#hell half the time link is a wolf and while it would be possible it probably wouldnt be the best | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tonguetiedraven · 1 year ago

Note

I love your Kyoto stuff! (MarbleWolf too!) and was wondering if you could do something with them all teasing Ryuuji about his crush and him panicking about Rin finding out? Get together?

Thank you so much! @marble-wolf and I took this in a slightly different direction, but we hope you like it! We've got a teaser below with a link to the full fic under it.

-- -- -- -- --

The difference of stepping off the bus and onto the road that would lead them to the ryokan, the temple, and the Deep Keep, was immediate to Ryuuji, though he wasn’t sure anyone else would notice. Konekomaru almost certainly, Renzou maybe, but he doubted his other classmates would notice the absence of it.

The air was clear. Crisp and cold, but fresh. Ryuuji took a deep breath of it, beaming as he did (probably still looking a bit grouchy because he could never quite seem to not look that way) and set a quick pace towards his home that Renzou calling out a frustrated sounding “Bon!”

He slowed back down which proved to be a terrible idea because it put him right next to Rin. Shoulder to shoulder almost.

The last time Ryuuji was here, that would have been a terrible thing because they hadn’t been talking at all and he was frustrated and confused and worried. But now, now he wasn’t worried and stressed about the temple he loved and wanted to restore imploding more with every second before he could possibly restore it, and he understood Rin now, and—

And more than understood Rin and that was absolutely the problem now as he peeked over at the scarf and hat clad boy who was pink cheeked with a red nose and pink ears and looking adorably cold despite the fact he had flames whenever he wanted.

Ryuuji’s eyes shot forward again and he was grateful the chill could hide the way his own cheeks went a bit pink as the chuchi Rin always just summoned in Ryuuji once again surged to life in his stomach.

“Just ahead,” he said gruffly, and a bit stupidly. Rin had been here. He knew where the ryokan was. It was visible and there were a few of the Myōō Dharani hanging in front of it.

Rin gave the happiest sort of bounce to find Ryuuji next to him now. He was happy to be away from True Cross for a little while and it was even better to get to spend the rest of break with his friends — especially Ryuuji.

The young monk had been catching Rin's eye more and more recently. (Actually it wasn't recently, but it had just intensified after the Impure King and the trip into Kyoto and then the undercut … he wanted to run his fingers through it.)

But he couldn't do anything about it because he was certain to be turned down and he was just happy to have friends.

He had enjoyed the final days in Kyoto and he hoped they'd have an even better time now without the Impure King stressing Ryuuji out so much.

"Yeah!" He said to Ryuuji, his tail brushing his friend's hand before lifting higher to wag happily in greeting to the Myōō Dharani monks. "I'm excited to be back!"

Ryuuji returned Rin’s smile with his own growing and let his eyes linger for a second before looking forward to the monks gathered at the front. Kinzou, Yumi (he could feel Konekomaru bracing himself for a flying hug), Shishamo, Mika, Chika, Ao, and Uta were all up front and half of them were waving like they weren’t all the only ones on the street and like they weren’t easy to spot.

They were all dorks, but they were his dorks.

“Hey!” Kinzou bellowed, waving all the hard. “Bon! And Rin!”

The way he said it made Ryuuji immediately miss a step, and his face heated in a hot blush that was mostly hidden by his hat and scarf.

What the hell was that tone about?”

“Koneko!” Yumi squealed and launched herself across the distance with a flurry of movement that had Konekomaru grunting as he was rocked back into an extremely indignant Izumo.

Ryuuji used that distraction to put the smallest amount of space between himself and Rin.

“Bon!” Ao and Mika called out in unison and then leaned into whisper something that had them both giggling and Uta whacking their arm with a shake of her own head.

Chika and Shishamo hurried across the space to help grab their luggage (and ogle Shura and her not at all to regulations Exorcist coat.)

“Aren’t you all cozy,” KInzou hummed, snagging Renzou and pulling him into a head lock as he kept smiling between Ryuuji and Rin.

Rin's hand moved up to where he was practically hiding in his scarf and Kuro who's little head was poking out of his bag.

"Yeah?" Rin agreed simply because at least Kuro looked perfectly cozy in the bag.

He felt like everyone was staring at him and he had sorta hoped everybody would have not been still hung up on the Son of Satan thing or the saving them from the Impure King. He smiled anyway and waved at the gathering crowd.

“Your parents are inside,” Uta offered, giving Bon a teasing smile as half the gazes went between him and Rin. Renzou was trying (and failing) to escape Kinzou’s clutches and Konekomaru was entirely wrapped up by Yumi who was asking Izumo questions about her hair clips.

Shiemi was hanging at the back with Yukio, both of them staring a bit too wide eyed, and Ryuuji could see Kinzou opening his mouth again, so he freed his duffle bag from Shishamo’s hand and jogged up to the engawa to get away as it felt like his face was much too red.

He had to be imagining that. They couldn’t know. It was just that he was standing next to Rin. No one could know about his crush. He’d barely even admitted its existence to himself.

He slid the door open, slipping his shoes off as he stepped inside and smiled (only a bit flustered) at his mother and father and more of the Myōō Dharani, all bustling around busily for the upcoming wedding.

Rin hurried to follow Ryuuji, eager to get inside and hopefully away from all the too wide grins. (And before he could get knocked over by the flailing Shima brothers.)

He tripped his way out of his shoes and caught himself on a grumpy looking Yukio who'd followed him inside and he brightened up at the sight of Ryuuji's parents.

"Hi!" He called.

Ryuuji shifted to give him more space, catching sight of his father slipping past Juuzou and a few Deep Keep exorcists he didn’t know the name of. He made a beeline for him, not wanting to get lectured over his hair and the new spiral by his mom. She was going to be furious when she saw the bigger gauges and he didn’t think she’d approve of the undercut.

(It wasn’t because it looked like that was where Rin was going and his cheeks were still hot about the way Kinzou had said Rin and the fact that he had tried to walk close to Rin.)

“Ryuuji!” Tatsuma greeted, immediately moving in for a hug and hauling Ryuuji into it before he could resist. (He wouldn’t have, he just blushed at the noise he heard Izumo make.)

“Hey, dad.”

“Bon!” Juuzou cheered, coming over with a mildly frantic smile. He had a wedding in two days, it made sense.

“Ah, Rin,” Tatsuma added as he released Ryuuji and he reached for Rin’s hand, using it to pull Rin closer so he could set his other hand on Rin’s arm and give him an affectionate squeeze. “I see you two have still made up.”

“We didn’t— it wasn’t a fight.” Ryuuji was blushing again and grateful he hadn’t taken the scarf off yet.

Rin laughed softly, relaxing into the kind, fatherly touch that he missed so much it hurt. He gave a smile because he didn't know…

"The Impure King stuff? That wasn't… was that a fight?" Rin directed the last question to Ryuuji, looking at him with wide eyes.

Torako pulled Ryuuji away from Tatsuma to give him a hug that looked far too tight but entirely loving as she ran a hand over his hair.

"I approve of this hair much more. You look wonderful." She said with a wide smile.

Ryuuji blushed, torn between who he should talk to, but he gave his mom a warm smile and returned the hug. (Better than a lecture.)

“Thanks, ma.”

“Was it not?” Tatsuma asked, smiling mischievously. “My mistake. It’s still nice to see you two getting along.”

“We—” Ryuuji’s attention was immediately returned to them as his blush darkened again “—it wasn’t—”

“Of course not,” Tatsuma said congenially and moved on to greet Konekomaru with a final squeeze of Rin’s arm, leaving Ryuuji there with his mom messing up his hair and a blush.

Torako looked suddenly apologetic, almost exaggeratedly so, as she sighed and ran her thumb over Ryuuji's cheek. (He was getting so scruffy . He wasn't a baby anymore.)

"I hope you two don't mind, but we are having Ryuuji share his room with you, Rin sweetie. The wedding has us booked out! We have Yukio with Konekomaru and Renzou gets to go home." She said in a soft voice.

Rin's heart leapt and he was blushing before he could stop it as his eyes immediately went to Ryuuji as Torako held a hand out to him.

Ryuuji was certain he had to have misheard that for a moment. The plan had been for him to share with Koenkomaru and the twins to take one of their rooms and them to take the other.

But apparently that had been switched and now he was blushing. (He hadn’t actually stopped.

“I—what?”

“Yes,” Konekomaru agreed from behind him. “That was the plan?” Yukio nodded his own agreement and passed by to congratulate Juuzou.

It sure as hell hadn’t been. Ryuuji would have remembered that plan.

“We—” Ryuuji cut himself off and swallowed at how high his voice had sounded. “Is that okay, Okumura?”

Rin blinked dumbly for a long moment before brightening. "Yeah! I don't mind."

Someone coughed in the crowd and Torako beamed.

"Wonderful! You kids go get unpacked and we can get to work." She said, practically herding them out.

Tatsuma shot her and Konekomaru a wink as Kinzou grinned mischievously and Renzou still struggled to get free.

Ryuuji walked towards his room, wide-eyed and only internally panicking a bit.

“Right in here,” he offered (croaked.) He slid the door to his room open and motioned inside, eyeing it for anything weird and embarrassing and blushing darker at a few of the posters he had up.

His futon was rolled up in the corner, and sure enough, there was a second beside it. He’d need to move his prayer mat for Rin, and it still wouldn’t be a lot of space. He didn’t have a particularly large room.

He stepped further into it, striving to keep walking normally (because it felt like he wasn’t at all) and stopped by the dresser, setting his bag next to it and daring to pull off his hat and scarf and set them on top of it.

“Just, uh, make yourself at home.”

Rin went inside, eyes wide and drinking in the room and how rich in Ryuuji's personality it was. There were collections of prayer beads and such a Ryuuji mix of Buddhist flair and punk (that made Rin's knees weak.)

He slipped inside and set his bag close to the door to keep it out of the way. Kuro meowed and hopped out of the bag to probably look for someone to feed him.

"Cool! It suits you!" Rin praised, giving Ryuuji a wide grin. He sat down on the floor and took off his scarf and jacket, already a bit too warm and it was guaranteed to get worse with the room smelling like Ryuuji and him being right there .

Ryuuji’s eyes shot to Rin and stayed a moment longer than they should, and felt his cheeks darken all the more.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, and wondered if that was the right answer. It sounded a bit lame as he tugged off his own jacket and set it on the dresser too.

“I get up early,” he added, absolutely not thinking about the fact that Rin would be sleeping right next to him. This was some kind of devilish temptation. (Fitting that it was Rin, but Ryuuji couldn’t imagine what he’d done to earn that sort of karma.)

“But I won’t wake you up.” He grinned and tried to make it look normal. “Don’t worry. I’ll let ya sleep in past six.”

"Oka— wait! Don't wake me up at six-thirty!" Rin said because that seemed like a smart ass thing Ryuuji would do.

(And he would give Rin that teasing, smug look that had made Rin want to hit him before but now he just loved it. )

"I stay up late!" Rin offered in exchange. He had trouble going to sleep on a normal day… it might be impossible with Ryuuji sleeping so close.

“I sleep like the dead, so that’s not gonna be a problem. And understood, it’ll be six-fourty five then.” He gave Rin a wink and looked away before Rin could see the blush.

“Do—”

There was a polite knock at the door that had Ryuuji looking over in confusion. It slid open before he could say anything and Mika leaned in with a broad smile on her lips and a bit of black hair in her eyes.

“You two are on mochi duty with me, the Hojos, and Shigemichi,” she informed them.

“We’re what?”

“You’re going to be making mochi. For dinner. We’re going to be making a lot. You know how the Shimas eat.”

She gave Rin a grin before looking back at Ryuuji with mischief in her eyes. “You said Rin was a good—no, fantastic cook, didn’t you, Bon?”

Ryuuji no longer had a scarf to hide his blush.

#bonrin #bon x rin #ao no exorcist #blue exorcist #my tumblr fics #ryuuji suguro #rin okumura #ryuji suguro #bon suguro #okumura rin #suguro ryuji #suguro ryuuji #bonfire #bonxrin #bon/rin

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greenorangevioletgrass · 3 years ago

Text

wildest dreams (t.h.)

“nothing lasts forever, but this is gonna take me down.”

masterlist | kofi

pairing: tom holland x domme!reader

summary: tom sets out to blow off some steam at a bdsm club during the far from home press tour in bali... and gets so much more.

word count: 8,275

warnings: language, drinking, shenanigans, harry and sam make a cameo, d/s dynamics, dominatrix!reader, a lot of yearning, a lot more smut! (specific warnings under the cut!)

notes: here we are, folks! it started with a gossip blind item and now we’re here. this wouldn’t have come to fruition if it weren’t for @shipping-not-sailing and @tommysparker ily guys <3 enjoy!

smut warnings: [degradation, punishment, pet names, slight pet play?, spanking, use of riding crop, light bondage, dirty talk, edging (both sexually and emotionally lmao), oral (f), unprotected sex, very brief anal fingering]

***

Amazing. Brilliant. Show-stopping. Next level. Just the best.

Spread over four cities and about a million interviews for this one movie, Tom has heard all the possible compliments known to man. And it’s not like he doesn’t appreciate them —too much ego-stroking just makes him feel uneasy. He’s not really saving the world from super-villains and global catastrophes. Hell, he’s not even the real hero of the job; he just runs around playing pretend in tight spandex, while the stunt team and VFX do a lot of the weightlifting. It makes him feel undeserving of the praise.

Of course, being Tom Holland, he’d sooner be caught dead than coming off as less than enthusiastic (or worse, downright rude) during his press junkets. Sometimes professionalism is about taking it in stride. So he smiles through the interview, once again joking about how much Marvel keeps him out of the loop when asked about a spoiler for the next Spider-Man movie. If there will be any more of it.

“I mean, I would love to do more. I’d play Spider-Man for as long as I can, if I’m honest. But, uh, let’s hope Marvel and Sony feel the same, too,” he replies diplomatically.

Meanwhile, his mind wanders to what he should do to unwind when the day is over. He could go swimming —the villa he’s staying in has a private infinity pool overlooking the sea. Or he could grab a few drinks and check out a club; he is in Bali, after all.

“Congratulations on a job well done. It’s really the best Spider-Man movie so far and you’re the best Peter Parker ever, and once again. Thank you very much, Tom.”

The praises hit him like bricks, and it takes him everything to not wince as he shakes the interviewer’s hand. “Cheers, mate. Nice meeting you.”

Tom knows just what to do to unwind. Truth be told, he’s been thinking about it since the world premiere in LA, but surrounded by all his friends, there’s no way he’d have the time or space for this. Besides, he figured he could save this for a rainy day.

And if that rainy day happens to just… happen in the vacation/party capital of the world, he sure isn’t complaining.

The room goes into a lull in between interviews, and Tom uses this to send Harry a link captioned,

Tom: can u sus out this place for me mate? thanks

He sees Harry reach into his pocket on the corner of the room. The redhead leans against the wall and pauses, probably opening the website and skimming through the content. His eyes widen for about two seconds until he looks around, making sure nobody’s watching or peeking at his screen and composing himself.

The website’s shows ‘The Edge of Uluwatu’ on the header in a clean white font against the sleek black background. But the layout is about the only thing that is simple about this. The homepage boasts a slideshow of artsy, provocative pictures of a riding crop bitten between a woman’s red-stained lips, teeth bared like a vixen. Another woman with her stiletto heels against a man’s face, a la Margot Robbie in The Wolf of Wall Street, except the man is half naked and wearing a leather collar around his neck, the very rope tugged by the same woman herself. Another picture of arms bound behind their back in an intricate shibari tie, gentle hands fastening it.

Harry manages to keep a straight face as he types up a reply.

Harry: what the fuck????

Tom: just ask ade man, cmon pls 🙏

Harry glares at him, but Tom merely glances at the person in question. Ade, Tom’s liaison officer in Bali, is a young woman not much older than the lot of them. She has a warm smile, but something about her also screams a solid ‘Do not fuck with me’ vibe. In summary, Harry has no idea whether she would laugh in his face or tell him to piss off.

Harry scowls, but comes up to Ade at the craft service table anyway. He picks up a bottle of water as he gathers the word (and what’s left of his pride) in his head.

“Hey, Ade. Listen,” Harry clears his throat, his voice feels scratchy. His heart all but drops to his knee when she turns to him, “We don’t have anything scheduled for Tom tonight, right?”

“No. Unless you want me to set something up for you…?” Ade offers, already taking out her phone out of her back pocket. Ever so efficient, she might just be better than Harry at this job.

“Um, I was thinking of checking out a club…”

“Sure! What vibe are we looking for? Signature cocktails? Great live music? Private beach area—”

“Have you ever heard of The Edge in Uluwatu?”

It takes Ade less than two seconds to catch on, but God, if it isn’t the longest pause Harry has ever felt. “Uh… yeah. It’s not so much a ‘drinking and dancing’ kind of nightclub as it is a, how do you say it… a gentleman’s club,” she smiles politely, meaningfully to make sure he understands.

Harry makes a mental note about how he’ll kick Tom’s ass for what he’s about to ask Ade. He squares up and says,

“I know. I was wondering if it’s legit, as in proper and — um,” he looks around the room to make sure nobody’s listening in, “kink-friendly.”

Ade raises an eyebrow as it finally dawns on her what exactly this Linguine-looking dude is looking for. She must’ve thought he’s one hell of a kinky boy. But she nods in all seriousness. “Oh, it is. Yeah. We get a lot of VIP guests going through there —actors, musicians, businessmen… they’re very discreet. Real class.”

That went down easier than I hope, Harry muses. “Cool! Um.” he shifts on his heels. Already bracing for the worst, he’s not sure what to do with himself now. Should he explain himself? Does he need to arrange something? How the hell do you make an appointment at a club like that?!

“I’ll arrange a car for… 10.30 tonight, is that okay?” Ade gratefully, kindly puts him out of his misery and pats the poor boy on the back as she goes to greet the next interviewer.

“Well?” Tom looks up expectantly as Harry walks past him.

“How do I say this…” he stuffs his hands in his hoodie pocket, “I want a big fat raise and a new camera.”

Tom simply laughs. A small price to pay for a naughty good time, really.

***

The Edge seems like any other luxury resort on the island. Tucked behind winding roads and lush greens on each side, the handsome minimalist villa sits on top of a cliff, with waves crashing against the rocks down below. A spacious foyer, tastefully decorated with local sculptures and warm lighting, greets incoming guests, where they’d be escorted into one of the rooms on either wing of the building.

But of course, the rooms aren’t ordinary hotel rooms. Behind each door is a suite professionally decorated into a theme, from sensual French boudoirs to classic sex dungeons and medical suites to cater for clientele with every kind of taste.

Currently, Y/N is sitting in the Moulin Rouge-inspired room-- lush purple walls and rich red sheets and Bohemian decor- fixing up her sheer dressing gown in front of the vanity mirror, making sure her wine-colored lipstick and batwing eyeliner are flawless.

She receives a text message from the front desk. ‘Your client is here. On the way to you now.’

And from there, it’s just a waiting game.

Y/N would drape herself on the daybed sometimes, or sit by the massive four-poster bed, or hang back at the break room to make them wait an extra minute or two. Play up the dramatics of this gig.

But tonight… It feels like a low-key night. She’d read the dossier of her incoming client —someone new. Nothing too extreme, as far as kinks go. It should be an easy enough session to cap off her shift. So she stays seated on the plush bench and plays with her hair while she waits.

The door makes a soft beep as it reads a key card from the other side, and Y/N sees her client’s face before he does. He spots her on the other end of the room and scrambles to close the door behind him.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were already here, I—”

Y/N raises a hand, promptly stopping this boy’s rambling. She doesn’t speak right away, and the tension is thick in the air. One might think she does it to tease him-- when in reality, she does it for her own benefit.

She only fell asleep watching Spider-Man on Netflix last night, after all.

“It’s alright. I just thought I’d… freshen up.” she finally turns around and stands to her full height, heels and all. She approaches her new client and offers her hand. “Tom, right?”

“Yes.” He takes her hand and kisses the back of it.

She stays cool and unfazed as she takes a better look at his face, now certain this is the same face she saw in the movie last night.

“Charming,” she remarks with a half-smile. “I’m Mistress Ivy.”

“Nice to meet you, Mistress Ivy.” he nearly bows before her, and she thinks it’s the cutest thing she’s ever seen in a while.

“Please, make yourself at home.” She motions over the entire room, choosing the daybed by the window to sit, fully knowing it makes her look like a painting of Venus.

Tom visibly gulps, glancing at the chaise and then back to her as he waits for her permission.

She gestures at the empty spot next to her and watches him sit down, keeping an appropriate distance between them. Like a good sub, Y/N notes.

“So what brings you here, Tom?” she crosses her legs and notices him looking.

“I, uh… I want to be punished.”

“Mm. And how do you like to be punished?”

“I… like to be spanked. And tied up. And degraded and called names.”

Y/N nods and smiles knowingly, noticing his clear and concise answer. “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Always good to know what you want,” she reassures him.

The two of them talk some more about the technicality of their session, and Y/N finds herself studying Tom a little further as he relaxes into the conversation. Flustered, but bold. Eager, but respectful. She briefly thought he was a sweet kid in the movie (she’d probably have a crush on him as a high schooler, she mused), but that’s about it. But now that he’s in front of her, she begins to see much more.

Tom is more on the petite side, but all lean and taut muscles, if his forearm and the lining of his fitted shirt and dress pants were anything to go by. He carries himself with such ease in his own skin— grounded and grown up, but not enough to get rid of the earnest air about him. His big doe eyes and the slight bump in his nose makes him all the more endearing.

She’s starting to think maybe she’d have a crush on him now, too.

“I gotta say… you look like a sweet boy,” Y/N muses as she makes her way towards the chest of drawers across the bed. “I wonder what you did that warrants a punishment, darling?”

His eyes darken and his cheeks redden at the pet name. “I… fuck. I’ve been an insufferable little shit all day,” he confesses.

“And a foul-mouthed one at that, too,” she notes, “Watch your language.”

“Right. Sorry.”

She looks at him pointedly. “‘Right sorry’ what?”

“Right, sorry, Mistress.” Tom looks down, though he can’t help stealing a glance at his alluring domme across the way.

“I thought you’ve done this before. Or should we start easy for a cocky pissbaby like you?” she coos mockingly, her head tilted to the side, still calm as can be.

Tom promptly straightens up. They’re not fucking around anymore now. “No, Mistress. I can take it. I promise.”

She takes one more appraising look at him. “We’ll see. Why don’t you strip down to your underwear while I choose the toy I’m gonna use to play with you, hmm? Can you do that, sweetheart?”

He normally likes the more brutal names, but the way she says ‘sweetheart’ feels like poison, and he can’t get enough of it. “Yes, Mistress.”

“Go on, then.” she turns away, as much as she’d like to watch him peel all those layers off of him. It’s so easy to forget how much this dom/sub dynamics is a test to her patience, too.

Tom slips out of his clothes in about 3.6 seconds, and he’s never been more thankful for his military training for an upcoming project. He stands up straight in front of the sofa, hands crossed in front of his lap to conceal his semi-erection.

“Are you wound up already?” Y/N glances down at his clasped hands.

“No…” He doesn't know how to answer that.

“You’re only gonna get in more trouble if you lie to me, baby…”

His head couldn’t decide fast enough if he wants to get in her good graces or get the punishment he’s been craving, and he ends up stammering around like an idiot.

She rolls her eyes impatiently. “For God’s sake. Are you or are you not hard right now?”

His first instinct is to try and will his boner away, but the more he does it, the more he imagines the punishment that awaits him.

And the harder he gets at the thought of that.

And stupidly, mindlessly, he still looks at her for an answer with, “No…?”

“Hands to the side, then. Let’s see it.”

Fuck. He slowly unclasps his hands, hoping for one last miracle that his erection would magically go away somehow. But of course, there he is, pitching a tent underneath his boxer briefs before even doing anything.

“Oh, you’re just looking for trouble, aren’t you?” she chuckles darkly. “I was gonna put you over my knees, but now I’m not sure I want your hard, leaking cock pressed against me.”

“No. Please, Mistress, I—” he drops to his knees, ready to crawl his way to forgiveness.

But she raises her hand, and he immediately halts. It’s amazing how her presence arrests his attention immediately; no raised voices, not even a curse word out of her. And yet he feels more deliciously tortured than he ever imagined he’d be tonight.

She doesn’t say anything for the longest time either. Just… studies him. His brown curls, even browner eyes, and his chiseled chest —rising and falling with each bated breath.

“Look so pretty on your knees, like a puppy,” she sighs. “Well, come over here, then. On all fours. Off you go.”

He makes his way across the room, and Y/N indulges in the workings of his back muscles as he crawls to her feet. Tom stops just inches away from your legs, remembering his place for once.

She makes the first move to run her fingers through his hair, and shivers at the touch just as he does. “Got anything to say to me?”

He looks up at her, “I’m sorry, Mistress.”

Y/N is mustering up all of her willpower to not give in to those big brown eyes. “Sorry for what, puppy?”

“I’m sorry for, for…”

“For being a pathetic little whore?”

Tom moans and hums.

She tightens her grip on his hair, tugs it back so he looks her in the eye. “Say it.”

His eyes shut and he takes a deep breath to brace himself. “I’m sorry, Mistress, for being a… pathetic little— whore who… couldn’t keep his own cock in check in front of his Mistress.”

Y/N’s eyebrows shoot up; she wasn’t expecting the second half of that sentence. But needless to say, she was pleasantly surprised. “That’s much better, isn’t it? My sweet, pathetic little whore.”

Tom nuzzles her leg, the side of his face rubbing against the sheer fabric of her dressing gown as she softly scratches his scalp.

“Ready for your punishment, whore? Mm? Are you?”

The looming threat underneath her soft, dulcet voice is driving him mad, and he can only nod and murmur ‘yes Mistress’ and ‘thank you Mistress’ as she orders him to bend over by the foot of the bed.

“Tell me,” she starts, “In a perfect scenario, what would your toy of choice be for your punishment?”

He grips the sheets hard. The only thing worse (or better, arguably) than the punishment itself is the anticipation. The sizzling moments of silence in between. There’s nothing he wants more than to look over his shoulder and see what his Mistress is up to. But something tells him she’ll deny him even further if he does.

So he swallows and says, “Your open hand,” his knuckles white at the thought of her sweet, soft hands on his body.

“Is that right?” there’s a hint of a smile in her voice.

“More than anything, Mistress.”

“Well. As much fun as that sounds, it’s not a punishment if you get what you want, right?”

He’s in deep fucking shit.

“But it’s not my punishment, so I can get what I want…” she croons. “And I want to use this on you.”

Tom gasps as soon as he feels it touch the back of his neck. It’s small and barely textured, the edges ever so subtly scratching his skin as she runs it down his spine.

“You’re gonna take it, aren’t you? You’re gonna take it anyway like the pathetic little whore you are,” she whispers in his ear.

He shivers and whimpers out a ‘yes Mistress’ more desperate than the last.

And then comes the swift swoosh of the riding crop, and then a snap.

Sharp and stinging against his backside.

He bites back a moan, unsure whether he’s allowed to make any sound.

“How do you feel?”

‘So good, Mistress, oh my God…”

Another strike lands on his right cheek, harder this time.

“Where the hell are your manners, huh?” she whips him on the other cheek.

“I’m sorry. Thank you so much, Mistress…”

“That’s more like it. Enjoying yourself, pup?” Y/N swipes the crop down the dip of his lower back and she swears he nearly buckles down.

He feels another lash on each of his inner thighs, where his boxer briefs meet his skin, “I am, Mistress, thank you,” and he finds himself arching his ass higher for her.

And for her only.

And this woman, with all her power and her pride, only scoffs at his response. “Well, you shouldn’t be. This is a punishment, remember?” Her smooth, honey-sweet voice is a stark contrast to the nasty cracks of leather against Tom’s skin.

She strikes him one, two, God knows how many more times. And for him, it’s both overwhelming and underwhelming at the same time. It sends him singing to the high heavens, yet it’s not enough to keep him floating in the air.

And like Orpheus and his star-crossed lover Eurydice, he eventually succumbs to his temptation. He catches a glimpse of Mistress Ivy, with her wine-colored lips between her teeth, the bell sleeves of her black dressing robe flowing over the motion of her arm. She looks…

Magical.

And as quickly as she sends him up to the clouds, she yanks him back to the ground with one sharp glare.

“No, no, no.” She turns his face away with her riding crop, letting it sit under his chin. “You don’t get to look, baby. You just get to take what I give you, okay?”

He faces forward and fixes his posture again, though not without a whine.

But once he’s had a taste, he can’t go back. With every lash, he moans his thanks. His pleas— for what, he’s not entirely sure himself.

“Please, please, please. Mistress, I…”

“What do you want, pup?” Y/N ceases her strikes and slides her riding crop right between his legs, right against his stubborn cock. Fluttery, feather-lightly. Fucking threatening.

Tom bites his lower lip to contain his needy whines. “More…”

“More what?”

“Just— more.”

He’s starting to lose balance on his feet and focus in his eyes, teetering on the edge of subspace, and Y/N motions towards the bed.

“Take off your pants and lie on your back in the middle of the bed.” she sends him off with a soft pat on his rump, and returns to the chest of drawers.

There’s a lull, but Tom likes it. He savors the precious moment of relief, to breathe and rest his shaking knees and sore ass —and oh how it tingles when his bare skin meets the silk sheets.

But most importantly, he gets to watch his Mistress take out a couple of silk ropes and walk over to the headboard, with the robe floating behind her. She sits by his side, palm open for him to surrender his wrist to, and he nearly swoons at how gentle her touch really is. His soft binds might as well be sandpaper compared to how deft and delicate she works them around his hands.

“You’re very pretty,” he pipes up quietly.

She smiles a little, “Thank you,” as she fastens the dark red rope on his other wrist, one against each side of the bedpost, and he swears it’s almost… tender.

Almost.

“Don’t think you’re getting away easy just by a little flattery, though,” she deadpans, and stands up on the side of the bed.

Y/N has to remind herself to slow down. Enjoy the moment. The view of this pretty boy, arms spread and restrained, carved up by the gods, entirely in her mercy. Fuck, she loves her job sometimes.

She tugs the string around her waist and lets her dressing robe slip off of her shoulders. The heat is starting to get to her— whether it’s from the exertion or simply from the tension, she’s not sure. But she loves putting on a show, and she loves seeing the wind knocked out of him even more.

Tom’s cock flexes at the sight of her and she thinks, gotcha.

“You’re enjoying this little punishment way too much, aren’t you.'' She lands an experimental whip on his pec, eliciting a strained groan out of him.

“No, Mistress…” he shuts his eyes hard, brows furrowed, like he’s trying to convince himself.

Crack! Another lash on his inner thigh. “Then what’s this, huh?” she whips higher one time, and then another, inching closer towards his erection.

He’s shameless squirming from the impact now. “I can’t help it, Mistress, please!”

“Please what?” The whip slides under his strong jawline.

A whimper, and then… “Punish my cock. Please.”

“Oh, this?” her riding crop moves swiftly along his curving member. “This desperate, pathetic cock of yours? In your dreams, slut.”

She slaps him across the face, and it is a miracle that he doesn’t cum right then and there— and quite frankly, it’s quite remarkable that she’s still able to stay calm and focused. His torso is her canvas, and with every strike, she paints it a little more red, a little bit every time. His tip leaks pearly tears as it envies other parts of his body that she deems worthy of her attention.

Little does he know, the rest of her world long faded away until it’s just him.

Sweat beads on her forehead, and the handle of her whip practically melds into her palm, now an extension of her limb. The way he squirms at every touch sends shivers down her spine. Oh, how badly she wants to feel his skin burning on her naked palm.

And by the way he strains against his binds and arches after every lash while chanting Mistress, he seems just as desperate for her, too.

“What is it, my little slut? Have you learned your lesson?” Y/N asks in a saccharine-sweet tone.

He tugs his wrists up. “I’ll be a good boy, Mistress, I swear.”

“That’s more like it, pup…” she smiles in satisfaction, reining in her punishment for the finale. “How about we do 5 more lashes, and then we’ll get you out of these ropes, hmm?”

But he turns away, his jaw flexing as he processes your words. “You haven’t… you haven’t punished my cock once— please?”

Y/N’s ice cold facade has melted for the most part, and it takes her everything to not give him… well, everything.

“Such a good little whore, asking for his punishment…” she coos condescendingly. “But you can’t cum, alright? Not during, not after. Can you keep your cock in check for me, puppy?”

“Anything for you, Mistress,” he sighs, resting his head back on the soft pillow.

It’s not like she didn’t want him to cum. If she had it her way, she would’ve straddled his lap and jumped his bone in a heartbeat. But the club applies a strict no-sex policy, and it weighs her down in the back of her mind like a distant, persistent alarm.

The last five lashes are the most torturous of all— not just for him, but for her. His cock presses stubbornly against his toned abs, the wide patch of skin now glossy from precum, and the two of them put all their mind to counting down the final moments of the punishment, distracting them from the one true temptation.

For Tom, it’s coming undone from her ministrations. For Y/N, it’s letting him do so.

Five. Four. Three.

Two.

One.

For a split second, Tom is actually convinced he’s gonna lose his mind as the orgasm teeters on his every nerve ending. And then…

Nothing.

It dissipates until it’s nothing but a dull ache, and by then, he feels a gentle tug on his wrist. One and then another. And then he’s free, though he makes no effort to test it.

“Tom?” The same sweet voice from earlier calls out. Quietly. Carefully. “You still with me?”

The bed dips next to him, and he finds himself reaching out. “Mistress?”

“Hey…” there’s no malice in her voice anymore— no mischief. “You did so good for me, baby.”

He feels her hand on his wrist, rubbing gentle circles with her thumb, and he feels like he just won the lottery. “Thank you,” he breathes out.

Her soft fingertips travel up to his shoulder, soothing his tender skin with her palm. On his chest, his flushed cheeks, on his pronounced hip bones, and taut inner thighs. Falling asleep has never felt so easy, but he fights the urge to meet her eyes.

Her kind, curious eyes looking down at him — studying him, much more earnestly this time.

“Are you alright? Do you need anything?”

“Would you…” he swallows, just realizing how spent his throat is from the whispering and the whining and the begging, “Would you lie here with me, just for a sec?”

And Y/N wants to cry in relief. “Of course.”

She climbs into bed next to him, too close to give him space, but too far to alleviate the yearning between them. His hand is on his chest and she rests her palm on top of it, and if their legs get tangled on the sheets, neither of them say a word.

***

Two showers, eighteen hours and countless interviews.

That’s how long it’s been since Tom’s little recreational activity last night, and he’s still not able to get it off of his head. He’s running on autopilot, answering the same questions over and over again, all the while terrified he might blurt out something he’s not supposed to.

He doesn’t even realize he’s shaking hands with the last interviewer of this press tour leg until the person had left the room. Barely remembers getting into a car. Stepping out at a beach club and having a drink with Sam, Harry, and Ade.

“You alright, mate?” Sam frowns, snapping him out of his reverie.

“What? Yeah, sure.” Tom expertly waves him off. “It’s just been a long day, is all.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to go scuba diving tomorrow!” Harry groans, but then turns to Ade. “I mean, ‘surfing’, for the record. We are going surfing tomorrow.”

Ade laughs. “You know I was assigned to be buddies with you guys to make sure you don’t get into anything stupid, right? Marvel’s not letting you off the hook that easily.”

“Exactly, we’ll take what we can get,” Sam retorts without missing a beat. “And hey, you also get to break the rules with us a bit.”

The twins exchange mindless banter with their chaperone, but Tom simply laughs along. His mind is elsewhere.

“I’ll get the next round, alright?” he gets up from his seat and heads towards the bar. He signals the bartender over, finding an empty spot between a massive Viking-esque dude and a woman in a pale blue sundress at the bar.

“Hi, can I have four more Guinnesses, please? Thanks.”

Tom keeps his head down, wary of getting noticed, but he can’t help feeling a pair of eyes boring into his side.

“Holy shit.”

Her voice should have set him off. He should have ducked out before the patrons mobbed him for selfies and Spider-Man-related questions, but something about her— her timbre, her inflection made him stop.

And when he looks up, he’s convinced he was making shit up in his head.

“Mistress Ivy, I… wow. Hi.” He knows he shouldn’t say it, but otherwise he wouldn’t be able to tell if it’s true or his mind is playing tricks on him.

She laughs, and oh God, what a sweet laugh she has. “I don’t go by that out here. I’m off the clock, see?”

“Well, nice to meet you, Mistress Off-The-Clock. I’m Tom.”

“Charming,” she grins, saying the exact thing she said last night— because she means it. She offers her hand, “I’m Y/N.”

The irony of shaking hands, again, after everything they’ve been through the other night is not lost on them, as they each hold back a smile.

“So, uh, what brings you here?” Tom asks, gingerly scratching the back of his neck.

“It’s my night off,” Y/N motions at the beer bottle in her hand.

“Oh, same.” He regrets responding so quickly— now he has no idea where to go with this conversation. All he knows is he doesn’t want this to end yet. So he gambles his life and says,

“Do you wanna get some air?”

She raises her eyebrows, and he could recognize that look anywhere. That amused, knowing look she makes every single time he does something bad last night. “What about your four Guinnesses?”

Tom looks at the new, full beer bottles in front of him, and back at his table, where the trio is talking and laughing without a single care. So he faces her again. “They’ll be fine.”

It’s always strange to run into a client outside of work, but Y/N has to admit, this time, it’s not… unwelcome.

“Shall we?” Tom tilts his head towards the beach, and with that, she leads the way out.

Y/N takes off her sandals as soon as they step off of the deck, and they walk for a little bit. Arms accidentally grazing as they move away from the hustle and bustle of the bar, closer towards the gentle waves and quiet rustles of leaves. They walk and walk until the crowd feels distant and they sit under a palm tree with their toes buried in the sand.

She watches him become himself —confident and earnest at the same time. He doesn’t say much about the glitz and glamour of his work (he doesn’t think she’d be impressed by it anyway), but she likes how he lights up when he talks about home. He is every bit as fascinated about her work and her completely unrelated university major. It’s refreshing, and a painfully easy non-first date. And she’s completely right that she would have a crush on him.

In fact, she might already have.

Tom takes a swig of his beer, partly in amazement of her academic achievements, and partly in good-natured self-deprecation. “Aw man, I could never do what you do. School was rough for me. My parents put me through Catholic school for a while and—”

“Catholic school, huh? Is that why you turned out so… perverse?” her smile grows wide and naughty.

“Hey! Don’t kinkshame me,” he nudges her elbow, quietly impressed that he didn’t spontaneously combust at the touch.

But she’s always one step ahead of him, and God, he loves that. She leans back on her forearm and lies on her side, looking like Venus under the moonlight with wits as quick as Hermes.

“I’m not! I’m just… wondering if the whole punishment and degradation thing had anything to do with your, uh, upbringing.”

“No!” He answers a little too quickly, and questions himself. “I mean… I don’t think so. Wait, do you think it was…?”

“I mean, who knows, maybe you were called into the headmaster’s office one too many times…” Y/N side-eyes him as she drinks.

“Ew, that’s gross!” he makes a face, and he rolls onto his back laughing in feigned disgust.

They inch closer together like gravity, and soon they’re lying face to face, not quite touching. Almost.

“Okay, okay, okay. How did you get into it?”

“Well, my ex-girlfriend kind of roped me into it,” he chuckles at his own little pun. “We started off easy —some spanking, some light bondage… and then worked our way up.”

Y/N nods in approval. “A woman with great taste. I respect that.”

“She is, yeah. The relationship didn’t work out, but at least I figured out what I liked, right? What I need sometimes…” he trails off.

It quiets down, and she almost doesn’t want to ask. But he meets her gaze, and it’s almost like an invitation. You’ve broken down the walls, no need to get courteous at the door anymore.

“And what’s that?”

“I need to... let go, that’s what I fuckin’ need to do sometimes,” he laughs wryly, “I get super stressed out about work and, you know, keeping things together for press tours and all this, so… getting my ass beat and brought down a few pegs feel grounding somehow. Weird, I know.”

“Not at all,” she reassures him softly. “I mean, shit, it’s what I do for a living.”

“How did you get into it?” Tom turns to her, his smile almost cocky and challenging. It’s infectious, and she can’t help smiling back.

“Similar story, actually. An ex-girlfriend put me up to it— sweetest little sub, shame it didn’t work out. But she was the one who suggested I do this professionally, actually.”

Y/N has this way of telling so much by saying so little that endlessly amazes him. It takes him a few seconds to even choose what to process first; the fact that she had a girlfriend (which low-key blew up his straight boy mind, in the best way) or that anyone would have that experience with her for the first time and think of sharing it.

He is shocked, baffled, envious, and ultimately, thankful for it all. If it weren’t for that tiny suggestion, he wouldn’t have been here, lying under nothing but the moon and the tree, unveiling the most naked parts of himself with her in every sense but one.

“Well. You’re very good at it,” Tom finally, lamely remarks.

But she closes the gap between his hand and hers, and taps his wrist once. “Thank you.” her eyes bore a piercing gaze, but he can’t seem to meet her halfway just yet.

“I hope it’s not inappropriate of me to say, but… I haven’t stopped thinking about last night.” he toys with the sand under his fingertips, pliant to form yet stubborn to grasp. It’s a bit like this little encounter that way.

She hums, quiet and content. “Don’t worry, you’re fine. If I’m being honest... neither have I.”

He only looks up then. “Really?”

“Yes.” She meets his eye, devoid of mischief— just pure, simple, maybe a little funny truth.

They gravitate closer and closer towards each other, finding it increasingly harder to maintain this space— and for what? When their lips meet, it feels like connecting two missing pieces of the puzzle, and the more they touch, the more they make sense. The more they become one with the earth they’re tethered to and the sky over their heads.

But they’re insatiable. They’ve tasted pure bliss and they crave more, more, more.

Tom just barely pulls away from her sweet lips, his hand cupping her face like he’s afraid she might turn to dust. “Do you wanna get out of here?”

“You’re my client. I shouldn’t…” she leans her forehead against his, nuzzling his nose, even as she says it. She doesn’t want to let go and she knows it.

“I was,” he corrects her. “I mean, I’d hardly be in Bali much anyway, right?”

“Such a smartass,” she rolls her eyes, although she doesn’t fight the smile on the corner of her lips. Or the voice in her head that says, keep going until I’ve run out of reasons not to do this with you.

“I know. I was hoping you’d do something about it?” he pouts and plays up those big brown eyes, and she’s gone.

“Behave, puppy.” she goes in for another kiss, and then—

There’s buzzing in Tom’s pocket.

It’s jarring and sobering and he groans.

“Shit. I’m so sorry. One second.” he picks up the call. “Harry? Yeah, I’m just outside…”

Y/N gets up to give him some space —some room to back out before they go forward with this. Nothing would have happened, and they can go back to their own lives. No harm done. No hard feelings.

But Tom sees her stand up, immediately at a loss of her warmth in his close proximity. Brushing white sand off of her legs, akin to some bronze sculpture of a deity he doesn’t know the name of. The wind blows in her hair and her sundress, and for a moment, the moonlight hits her side profile just right. And there’s just no way he’s leaving her for anything tonight.

Harry’s voice sounds distant and distorted with background noise, and Tom cuts him off immediately. “Listen. We have the morning off, right?”

The younger boy pauses. Then tuts. “It’s that girl, innit?”

Reducing this insanely beautiful and sexy and smart person to just ‘that girl’ feels like an understatement, so Tom just chuckles. “Bro, you have no idea.”

“Ugh, fine. But if you’re late tomorrow, we’re going scuba diving without you,” Harry relents. “Take care. Don’t do anything overly stupid.”

“Bye, mate. Love you.” he hangs up the phone, and gets on his feet to catch up with her.

“Well?” She stands tall, straight, and they both feel her walls building back up to brace for what’s coming next.

“It’s my brothers. They’re going back to the hotel.”

“Oh.”

“Told ‘em to go home.”

“Oh.”

She’s quiet for a moment. Then, as sure as day, she offers her hand,

“Well then. Shall we?”

***

Y/N’s house is a stone’s throw away from the beach, tucked in a quiet street just off of the main road. The wooden gate opens up to a carport, where her silver city car and scooter are parked. Next to it is a small swimming pool against a wall covered in wisteria and climbing jasmine, with one pavilion on either side.

They walk past the first pavilion, a bright and spacious living area that opens right up to the pool. A guitar is propped against the couch, and Tom briefly pictures Y/N serenading herself on slow nights.

“Wow. You have a really nice place,” Tom remarks as she welcomes him into her second pavilion, an eclectically decorated bedroom with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the pool.

“You sound surprised.” She pulls him in, nuzzling his nose with hers.

“I just didn’t expect it to be so…”

“Not sex dungeon-y?”

He grins just a breath away from her lips, “Kind of?” and closes the gap once again.

Their lips are bound, but they feel untethered. There’s no nosy fan or paparazzi or club policy threatening to interrupt their time together. And God, he wants all the time in the world to worship this girl’s everything.

In that moment, Y/N tugs the halter ties on the back of her neck, and her little sundress falls to the floor. Tom feels it slip through his fingers and then his hands meet her skin. Soft. Warm.

He tears himself away, just to take a good look at her. “Shit…”

And there she is. No piece of clothing on her body (not even panties, Christ), and no fucks to give in her confidence or her boldness— and why should she? She’s the most alluring creature he’s ever met.

“Like what you see?” she hums, backing him up until he’s sat on the edge of her bed.

He forgets how to use his voice for a moment, and just nods dumbly.

She doesn’t hide her amused, enamored laugh when she lets him pull her into bed. Nor the happy sighs when he peppers kisses down her neck. All over her soft chest.

“Can I… Just wanna—” he nips at her diamond-hard nipple and she moans at the sharp sensation.

“What do you want, puppy?” she lazily runs her fingers through his messy curls.

“I love it when you call me that…” he groans, moving onto her other nipple —gentler somehow, like he’s thinking. “Wanna… fuck, I wanna taste you. Please?”

She’s definitely just as wound up as she is, yet still she can’t resist teasing him. “Oh? Have you been thinking about it since last night?”

“Fuck yeah I have. I didn’t— fuck…” he feels her thigh rubbing at his stiff cock through his pants and he nearly blacks out. “Kept thinking if you were wet when you were punishing me. Wanted to eat you out as a thank you.”

She bites her lower lip. “I’ll let you in on two things.”

He perks up, paying good attention even in his state of arousal.

“One... I was wet since you crawled over to me,” she whispers in his ear, and feels the shiver running down his spine. “And two… I wouldn’t mind that delayed gratification.”

And with that, Tom’s eyes turn pitch black as he slithers down between her legs. He spreads her thighs and dives right in— burying his face in her wet pussy.

“Holy fuck…” Y/N gapes, his mouth flooding her senses in the best ways imaginable.

And in all honesty, she has imagined how Tom eats her out a lot. She imagines him soft and tender, maybe a bit shy, but definitely eager to please— but not like this. All pussy drunk and ravenous and shameless in sucking her clit and fucking her with his tongue. Too out of it to even ask for permission like he usually does. The only thing coming out of his mouth is just muffled groans as he devours her.

And fuck, does he devour her well.

His ministrations make her clench around nothing, and she’s fully ready to get bossy. But before she even makes a sound, she feels a finger slipping inside, and another. Long. Skillful. Beckoning her closer to orgasm.

“Yes, ohmygod. Like that, just like that…” Y/N rambles on as he strokes that spot inside her.

He curls and curls his fingers in as she falls apart, and he kisses her clit for good measure. She feels her pulse under his mouth and then everything else blurs into a haze of pleasure.

But then he doesn’t stop. He continues laving at her clit and slobbering on her weeping cunt for every drop of her arousal, pumping it in with his digits, and it sends her shaking again.

“Baby…” she gasps, pulling his hair like it’s the hardest thing to do, “Slow down.”

He wills himself to unlatch from her pussy, but even then, he still kisses down her inner thigh. “You taste so good. Wanna make you feel so good forever, too.”

“That’s very sweet of you,” she smiles, “But what about you, huh?”

“Don’t care,” he murmurs into her skin.

But she pulls him up so he’s hovering on top of her. Chin glistening with her juices, hair sticking out in all directions, lips sucking his own wet fingers clean… he’s the prettiest little thing she’s ever seen.

“But I do.” Y/N’s hand traverses down his body, feeling his stiff cock painfully strain against his pants. “In fact, I’ve been thinking about your cock all night. You’re not gonna deprive me of that, are you?”

He vehemently shakes his head.

“Then take these off and get over here.” she sends him off with a cheeky smack in the ass, and Tom gets out of his remaining clothes even faster than last night.

He sidles up next to her and she wastes no time kissing him, tasting herself on his tongue.

“Fuck…”

“What is it?” she wraps her hand around his hard length, firm but not too tight.

He swallows. “Wanna be inside you. Wanna— shit— wanna make you feel so good.”

He’s so gone for her pussy, and she would tease him if she didn’t find it so fucking endearing. “Go on, then.”

Tom stops, like he’s not sure he heard it right. But she puts his cock between her legs, teasing her own clit with his tip, his arousal melding with hers, and he nearly loses his mind.

“Go on. Make me feel good, puppy.”

She kisses him one last time in agreement, in challenge, and something snaps within him. He props himself up, hovering on top of her as he lines his cock into her opening. So warm, so inviting. So…

Right.

There’s no words. No games. Just the overwhelming feeling of warmth and fullness and familiar body ache that takes their breath away. He fits her so perfectly —filling her and stretching her like she’s never felt before, she can’t imagine it getting any better than this.

Until he draws back and plunges himself in again, and she realizes… it does.

Tom feels like he’s possessed. Driven by blind, searing lust that just keeps burning and burning. He can’t get enough of how breathtaking she looks writhing in pleasure. Can’t get over how amazing she feels around his fingers and his cock and his body. Knowing that he’s serving his Mistress well.

And Y/N knows that, too. She makes a mental note to reward him with lots of kisses and more, but that comes later. Now… now she’d just sit back and enjoy how pretty he is, with sweat-damp curls framing his boyishly handsome face. His mouth hangs open, making way for those gorgeous moans. Lean hips rutting against hers, every thrust driving pleasure home to her.

She traces her hand along his jawline, admiring his profile from underneath him.

“So pretty— so good for me…” her thumb caresses his lower lip.

“All for you,” he breathes out, taking it in his mouth and sucking on it.

And as she gazes at his sunken cheeks, she fantasizes about him sucking on her strap-on before she returns the favor (another mental note she makes).

She finds her clit with her wetted finger, but he stops her.

“Wait. May I?” He looks at her with pleading eyes, kissing her wrist tenderly. “Please?”

Honestly, who is she to refuse such a request? She nods with a breathless chuckle, edging closer to her high as he draws patterns on her swollen bud.

Her mind is hazy with orgasm, but she has another idea. Her hand moves up his thigh, towards the swell of his ass, and she doesn’t miss how his breath hitches at the touch.

“May I?” she asks, trailing over the line of his backside.

He groans, eyes shuttering closed. “Yes,” he barely utters.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, please.”

“Yes, please… what?” Her nails are digging into his soft flesh, and it’s a miracle he doesn’t come right then and there.

Instead, he drops his head onto the crook of her neck. Mouth greedy on her skin, hands and hips picking up pace. Y/N strikes his ass once, quick and sharp and hard, and he blurts out,

“Yespleasemistress, Christ!”

The next thing he knows, her deft hand is splitting his cheeks and finds his taut ring of muscles and nothing else matters. Just their hands, stroking and coaxing each other, as they bring themselves closer. Towards each other.

Towards bliss.

Y/N finds Tom getting dangerously close, and captures him in a searing kiss. “Come for me, Tommy.”

He bursts into a nothingness of pleasure with her name on his mouth, and with that, she follows him into beautiful agony. Feeling full and whole and happy.

They lie there for God knows how long. There are no words; just lazy kisses and labored breaths, and bodies melded together. Y/N strokes Tom’s hair, his head resting on her chest, listening to her steadying heartbeat. Both of them trying not to count the hours until the sun rises and this encounter has to end.

If it ever does.

#wildest dreams fic #tom holland imagine #tom holland smut #tom holland oneshot #tom holland x reader #tom holland x woc!reader #tom holland x dom!reader #tom holland x you #hollandsrecs #aaaaa its hereeee!!!!#im scared but also excited #sub!tom #sub!tom holland

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fuckit-hero-of-trains · 3 years ago

Text

Sit by the fire until... Chapter 2

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25870150/chapters/81650737

Here’s the thing they don’t tell you when you get magically transformed into a bunny rabbit against your will by the corrupted darkness of the Sacred Realm: somethings, unfortunately, tend to stick.

Now, Legend isn’t saying that he’s hiding a cotton tail under his tunic or that his soul secretly aches to frolic in meadows or spend his time sleeping in holes or whatever else it is that rabbits do when they're not busy being very confused and scared twelve year old Hylians.

No.

But that doesn't mean he was left unscathed by having his entire anatomy re-written in less than an instant.

Because of course he wouldn’t. Goddess forbid he ever catch a break for once in his life.

He was still pretty young when it happened, so Legend can’t remember if his teeth had been quite so bucked before the incident. Regardless if they were or not, they sure as Hylia are prominent now. Then there's also the fact that he never really grew into his ears, the damn things always just a shade longer than they should be for a regular Hylian.

Before he joined this wild cucco chase masquerading as an adventure, Legend would sometimes catch himself looking at Ravio wondering, Is that how I would have looked? Besides the hair and eyes, the merchant was supposed to be his mirror image after all. Zelda and Hilda were, so it stood to reason that he and Ravio should be the same.

In which case, the bucktooth thing was going to be a problem regardless.

The ears, on the other hand, are a completely different story. From the quick glances Legend has managed to steal of Ravio’s side profile, the merchant has relatively short ears himself, which just make the Veteran’s own look comically long when the two stand side by side.

And ugh, and that wasn't even touching on his… less physical changes.

Namely, his cravings.

Noshing on some leafy greens while home alone doing some chores? A-Okay.

Getting caught by Warriors and Twilight absentmindedly chewing on the hay he was supposed to be feeding the horses? Ehhh, not so much.

Goddesses, his ego still hasn’t recovered from the amount of jokes the Pretty Boy had made at his expense. And that’s not even mentioning the veritable mountain of carrots he found in his bedroll, no doubt courtesy of that flea bitten farmhand.

Regardless of the less than natural way he got these… attributes, Legend couldn’t say they were all bad. ‘Cuz sure, his ears were a bit longer than average, but he could also hear better than most of his companions, able to catch the sound of crunching leaves above even their loud bickering. Like wise, his eyes were sharper than others in the low light of dawn and dusk, allowing him to see things others would miss.

Frankly, both skills had helped keep him alive during his quests. He was thankful for them in a weird huh, guess that works kinda way, but thankful all the same.

But sometimes Legend wanted to wring the goddesses necks because really? Being turned into a rabbit couldn’t have fixed this particular problem?

This particular problem being his absolutely horrible pollen allergies.

“ A-A-A!”

Each rapid, involuntary inhale feels like a simultaneous punch to the gut and a gasp for breath, the air yanked into his body and then stoppered up. It leaves the veteran in a state of limbo as a paralyzing calm falls over him; lungs full of air, shoulders hiked up, muscles tensed.

For a second, everything feels lodged in place, frozen, like the Champion had used his stasis rune on him.

And–

Legend clamps his mouth shut and tucks his face into his elbow just as tension snaps and–

“- acheew! ”

Nothing but a soft, cut off sneeze slips past his lips, yet, the force of holding it back still sends Legend bowing over. He stays there, hunched over for a breath as his body recovers, before he straightens back up, sniffing irritably as he tries to ignore the itch prickling at his eyes and the congested pressure throbbing behind his sinuses.

A chortling huff sounds next to him and when Legend glances down he can see Wolfie– or should he say, Twilight– peering up at him, mouth open and tongue lolling in a doggy grin, but icy blue eyes too pointed, too teasing, to be anything but human.

Legend's nose twitches tellingly as it begins to tickle again and the wolf gives another stuttering huff. A laugh. Legend can practically hear Twilight’s twangy, Awww. You sneeze like a bunny.

The bastard.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, dog boy,” Legend grumbles, wiping harshly at his face in an attempt to stave off another sneezing fit. “Don't you have trees to piss on or something?”

That earns him peeled back lips and a growl, but Legend just sends the other a responding sneer as strides past the grumpy wolf and out into the rolling field of tulips that stands in front of them.

Another huff, this one more annoyed than amused, sounds behind the veteran before the wolf streaks past him, loping through the flowers with his nose down and tail high.

Legend rolls his eyes.

Twilight loves to show his teeth, but the farmhand is quite literally all bark and no bite.

And besides, they both have better things to do than needle one another. If Legend is going to be miserable, he may as well take steps to make that misery as short as possible.

Afterall, they aren't out here swanning through a meadow of flowers for pleasure.

The last Dark Portal they had all walked through had, once again, separated them. Legend and Twilight were lucky enough to find one another quickly, though, now that Legend thinks about it, it probably had less to do with luck and more to do with Twilight’s nose.

After regrouping, they had tried to search for the others more that day, but a storm had them holed up in a cave overnight to wait out the deluge. They had gotten up early to start their search again today, but so far they had no such luck in finding any of the others in the forest.

Which just left the inexplicable meadow of tulips surrounding the wood.

Legend had been hoping that the rain would keep some of the pollen at bay, but nooo that would be too merciful, wouldn’t it?

If anything, the rain just made this whole experience more aggravating. Now, along with stinging eyes, a running nose, and a throbbing head, Legend also had the delightful honor of feeling the tulip stalks and leaves and petals sliding wetly across his skin, the annoying slap of his tunic smacking his thighs as it got more sodden by the second, and the disgusting squish of water between his toes with every step he took through this Wind Fish damned field.

And sure, maybe it was worth it to reunite with the other heroes, but really, would it kill the goddesses to make his life just a little bit easier.

A bark pulls Legend from his miserable musings. Twilight's dark tail stands out among the ocean of pastel pinks and yellows and oranges, wagging frantically twenty meters away. It disappears after a second, replaced by a muzzle and expectant eyes.

Twilight barks at him again.

He must have found something.

Finally, Legend thinks as he begins to make his way over toward the other, hopefully a reason to get out of this floral hell hole.

“What is it, boy?” Legend asks, voice going high and mocking as he takes delicate care stepping on as many flowers as possible, “Little Time-y fall down the well again?”

Instead of a growl for his effort, Legend gets a flurry of black flecks falling upward, like pieces of reverse snow, in his peripheral vision.

“You know,” Twilight says as he straightens to his full height, eyes half-lidded. Unamused, “You’re really not as funny as you seem to think you are.”

And before Legend can interrupt that– No, actually, you just have a dog shit sense of humor. Literally– Twilight continues, “I can smell the smithy all over this thing.” He nods down at a small tree stump breaking through the tide of flowers. “The scent is a bit old, probably from sometime before last evening, but still traceable. I should be able to find him from here.”

Legend eyes the stump for a moment, peering into the cracked hole in the top of the wood. Inside, he can see the round, red caps of several toadstools sprouting.

He can also sense magic. Close to that of the fairies– natural and glittering and smelling of moss– but not quite the same.

The Smithy’s doing?

Or a natural occurrence?

Regardless…

“Welp,” Legend says, straightening up, “Let's go find him. Couldn’t have gotten far on those little legs of his.”

“Again,” Twilight huffs, the black fractals already consuming him once more as he transforms, “You’re not as funny as you think...”

His voice distorts and fades into nothing as the magic swallows him whole, leaving Legend once again having a conversation with a very unimpressed looking wolf.

“I like you better when you can’t talk,” Legend tells Twilight as the other sets off, snuffling at the ground.

The other pauses to give Legend a look that would be more at home on a disapproving mother’s face, before continuing his tracking.

He also whaps Legend in the leg with his tail.

Hard.

The prick.

They continue on their trek together like that for a while, Twilight occasionally pausing to shove his nose into the dirt some more as he decides which direction to follow as Legend trails behind, keeping his eyes peeled for a quadripartite tunic and a head of straight, gold hair.

It isn't long before the farmhand turned canine breaks off into a light trot and then a jog, and then a full on sprint.

And stops just as suddenly.

Legend is out of breath by the time he slides to a stop behind the farmhand, but from a cursory glance around, there doesn’t seem to be a short, mouthy smithy anywhere in the vicinity.

“What happened?” Legend asks, still searching, turning circles as he cranes his neck, “Did you lose the trail?”

Twilight gives a light whine, grabbing Legend’s attention.

Then he does two full spins and sits primly, looking up at Legend.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Legend crinkles his nose at the canine. “Use your words.”

Wolfie rolls his eyes in a way that Legend didn’t think was possible for dogs and then stands.

The canine stares at him intently, as though making sure Legend’s eyes are locked with his own. And then he flicks his eyes over the yellow tulip he is sitting next to meaningfully. Then back to Legend. Back and forth back and forth, his eyes go for a full minute before he stops and stares at Legend once more.

Legend feels as his face wrinkles in confusion.

It's just a regular tulip, just like the thousands currently around them. Pretty enough, he supposes. The bulb seems to be a little wilted, like it's been weighed down by rain water perhaps, but other than that, nothing to sneeze at.

Or everything to sneeze at, if you’re Legend.

Legend gives the flower one more skeptical glance before turning to look at Twilight once more, brow raised.

“Pretty,” he assures the other. “Not sure how it helps us find Four.”

Twilight heaves another too human sigh.

And then he reaches up, takes the sleeve of Legend’s tunic between his teeth, and yanks.

“Hey!” Legend yelps as he’s dragged down into the dirt, “Watch the teeth! The embroidery on this thing took forever to do and even longer to enchant!”

Twilight pays him no mind, pulling him down and forward, closer to his chosen tulip.

Legend tries his best to keep his face away from the damn thing.

“I swear on The Three, if your slobber stains–”

Legend’s words crumple up and die in his throat.

There’s something in the tulip.

At first glance, Legend would identify it as the Smithy's earring. The small feathered one that he takes special care of. The one that Four refuses to tell Legend the origin of, besides his cryptic, “From a friend.”

Legend would say that it was just the earring, but… but it isn’t.

Rather than being completely red with a white tip, Legend can see that this little feather is only mostly red. Right before the tip, a darker red plumage takes over, followed by purple and blue and green.

Also, rather than being attached to the small, golden chain and stud Four uses to fasten the jewelry to his earlobe, it’s attached to a body.

A very, very small body.

By now, Twilight has let go of his sleeve, but Legend both doesn’t notice and doesnt care, all of his attention fixed on the little creature before his eyes.

From what he can tell, the little creature is asleep, curled up in the bulb of the flower, his feather tail tucked up near his nose for warmth. Looking past the plumage, Legend can see that the little guy has a very rat-like face, complete with a small, twitching pink nose, long whiskers and–because the creature is shivering– long, chattering rodent incisors. Oval shaped ears stick out from the creature's head, a mix between mouse-like and Hylian.

And framing those ears is shoulder length, soaking wet blonde hair.

Blonde hair held out of the little guy's face by a green headband.

And…

And he’s wearing the smithy’s tunic?

“... Four?” Legend whispers in amazement.

And just saying the other’s name out loud is like a spell because suddenly Legend can see all signs. The little guy has Four’s bag over his shoulder and the Four Sword at his hip. That same magic that was by the stump– the not-fairy, fairy magic– completely surrounds him, dusting him in the same way he is currently dusted in yellow pollen.

“Is that you, Smithy?” Legend asks a little louder.

But rather than startle awake, the small creature– Four, Legend reminds himself– simply hunkers down more fully into the flower, curling up more fully as his shivers increase.

“He must have transformed in order to speak with the Minish around here.”

Twilight’s voice, even though it is a whisper, gives Legend a start. He hadn’t realized the other had transformed, nor had he seen the farmhand crouch down by his side.

The other isn’t looking at him as he speaks, cool blue eyes instead locked on the fitfully sleeping smithy, face concerned.

“He once told me that the Minish are insatiable gossips. He must have transformed to try and find us.”

The concern on the farhand’s face darkens the longer he stares.

“He must have been caught out in the storm,” Twilight says grimly.

Legend tries to imagine what that would be like. To be the size of a mouse and out in a storm. Tries to imagine what it would feel like for gale force winds to pull at drag at him, crushing him into the dirt one moment and yanking off his feet the next. Tries to imagine dodging back and forth between tulips, avoiding the head sized, stone cold rain drops pelting down from the sky

It's not a pretty pictograph, he’ll admit.

And ugh, Legend really isn't a fan of what it's making him consider.

He spares another glance at Four.

And fuck, the little guy shivers and shivers and shivers until the fower he is sleeping in is shaking with it.

And then, he sneezes, the sound coming out tiny and squeaky and weak.

Son of a bitch.

With a sigh that is as weary and reluctant and annoyed as he can possibly force it to be even though the vetran is feeling none of those things, Legend takes hold of the flower near its stem. As gently as possible, he digs his nails into the soft green there, cutting the flower from the ground while keeping it intact.

He hands it to Twilight, who takes it from him with gentle, if slightly confused hands.

With one hand, Legend flips open his shoulder bag. With the other, he rips his hat from his head with a motion probably a tad more violent than is really called for. He arranges the hat inside the bag, making sure to cover his items with the soft fabric while also shaping a soft bed.

Without looking up from his work, Legend extends a hand out to Twilight.

Makes a grabbing motion when what he wants isn't immediately in his hand.

After a second, Twilight slowly places the stem of the flower back in Legend’s hand and the Veteran gently lowers it in the small nest he had created, making sure the bulb sits in a place both shielded from the sun and extra comfortable thanks to the extra fabric padding beneath it.

In one smooth motion, Legend takes a hold of the strap of his bag, pulls it carefully off of his shoulder, and places it on the other side of Twilight’s neck.

And then, he reaches down and touches the dark stone hanging from the necklace around the farmhand’s throat, letting the darkness flock around and consume him.

When Legend blinks open his eyes, Twilight is looking down at him smugly.

He is looking down farther than usual.

Also looking smugger than usual.

“Shut up,” he grumbles, shaking out his fur before hopping on all fours to get closer to the bag.

“I didn’t say anything,” Twilight replies, not bothing to wipe the smug look off his stupid face even as he lowers the bag to the ground for easier access.

“Yeah you did,” Legend hisses quietly as he clambers carefully into the satchel, settling down the nest of leather and items and hat.

He pulls the flower closer to his side where it is warm.

Inside, he can feel as Four’s shivers begin to lessen.

"Cute," Twilight laughs from above them.

"Fuck you," Legend whisper spits, though he makes no move to push Four's flower away. If anything, he pulls it closer when he hears the smaller hero start to make small, chittering snores, surprised the smithy could sleep through such a racket.

Twilight, thankfully, doesn't comment, instead pulling the top of the bag loosely closed to give them some shade. Then, Legend feels as he gently lifts the satchel back up, slings it slowly over his shoulder as to not disturb the contents inside, and begins walking, hopefully back in the direction of the forest.

Legend can still hear the farmhand laughing to himself from within the bag, but without the others' eyes on him, he finds he doesn't care.

The pollen still itches at his eyes and nose and Legend can still feel the pound of his sinuses even now. But something about the shade and warmth and soft rocking of the bag makes it hard for him to mind.

Four gives a harty twitch, kicking a petal directly into Legend’s face.

And even that doesn't dissuade the veteran from his task.

Instead, Legend sighs and pulls Four even closer, relaxing despite the discomfort.

He’s got dirt on both Twilight and now Four, the two heroes with sticks most firmly inserted into their asses. He can get out of whatever chores and lectures they try to pin him with.

Yep, he thinks , distantly. That's why he did this.

For the blackmail.

And no other reason.

#yes this is the live write that started the whole sneet thing #I write fluff and thats the thanks I get for it /j #lu legend #lu twilight #lu four #reluctantly soft legend is such a mood #I adore it #also #the image of minish four curled up asleep in a tulip made me go feral #so I had to share it with others #train writes #linked universe #linkeduniverse

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bluefuckboy · 4 years ago

Text

@slackslumber @king-queenie

This baby deserves its own post.

I’d like to say Incubus Kiri’s look is based heavily off his hybrid dragon form in the fantasy au

And with that I give you over 4K words of smut

Bakugo tossed another dirtied tissue into the wastebasket next to his desk. It joined the pile of similarly stained tissues and Bakugo felt a twinge of shame as he leaned back in his chair and sighed. The video on his computer was still playing and the sound of porn stars fucking now echoed a bit in his dorm room.

Bakugo hit pause and let his head fall onto the keyboard. Nineteen years and he was still in a steady relationship with his right hand. It was sad, but what was even worse was the fact that every time he tried to muster up the courage to finally go out and find someone to fuck, he would end up chickening out before the date even started.

It also didn’t help that he was into guys. It just made things harder since every guy he’d tried to hook up with thought Bakugo was ready to spread his ass for them no sweat. Like hell he was. He was the one who would be doing the fucking.

He sighed and picked up his phone to scroll through the group of apps he’d downloaded for the sole purpose of finding someone to finally lose his virginity with. All of them were a no go tonight and all the messages were just horny guys telling him how good he’d look pinned under them.

He was about to call it a night when his phone dinged with a message from an unknown sender. It dinged again, and again, and again, until Bakugo shut the sound off to silence the chorus of bells. It was the same message, sent to all the dating apps he had.

Of course his first thought was to delete it since it obviously must be some sort of spam, but he was curious too. He glanced at the message header.

Mistress Midnight’s Midnight Delights

The font was large and gothic and Bakugo’s curiosity got the better of him as he opened the message. It was a link to another app, which Bakugo downloaded for the heck of it since the description “Pleasure with the press of a button” had piqued his interest.

The app was set up like any other dating app would be, except there was no place to fill out a profile. Just categories which included Vanilla, S/M, BDSM, and one called V Card Removal. Bakugo clicked on it and was taken to a page that was exactly what he was looking for. It was a section dedicated entirely to first timers.

He was impressed with the frankness of the app as he scrolled through descriptions ranging from “soft and sweet” to “XXX.” He stopped at one that read “D/S.” He clicked on it and was greeted with several photos of gorgeous guy sprawled out in various positions.

There was a tall, lean guy leaning against a wall with a distant look on his face. His hair was two toned, half white and half red with what looked like a birthmark around one eye. He was very handsome, but Bakugo got the vibe he was probably under the Dom category and he was definitely looking for a Sub.

He scrolled through more photos. There was a guy with crazy yellow hair that looked like he’d been hit by a lightning bolt. He was even wearing what appeared to be a Pikachu costume, complete with ears and a tail that was clearly an anal plug. It made Bakguo’s cheeks hot, but it still wasn’t quite his type.

Another guy who looked the Sub part caught his eye. He was doey eyed with green hair and a spray of freckles over his nose and cheeks. He was laying on a bed, everything visible except for the goods, which were covered by his hands in Marilyn Monroe-like pose. There was even some sparkly linen covering one of this thighs.

Bakugo scrunched his nose up. Definitely not his type. That guy would probably cry during sex and then tell you he loved you as you were trying to sneak out the door the next morning. Bakugo wanted someone who would gladly suck his cock or ask him to fuck them and make him feel like this wasn’t a desperate final attempt to no longer be a virgin.

He scrolled past green haired boy and stopped as the next photo made him do a double take. It was a red haired guy, well built with a coy, toothless smile that made Bakugo’s stomach drop slightly. He was super cute and dressed in what appeared to be a doggy kink get up.

A bright red collar circled his neck and he was holding a bone in one hand while the other rested on his knees, which were pulled up to his chest, showing off just enough of his firm thighs to make Bakugo want to grip them tightly as he made the guy whimper like a naughty puppy.

Bakugo clicked on the picture. A pop up appeared.

Would you like to summon, Red?

Red must be what the guy went by, which was fitting. Bakugo found the wording a bit strange, but the slight sparkle in this guy’s eyes made Bakguo’s throat tighten up. He slammed his thumb onto the “Summon” option.

To his surprise the phone became searing hot in his palm. He cursed and dropped it onto the floor. It started vibrating violently and Bakugo was sure he must have just downloaded a virus. But then it stopped and the air seemed to thicken.

It felt like it was weighing down on Bakugo making it hard to breathe. The phone was buzzing again, but rhythmically this time. The screen was glowing red and it got brighter and brighter until Bakugo had to cover his eyes when it became almost blinding. There was a sudden rush of air from nowhere and the atmosphere changed from suffocating to calm. There was even a scent that reminded Bakguo of a high end cologne.

He opened his eyes and blinked rapidly, trying to clear the afterimage of the bright light from the phone. The room had gone dark again as Bakugo had the lights dimmed for his me time. As his eyes adjusted his heart nearly jumped out of his chest. There was someone standing in the middle of his room.

He nearly fell over in his attempt to scramble away from the large, imposing figure. He groped for something, anything that he could possibly use to defend himself. He ended up ripping the keyboard from its spot next to the monitor, holding it in front of him like it was some sort of shield as he spoke in a shaky voice.

“Who the hell are you? How the fuck did you get in my room?”

The figure didn’t reply. There was what sounded like a snap and the room was suddenly bathed in soft lighting from sources that seemed to appear out of thin air. There were candles that had popped into existence, flickering slightly.

Now that there was adequate light, Bakugo could see that the hulking figure was none other than the guy, Red, that he had hit “summon” on. But he was far different from his photo.

For starters he was jacked as shit, way more muscular than the photo had let on. He was wearing what appeared to be tight leather pants that revealed he was packing some major heat. He had leather boots that stretched nearly up to his knees and he was completely shirtless.

Bakugo noticed there was a tattoo on the guys left shoulder that looked like the Roman Numeral for 5. In looking at the tattoo, Bakugo’s eyes couldn’t help but wander over the bulging bicep it was above, which flexed as the guy crossed his arms.

“You called?”

His voice was dangerously low and gravelly. Bakugo’s eyes darted up to his face. He was handsome for sure, but his features were sharper than Bakguo had expected and there was a scar over one his eyes, which were a deep, dark color that Bakugo couldn’t quite make out in the low lighting.

They seemed to glint a bit as the guy cocked his head and growled, “Come on kid I haven’t got all day. What’ll be?”

Bakugo’s mouth gaped open and he managed to stammer out, “You’re that guy from the app? Red, right?”

Red nodded, but his expression was bored. “Yeah that’s me. But you can call me whatever you want to tonight, sweetheart.”

Bakugo eyes widened and he was about to give an angry retort, but Red was suddenly in front of him. It was too fast for a normal human. He was simply just there, mere inches away from Bakugo, who found himself pinned against the desk. He panicked and shoved the wireless keyboard into Red’s broad chest in an attempt to push him away, but it was entirely useless.

Red’s chuckle sent a chill down Bakugo’s spine and he shimmied the keyboard out of Bakugo’s shaking hands, tossing it to the side.

“Hey!” Bakugo yelled, “That shit’s expensive you ass!”

He could feel the adrenaline pumping in his veins now and it gave him a momentary bout of courage to say, “I clicked on a cute submissive guy, not you, you crazy shithead.”

Red looked confused for a second, but then his face broke into a grin. His casual laugh caught Bakugo off guard and Red said, “Shit. That’s my bad. I forgot to update that photo.”

He was suddenly too close for comfort and Bakugo could feel his hot breath against his face as Red crooned, “I used to play the sweet puppy act, but now I’m more of an alpha.”

He grinned again, this time showing teeth which were unnaturally sharp. Bakugo shivered as Red whispered, “I can be the Big Bad Wolf if you want, babe.”

Bakugo felt the edge of the desk dig into the small of his back as he tried to lean back as Red came closer. He loomed over him and Bakugo felt small and almost vulnerable. This wasn’t what he wanted, and the taunting smirk on Red’s face was making him even more pissed off.

He somehow managed to wriggle his arms up and pound his fists into Red’s chest, which was sold as a rock. It was enough to provide a small sliver of space for Bakugo to shimmy out of Red’s grasp and stand in front of him.

“Go back to wherever the fuck you came from and get the fuck out of my room.”

Red cocked an eyebrow. “Aw you’re kicking me out? But I’m just getting started. We pride ourselves on service at Mistress Midnight’s. So I’m not leaving until you’re satisfied.”

Red was suddenly right next to him again. Bakugo didn’t have time to try and maneuver out of the way as the man’s wide palms were at his hips, holding him in place. That heavy, almost suffocating feeling was in the atmosphere again.

“Let me go!” Bakugo growled, struggling in vain, his fists pounding against Red’s chest.

One of Bakugo’s wrists was grabbed by Red and yanked back so that they were pressed flush against each other. Red’s other hand was now on Bakugo’s ass and Bakugo could feel the heat between their bodies.

The hand on Bakugo’s ass slipped into his boxers. Red’s palm was like fire against Bakguo’s skin and he hissed slightly as he tried to pull out of Red’s vice like grip. The air grew even thicker and Bakugo’s lungs felt like they were about to cave in, but then everything seemed to stop as Red pressed their lips together.

Bakugo wasn’t just a a virgin sexually. He had also never kissed anyone before. The sensation was strange, a tingly feeling that had him focusing on the soft give of Red’s lips instead of the hand kneading his asscheck slightly.

Bakugo inhaled sharply as something wet came to tease at the seam of his lips. Red’s tongue slipped past Bakugo’s lips, snaking it’s way past his teeth and forcing Bakugo’s mouth open. Bakugo panted into Red’s mouth as Red’s tongue caressed every inch of Bakugo’s mouth, until Bakugo’s knees began to shake.

When Red finally pulled back Bakugo was gasping for air. He knew kissing was supposed to be good, but this was on another level. His lips felt swollen and he flinched as Red dragged a thumb along his bottom lip, gathering the bit of spit that coated it. Bakugo watched with wide eyes as Red sucked the saliva off the pad of his thumb with an obscene pop before smacking his lips.

“You virgins always taste so sweet,” Red commented.

Bakugo flushed and he looked down sheepishly at his feet. In doing so he noticed the boner he must have popped at some point during their make out session. Out of habit he tried to cover himself with the hand that wasn’t being held by Red, but it was snatched away so both his wrists were in Red’s grasp.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed. This the whole reason I’m here, remember?”

Red punctuated the statement by grinding his hips into Bakugo’s. Bakugo let out a very unmanly squeal as he felt Red’s own erection press against him. Red made a strange noise, but Bakugo didn’t have time to register it as he was suddenly being slammed into the wall.

His back hit with a solid thud and the air was knocked out of him. He gasped for breath, but then forgot how to breathe entirely as he saw that Red’s eyes were glowing, the pupils thin slits, almost reptilian.

But it wasn’t just Red’s eyes that had changed. His teeth were sharp like a shark’s, glistening in dim room. Black horns topped his forehead, fitting perfectly with the spikes of his red hair. The tips of his ears had elongated slightly, ending in distinct points. The hands that came to cup Bakugo’s ass again ended in sharp points that stung as Red dug his nails in. But that wasn’t even the worst of it.

Red had suddenly sprouted wings. Giant, leathery wings that looked bat-like. They were folded, but flared out slightly as he grinned at Bakugo wickedly. Something caught Bakugo’s attention from the corner of his eye. There was also a tail flipping back and forth behind Red, which ended in a heart shaped spike.

“Y-youre a demon?” Bakugo gasped, shaking even more now.

Red’s wings flattened agains his back. “In broad terms sure. But the correct word is Incubus.”

“Incuwhat?”

“To put it very simply, a sex demon.”

“S-sex demon?”

Bakugo’s whole body was hot. Red’s now inhuman appearance was frightening, but there was something also oddly erotic about it. His eyes seemed to draw you in and despite how dangerous they looked, Bakugo found himself wanting to delve his tongue into Red’s mouth now, tracing the points of those teeth. Said teeth were suddenly nibbling lightly at Bakugo’s neck, down his collarbone which Red laved his tongue over, dipping into the hollow and making Bakugo’s body spasm.

He’d been turned on plenty of times but this was different. It was like his body was craving more each time Red would touch him. He wanted to feel Red’s naked chest against his own, and he found himself clumsily trying to yank his shirt off.

Red chuckled and the garment was discarded along with Bakugo’s boxers, leaving Bakugo entirely exposed. Red’s eyes flicked over Bakugo’s trembling body and it felt like everywhere he looked became hot. Bakugo’s cock was already fully erect and Red’s eyes lingered on it.

He pursed his lips, as though in thought, and then he was kissing Bakugo with such force that Bakguo thought he might suffocate. Red’s mouth was wet and hot, but there was something snaking up his leg, winding round his thigh, dancing lightly over the dip in his pelvis until he felt it coil round his throbbing cock.

It was Red’s tail, wrapping Bakguo from base to tip, making him mewl into Red’s mouth. The pressure around his cock was just enough to make Bakugo want more, it was almost a tease, but then the tip of Red’s tail flicked over the head of Bakugo’s cock.

It was a completely foreign feeling, rough, but warm, and agonizingly stimulating. Red’s tail tightened around Bakugo’s cock and he began to pump him slowly while he teased Bakugo’s slit, which was dripping precum onto the leathery skin.

Red separated their mouths briefly and Bakugo gasped for air. Red’s eyes were hypnotizing and the slow fuck of his tail around Bakugo’s cock had him close to orgasm. But then the sensation was suddenly gone and Bakugo made a disappointed noise.

Red chuckled, “Don’t worry. We’re only getting started.”

Bakguo was swept up effortlessly by Red’s strong arms and deposited on his bed, still very much naked, and still very much aroused. Red stood over the bed, looking like a predator deciding how to devour its prey. His wings flexed slightly.

“You know what, I’m feeling generous tonight, so I’ll give you some special service. But first I wanna see you on your hands and knees.”

Bakugo’s brow furrowed. “My what?”

Red’s eyes began to glow brighter. “I said get on all fours.”

It was an order and Bakugo scrambled to position himself on the bed. He looked up at Red, who tutted at him before bending down so their faces were level. Bakugo’s eyelids were heavy and he opened his mouth eagerly for Red as they shared a languid kiss.

But then another order came. “Turn around.”

Bakugo hesitantly maneuvered so his backside was toward Red. He couldn’t help the blush that spread over his cheeks and all the way down to his chest. He could hear Red make a noise of approval and then Bakugo’s head was being shoved down into the sheets so his ass was in the air.

“Now be a good boy and stay still.”

Bakugo flinched as Red cupped his ass. The claws on his fingers dug into the skin ever so slightly and Bakugo tried to move away but was stopped with a hard slap to his left cheek followed by a growl from Red.

“I said don’t move.”

Bakugo’s heartbeat was pounding in his ears. The sting from where Red had slapped him was turning him on even more. He wanted to feel more so he purposefully pushed himself up from the bed.

Red’s claws dug into his scalp almost instantly, forcing his head back down as the satisfying sound of Red’s palm hitting the creamy skin of Bakugo’s ass echoed through the room. Bakguo moaned slightly and the grip on his hair vanished.

He could feel Red’s hands cup the angry red marks he’d left on Bakugo’s ass. Near perfect handprints. But Red was far from done as he spread Bakugo open. It was what Bakugo had wanted to do to the cute boy in a collar. But instead he was being worked open by a demon whose hot breath beat against his quivering hole.

Bakugo buried his face deeper in the the sheets, balling them up with his fists as he felt something wet flick at his entrance. Red’s hands tightened on Bakugo’s cheeks and then Bakugo cried out as Red’s tongue pressed into him ever so slightly.

Bakugo had tried anal play once, just to see if it was anything he was interested in. He’d managed to get two fingers in, but could never find the sweet spot he’d heard about, which was part of the reason he wanted to top.

But now, as Red’s tongue circled rings of muscles, any remaining wishes to top were long gone. In fact he found himself trying to lean in closer to Red, who was fucking him slowly with a tongue that was far to long for any human being.

It was reaching places Bakugo didn’t even know he had. Red curled his tongue slightly and Backugo let out a muffled scream of pleasure. He had the sheets between his teeth now, biting down in an attempt to keep quiet as this was a dorm.

But Red seemed to have other ideas. His tongue was pulled out, making Bakugo’s body shake. He felt the bed dip and then Red was draped over him, his chest pressed flush against Bakugo’s sweaty back. Somehow Red’s pant’s were gone and Bakugo could feel something firm and hot slide between his cheeks for a moment.

Red yanked the sheet out of Bakugo’s mouth and replaced it with two of his fingers, hooking them into Bakugo’s bottom jaw. He couldn’t feel the points of Red’s claws, but sharp teeth came to nibble on his ear as Red whispered.

“I want to hear you beg for me to fuck you.”

Bakugo’s last bit of sanity snapped as he felt the tip of Red’s tail suddenly slip inside of his quivering hole. The fingers in his mouth were making him drool onto the sheets. The flared tip of Red’s tail had slid in surprisingly easily and Bakugo clenched around it.

He let out a noise he didn’t know he was capable of making as the tip of Red’s tail brushed against an area that had Bakugo seeing stars. He heard a growl of approval, and the fingers in his mouth were taken out.

“Tell me what you want,” Red asked, his voice a low rumble.

Bakugo’s voice shook as he found himself saying, “I want you to fuck me.”

Red smiled devilishly. “Good boy. Now scream for me.”

The tip of the tail pressed right against Bakugo’s prostate and Bakugo let out a high pitched whine. It didn’t seem to satisfy Red though and his tail was slipped out quickly, leaving Bakugo’s hole clenching at air. But then the solid head of Red’s cock was there.

Red pushed in ever so slightly and Bakugo whined.

“You want more?”

Bakugo could only nod, his head bobbing up and down erratically as he panted into the sheets. Red’s tail wrapped around Bakugo’s right leg, almost holding him there as he positioned himself at Bakugo’s entrance.

In one thrust he entered him all the way and Bakugo did indeed scream. It felt like he was being ripped apart. Red’s cock was huge, filling him up in a way he never knew he wanted. He cried out again as Red pulled out before slamming back in.

Bakugo cummed as Red’s cock hit his prostate. He could feel himself clench around Red and it was almost too much as Red pulled out again and started fucking him hard and fast. Bakugo’s muscles relaxed slightly after his orgasm and somehow Red slid even deeper into him.

A low growl rumbled from behind Bakugo’s head and he felt wet strands of saliva dripping onto his back. He somehow managed to glance up at Red and the sight pushed him forward into a second orgasm.

The incubus looked like an animal in heat. He was salivating, panting heavily as he fucked into Bakugo. His wings had spread out so they filled the cavity between the bed and the ceiling. They trembled with what Bakugo hoped was Red’s own pleasure. Red’s tail tightened around Bakgugo’s leg and then Red came.

As he did he dug his claws into Bakugo’s hips, but Bakugo didn’t register the pain. He was entirely fixated on the feel of Red’s hot cum filling him up. It was like nothing he’d ever felt before and it was amazing. Red was still thrusting and Bakugo didn’t expect to feel even more spurts of cum shoot inside him. It was like Red was trying to pump him full.

With a loud moan Red’s forehead fell to rest on Bakugo’s shoulder. Bakugo could feel breath beat against his skin, cooling the saliva sticking to it. When Red finally pulled out Bakugo felt slick sliding out of him. He shuddered and tried to look up at Red again, but he couldn’t.

He was feeling strange all of a sudden. Like his body was being dragged down into the bed, his limbs becoming heavy. It was becoming hard to focus and a soft buzzing was starting to fill his head.

He was lifted like a rag doll and plopped back onto the bed. Red’s wet tongue swept up his abdomen and Bakugo shivered. He groaned as he felt Red’s mouth at his cock for a moment, licking up the cum that had dribbled down. He felt a strange sensation at the jut of his hip. It burned slightly but then it was over and exhaustion and post coitus bliss washed over him, drowning him into a deep sleep.

He faintly heard Red say something to him, but he was out before he could understand what it was.

When he awoke the next morning he was tucked into bed. His phone was on the nightstand, sheets neat and clean as though last night had never happened. Bakugo wondered if that was the case. It could have been one hell of a dream, and probably had to be.

An incubus fucking him senseless? That was the stuff of fiction. Bakugo sighed. He didn’t deny the fact that part of him wished it had been real. He could almost feel the burn from Red’s hands on his ass. As he shifted slightly, he did feel something with his ass however. It was a numb feeling and he sprung up, regretting doing so as his back throbbed painfully.

He tore the sheets off and waddled over to the mirror hanging on the closet door. Sure enough, as he yanked his boxers down there were distinctly shaped red marks on each cheek. It made Bakguo’s heart flutter for some reason, but then he noticed something else.

There was another mark on his hip. It was writing. He craned his neck down to make it out. It looked like it had been written with a sharp object and was more of a scar than anything. Bakugo’s eyebrows raised at the words.

Property of Eijiro

Eijiro? Bakugo didn’t know an Eijiro. He was thoroughly confused but then the moment before he passed out came rushing back. Red had carved this into him. He’d also whispered to him words which made Bakugo shiver remembering them.

“Next time I want my name on your lips as you cum. You’re mine now.”

#kiribaku #bakushima #kiribaku fanfic #incubus #incubus!au #incubus Kirishima #dom kirishima #sub bakugo #fanfiction

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amatchinwater · 3 years ago

Text

Did a little thing for Day 2 of Stackson Week 2021!

Day 2: Trapped together

Pairing: Stackson

Warnings: underage drinking

Word count: 2709

Rating: teen and up

Ao3 link

Stiles knew it was a bad idea to have a party at Lydia’s lake house in the middle of hurricane lever rain and a goddamn flood warning. What’s even worse is he’s the first person to show up! Lydia herself isn’t even here yet. The banshee was kind enough to tell him where they put the hide-a-key so he could get in and out of the storm. Scott and Isaac aren’t picking up or answering his texts. If they’re not here because they’re too busy fucking and Stiles has to be here soaked and alone, he’s going to kill them.

When Stiles gets in the house, he stomps his shoes on the mat to not track in any mud. Lyds would castrate him for that, so he takes them off just to be safe. Slipping out of his jacket, Stiles hangs it on the hook, careful not to let it drip anywhere other than the little rug underneath it. The house is empty and eerily dark. Then again, why wouldn’t it be? He’s the only fucking one here. Making his way into the kitchen, Stiles’ preturbrance only grows.

It doesn’t even look like the place is meant to house a party in the next twenty minutes. Nothing is set up. There isn't a single bag of chips or other snacks on the counter. No pizzas and sandwich platters like her birthday. A keg is not beside the island either. Just two bottles of wine with a sticky note that reads-

“Have fun?”

Oh my god! Stiles jumps and flails, nearly knocking the bottles over on the counter.

“What kind of fucking game is she playing?” Jackson snatches the note, rereading it before flicking it back towards the island.

Still clutching his wildly beating heart, Stiles gasps, “could you maybe announce yourself next time?” He collects himself- mostly. “Not all of us have your little wolf senses. You almost gave me a heart attack, you fuck.”

Jackson snorts and almost playfully bumps him with his shoulder. “Not my fault you left the front door unlocked, Stilinski.”

Fuck this. “I’m leaving.” Stiles stalks back towards the front door, yanking his jacket off the hook and grabbing his shoes. Whipping the open the door, the teen groans loudly, dropping his head back, “you’ve got to be kidding me!”

“What are you bitching about now?” The wolf steps beside him and looks outside, his eyes widen drastically. “Holy shit!”

The lake has officially overflown since they’ve shown up and the driveway is at least three inches deep with water. Jackson’s care looks like it’s barely capable of surviving if it gets too high. Stiles almost cares enough to wonder if they should move it. This fucking storm! Now he’s stuck here with nowhere to go. Yes, he has a jeep, but the road out is no doubt a muddy mess that even Roscoe can’t navigate.

Closing the door and putting his clothes back where they were, Stiles whines, “why would she pick today to do this?” Thinking about the weather his dad forced him to watch this morning. Most cities were calling in downed power lines and massive branches flying through the streets.

She knew this storm was coming. So much so that Lydia even reminded him to wear his boots rather than his sneakers. “I guess I better call Scott, tell him not to come. No use in him getting stuck in the woods like this.” Sures, having his best friend here would make this exceptionally better. But Stiles doesn’t want to break up any fights between a stir crazy Jackson and Isaac. Fishing in his pocket, Stiles pulls out his phone and smashes the call button in annoyance.

“Stiles, hey. I’m sorry I did-” Scott answers on the second ring only to be cut off by Stiles.

“I don’t care if you and Isaac were fucking,” Jackson chuckles at his jab. “Don’t come to Lydia’s. The lake flooded and now Jackson and I can’t leave.”

“Okay,” Scott draws out the word and if Stiles wasn’t mistaken sounds a little confused. Jackson’s brows knit together at the response too. Okay, so it did sound weird then. “I’m sorry you’re stuck there, dude. But maybe this will be a good thing?”

Is he serious? “How the fuck is it supposed to be a good thing to be stuck in a goddamn house with someone who hates my guts?” Stiles’ hand slaps his thigh in exasperation. Not to mention the asshole in question was hotter than hell fire and makes it incredibly hard to be in the same room with him. Not thinking about that when Jackson can smell his chemosignals.

“Well,” Scott drawls, “you did say you had a crush on him.” Stiles blanches and goes stalk still, forgetting how to fucking breathe. Jackson snorts beside him. Stiles is going to kill Scott. “Oh my god! He’s right next to you, isn’t he?”

“I hate you so much right now.” Stiles makes a point to stare at the floor and not at the shuffling wolf beside him. “Well, thanks for getting me killed. Great best friend job, truly. See ya probably never, Scotty.” He promptly hangs up before Scott can answer.

“So,” Jackson purrs and Stiles can’t help but turn and face the wolf. His arms are crossed from where he leans against the wall, one foot propped behind him. Jackson’s face holds that stupid, sexy, douchbag smirk, “you like me?”

He’s not even going to entertain that. Stiles squints at him with his mouth slightly parted. It only makes Jackson chuckle. “I need a drink,” Stiles uses every ounce of self control not to literally run away and back into the kitchen. Sifting through the drawers until he finds the corkscrew, Stiles grabs a bottle. Once the cork is out- that actually had already been opened- Stiles could give fuck all about a glass. He takes a sip directly from the bottle, regretting it at the extensive bitter taste of wolfsbane.

Clearly that one’s for Jackson. He’s courteous enough to slide the wine across the island when Jackson is back in the room. The wolf stares at him as his lips wrap around the mouthpiece and drinks from it, not giving a damn to wipe it after Stiles’ drank first. The other boy just watches before his brain recovers and he opens his own bottle. Setting the cork and opener aside, Stiles grabs the wine and leaves the wolf in the kitchen to go sit in the living room where Lydia keeps the playstation.

Plopping on the couch, Stiles lets himself sink into the cushion and takes several swigs. Actually rather enjoying the slight burn and the warmth that quickly settles in his belly. He can very easily just sit here and watch tv like Jackson doesn’t even exist. Stiles can go to literally anywhere else to be away from the wolf if need be. He cannot believe that Jackson found out he likes him.

Fucking Scott.

It takes a few minutes for Jackson to join him. Stiles already has Supernatural playing and has killed a good third of his wine before the wolf is sitting next to him. Like right next to him. One nervous leg bounce and their thighs or knees will touch. Seriously? Lydia has two couches, a chaise lounge, and two armchairs in her living room. So why is he so close?

Scratch that initial thought. There’s like six other rooms in this big ass house that Jackson could’ve gone to. Why here? Stiles drinks more.

Jackson takes another small sip, looking like he’s barely drank anything from his own bottle before saying, “I have a secret to tell you.”

He fights the eyeroll only just, “what information could you possibly have that I would care about?” Amber eyes stay glued to the flat screen.

“I don’t hate you, Stiles.”

“Oh?” He asks with mock interest. Even though there’s something tickling at his heart that Jackson didn’t call him ‘idiot’ or ‘Stilinski’. He can’t allow himself to fall for the wolf’s tricks. He won’t let the rug get yanked out from under him.

“Quite the opposite actually.”

Stiles snorts and turns to make some smart ass retort. But his ‘yeah right’ gets stuck on his tongue finding Jackson’s face mere inches from his own. He gulps. Clearing his throat, Stiles takes a big sip before putting his bottle on the small table beside him. Too fuzzy and warm to process this, Stiles scooches until he’s pressing against the armrest.

Jackson also places his bottle on the coffee table before sliding closer. Forcing Stiles to half turn into the couch while the wolf puts an arm on either side of him, completely encasing Stiles. “I like you,” he presses further, “a lot.” Jackson leans in until their noses brush, “tell me if you want me to stop.”

Blame the wine. Blame his hormones for not wanting him to stop. Hell, blame everyone and everything, Stiles included. But he does have a massive crush on Jackson. Even though he knows damn well that he shouldn’t. The guy’s a prick. He has no problem letting people know that he’s better than them. Making damn sure to flaunt his money too. As if that makes him hotter or something. It doesn’t.

No, it’s the icy blue eyes that make Stiles want to learn their secrets and harvest the knowledge. The wolf’s stupid jaw that’s perfect and Stiles just wants to bite it. He;s seen Jackson naked numerous times- thank you locker room shower’s forgotten concept of privacy. But god damn, when Jackson smiles- not his asshole smirk, but genuine smile- Stiles’ lungs and knees forget how to function. Despite his actions earlier, the teen is actually pretty happy to be stuck here.

Only acting as though he hates Jackson because he was simply following the wolf’s lead. His eyes flick to Jackson’s bottle of wine- its contents too hard to see in the dark green glass from this distance- and back to hooded baby blues. There’s only two reasons Stiles can believe that this is actually happening right now.

Jackson’s drunk. Because Stiles doesn’t understand the extent in which wolfsbane affects werewolf's tolerance. Which would mean the ex-kanima has no idea what he’s doing and should go sleep it off. Stiles hopes it’s this because the latter is just too painful.

Jackson’s fucking with him. Surely he doesn’t have actual feelings for Stiles. Maybe the wolf found out he’s bi and wanted to tease him about it. Although, something tells him that Danny would murder Jackson if he ever found out. Still. This is Stiles. Lowest on the lacrosse totem pole and not the wolf’s best friend. Is Jackson that cruel though?

Beautiful, parted pink lips get closer, so Stiles whispers, “you’re just drunk,” and turns his head away, hoping that’s the case here. Waiting for the joke to play out.

“I’m really not.” Jackson reaches over to grab his drink. There’s maybe three sips missing when he dangles the bottle for proof. “See?” The wolf puts it back, returning with a smirk and a cocked brow, “now will you let me kiss you?” Jackson chuckles, it’s a breathy sound, but doesn’t make to move closer. Leaving it to Stiles.

He’s not falling for that trap. The prove-to-me-you-want-it-so-I-can-kick-you-down trap by making Stiles lean in. “So you’re fucking with me then?” He should’ve known better.

The other boy looks confused and a little offended. Jackson leans back farther, still sitting close, but no longer in Stiles’ personal space. He actually wants him to come back, but how could he ever tell the wolf that when this is just a game? “Why would I fuck with you about this?” Jackson’s voice is soft and full of so much emotion that Stiles almost believes him.

“Uh, because that’s what you do?” Stiles gestures wildly like it should have been obvious. “You’ve made it perfectly clear that we’re not even friends. You were literally my bully when we were kids. I don’t- and i-it only got worse when I developed a crush on Lydia. Which I get, she was your girlfr-”

“What’s not why I was a dick.” The wolf cuts him off with a shake of his head. Stiles squints an eye at him, mouth still hanging open from the word that didn’t finish. “I was jealous.”

“Why the fuck would you be jealous of me?” Stiles scoffs and Jackson ducks his head with a chuckle. “Lydia never even looked at me while you were together.”

Jackson flashes a bemused grin when he looks back, “I was jealous of Lydia, you idiot.” The name usually bitten out comes with a tone that suggests it’s meant to be a term of endearment.

“Oh, I’m so sorry that I wasn’t fawning over you like your little fan club, okay? My bad. You’re right, you’re incredibly hot and I should’ve stroked your ego by putting you some fucking pedestal-” Jackson swallows whatever other words and the surprised squeak from Stiles’ lips. He stares bug eyed at the wolf’s closed eyes. Jackson presses closer, his hand cupping the other boy’s cheeks while his tongue slides against Stiles’ bottom lip. Entrance isn’t given, he can’t really, Stiles is too shocked to do so.

The wolf pulls away, still holding Stiles’ face, “I didn’t care that you thought she was attractive.” Jackson drops a hand and lifts his hips, pulling one of Stiles’ legs until the human gets the massage and- for some fucking reason- lays on the couch. The wolf’s hips immediately settle into the space created and Stiles can feel just how much Jackson wants this. Him. “I wanted to be the one you had a crush on because of the massive one I have on you.”

That’s a lot to process. If Jackson liked him then- “why did you make my life hell?”

Jackson’s free hand falls to Stiles’ hip, rubbing softly and the other props himself on the armrest behind Stiles’ head. “I didn’t know how to handle the fact that I suddenly like guys. Well, a guy.” The wolf sighs, “Lydia knew and agreed to keep my secret as long as I needed her to. I’m sorry I treated you like that.”

Stiles has never seen him act so soft. Having Derek as an Alpha and a proper back must really be working for Jackson. It makes him charming in a way that his jerk persona never could. Being emotionally balanced and all that.

“I’m going to ask you one more time. And I’ll know if you’re lying. So don’t do me any favors and don’t hide from me either.” The warning is evident. Don’t say it and not mean it. And don’t mean it but not day it. Otherwise he’ll walk. “Will you please, let me fucking kiss you?”

Stiles fists his fingers in the wolf’s shirt- half expecting Jackson to snap at wrinkling his expensive clothes- to push him away or pull him closer, the other boy really doesn’t know. Until his arm moves of its own volition and Jackson’s mouth gets drawn to him.

The wolf chuckles against his lips, “finally.” The hand on his hip grips tighter and the other comes back to his jaw. Jackson tilts his head up to deepen the kiss. Jackson kisses like he wants to swallow Stiles whole. Maybe he does. Maybe Stiles would let him. Panting he pulls away again, and the other teen bites back a whine. “I have one more question and then I promise I’ll shut up.”

The human playfully rolls his eyes, “what is it?”

“Be with me.” Jackson states. Stiles cocks his head to the side with a chuckle, that wasn’t really a question. But his heart skips a beat nonetheless at the implication of the wolf’s words. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

Stiles is nodding before the request is completely out of Jackson’s beautiful face. “Fuck yeah, dude.” The wolf breathes out a laugh at the ridiculousness. “Now just kiss me. Please?”

“Whatever you want,” Jackson grins and presses his body in further, claiming Stiles’ lips as his own.

Stiles is now stupidly happy about this storm locking them in Lydia’s lake house. He got a boyfriend out if.

#stackson #stiles stilinski #jackson whittemore #stiles x jackson #teen wolf #ao3 fic #stacksonweek2021

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littlegiantposts · 4 years ago

Text

movie night

pairing: todoroki x f!reader

warning: strong language probably. possible anime/manga spoilers! grammar mistakes :( I suck at writing

summary: It’s not that Y/n didn’t want friends, it’s just people always found her intimidating

a/n: this is completely self-indulgent lol sorry about that, so like yeah I’m gonna be saying y/n, but also i am deriving her personality, attitude, looks from a character that I’ve sort of made up in my head haha. also idk if this is like a headcanon, imagine, or like a scenaro....so sorry. And like, sort of a side note, I love making main characters that are like sorta op so y/n’s quirk and story is sorta insane, but you guys dont really have to worry about it too much because its not really in this so....yeah, i guess its just some context. I wrote this while listening to a playlist I made, titled, “ur a badass hero with class 1-a” on spotify so if ppl wanna hear it, I will post a link to it lol. OH and class 1-a are in their second year! That’s a lot, sorry! But, I hope you enjoy!

y/n’s quirk (if ur curious): controlling the 4 elements (aang from the last airbender vibe lmao); but she also got a companion named koda (think of Moro-no-kimi from Princess Mononoke for the look)

Y/n was never good at making friends. It’s not like she didn’t try, because she did. When she was a little kid, living on Catalina Island, she made a lot of attempts to make friends with fellow children in her pre-school and middle school. It just seemed that they wanted nothing to do with her, talking bad about her behind her back or acting as if she just didn’t exist.

It started to get exhausting for Y/n to keep trying and ending up always failing. So, when enrolling in the top hero school, UA, Y/n thought that maybe, just maybe, things would be different.

Nonetheless, it’s not like she had absolutely no one. She had Koda! Her best friend in the whole wide world, well her only friend, which was her pet wolf. However, Koda doesn’t like being called a “pet”, let’s stick with her companion. They are quite the inseparable duo.

Y/n looked down at Koda from her desk who was lulling herself to sleep on the floor as Present Mic was teaching an English lesson. Y/n wished she too can sleep at this moment, “It wouldn’t hurt if I just closed my eyes for just a couple minutes.” Y/n thought. Oh, she was wrong though.

“Alright! We are going take a short break since we need to get our new textbooks,” Present Mic’s voice rang through her ears with all his elongation and passion, “Y/n and Todoroki! What about you two go get the books from the library!” Y/n would have jolted at the mention of her face, but she was honestly too tired to do so.

She nodded her head, got up from her desk, and looked at Koda if he was going to follow her. Of course, he perked up at the mention of her name and was going with her. A small smile was now on Y/n’s lips. Y/n was glad that she knew she can depend on Koda, always in her corner.

As she pushed her chair away from her desk, getting up and walking towards the door, she didn’t realize that most of the class was either looking at her or the half and half boy, for he had to endure the trip with the enigma that is Y/n.

The class just doesn’t know Y/n that well. She was one of the new students this year, along with Shinso. However, they at least knew of Shinso from last year. Y/n was a brand-spanking new addition to the class. Not to mention, her introduction to the class was nothing short of intimidating.

Aizawa knew Y/n had a lot of strengths. In fact, he used her skills as a type of learning lesson for the class. Not to mention, he completely singled her out during the “lesson” as he instructed the class that Y/n will have a bell that is tied around her belt. All they had to do was get the bell. Y/n, being the competitive person she was, didn’t back down at this challenge. Safe to say, no one was able to get the bell that day.

Y/n sighed at the memory. “Maybe, if you had some chill, you would be able to get a friend, Y/n” a voice in her head said, causing Y/n’s shoulders to shrink and her hands to be stuffed into her pockets. (Yes, she has pockets with her uniform. Yes, she’s still wearing the school uniform skirt. She sowed pockets into them for this very habit.)

“Uh, hey wait up.” a deeper voice called, already identifying who it is.

Y/n turned to right, looking at Koda for a brief second. From far away, one would think he was just grimacing, but as Y/n was closer, she can see he was very close to full-on growling at the sound of his voice.

Koda doesn’t really like Todoroki and Y/n always found it funny. Koda found everyone else real entertaining. As much as Koda was a wolf, he really was a people’s person. If Y/n didn’t know any better, it seemed Koda had a better relationship with her classmates than she actually did.

Y/n adopted a tired smile as she reacted to Koda’s growling at Shoto. She then looked behind her, seeing Todoroki jog lightly towards her. Her small smile soon faded away.

“Even if you try again to be a friend, you know that people will always end up fearing you.” Y/n honestly wanted to bang her head against a wall because this annoying voice was truly the bane of her existence.

Y/n stopped in her tracks. Koda made eye-contact with her, almost telepathically asking her, “Why are you stopping for him?!”.

“I may be aloof, but I have to at least be polite.” Y/n told her wolf companion. Koda only let out a breathe of frustration as he also stopped as well.

Todoroki soon caught up to the duo and was on Y/n’s left side. And the three began their trek to the school library.

There was some silence.

For Todoroki, it was so awkward. “Why don’t you say something to her?” he asks himself, “Or are you going to let another opportunity slip?”

You see, Shoto Todoroki admired Y/n. She was incredibly skilled with her quirk. She was confident, but not arrogant. She was an innovator, while still accepting old principles. She was naturally smart, but always open to learning. To him, she was so balanced. He couldn’t help himself as the admiration started to soon feel like a crush on the dark haired girl.

For Y/n, she didn’t think anything of the silence. In fact, she was grateful for the silence. More silence, means less time for talking. Less chance of Y/n making a fool out of herself.

“You seem more tired than usual. Trained a lot yesterday, I presume?” And Todoroki broke the silence that Y/n was trying to insist.

“Yeah, trying out a new technique with my water.”

Y/n was surprised.

She really could have been more blunt with her answer.

Theoretically, all she really had to respond with was a “yeah”, but she decided to add that last part.

Why? Why did she feel inclined to go into more detail? Now, Y/n was confused.

“That’s cool.” Todoroki wanted to hit himself in the head. “That’s all you got to say? What a conversation this is” Shoto mentally sighs. He feels like his heart is going to burst at how fast its going.

“I’m actually trying to freeze it, but that turns out to be harder than expected,” Y/n almost slapped her hand on her mouth.

Why is she going into more detail? This doesn’t make sense. She’s been quite blunt lately when people try to talk to her, so what gives?

Is it Todoroki, himself? “Maybe he put a spell on me or something.” Y/n didn’t think the “icy-hot bastard” would dabble in witchcraft, but things were just not adding up in Y/n’s mind. All these thoughts woke Y/n right up, ridding herself of her tiredness.

As for Todoroki, his mind was going into overdrive. “She’s having trouble with freezing water? She must know that this is my specialty. Is this her way of spending time with me? Does this mean the feelings I have for her are mutual? Perhaps, we can train together and I can help her with freezing.” The mere thought of spending time with Y/n outside of class made his cheeks warm up.

He was an absolute love-struck fool for Y/n.

“Oh, we’re here.” Y/n stated the obvious as they stand in front of the school’s library, halting Shoto’s mental mumbling, which almost resembled one of Midoryia’s ever-present babbling.

Shoto Todoroki immediately shot his arm forward to open the door for Y/n, but Y/n was thinking the same thing and they reached for the same handle.

Their hands touch.

And Todoroki thinks he can die happy now. Y/n’s hand is so soft. Much to his dismay, Y/n immediately drew her hand back as if his hand was scalding hot water.

Y/n mumbled a quick “sorry” and places her hand on the other handle as there are two doors to the library, she opens it and immediately walks through it as Koda follows in tow. Koda dawns an absolute confused look as he didn’t know what the hell that interaction was about.

The actual task of getting the books aren’t that hard. In fact, it was an easy and quick task.

So, why is this causing Y/n’s mind and heart feeling like they are overheating.

As they walk back to the classroom with stacks of textbooks, Y/n thought, “Okay, there’s no way in hell that he will try to talk to me again, especially after that awkward incident. Now, let’s breakdown why the actual hell you acted that way, Y/n.” She mentally scolded herself like she was a child.

Todoroki, as always, had a different plan and decided to continue the conversation, “You know, if you need help with freezing water, I can always help you since that is part of my quirk.”

Y/n has officially short-circuited.

He is voluntarily asking? Voluntarily. Asking?

Asking if Y/n wanted to train together?

This has never happened before, and she doesn’t know how to respond. “I would like that. I typically train in the morning and sometimes after school” is what Y/n felt like saying. It is as if her mind and mouth were working against each other.

However, Y/n’s thoughts were cut short as she heard the chatter of some of her fellow classmates. They three of them were very close to their classroom as their door to the room was wide open.

“Hey guys, if we’re having a movie night tonight, do you think we should invite Y/n?”

It was Midoryia who asked the question. Y/n, Shoto, and Koda stopped dead in their tracks at the mention of her name. Shoto and Koda looked at Y/n with a worried expression. For her own good, she probably shouldn’t be listening, but she couldn’t help but be curious of her classmates’ plan in regards to her.

“It’s not that we don’t want her there. It’s just that, who is up for asking her?”

Silence. No one responded to the question.

Koda notices how Y/n’s grip on the textbooks tightened. Shoto noticed how your head was now titled downward, hiding your face.

“She’s just so intimidating. And not to mention that training exercise we did when we first met her. She’s sort of scary, to be honest.”

“Scary. You’re scary, Y/n. Terrifying.” She couldn’t help but repeat her classmates’ thought of her. She was just torturing herself at this point. No point in dwelling on first impressions, but as this is affecting her current relationship, or lack thereof, with her classmates, she couldn’t help it.

“Y/n-” Todoroki tries to interject before Y/n gets the wrong idea.

But, it’s too late.

“No, it’s fine. Thanks for the offer though, Todoroki.” Y/n’s words were slow. As much as her brain was going a million miles per hour, her mouth was evidently slower as her breathing was heavier.

She wanted to disappear, or at least get swallowed by the ground. She kept her head down as she strode into the classroom. Her classmates being oblivious to Y/n’s knowledge of what they truly think of her, paying no attention to her.

Shoto was basically frozen in place, next to the door, but he gained composure and walked in the class as well, a couple seconds after. Y/n quickly placed her books on the front desk where Present Mic sat behind of, she sat back in her seat that was in the back of the class.

Y/n watched how Shoto was still standing in front of the classroom as he was stopped by his classmates. Now, they were just chatting, probably talking about the upcoming movie night.

Y/n felt jealousy bubble up inside her. She wished she can chat like how Shoto was effortlessly talking away to his classmates. Or how Midoryia stopped him with such ease to talk about a social event.

Y/n yearned for some friendly interaction. That’s what she wanted when coming to UA.

She wanted to be normal. As normal as she could be. A normal teenager.

“Things don’t always go according to plan, huh?” Y/n pouted and placed her head on her desk and just waited patiently till the school day was over.

Koda worriedly looked at Y/n. “She’s going to want to train after this. And I bet she’s going to push herself harder because of today.” Koda knew Y/n very well. Knew her like the back of his hand, well, paw.

And, Koda was right. Y/n was in gym gamma, completely exhausted. Sweat covered her body as her muscles were screaming at her take a break. Her labored breathe continued as her body was trying its best to keep up.

Y/n was frustrated. “Why? Why am I like this?” she kept repeating like a mantra.

“I want to be normal. Why can’t I be like them?”

“Why?”

“You’re a monster. It’s actually quite simple.”

Y/n threw a punch with her fist encased in water, and it wasn’t until after that punch was thrown, she realized that there was now an evident hole in the thick, solid concrete wall.

Y/n fell to her knees. Koda hurriedly made his way to her, making sure she didn’t do anything too stupid. Once Koda was close, she was doing something unexpected.

She was crying.

Hot streams, cascading down her face. She started to hiccup, her breathing erratic. “A-am I scary to you, Koda?” her voice was so small.

Koda nudged his way in between her legs and nestled his head into her neck. Y/n, full on sobbing now, wraps her arms around Koda and her cries are muffled by his fur. Wailing and self-deprecating questions can be faintly heard from her if anyone were to enter the gym.

A couple minutes passed. Y/n’a breathing returned to a calm rhythm.

“Thanks, Koda. I needed that,” Y/n sniffles, “C’mon let’s go make dinner, I’ll whip you up something special for putting up with me today.” Koda’s tail immediately began to wag at the thought of Y/n’s cooking.

Y/n was an independent person. She likes doing things on her own as much as can. She doesn’t eat the food from the school cafeteria, instead, she opts for making her and Koda’s meals from the kitchen that is provided to them in their dormitory. And indeed, she made a delicious dinner for both of them.

Now, the hard part. Because of how long her training took, showering, and making dinner, Y/n knew that her classmates were in the common space already, probably preparing to have their movie night. And, she had to pass them. It was a short distance, short walk, Y/n was trying to reassure herself. Just walk straight towards to the elevator and you’re safe.

Y/n takes a deep breathe and walks out of the kitchen. The chatter of her classmates emerges to her ears, but as she walks towards the elevator, the chatter dies down.

“Oh no.” Y/n’s eyes widened in fear. “Way to go on ruining the mood, Y/n.”

Thankfully, the elevator was quick and the doors slide open, making an easy escape for Y/n and Koda. She let out a breathe she didn’t even realize she was holding in as the doors slid shut. Y/n looks at Koda, who was already looking at her, “It’s better this way, anyway” Y/n didn’t know if she was telling Koda that, or herself.

On the other side of the elevator’s doors, her classmates collectively let out a sigh, “Well that was another chance we wasted.” Kaminari was the first to break the awkward silence.

“Tch. Like any of you have the guts to actually ask her.” Bakugo chimed in.

“Oh please, Bakugo, I know she intimidates you, too.” Mina fired back.

“Whatever.”

“She heard you guys.” Todoroki suddenly talked. Everyone casted their attention to him, “Earlier today, I mean. She heard you guys when you were talking about inviting her to movie night.”

The once light-hearted atmosphere in the room was now tilted with guilt.

“She heard all that?” Midoryia incredulously asked, only imagining what you would be feeling because of their words.

“She must feel terrible.” Ochaco openly voiced her thoughts.

“She probably hates us.” Kirishima adds in.

“She means well, I promise. I think we just need to give her a chance.” Todoroki tries to reason with his classmates.

“First, we need to apologize.” Midoryia proposes as he looks among his classmates. His classmates collectively nod their heads in agreement

“You’re right. Well, good luck Midoryia.” Kaminari pats his back as encouragement. Everyone else either gives an encouraging smile or a thumbs up.

“Ha?! What?! You guys already decided that I’m going to be the one to apologize?” Izuku was flailing his arm around and was checking everyone else’s reaction.

“Well, yes. It’s your idea and you are one of the most apologetic people here.” Iida explained to an overthinking Midoryia.

After regaining composure, he realized that this was probably the best option, “Okay, I’ll, I’ll go now.”

Midoryia makes his way to Y/n’s dorm room. He was nervous. He only had very limited interactions with Y/n. So, he really didn’t know what to expect. Before he knew it, he was before your door.

On the other side, Y/n was chowing down on her food. She took a swig of her water, “So, how’s the food? I tried a new technique on roasting the veggies.” Y/n babbled on for a bit, but she realized that Koda’s plate was hardly touched. Her gaze landed on Koda who was sitting on her bed with a very obvious frown, staring at the door. Y/n immediately knew why.

“Hey, if you wanna go hangout with them, I can push the buttons on the elevator for you-”

Koda was irritated at how difficult Y/n was being, she can just ask them if she can join. It was simple. Koda used his mouth to latch on to Y/n’s sleeve and started to drag her to her dorm’s door.

“H-hey Koda! Not cool, man! You know, I can’t go down there.” Y/n tugs her sleeve away from Koda.

Koda turned to his last resort. He did his signature pout.

“Oh, please. You know that stopped working on me awhile ago. Besides, we can have our own movie night, right?” Y/n tried to reason, but her reasoning just felt sad.

Before Y/n could step away from her dorm’s door, she heard a knock. The two quickly tuned their heads at the door as if something miraculous just happened.

Y/n took one step toward the door.

“It’s Midoryia.” Koda began to wag his tail, “don’t get your hopes up too quickly.”

Y/n opened the door only a slit for her head to poke out, “Oh, hi Midoryia. Is something wrong?” she asks.

“U-um, no nothings wrong.” he responds as nerves start to take over and he doesn’t continue on.

“Okay.” With that, Y/n closed her door. Koda wanted to scratch his eyes out. This was her chance! For someone who was the top student in her class, she was so stupid. “He didn’t want anything. Sorry to disappoint, Koda-” another knock interrupted her.

She looked at the door, “It’s still Midoryia.” Koda rolled his eyes.

Y/n went to to open the door, again, only opening a bit, “Yes, Midoryia? You sure something isn’t wrong?”

“Uh, well I was wondering if we can talk for a bit.”

“Oh, yeah sure.” Y/n stepped out of her door, and shutting it.

However, Koda was right on her trail, but was shut out by the now closed door. He pouts at the door. And how holds his ear to the door, interested in the conversation that has yet to come.

“So, what’s up?” Y/n asked the green-haired boy.

“I, we, as a class, wanted to apologize for our words today.” Midoryia spoke in a remorseful and quiet tone.

Y/n was taken back. “So, they know that I heard what they were saying? Must have been Todoroki’s doing.”

“Look, it’s fine. I know I’m intimidating-“

“But it’s not fine. We shouldn’t have treated or talked about you that way.”

Y/n was stunned at his words. He took that as a sign to continue, “and we were hoping, if you’d be okay if we start over and become friends.”

Y/n remained cautious with her walls, “You know, friendship isn’t really a perquisite for this course.”

“Of course, I know that. We all do, but it doesn’t hurt to have them, right?”

Y/n felt like tearing up. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to put her trust in that last statement of his.

“I’ll be be down in 5 minutes,” Y/n stated rather blandly, but it didn’t matter to Midoryia.

“Great! See ya!” He waved and started to head back to the elevator, before he pressed the button, Y/n called him once more,

“Midoryia?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“No problem.” and nods his head. He couldn’t be more thrilled that this will all work out.

As for Y/n, she opened her door to her dorm, and closing it as she stepped inside.

As soon as she was in the comfort of her own room, she broke into her happy dance. Her fists clenched, eyes shut, shoulders scrunched, jumping in the air, squeals make their way pass her lips, with the biggest smile on her face

Koda felt a wave of relief of wash over him. He was glad that she was finally experiencing acceptance.

After the moment passes, Y/n sighs and looks at Koda, ruffling his fur on the top of his head.

“Well, shall we?” Y/n said in an extravagant manner as she opened her door and bowed.

Koda, playing along, held his head high and strutted out. Y/n let out a light-hearted laugh and they made their way down, together.

Once Y/n actually made it to the common room, all of her classmates were looking at her, stopping their conversations as well. The confidence that Y/n help was long gone, feeling now awkward yet again.

However, the silence didn’t last too long as the class enveloped her in boisterous apologies, hugs, and pats on the back.

To say Y/n was overwhelmed was understatement. She had never been around these many people, giving attention towards her. It was new territory she had yet to cross.

“Guys, you should probably let her breathe.”

That was Todoroki. Y/n pried her eyes away from Mina who was asking what conditioner she uses, and looked at Shoto. Y/n mouthed a “thank you” and he simply nodded.

The class went back to their seats, muttering apologies again for getting in her personal space.

Now, Y/n faced yet another problem:

Where is she going to sit?!

She kept standing where she stood for a good couple seconds, scanning the area for any good spots.

However, there was actually only one spot open. And, it just happen to be next to Todoroki.

Y/n mentally prepared herself and started her path towards him. Of course, Shoto knew this. He was the one who made sure he saved a seat right next to him just for this occasion.

But things don’t always go according to plan, right?

Rightly so, right before Y/n could take the unaccompanied seat, Denki was coming back from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn, plopping right down on the seat.

“Oh, hey Y/n! I’m glad you made it! You want some popcorn?”

“No, I’m good, thanks though.” Y/n was able to play it off as she chose to sit on the floor in front of the couch, which coincidentally was in front of the seat that Shoto resided.

Shoto was irritated. He wanted you to sit next to him. For crying out loud, that was the whole reason he had this seat open in the first place. All he does is sigh, catching Y/n’s attention.

Y/n turns back to Todoroki, sending a small smile his way, but then turning back to the screen as her fellow classmates were arguing on what to watch.

Y/n put her hand to her chest. This is weird. Why is her heart rate so high? She’s not usually like this. Maybe Todoroki did cast a spell on her.

Y/n couldn’t think about it too much as the movie began playing.

#bnha shoto #todoroki shoto #shoto todoroki x reader #midoriya izuku #mha x you #mha x reader #shoto todoroki x y/n #mha angst #bnha imagines

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glitterytidalwavedragon · 4 years ago

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Expanding into my other Fandoms (I’m gonna have to take a stance) Read the whole thing please.

One of my oldest and most beloved anime is Inuyasha. As of late I have been binged watching the hell out of it as I am getting my BFF into different anime shows. We are really close to entering the Yashahime part of the series, and she asked if I planned to write fanfiction involving the one character which made me even watch the show as a 10-year-old.

Sesshomaru

The first episode I ever watched involved this aloof, entitled dog fighting his brother over the sword in their father’s grave. Specifically, it was part 3 of that whole episode series were Kagome pulled out the sword. I at the time had 3 dogs of German Sheppard/wolf hybrid, they were MASSIVE dogs, fell in love with the big white fluff that was Sesshomaru’s demon form. I use to sneak staying up and watch the show faithfully to see the goodest boy as it was only on at 11pm EST on adult swim. Which meant it was bad and I was breaking the rules, I felt like a rebel.

Now I hesitated answering that question. She has no idea of what is in Yashahime, she is being careful not to spoil it so I told her I didn’t know. Recently, to find out what the feel is for Sesshomaru content, I looked into the tag on tumblr…

OH MY GOD.

Sesshomaru’s tag is FLOODED with hate. Like every four post, there is hate, distain, and attacking happening. As someone who watches Yashahime, I quickly knew why.

Sessrin.

Even now I sigh. And I sigh HARD. I am not for, nor am I against the Sessrin train. Same for the Sesskagu train. I think both sides need to look at things on a logical prospective. I plan to do just that. I know I will get hate from the either side and maybe some support as well. But if I am going to do anything in this fandom (as I like doing ships and reader inserts) it will come up.

So, like my Kaiba post, and my Sebastian Heel post, I will use my research skills as well as my COLLEGE DEGREE WHICH HAS BOTH ART AND MEDIEVAL HISTORY labelled on it to explain why this progression in the story is normal to anti-Sessrin fans and why this isn’t a crime by story standards nor should we look at it as a crime.

AS WELL

Explain to Sessrin fans why it is so weird for non-shippers to see it play out and why so much hate formed.

As I let out another sigh, we shall begin. Let’s start at an historical prospective. (Links at the bottom).

PLEASE READ THE WHOLE THING! I’LL BE ABLE TO TELL!

I will start with the information I can access right away.

While finding charts on the life-span of common folk in 1590’s Feudal Japan is rather difficult, Ancient.edu states that the average lifespan was about 50. To put this in perspective, the average lifespan of Europeans at the time was somewhere between 40-45 with the latter being rare. Since most of us reading are not from Japanese descent, I will through Europe in this first.

If we look at the same time frame of 1590, we are looking at most of Western Europe had now entered the age of Renaissance. According to sources from Learning Resources in association with the National Gallery of Art, marriage was not what TV drama’s from HBO or Hulu depicted. By today standards they would be a crime, as the average age for marriage of an adult female was age 14…

The reasoning behind the young marriage age had multiple factors. First being, females were considered an adult once they were menstruating. Birthing also proved to be fatal, and since the lifespan was at best 40 and 45 if they were lucky, there was really no room to wait. Also Europe at the time had became hugely focused on making sure blood lines were legitimate, meaning to ensure the girl was a virgin, the moment she was able to reproduced she was married off. Those they married were not young teenagers either. Most marriages, a man would be in their thirties, and had probably multiple wives as women died more than men when not counting the battle field.

To make matters worse for the Renaissance Lady, these marriages would leave many young males unable to marry and if their husband died in battle, well, unfortunately they were not seen as desirable. This was due to the idea of a ‘free woman’. Should the girl not have a father, brother or uncle to return to as they too died, a widow had her freedom. But that freedom came at a cost. She would be assumed to have slept around, and in many writings, such as the Canterbury Tales, where Geoffrey Chaucer writes about a Window on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land survived her five husbands and the men in her family. In short, she was made to be a slut and to be looked down upon as no man controlled her.

The point of talking about Europe is because that is something most of us Non-Asian or Japanese people consume and like to paint in large romantic brush strokes of knights and magic. Honestly, reading G.R.R.Martin Song of Ice and Fire, he uses this model as we see the Queen of Dragons, Danny start off at age thirteen shortly after she had her first menstruation.

Now let’s look at Feudal Japan.

As stated before, the lifespan was around 50 years. In some populations, this was even shorter. Nagaoka, Hirata, Yokota and Matsu’ura’s on demographic data at the Yuigahama-minami area in Kamakura, Japan and found both male and female remains that suggested life expectancy to have ended around age 24-25. This was largely due to living conditions and public health. In areas like these, it would make the most sense to marry and repopulate quickly as the expectancy of life was half the national average at the time.

To my frustration, I could not find a clear marriage age for Japanese women at the time of the edo period. HOWEVER, where there is a will there is a way. I took a look at famous Lords or Daimyo’s of the time. The average age of marriage of their wives was between 12-14. Much younger than I expected, but it made sense considering this is a time where war ran the show and marriage was strictly about political gain. One of these Daimyo’s was Masamune Date, who was also 13, but then as he got older took concubines who became considerably younger than him as he became older. The goal was to have as many children as possible for hires and for political marriages to gain power.

Now lets look at Inuyasha the MANGA

Lets get the manga timeline proper here. The whole adventure took place in 11 months, a month shy of Kagome’s 16th birthday. Doing a few estimations, Rin would have travelled with Sesshomaru about 8-9 of those months. But before we get into the relationship, lets look at something the ANIME made a huge mistake with in the beginning and tried to fix as the story went on.

For some reason I could only fine gifs for the Early appearances of Sesshomaru so bear with me.

Early appearances in the manga

^ He was so fickle and a trickster then...

Now early apperances in the anime.

Later appearance in the manga

Laster appearance in the anime

Notice the issue here?

Sesshomaru was CONSIDERABLY younger looking in the start of the manga. In the anime, he started off looking like an fully adult male. But as the anime went on, they tried to make Sesshomaru look younger with subtle changes to his jaw line, eye size, and his height. Yeah, his height had changed. They made him shorter.

While in the manga, we see this young-teen looking demon, slowly mature over 11 months to look like he is in his later teens and by series end, closer to being in his late teens or twenty. Yes, art changes over time, but the anime went a reverse route. I can only guess they spoke to the author of Inuyasha about her ships, as they did Drama CDs, and realized the mistake that was made in making him more mature than he was.

You can’t tell me he doesn’t look closer to his manga self in the final act, because he does.

Since we are on the topic of the anime, lets be clear. The anime timeline and manga timeline are very different. The story in the anime (in the English) suggests that OVER a year has past since Kagome started her journey. They try to fix this in the final act, but it was still so muddled as previous seasons are to be taken as cannon. This could have been due to an translation error in the early production when the anime no longer had anymore manga material to reference. But whatever the case, for English viewers the time the group spent together felt much longer.

So now we come to the heart of the issue.

Because of the mistakes of the anime, a lot of anti-sessrin see the relationship as father daughter. I’ll be honest, watching the anime and solely the anime as a teenager and as an adult (as the manga was on hold for a very long time due to author’s health. I was in college when it finished.), I too thought it was just a father-daughter relationship and Jaken the nanny who got punched all the time. In fact, the English took hard liberties with Kagura, as the English dubs often do with characters, and made it very clear her feelings for the demon lord and Sesshomaru very much recognized them (though he never responded). Even in her death scene, it felt as if he was saying good bye to a friend more than love interest. But who really knows, as there are things that point otherwise. When another demon mock’s Kagura’s death, Sesshomaru gets super pissy.

The manga did also play with this fact when it came out in English, idk if the wording or message is different in the Japanese. Translation errors happen a lot even in todays releases, look at Kuroshitsuji. So of course most anti-sessrin’s did not see this coming in Yashahime when Rin was named mother. In fact it felt like a betrayal as we were sure Sesshomaru had no romantic feelings.

Then there was the Kohaku/Rin mashup that was hinted left and right. The English anime, with its overly dramatic and blunt emotions made it appear one way. That in the end the two kids would probably be married. Then the anime as a whole made Sesshomaru older than intended. I can see why and understand how this became a problem.

On the other side of that coin.

If you followed the dub, seen ‘Swords of an Honorable Ruler’ and read the manga… Sesshomaru was not fatherly to Rin at all. In fact, Jaken picked up all of that leg work. Rin worried for Kohaku, but clearly loved Lord Sesshomaru. Sesshomaru cared about Kagura but he almost CRIED when he lost Rin.

We have to remember that Sesshomaru and Rin’s relationship must have been very hard for the demon. While we never see his mental process expect for a few rare times, we have to remember he hated humans. In the movie, he blamed a human for the early death of his father, Sesshomaru killed without mercy. It made sense that he wouldn’t be fatherly to Rin as her just being there should have caused countless inner conflicts. Hell, he even says his father’s weakness was humans, and look who picked up that trait.

Sesshomaru was designed to, someday, walk in his father’s footsteps. So sess/rin, not a surprise. Also when you see it in a historical perspective, Rin having kids around age 15-16, makes sense. In fact you could argue he waited too long for the time period.

We also need to look more at the manga when concerned with Yashahime. 8-9 months is all Rin travelled with him and he was like hold up, and left her at the village because he KNEW she needed to come to her own conclusion. That no matter what she picked he would live with and protect her. Unconditional love on his end. She cannon wise spent YEARS living with humans and MONTHS with Sesshomaru. Again, by manga standards of cannon.

Now I can already hear the screaming about age and what not. Some sources say Sesshomaru is over 900, by the rule of thumb, if we look at anime and movie releases, we have Sesshomaru being over 500 with no define age and Inuyasha around 270 years old being more pinpointed due to the movie. Just by going by ANIME CANNON. Kagome and Inuyasha, you have a 15 year old with a 270 year old man. If you say being pinned to the tree doesn’t count, then you have 220.

Also, here is something very interesting. In the episode where Inuyasha meets the unmother, he tells her, thinking it was his mom, she died when he was very small and we have flash backs later in the series of him being small running from demons. Demons clearly age much slower than humans, even half-demons. Inuyasha can be 270 but mentally and physically be 15, the same logic works for Sesshomaru, who in the manga is not much older than Inuyasha.

In the manga, there wasn’t any grooming, in the anime, there was a ton of mess-ups but no grooming.

Would this fly in todays world? HELL NO! NO, its gross, she’s a kid. Stop.

I know any fanfic I write will lean heavily on the side of father/daughter because that is what I grew up seeing on the screen. I can’t think of Rin as an adult because years of seeing her as a cheerful little girl. It’s like seeing G.O.T Arya about to have sex for the first time in season 8… I remember when she was a kid on the show. It was way to weird and I had to look away until it ended. But that’s my 2021 mentality.

But Inuyasha is not taking place in 2021. Feudal Japan is a whole other era with its own beliefs, morals and way of life. Those who understand this have nothing wrong with them. They just understand history.

Also, just to bang some nails in…

Anyone remember Bleach? Remember the MOST accepted couple was Ichigo and Rukia…. Rukia who was hundreds of years old and Ichigo who was 15… or Ichigo’s mom who was a teenager and his dad also hundreds of years old.

Most of this also boils down to Sesshomaru being a dude. As in reverse roles in animes its accepted and they don’t have the same historical context. Inuyasha is based off of historical context of Feudal Japan.

We need to stop spreading hate. We can’t accept some forms of literature because its European fantasy but bash other fantasy based literature for doing the same thing.

Sure, its weird for those who were use to seeing the father/daughter dynamic. Yes, there are extreme sessrin fans who post really questionable illegal content when they decide to leave Rin as an 8-year-old…

But this wasn’t ever meant to be perverted. The story was meant to make sense on a logical and historical base.

I hope everyone takes the time to read this. I love Inuyasha, I love Sesshomaru. I am just sick of seeing so many people fighting over what should be the revival of a beloved series. While yes, there is still room for sess/rin not being a thing, until it is stated otherwise, why hate each other? This fandom will only lose people by doing this. Calling people names or accusing them of illegal endorsement can hurt someone these days over social media.

Tumblr allows you to block tags. You don’t have to read anything or watch anything you don’t like. We gain nothing from attacking each other but can lose so much by doing so. Fanart, really good fan fiction, friends, ideas, sharing fond memories. Both sides have the right to feel as they feel, but no right in hurting each other.

A fandom is meant to bring people together. Not start a war…

Thank you.

https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/abs/10.1002/ajpa.20402

http://www.italianrenaissanceresources.com/units/unit-2/essays/husbands-and-wives/#:~:text=Marriage%20not%20only%20reflected%20order,to%20ensure%20the%20bride's%20virginity.

https://www.ancient.eu/Canterbury_Tales/

https://www.ancient.eu/article/1424/daily-life-in-medieval-japan/#:~:text=Just%20as%20Japanese%20people%20today,in%20Western%20Europe%2C%20for%20example.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Date_Masamune

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Megohime

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wirewitchviolet · 4 years ago

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A Little Horrifying Primer on Transphobes

Some time ago, I put together a Little Fact Checking Primer on Trans People, as a basic resource for disabusing people of some of the many completely ridiculous yet absurdly widespread beliefs about trans people that simply have no basis whatsoever in reality. And wouldn’t you know it, every single lie exposed in that primer is not only still widely believed, but is presently being used as a basis to sign some absolutely horrific human rights abuses into law. So it’s high time I follow that up, in this case focused more on who keeps actively spreading these lies and why. I’m going to try and keep things as light as I can here, but we’re going to be looking at the most monstrous side of human nature, so apologies in advance if this is a dark read.

First, let me just note that there are two things I don’t plan to do in this piece. I’m not going to waste time debunking the arguments of the people I’m highlighting (much of this is already covered in my earlier primer, others have done the work in cases where I haven’t, and frankly these people’s claims should be self-evidently utter nonsense to begin with). I am also going to be very selective in what I link to, or even share related images of, as I would frankly not like to fill a post on a blog I generally try to keep safe for all audiences with media directly dealing with, for instance, child sexual assault, and much of the relevant information also involves stochastic terrorism against innocent people, and I would prefer not to throw more fuel onto such fires.

Transphobes lie constantly, about everything.

To some degree this is obvious. We’re talking about people who scaremonger about the possibilities of trans women dominating competitive sports and assaulting people in restrooms, despite the status quo already reflecting the conditions they insist would make these inevitibilities for decades and centuries respectively, and their grim visions never once having come to pass, and also constantly insisting that the woman in the photo below is actually a man, going further to say this is evident to anyone giving her the merest glance.

It goes beyond that though. There’s at least a little plausible deniablity in claims like this, or that “science is on their side” if they were simply uninformed about the world they live in, never actually looking into what laws exist, what science actually says, and never actually meeting a trans person or even seeing a picture of one of us. I’m talking really bold lies here. Like wholecloth fabricating a story that a convicted murder was trans, including anecdotes about wigs dresses and a planned name change, in a major newspaper. Or to cite an old favorite of mine, the time a pack of bigots walked up to a crowd of people peacefully picketing a transphobic legal proposal, started roughing them up and taking closeup photos of members of the crowd to stalk online when they got home, got sufficiently riled up for one to straight up assault an innocent person half her size, filmed the whole thing, uploaded it to youtube, and used stills of that assault as acomanying photos when they went home to write articles about the assailant being a “grandmother” attacked by rowdy trans women. And yes, they did monkey’s paw my wish to see that specific image on newspapers. Interesting side note, when it came to real public light that J.K. Rowling endorsed this sort of hatred, it was because she accidentally pasted some profanity laden rambling about how the imagined moral character of the other party in that incident, years after the fact, into a post praising a child’s fan art of her work.

To be a little less niche, transphobes can’t get enough of spreading the lie that the young fellow in this photo is a girl. Specifically a trans girl, providing proof that all their scaremongering about the dastardly threat of trans girls in competitive sports has finally come to pass.

To be fully clear, that’s a man (or a boy if you want to split hairs about him being 17 in that photo). Mack Beggs. A rather insidious choice for this sort of story, considering the actual context for that photo. See, Beggs attended high school in Texas, during a (still ongoing as I write this) period wherein that particular state had caved to this exact sort of propaganda, and in order to head off a wholly imagined wave of trans girls competing on girls’ sports teams, and enacted a law mandating that in all such competitions must compete under whatever gender is stated on their birth certificates. And as it happens, the first, and to my knowledge ONLY time this has come up was with Beggs here, who again, is a man, as no one with a grip on reality could argue against, has “female” on his birth certificate. Which is another way of saying he is a trans man. The guys in the same boat as trans women who we talk about a whole hell of a lot less because their existence is extremely inconvenient to the majority of transphobic propaganda. Case in point. And this is all information it is really impossible to come across if you’re coming across this photo in any sort of respectable source. Take this story, which is as unambiguous about this as you can get. And yet, in the very comments section of that story, there they are. Carrying on like this story about a trans guy, forced by a transphobic law to compete as a girl, which he absolutely did not want, and received horrific threats over, using phrases like “female to male” and bringing up that he was assigned female at birth and is on testosterone-based HRT, is about a trans woman cheating the system. Or to quote word for word, “Now also transgender female want to be male also compete in female sport. biological born“ That’s not “being confused,” that’s standing next to you in a white desert and complaining about being adrift in a black ocean, bald-faced, not even trying to be convincing just make a power play, lying through one’s teeth.

I could spend this whole article on just this point. Lying about who they are, various people’s falsified credentials, whole websites full of “anonymous parents of children who think they’re trans” turning out to be one single woman documenting the abuse of her very much trans son, or of course the people behind the whole “bathroom bill” panic candidly admitting it was all based on utter fiction. I do have other points to cover though.

Transphobes are firmly entrenched in the media.

It is extremely difficult to find oneself in a position of having to explain to people that a particular group of people is effectively in control of press outlets, as that is rather classically a claim conspiracy theorists absolutely love to toss around at various marginalized groups (including trans people hilariously enough, but of course the most common and lingering version of this is the antisemitic variant). I really can’t get around it here though. Specifically in the U.K., you honestly can say that transphobes control the media. I already touched on this with the assault case I mentioned above and the fabricated story about the murderer, but this is a pretty well-documented situation. I mean, even The Guardian calls out The Guardian on this, and that’s the outlet that gets the most attention because it’s the one with the most otherwise respected name, but every paper in the country has been running transphobic propaganda pieces on a weekly if not daily basis for years now, and while they do get reprimanded by watchdog groups and have mass walk-outs over the worst of it, it’s not like there’s some governing body with the authority to step in about it. Meanwhile the BBC is constantly inviting diehard zealots like Graham Linehan to news programs where he compares being trans to being a nazi, and hosting debates where someone just sits down and repeatedly chants the word “penis” at a trans woman.

Things are better in the rest of the world, but we still have right-wing creeps like Jesse Singal both writing horrific propaganda pieces (we’ll get back to that one) and blackballing trans writers out of covering trans issues ourselves (and personally stalking the hell out of those of us who try). We’ve got our Joe Rogans and Tucker Carlsons out there (no way in hell I’m linking videos here, have a real information link and a still).

The line between diehard transphobes and straight-up nazis basically does not exist.

What even is there to say here? You can easily poke around havens for nazi activity for yourself and compare the particular unique vocabulary used there to the primary bastion of anti-trans hate speech on the internet (the “feminism” section of what was originally a site for parenting tips before violent fascists took the forums over) or just peruse the follows of the thousands of people I’ve blocked on social media and see if you can sort out a clear division in the networks of channers with frog avatars and the accounts with names like GoodieXXrealwoman, or you can read up on Gab and Spinster, the two twitter alternatives that are just different portals to the same server, set up by the same guy. Maybe do some research into “the LGB Alliance,” or WoLF but any way you slice it the only real difference to be found is the general purpose nazis take a little time off now and then to watch borderline pedophilic anime and the really dedicated transphobes think to use language that sounds vaguely well-educated and left-leaning. I mean, this came from the “feminist” side of the fence:

And not to belabor the point here, but the ones claiming to be a bunch of “feminist mums” sure do let the mask slip any time they’re confronted with the fact that “women” includes black women, and oh just have a whole thread about all the weird conspiratory theories these people have about how trans people’s whole existence is some sort of Jewish plot for world domination. I swear a few months ago they were all passing around a story about some bank having an above average number of trans employees and they were all just “and we all know who controls the banks, right?” about it.

Transphobes endorse an awful lot of people who are openly pro-pedophila.

This is the part where I am really loath to link the many many specific examples I have on hand. Or to talk about this at all for reasons of good taste. Or, for that matter, to talk about this in a tumblr post when there’s an ongoing problem of people with backgrounds strongly tied to this site making baseless accusations of pedophilia against every queer person they can find, so let me be very clear just what I’m talking about while avoiding anything too graphic.

That’s James Cantor. Transphobes love him for being one of the closest things they have to a scientist on their side. And I am featuring him in a screenshot here showing that he is followed by current queen of the transphobes J.K. Rowling, while speaking to both another big name in transphobic circles, Debra Soh, and based on their names, what I’m guessing is at least one straight-up nazi. And in case you think “the P” he’s talking about adding to LGBT (or “GLBT” as weird anti-queer bigots who also have issues with women often write it) might stand for “poly” or “pan” he’s all too happy to clarify that.

This is the entire thrust of Cantor’s work and life. He is the world’s biggest pedophile rights advocate. He wants it declassified as a mental disorder, all stigma on it removed, and tirelessly pushes forward the idea that the majority of.. people who feel compelled to sexually assault children are good people who present no potential harm to anyone and should in fact be lauded.

I am not generally one to claim that someone with a PhD is spewing out questionable garbage with regard to their field, but the reason I am aware of Cantor at all is that other transphobes keep trying to hold up a particular post on his blog as "a study” (which it is not) that offers “proof” (in the form of a blurry jpeg of basically some random numbers) of some ridiculous quackery about how trans kids will “grow out of it” if exposed to conversion therapy (another way of saying torture), which Cantor himself seems to be pushing, so I am somewhat skeptical of his academic chops. And I am, of course, REALLY suspicious that all these other bigots gravitate to him purely because they’re that desperate to find anyone with a PhD in anything that backs them up against literally every scientist in a relative field, to the point that they merely forgive his particular advocacy they are plainly all aware of, particularly when such a common fig leaf used by transphobes is “keeping children safe from sexual deviants.”

And of course, Cantor is most often invoked when coming to the defense of Kenneth Zucker. This Kenneth Zucker.

Those are separate papers. Zucker isn’t controversial though for organizing panels to discuss how attractive people agree small children are (at least not exclusively). Mostly, he’s known for running a conversion therapy center which subjected gay and trans children to various sorts of torture in an effort to “fix” them, which at least for those trans "patients” I have spoken with involved a fair amount of having them strip completely naked and talking a lot about their genitals.

Zucker is something of a controversial figure with the transphobic scene, as they are extremely on board with his sexual torture of queer children, but he does actual work (for some value of the term) involving trans people and thus is not able to commit as fully as they would prefer to making life horrible for trans people, due to a professional obligation to acknowledge reality now and then. As an aside, the similarly positioned Ray Blanchard, while not to my knowledge particularly interested in the attractiveness of children, lives in a similar purgatory of trying to reconcile his career, bigotry, and sexual hangups, yielding compromises like this:

Of course, that’s just looking at the straws transphobes grasp at when looking for scientific credibility. Real leaders of the movement include Germaine Greer, author of The Beautiful Boy, which is about what you are afraid it might be, and features a very young child in a cover feature he did not consent to posing for. Or Julie Bindel, who among other things is rather infamous for writing whole articles on subjects like whether a teenage girl she came across maybe has a huge penis you can totally see if you really squint at her skirt. Again, I will not share a link to go along with that one.

Transphobes terrorize and attempt to defund charities and other unambiguously good organizations.

Graham Linehan, previously best known for cowriting some sitcoms and possibly spending a year angling to get into my pants so awkwardly I didn’t pick up on it is now best known for trying to pull the plug on a children’s charity, in a story that somehow also involves Donkey Kong. Well, and the interview about nazis. And possibly the other interview about “defending me from nazis” until it got into his head that I might not be as young and hot as he imagined. Rather not link to a far right extremist youtube channel though.

There’s also a current effort to replace Stonewall (an organization named after the location where a pair of trans women kicked off a riot which is generally agreed to be the start of the LGBT+ rights movement) as the UK’s primary LGBT+ rights organization with the “LGB Alliance.” The hate group mentioned above, with the skull face and the rifle. Closest I can find to an article on that effort on short notice that isn’t propaganda.

Transphobes paper areas in truly disgusting propaganda.

I don’t want to directly link to grown adults skulking around children’s playgrounds and bathrooms plastering surfaces with mass printed stickers of crudely drawn penises, but would encourage you to read this very long post, being sure to load all the images, to really understand how deeply strange this behavior gets.

Finally, I cannot stress this enough, this really extreme behavior I’m citing, and the specific people involved in the examples I’m giving, these aren’t random cranks on the fringe of things. The people going on televised panel discussions, writing up news stories, and testifying before lawmakers in efforts to pass horrifically discriminatory if not literally life-endangering laws (there is a major ongoing effort to legally end all medical care for trans people, and I don’t just mean care directly relating to being trans) are literally the same people involved in the sexualization of children, nazi collaborations, and roving gangs assaulting people in the street. At a bare minimum I urge people, when booking guests and handing out writing contracts, to do background checks and see if they’re platforming actual terrorists. If we could actually bring legal consequences to bear against the worst of this, that would be great too. As things stand though, the whole world is just consistently citing a bunch of racist, woman-hating, serial liars with no real credentials, and questionable attitudes towards the sexual abuse of children, as “trusted experts” and refusing to seat actual trans people or people who have legitimately committed lifetimes to academic and practical work with trans people any seats at the table.

#trans #transphobia #educational resources

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anauthore · 4 years ago

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Escape From Halloweentown {Jack Skellington x Reader}

Summary: When a game of hide-and-seek goes wrong, you find yourself lost in the woods without a way home. Whether it be fate, or just dumb luck, you suddenly find yourself in a far bigger predicament than you ever thought you would be- and it's not just because you can't seem to find your little brother.

**Pairing: **Reader / Jack Skellington. A very slow burn fic.

NOTE: This is a full-length fanfic! If you don’t want to read chapter by chapter on tumblr, please use the following links to read in a different format / on a different website!

Wattpad | Quotev | AO3

Fic Below the Cut | Next Chapter

~PROLOGUE~

‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse…

Except it wasn’t Christmas, or anywhere close. Instead, you recited the familiar rhyme to your little brother for what felt like the thousandth time. Despite it being extremely out-of-season, this is the only bedtime story he would fall asleep to, and if it wasn’t A Visit from St. Nicholas, then it was out of the question. You knew almost every word by heart, barely glancing at the pages and instead opting to check every so often to see if your little brother had fallen asleep yet. You could tell he was struggling to keep his eyes open, and even though he was on the verge of being whisked away to dreamland, he still held on to every last word.

“...happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night.”

You whispered the finishing line and just like that, his quiet snore filled the room. You gently closed the book and sat it in the nook on the shelf that it came from. You tiptoed away as silently as possible, leaving his dinosaur night-light on and shutting the door before you let out a breath you’d been holding to avoid making any unnecessary noise.

You walked down the carpeted hallway toward your kitchen, opening the fridge and searching the mostly-empty shelves for something- anything- to eat. You settled on a half-eaten container of hummus and some crackers that had been left out on the counter for God knows how long.

You were 17, almost 18, jobless and living in an apartment with your father and little brother. He worked long days, barely ever home to spend time with his kids in order to support them. Despite feeling lonely most of the time, you appreciated it immensely because, in the end, it was WAY more than your mother ever did. Your apartment was what real estate agents tend to call “cozy”; nestled in between the edge of a good-sized city and a large expanse of unkempt forest, you often prowled around outside to be completely alone with your thoughts.

The night was bitterly cold, the outside air seeping in from the walls and up from the floor, causing you to shiver and wrap your jacket closer around your body. The house had no heating; your family relied on warm clothes and fluffy blankets to keep comfortable during the winter, and fans and cold showers to stay cool during the summer. Sometimes, you did wish that you lived with your mom, although you always felt guilty for thinking that. To leave your brother, your father… all for what? Central air and heat? A full fridge? You knew the price you’d have to pay, along with the weight of your betrayal, would be more unbearable mental abuse.

You shook off the idea, throwing your scraps away and entering your bedroom. It was smaller than your brother’s room, and way less decorated, however it was yours. You slipped under the covers and curled up, pulling your knees to your chest and shivering for a while before your body heat became equally distributed and warmed you, lulling you into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

You hadn’t realized you were awake, but you suddenly were. Your eyes were well adjusted to the darkness of your room by now, so you could make out the dark shapes of the furniture and walls surrounding you. Outside your window, you could see the deep blue sky, a star or two bright enough to outshine the streetlights planted on the side of the road. You rolled over, stretching, and got comfortable once more before you slowly fell asleep again, only this time, your sleep wasn’t as dreamless.

You woke once more, the same dark sky you saw from your window now consuming everything around you. There was a myriad of stars above your head, brighter than you’ve ever seen them before. A canopy of leaves swayed back and forth in an invisible breeze, seeming to beckon you further, deeper, into this unknown forest. The ground beneath you lurched forward, your legs moving as if they had a mind of their own. You felt evanescent; every atom within you buzzed with energy but at the same time, you were almost completely numb to the world around you.

Further down the path swirled shiny, white flakes, the delicate crystalline designs somehow able to be seen by your human eye. They called to you, whipping your strands wildly about as the chill got worse, the hair standing on end across your arms and neck.

A voice… a small yip- or yowl- penetrated the sound of the air flying across your ears. A dog? Or maybe something more dangerous… a wolf maybe? No, you reasoned, it would have to be a coyote. You walked farther into the storm, squinting and shielding your eyes against the cold when all at once the sky lit up as if the sun had risen: An almost unbearable baby blue tainted everything in shadow, and then-

You opened your eyes, your vision slowly unclouding to reveal the plain walls of your room, your hands gripping the blankets you'd covered yourself with as you felt your body jerk upon impulse. Your heart beat fast and loud in your ears, sensing danger, yet, as always, there was none.

* * *

School was a drag. The hours kept getting longer and longer, the gloomy overcast sky not exactly helping with the problem. You kept zoning out while teachers were talking, your lids bobbing up and down until something startled you or a classmate noticed and shook you awake again. You hadn’t been getting the best night’s sleep, though you tried not to stay up late and follow the advice almost everyone’s parents gave to them:

Stay off your phone. Avoid bright lights. Go to bed early. Do something tiring before bed.

Hell, you’d even tried drinking warm milk! Nothing seemed to be keeping those odd dreams at bay, and every night you’d wake up with your heart hammering in your chest as if you’d just ran a marathon.

Your friends didn’t seem to notice that anything was wrong, and if they did, they didn’t say anything, so you didn’t bother to mention your trouble sleeping. They talked to you and carried on as normal, commenting on the upcoming tests and unfairly long homework sheets given to everyone.

“C’mon, it’s our senior year, AND fall break is almost here! It’s ridiculous that teachers are just loading us up with homework”.

“Well,” chimed in your other friend, walking beside you as Rebecca led the both of you, “senior year is supposed to be difficult. We’re going to college next year, did you forget?”

Rebecca rolled her eyes and continued walking while Hailey laughed, shaking her head at the group’s antics. You smiled, but kept quiet, following the other two outside through the heavy metal doors into the school’s student-filled campus.

All around you people swarmed into untidy lines. They rushed to busses, ran to the parking lot, or sat idly by at the front of the school. You waved farewell before you parted from the now-duo and climbed aboard your bus, barely registering the ride home. From there you shivered in the mild breeze, waiting for your little brother to step off of a similar-yet-different yellow transport.

When he saw you, he grinned widely, trotting toward you as his bag swang side-to-side.

“(Y/n)!”

He barreled into you, wrapping his small arms around your waist before you pried him off and let him run up into your apartment.

“What was that all about? Did something happen today?”

Thomas shook his head, throwing his backpack down in your living room with the rest of the mess that lay there. “I just felt like hugging you.”

You mouthed an, ‘oh, okay’ before beginning to head down the hall to your room, but, not to your surprise, you found Thomas bouncing up and down behind you with each step as he repeatedly said your name.

“What?” you replied, used to his antics by now.

“Can we puh-leaasee play outside? Please please please!” He begged, throwing his body around the hallway in a dramatic, childlike fashion. You humoured him and sighed, the edges of your mouth threatening to turn upward into the hints of a smile.

“Fine. We can’t be outside for too long though, I have stuff to do.”

“Why not-?”

“Because I said so. We play a little bit now, or not at all.”

He huffed and mumbled an ‘okay’ before practically flying down the stairs and out the door, leaving you in the dust as you halfheartedly ran after him. Once you reached the edge of your building’s property, you glanced around, waiting for Thomas to suggest a game for you both to play for a while.

He asked if you would play hide-and-seek with him, but before you could agree, he asked something somewhat… dangerous… for an elementary school student.

“-but let’s play in the woods! C’mon, it’ll be fun, I promise!”

You mulled the idea over before complying to him- not because you were a good older sister, oh no, it was because he was incessantly tugging on the hem of your shirt and hanging off of your sleeves until your top threatened to come off.

“Okay, okay! But we can’t go far into the woods, it’s not safe.” You pointed to a mangled trunk in the distance. “You can’t go past that tree back there, alright? And no cheating.”

He nodded furiously and let go of you. You could tell he was just excited to be outside with someone other than the neighbouring kids. You couldn’t really blame him- the neighbours raised their children to be socially awkward and unable to chime in or have an imagination. In Thomas’ words, they were ‘boring’.

You turned around, facing away from the tree-line and started counting down from ten. You gave your brother some extra time to hide- after all, he was up against you, his eight-teen-year-old sister. You finished counting and yelled the famous “ready or not, here I come!” line before you began to search for his bright orange parka and shaggy (hair colour) hair.

You trekked into the forest, the leaves and twigs crunching underneath your feet as you looked back and forth for Thomas. Minutes passed, and you started to get concerned about the lack of his presence in the designated play area. He couldn’t have gone very far, being nine and of small physical stature. Still, you called out his name, warning him that he would be breaking the rules if he passed the barrier you’d set before the game started. There was no response, and you sighed, pressing on.

“Thomas! This isn’t funny, you cheater!”

You checked your phone- twenty minutes since the game had started and there was no sign of him. He couldn’t have gone far, but that didn’t stop you from worrying. You called out for him again, louder and more frantic this time.

“Seriously, we need to go back!” You paused for a moment before bribing him; “I’ll make you some cookies! Just come here!”

Thirty-five minutes. You had circled around, thinking maybe he didn’t go that deep into the woods, but he was definitely nowhere in the shallows of the tree-line. Your pulse sped up and you thought of your dad coming home to only you and the police- a search party crossed your mind, as well as the guilt you’d feel if you didn’t find him. Your mind ran a thousand miles an hour, trying to focus on the orange parka. Orange parka, orange parka, orange parka, orange… Orange!

There, in the distance, just past the twisted trunk of the tree you’d set as the barrier was a flash of orange and the tell-tale snap of twigs under someone’s quick, evading footfalls.

“Thomas, stop running! Get back here, now!”

You broke out into a sprint, dodging thick trunks and gnarled vines, following the orange parka that somehow kept getting farther away from you. You breathed hard, and despite wanting to stop and catch your breath, you pushed forward.

“Thomas! Thomas, plea- Ugh!”

Your shoe caught a root hidden underneath the entangled blades of grass and you lurched forward, catching yourself on your hands and your knee. You scrambled back up, limping a few paces before you wiped the damp dirt onto your pants and sighed in frustration. Somewhere in the distance, you heard the distinct giggle of your little brother. You called out again, but to no avail.

You had half a mind to just go home, but when you looked behind you, all you could see was trees. You checked the time. It’s been an hour since the start of the game, which was supposed to be fun, yet the stress of it all coupled with your sleep deprivation exhausted you.

Your pace was slower than it had been before, the overcast sky darkening as time stretched on. You didn’t see Thomas anymore, nor could you find your way back to the apartment’s property. You had been running in a straight line, hadn’t you? You didn’t recognize anything when you turned around, nor did you when you walked back.

You tried different directions, but again, it was useless. You hated to think about it, but you were lost.

You checked the time again, unlocking your cell to send an emergency message to your neighbour detailing your time in the woods looking for your brother and asking if he knew the way back home. Your phone buzzed almost immediately, however not with a message you’d wanted to receive.

Message failed to send. Will try again when service becomes available.

You cursed under your breath. No service, huh? That was great.

You couldn’t just stay here. If you picked a direction and just walked in it, you’d eventually find a way out, right? The theory was sound enough, and so, without hesitation, you began to walk.

Soon enough, the trees started to thin, exposing a well-traveled path bare of grass and debris. A wave of relief washed over you, and you quickened your step. The brown of the earth beneath you became exposed as you reached a small clearing surrounded by a circle of trees with what looked like doors plastered on the front of each one.

...Doors? You furrowed a brow, confused as all hell. You stood in the center of the clearing, and sure enough, seven trees stretched into the sky with seven differently-decorated doors facing you in the center, gleaming golden knobs and all.

Despite your utter confusion, you drew closer to the tree nearest to you, running your fingertips over the carvings and delicate handiwork of the unmistakable Christmas tree. You reached for the knob, thinking maybe it would turn and reveal a secret hiding place or- or something, but the knob didn’t budge a single centimeter. You tried again, in a different direction, but the attempt yielded the same result as before.

You walked to the next tree over, and the next from that one, and the next from that one, trying each of the doors only for them to all stay stoic and unmoving. You still admired the craftsmanship and time put into the designs, regardless of whether or not they were completely functional, settling in front of the Halloween-themed tree and idly feeling the divots in the pumpkin’s eyes and mouth.

The sun started to set, casting a very orange glow on you and the circle of trunks. The rays shone particularly bright on your back, and while the warmth was welcome, you stepped out of the way to gaze upon the carrot-coloured sky. After all, it looked like you were spending the night here.

The beams focused on the knob, the warm light reflecting all around you in an intense glow almost as strong as the sun itself. Golden flecks danced around your vision; there was something so beautiful about the refracted light that drew you closer, distracting you as your digits reached out and played with the shadows they made on the knob. Your fingers barely brushed against the golden sphere, the warmth filtering through your skin and pouring into the rest of your body without any semblance of notice, shocking your system. You pulled your hand away out of impulse, as if you’d been burned.

Your eyes didn’t leave the door, nor the knob, and although you hadn’t turned it- only touched it- it swung open, beckoning you, calling you.

And exactly who were you to refuse such a warm invitation?

158 notes · View notes

softboywriting · 4 years ago

Text

Speak

Summary: Finding your soulmate isn’t always as fairytale like as one might hope for. [werewolf story]

Word count: 1.7k

|Masterlist in Bio|

In a world where you meet your soulmate when the phrase that comes to you in dreams is spoken to you, one might think finding your soulmate would be easy. For some it's as simple as a meeting In a cafe, or bumping into someone at the market. So being tackled to the ground and screaming as sticks, rocks and dirt grind into your back isn't how you planned on meeting your soulmate. Actually at the time you had no idea that's what had happened, but how could you, you hadn't heard them speak.

It all started when you went for a walk in the woods behind your house. The area isn't the best and it's known for feral and rouge werewolf activity. Yet you still chose to go out in the late evening for some fresh air after a shit day at work. Of course you have no luck, or perhaps the best luck in the end, but at the time it was the worst. You heard the growling before you saw it, a massive wolf in trees ahead of you. The plan was to turn around quietly and make a run for your yard. Plans never work out do they?

Before you knew it the wolf was blindsiding you, knocking you to the ground. You slid, shirt bunching up and exposing your skin to the coarse dirt and rocks on the path way. It snapped at you, teeth bared as if you were a threat. Instinctively you grasped for a handful of sticks and grass and threw it in defense. It’s side was covered in blood. You remember what you yelled, because it's all you could manage to get out. "Fuck off!" You shouted it as loud as you could. It wasn't as if you had never dealt with wolves before, you grew up with two brothers who could shift and we're just about as large as this one. The fear still struck you hard though, just as the wolf did with a bite to your forearm as you blocked it from going to your face.

You don't know what made it retreat but just as soon as it closed it's jaws around your arm, it was backing away and running down the path. You were left alone, injured, bleeding and scared in the darkening trees.

You made it home and cleaned up, but there was no hiding it from your Dad who would be visiting the next day. As soon as he saw your bandaged arm he decided he had enough of the feral werewolves. You begged him not to do something, not to go out there lest he get hurt himself, but he was stubborn. A human man who doesn't understand.

So here you are in the woods once more, this time you're looking for the wolf that attacked you. You're not angry or upset, you want answers. Even feral werewolves don't attack with no reason. Usually they're scared, hurt or starving. It's crazy. You should just stay home and rest but you cannot let your Dad go after this wolf. You just can't.

Ten minutes turns into half an hour and just when you're about to give up you see the wolf laying in the brush around some fallen trees. It's hurt, bloody fur on its side is a dead giveaway and you put your hands out to it. "I promise I won't hurt you."

It growls. Judging by its size, it's a male.

"My dad is out here and he wants to kill you for this." You raise your arm. "But I know you didn't mean it. I know something else was going on and it was a mistake. I want to help."

The wolf raises itself up and snarls.

"Please? I can help." You step back and it steps forward. "Just follow."

You walk toward the house, avoiding the path wherever possible. Behind you the wolf follows, twigs snapping under his weight. Twice you hear your dad's voice and you have to stop and plead with the wolf to stay quiet.

With much effort you get the wolf into your house and to your bedroom. The plan is to assess it's wounds but that doesn't happen. The moment you close your door and turn around there is no longer a wolf in your room, but a tall very naked man.

"Oh, I didn't think-"

He collapses on the floor with a loud thud. Your heart sinks and you have a moment of panic. What do you do? How do you move him? Is he dead? You kneel down, grabbing a blanket off the bed and covering him. He's breathing. His side is bright pink with scar tissue from what looks like a bite.

"What happened?" You mumble and sit back. Now what do you do? You went through all this trouble to get this wolf here and save him from your dad and now what? Do you let him sleep until he wakes up and then does he leave? You hold your head and sigh heavily. This isn't your brightest idea but somehow you can't help but be concerned for him.

Sometime after midnight you wake up to coughing. It's the man, he's sitting up, arm across his stomach as he coughs violently. He makes a noise of protest and pain after each one. It must hurt so badly.

"Can you stand?" You ask, walking around in front of him.

He looks up at you and your heart skips. His eyes are so beautiful, deep brown and full of need.

"Can you speak?" You take his hand he offers for you to help him up.

He shakes his head.

"Oh." You sigh. So much for finding out more about him. "Does your throat hurt?"

He nods.

"Growling? Whimpering?"

A shake of the head.

You support him as you head to the door of your bathroom. "Haven't used it in so long?"

He nods.

"That's okay." You lower him onto the side of the tub. He grabs your injured arm and you freeze. "It's okay, I'm not mad about it."

He looks hurt.

"You were scared and hurt. I wish I knew what happened."

He looks down at his side and touches it, shaking his head.

You turn on the water and he looks back. "If you're going to stay, you're going to wash up. I know you're not a stray puppy and you don't even know me but-"

His hand closes over yours on the side of the tub and he turns your palm over. He traces letters into your palm. THANK YOU.

"You're welcome. I guess I just couldn't let something happen to you. My dad is hell bent on killing you for attacking me. He doesn't understand that there are plenty of reasons why you may have done it."

He traces the word HUMAN?

You nod. "Yeah, my mom is a werewolf and my half brother's are too. They moved away from town. It's just me and Dad now." You move your hand away from his and grab your shampoo. "Want me to wash your hair or can you do it?"

He points to you and the gestures to his wounded side.

Bathing a complete stranger should be far more surreal than it feels. Somehow you feel like you've known him forever, but you don't even know his name. Should you ask? Is it too late? Does he not want to share it? You pause and he cranes his head back and reaches up to touch your face with his soapy hands.

"What?" You laugh and he just smiles really big, his wolfy teeth on full display. "I wish you could talk."

He sinks down into the water and you stand up to get a towel. You set out a shirt and some shorts that you had laying around from a friend who stayed over a while back.

"I'll leave you alone now." You say as you close the door behind you.

You fall asleep before he comes back out, waking only briefly as the bed shifts. You wonder if he's laying down or sitting beside you. It's too hard to wake up and find out and you roll over and go back to sleep.

When you wake again the room is dimly lit by the morning sky. You're laying face to face with him and his eyes open. He smiles softly, and you smile back.

"Hi, I'm Shawn." He whispers in the most strained voice you've ever heard.

Your heart stops because it's then you realize he is your soulmate. Those are the words you've waited to hear for years now. You suspected that it may be him since you were so drawn to him but this is confirmation. "Hi Shawn." You can't help the excited giggle that comes out of you.

"It's been a long time coming." He pauses to collect himself and force his voice to come out again. "I almost lost myself in the shift."

"It has been too long." You touch his nose and he closes his eyes, a tear rolling down his cheek. Your heart aches seeing him cry but you know it's relief. It's peace. It's joy and freedom from losing himself. "Good thing I came back for you." You wipe his face with your thumb.

“I’m sorry about your arm. I thought you were the wolf that had attacked me.” He touches his side.

“I knew it was a mistake.”

"Mmm. I can't believe it's you though."

"I could say the same. What were my first words for you?"

Shawn laughs and winces, gritting his teeth as the action strains his healing body. "I believe the words were 'Fuck off'. Makes sense now, how we met and all."

"Oh god, that is horrible. You must have thought I would reject you or something." You put your hand over his on the pillow. "Sorry it was so harsh, but you did try to snap at me."

"It's okay. I reacted too quickly." He coughs a bit, covering his mouth with the pillow. "But I have to know, you’re not rejecting me, so can I stay?"

You lean forward and touch your forehead to his. "Until the stars burn out."

--------

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted fics.*****

#stories #werewolf au

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tonguetiedraven · 2 years ago

Note

Would you write something where like maybe an aria or something goes wrong/backfires and Bon can hear Rin’s thoughts for a short period of time? I think it’d be the cutest way for him to hear how absolutely frazzled he makes Rin

@marble-wolf helped me write this one (we're getting nearer the end, lol)

It's bon/rin get together, and only half the story is here since it got a bit long (doesn't it always?) Check the end of this post for a link to the full story!

-- -- -- --

Ryuuji was in class when it happened, which was probably the best case scenario. He could have been in an actual fight when the fuck up happened and that would have likely cost him.

As was, he spoke the aria to fight the bound Satori, felt the magic spark over his skin, the pull of energy in his gut, and a sharp pain pierce through his head.

The first two were meant to happen, and his notes hadn’t mentioned the latter.

Ryuuji curled forward a bit with a pained hiss, pressing a hand to his forehead and not caring that he smeared some chalk dust there as Konekomaru and Shima both moved in closer to help support him and the teacher yelled something.

(The yell made his brain feel a bit like imploding.)

Ryuuji managed a breath, hearing it rattle around in his head painfully, and exhaled as everyone began talking over each other in a constant ramble he couldn’t decipher.

“Bon!” Konekomarua was shaking his arm while Shima was trying to keep him upright, and Ryuuji hadn’t even noticed himself curling forward and towards the floor.

“Another migraine? I told him not to eat those kara mucho. Stubborn idiot.”

Ryuuji squinted up at Konekomaru. Was now really the time? “It’s not a migraine,” he growled.

“Okay?” Shima asked. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

Why were they being so damn loud? And why was it hurting? What the hell good was an aria if it incapacitated you?

“Mr. Suguro!” Miss Yamada barked as she marched up to them. “You transposed the order of those verses. What’s happening?” She crouched in front of him with a pronounced frown. “Surely he didn’t… No. he’d need a high level of concentration to do that. But he is a driven student. I’d say my best if he hadn’t made that mistake.”

Ryuuji directed his pained squint at her. Why was everyone being rude while he was in pain?

“It’s a pain between my eyes. Piercing, not throbbing.” Ryuuji closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. Talking made it worse. Noted.

There were more yells and noise as the rest of the class realized he’d gone down and the teacher began to mutter her way through a list of other possible side effects he couldn’t sort through.

Rin nudged himself between Miss Yamada and Konekomaru, setting his hands on Ryuuji's shoulders.

"Suguro?" He could hear how shallow Bon seemed to be breathing, small inhales as if struggling with pain and…

"Why is he hurt?" Rin asked. "He's pale. I don't smell any blood. Call for help? Yukio could help."

"Is he sure it's not a migraine? Idiot looks like he has a migraine." Izumo hissed.

"Would lavender help him? Poor Suguro."

“It’s not a migraine,” Ryuuji growled, directing his squinting glare at Izumo. (He hadn’t known Rin could smell blood, and he was touched Rin was looking out for it.)

Miss Yamada went a bit pale. “Shit.” She leaned forward and grasped his chin, forcing Ryuuji’s gaze to move back to her. “Mr. Suguro, what are you hearing?”

Everything, was Ryuuji’s first thought, but someone was humming and Shima was rattling off useless facts about the satori that Ryuuji hadn’t managed to block like Ryuuji hadn’t been asked a question, and the others were still mumbling and worrying and the pain was getting a bit more intense.

“Talking?” Ryuuji asked, uncertain what she was wanting from him.

"Oh his head hurts. The talking hurts his head. No talking. I won't talk then. That should help." Rin rambled, a bit lost on why their teacher looked so worried.

"Idiot." Izumo grumbled.

Ryuuji shot her another glare and huffed in frustrated amusement at Rin’s ramble. At least he wanted to help.

“It’ll help,” Ryuuji said softly, turning his gaze back to Miss Yamada who was pale now. The pain was starting to recede and just leaving a weird dull pressure behind. So absolutely not a migraine. He was tempted to stick his tongue out at Izumo, but it wasn’t like she’d ever even had a migraine to know how immediately recognizable they were. (And he hoped she didn’t get one even if she frustrated the hell out of him because they were agony.)

“Mr. Suguro,” she said softly, “no one has said anything.” She blinked, and then, “But if you’re still hearing them, then we’re in trouble.”

“Trouble?” Ryuuji started, and then realized she hadn’t actually opened her mouth during that last statement. And while it was entirely possible that she was as skilled a ventriloquist as Takara, Ryuuji doubted it had been that.

“Fuck.” Miss Yamada muttered without moving her mouth. “Well, Mr. Suguro,” she said out loud, “while I’m impressed at your level of mental control, I’m afraid we have a problem. You inversed the purpose of the aria.”

“I’m sorry?” Inversed? What did that mean? The spell was meant to make his mind unreadable? Was he projecting his thoughts to the demon now?

“If performed improperly, and with enough focus, it can temporarily allow the caster to hear other people’s thoughts.”

“Fuck.”

“What?!”

Ryuuji closed his eyes as clamor of voices seemed to ring out in his head. Loud enough to make it hard to focus on anything else for a moment, let alone work through what that meant.

"Of course it would be him." Izumo scoffed.

Rin took a minute of mulling the words over. "Suguro has lots of mental control. Don't know how he does it. What does inversed mean? Hear other people's thoughts? Suguro hear… my… thoughts? Now? Suguro, what does inversed mean?"

"A problem? I hope we can fix it!" Shiemi worried.

In an immensely weird way, hearing Rin work it all out actually made it easier for Ryuuji to figure out what Miss Yamada had been saying.

“Inversed. I inverted—” no, that wouldn’t help. Never explain a word with the word. “I flipped the point of the aira. Instead of blocking my thoughts, I made everyone else’s thoughts loud.”

Miss Yamada nodded at Ryuuji’s explanations, which also made sense because she hadn’t heard Rin ask the question, and that realization, that it had all been in Rin’s thoughts and Ryuuji had just heard Rin’s thoughts had him swaying a little.

The voices all around him seemed to get louder and tumbled over each other.

"But then… how do we make it stop?" "I really don't need to have Ryuuji in my head. That… I'm…" Rin audibly squeaked and turned his head away from all of them. "Konekomaru's beads are shiny."

"Sucks to be you." Izumo added.

Shiemi tried to quiet her own thoughts but she couldn't help the worry and was wondering how to help.

“Can they read my thoughts?” Ryuuji asked, because if so, he had a lot of things to say to Izumo and he needed to be careful about everyone else. (Maybe not Shima, but absolutely Rin, and why had Rin said he didn’t need Ryuuji in his head? He could understand not wanting someone else to hear your thoughts but Rin made it sound like it was specifically him, and yeah, he didn’t want Rin hearing his thoughts, but that was because he was still figuring out how to confess all of that to Rin.)

“No. It’s only the one way.” Miss Yamada said, and Ryuuji found he had an image of the ocean suddenly in his mind. The gentle lapping of waves was soothing, and he had a strange feeling she was concentrating on that to keep from thinking anything he might hear.

(It was better than the ramble rising around him.)

“It shouldn’t last long,” she finally added. “But I wouldn’t leave you alone today. Is it possible for someone, or ones, to watch you for the remainder of the day? Or at least until the effect has worn off.”

“Hang out with a mind reader? No thank you.” “Not it,” Shima said with a wink.

"I'll do it." "Why did I say that? Cause I— no." Rin was staring at Ryuuji with wide eyes and trying to figure out what he actually wanted to do.

"Bad idea, Okumura."

"Oh, Rin." Shiemi sighed.

"Because um… is he in danger?" Rin asked.

Miss Yamada nodded her head slowly. “That’s why I asked for it.” She directed her attention back to Ryuuji who was trying to figure out why everyone’s immediate reaction was concern and dread for Rin. Was Ryuuji that bad? It wasn’t like he’d asked for this nonsense to happen. No one had mentioned that if you messed up this aria you got a bitch of a headache and the ability to hear everyone’s thoughts.

(And why Rin? Did they think he’d hurt him or something? Ryuuji wasn’t going to hurt him. It was Rin. Random thoughts or not, Ryuuji wasn’t going to hurt him. Shima maybe, but not Rin.)

“You say you get migraines?”

“Yes ma’am. I don’t have one right now. I’ll be fine.” He wasn’t going to make them stay with him. He could feel them thinking how much they didn’t want him reading their thoughts as well as hear it, and the double feedback was uncomfortable and frustrating (and what were they all thinking that they didn’t want him hearing? Specifically Shima. What spy things was he doing?)

She wrinkled her nose. “You’re Arch Knight Lightning’s apprentice? He could probably watch you if Mr. Okumura can’t.”

Ryuuji felt his eye twitch. Nirvana. Reading Lightning’s thoughts? He felt the urge to shower at just the thought. And if something did happen, Lightning would make sure he didn’t die, but he doubted he’d be ‘help.’ And if he was, the methods would probably be worse than whatever actually happened.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“Stop being so stubborn, Bon. Honestly, we’re going to find him passed out in a classroom at this rate. Maybe I should call Torako. She’ll make him listen.”

“Seriously?” Ryuuji asked, turning towards Konekomaru. It earned him a scowl, which made him realize Konekomaru hadn’t said it out loud, and how the hell was he supposed to tell what was said out loud and what wasn’t?! It all sounded the same.

"Lightning is loud though!" Rin objected.

Eyes were turning to him and heads were shaking.

"This should be hilarious." Izumo said.

"Rin…"

"I'll take care of Suguro!" Rin declared, and patted Ryuuji's shoulder. "I like taking care of Ryuuji. Oh, fuck. Umm… I need to get Kuro some new sake, I need to go to the store soon. I'll get…" Rin rambled off a mental list to try and keep his thoughts on one thing but then he noticed a loose string on his coat and his thoughts turned to that instead.

“Wonderful. Class is dismissed for the rest of the day.” Miss Yamada declared, rising up to her own feet. “I can’t have him reading my thoughts.”

Ryuuji rose up as well, watching everyone try and put some space between them. There was an onslaught of overlapping images and words and he couldn’t make anything out of the tangle even if he wanted to. Someone was actually talking as well, and he could only blink at Konekomaru and realize that he was now going to be spending an unknown amount of time with Rin. Alone. Reading Rin’s thoughts. (Rin who was distracted by threads on his coat which had led him to a missing button and somehow he was now thinking about cleaning Kuro’s toys out from under the dresser and Ryuuji had listened to most of that thought train and it had made sense as he listened but now he didn’t know how Rin had arrived there.)

Ryuuji turned to face Rin, feeling his own eyes go wide with the realization that it was just going to be them for who knew how long, and the thought he’d heard, I like taking care of Ryuuji. He hadn’t known Rin called him Ryuuji in his mind. It was the only time he’d ever heard Rin say his name. He was always Suguro.

(Though Rin was Rin in his mind and not Okumura.)

“You, uh, got anymore classes?”

"Just Shura!" Rin said, trying to ignore the nervousness filling him. "I can skip her stuff. I don't think she will care. Give her an excuse to go drink or whatever. Oh but Yukio, what will he do? Do I… uhoh… he…" Rin shook himself and tried to think of anything else. "The light coming from the window makes the floor all rainbow-y."

“You don’t have to skip her. I can just read or work on homework.” Ryuuji didn’t want Rin’s grades suffering over this. Not because he’d apparently made a stupid mistake.

Shouldering his bag, he wondered why Rin was being so weirdly guarded about his thoughts. He wouldn’t have thought Rin would be guarded. He usually seemed to just speak what was on his mind anyway.

Shit! Rin hadn’t actually said that, had he? Ryuuji was being intrusive and creepy and he couldn’t stop it.

"It's an excuse to not go get my ass handed to me for a day. This Knight is on princess protection duty. And yeah, had to say that cause I can't stop my mind. So," Rin stuck his tongue out and picked up his bag and sword sleeve to leave.

"Your dorm or mine? Wait, do you got other classes?" Rin asked.

Ryuuji opened his mouth to comment on the ‘princess’ but realized no one else had heard it and he really couldn’t imagine saying that nickname out loud where everyone else could hear it. He let Rin use it, but no one else. (And he wasn’t going to think about why that was.)

“Your dorm. Mine… It’ll be noisy.” He didn’t want to think about reading all the minds in his dorm. It would be so loud and chaotic and he’d have no way of avoiding that migraine. (And he didn’t want to know their thoughts.)

Then feeling guilty and not wanting to put Rin out anymore than this was (and still hearing Poor Okumuras behind him,” he added a, “I can help with any homework you have.”

Hell, this might make tutoring easier. He’d be able to track exactly where he lost Rin.

"Oh!" Rin perked up and his tail lifted in a wag. "My tail's tangly, I gotta fix that. I can make us a snack! What do you want?! But I don't want to do homework. We can do like… guessing games! You think of something, cause I can't read your mind. This is pretty cool, I don't have to speak for you to hear me. That'd be handy for missions and stuff! Ohhh I got a test on Tuesday!"

Ryuuji found his lips lifting in a smile and didn’t even notice as they walked down the hall towards the exit and Rin’s dorm.

“Does your tail get tangly a lot?” Did they make tail conditioner? “And a test on what? We can work on that.”

Rin gave an audible, "uuugh," and continued in his head, while grabbing his tail and combing through it with his fingers.

"It always gets tangled. Like hair! But it gets caught in everything." Rin held the door open for Ryuuji, bowing a little in a dramatic way.

Once they were out in the open, Rin's thoughts turned to the test and he frowned.

"It's an english class. I'm no good at it. We could just use this on Tuesday! But you don't like cheating so I guess not. You're so… responsible. I guess we study but only for a little bit. Oh I need to text Shura. And tell Yukio. But he doesn't care. I don't think he will care. You're staying for dinner? But…" Rin's eyes went huge and he choked on saliva before he could stop his thoughts, "are you staying the night?"

Ryuuji felt his cheeks go dark red in a sudden blush. “I don’t—I don’t know. I might? It depends how long this thing lasts.” Spending the night at Rin’s dorm. Last time he’d stayed over there it had been for the exam and there had been too many naberiuses. (But Ryuuji knew that death verse now.)

Staying over there with Rin having to watch him… It was making him blush all the more.

“And I’m gonna help ya so you don’t have to cheat. You’ll just know the answers,” he hurriedly added, not wanting to think about spending the night and having this through tomorrow’s classes. What a headache. He wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything.

(A few students gave him strange looks as they passed and Ryuuji realized it sounded like he was just having a conversation with himself.)

"Okay." Rin watched the ground, counting the cracks in the concrete to keep his mind off anything else. "Just know the answers… you overextend my abilities."

"But if we do study… not long. Then we will both have a headache!" Rin added.

Ryuuji rubbed at his own temple. He didn’t want that coming back. It had been a bitch. Hopefully this quirk vanished less painfully than it had arrived.

“If we do?” He asked, raising a teasing eyebrow. (He didn’t like the weird tension that kept cropping up in Rin’s thoughts.) “Funny how you think you’re getting out of studying.” He gave Rin’s arm a friendly bump as he spoke, steering them towards the dorm.

Rin blushed at the tease. "Fuck, he's adora— fuck, this is going to be problem. I'm making us a snack first!" Rin nearly mentally shouted the second part.

Ryuuji winced away from the mental volume. “Okay.”

Curiosity was burning in his gut. What had Rin almost thought? Why did he seem upset about it? How did Ryuuji distract himself from wondering when he wasn’t even supposed to hear it to begin with?

The dorm loomed ahead and Ryuuji picked up the pace a little to open the door for Rin this time.

“Anything I can help with?” He asked as Rin walked inside. (Was Ryuuji imagining the stiff way his tail was moving? Was he making Rin uncomfortable? Of course he was, he was reading Rin’s mind without Rin’s permission.)

"Nope." Rin quickly answered. "Want a snack?"

"Rin!" Kuro yowled and was zooming out of the windowsill, his feet hopping and he jumped up on Rin's shoulders. "Oh Suguro! Hi Suguro!"

Rin relaxed under the familiar excitement of the cat sidhe, returning the purr with his own and bumping their heads together.

Ryuuji startled a little at hearing Kuro’s voice. He knew the cat sidhe could talk, but not in a way they could hear.

“Hi, Kuro,” he said softly, deciding he liked the cat sidhe’s voice. “Do you mind if I hang around this afternoon?” He didn’t particularly want to explain why. Not enough that he’d apparently made a stupid mistake in his best class (at least the way his teacher talked made it sound immensely stupid) it had to make things weird for everyone around him.

(He was going to find a satori and practice the aria the proper way until he had it mastered.)

"Not at all! Rin really likes—"

"Kuro! For today, he can understand you!" Rin cut off the cat and reached up to grab at Kuro's face.

Kuro chirped in surprise and looked back at Ryuuji. "Oh!" Kuro moved to sit on Ryuuji's shoulders, licking his temple with a purr.

"Kitchen!" Rin squeaked. "Kuro's going to give me away, wait! Floor! Tiles. There's a couple new broken ones. I broke 'em."

“Give you away?” Ryuuji asked, scratching at Kuro’s cheek. “How’d they break?”

(What did Rin really like? Every interesting thought was getting cut short.)

He took a step down the hall towards the kitchen. Maybe a snack would settle Rin down? He seemed a bit frantic and Ryuuji was growing more and more certain it was himself that was causing that franticness and he was worried about that.

Rin gnawed at his lip. "No! No, I'm good! Nothing to hide!" His heart was thundering in his chest now. "Just… broke the tiles when I was messing around with Kuro."

Rin hissed at Kuro. "Shut up."

"I'm not going to be able to hide it. Fuck! I… it's not my fault, okay? I didn't…" Rin was going to explode and pretend the flames starting to flicker weren't there.

Kuro… "quit laughing!" Rin snapped.

Ryuuji didn't know what it was, but something was freaking Rin out and he was already putting Rin out by making him more or less babysit Ryuuji, so Ryuuji offered Rin what he hoped looked like a gentle smile.

"Subject change?" He offered. "What new recipes have you learned?"

Ryuuji knew Rin could ramble about that.

Get the full story here! Rated T, Fluff, Light Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, and Getting Together ;)

#bonrin #bon x rin #ao no exorcist #blue exorcist #my tumblr fics #ryuuji suguro #rin okumura #ryuji suguro #ane #aoe #aoex #bonxrin #bonfire #bon/rin #bon suguro

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rip-in-peace-eraserhead · 4 years ago

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Black and Gold (Erasermight)

“The smile Yagi tried to pass off as normal was honestly pitiful considering how tense his jaw was.

‘I will think about it but for now, can we not discuss real soulmates? Or at least my soulmate. The gossip magazines are funny but beyond that…just don't.’ ”

---

With the first real touch between you and your soulmate marked on your skin permanently, handshakes can become proposals, an unexpected high-five could be the beginning of a life-long relationship, and bumping into a stranger could intertwine your fates for eternity.

But for those whose soulmarks are way outside the norm such as a punch to the stomach or a hand around their neck can indicate much more than their first meeting.

What are you supposed to do when the deck that fate hands you includes nearly dying in their arms?

Ao3 Link

Red and my submission for the 2021 Erasermight Big Bang. The art is embedded in the fic or I will link the post when she ends up posting.

I will add a sample under the cut if you aren’t sure and want to check out my writing style.

[...] This was enough of a cue for Shouta to get the hell out before the combined extrovert energy gave him a headache. But of course, Hizashi either purposefully coincidentally chose that moment to drape himself across the entire couch, including Aizawa’s lap.

“The article itself is like, 500 words of repetitive bullshit but look -”

He held out the cover of the magazine to show first Yagi, then Nemuri. Shouta was forgotten but he had already read it when Hizashi was waving it around earlier.

“They think I’m hiding my soulmark under my mustache!”

“I’m surprised they think there’s enough hair there to even cover something like that. What, did they think you grew out a tiny triangle just to-”

Hizashi took a half-assed swing at Aizawa, prompting him to get shoved off the couch and onto the floor. (Luckily for him, he’d taken off his Directional speaker beforehand.) He immediately popped back up and glared at Shouta.

“Oh so I’m fine to roast but if I talk about how proper my handshake soulmark is compared to whatever the fuck is going to happen to you-” Aizawa’s eyes glowed that deep blood red as he cut off Hizashi’s voice and then proceeded to wrap the poor hero into a cocoon.

Nemuri shamelessly laughed at Hizashi’s downfall while Yagi tried desperately to keep his laughter contained and hopefully mitigate Shouta’s rage. “If you don’t mind me joining in, I can share the most ridiculous theory I’ve ever heard about my own soulmark.”

A she-wolf would have been less dangerous than the beast Nemuri became when she sniffed out gossip. So with both All Might and Yagi always being fully covered up from the top of his neck to his toes, anything she could get about this would be prime material.

Nemuri practically jumped on him. “Spill, Number 1. I can’t wait to hear what crazy theory you’ve been put under.”

Despite leaning as far away as possible, Yagi was beet red.

“Does having a full-body soulmark count? Some gossip reporter decided that I must have met my soulmate while on the job and they could turn a part or all of themselves into liquid. They swept me up and ta-da, that’s apparently why I wear so much fabric.”

Nemuri leaned in just a tiny bit too close. “Well, is it true? Are you a literal golden adonis from the neck down?”

Yagi flushed a dark red as she leaned towards him again, this time in a more provocative way.

“N-No, it isn’t. That’s why I called it a theory.”

Somehow Hizashi had managed to wiggle Aizawa’s scarf out of his mouth. “Then can you spill the deets here? We’re all friends and we’ve got two of the most public and one of the most underground heroes in the business here. We know how to keep a secret.”

All the casual bravado and humor Yagi had been exuding immediately shut down like someone had smashed the one light in the room. Hizashi responded with an expression that looked like he wanted to remove his tongue and throw it out the window.

In the most uncharacteristic action made in his life, Shouta opened his mouth to try and save the other hero’s pride. [...]

#embb2021 #erasermight big bang 2021 #bnha #bnha fic #mha #erasermight #aizawa shouta #Toshinori Yagi #eraserhead #All Might

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teenwolffanclub-me · 4 years ago

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Season 1, Episode 3: Pack Mentality

Hey there beautiful reader! If you’re new here, this is a series I’m writing where each chapter is an episode from the first season of Teen Wolf. If you’ve been here before, hey! I missed you! Previous and future chapters are linked at the end of each part if you want to catch up.

Pairing: Stiles x Psychic! Reader (eventually)

P.S. Derek is *ominous* and Scott is a dumbass.

----------

“I don’t know, it just feels like something is off.” Allison groaned from beside me.

Lydia, who was heading to lunch with us on my other side, rolled her eyes. I couldn’t really blame her. Allison had been complaining about Scott’s odd behavior this morning for the past five minutes. Apparently, he was avoiding her.

It’d been exactly one week since my weird encounter with Scott and Stiles last Friday. I hadn’t spoken to either of them since. Stiles had tried cornering me in the halls on several occasions, but I managed to get away each time. I honestly wanted nothing to do with them or their supernatural problems.

I just wanted to be normal for once.

So imagine my horror when Lydia went straight for their table in the cafeteria. Allison looked all too happy for another chance to talk to Scott, but I just stood frozen in place.

I knew it wouldn’t be possible to avoid them forever—Beacon Hills isn’t a huge town—but I wasn’t ready to confront them again yet. As I finally approached the table after everyone else, the two boys stared at me before sharing a long look.

Well, that can’t mean anything good.

“Why are they sitting with us?” Stiles leaned across the table to ask Scott, who just shrugged, as we all sat down. Man, someone needs to teach this guy how to whisper.

Scott ended up sandwiched between Lydia and Allison. Danny plopped down beside Stiles and Jackson took the chair at the head of the table. The only option left for me was on Stiles’ other side, so I begrudgingly sat there. I felt his eyes on me but did my best to ignore it.

“So, I hear they’re saying it was some type of animal attack. Probably a cougar?” Danny played with his apple and leaned his elbows on the table.

I assumed he was talking about the poor man who’d been brutally attacked in one of the school busses overnight. There were enough rumors going around school to host an entire newscast, but no one really knew anything for sure.

“I heard mountain lion.” Jackson corrected.

“A cougar is a mountain lion.” Lydia muttered, seemingly embarrassed to know that fact. She constantly downplayed her intelligence, but I knew she was practically a genius.

Jackson furrowed his brows at her in annoyance. “Who cares? The guy was probably just some homeless tweaker who was gonna die anyway.”

Stiles put down his half peeled orange and fished his phone from his back pocket. Within seconds he had a news article about the incident pulled up.

“Actually, I just found out who it is. Check it out.” He put his phone in the middle of the table so everyone could see.

I had to lean forward to get a glimpse of the small screen, which had my shoulder just a couple inches shy of resting on Stiles’ arm. I chewed on my bottom lip as I felt the warmth from his body. He let out a quick huff and stiffened beside me, so I took that as a sign to back away. My cheeks grew hot as I leaned back into my chair and avoided his wandering gaze.

The video he played stated that the victim was a bus driver for the district. Stiles and Scott shared a wide-eyed look that told me there was more to the story before Lydia changed the subject to a double date she wanted Allison and Scott to go on tonight.

They both looked uncomfortable with the idea, but eventually agreed, even after Jackson said it would be more fun to stab himself in the face with his fork than hangout with Scott. A little dramatic, if you ask me. But whatever. I was just glad I wouldn’t have to sit through it with them.

Lunch ended shortly after, and everyone dissipated quickly. I had plans to meet Allison at our lockers after school so she could drive me home in her new car, but I wouldn’t see any of my friends until then.

I collected my things and stood to leave, but stopped when a hand wrapped around my bicep.

“Not so fast.” It was Stiles. He looked from side to side before leaning only a few inches away and once again failing at whispering. “Have you told them?”

“Told who what?” I decided to play dumb and he cocked his head at me in annoyance.

“Come on, Y/N. You know what I mean. The wolfy stuff?” He waved his free hand around as he talked.

“Look, I don’t want anything to do with you, Scott, or the supernatural.” I tried to make that sound believable. It wasn’t that I was lying. Its’s just, without all the weird things going on, I would love to be both his and Scott’s friends. I just couldn’t risk getting involved in this kind of thing.

His eyes twitched at me and I sighed. “I don’t plan on telling anyone.”

“Okay. Good. Because Derek and Scott? They can’t afford...”

Out of nowhere, a sudden wave of dizziness washed over me. Stiles’ voice faded away until all I could hear was a low ringing in my ears. The ground tilted beneath me and I stumbled to the side, growing faint. Stiles’ eyes widened and he pulled me upright with the hand that was still holding onto me.

I could see his lips moving, but no sound reached my ears. It was like his words had somehow triggered an episode. I closed my eyes tightly but instantly regretted that decision as images flashed through my mind quickly. It was Scott, fighting someone. Or something. He was in a dilapidated building that looked like it was going to crumble to the ground any second.

After a moment I realized it was the Hale house, and the monster he was fighting was Derek. He looked different. Almost animalistic. Like...a wolf.

I gasped myself out of the vision, and Stiles’ panicked voice filled my ears in a rush.

“What is that? What are you doing? Are you having a stroke or something?”

I tried to catch my breath and piece together everything I’d just seen. Whatever it was, I gathered that Scott would be in serious danger if he came anywhere near Derek today. I hesitated, not wanting to sound crazy, but then remembered Stiles had just seen that whole thing.

“You can’t let Scott go to Derek’s tonight.” I sounded way more worried than I’d meant to as I hurried to get the words out.

“Derek?” Stiles’ thin brows pinched in question. “We had him arrested a few days ago.”

I blinked, surprised. I knew he was in jail, because I’d heard the Sheriff talking in the hall this morning about his upcoming release. But I had no idea Scott and Stiles were to blame. That might explain why Derek would want to kill Scott...

“You didn’t hear? He was released this morning. They determined the animal that attacked the bus driver was a...” I trailed off, my eyes growing wide as I put the pieces together. “Wolf.”

Stiles’ face mirrored the horror I felt inside as he finally let go of my arm and stumbled back a few steps. “Yeah. We’re dead.”

--------------------

I fidgeted with my hands in my lap as I sat on Allison’s bed. She and Lydia were picking out what they wanted to wear for their double date tonight, but I could hardly focus on a word they were saying.

My stomach was in knots and my anxiety was only rising with each passing minute. I didn’t even know Scott well, but the thought of him being killed by Derek was still unsettling. I’d already figured out that Derek is a werewolf. And most likely a murderer.

The police and hospital staff determined that a wolf killed the bus driver, but there haven’t been any wolf sightings in Beacon Hills for nearly sixty years.

Yes, I looked it up.

All signs pointed to Derek, and I could feel that my earlier vision was getting progressively closer to coming true. I had no idea how, but if my jitters were any indication, nothing good was coming.

“Y/N?” I snapped back into the present at the sound of Lydia’s voice.

I looked up from my hands to see that both of them were staring at me expectantly.

“Um.” I cleared my throat. “What?”

Lydia rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips. “I said, Allison’s taste is dwindling by the minute. Don't you agree? Come take a look.”

I hesitantly joined them at her closet and flicked through her clothes. They weren't terrible by any means. Definitely not mine or Lydia’s style, but they didn't have to be. I found a black shirt with glittering sequins on the front and pulled it free.

“What about this?”

Lydia hummed and watched Allison hold it up after she’d taken it from me.

Just then, Allison’s bedroom door popped open gently. Her dad walked in with a pleasant smile on his lips. He was pulling his arms through a green jacket that complimented his red flannel shirt, but stopped with one arm still free.

His eyes traveled over the three of us. “Sorry, I forgot to knock.”

Lydia threw herself on the bed and landed with one arm propped beneath her head and the other on her hip. What the hell was she doing and why was she making that seductive face? “Hey, Mr. Argent.”

Allison tucked her hair behind her ears and dropped the shirt beside Lydia. “Dad. Did you need something?”

Her demeanor had instantly changed the second he walked in. I knew they had a good relationship for the most part, but she clearly didn’t approve of him being in here right now.

“I wanted to tell you that you’re staying in tonight.” He continued putting on his jacket casually, as if he didn’t just ruin her plans.

“What? I’m going out with my friends tonight.” Her eyes widened in shock at his words.

I suddenly felt out of place. The last thing I wanted to listen to was one of my friends fighting with their parents. It just was plain awkward. Lydia sat up on the bed and I could’ve sworn I saw a little disappointed frown pull at her lips.

“Not while some animal is out there attacking people.” He shook his head like he couldn’t believe that Allison wanted to leave the house at all.

I mean, he had a point. There was a psycho killer out there. They just didn’t know that it also happened to be a mythical creature. And a brooding recluse in leather.

“Dad! I... I’m—” Allison raised her voice and threw her arms down in frustration.

“Hey, hey.” Her dad interrupted with a stern look. “It’s out of my hands. There’s a curfew. No one’s allowed out past nine thirty.”

I had actually forgotten about that. It was pretty dumb, really. It wasn’t like an animal would look at the clock and say, “Oh, crap. It’s not nine thirty yet. Can’t attack anyone for ten more minutes.”

Allison’s dad turned to leave and she huffed. Looks like they’ll have to find another way to go on their date.

------------------

It was nearly midnight now, and I hadn’t heard any grief filled screaming from next door, so I figured Scott was okay. The car in the driveway let me know that his mom was home and I took that as another good sign. He probably was too. I needed to stop freaking out.

I was home alone, which didn’t help. There wouldn’t be anyone here to distract me from my mounting anxiety until five in the morning, when mom got off of work. To pass the time, I put on a random trash reality show and laid mindlessly on the couch.

I didn’t want to think right now. I wanted a distraction from the craziness that was ensuing all around me, and TV was always reliable.

I nearly had a heart attack when someone began aggressively banging on the front door. It wasn’t even close to normal knocking. No, it was I’m being chased by an axe murderer and you need to let me in right now before I’m decapitated kind of hammering.

I jumped to my feet and jogged to the door to see who it was, afraid something was wrong. I pressed my eye to the peep hole and frowned in confusion, the wood vibrating beneath my fingers. The incessant pounding continued up until the very moment I swung the door open.

I stared expectantly at the boy in front of me, who still had his right hand raised as if he were going to continue trying to wake up the whole damn neighborhood.

“Scott’s not home.” Stiles somehow managed to be out of breath from the short walk between our houses.

A few tense beats of silence passed between us as I waited for him to continue. When it was clear that he wasn’t going to, I prodded. “And?”

“And that’s bad. Very very bad.”

I let my eyes sweep over him, half convinced that he was drunk or something. He wasn’t making any sense. For starters, why would I care if Scott is home or not? And why was he in such a frenzy over it? It looked like he’d jumped out of bed and ran straight here. He was only wearing a pair of dark wash jeans and a grey t-shirt with a skull on it, so I knew he hadn’t taken his time in getting ready. If he had, he’d be wearing at least two other layers.

“I already checked Allison’s. His mom thought he was still on the date. He isn’t answering any of my texts.” Stiles was rambling, clearly very worked up.

I moved to pull my phone out of my back pocket. “I’ll just call Allison, I’m sure she knows where—”

“No!” Stiles slapped it out of my hand and I watched as it clattered onto the concrete a few feet away.

My jaw dropped in shock and his eyes widened as if realizing what he just did. He stood frozen for a moment before scooping it up and shoving it into the pocket of his jacket.

“Are you crazy? Give that back.” I took a small step outside, but didn’t go far. I still wasn't wearing any shoes.

He shook his head quickly. “He has to be at Derek’s. You’re coming with me.”

“Okay, now I know you’re crazy.” I let out a humorless laugh but grew serious again when he just stared at me with his wide caramel eyes. “Why would I come with you?”

“All I have is my Jeep and a baseball bat, but I need to make sure he’s okay. I’m slightly terrified. And I have your phone.”

I frowned. So he was holding it hostage now. There was no way I would ever willingly set foot on that property again. The last time I was there, I saw half of a dead body. I did not want to see the other half. Or a new dead body, like Scott’s.

There was absolutely no way.

——————

The Jeep skidded to a stop outside the Hale house. It was so abrupt that I whipped forward in the passenger seat, my face just barely missing the dashboard due to my seatbelt.

Stiles sent me a sheepish, lopsided smile before bolting from the car. I rolled my eyes up to the sky and sighed. I was so going to regret this.

I jumped out and followed him to the front door, noticing that Scott’s bike was laying beside the porch. I silently pointed at it and Stiles stiffened as he stood with one hand on the door. That wasn’t exactly a good sign.

Suddenly, Scott’s voice echoed from inside.

“Derek! I know you’re here. I know what you did!” He sounded frantic.

Stiles immediately ran into the house and I had no choice but to follow. Scott whipped around at the sound of the door slamming open. His wide eyes moved from Stiles to me in confusion.

“I didn't do anything.” Derek’s disembodied voice drifted from somewhere upstairs.

Seemingly forgetting about our existence, Scott turned back to the wide staircase in front of him.

“You killed him!” He called upward.

He must be talking about the bus driver. It was only logical that Derek was the murderer, but why Scott thought it was a good idea to confront him about it, I had no idea. He must have a death wish. My heart started hammering in my chest. I didn’t want to be anywhere near the guy.

“He died...” Derek responded, sounding as ominous as ever.

Scott took the first step. “Like your sister died?”

His sister?

“My sister was missing.” His voice raised a little in anger. He was still nowhere to be seen. “I came here looking for her.”

“Well, you found her.” Scott continued moving up the stairs slowly, looking for Derek with each movement.

“I found her in pieces! Being used as bait to catch me!” His voice echoed throughout the entire house now as he grew louder. Scott was pissing him off, which was quite possibly the dumbest thing I’d ever witnessed.

Oh, shit. The body in the yard was his sister. My blood ran cold. What kind of sick bastard kills their own family? Being here was such a bad idea.

Scott was at the top of the stairs now, turning in circles slowly. “I think you killed them both, and I’m going to tell everyone. Starting with the sheriff.”

Stiles stiffened beside me at the mention of his father. I didn’t blame him. He may be the sheriff, but that didn't exactly qualify him to investigate supernatural murders. I saw a shadow shift upstairs and my heart plummeted into my stomach.

“Watch out!” I called, but it was too late.

Derek appeared from the darkness and shoved Scott down the stairs violently. I gasped and covered my mouth as he tumbled down like a rag doll. Derek just stood at the top, watching. Stiles jerked into motion, running to his side as he lay crumbled on the hardwood floors.

Scott pushed himself up to his knees and groaned. Then, he lifted his head and growled loudly at Stiles. His eyes widened in fear and he stumbled back, falling on his ass. He scrambled away as fast as he could, rejoining my side.

All I could do was stare with wide eyes, my jaw almost hitting the floor. Scott looked half animal, half human. His eyes were glowing bright yellow, his brow was thicker, his ears were pointy, and he had deadly long canines. His fingernails had been replaced by lethal claws. He was in full werewolf mode.

Derek jumped down the entire staircase in one fluid motion. When he landed gracefully on his feet, Stiles gripped my arms and tugged me backwards. I stumbled into him, my back hitting his chest, but I was too shocked by the sight before me to move away. We ducked down beside the staircase.

The two werewolves stared at each other for a long moment before Scott clutched the lapels of Derek’s jacket and threw him into the air. I couldn’t help but gasp as he went flying through a nearby wall. Scott was strong as hell, which would be cool in any other situation, but right now it was kind of terrifying. The house fell into silence as Derek collected himself in the other room.

“Get out of here.” Scott growled in our direction, his voice thick and guttural.

He didn’t need to tell me twice. I was about to do just that, when Derek came striding back into the foyer. I froze in a half crouched position until Stiles pulled me back down against him. If we weren't in danger right now, I would've blushed at our close proximity. My back was pressed to his chest again, and he had a hand clasped around one of my shoulders to hold me in place.

“That was cute.” Derek slowly removed his leather jacket and discarded it on the floor.

Oh, God. That couldn't be good.

The two beasts growled at each other while walking in circles before Derek suddenly lifted Scott by the shoulders and slammed him back into a wall right in front of where we hid. Stiles let go of my shoulder to grip one of my hands tightly as we stumbled up the stairs, having nowhere else to go.

Derek looked utterly petrifying. He was way bigger than Scott, and clearly stronger. He was pretty much handing him his ass in this fight already, but it looked like he was holding back at the same time. I didn’t doubt for a second that he could easily end it at any moment.

He landed punch after punch, and all Stiles and I could do was watch. At that moment, I realized he hadn’t even brought his bat inside. We were utterly useless.

It seemed to go on forever. Scott landed some punches, but it was nothing compared to the damage Derek was doing. I let out a shaky breath when I realized I’d been holding it in for several seconds. I cringed as Derek lifted Scott into the air by his neck, only to slam him down onto the floor. He repeated this action several times, until Scott was left groaning on the ground in a crumpled heap.

Then, they both shifted back to normal.

“I didn’t kill him.” Derek clenched his fists and took a threatening step toward Scott. “Neither of us did. It’s not your fault, and it’s not mine.”

“This? This is all your fault! You ruined my life!” Scott, being the dumbass that he is, got in Derek’s face and yelled his frustrations.

“No, I didn’t.” Derek insisted, raising his voice a little too.

“You’re the one who bit me.”

“No, I’m not.”

I shifted uncomfortably beside Stiles. It looked like the fighting was over, but that didn't make me want to be here any more. This place would give me the creeps even if there weren’t two werewolves bickering in front of me.

“This seems like a private conversation.” I muttered and popped to my feet. He spazzed out and grabbed my arms quickly.

“Are you insane?” He forced me back down with a glare.

“What?!” Scott suddenly shouted, and I jumped.

“I’m not the one who bit you.”

Scott fell back onto a nasty green couch behind him. That news had taken the air right from his lungs. He stared at the dusty floors for a long moment, processing. “There’s another...”

“Its called an alpha. It’s the most dangerous of our kind. You and I, we’re betas. This thing is more powerful, more animal, than either of us. My sister came here looking for him. Now I’m trying to find him, but I don’t think I can do it without you.” Derek was looking at Scott intensely, urging him to listen. To help him.

I wasn't entirely sure that he was even telling the truth. It really did look like he killed that girl. His sister. Half of her was buried in his yard, for God’s sake. We didn't know him at all. Why should be just believe him?

“Why me?” Scott asked breathlessly. It seemed he was a lot more willing to go along with this.

“Because he’s the one that bit you.” I stiffened. Didn't that mean they were somehow connected? I’d done as much reading about werewolves as possible, but there wasn't as much online as you would think.

“You’re part of his pack. It’s you, Scott. You’re the one he wants.”

“You don't believe this, do you?” I whispered to Stiles, who shook his head solemnly.

“Not for a second.”

Episode 2, Part Two Episode 4

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falseroar · 4 years ago

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Dog Days Part 26: Just a Few Questions

((In exchange for helping cover up what happened at the studio, Dr. Iplier has a request of Dr. Schneeplestein and you. Abe has some regrets about offering to go with Chase to the Institute, but with Jackie’s “help” decides not to back out now.

This is a long one! (Edit: Never mind. I just checked, and the next two parts are both 7k+ words each. I’m beginning to suspect this is just going to be a theme from here on out.) I also sort of introduced another OC for this one, so hopefully that’s not too distracting. I’ll explain more about that in the end notes.

Here’s links to Part 25 and to the series masterlist.))

The doctor allowed Abe to stay the night in the clinic, on the condition that he didn’t leave the room as much as possible. Abe wasn’t sure if that was so Marvin could keep an eye on him while Schneeplestein was busy, or if he didn’t want the hunter scaring off his other patients. Either way, he had no intention of leaving, and neither did Jameson. With two beds in one room, it was already crowded enough without all of them there, so it only took a little bit of urging from the doctor to convince Chase to go home for the night, with Jackie riding along to keep an eye on him and to get some fresh air.

Jameson was more than willing to answer Abe’s questions and ask a few of his own, the two of them passing his phone back and forth with his notes app open, at least when he wasn’t arguing with Marvin about what the doctor’s definition of “rest” meant. Between the magician and the way Jackie fidgeted restlessly until Chase offered him an excuse to leave, Abe suspected these guys weren’t used to sitting still for long. Not that he could judge them there.

The doctor looked in occasionally, but otherwise the only sounds they heard from the rest of the clinic was the slow but steady stream of patients going in and out throughout the night, about the same number as Abe usually counted when he had been watching from the outside. All those nights watching the doctor, and he didn’t expected to end up here in one of these rooms, keeping an eye on the partner he thought he lost for good.

Or trying to keep an eye on you. It was a long, quiet night, and when you woke up the room was dark. Marvin was lying on the other bed, still wearing his mask, Jameson sitting back in the chair next to him with his head propped up against the wall behind him, while Abe had fallen asleep with his head resting on your bed. A soft snore escaped from the hunter as you looked at the three of them and wondered what time it was, a question that was answered a few minutes later when the door cracked open and Henrik peeped in.

Spotting your open eyes, he whispered knowing that you would be able to hear him even from across the room, “How are you feeling? Need anyzhing?”

“Just thirsty,” you admitted, and he nodded before disappearing from the doorway. A moment later he returned with a cup of water, and you sat up carefully so as not to wake up Abe. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Henrik answered softly, watching you as you drank with a thoughtful expression. “Dawn is less than two hours away now.”

“Are you going to stay here or go home?” you asked, after nearly draining half the cup in one sip.

“Zhat depends on what you wish to do, I think. I believe you and Marvin would both do well at home, but there are other considerations.” The doctor glanced at Abe, but he said, “I have told Dr. Iplier I will go to zhe hospital today and spend zhe daylight hours there, if you are up to joining me.”

“The hospital? Are you working there today or something?” you asked, and Henrik shook his head.

“No, it is time for my regular check-in, but there is also zhe problem of zhe Institute. Dr. Iplier has agreed to cover for us, should zhey ask about yesterday’s…incident at zhe studio, but only if he has a chance to meet you, again.”

You started to ask, but Abe stirred and asked, his voice slurring a little with sleep, “Wait, what’s happening?”

Clearly you and Henrik hadn’t been as quiet as you had hoped, because Marvin and Jameson were waking up now too.

Henrik sighed and explained, “Dr. Iplier is, rightfully, not big on covering for people he does not know. He is villing to do much based on my word as to Y/N’s character and safety, but he would still like to meet zhem in person and ask a few questions. Since I have to go in anyways today, and Abe and Chase have already made plans…”

“Wait, you have?” you asked, and this time it was Abe’s turn to explain about the call and Chase’s agreement to go in and give a report on what happened at the studio yesterday—or at least his version that covered up the whole werewolf thing. Which brought them around to Abe’s client, or at least the Google that worked for him.

“This little field trip might give us a chance to look into who created those Google units, and who has them now,” Abe said. “The one I met answers to someone who knows way too much about us.”

“Even more now, thanks to you,” Marvin muttered, but while Abe didn’t hear it you could give the magician a look that made him repentant enough to say, “You said one of them’s at the hospital, right? I can go with Y/N and Henrik and…”

He winced as he sat up, a hand going to his head, and the doctor clucked his tongue. “Your body is telling you no on zhat. You vill go home with Jackie when zhey get here and rest, no excuses. We need you back up to stuff, magician, and zhat vill not happen if you are running around willy und nilly.”

“I can go,” Jameson signed. “That is, if you want to go, Y/N.”

You hesitated. Going to a hospital felt risky, even without everything else going on, but Henrik would be there and he had trusted the other doctor enough to bring him in while you were still recovering and stuck as a wolf. And Marvin did have a point about talking to the Google there—maybe he knew something about the others, or you could get a better feel for how these magiteks worked. Using Google’s own rules against him had worked yesterday, after all.

“Yeah, I’ll go,” you said, only to look down at your shirt. While you had healed from the shot without an issue, the same couldn’t be said for your torn and bloody shirt. “I, uh, might need to change first, though.”

“I vill tell Chase to add that to zhe list things to bring,” Henrik said, sounding much more cheerful. “Zhe bathroom is open, if any of you wish to freshen up in zhe meantime.”

Abe frowned, and not just because the doctor seemed to give him a side eye when he said it. He had been okay with going to the Institute with Chase when it seemed like you would be staying here or going home, or at least aware that he would have to keep his distance anyways once that happened, but now that he knew you were going somewhere else he wasn’t so thrilled on his promise to go. Sure, split up and cover more ground, that was great and all, but he hadn’t realized going with you could have been an option. It wasn’t like Chase needed him to be there.

Even knowing there was a chance to find out more about the red-shirted Google, Abe still played with the idea of giving an excuse to go with your group to the hospital. For safety, of course—after all, look how that little field trip to the studio turned out for you.

But it was Marvin who spoke up, while Jameson was out of the room and no doubt waxing his mustache or whatever his morning routine involved and the doctor had taken you to another room for some privacy for another checkup, and muttered, “Wish I was going with you.”

“You mean with them,” Abe said, head tilting in the general direction of the others, but the magician shook his head.

“No, I mean, yes, them too. Just doing something.” Marvin rubbed his face, his fingers disappearing up under his mask before it resettled into place. “What am I supposed to do, sit at home and twiddle my thumbs?”

“…Your magic really is gone?” Abe asked.

“Not gone, just—” Marvin paused, searching for the right words. “Like there’s a—wall, in between me and it, or like…Like breaking your arm, it’s still there, but you can’t use it for anything, you know? No, that’s not really right, but you get the general idea. God, I might as well be totally human.”

“Yeah, I can see how that would be a real shame,” Abe said sarcastically, but the magician just shrugged. Abe found his eyes drawn to that ridiculous cat mask again, and he had to ask, “Your friends know you’re half-fae, right? Not exactly something you can hide for that long, so why are you still wearing the mask?”

“Heh.” The side of Marvin’s mouth twitched upwards and he brushed his hair out of his face before fixing Abe in his gaze. “The eyes of the fae can be…distracting, even if you know what to expect.”

“That, and he’s vain as hell,” Jackie said at the door, looking in with Chase just visible behind him. “Where’s Y/N?”

“Next room over with the doc,” Abe answered, and Chase gave a thumbs-up before disappearing out of sight. “You know, I bet the doctor would be okay with you and Jackie going with Chase instead of me. Not like I have much of a reputation to help whatever tale he’s going to spin them.”

“Yeah, that’s…a bad idea, for many reasons,” Marvin answered, while Jackie shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned up against the doorframe. “I’d rather not attract the Institute’s attention, and Jackie…”

“I’m not going back there unless it’s to burn the place to the ground,” Jackie finished. He drew up his sleeve, revealing a network of scars tracing their way up and out of sight under the rest of his hoodie. “Last time I went into one of their buildings with a couple of hunters, they threw me in with the other guinea pigs to be played with.”

“But you’re human,” Abe said, and then, “Aren’t you?”

Jackie tilted his head and stepped back, out of the room and out of sight, until the prickle of hairs on the back of Abe’s neck made him look over his shoulder just in time to see Jackie step out of his shadow and rest his elbow on the hunter’s shoulder.

“For a certain value of ‘human,’ yes.” It was the movement of Jackie’s eyes returning to their normal grey that alerted Abe to the fact they had just been solid black, like two holes looking into something or somewhere else. “A little less, after they were done with me. Chase is the only reason I ever saw daylight again.”

Jackie’s weight shifted, the elbow on Abe’s shoulder becoming an arm across his chest, pressing him up against the wall as Jackie whispered, “Which is why you’re going to go with him. And you’re going to make sure nothing happens to him. Do you understand?”

Abe grunted, and Jackie relieved the pressure enough for him to mutter, “Didn’t really need the threat. What do you think I am?”

Jackie looked the hunter up and down before meeting his steady gaze with one of his own, his mouth twitching as though fighting back the urge to answer that.

“…I’ll keep an eye on the kid,” Abe said.

Said “kid” had gone to the next exam room and entered to find you lying on the bed while the doctor gently felt around the area where you had been shot yesterday.

“Oh, sorry,” Chase said, immediately starting to back up, but the doctor shook his head.

“Ve are done here, I think. You are sure zhere is no pain, Y/N?”

“Yeah, I…” you sat up slowly, your eyes drifting toward Chase as an all too familiar copper scent hit you. “I’m fine. Chase, are you bleeding?”

“Uh—” Chase sighed and stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. “Yeah, just a scratch from—from yesterday. I was hoping Schneep could take a look?”

“From yesterday?” You immediately thought back to that moment in the elevator, but you didn’t remember any point where Chase could have gotten hurt. That is, until you saw Henrik’s guilty expression and something clicked in the back of your mind. “You drank his blood?”

“I didn’t give him a choice,” Chase answered for him. “It was still the middle of the day, and we couldn’t take you and Marvin home with that hunter and who knows what else hanging around, and I didn’t know how serious your injuries were, so I…”

Henrik heaved a sigh and continued, “So he gives me no time to prepare a better idea. Your cut has started to bleed again?”

Chase nodded and, at the doctor’s gesture, hopped up on the bed to sit next to you and draw up his sleeve. There was a bandage there, already falling off even before the doctor carefully peeled it back to reveal the small cut on his upper arm.

The doctor clicked his tongue and said, “Vampire saliva encourages the bleeding, you see. It is why we try to avoid drinking directly from…donors, or one of zhe many, many reasons. At least you had enough sense not to create zhe cut near an artery or vein, but still.”

“Like I said, I didn’t know how much time we had to work with,” Chase said defensively.

“There is always time to do these things correctly!” Henrik paused and admitted, “Most of zhe time. Zhe effect should wear off on its own, but I have something that may help. Wait just a moment, both of you.”

The doctor walked out of the room, careful to shut the door behind him, and you waited until he was out of earshot before remarking, “You…you really trust him, don’t you?”

“Yeah, of course,” Chase said with a shrug that made you wonder if he really understood what he had done, not just asking but encouraging a vampire to feed on him, with no one else around to step in if the doctor’s worst impulses kicked in and he couldn’t stop himself. “Oh yeah, I picked up some fresh clothes for you while I was at the house. They’re not much to look at, but at least they match a little better than what you have on. Plus, you know, no hole in the middle.”

“…My clothes don’t match?”

“Eh?” Chase shrugged and said, “Maybe we can take you clothes shopping one day, help you pick out some things that are a little more ‘you’ than Jackie’s old hoodies.”

There was a hoodie on top of the pile of clothes, and you could smell Jackie’s scent in the fabric, same as you could tell who the other shirt and pants belonged to. As nice as it would be to have some clothes of your own, you didn’t want to admit to Chase that you kind of liked having that reminder of them with you. Talking about people’s scents felt very much like one of those werewolf things that might make other people feel awkward or uncomfortable.

“What do you normally like to wear?” Chase asked. “Any favorite colors?”

You shrugged, turning over the hoodie in your hands as you said, “I usually had to dress to look the part of an attorney, even on days when I was just in the office.”

And most of your days were spent in the office, when you weren’t in court or doing your own investigations. The few casual outfits you did have back then, you never really had much of a chance to actually wear. As for colors, you weren’t sure how much it mattered when you couldn’t actually see any of them.

Well, most of them. Wilford’s absurd pink mustache being the only exception so far.

“I like these pants though. They’re sturdy,” you said, and Chase immediately glanced at the hole in one of your knees that might have suggested otherwise.

“You mean blue jeans?” Chase asked. “Yeah, I think we can find you some more of those.”

“Wait, these are blue?”

Before Chase could answer that, the doctor walked back into the room, a small bottle and some fresh bandages in hand.

“Found it,” he said, shaking the bottle before applying a small amount of the liquid to a spongy white square. You winced and pulled the collar of your shirt up to your nose to try and block out the sharp, acid-like smell, causing the doctor to pause. “I had hoped you could help me vith this, Y/N, but if zhat would be an issue—”

You shook your head, trying to breathe through your mouth even as you answered, “No, it’s fine, the smell’s just a little strong. What do you want me to do?”

Under the doctor’s directions, you took a wipe and cleared off a large square around the cut on Chase’s arm, causing him to wince even before you applied the foul-smelling medicine to the cut. Henrik caught Chase’s opposite hand as it started to move out of reflex until he relaxed, and then applied a couple strips of tape over the fresh bandages you put on to hold them in place. Once that was done, the doctor immediately took a step back and tucked his hands into the pockets of his white coat, but not before you saw the way they trembled. He probably wasn’t just asking you to handle it because you were already sitting next to Chase.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he said, after clearing his throat. “Zhat should help until zhe cut heals over on its own. Just keep it dry, and no more silly stunts.”

“Now when you say ‘silly,’” Chase started, causing the doctor to snort and walk out of the room. Chase jumped down from the bed and said to you, “You should probably go ahead and change, if you’re really wanting to go to the hospital today.”

You nodded, wondering if you should say something, but instead you asked, “Are you and Abe really going to the Institute today? The one you told me about?”

“Just one of the downtown offices, and maybe that lab if we can swing it,” Chase said, but he avoided looking at you until he added, “I’ll keep an eye on your hunter while we’re out, promise.”

He winked and walked out before you could correct him, leaving you to change and try to turn over what about that wording bothered you the most until it was time to go. The hospital was apparently close enough that Henrik felt confident you, him, and Jameson could walk there before dawn, but Marvin and Jackie insisted on at least driving the three of you there before they returned home, leaving Chase and Abe to take the hunter’s car.

Outside, in the predawn darkness, you wondered what to say to Abe. Any reminder to be careful or that you would see him again felt off, when you had so many other things you wanted to talk to him about. Too much to say or ask about in the little time you had, much less in front of the others.

Instead, it was Abe who pulled you to the side and said, “We’re going to talk about…everything later, yeah? So try to stay out of trouble until then.”

You felt a prickle at the back of your neck at his rough tone and answered, “I’m not the one who’s likely to end up in trouble. You think you can avoid shooting anyone today, hunter?”

“Only if they don’t shoot at me first,” Abe said, relaxing a little when he saw you almost smile at that. That is, until your eyes looked past the hunter and caught what Jameson was signing at you, and embarrassment knocked out every other expression as the others tried not to laugh. “What?”

“Nothing,” you answered a little too quickly. “See you soon, hunter.”

Abe turned and watched you squeeze into the backseat with the others before the car drove off, leaving him behind with Chase. “Are you going to tell me what that was about?”

“Not a chance, hunter,” Chase answered, suppressing a grin as he leaned against Abe’s car. “You ready to go or not?”

“Is anyone even going to be there this early?” Abe asked, causing Chase to raise an eyebrow. Of course, most hunters didn’t exactly work a regular 9 to 5 schedule, and the Institute was hardly any different. But then again, “I know a place we can stop on the way. How do you feel about coffee?”

“I’m listening.”

---

“You still got your collar on you?”

“What?” You had been looking out the back window at the streets passing by, and it took you a second to realize Marvin had turned around in the front seat to look at you. Reluctantly, you pulled the dog collar out of the front pocket of your hoodie and asked, “You mean this?”

Marvin relaxed and said, “Good. Make sure you keep it on you, okay? Schneep, Jameson, you still got your wards?”

Jameson nodded, tapping the brim of his hat and the doctor gave an affirming sound before directing Jackie to the right driveway to the hospital.

“I don’t have to actually wear this thing when I’m human, do I?” you asked.

“Nah, that’s only to get the wolf to pass as a dog,” Marvin answered. “As long as you keep it on or near you, no one should be able to trace you. There’s also some protections against other types of magic in it, but…”

“But they don’t do much against bullets,” you finished for him and Marvin shrugged.

“Can’t plan for everything. Sorry, I had planned on having something else for when you were human again, but that idea’s going to have to wait.” As the car pulled to a stop at the front entrance to the hospital, Marvin added, “Call us, if you don’t want to hang around here all day until nightfall. Just because Schneep has to stay here until then doesn’t mean you and JJ have to.”

“We’ll keep it in mind,” Jameson signed before reaching over and showing you how to unlock the back door. Together, you and Jameson climbed out while the doctor walked around from the other side of the car, and he leaned down so that Jackie could see him add, “Be careful going home!”

“Yes, please do,” Henrik said. “Last zhing we need now is Jackie getting caught driving vithout a license.”

“I’m always careful,” Jackie answered, and Marvin couldn’t hold back a laugh at that. “Look, you all can start criticizing as soon as you learn how to drive yourselves around. Until then, keep it to yourselves.”

The car idled there in the driveway after you all said goodbye, Jackie waiting until your group was through the glass doors before he put the car into drive.

“I thought you said you finished the new ward for Y/N,” Jackie said, breaking the silence of the drive back to the house, and Marvin made a noise but didn’t answer. “Just a few cosmetic tweaks—you don’t need your magic to do that, right?”

“Just considering our options,” Marvin answered, his tone doing more to tell Jackie that he wasn’t in the mood to talk right now.

Not that it kept him from saying, “Well, after this we can keep them home for a while, where it’s safer. At least until you’re back to yourself, and the attention’s off of them.”

Marvin didn’t answer, and when Jackie glanced at him out of the corner of his eye it was difficult to tell, between the darkness in the car and the magician’s mask, if he had even heard him. Jackie’s grip tightened on the steering wheel before he forced himself to relax and let it go. Marvin would share whatever was clearly on his mind when he was ready.

Not that waiting until that happened did anything to ease Jackie’s own suspicions about what was on his mind.

Back at the hospital, you stopped short at the sight of the familiar face behind the front desk and Jameson’s hand quickly found your own.

“Do not worry,” Henrik said under his breath. “Zhis is not zhe same Google you met. I know zhis one, and he is…Vell, he is not friendly, but he hasn’t—hm.”

The doctor paused, considering what he was about to say, before deciding to just go with, “Zhe hospital keeps a very close eye on him.”

“Kind of worrying that they need to keep that close an eye on him,” Jameson suggested, but it wasn’t like there was another option except to go up to the desk where Google looked up from the computer and straightened to face you all in a very mechanical set of movements.

“Welcome to Mercy Green,” Google said, his tone so similar to the other Google that you would have had a hard time telling them apart. Even their scents were very close, although this one had a lingering odor of cleaning fluid hanging around him that you hoped was from keeping the magitek unit clean and not related to any incident in particular. “If this is an emergency, I can direct you to our Emergency Room where trained staff are standing by. Otherwise, do you have an appointment?”

“Dr. Iplier is expecting us,” Henrik answered, but before Google could turn to the computer a voice called from down the hall as the doctor himself approached.

“Henrik, right on time,” Dr. Iplier said, glancing at you and Jameson only to pause, his eyes meeting yours for several seconds before he snapped himself out of it and said to Google, “Just following up on yesterday’s appointment. You know, the one I forgot to tell you about?”

“Yes.” Google’s expression darkened and he said, “You would not have to remember appointments if you told me about them before they happened, doctor.”

“Well, it was a bit of an emergency—”

“Emergencies can be handled by trained staff in our—”

“Yeah, yeah, but I owed a favor and the issue was something I could handle on my own. Right, Henrik?”

“Yes,” Henrik said, slowly as he worked out what the other doctor was doing. “Just a simple bad reaction to a potion. Of zhe transforming kind.”

“…Right.” Dr. Iplier shrugged and said, “I’ve got a room set aside for us already. I think I remembered to put that in the calendar, at least.”

“So you are not completely hopeless,” Google muttered under his breath, and Dr. Iplier started to respond before thinking better of it and motioning for you all to follow him back down the hall.

Once the front desk was out of sight, Jameson asked, “What was that all about?”

“If someone is asking for Dr. Iplier, zhey will most likely check with Google,” Henrik answered. “Such as someone from zhe Institute.”

“And he can tell them I took care of a patient who—an adverse reaction to a potion? Really?” Dr. Iplier asked as he took one turn after another. This place was quickly starting to feel like a maze, with one addition after another having been added on over the years, according to the frequent number of plaques on the walls.

“It vas not my idea,” Henrik answered. “But if they do ask, zhe patient came from zhe TV studio, Dark Entertainment.”

“Easy enough to remember,” Dr. Iplier muttered, and you suddenly remembered what Schneeplestein had said about the studio and the number of injuries there before you went. Now, the only surprising thing about that was the fact the doctor had managed to suppress the urge to say “I told you so.”

The doctor stopped and opened one of the doors to reveal a room a lot like the ones at Henrik’s clinic except more spacious and with more equipment that you weren’t familiar with.

He waited until the door was closed behind you before he said, “You must be Jameson Jackson. Henrik’s told me a lot about you.”

Jameson waved and nodded, although his expression suggested he wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that before Dr. Iplier looked back at you.

“And you must be…doing a lot better than the last time I saw you,” he said.

“Thank you, for the medicine,” you said. “It really helped.”

“Not even a trace of silver burns,” Dr. Iplier said, looking you up and down with a fascination that was almost concerning. “Absolutely incredible.”

Schneeplestein cleared his throat and Dr. Iplier added, “I mean, I’m glad. And curious. Which is why I would like to ask you a few questions, if that’s okay.”

You weren’t sure if he was asking you or Henrik, but you supposed you knew this was coming. Still, you said, “Depends on the question, I guess. And why you want to know.”

“Professional interest?” Dr. Iplier suggested before leaning against the desk along one wall, his fingers tapping on its surface. “We don’t get many werewolves here in the city, or at least not any that I know about, but even outside of our walls there aren’t a whole lot of doctors or healers of any kind who have any experience with them. Which means a lot of our medical literature has just enough to identify the signs of a werewolf bite and infection, and the methods to…ease the patient.”

“A nice drink of medicine and wolfsbane to ease the pain before the mob finds them,” you said sarcastically, but neither doctor tried to correct you. “One problem already: I wasn’t bitten by another werewolf.”

“What?”

“A curse, from the same entity that stole my voice,” Jameson explained, with Henrik translating for the other doctor’s benefit.

“Really?” Dr. Iplier gestured for you all to take seats, but he remained standing even as you reluctantly sat on the edge of yet another exam table. As if to make you feel less alone about that, Jameson decided to hop up next to you and place a comforting hand over yours with a smile. Dr. Iplier glanced at Henrik as he said, “Oh, is that why you were so sure they were safe during the full moon? It’s just a cosmetic transformation?”

Cosmetic. Because yes, transforming into another creature against your will every month was just the same as applying some eyeliner, said a bitter thought inside you that you tried to ignore even as you answered, “No. I’m only safe to be around thanks to a spell that helps me stay in control every full moon. Otherwise, I don’t know what I would do.”

Even with the spell, you could feel how thin the line was sometimes. Like yesterday, when you saw Dark and dropping every attempt at control or calm felt so very worth it.

“Could this spell be used for your traditional werewolf?” Dr. Iplier asked, his hopeful ideas quickly crushed by the shake of Jameson’s head.

“Marvin said the spell takes a very long time to prepare, and it was tailored toward the victim of that particular entity,” Jameson explained, with Henrik again translating. He decided against mentioning that Marvin only had that particular spell ready because he hoped to save someone else that night, or how Marvin had admitted, years later, that he hadn’t even been sure it would work that night, or what he would have done if it had failed. “He’s looked for a way to turn back both of our curses, with no luck.”

“Well, even if they are curses, they have physical effects,” Dr. Iplier said, again drumming his fingers against the desk while he thought out loud. “There’s always the chance that a physical solution can be found to counteract them. Henrik, what kind of tests have you done?”

“I have performed physicals, measuring zheir progress as zhey recover,” Henrik said slowly, as though he already knew where the other doctor was going with this.

“Some blood samples might give us an idea of what we’re dealing with—” Dr. Iplier started, but Henrik quickly cut him off.

“Nein, absolutely not, if zheir blood shows up in zhe system it vill—vhat is it—”

“I know how to keep things under the table,” Dr. Iplier said, looking at you as he added, “It would be perfectly safe, and no one else would have access to the samples—”

“Red flags!” Henrik said, snapping his fingers as he found the phrase. “You would need a lab, and someone to do tests, too many people would ask questions of a doctor doing it himself. Und zhat means more eyes, more hands, more chances of someone else finding out. Out of zhe question.”

“But nobody would look twice at Google doing it, and if I give him the right orders even he won’t know what the results are,” Dr. Iplier answered. “Even if we don’t find anything, wouldn’t it be better to have at least tried? Just trying to keep your head above water is admirable enough, I suppose, but if you just keep paddling in place, you’re never going to reach the shore.”

“Or you might just end up swimming out into the ocean if you go about it wrong,” Jameson signed. He sighed and added, “But we haven’t been able to do much to help you, have we? Maybe letting the docs have a shot at it wouldn’t be such a bad idea.”

The way Dr. Iplier talked, you weren’t sure if he was trying to get an idea for how the whole werewolf thing worked, or if he was actually hoping to find a cure. You hoped for his sake that it was the first, because you had laid aside all hope for a cure a long time ago.

“Just knowing how to cope with…some of this, would be nice,” you said slowly, thinking of yesterday, of all the times you had become overwhelmed by the wolf’s senses of smell and hearing, of how ever since the mirror it just felt easier, being the wolf. But you doubted any kind of tests the doctor could do would help with all of that, which is why you looked at Dr. Schneeplestein and started to ask, “Do you—”

You were interrupted by a knock at the door, which was abruptly opened despite Google’s protest on the other side of, “You are not allowed to access this room without permission.”

“A little late for that,” muttered a man beside him, who pushed up his glasses with a sniff, but both of them were overshadowed by the woman who had opened the door and looked around at all of you before her gaze settled on the two men in white coats.

“Dr. Iplier?” she asked.

“Who the hell are you?” Dr. Iplier answered, stepping forward only to be brought up short by the badges the woman and man showed him. From your vantage point, you couldn’t make out any details, but the general shape of the emblem on them did not match what you remembered of any official police or other government badge. As if to answer your curiosity, Dr. Iplier said, “Great. Bronson Institute investigators. Are they in the schedule, Google?”

“No, they are not,” Google answered, moving his hand towards his glasses in a gesture that just so happened to elbow the man next to him in the ribs. “I would have informed you of a scheduling conflict when you set up this follow-up examination if that were the case. These…people, asked where you were, and proceeded to barge their way here.”

“I’ve never barged anywhere in my life!” protested the man, after rubbing his ribs with a wince and not quite as casually elbowing Google back only to realize why that was a bad idea when the other person had a metal interior.

At his words, a device on his wrist pinged with an irritating noise timed to a flashing light that lasted for three seconds but felt like an eternity to your ears. The woman barely suppressed a smile as she said, “Perhaps some barging was involved, but I assure you that this is an important matter. You received our call about the patient from yesterday, correct?”

“Yes, I did,” Dr. Iplier answered, dragging his eyes away from the device to look back at her. “And I thought I answered all of your questions then. What is this about?”

“We like to be thorough in our investigations, especially when such…delicate matters have become so very public. There’s quite the stir going around, after what supposedly happened outside Dark Entertainment Studios yesterday, and the Institute simply must be sure that we have the heart of the matter before we issue a statement.” She smiled and added, “And your Google was so kind as to inform us that the patient from yesterday is still here.”

“Which one of you is it?” asked the other investigator as he walked into the room and sneered at you and Jameson on the exam table. “And don’t even think about lying! We brought this just so we could be sure we got the truth.”

You glanced down at the device on his wrist, which honestly looked like a wristwatch except one with a blank square screen instead of a clock face. This thing made that irritating noise when it heard lies?

Before you could ask, to stall for time while you thought of a way around it, Jameson immediately waved and pointed at himself.

“You?” the investigator asked, and when Jameson nodded, he scowled and said, “I need you to say it!”

“Jameson can’t speak,” you said. “It’s the effect of a curse, we think. But he does know sign language, if either of you…”

The investigator scowled and looked at his partner, who was sizing up the two of you now with the same intensity that she entered the room with, and she said, “That could work, assuming you know how to ask the right questions.”

“Fine, you translate,” he said, pointing at you before asking, “Were you involved in the incident at Dark Entertainment Studios yesterday, involving a suspected werewolf?”

“I was at the studio yesterday,” Jameson answered, and you translated word for word. “There was an unfortunate incident, yes, but luckily Chase Brody was there to assist, and I and my companions were taken to a doctor he is familiar with.”

“You mean Charles Bronson,” the investigator said as he took meticulous notes in a notepad. “What exactly was he doing there?”

“An interview,” Jameson answered. “About ‘nontraditional’ forms of entertainment, although as I told Jim yesterday, you could make the argument that Chase’s series of stunts for views, as well as his performing feats of gaming and even ‘hanging out’ with his fans could all be—”

Dr. Schneeplestein cleared his throat and Jameson flushed before finishing, “But perhaps this isn’t the place for that conversation.”

“And I’m supposed to believe that you’re an actor?” the investigator asked, and beside you Jameson froze before responding.

“And what, my good sir, is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, Charles said it was some actor who got changed thanks to a stupid stunt, but if you can’t even talk, then how are you supposed to be an actor? Subtitles?”

It was only your fast reflexes that kept Jameson from making his own very nonverbal answer to that, mostly with his fists, and behind the investigator his partner sighed and brushed her forehead with her fingers.

“Harold, what could I possibly have done to have to endure having you here for this?”

“Did you see that?! He tried to attack me!”

“Well, if he had, at least you’re already in a hospital,” she answered. “Dr. Iplier, can you confirm this man’s story?”

“I haven’t seen his work for myself, but I do believe he is an actor.”

Good thing you all were in a hospital, because the investigator looked ready to kill a man before she took a breath and asked, “Was the incident at the studio caused by a failed transformation potion?”

“That is what I was told, yes,” Dr. Iplier said. Of course, he didn’t add who told him that version of events, or whether he believed it. “In such a case, the best course of action is to wait for the effects to run their course, but the patient was under good supervision during that time.”

“Zhe best,” Dr. Schneeplestein muttered under his breath.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Dr. Iplier muttered back, before clearing his throat and saying, “As far as I know, Mr. Jackson’s testimony is entirely honest. And you could put me on the record as saying so.”

Jameson’s testimony, which was so carefully worded to avoid actually saying he was the one who transformed on the street yesterday. You were starting to suspect that device on his wrist wasn’t quite the infallible lie detector Harold seemed to believe it was, although even he looked disappointed when it failed to react at the doctor’s words.

“Tch.” Harold reached into his pocket and pulled out something before tossing it to Jameson with a, “Here, catch.”

Jameson easily caught the coin that flashed in the air between his hands, and opened them to reveal the large, silver coin resting in his palm. He looked from it to the investigator and back again before signing, “Do I get to keep this? Is it my pay for dealing with this nonsense?”

You tried hard not to think about what would have happened if Harold had tossed the coin to you, the burns on your hands worth far more than whatever that lie detector could supposedly tell them.

“I suppose that should settle that, at least,” the other investigator said, while Harold tried to convince Jameson to give him his coin back. Her eyes flickered toward the doctors again as she said, “Very convenient, that Mr. Jackson was still here for this little questioning. Why exactly are you still here, if the potion ran its course?”

The doctors hesitated, but you thought it was your turn to deflect the question by answering, “Dr. Iplier asked if we could come back in, because he wanted to follow up on a few things. Mainly, we’ve just been talking about curses.”

“Right, the curse that took Mr. Jackson’s voice,” she answered, and moved closer to the table. Her hand rested on the padded surface next to you as she leaned in, staring into your eyes with an intensity that was difficult to look away from. “You’re suffering from a curse as well, aren’t you?”

“I—” You swallowed, hard, and caught a brief glimpse of Dr. Schneeplestein on the other side of the room reaching up to tap on the side of his glasses. “Y-yes, I am. My eyes, they were affected by it—I couldn’t even see for a while there, and it’s mostly back but I…I, uh, can’t see most colors still and…”

You trailed off, relieved that the device hadn’t sounded off at that. Your eyes had been affected by the curse, or at least that bit of it that left you so weak to silver.

“Hm. That is interesting. His voice and your eyes…It wasn’t the same curse that caused both, was it?” She said it with a certainty that almost made you think she knew more than she was saying. By this point she was filling most of your vision, to the point that you couldn’t even look away to be sure what Jameson was signing next to you.

“No, I don’t think so. But it was the same…thing that cursed me that took Jameson’s voice.”

You had said it in the hopes it would explain why you were both here, but almost as soon as the words left your mouth you worried that she would ask more questions that you couldn’t answer, because even talking about the entity from the woods felt like it would be straying too close to the real truth. You felt like she had to know more, that she had to know none of you were telling the whole truth.

Part of the reason you were so sure was because there was something eerily familiar about this woman, from the way she commanded attention from the second she entered the room to the look in her eyes whenever she asked a question, like she was looking for more than just what you said next. If you didn’t already know Celine was still there somewhere inside Dark you might have thought…

“You’re not a seer, are you?” you asked, trying to sound like you were joking, and she smiled in a way that somehow made you feel even less certain about what you thought you knew.

“I prefer the title ‘assets manager,’ if I had to choose one,” she said, completely failing to answer your question or give you any other clue what, exactly, that was supposed to mean. The corner of her eyes tightened with a thought and she reached into a pouch on her belt.

You couldn’t help but flinch as she pulled something out and held it toward you, before you realized it was a small business card, very much like the one Bim gave you yesterday.

“Bronson Institute has a department dedicated to researching and treating those dealing with the effects of curses,” she said as you took the card, and presented Jameson with one of his own. “Something to consider, if the good doctors here aren’t able to provide the support you need.”

“Oh, uh, thank you,” you said, Jameson echoing your answer with a sign of his own. “We’ll think about it.”

The device on Harold’s wrist began to beep shrilly at that, causing him to mutter under his breath while he tried to reset it, but the so-called assets manager seemed to suppress a laugh before she responded, “Hang on to the cards, at least. You never know what might make you change your mind.”

You decided to play it safe and not answer this time, and she nodded to you and Jameson before turning to include the doctors as she added, “Thank you for your time, all of you. I think we can safely note for the record that Mr. Jackson here is hardly a werewolf.”

“As of today,” Harold corrected. “We retain any and all right to change our verdict, should future events change that.”

“Of course,” she answered in a flat monotone, showing great restraint not to roll her eyes. “Harold, you can handle the paperwork while I call this in.”

It wasn’t a question, and she walked out of the room without waiting for an answer, leaving Harold to dig around in his bag before presenting the doctor and Jameson with some papers to sign and keep for their records—papers that you insisted on reviewing before either one put down their name, although at least these turned out to be harmless confirmations that they had answered the investigators’ questions in the presence of a “deception detecting device.” That name was about the only thing you would have changed, if only because the thing seemed to have difficulty with anything that wasn’t an outright lie.

All the same, it was a relief when Google finally escorted Harold out of the room, the four of you all exhaling when Dr. Iplier made sure the door was closed and locked behind them this time.

“Vell, at least zhat seems to be behind us now,” Dr. Schneeplestein said, but even from across the room you could see his hands were shaking before he clasped them together. Neither of the investigators seemed to have given him a second thought, but even knowing he has fully registered, being this close to them had shaken him badly.

Badly enough that Dr. Iplier noticed and asked if he had taken his “quota” for the week yet, but Henrik just suggested under his breath that they could talk about it privately, later. At least from that, it sounded like he would tell the other doctor about what happened with Chase, so that was one weight off of your mind.

Only for another to press down again when Dr. Iplier reminded you of the conversation you had been having before the investigators interrupted.

“It’s entirely up to you, of course,” Dr. Iplier added, and you tried hard not to look down at the card in your hand.

Tried not to get your hopes up for anything even as you sighed and said, “I’m willing to try a few tests, if you think it will help. Henrik?”

“…As long as I can keep an eye on zhe process,” Schneeplestein answered, and despite his tone you thought he looked pleased with your answer. “Zhere is nothing to be lost by learning more about your condition, as long as ve keep zhe tests between us.”

Beside you, Jameson tucked his card into a chest pocket and gave you an encouraging thumb’s up, although his smile faded slightly when Dr. Iplier started talking about a few ways to examine his throat as well. It was starting to sound like you both had a long day ahead of you, but if either of the doctors could find something that might help…

After she left the room, the “assets manager” quickly found a quiet alcove in the hospital where she could see anyone coming from either direction at a distance and pulled out her phone. The number she put in wasn’t in her contacts, but one she had long since memorized.

When the other side picked up, she said without any kind of introduction, “The doctor stuck with his story, and they were able to pass the lie detector. Darrensworth is signing off that they’re in the clear now.”

“Really? That must have been an interesting conversation to listen in on. And the silver coin?”

“Doesn’t exactly tell you much if you hand it to the wrong person,” she answered, frowning at the chuckle on the other end of the line. “Say the word, and I’ll bring them in right now. I can think of three ways to walk them out the door without any backup, seven if you don’t mind a couple of casualties.”

“As tempting as that is, I don’t think it’s necessary.”

“What?” She paused long enough to bring her voice back under control before she said, “With all due respect, sir, we are dealing with a highly dangerous creature here.”

“The next full moon is still some time away,” he answered, and before she could point out that an unstable werewolf hardly needed a full moon to cause more than enough damage, he added, “I’m already making arrangements for someone else to collar them and bring them in, when the time’s right. Don’t you worry about a thing. I know this wolf and exactly what it’s capable of.”

She might have had something to say about his patronizing tone, if his words hadn’t summoned a vivid image in her mind that drowned out the voice on the other end telling her to come back, followed by the abrupt silence of the call ending. The phone slipped in the palm of her hand, but it and the hospital around her faded away into the vision.

An alley, and a shadow low and near the ground, nearly invisible in the darkness except for the silver eyes catching and reflecting the distant streetlights and the moonlight overhead, followed by a flash of white as jaws full of gleaming teeth revealed themselves.

A figure, silhouetted against the light of the street.

The beast, springing forward before she hissed, phone clattering against the ground as her fingers pressed against her temples, the vision fading into nothingness.

But not before she heard the gunshot, and the long, desperate cry.

By the time Harold, firmly escorted by Google, found her, she had recovered from her vision and come to the determination that, by the next full moon, you would be safely tucked away in the Institute. If his plan didn’t play out, then she would happily see to it herself. Whether it was by convincing you to come in search of treatment or by more forceful measure remained to be seen, but she would make sure that vision would be one of the many that never came to be.

For your own good, if nothing else.

((End of Part 26. Thank you for reading! No bonus points for guessing who that was on the phone...

And yeah, the “assets manager” is kind of a play on Celine’s character. Mostly because I got to this scene and realized I wanted that kind of character there, and partially because I’m running low on canon characters to shove into this AU. XD I haven’t decided on a name yet, but maybe Emma? Definitely open for suggestions there, and feel free to let me know what you think.

Link to Part 27: A Visit to the Institute.

Tagging: @silver-owl413 @skyewardlight @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate @missksketch @autumnrambles @authorracheljoy @liafoxyfox @hidinginmybochard ))

#markiplier #jacksepticeye #fanfiction #monster hunter au #werewolf au #wkm district attorney #wkm abe #henrik schneeplestein #jameson jackson #dr. iplier #chase brody #marvin the magnificent #jackieboy man #traces of silver #so that vision huh

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