#i just keep changing how i word things & shuffling what projects and experiences i put on there. and what buzzwords i use lmao

[wickedhawtwexler]

i have looked at my resume so many times that half of these words do not look like english anymore

[toiletwipes]

and i'd give up forever to touch you

chapter seven. opening up, inside and out.

Summary: Wilbur joins you on a late drive and knows you better, finding out just how fast he is becoming attached to you.

ao3 link. ~2.1k words. masterlist.

---

he’s sitting outside, on the curb when you pull up in a compact car, music pulsing through the speakers and when you roll down the window, the volume too, and smile at him with half-awake eyes, he’s up in an instant, heart racing when he thinks back to just moments before.

to the moments when he doubted the continuity of your friendship, where he was so resolute that you would abandon him once he would become comfortable, once he showed himself to you completely.

you don’t give him a chance to think that again as you leaned over and gestured for him to get in, “it’s cold wilbur, get in,” you chortled as he scrambled to his feet, as if he forgot to move for a second. giving the door a solid shut, he rolled the window up and moved the seat back a little, feeling more awkward than the cold you had warned him about outside.

“thanks for coming with me, will, i was going nuts with how quiet it is.” you offered little more than turning up the music as you pulled into the street.

“is there something... troubling you?” he asks, keeping on the dim light on the road, the sparse cars that pass them by.

you exhale deeply, eyes trained on staying in the painted lines on the road. “doing this cover and its responsibilities have dawned on me, and trying to figure out if this will be worth it- worth scheduling weeks, maybe months of time to even reach maybe the first two minutes, with our own two parts. maybe we should think about making it simpler, narrow it down to a piano and vocal duet, or a single guitar and-” you cut yourself off, pulling into the lot of a closed-down store, one of the few in this college-centric town.

“is that what you want to do?” you turn to him, your face sullen and eyes wandering over his figure, like he didn’t need to show himself at all, and that you saw him as he is already. and you had no qualms about what you saw.

“no, i don’t want just a simple cover, done in three sessions and- and have not a single drop of substance behind it. i want to feel the love sewn into frequencies every time i listen to it, i want to feel-”

you cut yourself off before smiling at him, “i want to feel alive when i hear it, because i know that’s how good it could be.” you trail off, looking out towards the windshield. “and i’ve only felt truly alive when making music, alive in a way that is beyond the pulse of my beating heart, you understand that, don’t you?” he stares into your face and finds it.

he sees you, bearing your true intentions behind this project. he wonders if you’re trying to share this intimate experience you feel with music with him.

he wonders how special you find him to want to share such a thing with him only.

“i don’t think i’ve ever felt it.” he admits.

“not even when you wrote your songs?” you question, head tilting to lie against the headrest.

he shakes his head, “i wrote those songs to help me cope with my life, something i didn’t understand at the time.” he wonders if you’re trying to do the same.

“i could show you, if you want, but fair warning, you’ll get addicted to the feeling.” you joke, and he smiles, but he knows you’re serious in the offer. with this cover, you’ll probably show him something he won’t forget for as long as he lives. it’s curious to see if he’ll survive it. “well- now that’s off my chest, how about some early morning mcdonald’s?” you say, as if trying to cut the thick layer of intimate honesty about oneself into diced cubes.

he blinks but you’re already driving to the closest mcdonald’s before he has a chance to respond. and you’re reaching into the cup holders, holding out your phone to him and telling him a pass-code. “play some music, it’s connected to the bluetooth already. or a podcast, though you don’t seem like the guy to listen to podcasts to me,” you speak and you’re giving him a quick grin before turning back to the road.

his heartbeat quickens when holding your phone, knowing your pass-code and knowing you have this solid trust in him to have given both to him. even if you didn’t know he has had thoughts that are dark in nature, it was.. exciting to say the least, he would almost say heartwarming.

but he does what you’ve asked of him, opening up the green music app and typing in the name of a song he thinks you might like.

though, when it plays out in the speakers, you spare him a glance. “you like sleeping at last?” speaking as though you were leaning towards dislike.

“is it- is it bad?”

you clicked your tongue, “not bad, just-” you hum, giving a soft laugh, “-just curious, didn’t think you’d like them, is all. we’re still new to each other, and yet, it feels like we’re old friends reconnecting.”

“you’re a big part of that, to be fair.” he folds his arms and tucked his back adjacent to the window and seat, turning to look at you fully.

you shrug, pulling into the parking lot and into the drive-thru. turning the music down as you rolled the window down, you give him a short look and he is turning his eyes on the painstakingly bright menu.

telling you what he wanted, you nod, and talk to the exhausted employee over the speaker about y’all’s order, pulling up into the second window.

reaching towards the back you are surprised to see will holding out a card towards you, you meant to deny it but he nudges it in your hands, and you just hand it towards the employee. the next few minutes are quiet, waiting for the food and handling both it and the drinks towards the passenger, passing the receipt and card back to the owner, and you drive off.

finding another empty lot, with a little less buildings in the area, you two begin to eat in the quiet of the night, sleeping at last smoothing out the edges.

when you crumple the wrapper in a ball, and toss it in the bag, you turn to face will yourself.

he faces you too when he’s done, trying not to show how the intensity of your stare is affecting him. “can i help you?” he asks, turning his gaze to the time. 2:47.

“this is the longest time we’ve spent talking to each other, and i realize you have a nice voice speaking as well as singing.” his mouth opens a little bit and his skin heats up more than any properly working heater.

“thank you- i guess?” he’s confused, he knows that, it’s on what he’s flustered about is the confusing part. is it the fact no one told him he has a nice voice, generally? is it the fact that it’s late and you must be focusing hard on his voice to stay awake? or is it the fact that you’re looking past his defenses once more and seeing him as he is? your honor, he’ll say it’s probably all three.

“you’re welcome.” and that’s when he focuses on you. you’re wearing his beanie, his jacket, and some shorts that ride up your thighs. and as you turn your gaze to your phone, turning it on to change the song probably, he glances at your collarbone. bare, save for his jacket. were you only wearing his jacket on your torso?

picturing you without it was already a bad idea, but imagining what he’d do to you like that- he moves his head forcibly, staring out into the darkness.

“do you want to go home or do you want to come over? rosie won’t mind you being there as long as we’re quiet because i don’t know what it is about you but-” you yawn, covering your face, “-i’m getting too tired to drive but you’ve only just gotten here, so, whatever you decide is pretty good with me.”

he thinks about going home alone, and slipping under the cold and unkind covers, shivering till the blankets warmed. and then he thinks about going home with you, and possibly sleeping on the too small of a couch for him and you there with your comfortable, soft ambiance. thinks about rosie waking the two of you up in the morning in her pajamas, making or picking breakfast up.

and he offers to drive for you, leaving you to doze off in the passenger side with piano notes trailing off in your ear.

~~~

parking in front of the dorm building, he leans over to shake your shoulder only to falter in his movements, your hunched over figure leaning against the window and your breath fogs the glass.

then you’re stirring awake, and you’re blinking the sleep away from your eyes and you’re looking right at him, for the third time, and he doesn’t know if he should be endeared by it or frustrated on how you can see him so easily.

but he’s turning the car off and walking around your car to open the door, helping you out and letting you lean on him for a second, never mind his skin itching to burn. you two walk to your dorm, unlocking it in the silent hallway.

the door creaks slightly as you push it open and aside, “you can have the couch or the bed, i’m too tired to care,” you walk to the kitchen and you open the doors to find something to drink, will recognizes it as an apple juice container. “though, you should try my bed, it’s too good to be true,” seeing will’s face you wave at him to follow you, though your movements sluggish, you prove you’re still conscious.

pushing your bedroom door open, he finds the papers from earlier stacked and he finds you hopping up onto your bed, with the apple juice between your legs and you patting the space next to you. he doesn’t make nearly the amount of effort you put in to sit beside you, and he begins to regulate his breathing to calm down, being near anybody really would put someone like him in a tizzy, he rationalizes.

“after i finish this, i’m going to pass out, you can do the same wherever.” and in a much more alarming speed, you chug the half-full container and cover your mouth when you’re done, giving a slight burp. “and i won’t say i told you so,” your lips lift up as if you meant to smile briefly but you were too tired to commit to the action.

leaning over to put the jug on the desk, you are left with shuffling in your spot until you’re covered by your blanket with your feet underneath will’s legs.

“night, wilbur, see ya in the morning,” you mumble to yourself mostly, but he hears you and he mumbles something similar, leaning his head against your wall and arguing with himself internally.

he has a chance, now.

when he looks straight at the dresser, he can see the camera, almost tauntingly.

though what sends chills down his spine isn’t your cold, uncovered feet touching him, no it’s the fact that the things he moved to cover the device, they’re gone and it’s almost noticeable.

it wouldn’t be hard to miss and it’s the fact that if he does take his chance and move it, you’ll know it was him. know that he was the one to put it there and take it away.

and then you’ll hate him, cut him off, take him away from the project, keep rosie away from him, and so much more. and nights like these won’t happen ever again. he won’t get these quiet moments with you, won’t get to appreciate a person like you.

so as he leaves to grab a blanket from the linen closet, and pads his way to your room, he decides that he’ll leave the cameras there, and he’ll take his chances.

maybe in a few months he can take it and put this whole thing behind you two, maybe you never even noticed it.

whatever happens later, he thinks, at least he had this night with you, tucking himself under the blanket and curling just nearly against you, and he feels at home next to you.

is that what you are, though? home? he wonders as he listens to your breathing for a few minutes, thinking that’s what you’d had to be. so open, so warm, and so comfortable to be around.

even if you hadn’t meant for it to happen, wilbur was swiftly becoming dependent, some would say addicted, to you and everything you’ve offered him.

but that would be a problem for a future will.

for now, he would sleep. and he would do it next to you. his worries can set themselves aside for a few hours.

...

tag list: @fxnxtical @ghostburlovebot @ollie-overscore @marinaloveswomen @roygbivp @beehive-syst3m @boiled-onionrings @mayempress @bringm3th3n1rvana @yui-san0

the tag list is currently open!!

[ageofevermore]

Eighteen | T. Holland

Summary → you’re tired of feeling like the world silences you, but after an interview with sebastian and anthony, you start to wonder if maybe it’s your fault.

Warning(s) → mentions of anxiety, mentions of sexual harassment, mentions of inequality in gender roles, use of the word slut, fluff if you squint 

Word Count → 1.9k

Note → this is a heavier topic, one that might be personal to some. if you don’t think you can handle the subject matter, please don’t force yourself to. this is relatively watered down, but it doesn’t take a genius to see what’s not being said. the ending features boyfriend!tom consoling the reader, so it does end on a fluffy note, but don’t hold out for those few ending paragraphs. 

add yourself to my taglist 

It’s getting hotter in the interviews. A thin layer of sweat sparkles on your skin, and even though the air conditioning has been turned down multiple times, there are too many people in the room to feel any drastic differences. It’s unfortunate for you. Hot flashes are a lovely addition to your anxiety disorder, and press always sets your nerves ablaze. It doesn't matter what project you’re promoting, who you're partnered with, or what you're wearing-- you’re always hot. 

Your cheeks are flushed dangerously when the last interview before lunch is called for yourself, Sebastian, and Anthony. This is your first press tour as an adult. You joined the marvel franchise years ago, when being eighteen felt like the equivalent of turning thirty, and you weren’t blind to the changes of tone. People were harsher to you, more forward. If they weren’t shutting you up, they were hinting at something less then appropriate, usually something sexual. 

The next interview started with a short introduction to the media outlet, and your interviewer. He was middle aged, kind smile, salt and pepper hair. He asked for your names, then he told you his, and one by one he shook your hands. His grip on you was criminal, lasting longer than was comfortable. Sebastian and Anthony we’re oblivious to the few extra seconds of contact between you and him, but it made your skin crawl in a familiar discomfort. 

Your fingers curled into fists, heart high in your throat. The questions started out easy. They were mostly directed towards the boys, like always, but this time you couldn’t find yourself to be annoyed. You had dealt with handsy and sexually charged men before, but he set a fire beneath you. It wasn’t behavior you should tolerate, but being a woman in the industry, inappropriate touches and glances we’re easier ignored then dealt with. When you spoke up you caused drama, made headlines, attracted nasty social media comments that called you a whore. It was easier to just internalize. 

“Y/N.” 

You hummed, looking towards the call of your name. He was smiling sweetly at you again, a predatory glint in his eyes that put you on edge. You shifted your weight closer to Anothony unconsciously giving the hungry man your professional attention and a nod. 

He shuffles through his index cards, but his eyes don’t read the scripted questions his employers have supplied him with. It’s not often male interviews do their own research, usually they’re briefed by a colleague and handed a set of questions and topic point by a higher level employee, but this man doesn’t even read the card before he’s staring you down and opening his mouth. 

“You finally got the Stark suit update,” He says, motioning towards the promo poster that shows off your CGI suit in all of its edited glory. Although the actual costume is breathtaking, the computer effects give it an entirely different, more technologically charged, feel. 

“Yeah,” You nod, a forced smile on your lips as you try to ease the uncomfortable tension from your tone. “She’s finally--” 

He cuts you off before you can give him any explanation for the upgrade. He isn’t the first one to address your new wardrobe, but he’s the first one to leave you antsy and uncomfortable. Sebastian frowns when you’re cut off, but he doesn’t think much of it. He lets the man continue, though a professional sharpness pulls his grin into a scowl. 

“Were you able to wear undergarments underneath it? It’s tight, doesn’t leave much to the imagination. Was there ever a moment where you reflected how much your wardrobe has changed through the years?” He asks, a dirty grin on his lips. 

Sebastian and Anthony are shocked at the blunt, inappropriate construction of his question. The public eye knew nothing of your battles with body image, or health concerns that lead to surgery. Your mind was plagued with doubts and self-criticism, and his invasive, pervy question both infuriated you and broke you apart. 

You stutter to find an answer, heat overwhelming you. Your hand grips onto Anthony’s arm, and you can’t decide whether anger is what burns your skin or anxiety. Are you making a big deal of this? You don’t know. You feel like you have every right to feel violated and uncomfortable, but you’re a young woman in the entertainment industry, isn’t this the kind of ignorant commentary you signed up for? You don’t know anymore. You grew up with people always having an opinion on your appearance, sexualizing you as early as twelve. You’ve carried around pepper spray and  self-defense keychains long before you even had an understanding towards predatory men and sexual assault. You’ve been conditioned by the world and the media to carry on with your day, no matter the broken boundaries or disrespect. You’re tired of remaining silent, feeling like your less than your male counterparts. Women and men should hold no differing values in society, and yet you walk to your apartment with keys between your fingers and Tom doesn’t even lock his front door. 

“I don’t think that’s an appropriate question.” You choke out, voice hard and nowhere near the soft and frilly pitch it usually obtains. You’re livid, absolutely pissed to the point of a quivering cupids bow. You’re humiliated, and horrified. Your feelings are everywhere, but you remain as professional as you can. If you yell, try to defend yourself at all, you’ll be painted as a diva in every media outlet for the next week, subliminally inviting backlash and slut-shaming comments into your social media messages. If Sebastian and Anthony come to your defense, they’ll be sung high-praises. 

The double standards men and women are held to, especially in the industry, is infuriating. 

He stumbles out a response, but his time is already up. For the first time today, you’re thankful these interviews are only ten minutes. He leaves the room, shown out by security, and even then he still sends you a wink over his shoulder as if your glimmering eyes meant nothing. 

“Hey,” Sebastian's voice is soft, his hand on the small of your back. You flinch away from his contact, head heavy in memories you’d rather forget. 

“Sorry,” You mumble, voice trembling with tears that you refuse to let fall. You’ve already been humiliated, you don’t need to further paint yourself as some helpless teenage girl. “I’m sorry. I’m going to go find Tom.” 

Anthony and Sebastian nod tightly. They watch as you quiver in your heels, hands clenched into fists at your sides. They’re proud of the way you handled yourself, though still absolutely enraged that any adult would find it appropriate to address you like that, especially in a professional setting. 

You stumble into the dressing rooms, right into your boyfriend's chest. Your mind is racing, but the minute you attach yourself to him, you break down. Shy sobs break Tom’s heart. He holds the back of your head to his chest, other hand on the small of your back and wrapped around your waist as you cry. You’re trying to stay quiet, but the attention is already on you. Chris and Robert are worried, and Zoe’s trying to act like she hasn’t noticed, but they don’t all watch as you try to console yourself with your boyfriend's warmth. 

“What happened?” Tom’s voice is soft, trying to keep this a private moment. He tries to move the both of you back into a corner, but you panic and squeeze around his waist tighter. “Baby,” 

You and Tom have been dating for six months, and although you’ve shared with him stories of your traumatic experiences as a woman living in LA, he’s never seen anything upset you like this. 

“I’m such a slut.” Your words come out so shy and small, you aren’t even sure you can hear yourself. No matter how  many times you tell yourself that your makeup and clothes don’t give men permission to make passes or feel you up, it’s getting harder to believe that your verbal consent is as strong as your clothes. Maybe you are asking for it, and in a wave of nausea, disgusted with yourself, your arms leave Tom’s waist to pull at the bottom of your borrowed dress. 

You’ve been hit on in sweats before. In ball gowns and crop tops. Somebody’s even pushed themselves against you while you wore Tom’s hoodie, but you still convince yourself that it’s your fault. That you we’re asking for it. 

Tom’s jaw sets harshly into place, and he tilts your chin upwards to meet his eye. His brown stare is hard, only adding to your distress. Maybe he agrees. Maybe he’ll blame you for what just happened. He’s probably going to break up with you. Other guys just can’t keep their hands and eyes off of you. He doesn’t want a slut for a girlfriend. 

“What the fuck did you just say, Y/N?” His tone causes you to flinch, words bouncing off of the dressing room walls. Everyone flinches, hearing only his heavy response. You try to divert your attention, but Tom squeezes your jaw, forcing your eyes back on his. “Say it again.” 

“I’m such a slut.” You sniffle, submitting beneath his fiery glare. Tensions are high as you try not to break down again. Apart from Tom, everyone in the room has watched you grow up, never losing that shy and sweet sense of yourself. You’re an exuberant light, a brilliant scene partner, a rising star who has big things in store for the future. You are many things, but a slut, isn’t one of them. 

Tom looks behind you, glaring straight at Anthony and Sebastion who are both stone eyed and still. They’ve not calmed down any since leaving the production room, instead, it seems their anger has only risen. The sight of you so distraught churns their stomachs. 

“Some asshole tried to make a pass.” Sebastion said in short, words angry and delivered as such. 

Tom’s breath hitched, his arms tightening around you and pulling you closer to his chest. His chin digs into your crown, eyes pinches shut as his hot exhale feels heavy. 

“You aren’t a slut, Y/N.” He doesn’t leave any room for argument, but you try anyways. Tom has no patience for it, and so he tilts your head back and plants his lips against yours harshly and eagerly, desperate to show you love and intimacy. “You. Aren’t. A. Slut.”

You nod, ducking your head back down into his chest as you try to believe him-- try to remember that you never asked for hands around your waist, or cupping your boobs. Wolf whistles, or handshakes that turn into forced frontal hugs. You didn’t ask for any of the harassment, no matter the outfits you wore and what they revealed.  

Tom lowers his voice, whispers melting into your hair, “This isn’t your fault, baby. Please believe me. None of this, is your fault. It’s disgusting and inappropriate, and you don’t deserve to deal with any of it.” 

You sniffle. You can’t tell him you believe him, not yet. Not when your heart is so heavy. Maybe one day you’ll believe him, but that’s just not now. 

taglist (urls with a strike through won’t let my tag) →

@deionswannabegirl @killingbxys @mauvesdior @mischiefandi @dmonchld @waddlenut @tanakaslastbraincell @hollandsxheart @quacksonhehe @tothemoonandbackx3000 @stiles-o-dylan24 @tikapollak @tomthetease @spookybooisa @geminiparkers @teen--marvel @rogersparkerbarnes @sarcasticallywitty15

[hoe-doroki]

Hi there! I don't think I've requested anything from you before ( my memory is awful though)

Anyhow I was wondering if I could get some Izuku smut with a female reader.

The scene is youre out with your girls, ( mina, hagakure, Momo) at the club having a good time. You see this green eyed stranger looking at you across the room.

His boys hype him up to ask you to dance and it ends up turning into following him back home ( I LIVE for soft dom! Deku!)

Thanks for taking the time to read and answer this!

Ugh, sorry this took so long, nonnie! You sent this in just as I was being eaten alive by a fic that’s wayyyyy longer than it needs to be. But I’m here now and you said the magic words: soft dom. Yesssss. I went college!AU for this and I hate clubs (drinking, dancing, flirting, no thanks) so I projected that on the reader a bit. Oopsie! It was hard to keep Izuku in character for this, but I did my best. Anyway, hope you like!

minors do not interact

warnings: 18+, Kaminari and M*neta leering, spanking, slight exhibitionism, alcohol (not drunk sex, though), dirty talk

rating: explicit, 18+

wc: 5k

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

Sometimes people looked at you, Mina, Momo, and Tooru and wondered how you were friends. People who had only known each of you as you were in college could never put it together. But the answer was simple: you’d been friends since high school. You were rapidly becoming different people, but those three were still your girls through and through.

That was how you, Mina, Tooru, and Momo ended up in the club that day. Two friends who really wanted to go—Mina and Tooru—and two friends who really didn’t—you and Momo. These things happen when you become friends years before you could be allowed in any club. Your college friends never would have invited you on an excursion like this—hell, none of them would ever be seen at a club either. But when Mina and Tooru showed up at your door begging you to go out and experience your twenties, you couldn’t say no. Now you were spilling out of the car Mina had called and walking on high heeled booties to a club you’d heard of but never been to.

“Obviously you actually wanted to go, Momo, otherwise you wouldn’t be wearing a top like that.”

Tooru wasn’t hiding the fact that she was ogling Momo’s very prominently displayed chest, all but bursting out of the deep v-neck she had paired with a short skirt.

“It’s only sensible for me to wear a top like this,” Momo said, her voice firm despite awkward fidgets to put her breasts a little more away. “Places like these are so hot that a shirt with a higher neckline would be soaked with cleavage sweat in a minute.”

“Mhmm, right,” Tooru said, flouncing away in her own crop top and shorts, eager to enter the club.

You’d gone simple, just tossing on a bodycon dress that you’d ordinarily pair with a sweater and tights, but that Mina had convinced you to wear on its own tonight. You crossed your arms, the chill of the evening seeping past the thin fabric even just in the short time it took to get from the heated car to the sweaty bar.

Tooru had run to the door and was nearly bouncing, waiting for the rest of you to catch up. Mina jogged over to her, looking the coolest of all of you in her black mesh crop top with nothing but a bra underneath and shorts that had the lacy scalloped hem of her underwear peaking out the top of. You hurried after them, just eager to get out of the cold. Tooru whipped the door open and the three of you piled in all at once, flashed your IDs, and then you were in.

The sound of the bass had thrummed loudly even outside, but once inside, your senses were overloaded. The music was deafening, the smell of alcohol bitter and heady, and the heat of sweaty bodies oppressive as Mina grabbed your wrist and dragged you through the crowd.

Even with Mina clearing the way, you had to elbow your way to the bar. This was the easiest part of the night—a task, something to do aside from trying and failing to work up the nerve to dance. Over the music, you yelled, “Whiskey ginger, well is fine,” to the bartender and turned to your girlfriends.

Mina and Tooru were already swinging their hips as they waited for their drinks, shimmying against each other to the beat. You and Momo were a little stiffer, not quite having the nerve or confidence to let your bodies be taken by the music.

“Girl’s night!” Mina cheered once everyone had a drink in hand. Glasses clinked and Tooru took a healthy gulp of her drink

“Can’t dance if you’re worried about spilling your drink,” Tooru said.

“Not with that attitude!” Mina said. She thrust her beer bottle in the air and then grabbed Tooru’s hand and the two of them stumbled into the mass of writhing bodies.

“You gonna follow them?” Momo asked, chewing on the straw of her drink.

“Not yet.” You had to shuffle away from the bar to make room for other patrons, moving to lean against one of the walls. “Maybe a bit of liquid courage.”

“It probably would have been wiser to do shots.”

You looked around, noticing how many people were already sending glances Momo’s way. You could draw direct lines all around the room between men’s leering eyes and Momo’s partially exposed chest, already beginning to glisten with sweat. You pursed your lips. It was nice to have Momo around as a fellow shy dancer, but it was discouraging to always be the one next to the prettiest girl in the room. People were looking right through you.

“You’ll probably get some sent your way soon enough,” you muttered.

“What?” Momo asked, her voice loud over the music.

“Nothing!” you replied. You squeezed the lime wedge into your drink and swirled it, drinking thirstily.

You hoped for one of two things. For the night to pass by quickly or for, unlikely though it was, something exciting to happen. Bars and clubs were predictable. Just once, you wanted to be surprised.

“Woah, look at her.”

Midoriya tried and failed to follow his friend’s gaze into one of the dark corners of the bar. Mineta was a good foot shorter than Midoriya, so it was hard to tell exactly where his line of sight was taking him. Kaminari seemed to hone in right away, though, pointing eagerly at the wall near the bar.

“Good find, Mineta,” Kaminari said. “Damn she’s hot.”

Midoriya followed Kaminari’s finger and noticed two girls huddled close together, sipping their drinks and observing the crowd, occasionally leaning over to talk to each other. One was dressed in a top and skirt and the other in a tight dress. The second girl’s hips were moving to the beat just slightly, as though she might not even know herself that she was doing it. She laughed at something her friend said, smile opening wide and fearlessly.

“Wow,” Midoriya said, eyes locked on her.

“What, did Mineta finally find a girl to meet your ridiculously high standards?” Kaminari asked, clapping Midoriya on the back.

“Maybe,” Midoriya murmured, watching as she waved to some other girls in the crowd.

“About time,” Mineta said. “I’ve never seen more perfect tits in my life.”

That snapped Midoriya out of his focus and he looked down at his friend, whose eyes were unblinking, scarily locked straight ahead. “What?”

“That plunging neckline perfectly showing what it would look like if I had my hands on either side of them,” he continued, his voice distant. Luckily, Kaminari smacked him upside the head.

“If you’re saying it loud enough to be heard over the music, you’re saying it too loud,” Kaminari chastised. “Besides, if Midoriya finally found a girl he likes, you should give him first dibs.”

“What?” Mineta asked, turning towards Kaminari, outraged.

“Wait, wait, I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” Midoriya said, waving his hands in front of him before his friends could have it out. “The girl I was looking at isn’t wearing a plunging neckline. Look there.”

Midoriya pointed in your direction as subtly as he could, smiling as he caught another glimpse of your beautiful laugh.

“Oh, her friend,” Mineta said.

“Yeah, that tracks,” Kaminari added, looking between Midoriya and you. “Well, you should go for it, man! Try your luck!”

Midoriya looked at Kaminari, brows furrowed. “Did you guys invite me just to get me laid or something?”

“Of course not,” Mineta said. “Your innocent face makes us look less like two fuckboys and the girls will trust us more. You’re our cover.”

“Purely selfish reasons then, okay,” Midoriya muttered. “Okay, yeah, I’ll go talk to her.”

“Do it!” Kaminari said, giving you a thumbs up. He kicked the back of Midoriya’s calf and sent him tumbling into the crowd. Amidst a song of sorrys, Midoriya made his uncertain way toward you.

Three men had already tried their luck with Momo in as many songs. She’d kindly refused each advance—no level of drunkenness had ever led Momo to so much as a sloppy makeout and you weren’t sure how many times hell would have to freeze over for that to change. You joked about each of the guys and their sad pick-up attempts, but, still, it had you feeling low. None of the guys even pretended to be interested in you. They went straight for Momo, trying their darndest to keep their eyes on hers and not drift south.

“Hello, uh, miss…”

You nearly rolled your eyes as you looked up from your drink, half gone already, to find another sucker that Momo would have to reject. As soon as your eyes landed on him, you were struck by how different this one was from the others. He didn’t look like the usual meathead dude-bro who swung by. He had a round face and freckles smattered under the roundest green eyes you’d ever seen. He looked sheepish already, anticipating the rejection he’d get from talking to a girl so far out of his league.

You felt the jolt of an elbow in your ribs and looked at Momo who was giving you intense eyes, eyebrows raised. She looked at you and then at the boy with the green hair, tilting her head, and suddenly you realized that you were “miss.”

“Oh, hello,” you said, unable to hide the confusion on your face.

“I’m Izuku,” the man said, smiling softly at you. “Would you, um, care to dance?”

You smiled. It sounded like this boy was expecting a waltz instead of the hips that were grinding against each other in the middle of this dance floor.

“I’m… not sure,” you said, so unfamiliar with the procedure here that you were floundering.  “You see, I don’t really dance.”

The boy breathed out what looked to be a sigh of relief and you suddenly noticed the muscles bulging under his t-shirt. His cute, innocent face was hiding a man who was seriously stacked. “The truth is, I don’t usually dance either. I was pressured into coming here by some friends.”

You looked over at Momo. “We know the feeling.”

“Ah, I’m so sorry, I didn’t get your names,” Izuku said, suddenly looking between the two of you.

Momo looked at you for a second then said, “I’m Momo and this is Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, Izuku.”

“You as well,” Izuku said to Momo before turning back to you. “You know, the thing about dancing is that if you just start and let go of everything, it can actually be kind of fun.”

This boy sounded just like Mina, the same argument she made every time she dragged you and Momo to one of these things. Sometimes you managed to let your guard down enough to enjoy it, sometimes not.

“It’s also more fun with someone else.”

Izuku was looking at you hopefully, and that just made his eyes even wider, such a dark forest green in the dim light of the club. You could feel yourself being pulled to him, like a string between you growing taut when Momo put a hand on your arm. “I’ll hold your drink and just come back when you want it, okay?”

Momo was giving you an intent gaze and you knew she was offering you an out. Try dancing with the boy and, if it wasn’t turning out well, say that you needed to go back to your friend. Easy.

“Okay,” you said, taking one more sip before handing your drink off to her. Then you extended you hand toward Izuku, who took it with his broadest smile yet, and led you into the mosh pit.

There was no sign of Mina or Tooru anywhere, haven fallen invisible in the throng of people. So it was just you and Izuku and a hundred strangers, all feeling the music sync with their heartbeats and then their hips, sending them moving.

You started facing each other, your hips moving from side to side, the rhythm slowly moving up so that your shoulders were shimmying, head bobbing. Izuku grinned, bopping along excitedly. He wasn’t a smooth dancer, not cool or rhythmic, but he didn’t seem to care. He put his hands lightly on your hips, encouraging you to move a little more. Asking you to let go.

You let your hips follow his touch and laughed when he rocked you from side to side, totally out of line with anything that might be sensual or suggestive. It was silly and you realized that maybe you’d been putting too much pressure to look a certain way, to be a certain kind of person. Music was for everyone, dancing was for everyone. Izuku seemed to know that already.

You wrapped your arms around his waist, giving yourself into the joy as the two of you rocked, free of expectation or anyone else’s experience. Before you knew it, the music had changed, the next song slightly slower, and your motions smoothed out to match. Izuku slid one of his hands back into yours and raised it over your head, initiating a turn. You went along and the next thing you knew, your back was pressed against his muscular chest, hips moving in tandem.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

“Mhmm.”

You could feel all corners of him pressed against you and you couldn’t help but push back into him. His chest was broader than it seemed, and you could feel the crease of his pecs, of his abs. His hands were on your hips, strong arms brushing your sides. You brought one hand up to touch his bare bicep, feeling how hard it was even unflexed.

Suddenly, you could feel Izuku’s breath on your jaw, the flutter of his lips brushing against the sensitive skin. You tilted your head, exposing the long column of your neck to him. He took that as invitation enough and pressed a kiss to it. He kissed up to your jawline and just behind your ear. He gave the lightest of sucks before you pulled away and offered him your mouth.

He took it eagerly, your lips moving at the same pace as your gyrating hips. You lost yourself in the feeling, the anonymity of kissing, hidden in a crowd of people. The rhythmic dance of your hips lulling you into a kind of easy complacency as you felt Izuku’s hand on the back of your neck, keeping your lips against his. The other one crept forward on your thigh, awfully close to your center, to the hem of your too-short skirt. He never breached either line, though. Just kept his hand there, suggesting where it could go.

“Come home with me,” you whispered when you separated for breath.

“What?” Izuku asked, face flushed, voice just carrying over the music.

You twisted back around so that you were face to face so that you could press your lips right up against his ear. “Come home with me, Izuku.”

You called for a car and sent Momo a text saying that you were going home. You hoped that Momo, Mina, and Tooru wouldn’t want to come back to your shared home anytime soon—Momo was smart enough to figure that out herself.

Twenty minutes later and you were home, you were horny, and you had someone willing and able to solve that.

“You’re not drunk, are you?” Izuku asked while you unlocked the door and ushered him in, kicking off your shoes as quickly as you could.

“Half a drink,” you said quickly. “You?”

“None.”

“Perfect,” you said, and you wrapped your arms around him once again, pulling him in for a kiss.

Izuku did you one better, grabbing hold of your thighs and picking you up like you weighed nothing. Your dress rose up over your hips and your center fell right against his crotch, grinding into it.

You were ready to give directions to your room, but Izuku didn’t carry you further than the living room before slamming your back against a wall and pressing his hips into yours. You gasped at the impact, but it was nothing painful—just surprising. Izuku dug his fingers into your thighs and said, “You seemed awfully eager for this. Desperate enough to handle a little roughness, princess? Or did you think this was gonna be easy?”

The epithet of princess send your heart plunging to your core, heat spreading throughout you. His voice was low, much lower than it had been at the club and your thighs clenched around him. “I thought…maybe…”

He’d been so sweet at the club, shy almost. You tasted his tongue on yours and he hadn’t been lying—no alcohol. The only taste passing between the two of you was the tang from your whiskey ginger. But now his grip on you and the low growl in his voice was telling you another story.

“Do you wanna be rough or do you wanna be a little princess? Or maybe both?”

“Both,” you keened desperately, breathlessly.

“I shoulda known, you grinding down on my cock like that,” he said, nibbling your exposed neck. “Can’t wait for me to fuck you, can you?”

He pulled back so you slid an inch down the wall, but his grip was tight enough to keep you from falling any further. Then his hips slammed back into yours, as though you were fucking already.

“Shit,” you whispered as he bit down on your collarbone.

“If you’re good, I’ll give you what you want,” he said. “If you’re not, it’s going to be a very long night.”

That half threat was almost enough to trigger your backtalk, see exactly what he had in mind to turn this night into a long one. But, by the same coin, you wanted to see what he had planned already.

“I’m good,” you whimpered.

“You are?” Izuku asked. “Prove it.”

He pressed his chest into yours, and you felt your breasts flatten against his pecs, your ribs trapped from a deep breath by his thick forearms.

“Strip and suck my cock.”

You unwrapped your legs from his waist and he released you to the ground. Your dress was stretchy and off in an instant, thrown to the floor, panties soon to follow. Then you were on your knees undoing his dark jeans and pulling out his long, plump cock.

“That’s a good girl,” he said, stroking your hair.

Preening at the praise, you wrapped your lips around your teeth, and swallowed him as far as you could go in one go. You wanted to be a good girl, after all.

“Shit,” Izuku said, keeping a light grip on the back of your head, but letting you do what you want, setting your own pace. You wasted no time with playful licks and kisses, immediately bobbing your head up and down and stroking the rest with your hand.

The noises that Izuku made, little huffs and whines, were cute, showing glimpses of the shy boy who had approached you at the club. He took off his shirt and you could see his abs in all their glory, even better than you’d imagined. As you sucked him off, you brought a hand up to the ridges of his lower abs and rubbed lightly, enjoying the hard muscle. After a trip down to his balls, sucking one into his mouth and you kept up your firm strokes, Izuku pulled you off, breathing heavily.

“That’s good. You’ve proven that you’re a good girl, princess.”

“I did?” you asked shyly, giving his cock a long lick just to make sure.

“Yes,” Izuku shuddered. “Stand against the wall.”

“Here?” you asked.

There were windows all over your living room, giving a clear view to the street and, more importantly, from the street into your apartment. More than that, there was no telling when your housemates would get home and, even if they knew you’d brought a boy home, they’d hardly expect him to be fucking you in the living room.

“Was I unclear, princess?”

“No,” you said, and you went to stand facing the wall. Izuku came up behind you and knocked your legs further apart, and then reached in front of you, rubbing two fingers from your slit up to your clit in a couple firm strokes. You gasped, your head falling forward, but before you could get used to the rough touch, he was gone.

“Where do you keep your condoms?” he asked casually.

“In my nightstand,” you said, moving to stand straight. He pushed your hands back against the wall, warning you not to move.

“Which room is yours?”

“The far one on the left,” you said, only turning your head to look over your shoulder.

“Good,” he said. “Don’t move.”

Then he was gone, leaving you naked, legs spread in your living room. You could feel how drenched you were—Izuku had taken a whole globule of your wetness and spread it all over your pussy. Now, standing spread, you could feel the cold air from the room on you when all you wanted was heat.

Izuku took his time in coming back, slow footfalls making their way back to the living room. You saw a box of condoms drop on the couch next to you and heard the telltale sound of one of the packages being ripped open. The next thing you knew, Izuku’s hands were on your hips, just like at the club, only now his cock was free, sliding in the slick of your pussy.

You gasped, pushing harder against the wall and thrusting your ass back toward Izuku. “Please,” you whimpered.

“Oh, you don’t have to ask,” Izuku said casually. “I know exactly what your slutty pussy wants. I can feel it dripping all over my cock. And you’ve been very good, princess, but that doesn’t mean that you’re in charge. Understand?”

“Yes, Izuku.”

You were pushed forward by the sudden force of a slap against your ass, then Izuku’s chest pressing firmly back into yours, his teeth by your ear. “Yes, who?”

“Yes, sir,” you whispered.

“That’s better.”

He went back to thrusting, one of his hands snaking around your front, through your curls to spread your lips. Your puffy clit was exposed to the air and Izuku’s fingers spreading the skin provided just the slightest bit of pressure, but not nearly enough. You whined, bending more into him, aching for more contact than the occasional brush of his cock skating across your clit. But you wanted to be a good girl too.

“Okay, sweetheart,” Izuku said, his thrusts coming to a stop as the head of his cock butterflied your opening. “You’ve been very patient. Are you ready for your reward?”

“Yes, sir,” you breathed.

You groaned in relief as he split you open, sinking into you just as he pulled his fingers in a hard, slow stroke up your clit.

“You like that, princess?” Izuku asked, making his thrusts slow and deep, his finger’s strokes on your clit languid and intentional.

“Yes,” you moaned, rocking your weight back onto your heels as you met Izuku’s every plunge.

“You feel so good,” Izuku said, his voice becoming softer and more breathy as he got lost in the feel of you. His right hand began spinning circles on your clit, the left wrapped around your middle, fingertips rubbing almost tenderly along your side.

You could only pant, leaning your head back on his shoulder as Izuku’s thrusts sped up, your climax rising within you. “Fuck,” you murmured as his left hand fell to your hip, changing the angle so that he was now pounding your g-spot with every go. He continued like that for a minute, each hit bringing you higher and higher until he suddenly stopped.

“What?” you asked, and the next thing you knew, you were being pushed to the arm of your couch, a hand to the small of your back pressing your spine parallel to the floor, and—before you knew what was happening—he was back in you, going full speed.

You gasped, your head falling down, nipples rubbing against the fabric of the couch as your tits were sent swinging. That sensation caught you, sending fresh sparks through you.

“Are you close, Princess?” Izuku breathed, his quick thrusts breaking his voice.

“Yes, sir.”

“Touch yourself, then.”

You followed his instruction immediately, snaking your hand down to your clit and rubbing it with your practiced touch. The feeling of your cold fingers against your scorching clit, Izuku’s hot cock railing in and out of you, and the occasional spark of your nipples rubbing against the couch had you on the edge of your peak in no time.

“You gonna cum, baby? You gonna cum on my cock?”

“Yes,” you whispered, the heat in your stomach burning, almost unbearable as you reached your cusp.

“I’m close too, Y/N,” Izuku whispered. “God, you’re so perfect.”

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss onto your shoulder just as you shattered around him, keening as you rubbed yourself through your orgasm.

“Fuck,” he said, and you felt his thrusts become jagged, barely leaving you every time before plunging balls deep back into you. He shuddered and, before long, he finished too, taking slow, easy thrusts in and out of you before falling fully on your back, wrapping his arms around your middle.

He stayed there for just a moment before pulling out, taking off his condom and knotting it. You’d collapsed onto the arm of your sofa, face falling down the side as you tried to get your breath back under you, the feeling back into your legs.

“Was that too much?” Izuku asked, his voice soft and gentle again as he came in front of you, gently putting his fingers under your chin to bring your face back to him.

“No, that was amazing,” you said.

Izuku smiled and brought your lips to his for a quick kiss. “I’m glad. Where do you keep your water glasses?”

“Cabinet above the sink.”

“Great.”

Izuku gave you another kiss, this time on the cheek, and then he was gone. You stayed still for a few more moments, your breath back in both hands, the heat seeping from your face slowly but steadily. You pressed yourself up, curling your spine like a cat to fight against the deep sway you’d had against the couch and the wall and gave a little shimmy to work out the kinks. You took a quick trip to the bathroom, then you went around and scooped up all the pieces of clothing that had been thrown hither and yon and carted them back to your room. You’d just flipped on the light switch and dropped them in a pile on the floor when Izuku came back with a glass of water and a wash cloth.

“You got up,” he said.

“I just didn’t want my roommates to get home to find me fucked out against the couch,” you said with a smile, taking the glass he handed to you. “We have house rules.”

“That’s fair,” Izuku said as you took a glug of water. “Lie back on the bed.”

His voice was far less demanding than before, but you went along anyway. You set the water glass on the nightstand and then lay down, allowing Izuku to spread your legs. Some of the old heat returned to your face and you looked away from him as he took the washcloth to your center.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed,” he said.

“It’s just different,” you squeaked. “After we’re done…In the full light and you’re just down there looking at me.”

“It’s only for a moment longer,” Izuku said as he cleaned you. True to his word, he took the washcloth away after a moment, pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh, and said, “You’re beautiful.”

The washcloth was added to the stack of clothes on the floor, and then Izuku was back in front of you, running his fingers lightly along the outside of your thigh.

“Thanks for tonight,” he said softly.

You sat up, putting a hand on his arm. “Stay.”

“Can I?”

His eyes were wide and innocent, like he hadn’t just fucked you raw in plain sight of the neighbors. Like he hadn’t spanked you and called you princess.

“Of course,” you said.

“I’m glad.” He smiled. “Cuddling is kind of my favorite part.”

“Is it, now?”

“I’ll prove it,” Izuku said, flipping off the light and climbing into bed behind you as you settled in. Then he had you wrapped tight in his arms, pulled flush against his chest. He let out a deep, satisfied sigh into your neck and said, “It’s just the best.”

“It kind of is,” you said, snuggling back against him.

There were a few more murmurs shared between you two but, slowly, the words fell loose, eyes falling closed. Your breathing evened out, and then there was nothing but Izuku’s arms and breath around yours.

“There’s a box of condoms on the couch!” you heard Mina screech a couple hours later, jolting you out of your deep sleep. You felt Izuku’s arms tighten protectively around you as he too let out a sharp intake of breath. “Our girl fucked!”

“Ooh, what a surprise!” Tooru cheered.

“Out here?” you heard Momo groan, her voice much more tired than Mina’s or Tooru’s.

“Dammit,” you whispered, and Izuku giggled behind you.

“That was my fault, I’m sorry.”

“Shh, just go back to sleep,” you said. “If we wake up early, we can sneak you out before any of them are up.”

“So long as I get to see you again,” Izuku murmured, nuzzling back into your shoulder.

Your chest warmed and you pulled Izuku’s arms closer against you, gripping them tightly before your hold fell lax in sleep. Tooru was right—you’d gotten the surprise you’d wanted.

“Definitely.”

[hermitcraftheadcanons]

Hermitopia AU Masterpost 1 [COMPLETE]

This is a gathering place for the events of the Hermitopia AU, as well as art and writing resulting from it (art and writing listed at the bottom). Please read the AU introduction and rules here before submitting! Feel free to join the discussions on the HCHC discord server!

(Disclaimer/PSA: All points are asks contributed by the community, the mods take no credit for the ideas within them)

If you would like specific credit in the masterpost, please sign within the text of the ask! (A dash and a signature at the end should do.) Asks not signed will be treated as anonymous.

Summary posts:

Not all elements of plot and character will be summarized, but here are a few basic things you may want to be familiar with before submitting an ask! (Unless you are purposely aiming to create an [ALTERNATE] idea for a Hermit)

1 - Starting positions and each Hermit's powers (based on the submissions from Day 1)

Summary post 2 - Interpersonal connections (based on Day 1 and 2 submissions)

Make sure to check out the second masterpost here for more up to date information, including newer art and writing!

Asks:

- (copied ask) [summarized mod comment]

- Hermitopia | Scar was experimented on by Cub. He gained dangerous powers and wings that resemble a dragon’s, but he keeps both hidden. Unless someone makes him angry. He has no idea who gave him his powers. Eventually he and Cub decided that they wanted to control things beyond their corporation, so Scar ran for mayor. (there are things to fill in but im lazy) [Scar assumes he got the powers in an accident during research. He enjoys having them but has no idea that they were intentional.]

- Hermitopia AU team ZIT is a superpowered crime-fighting trio!

- owing to a very particular set of guidelines he put in place, Joe can now copy powers if he sees them in use and can reverse-engineer how those powers are used. needless to say, this is massively overpowered in the right hands.but it got worse. at some point, there was an... incident... on ConCorp grounds, something to do with a mass amount of entities causing time dilation -- and Joe was caught in the thick of it, unable to be rescued for a while.the problem is, he got out by piecing together how the time dilation worked.needless to say, Joe... has a ridiculous powerset. so he chooses largely not to use his powers anymore unless it's absolutely dire or petty enough to shrug off as a random occurrence. nobody needs to know that one of the most powerful Unaffiliated in the city is standing right in front of them... especially not ConCorp.

- doc was a former high ranking employee of concorp before he volunteered for an experiment and it went horribly wrong. since then, the company has tried to erase any evidence of his existence. doc is now seeking revenge for all that the company did to him and is determined to tear it apart

- HI ok follow up asks will be sent later when my thoughts are coherent but concept: cleo has like super messed up healing powers where she can make healing go Too Far. also i pin her as unbound, considering, like, everything - shovel-shuffle

- So, his power was meant to be super-regen, right? except things don't always quite go to plan. Someone volunteered for the powers surgeries and is arguably dead. Etho is a name shared by the many many clones that developed themselves out of the leftovers. They're not quite individuals, not quite a hivemind. Any one of them has no fear of death because the others will continue, but they all act independently around their overarching goal. (which I won't snitch about) - DragonKay

- Bdubs was a hero. Key word? Was. He climbed the ranks through the government, he was a loyal and dutiful member of society, and he used his plant manipulation powers to subdue evil-doers without hurting them. But he’s always been a friendly guy, and he couldn’t help himself—talking to the Unrestrained, especially those in custody, was interesting! ...but it’s a slippery slope to walk, being friendly with the enemy and not sympathizing to their cause. Nobody knows where he is now, but there are rumours of a vigilante with similar abilities, and his three compatriots, two of whom he helped escape from ConCorp... They call themselves the nHo. - slimetek [Bdubs deserted Concorp while helping Doc escape after his experiment went wrong]

- Concorp managed to make a device that allows animals to speak or translate their thoughts into writing. This means that the good old mayor Scar has a certain cat giving some advice on how to run the city.

- Iskall is an assasin/mercenary against their own volition. An accident they'd rather forget almost killed them, and in exchange for their freedom and free will they got to live as a cyborg. Though its hard to forget with the implant that covers their eye and the limb of cool metal hanging at their side - @ghastly-ghostie [Iskall works for Concorp off-books, bound by the debt owed to them for the life saving experimental modifications]

- so I think grians original powers could be like cloning, but something goes wrong and the clones are different people. as a result of the duplication process, some funky magic rocks are made. the clones decide to take most of the funky rocks and run off, leaving grian with one rock that gives him some new abilities and the clones' rocks give him others. also uhh mechanical wings bc yes. so grians plot is him trying to find them while also causing problems on purpose. infinity stones. update to my grian ask from earlier, I had better ideas: the rocks are old like magic things that grian finds before the cloning and ends up collecting, but his clones snatch them - simplyskipper [some of the alternate Grians are aligned with different factions in Hermitopia, while the locations of others are farther or unknown]

- Hermitopia- Impulse has solid-light powers. He has golden crystals implanted in his hands, which he can reflect light through to solidify it into all sorts of shapes. This can be used to make barriers, projectiles, and much more, though more detailed constructs take more time.- @mleemwyvern

- Hermitopia AU Poultry man is a well-known chaotic neutral leaning towards good, as a one of the unrestrained.

- I think Team ZIT should be a little be wild card-y, that's how they act after all! [they are employed by the government for standard crimefighting, but they don't always take Scar's word at its intended meaning and often play a bit on the chaotic side when given instructions]

- [Hermitopia AU] False is an antihero/vigilante type who's specialty is not defined by powers or the such, but just... the absolute skill of being able to dual wield two (more sci-fi era) short swords. Maybe someone upgrades them to be "enchanted" (electrical, fire, etc. something that tech could do well probably). She's willing to be paid-for-hire, but if you go past her moral line she's also willin' to backstab you. -- @cheshire-vex [she's a free agent who sort of drifts between Concorp, the government, and whoever else will pay her on a job-by-job basis]

- Hermitopia impulse has more connections then one may think. He has ties to people pretty much everywhere, for reasons unknown. There is a 100% someone will come and greet him wherever he goes. [the greetings are usually friendly]

- Hermitopia Au! Keralis is a hero who most people wouldn't expect to be too skilled at fighting. His power is similar to hypnosis so he has no need to get very physical. Yeah, that changed when some bastard villain decided to attack his friends shop. [that incident caused his employer Scar to realize his untapped potential for protecting people and assign him to a few more high-stakes jobs]

- Hermittopia!TFC was one of ConCorp’s first experiments and as such his powers are a bit less...refined then the others. He has geokinetic powers, allowing him to psychically control rocks and other earthen materials. He used to be one of the VEX programs top graduates, but has since parted ways with them for unknown reasons and now operates his own plans of keep crime in Hermitopia under control. -lechairpourriedegrianri [he is considered Unaffiliated and both Concorp and the government largely leave him to his own devices, since he is helping to keep the city together]

-Wels doesn't have powers. He does have a super-suit made of fire and heat resistant carbon fibre (like the material used for the space shuttle) and has a built in hologram projector. One time, he used the hologram projector to project an image of himself, which everyone thought was a clone. He didn't have the heart to tell them otherwise. (AKA everyone thinks Wels has powers but he doesn't) -Silverwolf53 [he got the suit in Project VEX]

- To follow up on the Impulse ask- Team ZIT are a space-themed superhero team. Government-aligned, at least for now.Tango has meteor-like powers, he can shoot fire from his hands and feet and often uses this to propel himself at high speeds. Zed has gravity powers! He can increase or decrease the density of any object, to the point of making small black holes. They all have space-themed costumes, and it was probably Zed's idea. - @mleemwyvern

- TFC was the first participant in project VEX

- Grian was an attempted success. It fixed some problems with Etho's unintended cloning, but at the same time created some problems of its own, seeing as the clones appeared to have a life of their own.It's fine, though. It's probably fine

- I would say Grian is unrestrained, a bit like Etho, Chaotic in his own way. Does not activily Try to hurt people, but does mostly what he wants for fun.-Ciara

- Xisuma is a civilian- he has hero friends, but despite all their teasing he’s never wanted to go through VEX training. But in the night, the unrestrained Void walks the streets [Void is a symbiotic creature made of nothingness that uses Xisuma's body as a substitute physical form]

- Bdubs was such a good man... he could be trusted to look after Doc, couldn’t he? Somebody had to oversee him, somebody who was reliable and would never, ever consider betraying the mayor and ConCorp...They let their guard down, and Bdubs got curious. Bdubs made a friend.And then they lost him.- Slimetek

- The hels hermits are considered evil by default. How do you spot these clones, how could you protect yourself? Well in the past it was a lot easier, just look for their red eyesNowadays contacts exist but that doesn't stop people trying to call the police on tango, calling him a hels. Hes netherian, they have unnatural eye colours and their iris fills the entire eye, hes not evil but if people keep doing this hes gonna be!

- Beef woke up from his brain surgery to receive telepathy powers, took one look into the mind of the overseer, and noped put of there as fast as he could go.He's on very public record. After all, the mind control he may be capable of is a very convenient explanation for anyone who turns against concorp... ~DragonKay

- Hypno can’t control minds.They say he does. It’s why he’s named Hypno, after all.In reality, he can’t control people like that... but he can control what they see.Your best friend might look like your greatest enemy. A pit of lava might look like solid ground. A 100-foot drop might look like a step down.It’s a good thing he’s a hero, and a good thing he keeps his true powers hidden beneath a guise of low-level hypnotism. There’s no telling what he could do if they let him go. [he works for Concorp, helping to protect VEX trainees from people trying to harm them before they get a chance to finish the program, as well as keeping other resources safe]

- The 9th Street Incident [referring to an earlier Impulse comment] was a friendly greeting. That particular version of Etho just thought that drawing weapons would be a friendly greeting for Impulse, but Tango and Zed seem to disagree

- They still don’t trust Bdubs. He was with the government for a long time, and things are hard out there on the run. Besides, they don’t know what he got up to there. ConCorp could have any sort of information on him, something that might scare him back.Bdubs understands this. He doesn’t want to go back. He’d hate to go back....but they think he will, and maybe there’s something he’s not telling them. An ace that ConCorp has yet to play.- Slimetek

- Mumbo works for concorp as an engineer specialising in robotics, most recently taking on the task of maintaining Iskall's cybernetics that somehow they just keep damaging. Iskall assures him they're just.. very clumsy. So far Mumbo hasn't caught on.

- Ren's power is that hes a werewolf, but he only found out when he was in his late teens with his childhood friend Iskall. He still feels guilty about it, he did kill his best friend afterall. Or so he thinks.He's lived off grid ever since, too overwhelmed with grief and guilt to rejoin society. Most assume he's dead too - @ghastly-ghostie [Ren dropped Iskall off to Concorp as a last ditch effort, running away before he could see whether they took his friend in or not. They did, starting Iskall's plotline. Iskall told Concorp about Ren's abilities, triggering a panic in the Concorp ranks at the fact that Ren is a superhuman being created by some force other than their own project]

- Where does Void come from? The same place all powers come from.Little did they know, something survived the crash and has taken a human host. Maybe it's not the only one...No, that place is not Concorp. Concorp's original goal was to develop technology by reverse-engineering from a crashed alien spaceship. These aliens did gene-editing the way some people do nose jobs, so they adapted that technology, too.~DragonKay

- i've already said a bit about it in the discord but i have hermitopia cleo brainrot. joe being there was able to save her by giving her the regen powers along with her puppeteering telekinesis power. anyways cleo is presumed dead, sent by concorp into a mission as fodder basically until zit could arrive. but now there's is one (1) bitter undead vigilante against concorp that is presumed dead

- Stress’s name has a few meanings in relation to her. Whenever she gets too angry or /stressed/, she transforms into the StressMonster, a monster that feeds off of other people’s stress to become more powerful. Luckily, the monster is rarely seen, but does terrible things when she is. She’s one of the most feared creatures in Hermitopia. Stress hates her and tries her best to hide her from her friends, but it can backfire sometimes. - @guster-animations

- to follow-up on Joe being presumed dead: remember the time dilation incident he was stuck in? ConCorp figured it was best to cut their losses and not try to send anyone in to rescue him -- it would be a pointless mission. so they abandoned him, quietly announced that he had died in the line of duty, and put the affected area under high security clearance in order to prevent any future accidents. they figured he was already dead. and Joe figures, given that they up and abandoned him, maybe it's for the best that they continue to figure just that. he changed his last name to "Hills" -- a joke about the biome containing the time anomaly -- and otherwise proceeded to stay under the radar. he still uses the time dilation area as a base of operations, sometimes; it's very useful to have a hideout that people physically cannot get into/out of without his direct assistance. is he nursing a grudge, coming up with some convoluted scheme to get back at the paramilitary group for abandoning him? or does he just want to live a relatively normal life off the grid? who knows. that's the Joe [REDACTED] Hills difference. -@betweenlands

- False has some big scary power that is almost Eldritch she just happens to prefer a sword and doesn’t really care for who she works for as long as they’re paying... (they don’t need to know of the power that had harmed the ones she loves the most)

- Keralis once encountered Void sulking around where Xisuma worked. So fearful for his friend’s safety, he used his power on Void and told him to go away. Apparently the charm is still active, because if Void spots Keralis anywhere, he’ll turn tail and run. No, it’s not because he’s scared. Absolutely not.

- Grumbot serves as a sentient supercomputer created by Mumbo for Grian. Grian is using Grumbot for... various activities, all of which harmless, but a certain evil clone [Helsknight] has reverse engineered the technology. Concorp would like for Mumbo to give them the tech, but mumbo stuck some eyes to the computer, got emotionally attached, and refuses to give up his baby boy.

- When Impulse hears his friend/colleague Bdubs has been "taken over" by the mind-controller [Beef], he wants to go on an off-the-books mission to rescue him! Just giving up like they were told to isn't in his nature.Of course the rest of ZIT are with him. Heroes save people! It's what they do!~DragonKay

- Hermitopia is a mixture of sleek futuristic and cyberpunk in terms of style. It really depends on where you live and work (ik this doesnt include any hermits but whatever) - @ghastly-ghostie

- I wonder if Cleo's overactive healing powers affect herself and if any injuries she receives immediately heal over like wolverine or deadpool

- Ren used to be friends with Cleo too, but then she died. Strangely enough, she died on the same day that Ren killed Iskall. Ren’s lost all his friends. It’s hard living in isolation when there’s no one left that even cares about you. (Unless— no, that’s impossible.)

- I was thinking about Biffa, like you do. And Biffa would totally be some robot that was created by Project VEX in its early stages, however they realised fast that it was easier to use humans and give them powers, maybe its not their strong suit with robots. But Biff went sentient and glitched and was scrapped so hes just out there doing his thing. Hes a wildcard and plays for which side he wants at the time, sometimes he'll help or sometimes hes the one causing trouble. He looks pretty similar to a android like in Detroit:Become human but hes a bit uncanny and eerie, maybe its the eyes or the blood red armour. Powerwise, he's got more strength than a human does, mainly because he isn't limited like others are. try not to get punched by him, it'll hurt! [He's convinced Concorp will destroy him if they find out he's alive and Unaffiliated] -lucodak

- Going off of my thing about hermotopia impulse having friends everywhere....this may include the nho. Okay, they beat him to a pulp on one of his solo patrols once, but theey felt bad n patched him up! He has to keep it a secret. He brings them dinner alot. And checks in on them.

- Beef is the perfect cover-up for Bdubs’ desertion. ConCorp doesn’t want any other employees getting bright ideas, now, do they? Nor do they want employees getting nosy and trying to figure out where Bdubs went. They don’t have to tell people what Beef’s powers are. They just release that he developed powers after brain surgery, and a rumour that he was spotted lurking around before Bdubs suddenly betrayed ConCorp... and people draw their own conclusions. -Slimetek

- xB is pretty sure he’s supposed to be evil.I mean, that’s what sentient AIs usually end up being, according to a quick internet search. And yet he’s... not. Or maybe he’s just on the wrong side. - Slimetek

- Yes impulse is friends with the nho....what he doesn't know? He's....easily susceptible to hypnosis. Very easily.......Of course, after impulse is basically a very tired n warm cuddle bug, so, cuddle piles tend to happen after all information is spilled. He must've fallen asleep at their apartment again! Whoops! But it's okay.....they take good care of him if he does! [Beef is using his mind reading ability on Impulse without his knowledge, to make sure that he hasn't spilled their location and to predict the government's next moves. He feels slightly bad about it but feels that it is necessary for the nHo's survival.]

- So far, Grian has only ever encountered two of his clones, NPC Grian and Robot Grian. Technically three, if one were to count Ariana Griande. Grian doesn't really, but some do. [Ariana Griande is a popular musician in Hermitopia who is building a career using the magical stone of voice enhancement she recieved through the cloning process]

- To handle the two Grumbot issue: the one working with Helsknight can be Jrumbot, a legion of robot drones meant to work as Grumbot’s physical form that ended up being hijacked by Helsknight and turned against ConCorp

- There...aren’t a lot of “normal” animals left in Hermittopia. ConCorp took one look at the animals populating the city and decided that, hey, they could make some improvements. Species after species, they modified their behavior, appearance, internal structure, whatever they could fix, tweak, or add. They were just improving their lives and the lives of the citizens of Hermittopia, after all, but the new animals quickly outcompeted the old for resources and habitats. And if it makes it easier for ConCorp to stick a camera in one or two of them, or set up robotic animals to keep a better eye on the city, no harm, no foul, right?(Bonus: there is one (1) singular cat left in Hermittopia, resulting in a spy movie-style heist where two teams of Hermits attempt to “rescue” the cat simultaneously. The cat keeps wandering away from both teams. Shenanigans ensue)- Adonis [the cat is Jellie, who orchestrated the competition between Team ZIT and Cleo and Joe for her own entertainment, getting away from both parties in the end]

- The Leak:Not all mutations are the result of controlled experiments! If some alien tech got away from the crash site, concorp never would have picked it up. It might have got into nature, not as refined as they made it in the labs but causing little changes here and there. Ren may have become a werewolf from being bitten by a mutant wolf~DragonKay

- Impulse is able to use his powers to create illusions or male things appear invisible! Sort of. After all, light dictates what we see. It takes a lot of focus, though, so it's not that practical. -@rayveewrites

- The one thing Hels wasn't able to steal was the cloning technology, hence his hostility with Concorp -- he needs the cloning device, because how else is the void going to get a body of their own? - SilverWolf53

- *glances at the hermitopia werewolf ask* okay but what if the same mystery people who made ren into a werewolf also created jevin, and maybe Etho? idk if either of them have been given any hermitopia headcanons yet lol. but im sure the same people who made a werewolf could make a sentient slime (or perhaps rescue one) or make... whatever etho is. [Since the "second organization" is an incorrect assumption believed by Concorp, Jevin was created when he came in contact with a waterway contaminated by The Leak. Concorp assumes he was created by an opposing organization and not by accident, and therefore would like to bring him in along with Ren.]

- hermitopia - mumbo and grian were friends back when cloning experiments were still happening (or . as friendly as you can be with someone who's treating you like a lab rat), but after everything went wrong and grian escaped, mumbo has his memories wiped nd thats why he's trusted w iskall's stuff? bc he inherently remembers working on high-level things without knowing where he learnt it - muscle memory, yk?anyway massive angst with grian maybe recognising mumbo, but not the other way round, and trying to rekindle their friendship? and that's where grumbot comes in? -gin [Mumbo's memory was wiped so that he would forget the deadly purpose of Iskall's cybernetics, which he was working on at the same time as the Grian project in the background. Mumbo does not remember creating Grian's mechanical wings or Iskall's arm and eye, and he has no memory of either individual previous to "meeting" Iskall as the person assigned to his repair and upkeep.]

- Etho doesn't so much have powers as he is powers. All the powers the ‘original’ had went into creating him; now he just exists, as whatever sort of being he is. Not a human one, that much is obvious. ~DragonKay [Etho has no powers beyond the hivemind and his training, due to the error in the experiment that caused the clones]

- Mumbo started the button as a joke. A nonsense social expirement to see how much people want worthless signs of status. Unfortunately things got out of hand, and violent too. But hey! It's not his fault that the five special anomalous stones were misplaced into the prize dispenser! It was just chance that they fell into the hands of the clone of the worst gremlin in the city! Don't fire him! [He was not fired, but Cub was Decidedly Unhappy with him for a good long while]

- Void mostly trashes ConCorp facilities- trying to figure out if any of his siblings survived the spaceship crash, but occasionally he’ll pilfer from a bakery, because X is a health nut and Void just wants a gods damned cookie [Void very much dislikes unseasoned chicken]

- If the Stress Monster gets too big, too dangerous, Cleo is sworn under oath to Stress to zap her with her healing powers. Cleo doesn’t like to do it, overhealing a stressed Stress makes her so calm she gets knocked out for a couple of days, but Stress can take a small comfort in the fact that at least one person out there can stop her

- Ooh with the self healing Cleo she'd be able to develop a small amount of super strength, with how the mind keeps from going full throttle because it would destroy the body once she gets over it it's hysterical strength whenever she wants [it is quite painful, but a good backup plan]

- Being a hive mind of disposable clones that can spawn new copies at will, it can sometimes be hard for the Etho Entity to remember that it is indeed a big deal for other people when they get hurt. This can make him come off as callous to those around him, placing him firmly in the "villain" category in most citizen's books, but he really doesn't intend any harm!

- Grian used to be tall, but then the cloning happened. With each clone they stole a little bit of his height making him the short man he is today. He needs to capture those clones and get his height back. [Grian isn't entirely sure how to accomplish this, but he's dead set on trying! He misses being tall!]

- While Grian was perfectly fine with Ariana Griande living her own life, he did insist on one thing.Her "older brother" getting backstage access whenever she was on tour. He's very proud and supportive of her and her music career.

- Mumbo is perfectly content working in tech, watching the other hermits get up to crazy shenanigans. Except of course, there was that one time he was out testing some new gear and accidentally saved a crowd from some villains... and there were all those times after too...But hey! It’s not his fault that people like him, and he certainly isn’t going to get caught by Concorp during his after hours activities. [Mumbo considers himself an accidental hobbyist, not thinking he has the nerve or the skill for proper hero work. Time will tell if he's right about that or not...but unfortunately, he probably is. This should be fun.]

- There’s still some people overseeing VEX, even over Cub. They’re the ones that push Cub to do certain experiments or to scrap one. They’re the ones to give Cub the decision for Iskall’s life debt. Scar was under them too for the longest time, but eventually he wanted out. Cub still wanted in. They were still in the right, right? That’s what they tell him. He’s starting to doubt it. [Cub is way too invested in everything he's built to even think about going rogue now, but he does resent and occasionally question the judgement of his superiors increasingly as his project begins to fail more and more often. He also fears that Scar's shift in career will be seen as a betrayal, rather than as a tactical attempt to gain the company influence in the government.]

- Been thinking about the impulse + nho asks and just,,, what would happen if concorp/the government found out? It cant be good with interrogation/hypnosis on both sides (incase you cant tell,, the brainrot got me as well) (apologies if this is a mess im excited) [Hypno is assigned to set up an illusionary conversation to make Impulse reveal nHo location to Concorp and government agents while thinking that he's actually talking to the nHo in a random encounter]

- The one mind Beef can't read is Etho's. Their hivemind is just too weird for him to comprehend. If he ever tries to listen in, it sounds like just a bunch of static from an old TV.

- for hermitopia au!: Out of most of the heros, the most reckless may be team zit. sure they tell themselves they'll plan out missions but it's hard when they share a braincell and tango just runs in. impulse and zed share a look everytime and have to run after him to make sure he doesn't get too hurt or overwhelmed by the enemy. in their defence its hard to plan ahead against an enemy when you dont know what they are thinking.-lucodak ["You might not have known what they were thinking, Tango, but we'd generally like you to know what you're thinking!"]

- i bet ConCorp really wants to make it out like theres some secret shady organization creating all these people with mutations, rather than their own operatives deserting and their own failure to contain dangerous chemicals... whether its malicious coverups or just ignorance to the fact they messed up, wonder what would happen if that sort of thing came to light...? [If they found out that the unintentional superhumans were a result of the poorly-contained crash site? Cub would lose his job...maybe worse. If Cub found out (and he hasn't, yet) he would do everything in his power to keep that information from his superiors.]

- (paraphrased) Impulse accidentally walks in on heroes and agents breaking down the doors of the nHo's hideout and confronting them. Scar claims that they did so on information Impulse himself provided and thanks him for his service. Impulse, feeling confused and betrayed, resists Hypno's attempts to illusion him back to Scar's side and flees the scene with the nHo, knowing very little other than the fact that he doesn't want to be manipulated by the government any more (and still not knowing that Beef has been reading his mind)

- Impulse may have been labeled a traitor. But do you really think that Impulse, secret rebel, starting to learn how dangerous and corrupted Concorp really is, wouldn't let his best friends know about the danger they might be in? I think Team ZIT is more loyal to each other than to the government. - @mleemwyvern [ Impulse's first stop after escaping with the nHo is to find a place to secretly meet Tango and Zedaph and tell them about the way he was tricked. It takes a lot of explaining and a lot of trust, but they eventually decide to believe his claims and are left with a choice: will they openly go rogue and become a target along with Impulse and the rest of the nHo, or are they better off using their established image and reputation to keep an eye on the government heros' movements from the inside?]

- (two asks combined, paraphrased) Ren runs out of supplies and decides to head back into the city, confident in his ability to stay off the grid after so many years of experience and such a long time away. Once there, he runs into Doc, and they hit it off quite quickly. However, the more Ren talks the more Doc realizes - with his ex-Concorp knowledge - that Ren matches the description of Iskall's main target exactly. He warns Ren, who is then faced with the knowledge that Iskall is alive and assigned to kill him...so many questions and so many tears to follow...

- Why did Hermitopia start needing heroes? When the Unrestrained started to appear, if course. Why did the Unrestrained start to appear? A question asked a little less. When did the VEX program start? When did they start taking more risks? When did they stop caring about certainty and safety and shift towards trying to push boundaries they weren't ready to? People can be so enamoured with the concept of superhuman abilities, something bright and glorious and good- and perhaps they could have that too- they don't ask all the right questions. It's all an elaborate game of damage control, don't let the flashy heroics fool you, they've made mistakes, terrible, terrible mistakes, and now there are villains running loose with powers they fooled ConCorp into giving them. Are they villains? Are they victims? Does it matter? They're causing problems. [Project VEX has developed into a solution to its own problems, a self perpetuating cycle...one that Cub, as a businessman, is very familiar with. It's what keeps the wheels of industry turning. It's what keeps innovation creeping forward. It wasn't intentional, not this time...but if it keeps his project alive, he'll take it.]

- One time, Jevin had narrowly dodged being captured by Concorp. He was laying low in the forest out of town, when he had a run-in with some sort of wolf creature. Thankfully, claws and teeth couldn't exactly hurt him anymore, so he just played dead until it gave up.When the moon set, the wolf-thing slowly transformed into a human being. Ren was horrified at the thought he'd lost control and hurt someone- again- but Jevin assured him he was fine. Jevin got the feeling that the werewolf needed a friend, and Jevin himself needed a place to stay for a while... -RayveeWrites [Ren and Jevin are not currently in the same location, but they each have a means of contacting each other for help if needed]

- Worm Man wasn't a well- known super, but plenty of people have noticed that he seemed to vanish at the same time Team ZIT first started active duty. Those people have also noticed that one of the members has a very similar power set to WM.Officially, that's just a coincidence. Officially.-RayveeWrites [Zedaph was trying to get some unofficial practice while still in training in the VEX program]

- A common misconception is that Bdubs conjures up his vines from nowhere. He can't.Like any plant, his vines grow from seeds. They grow unnaturally fast, when Bdubs wills it, but they have to come from seeds. Where do these seeds come from, you may ask?Well, a long time ago, Bdubs ingested some strange fruits. Somehow, in wild defiance of human biology, the seeds contained in those fruits worked their way into his muscles and germinated. Some of the roots worked their way into his brain and fused into it; the rest spread through his muscles, grew beneath his skin, coiled around his bones. Thanks to the way the vines connected to his brain, Bdubs is able to command the vines, and their magic, at will.The vines produce seeds; some stay in his body to replace the old ones when they die, and most work their way into a pair of 'seed pods' in his wrists. Bdubs provides the nutrients, the energy; the vines provide the seeds, the magic. As an extra bonus: if the vines were to be totally removed from Bdubs' body, he would be at best extremely weak, and at worst dead. The vines have grown into his muscles, to the point where they've essentially replaced them in some areas. It's fortunate that they connected with his mind so early on, otherwise he'd be dead. -RayveeWrites [Concorp developed the fruit, and the fact that Bdubs is evidence of the unlikely success of that experiment makes them all the more angry at his betrayal]

- A lot of excellent xB information (it's too long to copy but please read it it's very good)

- Iskall has exactly one (1) failed assignment. That assignment? The kill or capture of Stress. Stress and Iskall have been, or should it be were now, friends for a very long time, since before Iskall even met Ren. So one can imagine the stress this causes Iskall, to be told to kill his one remaining friend that he knows is alive. Of course, this stress is quite enough to to Stress's Stress Monster into one it's strongest yet seen forms, allowing for Stress to then get away. (1/2)(2/2) Of course, Con Corp doesn't- and can never- know the true reason that Iskall cannot kill or capture Stress. If they knew, if they subjected Stress to the same hell he's in- no, that cannot happen. So Iskall hires False to protect Stress, to interfere whenever they send him on a mission for her. Luckily, False is good at keeping secrets when she wants to, and this one she'll keep. But as far as Con Corp knows, Iskall has severe stress and trauma from being a cyborg, and that's why he fails. [This all adds up to a monumental waste of Concorp's time and money, which also results in False getting payed, so all parties involved are happy except for Concorp >:)]

- Impulse would take a bullet for his teammates, and he knows they might be about to take one for him, keeping him updated on what's going on government side of this... slander. Still, Tango and Zed are great actors, and if he didn't know better, he might be a little worried they would *actually* be hunting him down in the name of justice [Tango and Zed are now being sent on missions to retrieve Impulse, which they must pretend to lose believably. They occasionally overestimate their friend's abilities and give him a few more close calls than he'd like, but overall the ruse is holding up.]

Writing:

- Wels, Hels, TFC, and Grumbot

- Bdubs Concorp promotion and desertion

- Joe Hills in his time dilation hideout

- Etho clones, ZIT, and the nHo

- Keralis and Void

- [ALTERNATE] Reveal of Impulse's situation with the nHo

Art:

- Impulse suit design

[alyss01]

|[Relaxing]|

[Corpse Husband x GN! Writer! Reader]

_______________________________________________

Genre: fluff

Word count: 1.4 K

Requested: no

To request: Requests are open! To send a request send an ask or submission.

Synopsis: You're a writer and overall pretty creative individual, and when Corpse finishes a tiring stream he just wants to be beside you.

Warnings: -

Authors note: This started as a Writer! Reader x Corpse one shot but it turned into just cute fluff at the end. I have no regrets.

Masterlist

_______________________________________________

Corpse had known you were a creative spirit all along, with that came a sleep schedule that was at least as concerning as his own. He however didn't mind that he had someone to stay up with.

Usually you kept the notes for your works on the desk in your room, occasionally he would find you in your current predicament.

You sat on top of the coffee table, papers strewn around you, on the table, floor, and couch, and your laptop on your lap as you typed away. The white light that illuminated from the device lit up your face.

A pencil was in your hand as you scribbled some details down in one of the corners of a somewhat empty paper, you typed a short while before narrowing your eyes at the screen and tapping to back of the pencil against your head.

Corpse leant against the door frame of his gaming room, watching you lost in thought as you typed away. He had just finished a stream and it was about midnight, although you either didn't seem to know, or to care.

He could see the empty mug beside you on the table, and wondered how often you had gone to refill it by now. He coughed to let you know he was there as a small smile tugged on his lips.

You put your hand in the air, a silent signal for him to wait a bit more as you finished typing. When you did he could see you use the track pad to supposedly hit safe, before putting the device on top of some of the papers and hopping off the table.

On your way you carefully avoided the papers as you moved to his side.

When he came in arms length you opened your arms and wrapped them around him as he did the same. You buried your head in his neck as you inhaled his cologne, "how was the stream?"

His voice was hoarse, as it often was when he finished streaming, "it was fine." You smiled as you pulled away, and Corpse pressed a small kiss to your forehead.

He motioned to the mess of papers around the coffee table, where one spot was empty, the spot where you had just stood up from, "I'm assuming your project is going well?"

You eagerly nodded as you proudly looked at all the pages strewn about, it probably were enough to make a book out of on itself.

"It's going great, I just finished another chapter." He nodded along as you moved to the couch to clear some space so corpse could sit down.

When you piled up the papers and put them on the coffee table you grabbed your mug to move to the kitchen, "what do you want?" You asked Corpse who fell down on the couch.

"I'll take the same as you." He said as you hummed and prepared your drinks. You made sure to put some honey mixed with sugar in Corpse's mug, knowing it was how he prefered his coffee and in the hope that the honey would help his throat.

When you returned he was carefully moving some of the papers from the table to make space for the mugs. He was careful with them, knowing how much time you spent on them and how important they were.

From experience you knew Corpse usually just wanted to sit together after his streams, comfortable in each other's presence.

After helping him relocate the papers you sat down beside him as he wrapped his arms around your waist. He scrolled through his phone with his free hand while you pulled the laptop back on your lap and continued typing.

You were well aware that Corpse usually preferred to stay silent and bask in the comfortable atmosphere around you after a tiring stream, more often than not you'd tell him about the things you had done that day or the latest progress in your stories. Other times you'd just tell him about things you'd read or found.

Corpse found peace in just listening to your voice, it soothed him in a way he was unfamiliar with before the two of you started dating. He didn't mind however, he found it sweet.

More than once it had happened that eventually he would doze off beside you, other times he would just listen and nod along.

You didn't care however, as long as he was comfortable you were happy.

This night however it wasn't your voice that lulled him asleep softly beside you, it was the rhythmic typing of your keyboard that did.

After what must have been a few hours you could feel the weight of his head on your shoulder. It made you realize how late it had truly gotten, and you closed your laptop and carefully moved to put it on the coffee table.

You pulled a few blankets that laid on the side of the couch, having been left there after the amount of times either one of you fell asleep.

Carefully draping it over your sleeping boyfriend, you allowed his body to slide down so his head rested on your lap.

With your limited movements to try and keep Corpse asleep you tried to position him as comfortably as you could. You grabbed another blanket and wrapped it around your own shoulders.

As you watched him, your hands found his hair as they weaved between the locks. It made a smile form on your face as you watched his relaxed faced that unconsiously moved closer to the warmth of your hands.

"Goodnight." You whispered, well aware he wasn't conscious to hear you anyway.

The appartement was quiet, few lamps on that created a dim light in the room. Your sleep schedule had deteriorated to the point that you knew the exhaustion that hung over your body would eventually claim your consciousness as well.

It did, not much longer than an hour after Corpse had fallen asleep as well. Your fingers were still between weaved through his hair by the time morning came, not that either of you cared. The curtains had been closed and blocked the sun from invading the bitter sweet scene in the room.

Corpse was the first to awake, grateful for any hour of sleep he'd managed to get. A small groan escaped his lips as he recognized the familiar position he was in.

He carefully twisted around to free your hands from his hair as he sat up. He had never been a morning person, so he allowed your body to slide to the side into his arms.

He laid back down as he draped his blanket over the two of you and cocooned you two in it.

His arms were wrapped around your form as your head leaned against the arm rest of the couch. He shuffled down and rested his head against yours as he closed his eyes.

At the same time he was well aware that it was unlikely for him to fall asleep once more, he was not ready to leave your warmth and get up.

Many nights he had spent in a similar position, awake with you in his arms as you slept. There had been many reasons why he woke up, the insomnia that plagued his body not allowing him more than a few hours of rest.

He had stayed with you to bask in your warmth more times than he could remember. He liked to see your body relax in his arms like this, and he knew he would never get enough of it.

The furrow of your brow from the night before had disappeared, and you looked truly relaxed as you slept, a sight he loved.

At times you stirred, something he had grown used to, and allowed you room to change your position as you wanted. Your arms rested against his chest as you shuffled closer to his warmth.

A smile formed on Corpse's face at the sight, and he felt at peace. No matter what went on in either of your lives, these were the moments the two of you could truly relax.

[sukiglycerin]

the scrapbook documenting denki kaminari and his experiences with love, subtlety, and volumes of manga || denki kaminari.

* pairing: denki kaminari x oblivious!reader (gender neutral!)

* genre: fluff, normal conflict(??) but not much, uni!au, friends to lovers, mutual pining, idiots to lovers

* words: 4.5k

* warnings: brief scenario of intoxication, mentions of maidgirls (one of them has a gun because mey-rin from kuroshitsuji), reader has past bad experiences with relationships, bakusquad is supportive af, reader is oblivious (duh), i love sero, side kiribaku

* original request: Can you do a fluff Denki crushing on the reader but the reader is really oblivious to him just badly flirting and bakusquad gets annoyed and helps them get together 😳

* a/n: this turned out much longer than expected, but i’m satisfied with the turn-out! i call this a “scrapbook” because it’s like a collection of short moments. i’m experimenting with this writing style, so i hope you enjoy it! i started writing reader by basing them off of this one pretty girl i know (and very much like), but then reader started morphing into me projecting myself and oh boy. yeah. fun fact: i actually own the kuroshitsuji manga volume with the maidgirl on the cover (volume 22).

“please don’t like me,” is the first thing you say to denki kaminari. you don’t know who he is, though, when you say these words. all you know is that he’s presumably a college student like you and that he’s quite extroverted. behind him stand three of his friends giggling to themselves. it’s apparent they’re playing a practical joke. 

the first thing the blond boy said to you was, “hey, you’re cute, i like you.” that was thirty seconds ago, after you’d put your manga down when you noticed his friends pushing him towards you.

he cracks a grin upon your response. “alright.” he puts his hands up in mock surrender. “the point still stands - you’re cute.” his eyes fall to the manga you set down. “hey- is that detective conan?”

it’s an old, worn copy of detective conan’s first volume.

“oh, yeah,” you reply.

“can i see it?” he asks. you nod.

he picks up the book, surprisingly gentle with its fading corners and creased spine. 

"i used to read the series all the time," he says quietly, reliving a memory in his eyes. "i always tried to solve the crime before conan." 

you're not sure what to answer, but he introduces himself before you can.

"i'm kaminari, by the way." he slips a piece of paper in your manga, setting the book down on your table. "text me."

“please don’t fall in love with me,” is the first thing you whisper to denki kaminari, hushed under the sheets in mina’s room. you're surprised he can hear you over the quiet murmurings of a ghibli movie playing on the tv; you're surprised he's awake.

“okay,” and it’s the first promise he’s ever broken, voice all low and hoarse from the after-effects of prolonged silence. 

(maybe he should've feigned sleep, he later thinks, as his heart stupidly falls and crashes clumsily into love. maybe he shouldn't have said anything at all.)

he turns onto his back, staring at the ceiling. it's dotted with glow-in-the-dark stars mina and sero had impulsively hung up one friday evening instead of studying. there's a couple moons, too, which bakugou had frowned upon, stating, "where are we, jupiter? there's only one moon orbiting earth." kirishima laughed. 

from the sound of shuffling sheets and a quick glance next to him, denki can tell you're now laying on your back, too. he almost makes a comment about you copying him. he stares at the faux stars overhead, not tired enough to close his eyes and allow sleep it's victory for the night. there's not much to do while awake at the moment other than strain his ear to decipher to the tv's audio. his throat feels dry, but he's not motivated enough to sit up to grab a water bottle. anyway, he supposes you and he are staring at the same sky, in a cheesy way. he remembers reading something like that in a book.

he kills the time and his aching mind by finding stupid constellations in the stick-on stars. there's a slightly distorted dipper of some sort, and a heart. there's a lot of squares. there's a shape he passes off as orion, but he knows anyone a tad more into astronomy than him would gasp at the abstract shape and completely dismiss its resemblance to orion. 

eventually, your breathing slows to a rhythmic pace beside him. the logical part of his mind tells him to sleep now that you, too, are sleeping. he doesn't know why he waited for you to be asleep first. one pentagon constellation later, kaminari allows sleep's gaze to wash over and envelope him. the ghibli movie is still playing.

it seems that his friends have beat him, somehow, to the conclusion that denki kaminari has a bit of a crush on you. it's childish, really. he shouldn't like you, recalling your first words to him. they struck you apart from other people he'd met. back then, though, he never seriously thought about you like that. sure, you were conventionally attractive (enough for him to approach you to give you his number), but it was all in good fun. that's what you were, too, for the longest time: good fun and a friend.

until one day, glances lingered for too long while you weren't looking. one day, kaminari's jokes became more and more aimed for you, to hear your laughter in his ears. one day, kaminari realizes he has your usual coffee and bubble tea order memorized, when he can barely remember his own.

he pretends all of it is completely normal, but mina assures him differently. as does bakugou, which is strange, because he's usually not wrapped up in other people's affairs (when voicing this to the blond, he responded, "it's hard not to notice because you're too damn obvious"). it's kind of hard to ignore when bakugou calls it obvious (he's literally had kirishima pining over him since day one with no notice).

kaminari really does try to ignore the bubbling feeling rising at the bottom of his heart. he really does, but you keep on shaking and shaking his poor heart until it's all fizzy like a bottle of soda. he's weak, okay? one day, he’ll explode.

his friends are all urging him to confess to you already, but he cannot work up the nerve to do so. instead, kaminari drops you obvious hints that he likes you. he doesn't know whether you're completely oblivious to them or if you're deliberately ignoring them.

he's been so painfully obvious, he swears.

he's practically able to write a list of hints he's dropped. he's fairly confident he could publish it as an advice book with the title "how to tell your crush you like them without saying 'i like you.'" by this point, he's the king of obvious subtlety. 

the list would go something like this, in no particular order:

pick-up lines

"did it hurt, when you fell-" you were silent, "-from the vending machine? because you're a snack." 

silence. absolute radio silence. he was extremely tempted to run away from the sheer awkwardness between the two of you. as he turned to leave and freak out in private, he heard you mumble a belated "thanks," which made everything worth it.

he still left to freak out, though (and plan his next pick-up line to tell you).

manga references

"hey, y/n," kaminari had said one day, after a particular burst of confidence. you hadn't looked up from your book.

"if i were shinichi from detective conan, you'd be ran," he'd said, referencing the main love interests from the manga. "or maybe vice versa. you are the smart one in this relationship..."

you didn't bat an eye. "they never get together, though? shinichi and ran."

"they- they don't?!" he'd sputtered indignantly. he definitely needed to read up his detective conan lore. "but they both like each other?"

"true," you'd replied in typical you fashion, neither letting on whether you did like him or not. well, hey, kaminari had thought. you didn't deny it. progress.

hand size comparison (which was, in reality, just an excuse to kind of hold your hand)

kaminari had smoothly been planning this for weeks (which, according to sero, was a little sad). he'd bring up the topic of hands one day in your daily conversations, then nonchalantly slip a "oh, y/n, let's do a hand size comparison!" he high-fived himself mentally upon the formulation of this genius plan - you'd definitely fall for him (or at least, realize his feelings for you - this state of teetering between do they like me or do they not like me frustrated him for months on end). the perfect opportunity presented itself one day as the two of you lounged in mina’s room (which, at this point, had become you and your friends’ hangout spot) studying. 

“wow, you type fast,” kaminari remarked as he pretended to innocently look up from the “work” (changing his laptop wallpaper for the tenth time that day) he was doing. you were focused on your work, sitting on mina’s bed with your laptop propped up by a pillow on your lap. you’d barely registered his words, judging by the way your eyebrows scrunched and how you looked up at him after a slow beat. 

“oh, uh, thanks,” you replied. “i’m just copying some text down. i don’t usually type this fas…” you trailed off, eyes widening as you watched kaminari scooching next to you on the bed. he put his hand next to yours, whose fingers still ghosted the keys of your keyboard.

“look,” he said softly, bringing your hands up to eye level. “hand size comparison.” it was breathed out belatedly, but your crystalline eyes didn’t leave his. he started to curve his fingers in between yours, holding your hand so tenderly. he really, really didn’t want to let go. “we fit.” it was a whisper he wasn’t sure you could hear - did he want you to hear it? “like… a puzzle,” he added awkwardly.

you nodded, dazed, slowly bending your fingers over his. he rocked your clasped hands side to side, a fond feeling creeping through his limbs. it was warm and tingly - and maybe it was contagious. could you feel it too, buzzing past his fingertips to you?

precisely three minutes passed before kaminari’s arm started to ache. he didn’t catch your disappointed expression when he let go of your hand, but he did catch the smile that emerged when he held your hand as the sides of your fingers nudged the bed. you didn’t get much work done after that, sitting in silence with him. 

brushing your hand in a popcorn bucket

movie nights on fridays were commonplace at mina’s. the plan, this time, was created by kirishima, who said that it was manly with just the right amount of romantic. kaminari hoped so. the movie settled on was some romance flick, as decided by mina, kirishima, and sero’s pleading with a very begrudging bakugou.

he can’t remember much of the movie. what he can remember, however, is the very close presence of you next to him as the two of you shared a popcorn bucket (courtesy of sero’s very romantic ideas). your hands brushed a (purposeful, on kaminari’s end) dozen times throughout the film. the last couple were accidents. on the first time, though, kaminari watched with satisfaction from his peripheral view as you looked from him to the popcorn that obscured the place where your hands made contact. he was very satisfied by the time the movie ended. 

truth or drink (which just ended up with you and he both getting very, very drunk)

you didn’t particularly enjoy the taste of sake, but that night was an exception. according to your drunken explanation, you had a very rough day. your exam, first and foremost, did not go particularly well (“who cares about freud!?” you blurted. “i dooooon’t!”). kaminari didn’t have the heart to ask who this freud was. then, one of your close friends confessed to you (which almost made kaminari’s heart stop, when you first recounted it to him), and you had to turn them down. you adamantly refused any sort of relationship, you told kaminari. (“nuh uh,” you shook your head. “they’re not good.”) it was surprising to him that you opened up that night. your first couple drinks left you quieter than usual - which was scary, because kaminari was practically having a conversation with himself then. a couple more drinks loosened your tongue, though. 

“there’s someone i like.” you jabbed a finger at him. “but i’m not supposed to saaaay… and it’s scaaary,” you slurred.

“ohh?” kaminari asked, more focused on the burn in the back of his throat. “whooo is it?”

you looked at your arm outstretched to him, and the pieces fell into place slower than they should’ve. he first looked around, just in case he was covering the person you were really pointing to (of course, you and him were the only ones there).

“this guy?" he asked, flabbergasted and pointing to himself. "him?!"

you nodded solemnly. "but i don't like dating," you said stubbornly. "love is dead!" you announced, flopping on the carpet. 

kaminari watched the heaving of your breaths as you lay on the ground, and strained his ears to hear your soft, soberish murmuring.

"i really like you, denki kaminari."

a dopish grin formed itself on his face. "i really like you too, y/n." 

kaminari then promptly blacked out, but not before hearing you running to the bathroom to throw up.

as of now, he can’t recall anything he or you said that night. on the contrary, he can vividly remember the ringing in his head and the sickly feeling that overtook him the next morning.

"you two are so frustrating!" mina declares over her sweetened iced tea. she points at kaminari, then to you standing with sero in the distance. you’re animatedly talking about some painting (���it’s renoir!” you mooned when you first saw it) while he and the rest of the group sit on a nearby bench. 

kaminari puts his hands up. “don’t look at me - i tried my best!”

“yeah, sure,” mina dismisses. “and i’m the queen of england.”

“i mean, they already told me not to like them!” kaminari counters. “what am i supposed to do about that?”

“shoot your shot!” mina urges. “c’mon, what’s the worst that could happen? …wait, don’t answer that.”

“yeah, kaminari, bro,” kirishima puts his elbow on kaminari’s shoulder. “flirt a little bit more.”

“that’s all you two seem to do,” bakugou grumbles from the other side of kirishima.

“you just need a little push,” mina says. kaminari isn’t sure he likes mina’s definition of push.

“i think i’m g-”

“hey, sero, come here!” mina calls to sero in the distance, earning her a couple dirty glances from others in the gallery. “kaminari wants to look at the painting with y/n.”

oh, god, kaminari groans internally. sero, already walking toward the bench, flashes a knowing grin toward him. 

“go get ‘em, champ.” sero pats kaminari on the back as the blond stands up, emitting a low, audible groan. 

the four on the bench watch as your eyes light up at the approaching kaminari, who’s sheepishly scratching his neck. he says something - then you start again, rambling something about “impressionism” then “salon.” mina watches with clasped, anticipating hands; kirishima’s hand accidentally brushes bakugou’s, who’s holding a juice box and watching the two of you; sero simply smiles with knowledge that the others are unaware of.

“well, what do you think?” you finally ask kaminari, gesturing to the painting. 

“uhh,” kaminari says. he was too busy staring at your face - the twinkle in your eyes, the curve of your lips - to pay attention to any of what you’d said. something about impressing and fleeting moments. he looks at the person depicted in the composition, then back to you. he remembers kirishima’s words - flirt a little bit more. it couldn’t hurt, could it?

“i think it’s pretty,” he leans into you, murmuring so he can be sure no one but you and he hears his words, “but it’s definitely not as pretty as you.”

you look down at yourself; then, for whatever reason, to sero. kaminari looks at sero, too, who’s wearing this stupid smile that sets unease in kaminari’s chest. he gives you two big thumbs-up. he’s so confused by sero’s behavior that he barely registers the light sensation of something on his cheek - a kiss. he looks at you, who’s looking away, then to the bench, where his friends are cheering despite the disapproving looks from those around them. he touches his cheek out of disbelief. light swells in his chest - it’s warm, so warm - but your aloof voice brings him back to reality (which really, isn’t much different from a dream).

“kaminari, you’re very red right now.”

“the two of you,” mina exclaims with the two of her hands clasped together in excitement over skype, “should go to a manga cafe!”

kaminari blinks. “as a date?”

“i wasn’t thinking about it like that.” mina nudges him, a sly smile creeping across her lips. “but hey, that works too. i mean, they did kiss y-”

kaminari cuts the pink-haired girl off before she can finish. “is that something… they’d want to do?”

“mmm…. probably,” mina says. “they were reading manga when you first met them right?”

he can vividly remember the somewhat tattered volume of conan, the detective turned little boy who must solve crime while hiding his own identity. really, the wear was only on the soft cover, nudged and peeling on the corners with faded text splayed on the spine. the pages were in crisp condition, he’d noted one day as he (totally, completely discreetly) watched you read the copy again. the bookshelf in your dorm and the stack of books on your desk is littered with different mangas, ranging from the old classics (astroboy) to some newer works (your lie in april). he only remembers this fact because he really, really wants to borrow a copy of black butler (yes, it’s the one with the maid on it. she looks really hot with a gun, okay?). all your manga are well-taken care of, cared for diligently as if each book has a piece of your heart in it. besides, you rarely lend out any (sero once asked to borrow jujutsu kaisen and you very, very reluctantly handed it to him), so he doubts you’d trust him with it.

“hang on, lemme ask sero if they’d be interested in a manga cafe,” mina says, pulling out her phone. “they’ve been close lately,” she mumbles as she types out a quick text to him, a quiet ping letting kaminari know that she’s sent it.

after a pause, mina excitedly reads sero’s reply: “yeah, probably.”

well, that was a definitive answer. 

“there’s one nearby here,” mina offers. “hagakure told me good things about it, and she has a knack for finding the best spots in town. i’ll send you the address.”

“you think they’d like it?” kaminari says in an atypical bout of self-consciousness.

“of course,” mina replies instantly. “don’t you see how they look at you?”

usagi manga kissa makes kaminari cringe. it’s not the bunny-themed logo on the top of the building, nor is it the wide assortment of manga lining the walls, nor is it the cozy, soft seats nuzzled in the nooks and crannies of the café. it’s not even the life-sized cardboard cut-outs of various anime maid girls (he actually particularly really likes that detail). it’s the name itself. usagi is fine - kaminari likes bunnies as much as the next guy. manga is fine, too - he wouldn’t be here if not for the manga. the kissa makes him cringe for the most immature of reasons, like a five year old just learning basic english vocabulary. kissa innocently shortens the word kissaten, for cafeteria, but suspiciously sounds like the english word kiss. he does not want to think about kissing as he walks into the café with you, and especially not when the lady at the counter asks if you want a couples’ discount (you say yes, solely because it’s cheaper). 

he does not want to think about kissing as he walks next to you, browsing the manga selection and passing the shoujo section that boasts illustrations of happy couples and romantic imagery. he doesn’t want to think about kissing as the two of you walk to a “couple’s” room, you rambling about the plot of the manga you chose and him with some shounen volleyball manga in his hand. kissing is the worst thing to think about as your knee touches his in the cramped apparent two-person room. he is not thinking about kissing at all when you offer him your water bottle, half full, and he’s definitely not thinking about indirect kissing or anything when he takes a sip. that would be crazy. 

fortunate for him, his manga is full of not-kissing, so he’s able to somewhat enjoy it without his mind bombarding him with the fact that your face is less than a metre away. as he finishes up the volume, he realizes how much of a middle school student he feels like. 

“y/n,” he looks up to you and says. you’re watching an old episode of neon genesis evangelion on the computer provided in the room, the manga you were reading sitting on the table beside the keyboard. 

“yeah?” you respond and pause the anime. out of his peripherals, he can see you turn to look at him. he stares at the wall ahead of him, lacking the confidence to face you head-on. 

“remember when we first met?” he reminisces. 

“the cafe?” you say. “yeah.”

“if… i can ask,” he musters, “why did you say what you did then?”

you pause, taken aback. “i… i don’t know.”

“because,” kaminari starts, and you flinch, “i like you. a-and i know you said not to-”

a ghost has crossed your face. your mouth is agape, as if you suspected his feelings but never thought he’d verbalize them. he wonders what the kiss was about. 

“i’m,” you gulp, breath stuttering, “i’m sorry.”

kaminari lied. five days later of zero contact with you, he realizes he’s in deep. he doesn’t like you - he’s in love with you. they say distance makes the heart grow fonder, and here he is, sifting through memories he had with you like they’re books. he should probably be studying instead of lying spread eagle on his bed, thinking of you. he can recall a promise made one night and the moment it was broken; he can remember the plastic stars he studied that night, falsely shining and lighting hope within him. he can remember dozens of constellations, half of which were geometric shapes, that he fell asleep to with you at his side. his heart aches, alighting a dull burn within him like a protostar barely able to burn hydrogen. 

there’s a polite knock at his door, so he assumes it to be either kirishima or sero. mina always enters unannounced and bakugou is far too brash to knock softly. slowly - almost reluctantly - he sits up in bed, standing up and making his way to the door. he catches a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror, telling him that his hair is an absolute mess and in no way presentable. he figures that either kirishima or sero will comment about it, but he never needed to impress them in the first place. turning the knob and opening the door, he’s expecting either of his friends, maybe here to nag him or ask him to come and study or say “hey, why haven’t you spammed the group chat with memes in a while? i missed them.”

he definitely isn’t expecting you, face pulled into a worried expression and lips held in a thin, anticipating line before you meet his eyes. you’re pouring out a waterfall of apologies at a thousand words per second as soon as he opens the door, letting yourself in and hardly taking notice of his bird’s nest hair. he guides you to the couch, attempting to interject and ask you to slow down, but he finds that it sounds rude at any given moment. you’re sitting on the couch, lamentations and explanations spilling from your lips as you grip the plush material of the cushion you sit on, when you finally pause to take a breath. kaminari uses this opportunity to interrupt you.

“woah, woah, woah.” he hesitantly puts a hand on your shoulder. “can you back up?”

“oh, yeah,” you start to move back in your seat and kaminari stifles a laugh.

“no, can you start your story from the beginning?” he asks. “take your time, i’m not going anywhere.”

“i’m really, really sorry about what happened the other day,” you apologize, then look at him finally and ogle his hair. “i got… scared,” you admit earnestly. before he can make any question of it, you continue, “i like you too, see. and i never really, seriously acted on it - i didn’t want to. so when you did the inevitable and confessed… it scared me. the truth is… i’m not the best at romance or relationships. i don’t want to put anyone through that, again.” your voice wavers but finishes strong as you look kaminari in the eyes.

“that?” he asks. he’s afraid he’s crossed a line, but you reply all the same.

“i was in a relationship, once. i wasn’t… i wasn’t good enough. i didn’t do the things that people in a relationship are supposed to do, i guess.” you fiddle with the fabric of the couch, looking down at your fingers. your voice gives away the vulnerability of the topic, wrapped in a stiff disconnection; you’ve distanced yourself from it, probably once too familiar with the feelings you speak of.

“it’s okay,” kaminari says, almost too quickly. he slows himself down. “that’s… completely fine,” he admits truthfully. “we can go slow. i… i can wait.”

“can you?” you look up at him, hope shining your eyes. it dims quickly before you say, “you don’t have to. i don’t want to limit you…”

“the only person i want is you,” he reassures you, hesitantly taking your hand in his. “you’re not…” he struggles for words, “...limiting me if i don’t have eyes for anyone else.”

“are you sure?” it’s an almost inaudible whisper, clutching your hopes in three words that are held together by thin threads. 

“i’ve never been more sure,” kaminari replies confidently, giving your hand an encouraging squeeze.

“okay,” you breathe out, relief tingeing your speech. “i… want to be with you.”

it takes everything in kaminari not to kiss you right there. 

“oh, by the way-” you say, standing up from the couch and leaving kaminari to sit alone, “did you still want to borrow that copy of black butler?”

“the one with the maid who has a gun?” kaminari asks, eyes wide. how did you know about that?

“yeah. you kept staring at it before, so i assumed…”

“yeah. yeah, no, yeah, that’d be really great. amazing, actually. wonderful. stupendous-” kaminari shuts himself up before he can ramble on longer. 

“okay, give me a second,” you respond, smiling, and exit to the hallway to retrieve the manga. 

you return with the volume in hand, placing it in kaminari’s hands. 

“thanks,” he says as he glides his thumb over the glossy cover and mint condition. it’s heavier than kaminari thought, and it feels like the weight of a heart. he’ll be sure to take extra care of it, holding it with ginger fingers and a sweet, sweet feeling in his chest.

[ka-za-ri]

Descent Pt. 1

I told myself I was gonna take a break. I lied. I wanted to write a whole bin of Sin for Simeon. I’m sorry, not sorry at all. Let me know if you want to be a part of the tag list: Chapter Masterlist: Here Crossposted on Ao3: here Part [1] Part [2] Part [3] Part 4: [4] Part [5] Part [6] Part [7] Part [8] Part [9] Part [10]

Paring: Simeon x Reader Wordcount: 4,900 ish Genre: Smut Tags: Masturbation, Voyeurism, hints of dirty talk? Summary: Sent from the Celestial realm to observe and study humans; Simeon made a name for himself as the illustrious author of The Tales of the Seven Lords. After reaching acclaim for his first series, he's having trouble writing his next great hit. Good thing you're there for him as his manager and editor to help him work out the... kinks in writing.

Trip

The most dangerous aspect of humans was their innate ability to tempt even the most stalwart and steadfast of angels into a world of sin. Simeon was not immune to their ways, no matter how reclusive he became. It was easy to study them from afar, learning about them through numbers and sales numbers. The masses were easy to sway with a few pretty words. Blending in with humans was a trivial task for him. All he had to do was make a few public appearances for book signings and some launch parties for a new series; otherwise he was free to observe and study from afar. 

After the international success of The Tale of The Seven Lords, Simeon found himself feeling rather empty. He needed a new project to keep him entertained in the human realm. However, no matter what he started to work on, it didn’t inspire the same sort of passion he had for his older series. He needed a new genre, a new style of writing to refresh his passion for words. If he was going to make it in an ever changing market, he would need to adapt as well. Yet, no matter what genre he tried, every draft he came up with seemed too mundane and overdone. 

Everything except, for the temptation of writing something much more salacious than his last work. 

Just entertaining the thought had him on a slippery slope of falling from the grace of the Celestial realm. Sure, the strict protocols of olde had been loosened over the centuries. Many angels realized that enforcing perfect adherence to the standards of purity set so long ago no longer applied to modern times. Rules had been loosened and enforcement had relaxed to the point where Simeon was almost positive if he wrote an absolutely obscene novel, he didn’t risk losing his Celestial powers. 

The only problem was that he had no experience in the genre at all. He threw together a vague plot and outline, thinking it would be all he needed to inspire him. Surprisingly enough, the publishing house allowed for the drastic change in genre, confident that he would be able to create another best seller. Just having that much trust put in him made him want to succeed even more with the haphazard novel idea. 

But, despite his determination to make his new manuscripts lewd, he was at a complete loss as to what, and how to write them properly. The outline he presented to you seemed excellent on paper. Even if it had a few plot holes, you knew he could patch them up with a little work. So, it was natural that you would push the approval and leave him to his own devices to work on the manuscript. You were sure that an author of his caliber would be able to break into a new branch of the literary market without any issues. 

But, after several months of waiting, you had no contact at all from him regarding the progress of his new book. The industry needed proof of his work in order to justify their investment in him. Being so renowned, the pressure was on him to create something magnificent. You could only imagine the kind of stress he was going through and as his manager and editor, you were responsible for making sure he met deadlines. You hated to rush his process, but there was no way he could meet the dates set by the publisher if he didn’t give you something to work with soon. 

After trying to reach out to him several times by phone and email with little to no response, the only option left was to go to his abode and see just what he was hiding from. No other outline he submitted had passed so this was his one and only chance to continue his writing career. You patiently waited after knocking on his door, hoping he would answer and wasn’t going to ignore you any further. You knew how serious writer’s block could be; but you hoped he wouldn’t let that get in the way of being a professional. 

Luckily, the door opened soon enough and you were ushered in by an extremely tired and frazzled looking Simeon. He lead you to his office after you had taken off your shoes and changed into the guest slippers he offered. Simeon didn’t speak to you during the whole exchange, a shell of the soft spoken and attentive author you had come to know after so many years of working with him. He shuffled into his office, an obvious slouch in his posture and slumped behind his desk before gesturing at the empty chair across from him. 

“I’m guessing you know why I’m here.” You said and he sighed in resignation, burrowing his head in his hands and running them through his hair. You felt terrible adding stress onto him, he looked ragged, like he hadn’t slept in days. The bags under his eyes were so dark, they almost looked like deep bruises. 

“Yes… You want a manuscript…” his normally soft voice sounded hoarse and you wondered if he had eaten or drunken anything at all that day. “I’m almost done with the first draft… would you like to come and see?” He turned his laptop towards you and you started reading what he had so far. 

All seemed well and good at first. The characters were believable and the premise, though a bit cheesy, was definitely acceptable for the genre. The further you read, the more you noticed large gaps in his writing. Whole paragraphs seemed to be missing and sentences ended midway. Dialog was left unfinished and by the time you reached the end of the first chapter, it was a mess. You could already feel the inevitable headache you were going to get from editing for him. 

“Uhm…”

“Yeah, I know. It’s not my best work.” 

He tried to smile, but the emotion didn’t reach his eyes. You reached out to him and held his hand, rubbing your thumb in reassuring circles on his palm. “You’ve worked hard on it, still. What’s got you so hung up though?” 

He got a little flustered at your question, nervously running his hand through his hair and looking to the side. Writing such a topic with no experience in it was proving to be difficult for him. He could research all he wanted and consume all the media he could to aid him, but there was just something missing. His lack of knowledge was showing and he wasn’t sure how he could keep being composed about his failure so far. He gestured at the screen and shrugged, trying to get his message across without using words; but, when he saw your confused expression, he had to speak. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” he finally admitted. “I want to write this so badly, but I don’t know how to… describe the scenes the way I want to.” 

You sat back in the chair, crossing your arms over your chest and nodding. You could only imagine the difficulty he was having in producing the quality content you were sure he was used to coming up with. With deadlines looming above your head, you needed at least a chapter to submit to the publishing house so they knew actual work was being done. You sighed, trying to think of ways to jump start his creativity. The gloomy atmosphere of his office didn’t seem help. The lights were dim and the curtains were all drawn. It didn’t feel like a place that could invoke the imagery he was going for. “Let’s move somewhere.” you suggested finally. “Do you have a room with lots of sunlight? Maybe a change of mood will help.” 

“Ah… there’s the sunroom..” he said. “But I don’t know if just changing where I am writing will help the situation. If it hasn’t gotten done here, I doubt it will anywhere else.” 

“Just try it.” you encouraged, already unplugging his laptop and taking it with you. “It’s so gloomy in here, even I’m getting depressed just sitting around. Come on, which way is it?” 

“Ah… this way.” He said, shamefully shuffling out from behind his desk and showing you the way to the sunroom which overlooked a rather well manicured garden with a variety of flowers in full bloom. You marveled at the bright, airy feel of the room and took a second to really appreciate his choice in decor. 

“Wow, would have never pegged you as the kind of guy who gardens.” You teased, flopping onto the couch he had in there and lounged in its plush confines. Looking through the glass ceiling, you watched a few clouds drift by while Simeon got comfortable in a recliner in the corner of the room. You could tell he was still a bit frustrated, but you knew getting him some sun would do him good. 

“Well, when I don’t have any pressing deadlines, being with the plants helps relieve stress. It’s unfortunate that I cannot give you a tour this time.” 

“There’s plenty of opportunities in the future. They’re not going anywhere, and neither am I. You know I’m going to keep hounding you until your manuscript is finished.” 

He chuckled, nodding and opening up his laptop. You let silence pass between the two of you, going back to watching the clouds while the sound of his fingers flying across the keyboard lulled you into a daydream like state. You grabbed onto one of the large, decorative pillows he had on the couch, clutching it against your chest while you made up stories in your head about the clouds above. If you weren’t so stressed about turning something into the publishing house so soon; it would have been a perfect, calming afternoon. 

The clack of the keyboard stopped after a little bit. Whatever inspiration Simeon had when he entered the room seemed to have fizzled out and he was stuck in yet another rut, writing one word and deleting it over and over again. You sighed, turning to watch him as he gnawed on his thumb, mumbling to himself. 

“What’s not working?” You asked, your curiosity piqued. 

“Just… this scene… it’s not working. I can’t envision it.” He grumbled. Looking up at where you were laying on his couch, clutching onto the pillow, he was suddenly struck by a brilliant plan. The worry lines on his forehead disappeared and he broke out into a slight smile when he realized how he could get his creative juices flowing. “Help me… I need inspiration.” 

You sat up straight, ready to assist in any way you could. “Okay, what do you want me to do?” You asked. 

Simeon squinted, in the right light, you looked similar to the main character he had written. His plan could work if you reenacted the scene he had in mind. The issue was actually explaining the scene to you in a way that didn’t make his body feel overheated. He was already playing with fire by writing such a lewd book, pushing his limits further felt like he was sliding right down a slope heading towards a great fall. There was no other way, he reasoned. As long as I do not defile her, it’ll be fine. Taking a deep breath, he got up from where he was and walked over to you. 

“I need you to…. Uhm… Well.. how do I say this… I’m having trouble writing a love making scene and I need some… visual aids.” You blinked, processing his request and then looked him up and down, feeling your whole body heat up at once. You were sure you had kept your crush on him a secret. To have him ask you so suddenly to provide visual aid for an explicit novel felt like too big of a jump for you to comprehend. “Oh… Oh no, no, no. You don’t have to do anything with me.” He said, gesturing wildly when he saw you pointedly stare at his crotch. “You can just pretend that this is the ‘lover.’” He took the pillow from your arms and laid it on the couch. 

You didn’t know if you should have felt relived or disappointed that he wanted you to reenact a sex scene with a pillow and not him. It was all quite a bit to take in, but the desperate pout on his face was something you couldn’t ignore. And both your jobs were on the line. You sighed in resignation. “Okay, okay… But only because we have deadlines coming up.” You said. “You’re lucky you’re cute. I wouldn’t do this for anyone else.” 

Simeon smiled for the first time that day, hurriedly moving back to his computer and preparing to take notes on what you were doing. “I’m ready when you are.” he announced once he opened up a separate document. 

“You sure you don’t want me to just, you know… do you?” You asked, cocking an eyebrow as you started to undress. It was embarrassing for sure; but part of you relished in seeing Simeon so flustered when it came to the nature of lewd things. You wondered why he had bothered submitting such an outline at all when he wasn’t familiar with how to write erotica; but his determination to branch out to other genres had won you over in the end. It just fell upon your shoulders to show this man how it was done. 

“I… No… I can’t. I need to write.” He stuttered. Do not defile her, do not defile her. Her womb is sacred and not something you can toy with… Even if he wanted the first hand experience, he still had rules to abide by. 

“Alright, whatever you say. You’re the boss.” You shrugged, unbuttoning your blouse. “Don’t forget, part of the sexiness is in the tease.” You explained, taking your time to sway your hips side to side as each button came undone. Trying to seduce a pillow was so much more boring than trying to seduce Simeon. The things I do for this job… 

You made sure to waggle your ass as you peeled off your pants, tossing them to the side along with your blouse. There was something thrilling about being in a room made of glass. Any woodland creature that decided to come visit his garden at that moment would also get an eyeful of your progressively bare body. The rush of having Simeon watch you as you stripped had your heart racing. 

At the very least, you knew your efforts weren’t in vain. You could hear the furious clacking of the keyboard as you gave the pillow in front of you a sultry look. As lame as it all was, it was still rather arousing to know you were being watched by the man who you had crushed on for so long now. “Alright… sir. I’m going to need you to lay down. You have a problem that only I can take care of.” You said to the pillow. You tried hard not to laugh at how ridiculous the scenario was. It wouldn’t do to break the mood, especially when you could tell Simeon was definitely getting some writing done. 

You got back onto the couch, straddling the pillow between your legs once you were in nothing but your underthings. Licking your lips, you pretended that Simeon was under you and not the decorative cushion. If you closed your eyes, you could almost feel his lean body under your own, squirming in discomfort as you took control of the scenario. There was just something about how gentle and soft spoken he was that made  your heart flutter with the need to dominate him until he was a flushed, moaning mess. 

Using that fantasy in your mind, you slowly started to gyrate your hips onto the pillow, throwing your head back and moaning. “Oh yes…” You breathed, pleasantly surprised at the stimulation you got from the friction of your panties rubbing against your spread core. You hummed, content with the thought of Simeon holding onto your hips to keep your steady. If he wanted to watch, then you were going to give him the best show available. 

You grasped at your breasts, teasing your nipples through the fabric of your bra until they were sensitive little buds that made you gasp. As you continued to grind against the pillow, you could feel your essence starting to flow, no doubt you were going to leave quite a substantial wet mark on the pillow if you continued. You wanted to pause and warn Simeon of what was about to happen; but when you turned and saw the look of concentration on his face, you didn’t dare break his focus. 

He’ll just have to deal with it later… You figured going back to that happy place in your mind where the writer in front of you was actually under you. Closing your eyes, you imagined what it would be like to hear him moan as you pressed your heat against his cock. Surely he must sound absolutely angelic when he cums. Pushing slipping your hands under your bra, you pushed the fabric away, peeled it off your skin and threw it into a random corner to pick up later. “You have no idea how hot you look right now.” You purred, looking down at the cushions below you, wishing you had something sexier to talk dirty to; but you would have to make do with what you had. 

Leaning down, you grabbed a pillow to act as your ‘lovers’ head and started to kiss it. It was so hard to ignore just how disappointing it was to make out with a lump of fabric and not the beautiful man in the corner who was so engrossed with his writing, you might as well have been invisible to him. You could only use your imagination to fantasize about how soft Simeon’s lips must be. He always took such good care of his skin and he had an ethereal glow about him, as if he was blessed by the sun itself. You moaned into the pillow, hating the rough canvas you were pressed up against, but at least your pussy was getting something out of how much you were humping the pillow. 

You came up, gasping for air after having half smothered yourself with a pillow and glanced over at Simeon again. Even as he was furiously typing, you could see that he was at least a little affected by the show you were putting on. Good, I would have hated myself if he’s not even a smidgen turned on by this. You smirked, looking down at your ‘lover’ and pretended to whisper sweet nothings to them before getting off the couch. 

Simeon made a small sound of protest when he saw that you were no longer straddling the pillow, but he quickly shut up when he saw that you were divesting yourself of your panties. “Oh… carry on.” He mumbled, going back to his document, though his eyes continuously flicked up towards you to make sure he was capturing the moment properly. 

Feeling your bare pussy rub against the rough fabric of the pillow sent shivers of pleasure up and down your body and you moaned, riding it harder than before. The stimulation was great, but it wasn’t enough. Really, you wanted to have Simeon buried balls deep in you and not at his computer. However, your priority was your job and that meant sticking to what you had to work with. “Fuck…” You groaned, clenching your inner walls around nothing and wishing that you had at least a toy to fill you up and give you something to ride. 

You ground against the pillow, your essence soaking the fabric and leaving a sizable wet mark, but you didn’t care. It was all the stimulation you could get and you were going to work it for all it was worth. One hand went back up to your breast, rolling your pert nipple between your thumb and forefinger, whining at the mixture of pain and pleasure you were giving yourself. “Yeah… you like watching me touch myself, babe?” You asked no one in particular; but truthfully, you hoped Simeon was really enjoying what he saw and heard.. 

His fingers on the keyboard never ceased moving as he vividly described the scene before him. He was so wrapped up in his work, he didn’t even notice himself getting hard. There was too much to write and no time to think about the attention the rest of his body was asking for. He licked his lips, his gaze constantly going back and forth from the document to your body. You were acting out the scene so well, he couldn’t stop writing; he needed to record every detail. You were everything he had imagined his main character to be; effortlessly confident, commanding in the bedroom and dripping with sex appeal. Even if it was a spur of the moment suggestion, he had no regrets considering he was getting so much more writing done in the last half hour than he had in the past two months. 

Your breathing came out in short little pants as you tried to chase a release that just wouldn’t come with so little to work with. You reached between your legs to fondle your sensitive clit, groaning loudly as you made love to yourself. You didn’t know how long the scene was supposed to be, but your thighs were getting tired of riding an inanimate object and you just wanted to get off now. 

“Mm fuck.. You feel so good…” You breathed, closing your eyes and imagining Simeon sliding inside of you. The first pass must feel so good. You fantasized about lowering yourself onto his cock slowly letting him savor every inch that entered you. In your head, his bright blue eyes glittered in lust, watching his dick disappear into you until your hips met and he would moan at the feeling of being completely buried in you. “Yeah… just like that…” You moaned, rubbing circles at your clit while your inner walls clenched rhythmically at air. 

You went back to dragging your pussy across the fabric of the pillow smearing your essence all over to get as much out of the scenario as you could. Your fingers rubbed your clit harder, pushing you ever closer and closer to release. “Oh… Oh… I’m so close…” You whined, announcing your climax mere seconds before it happened. The last push you needed was looking over at Simeon and seeing him completely engrossed in what you were doing. His fingers frozen on the keyboard and his comfortable pants with a rather impressive tent in them. 

“Fuck. Simeon.” you cursed, cumming all over the pillow. Your fingers slowed their pace around your clit, rubbing your labia back and forth as you rode out the orgasm. You fell forward onto the pillows beneath you, still slowly humping them while you let the initial high pass and the afterglow set in. It wasn’t until the haze of pleasure passed that you realized you had called his name while getting off on his couch in front of him. 

Simeon swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way you called his name. Everything had gone smoothly until you had cried out for him while in the throes of your climax. He had stopped everything he was doing just mere moments before you did that; and now, he didn’t know if he had the mental capacity to continue with what he was writing. 

For once, he was tempted to throw away whatever celestial blessings he had to take you and be the real reason why you screamed his name. 

Shoving the indecent thoughts to the back of his head, he turned back to his document, writing a sentence and erasing it, repeating the action over and over again while his brain looped the beautiful image of you as you came on his couch. Now, he noticed the tightness in his pants, the obvious boner he sported as a result of such an experiment. But, he couldn’t be mad at it. He had achieved a groove in writing and he was sure he could finish the draft you needed in time.

Simeon let you rest a bit and gather yourself together on the couch. No doubt both of you were aware of the slip, but he could pretend it didn’t affect him as much as it did. Eventually, you had the courage to look back up at him, only to find him busily typing away at his computer. Sighing, and running your hand through your hair amused that he could stay so calm, you got up and started to get dressed. “So, I’m guessing moving somewhere else worked?” you asked, keeping your tone light. 

“Hmm… yes.” He agreed, half paying attention to what you were doing. He couldn’t bear to look at you while you were exposed and waited patiently until you were fully clothed until he made eye contact and spoke to you again. “I definitely got some good notes in. I’ll just need a little more time to flesh out some of the filler scenes and I’ll email you the draft in a couple of days.” 

You let out a laugh, surprised that he was able to focus on work still after what he had just witnessed. He truly was as innocent as he presented himself to be sometimes. “Alright, well. I’ll look forward to reading it.” 

“Will you be back?” he asked, looking at you with hopeful eyes. “You were so helpful, I think I might need more help for the rest of the book.” Not, like I want to see something like that again… No, I just need it for research purposes… 

“You know I’ll be back.” You laughed heartily, ruffling his hair. “I have to bother you at least once a month to make sure you’re on schedule to finish.” 

Simeon slouched into his chair and let out a soft laugh in relief. “Of course, how could I forget.” In his mind, he was already planning new scenarios for you to play out. There would be much more research to be done, and supplies to be obtained before your next visit. But, all those things could wait. For now, he closed his laptop, noticing how low on battery it had gotten.Time had slipped by him, the sun already well on its way past the horizon. “It’s getting late…” He commented, trying to change the subject to something a little safer than the masturbation session you just had in front of him. 

“Yeah… I’ll get going and let you work in peace.” In a moment of bold recklessness, you stepped forward and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “See you next time, babe. Can’t wait to see what you’re gonna make me do for you.” you teased, giving him a coy wink before showing yourself out.

As soon as the door was firmly shut, Simeon let out a deep sigh, laughing out loud at the predicament he had put himself into. He wanted to quit everything and dissolve into the ground. He wanted to continue writing and see your body writhe in pleasure. He wanted to also defile you and sate himself inside of you. Most of all though, there was a growing darkness within him, one he didn’t even notice just yet; and that part of him craved to see you put in your place to beg for him like the god he knew he was. 

Pushing all his desires down and curbing his lust for the time being, he moved his computer back to his office and let it charge for the rest of the evening. His mind still swirled with the image of your exposed body riding that pillow in the sunroom. The early evening sunset made your body glow with an almost angelic light; and for once, he felt jealous of an inanimate object.

Quietly padding back into the sunroom, he looked at the soiled cushion; feeling a surge of heat rush through him when he saw the wet spot you had left behind. Licking his lips, he approached it like it was a wild animal, tentatively poking at it. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend to still feel your warmth lingering on the fabric. He could feel shame rising up in him as he laid down on the couch, rested his head on the pillow and took a deep breath, memorizing the scent of your arousal. 

His hand reached down between his legs, slipping past his pants and to his hard length that needed his attention. Turning his head to smother his moans and to surround himself with your unique smell, he teased and pleased himself, putting himself in the scenario you had played out just mere moments ago. 

“Oh… oh fuck…” He groaned surprised at how little effort it took to make him cum and ruin his pants to the thought of you bouncing on his cock and calling his name. He was quickly falling down the deep end of temptation and he could feel the darkness of sin encroaching. 

The scariest part was the fact that he didn’t care at all. 

[cedric-stories]

The New Routine (Cedric the sorcerer x reader)

This is me, finally submitting my first piece of garbage..

It’s awful. I’m sorry. First fanfic so give me grace!

1,490 words or so

Reader pronouns: She/her

Cedric’s body was curled around yours. The two of you had just moved in together about a week ago. Just thinking about the experience gave you butterflies and a knot in your stomach. The way your commitment had grown in just a few days astounded you. You swore the way love was made had grown much deeper. Nothing had compared to the way things were now. But, as much as this was a beautiful thing, a routine needed to be placed. You looked at your phone and saw the time. It was 5am and you decided to get out of bed and start your day.

           You headed for the bathroom even though your body would’ve rather stayed in bed. Opening a drawer, you grabbed a toothbrush, hair-tie, and began the morning. You changed into black runner’s shorts and sports bra and made your way out of the house to the gym (locking the door as Cedric had requested you do many times before).

An hour and a half later, you made it back to the tower. Unlocking the door, you felt disgusting. Rushing to the shower, you discarded your bag and clothing into the washroom.

           You walked into the bathroom while untying your hair and started the shower. The warm water felt good to your skin as you stepped in. Starting with your hair, you began to slowly clean your sweat covered body and made sure you nicely exfoliated before leaving.

           After this slightly longer than a half hour shower (this was always the part you enjoyed the most), got out, found a towel, and headed over to your clothing that was sitting on a wooden chair in the bathroom.

           There were a few obvious perks to living with your significant other. First, this would be the endless amount of attention you got at home (like kisses to hugs from behind when you were working on a project). Even though this was nice, your favorite part was teasing him. So, you decided to put on your silk, pink crop top and shorts. They had a black trim, and the crop had a slight pushup effect. Swinging your hips as you walked out of the bathroom, you felt beautiful, but there was a rotten feeling creeping up into your mood.

While you had only moved in a week ago, you could surely tell something was different. The past few days had been filled with cakes, doughnuts, and creamers and this was not a normal occurrence. You needed to get back on track with you diet so you thought today would work just fine. Cedric did not necessary eat the most nutritious foods in the world so this may be a challenge for you to get him used to. You started by scrambling four eggs into a pan and added some peppers. Next, you put three pieces of whole grain toast into the toaster slots.

Cedric woke to the sounds of an iPhone alarm. Shifting and stretching, he turned to glance over at his sleeping girlfriend to only find a dent in the bed. Running a hand through his black hair he got up and shuffled his feet over the cold tile of the bathroom.

While getting ready for his day, Cedric started to wonder where you had gone. Every morning since you had moved in you’ve been there. One morning it was almost 1pm and the two of you had just gotten up. You had started moving around in bed and had woken him. Ah yes, what a morning that was, but now, things were different. You had talked of wanting to “get back on track” with your routine yesterday but Cedric presumed it would not be too different. While he missed seeing your lovely face this morning, he had to admit that being alone for a few minutes was quite enjoyable. The two of you had been together every second the past few days, and just being able to listen to the sound of his own robe crinkling as he put it on was a nice change.

After getting settled in his normal attire, he followed smells into the kitchen to find his girlfriend.

“Good morning, love!” you almost shouted when he came in the room. “Oh, my goodness, I missed you this morning!” you exclaimed, galloping towards the man. You were about a foot away from him when you noticed something was off. “Are you okay, love?”

Cedric tried to think of an answer but all he could do was stare. His cheeks started to turn red as his eyes looked at your pink, laced outfit.

You gave a small giggle and took a few more steps towards him.

“Now, is this really so terrible?” you asked, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I just wanted to look nice for you.” With that, you gave him a soft kiss.

Cedric put his arms around you as well. Running a hand through your messy hair, he began walking you towards the nearest wall; lips not parting.

Your back felt the hard coolness of a surface and you gave a small sign. You finally got him to give up your lips only to have him start kissing down your neck.

“L-love...” you began.

He nuzzled up to you and made a replying “Um-hm?” noise.

“D-don’t you think we should wait until breakfast is over?”

You felt a hand drop down your side and his lips released from their current place.

With one final passion filled kiss he replied.

“I suppose.”

Once the two of you had broken away, Cedric sat down.

“I noticed something unusual today.” He began. “I woke up and you weren’t there.”

You cocked your head at the man and smiled. “Well, I told you yesterday I was going to get back into my normal routine.”

“I know.” He paused. “I guess I just did not believe it would be so different.”

You walked over to him and began stroking his hair. “I’m sorry, but I do think it’s best we start our lives together with a plan, don’t you?”

“Yes, I guess I just missed you was all.” He blushed as the words fell from his mouth.

“I missed you too.” You replied, starting to feel an unwanted urge in your core.

Against your better judgement, you sat down on your boyfriend’s lap and put your hand up his sleeve. Without any encouragement, Cedric grabbed your face gently and kissed you.

Your hand began running through his hair wildly while he tried pulling you farther onto his lap. Flipping your leg around, you began straddling him. You pressed closer and suddenly you felt a hand fall underneath your behind. You gave a small moan, bucked your hips.

“You need to give me a warning before you do that.”

A familiar smirk appeared on Cedric’s face.

“And why should I do that?”

Again, without a warning, he squeezed you tightly. You automatically bucked against him.

He gave a groan. “Sweetheart, if you keep doing that this is not going to end here.”

“Well, then stop making me!” You giggled.

Cedric shook his head, “No, I don’t think I’ll do that.”

He kissed you again, but this time you could feel his hands move up along your stomach towards your chest.  Fingers started to circle your crop’s base and began slipping underneath. You jolted.

“Cedric, don’t you dare!” you blurted out.

He raised a brow at you. The two of you locked eyes, almost like you were daring him.

“Is that a challenge?”

“I don’t know, maybe you should try to find out.”

Suddenly, the toaster popped. Once again you were shot back into reality.

“I guess that’s our timeout.” You breathed.

 After getting up, you started making your plates.

“Since we are now living together, love, I thought it was a good idea to start planning our meals too. You see, normally I eat fairly healthy. Last week was not like that. So, see how you like it and maybe this can be our normal”

You could see a peculiar look on his face as you put the plate down.

“So, this would be our”, He hesitated, “normal?”

“Yes. Please just maybe try it?” You pleaded, trying to look as pitiful as possible.

He gave you a small eyebrow raise and nodded.

After you both finished, you took the plates to the dishwasher to clean. Moments later you felt familiar arms wrapping around your waist.

“I am not very accustomed to this type of breakfast, but I think I will start getting used to it; as long as I may finally have you?” Cedric said, peppering your neck with kisses.

Heat met your cheeks and your knees got weak as your body started melting into his.

“I think I could arrange that.”

[honey-dewey]

When the Queen Becomes the King

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x FtM Trans Reader

Word Count: 2,092

Warnings; Depression and gender dysphoria, mentions of cancer, Maxwell cries, but a very fluffy ending. 

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell

Trans reader having trouble with the whole identity shit and needs a change ASAP, so Max decides to give him the full Maxwell beauty treatment. Yes I am projecting again. 

Maxwell always told you he loved the night. It was dark and comforting, an ever present blanket that wrapped him up and helped him sleep. 

You were quite the opposite. The night was a horror show to you, filled with demons and silence. 

Rolling over in the bed you shared with your boyfriend, you sighed, gazing out the floor to ceiling windows, at the bustling DC midnight. If New York was the city that never slept, then DC was the city that ran on two hours of sleep and eight cups of coffee. The only time you could imagine it ever being quiet and dark was around 2 AM. 

2 AM, which was slowly approaching. Maxwell slept beside you, lightly snoring. It wasn’t him keeping you awake, oh no. It was your own head. Horrible thoughts and even worse confessions, until you no longer felt like yourself. 

Truthfully, you hadn’t ever really felt like yourself, but that wasn’t a concern until the lights went out. 

Sighing as you watched a helicopter in the distance, you tried to imagine a different life for yourself. You were still dating Maxwell, of course. He was a constant, no matter what you imagined. But instead of laying beside him in a soft nightgown, you were wearing sleep pants similar to his, with two sets of men’s clothes in the closet instead of his suits and your dresses. You were different in your imagination, all flat chest and strong arms, a better jaw and less softness to your face. Maxwell always complimented you when you stood displeased in front of the mirror, but his reassurance that you looked amazing only made you feel worse. 

Wiping away tears, you realized DC had gotten quieter as midnight came and went. The quiet filled you, making your thoughts loud. Too loud. 

Slipping out of bed, you walked as quietly as possible to the bathroom. For as much as he slept, Maxwell was a very light sleeper. You shut the bathroom door slowly and as soon as it was shut, you collapsed, feeling the cold tile press into your skin. It was a shock, but a welcome one. Through the thinness of your nightgown, you could feel each groove in the tile, rolling onto your back to stare up at the ceiling. In here, the air conditioning was louder, the gentle hum washing over your thoughts and taking them away, like the ocean reclaiming a seashell from the shore. 

The bathroom light flickered, meaning Maxwell had probably noticed you were missing from the bed and turned on the bedside lamp. 

Sitting up, you began to fabricate your lie, that you’d felt sick and wanted to make sure you didn’t throw up in the bed. Maxwell would believe that. He always did. 

Grabbing the bathroom counter to haul yourself to standing, your hand hit something. Staring down, you took in the innocent sight of Maxwell’s razor. 

Taking a breath, you moved your trembling hand. He had a habit of not putting stuff away when he was tired, and this was no exception. 

“Doll?” Maxwell’s late night rasp shocked you so much you jumped. “Are you okay?” 

You opened your mouth to respond, but no sound came out. The shuffling sound of Maxwell getting out of bed alerted you, but you couldn’t do anything about it. All you could do was shake. 

“Doll,” Maxwell said again, opening the door and squinting in the light. “What are you-“ he cut off at the image of you, terrified, filled his eyes. “Doll, is that my razor?” 

Tearing your gaze from him, you looked down at your hand, which did, in fact, have a death grip on the razor. 

Maxwell carefully wrapped his hand around yours, trying to ease your grip. “Doll. What’s wrong?” 

You still couldn’t speak, choking on your words as you collapsed into Maxwell’s chest, body heaving with sobs. 

“Oh doll,” Maxwell murmured, wrapping you in a hug and carrying you to the bed. “Doll, are you feeling ill?” 

You shook your head. 

“Is it something mental?” 

You nodded, and Maxwell immediately lay you on the duvet and cuddled you to his chest, you still in his lap. “It’s okay, doll. I’m here.” 

“It’s not okay,” you sobbed out, cold hands pressing to Maxwell’s bare sides. “Nothing is okay!” 

Maxwell stroked your hair. “It will be one day,” he promised. “One day, it will all be okay.” 

“Max,” you rasped, pulling away so you could meet his eyes. “Max, I’m sick.” 

It was the wrong thing to say. Maxwell immediately began to cry just as hard as you, securing you in a solid hug. You were surprised until you remembered he’d lost almost half his family to cancer. Telling him you were sick meant, in his mind, you were dying. 

“Max,” you said, still crying. “Max, I’m fine. I’m not, Max, I’m okay.” 

Maxwell clutched your nightgown tighter. “I can’t lose you,” he gasped, you feeling his chest heave. “Not you.” 

“Maxwell, I’m a boy!” You all but yelled, grabbing his face and making him look at you. His eyes went wide, hands taking yours. “I’m a boy,” you breathed, wiping away Maxwell’s tears. 

“That’s it?” Maxwell asked, looking you up and down. “That’s it? That’s all? Promise?” 

You nodded. “I promise. That’s all. Not dying.” 

“But still sick?” 

Another nod. “Still sick. My brain is sick, like yours.” 

Maxwell took a breath. He’d been diagnosed with childhood PTSD, and he hated it. “Just like mine?” 

“No,” you amended. “But close. My brain isn’t the same as my body. My brain is male, but my body is female.” 

Maxwell nodded. “So, you’re not my queen. You’re my king.” 

Smiling, you stroked his face, wiping away the final tears. “Yeah, your king.” 

The next day, after a night of simply holding each other and staying awake in each other’s arms, Maxwell insisted on canceling every meeting he had. He told everyone over the phone that you weren’t feeling well and he was going to take the day off to care for you. 

Taking care of you apparently meant cuddling you for the better part of the morning, occasionally murmuring compliments that made you blush. When he finally did manage to get you out of bed, he rummaged through his closet until he found an old pair of pyjamas for you to wear. They were worn out and a bit too big, but they were distinctly not women's clothes. 

“We can find something for your chest later today,” Maxwell promised, admiring you despite the fact that it was just pyjamas. “And your hair.” 

“Oh.” You reached a hand up on instinct, touching your hair. “Actually, can you do it?” 

Maxwell’s face scrunched. “Are you sure? My stylist can definitely do a better job than I can.” 

You nodded, turning from the mirror to face Maxwell. “I’m sure.” 

Despite what was about to be a bathroom hack job, Maxwell insisted on trying to give you, in his words, ‘a quality experience.’ He dragged one of your barstools into the bathroom, set yesterday’s newspaper on the floor to make cleaning easier, and even refused to use the kitchen shears. You simply watched, laughing as Maxwell passed you with the stool. “Do you want help?” 

“Nope!” Max said cheerily. “Today is about you, so I’m going to do all the heavy lifting!” 

“Literally,” you added, smiling as he put the stool down and rubbed his back. “Do you still love me?” 

Maxwell straightened, clearly confused. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?” 

“Because I’m a boy,” you said softly. “And that would make you, y’know,” 

“Gay?” Maxwell took your hands and kissed each of your palms, resting them on his cheeks when he was finished. “I don’t care who you are. I love you no matter what. You’re always going to be caring and handsome and perfect, and I will always, always love you.” 

You smiled, trying to get rid of the tears in your eyes. “I love you Max.” 

“I love you more my king.” 

You laughed, burying your face in his shoulder. “Oh, I’m never going to escape that, am I?” 

“Nope!” Maxwell said cheerily, scooping you up and placing you on the stool. “Now, my king,” he said, putting one of his old towels over your shoulders. “How do I do this?” 

“Well,” you said slowly, handing him the scissors. “The bulk has to go. Before we do anything.” 

Maxwell nodded, running his hands through your hair one last time before gathering it in a hair tie. “Ready?” 

“Maxwell, darling, I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.” Truth be told, you were gripping the edge of the stool so tight that your knuckles had gone white. “Just do it.” 

Taking a deep breath, Maxwell sunk the scissors just above the hair tie, face scrunching as he worked. Within a minute, he was gingerly placing the severed hair down on the counter, as cautious as if he was holding a removed arm. “Well. Now that that’s done. What now?” 

You opened your eyes. Hair, choppy and highly uneven, framed your jaw. It was a start, and you could feel Maxwell sifting his hands through your hair. You vaguely heard a joke about a mullet, and then he began to gauge length, humming to himself. 

“Max,” you said, so softly he probably didn’t even hear you. “Max.” 

“Hm? Have you decided on a style? I was just thinking we could do something like mine.” 

You shook your head, reaching for Maxwell’s razor that he still hadn’t put away. “Babe,” he said warningly. “What are you doing?” 

Before he could stop you or even get another word out, you turned the razor on and in one swift movement, shoved it down the center of your skull, sending a cascade of hair down your shoulders. 

“Babe!” Maxwell shouted, but you just handed him the razor and took a stiff breath. 

“Your turn,” you said, never tearing your eyes from the mirror. 

Maxwell was a lot more hesitant than you had been, but he did as you asked. Cradling your head with one hand, he continued what you’d started, taking surprisingly expert care of you. When he finished, he stepped back, turning the razor off and nodding. “Happy?” 

You turned to face him, meeting his eyes. “Yes,” you said, voice no higher than a whisper. “Max, darling, I’m finally myself.” 

Maxwell smiled, holding your hands and helping you down off the stool. “Why don’t we shower,” he suggested. “I’ll find you something to wear, and then we can go out shopping, okay?” 

It was a good plan. Maxwell turned the shower on, leaving you to bathe so he could pull clothes. 

“Try these,” he said, handing you your tightest sports bra and his boxers. You did, smiling as he passed you a shirt and pants. He’d outgrown them years ago, before he’d met you, but kept them for sentiment. Now, they fit you well, and you turned in a circle to see the outfit from all angles. 

“Shall we?” Maxwell asked once he was also dressed, holding an arm out to you. 

You laughed. “We shall,” you said, linking arms with him and following him out into the DC summer. 

It was odd, shopping for men’s clothes. Maxwell was insistent upon getting you a nice suit for events, and you followed him easily. Somehow, he knew all the safe shops, the ones where they accepted people like you. 

“And would you like to try a binding bra?” The woman who was helping you asked. 

You nodded. “Yes please.” 

She grabbed the appropriately sized bra and helped you in it. “That man of yours, he’s very supportive. You better keep him around, or someone else will snatch him up.” 

Smiling, you remembered Maxwell’s seemingly instant acceptance of you. “I don’t think him leaving will be a problem,” you said softly, admiring the suit you were in. “This is nice.” 

“Why don’t you go show your boyfriend,” the woman said, and you did. 

All throughout the day, Maxwell was happy by your side, even when people jeered and a reporter asked him how he felt dating a man. He simply shoved them off and said you and him were as happy as ever. 

And as you snuggled down into bed that night, lulled by the never ending bustle of the DC skyline, you realized that he was right. Tucked up under Maxwell’s arm, wearing his pyjama bottoms and no shirt, the soft stubble of your hair tickling his skin, you had never been happier.

[arrow-guy]

Broken Flock (11/??)

Summary: It’s been two years since you uprooted your life and left to figure out who you really are, leaving behind Bucky and Clint with little more than a note as a warning. Now, New York is calling your name and it’s time to go home. How will Clint and Bucky react to your return, and how will the time have affected your relationship?

A/N: Okay I’m actually kind of really excited about this chapter. I feel like it got away from me a little bit for a sec there in the first half. That being said, I really love the end of this chapter, and I hope you guys will as well. Please enjoy!

Page dividers by @carryonmyswansong

Pairing: WinterhawkxReader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Discussion of human experimentation (not in depth), Discussion of politics (the Accords)

Part 10

“I didn’t expect to be stuck in a conference room for this.”

“Trust me,” Steve says. “I didn’t think it’d come to this either, but-”

The door bursts open and everyone turns to look. General Ross stands in the doorway, hands behind his back. He looks too smug for my liking. If I weren’t so sore, and if I knew I wouldn’t get in trouble, I’d wipe that look right off his face.

Steve groans. “We had a change of plans.”

“Ah, so good of you to join us, Ms. (Y/L/N),” he says. He strides through the room to stand at the head of the table and address us. “I was beginning to wonder where you’d gone.”

“Last I checked, I don’t answer to you,” I snap. “None of us do.”

“You dropped off the map for a good two weeks.”

“I was kidnapped.”

“Even so-”

“What the hell is this about?” I cut in. “Because I was under the impression that this meeting concerned myself and the Avengers alone. Not you and your little government issued lackeys.”

“You’re awful hostile for someone speaking to her superior,” he ground out.

“Who, me?” I glance around at everyone in the room. “I’m a civilian and the Avengers are a private organization. I don’t work for you, Ross. None of us do.”

“You will,” he says. “When the Accords are put into governmental procedure.”

“See, I don’t know if you’re ever going to make headway with that little project of yours.” I shuffled around in my seat before leaning on the table. “Considering the fact that you refuse to work with one of the biggest players in this, who knows how many signatures you’ll get.”

“To what do we owe the displeasure, Thaddeus?” Tony asks.

Ross’ eye twitches. “You missed your deadline.”

“We were a little preoccupied in finding (Y/N),” Steve says. “As she said, she was kidnapped. You would know this if you’d read any of the correspondence we sent you concerning this.”

“And we wouldn’t be in this position if you’d quit running in circles and rejecting any kind of amendments we suggest,” Bucky adds. “We’ve been trying to work with you on this for months, yet you never seem to be able to make up your mind on what you want from us.”

“He wants complete and total control over the Avengers,” I say.

“Excuse me?” Ross grinds out.

“I said, you want to control the Avengers,” I repeat. I look to Natasha. “Did I stutter? I don’t think I stuttered.”

“Not that I heard,” she says.

I look Ross dead in the eye. “Do you need me to speak up? Or would it be helpful if I just signed instead?”

“(Y/N),” Steve warns.

I glare at Ross, but sit back in my chair. “Sorry.”

“You’re not in trouble,” Steve says. “But I don’t want you to say anything incriminating.”

I simply nod and keep quiet. Steve gestures to Tony, who stands to face General Ross.

“We weren’t planning on announcing this today, but we’ve given your proposal some serious thought, and we’ve decided to turn you down,” Tony says.

“You’re what?!” Ross hisses. “You can’t do that!”

“Can’t we? Because we’ve been operating independently for the past two years, and things seem to be going just fine. The only major incident we’ve dealt with since Sokovia-”

Ross interjects, “Which was your fault, if I’m remembering correctly.”

“Shut the fuck up, Thaddeus,” I snap. “You don’t get to interrupt people just because you’re a General.”

Clint snorts and I squeeze his knee in a silent plea for him to be quiet.

Tony clears his throat. “As I was saying, the only incident we’ve dealt with since Sokiva has been (Y/N)’s kidnapping. And we managed to find her just fine, no thanks to you.”

“And,” Natasha says. “If I’m remembering correctly, we’ve been fully functional since S.H.I.E.L.D. went under, even without asking for any assistance from the likes of you.” She tilts her head to the side and folds her arms. “And yet you expect us to just hand ourselves over to you.”

“You just don’t get it, do you?”

“No,” I say. “I think we understand perfectly. You think that the Avengers have too much power. The only way that you can see to ensure no one gets hurt is to put a leash on them. And I can see where you’re coming from, and your care for the public, if you can even call it that, is commendable. But this ass backwards, roundabout route you’re taking is absolutely fucking absurd.”

“You said you’re not part of this team!”

“I did, but I never said I didn’t have any kind of stake in whether or not the Accords are approved. I have powers, remember? I’m directly affected by whatever kind of legislation is put in place because of those Accords. But you could never understand that, because you’ve only ever seen people like us as power hungry egomaniacs. But look around.” I gesture to the room. “No one here asked for what we got. Bruce and I were accidents, Steve was a scientific crapshoot, regardless of how successful, Bucky was kidnapped and brainwashed and experimented on without his consent, Natasha and Clint’s backgrounds are questionable at best, and Tony was blown up by his own bomb. His first suit was built out of necessity, not curiosity or the need to seize power.”

“(Y/N)...” Bucky murmurs. He takes my hand and squeezes it gently.

“By all means, work with the Avengers. But quit acting like you’ve got the moral high ground, because all you've done is set up roadblocks and refuse to compromise in any capacity."

Ross looks down his nose at me. "You've got a lot of opinions for someone so vehemently against being part of their team."

"Well, you’re ready to imprison any single powered person who doesn’t sign, simply because you deem us to be threats.” I narrow my eyes. "But last I checked, you can't arrest someone for having opinions."

"Maybe not, but you certainly seem to know more about the Accords than what's been made available to the public-"

"We've kept her up to date with the proceedings," Steve says. "She has every right to know about something that would change the way she lives her life."

"That's not a decision for you to make."

Steve simply shrugs. "You never said anything about our discussions being confidential."

“Why you-”

“You do see the position you’ve put us in, right?” Steve presses. “We’re trying to work out ways to protect our loved ones, powers or no, and still do our jobs, but you keep blocking every single suggestion we make. You want us to cooperate, but you make it impossible.”

“You say that as if you’re not trying to bend the Accords to work for you.”

“No,” Tony says. “That’s what you’re doing. Your unwillingness to collaborate with just proves (Y/N) right. You don’t want to work with us. You want to control us. Because we’re not predictable, and that scares you and your little government buddies.”

Steve rises from his seat and stares Ross down. “See, we’d be happy to work with you. But that means working with us.”

Ross tries to protest, but shuts his mouth when Bucky stands abruptly. Bucky’s glare can only be described as glacial. No one says a word.

Ross shifts closer to Steve and Natasha shoots up from her chair. Clint, Tony, and I follow suit. I shake out my wings to make myself look bigger than I am and squint at General Ross. He’s startled to find all of us resisting him and turns back to Steve, only to find him with a similarly cold expression and his arms folded across his chest.

“If you’re not going to work with us,” Steve says. “I suggest you leave.”

“Fine.” He looks around the room at each of us. “But I will be back.”

“Until you’re ready to compromise, you’re not welcome,” Tony quips. “But we’ll gladly escort you out.”

Ross seems to know he’s been beat and makes a hasty retreat. His lackeys follow him from the conference room and down the hallway, back to whatever they arrived in. When I’m sure they’re gone, I sink back into my seat and cover my face with my hands. My heart is beating out of my chest and every ache from two days earlier is back with a vengeance.

“Are you okay?” Clint asks, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder.

I nod and turn to press my face to his shoulder. “Too much excitement for one day, that’s all.”

Clint hums in agreement. “I don’t think he’ll be back for a while.”

I laugh. “Of course he won’t, he got stared down by a room full of Avengers. He probably shat himself as soon as Nat stood up.”

“Of course he did,” Clint grins at Natasha. “She’s terrifying.”

Natasha snorts and Clint tries to make another joke to actually make her laugh. Steve watches them and I wait till I can catch his eye to say something.

“Is it safe to assume that wasn’t part of the plan today?” I ask.

Steve sighs. “No, it wasn’t.” He glares at the door. “General Ross seems to have a bad habit of showing up when he’s least wanted.”

“And ignoring anything he doesn’t want to hear,” Tony adds. “I swear, we sent him at least three notices about the delay, and he just ignored every single one of them.”

“You seriously put off negotiations to find me?”

“Of course we did, (Y/N),” Tony says. “You’re family. You know what we do for family.”

I frown. “Drop everything.”

“Exactly.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, sweetheart, we did.” Bucky takes my hand. “We weren’t going to leave you behind after everything we did to find you last time.”

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I blink them away and whisper, “Thank you. All of you. Really.”

“There’s nothing to thank us for,” Natasha says. “Don’t argue with me about this.”

I laugh, but sniffle a moment later. “Okay, I won’t.”

“You wanna tell us why you actually wanted to meet?” Clint asks.

“Right,” Steve shifts in his seat. “We believe that we’ve apprehended everyone involved with your kidnapping, (Y/N). They’ll be tried and probably sentenced before the end of the month.”

“Oh, wow.” Surprised, I look between Steve and Tony. “I forgot how quickly you work.”

“We put in a rush order for our favorite Sesame Street character,” Tony says.

I laugh. “So I’m Big Bird now?”

“Well, you’re smart, you care about your friends and family, and you’re nice. Well…” He gestures vaguely. “Most of the time.”

“I’ll take it.”

Tony hums. “I started looking into Hoffman’s research, and it’s pretty grim stuff.”

“Oh?”

“A lot about genetic mutation and splicing animal DNA with human. From what Banner and I have found, she’d been doing this for a long time, and getting away with it, too. Based on her notes from the last five years, you’re her most successful experiment, and she didn’t even know you existed until six months ago.” He sighs. “I won’t go into too much detail, but the plans she had… she’s bad news in every sense of the phrase.”

“I got lucky, then.”

“I didn’t want to say that, but yeah. You did.”

“I see.”

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). You shouldn’t’ve been mixed up in any of this in the first place.”

“It’s not your fault. She would’ve caught up to me eventually. It’s not like ten foot wings are easy to hide.”

“All of that aside,” Steve says. “They’ll be going away for a long time. The rest of their lives, if we can manage it. They won’t be able to get to you ever again.”

I nod. “What’ll you do about Ross?”

“If we can manage it, we’ll keep pushing for reformed Accords. None of us want to be limited in what we can do, but it was easier to operate when we had the power of a government agency or two to back us up.” Steve shrugs. “If he can’t agree to that, we won’t be signing.”

“And you’re all cool with that?”

Tony nods. “We’ve argued over this for months, and getting your insight as someone on the outside helped as well. We’re not backing down from this.”

“Good. There’s no reason to roll over just because some dickhead bully demands it. He needs your support on this. He’s blind if he can’t see that.”

“Our thoughts exactly,” Steve says.

“Has she been cleared to go home yet, though?” Clint asks.

Steve nods. “She’s good to go as early as tomorrow morning.”

“Great,” Clint says, his relief obvious in his voice. “Simone has to go out of town on Saturday and without her, there’s no one left to dog-sit.”

Natasha rolls her eyes and Tony makes makes a joke about Clint’s loyalties lying elsewhere. I can’t pay attention to any of it, though. My thoughts keep straying back to what it’ll be like to be back in my apartment and away from the rest of the team. I can’t help thinking that it’ll be a little more peaceful, especially with the constant sounds of the settling apartment building around me.

Bucky squeezes my hand and I shake the fog from my head. “Hm?”

“You okay?”

I try to reassure him with a smile. “I’m fine. Just trying to plan what we need to do to get ready to go tomorrow.”

“We’ll head out bright ‘n early tomorrow. Okay?” I nod and he kisses my forehead.

“You’re sitting in the back, Clint.”

“What? You know I get carsick.”

“You don’t get carsick, you just don’t like the legroom in the back.”

“Can’t help that, Bucky, I’m a tall guy!”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “You know (Y/N) needs the front seat. She can’t sit normally because of her wings.”

Clint scowls. “Then let me drive.”

“Hell no, you’re a nightmare behind the wheel.”

“You’re no fun!” I clear my throat and both men look to me and smile. “Hey! You’re finally up.”

I shake my head. “I was up an hour ago, I just wanted to make sure I had everything.”

“Oh, right.” Clint strides across the driveway and takes my bag from me. “We were just-”

“Squabbling,” I laugh. “I know. It’s what you two do best sometimes.”

“We can do other things too,” he mumbles.

Bucky shakes his head and joins Clint and I. “Ignore him. He’s just grumpy because someone called about a burst pipe in the basement.”

“Oh shit.” Clint scratches the back of his neck and I place my hand on his arm. “Have you called someone yet?”

“Yeah, they already showed up, but it won’t be a cheap fix.”

“It’ll be fine, I’m sure. We can get it sorted out when we get back, right?” He nods and wanders off to pack up the car.

Bucky hooks his arm around my waist and I tilt my head up to kiss his cheek. “You’re looking better this morning,” he says.

“I slept really well last night. Probably has something to do with you two.”

“You give us too much credit, (Y/N).”

“I don’t think you give yourselves enough.”

He smiles and shakes his head. “I’ll go get the car set up.”

“Okay. I’ll be over in a minute.”

I stand back and watch them move around the car. Clint scoops up two more duffel bags, I assume they’re his and Bucky’s, from beside the car and places them in the trunk. Bucky puts the passenger seat down and I can see him roll his eyes when Clint sidles up beside him and says something close to his ear. Clint laughs when Bucky pinches his side and I can’t help smiling.

It suddenly hits me how thankful I am that I have both of them. I don’t know what I would do without them, or even where I’d be right now if they weren’t in my life.

My smile slowly slips away as I realize that I love them. Different from when we first met and more than I did when I left.

My heart flutters and I press my fingers to my lips, just letting the realization wash over me. I’m not scared. Just peaceful. This feels right.

“You okay, (Y/N)?”

I refocus and meet Clint’s eyes. “Hm?”

“You were zoning out,” he says. “Are you feeling alright?”

I smile. “I’m good. Nothing to worry about.”

“You sure?”

I nod and approach the car. “Mhm.”

He wraps his arm around my shoulders and kisses the top of my head. “Okay, good.”

“Help me into the car?”

“Of course.” He grins and gestures to the open passenger door. “Your chariot awaits.”

----------

Part 12

How’s that for an ending? I’m pretty fond of it, personally. I promise this isn’t the grand ending, but we’re getting close, I think. But for now, we know that the reader loves her boys, and that’s what really matters.

I’d love to know how you reacted! I always love knowing what you guys think, so please comment, reblog, like, and/or shoot me an ask!

If you’d like to be tagged in future chapters, please let me know!

Tag list:

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[lilfellasblog]

Truly *Nothing* Is Spookier Than Self-Care

Summary: Janus absolutely despises being accepted by Thomas and the Light Sides. He can’t help but notice how they very much do not put themselves first. He decides to change that.

A/N: If you liked this, please reblog. It is the only way to help this fic reach a wider audience. This story comes from this ask by @foreverfangirlingalways! Thank you so much for the inspiration and the wonderful prompt! I hope I did it justice!

TW: very light angst, like almost no angst. Small amounts of stress and mild flailing to adapt when the plan doesn't go perfectly.

Word count: 2648

AO3 here!

Fic Masterlist here!

Although Janus was grateful to be accepted by his Host, an aspect of such that he absolutely loved was seeing just how dysfunctional the Light Sides were in their self-care. They certainly had a great deal of work to do, but they held themselves to such high standards, they seemed to constantly move around every waking moment. Janus had been attempting to get the Light Sides more focused on taking care of themselves throughout the day, but the key word here is attempting. They’d thank him for his suggestion and promise they’d do it later.

Janus wondered why he was the one stuck with Deceit as a name.

It was now time for more drastic measures that he hoped wouldn’t land him with a giant frog again. He knew he’d have to go one at a time if he wanted any chance of success, so he decided to target each Side according to the level of concern he had for them. Naturally, this meant Roman would be his first vict- *cough* recipient.

He found Roman precisely where he’d expect him: inside his en suite gym, hair damp with perspiration.

“In the gym again? Don’t you have anything else to do with your spare time?” Janus asked innocently.

Roman started and placed the weight he’d been lifting on the ground. “Greetings Janus! And I do, there’s just always room for improvement!”

Hm, direct won’t work with him in this. Interesting. “I was wondering if you might help me with a sewing project, although I see you’re busy.”

Roman grabbed a nearby towel to wipe his face. “I’m never too busy to assist a Side in need! What is it you’d like my assistance on?”

Janus hummed. “I was hoping to experiment with a few costume ideas for Halloween. I think a pirate might be suitable for me.”

Roman grinned, excitement beginning to shine in his eyes. “Indeed! Allow me a few minutes to wash up, I’ll join you!” He waved his hand. “You’ll find two sewing stations in my room!” He pranced off to the bathroom without another word.

“Don’t take too long!” Janus called after him, hoping he wouldn’t have to wait much longer than an hour for the prince to get his appearance in order.

He only had to wait a half hour before Roman joined him in the room, hair still slightly damp. Janus internally cheered when Roman didn’t have his ridiculously complicated prince uniform on, instead wearing a red sweater with pumpkins stitched on.

“Roman, would you mind trying on the clothes once I’ve finished them? We have similar body types, although you’re more muscular, and my current outfit is simply a bear to get on and off.”

Roman blinked in surprise. “I… I suppose I could, are you certain you want me to do that?”

“If you wouldn’t mind, yes.”

After another moment of prolonged shock, Roman pulled himself together and struck a pose, exaggerated grin on his face. “Well far be it from a prince to forsake a Side in their hour of need!”

Janus smiled, relieved. “Wonderful.” He summoned his nearly-completed pirate costume: tight black pants, calf-high boots, and a billowy shirt with a deep V-neck. “I’m just about to finish these, would you mind taking a look at the seams on the outside of the leg and in the armpit of the shirt? I want to make sure I’ve pinned those in a way that won’t pull.”

Roman and Janus discussed the different options they had for stitching, and once they’d decided Janus had Roman put in the stitching for the pants while he finished stitching the shirt. Janus was pleased that Roman had decided to go for a more complex stitch; he knew the Side enjoyed getting absorbed in a task, and that he enjoyed sewing. Sure enough, after an hour, he looked over and saw Roman’s irises sparkling in red and gold, tongue stuck out of the side of his mouth. 4 hours later, and they’d both finished.

Janus stretched, watching Roman bounce slightly in his seat from excitement. “Well Roman, we did good work. Would you try these on?”

Roman hesitated, then forced himself to smile, Janus watching him carefully. “Certainly! Are you sure you don’t want to?”

“I am, I’d hate to keep getting in and out of my outfit, especially if changes need to be made.”

Roman inhaled deeply and took the clothes, holding them carefully. “I shall not dilly-dally then! I shall return soon!”

Janus plastered a wide smile on his face. “Wonderful!”

That was another thing, the sheer amount of smiling the Light Sides did and how he found himself going along with it. It made his face hurt at time from the sheer amount of smiling.

Roman emerged, posture stiff and forced but proud. Janus raised both eyebrows.

“Roman, you look wonderful! Stand in front of the mirror, won’t you?”

The prince shuffled over, eyes darting between himself and the ground.

Janus appraised the Side before him, and was relieved he wouldn’t have to lie about a single thing. “Goodness Roman, you like incredible! The skin-tight pants look wonderful on your legs, and the shirt highlights your figure! I must say, I’m quite jealous. I’ve been also considering going as a bard this year, why don’t you just take this costume? I shows off all of your muscles and your broad shoulders especially!”

Roman looked at him, surprised. “Are you certain? You’ve spent so long on this, I couldn’t possibly-”

“I am, I’ll enjoy knowing you’re enjoying something I made. Come now, Thomas is tired, and it’s best to look in the distance to prevent eye strain. Would you like to watch some Disney movies?”

Roman frowned and looked back towards where his en suite gym was. “I really should be getting back to a workout…”

“Nonsense, you’ve been working out so much, and you’ve been working hard in other areas. You’ll be more productive after some rest.”

Janus let out a breath when Roman shrugged and summoned a large television. He got some beanbags and snacks for them, and Janus watched as Roman slowly relaxed and got engrossed in the movies, eagerly agreeing to watch one after the other. Once dinner rolled around, Janus suggested a famILY movie night, which got Patton on board, which meant everyone would attend. Roman had changed back into his pumpkin sweater, and Janus was the last one awake, pleased to see the other Sides asleep, surrounded by snacks and illuminated by the glow of the television. He sank out to his room, and planned his next intervention.

/////

Janus waited a week so as to not draw any suspicion to himself, and found Patton in the kitchen. He was typing furiously on a tablet, Thomas currently working through whether or not he should use his celebrity status to get ahead in line so he could get back to editing a new video faster so he could get that out to his fans so he could-

He pulled his mind back from Patton’s, reeling slightly.

You need this more than I thought.

Janus backed up a bit, then walked more heavily to announce his presence to Patton. Patton looked up at him happily.

“Heya Janus! What can I do ya for?”

Janus smiled easily, the cheerful Side great at lifting moods. “I see you’re in the middle of something, but once you get a moment, I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind helping me bake something? It’s a skill I’d like to acquire.”

Patton lit up. “Well sure!! Give me just a few minutes and I’ll be right with you!”

Janus set a tea kettle to boil and put a mint tea bag in Patton’s mug and a black tea bag in his own. Just as Patton sighed and set the tablet on the table, the kettle went off and Janus poured the water before Patton could do it. He didn’t miss how Patton rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck.

He gently set the mug of tea in front of Patton. Patton lifted and smelled it, closing his eyes.

“Mmmmmm, mint, my favorite!”

“Oh really? Lucky guess, I suppose.”

Patton looked up at him knowingly. “You’re good at guessing,” he teased.

“Thank you for noticing. I’ve noticed that Thomas’ Sides have been quite busy lately. Do you think a chocolate beet cake would go over well?”

“Do I?!” Patton asked, eyes shining and the edges of his irises glowing light blue.

Patton donned plastic gloves and got to work peeling and grating the beets, while Janus combined the wet and dry ingredients in separate bowls. He asked Patton for reassurance on occasion, despite being confident in his abilities. He let Patton take over once it was time to combine everything and put it in the oven.

Patton tapped his finger against his chin. “Hmmmmm… what kind of frosting should we do? I’m thinking either buttercream or ganache, what do you think?”

Janus shrugged. “Why not just store-bought frosting? It seems easier.”

Patton looked at him incredulously. “For a beet cake?! Oh no, we may as well make something while it’s baking!”

Shitshitshitshitshitshit- Janus frantically thought back to the brief research he’d done on cakes.

“How about ganache? I’ve always been intrigued about that.”

“Sure!” Patton chirped. Janus let out a breath as Patton bounded over to the fridge to grab heavy cream. Patton showed Janus how to make ganache, and Janus was surprised and relieved at how simple it was.

As the cake cooked and the ganache cooled, Janus and Patton chatted amicably, Janus asking questions about something Patton would bring up and watching Patton’s eyes become bluer and bluer as he kept talking. The oven pinged, and Janus convinced Patton that a game of cards was in order while they let the cake cool. One game led to five, and by then it was time to gently reheat the ganache and pour it over the cake.

Patton jumped when he realized the time. “Oh gosh!! I’m so sorry, I don’t have dinner planned! I can-”

“Don’t worry about it Patton,” Janus interrupted. “I actually have a recipe I’ve been meaning to try out if you don’t mind relinquishing the kitchen?”

Patton smiled nervously. “Do you want any help?”

I might have to adjust my plan. “No, but I would like some pleasant company. You’re on your feet so much, it’s good to soak them.” He summoned a bucket filled with warm water and a bag of lavender-scented epsom salts. “I won’t be long.”

Patton poured some of the epsom salts into the bucket of water and groaned and whimpered at the relaxing sensation on his feet. Janus turned and allowed himself a small smile, then cooked up some 4-ingredient Italian chicken breasts from a recipe he’d found online, along with some roasted veggies and some pasta aglio e olio on the side. He set the table when Patton had his eyes closed in pleasure, then got everything served and helped Patton massage and dry his feet.

After dinner, in which everyone complimented the cooking, Patton declared he would go to bed a little early tonight, so Janus sent him upstairs with some chamomile tea. He cleaned the kitchen, and felt rather accomplished.

Roman and Patton are taken care of, thank God. He chuckled to himself. Up next, two for the price of one!

/////

Janus stood in front of Logan’s closed door, holding a pencil and large pad of paper, uncharacteristically nervous.

I’ve been able to fool Roman and Patton, but Logan is smart. He may see through this.

He knocked on the door, uncertain of his success.

Logan answered the door, every hair and fiber of clothing in order. “Hello Janus.”

Oh dear Lord in Heaven, this man needs to relax. Janus put on his best smile. “Hello Logan. I’ve become rather fascinated with the constellation Serpens and was wondering if you’d help me chart it and some stars and constellations around it? I’m afraid this is out of my area of expertise and I know this happens to be a field you’re familiar with.”

Logan looked at him skeptically. “You want to chart the stars with me,” he deadpanned. “You have no ulterior motives?”

“None whatsoever,” Janus said.

Logan looked over Janus’ shoulder at the wall, upset.

He knows you lied, salvage this! Janus sighed, pushing it a little. “Truth be told, Logan, I would like to get to know you more, and although I truly am interested in learning more about the constellation of the snake, spending time with you was my ultimate goal.”

Logan looked surprised, a faint blush on his cheekbones. “Oh. I suppose… that would be satisfactory.”

Janus leaned on all of his acting abilities to look relaxed. “Excellent. Would your room suffice?”

“It would.”

Janus laid his pad of paper and pencil on the floor where Logan indicated, and timed his next move while Logan was looking over his books.

“Say, Logan, you and Virgil seem to enjoy each other’s company, shall we ask him to join us?”

Logan stopped flipping through the thick tome currently in his hand long enough to raise his arm in a summon. Virgil rose up and grabbed his head.

“God L, how are you guys not constantly dizzy?” Virgil jumped when he saw Janus. “Oh! Hey, what’s up guys?” Janus made sure to hide his endearment for the anxious Side when he saw Virgil cringe

“Janus would like assistance mapping the constellation Serpens and the surrounding night sky. He suggested you accompany us,” Logan explained without raising his eyes from his book.

Virgil looked between Janus and Logan. “Just like… hang out?”

Janus decided to step in. “Yes. I noticed you seem to enjoy the company of others, but aren’t always interested in participating.”

Virgil offered a soft smile. “Yeah, I guess… that’s chill. Mind if I just listen to music and stuff?”

“Not at all,” Janus and Logan said at the same time.

Virgil snorted, then flopped on the bed, put in an earbud, and started up his phone.

One down, one to go.

Logan sat in front of Janus, irises already dark blue.

Two down, it seems.

Janus listened intently as Logan spoke at length about Serpens, and then about related constellations, and then about related galaxies and stars, with Janus asking questions along the way. They charted out Serpens and filled the large piece of paper with other stars and constellations, and even Virgil would chime in every now and again.

Janus definitely didn’t almost get emotional when he saw how relaxed the two normally-tense Sides were.

When Patton knocked on Logan’s door for dinner, Virgil swore.

“Shit! Did I miss something? Did Thomas need me?! Fuck, I-”

“Relax, Virgil,” Janus soothed. “I kept an eye on things, Thomas is just fine. See for yourself.”

Virgil’s eyes grew distant for several long moments before refocused. He blew out a breath.

“Okay, whew,” he sent a grateful look towards Janus. “Thanks man.”

Janus waved. “Not a problem. Let’s not keep Patton waiting.”

Janus followed the two Sides downstairs, feeling victorious at how relaxed their shoulders were. Virgil was even walking with proper posture!

Dinner was a relaxed affair, the Sides content and laughing easily. Remus was chattering on about one thing one moment and another the next, with Logan offering feedback and Virgil changing the topic for Patton’s sake. Janus ate, not admitting how nice it felt to be included in famILY mealtime. It took him til nearly the end of dinner to realize no one was watching him out of the corner of their eye.

They trust me, he realized.

By the end of the night, he stretched out on his bed, pulling his heated blanket up to his neck.

What a waste of time. Totally not worth it, he thought to himself as he planned his next meeting with Roman.

[cheetahsprints]

All good things now come from you

Summary: Wu visits Mako. 

What have I done to fall so hard for you? 

The first time is a total surprise. Mako flops out of bed, kicking away the tangled sheet as he grunts with frustration. Many nights he experiences nightmares, and he reaches for another body. He doesn’t know who he expects to be there or why. But there’s no one there. It’s just him in his lonesome apartment. 

He’s grown tired of Korra and Asami trying to include him in things out of pity. Of course, there’s offers to hang out separately, but in his patheticness he still feels awkward being alone with either of them. He’s also grown tired of Bolin’s attempts to set him up. Nothing seems to click, and he can’t help comparing them to… to… he doesn’t know who, except he does, and it hurts. It’s not Korra or Asami, he’s not quite that bad. Any lingering feelings have turned platonic.

He gets ready for the day, opens the door, and he’s there. Mako abruptly remembers that he doesn’t have work today. Now, he’s not sure whether that’s a positive.

Wu.

Mako intones, “What are you doing here.”

He’s supposed to be on some kind of tour with his… music career. Mako likes many of Wu’s traits that he’d never admit, but his singing leaves a lot to be desired. Nonetheless, something about Wu’s alluring voice attempting to hold a note always makes his heart jump into his throat.

“Is that any way to talk to your old friend?” Wu spreads his arms. Mako is surprised he doesn’t go in for a hug. Perhaps, he’s learned some boundaries.

“Old employer, you mean.”  Mako is semi-aware that he’s trying too hard to distance himself. He tried and tried to drop hints about his feelings, and he’s lost hope that Wu will ever see him that way, that he even could.

“Aw come on, after all we’ve been through?” Wu frowns. “I thought I meant a little more to you.”

Mako raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms. “Did you want something or did you just come by to say hello?”

“I thought we could just… talk. I don’t know. I’m bored.”

So, Mako lets him inside. Wu looks around a bit, then shuffles over by a wall where he stands there staring at Mako. He offers, “Are you going to… sit down?”

“No, I’m good.”

“Um… okay.”

They talk. Hours fly by that Mako scarcely notices at first. He has plenty of input in the beginning, but eventually he lays on the bed. He places his hands behind his head, closes his eyes and just listens to his voice, his unexpected insights. Wu speaks of his travels, with plenty of humorous stories. 

He vanishes as suddenly as he came. Mako must have fallen asleep, because when he opens his eyes Wu is gone with no sign that he was there.

You are my everything… My head, my heart, my mind, my wing

It takes the second time to hear the edge in Wu’s voice, his deliberate leaning on the light-hearted. Whenever the serious side of his stories seems like it will thicken, he changes course.

This time, he has visited Mako at work. Mako has some backed up paperwork to take care of. A few pages in, he’s slacking and trying to play Pai Sho with himself; it’s not going well. He’s not a keen player to begin with, never as interested in it as Bolin. A hand reaches out and moves a piece. Mako looks up, and there’s Wu.

Mako actually hasn’t noticed the station is empty except for him until this moment. 

“Wu… it’s been a few weeks hasn’t it? How are you?”

Wu waves a hand. “Oh you know. Seeing things, meeting people. Did I tell you that time I ran into the swamp chasing that -”

“Right. If you like the swamp so much, maybe you should live there.”

Wu stares at him. His gaze is searching, but Mako is uncertain what he’s looking for. 

“Do you want to play?”

“Oh I’m terrible!”

“Well, I’m so great either…”

Wu reaches up to run his fingers through his own hair. He pauses and drops his hand. “I guess we can be terrible… together…”

There’s a twitch of a smile, and Mako realizes his smiles haven’t reached his eyes, not even the last time he saw him.

The past, the present, tomorrow too... 

The third time, part of Mako is expecting it. He’s at a spa after all, in a steam room. It was Asami’s suggestion, and it was just going to be them hanging out. Then, somehow everyone else got wind of it and showed up. And by everyone, he means: Korra, Bolin, Opal, Wing and Wei, Tu, Jinora, Kai, even Lin. Not every single person he knows fairly well, but it might as well have been. 

He managed to ditch them all at one point. He got a little… overwhelmed when they started talking about Kuvira. He definitely did not start sweating and run out of there like a chickendeer with its head cut off. 

Mako’s eyes snap open when he feels a brief and slightly damp sensation on his forehead. Wu grins at him, but his eyes are unfocused. It’s unsettling.

“Did you just… kiss me?”

“Haha sure… oh buddy, the heat must be getting to ya.”

Mako glares at him. He knows what he felt, and there’s no other explanation. He decides not to press the issue. Then, his eyes wander to Wu’s bare torso and his throat tightens. Wu lowers himself to sit beside him. It’s close but not so close as to be brushing against each other. Mako squints. It seems deliberate. Does Wu know about his feelings? Is he grossed out or just trying to spare him the rejection? Mako’s head gets kind of spinny.

This time is mostly silent. Mako - to his own surprise - is the one who tries to start conversation. Wu seems lost in thought though, and his responses are too monosyllabic to work into more. Occasionally, Wu catches Mako’s eye when Mako glances at him. Every time, Mako looks down at his own lap, cheeks heated and not from the steam. 

I’ll spend my final day with you

The fourth time, Mako is so shocked it angers him.

It’s a bust gone wrong. He’s tied up, definitely not expecting any visitors. That sonorous voice calls to him, “Heyy Mako. Looks like you’re all tied up, am I interrupting?”

Mako’s face aches where he was punched, one of his eyes is swollen shut, and he’s pretty sure a few ribs are cracked, if not broken. Somehow, he manages to glare at Wu. Then, he panics.

“What are you doing here?!”  Mako squirms, but it’s no good. “Get out of here!”

“Nah, I’m good. Can’t stay long though, but I got you a present.” Wu tosses him a knife. There are jewels in the hilt. “Nothing extravagant, but I think you can take it from here? The guard was asleep… they hired a kid, poor thing. He looks to be about… twelve? Maybe you should I dunno, adopt him or something.”

Mako stares at the knife. This has to be one messed up dream resulting from head trauma. “I - I feel too young to be a… a dad to a pre-teen and… I don’t think I’d make a good one.”

“Nonsense! You have just the kind of experience to relate to the kid. Big brother then?”

Because that went so well with Kai, though that was more Bolin’s mission than his. “He’d probably just see me as condescending.”

Wu shrugs. “Well, see you later Mako. I - I hope I can see you again soon.”

He walks out. Not long after, Mako escapes by managing to cut the ropes with his limited range of movement. It helps that the obviously expensive dagger, though probably meant to be decorative, is incredibly sharp. He hoists the kid over his shoulder kicking and screaming, then leaves it up to Lin to sort out. He has too many of his own issues. 

Later, when he’s giving his statement, he’s at a loss explaining his escape. 

He decides to loosely suggest that the kid helped him out. He’s adopted to a nice family within the week, and Mako sends him an encouraging letter with Bolin’s assistance with the wording. He doesn’t tell a single soul about seeing Wu.

I hope you feel the way I do, I hope you give yourself up too

The fifth time, he gets the immediate sense something is very wrong, and he’s been blind this whole time. He’s walking through the spirit wilds of Republic City, just to clear his head. Wu stumbles out from a tangle of vines. He’s disheveled, a complete wreck. His eyes are wild.

“Mako… Mako…”

“Wu?” For the first time, Mako reaches out to him as though to cradle him.

His hands pass right through him. Mako gasps, his eyes widening. “What - how -”

Wu gives him a pleading look and whispers, “You have to save me Mako… please… if I mean even a quarter to you what you - what you mean to me.”

“Save you…? What do you mean? From what? Are you projecting your spirit or something? Since when can you -”

Wu puts his hand up. “Enough questions. I’ve officially run out of time, Mako. I - I love -”

Then, he fades, just as Mako chokes, “You -”

 Mako can’t breathe. He sprints to the station and barges in on Lin.

“Mako? What do you think you’re -”

Mako slams his palms flat on the desk. “It’s Wu!”

Minutes feel like hours. Korra isn’t able to sense him, claiming to Mako’s horror that it means his life force is weak. Eventually, they’ve gathered everyone who has remotely associated with Wu in the last few months. His location is tracked to somewhere in the swamp… which ended up being the result of Mako’s gut feeling based on circumstantial evidence.

The evidence being that Wu somehow brought up the swamp in every conversation. Something that he only vaguely recollects after thinking about it really hard. 

Mako finds him first, of course. He’s laying in a muddy ditch, as disheveled as when his spirit most recently appeared. There are scrapes on every inch of skin he can see, and an especially deep wound somewhere in the abdomen. He’s wrapped in glowing vines that may or may not be keeping him on the cusp of life. The blood is difficult to see amongst the mud and vines, but Mako can smell it. He rushes to Wu and kneels down. He gently scoops him up, even though he knows he shouldn’t move him.

It’s probably too late. The vines retreat.

“Wu, please. Please don’t leave me. You were wrong okay? I care about you so, so much.” Mako finally releases his stranglehold on his deepest emotions, and the tears flow. “You need to pull through this, you need to fight so I can - so I can - tell you that I-”

He can’t say the words, not like this, not when he can’t even hear them.

Soon, the others appear. Korra and Kya quickly rush to his side and take over. He stays close. His vision blurring. Someone pulls him away, rambling something. Someone else puts a blanket around his shoulders. Someone says, “It’ll be alright.”

Mako can see the doubt in their eyes.

Mako and Wu are carted in different directions. It feels wrong, to be pulled away from him. However, he doesn’t think he can take it if the worst scenario is true. 

How could he miss it? 

Mako is numb and quiet as hours or maybe days pass. It’s discovered that Wu met someone claiming to be a scouting agent. Apparently, he had worked with Varrick and Bolin at one point, and that was all that was needed for Wu to trust him.

Mako should’ve never left his side.

It went very south. Wu was innocent in everything, but of course he somehow ended up in the crossfire of a scandal involving spirit vines, former Kuvira followers, and big, big debts. He was nothing but a puppet for some fiend to hide behind.

“I’m in love with him,” Mako says out loud, just so the universe at least can hear it. Of course, he’s overhead by several people. He distantly registers he’s in the air temple. He doesn’t know when that happened. 

“...You’re kidding,” Bolin remarks, staring. 

“You didn’t know?”

“Dude… I thought you were straight. Everyone knew Wu was into you, but we thought it was an epically tragic case of unreciprocated affection!”

“There’s nothing epic about that,” Mako grumpily mutters. He’d thought himself in that position once, and Bolin is making it sound like fun mover material.

When he explains how he guessed Wu’s location, Lin of all people says, “He was about as obvious as you were with how you felt. That is, too subtle… by the spirits, how could you two be such idiots?”

“I know right? They’re made for each other,”  Asami says. 

And…

Oh.

“He didn’t know.”

“Probably not, Mako.”

Mako slaps his forehead. “I’m such a moron.”

No one responds to that, but they don’t refute it either. He doesn’t blame them.

I’m damned to feel the way I do

Mako is going to visit Wu. It feels strange the other way around. He carefully crosses the threshold, flowers clutched in his hand. It feels weird, but it also didn’t feel right not to bring anything. This is it, after all; an end and a beginning.

“When I saw you, hurt and lifeless… there are just so many things I wish I had said,” Mako murmurs. “Despite the time I’ve had to think about, I still don’t know what words to choose. I couldn’t even say it to your face, but this is catharsis, I suppose.”

He goes on, “I’m sure you know, when we first met I thought you were one of the most obnoxious people on the planet. Okay, maybe you didn’t know - or if you did, you hid it well. Somewhere along the line I started to see… what a truly amazing and strong person you are.”

“You really impressed me with how you had grown,” Mako continues. His chest aches. He’s not sure what he’s doing. He takes a few steps closer and drops to his knees. “I can’t imagine a world without you in it. I couldn’t even bring myself to tell you goodbye. Every stupid little thing you would do became so endearing, it made me so - so stupid. A stupid fool in l-”

He still can’t get the word out, not when addressing Wu without him being there. Silence falls as Mako loses the strength to talk. He wipes at his dampened cheek feebly with his sleeve. 

“What happened to my big tough guy? Not that there’s an -” A pause and a weak cough. “Anything wrong with being touchy-feely. Good for you.”

Mako drops the flowers, and he rushes so fast to stand that his knee rams into the metal bed frame. He winces, then he looks at Wu, and his minor pain evaporates. Wu’s eyes are half-lidded, his knuckles pale where he’s clutching the sheet. He’s clearly struggling to stay awake. However, he gives Mako a lopsided smile, his beautiful eyes twinkling. 

“It’s a  good thing you don’t have to, huh? Be in a world without me that is,” Wu mutters.

Mako reaches to brush his hair to the side. 

“Sure scared me though. You should rest.”

“I’m just excited you’ve come to see me,” Wu admits. “Stay with me?”

Without hesitation, Mako squeezes himself onto the cot. “Of course. I’m here. I love you.”

Wu grins wide enough that it doesn’t really look comfortable. “Mako I -”

Wu breaks away to cough again. “I love you too, big guy.”

“I wonder, do you remember visiting me?” Mako murmurs, “Do you remember coming to me when you were unconscious? How did you do that?”

“Whaaat? I’m not exactly Mr. Spiritual Guru. How would I do that?” Wu adds, “Also, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Huh. Maybe I had cracked and hallucinated it.”

“Or, or, your spirit was the one reaching out and pulling me to you! Because we’re deeply connected.”

“Pfft. It was probably the spirit vines.”

“Yeah... probably.”

Wu cracks a yawn, and his eyelids droop. Mako kisses him on the forehead. His lip has a bad split, so this will do. Wu snuggles into him, and Mako knows the meaning of true peace.

[voiceless-terror]

Proficient in PowerPoint (The Magnus Archives)

Summary:

“Why are there so many animations?” Jon tapped his foot impatiently through the unnecessarily arduous process of getting to the next page. “I’m not a child. This is for Elias, not a primary school.”

“I thought they looked nice…” Martin said softly, shuffling his feet. “I can take them out, if you’d like-”

“They’re wonderful Martin, don’t listen to him."

Jon has to make a presentation for Elias. Sasha, Tim, and Martin help, with dubious results.

“It’s standard procedure, Jon. Every new department head does a presentation.”   “But I-” Jon left off with a sigh. Being called up to his boss’s office at the beginning of the day to be informed that he would be making a presentation to all of his intimidating colleagues (and superiors, if he were being honest) was not the way Jon wanted to start his Monday. Besides, what was he going to say? How could he explain this mess of an Archive that was currently under his command? That he didn’t really know what an Archivist did, and that when he googled the position it didn’t seem anything like what Elias had described? He might as well get in front of the room, announce his resignation and go home. Somedays this felt like the best course of action.

 He’d heard the whispers following the email announcing his promotion to Head Archivist.  “Him?”  was said more than once. A few scoffs, a few appraising eyes from the other department heads who were all at least a decade older than him. Even Sasha and Tim had given him a sort of silent treatment, only speaking to him in short sentences and one-word answers in the weeks that immediately followed.

Elias seemed to sense his unease. “It doesn’t have to be long. Just a rundown, a simple assessment of the Archives as they are and what you plan on implementing during your tenure. Perhaps a little about you and your team. Introduce yourself. Everyone’s eager to learn a bit more about you.” Jon very much doubted that.

 “Well the Archives, in my “assessment,” are currently a mess.” His candor was not appreciated. Elias was not amused.

 “A mess that you’re going to fix,” Elias gave him a withering glance. “I assumed you could handle this, but if that’s not the case-”

 “No, I-” He sighed again, the only sound he was capable of making. “Al-Alright. You said it was this Friday, correct?”

 “Yes!” Elias gave him a brief smile and ushered him out of the door with a hand on his shoulder, signaling the conversation was over. “Let me know if you have any issues. Not that you will, of course.”  Of course.

 The door shut behind him and Rosie gave him a sympathetic look from her seat. “You hang in there, alright? You’ll do just fine.” Either Jon looked that pathetic, or Rosie truly did eavesdrop on every conversation.

 Perhaps a bit of both.

��__________

 It was Wednesday evening and Jon was staring at a blank screen.

 Everyone else was packing up for the day while he sat in his chair, stewing over what words to write. He should be recording statements like Elias  wanted, not putting together some bureaucratic nonsense so the others could ‘get to know him and his plans.’ He didn’t really have a plan for the Archives besides digitization, and even that was going disastrously. Should he even mention the tapes? He’d likely be met with scorn and laughter. Elias may find them promising, but anyone who took one look at their equipment said otherwise. Google told him that he should share fun facts about the team but that seemed highly unprofessional. Who cared that he liked to watch documentaries in what little spare time he had? Instead, he’d written a very bare-bones outline of what he’d like to say but for some reason typing it out was impossible. The only thing he’d managed to get was a layout and font in neutral, unobtrusive colors. This was very important to him. 

 “Still stuck on the presentation, Jon?”

 Sasha was leaning against the doorway with a gentle smile on her face. She knew how hard it was for Jon to get his thoughts together sometimes and was always a sympathetic ear when it got particularly bad. She seemed to have finally settled into her role (whatever that may be) and was talking to him more and more. Though no one in the department had any experience in archiving, Sasha at least had more concrete ideas.

 “Yes, I’m just-” he sighed, taking his glasses off and rubbing his temples to ward off the approaching headache. “I’ve got no idea what he wants. What is a ‘rundown’ and how can I have one with the Archives like...this?” He gestured to his mess of an office, currently drowning in paper and cardboard boxes.

 “Well, what do you have so far?” Jon grimaced and handed over his notebook, filled with messy scribbles and half-finished ideas. Sasha skimmed it and made a few promising noises; Jon hated the part of himself that sought her approval. She finished and looked up with a grin. “How about you let me have a go at it? You know I love this sort of thing, and then you’ll have some time to record that statement tomorrow, hm?”

 “I-really? Would that be okay? I don’t want you to have to- I mean, it’s my job.”

 “I’m your assistant, Jon,” she interrupted with a placating hand. “So let me assist you!” Her offer seemed very genuine. Jon was loath to ask for help or admit to trouble even in the best of cases, but Sasha had a way of wearing him down with one well-placed smile. He decided to take the hand offered. 

 “Thank you, Sasha. Really.” He leaned back in his chair and gave her a grateful smile, glad for any progress made on the project.

 “And it’s no problem. Really.” She tucked his notebook into her bag and gave a cheerful nod.  “I’ll show you what we come up with!”

  ______

Jon yawned into his fist for the fourth time in an hour. The Amy Patel statement wouldn’t record on the computer so unfortunately he brought out the tape recorder. For some reason every time he recorded to tape he came away exhausted and anxious, unsettled by the words he spoke. Luckily he managed to get to the follow up recorded without too many interruptions- usually one of his assistants would come banging on the door and he’d be forced to start over for the sake of professionalism. 

 “Knock knock!” 

  Speak of the devil.  Tim grinned at him from the doorway, Martin standing close behind him.

 “Yes?” he asked shortly, straightening the files on his desk. “Do you need something?”

 “Your presentation, as requested!” Tim bestowed upon him a flash drive with much pomp and circumstance. “You’re welcome.”

 “Oh! Er, I thought I gave that to Sasha?” He looked in surprise at the device before him. He wasn’t expecting them to actually finish everything- he also wasn’t expecting anyone but Sasha to help him out. If Tim and Martin helped out as well... “I’ll uh, check it out in a few moments, thank you.

 “But I want to show you now, boss!” Tim’s voice reached the whiny pitch that he knew Jon loathed. He sighed however, and plugged it in. After a few moments a window popped open, with a file labeled  Jonny’s First Work Presentation.  He rolled his eyes while Tim snickered.  I’ll need to change that before the meeting…

 The file looked...hellish, to say the least. Jon spied on the first few slides a strange and ugly gradient background that faded from bright green to black, along with garish rainbow WordArt. He was almost afraid to click on anything, lest it blind him or inspire a seizure.

 “It’s really best viewed in slideshow mode,” Tim nudged Jon’s hand out of the way and made it so, the full screen now proudly showing the title page-  Jonathan Sims’ New and Improved Archives!!   Martin and Tim leaned in over his shoulder, the latter clearly excited to showcase his work.  That’s never good.

 “That’s far too many exclamation points, Tim.”

 “There are never enough exclamation points, Jon.”

 The next slide came in with a sort of shutter effect that did nothing to minimize the horrendous resizing done on the Magnus Institute logo, which had been stretched to fit almost the entire page and was unrecognizable due to pixilation. Jon gritted his teeth. “This is unnecessary.”

 “Wow, everyone’s a critic,” Tim rolled his eyes.

 “I-I can probably find a logo with better resolution,” Martin offered timidly. Jon had almost forgotten he was in the room. 

 The next pages were not much better- the Oxford English Dictionary’s definition of ‘archive,’ the audio pronunciation for it had a page to itself. There were several collages of books and artifacts (these looked handmade, as if someone had copy and pasted several finds from google images). Jon felt his anger grow with each laborious click. Was this someone’s idea of a joke? Where was Sasha? “Is there anything of actual substance in this?” he asked, huffing as the current slide disintegrated out of view in a dramatic fashion.

 “God, so impatient! We’re building up to it.” A few more clicks. They got to a page covered with cartoon ghosts and nothing else. “Watch this!” With a click the ghosts all flew away, a clunky piece of animation that revealed  Jonathan Sims’ Plan of ATTACK!!

 “I did that one,” Martin announced in his ear with not a little pride.

 The ‘plan of attack’ included bullet points (which were also little ghosts) regarding the new digitization and accessibility project in clear, cogent prose which must have been the work of Sasha. The rest, however- random paragraphs about ‘synergy’ and ‘dynamic team players’- was clearly unsalvageable and designed to make him the laughing stock of the institute. 

 “I can’t...this is unusable, Tim!”

 “Keep reading! There’s good content there. God, there’s no accounting for taste these days, is there Martin?” Martin did not answer. What could Martin have said? Each page was worse than the last- the current slide had only a picture of what looked to be an ancient Egyptian scroll and nothing else.

 “This is the definition of unusable.”

 “No it’s not!” Tim argued though he was on the verge of laughter. He was smiling, clearly enjoying the entire scenario. “Look, I even put a ‘Meet the Team’ section-” He clicked through the slides, each piece of text gliding across the screen in an obnoxious star pattern. 

 “Why are there so many animations?” Jon tapped his foot impatiently through the unnecessarily arduous process of getting to the next page. “I’m not a child. This is for Elias, not a primary school.”

 “I thought they looked nice…” Martin said softly, shuffling his feet. “I can take them out, if you’d like-”

 “They’re wonderful Martin, don’t listen to him,” Tim had finally reached the first slide of his ‘Meet the Team’ section. Instead of starting with Jon it began with an incredibly large photo of Tim, smiling and winking at the camera.  Naturally.

 “Tim Stoker: A Gentleman and a Scholar,” Jon read aloud. “I’m not saying that. And shouldn’t we be starting with me? I ask for one thing-”

 “I saved the best for last, of course! Martin, you’ll  love this,” Tim began frantically clicking through animations, taking a full minute to get to Jon’s slide. “Ta-da!”

  Jonathan Sims: The Man, the Myth, the Legendary Archivist

 It was a picture of Jon from a happy hour years ago, smiling broadly with half-lidded eyes and sprawled across the bar in a state of disarray. He had a vague memory of Sasha snapping the photo before he fell to the ground and vomited everything he drank.  No no no no  - he attempted to slam down the laptop screen before Martin could see but the damage was done. The man was red and stuttering, clearly embarrassed for Jon. He took a deep breath, attempting to calm down. He contemplated his options- double homicide or self-immolation. Both seemed equally appealing in the moment. 

 “Please leave,” he fumed, his own face a tomato red as he stared at the floor. “Now.”

 “Aw boss, don’t be like that-”

  “Now!”  Two sets of footsteps scurried from the room as Jon threw his head into his hands.

 He had quite a bit of work to do.

 _____________

 Of course he scrapped almost all of it, keeping only the informative parts that Sasha had written.  This is why you should do things yourself. ‘Assist’ my ass. 

 Jon had kept the door closed for the rest of the afternoon, ignoring both the plaintive apologies from Tim and Martin and Sasha’s insistent knocking. He wanted to blame her for letting the other two get involved, wanted to yell and stamp and maybe throw a thing or two. But it was  his  job. He shouldn’t have left it all to them.  Lazy, incompetent, his mind raged but the words were aimed at himself. Perhaps that’s why they sabotaged the slideshow, to tell him they weren’t going to do his dirty work. Hazing the new boss.  Did they realize how important this was to him? Did they even care? He already looked like a fool- why not double down on it?

 He took the ‘Meet the Team’ page down, his fingers angrily punched the ‘delete’ key for every picture and turned it into one slide with only their names and positions.  That’s all they need to know, really.  He managed to throw together a few slides on a new organizational system and something about research follow up, but it all rang false and hollow- any academic would see right through this bullshit attempt. Even the digitization slides seemed trite- why was this his first order of business?  What the hell are you doing?

 It was late into the night when he finally finished, though the presentation was nowhere near what he wanted it to be. The clock informed him it was only ten though, so he still had some time before the last train. He was just going to rest his eyes for a minute and then he’d get up and go.  Just a minute...

  ____________

And then it was tomorrow.

 Fuck.  Fuck! 

 Jon woke up with his head pillowed in his arms and his back almost completely immobile. He squinted at the clock-  7:00 AM. He tripped down the hallway and into the bathroom to freshen up, splashing cold water on his face and cursing under his breath. How embarrassing to be caught in yesterday’s clothes- if he switched out his sweater vest for a blazer, they might not notice. His wardrobe was nothing if not consistent and boring. His hair tamed into some semblance of neatness, Jon went on to his next stop, the break room for a cup of coffee and then finally, back to his office to survey the finished product and perhaps do a few run-throughs.

 He settled in his seat and pressed the power button to coax his laptop out of sleep. The clock on the wall ticked a steady, droning rhythm that somewhat calmed his racing heart and he took a sip of coffee, savoring the bitter flavor. His eyes flickered down to the screen- still black. He pressed it again. Nothing. He looked to the side of the computer, noticing the lack of power cord.  Oh, it’s not plugged in. That’ll do it. He solved that problem quickly and tried again.  

 Again, nothing. He pushed it harder, hurting his finger with the intensity behind it. The screen remained black.

 It was then that Jonathan Sims screamed.

 _____________

It was nine in the morning and he still had no idea what to do. No amount of coaxing, either through nice words or obscenities had managed to wake it up. He removed the battery and put it back in. He prayed to several gods, none of which he believed in. He kicked the desk and promptly fell to the ground, screaming in pain. IT didn’t come in until ten, and his meeting was at nine-thirty. He was well and truly fucked.

 But then he heard footsteps coming down the hall and he dashed to meet them, hoping it was the person he needed. And it was.

 “Sasha!” he panted, taking in heaving, gulping breaths. “Help!”

 “Oh God Jon, is this one of your asthma attacks? Do you have your inhaler?” Her eyes widened and her hands fluttered nervously. ‘I’ve told you-”

 “No,” he grabbed her by the shoulders, feeling more unhinged by the moment. “I-I lost it. The PowerPoint. My laptop won’t turn on, and-”

 “Breathe, Jon! That’s no trouble at all. I can get into your drive, no worries!” she said, pushing him into a chair and booting up her laptop. Jon put a hand to his chest, attempting to follow her advice.  See, it’s fine!  “Where did you save it? On your ShareDrive or on the general Archives one? I’ll need your credentials if it’s the former.”

 His heart dropped.  No no no no. He’d done the one thing Sasha had always warned him against.  “I-I saved it to the desktop…”

 “Oh Jon.”

 And that's when he spiraled. He was going to have to walk into that meeting, hands empty, and face the firing squad. Elias will know he should have never hired him and everyone there will nod and agree that the stupid boy who couldn’t do one simple task does not belong at the table with the rest of him and Jon will be sent on his way, back to research if he’s lucky or fired if he’s not and he can’t do one fucking thing right-

 “Jon. Jon!”  Sasha had a hand on his shoulder, firm and grounding. “Fucking  breathe. It’s fine, you’re fine! Here.” She slipped the flash drive from yesterday into his hand and he groaned, attempting to pass it back

 “I can’t use that one, you know I can’t-”

 “No, this one’s different, I promise,” She grabbed his chin, forcing him to meet her eyes. “I tried to tell you yesterday- I’m sorry about all of that. It wasn’t funny. We fixed it.” She seemed honest, sincere. But Jon was still hesitant, taking in shaking breaths.

 “This isn’t a joke?”

 “I swear. Here, use my laptop.” She passed it over and Jon paused, considering his options, which were few.

 So Jon took the flash drive and laptop and left, ignoring Martin’s greetings as he brushed by him on his way up to the conference room.  Here goes.

 _____________

 “Erm, h-hello,” Jon coughed, clearing his throat. “I’m Jonathan Sims, the new Head Archivist, as Elias...already said, I guess.” He let out a nervous laugh which no one returned. Elias nodded, urging him to go on.

 Jon had made his way to the room with fifteen minutes to spare, giving him some time to boot up the computer and load the presentation. A quick, nervous glance let him know that it was much changed- at least the first few slides. He shook hands with each department head as they came in, trying to see which of their smiles and congratulations were sincere. The answer? Very few. This was not comforting. 

 His hands shook as he clicked his way to the first slide, his heart pounded in his chest to reveal-

  Bringing the Archives into the 21st Century- A Plan for Updating and Digitizing the Institute's Statements

  Well that’s not bad at all.

 He began to speak, his voice gaining clarity and confidence with every sentence. The presentation was lovely- incorporating his preferred neutral color scheme, a great improvement on the nauseating colors of before. The animations were minimal and sleek, making the transitions meld seamlessly from slide to slide. There was a bit introducing Gertrude’s past work and a dig at her filing system that earned him a laugh. There were new slides regarding the preservation of documents, a new organizational structure, the introduction of a database. All ideas they’d briefly spoken about before committing themselves fully to the digitization process as Elias instructed. Everything was written in his favored academic tone- so natural that Jon found himself speaking extemporaneously on the slides he felt more comfortable with. It was all met with approving nods and a studious gaze from Elias that Jon couldn’t parse. There was also no mention of the tapes.

 The dreaded ‘Meet the Team’ section had been heavily reworked- each one of them had the headshot from their IDs (poor Martin had his eyes closed) and a mention of which department they’d transferred from, along with their credentials. It was professional and informative, everything Jon had wanted it to be. Sasha had outdone herself.  Sasha should be the one making this presentation. 

 He tried to ignore the guilt settling in his chest, even as he smiled back at the approval from the academics he so desperately craved. He clicked to the last slide, which had their contact information and-  oh. It was a picture taken from his birthday a few weeks back, where they all looked fairly presentable and were smiling, no idea of the task ahead of them. Elias was there too; Rosie had taken the picture at Tim’s insistence. His audience tittered, though it seemed to be in good humor rather than mocking.

 “Ah, yes. Th-Thank you for your time.” He quickly turned it off and stared at the ground, his face warm with both embarrassment and a creeping sense of belonging that he didn’t know what to do with. He was startled when a small round of applause began and he looked up with wide eyes to find a smiling audience. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Elias nod and smile as well and he finally felt the sense of accomplishment he’d longed for since the start of his promotion.  

 The room cleared rather quickly (no one really wanted to be in a Friday meeting, after all) but Jon was stopped by a tall, smiling woman he had only seen in passing. “Sonya from Artefact Storage,” she reminded him, shaking his hand again and giving him a warm smile. “I’m looking forward to talking to you more about that database. I was always telling Gertrude she needed one, but of course she never listened to me. Stubborn to the end!” He could only stutter, too overwhelmed to formulate a proper response. A hand reached out to his shoulder.

 “That was nicely done, Archivist.” For some reason the title made Jon feel odd, like he was having an honor bestowed that he had not yet earned. Elias wasn’t that much taller than him, but he always seemed to loom over Jon. “Quite the presentation. Lots of...ideas. But I must stress the importance of getting the statements-”

 “On tape, yes, yes,” Jon said, quick to agree. “I just thought, er- I should let them know some of our other objectives, as well?”  Seems like Sasha wanted to, at least.

 “As long as you don’t forget yours,” A pointed glance. Jon gulped nervously, shoving a hand in his pocket. “Still, a good job all around. That Sasha of yours seems like a good asset. Enjoy your weekend.”

 Jon froze in the doorway. Did he know?  Of course not, don’t be silly.  He shook his head and left the room. Well, at least that’s over with.

 ____________

 “Did it go alright?” Sasha asked immediately upon his entrance. He managed a self-deprecating smile. 

 “Surprisingly, yes. That was-  thank you, I guess.”

 “No trouble at all,” Tim jumped out from the break room, throwing an arm around his shoulder. “Always knew you had it in you. A consummate performer, I was telling our Martin-”

  “Tim!”  He scowled and tried in vain to shove him away, still irritated by his presence.

 “Seriously, though. Sorry about all of that before. Just trying to lighten the mood, I swear we wouldn’t have actually left you with that-”

 “It’s- It’s fine,” Jon sighed, reluctantly giving in to Tim’s insistent affection. “Well, not really, but it turned out alright in the end.” Sasha gave an encouraging grin.

 “Did you like the photo?” Martin asked anxiously, hovering in the corner of the room. Jon paused. He considered telling him no, that he would have never put it in there himself and considered it rather unprofessional on the whole, but one look at Martin’s face told him that was the wrong move.

 “Yes, Martin,” he said, summoning up the equivalent of a smile. “I liked the photo.”

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27142390

[marshmallow-phd]

The Anormic

Part of The Experiments Universe

Genre: Lucky One/Obsession AU

Pairing: Kris x Reader

Summary: You were everything he needed to feel human. But not even your presence could keep the nightmares away. The years had gone by and it seemed his dreams were all that was left of his trauma. When his past comes back and snatches you away, the human mask he’d worked so hard to create will be ripped away and he’ll stop at nothing to get you back.

Part: 1 I 2 I 3

**

Kris lifted the glass to his lips, letting the harsh alcohol slide down and sting the soft tissue of his throat. Emotional pop music blared from the worn out speakers hanging from various places on the walls. Bungie cables held the heavier boxes in place, wrapped tightly around the frame to keep them from crashing to the floor. He felt pathetic, sitting there on that bar stool, sipping on drinks that did nothing to cure him of his nightmares. Every time he closed his eyes and let his mind wander, he saw the doctors hovering over him, with their needles and toxins and tests. It seemed no matter how far he ran, he couldn’t escape the memories.

“Another one?” the pretty bartender offered. She smiled at him flirtatiously. A curtain of black hair hung from either side of her angular face, landing near the crooks of her elbows, and dark eyes shined under the low lighting. She probably saw his kind all the time. The burdened who thought they could fix whatever was broken in them with a strong drink. But this was only a band aide. His real medicine was elsewhere.

“No, thank you.” Kris pulled his wallet out of his pocket, threw down a bill, and stood up. “Keep the change.”

Disappointed, the bartender took the cash and rang it into the register.

It wasn’t hard to flag down a cab and give the driver his address. At this time of night, they flocked to the bar district, eager to pick up as many intoxicated passengers as they could before the parting ending for the night. Within fifteen minutes he was home. Outside, he looked up at the commonplace building, insignificant brick that blended in with the rest of the street. The apartment wasn’t anything fancy or luxurious, but it was enough. It was better than some. More than what he used to have.

All the lights were out when he stepped through the door. The only sound came from the air conditioner humming as it did its job. Tossing his keys down on the table, he shuffled his way through the dark until he made it to the bedroom. He closed the door as softly as he could before sitting on the edge of the bed and taking off his shoes. The world felt heavy on his shoulders. He was lost, feeling like he should be doing more with his life, but he didn’t know what it could be.

“Kris?”

Sighing, he turned to look over his shoulder.

You sat up and rubbed your eyes so they’d adjust to the darkness. The blankets fell down to your lap and exposed you to the cold given the camisole top you’d warn to bed. Shuffling closer to him, you rested your chin on his shoulder, rubbing his arm comfortingly. “It’s late.”

“I know,” Kris sighed.

He wasn’t even sure why he stayed away, why he went on these excursions as if he’d find the answer to his life out there. As soon as he came back here to your arms, he felt better. Like a warm fire in the middle of a harsh winter, you comforted him, thawed what had once been left for dead. No matter what he did you were there for him to fall into. You made him smile when happiness felt out of reach and your touch grounded him. There was only one problem with this perfect life with you. You thought he was normal.

As far as you were concerned, he was an orphan who grew up in a home and then went out on his own. He wasn’t rich or stable or open, but you stayed around anyway. There were times you’d ask about his past, a detail or moment you were curious about. Kris had mastered the ability to dodge such questions or give a vague enough answer that it wouldn’t technically be a lie. So many times he thought about telling you the truth. About sitting you down and explaining how he wasn’t entirely human, about how his nightmares weren’t random or forgettable. But he could never do it. He was too afraid of losing you.

“Everything okay?” you asked softly.

Kris nodded, not trusting his voice. It didn’t matter. You still didn’t believe him. Perhaps that was your own superpower, the ability to hear a lie, even the silent kind. Shoving the blanket off your lap, you threw a leg over his lap so you were now facing each other, your fingers interlocked behind his neck.

“What’s going on? Please, tell me. I want to help.”

Kris sighed. He hated seeing you frown like that. “It’s nothing you can help with. Just… thoughts in my head.”

“What kind of thoughts?”

“Nothing bad,” he insisted. “I’ve just been thinking about… the orphanage. My past. Wondering where I’m supposed to be going. It seems all I can do is look back when I’m trying to go forward.”

“Well,” your frown morph into a small smile as you played with the hair at the nape of his neck, “I don’t know if I want you to go somewhere. I kind of like you here.”

That made him laugh, just once. “I wouldn’t go anywhere without you.”

“Good.” You pressed your lips to his, sealing that promise. Kris wrapped his arms around your waist and shifted so you were now lying back down on the bed. He hovered over you, taking in every feature he could, from the shape of your nose to the outline of your lips. The way your eyes were filled with so many words when you looked at him would be burned in his memory forever.

“I love you, (y/n),” he whispered.

“I love you, too.”

And with your soft kisses and warm touch, he found himself forgetting about his worries. Finding you after wandering for so long was the small light in his life. What good thing had he done to deserve you?

Whatever it was, he was thankful. Oh, so thankful.

**

The sun trickled in from between the blinds, oh-so kindly beaming on your face to pull you from the wonderful land of sleep. As your consciousness came to the surface, you groaned. Why must the morning always come? You like the night, the cover the darkness gave. It lingered on the feeling of anything could happen. When the morning came, the desired mystery ran for the shadows to bring back the average, the dull.

A hand instinctively reached out to the space beside you. Upon feeling the cold sheets, you opened your eyes and sat up. You frowned. Any normal morning, you would be the first one awake and struggling to coax Kris out of the bed to get started on the day. But today brought you the surprise of an empty bed. You worried that Kris hadn’t slept at all. Climbing out of bed and stealing one of his jackets to fend off the cold air, you shuffled out into the living room. The smell of breakfast filtered in through your nose.

“You’re… cooking?”

The giggles couldn’t be held back. You were too astonished. Of his many talents, putting together an edible meal wasn’t exactly one of them. Barely glancing over his shoulder at you, Kris said, “I wanted something specific today.”

“You could have just asked. I would have made it.”

“You looked like you needed the sleep.”

That was a lie. If anyone needed sleep, it was him. But you let him stick to that story – this time. The sudden urge to be close to him pulled you into the kitchen where you wrapped your arms around his torso and laid your head against his back. His skin was warm, the steady pulse of his heartbeat reminding you that he was indeed real and not simply a figment of your imagination, a perfect daydream made up to shine up your dull life. The day you met Kris hadn’t been the greatest of your life, but each day after… you called them your little miracles.

With you still attached to him like an overgrown child, he reached up and took two plates out of the cabinet. Filling them up with the mouthwatering (albeit slightly burnt) food, you finally let go and gave the poor guy room to move over to the table that doubled as your studying space. Kris started to move the small cardboard boxes that currently occupied the table, but one of the lids began to slip, you jumped in and took it to the living room. The last thing you needed right now was for him to see what that particular box contained.

“Everything alright?” Kris asked, confused at your slightly frantic manner.

“Yeah,” you slapped on a smile, playing the part of innocence. “These are just old cases for my research project. I’m supposed to be careful with them.”

Kris took you at your word. “How’s that coming?”

“Pretty good. I’m about halfway through it.”

School had never been easy for you. Over the years, you’d lost count over the amount of times you’d started and stopped, never sure of what direction you wanted to go in. You were jealous of the others on campus, so sure of what career they were going to pursue, what major they were focused on. You never had such direction. Since you were young, you’d always had an interest in law and seeking the truth, but you neither wanted to be a lawyer or a detective. It wasn’t until right before you met Kris almost two years ago that you figured it out from a TV show. One of the characters on the drama worked for a law firm, fact checking and tracking down leads that might help the client in court. After researching and learning that, in fact, such a job did exist, you’d realized you’d found your calling. A way to satisfy your constant curiosity and help those who might not be able to help themselves. Funny how the good things came to you almost all at once.

Shaking his head, Kris blew out a long breath from between his lips, scoffing at the end like a period to his wordless sentence. “I don’t know how you do it.”

You moved the last of the boxes, careful to pile the rest so the first wasn’t easily accessible. “Do what?”

“Everything. Your classes, your papers, the internship.”

You shrugged. “It’s all just to get me where I’m going. You could do it, too, if you wanted to.”

Kris shook his head again. “No, you’re the ambitious one in this relationship. You’ve always been smarter than me.”

Feeling mischievous, you walked over and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Oh, hun, you don’t make it that hard.” Big mistake. Kris gaped at you, clearly offended. Then he puffed himself up and you knew you were in for it. “No, no, I was just kidding! I’m sorry!” Too late. You ran from the kitchen, hurrying to get to the bedroom and shut the door, but you were too slow. Pick you up, Kris jumped onto the bed with you in his arms. You wiggled and fought to get out of his grip, but he was too strong so all you could was laugh. His own deep chuckle rumbled in your ear as he tortuously tickled your sides.

“Do you give?” he asked, pausing but still not letting go.

After regaining your breath, you pushed out a “Yes, I give!”

He kissed your lips. “Good. Now, come on. I don’t want to eat cold food.” You stuck your tongue out at him in response, but let him hold your hand as he pulled you to your feet and back to the table. Perhaps mornings weren’t so bad after all.

**

Kris was sore when he walked through the front entrance. It’d been a long day out at the farm he worked on and he was ready to relax the night away with you, but there was something he had to do first. He was back at the bar, but this time it wasn’t to drown his sorrows alone. Waiting at a high-top was a tanned skin, platinum blond glued to the phone in their hands.

“You’re going to ruin your eyes if you keep staring at it,” Kris teased as he sat down.

Tao scoffed. “If a bullet can’t kill us then I hardly doubt some blue light will hurt our eyes.” The punk was probably right. Modern concerns like that were hardly on their list of worries. Putting the phone off to the side, Tao narrowed his eyes. “Are you still not sleeping?”

“I was, a bit,” Kris corrected. “But lately… not so much.”

“Have you talked to (y/n) about it?”

Before he could answer, a waiter came over to check on the two of them. They ordered drinks and Tao threw in some sort of appetizer platter. Kris had hoped the conversation would naturally turn in another direction, but he was let down. Tao was not going to let his worry over his closest friend go.

“Have you said anything to her?”

“No, I haven’t.” He almost did this morning. While you sat across from him at the table, he could tell that you were holding back, wanting to question how he was up before you when most days he didn’t want to leave the covers. Even after being with you, feeling you breath evenly beside him, he couldn’t get his mind to turn off. He couldn’t relax. It felt as if his body was preparing for something – something bad. He opened his mouth several times to start that conversation, but other words came out instead. “Do you ever wonder if it’s really over?”

What he had expected was reassurance. For Tao to laugh it off and tell him to quit stressing over what didn’t matter. It had been years since they escaped, years since they ended it. Now, they could be like everyone else, at least on the surface. But that wasn’t what he received.

Tao frowned, his eyes lowering to the table between them. “I feel like something’s coming. I don’t know what, but… there might be a reason to be wondering that.”

Swallowing thickly, Kris replied, “Have you seen anything?”

“No,” Tao admitted. “I haven’t. But I can’t make the feeling go away.”

“Damn it!” Kris slammed his fist on the table with enough force to tip over the plastic cup of water that sat on the edge. Before it could tip over completely, everything around them froze. Only Tao and Kris were mobile as the former caught the glass while it hovered in the air and placed it back on the table. Time resumed once again. Kris raised an eyebrow. “You’re getting better at that.”

“I’ve been practicing,” Tao smirked. “You?”

“No. I don’t use that… gift, just in case I get caught.” Especially by you.

Tao rolled his eyes. “You’re going to have to tell her someday, you know that right? Stuff like this doesn’t stay a secret forever.”

“I can at least try.”

Seeing the lack of progress this conversation was having, Tao changed the subject. He filled Kris in on all the places he’d gone, his favorite being an island in the south pacific. Paradise, he called it over and over again. Kris filed that information away for later. Perhaps when you were done with the semester, he could take you there. The two of you could get away for a little while, pretend this city didn’t exist and simply be with each other.

 Normally when Kris came home you were either studying away in the living room with your textbooks and notes spread out all over the floor or you were cooking dinner with your favorite songs blaring from your phone’s small speaker on the counter. But he was greeted by neither scenario as he stepped through the door.

All was quiet in the apartment. Too quiet for you to be home. Thinking maybe he’d missed a call or text, he checked his phone, but there was nothing. Odd. You never did that. A cold sweat emerged from his very pores.

“(y/n)? (y/n)?”

No answer.

He flipped on the lights and fell to his knees.

The place was a disaster, signs of a fight around every corner. The bookcase was overturned, the glass coffee table that you were so proud of was smashed to pieces, and so much more was in utter chaos. His heart raced when he saw the blood. There were only small traces, but he still knew that you’d been hurt. Running through the rest of the apartment, he searched for any clue as to what had happened or who might have taken you. Just when he was about to dial the police, he saw it.

It was too perfectly placed for it to be an accident. Whether you were the one who left it or your kidnapper had put it there to taunt him, he wasn’t sure, but it gave him a place to start.

Lying on the floor of the bedroom was a piece of black cloth with ripped, frayed edges. The emblem stitched into the cloth was one he knew too well when he was undercover in EXO. It was the symbol for Regeneration Science, a red R & S intertwined in a sinister, almost snake-like way. Or maybe it was just Kris’ experience that made him see it in that light. Right now that didn’t matter. Right now, he needed to find out why they took you. Why, after all these years, were they coming after him again? They’d destroyed the research and files EXO had on all of them and Moo San was dead.

Fury pulse through Kris. The only danger he’d ever considered you to be in was from himself, not his past. It was supposed to be over.

Kris flipped. Fear was gone and in its place nothing but determination. Shoving the emblem into his pocket, he started making his way around the apartment. In a few spots around the bedroom, he’d hidden various weapons in places he knew you wouldn’t find. They were for emergencies. In the back of his mind, he must have known that this would happen. Tao was right, something bad had come. And now you were in the middle of it. His anger surging, he threw whatever clothes his hands landed on in a duffel bag, his wallet, a few toiletries, along with other necessities. As he made one last trip to the bathroom, something crinkled under his foot.

The cracks that formed in his heart were nearly audible as he crouched down and picked up the rounded piece of metal that had fallen on the floor. In the palm of his hand was the charm from the necklace he’d surprised you with on your one year anniversary. It was a small bird with wings that would never have been big enough to carry them through the air. Wrapping the charm in his fist, Kris closed his eyes and kissed his fingers. Then he snapped them back open.

They would regret this. They would regret coming after him, they would regret taking you away from him. If you were hurt in anyway, they would pay. He would make sure of it.

Throwing the bag over his shoulder, he flipped off the lights and left the apartment, refusing to come back until he was with you again.

Hold on, (y/n). I’m coming for you.

[thatoneuserswritingblog]

Part one of Projecting onto Genesis because I can

------

This series is just me projecting onto Genesis and saying he has adhd bc I said so, and thank you to the wonderful Beth and two friends who know nothing about FFVII for reading this over for me <3

And for the sake of my own sanity I'm pretending that the deserion never happened, again bc I said so.

AO3 link:

Story under the cut :]

Behaviour 1

When first meeting Genesis you would assume he was just some kid that registered for Soldier, has a love for the poem Loveless that can't be rivaled by anyone and an uncontrollable rage.

From an outside perspective of Genesis you would most likely have seen what he was always described as by others, though from the quick glances in the halls or overheard conversations you could usually bet on the red head to be ranting to his friend about Loveless, or one thing and another. Though he always appeared fixated on the poem he held with such high regards.

When Sephiroth became something akin to a friend to Angeal and Genesis he heard the poem even more, it was endless ranting and raving with quoting it thrown into the mix. But it gave Genesis a flavor to him that just made him feel distinct from many others. And this friendship would stick around and bloom later into the future.

Behaviour 2

Being in a friendlier position with the two gave Sephiroth an odd bonding experience, Angeal seemed similar to many others, or in the way he did certain things, usually just the finer details. Genesis however was a melting pot of experiences, bonding with him was more sharing things that he enjoyed with such intensity you might as well be intimidated just a little.

Among that he always seemed to be moving in some way, if it was fidgeting with something he had in his hands, drumming his fingers against the table, and readjusting in his seat almost constantly. Though there were times where he was uncharacteristically quiet and spaced out, those were the times where he or Angeal had to nudge him back to reality every now and again. It was a surprise he hadn't been kicked from the program before from what Sephiroth was observing.

Behavior 3

To Sephiroth and anyone not by the name of Angeal Hewley, would have found it concerning how much coffee Genesis drank sometimes, it was in an irregular pattern but it did happen every now and then.

Though he did see a slight difference in behaviour, when the coffee consumption was at a relatively regular level Genesis always seemed more aware and less spacey in a way. As if everything was just less organized than usual.

Behaviour 4

Being at company gatherings had always been quite boring, there was never much going on other than keeping the upper plate important people happy with Shinra.

Though it was always at these kinds of gatherings where Genesis seemed uncomfortable in more ways than one, seemingly sticking to Angeal or Sephiroth for as long as he could. He did appear just as confident as usual, if not a bit more.

At the end of it he seemed to practically dash out the doors and back to his apartment at the Shinra tower and that was practically the last he saw of him for the night.

Behaviour 5

To no one's surprise Genesis had gotten both Angeal and Sephiroth to go to an orchestration of the music used in the Loveless productions. The experience had been quite pleasant, Genesis seemed to be almost vibrating in excitement where he stood.

When they entered the music hall the orchestration was to be in and got to the seats in the Shinra owned box, they waited for the concert to start. When it did Genesis gave the most excited applause for the orchestra when they entered the stage, shuffling in his seat occasionally as per usual.

Sephiroth appreciated the music, it was quite wonderful, though he couldn't help but notice the slight discomfort on Genesis's face in the louder parts of the piece. By the end of it Genesis looked like was about to be as excitable as Angeal's puppy was on a daily basis, he couldn't help but smile at his friend.

When they got out of the box to leave and go back to the Shinra tower Sephiroth took notice of a similar face of discomfort, it felt odd to him, it might just be the change in noise levels and bigger crowd, though it felt like a reach to him.

Angeal patted Genesis's shoulder and whispered something in his ear, which made the latter respond by lightly headbutting the former's shoulder.

The Explanation

It had been a relatively quiet evening of reading when there came a knock on Sephiroth's door, standing up and putting the book away on the coffee table he went and answered the door, seeing Angeal standing there. "Hello there Angeal" he stepped aside, letting his friend step inside.

"Hello to you too Sephiroth, I was wondering, could you possibly do me a favor?" this caught Sephiroth slightly off guard, as it was not often that Angeal asked for favors.

"I should be able to, depending on what it is. Why?" he looked at his friend with a questionng look.

"It's quite simple, I'll be gone for a while on a mission soon and I just need you to send a message to Gen every morning until I get back to remind him of the thing." he said simply.

"What 'thing' am I reminding him of?" he gave Angeal a perplexed look.

Angeal hummed in thought and then said "It's not really my place to go saying what it is, but if you need to know I'd go to Genesis if I were you."

"I might just do that if you won't give me the answer, if it's not something bad then I'll be sure to remind him."

"That's understandable, thank you." Angeal gave him a nod as a moved to leave the doorway to go back to his apartment.

The choice to go see Genesis had been made after some thought, leaving his apartment walking with even strides was spent thinking what this 'thing' that Angeal wouldn't clarify on.

Knocking on Genesis's apartment and hear a fumbling over something as the owner of the apartment opened the door. "Why hello there Sephiroth, didn't expect to see you, what brings you here?" he seemed focused on looking anywhere but Sephiroth's eyes.

"Angeal asked me to do something and he wouldn't explain it to me, so I must ask. When he asks me to remind you of 'the thing' what is it that I'm reminding you of?" He gave Genesis a raised eyebrow as he spoke.

This had caught said person off guard, as he beckoned Sephiroth inside, he curiously followed, wondering what was so important, ot secret, that it needed to be discussed in private. Away from the possibly peering eyes of the halls.

"I- uhm, it's uhh, yknow what, it'll be easier to explain if I just show you, hold on for a moment." Seeing Genesis stutter over his words so much was an odd sight to see as the door was closed and soon he dashed off to the hall of his apartment.

Returning soon he held up a small case of medication labeled after the days of the week, all of them seemingly having the same contents, though the days before the present were empty.

"And these are?" He gave Genesis a questioning look, wanting a slightly more indept explenation.

Even with his enhanced hearing he could only hear Genesis's mumbled response, the few words he heard were "they're --- meds, --- need 'em --- better than --- without ---."

"Could you possibly repeat that? I won't judge you, I just want to know what I'm supposed to be reminding you to do and how important it is." He said in a warmer tone.

"I- uhm, it's perscribed and I-uh, really need them" followed by some uncharacteristic stuttering as all eye contact was avoided.

"That's a good enough explenation for now, if you feel more comfortable with telling me some time later I'll be all ears, have a good evening Genesis." He gave him a small smile.

"Oh, uh alright then, good night Seph." He gave his friend a small wave as he left the apartment.