#it just needs some proof he's alive at the end slapping on it

[lenle-g]

iconic, thankyou 2015 Len

[judasgot-it]

Soulmate AU

"I can't believe you said that. You know that's going to be on my chest for the rest of my life now, right?"

Scenario: You and your soulmate meet. It's hard convincing yourselves that it's a good thing.

I'm timeskipping a bit, think of this as a sort of slowburn lol.

8,700 k words (jesus crhist)

Every person had spots on their body that marked the things that showed what their soulmate did that day.

Typically, they appeared at the age of five. Usually, they would be words and sentences, or pictures, sometimes depicting ideas. It was representative of what their soulmate was like - sometimes they were in different languages, or had patterns that only their soulmate could discern.

There was always one mark that would appear, and stay on the body for what was usually for the rest of someone's life. Sometimes small, sometimes big.

Some people were born with theirs. Others had theirs appear at the end of their life. They were rather random, it seemed.

Yours was strange. It wasn't a picture, and it wasn't a poem. It wasn't a sentence, and it wasn't anything compared to your family or classmates. When you were twelve, you had gained a large pattern on your back - something that if you reached around, you could feel mostly with your fingers.

If you squinted, you could maybe see it, but it seemed invisible.

Your mother had told you that it was almost like a scar, but it wasn't ugly. There was a pattern, but no one seemed to really know what it meant.

It was hard to really know what it was from looking at it in the mirror. To you, it looked like just a splattering of lighter and darker skin, now slightly raised in some areas. It was only visible in the light, and looked like you had splashed bleach on your skin.

All you knew was that it hadn't gone away in weeks. The doctor had said that it was most likely one of those marks that lived forever, and was possibly a sign that your soulmate was blind. Either that or some sort of fucked up artist.

It had left you angry for months. You didn't know why, but it upset you - maybe because you had expected a poem that would tell you how much you were adored, like your friend had. Or cute portrait, of some beautiful vacation spot.

You still wanted to dream. But instead, you got something had you scratching your back like a madman, trying to understand something that you couldn't. It left you impatient, trying to understand a puzzle that apparently, only a blind man or an asshole could solve.

Maybe both.

When you met your soulmate, you were going to slap the shit out of him.

-

At sixteen, you had debated on whether or not your soulmate was worth 'waiting for' or 'finding'. There was a big debate going on for decades anyway - was it worth falling in love with your soulmate?

Part of you wanted to try falling in love with someone else. Maybe it was because you had seen soulmates who hated each other - they had words permanently etched onto their bodies that said:

"I hate you" and "I hope that you die"

Seemed like proof enough that it was fake.

Your own soulmate seemed less like a real concept, and more like a cloud in the sky. There were never pictures of his day, or that many words to hear about. It was only feelings - there were cuts that had showed up along your skin, long lines that were in concerning places.

Once you had one show up along your chest, underneath your breast. You weren't sure if it would work, but you had written "Stay alive" and hoped it would show up along his skin. You wrote it in Sharpie and kept it there for days, just in case he needed the reminder.

He never seemed to have any words back. The only words you ever read on your skin were concerning. Once, words had shown up along your arm, written in a messy cursive, almost impossible to read:

"Go ahead and kill yourself. I don't need you anyway."

That started to convince you that your soulmate might have deserved the knife in the chest.

Despite this, you could never bring yourself to go past a second date. None of the guys who asked you out seemed to really 'click' in the way you really thought you would.

One of them was so bad, you had taken the Sharpie out and had added "I love you" close to where you remember adding the line.

If your soulmate really was blind, it was most likely a stupid thing to write - if it even showed up. But it made you feel better in the moment, so what was the harm?

-

When you were in your 20s, you had graduated university.

You didn't know what your soulmate was doing, but you had started to care less than you did when you were younger.

Before, it tore at you - there were a lot of dreams and ideas you had of what he was like, and what it would be like when you finally met the one person made for you.

Over time, you learned to accept that there was a chance you might not ever meet him. You knew people like that - those whose soulmates died, and those who never had them. Those who had met them late in life, and were still living good lives.

You had become content. In a way, your life had become better, knowing that you didn't need someone else there in order to live your own life.

There were friends you had. And you had an apartment. And now, you had a new job, one that was respectable and you had worked hard for. Life was looking up.

Part of you was convinced that your soulmate was either dead or still living a life that would lead to it. The marks that showed up were the same as when you were sixteen - they were lesser than before, but they were still scary when they did show up.

There were more words now as well. Something changed, as they were more positive.

"Stay behind me, I'll protect you."

That was one that had shown up today. Along your inner thigh, making you glad you wore shorts today.

Maybe he wasn't in a gang but was just a cop with a bad attitude. Unfortunately, your soulmate had never said his name, and you had no clues as to how to find him.

-

This job was great. But god, the military really couldn't keep a damn thing organized.

You might be the only person who knew where anything was at this point. Which left you carrying several boxes of confidential files to the office of Ouchi Fukuchi directly, because no one else knew where to find the paperwork that was needed.

He was also three months behind on all of it. Which was fine, it was only a matter of national security, after all. It wasn't an important thing, really. Who cared?

You weren't stressed about it at all.

"Do you need help?" A voice filtered through the elevator, and you almost cried with relief. The boxes were heavy, and based on the man's voice, he sounded like someone who actually could handle carrying them.

Unlike you at the moment, who was using every last bit of strength you had in order to keep them from spilling all over the carpet at the moment.

You worked at a desk. This was more lifting in a day than you did a year. Yes, of course you could use some help. Obviously.

"Yes. Can you push the number for Mr. Fukuchi's office? And also grab one of these boxes? If you aren't busy."

You were praying that he wasn't busy. Those few seconds as you waited felt like hell, but eventually you felt the man's hands touch your own, taking the boxes from your arms and relieving the agonizing weight from your spine.

Sighing, you leaned against the elevator door, feeling how it slowly lifted up to the highest story. Slowly, because despite appearances, the Hunting Dogs headquarters had disgustingly slow elevators despite the million-dollar planes they had parked in the vicinity.

The stairs might have been faster, honestly.

You could also have avoided the man's staring - the brunette was tall, and he glanced at your exposed skin as if you were naked. You turned to the doors, avoiding his gaze.

"Do you, know your soulmate?"

The man was blunt, his honey eyes staring directly at your wrist. He was holding the boxes as if they weighed nothing, and watching him made your back hurt more. What did they feed those military guys?

"No, I don't. Sorry, I know it's nasty. I feel bad for whoever Tecchou is, he doesn't seem to get along with him."

You tried to laugh it off, looking down at your wrist. Right there, you could see what your soulmate had said today, in the same messy cursive he always spoke in:

"Go to hell Tecchou, your food is always shit and I hope you die."

It had only shown up right when you had to go and deliver the files. Because of course it did - your soulmate really had to embarrass you like that in front of everyone.

You remembered when you were twelve you said you would smack the shit out of him. Maybe you would still do that, because right now it felt embarrassing to be stared at like that.

It wasn't your fault your soulmate had such a foul mouth.

Now you were going to meet the leader of the Hunting Dogs, and he was going to see what an embarrassment of a soulmate you had.

Thank god it wasn't on your forehead, at least.

The doors of the elevator opened, and you tried to keep your body straight and rigid, waiting for a greeting from Fukuchi himself. You watched the brunette walk in with the files, straight to the front of the desk as if it were habit.

You followed behind him, hoping you made a good impression.

"Ouchi Fukuchi! I am-"

Before you could finish your greeting, the man held a hand towards you.

"Tecchou, didn't I tell you to take a walk?" The older man was stern, and you stayed silent in hopes that he didn't turn his cold gaze towards you.

"...She looked like she was struggling." His voice was deep and monotone, and he looked almost bored from behind the stack of files he was hiding behind.

"So you decided to be an errand boy?"

"Yes."

There was a silence. You couldn't tell what was going on between the two men, but you were terrified. The look Fukuchi gave was terrifying, worse than was portrayed in the films you had seen before - he was scarier in person. His gaze was intense, as if he was trying to kill the man with his eyes.

"Sir, if I may add. They are very heavy, and I appreciated the help a lot."

You didn't know what came over you. Both men looked at you, and it had you putting your arms and head down, praying that the floor would eat you.

Fuck. You just needed to deliver the files and just go back to your office. You didn't even work for the Hunting Dogs, you worked for a completely different part of the government. This wasn't your business to get into.

"Sorry. Um...Those files, there is a file on top about their contents. They are to be completed and sent out ASAP. Requested by the prime minister. Apologies."

Your voice was firm, despite the sweat that was collecting on your palms. Without looking at anyone or anything, you nodded at the men and walked out, pressing the button for the ground floor several times.

This was terrifying.

-

The Hunting Dogs were hunting you. Ironic, but you now had one of them showing up at your office, wanting to 'talk' - what was there to even talk about?

You had only been there for maybe ten minutes at most, like, a week ago. If something happened in that facility, you had no part in it.

If you could, you would hide underneath your desk forever. But that most likely made them think you were guilty of whatever crime they suspected you of, and you did not want to seem like a criminal to them.

Their investigation tactics were more than infamous. You did not want to become another horror story.

Steeling yourself, you walked out, bracing for the inevitable interrogation that was about to follow. The man that was waiting for you was standing with a little girl - you vaguely remembered her as the vice-captain, although the man you couldn't really place his name.

His two-toned hair seemed familiar though. You might have seen it on a photograph before, when you were told about the group in a discussion about how lazy they were with paperwork. His closed eyes seemed strange, but tried to avoid them.

The man smiled at you, and it seemed more calculating than warm and friendly. The girl, someone you remembered to be known for her combat skills, didn't seem to be interested. She only blinked at you, bored at your office outfit.

You had to convince him that you were innocent. Of whatever it was that they had thought you were guilty of.

"So. Trying to get all pretty for me?"

The man was grinning, and you didn't know what to say. He had taken a step closer, and out tried to stay as still as possible, slowing your breathing.

If it was fight or flight, you chose freeze.

Keeping your face calm was hard, but you paused your breaths, trying your best to keep your body as cool as possible as the two didn't state why it was urgent that they speak to you. In the middle of your work day.

"Um. Is there a reason why you guys asked to see me?"

You were staring at the daisy-haired man's forehead, praying that he didn't notice that you were trying your hardest to not make eye contact with him.

"Did you deliver files to Fukuchi?"

The girl was bored, rocking her feet back and forth, slapping the man next to her with her ponytail.

"Um. Yes. I did."

"And did you meet a man named Tecchou Suehiro while you were there?"

"The brunette?"

"Yes. And tall, with three stupid tattoos under his eyes. Did you meet him?"

"I believe so, yes. He helped me carry the files to Mr. Fukuchi's office."

"What did your arm say that day?"

That was an odd question. That wouldn't have something to do with any sort of crime, would it? Or were you not thinking straight?

"Oh. Something about killing a man named Tecchou."

It felt like a pause button had been pressed at that moment.

Tecchou was an uncommon name. And Fukuchi had certainly called that man in the elevator by that name as well. How could you have missed that detail?

"...Why are you asking me about that?"

Tecchou had asked about the mark too, now that you had thought of it.

"Did my soulmate kill him?"

Either that, or Tecchou had killed him, and this was how you were going to find out that your soulmate was dead. He was dead and gone before you had ever gotten to meet him. Just one of those tragic cases of a love that never got to happen.

You steeled yourself for the news, taking in a deep breath.

"Jouno your soulmate is stupid."

The girl walked away, huffing and shaking her head. The man in front of you, Jouno, clapped your shoulder, breathing out a sigh.

"Tecchou is still alive. Unfortunatly."

The man's eyes hadn't opened to look at you, staying closed as he struggled to find the words. He was in your space, and you could taste how he struggled to find the words to say what he wanted to say.

Somehow, he was still smiling through the awkwardness, but you had started to realize-

He was blind. And your soulmate.

Your soulmate was always blind.

The strange spot on your back made more sense now. It wasn't some stupid art piece, but most certainly something he felt because he was blind.

"-I don't think I need to say anything. You know."

The man gave up on forming sentences, instead choosing to rub your shoulder and smile.

"Um. Yeah."

You spent nearly twenty years waiting to meet this man, and this is all you had to say? Wasn't there something more?

"Um. Shouldn't we do something?" His hand was still on you, and you didn't know if you should tell him to let go or not. This was the first time you had ever met, and frankly - you actually liked it a little bit. He was warm, and he didn't give you a weird feeling compared to some other people.

"Do what?"

"I don't know. We're soulmates. Shouldn't we like, have a moment?"

In the movies you had seen, there were soulmates who would meet and have a 'magical contact' moment. You couldn't look into his eyes and swoon, but surely he was having a magic moment right now? Wasn't he going to ask you on a date and try to live with you forever or something?

This should have been the start of...something.

"No. This is good enough. Honestly, I'd rather not see you again."

Or not.

His face didn't portray anything - he was still smiling, as if he was working at a front desk and not meeting his soulmate for the first time. You felt like you were looking into it, but surely he also wanted something more?

That smile couldn't be real.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. It's nothing with you, but it's probably best if we don't try to make this a thing."

He let go finally, and that shoulder felt cold as he stepped away. You didn't know what to say, watching as he slowly removed himself from the little bubble the two of you had.

There was magic, and there was no magic. It was a mirage, more like it.

"So. You just, wanted to meet me, I guess?"

"Just know that you're alive. And you are. Good for us."

Us. But there is no us, because there is no thing, apparently. Just a him, and now you had to suppose a you. A lonely, singular you.

"Sorry. Um. Yeah, okay. Then let's not talk. That's fine."

It wasn't. Or maybe it was. You didn't know what to think, because your soulmate, who you now knew was the Hunting Dog Jouno, had come and gone in what felt like a matter of seconds.

But you supposed that was the end of it. You met your soulmate, and you would never see him again.

So why were you about to cry?

-

Ever since that meeting, the universe had been playing tricks on you. Or whoever had deemed soulmates to be a thing.

Before, whatever Jouno had put onto your body was so abstract that you could barely understand it. Now it felt like he was playing tricks on you.

"If I die, I don't care."

It felt like he was playing a game. You had only met him once, but if he died, you would care.

You would care so much.

The petty part of you had taken to those high school days, grabbing your sharpie and writing little responses underneath those types of sentences.

"I care." and "I love you, stay safe." was something you had started to write over and over again on your body.

It likely didn't matter. He was blind. But if it ever showed up on his skin, you hoped someone on his team would see it.

Part of you wanted to write it on your forehead and neck, just to shame him. Maybe he didn't care, but you cared - he would have everyone know just how much his soulmate cares about him.

But you didn't want to wash that off. You also were sure that your concealer wasn't going to cover that up.

It would just make the both of you look stupid.

-

Your day was just going great.

Great. As in, you were stuck next to a shitty criminal, who was pulling at your nice dress and tearing the buttons along the back.

This was expensive.

God. What a dickhead.

And who was going to save you from this guy? He had some weird fucked up ability, and it was freaking you out.

You didn't really deal with that stuff.

This was a time when you chose to freeze again. You wanted to choose something else - to fight back and be brave, or to run, do something.

But you felt frozen. It was honestly hard to breathe, but that might have been from how your dress was pulling against your neck, restricting your airflow.

"Oh shit, it's the Hunting Dogs."

The guy next to you groaned, and you tried your hardest to disappear as you felt him tug and pull you around.

The gunshots were loud, and you were stuck choosing between covering your ears and pulling against your dress as the man tried to choke you with it.

You chose your ears, in the end. However many gunshots he fired, you didn't count, instead trying your best to become a ball. One that would be unmovable, immune to the hellfire that was happening.

Maybe if you became deadweight, he would drop you and run away. He had no reason for you, right?

You didn't know why he chose to use you as a distraction anyway. This was your day off, couldn't he have chosen any other person?

"Goddammit, I said get up!"

The man pulled at your hair, and you screamed. As much as you fought back, clawing at his arms, he started to drag you away from his little spot in the building, to the open area where you could see a whole crowd had gathered.

It was hard to see if any of the Hunting Dogs were actually there, as you could only focus on the pain you were in.

Weren't they going to do their jobs? What the fuck was taking so long.

This felt like it was taking forever. This guy was tugging you around, and talking about something that you couldn't even bring yourself to care about. It was something that a man who would try to blow up a building would say - they're spying on us, they're killing us, they made it all up. Whoever they are, and whoever the us is. It didn't matter, because now your day was ruined.

Maybe you were pathetic, still trying to fight back. The guy seemed ridiculously strong.

"Run."

The word was whispered to you, in a soft voice and with a gentle hand on your back. It might have only been a second - but the moment the grip loosened on your hair, you took the moment to run.

God knows where. But you ran. It might have been the fastest you had ever been in your life, if you were being honest with yourself.

You were just glad the nightmare was over.

-

Ever since that...event. You haven't had a good dream since.

It was hard too. You would wake up to the violent hair pulling, the smells, and there would be that voice at the end each time.

You would be crying, and each time the voice would say something different. In real life, all he had said was "Run" but in your dreams, he said rather sweet things.

They were things that frankly, you had wanted to hear. He had a gentle voice for a man, and it was hard to believe that it was the same voice as your soulmate.

You kept pretending that it wasn't him. As time went on, you were more hurt by the words he said, you started to pretend that the voice you heard was just a different man you had conjured up.

Something you made while you were delirious with fear. And now he was haunting your dreams, because you were a lonely and loveless woman, who couldn't stop crying in her kitchen because she was scared of something that had already happened.

It was stupid. You knew it was stupid, and you just wanted to be over it. But for some reason, you were left sitting at the table again, forcing yourself to drink a glass of water and play through another round of solitaire.

The knocking on the door scared the shit out of you.

...

Another knock.

Fuck.

Gettting up, you stalked slowly to the door, hoping that the intruder to your miserable peace wouldn't hear your approach the door. You wanted to pretend you weren't there, even if it was obvious you were home.

Another knock.

Loud ones. Impatient ones.

"I know you're in there. Listen, I just need to talk to you real quick."

Peeping through the peephole, you saw him - Jouno, who was clad in a dandelion bedhead and grey sweatpants. His hoodie was a strange faded color, and you were sure it was old enough to be his father's.

Taking a moment, you breathed as you watched him. It was hard to believe he was standing there, actually at the front of your door.

At like what, two in the morning?

You opened the door a little bit, feeling the cold night air breeze by. It made you pull yourself closer together, as the shirt you wore barely covered you enough to protect you from the cold.

Thank god Jouno was blind at least. He would see a lot more than he bargained for, you imagined.

"...What do you want?" You wished you could have your voice sound firm, like an interrogator. But you could still hear the tears in your voice, and it made you want to hide in your bed like a mole dug into the dirt.

You sounded so lame.

"Listen. Let me in, real quick."

He was smiling, the same one that you saw when you first met him. Like a fucking customer service representative, trying to sell you something. At two in the morning.

"I'm not a booty call."

"No, what? Just let me inside-" You started to close the door, not caring for the force you used. He could handle it.

"Bring me flowers if you want to ask me for anything next time."

Jouno fought back easily, but was polite enough to stay between the door and the entryway. He only kept half of his body there to maintain conversation, allowing you the ability to slam the door on him if you so wished.

It was tempting, at that moment.

"I need you to listen. This isn't sex or anything."

"Can't you say it in the morning? Some people sleep."

That was a lie, but you weren't in the right mind to speak to him at that moment. He made you emotional - maybe his whole existence was making you feel too much, but that was likely heightened by the fact that you hadn't slept well for the last few nights.

"That's exactly it! You aren't sleeping. Now I can't sleep. So let me in, because I want to go to sleep-"

He pushed through your hold of the door. He had both let himself in, and you had let him.

"You're so selfish."

For some stupid reason, you had let him into your home and had already started to cry again. It had taken so long to calm down, and now you were starting the process all over again.

God, you were really starting to hate your soulmate for doing this to you.

"What? What's selfish about that?"

"You came here just so you could sleep. Why don't you figure out a way to go to sleep on your own!"

The words were spilling out of your mouth, and frankly whatever you said was not even registering in your brain.

All you knew was that you were feeling a lot at the moment. You hadn't felt like this since you were twelve and had the big mark show up on your back, making you mad for weeks.

Maybe you were still mad. And you were remembering it all just now.

Or maybe you were just really tired.

"I did try! I took enough melatonin to kill a man, but you won't let me sleep with your stupid nightmares!"

The man in front of you looked stressed, and you wanted to feel bad. But at the moment, your mind could only think of the worst words to say to him, to twist anything to try and hurt him.

You took a breath. A deep one, feeling how you were choking your brain from oxygen.

Why were you screaming at each other at two in the morning?

"Listen. I know PTSD is stressful, but you can find a way to cope with it, can't you?"

Jouno put his hands on your shoulders. He stepped into your space, and he was so close you could smell the coffee on his breath.

Maybe it wasn't you, but the caffeine he was drinking so goddamn late into the night.

"I don't have PTSD. I've never been to war."

"Then what is this then." He shook you, as if you were the stupid one here, despite walking over to someone's home in the middle of the night.

"Just something I need to get over."

That's something you had always been told. And you were sure it was something that would go away. Eventually.

"See. This is the problem. You don't even know how to deal with the problem you have. And now, I can't sleep."

The man didn't give you a chance to argue back. Before you could say anything, he hauled you onto his shoulder, his hand traveling along your back.

Desperately, you grabbed at his sweatshirt, pulling at the fabric and praying you wouldn't fall onto your face.

"Where's your bedroom? You're sleeping whether you want to or not."

Without caring to listen, he attempted to navigate your home anyway. It was a little entertaining, feeling how he turned his body in circles as he tried to figure out where to go.

"That's the wrong way. It's the other way. On the left."

You pitied him. If only a little bit.

-

"Is sleeping really that hard for you?"

Your bed wasn't small, but Jouno made it feel small with just his presence alone. His body was warmer than yours, and you could feel the heat radiating off of him as you laid side by side, with a few fingers space between each other.

Now that you had though about it, you never had really made space for another person in your bed before. There really was only enough space for you.

"I have a strange man in my bed, can you blame me?"

"I'm your soulmate, I'm not just anyone."

Now he wanted to be something. When he wanted it to benefit him.

Maybe you were deeply bitter about the way he rejected ever wanting to be anything at all.

"You really are selfish, you know? You said you didn't want this to be a thing, but now you're going on about being my soulmate."

Because that meant something. It meant having an actual bond, a sort of relationship. This wasn't anything - at most, you had vague conversations, and now he was just a man in your bed who was upset at you for a stupid reason.

And you were mad at him. And you hoped he knew that.

"I wouldn't do this if I couldn't sleep. We're just...people who need each other."

His voice sounded off. As off as you could tell, as if he was lying, even to himself.

Why did he say these things if even he didn't believe them?

"Do I really need you?" You said the words only loud enough that the pillow could hear you, hoping that he had finally managed to go to sleep, or thought that you had.

But you felt him turn around, bouncing the bed and pulling at the blanket the two of you shared.

Of course he heard it somehow. What a freak.

"Clearly! You couldn't even save yourself. You're lucky I was there."

He was closer now, his voice nearly kissing your ears. You groaned, his volume too loud for your wallowing.

"That's your job, isn't it? To save people?"

Waving him off, you didn't bother to face him - like it would matter, when he couldn't even see you. Instead, you hugged the pillow in front of you closer, feeling how the cold fabric kissing your exposed skin.

It was rather cold for the summertime.

"...I didn't want to know you more, because I didn't want you to be hurt."

His breath tickled your neck, and somewhere along the bed you could feel his fingers dance along the fabric, far too close to your shoulders.

You didn't know him too well, but his touch didn't bother you as much as you wanted to pretend it did.

"How were you going to hurt me?"

"My job. I'm going to die, eventually. It'll be a miracle if I reach 40."

His voice was gentle, without the tone of an insurance agent. He sounded honest; speaking as if he really meant what he said.

It left you breathless, and you had to remind yourself that you needed to breathe in order to live.

"That doesn't mean anything. I would still like to know you when you're here."

There was a laugh behind you, a tired one. Maybe he was only saying these things because he was also exhausted.

A lack of sleep was worse than drugs, you had once heard before.

You couldn't even open your eyes anymore at this point. It was just your mind fighting you.

"That would be nice. But I'm not the best person, I would just make your life miserable. You're right, I am really selfish."

"I know. But I think you're worth it Jouno."

-

After that night, something felt different. Your body felt different.

For one thing, you now had Jouno's phone number. He had texted you, and told you to call him in case of emergencies only.

You had learned that meant when you couldn't couldn't sleep, he really couldn't sleep. And when you couldn't eat, he couldn't eat. and it was an emergency.

Maybe because he was blind, his soulbond appeared differently. It wasn't visual at all, but instead tormented him with your own physical sensations.

It had you wondering if he had ever felt your pain. Or felt anything else you felt.

It wasn't a conversation you were willing to have just yet. You had just started to feel comfortable texting and calling him.

Having him sleep in the same bed was as far as you two had gone, and it had only happened a few times after. He had shared meals with you as well, after you lost your appetite from a bad stomach bug.

It was a strange relationship you had formed. You weren't sure if you were ever going to get closer than you were.

Maybe you were ok with knowing him like this. Like a strange acquaintance, learning weird bits and pieces about him, with unanswered questions that you were too scared to ask.

He was your soulmate. Maybe he didn't need to be anything more than that.

-

"You know, because of you, I can't really go out shirtless anymore."

Jouno was relaxed against the table, bored as he played around with the food on his plate. Recently he wasn't able to each much at all, and you had stayed over for the last while.

But it didn't seem to have much to do with you. Right now you were stuffed, and it seemed like it was all on Jouno at the moment. He had only eaten a quarter of his plate, and you had considered feeding it to him like a child so he would eat more of it.

"Why?"

"Because. You put this on my chest."

Jouno leaned up from the table and forgot his food; taking off his cotton T-shirt, revealing what you had always believed would be there.

Two lines, right by a little ugly scar - "Stay safe, I love you."

They were a little close together, not a work of art by any means. Your handwriting on someone's skin looked...funny. Almost unreal. It looked blotched out, and it reminded you too well of how stupid you were as a teenager, tracing over the Sharpie over and over again, hoping your blind soulmate would see it.

"You're mad about it?"

"It looks like a shitty tattoo."

That was your one mark on him forever. And he called it a shitty tattoo. It wasn't like the stupid daily quotes and one-liners, it was forever.

God forbid you care about someone.

"...I thought you got stabbed." You didn't really see the point in getting hurt by what he said in anymore. This was just how Jouno was.

"Did you feel it?"

"Don't get excited! No! Weirdo!"

You kicked him from underneath the table, easily kicking at his long calves as they stuck out towards your space. Always your space, because he was a tall freak who loved to walk into the space of others, and yours was his favorite.

The man in front of you only giggled, playing footsie with his too-cold feet.

"I see it. Every time you get hurt, it shows up on my skin. You don't really give me pictures or colors. Sometimes I see sentences, but it's not enough. But I always know when you get hurt."

Which was true. You didn't have his scars, but you knew when they hurt. Because the little lines showed up.

"Not enough? Do you like hearing about my day?"

The man's voice sounded ecstatic, smiling as he trapped your feet between his own, almost in a handshake. Maybe he was playing with you, trying to flirt when he didn't mean it at all.

"I like it when you say positive things. It's not really common, you usually are threatening to kill people. It gets boring after a while."

You let him win, instead choosing to take a bite out of his uneaten food. It was right there, and you might as well take your chance, right?

"Well it did help me find you, didn't it?"

"I guess. Yeah."

You tried to take another bite, but the daisy-haired man took you hand and led the fork straight to his mouth. Part of you wanted to kill him, if it wasn't his food you were stealing from.

Maybe you actually cared about him, despite how weird he was.

"Can I ask you something?"

Jouno nodded, starting to eat now knowing that you were willing to take from his plate. Watching him was funny - trying to be as unmessy as he could, while smearing half of his face in sauce.

It was a little cute, seeing him struggle each time.

"Since I was twelve, there's this...mark, on my back. It's not really something you can see, but something you can more feel. It should be related to you, since no doctor has had an explanation for it."

Saying that was strange. The culprit was right in front of you, and now you were asking him politely, despite him being a man who broke into your home at least three times now.

"What do you think it is?" He spoke with his mouthful and no table manners, and at this rate you would rather have him eat with his hands.

"I don't know! Some fucked up masterpiece by a blind asshole I'm attached to for life. If you're an artist, I'm smacking the shit out of you."

You were starting to remember that promise when you were twelve. It really irked you that you hadn't kept to it yet.

"What? Why?"

"Because it's annoying."

Since it showed up, it ruined a lot of things for you - your expectations of your relationship, your fantasies, your dreams. It was really a bad premonition, because Jouno was just like that mark - fucking impossible to understand. And stuck to you for life.

"I can't believe you think the mark that signifies me, and our bond, is annoying. Wow, you hate me."

"You called mine a shitty tattoo!"

He stopped chewing like a marmot, going back slowly as he registered your words.

"...Okay. And?"

"Whatever. But you should get it." At the very least, if he was going to be a thorn in your side forever, he was going to be a useful one, and solve this for you.

"Why would I?"

"Don't play coy with me! That's how soulmates work! Didn't anyone tell you anything!"

"No not really. I honestly figured I would die before I met you, so I never cared."

He said this normally, as if he had said it before. It was just more dinner talk to him, as he chewed senselessly on his salad.

"...what?"

"I just never thought it would matter. I didn't think we would even meet, and I never thought about what would happen next. I don't think it's that big of a deal, really."

The world turned silent to you, as you heard him say that.

I never cared. I don't think its that big of a deal.

Then what were you doing here?

-

You never got your answer for that mark.

Stupid Jouno had disappeared to East Europe for the last two weeks, and you haven't heard back from him. Maybe you didn't want to.

He never cared.

You had spent years, before even knowing him, caring about what he would be like. You cared when he got stabbed, and you cared even when he rejected you.

But he never cared at all.

Did he never think about you? Not when you had broken your wrist? He felt your pain, didn't he feel that?

When you went to work today, you thought about getting hit by a car and seeing if he would call. Just to know if you were okay.

But that was selfish. He was probably busy, and making someone else feel the pain of getting hit by a car was more than a dick move.

You also needed that money from your job. They paid your rent, not your soulmate. That would stay a fantasy, and a dead one; where you and Jouno could function like a normal couple, and live together and maybe even get married.

If he was just a normal man. Who didn't say stupid things and hurt your feelings that you hated you had.

It was ruining the makeup that you spent hours on this morning.

-

"Hey."

"...It's been two months, and that's all you have to say? Hey?"

You had been ready to receive the news that he had died while he was there. Or at least see it on TV. He was practically MIA with the other Hunting Dogs, and no one in the government knew what the hell was going on.

"Listen. It's been a rough two months. When I come back, I want to see you. First thing.

"The hell am I to you? A dog? Should I come back with the morning newspaper?"

"I didn't realize you came with perks." He sounded exhausted over the phone, but his laugh was still the same. It managed to annoy you as well, even after not hearing it for two months.

"Go fuck yourself!"

"...Are you mad at me?"

Yes. You honestly had been mad at him since you knew him, but that wasn't something you wanted to admit to yet.

"No. You just caught me at a bad time."

"Just be at my apartment, alright? And wear that short dress with the strings. Or nothing at all."

"Is this a bootycall?"

"I call you for more things than that."

What an asshole. Jouno was supposed to be a logical man, but he had no clue how to navigate a human relationship it seemed. It was as if he was stepping on seashells every time, and you had to watch them crumble underneath his stupid boots.

He is horrible at navigating anyone's emotions. He only seemed to be able to hurt them.

You tried to keep your voice calm, despite the fact you wanted to cry. Part of you was proud that only your eyes were wet, knowing that Jouno wouldn't know how much he bothered you with his stupidity.

"We aren't anything. This is something."

"...Can we be something? I miss you."

He was almost whimpering over the receiver, and you hoped that someone on the other end could record what he looked like. Because he must have looked funny, begging and pleading like a dog.

"I'm expecting flowers. Or chocolate."

"You like dark, right? You have horrible tastebuds."

"Says the idiot who drinks more milk than coffee." He really should just add an espresso shot to his glass of milk, it was disgusting how much he added and then claimed he loved caffeine.

"Okay. Whatever. Love you."

God, what the hell was wrong with Jouno?

-

"The mark on your back."

Jouno's hand trailed up your spine, his fingers dancing along the little lines that made up the mark, as if reading it like a page in a book.

It felt good.

"Yeah?"

"It's a map." His lips were right above your ear, and you could feel how his breath fanned across your face. This man had no sense of personal space around you.

"Okay. And of what?"

"It's a map of my childhood home. I haven't been there in years. I don't know why it's on your back."

His fingers went lower, to the little part that was raised more than the rest. It looked like a mole, although the skin around it gave the impression of a faded scar, from what you had been told.

"How do you know it's a map?"

"I memorize everywhere I've been."

"And you know just by feeling it?" His hand splayed out against your back, making you feel small. Jouno's hands were not as soft as voice, and you could feel the work he put in them as his callouses brushed against your skin.

"I've never felt it before. But I know. It's strange that it's on your body."

"Well, it means something. It's been there since forever."

Over a decade now. It had taunted you for over a decade.

"...I haven't been there in a long time."

The man plopped his body down next to you, drapping half of himself on top of you. He was heavy, and his face was nearly smushed against your own as he lay there, as if he were a weighted blanket and not a man.

"You know there's another half of the bed, right? You own a king-sized mattress."

And silk sheets, that smelt really good.

He could roll over and still have space to spread out. There was no reason for him to treat your space like it was his own.

"You smell good." To exaggerate, he grabbed the back of your head and pulled you closer, smelling your neck and ear as if you were a living room candle.

You tried to push him away, laughing as he stuck his nose in the one ticklish spot along your neck, but it was hard to fight in the position you were in. Pulling against his hair and kicking against him was futile as he pulled you in closer, grabbing you two into a hold as he decided that your sweaty body was the best thing he had smelled since soap had been invented.

"Freak!" It was hard to stay serious as his arm danced along your sides, having you choke on the word as it sputtered out in laughter.

Jouno only laughed at your struggles. Because of course they were funny to a sadist like him.

-

"I um. I got you flowers."

Jouno looked funny when he tried to be anything other than a soldier or an asshole.

He dressed up - and not to beat a man to death, but because he was seeing you. On a date.

The first one since you had actually known each other. It was such a mundane thing, but it felt like you were seeing a wild animal playing dress up. His hair was done as nice as it usually was, and he was dressed in an outfit that you could picture him wearing to an event - he looked like he didn't have a criminal record.

The flowers added to it, bouncing from in front of him and between his side, as if he had never given a woman flowers in his life before.

His smile said otherwise, which couldn't help but make you laugh inside.

"For?"

"To apologize." He decided to push them into your hands, grabbing them around the stems and making sure you weren't going to drop them to the floor.

You would never do that. They smelled too nice.

"Why are you apologizing?"

"There's a lot of times I've made you cry. Usually, you apologize for that." His voice was low, as he fixed the bouquet he couldn't see. His hands were nervously looking for things to pick at, as if they had eyes of their own and could fix the world one little detail at a time.

His face stayed frozen in his stupid little smile.

"Well, it's not like I'm upset about it now."

"Can't you just accept some flowers?"

His hands decided to fix your hair, brushing down flyaways that didn't exist. If you stared only at his smile, you would think he was as calm as a still pond.

"...They're nice." They were your favorites. They matched what your childhood self had pictured for her stupid little wedding day. One you had given up on, but still wanted to believe in.

Maybe still did, in some way.

Jouno wasn't exactly what you pictured - he looked more like a fox than a handsome prince, and the way he smelled your head right now was more weird than romantic, but you were willing to take it.

He might have been your handsome prince.

"So is there a date planned? Or are we just standing in a park?"

"Why do you always question me?"

"You don't really know what you're doing."

Jouno was a brilliant man in a lot of things. But god he could not make up his mind when it came to you and what he wanted out of this.

Was this really that hard?

"You've seen me at work."

"Okay? Are we going to kill bank robbers or something? Is that our first date?"

The man most certainly had his gun on him, which confused you, because you knew that he hated using it more than any other weapon he owned. But yet you were sure that tucked away in his Chelsea boots was his little handgun, that he would pull out in a moment's notice.

Maybe he had one tucked away in his pants somewhere. He didn't seem to bring his sword, which is the only weapon he hadn't complained about to you yet.

"...It's the boring romance stuff. You like that."

"It's not boring-"

"I've seen your movies. It's boring."

He rolled his shoulders back, scanning the park as his earring danced against his neck.

"And what do you want to do?"

"I don't know. Never really thought about it." His hands started to dance along your jacket, pulling against the lapels as if there was lint that he could actually see.

"Maybe you actually like the boring stuff, and just don't know it."

You started to ignore him, instead deigning to walk ahead of him with the bouquet he gave you.

Were you going to carry this the entire time?

"A walk in the park? You think that's fun?" He only took two big steps to catch up to you, and you dared to kick at him. You didn't care if you were trying to trip a blind man - Jouno wasn't a regular blind man, and he would probably throw you both into the grass eventually after one of you said something stupid.

"It's fun when it's with people you love."

Taking the bouquet, you gently slapped him with it. The daisy-haired man snorted back.

This is close enough to what you wanted.

Hey guys ignore the fact that I originally uploaded this half unfinished yesterday! This is for my Valentine's day event, so go check that out lol. Also sorry that its. So long.

[gilbirda]

Friendly neighborhood vigilante. Chapter 19

BatmanxDP crossover. JasonxJazz

[Read on AO3] [Read on FF.net]

Based on this post

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----

Bruce watched them giggle, her face red, as both probably remembered something that happened between them. He didn’t know what they were talking about — there was so much he didn’t know about them, or about Jason — but it was grounding how easy she talked about… about Red Hood, with the same love in her eyes that she reserved for Jason.

He felt so stupid for thinking that Jasmine wanted to harm his son. He would still observe, of course, just in case; but he knew acting and he knew that Jasmine was not putting up an act when she smiled back at Jason’s grin.

“How did you two meet?”

Jazz didn’t acknowledge when the others got quiet and looked at him. “I think a few weeks after I moved in. We ran into each other in the elevator.”

“Ah yes. I remember thinking you were weird.”

“Hey.”

“I mean— an outsider moving so close to Crime Alley? I was half convinced you’d be killed in a week.”

Jasmine huffed, playfully slapping her boyfriend’s arm. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know that now, but when you told me you worked at Arkham I—”

“You said, and I quote, ‘And you are still alive?’”

“You work at Arkham?” Bernard jumped where he was sitting next to Tim on the other sofa. “Wha— How?”

Jason made a gesture like “see? I’m not the only one”, the smirk not leaving his lips. Bruce couldn’t remember the last time he saw him smile so much.

“I came to Gotham because I saw they had an opening. Well, it doesn’t surprise me now that I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Everyone ends up dead or quits their job in that place.” She shook her head in, a slight frown on her face.

“Then why haven’t you? Quit, I mean.”

She thought about her answer for a moment. Bruce leaned in, interested in what she was going to say. He remembered her application explaining her interest in Gotham’s rogues and how they came to be.

“Many things? I always wanted to work in the mental health field,” she looked down, sighing, “not necessarily criminal psychology, but since this job was close to what I do back in the Infinite Realms I thought I could learn something new.”

Close to what she did? What was her role in this Team Phantom she mentioned?

“Also,” she continued, “Gotham’s rogues kind of grow on you? Some of them just need a healthier outlet, or to be dedicated an amount of time that nobody is willing to do in Arkham. Because of course they don’t,” she rolled her eyes, making a vague gesture with her hand, “since high management is more focused on embezzling donations and trying to get their foot into the Mob business.”

The others, who had heard her mention that when Bruce went to Jason’s apartment the previous day, leaned in at the new information.

“She has powerpoints.” Jason crossed his arms. “And a hit list.”

“Is not a hit list.” Jasmine quickly clarified. “I don’t have proof, yet, but I will. At this point I just want to see Dylan’s career ruined out of spite.”

“He hates you with passion.” Bruce observed, remembering the disdain and thinly veiled hatred Dylan had towards Jasmine. He had been obviously trying to convince him she was a maladapted naïve young girl that was going to get herself killed. “I think he actually wants you dead.”

Jasmine scoffed. “If he wants me dead that much he has to do it himself.”

It was like a mirage — the way she crossed her arms, the raised eyebrow, the daring smile. Was she so much like Jason or was it something she unconsciously copied from him?

Either way, it was actually very cute.

“And the rogues haven't tried to kill you?”

She turned to look at Duke, shrugging. “No yet? I know some of them dislike me, but in general they tolerate me just fine. I think they are waiting to see me snap, or at least Edward said so.”

“Riddler?”

“Yeah. He has this interesting —” she made a face, indicating that wasn’t exactly the word she was thinking “ — way of displaying affection. Last Friday, when the breakout happened, he was the one who told me to be prepared with a ‘I’d hate to see your brains splattered on the wall, doc’.”

“So he knew beforehand and told you? And you didn’t stop him?”

Several looked at him, a warning in their eyes. Bruce backpedaled quickly, relaxing his shoulders on purpose.

“Part of my job in Arkham is gaining their trust. Treating them like people helps, some lower their guard once they see I’m not afraid of them, others are all about their secrets. Secrets are expensive in Arkham,” Jasmine’s eyes were cold and her body language collected, “Ed risked a lot just by telling me. If it was known that Riddler is a snitch then he would be out of the market. Is a delicate game.”

Duke was nodding along in agreement. Jason was still glaring at Bruce.

“And what if any of them turn on you? You can’t trust them.”

He knew he sounded paranoid, but he had tried to help them before. He had tried to invest that time and that effort Jasmine was talking about into helping them instead of just tossing them back to Arkham, but it was the same story over and over again — they could change and be better, but circumstances always brought them back in an endless cycle not unlike his own.

“I can take care of myself.”

Before anybody could stop him, Damian threw something at Jasmine. It was fast, and when they heard her loud gasp Bruce was completely ready to rush for the first aid kit in the nearby bathroom.

“That was not nice, kid.”

Damian huffed. “Not a kid.”

Bruce watched, mesmerized, how Jasmine yanked a pocket knife from the back of the sofa right where her head would have been if she didn’t somehow dodge it in time.

“Oh hey, it’s Jason’s knife! I thought I had lost it.”

She held the pocket knife like it was the most precious thing in the world, closing it with care. She said it was Jason’s?

“Tt, how careless about your weapons can you be? Took it as evidence after you threw it at me.”

“Ohhh, right. Sorry about that. I was kinda running on adrenaline back then.”

“How did you move so fast?”

Jasmine shrugged at Bernard. “At the house where I grew up, the first thing you learn is how to dodge fast.” She put the knife in her pants pocket. “And the second is how to kill before you are killed.”

To his credit, Damian looked impressed for a second. It was refreshing next to the worried glances of everyone else.

“What do you mean?” He had to ask, concerned.

No one missed how she took Jason’s hand in hers.

“I assume everyone heard us? Last Tuesday.”

Bruce remembered feeling righteous hot rage as he took her to the Diner. Her panicked face when she saw the documents. Her voice shaking as she begged Jason to believe her.

“Yes.” He swallowed the discomfort.

If Jasmine was hurt by what happened, she didn’t show. “My parents were… neglectful. There is no way around the sobbing backstory,” she chuckled, “but even if their lack of lab security has made us what we are today, my brother and I were raised in a hostile environment.

“They mixed samples with food, storing them in the same fridge. They worked on dangerous machinery in the kitchen and living room. They left children unsupervised in a lab full of chemicals and sharp objects.”

She was glaring at her own hands as she kept talking. “As you know, ectoplasm can bring things back to life. Even food.”

“Food?” Tim didn’t look convinced.

“I learned how to fight by re-killing the Thanksgiving turkey every year. And dinner.” She added after considering. “So many dinners.”

Stephanie was the first one to start laughing. Tim and Bernard followed, and soon everyone was chuckling at the absurd picture her words painted.

Bruce wasn’t laughing, though. It wasn’t as bad as the insanity they were used to, no murder cults or sadistics fathers, but still not something that sat well in Bruce’s mind. What kind of childhood did she and her brother have when they weren’t safe in their own house?

“Of course after the portal and with how things escalated it was less about survival and more about fighting to subdue and capture ghosts.”

“Not killing them?” Cass asked.

Jazz was shaking her head. “Back then all that came through the portal were troublemakers and supervillain wannabes. Later on we learned that a lot of them were testing Danny and more like training him in his new powers. We only captured and threw them back into the portal.” She sighed. “It wasn’t until we got more involved in the Realms and saw that there was so much more going on, that it was a whole dimension with complex societies and power structures, that we understood that to have actual peace the task wasn’t as simple as it looked like.”

Cass blinked, not wasting a second to ask. “Can ghosts be killed?”

Jasmine’s posture became tense. “Yes. Liminals, ghosts and— and other beings in the Realms. Is less about death and more about… ceasing to exist.”

They knew there was more going on with that statement. Was Jasmine some kind of executioner? Was that why she was so tense?

Bruce wasn’t sure how to feel about that. There was so much he didn’t know about her, about her life, about the Infinite Realms. There was a whole dimension with people, and some of those wished to cross over and do harm. Others had committed their life to protect a balance he didn’t know existed, probably paying some kind of price.

He wanted to ask so many things — what was her role in the Team? Who was she? Any event the Justice League should know about? How did their society work? What does the Underworld look like?

But he couldn’t ask that.

Not yet.

“What is your hometown like?”

Jasmine looked at him with relief in her teal eyes. He had said the right thing for once.

“Amity Park, the most haunted town in America. Or ‘a nice place to live’, as the sign says,” she smiled. “Is very different from Gotham. It’s sunny, for starters,” there were a few chuckles, “and it has always been a weird town. The Veil is thinner there, more than Gotham, and it has never been out of place to have ghostly encounters there.”

“So what? The dead walk among the living?”

She nodded at Dick. “Pretty much, yeah. ‘Dead but not gone’, we always say. After the portal ripped a door between dimensions there is so much ectoplasm around that almost everything that dies comes back soon after.”

“And Gotham? You said the Veil is thin here too.”

“Gotham is, uh, weird? The Veil is thin here, but there is so little ambient ectoplasm. Ghosts here are not as strong as they are in Amity Park, but there are so many ghosts everywhere anyway. As stubborn in death as they are in life, I guess.”

There was certain pride blooming in Bruce’s chest at her words, even as his mind latched on to the fact that the dead in Gotham tended to come back to life. Made him wonder how many people he knew had become ghosts.

Were his parents still around? Were they watching him, the man he had become? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what they would say to him if he met them now.

If he asked Jasmine would she help him? He had messed up things with her, he knew, but she was an easy and close way to answer those questions.

No. Not yet.

“You said the Manor is haunted?”

Jasmine chuckled. “Very! I was unsure if I would need to set up wards here but I think your ancestors have it covered. Nothing will enter here if they don’t wish to.”

Bruce didn’t miss how she could enter the house. His family accepted her, approved of her. Or maybe it was because she was influential?

“So if you could enter it means they like you?” Dick voiced his thoughts.

“Or has it something to do with you being a supernatural influencer?” Steph leaned in.

“What are you, by the way?” Tim had a certain glint in his eyes, like he did when he had a new mystery to solve.

Jasmine blinked at the quick questions, overwhelmed, opening her mouth.

“I remember certain agreement that tonight was not supposed to derive into an interrogation.” Alfred interrupted her from the door. She smiled at him. “Also, dinner is ready.”

Bruce watched as all his kids stood up and walked out of the room, his eyes stuck on how casually Jason entwined his hand with Jazz’s after he helped her stand up, how his eyes were soft on the edges when he looked at her.

She was talking with Steph about something, Bruce caught a few words but he wasn’t big on social media and it sounded like some kind of Twitter scandal. Jazz laughed at something Steph said. Jason smiled a little too, adding his own opinion.

“It's amazing, right?”

Bruce turned towards his eldest. “I didn’t know he could make that expression.”

“There is something about her,” Dick shook his head, “I don’t know how to describe it.”

Yeah. Bruce knew what he meant — there was a certain edge about her, something clearly made different. Even if he didn’t know what he knew about her now, he understood that she would not pass as a normal civilian like Bernard did, for example.

Jasmine was someone that could understand their world, and yet, she was not a hardened warrior. She showed softness and kindness even when thrown a knife to her face. She loved Jason and wasn’t afraid to show it. She still smiled even after all the things she went through.

It took a certain amount of bravery to be like that. To still care after… after everything.

Jason needed someone like her in his life.

Bruce cared about him, he loved him so much, but he didn't get the same results when they interacted — Bruce was so unsure about every word, every move, and in the end he made it worse in every interaction. He had stopped trying, but maybe that had been a bad call on his part.

He would observe them and try to understand how they made it look so easy.

***

“I actually don’t mind an interrogation.” Jazz was the first to speak as they all sat down.

“Don’t.” Jason frowned at her. “They don’t know how to stop.”

“Bold of you to assume I don’t have my own questions.”

They grinned at each other, remembering a conversation a long time ago, where she said she wanted to study the bats like a bug.

“Have a little bit of faith, Little Wing,” Dick said from where he was sitting next to Bruce.

“Faith? In you?” Jason glared at his brother.

Jazz gently put a hand on his, turning to look at Dick. “About your question, and the following ones— Yes, permission to enter is a big thing for ghosts. Especially a haunt. Gotham is… hm,” she looked up to thank Alfred when he passed by with her food, “thanks. Anyway, a haunt is a territory that belongs to a ghost. The more powerful the ghost, the bigger the haunt. They can share the haunt with weaker ghosts that cannot maintain a haunt, for mutual protection, but at the end of the day the more powerful one calls the shots.

“Gotham, the city, is a giant haunt that belongs to one Spirit. Without her approval nothing goes in. Or out.”

There were raised eyebrows at her words, but Jazz kept talking, making wide gestures with her hands.

“There are highly charged places, like this Manor, where a bunch of ghosts would congregate and have a mini-haunt inside Gotham, if the Spirit allows it. Arkham is another, for example. That one is a bit more cursed, though.”

Figures.

“And this… Spirit,” the word was pronounced slowly, like Bruce was trying to get used to it, “controls the city?”

“Gotham, the Spirit, is… old.” She made a face. “She may have been powerful, very powerful, once upon a time; but with all the magic cults and the pollution and the, well, situation of the city, she’s not what she was. She won’t die, yet, but Danny still wishes to help her despite our differences.” She sighed. “It’s in the list of stuff to do, which grows by the day.”

There was a beat of silence as they processed her words. Jazz looked around nervously, distracting herself by pushing a lock of hair behind her ear.

Cass, who was sitting on Jazz’s other side, didn’t miss how her ear was slightly pointed.

“Eat.”

Alfred manifested besides Bruce, glaring at him until he picked up a fork and shoved potato salad in his mouth. Then he nodded and left. Bruce swallowed and cleared his throat.

“So the city is dying because of us?”

Several of his children glanced at him, expecting the usual spiral about the sins of the father, yadda yadda.

“Hmmm, is it more like a feedback loop at this point? Gotham cannot deal with the stuff sapping her energy, not anymore, and those bad influences on the citizens create a constant stream of crime and evil that tire her out.”

“So if the Spirit is cured then all crime will disappear?” Tim frowned, disbelieving.

Jazz was already shaking her head before he ended his question. “No. People’s choices cannot be controlled, just influenced. Gotham’s ghosts are not powerful enough for possession, just nudging minds here and there. Whispers here and there. If Gotham were at full power and she could catch all of the troublemakers, it wouldn’t completely erase humans’ ability to do good or bad. Is still their choice.”

She paused for a moment to try the potato salad, chewed and swallowed.

“She’s very fond of you guys. Protective.” This raised a few eyebrows and a big smile from Cass and Dick. “She actually threatened us to not even think of touching any of you or she would throw hands.”

“I mean—” Whatever Tim was going to say with a big smirk and raised eyebrows was lost when Bernard elbowed him so hard he doubled over. “Betrayal.” He wheezed.

“Could you win against her in a fight?” Steph’s eyes were shiny at the prospect of Jazz fist fighting the freaking city to gain Jason’s hand in marriage.

“I don’t think so,” Jazz tilted her head. “I’m very rusty and she is an old city. She may not be what she once was, but she wins just by experience alone.”

“Bummer.”

Jazz shrugged. “Believe it or not, I had no intention of fighting anybody when I moved here.”

“Could have fooled me,” Jason deadpanned, chewing. When he swallowed, he added. “I’ve never seen anybody choose violence as fast as you do.”

Jazz blushed, pointing her fork at him like she was going to stab him with it. “I take that personally, mister ���this is my territory and I’ll kill you if you trespass’.” She imitated his voice, mocking even the modulated effect.

“You are the one to talk!” It was his time to blush. “You were going to kick me out! In front of Timmy!”

“He was hurt, I couldn’t let you start a pointless fight in my apartment.”

“Oh I remember this one.” Bernard chuckled. “Tim ripped two of the stitches because he insisted he was good enough to continue.”

“Of course,” Jazz scoffed at the crimefighter. “How long did it take? Ten minutes?”

“Fifteen.”

“Yeah, figures.” She shook her head in disapproval, which Bernard imitated. “Resting is a big part of the healing process.”

“THANK YOU!” Bernard’s face illuminated, leaning over the table to take Jazz’s hand. “Finally! Someone with common sense!”

“I guess you have had to do the same speech—”

“Plenty of times, yeah,” he chuckled. “I’m actually an EMT. Decided to go that career after dumb dumb over here came bleeding to my apartment one too many times.”

Jazz nodded in understanding. Bernard nodded in understanding.

Tim and Jason looked at each other, realizing at the same time that letting these two meet had been a bad idea.

Dick chuckled nervously, his mind going to a recent time Jason had been bleeding to death in Jazz’s apartment. He decided to change topics, and fast.

“So,” he cleared his throat, “you said you figured out Jay’s identity, how did that happen?”

Jazz hummed, cutting a bit of her steak and chewing it as she thought her answer. “I mean,” she started when she swallowed, “there was the obvious, but circumstantial, stuff. Unexplained income. Odd hours. Too many coincidences. Jason not knowing how to properly hide his stuff—”

“I am not—”

“ — but what was solid proof was his blood.”

Jason, who wanted to protest her obvious jab at his person, froze mid sentence.

Duke choked on his salad. Bruce almost choked with his water.

Jazz froze too, slowly looking up from her hands cutting another piece of steak. She looked at Jason with a nervous smile.

“Forgot to tell you about the blood thing, huh?”

---

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[hyrule-in-a-pokeball]

GANONDORF AND "CALAMITY" GANON: TWO SEPARATE BEINGS

Calamity Ganon, as we know, was more like a primal force of nature, though it did display some level of intelligence with its ability to formulate and execute plans (Spawning the blights and unleashing them, corrupting the Guardians, etc) it wasn't exactly a big brain genius. I mean, come on, it had 10,000 years to plan, and the best it came up with, while effective, was "Uno reverse lol" And with an additional 100 years its plan became "Cyborg time!"

And then just. "Big pig!"

It wasn't a tactical genius. It won because Hyrule was overly reliant on the ancient Sheikah technology to the point that they were helpless against that very technology when it was turned against them.

But what the hell was Calamity ganon? Well, we see it in three, maybe four forms. Pig Cloud

Which Creating a Champion states is a "spirit composed of malice"

Fashion disaster Ganon

An incomplete, slapped together body made of Malice and machinery (Apparently he started building this body when he sensed Link awaken in the chamber of resurrection)

Kaiju Ganon

A body formed of pure malice as a final "screw you though" after his cool new cyborg body was destroyed.

And the fourth body is possibly the malice itself, seeing as he seemed to be hell bent on using it to make his new bodies. It was like clumps of flesh just sort of laying around waiting to be assembled into something.

So now that we know the calamity's 3 (or 4) main forms, I want to focus on the pig cloud, because I think that is Calamity Ganon's truest form. The malice is something it created, either intentionally or as a byproduct of simply existing, and its other bodies were things made of that malice.

Now, we know that Calamity Ganon was utterly destroyed at the end of Breath of the wild. It didn't like, return to Dry Ganondorf in the depths. That thing got nuked.

And that means that Ganondorf's consciousness was always in his dry body and not acting through the Calamity. In fact, when Rauru seals him away, he taunts Rauru and says "Thousands of years will pass in the blink of an eye" which to me says he knows he gonna be stuck in that spot for a hot minute.

The Calamity spawned from him, but it was not him. Its almost like a giant, out of control Phantom Ganon thats just sort of up there doing its best. But with Ganondorf sealed away, how did Calamity Ganon get loose? Well, it might seem odd, but I think Majora's mask (the object) can point us in the right direction

Majora's Mask was once just a normal mask. Carved from normal wood. (actually if you look at the renders it looks more like it was carved from stone, but whatever) It wasn't alive, it didn't possess magic powers. It was just a mask. A mask used in ancient hexing rituals. Over time, the negative energies created from those hexing rituals sort of infected the mask and eventually became conscious, with the mask acting as a body. It was a Tulpa that was housed inside the mask. (A tulpa is a concept in mysticism of an object or being that is created through mental or spiritual power. To make it extremely basic: A tulpa is an imaginary friend that stops being imaginary. Actually in that sense, Phantom Ganon is basically a tulpa.)

So, Ganondorf, sealed away, conscious or not, was just seething. Pure hate for Hyrule, for Rauru the first king, and all his descendants. That hate was so pure and intense that it basically manifested as Calamity Ganon. The pig cloud. A separate entity born of Ganondorf's sheer spite and hate.

And if you need further proof that they are not the same entity, we need only look to Ganondorf's profile in Tears of the Kingdom, unlocked after completing the game.

Ganondorf had been slowly working on his revival for 100 years INDEPENDENTLY of Calamity Ganon. Link and Zelda just pulled a "wrong place/wrong time" when they found him at the exact moment the seal finally weakened enough to break.

Man what would Ganondorf have done if he broke out of his seal like 5 or 8 years earlier, made his way to the surface, and found pig cloud ganon just up there partying?

[jamiesfootball]

Hiya long time listener first time caller, please can I know everything there is to know about muzzled please and thank you 🙏 🌹

Absolutely! Thank you so much for your ask! I'm very excited for this fic

This is for one of the prompts on my Bad Things Happen Bingo card- 'muzzled'

General content warning under the cut for characters being held hostage/captive at gunpoint. And muzzled, as there is an actual muzzle involved

The captor's plans:

Standard ransom situation, non standard method.

Roy and Jamie have been drugged and taken captive at a hotel. The captors want Roy's money. They have Roy in one room with them, and Jamie in the adjoining room, as collateral.

If Roy plays along and helps them quietly transfer all of his money through the normal, legitimate ways, then at the end of all of this, him and Jamie can go free.

In the meantime, there’s Jamie. Locked up in the other room. As a show of good faith, Roy has 24/7 proof of life - he can see Jamie through a live feed. He can also visit him at certain times throughout the day. He can bring him water and food, and most importantly he can keep him quiet for them. With a muzzle.

But this is a show of good faith. In return, what he cannot do is tell Jamie what is going on. They don't want any conspiring. They don't want any heroics.

If Roy doesn’t play along, if he tries to fight them in any way, they will kill Jamie, and the next one they take will be Phoebe.

Isn’t he grateful they didn’t start with Phoebe? See how reasonable they are?

Now. That is the nightmare that Roy is experiencing. He's being held at gunpoint. Jamie's life depends on his cooperation. He couldn't give a shit at this point about the money, he's just trying to get them out of there alive.

Meanwhile what Jamie is experiencing is even worse because he has no idea what's going on. From his perspective, him and Roy were just gonna spend a few days abroad enjoying a much-needed break in their schedule. Now he's been drugged and chained to a hotel bed and had a muzzle put on his face and had Roy threaten to kill him if he didn't shut up and Roy won't tell him what's going on and he looks so so mad, madder than Jamie's ever seen, fucking wild about the eyes-

-from Jamie's perspective, Roy's snapped and lost his fucking mind.

The first half of the fic will deal with the captivity, and the second half will deal with the fallout.

Again, many thanks for your interest! And for the rose, here is a small snippet to tide you over:

“For your cooperation, perhaps we might leave a little in the account for you. Enough to take an Uber back to the airport. After that? That is between you and your friend. He still has all of his money after all.” That man slapped Roy on the shoulder, a playful jostle as if they were two mates having a laugh. “Surely what you have done for his life will be worth some sort of repayment.”

[tiikerikani]

This is how you write when you're tired

Work is fine I guess. I'm still in a big muddle, tbh. Charging right out of the gate being asked to do the sort of thing that somebody with a lot more experience and a much higher pay grade did at Old Job is... a lot. I've tried out and presented on a couple of different tools and making those presentations was extremely stressful, not because I dislike public speaking, but because I dislike public speaking to persuade on topics that Have Consequences, such as which of those tools to invest in. Both have their pros and cons and I just would like the people to make a decision so I can get on with the actual writing.

Working with the content is the best way to familiarize yourself with it. At Old Job my first assignment was to proofread everything with a fresh set of eyes, and I'm finally getting to do a bit of that now.

Even though I don't need to be at the office every day, the 45-minute commute each way does eat up a lot of hobby time (or more specifically, the transition time that I need to switch between activities). So I'm still struggling to squeeze in the time I want to spend for each thing and end up with decision paralysis and then none of those activities are getting enough time because it's suddenly 4 AM.

4:39 AM Oh shit he's on the front cover of ilta-sanomat today 😳 I read everything else on the cover looking for weather stuff and only noticed after that 😅

[Friend: How were you awake at 4 am? 😳] [Me: Hadn't gone to bed yet]

(the tabloids publish the day's papers to the digital subscription—from which I grab screenshots from the cover thumbnails on the landing page—at around 3 AM.)

So today I am practically asleep standing up. I'd proof/edit like 2 paragraphs and then I'd want to lie down. I tried to at least keep myself at the table by slapping some paint onto models but even that was a struggle. I desperately wanted to just collapse into bed after work but no it just had to be the day I needed to drag myself outside long enough to buy the newspaper.

(I'd love to share the entire cover, but reasons. So this is all you get as proof.)

(Random aside: As of this week, fermented beverages up to 8% ABV can be sold at grocery stores and people are mostly just excited about wine. Wine culture from the continent has been displacing the traditional beer and spirits culture here. Anyway, I don't even drink wine.)

I'm too tired to read the article now (In fact I usually need to be a bit tipsy to read these articles, because the reasons), but I don't expect him to have shared anything new. One wonders if it's the media being fixated on his mental health recovery story (the media sure love a "celebrity breaks down and/or turns their life around" story) or if it's something that he wants.

New keyboard is alive! The coil cable is wholly extra but I sprang for it—pun intended—just because it's fun. The thing is built like a brick and is heavier than the old one. In less space! I even paid less for this than the old gamer keyboard! ("gamer" stuff is pretty overpriced and often overwrought anyway).

When gaming I keep hitting one key over because the old keyboard had a column of macro keys down the side (which I didn't really use anyway). I could rebind all the controls one key over but that would be silly. I'll get used to it. I guess really clicky keys are a gamer thing so I'm also getting used to the significantly lighter touch on these brown switches.

But also, designer keycaps are hecking expensive. And I'd like to get a different set of Swedish/Nordic numbers/letters; the legends on these aren't quite right (it's missing @ on AltGr+2, and * and ' are swapped, among other things).

[princessofxianle]

ANOTHER QUICK QUESTION FROM THE SAME ANON

1. How does Shen Liang feel about Jian Lan and Cuocuo? Feng Xin’s selfless enough to eventually forgive Shen Liang for everything she did to him but with how badly the whole Jian Lan and Cuocuo incident hurt Feng Xin, I can’t imagine him forgiving Shen Liang for mocking him about it, which she most likely would :(. That makes Jian Lan leaving bc she wanted to protect Feng Xin’s reputation even worse…

2. How did Jian Lan feel about Shen Liang? If JL and FX were in love in your AU, I can’t imagine JL liking SL very much. Even though FX would definitely try to make SL seem like a good sister, JL’s not stupid and would figure out that SL treats FX horribly eventually.

for reference: | more asks | meet the OC's | #fx backstory au

It's about time I talked a bit about Jian Lan :)

1. How does Shen Liang feel about Jian Lan and Cuocuo?

Shen Liang actually doesn’t know much about Jian Lan except that she was a face from Xianle when she was alive. And even then, the last time she would’ve seen Jian Lan was when she was young. Shen Liang is 17 years older than Feng Xin (and comparatively so to Jian Lan) so even if both their ghosts were to have met after the fall of Xianle, they wouldn’t recognize each other by face alone.

Additionally, not too long after the events of book 4/flashback arc #2, Shen Liang makes a run for the kiln that ends unsuccessfully (thanks to some random one-eyed nameless ghost) so it’s unlikely she would’ve run into Jian Lan and/or Cuocuo on her own as a ghost at all.

Even Feng Xin himself doesn’t find out about Cuocuo until 800 years later and, well… lets just say at that point he doesn’t even remember he ever had a sister to begin with.

So, in this life, Shen Liang doesn’t know about them. I would like to think, in a world where she incarnates, she would be proud of how hard Feng Xin tried to protect them, even if Jian Lan didn’t want him to. It’s proof that her brother never stopped trying to protect what he loves even if (in his eyes) he kept failing at it.

2. How did Jian Lan feel about Shen Liang?

2. Jian Lan only knows as much about Shen Liang as Feng Xin tells her. Which isn’t much. But Feng Xin alludes enough about his early childhood for her to know his sister’s treatment of him left long lasting effects. But he doesn’t like to talk about it.

Typically, when Feng Xin visits, the stories he tells are about his time in the palace, how much he hates Mu Qing, and how worried he is about Xie Lian and his family in their current state. Especially when Xie Lian goes missing.

In later visits, he’s scared (terrified) to touch her, flinches if she moves her hand too fast near his face, and for some reason actively avoids touching her chest on the few occasions when they do have sex. Mostly he just likes to hold her, back to his chest, promising he’ll protect her until he can get her out of there.  

When Jian Lan decides to kick him out for the last time, she slaps him. Twice. To get the point across. She doesn’t want to, but Jian Lan knows Feng Xin isn’t a man that will ever give up unless explicitly told to. And she knows his priorities should be elsewhere.

Also, I want to make clear that in this AU yes, Feng Xin and Jian Lan do genuinely love each other. Well, as genuine as the times can allow. But, at the end of the day, how can Jian Lan compare to how Feng Xin talks about Xie Lian?

JL: “I know you love me. But you swore your life to him. He needs you more than I do.” FX: “He won’t love me like you do.” JL: “And you won’t love me like you love him. ” FX: “That’s not fair.” JL: “I know. Because you’ll always choose him. So leave. I’m not anyone’s second place. I won’t wait for you to save me from this living hell. How can I even trust that you can? You can’t even figure out a way to save the person you are already sworn to.” FX: “It’s not like that, I can protect you both I…” JL: “Leave.” FX: “What? I…” JL: *slap* “I said LEAVE” FX: *puppy dog eyes* JL: “Leave. And don’t ever come back.”

to be continued...

[einsamerhund]

I LOVE your blog! I recently discovered it and I swear to you: I fell in love with it! I know that the Captain is emotionally insensitive (we have had proof of this in the anime and manga), but how would he behave if he hypothetically became attached to a person and didn't want to let them go? would it be a relationship similar to the one he shares with the major or would it be even more sick, distorted and deep? Would he be similar to a possessive Yandere?

“You are trash, ‘Voman!”

Another one of the officials of the Third Reich at it again; another round of belittling for the surviving few who’d abandoned their homeland for a tactical retreat by order of Herr Major. It was something Hans could easily tolerate for many days, months or years; he had nothing to prove, and all the power to back it up. To that end, he wondered why these men were even allowed to accompany their fantastic ship and join the Letze Battalion. Possibly just to get clear air space…

Regardless of how little he cared for their antics, the old washed up officer was agitating him to no end. Of all the people he could have spit and thrashed about, it was Second Lieutenant Rip Van Winkle. Even if she could have split him into ribbons with her bullet, she was halted from acting so ill to an official. She had to bare the licks she’d receive today

“B-Bitte verzeihen Sie mir, Officer I… ‘vas just off on mein shot, I-“ another slap halted her excuses in the man’s face, practically chewing his brown handlebar mustache to think she’d even utter another word. It didn’t even hurt her, but the shame and fury brought her to tears all the same. He never acted out like this to any other soldier; possibly some deep seeded hatred for a woman on the frontlines…

“Target practice, und you decide to strike down one of MY MEN in ‘ze crossfire?! lächerlich! Ich sollte dich in der Sonne verwelken lassen!” Those words send chills down the huntress’ body as if she were still alive. In her head, that could have been a very real possibility, as she was still so new that Major’s plans were still under tight lock.

By this point, Captain had enough…

Later that night, the man that scolded Frau Winkle so often was out for the night, taking in the humid night air of the Amazon. Him and his crew-mates sung merry war songs and drank ‘til their footsteps were that of a toddlers. He was spent, and excused himself to take a leak near a vacant bush. That was when Captain saw his moment. A permanent sign to those who would challenge the select few of Montana’s chosen soldat.

Shaking off the remaining droplets of piss, the Nazi officer was slow to turn back to the shoddy campfire that his comrades set up, only to see they were no longer there; the air still and eerily quiet.

“Jakob…? Playing tricks on mmme…?” The gravely voiced slurred out before moseying over to the light. Hitting a bump in his stride, he stopped to investigate after slowly turning his head to check the perimeter. He’d had no need to check anymore, as his desperate shriek of terror now filled the jungle— crawling backwards from the sight of a freshly mutilated human soldier. His face was dragged upwards by obvious claw marks to the point that what little remained of his eyeballs nestled cozily into his caved forehead that glistened with freshly exposed sinew and brain matter. Turning his head away, the General then saw the silhouette of snakes; this was soon proven to be an incorrect guess, as looking upward showed the shadowy outline of his last two men impaled upon thick tree branches— the assumed snakes actually their intestines strung out straight from their bleeding stomachs.

In that moment, he was dropped into hell…

Tried as he could to stifle his panic, he clawed toward the distant light of the Dues Ex Machina, desperate to find footing against the influence of his stupor. Those attempts failed as time and time again he tripped and hobbled over every obstacle. Overcome with fear, he cowered in the open dirt path, fully accepting his fate as he prayed to god for his sins; such a disgusting plea from a man of his status. When the General thought all hope was lost, he looked up to see what he believed was his savior in the moonlight. It was Hans.

“AUGH! C-Captain, ‘ve are under attack! Sound ‘ze alarm, call Herr Major, ANYTHING!” He screamed and cried, clasping upon Hans’ Afrika Korps coat for some form of stability in his shaken state. He would soon come to learn that this was the worst possible mistake he’d ever make in his entire life.

Without hesitation, the Lycan gripped the shoulder of the feeble man and easily lifted him three feet off the ground. He quite enjoyed seeing the Nazi’s face turn from relief to plummeting dread as he came to realize Hans wasn’t intending on saving him. He loved being the hunter, invigorating the memories of his past and perhaps indulging the moment far too much. The mans wrinkled hands reached out to resist Hans’ second hand looming toward his neck, only to see them slip right through as it shifted into a claw of voluminous white mist. Like a ghost possessing a weak-willed body, the general watched on as the claw phased through his neck, and the clawed fingers clasped inside. And with a single puff of silver smoke, Hans reformed his hand, and burst a hole in his prey’s neck like a balloon where his wrist rested inside.

And with one fell swoop, Derr Hund degloved the cowards body with the firm tug of his vertebra…

Seeing the freshly exposed steaming guts litter the floor before his boots filled him with the same joy a child would find from crushing an anthill; It was the mess he loved, most. But more importantly, it was the fact that he’d put a wallowing swine in their place. If this was an attack on Major, Hans would have simply popped a fresh round in their skulls from his Mauser, the way Max liked it best. But the oozing remains of this general had chosen to tear down someone The Captain had considered innocent and beaming with a joy so sorely lacking amongst their rank. Hans would never admit it, but he cared for Rip in a way he couldn’t for his commander officer or fellow soldiers; a fondness he would never outwardly admit to anyone else. But he did realize now, very clearly that if anyone were to trfile with Frau Winkle ever again…?

Tod…

[goron-king-darunia]

Slapping in some of the info Aery gave me in regards to this!

“[... ] the Aster body Ratatosk made is a copy pasta of Aster, Emil and Tenebrae are unreliable sources of information, I would go into it but tech not on my side to explain jack all. Technically yes Ratatosk can age things but it would not be accurate as our environment and own self care influences that. Ratatosk in that moment though wouldn't have been able to regardless. There's something up with that copy pasta because Ratatosk is reluctant to just make himself a new vessel, likely the old one would dissipate if he did. Likely an excuse to better maintain Richter's body when burning his mana for the door. The jewel on [M]artas forehead is proof of Tenebrae being an unreliable source (among other things) And Emil is proven by how fucking Gullible he is, I don't think I gotta list it. Kid doesn't rub two braincells too often, he mostly regurgitates what others say.” And:

“The overarching theme of the game is Ratatosk learning to forgive himself, accept what [occurred], and find his kindness and love for mortals again. Game fails on the last point [IMO] but it nails it out of the park with Ratatosk at the very least coming to Respect and care about Emil. But also most of Ratatosk[’s] power sets is everything Mana manipulation and Sensing, with that meta bonus of World Code manipulation. He's just not very useful without his centurions and pact web in place because he split his power up thusly to regulate the world's mana. Hence why full monster book caught+ leveled, all centurions attributes turned on = ain soph aur crashing the game if countered with eternal recurrence. I may not be allowed to mega dissertate on squirrel lord, BUT ILL CLIFF NOTES THE FUCK OUTTA IT”

So basically, trusted expert on Ratatosk Aery says that theoretically Ratatosk could age his vessel but it wouldn’t be accurate because age is at least in part a product of how we take care of our bodies. An Aster who sunburrns the shit out of himself from the ages of 16 to 30 is going to look way different than an Aster who gets slathered in sunscreen because Richter forces him to take care of his skin when each of them reach age 60.

But the likely reason he’s not aging his form in DotNW is mostly because he didn’t need to, and when it became more of a pain to keep that form than a help, i.e. end game/post game, he has bigger fish to fry, i.e. keeping Richter alive in Door Jail and rewriting the entire way the planet works. Theoretically if he could or could afford to spend the resources changing his form back to his original or other preferred form, he would be doing it by the time the game is over. Once all the centurions are awake and the monsters are pacted and he’s over powered, he wouldn’t need to keep Aster’s form as a disguise. At least that’s how I’m reading it! So that’s the expert opinion!

And here’s why the expert can’t be with us in their own words: (Reaction gif included. XD)

“Tumblr nerfs me because it knows. It knows I contain the deep lore.”

Aery is being censored. Probably for word count or some other glitch. Or because of how block text works. Or because Tumblr is a dysfunctional web site. Either way. This is what I got out of resident Ratatosk expert. If I made a mistake I will fix. But his is the improved understanding I was able to get off of Aery Cliff Notes.

Anon-enthusiastic-about-Richter here (but no longer anon)

I should probably replay the game before deep diving on details like this, but there is something about Emil that confuses me -

So, as part of Rata, he took the body of Aster when Aster was 16, yeah? And in current times, Emil is said to be 16. Does that imply he cannot age? Essentially being frozen in time within another person's body, at the moment of their death :') talk about a ghost from the past.

Also, would you happen to have a link to where I could read the Aster + Richter manga in English? 👉👈

Sorry for the late reply! I figured it was you after seeing you digging through all the good Richter stuff on my blog!

To be honest, I should also replay the game soon too because I've gotten confused about some lore too. But as for Emil, I don't think that's the case. From what I know of the timeline, Richter and Aster met Ratatosk 2 years before the start of the game, when Richter was 18 and Aster was 16. Richter beat Ratatosk so hard he turned into a core and Tenebrae took that core. Richter and Aqua found Solum's core and used it to brainwash Brute and took over the Vanguard and militarized it, changing it from a charity to a major powerhouse faction. But this was mostly to get enough warm bodies out looking for Tenebrae so they could find Ratatosk's core. All of this apparently took 2 or so years. Maybe a year and a half. It seems like fairly soon after getting Ratatosk's core, Brute organized the Blood Purge to root out dissenters. So when Marta frees Tenebrae and wakes up Ratatosk, which leads to Emil being created and Aster's form being used.

The logic of the game lore. is that Ratatosk needed to blend in with humanity in order to recover, so he created his new form based on the last human he remembered seeing, which was Aster at age 16. Therefore, 2 years later, Emil's form is a recreation of that. Aster at age 16. The rest of the game where we start playing takes place about 6 months after the Blood Purge. So the youngest Emil could look is 16 and a half and the oldest he could look, assuming Aster was a day away from turning 17 when he died, would be 17 and a half. So the age range is really small. But the point is he would only look 6 months older than Aster himself would have looked if he had continued to age from age 16.

It's possible we're meant to interpret this as Emil/Ratatosk being unable to age or change form in a way that would resemble mortal aging. But I think the more likely explanation is that even if Ratatosk had considered trying to look older, it would be such a minor consideration to not even be worth the effort or, because Aster never reached age 18, it simply would not have been possible for him to predict what Aster would have looked like in 2 years.

The way I interpret it is that Ratatosk basically constructed a "mortal-looking" vessel so that he could blend in with humans and recover and to do that he just copied Aster's form. So he theoretically could age, he just doesn't get a chance to because he's only hiding in Luin for 6 months before Tenebrae and Richter and Marta show up.

So it isn't exactly that he's frozen in time, but he is picking a form that is an exact replica from Aster just before he died. So while Emil's journal in game suggests that Ratatosk picked the form at random because Aster just happened to be the last human he saw, I can definitely see Richter interpreting this as animosity on Ratatosk's part. We have no way of knowing because Ratatosk himself never explicitly says WHY he picked Aster's form. Maybe he really did want to give Richter maximum heartache. Maybe Emil is right and it was completely by chance. Maybe the only consideration was "pick a human that I can successfully impersonate" and Aster was the most recent dead person. Maybe Ratatosk knew he would be safer impersonating someone that Richter wouldn't want to hurt.

If we're meant to take the journal as canon and we want to believe Emil, it really was just happenstance. But there's interesting implications that can be explored in fanfic. But we never get an explanation if Ratatosk's form can age or change without him dying or changing it himself. The game never gives us a long enough canonical timeframe to see if Ratatosk and Emil are capable of aging. Or if they can grow facial hair. Or if Richter can. There's just game logic there of "we don't need to model that and no one will ask so..."

So as far as I know, it's free real-estate. Maybe he can age and the game just didn't give us enough time. Maybe he can't age and Richter's going to be stuck in the Ginnungagap for 900-1000 years with an ageless copy of Aster. Who knows? But it's juicy to think about.

As for the manga! It's called Onshuu no Richter. As far as I know, it's not hosted anywhere. But my partner @actualaster has a masterpost with links to download the chapters and the full work both raw and translated! Here's the link for ya!

It still breaks my heart to this day. I hope you enjoy!

Also I'm gonna tag the resident Ratatosk expert @aerypear just in case they know something about Ratatosk's ability or inability to age his form.

[imayanderesimp]

Tw:dubcon Tw:past noncon tw:past abuse tw:enji being a asshole tw:somnophilia

reader is implied to be female

felt like i should clarify this bc it just hit me puppygirl!reader isn’t an actual dog or a beastars type situation she’s like a human but with puppy dog ears and a tail.

MINORS BEWARE

pls pls put your age in your bio so i can tell your not i minor because i will block you if i can’t find any proof your an adult

Just imagine endeavor with a small little puppy girl like he’s this big 6ft figure and then you’ve got a little 4ft puppy girl next to him. The public would be all over it trying to get pictures of puppy girl reader and endeavor together. Of course enji and puppy!girls relationship wasn’t always this way…

Pre redemption enji : he treated puppygirl!reader so badly. He’d yell at her and pull on her little dog ears sentence her to her cage. Honestly if enji was really being serious he just wanted to use you from breeding purposes. Sometimes puppy reader couldn’t keep up with enji half the time she would end up passing out during their sessions. But he keep going he wanted you to have a baby so bad, but it never worked. And endeavor could never figure out why, but all your puppy brain remember is getting a pill everyday from the white haired woman.

Soon enough enji forgot about you and only focused on train shoot and becoming number 1 dropping you in a little room that was kinda like a dog house. He forgot to feed you so his children and Rei would do it a lot soon enough it seemed only fuyumi and natsou would feed you and that was a rare chance.

Post redemption enji -

I’m the family dinner scene between endeavor and natsou he reminds him that he left you in a room alone for years now. And endeavor just sits they’re like “huh”because he forgot about you so natsou sitting there wants to slap his father in the face but just take ps a piece of paper and writes directions and says follow it.

Enji find the room and sees you. You look so tired like you haven’t seen the light of life in days. Enji tilts up your head and sees you look super sleepy but all you do in turn over and sleep. So he grabs you and takes you to his room you’ve been in that room for to long. In the morning enji finds it so cute when your pawing at his window at the sunlight your little tail wagging at the sight.

Enji had never seen you this happy before you just felt empty looked empty. So he decided to get a cute little dog bed for you in his office and leave you some nice food to make up for his past actions. He playing catch with you the other day of course you were catching the ball with your mouth. Wouldn’t you know in a few months you were the happiest dog alive in the household.

Now a certain time came along the enji wasn’t expecting. Fuyumi has told him you weren’t feeling well so enji went to check on you, only find that your humping the floor and all the pillows look soaked. Poor little puppy girl, just was so horny without him. You started pawing on his leg you craved him right now you needed him right now.

So now enji is here fucking your tight little cunt. You’ve gone for 3 organisms now and every time his cock gets deeper and deeper in your hole. You were drunk off his cock right now and if enji stops for a tiny break then you’ll do the job yourself.

So you continued for idk the rest of the night until you finally passed out

You can tell this is my first time going into writing smut

[jbreenr]

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale × Reader

Summary: You wanted to meet Ransom's family, he wanted to make sure you'd never want it again.

Word count: 3k.

Warning: Poorly written smut (+18 only, please), public sex (prompt 11), fingering, unprotected sex (don't do that, kids. be responsible), a bit of dirty talk, the Thrombeys being the Thrombeys. And I think that's it.

A/N: So, after finding out one of my stories was stolen an translated in Wattpad, I did not know if I should post this just yet but, what the hell? Let's do it. Anyway, this is for @stargazingfangirl18 and @navybrat817 's Shameless Hoes for Chris Challenge so, happy belated birthday! Yaaay. 🥳 Hope you like this at least a little and that it's not as bad as my paranoid brain thinks it is. Also, I just love how the prompts fit perfectly together, don't you? As always, lack of vocabulary and grammatical mistakes abound. *apologizes in español*

Wheel results (just attaching evidence):

ᴹʸ ᵍⁱᶠ

Draining, tedious, exasperating. Those were some of the adjectives Ransom associated with Thrombey family reunions. He'd arrive late, have some sort of conversation with his grandfather and leave early to do whatever that took him away from that big house.

Today though, he had a reason to stay for more than half an hour.

If it was up to him, you two would have stayed at home, happy, relaxed, and most importantly, naked in his bed, having a more pleasant time than the one you were most likely about to have. 

He tried to persuade you. Of course he did! But your insistence and puppy eyes made it impossible for him to say no to your request. 

So, here you were, getting out of his car, cake in sweaty hands and an excited smile on your lips, an expression so different from Ransom's, who seemed to be ready to get back behind the wheel and drive straight to Canada.

He didn't knock; he simply opened the door and held it for you to enter. If the three floor house was imposing from the outside, you felt impressed by the inside. Extravagant sculptures, apparently expensive paintings and other kinds of pieces of art were scattered everywhere, telling you just how wealthy and eccentric Ransom's family were. 

“That's Harlan Thrombey! ” You exclaimed as you stood in front of the portrait of your forever favorite author holding a knife and a book.

“So?” Ransom asked, unconcerned.

You turned to him open-mouthed, the cake almost slipping off your palms as you went to playfully slap him in the arm.

“How come you are related to Harlan Thrombey and you didn't tell me?” Your question was more of a shock than an accusation.

The carefree gesture he did with his shoulders only accentuated his next words. “I did not think you would be interested in knowing.”

“I wouldn’t be interested?” Incredulity, flowing out of your lips. “He’s the best thriller author of all time! He’s like today’s Edgar Allan Poe!”

To say that you didn't believe him was an understatement. He knew for a fact that you liked Harlan Thrombey's books, just taking a look at the bookshelf in your apartment was proof enough of that.

“We call him grandpa here.” Said a femenine voice. A brunette walked in your direction, her pretty features hardening as she looked at your boyfriend. “Don't we, Hugh?”

He seemed to be ready to say something but decided not to. Instead he inhaled and placed his hand on your back.

“This is Y/N, the only reason I’m not telling you what you need to hear right now.”

Her eyes rolled in irritation and then turned to you. “I’m Meg. Let's introduce you to the rest of the family, shall we?.” And she dragged you to the room where more people were gathered together, discussing something, not before sending a deadly glare at Ransom.

Given the distance between you and him, you didn't listen to the heavy sigh he let out before waking behind.

“Everyone!” Meg called, making everyone leave whatever they were doing to look at her –and you, in consequence. “Meet Y/N, Hugh's new friend.” She then proceeded to introduce every single member of the family, including the housekeeper and the nurse, except for the grandfather, who apparently had a moment of inspiration and left them momentarily to put his ideas on paper.

None of them left their seat to go and shake your hand except for Meg's energetic mom, who hugged you and expressed how much she loved your coat even though it was soooo last season.

Sitting on a couch next to Ransom, you half expected someone to ask you about how you two met or how long had you been dating or what was it that you did for a living. Nothing. As fast as their attention was on you, it fell from you to their previous discussion.

You now understood why Ransom jokingly suggested deep cleaning the house instead of attending that reunion.

What you weren't aware of, Ransom thought, was that all of them were behaving wonderfully compared to previous times.

You didn't know if you felt more disappointed or uncomfortable. Ransom had left your side to go to the studio for a second and you had barely had any interaction with his family. All of them, dipped in their own matters to even notice your presence. 

Fran, the housekeeper, was kind enough to take the cake to the kitchen and offer you a glass of water, but after giving it to you, she disappeared along with Meg and the nurse. 

“So,” All at once, the room went quiet as Ransom's uncle spoke. “Have you read any of dad's books, Y/N?” Only until you heard your name was that your head snapped up.

“Oh, uhm… yeah. I'm a big fan.” Taken by surprise, you simply answered.

“Really? Which one have you read?”

And to that question, you felt suddenly included in the conversation since you had knowledge of the topic.

“I'm like fifty pages from finishing 'The Needle Game' and intrigue is eating me alive.” As you heard the excitement in your voice, you tried to compose yourself and said “Though 'Nick Of Time' is my favorite.” You smiled at him, hoping that your answer was a good one.

The woman that was introduced to you as Ransom's mother nodded as she licked her lips. The light of the fireplace, reflecting on her glasses as she moved her head up and down.

“Have you read 'Ultimatum' or 'Drop In The Pocket', dear?” Her tone was curious, but the look on her face said differently.

You responded anyway. “They're not bad. I feel like the ending of 'Drop In The Pocket' was a little vague and out of line but it can always be interpreted as an open ending so…” The change in their expressions told you that you had to add something else to that answer. Maybe it was not time for literature humor yet. “But I enjoyed both.”

She hummed and took her drink, detaching from the talk that continued with courtesy questions until it morphed into a heated discussion between Ransom's father and uncle, who would repeatedly ask for your opinion to back up his own.

The discomfort you felt, dispelled to be replaced by the disturbance of being bombarded with dozens of questions at a time, each louder than the other until they changed to a completely different topic to which you were occasionally included as a neutral point of view.

“She knows what she's talking about!” Said Richard at some point when you confirmed one of his arguments. “Thank you, dear.”

Ransom came back from his obligatory argument with his grandfather to find you nowhere to be seen. 

“She's using the bathroom.” Informed Jacob, who did not take his eyes off of his cellphone. 

Thinking that you went there to hide, he started his way to your potential direction until an overheard observation from his mother stopped him halfway through. 

“… Did you hear how she talked about dad's work? Oh, I assure you she won't make it to next week with Ransom.”

Her and Richard's backs were to him, both of them unaware that their son was listening to their share of opinions.

“And did you see her hands?” Joni joined the criticism contest. “She could use some moisturizer, I tell you.”

As usual, they ignored her attempt to fit in and kept going.

“I know it's contradictory to say this,” Richard paused, as to make his point clear. “But he could do better.”

Despite their whispering, Ransom heard every single word and was glad that you were not there to see what was about to happen… 

Ransom's words stuck on his throat when he saw you making your way out of the bathroom, fixing the skirt of your dress, with such niceness and warmth directed to him as you smiled, oblivious to the fact that the people you were trying to get to like you weren't going to. 

His parents were right. He could do better. He could determine to not see them ever again and it would be the best thing to happen to him… Besides you, obviously.

“What's wrong?” Your concern was evident, just as his annoyance was undeniable.

Cold hands caressed his cheeks and Ransom thought of going back to Joni and tell her to fuck off. Your touch was soft, comforting, and gave him the greatest idea he'd ever had.

“I want to show you something.” Was his answer. It was better if you were the one who decided to never step on that house for the rest of your lives. It didn't matter if it was out of embarrassment.

Taking your hand in his, he guided you up the stairs to the first landing. The creaking sound of the old structure, probably alerting everyone in the other room that you were going to the next floor.

“Are you okay?” The sweet giggle that you let out when he abruptly stopped, almost making him feel bad about what he was seconds away from doing. 

“Better than ever.” And he stamped his lips to yours. 

Taken aback, it took you a second to respond. Hands on each side of his face as his own explored your body. When his fingers lifted your dress to caress your ass cheeks was when you ended the kiss. 

“What are you doing?” You asked in a breathless whisper. “Not that I'm complaining.”

You were cornered against the wall with Ransom towering in front of your smaller frame.

Trying to escape from whatever he had in mind was useless, you knew that much. Though, you were not sure if you really wanted to escape.

“What I've been wanting to do ever since you got a shower without me this morning.” His lips found your jaw and descended to your neck where he sucked to create a bruise. Your eyes closed to the sensation.

“Wait. No, wait.” His fingertip that had started rubbing your still clothed bud paused it's motions as his eyes focused back on your face. “We can't do it. Not here.”

Ransom's finger went back to work, bringing a soft moan that you tried to suppress. “Why not? No one's gonna come here.” His other hand moved up your thigh to lift it. “Even if they did, they wouldn't notice.”

With an expert swing of his wrist, he moved your panties aside, letting the cold air that wandered inside the house hit you before his skilled middle finger entered you while still managing to rub your clit in circles with his thumb.

Adrenaline ran through your veins, fuel activating every nerve in your body and shaking away fear from your brain, replacing it with lust and boldness.

“I'm blaming you if we get caught.” Your hips jolted forward wanting to feel more of his hand, the contradiction between your words and actions, making him smirk.

He added a second finger. Knuckles deep and his cold ring slowly warming against the inside of your thigh, he said, “I'll take responsibility, sweetheart.” Pumping his fingers in and out, he felt your slick running down the back of his hand to his wrist, wetting his overly expensive watch and the cuff of his cozy sweater .“But I can't assure you we won't get caught.”

His words, instead of working as a bucket of cold water as one would expect, increased your need to be touched by him, the yearning for him to take you right there and then. 

“Damn it, Ransom.” One of your hands flew to his shoulder to hold onto him for dear life. “I'm close.”

“You're not cumming unless I'm inside you, pretty thing.” At what point did he unfasten his belt and unzipped his trousers, you had no idea. The friction of his digits was gone in a second but the feeling of his already leaking tip rubbing against your most sensitive parts was enough to make you forget about those trifles.

Your lips opened, ready to tell him to keep his voice down when he suddenly thrusted home, stretching you out so deliciously that you had to cover your mouth to muffle the moan that threatened to inform everyone of your current activities.

Ransom's breathing hitched. Being inside you was a dream come true, feeling your walls enveloping his cock so fucking good… it was like you were made for each other, and he was going to prove it, even if his family didn't really get to know.

His hips started moving. Back and forth, back and forth. Delicately at first, letting you adjust to his size but the second he felt you throbbing around him, he increased the pace. Little by little his pounds gained power and energy.

Your whimpers –stuck in your throat, leaving only soft snuffles that crashed against Ransom's cheek, soon became more rapid, erratic and as his fingers dug in the flesh of your thigh to keep you still while he accommodated to go even deeper you heard a creaking noise.

Your boyfriend's blue eyes met yours, his movements never faltering despite the alert given by the dark wooden floor under your feet.

There was a conflict in your head, and Ransom could tell. The way you tightened and the pleading look on your face told different stories, yet Ransom knew they had the same ending.

Shaking your head, your eyes asked him not to do it, but you knew Ransom well enough to be sure that not even begging could stop him. 

“You love it, don't you?” His smile grew bigger as his change of position allowed him to hit your sweet spot on and on, ripping high pitched whines from you and obligating you to close your eyes. “The thought of getting caught. The image of someone seeing how good I make you feel.” The placement of his foot, making the landing creak repeatedly each time he pushed up accompanying every word. “Fuck, you're talking me so well. Such a dirty girl, uh.”

His big hand yanked the strap of your dress down, exposing your left boob. Your already hard nipple was soon attacked by Ransom's fingertips. He'd pinch and twist it slightly, just enough to make your back arch in search of his touch.

Pleasure was overflowing your senses, you could feel your heart thudding in your ears and your legs losing strength. Your hand left your mouth to grip at the back of Ransom's neck to keep you from falling.

The sight of your lower lip trapped between your teeth didn't please Ransom. In other circumstances, he would've let you stay that way, as quiet as possible so no one would walk on you. This time though, it was his intention to rip the most delicious sounds from your lips so you thought of the possibility of his family listening.

And so, he lent to kiss you, passion and desire transmitted through his breath. His tongue asked for a permission that was not really required, but as you let it in, Ransom took the opportunity to bite down your lip.

With your lips forcefully parted and Ransom's restless hand traveling back to your bundle, you had no other option than to moan with each quick circle his digits drew.

A series of laughs and undistinguished words were heard from a distance. Both Ransom and you turned to see what they were about, stopping in your tracks with him still buried deep inside your needy cunt.

“Guess dinner's ready.” Unbothered about the information he just gave, he hid his face in the crook of your neck and resumed his movements.

A shaky oh, fuck fell from your lips as you felt the familiar knot in your stomach forming. Your head flew back, hitting the wall with a soft thud. 

“Careful. We don't want to be obvious, do we?” You knew you were about to explode, and by the way your walls were clenching and your trembling body tried to separate from him, Ransom knew as well. “Let go, sweetheart.” A roar erupted from him as he felt you tightening around his length. “Cum for me.”

With a last, powerful thrust of his hips, you let out a silent scream. The coil snapped, making you see a kaleidoscope of colors behind your eyelids and listen to a loud ring in your ears. 

Ransom followed right after, cursing as he finished inside of you, coating you with every last drop and making sure everything would stay there.

He slid out, leaving you with a feeling of emptiness as he zipped his trousers and took a step back to let you fix your appearance.

You managed to accommodate your dress just in time for Ransom's family to walk out of the room they were in to see you. Your agitated breathing and blushed cheeks, getting everyone's attention. 

“Are you okay, dear?” Ransom's dad asked.

“She's fine.” Your boyfriend answered for you. “She's feeling a little sick. I better take her home.” He took you by the hand and helped you down the stairs to the door, which you thanked. Had he not done it, you would have tripped taking the first step.

“But she hasn't met grandpa yet.” Meg noted, furrowing her brows.

“It'll be next time.” And with that, Ransom took you out of the house and in the passenger seat of his car without giving anyone the chance to say goodbye.

When you were at a considerable distance, you sighed, letting out the air you didn't know you were holding.

“Just so you know, there won't be a next time.” You informed him, against your want to meet his grandfather.

“Why not?” He asked with a chuckle, already knowing the answer. 

“Cause embarrassment won't let me come back in the near future.”

Behind an eye roll and a tap on your thigh, Ransom hid the triumphant grimace his perfectly carried out plan gave him.

[jedifarmerr]

Wasteland Series (Fallout AU)

Post-Apocalyptic Frankie x F! Reader

Word Count: 3.4K

Rating: R/E (18+)

Warnings: Language, nightmares, guns, mutant animals & bugs, food/eating, little bit of angst, post-nuclear war.

Series Masterlist

Chapter 4: Creatures Of The Land.

They stopped for the night at the first place they could find with an intact roof and four sturdy walls. 

The Red Rocket Truck Stop. 

It was around two klicks from where they fought the ghouls, and she didn’t say a word the entire time. But neither did they. 

They cleared out a windowless storage closet that smelled like dust and dry rot mops and she didn’t even remark. Instead, she remained silent as the grave. She shut the door without looking at them. 

Afterwards, Benny and Santi double-checked every corner of the interior while Frankie and Will silently searched the perimeter. Nothing other than a few rad-ants that met the end of a bullet. 

By the time Frankie plopped down on a squeaky, metal chair, the moonlight was spilling through the windows onto the black and white store tile. 

There was tension in the air. It was thick and surging up and down the aisles cluttered with molded snack packs, expired chip bags, and souvenir magnets. 

They had been caught off-guard. And nobody liked being caught off-guard. Encountering ghouls wasn’t exactly uncommon, but they’d spent the last few days exploring and clearing the area. He thought they could at least go a few miles without being attacked by an angry mob of undead. 

Santi was the first to break the silence. He hoisted himself onto the checkout counter and said, “Well that didn’t go well.” 

“It could’ve gone worse.” Will slumped down in the rusty diner chair beside Frankie, then unlaced his boots. “She’s alive. Besides, I don’t know what else we could’ve done.” 

“Are you serious? We should’ve warned her, man.” Benny stared out at the gas pumps strangled by vines. “I knew we should’ve warned her.” 

Frankie immediately heard Will’s jaw click. Uh-oh. 

“Yeah? So, why didn’t you?” Will nudged his little brother. Abruptly, Benny turned to him with a spiky jaw. 

“What’d you say?”

“Look, in her room, you could’ve told her,” Will said. “But instead, you were in there talking about ice cream and Italy-”

“I was trying to make her feel comfortable.” 

“Comfortable? Oh! That’s great.” Will slapped his hands against his thighs. “Let’s make sure the Vault-Tec girl feels right at home.” 

“Fuck you, she didn’t ask for this.” 

“Yeah, and how do you know that?” Will didn’t give Benny time to answer before saying, “You need to watch yourself with her.”

“All of us do.” Santi stood up. His tone was much softer than Will’s. It appeared he was trying to de-escalate the situation before shit hit the fan. “I feel bad for her too, believe me. But we still gotta be careful with this.”

Benny glanced over at Frankie. He looked almost apologetic. He bowed his head – a subtle nod of agreement. 

“We’re taking tomorrow off,” Santi said, and everyone agreed it would be best to give her some time to process. Give them time to clear their heads. 

Then, they could get back on the road. 

———-

One day had somehow become nine, and counting. 

For the first three days, she barely left her room. They only really saw her when she needed to use the bathroom. She’d snatched the food outside her door like a stray cat when no one was looking. For the most part, it went untouched aside from the dried fruit. 

Finally, she came out on the fourth day. During a rowdy card game, she’d slowly made her way out of the storage closet and joined them. After that, she’d emerged more and more – bit by bit. 

Most of the time, she hung around Benny. Not surprising. In the past, stragglers had always latched onto Benny. Good ole Benjamin with his school boy charm, easy smiles and goofy-ass laugh. He was convinced of her innocence, even without any concrete proof. 

I just know. I got a gut feeling about it. 

Benny’s intuition appeared to be enough to start swaying Pope. Will still seemed hesitant, though. And of course, Frankie was stationary. He was like a boulder or a bull. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Benny’s judgment, usually he did without question. But he wondered how clear Benny’s head was in this situation. 

Unlike other stragglers, she was…attractive. At times, she could be funny. Even so, she still annoyed the piss out of him. She was always picking fights over stupid shit like what beans were better or how to correctly pronounce Bugles – a snack he’d never had and never would. She poked and poked and poked at him until he’d snap, then she’d smile and laugh and flutter her long lashes. All innocent, but unlike Benny, he didn’t buy it. 

This entire thing felt like a ticking time bomb. He was just waiting for it to blow up in his face. He didn’t know when or how or why. 

He just knew it was inevitable. 

—-

It’d been eleven days since they found her. Eleven days at the damn Red Rocket Truck Stop. 

With every day that passed, Frankie felt more and more like a sitting duck. He was just waiting for something or someone to attack. He was on edge and bored out of his mind. In fact, he’d taken to memorizing the prices of snacks and soda and even gas pump dials – twelve bucks for premium unleaded and fifteen for diesel. At least, it gave his mind something to do. 

Currently, Santi and him were lounging outside in a set of gingham lawn chairs they’d stumbled upon while searching a nearby shed for supplies. The sun was warm against his skin, his face. It was peaceful. Until she came barreling out of the storefront like a bat out of hell. 

“I need to use the bathroom.” 

“Not it,” Santi said before he could – asshole. 

“Where’s Benny? Or Will?” Frankie didn’t open his eyes, his face still tipped towards the sun. 

“Napping. Now come on.” 

When he didn’t immediately jump up, she started to throw a tantrum, “Frankie,” she whined, fussing and stomping her foot on the asphalt. She was giving him a headache. 

Frankie snatched his gun from the makeshift side table – an empty barrel – and shoved another gun into the back of his waistband before escorting her bratty ass to the bathroom. It was a quarter mile south, a pit latrine because she couldn’t just be easy and find a spot behind a tree. He supposed a hole in the ground beat cleaning out a bucket. 

“Don’t take long,” he grunted before she slammed the door. 

Like always, Frankie remained on-watch. Directly behind the single-stall bathroom was the mouth of what used to be a hiking trail. There were too many trees for his liking. Too many hiding spots. When his eyes flickered to the overgrown brush, there was a flash of something dark in the weeds. It was gone in a blink. 

With his safety off, he cautiously inched across the cracked sidewalk. He didn’t hear anything, so he hoped it was just a floater from staring into the sun too long. 

Boom. 

Startled, Frankie spun around as she burst through the door. The metal slammed against the shabby brick wall and it was just fucking her. 

She must’ve realized she scared him because she smirked. “Everything alright, Frankie?” 

He grunted in response. He was about to lecture her on making too much noise until a faint buzz came from behind him. He knew it wasn’t just his tinnitus flaring up when her brows furrowed. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a black mass. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. He rushed towards her as the noise grew louder. “Stay behind me,” he ordered before lightly shoving her into the metal door. She didn’t yell or curse or complain. She actually listened. It seemed like the only time she listened was when they were in danger. 

A pack of angry bloatflies surfaced from the field. 

“Holy shit - are those flies?” she asked as the bugs flew towards them. The fuckers were fast and never traveled in group of less than five or six. Bloatflies weren’t his least favorite creature, but they were definitely a bigger nuisance than their microscopic counterparts. 

He took out the leader – the one in front. A single bullet through its netted-eyes and the horse fly broke apart like a popped bubble. Five left. 

He went to aim at the next largest one when it fired its own projectile from its stinger. The translucent glob throttled through the air. 

“Duck!” he commanded and luckily, she obeyed. The toxin hit the metal door with a steaming hiss. 

After that, she seemed completely content in his shadow as he whittled down the pack until there was only one left. He pulled the trigger, but it clicked – empty. 

Before he could wrestle out the gun in his waistband, two bullets whizzed past his ear. One right after the other. The first one missed, but the second one nailed the bug right in its lumpy neck with a splat. 

Frankie cupped his ringing ear and abruptly turned around. 

She waved the gun in his face with a self-satisfied grin. “You’re welcome,” she said as if she’d beat him. 

“You could’ve killed me.” He snatched the gun from her hands and shoved it back into his waistband. 

She rolled her eyes, then shouldered past him. “I know what I’m doing.” 

Clearly. She wasn’t too bad, either, but he was not about to admit that. Instead he said, “That’s why it took two shots.” 

“That was my first time shooting a living thing, so I’d call that a success.” 

“Whatever you wanna tell yourself.” He wouldn’t feed her ego, no matter how impressed he was. 

“Well, now that you know I can shoot, can I get my gun back?” 

Over his dead body. “What do you think?” 

Just then, Santi showed up at the top of the hill. “What’s going on? Are you two alright?” 

“Yep! Thanks to me. I just saved Frankie’s life.” She tauntingly nudged Frankie in the shoulder before running ahead to tell Santi the story. 

Frankie felt his temples starting to throb. He already knew she would never let him forget the time she rescued him. 

—

After two weeks at the Red Rocket, they were finally back on the road. 

She had claimed his spot, next to Benny. And the two of them hadn’t shut up since reaching Concord. Benny had practically forced into a tour of the town with his insistent, “What was that? What used to be there?” 

A bank. A museum about the Revolutionary War. Pinelli’s Bakery – best chocolate croissant you’ll ever taste. 

Despite himself, Frankie caught his gaze following along with her finger, flipping between buildings deteriorated with weather and war and neglect. It’d taken them nearly a week to clear this place of ghouls. He wondered how many of them attended the Fourth of July parade that she was talking about. 

On the way up a hill, Frankie found himself perfectly eye-level with her ass. For a second, he watched her hips sway with every step before looking away. He cursed the heat and this hill and her stupidly, sinfully tight vault suit. 

They stopped for a late lunch on the outskirts of Concord, near a mossy brook with two toppled over oak trees acting as benches. Will tossed everyone a can of beans from his pack. Frankie could tell by her grimace that she was tired of eating the same meal. 

“Something wrong?” Frankie challenged her and she squinted at him. She sternly shook her head before guzzling down a large helping. 

“Delicious.” She licked the brown juice from her lips. His eyes tracked the movement – his jaw clenched. 

“Oh shit, look.” Benny pointed downstream at where a two-headed deer was lapping up a drink. Its four antlers were submerged in green algae as fine as hair. 

“Pope, is that a radstag?” Yeah – she’d started calling him Pope. 

“Sure is.” Santi grinned. Once the radstag spotted the group, it immediately fled into the trees. It was a gentle, skittish giant. 250 pounds of harmless, patchy fur. 

“How about you tell me more about that family farm of yours?” She nudged Santi. 

Frankie tensed, the bark under his ass felt like spikes. He didn’t like talking about home with her. He didn’t like them talking about Sanctuary with her. 

Luckily, Santi didn’t offer too many details, mostly focusing on the two-headed cows and wingless, naked chickens. She was enjoying it so much that Benny decided to give her a biology lesson. 

“Will, tell her the cave story.” All it took was a little begging and three sets of puppy-dog eyes before Will folded and rolled up his sleeve to show her the jagged scar that ran from his forearm up to his bicep. A cricket bite. Frankie swallowed a laugh when he noticed the horror and disgust on her face after she learned crickets could grow to the same size as a small dog. 

It didn’t take long before Benny was eyeing Frankie. Tell her about the bear. The slow chant of his name quickly caught on and God – he hated this stupid story. 

Just like Will, he gave in. But he didn’t lift up his shirt to show her the gnarly scar on his back from the 800-pound black bear attack. 

It was from years ago – they’d found a bottle of three-century old apple whiskey and got wasted. He’d been an idiot. He hadn’t been thinking when he wandered off from base camp to take a piss. Late at night, he couldn’t see what was lurking in the bushes until it was almost too late. 

He would’ve been eaten alive, clean picked to the bone – if not for Tom, who showed up just in time to save him. 

—

Right after lunch, the group stumbled upon two separate packs of bloatflies. You watched the guys dispose of them easily. The bugs didn’t even get a shot off. 

You overheard Santi and Will worrying about ammo. Even though they had enough 10 MM and 7.62’s, they were down to a box of .45’s and a handful of shotgun shells. You decided to be nice and point them in the direction of a nearby gun shop. The building was slightly crooked, but the roof was intact. Hopefully some of the bullets could be salvaged despite being two centuries old. In an emergency, you supposed, a hang fire was better than nothing. 

Inside, you debated snatching a gun from the wall, just a small, lilac pocket pistol for protection, but Frankie never let you out of his sight. Sometimes, it seemed like he could read your mind. It was infuriating. 

You wondered if them viewing you as a threat was what kept them from giving you a gun. If so, that was kinda funny. No one in your entire life had ever viewed you as anything remotely close to a threat. The only other possible reason was you being their prisoner, though not even Frankie treated you as such. 

If you really were their captive, you doubted Frankie would allow you to poke and jab at him as much as you did. He probably would’ve put you in your place with a threat or his fist. You were still trying to figure out exactly what these guys thought of you. Perhaps, they were telling the truth. Perhaps, they were just trying to protect you. 

Rad-infected bugs had popped out from houses and shops you passed by; you didn’t have the right equipment to check the water for chemicals, let alone the one to cleanse it. At this point, making a run for it was out of the question. While you would never say it, Frankie had been right. You wouldn’t have survived out here on your own. 

Before the sky went periwinkle, you set up camp in a seafoam green cabin secreted between windy, lopsided trees. You imagined it would’ve been cute before the war, before the porch was weather-worn and sunken-in; when the pond was blue instead of bone-dry. You had no idea this place even existed back here. According to Benny, they’d found it on their journey towards Concord, and marked it on their map for their way back. The windows were still boarded up from a few weeks ago, the inside was clear of any ghouls or other wasteland creatures. 

The house was quaint and noisy, the wooden floorboards whined and complained even with soft steps. The raggedy furniture was covered with ancient dust, and the air stank of must and dry rot. A soft fiery glow from the wick-lanterns lit up the living room where three sleeping bags laid on the floor – the fourth, for you, was in the single bedroom. 

Benny had loaned you his for the time being, but he swore it was no big deal. One of them was always on watch, anyway. They slept in shifts, so they could share until you reached Diamond City. 

“They have showers there?” You asked, pleasantly surprised. 

Benny chuckled. “Out of everything in Diamond City, that’s what you’re most excited about?” 

“Easily.” Two weeks of filth clung to your skin. Maybe they were used to going this long without bathing, but not you. “If you haven’t noticed, this jumpsuit traps everything.” 

“Trust me, we’ve noticed.” Frankie teased with a smirk. You playfully swatted at the bill of his ball cap. 

“Not like we smell much better.” Will tossed you a deodorizer spray from his bag. It wouldn’t make you feel any cleaner, but at least, it helped mask the stench. Now, you smelled overwhelmingly of pine instead of BO and stale sweat. 

“We’ll get you some new clothes while we’re there.” Santi patted your shoulder, then slowly pulled back. He dramatically grimaced at his hand before wiping it on his pants. 

Asshole. You tossed a dried cranberry at Santi’s head, which somehow he caught in his mouth. Benny cheered and you rolled your eyes before saying, “You guys are the worst.” 

“Nah, you don’t mean that.” Benny bumped into your arm, and you didn’t deny it. 

—

Usually, Frankie hated his dreams. The memories. Or the ones where he was running through trees, a forest, from something or someone he couldn’t see. Sometimes, he was the one doing the chasing but he didn’t exactly know what he was running after. 

However tonight, he was laying down in morning-warm grass near a dock by a pond stocked with fish. He realized it was this cabin – fixed up with fresh paint and polished windows and new shingles on the roof. He could hear a dog barking in the distance. Beside him, there was something soft and warm and he could smell lavender soap. It was a woman. He grabbed her shoulder to turn her and reveal her face – 

But it all disappeared as Will shook him awake for his shift. Third shift – the worst shift in his opinion. He’d pulled the short end of the stick for this leg of the trip. 

Frankie rubbed at the knot in his shoulder. His back was sore and achy. He was getting too old to be sleeping on the hard ground. The soft wick of the lantern guided him outside her door. He slumped down onto the cold floor, shivering and missing the warmth of his sleeping bag that Will was definitely enjoying. 

He remembered his dream. As he looked around at the rickety house, the rotted out cabinets and moth-eaten curtains that reminded him of reality. Sometimes, he wondered if he made a mistake, if he would’ve been happier with a quiet existence in Sanctuary. A white picket fence – a warm bed – a family. 

He chalked up the doubts to his age. He’d never had these thoughts when he was younger: life on the road wasn’t as easy as it used to be in his 20’s. 

Frankie brought the lantern closer before carefully undressing the wound on his arm. The ghoul had gotten him good. Over the last two weeks, the angry red had faded into pale pink. Still, it would scar. Just another in the collection. 

He was unraveling some fresh gauze when he heard the crinkling of shell fabric. Small murmuring coming from the other side of the door. Another nightmare. She had one almost every night. 

Certain nights were worse than others, and tonight was brutal. Quickly, he wrapped his wound in gauze while she thrashed around. He hummed, just to drown out her voice. When it grew louder, he covered his ears. 

He knew about nightmares. He knew the terror of reliving your trauma. The fear that came with being back there, only to wake up completely alone.

“Please - please.” The sound of her whimpering clawed at his chest. It made his hands itch. “Please,” she called out again and he felt something inside him snap. 

He jumped to his feet and reached for the knob – 

“Nora!” 

His hand stilled and he pressed his ear against the door. She was awake – she was crying. The soft sob echoed in his ears and made his chest ache. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t rub out the knot. He listened until her breathing evened out. The sun was starting to rise when he finally relaxed. 

And then, he realized – he’d never woken up Benny for his shift.

taglist: @lowlights @peoniarose @littlemisspascal @seasonschange-butpeopledont @pascalisthepunkest @heythere-mel @mando-amando @justatiredpotato

[emeraldbabygirl]

His Little Bitch

Genre: smut

Warnings/ kinks: pure motherfucking SIN, rough fucking, mouth fucking, slapping, choking, kicking, hitting, spitting, spit play, facial, mentions of boot licking, rough sex, degradation, pet play-ish, sadist and masochist stuff, (DONT WORRY THERE IS FLUFF AND AFTERCARE AT THE END CAUSE I AM NOT A COMPLETE SOULESS SLUT??) my brain is full of filth and I am very much ashamed yet I’m allowing it to bleed out into my fics. Don’t worry I only have one other one similar to this and that’s it. Please don’t tell my mum :( I am fully aware of my sins. I’m going to hell and this is the reason why hahahah 😔🙏

Length: 8 inches hahahaha

TRIGGER WARNING: NASTY NASTY AND BAD THINGS DO NOT READ IF YOU AREN’T INTO ANY OF THE THINGS LISTED ABOVE. Like seriously.

Hyunwoong thrusted up into you, his fingers tangled in your hair holding you down as he fucked your mouth. You’re nostrils burned, your lungs felt like they were on fire, you had gagged multiple times and you were struggling to breathe but Hyunwoong wouldn’t let up. “Holy fuck your mouth just feels so damn good. God I’ve missed fucking you like this kitten.” He was moaning and grunting as he chased his climax.

You sat naked and on your knees in front of him as he sat fully clothed on the couch. He came home after being gone for a few months and all he wanted to do was use your body as his cock sleeve. You took everything he gave you because you were his good bitch and you loved the pain and the everything that came with him being such a meanie. Hyunwoong was rough with you so often that when he was being good to you you begged him to go harder, faster, be more rough, slap you more. You lived on him being mean.

You loved when he slapped you so hard your ears started ringing, you loved when he choked you til you almost passed out, you loved when he turned your ass so red you couldn’t sit down. You loved when he kicked you to the ground and dug his boots into your side or when he held your head down on the floor or any other service with either his boots or hand. You loved when he marked you up with bruises and hickies and deep bites that made you bleed and scratches and nail marks that stayed for days. He loved to look at them and remind you of them and that you were his and he was yours and these scars and welts were just reminders and proof that he treated you so well and enjoyed every second of it. You loved when he denied your orgasm or overstimulated you til your screams were silent. You loved when he made you clean his shoes, when he made you walk around the house on all fours like a cat just to humiliate you. You loved when he made a mess of your face, when he painted his seed all over your body. You loved it because he loved it. You loved it because you felt alive, you felt everything Hyunwoong gave you and it stimulated every part of your body and all your senses. Hyunwoong loved treating you like his personal cock sleeve. You were his bitch and everything he did to you made your heart flutter and your insides churn.

He loved hearing the bell on your collar ring and all the noises you made. When you begged and whined, when you cried, when you screamed. He loved it all so much. Of course he loved you as the sweet boyfriend that he was and you were fully aware of what kinds of things he was into and you both consented to everything you did together. He was really a sweet and caring boyfriend and that never went away whenever you two enjoyed things like being rough. He would still stop and give you small breaks if he could tell your body needed it, you still had a safe word and the color system and used it sometimes if he did go too far. For the most part he knew your limits unless you told him otherwise. He gave you water after, gave you a bath or cleaned you up other ways, he always slid some praise in there because he was aware of how much your body could take physically and mentally. He was always taking care of you even if it didn’t seem like he was.

Tears spilled out wetting your face as he kept fucking your mouth. His head was tilted back against the couch hissing through his teeth. You knew you weren’t at your limit but your throat and gag reflex was acting up today. When he came down your throat your entire body convulsed. You pulled away from his grip with all your strength falling to the floor at his feet. You gasped for air, coughing up spit and his cum, tears continuing to fall down your face. You were sweating and the ringing in your ears came back. You gagged and drooled all over yourself and the floor tasting the bile come up and you did your best to not vomit.

Hyunwoong raised up and watched you for a bit concerned that he hurt you as sometimes he did. Sometimes he did go too far. When you could control your breathing again and looked up at him with those red and tear stained eyes Hyunwoong could help his cock for jerking up. “Color.” He asked more in a demand. He needed to check in on you. You swallow moving some of your hair away from your face. “Green, green.” You blurted our. Hyunwoong smirked.

“Good bitch.” His hand came in contact with your cheek hitting hard enough to sting. You moaned out with made him chuckle. “Look at me. Open your mouth I have a surprise for you.” Hyungwoong grabbed your face with one hand squeezing your cheeks as you held your tongue out. Your breathing became heavy as you watched him. He pursed his lips together and a huge wad of spit trailed down his mouth and onto your tongue. Your entire body reeled back and you cringed but his grip was firm. In truth you absolutely hated it when he spit in your mouth or came in it. You hated the texture of saliva and you hated the way it felt not only in your mouth but sliding down your throat. It made you want to throw up and rinse your mouth out. It was humiliating and it made you feel very very dirty. More dirty then when he spit or came anywhere else on you. But you did it for him. You did it because despite hating it there was pleasure in knowing how much he enjoyed it and how rewarding it was after.

“Keep that mouth open love.” There was the sweetness he always added in. Hyunwoong stood up cock in hand and started jerking himself off. You waited patiently for him your tongue still out your mouth nice and wide for him. “Fuck, you ready for your reward for being such a good slut for daddy?” With a few more strokes Hyunwoong shot his load in your mouth and all over your face. You closed you eyes and felt it slowly run down your chin and onto your breasts. You heard him spit again and his hand touched your face smearing his spit and cum all over your face and down to you breasts. “Fuckin perfect.” He said as he harshly slapped your breasts. “Swallow love. All of it.” You closed your mouth and forced his spit and cum down your throat trying to keep the gag reflex from coming back. Eyes still closed you opened your mouth to show Hyunwoong. “Good girl.” You hear him say.

You heard his footsteps become distant than they came back as if he got something. You felt something over your eyes and when you opened them Hyunwoong was couched in front of you wiping your face with a towel. Making sure he got all of the cum and spit off. He always aimed for the center of your face, never wanting to get cum in your hair but there was a few times when it did happen like tonight. “Damn not again. I’m sorry kitten.” He opened a water bottle that was next to the couch and wetted your hair and worked the cum out. “You can bathe later. Go rinse your mouth out and come right back okay?” Hyunwoong’s voice was so sweet. His finished up cleaning you off and handed you the water bottle.

When you came back he helped you put your panties and t-shirt back on. He pulled you onto the couch and you straddled his lap. “How was it tonight?” He asked smoothing your hair with his hand. “Perfect. You’re so good to me.” You said starting to tear up again. Hyunwoong smiled reaching up to wipe your tears with the back of his index finger. “I’m glad you take everything I give you so well. You’re good to me too kitten.” He pressed his lips to yours and you snuggled into his chest.

Hello. I’m sorry. I got to thinking about my 2Z reaction I wrote with the vibrator and riding on the thigh and I got to thinking specifically about Hyunwoong and my god I miss that daddy a lot and I just thought about him calling you kitten and being all mean and shit and this filth exploded outta my ass. I’m sorry. I miss him and I want to be railed by him. Miss his voice, miss his tongue, his dimples, I miss his beautiful cock 🥺 hahah I do miss him Idk where he went. He dropped off the face of the earth just like my sweet sweet Kimchi :( Hyunwoong daddy where are you?

[twoidiotwriters1]

The 3 Rules (Bucky Barnes x F! reader)

A/N: I also need my dose of Bucky Barnes. I simp for him too,*sigh* What a time to be alive -Val

Words: 1, 390

Twoidiots Masterlist

Sam Wilson has had Bucky Barnes as a partner for a short time, just a few months, but since they met thanks to Steve, neither has been able to hide their mutual dislike.

Sam is the charming one of the group, while Bucky is the grumpiest.

However, Steve and Tony keep putting them together on every mission they could think of, with the poor excuse that they’re a great team for those types of duties, but the truth is that they put them together to make peace.

For this reason, Sam has managed to know a little about the soldier and has deduced three important things.

1. Bucky doesn't share anything. No food, clothes, nothing.

2. Don't touch Bucky, not even as a greeting. Don’t do it. The only one who can get close enough is Steve.

3. Bucky doesn't smile. If you try to make him laugh, he’ll kick you.

Sam now knows that he shouldn’t do any of these actions and he’s told the others in the group to avoid any problems.

However, before the arrival of the new girl, Y/N, the others forgot to tell her this.

Since Tony Stark discovered her great ability for technology, she was immediately invited to live in the compound. Everyone managed to make a connection, but Sam still sees something strange about her.

"Stupid Sam, once I see him, I'll get my revenge," says the girl through her teeth as she tries to reach for her favorite mug, which is on the top shelf. She stretches her body, raising herself on tiptoe with difficulty.

"Damn fool..."

"Need help?" Says a deep voice.

She jumps and spins, meeting Bucky. Y/N is surprised to see him and especially to hear him. He’d never spoken to her since she joined.

"Uh- I, yeah!" She points to her mug. "Could you pass me the blue one?" He nods and walks over. Y/N moves to give him more space.

"What were you saying a few minutes ago?" Bucky asks, handing her the mug.

She makes a face.

“I was insulting Sam. He's the one who always puts my stuff in high places, where he knows I can’t reach,” She rolls her eyes.

Bucky frowns.

"Yeah, he's always making jokes," He growls, "But I didn't think you were a victim. You haven't been here long."

"I don't think that stops Sam from teasing."

He nods in agreement.

"Thanks," She says when Bucky is about to leave. "For the cup."

"S’nothing."

The interaction is interrupted when Sam walks into the kitchen. His amused grin is replaced by a frown upon seeing Y/N with her mug.

"Oh, man," He complains and looks over to Bucky. "Did you give it to her? You just ruined my favorite part of the morning, Barnes."

“Don't be a child and stop bothering her,” Bucky sentences and then leaves.

Sam looks at him in surprise, then looks at the girl.

"What did you do to make him defend you?" He questions.

"I did nothing. He's fed up with your jokes too, Wilson,” She replies, preparing her much-desired coffee.

"I don't know what you're talking about, darling. Everyone loves my jokes."

That was their first interaction, nothing out of the ordinary. Could’ve been worst.

After the others gathered in the kitchen for breakfast, Y/N slipped away with two mugs in hand. No one but Sam noticed this and he couldn't help but follow her without making any noise.

The girl walked into the rooms and left one of them outside Bucky's, she knocked on the door and continued on her way.

Bucky opened the door, finding the gift, he took it and looked down the hall, seeing the girl entering her room. He returned his gaze to the cup, shook his head with a small, almost imperceptible smile, and then returned to his room.

All of this happened under Sam's surprised gaze.

***

The second time Sam witnessed something strange was on movie night, where everyone was gathered in the screening room.

As soon as he enters, he notices that Y/N and Bucky are sitting together, on the same couch in front of the screen, near the chair where Sam decides to sit.

The movie starts and only a few lights go out, but Sam can still make out their bodies.

"What are you eating?" She whispers to Bucky.

“Candy, but they’re kinda salty. They're the ones I ate when I was a kid, uh— well, the most recent version of them,” He explains.

"Can I try one?"

Sam snorts at her question, expecting rejection from the super-soldier.

"Sure," says Bucky.

Sam can't believe what he just heard. He quickly leans over to the other side of his chair and pulls the collar of Steve's shirt closer.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"You’ll not believe what just happened."

Sam points out the couple and when Steve sees that Bucky continues to share his favorite treats, he can't believe it at first either. He doesn't even share them with him.

***

The third time was the turning point in Wilson's mental health.

He, Wanda, Bruce, Steve, and Bucky are at the high table that faces the kitchen. Each one talking about different topics, the two super soldiers and Sam are planning a strategy for the next mission, but a few seconds later they’re interrupted by the arrival of Y/N.

"Hey, Buck," She says touching Barnes's right arm. He turns to see her and smiles at her. "I need you to come to the lab, Tony has some upgrades for you."

"Okay," He answers immediately.

"Wow, wow. Stop right there,” Sam says before Bucky can get up from his chair. Now everyone looks at him confused. "Come on, I can't be the only one panicking seeing this," He points out to the couple.

"What?" The girl asks.

"Maybe no one told you because you're new," starts Wilson. "But the grumpy machine next to you has his limits and we all have to follow his damn rules to avoid a broken arm."

"Sam, I don't think—" Steve says, but Sam ignores him.

"First, Barnes doesn't share anything and the other day he voluntarily decided to share his precious sweets with you without even making a face," He says, counting with his fingers. "Second, just Steve and some photos at the museum are proof that Barnes is capable of smiling, but apparently, that ability is natural when you arrive, and third," He points to the hand of the girl who continues to touch Bucky's skin. "No one can touch him and you’re doing that right now! "

The others analyze what Sam just said and they realize that this is all true. But the confusion of the majority increases when Bucky smiles mockingly and the girl laughs.

"And does that bother you, Sam?" She asks.

"How are you still alive!?"

She smirks wickedly.

"Then this will drive you crazy," She mentions, grabbing Bucky by the back of his head and bringing her lips together against his in a deep and prolonged kiss, which is pleasantly reciprocated by the super-soldier.

"What's going on!?" Wilson exclaims.

When the two-part ways, they can't help but laugh at Sam's reaction.

"Don't overreact, Sam," says Wanda, grinning at the couple.

"How come no one is freaking out?"

"They make a nice couple," says Bruce with a shrug.

"And you?" says Sam looking at Steve.

"It's what I was trying to tell you, but you didn’t let me speak," answers the blond.

"Traitor," Sam says and then returns to Bucky and Y/N. "I don't understand how this happened," He looks at the man. "I once tried to heal one of your wounds on your good arm and you ended up breaking my nose," He complains.

"The difference is that she’s better than you," Bucky answers hugging the girl's waist.

"Better than me?"

"Yeah, funnier, kinder, cuter, hotter and she smells better," He jokes, getting a little slap from her. "Once you start acting a bit more like her, I’ll reconsider my attitude towards you."

"Is this some kind of joke?" Sam asks.

Y/N laughs again.

"Face it, Wilson. I beat you,” She says. She kisses Bucky's cheek. "Come on, soldier," She takes his hand and they both leave the place.

"Are you okay, Sam?" Steve asks.

"I need an aspirin."

Taglist:

@silenthappyplace​

@yourbonesareinmybody​

@hufflepuffzutara​

@lauramacch​

[yandere-romanticaa]

I'm shook that my Akame ga Kill! works got notes, especially the ones about Run... So, I'm gonna write for him again because I can! This is totally NOT self indulgent, nope, that does not exist here, noooope!

𝕋𝕠𝕠 𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖, 𝕥𝕠𝕠 𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕖.

The bitter cold of the forest did nothing to deter the young man's determination to return to the capital safe and sound. Clutching a small ring box in his left hand Run couldn't help but to smile as he looked up at the night sky. He felt unstoppable at that moment, it felt as though the moon itself had just blessed him and that the stars were cheering him on, to finally pop the question. He was certain that his love would say yes, he was certain that the moment this horrid empire fell into ruin that he could finally find true happiness and peace.

And it would all start with the one who owned his heart. Through the day and even deeper into the night would his heart soar at the thought of his darling little dove waiting for him back home.

Home.

That word used to feel unfamiliar on his lips but once his they found their place on those of his love, only then did he feel his world stop. Only then, and only then, could he call himself a free man, free from his dark past, free from the vengeance he so desperately craved, free from the endless river of blood that was on his hands. Even with his imperial arms that granted him the ability to fly high up into the sky like a mighty hawk, he was still a predator. He would hunt and claw down his enemies, following the instructions of his commander like a good soldier ought to. Run was a good man, even with the blood of the world's greatest scum on his hands. That was precisely why he has to protect his love, that was why he had to fight so hard. He had to stay alive, if not for himself then for his love who waited for him to return. Who knows how many hours of sleep they had lost waiting for him to return, how much blood, sweat and tears they spilt just to see him in the palace. Run felt awful for putting his beloved through this kind of torture but it was all going to be so worth it in the end. The day in which they could finally be together was so close, he could feel it.

Soft footsteps rang quietly throughout the quiet street, starkly contrasting the furious pats that followed closely behind Run. With a cheerful smile on his face his golden eyes softened even more at the sight of his comrades approaching him. He had asked Wave and Kurome earlier to keep and eye out for (y/n) and to report back to him immediately when he came back from his mission. Thinking that was the case he called out to them as he raised his arm into the air in order to greet them properly. He just could not help himself anymore, the pure joy that was consuming his heart was too much to handle. It felt like sparks were going off in his chest, a whole new feeling of adoration was consuming him like the sweetest drug there ever was. As the pair came closer and closer towards him, Run began to notice a few odd details. The distressed look on Kurome's face, the angry tears that were flowing down Wave's face, his distressed and heavy breathing impossible ignore on this otherwise tranquil night. His choked sobs made Run's eyes go wild as he scanned them both, finally spotting the dry and crusty blood on their clothing. Finally face to face, the trio went deadly silent as Wave continued to shed tears like a heartbroken child.

"What's the matter Wave, what is going on? Where is everyone, why do you have blood on you?!" Run broke the short lived silence as he asked various questions that plauged him at the moment. Reaching out towards his friends shoulder, Run tried to comfort him. He was instead met with a harsh slap with Wave's hand, his gaze focused on the ground beneath him as he bit his lips in order to contain his screams of regret. Distressed, Run looked at Kurome's blank face but there was a glint of sorrow and sympathy in those ebony eyes of hers. In her left hand she held a small hair tie, a tie Run had given to his darling mere days ago before his trip. Said tie was covered from bottom to top with dried up blood, a few strands of hair still clinging desperately on it as the wind suddenly picked up the pace. Quiet apologies and choked out crie scould be heard from Wave as he continued to stare at his boots, the blood from his chewed up lips coating his skin like crimson paint. Taking a deep breath, Kurome finally explained the situation to Run in the calmest manner she possibly could at that moment.

There was a sudden breach in the palace, it was either Night Raid or some bandits they were searching for, they weren't quite sure. The scuffle soon turned out into a fullscale battle and there was a high number of casualties. She showed the hair tie into Run's hands, indicating everything.

His heart stopped beating but for all the wrong reasons this time.

The clear sky was now grey, the dark clouds murking his vision. He couldn't tell whether or not it was the rain itself or his own tears, he really couldn't. Growing weak in his knees, Run tried to hard to keep his composure and his pain at bay. It felt as though he was being covered in ice at that exact moment, the excruciating pain overflowing his soul as his lips silently quivered.

He broke his own promise.

The one person he needed the most in the world was gone, just like that.

He wondered if the gods themselves were mourning along with him at that exact moment. The harsh rain seemed to be proof of that. Closing his eyes, he had finally realized that he could never be happy. Such a thing was not possible for a man like him, a man who had done so much, and yet so little. He was going to keep one end of his promise though - he was going to live for his revenge. If he cannot have his love then so be it. He was going to do what he set out to do to begin with.

That stone cold determination did little to soothe his aching heart at that moment but it was his best possible option for him.

Live, love, die. That was the law of the land. It was a law that he despised with his very being. What a pity that the land did not care for his feelings at that moment. It took what it wanted, whenever it wanted. And as retaliation, he was going to steal fire back everything tine times stronger than before.

[sergeantsporks]

Do You Want the Knife You Left in My Back, or Can I Keep It?

Rating: Teen and up, Gen

An injured Hunter wanders into Hexside. What was Luz supposed to do, just let him bleed out on the floor?

Ch 4/5: Rescue

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3

Ao3

Hunter sat down with a whump at the base of a tree, huffing and shivering. He looked back at the owl house. Maybe he should have told the owl lady what had happened to her apprentice.

No. No, then she would just be angry at him, and would kick him out—or she’d trade him in a heartbeat to get Luz back. He had to get Luz back before Kikimora sent her demands to Eda instead.

Maybe they could have... worked to rescue her together? Maybe Eda wouldn’t have sold him out, maybe she would have helped.

Who was he kidding, who wouldn’t trade him in a heartbeat for Luz? On the one hand, cheerful, friendly human who could do magic! On the other hand, broken, powerless witch with an annoying voice.

Not that it mattered. Luz wouldn’t want him around after this—the best he could do was rescue her, and then hope he could make it back to the coven on his own, and pray that Belos would be angrier at Kikimora than him.

He could—he could do this.

Ugh.

Maybe.

Hunter leaned against the tree, trying to summon the willpower to get up and keep going. But it was quiet, and he was dizzy and cold, and his back was screaming at him to stop, and he just wanted to go back to sleep where it was warm. He twisted his arm around, gritting his teeth as his back protested, and felt under his shirt for the bandages, hissing when the touch made the pain in his back flare up.

His fingers came back red.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Hunter was relatively certain that was very bad. His head thudded back into the tree.

Stupid.

What was he supposed to do?!

“Where is he?” Kikimora’s voice came through the trees, “I really thought that would work!”

Hunter froze. Don’t find me, don’t find me, don’t find me—

Her little footsteps pattered nearby—on the other side of the tree he was on. Hunter shifted slightly, and a branch from the tree pressed right between his shoulder blades, right in the wound. Hunter bit on his hand to keep from screaming as the world blacked out.

But when he woke up again, Kikimora was gone.

This was his chance.

Hunter used the tree to haul himself up, his world still spinning. He stumbled towards where Kikimora had come from to see Luz, still tied up. She gasped when she saw him.

“You came?! You really came?!”

“Yyyyyeah. Lemme just…” Relief conquered his adrenaline high, and he nearly blacked out again, but he managed to untie her. “Kay… I guess… run?”

Luz blinked at him. “You—you really came for her. You’d abandon your mission to help her? Betray the emperor?”

Hunter blinked back spots from his eyes, pressing his arms to his stomach. Wow—okay—this was—that adrenaline had really been—

“Uhhh—yeah—I’ll capture you later—‘s not a big—” he blinked again. “Did youuuuuu just refer… third person?”

She blinked again, but her eyelids blinked sideways instead of up and down.

Hunter managed to haul himself up again, the ground seeming to tilt and sway beneath him. “K—we gotta—we gotta go—”

Luz caught him as he fell, but then she wasn’t Luz anymore, she was some kind of snake creature. She snapped her fingers, and the ropes that had been tying her floated up yanked around him. Hunter arched his back, biting his lip so hard he tasted blood as they pressed against the stab wound. He flew backwards into a tree, and he could just see, through blurry vision, the snake creature slithering towards him.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I really am—but this is the only way out for me.”

Xxx

Luz tore through the trees, her heart thudding in her chest. “Hunter!” she called, “Hunter, answer me if you can hear me! Are you okay?!”

She heard a weak cry for help, and raced towards it. “Hunter! Ohmygosh, you scared the living daylights… out… of… me…”

She skidded to a stop as she emerged in a small clearing. Kikimora was waiting, Hunter tied up in a limp, unconscious pile behind her. Next to Kikimora was… also Hunter. But as she watched, he shifted and changed.

A basilisk.

None of that explained why Kikimora had managed to get him out of the house—unless the basilisk had turned into Emperor Belos, she supposed.

“I told you I’d get him,” Kikimora purred.

Luz pulled out a set of glyphs. “Let him go. Now.”

Kikimora snapped her fingers, and Hunter floated up, her magic dumping him in an unceremonious heap on the floor. “Oh, no, human, I hold the cards now. You set down those glyphs, or… well, his death won’t be pleasant.”

Luz bit her lip, looking down at Hunter—if she could keep Kikimora from killing him just long enough for her friends to come back…

“Promise you won’t hurt him if I drop the glyphs?”

Kikimora pulled him up by the hair, pressing the claws of her other hand to his throat. “No, but I promise that I will hurt him if you don’t.”

Hunter was still limp in her grasp, and a wave of worry swept over Luz—he hadn’t reacted at all. “I want proof you haven’t killed him already.”

Kikimora shook him. “Wake up!”

His eyes opened just a crack, and then closed again. Kikimora tossed him back to the ground, putting one foot right over where his stab wound was. “There. He’s still alive. Now. Put the glyphs down before. I. Change. That.” She ground her foot down with each word, and Luz dropped the glyphs as Hunter howled in pain, breaking off into a heartbreaking whimper.

“Okay, okay, just… leave him alone! Please!”

Kikimora removed her foot. “Let’s see… I will take you to Belos. Alive. And you will agree that you were the one to hurt him—this worked out better than I could have hoped. I never thought you’d actually take the brat in! Yes, you will tell the emperor that you attacked him. And if you ever recant your story—well, Hunter has to sleep sometime. He has to eat. There are a thousand ways that someone—perhaps one of your friends—could assassinate him.”

There was a rustle in the trees behind Kikimora, and a feather floated down. Right. Showtime.

Luz glared at Kikimora. “This won’t work. Hunter will just tell everyone what happened, and your lie will fall flat.”

A satisfied little smile played across Kikimora’s lips. “Oh, I don’t think so. All I have to do is threaten the reverse—he agrees with me or you meet an unfortunate end.”

Luz snorted. “That’ll never work—he wouldn’t do that for me.”

“You’d be surprised.”

Luz shrugged. “Eh. I can think of another reason it won’t work.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

Luz grinned. “You won’t even make it back to the keep.”

Eda leapt from the trees with an unholy shriek, tackling Kikimora. The little demon drew a magic circle, but Eda kicked her away before she could finish it.

“Don’t. Threaten. My. Kid.” Eda growled, snatching Kikimora in her talons. “Let’s go for a little flight, shall we?”

Luz ducked past the fighting pair, kneeling next to Hunter. Blood was soaking through his shirt, and her hands fluttered around the wound uselessly. “Okay, okay, okay, this is fine.” She pulled up the shirt and undid the bandages. The stitches had ripped out, and the wound was angry, swollen, red.

And bleeding a lot.

“Hunter why?!” she demanded frantically, wadding up her cloak and pressing it to the wound, “Why would you run off?!”

His eyes opened just a crack, glazed over from pain and fever. “… you’re not a snake,” he murmured, then yelped as she pressed harder on the wound

“Oh, thank you, very helpful, that certainly explains everything.”

He whimpered, giving her big, hurt eyes.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t let you bleed out! Wait, why am I apologizing for that? Okay, okay—what did the healing professor say, what… Okay, let’s see, take the swelling down—”

Luz slapped an ice glyph on the ground, trying to make an ice block.

The magic didn’t come, and Luz felt her limbs grow weak. She whirled around to see the basilisk, staring at her with wide eyes. “I can’t let you go.”

Luz held her hands up. “I know what you’ve been through,” she said quietly, “I know Emperor Belos has hurt you. Has hurt your kin. Hunted you down. But you don’t have to do this. If you make Hunter go back, if you take me back, we are both dead. Is that really something you want?”

“You have no idea what I went through!” they scream-hissed.

“I do—I really do. I met one of your own, number five. She got away, she’s living away, she’s okay. She’s making her own choices, her own life. You can do the same. Please—please, let me take care of him. Don’t let Belos and Kikimora hurt someone else.”

The basilisk stared at her for a long minute.

Then they turned and slithered away.

Luz breathed a sigh of relief, turning back to Hunter. “Okay, okay, okay, we need to get you somewhere safe.”

She tried to haul him up, but he went completely deadweight on her with a whimper. “Oh—Hey! I know it hurts, but you gotta stick with me, okay, you gotta hold on.”

He shook his head with a whine, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Hunter, please! Work with me, I can’t carry you!”

“Need a lift?”

Puddles touched down next to her, Viney, Gus, and Willow waving from the top. Puddles squawked and nuzzled Hunter. “I can’t get him up,” Luz called, “He’s in really bad shape, Viney!”

Viney slid off of her griffin, opening a pouch strapped to Puddle’s side. She tossed a mini stretcher to the ground, and it grew to full size, with ropes on the ends. “I’ve got you covered.”

Luz laid Hunter down on the stretcher, sitting down next to him. “I am the worst caretaker ever,” she groaned.

“No, he’s just the worst patient!” Gus called down as Puddles grabbed the ends of the ropes and lifted off. They soared over the trees, back towards the owl house. Eda banked up next to them.

“Miss stab-happy is re-thinking her life at the top of a very tall tree. How are we looking?”

Luz squeezed Hunter’s hand. “Not great,” she said softly, “Eda, what if—”

“Luz. He’s going to be okay. Okay?”

Luz took a deep breath. “Okay.” She shook her head at Hunter. “What did she say to you to get you to come out of the house?”

He didn’t respond, and they touched down at the door. Hooty snaked around Puddles. “WHOA! That was WEIRD!”

“Good to have you back, Hooty,” Eda said tiredly, touching down, “Now give us space.” She carried Hunter inside, laying him out on the floor. “Alright, healing girl. Do your thing.”

Viney pulled out the knife that Kikimora had used to stab Hunter. “Okay, I’ve been taking a better look at this thing, asking my teachers questions about it, and I think I can put a better fix on this. Heal most of the internal damage—”

“I thought you already did that!”

“No, I put a patch on them—I stopped the problem from getting worse, sort of froze its ability to tear any further, re-routed any essential functions to undamaged parts of the body so that he could heal. But I think now—I can finish off the healing, find a workaround to the curse on the knife. It’ll fix the nerve pathways, anyway, and seal up some of the holes further in.” She gestured to the bloody mess that was his back. “There’s a tradeoff, though—I’m going to have to shift nerves and cells from another part of his back to fix the damage. Basically, I’m going to shift the damage from his internal organs and spinal cord to his outer muscles and skin, and there I can easily use stitches to fix the tear damage so that he can heal naturally. The wounds won’t be life-threatening anymore. If I can spread the damage far enough, it’ll just be a matter of stitching the initial cut, and the rest will be like naturally torn muscles.”

“Huh?”

“He’ll be really sore and have a nasty cut on his back,” Viney simplified, “But I mean really sore, Luz, like, he won’t be able to move at all for several days.”

“Oh, good,” Eda commented, “maybe that way he won’t run away.”

“I’ve got it,” Luz promised, “I’ll help him with everything he needs. Promise.”

“You’ll need to make sure the cut stays clean, or it’ll get infected. I’ll leave disinfectant behind. Be careful, it stings. As for the fever… well, once I shift the damage, it won’t be fun, but it won’t kill him either.”

“Okay. Okay, do it.

Viney took in a deep breath. “Okay, there goes nothing!” she drew a circle over Hunter’s back, and the stab wound shimmered and glowed. Pulsing, glowing golden lines spread out, and the wound slowly started to heal, at least not deep anymore. Viney grinned. “Yessssss! Alright, Luz, Gus, Willow, scram, you don’t want to watch the stitches.”

Luz let out a shaky breath as Eda steered her towards the kitchen. “We almost lost him,” she said quietly.

“Almost,” Eda emphasized, “But we didn’t. And that’s what matters.” She sighed. “Look. If you… need any help. If you need a break from him, or you’re just too tired to take care of him. I… can step in.”

“Really?!”

“Yeah. Really. I have to admit, he’s starting to grow on me.”

“He was unconscious all day, Eda.”

“Exactly.”

Ch 5