#like the drop in listening time and variety is staggering

[thatwitchrevan]

more than ever the only thing Spotify wrapped has to tell me is how relatively little I've used Spotify for music this year.

[andswarwrites]

Part of self care is caring for others.

Part of self care is caring for others.  If we make that little effort to show kindness, courtesy, generosity, hospitality, warmth: the resulting inner glow will reassure us that we have a reason to feel dignity and self-love.  We don't care for others with reciprocity as our aim, although a kind word often begets one in turn; if we compliment someone, chances are they will feel moved to tell us something they appreciate about us as well.  When we naturally, effortlessly show consideration to anyone we happen to meet, that is a key to caring for ourselves, because we are not basing our manners on how others treat us, rather we are taking the initiative, the first step, and when we do so we start to notice how we are brightening up the days and moments we share with others.

Forcing a smile isn't as effective as giving thought to an idea that might make us genuinely smile.  Just that smile that lights up our eyes gets an immediate response.  It might be a courier dropping off a delivery, it might be a cashier at a store, it might be a family member who needs a listening ear, it might be a friend who is having a rough time.  Letting our eyes speak as we speak, showing anyone that we care about their well-being, that will boost, not our ego, but our morale.  As I mentioned, there is an inner glow that comes from showing empathy, and it can be exhilarating.  We have to tread with caution, however, because it can sap strength to always be the one who is there for others.  Just like a caregiver needs someone to take care of them as well or they wear out, we need to be aware of our capacities and our boundaries.

The great thing about that capacity is that it just keeps growing.  Just like exponential growth and staggering multiplication, the more we show our love for other people, the more their response strengthens us and we feel moved to keep on.  Even the simplest gesture can make someone else's day, but also ours.  Egotism saps our strength a lot more than being aware of the needs of others.  On the other hand, we do need those boundaries that we naturally build up but so many of us feel shy about defending.  So many children are taught that their will is negated by their youth, not even taught that they have freedom of choice, just like everyone else, that they grow up to feel powerless or they react by taking on the entire world in their frustration.

In so many aspects of life, finding balance seems to be a recurring theme.  When I volunteered in an elementary school library, I observed the kids of all different ages who would come in to browse the shelves and take out a book or two.  I thought it was fun to see the independent, the self assured, the awkward, the chatty, the shy, the charismatic, the thoughtful, the cheerful.  I think my time in observation mode, waiting for those kids to check out their books, taught me to watch for the endless variety of personalities all around me, and I think I'm still the librarian, bestowing on strangers an encouraging smile, wanting to make a connection with this human being and let them take something out from the exchange, which will cost them nothing nor I, and in this case we're not talking about a book, we're just talking about a brief glimpse of kindness.

[crystalelemental]

Continuing from yesterday's regional attempts, we're on to Galar. Fun fact, I wanted to do Kanto, but having looked at Kanto...guys, I don't know if I'm able to do Kanto. I know the rats exist, but outside of those, Kanto might be the worst region right now. I cannot believe what I'm about to say, but...more Kanto stuff may be justifiable. So long as it's not Red. Ideally not Blue either. I know he's popular and should hit 6 alts, but he's one of the Big Two for genwunners and I want them to be unhappy.

Vs. Sidney Sidney is Flying weak, and at first I was like damn, there's no one with good Flying damage. Before remembering Leon. Who, until Summer Liza, was the best Flying-type DPS. So yeah, good game, Sidney. I looked at his tips, because I couldn't figure out why he felt so difficult, and it turns out it's because he has damage reduction if he's not trapped or something? Neat. Anyway, here's Anni Raihan. H!Allister probably seems like an unusual choice, but my reasoning was that Allister immediately caps crit, and can boost special attack each time he attacks, complementing Leon effectively. It worked out overall.

Vs. Glacia Neo Champion Hop is only 1/5 on my account. I know, but listen, I didn't have enough to 3/5 all of them, and Hop/Zapdos was the least favorite. That said, his DPS is still stupid good. Easily pulls off denials, okay-ish sync, but he did need to dodge a side Blizzard to avoid death.

Vs. Phoebe Neo Champion Marnie. I could've brought nothing and won. Instead, I brought Melony, who can sleep chain center and provide an EX buff that just lets Marnie explode the sides. Lodge Gloria is here to support Marnie. Not in battle, just like emotional support.

Vs. Drake I legitimately tried with Winter Nessa, but being only 2/5 and generally poor on sync meant she could not get it done. Instead, we off-type with 4/5 Gloria, who is able to set up early sync on the foe to just explode their souls from their bodies. This was a lot harder than it seemed, mostly because of Earthquake spam post-sync being really threatening to Gloria.

Vs. Steven UUUUGH. Okay, I know she's not EX, but Nessa kinda sucks, huh? I initially tried with Gordie, expecting speed drops to help, but it's really not doing much. So I went with SC Sonia. "But the gauges..." Yeah it was really bad. Thankfully, Twofer exists, and NC Bede is able to generate plenty of free actions, so it wasn't too awful? Really the main problem was getting Nessa to quad queue to finish off Steven, since she would guaranteed die to any sync, which is staggering because isn't Dreadnaw supposed to be decently bulky on the physical end? But I guess not, since it died. Every time.

Overall Impressions Galar isn't too bad, but is very hard carried by its Master Fairs and Sonia. Without these traits, it would be a very rough time. Yes, even in the P!Marnie/Gloria one, where Hop wouldn't generate enough defense to really keep them alive. Galar has exceptionally strong pairs, and then pairs that feel like ass.

The bigger issue with Galar, as far as I can see it, is lack of cohesion. A lot of regions feel like their tools go together well, and are achieving some sort of synergy? Galar doesn't. Like, offensively, a lot of them are powerhouses with poor gauge management. By support, they all do crit, but either Atk/crit, or just crit with some bulk and a gimmick of varying utility. Very little directly supports other tools. NC Marnie doesn't really have anyone but NC Hop to debuff special defense in the region. Leon really doesn't have a good sp atk/crit buffing ally to assist his self-setup. Dojo Gloria is like the only glue holding Nessa together.

I think the major problem here really is that so much of the region is limited. There just aren't a ton of options to work with in Galar, and a lot of it feels disconnected. Even their Lodge units don't really offer a ton of variety. I dunno, man. Galar just feels weird. It's not as painful as Alola was, but it's awkward.

[cellard0ors]

Fic: Movement (1/?)

This is dedicated to @peachworthy - my plan is to work on this when I can. I was going to try and write a full long thing (all puns intended) but thought it might be fun to just do sporadic bits instead!

“As you can see, it’s a pretty nice place…” Mr. Super Tall and Super Handsome and Super-Out-of-Link’s-League tells him as he walks him around the place. Link’s only been half listening because he’s been trailing behind this uniquely sexy giraffe of a man for about half an hour now and it’s been hard to not just…eat him up with his eyes.

Link’s lived in LA for about two years now and while he’s seen some attractive people, they all pale in comparison to…

…oh gosh, he’s forgotten his name again! Not a good thing to do when being toured by your potential roommate to be. Although Link’s pretty sure his current tour guide is just being nice.

No way he’s seriously considering letting Link move in. First of all, Link is a late in life college student trying to get a film degree. Second, this guy could have anyone live with him.

Anyone.

The fact he even needs a roommate is staggering. After all, this place is already furnished. It’s clear he’s lived here for a while now – so the need for someone else-? Link doesn’t get it.

But he sure as heck can’t stay on campus anymore. It’s embarrassing. Most of the other students there think he’s a professor as it is; and bunking with kids half his age has been a nightmare.

Not because he can’t identify with them per say, but because he just-? He wants to interact with people on the same wavelength as him.

And no way is this Greek God and he on the same wavelength. No doubt the guy’s an actor. Almost everyone in LA is. And, no doubt, the guy has probably had some gigs. Several, if the house is anything to go by…

Maybe he lost a role recently? Maybe that’s why he needs the extra income? It’s the only thing Link can think of and he’s stupid enough to voice that, “It is a nice place, man, but I don’t see how I’ll be much help. What you’ve got here looks pretty well lived in. Take it you’ve been here solo for some time and I’m not sure how-?”

“I have,” Handsome admits and oh, that southern drawl. It makes Link think of home. How perfect can one man be? “And, frankly, I don’t need a roommate, but I’d like a roommate.”

“For parts? Like the Black Market?” Link can’t help but joke, and the guy throws his head back and laughs and oh, no…

…Yeah, Link can’t live with this man. It hasn’t even been a full day and Link is practically already in love with him. And thinking of the ‘him’ he forces himself to sheepishly ask, “Um, I, ah, forgot your name again...”

“It’s Rhett.”

Of course it is.

Rhett is such a romantic name.

Rhett Butler immediately springs to mind and Link sighs, “Look, Rhett – like I said, it is a nice place, but-!”

“I tell you what I’d expect in rent?” he asks and when he lists the price, Link decides that – besides being insanely attractive – that the guy is just insane in general.

The rent is cheap. Far, far cheaper than Link expected and it must show on his face, because Rhett shrugs, “Look, Link – I can’t say what it is, but I gotta feeling about you. I’ve met with a couple of potential roommates and, honestly, none of them have gone this far. I haven’t let ‘em. But there’s something about you…”

“My natural charm?” Link asks, but he’s sort of giggly and weird when he does and oh, gosh – why is he so awkward? Isn’t he too old for this? Don’t you reach a certain age and awkwardness just…drops off?

But apparently not and, apparently, Rhett isn’t turned off by it, because he gives him a warm grin, “Might be.”

“Rhett…”

“Might be the accent to be honest,” he confesses, seeming almost shy and that should be illegal, because it just highlights how cute he is, “I’m from North Carolina and it just-!”

“Hey!” Link perks up, “Me too!”

“Really?” Rhett gushes and Link nods, “Yeah, Buies Creek.”

“Oh! My family and I almost moved there! Ended up in Charlotte instead!”

“Wow! Crazy! What are the odds!” And Link hates every cliched thing coming out of his mouth right now, but he can’t seem to stop and Rhett just looks so damned pleased.

As if his feeling about Link is right on the money and Link wishes it was, but this can’t possibly work. Can it? And just as Link is about to voice that, Rhett suddenly looks…apprehensive. Fidgety.

And Link’s caught a bit off guard by it, because – up until now – he’s been so cool. Cool and collected. But now Rhett runs a hand through his thick mane of hair and sighs as if a great weight is upon him, “Ah…actually, I, ah, well – I forgot…”

Here it is. Link’s been waiting for this. The big secret. The big reason someone as amazing as Rhett would need someone like him. Maybe it is the Black Market thing. Link has some nice organs. Real juicy. Maybe revealing his background has made the big guy feel bad – like he can’t carve up a fellow North Caroliner.

Rhett rocks on his heels, “I told you, none of the other potential roommates made it this far and…there’s a reason for that. Even the one or two I kinda considered…well, I, um, I told them what I do for a living and that’s when things sort of fell apart…”

…oh shit. He IS a Black Market organ dealer!

Link’s Adam’s apple bobs as he looks around skittishly. The house is big and they’re alone in it. He’s been so distracted by how hot Rhett is that he hasn't even thought about that fact.

Until now.

What if the other potentials didn’t get this far because they got cut up beforehand? Maybe the whole roommate thing is a farce! Maybe it’s a con! A con to draw people in and-!

“I work in the entertainment industry.”

Link blinks. Blinks and feels like the dumbest man on planet earth as he says, “Well, yeah. You and half of LA. Heck, I’m here trying to get into film myself! Do some directing or sound editing or-!”

“No,” Rhett says firmly, smoothly, meeting Link’s eyes head on as he says in a full deep register, “When I say I work in the industry, I mean it. I’ve, um, had a pretty healthy and…and long career…”

“Really?” Link asks, eyes wide behind his glasses, “Have I seen anything you’ve-?”

“Doubt it,” Rhett interrupts with a humorless huff, “You don’t seem the type. But then,” he eyes him thoughtfully, “I’ve been surprised before…”

Link doesn’t know why he’s being so cagey about this, “What’ve you-?”

“My resume is…” Rhett finally looks away, as if he can’t bear to look at Link when he says it, “…of the adult variety.”

“The adult-?” Link starts to repeat and then it clicks. It clicks and it hits him so hard over the head it’s like a physical blow. The house, the handsomeness – the…everything.

Rhett looks back at him, jaw firmly set as he speaks, “Look, it’s not that I’m ashamed of what I do. Far from it. It’s just a job and it’s one I happen to be good at. But it’s also one that people in polite society aren’t too keen on and considering you’re from my home state you might-!”

“Porn?” Link croaks out and he feels a little like he might faint, “You’re a porn star?”

Rhett just kind of shrugs and the reason Link feels lightheaded has nothing to do with his shock at the man’s career and everything to do with the fact that Link has only seen a few porn films and none of them have ever stared someone so breathtakingly beautiful. The idea that Rhett has been in something like that…

Heat suffuses through Link’s system with equal mixes of lust and shame. Lust because, well, look at Rhett and shame because Link doesn’t want to just view the man as a sex object, Granted, that’s kind of his job, but it just seems…rude.

While Link doesn’t know Rhett well, he knows him well enough at this point to say he’s just a regular guy. An extremely gorgeous regular guy, but a regular guy all the same.

Thinking of him in simple black and white just doesn’t do him justice. So he’s a porn star. So what? He’s nice and this place is amazing and the rent suggested is fantastic and-!

“Take it by your silence you’re gonna decline…”

“No!” Link cuts in quickly and Rhett’s eyes shoot to him, wide and amazed, and Link feels a little sense of superiority at that. At catching this giant off guard, “No, uh – your…your profession isn’t a problem.”

“It’s not?”

“Well, I mean,” Link looks around once more, "You don’t-? You don’t film here, do you?”

The laugh that booms out of Rhett at that makes Link’s toes curl with pleasure, “Nah, man. This place is sacred. Like to keep my personal and professional life separate.”

“And…” Link scratches at the back of his head, “And you won’t, like…bring over a-a partner or partners and-!”

“Don’t have one,” Rhett admits and then the sexiest crinkles form around his eyes, “Although I gotta say, that’s about the slickest way anyone’s ever asked me if I was single…”

The heat from before returns full blast, no doubt coloring Link’s cheeks pure red and it comes completely from shyness, an emotion he is much more familiar with than most, “Oh, no! I-I wasn’t-!”

“Think you were asking if I do some weird sex shit here in the house of the personal variety and, again, no. You work in my field you kinda lose a bit of a taste for it.”

“For sex?”

Rhett nods, “And for a lot of things. It’s like I said – I'd like a roommate. Mainly ‘cause I’ve been feeling a little…disconnected of late. Feel like I need someone in my life who isn’t in the business. Someone I can just, y’know…” his shoulders roll and he bobs about a bit, clearly bashful, “…jam with.”

“Someone on your wavelength…” Link whispers and suddenly, Rhett’s idea that Link might be someone worth keeping around feels totally legitimate. Because Link is suddenly reciprocating it and then some. Because Link's starting to have a feeling about him too.

A feeling that this could work.

It really could.

And, this in mind, Link asks, “When can I move in?”

[whumpwriterforlife]

Febuwhump 2022, "Let me see" - Summary

Prompto gets hurt at school and tries to keep it a secret. Unfortunately for him, it doesn't work out.

Read below the cut

It’s the first time Prompto came home with a bloody nose and a variety of bruises all over his body. He dropped his backpack at the door, kicked off his shoes, and listened. The driveway was empty, both of the cars gone, but that didn’t mean there was no one else at home. The last thing Prompto wanted now was to run into one of his parents or worse — Aranea.

The house stayed silent though, and Prompto breathed a sigh of relief. He discarded his jacket on the bench and rushed up the stairs into the laundry room. He stripped off his blood-speckled school uniform and stuffed it into the washing machine with what was most likely too much detergent and randomly chose a program to start. With that out of the way, Prompto felt like he could breathe a little easier. Now he would only have to clean himself up and make sure no one saw the scrapes or bruises.

Grabbing a clean towel from the shelf, Prompto walked across the hall into the bathroom, where he was greeted with a reflection of himself in the mirror. He flinched, a wounded noise leaving his lip. His nose was red and swollen, dried blood covering most of the bottom half of his face. It was no wonder people had given him horrified looks when he had walked home. There were dark splotches all over his chest and a few on his shoulders, a testament to the beating he had taken.

Prompto closed his eyes with a sigh, and threw the towel into the sink. The shower wouldn’t wash away those no matter what. He kicked off his underwear with a sigh and dropped them into the laundry basket before turning on the shower and stepping under the spray. A hiss left his lips as the cold water hit his skin and caused him to shiver. He adjusted the heat, turning the water as hot as it went, and slowly relaxed as the hot water started working on his sore, battered body.

He lost track of time as he stood there and let the water run over him. He didn’t want to move. It was comfortable. Warm. Safe.

There was a knock on the bathroom door.

Prompto yelped, scrambling to turn off the water and reach for the towel. At least he had locked the door.

“Hey, Prom, you okay in there?” Nyx called out. There was a hint of worry in his voice.

“I’m fine!” Prompto squeaked. “Just fine!”

“Are you sure? I was told you skipped your last class. Are you feeling ill?”

Prompto made a face as he wrapped the towel around himself. “I’m fine! My head just hurt, but I feel okay now!”

“Okay,” Nyx responded. “Do you need a painkiller, or a snack maybe? I can whip you up a sandwich if you want.”

“No, I’m good! I’ll just, uh, rest — yeah, I’ll take a nap. You don’t need to worry.”

There was a pause before Nyx responded. “Alright, let me know if you need anything.”

“I will!” Prompto told him. A few tense moments later he finally heard footsteps retreating down the hall. His shoulders sagged, and he ran his fingers through his damp hair. Astrals. That had been close.

After waiting a little longer, he cracked the door open, peering down the hall for any signs of Nyx. There weren’t any. Prompto sighed in relief. He left the bathroom, intent on rushing into his room to make sure he wouldn’t be seen, but the moment he shoved the door shut behind him, he saw Nyx waiting on the other side of it.

An embarrassing squak burst from Prompto’s lips as he flailed and staggered back. “Dad!”

Nyx’s face was serious, arms across his chest as he eyed him from head to toe. Prompto instantly felt guilty, and crossed his own arms to hide the damage.

“It—it’s not as bad as it looks!” he exclaimed. “I promise!”

Nyx’s expression twisted into concern as he crossed the gap between them and gently tilted Prompto’s head back to inspect his nose. “Don’t lie to me, Sunshine, Noctis told me everything already.”

“I couldn’t not do anything,” Prompto mumbled, wincing as Nyx probed his nose. He pushed Nyx’s hand away. “They were going to hurt him!”

“I know, he told me everything. I’m not mad, and neither is Cor,” Nyx told him softly. “Go get some clothes on, except leave the shirt off. I’m going to get the first-aid kit, okay?”

“Dad,” Prompto whined. “I’m fine!”

Nyx sighed. “This is not up for debate, Sunshine. The other option is that we wait for Cor to get home and head to the doctor’s.”

Prompto put his head down. “Yeah, okay. I’ll meet you downstairs?”

Nyx nodded. He leaned down to press a kiss onto his forehead, to ruffle his hair before he left to go fetch the first-aid kit. Prompto licked his lips, still feeling guilty. He hadn’t meant to worry his parents. He headed into his room with a sigh.

Five minutes later he was sitting on the sofa in the living room, eyeing the first-aid kit with distrust. He wasn’t sure what Nyx meant to do with it, considering he didn’t really have any open wounds or anything. Still, he would much rather let Nyx check him than go to the hospital.

“Alright,” Nyx said as he sat on a stool in front of Prompto. “I’m going to check your nose first, just to make sure it isn’t broken. Then we’ll get you some ice on it and check those bruises, okay?”

Prompto nodded a bit hesitantly. He knew Nyx would never hurt him intentionally, but he knew this was going to hurt a bit at least. “Okay.”

Nyx gave him a reassuring smile. “Then we can get that Galahdan takeout you like, maybe even some of that good ice cream too.”

Prompto smiled. “Really?”

“Yeah, why not?” Nyx said with a shrug, his smile never fading. “Okay, let me see.”

He scooted closer on the stool, and Prompto couldn’t help but tense up in anticipation. Nyx made sure to work fast though. Prompto barely had time to even feel the pain before Nyx told him his nose wasn’t broken and handed him an instant cold pack for it. The cold felt really good, chasing away the worst of the pain and leaving his nose almost numb.

The bruises took a little longer with Nyx checking if he had any broken ribs but fortunately it didn’t look like that. Because of it, the pain wasn’t too bad then either. Only the bruise on his shoulder made him jump and whimper, but Nyx was convinced it was only muscle soreness and nothing broken. After that, the examination was over much to Prompto’s relief, and he got to put his shirt on.

“Here,” Nyx said as he handed him a few painkillers with water. “Take those.”

“Thanks.” Prompto downed them in one go before slouching against the backrest and pulling a decorative pillow into his arms. “Are we done now?”

“Not just yet,” Nyx shook his head. An uneasy feeling spread through Prompto. “I would like to know why you didn’t tell any of us about what happened.”

Prompto whined and lifted his feet onto the sofa. “It wasn’t a big deal, I didn’t want you to worry!”

Nyx frowned. “Prom, you were violently attacked, that is a big deal. It shouldn’t have happened.”

“I mean, you and Cor get hurt all the time, too, and you never complain.”

“Prom,” Nyx sighed. Prompto thought there was a sad undertone to his voice, but it was so fast he wasn’t sure. “Cor and me — our job is dangerous and injuries come with the territory. School is supposed to be safe, there should be no threat of violence there.”

“But—”

“And everytime one of us gets hurt, we get checked and treated by medical personnel. If we hadn’t found out, and you had been hurt worse, this could have ended badly,” Nyx explained, leaning forward to put a hand on Prompto’s knee. “And, yes, we don’t usually mention our injuries around you, because we don’t want to worry you.”

Nyx held up his other hand when Prompto opened his mouth.

“It’s different when we don’t tell you. You’re very mature for your age, but you’re still a child. A child shouldn’t have to bear concern over his parents. However, it is Cor and my job to worry about you. I don’t expect you to understand that now, but it’s true.”

Prompto put his head down. “I’m sorry.”

Nyx shushed him softly and moved to sit on the sofa to pull Prompto to his side with an arm over his shoulders. “It’s okay. You’re okay and that’s all that counts. Just please let us know in the future if something like this happens again.”

Prompto pressed his face against the soft fabric of Nyx’s hoodie and nodded. “What’s going to happen to the guys?”

Nyx huffed and a highly pleased smile spread across his face. “You don’t need to worry about them anymore. Cor and the King have it under control.”

“The King?” Prompto squeaked.

Nyx nodded. “I know you think me and Cor can be overprotective at times, but you have never seen what the King is capable of. You just don’t threaten his son and honorary nephew and get away with it.”

“I don’t think I would want to see those two scheming against me,” Prompto said and chewed on his lip. “That sounds terrifying.”

“Exactly.” Nyx grinned. “So you won’t have to worry about them anymore, they’ll likely get expelled at the least.”

Prompto snuggled closer to Nyx’s side. He always felt the safest like this. They were silent for some time, and Prompto’s eyes started fluttering shut. He didn’t want to fall asleep though. “Can we just order the food here?”

Nyx chuckled. “Yeah, I think we can do that. You want extra spices?”

“No, I’m not you,” Prompto made a face. “Just the normal is good. I still want ice cream, too, you promised.”

“And we’ll get that,” Nyx ruffled his hair as he sat up to reach for his phone. Prompto whined and tugged Nyx back so he could lean on him again. He made a much softer and better pillow than the stupid decorative pillow. Nyx laughed, and put his arm back around him to play with his hair. “You know, you can nap if you want.”

“No.”

“Right,” Nyx said with a badly concealed smile. “No napping then. How about a movie?”

“I get to choose?”

“You get to choose.”

Prompto grinned and left his spot for long enough to fetch the TV remote. “Do we have any popcorn?”

“Don’t push it, Sunshine,” Nyx warned him playfully. “The food will get here within an hour.”

“Fine,” Prompto muttered.

[imagine-this-fandom]

BNHA X Fem!Reader: The Rescue - Angry Pomeranian

The Rescue intro: Here

She gently placed Izuku into a glass cage before pulling you to a back door labeled "Dogs", the Golden retriever slipping in behind you before you closed the door.

Upon entering, you were greeted by lots of barking, the dogs obviously not using their indoor voices. You actually surprised by the variety back here. There was a husky, Pitbull, and even a German Shepard. The room was rather large and open for them to interact with potential owners, various dog toys strewn across the floor with the dog kennels to the back.

You expected Inko to take you to meet the bigger dogs, but were confused when she led you past them, instead stopping in front of a small tan puff ball in a corner who was absolutely destroying a dog toy, the smiling sun that used to adorn the front of it, now flopped over on a shred of fabric by your feet. It almost looked like a blizzard of its own had happened in the corner due to all the stuffing scattered around.

"Oh Bakugou, what have you gotten your paws on this time?"

Inko clicked her tongue and watched the Pomeranian pup continue to tear the stuffing out of a smiling sun patterned toy.

The sight made you a bit more hesitant. Was this really the dog she had in mind for you? An absolutely furious little ball of fluff?

He didn't seem to pay you any attention, content to work growl and tear into the toy until Inko reached down and picked him up, which sent him into a frenzied wiggle fit. He began to whine in outrage, upset seemingly with the audacity of Inko picking him up.

"Come now Bakugou, you need to behave! There's someone here to see you." She was all smiles and started to pet his head, the angry noises emitting from the dog lessening as he calmed down a fraction.

"Mrs. Midoriya, are you sure he's the right dog for me? He doesn't seem to like me very much..."

You eyed the dog hesitantly. While he was undeniably adorable, you were worried he wouldn't like you even after you started to take care of him.

"I think he just needs time to get to know you! He's a sweetheart once he's settled, even though he doesn't show it often. Really, he could do with someone like you in his life. From talking to you, I can tell you'll be perfect for the little scamp."

The dog had stopped wiggling and seemed to be assessing the situation. If you didn't know any better, you'd say it looked like he was listening.

You bit you lip and looked him over, weighing the options you had. Sure he'd be a handful, but... could you really say no to that face?. If what she said was true, maybe he just needed someone to be there for him. And you found that you really wanted to be that someone. Besides, pets have personalities too. Even if he was grumpy, you could love him regardless

Smiling, you nodded.

"I'll take him. "

Getting Bakugou to go home with you on a leash was an experience to say the least. He tugged like mad and actually tried to break the leash, biting and trying to rip it away. That didn't go all that well for him once he got outside though. The snowdrifts were as big as he was!

Laughing, you discovered that you would have to pick him up to continue home, seeing as you wouldn't get very far if you had to keep fishing him out of the deep snow. He was bound and determined, but you could tell he was getting annoyed with the cold piles.

He was the angriest creature you had ever seen in your life. If a snowflake came too close, he would snap at it and bark at every stray animal or movement he saw. You just shook my head with amusement. His temperament, while not ideal for most people, was starting to grow on you.

It was a relief to finally get back to your apartment and put him down. You let him roam the house and explore, getting used to his new environment as you set up the supplies you got from the store. You had gotten him some cool food and water dishes with flames designs on the outside. After finishing that up, you moved to your bedroom to place the dog bed that you had purchased for him. He had beaten you to your room though, which you discovered as you chanced a glance at your bed while arranging the small pet bed in the corner. Bakugou had already made himself at home on your bed. His ashy blonde fur standing out on the comforter as his crimson eyes followed your movements from his newly acquired high ground.

"Silly boy, that's my spot! You have a bed down here!"

His eyes narrowed as he took up a more defensive position.

"Down, Bakugou. Off the bed. Did you just growl at me?!"

Well... He did not look like he intended to move any time soon. While you were all for learning to deal with him, you were definitely not in the mood for dealing with a doggy temper tantrum. You conceded him this point, for now and left to prepare for bed.

You left and took a quick shower before slipping into some (f/c) pajamas. Stepping out into the bedroom, you stopped and snapped a quick photo. Bakugou had settled down on the bed and was sleeping. This was the most peaceful you had seen him so far.

Rather than risk picking him up and waking the angry mutt up, you instead shifted him slightly to the side and climbed under the covers on the other half of the bed. He looked up at you at the contact , obviously annoyed by being roused from his sleep, but not mad enough to do anything about it except give an angry huff and shift so his back was facing you. You smiled and cautiously reached out a hand to stroke his back. He seemed to stiffen up for a moment, but, he seemed too tired to really care, so you took it as the go ahead to continue. You pet him for a bit before reaching up and scratching behind his ears. He tensed again before melting against your touch, leaning into it. You carefully retracted your hand and yawned before turning the lights off, smiling at the silvery fur across from you in the moonlight.

"Goodnight Bakugou, sleep well, my little spitfire."

Progress was being made, and for that, you happy. You fell asleep with a content expression, optimistic for the days to come.

Bakugou was absolutely a handful. After that first night, he made it his mission to test you. Whether it was by breaking something while you were at work, or simply refusing to cooperate when on walks, he made it his mission to act out when anything slightly inconvenienced him. Spitfire was an apt name, considering how spirited he was, especially on walks. He'd become the local terror of the neighborhood. Regardless of his size, he was ferocious. Even some of the larger dogs were intimidated by him! He didn't allow any other creature to push him around, humans included.

Even with his resistance you continued to work with him, trying to find ways to calm him down. You wanted him to like you, to trust you. You started by working on your own reactions whenever something happened that set him off. Instead of getting upset at him, you got down to his level and spoke quietly, getting him to focus on you instead of whatever had triggered his outrage. He still had his outbursts, but they were slowly getting better.

He was still very particular about contact though, only really letting you pet him when he was tired, when his weariness outweighed his outrage. This led to a nightly routine of pets before both of you fell asleep. This would change though.

One night, after a particularly bad day of work, you stumbled in exhausted. You were absolutely dead on your feet as you dragged your tired body inside your apartment. Kicking off your shoes, you decided to forgo your usual yelled greeting to your dog and instead staggered into the living room and collapsed face first on the couch, muscles screaming from the stress of the day. You just stayed like that for a good five minutes before hearing the jangle of a dog collar headed your way.

Bakugou stopped in front of the couch and growled at you impatiently, seeming to not like this break in his routine. You really didn't have the energy to deal with his nonsense so you simply let your arm drop off the side, offering him your hand. This didn't appease him though, as he instead took the edge of your sleeve in his teeth and tried to tug you off the couch.

You shifted, turning your head so I could see him and hopefully stop his determined tugs.

"Bakugou, please. I can't right now, okay? We'll play tomorrow. Just... not tonight. I'm not doing well."

You expected some kind of backlash, maybe him barking his head off, or maybe he would go destroy something out of spite. What you got instead, was a lick on the back of your hand, and a fluffy head pushing against your side, urging you to make some room on the couch for him. Tiredly, you obliged, rolling onto your back so your tired gaze was now directed at the ceiling. Your brief view of the apartment ceiling was interrupted by a fluffy blonde head glaring down at you with red eyes. Bakugou had settled himself on your chest, paws resting just below your chin.

"Can I help you sir?"

He huffed, hot breath warming your chin and chest as he relaxed and laid his head on his paws, almost daring you to move and disturb him.

You smiled and pet his head, making sure to scratch him behind the ears. He never made it obvious, but he loved it when you pet his head. He just kind of melted, muscles going relaxed with his eyes drooping in happiness. You stayed like this for at least another hour before falling asleep, arm lazily thrown over the content pup. You were surprised to discover you slept the best you had in ages that night. Something about Bakugou being there to protect you just made relaxing so much easier. While he was small, he was fierce and wouldn't let anything happen to you under his watch.

After that night, Bakugou seemed to calm down a little. He was still your little spitfire, but he didn't shy away from your touch. If anything, he sought it out. He still got into loads of trouble and had gotten on your last nerve more times than you could count. But now he seemed more interested in you. He got upset when you didn't greet him when you came home and always made sure to stay in your vicinity when you were at home. He seemed protective of you now, and you couldn't help but love it. He let you cuddle him more too. Often, you began to invite him up on the couch next to you during movies, which quickly turned into an hour every day with Bakugou on your lap as you pet him and watched a show or movie. As this happened, you noticed he favored old hero footage, especially of Allmight. He went wild whenever the symbol of peace was shown on the screen.

"I can see why you like him, he's one of my favorite heroes too. Always there when people need him."

You smiled, petting the excited dog's head. Pleased to see his little tail going nuts.

"But who needs Allmight when I've got you around Bakugou? My brave little Hero! You're always here for me. Getting you was one of the best decisions of my life."

The dog seemed to stiffen, but you didn't pay him much mind, figuring he was just focused on the action playing on the screen. Although you noticed he was quiet for the rest of the evening. He was reserved and honestly, you were starting to get a little bit worried. You decided that you'd just take him to the park the next day, maybe that would cheer him up.

The next day, you stuck to your plan, waking up early to work on housework and make sure you had finished all your tasks for the day and could take Bakugou for a nice long romp at the park.

You were working in the kitchen when he made his way out to you after waking up, his claws clicking on the tile and letting you know he was coming.

"Hey spitfire, did you have a good sleep?" You grinned and looked down at the fluffy dog who was watching you quietly. You knelt from your spot at the stove and held up a piece of bacon you had saved from breakfast.

"Figured my good boy deserved a treat. This is for now, and then once I finish cleaning up, we're going to the park."

Your words seemed to excite him as he snatched the bacon and his tail went wild. You smiled and pet him before getting back to work on the kitchen, looking forward to taking a break and spending time outside with your little spitfire.

Once you were outside, Bakugou seemed to go back to his normal angry self. He trotted ahead of you as you walked, seeming to exude an aura of intimidation when it came to the other dogs. You knew he wouldn't approve if you said it aloud, but you thought it was adorable. You relaxed as you walked through the city, slowly finding your way to a vast park that Bakugou seemed to like. It had lots of room to run, but you didn't let him off leash often. While you trusted him, sometimes he couldn't help himself and would pick a fight with anyone he felt threatened by. This led to some close calls that made you decide he wouldn't be allowed off leash anytime soon.

Crossing the threshold onto the green grass, you gave a happy sigh, enjoying the change from pavement to grass. You were quickly drawn away from your peaceful moment as a dog came charging at you and Bakugou. A chihuahua that was off its leash was making a beeline for you and Bakugou was not having it for a second. He braced himself in front of you and gave a warning growl as a deterrent. The little dog was either deaf or stupid and you were not excited to see which as his attention was focused on Bakugou.

He got just a little too close before Bakugou lunged forward and gave him a warning nip on the leg. When the little dog did not back down, you had to make a split decision and scooped up your dog and ran the opposite way. You found shelter on a bench, just out of reach of the vicious little monster snapping at your feet to get at the outraged Pomeranian in your arms. Your little spitfire did not take kindly to anyone threatening him, but you weren't about to let the small dog take a chance to retaliate for the bite. After a few tense moments where you tried to work out a plan that didn't involve punting the attacking dog, its owner ran up, red faced and not in a good mood. Instead of immediately fetching her dog, she took one look at the situation and exploded on you instead.

"DID YOUR DOG BITE MY COCO?!"

You were stunned into silence for a moment, not able to process the audacity of the question directed at you from this angry middle aged woman.

"Yes, but it was in self defense! Your dog was coming right for him!" You protested, hoping an explanation would somehow help the woman's anger to subside. But unfortunately, she did not accept that her dog was the one to blame. She scooped up the still writhing devil dog and glared at Bakugou.

"That thing is a menace! You should but a muzzle on him! What if he had bitten a child?" She stared with unwarranted venom, her blunt and misfounded words thrown carelessly at you like daggers.

You didn't notice right away, but Bakugou had gone still at the mention of a muzzle, the word seeming to trigger something within him.

As the woman Walked away, you slid down to sit on the bench, taking a moment to collect yourself and recover from the emotionally draining encounter. When you looked down at Bakugou again it was because he was struggling in your arms.

"Hey bud, it's okay, they're gone now."

These words which you had meant for comfort only made him struggle more.

"Okay, okay! Sorry, I'll put you down."

You carefully set him on the ground but were taken by surprise when he started to sprint away. You gasped and took off after him, chasing after the leash he was trailing behind him as he made his escape.

"Bakugou! Get back here!"

While you were doing your best to keep up, he was doing his best to dodge you. He was ducking under bushes and darting around obstacles as he made his getaway. eventually, you ran out of steam and had to stop, breathing heavily as you tried to get some air back into your lungs. When you were finally able to breathe without black spots invading, Bakugou was nowhere in sight.

You were in panic, barely barely able to really process that he was gone. You quickly started walking again, cupping your hands around your mouth as you called for him. How could he have just run away? Something must have happened, he wouldn't have just left you, right? You just had to keep looking. You'd find him. You had to.

You searched until your throat was hoarse, long ago abandoning the park and now roaming the city as the sunlight started to fade. Logic said that you should go home, but there was no way you were going to leave Bakugou outside and alone. You loved him, and you needed to find him, hopefully before anything happened to him.

You staggered through the streets, voice quiet and strained as you hopefully looked for even just a hint of tan or the tell tale jingle of your collar. It was late, and as much as you loathed the thought of going home without him, you had begun to lose hope of finding him today. As you turned to head home, you ran into someone.

"I'm so sorry! I wasn't watching where I was going," You babbled, apologizing to the man. The guy glared at you before his whole demeanor changed as he looked you over. A dangerous look starting to form on his face that made unease rise within you.

"where are you going, sweetheart? Maybe I could walk you home. Come on, I know a shortcut." Before you could make a move, he had grabbed your arm and dragged you into a side ally, cornering you against the brick, his other hand going right over your throat

"Alright pretty girl, I want you to empty out that purse for me. And if you so much as scream, you'll regret it."

You dared not disobey, any chance of resistance fading as he showcased his quirk. His smirk was as sharp as the knives now protruding from his fingers, sharp and glinting in the limited moonlight, poised over your throat m. Being quirkless, you didn't have much choice.

Trembling, you began to slowly reach for your bag keeping your eyes focused on him, not wanting to surprise the man and cause him to stab you. He was beginning to tap his foot impatiently.

You fumbled with the zipper, horrified to find that it was stuck.

"What's the hold up, get it open!"

He had pressed forward, blades nicking your skin.

"I-i't's stuck! I can't get it open! "

"Not good enough, girlie" He growled, jabbing your side with one of his blade fingers.

You cried out in pain and struggled to get the bag open to avoid another injury. If you weren't so preoccupied with the pain and panic, you would have heard a pop from the top of the alleyway. While you didn't hear that, you absolutely heard what came next.

An enraged scream tore through the alleyway and your captor was torn away from you. Your mind was having problems processing the scene though. Your attacker was being pummeled by.... A blonde naked guy. When the criminal tried to get back up, the blondie created an explosion with his hands, sending the villain flying with a bright flash of light. He righted himself and turned tail.

"WHERE THE **** DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING?! I'LL KICK YOUR ***!!"

The blonde yelled after him. And it looked like he would have to, if your legs didn't take that moment to give out on you. You sunk to the ground with a loud thump which drew the blonde man's attention.

His expression softened a little as he looked back at you, moving to crouch next to you. He was quite intimidating. His brows were turned down in an angry expression and his eyes were an unusual shade of red. You pressed yourself back against the wall, leaning away from the strange man.

"Oi, dumb***, what the **** are you doing out here? It's dangerous."

You swallowed nervously before speaking, keeping your eyes trained on his face as a blush crept across your cheeks. You would have answered, except you were interrupted by a throbbing pain in your side, the adrenaline and shock from blondie's appearance distracting you from your wounded side. You cried out in pain and clutched it in a vain attempt to get it to stop.

The man noticed your struggles and cursed under his breath before scooping you up in his arms.

"Wait! What are you doing?! Put me down!"

"Stop struggling, dumb***, I'm trying to get you home!"

He set a quick pace, holding you close to his bare chest. It was unnerving, but he knew exactly where he was going. It wasn't long before you were stopped in front of your apartment door.

You shakily went to unlock the door, but the man took the keys from your unsteady hands and unlocked the door, bringing you inside. He set you on the couch, careful of your side.

"W-who are you? How did you know where I live?"

You watched him curiously. As much as he should have scared you, this strange man made you feel safe. He handled you with such care.

He scoffed, heading to the bathroom and returning with the first aid kit.

"It's Bakugou, dumb***. Now shut up and rest, you're injured."

You looked pointedly at the ceiling as he worked on your side.

"What do you take me for an idiot? Who are you really? Some weirdo stalker?"

He growled in annoyance and flicked your forehead before sitting back and looking over his handiwork.

"That should do for now. Stay put, I'm going to go find some clothes."

The audacity of this man. You were confused and tired, and in pain and just wanted to wake up from this nightmare and see your little Pomeranian waiting for you.

You must have dozed off, because when you woke up, it was to colorful swear words coming from the kitchen. You sat up, rubbing your eyes as you started to remember your memories from the night before.

The blonde man who claimed to be your dog was in the kitchen, wearing a pair of sweatpants and one of your oversized t shirts. He appeared to be cooking.

You tried to get up and wobbled uncertainly over towards him. When he noticed, his angry expression seemed to fade away one of... fondness? The expression didn't last for long though as it quickly shifted to annoyance.

"What the **** were you doing out so late last night?! You could have been killed!"

You frowned and glared at him.

"I had to find Bakugou!I love him, I couldn't just leave him out there, he could have been hurt, or in trouble! "

He tensed, staring at you with wide eyes seemingly caught off guard by your outburst. He Gaped for a moment or two or before groaning and running a hand down his face.

"You really are so stupid, (y/n). The goal of running was so that you wouldn't find me. I didn't expect you to stay out and look for me like an idiot."

He huffed and stepped forward, trapping you against the counter with his palms braced on the counter top on either side of you. It was then that you noticed something that had somehow escaped your detection the night before. A red and black flame patterned collar was fastened around his neck.

You were struck silent for a moment before your palm made contact with his face with a resounding slap.

"WHAT THE ****, CRAZY LADY?!"

He reeled back, looking at you with shock as you glared at him.

"Me? What the **** is wrong with you? Why'd you take off on me at the park? You had me worried sick, jerk!"

He seemed to pout as he nursed his sore cheek.

"You were going to put a muzzle on me..."

You softened, anger fizzling out at his uncharacteristically quiet tone.

"Bakugou... You have to believe I wouldn't do that to you. You've always been my little spitfire, I would never do that to you. That lady was out of line, if anyone deserved a muzzle, it was her crazy little demon of a dog."

You smiled softly, stepping forward into his space, your hands going to cup his cheeks, tilting his face down so you could look into those intense red eyes that were so familiar.

"You're my hero Bakugou, I wouldn't change you for the world."

His hands came to rest over your own hands, his pleasantly warm against your skin. He seemed to be deep in thought. You just enjoyed the tender moment, watching him realize that you meant every word. Something clicked and then he was leaning in. Before you knew it, he was kissing you. And then you were kissing him back, never feeling more safe than when his arms moved to circle around your waist, pulling you against him.

After a moment, you pulled away, a breathless smile taking over your face.

"I love you Bakugou, I hope you know that."

He gave a cheeky smirk and pressed another quick kiss to your lips.

"And I guess I love you too, even if you're a dumb***"

You huffed in annoyance. This was going to take some getting used to, but honestly? You didn't really mind the challenge.

[ultimatetrashyfanfic]

I’m just gonna say Non-despair AU cause I want everyone to be happy. I freaking LOVE Gundham so much, he’s wonderful and I’ve been wanting to write him for a while (but stalling cause of his DIALOGUE. It’s so hard). Buuuut I decided to finally give it a shot. And to kind of vent a little cause he used to stress me out in his dark coat and scarf in tropical heat. With Kazuichi because I want them to be friends, and because I seem physically incapable of not putting Kazuichi in every fic. COULD be seen as pre-soudam if you prefer, I didn’t write it like that but it could be if that floats your boat. I do like that ship, I just like other ones with Gundham and kazuichi more. Anyway, hope you enjoy - Circle

Also on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33543364

Warning: descriptions of overheating, sickfic. Nothing really bad here.

Kazuichi wasn’t shocked to wake up sprawled across a towel with sand in his hair and a dry mouth, completely alone on the beach. This wasn’t even the first time it had happened. When his insomnia was really bad he’d always doze throughout the next day - for some reason he couldn’t sleep in his warm, comfortable bed at night but could drop off in seconds with his head on the breakfast table or against Hajime’s shoulder. His classmates never bothered to wake Kazuichi if he was somewhere he wouldn’t be in the way, so the beach was a frequent napping spot. They always made sure to leave him in the shade with a water bottle for when he woke, so Kazuichi didn’t mind. It was normal.

What was very much not normal was waking up to Gundham grasping the front of his t-shirt, shaking him violently and yelling some weird gibberish that Kazuichi was still too woolly-headed to understand.

“Wha..?” he muttered, trying to wake up properly. For a second he wondered if he was having a weird lucid dream, because Gundham never usually touched people, especially him - though he was shaking him by the shirt instead of the shoulders.

“You’re gonna stretch out my clothes,” Kazuichi whined, sitting up and scrubbing his eyes.

“As if your tattered garments are a priority right now! Answer me with honesty, lest the demons tear your tongue from your very mouth. Have you encountered the wrath of my Crimson Steel Elephant?” Gundham cried, far too loudly.

“What?” Kazuichi mumbled. “Gundham, I can’t decipher your witchy language when I’ve just woken up.”

“Foolish mortal! This is a dire emergency!”

“Why? What’s happened?”

“I shall repeat myself just once more, so listen well. Have you encountered one of my Dark Devas of Destruction? Maga-Z appears to be missing,” Gundham said. Despite the grandeur and fancy words, Kazuichi could see he did look pretty distressed, holding the three remaining hamsters in his hand as if he was scared they’d dash away too.

“Oooh, okay. You’ve lost a hamster. That’s all you had to say, Gundham. One single sentence and I would’ve understood,” Kazuichi said.

“Do not talk so disparagingly! My Devas are far more powerful than mere hamsters. And Maga-Z has an independent spirit and often attempts to cause chaos alone. I have my concerns for the safety of everyone on this island if Maga-Z wields his destructive power without my guidance.”

Gundham was completely serious, but Kazuichi had to bite his cheeks to stop himself laughing, picturing a hamster storming across the island in a tank, decimating everything. But Gundham was clearly frantic, and Kazuichi was trying to be nicer to him recently, so he sighed.

“Okay, I’ll help you look for him. We should try to get the others to help too.”

“Indeed. You were the first mortal I came across,” Gundham admitted.

“Right, what does Maga-Z look like?” Kazuichi asked, taking a long drink of water. He felt like he’d be running around in the hot sun for a while now and wanted to drink while he had the chance.

“Your memory is abysmal.” Gundham seemed irritated that Kazuichi didn’t know the hamsters by sight.

“Look, I’m not exactly on nodding terms with your ham- Devas, am I? How am I supposed to know which is which? I only recognise the chubby one.” Kazuichi pointed to Cham-P.

Gundham reeled back like he’d been slapped, spluttering in outrage. “How dare you mock his corporeal form! If Cham-P was not so patient, he would obliterate you where you stand for such cheek.”

“Look, I wasn’t trying to body shame your hamster,” Kazuichi said irritably. “I wasn’t mocking. He’s just bigger than the other ones.”

“He is of the Golden variety, of course he is larger in stature. It has nothing to do with his nutritional intake.”

“Are we going to search or not?” Kazuichi snapped. God, talking to Gundham for more than five minutes was exhausting. “Do you know if Maga-Z has favourite places to go or something?”

Kazuichi let Gundham lead and did his very best not to talk to his strange companion as they searched through bushes and inside cupboards, asking any of his classmates they encountered to look too. Gundham muttered to the remaining hamsters, but didn’t try to talk to Kazuichi much either except to order him around - though his grandiose tone was quickly becoming softer and more anxious.

“Maga-Z has never disappeared from my influence for so long,” he mumbled, pulling his scarf to cover his mouth. “I cannot contain this feeling of dread.”

“Hey, don’t worry,” Kazuichi said, surprising himself. “We’ll find him. He’ll be okay.”

Gundham blinked, then stood up straighter. “I assure you, I fear for the inhabitants of the island. Maga-Z will come to no harm.”

But he was worrying, and even Kazuichi could see it. His searching was becoming frantic, his usually careful hands clumsy, so he knocked things off their shelves and forgot to tidy up or close doors behind them. He started running between buildings and bushes, long coat billowing, calling out for his lost hamster.

“Gundham! Hang on a second,” Kazuichi gasped. “I can’t breathe!”

Surprisingly, Gundham did as he was told, leaning against a palm tree in the shade. He wrapped his arms around his chest, pale fists gripping his dark coat. His carefully styled hair was starting to droop in the heat, and his face was very pink. Kazuichi had never seen so much colour in his cheeks before. The three remaining hamsters cowered inside Gundham’s scarf, sensing his anxiety.

Kazuichi went to lean beside him, wiping the sweat off his own forehead. He didn’t know how Gundham managed in his black clothes every day.

“We’ll find him,” Kazuichi said again. “Ibuki and Twogami and Mahiru said they’d look. And Miss Sonia looked like she was going to cry when I told her Maga-Z was missing. She said she wouldn’t rest until he was found.”

“She has a good heart,” Gundham said softly.

“Yeah…” Kazuichi paused. “Hey, you didn’t say anything nice like that about me. I’m the one who’s been running around with you in the baking sun for hours.”

Gundham didn’t respond. He’d been talking a lot less in the past twenty minutes or so, though he’d originally been giving incomprehensible orders to Kazuichi every two minutes. Souda assumed he was just growing more concerned for Maga-Z the longer he was missing - so he was caught off guard when Gundham slumped over and fell limply against him, almost bringing them both to the floor.

“Dude!” Kazuichi managed to catch hold of Gundham. “What are you doing?”

Perhaps Gundham didn’t know what he was doing either, because he had a look of sheer bafflement on his face. He tried to pull himself upright, clinging to the rough bark of the palm tree, but each time he wobbled dangerously and Kazuichi had to grab onto him again.

“What is this..? I appear to be reacting negatively to your mortal world’s atmosphere.” His usually forceful speech came out laboured and slow, and Gundham placed a hand to his lips in surprise.

“What? You’ve been surviving in this atmosphere for ages already,” Kazuichi argued. “What’s up with you? You sound drunk. Can you tell me in plain English?”

“The temperature in this godforsaken land exceeds even the fiery bowels of hell,” Gundham hissed, having to cling to Kazuichi to stay upright.

Kazuichi took a second to disentangle Gundham’s web of fancy words. “Sooo… you’re too hot. I guess that makes sense. Who wears a black coat and a scarf in this heat? And I know you haven’t had any water since we started searching. I’d better take you back to your cabin,” he sighed.

“Unhand me this instant, you fiend!” Gundham growled, though he was the one using Kazuichi like a walking stick. “I could never rest while one of my Dark Devas of Destruction is unguided.”

“Well they’ll all be unguided if you get heatstroke and drop dead,” Kazuichi said. “Half the island is searching for Maga-Z - and I’ll go back out to keep looking as soon as I can, okay?” As much as Gundham might get on Kazuichi’s nerves sometimes, he didn’t want him to get really sick or hurt. He hoped Maga-Z had enough sense not to wander into the sea or something; Gundham would be crushed.

“Hmm.” Gundham didn’t look convinced.

“Your other three ham- I mean Devas probably need to cool down a bit too,” Kazuichi tried.

Another pause. “Very well,” Gundham sighed. “I shall retire to my artificially cooled domain until the effects of this oppressive atmosphere wear off. I trust you to ensure the search continues.” He turned on his heel and tried to walk on his own, staggering alarmingly.

“Hey, careful!” Kazuichi ran to steady him. “I told you I’d help you.”

Gundham slapped his hands away. “Fool! Have you forgotten I am cursed with poison?”

“Oh for God’s sake! Could you just give an inch for once! Why do you make everything so difficult?” Kazuichi cried exasperatedly.

Gundham stuck his chin in the air and started berating Souda again - but before he’d even finished the first sentence his words died away. He blinked several times, looking dazed, swaying where he stood.

“Gundham..?” Kazuichi said nervously.

Gundham didn’t respond. He took another few staggering steps towards his cabin, then crumpled as his knees gave way under him. Kazuichi cried out and hurried to catch him, their foreheads bashing together painfully. Gundham’s skin was clammy and damp, his face looking much more… alive than usual. Kazuichi realised it was because his pale makeup was running.

“Fucking hell, Gundham,” Kazuichi groaned, hauling one of Gundham’s arms around his shoulders. “Just hold onto me, okay? Try not to pass out.”

Surprisingly, Gundham nodded, staring down at his feet like it was taking a huge effort to make them move. It was clear he was trying to be helpful, but Kazuichi had to carry a lot of his weight and they were both breathless by the time they reached Gundham’s cabin. Kazuichi breathed a sigh of relief as the wall of cool air conditioning washed over them.

“Thank God for that,” he mumbled, dumping Gundham onto the bed. It was carefully made, which Kazuichi had never understood; why bother making your bed when you were just going to mess it up every night? The entire room was neat, though the giant cage meant it rather smelled like hamsters. “Right, get your coat and scarf off.”

Gundham glared at him viciously.

“Oh, that’s the thanks I get, is it? Well, no matter how annoying you might be, you’re overheated. No wonder, wearing that stupid dark coat. So get it off.” Kazuichi grabbed Gundham’s arms and yanked the coat sleeves off like he was undressing a sulky toddler. Gundham hissed a series of furious curses at him - one of which sounded like Latin, which was actually pretty impressive - and the three remaining hamsters hopped out onto the bed, startled.

“There. Was that so hard?” Kazuichi said silkily when Gundham was lying on the bed in his shirt and scarf, glaring. Kazuichi tried to take the scarf off too, but Gundham’s hissed threats became more vehement and he gave up. “Fine, keep it on then. Though I don’t think the gothic look is very sustainable in a tropical climate, man. Right, I’m going to get you something to drink.”

Gundham didn’t respond until Kazuichi had returned with a cup full of water from the bathroom. “I shall take advice from one with such abysmal fashion sense as yourself with a grain of salt, fiend,” he said, with as much dignity as he could muster while tomato-red and damp with sweat on his bed.

Kazuichi had to fight very hard not to pour the glass of water directly over Gundham’s head, but he just about managed to help him drink it instead. Then he grabbed the little fan from the bathroom and placed it by Gundham’s bed, dampened a cloth and slapped it rather unceremoniously on his forehead. Gundham yelped and glared again, water trickling down his temples. Good. Serves him right for that earlier comment. “There. Keep your head back or you’ll smudge your eyeliner. And don’t move. I’ll try to find Mikan while I’m looking for Maga-Z, okay?”

Gundham turned his face away, cupping one hand over the Devas protectively. He mumbled something into the material of his scarf.

“What?” Kazuichi asked.

“I said I am grateful for your assistance…”

“Oh.” Kazuichi was surprised. He’d never heard Gundham acknowledge he needed any help before - though maybe that was Kazuichi’s own fault. He’d been the one to start up the whole stupid rivalry thing (which wasn’t ever a rivalry in the first place since the girl wasn’t remotely interested). Maybe this was a step towards a reconciliation.

“I mean, I wasn’t gonna leave you to die,” Kazuichi added awkwardly.

“You are far more tolerable when you do not echo the Dark Queen like a parrot. I once believed you had no real mind of your own,” Gundham said bluntly.

Kazuichi flushed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You made yourself an extension of the Dark Queen. You never disputed her or challenged her. You agreed with her every word.”

“Well… I wanted her to like me,” Kazuichi mumbled. “Look, you don’t need to lecture me about all this. You know I’ve left Sonia alone.”

“Indeed. But you still wish to befriend her?” Gundham asked. Even weak and overheated as he was, his eyes were burning into Kazuichi’s with such a fierce intensity he had to look away.

“That’s her choice. Why are you asking all this?”

“If you still seek a friendly companionship with the Dark Queen, you should not forget she is a mere powerless mortal,” Gundham said. “She does not wish to be treated like she is extraordinary. She does not wish to be around those who only agree to please her.”

Kazuichi stared at him. Was Gundham really offering advice? Was this a weird way to repay him for helping out? It was pretty embarrassing to be given advice on how to make friends from Gundham, who openly distrusted everyone - but he was friends with Sonia. Maybe even something more, Kazuichi honestly didn’t know. He’d tried to stay away from Sonia as much as possibly, partly because he wanted her to be more comfortable and partly because he was pretty fucking embarrassed by his past behaviour. But he would like to be her friend. Nothing else - he knew that wouldn’t ever happen - but friends was good.

“Now make haste!” Gundham suddenly cried, making Kazuichi jump. “Continue the search! I shall rejoin you as soon as I am able.”

“No, rest. Don’t move and especially don’t put your coat on again. I’ll find Maga-Z,” Kazuichi said quickly. He dashed outside before Gundham could protest, groaning as the sticky heat wrapped around him once more.

He started searching again, after taking a quick detour to Mikan’s cabin to ask if she could go check on Gundham and make sure he hadn’t gone out into the sun again. Almost everyone on the island was searching now, splitting off into little groups to cover more ground. Nagito was one of the last to join in - and Hajime and Kazuichi watched in astonishment as he shifted the very first box he touched in the storage room of the old building and pointed. “There he is.”

“WHY didn’t I ask him first?!” Kazuichi practically screamed.

“Ultimate Luck seems a pretty useful talent,” Hajime murmured to him, not wanting Nagito to hear. It’d only start him off on a long self-deprecating rant. “Go on then, Kazuichi. Get him.”

Kazuichi peered behind the box on his hands and knees. Maga-Z was cowering in the corner, fur dishevelled and standing on end. He didn’t look too friendly. “Why do I have to grab the stupid hamster?” Kazuichi whined. “You grab him, Hajime. I don’t like them. They look like they know too much.”

“What are you on about?” Hajime sighed. “It’s just a hamster. You can’t be scared of a hamster, Kazuichi.”

“They’re Gundham’s hamsters. They probably like… worship the devil or something.”

“Hamsters don’t worship anything. They’re just hamsters.”

“Can I go now?” Nagito asked, looking like he was losing braincells just listening to this conversation.

“Yeah, thanks, Nagito. Unless you fancy grabbing this hamster,” Kazuichi said. He looked hopeful, but Nagito left without another word.

“I’ll do it,” Hajime said, exasperated. He reached behind the box to ease his hand underneath Maga-Z, but as soon as his fingers brushed fur, the hamster made a mad dash forward. Directly towards Souda. He squealed and hastily cupped both hands around Maga-Z, holding him at arm’s length. “Oh my God, oh my God, I got him… Oh God, he’s gonna bite me, I know he is,” Kazuichi whined.

“Hey, good job,” Hajime said, surprised. “I didn’t think you’d catch him.”

“I’m not a baby, Hajime,” Kazuichi huffed. Then he whimpered in a very childish way. “Ugh, he’s wriggling around. Can I… put him somewhere? A bag or something? I don’t trust him.”

“Just shove him in your pocket and let’s go. It’s boiling in here. And Gundham will be stressing about Maga-Z. Do you know where he is?”

“I had to put him to bed because he nearly fainted. He was running around in his black coat all day.”

Hajime rolled his eyes. “Nobody on this island has any self-preservation skills.”

“At least Maga-Z is okay.” Kazuichi studied the little ball of fluff cupped in his hands. Somehow his little ink drop eyes did look menacing. “Hey, he really does look like he wanted to go off and cause chaos on his own, doesn’t he?”

Hajime gave Kazuichi a look. “I think you’ve spent too much time with Gundham today.”

Thankfully, Gundham was still in his room and looking a lot better, though still very visibly agitated. His colour had returned to ghostly pale (he must’ve reapplied his makeup) and his eyes were far more focused - they snapped to the door right away when Hajime opened it. When he saw Kazuichi, his hands still full of wriggling hamster, his brow cleared.

“Take him, quick!” Kazuichi said, hurrying over to the bed. “I’m sure he wants to bite me.”

“You fiend,” Gundham murmured, taking the hamster. For a second Kazuichi was offended, thinking Gundham was calling him names when he and Hajime had been nice enough to bring the hamster back, but then he realised Gundham was talking to Maga-Z. He spoke to them in exactly the same way he spoke to his classmates, no silly mushy voices like most people did with cute animals.

“I can only pray you have not caused too much destruction while unsupervised,” he murmured, smoothing Maga-Z’s fur. The hamster sat up to greet him like a little puppy, and Kazuichi noticed for the first time that Maga-Z’s cheeks were bulging.

“Did he really run off just to steal food?” Kazuichi groaned. “We’ve been so stressed and he was just eating!”

“Ah yes, a feast befitting the magnificent Crimson Steel Elephant,” Gundham said, gently placing Maga-Z with the other hamsters. They circled him joyfully, happy to be reunited too.

Kazuichi threw his hands up exasperatedly. “I give up. You’re all nuts.”

Gundham turned to Kazuichi, his face solemn. “I am deeply indebted to you, as is everybody who resides on this island. I cannot speak of the terrors that may have occurred if Maga-Z was without guidance. I shall spread the story of your triumph to every other mortal here so they can show you due gratitude,” he said.

“Oh… Thanks, man.” Kazuichi could see he meant well, but the thought of Gundham telling everyone Kazuichi saved the island from a hamster’s destruction was pretty embarrassing. He could already see Hajime smirking out of the corner of his eye.

“You should stay inside a bit longer though,” Hajime said. “Just in case. You need to make sure you’re totally cooled down.”

“Indeed. I have had ample excitement for one day,” Gundham said.

“Me too,” Kazuichi mumbled.

“If you’re feeling better, you can tell everyone about Kazuichi saving the island over dinner,” Hajime said, grinning. Kazuichi glared at him.

“Asshole,” he muttered as soon as they were outside Gundham’s cabin.

Hajime burst out laughing. “Maybe he’ll make you sound really gallant and fearless when he tells it.”

“Then everyone will know it’s a lie right away. And anyway, Nagito saw what happened. Even if you don’t give away the real story, he’ll definitely tell.”

“Probably. But you did save his hamster, even if you weren’t that fearless about it. Is there a truce between you two now?”

“I suppose so. He’s not so bad. Crazy and dramatic and difficult… but okay,” Kazuichi admitted. He paused. “I don’t know what half of the words he uses mean though.”

“Yeah,” Hajime agreed. “I don’t either.”

[onenerdtwonagas]

A Doctor & A Vampire (Regency/Vampire au)

It had been roughly a month since Doctor Uriah Hoffman had decided to take up the offer presented to him. The Nocturne estate had greeted him in all its solitary grandeur. The grounds, covered in lush gardens of wide variety, were nestled comfortably in the middle of the woods and hills. There was a pristine lake just a brief walk away, which could be seen from the highest points of the manor, that reflected the morning sun like a brilliant mirror. With so much ample ground under the noble family’s jurisdiction, it was a biologist’s dream. And to think the eldest son had taken interest in his work, enough to sponsor him and even provide lodgings within the manor itself, was enough to make the young scholar pinch himself several times a day for the first week.

But time had passed, and he had been given full leisure of the study, the library, and free roam of the grounds. Every so many days, the young Lord Nocturne would take his tea or coffee with the doctor to inquire after his studies. They’d discuss other topics as well, of course. Music, literature, politics—the latter of which Lord Nocturne was much more educated on—were all touched upon at one point or another. It didn’t take long before Uriah found the other man’s company to be just as agreeable as the beautiful lands he owned. Perhaps more so. Which was a dangerous thought.

To be fond of men was trouble enough, but to be fond of a nobleman... Well, times and society weren’t kind to that sort of behavior. How he wished it were different. Having to dodge debutantes and their desire for proposals every social season since he had become of age had become quite the tiresome endeavor. He was glad to escape it within the halls of Nocturne estate.

But the young lord was swiftly beginning to prove steep competition for Uriah’s attention. When he caught glimpses of his dark hair and vividly blue eyes, he found it increasingly difficult to focus on whichever text or sample he had previously been pouring over. His laugh was warm and infectious during their discussions. He had an effortlessly charming smile. Uriah wondered how he hadn’t found someone to marry. Surely dozens of women had vied for his affection.

But...that wasn’t his place to question. So he poured himself ever further into his work. Botany was a tricky study, but there was no greater time than the summer, when so many blooms were coming in.

He was shut in the study late in the evening, working my lamplight at dissecting a rose he had carefully selected from the garden that afternoon. Perhaps if he learned enough about this particular specimen, he could try crossing it with another to create a hardier breed. Roses were so terribly fickle—

“Still toiling away at this late hour?”

He nearly leapt out of his skin. Uriah whirled around and stared back at the Lord, frozen by the yelp his guest had let out. And then he dissolved into laughter and leant against a bookshelf for support.

“Good God, you cry out like that and the staff will think I’ve struck you!”

“You might as well have, sneaking in on me like that!”

Uriah felt his cheeks burn as he smoothed his hair back and tried to readjust himself in his seat. Lord Nocturne wiped a tear from his eye and calmed himself.

“Sneaking? It is my manor, good sir. Perhaps I’ll sneak and slink about as I like,” he chimed, folding his arms and propping a hip against the side of the mahogany table Uriah worked on. He cocked his head, watching him continue with his careful dissection. Uriah could sense eyes on him, but kept his gaze down. Out of...shyness? Proper manners? Focus? He couldn’t tell.

“I could watch you all day,” Lord Nocturne murmured.

“Pardon?”

“Your hands. You’re quite good with them.”

That made Uriah look up, one brow quirked. The lord chuckled and tilted his chin downwards.

“Your dissections, I mean. It’s like watching an artist at work. A master at your craft.”

“Dissection is merely one minor component of the craft, my lord,” Uriah sighed, shaking his head. He deftly removed a petal and set it aside.

“Orpheus.”

“Hmm?”

“You’ve lived here for a month now. You can simply call me Orpheus.”

Uriah swallowed.

“I...would not want to be improper.”

“Oh, listen to you, more tied-up than a blushing new debutante,” he chuckled. “Improper, he says... Would it truly be so terrible to call one another by our first names, Doctor Hoffman? Aren’t we good friends by now?”

“Well, I suppose so.”

“You suppose so?”

Uriah rolled his eyes and tried not to let his smirk show too broadly.

“Are you a lord or a parrot?”

“See? Just that! You think I’d let anyone poke fun at me that way? Come now, call me Orpheus and I’ll call you Uriah.”

He sighed, shaking his head and setting his work down once more. Uriah slumped back in his chair and flung his hands up.

“Very well, it’s your manor, as you said. Orpheus.”

A genuine smile washed across the lord’s face. He truly did have a devilishly handsome smile. Uriah found it all too easy to look at.

“Very good, Uriah. I like that much better.”

“I suppose you get tired of all the formality? Is that it?”

“More or less. It can be tiring. Oh, of course, I recognize the privileges of being of noble birth, the wealth, the prestige, on and on and—well. You know,” he sighed, shooing away an imaginary fly.

“But it’s a comfort to have those who address you by name rather than title. I rather like having someone I can simply be myself with. Not ‘Young Lord Nocturne’. Just Orpheus.”

“I see,” Uriah mused, propping his head in one hand. “And who exactly is, ‘just Orpheus’, hmm? How different is he from his titled self?”

Orpheus sighed and clicked his tongue against his teeth. He turned his attention to one of the tall, wide windows that adorned the outer-facing wall of the study, approaching with languid steps. He pulled back the curtain and stared out at the wide, white moon that shone over the grounds, and the glittering stars that hung in the night sky.

“Someone who would shock proper society,” he answered at length. He glanced back over his shoulder at Uriah. “Perhaps I would shock you, as well.”

That look. Uriah wasn’t entirely innocent to a longing stare from across a ballroom floor. But he was suddenly tense. For such a smoldering gaze to come from him, from someone that charismatic and charming... It felt dangerous.

“Come,” Orpheus said, tilting his head towards the glass. “It’s a lovely night; you should look.”

Uriah held his breath for a long, quiet moment. Orpheus beckoned him over with a playful flick of the wrist. Exhaling heavily, Uriah obeyed the summons, and crossed the floor with hesitant steps. Orpheus was right; it did look like a lovely evening. The air would be warm, and the gardens’ abundant blossoms would adorn the breeze with their scent. It was the perfect night for the city’s social elites and their offspring to be dancing the hours away, toasting to newly agreed upon proposals, spreading the most recent gossip...

“It is beautiful,” Uriah consented.

“Yes. Beautiful.”

Something, he wasn’t sure what, made Uriah turn and look up at Orpheus. He was surprised to see the lord’s eyes not on the view outside, but on him instead. And so very, very intense. His blue eyes seemed to glow in the evening light away from the lamp at the table. They looked like the moon itself. Very much so. Almost...almost ethereal....

Wait, were they truly glowing?

“You...your eyes...”

His words weren’t coming easily to him. Uriah’s brow furrowed and he tried to think of the rest of the sentence he had started. He could speak perfectly well, so why could he not speak just then? And why could he not look away from those eyes? His eyes...

Uriah tried to move, to step back from the window, but his legs felt heavy, as if his boots were made of lead. He took one staggering step backwards, his spine meeting with the end of a tall bookshelf. Orpheus remained still, though his hand dropped from the curtain. His eyes retained their ethereal glow.

“Y-Your eyes...glowing...”

“Easy now,” Orpheus said softly. “Don’t fight it, you’ll hurt yourself.”

Uriah tried to support himself against the wood, hands struggling for a proper grip. He should have been afraid, but the inescapable stare of Orpheus’ eyes sent an eerie calm over him. He stared back like a timid deer, caught in a strange trap he couldn’t prossibly explain.

“What...w-what are you—“

His knees failed him, and he felt his body give in to the force of gravity. Rather than hitting the floor as expected, however, Orpheus leant forward to catch him in the bend of one arm, holding him up.

“It’s alright,” Orpheus soothed. “You’re alright. Just look at me.”

What choice did he have? Orpheus held him there, the glow of his eyes sending cognitive thoughts scattering to the farthest reaches of Uriah’s mind. His spare hand brushed the doctor’s hair back from his face, tracing the curve of his jaw, seducing him with every touch.

Uriah’s body slackened further until he was as weak and pliant as a rag doll, the lord scooping him up against his chest and carrying him from the study. Had he been able to look anywhere but up at the lord’s face, he would have noticed no staff were present in the halls. It was as if they were entirely alone. This handsome lord and him, entirely weak and defenseless. It frightened him enough that a whimper escaped.

“Hush, I won’t harm you,” Orpheus crooned, his voice like velvet. “I promise.”

The door to the lord’s chambers was open. Luxurious sheets and blankets lined a large four poster bed. Paintings and pastels hung on the walls. A gentle fire crackled in his private hearth, it’s flickering glow cast about the room. Uriah’s vision swam as Orpheus nudged the door shut.

“I know what this must look like, dear Uriah, but I promise I’m not that sort of man,” Orpheus explained, voice soft. “I simply prefer not to risk intrusion. The study provides an opportunity for such.”

Uriah felt the lord seat himself on the edge of the bed, holding him in his lap. The bedside table had several odd bottles, and a bowl of steaming water with fresh cloths set aside. Even in a more clearheaded state, Uriah couldn’t have discerned what they were all for.

He was further distracted by the loosening of his shirt collar, the fabric slipping down past his shoulder. He could feel Orpheus’s fingers brushing over his skin, stroking his collarbone and caressing his neck. He stared up at him in mute confusion.

“Be still for me, now,” Orpheus whispered. Something about his mouth caught Uriah’s attention. His teeth...they looked so very sharp...

“You won’t feel a single thing...”

Lips brushed his neck. Uriah shivered. And then he felt a gentle prick, and the warmth of Orpheus’s mouth on his skin. It all seemed to make sense, then. The glow of his eyes, the seductiveness of his voice, the pointed fangs...

He could feel the flash of Orpheus’s throat as he swallowed, the gentle stroke of his fingers in his hair as he cradled his head in one hand, the brush of his other thumb against his hand as it lay limp in his lap. Uriah could only stare blankly up at the canopy of the bed, mind and vision reverberating, his senses dulled and his body docile. But the word bounced back and forth in his mind all the same:

Vampire. Vampire. Vampire...

It felt like a strange sort of eternity before Orpheus released his throat, fangs deftly retreating from smooth skin. His tongue ran over the wound, ensuring not a single drop was wasted. Somehow, he felt weaker than he had before. How could anyone be any less defenseless than a doll? That’s what he felt like, a doll in Orpheus’s arms. He should have been terrified, and yet, as Orpheus reached across him to dampen a cloth and placed it gently against Uriah’s throat, he felt safe.

“There. Not a bit of harm done,” Orpheus whispered. “Just as I promised. And you’ve already stopped bleeding. Wonderful.”

The glow was gone from Orpheus’s eyes, but it still held power over Uriah. The young man was only barely beginning to gain back his mind, but the exhaustion of being fed off of still claimed his tongue. When he attempted to form words, all that came out was a pitiful moan. Orpheus looked down with a knowing sympathy, and exchanged his cleaning rag for one of the bottles.

“I don’t suppose you’re well enough to drink on your own? ...Hmm. Doesn’t appear so. If you’ll pardon me for this,” he sighed, deftly flicking the cork out and taking a swig.

He tilted Uriah’s head back and brought their mouths together. Had his mind been better collected, he might’ve had the sense to be embarrassed by the intimacy of the gesture, but instinct took hold instead. He drank like he hadn’t in days, his body desperate to regain its strength. By the third time, Uriah was capable of drinking straight from the bottle itself, with Orpheus’s support of course.

“W-What,” Uriah gasped weakly, “have you done to me?”

“Exhausted you, I’m afraid,” Orpheus answered apologetically.

“But that should help you get your wits back. Powerful elixir, that one. I was hoping you might not need it, but it seems I went just a little over your threshold.”

Uriah shook his head.

“You...vampire...”

“Ah, yes, well—“ Orpheus shrugged. “—there is that. But you’re still weak, precious. It’s a conversation we can have after you rest.”

Uriah wanted to protest. His hand grasped at the lord’s sleeve, only for his fingers to go slack immediately and his limb to fall back to his lap. Orpheus lifted him as easily as if he were carrying a child and flicked back the covers of the bed. He set Uriah down and unfastened his boots and the buttons of his vest, easing the garments off before pulling the blankets back over him.

“You’ll be more comfortable that way. A night’s rest should put you back in sorts.”

“O-Orpheus,” Uriah stammered, “don’t...don’t leave me like this... I can’t—if something h-happens—“

“Hush, I’m not leaving,” Orpheus interrupted. “You’re not fit to be left unattended in this state. I’ll keep watch.”

Their eyes met again, and for a moment Orpheus merely watched him, head slightly tilted. Uriah wondered what he was thinking. A part of him imagined the lord biting into his neck again, and another...another wanted to know if those fangs made kisses painful. But neither curiosity was satisfied. As Orpheus reached out a hand and brushed it along Uriah’s cheek, his eyes glowed once more.

“Sleep now, Uriah,” he whispered. “Sleep.”

The command echoed inside his head and he tried to resist. He wanted answers to his questions. But Orpheus repeated himself once more, and Uriah felt the moonlike glow of the lord’s eyes and the softness of his voice pull him down deep.

—

The bed was so warm, so soft. Were his sheets in his gifted room always so comfortable? His head shifted against the pillow and his eyes blinked open sluggishly. Strange. He didn’t remember his bed having curtains, or posts. He didn’t recall going to his bed, either. And that’s when it came flooding back. Uriah sat bolt upright with a start, kicking his legs free of the sheets and grasping for the curtain. He flung it open and looked around wildly before—

“Ah, good morning, doctor.”

Orpheus sat on a chair by the now extinguished fire, looking positively casual. His legs were crossed neatly, eyes glancing up from a little book he held in his hands, and his expression as innocent as if nothing had happened the night before. Uriah nearly fell on his face as he scrambled out of the bed. He pointed a shaking, accusatory finger at him.

“You!”

“Me?”

“Y-You bit me! You’re a—“

He froze, and then whirled on his heels, searching for—ah, there! He ran to a gilded mirror on the wall and pulled his shirt collar away from his neck, hands fumbling over his skin. Behind him, Orpheus chuckled and shook his head, snapping his book closed.

“You won’t find any evidence. I’m not some barbaric leech from the dark ages.”

“But you—y-your teeth! You had fangs! How could you not?”

“Only a careless or sadistic vampire leaves marks,” the lord explained, as if it were common knowledge. “Our teeth pierce flesh, but our tongues can heal it. Though I’m not quite sure how, exactly. Perhaps a new subject for you to study?”

“Don’t mock me! I know what you did! I know you’re a vampire!”

“I never denied it.”

“And for God’s sake, you—Hell! You undressed me!”

Uriah turned crimson as he stared down at himself in nothing but a disheveled shirt and trousers. Where was his vest? His good boots? That nice necktie his mother had sent him as a congratulatory gift! And to make matters worse, Orpheus was watching with clear and obvious amusement, smiling cheekily like a child.

“I did not strip you bare, did I? Please, if I wanted to lure you to bed, dear Uriah, I’m fairly certain I wouldn’t have need of my powers. I would have you undressing willingly without them.”

“I—“

Orpheus quirked one eyebrow, his smile turning to a smirk.

“You—You dog,” Uriah muttered. He spotted his vest at last and began redressing himself, back turned towards the lord in a last-ditch effort to win the conversation. He knew Orpheus was watching, regardless, and that only made his face feel warmer. He absolutely wouldn’t admit it, but a part of him knew Orpheus was right. If he had made advances, he wouldn’t exactly have said ‘no’.

He swore under his breath as his tie gave him trouble, and he began again for the third time. The lord sighed from his chair behind him, and rose to his feet.

“Allow me,” he offered. Uriah flinched at how suddenly Orpheus stood before him, strong hands undoing the incorrect knot and smoothing the fabric to try again. He worked much slower, to the point Uriah knew he was simply savoring the moment.

“I have a...proposition for you,” Orpheus started, his words patient and measured. “Would you care to hear it?”

Uriah exhaled through his nose.

“I don’t see how I have a choice in the matter.”

The lord’s mouth twitched upward.

“Well, my dear doctor, it seems we’re both in need of something, yes? You, a highly talented scholar in need of a benefactor for your work, and I, a noble who also so happens to be a vampire in need of blood from time to time.”

“...Go on,” Uriah prodded, still at the mercy of Orpheus’s purposefully snail-paced hands.

“Let’s say we make an arrangement, hmm? You give me just a little blood when I need it, not a drop more, and I, in turn, give you whatever you want.”

“You...want to make this a business contract of some kind?” Uriah asked hesitantly, finally daring to look up at Orpheus. The lord’s eyes were intense, smoldering. His hands finished the knot of Uriah’s tie suddenly and he tugged him closer, chin forced upwards.

“It doesn’t have to strictly be business,” he purred. “You don’t think you’re the only one tired of dodging single girls and their pushy mothers, do you?”

Uriah swallowed. He remained still, and so did Orpheus, their noses so close to touching.

“A-And...if I were to say ‘no?’”

“Oh, well, then I’d have to erase your memory of last night and you’d simply stay your originally intended time,” Orpheus answered, shrugging. Then he leaned in closer, his cheek barely brushing Uriah’s, and whispered into his ear.

“But something tells me you don’t truly want to forget.”

A shudder ran the entire length of Uriah’s spine. He stared into Orpheus’s eyes as he straightened up, charming smirk and all. Even without the glow of his eyes, or whatever supernatural charms had held him fast the night before, Uriah knew: Orpheus had him. He was utterly snared, and had no hope from Heaven or Hell of untangling himself.

“What say you then, Doctor Hoffman?”

“...Call me Uriah.”

[knit-wear-it]

Drunk Tank

Mood: (Harley x Ledger!Joker) Harley sees the Joker drunk for the first time. A little window into their relationship after the initial high of getting together has passed, and they’re still settling into living together. This period of time is probably the sweet spot for prompts, btw. 

Rating: Domestic 💯

Prompt: From Anon, Harley & J get drunk together or one of them reacts to the other getting drunk.

Drunk Tank, a Harlequin-Tumblr-Exclusive

It was mid-October, just a week after Harley and the Joker’s tussle with the Odessa gang, which of course, ended with Harley murdering their leader Boris Kosov via a brick to the skull. What was she supposed to do, let him live?

Black Canary arrived shortly thereafter, and now Harley was sporting three broken fingers on her right hand as a result of the fight that followed. They were taped up and splinted, rendering her remarkably useless. You couldn’t shoot with broken fingers, let alone be effective with a knife or any other kind of weapon. It was a frustrating injury, and made her feel like a liability, her hand tucked in her coat as she stood to the side while the Joker did the busy work.

Being useless was not something Harley Quinn was well-equipped to deal with, making her feel sulky and even a little depressed.

She and the Joker were almost two months into their experiment in togetherness, and Harley was still riding the wave of certainty and freedom that came with giving in to whatever this thing was between them. She couldn’t define it; she just knew it was there, vibrating at some higher frequency, and making her feel invincible.

Invincible until her own physicality got in the way, it seemed.

They were hardly a ‘talking about their feelings’ couple, but Harley sensed he was annoyed with her moodiness over being injured. He didn’t taunt her about it, which Harley interpreted as a choice to not make her feel worse, a genuinely surprising development. Obviously, there was no sympathy, and no attempt to cheer her up. He just wasn’t making it worse.

Over the last few days, she’d taken to hibernating, and he’d been out with increasing frequency. Maybe avoiding her. Maybe he just wanted to be out. Harley wasn’t sure what to make of it.

She knew the Joker better than anyone, and for the most part she could read him like an open book. Especially when things were good — the giddiness of companionship, the thrill of something new and head-spinningly good elevating everything. But they were only human, and things couldn’t always be good. They definitely couldn’t always be new.

That night J was out with Marty, leaving Harley at the safe house to sulk over her broken fingers and indulge in moody thoughts about the Joker losing interest in her. She didn’t really believe it would be that simple, but she was depressed, and it was morbidly satisfying to go to the darker corners of her mind.

It was edging up to 3 AM, and she was in bed watching reruns of Made in the Diamond District on an old laptop missing most of its keys. Ivania Dumas had just thrown a shoe at Bobby Kennedy’s head when Harley heard the loud creak of the window in the living room opening. Her head snapped up at the CRASH that followed, prompting her to jump out of bed and grab the handgun tucked in a holster slung over the headboard.

Harley sidled up to the bedroom door, flicking the safety off her piece and pressing her back against the wall.

Then there was a gruff sing-songy grumbling out in the living room, making her eyes widen as she realized this was no unlucky burglar.

She stepped out of the bedroom and slapped the light on at the wall, a pair of sconces blinking on, dimly illuminating the cramped kitchen and living room area.

The Joker was sitting on the floor beneath the narrow, horizontal window, having apparently rolled through it and fallen to the floor.  His legs were splayed out in front of him, his green-stained hair flopping over his forehead, his warpaint mostly wiped away apart from some black clinging to his eyelashes and red staining his lips.

He blinked rapidly under the lights, squinting up at Harley as she drew closer, her brow furrowed, confused.

“Wait-wait,” he slurred, smirking as he stretched both arms up toward her, swaying. “Don’t shoot, officer. I’m uh… I’m innocent.”

He giggled shrilly and Harley’s eyes widened even further as she realized what she was seeing.

“Are you… drunk?” she demanded, incredulous.

The Joker swayed forward, squeezing his eyes shut as he giggled to himself.

Harley set the gun aside on the kitchen counter, unsure how to react. She’d never seen him drunk before, and she’d never been drunk in his presence either. There just wasn’t time for it. Sure, neither of them would turn down a drink, especially after some especially chaotic work, but it was crucial to be present when you were wanted terrorists constantly on the run from the Batman.

“So, I guess you and Marty had some fun?” she asked tentatively, undeniably curious about this development.

“Mmm,” the Joker nodded sluggishly and shrugged out of his coat, leaving it in a puddle on the floor behind him.

Harley watched him try to push himself up twice only to fall on his ass both times. On his third attempt she stepped forward and grabbed him by the elbow, hauling him to his feet.

The Joker promptly lost his balance and staggered forward into Harley. She caught him by the lapels, but he forced her backward, his hands closed around her waist, fisting into her oversized tee shirt. Harley’s back hit the counter separating the tiny kitchen from the living room, her spine striking the edge, sending a fissure of irritation rolling through her.

“Hey!” she yelped, punching him on the arm with her good hand.

But the Joker just chuckled slyly and proceeded to tug her tee shirt up to reveal the black bikini-briefs she wore beneath. Then he swayed backwards, squinting down at them.

“Dawwwwww,” he cooed, sounding disappointed. “You’re wearing… panties.”

Before Harley could respond, his attention had already shifted. He dropped her shirt in favour of sliding both gloved hands into her hair, which was already greasy and wavy. He rocked back on his heels unsteadily as he flexed his fingers against her scalp, zhuzing her hair to make it big and fluffy before he released her to get a look at his work.

“Mmm,” he blinked at her sleepily, and tucked one messy lock of hair behind her ear.

“Wow,” Harley laughed, not knowing how else to respond to this bizarre behaviour.

“Ya know, there was a girl tonight,” the Joker smoothed her hair back from her face, his gloves snagging a few honey blonde strands, as ungentle as ever.

“A girl?” Harley’s eyebrows rose curiously.

“Mm,” he nodded and flapped one hand carelessly. “My uh… animal magnetism is impossible to ignore.”

“Did she tell you that?” Harley fought back a smile.

“Oohhhh,” he waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “It was uh, pretty obvious when she climbed into my lap.” 

“Really?” Harley pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh. “Did she realize who you are?”

“Psshhht,” the Joker hissed through his teeth, which might have meant he had no idea and didn’t care. “But I said… sorry sweetheart,” he slapped a hand over his heart dramatically. “I’m taken.”

“That’s good to hear,” Harley deadpanned, smirking.

“And she said, awwww, is she gonna get jealous.” His eyes grew heavy as he dramatized the retelling. “And I said, kitty-cat my girl don’t do jealous.”

Harley snorted, amused. But he wasn’t done yet.

“And she went, I bet I can make her jealous.” He threaded his fingers into Harley’s hair again, piling it up on top of her head this time. “And I said, honey, you don’t know my girl. She...” He growled quietly, his eyes suddenly intense as they trailed over Harley’s face, making her heart leap. “She’s a real pistol…”

He tipped forward suddenly, ostensibly going in for a kiss, but his nose crashed into Harley’s cheek, his fingers in her hair pulling at her scalp.

“Alright, Casanova,” Harley pushed on his chest and he swayed backward, his hands falling out of her hair. “Are you hungry?”

“Mmmmmmm,” he seemed to confirm with one big lazy nod. Then he yanked her shirt up to get a look at her panties again.

“Hungry for food,” Harley clarified, grinning openly as she pushed him away.

He staggered back, struggling out of his blazer while Harley circled into the kitchen to dig out left-over Caribbean food from the fridge. As she threw it into the microwave, the Joker stumbled into the bedroom, making Harley laugh softly as she listened to him crash into things trying to get undressed. She wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it, except that with his already-microscopic inhibitions lowered, some exceptionally fond feelings for her were floating to the surface of a brain usually concerned with more practical matters.

Harley examined her splinted fingers, the anxiety that she was annoying him with her ‘moodiness’ dissipating. Maybe he had been annoyed, but if this… affection for her was what was beneath that…

Harley sighed, trying not to beam stupidly as she grabbed the food out of the microwave. 

She stepped into the bedroom to find the Joker had divested himself of his clothes, and was sprawled out on the bed naked, attempting to light a poorly rolled cigarette with a disposable lighter.

“That’s dignified,” Harley drawled, handing him the box of take out, distracting him from the cigarette, which he promptly threw across the room in favour of the food.

Harley smiled and shook her head, circling to her side of the bed. She slid into the same position she’d been in before her partner staggered home drunk, demanding her attention. Feeling outrageously content, she tapped on the laptop to the episode playing, thinking that even shit-faced, the Joker was still an agent of chaos.

Just a far less threatening variety of it.

Fin

A/N: For the record, the Joker was totally out drinking with Marty to avoid Harley sulking over her broken fingers, haha. This is a perfect little look at their relationship before this weekend’s new chapter of the Pantomime. 

Like it, reblog it, leave a note, show me some love 🥰

"Alright, Casanova” 👇 LOL.

[robbyrobinson]

OWL HOUSE X CTHULHU MYTHOS: GOD AWAKEN (24)

Camila found herself alone in a dark, dank room. Around her wrists were tightly bound in a rope extending from the ceiling. It had now been a few hours since she was cruelly torn away from her only daughter. Her daughter may as well be dead at that point. Every passing hour, Camila tried in vain to loosen the strains weighing her down. The thought of what could become of her daughter filled her with determination, but even that was not enough to make a dint.

“Mija.”

The door swung open alerting the middle-aged woman. Any hope that it was her daughter on the other side were quickly dashed when she was met with the cold, luminous glow of a golden mask.

“It is time, daughter.”

Camila squinted her eyes in a scowl. “Whatever you have planned, you will not prevail.”

Emperor Belos let out a low, hazy chuckle. He was in such a sickly state his ribs were poking through his robes. At that rate, taking the life essences of palismans was not enough to delay the inevitable. Death was now knocking at Emperor Belos’ door to claim him and it occurred to Belos that Death was not a patient fellow. “I am really going to miss your feisty attitude; maybe that is where Luz got her fire from.”

Camila wanted to bash Belos’ mask in until his skull cracked from the pummeling. “Leave my daughter out of this.”

Belos raised his hand in objection. “Fret not, daughter: I will take good care of your daughter.” He turned away from Camila and exited through the door. “I will raise her to the perfect child. Better than you ever were.”

Emperor Belos firmly grasped his staff. He inhaled deeply and exhaled through the tiny slits in his mask. His legs were clenching up giving him a near gallop to his walk. The Owl Spy walked down the hall seeing his lord staggering.

“Any problem, your Majesty?”

Belos waved his head to save face. “Just interrogating the human woman.”

“I see. Luz and the Owl Lady are still locked away, so there should be little issue for the occasion.”

“Excellent; you have always been a loyal follower,” Belos lamented. “By the way, have you seen Kikimora? She is usually the one who would oversee these public punishments.”

The Owl Spy bowed his head. “It’s a shame, really. I cannot believe the odds of this happening.”

Belos tilted his head quizzically. “What pray tell?”

“Our Kikimora was in your laboratory earlier, and for the likes of me, I don’t know how it happened.”

Belos tapped his fingers on the tip of his staff. “Well, what is it? Go on.”

“Kikimora...lost her footing and fell into one of your vaults. She was not in too much pain from the looks of it. It was like...taking a long sleep.”

Belos loosened his grasp on his staff. “Well. That’s a pity.”

Belos resumed walking in the opposite direction without much thought aside from finally getting revenge on his adoptive daughter. When he was completely gone, the Owl Spy opened the door to Camila’s cell. Camila tensed up when she heard the door open again.

“Are you back to mock me more?” She looked at the site of the opened door instead seeing the Owl Spy. “You’re...you’re not Belos.”

The Owl Spy nodded and removed his mask. “Your daughter happens to be friends with my daughter.”

“Oh. Well, why are you here?” Camila walked backward as a way of trying to get as far away as she could.

“Relax, I am not going to hurt you,” he reassured.

“I’m sorry that I am having a hard time believing what any of you witches tell me,” Camila said, “after all, it was your coven that attacked the hospital I was working at and dragged me kicking and screaming to this world.”

The Owl Spy nodded in understanding. “Listen to me: your daughter is still alive, and she is fighting to save you.”

Camila perked up. “Take me to her, please.”

The Owl Spy put his finger on her mouth. “Not too loud...I do have a plan, just listen carefully.”

Amity sprinted down the halls with the knowledge that her siblings were locked away in the dungeon. Her breath was getting heavier and all the running was making her legs sore, but the pain was only a minor stumbling block.

“I just hope Luz has the glyphs ready.”

From the corner of her eye, she could see the mighty door of the dungeon coming into crystal view. In front of the door, two large burly guards were in front of it. Given their attire, it was easy to identify them as working for the dreaded Conformatorium. Amity quickly hid in a wall’s corner hoping to have been silent enough to not be heard. She glared out from behind the wall and saw that the guards were still none the wiser. In fact, they were having a conversation from the looks of it, but about what the witch-in-training did not know nor care.

Amity took her finger and drew a spell circle into the air drawing forth a fire ball. This too she had to do in great silence. She held the ball in the palm of her hand and watched it flicker as it danced around. She took one final look and flung it. She quickly dashed herself away when the guards took the bait and ran to find the origin of the sound.

Amity raced her way to the door now seeing that locks of varying shapes and sizes were all over the door. The witch girl looked around in some ways hoping that the key wasn’t too far behind. Having another idea in mind, Amity placed her hands on the door and inhaled. With a wave of her hand, permafrost began to manifest from her palms and wrists before spreading in all directions on the door. She could feel the door’s metallic design shift underneath her palms becoming converted to solid ice.

Once the door was completely frozen, Amity looked around for something she could pitch at the door. Scanning her surroundings, Amity grabbed a medium-sized rock and tossed it at the door. Much like breaking grass or fine china, the door broke into fragmented pieces and shattered. Without much prompt, Amity immediately dashed in on the off chance that the two guards from earlier returned. It took little effort to see that her siblings were in a cell together.

“Edric, Emira!”

She dashed to their cell, stopping just short of the bars. Now, Edric was nothing more than fragile glass: he was sprawled on the floor in capable of moving. From her sister’s wailing, Odalia likely arrived earlier and withdrew another hit of magic. Now, the boy’s magic sac was completely depleted. Without magic to balance off of, he was a vegetable. Emira looked up to her baby sister. Mascara was running from her eyes.

“Mittens?”

Amity hushed her. “Don’t worry, I’m here now. Once I get the staff, we’ll have our brother back.”

Emira’s eyes widened fearfully. “Look out!”

Amity jumped out of the way of a red beam that sliced into the floor of the dungeon leaving a deep cut in it. “So you’ve come to stop us?”

Amity clenched her fists. “Mother.”

Odalia held the staff in her hand and it shined its ominous red glow. “Why must you prevent Lord Nyarlathotep’s plans?”

“Mother, can’t you see that Nyarlathotep had corrupted you?” Amity asked “the staff has to be destroyed.”

Odalia shook her head. “I have finally gotten everything that I could have ever hoped for.”

“You’re insane.”

“Because of Lord Nyarlathotep, I have gone up exceedingly on the pecking order of this isle; I am a part of an elite group of magic, and now, with his help, I have become one of the most powerful witches on the Boiling Isles! Maybe even second to the Emperor himself! After years of trying to upkeep the proud Blight name, I am now reaping the benefits of that labor.”

Amity got up on feet. “If you let Nyarlathotep and Belos win, then the family line will die with you.”

Odalia firmly grasped the staff in her hand. “You have always been a perpetual thorn in my side, haven’t you?”

Amity did not respond. Her mother continued her tirade.

“You should be more grateful to your mother that I even allowed you to be born. After all these years molding you until you achieved perfection, you instead chose to throw that all away by continuing to see that half-witch behind my back, and I would have at least loved it that you’d befriend...I don’t know maybe a river troll...but no, once that human vermin encroached on our world, you have always been by her side...Why? Are you really telling me that all that time and energy I put into raising you so you could be the best that you could possibly be was all for naught? You are an insult to the Blight family name.”

Amity shook her head in defiance. “The only insult to our family is you.”

“Is that so? Is that how you really feel?”

Amity nodded whilst gripping the ground.

“Death it is then.”

Odalia shot fire balls from the staff in a flurry. Amity instinctively dodged them and shot ice from her finger tips. It quickly froze the balls of fire and they dropped to the floor with a loud thud.

Odalia slammed the staff on the ground creating a tremor. The earth opened up to swallow Amity whole. Once more with quick thinking, the witch girl fell into the hole but bounced back. Odalia stared into the crevice seeing that she created a barrier that bounced her off.

“All that talent, spoiled.”

Odalia lifted the gem of the staff to the sky and twirled it. A crackle of sound came from the gem and it began to glow a bright, crimson red as it charged. Odalia flashed a smile and discharged a ball of light. Amity created another barrier this time large enough to cover the cell of the twins. “Stop this at once! Edric and Emira could get in the way!”

Odalia laughed to herself. The barrier was quickly starting to destabilize from the eldritch powers eating away at it. “This magic is infinitely more powerful than the run-of-the-mill variety you have been studying.”

Amity drew more attention to the barrier. She twirled her finger once more and fired it into the barrier. Holes began to form inside of the barrier which the witch girl tried to fight by hardening it. Sweat was beating down from Amity’s forehead. Her fingers started chafing from the prolonged time she put into resealing the barrier. She sensed the magic being cast from her magic sac was draining slowly. If it were to completely disappear, Amity would be sure to faint.

“I am going to stop you no matter what!”

Odalia shot more of the alien light at the orb forming. It was readily eclipsing the size of the barrier Amity devised. Amity’s knees clamped together. “Just a little more...”

The barrier shattered sending Amity flying back. Amity’s eyes fluttered open seeing the Blight matriarch approaching her. She went to get off her back, but Odalia pinned her down with the staff. It was pressed firmly on her stomach. The gem once more shined brightly.

“If only you would’ve been a better daughter.”

She lifted the staff up and flipped it. The growing gem reflected in Amity’s eyes. The power inside of it surged and crackled. There was a sudden surge of heat coming from the object. On instinct, Amity rolled over and kicked the end of the staff.

“You brat!”

Odalia made a grab for the gem, but Amity took her other leg and tripped the matriarch with it. Odalia held out her hand but it was too late. The gem made contact with the ground and shattered into millions of pieces. A green mist slithered put of the remnants and entered the cell holding Edric. The gaseous cloud hovered over the boy and entered the orifices of his face.

Edric’s skin returned to its former glory, and when he inhaled, his skin bubbled up as it was filled with the magic it was deprived of. Edric opened his eyes, looking around. “Guys? What’s going on?”

Emira’s eyes widened and she sighed in relief. “Edric!”

Before Edric could say anything, she spontaneously hugged him. “You’re crushing my ribs.”

Odalia screamed and clung onto the pieces of the destroyed staff. In her blind anger, she grabbed Amity by her neck and lifted her in the air. “You ungrateful, insolent, self-absorbed brat!”

Amity grabbed her mother’s hands attempting to pry them off her. “Lord Nyarlathotep will be most displeased when I tell him what you have done!”

A crackle grabbed their attention. On the ground, another mist was growing. It widened into a flat circle and opened up. “What is this??”

The hole began to suck whatever was in its path inside it. The sound of legions of flutes emitted from the hole now understood to be a portal. It had the two warring family members in its proximity and was sucking them in. Amity grabbed the cell bar for dear life. “What if that is Nyarlathotep’s dimension? Then that means...”

“Whatever Nyarlathotep had in that dimension was likely feeding on Edric’s magic,” Emira interrupted. She shook. “And I think they’re still hungry.”

Amity’s finger tips were starting to give way. She walked timidly so she could be close enough to grab another bar. Odalia grabbed her. “If those monsters are hungry, you will satiate their hunger!”

The older woman ripped Amity’s hold of the bar and tossed her on the ground. The pressure of the portal grabbed the rim of her shirt to draw her in. Her legs flailed around to catch solid ground.

“Mittens!” the twins shouted.

Odalia observed her daughter’s struggling with indifference and turned to walk away. Black tentacles burst through the portal’s opening and, for some indiscernible reason, bypassed the witch girl and instead grabbed a hold of Odalia’s legs.

“What? Me!?”

It jerked Odalia on the ground, flopping her on her chest. She sunk her long fingernails into the ground. “No, you can’t have me! My bloodline! You cannot do this to me, I am a BLIGHT!!”

But what Odalia did not understand was that there existed beings of unknowable shape and form, some that are older than the universe itself, and they give little thought to the status of the person they are interacting with. The Boiling Isles itself and all the witches within were small specks of dust that the gods would step on without malice but cannot be burdened with our conventional morality.

The tentacles jerked harder on her legs. The once proud matriarch of the Blight family was now reduced to a powerless bully who was begging for her life. Her fingernails scrapped the floor leaving marks in it when the final pull was administered. She shrieked one final time before becoming engulfed by the portal and disappeared. Amity plopped on the ground her heart beating fast.

“Where do you think it sent her?” Edric asked.

“Who knows,” Amity replied. “But now that it’s over, time to get you both out.”

Unbeknownst to them, their mother was ripped from the demon realm and was cast into a dimension outside of space-time, the unfathomable void that the Outer Gods made their domain. It is there where Odalia’s mind would melt from the presence of the gods and she would be an unintelligible mess and the fibre of her being would be shredded for eternity.

[spacewalkerprincess]

How supernatural should have ended: Destiel addition

Dean walked over to Sam, dodging people as they walked by so he wouldn’t drop the variety of pies he bought. He plopped down next to his brother and smiled to himself as he took the first bite of a cherry pie. As he swallowed, he felt a set of eyes staring at him. He looked over to see Sam, annoyed as always.

“What?” Dean asked, his mouth full of cherries. “Oh… did you want some?”

He clumsily held out the box of pies towards Sam so that he could take his pick. A devilish grin flashed over Sam’s face as he got an idea. Before Dean could process what was happening, a cream pie was splattered over his face. He heard Sam snickering to himself as he wiped the pie from his cheek and stuck his finger in his mouth. For a moment, he was mad at Sam for wasting a piece of pie, but it tasted too good to stay mad, even if it was slathered across his face. He shook his head like Miracle did when his fur got wet, splattering the loose cream onto Sam’s face. Sam groaned, but as he looked over at Dean, who still had cream all over his face, he couldn’t help but laugh. Not long after, Dean joined in until the both of them were hunched over in a fit of laughter.  

It was Dean who went silent first. A pained expression flashed across his face as his jaw tightened. Sam looked over to his older brother in confusion.

“What is it?” he questioned.

Dean breathed in a shaky breath. “The last time…” he began, but paused to hold in tears, not wanting to show Sam how badly he was breaking inside. “The last time we laughed like that… Cas and Jack were still here.”

A sad smile spread across Sam’s lips and he nodded as if agreeing with his brother. Dean hadn’t said it in words, but Sam knew what he meant. “I miss them too.”

“Do you know what Cas’ last words were, Sam?” asked Dean, his voice cracking. His eyes began to water at the memory of Castiel’s death. Sam shook his head, waiting for Dean to continue. “Goodbye, Dean,” he recites.

The meaning was lost on Sam, he didn’t know how much those words meant or the feelings that were behind them, but he continues to listen.

“I didn’t stop him. He sacrificed himself for me again and I didn’t stop him,” Dean added more to himself than to Sam. Tears were starting to brim in his eyes.

Sam placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder to comfort him. He knew how hard Cas’ death was for himself and he couldn’t imagine how Dean was feeling. “You said you didn’t know what he was doing until it was too late. It’s not your fault, Dea—”

“—I should’ve known,” he adds, cutting Sam off, his voice and his eyes filled with desperation. “I was so stupid. I didn’t know. I should’ve known.”

“Known what?!” Sam blurted out. He was getting worried. It was a rarity seeing Dean in this state.

“I should’ve known that Cas loved me!” Dean yelled back before he could filter himself. He took deep breaths in and out, trying to calm himself down. When he looked up, Sam was staring at him in disbelief. It wasn’t until now that Dean realized why he was so upset; a realization he couldn’t yet accept.

“He was in love with me, Sam, and I didn’t say it back,” Dean said. “I didn’t say it back.”

It was in that moment, as a tear fell down Dean’s cheek, that Sam realized what was going on: it wasn’t just Castiel who had unresolved feelings. His heart ached for his friend, wishing he was here with them. His heart ached for Cas, who died without knowing if Dean loved him back. His heart ached for Dean, who never would get to say those words to him.

Lost in his thoughts, Sam hadn’t noticed Dean get up from the bench. Dean staggered towards the trees, his thoughts spiraling as he pushed through the branches to an opening in the woods. He felt like he might faint, unsure of what to do with all of the feeling happening within him. He steadied himself against a tree, the bark rough against his jacket, and looked up to the sky which was shadowed by tree branches.

“Cas…” he breathed out. “I know you can’t hear prayers where you are, but I’m gonna pretend like you can cause I might go crazy if I don’t.”

He chuckled softly to himself, fondly thinking of all of the things he’d want to say to Cas if he could actually hear him or better yet, if he was there with him. Oh how he wished Cas was there with him.

“I know that I couldn’t have stopped you from sacrificing yourself even if I wanted to, but I have some things I wish I could have said to you before… well, you know,” he spoke. He laughed in an attempt to keep his emotions at bay but failed miserably as his breath caught in his throat.

The words he wanted to say felt heavy on his tongue. His feelings had been pushed down for so long that he didn’t know how to say them out loud— it felt foreign to him. He looked up at the sky again, even though he knew Cas wasn’t there—It was enough for him to pretend like Castiel was listening.

           “All of these years, I thought that you were another person that I couldn’t have. When we met, you didn’t even believe in humanity. I always knew that there was good in you, but I didn’t know that you’d end up being my best friend… my family. I didn’t know that you’d not only end up being good but being the best person that I know…” Dean smiled to himself before he continued. “The first time you told Sam and I that you loved us, I didn’t think it was in that way. The human way. I didn’t think that angels could even love in that way, but you proved me wrong. Damn did you prove me wrong…”

“I know you can’t hear me, but I thought I’d tell you…”  He smiled softly to himself as he breathed out the words, “I love you—”

A tear fell down his cheek as the wind around him picked up, swaying tree branches back and forth.

Suddenly the woods were still, the wind ceasing. It was completely silent.

Whoosh.

Dean whipped his head towards the sound, quickly wiping the tears from his cheeks. As he turned, he noticed a flash of beige. It wasn’t until he had fully turned to face the sound that he realized that the beige color he had seen was coming from a familiar trench coat.

“C-Cas?" Dean stuttered out, his mouth agape. He looked around in shock, unsure if he could trust that this was actually him.

“Is it really you?” Castiel stepped forward, causing Dean to lean back in caution. “How are you here?”

Castiel eyes softened as he looked over at Dean. “Jack owed me a favor.”

“Cas, I—”

“You don’t have to say it, I heard your prayer,” he whispered, a small grin forming on his lips as he thought of the first time that he had said those words. They had been here before, but this time, their love shown above the surface instead of hiding in their hearts.

Only Cas could have known about this memory Dean realized and in a split second, his walls came crashing down. He took a stride forward, wrapping Castiel in his arms. Castiel smiled against Dean’s shoulder and held Dean as close as he could.

They held each other for what felt like an eternity before pulling away. It took a second for Dean to register everything that had just occurred and when it finally did, his cheeks flushed bright red.

“So…you heard all of that?” Dean asked sheepishly. When Castiel nodded, Dean coughed uncomfortably and puffed up his chest, trying to rescue what was left of his tough image, but when Castiel chuckled, his walls came tumbling down once again. He couldn’t pretend with him.

Dean looked over at the man he loved, his heart swelling with relief that he was back. “Thank you for saving me.”

Castiel met his eyes and took his large hand in his. “You’re worth saving… You always have been,” he uttered, truly believing his words.

And for the first time in his life, Dean believed it, too.

[1zashreena1]

I Am Having a Snuggle -10

18+, m/f, technically OCxDiego Jimenez [Power]

Summary: Princess doesn’t sleep much after her long distance meltdown. Soft Murder Panther to the rescue! Well, except for that one hard part.

WARNINGS: Ridiculous descriptions and ‘the code is more like guidelines’ outlook on grammar. Is it OOC if the character was given essentially zero development in canon???

FEELS. SMUT (aka The Good Stuff), the L word, plus size woman+fit man, soft!Diego (srsly disgusting and if you bring it up later he will stab you), coddled Princess, mentions of... The Belt*tm,  is a relationship happening?? apparently. Leftover high school Spanish.

A/N:  Princess took on a life of her own and has essentially become an OC. There are infrequent mentions of her description (specifically as plus size) and her actual name in later pieces (its Bicki). She started as self-insert so she looks like me (plus size, white, short, blue eyes, curly hair). If that is not your thing, I totally understand. And do not feel obligated to read this, I will not be offended!

I’m not a fan of “plot” so be aware that most of this series is just meandering through their relationship, angst-fluff-smut whiplash style. But with dick jokes.

Special thanks to @chelsfic for the shared Diego headcanons re: coffee preferences. ILY Mommy

TAGLIST: @chelsfic @symbiont13 @nicke0115 @bunnykjm @rosee-sensuelle @girlpornparadise @mandoplease @heresathreebee @xxsteph-enrixx @jetiikad @joalsglasses @mutantcookiesecrets @demoncatstone @squidlywiddly87 @lockedoutofmyotherblog @poeedamerons

You snap awake with a gasp. What woke you up? You lay there for a second, holding your breath and listening. With your vision being so horrible your hearing is a much more reliable sense. Its pitch black tonight, no moonlight breaking through the cloud cover. You don't keep any ambient lighting on while you sleep so you couldn't see anything if you tried.

There. A soft bang outside somewhere. Then another. It almost sounds like car doors. I wonder if the baby is sick again and First Floor Mark is taking her to the hospital?

Your worry is cut short when you jolt to full awareness because your apartment door is opening. You flip over to your back and dive for the nightstand. Glasses first, Smithfield 911 second. You sit up to brace yourself against the wall and hold the gun in your lap, fingering the safety. 

The door closes and you hear it being locked. 

With a heaved sigh you make sure the safety is on and wait. Heavy footsteps come ever closer to your bedroom and you can see the light of his phone before he appears in your doorway.

Diego freezes when he sees you sitting up in bed. Then he smiles. Wide and sparkling in the low light, you can't see them but you know the dimples are there.

"Princess, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you." He greets you warmly, voice like liquid velvet, wrapping you in heated comfort. You can tell he is wearing most of a suit, the jacket is gone, but you have no idea what color. His collar is unbuttoned. That's not distracting at all.

You arch one brow and struggle not to smirk. "Damnit Diego, you almost got shot." You display the gun, barrel pointed to the ceiling.

He rumbles lowly at you, purring in pleasure, as he spreads his arms open. "Princess, that is hot. Come here, now!"

With a bark of laughter you drop the gun to the bed and launch yourself at him. He staggers back a step but catches you securely. You wrap all your limbs around him and squeeze. His hands cup your ass and he returns the gesture with enthusiasm. Diego turns his face into yours, you know exactly what he wants and you give it to him with no hesitation. 

His lips are soft but his beard is all scratchy tickles. You delight in the contrasting textures, moaning softly as you try to merge your bodies into one entity. His left hand climbs up your back to squeeze your neck right where you always carry all of your tension. 

"Ohhhhhh..." Your mouth drops open and you go boneless in his grip. He gives no quarter and shuts you up with his tongue while his groan vibrates against your chest. Your nipples respond with alacrity. 

He tastes like coffee and chocolate, maybe a hint of cinnamon. What the hell did he eat? You can't get enough of it. 

You never favored long bouts of kissing, makeout sessions were too intimate and your previous partners were more than happy to skip right to the main event. But its different with Diego. He doesn't drool on you and his mouth is consistently at least ten degrees hotter than your own. He always tastes like coffee and some outlandishly ridiculous flavored creamer. The instant a new variety of non-dairy creamer is released he has to try it. His child-like excitement over it is incredibly endearing to witness.

You sink both hands into his hair to pull him back. His eyes are huge and you watch with rapt attention as he licks his bottom lip. "Princess. Bed. Now." He croaks, nodding his own head like he's trying to peer pressure you into consenting. 

Completely unnecessary, baby. 

"Yeah." Your soft whimper is stupidly needy. Only Diego does this to you. Has this effect on you. You feel like the cover of a really bad romance novel. A strumpet. The ludicrous term makes you giggle. You gaspingly add another request, "But naked!"

Diego jumps into motion and takes two huge steps to the bed. You're already fighting with the buttons on his shirt and you don't quit as he lays you down on your back. There is only absolute faith that he won't drop you. 

The moment you're down his hands go to your cami, fingers sliding under the elastic band of the shelf bra and gathering the whole thing up to go over your head. You have to let go of him for a split second so he can fully remove it and that makes you whine unhappily. Diego tosses the shirt over his shoulder carelessly and smushes both of your breasts together to attempt a self-smothering. You laugh breathlessly until he latches onto a nipple.

"Ohhhhhh. Fuck. Yeah. Yeahhh." Nice porn moan, only practicing self-affirmation here. You still can't believe this works. The strong suckling sensations go straight to your cunt. No wonder other women always said they liked it. This is unique to Diego, too. He is the only person that your body has ever responded to in this. Sure, you liked your breasts fondled, squeezed, compressed utterly flat. But your nipples? No, they had some kind of epiphany the first time Diego sealed his lips around one and sucked.

You pet over his hair and he rumbles into your skin, the vibrations make your back arch. Your hands push on his shirt collar. You wanted bare skin earlier, now you need it. His hands disappear, then so does his shirt, but the attention to your nipple never falters. His sneaky fingers snake down over your stomach, he pauses to squeeze the squishy middle, then continue to your pants.

"No!" You yelp and Diego freezes. He releases your harried nipple to look up at you in puzzlement. 

With his brows drawn together he questions you, "Princess. What is--"

You don't let him finish. "Take your damn pants off right fucking now! I missed you, not your clothes!" You even sound frantic to yourself. Desperate. And you don't care.

He growls at you but straightens up and reaches for his belt. 

Oh god. His belt. Your gulp is audible. Its the same belt from that time he detained you on the jet. Spanked you delirious with it and then fucked you over a seat. All as punishment, of course, for sending a booty pic to Julio. You spent the next day on your belly while Diego torturously worshiped your ass. It was amazing.

His slow, evil smile confirms that he witnessed the entire memory play out across your face. That predatory stare never leaves yours as he opens the buckle and whips the soft leather free of the pant loops. He holds the belt up in the air, then drops it to the floor off the side of the bed. "Next time, Princess. We have the whole flight together. Maybe this time I'll make you keep count of how many times you come."

The threatening promise (promising threat??) makes you keen, high and piercing. Diego laughs at your obvious need, but he resumes stripping at a faster pace. You pop upright to get your pants off and complete the maneuver just in time to witness his cock achieve freedom. Before either one of you realizes it your hand is wrapped around him.

Diego collapses forward into you but catches himself on his hands before you get crushed. Not a bad way to go. You think. Crushed by hottest criminal sugar daddy with a heart of gold just for her. A beautiful obituary. 

You tighten your fingers around him; each one individually and in consecutive order, creating a rippling effect. He drops his forehead to your shoulder with a purr. You turn into his face to nuzzle up along his jawline. "Baby," you breathe, punctuating it with a long lick up the shell of his ear. "I missed you. So. Much."

His answering growl triggers violent shivers. He uses those wide shoulders to force you down onto your back. Planting one knee on the bed between your legs, he insinuates both hands under your ribcage and shoulders to slide you up the bed. His hands are so massive that they span the entire width of your back. That fact should scare you, instead you feel secure, even treasured, with how gently he handles you. He can be delightfully rough, you've been on the receiving end of that before. But right now is Soft Murder Panther hours.

He has to move up with you because you are not relinquishing that magnificent erection. 

"Princess," he rumbles directly into your ear, "Let go now or you will be disappointed later. I spent the entire flight thinking about every soft inch of you. Need to be inside you. Nowww." His confession ends in a breathy sigh as he begins pressing kisses over your entire face. 

You reach up to take off your glasses but he's already there, holding them by the frame around the lenses and not the easily bent arms. You blink back tears as you watch him stretch over to set them on your nightstand exactly how you do it. 

When he comes back you cradle his face with your hands, holding him still so you can just take this all in. His eyes search your face, looking for any hint of discomfort as he rests more of weight onto you. You nod gently and he gingerly, deliberately gives you the rest of his bulk. His presence drowns out everything else. All you know is Diego. Everything you ever wanted.

With minimal effort you guide him down until his forehead meets yours. He whimpers softly for you and your hands pet down his stubbled cheeks. This kiss is no less passionate than the wild ones earlier but somehow sweeter. You open your eyes to find him watching you, gaze unguarded and face completely open.

You stroke over his cheeks again, one thumb gliding along his plush lower lip. Diego nips your thumb, then engulfs it in his mouth to suck. Your moan is pure need, "Please, baby."

His hips roll and you feel the underside of his shaft rub the entire length of your labia. You arch and move with him this next time. The third pass lands the perfect angle and his thick heat spreads you wide. Your mouth opens but no sound comes out as you press your head back into the bed. He keeps pushing until you're completely filled. And then he pushes a little more. Just enough. 

You gasp in a shuddering breath and your back arches off the bed while you clench down around him in waves. He groans long and low as he watches you come on him. "Ohh, Bonita. Good girl."

Your quiet huff of laughter dissolves into a moan as he sets a steady pace. Long, solid strokes so you can feel every glorious inch, an inexorable push on your cervix every time he bottoms out. Your fingers claw into his shoulders, clinging like your life depends on it.

He burrows into your neck to sear your skin with his beard, soothing the burn with soft licks and velvet kisses. "Princess. Diego's perfect little princess. Its good? Tell me." He pants, open-mouthed and greedy.

You nod into his hair. "Perfect. Is perfect. You're perfect." He shakes his head 'no', rubbing his face on you. His right hand reaches down, gripping your thigh with purpose. He pulls your leg up, wrapping it around his waist, the other follows of its own accord. His knees spread, widening his stance and shifting the angle of his thrusts. Incredibly, he manages to get deeper inside you. Without a conscious command your mouth opens to spill out pure desperation and mangled ecstasy. "Yes, baby. All of you. Give me everything…"

He drops frenzied kisses all over your face while you two share the same air. His tone turns emotional, raspier, "Want to. Please. Please, please, please let me. Take care of my princess, be better. Just for you. Please, mi amor." 

That's new. New and heart-wrenching. You can't decide if its being used as a pet name or a declaration. It doesn't matter, the agonizing emotion behind it still makes you seize up with pleasure. He moans in approval, moving continuously throughout your entire climax. Just as your back begins to loosen he accelerates his thrusts, driving you right back up into another orgasm. You realize the ringing in your ears is actually a noise being made by your mouth.

"Yes, Princess. Come for me. Let Diego please this pretty little pussy." I am never going to regret admitting that I love his dirty talk. You congratulate yourself for that moment of successful communication. Diego hasn't shut up since then and you are so very grateful. 

He sweeps hands down your sides to grasp your hips. Even at your current size 16 his fingers still curve around both your front and back. He makes you feel small and delicate, vulnerable and fiercely protected. Cherished. Loved.

He half kneels under you, pulling your pelvis into his lap. Every intense, short thrust hits your g-spot and makes your vision swim. Your trembling never stops, its just constant rolling pleasure. You reach up for him, needing to be joined together endlessly. The muscles in his arms ripple and contract as he scoops you up. 

He has you sitting upright in his lap, legs around his waist and your arms tight behind his neck. Your entire weight rests on his left arm under your butt, holding you steady while he thrusts up into you with abandon. The right arm climbs up your back for him to thread fingers into your curls and press your forehead to his. Your mouth hangs open while you sob in bliss. 

"Si, Princess. Dame uno mas, come for your Diego. Be mine." You have no defense for his fierce begging whispered directly into your face. 

"Diego. Diego, baby, yes I-I-" Your voice cuts out as your orgasm sends you into convulsions. He presses your hips down fast to his so he can pump his own climax deep with a gravelly moan. 

He collapses forward, both of you dropping to the bed like a stone, then proceeds to just lay on you and pant. After an undefinable amount of time, Diego rubs his cheek against yours. He is purring again, the deep vibrations rumble through your chest. You pet over his hair, scratching his scalp with your short, practical nails. His back arches and his hips roll; he's still buried deep inside you. "Princessss. Bicki. Mi amor." His sigh is content.

You kiss his temple. Murmuring breathlessly to him, "Love you too, Murder Panther." You nuzzle into his beard, relishing all the textures. His breath catches, then his chest heaves. He pulls back from you, extricating his limbs so he can flop onto his side next to you. Your head turns for a kiss and he is already there, sealing his mouth to your own languidly.

 With one last fleeting peck to your chin, he rolls you onto your side and pulls you back against him in one fluid movement. Your head is pillowed on his left bicep and you wrap his right arm up tight to your chest. The entire length of his body is spooned up behind you. Instead of being suffocating you find it soothing. His soft little snuffling snores lull you back to sleep.

I am having a snuggle.

[baphomet-media]

Dad of Boy - A God of War (2018) Review

Genre: Adventure

Subgenre: 3D Adventure

Developer: SIE Santa Monica Studio

Publisher: Sony Interactive Entertainment

Platform(s): PS4

Release Date: April 20th, 2018

I have never played a God of War game before. Though I know the basic gist of the story (Kratos kills all of the Greek pantheon before they can kill him through powers of rage), that’s about it. Still, I saw nothing but praise for the new game, and the setting, story, and gameplay that I saw intrigued me. I got the game as a gift a short while ago, after it seemed to collectively drop off the media’s radar, and eventually decided to give it a shot. So, does it live up to the hype? Let’s dig in.

Story

God of War 2018 (GoW18) takes place many years after the events of the previous games. Kratos, the former bloodthirsty deicidal barbarian Ghost of Sparta has moved to a new land of giants, dwarves, and Norse gods, and has settled down with a wife and child. But Kratos cannot run away from his godhood forever, and things catch up with him one day after his wife dies, when a mysterious stranger shows up at Kratos’s door. The two engage in a brutal fight, with Kratos seemingly emerging victorious. Kratos and his young son Atreus then must set off to take Kratos’s wife’s ashes to the top of the tallest peak in all the realms.

Along the way, Kratos teaches his son about how to survive in the world, in his own gruff way, of course. The interplay between Kratos’s grim and serious nature contrasts delightfully with Atreus’s impatience and youthful energy. Various other friendly and hostile faces present themselves throughout the story, with the highlights being dwarf brothers Brok and Sindri, two dwarf smiths with clashing personalities that spend most of the game passive-aggressively bickering about how horrible of a smith the other is, but actually do their best work together. The supporting cast are all fantastic, however the enemies left a lot to be desired, and there were very few actual named enemies, making a lot of the story beats just feeling like they lacked impact, and were instead just stepping stones along Kratos’s way. Still, there were plenty of moments of good humor and intrigue, especially for anyone with an interest in mythology, particularly the Norse variety.

While the game does not have a completely canonical representation of Norse myth, it takes a lot of the established characters and ideas and puts its own grim spin on them. I enjoyed learning a bit about different mythological figures and events, even if the majority of them are merely exposited to the player and make no physical appearance in the game itself. It leaves me wanting more, and hopeful for a sequel.

Gameplay

From what I know about past God of War games, combat used to revolve around Kratos using his Blades of Chaos, two beefy short swords chained together, which he uses to spin, grapple, slam, and juggle hordes of foes. GoW18 takes a different approach, slowing things down and moving the camera over Kratos’s shoulder. His main weapon now is the Leviathan Axe, which excels at one-on-one combat, and can also be thrown and returned for ranged combat. To put it plainly, combat in this game feels a bit more like Dark Souls than Devil May Cry. Longtime fans of the series may be disappointed in the shift in gameplay direction, but as a relative outsider, I found the combat enjoyable. I liked that it made me think about my strikes, blocks, parries, and throws, instead of mindlessly mashing attack buttons to rack up insane combos.

However, combat demands that you stay in control. Even the weakest enemies can drain your health quickly, as Kratos is vulnerable to being stunlocked. Plus (at least on the Hard difficulty, which I played) enemies have a ton of HP, so you’ll need around 5-6 combos to finish off most weaker enemies. It doesn’t help that the beginning of the game only drip-feeds you the controls, so I got killed multiple times on the first enemy because I had no idea that Kratos had a shield or how to dodge properly.

Still, as you progress through the game, the number and strength of enemies increase, but the overall challenge gradually decreases as you unlock new moves and combat options to help you deal more damage, more easily stagger enemies, and better deal with multiple foes. Unfortunately, for most of the game, the combat struggles when there are multiple foes. The lock-on system is extremely reluctant to switch enemies, and it’s sometimes difficult to maneuver, dodge blows, and keep the camera looking where you want all at once. Particularly in boss fights, which are numerous.

Still, when it goes right, using the shield to parry, and landing heavy blows with the Leviathan Axe is very satisfying. Along the way Atreus himself gets more capable in combat, improving his archery, and learning assist moves that distract enemies and set them up for combos by Kratos. You can also command Atreus to shoot arrows and use special abilities, which gives you more options in combat. This starts out being only marginally helpful, but gets much more useful the further you advance in the game, and Atreus also gains abilities that help you progress in the overworld, allowing you to bypass obstacles that Kratos couldn’t deal with on his own.

The game has a fairly expansive world, though this is not so much in the sheer size of the world, but more in that the main area of the world is constantly revealing more depth to it. The Lake of Nine, the game’s main area, is constantly revealing new areas to explore, which constantly keeps it fresh, although sometimes it definitely feels like you’re constantly revisiting the same areas. At most points in the game, you can explore freely, though you may stumble across challenges and enemies that are too difficult for you to tackle at your current power level and need to come back once you’ve powered up by upgrading your gear. On one hand, I like this, because it gives you the option to try instead of just locking out higher-level content, but on the other hand, even if you’re really good at the game, you’ll have a lot of difficulty felling enemies that are even slightly higher in level than you, mostly because their HP is ridiculously high, which leads back into enemies feeling like HP sponges.

Presentation

GoW18 is a gorgeous game to look at, with the scenery being drenched in detail. The various realms that you travel to throughout the game also add differences in visual appeal, keeping things fresh when you’re outside of Midgard.

While the game doesn’t have much in the way of music, the heavy brass and choir vocals on more dark and foreboding tracks remind the listener of Kratos’s violent past, and let you know not to mess with him. You don’t want to be on the receiving end of his Spartan Rage when that music swells!

The voice acting in the game is top-notch. Christopher Judge is great as Kratos, and as a longtime Stargate fan, it’s funny just to see how much Kratos mirrors Judge’s previous role as Stargate’s Teal’c. I also particularly enjoyed the voice acting of the character Mimir, voiced by Alastair Duncan, who exposits his own twisted take on Norse mythology to the father-son duo during travel periods. The rest of the cast are fantastic in their own right, as well.

Conclusion

God of War 2018 is a great game that manages to step out of the shadow of its previous games to create something unique and new for itself. Despite how violent and dark the series is, GoW18 tells a touching story of a father and son getting to know each other better, travelling the world together, and meeting all manner of colorful friends and foes. The combat, while slower and more methodical than previous games and tedious at times on higher difficulties, rewards skillful play and empowers the player more and more as they stick with it.

All in all, if you have a PS4 and like action games, definitely give this one a try. You’ll be glad you did. I look forward to Kratos’s and Atreus’s further adventures on the PS5 when God of War Ragnarok comes out next year!

Score: 8 / 10

[vmheadquarters]

We’re still playing our game of written hot potato! Dozens of your favorite authors are taking turns to tell a Veronica Mars mystery story. Each writer crafts their chapter and then “tosses” the story to the next person to continue the tale. No one knows what will happen, so expect the unexpected!

Follow the “vmhq presents” and “murder we wrote” tags for all the installments, or read the story as it develops on AO3. --Chapter Nineteen of MURDER, WE WROTE is written by @elliebear75​. And stayed tuned next week for Ch.20 from @beezlebobble​ -tag, you’re it!

—————————————————————————————————— CHAPTER NINETEEN by @elliebear75​ 

Della adjusted her blond wig in the mirror, giving a cursory glance up at the screens across the wall. She was more than a little miffed that no one recognized her as the ghost of Lilly Kane yet, all the times she let them get a quick glance at her before she disappeared again into the secret passageways of the house. 

“You’d think that the blond hair and fabulous attitude would be a dead give-away,” she smirked as she followed the action on the screens. 

A tinier than usual Veronica hobbled across the television as fast as she could with Logan as her support.  They crossed from the second screen to the third and stopped near the corner screen when they found Wallace at the bottom of the kitchen stairs, unconscious.  She held her breath and hoped that the trap only winded him as it was supposed to, and not done any real harm.  All it took was a press of a button, and Della sent him flying down the wooden staircase, but instead of just landing on his butt and sliding, like so many others before him had done, Wallace seemed to take the tumble hard, rolling all the way down to the bottom.  A tinge of regret dropped like a stone in her stomach, but she pushed it aside when she saw him come to.  She watched as he wavered when Logan helped him to his feet, but seemed none the worse for wear.   

“Sorry, Wallace.  I had to do it,” she sighed.  “Blame Veronica for getting you into this mess.” 

Wallace had once stood up for her when Madison and Gia cut in front of her in line in the cafeteria, and she didn't want to hurt him; it was just an inevitable consequence of her plan. Like Leo. She didn’t mean for her partner to kill him; it just happened.  Della felt terrible about that as well since he had been instrumental in getting the information she needed to make this plan work. But it wasn’t like she killed him; it was her partner. He just went a little too far. 

Leaning closer to the mirror, she ran her tongue over her teeth and puckered her lips as she checked her lipstick. That retainer was annoying, but her parents were right—she did look better in the long run. In fact, Della looked so good that with some professional make-up tips, contact lenses, and her dyed black hair, hardly anyone recognized her in Neptune anymore.  Which was fine.  When she graduated last Spring, she left Della Pugh behind at Neptune High with the Pirates. 

Now, she was Ruby.  Ruby Jetson. Actually, that wasn't true. During the week, she was Ruby Jetson, a fixture on the Neptune Karaoke circuit. On the weekends, she was Madame X, taking over for her mother, the original Madame X, and father, Mister X, who started this murder mystery business after her grandparents left them this property with no sustainable income to support it.  When she was a child, Della helped her parents set unwitting traps for guests who gleefully screamed at every turn.  With her crooked teeth, frizzy blond hair, and thick glasses, she was born to play the “creepy girl” in the castle. She was pretty proud that she once made a guest pee herself when she appeared in the guest’s bedroom in the middle of the night, dressed in an old-fashioned white dress and powdered make-up as if she was a ghostly apparition and asked the woman if she had "seen her mommy."   

But that was why people had come to the island in the first place—for the thrill. Over the decades, her parents hosted Hollywood celebrities, members of Congress, and even a Prince or two (of the musical variety and actual royalty.) No one at school ever suspected that poor little Della was actually a star, on most weekends.  Unfortunately for her parents, the business didn't clear a lot of money, so her family was never able to move to a house in the 09er area, and that fact had kept Della the perpetual underdog and general bully-bait all through school. 

Veronica Mars wasn’t an 09er either, but somehow, she conquered it all.  And Della hated her for it.  Not an 09er, but she managed to have a best friend and a boyfriend who were—Lilly and Duncan Kane. Oh, and she acted so much like an 09er back then too, gyrating her way onto the Pep Squad thanks to Lilly.  One would have thought that not being one of "them" would have given Veronica some empathy for the little guys, like Della. But when Della caught up to her one day and asked her the reason why Della was rejected from the Pep Squad, Veronica just shrugged and told her to "dance better." 

"Dance better," Ruby snarked at the screens. She leaned over the console and pressed her thumb over Veronica's face, focusing on Logan standing next to her. 

“Logan. Logan freakin’ Echolls. What in the world do you see in her?  Is it the blond hair, because sweetheart, I’m a natural blond too.  Is it the drama, because I can give you drama, baby.  You just never gave me the chance to show you.” 

What really chewed at Ruby was even after Lilly's death and Veronica’s fall from grace, she still managed to eventually date Logan.  Logan.  The boy who stirred things in young Della (and older Ruby) like no other boy ever had or ever would.  Once in tenth grade, she sat behind Logan in the bleachers at a basketball game and just the sight of the back of his neck kept her dreaming about him for years after. That was one of the advantages of being ignored by most of the student population and her "performances" at the mansion—she became good at flying under the radar.  Logan and that dumbass friend of his, Dick, never noticed her sitting on a blanket on the sand every Sunday morning, watching them surf at Dog Beach.  Never saw her sitting a few rows behind him at the movie theatre. Never noticed her sitting in the lobby of the Neptune Grande the summer after he graduated, as he walked right past her, holding hands with Veronica, looking at her like he would make love to her right there, in front of everyone, if given the opportunity. 

Veronica. 

Again Veronica. 

“I was a freaking teenage outcast too. Why the hell did he have to pick you?” She removed her thumb from over Veronica’s face and hissed at the screen.   

When Veronica disappeared to Stanford, Della took it as a good sign.  But the night she happened to find herself in the same dive bar as Logan and Dick, he was still whining to Dick about how to get on with his life without Veronica. It was pathetic.  Logan was a strong, virile man with so much love to give, and Veronica had crushed his soul...just like she had once crushed young Della’s Pep-Squad dreams.  To see Logan stagger drunkenly out of that bar alone tore her heart to shreds, but also made Ruby hate Veronica even more. She had to be stopped.  Veronica Mars was not the amazing and brilliant girl everyone thought she was. It was all an act.  There was no “magic” to Veronica solving crimes.  Just dumb luck.  The Veronica Mars that Ruby knew was a snob and a fake and an asshole.  She was just very good at making people seem like she was helpful and caring.  And this weekend, Ruby would make sure that everyone realized what a phony Veronica truly was. 

Walking away from the screens, Ruby adjusted her sparkly purple sweater and smoothed down her tight black jeans as she paced, keeping herself moving in the chilly space.  Even though Logan couldn’t see her, she wanted to make sure she dressed her best for him.  Or at least her best so she wouldn’t freeze. 

“The way these So-Cal beach girls are running around in the snow, I’m surprised they all haven’t died of exposure,” she laughed, pausing to run her hand over the soft nap of her fake-fur coat, hanging on the wall near the door. 

It all started when Jen decided to bring on Cindy “Mac” Mackenzie to help her on the weekends.  Ruby immediately recognized her through the surveillance screens as the poor girl who had the unfortunate luck to be dating Cassidy Casablancas and be friends with Veronica Mars.  As she listened in on Jen and Mac gossiping during their time on the island, she realized that she could orchestrate an even bigger production from even further behind the scenes, one that could right one big wrong in her life.  Ruby could lure Veronica and all the people she hated most in school right here, onto her turf, the island with no 09 in the zip code. Then, one by one, she could torment them as she had been tormented by them in school.  She would deprive them of food, of sleep, of any sort of psychological rest, and see as they all began to turn on Veronica for not saving their sorry asses. For one weekend, Veronica would be Enid Curtis and know what it truly meant to be the loser, just like Della was for years in school. 

Glancing back, Ruby smiled as the players all scurried across the screens.  “Who’s dancing for who now, Veronica?  Just keep practicing.  You’ll get better at this murder-mystery thing.” 

It was all going according to plan.  Well, almost. The only thing that wasn’t to plan was Leo.  And Madison.  She didn’t really mean for them to die.  It seemed that her “muscle” in this venture ended up being a bit of a loose cannon, something Ruby didn’t really account for. But then again, Jen had proved herself to be mildly unreliable as well.  As Madam X, Ruby left exact instructions about who to invite tonight. The fact that Duncan Kane appeared was as a surprise to her as the rest of the guests. 

The door to the control room opened, and Della spun on her heels, watching as the figure shook the snow off his black parka hood and stomped his heavy boots off on the ground. 

"Okay. I got rid of that Deputy's body and hid it where you told me."  Lenny Sopher removed his hood and ran his fingers through his hair.  "Now what?" 

"Now? Now we wait.  And you stop killing people.”  Ruby folded her arms over her chest, protecting herself from the chill Lenny brought in with him. 

His throaty chuckle resonated in the small room.  Slowly, methodically, he peeled off his parka and hung it on the old wooden hook, next to Ruby’s. 

“Look, you have your fun with them, and I’ll have mine.” 

“I just want to expose Veronica as a dumb-bitch, so Logan finally realizes he’s better off without her and moves on.  Make her a laughing-stock.  Possibly make Gia Goodman wet herself with fear.  But that last one is a pie-in-the-sky sort of fun.  You’re out there actually killing people, and it’s not cool.” 

“Not cool?” Lenny turned, a smirk crossing his face as his fingers made air-quotes in front of his face.  “Not cool?  What the hell was I supposed to do?  When Leo recognized me from that forgery thing last summer, he threatened to take me in. I had to do it so I could stay on the island and help you!” 

Ruby tossed her fake blond hair over her shoulder and huffed.  “Well, you didn’t have to kill Madison.  I mean, I didn’t like her, but still, it was overkill.” 

A sharp laugh rose from Lenny’s throat that rolled and rolled in a way that terrified Ruby. It wasn’t a laugh of a person who thought this was humourous—it was the laugh of a man who was enjoying himself immensely.

“Overkill! That’s a good one, Della!” 

“Ruby!” She stamped her foot and gasped. “You know what my name is now, you jackass.  Now, stop killing people for real or I’ll…” 

“Or you’ll what?”  The laughter stopped, and the grin fell from Lenny’s face in an instant. “Or…you’ll…what, Ruby?  Call the police? On your favorite cousin? Plus, you're what you call my accomplice now.  Hell, with all the Madame X stuff linked directly to your side of the family, I can even say you’re the one who did all this.” 

Ruby stiffened as Lenny approached, trying not to show any fear.  He sniffed the air like a dog, and she cringed, knowing he was mongrel enough that he could probably smell it on her. 

“So, you continue to play your game, Ruby-Della-X.  And let me play mine.”

[insfiringyou]

BTS - ‘Can we work out together more often?’ (Jungkook x Young-soon)

Contains: Smut. Fluff. Slight angst. Oral sex. 69. Vaginal sex. Anal play.

This takes place around 6 months after Young-soon finds out Jungkook cheated on her (but before Jin’s wedding).

To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here:

RM   /   Jin /   Suga /   J-Hope   /   Jimin   /   V   /   Jungkook

& Our full masterlist can be found here

Rated content below the cut

Jungkook took a quick glance at Young-soon as she walked around the room, her reflection bouncing back several times through the line of mirrors which adorned one wall. The grey gym shirt she wore clung attractively to her curves, stopping just below her visible cleavage and above her toned stomach. Her baggy pants were likewise low-riding, stopping just above her hipbones.  His brown eyes dipped for a fraction of a second to her bellybutton before he forced himself to look away.

The last time she had visited his new apartment, the week before, the sex had been slow and uncomfortably tense. He had been desperate to feel some warmth in her actions and had pressed his lips to her chest as he thrust into her gently, trailing them along her neck until he reached the sharp line of her jaw. He wanted to touch his mouth to hers, to show her how he felt about her with something other than his cock, but her face was turned away; her soft, pleasured cries and the firm, reassuring grasp of her arms around his shoulders the only indicator that she was enjoying this. But at least they were having sex again. She hadn’t kissed him until the end, when his body shook against hers with his rough, drawn-out orgasm. It was brief but passionate and filled him with hope that things could get better.

Circling the room, Young-soon didn’t seem to notice his awkward glances at her body, instead eyeing up the equipment which lined the room. “There’s a lot more variety than at my gym…” She brushed her hand over the handle of the static bicycle before turning to meet his gaze. He had moved into the new apartment the month before but, until this day, she had not ventured into the gym.

“Is that why you quit?” He asked with curiosity, a shy smile tugging on his lips.

She shook her head. “The new trainer is a bit creepy.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. An expected wave of concern washed over him which he tried to ignore. He was certain she could take care of herself, but the thought of another man coming onto her made him frustratingly jealous. Furthermore, he wasn’t sure whether this stab of emotion was warranted or even wanted since he was not sure whether he and Young-soon were officially together. The last six months had been agonisingly difficult but he knew he didn’t have a right to complain, after all, it was his entire fault. Sex or no sex, she had not yet indicated that she had forgiven him. Jungkook tried to shake his trail of thought and nodded towards one of the new machines in the corner of the room. “Did you want to go on the cross-trainer?” He asked.

“We should stretch first.” She moved into the centre of the room where a row of soft mats had been placed for this purpose.

“Shall I put some music on?” He offered, walking over to the inbuilt stereo and selecting a track at random from his workout playlist. The opening of 7 Rings blared through the speakers, making her jump. With an apologetic smile, he turned down the volume and joined her on the mats, stretching his calves with the support of his hands, one at a time. He tried to focus on himself, but his eyes slipped over to the mirror in front of them where he met her gaze briefly before flicking once more to the tops of her breasts. She was bending forward, massaging her thighs in kneading motions to loosen up the muscles and the action caused her shirt to ride down a little. If she noticed him looking, she didn’t say anything, instead straightening up and walking over to the cross-trainer. He followed her and climbed on the matching machine beside it. 

She smirked. “Why do you have two of everything?”

“I only have one treadmill…” He argued softly as they warmed up. He noticed she was trying her best to keep up with him and subconsciously pushed himself harder, speeding up. “Sometimes my trainer comes over.” He explained.

They carried on for ten minutes in almost silence until she finally slowed down and stepped off the pedals. Jungkook slid off beside her and fetched their water bottles from the other side of the room, taking a large gulp of his own. When he turned, he noticed her struggling with the shoelace of her sneaker which had gotten caught in one of the pedals and he helped unravel her, bending down when it was done to tie the shoe back up for her. She thanked him quietly with a small smile before taking a few sips from her bottle; her chest shone with perspiration, a few beads of sweat collecting between her breasts. They headed towards the rowing machines and sat down.

“It’s not a competition.” She warned, raising an eyebrow at him as he grasped the handle.

“Oh…” He murmured with a blush. “I didn’t realise. Do you want me to keep time with you?” He offered.

She smirked. “It’ll be easier than keeping time with you.” She slid her sneakers into the foot-holes and leaned forward. “I’ll pull my triceps.” She said as an afterthought as he adjusted the settings on his machine to increase the resistance. They pulled in time, listening to the whirr of the cogs as they straightened up.

He attempted to make conversation. “How’s your assistant at work?” He asked casually, glancing sideways.

“Why do you ask?”

He shrugged. “It’s hard being new.”

“She’s not new anymore.” She argued lightly. “She’s been there for six months.”

“Is she still making mistakes?”

“All the time…” She sighed, catching his sympathetic expression. “You’re right, it’s hard being new.” She admitted, realising as she said it that she had perhaps been too hard on the girl who was both young and inexperienced. She unhooked her shoes from the pedals and moved to the setting wheel, pushing the catch to a higher number before returning to her position.

“Too easy?” He asked with a grin.

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to try mine?” He flashed his teeth and she laughed, moving off the machine to swap places. She noticed his dial was turned up to the highest setting and, when she pulled, the belt resisted painfully. She let out a loud, dramatic groan as she sat up, straightening her spine with some effort.

“Show off…” She murmured, making him laugh as they switched back. He had put the settings slightly higher on hers, challenging her.

“Is that okay?” He asked, watching as she tested the weight.

“Yeah.” She murmured, feeling the satisfying ache in her upper arms and the drip of sweat on her lower back as she pulled back and forth. Jungkook, beside her, had finally started to perspire a little and he groaned with each backward pull. They both looked tired as they paused their motions but, determined to push through, Young-soon looked around the space at the variety of equipment.

“What now?” Jungkook asked, sensing she was not yet done.

She spotted the oversized red gloves hanging by the line of mirrors. “Boxing?” She suggested with a small smile, slipping them on before he had time to reply.

“I’m not going to hit you…” He said timidly.

She shrugged teasingly and handed him a set of cushioned paddles. “I need to learn how to throw a punch.”

“Why?” He frowned, suddenly remembering the unfortunate incident which had happened on their first date after they had left the funfair. Had it really been over a year since they had met?

“It might come in handy.” She explained.

“Okay…” He agreed, seeing that it wasn’t such a bad idea after all. Not after how close she had come to getting seriously hurt that night. He unfastened the Velcro straps and fixed the paddles to his palms, holding them outstretched at arm’s length. “Don’t go easy on me.” He smiled.

“I won’t.”

She started to pant with exhaustion as she realised Jungkook was not letting up on the pace of his counts.

“One two, one two, one two…” He called rhythmically as she punched with as much energy as she could muster. “You can go harder.” He offered with a small, toothy grin. “One, two, one two…”

She grunted, pushing herself as hard as she could go, ignoring the drips of sweat that poured from her face into the crevices of her clothes.

“Don’t give up…” He warned.

“I’m not.” She protested with a groan, her teeth bared and gritting together like a wild animal. Her long, dark hair clung damply to her forehead, the ends of her ponytail stuck to the skin between her exposed shoulder blades as she hit with as much might as she could muster, feeling frustrated with both herself and the man opposite her when he did not move back with the force.

“Keep going…” He seemed to be enjoying this, which only made her angrier. She moved forward, breaking the stance she had kept for the past fifteen minutes in an attempt to push him back. She felt the hot sting of sweat in her eyes as it dripped from her furrowed brow and blinked it away, unable to see clearly as her glove slipped over the edge of the paddle and connected with something hard on the other end.

“Ah!” Jungkook cried out, taking a leap back as she staggered forwards awkwardly, ripping off the gloves and smoothing the stringy strands of wet hair away from her face. She realised what had happened and felt her chest drop.

“Was that intentional?” Jungkook asked in a muffled tone, his voice obscured by the hand which covered his nose. He had dropped both paddles to the floor and was crouched over, his face level with her torso.

“I’m sorry…”  She called out weakly. “I slipped.” She continued to pant, out of breath and unable to move, horrified at the thought of hurting him.

“It’s okay…” He murmured softly, his face scrunched up in pain as he moved his hand away from the bridge of his nose, being careful not to bash it again. She felt a wave of relief flood through her when she saw he was not bleeding. “I deserved it.” He winced apologetically.

It took her a moment to work out what he was trying to say, realising that he was referring to what had happened over half a year before. Her breath finally slowed as she looked down at him. His eyes were dark.

“Yes…you do.” She admitted blankly, feeling her chest ache as she said it. His eyes had started to water; an aftereffect of the blow, and she sighed deeply. “Let’s take a look.” She murmured gently, taking a step forward and holding out her hand, meaning to touch his shoulder. Instead, his hand flew to her arm, curling gently around her wrist as he slipped a foot under her leg, unbalancing her and wrestling her to the floor. The mat was soft beneath her damp back and her ponytail fanned around her face as he crawled on top of her, pinning her to the ground with his fleshy thighs. She starred at him in surprise, her breath hot and heavy against his face as he met her gaze, his face inches from hers, waiting to see if she would protest. His palms were warm against her skin but his touch was light and she was sure she could wriggle from his grasp if she wanted.

“That was uncalled for.” She said breathlessly, her voice stern.  His scent seeped attractively from his pores; the woody scent of his deodorant mixed with the bitter, cocoa aftershave he wore and, beneath that, the not-unpleasant scent of his sweat and something else; something which smelled like arousal and desire. 

He hesitated. “What are you going to do about it?” He eventually asked, the warmth of his breath against her cheeks making her skin tingle pleasantly. She was unable to read the tone of his voice and, before she had time to think through his meaning, she was leaning forward, raising her head to open her lips passionately against his. It took him a moment to realise what was she doing before he pressed against her, resting his weight on his forearms as he sank into her touch. He let go of her wrists and her fingers found themselves tangled in his hair, smoothing and tugging his damp locks roughly as she moaned into his mouth, biting his lower lip almost hard enough to draw blood. He groaned, unable to help it as his hips jolted against her; the feel of her body against his crotch causing him to stir in his pants.

Their tongues met heatedly and she grasped his waist tightly, using all of her strength to maneuver him onto his back. She clasped her thighs around him, needing to spread them wide to sit comfortably.  Momentarily breaking their kiss, he let out a gasp before pulling her snugly against him. She felt his palms on her backside, grasping her arse roughly through her jogging pants before placing a hard spank on one side. The sound echoed around the paneled room, merging with the low beat of pop music which played through the speakers. She let out a surprised moan at the sensation of him dragging the fabric, along with the elastic of her underwear, down her hips and she pulled away from his wet mouth to lift her lower body, allowing them to collect around her thighs. She was already soaking when she settled against him, her uncovered pussy warm against his crotch. Jungkook commented on this, pushing his fingers through her folds and over the slick swell of her clitoris.

“You’re really wet…” He moaned, sliding his digits back and forth against her before angling them upwards, against her opening. She automatically leaned back as he sank three fingers in with ease, pressing them deep against her walls and filling her up. She groaned as they skimmed her G-spot and snapped her head back as he stretched her.

She allowed him to ease her onto her back, grateful for the gym mats which cushioned her body as he hooked his fingers under the frilly hem of her underwear, pulling them the rest of the way down along with her joggers and slipping them over her sneakers. He looked at her hungrily, spreading her legs by the calves to expose her flushed labia before dragging her body easily towards him on the mat. With a small pant, he lifted her lower body from the floor, placing her thighs across his shoulders as he buried his head in her sex and opened his mouth wetly against her pink folds.

She opened her mouth in a silent moan, her voice caught in her throat as he ran his tongue along her exposed core, his lips massaging her and pulling her closer.

“Does it taste good?” She managed to croak as he ran his tongue across her clitoris.

He didn’t reply, instead nestling himself deeper and pressing his lips tightly against her.  

“Fuck!” She exclaimed breathlessly, scrunching her eyes shut. She didn’t think he had ever made her feel this good. “Put your tongue in me Jungkook…” She groaned, letting out a loud gasp a moment later when he complied and pushed into her opening as deeply as he could. He slowly lowered her to the floor, holding up her thighs as he followed her; his lips never breaking contact. Being careful not to hit him with her sneakers, she wrapped her calves around his neck, holding him tight as he let go of her thighs. She leaned forward and brushed his slightly curly hair from his damp forehead, the rest of his features lost from view.

“I like your hair long…” She murmured sweetly, not knowing whether he would hear her.

“What?” He asked breathlessly as he pulled away. His lips glistened with her arousal.

“Nothing.” She shook her head softly and grasped the edge of his oversized t-shirt, pulling him to her. He slid between her parted legs and met her kiss with a moan. She tasted her saltiness on his skin as her tongue met his frantically, showing her appreciation. His palm moved to the back of her head as he deepened the kiss, holding her against him. Eventually, she pulled away, hoping to return the favour.

He watched with parted, rosy lips as she encouraged him onto his back and turned around, straddling him in reverse. He couldn’t help but grasp the backs of her thighs as she untied his tightly looped drawstring and slid him over the elasticated edge of his pants. As expected, he was already hard when she firmly squeezed his length, jerking him once, slowly, before wrapping her lips around him. He let out a cry at the sensation of his swollen tip brushing the warm ring of her throat, her lips tight against his balls as she deepthroated him.

Despite her arousal, she took care to keep her weight on her knees but the scent and close proximity of her was driving him crazy and with a moan, he spread her cheeks apart with both hands and captured her clitoris between his lips. He sucked a little roughly and rocked her hips, encouraging her to ride his face.  

After a moment, she let him go, holding his cock against her flushed cheek. “Is this too much?” She whispered, knowing if she wasn’t careful he was apt to over boil with little warning.

He shook his head against her body, breaking contact with her bud to moan. “Keep going…”

She smiled though he couldn’t see it, and took him back in, creating a tight suction with her cheeks as she bobbed up and down, wanting to make him feel as good as he was making her feel. He grew increasingly gaspy as he moved his palms from her backside and reached around to cup her breasts. She hummed around him in approval, making his cock twitch deliciously as he slipped his digits beneath the bust of her stretchy top and dragged the fabric down over her nipples. His thumbs brushed over the hard peaks, massaging her slick breasts firmly and pulling away from the slit between her thighs to take a much-needed gasp of air.

Hungrily, she moved from him, turning to face him and they locked eyes, their mutual desire obvious.

“Do you want me to get a condom?” He asked, catching his breath as his eyes roamed over her breasts; the tight fabric beneath pushing them up firmly. His caution was not unwarranted; she had insisted on him wearing one on the two previous occasions they had fucked, ever since his accident at the party.

“Where are they?” She asked.

“In the bathroom.”

She hesitated, before shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter…”

While the sentiment was not particularly romantic, Jungkook’s stomach grew pleasantly warm at the implication and he slipped his joggers and underwear from his legs before encouraging her onto his lap. She wrapped her legs around his hips, kissing him deeply and clutching his back with splayed fingers as they rocked together; the very tip of his cock pushing into her. His hands found her breasts and squeezed them together. They moaned in unison as their lips parted and she watched as his gaze once more fell to her chest. She squeezed her arms together, accentuating her bust.

“Put them in your mouth…” She whispered and he groaned at her request, moving his head to her chest to take a nipple between his open lips. She cradled his head in her arms and watched him suckle her, his mouth opening and closing against the pink buds as he alternated between them. He felt her reach between their thighs and adjust her hips as she guided him inside her completely.

“God that’s deep!” She cried out, momentarily closing her eyes in ecstasy as her warm cunt enveloped his length and thickness. Letting her nipple go at the sound of her voice, he moved his lips to hers and kissed her deeply as he snapped his hips against her inner thighs. She pulled away to look at him, roaming her hands along his bare torso; grasping and grabbing at him a little desperately as she moved against him, slowing him down to set the pace.  

“I forgot how hot you are.” She moaned breathily, her eyes trailing languidly along the parts of him she could see until she met his gaze.

“I’ll have to work harder…” He panted, holding her by the hips as she grinded against him. “To make sure you don’t forget.”

“You don’t need to work out more…” She protested weakly.

His eyes were soft as he looked at her beneath his thick, wavy bangs. “I meant I need to be a better boyfriend.”

She felt an unpleasant pang in her stomach.  “Let’s not talk about this now.” She said softly, slowing her hips. “Can you take over?” She requested.

 “How do you want it?” He asked quietly. “On top?”

She swallowed, clearing her raspy throat. “From behind.”

He looked at her for a moment and nodded as she moved from his lap, turning around to get on all fours and pushing off her sneakers with her toes. He followed slowly, taking a moment to admire the view of her backside and the way she was displayed to him; her flushed pussy pink and wet between her thighs. He hadn’t expected she would ever bare herself to him in this way again and he still wasn’t sure whether she truly trusted him, not after what he did to her, but he welcomed the fact she felt comfortable with him and that, at least, was something.

He spread apart her arse cheeks as he entered her, pushing his tip through her folds of skin with his teeth gritted in pleasure. He snapped his head back in pleasure once he was fully immersed and Young-soon watched him in one of the mirrors; her position giving her the perfect view of his reflected expression as he kneaded the skin on her backside; digging in his fingertips with each thrust. She loved how his features scrunched up, how his mouth lulled open when he groaned and how gorgeous he looked fucking her. It was exciting to be able to watch and, when his eyelids finally opened, her heart stuttered as they made eye contact in the mirror. 

“Finger me…” She whispered breathlessly as his hands moved to her waist.

He looked down, breaking his gaze and she felt him press his fingers against her taken cunt, brushing his cock as he tried to slip them in, filling her up. 

“Not there.” She prompted.

He paused tentatively. “Are you sure?” He asked quietly, a little shocked by her request. It had been a long time.

She gasped. “Just do it.” 

Slowly, he withdrew his digits and she watched his reflection as he raised them to his lips, sucking his fore and middle finger to coat them in saliva. He adjusted his hips, pulling half-way out of her and she whined loudly at the contact as the head of his cock brushed her tender inner walls, hitting the perfect spot.

He smiled bemusedly. “I haven’t touched you yet.”

“I can see that…” She smirked, making a point of showing him she was watching in the mirror as he moved his fingers back to the crevice between her cheeks and rubbed along the tight ring of her other opening. Unable to maintain eye contact in her pleasure, she closed her eyes as he circled the pucker and slowly pushed in his index finger. He watched her expression as her mouth opened in a gasp before dropping her head down. Gently, he pulled out to add his middle finger, hooking both digits in an upwards motion, his hand pressing closely to the curves of her body. 

“How’s that?” He whispered.

“Sensitive.”

“I’ll be careful.” He promised. 

She nodded, knowing he would and taking a moment to get used to the sensation of being filled twice as he massaged her gently, his hips utterly still until she pleaded. 

“Fuck me Jungkook.” 

Keeping his fingers inside her, he gently moved his body with hers, using his other palm to stroke her waist and hips as he increased pace. They rocked together, taking little glances at the mirror as he grew breathier; his brow sheening with perspiration at the sight of her breasts moving with momentum with each thrust of his hips; her hard nipples poking over the top of her tight, cropped shirt.

“Are you gonna cum?” She eventually asked, sensing he was close when she observed his eyes, bolted shut.

“Yeah…” He confirmed, letting out a long sigh. 

“Here…” She uttered, crawling forward frantically and spinning around. He cried out as his cock and fingers slipped from her. “On my tongue…” She finished, sitting on her knees and opening her mouth to expose her pink tongue.

He didn’t have time to think and instead, intuitively, grasped his erection and jerked himself roughly. As his seed hit her outstretched tongue she let out a moan and kept still as it spilled messily from the tip of his cock. He had a lot to give and his aim became more unsteady as his hand trembled; dripping himself onto her face and bare breasts. She watched his brow furrow and mouth open as he climaxed, his expression strained and utterly gorgeous. It soon smoothed out as he finished and she swallowed, wiping the sides of her mouth in a lady-like manner to taste him. 

“I’m sorry…” He panted apologetically, looking down at the mess he had made on her. “I couldn’t help it.” 

She shook her head with a small smile. “Don’t worry about it.” She murmured. 

His chest ached pleasantly at her reply, remembering how uncomfortably forced, on both their parts, their last two attempts at having sex had been. He knew she must be feeling just as exhausted as him and suddenly felt guilty at the realisation she would likely be in pain tomorrow from the intense workout, both before and during the sex. There was a momentary feeling of relief, however, at having burnt so much energy, his body rushing with endorphins. 

“Can I put this in the washer?” She asked, gesturing to her ruined shirt. The swell of her large breasts glistened attractively above the hem; his ejaculate pearl-like against her fawn coloured skin and pink nipples. 

He nodded as she stood up and peeled the fabric from her body. “Do you want to borrow a shirt?” He asked, unable to stop his eyes from roaming over her completely nude form, from her long legs to the shapely curves of her wide hips, hovering slightly on the waxed space between her thighs before once more admiring the beautiful, teardrop shape of her breasts.

She met his gaze and smirked. “What?” 

He flashed a timid grin and it seemed to her, at that moment, he was glowing in the aftermath of his orgasm.“Can we work out together more often?” 

The line could have come off as cheesy, but she sensed he was being sincere. Her lips turned up at the corners as she folded her shirt. “We’ll see.”

“Are you sure you have to go?” He asked, remembering that when he picked her up from her apartment in the early afternoon she had mentioned getting a lift back before it got too late.

“Yeah.” She hesitated, a little unconvincingly. “I need to iron my work clothes for tomorrow.”

“I could drop you off in the morning.” He offered, suddenly desperate for her to stay.

She bridged the gap between them and pressed her lips, a little apologetically, against his warm cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow after work…” She said, making his heart sink. While they had a casual date planned for the next day, it suddenly seemed apparent that there was still a gap between them...something he had stupidly caused half a year before. While their tryst today had been mind-blowing for him and, he was certain, intensely pleasurable for her too, it was not enough to repair what damage he had caused. 

“You’re still okay to pick me up aren’t you?” She asked as he placed his hand gently on her naked waist.

“Yeah…are you still okay for the restaurant?” He asked.

She smiled sweetly. “Yeah. It’ll be nice.” She turned around and began to head towards the door. “Do you want to shower first?”

He had hoped she would want to shower together, but tried not to seem too defeated. “There’s another one in the en-suite.” He explained.

“Even better.” She said, holding open the door as he caught up with her.

“I’ll go get you a shirt.”

***

Thanks for reading and please stay tuned for more headcanon fics.

To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM   /   Jin /   Suga /   J-Hope   /   Jimin   /   V   /   Jungkook

Our full masterlist can be found here

You can support us by buying admins a coffee here (if you wish). :)

[doobler]

Stay

Autumn breathed in deep. The cold air that filled his lungs soothed what lingering heat remained trapped in his chest. He always ran hot after a job, blood thrumming through his veins like the beat of a hummingbird's wings. Here, atop the roof of an abandoned warehouse, he could see both the city sprawling to his left and the icy ocean to his right. Salty spray made his skin feel a little raw but he enjoyed the sting.

"You've never stayed this close before."

Autumn chuckled. He knew that voice well now.

"I'm feeling daring I guess," He retorted, rolling his shoulders casually. "You gonna cuff me, detective?"

"Not today," Pierce grunted as he walked the precarious iron beams. "I'm technically off the clock on this one."

"Ah. Damn shame. I was feeling a bit charitable. Barely woulda put up a fight."

Pierce snickered, his laughter dying down when he took in the mercenary's appearance. There were dark bags under his eyes and his skin was ghostly white. Pierce edged closer, eyes owlish.

"Hey, uh, is that blood on your shirt?" He tried to sound calm.

"Yeah, but surprisingly, it's not someone else's" Autumn looked down at his own chest, tugging on his tank top. "Been havin' uhh a rough day as it were."

"Do you... Need a doctor or...?"

Autumn let out a sharp barking laugh, blood-tinged spittle flying off his lips.

"What, so you can cuff me mid-appointment? Polite pass."

His face screwed up rather unattractively. He bent down, hawking up a foul mouthful of bloody phlegm. Pierce cringed. 

"I've got a thing," Autumn swiped the nastiness off his chin with the back of his hand. "So it's fine."

"A thing?" Pierce echoed. "I'm pretty sure that's called 'internal bleeding', ya fucking psychopath. Maybe you should see a professional."

"Nooo, no, no, I've got, y'know. A thing!"

When Pierce refused to back off, Autumn let out a frustrated noise. He chewed down on his lower lip, dropping his head as he thought long and hard. This weird little cat-and-mouse chase had been going on for a couple years now. It'd been a bit longer since he'd seen... Her as well. He was feeling strangely trusting. Plus, Pierce just had an oddness about him. He was easy to talk to, terrifyingly so. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to trust someone again.

"... Let me show you." Autumn finally spoke, peering up behind his waterfall of golden hair.

"Show me...?" Pierce raised his brows.

"My thing."

Autumn held out his hand, flexing his fingers like an invitation. To his shock, Pierce only hesitated for a few moments before taking it. Autumn's eyes rolled back, the world dropped away completely, and everything went black.

---

It was dark. Unsettlingly dark. Unnaturally dark.

Pierce looked down at his hands. He looked ghostly. Ethereal. Inhuman. Was he floating up? Or down? It was hard to tell with no floor, no ceiling, no walls, just nothingness. He flipped and turned and spun for seconds and minutes and hours and days. Finally, his feet found the ground.

Waiting for him was a small child. He had big grey eyes and a heavy smattering of freckles across his face. In his hands was a cat, it's neck snapped. He looked proud, like he was showing off a project. Pierce opened his mouth to speak and the world went upside down again.

When he regained his footing, he was beside a teenager. The boy's body language was absolutely terrifying. He was trembling, his eyes unblinking, a permanently wicked grin stretched across his face. There was blood on his hoodie. Pierce had a feeling it wasn't his own.

This time, when the floor dropped, he was ready. He flashed past images of a woman he'd never seen before. Her smile looked fake and her gaze was cold and unfeeling. Pierce watched as her flirtatious advances turned to ice. Kisses turned to screaming, hugs into stinging open-handed slaps. While there was no sound, Pierce felt a sharpness in his ears, like she was yelling directly at his face. Soon, though far longer than he liked, she faded away, too.

Now Pierce was walking, waking through the dark to the end of the path. Autumn was there. He smiled, waving him closer. A figure slipped out of his shadow, one with ankle-length hair that laid flat and hung heavily. It had three eyes, two that glowed like hot embers and one that shined like gold. The way it draped itself over Autumn wasn't sexual, it was possessive. 

If you hurt him, it whispered in his ears, I'll eat you alive.

Autumn let the creature fawn over him, raking long clawed fingers through his hair, across his chest, along his arms, all the while never breaking eye contact with Pierce.

"This is my thing," Autumn's voice echoed. "Now you know."

---

Pierce came to, gasping for air. He grabbed at his chest, the weight having settled there finally lifted. He looked over to Autumn, terror stabbing its frozen fingers through his heart. He was vomiting blood, making all sorts of horrible sickly sounds. Pierce lunged forward, scooping him up in his arms. 

"Fuck, you're heavy." Pierce groaned, trying to drape most of his body along his shoulders and back.

"I... Work out..." Autumn groaned. He was barely conscious.

When their heads knocked together, Pierce could hear that voice again. It was feminine and masculine, old and young, speaking in a whisper that still sounded crystal clear.

Save him.

"I dunno what the actual fuck you are, blondie," Pierce huffed, very carefully easing them both towards the roof's access ladder. "But I'm not gonna leave you here to die."

Autumn exhaled what felt like a sigh of relief before going completely unconscious. Pierce staggered but kept his pace. He'd get him somewhere safe and no one, of Earth, Heaven, or Hell, would stop him.

---

Autumn woke up in a bed. A nice one, too, nicer than what he had back home. Well, home was a relative term, he lived in the office of an abandoned factory at the very edge of town, comfort and luxury wasn't something he currently had access to.

He looked around the room, instantly wide awake. A dark wooden desk sat against the wall, covered in a variety of paperwork alongside a rather old looking computer. One whole side of the room was lined with tall metal filing cabinets. There was a small dresser at the foot of the bed, a rather generic looking painting of the countryside hanging above him, and a single slightly worn armchair. Pierce was fast asleep sitting up, arms crossed over his chest. He was dressed down to his button up shirt, the top two buttons undone, and his slacks were swapped out for flannel bottoms. Autumn was mostly confused by his clothing choice but he wasn't here to judge.

Right. Here.

He saved us.

"Yeah, I put that together," Autumn groaned, slowly easing himself upright. He felt like absolute shit. "Where are we?"

His home. His office.

"And where is that?"

... Not sure.

Autumn let out a frustrated sigh. He whipped back the duvet and held his breath. Oh. He was in someone else's shirt and his own briefs. Alright. He tried not to think too hard about the benevolent detective patiently stripping him down, cleaning away all the blood, and tucking him into bed. That definitely wouldn't follow his subconscious for a good while.

He eased himself out of bed, creeping around the room to the window. They were in the heart of the city, far away from the docks and no where near Autumn's own housing situation.

Why are we trying to leave?

"What do you mean--" Autumn pressed his fingers against his temples, squeezing his eyes shut. "I need to get home, dumbass. You're so clingy and willing to trust for a fucking demon--"

He could've turned us in. We were unconscious and vulnerable. But he took us home and took care of us.

"Yeah but--"

We like him. We've always liked him, ever since we saw him. This is our chance. This is the time to stay.

"But what about--"

This isn't her. This is him. This is Pierce. We can stay this time.

"And what if it goes to shit, huh?" It took everything in Autumn not to scream. "What if we get hurt again?"

He looked over to the sleeping detective. Pierce looked so peaceful, long eyelashes fanned out across his cheeks, lips parted slightly as he breathed. Autumn's heart clenched. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

If he hurts us...

Autumn shuddered as images of gore flashed behind his eyes.

We'll kill him. 

"... Okay. Okay, fine. We'll... I'll trust him. This one time." 

Autumn rolled his eyes as waves of warmth echoed through his chest. He snuck back into bed, pulling the covers up to his neck. Just as he got comfortable, Pierce woke up, snuffling and stretching in his armchair.

"Oh, blondie, you're awake," He groaned, popping his shoulders. "How do you feel?"

"I'm... Alive, thank you," Autumn chewed on his inner cheek. God, how could someone's eyes be so damn blue? "You... Didn't have to--"

"Don't even start," Pierce smiled. His body language was so relaxed. "After what you showed me... I couldn't just leave you there. I'm starting to understand you're not just some maniac, you've got a lotta baggage and that makes things a lot more complicated. But... I'm willing to learn and listen. For now."

Pierce grinned and offered the mercenary a cheeky wink.

"Until you give me an actually good reason to slap some cuffs on you."

Autumn squeaked, covering up the sound with a wet cough.

"Do you uh," Pierce rose from his seat, rubbing his hands together awkwardly. "Wanna stay for dinner?"

"... Depends on what that is."

"Beef stew? And some crusty bread?"

Autumn raised his eyebrows, tipping his head forward.

"... Possibly some whiskey."

"Alright, sold." Autumn grinned.

"Fantastic," Pierce looked rather proud as he headed for the door. Sure enough, the heady waft of beef stock and root vegetables floated through the air as soon as he opened it. "Stay right there, I'll bring you back a bowl."

With that, he was gone and, much to Autumn's surprise, he did in fact stay.