#it’s like they’re so desperate to not repeat got’s mistakes without actually understanding what got’s mistakes were

[iheartbookbran]

HOTD’s continued insistence on characterizing men as warmongers whose first response to any conflict is violence and women as helpless victims who only desire peace without allowing any kind of nuance in between is honestly such a boring and spineless outlook, this is probably the show’s biggest failing for me

[yesimwriting]

Would you write a Kaz Brekker request where the reader is a bookworm and a crow and basically Kaz asks the reader to read to him as his way of apologizing after a argument that was his fault?

 it ​​a/n i did something kinda similar in a 'promise of rain' blurb,, but this concept is so cute to me:)) love it sm i moved it up my request cue lol

also IM IN COLLEGE NOW!! WHAT?? AND IVE BEEN TO A PARTY! AND IM JOINING A SORORITY AND I DID DRAMA AUDITIONS AND AHH !! SO DIFFERENT! I MISS MY MOM AND SISTER AND DOG AND EVEN MY DAD BUT IM HAPPY HERE!! 

also im a little worried this might not portray kaz superrrrr accurately bc it's been awhile so just let me know,, feedback leads to improvement:)) also kinda set this up for a part 2 bc...well youll see 

--

They've always said a lot of things about him, and I've always heard them. But I've never quite believed them. Sure, I get why the dark things that have flourished in the poisoned soil that is Ketterdam consider Kaz Brekker the darkest thing of all. I understand the nickname 'Dirtyhands' for the gloved criminal who has fooled each crime boss at least once. I understand each terrible thing they've said about him.

But I've never agreed with them. I've never even considered agreeing with them. Until today.

The thought that maybe everything people say about him is correct in a simple context struck me worse than the silence after our argument. It made me feel like both a fool and hypocrite. Kaz and I have had our fair share of spats over the relatively short time we've known each other, but never like this. Never so badly he stormed out of the room before I could. I squeeze the book in my lap even harder, desperate to focus on the words on the pages.

You didn't hurt him. He walked away because he decided you weren't worth the cost of his expensive time. I repeat those thoughts in my mind over and over again, letting them bitter me further. It's a lot easier to be mad than hurt. A lot easier to fuel your pain than try to understand your mistakes. Besides, tiredness is already dredging around in my chest and if I don't calm down a little I won't be able to fall asleep.

I had escalated the fight more than I should have. Knowing Kaz is like performing in a tightrope act. One must always be aware of where they're going. Watching what's in front of them without ever thinking too much about what's beneath or behind them. Today though, when I needed my balance most I chose to fall. I chose to dive, and apparently there was no net.

"Oh, you're doing that thing."

I roll my eyes at Jesper's voice as I fight down a yawn. I wipe my face with the back of my palm before turning. The burning behind my eyes never resulted in full tears, but I feel better after doing so. "What thing?"

"That terribly noble thing where you find it in yourself to take full blame for every single conflict you and boss man fall into." The slight humor in his voice is enough for me to roll my eyes again. "Between you and me, I'm sure the reason he's so angry now is because you didn't do that for once."

I press my lips together as my chin angles itself upwards slightly. "I never do that." He raises an eyebrow. The slight sympathy that colors the look is more offensive than his accusation. "If I pick and choose my battles, it's for good reason."

"Clearly."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He shrugs once before further entering my room. I say nothing when he sits at the foot of my bed. "Oh, you know," Jesper stretches back casually, resting his back against the wall and extending his legs, "You and Kaz--Kaz and you."

Has he been drinking? Perhaps he's not here because of my unusual absence from downstairs after my fight with Kaz but because he's already too tipsy to think right. "What?"

At my confused look he grins, flashing all of his teeth with an arrogance that outshines the whiteness of them. He taps the still open book in my lap. "Let me put it in terms you'll understand." Jesper sits up a little further, amusement clear in his features. "You two make a shameful Elizabeth and Darcy--"

"Oh, shut up," I groan, glaring at him, "This isn't Pride and Prejudice. And Kaz and I," Jesper's smugness returns when I can't quite think of what I want to say, "We're barely friends--we're barely anything, let alone what you're implying."

Jesper pulls his legs up and shoves me gently. "Dearest, y/n," he ignores my glare, "You should know better than anyone that 'barely friends, barely anything' with Kaz is more than it is with anyone else?"

"That doesn't mea--"

"You two say goodnight to each other." Once. Kaz and I said good night to each other in front of Jesper once. How dare he assume it happens regularly? He's right, but that doesn't mean I'm okay with it. "You play cards with him. Not for money, not for skill--"

"It's for practice." The look Jesper gives me is enough to tell me that my defense didn't land.

Damn him for ever finding Kaz and I on one of those strange nights. One of those nights in which he lurks at the stairwell...the one that divides my room and his attic. One of those nights in which it feels like he's a phantom and I'm the only one that can really see him. A night in which we both silently find each other.

I couldn't quite believe it the first time it happened. I'm not exactly a Crow--I don't feel enough a connection to the Dregs to join them without some kind of guarantee--but I was needed for some obscure job. but I was needed for some obscure job. The Crows needed an insider who could blend into high society, and I needed a place to stay away from my father.

It worked. I worked. And with each passing day I found myself enjoying the Crows more and more. That's why I stayed. That's why I started checking the stairwell practically every night, a set of playing cards in my hand.

The first time had been awkward. I couldn't sleep and my room felt too quiet, but the rambunctious club felt too loud and a little unsafe considering the hour. So I settled for the only space in between. When Kaz found me sitting on the steps and playing a solitary card game I had been so stunned by embarrassment I just offered to deal him in. I had been more shocked when he silently accepted my offer.

"Practice?" Jesper repeats. "You were laughing, I heard you."

"That was one time--how do you know we didn't just happen to play cards together the one time you saw it?"

"Because you laughed about a play you considered 'predictable'."

Sighing, I sit up a little straighter. "I'm not having this conversation. Occasionally saying 'goodnight' to someone who lives in the same space I live in and sometimes playing cards with said person because we both happen to be up at a certain time doesn't mean anything."

"And the way he looked at the contact that was flirting with you?"

Oh...this conversation again. "For the last time, the contact wasn't flirting with me. We had to dance to blend in and when he leaned towards me to whisper in my ear...it was to tell me the intel Kaz just had to have."

"And when he tucked that strand of hair behind your ear?"

"He just wanted to sell our cove--"

"Y/n, he kissed your cheek and I'm fairly certain he would have kissed you if Kaz and I hadn't made it to the corridor at that second."

Why is everyone so obsessed with what would have never happened? The contact had been attractive, tall with fair eyes and hair. But it's not like I feel anything for him, nor would I have been so foolish during a job. A fact that Kaz refuses to believe. I'm tired of this argument...I'm just tired. This job required me to start getting ready early in the morning and lasted long into the night.

"I wouldn't have kissed him and even if I had, the fact that Kaz is so mad about feels...sexist." A stupid argument, considering that Kaz couldn't care less if the person he's working with is female, male, or anything in between because the only thing he cares about is profit. "It's a stupid thing to be mad about, but you hit on anything with a pulse at any time and--"

"I resent that--"

"For the first two weeks I was here I thought you might've been a prostitute."

I can feel him holding in a laugh. "Did you at least think I was a good prostitute?" When I glare again, he finally actually laughs. "Not the point--got it."

"Then what is the point? You're bored and obsessed with gossip so now you're shaking me for information you don't need."

"The point is you're oblivious." Rude...I move my leg in a weak attempt to push him off my bed. Jesper catches my ankle easily, ignoring my attempt at a fight. "You thought the contact was only doing his job and you don't know the real reason that Kaz blew up at you for the first time the way he blows up at everyone."

"Okay, well since you know everything, tell me why he's mad."

He lets out a sigh like he can't believe I even needed to ask that. "It's not the best look that the first time you let him pick a fight with you happens to be about some guy."

...Maybe he is drunk? "Don't be so cryptic. I don't like you enough to put up with that."

Jesper half-sighs again before pushing himself off my bed. "I'm going to pretend I think you're smart enough to piece things together from that."

"Asshole," I mumble instinctually as he walks towards my door. "Are you not telling me because I tried to push you off the bed?"

He turns when he reaches my door in order to lean against my door frame. "It's not not because of that." I should throw my book at his head. "In all seriousness, think about it. If you don't you'll either kill each other or kill me."

Ugh...he's so confusing. This time, I let him go. He leaves he door open, which is beyond annoying. I stand up to close it, promising myself I will focus on my book the second it's in my hands again. As I walk back towards my bed, my eyes land on the deck of cards on my nightstand.

Does it send a signal I don't want to send if I don't go the stairwell tonight? Do I want to send a signal? I don't know...actually, the only thing I know is that I don't want to think about this a second longer. I don't ease as I read, but my eyelids become heavier with each word they cross. I feel the weight of them as my focus slips, farther and farther away until I can no longer focus. When my eyes fall shut I can't bring myself to think or force them open.

--

I notice my surprised before I register that I've just woken up. Falling asleep feels so far and yet the crick in my neck confirms the obvious. Rubbing the eyes with the back of my hand, I push my book from my lap and sit up. The only indication of how much time has passed is how much my bedside candle has melted.

How long have I been asleep? How did I manage to fall asleep? I thought I was too mad at Kaz to manage anything but pouting in my room. I hadn't even decided if I wanted to talk to him.

I stand even though I haven't decided anything. I should at least change if I want to go to bed. But is leaving this alone for even longer a bad idea? I think Jesper thought so...though my conversation with him is far from clear. It's not the best look that the first time you let him pick a fight with you happens to be about some guy. I'm going to pretend I think you're smart enough to piece things together from that. What does he want me to do with that?

Maybe he was partially intoxicated and felt the need to play the role of a good friend. Or maybe this is his idea of a joke.

Whatever--regardless of Jesper, I have a choice to make. A tiny part of me hopes it's insignificant, but I know Kaz enough to know that nothing is insignificant to him. He holds onto things the way he holds onto his kruge. Perhaps I'll seek out Inej, she seems to be the best at rationalizing. Though she might be asleep by now, or on a job or...I don't even know.

How late is it? Is it late enough to be one of the few hours Kaz claims to reserve for sleep? Maybe my bad luck is still around and he's already in bed for once. Does that mean his anger will extend to tomorrow?

I shouldn't care. It's not like I'm in the wrong. Did I escalate things? Maybe a little...but I won't apologize for defending myself. Even though that makes everything a little easier. I feel stuck, like in some kind of place of half sleep. A single knock at my door is enough to make me want to jump. I rub my eyes a little more firmly in hopes of waking up more before someone sees me.

I approach the door without worry. Maybe it's not as late as I assumed. Or maybe it's really early? I open the door while still fighting against my slight disorientation. I'm so focused on acting normal, I almost don’t register the person standing at my door. 

I don’t know who I expected, or what--maybe Jesper, much more tipsy than he was before, slumped against the doorframe, only knocking because he’s too tired to push the door open. Maybe even Inej, on her way here to deliver some kind of job or notice of dismissal. But it’s nothing I could expect. It’s...Kaz. 

The Dirtyhands stands at my door, expression as hard as ever yet something behind his eyes that burns the sleep away from me. “Uh--hi.” I bite my tongue to avoid cringing at that very awkward beginning. “Are you here to kick me out yourself?” The only response I get is the slightest shift of his gaze off of my face. “No? Well then I think I’m going to bed. It’s late.” 

My tone and words are clear. Get out of my doorway, I’m in no mood to go back to arguing.  When he still doesn’t say anything, I’m emboldened by my nerves. I push the door between us without breaking eye contact. 

Before the wood can meet the doorframe, he moves his cane, wedging it between us. “Y/n.” I don’t understand the way he says my name, but I’m certain he’s never said it like that. “I...” When he’s not prompted by the uncomfortableness of silence, I raise an eyebrow, my grip on the door tightening. “What I said shouldn’t have been said.” Wait--is he admitting fault? I’m so thrown I almost melt entirely. “Not to you.” 

The addition leaves him so lowly a part of me wonders if I’ve imagined it. I’m so thrown by it I don’t even think to reply until a long second has passed. “You seemed to believe the opposite a few hours ago.” 

His lips press together for a moment. “You didn’t ask me to play cards tonight.” He took that as intentional? At least that got me some kind of apology? I keep my mouth shut, greed making me want more information. I guess he must sense my silent tugging because he head inclines slightly. “Don’t push.” 

I fight down a grin. “Push what?” His only response to stiffen further. “I’m going to tell you something as a peace offering.” That seems to intrigue him in some way. I can’t tell if it’s a good kind of interested, but I note the slight raise of his eyebrows and his intentional silence. “I didn’t chose not to ask you to play cards.” He gives me no indication of anything, which is fair...considering my vagueness. “I was mad, obviously, and in the middle of deciding on a course of action...and then I fell asleep.” 

A long pause of silence. “You fell asleep?” 

I’m not sure if his incredulous tone should offend me or not. If I wanted to lie, I’d like to think he knows me well enough to know that I’d have thought of a better excuse than that. Or at least a less embarrassing one. “Yes, it’s not that difficult to believe. Today had been long and all I wanted to do was read, but then Jesper came in to say the oddest things and then leave me to...” 

Oh--oh. I guess there’s a reason people say to ‘sleep on’ something. Because now, actively remembering Jesper’s words for the first time since I fell asleep...I understand what Jesper was implying in the oddest way possible. He meant that Kaz and I...that perhaps there is a Kaz and I in a context that’s more than just grammatical. Wow. I really had to realize this with Kaz right in front of me. 

My face feels warmer than it did before, an irrational bout of anxiety forcing me to consider that me might be able to read impossible, embarrassing thoughts from my expression alone. 

“What did Jesper say?” I’m too lost in my own spiral of confusion and panic and some feeling I can’t recognize to register how Kaz asks his question. There’s an edge to it, an odd one, but that could easily just be Kaz. 

This is most definitely the last conversation we need to be having. I’m still mad at him for his earlier dramatics. So I just shake my head, feigning an exhaustion I could lose myself in. “Nothing and everything all at once.” I resist the urge to rub my eyes again. “I’m pretty sure he was drinking, and I wasn’t really listening. I was just trying to read.” 

Kaz’s expression hardens briefly as he takes in my words, and then he exhales, nodding once with the breath. “What were you reading?” 

My lips part instinctually, ready to spew off details about the latest novel that’s captured my attention. But before I can let myself take off, the reality of the situation strikes me directly in the chest. This is not Nina, or Inej, or even Jesper after what he considers a ‘good night’. This is Kaz Brekker, the man believed to not have a soul. I’ve spoken to him before about casual things, though most of the nights in which we end up playing cards or just sitting near each other are spent in silence. But he’s never prompted me before. Not in the one topic he knows is guaranteed to turn me into an overenthusiastic, gushing fountain of poor summaries and character analysis. 

I guess this is his peace offering. This shouldn’t warm the way it does. He was still unbelievably dramatic and treated me like I’m some kind of unreliable fool. “It’s late, and you know how I can be. I’d hate to keep you for nothing more than a poor summary and honestly, an embarrassing rant about plot or characters, because there’s just nothing as frustrating as when two people so clearly care about each other and both are too stubborn and oblivious to acknowledge it.” 

Kaz’s eyebrows draw together just enough for me to be able to make out a shift of expression in the poor light. Perhaps his lingering irritation is preparing to rear its ugly head. The corner of his mouth seems to threaten to tilt upwards as Kaz angles his head to the side slightly. “I can’t imagine that position.” 

No kidding. I bite my tongue to keep the sarcastic comment and awkward laugh that would sure follow it away. “Who can? That’s like half the point of reading.” 

How can interaction feel so over and just at its beginning all at once? I press my lips together to avoid filling the silence with things I’d no doubt instantly regret. It’s easy to be mad at Kaz in the moment. Too easy. But to stay mad at him when his temper has passed and he returns with some kind of begrudging and admittedly awkward and uncertain truce is another task entirely. 

“I’ve never understood your attachment to written words.” 

“It’s not about understanding, it’s about everything else.” 

“And you say I’m cryptic.” Is he...kinda almost joking? I straighten my spine, too tired to fight and too wounded to forgive. “There’s understanding in everything, nothing can survive on sentiment alone.” 

“If you read the way I did, you’d understand.” 

His lips press together as his expression remains unwavering in its hardness. “Read to me.” 

...Interacting with Kaz in any way often leaves me feeling like I’m wandering through unknown territory. But this, this is undeniably different. So different I can’t even think of a way to react. I watch his expression as cautiously as possible. He’s purely reserved, no distinction from the look he wears during business propositions. Except there’s a tightness I can’t quite understand.

Maybe it’s because I don’t want to fight anymore. Maybe it’s because exhaustion is leaving me partially delirious. Or maybe it’s the weird feeling in my chest that I can’t quite place. That I don’t want to place. “Okay.” I shift carefully. “If for no other reason then to prove you wrong.” 

Never did I think I’d end up in the position of sitting in my bed, book in hand, with Kaz Brekker sitting next to me. But here we are. I’m so tired, I almost let out a nervous laugh when he first walked in. So brooding and tall, gripping the head of his head cane as he sits at the foot of my bed, on my pastel quilt. 

I’m glad for the excuse to keep my gaze away from him and on the words in front of me. I read out loud, feeling more and more comfortable with each page I finish. But as my inhibitions slip away, so dos my hold on consciousness. My eyelids seem to grow heavier with each word that I read. 

“You’re falling asleep.” 

I straighten my spine on instinct. “Am not.” I’m not sure why I feel the need to deny something so simple. 

“You’re impossible.” 

From him, that statement is laugh worthy. “I’m impossible? Do you not remember earlier today?” 

From the way his jaw locks, I realize that he’s in no mood to be light about this topic. I don’t understand why. It’s not like I’m the one that wronged him. “I remember your lack of focus.” 

Keeping my hands at my side to avoid rubbing my eyes, I frown. “If you want to have this argument again, fine. Jesper is more ‘distracted’ than me half the time and you’re much more lenient on him. It’s not like I was flirting with someone or gambling or doing anything but having a two second conversation. One that I needed to have to get information that you wanted.” 

The last time we fought, I had more energy to restrain myself. This could be atomic. I hold my breath, waiting for Kaz’s retaliation. He exhales, eyes not meeting mine. “Arguing with you when you’re present is exhausting enough. It’s not worth it when you’re half asleep.” 

This angers me further. I hate that he’s right. “I’m not half asleep.” He leaves it at that. I glare even harder at him, slumping further into my bed. “But for the sake of argument, I’ll drop it. Something you’re incapable of doing.” 

At that, his eyes meet mine. I try to hold his gaze, but the harder I think about not seeming tired the more exhaustion slips in. A yawn escapes me before he looks away. Great. “I know when to lie in the grass in wait.” 

Rolling my eyes, I shift back slightly. He’s incapable of being less dramatic than this. Still, I can’t imagine the effort it’s taking on his part to not start an argument. Maybe this is why Jesper spent so long implying that there may be a Kaz and I in any capacity beyond a vague kind of friendship. “I’ll admit you’re tactful.”

“Resourceful people recognize that trait in other people.” 

Blinking twice, I lower my book slightly. Am I truly exhausted, or did he just compliment me in a way? “Careful, I may start to think you find me tolerable.” 

“Let’s not exaggerate.” Okay, now I know I’m exhausted because I think he might have just attempted a joke. Rolling my eyes, I decide not to acknowledge this lightness in fear that I’ll scare it away. “Y/n?” 

I press my lips together, worried about the destruction of our peace. “Yes?” 

“What did Jesper say to you? Earlier?” I pause, slightly unsure why we’re moving backwards. 

We’re in a decent place now, and I’d hate to ruin it. I’m too half asleep to lie eloquently. And it’s not like he’s an easily convinced man. “Oh, he said it so cryptically it took me longer than it should have to understand. And it didn’t help that it was something so...well, you might find it funny. As funny as you find anything, anyways.” Wow...I’ve spent such a long time talking. Rubbing the back of my eyes, I avoid his gaze. Exhaustion and awkwardness mix in my stomach oddly. “It seemed like he was trying to imply that you and I...me and you...” Why is this a difficult thing to say? It’s not like I was implying it and Jesper’s known for his oddness. “I think Jesper was implying that there was a you and I, or at least that there could be.” I’m too lost in a haze of almost sleep to watch his reaction. I let my head rest against my headboard even further. “Isn’t that odd?” 

He’s quiet for a long second, and then he finally speaks again. “Odd, even for Jesper.” The response doesn’t satiate me...what’s that about? I exhale, deciding that feeling is tomorrow’s problem. When I blink, I decide to let my eyes stay closed. Just for a moment. The sound of something shifting is what makes my eyes squint open. Kaz is standing, his expression unreadable as he straightens. “Goodnight, y/n.” 

At that, I sit up slightly, ignoring the exhaustion behind my eyes. “I haven’t finished the chapter.” 

“You’ve convinced me of enough.” A concession? How exhausted do I seem? My lips press together as I think of my next argument. Before I can get it out, Kaz leans forward. He grabs the quilt at the end of my bed and tosses it onto my legs casually. “Goodnight, y/n.” The meaning of his repetition is clear. His word is final. 

I find enough energy to manage a glare, but I pull the quilt over my legs anyways. “Goodnight, Kaz.”

[amethystpath-writes]

Monsters and Legends

Don’t worry, it’s fluff :)

(NOT A PR0MPT)

Villain and hero need to stop a bigger villain by somehow acting as a couple, only for them to share a single room and a single bed (im grinning so hard rn) I giggled when I read this request:

******

The phone rang once, twice, three times.

“Why are you calling me?” Hero’s voice was a groan, one annoyed and filled with malice- or was it anxiousness?

Villain understood he was probably the last person Hero would want to hear from. Why would the bad guy of the city be calling her anyways, and how’d he find her number? Those were questions which Hero could ask later. For now- “I need your help,” Villain pleaded right away.

“You need my help?” Hero laughed brittlely on the other end of the line. That’s how Villain heard it, at least. “What makes you think I would ever help y-”

“Supervillain.”

The line went silent as the horror of such a simple name settled in. It wouldn’t matter to Hero how Supervillain’s name still existed- why it was still being muttered, unforgotten. All that meant was that Supervillain was still prevalent, which further meant something needed to be done.

“Is he still alive?”

Well, I suppose that’s a question I can answer for now. “Yes, that’s why I need you. I can’t vanquish him on my own, Hero.”

Yeah? What was Hero supposed to do about it? She wasn’t capable of fighting Supervillain, even if she fought him alongside Villain. The two of them together were still no match for such a beast, a mistake made by nature. Supervillain wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t for his ill intentions.

“We beat him before, Hero,” Villain said after another long silence. “We can do it again.”

Hero said, “If we beat him before, then why is he back?” This wasn’t the first time Hero felt hopeless. Even before Supervillain, she had days where she was convinced Villain was unbeatable. She got past that part of her depression, obviously, but it didn’t mean that anxiety didn’t exist elsewhere- such as when it came to Supervillain. “Villain, I quit this business after the first round. I can’t…I can’t do it again.”

“I know.” Villain nodded, even knowing Hero wouldn’t see it on the phone pressed against her ear. “I know, and I get it.”

“If you did, you wouldn’t have called.”

Villain sighed. Maybe she was right, but… “You’re the only one I know who can pull this off.”

“Pull what off, Villain? What plan have you made up that you think might actually be enough? We killed Supervillain. We killed him, and yet you’re telling me that he’s alive? We can’t beat him.”

How could Villain say this? How did he portray this compliment without it sounding like an insult? “Where you lack in strength, you lead in intelligence. You- you’re able to think things out in a moment, whereas it takes me ages. You are so much more capable than you think you are and, believe it or not, I have always admired you.”

Right. Hero wasn’t so certain Villain was telling the truth. Sure, she was smart, and she could even admit that, but…intelligence couldn’t defeat an undead man. Even if it did, what made Villain say something kind to her? He would never spare a compliment to someone as poor as Hero; he wouldn’t spare an insult either. And anyways, who would admire an anxious mess? Not a villain, not by any means, right?

“Why do you need me? What has made you turn to a last resort?” Last resort, meaning asking anyone for help when Villain preferred to work alone.

Villain’s palms were sweating, his phone nearly sliding out of his hand the longer he remained on the line. “He wants my allegiance. Rejecting him would be a death sentence, and you know it. I don’t want to die. Not now. Not just yet. At the same time, I am not going to work for or with this guy.”

Hero was still failing to understand. “How do I fit into this,” she rephrased, “beyond you needing my intelligence?”

“Supervillain never knew you. He doesn’t know your face, your name, your priorities.”

“And?”

“And I told him I have a wife who insists on working with me.”

No. No, no, no. No. But she didn’t say this. “So, you are asking me to jeopardize my own life by appearing at your side as a fake wife who doesn’t know how to properly defend herself.”

“I could teach you, Hero. I’m trained. Strength means nothing if your opponent has technique. I can teach you,” Villain repeated, hands heating impossibly more. “Do this for me and I’ll- I’ll…”

Precisely. “There is nothing you can offer me, Villain.”

“If you don’t do this,” Villain returned, gripping his phone with white knuckles, and curled toes which dug into his carpeted floor, “everyone else will suffer for it. Yourself, included. I don’t know about you, but I think you’ve suffered enough.”

You don’t mean that, Hero wanted to say. You don’t mean anything nice that you’re saying. You’re just desperate. You know that I’ll do anything if it means someone will tell me they’re proud of me at the end of the day. She thought this of everyone- even herself, only she knew someone else was more likely to say they were proud of her than herself.

How did anyone ever call her a hero when she couldn’t even save her own mind from destroying itself?

Easy.

She was a villain to herself, and a hero to others.

“How do I know he’s alive? Am I supposed to take your word for it?”

Villain almost said yes, but he knew Hero would require proof. She didn’t trust herself, let alone anyone else in the world. “There is no evidence of him, but if you’d like to handcuff me every moment we are alone, then I suppose I will hand that to you as your security.”

Hero’s eyes widened. She didn’t have handcuffs; she was no officer, but for Villain to say that, and with such a serious tone…he wouldn’t say something so disadvantageous to him if he didn’t mean it- if it weren’t necessary to gain Hero’s assistance.

“What will it mean,” Hero asked, “to be your wife?”

***

“Supervillain paid for our room.”

Our room? Hero blinked hard before glancing around the hotel lobby. Well, it was beautiful, but Hero hardly had the brain capacity to think about that. “You said our room,” she commented, lips thin and an eyebrow quirked.

“We’re husband and wife.”

“We’re pretending to be husband and wife,” Hero said in a hush-hush tone, hand squeezing Villain’s for umph.

Even as she said it quietly, Villain scolded her lightly, “Lower your voice if you’re going to say things like that.” Villain began his trek to the elevator, arm extending behind him as Hero followed, hand still in his. As much as she hated this act, she sure did like to hold his hand, it seemed. Maybe it was her anxiety which told her any hand was a good hand, even if it were stained in life after life of blood and tears.

“I don’t want to share a room with you,” Hero whispered, so low that Villain wouldn’t have heard her fully had he not turned his ear towards her as they walked down the hall of the seventh floor. “How will I know you won’t take advantage of me?”

Right. No handcuffs. “You think I’d try to kill you after I called you and begged for your help?”

“It could be a trap,” Hero said, tugging her hand out of Villain’s, stopping in the middle of the hall.

“Maybe. But imagine if it isn’t a trap. Imagine you back out now, and the world goes extinct. What regrets would you have then? Surely, they wouldn’t be as bad as committing yourself to a trap, causing only yourself harm instead of billions.”

His tone wasn’t condescending, but it held such magnificence that Hero couldn’t help but cast her eyes downward and nod in silent guilt. Guilt because why couldn’t she have thought of such a scenario on her own? Was she selfish for being so afraid of Villain?

“You’re right.” Hero nodded. “You’re right and I’m sorry.”

Villain took her hand in his own again, softly, with fragile care. “You don’t need to apologize. Your nerves aren’t without reason. I’ll admit I’m not the most trustworthy man. I get it. Remember you are not jeopardizing yourself for me. You’re doing it for the world.”

***

The bed was comfortable- even with Villain laying by Hero’s side. Actually, Villain being by her side might have been what made it so comfortable. The blanket which the hotel provided was too warm, but the body heat which Villain radiated was just comfortable enough that Hero struggled to keep her distrusting eyes open.

“I don’t believe this,” Hero whispered in the dark of the room, expecting Villain to be fast asleep. Apparently, he slept as little as she did.

Villain rolled flat against the mattress before turning on his other side to face Hero, earning a light gasp of surprise from her. “About Supervillain?” he asked- suggesting that Supervillain was still alive.

After regaining a state of sanity, Hero mumbled that, yes, Supervillain being alive seemed unreal, but that wasn’t what she meant. She meant that she was laying next to a man who she both despised and was deathly frightened of, and yet she was comfortable with it- comfortable with his heat. It shouldn’t have meant much; it was only science at play, but it still irked her. Of course, Hero didn’t say any of this.

“It isn’t so bad sharing a bed, is it?” Villain yawned and did a little stretch with his arms, groaning as the skin and muscles of his torso stretched. “You have your side. I have mine.”

“Not so bad,” she agreed.

There was still a danger to it, Hero acknowledged. She was still side-by-side with a villain, still frightened by the thought of Villain silently reaching over the moment he heard Hero’s breathing slowing, pushing a knife against her sleeping body, and shiv her through without a thought. It was possible, and it was likely, wasn’t it?

“Have you thought about what you’ll do tomorrow?” Villain asked.

“Me?” Hero swallowed. “I…no, I haven’t thought about it.”

“That’s unlike you.”

Hero turned her head over her shoulder, finding Villain’s moonlight glinting eyes. “Asking someone for help is unlike you. What made you do it?”

“I couldn’t do it alone. I told you-”

“That’s not the truth. Well, it is, but it’s not the full truth.” Hero paused. “When have you ever admitted that you aren’t enough to accomplish a goal? You sought me out for my intelligence, but what else? You don’t ask for help, Villain. It’s not who you are.”

Silence followed, giving hero enough time to gather the courage it took to roll over, to face Villain with her whole body like he did with her before yawning.

“I’m scared,” Villain said, matter-of-factly. “I’m scared that when it is all over, then history will forget me for all the terrible things I’ve done.”

Confused, Hero asked, “Wasn’t the reason you chose the dark side because your crimes would be so extravagantly memorable?” This conversation wasn’t aiding Hero’s underlying fear of lying in bed with Villain. Still, she wanted answers.

“I realized I was wrong. If I don’t do something good for once, I’ll be remembered as a monster, and you see, I want to be remembered as a legend.” Villain drew in a deep breath, turning his head slightly away from Hero before exhaling. “There’s a difference between monsters and legends, I realized. Honour is legendary; Fear is monstrous. Having said that, there’s no fear in honour, so what’s the point in all those criminal activities except mindlessness and naivety? It’s not as fun or rewarding as I thought it’d be.”

“You stay awake and think at night like I do, don’t you?”

Villain nodded. Hero nodded.

Hero’s hand slid across the sheets until her fingertips touched Villain’s. Holding his hand was comforting when she considered they would be meeting Supervillain tomorrow- that Villain’s face would be the only familiar one, the only one she could trust even though she hardly even trusted it at all.

Hearing what Villain said now, in the deepest stage of the night…maybe he was worth trusting.

Maybe there was a good reason she was holding his hand.

And maybe there was a good reason she enjoyed the warmth that rolled off her body.

Maybe there was a reason beyond anxiousness and fear that made Hero’s heart beat a little faster than usual.

“Do you think we could both be legends?” Hero asked, to which Villain responded, with a tight squeeze of Hero’s hand:

“I do.”

It wasn’t the only time he would utter those words. Next time, Hero would be wearing a white gown, and Villain, a tux.

[pigeonp0st]

Hi! Since your taking some request I was wondering if you could do one about Wonder woman x reader where the reader is insecure about her body because she is literally dating a goddess and Diana notice her being distant and always avoiding to look in a mirror. Can it be like super fluffy and all. Thx I am currently binge reading each of your imagines 🥰love you and thx again

Diana Prince x Reader #1

Words: 1918

Warnings:

Self-loathing, Self-harm (not intentionally), body dysphoria , blood. Please don’t read if any of these things will make you upset or triggered!

Notes:

You said super fluffy and my mind didn’t register it holy fuck. Uh...oops? This is really dark and i’m sorry if it’s too far from what you were hoping for. I enjoyed writing it though, so thank you for requesting. (Sorry for spelling mistakes.)

————

You aren’t jealous of her. You aren’t.

It’s just...well...Diana’s a goddess. Literally. Even people who don’t know she’s Wonder Woman would call her that without question, just based on her looks.

And you’re...you're you. You’re you so you get asked often, by dense people not intending to be rude, how you managed to get with her.

You’re you so whenever you’re in a room with her you’re practically ignored. You're you so people’s eyes always widen when you say Diana’s your girlfriend, because HOW.

How, you can tell they’re wondering. Someone like Diana deserves to be with some rich model, not you.

God...you hate this. You hate feeling this way, and you hate that it involves Diana so largely. It’s not her fault the world is the way it is, it’s not her fault you’re the way you are, but it’s hard. It’s hard looking at her and not seeing all of your imperfections mirrored on her loving face.

It’s hard to look at her, and not compare what she looks like with what you look like. It's hard looking at her and not remembering all of the ways you’re undeserving...all of the ways you're not enough.

It’s not as hard as looking in the mirror though. You can stand the sadness when you look at her because she smiles so brightly sometimes, and she’s just so loving that it’s hard to think about negative things when she starts laughing.

It’s hard believing she can’t possibly love you when she’s standing in front of you doing exactly that.

The seconds she’s gone though...the second she’s gone it comes back in full force, and lately you’ve been so overwhelmed thinking about dealing with the ‘after Diana leaves’ that you’ve been avoiding being with Diana as much as you can.

You hate it, and each time you reject her with another excuse you hate yourself just that little bit more too.

—-

You can’t avoid her ALL of the time though, and it’s not like you want to.

Diana comes to your house one day, more unsure of herself than she usually is, and looks around the room like she’s unfamiliar with it.

It hasn’t been that long since she’s been here, you don’t know why she looks so curious about—

“All of your mirrors are gone,” Diana notes, freezing you in your tracks. Then, she glances down to your wrapped hands, eyes wide. “You’re hurt,” she whispers, completely concerned now. She reaches for you but you pull away before she can touch you.

“I’m fine.” You say it through gritted teeth and with adverting eyes, and it’s so clear that you’re not.

It’s so clear that you’re not, but Diana nods her head like she believes you and wraps her arms around herself like the room just got ten times colder.

Everything feels ten times heavier suddenly, too heavy when you’ve been so tired for what feels like ages. Fuck. You just want your girlfriend, you just want your goddess. Why do you have to worry about what the rest of the world thinks?

“Diana.”

She looks up immediately, confusion lined in every inch of her. She’s clearly trying to put the puzzle piece together but she’s missing too many pieces to understand.

You wonder if she’d even be able to understand if she had all of the pieces—if she could see what was happening to you. Could Diana understand something she’s probably never heard about in her island of beautiful women? Something she’s probably never had to deal with?

You don’t say any of that though. You don’t say the words that feel like they’re ripping your insides apart. Instead, you say, sheepish; “wanna watch a movie?” Like nothing is wrong in the world, because maybe if you act like it enough it will become true.

Maybe if you act like it enough you’ll forget last night, the night where you went around shattering every mirror you owned. Some of them with the impact of the floor, and others with your fist.

Maybe if you act like picking which movie to watch is your biggest concern in life, you’ll forget about the medical bills sitting on the counter because some of the glass dug in so deep all you could see was red on your hands, and all you could feel was helpless.

Maybe—

“Sure,” Diana agrees, offering you a comforting smile.

Maybe Diana deserves more than a person that deludes themself to stay tethered

——

You’re an idiot.

Your wallpaper switched from a picture of you and Diana to a picture of just Diana a month ago, but you stupidly forgot that Diana hasn’t changed hers also.

So naturally, since the world hates you lately, Diana’s phone lights up with a call—she completely ignores it while being completely entranced in the movie—and you glance at it to see if it’s someone important, someone Diana would want to answer to.

You pay zero attention to the person who called Diana after you see the picture.

“Diana.”

You don’t register it’s your voice speaking until Diana turns to you. She couldn’t register the sound of her phone ringing but she registers the sound of your voice and you love her, you love her, you—

“Change your background.”

Diana blinks, once, twice, then; “why? I like it.”

“Diana,” you repeat, heart beating a million miles a minute, and voice several pitches higher. “Change your background.”

“Why?” Diana asks again, but it’s softer this time, softer and on the verge of seeing the puzzle even without all of the pieces.

“Because people will—” you pause, your voice hitching, “please...just change your background, please Diana, please, for fucks sakes, please just—”

“Okay,” Diana whispers hurriedly, alarmed by your desperation and quickening breaths, and pulling you into her arms. “Okay.”

But you’re not done. “Not of me, Diana,” you continue, frantically. “Don’t change it to another one of me, okay? Change it to—to something else.”

Finally—finally, Diana tenses under you, hit with a realization that’s larger than her, and larger than her beauty, and something that isn’t really actually about her, something that’s always been about you, that she happens to involuntarily bring out more because of her affect on other people.

She’s hit with the realization on a Monday night, with you still frantic and broken in her arms from just one image. She’s hit with the realization in a home with no mirrors. She’s hit with the realization with a small, quiet mumble of your hardly comprehensible words; “Diana, they’ll think you’re crazy. I don’t want you to believe your crazy for—”

“Why did you get rid of your mirrors?”

It’s your turn to tense and become silent. You even try pulling away but Diana keeps her arms around you to keep you with her (to keep you tethered, because Diana works better than any delusion). “Y/N, why did you get rid of your mirrors?” She asks again, “why are your hands wrapped? Why can we never go out together anymore? Why is your wallpaper just a picture of me and not you, why—”

“I think you should leave.”

“Why aren’t you talking to me!”

Silence. Diana let’s out a stuttering breath and then she’s pulling you closer to her, closer, closer, and whispering over, and over again, “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to yell, I'm not angry at you, you’re okay.”

And you're shaking in her arms, clutching her coat, wishing for happiness without delusions.

Then...you’re being honest, telling Diana everything between shaky breaths, and sobs.

You’re giving her the puzzle pieces, not expecting her to understand what she’s looking at, but wanting her to care about it anyways, to find it important, and something worth looking at.

Diana lets you speak even though she’s clearly against half of the things you’re saying about yourself because she wants to understand the puzzle you built while she wasn’t looking.

——

When you’re done, and all that is left is dried tears on more than one pair of cheeks, Diana finally speaks. First though, she asks that you don’t interrupt her. You agree.

“Okay,” Diana sighs, “you won’t believe me—you can’t—but I find you to be the most beautiful person in this world, and any other, in these times, and any other.”

Here, Diana is wrong. You don’t believe this to be anywhere near true about yourself, but when you meet Diana’s eyes you do believe that this is something she believes without doubt.

This is something she believes as simply as the sky being blue.

“And that’s because of what you look like on the outside, but it’s also because of who you are regardless,” she smiles at you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, eyes full of nothing but love and concern, and then pain.

“Believe it or not,” Diana starts, voice soft, “I look at you, and everything you are, and sometimes i’m the one who feels undeserving. You feel...brighter than me sometimes. More...more everything, and I—sometimes I feel like you offer more than I give,”

Diana saying that is humorous because all she has ever done is offer, she offers even now after you’ve shown her cracks she wasn’t supposed to see...you’ve come to realize though that if someone feels something to be true... then it’s true to them, and it will hurt them just the same.

“I can not change the way you see yourself, just as you cannot change the way I see you, but I…” Diana pauses, staring searchingly into your eyes until you have to look away, “I want to help you. I will do whatever I can to make you believe me, i’ll tell you as many times as you need to hear it and…” another pause, this one longer and sadder…

“I want you to look at me love you, and then when I'm gone I don’t want to be a reminder of your unworthiness, but a reminder of the worth you possess, to me—and so many others.”

“Diana…”

“It’s okay,” she assures, “for now, if you can’t believe you're physically beautiful, I'll show you all of the larger, more meaningful things about yourself until all you can see when you look in the mirror is someone who brings light into people's lives, someone who is loved. Someone who is great.”

And you're crying again now, but this time Diana is the one talking. She is reassuring you, and she’s showing you puzzle pieces, except this puzzle is another one, this puzzle isn’t about the way you see yourself, it’s about the way she sees you, it’s about the way people who matter to you see you, and even the ones that don’t.

This puzzle is larger than the one you showed her, and from the pieces you allow yourself to see, the pieces you’re able to accept right now, it’s a more beautiful one.

For the first time in a long time, you can imagine believing all of the things she tells you. You can imagine it, and when you do you’re sobbing even harder, because yes. Yes, that is what you want.

Diana will be there by your side on the journey to love, like she was there to the last ‘love journey’...but this one isn’t about loving her, it’s about loving you exactly as you are.

Who better to get you to love yourself than the person who loves you most?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Tied With a Bow

A Holiday Drabble! I wrote this on my break so hope y’all enjoy it (please let me know what you think!)

Warnings: nonconsent/rape, kidnapping, mentions of stalking.

You open your eyes but the world remains black. You smell a fire and hear the crackle; the warmth waver against your bare legs. Your jeans are gone, the rest of your clothes too. All that hides your body is an unseen bra that tickles the front of your breasts and a thin, barely discernable thong.

You shiver. Your blindfold is thin and cool. A thick length of ribbon knotted at the back of your head. 

You remember slivers of what came before. Christmas Eve. You just finished up with your mother for the night. Your parents left the next morning for a Caribbean getaway and you were content at a quiet day to yourself. 

You never made it home. You recall that much. The footsteps just behind you and a glimpse back revealing nothing more than the snowy yard and your parents' glowing decorations.

It happened in the car. The engine rumbled and you drove off without haste. You remember a rustle behind you and suddenly a hand around your mouth. You lost control and it all went black.

Then you were here. You sit there for what feels like forever in the din of the fireplace flickering on the other side of your blindfold. You smelled pine and felt the nip of snow as it rattled the windows. 

Then voices. Deep, unfamiliar. You hold your breath and wriggle in the chair. Your hands are bound behind you and your ankles to the wide legs, you can do nothing but listen as the strangers come nearer.

"If you weren't do damn late," the words grow clearer and your veins sear with adrenaline, 

"Your present's just in there."

You're frantic as footsteps sound on the floor.

"Oh? You actually got me something this year?" A sardonic chuckle dies halfway as the steps stop. "Buck?" His tone turns to surprise.

"All yours," the other man responds, "a few scratches but she's in good shape."

"How--" he clears his throat, "wait..." suddenly the footsteps are marching towards you. You panic and struggle to free yourself. The chair rocks and is caught before it can fall over. A hand grabs your chin and stills you. "It's...her? You know?"

"All those solo missions. Always distracted. You usually catch on when I tail you but," the clap makes you flinch, "Surprising but I suppose you need something."

The hand falls away and you feel the stranger move past you. "And?"

"And what?"

"You don't think I'm crazy?"

"She's cute. Sweet. Hell, if I'd seen her first, I might have been the same way." A sniff between words. "How did you find her anyway?"

"Just... chance. I..." the man is hesitant. You're petrified. He's been watching you but you don't know who he is. "She has a family. They'll look for her."

"Let me worry about that," a snicker.

"I..." he's breathless as your heart is pounding. 

"Hear that," the other taunts, "go on and introduce yourself. Maybe she won't be so nervous."

There's a silence and you sense more movement. He's in front of you, you know it even though you can't see him. He says your name and you scrunch your nose to keep from crying. 

"Get away from me," you utter, "go!"

"Sweetie," he touches your knee and you try to shake him off. His hand grips you tighter. "I'm not going to hurt you." He sighs. "What did you do to her? You have to tie her up like this?"

"Got in a bit of a bender but she's fine," the other assures, "you can untie her but she's your problem then."

The man lets go of your knee and reaches around your head to untie the ribbon. He kneels before you as he looks you over, rubbing the ribbon between his fingers. You know him. You've seen him before, but never in person.

Steve Rogers is even bigger in real life. He smiles. Those blue eyes that always seem warm in pictures are startling.

"Please, let me go," you whine.

His brow twitches and he tilts his head; confused, pleading, you cannot tell. But you know from that look he won't oblige.

"You're scared?" He leans back on his heels. "You know who I am?" He watches you and all you can do is gape back at him. He holds out his hand. "I'm Steve."

He realises his mistake as you only blink at him and he drops his hand. He rubs his palms together and hesitates before he stands.

"I'm sorry about my friend," he looks to the doorway, "Buck, can you get her a blanket?"

The other man huffs but you hear him go. Steve turns to the fire and stoops to move a log from the metal basket onto the dwindling embers. He turns back and shifts his weight on his feet.

"I... I want to untie you but you can't run." He says carefully.

"If you think I'm going to run, why would you want me to stay?" You hiss.

"You can," the other man speaks as he enters. "One of us will catch you."

You glance over your shoulder as he nears and hands Steve the blanket. He watches and lets out a breath.

"I dress her up all nice for you and you’re coverin' her up?" he tuts.

You recognise him too. Captain America's ever loyal sidekick, Bucky Barnes. He grins as he meets your gaze and winks.

"Isn't she cute? Maybe I should have put her in white." Bucky sneers and smacks Steve's shoulder.

"You're scaring her," Steve smacks him with his knuckles, “sweetie," he turns back to you, "will you be good if I untie you?"

You look between him and Bucky. You squirm and blink away another wave of terror.

"Please," you whisper at first then repeat yourself louder.

Steve nods and rounds you. You feel him picking at your binds as Bucky rolls his eyes.

"Don't say I didn't try to help," Bucky grumbles and goes to the fireplace. "Any plans for her? I'm sure you've been thinking about it for a while."

"Enough, Buck," your hands fall loose and Steve comes back around to free your ankles. He looks up at you. "Please, don't listen to him."

You don't say anything. The whole situation is too confusing. Surreal. Your ankles come away from the chair legs and you slide forward. Steve stands and catches you by your shoulders before you can stand.

"You okay?" He plays with the fringe at the edge if the blanket as it rests over your shoulder. 

You sit back and shrug away his touch.

"I don't understand," you say, "I really don't."

"I didn't think it would be like this--" Steve is interrupted by a scoff and sends Bucky a sharp look. The latter raises his brows and strolls from the room with a sarcastic salute. 

Steve backs away and you watch as he passes the chair you sit in to sit on the long sofa. He pats the spot beside him.

"Can we talk?" He asks as if you could day no.

You rise and sweep the blanket around you before it can fall. You near him and sit as far from him as you can.

"I didn't think he would... it's my fault. I just could never build up the to-- to--" he looks down bashfully and drags his nail along the faded denim along his thigh. "To say hello."

"How do you... know me?" You ask.

"MrsRogersTeddy?" He smiles as his eyes flick up. The username, almost forgotten,  has you pressing yourself against the arm. You shake your head at him in disbelief.

"I haven't posted in years," you murmur, "how..."

"Well, that's why I went looking. The blog was inactive but I love your stories. They're so good."

"They're trash. Sometimes you just get so bored that living in dumb fantasies is better than anything in the real world. They were just stupid fics. They didn't..." his face falls and you speak slower, realising you've said you much, "mean anything."

He frowns and sits back, deflated. His fingers tap on his jeans. “They mean something to me.” He says deliberately. Slowly, he turns. “Don’t I mean anything to you?”

“I don’t know you,” you regret your words the moment they hang in the air before you.

“Then why would you write about me? Why?” The vein in his forehead sticks out and his jaw squares. “I don’t get it.” He grabs you before you can react and pulls you to him. The blanket slips between your bodies. “You wrote about us!”

“No, no, they were all made up. It wasn’t about--”

“Shhhh,” he hushes you as his hand stretches across your throat. He flexes his fingers as he pushes you onto your back and lowers himself with you. He crushes you beneath him as he frames your faces with his hand. “You love me.”

“No,” you murmur, “Steve…”

“Don’t.” His voice is harsh as you stare up into his eyes. His pupils dilate and he smashes his lips into yours.

You push against his chest, the blanket twists at your waist. The bra, a dark blue with white fur trim, threatens to reveal all. His hand brushes down your neck and arm as he traces the length of your body to your hips. He pulls your leg around him as he moves between your thighs.

A rush of panic rises within and you whimper into his mouth. Your head is spinning and you can’t breath. You can barely think. You’re trapped with a stranger. Smothered by THE Captain America. And for days, weeks, months, who knows, he’s been stalking you. You never knew. How could you? It was unthinkable.

He draws away and gazes down at you. “Say you want me,” he purrs.

Your lips part but you can’t speak. He doesn’t wait anyway as he kisses you again. He’s tugging at the thin string of the thong, exploring your body with his hands. He shoves his thumb beneath the cup of the bra and teases your nipple. He grinds against you like a puritan.

You gasp as you turn your head away. You gulp for breath as his lips continue to your throat. He’s ravenous, unstoppable. He’s kissing, nipping, and sucking your flesh. You grasp at his thick bicep and claw at his firm chest. He is immovable but you are not.

His hand slides along your pelvis. The thong is scrunched from the friction of your bodies. He hums as he grazes your cunt with his fingertips. He nuzzles your neck and fumbles with his fly.

“No,” you beg, “Steve, please…” you’re desperate. “You said you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“I’m not,” he groans as he wriggles and pushes down the top of his jeans and rolls down the elastic of his briefs. He struggles for a moment and you refuse to look anywhere but the ceiling. “I’m not, I’m not…” he recites more to himself than you.

You kick your heels into his legs but he doesn’t even flinch. His hand is still moving between you. You feel him prod along your soft thigh. You writhe, you need him off of you. You’re sweating, stolid. You’ve never been so afraid. He drags his cock against your folds.

“Steve--”

He claps his hand over your mouth and enters you in a single thrust. You exclaim into his palm as he shakes and holds himself deep in you. His head hangs beside yours and his fingers curl as he muffles your distress.

He rocks his hips carefully. You squeeze him between your thighs unable to do much else. It hurts how full you are. Each time he tilts, he’s deeper inside you. Your walls cling to him and you close your eyes to the world. You want to forget where you are but you can’t as he brings you back each time he moves.

His tempo builds steadily. You ache; for him, because of him. Your body rebels as your mind shouts for rescue. There is no escape. You are caught in his embrace; in his scent.

He lifts himself and his hand falls away from your mouth. You bare your teeth as he pins your shoulders and holds himself over you. He slams his hips down and you yelp. Your lashes flutter open and you see a beast atop you. He is not the saviour painted across glossy magazines and inky newspapers. He is a man, base and bestial.

His flesh slaps loudly against yours. You peek down at the joining of your bodies, his shirt rides up on his firm stomach as the thong digs into your skin. Your tits are out as the bra slides further down your arms and torso. 

He growls and your eyes meet. He hums but not for long, instead grunting with each thrust. He licks his lips as his gaze ventures down. He sits back and holds your hips. You cover your face with your arm. You’re cumming. You don’t want to but you can’t stop the tide that swirls around you. You’re drowning. You’re lost. You cannot find your way back in the storm.

His voice is louder. His groans carnal. He raises your left leg to rest against his chest. He hugs it as your muscles strain. You’re quaking, the entire couch is trembling. He bites his knuckles to stifle a cry. He bucks wildly as he spills into you.

When he is still, you feel as if you are still moving. Your thighs tingle and your vision clouds. He drops your leg and bends over you as he catches his breath. He blindly cradles your face as his breath washes over your chest.

“Merry Christmas, Steve,” a shadow appears behind him. You see Bucky watching you with a grin. “So… where’s my present?”

[duskholland]

The Fame Game (Part Five) || Tom Holland

Summary ↠ You have a mishap with a washing machine, Harrison’s a bowling prodigy, and Tom... Well, Tom is actually quite nice..?

Warnings ↠ Alcohol consumption, reckless washing machine usage

Word count ↠ 4.6k

A/N ↠ And with this part, we’re officially halfway through the fic...? Omg. Crazy crazy. I decided to give you a fairly soft chapter before I start messing things up in parts six-eight, so you’ve been warned haha. As always, thanks so much to everyone that’s been reading and enjoying the story - means the absolute world to me. Enjoy! :D

FIVE: I Wanna Hold Your Hand (Y)

Your trip to London is going well until you have a little mishap with Tom’s washing machine.

It’s not your fault, really. You’d been all over the place - press engagement here, fake date there - and you hadn’t been thinking as you’d shoved your brand new, freshly-worn red dress into the machine, alongside a collection of Tom’s favourite white t-shirts. It hadn’t even dawned on you what you’d managed to do until you heard a very loud, disgruntled yelp come from the laundry room.

“What’s wrong?” You yell reluctantly, voice echoing through the large house. You’re very comfortable where you are - burrowed beneath a heap of blankets and cushions on Tom and Harrison’s squishy sofa in the living room. You’re a week into your visit, and it’s safe to say you have made yourself at home. 

“Y/N! Do you not understand how a washing machine works?!” It’s Harrison. Immediately you feel trepidation creeping into your veins. “Come here!” 

Shuffling guiltily, you slowly make your way to the laundry room. When you enter, you gasp as you see Harrison holding up a shirt you recognise immediately as Tom’s, stained a nice, bright pink.

“Oh no,” you mutter. Your hands fly up to your face. “Are they all like that?”

Harrison nods, humming. For all the irritation of his yell, he’s looking at you with an amused smirk on his face. “Seems like you’ll need to do a bit of grovelling. I’m just glad they’re all Tom’s, and not mine.”

You pinch at the bridge of your nose. “Great,” you mutter. “This is fantastic.”

You take a bottle of water as your peace offering to Tom, who’s out in the back garden messing around with a punching bag. When he sees you, he pauses his punches, throwing out a toothy grin in your direction. He’s shirtless, lower half wrapped in a pair of black basketball shorts, and he looks quite nice with his face flushed a rosy red and his brown curls thrown in every direction.

“Hi,” Tom calls out, stopping his assault on the punching bag. “You alright?”

You manage a tight-lipped smile as you pass him the bottle. “Yeah,” you mutter. “Are you?”

Tom looks at you sceptically, raising a ruffled eyebrow. “Are you sure?” He questions. “You look a bit… stressed.”

You deflate. It’s as if he can see right through you. “Fine,” you admit. “I did something bad, and you’re going to be annoyed with me, but before I tell you what it was, I want you to know that it was an accident and I feel horrible about it, okay?”

Tom tilts his head, laughing nervously. “Is it as bad as the time you told Ellen I was the worst celebrity in Hollywood?” You shake your head profusely, gnawing your lower lip. Guilt sweeps across you, but you’re too nervous to focus on that now. “Then it’s fine, Y/N. Just tell me what happened.”

It’s odd - how quickly your relationship has broken down into something so much gentler. When you’d stepped off the plane and tumbled into Tom’s arms a week ago, you’d been full to the brim with apprehension about your trip. But he’s managed to ease you at every point - offering you tea, a nice bed, and unlimited time with his dog Tessa (who really might be your favourite Holland now). He hasn’t goaded you, or teased you, or pushed you too far. Part of you wants to know what’s changed, what’s catalysed his change of heart, but a larger piece of you doesn’t want to open up that dialogue for fear of him turning it onto you.

Tom’s being nice to you, and without any digging comments to respond to, you’re being nice in return. It really is that frustratingly simple. The residual tension and anger that has been a part of your relationship for so long have dipped beneath the surface, and whilst you still feel them somewhere, bubbling away, your relationship feels looser. 

Things between you are tender. Breakable and fragile, but like a tentative new beginning. You’re almost friends now - which is why you are so annoyed that you might’ve fucked it all up with one stupid mistake.

“I mixed colours in the washing machine and stained all of your shirts,” you blurt out. “I’ll buy you new ones.”

Tom takes a moment to process this, his face pinching into an expression of irritation. “All of them?” He repeats, his accent pronounced. 

“All of them that were in the washing machine,” you mutter, kicking at the ground. “Maybe ten.”

His jaw flexes, and you prepare yourself for a harsh insult or a snarky comment. You haven’t heard any recently, but you can almost imagine it, your mind familiar with his chide remarks.

Tom releases a breath. “It’s fine,” he says finally, defying all of your expectations. “Mistakes happen.”

You raise your eyebrows. “I’m really sorry,” you emphasise. You watch as Tom flicks off the lid of the bottle and starts to chug the water, using his other hand to card through his messy brown strands. His sweaty hair sticks to his fingers.

“It’s fine,” he repeats. Tom even throws in a bit of a smile to ease you. “I need new shirts, anyway.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Even better if you’re the one paying.”

You roll your eyes, releasing a breath of relief. “I knew you were only dating me for the money,” you tease, gasping dramatically. “You’re just a gold digger!” 

Tom clutches a hand to his heart, and you find your gaze briefly flittering over the defined lines of his muscular chest.

“I can’t believe you listened to those rumours about me,” he responds, his voice equally as performative as yours. “I thought you were better than this!” 

You descend into a round of giggles together, and Tom’s deep, hearty laughs are like music to your ears.

The following day, you find yourself walking down Carnaby Street, hand wrapped in Tom’s. Your other arm carries an array of heavy shopping bags. Despite halving your purchases with Tom, the bags weigh heavily on your arm, the tight lines of the handles pinching at your skin.

But you don’t care - not really. You’re too busy listening to Tom as he tells you about the last time he’d been down this street - last Christmas, with his brother Paddy, apparently.

“-Yeah, so that’s how he bullied me into spending five hundred quid on his present,” Tom finishes, pausing as you laugh. “He’s such a sneak.”

“Paddy seems nice,” you say. You’ve got a broad smile on your face as the warm spring sun beats down across your skin. It’s the first properly sunny day since you arrived in London, and it feels like the sun’s come out, just for you. “Your whole family seem lovely, actually.”

“Harry’s a bit of a twat,” Tom says, “But the rest of them are alright.” There’s a brief pause, and you glance over to see him looking at the ground, a thoughtful expression on his face. He looks up at you, nerves visibly in his eyes. “Would you want to meet them?”

You swallow back the apprehensive lump that forms in your throat. “Your family?” 

“Well, my parents and Paddy. You’ve met the others already. We’re planning on going bowling tomorrow night if you want to come with us.”

“You’d want me to meet your family?” 

Tom shrugs. “Yeah. They want to meet you.”

Your eyes widen, and you stop walking. Around you, shoppers and families pass you by, trailing up and down the busy shopping high street. Tom pauses, turning to face you, his thumb brushing casually across the back of your hand as he stares at you curiously.

“Don’t they hate me?” You ask tentatively. You both know why his family might think of you unfondly. Your family certainly doesn't view Tom in a positive light. 

Tom shakes his head, a bit of an awkward expression curling over his face. It gets uncomfortable now whenever your past is brought up. It seems both of you would rather skate around the topic than address it. You know avoidance is a bad idea, but pretending your relationship wasn’t built on resentment and crossed wires is easier than addressing the elephant in the room. Whenever you think about your history, it makes you feel angry - there are a lot of unforgiven sins hiding there, but you’re trying to bury them. You’re trying desperately to move on, but you can feel them following behind you like an anchor you don’t want to acknowledge yet. You can’t quite shake the feeling that this tactic of avoidance may, eventually, blow up in your face. 

“They’d like to meet you. You’re going to be a part of my life for the next three months, Y/N, and… And I’d like to think we are, uh, sort of friends now.”

You nervously bite at your lower lip, giving him a soft nod. “Yeah. We’re friends,” you confirm, mouthing the word tentatively. Friends sound nice, and your smile grows in strength when he squeezes your hand tighter. “I’ll come tomorrow. Thank you.”

Tom steps nearer, and surprises you by pressing his lips to your cheek. The skin warms at his touch, and you end up with a stupid grin on your face when he steps back.

“Thanks, Y/N. You’ll have a good time, I promise.”

And you just about believe him.

You’re glad that your days are filled with interviews and press junkets, because your nerves about spending the evening with Tom’s family still manage to build up, even with a thousand other things on your mind to distract you. It reaches the point where Harrison offers to tag along too, just so you have someone else to cling onto if it all goes awry. 

“You’re being a bit ridiculous about this,” Harrison mutters. You’re leaning up against the counter of the desks at the bowling alley, waiting on your bowling shoes. He’d come to pick you up from your last interview, and together you’d come to meet with Tom and his family at the alley. 

“I’m not being ridiculous,” you reply, eyebrows arching. You kneel on the floor, your fingers nervously unpicking your laces. “I just want to make a good impression. Is that so bad?”

Harrison joins you, the ring on his finger glinting as he starts undoing the straps of his shoes. “No,” he agrees, “But you really don’t have to be this cut up about it. They’ll love you.” He glances up at you, blue eyes glinting sceptically. “Since when do you care, anyway? I thought you don’t like Tom.”

You release a shuddering breath, shaking your head slightly as you stare at the patterned carpet. “Tom’s fine,” you find yourself saying. You stand up quickly, head spinning as you grab your shoes and place them on the counter. You rest on your elbow and look back to Harrison, who’s looking at you with an annoying smirk on his mouth. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You guys bought matching shoes,” Harrison states it like a fact as he reaches up to poke the toe of your new shoes. “I saw the same pair on him earlier.” 

You bite at your lower lip, shrugging. “We went shopping together. He took some of my fashion tips.” You don’t like the direction the conversation is taking, so reach out to elbow Harrison. “Tom’s finally recognised that I’m far more fashionable than him.”

Before your friend can respond, the bowling attendant returns with your bowling shoes and the conversation is swept away, just as your new white Converse get hurried back and shoved in a cubby. Harrison changes the subject as you both slip on the squeaky bowling shoes, and then he’s leading you up to the end of the bowling alley, where Tom and his family are waiting for you. 

Your first impression of the complete Holland family is their volume. They are loud, even as they’re split across two low, plastic bowling benches. Three either side, all six meeting in the middle with their voices clamouring together. Even as you and Harrison approach and you’re spotted, the conversation simply escalates - the topic of chat seeming to be which brother can lay out the most prominent greeting. It’s almost overwhelming, and Harrison seems to sense that as he’s quick to reach up and give you a discreet pat on the shoulder.

“Hello, everyone,” Harrison greets, exchanging a fist bump with Harry. You linger back, not entirely sure of your place within the fold until Tom’s mum rises from the bench and greets you with a kiss on the cheek.

“So good to meet you, Y/N,” she says warmly. “I’m Nikki, this is Dom, and that’s Paddy. You’ve met the rest of this noisy lot, I think?” Her eyes twinkle with comfort, and you feel yourself exhale.

There’s an exchange of pleasantries for a few minutes, and once you let go of the fear that Tom’s parents and younger brother might have gone into the meeting with chips on their shoulders, you’re able to relax. You end up gravitating towards Tom, who’s stayed sitting down on the bench, his arms crossed loosely over his chest as he watches the scene unfold. Tonight he’s in a black t-shirt and a chequered shirt, wrapped up in a pair of tight black jeans. Instinctively, your eyes skim around the rest of the alley, and you note the way you’ve already been spotted by a group of young men a few aisles down. 

“Hi,” you say, voice soft. Your lips spin into a smile as you meet his eyes. “We’ve already been recognised.”

Tom’s eyes lose a little of their shine, but he opens up his arms and tilts his head towards the empty spot beside him. “C’mere,” he urges, and you’re quick to comply.

It’s easy, now, to slip into your role as Tom’s girlfriend. It’s almost second nature as you sit beside him and let him wrap an arm across your shoulders, and it feels normal as he kisses your temple and squeezes you closer. It feels nice.

“Hey.” Harry’s drifting over before you can get too comfortable, his nose scrunching up. “You guys aren’t on the same team. Y/N, you’re on the wrong bench.”

Tom releases a deep sigh, and the vibrations rumble across you. “Harry, lay off it,” he mutters. 

Harry just crosses his arms over his chest, sharpening his gaze. “No. Y/N’s on my team, and I want us to win. That means none of this is allowed to take place,” he drags his finger between you and Tom, and you chuckle. 

“Are you competitive, Harry?” You ask him, already shrugging off Tom’s arm.

“Definitely.”

“Good.” You stand up, grinning at Tom’s younger brother. “Me too.”

But before you can walk away, Tom’s grabbing at your hand and pulling you back, standing as he brings the back of your palm up to nudge against his lips. He meets your eyes, his gaze swirling with something indistinguishable, and your skin feels warm in each place he kisses. He’s still a respectful distance, given how close you are to his family, but he kisses your cheek before whispering into your ear, “There’s no chance you’re winning this, Y/N. Game on.” He pulls back to smirk at you mischievously, and you chuckle in response.

“Game on indeed, Thomas.”

You’re not trying to be mean, but you do think the division of the teams is slightly unfair. On Tom’s side is him, Harrison, Sam and Nikki - facing off against you, Harry, Dom and Paddy. It goes well for the first few rounds, and you’re keeping up evenly with Harrison, who’s quite the proficient bowler, but you have a loose cannon in the way of Paddy. You’d decided to play without the guard railings lining the lane, and you sit through round after round of him tossing the bowling ball straight into the gutter. 

When it reaches round eight and your team is down fifty points, you decide to offer him some pointers. 

“Have you thought about twisting it- no, more like this?” You’re standing up beside Paddy, staring down at the lane together. The ten pins at the end glisten beneath the fluorescent lighting, highlighted a bright, winning blue. You’re itching to grab the ball from his hands and throw it yourself, but you’re trying to play nice. 

“More to the right?” The youngest Holland asks, looking up at you inquisitively. 

“Yeah. And when you’re throwing it, try to look at the pins. Keep your eyes on the prize.”

“Eyes on the prize,” he repeats slowly. Paddy steels himself with a deep breath, and you shoot him a reassuring smile.

“Go on, champ,” you encourage, stepping aside. You can feel the eyes of the group on the two of you, and give him a wide berth as Paddy approaches the line. You watch him play around with the heavy ball, weighing up his options, and then your breath hitches as you watch him implement some of your pointers. He moves fast - arm swinging, hair flicking, and then…

Strike.

A round of cheers goes up around the benches, and Paddy turns to you, ecstatic. “Did you see you?” He boasts, face flushing with a proud grin. “Look what I just did!” 

You walk over, meeting him in with a big high five as you beam. “Well done,” you congratulate. Paddy runs off to his family, and Tom wanders over, next in line to take his shot. Beneath the UV light, he’s glowing. The tips of his teeth gleam a weird blue as he smiles widely at you. “You see that?” You say, teasing, “That’s what I call star power. My team may lose, but I take full credit for nurturing such a young talent.”

Tom laughs, the sound deep and hearty, and with the hand that isn’t holding a bowling ball, he reaches out and rests it your shoulder. His fingers feel warm against your shirt, and as you drift nearer to him, the comfortable scent of his cologne tickles your nose.

“Quite impressive, I have to admit,” he concedes. “We’re still going to beat you, though.”

You shrug happily. “Whatever.” You lull into the comfortable thought that you don’t really care about the outcome of the match - it’s just nice to be spending so much time around so many good people. “Bring your best, Holland. I’d like to see you try to win.”

“A round of drinks for the losers, as promised.” 

It’s with a sombre tone that you walk back to the booth, three pints of beer balanced precariously in your hands. Harry trails behind you, grasping two. As you place the large glasses down on the sticky pub table, some beer sloshes down your fingers, causing you to screw up your nose as you shake it off.

“Cheers,” Sam says, voice dancing with amusement. Harry slams a glass in front of him, eyeing him hard.

“I still don’t believe the machine worked right,” Harry mutters. He slips into the booth beside Harrison. “There’s no way you guys won with mum on your team.” 

Harrison scoffs. “Stop being such a sore loser!” He exclaims, poking at Harry’s side. “We won fair and square. Have some grace and respect for yourself and get over it.”

Harry opens his mouth as if to respond, but you reach down to give him a comforting pat on the shoulder. 

“Don’t worry,” you assure him. “We’ll get them next time.”

He nods, eyes determined. “Definitely.”

You realise you’re still standing at the end of the table, and look to the bench on your left. With Harry, Sam and Harrison crammed there, your only option is to slip down into the booth next to Tom, who’s making quick work of his pint. He quirks an eyebrow as he sees you staring, eyes shifting suggestively at the free spot beside him until you sit next to him. 

As conversation picks up around the table, Tom rests an easy hand over the back of the booth, the tips of his fingers coming down to rest over your hair. Time slips by and he plays around absently with a few strands of your hair, shifting it around, fiddling with it - never hard enough to hurt, but present enough for you to feel it. In response, you rest a hand on his knee.

It’s interesting to observe Tom as the night draws on. He’s got several quirky characteristics to him that you’d never been aware of before. You realise he’s actually quite funny - always exchanging small sarcastic quips here and there with Harry and Harrison - but he also seems to know where the line is. When the conversation grows darker and Sam opens up about something close to him, Tom leans nearer, eyes full of concern and love for his brother. He speaks in soft, warming tones that you’ve never heard before, and they’re like assuring melodies to your heart. 

It’s interesting to see him show such care and consideration towards other people, because for so long, those qualities had been absent when it came to his interactions with you. You wonder if that was just because you’d been a dick towards him and he’d retaliated, or if maybe there’s always been something else hanging in the air between you - the type of emotion that doesn’t come out around family or friends.

As you relax by his side, Tom shows you many redeemable qualities, hidden away so close to the surface that you’re surprised you’d never seen them before. Your only explanation is that before - before this trip, and truly getting to know him - you’d been too reactive to notice them. Your past conversations had been coloured very differently, and you wonder how much of your history would be different if you’d seen this version of Tom, all those years ago, at the BAFTAs. The thought irks you, and you can’t help but think that you’ve wasted so much time fighting with him when you could’ve been chatting, easily like this, as friends.

“Excuse me? Hi?” 

You’re slightly tipsy as you look up to the side, realising you’ve been approached by a few people who look at you and Tom like they’re fans. You’ve inched closer to him, with his arm wrapped around your shoulders and your side snuggled up against him. You think it must be quite convincing, how much you look like a real couple.

“Hello,” Tom says, tilting his head to look at them. You can’t see him, but you can almost feel the perplexed smile on his lips.

“Um, sorry, this is probably really weird. We just saw you guys and wanted to say that you’re a really cute couple.” The fan looks at her friend, and they giggle together. “Are you guys planning on getting married? I think it’d be, like, the best wedding ever.”

Across the booth, you watch as Harry whispers something into Harrison’s ear that makes them both laugh. You throw a scowl towards them before looking back to the fans, taking Tom’s silence as a window for you to respond.

“Not at the moment,” you tell them sweetly. “We’re just seeing how it goes.”

You omit to tell them that in three months, you won’t even still be ‘dating’ Tom. You try not to think about how that fact rests uneasily in your chest.

“Aww.” The friends share a few pouts. “Could we get a picture with you both?”

There are a few rounds of photographs, then you come to the group decision that it’s time to pack it in and head home. You’re just glad the interruption came after you’d been in the pub for a few hours and not earlier. It’s always a risk being in public, but you’d assumed you’d be somewhat safe buried in the corner of a small London pub. You should’ve known by now that you can only remain anonymous for so long.

There’s a bit of a walk to the car park, and Harry takes it upon himself to tease you.

“So, where are you guys going on your honeymoon?” He asks, imitating the fan. “How long until you have kids? You’re both so sweet. Couple goals-”

“Shut up, Harry,” Tom grunts. He’s right beside you, your hands tangled up. You exchange an expression of frustrated amusement, and Harry barks out a laugh.

“Sorry,” he mutters, sounding the opposite. “It’s just funny.” He looks back at you, scrunching up his nose as he realises you and Tom are holding hands. “You know there isn’t anyone around out here. You don’t need to pretend.”

Feeling a little embarrassed by how easily and instinctively you’d reached to claim Tom’s hand, you let his fingers fall away. You shiver as the dark London wind whips around you, and your hand feels cold. 

You and Tom walk in sync, trailing behind Harry, Harrison and Sam. There’s a silence between you that feels almost tangible - stretched tight with unspoken words and observations. Eventually, he breaks it.

“It was really nice seeing you with Paddy earlier,” Tom admits. You glance to the side, noting the way his hair has fallen out of the loose gel he’d combed through it earlier. Chestnut curls frame his face - spreading out across his forehead, and you get the sudden urge to card your fingers through the strands. “He likes you.”

“He’s a nice boy,” you reply, smiling. “Got pretty good at bowling after I helped him, too.”

Tom chuckles, nodding. “You’re a good teacher.”

“I try.” There’s a soft silence again, and you nudge his arm. “Thanks for inviting me along,” you say. “It’s been nice getting to know everyone.” 

“Any time.”

It’s cold. It’s really cold. Your hand aches - too used to the warmth of Tom to feel content hanging alone.

“It’s so chilly,” you voice, shivering for effect. Tom glances at you, his brown eyes glowing in the dark. “I think my fingers are going to drop off.”

Tom chuckles, nodding in agreement. “Mine too.” He brings up his hand, flexing his slender fingers. Halfway through the action, he pauses, suddenly gaining a distant look in his eyes. “Do you want to, uh…” He offers you the hand, quirking an eyebrow. “Just if you’re cold, we could..?”

You bite your lip, keeping the smile at bay. “Okay.”

Your fingers tangle together, and the moment you feel his warmth against your palm, you feel better. Tom’s thumb brushes tentatively across the back of your skin, and though you’ve held hands on numerous occasions, this time it feels different.

It feels different because it isn’t forced. You aren’t holding him because you have to - you want to. And that’s the kind of different that would make your head hurt if you weren’t so distracted by the way his touch ignites a glowing warmth in your heart. 

Your hands rest comfortably between you, and Tom leans nearer, tilting his face so he can lay a gentle kiss to your temple. 

“Get warm soon, darling,” he whispers, keeping his mouth near your ear. His breath against your skin makes you shiver. 

Maybe it’s the drink, or the cold air, or the fatigue, but there’s a moment before Tom pulls back that your eyes find the slopes of his lips, and you wonder, briefly, what it’d feel like to kiss him without the eyes of the public resting on you. You wonder if it’d be different, like it is to hold hands now. Would he be gentle? How would it feel to share a kiss like that? 

Your eyes flutter shut for a moment, and when you open them, he’s moved away. Your heart clenches.

“Thanks, Tom.”

↠ NEXT PART 

please let me know what you’re thinking!!!! ask box is open and I am dying to know your thoughts! :D

series masterpost and the taglist can be found in my pinned post!

[ibijau]

I guess the question I have for the nhs is a half demon au is: what reason are we going to give for lxc to marry him after he comes back from visiting his mom? Also is he going to save wwx?

wwx did well for himself while nhs was off to live his little demon life, but he is the first person nhs visits upon returning among humans, because he's heard some concerning rumours...

On AO3

Small feet ran to the entrance of the cave, only slowing down at the very last moment and stopping just shy of actually coming in.

“Xian-gege, there’s a person at the gate,” Wen Yuan announced, careful to not actually shout.

Wei Wuxian smiled to himself, proud as always of this most excellent young boy he was helping raise, who obeyed rules much better than Wei Wuxian himself had ever done in his life.

“What sort of person?” Wei Wuxian asked, still hunched over his latest prototype. He was getting somewhere with this, he knew it. He just had to figure out how to…

“It’s an odd person,” Wen Yuan announced. “He says he’s here to see you.”

That was hardly news. Most of the visitors they'd had these last five years had come to the Burial Mounds to see Wei Wuxian. Sometimes, Lan Xichen would also come to see his brother and give them money. And in recent months, some people from the area had started coming to see Wen Qing in hopes she might cure them. But still, people mostly came for Wei Wuxian, either because they wanted to kill him, or because they wanted to join him. Either way, they were usually rejected.

“Did that man give his name?”

“He didn’t,” Wen Yuan announced, sounding indignant that anyone would be so rude. “He says you have to come see him, and then you’ll know him, and you’ll let him in. He sounded very sure.”

That intrigued Wei Wuxian enough to make him look up from his work and walk up to join Wen Yuan. A lot of people knew him, but there weren’t that many he knew, few of which would be sure to be allowed on the Burial Mounds, fewer still who would wish to be there at all. Jiang Cheng was the only person that came to mind, but he’d been around a few times in the years since Wei Wuxian had left Yunmeng Jiang, and Wen Yuan knew him well. Who else, then?

“That man, did he have any trouble walking?”

Wen Yuan shook his head. So it couldn’t be Jin Zixuan then. With his wooden leg, the climb to the gate would have been difficult anyway, and he would not have come unannounced.

“What did he look like?” Wei Wuxian asked, growing puzzled enough to consider meeting the stranger.

“He has a nice face, but it’s weird because of his eyes,” Wen Yuan said. “And he’s dressed with very good fabric, even better than Jiang-gege. And there’s a lot of teeth when he smiles.”

Without a word, Wei Wuxian started walking, with Wen Yuan following him. He didn’t like that description at all. He had hardly met him personally, but he’d heard about that boy in the Jin sect, that Xue Yang who was apparently trying to reproduce some of Wei Wuxian’s creations, with some success. He had an odd smile, Lan Xichen had said once when talking about him, so maybe…

“Oh, and there’s one more thing,” Wen Yuan said, slapping the side of his head. “I should have said first! But he has a mark on his forehead, it’s very red and looks a bit like a flame.”

Wei Wuxian froze.

“Xian-gege?”

“Go get Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian ordered. “Tell him there’s an emergency and I need him at the gate immediately. Wen Ning too. And tell Wen Qing to take everyone else to the hideout. No matter what, none of you are coming out until we come to get you. Go! Now!”

Frightened to see him so serious, Wen Yuan didn’t ask any question and scampered away as fast as his legs would take him. Wei Wuxian for his part hurried toward the gate after having made sure he had everything he’d need for a fight, knowing thing might turn vicious if he was right. He cursed as he walked, and hoped to be wrong about the identity of their visitor.

When he reached the gate and saw the man standing there, Wei Wuxian almost believed for a second that he’d been wrong indeed. The stranger, who had his back to the gate, was too tall, his shoulders too broad. But then, hearing that someone was approaching, the man turned to look at Wei Wuxian, and there was no mistake possible.

“Wei-xiong, it’s been a while,” Nie Huaisang said, smiling as if they were old friends who hadn’t seen each other for a few years. “You look worse than I remembered, but better than I expected.”

“Nie-xiong, it’s pretty bold of you to come here after what you’ve done,” Wei Wuxian retorted. “Couldn’t you have made it easier for everyone and stayed dead?”

Nie Huaisang's smile got wider, showing just a little more teeth than a mortal's would have. He looked better than he'd done last time Wei Wuxian had seen him. Healthier and a lot more confident. And why not? Last they'd been around each other, Nie Huaisang had been terrified someone might try to kill him, but he'd now proved just how difficult that would be.

“I would have, but some news reached me that forced me to rejoin the human world after all these years. Wei-xiong, won’t you let me in?”

“I hope you understand why I’d rather not. You have a history of slaughtering people I’d rather not see repeated.”

Nie Huaisang frowned and pinched his lips, looking almost sincerely hurt by the reminder of his past deeds.

“I’ve been told your shijie recovered,” he said in a softer tone, sounding more like the boy Wei Wuxian had studied with in Gusu. “And that Jin Zixuan too is… well, he’s alive, right? Don’t they even have a son?”

“They’re both doing as well as they can, no thanks to you.”

Again, Nie Huaisang looked wounded by the accusation. Wei Wuxian remembered how his old friend had been after the reveal of his true nature, the way he’d desperately tried to hide what he was, the terror he’d expressed in every letter they had exchanged… Still, what had been done couldn’t be changed, and Wei Wuxian hadn’t survived this long by trusting just anyone.

If anything, it was Nie Huaisang’s example who had taught him to be wary.

“Wei-xiong, you remember when we were in the Cloud Recesses together, and we made realgar wine a little before you were kicked out?” Nie Huaisang suddenly asked and though surprised by the change of topic, Wei Wuxian nodded. “All the other Nie disciples with us were quite stunned,” Nie Huaisang reminisced with a sad smile. “They’d never seen me drunk before. It’s a skill I’ve always had, though nobody at home really knew why. I can eat anything, drink anything, and never get sick… anything but realgar, which affects me badly, I’ve found since.”

Without thinking, Wei Wuxian nodded again. Realgar was used to ward off evil, and it was said to have a particularly strong effect on demons. That particular time, Nie Huaisang had only had one small sip because he’d found the smell of realgar wine unpleasant, and just that single sip had made him violently sick, and so irritable he'd bitten Jiang Cheng who'd only wanted to check on him… though of course most people would be in a bad mood after vomiting that much. At the time, none of them had thought there was anything odd with that.

Yet if he’d had more wine than that, Nie Huaisang might have died, or attacked his friends.

“It wasn’t the time of year for realgar wine,” Wei Wuxian noted, feeling himself grow more curious than angry. “So find a better excuse.”

“It wasn’t the season for it, and I didn’t notice the difference in smell,” Nie Huaisang agreed. “But the person who helped me recover from my wounds assured me that my blood was tainted by realgar, and I’ve learned since that there are ways to cover the taste, or to increase the effect. And Jin Zixun was ever so insistent on making me drink that day. Funny, when we’d never been close. Or indeed when I had been promised that he wouldn’t be there, since I didn’t much care for him.”

It was something that had always puzzled them indeed. Not just Wei Wuxian, but Lan Wangji too, and even Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli when they’d had a chance to speak about that. As far as everyone had known, Jin Zixun had been in hiding at that time, terrified that Wei Wuxian might try to kill him for what he’d done to Wen Ning and his family. And Jin Zixun had been quite vocal regarding what he thought should be done to Nie Huaisang, too.

Odd that he’d come to a Night Hunt where were present not only Wei Wuxian’s beloved shijie, but also the terrifying demon that terrorized everyone.

It sounded a lot braver than Jin Zixun had ever been known to be.

“It’s easy to blame a dead man,” Wei Wuxian remarked.

“And it’s easy to blame a demon,” Nie Huaisang retorted. “Especially for someone who’d have the demon’s trust. Funny also how this incident ensured that Qinghe Nie became isolated and despised, just when it was considered the one sect which might have stood against Lanling Jin’s ambitions.”

Wei Wuxian shrugged. He’d personally also profited quite a bit from this conflict between the Nies and the Jins.

It had distracted everyone from what he was doing in Yiling. By the time the Jins had emerged fully victorious from that political battle, Wei Wuxian’s presence in the Burial Mound had been secure, while the Jins had been too busy securing their new power to think of attacking him. Besides, with him no longer part of Yunmeng Jiang and thus not involved in politics, and with his actions having made it clear that he wasn’t a threat, everyone had found it easier to leave him alone. Sometimes someone would still wonder if he should be annihilated, but a few words from Lan Xichen or Jiang Cheng seemed to usually be enough to put an end to that, at least for now.

Everyone might start thinking differently if he associated with a demon though.

“Supposing I believe you,” Wei Wuxian said, and he was ready enough to believe Nie Huaisang, demon or not. “I’m not sure what I can do for you.”

“Don’t think of it as you doing something for me, Wei-xiong. Think of it as the two of us teaming up to protect our families. You see, demons gossip just as much as mortals do, and I’ve been hearing a few worrying things while living with them. There’s a reason I know your shijie has a son, you see.”

Wei Wuxian shivered, but before he could ask for details, Wen Ning and Lan Wangji arrived at last. They were both stunned to see Nie Huaisang, though Lan Wangji had to be the more shocked of the two, since he would actually recognise the young man, while Wen Ning had never met him before.

Smiling faintly, Nie Huaisang bowed elegantly to the two newcomers, as if this were but an ordinary meeting between old friends.

“Lan gongzi, I did not expect you had really come to live here!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed with something like real joy. “I suppose gossip these days carries more truth than I’d have expected.”

“Fine, I’ll bite,” Wei Wuxian said. “What have you heard about my shijie and her son?”

“Let me come in,” Nie Huaisang replied. “And then we can talk.”

It felt like a trap, and maybe it was one.

Even after having disappeared for years, Nie Huaisang knew Wei Wuxian’s weaknesses. It had been a mistake perhaps to write to him back then, to confide in him, to stay his friend when the rest of the world shunned him… but Wei Wuxian too had needed a friend after the Sunshot Campaign, and Nie Huaisang had never judged him for what he’d done, not even before his demon blood was revealed.

This was a mistake.

And yet, Wei Wuxian opened the gate.

[hyenahunt]

Conquest - Prologue

Writer: Akira

Season: Spring

Proofreading: royalquintet (JP & ENG)

Translation: hyenahunt

Hiyori: But the problem is, we're not enemies at all. We're allies, aren't we?

[Location: ES Breakroom]

[One day in late spring...]

Hiyori: "Eden Breaks Up?! The decisive battle fans have all been waiting for: Adam VS Eve —"

—Or so says this ridiculous performance plan I just received over HoldHands.

I'd greatly appreciate a detailed explanation of just what is going on. Depending on your answer, chances are I won't let you off.

Nagisa: ...Wow, Hiyori-kun, your expression is frightening.

Ibara: Aye-aye! Allow me to offer you an explanation. After all, it is my job to see to it that this incomprehensible world is dissected, cooked up and arranged for serving.

That being said, however, this appetising proposal came from the higher-ups themselves, and as such I myself am not too clear on how it came to be.

All the same, I do have some grasp of the overall outline.

Nagisa: ...I had no idea about this. While I did receive it on HoldHands, I leave all administrative matters to Ibara.

Hiyori: Nagisa-kun, you're pretty much the leader of both Eden and Adam, aren't you?

I do feel it would be for the best if you managed such things yourself, but well, everyone has their individual strengths and weaknesses, I suppose?

Nagisa: ...Yes. I'd rather not concern myself with the everyday world. It's troublesome.

...And having Ibara look over it results in a more accurate understanding. He's the right person for this.

Ibara: Ahahaha! Receiving such praise and trust from you is truly an honour, Your Excellency!

Nagisa: ...I simply state the truth. By the way, Jun, did you know about this proposal?

Jun: Ugh, please don't drag me into this, Nagi-senpai. Ohii-san's been in such a crazy awful mood all morning and I wanna have nothing to do with it, y'know~?

In situations like these, I'm the one who usually ends up as his stress outlet, after all —

But whatever, I guess. What'd that proposal say again...?

It sounds like something only the unit leaders receive, so there's no way an underling like myself would know anything about it, yeah~?

Nagisa: ...Ahh, it does seem like that's how it works.

...It's set up so that all messages I receive are immediately forwarded to Ibara, so it doesn't concern me, though.

Hiyori: Nagisa-kun, are you alright with that?

If you leave every little thing to Ibara like that — or grow dependent on him, I should say—then aren't you going to have trouble living on if he randomly drops dead one day?

Ibara: Worry not! I won't be dying any time soon — I cannot allow myself to die when we've gotten this far already!

Hiyori: Well, even if Ibara does kick the bucket, I can look after Nagisa-kun like how I used to so everything will be just fine.

Ibara: Indeed, should such a situation ever arise, I will leave him in Your Highness' capable hands.

...Anyway, to return to the topic at hand, I do believe the current proposal isn't completely devoid of points worth considering.

Hiyori: ... In what way, may I ask?

Jun: (Woah. Ohii-san's face is seeeriously scary as hell right now. He's usually all silly laughs and smiles, so when he's got a serious face on you know shit's gonna go down.)

(This time he seems kinda actually really upset about things, huh?)

Ibara: Right. Firstly, it is essential to note that this proposal is by the restructured top brass of CosPro, after the majority of its executives were fired due to the scandal at the end of last year.

They're all most eager to repair their damaged reputations — money is no object in their quest to prove their innocence and competence.

So in short, they intend to create something of great extravagance with this proposal. They'll pull out all the stops, no matter what it takes.

And since this comes right on the heels of the scandal, even the higher-ups will be careful not to attempt anything dubious behind the scenes — so everything should be safe.

Nagisa: ...Well, true fools tend to repeat the same mistakes over and over, though.

Ibara: All the same, it's common knowledge that after the last scandal, we as Eden collectively denounced and drove out the top brass.

Taking that into account, the fact that they've put out a proposal means that they're prepared to face such a situation once more.

This is a proposal of great importance—one that puts their lives on the line, if you will.

At the same time, if we were to reject this proposal, which is composed of the desperate desires of these higher-ups, they'll simply shrink away and believe anything they do or say will be pointless.

I'd greatly prefer to have some clumsy fools bumbling about their jobs rather than frightened figureheads cowering in a corner.

To be frozen in place is no different from being dead, after all. And corpses certainly can't be mobilised for war.

Simultaneously, always saying anything and everything is out of the question will never allow for growth in us humans.

...Well, such overprotective and motherly behavior seems to be a favorite of His Highness Hiyori.

Hiyori: ...In what sense? I certainly feel as though you're mocking me right now, you know?

Ibara: Of course not, I would never do such a thing... It is but a misunderstanding.

But in any case, for the sake of the top brass gaining experience, and to grant them that sense of self-confidence and achievement, I would dearly like for us to accept their proposal.

Nagisa: ...It's actually an interesting proposal, too.

...A confrontation between Adam and Eve... I've never considered such a thing before.

Jun: Well, it kinda feels like something guys would be pretty into. It's almost like pro-wrestling.

Seeing who'd win if Adam and Eve faced off... that might really catch our fans' interest, actually~

Hiyori: Ngh... A lion is still the king of beasts even if he doesn't go around proclaiming it, right?

Ibara: Certainly. That being said, a performance is essential in allowing the masses to actually understand this, as they are rather slow on the uptake.

And it is for that purpose that we now have this current plan: "Conquest".

For us of Eden, who were regrettably only the runner-ups for the idol world's greatest festival, Winter Live, at the end of last year...

Perhaps it's a rather ambitious event, to try and realise that domination that once slipped through our grasp —

That world domination, thwarted by Trickstar, or rather obstructed by traitors within our own camp.

Now is the time to see it through — that, I feel, is the current sentiment borne by the higher-ups of CosPro.

Conquer all, and we shall seize the world within our hands.

Hiyori: Well, in all honesty, I do have faint regrets that we weren't able to conquer the nation at the end of last year.

But we'd still be able to make the world ours just by doing things as we always have. Why make a show out of something so unsightly as an internal quarrel—

Ibara: That's not the case. ES has now been established, and in this new era of oligarchy between the four agencies, it'll prove difficult to stand out if we simply go about our days without aim.

If we are to use a single showpiece to launch ourselves to the top, then it is essential for it to be explosive in nature.

In that sense, I believe Conquest is the ideal plan for it. Since the earliest times, people have always been drawn to showdowns of destiny, after all.

Such as Holmes and Moriarty, Godzilla and King Ghidora, Goku and Vegeta... Would you understand those examples, Your Highness?

Jun: Oh, I totally get you.

Ibara: Good. Let's see... it would be something akin to the War of the Roses — does that make sense?

Hiyori: Mm... I can't deny that a showdown between age-old enemies would be exciting, of course.

But the problem is, we're not enemies at all. We're allies, aren't we?

No... I consider Eden a family, but am I the only one who feels that way?

Nagisa: ......

✦✦✦✦✦

✦ all ✦ next →

[engie-ivy]

do you have a fic where remus confronts Sirius of believing he was the spy (like maybe canon divergence - they all live) and refuses to agree that just because there was a war doesn’t mean he should’ve not trusted him or used the excuse that he’s a werewolf not to believe him

Hi!

I have fics that deal with the suspicions and false accusations during the war! But these do take on a more Fluffy path, and eventually lead to them being understanding and forgiving of each other's behaviour😅

You might like the confrontation in

If Tomorrow the World Crumbles

“Well, what am I supposed to bloody think, then?” Sirius shouted back. “You’re obviously keeping things from me! How is this sketchy behaviour going to make anything better? Why couldn’t you just come talk to me, so you could have proven that you’re not-”

“Because I shouldn’t have to proof anything to you!” A hint of pain was seeping through in Remus’s frustration. “All my life I’ve had to proof myself to everyone, and all my life I’ll have to continue proving myself, simply because of what I am, but not to you. Never to you. You’re supposed to believe in me! You’re the one person who’s supposed to be on my side.”

And here's an excerpt from my longer fic

If Only You Knew the Whole Story

He’s sitting in a chair. His arms are handcuffed behind his back and his ankles are chained to the legs of the chair. Protective spells are placed around him, making it impossible to come any closer than half a meter in his vicinity, though there isn’t much he could even do without his wand. His long, dark hair is tied in a messy bun with loose strands falling over his face, and he still has the muggle clothes on he was wearing when he got arrested.

He’d been wearing muggle clothes a lot. When James teased him about it, he told him to go try and ride a motorbike in flapping wizarding robes and then come talk to him. No one particularly minded seeing him in tight fitted muggle clothes anyway, as the man has always been unfairly good-looking.

He looks up as Emmeline enters the room, his grey eyes empty and emotionless.

Sirius Black.

“I didn’t think you’d come back. You seemed rather pissed off when you left the last time.”

“I’m pissed off at you by default. But I did some fact-checking on your previous claims.”

Black rolls his eyes. “If you looked him up in the Animagus register, I could have told you-”

“Actually, I went to a more direct source.”

“Hello, Black.” Remus steps in the room, his eyes focused somewhere on the logo on Black’s worn-out band shirt, deliberately not meeting Black’s eyes, his mask of indifference firmly in place. Emmeline understands his need to not show any emotion in front of Black.

Black’s face, on the other hand, is a whole different story. It’s hard to imagine his eyes were so void of emotion just a moment ago, as a variety of emotions passes over his face.

Disbelief. Hope. Fear. Guilt. Pain.

When he speak, soft and barely audible, his voice sounds so broken that it sends a shock through Emmeline’s body. She can tell Remus feels the same, as his eyes snap up to Black’s face.

“Remus? Please...”

“I messed up, Remus. I messed up so bad. But if only you knew the whole story-”

“You’re going to tell me the whole story,” Remus interrupts, his voice cold and bitter. “The real story.” He opens his palm to reveal the small flask of Veritaserum.

Now, Emmeline was expecting anger. Anger as Black would realise he wouldn’t be able to make up stories anymore. Anger as he saw his plans of manipulating Remus with his lies go up in smoke. Emmeline may have understood shock, that they would actually dare to force him to take the truth potion, or maybe even panic, now that his ploy is officially over.

What Emmeline did not expect, however, was the look of sheer hope on Black’s face, like he’s a dehydrated man who has been wandering the dessert for days and Remus is holding a glass of fresh, cold water.

“Yes,” he says pleading. “Yes, please...”

It completely catches Emmeline off guard, and she can tell Remus is also thrown off. He stares at Black dumbfounded and seems unsure what to do next. He fumbles with the flask, opening it and sliding it across the table towards Black.

As they can’t get near Black with the protective charms surrounding him, Emmeline doesn’t know what they would have done of he had simply refused to drink the potion, but then again, that would have said enough of itself, wouldn’t it? Now, however, Black wastes no time in bending forward, taking the flask between his lips and throwing his head back, gulping the potion down.

After Black has dropped the empty bottle back on the table, he sits motionless in his chair, his eyes closed. Remus is staring at him intently, his mouth in a hard line and his knuckles turning white where he’s gripping the edge of the table. The moment can’t have lasted more than a few minutes, but it feels like an eternity. Despite all her talk about only doing this for Remus, not believing anything will come of it, Emmeline feels nerves coursing through her body. There’s a heavy tension hanging in the room and the air feels thick. Emmeline can only imagine what this moment must be like for Remus.

After what seems like hours, Black slowly opens his eyes. “It wasn’t me.”

So few words hardly more than a whisper, but their impact couldn’t have been greater if he had shouted them in their faces.

Remus’s legs threaten to give out from under him and he supports himself on the table, staring at the wood while gasping for air.

“It wasn’t me, it wasn’t me, it wasn’t me.” Black repeats the words like a mantra.

Remus lifts his head, and upon seeing the pain, hope and confusion on his face, Emmeline wants to run to him, support him and start questioning Black, but at the same time she feels like she needs to stay out of it for now, this needs to be between them.

“What wasn’t you?” Remus breathes. “I need to hear you say it.”

“Everything. Any of it. The murders, the betrayal. Rem, I wasn’t even the Secret-Keeper!”

“But... But...” Remus tries desperately to order his thoughts. “Peter?”

Black nods silently.

Remus shakes his head. “No, no. James insisted! He would never choose anyone but you!”

“No, he wouldn’t.” Black replies as he shifts his gaze downwards, sadness reflecting in his eyes. “Not until I convinced him to. Merlin, I thought I was so clever! A perfect way to throw them off track. Who would even consider it being anyone else?”

“But you told me it was you! Those evenings we spent talking about it...”

“I lied! I lied to you, Remus.”

Remus stares at him for a while. “You didn’t trust me.” It’s not a question.

“We knew there was a spy,” Black says, looking absolutely miserable. “We just didn’t know who.”

“And I was the logical choice,” Remus states. “I assume because I’m a dark creature?”

“Yes. It was because you’re a werewolf.” Black looks Remus straight in the eyes. “Because you have fifteen years of experience keeping secrets and hiding who you are. And you’re so damned good at it! Better than anyone I know. Dumbledore always chose you for the most secret missions. You were the only one amongst us no one had any idea of where they were going or what they were doing.”

“That wasn’t by choice!”

“I know, I know. Remus, you have to understand. We didn’t think you were the traitor, we just couldn’t be absolutely sure that you weren’t the traitor.”

Remus swallows and looks away. “What’s the difference?”

“The difference is that I felt with every fibre of my being that I could trust you and you would never hurt us!” Black speaks. “But at that time, I couldn’t allow myself to feel, I had to think. And logical thinking, shutting off all emotion, said that none of us could say with one hundred percent certainty that it wasn’t you. With Harry’s life at stake, we couldn’t afford to take any chances. It was best not to tell.”

Remus nods, but he’s still not meeting Black’s gaze.

“Remus, please look at me,” Black says earnest. “I need you to know this. We still would have died for you in a heartbeat, Lily, James and me. We still thought the world of you.”

“But I thought the worst of you!” Remus’s breath hitches. “I despised you, wanted to hate you! If I had found you that night, I would have...”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, doesn’t need to.

Black doesn’t look shocked, or even angry. He just looks immensely sad.

“Why wouldn’t you have? I fucked everything up, Remus. I lied to you, I trusted the wrong people, I distrusted the wrong people, I convinced James to take a path that lead straight to his death. And I can’t even do the only thing James asked me to do in case the worst would happen! I can’t even take care of Harry, like I promised I would. I abandoned him in my failed attempt at revenge, another one of my numerous mistakes. I literally can’t think of a single thing I haven’t screwed up these last weeks.”

Remus just stares at him. Only after a long silence, he speaks.

“You really are... you.”

Black just blinks at him.

“I mean, the boy who snuck out of the dorm to keep me company in the hospital wing, the boy who bribed the house elves to make my favourite chocolate cake on my birthday, the man who wanted me to stay with him when I had no place to live and never let me go, the man who once attacked five Death Eaters on his own because one of them had tried to use the Cruciatus curse on me... That person was not a facade, an act or a lie. That person was really you. You’re really that person.”

“Telling you I was the Secret-Keeper was hard for me, as it was the first and only time I ever lied to you, I promise.”

“I know,” Remus slides down in the chair across from Black. “And it’s okay, Sirius. It’s okay.”

Sirius closes his eyes for a moment. As he opens them again to look at Remus, they’re filled with relief.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “It’s just... You’re the only person who I couldn’t bear to see me as a monster.”

Remus smiles softly. “Yeah, I know that feeling.”

I hope you still like it, though it might not be exactly what you're looking for!

[delimeful]

not always what they seem (2)

warnings: inappropriate jokes, remus being remus, mild panic attack, fear, miscommunication

long overdue commission for @legendsgates​! thank you for your patience and support 💚

Chapter 1

-

Janus watched the giant creatures around them devolve into more of that buzzing, clicking language as Remus waved his arm around enthusiastically in response to them.

“What are you-- Stop that,” the emo kid hissed, his whole body going tense, and Janus leaned back slightly just in time to avoid getting caught in the half-tackle that Remus was subjected to. “What if they just asked who wants to be first to be dissected, huh?”

“Oooh, kinky,” Remus cackled from where the kid had pinned his wrists to the floor. “Do you think they’ll probe me first?”

Janus rolled his eyes, and then stiffened as a shadow fell over them. “Kid—!”

He could see the moment the red alien’s hand made contact, the kid’s face immediately draining of all color as those strange talons wrapped around him and started to lift.

Almost instantly, Remus surged to his feet, grabbing the kid’s arm before he could be lifted out of range. The hold was so tight it almost looked painful, but the kid clung back desperately. He looked smaller than ever without the bulky hoodie around him, his frame barely concealed by a worn, slightly oversized band shirt.

Remus’s face twisted into a snarl. “Hey, hands to yourself, you shitty Mothra rip-off!”

Janus quickly rose to his feet as well, looking up past the kid’s terrified gaze to see the alien had paused, it’s strange antenna protrusions twitching. The facial features didn’t give him much to work with, so he attempted to see what the creature was seeing, contextless: the kid tackling Remus for big showy arm movements, Remus coming after him. Was it trying to seperate them like a pet owner with a pair of squabbling dogs?

He shifted forwards, setting a hand on Remus’ shoulder and expertly drawing all attention to himself. Remus glanced at him and then reluctantly cut off his litany of extremely descriptive curses, though his grip on the kid didn’t falter. Janus tilted his head back to carefully lock eyes with the alien.

“No. Stop,” he spoke with a stern emphasis. “Put him down.”

He reached up to grab the kid’s arm as well, tugging lightly, and then repeated himself slowly.

“Double D, buddy, I’d bet all three of my balls that they don’t understand English,” Remus said, “no matter how slow you say it.”

Janus didn’t break eye contact with the giant, moving to point at the kid and then the floor of their enclosure emphatically. “That doesn’t mean we can’t communicate with them.”

At the perfect moment to dramatically accentuate his point, the alien seemed to concede, lowering the kid down until his feet were touching the floor. The guy tore out of the oversized grip as soon as it loosened, nearly tumbling head over heels. Janus caught him by the arm, and Remus took the opportunity to jump forwards and click his teeth menacingly at the giant hand. The alien recoiled immediately, looking much like an elephant shying away from a mouse.

“I volunteer to get probed and this is how you fucks repay me? Just grabbing kids all willy-nilly? Have some respect!”

The kid muttered something, half-lost under his panicked breaths, and Remus turned to look at him. “What was that, short stack?”

“Virgil,” he repeated irritably. “It’s Virgil, not ‘kid’, definitely not ‘short stack’. I’m twenty years old, for fuck’s sake.”

Janus and Remus shared a glance over the newly-named Virgil’s head, and that was enough to set the man off into another fit of cackling laughter.

---

Roman watched, enthralled, as the little creature bedecked in green threw its head back and made a hair-raising clamor.

Intriguingly enough, the other two didn’t seem to react too strongly to such a loud outburst. The yellow one turned its face to the side as its tiny features pinched into an expression that Roman couldn’t quite decode, and the shaky purple one’s pale face seemed to shift color as it made an emphatic hand gesture of some sort. Patton would be taking plenty of notes later.

The motions, the expressions, they were all intentional and full of meaning, just like the pointing and sounds Yellow had made when Roman had tried to separate Purple from the group. He still didn’t quite grasp why the other specimens had responded so strongly; Purple had clearly been attacking, though thankfully no serious harm had occurred thanks to Roman swiftly jumping into action.

“This is incredible,” Logan murmured from beside him, and Roman couldn’t help but agree.

“There’s so much to analyze here,” he mumbled. “Any small animal would flee from a predator’s grasp, but they recognized that we’re sapient, and Yellow even approached instead to mediate!”

“Yellow?” Patton asked, a bit of teasing in his voice. “I thought your nicknames were always a bit wordier?”

“I can’t properly nickname someone unless I have their self-presentation and personality, Pat!” Roman defended. “It’s more of a… designation. After all, I can’t very well ask their names, can I?”

“I mean, we could certainly try!” Patton suggested with an optimistic lilt to his voice. “I’m not a linguist for nothing, y’know!”

“It might take some time to communicate intent, so I wouldn’t get your hopes up, Patton.” Logan’s ears flicked at the pleading look the Nihl sent him. “Still, I’ll admit there’s… no harm in a first attempt.”

Roman unsubtly chittered a laugh at his coworker’s expense, and Patton brightened immediately.

“Glad that you agree it’s… wordth a try!”

---

Janus was drawn away from the amusing argument going on between his fellow captives (the topic being how old one had to be to be an actual ‘for-realsies’ adult, federal law be damned) by two of the aliens simultaneously making odd, dragged out noises almost like stuttering groans.

“They sound like fucking zombies,” Virgil muttered from where he’d appeared at Janus’s shoulder. He’d snapped back to watching the three with blatant paranoia the moment they were loud enough to catch his notice.

The kid wasn’t subtle at all, but it wasn’t like he was wrong to be on guard. They were still abducted, regardless of how fantastical or impossible their captors seemed. Seeing how significant the size difference was, they’d have to work on escaping through… more cunning means.

Janus carefully held his position as the three giants crowded around the enclosure again, ignoring the way Virgil reached out to grip the back of his hoodie, either for comfort or in preparation to pull Janus from danger. This time, the three chattered amongst themselves for a long moment before going quiet and turning to the multiple-armed one.

Automatically, the humans mirrored the gesture, and the recipient of their attention met their gazes carefully one by one before placing a rigid, vertical hand under their chin and holding it there.

“Patton,” the alien said, slow and clear. It looked at them expectantly, and then repeated the phrase. “Patton.”

It was definitely some kind of word, that was clear enough. When not caught up in the rapid-fire chittering nature of the alien language, it was much easier to decipher.

“Patton?” Virgil muttered, and then squeaked when the alien stared at him with sudden intensity, hands flicking up and down erratically. Except for, Janus noted, the one still under its chin.

“Patton,” it said again, and then lowered the hand. Next to it, the insect-like one put a much bonier hand under its own angular chin.

“Roman,” it said, with a few subtle clicks that probably couldn’t be replicated by human mouths. Janus nodded, the pieces clicking into place. “Roman.”

Sure enough, next to make the hand gesture was the last alien, who introduced itself with a note of rippling bass overlapping with something like Logan. It was probably a bit mangled as he echoed it back, but different vocal chords made things difficult.

“You communing with them, Dee?” Remus asked from where he was crowding over his other shoulder. “That’s no sign language I’ve ever used. You speak alien and you’re not even going to share with the class?”

Janus elbowed him off, and then stepped forwards, and placed his own hand under his chin vertically, studying the ripple of reaction that got from the aliens.

“Dee,” he said, choosing to use his nickname as he had with the other humans.

The aliens immediately dissolved into excited chattering, which Janus patiently waited out. His fellow earthlings were similarly surprised.

“Wait, they’re doing introductions right now?” Virgil’s head whipped back and forth rapidly. Remus was gleefully attempting to mimic the weird, echoey quality of the voice of ‘Logan’ and getting concerningly close.

The one with all the arms-- Patton, it was Patton, he needed to remember if he wanted to make any progress at all here-- let out a string of syllables, slowed down but still nonsensical to them, and reached out.

Virgil jumped back and Remus started forwards, but Janus cut off all movement with a quickly snapped “Stop!”

Including the alien’s motion. He resisted the urge to smile at the success, instead looking up at Patton and tilting his head slightly. “What is it?”

Patton didn’t understand his words, but the questioning tone seemed to carry over, and after a beat, they moved their hand forward again just slightly before pausing, as though asking permission.

Janus weighed his options for a moment, before stepping forward. Virgil, who was still latched onto the back of him, came along with only a single sound of half-panicked protest. Patton correctly assumed that this was Janus giving his assent, and moved their hand closer, much slower this time.

With delicate, careful motions, they pushed Janus’s left hand out from under his chin, and then carefully curled a finger around his right arm, tugging that one up instead. Janus realized his mistake after a moment, and placed the right hand under his chin instead. Patton withdrew with a bright hum.

“What is happening,” Virgil hissed, and Janus glanced over his shoulder at him. The color had drained from his face, and his hand was white-knuckled where it was holding onto Janus’s borrowed outfit.

“I was mirroring their… introductory gesture, I suppose, and it seems that the meaning changes if I don’t use the correct hand. In this case, my right one,” he explained. “They’re going to want to know your name. Do you want me to assist?”    

Before he could answer, Remus was bouncing forwards, placing a hand under his own chin to gain the aliens’ attention.

“Call me I-Am-A-Buttface,” he half-shouted, grinning wildly.

---

“Did… did anyone else catch that one’s name?”

Roman watched as ‘D’ reached over and tugged the other tiny alien back by the collar roughly before they could speak again, astonished by how the other only let out what might be a cackle at the rough handling.

Not more astonished than he’d been by the alien catching on so quickly, though. Logan had been rendered completely speechless for a record amount of time, and Patton was still happily waving his hands back and forth at the success.

D visibly let out a long breath, and turned back to them, placing the correct hand under their chin this time. “D,” they repeated, and then switched things up.

They pulled the rambunctious one closer and placed their hand under that one’s chin, too. “Remus.”

“Are they-- introducing the other one as well?” Roman asked, and none of them could answer. ‘Remus’ didn’t seem to object, though they continued to speak in that rounded language. “That’s certainly a bit... unorthodox.”

D looked over at the only unnamed alien, the angry one that was standing at D’s shoulder, and after a moment, they jerked their head strangely. D seemed to understand, and held a hand palm-up in that one’s direction.

The unnamed alien put their hand in the proper introductory position, and had a few false starts before finally getting their name out. “Virgil.”

“Virgil,” Patton echoed excitedly. “That’s Virgil! Virgil, D, and Remus!”  

“Stars above,” Logan said faintly, “they really are just people but smaller.”

Roman couldn’t help but agree with the astounded sentiment. It hadn’t really sunk in before, but knowing the personal names of individual members of the unfamiliar species… “This could have been a disaster. Why were they labeled as primitive? Did the recorders even actually observe the planet they’re from? This seems a little hard to miss!”

“Easy, Roman,” Patton reached over to run a couple of gentle hands over his agitated wings. “You’re scaring the little guys.”

Sure enough, when he looked over, he could see all three of the tiny aliens were staring at him. He clicked an apology, and then echoed it in Common. “My apologies, small friends.”

“I agree with you, though… We can’t treat them as anything less, not like the tests would have us do. I’m not sure what our next step should be,” Patton admitted, and they turned as one to look at Logan. The Glanrim had a recognizably enthusiastic glint to his eyes.

“We’ll have to present our case to the Council. If we want them to believe us, we’ll need sufficient evidence that our specimens are sentient, sapient, and deserving of the standard rights,” he told them, tail swishing. “Our next step is to obtain that proof, through whatever means we can.”

Roman and Patton shared a glance before nodding in agreement. They turned towards the aliens with determination, and then stopped completely short.

“We’re… going to have to find some method of communicating our intentions,” Logan said, tapping his fingers on his shoulder in thought. “I believe the lack of such communication is what caused Virgil to behave so timidly in the first place.”

“Yeah, just reaching in and grabbing them probably isn’t a good idea,” Roman admitted. “What’s the plan, then?”

“Well, this can be a test in itself. Assuming that they can discuss amongst themselves what tests each of us did on the first run-through…”

---

Janus stared blankly at the three hands that had been set down along the floor of their enclosure, palms-up, each corresponding to one of the aliens. He turned to look at Virgil and Remus, just to ascertain that he was seeing the same thing they were.

Remus tilted his head to a painful-looking angle, and then nodded to himself. “It’s just like those choose-your-own-adventure books, except with huge aliens that we don’t know the intentions of! Fun!”  

“Oh, so they’re insane? They’re out of their skulls?” Virgil asked, his voice upping an octave in disbelief. “They really think we’re going to just literally put our lives in their hands, after they abducted and tormented us?”

“That’s exactly what we’re going to have to do,” Janus muttered, and held his hands up when Virgil turned to him with a glare. “Just listen for a moment. What are they doing right now?”

“Trying to trick us,” Virgil shot back immediately.

“Getting handsy!” Remus offered.

Janus pinched the bridge of his nose. “No and definitely no. They’re offering us a choice,” he clarified, “because we’ve done something to shift their opinions of us.”

“Some choice,” Virgil muttered. Janus pointed at him, making him jerk back slightly.

“Exactly. What do you think they’re going to do if we refuse to engage with them at all?”

“... Grab us anyways?”

Janus nodded, casting another look over at the waiting aliens. “If that happens, we’ve relinquished any and all control over the situation, no matter how small. Instead, we need to take advantage of this while we can. We’ll be putting our lives in their hands regardless, so it’s best to act strategically here.”

“Well, I know what I want.” Remus sidled a step away from them and towards the aliens. “Dibs on the hot one.”

“The what one?” Virgil gaped, and Remus ignored him in favor of getting a running start and then throwing himself directly onto Logan’s hand. Unsurprisingly, Logan seemed unsure how to react to a human sprawling over him like Rose from Titanic. Janus was too professional to slap a hand onto his forehead, but the urge was there. He grabbed Virgil’s shoulder when the kid started towards them.

“Forget it. He’s made his choice, and he doesn’t seem like the type to be swayed by common sense,” Janus said, rolling eyes and choosing very emphatically to not question his fellow human’s apparent qualifiers for someone being considered ‘hot’. “You need to make a decision of your own.”

Virgil shook him off, running his hands through his hair in frustration. “This is crazy. All of it. Forever. You know that, right?”

“I’m aware,” Janus replied, voice dry. Virgil shot him another look, and then seemed to actually consider the options, though grumpily. With his shoulders still up around his ears, he looked vaguely like a very angry turtle. Janus kept this observation to himself.

“Remus called the one with all the arms-- uh, Patton? He called them boring and said all they did was talk at him,” he finally offered, glancing over at the alien.

Janus nodded, keeping his own feelings on the matter off his face. “You want that one, then?”

“What?” Virgil looked at him, confused. “No, I mean you should go with them. You’ll probably have an easier time figuring out what they want from Patton.”

Janus paused, thrown off. “Hold on, that-- that leaves you with Roman. I… don’t think you’ll have the best time, considering.”

“And you will?” Virgil took Janus’s silence as the admittance it was, and nodded to himself. “I can do it. I’m tougher than you think. And anyways, if I let you go with him, he’d probably try to swipe my hoodie. Not happening.”

Janus huffed with exasperation, and Virgil gave him the closest expression he’d gotten to a smile yet before shoving his shoulder slightly and stomping up to Roman’s hand. The alien looked just as unhappy as Virgil about the decision.

---

“Well, that was an… interesting selection process,” Logan said, lifting up his hand slightly and finding that Remus seemed content to be toted around.

It was more than he could say about his own matchup. “Yeah, that’s one way of putting it,” he grumbled as ‘Virgil’ continued to stand there, tiny arms bundled around themself, tiny eyes staring up at Roman aggressively.

The little creature didn’t seem intent on even touching Roman, let alone actually being picked up and taken anywhere. Roman looked over to where D was seating themself on the edge of Patton’s hand like a king upon their throne, and then back to Virgil, who didn’t move.

Maybe they expected Roman to do all the heavy lifting? He carefully lifted his hand, curling it around Virgil’s tiny frame, and received a vicious hiss for his efforts. He recoiled, antennae flattening. He hadn’t even known these creatures could hiss!

“You alright, kiddo?” Patton appeared next to him, one hand hovering as a safety net for D. Roman pasted on a smile immediately.

“Of course! Just working out methods of transport with… Virgil. They seem a bit less charismatic than D when it comes to conveying intent, unfortunately.” The tiny creature continued to stare at him, gaze only dipping away to meet D’s briefly.

Patton studied Virgil for a moment, gaze moving between their hunched form and Roman’s fidgeting hands. “They might be a little touch shy. The transport containers are still usable, if you need them!”

“Ah, that’s right! Patton, you’re a genius.” Roman exchanged good luck hums with the Nihl and waited until he departed to grab the transport container and present it to Virgil. “Is this what you want to use, you picky creature?”  

As though to spite him, Virgil’s skin shifted to a paler shade, and they went so far as to step back slightly. Roman allowed himself a few frustrated clickswears, and then stopped as he noticed the creature stumble slightly.

“Virgil…?” he attempted the alien’s name, but there was no response beyond their rapid air intake increasing. They didn’t look so good.

Feeling oddly off-balance, he quickly stowed the transport container away, and kept his hands out of sight to give the poor guy some more space. “Easy, easy. Please for the love of all that is good, don’t die of shock on me.”

Virgil didn’t seem to improve at first, but after a moment, they started muttering to themself, and slowly but surely, began to return to baseline. Roman felt as though years had been taken off his lifespan.

“Alright, if you feel so strongly about it, there’s no reason I can’t improvise and simply work from here,” he rambled, moving a seat and a tray of tools to the side of the wide-low enclosure. “Logan wasn’t kidding when he called you easily startled, was he?”

Virgil eyed the tray with wide eyes, and when Roman picked up the thermometer, they skittered back out of easy reach, arms lifted in what must have been a defensive gesture. Like a frightened Arkbit, but less fluffy, and Roman had to actually try to coax them over rather than just holding them still for the process.

“It’s just a thermometer! It won’t prick you or anything, on my honor,” Roman swore, and when that didn’t do the trick, he used the device on himself instead. “See, I just place it against my skin for a few moments, and… there! A perfectly healthy me!”

He extended the sensor end of the thermometer in Virgil’s direction, but didn’t advance. “C’mon, just give it a shot. We’re going to need your baseline in case you get sick, and it’ll make it easier to get the others’ temps if you can tell them I’m not going to electrocute them or anything.”

Virgil dithered for a long moment, but Roman’s patience was rewarded when the alien finally stalked closer and smacked his hand against the sensor like a challenge. Luckily, it was precise enough to work accurately even with such a small specimen, and soon enough Roman has a temperature.

“Huh… you’re warmer than me and Patton, that’s for sure,” Roman mumbled. “Logan probably already has all sorts of classification theories about you guys, but I think it’s at least safe to say you’re mammalian.”

Virgil tilted their head slightly at him, and Roman shook his head. “We’ll have more to talk about once we actually manage to make a breakthrough on language. For now,” he held up a small scale, normally used for weighing precise chemical measurements, “back to the boring stuff!”

The tiny alien made a strange drawn out noise, and placed their hands over their face, but they didn’t get all tense and breathy again, and that was progress in Roman’s book.

So long as they kept making progress, things would probably turn out okay.

[sweetestlamb]

Save Me From The Dark

Summary: If I don’t lie to my heart, who will? 

Author's Note: The feedback to this story has been overwhelming and beautiful honestly, I've never done anything like this for a non canonical couple but so many of you have told me that this pairing makes sense to you too. They are just two lost souls to me and bringing them together is simply destiny. I saw on the timeline that TB was hard to watch tonight for my Seojun lovers,  I thought this might cheer some people up. Sorry for the brevity I’m writing between lesson planning, I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

Special huge shout out to @ewolfwitchwisegirl​ who made a header for me, it's so gorgeous and better than anything I could have ever done. This chapter is dedicated to you for inspiring me with this masterpiece!! Everyone who makes a gif set, header or anything because of my story you are loved, thank you. I am honored.

p.s. the burn will still be slow but it’s slowly starting tehe. 

"What? Where is she now?" Su-ah's face scrunches up in disdain as Ju-Kyung explains what she missed while in the nurse's office, the shorter girl looks more enraged than she's ever seen besides when that video of her being bullied was posted. Su-ah and Su-jin came over everyday until she finally caved in and let them in, taking turns crying in their laps. She’d been so ashamed to face them only to end the night teary-eyed with snot dripping from her nose, as they took turns wiping her runny nose. It was disgusting, but in that moment she knew that all her fears had been for naught, they were her friends regardless of what she looked like beneath her foundation. They'd been her saving grace and two huge reasons she could walk back through those doors with her head held high. Suho’s constant love and support only helping to make her feel even more invincible.  She can feel that same protectiveness wafting off the her friend now, Su-ah is fierce when it comes to the people she cares about. She's just honored to be among that short list.

"She's okay. I covered her and brought her to the roof."

"And then you left her? All by herself?! Come on we have to go back she needs us." She staggers as Su-ah grabs her hand forcefully, spinning her in a circle but she digs her heels into the ground interrupting the motion.

Su-ah looks at her baffled, tugging harder. Her eyes squinted into two thin lines. Immediately she puts up her hands, calming the agitated girl.

"She's not alone."

Su-ah tilts her head cutely in confusion, seeming to consider who exactly could be with their friend and conjuring nothing after a short pause complete with a finger on her bottom lip. She puts the girl out of her misery and gives her the answer, "Han Seojun. He's with her."

She'd been just as bewildered when she saw the name flashing on her phone.

Han Seojun.

Sure they were friends, he was also Suho's best friend so they all hung out a few times but he'd never called her prior and she'd almost forgotten they even possessed the other's number. Making her believe that his reason for calling had to be important, since he’d never done it before so she answered without hesitation.

Before she could utter hello, he was barking at her "Where are you? Is Su-jin with you?" She looked over at the other girl, wind whipping her long raven locks wildly around her beautiful face. The frantic raise and fall of her chest was the only thing marring the picturesque sight. Breaking her from her admiration Seojun repeated his inquiry but there was an unusual quality to his voice the second time, he sounded as if he was pleading. She didn't know what was happening but he sounded as if every second not with Sujin was torture. Before he could repeat it thrice, she answered him.

"We're on the rooftop."

His speed reaching them was impressive, before Su-jin could fully interrogate her about who exactly was coming to the rooftop, he was already bursting through the doors and unafraid despite the wrath on Su-jin’s face, she stared in surprise as he called her princess of all things snarkily, she watched them appraisingly waiting for Sujin to sneer at the cutesy moniker but that reprimand never arrived. Seojun seemed comfortable, too comfortable easily pressing into Sujin's space as if he belonged there, as if he wanted to belong there. She felt like she was intruding watching them prod and snap at each other, so she slipped away no longer worried about her friends safety. She seemed to be in good hands.

She snaps back to reality realizing that Su-ah has been bombarding her with questions, "Han Seojun? Why is he with her? Was he the one bullying her, I'll get Tae-Hoon to kick his ass!" She looks at her friend considering her boyfriend, and then Han Seojun, almost in sync they both shake their head.

"No, forget that. He can't fight someone like Han Seojun, can you tell Suho to beat him up? Do you think he'll do it?"

She chuckles while capturing the other girl's hands, "We don't need anyone to beat him up. He didn't do anything, he helped us actually. He got everyone to go back to class and stop looking."

Now Su-ah looks positively beaming, smiling that bright wide smile that is definitely the reason that Tae-Hoon can't stay away from her.

"Why? Why did he do that? Are they close?" The girl ask coyly, always ready to matchmake. 

It's not her place to say, she's just a bystander and honestly she doesn't quite understand what's happening, Seojun is always full of surprises. So she tugs Su-ah away, knowing that if pressed Sujin will retract and push Seojun away on principle, she doesn't know what's happening to the other girl but when it all comes tumbling down it's clear that Seojun won't be far behind.

"I think they're becoming friends. Sujin could use some more friends, don't you think?"

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

He doesn't know what he was expecting, it was a crazy idea. Absolutely insane. But regardless of the insanity of his words, he meant each and every one of them. Standing this close to the crying girl he could see the swell of her right cheek, the same cheek that had been bleeding the night they met. Ran into each other, might be more accurate.

It wasn't a fever dream or a hallucination. It was all painfully real, she was being hurt and nobody else seemed to know. She hid it well, even he could admit that her ice princess façade never cracking at school. She'd always looked like a perfect little doll in her designer clothes, he had imagined that she had a loving perfect family. He of all people knew that you shouldn't judge a book by its cover, yet he took one look at her expensive appearance and thought he had her all figured out.

He wouldn't make that mistake again.

So he knows that his suggestion is crazy but that doesn't ease the anger when she pulls away, turning her back to him before answering.

"No."

His fists tighten in the balls he has by his side but each quiet exhale that causes her small shoulders to lift up and down, unknowingly calms his rage and he finds himself smothering his own fury to offer another suggestion.

With a deep breath he says, "Ask Ju-Kyung if you can sleep over then. You shouldn't be alone."

She also shouldn't go home. Her words echo hauntingly in his ears, he used a belt. Bile coils tight in his throat, it was her father then he was the one hitting her, destroying his own daughter until she couldn't stand to be touched by others. The urge to fight has never been this visceral.

She sighs as if he's bothering her, he already knows what she's going to say before she says it, so he intercepts her stepping around her so they're face to face.

"I dare you to tell me to mind my business." He growls at her, giving her enough space so he's not looming over her much smaller figure but staring hard enough that she knows that he's serious, he's decided to make this his business she better deal with it.

She stares at him, mouth lax after his deep challenge glaring right back after she regains her composure but her eyes shift away, unable to meet his own now and without a word she huffs before stomping away. He watches her leave, knowing that he's reached the point of no return. He's going to follow this through to the very end.

If she tries to run, well he has long legs.

And a motorcycle.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The pain of her raw water soaked skin grounds her, but the swooshing of the faucet does nothing to drown out her thoughts as she rubs vigorously at her palms, scratching at imaginary dirt that will never be lifted from her hands. Making the water piping hot she hisses at the sting of the water on her bruised hand, she has to punish herself. She almost did something infinitely moronic.

"You almost said yes." She whispers to herself in the grimy school mirror, looking back at her own face in disgust. Feeling the flame of hope desperately grasping for air, yearning to awaken under the boys insistence.

She can't explain her reaction to him, they are nothing; less than nothing she wouldn't even consider him a friend.

Yet, he knows more about her than her best friends. Knows her deepest darkest secret and instead of gossiping or avoiding her, he's chasing her down and demanding to help her.

"He's insane. There's nothing to understand, there's no logic to insanity." She reasons with herself in the mirror, choosing not to focus on the fact that she's having a conversation with herself. His crazy is rubbing off on her, when she put her head on his chest it must have leaked on her.

She can remember the heat that always seemed to radiate from him, maybe that was a result of being loved. He was warm. She wanted to reach out and grab....

What? Grab what? She immediately reels her wayward thoughts back in. 

What am I thinking? 

She needed to stop her train of thought now. That had been a mistake, a lapse in judgement. It wouldn't be happening again. If he was hellbent on following her she couldn't stop him but she knew it wouldn't last, no one was that selfless eventually her pity story wouldn't be enough and he'd realize she wasn't worth the effort.

She tries to convince herself that this is what she wants. Lying to herself has become as natural as lying to others, it’s a means of survival. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Upon entry to the cafeteria every eye shifts to her or so it seems, time too stops as they all cease their conversations to watch her like she's an animal on display. Her skin prickles from the overwhelming attention before the silence bursts like a bubble and the noise washes over her, people begin to point in her direction whispering not so subtlety to the person next to them.

She almost bolts before she feels a hand on her elbow, her instincts almost make her snatch her arm away but the familiarity of the perfume halts her movement.

"Come on. We've been waiting for you."

Su-ah doesn't give her a chance to decline dragging her over to their table, Ju-Kyung's smiling face greeting them. She's shoved down onto the bench, in between the two like they're trying to shield her. The idea makes her feel warm and uncomfortable so she pushes it to the back of her mind.

She silently eats her food, staring intently at her tray before she finally relaxes as she realizes that no one is talking to her, they aren't demanding to know what happened. She's not ready to talk about it, not yet and they are showing her that that's okay. They will be here for her regardless of not knowing the full story. Under the table she discreetly grabs both of their hands, squeezing them hard. Squeaking in embarrassment when both girls twist and smother her in tight hugs, she pretends to loathe it pushing them both away but they cling to her until she gives in. She's so weak today.

"Oh. Seojun-ah over here!" Ju-Kyung blares in her precious ears, waving rapidly over her shoulder and she feels her stomach dip. Not him again he never ate lunch here and when he did it was with his gang, why was Ju-Kyung calling him here?

Pinching at her vulnerable thigh under the table, she hisses at the other girl "Hey! What are you doing? Don't call him over."

Unfortunately it's too late, she can already feel his aura behind them getting closer. There's barely room on the other side of the bench, then Hyun-Kyu yelps before looking up in their direction, then he swallows and nods as if receiving an order, he presses his glass further up his nose before collecting his lunch and leaving. She watches the interaction confused before turning to look at Ju-Kyung who has an exaggerated look of innocence on her face.

"I guess he was finished eating. It works out though, now Seojun can sit there."

He's slipping into the evacuated space before she can yell at Ju-Kyung for meddling. Huffing she burrows into her food refusing to look up. She’s only been ignoring him for a few seconds before he seems to reach his limit. 

"Give me some."

She watches in shock as familiar hands invade her space and grab her tray, pulling it across the table before lifting one of her sausages to his mouth with his fingers, the uncivilized swine. She's reaching out before she can reconsider or think about how they will appear to others she doesn’t share her food damn it, she reaches to cover his hand stopping him from biting and stealing her last sausage.

"What the hell are you doing? Don't touch my food." She scowls at him, grabbing at her food and humming victoriously when she gets it back. Only to stare wide eyed and flabbergasted as he shrugs before devouring the juicy morsel, directly from her fingers, a brief brush of warm wetness on her finger tips. They both freeze, staring at each other. The air between them charged, almost crackling from their locked eyes.

"Seojun! You're the man! You're a natural flirt, eating from her hands!" Appearing from thin air Seojun's gang boisterously chants his name, clapping him on the shoulder and she physically cannot be in this room any longer. She shoves her tray at him, grabbing her backpack before hopping over the bench.

"I'll see you both later." With a tight smile at her friends, she races from the cafeteria unaware of the eyes tracing her every step.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The rest of the day drags by, she spends it lost in a daydream making sure not to look at the boy behind her. She just wants to get home and lock herself away, this time nothing will get her to open the door. With a sigh of relief, she stands as the teacher dismisses them for the day. Packing up slowly to miss the surplus of students at the door, they are all still looking at her warily spreading rumors about her rudeness and supposed narcissism. Creating explanations for her scene in the bathroom, the majority of them painting her as stuck-up. She doesn't mind it's better than them knowing the truth. Let her be a rich spoiled bitch in their minds better that than a victim.

Like clockwork, Su-ah and Ju-Kyung latch onto her from the left and the right. She lets them pull her out the door and towards the entrance, absently listening to their heated debate of where they should eat today. She sighs out loud, amused but hiding it behind a passive face.

"Why are you even arguing? You know we’re such going to get spicy tteokbokki anyway."

They always do, it's like arguing is their warm up before the noodles because no matter how passionate they both get about the different possibilities they've never eaten anything else together.

Walking out the school gate, they all jump back as a motorcycle suddenly skids into their way blocking them completely. Instantly she's annoyed, breaking their linked arms she storms over to the idiot, shoving at his chest before shouting at him.

"Hey! Are you crazy? Were you trying to kill us?" She slaps at his helmet when he tilts his head at her, the loud knock satisfying as she glares at him. 

Then he reaches up like he's staring in a shampoo commercial and tugs the helmet off his head, hair stylishly falling onto his neck. Instead of looking upset at her rough treatment he smirks, leaning over the handle bar right into her face.

"Since when are you scared of my bike? Don't act so fragile princess." She gapes at him affronted by his unapologetic attitude, then further bothered by his second use of that infuriating nickname. She's nobody's fucking princess. As she opens her mouth to tell him this, he turns away from her before talking to Ju-Kyung.

"Take her to your house tonight. Have a sleepover or whatever you all call it. She told me she really wanted to ask you but she was too embarrassed." He points over at her, lying easily through his too white teeth. She wants to punch that smile off his face.

"Hey when did I say anything like that to yo--!!"

But he's on a roll, bulldozing through her interjections with the same ease he used that night on the highway. Pulling something from his pocket and thrusting it at her.

"Give me your number."

What.

"What?"

He looks at her like she's wasting his time, rolling his eyes before repeating slower, the asshole.

"Give me your number."

She scoffs at the brazen order, sneering at him before grabbing her friends. "Let's go."

But never of them are budging, so she pulls harder but still they don't follow and she turns to them both annoyed. "Didn't you hear me let's go."

"Give me the phone."

Her jaw drops as Su-ah reaches out at Seojun, he looks as surprised as she does before he shakes himself from his confusion and hands the girl his phone. Su-ah happily taps away before handing the phone back over.

"There you go." Su-ah smiles easily before tugging them all away now, she wants to fight her hold and run back and take his phone, delete her number and tell him once and for all to leave her alone and stop playing whatever game he’s playing.

"I'm hungry from all that arguing, let's get tteokbokki." Ju-Kyung states happily, leading them towards the shop.

She just goes along quietly, feeling outnumbered and indignant. They were supposed to be her friend. She pouts the entire way. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Seojun watches the three girls walking away, eyes fixated on the figure in the middle until they turn a corner and disappear from his sight. She'd looked like she wanted to kill him, a woman had never looked at him with that particular expression before. She could be quite scary when she wanted to be.

Hooking his helmet onto the arm bar of his bike he finally looks down at his phone, thankfully still in one piece.

When he sees the number he smiles softly before his eyes shift down and laughter bursts out of his chest, he can't stop the bubbling bouts of joy that fall from his lips.

8298263098

Princess

With another chuckle, he pulls on his helmet before revving the bike to life and peeling out of the school feeling lighter than he has in a long time. He doesn’t question his gut, no he’s not someone who overthinks he jumps first and looks later. 

[carelessannie]

maybe it goes like this: steve builds his pack (part 3)

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

Read on A03

Read the Tony courts Peter wip

Stuckony (focus), Stony, Winteriron, Stucky

A finale to the sweet, slightly angsty backstory in three parts (ending in Stuckony).

Major warnings: D/S Au, A/B/O Au, Dirty dancing, Steve’s got a grip on Tony’s balls

Maybe it goes like this:

Tony doesn’t miss having a pack.

This is the lie he tells himself as he sees a sweet, intimate pack sharing a day out in the city, and later, a young, familial pack with a few pups eating ice cream in the park.

He can vaguely remember his parents buying him ice cream— or maybe he had snuck ice cream out of the kitchen— and eating that alone once. He doesn’t let himself dwell on that for too long.

And being a part of a familial pack by association hasn’t been the worst. He knows worse.

It wasn’t even that his pack growing up had been that bad. Maybe a little emotionally detached, sure, but he’s old enough now to recognize it wasn’t his pack that made the mistake— it was him.

He’s the one who decided to leave after graduating college, convinced that at the mature age of eighteen that he could conquer the world by himself.

Good job, Tony. Where has that left you?

Tony smiles, remembering his dad’s words: Your mistakes are outweighed by your effort to correct them; the damage done is outweighed by your success.

From that day until his dad’s death two years later, his dad was one of his best friends.

Wow, that’s sad.

He’s thankful that his dad followed his own mantra, making up for decades of indifference with calculated companionship and counsel in the last years he had with his family.

Tony guesses that if he had cancer, he would do something similar.

Tony guesses that if he had cancer, he would do something similar.

Tony guesses that if he had cancer, he would do something similar.

Tony used to tell his dad everything: all of his ideas, dreams and hopes for the company. Everything, that is, except his desire for a pack. And his dad, in turn, made sure he was prepared to take over Stark Industries, and had transferred his personal assistant, Pepper Potts, to Tony once he could no longer work in the office.

After his dad’s death, things took a while to get better. He eventually reconnected with Rhodey, his college roommate from MIT. The Air Force Colonel hadn’t been in his Ado-pack out of college, thank merciful god, but they were roommates for a few years and Rhodey had always treated him like a younger brother.

He understands now why his friend was out of touch for so long— his military career took precedence until he accepted a position in New York, working in intelligence. He’s proud of Rhodey, honestly, but had always felt abandoned by his friend. And Tony was also a little bit disappointed when the older man refused to form a pack with him.

“Tony, be realistic,” Rhodey had planted his hands on his hips, giving a twenty-three year old Tony his best disappointed Colonel look, “we aren’t compatible. It would never work.”

It was a repeat argument between them, and had only escalated since Rhodey started dating Pepper a few months earlier.

It wasn’t a secret that Tony was jealous.

“I am being realistic! We’re together all the time, and it would be so easy for you guys to move into my place,” he was desperate, hoping for something he could never have.

Rhodey had sighed, “Dammit Tones. You know I don’t think this is a good idea…” but Tony had jumped on his friend’s hesitation, and eventually convinced the young mates to move in with him.

Two years later, they’re still living with him in his penthouse.

Tony feels alone, sure, but living platonically with a young familial pack is better than living by himself. Or, god forbid it, with a toxic intimate pack.

He shudders as he tightens his tie, taking a long look in the mirror, shaking off the last of his thoughts. Tonight’s a good night.

His suit is tailored perfectly— accentuating his waist and shoulders, lengthening his legs in expensive slacks, and completed with his favorite burgundy tie and gold cufflinks. Damn he looks good. With a wink he’s through the door, heading to the garage and grabbing his wallet off the counter.

He takes the Lambo, because why not and shows up only fifteen minutes late, tossing his keys to the valet and skipping up the stairs to the Met.

A few people try to talk to him on the way in, and he gives away a couple smiles, weaving through the crowd to find his friends and making his way up to the Great Hall and Balcony.

“Tony!” a familiar voice calls across the Hall, and Tony spins to find the happy couple heading his way.

“Rhodey! Pep! What a crazy party, congratulations,” he pulls both of them into a hug, giving Pepper a brief kiss on the cheek, and then, at Rhodey’s pouty-face, swooping in and giving him one too.

Pepper giggles, squeezing her fiancée’s cheek when he recoils in disgust, “Thank you, Tony. And thank you, again, for pulling the strings necessary to get this place— it’s absolutely breathtaking.”

“Hey, it was no problem,” Tony deflects, forcing his smile a little wider, “they set up the sculpture court, right? Pep, I know you’re gonna love that—”

Rhodey’s smile is back, and he laughs, clapping Tony on the shoulder, “Yeah, Tones, they gave us the tour when we got here, it’s great.”

“Good, good, that’s… good.” Tony awkwardly pauses, and his friends exchange a look, Pepper winking — which is terrifying— before smiling secretly.

Both of them turn, and Rhodey motions behind him, “Hey, I’ve gotta find someone. You’ll stay put?” he gives a pointed look to Tony, disappearing before he can respond.

Pepper shakes her head affectionately, grabbing Tony’s hand as he tries to escape. He whines a bit, turning his best innocent eyes on her, “But Pep, I haven’t even had a drink yet. And he wants me to meet people.”

“Hush. You trust us, right?”

Unfortunately, yes.

“Ah, great,” Rhodey comes up to them, towing someone else. Okay, understatement. Towing a large, hunk of a man behind him, filling out his Army blues like they were designed with his body in mind. He’s young— baby faced and adorable— completely out of his depth, probably. His smile actually looks genuine, because Tony can easily see the confusion breaking through his perfectly clear complexion.

Damn, Tony wants a bite.

“Tony, I’d like you to meet my friend, Captain Steve Rogers,” Steve puts forward his hand, and Tony grasps it as Rhodey continues, “... and Steve, this is Tony Stark, my best man.”

Steve looks appropriately stunned. He places his left hand right over top of where they are still joined, and meets Tony’s gaze with a small nod, “Mr. Stark, it’s a pleasure.”

If Tony wasn’t so sure this man was the most dominant piece of military Alpha in the room, he’d ask the good Captain to get on his knees. And beg. Fuck. As it stands, he’s never felt this enamored and respected in an initial meeting— damn, this man knows how to make a first impression.

“Tony, please,” he corrects, smirking into Steve’s beautiful face, “and the pleasure’s all mine, Captain.”

He waits for Steve to release their hands, but all he gets is a similar smirk in return. The larger man squeezes where their hands are joined, brushing his thumb over Tony’s knuckles, and leans in to murmur, “You can call me Captain all night long.”

He releases Tony from the magnetic hold on his hand, and Tony is slightly embarrassed to feel his face heat up, and clears his throat. It’s been years since someone could fluster him like this, and this man has been able to do it in seconds. Before Tony can respond, Steve adds, a little louder for the public ear, “—but just stick with Steve for now.”

“Alright, Steve— how do you know…” and as Tony goes to bring Rhodey and Pepper back into the conversation, he realizes that the couple has left without a word. Tricky bastards.

Steve doesn’t seem phased, though, and answers the question as if Tony had even bothered to finish it,

“I met Jim a year ago during my summer post in Taiwan— both of us were stationed there, doing a few months of consulting for specialized ops, and were fast friends. I swear, Jim was my only buddy over there, and he’s one of the most honorable men I’ve ever met,” the smile that follows his words is soft and remembering, “how about you, Tony?”

“Rhodey and I were roommates at MIT— he’s always been my big brother, and both him and Pep live with me now—”

“Oh,” Steve interrupts, “I didn’t realize you were pack, I just assumed—”

“No, definitely not,” Tony stops him, laughing to help lighten the sensitive subject, “I don’t have a pack. But if we were compatible, I think the two of them would be it for me. It just… it doesn’t work for us,”

Steve shakes his head, a serious expression falling over his features, “No, I get it, that’s personal— I shouldn’t have brought it up. Please, can I— can I grab you a drink?”

Tony resists the urge to reach out and grab his arm, to reassure Steve that there’s no harm done, but instead agrees, “Sure, yes— uh… why don’t you surprise me?”

The flirty, light smile is back, and Steve easily agrees, leaving Tony to find the open bar. He’s thankful for the time to process, easily dismissing a few guests who try to start a conversation with him.

How could Rhodey have kept this guy hidden for so long? Tony barely got a whiff of him, almost getting enough scent to determine compatibility, but not quite. How old is this guy, anyway? And Army? What is Rhodey thinking?

“Here ya go,” Steve’s voice breaks through his thoughts, and he jumps a bit, turning to see the Captain holding two glasses and wearing an unsure smile,

“Damn, Steve— warn a guy?” and he grins playfully, thankful to see Steve laugh along. Tony makes a grab for the glasses, and Steve pulls them out of his reach, laughing even harder, before handing Tony the low tumbler with dark amber liquid and a single orange peel garnishing the top.

Tony peers back up at Steve, “Old Fashioned? With—” he takes a sip.

“Bourbon,” Steve answers before Tony can, and sweet lord, this man has good taste.

Swirling the drink gently, Tony hums and closes his eyes at the taste. Just like his dad used to make.

“I’m glad you like it,” the low voice adds to the moment, and for just one second, Tony allows himself to get lost in the fantasy of drinking sweet Bourbon in his den, with a strong, blonde man by his side.

He opens his eyes to reality, “It’s perfect, Steve,” earning him a satisfied hum in return, “now tell me, what are you drinking this evening?”

“Oh, well—” Steve looks a little hesitant, holding up his larger glass for inspection, “it’s called a Tom Collins.”

“A craving for something sour, Captain?” Tony takes a step closer, sipping his drink slowly.

Steve licks his lips, “I like a good balance,” he takes a long drink of his gin, “and the orange is my favorite part.”

Tony watches his mouth move, admiring his full bottom lip as it’s tugged back by his teeth, breathing in the faint scent of Coffee and Thunderstorms, “You know what,” Tony dips his head forward, peering up at Steve through his lashes, “the orange is my favorite part as well.”

There’s a sharp clink clink clink sound, and the moment is broken between them as attention is called back to the engagement. Tony realizes, regrettably, that he’s supposed to be up front, and gives Steve one last desperate look before leaving to address the crowd.

After the party, he searches for Steve. He asks Pepper, and then Rhodey— both of whom haven’t seen Steve since their introduction earlier.

“Sorry, Tones, but if you want to see him—”

“No, no,” Tony dismisses the suggestion, “it doesn’t— don’t worry about it, it’s— I’m okay, I’m fine, alright? All good.”

Rhodey tries to protest, but Tony just ignores him, kissing Pepper goodbye as he makes a hasty retreat out of the museum. If he can get home first, maybe they won’t ask him to talk about his feelings.

---

Tony doesn’t miss having a pack.

It’s been exactly a year since Pepper and Rhodey moved out, and Stark Industries has never been stronger.

Probably because every spare moment he has is poured right back into his company.

Every. Spare. Moment.

Which is probably why Tony’s late for his best friend’s wedding.

It had been a rough night— Rhodey had insisted on staying up late to bar hop, and their small bachelor party had torn up the most cutting edge and expensive bars all throughout New York City. The downside, unfortunately, is that coming back home at 4 AM— drunk and somehow already hungover— leads to the absolute worst morning a twenty-seven year old could ask for.

So honestly, it’s not Tony’s fault that he shows up a half hour late, barely dressed in his tux, and sunglasses practically taped to his face.

His saving grace ends up being Rhodey. Again.

An assistant meets him at the door, ushering him into the dressing rooms, and tugging off his tux as he moves. He’s handed a cup with a vague order to drink, and the sunglasses are unceremoniously tugged from his face. He struggles a bit under the attention, but after a few minutes of the world’s worst smoothie, blinding light, pressing, steaming, ironing, shaving, and makeup application that will not be mentioned again— Tony is shoved into a larger room with the rest of the bridal party.

Before he can even begin to apologize, Rhodey is stepping forward,

“Tony, this is the least I owe you, brother.”

The statement alone almost has Tony in tears, and he closes the distance to pull Rhodey into a tight hug, whispering, “My body will never forgive you, Rhodey-bear.”

And the wedding goes on without a hitch from there. Pepper, as it turns out, had told Tony to arrive an hour before he even needed to be there— fully expecting him to arrive late. Because of this, he’s sober and aware when his best friends walk down the aisle. It’s a moment to remember.

Pepper looks like a queen— the Beta wears a perfectly tailored trumpet gown, trimmed with delicate lace and a scalloped neckline. Her mate cries— hell, Tony cries.

And a few hours later, he’s sitting alone at the open bar, swishing his drink and thoughtfully picking at the orange slice at the bottom of the glass. He knows he’s one of the only people avoiding the dance floor, but can’t find it in himself to join the party. Instead, he nurses his glass and silently watches his friends dance and laugh together.

“Tom Collins?”

Tony turns to the voice coming from his left, and is greeted with ice-blue eyes, the sharpest jaw known to man, and a filthy pair of lips.

“Tony, but close.”

“Tony—” his name sounds like sin coming from this man’s mouth, “wanna dance, sugar?”

“I really shouldn’t—”

“— c’mon, sweetheart. You’ve spent enough time with this drink, don’tcha think?”

His glass is stolen by this tempting man, who sets it down with a sweet smile and stands to his feet. He extends a hand, and Tony hesitates. He really shouldn’t— it’s been a long day, and he’s not exactly sober. Plus, Pepper might kill him if he makes a scene.

He takes the man’s hand, “Just one song, got it?” and all he gets is a wicked grin in response before he’s pulled off towards the dance floor.

The song playing is low— thrumming and hot. Most of the younger packs have already checked in for the night, saving their pups from the close grind of desperate bodies, scents mingling in Desire and Arousal. It takes only one sweep of the crowd to notice Pepper and Rhodey in the center, leading their guests in a sinful dance— magnetic and dangerous.

The man from the bar stops at the outer rim of the circle, pausing for a moment to strip off his tie and suit jacket. His eyes sweep over Tony’s appearance, and he steps closer, breath tickling the nape of his neck as he asks, “May I?”

Speechless, Tony nods. He’s surrounded with sweet Oranges and creamy Milk Chocolate as the Omega gently loosens his tie, pulling it over his head and folding it onto the table before slipping his hands up Tony’s shoulders, pushing underneath his jacket, and tracing his arms until the jacket falls, forgotten.

Chest to chest, the Omega looks up through his eyelashes, “Dance with me, Beta.”

Pulled closer to the center of the crowd of moving bodies, Tony keeps the man pressed against his side, then shifts to face him. He’s only an inch taller than this Omega, but the similar height works to their advantage as Tony grabs his hips, starting a slow grind that has the man in front of him clutching at his neck, his hair, and breathing out a sigh.

“Like that, baby?” Tony growls, digging his fingers into the Omega’s hips as they move together, foreheads touching, enjoying the friction and small sounds coming from his partner.

“Don’t stop, please,” Oh, begging sounds divine coming from this younger man’s lips. Tony wants to do absolutely wicked things to this guy.

They move together, the Omega shifting to follow his rhythm and relaxing under Tony’s hold as he moves his right hand higher, scratching his nails along the gentle arch of the man's back, as his left hand moves lower to firmly grip his ass. He squeezes, and the sweet Omega moans Tony into his neck.

“I’ll give you what you need, baby.”

“B— bucky,”

“Bucky?”

He gets a smile in return, along with a particularly dirty move of his hips, “My name is—”

“Bucky?”

A third voice breaks the spell, and Bucky sighs, stopping their dance and putting a bit of space between their bodies— which does absolutely nothing to hide their shared arousal.

“Whaddaya want, Stevie?”

Tony looks over his shoulder to see a hulking, blonde and horrifyingly familiar Alpha standing behind them— arms crossed and a face that screams unamused.

“I wanna know why my mate is putting on a show with—” he finally looks at Tony, and his expression blooms with shock and recognition, “— Mr. Stark. Of fucking course.”

“Language.”

“— shut up Bucky, of course you’d happen to find him of all people…”

“Well,” Bucky starts to defend, “you wouldn’t make a move, so I thought I’d get things started.”

Now Tony’s confused, “Wait, hold up,” he looks between the two men as they glare at each other, “did you… are you trying to get with me?”

The couple turns and looks at Tony like he’s an idiot, Steve gesturing at where he’s still hard in his pants, “You didn’t get that from the reenactment of Dirty Dancing a few minutes ago?”

Bucky lets out a sharp laugh, cutting through the tension, and Steve’s face practically melts at the sight and scent of HappyAmusedOmega. Tony bets his face is doing something similar as he shakes his head in protest, “You guys are really serious? Can we— can we talk somewhere… more private?”

Definitely the wrong thing to say, because Bucky practically cackles in glee, “Darlin’ you can do anything to me in private,” and Steve reaches over to smack him on the shoulder,

“Slow, Bucky,” and he earns an eye roll from his mate, “Tony, let me see your phone.”

Right now, Tony feels like putty in his hands, which is probably why he gives over his unlocked phone without a word. Bucky slings his arm around Tony’s waist, and he notices that the crowd has thinned out, music slower and without the charge from before. Steve types a few things before handing the phone back,

“I put in our numbers— Tony, if you want to see us again, for dinner or even just coffee, please text us,” Steve squeezes his shoulder, and then moves his hand to cup Tony’s elbow, pulling him— and Bucky, by consequence— in closer,

“Tony, I need you to know: you are not obliged to see us again, even though we come on a little strong. You are— we are—”

“You’re all he could talk about tonight, Tony,” Bucky cuts in, turning Tony to look into his eyes, “and maybe you’ve never given him a second thought, but he met ya last year and has been dyin’ to see ya again—”

“— Bucky—” Steve warns,

“No, sorry Alpha, but it needs to be said. Tony, I have a feelin’ the three of us are damn compatible, and it would be a waste not to try. Give us a chance, yeah?” and the silence that follows is paired with twin expressions, eager and hopeful.

“Guys, I…” Tony is tired of being alone. He’s tired of denying what he really wants.

“... I’ll text you soon, okay?”

At the startled look from Steve and whispered oh, okay Tony from Bucky, he flees. He’s a perfect Cinderella alright— too afraid of honest confessions to stick around long.

But maybe he’ll keep his promise.

---

It takes a week for Tony to text them, and he does it as a group message. Both mates seem relieved to hear from him, and set up a date for that weekend, insisting that they pick him up and pay.

It takes two weeks after that, and three more dates, for Tony to realize that they want to formally court him.

A month after they start courting Tony, he asks about their intentions.

“I’ve gotta wonder, guys— are you really that serious about building a permanent pack? Or is this just a seasonal pack for you guys while you’re getting out of the Army?”

Bucky looks hurt by this, but it’s Steve who spells it out.

“I know we’re young, Tony. I mean— you’re not even thirty, Buck is twenty-one and I’m just twenty-two. Look, I know I’m really young to be a pack Alpha. Neither of us have experience leading a pack, but… it’s been something we’ve wanted for a while. It’s the reason Buck and I haven’t bonded yet, and it’s a dream of ours to have an intimate pack to start a family with.”

He’s stunned by Steve’s words. His pack growing up definitely wasn’t intimate, and after his horrible Ado-pack, he had completely dismissed the idea of ever having something like that again. But now.

“Tony, darlin’,” Bucky reaches forward to take Tony’s hands, “I think we have something really special, here. It could take years to build our pack, but Steve is pretty sure six is our magic number. Don’t ask me why. And also,” he hesitates, looking down at his hands, "I’ve gotta tell ya somethin’ important. Two things, actually.”

“What is it, sweetheart?” Tony asks, concerned, as Steve gives Bucky a nod of encouragement.

“Well, first of all,” Bucky looks back into Tony’s eyes as he continues, "Steve and I are compatible by memory. Like— when we first scented each other, a few years ago, we had a scent memory. We— we haven’t bonded because of the pack, but we will. And second,” he pauses a moment, “I’m not pack omega.”

“You’re… not?”

“No, I— I’m not a submissive, Tony. I’m Vers and swing submissive for Steve most days. But I can’t fully submit for a pack, and this means there will be a fully submissive Omega who mates with us. And gets— gets to—”

Steve cups his mate’s cheek, “Baby,”

“No, it’s. It’s fine, Stevie, I—” Bucky tries to pull out of Steve’s hold, but the tears are already falling as he rubs them away, “— I just can’t. I can’t give you pups.”

Oh. Oh. Tony did not know that.

Bucky is tucked under Steve’s arm as the Alpha continues to explain, “When we bond as a pack, if we decide to bond, it’s very likely that only the submissive pack Omega will pup for the pack Alpha. It was— hard, you know? Realizing that Buck and I can’t have a family—”

At this, Bucky buries his face in his hands and lets out a single sob,

“— but we’re willing to give that up if it means having the perfect pack, okay?”

Tony is shocked. He guesses it makes sense that the pack Alpha and Omega would be biologically directed to mate together. It seems unfair, though, that a scent compatible, soulmate pair wouldn’t be able to start a family. But—

“What about other bonded members?”

Both men look up at Tony in confusion, “What do you mean?” Steve asks.

“I mean, what if two other packmates decided to mate. Is there a chance they would pup?”

Bucky still looks confused, but Steve’s face lights up in understanding,

“You mean, what if we all bonded— would you and Bucky be able to get pregnant?”

“Wait, is it possible?” the hope in Bucky’s eyes is devastating as he looks between Alpha and Beta, gripping onto Steve’s arm with fresh tears shining on his cheeks, “could I still have pups?”

“It’s possible, Buck, but I have no idea.”

Bucky ignores Steve’s response and stands from his seat, moving quickly to Tony and straddling his lap, throwing his arms around the Beta’s neck. Tony steadies him with arms around his waist, and rocks them gently as Bucky starts to cry into his neck.

After a few minutes, Steve looking at them with overwhelming affection, Bucky’s tears run out and he sniffles into Tony’s neck, “Thank you, my Beta.”

“For what?”

The Omega pulls away, pushing Tony’s hair out of his face as his smile widens,

“Giving me hope.”

---

In May, Bucky finally graduates from West Point, and decides to work in engineering in the city. Steve has been working with Rhodey in “intelligence” for a year, and Tony finally feels happy.

They spend most of their time at Steve and Bucky’s apartment in Red Hook. Tony doesn’t mind the drive, and absolutely hates being alone in his penthouse— plus, he’s come to actually like Brooklyn. And if he spends his free time searching for the perfect spot to build a house, no one has to know.

And it works fine for now, because Steve still insists on taking it slow— although if Bucky and Tony had it their way, the three of them would already be mated. It sometimes feels like just the two of them are dating and Steve’s their chaperone, drawing boundary lines of, “Hey, clothes stay on, boys,” and, “Bucky, get off Tony’s lap, I swear to god.”

So Tony corners Steve.

Or more accurately, Steve is fixing them dinner and Tony pins him to the counter from behind, grinding up into his ass and growling.

He feels Steve stiffen beneath him, and Tony laces their fingers together where Steve’s are resting on the counter, nibbling on the back of his neck inches from his bonding spot.

“What’re you doin’ Tony.” it’s barely a question, and Tony just tightens his grip and bucks his hips forward, letting Steve feel his arousal.

Steve growls in response and turns in his arms, breaking Tony’s hold. He looks into the Alpha’s eyes, blazing red, and Steve slowly prowls forward, backing Tony into the fridge. His arms come up to frame Tony’s face as his back hits, forcing eye contact and baring his teeth in a predatory smile.

One of his hands reaches lower, gripping Tony and causing the Beta to groan at the friction, “Is there something you want, baby?” Tony shakes his head, losing the confidence from earlier, but Steve continues, “you need to use your words, Tony. I can’t help ya if you don’t tell me what you need.”

Ooo, Tony’s blood burns with the challenge, and he rocks forward into Steve’s grip, his own hands reaching forward to hold onto the Alpha’s shoulders. Steve presses in closer, and Tony licks a small stripe up his throat, stopping centimeters from his ear, “I need you, Alpha. Why can’t I have you?”

“Oh, Tony,” Steve chuckles, releasing his grip and sliding both hands around to cup Tony’s ass, pulling them closer until their fronts are pressed together, betraying Steve’s obvious interest, “you can have me all you want, baby. I just need something from you first.”

“Yes, Steve. Fucking anything.”

He’s pushed away, back hitting the fridge as Steve steps back, “Be ours. Promise it. Move in with us, and then we’ll mate.”

“Alpha,”

“Those are my terms, Beta,” Steve puts a hand on Tony’s shoulder, pushing him out of the kitchen and into the living room, “and until then, let me finish cooking and go keep Buck company, okay?”

He doesn’t wait for a response, and turns back to his meal while Tony stands frozen in the doorway. He can see Bucky lounging on the couch, wrapped in soft blankets and pretending he hadn’t just heard their whole conversation. He sees the way Steve moves around the kitchen, natural and dominant in his home— caring and providing for his pack.

For my pack, Tony thinks to himself.

“I’m yours.”

Both sets of eyes are on him, and Steve drops everything in his hands. He sees Bucky stand up from the couch.

Steve takes a step towards him, “W— what did you say?”

“I said— I’m yours. And you’re… you’re mine. My pack,” he looks into Steve’s eyes as the taller man steps into his space, “My Alpha.”

He hears a soft exhale, and feels Bucky grab his arm. Tony turns, “and My Omega.”

“My Beta,” Bucky breathes,

Steve kisses the Omega’s cheek, smiling wide, and pulls Tony into his arms,

“Ours.”

No, Tony doesn’t miss having a pack. But here— wrapped up in between his Alpha and Omega— he’s wanted, he’s safe, and he finally belongs.

[chaotic-tired-cat]

world walker to date is one of my most favorite fanfics ever. it's so well-written! not too op, with real difficulties and plot, but still light-hearted and funny! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 i hope life smoothens out for you so we can get an update of this awesome story! :D :D :D

Aaaa thanks Anon!! This ask made me super happy - I'm glad you like World Walker and that it hit the right balance between angst and comedic moments (tbh that's one of the things that's really hard to get right). Things are still hectic but as soon as they're not that chapter is getting finished!!!

Since it might be a while, have a post-World Walker scene from the pov of a couple civilians. It was written to try out Cryptid as Izuku's hero name (/^o^)/

(Note: this scene isn't canon to World Walker and was written before I knew how the story would end.)

“Why do you even think this is going to work?” Yua hovers around Mariko’s efforts in the Denny’s parking lot, careful to avoid stepping on the complicated design taking place under Mariko’s second piece of chalk. The first one was sacrificed to ward off a raccoon. They specifically chose to do this after midnight for the ambiance, but Yua is starting to have second thoughts.

It’s very dark, and they’re both fem-presenting teenagers with emitter quirks in a deserted part of town.

This is not a good place to be.

“I got the pattern off a hero,” Mariko assures her. “You know how I was in the gym when Uravity's fight hit school, right?”

Yes, and Yua is trying desperately to forget the worst day of her life, thank you.

“Uravity and Cryptid dug me out, but it was weird, because he drew this symbol on a piece of the roof and it just- stayed. In the air. Even when nothing was supporting it.” Mariko pauses, beaming at the magic circle that’s mostly made of lines and squiggles to complete the aesthetic. One of the symbols doesn't look right. It slides out of focus, and Yua carefully steps back, because hell no.

“How is that supposed to help us summon a ghost-”

“Finished! Start filming, hurry, hurry, hurry!” Mariko drops her piece of chalk as Yua scrambles to swipe open her camera. Before Yua can stop her, Mariko has drawn a pocket knife, cut the pad of her thumb, and is smearing blood on the unsanitary parking lot ground.

Delightful.

Her hand is going to get so infected.

That’s right about when the air above the circle tears itself apart.

Mariko shrieks. Yua almost runs, then remembers herself and makes sure her phone is pointed at the sliver of starlight shining out of thin air. She knows her horror film tropes. Whatever they released into the world is taking them first, but she can at least get a video account to warn people of what they did.

Eaten by a demon or some shit. That’s a bomb-ass obituary.

Pro Hero Cryptid crashes out of the portal, one hand protectively wrapped around a bowl half-full of salad. His Uravity sweatshirt mostly obscures Froppy sweatpants, but Yua is more alarmed by the fact that Cryptid looks surprisingly human. No needle-sharp teeth, no starlit eyes. Spinach flutters to the ground around the hero in a gentle shower of greenery that nestles in his curly hair as if adding to the foliage. He stares blankly at them, then at the scribbles under his feet, before pointing a truly pissed-off look at the sky.

“Are you serious?” Cryptid yells at the city skyline. A spinach leaf falls off his shoulder. “Right in front of my salad?”

“Holy shit,” Yua whispers, and discovers that she can, in fact, be more embarrassed than the time their teacher made the whole class sing ‘Happy Birthday’ while she stood in silent mortification on a chair. “We summoned him.”

Mariko claps both hands over her mouth to keep in her laughter, eyes wide. “We really did.”

This seems to draw the hero’s attention back to them.

“You two okay? Yes? Nobody’s hurt? Oh, thank goodness.” Cryptid stabs a fork into his vegetables, shoves it into his mouth, and makes grabby hands for the chalk. Mariko passes it over with a potent mix of awe and glee.

“I am so sorry,” Yua breathes.

Mariko sniffs. “I’m not.”

“And I’m glad to be summoned,” Cryptid finishes with a sunshine-smile. He’s very… human. The wrinkled eyebrows he directs at Mariko’s chalk art do not resemble the otherworldly creature that showed up during All Might’s last battle. “Better for me to be dropped here than for y’all to get… hm. Yeah, this is good.”

Hm?

Hm??

What does ‘hm’ mean?

Yua reaches over and frantically swats at Mariko’s sweatshirt in an attempt at telepathically communicating her many, many feelings concerning accidentally summoning a hero into this godsforsaken Denny’s parking lot.

“How did you find a stasis glyph?” Cryptid mumbles around his fork.

“Copied it from you. My quirk lets me mimic actions if I see them without blinking.” Mariko peers around his shoulder at the lines taking form.

“That’s such a cool quirk,” Cryptid tells her instantly. “Do you need a clear line of sight? Is it only capable of copying real-life actions or can you use recordings? Oh, are you limited to your own flexibility and strength, or is this a mirror skill instead of a mimic? You could use that for anything, it’s a very adaptable power.”

Yua cautiously edges closer to give the camera a better angle at the ground while Mariko preens. “What are you even doing?”

“Editing. Here, look- right there, you tied it down with intent contrary to the meaning.” Cryptid shuffles over so she can see and points out a circled section. He smudges out the blurry patch.

Mariko watches eagerly as the hero replaces it with a mishmash of lines that Yua can actually make sense of. “I don’t understand any of what you just said, but hell fuckin’ yeah, you funky lil’ cryptid.”

“Oh, sorry. I get called whenever the void gets angry, and this is the language it speaks,” Cryptid says, like this makes sense. He taps the lines eagerly. “Put a stasis glyph on the ground and continents will stop shifting, which is a whole lot of bad news."

"Uh huh," Mariko says. Yua swats at her again, because there's no way she understands and going along with this for entertainment value alone is going to get them into some sort of horror movie B-Plot.

Cryptid just looks amused. "Next time you need to experiment, use a paper base instead of the concrete. It’s safer. And- is that blood?”

“Maybe,” Mariko says, partially as a dare for him to say anything because she isn’t really the type to listen to anyone, regardless of if they’re a hero. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“Huh. Yeah, you got me there.” Cryptid puts his bowl of salad on the ground and fishes around in his Uravity sweatshirt for a tiny med kit.

“Where’d we go wrong,” Mariko asks, like they are ever going to try this again. Yua hisses for her to stop and is ignored with the extreme confidence of someone determined to keep making the same continuous mistake until success is summoned through stubborn willpower alone.

“You didn’t need to hurt yourself.” Cryptid bandages her hand, slips away the medkit, and says gravely, “Blood never brings anything good.”

“Holy shit,” Yua repeats as Cryptid takes a bite of salad and goes right back to his art project like this happens every other Tuesday. Mariko glares at her, but honestly, this is the wildest thing.

The hero keeps saying things.

“Not to lecture either of you, but it’s a bad idea to mess around with unborn languages without supervision.” Cryptid hands back the chalk and takes another bite of his salad. “This stuff can blow up in your face. So, can I escort you guys anywhere? Because it’s a little dark and this isn’t exactly the safest part of town.”

That’s about when Yua realizes something under the spinach is glowing.

[fizzingwizard]

So I’m sure you’re ALL on tenterhooks to find out what I thought of episode 36... the answer is.... LOVED IT!!!! No I really did. If you like Taishiro friendship, this is an essential episode to watch. Doesn’t blow me out of the water, but still just good.

Although Taichi has a big something to do as usual, it’s still very much a Koushirou episode. FREAKING YAY. I have a dozen thoughts about it, and what bugs me the most, of course, is how we needed this episode AGES ago ugh. But we’ve now had two or three episodes in a row that have actually felt like Digimon Adventure, so perhaps all that finger-crossing is working?

They could unravel all that good work in a minute by never addressing it again... or not letting Koushirou show his personality unless it’s his “turn” for an episode from here on... but you know, I will cross that bridge when we come to it.

Pic of the day:

“I don’t like people. But they are occasionally useful.” - 2020 Izumi Koushirou’s life lesson, lmao

*The red strip at the top is about the big earthquake that hit Eastern Japan yesterday. It’s annoying to have it there for the entire episode - usually they only stick around for a couple minutes - but this WAS a large earthquake. It caused many people to lose power. So making sure everyone knows what’s going takes precedence over Sunday morning cartoons. (I’m in Osaka and didn’t even feel it, but my friends in Tokyo prefecture very much did.)

Lots and LOTS of ranting from a rabid Taishiro fan under the cut!

(also I didn’t check for typos so. yeah)

The episode starts right off by assuring us this is a Koushirou episode. We get the trademark Izumi Koushirou floating in the void of space sequence, which is excellent and very encouraging framing.

Koushirou Kenobi: “Use the force, Taichi.”

Taichi: “Use it yourself.”

(the episode in a nutshell)

The initial thing that bugged me - okay, so the kids got separated for the umpteenth time many episodes ago, and since then we’ve stuck to Taichi like barnacles. The only glimpses we’d get of the other kids showed: Yamato running towards something, Koushirou flying towards something while researching the satellite malfunction, Jou in the hot springs, and Mimi at the crystal caves. For Jou and Mimi, I don’t care, because they never tried to move, but Yamato and Koushirou were constantly moving. Yet, in the end, it’s Taichi’s group that catches up with Koushirou, rather than the other way around. It DOES make sense - it seems like Koushirou told them to “meet at the giant gold pillar” because that’s where they needed to be to save the world, so it became the rendezvous point. But it just bugs me because, once again, all the activity is on Taichi’s side. But that’s a minor quibble. The end result is still THIS:

More of the team is together!!! Taichi and Koushirou are together!!! Yaaayy!!!

... the betting pool for how long it will be till the next separation is now open >.>

Poor Komodomon’s long mop dog fur is so dirty. “Fizz his fur always looks like that.” He’s tracking mud everywhere. “Fizz look at his ears his fur is supposed to look that way.” Next episode - everyone gives Komondomon a bath.

So the start of this episode is just a bunch of talking about how dire things are with the satellite situation. I’m not gonna bother translating. Watch the sub when it’s out if you really want to know :P The important thing is, the gold pillar is directly causing the malfunction, no one on Earth can stop the satellite from plummeting to Tokyo, the city is being evacuated, and there are only 20 minutes till impact.

Koushirou has an elaborate plan which Sora adorably sums up as “So, we’re gonna shoot it out of the sky *makes punching motion*”

The crux of Koushirou’s plan hinges on a repeat of how Omegamon saved Tokyo from the missile way back in like, episode 2 or 3. Taichi says, “Yeah, but I barely remember how we did that.” Which is hilarious because I don’t remember either because it was 30 EPISODES AGO. Once again this episode feels like it was meant to happen WAY EARLIER THAN IT DID. It’s just weird to be referencing something that happened 30 episodes ago after everything else that’s happened, AND on top of that, there are many references in this episode and none from later than like, episode 10 or 12. Making this all seem very oddly timed.

I’m not quite sure if, within the story itself, it matters that Taichi “doesn’t remember well.” He also doesn’t remember the Devimon battle where he and Agumon were infected with dark energy. That one makes sense for him not to remember. If that hadn’t happened, I would just take his “I don’t remember how we stopped the missile” to just mean it was so long ago. But together, it’s making me wonder if something else is going on.

Or maybe Taichi’s just been hit on the head one too many times (okay, that seems the most likely of all, haha)

People of Tokyo: Is it Godzilla again? I heard he’s itching to fight King Kong. You know, given how often our city is attacked by kaiju, some might wonder why we haven’t moved away by now. But home is home, ya know?

The group sets up to fly to the peak of the gold pillar. Obviously, without Yamato, there’s no Omegamon. No one points this out, but Koushirou seems very stressed with his plan, and it seems that he contacted Taichi in the first place because he thought “Taichi’s the one who can pull this off.”

After hearing the plan, Taichi shoots him through the heart with another “Koushirou, you’re so awesome!” and YAY I MISSED THIS SO MUCH!!!!!! *sobs*

Then he does his best to reassure Koushirou by remaining positive and determined that they can and will do this no matter how much Koushirou waves. The majority of the episode is them flying up the pillar while being assaulted by enemies trying to stop them, so it’s not like they get to talk about their feelings (lol). But at least we get a bunch of close ups of Koushirou’s and Taichi’s expressions, and that’s how we see this dynamic in play. Yes, Koushirou is the brainy one who made the plan, but he doesn’t have the confidence to take the lead, so he handed the reins to Taichi. As for Taichi - yes he has the confidence, yes he can do it... but he also has absolute faith in Koushirou. So that’s why this episode makes my little Koushirou fanatic heart skip a beat.

First of the enemies is this guy, aptly named BladeKuwagamon.

They’re actually pretty scary! They do real damage. (Blood in Digimon word is glowy unicorn-like stuff haha). Birdramon gets stabbed, but before Sora can get too upset, she just yanks the blade out of her chest...

... and then crushes it into dust with her beak.

Sora: Holy crap, my partner is metal AF.

Forgot to mention earlier but 5 whole minutes of the 20 minute countdown are used up just by digivolving apparently xD Taichi keeps asking Koushirou “how much time is left” and Koushirou’s panic grows more visible with each passing second...

MetaLiffeKuwagemon looks cooler than he is. Supposedly he’s there to bring out the big guns, but to be honest...

... the BladeKuwagamon don’t seem to need the help :P The enemy’s strategy is obvious: isolate each member of the team to prevent anyone from getting to the top. This is why Koushirou’s so stressed: he’s got a plan that is totally reliant on there being a leader strong enough to pull it off AND there being enough backup to protect that leader from the large number of enemies. And Koushirou doesn’t like these odds.

Garudamon gets stabbed AGAIN

Sora: Go on, we’ll be fine.

Taichi: Are you sure??

Garudamon: *DESTROYS EVERYTHING WITH FIRE*

I MEAN HONESTLY! Garudamon is not only my favorite of Piyomon’s evolutions, it’s pretty much my favorite Adventure evolution. Always has been since I was 11 years old. And she (and Sora) NEVER get that credit. Like. Growing up, with US dub Adventure, I interpreted Sora as more of a straight up tomboy than she is in the original. That’s okay, that’s whatever, but what was most important to me was that I saw her as the third “strong” member along with Taichi and Yamato. Those two were clearly in a class above her, but I saw her as being in the same “Taiorato” league. Garudamon seemed to prove that: she was so cool, so powerful, and... yeah, I just always thought she had so much potential to be awesome and never got why it wasn’t used. That’s also why I was disappointed in Tri - like, I liked Soushitsu, but I just wanted more from Sora’s arc. Same thing in Kizuna: I understand Sora’s arc, I don’t hate it or anything - I think it makes sense for her. But since I wanted something different for her all those years ago, it just left me feeling a bit flat.

but enough about other Digimon series :P Garudamon gets to be super cool here and I only hope we get to see more of it in this reboot. I’ll forgive it some of its other mistakes if we do :D

With Takeru/Hikari and Sora isolated by the BladeKuwagamon, it’s up to Taichi and Koushirou alone to race against the clock! Their teeth are clenched, sweat runs in rivulets down their skin, their hearts are pounding in desperation...

Koushirou: Taichi-san! If we don’t get to the top soon it’ll be too late!

Taichi: Just don’t call me late for dinner!

Koushirou: ASDFGHJKL;’ DAD JOKES NOW?? REALLY????????

MetaLiffeKuwagamon makes life that much harder by knocking them against the pillar. However, this is a pillar of data, which enabled the BladeKuwagamon to evolve into MetaLiffeKuwagamon in the first place. Bugs aren’t that bright.

Taichi and MetalGreymon are nearly submerged inside the pillar as a result, and then we get this sequence of red and black. The pillar had been emitting dark lightning, so I started to think... omg... is MetalGreymon gonna get a Dark Evolution???????

.... Nah. That would have made sense, but.... nah :P

Overall I’m glad though, because that would really have turned this into a Taichi episode instead of a Koushirou one.

I’m not personally certain what the point of bringing BlitzGreymon out was. I had figured he would be like, a super fast evolution that would enable them to make it to the top. That would also have turned this into a Taichi episode. But...

... Taichi tells Koushirou that he will have to go divert the satellite because Taichi has to deal with MetaLiffeKuwagamon.

I was both really pleased and really surprised. Because, again, now what’s the point of BlitzGreymon...? Why did we need a new Agumon evolution? There’s no particular reason why they couldn’t have just isolated Taichi with the enemy the same way the others were and had him tell Koushirou to keep going on his own then. They did do that, but first they gave him a new evolution. Why? Just because it’s cool?? I assume that must be the reason but we don’t even see BlitzGreymon fight xD It’s... it’s weird. But whatever.

Taichi: Go, Koushirou!!!!! You can do it!!!!!

Fiz: *dies a thousand brilliant deaths*

So, Koushirou tells Taichi that he can’t do it - he can support Taichi, but he can’t take the lead. Taichi’s just like that’s wack, dude, of course you can do it. What I LOVE about Taichi and Koushirou’s dynamic is just that: Taichi never sees Koushirou as a weakling. The fact that he’s small, or that he’s brains over brawn, or even that he’s kinda antisocial - those are all reasons an energetic, extroverted kid like Taichi might bully, or at least think poorly, of Koushirou.

But Taichi values Koushirou. He knows how hard he works and is impressed both by that hard work and his talent. What’s more, he doesn’t see Koushirou’s brains as his support system. The whole time Koushirou’s thinking he’s there to support Taichi with his plan, Taichi was thinking, “I’m here to support Koushirou’s plan.” That is SO, SO important. And that’s why I LOVE this episode. The one thing the reboot seemed to really understand, that hooked me from the start, was the way it just GOT Taichi and Koushirou. They each support and follow each other, while each feeling like the other is better than them. Ugh I could like, cry over Taishiro now... omg....

Taichi is successful in pushing Koushirou to go on, but of course Koushirou himself is still plagued with doubts. He reflects on how he’s always been fine being alone. He hasn’t particularly wanted friends and didn’t mind not having them, even though adults worried.

(Side note: this is a normal, if kinda rare, personality trait. I have it too. I always score Koushirou on “what Digimon character are you?” tests too lmao. Just like some people feel the need to be surrounded by others at all times, there are those whose social needs are very very low. I’m one of them. There’s nothing wrong with it except that even those people can get lonely and it’s easy to misunderstand them as shy or snobby. So what I love about Koushirou is, yes he learns to value his relationships more, but also learns to value himself. He is Koushirou: a brainy kid who’s happy on his own, but also happy with friends. While some people, like Mimi, struggle with that aspect of his personality, others, like Taichi, just accept it. To me that’s the best life lesson there is: there are always people who can and will be friends with you. Yes, I’ve lost friends because I just wasn’t social enough for them. But I have other friends who I’ve known for literal decades now. And I REALLY love those friends.)

Koushirou feels grateful that he has AlturKabuterimon, and also that he has Taichi. So... here he is, reflecting on the last time he had meaningful interaction with that great friend Taichi... back in episode three. -____________-

Seriously, this would mean a lot more if this dynamic had been built on continually until this episode...

Koushirou then briefly reflects on each of the other Chosen. Notably, every single solo image of them is from an episode that Koushirou either wasn’t in or wasn’t with them at the moment. Then we get this group image. It’s from EPISODE 12. (I’m actually not sure of the episode number but the point is, it’s from A LONG LONG TIME AGO. I think it’s the swamp episode??) That drives me NUTS. We shouldn’t have to reach soooo far back to find meaningful moments!!! Urk.

Koushirou makes it to the peak of the pillar and AlturKabuterimon attacks the satellite to drive it off course. We see the impression of what looks to be HerculesKabuterimon and I really thought we’d get an evolution - it seemed way more appropriate than freaking BlitzGreymon - but nope.

Oh well. Koushirou still saves the day. The people at home get to see the Crest of Knowledge take over their screens, hopefully giving rise to the idea that a nerd superhero is protecting them. Koushirou is the hero we deserve.

The satellite falls into the water. I was like, shouldn’t that cause a tsunami lol?

... be careful what you wish for >_>;

fortunately people were evacuated soooo things will be okay.

He did it!! He’s so happy! AlturKabuterimon’s triumphant holler is adorable.

Taichi and BlitzGreymon fought hard OFF SCREEN!! OFF SCREEN!! HIP HIP HOORAY! And then we get to see him leaning on Sora T_T could this episode give me any more perfect moments?? Looooove it

So yeah, if you can’t tell, I’m thrilled with this episode. There are just a couple things I would have liked to improve: better animation, at least one palpable heart to heart between Taichi and Koushirou, or just a bit more time spent explictly in Koushirou’s head - but honestly we got something that is pretty darn good, especially for this reboot. I hope we do get more like this, both for Koushirou and for the others. I hope the growth here isn’t forgotten moving forward. I really, REALLY want to see more of that “I lead, you support me - you lead, I support you” mutually beneficial relationship that is the foundation of Taishiro <3

So next week! Mimi’s back and the heads are gonna roll!

Lmao!

My theory that she’s finding crystals to make Crests seems unlikely to be the case now that we know the rocks constract the rock Digimon. But... hey, we’ll find out next week.

Also Taichi’s gonna make this face after talking with Mimi bahahahaha. I can’t wait.

[dappercritter]

Invader Zim: Taller Tales of Terror - The First Fic That Wasn’t

This was going to be my first fanfiction that I ever published, but things came up and I found other story ideas and fandoms to get into. However, because there’s nothing I hate more than leaving a story untold and forgotten.

 So like a writer jilted by a big name studio working on a big superhero movie that went terribly wrong after they left, I’m going to share it with you good folks to see if you still think there’s hope for it in some capacity. If so maybe I’ll choose to revive it in some capacity, or one of you kind folks can adopt it. Whatever you think of the once untold tale I’m about tell you, I hope you enjoy it.

The fic would have been either a mini-series/anthology or a movie-esque sequel—or two—to Enter the Florpus.

It would have followed the stranger further misadventures the kids would go on as teenagers, all of which have at least something to do with getting taller, literally or metaphorically.

 Although I'd do my best to recreate the series' darkly comic tone, there'd be more to the story than just that. I'd like to do a sort of character study with my fanfics and explore what they would do as they got older, how they would change if they could change, if they'd mature and try to connect with each other more, or if they really do just hate each other. It'd be like a coming-of-age story but done in the style of Invader Zim.

 But don’t be fooled, folks! It's not going to be one of those big dramatic fanfics with high stakes (nor any smut) thrown in. At it's core it's still just a fun, dumb, mildly disturbed "What if?" sort of fic. There would be a bit more emphasis on character and plot than normal, because I do love me a good character-driven plot, but still plenty of room for (what I hoped would feel like) the usual weird dumb creepy fun that original series excelled at.

 The story is set in basically the same continuity (or at least the closest thing to a continuity that can exist in Invader Zim) as the show and comics. The only difference is that the Battle of Meekrob actually happened—but not really.

 Long backstory short, there was a big showdown between the Irken Armada and the Meekrob-allied Resisty, but Zim and Dib missed it because a food fight got them stuck in detention. Zim tried to get Skoodge (who was rooming with him at the time because the scrapped Season 2 episodes were sorta canon here) to cover for him until her got there, while Dib tried to get Gaz to take Tak’s ship to provide support against the Irken. By the time they got out, however, the battle was over, Gaz blew the whole thing off to get a new game, Skoodge and some other Invader became the war hero Zim always aspired to be, and The Almighty Tallest decided to cancel Operation Impending Doom 2 because after the big exciting space battle they felt like they couldn’t top anything after that. Suffice to say, Zim took it pretty hard. Dib however would have seen this as something of a win since Zim still failed in a sense. Albeit it was a very anticlimactic win, even to him.

The actual story would have taken place about 5 years after the Battle of Meekrob, where Zim, Dib, and Gaz have made it to high school (or “hi-skool” as this is the Invader Zim universe, after all). Setting wise, things haven't changed much but the characters have made a few surprising or not-so-surprising developments. The most important of all, so important that it would be the focus of the entire story, in fact! would have been Zim developing a brand-new disguise utilizing an exoskeleton, based partially on the Almighty Tallest, in attempt to make him look like a normal teenager AND impress superiors. Naturally, things go horribly yet amusingly wrong for everyone involved.

 Now just where and what has everyone been up to/going through in those five years? Here’s a rundown:

-Zim spent those 5 years obsessing over his crushing failure, begging the Tallest to give him another chance, which they refused every time. Being stuck on a planet of smelly, stupid, and increasingly annoying creatures for so long without any real victories has left him bitter and frantic with more shmoopiness than usual. Even the little "VICTORY FOR ZIM!" moments he used to have got harder and harder to come by. By the time he reached high school, he was so messed up he didn’t realize his classmates had all had growth spurts until Dib easily overpowered him in one of their petty fights and points it out to the whole school. Thus, leading to the new exoskeleton and subsequent schemes to redeem himself in the eyes of the Tallest while looking normal in the eyes of his human classmates. Unfortunately, due to his desperation and general lack of understanding about the human body, the exoskeleton comes out looking like a lanky robotic nightmare with clawed fingers that jerks around like a big cybernetic marionette.

-Dib meanwhile has been doing slightly better. He and his paranormal research are still looked down upon, but he's persevered through the hope that someday he'll prove he's right. After (indirectly) stopping Zim from joining the Battle of Meekrob, Dib got a small confidence boost, thinking of it as a big step to exposing for Zim real now that he’s effectively trapped on Earth with him now. Although, following a rather blunt intervention from his family, he's started thinking about what he’ll do with himself once Zim is gone. He still hates his guts and he's still hellbent on beating him, but he's also started getting out more and trying to socialize more—however awkward his attempts may be. That he's also gotten taller and his head isn't quite as big compared to the rest of his body has been good for his self-esteem too. But make no mistake—when he's not going for runs, working shifts at his dad’s lab, or looking into a “totally normal” science major, he's toiling away on improving his array of anti-Zim strategies and defenses.

-Gaz is doing pretty good but she is totally done with Zim and Dib's junk. Although she's still her old apathetic self, she's doing everything in her power to broaden her horizons so she doesn't end up in the same, stupid rut that they ended up in. She would have gotten into indie art and game development; although her work is still fairly obscure, it's quickly gaining attention for it's macabre, edgy, punishing and geeky nature. (Imagine the works of Jhonen Vasquez, Toby Fox, Hidetaka Miyazaki, and Hideki Kamiya mashed together.) She also participates in e-sports tournaments on occasion, if only because crushing countless so-called “gamers” brings her amusement. Her psychic powers have also gotten stronger with her age, and she likes to experiment with them whenever she can—usually when somebody really annoys her. She's doing fine in the story until, after a run-in with a certain unkillable spoiled brat at an e-sports tournament, sends her over the edge and she trashes the place in a Carrie-esque episode. This gets her sent to anger management therapy, and now she's trying to find a way out to avoid sitting through an endless slog of "sappy" sessions.

-Gir would still be insane.

-Minimoose would still be the ultimate techno-lifeform Minimoose.

-Zim's Computer is still tired.

 -Prof. Membrane is still the greatest and most powerful scientist who ever lived but he’s also trying to make time for his family more and mentoring Dib to be the successor to his legacy he always thinks he was meant to be. That is if is experimental new immortality machine doesn’t work out. May or may not have to fend off Clembrane whenever he comes to visit.

-The Almighty Tallest are still living content, tyrannical lives. They didn't take canceling Operation Impending Doom 2 very hard because, as it turns out, they just got bored with it after a while. (Of course, Zim's repeated interference didn't help keep their spirits up either). However, they'd come up with the perfect plan to obtain absolute control of the universe AND get the feeling back: by making Operation Impending Doom 3 a thing and setting up a huge hype campaign for it. Thing go pretty well for them until Zim calls them and tells them about his new exosuit. They believe that Zim is trying to make himself look like a Tallest so he can lead a rebellion against them and get revenge for treating him like garbage. (He's not, obviously, but they're too dumb and paranoid to realize this.) So, they pretend that they're ok with it and let him carry on his merry way while they figure out how to dispose of him without making him look like a martyr figure of some sort, thus giving the other Irkens they mistreated any ideas.

-Tak would show up again in the second half and this is where it gets spoiler-y. She would come to Earth on the Tallest’s orders with a squad consisting of a reformatted Mimi, rogue SIR units, as well as Tenn and Skoodge who she had recruited to aid in her vendetta against Zim. She would subsequently reveal that after drifting through space in an escape pod, she crashed landed on Meekrob just as the battle was about to begin, and using the element of surprise, rescued Tenn from captivity and assisted Skoodge and the Tallest in devising a battle strategy so brilliant that it crushed the Resisty and Meekrob’s alliance and earned her the status of Irken Elite. She grew comfortable in her new position but could never get over her fear that Zim would eventually ruin it all again, so she waited and prepared for the day she would strike back. I don’t know how or if she would adopt an updated disguise (perhaps a hologram of her older humansona projected over her, Tenn, and Skoodge standing on top of her shoulders?) or hide in the shadows while Tenn, Skoodge, Mimi and the berserk SIR squad did her dirty work.

 -Skoodge would have gone from aspiring to be Zim’s friend to being his worst enemy after Tak turned him to her side by digging into his past with him, making him realize how little his supposed old friend cared about him. Despite this he still keeps an unusually cheerful disposition—even repeatedly apologizing to Zim whenever he attacks him—and acts as the heart of Tak’s squad. He thinks of them as his real friends, so he always goes out of his way to help them out or keep the energy up. Even though Tak looks down on him because of his size, she appreciates his gullibility and unquestioning loyalty. Tenn just thinks he’s nice, especially since he’s good at keeping the SIRs in check.

 -Tenn has recovered from the traumatic escapades she endured on Meekrob at the hands of the rogue SIR units and imprisonment under the enemy, returning to her usual competant Invader self—something Tak values quite a bit in an armada largely composed of egomaniacs and morons. Tenn values Tak’s companionship even more, viewing her as a conquering hero who not only won the most important battle of Irken history, but also, her heart. …Not she’ll ever act on her feelings. That would inconveniance the mission! (Although Skoodge has picked up on this and gladly supports her, thinking they’d make an adorable couple.) After investation revealed that Zim was supposed to receive the rogue SIR units instead of her while he trashed the Megadoomer that was rightfully assigned to her, she bought into Tak’s view that Zim’s very existence was a threat to all Irkenkind, gladly assisting her efforts to eradicate him.

 -Mimi and the rogue SIR units have been reprogrammed to be less insane and follow orders again thanks to Tak and Skoodge’s efforts. However, Tak also had a berserk mode installed specfically for eradicating targets with optimal, brutal efficiency. Mimi still tends to glitch though. In addition to Mimi retaining her cat holo-disguise, the berserker SIRs would gain new disguises resembling either feral cats or rabid teacup poodles. (I hadn’t decided yet.) Tenn still gets anxious around them.

 -Gretchen might show up again and would possibly get to reconnect with Dib, maybe even finally be honest with him about her feelings for him when she surprises him with her surprising new position at Membrane Labs: the janitor.

 -Keef will… er, uh… actually, don’t get your hopes up.

 Well, I think that’s everyone important. Okay back to the plot now!

 So, right up front, the biggest part of the plot as well as the biggest reason why I got uncomfortable with the whole thing was there wiould be some romance in here between a few couples and that it would have figured into the plot. The most significant of all: ZAGR (a.k.a. Zim and Gaz Relationship). But I wanted to make it feel organic and even sweet without sacrificing the feel of sardonic madness but also keeping it in the wholesome zone.

 I always felt like Zim and Gaz were a natural fit for each other (like quite a few other people, admittedly) because I always felt like their personalities were a good fit and they could have a lot in common. The story would follow them as they unexpectedly developed a romantic friendship, bonding over their resentment of the Earth and humanity, their absent family members, a love of technology of questionable intent, and subjugating those who anger them. It would all start with Gaz agreeing to help Zim improve his suit and his unassuming human act just to get back at Dib for annoying her. At first they’d be acting entirely out of spite and necessity, but as they spent more time together, they’d start to enjoy each other’s company more.

 Gaz would be the first develop feelings, since she voluntarily rejected the concept of love instead of being programmed to reject it like Zim, as she slowly realizes how much they have in common—much to her horror. Zim would take more time but when he begins to understand how he feels about and just what these DISGUST feelings are, he’d handle it just as poorly. (e.g. I pictured a scene where Zim has such a hard time admitting his feelings for Gaz that he ends up vomiting black goo like he’s possessed or something. For comedy of course.) But they’d both start to open up to each other in the end, if only because they’re the only two people in the universe they can stand. Gaz would try to help him overcome his anxiety and stop caring as much about what humans think of him, while he would be someone that she can actually relate to.

 Dib, however, would take sincerest offense to it. He’d be totally freaking out, nearly diving off the deep end to put his plans to defeat Zim into action and expose him before he could be exposed. He’d also make a point of demanding what Gaz could see in a monster like him, even reminding her of everything that Zim had done. Probably in an exchange like this:

 DIB: He stole our organs! He tried to crush the planet with Mars! He kidnapped me and threatened to turn me inside out! He tricked me into helping him teleport Earth into outer space so his rulers could destroy it! He turned me into bologna, Gaz! (*holding back tears*) BOLOGNE!

 GAZ: I thought you got over that.

 DIB: Well, physically I did, yes, but not mentally.

 Gir would be pretty on board with it though.

The other biggest plot of the series would have been Tak’s return and the reveal of her and the Tallest’s master plan to destroy Zim once and for all: kick off Operation Impending Doom 3 by placing Zim on trial, executing him, and completing Tak’s plan to turn the planet Earth into a snack bowl for the Tallest (which she still insists is a good plan, she just never got to complete it) big enough to feed them while they watch the conquest of the rest of the universe in style. Zim and the Membranes get through to her and her squad, and possibly the other Irkens, by turning them against the Tallest to stop the Irkens once and for all. Maybe.

Finally to wrap this little nightmare up, here’s a vague outline of the stories I had planned for this wannabe whopper:  

 -A Whole New Nightmare – Following an amusing prologue about how Zim and Dib ended up missing the battle of Meekrob, Zim finally realizes that his natural Irken height threatens to expose his façade to all the classmates who have reached proper adolescent human height. He creates his exosuit then proceeds to cause a scene when he calls the Tallest and goes to hi-skool. Meanwhile, Gaz bugs Dib about still wasting his time bullying Zim. Zim then challenges Dib to a contest of normalcy: a series of challenges that are just overhyped normal teenage things like loitering, hanging out with friends, and finally a dance-off. Whoever loses has to admit they’re a complete weirdo and admit they’re most embarrassing secret. Dib wins the first round, but after he blows off Gaz to hang out with the other kids, she and Zim strike up a nice conversation and he wins the second round. The final dance-off ends in a draw when Zim and Dib both end up looking like total dorks. The story ends with Dib and Zim standing up for themselves against their judgemental peers, but Zim ends up overtaking his big speech and convincing his classmates to completely forget about his bizarre new appearance.

-Gaz the Befriended - Zim and Gaz make a deal: Gaz helps him fine tune his suit while posing as his "NORMAL HUMAN!" friend, and in return he helps her figure out how to control her powers while posing as her friend so she won't have to go to anger management counselling. While they do drive each other nuts, they eventually learn they have a lot in common and start acting like real friends. Dib grows suspicious of their "friendship," sets out to uncover the truth.

 -They Follow - Dib goes on social media to share his findings on Zim with the world in an attempt to verify all his evidence via wisdom of the crowd. Zim finds out and retaliates by joining social media as well to make himself look like a hard luck case in an effort to gain sympathy from the (basically ignorant) public. As their war of words escalate and their follower bases grow, they end up starting a flame war that threatens to destroy society itself.

-Star Dib - Hoping to find some real help, Dib sends a message to outer space looking for reinforcements. He ends up with what remains of the Resisty, who dissolved after their crushing defeat on The Battle of Meekrob. Taking pity on them, he volunteers to become their new leader. Shenanigans ensue on a galactic level.

 -C for Conspiracy - Dib stumbles across a mysterious conspiracy involving Earth tech being backwards compatible with alien tech. He wants to take it on himself, but realizes that he might actually need Zim’s help. So he has to swallow his pride and ask him for help, and as if that weren’t enough he has to put up with his and Gir’s (who tagged along) antics.

 -Night of the Living Prom-goers - Prom night comes along and all the hormonally-imbalanced kids are ready to go, except for Zim, Dib, and Gaz. Until Gaz works up the nerve to ask Zim out, which he actually accepts. While Gaz prepares for her perfect tolerable evening, Dib desperately tries to convince her that Zim’s up to something while trying uncover his true motives, only for her to snap at him and challenge his views on Zim. Little do either of them know, Zim plans to use the prom as an experiment to harness Gaz’s power for his own ends. But at the same time, he ponders whether his friendship with Gaz is just a means to an end or something more. Either way it will be a night they will never forget. Or survive! Probably.

 -The Return of Tak’s Revenge Rises - Tak finally returns to take her revenge on Zim and the Membrane siblings. Striking them when they least expect with the aid of an upgraded MiMi, a squad of berserk SIR units, and two fellow invaders Zim had wronged in the past.

 -Doomed Together - Following Tak’s strike, the Almighty Tallest kick off Operation Impending Doom 3 with a mission of utmost importance: sending in the Irken Armada to ensure Zim is destroyed once for all so they can finally proceed with absolute universal domination. Now, Gaz, Dib, and some unlikely allies must come up with a plan to save their even more unlikely new friend and the rest of the universe from the most fearsome force in the universe! It’s basically the grand finale.

 And that is all there is, or was, to Taller Tales of Terror. I can’t guarantee I’ll ever revisit it, what with all the other stuff on my plate right now, but I’m glad to have finally shared the story of my first fanfic with y’all.

 So, tell me, my filthy monkey maggot mutual friends. After all that horrible rambling, what did you think?

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Cassell Cynics: Part 5 (End...?)

OCs are @hectab ‘s . Dinnae Steal! :D that’s my job. :3c

Hana sprinted from Nathan’s dorm towards Guderian’s class room, full of desperation. She kicked off the silly heels Cassell forced her to wear and let the pavement pound through her bare feet. As she ran, she called the professor on her cell phone again and again, but he didn’t pick up. She imagined him teaching a class. She would disrupt it. She would get into trouble maybe she would be disciplined. But they were making a mistake! She had to get them to change their mind!

How come Fingel got to stay as rank F and Nathan was getting expelled as a Rank C? It wasn’t fair! Nathan had way more potential than Fingel and even if he didn’t do anything... why was his mental health not a concern to them? They were the ones who decided to keep him! This is partly their fault. But all Guderian regretted was not being able to refund his tuition! 

She took the twenty stairs up to the main teaching hall in a single bound. Her dark ponytail flying behind her. The doors were already propped open but no one was in the halls. She kept running, expecting resistance. But finding none at all. In fact, all the lights were off as if the classes were finished for the semester.

She dialed Guderian’s number again and it rang and rang. She could hear it ringing in the classroom ahead of her. How could he just ignore her calls like this!

Hana burst through the double doors into a classroom that was empty and dark.  The lights were out and the shades were drawn. The person standing at Guderian’s usual desk was Schneider! He was like a gargoyle in a dark trenchcoat. His sharp eyes glared from behind the half mask over his face. He was holding Guderian’s phone.

“You sent those texts?!” Hana gasped.

Strong arms seized Hana from either side of the doors and dragged her forward, pushing her into a chair in front of him. Hana was overtaken with confusion. “What’s happening? Where’s Professor Guderian?”

She looked up at either one of the people holding on to her. They were members of the Executive Board. Not students, full members!  “What’s going on? Where’s Nathan?”

“You’re too late. He’s already in with Toyama. His brainwashing has commenced.” Schneider said smoothly, setting the phone down. “And you will not be allowed to interfere.”

---

Nathan kept his head up high as he faced the psychologist Dr. Toyama. “It was a nice run.” He grinned. “Wish it could have lasted.”

Toyama, dressed in his usual brown tailored suit raised his eyebrows in surprise as he took a seat across from him. “You’re the cheeriest patient I’ve had the pleasure of working with.”

“Really? I’m guessing that they either don’t know what you really do or ... they’re here against their will. I’m neither of those things. I would have preferred to let my tuition run out first but... hey I get it. I’m not supposed to be here so... here we are!”

“Do you really not feel the Blood Cry at all?” Toyama asked. He picked up an iPad and started writing with a stylus.

“What difference does it make? I’m C-ranked. I don’t qualify for College. You don’t ask students if they feel the Blood Cry if they fail the 3E do you? You just kick them out.”

Toyama smiled, his eyes kind and gentle. “But you didn’t fail the 3E.”

Nathan gave a nervous laugh, his arms crossing over his chest. He glanced around and his eyes fell on hidden cameras very quickly. “You people were the ones who told me I got a C-rank. That’s a fail by your own rules. Why are you suddenly saying I didn’t fail. Did someone falsify my records?”

“I’m required to be present during the 3E. So I remember you. You were nervous but I remember you had a glimmer of excitement in your eyes. You didn’t seem to doubt yourself going in. But after the test was over...”

Nathan interrupted. “The 3E sucks. There are people who have to go to the hospital after! You’re there so they don’t blow their brains out after seeing their visions.”

“It only ‘sucks’ if they actually resonate...” Toyama said coldly.

Toyama sat in silence for several seconds and watched Nathan start to sweat. He rubbed his hands on his pants then suddenly relaxed. “Oh! I have my book with me. I figured I’d go for uh...Jason Bourne. You know, a secret spy who was ‘decomissioned’ by a black government program.” He opened to the correct page and showed it to Toyama. “Give me that memory please.”

Toyama took the notebook from him. There were over a hundred different scenarios of different reasons to explain the lost year from an erased memory, each one getting more and more elaborate as the time went on. But Toyama flipped to the first page.

“Hey! Don’t just go flipping through all of it!” Two members of the discipline committee caught Nathan before he could snatch the book back and restrained him back into the chair.

Toyama read out loud. “August 12th... isn’t that the first day you enrolled? That’s also the first day you wanted to leave.”

Nathan glowered as he was being strapped to the chair with belt like attachments. “Why do you care? Fine, you know what? I quit! I quit and I drop out. I drop out right now!”

“You wanted to leave immediately after the 3E. You could have dropped out then but you didn’t....” Toyama closed the book. “But now you’re suddenly eager to go. What changed?”

“I wanted to enjoy my time here... But you won’t let me...” Nathan snarled.

“We won’t let you enjoy your time? You’ve been here a year and have done nothing but break the rules without consequences.” Toyama said.

“Stop. Just stop! You want me... out there. Fighting in this stupid war! That’s why I’m here. If you really thought I was useless you would have kicked me out! Right?”

“Who wants you fighting in the war against dragons..?” Toyama asked slowly.

Like quicksand, Nathan felt like the more he talked, the deeper he sank. “Do you not hear me! I said I quit! I quit!” He roared louder and louder. “You can’t keep me here!”

“You feel the Blood Cry more strongly than you admit. If I erase your mind the consequences could be disastrous.”

“Why are you stalling? What did she tell you?!” He pulled against the restraints.

“Why don’t you let us help you?”

“I don’t WANT your help!”

Toyama stared in wonder. It wasn’t that he was angry or frustrated. This man was terrified. “Why are you so scared of staying here?”

-----

His brainwashing was already in progress? Hana felt like the wind was knocked out of her.

"No! You have to stop it!”  Maybe if she ran, she could make it! The sharp click of a gun was loud against her head when she tried to stand. Her eyes turned to the sound and she stared down the bottomless barrel of a pistol. “Are you going to shoot me? Why? What’s going on...” Her voice was shaking and betrayed.

Schneider expression was completely pitiless. He looked like the Phantom of the Opera as he set a stop watch on the desk. “You have 10 seconds to explain or our decision is final.” 

“9...8...7...”

“I...” She stared at it, mind racing. “I promised him that I wouldn't say anything about what we talked about... Please he’s my only friend!”

“6...5...4...”

“He won’t survive out there, I know he won’t! Just let him stay! He never caused any trouble!”

“3...2...1..”

“He quit the test on purpose!”

The stop watch beeped and Schneider silenced it with a gloved finger. Hana was still out of breath from running and now she was panting from terror. “Please, just let him stay.”

“The test. You mean the 3E? No one ‘quits’ the 3E, but you said he did.” Schneider kept his frigid stare on her. “He’s not C-ranked and you know it. Why did you lie and say he was?”

“I don’t know if I lied.” Hana’s heart had never beat faster. “I don’t want to lie.”

“But you did.” Schneider raised a single scarred eyebrow. “Which makes this all the more remarkable.”

Schneider walked around the desk and sat down, resting his elbows on the desktop and twining his fingers in front of his face. “You’re a good student. One of the best. What are you doing, Hana?”

“I don’t have anyone else here. I think he’s a good guy. We can be friends. I just want you to leave him alone.” She said.

Schneider waved his hand slightly and the two Executive Board agents turned and left, closing the door.

“EVA!” He raised his voice suddenly. “I need you to remove yourself from this room for the next ten minutes.”

A female voice acknowledged from the PA system. “For the next 10 minutes, I will have no access to this classroom..”

Schneider kept his piercing pale eyes on her. “Everything you say from here on out will be strictly confidential unless you repeat it to others. If anyone asks me, I’ll never tell what you say here today.” She kept a guarded look so he added. “I have many, many secrets I never tell anyone, Hana. You can tell me.”

In their chat over dinner, Nathan had kept asking her if she was on his side and she was. She really was. She didn’t believe he was really high on drugs when he told her about the 3E exam, the vision he had of the dragons’ true nature. But the excuse that he was high when he said those things was too perfect to resist. It was a ‘get out of jail free card’. She had thought that all she had to say was he was high and she wouldn’t lie to the professors and they would go back to ignoring him. But now she found herself in even deeper trouble, facing down the head of the Executive Department. The most dangerous man on Earth! “You really promise you won’t tell anyone else?” 

-----------------

“You risk your mental health if you continue on this path. It’s self destructive.” Toyama continued to try to reason with Nathan. “I just want to make sure you understand the great risk you’re taking and that your decision is not being made rashly.”

Nathan hung his head, as though he were being led to the gallows. "It’s not being made rashly. I know exactly what I’m doing. I know I could just... end up jumping off a bridge once my memories are gone. I’ve been preparing for it. Seeing what works. Marijuana helps a lot. But the problem is you build up a tolerance over time. Especially as a hybrid. Music, weed, regular sleep... it all helps take the edge off the Blood Cry. Alcohol makes it worse alone but with weed it’ll help you sleep.”

“You’ve been experimenting on yourself this whole time?” Toyama ran his fingers along his chin. “You really are serious. If that’s the case, you’re right that I can’t keep you. I just want to know why. Both professionally and personally. I’ve never met anyone like you in my entire career.”

Nathan kept his silence. He didn’t look at Toyama any more.

Toyama’s phone suddenly buzzed. “Excuse me.”

Nathan nodded without looking up.

Toyama stepped out. His voice sounded through the door. He was talking to someone for a very long time. The two disciplinary committee students were still there and he glanced up at one. “I’m sure you guys are curious too...?”

“Not really. I don’t care if you’re here or not.” The square jawed man looked down on him contemptuously. “Frankly, I wonder why they’re wasting time hesitating.”

Nathan laughed softly and looked down. So long as he insisted on leaving, they wouldn’t be able to hold him. This was the final push. No doubt they were trying to force him to stay for their own reasons. They knew he was hiding something precious and they didn’t want to let him go.

--------------------

Hana looked up at Schneider on the phone. 

“Cancel his expulsion.” Schneider said simply.

A pause. Schneider asked. “Did he say why?”

Another longer pause and Schneider licked his lips. “Have you tried to dissuade him?”

Another pause. “Alright. I’ll see what I can do.”

Schneider hung up. “Well, it appears your friend is determined to leave. Unless you could convince him to stay, Toyama has no choice but to wipe his mind. You said you’re his friend right? What do you think?” Schneider’s manner had completely changed. While he wasn’t a warm personality, that frigid atmosphere was gone.

“I don’t want him to go. I’m afraid at what might happen. But he doesn't believe in Cassell or the mission.”

“Toyama seems to feel nervous about wiping him as well but he has been unable to convince him to stay so far. Do you think you can?”

“Professor Schneider. When you look at me, do you think I could be someone who could actually kill a dragon given the opportunity? Please. Be honest.” Hana Sato asked.

The hiss of Schneider’s oxygen tank was audible in the silence, and it hissed 3 times before he finally answered. “When humans battle with dragons, our victory tends to be a pyrrhic victory.”

“What’s a pyrrhic victory?” She tilted her head.

Those light eyes sparkled and then softened into something akin to a great sadness. “A pyrrhic victory is when the cost of the victory is so great, it can be reasonably be called a defeat.”

Hana swallowed hard as another layer was peeled back and once again Nathan was revealed to be correct.

“Do you think the fight against dragons is unwinnable?” she asked.

“It’s not about winning or not winning.” Schneider said. “It’s about survival. If we don’t fight against the dragons, it will simply mean the certain end of all human society. If it is impossible, as he says, then I can understand why he would rather have no part of it. But I don’t share his hopelessness. I believe we can win. And even if it comes at the great cost of many lives, if it means the future of mankind, it will have been worth it.”

-------

Toyama returned to the room and shooed away the two disciplinary committee members. Once they were gone he said. “Your expulsion has been canceled.” 

Nathan let out a short laugh, sadness filling him. Hana must have talked. He supposed he couldn’t expect Hana to sacrifice herself for him. They hardly knew each other after all. “Oh really? Are they changing my rank too?”

“No one has said anything about that. To change your rank you will need to retake the 3E. Are you still going to drop out?”

“Yeah. Go ahead and do it. Sign whatever paperwork. Go ahead. I’m ready.”

“Now why are you upset?”

Nathan turned his head away. “I’m not.”

“You are. You were happy to leave at first. Now that I’m letting you go, you look terribly sad. Close to tears even”

“I’m sad because I don’t have any weed. Once I’m out of here, just make sure to stash my marijuana in my backpack. I’ll smoke and feel alright.”

Toyama paused to give him one more chance to think of a way out and when nothing was forthcoming, he unstrapped Nathan from the chair, unbuckling the restraints. “You said Jason Bourne? There were a few more pleasant scenarios in there. The last one was a artist running from the dictator in Korea.”

“I have no artistic talent. I was just spitballing.”

“Witness protection program?”

“Seems to require a lot of staff.” Nathan massaged his wrists.

“Plane crash coma victim?”

“Make it car crash and I think we have a winner.”

“Alright.”

A knock at the door surprised both of them. Toyama went to answer it. “You are just in time. We were about to start.”

“Hana?” Nathan was surprised, delighted and then wary to see his soon to be former fellow student. “What are you doing here? Here to say goodbye after ratting me out?”

Hana stood taller than Toyama. Her face was serene when she looked at him. “No.” She said. “I’m leaving too.”

------

Hana sighed. Her mind was a jumbled mix of thoughts. Her first question was where am I? Nothing came to mind for a split second, only for the thought to pop up unbidden.

She was at Cassell. Cassell... how did she get here?

Another brief silence from her mind and then an image appeared unbidden. She had been on an escort assignment. Everything seemed normal until they were on their way back and got T-boned by someone who red light. She didn’t remember anything after that.

She opened her eyes to the white hospital room.

Toyama was sitting next to her bed. “How are you feeling, Hana?”

“I’m fine... Nathan... Where’s Nathan?” She sat up and was suddenly assaulted by dizziness.

“Nathan is fine.” Toyama said, reaching out to steady her. “He’s where he usually is. You remember right?”

She smiled gently. “Yes. I remember. On the bench... smoking.”