#maybe i’ll think of something when i’m not on the cusp of ‘being in another timezone’ unconsciousness

[whatudottu]

*looping around the table like a goldfish in its bowl* What if the Omnitrix was Azmuth’s attempt to ‘fix’ Malware but Vilgax changed its course for the rest of time and Mr Neglectful Father turned his attention to the human boy with a powerful wristwatch?

*does a little jiggy* Hmm, thinking about Malware with the Omnitrix as the original intention and it getting to its destination on time-

A vastly different universe- imagine…

[brewstersbru]

Hey folks have some huskerdust !! 🕷️♥️

“I know, I know Legs. I just need to ask you something.” Angel’s eyes scrunch closed and the rest of his expression crumples as he whines out, short and low. Husk hovers his hands over the mottling of bruises and cuts that litter his torso, some still sluggishly bleeding. He itches to bandage them up, but stays himself with the sobering thought that Angel is used to guys touching him when he’s unconscious.

“Angel.” He tries again. Angel shakes his head minutely. “-on’t wanna.” He whines.

“Look at me please? I just want to check that it’s okay that I touch you. You know it’s important to me.”

Angel, with a long, juddering sigh, pulls himself from the cusp of sleep and blinks his eyes open. He frowns, glaring a little as he yawns into his hand. Husk waits patiently at his side, knees beginning to ache with being pressed against the hard wooden floor for so long.

“I told ya I don’t care what you do when I come back doped out like this, Whiskers. Not like I’ll remember it. Hah!” His laugh comes out rough, like it hurts to push from his lips. Husk shakes his head.

“And I told you it doesn’t matter if you’ll remember it or not. I’m not going to be another man who takes advantage of you.” He says, carefully enunciating each word so the message gets through.

Angel curses and flops over onto his side which draws his face infinitely closer to Husk’s own. He meets his eyes with a burning, lidded gaze. Husk keeps his posture relaxed, but his tail puffs at the sudden movement.

“Yer a softie, Husk. I don’t think ya could take advantage of me if you wanted to.” The words are coupled with a rickety, slapped on grin. Husk desperately wants to just shake him until he gets it through his big thick head that that’s not the point. It doesn’t matter what he thinks, it matters what he wants. Does he want Husk touching him after an abusive, grueling shoot? That’s what Husk’s asking, not if he ‘trusts’ him. He sighs.

“You didn’t answer my question. Can I touch you? Just give me an answer and then you can go back to sleep. God knows you’ll be needing it.” And it’s true. Who knows what Val has in store for him tomorrow? He’s better off getting all the rest he can get, while he can.

Angel appraises him with a long, considering look. There’s a lot going on behind his eyes and though Husk is aware of the fact of it, he can’t begin to try to fathom what exactly his thoughts are in this moment. He simply sits back on his heels and awaits his verdict. Every so often his eyes are drawn down to the mess of Angel’s torso. It’s not an intentional thing, but he can feel his hackles rising with the need to Fix It. Husk crushes the feeling down.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity but in reality couldn’t have been longer than five minutes, Angel closes his eyes.

“Yeah. Yeah Husk, you can.” He says, voice as small as Husk thinks he’s ever heard it. It’s strange to hear him so soft when usually he overtakes rooms with booming confidence; he even looks small, now, tucked into himself and using all of his arms to hug himself close as he hunches over.

He doesn’t- maybe he can’t- look at Husk when he speaks. Husk takes the words for the olive branch that they are and nods.

“Okay. Thank you, Angel. S’ all I needed.”

Angel just nods, curling further into himself for a moment before abruptly turning onto his back and feigning sleep. They both know he’s awake- he’s not snoring as loudly or as endearingly as he would if he truly was asleep- but Husk doesn’t call him on it, just reaches down to the first aid kit he’d dragged over in his initial protective rage and starts unpacking the necessary materials. Alcohol (not the fun kind), gauze, tape, and Angel’s preferred- though he’d never tell you it- heart-patterned bandages.

Another glance at Angel’s stiffly unmoving form reminds him that he hadn’t even had time to remove his makeup before passing out from exhaustion. Smears of glittery pink decorate his eye sockets, smudged from what Husk can only assume were punishing bouts of sweat and exercise. Husk pushes down the surge of indignation this thought elicits and smooths Angel’s hair back, thumbing for a moment near his hairline, before standing.

“Be back in a sec. Forgot something.” He keeps his voice low, tries for soothing but probably achieves something more like a dying wood chipper. Angel- who had up until that point been tightly coiled, as if expecting a blow- eases into the cushions at the sound. He hums, “Mmk. Thanks.”

Husk doesn’t respond lest Angel figure out from the cadence of his voice that Husk doesn’t need to be thanked. That he wants to do this. That he likes it.

It’s just- Angel always looks so at peace in these moments. The usual tension in his body melts away leaving nothing but the rawest and purest version of him. Husk loves that version of him, and he loves that Angel trusts him enough to show him it.

Husk returns after a minute or two with a pack of makeup wipes, Angel’s preferred brand, that he’d bought not too long ago precisely for moments like this. Angel was always complaining about glitter getting into his eyes when he forgot to take his makeup off and Husk saw an opportunity to Fix It. There’s not a lot in Angel’s life that Husk is able to help with, but this is something. And he jumped at the chance.

Angel is snoring lightly, right back at the cusp of oblivion that Husk had so heartlessly torn him from before. He sniffs and turns toward Husk when he settles back at his side, curling slightly into his warmth. Husk can’t help the smile that infects his features at the movement.

With careful, callused fingers, Husk begins to dab at the cuts on Angel’s torso. He’s not sure how to feel about the fact that Angel only flinches at the initial sting, not the rest of the painful swipes. It speaks to a depth of experience with this kind of thing that Husk vehemently dislikes the thought of Angel having to go through. Sure, in theory he knows Angel’s been subjected to this bullshit for decades, but to see it spelt out like this? So clearly and heartbreakingly? Husk has to take a moment between cleaning and bandaging the wounds to collect himself.

Angel whines when he takes his hands away.

“Easy. Easy, Legs.” He wants to call him ‘baby’ but isn’t convinced enough of Angel’s unconsciousness to chance it. Angel huffs.

The rest of the bandages go on easily enough, with minimal protests from Angel- which, somehow only seem to occur when Husk pulls away- and Husk smooths a healthy amount of bruise cream on each of Angel’s visible bruises. He’s almost certain there are more hidden beneath the- admittedly skimpy- clothing Angel is wearing, but is unwilling to undress him like this.

Pulling the surprisingly fluffy throw blanket from the back of the couch, Husk drapes it over Angel’s form, smoothing the sides down and tucking his arms beneath its warmth so he doesn’t wake up cold.

Husk is methodical in his cleanup of the first aid supplies, drawing each movement out so that he has more of a reason to stay in the room. To look at the rare smooth openness of Angel’s expression.

Once finished, he sets the kit to the side and picks up the makeup wipes, pulling one from the pack and pinching it between his pointer and thumb as he leans over Angel’s face. He moves one hand to cup his cheek, and the other to begin swiping lightly across Angel’s left eyelid.

Angel flinches a little at the unexpected contact, eyelids fluttering as his expression scrunches, disrupting the smooth peace Husk had so adored. It strikes something sore within Husk to watch.

“Hey. Hey, you’re okay, Baby. I’m not gonna hurt you. Go back to sleep.” The ‘baby’ slips out, Husk just can’t filter his words as carefully when Angel is so close, and so clearly hurting.

Angel’s expression smooths at the sound of his voice, at first fractionally, then all at once. It’s a gift to witness.

He leans his cheek further into Husk’s hand and Husk, unable to curb the small chuckle that bursts from his chest at the sight, smooths his thumb underneath Angel’s newly cleaned eye.

This is perfect. If life was fair and they were free this could be their normal, their everyday intimacies, indulged in unrestrained bliss. Husk allows himself to live in the thought for a moment before moving to clean Angel’s other eye.

He doesn’t flinch this time, simply sinks into Husk’s hand as it cradles his face and tips his right side towards him. Husk lets his fingertips linger against smooth, cool skin as he works. Swiping tenderly with each pass, as if Angel were something worth treating carefully.

Husk finishes his work without fanfare and, with an indulgent, lingering press of his lips to Angel’s warm forehead, he stands.

Only to nearly keel over when he meets Angel’s own, lidded- but OPEN- eyes.

“FUCK!”

Angel laughs, but it’s small and syrupy. Real.

“Thanks, Babycakes.” He offers, reaching his arms above his head in a stretch before settling back, deeper under the covers. “You sure know how to treat a guy. Careful what you offer, though, okay? Might end up with a junkie on your ass if it's too sweet.”

Husk understands what he’s really trying to say and shakes his head.

“Any time, Angel.”

[boopiddyboop]

Stray Kids Random Astrology Observations

Note: I’m reading these by traditional standards, which includes, but is not limited to: ignoring cusps, using whole signs, and disregarding Uranus-Pluto for natal readings

Bang Chan:

I was really surprised to see no earth signs in his chart, considering how dependable he seems. All of that air energy could lead him to be quite flighty, but his Libra Sun/Moon/Mercury being ruled by a Venus in Scorpio is really helping ground him

Lee Know:

So as far as I’m aware, the purported birth time of Mr. Know is either 8 PM/AM….but it truly TRULY makes a difference considering Venus switches over during that day (and traditional astrology does not recognize cusps). Either his Scorpio Rising is being ruled by a Mars in Virgo, or his Gemini Rising is being ruled by a Mercury in Scorpio. Regardless, his plethora of Scorpio is being ruled by a Mars in Virgo, and as a Virgo enthusiast, I really like this for him. I think I’ll have to watch more of his stuff to determine which I think it is. 

Changbin:

I accidentally put April at first which left me very confused as to how another Aries existed in Stray Kids after Woojin was gone

Poor Changbinnie… his Mars and his Jupiter/Saturn causing so many squares in his chart. I won’t go as far as to say “misunderstood”, but homeboy definitely has an “inner saboteur” (especially with that Sun combust Moon). That being said, I find a lot of the most interesting people/celebrities are the ones with squares- it adds dynamics. 

Hyunjin:

A funnel chart! I have one of these myself, so I feel like we just ~get each other~ xD Seriously though, his funnel handle is a Moon in Virgo, so when shit goes south in his life, it seems like he relies on turning inwards 

Han:

More Virgos! Although this time, there’s almost nothing else supporting that Virgo placement (and it’s being ruled by a Mercury in Libra)... I’d bet dollars to donuts that his rising isn’t in an earth sign either. I’m leaning either Leo or Aquarius Rising, with a slight preference for Leo. 

Felix:

And here boys and girls we can see what difference a Moon sign can make. Also surprised to see almost exclusively Fire/Air in his chart (barring that Sun in Virgo). Though, with the clips I’ve seen of this boy just absolutely blubbering, my guess is he’s got a water sign rising. Cancer perhaps? 

Seungmin:

Not for nothing, but Seungmin reminds me of Youngjae from GOT7. Without a birth time, we can’t actually even be sure he’s a Virgo, but I’m hard pressed to say he’s not due to that comparison alone. (Edit: ran the times; he squeaks in as a Virgo regardless) For a rare change of pace, it’s fire signs that seem to be lacking here, nor are there any fixed signs. He’s the anti-Leo, if you will.

I.N.:

If Seungmin has none of that fixed sign stubbornness, then don’t worry, because I.N. definitely makes up for that. Like Changbin, he’s also got a lot of squares going on, but this time it’s across the whole wheel. There’s something about his random Mars in Scorpio that just reads as “brat” to me instead of “warrior” like the placement would usually indicate, but maybe that’s just the maknae tinted glasses coming in. 

Thoughts? Concerns? Disagreements? Please let me know in the askbox I’m relatively new to Stray Kids so I’d love more insight :)

[quibbs126]

And you want to know what makes it worse? I don’t even have anything going on creatively in my mind either

I like to go on walks in the morning, around 30 minutes to an hour, depends on what I feel like (or the weather), and during that time, I listen to music and I think about scenarios in my head, like characters talking or a scenario they’re in. They could be characters of my own creation, they could be characters from a series I currently like. But usually, it goes with the vibe of whatever I’m listening to (or it devolves into something else, but that’s a gradual thing). But now, I can’t come up with really anything, and so I’m stuck revisiting whatever I came up with beforehand, and I can’t think of anything new. And like, it’s getting annoying, only being stuck with like, 3 things, not to mention I’m just repeating the conversations over and over again each time

I know that’s a weird, specific thing, but it’s a thing, and I thought it should mention it

But going to something more general that makes more sense, another thing is that I just haven’t made that much art. Like I’ve been doing less and less over time, and I know y’all know it. And I want to make art, I just can’t make myself, both out of lack of ability to force myself to, and because of a lack of creativity (which is what I’m focusing on here)

Or like for my fankids, I’ll be looking at my list, either in my notes or on Procreate, and I cannot make myself do anything with them. And I’m doing this with characters in general, I‘ll be looking at a blank page and have no clue what to do with it

And the current most infuriating thing, I can’t make new characters. Maybe I can push through making fankids, but I cannot make my own original characters, and I cannot create a new original story to work with. Sometimes I’ll have random ideas, and I’ll write them down, but I can’t do much with them. And what makes it infuriating is that I feel like I am on the cusp of something, some new thing should be happening (and at this point I need it for new ideas), but nothing’s coming up, the thoughts won’t form

I suppose related to that, I’m trying to redo the fusion project once more, but I can’t figure out where to start with the characters, and so I can’t do anything. I have ideas, like Berserk is making me think of something to do with the characters, but I don’t know what that something is, or how to achieve that thing. It had to do with each of the party characters and how they’re introduced and what they bring to the party, but the thoughts won’t form enough for me to understand what it is

That’s the main thing, thoughts are floating my head, there are points that formulate, but the refuse to connect into an actual line of thinking or creativity, and it’s infuriating!

None of that made sense, did it?

I noticed this on Sunday when I was out with my family for lunch. I had my iPad to draw, but I couldn’t think of anything to draw, so I just sat there, trying to think of something. I mean thankfully food came relatively fast, or else I’d be stuck there for ages in an infuriating creative limbo

[hope-to-hell]

No Way to get Ahead. August Walker. Allusions to death and dismemberment, nothing particularly explicit. This is a chance for August to unload a bit, in the form of a one-sided conversation with some unknown goon. Anyway, it’s not like it matters who they are. Were. Whatever.

——

Would you— just give me a minute here. Christ, the blood’s not even dry yet and you’re here with your million fucking questions. So listen, and watch, and shut your mouth while I work. It took me weeks to get here, weeks to track this fucker down and what did I get?

More questions.

More endless questions, each tied to the one before. It’s gonna be a nightmare getting this straightened out. Not like she’s gonna care. I’ve got a name and that’s good enough for her but this isn’t about Sloane, not really. Besides, the who is ephemeral. Lackeys come and bodies go and nothing ever really changes. It’s the what and the why that are giving me trouble. Something’s on the wind, something nasty even for me. There’s so much rot, you can’t help but smell it. It stinks of mildew and bile, old blood and new piss.

It smells like being buried alive.

The bitch of it is, I’m good at this. This shit about the Hammer is all smoke; I leave a few bodies for the cleaners and a little bit of intel all wrapped up nice and neat: dear Erika, I saw this and thought of you. But that’s not the good stuff. It doesn’t really matter if she has their names; they’re just meat by then. And teeth, and fingernails, and bits of viscera here and there. It’s a show, don’t you get it? I bring the goods and get a pat on the head and if I let her pull my hair a little— well, who says this can’t be fun once in a while? Besides, blood calls to blood. We’ve both got that audaciously stubborn streak; it’s what I lov—

And if I spend a little extra time in the reading rooms all by my lonesome, who’s gonna think anything of it? Secrets have a way of threading themselves through the earth, through concrete and steel til they rattle around in the walls. If you’re careful, if you’re focused, you can hear them; it’s like they want to be heard, to be caught. And it doesn’t matter if I’m seen down there. Being Erika Sloane’s pet has its advantages. I’m hers; I go where I’m ordered, so anywhere I am is right where I’m supposed to be.

The question is, friend, are you where you’re meant to be? Because I have this sneaking suspicion you’re not here out of the goodness of your heart. Maybe you’re someone’s dog too, and I can guess whose. It’s a wonder I can get anything done with the way he’s always watching and picking and being so goddamn irritating about every little thing. John, did you set the charges? Is there sparkling water in the helicopter? Are you sure the apartment isn’t bugged? You’d think I was some fresh-faced kid right out of the Academy. And if I have to hear one more word about Ethan fucking Hunt—

You know, as long as you’re here you might as well make yourself useful. Nevermind whose hand that is; it’s none of your business. Yeah, in that cooler there. Bag first, then ice. You want it to get frostbite? I would’ve taken their head, but it’s not so pretty anymore. Still, I’ll box this up all nice and neat and leave it on Sloane’s desk. She’s not much for the whole it’s the thought that counts thing, though. Might have to butter her up a little. She might see right through it, but that’s part of the fun. And you know, she tastes so sweet when she’s on the cusp of finding out.

Listen. I know Lane doesn’t much like what I do with his guys but a body’s a body and it’s not like it’s hard to pick up another angry disillusioned kid looking to get back at the world. All he has to do is tell you about a world of equals, born from the ashes; he piques your interest and sends you on a few simple errands, and before you know it you’re marching in step to his idiotic schemes. It’s hard to back out when you’ve got agency men climbing down your throat and Solomon Lane fucking you right in the ass with his wouldn’t it be a pity if somebody found out what you get up to when you’re away.

Lane and I agree on one thing at least: there’s rot in every part of this world and all we can do is burn it out. But he had to go and make it personal— he had to turn this into a dick-measuring contest against Ethan Hunt. He only has to hear the little twerp’s name and his pants are already around his ankles. Langley’s a vacation paradise by comparison. It’s all about the job: whether Erika’s dressing me down or undressing me, it’s nothing personal.

But listen. Whatever you’re doing here, whatever errand you’ve been sent on, you’re not leaving. Maybe you didn’t know the risk. It doesn’t matter. I can’t have so many of you out there knowing my face or the nature of my work. And yeah, I’m afraid that means you as well. We play a game where the rules are always changing and loyalties mean next to nothing. Like I said, the who doesn’t matter— only the why. If it makes you feel any better, that means me too. I’m just a part of the whole, one cog in a vast machine. Rebirth will come one way or another, and though I don’t want to die for the cause, it’s pretty much a given. After all, a phoenix can’t rise without burning first. You’ll just be kindling for the flame, but don’t feel too bad about it. So make it easy on yourself: hold nice and still, and I’ll make it quick.

Guess I’ll have a head to give Erika after all.

[tsarisfanfiction]

#1 (Sing A Song of Seven)

Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: Lee Fletcher, Will Solace, Luke Castellan

A series of Cabin Seven oneshots.  This time: A new arrival to camp.

Been considering doing one of these for a while and finally caved; Sing A Song of Seven will be an ongoing short story collection focusing on Cabin Seven (and their dad!).  Everything in this collection will be canon-compliant up until the end of TOA, although absolutely full of headcanons, and the stories won’t be in chronological order.  Timeline-wise, they’re likely to span from Lee’s arrival in camp through to the ambiguous “post-TOA”.  All the canon Apollo campers will appear at some point or other, as well as a sprinkling of OCs where necessary.  Other characters will also make appearances occasionally!  Likewise, while Solangelo will be acknowledged, it will not be a focal point of the series.  Prompts are accepted, but bear in mind there’s no guarantee I’ll write them, depending on my muses and if they fit my vision of cabin seven.  Anything that ends up longer than 2k words will be posted as its own work, as will anything written to fill external challenges.  No, I cannot be bothered to name these because naming is evil, so they’re just numbered.

Reminder that there’s now a discord server for all my fics, including this one!  If you wanna chat with me or with other readers about stuff I write (or just be social in general), hop on over and say hi!

Young arrivals weren’t particularly unusual, but they weren’t overly common, either.  Since Lee’s own arrival, he’d seen Annabeth, Clarisse and Michael spill into camp in various degrees of dishevelment – especially Annabeth’s arrival; as the healer closest to her age, he’d been the one prodded in her direction while she wailed about the now-a-tree daughter of Zeus.  Most camp inhabitants had already reached double-digits before arriving, and the few younger ones tended to turn up with hell on their heels.

Lee had been an exception, with a near-enough peaceful arrival (he didn’t really like to think about why he’d ended up at camp so early, even six years later) with a satyr guide scurrying him past monsters who hadn’t yet clocked his scent, but it seemed like he wasn’t quite so much of one, now.

The newcomer was another child of Apollo, which was a little unusual because most Apollo kids were on the cusp of teenagerhood when they arrived, claimed in a shower of golden light and a lyre made of sunbeams over his head scant minutes after passing through the barrier.  At a guess, he was probably seven or eight, with a wave of pale blond hair and light blue eyes that were looking around in awed confusion.

Lee could relate.

He wasn’t head counsellor for the cabin yet; another year and Emily would leave, passing the responsibility down to him because he had more beads than the rest of his half-siblings, but she hadn’t left yet and technically that meant greeting the new kids was her job.  There was something about the small, bright child that drew Lee in, though.  Maybe it was how much he looked like Apollo, moreso the rest of the cabin, who were a real mixed bag of appearances, or maybe it was because Lee remembered being seven and arriving in a new home which turned his life upside-down.

He stepped forwards and crouched down a little to be at eye level with the new boy.  Will, his satyr – Thistleberry – had announced in a shaking voice when he’d been claimed.  Will Solace, son of Apollo.

“Hi there, Will,” he greeted with a smile on his face.  “Welcome to Camp Half-Blood.  My name’s Lee Fletcher; I’m a son of Apollo, too.”

Will looked at him with wide blue eyes.  He wasn’t entirely uninjured, on closer inspection; small cuts and nicks littered his skin where it was visible, and a bruise was blooming on a shin, as though he’d been kicked.  It was still impressively unharmed for a new arrival.  Even Michael had had open wounds and blood trickling down the side of his face, and Michael had the fastest healing Lee had ever seen.

“Hi,” Will replied quietly, not that Lee could blame him when he was so clearly overwhelmed.  He was missing one of his front incisors, leaving a gap in his teeth and adding a faint whistle to his voice.

“It’s a lot to take in,” Lee acknowledged, offering him his hand as he straightened.  “How about we get you settled in, and I can answer any questions you have when you have them?”

Will looked around, visibly wilting at the fact that Thistleberry had beat a hasty departure – that was a little unusual; it was true that satyrs were always a little skittish after guarding Apollo kids, but they didn’t normally vanish entirely – but took Lee’s hand.  He ran warm, just like the rest of the cabin.

“Okay,” he said, and Lee smiled at him.

“Do you want a hand with your bag?” he asked, eyeing the well-packed backpack the boy wore.  It had a few tears and stains, but seemed to be remarkably intact overall.  Will and Thistleberry must have been pretty lucky on their journey, wherever they’d come from.  Will’s accent, from what little he’d heard the boy say so far, wasn’t from New York, so it had probably been a decent journey.

Will shook his head, and Lee couldn’t help but chuckle.  “Smart kid,” he praised, gesturing over at where Luke was watching, surrounded by some of his cabin eleven siblings.  “Don’t trust those guys with your stuff.  They’re kids of the god of thieves; you’ll never see it again!”

“Don’t go ruining our fun, Lee!” Luke called back, mock-offended, and Lee just grinned at him, before glancing back down at Will, who was worrying his lower lip.

“They’re good guys really,” he promised.  “Everyone here is.  They’re just a bit like magpies and can’t resist shiny things.”

“Oi!”

To Lee’s delight, that got a small laugh out of Will.

“The god of thieves is Hermes, isn’t it?” his new little brother asked.  “So everyone here really is a god’s kid?”

“Or goddess’,” Lee confirmed.  “Did Thistleberry tell you that?”

Will nodded jerkily. “She said I was a demigod and I was going to a place for demigods.  So did the other guy.  Mom said they were right, but none of them would tell me who my dad was.”

Lee ignored the pang of loneliness that came with the word Mom with years of forced practice. “Knowledge is powerful,” he explained as they approached the cabins.  “Once you know who your godly parent is, more things are likely to come after you.”

“Like the snakes?” Will asked, like Lee had half-hoped he would, because that made it easier to explain. Even Lee hadn’t dodged the snakes entirely, although that had been after he’d already been on route to camp.  Will was pretty young for the snakes to come for him unprovoked, though.

“Like the snakes,” he confirmed.  “Snakes are always the first one to come for Apollo kids, because Dad’s natural enemy is a big serpent.  I take it Thistleberry got rid of them?”

He blinked in surprise when Will shook his head.  “The other guy did,” he said.

Lee was certain it had just been Will and Thistleberry when they’d reached camp, and Will didn’t seem overly traumatised compared to the likes of Annabeth, so he probably hadn’t seen anyone die.  “The other guy?” he asked.

Will lit up as he nodded. “Yeah!  I thought he was just in my dreams but then he was there and all the snakes moved back when he picked me up and carried me home.”

Lee came to a stop just outside the cabins.  “Did he give a name?” he asked, mind already jumping to the obvious answer – but even in his case, Apollo had never interceded in person, instead using satyrs as intermediaries.

Will frowned.  “No, but Mom knew him.  He looked like me, though.  Do you know him, too?”

“I might do,” Lee hedged, mind reeling from the idea that Apollo might have saved Will personally. “He sounds familiar.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway,” Lee hurried on, deciding to shelve that particular conversation for a little later, once Will was settled in and knew more about the gods and their father, “here we are.” He steered the younger boy into the green.  “These are the cabins where we sleep.  There’s one for each of the Olympians.”  He gestured at them all broadly before pointing at the golden one, “and that one’s ours.  Cabin Seven, or the Apollo Cabin.  We’ve got the second-most people, because Dad has a lot of kids, but there’s plenty of space for all of us.  Including you, there’s twenty of us right now, although some of the older ones are leaving at the end of the summer for college.  Don’t worry if you take a while remembering who’s who,” he added, seeing Will mouth twenty in disbelief.

“So many,” Will whispered. Lee smiled at him.

“One big, happy family,” he promised.  “I didn’t ask – how old are you?  I’m thirteen.”

“Eight next week,” Will told him, and Lee suppressed a wince.  Being torn from his Mom a week before his birthday had to suck, although Will didn’t seem too cut up about it.

“We’ll make it a good birthday,” he promised.

“Will there be music?” Will asked, and Lee had to laugh as he pushed the cabin door open.

“Dad’s the god of music,” he told him.  “If you want music, you are absolutely in the right place here.  Do you play anything?”

He was a little taken aback when Will shook his head, thinking for sure that Will had to play something with that request.  “Mom sings,” the younger boy said.  “She’s really good.  I’m not, but I like listening.”

Lee gestured at the various instruments scattered around the cabin.  Reece was curled up on his bunk, tuning a lyre quietly as he chatted with Melody.  Everyone else was out for the moment.  “You’ll hear plenty here,” he promised.  “Welcome to Cabin Seven.”

There was a single bunk left, their cabin almost at full capacity, underneath Michael’s.  Lee headed for it, coaxing Will to follow. “How’s this one?  It got made this morning.”

Will scanned the cabin, clearly realised it was the last empty bunk, and nodded.  “It’s fine,” he said, putting his bag down on it tentatively before sitting himself.  He pointed at Reece and Melody.  “Who are they?”

Lee clapped his hands, catching the pair’s attention.  “Introduction time, guys!  This is Will Solace, he just got here.  Will, meet some of our older siblings, Reece Gold and Melody York.”

The pair of them sent a grin and a wave over before returning to their conversation.

“You’ll meet everyone properly at dinner,” Lee promised when Will looked a little startled at the brief greeting.  “For now, let’s get you settled in, then I’ll give you the grand tour.”  As well as hunting down Emily, so Will knew who his head counsellor was before the call for dinner.

Not that Lee minded being the one to show Will around; from first impressions, he seemed like a good kid.

#2>>

[the-teddy-bear-butch]

I DOUBLE DOG DARE YOU TO ANSWER ALL OF THEM OR AT LEAST 10 OF YOUR CHOICE

HA BET. I WONT REFUSE A DARE. I chose 10. Also still fangirling over the fact you like my writing BEE TEE DUBS 🥹

7. Any worldbuilding you’re particularly proud of?

Yes!!! While somehow may not be my favorite of my fics, I’m very proud of the world building! I wanted to put an Upside-Down twist on lycanthropy and I’m very excited to flesh that out more when I finally get back to that fic!!! I love golden retriever werewolves as much as the next person, but I wanted a spooky, slimy, Upside-Down demogorgon-y werewolf for this fic!!

8. What song would make a great fic (to either write or read)?

I have. So many. Let me just link the playlist and pick a favorite to ramble about LMAO

I’ve been thinking a LOT about “Kissaphobic” by Makeout Monday and how it could relate to Nancy “comphet” Wheeler falling for Robin and being afraid to kiss her because it makes it Real.

11. Are you partial to a certain character/pairing or are you more equal-opportunity? If you are partial to any character/pairing, why do you think that is?

I’m obviously very partial to Ronance! But! I have a special place in my heart for Buckingham and Chrickie and even Rockie (if the Duffers give Vickie an actual personality). I think Ronance to me is most appealing in part because they’ve,,, actually interacted, but! They’re both such easy characters for me to project on and write for. I love their dynamic and the push and pull between them?? They’re both intelligent women who can kill you. And you cannot tell me that Nancy, who has struggled and been looked down on as a woman in a male dominated work space, didn’t fall in love with Robin while she was ranting about crybaby Petey McHugh. Jonathan and Steve could NEVER.

15. What’s your favorite AU that you’ve written?

Maybe cheating since I’m two whole chapters in, but she will pull the trigger on you (and the trigger is of love). Allow me to be sappy for a sec, but this fic is a combination of my favorite tropes and my own little love letter to the community of mutuals I’ve been accepted into here on Tumblr. I’m taking all our shared headcanons and common tropes and trying to pack it into one story. It will probably be literally Insane™️ but that’s half the fun of it! And the excuse to write enemies to lovers and SLOW BURN TENSION OH BOY. The inherent homoeroticism of being hunted by a monster hunter!!! BANTER!!! And I just. I just fucking love werewolves okay.

30. Have you ever written something that was out of your comfort zone? If so, what was it, and how did it affect your approach to writing fic thereafter?

Yep. I have written one (1) smut fic. That was?? It wasn’t terrible, I just have NO IDEA what I’m doing and the pacing felt weird and I’ll be the first to admit that I am getting over being kind of a prude LMAO

38. Did any of your fics get surprisingly popular (whatever that means to you)? Which ones? Why do you think they were so successful?

Definitely! run away (crying to your soul) was my FIRST fic ever, and it’s not even finished, and it’s right on the cusp of like,,, 10k hits? It’s not my best writing, it’s absolute crack, the pacing is Wrong, the dynamics are a little meh, I know I can do better!! But!! It is still my first fic, so I’m proud of it for that! I’m just surprised it got as popular as it did ajskskksks. I’d guess it’s honestly mostly due to the fact that it’s pretty lengthy and when I started it WAS updating very quickly. Idk man, it’s a fever dream.

41. Link a fic that made you think, “Wow, I want to write like that.”

HEY DON’T MIND ME LINKING ONE OF YOURS BUT,,, a never ending story is just… Wow. You can TELL when a writer has experience in poetry and I will lose my mind every goddamn time. I’ve never been good with poetry and I will always be jealous of writers who are able to pull from that to write some of the most heart wrenching prose you’ve ever read. Another really good example is anything by @sapphicriley / khalasaar!!!

43. If you take/write prompts: what’s your favorite prompt fic that you’ve written?

This one isn’t on AO3! I had an angst prompt that I was actually really proud of where Robin and Nancy have an argument, within the SSMH au! Link here!

48. What’s the last fic you read? Do you recommend it?

I already mentioned it on 41, and obviously YES. But before that, amongst the rubble and stone by signsoflight. And yes again!! I LOVE outsider POV fics, it’s such an interesting way to examine characters we love and the worlds they inhabit!! This fic does an excellent job of that without the main character being a huge focus! And I just love Nancy Wheeler! Sue me!

49. What are you currently working on? Share a few lines if you’re up for it!

I have like 6 recently started WIPs RIP. But! The one I’m most excited for right now is a Christmas fluff fic based off a prompt by @gaymessallday ! (I know it’s November but I’m slow and I want to post it around Christmas ahskskskks)

Essentially, Robin and Nancy are strangers on the same flight, get stranded due to snow, and end up stuck in the same hotel room for a couple of days

Boarding the rest of the plane took ages, but Nancy resolved herself to listening to her music and making a game—counting every person in a Christmas shirt—in her head to ease any pre-flight anxiety. A couple in matching reindeer tees. A child in a snowman sweater. A grandfather with an inappropriate Santa joke.

She counted twenty seven by the time the line ended. The seat beside her was empty, and Nancy breathed a sigh of relief—

Too soon.

Twenty eight, a gangly girl with honey hair and the ugliest Christmas sweater Nancy had ever seen scrambled down the aisle. She was apologizing profusely for being late, all the way to her seat—right beside Nancy.

“Hey, sorry, don’t mind if I just scooch in here,” the stranger said, grinning, something lopsided. Nancy gave her a thin lipped smile.

“Window seat, huh? I love watching the cities go by,” the girl continued, buckling in. The safety spiel had begun, but the stranger did not stop. “Of course, I’m not trying to get you to move! The aisle seat is cool too. Less crowded, easier to get up to pee mid flight!”

Nancy was beginning to wonder if this girl ever shut up.

[euphoricfilter]

Omg soulmates!! especially omegaverse! (is omegaverse ok? ahh) One of my most favorite concepts! Fate bringing people together and having them fall in love!! For balance, there should be omegas, alphas, betas in a pack. It's interesting to see different roles for the members even though Namjoon is usually pack alpha from what I've seen. It's usually werewolves. But I think more variety of hybrids is better. Mc as a cute, small animal like a bunny or cat while the boys are big animals omg! Why are bird hybrids never in these? The human arms and bird wings on back type for features. Tails, ears, and wings being sensitive omg! Imagine only alpha, omega world though. I like the true alpha, sub alpha thing. Maybe sub alphas can replace betas instead. Bc alpha omega dynamics is so good omg! (betas are nice too but alpha!! omg) Dom alpha bts omg! Omegaverse au also allows for things to be explained as instincts ahh. Nesting, scenting, scuffing, courting, mates, heat, and knots ahh! So much possessiveness too. Omega mc ofc bc I just want to be spoiled :( The fics I've read usually have some angst too though :( I just want happy mc and bts!

-🖤

i wrote a hybrid series, omegaverse borders that idea it’s fine!! i also breathe omegaverse fics 😭

i’ve always wanted to write a soulmate au, maybe i’ll do that one day because i love the concept of- no matter what life we both live, i’ll love you in all of them, i’ll find you in all of them LIKE COME ON

literally there aren’t enough bunny m/c, i need soft, skittish, baby bunny m/c with her scary alpha doms, maybe another omega, i imagine jimin, whose spoiled by her alphas and they’re all just in love, maybe i’ll write that one too one day when i have the time because ahhh baby bunny m/c :((

what animals the others would be… let’s think

i’m gonna ignore my ‘to build a home’ choices for this one and assign each member a different animal, i think a lot of them would be big cats

omg i love bunny m/c but but but imagine big cats! bts x domestic cat m/c not only the size difference but the way they’d be so protective over her 😭

namjoon would maybe be a bear, he’s quite broad and strong so i think that would fit him most, though if he were to be a big cat i think he would be a lion, head of the pride/ pack

tiger taehyung seems right who’s ears have pretty stripes, and maybe he’s weak to ear scratches

panther jungkook

lynx jimin, a little dainty but just as dangerous

snow leopard yoongi who has his own little home built in the garden that’s colder than the rest of the house

cougar hobi

i’m debating between leopard jin or cheetah jin. i think cheetah because his waist is quite slim and cheetahs are very… elegant

ahhh i read a fic once where jimin was a bird but i can’t remember the title

however— dom alpha bts has such a hard grip on me, and pack dynamics always make me swoon

nesting 🥲 and the courting gifts being super soft blankets and pillows for the m/c that smell like the rest of the pack and maybe the m/c is really fussy about texture :( and maybe she likes to fuss over her alphas before bed because she knows where she likes them :(

scruffing from the pack alpha ALWAYS DOES THINGS TO ME IDK WHY I GIGGLE WHEN IT HAPPENS the thought of like just turning to jelly in an alphas lap as they pet over your back :(

so so so much scenting as well, especially if the m/c wanted to go out, maybe you can even scent mark someone by cumming on them, and jungkook would be the most possessive, imagine the m/c waking up to jungkook towering over her, her panties pulled down to her thighs as he runs his cock through her folds, a smug smile on his face when he cums all over her and it takes more than a few showers for the scent of alpha cum to go away

YUH KNOTTING especially knot slut m/c who cant get enough of warming her alphas’ knots, or just sucking on the tips of their cocks as they watch tv because she just needs something in her mouth especially when she’s on the cusp of her heat

the breeding kink

would be so so good

especially if either of them were in rut or heat, i feel like the m/c would love love love just being stuffed full of cum, tugging on the backs of their shirts when she feels too empty and maybe even a few tears dribbling down her cheeks so her alphas will say yes (though they’d never actually say no to her, it’s cute seeing her so desperate)

maybe they’d make her cum from just playing with her tail, tugging on it meanly until her panties are ruined as you mouthing at her alpha’s cock, pitiful whines tumbling off her tongue like liquid gold and you know the alphas would eat that up so fast

RAH I COILD WRITE A WHOLE FIC FOR THIS IDEA THETES SO MANT POSSIBILITIES

[robin-nightwing-agent37]

There is a poetic tragedy that Jason has twice tried to make a confession to Barbara Gordon and they don’t get received; the cruel fate of Jason’s life. Being on the cusp of having something and it being ripped away from him. First with his being Robin and making a life for himself with Bruce. Jason didn’t want to be a criminal and Bruce offered him a way out, but that was taken from him when he died. And Jason was okay with just being Jason Todd and found value outside of the Robin costume; as Red Hood he is so blinded by his own beliefs there was no room for anything else.

I’ll admit I liked two confessions way more than the confessions/time he has given his other relationships because it gives us a better insight to who Jason is as a person and what he values in other people.

Look I’m not good at this kind of thing, Barbara...but I just...I can’t help but feel like there’s something here. Something between us. I don’t think either of us expected it, but I mean, it’s there. You’re incredible. And working with you, it’s made me want to be better. A better friend, a better ally, a better person...but maybe...I don’t know...maybe. -Batman Eternal

Dear Barbara, I want to make a change. But I can’t do that without you. And I know I come across as cold and distant. But I know you know why. I’ve always admired you, Barbara. Your Strength. Your Determination. Your Heart. You think that what happened between us was a mistake. That it was a moment. But I think we can be really great together, I really do. I’ll give up being Red Hood for us. I can be something else. Or I can be just Jason. All I need is one chance to prove to you I can be better. And I will devote my life to making you proud. Happy. Loved. If you don’t think I’m worth one chance, it it was all you just caught up on everything, then throw this letter away. I’ll never mention it. I’ll even understand. Whatever happens, I love you. Yours, Jason. - Three Jokers

I have no say in shipping wars and don’t care for them, but seeing the hatred this ship gets is silly and childish when Barbara and Dick have been written childishly and horribly for years now.

I agree that it’s silly that people hate this ship simply because they prefer another one. Calling Jason an incel or a man child for this really exposes some of the more petty and just plain childish.

[diannabridden]

[V][D]

@itsvinzenzdarling The vampire followed her in her lead, swinging the bottles gently as he strolled leisurely. Dianna’s nerves were strong enough to cause a knot to form in his gut. Or was it his own emotions? At times like this, when one is more overwhelming than the other, it was hard to differentiate which was his and the other’s. By now, he had gotten so used to being smothered by unsolicited emotions and moods, it was like second nature to him. But on the occasion that he might be feeling the same, or it’s so intense that he simply can’t focus, it felt new to him. He hoped she would at least enjoy herself tonight.

“A place that I had scoped out before on one our many outings as teams. I’ve been to this place a few times and narrowed it down to ‘which establishments are appropriate for a first date.’ That’s why I’m….partially thankful you dressed for the occasion. The other partiality is that I think you look cute. Ahem–It’s B-Y-O-B, which is why I brought a little something along,” he said, rattling the bottles a bit for emphasis. “You don’t seem like a wine person, so I went with something general. If it’s not at all to your liking, I can pick up something else. T’is no trouble.”

Alright, it’s a little bit of trouble because then he’d have to run and get another brand which would delay their date, but he wasn’t going to admit that and make her feel bad. He can count on one hand how many dates he had in the past that ended awfully. Practice makes perfect. Tonight was supposed to be fun, not worrying about the right thing to say or do.

Walking most likely was the best way for the pair of them to get to where they were going simply because it was in an environment that Dianna was familiar with, seeing as she often would climb on top of her camper or go hang out in her keep whenever she was stressed or feeling some kind of way, just enjoying the smell of the trees and the quiet around them. With them being on the cusp of spring it was nice enough out that she wasn’t dying from the cold, and the smell of everything on the verge of blooming was enough to help smooth down a little of that anxious edge to her emotions. Though no amount of trees could stop the quick flush of pink that shot to her face when Vin explained he was thankful she had dressed for the occasion, and then so casually threw in that he thought she looked cute, making her fingers spin the strand of hair she played with around her fingers with anxious speed. Needless to say taking a compliment wasn’t her strong suit.

“Ha....yeah, I’ve neveh really got inta wine.” She agreed softly as she stepped right over his previous statement to focus on something she could handle at the moment. “‘Course mostly everyone I know doesn’t really drink it either. So maybe it was just shit wine.” Yep. Talking about alcohol was a lot safer than talking about her looks and what he thought of them. Or worse, his looks and what she thought of those. “No, no. It’s fine. I’ll drink just about any kind. An’...thanks for bringing some with us. ‘Course if ya were wantin’ ta get me drunk, Whiskey would be a betteh bet.” Her laugh was soft and low and just a little awkward as she realized what she said, and how much that statement was actually true, or the possible outcomes if he had decided to bring that instead of beer. She really should have had more to drink before he arrived.

“So....uh, ya look like yer tha wine kind of person. I mean with just tha way ya usually dress, I’d guess that.” When it came to looks Vinzenz for sure looked like he was some top shelf wine or some other fancy drink that people would spend a lot of money on for just a glass, while she felt like she looked like that can of beer that got stuck in the back of the fridge that people forgot about. “Or are ya one of those champagne people? That stuffs pretty fancy right?” Giving the medic a small half teasing glance as she questioned him on his tastes, though the huntress was more or less rambling a little at this point to try and fill the silence to attempt to keep things from feeling more awkward. 

[todoscript]

SEQUEL TO  “don’t forget it”

SYNOPSIS: One week after accidentally blowing you off on your date, Bakugou Katsuki seeks your forgiveness.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

genre: fluff, very little angst

word count: 5.4k+

warnings: none really accept maybe a character sustaining an injury

author’s note: hellooooo this is a very very very late part 2 of my don’t forget it drabble that many people asked for! i hope this lived up to your expectations and was worth the wait!

Since the events that led you to leave Bakugou’s room in a fit of bitterness after attempting to penetrate that thick head of his, he hadn’t been able to speak to you for a week.

It goes without saying he did his best to chase you down the hallway from his room and toward the elevator the moment he realized his faults. But at the stink eye you shot him through the minimizing slit of the elevator doors sliding into place, he knew he had no right to reconcile with you after pulling a stunt like that. Nor did he think you’d want to spare him any more words to begin with. It was clear you were done arguing with him.

“C’mon man, it’s probably best to let her cool down before you try to make up with her,” was the advice Kirishima offered when Bakugou returned to his room, disgruntled as he heavily fell back into his seat next to the desk. He did the bare minimum to acknowledge his friend’s words with a grunt before resuming tutoring the redhead, his method of teaching suddenly harsher than how it began thanks to his soured mood. He lapsed the day away by pounding Kirishima with problems upon problems against that hard noggin of his, both literally and figuratively.

At the very least, Kirishima earned himself a passing grade on their exam as a result of his hard work and their rigorous tutoring sessions. But what followed Bakugou’s and your relationship was still undetermined.

Days later and you were relentless in giving him the cold shoulder.

Bakugou was met with nothing but empty glances and blatant disinterest whenever he crossed your path. It felt like the wall you slotted between him grew another layer at each encounter, your defenses so impenetrable, it could give Kirishima’s quirk a run for its money. He couldn’t so much as utter a word in your direction without you effectively dodging every possible interaction in favor of joining another conversation nearby.

At first, Bakugou shrugged it off, calling your “childish attitude” unwarranted for something he thought was incredibly trivial. In his eyes, it was just an ordinary date at some run-of-the-mill restaurant he just happened to suggest to you because he took a liking to their spicy food. Not like it was some fancy dinner reservation serving caviar on dry toast beside a pretty, city night skyline. To him, it was nothing special.

However, as the week continued to roll by, it became clear to him how much he hurt you due to his selfishness. In a hangout with the Bakusquad, he learned that you apparently told Mina, along with the rest of the girls, everything during one of your girls’ nights. Which included the events prior to your heated argument in Bakugou’s dorm. And Mina, being just as peeved as you were at how Bakugou stood you up that day, had to let the blond know of the damage he’d done.

.

.

“I swear, Bakugou Katsuki, I know you can be an asshole sometimes—”

“Make that all the time,” Sero quietly adds in the middle of Mina’s rant while he lounges backward on Kaminari’s bed. If it wasn’t for his current dilemma, Bakugou would have elbowed him in the back of the head.

“—but this is crossing the line!” she finishes. Her arms are thrown exaggeratedly over her chest. The amber surrounded by the black scleras of her eyes points a beady look at the ash-blond crisscrossed on the floor between Kirishima and Kaminari.

“Poor girl sat there for hours waiting for you, only to find out she got blown off because you couldn’t even properly check your reminders!” She paces back and forth in the room, feet excessively stepping across the floor as she’s engulfed by the emotions she feels for her friend. “What’s worse? She comes back and finds out you’ve been doing your own thing with Kirishima the whole time!”

“Hey! It’s not like we were playing around! We were actually having a very serious study grind, thank you very much,” the redhead immediately clarifies. Though his explanation doesn’t alleviate Bakugou’s case in the slightest, who pounds his palms against the surface of the table they’ve gathered around.

“Look. I fucking get it, Ashido. I screwed up, okay?! Now what the fuck do you want me to do about it?!” he exclaims, anger overpowering his voice, but it does little to deter Mina.

“Fix it, obviously!” she quips back with equal fierceness, leaning in eye level with Bakugou.

“And how do you propose I do that, Raccoon Eyes? Hah?” Repositioning his elbow to rest on the table, he leans his cheek against his hand. “Y/n won’t even let me within five fucking feet in front of her and you still expect me ‘fix this’?”

Despite the situation weighing heavily on his shoulders, no immediate answer is bestowed upon him. That is, except the obnoxiously loud crinkle of a chip bag popping open next to Bakugou that cleaves into the scene like a record scratch. As if unable to read the mood in his own room, Kaminari fishes a chip to throw in his mouth, stirring the awkward silence into tension.

“Wow, Bakugou. I know you’re bad with girls and all, but you really messed up this time,” he remarks. His voice is slightly muffled as he munches his chips, continuing to wrinkle the bag for more. It incites a vein to swell on Bakugou’s forehead. He amasses all the willpower within him not to blast the bag of chips to ash, and the boy alongside it.

“If you dunce faces are just gonna sit here and throw salt in my wound then I’m outta here.”

“No, wait!” Kirishima catches Bakugou’s wrist before he fully lifts himself off the floor. “Come on, Bakugou, I’m sure we can think of something! We just need to put our heads together! Right, guys?” he assures. Finding it hard to deny his friend’s hardened conviction, Bakugou gives Kirishima the benefit of the doubt, albeit with slumped shoulders and a tentative raise of his brow as he slowly sits back down.

“Right! Everyone, let’s get some brainstorming done!” Mina yells encouragingly.

The atmosphere of Kaminari’s room is consumed by moderately thoughtful silence for the next ensuing minutes. A few hums pass, followed by an exchange of contemplative looks as four of the five rack their heads together to uncover a solution. The one in need of help only hunches in his seat, waiting with mild disinterest.

“Oh hey, don’t we have hero training with All Might tomorrow?” Sero is the first to comment, scooting to the edge of the blond’s bed.

“Yeah. So?”

“He said we were going to work on group exercises this time around. You know, teamwork and stuff,” he explains further.

At that, Mina snaps her fingers, the work of a brilliant idea flickering in her head. “Sero, that’s it! Tomorrow, during training, we’ll just form a group together with Y/n! After all, she’ll have to talk to Bakugou if you two are on the same team!” She claps her hands in front of her, her enthusiasm rippling through her body and shown energetically with each raise of her voice. “Then, while the rest of us ‘split up’ to cover more ground, that will be your chance to make everything better with Y/n! It’s genius!”

“You missed one fucking crucial detail, Pinky,” Bakugou gruffs. “That will only work if Y/n doesn’t join another group. The moment she sees I’m on yours, she’s not even going to hesitate making a u-turn.”

“Worry not~ I’ll just text all the girls except Y/n about the plan later and ask them to help sort everyone out!” She solves the problem with relative ease—quick as a click of her phone lighting up and finger sliding open to her messages.

“Uh, another thing though.” Kirishima raises his hand to spare his concern. “All Might says we’ll be splitting into groups of five at most, but there’s already five of us here.”

There’s a brief moment of deadpanning until Mina speaks casually. “Oh, that’s right. Kaminari. Take one for the team and make sure to join another group, ‘kay?” She settles without batting a lash.

Kaminari almost chokes on a mouthful of chips. “H-Huh?! What?! Why me?!!” he sputters.

“Because you’ve been eating chips this entire time and haven’t contributed to anything.”

“Hey, I offered the room, didn’t I?!” He tries justifying but is inevitably rejected by Mina’s wagging finger.

“Ah-ah, no complaints! Besides, it’s only one day of training. If we want this dilemma between Bakugou and Y/n fixed then we all have to play our part, got it?” Mina finalizes with a firm point of her finger nearly grazing the tip of the blond’s nose as he leans back to avoid it, eyebrows scrunched in discontent at the role he’s been reduced to.

“Alllllright!” Kirishima springs from his seat with outstretched arms and tightened fists. “Operation: Get Y/n to Forgive Explosion Boy is underway!”

“Dude, that’s a terrible name!” Sero laughs but rises from the bed to join the redhead’s cheer alongside Mina, the group already in high spirits.

Despite rolling his eyes at their swell of confidence, Bakugou does not object to the state of things. As crazy as it sounds, one could almost decipher the cusp of a grin pulling the seams of his lips as a possible sign he’s actually all for this extravagant little plan. Quite a first for Bakugou, but then again, there’s not much else he can do in this situation except rely on his pack of chumps.

Meanwhile, Kaminari grumbles something beneath the salty grit between his teeth.

“Alright, can you all get out of my room now?”

.

.

The scowl etched on your face carries a strong air of disdain that dampens the mood around your teammates considerably. Well, no one should be surprised. With Bakugou standing across from you, staring into the void of your expression, it’s to be expected that you wouldn’t be happy with this outcome.

No, “unhappy” doesn’t quite do your circumstance justice. You are beyond livid.

You feel your eyebrow twitch as you try quivering your lips to form a tinge of a smile. Unfortunately, all that quickly falls apart when you suddenly recall the disaster of last week, triggered by an accidental glance at Bakugou’s mug.

Trying to simmer down, you release a mental sigh amidst the turmoil boiling inside you.

Okay, maybe you’re over-exaggerating. Maybe you’re still just a bit too bitter for your own good and letting your emotions get to you. But in a class of twenty or some students, how did you end up in a group with the one person you were actively trying to avoid?

The moment All Might gave everyone the go-ahead to form their teams for today’s training exercise, you swiftly made a beeline toward two particular star students. Midoriya and Todoroki.

It was simple really. Your experiences throughout the school year told you Bakugou planned on staying away from his rivals when it came to teamwork, regardless of whether you’re there or not. He’s a competitive ass whose goal is to beat anyone he deems a threat in his climb to be the number one hero. It’s only logical you partner with people he adamantly dislikes to evade him.

Yet it seems fate has other plans for you today. By the time you found yourself pacing over to the two students you had in mind, they’d already gone and picked their own group members, forming teams before you could even ask.

Your nose wrinkles like you’ve taken a whiff of something rancid. Or, to be more specific, something fishy. Hooking an arm around Mina’s elbow, you drag the pink-haired girl off to a corner somewhere while tilting your head back at the three other boys.

“Ex. Cuse. Us.” Your words sound as stiff as cardboard. It comes out in practically a hiss when your eyes cross Bakugou. Once you’re positive you’re out of earshot, you whip your head at Mina.

“Mina, what the hell? When you dragged me over here to form a group with you you didn’t tell me he’d be there,” you groan. Childish and petty as you may sound, you just couldn’t fathom the idea of confronting the boy so soon.

Mina holds her hands out, ready to rationalize the whole ordeal. “C’mon Y/n, this is actually an advantage for us! With us four plus you on our team, we’re sure to knock the rest of the other guys out during training today! I mean we showed pretty good teamwork together at the sports festival, didn’t we?”

Steadying your gaze, you hold a finger below your chin as you slowly buy into the explanation. The reasoning is there. It’s hard to argue against a case like that, fully aware that being on the same team as explosion boy will easily snag good results for you and your party. ‘Cause as much of an arrogant jerk as he is, you have to admit Bakugou Katsuki knows his way around hero action like the back of his grenade gauntlets.

“Besides it’s not like you could avoid him for the entire school year. I mean, you two are in the same class. It was only a matter of time before you had to—”

“I know, Mina,” you interject, not wanting the rest of her sentence about the inevitable fall to your ear. “I just… Agh, you know what I mean!” You ruffle your hands through your hair in confliction, unsure how to piece your thoughts together.

Tilting your head over Mina’s shoulder, you sneak a glimpse at Bakugou, watching him as he’s cast to the side with the others. He’s fending himself from Kirishima and Sero’s combined jokes, that usual look on his face sending glares at the two and yelling something you could almost pick up on if you honed your ears a bit more. Surprisingly, when his eyes meet yours for a split second, he stands there looking nonchalant again. Both of you immediately avert your gazes.

Mina pats your shoulder, bringing you back to the conversation at hand. “I know, I know, but after this, I’m sure you can go back to ignoring his ass. After all, it’s just one training exercise, right?” she says. As her words deliver some relief to your ill-timed situation, you give in with a sigh.

Unbeknownst to you, turning your back to Mina and striding toward the rest of your teammates again, you miss the small glint in her yellow eyes, along with the subtle gestures she aims at the three boys, waving her pointed thumbs over your head secretively.

“So I take it you’re on the team with us, Y/n?” Sero asks when the two of you return. You nod in reply and the boy flashes his pearly whites in a wide grin that Kirishima mirrors. He nudges Bakugou at his sides which you subtly catch in the far corner of your eye.

You raise a brow suspiciously at their fidgeting, wondering why having you on their team warrants such enthusiasm, but you’re thankful for their energy at least. Someone has to lift the atmosphere for this not to be a complete drag and Bakugou surely isn’t going to be the mood maker of the group.

The blond scoffs. “Yeah, well, if you dumbasses are going to form a team with me, you’ll follow under my leadership, got it?”

The three readily agree. Though you roll your eyes, you don’t challenge his position, considering no one else is that much up to the task as he is. You’ll simply have to deal with the fact that you’re forced to tread through the day under his leadership. So with no objections, the five of you walk back to the class, gathering around the entrance of today’s battlefield.

Jumping into the activity, All Might goes about explaining today’s lesson to the four sets of teams—consisting of a group exercise to heighten teamwork. The name of the game? Capture the flag.

In short, each team will be split off into different sections of the labyrinth where their assigned flag is stationed. The objective is to not only protect your flag from being stolen but also try and steal an opposing team’s flag from their base and escort it safely to your home field. Nice and simple.

Not long after All Might’s explanation, the gate to the training grounds opens and you all scatter off into your teams, navigating through the twists of the maze to locate your flags. Once your group situated themselves onto your home base, you assemble in a huddle to devise a strategy before the game starts.

“So what’s the plan?” Kirishima asks, eyes darting around his teammates until they rest on Bakugou—the team leader. The ash-blond crosses his arms, a confident sneer plastered on his face as he’s already thought of his plan of action the moment All Might announced the mission.

“Easy. I’m going straight to the front-lines to swipe one of those dumbasses’ flags. You lot are gonna stay here and guard ours until I come back.” He delivers the strategy in a matter-of-fact tone that you quickly don’t take a liking to. Your fist curls in irritation.

“What kind of a plan is that?” you question audaciously, your voice louder than you intended. “So you’re just going to do all the work while we sit around and wait for you?”

Bakugou grits his teeth, leaning further into the huddle to direct his senseless logic. “Look, it’s the fastest and most surefire way to snag our victory without sacrificing anyone,” he says. Playing over his words again, he finds it surprising he even chooses to offer his reasoning. Because if it were anyone other than you he was arguing with, he’s certain he’d leave it at that.

Knowing the current tension between you was a result of his misjudgment, it feels only right for Bakugou to make an effort in communication. He ignores the antsy expressions belonging to the others who signal from behind you to follow along with their original plan.

You don’t seem to catch the hint, nor do you buy into his ridiculous strategy. “Oh, so you’re that confident you won’t get taken out by the other team then?” you quip. As a result, Bakugou’s brows tighten at your noncompliance.

“I know how to take care of myself. You of all people should realize by now that no other nerd in this whole damn class can outmatch me.”

“And what about an ambush? How do you know they simply won’t anticipate your strategy and see you coming?” You fire another counterargument and the boy purses his lips, beginning to find this quarrel spiraling into a headache rather than a step in the direction of reconciliation.

While Sero and Kirishima stand there, shifting their heads back and forth throughout the fiery exchange, Mina speedily reacts. The gears of that cunning mind of hers click into place again.

“You know what, Y/n’s right. Why don’t you two go together then?” she proposes boldly. Her suggestion catches you by complete surprise. You veer in her direction with an incredulous look blown in your eyes.

Before you can open your mouth to protest, the two boys standing beside her immediately back her up.

“Hm, Mina has a point. The chances of you falling into a trap wouldn’t be much if you two work together,” Sero remarks.

Kirishima follows, “Yeah, you guys can watch each other’s backs while going to collect the flag! It’s safer to go in a pair than by yourselves I’d say.”

The three seem adamant about the idea, sharing equally content expressions, and with all that said, you find it hard to dig yourself out of this situation. In a way, you practically volunteered yourself after questioning Bakugou’s plan and doubting his abilities. The group only feels it’s right you come along as his support since you clearly must be worried about his well-being.

Pushing your objections down your throat, you reluctantly agree to tag along with the blond. What you find exceptionally shocking is how Bakugou doesn’t oppose these new conditions. Given his hard-headed temperament, you thought he would’ve scoffed and turned his back at being paired without notice, but no such things were happening here.

...Odd.

“Tch, whatever. Let’s get going then,” is all he gives, starting in the direction into the urban area of the training course.

You trail behind him. “Coming, Boom-Boy…” you mutter the last bit but don’t suppress the urge to let your words be known. Bakugou turns his head and gives you a look akin to an uptight six-year-old you just offended at your local playground. You shrug in response, a corner of your lip pinched upward. He doesn’t pick a fight over the nickname, but his eyebrows remain fiercely slanted, and coupled with his heavy steps and the excessive swinging of his gauntlet-clad arms, it tells you of his emotional constipation plain as day.

.

.

The journey toward the other teams’ flags is cloaked in strained silence and the physical gap between you two does not encourage any of you to speak up. At this point, both of your levels of annoyance for each other have mellowed out. Now it just feels... awkward—strange. You don’t see his expression, nor does he see yours. It feels like you’re being left in the dark, having only the back of Bakugou’s head to stare at the entirety of the way, and though you supposedly have his back, Bakugou feels precarious in this state as he trudges along at the front, not daring to turn his head to cross your eyes.

The ambiance is reminiscent of the ancient Greek legend of Orpheus and Eurydice. Where Bakugou walks through the depths of the underworld, seeking you out in hopes you’d join his side once again. If he turns around now and spills his thoughts to you too soon, he fears that your forgiveness would be whisked away, thoroughly beyond his reach, and replaced with your promises of retribution.

That was the eloquent version of the situation anyway. To put it bluntly, Bakugou was just impatient as hell to say something to you. The silence suffocates him to the point where the words are nearly about to be squeezed out of his throat, but he bites his lip to snuff out the urges.

The more he keeps them in, the more fidgety he becomes, hands itchy and mouth trembling with grit between his teeth. The idea of not letting his voice be heard was something Bakugou detested. Mainly because it was already such a challenge to even keep his mouth shut, given his fiery attitude and lack of patience.

Man, what the hell am I hesitating for? he asks himself, that outspoken side of him spurring him on.

Ah, screw the uncertainty, he thinks. If he doesn’t say anything now, then he won’t get to say anything ever.

Bakugou stops in his tracks, turning his head. Here goes nothing,

“Hey, Y/n, I–”

“Katsuki–”

Words collide into each other, jumbled and incoherent, which take you two by surprise as you meet each other’s furrowed gazes. It’s quiet as you both piece your way through this, eyes trained like you haven’t seen each other in months when the reality is that a week of bitterness has somehow made you act like strangers. The bewildered look crossing his features is foreign to you; you’ve never quite seen Bakugou as taken aback as he is now.

“You first,” you grant before Bakugou could mix up your words again. Even being given permission, the blond still isn’t sure what to say, his thoughts lost on him the moment his voice clashed with yours. He takes a deep breath, calming his senses and steadying his mind for what he wants to convey.

“Look, Y/n, I don’t know how to put this as nicely as I can,” he begins, tone consistent yet wary, assessing your expression, “but I know I fucked up and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you there all by yourself. I shouldn’t… have blown you off like that and forgotten about you.” He delivers this bluntly—honestly—as open as a boy of his nature can muster with arms spread out, willingly exposing him to his faults and your reprisals.

Looking at you, he finds your eyes are cast to the floor, assuming to be reflecting on his words carefully. After some deliberation, you come across the vermillion in his eyes.

“Frankly, I haven’t entirely forgiven you just yet. But I will say that despite how I’ve been acting, I’m not as mad at you as you think,” is what you give, and Bakugou would be lying to himself if he didn’t achieve relief at your statement. He mentally releases a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding throughout the exchange. However, you aren’t done yet.

“I just want you to understand what moments like those mean to me. It’s during that time where I can share my feelings and learn more about you—understand who you are,” you say. Bakugou latches onto every word. “And it goes both ways, you know. It’s hard to want to stay in a relationship with someone who doesn’t make an effort to make time for you.” It’s obvious you aim that comment at him as Bakugou’s eyes soften slightly hearing it. His calloused, glove-clad hands wrap into his palms. Man, he really was a jerk.

“Still… I know you’re making an effort to be sincere and that you’re genuinely sorry for what happened, especially considering how the others seem to have set this whole conversation up, right?” Bakugou winces over the Bakusquad’s ploy coming to light and makes a note not to follow along next time unless those dummies can scrape up a more elaborate plan.

Despite that, he presses on, “So, what does this mean?” A smile settles on the curve of your lips, sensing his impatience as his voice hastens you along.

“Well…” you begin, speech drawn out in anticipation as you step toward him to where Bakugou follows your movements. That is until he catches a few shadowy figures shifting around atop the small building behind you. Before you can open your mouth to continue, his instincts flare to life.

“Hey, look out!” he exclaims, already acting on his warnings by lunging forward to push you out of the way. Your breaths draw back into your lungs, your body thrust abruptly into the opposite direction. Landing on your butt, you wince at both the shock and the pain, but your whines desist when you witness Bakugou taking a force to the head as a result of coming to your aid.

“Katsuki!” you yell, immediately getting off the ground to rush to his side, but he can’t find it in himself to respond. Afflicted with a substantial blow to the crown of his head, his whole being throbs and his vision spins.

Fuck, is Y/n, okay? is the first thing on his mind, ignoring the liquid trickling down his forehead. His question is answered upon turning his head to meet your anxious expression—your eyes wide and lips quivering as they move to say words he can’t exactly make out beneath the pounding sensations consuming his mind. As he feels a set of arms wrap around him, he tries discerning his surroundings to form a reply, but can only capture bits and pieces.

“—tsuki! ...old… n!”

“...god—! I’m so dead!”

A sputter of words tangling together is the last he hears before his vision fades to black.

.

.

The next time Bakugou awakes, his eyes slowly sever open to come face-to-face with a blurry white ceiling. The lights assault his vision as his senses take time to adjust, unraveling the environment to realize he’s laying on a bed—a hospital bed to be precise.

He attempts lifting himself but is met with retaliation in the form of his pulsating head which he immediately flinches at. His hand goes to rub his scalp to soothe the ache and he finds bandages wrapped tightly around him. “What the hell happened?” The last he remembers is traversing the urban area with you for the capture the flag mission before finally confronting the subject that had been plaguing your minds for a week now. After that, he caught sight of some object descending toward you and before he had even realized it, his feet had moved on their own. Next thing he knows, he’s waking up in the nurse’s office with a headache from hell.

Wait, what about you? Were you okay? Surely, he had to have pushed you out of the way in time, right?

His head moves quicker than it should’ve, revealing the other hospital bed in the room to be unoccupied, vacant. He sighs and his relief is further bolstered by the door to the nurse’s room opening to unveil you unharmed with only your heavy look of concern troubling him.

“Katsuki, oh thank god, you’re okay!” you say, quickly pacing over to his side with a glass of water in hand. You leave it at his bedside, sitting before him. Gauging your appearance up and down, Bakugou tries making out even the smallest details.

“You aren’t hurt?”

You’re appalled he would ask this despite clearly being the one patched up in a hospital bed right now, and likely sporting some serious head trauma.

“Of course I am, you’re the one that lunged forward to protect me,” you tell him. Bakugou looks down at his lap, figuring that was what happened, but hearing it from you comforted him more than he thought. However, his comfort is wretched from him by the intense pressure persisting in his skull. Seeing him in pain, you urge him to lay down and rest.

“How the hell did I end up here anyway?”

You fidget with your fingers, hesitating on answering. At that, the blond lifts a brow, suspicious.

“Mineta… accidentally dropped a rock on your head.”

“...You gotta be joking, right?”

Bakugou leers hard, finding the reason he was out of commission to be a damn pebble hitting his head a detriment to his pride. And because of Mineta of all fucking people. Still, if he hadn’t acted as quickly as he did, you would’ve been the one to meet his fate instead, and he weighed this outcome to better than the former.

Then you explain how the teachers had temporarily intervened to bring his unconscious body to the nurse’s, where the old lady went about tending to his injury. Said she did her job and all he needed was to rest and let her quirk take fuller effect within that time.

“So did we win the game?” He switches the topic to today’s mission of capture the flag that was cut short on his end.

You shake your head, but at least grant him the benefit of knowing Mineta’s team ended up placing last. At that, his eyelids shut and he crosses his arms behind his bandaged head. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t my intention to win anyway.”

You give him a look. “...Liar.”

Bakugou cracks an eye open at you. “Hah? What do you mean I’m a fucking liar?”

“I know you, Katsuki. I dated you, after all. And the Katsuki that I dated is an arrogant, competitive jerk who thinks of being the best above all else.” Bakugou scrunches his nose, wondering what you’re implying through your... overly frank descriptions. “Still… he’s sweet and caring at times… and reliable when he needs to be,” you continue, tone softening that draws Bakugou in, “And the kind of guy I want to give a second chance to.”

Absorbing your words, Bakugou blinks. “S-Seriously?” He doesn’t mean to stutter, but the offer catches him off-guard. He replays what you just said. That’s what he heard, right? A second chance?

You giggle at how uncharacteristically astonished he sounds. “Yes, seriously.”

“Does that mean you forgive me for what happened last week?”

You hum between pursed lips in playful contemplation. “Well, maybe you can redeem yourself by going on another date with me then?”

Hearing your proposal, a wide grin arcs his lips, edging into a smirk.

“That’s it? Well, I can definitely fucking do that,” he states, confidence rejuvenating his body at the new, hopeful chance before him.

“Oh, just one more thing though,” you suddenly add.

“What?”

“We are not going to that Chinese Restaurant again.”

[im-in-vin-ci-ble]

Bestieee~ This is long but can I request a Mark x fem reader where he’s dating eve and readers a strong solo hero who happens to catch his eye after finding out she works with cecil and they officially meet when Cecil sends her out to help Atom eve and Mark with a villain and after instead of helping his gf he introduces himself to reader and gets all nervous and she finds and calls him really cute so she asks if he’s taken and he says no and she tells him to give her a call if they ever wanna go out together, eve asks what was that about (she didn’t hear the convo) he says nothing and they go home and sooner or later reader and mark hook up leading to them falling for each and catching feelings and one day they took it to the next level and it’s was very heated and they end up confessing and having another heated make out session only for eve to come and find them in the act and she’s heartbroken and argues with Mark infront of reader, eventually eve storms out but mark doesn’t go after her he apologizes to reader that he lied and she’s okay with it and they stay together

(It can be as explicit as you want and can Marks parents really adore reader and they also go to the same school, I’m sorry this is so long 🥲)

A/N: omg hey bestie so sorry this took a while! this was loooooong and is the last request in my inbox before Love They Neighbour 2!

Pairing: Mark Grayson x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit AF

Warnings: smut!! on!! smut!! cheating, swearing, angst, etc

Summary: You captivated Mark the moment you swooped in to help, but he should have been more honest with you before things got intense.

As you landed the final hit on the last Mauler twin standing, you watched as he fell on the pavement and created a crater around his gigantic blue being. You let out a sigh of exhaustion when your feet touched back on the ground, relieved that it was done and over with.

"Excuse me?"

You turned around and saw Invincible hovering towards you, his blue and yellow suit tarnished from the action.

"Hi, sorry, I should have introduced myself before I jumped in," you said, walking to where he landed. "Cecil sent me here."

"Oh... so you, uh, work for the GDA," he replied feebly.

"I do, just started actually," you informed him.

"That was..." he pointed at the knocked out Mauler twin, "that was a nice blow."

You crossed your brows, "I'm sorry?"

"Sorry! No! I meant... I meant..." he stuttered. "Like that was... t-that was a good... hit! A good hit!" Mortified, he placed his hand on his forehead and shook his head, and you could swear there was a tinge of pink creeping up on his cheeks.

You laughed at the boy, who is one of the strongest people on this planet, as he fell apart in front of you. "Thank you," you simply replied, keeping it short to keep him from feeling more embarrassed. "Anyway, I should report back—"

"I'm Invincible," he cut you off, reaching his hand out.

You looked down at his hand that was trembling, then back up to his face that still had that smile on. "I'm Y/N," you replied with your superhero name, shaking his hand slowly.

"Shit, I just realized I cut you off," he suddenly said, placing his hand on his forehead again. "I was gonna say thank you for helping Atom Eve and I out with the twins but I just got so caught up in my own thoughts that I..." he trailed off, "that I started rambling. Shit, sorry."

"Don't worry about it," you responded with an audible giggle, "I'll let it pass because you're cute."

His lips formed into a wide smile, "You... You think I'm cute?"

"I do," you nodded, biting your lower lip. "Are you seeing anyone?"

"No!" he exclaimed almost immediately. "No, no, I... I'm not."

"Well do you maybe wanna go out some time?" you asked. "Our dating pool is quite limited and I think you're probably the best catch out there right now."

"I-I would love to," he stammered as he fumbled to get his phone, which is miraculously still in tact, out of his pocket. "Give me your number, I'll text you!"

As you typed your phone number on the screen, you looked up at his face that was beaming with so much excitement, his mask could have melted off. You swiftly returned his phone and winked, "Call me," and you flew off — that was a good exit.

His eyes followed you as you zoomed away, and his head began thinking of all the things he can/should say in his first text to you.

"Mark," a female voice broke his daydream, "what was that all about?"

He turned around and saw Eve, his girlfriend, standing there with an unsuspicious look on her face. "Nothing," he lied, clearing his throat. "Let's go home, I'm ready to just lay on my bed."

— — —

After going out on two (secret) study dates together, Mark finally accepted that he was in deep shit. He paced around his bedroom as he waited for you to come in through the window, internally panicking at two things: one, that he's catching real feelings for you and two, that Eve will find out.

"I can't lie to Eve forever, she'll know something's up," he mumbled to himself as he walked back and forth.

A soft gust of wind caught his attention and he looked up to see you gently closing his bedroom window. You cheerfully greeted him but the smile on your face quickly disappeared upon seeing the worried look on his.

"Is everything okay?" you asked.

"Yeah, I'm just, um..." he trailed off, looking up at the ceiling, "stressed about art class."

"Well I don't know how your class does it but it sounds like they're really giving you guys a tough time out there," you replied, moving close enough to him to wrap your arms around his neck.

He responded by placing his arms around your waist and pulling you closer. "It's a killer," he lied.

"Well you look like you need a stress reliever," you said in a low voice, leaning in to give him gentle kisses on the neck. "And I think I know just the thing," you added in a whisper.

Your lips on his neck sent shots of electricity up Mark's spine and his grip around your waist tightened. He used one hand to move your face back up across his and he immediately began kissing you, each one more deeper and more passionate than the last. He guided the both of you to his bed where you landed in synchronicity, and his hands were quick to pull up your shirt and unbutton your shorts.

"Mark, hey," you pulled away. "Are you okay?"

He took a deep breath, "Mmhm, I just need you right now."

The redness and look of restraint in his face was, admittedly, driving you crazy too; you resumed kissing him and proceeded to take off his clothes — which were luckily just a T-shirt and shorts — and his hand moved up and down your back until he decided to unhook your bra. He pulled away from your lips and dived down to your chest, sucking on your perky nipples as his one hand rubbed circles over your damp center. He was sending you into a frenzy and when you finally found the strength to speak, it was just his name.

"I need you right now," he repeated as he placed himself on top of you and stripped you of your last article of clothing.

Mark reached over to his bedside table and rolled down a condom in what seemed like mere seconds. Lining himself up to your entrance, you caught a glimpse of his throbbing cock as he fully slid himself inside you. A low moan escaped from both your lips while you adjusted to his length, and he slowly began picking up a rhythm and a steady pace. He leaned down and gave you a sloppy kiss as he moved with more force and speed, his fingers tangling with yours while you both lost yourself to each other.

"I need you," he moaned, "I need you right now."

You kissed him once more and replied breathily, "I'm right here. Fuck, Mark, I'm right here."

Keeping his forehead against yours and his speed and strength building up, he said the two words that brought you crumbling:

"Cum. Now."

The force, the rhythm, and the authority in his voice pushed you over edge. Your thighs tensed then weakened as you entered a whole new state of euphoria, and your soft moans together in the air sounded like a warm, harmonic song. Mark felt himself let go inside you and his pace slowed down to sporadic thrusts until he rolled over next to you, the both of you panting from all the emotions.

"Holy fuck," you said shakily. "That was..."

"Insane," he finished for you as he pulled the condom away and threw it to what he hoped was his trash bin.

"Mmhm," you whispered before turning your head to look at him.

You watched as Mark caught his breath, his sweaty and toned chest moving up and down. He extended his arm above you and you scooted closer, resting your head on his shoulder and placing your hand on his heaving his chest. You laid there in silence, the only audible noise being the humming of the air-conditioner.

"Y/N, I need to tell you something," Mark finally said.

"Yes?" you asked, tracing circles on his chest with your fingertip.

"I don't know how to say it," he started. "So I'm just going to. Don't freak out, please. And if you do, will you let me know so I can—"

"Mark," you cut him off, "just tell me."

He took a deep breath, "I think I'm falling in love with you."

"Really?" you giggled.

"Yeah, really," he replied. "It's cool if you don't... you know, feel the same way or whatever."

You chuckled and planted a tender kiss on his lips. "I feel too, you know," you said. "But I'm glad you said it first."

"Why?" he asked with a smile.

"Because," you shrugged. "If somebody asks, I can tell them you were the first one to break."

Mark laughed and began attacking you with kisses — on your neck, your cheeks, you forehead, your ears, your nose, anywhere he could plant one. You giggled as you tried to get away, feigning weakness while you enjoyed the moment. He finally managed to land a long one your lips, and that one kiss re-energized the heat you were just feeling earlier. His one hand gently cusped your breasts in turns, and you retaliated by rolling on top of him and moving his hands down to your ass. You moaned as Mark gave you a gentle squeeze, and he guided your hips to slowly move against him.

"God, I need you so bad," he said in between kisses.

"I'm all yours, baby," you responded quietly. "All yours, alw—"

"Mark?"

His focus shattered as that familiar voice rang in his ear. You quickly rolled off him, covering yourself with the blanket and looking up at a hovering Eve. Mark grabbed his shorts and quickly put them back on before walking towards Eve, extending his arms out in an attempt to keep her calm.

"Eve, before you say anything—"

"I can't believe you!" she yelled, the tears starting to roll down her cheeks. "I can't believe you would do this to me! I trusted you! I trusted her!" she added, pointing at you.

"Eve, she didn't know. Leave her out of this," Mark replied sternly, lowering his arms. "This is between you and me."

She slowly landed back down on the floor but didn't move a step; Eve was paralyzed with anger and sadness, bu mostly the former. "Why?"

"Look, Eve," he turned to look at you and returned his attention to his sobbing girlfriend. "I'm sorry I lied to you. But the truth is I just... I just stopped loving you. I haven't... loved you for a while now."

"And you couldn't be honest with me?" she asked.

"No, I couldn't," Mark answered, "and I'm sorry you had to find out this way. This is on me, okay?"

Eve sniffled, "Why did you stop loving me?"

"All we did was fight, Eve," he sighed, "all we did was fight and yell at each other until we got so tired of yelling, we'd just fall asleep. Then the next morning it's like nothing happened."

She sniffled and shook her head, still refusing to believe this was happening.

"We never solved anything. We never apologized to each other. It's like we were just staying together for the sake of it, or so that no one in the team could shit on us if we broke up," Mark added. "I'm sorry, Eve. I never meant for it to play out like this."

Eve looked up at him with a stone face, her eyes red and puffy. "I'm gonna fly out of that window, And if you don't follow, it means that you don't wanna solve this," she said, sniffling and pointing at his open bedroom window. "Make your choice, Mark."

He watched as he left her bedroom, the soft gust of wind flipping some of his comic books open. Mark walked towards the window and stared at Eve, who was now flying further and further away. When he could no longer see her silhouette in the sky, he shut his window.

"Mark, aren't you...?"

"No," he shook his head, "I didn't mean for this but I meant what I said to Eve."

He turned around and sat on the edge of the bed, keeping his eyes glued to the floor. "Y/N, I owe you an apology too," he sighed. "I should have told you about Eve. I should have broken it off with her before I started anything with you."

"Mark..."

He finally looked up at you, "I'm sorry, Y/N. I didn't want you to get caught in the middle of this." He sighed again, "I understand if you want to go and never talk to me again because I'm a total piece of shit. But please know I didn't want this to happen."

You sat there and stared at him — Invincible didn't look so invincible right now; he was ashamed and angry at himself. The teenage boy arrogantly flying through the skies like it was no big deal was sitting across you, defeated from the stupid decisions he admittedly made. There was a mixture of fear and embarrassment and sadness and guilt in his eyes, and he was ready for you to just get dressed and leave.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"W... What?"

You shook your head and moved next to him, keeping the blanket over your chest. "I forgive you," you explained to him. "What you did was shitty, yeah, but we all make mistakes. I know I've made my fair share."

"But this was a really big mistake," he said.

"I know," you replied, "but at least you can admit to it and learn from it."

He sighed, "You know, I meant what I said to you earlier... about me... you know, falling in love with you."

"I believe you, and I meant it too.”

You lied back down on the bed and patted the empty space next to you. Mark took up your offer and wrapped you in his arms, his nose buried in your hair as he kept you close to him.

“I promise I will never hurt you like this,” he whispered.

“I know.”

[luimagines]

Date Night with The Chain Part 2!

Masterlist

Part 1

Part two will include Four, Wild and Time!

Content under the cut!

Four

A sigh leaves your lips as you finally sit down after a long day.

There was a large stone jutting off of the side of a cliff where your group had decided to camp for the night. It had a high vantage point and the entrance was hidden by the surrounding foliage, making it a cozy secluded resting spot for ten weary travelers.

Your feet sighed with relief with the weight off of the them and you began to kick them back and forth. After some moment to yourself you pull your legs in and take off your shoes. 

You resume kicking your feet into the wind, more relieved than you were before without shame.

“Rupee for your thoughts, my darling?” You hear him come up from behind.

“No thoughts, head empty.” You snort and glance over your shoulder. “Join me?”

Four has his hands on his hips as he stands there, watching you with a calm smile and hearts in his eyes. “If you’d have me.”

“As if I could ever turn you away.” You look back out into the distance, pointedly ignoring the commotion of Legend tackling Warrior in the background.

Four doesn’t even try to hide his laughter when he sees what’s happened but comes to sit by your side regardless of what is happening with the others.

You watch him as he lowers himself down and are only marginally confused when he shifts to sit on his hip instead- oh no wait- Four leans over after shifting his body around to place his head directly into your lap.

You grin and waste no time in running your fingers through his hair, taking his hairband out and letting it all fall across your legs. “Comfortable?”

“Best spot, hands down.” Four snuggles a little close and turns his head to look beyond what the rock has to offer.

The sun has begun to set and even if your friends are busy losing their minds in the background it surprisingly easy to tune them out with Four by your side. As the sky turns from blue to orange and reds with the feint outline of purple at the top, you and Four watch the day end with gentle smiles on your faces.

On a whim you begin to braid his hair, letting them collect in number even if it’s messy and unorganized. 

“Having fun?” Four sighs and pokes your knee a little.

“Yes.”

“Good... Feels nice.”

You can’t help but grin to yourself and wait a minute before undoing it all and starting over with more purpose in mind. “I wish I had flowers or feathers or something... Maybe some ribbon... Make it look pretty and stuff.”

“And stuff?”

“And stuff.”

“Why not use my head band?”

“It’s too big and if I’m going to use ribbon it should be made out of silk or satin, only the highest quality of materials for my love.” You say and lean over to give him a kiss on his forehead.

“I don’t think it’s necessary.” Four raises an eyebrow and you can see that he’s on the cusp of falling asleep.

Everyone is tired.

“Maybe not but I say you deserve it, so it must be so.”

“I love you.” Four mumbles sleepily and you know that a this point if someone were to wake him up he’d be grumpy until the next morning.

“I love you too.” You smile and let him sleep against you.

The sun sets and it’s nice.

Wild

“Do you need any help?” You walk up to Wild as he’s beginning to take out whatever ingredients needed to get dinner started.

You stand a little ways behind him and wait for him to turn around. He pauses from arranging the vegetables and glances over his shoulder to look at you.

You smile as pleasantly as you can and laced your fingers together behind your back, trying to look at innocent as possible, trying to visually butter him up to let you help him.

Wild knows what you’re doing. You do this every time.

And every time he melts a little on the inside at your genuine joy and want to help him out. Not to mention that he thinks it’s cute and would give you his everything in a heartbeat before you could even ask.

“Of course you can help.” He grins and stands up. “I have to check the fire but do you think you can peel the potatoes and carrots for me please.”

“Sure!” You skip ahead and take his spot, picking up the peeler he left out and begin to get to work. 

“Thank you.” Wild smiles as he turns away again, picking the fire and checking the temperature. 

“You’re welcome.” 

“If you could cut them too, that would be nice.” 

“Are you asking me to?”

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

“Of course not.”

Wild smiles to himself at the exchange. The others are minding their own business, tending to their weapons or licking their wounds from the day and just simply hanging out with people who know what it’s like to be the hero more than any one in the history of Hyrule.

It’s nice.

Domestic even.

You start to hum a little tune that must be from your home because it seems like no one else can recognize it. It’s light and a little sappy if the way you’re swaying your head has anything to say about it.

Wild feels himself fall a little more in love with you, even if you’re not looking at him.

He’s been done with checking the fire for five minutes, but he doesn’t want you to stop for the sake of answering him again.

But he should probably start cooking the meat while the vegetables are being prepared.  

Wild slides over to your side and picks up the Shekah Slate from where he left it. He chances a glance at you and thinks... it’ll be a last minute change to the meal he’s prepared in his head, but maybe he’ll cook your favorite tonight instead.

You deserve it.

“Ok, what else Master Chef?” You look his way and blink, instantly going a little red in the face. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I just love you is all.” Wild leans in and kisses your forehead, snagging the cutting board from under you and spinning around to throw them into the pot.

“Hey...” You pout, trying to save face and failing. “That’s... not fair...”

“How is it not fair?” He laughs. “I didn’t do anything.”

“I... refuse to let you win.”

“Win what? What are you talking about?”

You step over and kiss his cheek. “You’re too good to me. And the carrots are going to burn.”

“Wha- Hey!” Wild spins back to attention and tries to save the carrots from the hot metal. “Ok- I- Hold up!”

“Do you want me to start cutting up the green beans too?” You smirk.

“This isn’t over.”

“Yes or no?”

“...”

“...”

“..Yes please.”

Time 

“Ok, I know you said we were going somewhere tonight but why are we sneaking out of the inn like teenagers?” You say as Time looks around the corner.

“Shh...” Time puts a finger to hip lips as he looks back at you. “Do you really think the boys wouldn’t try to follow us if they knew?”

“Is it that important for them to not come?” You tilt your head. Sure, they were a bit rambunctious at times and a bit more rowdy than you knew what to do with but they were good kids and you loved them all- so the secrecy was a little lost on you.

“Is it so wrong to want to spend an evening alone with the one I love?” Time turns to you and takes your hands in his, lifting them to kiss your knuckles. “Just for tonight?”

The thought of being alone together hadn’t even occurred to you and it’s embarrassing to have Time basically spell it out for you. A blush blooms across your face and you bite your lip with a quick glance to your toes. It has nothing to do with the kiss, you’re sure.

“Ok.” You whisper. “Ok, I’ll be quiet. Is the coast clear?”

Time smirks when he sees your reaction, more than pleased with himself before he turns around and checks around the corner one last time.

He grins and gives you his hand, holding you gently as you creep through the hallways together. After a few twists and turns and near trips from walking on your tip toes, you make it out of inn.

You ignore the weird looks from the inn keeper as you leave. They don’t understand the length the boys would go through to spy and/or ruin this for you two intentionally or otherwise.

Time looks up to the window of one of the room you’ve rented before pushing you quickly out of its line of sight.

You follow him wordlessly and look back just in time to see Warrior lean up against the window. He’s not looking out, merely resting where the people below can see him but the thrill of not being caught shoots through you and you force yourself to act natural and look away from the inn entirely.

“What the plan, beloved?” You shoot a grin his way and skip to match his pace.

“I don’t have one. I wasn’t entirely sure we’d get this far.” Time admits and lets his child like glee show on his face. 

Your heart swells when you see it. It’s not often you get to see this side of him and you’re happy to indulge him in these moments when he has them.

“We could just walk around?” You pull yourself closer to him and lean against his side. “Sight see? Shopping?”

Time lets go of your hand to instead wrap his arm around your waist and pulls you even closer so that you’re flush against him. “I’m not sure... I just wanted to spend time with you.”

“Wine tasting?” You try again, pointing to the sign outside of a small hole in the wall shop.

Time actually stops in his tracks and glances at the shop in front of you. “A brilliant idea darling. Shall we go have a look?”

“We shall.” 

Together you walk into the shop despite the later hour and see couples with the similar idea and calmly sharing drinks with one another. Time breaks off from you as you wander further into the space. You glance around the sparely decorated room and glance at the various signs and bottles to see their designs. You pick up a bottle and swirl around the liquid inside, watching it rise and fall against the green colored glass.

Time comes back in seconds, glaring at one of the other persons without your knowledge when they try to make a move closer to you. 

“Here.” He takes a calmly breath and hands you a glass. It’s halfway filled with a warm colored amber liquid and it piques your interest instantly.

“Thank you.” You take it and take a sip. It’s as warm as it looks and strangely smells like strawberries.

Time finally looks at you again when the person leaves and takes a sip from his own glass. It’s more crimson than you’d imagine possible and you have to wonder how it would taste. “Can I try?”

“Hm?” Time looks at the glass and back to you, handing it to you with out much thought.

He tries to it with your own but you’re faster than he is. You lean into his space on your tip toes and place a bold kiss on his lips.

They’re soft and laced with the tangy wine from his previous sip.

“Yum.” You wink and take another sip from your own wine.

Time stands there stunned before he smirks and takes you hand with the glass away before leaning down to kiss you properly. He takes it slow and holds you there for a moment despite the fact that you’re in a public space.

He pulls back just as slowly and finishes with a final kiss to your forehead.

“Can’t do that with the boys around.” He mutters to himself.

“Nope.“ You giggle and go back to sipping your wine. “But I’m not complaining.”

Part 3

[spiltscribbles]

Prompt: Pro Athlete Sirius because that my and Remus' kink

~Notes: OMFG VICTOrIA!!!! I FUCKING SCREECHED!!!! lkadfjlaksdgjoiaejfalskdgjioeugisfkldshg Yes tis my kink as well!!! And then I saw this from Nonny and worlds collided and BOOM! I hope you like this my love<3<3 You incredibly talented sugarplum!!! TBH I want to write a thousand more things in this AU XD

.-

FROM THIS LIST  |  Send Me A Prompt!💜 | A REBLOG MEANS THE GALAXY!!💜

.-

When Remus was young— surrounded by the light breeze of the Welsh coast and the harmony of birds chirping in the distance— he would follow his mother to their small garden behind their cottage  at the cusp of twilight as his father cooked their supper, and he’d watch as she laid flat all sorts of newspapers written in French and Arabic and English, watch as she brought her red pen against the ink and marked the articles with underlines and shorthand he wouldn’t understand for years still.

He asked her once, when he was barely eight years old, why she bothered to keep up with so many different publications, why she read the same story penned by countless perspectives when all the facts stayed the same at the end of the day. And he remembers how she had let out a quick, shrill of a laugh, tossing back her golden head while sucking in a puff from the bubbling hookah she had set up besides her— a habit she acquired from her Algerian, refugee parents, and one that became synonymous to those late nights in Remus’s eyes.

“Facts can be wielded to someone’s personal vendettas, Remus John,” she had crooned in that adoring way of hers whenever she spoke to him— honey eyes that were the same color and shape to Remus’s own flashing alight and their matching smiles going crooked in her stunningly beautiful face. 

“Oh.” Remus had replied, still confused as all get out but was perfectly fine with just holding his small vigil, watching her beneath moonlight and the soft glow of their outdoors lamps, as he listened to the shuffling of papers while she commenced this odd quirk. 

It’s a decade and a half later—  as his editor for the Phoenix, a small, but bustling online editorial that plans on dethroning the likes of Politico and Vox in only a matter of years, scans his latest findings on the corrupt boosters linked to MP Avery from Leeds— when Remus thinks he suddenly understands what his mother, with her keen eyes and pixelated air, had meant by facts in how they can be colored differently simply by the words surrounding them. And he wonders if one day soon, one of his bylines will join her little stack of stories, if she’ll be proud of him even if she says as much even now, when he’s a lost twenty-something stumbling through life in the capitol and barely making it as is, between his actual job and the gig he has at the coffee shop nearest his dingy flat he shares with three other blokes.

“Mmm, this is good, Lupin,” Dorcas declares after what feels like an eon, dropping her long, dark legs from where they were lounging leisurely on her desk and scuffs out her cigarette in a pretty, glass ashtray. “Send it over to Flores to look into deeper, maybe it’ll corroborate the info she’s already gotten from her sources.”

Remus feels himself bristle, hopes that it doesn’t show, that his face stays passive as he contends, “I think I should at least help her write the expose, I’m the one who got this bombshell.”

“That’s not how it works, sweets,” Dorcas toots, tossing back her dark head of curls as she rises, perching on the corner of her desk delicately and looking down, straight into his gaze. “I know it’s frustrating, but you’re fresh blood. barely six months here, but Alice has been with us for years. This is her baby, and we’re just here to nurture it.”

“So I’ll have to wait another ten months, at least,  to get the same treatment?” He argues in an admittedly petulant way, making Dorcas laugh endearingly, and Remus is suddenly,  searingly reminded of his age, and how he’s the youngest staffer that this London based news outlet has on hand. 

“C’mon, love, it won’t be that long for someone as sharp as you, just be patient, and don’t try to pull a Zoe Barnes on us, yeah? You’re far too pretty to clean up on the rails of  the tube.” Dorcas tousles a hand into his dark tawny curls, and Remus holds back the roll to his eyes that he feels willing up inside of him as he stands fully.

“Thanks Cas.”

She smiles beatifically, and throws him a wink. “You’re joining Emmy for the report tomorrow on those United footballers and their fundraiser for the hospital, yeah?”

“Bright and early,” Remus replies, still feels a bit miffed that he was chosen to write up the charity function, considering he doesn’t know a lick about football and doesn’t really get on with anyone who does. But Caradoc— their typical sports reporter— is out sick with the flew, so it’s on him. “I’ll have it on your desk early enough so it’ll be published by tea time.”

“Good man,” Dorcas says in thanks, picking up her crowing cellphone before waving him off.

Remus isn’t all that surprised when he strides out of the office only to find Benjy Fenwick sitting against the opposite wall, knees pressed to his chest and quickly scrambling up when he catches sight of Remus. Sometimes it’s impossible to believe that the bespectacled man in front of him is one of the top editors for the Phoenix, that he’s a regular corespondent for places like the BBC or CNN— that his rebukes against the piss poor inquiries waged during PMQs have become more anticipated than the sessions themselves. Remus tends to forget all of that when he sees him like this, messy haired and wearing a graphic T-shirt with some marvel superhero embossed on the front. “Wotcher Remus.”

“Hiya Remus says, smiling softly and rocking back on his heels. “You wanted to talk to the sergeant then?”

“Huh? Oh, no, no. I didn’t want to talk to Dorcas, I just— Erm, I know you were showing her that stuff you got from that intern, Pettigrew, and i know you were chafed about not getting any opportunity here so—“ He trails off, scratching the back of his head and studying a point over Remus’s shoulder, and it’s all too endearing, and Remus is so beyond thankful he’s made such a good friend here.

“No cigar,” he says in answer to the unspoken question, shrugging noncommittally even if he feels like shit over it.

Benjy nods, face contrite in a way that tells Remus he never thought it would’ve went otherwise. “I’m sorry, that’s bollocks.”

“’S whatever,” Remus shrugs off the apology, begins walking down the hall and straightening his report to hand over to Alice. 

“Ah,, erm. We can get a drink, yeah? In commiseration,” Benjy offers, and Remus stilts only for a beat before continuing the twisting trail to where Alice is set up with the more senior members on staff. And he feels only sorta bad about wanting to refuse. He knows that if he says yes, it’ll mean something different to Benjy than it does him, that he’ll probably take it as Remus finally giving into his pestering and deciding to actually go out with him, even if he’s refuted the other four times he’s asked as much. Remus’s simply just too busy trying to get a footing in this city, and trying to figure out where he’s suppose to go from here, and what he’s suppose to do. And yes, Benjy is cute— a complete Seth Cohen archetype. And he’s sweet and smart and funny enough. But Remus is really not in the mood for doing the whole flowers and wine and candle lit dinners shtick, had gotten enough of that while still with his university boyfriend. And yeah, he’s only just turned 24, but he already feels too old and too jaded for that sort of puppy love— even if Benjy’s got a good decade and some change on him.

Probably sensing his hesitation, Benjy is quick to rectify the offer. “I’ll ask Mary, and Fabian too, and a few others. We can make a night of it, just some drinks on a Friday after work.”

Stalling by the last turn to Alice’s desk, Remus looks at him from over his shoulder, and sort of hates himself for being such a soft hearted fuck sometimes. “Yeah Benj, sounds nice. Just let me know on the group chat, yeah?”

Benjy grins, much more genuine than his awkward quirk of the lips from earlier. “Yeah, good call, I’ll let the others know pronto.”

“Aces,” Remus says, tosses him a obligatory thumbs-up before finding an expectant looking Alice who’s tapping her foot impatiently.

Yeah, today is so bloody shit.

.-

Surprisingly, the round of drinks turns to another and then a third and fourth and Remus is currently nursing his fifth mango margarita on Benjy’s tab, and he actually feels lighter than he has since taking the job at Phoenix, feels bright and bubbling and like absolutely nothing could be wrong as long as he’s got this drink in his grasp and he’s sitting with the handful of reporters and photographers from the office that don’t all have sticks up their asses. It’s fun, it’s good. So obviously it couldn’t have lasted.

Mary is currently cackling about her Uber driver from last night who asked her all sorts of well meaning, but incredibly dense questions about her hijab— a freshly poured glass of coke in one hand, while the other is tangled into her girlfriend Emmy’s. And From his left Remus can hear Fabian ribbing Frank on his crush on Alice, while Benjy scoots intermittently closer as they watch Kingsley and Marlene sparring over something to do with a Kardashian or TikTok trend or whatever the fuck else— The guy has resilience, Remus has to give Benjy that.

“Right, who’s buying next?” Marlene asks, abrasive as ever while scrolling through her phone, ostensively finding something to prove her point against the managing editor.

“Reckon it’s my turn,” Benjy crows, standing up smoothly and glancing down at Remus with a nervous sort of half grin.

“Just a water for me, ta. I need to sober up,” Remus tells him, feels proud that he didn’t even slur slightly. Benjy bobs his head understandingly, and Remus turns to ask Marlene about her latest tinder hookup which always is a good laugh, but then he catches on it. On the sound of the pub’s doors flinging open, followed by a raucous crowd of athletic looking guys probably only a bit older than he is, clambering indoors. 

They’re all so very sixth-form, broad grins and slapping each other’s shoulders with jeers, topped off with loud, bark like laughter that makes it obvious to Remus that these wankers think that they’re some sort of group of gods amongst men, roaming around like everyone should fall to their feet and offer everything they have. It makes Remus roll his eyes so far back that it feels like he might’ve sprained them. They just give off this exhausting aura that reminds him of a past boyfriend in tenth year who was on the footie team and who’s favorite activity was either making Remus feel lucky enough to go out with someone so popular, or dragging him around like some sort of bloody trophy.

To put it nicely, Remus sorta hates them on sight. So when he sees one of the tossers— regrettably the brightest of the lot who’s all pearly teeth, and glittering eyes and incredibly impressive shoulders that tape off to a narrow waste in an objectively infuriating matter— swivels up to the barkeep and jostles Benjy on his way, well Remus doesn’t hesitate to dart forwards to tell him off.

“Oi, watch where you’re going, yeah?”

Benjy and the bloke who looks like he might moonlight as a model for Calvin briefs for when he’s not lounging in a yacht off the Tuscany coast, both turn to him at the same time. Benjy looking abashed, and the aforementioned tosser preening like the cat who’s just caught a canary.

“Sorry, love. Didn’t see you there,” he says in a delightfully deep tenner, giving Remus an appreciative once over, and Remus absolutely despises how the action makes him feel both thrilled and irritated. “Trust and believe, I wouldn’t have looked away if I saw you.”

“Not me, arse.” Remus spits back, refuses to pay any credence to how his cheeks have begun to flush. “You bumped into my mate right there, the one with the tray of loggers.”

The tosser darts his almost molten gray eyes over to Benjy for a sparing second before he laser focusses back onto Remus, the most phony expression of contrition all over his face. “Sorry to your friend,” he says the descriptor like a joke that no one else is in on. “Let me buy you a drink in sorry for the one I made slim here spill.”

Remus is officially unimpressed, hopes that his flat tone gets it across. “You’re an arse.”

“You’re mouthy,” he retorts, looks like it’s something he greatly appreciates— delights over even. 

“Ah, ’s fine Remus, really. I’ll just bring these back and get us a new glass.”

“Listen to slim, Remus, he’s got the right idea.” The tosser hurriedly interjects, strutting close enough to him that he makes it so Remus has to tip his head back just slightly so not to drop his gaze. “I’m Black, Sirius Black, just to get the pleasantries out of the way.” His leer tells Remus that the name should probably evoke some response of aw into Remus, but all it does is make him sound so egregiously pretentious that Remus wants to smack his own bloody head against a dry wall and stay in the hole until this ruddy Sirius bloke leaves him the hell alone.

“Good for you,” he says instead of all of that, and spots Sirius’s friends from behind Sirius chuckling and elbowing one another. Evidently this is a line the tosser uses frequently, and Remus is pleased that he might be one of the first who aren’t at all impressed by the grandiose way he introduced himself.

“Hah, you know I’m use to the pretty ones playing hard to get, but I’m really feeling here that you’re not exactly liking my company, love.”

Remus sucks in a frustrated breath through his nose, shouldering past Sirius and taking the tray of drinks from Benjy before storming back to their table where the others have begun openly gawping at the scene— Marlene outright squawking with Fabian just as Remus takes his seat.

“Don’t,” Remus warns them all as he silently says fuck off to the water and instead gargles down one of the loggers. And if he has to steadfastly not turn around for the rest of the night towards where he can feel Sirius’s gaze burning into his back— well then so be it.

.-

The next morning, Remus has to puke twice into the toilet, and gulps down three aspirins just to stave off his bloody hangover from the night before where he decided that getting properly sloshed would prove as a good technique to not end up making out with Sirius in some dark corner— or regrettably the backseat of his car. And if he does still remember flashes of ranting to him about how insufferable preppy, rich boys actually are while Sirius gazed at him endeared— well Remus just decides to purge it out along with the stomach acid. It’s not like he’ll ever see the douche again.

.-

He meets Arthur— one of the accountants who also helps out by taking photos for more low key news stories— outside the hospital where the conference will be taking place with the Manchester United team. There was a scrimmage that they all played with some of the kids in the cancer ward that occurred at around eight in the ruddy morning, but thankfully Remus didn’t have to show up until an hour later when the team presented their big shiny check, to the big, shiny hospital. 

However, Arthur has been here for hours, so he’s beyond chirpy and looks like he’s downed three cups of espresso as he chatters on about his son Percy starting secondary school, and his eldest, Bill, getting an award for his reading prowess, and all the strange craving his wife has been having throughout her pregnancy with the twins they’re expecting any week now. And Remus loves Arthur, he does— one of the sweetest folks he’s ever met— but God, his head is still thrumming from those misguided tequila shots and he really just wants to get his three quotes, and write up the story so he can find refuge back in his sheets.

While Arthur has moved to talking about his wife, Molly’s, plans to open up a daycare in their refurnished garage, Remus scans his eyes over the familiar face of reporters from other outlets who look just as bored as him, and then to the stage where a woman in a sharply pressed suit is ushering for the group of football stars to join her, so that the conference can finally fucking begin. 

And Remus thinks that their faces are sorta familiar, probably from all the publicity they get on the telly— but then he freezes as he stops at one of them with dark brown skin, and thick rimmed spectacles— and he suddenly can hear him chatting about his redheaded girlfriend and drunkenly declaring that she’ll be the mother of his children some day soon. So he completely expects it when his stomach drops as he moves his glance just a bit to the right, being struck by pearly teeth, and glittering eyes and incredibly impressive shoulders that tape off to a narrow waste, made all the more infuriating by the tight kit he’s got on and the blazing number twelve splayed against his chest.

And fuck.

Remus runs through about a dozen scenarios in which he can make a discrete, or not so discrete exit before he notices him, but in tandem to his spiraling thoughts, the wanker actually looks forwards, and like a creepy metal detector, his quick silver gaze pinpoints onto Remus.

They stare at one another for a beat before his smirk goes wolfish, and he runs a hand through his artfully tousled hair in a way that practically screams, fancy meeting you here. And holy fuck he looks so mouth watteringly attractive with that faint film of sweat running down his neck, and how his smile pulls slightly more to the left, and how he’s looking at Remus like he’s his birthday and Christmas presents all rolled into one.

Remus suddenly hates everything— but most of all hates Sirius, and how bloody fit he is.

“Oh, you’re a fan then?” 

Starting, Remus shifts around slightly so that he’s facing Arthur completely. “Pardon?”

“Sirius Black I mean, you’re a fan?” Arthur asks in that abrasively congenial and intensely scrutinizing way that he treats everything. “I mean he’s a great player, but I know you don’t really watch. So I bet it’s all that charity work he does, yeah?”

“Charity work?” Remus echos, feeling like a floundering fish.

“Truly some amazing stuff.” Arthur pontificates, rubbing a hand against his jaw as he tips his head back. “I mean obviously I’m partial to the fundraising for Reporters Without Borders, but of course the things he does with the more impoverished kids is great. And I know Molly likes his very outspoken posts about being anti war and his annual live streams to earn money for refugees in those war torn nations, like the last one he did for Syria?”

“Oh—“ Remus says, feeling like his head is being overrun by a fountain of new information.

“Yes well, you don’t usually see athletes get into the thick of it with political issues, but I reckon he never really minded. I mean the fact he’s the first football star from United to have come out without any fanfare really proved that. Oh, I think they’re starting, I should probably get some photos before Dorcas gives me a tongue lashing.”

And as quick as the flash of his camera’s lends, Arthur is using his considerable height to get to a more advantageous spot towards the front, and leaves Remus in the dust, as if he hasn’t just obliterated his every assumption of Sirius from after that initial meeting.

And unbidden, the words his mother had told him so many years ago, about facts and how they can color a situation just simply based off the person who’s speaking them— flood to the forefront of his mind.

“Fucking hell,” Remus mutters lowly, gets jostled by Greengrass, a hawkish reporter from a rivaling publication who always has on the most wickedly sharp acrylic nails, and perfectly quaffed curls— as she waves around her certification to speak her inquiry.

“My question is for Potter,” she announces when the woman leading the event, McGonagall, points her way. “And I was wondering how early you boys have to rise for training during the season? And how intense the sessions are that Coach Hooch puts you guys through?”

Potter, the one with the redheaded girlfriend that Remus heard so much about last night between his ranting at Sirius, parts his lips, but it’s not his voice that ends up reverberating through the outdoors space. Instead, it’s Sirius, who’s shouldering him with a goading air, obviously expecting his comment to have only ended up in Potter’s ear and not caught by the mike.

“I wonder if Lupin will let me wake up with’m so he can let me get some real training done before practices, eh?”

And just as soon as his words pitter off, the entire crowd drops to a hush— quiet enough so that they could probably hear it if a pen dropped. 

Sirius’s handsome face— strong jawline, and broad but sharp cheekbones, and a long, narrow nose— goes suddenly ashen, and he flashes over to Remus as if he’s terrified that he’ll bite his face off.

God, what an idiot.

With a long suffering sigh, Remus plucks out the microphone from a slack faced Greengrass’s hand. “We can discuss the regimen afterwards, Black. Just meet me by the front doors and let your mate answer the bloody question.”

Everyone around them falls into laughter that’s caught between uncomfortable chuckles and amazingly amused cackling, but the only person Remus is paying any mind is Sirius, and how he seems to have gone absolutely incandescent, nodding electrically before miming the zip of his lips and gesturing for Potter to carry on.

Jesus help him, Remus has no idea what he’s gotten himself into.

.-

~My Wolfstar FIC Masterlist

~Buy Me A Coffee 

[smallrainclouds]

And part b to part six.

Warning:.some spicness, like kissing and stuff.

🌙💤💤🌙

*Reader's pov*

You were bone tired but pleased with your process. You pushed your hair out your face. Lately you had taken to wearing it down, it was nice not to have to fuss with fixing a bun or the headache that came with it sometimes

You hummed a song as you began collecting the next round of scrolls. You

You heard the door open and your eyes widened, "Hypnos! Here for a second time?"

You waved him in with a smile. He gives a smile in return, "Yeah, I got done early so I decided to stop by to check in."

You noticed there was a tension in his body that you haven't seen before but you decided to hold your tongue for now.

"It's going well. Come on, I got the backroom nearly done. I'll give you a tour."

You motioned to Hypnos to follow you, eager to show off your work. You didn't notice how his eyes stayed on you the whole time.

"So I got the history area set up, and I got it broken down by the time period followed by the area…" you chatted as Hypnos floated behind you. He was mostly quiet except for a quick question here or there.

"And that is it for now." You said, fingers brushing across the wooden shelves.

You looked at Hypnos, candle light was always good to Hypnos. It has taken some time to admit to yourself that You did like the strange handsome look of your husband. Now it was something you couldn't stop thinking about.

"Impressive. Do you enjoy doing this?" He asked.

You tilted your head, not expecting that question. "I do. I like the stories and even the non fiction can help give context to what a story is about."

Hypnos smiled, and damn it, you could feel a blush forming.

"Is this what you would do if you had a choice?"

"I…" You bit your lips, not quite sure what to say. "Maybe. I think I would, but I could be happy doing something else."

"Are you unhappy with your work?" You tried to keep your tone casual. It was already unusual for Hypnos to visit twice in one day and ask questions like these. It was silly but you didn't want to scare him off. Even if he was your husband, he was more like an acquaintance right now.

"That would be putting it mildly." Hypnos shrugged. "Not exactly the type of guy you would want doing paperwork, but that's all I do."

"Why do it then?" You frowned, "I mean being the god of sleep would have to be a full time job on its own."

Hypnos didn't say anything for a few moments, and you feared you may have pushed too much.

"What exactly did your family tell you? About the war, I mean?" Hypnos asked, his voice soft.

You crossed your arms and shifted on your feet. This wasn't what you expected. You still didn't like to think about it. That war had cost so much more problems than it fixed.

"My mother told me some things but not what you did. She did say you were the only reason she didn't lose a war. Which is huge if you know what my mother is like." You locked eyes with Hypnos. You could see the guilt on his face, another thing that surprised you tonight.

"Well, Aphrodite helped some. Even if she didn't realize it." Hypnos matched your gaze.

He grinned a little, and held up two fingers."I…put Zeus to sleep. Twice. I don't think he found out the second time, I was much more careful the second time around."

You gasped at him, "How in the world did you even get close enough to do that?"

This time Hypnos laughed and you tried to ignore the warmth in your body.

"I was a determined and a very stupid child back then. I thought I needed to prove I was worthy of being called a god." Hypnos looked amused at the thought of his younger self. "I saw Zeus had a hard time saying no to a pretty face and gave your mother the idea to trick Zeus by using his own ego against him."

You shook your head with a laugh, "No wonder my mother didn't say much, she probably was mad she didn't think of it first."

"After that, my mother wasn't exactly pleased that I was getting involved with the Olympians so much. She talked Hades into keeping me here until I grew up some. So now I'm here, listing off the dead. I think Mom was trying to show me the cost of that war."

"Oh, it's been so long since that war though. Surely she must have forgiven you by now." You had been a child yourself, just on the cusp of becoming a woman. Those hazy days of youth seem so long ago.

"I suspect if it wasn't for the current war right now, I would probably be out of the house."

A moment of silence then Hypnos floated closer, "Actually, could I confess something? You're probably not going to like me much afterwards though. But I need to tell you."

"Hypnos, I doubt that very much." You watched him stop his floating and stand. You noticed that he could block you from the door, but you felt comfortable enough with Hypnos. And you were sure he wouldn't do anything. Honestly, you weren't sure if you would say no if he did try something.

His face turned serious, "I really hope so."

You frowned at him, "Hypnos, just tell me. I don't like these kinds of games." You couldn't help the nervousness in your voice. If this was some joke…

"I helped your mother for a reason. I… I did it for you." Hypnos said quietly.

You stared, not quite understanding. "But we never even met…"

"No, we have once,Y/N. I don't think you noticed me the other times." Hypnos respond desperately.

You shook your head and took a step backwards, the shelves pressed against your back.

Hypnos grabbed your shoulders, firm but not bruising. He got close enough that you could feel his body heat and you looked away from him. You hated how your heart flip flopped between wanting to push him away and pulling him closer.

"This isn't funny, Hypnos." You snapped at him.

"No, it's not." Hypnos grabbed your chin. "Hey, Y/N look at me. Hey."

You gave in the gentle pressure and allowed Hypnos to pull your face up. You realized you were trembling as you met his light golden eyes.

"You really don't remember me, do you?" He whispered. You shook your head, unable to speak.

"I remember. Each time I saw you. The first time, you didn't see me I think. It was a party, you were dancing with one of your sisters. I was there because I wanted to see what the big deal was about the Olympians."

His thumb brushed your face, a small smile on his. "The second time was when I first tricked Zeus, you were in the hallways and I had to hide so no one would see me. I almost got caught anyway since I couldn't take my eyes away from you."

You couldn't look away, you almost felt like you were in a trance, only able to listen to Hypnos' voice. "The third time… I was in your mother's living room, and I could see you in the garden. I sneaked off so I could get a closer look, and that when I found you trying to listen in. You looked like a painting to me, this beautiful little goddess hidden among flowers. I had to send you off before I could even talk to you."

Your eyes widen, an old memory rushing back.

"The red poppies." You murmured and Hypnos' face lit up.

"She tried to offer me anything. Wealth, boons or strength, anything a young god could want. But… I wanted you. My mother tried to stop it, to save you from my foolishness, but Hera had already swore to the river Styx."

"Hypnos- I - this is too much." You shook your head. You placed your hands on his chest, but you were trembling too much to push him away. Your hand just curled into his tunic, shaking in a mix of anger and stock. And hurt, you thought maybe you could trust him.

"How- I can't even talk to you. My sisters-" you pulled your face away from him. Your voice cracked, "my sisters. My home."

Hypnos used both hands to hold your face as he bent down to look at you. "I know. I shouldn't have kept it from you. I would have thought your family would have told you."

You took a deep breath, "I-i thought you were a friend. I thought you were in the same boat as me. I thought maybe you were helpful in a battle or something and my mother saw a chance for some dumb political move and that Nyx was in on it."

You glared up at him, "I didn't know you traded for me, like -like I was some dumb cattle!" You stepped away from the side, back facing Hypnos; trying to get air into your lungs. You hated the fact the only reason you were able to get away was because Hypnos allowed you.

"First of all, you will not talk about yourself like that." Hypnos' voice went hard but you just scoffed at him, too upset at him.

He got close to you again, tone a little softer "And second, it wasn't like that. I honestly didn't think she would offer her own daughter up. I-"

You whirled around to face him, finger in his face. "You didn't have to take her up on it though!"

He grabbed your wrist and pulled you to him. His face is a mixture of anger and desperation. He wrapped his arm around your waist and held you flushed against him. You raised your hand to his chest to push off but the fire in his eyes stopped you.

"I knew I would never get another chance to have you, Y/N. By blood and darkness,it was my only chance and I took it! I know what the almighty Olympians really think of us. I know I would never get to see you again if I didn't take up on her offer."

Hypnos lean down, almost close enough to kiss. "I would have done anything for you. I still would."

You tighten your hand on his chest, unable to move away, not wanting to move away. "You barely know me, Hypnos. Why? Why me?"

"Because I do know you, in the way that matters. I see how hard you try to please your family, how you get lost in the words of a story."

You shook your head, unable to deal with emotions that were building up in you. But Hypnos just kept talking.

"I know you have a soft spot for everybody, even the outcasts, how smart you are and how you always try to make sure to help anyone who needs it."

"I- Hypnos." You whispered.

He let go of your wrist to wrap his other arm around you. "Y/N, I don't know everything, not yet. But I would like to. Will you let me?" He asked softly, desperately.

You couldn't speak if you wanted to. You cupped his face and pulled his lips to yours in a chaste kiss.

Hypnos tighten his hold on you. Gently, he pressed a little more into the kiss. You gasped against his lips and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and just tried to hold on.

You didn't know how long or short the kiss went on when both you and Hypnos both took a breath. He pressed his forehead against yours, his golden eyes on your eyes.

"I'm still mad at you." You murmured, fingers caressing his cheek. He smiled, "If this is how good you are when mad, I can't wait to kiss you when you're happy."

"Oh, for goodness sake." You rolled your eyes, not able to hide your smile. Hypnos pressed a kiss against your cheek and then another one, slowly working his way to your neck.

You tugged him back up to face you before he could continue because if you didn't, you were to make some very foolish decisions.

"Can I kiss you again?" Hypnos asked, his hand cupped the back of your head and you nodded as you pulled him down for another one.

Suddenly the doors bang open, "Hey Y/N! I got past- oh." Zagreus' voice halted. You hid your face in Hypnos' chest, wishing for a pit to open up and swallow you whole.

"Zagreus, buddy. Ever heard of knocking?" Hypnos snarled, "Let me help, it when you use your head and-"

"You know what, I will come back later. Much later." Zagreus slammed the door shut.

Then opened it again.

"Congratulations you two!"

And slammed close again.

"I'm going to kill him." Hypnos murmured into your hair.

"Be nice, he is your best friend." You murmured into his chest.

"But he gotten used to dying." Hypnos brushed a kiss against your head. You sighed and looked up at him, "I said no, Hypnos. You said anything for me."

"I did." Hydnos agreed easily. He dipped his head down to met you in another kiss.

"Anything for you, Y/N."

[chainhead]

we're gonna live forever

ethan is finding it harder to cope. leon tries his best to help.

ethan/leon. nsft. a lot of whump and hurt/comfort in this one. an "if leon was there to haul ethan out of the village while chris took rose and they all escaped together" sort of deal. leon got assigned to monitor the winters for a few months, and ethan's struggling with himself.

Up until two hours ago, Ethan hadn't bathed for close to a week. He's tired, and sore, and his body aches with the pain of a thousand bruises that will never heal, and right now, he should be taking a nap. A dirt nap. He should be dead.

But instead, he's leaning over the blankets that are pooled in his lap, and he's kissing Leon fucking Kennedy, square on the lips.

He shouldn't be. Dead people don't kiss the living. Yet he's here… doing just that.

And Leon's been real timid about all this, but when he finally got to press his lips to Ethan's, the blonde figures he should've known that for secret undercover super spy agents like Leon Kennedy, shy isn't a word in their lexicon. For all his hesitancy, a little lip action quickly spiraled into something else entirely, and… and Ethan doesn't hate it.

He gasps when something warm and wet swipes past his lip and he trembles when it slides between his teeth; prodding at his gums and the roof of his mouth and Jesus, is he really getting this worked up over a kiss? Electricity is buzzing in his veins and he can't even remember what Leon wanted to ask, only the part where the older man sat on his bed with a bowl of (forgotten, now) soup and asked if he was okay.

The answer was no. It's not– it's never been okay. Fucking nothing is okay.

And Ethan thought maybe the nightmares would end—the screaming, tearing, ripping at his blankets in a frenzy to get up and desperately check on his daughter—but they haven't. They won't.

And thus, whether by his own design or perhaps pulled on by the strings of fate, Leon came into his room to shake him awake and offer a compassionate ear, just like he always did. And for once, in the three months Ethan’s been occupying Leon's guest bedroom and making good use of his Hulu subscription, he let himself open up.

Maybe it wasn't a smart idea. The last thing Ethan needs right now is more confusion and uncertainty, but the way Leon introduces him to this, it doesn't feel transparent.

The hands on his jaw are real. The taste of peppermint toothpaste is real. The slow, steady breaths that Leon takes in between kisses helps Ethan steady his own, and if Leon wasn't confident in his ability, then surely he wouldn't engage like this with someone he's assigned to monitor and protect, right?

Warm palms slip down Ethan's neck. They trail past his collarbone until they're below his ribcage, and they settle on his hips, firm and steady and real. Ethan startles at the touch, but Leon is quick to hush him, pulling away to whisper soft utterances of it's okay, you're okay, you're safe. 

It helps… in it's own strange, unprecedented way.

The blonde's chest heaves as he quietly fights to regain his composure, and Leon takes the brief moment of respite to let go of one hip so he can reach for Ethan's wrist and bring it closer to his face.

It takes Ethan a second to register which hand Leon grabbed. The small stab of discomfort tells him it's his bum hand before he can actually see it, and a part of Ethan reels in alarm, his eyes widening like saucers.

"Wait," he pants," Leon, that's—"

"I told you I'd take care of you, didn't I?" The agent asks gently, still cradling Ethan's hand close.

Ethan pauses for a moment, his brows furrowing. "I..."

"And that no matter what happened, I'd never judge you. I wouldn't think of you any differently. I wouldn't do anything intentionally to hurt you…" Leon glances up, blue eyes uncharacteristically soft. "This is just another part of you I'll accept without question. I don't care how it looks, or how you got it. It's a reminder of your strength. It makes you, you." When Ethan doesn't protest, Leon continues, "So let me."

The blonde inhales quietly.

"Please?" Leon pushes.

"... Okay."

What is most unexpected is how Leon smiles in triumph, but not in an overbearing, boyish kind of way. It's just a little quirk of the lips that indicates his approval, right before he presses them to the valley of Ethan's missing fingers in a fleeting, butterfly kiss.

The blonde's skin erupts in a raze of gooseflesh. He flusters, unsure of what to say, but Leon's quick to smooth things over.

"Every part of you is animated, Winters. You're human." Another kiss, this time above the knuckles. "You're breathing, eating, feeling."

Ethan swallows the lump that's quickly reforming in his throat. "I–It's like a dream. Everything tells me this isn't real."

"What can I do to help?" Leon mumbles against the back of his hand.

Ethan lets out a shaky breath. "I…" He licks his lips, tasting the trace of mint that still lingers.

Leon watches him patiently. Ethan feels his heartbeat thundering in his chest when he finally gathers the courage to ask, in an unsteady voice, "Can you make me feel alive again?"

*

The first finger is real. So is the second.

Ethan squirms on the sheets as Leon slowly works him open, making sure to use extra lubricant so the process is as painless as possible. Each plunge is precise (who could expect less from a government-trained Jedi?) and occasionally Leon brushes against something absolutely fucking wonderful, pulling embarrassing noises from the blonde's throat and forcing his cock to throb heavily against his stomach.

Dead people can't feel pleasure. Dead people can't moan, or beg for another finger. Not like Ethan, who's doing it so tentatively that he fears Leon can't hear him.

But he does. And he unfurls a third digit the first two, stretching Ethan open wider, forcing him to groan brokenly through his teeth.

"A little tight," Leon observes. When Ethan moves to cover his face with his arm, Leon uses his free hand to push it away. "You okay?"

"Th–the things you say…" Ethan mutters, keeping his gaze trained on the nightstand. From the corner of his eye, he can see Leon grin.

"I'm sorry. Should I stop?"

Ethan doesn't say anything.

The burn and stretch ground him, keeping him focused on the present. Leon never gives him a moment to get lost in his head, and that's something he appreciates immensely. Words of encouragement fill the empty space as well as the lewd squelch of Leon's fingers, until all too soon, they're being slid out without warning.

Ethan clenches around nothing. "Leon?"

"Shh." Leon leans over him, sitting himself between Ethan's thighs. His body is hot where it presses against him, and all the air gushes out of Ethan's lungs. "Nice and easy. If it hurts, you tell me. Okay?"

Ethan nods feverishly. He bites down on his tongue when he feels Leon line himself up, and draws taut like a bowstring when the first breach spread him wide, wider than he'd ever been before.

He wasn't going to tell Leon anything hurt to begin with, but the hiss he lets out is unintentional. It still makes the older man freeze, and Ethan takes note of the callused thumb rubbing soothing circles against his cheekbone.

"I'm fine," Ethan groans, sounding very much the opposite. "Just keep going."

Leon doesn't protest. He kisses Ethan's shoulder and carefully eases the rest of his length in, exhaling quietly once his groin presses flush to the skin of Ethan's ass. Once he's there he keeps still, patiently waiting for Ethan to adjust.

The feeling is less pain, more ache. There is an undercurrent of something similar to how a rug burn might feel, and although somewhat unpleasant, it makes Ethan vividly aware of the fact that, if he were dead, he wouldn't be able to feel anything at all. He wouldn't need to grit his teeth, or fist the sheets, or wait until his muscles stopped fluttering wildly around something foreign inside of him. This isn't how it feels to die. 

He's warm. Not as warm as Leon, nor the cock buried snug in his walls, but still warm enough to not need long sleeves.

Eventually, the pain begins to ebb and fade. Leon murmurs softly against his shoulder, asking if he's okay to move, and Ethan nods again.

They set a slow pace. Leon is meticulous in how much force he puts behind each thrust, ever aware of Ethan's comfort. He moves his face up until their lips catch and brush against the other's, not quite a kiss, yet still intimate and sweet. Leon uses one hand to support his weight while he maps out Ethan's body with the other; and Ethan shivers, taking note of the way fire erupts in the wake of Leon's fingertips.

About two minutes in, things begin blurring together. Ethan rocks back to match Leon's rhythm, and that's all it takes for Leon to loosen the tension in the wires—his hips undulating with enough strength behind them to elicit small, audible slaps of skin in skin on skin.

Ethan snakes a hand down to touch himself, only to get his knuckles smacked before he can get a single stroke in. Leon replaces the hand with his own, and the way he jerks him is so much faster than he'd initially been wanting.

The blonde writhes, his clammy skin clinging to the sheer bed sheets. Tears prickle at the corners of his eyes and he can feel it, he can feel the impending orgasm that surging up from his guts and teetering just on the cusp—

Above him Leon moans quietly, burying his nose in Ethan's neck. His thrusts are turning into quick, hard snaps, and his hold on Ethan's cock shifts; the pad of his thumb swiping firm over the leaking tip. One, two, three more times. The fourth has Ethan shaking, his thighs trembling around Leon's frame. And the fifth…

Paired with one last, deep thrust, Ethan comes with a wordless shout, his back arching up high off of the mattress. Sticky ropes of pearlescent liquid coat his stomach, his chest, and the tops of Leon's knuckles, and Ethan trembles through it all, feeling as though he's having an out of body fucking experience.

And when he finally comes around, it's to the sound of Leon whispering his name in his ear, soiled fingers digging hard into his hip. Wet warmth fills him, and it's only in the few seconds afterwards that Ethan realizes he never told Leon he could finish inside.

A small part of him hoped he would, so he doesn't comment on it.

"Jesus," Leon sighs after a moment, pushing himself up a little higher on his elbow. Ethan's impressed that, despite all of that, Leon doesn't just collapse on top of him… or even come close to it.

Instead, he's distracting Ethan with a slow, post-coital kiss while he carefully unsheathes himself, and then he's rolling over, taking all of his body heat with him.

Ethan blinks sluggishly, turning on his side to face him.

Silence blankets over them comfortably. Ethan's thoughts are running wild but his chest is heaving for breath, his fingertips are sizzling with leftover energy and he feels so free. The same way he felt before he died—before he even knew the Bakers' existed, or the mutant mind-controlling mold that took him asunder.

Another tear falls. Ethan moves his hand up to wipe it, but Leon's already there, catching it with his thumb. Ethan sniffs, meeting his gaze.

"What's going to happen to us?" He asks thickly.

Leon tilts his head. "What do you mean?"

"Us… you and I. Our… our relationship." Ethan hiccups on his words. "Our friendship."

A brief pause. And then, softly: "I thought I was helping you feel alive?"

The inflection of Leon's tone makes Ethan pause in confusion, his brows pinched. He desperately searches Leon's face but doesn't find the context he's looking for, so he says, "Y–you were."

"And did I?"

Ethan stills. He suddenly becomes more aware of himself, of the beat of his heart and the air in his lungs. The amalgamation of excitement and fear and longing that coincide in his stomach.

The realness of it. The realness of everything.

Of this. 

Himself. 

Leon.

Ethan shudders out a shaky breath. "I don't know," he whispers honestly. "I don't know."

The bed shifts and creaks beneath Leon's weight, and Ethan isn't aware of the arms wrapped around him or the warm chest pressed against his nose until it's too late; and for once, he doesn't feel like shying away from the touch. It feels grounding. Like a rock to help weather the storm… a solid constant Ethan can trust.

Slowly, Ethan embraces Leon back.

"I want you to know. I want to be there when you do know," Leon tells him.

He sobs, and a large, gentle hand comes up to comb through his hair.

"I'll do whatever it takes, Winters. Even if it takes forever, I'll show you how real you are to me."