#hopefully i did them justice because i have not drawn them before

[lethality-of-dual-strike]

jorgen and the tooth fairy am i right ;3

[angel-of-the-moons]

Alone Time

Moon Knight System (Marc, Steven, Jake) x Fem! Reader

TW/CW: NSFW, Fluff, smut, oral (m + f! receiving), protected sex, PiV sex, Jake has a certain kink, unprotected sex, every good mama deserves to have a train run on her, body insecurities, affirmations, porn with a big heaping slice of life, could this be considered cucking? Or voyeurism/exhibitionism?, broken condom

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

This fic is connected to "Small Surprises" Pt. 1 and Pt. 2.

A/N: I had to do it lmao.

Taglist: @simp4-fictional-men @autismsupermusicalassassin @princessakirika @mochimoqa @pimosworld

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Your life was a strange one, now. You'd gotten used to the looming, musty-smelling god that lingered in your apartment and spent time with your daughter; you'd gotten so used to having the man--er, men--in your life at your side when you wake up in the morning.

You'd especially gotten attached to their little fishy friends!

But, hey, you wouldn't change it for the world. Hanukkah and Christmas came and went, so did New years. Poor Victoria, she was hiccuping and crying because the fireworks were too loud and terrified her, prompting Jake to immediately cradle her, and even Khonshu moved to slam your windows closed to muffle the sounds. (Although you lectured him about cracking one of the panes in his haste.)

And now, Valentine's Day was coming up, and you weren't entirely sure what to get for your boys.

Victoria, bless her tiny, sweet, adorable little heart, cut out some messy, colorful, and craft-herpes (glitter) covered hearts to each of them, doodling various things each man liked. Steven's heart was brown with gold glitter and had little Egyptian designs scribbled here and there, Marc had a few sports items drawn on his white and blue-glitter heart, Jake had a bright yellow and white heart, a crude scribble of his car drawn on next to his name.

She even made one for Khonshu. It was gaudy. Bright, neon pink, purple and blue glitter all over, and had small drawings of birds on it, with a crescent moon with a smiley face in the middle. His face couldn't emote, but you couldn't help but grin like an idiot (and had to elbow Steven in the gut to keep him quiet) as your innocent daughter handed her little art project to her "Cranky Bird Grandpa 'Shu". You were positive his pride took a blow when he accepted it in front of the two of you, but the way he gingerly held the little gift silently told you that he did, infact, like it.

Why Khonshu's personality seemed to shift around you and Victoria, you were unsure. You'd never asked, and to be honest you kinda didn't wanna know. You just chocked it up to, hopefully, Khonshu realized his existence didn't have to solely revolve around justice and violence. That some of his more forgotten attributes could be indulged in; such as him being a protector and a healer.

One time, Victoria fell and scraped her knee at the park, bawling as blood trickled down her delicate little leg. Before you or Marc could leap to your feet, Khonshu was there (invisible to others, of course) and whispered something to her. She repeated it, and by the time you two got there, Khonshu was gone, disappeared into a puff of mist, and Victoria was no longer injured.

Marc had asked her, worried, about what Khonshu said to her, the moment you got into the car. You were vaguely paying attention, at first, distracted at how his beard had come in, and he'd stopped being so meticulous about his appearance that his usually raven locks and beard (the one Jake insisted they grow out) were peppered with silver.

"What did he say, Vicky?" Marc asked.

"Jus' said that I had to say the words." Victoria answered vaguely, playing with her little scarab plushie in the back seat.

"What words, baby?" Marc asked, feeling a nervous sweat break out on his neck. You had to place your hand on his thigh to snap him back to reality.

"The words!" Victoria said, pursing her cute little face, her nose all scrunched up at his lack of automatically knowing what she meant. "He said, I gotta say the words to ask for help, so he can fix me!"

"...Wait." You turned in your seat to look back at her as you approached a red light, Marc watching her warily through the rear-view.

"Honey, do you mean a prayer?"

"Duh!" She scoffed, like it was obvious. "'Shu used to fix people all the time, he says. But nobody says the words no more so he can't. I had to say em so he could do it!"

You and Marc blink at each other, mulling over what your daughter just told you, a thick silence hanging in the air that was only cut through by her munching on some veggie sticks (all carefully arranged by color, of course. The red ones tasted the best, so they went first!).

"....I forgot he could do that." Marc murmured softly, looking back at the road as the light turned green.

"Yeah!" Victoria peeped. "'Shu says he can't do it no more cause it's hard. It's easier to find bad guys than fix people 'cuz they don't him ask for it no more."

You watch as Marc's jaw tenses and a look of confliction creases his brow.

Living under basically forced servitude tends to blind one to any benevolence their "benefactor" may have possessed at one point.

...And apparently still possessed. He'd never thought--none of them had--to consider that Khonshu never dispatched them to heal anyone, because A.) Nobody prayed to him for that anymore. B.) It wasn't in Moon Knight's abilities to heal anyone. And C.) Evil was just so much easier to root out.

The rest of the ride home was quiet; Marc, Jake, and Steven's headspace abuzz with this revelation.

You, meanwhile, still stressed out over what to get Marc, Steven, and Jake.

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"I still don't trust him." Marc muttered stubbornly.

"I understand why, and you have your rights to." You sigh softly, kneading the muscles in his shoulders. You were sitting behind him on the bed, his legs draped over the edge. "But you have to admit, he's strangely... sweet to Victoria."

"I don't trust it." He huffs again, his eyes closing as your thumbs work a particularly stiff knot between his shoulders.

"I know. But believe me, if he tries anything..." You mutter as your brow creases and you apply just a bit more pressure, earning a groan and a strained chuckle from Marc.

"Shit, I think the old man is more scared of you than what the Ennead might do to him if he fucks with the sky again." He says. "You and that broom."

You grin and press yourself against his back, resting your cheek on his shoulder as you slip your arms around his midsection, feeling the mix of softness and muscle, there.

"Well... me and my broom are fearless companions." You chuckle.

Marc stutters out a short huff as your fingers brush the trail of hair running beneath waistband of his sweatpants. They were doing very little to conceal the growing erection that throbbed against his thigh.

Marc tipped his head and looked at the monitor next to the bed, showing that Victoria was happily snuggled in bed, curled up with her arms squeezing Digger the scarab plush and snoozing peacefully.

Thank god that little girl usually slept like the dead...

"So..." You say, leaning in to nip at his ear as you comb your fingers through his curls, small water droplets clinging to the strands. Your nails scraping against his scalp, he groaned.

"You don't gotta work for the old man tonight." You say, kissing down his neck and to his shoulder, feeling how goosebumps formed beneath your soft lips; your hand slowly sliding up from his happy trail to his chest.

"Ay, hermano, you don't say yes I'll fuck her for you." Jake's voice rang out.

Marc grunted at his unwanted offer and demand; usually when it came to being intimate with you, the two of you worked out a system, setting up times, etcetera. And when spontaneous things like this happened, Jake and Steven would leave you and Marc alone, and the other ways around.

But of course Jake would occasionally peek in to tell Marc different things to do to you to get the best reaction, or hell, sometimes he'd cheer Marc on like a weird perverted, one-man cheerleader.

"Hmmm... Jake?" You chuckle, taking a small bit of his muscle in between your teeth playfully.

"Fuck. Yeah." Marc gasped, your palm sliding slowly back down until it was all the way under his sweats, stroking his throbbing cock leisurely. He could feel Jake linger, just barely... he would be a spectator tonight, it seemed.

"Ah, should've known. Steven's a good boy and tends to leave everyone alone when it comes to one-on-one time." You chuckle, placing a small kiss to your bite mark. They'd be gone by the time he suited up next, but you knew all the boys had preferred little "badges" to wear.

With Marc, he liked your bite marks, your hand occasionally tugging on his hair. With Steven, it was hickeys and lipstick stains. With Jake, it was scratches on his chest and back, maybe a bitten lip.

However you were all careful not to make them too obvious. The one time Victoria brought up a hickey she spotted on Steven's throat, you swore you saw steam puff out of his ears and his brain explode.

"A-A bug bit me, poppet, th-that's all!" He told her.

"Oh! Okay." She replied to him, not questioning it further, content to go back to playing with her dolls. (She had mummified one of them while you two were making lunch, which concerned you because Khonshu helped so it was as frighteningly accurate as it could get on a chunk of plastic...)

Marc groaned and he bucked his hips up into your touch, his hand falling to where he felt yours beneath his pants, encouraging you.

"Damn, baby." He huffed, already feeling beads of precum begin to drop from the tip of his dick.

You tug his head to the side and kiss him hungrily, your lips connecting as your tongues sloppily danced with one another.

"Your mouth?" Marc hissed.

You nod with a hum slipping around him and to your knees on the soft carpet at his feet, your eyes dark and hungry as he lifted his hips, letting your soft, delicate hands pull his sweats all the way down.

"We honestly may as well stop getting dressed right out of the shower." You chuckle, biting your lip as you pump his cock with your hand, your cheek resting on his thick thigh while you give him a teasing look.

You press your thumb against the weeping head of his dick, sighing. "....because either way, one of you boys get wound up and we wind up naked again."

"Can't help it around you." Marc groaned as you ran your tongue up the underside of his length, tracing the pulsing vein there.

"Clothes just fly off on their own when you're around us, baby."

You snort and roll your eyes, giving his tip a little love nip before licking the large drop of sweet-salty fluid off it, and popping it in between your lips and swallowing him down.

"Fuck." He growled as you bobbed your head, sucking tight and hollowing your cheeks while he petted your damp hair shakily.

"So fucking good, baby."

You moan appreciatively, squirming as you feel your panties start to squish, your clit throbbing almost in tune with his pulse as you take him deeper.

You gag a bit when he gets a little overzealous, and he pulls you back, panting and brows pinched up in concern. "Shit, you okay?"

"Yeah, I just need a teeny bit of a warning next time, honey." You giggled before pulling him back into the hot wet cavern of your mouth.

Marc's eyes rolled back in bliss as your tongue stroked him, his lips snagging his teeth beautifully as his eyes drift to the monitor again to check on Victoria.

Dead asleep, but this time with a little foot poking out from her blankets.

He made a soft whine as the plush of your lips squeezed his sensitivity flesh, your teeth grazing just after, providing a singular myriad of sensations.

Gods, your mouth was downright sinful. The first time you gave him a blowjob, he thought he died again, his orgasm slamming into him like a runaway train.

Afterwards, you sheepishly admitted that sometimes, the only way your ex would get intimate with you while you were pregnant was oral, because he said the sight of your stretch marks made him uncomfortable, and he had his concern for "the kid".

Yeah, it was more likely because he was already having sex with your friend on the side by that point.

But with your boys? They loved whatever they could get, and treasured every millisecond of it. Sometimes a little too much; Steven had a habit of cumming before he even properly fucked you, especially while spending time between your legs with his tongue to the point you were worried he smothered between your thighs.

So many times he'd stain the insides of his boxers and pants, just from eating you out.

Marc groaned, his cock jerking in your mouth to signal you he was going to cum; and you hummed around him greedily, sucking harder to milk him of whatever he could give you.

"Fuuuuck--" He breathed hard, the first spurt of cum shooting out and coating your tongue; his taste heavy and thick and oh-so addicting as you happily drank him down, swirling your tongue around as you pulled off.

Marc chuckled breathlessly and collapsed onto the bed, his arm resting over his face, "Shit... I swear you could suck the soul outta one of us."

You slowly crawl up his body, looking down at him as you support yourself with your hands and knees with a cheeky grin. "That good, huh?"

Marc leaned up and kissed you softly on the lips. "That good."

His hands find their way up your thighs to cup your ass, kneading the soft flesh as he bunched your microfiber sleep shorts beneath his fingers. "Now lemme return the favor."

You squeaked and laughed as he flipped you on your back, his hands almost ripping your buttons on your shirt open to get to the skin beneath, licking and placing open mouth kisses as he moved down to your breasts, his tongue flattening over your perked nipples as his hand slides down to your tummy.

You squirmed a bit, you always do when he palms your squishy lower half. After having Victoria, you didn't "bounce back" like those gorgeous mothers online always seemed to. Your belly was stretched, visible purple marks that faded to an almost silvery sheen over time, but you just couldn't lose the weight that came with your pregnancy.

Your ex didn't like your obvious signs of your growing child within your womb, but your boys? Gods, they adored it. Because it was proof you carried that sweet, adorable, curious little girl that you all loved so much; your body keeping her safe and warm until she was ready to greet the world for the first time.

"Baby." Marc said, looking at you, his dark eyes soft and loving as his flattened his calloused palm over your squishy tummy.

"C'mon... I know that look."

"I... I can't help it." You mumble as he plants feather-soft kisses over your eyelids.

"You need to stay off those mom forums." He joked. "They're full of photoshopped women, or women who can afford surgery to hide a previous pregnancy."

"I know..."

Marc leaned down, kissing his way down your tummy, planting more and more kisses over each and every stretch mark, until his lips reached the waistband of your shorts.

"You're fucking gorgeous, baby. Every scar and bit of baby fat included."

His fingers tapped your hips and you lifted them so he could all but rip them down your legs, practically licking his chops as his eyes landed on your soaked and puffy folds, a soft patch of hair on your mons.

He kissed his way down, further, his thumb spreading your lips and labia, smearing your slick around as his lips formed an "o" around your clit.

You moaned deeply, hand tangling in his mass of untamed curls as his fingers toy with your entrance; tracing it but not sliding inside.

"Marc!" You bucked impatiently.

"So greedy." He chuckled, the vibrations from his voice sending jolts through your clit, making you jump and yelp.

The way his beard tickled and scraped your cunt and thighs had your head swimming, your slick soaking the salt and pepper hairs on his face.

When his fingers finally plunged in, your toes curled and your hands gripped your blankets tight.

"Marc." You mewled.

Marc used his thumb to pull the hood of your clit back as his index and middle fingers curled inside your tight, gummy walls; giving his tongue unfettered access to wrap around the sensitive nub.

You hips tilted and your back arched, and you had to bite down on your lip to stifle the cries that wanted to come from your mouth. Your clit was sensitive, it always was; but god forbid your baby daddy ever give a fuck about that.

Marc and the boys? Oh, they loved to abuse that knowledge every time you two were intimate. Especially when they were using their mouths on you.

"Shit, we need to find a babysitter Vicky's comfortable with." Marc growled in between open mouth kisses to your sweet lips, his fingers curling in the most devilish way.

"Wanna hear how loud we can get ya."

You hiccuped softly in an effort to control your breathing and stuttering voice as your orgasm started to creep up on you. All you could do was blabber out a short "yes" when Marc nipped at your clit again, pressing his fingers up at juuuuust the right angle, sending your eyes rolling so far back into your head you swore you could probably see your own brain for a split second as those wonderful waves of ecstasy beat away at the shores of your sanity.

Marc continued to thrust and curl his fingers, slowing down to stretch out your orgasm until you were ready, your poor hungry hole fluttering and clenching around his digits for more.

Marc, the cheeky little shit, made a lewd display of licking his fingers clean, spreading them into a wide "v" as he wrapped his tongue around each one, licking you completely clean.

You growled playfully and pulled him down to you, slipping your tongue past his lips, tasting a little of yourself in his mouth as your kiss turned sloppy and very messy; his beard soaked all the way through from how much you had gushed onto his tongue and mouth.

When you parted (because your brains finally told you that you needed oxygen to keep living) you were both flushed and hungry for more, and Marc reached down, squeezing your baby fat softly.

"All this is ours, and we aren't trading it for anything."

And damn, did he spend the rest of the night proving it to you.

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"Aunt Layla!" Victoria squealed, running and practically leaping into the woman's arms.

"'Tawar." She giggled, waving excitedly at the hippo-woman trailing just behind.

Layla laughed loudly and you grinned as she and your daughter brushed noses. It was weird, at first, meeting Marc's ex-wife (and Steven's ex-girlfriend) but you were happy they were still on friendly terms, friendly enough, that Layla wanted to meet you and your little girl.

Victoria latched onto her immediately, the moment she sat down in your living room, the curious girl pattered up to her after waking up from her nap, still drowsy as she clambered onto the sofa, and curled up in Layla's nap, resting her head on her chest.

It was so cute you almost started crying. Even the goddess, Taweret, squealed and wiggled her feet at the sight. Given she was the goddess of mothers, children, and other related things, it made sense that she adored your daughter (like Khonshu, but the old pigeon would never admit to it.)

Taweret tagged along on most visits because she wanted to meet the woman and child responsible for gaining so much trust and love from the boys to ease their pain and loneliness. She also just wanted to meet your daughter because, c'mon. Victoria was adorable and everyone so far loved her. Even the "bloody old pigeon" as she and Steven were so fond of calling Khonshu.

Layla settled and hefted your child onto her hips, walking over to give you a side hug and you two exchanged cheek kisses in greeting.

"Hey, love!" Layla said to you both. "How have things been!"

"Oh, wonderful. Victoria's started reading multi-chapter books already." You sigh, smiling in wonder at your daughter.

Victoria giggled bashfully and started rubbing her cheek onto Layla's, reaching out to touch Taweret's outstretched palm.

"Really? So soon?" Layla blinked in amazement.

"Yeah, the doctor said it's not entirely uncommon that some autistic children develop certain skills quicker. She's already reading some of Steven's textbooks to him!" You reply.

"Damn, give her a few weeks and I'd wager this little ankle-nipper will be able to put any of those scholars at the museum to shame." She snorted.

"Steven said the same thing." You chuckled. "Even joked that they could probably go into Uni together."

"Oh gods, that's cute." Layla giggled as Victoria dug her fingers into her curly hair to play with the silky mass.

"Steven had a meeting at the museum today, he'll feel so sad for not saying bye." You say wistfully.

"Eh, it's one night. He will survive." Layla scoffed playfully.

"...Thank you so much for agreeing to take her." You sighed at her.

"Hey, hey, no problem. It's Valentine's and you two have been so wound up lately you need some alone time." She winked at you not-so-subtly.

You blushed a bit at her implication and laughed nervously as you reached for Victoria's overnight bag.

"Oh--her favorite blanket and toys are in there. Her shampoo, toothbrush, toothpaste, Digger is in there, too, because you know how she gets without him--"

"Relax, I know this'll be her first time away from you." Layla smiled warmly. "But she'll be fine. The hotel is just a block away, and plus, nothing will happen to her. Not with a goddess and her Avatar looking out for her, eh?"

Your shoulders dropped with a heavy sigh. "Yeah... Yeah, you're right. It's just..."

"No, no I get it." Layla's eyes twinkled. "...So how many squishmallow things has Steven and Victoria accumulated?"

You laugh out loud and point behind her, the corner of your living room where you'd had your Christmas tree was now stacked with several plushies, mostly squishmallows of various kinds, including a very large pineapple named "Maui" that Steven and Victoria loved curling up against to read together.

Layla snorted when she looked, shaking her head. "Well, could collect worse things, I s'pose."

"Like taxidermied bugs and animals?" You joke.

"Oh that's a horrible thought!" She grinned.

"Yeah, well, like you said..."

Layla laughed again and moved so Victoria could lean up to you and rub noses, and you could pepper her soft little face with plenty of kisses.

"Be good for your Aunt Layla and Taweret, okay?" You ask her gently.

"I will, mommy!" Victoria chirped, rubbing her face onto yours lovingly, breathing in your perfume.

You waved as they all left, feeling almost bereft and out of place in your suddenly too quiet flat.

You decided, after a few moments of nervous lip chewing, to walk back to your bedroom.

You walked to your closet and moved aside an old suitcase, revealing a long black box wrapped in hot pink ribbons.

After that night with Marc, something clicked inside your brain and you knew what to get for the boys.

Or rather, what to get yourself for the boys.

You set the box on the bed and looked at the article of "clothing" sitting inside the box. You'd ordered this set of lingerie after Jake and Victoria snuggled on the couch after watching Zootopia together.

You made sure to have it delivered "accidentally" to your neighbor's flat, and she handed it over to you like you two were smuggling contraband into a prison.

After all, you didn't want the boys to find your surprise, now did you?

It took a bit, but you'd stripped down and hastily pulled on your new set. All straps, the fabric was easy on your hands, so you knew Steven wouldn't be overwhelmed by the texture when he touched you.

And boy... would he want to touch you.

The straps covered up nothing and so much at the same time, leaving nothing to the imagination while still, leaving so much.

Looking into the mirror, you swallowed thickly. It looked nothing like it did on the models on the site. Where they had flat, toned bodies and perfect figures...

You had soft, rounded out features, stretch marks and of course, the baby fat.

You chewed your bottom lip hesitantly, your first instinct to take it all off and shove it back into he closet when you saw what you didn't like.

But... you knew that Marc, Jake, and Steven loved you. And that they would go feral if they saw you in it.

For added measure, you slid on the sheer, white stockings up to your thighs, the soft material squishing the plushest parts of your legs.

You had to shove the second one up hastily when you heard the front door unlock, and Steven's voice.

"Ey, love?" Steven called out.

"Uh--egh--fuck--hold on a minute!" You say, scrambling for your fluffy bathrobe. It concealed enough that they wouldn't see much... save for if they looked at your feet.

Steven had walked into the bedroom just barely after you'd tossed the box back into the closet and the door clicked shut, you awkwardly smiling and standing with your hands clasped in front of you.

"Heeeyyy... You!" You tried pitifully.

A thick brow raised behind those dark-rimmed glasses of his. Gods, he looked gorgeous. Dressed in a nice smooth button-up, his blazer buttoned halfway up and his curls falling into his face? His sweet, boyish curiosity had you already blushing.

He looked every bit like the kind of professor many college students would fantasize about taking "extra credit" with...

"What's got you in a tizzy?" Steven chuckled, walking over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist to kiss the tip of your nose.

"Oh uhm.... Ah." You squirm, giggling at his kisses.

"Is it because Victoria is out?" He asked, tilting his head to the side like a curious pup.

"Well, uh, eh... Uhm." You cough awkwardly. Oh, this was a horrible idea. So stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

"Oh! Actually, hold that bubble." Steven chirped, fishing out a small paper bag out of his back pocket.

Inside the bag, was a small box. A jewelry box.

Your hand goes to your mouth as he opens it up and grins sheepishly. "Took us forever to agree on something. Marc was being a real bellend about it, y'know?"

He frowns over at your mirror, his brows creasing as he scowls at his reflection.

"What! You were!" He snapped.

Inside the box was a silver pendant, cut in the shape of the crescent moon, with engraving on it.

"We love you, to the moon and back."

"A bit cheesey, innit?" He mumbled, pulling at his sleeves as his hands darted all over your face, his teeth snagging his lip.

You honestly felt like tearing up. It was so... so cheesey, and so romantic. Very much a Steven thing to do. But you could tell even Marc and Jake had a hand in it, too. It was a united effort.

"Steven...." You begin, lifting your eyes to lock with his doe-like brown ones.

He tosses a nervous, awkward smile.

"I love it. It's gorgeous." You say, your thumb brushing over the shiny material.

"Let me put it on you?" Steven asked you hesitantly, as if worried you'd say no.

"Sure." You smile warmly at him, noticing how his demeanor lights up and he cheerfully brings the chain around your neck as he moves to stand behind you, carefully locking the clasp so the moon hung just beneath your collarbone.

You hear Steven go "huh" under his breath as his fingers brush beneath your bathrobe, touching the straps of the lingerie you were concealing.

"What's this, love?" He asked you, and you jolted slightly.

Oh, shit. Right. The lingerie. You'd almost forgotten it!

"Uh.... It's.... Eh...." You stammer out awkwardly, stepping away to fiddle with the sash of your robe.

Steven watches, curiously and patiently waiting for you to speak, his head tilted to the side.

"So, I've been trying to figure out what to get you guys for Valentine's day, y'know? I was stumped, trying to think on what I could do, so... I... Um."

You looked at Steven, his curls flopped over his head, his tongue darting out to lick at his lips as he nods, urging you on.

'Damn it, now or never...'

Your fingers undo the knot of the robe and let the fluffy material slip down to hang from your forearms, your face erupting in a heated flush as you feel his eyes rake slowly up and down your body and hear him gasp just barely audibly.

"Oh, love." He breathed. "You... That looks--"

He snapped his head to the mirror, his face scarlet red. "Sh-shut it! I was--no! You just shut it!"

You watch as he looks at you again, bashfully as your eyes reconnect. He rubbed the back of his head and said sheepishly, "S-Sorry.... Jake just won't... Stop being Jake right now."

"Oh..." You reply, licking your plush lips anxiously as Steven walks closer to you, his hand reaching out to brush the various straps, moving to delicately cup one breast, his thumb brushing over the strap that covered your nipple as he continued to look at you and that silver pendant that hung from your neck.

You really completed a gorgeous image; like a swan perched elegantly on a lake's smooth surface.

Sometimes, Steven felt like a clumsy and loud goose next to you. He knew it was a poor comparison, that you would never look at him or Jake or Marc that way, but he had his own insecurities as much as you did...

"Do... you like it?" You ask slowly as his other hand, warm and more than a little sweaty rests on your hip.

"We love it." He replied, leaning in to kiss you softly on the lips. As he pulled away, you noticed his dark eyes become almost smoky--heavy.

"We.... Wouldn't mind seeing this on you more often."

"Well... Hm." You say, feeling his hands encircle you, moving down to cup your ass as his mouth kissed your jaw.

His calloused fingers squished and rolled your cheeks beneath his palms, pulling you closer to his own body, allowing to feel his hardening cock press against your thigh while his knee parted your legs and your back connected with the cold plaster of your bedroom wall.

The chill made your nipples harden, poking through the fabric of your lingerie and you yelped at the sensation.

"Hell.... You 'right, love?" Steven asked, his curls falling over his forehead as he looked at you with wide eyes.

"Yeah." You chuckle, goosebumps erupting on your body. "The wall's a little cold."

"Oh...." Steven says, his lips brushing your ear.

"Then... we best move to the bed, yeah?"

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You were positive there were going to be bruises on your hips from how desperately Steven had gripped them, rabbiting into you, his cock sliding in and out of you effortlessly, the sound of slapping skin sinfully loud inside your bedroom.

"S-Steven!" You squeaked, your poor cunt abused and sensitive as he fucked you, the texture of the condom he wore sending little shocks through your body with each drag of his hips.

You had already cum--twice--once from Steven's hands and mouth, and once more from how he'd fucked into you.

Steven had cum while his face was buried between your legs, rutting his clothed hips hard against your mattress as you squirmed and writhed against him. The way he looked when he pulled back, lips swollen, face flushed; his beard wet from your juices, his hair tousled and hanging over his brow. He looked utterly fucked out and he hadn't even been inside of you yet.

"....k-know, love." Steven whimpered, rutting into you a bit more, practically bent in half over you as he kneeled between your legs, his cock angled at an eye-rolling tilt so it slammed once more against your g-spot.

"Almost--almost--" He panted hard, his grip on your hips slipping a little because of how sweaty you both were, so instead he hooked his hands through the straps that still adorned you and used them for leverage as he relentlessly pounded into you.

You dug your nails into his shoulders as you pulled him down, mouthing at the apple of his throat as it bobbed, tasting the thin layer of sweat that dewed his skin, sucking a bruise onto the skin, there.

"L-Love!" Steven whimpered, his pace stuttering as you feel him twitch inside of you, the condom beginning to swell a bit as he pumped his load into the safe cocoon of latex.

His hips slowed into languid rolls, prolonging his orgasm just by a tiny bit as he came down from his high.

You kissed his temple softly, petting his sweat-damp curls as his breathing began to even out. You feel him slump against against you and his arms lock.

You feel a shuddered breath escape him before his breathing finally became steady.

"Steven?" You ask him softly, running your fingers through his hair again.

He lifted back and supported himself on his forearms, looking down at you with a grin, his eyes twinkling.

"Think again, cariño."

"Jake." You breathed, already feeling a thrill creep up your spine as his lips traced your jawline.

"Steven got to have you all dressed up," His fingers playfully snapped one of the straps on you, making you squeak softly. "Now it's my turn. Can't let such a nice, pretty present go unwrapped."

"Oh.... So you're gonna take it off me, now?" You asked, shuddering as he pulled out, still rock hard.

"Nah." His hands went to your hips and with a jerk, flipped you onto your belly, pulling your ass up, his hand kneading the soft flesh as he looked down at you.

He moved the panties to the side to see your red, puffy cunt. "Coño más bonita que he visto."

He didn't change the condom; instead, he pushed right back into your pussy, groaning deep in his chest as he felt your heat grip and squeeze him invitingly.

"Nice..." Jake hissed through his teeth, pulling back slowly before sinking back in, relishing in how your body so eagerly welcomed him back inside of you; your thighs glistening so beautifully, wetting his own, dripping down his shaft to coat his balls as he started fucking you into a steady rhythm.

He winced himself, feeling tense as the body had cum while Steven was in control, so his nerves were still highly sensitive to everything right now. He wasn't going to last long, he knew and it frustrated him. He made a mental note to remind the other two to leave him alone with you for a day or so at some point, wanting to be able to ravish and ravage you properly.

He leaned over, kissing the skin between your shoulder blades as he muttered against you.

"Touch yourself for me, mamí. Want to feel you choke my cock." Jake rasped.

You moan weakly, complying with his request as your fingers slide down beneath you, grazing circles over your engorged clit, choked-out whimpers coming from you as Jake began thrusting into you hard and rough, his skin slapping you so hard you thought there would be red marks from the sheer ferocity of it.

"Oh, god--Jake--" You wail into the pillow, your fingers swiping and circling more and more, trying desperately to match his pace as your squishy, wet walls crushed his cock beneath their fluttering onslaught.

He growled and fisted a large bit of the straps in one hand, pulling your ass back against him, watching as your skin rippled and jiggled with every slap as he fucked into you over and over.

"Fuck, yes. Just. Like. That." He hissed, each word punctuated by a slam of his hips into yours.

You could feel another orgasm just about to burst, your head swimming in that blissful haze as Jake plowed into you at a bruising, aching pace.

"Such a gorgeous mamí." Jake said to you, his voice was heady with arousal.

"So fucking pretty, such a good fucking mamí. Sabes lo bonita que eres, ¿no?"

Your mind was turned to mush as your orgasm washed over you, filling every pore with a dizzying pleasure, rendering you barely aware of what he was saying, let alone to translate it as his hips snapped into you one final time.

However... You felt a new sensation inside of you, and with a few jagged, harsh thrusts, you felt Jake cum inside of you, flooding your deepest reaches with his thick load, making your eyes snap open.

"Shit." He groaned, pulling out of you, watching as the ripped condom clung to his cock, a thick ring of white at the base as he ran a shaky hand through his hair.

"Well, now. This is a pickle." He laughed.

"Jake, you--you know that--" You sputter, groaning as you roll over to look at him.

The bastard didn't seem upset in the slightest; that cheeky little shit!

"Yeah, yeah, mamí." Jake smirked at you as he pulled the ruined condom off of his cock as he caressed one of your spread thighs idly.

"Then why aren't you--FUCK!" You wail, feeling him bottom back out in one deep thrust, your nails scraping his skin at the blinding sensation.

Jake grinned as he nipped at your throat, "Baby, whatever happens, we aren't going anywhere. Even if that means I stuff you so full--or Steven or Marc--that your belly gets all cute and round."

You whimpered and gripped at the meat of his shoulders as he started fucking into you again, blood once more rushing straight through his dick, renewing him with more energy and drive.

"I think Vicky would love a baby brother or sister, no?" He muttered out, his tongue dragging over your fluttering pulse as it hammered against your skin. "So... Why don't we give 'er one?"

"D-did y-you even a-ask M-Marc or St-Steven?!" You cried, bouncing and pushing against your pillows and blankets as he fucked you.

"Don't have to... They've fantasized about it enough already." He laughed.

His lips kiss and glide over your skin as he rips the upper part of your ensemble down, freeing your breasts to bounce free from their strappy confines as Jake whispers in your ear.

"And believe me... Marc definitely wants to fill you up, now, bebita."

[avoicebehindthestars]

Why 90 minutes are not enough

As a hyperfixated fan, I will never believe 90 minutes will do Good Omens 3 justice.

The Second Coming storyline was intended as something of similar complexity to the Armageddon - and that took 5 hour-long episodes to tell. People who claim that many good films only take 90 minutes should consider that those production were always intended to last 90 minutes - that's the way they were plotted. Frankly, I can't think of a single satisfactory book-to-screen adaptation that would fit into this time restriction. Other STP books adaptations (Colour of Magic, Hogfather, Going Postal) are over 3hr long each. Stardust is over 2hr, and has a much simpler plot.

Added to that is the entire Aziracrow storyline that - let's be fair - is the main thing we all want to see done well. I'm afraid I'm not in the "just kiss and fuck off to South Downs" camp. That ending never held much meaning for me, because we all know how it ends. What I cared for was the path there - healing the heartbreak, becoming an "us". A simple apology dance, or "whatever let's just stop the world from ending" won't cut it. They're lovestory has so far been told through the fluffy, casual, seemingly unimportant details. The kiss isn't evidence of their love. It's the "don't go unscrewing the cap", "three tones of voice", "our car/our bookshop", it's the way Aziraphale's hand remains upright when Crowley's almost wraps over it, or how Crowley gives up the whole argument the moment he learns Aziraphale might be in danger. And through the flashbacks and minisodes now almost certainly lost.

And then there's the whole intellectual side of Good Omens. The show is often praised for being a wonderful queer representation, but not enough is said about it being autistic representation. Most ethereal and occult characters on GO are autistic-coded, but contrary to such productions as House MD, Sherlock, or Atypical, the plot doesn't revolve around them being ND. Instead, we, the neurodivergent recognise ourselves in tiny details - when Shax suddenly asks about hot water, when Muriel doesn't realise the Metatron has just offended them. But that isn't all. We, the ND people are drawn to the whole meta side of the show. The tarot card parallels, the mirror structure, the bloody camera filters! We are treated while being represented - this show is about us and for us. Have you read any of the mindblowing metas on tumblr…? Many people say that Good Omens is full of fillers that are easily omitted, but those parts are simply the ones whose significance the less invested audience didn't recognise.

Nothing of that will be left in 90 minutes. It can be a pleasant experience, an entertaining narrative of stopping the end of the world with, hopefully, a few sweet moments stolen away by Aziraphale and Crowley. And that's all. No nuance or riddles to be tracked over the next years, no grandeur of an epic story told with patience and no compromise. No narrative legacy to leave a mark in contemporary storytelling, the way season 1 did. No satisfying return on everything season 2 discreetly hinted (and how ridiculous that what was basically a backdoor prologue to the final arc will now be 3 times longer than the story itself!). And, above all, no carefully planned and slowly delivered healing.

Just. A 1.5h fantasy comedy to consume on a winter evening before moving on when they're gone forever.

[miss-hyoko]

Um, can i have a gado-gado of Malleus, Vil, and Floyd with an S/O who is suffering from Alexithymia?

I would love to see these three's ways of handling this S/O! GN reader please!

"My sincerest apologies for the delay, valued customer. Here is your much-awaited order—a delightful serving of [Embracing Emotions] gado-gado. We hope its flavors tantalize your taste buds and bring you utmost satisfaction. Bon appétit!"

Embracing Emotions

Character(s): Floyd, Vil, and Malleus

Summary: His S/O had Alexithymia

Tag(s) and warning(s): GN!Reader, fluff, romantic, established relationship, doting boyfriend

Note: This request took quite a while to finish because I need to do some research about Alexithymia first. Hopefully, I did them justice in this. If there's anything wrong, please feel free to point them out 🙌

1. Floyd Leech

Floyd's interest in you started in a rather peculiar way. It was one of those days when he was feeling particularly grumpy, and in his foul mood, you accidentally bumped into him. Irritated, Floyd decided to give you a little scare by squeezing you. To his surprise, instead of screaming in fear or struggling to free yourself, you simply stared at him, dumbfounded and unsure of what to do. Your unexpected response intrigued Floyd, so he started relentlessly pestering you. Looking back now, maybe it was 'Love at First Squeeze'.

As Floyd's relationship with you progressed further, he started noticing something in your way of communication that he hadn't paid much attention to before. Whenever someone asked for your opinion, you seemed to falter, struggling to find the right words to express yourself. Even when you did respond, your responses often came across as general or vague, leaving Floyd with a sense that you had difficulty expressing your feelings.

True to his straightforward nature, Floyd wasted no time addressing the communication struggles he observed in your relationship. When he learned about your Alexithymia, everything finally clicked into place. While it did initially surprise him, Floyd wasn't bothered by your condition in the slightest since he can understand you quite well. However, if you wish to improve your condition, perhaps you can consider seeking Azul's help? ... Just kidding! Floyd wouldn't mind wracking his brain to figure out a way for you.

When Floyd's with you, he becomes more talkative and loves asking about your feelings whenever you're doing something together. In case you're uncertain about how to respond, Floyd will give you a variety of word options to help you describe how you feel, helping you navigate the complexities of expressing your feelings.

Floyd: *squeezing you* "Guppy~ What do you feel when I do this to you?"

His S/O: "I... I don't know."

Floyd: "Wrongg~ Try again, Guppy. What do you feel if I'm squeezing you like this?" *squeezing you tighter* "Do you feel unhappy, scared, surprised, or maybe happy?"

His S/O: "I..."

Whenever you expressed a specific feeling, he would eagerly ask you to recall and describe the physical and mental sensations associated with it. Floyd thinks that by remembering and articulating the feelings you experienced, it can be used as references to help you better identify and communicate your emotions in the future.

2. Vil Schoenheit

Vil was initially drawn to you because you had this kind of aloof aura surrounding you, creating an air of mystery and making you seem unapproachable. But, as he got to know you better, Vil realized that your aloofness wasn't intentional but rather a result of your struggle to express your emotions verbally. This led Vil to speculate that you might have Alexithymia.

At the beginning, Vil found your emotional detachment and difficulty in expressing emotions frustrating. He struggled to comprehend why you couldn't verbalize your feelings like others could. However, upon entering a relationship with you, Vil realized the need to shift his perspective. He took the initiative to research and learn more about Alexithymia by seeking articles, books, and personal accounts to deepen his understanding of your condition. Through this newfound knowledge, Vil gradually adapted his mindset and approach, becoming more patient, empathetic, and supportive

Known for his sharp tongue and sarcastic remark, Vil's way of speaking leaves an impression on those who encounter him. Yet, when he engages in conversation with you, Vil speaks with unparalleled patience that surprises those who witness it. It's as if he channels all of his patience and understanding exclusively for you. Vil understands the importance of clear and honest communication between the two of you, so he chooses to speak bluntly and directly, without any codes or sarcasm that could potentially misinterpret the meaning of his words.

Vil consistently encourages you to work on enhancing your ability to identify and express your emotions. When he's not busy, he'll invite you to watch movies together to aid your emotional understanding. During these movie sessions, Vil attentively guides you through the film by highlighting every emotion portrayed by the actors. He will tell you the emotion's name, the reasons behind its occurrence, how it is expressed, the accompanying experiences, and much more.

Vil: "The girl is disappointed because she got a poor grade on the test and has to take extra classes during the vacation."

His S/O: "Disappointed?"

Vil: "That's right, potato. Disappointed. It's the feeling you experience when something doesn't go according to what you wanted. You know, like when you had plans to go out but suddenly there's a storm. You would feel lost, wouldn't you? That's called disappointment."

When it comes to grappling with your emotions, Vil is a reliable source of guidance since he's an experienced actor well-versed in a wide array of emotions. He can suggest you various strategies you can try to help you navigate through your feelings, such as engaging in open discussions with trusted individuals, writing down what you feel on paper, or perhaps immersing yourself in music that resonates with your emotions.

3. Malleus Draconia

From the very beginning, Malleus already sensed that there was something unusual about you. Your seemingly apathetic demeanor and rare displays of emotions piqued his curiosity. Malleus assumed you were simply incredibly calm and collected, so he kept his observations to himself, choosing not to prod further. It wasn't until you both became a couple that you opened up to Malleus about your Alexithymia, leading him to finally understand the reasons behind your actions all this time.

Understanding the impact that Alexithymia can have on your interactions and personal life, Malleus becomes deeply concerned about how society might treat you for being different. With firsthand knowledge of the pain of being treated differently, he empathizes with your potential struggles and is determined to shield you from similar treatment. To ensure your well-being and happiness, Malleus spares no effort to help you understand your emotions, going as far as seeking guidance from Lilia.

Malleus is an incredibly supportive boyfriend. He actively encourages you to share as much as you can about your Alexithymia, attentively listening to every detail so he can help you cope with your condition. If you ever expressed a desire to explore methods that could improve your communication skill or expand your emotional range, Malleus would be more than willing to assist you in exploring the complexities of emotions. However, he also respects your boundaries and never pushes you beyond what you're comfortable with, allowing you to progress at your own pace.

Following Lilia's advice, Malleus begins closely observing your facial expressions and body language to determine the emotions you might be feeling. If you find yourself overwhelmed by intense emotions that you struggle to comprehend, he won't immediately validate your feelings. Instead, he gently shares his perception of the emotion he believes you might be experiencing to help you clarify your emotions and work through them.

Malleus: "The final exams are just a week away. Have you prepared yourself well, beloved?"

His S/O: "In the past few days, I've been preparing by reviewing the previous lessons."

Malleus: "That is good. But why do you still look anxious?"

His S/O: "No, I don't feel anxious. That word is a bit too much for..." *pauses to think for a moment* "Rather than anxious, I think I'm just nervous..."

Malleus: *smiling softly* "Is that so?"

This fae prince CAN and WON'T hesitate to go the extra mile to create a special notebook specifically for you. Inside this personalized notebook, he compiles an extensive list of various emotions, complete with the characteristics people feel when experiencing them and numerous example situations that might evoke these emotions. Additionally, Malleus even goes as far as filling the notebook with simple illustrations that he drew himself just to make sure the process of identifying emotions is easier for you.

[lilithofpenandbook]

Do you think Severus saw Dumbledore as the father he never had? I feel like, all the time they worked together and how Dumbledore trusted Severus more than anyone, Severus had to develop a close relationship with him. Dumbledore told Severus he is so lucky to have him and that he is a very brave man. I mean you can tell that having to kill him, I mean it broke him internally. I feel like they went from uneasy allies at first, to close friends, to basically being like a father and son. I betcha when Severus died, besides reuniting and finally having Lily’s forgiveness, Dumbledore was also there to tell Severus how proud he is of him and that he was the bravest man of them all

Oh, absolutely! I live for the father/son dynamic Dumbledore and Severus have.

Their very story reads like that of a father and his estranged son to me. At the start, Severus was let down by Dumbledore his entire school life, especially when it came to the infamous werewolf 'prank' (which I won't call a prank, it's more of a nasty trick). Snape was so clearly the victim yet he was the one silenced and I can imagine that James and Sirius got away with minimal punishment (Remus, in this at least, was innocent) too despite how horrific their actions were. James, at least, got 'cold feet' and saved Severus but Sirius, even in adulthood, has no remorse for any of it. They geniunely deserved severe punishment for it, and while I cannot remember if any consequences were mentioned, I wouldn't be surprised if there weren't any and I wouldn't even fault Dumbledore for that. His main goal was to protect Remus and allow him to experience a normal youth and Remus was entirely innocent in this situation. Punishing Sirius and James to the exent they deserved would have drawn attention to the situation- the punishment would not be a secret, but the cause would be, and it could have led to far worse outcomes. Honestly, Sirius's stunt put Dumbledore in an impossible situation, and Dumbledore took the path which could hopefully minimise damage. Better to have a child resentful and bitter, than a child potentially executed, after all. Yet to poor Severus, what did it look like other than the headmaster playing favourites? The fact that the Mauraders happened to be Gryffindors would not have helped either. It's much like watching a father favour the sons that resemble him over his quieter, less masculine one, regardless of justice. I wouldn't be surprised that this was the moment that sealed Severus's decision into choosing the dark over the light, not after the light let him down so badly.

And yet, what happened when Severus needed help? When he was in a situation he was too young, too small to fix? He ran straight back to Dumbledore. That entire scene is like the estranged son coming home to me. The fear, the begging, the fact that Severus came to someone who let him done so badly (just like how many people still return to parents that let them down because they still need them), the way Dumbledore admonishes Severus so harshly. The way Dumbledore admonished him later too, when he wanted to die, and you can call it 'manipulation', but to me it's a father saving his son from a path he's walked before. That harshness from Dumbledore, it saved Severus, it's what Severus needed even if it hurt him.

And then how Dumbledore asks Severus to be the one to kill him, soley because he wants to die with his dignity intact, he wants to die painlessly. And Severus, so opposed to killing, so afraid for his own soul, still agrees to do so even though he hated to do it. That level of love they have for each other, how Dumbledore's thought of a good death, now that his hours were numbered, was to be killed by Severus, how Severus agreed to risk his soul for Dumbledore, that's beyond any regular relationship. There's a theory too, that Severus's killing curse wasn't what killed Dumbledore, the fall was, based on the fact that Harry's body bind curse did not end until the fall ended, and if you entertain that as a possiblity, that adds to the love Severus had for Dumbledore, that the love prevented his curse from actually killing like it should have, because he did not want Dumbledore to die. And I've already talked multiple time in other posts about how much Severus lost too with this kill. He quite literally lost everything, everyone, and walked alone, carrying Dumbledore's plan with him.

And that too adds to the father/son imagery I see in them. Severus inherited Dumbledore's plan, and he alone knew the truth. He complained to Dumbledore that he only knew half-truths, yet he probably knew more than anyone. He literally inherited Dumbledore's plan, Dumbledore's position, he became the chess-master when Dumbledore was gone. The only person who knew the truth after him was Harry, who Severus passed it on to. That, to me, is like the eldest brother passing the family secrets on to the younger one (and don't get me started on the brother imagry in Harry and Severus, I'll be here forever).

Not only that, their arcs just mirror each other perfectly. Young, isolated men who get caught up in the allure of darkness which leads to a girl they love being killed as a consequence. That night on the hill, Dumbledore was looking at someone who was walking in his footsteps. Him recuiting Severus, to me, wasn't just the move of a clever general who knew at once a valuable informant was at his feet, but the actions of a father wanting to save his son from walking down his own fate. Not only that, but it must have occured to Dumbledore that Severus didn't need to give him anything. Dumbledore would have protected the Potters regardless, and both he and Severus must have known it, and he must have known what Severus was willing to give, considering he asked Severus "What will you give me in return?" and not "Give me your service in return?". So, to me in any case, Dumbledore wasn't just making use of an opportunity, he was giving Severus a way out of the darkness without making it seem that way. And not only did he save Severus, Severus ended up become his heir.

Albus Dumbledore was probably the closest thing to a father Severus ever had. Tobias was the first abuser Severus had, and Voldemort was, uh, Voldemort (need I say more?), and I doubt Slughorn took any special interest in him (because if he did, Slughorn would not have been able to shut up about the boy who corrected literally every single potion in the offical potion text book). Dumbledore and Snape on the other hand had this complicated relationship. They weren't always on the best of terms nor the best of friends, and there were secrets and manipulation from Dumbledore's side, yet they've also seen the best and worst of each other. Snape knew Dumbledore's plans and secrets more than anyone, Dumbledore knew Snape's pains and sorrows more than anyone else. To me, them being father and son is the only possible way to define it with all the complicated bagagge in that relationship.

And I love to imagine in the afterlife Severus and Dumbledore get to live life together without the war complicating everything between them, as the father and son the other never had. I can imagine they'd get along very well. They get along so well in canon too (you don't just have 'do you want me to kill you now or shall i compose an epitaph first' as your first response to someone telling you very seriously they need you to kill them, especially not to someone who's just your boss!) even with the baggage of Dumbledore's secrets and putting too much on Severus and the resentment Severus cannot heal from, so I can imagine that in the afterlife, where all this doesn't matter and they can just be.

And also Dumbledore will be the most embarrassing over-indulgent parent ever who'd call Severus his 'little boy' because 'even if you reach 90 you're still my baby'

[be-my-ally]

Attention needed. (Jealous Elvis Request)

Dearest anon, darling, here you are! Apologies for the *slight* delay, work has kept me far too busy and tired this week - and also, I intended this to be a very quick 1-2k, and somehow that turned into 4k….so hopefully you enjoy!!! I found it a little hard to make it Jerry, who I can’t see knowingly flirting with Elvis’ girl, but I hope I did the prompt justice by making it a -teeny- bit of miscommunication.

pairing: afab!reader x elvis

summary: Reader wants Elvis’ attention, but he refuses to give it to her so she tries to make him jealous, going so far to cozy up with Jerry.

warnings: 18+, jealous!elvis, physical altercation b/t elvis + jerry (not with reader), oral sex (elvis receiving), hurt/comfort with slightly injured!elvis.

wc: 4.4k (whoops)

You hate when he ignores you like this. It’s worse because you know it's calculated, intentional. It’s not just that he’s busy recording, or messing around with the other guys (although he is) but he’s toying with you, in his twisted version of flirting, playing with you. The trouble is that the rules to his games never get shared with you. You’re left guessing how to react, or what his aim is - does he want you to fight him? Argue until you’re forced to be “taught a lesson”? Submit - simply allow him to do whatever, ignoring both your heart and brain? Or some strange, acceptable combination of the two? It seems to change every time, and it’s impossible to guess his reactions at the best of times, let alone when he’s intentionally trying to keep you unbalanced.  And it is, certainly, intentional.

It has to be intentional; his determined actions to ignore your glances over at him, ignoring you lingering in the doorway of the recording studio, your hand on his thigh in the car. In fact he’d brushed you off, not in a malicious way, but in a  - I’m talking to my boys and having fun and moved my leg and didn’t even realise you were there - way. Which in some ways annoys and hurts you more; because you can’t wholeheartedly accuse him of doing it on purpose, and to bring it up would imply that you don’t want him to have fun with his friends, which of course you do. 

So, it has been building the whole day, leading to where you are now. Sulking on the edge of the bed, as you hear him play-fighting with the other ‘boys’ outside, although you can’t see them - its summer and it’s warm enough that the windows are open, but even with the curtains drawn it’s too dark to see. It was late, Elvis’ schedule didn’t conform to trivial things like day and night. So, despite the lateness of the hour, it’s only just coming up on dinner time. He’ll be up in a moment to change - it’s not required for any reason, it’s just family tonight - no-one special to impress, or photographs to be taken but he still likes to look his best. Especially considering he’ll be undoubtedly rumpled and muddy from their roughhousing. All you can think is that you don’t care to think of him looking his best, you just want him to really look at you. See what you’re trying to communicate with him. 

You hate how he makes you feel like it’s you who’s lacking, or who has to put in the extra effort. But still you do it - it annoys the hell out of you but you still do it. You’ve changed into a little powder blue set, teased your hair up high - just how he likes, determined to get his attention back. Your intention, is to make him look at you, force his attention onto you, which means a grand entrance. Which means that you’ll have to hide when he comes up to change and allow him to go downstairs alone before following. He won’t be able to ignore you coming in by yourself. You roll your eyes internally, at the ridiculous lengths you go to for him. When you hear them all coming into the house you dive into your little dressing room, locking the door behind you. You can hear him humming to himself - as he thuds about the bedroom, you can hear the closet door opening and closing and the water running in his bathroom as he gets himself ready and then, a few minutes later, his quick footsteps as he hurries out and back down the stairs. It’s what you wanted, but you can’t help but be annoyed that he didn’t even attempt to look or call for you. 

The annoyance grows, as you wait, when he doesn’t come himself or send someone to get you for dinner, forgetting in your sheer annoyance that he has no idea where you were. You head down the stairs after a few minutes had passed, you can hear the noise of the dining room as soon as you leave the cushioned sound proofing of his upstairs suite. When you walk in, late, you expect a reaction. Sure you’d wanted him to look at you, appreciate you, but you had also expected a little more. To be denied anything else - him simply glancing up at you, and pointing to the empty chair saved for you to the left of him at the head, was borderline offensive. Normally he’d have commented either in annoyance, or out of a protective worry - checking that nothing was amiss, that nothing had kept you. But tonight he does none of that, simply turning back to his conversation - not even waiting to see if his silent order was obeyed. It was, but you’d argue simply because it was the last seat available, not because you’d wanted to. 

That particular place puts you directly next to Jerry, and just out of Elvis’ reach. It’s not an unusual place for you to sit, you’d normally sit as close to him as possible; sometimes sitting up with him or him sitting with you, sometimes even on his lap, but it is rare for him to tell you where to go. He’s commanding and wants his own way, but he’s not normally so demanding in such normal circumstances. You humph to yourself but nonetheless do as he wordlessly commands - you wanted his attention though, not half a glance and an order. You’re quiet through the meal, despite the rambunctious energy from the rest of the table - everyone in high spirits from the finished recording session, and time off they had that evening. 

Elvis ignores you entirely, laughing and joking with Sonny and Red who were sat closest to him, but also joining in on the conversations happening around all sides of the table - shouting down to be heard when necessary. It’s a bit of a squeeze on the table tonight with so many of the closest knit memphis mafia boys staying, extra chairs added and the table extended. Which means that while Elvis, as ever, remains with more than enough space you’re knocking elbows with Jerry. You smile apologetically at him whenever it happens and he responds in kind back at you. You like Jerry, he’s always been nice to you and you’ve never felt the competitive edge that some of the other members of the ‘mafia’ seem to have from him. You chat politely to him, but you don’t have huge amounts to talk about tonight and he’s more preoccupied with the other conversations happening around you so you mostly eat in silence.

Being this close together though does give you an idea of how you might catch Elvis’ attention. You lean over to top up Jerry’s wine glass, using your left arm across your body so that you have to place your right hand on his thigh for balance. You can feel him look down in surprise at you, clearly taken aback at the forward action, uncertain as to whether he should pretend it didn’t happen or acknowledge it. You stroke his thigh once as you linger your hand before pulling it away and he appears to hold his breath until you’ve picked up your own glass with it. You don’t look at Elvis. If he wants to ignore you, you can do the same. Time to play with him for a change. Jerry shifts a little, and you smile at him, allowing him the opportunity to pretend nothing happened. He does so, but you can tell he feels slightly uncomfortable at the suddenly charged atmosphere. You risk a sneaky look over at Elvis, and see that his jaw is tight, although he doesn’t give off any other impression of anger. Your own frustration grows, as he continues to stare away from you - even though you can see him chewing his cheek almost every time you look over - as if in silent signal that he can tell you’re watching. Still, he doesn’t say a word to you. 

When dinner finishes Elvis leads the way into the TV lounge, and you follow. You need to figure out how to up the ante a little, but without taking it too far. Little did you know the chance would come quite quickly. Elvis immediately settled himself onto the large sofa, cigarillo ready to be lit, and some of the others followed. It was pretty crowded, and it wasn’t long before they broke out to some of the other rooms around, spreading out a little. It made it easier to keep one eye on Elvis, while you considered your options. You were stood near the bar - it wasn’t like you were the only one still standing, every place to sit in the room taken up (despite the fact that normally Elvis would have insisted they make room for you - you’re a lady after all), when Jerry came up to it to pour himself a drink. He asks if you want one too and when you agree he does enough for two, handing you the glass as he comes back out. You chat about nothing in particular, and Jerry seems legitimately interested in what you have to say, and you drink, until you’re significantly more relaxed - almost forgetting about your mission. 

You’re two drinks in now, and that plus the wine at dinner has made you a little brazen. You lean against the wall, and you can feel Jerry’s eyes track down your body as you, subtly, push your chest out a little. You continue your conversation, not really talking about much, but you can tell he’s panicking slightly about what to say or do to you. You look over at Elvis again who’s busy entertaining - regaling a couple of the boys left behind with tales from tour, and sigh. Jerry tracks your eyes, and frowns for a moment, 

“Why’d you put up with it?” You look up at him, surprised he would be so direct, 

“What do you mean? I don’t, he’s just…” You’re annoyed with him but you still don’t want to badmouth him to one of his best friends so your trying to choose your words carefully, “Look, you know probably better than anyone that you can’t tell him what to do, or what not to do. So you just have to…go along with it.” His brow furrows as he looks down at you, and he turns so that you’re both facing each other while resting sideways against the wall - if you turned your head slightly you could rest your cheek on the cold wallpaper. 

“It’s just - you’re a swell girl, you’re so pretty, real bombshell like, and you could have anyone, hell he won’t even say he’s in a relationship with ya!” You smile and inch a little closer, not wanting to be overheard. 

“Well, thank you that’s very kind. I’m not… blind to my own attractiveness Jerry. I’m not, … look, here’s the thing. I’m not super needy, or desperate to be liked for my own self worth, but I like him, and that might make me an idiot but I do! So, I’ll put up with a little more than I normally would, because I like him, and that’s all there is to it.” He continues to stare, with a slight commiserating look in his eye. You know he understands more than most. You’ve somehow ended up even closer to one another, barely a few inches between you now. 

“I just don’t think he treats you right.” He shakes his head, and you go to say something in reply but you’re interrupted by Jerry’s arm being abruptly grabbed and pulled away from you, 

“What the hell you doing Jerry? Hitting on my girl like that! What’s wrong with ya!” Jerry stumbles back, and rubs his arm where Elvis had grabbed him, 

“Jesus- EP, we were just talkin’ is all. We weren’t doing nothing.” You can sense that Elvis wasn’t believing him, 

“Looked from over there like you were about to do more than that. Looked like you were about to try and kiss her. You going around kissin’ my girls now?” You shake your head, starting to protest, and he whirls onto you, holding up a hand, “I’ll deal with you in a second little girl. Come on now Jer - you now saying you don’t want to kiss her?” Jerry stutters back at him, 

“No-I uh, god, no offense y/n. I wouldn’t E!” 

“No? Sounded like you’d try, I heard you Jer, ‘he don’t treat you right’ is what you said ain’t it!” It’s like watching two cars collide in front of you, you simultaneously feel panicked by the way the conversation is going, but also can’t look away. Jerry suddenly seems to have had enough of being accused or perhaps simply aware of the inevitability of the next event and draws himself up, 

“Well, so what if I did - it's true.” The sentence is barely out of his mouth before Elvis’ fist is flying. 

“What the hell! Elvis! His nose!” You’re horrified at the action unfolding, but you can’t help but be a tiny bit pleased that Elvis is at least fighting for you, even if it is with a pinch of guilt that it’s at Jerry’s expense. Jerry is, unlike some of the others, not afraid of Elvis - and not unwilling to fight back, although you can tell he’s purposefully not aiming for Elvis’ face. So they scrabble together, Elvis stumbling back onto the edge of the sofa after a particularly hard shove from Jerry. 

“Elvis! Jerry! Someone stop them!” You’re shouting at the other men in the room, but it’s too late - the pair go crashing over the top of the sofa, and hit the coffee table on the way down. Both of them lie flat on their backs for a moment before Jerry stands, offering Elvis his hand. He takes it, and is immediately pulled up, shirt ruffled, hair a mess (although he’s faring better than Jerry with a black eye forming and a red nose) and you step forward - “What was that all about! Of all the childish stupid things to do! Look at the pair of you!”  Elvis looks over at you, his eyes blazing, panting, before storming out of the room. You turn to apologise to Jerry, and he accepts it with a small nod of his head, heading over to the little bar for a drink after the drama. He’s not one to hold a grudge, and to be fair neither is Elvis - they’ll be friends again in half hour. 

You can hear Elvis shouting to himself as he tears through the house and you’re in half a mind to let him wear himself out before going in to him, but the other half of your brain is telling you not to let him rile himself up any more than he already is. So you follow, but slowly, and by the time you get into the foyer he’s sat on the sofa in the music room, leaning heavily against its back, his head tipped back and his eyes closed.  You can see his chest heaving with breaths from the exertion, and can tell, from his brief wince on the inhale that he’s obviously hurt a rib. You find it hard to be sympathetic though, since it was of his own making. 

“El-“ 

“Don’t you start little girl - I saw you flirting like a goddamn teasing whore, trying to turn me the fuck on. With Jerry of all people.” You wince at his tone - eyes wide in an attempt to protest your innocence, 

“That’s not fair - he wasn’t - … you weren’t paying me any attention! He was just talking to me!” He scoffs at you, 

“Well, you’ve got my attention now.” He swings his head forward to look at you and he’s calm, but you know that can sometimes precipitate further emotion from him. You can’t help but think he looks good, even as you can tell there’s bruising forming under his shirt; slightly sweaty, hair ruffled, and his shirt coming untucked. Actually, he looks a lot, and you blush as you recognise the thought, like he does when you’ve had sex. You start to stutter out some apology or explanation but your mouth has gone dry as he continues to stare at you. He crooks his fingers, the same two fingers he always does and you follow him closer.  He pats his thigh and you warily approach, half expecting to be flung over his knee, he’s unpredictable like this. You try to perch delicately but he pulls you up and across with a slight grunt. Probably from his rib, you look down at him, 

“This is silly - you’re hurt! Let me have a look.” You start to pull at his shirt, as if attempting to get underneath to assess his injury. But he stops you with a tight hand on your wrist. 

“I’m fine, nothin’ that won’t be sorted after a shower.”  His dismissive tone does nothing to reassure you, but you can’t protest when he shakes you slightly with his hold around your wrist and waist. “Now, baby, what was all that about. You gonna try and tell me again you didn’t do it on purpose?” You falter for a second, you don’t want to lie but you also don’t want to admit to your actions; you’re a little embarrassed to have stooped to such a level. “You’ve been doin’ it all evening - god, all fucking day, trying to get on my damn nerves.” Now that you will protest. 

“Elvis! I haven’t! Not all day! I was jus-“

“Ah-ha!” He crows at you, “So you admit, you were this evenin’ though huh honey?” You wince, refusing to incriminate yourself any further. “Trying to rile me up all night you have - turning up to dinner late, and you think I don’t know you were hiding in your bathroom?” You look back at him, slightly stunned to be so called out, his hand leaves your wrist, trailing up to your face. He strokes the side of your cheek from the bone of your eyebrow to the base of your chin. You tremble, feeling goosebumps springing up on your flesh.  He does it again, stroking down before he, with the same fingers, grabs hold of your face, gripping your cheeks in his fingers - squeezing them together. 

“Say you’re sorry, say ‘sorry Elvis’.” He mimics you in a high pitched tone. You start to protest and his fingers dig in tighter, 

“So-rry Elvis.” You repeat back to him, he hums back at you. 

“Got a nasty habit of arguing with me, little girl. I ain’t gonna put up with that anymore. Not from you.” You nod, and his hand, almost in praise, travels up your thigh. You squirm, your heart beating fast, suddenly aware of your pulse - you wonder if he can tell. He trails his fingers down your cheeks, stopping near your throat, resting for a moment before skipping down to hold you around your waist again. He leans his head close to yours, his breath tickling your ear. “You want my attention darling, you just gotta ask. I ain’t dealing with this bratty shit no more.” His hand strokes your inner thigh, “Understand?” You frantically nod back, 

“Yeah, yeah of course, of - uh - course.” You probably shouldn’t find it so hot to be told off but you do.  He shifts you from leaning so heavily on his side, and you sit up completely, looking over at him sternly - you knew he was in pain. He interrupts you before you can say anything though.

“Been tryna get you to just ask me for what you want all goddamn day. But Lord did you make it difficult for me.” His eyes have a certain glint in them, and you’re not wholly surprised when the next words out of his mouth are, “Guess you oughta make me feel better then little one, you gonna make it up to me? - Go on, baby, get on those little knees for me.” You half roll your eyes, not convinced you’ve done anything that requires apologising but still you slink off his thighs to kneel between his legs. It’s not something nice girls should admit to, but it’s not a hardship for you to take him in your mouth, in fact, quite the opposite. So you kneel, letting him unbutton his trouser - his hardening cock immediately jumping free. 

You lean forward, stroking him gently to full hardness. You go to kiss the tip, and his hands find their way into your hair, bracketing your head, his rings catching a couple of strands that sting a little. But, in a good way that causes your thighs to clench with each little pull. Your fingers go to gently stroke his balls, and you watch as it prompts a bead of white to form at the end of his uncut cock. He grunts down at you, 

“Don’t tease me baby, that’s not how you say sorry.” He pulls your head closer, and the tip of his dick nudges your lips. You let it in, letting it sit for a moment while you adjusted to him being in your mouth again - it’s not something you’re especially skilled at, and you don’t do it often enough to be entirely used to it all but you’re certainly enthusiastic about it. You let it slip out of your mouth with a little pop, taking the time to lick a stripe down his full length, before circling the tip back in your mouth. 

“Thatsa good girl, c’mon now, take it in.” You do as he commands, bobbing down again, tasting his slight salty tang, the sweat from his exertion adding to his general manly musk. Your nose brushes against his base as you open your throat, taking shallow breathes in from your nostrils. His hips jerk as you take a moment to suck, causing his dick to knock against your throat - you can’t help but gag, and you pull off coughing slightly - his hands tugging you off quicker than you’d have gone by yourself. “Sorry sweetheart,” he strokes your cheek as you catch your breath, “God you’re fucking gorgeous.” You blink up at him, through your watering eyes and he groans, his head falling back again. “Lord, if you could see yourself right now.” You smile slightly, going back down on him. Your hands come up to hold his thighs and you dedicate yourself to the task at hand. Bobbing the length of his cock, You’re more prepared this time when he can’t help but move his hips and you go with him, fighting your gag reflex. Your hand finds where your mouth can’t comfortably reach, and gently holds him in place while your other goes down to delicately stroke his balls. You go with where his hands in your hair tug you, up and down, as you feel his thighs clench. 

You don’t have any particularly strong opinions about swallowing, it just depends on your mood and although he’s made it quite clear he’d prefer for you to swallow he’s not about to force you into anything. Today though, as you look up at him through your wet lashes, you can see the glint in his eye as he murmurs that he’s close, and watches you glance about, realising that in the living room you don’t have much choice, unless you’re planning on dirtying your sleeve or the couch. You make eye contact and it seems to be the catalyst to send him over the edge, swearing as you swallow him down. He breathes heavily for a few moments as you finish licking him clean before pulling off to wipe your mouth and chin clean. He tucks himself away, “That’s it. Good girl,” he sighs,  thumbing any lasting traces of wet on your face away, “that was a mighty nice ‘pology.” You smile up at him. Pleased that he’s pleased. 

“I really wasn’t flirting with Jerry,” You tilt your head, “…much.” He guffaws back at you, his previous black mood forgotten, looking down at you with half lidded eyes, 

“S’ok darling, sorry I lost my lid with ya - shouldn’t, shoul-dn’t have. Knew you wouldn’t really.” He pulls you up into his arms, although you protest, and he starts to try to lay you on the couch. “Lemme take care of you now baby, lemme take care of you.” 

“Elvis,” You start tentatively, pushing back on his hands to sit upright. “Wouldya, would you let me have a look at your side? That’s how you can take care of me, let me have a look.” He looks at you, eyes wide, 

“You, you don’t hafta baby, it’s my fault.” You hush him, shifting to be sat next to him and pull his top up, he allows it - lifting his arm to help you roll it up and get a clear look. You tut at the red marks mottling his side, can see where it’s going to develop into a nasty bruise right along the line of his rib, clearly where he’d crashed into the coffee table. He winced when you push into it, but (despite your lack of medical training) you’re pretty sure that it doesn’t feel broken or cracked. Just bruised.

“Let’s get some ice on that, and then I’ll put some cream on it later, ‘fore we go to bed.” He blinks at you for a second, 

“Yeah, yeah sounds like a -ah- plan.” He grunts as his arm comes down, his facial expression changes quickly, a little smirk forming although he’s still got that soft expression on his face, the one that always appears when he’s being taken care of. “You gonna nurse me back to health? Get you a lil’ cap and gown?” You shake your head at him, 

“In your dreams, buddy. C’mon,” You shake his arm as you stand, “Let’s go get that ice.” He nods, following you like a lost puppy.

[miscellaneouslibrary]

"Sword Fight" short comic

Lol, more Philomina content.

I drew this in my handheld calendar so that's why there's spotted lines.

For this comic, I was really inspired by the fights in Dandadan(great manga, though a very surprising first chapter). Paneling, perspective, foreshortening, speed lines, dynamic posing, I did my best in incorporating all those in this here mini comic. There's a lot of cut corners, like how Phil and Blade seem to be battling in a white void, and where the heck both their swords have gone, too. Next time, I'll draw the background so the space doesn't feel so barren!

I'm very proud of panel 7. In manga, I love how characters are sometime drawn out of frame to showcase speed or power. In this case, Phil looks like she's jumping into the frame to show her speed to the reader! It's just really neat. Hopefully, the way she's posing guides the readers to the next few panels. Also, the way Blade is flying backwards and the way the onomatopoeia "BAM" is drawn just accentuates the force behind Phil's kick, with the speed lines and negative space attracting your eyes to her shoes 😌 Absolute chef's kiss imo.

Honestly, this is the first time I've ever drawn Blade, so I don't really know if I did the man justice in the handsome department 😅. I didn't draw his mouth most of the time because I wanted his eyes to do the talking. I tried my best to draw him as a beast of sorts with determined and crazed eyes looking only at his prey, in this case Philomina(who we sometimes take the perspective of). His focused expression only falters when Phil does something that surprises him.

I don't know if I showcased it well in the comic but Phil is using her rapier to pierce through Blade and curving the rapier's blade to stab him multiple times in order to restrict his movements(panel 5). Then after that, Phil has the rapier spiral behind Blade to an unrecorded amount of length hence the star. Then, while Blade is confused because he's never fought an opponent who's done this before, Phil kicks him in the gut real hard, the force pushing him back. And you know what's behind him? That's right, a spiraling blade that breaks if applied too much pressure to the sides of it. So while, Blade is being kicked by Phil, he's also getting sliced up in the back by multiple shattered pieces of the rapier's blade. And because Phil is significantly smaller than Blade, she won't sustain as bad of injuries as him.

Little tidbit: Philomina despises the Stellaron Hunters. She believes that the actions they've done are unorthodox and vehemently believes that there are other options in changing fate than committing crimes. Speaking of fate, she doesn't believe it at all. Phil believes that the future can never be predetermined and claims that prophecies are psychological traps that prevent people from recognizing other options than what was shown to them by "fate". You can see why she has vendetta against Elio of the Stellaron Hunters. By looking into the future, you are cementing that future as the only option forward.

Because of that, she doesn't believe the Finality is actually real(never has she seen such evidence aside from stories from the Creed Exequys and Omen Vanguards) and argues a lot with a pink-haired master diviner from the Xianzhou Luofu.

[popculturebuffet]

Supermay! What's So Funny About Truth, Justice and the American Way? (Patreon Review for Brotoman.EXE)

Hello all you happy kryptonains and welcome back to supermay, a month long tribute to all things man of steel. This week is a two parter as we look at one of the best superman comics of all time, one of the best one shot issues of all time and one of the best deconstructions of "Why don't heroes do whatever they want and kill whoever they want" of all time. I'm not softballing it: this issue is fantastic. We'll also be looking at it's adaptation later this week, the DTV film Superman Vs the Elite.

For now though we're focusing on the original story. What's So Funny... was originally published in 2001 in Action Comics 775, written by Joe Kelly and drawn by Doug Mankhe and Lee Bermejo.

For those not familiar with him Kelly is a comics legend, having helped define deadpool with his first solo book and coming back to the character quite a bit without the dimnishing returns creators sometimes have. He also founded animation studio Man of Action and is one of the co-creators of both Ben 10 and Generator Rex.

Kelly wrote superman for a 5 year run, a nice stretch all things considered and one I wish, like most of 90's and 2000's superman would get recollected. Or at the very least hopefully is on dc universe infinite. It's not AS good as having collections out there, but it's something. But if his stories are anywhere near this good, i'd love to see more of them.

Kelly wrote What's So Funny as a direct response to another book DC was publishing at the time: The Authority. The Authority were created by emotinally abusive grooming coersive dickhead Warren Ellis and entirely good dude Bryan Hitch. I bring up the latter because Hitch seems genuinely kind and deserves his flowers... and the former because it shouldn't be forgotten. Ellis hasn't genuinely atoned, deserved to loose everything he did, and while his talent shouldn't be forgotten, it's only because his talent is WHY he was able to do this. If we suddenly go "Oh he always sucked", it undercuts HOW he was able to do this. Most people he abused were fans of his and it's worth remembering he was talented.. and must ALWAYS be remembered what he choose to use said talent to do to people. I won't go into details as to avoid triggering those of you who have been simiarly abused, but if your curious go to somanyofus.com. What testimonals I have read are heartbreaking.

As for the Authority itself, it was a followup to Ellis' run on storm watch, a book created by Jim Lee about a UN Sanctioned super team that Ellis helped transform, adding in some new creations of his own to revitalize the team. The book was a critical hit and loved at the offices of Wildstorm, the company that published stormwatch and would soon be bought by DC. The problem was it wasn't selling, and Ellis, both feeling bad they were keeping the book around just because of him and wanting to take things up a notch, reconfigured the team into the authority.

The Authority was a massively powerful team, assembled to face massive threats like an army of supermen dispatched by a mad dictator, a colonliast alien-italian empire that wanted to take earth, and God itself who turned out to be an elder god wanting to restore earth to factory settings. Hitch's art made things feel BIG and cinematic, his specality, and helped show just how big comics could be alongside other works before it (JLA) and after it (New X-Men).

The team had swagger, cool powers.. and most important to this story.. no problem with killing. The team carved their way through armies of enemies, killing whoever they had to and in the first two arcs comitted mass murder: Midnighter, the team's batman and biggest asshole, drove their ship through a country just to get at the first arc's big bad, while the Doctor, their magic man and only able to get away with the name because Doctor Who hadn't been revivied just yet, killed all of alternate italy to destroy an alien empire. These steps weren't taken lightly and were only taken because otherwise more death would follow, but it was clear the team weren't meant to be good guys: simply the only ones who COULD do the job.

This changed with the following run, and I read both Ellis' run and the first two arcs of it's followup for proper context. I ddin't necessarily half to and Brotoman didn't ask and was honestly shocked I put in this much extra effort... but I realized if your going to disect a work calling out the other work, you need to have a fresh understanding of what it's fighting against.

So Ellis' run was followed up by comics legend Mark Millar. Millar seems to be a nice guy nowadays, fun to be around, lvoes the buisness, keeps going simply because he can and with one of the largest creator owned rosters of characters around.

In the 2000's though and for most of his career.. Millar was the king of the edgelords. he was the threw it on the ground guy as an actual tangible person. Millar's idea of adult storytelling was some genuine political comentary idaes.. mixed with a lot of sex and violence for the sake of sex and violence, using senstive topics like sexual assault simply to seem "edgy". So naturally the Authority went from "assholes to a point but with limits" to every last one of them saying edgelord shit, mowing down everyone in their path and LOVING it, and fucking everyone they could because Mark Millar likes ot scream

In your ear while doing nothing to prove he's not a 13 year old boy in a grown up's body. And please note I would gladly review Millar's shit as much as it frustrates me, but will never cover anything by Ellis as long as he lives, as I do not want to give that fucker any more attention than I have to, despite my reactoin to reading the first arc of the authority under him being a resounding

To give you an idea of what I had to put up with dialouge wise, here's a samping from the first four issues of Millar's run.

There's more and the bad guys are even worse, but i'd rather not throw that in here on the grounds that I LIKE you guys and I don't want to throw unecessary edgelord bollocks in here that might trigger some of you who've geninely gone through things Millar brings up just to seem more "adult".

So that's where the authority were at, and it's impressive that things escalated so much in four issues less than a YEAR before What's So Funny was published> It's why I read what I did: It's what would've been out there and while Ellis' run had likely bothered kelly, given how the Elitie are depicted and how their leader acts, it's clear a LOT of it came from Millar's work. I mean you have to be a specail brand of douchebag to get a response to your characters being the worst less than a YEAR in.

The bigger reason for this response was how fans reacted: Fans.. LOVED the authority and as tends to happen when you get a shiny new "edgy" team, some asked: "Why doe we need those other guys? If we have heroes willing to kill, topple governments and swagger all the while, why do we need some guy in tights telling us not to?" Superman was seen by some as outdated and as a result was the target of one of the oldest arguments in all of comics: should superheroes keep doing what they do, or should they take the world and force it to be better or else? It's an argument that NEVER seems to go away.

Proving this, DC had just done a story like this 5 years ago with Kingdom Come, which explored both heroes who are worse than the villians and what happens when the heroes take over. And before THAT marvel did Squadron Supreme in 1985, showing what would genuinely happen if a justice league equilvent took over the world. It'll always be a questoin to be had because readers will cycle out and the next batch will ask the same questions. So join me as we look at the answers, see WHY Superman needs to stand against this and why his methods, despite being questioned every couple of years, stand the test of time and the test of someone who had a dream he didn't like.

We open with Superman flying to Libya as superman flies to stop a superterror attack.. in this case a giant gorilla wielding a giant gun and I will pay adam wingard 5 dollary doos if the next Godzilla X Kong Film involves Kong pistol wipping a giant monster with a shot gun. Just saying.

At any rate clark arrives.. to find something truly horrific.

I give artist Doug Manhke a LOT of credit... despite having only a spread to work with he shows just how horrific this is.. and that's WITHOUT giving anything away about who did it. All we know is suddenly a group with a lot of power saved the day.. but also dropped a giant monster corpse on a city, left said city in ruins, and massacred what was , in all likelyhood an animal who had no say in being made into a giant cybernetic monstrosity. I mean this IS the dc universe with an entire ape city. I could buy Grodd or someone like him growing giant and giving themselves some cable armor to go do some murders, it just comes off more like someone super sized an ape afte rloading it up with hardware and relseaed it on a city and instead of rocgnizing the beast was simply a wild animal, those responsible brutalyl murdered it.

We soon find out who as Clark hears back from the rest of the Daily Planet crew as competing paper the Star, based on the paper Clark worked at in the earlier stories and that grant morrison would bring back for their action comics run, published a gushing story about the four monsters responsible: The Elitie, a super powerful superteam whose leader, Manchester Black even gave a statement "Trust me the old ways are dead in a year you'll love me for this".. then he cut the general he gave the statment too's legs off. It's a great intro: without meeting the guy we instantly know the deep level of prick we're dealing with, and how he'll do a casual violence simply becaues he wants to. Two thousand soldiers died in this attack along with the actual target. Also Jimmy gives a VERY poorly aged joke about watning to shoot the staff of the daily star, which is in character but still feels entirley messed up especially since Columbine had happened at this point. Jesus Jim.

As for who wrote this puff piece that would be Jack Ryder.

For those not familiar with him, Jack Ryder is a "Journalist" and I say so in the loosest terms as in most apperances he's just trying to get attention, being eerly similar to the wave of reactionary assholes we'd see in that decade. He's also the superhero the creeper, a split personality of his who wears a giant boa, cackles and is both awesome and criminally underused by dc. Seriously why they don't use this guy more I don't know. Jack gets more apperances and they can find another strawman or make one.

At any rate Jack's not here to be creepy but to praise terroists while his other self facepalms on the inside. He and clark have debate that is less than civil... and it's telling that clark , who does try to be calma nd kind even when he's pissed off, is absolutely FURIOUS at jack propping these assholes up

Now what I really like about this scene is Jack is an asshole. He make sa mocking joke before maknig an actual pointa nd dowplays all the innocent people who died. And the ape. Seriously someone feel bad an ape died. Why is it just me.

But he raises one valid point while talking directly out of his ass: "And three months later it would happen all over again"> Jack is wrong about..e verything else. Entirely. Seriously creeper needs to get a body seperator machine asap.. but he's right this shit is cyclical and people want a fix. Even 23 years later.. the world still feels broken. Kelly doesn't like the authority.. but he gets WHY people like them: Their a power fantasy, a group of people killing all the big bad dictators, putting corrupt presidents in check and trying to fix a broken world. Their methods are horrible.. but in a time that' scomplciated, unfair and frightening.. it's so easy to cling to someone who seemingly has the answers. It's why so many people flock to the right: turning to hate is sometimes the easiest solution.

We get a brief interlude with president luthor where we find out just HOW powerful these guys are. one of them, coldcast blinked and it shorted out satilites. As Amanda waller put it superman would need a jetpack and a space shuttle to even come close to their power

Naturally Lex's position.. is to let it lie. He plans to turn them into cat food, his exact words, if they so much as touch the US.. but for now their fighting other metas for respect.. and given their clearly gunning for superman and badly outclass him.. well Luthor can't resisit seeing how it plays out, letting the leitie have their fun for now.. and seeing if he can get a dead superman out of the deal. He dosen't say that directly.. but he's sure as hell thinking it as hard as he can.

The Elitie aren't resting on their laurels either, releasing a manefsto that amounts to "do bad shit and we'll fucking kill you". Superman talks this over with Steel.. but it's clear their getting to clark.. and the one thing he says makes it clear why "Do you think the world's moved on?". IT's a powerful statment: Clark himself is wondering if this is what people WANT now, if he's outmoded and if he' sreally making a diffrence.

He dosen't have time to answer as a crisis in Tokyo happens .. and Clark gets to be front and center to meet the Elite this time. Sadly.. Clark can't do anything. His body start's slowing down and we later find out it was coldcast of the elite, having done so to stop an army of geneticly engeneered samurai from massacring toykyo... so the elite massacre them instead. And after a good 15 or so pages of setup.. we finally get a look at the future.

They clockwise from the center; Manchester Black, the groups leader and mouthpiece and powerful Telekenetic, Coldcast, electric man whose deisgn was really not thorught through whatsoever and looks racist as hell, Menagre, a woman combind witha colony of deady creature and the hate, a japanese man merged with a demon that give hims a bunch of magical powers

What's intresting is rather than go 1:1, the elite compress the members of the auhority down from seven people to four so before we move on here's who they represent on the Authority

Manchester Black: Manchester is a combination of the authorities leaders: Founder Jenny Sparks and her successor Jonathan Hawksmore. Sparks is the spirit of the 20th century, had no real fliter and was never all tha tpolite, while Hawksmor was modified by aliens to become one with cities, able to travel between them effortlessly, and was also a jackass in a leather jacket who was dismissive to everyone> both gave grandose speeches and had no respect for anyone else who wasn't on their team. His powers are all him, likely because the electric poewrs were already livewires thing (and thus ported over to another member) and jack's powers were creatively specitic and somethign that might not work on superman, able to have cities eath people alive.. and given Superman's a good dude they likely woudln't.

Coldcast: Electric dynamo. Again that design what the fuck .Seems to be a combo of Jack and Jenny power wise, able to manipuate the ground in addition to electricity... I say seems as I had to look pu their power sets as the story isn't very speciic about them and Manchesters is only known to me because being a telepath and telekenetic are key to later stories starring the guy.

Menagere: Seems to be a comination of the team's two other female members; the Engineeer, a scientest with nanites in her blood that can shape into anything and swift, a woman who can grow claws and has wings, simply combingin the living hive nature of the engineer and making it more biological like swift.

The Hat: The only one that's honestly.. pretty much the same person from the authority just with a diffrent name. The Hat is based on the doctor, an ex drug addict and voice of the earth itself, latest in a long line of doctors who can do whatever he feels like really. That's not hyperbole: the doctor can bend reality and the rest of the authority all had weaknesses: Swift is fast but not super strong, the Engineer can only make things up to the the point her body has enough blood to still function, Hawksmoor's powers only work in a city, Apollo has to have a solar charge built up, something their dimension traveling spaceship dosen't provide, etc. The Doctor's only issue is if someone can cut him off and when that was done in Millar's first arc it still made no sense. It's also why I gather while the rest of the authority keeps coming back now their a full part of the dc universe, Jenny, who was dead, is even getting a mini series in august, the Doctor is just too powerful to bring back without finding some new check and ballance for him that isn't just "he's an ex addict", as we're more senstive to addiction these days, as we should be.

There's two notable omissions: Apollo and Midnighter. Apollo and Midnighter are the book's breakout stars by a wide margin, having been the first to be succesfully integrated into the dcu and being fan faviorites from the word go. The two are stand in's for superman and batman, but still distinct enough to work: Both are a bit darker given their background being raised by manipulative bastard among all manipulative bastards Henrey Bendix and both have unique power diffrences that set them apart: Apollo , as established, charges up his powers with the sun and what he can do is dependant on how much charge he has... but to compesnate for having a bigger reliance on the sun, he can shoot energy and thus wipe out an entire crowd of enemies with one shot and keep going. Midnighter meanwhile has a combat computer in his brain, is a few steps ahead like batman and has regenerating nanite blood, being essentially what happens if batman and wolverine became the same person.. again, and had less restraint.

The two are also married. Yeah, in the 90's, edgelord as they could be... we had two openly queer characters. Not only that the rest of the team accepted them: they'd crack jokes about the two's relationship, but no one genuinely cared the two were gay and given this was the late 90's, that's a HUGE statement. And i'll give credit where it's due: I may not like MIllar's run and only read what I absolutely had to... but he DID end said run with the two getting married and thankfully even with ellis being the worst. if your curious about the two I highly recommend Steve Orlando's run on Midnighter and it's followup Apollo and Midnighter, integrating the two into the dc universe.

So why would they leave out the two biggest characters on the roster? Simple.. their based on Superman and Batman. Having a golden god around kinda undermines the Elite's whole "Take a seat grandpa the new kids are here", gimmick, and if you throw in a batman type guy... it begs the question why Clark dosen't bring in Batman. And while pitting the elitie versus the justice league WOULD'VE been intresting, it wasn't something they had time for: Kelly wasn't writing JLA yet, and while having them appear in superman's book isn't out of bounds.. they had one issue. And my guess is they were squeezing said issue in before they had to start the build up to the big "Our Worlds at War" crossover that year, which started in august. The fact this story happened before that with Kelly presumibly already having stories planned, in less than a year, is a miracle in itself, so I get Kelly didn't really have time to loop in the rest of everyone and thus he trimmed the authority down to four elities for time's sake

And even with a small group... none of them are really fleshed out here aside from Manchester. I had to look up their powers because they got filled in in later stories. Here their just vauge and powerful. It's one of the stories few weakpoints: the rest of the elitie are just jackasses on a power high and that's all their personality is. It dosen't hurt the story a lot as that's all the story really needs and Manchester Black is such an engaging and despicable shithead that you only really need the one ring master for this circus, but it is something I look forward to in the movie, which has the time to flesh this out Kelly simply didn't have here.

Like I said though.. Black is engagin. He's thorughly vile here... but in a way where you get WHY people are trusting this asshole: he gives cleverly worded speeches, takes out bigger bad guys, and generally has a swagger to him. He still has the charm that Sparks and Hawksmoor genuinely had.. but he also has the asshole turned up a notch, again whY I feel that this story is a response to millar: Jenny and Jack were dicks under Ellis.. but Millar just has this very specific brand of dickishness in his characters , especially his mouth pieces, that Kelly captures REALLY well with Manchester. He's a swaggering asshole who answers to no one else and would stop a man from saving lives simply to try and prove he's outdated.

He also gives supes a tour: like the authority, the elite have a ship that's sentient. Unlike the Authority's ship, which is at best a lost child the team basically adopts when they realize it's alive and spend time gently coaxing when they need it to leave earth orbit and face it's abandonment issues, Bunny, the Elitie's hq.. is enslaved by them. They found out it was sapient, found out she didn't like what they were doing.. and cut out her heart to make her more compliant.

Superman understandably isn't here for a tour, he's here to stop them.

Manchester isn't wrong: some villians don't play fair, the world itself dosen't, and so he raises the question of "why shoudlnt' we". The brilliant thing is while he has a point that the world is in rough shape... it's HOW he phrases it that points out the flaws in his philosphy: "Any normal person could do this if they had the chance".. but SHOULD they. Is it really okay to be a bad person simply because your going after worse people? And superman's answer is a very clear "No". More on that as we go but for now Superman gets sent to a superman themed car dealership for his trouble.

We cut to the Kent Farm, where we get pa revealing he decked a guy insulting clark for the incident. I like that it dosen't shy away from the fact that no, Small Town America is not immune to this kind of thought, giving into hate because it seems like the easy solution. But once again Kelly, rather than be super condescinding, gets into why people might buy into what the elitie are selling: the world is a scary place, and it's easy to buy into someone offering a quick solution, a band aid to the world's problems. To become the evil to stop the evil.

This story, while deconstructing him slightly, does get ot hte heart of WHY Superman is needed, in his worlds and in ours: He's an inspiration. As Pa points out.. clark shows them theirs a better way. That we can be better. Clark himself madea speech like this in JLA a few years before this, a speech I feel gets to the heart of the character and superheroes in general

That's what a superhero is. not a babysitter in spandex, not the cure to a wounded world... simply someone there to help humanity at it's lowest, when it needs them.. and to inspire the average person to be better. To try and make a bette rowrld even if it seems impossible. And note this dosen't mean ignoring rough shit in the world, both Supermana nd Wonder Woman have gone into dictatorships and saved civliians. It's not letting that consume you. It's hard, so very hard, to not let the world swallow you up hole.. but fighting that every day is heroic. To simply be and to be good to others. It's what makes these guys heoric: they may stumble from time to time.. but they get back up, and do good despite the world shitting on them, or people like Black telling them "your irrelvant". You fight because it's the right thing to do, because it's what you can do to help the world.

Pa is also sure clark can just.. kick the elitie's asses if it goes south.. but Clark isn't. It's not helped by the tide turning against him: while several citizens do doubt the leitie... many support them. An easy fix to hard issues. But the most chilling.. is the children

That idea that being able to kill somehow makes you better.

Supes still tries to take the high road, stopping the men in black, who in the dc universe apparently traffic aliens. He stops the aliens witht hem with water. no loss of life, no muss no fuss. The Elitie have been watching, and Manchester is utterly bored with this lecture, not taking it seriously and calling supes an idiot when he plans to have the league and the DEO haul these guys in. Black lets supes know these are super black ops people and will just be given cushy job training other guys to do the same. And superman.. just says he'll keep putting them away till they get the point.

Yeah while i'm on clark's side, and do think the elitei's solution of just.. killing them solves nothing, after all if these guys can be replaced, how does killing a few to send a message do anything? They'll just find more guys willing to do it despite the risk. But at the same time... Superman is smarter than this. We'll see that shortly. He knows better than to just "lock them up again". He'd have Batman look into it, then use the league to make sure these guys got the justice they deserved. He has on his team a telepath with global connections, a recognized ambassador, a king and a billionare and that's just people on the team currently. He can make sure these guys ar eheld acoutnable and find out and bust up who they worked for. Just.. phrase it tha tway instead.

Black isn't impressed.. but his repsonse shows he's somehow worse at this than just "keep beating them and hopefully they'll stop which has worked never times but i'll do it anyway": Have the hat Kill them all.. and their families. Superman naturally punches the hat before he can do this.. and Black decides this is more than enough justifacation to formally go after superman.

Honestly the more I think about this scene, the more I see it as a ploy: Dont get me wrong, given his actions I do think Black would slaughter someone's family as a message... but he does so right after superman genuinely tried to show them a better way, making it clear he hates the lecture and ONLY listned to try and prove some kind of point. He KNEW these gyuys existed, they created menagre.. but didn't do anything about them or give Superman actual advice. He just wanted to strut in and then try and undo everything clark did, all the live she didn't take, just so he'd have the thinest justifcation to pick a fight with superman one on four. As for why not just do this from the outset that's simple: Manchester Black CLEARLY wannted the smug satisfaction of breaking superman, of getting him to see his way, wether it was by sitting out or by being humbled. He wanted this fight from the second he swaggered up, and simply dragged it out this long to humilate superman. He knows this isn't just a battle of two blokes punching each other, it's a battle for the world's soul, a battle of ideals: Black's "kill ema ll and let god sort it out" pessimist versus superman "We have to let them be better on thier own and they can be" optimist.

Lois.. is less pleased, mostly because she's sure her husband is going to die. And I like how the art convey's this too: Lois has more faith than clark in anybody but you can tell by her eyes she's worried about her husband picking a fight with a team on the league's level just to prove a point, to possibly die for it. It's chilling to see lois, of all people, scared. But clark has to go: even if he dies for this, it's, like I said, a battle of ideals. If he backs down more people like those kids find killing fun, the easy way the only way, and the world gets even worse. He has to show the world there's a better way.. because if he dosen't everything he's fought for, everything he stands for slowly slides away and more good people fight and die to preserve his ideals.

Clark confronts them. Naturally they choose metropolis for this final battle.. and naturally Clark says "hell no" to that as he isn't going to put innocents in danger. Black agrees, though he has their ship broadcast it worldwide: he wants the world to know this was a fair fight.

Our fighters head for the moon. Unsuprisingly Clark tries one last time to talk them down. I'd call this suicidal... but it's also Supes. He'll try talking, try reforming people if he can. And it'd be weird if he didn't. The Elitie take this as you'd expect.. Manchester tk's him then they take turns beating himn while he speechifies again.

Superman is seemingly curbstomped, with Coldcast delivering some electricity to his brain , seemingly blwoing superman up real good.. but as the Elitie brag... a voice is heard

We then get one of the most bonechilling scenes in comics.. as Superman finally decides to play by The elitie's rules..

In only two pages for us and two minutes for the elitie.. the team is down, semeingly dead. IT's a terrifying display of just what superman CAN do: take the air away, rip your powers away, or just hurl you into space. We've seen plenty of evil superman stand ins do things like this, the viltrumites from invincible are essentially one long look at that, but seeing CLARK do it.. is something else. Something far worse.

Superman finishes the fight by seemingly lobotmizing black, taking out the section of the brain that give shim his powers.. and as black cries and breaks down.. Superman.. lifts the curtain

It's a brilliant twist that also puts all the pieces in place: Clark went alone.. because he had to make it beliviable, and the others were always on standbye. He likely told Bruce and the others what he had planned simply because otherwise.. they would've come to stop him. It's what Clark would want if he really crossed that line.

He simply disabled their powers for now: he gave Chester a concussion: he'll get his powers back.. but will be under tons of psy dampeners befor ehe can.

I love this display: it both shows WHY superman could be dangerous.. and why he isn't. It's easy to be vengeful... it's harder to try and inspire people not to, to keep dreaming ot keep trying to be better. It' sthe hard road but the better one: sure he could kill or take over the world.. but humanity isn't his to take. It's his to help inspire, to make us better by showing what the best of us can do with the gifts they were born with. Chester, like any villian vows he'll be back this isn't over... and clark's response to being told he's dreaming?

A simple powerful closure: superman is living for some lofty ideals .. but their ones worth aspiring towards, to neve rstop fighting for.. ever.

What's So Funny is an excellent story. It suffers here and there from it's short run time, but still serves as an excellent response to critics of superman while not trying to be patronizing. The grungy art fits the tone of the story and the climax is a thing of beauty. check this one out if you can find it

Next Time: It's Superman Vs teh Elitie. Yes again. This time on the medium sized screen as Kelly expands his story into a full blown animated film.

[thesouppond]

Idk if anyone's gonna see this but uh LIFE/BLOG UPDATE FROM ALETH

What am I doing exactly? IM FINALLY STARTING PROGRESS ON MY BIG PROJECT WOOO. I've started putting together thumbnails and sketches for the big Genlock fancomic series I've got planned! Here's a sneak peak

I've been putting it off because I've generally felt that my skill level isn't where it needs to be to do it justice. I've watched so many tutorials and tried to do so many things. I was originally gonna do concept art for every character and every outfit but I gave up on that pretty quickly just because it was too tedious to keep going. And honestly I was doing them before I settled on a manga-like art style so they look completely different anyways. Basically I've just decided I'm just gonna fuckin send it and do the thing and learn as I go. I think I'll be documenting my progress and process here as I go, so hopefully I can keep myself accountable with this. I'll tag these updates with #SoupsUpdates.

The hope is I'll get my prologue chapters done sometime in the next month or so? And slowly have them queued to go out while I work on the main chapters. Everything's written, it's just gotta be drawn. This is entirely new to me, and I'm also a full time uni student juggling a casual job too, so I'm not gonna be able to draw as much as I want to but hopefully it goes well anyways. I just wanna do my best and have fun, and that's what we're gonna do here :) Plus I'm going to comicon in two weeks as Val/entina! And that's been a joy to organise haha

Hopefully we get some people coming along for the ride, but even if I get one person who hops on the train with me I'll be glad :) I love these characters, and I'll be damned if I don't try at least to patch over what hbo and wb did to them.

[mysweetgirl2-love]

Baring - Xiao x Reader (softtober prompt #1)

well, well, well, here we are again. I'm gonna try one more time to ACTUALLY commit to a prompt list and write. Hopefully nothing too long, lord only knows that's the reason I never complete these because I spend too much time on some of them.

If you don't know what "Softtober" is, basically a I took a list of kinktober prompts and worked them so that they aren't smut :D cuz' I can't write smut LMAO.

If you would like the original list, here's a link!

So, without further ado, prompt #1 is: Angry Talk, written with Xiao!

Hope I do the character justice, enjoy! Word Count: 2.5k

✦✧✦✧

“Agh—Hey! Watch it!” The smaller man snapped, canines bared in your direction as you wrung out a washcloth into the basin to your right.

“Oh, quit your whining…” You hush, delicately picking his arm back up to pull it closer, “the more you resist, the longer this is just gonna take~”

“I don’t care. You're lucky, you know, I didn’t have to show up in that star.” The legendary adeptus pouted before you, his anger unquelled. Not used to this kind of care, nor attention, in his many years of existing on this earth.

It wasn’t like he was one to be coddled, insisting he do everything by himself or nothing would be done right. That was the impression you at least gained from the brief moments of interacting with the individual while going through your journey as the traveler. 

It wasn’t until recently, when you had taken gathered primogems did you spend them on trying to bring his being back home. 

Always drawn to his stand-offish nature, Xiao was never one to jump at the opportunity of being all buddy-buddy with you. It wasn’t like you had much of a chance before to connect with the yaksha, he was gone whenever the danger was defeated or the instance no longer required his attention. 

So, as you liked to believe fate had planned all along, when wishing on stars brought people into your life, he was rather quick to fall for you. A golden star whooshing him down and brightening your path, it was an easy transition into your team all things considered. Even he still claimed to have qualms with being redeemed from the sky, but Kaeya assured you he was just being stubborn.

“I know…” You finally sighed while wiping with the cloth at his arm, the soft material ghosting over his tattoo that was still dying down from the burst he used in your last fight. “But you did, and I’m happy that you’re here.”

“Tch, stop being sappy. It ticks me off.” 

You couldn’t help but mindlessly giggle at the god’s angry tone, delicately swiping the cloth over his shoulder and up towards his neck. It was a very personal setting, you’d have to admit, but even with the angry words and indifferent attitude, you believed it was entirely meant to be.

Only you ever spoke to Xiao about the things he would consider meaningless, the rest of your team members either not entirely caring to interact, or merely they just find him too intimidating. Not you, no matter what he tried you always were at his side.

Xiao leaned his head over to give you and the cloth more access to his skin, resisting the urge to hum as he couldn’t deny how good it felt against his prickling skin. The hatred hurt so deeply each time he used it to his advantage, stinging and singing every nerve end he possessed. So, though he would pray to himself at night you hadn’t realized, he couldn’t help but feel grateful for how careful you always were when it came to him.

“Feeling better?” You muttered when the silence had hung in the air for too long of a time. The cloth left his skin, his beady, yellow eyes slowly falling open to the floor. He deeply sighed, slowly lifting his head to finally peer over at you.

“Does it matter?” Still unable to bring himself to be kind, and the guilt ran deep… but how could he wrap someone like you into a being as dark as he was. “I don’t know why you choose to care so much.”

“Stop it with that.” You scoffed, standing from his side. His gaze flew up to watch as you stood now over him, and he was panicked you were too quickly going to walk away. Instead, the warm smile returned to your features, and you had to lightly chuckle, “I’ll always care about you, you’re my team member! It would be wrong of me not to take care of you.”

His brow creased, a misunderstood look reflecting off his features, “It would save you a lot of trouble…”

“Not really, actually.” You immediately corrected, taking the bowl and walking towards the small bathroom linked to the room. “I don’t find this small task to be troubling at all—not when you and the others use your power in protecting me.”

“We don’t fight just for you,” Xiao retorted, not wanting to feel like his silent happiness now relied on your survival. “We’re fighting to save Teyvat!”

“Right, no! I know—“ Your head peeked out from behind the doorway, a nervous smile pulling at the edges of your mouth, “I didn’t mean it to sound so selfish…”

“Well, watch what you say next time.” 

There was a pause, and quietly you start to laugh. As always, Xiao too stubborn and too frustrated to not let little things go unchecked.

“Will do, mighty yaksha.” You cheer quietly, beginning to rinse the rest of the basin out in the sink.

While the water ran, Xiao returned his gaze to the wooden floors of the Inn. He knew this place better than anyone he now was “forced” to travel with, but it all felt so different now that you were here. Here in the room, here in his world, here in what was left of his heart. 

Ever since you first provoked a meeting with him, arguably, you had proven to him with your free words and bright smile that you were a reliable and valiant fighter—with or without him. He admired that about you, he was happy you allowed him to feel something. 

Pretending to be annoyed was progressively becoming more of a challenge, you were just too kind in the wake of all his sharp comments and dark aura. He knew that hatred ruled him, fueled him in powerful ways that no mere “appreciation” he felt for you could overcome. But, he wouldn’t deny that your presence already made it easier.

Somehow, the pain wasn’t as sharp, no longer ran as deep into him. He was full of a new warmth, especially in the moments like these where you so delicately helped take care of him. You started to radiate your own glow like the star he befell you on, burn bright in his gaze and solidify a sense of safety in his chest. Something he had never felt in his hundreds of years of existence. 

His shoulders were still slightly sore, but he didn’t mind them as much now that you had tended to them. He lifted his armored hand and gently swiped at the armor plate that rested on his shoulder. It easily came undone with the wave of his hand, falling lightly to the mattress as his hand now gently massaged at the newfound skin.

You didn’t pause coming back into the room, wiping your hands lightly on your pants and humming a light tune to yourself before even beginning to notice the drastic change in Xiao’s demeanor. But, he made it no rush in himself to try and cover that up. At some point, he would break… but he’d much rather open that door for you rather for the moment to bust it in on him. 

He uttered your name, the light humming in your throat abruptly halting as you paused. He sharply turned up to you, sharp and burning yellow eyes boring into your figure. They reflected a newfound emotion, something you never expected from Xiao.

“Everything okay?” You murmured hesitantly, willing yourself to breath even in such a breathtaking look he held. 

“Yes. I’m perfectly fine.” He hummed, gently scooting to the side and presenting a space close to him even if the rest of the bed was open. “…Was just wondering if you’d like to sit with me.”

You blinked, shocked for lack of a better word. Not expecting any of this from the adeptus who was always so passionate on being able to handle himself.

“…Why?” The question wasn’t malicious, it was genuine curiosity. Xiao straightened up, visibly surprised, blinking in arguable disbelief when you made no attempt to counter yourself. 

“It—Does it matter?” He eventually growled out, reluctant to respond as if the soft manner he was overcome with would dull his edge. Another void in allowance on his end. “You didn’t even answer the question.”

“Didn’t realize you were asking?” You pushed further, clearly a tease, and clearly leaving him unamused.

Seconds merely passed as you both only watched the other, until Xiao scoffed and he began turning away, “Nevermind… forget it.”

“Oh, woah. Wait,” you are already heading in his direction, leaning over and carefully falling into the spot he made. Your legs were instantly pressed against his, Xiao stiffening at the point of contact before bringing his attention back to you. You smiled, tilting your head in encouragement, “I was just teasing… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Xiao was stunned for the nth time when it came to you. A mere human, granted with elemental abilities, brought him so easily to such a tender state. Where his heart felt like it were in his throat, and he couldn’t tear his senses away from you. Angry talk was all he ever felt was a prominent defense mechanism—and still, it really did only last so long.

Your shoulder gently nudges at his own, the newly bared one, and now you notice this much too. “Hey? When did that happen?”

He follows your lead, staring down at the pale skin he hadn’t seen in quite some time. And something so simple felt meaningful in that way, bringing the yaksha an undeniable warmth in his chest that you were so attentive to him.

“Now. I took it off while you were in the bathroom.”

“Oh…” you start to reach for the shoulder, suddenly stopping when you felt maybe you were overstepping a boundary, “is it hurting you?”

“Not necessarily.” He shrugged, using his own movement to subconsciously close the proximity between his hand and your skin, “Just… found it uncomfortable if I’m laying down.”

“Ah.” You didn’t need to hear anything more from him, “I’m sure it is.”

He nods, it goes silent. You can’t help but let your eyes fall to where your legs gently rested on one another. It warms your heart and you can’t stop it from bringing a smile to your face. Xiao’s watching it unfold in front of him, finally resting his eyes beneath their lids he snorts. It’s a humored noise, ghosting a laugh.

“C’mon…” a hand grasps over your shoulder, folding you over swiftly and pressing you into the silkened chest of the yaksha. His robes pressing gently and smoothing over your arm. “You’ve been working too hard.”

Though startled at how sudden this all felt, he made a valid point. All you did was work for your team members, and why wouldn’t you? They did so much for you too, it was a way to show you appreciated them and the lengths to which they fought for you.

“Xiao, I—“

“Talking is considered working, in my book.” He quickly interrupted, squeezing gently against your arm, “Hush.”

Quiet again, you still felt stiff and unnatural against the man beneath you. He too was having his own second-guessing’s as to how he got you both in this situation. He was desperately trying to stay true to his action and not admit that it was a mistake, even if his subconscious was throwing a rampage at how he chose to ignore it for once.

Right when he was about to apologize for pulling you in, you began to readjust. Xiao, somehow stiffer, didn’t move a muscle as you relaxed against him. Your hand laying on his chest in a small fist while you heaved a gentle sigh.

“You’re not as comfy as I’d hope… you should also relax, oh-mighty yaksha.”

His mouth hardens into a firm line with your tease, his heart not being able to help but leap at the sound of your laughter following your own joke. That was another obnoxious thing he found endearing about you, even if the rest of the world remained silent, you always found a way to laugh at yourself.

“Right.” He forces out, willing himself to exhale his held breath as you further morphed into his body. 

The warmth you also radiated gave him a rush, pressing silent promises of belonging into his being and making him feel new sensations. Safe, at home, welcomed. You were all the things he never would admit he wanted, and yet it was like you knew that without him having to highlight it.

“See,” you huskily whispered to him, Xiao perking at the sound of you saying more, “angry words or not, you can’t deny this is nice…”

“Never said otherwise…” he hummed, now studying your face as sleep started to ebb at your consciousness. Dazed and tired, your eyes were lidded and easy to watch now that he wasn’t being observed by them so closely. “You’re not so bad, my stubborn traveler.”

“Ah, so that’s the name you’re going with?” 

The question’s tease breaks through Xiao’s bitter demeanor, the adeptus softly chuckling—and you could’ve sworn that was a quick dream you briefly crossed into while lying against him. Then again, you felt the vibration in his chest and recognized your surroundings enough that it couldn’t have been your mind’s formulation of such an instance. 

You grinned, “I like it.”

“Yeah. It’s fitting…” he sighed, mindlessly letting his thumb trace over your skin. “Get rest, who knows what adventures you’ll be dragging us through tomorrow.”

Not needed to be told twice, you shut your eyes and tried to mindlessly wander off into the rest of your subconscious. Xiao remained vigilant, knowing sleep was a jester’s game for him—and if he were to give in, it wouldn’t end well. He was content, knowing he’d much rather remain awake laying at your side than also following you to rest. It allowed him to stay alert, protect you if it really came down to it.

When he was almost sure that you had fallen asleep, he slowly pulled you closer and encased you in both his arms. Breathing softly, carefully in making sure to let you sleep, he basked in your everything. Smiling for the first time in centuries.

“Angry talk, or not… it’s just because I care for you.” He hummed, “I need to keep you safe, it’s my duty on top of many others.”

Of course, you didn’t respond. He thanked the god’s you didn’t, he needed you asleep to speak his mind. Lightly, he leaned closer, his lips just barely brushing against your hairline in the precious tranquility. He couldn’t help his heart, so full of hate, that it lightened on you. Xiao’s smile grew at how easy you made him come undone, and right then he pressed the chastest of kisses to your skin—pulling away to further bring your head beneath his chin.

“Sleep well, stubborn…” he breathed, committing himself to studying the wooden walls for the rest of the night. You in the safest place he could imagine.

And, finally, it felt like he had found peace.

[basket-of-cats-and-witches]

Comfort Food

Ahahahahaha I’m finally posting Dragon Age stuff to this blog, because I need to get it out of my system.  Beware, I’m playing a whole lot of DA2 at the moment.  This is based off of something that I mentioned in a discord server I’m in, and then it fueled a greater need to write it out. Featuring my warrior Silas Hawke and Anders.  “Okay Anders (I'm in act 3) literally just said in the snappiest tone "do you really need me for this?" And I'm playing Silas atm who is romancing Anders, and oof, the feelings behind that. Like Silas just stopping mid-stride and quietly looking back at Anders, his eyes sad and just in the quietest voice being like, "I think we're done adventuring for today if that helps, Anders. I'll speak to you all later." And then ducking his head politely and heading off and leaving Varric and Fenris just judgingly looking at Anders who definitely knows he fucked up“ Anyway, enjoy what that message wrought. 

The smell of something savory and warm filled Anders' senses as he walked in. It was almost familiar in a way, soothing his fraying nerves almost instantly. Someone was cooking dinner, and it seemed it wasn't Orana. In fact, Orana seemed to be in the dining room, setting up the table. She glanced up and squeaked in surprise when she saw him, bobbing a quick curtsy before scuttling out of sight. He sighed. She'd gotten slightly comfortable with him over the years, but mages still made her nervous. At least she was polite about it, unlike some broody folks. Anders' attention was drawn to the kitchen, where he could hear humming. It was rare that Silas Hawke sang where anyone could witness it, but it graced Anders' ears on occasions like tonight. He swallowed nervously, something deep in his gut fluttering with anxiety. He had definitely hurt Silas's feelings earlier. Now it was time to own up to it and apologize. He set his staff aside, slipping into the kitchen. Silas hummed as he attended to a pot, his hair loose and curling ever-so-slightly. His posture was completely relaxed. Anders cleared his throat. Silas turned, his expression warm. At the sight of his lover, the corner of his eyes crinkled happily. “Welcome home, my love.” He kissed his cheek before returning his attention to the pot, grabbing a wooden spoon. Anders blinked. He had expected disappointment or anger. Not this. “Silas,” he began hesitantly. “Listen, about today-” Hawke turned back, holding out the wooden spoon, cutting him off swiftly. “Taste this, please.” “But I-” “Taste it. Tell me if it needs anything?” Silas looked at his lover hopefully. Anders chickened out, his apology dying in his throat. He dutifully opened his mouth. The warm taste of potato soup made him sigh softly. It was creamy, the herbs gently enhancing the dish without overwhelming it. And there was something else… He looked quizzically up at Silas, swallowing. “Is there bacon in this? How did you get bacon? It’s expensive!” Hawke looked sheepish. “Well, on my way home, I helped out a farmer trying to sell his wares. Some of the Guard were heckling him about permits and the like, so I fetched Aveline personally. You should have seen it. They practically shit themselves in fear.” He chuckled softly, moving to stir the pot once more. “It turned out the permits the guardsmen were looking for were for the selling of textiles, not animal products. The farmer was so grateful, he gave me a pound of it. So don’t worry, you’ll be sick of it soon enough.” Anders shook his head, smiling fondly. Here at home, he could feel Justice settle. Silas seemed to be a calming presence to them both. In some ways, it scared him how easy it was to set aside the chaos outside the Hawke Estate. “So, what made you decide to cook? Not that I’m saying it isn’t nice to give Orana a break every once in a while, but she genuinely seems to like it.” Anders watched as Silas’s ears began to turn pink. “Well,” Hawke mumbled, trying to keep the note of shyness out of his voice, “Earlier today you seemed…stressed. I was worried for you. So I thought I’d make you something nice, something comforting. Thus, potato soup.” He gestured to the pot. “Mother used to make it for my siblings and me when we had a little extra and could afford cream and herbs.” Silas smiled softly at the memory. “It was something I remember fondly. So I thought maybe I could share that fondness with you, and comfort you in the process.” Anders stared at him, mouth agape. “I-” he sputtered. “Silas! I yelled at you! I was horrible, and mean, and you made me soup? You- I- I was so worried that I’d hurt your feelings, you should be mad at me right now! I half expected you to make me sleep in the library!” Silas shook his head, grabbing a pad of cloth and wrapping it around the handle of the pot, moving it from the hearth to a kitchen counter. “What would that have accomplished?” His voice was gentle as he grabbed bowls from the cabinets. “You were stressed, my love. Rare is it when you raise your voice to me. Yes, it did hurt my feelings. I don’t like being yelled at, and I’m certain Varric and Fenris won’t be as forgiving, in their own protective ways. But making you sleep somewhere else would have just resulted in poor sleep for both of us, and if I know you well, which I think I do,” Silas turned to look directly at Anders, setting the cloth aside and taking the mage’s hands in his own. “You’ve already been tearing yourself apart over this. You’ve already been punishing yourself for it. You’re tired, my love. You won’t tell me what you’re up to, having me fetch ingredients in the most interesting of places, asking me to distract Mother Elthina while you sneak around the Chantry. I know you’re doing something that seems to be soul-rending in nature. I will not add to your burden. You need a pillar of support, not another voice shouting in your ear.” He gently kissed Anders, the act tender and swift. “I forgive you for shouting at me if that’s what you need. Personally, I don’t think there’s anything to forgive, I don’t believe you did anything wrong. But I do know you haven’t been eating, because you only ever eat at home. And you haven’t been home. So let me do something nice for you, so you can replenish your energy to be able to continue fighting.” Anders looked down at their hands, his vision blurry. “I…” He swallowed hard. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, my love.” Silas smiled softly. “You don’t? Next time you see your hands covered in a patient’s blood as they gasp with life on your table, or shuttle desperate people through tunnels towards freedom, remember this. It may not be much, but you deserve this. You deserve the world.” He pulled Anders’ knuckles up to his lips, kissing them with a tenderness that made Anders’ heart ache. “You are worthy of love, Anders.” Hawke pressed the mage’s hands to his chest, where somewhere below the surface of his skin, Silas’s heart beat strong. “You are more than worthy of my love. If it is in my power, I will give you whatever I can to help your cause.” He let go. “Now come on, Anders. Let’s go have dinner, and you can tell me more about your adventures at Amaranthine. Varric keeps hinting at stories you’ve told him, and I feel left out.” Anders laughed gently, helping collect bowls of soup. Below his skin, Justice hummed contently and felt a little less like Vengeance than usual.

[anonymousewrites]

There's a Will; There's a Way (Book 4) Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen: Clash at Sea

            Fukuchi’s sword sliced through Ranpo. Instead of blood spilling out, light did. Ranpo was using the book Poe had given him. It absorbed him slowly inside.

            “Listen,” said Ranpo. “Make sure you escape. You have no chance of winning.”

            Poe’s book! (Y/N) drew it over to Atsushi in an instant. We must protect it. Ranpo is going inside!

            “One more thing, this old man’s, Kamui’s ability is the weapon he holds.” Ranpo disappeared into the book.

            Akira, (Y/N), and Atsushi were left, tense and staring at Fukuchi, whose sword was still drawn. Fukuchi sighed.

            “As expected, I got discovered by the kid,” said Fukuchi. “Things may look this way, but in my military days, I’d be called ‘The Man of a Hundred Faces’ in undercover missions. Am I past my prime?”

            “You’re Kamui?” hissed (Y/N). She clenched her fists, which were glowing with green light.

            “Well…about that,” said Fukuchi. “My face muscles are tired. Let me just rest a little.” He leaned against the railing.

            Akira growled in annoyance.

            “I’ve done some heavy stress drinking, and my hair is falling out more,” said Fukuchi. “Good grief, acting like a different person is bad for your health.” His eyes darkened. “Although, it’ll be just six more days of patience.”

            “You’re despicable,” said (Y/N). The evil I felt from Sigma’s information…it was him this whole time. “Why would you do this? You’re regarded as the epitome of justice. You’re the president’s friend!”

            “Friend?” Fukuchi frowned and put his head in his hand. “Yes, of course, a friend. Until a certain point, we were. However, Fukuzawa didn’t go into the battlefield.” He sat down on the ground. “And so, our paths were divided for eternity.” He glanced behind them. “Oh, look, land already. Is that fine, detectives?”

            (Y/N) just narrowed her eyes.

            “I apologize for having taken advantage of you the same way, but you have two options now. Confront or escape,” said Fukuchi. “Neither of them an easy road. Because you, who know my identity, I can’t afford to let you return alive.”

            Atsushi’s eyes widened.

            “Don’t make that pitiable face like some new recruit.” Fukuchi reached inside his sleeve. “At least, for your own sake. Shall I make the situation clear for you?” He held up a slip of folded paper.

            “That’s—!” gasped (Y/N).

            “The ‘Page.’ The reality-altering device and source of everything,” said Fukuchi. “If you could take this from me, everything would be as before. The Detective Agency would be saved.”

            Ranpo said we have no chance of winning here…and he’s probably right, but…the solution is right there! It’s so so tempting… thought (Y/N).

            Footsteps echoed across the deck.

            “The passengers have noticed you,” said Fukuchi. “You have no time until the police get here.”

            Akira and Atsushi looked to (Y/N). Whatever decision she made, they’d have her back.

            The Agency needs to know who Kamui is, so we need to escape. He’s going to fight us either way. We’d have a better chance of survival if we just ran. We’d be prepared for the next fight with knowledge of our enemy. He’s already gotten so many out of the way. Dazai’s face flashed in her mind. We need to keep together. But the fight is here. Fukuchi is going to come after us either way. So… (Y/N) flexed her hands. Sparks of emerald swirled around them. Her decision was evident. She was prepared to fight. If we run, he’ll follow us. We have to fight our way out right here, right now.

            “Ho. You put on your combat face,” said Fukuchi, standing up. “It seems I’ll be killing you all right here. Dostoevsky will be…disappointed for the loss of Miss (L/N) to say the least, but I’m afraid I must ensure the plan’s success.”

            “Hopefully, he’ll be rotting in prison for the rest of his life,” muttered (Y/N).

            “We’re not intimidated by you,” said Atsushi. “It doesn’t matter how much you threaten us; we’re not running.”

            “Very brave,” said Fukuchi. “But…how are you going to fight on that leg, tiger boy?”

            Atsushi fell to the ground, his right leg cut off. Fukuchi’s sword dripped with blood. Nobody had even seen him move. Their eyes widened.

            “Why the shock?” commented Fukuchi. “You heard about my ability from that kid.”

            His ability is that weapon…! He can increase its efficiency! thought (Y/N). She narrowed her eyes. I’ll need to stay vigilant.

            “That just about compares to the difficulties that appear in my autobiography. I, too, have my wounded,” said Fukuchi. His sword hung loosely at his side. “People who have felt true pain either grow strong or falter. It is a catalyst.”

            (Y/N) cried out. A sharp pain ran through her arm; a bloody slash appeared. A second appeared on her leg. Without being able to see his sword, it was impossible to fight back, especially with so little experience against him. Fukuchi hadn’t severed any limbs, but moving was difficult. He was toying with them. Akira leapt towards him at breakneck speed. Her eyes were black. A miniscule bit of silver flashed, and she leaned to the side, barely avoiding an attack. Fukuchi blocked her and sliced down again, causing her to jump back. As she still moved backwards, two long wounds were cut into her skin and caused her to stumble.

            “One swing of the blade brings agony, one swing of the blade eradicates it,” said Fukuchi. Shadows danced in his eyes. “Shall I give you peace now?”

            “No thanks, I have a few things to do before I die,” muttered Akira, pushing herself onto her arms.

            “I would find no peace knowing my friends are in danger,” said (Y/N), tensing her fingers. Pale emerald snaked around Fukuchi’s sword as a precaution.

            “I’m not done yet!” growled Atsushi.

            “I’m afraid none of you have a choice,” said Fukuchi, drawing nearer.

            “There’s no need to make things easier for them,” said a new voice from above. Akutagawa knelt on the boat roof looking down. “Because every time the Agency is pushed into an adverse situation, they come back a more bothersome enemy. That’s my advice.”

            “Akutagawa?!” cried Atsushi. “Why are you here?!”

            “Dazai’s orders,” said Akutagawa. “What other reason would I have?”

            “God, he’s annoying me already, hopefully he’ll shut his mouth and actually help,” grumbled Akira.

            “To conceal from both enemies and allies, collect information, and, as long as the smoke signal hasn’t risen, to provide no assistance at all,” said Akutagawa. “Those were the orders.”

            Ranpo figured out one of Dazai’s safeguards. Or Dazai left it intentionally for Ranpo to figure it out. It’s hard to know with those two, thought (Y/N).

            “They multiplied…” groaned Fukuchi. “I had to deal with Fukuzawa’s favorite, then the tiger boy, Dostoevsky’s beloved, the devil girl, and now it’s another guy who will be difficult to silence.”

            “Rejoice, then,” said Akutagawa. “Silencing me won’t be necessary. I have no intention of revealing your identity to the outside.”

            “Is that so?” remarked Fukuchi.

            “Yes, my job is to feed the fish.” Akutagwa’s eyes became cruel and slightly insane. “I’ll shred you and scatter you into the sea. A mastermind’s meat will certainly nourish them well.”

            “I take it back, I like gothboy,” said Akira.

            Fukuchi narrowed his eyes and began to respond when he was attacked. Akira had already bounced back from her injury.

            “Woah!” He jumped back. “I was in the middle of a conversation! Do you not know courtesy?! I’m your elder, you know!”

            “I don’t really respect people trying to kill me,” shot back Akira.

            “You guys, we need to focus on staying alive!” cried Atsushi. “We need to get back to the others!”

            “It’s you who doesn’t understand the circumstances, weretiger,” said Akutagawa. “Don’t you understand how this is a good chance?”

            “What?” asked Atsushi.

            An explosion rocked the ship.

            “I’ve destroyed the engine room,” said Akutagawa. “If we arrive at port, we’ll be surrounded by the police. In that case, it’s best to ensure this ship never reaches it.”

            “Not much of a choice here,” said (Y/N), standing up. “But…none of us can get reinforcements.” She looked at Fukuchi. “Including him. I suppose that is a good opportunity. It’s the one time he’ll be isolated.”

            “But…can we do that? He’s so powerful, and there are only four of us,” said Atsushi.

            “Do we need more than that?” said (Y/N). She stood up in determination.

            “So, you’ve made your decision?” said Fukuchi.

            “Yes,” said (Y/N).

            “That saves me trouble,” said Fukuchi. “Well, truth is, I got seasick. I’ve been feeling like I’ll see my breakfast again.” He held the railing “Now, then…” He snapped the metal apart. “Whatever road you chose, I’m blessing you. Young fighters, walk the road that leaves no regret in your soul. And may whoever perishes, perish all the more in spirit.”

            “You’re trying to be cool and inspiring, but you’re just annoying and depressing,” said Akira. “Hey, gothboy, whaddya say we start this thing?”

            “You know my name,” hissed Akutagawa.

            “Uh-huh, whatever,” said Akira.

            Akutagawa grumbled and tossed Atsushi’s leg to him. “Thirty seconds, fix your leg.”

            Akutagawa and Akira launched at Fukuchi while (Y/N) reached out a hand to stop him from using his sword. He raised the metal pipe instead.

            That counts as a weapon! “Duck!”

            Akutagawa leaned back; Akira dropped and rolled. The pipe cleaved away part of the ship. Fukuchi swung it down again. Akira caught it with one hand. She winced from the force but dug her claws in. As her ability completely began to kick in, her horns curly out from her head, and her jaw slightly unhinged as her teeth sharpened. Akira was less than human.

            “I’ll rip that face off!” growled Akutagawa, taking advantage of Fukuchi being disarmed.

            Fukuchi let go of the pipe and grabbed Akutagawa’s leg, throwing him over his shoulder. The mafioso created a crater in the wall behind. Turning, Fukuchi went to grab his sword, but (Y/N) threw it to the side and dragged Akutagawa away before he could be hurt.

            “So…the one I need to get rid of first…is the long-distance fighter,” said Fukuchi darkly.

            He stomped on the ground (with less force than he could have). The reverberation sent his opponents flying and his sword into the air. He caught his sword and sliced down. They were all in the air; they couldn’t dodge. (Y/N) flattened her hands together, and debris came together into a dense shield. It was sliced apart, but in the subsequent cloud of dust gave them a chance to escape over the side of the ship. Akira grabbed (Y/N) and clawed her way into a lower deck while Atsushi and Akutagawa got into an upper deck on the other side.

            “We need to get back to them!” said (Y/N).

            “Where do you think they’re headed?” asked Akira.

            “Back of the ship is farthest from where Fukuchi was,” said (Y/N).

            “He’s probably realized that, too.”

            “We need to hurry, then.”

            They ran through the halls. Unfortunately, they came across guards who raised their guns. A storm of bullets sailed towards them. (Y/N) flicked two fingers on each hand to the side. The projectiles embedded in the walls.

            “Wow, you’re getting good!” Akira knocked out the guards. “You didn’t use your whole hand!”

            “Now is not the time!” (Y/N) threw the men into a cupboard with a sweep of her hand. The lock clicked as she curled a finger.

            They ran onward. Through corridors, up stairs, through guards who slowed them down, until they reached the stern. (Y/N) threw open the doors. As she did, foam from a fire extinguisher rushed in. The cannister had been cut in half by Fukuchi, who stood over Akutagawa. The mafioso lacked his coat, and Atsushi, who lay against the railing a ways away, clutched his severed arm. A hole in the floor lay between the three.

            “In your dying moments, you choose actions over words? Bravo,” said Fukuchi.

            The katana sliced through Akutagawa’s neck. He fell.

            “You damn fool. Hurry and go,” said Akutagawa to Atsushi, a small smile on his face.

            It had all happened in a second. Akira and (Y/N) had to no chance to stop it, not with the smoke that filled their vision and not with arriving right as Akutagawa died.

            “No!” cried Atsushi, trying to scramble forward.

            (Y/N) tugged her hand towards her. Encircled with emerald, Atsushi fell down the hole. The start of a machine ((Y/N) assumed it to be a submarine) echoed up.

            Fukuchi turned and raised his eyebrow. “So, you’ve arrived! I thought you would’ve escaped by now.”

            “We knew you’d go after them,” said (Y/N). “We had to try to help.”

            “A fruitless endeavor,” said Fukuchi.

            “The weretiger escaped; I wouldn’t call that ‘fruitless,’ ” said Akira.

            “I’ll simply dispose of you and then the boy,” said Fukuchi. “It will take him time to navigate the submarine.”

            (Y/N) flexed her fingers and shook out her arms. “We’ll stop you, then.”

            Fukuchi frowned and swung his precious weapon. (Y/N) and Akira dodged to the side. Akira clawed at the ground, letting debris and rocks spin in the air. (Y/N) curled her hands into fists. Large boulders formed in the air. Even as Fukuchi sliced through the air, the boulders split and reformed around his blade. He couldn’t destroy them. When he landed a hit, (Y/N) could just remake the rocks. Akira kept giving her materials, adding metal scraps she clawed from the pipes and rails to the mix. As the debris spun around Fukuchi faster and faster, it began to flick him, scratch him, wound him. Thunk! A large boulder formed the moment before a grain of dirt hit him. The impact sent him flying. Akira jumped over and grabbed his throat, digging her claws in. Fukuchi was about to die. They had won—Silver glinted in the light.

Ḃ̵̡̛͓̘͚̝̘͇͊̔̋̓̿̏͂͆̏̌̕̚a̶̳͉̟͗ç̴̢͇͖̣̯̲͔̞̦͉̋͆̑̿̈́̕͠k̴̜̥͙̲̓

            Fukuchi frowned and swung his precious weapon. (Y/N) and Akira dodged to the side. Akira clawed at the ground, letting debris and rocks spin in the air. (Y/N) curled her hands into fists. Large boulders formed in the air. Even as Fukuchi sliced through the air, the boulders split and reformed around his blade. He couldn’t destroy them. When he landed a hit, (Y/N) could just remake the rocks. Akira kept giving her materials, adding metal scraps she clawed from the pipes and rails to the mix. As the debris spun around Fukuchi faster and faster, it began to flick him, scratch him, wound him. Sching! (Y/N) coughed up blood as a sword pushed through her stomach. She crumpled to the ground.

            “(Y/N)!” cried Akira, rushing to her side.

            “An excellent strategy,” said Fukuchi. “It played to your strengths and my weaknesses. Dostoevsky’s reports claimed you couldn’t manipulate what you couldn’t see. A true surprise attack. However—” He examined his sword “—as long as I have this, I can’t lose.”

            (Y/N) struggled to her feet. “Everyone…can lose.”

            “Yes, and today, you shall,” said Fukuchi.

            His wrist twitched minutely. The tiniest flash of silver passed through the air. Akira rolled to the side; (Y/N) curled her fingers and turned her wrist. The sword turned to the ground and embedded in the ground away from Fukuchi. He blinked. He had barely moved, and yet (Y/N) had caught it. She was getting stronger the longer she had to fight.

            “You saw it…” murmured Fukuchi.

            “That is how my ability works,” quipped (Y/N). Lie. I didn’t see it. I could just…feel it. I just knew where it was.

            “No matter,” said Fukuchi. He pulled a piece of railing away. “I am still stronger than you.” He struck.

            Akira caught it and tore off a piece. “What a surprise! So am I~!”

            She threw the rail at Fukuchi. He dropped his pipe and lunged towards his blade. With his ability, Fukuchi cut through the makeshift spear. His vision temporarily obscured; Akira leapt at him. Fukuchi smirked and brought his sword up. At the last moment, she dropped and slid between Fukuchi’s legs, raking her claws into his legs. He fell to his knees. Green light smashed the two pipes he had sliced through into his body. Fukuchi lifted his wrist to slice his opponents to pieces (even at this distance it was possible, due to his gift). (Y/N) quirked her curled wrists. A crack sounded. Fukuchi’s wrists were broken, useless. It had all happened in a perfectly timed moment. Akira and (Y/N) were a truly monstrous team. Given time, they could be

            “You are fools…in war, you must kill when given the chance…” said Fukuchi. “You cannot bring yourself to kill.”

            “No, I cannot,” said (Y/N) honestly. “But she can.”

            Akira stabbed her claws through Fukuchi’s chest. He coughed up blood. His eyes dimmed. They had won—A finger twitched; metal flashed.

Ḃ̵̡̛͓̘͚̝̘͇͊̔̋̓̿̏͂͆̏̌̕̚a̶̳͉̟͗ç̴̢͇͖̣̯̲͔̞̦͉̋͆̑̿̈́̕͠k̴̜̥͙̲̓

            She threw the rail at Fukuchi. He dropped his pipe and lunged towards his blade. With his ability, Fukuchi cut through the makeshift spear. His vision temporarily obscured; Akira leapt at him. (Y/N) cried out as a sword stabbed through her hand. One of the rails she held up clattered to the floor as she lost control. In the same moment, Fukuchi redirected his sword as Akira dropped to the ground. It pierced her still-healing wound. She howled at the pain. Blood pooled beneath her.

            “Akira!”

            (Y/N) threw the remaining pipe at Fukuchi. He sliced it to pieces; she redirected them. The metal shards embedded in his skin. Fukuchi gritted his teeth. He was once again on the losing side. He could feel the bones in his arms straining. They snapped. Akira pulled the sword from her stomach and thrust it up. It pierced Fukuchi. He grabbed it, trying to pull it out, but she pushed it in tighter. They had won—A blade glinted.

Ḃ̵̡̛͓̘͚̝̘͇͊̔̋̓̿̏͂͆̏̌̕̚a̶̳͉̟͗ç̴̢͇͖̣̯̲͔̞̦͉̋͆̑̿̈́̕͠k̴̜̥͙̲̓

            (Y/N) threw the remaining pipe at Fukuchi. He sliced it to pieces; she redirected them. The metal shards embedded in his skin. Fukuchi gritted his teeth. He was once again on the losing side. He could feel the bones in his arms straining. Pain and blood erupted from (Y/N)’s remaining hand. Fukuchi pulled his sword from Akira’s stomach and slashed it through the air. Blood spilled from (Y/N)’s legs. She collapsed to the ground. Red stained her clothes and sank into the cement below her. She couldn’t move her hands or legs. She was defenseless.

            “You fought to the end as a true soldier,” said Fukuchi. “You have dignity in your death.”

            Akira sank her laws into Fukuchi’s legs. “Don’t touch her!”

            Fukuchi flinched and groaned in annoyance. “I thought you’d weaken by now with the blood you lose.”

            “Fuck you.” Akira’s vision was hazy, and she could feel her fingers going numb as her blood spilled beneath her.

            “I suppose I’ll dispose of you now,” said Fukuchi.

            His boot pressed into Akira’s shoulder, and he prepared to bring his sword down on her. Akira growled and tried to push his boot away. Her movements were strong but sluggish. Fukuchi simply ground his boot into her shoulder. He watched her struggle against him with a determined glint in her eye, one that said she wouldn’t stop fighting until she was dead. Fukuchi had seen such a look before. He had seen it eighteen years ago.

            “Interesting, you remind me of someone I fought long ago,” he said. “She was the only person who came close to stopping my plan until the Agency sprung up.” He tilted his head in consideration. Fukuchi sighed and shook his head. “Nanako shouldn’t have gotten in my way.”

            Nanako…Nanako…Nanako… The name echoed around Akira’s mind. The entire world turned red. Nanako, Nanako, Nanako. Her previous pain dulled. Strength returned to her limbs. Rage filled her mind. Hot, fiery rage. It burned in her mind, never ending. It struck deeper than Akira’s anger towards Mori. He had abandoned her. Fukuchi…had killed her mother.

            “You…You took her away from me!”

            Fukuchi raised an eyebrow. “So you’re the child she worried for? How sad. You ended up as weak as her.”

            The flames of fury rose to greater heights. “Why?!” She knew the answer, but any semblance of logical thought was slipping farther and farther from her grasp with every moment. Rage governed her mind.

            “I did what was necessary. I took the life of one Mori woman to preserve my goals.” His eyes narrowed. “Now, I shall do so again.” He brought down his sword.

            Hell Hath No Fury

            Fukuchi found himself slammed into the side of the ship. Akira had thrown him with strength she hadn’t possessed a moment ago. She stood, shoulders heaving, gift activated. Shadows clung to her as if she was darkness itself. Akira looked up. Her skin had paled to a corpselike complexion. A demented crown of curled horns extended from her forehead and glowed red. Her eyes were not just black, there was nothing. Void of light, emotion, life. They could be mistaken for two holes in her head. Deadly claws replaced her fingers. Sharp teeth glinted from a jaw that seemed inhumanly wide, nearly snakelike.

            In her struggle to push herself up, (Y/N) froze at the sight. It was how Akira’s ability had appeared during the Mukurotoride incident. However, her gift had been a red figure then. Now…(Y/N) could mistake Akira for a Shinigami from the tales of old.

            “Akira…!” cried (Y/N).

            Akira didn’t even seem to register the sound. She leapt towards Fukuchi, who raised his sword. It flew through Akira, but she kept moving. Even with it in her side, she grabbed the hilted and pulled herself closer. Her claws sank into his chest. She wanted to rip his heart out. Fukuchi backhanded her, sending her flying off his saber and to the ground. With a growl of pure menace, Akira stood back up. Blood dripped from her wounds and claws. She looked positively rabid. She attacked again and received another stab. Again and again, she dealt blow after blow to Fukuchi. He returned in kind. He could not send his sword to the past because she just kept coming, no matter how injured she was. Pain had no meaning to her. Akira felt one thing: fury.

            “Akira!” cried (Y/N) again, pushing herself up. She’s going berserk. With this power, she could win here, but… She eyed the ever-increasing number of wounds spilling Akira’s blood. Her body is going to give out. If she had started out like this, she would win. She would last longer than Fukuchi, but like this…even if she wins, she’ll die. And I can’t let Akira die! Not like this! Her arms ached as she lifted them, and her hands hung limp and bloody, immobile and useless. Come on, come on, come on! I need to help her! There’s a Will; There’s a Way! There’s a Will; There’s a Way! There’s a Will; There’s a Way! Somewhere deep inside her, a light sparked. Her ability came alive.

            Akira was flung down the hole into the submarine where Atsushi waited. Fukuchi crashed through walls until he ended up on the other side of the ship. He was a dot in (Y/N)’s vision. Mastering her strength, she rolled into the hole and tumbled down. Atsushi, who had waited for the short period of their fight, closed the hatch with his one hand and started the submarine. Fukuchi couldn’t go after them, not with guards arriving and having to maintain his heroic guise. They were safe for now. At least, from Fukuchi. Below the waves, fury raged on.

[oneoftheprettynerds]

Just My Type: Dark!Steve x Reader (Mob AU)

Chapter 2 in the Lipstick and Crayons Series.

Chapter 1: Welcome to the Darkside

Main Masterlist

A/N: This chapter is 2K words more than the last chapter and I’ve second guessed every single line in this one. This story is getting a lot of traction guys and I’m equal parts happy and scared. Thank you for the nice comments, they do encourage me. Also I’m just ranting feel free to skip this note haha. Your support in any form: like, comment or reblog is appreciated greatly. Also you can dm if you want to be friends, God knows I need those. Hopefully, this chap was worth the wait. Also, I made a poster for this on the main masterlist so check that out, it might be foreshadowing dome plot.

Warning: Eventual Non-Con, Sickening Threats, Mob Themes, Violence, Death, Manipulation, a mild mental breakdown, Cheap Tricks later.

Genres + Characters: Mob AU, Single Parents AU, Steve Rogers x Reader.

Summary: Steve can't ever repay you for what you did. After meeting you, Steve believes his broken family is the missing piece in the puzzle of your own wrecked one. Indebting the crime lord to you has been the biggest mistake of your life, cause now you can't get rid of him, no matter what. Loyalty and favours go a long way in the mob.

Chapter 2: Just My Type

It had almost been a week since the incident and you had barely gotten a wink of sleep. When you drove back to your house that night, Steve surprisingly didn’t argue as you had expected. After that friend of his whispered something in his ears, you only assumed he was needed elsewhere and you couldn’t be more thankful for that. They escorted you to your car and Steve thanked you with a strained smile, words genuine but eyes calculating. You didn’t even wonder what went inside his head. You were thankful for the peace and quiet of your own car, content to just get out of the area and into your humble abode.

After you put the already asleep Grace to bed, you couldn’t bring yourself to get out of her room. You just sat on the floor beside the bed, hand intertwined with hers as you rested your head beside her tummy on the mattress.

Your adrenaline wore off and your limbs ached as your thoughts finally settled into place, the gravity of the catastrophe a few hours prior hitting you. Tears made their way down your cheeks as you realized that you both could have very well died tonight.

One bullet could have sealed each of your lives and you were basically defenseless had Steve not saved you against the creeping assaulter. You couldn’t commend yourself for even defending yourself against one attacker, the guilt of killing someone harboring in your tired head. Your quiet whimpers eventually wore you out, while Grace’s shallow breaths lulled you to sleep.

You didn’t manage to sleep for long though, every time your eyes closed, horrific images flashed in your mind. A blood curdling scream here, heaps of dead bodies there, with distant exploding sounds all around. You could see men clad in black holding guns to Grace’s head and whensoever you woke up, you just wondered how much more creative your mind could get, making these visuals so realistic.

When 8 AM rolled in, you didn’t wake Grace up even though it was Monday and you had work. You got up, changed into a long tee after a shower and called your office and then her daycare. You knew you would have a hard time going back to your normal life, to become trusting enough to leave her alone.

Your assumption about yourself was right. You took almost the entire week off, which your boss generously allowed you to after hearing your traumatic experience, which soon made the city news headlines. All your colleagues checked on you, almost once in the five day break you took, and sweetly enough offered to bring you anything you needed.

It was kind of them, but none of them could bring you what your heart genuinely craved: peace and assurance that you and Grace would be safe.

Even though Saturdays were off, you did go to work to see what you missed and where to start on again. You went in because you knew that the random spurt of resolution you got in the bathroom to collect your life, wouldn’t last.

To ease back into your normal life, you gathered your guts, called a babysitter and left home. You couldn’t bring yourself to leave Grace at the daycare just yet. One of your good friends offered to come in to the office and help you, even on the weekend and you were quite grateful to him.

When you both decided to take lunch in the nearby dining place, you both got to talking, the conversation obviously originating from ‘How have you been?’ and ‘Is Grace okay?’. You reminisced about how you used a photobooth to hide, grotesquely and uncomfortably chuckling when you remembered Sarah calling you her mom and how her dad saved you all.

You deliberately left the part where you killed someone and Steve shot someone too. You hadn’t come to terms with it yet and you stiffly restricted your mind whenever it tried to go down that lane.

He sensed how the conversation was becoming tense and distressing for you and briskly redirected the topic.

“I hope the dad was hot though?” He wiggled his eyes creepily and you snorted at his vulgarity, light for the first time in days.

“He was easy on the eyes; I will admit that.” You played along, recalling your girlfriends and how you used to ogle people.

“Don’t be a homewrecker though, I don’t support cheating.” He said nonchalantly, checking his phone as a notification bell rang off.

“He’s a widower.”

His eyes snapped up and met yours as his head tilted in confusion. “That’s a strange fact to know about someone you met for a few minutes.”

Steve’s even stranger comment about his dead wife popped in your mind and before you could stop yourself, you blurted that out as well.

“He even said and I quote, ‘She deserved what she got.’” He put his phone down, weirdly amused.

“Ooh Creepy! Do you think he is one of those husbands who kill their wives and bury them in the backyard? The podcasts always say that the psychopaths are visually handsome and charming. And his statement was quite vague and spooky.” He continued munching, and you felt that now Aiden was really paying attention unlike before.

“Steve did have a gun while searching for Sarah, come to think of it.” You drank your tea and awaited his response. What you did not expect was his eyes to widen and worry to cloud his features.

“Um Widower Steve with a toddler Sarah? At the place where The Vices attacked?” He mumbled, grabbing his phone and doing God knows what on it. Your eyebrows furrowed and before you could ask him what was up with his antics, he resumed.

“This is a long shot but I really hope your Steve didn’t look like this.” He positioned the phone in your vision, and you could already tell it was Steve by the sapphire blue of his eyes piercing through the screen into your soul. The picture was a month or two old, his hair was much longer when you met him than in the photo.

“This is him.” Your eyes met Aiden’s and worry visibly took over his features as his forehead creased and jaw tense.

He looked around the restaurant, finding it empty in the afternoon. He leaned and whispered, “This Steve of yours is dangerous.”

You interrupted Aiden, even though you already knew Steve was, the sight of his armed men still fresh in your head, and inquired, “Why do you say so?”

“It’s just like the fictional stories we hear from our parents, except here, in this city of ours, every myth holds true. There are really powerful men, untouchable by law, who reign the city silently and live luxuriously. Every shady, under the table deal you’ve heard of, transpires. Illegal trades, fraud schemes and bounty hunters are not fictional, they exist here. These men kill whatever hinders them and trust me, you don’t want to be the deer caught in their Jaguar’s headlights.”

Ice froze in your veins again, resembling the fear you felt that night but now because of your deemed ‘savior’. You convinced yourself that you had not wronged him in any way, instead had saved his daughter’s life.

“Are you in contact with him? If you are, distance yourself cleverly, don't block him immediately.”

“No, we just parted ways near my car, he thanked me for Sarah and was called away. It’s almost been a week and he hasn’t reached out if that’s what you mean. We didn’t exchange contacts and I don’t think I even told him my full name.” You explained yourself as if you were on the witness stand in court, trying to convince yourself more than Aiden.

“Pray that he doesn’t remember you more than that, if at all. I’m being totally honest here in telling you this, I’m genuinely worried for you and Grace. You are smart but he is powerful. He has unimaginable resources and if you become more than a speck of dust on his windshield, you are screwed. There is no exaggeration here.” You took his words to your heart and swore to be careful, if not for yourself then for Grace.

The rest of the day went by and you found yourself dwelling on and worrying about Aiden’s words. At least he put it out there as it was. Heeding his advice, you did google Steve on your phone, finally finding him in the topmost news headline when you added ‘Buck’ in the search bar as well.

‘With 38 lawsuits pending against businessman Steve Rogers, the filers have lost all hope in prosecuting him. All cases are being drawn out for indefinite periods of time by the Chief Justice Bruce……’

Aiden was right.

Businessmen was code for illegal mob heads. Cases being stretched on meant he was, in fact, invincible, at least to the common man’s fists.

You flickered through several titles, each one more surprising than the last. He was believed to be involved in the carnival attack, alleged for three hit and run cases that he didn’t lose but the witnesses swore they saw him driving and was also rumored to have brought in quintals of drugs just last week, but the packets just evaporated into thin air and there was no proof of their existence in the first place even on incessant searching.

Every crime of his made you shudder and you mentally thanked Aiden for pulling you out of your oblivion. Your mind raced and heart palpated and you cursed yourself for being so drastically unaware even after living here for almost four years. Technically speaking, Steve and you were even, him saving your life and you saving his daughter’s. No logical reason came to your mind for him contacting you ever.

You wished as Aiden said and assured yourself that your paths would never cross again, Steve not having reached out in a week, so hopefully never again.

That thought went out the window when you reached home to find a box awaiting you. Hannah, the babysitter you had called, informed you it came around 5 in the evening and was exclusively to be opened by you today.

Your mind raced as you paid the babysitter, your hands sweaty as you tried not to think about the gift and its sender. There was an apparently clear answer to who mailed it but you refused to accept that, courtesy of Aiden.

The box was of the height of Grace, it was black with red hearts painted across it; some red roses also sparingly adorned it. You opened the lid and found tons of red tissues and a multi-flower bouquet adorned with mostly red roses and a few purple and pink flowers.

Because of your frequent gardening in your backyard, you knew all the flowers’ meanings. To sum it all up, red flowers, especially roses were used for courting someone. Pink meant admiration, purple for beauty and you knew the ‘violet’ flowers were for loyalty.

As your nerves increased tenfold, you willed yourself to get it over with and empty out the box first, ignoring the little card in your bouquet, saving the ‘best’ for last. You find a mini bouquet inside but unlike yours, it had chocolates of every kind. You did read its card and cringed when it was for Grace, bothered not by the deed but by the doer.    

Further inside were some animal plushies, face masks, perfumes, scented body lotions and shampoos. Your head hurt thinking about the ‘single mother care package’ delivered to you by someone you refused to acknowledge.

As Grace sat in her playpen occupied, you dared to pick your card and read its message, your heart beating unrealistically fast for someone who refused to accept the cruciality of her situation.

~

I can’t thank you enough in this lifetime for saving my little princess. The gift of your help is more than anything money could ever buy for me. Please accept this invitation of mine for dinner tomorrow night, 7PM at La Bonne Nuit, as a symbol of my sincere gratitude for everything you’ve done. I’ll gets the kids covered and pick you up, you just be ready and look as amazing you always do.                                                                                           Sincerely,                                                                      Steve Rogers

                                                                                            ~

You stilled as you read it over and over again.

An invitation, your ass. Even in writing his authority portrayed, there was no question and hope for you coming, he just stated that you’d come. Looking pretty as always? You just met him once, in the middle of a calamity, covered in dirt and blood.

All the red roses and gifts screamed his romantic interest but you illusioned yourself into thinking they meant gratitude. You wouldn’t be able to digest it all otherwise.

Knowing what you knew now about Steve, you understood there was no denying the dinner tomorrow. You had to get out of his clutches and distance yourself, but as Aiden had so rightfully said, cleverly.

That night you laid in bed mulling over your next course of actions. You had called the gift shop to return the unwarranted presents you received but they said it was non refundable and anonymous to trace. You bitterly snorted in their face, they put a card with Steve’s name on it for heaven’s sake!

You didn’t flinch even when you realized you never gave Steve your address, neither for mailing stuff nor for picking you up. There was no number given to call him and thank or to call him and deny. The bastard had planned it all out, and you felt like you were driving in a one way lane, going deeper into the tunnel. Somewhere among your all-relentless fretting, you managed to finally sleep.

 When the doorbell rang, your eyebrows furrowed. It was just 6 PM and you weren’t expecting anybody else except for Steve. You had already begun getting ready, having developed a habit of keeping an extra margin of time now having a toddler. You still had to assemble Grace’s essential backpack, fill it with her meds and bottles.

While still putting on your diamond earring, you made your way to the door, unlocking it to find a redhead grinning at you. Before you could interact with her, a small body clung to your legs and you looked down to find the azure eyed kid that put you in this mess, Sarah, smiling up at you.

“Mama! You look pwetty!” She looked up in awe and now aware that she didn’t have a mother, you were even more so coerced into accepting this title rather than telling the kid that 'you are semi orphaned'.

“I’m Wanda, Sarah’s nanny. Mr. Rogers told me to pick her friend, Grace, up for the night?” So, this was what Steve meant. Bringing Sarah was proof enough of her legitimacy, but behind her you saw ‘Buck’ salute you from the driver’s seat of the black car. One of these days, you needed to learn his real name.

You invited Wanda inside and Sarah ran to Grace immediately, grabbing and whining while asking Grace to give her some popcorn she was munching on, her fist generously full.

In your open plan kitchen, you grabbed two plastic bowls, filled them with each with the tub of popcorn that sat in the microwave and handed each toddler one, fortunately quietening Sarah. Sarah obeyed Grace, in first thanking you, their ‘mama’ and then following her to her open playpen.

You faced Wanda again who sat on a barstool and kept on beaming. If your annoyance at her amusement showed, she sure didn’t let it falter the smile.

“Mr. Rogers told me you’d worry about your daughter, but I assure you she’d be in more than capable hands.” All you could focus on was how self-reassured she was. “I’ve served him for almost two years, the last family I served, I was there for 8 years and before them, I was employed for 3. I know the general bedtime and snacks, all I need from you is information about her allergies.”

You nodded and told her about Grace, her meds and what all you packed. When you got to know that her family owned the daycare Grace went to, you were finally somewhat convinced. After seeing them off, it was about fifteen minutes later, that the devil disguised in Prada showed up at your door.

You grabbed your purse and your keys. Wiping your sweaty palms on your dress, you opened the door. Steve stood there, a smirk lodging on his handsome face. His blue, three-piece suit perfectly paired with his cerulean eyes was impressive to say the least.

He was dressed to kill, and it appeared as if you were his first victim.

As your eyes took him in from top to bottom, his did the same lazily, taking their time, resting at certain places for longer period than others.

“You look stunning.”

You knew you did. You wore one of your more expensive dresses when you found out La Bonne Nuit to be one of the few seven-star hotels in the country. In hindsight, if you’d have dressed worse, maybe he’d have left you alone.

“Thank you.”

“Shall we?” He offered you his hand and you obliged with your palm in his. Your other hand pulled the doorknob while you stepped out, all alarms already set-in place. He waited while you locked and put the keys in and when you were done, with a soft kiss along your knuckles, he pulled you along.

The act surprised you, your stomach turning and your gut wrenching and you wondered if you’d be able to process the food after all, with your upset digestive system.

Like a proper gentleman, he opened the door for you and when you settled, he took his position at the driver’s seat. The silence was painful for you, your overthinking finally filling ideas in your head that you avoided contemplating about all day, focusing on Grace.

He was relaxed though; his humming was proof enough.

Mid way through, your thoughts were rudely interrupted when a hand housed itself on your knee. You glanced to find Steve’s palm slightly rubbing your knee. If it was meant to be assuring, you certainly didn’t feel like it.

You frowned and looked up to Steve who still had the arrogant smirk on his face, eyes straight ahead on the road, giving no indication of his inappropriate touching.

You wanted to swat his hand away but a brainwave dashed through your head and a disturbing thought made you halt, that whether he carried guns to restaurants as well, since carnivals were no big deal.

You ignored his hand and continued looking outside, pretending to ignore it as well as he did. Your scowl was a huge giveaway though.

You didn’t know that, but when your eyes found their way out, his finally rested on your face, the smirk growing even more.

Thankfully, apart from the incongruous touching, the dinner went okay-ish. The food and wine were impeccable, perfect even, the restaurant on the hotel’s top floors was so picturesque. You tried to savor your one-time experience there, knowing you’d no way be able to come back there.

Well, you tried to relish as much as you could while your mind still sat there, wary of the human in front of you. If you’d ignore your journey here, Steve was nothing short of a true gentleman, often making you wonder if you had imagined his hand on you.

This ‘friendly’ date you were having was probably one of the best you have had, he had left no expenses. He appeared to be interested in your work, about your childhood and about Grace’s but you swiftly avoided his questions about her father. He was growing a tad bit too comfortable for your liking and you still refused to entertain the idea that this was a ‘date’ date.

When you were finally onto dessert, the last course of your meal, your table was shadowed by the broad frame of a brunette and his date. He clapped Steve’s shoulder and Steve rose to hug him, you awkwardly smiled.

“It’s been far too long since you’ve been here, Cap. Why don’t you and your gorgeous date stop by my penthouse for a bit? We could finally go over the papers you sent me, in person?” He winked, they discussed something more and then went away, his date bowing and trailing after him as well.

Steve claimed his seat again, and finally told you about the interrupter. “That was my good friend, Tony Stark, always in a hurry. I’ll introduce you to him when we meet him later.”

“I think I’ll be heading home; you need not worry about my introduction, I hardly think we’ll ever run into each other again.” His eyes narrowed and you clarified, “Me and Mr. Stark, I meant.”

That’s good, don’t associate yourself with more of his kind.

“He was so kind in inviting you though, it would be rude to refuse.”

“It’s already late, Steve. And I’ve never left Grace alone for a night yet. What if she’s antsy? What if she is bothered? What if she feels unsafe? She's only used to very few people, and after last week, I-” You had started the sentence hoping to use Grace as an excuse but every word of yours succeeded in making you more apprehensive.

The carnival night flashed in your mind, along with the nightmares and you started panicking even more. Your hands clammy, your dessert spoon fell in your lap as sought your phone in your purse, hoping to call Wanda for an update. You felt like a terrible mother, who left her child with a stranger, only a week after she suffered trauma, just to go on a date with a mobster.

Steve reached across the table and grabbed your fidgety hands and as you wriggled to get your hands free, he softly called your name. Voice stern but vocals gentle. Your blurry eyes snapped to meet his while he guided you to breathe deeply, in and out.

His firm hold convinced you to listen to him, you’d never free yourself of them otherwise.

When you had calmed a bit, he withdrew his hands and fetched his phone. Your thoughts slowed down, and you wondered if anyone here was judging you. Your little scene, mercifully, went unnoticed by the other affluent people dining here.

Steve handed you his phone where four colored frames rested, the screen showing you Grace and Sarah cuddled in a frilly, pink four poster where Wanda sat too, her lips moving.

The feed was live and the screen muted, both the toddlers’ eyes fluttering close slowly, on the bridge of sleep.

You handed the phone back to Steve and drank your water while he rubbed circles on the back of one of your hands. You never freaked out like you did right now, always collected and never giving into anxiety. What had happened to you?

Well, In your defense, you had never experienced a disaster either.

“The kids are safe; I’m never putting either of them in harm’s way ever again.”

Your mind did catch the plural in his statement but you promised yourself you would not let it get that far and continued drinking your water, emptying the entire glass.

“The HD image you just saw was by cameras Tony recently developed. His technology is amazing, I’ll take you to his lab sometime.” You appreciated his attempt to redirect the topic but you also focused on how tech-savvy his friends were as well.

You hummed and agreed, trying to be ambiguous with your answer.

When you finished your dessert, you hoped he’d forget about his ‘friend’ Tony but to no avail.

“His penthouse is two floors above. He owns this hotel as well in case you didn’t notice.” He led you to the elevator as you recalled the Starks Group logo you saw earlier sometime.

Some AI named Jarvis opened the elevator doors for you in the living room of Tony’s penthouse. It was even more magnificent than the restaurant earlier, the place illuminated by several hues of different colours. Steve chuckled and strung you along, introducing you to a ginger-head named Pepper, who was Tony’s date earlier and went to search for his acquaintance.

She offered you wine but you politely declined, opting for water instead. She brought your glass to you from the extravagant kitchen and you both sat on the barstool there instead of the living room. Too anxious to say the wrong thing, you stayed quiet until her voice filled the deafening silence.

“So, Steve almost never brings dates around. You two serious?” She questioned, leaning towards you, waiting for some gossip, no doubt.

“Oh no! We aren’t dating. He just invited me for a friendly dinner. We merely met the other week.” You deliberately left out the part where there was bombing by crime families and attack on the common man.

“Honey, in the mob life, you don’t just introduce random people to the fam.”

Oh, she wasn’t being shy about the whole mob ordeal. It seemed weird to hear it from her, since you and Steve hadn’t used the word yet. Maybe he figured you already knew considering the circumstances you met in or how famous he was.

“We really aren’t romantically involved. This dinner was just a gesture of gratitude if I’m being truthful.”

She chuckled, as if you were a kid making stories and quizzed, “Gratitude for what?”

You trapped yourself into that one. You didn’t know how to answer her and your brain downright blanked. Surprisingly,, Steve came to your rescue and two voices interposed your conversation.

Steve called your name and as you turned to the men, he continued, “She’s the one who saved Sarah the other night. You know the story, Wilson probably got it printed.”

“Impressive, really. Hey, I’m Tony and I see you’ve already met Pepper, my fiancée.” He shook your hand and kissed your knuckles, much like Steve did earlier in the day. You bowed, smiled and mumbled a ‘nice to meet you as well’. They escorted you to the elevator and Tony continued.

“Well, it’s not everyday Steve brings brave and extraordinarily attractive women around. Welcome to the family, sweetie. She’s a keeper, Cap.” He winked while saying the last sentence and before you could correct him, Steve ushered you inside the elevator, bro-hugging him. As the doors closed, Pepper winked at you from behind Tony and a shudder ran through you.

Okay you had to make it clear, get on the same page.

As the elevator music filled the silence, you started, “Steve, look we aren’t-”, “I served in the army, that’s why Tony calls me Cap, short for captain.” And crudely got interrupted.

“I never wanted to get into the army, I thought people were fools to sacrifice the one life they got. But I went to make my mother’s dream a reality, I really loved her, you know? Sarah is named after her, my mother.”

His voice broke at the end and as much as you wanted to redirect onto your former topic, you couldn’t. This amiability of yours would be the death of you.

“She died alone in her bed; I was dispatched too far away to even make it back for her funeral.” He mumbled but you heard him clear as a sunny day, and he leaned back onto the wall for support while you awkwardly rubbed his shoulder to return the support he provided earlier during your mental breakdown.

He closed his eyes and gathered himself, taking deep breaths. As the elevator dinged, his eyes opened and he gave you a strained smile.  

The car ride to his mansion was painfully silent, his mind too sidetracked to focus on harassing you again. With all that you went through today, you almost forgot about that.

His mansion was enormous, twenty guards stood outside and even more patrolled the lawn. He took you inside his house, the interior even more detailed and scenic than Tony’s temporary residence.

You just concentrated on swiftly getting Grace and Uber-ing back. As Steve showed you earlier, Grace and Sarah hugged and slept and it was a meticulous task to untangle their limbs without waking either of them up andnd get Grace with her back-pack. You thanked Wanda on the way out, hoping to avoid Steve but somehow he stood outside before you, leaning on his sleek black car. He opened the door for you before you could refuse the ride. You settled with Grace in the backseat itself, trying to be smart.

He just summoned one of his guards to drive and sat alongside you in the back. You didn’t let the annoyance at his clinginess show though. You just focused on Grace who drooled over your shoulder.

Hopefully, there won’t be any point of exposure to him ever again, your circles didn’t match, both social and professional. Your Venn diagrams didn’t overlap anywhere. This should be reason enough to avoid meeting ever again.

He didn’t try anything even this ride around. You doubted it was hardly because of the toddler or because of the driver. He did as he pleased, if he wanted to he could very well grope you. Luckily, he wasn't in the mood.

When you reached your dwelling, you stepped out hastily, thanking him in a whisper. You fumbled to get your keys out, but since everything you held slowed you down, he caught up with you without even trying.

He took and held Grace’s bag while you drew the keys out, Grace still on your hip. He handed you the bag back, “So this is it, I guess?”

“Yeah, tonight was a total delight. Thanks for the dinner and everything, really.” You put up your best façade, hoping to convince him.

“It was, thanks to you. The company matters the most.”

You awkwardly chuckled and you sensed him leaning in, his eyes flickering shut. Your eyes closed as you turned your head to avoid him, so that his lips would peck your cheek.

They never came.

Your eyes opened to find his and he chuckled, leaning in once again swiftly, catching you off guard this time. He didn’t meet your lips though, he kissed the corner of your mouth, lips overlapping for a fraction of skin.

“In due time, baby.” He stepped back and strolled to his car leisurely, content in his own world.

You opened your door and slammed it shut, the peck feeling wrong on so many levels. It felt more sensual than a lover’s kiss, leaving room for intimacy and longing.

Your thoughts ran a hundred kilometers an hour, the most absurd but nauseatingly true being, this was a date and it was not your last encounter.

Steve smirked outside in his car, the dinner an absolute success in his opinion. Tonight just made him feel that you both were more than compatible for each other. You needing him during your mental breakdown, him relaxing under your shy touch, Tony’s approval, not that important though, and your anxiety for Grace was the best part, because he, more often than he’d like to admit, fussed about Sarah the same way, agonizing and fretting her well being.

A text lit up his black screen and his grin widened even more if possible.

‘The Stark cameras are up and working, Sir.’

[kawaiitoga]

𝕥𝕠𝕜𝕪𝕠 𝕣𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒 𝕔𝕣𝕦𝕤𝕙 𝕠𝕟 𝕒 𝕟𝕒𝕘𝕚𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

╰┈➤ includes: mikey, (some of draken), hina, emma, senju, haitani and kazu

╰┈➤ cw: spoilers for tokyo revengers episode 20 (i think that’s it, but if there’s anything else, then tell me!!)

╰┈➤ A/n: this is my first request and first fic so hopefully i can give it justice!! thank you so much to @kyomint-deactivated20211005 for requesting this!! i hope i managed to do what you asked, since my imagination went wild at this <3

╰┈➤ word count: 2,125 words

╰┈➤ summary: the tokyo revenger characters all have a crush on a fem! nagito reader.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

when you joined the tokyo manji gang, you never knew what it would be like to be the only girl in the group. yes, it was probably weird to be the only girl and you probably expected them all to have a crush on you, but you managed to have a massive ego boost when your expectations were a reality.

as soon as you joined, toman treated you as if they were your family, so you began to feel extremely comfortable with them, and you being able to fight was a plus. it was the whole reason why you decided to join the tokyo manji gang.

although, your parents may have not approved, you didn’t mind, because they felt more like family than your parents would ever be.

“you’re zoning out..again.” draken called out to you, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“awhh kennyyy, why did you talk to her? she looked pretty like that.” mikey answered in response to draken instead of you as the two started to regularly argue.

“i don’t think i look pretty.” you stopped their arguing suddenly by saying that. the pair looked at you as you continued to list out negative things about yourself. they knew all the things that you were saying weren’t true, but it wasnt like they could just draw all the negative things out of your mind. you were like this all the time.

“come on, don’t be so hard on yourself, you’re needed in toman, you know?” mikey told you as you looked at him then draken to notice them both staring at you.

“sorry, i did it again.” you uttered out as they both gave you a sympathetic look before standing out from the swings in the same old playground that you all had been going to since you were kids.

“it’s fine, let’s head back, shall we?” draken questioned as you nodded, them both leading you back to your house.

------

“you know you should be more careful, hanging around with toman is a bad decision.” hinata, one of your best friends, spoke, taking you out of your daydream.

“ugh, i know, you tell me this everyday hina. why are you so worried?” you asked her as you turned to the textbook page that was requested on the board. your teacher was no longer in the room, but you was supposed to do work regarding the pages prescribed. you, however, had decided to go into your many daydreams, hina managing to pull you out of it.

“i’m worried because i care about you!” she exclaimed as you sighed, not believing her. you didn’t believe anyone had the ability to care about you. sure, many people had said that, but those people had abandoned you. over and over again. so, what hope had you had for hinata?

“yeah, sure.” you sarcastically spoke, writing notes from the textbook into your book, but you didn’t get to write much as your arm was pulled by your best friend, hinata.

“what are you doing?!” you said in a voice that you thought was a whisper, but drew people towards the pair of you as you lowered your head embarrassingly, before looking back up to meet her eyes.

“i do care about you, i care about you a lot because i like you y/n! yes, i like you more than a friend and i know you’re probably thinking why anyone is drawn to you, but there are so many perfect qualities about you and i just want you to know that i’ll always be by your side to protect you!” she explained as you were left in shock by your words.

“you don’t have to say anything, i just wanted you to know” she responded, leaving you unable to reply as she let go of your arm and turned to continue with her work as you processed all that she had just proclaimed to you.

-------

you were now walking with emma afterschool as you told her all about what hinata had said to you and how surprised you were. emma was a year younger than you, but you got along well since you were also friends with mikey.

“wow, she really did that. shocker.” emma replied as you knew that she wasn’t acting like herself, so you brought it up to her.

“is something wrong?” you asked her before she turned to you, making you stop in your tracks also. she stared at you for awhile then continuing to walk as you had to catch up with her.

“hey, emma, what’s up?” you grabbed her arm, pulling her back slightly.

“do you like hinata also?” you don’t know why the question shocked you, but her suddenly asking you if you had feelings for hinata made you pause. why did she even want to know if you had feelings for her? i mean she was one of your friends and it was obvious that she would ask you something like that, but she seemed..nervous?

“i’m not sure, why do you ask?”

“because you’re out of her league.” she told you as you froze. you..out of hinata’s league?? surely it was the other way round. hinata was pretty and strong and smart and she was always perfect in everything you did.

“yes, i said what i said. you’re out of her league, so don’t even start to think bad about yourself. you’re so special in your own way and i don’t even understand why you think so bad about yourself, since you’re so perfect to everyone.” you looked at emma as she confessed to you, was she saying what you think she was saying?

“and i believe i’m in your league, so wait for me..please.” she looked back at you before giving you the same smile that you always loved to see. you loved seeing her happy, you loved seeing all your friends happy.

“i’ll try to.” you responded, still in shock that emma had just confessed to you. you were sure that emma should wait until she was older and find someone better than you, but emma was certain she liked you and now that her and hinata had liked you, you were at a loss for words.

------

after you dropped emma home, it started to pour down with rain suddenly. you didn’t have an umbrella as the weather report did claim that there was going to be no sight of rain, but sometimes it was not always accurate. you started to rush back home, looking at the floor the whole time until you felt yourself crash into something..or someone. you were stopped from hitting the floor as a hand caught you, pulling you up almost immediately.

“do you need an umbrella or what?” a girl with short platinum hair stood infront of you, holding out an extra umbrella. one was already covering over her as you looked up seeing another guy standing next to her.

“oh, i recognise you. you’re in my homeroom class, y/n l/n.” she spoke your name with so much confidence that it gave you chills and butterflies at the same time. oh, it’s her. senju akashi. she was rarely in school since you heard that she was in some type of gang but you never got involved with her since she could be an enemy.

“how do you know my name?” you asked her, not being too open as to not expose yourself. she was rarely in school as you knew, so how was she able to know your name?

“you’re friends with mikey, everyone knows mikey’s friends.” she stated as you realised that she had heard of mikey, so she was probably some sort of threat.

“i’m not a threat, i’ve liked you for a while, you’re different than others, especially mikey, he has such a big ego.” she explained to you as you couldn’t believe it. an attractive girl who was offering you her umbrella even though you had crashed into her was now saying that she had liked you, right. this was too much like a fairytale to be true.

“here, you’re getting wet just take my umbrella already.” she moved away from the subject as she opened up the umbrella she was holding and gave it to you.

“how do i give this back to you though?” you asked her as you took it from her to prevent yourself from being even more soaked than you were.

“i’ll see you at school, right?” she smirked lightly before heading off, leaving you in your own world. why would a girl like that like someone like you? it may seem unbelievable, but it was true. you were special even if you didn’t think so.

------

“can i borrow you for a second?” you turned around as you were waiting for the fight between toman and valhalla to commence. you realised it to be ran haitani and next to him, his brother, rindo haitani. they were both from an infamous gang, but similar to toman, so it wasn’t like your reputation was any better.

“uh, sure.” you replied before looking at some of the members of toman that were also confused why they wanted to talk to you. you followed them over to where you were not too far away from toman but they also couldn’t hear what was going on.

“why don’t you join us? It’s obvious this won’t work out the way your gang probably planned and i don’t want a cute face like you to get destroyed so easily.” rindo told you.

“and you realise you’re the only female here which means you’ll get targeted.” ran continued.

you knew they were both equally powerful, but it sounded like they were just making up any excuse they could to get you to join their gang instead.

“come on, you know that it would be better for us to have a girl on a team, i mean don’t you feel uncomfortable here?” rindo suggested as you shook your head in response.

“well, the offer’s always open, seeing as we both like you.” the last part ran muttered but you were still able to hear him.

why would they both like you? you didn’t even know them that much, all you knew was their name but it seemed as if they knew everything about you, which made the situation even more confusing.

the pair smirked at you as you slowly turned around and walked away from them.

------

the fight between toman and valhalla quickly broke out as you destroyed anyone that dared to fight you. you knew that you would potentially be one that valhalla would doubt since you were a girl and there was always the old saying that “girls can’t fight”. but, you quickly put that saying to the dirt as you fought them.

“MIKEY!” the sound of draken’s voice echoed through your ears as you turned to where mikey was. he was fighting kazutora, that was where you saw him last. but, as you saw where mikey was, you couldn’t help but gasp. mikey was on the floor as kazutora stood infront of him with a steel bar that he had probably grabbed from the amount of waste that was laid behind them since there were on top of a pile of cars.

you suddenly abandoned the guy that you were fighting who had an ongoing nosebleed from the punch to the nose you gave him. you quickly made your way up to mikey as kazutora was about to hit him again. you managed to punch kazutora on the side of his face as he ended up on the floor.

his two friends came to fight you also but you quickly turned around, launching your leg as you spun which hurt them both as they ended up on the floor too.

“wow, you’re strong for a girl.” im sorry? what did this guy just say?

you turned round to kazutora who was trying to get to his feet, but he stopped as soon as he saw you glaring directly at him.

“you know you’re really talkative for someone who just got punched to the floor by a girl.” you snapped back at him as he lightly smirked at you.

“and you’re really pretty too, wow.” he suddenly smiled at you as your face quickly turned into a frown.

he soon rose to his feet as you prepared yourself for his attack.

“how about when this is over, we go on a date?” he questioned to you as he put his hand out as if he was asking you to shake it.

“she would, but she’s with me.” you turned to the voice as you saw mikey standing up, before launching himself with multiple attacks towards kazutora.

[scarasun]

give your mutuals a color and genshin boy/ girl you think would go well with them, or or, if this is easier, say what genshin character reminds you of them the most!

buckle up, moots! you're in for a wild ride! i've used a hex code color picker to choose your colors (and to kind of make it a surprise), so you can go to this website here, and plug in your codes!

🌹🌹🌹 @ataraxyystories : color: (B4EECD) genshin character: in terms of general vibes, probably sucrose or collei! although you remind me more of collei in terms of personality now that i think about it, because you're fun to be around and very passionate about the things you like! :3

@radishsoups : color: (EFD0FF) genshin character: kokomi! i think one of your earliest themes on your blog was kokomi-inspired. in terms of who i think your personality reminds me of,,,probably yunjin! i feel like you're very graceful and polite, but you have a cheeky side.

@kaneaken : color: (A149CE) genshin character: sucrose for sure!!! i feel like you're kind of shy (in an endearing way) but still very lovable! you also remind me of ei!!! for some reason i feel like you love sweets(??) correct me if im wrong

@albenyx : color: (F8D78D) genshin character: ALBEDOOOO because he's your entire theme. i actually sat for a while trying to remember what your theme was before you changed it (it was kazuha right??). in terms of personality,,,hu tao?? you give me prankster vibes (in a good way) and i think you know how to vibe with just about anyone.

@chamomileteahouse : color: (FF8364) genshin character: so we haven't talked much but kazuha!!! mostly because your whole theme is about him. i also feel like you remind me of thoma??? it's a long drawn out explanation i've made up in my head but i feel like since your theme is based on a tea house, and thoma is a great chef,,,it kind of just clicks, you know? plus his color scheme is red so i think it works.

@scarahours : color: (2A5BBF) genshin character: so we haven't talked much either but i instantly knew who i was gonna pick for you: scaramouche. literally because of the url. but personality-wise, i think you might be a chill person, but you don't like being provoked?? so because of that i think you might fit yelan really well.

🌹🌹🌹

it's late here but hopefully i did everyone justice! love yall!

[combat-wombatus]

A Little Confession

Pairing: Iida Tenya x gn!reader

Genre: a lil angst, fluff

Warnings: none!

WC: 1.5k

Summary: You missed your best friend. Iida seemed to be avoiding you, and a late-night cuddle sesh may be just the thing to get him to fess up.

(A/N): akjhfskjdhflakjhlkjhfd this took me 2 weeks and it’s like 1.5k words help-

i can’t like deal ok this is absolutely terrible and i’m just...posting this because I NEED TO GET RID OF MY WRITER’S BLOCK DAMMIT

forgive my sins...idk if y’all really want to read this ALKDJFHAKJ it sucks but...yeah...just needed to get something out too...

this is for my new year’s event btw (yes i realize we’re halfway through january already i still have 30 asks sitting in my inbox staring at me like 🧍🏻‍♀️i promise i’m not ignoring them i just...suck at writing-

6: “You knocked on my door, at 2 in the morning, to cuddle?”

You tossed and turned in your bed, the restless energy from tonight still invading your thoughts. You found it hard to believe what had happened.

Over the course of the week, your classmate had been kidnapped, All Might’s true form had been revealed, more of your classmates risked their lives to perform a rescue operation (albeit successful) of their kidnapped classmate, a formerly-believed-to-be-dead supervillain showed up and basically demolished an entire city with a quirk you hadn’t thought would be possible, and now you had all moved into dorms for your own safety.

If that wasn’t overwhelming, you weren’t sure what else could possibly be considered so.

To make it all worse, your best friend, the rule-abiding, goody-two-shoes hero-in-training, had been a part of the rescue operation. The rescue operation that most definitely broke the rules.

You were worried about him. Not his sudden change in attitude (you had felt that the orderly behavior would succumb to recklessness sooner or later), but with the fact that he didn’t tell you about his involvement until it was already over and done with.

Of course, that could’ve been because you were with Hagakure and Jirou, passed out in the hospital from a villain’s gas quirk, but that didn’t mean your phone was broken.

It would’ve taken one text.

Just one.

One that he never sent.

Sighing, you flipped over on your unfamiliar mattress again, trying to clear your mind so you could fall asleep. It was close to 2AM, and if you continued like this, you wouldn’t have enough energy to stay awake in class tomorrow.

He doesn’t have to tell me anything! You tried to reason with yourself. It was his business! Besides, it’s not like I could’ve helped.

But what if he’d gotten hurt?

What if you weren’t there to save him from his reckless decisions?

You hadn’t even seen him since that incident, and he hadn’t reached out by text either.

Did he not want to associate with you anymore?

Unwelcome thoughts plagued your head, making it impossible for you to get any sleep. Sighing to yourself, you quickly threw back your covers, tossed on a cozy cardigan, and shoved your feet into your fuzzy slippers. The restlessness had made you hungry, and since you couldn’t sleep, food was the next best thing.

Quietly making your way into the halls, you shuffled in the direction of the kitchen, careful not to wake your classmates. You’d almost made it to the elevator when you spotted a faint glow coming from inside Iida’s room.

He’s still awake too?

Steeling your nerves, you raised a fist and rapped on his door lightly. A chair screeched, and moments later, Iida answered the door in a nightcap and pajamas.

“(Y/N)?” His eyebrows were drawn in a frown. The gesture made the heavy bags under his eyes look even more prominent, and the sight made your heart clench.

“Ten…what’s wrong?”

He adjusted his glasses, looking uncomfortable. “I’m afraid I don’t quite understand you. There’s nothing wrong.”

You saw through his fib, but you chose not to call him out on it. He’d tell you when he was well and ready.

“Then…can we cuddle?” You voiced hopefully. You’d missed him more than you cared to admit, and being rather touch-starved the past week, you longed for his familiar strength.

Iida, for his part, looked confused. “You knocked on my door at 2 in the morning…to cuddle?”

“Mhm,” you yawned. Stepping past his door, you swiftly wrapped your arms around his solid frame, relaxing in his scent.

“(Y/N) …” he awkwardly closed the door with one hand, the other wrapped around your back. “We aren’t supposed to be in each other’s rooms.”

You murmured noncommittally into his chest. You could deal with the repercussions later.

After a moment of internal debate, Iida rested his other hand on top of your head, rubbing soothing circles and slightly mussing your hair.

“Missed you,” you mumble, voice slightly muffled by his shirt.

Iida cleared his throat, desperately trying to get rid of the lump that was building in it. Hugging you tighter, he rested his chin atop your head.

“I missed you too.”

After a while, you tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention.

“‘m still hungry,” you mumbled sleepily, nuzzling your face into his chest.

Iida chuckled. Some things never change.

“I’ll go grab something,” he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Go sit on the bed, okay?”

“Mhm…” You sat down on his bed. His sheets smelled like detergent and eucalyptus, an intoxicating aroma that made you even sleepier than before.

“Don’t think he’ll mind if I just…lie down…” Kicking off your slippers, you curled up on his mattress. You’d only closed your eyes for a second before you drifted off into sleep, hands clutching the warm blankets.

“I got some cheese and-” Iida stopped in the doorway, holding a packet of cheese and some crackers. “Oh.”

His eyes settled upon your dozing form. He carefully set down the snacks, then quietly padded over to the bed. Gingerly sitting down as to not wake you, he shifted the blankets over your body, a gentle warmth filling his heart.

He didn’t want to acknowledge how much he missed you either. He wasn’t a selfish person. He really wasn’t. But for you, no matter how hard he tried, he found it hard to not be selfish.

Slowly, he laid down on the bed next to you, trying to keep a respectable distance: not an easy feat to accomplish, given his size.

Taking in your peaceful expression, he found it in him to finally fall asleep, grounded by your presence, just a fingertip away.

You woke up to Iida’s breath tickling your cheeks, his arms wrapped snugly around your torso. Shifting slightly, you gently lifted one of the arms caging you in and slid off the bed, padding to the bathroom.

When you returned, he was still asleep. The lines of his jaw were softer than usual, making him look…relaxed. You resisted the urge to snap a picture right then and there.

Your weight settling on the bed stirred him from his slumber.

“Hmm…(Y/N)? What…oh.” He blinked blearily.

“You didn’t wake me up yesterday?” You asked softly, resting your head atop his chest.

Iida flushed. “Ah…no. You looked tired, and it was late, and, well…I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“Ten, you know you could’ve. I wouldn’t have minded.”

“I would’ve,” he whispered.

This time, it was your turn to blush.

He didn’t stop at that.

“(Y/N) …I…I don’t want to be a bad influence.”

You stilled. What?

“You…a bad influence?” You giggled. “Ten, where did that come from?”

He breathed out a sigh. “I…I never told you, did I?”

“Told me what?”

“This isn’t…this isn’t the first time. This isn’t the first time I…participated…in vigilante activity, (Y/N). This isn’t the first time I stepped outside the bounds of the law to complete my own agenda.” He admitted with a pained expression.

“Ten…are you telling me that you’re a vigilante?”

“Not really, no.” He winced. “(Y/N) …do you remember Stain?”

“Stain? The Hero-Killer?” You dug deep into your memories, trying to remember what was so important about Stain.

Oh.

“Is this about your brother?”

Iida grimaced. “I…I may have left out the entire story about my internships.”

“What happened?” You had an inkling about what he was going to say, but you didn’t want to make assumptions yet.

“I interned at Hosu City, even though I received better offers…because I’d heard news about Stain operating there. I wanted revenge, (Y/N). I wasn’t…I wasn’t a hero at all. There’s something about misguided justice that pumps you full of adrenaline, and I made several rash decisions. But after the fact? I regretted all of them.” Iida clenched his eyes shut, but two shiny tracks still snaked their way down his cheeks, marking dark splotches on his pillow.

“Ten…”

“And that’s just it. I regretted what I did, but then I had to go and do it all again. Genius, right?” He scoffed at himself. “I’m a terrible influence, (Y/N). I…I don’t want to ruin your future.”

“Stop it.” You hugged him tight, burrowing your face into his chest. “I don’t think that you’re a terrible influence at all. You did save him, didn’t you? Without you…do you really believe that Bakugou would’ve made it out safely if you hadn’t gone?”

“I…”

“Stop being so hard on yourself, Tenya. You’re braver than you give yourself credit for. And yes, you were reckless. Yes, you made rash decisions. But that’s not enough to measure your whole life by. And, in the end, you did accomplish something for the greater good, right?”

A small smile played at the edge of his lips. He pressed a small kiss onto your forehead.

How lucky he was to have you.

“Thank you, (Y/N).”

He almost said something else after his expression of gratitude. Three simple words, whispered in his head, that he didn’t yet have the courage to confirm out loud.

I love you.

Coco’s 20-21 New Year’s Celebration

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