultimately benign and even kind, furthermore, I reckoned there was no way these people would recover in less than a month without her knowledge and assistance.

As I thought about it, my mind wandered to her pouch and the cylinder for the healing substance, still on the table, had she forgotten it? She’d probably want it back right? In what I’ve come to regard as a stupid move I left to look for her and give her what she’d left behind.

I only came to my senses when I realized it was already quite dark out, I thought I heard something moving behind me, but it could have been a mixture of exhaustion and paranoia, I started moving faster, trying to find my way home or back to the clinic, But the streets seemed to wind in ways unfamiliar to me. After a while I turned a corner only to  find a furred creature starring back at me, it looked like a bear, but taller and skinnier and it’s eyes seemed to glow slightly in the dark. I ran, and heard it bounding towards me, coming closer and closer every second, I turned town an alley, trying to lose it but realized my mistake when I saw the wall at its end, I turned to face the creature, preparing to scare it off or maybe die trying.

Its jaws opened wide as it jumped towards me, moving its arms as if to grab me and hold me in place, I closed my eyes out of fear. *BANG*, a noise rung out through the alley, the creature’s weight knocked me down with it’s momentum, but no bite or swipe came, it was already dead, at the other end of the alley stood Morgana, smoke coming out of her flintlock pistol. I hastily pushed the creature’s body to the side, spotting a hole in the back of its skull

“I thought I told you to stay inside, kid. What  in god’s name are you doing here, trying to get yourself killed?” She scolded while coming towards me.

I stood up as fast as I could, then did my best to answer her, “Y-You forgot your pouch.”

“Boy, you’re either very selfless or very stupid.” She took the pouch from my hand, then added under her breath “thank you.”

Suddenly, something came to mind, the real reason I was here, why I’d gone out in the middle of the night and risked my life, “I… I think I wanted to see you work. I was awestruck by your knowledge of a world that was in the edge of my very reality until now, you seem to wield a comprehension over it that seems impossible for anyone I know.” I bowed down my head. “Please, take me on as your apprentice! I’ll serve you however you like, just give me a morsel of that wisdom you wield so effortlessly!”

For the first time so far, she seemed stunned, she put her hand to her chin, thinking for a moment. “so your thirst for wisdom is such that it overpowers your fear of the dark…Very well, I could use a familiar, but be warned, I expect you to carry my things and do the menial labour I cannot waste my time doing. This will be hard, and very often tiring, you must let go of your old life and your old name if you are to proceed. Until you are powerful enough to be a witch yourself and choose your new denomination you shall be known only as my familiar. do you understand that?” She extended her hand towards me, stern but welcoming.

“Yes ma’m… Morgana.” I shook her hand.

“Then the pact is sealed.” A blue light engulfed me as I felt myself shrinking and transforming, I had quickly transformed into the form of a medium black cat, I’d heard about witch’s familiars before, so I did nothing but walk into my master’s leg, following her out of the alley.

   As we left in the first rays of dawn, the first thing I learned was how the witch was able to kill the werewolf in one shot when it had bested many men, only silver weapons can wound a werewolf, so her silver bullet was an easy fix. The second was why she chose to leave so soon, instructing the village doctor like she’d done with me before and passing by a sea of judgemental eyes,  angry and fearful. Witches are not well liked, they are seen as bad omens and dangerous beings, but they are tolerated as long as they are needed by the community. With the monster gone, and the body of a known baker of the village found in an alley with a hole in the back of the skull, that bottled up resentment was soon to turn into more dangerous action, hitting the road before that happened was vital to a witch’s survival. Thus began my education under the wise witch Morgana.

[kainissoable]

Homecoming but Okayer

I started thinking about how to make Silent Hill: Homecoming more coherent and emotionally satisfying without having to discard too many of the major story beats. What I ended up with was about 2000 words of a half-baked idea, which in fairness is still slightly more baked than the idea the team who were paid to make the game came up with.

We start with a shorter version of the opening nightmare with more of an emphasis on the nurses. It’s hard to tell, but the two or three patients they’ve mutilated all bear a resemblance to Alex without actually using the same model. The dream ends when a nurse stabs him in the chest. Just behind her, he sees Josh, and wakes up shouting for him.

Alex wakes up and winces, putting a hand to his chest. As he takes some nondescript medication and looks around the shabby motel room, we get a voiceover of his mother, reading out the letter she sent to him inviting him back home before his next deployment. She never mentions his name.

When he reaches Shepherd’s Glen, the fog is so thick he can barely see. There are dozens of abandoned vehicles on the road in, and eventually he has to get out of his car and walk.

The town is pretty much deserted, but there are signs of violence on almost every street. Then he recognises someone in the fog – Detective Wheeler. He runs over, but Wheeler doesn’t recognise him, or know of any Alex Shepherd. Wheeler coldly tells him that whoever he is it’s best if he leaves town. There’s nothing good here now.

He leaves, confused and unsettled, but carries on down the empty streets. On his way, he finds one other living person – Judge Holloway. He calls out again. Surely his Aunt Maggie will remember him. There were no ties of blood between them, but he’d been friends with her daughter Elle since they were small, and she’d almost been a second mother to him.

Judge Holloway looks at him blankly until he says his name, and then she’s all smiles. Oh, hasn’t he changed, no wonder she didn’t recognise him in all this fog. Go see your mother, dear, she’s waiting for you. Such a pity Elle isn’t here to greet you but she’s busy.

Alex continues, feeling more optimistic, until he sees the third figure in the fog. From a distance, it looks like someone crawling along the street, but as he gets closer, he sees it’s no human. Armed with only a utility knife, Alex either fights it or flees, and eventually reaches his childhood home.

When he gets there, he can look around a little and pick up a couple of things. There are several pictures of his parents and brother, Josh, and in his mother’s sewing room is a picture of Josh and an older girl. Alex says he remembers that being taken, must be eight or nine years ago by now.

When he finds his mother, she looks like she’s been crying. She looks at him for a long time before hugging him and starts crying again. “I missed you too, Mom.” Alex tears up a bit too. It’s been a long time since he was last home. She glances out the window and hands him his dad’s old pistol. “See if you can find Elle. It’s not safe out there.”

Alex takes the pistol and goes out in search of her. He finds Elle hanging up a missing person poster. Her little sister Nora vanished a few days ago. Alex says he’ll help her look.

There’s no sign of Nora, but once or twice Alex sees Jake in the fog. If he runs towards him, the vision fades and all he finds is a dead end. He finds a hairband at the playground near the cemetery, but then sees Mayor Bartlett in the graveyard. Concerned for him, Alex follows him to a run down hotel.

He doesn’t find the mayor inside, but he does find several more monsters and a room he can’t get into with a woman inside. He sounds like such a nice young man, she says. Would he help her remember? Alex agrees and finds some letters and postcards of hers. As her memories start returning, she becomes distressed and guilty for her infidelity to her dying husband. Alex can choose to comfort her, help her come to terms with her actions, or speak to her harshly. Her ghost may then move on, leaving him a key to find the mayor.

Mayor Bartlett is in a garden that actually looks like a garden. He’s talking to himself, or possibly to the tree in the centre. Either way, he laughs when Alex asks about Nora, then panics. “He” has woken up.

The world changes and the tree twists into something closer to a corpse. It picks up Bartlett in one hand and crushes him. Then it turns its attention on Alex.

Alex fights and kills it, then faints as the world tuns back to normal.

He wakes up in a jail cell with Deputy Wheeler staring at him through the bars. He’s clearly suspicious, and things might have gone very badly for Alex if Elle hadn’t vouched for him. Wheeler releases him because law isn’t starting to mean much in this town now, and Alex and Elle find themselves fighting through dozens of monsters on the streets.

Jake appears again in the distance, but Alex holds Elle back when she tries to help him. He says he’ll explain later, because the monsters are closing in.

They take refuge in Dr Fitch’s surgery after being surrounded and find his daughter Scarlett’s playroom. Elle picks up one of her dolls which has fallen on the floor and asks if now is a good time for Alex’s explanation. He tells her that it can’t be Josh. He died last year in a boating accident. Alex says it was his fault, he should have been watching him more closely, but he was so distracted doing his reading for the army aptitude test, Josh wasn’t a priority. He wanted so badly to make his dad proud, but all he did was fail his family again. Elle starts to say something, but she doesn’t get beyond Alex before the world changes and she vanishes.

Alex explores the Otherworld surgery looking for her. He doesn’t find Elle, but at the bottom of a perilous descent littered with monster nurses, he finds Dr Fitch crying and cutting himself over and over with a scalpel. Alex tries to talk him out of it, but Fitch keeps babbling about his sins and how sorry he is to his little girl. The “little girl” is a disproportionate porcelain doll over twice his height, which kills the doctor and makes a spirited attempt to do the same to Alex.

Once Scarlett is killed for the second time, Alex wakes up in the playroom where he was. Elle wakes up beside him, but instead of a doll, she’s holding a key. She recognises the seal as matching the one in the town hall where her mother works. Elle gives the key to Alex and returns home to check on her mother and let her know what’s happened.

Alex goes to the town hall alone and discovers a ceremonial dagger hidden there. He recognises the pattern on its hilt as matching his mother’s jewellery box. He goes back home in search of answers and walks in on an argument between his parents and Judge Holloway. He doesn’t catch much more than his dad shouting that he failed.

They all turn as Alex bursts in and his mother’s face goes pale. Judge Holloway asks him to come with her. Elle’s tracked down Nora in Silent Hill, she says, what reason does he have to stay here?

Alex wavers, but before he can make a decision, a group of monsters burst through the window. His parents and Judge Holloway are dragged away, the former by more inventive redesigns of Pyramid Head, the latter by a monster taking some design inspiration from the Missionaries in SH3. Another of the same type attacks Alex.

The Otherworld returns once it’s defeated and Alex has to navigate a twisted version of his childhood home. While there, he finds his mother’s jewellery box and inside finds some photos of him and Josh growing up. This is where anyone who hasn’t already twigged finds out that Alex is a trans man, and always felt that he was letting his family down because of his identity. Looking at these photographs with his mother’s neat hand crossing out an illegible name and replacing it with Alex is the first time he feels accepted by her.

Alex escapes the hell house and finds Wheeler, who he convinces to help him rescue his family and loved ones from Silent Hill. Once there, they split up to cover more area. In the undercroft of a church, Alex discovers the shared history of Shepherd’s Glen and Silent Hill, of how his town’s four founding families kept the Otherworld’s influence at bay with a blood sacrifice every 50 years – a child for every family.

He heads deeper into the crypt and finds his parents at the centre of a shrinking ring of fire, two of the pyramid headed monsters looking on impassively. It transpires that his mother had invited Alex back to be sacrificed, but they couldn’t go through with it, not after losing Josh the same way. They hoped that the town would accept the accidental drowning, but realised too late that it hadn’t. Alex has the option to try to save them, but either way he fails. The monsters don’t stop him from leaving the church.

Outside, he finds Judge Holloway. Apart form a couple of bruises, she looks unharmed, and she comforts him as he weeps. Eventually, Alex asks after her daughters. He says he knows what the powers that be want her to do, but they can’t save the town now, but they can still save the people. She agrees, says she knows where Nora was being held and if they hurry, they might be able to rescue her. She leads him to a large open room and runs though a door which locks behind her. Nora was already dead, and this human centipede of hands reaching out to choke him is all that’s left of her.

Alex defeats the monster that was once as close to him as a sister, and when the noise ends, Judge Holloway returns, expecting to see him unconscious on the floor. She flies into a rage, telling him to abandon this selfishness or everything will be for naught. As she speaks, her voice becomes more and more difficult to understand as her body changes and she abandons the last of her humanity.

The monster that she changes into tries to drown Alex and fulfil the final sacrifice. She loved him as  much of either of her daughters and she’s willing to sacrifice him just the same. Alex fights for his life and takes hers with a heavy heart. It wouldn’t have worked, he knows. It has to be someone of the Shepherd’s blood to consign him willingly to the water, and now there’s no one else left. He looks into the deep, dark pool he was so recently fighting to get away from, and jumps.

Depending on his actions, there are three fates for Alex. If he lets his self hatred and guilt rule him, his death saves the town in a bittersweet ending. If he chose wrath and vengeance, his body is dragged out of the water by the two pyramid headed monsters to become another judge of the guilty. If he chose to accept himself and come to terms with his actions, Elle and Wheeler pull him out of the water and he survives as well as the town of Shepherd’s Glen.

[youarejesting]

Hope in the Sheets.2

[Masterlist]

Beta: @LunarLxve Pairing: Hoseok x Reader Genre: Friendship, Comedy, Soft boy, Fluff, SMUT, Friends2Lovers,

Summary: You held many titles: his neighbor, colleague, wing-man… well, more likely a wing-woman, yet most importantly, you were his best friend. You had been friends since you were born. Between the two of you, you were younger; barely, but he never let you forget it. He always seemed to ruffle your hair and tease you, which could get rather annoying but he made up for it by treating you to things. What if a drunken one night stand between you and your best friend Hoseok leads to more complicated situations? Your reckless twenties are cut short as you find yourself suddenly responsible for something a little more.

Warning: Implied sex, Implied impreg, Penetrative sex, big dick Jhope (bigger than average not like monstrous).

You had drifted back to sleep, glad that it was a Saturday. The weather had been getting warmer, and it made the air slightly stale in the apartment. You had forgotten everything from the night before, in lieu of pleasant dreams. You don’t remember exactly what happened, but you were happy. A few key details you did happen to remember all included Hoseok smiling by your side.

He was smiling, holding your hand, the honey tones in his skin glowing in the sunset. His hickory brown colored eyes turning to meet yours. The thick love bands under his eyes were endearing; he said something, but you couldn’t hear him. His rosy lips made a heart shape when he smiled. 

His laugh was faint, or perhaps you just imagined that you could hear it, the corner of his perfect almond-shaped eyes turning up slightly. The scent of leather, cashmere cinnamon, liquor and peach, and freesia. It was a blend of Hoseok and your perfumes mixed together. You felt safe.

Knock knock.

Startled awake from the sharp sound, your eyes flicking open as if you had closed them for only a second. Blinking confused at the ceiling, long enough to question whether someone was really at your door. Perhaps no one was there, and you had just dreamt it. You closed your eyes, rolling over and burying your face in Hoseok’s shirt that you stole.

Knock Knock.

You rolled your eyes, swinging your legs off the bed and trudging to the door. You weren’t an aggressive person, but you were pretty sure you could commit several crimes to the person on the other side of the door. Throwing the door open, you were met with a freshly showered Jhope, standing in his baggy street fashion and dark shades, though they were probably for his hangover you thought they were particularly flattering. Sudden memories of the night previous flooded back, taking your breath away. 

Hoseok was touching your waist, slowly massaging your hips with his larger hands. You were feeling the two extra shots that you knew you shouldn’t have had. You were feeling good; finally, his attention was on you. There was no one else keeping him away from you, no ex-girlfriends, no booty calls, no friends with benefits. It felt nice to be the one he was looking as, to have his undivided attention.

This moment was like opening the floodgates, and suddenly you were chasing more. His affection was something you didn’t know you needed, but when he kissed you, it was all you could think about. It just felt like so much more. 

“Y/n?” Hoseok grasped, your shoulder confused, “Are you okay?”

“What?” Shaking your head physically as if to clear it only to regret it instantly when your nausea kicked in. Tequila wasn’t something you wanted to experience again so soon after last night. Honestly, you weren’t sure it would look as desirable on the way up as it did on the way down, and you weren’t ready to find out.

“I said I brought breakfast if you are interested” He held up a bag and a cardboard drink holder with two coffees, one Iced Americano and one Frappuccino. You took one of the two beverages and gestured for him to come inside, he laughed watching you walk away, leaving him in the doorway of your apartment. 

You sat as he unpacked the brown paper bag, presenting you with a mix of breakfast foods. It wasn’t exactly awkward, there seemed to be no difference between the two of you, but you were thinking about it, and more specifically, how to casually bring it up in conversation. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked, placing his hand on your knee.

“Um, I’m okay a little sore, but that is to be expected I guess,” you hummed. 

“I don’t remember past kissing some random girl at the club, but I guess she liked me cause she came home with me, I don’t remember much of anything at all except she was good. Real good.”

Like the weight off your shoulders had fallen straight onto your chest. It was almost strange how you could feel relieved and yet so disappointed. You could liken it to a friend cancelling plans —When your happy cause you weren’t feeling up to going out and doing things, but you also feel a little disappointed because you sort of wanted to see your friends—. 

So you were happy he didn’t know it was you, so your relationship wasn’t ruined, but at the same time you were sad because a part of you wanted him to know that you were the one he was with that night. 

Brushing it off and pushing the feelings into a little ball in your chest, hoping that soon the feeling would shrink until it was gone. 

“She sounds amazing.”

“I don’t know what it was, but I just felt really good physically and emotionally, I wish she didn’t leave.”

“I guess that’s life,” you smiled, and he couldn’t help but laugh and snuggle against you. The two of you relaxing and falling asleep on the couch binge watching reruns of old Drama’s. You don’t know how you convinced him to watch Boys over flowers start to finish. But that's how you spent the rest of your weekend. 

“Lil’ Darling, we have work tomorrow, let’s go to bed” He smiled, and you looked at him a little alarmed.

“Hobi, I don’t feel okay,” You said “I can’t explain it, I am not sick, I just don’t want to be left alone” You whined lightly. “I feel slightly off, wrong.”

“Is my lil’ darling anxious, I would offer you to stay, but I haven’t changed the sheets,” He said gently holding your cheek “What do you need me to do?”

“Please stay,” You clutched his shirt in a tight fist, “I want you to stay.”

“Only for you lil’ darling,” Scooping you up into his arms, he carried to your room. Stopping in the doorway, he chuckled. “You still have that old single bed.”

“Yeah you know I hate the idea of a guy staying the night, I don’t want them to catch feelings.”

“Well don’t worry about me darling, I won’t catch any feelings” He paused for a moment you watched him stare at your bed before taking a deep breath and looking down at you and grinning.

He placed you down on your bed and watched you quickly snuggle under your blankets and get comfortable. “It is going to be a tight squeeze lil darling” He laughed, turning the small lamp on beside the bed. He ducked off to the bathroom, and his absence left you feeling a little sad, you were never clingy; there was a reason you had a single bed.

You learnt from a young age that people would always let you down, so you never wanted to get into a serious relationship or rely on anyone ever. Even Hoseok had done so once or twice, but you could never hate him because out of everyone, he was the one who was always there. That’s why the two of you were sharing a single bed because of your commitment issues.

Hoseok returned, looking relieved when he saw you holding the small stuffed animal he had got you back when you were in the third grade. It was an apology for missing your birthday party, one of the three times he let you down. The second time had been when he told you he would take you to prom because you didn’t want to go if one of you were left out so you would go as friends, but then he revealed he was going with some other girl and you had to find someone last minute.

The third and final time he had betrayed you was when you had asked Hoseok to walk you home from the club, but he left home early, and someone had slipped something into your drink. Thankfully that was the night you became well acquainted with Jin and Jimin both who looked after you throughout the night. Jimin rubbed your back as you vomited into a bucket and cried for Hoseok while Jin tried to call Hoseok repeatedly. You had ended up in the hospital getting your stomach pumped, and he had apologized profusely. 

The stuffed horse you had affectionately named Mang, had long ears with a silk lining which you would rub your thumbs along each ear while overthinking things or generally feeling anxious. Hoseok smiled at the habit he had watched develop over the years, and he sat on the bed, taking the toy gently from you and smiled fondly at it.

“You still keep this old thing?” He looked at the stuffed toy that you had worn the ears on, and the mismatched eyes where you had to sew a replacement on as one was lost over time. You saw this face every time he looked at the horse toy whenever it popped up in your lives. You wondered if it was nostalgic for him to see. It was strange to think about how long it had been.

You watched Hoseok lay backhanding you the doll, it was awkward at first. Shoulders pressed together, you were pressed to the wall, and Hoseok was hanging half of the bed. “We used to fit a lot better when we were younger,” He laughed, making you crack a smile. “Lay on your side.”

You turned to face the wall, and Hoseok laid behind you, wrapping his arms around you, and pulling you close. “Look now we fit” His words sparked another memory.

“Hobi, I don’t think you will fit” The sight of his exposed member was honestly amazing. He had the perfect dick, it was bigger than average and an average girth, the head a perfect rosy color. He kept everything well groomed, and you wanted to taste him, feel the weight of him on your tongue.

You squirmed feeling the slippery sensation between your thighs, he asked you if this was what you wanted and reassured you not only that you could say no but also that he would be gentle. Even in his drunken state, he was still a gentleman. But there was not a thought in your head that wanted to stop this, so you agreed, voice husky. 

He opened your legs, holding himself up with one hand the other holding the shaft of his penis. Nudging your legs open a little more, he pressed slowly into you looking up to make sure you were not in pain, but his eyes continued to drift back down, not wanting to miss the way you looked being stretched around him slowly.

Once the head of his cock was within the warmth of your pussy, he placed his hand on the other side of your body, pressing his hips forward and rolling them slightly upward so that he could follow the natural curve of your body and bury deeper inside you. There was a moment where he thought he would pass out, his thoughts felt cloudy from the alcohol but also the feeling of your smooth walls concealing him.

You can’t remember how your position changed or how many rounds it had been, but you had ended up on your hands and knees. Hips tilted forward, presenting yourself to Hoseok and allowing him to slide in easily. Well lubricated by a mix of slick and cum, he entered with a quick thrust making you moan and grip the bed sheets. This angle felt so amazing inside of you, he was able to rub more against the front wall of your dripping cunt.  

He began thrusting, his hands grasped your hips, which he used to drive you back against him. The noises that left your mouth were a mix of moans of pleasure and forced exhales by the sheer strength off his thrusts, your arms gave out and your chest was pressed to the bed, your face against the pillow as your legs shook in pleasure. 

Your orgasm was building, and you came; the tight waves of pleasure between your legs made Hoseok stutter his hips thrusting forward. Managing to catch the headboard before he fell dick first on top of you. Cum pooling deep inside you as your cervix was contracting, kissing against it to let the seed filter into the depths of your womb.

You laid there thinking over that night, and just before you fell asleep a realization hit, Hoseok wasn’t wearing a condom, and you didn't take the pill because you are an irresponsible woman in her mid-twenties. 

In your defense you rarely find yourself in situations to need to be on birth control. Then there are the side effects the pill causes your body to go through, things like weight gain, acne, heavy periods. It all just became too many cons to one pro that you didn’t need.

You quickly grabbed your phone from under the pillow, Hoseok’s soft snoring keeping time behind you, opening your app, you looked at your period tracker and saw your ovulation day had passed, everything was perfectly safe. What would be the odds that anything would come out of one night? You could move on without any worries, no need to waste your time and money on the morning after pill either.

Hoseok’s alarms went off first, and he quickly snoozed it, you both laid there still, desperately clutching to the last few minutes of sleep. Part of you wondered if Hoseok also thought about calling in sick just to have an extra day to laze around, but you knew he wasn’t like that. He was fairly hardworking, and in turn, the two of you had never missed a day off work unless you were violently ill.

But today wasn’t one of those days you were in perfect condition, which meant when your alarm went off, Hoseok was ready to get up. This would have been fine, but he pestered you until you were up and awake as well. 

“Come on, let’s get ready for work, and I will make breakfast” You rolled over giving him the stink eye. Raising his hands defensively, he walked out of the room with a five-minute warning. You begrudgingly got out of bed. Spending more time than necessary in the shower. When you left, Hoseok was a note on the bench with a plate of toast and beans. You must be getting low on groceries.

Dear Lil’ Darling, You have no food in the house. Let’s go shopping after work. Speaking of, I left early because I was called in by Taeil. Love you, Your hope and sunshine.

Opening the fridge and indeed your suspicions, and Hoseok’s letter was confirmed, it was particularly bare. There was an ancient jar of jam towards the back and alcoholic beverages here and there. You ate quickly and headed off to work, feeling bored with the lack of your best friend for the journey.

When you arrived at work, Taeil was there, as usual, chewing gum and searching his clipboard. “Hey y/n, you have a new partner as of today” You looked up at him, horrified. The only way you were able to stomach this job day after day was because of Hoseok.

“What do you mean, new partner?”

“Hoseok is training some of the newbies with Taeyong, and you are going to be paired with Winwin,” the disbelief must have been evident on your face as he gave you a pat on the shoulder. “It’s not forever.”

Your day went from bad to worse, when your lunch break didn't line up with Hoseok’s. On top of that, on your way out of the bathroom, a woman asked if you could watch her child while she went to the toilet. 

The child stared at you the whole time, his tiny fist gripping your necklace and trying to eat it. As time passed, you started talking to the baby, and eventually, you found yourself wondering. You were getting older, and some of your classmates had all started to have children. You had never really felt maternal, and you loved your mid-twenties dearly the freedom to go anywhere, do anything, no one waiting at home, no children to take care of.

But at the same time, you were scared. Things with Hoseok wouldn’t last; just like today, he will go in his own direction, find a woman, get married. The question was; Where would you be?

Hoseok met up with you outside the park, and the two of you took the bus, stopping at the shopping center. Hoseok grabbed the cart while you pulled out your list. This was one thing your mother always taught you to budget and plan things accordingly.

You walked down each aisle carefully, calculating prices and value for money. Hoseok laughed when he had first encountered you on a shopping trip, but now he was leaning down to the bottom shelf, reading the different prices of UHT milk. 

“This one is the cheapest,” he turned, smiling. 

“That’s so cute,” an old woman smiled “remember when we started shopping together when we were first married?”

“Oh, we are not—” you were cut off by Hoseok’s hand, which was sneaking around the small of your back and grasping your waist. He pulled you closer with a cheeky grin, his long thin fingers wiggling against your side, making you squirm and giggle.

His nose was buried in your hair, eyeing the older couple, “don’t spoil their fun, they are reminiscing their youth” Hoseok decided to help the older couple shop talking about helping them reach things off the top and bottom shelf and lifting anything particularly heavy. The whole time Hoseok was telling them how you were best friends through school, and you worked together.

“How sweet you have been together for so long, your home must be filled with so many sweet memories” the woman smiled happily.

“Of course, our home is small but cozy we can’t keep away from each other” Hoseok smiled winking at you he described a false home you definitely didn’t own. 

“We live on the outskirts of town, so we have a little more room and a little back yard. The sun comes in through the window in the afternoon, and the breeze blows the cream lace curtains gently. We sometimes have tea on the back porch when we have time.”

You couldn’t let Hoseok have all the fun, so you joined in, telling them about how Hoseok, on the weekends, would dance around the living room while cleaning, and you would tend to the gardens.

“Every morning, he makes breakfast and coffee and gets me out of bed, and every night I make his favourite dinners, and if he has been working hard, I make his favourite dessert.” 

After what seemed like the longest, but  very enjoyable shopping experience you had in a while, you headed out to the parking lot, waving goodbye to the old couple.

You decided to take a taxi home as there were too many groceries to carry on the bus.

“That old couple was so cute, they really thought we were a married couple” Hoseok laughter was infectious, and you couldn’t help but join in with his wholesome fun. “I think we would be a cute couple if we did get married.” 

You wiped your tears of amusement from your eyes, turning to see him watching the first few droplets of rain hit the window as the city passed by.

“If you were my husband, you would have to learn to take the trash out at night?” You hummed, “I can’t keep doing it for you.”

“Hey it is scary going out the side of the apartment at night, and it smells funny,” he laughed, acting sheepish about his fears, but you understood, you had your own fears that felt irrational sometimes. 

“If you were, my wife would have to know how to turn me on” His eyebrows wiggled suggestively, and he tickled his fingers up your arm making you slap it away, dismissing his comment as solely playful what if’s with no underlying meaning.

“You don’t think I could, that’s harsh Hoseok” Arms crossed in a mock upset, “why do guys stay with me then?”

“They don’t,” he laughed, normally you would laugh too, not one to get offended at a self-deprecating joke, but it kind of hurt as well. You got out, grabbing your groceries from the boot, the light sprinkle of rain turning into a heavy shower.

Your work uniform was a frilly dress that matched the cartoon funhouse you worked in, you honestly loved working the adult rides or the safari bus where you could wear pants or shorts and a polo top. 

It almost felt refreshing to be in the summer rain, you spun around a collection of shopping bags in each hand. The rain promised a fresh start, but you thought it felt more like a cold ending to something you cherished.

Clothes weighing you down almost as heavy of the doubt in your chest. You wanted nothing but to let this moment last forever. This perfect plateau, an in-between where nothing was happening, you didn’t want to grow up anymore. If you could go back, you would appreciate those days just sitting in the same room as Hoseok after school, watching TV together, and learning the choreographies in music videos.

Talking about your dreams, you would always say you didn’t know what you wanted; for Hoseok, he always said he would be a dancer. But, given a chance to go back, you would tell him, the only thing you want to be is with him forever. The idea of parting ways never seemed like an option, but you knew one day it had to come. Something about your drunken one night stand together made this whole twenty-something year relationship seem so fragile. 

“You are going to get sick, come inside,” Hoseok called, standing under the cover of your apartment building. When had you started crying? The odd mix of hot tears and ice-cold raindrops, reflecting how indecisive you felt.

“Hoseok, if I asked you to, would you stay by my side forever?” He was a smart guy and very perceptive he knew the difference between the rain and your tears.

He placed the groceries down under the cover and stepped out into the rain, taking you in his arms. You dropped the bags at your feet and wrapped your arms around him. “I am scared you are going to leave.”

“Hey, I could never leave you, you are my best friend, right?” He laughed, holding your cheeks softly, and you watched him searching your eyes for something, “You remember this?” 

He unbuttoned his uniform shirt and revealed his bare chest, you had seen his smooth, strong chest on many occasions but he drew your attention to a tiny tattoo just slightly off center in the middle of his chest. You often forgot it was there so used to it just being there. “What does this say?”

“Baseline,” you sighed, knowing exactly what he was going to say. 

“You are the baseline in my life and I will be there” He moved your shirt to show your collar bone where you had a matching tattoo delicately written on the clavicle. “We got them as a promise, remember?”

“Why are we here?” You asked Hoseok as he walked you into the tattoo parlor, you looked around looking curious but confused.

“Because I stuffed up, and I need to prove to you that I won’t leave you like that again,” Hoseok said, determined.

“It’s fine, that's what people do. It’s not something you can control; people are just born to let others down.” You sighed.

“Not me. Not your best friend Hoseok” He grabbed your shoulders, turning you to face him. Eyes pleading for you to realize how important this was to him. “I will stain this onto my skin, so I never forget.”

“What if you get married one day, and your wife doesn’t like the tattoo?” You asked him curiously as to what he was going to get, and where was it going to be big?

“That’s if I get married,” he laughed “when we turn forty if we aren’t married, let’s just get married, deal?”

“Thirty, and that's the baseline I won’t go any higher, or I will be too old to get married.”

“Deal! Thirty is our baseline” He linked pinkies with you as a heavily tattooed young man approached the counter.

“Sorry about the wait, how can I help you?”

“I would like a tattoo sir on my chest right here,” Hoseok said, his eyes never leaving yours, the artist asked him what he was thinking. “I would like ‘Baseline’ written right here.”

It was a spare of the moment decision that made you get the same tattoo, but instead of over your heart, you go it above your heart.

Heartfelt moment over, and you were left with damp clothes and a few soggy groceries. Hoseok went home to shower, telling you to call if you needed anything. It truly was the closing of a chapter, the thin wall between you and Hoseok seemed like the furthest you had ever been apart.

That night you dreamt about him, in the fake house he had spoken about earlier that day with the cream lace curtains blowing gently in the breeze, letting the afternoon sun in through the glass door that lead to the back porch. You crossed the light wooden floors and stepped onto the back veranda to see Hoseok swinging in a hammock, his sun-kissed skin glowing gold under the warmth of the summer sky.

His hair gently tousled every now and again by the breeze, and his lips parted with a short sigh. You wondered what he was dreaming about while looking so at peace, his eyes slowly blinked open and you could see the love they held as they met your own. It was like getting winded you woke up from the sheer panic that coursed through you, sitting up your cheeks were damp and you realized.

You were in love with your best friend, Jung Hoseok.

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[terminally-karkalicious]

allow me to rant about the only thing that has been in my brain for the past two months and that is doll customizing babeyyyyy

i know there’s a 90% chance that you wont give a Shit about any of this but here we go anyways

SO first you gotta choose a doll. preferably one with a high range of motion to avoid creating new joints or having annoying limitations like not having elbow joints for some fucking reason. what the fuck mattel. give monster high dolls back their ball jointed shoulders and elbow joints. smh

the most common dolls ive seen used as bases are monster high and ever after high. most customs ive seen are highly stylized so the stylized face molds work well for those types of dolls but dolls like barbies are good for when you want a more realistic face-ups.

once you’ve got your base picked out you gotta wipe that bitch’s face off with like. acetone or nail polish remover or something strong like that. you can also use acetone to shrink doll heads which is cool as hell imo. n e way once the face is wiped you gotta chop off the hair and remove the hair plugs from the inside. ive seen this done several ways but the easiest and most common way ive seen is to dunk the head into boiling water for ~30 seconds until it gets squishy and malleable. once you’ve got the head back, you can use pliers (i think tweezers would work in a pinch) to pull out the hair plugs which are kinda icky because theyre covered in glue and other gross shit. ew

now you must decapitate the doll. dunk em back in the boiling water to soften them back up then just tug the head off. the neck pegs look funky and are usually a different color than the body so thats cool ig

once the head’s off, you can start the face-up which is basically just giving the doll a new face using stuff like watercolor pencils, acrylic paint, gouache, and a whole lot of other stuff. hell ive seen people use person makeup on these dolls.

next,,,,, hair. there’s about twenty million ways to do hair from gluing yarn wefts to sewing to rerooting with purchased nylon doll hair or yarn wefts but i’m gonna talk about the most common one ive seen which is rerooting and gluing.

before you can reroot, you need doll hair. which, as i mentioned, can be bought at stores like the doll planet or made at home with yarn in literally any color. have fun with it! make rainbow hair or something idk

to make homemade wefts, you take some acrylic yarn, cut it twice as long as you want the hair to be (keep in mind you can cut and style the hair once it’s been rerooted), fold them in half, and tie it to something sturdy like a wire coat hanger for the next step.

once you’ve got your yarn tied to your hanger, use a pet brush and brush the yarn until it’s wispy and looks like hair. then take a straightening iron and iron the weft flat. then remove from the hanger and boom. hair wefts. ta-da

to reroot the wefts onto the head, use a rerooting tool (which can be as simple as a needle with the eye cut at angle) (just google it please i’m shit at descriptions)) to poke small sections of the hair into the head. you can use the pre-existing rooting holes for your own reroot as they’re usually pretty reliable. to reroot, take a small length of you doll hair (about 10-15 strands), loop it in half, and put the middle of the loop into the reroot tool. poke the end of the tool with the hair on it into the pre-existing hole and remove the tool. the hair *should* stay in and fill up that plug!! also remember to plug thickly at the hairline and part of the hair where it's most noticeable. it doesnt matter as much in the center of the head as that’s not usually visible on the doll. once you’ve rerooted, squeeze in strong glue through the neck hole and squish around the head to make sure it covers all the plugs and secures them in place. then pour hot water onto the head to make the hair lay flat for styling later.

also, you can reroot yarn directly into the head to make thicker, more textured hairstyles. and since the yarn is thicker, you dont need to glue the inside of the head for the hair to stay in place!!

if youre not doing body modifications (which are also cool as hell) then it’s time for clothes but clothes are boring and i like body mods more so i’m gonna rant about them instead

the material ive seen most doll artists use is apoxie sculpt, which is like play doh on steroids. it comes in two parts which you gotta mix together for some reason. why dont they sell it pre-mixed. what was the reason. also once it’s dry it’s super super strong and you can sand it, drill into it, paint it, and all kinds of stuff. very nice and i want some for myself.

you can use hand saws and drills and shit to whack off doll limbs to make stuff like digitigrade legs or new joints. also dont be afraid to use other mismatching doll parts when customizing like heads and bodies and forearms and hands and shit. it literally does not matter if youre gonna recolor the doll anyways so have fun with it. make frankenstein’s doll if youre feeling spicy

accessories my beloved. stuff like tiny beads and clay baubles and shit will literally transform the entire doll plus they’re adorable and multi-purpose

i suppose i must talk about clothes now. ah well. you can find great clothing patterns if youre new to customizing on other customizer’s etsy shops and probably google although those will probably be lower quality than paid pattern pieces. and keep in mind that if it exists as clothing irl, you can likely make it doll-sized. there are literally no limits to your clothing options as long as you can execute your idea.

the once all your components have been made, you can assemble the doll again!! and finally see what all the parts look like together!! very cool 10/10 stars.

ight that wraps up my doll rant. i could really go into more detail on certain parts but thats a whole other rant for a whole other day smh. sorry for fucking flooding your inbox ender ahaha……………. you asked for this

little did you know that dolls have been one of my favorite things since like ever. if i can read a 25 chapter long fanfic i can read this B)

mattel definitely fucked up by completely ruining MH doll designs and just stopping EAH, alot of their profits most likely came from people who collect and customize dolls and by changing MH doll designs/Stopping EAH dolls they 1. most likely lost a small (or big if we're not jus talking people who customize dolls) part of their profit and 2. made it harder for doll customizers to make dolls/get commissions out rather quickly because they probably have to waste more time making joints or learning how to make joints.

EAH/MH dolls (specifically MH dolls) had AMAZING MODELS because there was so much variety with height, face shapes, etc (my favorite molds had to be the short/tall dolls and the cat molds because of the tails) and doll customizers really went all out with enhancing a molds unique features. The only "downside" abt MH dolls is that they (or atleast most)(from what i remember)) had slimmer faces but wider eyes while EAH dolls have wider faces with slimmer smaller which left a canvas for the face and not the eyes (and vice versa for MH dolls)

I've never seen any videos where a barbie is customized (maybe because i absolutely despised barbies at the time) so I'll definitely have to check those out but they seem to be good for realistic makeovers. I've seen like like semi realistic makeovers for EAH/MH dolls that were pretty good too tho (pretty sure mostly EAH dolls since yk MH dolls were used for creature makeovers while most EAH dolls weren't)

yeah i was always amazed by the head shrinking with acetone. honestly i still am?? idunno i have no idea how that chemical bullshit works. Ive seen a few of uh makeovers that just pain over the face (in multiple layers ofcourse) but that's usually when they're painting the entire body a different colour (again usually when they're turning a doll into a funky little baby man). I've also seen a few that just chop the hair off and take out the hair plugs yk without uuh like softening the head or just go straight for the hair plugs after taking off the head (i used to do that it was funny to me??). i always really liked when they used watercolour pencils or just colour pencils in general to draw/sketch on the face cause like wow ur drawing on ur doll without ruining it?? kinda epic maybe even poggers and pogchamp?? oh god my brain is failing wjshsmsj.

Watching them putting the hair back on the doll was, other than the face stuff, was the BEST part for me. Favorite type of hair was iuuuuuh was either thick yarn or brushed out yarn. Literally worship the people that would reroot the hair, theyre the most patience people on this earth!! it's literally insane but i guess that's what happens when you've been doing that for years? you guess kinda get used to it. when they put glue into the head does it just become stiff?? like it's just a clump of dried glue or does it like..hollow out again??

dude you literally cannot convince me most of the supplies used for doll makeovers. APOXIE CLAY LOOKS SO FECKING GOOD. its edible and i will die on that hill. The body mods are literally so amazing!!!!! it's so impressive how theyre able to imagine certain features THEN LIKE ACTUALLY MAKE IT LOOK ACCURATE TO WHAT THEY WANTED TO LOOK LIKE AFTER LIKE ON TRY (or many yk trial and error is very necessary for..everything). Absolutely loved when doll customizers would saw off a dolls legs and use different ones or just completely get rid of the torso to use a different one. it's like uuh that one big guy that's mismatched and sewn together. very cool. The accessories are so fun!! just small little details you seen really need but can add because it's your feckin doll!! I used to be absolutely obsessed over the doll clothes i would find on etsy, so much so that i started sewing shitty shirts and dresses for my uh "customized" dolls (they were absolute HORRORS idk WHY my mom let me feck up my dolls like that).

Thank you for this!! i haven't been able to talk about any of my interests for a while and this just really made me happy!!

Question fer u my fellow MH/EAH enthusiast: what was your favorite MH/EAH movie/episode and doll series. Mine was The fusion dolls (MH obvi) and that MH movie "Haunted" cause we got to know more about Spectra :D

[xparadisexlostx]

Harper/Beck

Beck pulled on the back hatch to her van with a grunt, and it slowly parted from its hinges with a long, metallic groan. The back end of the Goose was packed with tight efficiency that was essential to fitting everything she needed inside the vehicle---but also made it nearly impossible to access. She shoved a pile of blankets forward onto the backseat, heaved her weight against the pack where she kept her tent, and snatched her cooler with a hard tug. A little too hard. There was a shlick and a rumble of plastic wheels bumping against the metal lip of the back of the bus, then it sprang free so violently it tugged her shoulder clean in the other direction, dragging several items beside it out onto the dirt below. 

She swore. It’d been a long enough day, and she was already sore, and now she had a mess to clean up. Lovely... but at least the food hadn’t managed to fall out. A soft groan left her lips as she bent to collect a canister of sewing supplies that had spilled, tossing them back into the basket once she was sure the needles were securely stuck into something. A couple of tin cups, a pot, some soap...

Her hand stalled as it brushed something smooth and dark. She pulled back for a moment, and then scooped it up in her hand. The cellphone was several years old, but disuse had left it in pristine condition. The cord that went to it was wrapped snugly around the base; the battery was long since dead. Would it still work?

It was a stupid thought, but she rounded the corner to the front of the Goose anyway, and jammed the little piece into the cigarette lighter, half expecting it to catch fire. It didn’t.

A little green light at the top of the phone blinked on, and Beck sat back in her seat.

“Oh my god can this not be an argument right now.” Harper shot her a look in the mirror that said that wasn’t a request, but when had that ever stopped Beck? Harper ran a finger under her lipstick as if it weren’t already perfectly cemented in place. “You need a phone, Beck.”

“I’ve managed my whole life without one.” The blonde replied stubbornly.

“You haven’t lived in a city since we were kids.”

“Fifteen is not a ‘kid’.”

Harper gave her that scathing “I really hate when you do that” look she always got before her temper flared. 

“You get my point.”

No. She didn’t. Not at all. Harper had a frustrating knack for acting she’d explained herself perfectly when in reality, the only thing she’d done was give an order, and Beck was fairly certain she did it on purpose. Most people were cowed by her hard assertions and sharp eyes. It kept them from asking questions or starting arguments. But Beck was immune to Harper’s piercing stares and venomous tone. They knew each other too well. 

Beck was afraid of most people when it came down to it. When their tempers flared, when their voices raised, she’d shrink back down into that frightened child under her mother’s scrutiny and wrath. But it was different with Harper. The trust between them couldn’t be shattered with harsh words or Harper’s tendency to let her anger get the better of her. They’d squabble, they’d get over it, and never once did she have to worry that Harper might cross that line, might dare even think of hurting her.

Beck sat on the bed and propped herself up with an arm, turning the glowing device over in her free hand over and over as if that would teach her how to use it. When she looked up, she realized that Harper was staring at her with an indeterminable expression on her face. They were at an impasse. Neither had a better argument than “yes” or “no” and those weren’t enough to be persuasive.

“It’s a gift.” Harper tried, and Beck looked down at the phone doubtfully. Harper gave gifts with all the warmth and efficiency of a soldier going through marching drills. She didn’t linger waiting for thank yous or promises of reciprocity. The act of giving itself fulfilled something in Harper, soothed some ache Beck didn’t understand. Beck accepted, whether she really wanted it or not, because Harper needed that from her. Just like she needed Harper’s strength, her unflappable assurance that everything would be alright---that she’d make it alright no matter what. That was part of being together. Needing things. But normally she at least enjoyed Harper’s gifts. Not this. She couldn’t accept this.There was a line even Harper could not cross.

Sensing that hadn’t gotten her anywhere, Harper pressed on. “I need to be able to keep in touch with you.”

There it was. Beck let the phone drop onto the sheets.

“I don’t need you to check up on me.” She said, almost resentfully. 

Harper pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’s not checking. It’s communication. I work late and you wander the city at all hours. What if something happened? What if you got hurt? You don’t have to play with it or anything just... for emergencies.”

“That’s checking up on me!” She said heatedly. Shouting wasn’t her nature. Often it wasn’t even within her ability, but her tone acquired a razor sharp edge. “I’m not a child.”

“Fine if wanting to know you’re alive and having a good day is checking on you then yeah, I’m a stalker. Constantly hounding you. Treating you like a child.” Harper threw her hands in the air. “You’re blowing this out of proportion.” 

“You aren’t listening to me!”

The thin thread of Harper’s temper snapped, and her voice raised. “Why should I when you aren’t making any sense!”

Beck opened her mouth to argue. There was clear hurt reflected in her eyes, and regret silenced her girlfriend’s tirade. But Harper’s eyes glanced past her. She got a glimpse of that damned clock, and she forced her temper into submission. Her shadow dwarfed the little witch on the bed as she drew closer, and her perfume hung thick and heavy in the air as she bent forward. Warm lips ghosted against the skin of her jaw, then covered her own, and the red stain on Harper’s lips gently stuck them together, even as she pulled away. There was a sad expression on her face.

“I’ve got to go. Meetings.” Beck clung to her girlfriend’s arm softly, but Harper detached herself, pecked her lips one last time, and stood to her full height. “Tonight. We’ll talk. I promise. Just---look at it. Just until I get back.”

Her heels clicked sharply against the marble floors as she exited the bedroom and swept down the stairs. Keys rattled in the door, it shut noisily, and then the distant ding of the elevator signaled her absence.

The day passed slowly; it wasn’t like she had a job to entertain her. She ran with Ringo and then  they aimlessly strolled the streets of the buzzing city around her, trying to tamp down on her disdain for it. People every step she took. No space between them. No air slipped through the concrete walls of the city that was not tainted by the ever present smog spat out by passing cars with their blaring horns and cursing patrons. She’d thought, when she’d first moved in with Harper, that she’d come to love this city. She thought the people would endear themselves to her, she’d find a rhythm in the bustling streets like she did in nature, but there was only chaos and filth and crowds. They choked her, each and every person she passed, their presence like hands around her throat, and each day she hated them a little more for it.

The little device Harper had given her kept letting out mechanical chimes throughout the day, and if she’d have had less respect for her girlfriend and the environment in general, she’d have chucked it into the Hudson and been done with it. It wasn’t like she could read the messages. She’d made a valiant attempt the first few times, only to get a migraine over something as menial as “sorry I had to run out” and “Carver from accounting is still a dick.”

Beck returned to the house with an armful of groceries and set about dinner. She wasn’t surprised when it finished and Harper still wasn’t home. The days were reserved for business, but at nights, Harper slipped into the cemeteries and morgues that she owned to practice her craft and take from the dead what they did not even know they had left to give. It was near midnight when she heard keys in the door, and Beck set down her knitting to head into the kitchen and turn the oven back on. 

Beck startled as she turned on her heel. Harper was leaning against the island, not four feet away, dangling her heels from the tips of her fingers. Her blazer had been shed, likely on the way home, and the dark blue of her blouse had been half unbuttoned and peeled away from the top of her neck to allow her some breathing room, but she did not look disheveled by far. No bags dogged at her eyes, there was no slump in her posture, and neither her hair nor makeup had given an inch throughout the nearly sixteen hour day she’d just worked. 

“You didn’t answer my texts.” She said, and Beck could tell if she was joking or actually riled.

“I didn’t know how. I just stopped reading them. Are you hungry?” It was best not to feed into whatever this was. It wasn’t often, but sometimes her particular practice of the craft left her riled up and searching for confrontation; it was why she held her own so well in the business world. If that was where this was going, she didn’t want any part of it.

There was a tense silence in the room, and then Harper sighed and looked out the window. Her fingers reached into the back of her hair and snagged the pin that kept her bun in place to release it; waves of dark curls cascaded down her neck like waves of a golden ocean. She tousled them with a hand and groaned.

“Ok. I’m an asshole.” She said reluctantly. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

The little witch gave her a derisive look and turned back to the oven to stick the food in.

“ I can’t imagine why you’d think it was.”

Or that you needed to say it out loud.

Harper took hold of her hips and lightly pulled her back around. The tip of her thumbnails slipped beneath the hem of Beck’s shirt and brushed back and forth over the skin with tender affection. Beck tried to hold her gaze, but Harper was looking over her face intensely.

“You---are the toughest bitch I know.” 

Beck’s face contorted into a glare. “You aren’t funny Harper.”

She went to pull back, but Harper followed until her back was pressed up against the counter. 

“I’m not joking.” She defended. “I don’t know anyone that can take a hit like you. Something beats you down and you claw your way back up. You put a smile on your face, and somehow, every day, you say to yourself that you aren’t going to make anyone feel like people have made you feel. Scared or---alone or small. You’re tough.”

She couldn’t for the life of her figure out where Harper was going with all of this, but the gentle brushes against her hips and the faint smell of perfume were enough to settle her prickled spirit.

Harper’s forehead rested against her own and for a second Beck felt her hold a bit tighter. “But I’m---not.”

 Beck waited. She gave Harper the chance to work through whatever this was. Harper didn’t do well with vulnerability; neither of them did.

“I’m not tough. I am angry and I’m jagged and I’m ripped open and raw. And the thought of something happening to you---it scares the shit out of me. I’m weak. I underestimate you because you’re so damn nice.” She said, and Beck returned her embrace when she felt her tremble ever so slightly. But Harper wasn’t finished. “You’re right. I gave you the phone to keep tabs on you---because I---I guess I’m a coward.”

“Harper you-”

“No. I am.” She pulled back so that they could look one another in the eyes. “And I shouldn’t have made that your problem. Sometimes I rely on you too much... If you don’t want the phone Beck, I won’t say anything else about it. And I won’t get pissed. I’m sorry.”

She had tested Harper’s word by giving her the phone back. Harper hid it away somewhere, and she didn’t bring it up again. After a full month of proving a point, Beck asked about it herself. At first she kept it in the house. On occasion Harper would work from home or take the day off and she’d show her how to do things with it. Every time she would assure her it was safe. No one was watching them. No one was listening to them. No one could track them. For all her faults, Harper had never been a liar, and so slowly she came to trust the device. She’d take it with her on walks and send the little cartoon faces to Harper just to pester her into calling. Eventually she was so used to it that she took pictures of herself or of them together.

In her lap, the phone chimed melodically, and its soft glow filled the dark cabin of the bus. She was met immediately with a picture of Harper and herself, wrapped in an embrace, in front of a field of colorful lantern displays. There was a stab of pain in her stomach. Harper’s lips were turned up in the kiss, her arm outstretched to take the photo, and one eye slyly peaking at the camera as she rushed to take the shot.