#not totally sure if it's intense enough to warrant that or anything but to be safe

[cyborg-and-a-bowl-of-ramen]

Got any cool tricks or anything?

Ariine: Illusion PSI! Pretty sick, right? --It's pretty much just a visual thing, but I can make myself look basically however I want!

[cinnamonest]

Hiiiiii !! I hope you're doing okay!

Not quite your usual ask as this will concern Genshin women (I hope that's alright), but I've been thinking about your Male Majority AU A LOT. It became a big fav of mine and I'd really like to write some OS (or even a multi-chap fic) about it sometimes.

I was wondering, what do you think the playable girls are/have become in this AU ? I imagine most of them end up the same fate as Reader, but what about those originally in high power such as Jean, Ningguang, Ganyu, Kokomi, etc,,.

Please know your MMAU and Hybrids posts are some of my favourites, though all of your writings are great. Have a nice day!!

AHHHH thank you <3333 I'm so glad bc I love it to and omg I loved making this so much. Words cannot express how much I love the girls and making fictional girls I love suffer is my lifeblood so this was a blessing to receive ( ´ ω ` ) I would love to write another one of these soon too, I didn't get around to Ningguang  this time but I'd like to eventually (and also Lisa love of my life, and Shenhe too) but I did get several gorls here.

In case that isn't clear enough for everyone: this is bad things happening to the girl cast. Past experience tells me a lot of people are much more sensitive to this sort of thing as opposed to reader-inserts (which is totally fine, I understand why) but basically, if you do not like the thought of female characters going through similar things I write reader-inserts going through, you will want to skip this.

I know it can be character-specific for some people's discomfort, so, while most of the girls are mentioned at least a little, these are the ones with more detailed entries: (Amber, Noelle, Xinyan, Fischl, Lumine, Mona, Ganyu, Kokomi, Sara, Beidou)

Warnings: the usual for the AU (misogyny, fairly dark overall, prostitution, sex slavery etc), mentions of classism, very brief mention of arranged marriages between distant relatives but nothing enough to warrant the actual incest tag, also intense pain/blood mention on Ganyu's (also forgive me but I was obligated to reference the horn-snapping thing lmao)

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First some more general summary/worldbuilding:

The obvious glaring issue to be addressed here, is what happens regarding visions. It's rare to see a girl get one (they usually have the ambition and willpower broken out of them pretty early on), but sometimes they will get them when they're very young, before, you know, they have their spirits totally crushed by the brutal realities of the world and all that.

It's seen as sort of a red flag, a warning sign that the individual is going to be more rebellious and independently-minded than most. That being said, it can be put to good use. Dendro and hydro in particular have a lot of domestic uses. It's also something that could be a potential selling point, that often ends up getting them aligned with specific occupations. If you're a farmer, for example, having a girl that can quite literally make plants grow or water them in a few seconds' time is quite useful, so they'll often seek them out. If you're a common fisherman, you could really benefit from being able to electrocute water, and then just have to wait for all the dead fish to come floating to the surface and net them up. Vision-havers often make for good partners with such individuals in this way, and the girls are often very willing to comply and be partners, since it means getting to live with a singular person or a small handful of people, a much easier life than prostitution or the like.

Pyro, geo, and cryo, however, are seen as a lot more problematic, due to their high damage potential and relative lack of use for anything besides combative purposes. Sure, maybe the first can light the occasional fire at night, the other two can maybe make a path to cross a river or something, but outside of a handful of specific scenarios, they're not as immediately useful, and a lot more dangerous to whoever they decide to blast a burst of fire or ice or a huge chunk of rock at.

Firstly, they don't get weapons, which significantly limits the potential to cause harm. Their range is far smaller, and the output of energy far less. Still, they can harm those who come close, so more action is often necessary. Total destruction has unknown effects, and removing it far from their person leads to a sort of mental shutdown based on experimentation, so the best solution is to merely keep it close, but not in their possession. Usually it's just handed over to whoever happens to be the legal guardian or owner, who keeps it on their person, and gives it over when it can be useful. Some, of course, come to trust their property enough that they just let them have it at all times, but that's a rarer occurrence.

It's also seen as, or at least presented as, a benevolent thing. Oh, you can't have that. You're going to accidentally hurt yourself with it. Give it to me and I'll take good care of it. Such is one of many excuses given to them when they're first found holding one. Younger girls tend to obey out of naivete. Older ones who are a bit smarter might not fall for that, though, in which case, more forceful and less nice measures are needed to extract the thing.

Any girl can get a vision, though, and it's not really that big of a role in where you end up, aside from positively increasing the chances of not being locked into a brothel lifestyle. Instead, unfortunately, the class you're born into is more or less the primary determinant of your fate.

Yes, those born into elite families do have a significant advantage, as their families essentially bribe the authorities to look the other way for a lot of matters, or are often government/military officials themselves and get to keep their offspring safe as a perk of their power. Keqing, Eula, and Ayaka would probably have the best situations out of anyone. Keqing wouldn't exactly have any real power or significance, and likewise Eula wouldn't be allowed to be a knight, but they'd be safe, which is what really matters.

Elite, wealthy noble families usually just keep girls inside at all times, they essentially never leave the confines of their estates, and usually are well-guarded at all times. The way this is done often varies -- in Liyue and Inazuma they have sprouted the tradition of eunuchs, and it's common for families to have a few accompanying the girls at all times. Ayaka and Keqing would basically be confined to their families' respective estate grounds, and any desire to get up and go anywhere inherently necessitates being accompanied by two or three of said armed eunuchs, likely whose sole job is caring for them. Likewise, they can't get anything for themselves, so it's common for these guards to also function as servants, fetching even the most basic of things because it's preferable to having the girl get up or anything.

For Mondstadt, it's really just more common that as soon as the girl is old enough, she's married off to a distant relative, whom she stays by the side of at virtually all times. Any resentment of your family's ways or personal dislike for them doesn't matter -- a girl who has spite towards her family will be reprimanded and, if necessary, punished to the point where there is essentially no choice but to abide by the enforced mannerisms. Smile, stay by their side, act loving and subservient.

Which would be difficult for someone like Eula, but it's not as if there's any alternative. She's raised from early on to be this way, and her family consistently tries to reshape her more independent attitude. Even then, there's an easy fact to guilt her with: if her family wasn't caring for her, what would happen to her then? If you hate him so much, how would you like to be thrown out into the streets instead? Aren't you grateful we would never do that? So if one doesn't want that to happen, you should be very, very grateful that you have a loving family willing to arrange such a good match for you.

Some who are born to simply caring families also have somewhat of an advantage, even if they're not necessarily nobility or very wealthy types.

However, being in positions of power or authority, organizational/combative/local government-ordained occupations, or even highly respected occupations is... kind of unheard of. So anyone like Jean, Kokomi, Sara, and Yelan would be unable to fulfill the roles they otherwise had, at least in the leadership aspect. The very thought would be laughable. Likewise, you wouldn't see some girl being into the legal sphere like Yanfei, nor any sort of business operation like Hu Tao.

They still work in those areas, just have more of a backseat role. Jean still "works" for the knights -- got married to (read: bought by) a higher-rank, and now gets to perform little odd tasks as needed, gets to sit and listen during meetings and the like. Likewise, the Hu family funeral business was instead passed to the closest male descendent, not just the closest descendant. Hu Tao still gets to help out around the place -- they did pay for approval to marry her off to the guy after all. It's not that weird, they're quite distantly related, and very normal for the Liyue culture, much like the Mondstadt culture.

However, for some, being born middle-class highly increases your chances of being private property and not public property, but in a different way than just staying in the family. Unlike what you might initially think, black markets for human trafficking can actually be advantageous to the girls rather than the opposite, depending on the market.

See, the norm is that when one is born to lower or middle-class families, it's put into records so that once the girl is old enough (they're given an extra year or two of leeway if you ask for it at least) most regions have official agencies that are tasked with collecting them and taking them to be "officially" assigned to either be given to some high-rank government member, sold to someone, or, if none of those, just given to legal, taxed brothels. Since families strongly desire to avoid the last option, and yet, because they would have no control over the matter (even if she goes to a singular individual, they still have no say in who), they've developed a common underhanded strategy. Pay illegal traffickers to more or less take the girl before they're set to be collected, and pay exuberant amounts of money for her safety. In exchange, the standard is that these higher-status black markets essentially do background checks to ensure the girl is sold off to someone who isn't violent, abusive, or otherwise awful. Then they just tell authorities that she ran away, and that they can't do anything.

Similarly, under official standards, families not only have no control, but no knowledge -- most governments have decided it's more... conducive to social harmony that the families are cut off entirely, that they have no way of finding out what happened to the girl, where she is now, or ever communicating with her again. These paid black markets, thus, also establish a policy that in order to ensure the good treatment of the girl, the buyer has to allow her to have written communication with the family (if literate), or sometimes allowed visits. If the family reports that they haven't heard from her, the traffickers' role then is to essentially send the middle men whose job is to threaten and, if a repeated offense, beat the living daylights out of the uncooperative party. It works out for everyone involved.

Those who are common people, though, who can't afford to pay off illicit traders nor bribe officials into letting them keep them, are out of luck.

This is also where the bad kind of black markets come in, the cheaper, lower standards kind. Not that families pay them anything. But working families who can't afford guards often leave their wives, daughters, and so on inside, and especially the more naive sheltered ones will often times venture out, convinced that they'll be okay if they just stay close to home. Some very rural families believe they're safer because they're isolated, and may let their daughters or wives or sisters go roaming around their farm or pastures, telling them to just be careful and always stay close.

But that's not good enough, when you have people lurking and waiting for that kind of opportunity. There will always be some that prowl about, looking for the occasional girl that just went out on the porch to water the flowers or feed the animals, just for a split second, so it's no big deal... but a person can be grabbed and snatched up, gagged and tied within less than a minute, if you know what you're doing as they do. And you can have them sold off for a small profit by the end of the night, and it's not like the families can afford to hire investigative services (which are, here, insanely overpriced and only available to a select few deemed important enough to deserve them, otherwise everyone would constantly be utilizing them, and often primarily employed by the government as runaway hunters more than anything).

But onto individual girls and their misfortunes...

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There are some girls used in various performing arts, and this can be a pathway out of a much worse alternative life for some. If you have a skill or talent, honing it to perfection is highly advised, as it's one way to go from potentially living a large majority of your life as a breeding machine or onahole and instead having some sense of individuality and time to yourself.

Generally, there is a prevailing cultural mentality that you have to be put to some sort of "use" every waking second. For this reason, communal girls generally don't get a whole lot of free time -- you have to spend every moment doing something, even if it's not necessarily actively having sex. Still have to be talking and entertaining the company of some boy, being a pretty eyecandy piece at some sort of meeting, and so on.

But if you have some extra skill that provides some sort of value (that is, a performative skill of some kind, as any academic or particularly intellectual talents will be smothered like an unwanted spark instead), you can, albeit still controlled by some sort of manager of some kind, have a lot more room to breathe and exist on your own. You get some semblance of time to yourself because practice is important and all that. It's more like idol culture -- the girls are revered by masses and elevated to goddess status, worshipped and adored... and kept far away from their fans.

Consequently, Barbara, Xinyan, Nilou, and Yun Jin have an advantage. Xinyan's situation is a bit unique, though, because of the mentality with which it's approached, as well as the garb with which it's performed.

Yun Jin is a bit better off than them because for starters, she's more or less fully covered, but also because people have a sense of reverence for a valued piece of long-standing culture, so they're less aggressive and pushy. Likewise, while Nilou might be dressed... like that, but again, the whole reverence of tradition comes in, and she's kept up on a wide stage far away from viewers, the whole practice is very well-known and has a lot of funding to hire guards. Barbara keeps up the whole "pure" appeal, which also makes her seem a little more "untouchable," in addition to the general taboo that nuns are entirely off-limits. Regardless, several regions' legislation more or less forbids "celebrity prostitution" -- the act of a manager or production company making a girl famous for some sort of talent, only to start making more of a profit off of her body (something that happened enough times that they felt it necessary to make laws against it, even, although it's more about preventing profit that can't be taxed, more than for the sake of the girl).

Liyue is not one of those nations. It allows for such things due to, predictably, far stricter taxation practices that ensure it won't go unnoticed. And the culture of rock music is quite different from the others, a much less reverent sort of thing.

It's more high-energy and blood-pumping, the performers are known to get rather physically close to their audiences, and it's viewed as more pop culture rather than a sacred, historical tradition. Thus, people have less reverence, and thereby see the performers as less... untouchable. And if they don't view her as untouchable, that spells some problems, and a tendency for entitlement rears its ugly head.

It's not a sacred tradition, so why shouldn't they get touching and groping and sex as part of the after-show?? One huge gangbang would be a perfect finale to a such a heated, high-energy experience.

And unfortunately, it's not really her call to make. The only condition under which she can perform in the first place is by having a manager, and in this case, said manager decides that essentially running a post-performance prostitution side show would be incredibly profitable.

Which is a very accurate prediction. While rock music may not be as popular in Liyue at first, she slowly accumulates a fanbase, and while it's still somewhat of a niche, said niche is a cult following of rabidly obsessive fans. Does a portion of the reason behind her following have to do with those nice exposed thighs? Perhaps. Of course, said fans are also genuinely into the music, but there's no reason to not obsess over the performer too.

So imagine if, for comparison, the average dude had the opportunity to sleep with an idol well-known in her niche, and that's basically what happens here. They're willing to pay insane amounts of money just to touch, and even more to go further. The fame means that she makes far more mora per customer than the average prostitute, too (the reason it's outlawed in some places, since it's difficult to trace the purchases from an individual and not a brothel, at least in other nations). And as with many sorts of celebrity-fan interactions, it's more than just sex -- you can pay to actually sit down and spend time with the girl (very closely monitored of course, so they don't take more than what they paid for), for however long you're willing to pay for. Still, for both her and the other performer-type girls, this setup is still infinitely better than being in an actual brothel or owned by someone -- a fact which all talent managers are very quick to remind their performers of, a sort of quiet looming threat that if the girls can't keep up the singing or dancing or acting or whatever they do, then that's where they'll end up.

As for her, well, she has a rambunctious spirit and all, but conversations with creepy guys aren't exactly the ideal way to spend one's time. There's a lot of o-oh, uh... thanks...? in response to some compliments she might get. Keep in mind, there's no culture of respect or politeness in which guys are informed that such comments are not really going to be perceived as compliments, that a girl might not be all that flattered by it. So because it's totally appropriate in their minds, the most vulgar, disgusting strings of words you can imagine are much more likely to be given out as compliments -- although it's with complete sincerity and coming from a good intention, so, she can't bring herself to be too upset... and besides, she's supposed to say thanks and smile and take it or the manager might get mad.

And it's exhausting. Day after day. As if performances weren't tiring enough. Some people start to notice -- she looks less energetic than usual. She seems tired. She's oddly quiet. It creates some concern. This ultimately leads to an incident in which she ends up passing out on stage out of sheer exhaustion, and that's pretty significant when you consider the amount of weariness it takes for that to happen to such a naturally high-energy person.

Which actually warrants a quick questioning from a medical worker that's called for her, the contents of said conversation end up reaching law enforcement, and turns out, it'll not legal to work her that much. There's labor laws in this nation, after all. Out with the old manager, in with a new one. After that, she gets a much more balanced schedule, is allowed to take days off even... before going right back to it. Phew. The music industry is tough.

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A very, very, very few girls make a life by themselves.

Is it legal? No. Do they take the risk anyway? Of course, if you can you might as well. In any universe, you can get away with quite a lot by simply pretending you're allowed to. It's really astounding sometimes just how much you can do by just acting like you're exactly where you're supposed to be, doing exactly what you're supposed to be doing. Sometimes you have to dress or look the part, though.

Which is fairly easy for Mona, having the ability to make yourself disappear into a faint trail of water. Steal a collar when no one is looking, put it on, and there you go, you look like you belong to someone. Forge papers yourself in case someone gets nosy, and no one will really suspect you did it, since the default assumption is that you can't read or write.

A lot of people think it's very careless for someone to let a girl go walking around on her own, but then again, if that's the case, then it's probably someone really powerful and rich, and no one would want to get on the bad side of someone like that. So, incredibly, people sort of leave her alone, keep a distance from her even. At first, of course, she was naturally terrified it wouldn't work, but it surprisingly goes over quite well. After a while of living off of scraped-together funds (stolen from her own teacher and former legal guardian right around the time of reaching the sell-off-able age, before running off and high-tailing it halfway across the continent), she has to make a living somehow, and decides to do so the same way she would otherwise.

The whole "something you don't see everyday" aspect adds a sort of mysterious and exciting appeal that actually draws in customers. The idea that something is rare and valuable, something that captivates so much attention, sort of subconsciously lends her credibility, people take her word as fact. If it was just any other guy, they'd be less likely to even pay attention, much less believe the predictions, but the whole rarity and uniqueness sort of aligns with the esoteric nature of astrology, it seems fitting and authentic and thereby real.

The stature and physique catches the eye due to standing out amongst crowds (and the garb she ends up wearing certainly helps), they do a double take before coming closer out of curiosity, and usually end up paying for the services. Of course, many ask for additional services, assuming it's available, but those collars sort of serve as an equivalent to how another universe would have wedding rings -- when you point to it, they realize you're off-limits, usually sulking away in disappointment, but not wanting to invoke the wrath of some other guy by pushing further.

She also manages to bribe a local into letting her perform the rental apartment process because he's busy and can't make it today, so he told me to do it, I can sign for it... and turns out they'll allow it if you push. Coming to Mondstadt was a good choice after all, there's no way this would go over so well anywhere else.

One can get around for quite some time like that. But even in the freest nation on the map, it's still bound to come apart at some point.

As with any sort of crime, law enforcement do not like discovering that they have been in some way deceived for an extended period of time. It's embarrassing for them even under normal circumstances, and infinitely more so to have let something like this go right under their noses for months. It feels like her heart stops, hearing a knock on the door and a gruff voice that is definitely not the landlord, saying to open up the door. But the excuses aren't going to work this time, and trying to run away by slipping into the illusory torrent only leads to getting exhausted and coming out of it in the middle of the square in the center of town, only to be immediately tackled by knights in front of an entire crowd (watching with some combination of amusement and entrancement -- hey, look, the tights ripped...)

Damned landlord has been suspicious for a while now, but hey, she was paying for that unit no one else would take. But when she's no longer able to make those payments and ends up running several days late on rent, he realizes he can probably get a lot more money for sending in a tip to the knights about suspicions of criminal activity. Which is true -- it's well-known that, in all nations, there's a standard monetary reward for finding any runaways or otherwise unaccounted for or hidden girls, and potentially even more money if it turns out they're missing from a wealthy owner.

No such case here, due to that timing -- run off right before being sold or given to someone, so they'll have to find someone new. First, though, in cases like this, there's a crucial reeducation and remedial treatment to undergo first...

---

Gangs and treasure hoarders and eremites and all that still exist of course.

And so do pirates. Joining these types of gangs can also be an ideal route to obtaining sex for an otherwise sexless young man. See, oftentimes they will scrape their funds together and buy a communal slave of sorts. Of course there's a lot of bickering whenever the time finally comes to make that purchase -- one guy says he wants a girl with big tits, but another guy wants small tits, this one wants a young one and this guy wants an older one... eventually, either a compromise is reached, one guy with the most authority makes the decision, or, in a rather comical display to an outside observer, they may even take a vote on the matter.

Which is exactly what the Crux fleet does. There were a lot of differing tastes among the men, the vote that ultimately wins (by a single vote, much to the chagrin of those who voted otherwise, but oh well) was a set of characteristics: not particularly young nor particularly older, big tits and big thighs. Or, in the eloquent words of the member who initially proposed this set of features, 'thick as fuck.' Quite the win for the enthusiasts of said traits.

That being said, no one really decided on a personality or anything, so the guy sent to actually go buy the new resident ship slave didn't think much of it.

This poor woman has been through a lot. She's old enough to have been out in the world for some years now, constantly thrown about from one lifestyle and environment to the next. And she has a bit of an... attitude. 'Fiery spirit' is how the vendor worded it. Never been privately owned, always got the short end of the stick and sent to brothels instead. After a while, that really starts to wear on a person's psyche, especially someone stubborn and prideful by nature. Constantly having that pride stamped out creates a lot of resentment. The last of said brothel owners had finally had enough of her tendencies to cause problems, and sent her off. But if anyone can handle that, pirates would be able to, right? So they essentially shove her off on them for a low price.

Some of the members are practically intimidated by the woman. She's not a particularly grouchy or mean person, and is actually good-natured, but she has a bold energy to her. And as it turns out, she doesn't do things just because you tell her to. Scary. Aren't they supposed to be really soft and gentle?? What gives?

Well, it's probably a matter of time, right? Kind of like when you get a dog, and it may be skittish before it adjusts. They just remain hopeful about the matter... it's not like they can hold back anyway.

See, the thing about brothels is that they're still regulated. Despite the whole "need to be put to use" mentality, for health concerns, the girls get breaks each day, they get to take days off per month. The people who run brothels are usually fairly well-educated enough to know that such things are necessary. A bunch of pirates, many of whom have never touched a girl in their lives? Much less so. Why can't she just keep going 24/7? If there's thirty or so of them, that's not enough to spread one hour each evenly!

Or, wait... she probably needs to sleep right? Do the females sleep less or more than normal people? Or is it the same? They end up just having to ask her. Interestingly, plenty of guys have a lot of misconceptions like that -- some tend to greatly overestimate the concept of dimorphic differences, and think of the other sex as a foreign species or the like whose bodies work entirely differently or something, and are surprised to learn that yes, they eat and sleep just the same, they have complex thoughts and wants, they can remember things that happened recently, and so on. Regardless, this unfortunately means they can't all get some every day, so they end up having to evenly divide time. And with time, they learn to be less intimidated, and more commanding. Surely with enough time (and enough mileage of cock), she'll start being less standoffish.

Of course, there's also the issue of keeping her sort of secretive -- if other rival groups were to find out about her, it would be motivation enough for others to raid their ship, possibly getting them all killed. So for the most part, they keep her below deck... turns out though, that has some negative consequences. How come she's all still and lethargic and unresponsive? Are they sensitive to lack of sunlight, like normal people are? Seems like evolution would have gotten rid of need for sun and fresh air by now.

Well, they can take her out during the day, as long as they keep close watch and all. They just hurriedly stuff her back down there if some other ship approaches. Likewise, she's contraband, technically. Obviously they didn't go to a legal market, so they have no papers or anything. This makes it... difficult when arriving in ports that have active law enforcement posted and checking around. Hope she's okay with being gagged and stuffed in a barrel for a couple of hours.

One could find the ways of the will of the universe quite humorous, if you stop to think about it -- in another universe, they'd be taking orders from the same girl they now have bent over every surface of the ship on a daily basis, would be relying on her to take down large enemies too. Fate works in interesting ways.

---

Some roles, in contrast, remain the same in title, but simply take on new meanings and responsibilities.

The divine priestess of Watatsumi, for example, has a very critical job! She is revered, an object of awe and adoration... and a sort of holy prostitute.

They take the whole idea of her being a healer to a maximum extent. It is believed that by having intercourse with the priestess, you will obtain divine blessing and good fortune. Consequently, she's trained specifically for the position. Kokomi gets stamina and endurance training, flexibility training, and so on. So that by the time she finally starts to officially begin fulfilling the role, she'll be perfect at performing the responsibilities that said role entails. Each and every day she can spend hours satiating the needs of her very loyal and adoring soldiers.

Sometimes this means one-on-one sessions with individual soldiers (the promise of getting to have the priestess to yourself for an entire hour is quite the way to motivate the troops to perform tasks, and a morale boost too!), and sometimes it means taking a long line of them, one after the other.

Of course, some might say it's merely a natural, hormonal thing, but if you were to ask them, they believe that the resulting increased motivation in the troops, their increased vigor and elevated mood, yet simultaneous tranquility and lack of stress or hostility with each other, is a divine act of providence, and evidence to the validity of the priestess's deified nature. After spending much of her day tending to healing physical wounds, she also heals the hearts and minds of the soldiers too, with her mere presence (and body).

It really goes beyond being a priestess. See, in the religious canon that has evolved over centuries of development of folk beliefs on the island, she's technically a vessel that carries and serves as a messenger for an elder fertility goddess. Due to this, she's also seen as a predictor of fortune in the social sense -- the divine priestess being impregnated is supposed to be a positive omen for the people of the island as a whole, indicating birthrate prosperousness for the near future. It's somewhat akin to how traditional folk beliefs would say this or that sign indicates an upcoming good harvest or the like.

It's all done with what is, to an outside observer, a bizarre and even comical sort of seriousness and reverence. They take the matter very seriously and stake great importance on it, exhibit religious-like austerity while essentially running a train on the poor girl.

Sometimes it is akin to a religious ceremony. Once a month, on full moon nights (when it is believed hydro is at it's maximum power, given the connection to tides and all that), they have essentially a huge, one-girl orgy, consuming the entire night, complete with lots of food and alcohol. If the priestess were to be impregnated at that time, it's said that would produce an incredibly powerful soldier one day. So they all give it their best to pump her all full as possible.

And if one soldier in particular is having a rough time of it, shows a lot of signs of stress or depression, they just send him on his way to go straight to her. Sometimes even if a guy is sick or something, they do the same, and if he gets better after some time (you know, like the body tends to naturally do on its own when you get a cold) then they claim it to be the medicinal properties of her body and fluids that can heal even illness! Incredible. Although sometimes this means the priestess herself gets sick in return. This, they believe, is basically her using her divine power to remove the illness from the man and taking it upon herself instead. Such a self-sacrificing, benevolent priestess she is, to do that for them. They're eternally grateful.

Oh, but of course, none of this means she has any sort of authority or anything. Other leaders are still appointed to take care of the actual decision-making and all that. After all, she's priceless, worshipped, the object of awe and devotion and adoration, but at the end of the day she's still... you know.

But the Resistance soldiers aren't the only ones that get a sharable group pet. Of course, having that resource (read: pussy) readily available is crucial to the success and morale of soldiers. So the shogunate forces get a toy as well, even if theirs is not quite as revered, nor as... compliant.

Likewise, though, the Kujou clan does traditionally take this responsibility on, so like Kokomi, Sara was more or less well-aware all her life this would one day be her fate, and was prepared accordingly. She's not particularly eager or accepting of it, though, in fact is quite resentful. Some girls are like that -- they just don't have the capacity to comprehend the bigger picture of the world, so they're resentful and rebellious and don't understand why the hierarchy and order of things is so important. They view the subservience as humiliating or something, but it's really not, it's an honor and a privilege and she should feel very proud of it... unless of course they want it to be an act of humiliation and degradation, in which case it is. But she's not supposed to feel that way unless they want her to at the moment, of course.

But propriety is of great importance to Inazuman culture, and really hammered into people's heads as something to be valued, so... if these are the duties that are in place, so be it. These guys are a bit rougher, they lack the same sense that what they're shoving their cock in is a divine being, so they can be more impatient and demanding. That doesn't mesh very well with her personality, as you might imagine. Narrowed eyes, a sternness to her voice telling them to be patient and wait their turns... but they can just ignore that. Alternate solutions exist, of course, she's got plenty of holes, and they can be stretched to accommodate more than one person at a time, too. She also can't argue against it if her mouth is full.

They're still respectful, to an extent, and they appreciate her a lot! But she's also scary to some... she walks a fine line wherein she's liked for her contributions, especially a lot of the younger or newer boys are very fond of her, approach her smiling... but the smile wavers due to her intimidating aura. That being said, as she's frequently subjected to rather degrading treatment, being able to bend her over at any given time is an experience that helps a lot of new recruits shake off that intimidation. They still love her though! Even if she's not particularly nice or affectionate.

For a lot of them, it's quite literally the only female interaction they have ever had, so they take even the slightest kind words or praise or willing touch as a sign of affection, and cling to it like their lives depend on it. They become desperate for more, hungry for more little droplets of affection, or even favor, if they could manage to be so lucky. Plenty of guys have received a polite gesture or her slumping over on them out of exhaustion post-coitus, and gone on to inform their entire squad that he is now her favorite, based on this clear evidence. All of said positive interactions with her are considered great bragging rights amongst them.

And much like with the opposing forces, they also tend to have large-scale, orgy-like events at regular intervals with a sort of ceremonial flair to it. Kujous produce very strong and intelligent soldiers, so the hope is that with the sperm of so many men inside her all at once, surely only the strongest will manage to impregnate, producing the best offspring possible. In one form of service or another, she's just as vital to their success either way.

-----

And much like Inazuma, Mondstadt also values the health and well-being of their knights. But Mondstadt has less of an orderly culture focused on propriety and all that, so the knights are a bit less patient and more aggressive in their pursuits -- leading to conflict and sometimes subsequent injury when fighting over a girl. Consequently, they add some more funding to the communal sex budget, and get more than one.

Now, as mentioned previously, girls born into noble families like Eula are essentially protected from this sort of thing, so they usually obtain ones born to normal households, who didn't quite make the cut to be protected by becoming nuns either.

Which is a possibility -- joining a nunnery is one of the very few ways in Teyvat to completely escape being some sort of pet or slave. However, given the... exceptionally large number of applicants, while also having very limited space, they can't just take in everyone, so it's usually on a first-come first-serve basis if a space is open, or if you have some sort of benefit to them. Barbara, for example, much like Xinyan previously, is marketed as an idol and draws in revenue, all while remaining off-limits to the crowds of fans. Rosaria has her own set of skills, and, well, she was one of those "right place right time" individuals who just so happened to come along when a slot was available.

Amber and Noelle would have likely not been as lucky, but they didn't really consider it anyway, both are pretty happy in their roles. That being said, applying for the knights is also a much better outcome than public brothels, so they're fairly content where they are. Both are very spirited and dedicated girls who give it their all! They're very committed to being helpful and properly performing the job description. Genuinely, both are fairly content -- being in a world where it's all so normal, this is considered a pretty good life to be living, and they're both rather happy to be useful and do their best. Jean was lucky enough to actually marry someone, so she's off-limits to most of the knights, but these two are instead at the beck and call of anyone who needs them.

Of course, higher-ranked knights get their needs prioritized, but even after they're done, the lower-ranks can have some too. They're also very well-protected; in general, even brothels try to take care of the girls' well-being as much as they can, but that's harder when you're working with large numbers and need to make a profit, so sometimes those girls are just told to tolerate things they'd rather not. But in this case, with just the two of them, if someone mistreats them in any way, it's grounds for immediate reprimand and punishment. After all, the harmony of the whole atmosphere is largely dependent on the two of them -- when they're happy and all bright and bubbly, it lifts everyone else's spirits as well, keeps up the morale.

It's all very normalized to go through the meetings with one of them crawling around under the table, moving her mouth from one to the next as it drones on. Even afterwards, when some individuals come up to ask questions after the meeting, there's always some guy fucking one girl over the long meeting table on the other side of the room. Sometimes they have to tell them to quiet down. Sex is generally freely given, just depends on who is busy at a time, and they're patient enough to form lines most of the time. Sleeping is a much more involved process though -- with so many knights, they have to coordinate a sleeping schedule so that each one gets to have a nice warm body to hold at night once a month or so.

Oh, and of course, they take care of some small tasks too. Noelle tends to prefer cleaning up and staying in headquarters, while Amber tends to go out with exploration patrols and the like (they have to have at least one, what are they supposed to do if they get horny in the middle of patrol if they don't have an immediately available hole??), and she can do little things like set fires, light lamps, make food, all of which are more or less the only use her vision ever gets.

------

But unlike them, everything is so much infinitely worse when you're someone coming from somewhere... normal. Poor Lumine.

Most girls are just born into the system -- to a family, from which their fate is determined by class and by the whims of auctioneers who determine if they get sold or go to public use, and a few by special circumstances.

So when some girl just sort of appears out of nowhere, there's a bit of confusion on to what should even be done.

She's smart and observant and all, so she would know something is wrong. Walking into the city gates and being met with wide-eyed stares, the sort of surprise where people freeze up in the middle of some task and go completely still, fixated on her, slack-jawed and eyebrows raised.

There are plenty of reasons, though, to imagine why this might be. She does stand out, clothing and all, or maybe there's some feature she has that doesn't exist in people here that she hasn't noticed yet. With such a crowd as the bustling city, it's easy to not immediately notice the singular glaring difference between oneself and everyone else.

That doesn't last long, though. Sure, she might have been doing something against cultural norms, but being apprehended? That's a little too far! What could the problem possibly be, that this is necessary? Or that's her train of thought, suddenly feeling a sense of dread as a group of three or so knights surround her, tell her to come with them, refuse to answer why.

Rather bold, though, they think. Rather stupid, too. The runaways usually move at night, and try to stay hidden. But walking around in broad daylight, right in the middle of the street, showing off so much skin? What did she expect to happen? If anything, dressed like that, she's lucky she didn't get jumped by a crowd. Granted, everyone knows they're not particularly intelligent, but come on.

Of course, they don't seem very convinced by her story. They just sort of chortle and smirk, amused at first, quickly annoyed when it persists. From another world, she says. Uh-huh. Sure. Listen, don't make this harder than it has to be, just tell us where you're supposed to go.

But she's relentless in her wild fantasies she keeps spouting, and thus, they're forced to dig through databases, contact locals and see if anyone knows where this girl is supposed to be. The efforts prove futile. No one knows. There's not even a record of her birth or existence across the different nations. Maybe she really is telling the truth.

Not that it matters anyway.

No, a quick examination -- just in case, since if she really is some kind of alien, her body could be different -- proves that she has all the right parts. They had to get multiple people to hold her down so someone could do the stripping and examining, which is quite the shocking experience, as most of these guys are only used to seeing very demure and passive females, so seeing one put up a fight like this is quite unusual. But she proves to be very normal, physically at least. Tits for squeezing and milking. All the right holes and a womb, and hips that looks very childbirth-suitable. A little bit on the strong side, especially for her size, but of course not so much that it could ever be comparable to the average man. Besides, a few months of no physical activity should take care of that anyway.

They can just put her with the others. So they just haul her off to sell like any normal girl, kicking and screaming the entire time. She really started freaking out when she overheard a few choice words and finally put two and two together to understand the position she's in, they had to pretty quickly take that weapon away, and tie her up too much to use this newfound elemental power... and that... fairy thing gets put in a cage too. Maybe they'll sell it or something. Still, the girl fights to the bitter end, dragging her heels and thrashing like a wild animal. Not that that's necessarily a bad thing either, no, quite marketable actually. Some guys even pay extra for the fighters.

-----

Some girls are really sheltered, though. One would have to be, to remain in a little fantasy and never having grown out of it. "Prinzessin." Hah, give him a break.

That's the observation of one particular young man, jobless and just barely scraping by, who has decided to try his hand at kidnapping and selling to traffickers as a means to make a little extra cash. A nobody, just a face like any other, nothing special about him, and self-aware of it. People should acknowledge when they're just an average person, he thinks, and this girl could stand to take that advice to heart too. Sure, you can pretend to be a princess or whatever, but that doesn't change that you're just a regular person.

Gods. Shut up. Shut up! Please.

How did he even end up here? The poor man has been listening to this girl go on for ten minutes. What did he ever do to deserve this? He thought it was a lucky coincidence, and took advantage of it -- some dumb girl roaming around in her yard unattended, so he decided to grab her and drag her off thinking he could sell her to actual traffickers, and now has to listen to... that.

...that you shall unbind me this very instant, lest it be your wish to suffer the unbridled and maximal--

I'm going to gag you if you don't stop talking.

He's heard more words previously unfamiliar to him in the past hour than the rest of his life combined. He's silently sitting there, weighing back and forth in his head if the usual reward price is worth this psychological torture. Maybe he can just drop her off back at her home. Agh, but there might already be authorities there if she's been noticed missing, and he'll get arrested.

Now he's stuck with the consequences of his actions, at least for the next 24 hours or so until he finally makes his way by moonlight to a known hangout for traders (traffickers typically have a lot of overlap with Treasure Hoarders and Eremites and other such groups), and then he can shove her off on them and collect a reward. It's bearable... barely. She even has the nerve to electrocute him, didn't even see that pesky gem-looking thing attached to her until he got a shock to the face from a damn bird. Pretty sure these things don't have a lot of value when sold on their own, so he'll just give it to the traders too... but confiscates it for now, and the bird disappears with it, seemingly much to the girl's distress, but he can ignore that if he concentrates on tuning her voice out. It's somewhat hard to resist temptations too, but the traders find it distasteful if it's evident you had your way with the goods prior to drop-off, so he can refrain for now, maybe visit a brothel later.

He's glad to finally be rid of her the next day, after carrying the girl all the way to the next town over and dropping her off with a trafficker in the woods before the sun rises. Could barely discuss price negotiations over her babbling on and on with very eloquent threats to curse him or something like that. Nonetheless, he spends the day gleefully drinking away. He's already spent a small sum on booze by the time night comes around, and has just left the local pub when a familiar face comes seeking him out of the crowd. One of the traders from earlier. Says it's urgent. Draws him outside into the woods.

He has the same girl from earlier with him. Ankles and wrists bound, a very thick layer of tape over her mouth. The trader picks her up and extends his arms out, holding her out for him to take.

Take her back.

He pauses.

...Huh?

The trader huffs in frustration.

They can't handle her.

...HUH??

Told me to give her back to you. Keep her. Don't need the money back.

In one swift motion, the trader shoves her forward into his arms, turns, and bolts off.

And now, he is left with the girl in his possession. Can't take her home without running the risk of present law enforcement arresting him on the spot. He doesn't like the thought of just letting her go, either, could get taken by some really bad people -- hey, he's a trafficker, not a heartless monster.

There has to be some sort of alternative. Which he might be able to think of one, if--

I was nice enough to take that gag off, shut up long enough for me to hear myself think.

Ugh. But even then, there seems to be no real option that works out well. He'll have to keep her with him until he can find a trader willing to take her off his hands.

Which proves difficult, as it turns out, stories traveled quickly, and all the local traders have been told about him and the girl he has with him, and to avoid them. Keep her, they all say, some chuckling. It's not just a matter of the... obvious, but also, girls who are, ah, unique in some way, present a bit of a problem to illegal traffickers, as they can be recognized by those who might have previously known them and reported to the law, whether it's for visual traits or ones related to personality. She's too much of a risk.

And thus, he's just sort of... stuck with her. Ends up in a sort of limbo state wherein he's dragging her along with him, keeps saying he'll drop her off with the next person, but eventually stops trying. Yet, he's also made no promises to do anything else. And again, despite being a bit of a grouch and having participated in morally loathsome activities, he's not heartless, of course he gives her food (Oh my god, stop complaining! I went out of my way to make it for you, I didn't have to do that) and a sleeping space (--because I can't *afford* another sleeping bag, okay? I spend all my money taking care of you, you ungrateful little... ugh, come on, just share this one...) and puts up with some rather frustrating tendencies (I am NOT going to call you that, for the millionth time.). She can be... difficult.

Of course, it's not long before he breaks and ends up taking those frustrations out on the girl anyway... she words it something along the lines of 'defiling her with his repulsive plebian seed' or something like that, he's stopped paying much attention. Even if she squirms and pushes and spits insults at him, it's still a warm, wet hole. And besides, said insults decrease in frequency over time. So do the threats to annihilate him after regaining her supposed "full power," whatever that means. He's pretty strict about keeping the vision tucked away from her anyway... at first. After a while, he realizes that if she has her bird, she'll be in a much better mood and much less likely to ramble on and on, so it's allowed for short periods of time. Said bird is not too fond of him, though, tried to attack him more than once. She freaked out -- even broke character -- when he threatened to turn it into a roast, so the compromise is that if she tells it not to attack him, he can tolerate it.

...Eventually, he starts to think that this is okay, perhaps. He can just... keep her himself. Avoid law enforcement, take on a few odd jobs to get money for extra food. Scrape together the funds for fake documents. He'll just have to be vigilant so no one steals her. Not that he's getting emotionally attached or anything, no... so he thinks to himself whenever he's laying there at night.

--that if not for your misdeeds alone should ill fortune befall you, it would be upon me to--

Please let me sleep.

-----

Finally, there is one way to live a relatively free life: being a non-human, even if humanoid. Of course, the adepti fit this descriptor perfectly, so Ganyu has an easier time than most.

Working among humans is, of course, off limits. They wouldn't allow it anyway, and it would just lead to trouble. Thus, she lives a much more isolated life than she would otherwise, remaining instead in the wilderness, far away from people and consequential danger.

...But, of course, as they always do, human guys find ways.

There is an urban legend of sorts about the qilin adeptus. She's very special, because she's very free, and lives all by herself, up in the mountains, so it's said. That's a very foreign concept to most guys.

And isn't it a shame? Free pussy walking about in the wilderness, going unutilized. Imagine the most perfect, amazing food one could eat, and it's just left to sit there and rot, uneaten -- what's even the point, if the thing isn't going to be used for the purpose for which it exists? It makes no sense. One of the many enigmas of the non-human world.

Someone should fix that. Or so is the general consensus on the matter.

There's no need to make up some tall tale about her having magical or medicinal properties that will heal disease or grant immortality or anything like that, no. Some do say it brings good fortune to see her with your own eyes, but that's not really in the forefront of anyone's mind. What's more important is the very concept of conquest itself.

That's why so many people come trying to take her down. No real benefit to themselves, and it's actually taking quite a risk... but can you imagine being the guy that gets to say he's the one that captured and tamed a mythical beast? To come out of the wilderness with that creature in tow for everyone to see? It's quite the power-trip, egotistical fantasy, the sort of perverse fantasy that gets a lot of young guys' blood pumping (usually towards a specific bodily region). And it motivates plenty to try their hand at finding the creature.

Thing is, most young men are an unfortunate combination of impatient, loud, and quite dumb. So time and time again, they always fail. She's alerted to their presence and flees, and they're forced to come back empty-handed.

The problem is that this only makes the whole thing worse. After so many people fail, her notoriety increases, more and more people have heard of her, and only increases the sense of elusiveness and challenge -- that is, for every person that fails, it will be that much more satisfying of a victory, all the more of a source of pride, to whoever finally doesn't fail. Not to mention, somehow, a myth was born that if you break her horns off, she'll go limp and be unable to move, and now the boys bring up hacksaws and chisels and hammers with them. It's scary. Even if she uses an inhuman qilin form, they still recognize her too.

Of course, part of it is her own doing... see, she's still so good-hearted, so empathetic, that she's saved the lives of those trying to capture her more than once. Some poor guy knocked himself out cold on a rock... he'll freeze to death if left here. So she takes him back, puts him down close to the edge of civilization. Or, a few times, some guy has slid down onto a ledge, no way to climb up or down, and she extends a hand to help pull them up -- and run off as soon as they're on their feet. This only increases the number of survivors to go home, tell the tale, and spark further interest in others, and it likewise increases the chance they'll try again, but... she just can't let them be harmed.

But still, due to the aforementioned traits they tend to have, most fail, over and over. Yet, there's a subtle awareness in the back of her mind that, one day, someone is bound to finally succeed.

But as long as a human is peaceful... she won't do anything to discourage them.

There's a boy that's come into the wilderness these days to hunt. The other adepti would be a bit stricter, would tell him he has to leave, but... he wouldn't be this far away from the nearest village by choice. There must be a food shortage or something. And he's hunting actual game, leaves with a few pheasants or rabbits at the end of each day, and then he goes back to a small tent on the edge of the territory, having made a full camp for himself, fire and tools and all. A few little makeshift stations, one for tanning hides. Just a hunter, nothing more.

In fact, she becomes a bit worried sometimes, and goes to check on the boy, ensure he's fine, which he always is.

She gets a bit too close, though, and ends up stepping on a stick, snapping it in half. He looks up, having been crouched down and prodding the fire. Eyes go wide.

...But then he smiles. Waves. Doesn't get up and come charging at her, doesn't fixate on her with that crazed expression some have. The lack of surprise at the sight of her seems to indicate that he knows of her, knows who she is, but he makes no move to cause any harm.

He doesn't pose any problems. He never goes far up into the mountains, usually stays at the base of it, hunting small animals, only venturing up to get the occasional ram or deer. He has a routine -- hunts most days, every Friday uses leftover guts to go fishing, then on weekends, he hauls all those tanned animal pelts over his shoulder, leaves overnight, and comes back the next day with all the little tools and non-perishable footstuffs and books presumably bought with the money from selling the hides. Such a simple life, some humans do lead. It sounds pleasant, really.

And he still sees her sometimes. They happen to cross paths at a distance. He always smiles and waves, but never does anything to harm her. He's a safe one. She's happy he's prosperous, and goes to check on him often from high vantage points during her daily routine, the same walk each day. Oh, now he's cutting down trees... Building a cabin. Must intend to stay long-term. No matter.

He's not even around, one fateful day. She's only going about her path as usual. The same little walk she takes, each and every day. The autumn leaves pile up all over the ground. The area is so beautiful around this time, so the walks are even more relaxing, she likes to take her time, slowly making her way down the beaten path where the grass has been worn away by all the animals and the occasional traveler passing over it, and although it's covered in leaves now, she still knows where it is by heart. Each and every--

Step.

There's a sort of pain that doesn't get an immediate sound. Intense, overwhelming pain, that hits the nervous system with such a harsh, brutal shock, it leaves one speechless. Gasping for breath, chest and stomach muscles spasming, body going rigid.

Only after a few seconds does she hit the ground and scream. Falling down makes it pull further at the flesh, and she wails. A wail so deafening it could be heard for a mile or more.

And when she props herself up on an elbow, body lying on the ground, and looks down at her leg with watery eyes and blurred vision, she can still see the jagged metal spikes, the blood oozing out where the metal pierces the flesh. A jaw-like contraption, triggered by weight pressing down on the flat part in the center. The same kind of trap used by...

...used by... hunters...

A familiar face pokes out from behind a tree. Comes rushing over to help.

But it's anything but comforting. The soft smile and pleased expression makes it clear that it has all gone as was intended.

Sorry I had to hurt you.

He's still smiling. But so sweet. So soft and comforting, it isn't right, doesn't line up with someone who would do this.

It's okay. You'll be alright.

Pulls the weighted piece out of the ground. Can't pull it out here, or she could bleed too much, have to wait until getting back to the camp. Wait, is that even a problem for them? Can they bleed to death? Well, better safe than sorry. He asks, but she can't answer any questions. She's sobbing and wailing, chest heaving with rapid, shuddering breaths, body trembling. To see a revered creature in this pathetic of a state is probably very rare. He feels special. And very guilty, keeps mumbling apologies... But special.

She doesn't fight it when he rolls her to her side, gently ties her hands behind her back. She squirms a bit and jerks against the retraints when he takes the vision off her hip, but she's too restrained and in too much pain to do much. And she merely whimpers and trembles when she's picked up. Her leg is bent at an odd angle. Must have broken it when she collapsed, twisting it against the metal.

But he was considerate. Made sure to set the traps very close to the camp, so it will only be a short distance. He's memorized where each one is -- he saved up a lot of money, bought enough raw ore to make a ton of them -- and expertly maneuvers around each one until out of the area, cooing comforting words and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

He did also get a saw with that money, though. Heard the whole horn thing, and you can never be too careful... but that can wait until tomorrow.

[sunjaesol]

love, between the shadow and the soul

chenford | drabble | post-canon | title: sonnet xvii - pablo neruda

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Look, Tim Bradford did not get attracted to rookies, okay? In all the years he had been a TO, none had grabbed his attention. Not when he and Isabelle were dating, or married, or when she disappeared into the night with a trail of illicit affairs and a shot of heartache for him. Dozens of young women had sat in that car beside him and never ever had he let their femininity distract him. He served his country. He fought wars overseas. He looked Death right in the eye every single day and never blinked.

But then came officer Lucy Chen. He instantly knew the type of cop she’d be the second she turned in her seat, meeting his gaze for the first time, and nervously smiled at him. Nerves were normal, he was aware, but the doe-eyed look and the hopeful grin sold her out. No mystery. Just another young cop that would either slip through the cracks by the exam by tanking their grade due to stress, or she’d become a desk duty cop — one that stayed far from danger, that handled life with a perpetual softer touch ‘cause of her shrink parents.

Nothing wrong with that, Bishop would chastise him. Every cop had its use, she’d add. Sure, that might be true, but Tim didn’t want to babysit an armed toddler waiting for it to cry and call for mom. With just a couple well-placed Tim-tests, she’d be out of his hair in no time and then he could cross his fingers for a better recruit in the following weeks.

Life had the ability to change in a snap though — their funny, yet stern reminder that the universe called the shots, not the gun in his holster, or the rulebook. He got shot. Officer Chen backed him up. Her stubborn, yet brazen, yet honest attitude reeled him in just enough to ignore her little quirks she always joyfully displayed in the shop. Whenever he didn’t nip her ramblings in the bud fast enough, she babbled on and on about her personal life, her personal issues and relationships, like they were best friends (They weren’t! Boots and him never befriended!), like their relationship was anything more than a transactional training period. They got each other’s six. That was it.

But fuck, man. She got under his skin, too.

Lucy wore this… really nice perfume. A lot of female officers had make-up and perfume on, allowed a small sliver of self-expression, and he and Lopez had spend countless hours in a shop together. He was used to it. But somehow, Lucy’s stuck in his nose and didn’t leave. He felt like a creep, thinking about the blend of cardamom and oranges and cherry blossoms mixing with her warm skin, uncontrollable while also wanted. He wanted to fantasise about that fucking perfume of hers, a realisation that took a long time to come to terms with.

That didn’t mean he liked her though — he quickly corrected himself the first time he caught the pattern of behaviour — all it meant was that Lucy had good taste in perfume. Case closed.

So why did he linger whenever her shimmery eyes flicked up at him, why did his breath catch in his throat when her voice dropped to that infuriating sincerity as she uttered words of appraisal? Why his heart go haywire when she recorded all those audio books for him; an out of line gesture and overzealous task for a boot, which would normally result in him laughing their face.

Tim never thought he’d get over Isabelle, nor did he ever believe he’d have his happily ever after with Rachel, but with Lucy he foolishly hoped for more. A more that came from such a stupid and deluded place, probably fostered through months of loneliness and the Pavlovian response to her perfume, but one he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop it. The man was always in control about everything, ran his own tests and went over every possible outcome every day, every hour — and yet he didn’t see her coming. Lucy Chen had been right under his nose and he hadn’t been prepared for the ground to disappear beneath his feet; something that should honestly get him fired. The callousness of his emotions while entertaining the idea of a relationship with his own boot sentenced him straight to P2 or desk duty, or whatever.

Lucy deserved someone better, anyway.

Someone that understood her love for sage and cleansing homes. Someone that liked veggie burgers, chai lattes, karaoke nights and social media lurking. Someone that wouldn’t hesitate for one second to open her door for a teenage girl in need of safety and a little bit of that Chen-love. Someone that wasn’t any of those firemen assholes, but wasn’t Tim either.

He never let his insecurities get the best of him, but after seeing her thrive as a P2 without him, handling undercover stints like a pro, conquering her trauma of being buried alive, it only showcased that she had more bravery in her index finger than some army members had in their entire body, all while staying innately kind. Of course Tim lost his mind over her. Of course he tried shaping officer Barnes to be more like Lucy — more sun and bite and charisma, less army BS. Of course, of course, of course. Even Rosalind, the person he hated most besides Caleb, had him figured out in seconds. He was obvious as hell.

Which was why he had to move stations. Away from the Mid-Wilshire Division and to another. He couldn’t be around her anymore and risk compromising missions or attacks. He didn’t tell Angela the details, though her knowing look said enough, and simply replied that she’d miss him and that she was sure the chief would happily reinstate him any time.

He should’ve known that information leaked through like a wildfire.

The morning of his resignment, uniform neatly folded in his locker, Lucy stopped him in the hallway with the most befuddled expression he’d ever seen.

“What?” he said.

“What the hell,” she exclaimed. “You’re leaving and I have to hear it from Angela? Why’re you…? You love this division. Is everything okay?”

Shouldering past her, he drawled over his shoulder: “Everything’s fine, officer Chen. I’d advise you to put on your uniform and get to roll call.”

“Don’t pull this crap with me,” she bit back, latching onto his arm before he was out of reach. His feet reflexively stopped in place, stupidly waiting on her to finish her train of thought. “Tim, you can tell me if something’s wrong. We’ve been through… way too much for you to act this cold with me.”

He scoffed, feigning mockery, and put his hands on his hips. “We? Chen, I was your TO. That’s it. Get it out of your head it was more.”

Lucy blinked, once, twice, a hurt expression crossing her features, followed by disbelief and a quiet contempt he had become awfully familiar with. Swallowing back the regret, he watched as she pursed her lips and took a step back. “Wow. Okay.”

“Don’t take it personally.”

“Hard not to, officer Bradford,” she muttered. Turning to the locker rooms, she added, “Talk to me when you’re ready to not be an asshole.”

That should’ve been his cue to let her go and resume his trek to sergeant Grey, but a whiff of her fragrance wafted in his face from her dancing curls and any sensical thought was knocked out his head. He wanted to embrace her and burrow his face in her hair, he wanted to hold her with intent, he wanted to kiss the scent off her skin. His feet followed her instead, both fully aware and totally impulsive at once. He chose the excuse of loving a good argument with her to then utter: “I’m not an asshole, Chen. I’m honest.”

“If you’re honest, you’d admit that we’ve been very close friends these past months,” she exhaled, refusing to look him in the eye. He supposed he deserved that. Stopping in front of her locker, she continued with, “Distorting your own reality to fit your macho narrative isn’t healthy. Also, this is the women’s locker room. Out. Now.”

Tim sputtered out a laugh and crossed his arms. “Macho narrative? Please.”

Lucy’s eyes narrowed, all air sucked out the room at the intensity of her stare, and Tim felt himself flailing, suddenly wondering why the hell he wanted to turn in his badge when the only place he could have moments with lucy was, well, here. Why was he giving up on this, how silly it might be?

With a resolute voice, she said, “Tim, why are you resigning?”

Nothing in his entire career prepared him for this. Tim Bradford had survived Iraq and Afghanistan, twelve years of the LAPD and counting, a deadly virus, hundreds of bullets taken by the vest and felt the power of death on the blue lips of Lucy in the quiet countryside. Fear got pushed aside. Pride pulled him forward, onwards. But right now, he had to take a leap of faith — the sole thing he never relied on, but Lucy did — and trust she’d be there after the fall.

(He wanted to be that amazing someone for her.)

“Because of you,” he whispered. His fight or flight told him to run for the first time in forever, but he kept his feet glued to the floor.

Her jaw fell slack in shock. “E-excuse me? Me?! I’ve done nothing wrong!”

“Exactly,” he spit. “You… you’re…” Tim sighed. “You’re the best, Lucy.”

Faltering, her brows furrowed in utter confusion, a grain of her fury replaced with compassion. He wasn’t sure if that was warranted. All he was trying to do was get it off his chest, confess, before it escalated to insurmountable heights. “I don’t think I understand.”

“Uh…”

“You’re resigning, because I’m the best?” she tried to deduce. “No offense, any other day I’d be dancing right now, but this is just…” She gestured at him. “So weird.”

Tim let out a miserable sigh and ripped the band-aid off. Fuck it. “I’m trying to be honest about my feelings, Lucy.”

She froze. “What?”

“I like you. A lot.” Her wonderstruck expression didn’t make him feel better, so he quickly added: “Which is why I gotta decrease the risk of this exploding in our faces and go.”

“Whoa!” Lucy’s hand wrapped around his, eyes wide and searching, like any empirical data would be found within his green irises, otherwise known as fondness and unresolved tension with every quiet moment they had. “Is this… another test? Are you getting back at me for pranking you?”

He quirked a brow. “You’re a P2 now. Tests are over.”

“Right,” she quipped, catching herself. She let go of him and nervously tucked a lock behind her ear. “Yeah. Okay. And you’re serious?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. O-kay. Let me, uh…” the locker swung open “… wrap my head around this.”

“It’s a pretty easy thing to—”

“Tim.”

“Yeah, okay.” He backed off, hating how the control was out of his hands now, how he practically shoved his heart in her grip and her pretty fingers could crush it to dust if she wanted to. “I’ll let you do that.”

Walking out the locker room, he took a deep breath and straightened up his face. Alright. He royally screwed that over. If his army buddies knew, they’d all laugh in his face and tease him for the rest of his life. But at least he told her and got his answer, that a relationship was off the table but that they could save their friendship once he switched divisions and some distance mended his twisted, inside-out heart. Lucy had rocked his world and all she had to do was exist.

“Tim!”

“Wha— wow!”

Her body crashed into him the second he turned around to her beautiful voice, Lucy’s arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him down to her level ‘til all he experienced were her sweet eyes and breathless smile and a kiss. Lucy kissing him, slow and tentative, but it lit his heart aflame and urged him to hold onto her. Her perfume was all-encompassing, nose full of the fragrance and the soft slope of her neck and long, brown hair and fuck, he was kissing Lucy Chen. Except he didn’t care if the entire precinct idly watched by, or if she yanked him out the building on impulse, or anything — ‘cause he was kissing her and it was perfect. Her plump lips were better than he ever imagined.

Her hands slid from his hair to his shoulders, arms and then his hands, squeezing. His forehead pressed against hers, embarrassingly weak in the knees from that incredible kiss that he didn’t dare to stand up straight. Two silly grins broke loose on their faces. He had no clue what to do now, or not do, but he did know he wanted her. He wanted everything.

Lucy decided for him.

“Don’t go,” she whispered.

Tim smiled. “Okay.”

[chordwrites]

The Healer

Prologue (not necessary to read first but provides some context)

Healer hid, watching Hero approach the beaten and unmoving Villain. If they were dead, all of Healer’s efforts would be meaningless. 

Usually, Healer would wait until the battle was over to attend to the injured, or would find a moment when the fighting parties were separated to offer a quick heal. But Hero and Villain had never separated long enough for Healer to intervene, and Healer doubted that this hero would grant Villain any respite. 

Healer pulled a few fireworks out of their satchel. They snuck a few building away—close enough for Hero to hear it but far enough to give Healer a few moments with Villain while Hero investigated. Healer muttered a small prayer, to who, they did not know. If this didn’t work, they’d be all out of ideas for helping Villain. 

Quickly, they lit the fireworks, aiming them low, but away from any buildings that might hold occupants. The dumpsters should work nicely, and if a fire started, Hero would be able to put it out before it affected any citizens.

If their plan was successful, that is. 

Healer raced towards the site of the battle, the explosion of fireworks sounding a few paces behind them and the impact against the dumpster augmenting the noise. They stuck to the shadows, and sighed in relief when they found Villain alone. 

Healer crept forward, dread building as they searched for any sign that Villain was still breathing. They rested their hands on Villain’s chest, smiling a little when Villain’s chest rose and fell against their palms. 

Healer concentrated, focusing warm energy out of their hands and into Villain, willing their body to be whole again. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Hero asked from behind them. 

Healer jumped, but maintained the energy coursing into Villain.

“Healing them,” they said weakly. 

“Why?”

“Because I can, and they needed it.” Their motivation had never been complex. If you have the ability to help others, you do it. 

Hero scoffed. “Don’t you know the things they’ve done? You’re healing a monster.”

“I... not the specifics.” Healer had tried to stay away from the news and media after they’d realized that the heroes could be just as cruel as the villains.

“You’re young, so I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. They’ve murdered hundreds, and the total casualty tally is even larger. Is that kind of person worth saving?” Hero paused, either waiting for a response or allowing Healer to soak in their question. Regardless, Healer chose not to respond, instead staring intently at their hands and the warm glow that emanated from them. “We always need new heroes, and your drive to help others is admirable. But what you’re doing now isn’t justice.” Hero pointed at Villain. “Helping someone like them isn’t justice.”

Healer’s hands shook. “I don’t care about justice. I don’t think I have the right to decide who deserves to be saved and who doesn’t.” God, healing was draining enough without debating personal morals with another super. 

“Then listen to me, I’m saying this one doesn’t.” 

The arrogance. “I don’t think you should be able to make that decision either,” Healer said.  

The following silence sent a shiver down Healer’s spine. Dammit, why couldn’t they heal any faster? “If you save them, all the death they wrought from here on out will be your responsibility to bear.”

Healer's power continued to pour into Villain. That was a responsibility that Healer accepted, though they did not bear it well. It kept them up at night, and the accompanying depression had worried their mother to no end for the year or so they’d been doing this. They didn’t want Villain to hurt anyone, but they didn’t want to see them killed either. Healer didn’t know what was right, but they knew Hero’s way wasn’t it. It couldn’t be. They'd decided it was easier to forget about right and wrong, and just focus on healing anyone they could. Healer wouldn’t discriminate between the injured and dying. 

Maybe it was too idealistic. Or maybe the adults weren’t idealistic enough. 

Hero laughed quietly—a dark, intimidating sound. “If you’re helping the likes of a villain, you might as well be one yourself.” 

The sudden rustle of movement startled Healer out of their concentration. They spun around, and Hero was in front of them, fist swinging. Healer braced themself.

Arms wrapped around Healer from behind pulling them back just before Hero’s fist connected. The arms grasped Healer’s waist and lifted them into a firefighter’s carry over Villain’s shoulder. Villain dodged a few more swings, keeping Healer secure despite the fast pace of the encounter. 

Then, Villain ran, weaving between buildings and through alleyways as Hero kept on their trail. Not knowing what else to do, Healer clutched the back of Villain’s super suit. 

Though Hero was fast, Villain seemed to know exactly where to go to confuse them, slinking into the shadows and maneuvering through the most obstructed areas. A few minutes into the chase, Villain halted, causing Healer’s face to slam into Villain’s back. The two ducked into a crevice between two buildings that Healer wouldn’t have noticed if Villain hadn’t been directing them into it. 

The two sat in loud, breathy silence for a long time. Villain had an arm wrapped around Healer, and Healer clung to that arm like a lifeline. They didn’t understand what just happened. They were just helping people, weren’t they? How could that warrant a death sentence from a hero who was sworn to protect them? 

And with Hero’s strength, that strike would have been one. 

Healer didn’t know how long they waited, but at last, Villain let go of them and stepped out of their hiding spot, Healer not far behind. 

Finally getting a good look at Villain, Healer scanned them for injuries. Though they’d managed to close up the vital ones, Villain still looked worse for wear, bruises covering almost every inch of visible skin, and blood soaking through most of their suit. 

Villain stared at Healer, and Healer thought they saw a stern expression buried beneath the mask and mountain of bruises. 

“I... I can heal up the rest of your wounds for you,” Healer said. 

Villain shook their head. Healer wanted to protest, but as they stepped forward, their legs shook and their head spun. Even if Villain had accepted their offer, it was doubtful that Healer would have been able to follow through. 

Villain tapped their throat, drawing Healer’s attention, then mouthed something. Thank you. 

“No problem,” Healer said, their voice cracking a little. “Thank you, too, for getting me out of there.” For saving my life, Healer thought. 

Villain nodded and mouthed something else, but as much as Healer concentrated, they couldn’t decipher the meaning. Villain shook their head again, this time more so at themself than at Healer, and pulled out a small pocket notebook and a pen. They scribbled something down.

Where do you need to go? I’ll make sure you get there. 

“Oh, that’s alright. You don’t have to do that.” As much as they wanted to help heroes, villains, and civilians alike, they didn’t really need anyone to know where they lived. 

Villain stared at them. 

“You can go back to your home or base. I can make it back on my own.”

Villain’s eyes didn’t waver. 

“It... it’s in walking distance if you want to walk with me, but I can’t have anyone in full super gear near my home.” 

Villain nodded and pulled off their mask, right in front of Healer. Healer blanched at the utter disregard for secret identities. But they didn’t sense any ill will or ulterior motive, so they went behind a trash can and began changing into their own civilian clothes as Villain did the same. When they stepped back out, Villain made a point of not looking at Healer. Maybe they were trying to respect their identity, not that it would help much if Villain knew where they lived. 

Healer walked home and Villain trailed behind them like some sort of underworld bodyguard. Every time Healer glanced back, Villain was scanning their surroundings with an intense alertness. Healer couldn’t blame them, they were keeping an eye out for any sign of Hero, themself. The thought of them sent their stomach into somersaults. Yet, there was something comforting about Villain trailing behind them. 

Their anxiety mixed with guilt as they remembered Hero’s words. What did it say about them that a mass murderer trailing behind them was comforting. Wait, were they putting their mom in danger by letting Villain come with them? 

But it was too late to do anything about it, now. They were already on Healer’s block. “This is it,” they said, and Villain nodded. Healer noted that Villain still wasn’t looking at their face, their eyes instead pointed at the ground with occasional flickers towards the adjacent streets. “Thank you,” Healer said, with an awkward laugh. “I was really scared back there.”

Villain nodded again, and Healer started closing the distance to their apartment. The next time they turned around, Villain was gone. 

[beyscape]

The Intern - 1

Andy Barber x Reader

Summary: Being Andy’s intern meant you got to spend more time by his side more than anyone. This was fine, however, until feelings got in the way and made things complicated

Warnings: Age gap, technically cheating, swearing and stuff

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N Spoilers as it progresses! I’ve not read the book and only saw the first two episodes so if you haven’t seen episodes 1 and 2, what are you waiting for go watch them! I’m putting the reader around 26 and Andy around 40.

Chapter 1   Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4   Chapter 5

 02:37 am

You sighed at the clock, slightly feeling cheated that only 9 minutes had passed since you last checked it, when it felt like it should have been hours. Sipping at the now cold coffee you bought from the vending machine down the hall, you leaned back in your chair. You had been staring at the mountain of paper scattered around your desk for hours now, yet it didn’t seem like you were able to make a dent into it. It sat there, almost mocking you; you scowled at it.

The office was dark and empty, it had been for some time now as the last person had left sometime after the clock stroke 10 pm. Without the occasional whistling of the night guard patrolling the building, you seemed totally alone. Not just physically too, you felt like you had no one with you, supporting you. Your gaze drifted to the big desk left unoccupied behind the glass wall. Andy Barber, the plaque on the desk read, right next to the messy pen holder and another mountain of paperwork, almost identical to the one you had on your desk. Great, you thought, they could mock you both. Even the pile of paper had someone. You rubbed your eyes as even your thoughts stopped making much sense.

You were tired.

It had been two weeks now that Andy was forced to take a paid leave, following the arrest warrant for his son. Fourteen days. Then why the hell did it feel like fourteen months?

Being Andy’s intern was something you simply loved. You were excited and eager to do your job, straight out of a prestigious law school you had gotten such a good job, so of course you were fresh and happy to please your bosses and wanting to make a great career for yourself by learning from some of the very best. At least, that’s how it started almost a year ago. You had heard of Andy’s name, followed some of his cases as he was one of the best district attorney’s of the whole East Coast. The job wasn’t easy by any means, even though he was a kind man he would never go easy on you about your job. You liked that air of professionalism he carried around him though, it seemed as if he was good at everything he did.

He was incredibly smart, funny, kind, not to mention downright gorgeous, and he would always look at you with such emotion in his eyes that you couldn’t help but feel your heart jump a little every time he gave you one of his deep looks. So, it was an understatement to say you had a crush on him. It was impossible not to! That’s how you tried to comfort yourself in those late-night hours when you were up from tossing and turning and all you could think of was how his lips would taste on yours. It was just a simple, tiny crush that you couldn’t do anything about. Aside from obstacles such as the age gap between you and him technically being your boss there was also the matter of him being married. You had met his family on a couple of occasions, they had seemed like the perfect little American family. No matter how deep your feelings ran, you knew you couldn’t possibly be the reason for breaking apart a family.

It was just a tiny crush anyways.

Your mind drifted to Andy, how his once bright and sharp eyes now seemed tired and the bags forming under his eyes made him look older than he was. It was funny how two weeks can change a man’s life so drastically.

Defending Jacob wasn’t an easy job, what with so many in the office believing that he was responsible with the murder of Ben. You thought of Jacob, images of him visiting Andy in the office sometimes after school flashed in your mind, and how he would shyly smile at you when you offered him some candy or asked about his classes. You just didn’t think that a boy like him could be the murderer. You wanted to catch the actual murderer and put an end to this whole ordeal so that maybe, hopefully things would go back to normal. You had forgotten what normal even was in those two frantic weeks.

You didn’t need to pull such long hours at the office, in fact if Neil found out he would probably make a sly remark about it, but you wanted to. You wanted to catch a murderer and make sure a teenage boy didn’t go to prison over a crime he didn’t commit, but more than those you wanted to help Andy.

You thought of the times he would smile at you, thanking you for your hard work. “I have no idea what I would do without you, Y/N,” he had once said, the words still burning bright in your memory, “I can’t even remember how things were before you came in and started your internship.” His gaze was so intense at that point, his blue eyes so deep you thought you would drown in them if you stared for too long, his smile so relaxed and curved to the one side, his hands playing with the end of his tie he had loosened moments ago, he was everything you had ever wanted and some more. You had lowered your gaze back then, a bashful smile appearing on your heated face. Oh, how you wished you were back at that diner he had taken you out to celebrate after a long and tiresome case.

A sad smile played on your face as you reflected on the many memories you had made in the passing year, all of them equally leaving you flustered. You were so wrapped up in your thoughts however, you didn’t hear the footsteps approaching your part of the floor. Your head snapped as movement entered your peripheral vision, sending a dull ache down your neck sore from slumping over your desk for hours. It was too dark for you to see the face of the person approaching, but you knew him well enough to recognize him just from his silhouette.

Your mouth fell open ever so slightly, your heart picking up its speed as he made his way towards you. What was he doing here at three in the morning on a Tuesday night? He wasn’t even supposed to be allowed in the building! Despite these thoughts and many more swirling through your head, there was one main thought blaring in your mind: you missed him very much. You had seen him around town of course, but it was only here and there and in the passing. Neil had made it very clear that you weren’t to see Andy as “it would create a conflict of interest” he had claimed. You knew though deep down it was because Neil hated Andy’s guts and was probably happy to have him out of the office.

He finally walked close enough that the light of your desk lamp washed over his tired features, you noted the way his hair was a mess spiking up in different directions as if he had been tossing and turning restlessly in bed. He wasn’t wearing his usual work attire, those suits you loved seeing him in, and instead was in a pair of grey sweatpants and a simple hoodie on top. Your gaze shifted back to his face where surprise now gleamed in his eyes along with something else you couldn’t quite place.

“Y/N?” He said and momentarily all you could think of was how much you loved the way your name rolled off of his tongue.

“What are you doing here so late?” He asked as he stopped right in front of your desk, hands casually in his pockets. He didn’t need an answer however as his laid on the paperwork you had sitting in front of you, going page after page about him and more specifically his son’s involvement with the murder case.

“I see. That asshole Neal keeping you here all night? You look like you need some rest.” He remarked with a darkened, displeased look in his eyes. You shook your head, wanting to explain, to say so much, yet never finding the right words.

“I’m here because I want to, Neal has nothing to do with it. I wanna figure out a way to prove Jake’s innocence, to see if we maybe missed something. I don’t believe he did it.” You replied with a fierce passion, your words breaking the silence engulfing the whole building.

“That makes the two of us.” He smiled at that for a briefly, then seemed to catch himself. He frowned, almost feeling guilty for smiling. Your heart panged.

“How about you Mr. Barber? You really are not supposed to be here.”

“How many times have I told you to call me Andy? Kingston was at night shift, told him I forgot to grab some of my personal stuff I needed. And he let me in.” He scratched the back of his neck, slightly swaying on his heels.

“No offense but if Kingston’s just letting people in maybe he needs a little talk.” You teased him, wishing to see him smile once again. He didn’t, but you could easily read the amusement in his eyes. You had spent too long by his side, watching him, to miss those little things.

“You wanna take a walk? Clear your head a little. I know I need that.” He asked in response, surprising both you and himself.

“What about those personal stuff you needed to grab?” You shuffled on your feet to pull on your coat, hoping it would be enough to brace you against the chill of the night.

“Nah, I honestly didn’t know what to do or where to go, one thing I knew was I needed to get out of that house. Next thing I know, I’m in front of the building. Figured I’d try my chance at getting inside. But now that I’ve ran into you, my night’s a bit better.” He motioned towards the door with his head, his hair swaying slightly in the same direction, “Let’s go.”

The elevator ride and the couple of minutes it took to walk through the building was spent in silence aside from Kingston wishing you both a good night at the front security desk, as if you both didn’t know what to say or how to start a conversation. In that same silence you walked towards the park close to the tall grey building you had left moments ago, shivering against the cold of three a.m.

“So,” you started after minutes of silence, not being able to take it any longer, “do you wanna talk about it?” You hugged your arms around your body, tucking your already cold hands.

“It’s just,” he sighed and rolled his shoulders, almost as if trying to drop some of the weight he was carrying, “it’s crazy how fast everything went to shit. He didn’t do it, Y/N, I know my son. And they are ruining his life just like that. I can’t believe all of this and there is nothing I can do as I watch them ruin my son’s future so easily, just like that.” He rubbed his forehead, wishing for things to go back to normal, just as you. You both knew that normal was a long memory now, things could never go back to the way they were. Not entirely.

“I’m so sorry you are going through all this, Mr. Barber. Neither you nor Jake deserve this.” You let out a sigh matching his, desperately wanting to comfort the man who haunted every waking thought you had, yet finding yourself unable to as you glanced at the ring shining on his finger under the orange-ish street lights.

“How many times have I told you to call me Andy?” He turned his gaze to you now, you swallowed.

“More than I can remember the number of, Mr. Barber.” You gave him a cautious smile, unable to hold it in. Your heart swell with happiness as he snorted at your last remark, a soft look on his face as he took you in. You bit your lip before speaking again.

“How is Laurie?” You had to know. Damn your hands which ached to hold him, damn whatever may stand between you, you wanted to take action and do something as the urge, the need to close the distance between you got stronger and stronger. To do that, however, you had to know.

Andy flinched slightly at the mention of his wife, as if he didn’t expect for you to bring her up. Or like he even forgot that he had a wife. A bitter, short laugh escaped his lips as he ruefully examined the sliver band on his finger.

“Laurie is… Laurie. We are fighting again.” He raised his gaze to meet your eyes. You were caught off guard, you raised an eyebrow at the word ‘again’. He continued when you said nothing.

“We have been having some problems, we even had counselling a while ago. Laurie was always so keen about wanting to keep it quiet and locked away, and we tried it for Jake’s sake. Coming from a broken home type of situation, I wanted to try for Jake. These two weeks however, things have been really bad, on top of everything. This whole thing brought back a ton of unresolved bitterness from years ago. I never told anyone that.” He looked at you as if he was seeing you under a new light, his shoulders stood higher and more relaxed. A warm feeling spread in you as he confided in you things he never muttered to another soul, you smiled at him softly, his eyes drawing you in and spinning your head.

“I’m so sorry, Andy.” Was all you needed to say as you lay a delicate hand on his arm, the gentleness in your eyes surprising him and make him feel things he got the taste of so long ago.

One look at the hand you lay on his arm and another at your face, and Andy found himself to be in trouble. He already was, don’t get him wrong, his life seemed to be a magnet for all things bad and problematic at the moment. This, however, was a new kind of trouble as he looked at his intern, this young girl who had diligently followed him for a whole year and always seemed to know exactly what he needed. Before he knew what he was doing, he closed the distance between you with two small steps, and now was so close that you were too afraid to breathe, scared that even the smallest of moves would fully erase the very little gap left between your lips.

Despite your whole body feeling as if you were thrown into a scorching flame and every inch of your skin itching to get even closer, you waited, staring into his eyes with slightly raised eyebrows and hooded eyes. Your mouth was barely open and so was his, you were so close that every time he ruggedly breathed you felt his hot breath caress your lips.

“Fuck,” he whispered before giving in and closing the distance after a painful minute, placing those soft lips you had spent hours fantasizing about on yours. There was nothing gentle with his kiss, getting more and more heated and frantic as if he was a man needing cold water after spending his whole life walking around the desert.

You whimpered against his kiss as Andy’s one hand wrapped around your waist and the other finding your neck, pulling you towards him with no more distance to cover. You were so entangled with each other in the dark, it was hard to tell where one body ended and the other started. Placing one last, this time gentler kiss on your lips, he rested his head against your forehead, his eyes for closed as he breathed a deep breath.

“Oh Y/N,” he said, his voice strained and barely above a whisper, “what are we going to do, baby girl?”

You had no answer for him, a mess of emotions after the kiss that you felt your knees wouldn’t be able to hold you for much longer. So, you clung on Andy, his tense and broad shoulders feeling like they could carry you for as long as you needed, just as Andy’s hands clung on your waist, holding you close to his chest, his forehead still laying against yours.

In the park next to the towering building you both belonged to, you stood together some time after three. The chilly wind making its way into your lungs did nothing against the heat you felt all over your body, not cooling down one bit. In that park, in the safety of the shadows and the quiet of the town, you were safe. Not a defense attorney and his intern, just two people desperately needing to hold each other, too frightened to let go and face the world.

As the clock showed a little past 3 in the morning, you and Andy were safe in the dimly lit park, unaware how much that would change so very soon.

------------------------------------------------------

There you have it folks! I’m so so whipped for this man. Make sure to follow me so you don’t miss the other chapters! My inbox is open for requests, feedback or just to scream about Chris Evans! :P 

[itsclydebitches]

Ignore this if someone mentioned all this, but I feel an intense desire to bitch about V8's dead man bashing when I see it. Like, even before the plane, Ironwood told Clover to arrest Robyn if she interfered with their supply run, and he side-eyed Qrow and basically went "uh, yeah sure". You're tellin' me he'd go from "hesitant to arrest a thief even under direct orders" to "would bomb a city for no reason, actually"? Do not want. Leave the leaf alone and never mention him again CRWBY pls thx.

[Ray Holt meme voice] We've discussed this before and we'll discuss it again!

To add to this, RWBY's writing has a serious problem with retroactive knowledge. Meaning, info the characters get later is used to justify decisions made when they didn't have that information. When Robyn chats with Qrow and announces that he's the better huntsmen because he's doing "what's right," she's referencing everything that's happened since the air crash as well as what led up to it. Perhaps more importantly, her conversation banks on the audience's knowledge far more than her own. We know Ironwood shot Oscar, killed the councilman, helped hack Penny, has issued a bomb threat, etc. Robyn... knows none of this. She's been in the tundra and then in a jail cell, entirely ignorant of what's going on with the exception of Qrow's incredibly biased version of Clover's death. A declaration like this should clue the audience into the discrepancies here: "Hey, Robyn is talking nonsense because from her point of view Clover didn't do anything except try to follow the arrest warrant, she has no idea how bad Ironwood has gotten, and we know Qrow's recounting of the things she was unconscious for is... lacking." But instead, fans accepted these claims at face value because RWBY is a show where the writing doesn't distinguish - and the fandom also doesn't distinguish - between what characters know and when they know it. The idea that Clover would turn into a bomb-dropping villain is not only an unsubstantiated presumption, but it's built almost ENTIRELY on the audience's understanding of events, not Robyn's. Robyn essentially just goes, "Ironwood is a villain, so that means the guy who previously obeyed him was villainous too. You're the good guy, Qrow." The conversation banks on us, the viewer, filling in all of the "Ironwood is villain" gaps, supplemented with the knowledge that, yes, the other Ace Ops still chose to follow him for a time... ignoring that Clover is his own person who may have made different choices (like Marrow), that Robyn never learned why Qrow was under arrest in the first place, that she herself was never under arrest and only ended up in jail because she attacked first, that Qrow was found with Clover's body and blood on his sword but she apparently never worries about this like Harriet does, and that she's been sitting in a cell for the whole volume learning nothing and remaining ignorant to the fact that yes, Ironwood is actually that bad now. The fact that WE know Ironwood is a villain now doesn't justify Robyn's baseless assumption that he was last volume, or her ignorant assumptions that he is now. All Robyn should know at this point is that Salem arrived, Ironwood wanted to leave, Qrow was under arrest for some reason, she attacked first, got knocked out, was taken in with the guy who - according to all evidence present - killed Clover, and then just stews in her fury that she was arrested for... attacking Clover, resulting in an enemy escaping, a crashed airship, and his eventual death? Oh yeah, there's definitely no reason why she'd ever be taken in for that, and if Robyn had even a semblance of a decent personality she might have thought that through in her cell. Instead she functions as a mouthpiece for the story as a whole - look how evil Ironwood is, evil enough that anyone who ever believed in him would totally be evil too just not RWBYJNOR - rather than actually functioning as a character who reacts to the knowledge she does or does not have.

[five-rivers]

Long Night in the Valley Chapter 13

The car didn’t seem more crowded, but it was. Spinner had the dubious honor and privilege of being in one of Mr. Compress’s marbles, along with the doctor. Midoriya Inko sat in his recently vacated seat.

She was, without a single doubt, the most dangerous person in the vehicle. Mostly because she was completely insane. She had spent the first few minutes of driving detailing how she could blow up the car with her quirk and making sure that they knew she’d do it if she thought she had to.

What would make her think she ‘had to’ was a mystery Tomura didn’t particularly want solved.

He could totally see what Sensei saw in her, and he didn’t like it. He wished he could go back to ignorance. This questline was insane. The whole game was going to wind up broken. Had he killed an essential NPC at some point?

Eyeballs were small objects. So were most organs.

Midoriya Inko was someone Tomura could respect.

Would Midoriya Izuku be like this, if Tomura had an actual conversation with him? Their conversation at the mall hadn’t exactly been… normal. Tomura could admit he’d been using his intimidation skill to move the conversation along. Of course, Midoriya had struck him as a two-dimensional All Might fanboy at that point. Limited dialogue options. Killed in the next encounter. A hidden miniboss, yes, but just a miniboss. Not terribly important to the main campaign. Forgotten by disc two.

Clearly, he’d been wrong.

Which he shouldn’t have had mixed feelings about, but definitely did.

“Dear,” said Midoriya Inko, making everyone in the car stiffen, “do you have eczema?”

“The what?” asked Tomura, his tone too subdued to be considered snapping, because he wasn’t about to snap at someone who had convincingly demonstrated her ability to crush his organs against the inside of his abdominal cavity.

“Oh!” said Toga. “I know this one, Mom! It’s a skin condition.”

Tomura pulled his hand away from where it had been scratching at his neck. “I don’t have a skin condition. It just itches sometimes.”

Midoriya Inko nodded. “Yes, that sounds like eczema, I—” She stopped, blinking. “Did you just call me ‘Mom?’”

“Yeah, is that okay? Izu-kun and I are dating, after all!”

“No, she isn’t!” shouted Twice, the car swerving a little. “She is not! Only in her dreams!”

“Ah,” said Midoriya Inko. “I see. Well, I don’t mind you calling me that, but I think you really need to ask Izuku before you say that you’re dating. Make sure you’re on the same page, dear.”

Toga pouted.

“Now, where was I? Eczema. Izuku used to have eczema, but he grew out of it, mostly. I still carry some cream with me. Do you want some?”

Would refusing be dangerous?

Was the cream secretly poison?

Was this a complex scheme to get under his skin?

“Oh, Izuku mutters like that, too,” said Midoriya Inko, happily. “You remind me quite a bit of when he was going through his antisocial phase, actually. It would be funny if it turned out that you were related, wouldn’t it? Quite a coincidence, hm? One I’ll have to talk to my husband about.” The last sentence was as hard as diamonds and as poisonous as cyanide.

Tomura once again decided that he regretted everything.

.

“This is terrible,” whispered Tsuyu for the fifth or sixth time.

“Tres mal,” agreed Aoyama.

“Is it bad that I can completely believe All Might wrote this?” asked Satou.

“Why would it be bad?” asked Shouji.

“Because it’s so… bad.”

“And yet,” said Yaoyorozu, “oddly compelling.”

“Why does he use so much English?” grumbled Mineta.

“What a mad banquet of darkness,” said Fumikage, who was, nevertheless, also reading the fanfic on his phone.

“But, like, it makes it pretty obvious that All Might thinks the world of Midoriya,” said Kaminari. “Do you think he knew that other people could read this?”

“I mean,” said Jiro. “He had to, right? It wasn’t like he was born in the nineteen hundreds.”

“I don’t know, sometimes you’ve got to wonder. Like… sometimes it’s as if he was grown in a lab to be the perfect hero, you know?”

“Kaminari, stop trying to be Todoroki, please,” said Fumikage. “You do not need to dip yourself into the darkness.”

“I’m just saying,” said Kaminari. “And it isn’t as if we don’t know that there are a bunch of mad scientist types that would do just that, plus the Hero Commission is psychotic—”

“That’s unkind to psychotic people,” said Fumikage, glowering. “You know, most psychotic people never hurt anyone. The incidence of villainy among people who experience psychosis isn’t significantly higher than among the general population.”

“Sorry, man, just a figure of speech.”

The bus slowly came to a stop outside UA’s gates.

“My switch isn’t working,” said Green Light as he repeatedly pressed a button on his dash. “I guess they’re still on lockdown. We’ll have to wait for Nezu to come let us in.”

“Still?” asked Midnight. “Midoriya isn’t even in the city anymore, as far as we know.”

“Not that he was ever a threat to the school,” mumbled Present Mic, his quirk making him loud enough to be heard regardless.

Fumikage, having finished the fanfic some time ago, looked out the window and spotted two people in suits loitering near the gate. “Yamada-sensei, Kayama-sensei, who are those people?”

Everyone rushed over to Fumikage’s side of the bus to look out the window, rocking the vehicle.

“Ohh,” said Present Mic. “Yeah. That makes sense. Those guys are with the commission. Yep. Good ol’ Nezu, keeping them out.”

“Wait,” said Jiro, “does this mean we’re stuck out here, too?”

“No, no,” said Present Mic. “He’ll have to let us in… But then they’ll come in, too.”

“Midoriya’s room,” said Fumikage. “They’ll want to search it.”

“Can we do something?” asked Kouda, timidly.

“Should we do anything?” asked Tsuyu, bluntly. “We don’t want to incriminate Midoriya even more by making it look like he’s hiding things.”

Fumikage turned to Kaminari. “Anything new from Principal Nezu?”

“Why are you looking at me?”

“You’re the one he emailed last time.”

“Hey, Fumikage,” said Jiro, “do you think you can fly over the wall? Maybe you can get a head start on… well, whatever, I guess.”

“I don’t think we should do anything suspicious while they’re watching,” reiterated Tsuyu.

“Yeah, plus we really revamped campus security. And this is Nezu we’re talking about.”

“The Rat God,” someone whispered, reverently.

(Was that Shouji?)

“Exactly, exactly,” said Present Mic. “So, everyone, just, please, calm down. Just sit back down, and we’ll ride the bus to the dorms. Like normal.”

“Yamada-sensei, nothing about this is normal,” said Tsuyu, flatly.

“Well,” said Present Mic, “yeaaaah, okay, you got me there, listeners.”

“Nezu’s coming up,” said Green Light. “Aw, he has Eri with him. They’re so short together.”

“Green Light,” crackled the radio in Nezu’s voice. “Did you forget that I have cameras and microphones installed on all our buses?”

“That’s how he knew I was the one putting together the compilation!” said Kaminari.

Fumikage peered out the window and furtively opened it, so they could hear what was going on. Eri was definitely there. She was also sporting the deepest, most dismal, aura of darkness Fumikage had ever laid eyes on. Luckily, it seemed to be aimed at the commission lackeys in the form of a smile and dead, dead eyes.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen!” said Nezu, cheerily. “I apologize for the long wait! As Lunch Rush indubitably told you, we had a small emergency.”

“We’ve been out here for hours. What kind of emergency could have kept you for hours under these circumstances?”

Eri’s smile grew both broader and deader. “Me,” she said. “I’m the emergenny.”

“Emergency,” corrected Nezu, gently.

“Emergency,” repeated Eri.

“I’m sorry?” said the shorter of the two investigators.

“I’m the emergency. I hada—” she paused, and her face pinched slightly in concentration. “I had an emergency, because, because, you’re being mean to Deku.”

“We—”

“You’re mean,” insisted Eri. “You’re bad guys. Deku is the good guy, because he saved me. Only bad guys are mean to good guys.”

“Excuse me, is this Chisaki Eri?”

Eri hissed.

“Perhaps I could ask you to refrain from using that family name. We’ve been trying to get past what her form did to her, you understand. Teach her morality.”

“I’ll bite you,” said Eri, malevolently.

“Self-defense, as well,” continued Nezu. “It’s very important for children to be able to feel safe and confident in themselves, don’t you think? And the recent news dealt a serious blow to that. You understand, then why I felt that it was more important to take care of my ward and other students than to greet you here. Especially given that you wished to interview Eri-chan as well.”

“I’ll bite you,” repeated Eri. “A lot.”

“We’ll… need a look at Midoriya’s room, first.”

“Way to go, Eri,” whispered Shinsou.

“Very well! You’ll have to come around to the front office to fill out some paperwork. We’ll need a physical copy of your badges, as well as a copy of your warrant, for our records…”

The gate opened, distracting Fumikage from whatever else Nezu had said. Green Light quickly drove through, making straight to the dorms. Fumikage snapped the window shut.

“So, uh,” said Kaminari. “What’re we going to do about Midoriya’s All Might shrine of a room?”

“Should we even do anything?” asked Jiro. “If stuff is disturbed, that’s going to be suspicious. I don’t want to get him into more trouble.”

“It’s a teenage boy’s bedroom,” said Mineta. “The stuff in there is already disturbed.”

“Mineta, I don’t know how to tell you this,” said Kaminari, “but your experiences are not universal.”

“None of you are disturbing Midoriya’s room at all,” said Midnight, standing. “You didn’t forget that we were here, did you? If you say yes, we’ll have to take some time to work on your situational awareness~”

.

Nemuri hadn’t quite known what to expect from the words ‘All Might shrine.’ In her experiences, the word ‘shrine’ could, especially when applied to a person’s hobby or area of interest, could cover a vast array of displays of varying intensity.

But Midoriya really went Plus Ultra on everything, didn’t he?

“Okay, kiddos,” said Midnight, “what would you say was the most incriminating thing in this room?”

She and Present Mic were the only ones actually in the room, but the students were gathered right outside the door.

“Notebooks.”

Midnight nodded. They’d get those first, then search for other places Midoriya may have put evidence of less-than-entirely-morally-upright behavior. Not that Midnight really expected to find any.

“Where does he keep them?” she asked.

“He has a shelf above his desk he usually keeps them on, kero.”

Midnight looked at the shelf above Midoriya’s desk.

It looked back at her.

This was because it was a void. As in, void of any notebooks. An abyss of sorts. Empty.

There were no notebooks in evidence.

“This will be a problem.”

.

“G-Gigantomachia?” asked Izuku, turning up the sweetness in his tone despite his nerves. And pain. Yep, there was a whole lot of pain, everywhere. Now that he was no longer actively running for his life, it felt like he’d pulled every muscle in his body.

“Yes, Little Lord?” asked Gigantomachia, happily.

He was like a giant dog. Izuku almost felt bad tricking him like this, but he reminded himself that Gigantomachia was a giant, evil dog. So.

“Will you do something for me?”

“Of course, Little Lord!”

“Well,” said Izuku, “you remember how I said that Shigaraki Tomura and I don’t get along?”

“Yes, Little Lord! My memory is very good!”

Izuku blinked. “Is that a—” He cut himself off with a shake of his head. Not the time. “Well, I think that it might be a good idea if, ah, we established that he can’t attack me anymore.”

Gigantomachia stood up, shaking the earth and almost sending Izuku tumbling down. “HE ATTACKED YOU?”

Maybe this would be easier than he thought. “Yeah. A couple times. I’m okay, though!” He waved his hands. “I just think that it might be a good idea if we established a, uh, a pecking order. Sort of.”

“I’M GOING TO PECK HIM TO DEATH.”

“Please do not actually kill him.”

“I’M GOING TO PECK HIM MOSTLY TO DEATH.”

“That’s the spirit,” said Izuku.

“I’LL SHOW HIM YOU’RE IN CHARGE. YOU’RE MUCH BETTER THAN HE IS. MUCH MORE LIKE LORD.”

Wow. That was… certainly a statement. That Izuku was going to try his best to forget forever.

“Right. So. If you see him, do that,” said Izuku, nodding.

“OF COURSE, LITTLE LORD.”

“And, this is just a reminder, but don’t go into towns.”

“I WILL REMEMBER!”

“Great,” said Izuku. “I’m going to go back in and, uh…” He couldn’t say ‘plot my escape with Toshinori.’ “Rest,” he settled on.

“Oh!” Gigantomachia crouched down, his voice suddenly whisper-soft. Assuming rocks could be described as whispering. “Sleep well, Little Lord!”

“Thanks,” said Izuku, beating a hasty retreat.

.

“Stop the car!”

“But you said-!”

“Just stop the car, Twice.”

There was a not-at-all hidden ‘or else’ in those words. Twice, once again, stopped the car.

“Oh, my,” said Midoriya Inko, leaning forward. “That man up there looks remarkably like the sitter Hisashi hired for Izuku.”

“Oh, god,” said Tomura, dragging his hands down the sides of his face in lieu of looking out the window. “We aren’t prepared for this level.”

Midoriya Inko suddenly disappeared. Tomura made a noise in the back of his throat that wasn’t at all a scream.

Mr. Compress raised his hands defensively. “I thought it best to marble her while she was distracted. We wouldn’t want her to get injured in ”

“Wow! Way to go, Mr. Compress!” said Toga, giving the other villain a hug. “Good thinking!”

“Yeah!” agreed Twice. “Now she can’t hurt us—But she sure can when you let her out!”

“Which is why I propose we bring her to Giran at the first feasible opportunity. Between him and the doctor, I’m sure they can make arrangements for her that we need not be involved in. And I will make sure we are all far, far away when I let her out.”

There was a series of sighs of relief.

“Good idea,” croaked Tomura. “But what are we going to do about—” He swore vehemently. “He’s seen us, he’s seen us we’ve got aggro! Reverse!”

.

“Is that Vlad-sensei’s car?”

“Unfortunately,” said Toshinori, “I think it is. Oh, dear, the man’s one to hold a grudge. I think I’ll have a new nemesis by the end of this.”

.

Today had been a very annoying day in general for Vlad King, but for some reason, his sense of annoyance suddenly doubled. This made his hands clench and thereby tear the piece of paper he was holding.

Scratch that. His sense of annoyance had tripled.

“Yagi,” he muttered, “I am going to sue you so much.”

“What was that?” asked Hound Dog, looking away from the video feed displaying Eri-chan scarring Hero Commission agents for life in her undeniably cute way.

“Nothing,” muttered Vlad.

.

All for One paused in his assault of the vault door. He couldn’t help but feel like someone somewhere had said something unusually aggravating.

Ah, well. He had other things to worry about.

.

“Ah,” said Toshinori as one of Gigantomachia’s fists tore off the bumper of the rapidly reversing car. “Hm,” he continued as Shigaraki climbed out on the hood, grinning. “I think we should go, now.”

Izuku nodded. They could only hope to get far away enough away for Gigantomachia to be unable to hunt them down.

If they ran into any other problems…

.

Dabi paused as he heard quite a lot of noise from up ahead and rolled his eyes, ignoring how the movement pulled at his staples. The idiots had already started fighting Gigantomachia. Well. He didn’t want any part of that.

He changed directions. Hanging out in the woods it was, then.

Eh. It was good for him. Fresh (cold) air. Sunshine (sort of). Readily available reminders of why he hated his father.

Nature was great. If only he could burn it all down without blowing cover.

.

“Oh, no,” said a hapless technician.

“What?” asked the commission supervisor who’d brough the sample to the lab. “What is it? Is he related to the Scourge of Kamino?”

“Well,” squeaked the woman, her mousy ears twitching. “Yes. But I ran him through a few other databases as well, and…” she trailed off. “Well… The number of cross references in the hero database is staggering, but, of course, if he’s related to them, and to the other, well…”

The commission supervisor grabbed the edge of her monitor and twisted it around to face him. She watched the blood drain from his face and refrained from calling him out on his rudeness.

“Why,” he asked, “didn’t they run the Scourge of Kamino’s DNA through these databases?”

“I guess they didn’t think it was necessary?”

“Excuse me,” he said, “I have to make a few calls.”

.

“You want us to attack the League of Villains now?” asked Hawks, frowning. “You’ve had me following them around for weeks, and you want us to go in now, with next to no preparation? We don’t even know if the rest of the League is with Dabi.”

What had they found out from Midoriya’s blood sample? Had it turned out the way Dabi had expected.

Was Midoriya Izuku the son of All for One?

“Alright, alright,” he said in response to his handler. He sighed deeply, leaning back to better look at the sky. “But even I’m going to need a couple hours to get everything together and start coordinating with other heroes. I’m—Sir, I really don’t think I’m going to be able to take them all on just with myself and my sidekicks. Midoriya probably isn’t with them to begin with—I’m not questioning you, sir. I just don’t understand our objective in attacking them now. Why are we rushing? It seems counterpro—Yes, sir.” The line beeped loudly as it disconnected.

Well. All this had been a monumental waste of time.

It also boded ill for Midoriya. It sounded as if he’d become an even greater target than before, and considering that the commission had been labeling him a villain even before testing his DNA… Something bigger than being related to All for One must have come out. Something that had scared the commission. Something they would scrap their stealth- and intelligence-based plan for dealing with the League for. Something they wanted gone. Locked away with Midoriya.

Hawks couldn’t imagine what that could be. Maybe he was related to All Might? Or Endeavor? All Might wouldn’t be bad, he was never publicly in a relationship, but then he’d always been private about his personal life. But Endeavor… that’d be a scandal and a half.

But, if either of those were the case, why were they so sure he’d be with the League of Villains? It didn’t make sense. Unless… Unless Midoriya wasn’t the only one related to All for One.

At least they weren’t asking him to kill the kid. The mission was capture.

Which meant that Hawks had to come up with some way of letting an injured and probably exhausted teenager and a severely disabled old man escape without looking like he was letting them escape. Or looking like an incompetent idiot. Again. Because he wasn’t about to bring Midoriya in under circumstances this shady. Maybe before, when he thought it was just trumped-up kidnapping charges, but with this uncertainty…

Commission lackey or not, Hawks was still a hero. Sometimes that meant he put aside personal feelings for the good of society, and sometimes it meant that he ignored orders so a minor wouldn’t be indefinitely imprisoned at a commission black site.

Fun times.

He sighed and gathered in his feathers, angling down into a dive. Time to get to work.

.

Ochako kept seeing things out of the corners of her eye. Shadow in the shape of people, in the shape of children. Stains on the walls.

The hallways were scrupulously clean. Spotless. Empty. Brightly lit.

Todoroki had mentioned smelling smoke a few times and had started gagging for no reason once or twice. Iida kept twitching as if he had heard something. Aizawa appeared unaffected, but Ochako could see the way he gripped his capture weapon and the rigidness of his spine.

Izuku looked resigned.

“Did they really—” started Iida.

“Yes,” said Izuku. “Almost certainly.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Todoroki.

“You’re only getting fragments of Three’s memories, since she’s suppressing this,” said Izuku. “But…” He twitched, slightly. “It’s going to get worse the farther we go. The places she was in…” His voice was soft, sing-song, not quite entirely there.

“Izuku?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I’m focusing on something else outside.”

“Please tell me you aren’t fighting pro heroes again,” said Aizawa.

“No, I’m escaping from the League of Villains right now.”

“How?”

“Mm. Great question. I’ll tell you how it goes later, if it works.”

“That’s not what I—”

An ear-splitting, bone-chilling scream filled the air, making everyone flinch and clench. Something crackled overhead.

“Incident response team to hallway C. Code Blue.”

More screaming. This time, Ochako had a better idea of where it was coming from, and it seemed like everyone else, did, too.

They ran past classrooms that were alternately empty and full of shadow people, past soulless dormitory rooms stuffed with bunk beds, past cells and rooms Ochako didn’t even want to think about.

A pair of dark-skinned girls stood in the hallway, one holding a bloody hand to her throat, the other baring her teeth. The lights flickered. Dimmed.

The girls were gone by the time the lights came back on.

The hallway they were in was full of operating theaters, complete with lights over the door. Ochako felt sick.

But she was used to dealing with nausea. She took a deep breath and swallowed.

“What now?” she asked. The quaver in her voice was barely audible.

“Now…” Aizawa turned slowly in place. “We’re trying to find where they met Ryuji.”

“Two,” said Izuku, nodding.

“So, the most likely place for that…” He trailed off. “The most likely place for that is in the… residential areas.” He sounded disgusted with himself for referring to a prison with such bland terms.

“We passed something like that,” said Todoroki, quietly.

“Right,” said Aizawa. “Let’s go.”

.

The way back was much more… crowded. The memories were more tangible. Ochako quickly taught herself not to look in any of the rooms. Not that it helped much with what they saw in the halls themselves.

Izuku’s distraction only grew worse as they went further. He kept trying to follow, or sometimes fight, the memory ghosts.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Focusing on something else.”

“Just don’t die on us, problem child.”

“We’re doing okay,” said Izuku.

This was, of course, when the facility’s alarm went off.

“Intruder alert. Intruder alert. Intruder alert.”

.

Izuku couldn’t hear the sound of the fight between the League and Machia anymore. This meant that either the fighting had stopped, or they had moved out of earshot.

Despite the League having a car (Vlad-sensei’s car) Izuku doubted that the fight had gotten all that far away.

Next to him, Toshinori winced. Izuku looked at him with concern, but Toshinori waved it off.

Izuku took a shaky breath.

They just had to keep going.

.

Twice had, perhaps predictably, backed the car up into a ditch, where, despite the amount of pressure he put on the accelerator, it stayed. Stuck. Perhaps forever.

All members of the League of Villains that were not crazy enough to crawl onto the outside of a moving car to fight a homicidal giant climbed out. All members, meaning a single member. A single member, ironically, being Twice.

At least he hadn’t been going very fast when he ran into the ditch.

“Everyone okay? –Of course, they’re not! You were in a car crash, idiots!”

“Come help us fight!” ordered Shigaraki. “We were in the middle of something, you know, stupid level boss! Keep having to save scum I hate you aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”

Well, that wasn’t a good sign.

“Where’s Himiko?” he shouted.

“Over here, silly!” said the second Shigaraki, because, yeah. Twice had forgotten he hadn’t duplicated Shigaraki.

Man, he was dumb sometimes. It was great he had friends to help him with that!

He dove into the fight which, ever so slightly, ever so slowly, began to move away from the car.

.

Izuku’s head throbbed sharply, and he stumbled, Toshinori just managing to catch him before he faceplanted. Four and the other past users hissed at him from the back of his mind.

Someone’s coming. Hide.

They were in no condition for another fight.

Toshinori nodded sharply, and pulled Izuku aside, into some bushes. Izuku tried to breathe quietly but was painfully aware that both he and Toshinori were out of breath and raspy. Ragged. They’d been aiming for speed, not stealth, counting on the sounds of combat to cover them.

But if someone was out here—

Izuku smelled smoke. A branch snapped. He held his breath, despite the way his lungs longed for more oxygen. Had Dabi been in the car? Izuku hadn’t seen him. He hadn’t seen any blue fire. It wasn’t like Dabi to hold back.

A pair of black booted feet came into view.

“Well, well, what do we have here?”

.

They found Two standing in a hallway, surrounded by the bodies of soldiers. A small horde of shadow children clung to his legs.

When he laid eyes on Izuku, he sighed.

“Does the world ever give you a break?” he asked.

“Not that I’ve noticed,” said Izuku.

[fanfiction-inc]

If you are still doing the Ns/fw alphabet thing would I be able to request one of Higgs Monaghan?

Oh, but of course! Now I must apologize to you and everyone else for the delay! I have finally been able to finish up some things for college and have a slow period to get some stuff done! I hope you enjoy this!

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

It all depends on the relationship he is having with the one he’s fucking. If it’s a one night stand, he has no obligation to clean up the other party, much less show them kindness or deliver niceties on his way out. He simply will redress, and leave whoever they are. Something more than a fling, like a friends/enemies with benefits or standard relationship warrants far more sweetness from the terrorist. He’ll wipe you down, clean you up of any mess and offer the sweetest praises. Now this man, despite all the terrible shit he has done, is the sweetest pillow talker, holding you as if he’ll never see you again and reminding you of what you mean to him. He hardly has quality relationships, so having you as a friend (or enemy with benefits) or partner is what he values most.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite part is of course that damn silver tongue he uses to charm you like always and the mouth it resides in. Be it the nicest words you’ll ever hear or the filthiest, he savors how it makes you react. The stammering or stern and silent look away when you blush. The subtle press of thighs or move of an object to cover a ‘growing’ problem. He loves it all. He also loves what he can do with that mouth and tongue that could get you going. Licking along a hot shaft with kitten like flicks of his tongue, or along folds that hold the honey pot he wishes to steal from.

It doesn’t matter the shape, size, or prominence, but Higgs will always be an ass man. Be it cupping it, squeezing it, using it to get a rise or having his cock buried deep, he will always love a good ass. He tends to be more sexual with asses when his partner is male (or presenting male), often finding moments like those intimate in the guy category. The ass on a woman (or presenting woman) is often more for holding, especially for stability when his tongue is buried deep in them.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Anywhere. Literally fucking anywhere. You want it inside you? Done! Want it down your throat? He’ll go right ahead! Want it covering your face or body? He’ll do his damnedest! He loves the sensation of filling you, but fucking hell does he love how it looks on your body and how it decorates you. Of course he finds humor if it gets in your hair or misses you from a wrong angle, but that’s the playfulness in him talking.

Now him taking any form of cum? That’s a different story. He is absolutely okay with cum inside him or down his throat, but he despises spitting it out or having it leak from him. It’s an intimate act to take such from his partner, so he’ll practically beg for it as long as you’re willing to give it!

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

This Particle of God who permeates all existence is by simple definition, a slut. Now, I say slut with all the love I have for him in the world, but it is quite true. Higgs is by far the biggest example of ‘switch’ energy. He wants to be used like a toy, wants to be used for the sake of giving others pleasure. Tie him up, decorate him in leather. Give him a few healthy smacks to the ass, but just know if he’s the dominating force in the relationship, he may never admit such. It’s something he prefers to keep to himself until he finds the perfect partner to open up to about it, so it remains his dirty secret.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Higgs has had some good flings in his time, allowing experience with both men and women alike and giving him a rather good sense of what he’s doing. He’s learned just what his tongue can do, how his words can make the body react. And when he rolls his hips just the right way, oh, he gets the idea and knows how to manipulate it.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Oh, he could never start off without without a good bit of foreplay. Typically with any partner, Higgs prefers a good bit of face sitting or ‘69’ play, though his main objective is to focus on his partner's pleasure. Anything he can do to get his partner off first, he will attempt to do.

When it comes to his partners, the positions vary. Up against a wall, he’d have their legs wrapped around him and fucking up into them. Don’t forget the wandering fingers to a sensitive clit or hand to a weeping dick. Laying down, it’s a toss up between missionary or spooning. Missionary is often used when he wants to keep his gaze locked with his partner's own, where as spooning is for those moments where he wants to hold his partner close. When he’s spooning, this can be for intimacy purposes where he goes slow and deep, keeping the moment drawn on to savor you or your body. But in other times, it’s the moment to jackhammer his hips into you until you’re a shaking mess. On your knees, and he has you in doggy. This position is also used more often for flings where no eye contact has to be made and is quick enough to be over and done with.

Now for himself, especially if it’s with a male/male presenting partner or during an intense pegging session, he’ll be begging for a form of missionary. He much prefers holding his legs up towards himself so his bum is presented to his partner. If you include a nice hand job while fucking him, then he’s done for in that position.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

This man is not only a switch in the dom/sub realm, but he also is in the serious/humorous realm as well. Higgs is often very humorous when it comes to sex, finding ways to make it fun and carefree. He’ll crack jokes, chuckle if something doesn’t go quite right, but above all, he’ll find it fucking hilarious if you joke back. Playful banter is all part of the fun, but sometimes the moment deserves some serious focuses. If his partner is ever down on themselves or their bodies, he’s serious in the moment. He will make fucking sure that they know what they do to him, but also how beautiful/handsome their body is. All encouragement and softness, but lacking the humorous tone. Then, there is the time were the two collide, where pleasure is the main goal.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Grooming isn’t usually a big concern to him, but he does do it here or there. Just like the stubble that grows on his chin, he sometimes just lets it go until it’s so long and thick that it must be taken care of, just like the onsets of a beard. The color is just as dark as his hair, but a little curled as compared to the well kept nature of his hair on top of his head.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

It truly depends on the partner. If this is a one night stand, Higgs won’t hesitate to call it a quick fuck and move on. He’s not going to give his attention or devotion to a person who doesn’t deserve the full on ‘Higgs Monaghan experience’, but if he feels it may be going somewhere, then expect some kisses or sweet words. Maybe even expect a bit of his strong façade to slip in the process.

Now, if you’re his friend/enemy with benefits, or his partner, then here comes the fucking romance train. Sweet, lingering kisses. Gentle brushes along one's skin followed by an unlimited amount of devotion and praise. He will worship the very ground you walk on as long as he gets a piece of you in some way, shape, or aspect. His love will show in every act, even if it’s a quickie or just a straight up fucking session. He may not be too brash, but his reminders will come at a constant, mixed in with lewd conversation and grunted notions.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Being in his clothes, be it his mask or just his cloak, is the best material he can go to for jacking off. Be it imagining you on your back, hands going to work on whatever gets you off while the fabric bunches beneath you, or the idea of you being in control, being ‘him’. Fuck, does it get his mind going and hand going even faster. The easiest thing to do in those moments is to call you up for some straight up dirty talk. If he’s going to be going after release, he wants you to do the same too (or tease the hell out of you until you’re on the brim and need him, because the cocky bastard loves that shit.)

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

BDSM (Bondage, Masochism, and Sadism mostly), Breath Play, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, Face Sitting (partner and him), Impact Play, Knife/Weapon Play, Odaxelagnia, Orgasm Denial/ Control, Pegging/Anal, Praise Kink, Strap-on Play (to him), Teasing, Voyeurism, and Worship Kink.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

ANYWHERE. Literally fucking anywhere. He will do it at the Homo Demens base camp, right outside of a Bridges delivery location, or even in the middle of timefall (of course with proper coverage. He would never want you to get hurt by the timefall, nor the BT’s, but it does make it interesting to see how quiet you can stay when they begin to move about. It’s always with an underlying sense of danger or excitement of getting caught that fuels him. But this doesn't stop him when it comes to being home.

When with the Homo Demens, his room at base camp is an often place as well as the community showers. The bunker of Peter Englert, though smaller than a whole base, offers many places as well. These stationary places are his favorite for privacy and intimacy.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Your body, no matter what, is always an automatic turn on. Especially if there is exposed skin involved that he can hold onto or kiss at. He is a total ass man, always loving to grab at it or just keep his hand there when talking. Your ass, watching it as you walk or beneath him sends blood rushing down below and he may as well cum in his pants at this rate because holy fuck, is that ass perfection. He will worship that ass, constantly wanting to caress it or have a handful if you’re on his lap. Your hands are the next thing. Be them wrapped around his cock, grabbing at the sheets beneath you, or simply cupping his cheek in the afterglow, your hands are always the sweetest thing because they can do so many things that can make him fall apart at the seams.

What REALLY gets him going is being taken care of. Higgs is touch starved all to hell, and when he gets any sign of affection or sweetness from you, be it cuddling or kind words, he feels like he’s floating on a damn cloud. When he is being submissive, or is the bottom in the relationship, It’s especially a turn on when being taken care of leads to praise in the bedroom.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He will ABSOLUTELY refuse to involve any form of piss or scat in your play. It is an automatic turn off and he may as well be the cause of another voidout just from the mere recommendation of it. He can’t stand the idea of it. Higgs is into a lot of things, but those two will never fall under his category of things that get him going and needy.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

BOTH! BOTH! BOTH! He is an absolute lover of giving and receiving oral! And he isn’t too shabby at it once he gets used to how your body reacts.

When it comes to giving oral, he goes between a mixture of teasing and driving you mad with that damn tongue. Depending on the relationship you share with him, he either dives right in or takes his time with it. If he wants to, he’ll map out your sex, taking in how hard/wet you are, finding what bits make you mewl the loudest or give him the desired effect. He’ll go slow with his tongue, dragging it until you’re trying to get your cock either inside his mouth or his tongue on your clit (either way, he’ll leave you squirming). When he finally gives you what you want, being lavishing your core or sucking you off, he’s at it and he will go until you’re trembling and begging for no more, to which he’ll get one or more out of you just to prove the point that he can.

When it comes to receiving, he is always down for such, but he is more likely to be down for it if he's the submissive partner in the relationship. He would rather worship and tease when in a dominant position. Taking care of you is the best thing in his mind. But being taken care of? Now that is what drives him absolutely wild. He is sensitive when it comes to the tip of his cock being played with, and will fall apart if it's played with.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

It really depends on his mood. If he is wanting to be in a kind and sweet mood, he’s slow and passionate, He’ll take his time to make sure you feel nice and good. Keeping eye contact and sweet praising as he takes you, gentle kisses followed by accented thrust that go just deep enough but not too fast to make it fucking. No, that in his mind is perfect for something he isn’t used to, which is love making. If it needs to be quick, or in his mind it’s a sexual punishment, he will be rougher, or faster with you. He’ll fuck you raw and leave you a mess. Either way you’ll be a mess when you’re with Higgs.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He usually has more time for quickies, as he is the entity trying to bring on the next mass human extinction. Of course he loves a good session of proper sex, being able to take his time with you or give you a chance to properly take him. But sometimes those are short lived moments, interrupted halfway through or being stopped before being able to bask in the afterglow because he has to leave. Duty calls, after all. His favorite places for them are generally at the Homo Demens camp, or on the go in some risky area that could accidentally get you guys caught.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

This fucker practically screams risk. Be it public excursions or a new tactic in the bedroom, he’s game. If you want to try something a little more dangerous with him, or something far more kinky then you two already do, he is down. He will always give you a chance to try things with him, and sometimes he’ll see what he can do to help expand your comfort zones by suggesting new situations or experiences. Maybe trying more intensive bondage would be the step up he would try with you from the light bondage you two may already do. Maybe he wants you to try choking him, or maybe YOU want to try choking him. Either way, he is always up for experimentation.

This man, being the exhibitionist he is, is obsessed with the thrill of potentially or actually being caught in the act. It’s something that he would GLADLY introduce you to if he had the chance, wanting that to be the first big experiment if you aren’t already into it. Now mind you, he will respect (generally) your boundaries on most things, but this is one thing that absolutely screams fun in his mind, and it’s so damn risky because you never know who is gonna see!

“Oops, didn’t see ya there Sammy! We’ll just finish up here.”

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

It really depends on the play and the partner. Higgs is a man who can go perhaps three or four rounds at the most, having stamina like a beast if he’s really hyped up for it. Usually this happens when he is in the domineering position, having full control over himself, and whatever control you’ll allow over you, be it full or less than full control.

When he is the bottom, taking whatever is being given to him, he’ll last two rounds at the most because let's face it, Higgs can become overstimulated quickly if the right touches and praises are given. Use the right sensation or hammer down on him when you fuck, and he’ll be a puddle of incoherent speech and needy rambling. Now this doesn't mean you can’t get more out of him, but he’ll be less likely to be as coherent as if he is in full control of the situation.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Oh he most certainly owns them, and he most certainly uses them when he wants to. He’s the kind of guy that if he doesn’t have a partner close by, and he wants to spice up a dirty call or get himself off quicker than he can with his hand, toys are the way to go. Be it dildos, vibrators, anything of the likes, he uses them and he will gladly use them on you or let you use them on him.

He doesn’t usually like using toys in every session, though. Sometimes feeling skin instead of whatever material the toy is is sooooo much better to him because he issued you and he wants to fuck properly. Now if you’re a person who requires the extra stimulation from a toy while you’re enjoying each other, then by all means, he’ll incorporate it somehow so that you get exactly what you need. Some people just need that extra push, and he is happy to supply!

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Excuse me, have you met this man? He is the ultimate tease! Especially publicly. He loves to get you hot and bothered or embarrassed and riled up when he’s around. Sinfully delicious comments against your ear or tracing motions through your clothes until you’re needy and he leaves you like that until you’re alone. In the bedroom, he will do whatever it takes to have his partner either be a begging mess or be so fed up with him that he gets exactly what he wants.

For a submissive partner, he likes to use his tongue the most to tease. Trailing along your chest, or over sensitive nipples. Light flicks to extra sensitive areas below the belt, be it the tip or sweet spot on a cock or the bundle of nerves between a woman's legs. Light kisses or nips to the inner thighs just to get you squirming, that man will do so until you get a bite to your voice or just needy enough to give you what you want. Then again, sometimes he likes the torture of continuing the teasing until you’re vision is blurry with tears and you can’t utter any other word than ‘please’.

With dominant partners, he will make every move or command he gets into a tease. Taking his clothing off too slowly, tracing his tongue too long or not putting enough pressure. Sometimes his kisses will pull away too quickly as to tease you. But that teasing is gone the moment you put him in his place, then he is the most compliant creature ever.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make

He is like a fucking air raid siren when he’s being taken, but his volume isn’t nearly as when he’s doing the taking over having someone on top of him in the form of riding. He’ll moan, that is for sure, but the most common noises are the high pitched hitches in his breathing or the grunts that come when he’s pistoning his hips to bring you over the edge. He may give a growl if the fucking is more aggressive, or he may release and airy chuckle from time to time if you two are having more fun than seriousness.

W = Wild Card (Random Headcanon)

He is more than happy to dress in some kind of outfit for your sexual encounters. Be it a Bridges outfit because he knows you get off from him playing as the unknown stranger at Bridges, Peter Englert, or a Fragile uniform because fuck do you love leather, he’s down. He’ll happily wear panties if you like him in feminine undergarments, happily dress with cock cages and leather straps if you want to see him in such. He’ll even stay in the mask if you ask, but when it comes to dressing up, he isn’t limited to dressing himself. He absolutely adores when you wear his mask, or wearing his cloak to cover your nude form.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

He may not be the longest or the girthiest, but Higgs has a nice package. He’s about six inches long when fully erect, so about average (in American standards). He can go from well trimmed to near unmanageable depending on his mood, and also the partner. Some prefer hairless, some don’t mind the all natural look.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Pfft. Have you met this needy man? I mean seriously? He is OBSESSED with sex. Borderline nymphomaniac if you must, Higgs is constantly down for a good time as long as he has time. His big plans for the end of existence come first, but he will gladly give you his all or take whatever is given as long as he gets to enjoy it. He may ask for company more often than once a day given the day, or sometimes he’ll wait till it’s a time restrained time for you and get as much as he can until you just HAVE to do whatever it is you do. He can wait, but it only gets him more hyped for whatever will happen next, and sometimes it’s torture to him with waiting too long.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Out like a fucking lightbulb. He may stay up for a few for some aftercare either giving or receiving, maybe even some light banter, but generally he’s so worn out that he is O.U.T out! That doesn’t mean he wouldn’t like to stay up and chat the night away. Sometimes he does, sometimes he falls asleep like a light sleeping rock, and other times he’s having to redress to start whatever is next in his grand plan.

[thevioletjones]

48. “You make me want things I can’t have.” 💜

Thanks for the inspiration! 💜

Prompt 3

Buffer

Ian Gallagher was starting to become a problem.

And the worst part about it was that he wasn’t even a problem that Mickey wanted to resolve. No. He just kept holding Ian closer and refusing to push him away like he should. He was just letting him ruin Mickey’s mediocre life. Because something about Ian was unshakeable. It wasn’t just that Ian kept coming back no matter what Mickey ever said or did, either. Ian was definitely persistent, but Mickey had formed an attachment too, even though he did everything in his power to hide it. It was still there, buried under layers of caustic remarks, aloof expressions, and occasional lashing out. He wasn’t proud of his behavior, but it was just who he was, and remaining unchanged in his ways was easier than the alternative.

Ian was definitely too good for him. Sure, he was hood trash too, but they were on two different levels. Ian was buffed up with a certain surface shine that Mickey lacked. Although, he would admit he’d come a long way in his style and hygiene game since his early days as an unwashed miscreant. Mickey was a gay man after all, and not immune to gaying certain things up, despite his tendency to flout homo conventions. If he wanted the ability to get a decent dick in his ass, there were standards that he’d learned to push himself to meet. This was the glossiest Mickey was ever gonna get, and it still came with a pinch of grime and hostility.

Maybe he’d developed enough sense to give a fuck, but he still didn’t give two shits either; a concept that walking contradictions the world over could likely comprehend.

The thing about Gallagher was that he was sweet. Not in an annoying, cloying, obvious way that was anathema to everything Mickey was about, but in a low-key, casual, incidental kind of way that somehow managed to be attractive, even to someone with Mickey’s abrasive nature. Ian played tough, and he genuinely was in many ways, but he had a gooey, marshmallow center that evened him out. Mickey didn’t see himself as having that sort of balance.

But there were these unsettling moments like this, usually in the middle of the night or early in the morning, when Mickey would catch himself watching Ian unawares. Unawares because he only ever did it when the redhead was deep in sleep. Suddenly, Mickey would be Mr. Contemplation, burning a hole into the face of the dude he was banging, daring to wonder what could happen between them if he wasn’t an emotionally stunted asshole. And then he’d reflect on what Ian’s life was like whenever he wasn’t around; the things Mickey acted like he didn’t care to know.

These circular thought patterns never led anywhere good, because at the end of the day, Ian wasn’t his. And Mickey could never be Ian’s. He’d long ago resigned himself to a certain destiny that involved long-term solitude until his dying day, which he’d always been fairly certain would come prematurely and most likely in violent fashion. It would be ridiculous to drag someone else into his vortex of apathy for life and the general traditions of living it. Especially someone like Ian, who was good; who helped people because he genuinely cared about, like, the well-being of humanity and shit. Despite the occasional soft look or revelatory comment that Ian would throw his way, he knew better than to think he’d want to be saddled with Mickey’s non-reciprocating ogre-y ass.

Usually when one of these intense, one-sided staring sessions would take place, Mickey would overcompensate for silently slipping by adding an extra dose of rudeness when he kicked Ian out after the fact. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure why Gallagher still bothered with him. It wasn’t like he couldn’t get laid elsewhere. Ian was the type that would never have trouble finding a willing ass. Yet somehow he kept coming back to Mickey and ignoring all the negatives thrown in his path. It didn’t make much sense on either of their parts… allowing each other in on any terms. Probably meant that Ian was just as fucked up as he was, really.

Blowing out the last hit off his smoke, Mickey glanced at the bedside clock and stubbed out the cigarette butt. 3:26 AM and he was wide awake, just gawking at his slumbering ginger fuck buddy, and trying to repress the multitude of emotions swirling within him. It was truly pathetic.

He could just get the hell up and drag his ass to the living room to play video games or watch late-night TV, but no. Apparently he liked suffering and feeling conflicted. What a pussy.

Not ten minutes went by before there was slow movement from the other side of the bed... Ian turning over in his sleep, reaching an arm out, and searching. Searching for the warmth of Mickey’s body, it would seem.

A big hand landed on his thigh, rubbing it softly as tired eyes blinked open, and a groggy voice sounded, “What’re’y’doin’?”

Oh, just fuckin’ lying here starin’ at your pasty ass for some reason. “Can’t sleep.”

“Didn’t wear you out?” Ian asked with a breathy titter, squeezing the sensitive flesh precariously close to Mickey’s groin.

Maybe it made his dick twitch a little.

“When did one round ever wear me out?”

“Pretty sure there were two rounds. Did you forget about the couch?”

“Random handies while watchin’ mediocre porn barely counts as a round, carrot-top.”

“A, it wasn’t that mediocre, and B, do you only consider it sex if penetration is involved?”

“I mean… it helps.”

“What about blowjobs, then? How would you classify them?”

“Sex act, but not sex, sex. Know what I mean?”

Ian laughed. “Not really. What about lesbians?”

“Definitely don’t wanna have my cock anywhere near those.”

“Har har. I mean, what would you call lesbian sex?”

“Gross? Boring? I don’t fuckin’ know. Never had it, don’t plan to.”

Ian laughed harder and it made Mickey feel good. “Pretty sure lesbians don’t want fuck all to do with you either, bottom boy.”

“Hey, likin’ what I like don’t make me a bitch.”

“No, but you seem pretty hostile toward anything but a real live human cock poking you in the asshole. I mean, naysaying getting your dick sucked? That’s a bold bossy bottom stance to take.”

“What can I say? I’m a simple man with simple kinks. Aren’t you glad I don’t need any freaky extra shit to get me off?”

“What kinda freaky extras are we talkin’?”

“Fuck off, Gallagher. Don’t act like you don’t just live for stickin’ that big red dick inside any tight manhole that’ll accommodate it. Does that make you a hungry top just begging for it?”

“I prefer ‘brutal top,’ since it’s so big, as you were so kind to mention.”

Mickey rolled his eyes into tomorrow. “Gotta remember to stop accidentally complimenting it. You get so fuckin’ uppity about it.”

Ian rolled over and boxed him in, nuzzling around his face and neck, while Mickey tried to bat him away.

“Come on,” prodded Ian. “Big hard cock seeks tight little hole for another round of deep penetration.”

Mickey could feel said big hard cock firming right up against his hip. “Ixnay on the cutesy man seeking man dirty talk, fuckhead. I will make you take that hulking boner elsewhere.”

“No you won’t,” Ian replied, humping down against him.

Of course he wouldn’t, but he had to front at least a little bit. That was the nature of his inner beast.

While they were fucking, Mickey could just let himself get lost in all the appropriate heightened sensations that really good sex immersed him in. Immersed him and Ian in. Ian and him. Them. Reveling in the pleasure of carnality was totally kosher… as long as it limited him from basking in that additional Ian stuff. That feelings stuff that he had no idea what to do with. That unfathomable connection that existed between them.

He let Ian kiss him a lot too. Like, a lot, a lot. That wasn’t customary for him with other dudes. In fact, it barely ever happened. It was just another habit Ian had slipped under the wire to form with him when he wasn’t paying enough attention. Mickey was pretty sure he’d kissed more girls in his life than boys, because that was always an easy, less disgusting way to publicly appear straight during the years he’d spent in the closet. With guys, there was nothing to prove and everything to hide, so it just wasn’t something he incorporated into his casual sex routine.

Before Ian, he hadn’t exactly attracted the kind of dudes that warranted sticking around for in any capacity, or who made any kind of effort to stick with him. There were never any near-miss boyfriends, or pine-worthy hookups. Sex was always transactional and he’d been perfectly fine with that arrangement.

The truth was that once he’d fucked up and invited Ian in for repeats over and over again, he started to figure out that the sex just kept getting hotter and hotter. That when two bodies really took the time to get to know each other, things fit better, motions got smoother, and orgasms got a thousand times stronger. Turned out that one-night-stands were not where the fuck it was at. Those were always crapshoots with odds that were at best 25/75 in favor of mediocrity. With Ian, it was guaranteed total fulfillment 100% of the time.

That was the only explanation he could find for this unexpected addiction he was stuck with. An addiction to Ian and his stupidly perfect cock. The rest of his body was alright too. And when he spoke, he wasn’t completely fucking annoying. His personality and his nature were tolerable. Mickey didn’t want to gouge his eyes out every time he got sucked into a conversation.

They didn’t really hang out, though. Outside of the bedroom, that is. It was like the whole game changed when they were in bed. They could fuck, they could goof around and have a laugh, they could wrestle, they could accidentally say something profound once in a while… but if Ian had a bag of food when he dropped by, Mickey wasn’t about to sit on the couch and watch TV with him while he ate it, and he definitely wasn’t going to accept a portion for himself.

Until tonight, that is. Or last night, or however the fuck time was identified when you were a natural night owl.

Tonight, they’d crossed another invisible line in the sand, and Mickey had found himself chowing down on tacos, while heckling some shitty 90s action film; his part-time lover chuckling next to him with a sloppy mouth.

It was fucking terrifying.

So as soon as he’d realized what was actually happening, and how much he didn’t hate it, Mickey had switched over to some hardcore porn. They’d cracked jokes about it at first, but it’d done the trick of quickly leading to the familiar comfort of sexual gratification. With that justification, Mickey could just sweep the whole ‘watching a movie and eating together like they were on a date’ thing under the proverbial rug without further examination.

At least until Ian had fallen asleep around 2 AM. Then it was dwell city.

By 4:30 AM, Ian had fucked him into the mattress once again, and promptly fallen back asleep without a care in the world. Mickey was more than sated, but felt even more awake than he had an hour ago, his brain full of fresh bullshit about the man next to him and what was happening between them.

He opened his bedside drawer and pulled out his stash, knowing the high would fog up his brain enough to go off on thought tangents, and eventually shut down for at least five hours. Within ten minutes, he felt a little better, or at least more distracted. He was still very aware of Ian’s looming presence in the darkness, though. He wanted to be comforted by it, but he just couldn’t relax.

There’d always been a buffer between them, which Mickey had been diligent in maintaining, and he could see it slowly falling away now. If he didn’t step up and push back, pretty soon there’d be no barrier left standing. Who the fuck knew what could happen then.

He hated it. He felt so fucking out of control, when it should be the easiest thing in the world to control. All he had to do was break it off. He knew exactly what to say and do to make that happen. Knew enough to be able to really hit Ian where it hurt, both literally and figuratively.

But goddamn it, he didn’t want to.

He didn’t want to make Ian sad, and he didn’t want to give into his own desire to try for more. He would always fuck it up, because he was a fuck-up by nature. His goddamn knuckles spelled it all out in block letters.

He wanted Ian, but he didn’t want the responsibility. Didn’t trust himself, because no one had ever trusted him before in his entire life. What kind of dumbass wanted that kind of damaged douchebag for a boyfriend? No sane one.

Against his better judgment, Mickey rolled closer to Ian and wrapped an arm around his middle, spooning him the way he secretly liked it when Ian spooned him. He held him close and breathed in his scent.

“You make me want things I can’t have,” he murmured to himself, exhaling heavily against Ian’s neck.

He fell asleep swiftly, and in the morning, he didn’t ask Ian to leave.

[northernindigenousbeautyhailey]

Stories of the Unsolved

17 years ago since The Disappearance of TAMRA KEEPNESS from the White Bear First Nations in

🇨🇦Canada🇨🇦

Stories of the Unsolved Stories of the Unsolved

years ago

EARLY LIFE:

Tamra Keepness and her twin sister, Tannis, were born on September 1, 1998 to parents Lorena and Troy Keepness. The family were from White Bear First Nation, located in the southeastern portion of Saskatchewan Canada, and resided in Regina.

Shortly after the twins were born, Lorena and Troy separated, resulting in the two girls splitting their time between their parents. The majority of the time, they lived with Lorena, her live-in partner, Dean McArthur, and their three siblings near downtown Regina, at 1843 Ottawa Street. The neighbourhood was known to have issues, particularly regarding poverty and other social problems.

It was no secret that the adults in Tamra’s life struggled with alcohol and substance abuse issues. Dean, specifically, had served two months of a three-month sentence for assaulting Lorena while in a drunken rage. Due to these issues, as well as reports of child neglect, Social Services were often involved with the family, with a total of 50 reports made to crisis workers.

Despite what some might call an unsteady home life, Tamra was a smart and caring girl. She fiercely loved her siblings, especially Tannis, and she frequently had a huge smile on her face. She was also known for being feisty and a bit mischievous, and she was always on the lookout for adventure. When not playing Mario Kart on Nintendo, she could be found climbing her favourite pine tree at the end of the block.

LEAD UP TO DISAPPEARANCE:

On the evening of July 5, 2004, Lorena, Dean and all five children were in the living room watching television. At some point, Lorena and Dean got into an argument, which they claim was about nothing serious. At around 8:30pm, Dean decided to leave the house to cool down. While out, he ran into Russell Sheepskin, a man who sometimes resided in the family’s basement, and the pair decided to grab a few drinks together. Before heading to the St. Regis Hotel, Dean made a stop at a nearby 7-11 to buy some milk for his and Lorena’s newborn baby, which he later dropped off at the house.

Lorena spent the majority of the evening with her children. Between 10:30pm and 11:00pm, she sent them to bed and decided to head to a friend’s townhouse located a block over, leaving her eldest, 11-year-old Summer, in charge. After a while, she and her friend went out to purchase more alcohol and Lorena stopped by the house to check on things. When she returned to her friend’s residence, she called Summer and told her to ring if she needed anything.

At 12:00am on July 6, Russell returned to the house, incredibly drunk. He made himself some food and checked on the children. He recalls seeing some of them, including Tamra, sleeping in the living room, meaning they must have come downstairs after Lorena put them to bed. A couple of hours later, Russell was smoking a cigarette on the front porch when he encountered Dean. The pair got into a physical altercation, resulting in Dean punching Russell and stomping on his head. Injured, Russell went to the hospital to get stitches. He claims he didn’t lock the front door before leaving.

According to Dean, after the fight he decided to walk to his aunt’s house, where he planned to spend the night. However, he ended up getting lost, so he didn’t end up arriving until two hours later, sometime between 5:00am and 5:30am. Police reports claim no one saw him during this time.

At around 3:00am, Lorena returned to the house to find all the doors locked. As such, she entered the home through a window. She was drunk at the time and doesn’t quite remember if she saw her children asleep in the living room. However, she has stated that she recalls seeing Tannis and Summer before she herself fell asleep on the couch.

DISAPPERANCE:

At some point on the morning on July 6, Tamra’s older brother, Raine, felt her leave the bed they shared. While he doesn’t remember the exact time, he does recall it was starting to get light out.

At 9:00am, Tamra’s grandmother came by for a visit and saw Lorena nursing a hangover. This is around the time Lorena herself awoke, as she had to open the door for her mother. Shortly after this, Summer and Raine left the house to attend a day camp at a nearby community centre.

Tamra was first discovered missing when she didn’t come down for breakfast. Lorena had told one of the children to go wake her up, as they were going out for a walk, but she wasn’t in her bed. After checking nearby playgrounds and contacting friends and relatives, Lorena reported her daughter missing at around 12:15pm that afternoon.

INVESTIGATION:

The search for Tamra grabbed the attention of the entire city and would become the largest and most expensive in Regina’s history. At first, patrol officers checked the neighbourhood to make sure she hadn’t simply wandered away or gone to another house, but after they could find no trace of her, the search intensified. The Regina Police Service set up a command post in the parking lot of a church in the 1900 block of Ottawa Street, and hundreds of volunteers, police and RCMP cadets began the search on foot, horseback and in the air. They scoured streets, yards, neighbourhoods, alleys, manholes and trash cans looking for her and even took the search to a local landfill and to areas outside the city. While clothing and a child’s shoe were discovered, they didn’t belong to Tamra, and overall little trace of the missing girl was uncovered.

Since the initial search, there have been others throughout downtown Regina and around the family home. Lorena signed consent forms allowing investigators to search the house. She also provided them with her DNA. Besides seeing a window that had been broken during the fight between Russell and Dean, they found no signs of forced entry or a struggle.

Police questioned sex offenders in the area. They also obtained surveillance footage from area bars, gas stations, convenience stores and a nearby Greyhound depot.

To help develop a timeline for the night before, investigators brought in the family, including Tamra’s siblings, for questioning. In particular, Dean, Russell and Lorena were under intense scrutiny. At the time, investigators felt they weren’t being completely forthcoming with information and were overall not happy with the gaps and inconsistencies in the version of events they were told. The three denied the allegations and expressed that investigators were focusing too much attention on them and not enough on finding Tamra. To help move the investigation along, they named five people they believed could be suspects, including a pedophile who had befriended Tamra some time before.

A few days after Tamra disappeared, an Amber Alert was issued. There are different reports as to why it took so long for one to happen. Some sources say the Amber Alert system hadn’t yet been implemented in Saskatchewan at the time, while a spokesperson for the Regina Police Service said the circumstances of the disappearance hadn’t met the criteria for an alert.

The disappearance soon made national headlines. While appreciative of all the coverage the case was getting, the family soon grew frustrated with both the media and police due to the way they were being treated. Rumours soon began to spread about what happened to the missing girl. One person said she had been seen at a dollar store with an older woman, while another, which has since been disproved with hospital records, claimed Tamra never existed and had been made up in order to scam money from Social Services. A third rumour, which was spread by business owners in the neighbourhood, claimed detectives were looking for a middle-aged white man named “Rocky” or “Roch”. However, police never confirmed if this was true.

To show support for Tamra and the family, residents would wrap ribbons around trees and leave both teddy bears and angels on the steps of the Keepness house.

On July 13, 2004, a $25,000 reward was issued by the Regina Police Service for information about the case, this after searches for Tamra had been suspended. The case was quickly changed from a missing persons investigation to one that was criminal in nature.

On July 19, 2004, Dean was charged with assault causing bodily harm in relation to the fight he’d had with Russell on the night of Tamra’s disappearance. While he tried to appeal, he was denied and sentenced to nine months. Two days later, Tamra’s siblings were removed from the house by Social Services and placed into foster care. Neither government officials or the police would say if this was related to the case, but the house was once again searched after they left.

Just under a month after Tamra went missing, a vigil for the missing girl was held at the family’s house.

On August 11, 2004, Troy was charged with assaulting Dean with a baseball bat, during which he sustained minor injuries. Troy told investigators that he’d gone over to the house to try and get answers about his daughter’s disappearance.

In September 2004, unsealed search warrants revealed police had evidence to believe Tamra had been abducted, as blood had been found on the floor, on the front porch and on bicycles sitting on the porch.

That same month, investigators searched Muscowpetung First Nation, approximately 60km northeast of Regina. The week-long search involved 30 people from the Regina Police Service, the RCMP, Montreal Lake Cree First Nation, and Search and Rescue Regina. While a reason wasn’t given as to why the search had moved north, it’s believed investigators were trying to establish a connection between Tamra and a burnt-out Volkswagen van found on the reserve. The van had been stolen just 10 blocks from the family home on the night the young girl went missing and a jail guard named Sherry Ann Rose had told police that she and a former inmate had stolen the van, picked up Tamra and dumped her body in a ravine on the reserve. A massive search was conducted, with special attention given to ravines and gullies. The waterways were drained with compression pumps and thoroughly searched, but nothing of interest was found. It was later deemed that remains found in the van did not belong to Tamra, and Sherry Ann Rose confessed to having made the story up in order to get her abusive boyfriend locked up. As a result, she was charged with mischief.

Pasqua First Nation was also searched based on tips from the public and visions from First Nations elders.

A six-person task force was established to investigate leads in the case. It would eventually be pared down to just two detectives.

In December 2004, Walter William Obey of Muscowpetung First Nation was charged with assaulting Sherry Ann Rose. He had also been charged with stealing the van that had been found burnt out on the reserve.

At one point during the investigation, Troy was charged with assaulting a female. He claims the assault occurred due to the stress he’d been enduring as a result of Tamra’s disappearance. He was sentenced to house arrest for the charge.

In June 2005, a new team of investigators were assigned to the investigation. That same month, a memorial march was held to commemorate the one-year anniversary of Tamra’s disappearance. This would be replaced the next year by an annual barbecue.

In October 2005, searchers brought in cadaver dogs to aid in the investigation. They searched around Regina for three days, with a specific focus on the north end of Winnipeg Street, Wascana Lake and Wascana Creek. This would be one of the last major searches for Tamra, as the search would be scaled back in April 2006.

Dean has publicly stated that he feared for his safety during the early days of the investigation because he felt the police and the community believed he played some role in Tamra’s disappearance. This sentiment sometimes resulted in the family member’s safety being put into jeopardy. In one instance, three people jumped Lorena after accusing her of selling her daughter in order to buy drugs, something she has repeatedly denied.

In August 2008, seven officers were assigned to work exclusively on the case.

The reward for information was doubled to $50,000 in June 2014. The increase was approved by the Regina Board of Police Commissioners and it has been renewed every year. The police chief hopes the continuation of the reward will allow the family to see they still care about finding Tamra.

During 2014, a hand-drawn map of Muscowpetung First Nation was uploaded to Reddit, with the user claiming the wells on the reserve contained Tamra’s remains. According to the user, she’d found the map amongst the belongings of a deceased relative and that her grandmother had gotten it from a late aunt who’d drawn it up based on visits to a person in prison. While she didn’t have any firsthand knowledge of the investigation, she recalled her family talking about wells and felt the map might be worth something to the investigation. As for why she shared the map on Reddit instead of contacting the police directly, the user claimed to have previously submitted tips via the RCMP, the Regina Police Service and Regina Crime Stoppers, only to never receive a response.

Upon learning about the map, investigators looked to see if it held any real value. This resulted in a search of the reserve, which was done by the Regina Police Service, members of Tamra’s family and the Fort Qu’Appelle detachment of the RCMP. They looked through over two dozen wells with a special camera, but found no evidence that Tamra had ever been there. While an attempt was made to contact the Reddit user in the hopes of learning more about the map, investigators have said they don’t believe it to be an authentic piece of evidence.

The experience was very upsetting for Tamra’s family. It’s been noted that the search prompted renewed interest in the case.

The family has consulted with psychics, elders and mediums. The police have also been in contact with elders, who told them they’d had visions of a child near rocks, trees and water.

In May 2015, Tamra’s case was one of 122 highlighted by the province of Saskatchewan during Missing Persons Week.

In July 2018, a class action lawsuit was filed against the federal government. Tamra’s case was one of many listed. It claimed the federal government had breached the charter rights of Indigenous families to security and freedom from discrimination, and that numerous negative experiences were had as a result of the alleged mishandling of cases. It also claimed that the RCMP shared a responsibility with the government, given it’s a branch of the federal government. The claimants sought $500 million in damages for the RCMP’s handling of the investigations and $100 million in punitive damages.

In May 2019, the RCMP launched a week-long campaign to bring more attention to 45 missing children in Canada. Tamra’s case was one of the one’s highlighted.

Toward the end of 2019, the Regina Police Service renewed its commitment to solving the case. It’s still an active investigation and is currently in the hands of the Cold Case Unit. Investigators are still reviewing and working on case files, and they continue to regularly receive tips – approximately 16 a year. While no arrests have been made and no evidence found to explain how and why Tamra went missing, it’s believed she is deceased and that foul play was involved. However, full details of the investigation haven’t been released due to the ongoing nature of the case.

Lorena has said she doesn’t like to talk about the early parts of the investigation, given the negative focus that was on the family at the time. She also shares that the numerous rumours took a toll on everyone. She agrees with investigators that someone out there is currently withholding information and, as such, she and the family continue to pursue leads on their own time.

THEORIES:

1) The general theory in the case is that Tamra was abducted by a stranger. Some people think she may have wandered away and been abducted by a driver who was cruising the area at the time, while others cite the home’s location. It’s less than a block from the Oskana Community Correctional Centre, a halfway house for federal parolees, and is located near the Salvation Army’s Waterston House, which is known to shelter former inmates and drug and alcohol users. Some feel that Tamra’s disappearance may have been at the hands of someone staying at either location.

While there are many theories surrounding who could possibly have been involved, Lorena is certain her daughter was taken between 9:00am and 10:20am on July 6, 2004. This is further supported by Raine’s version of events, which state Tamra most likely left the room during early/mid-morning.

2) Some in Regina feel Tamra may have been abducted by someone in the drug trade or potentially sold by her mother in order to pay a cocaine debt. The authorities asked Lorena if her daughter’s disappearance was related to the drug trade in some way and Lorena fiercely denied it.

3) There’s a slight chance Tamra’s disappearance is related to the argument Dean and Lorena had on the night she went missing. However, this is seen as unlikely, as both have said the argument was not about anything major and was simply a small spat between partners.

4) It’s possible her disappearance is the result of an accident. While this line of thinking opens up to many possibilities, one idea brought up theorizes that Tamra may have gotten lost after leaving her home. Possibly scared, she then crawled into somewhere so small that she’s never been found. If this is the case, then it means the young girl has most likely passed away.

5) Some have speculated that Tamra’s unstable home life could have played a role in her disappearance. They feel the evidence for this stance comes from the investigators’ theory that Lorena, Dean and Russell have not been completely forthcoming regarding the events of July 5 and July 6, 2004. However, as aforementioned, all three individuals claims they’ve been completely truthful with those investigating the case.

6) A final theory held by the family involves a drifter that used to stay at the house. Lorena informed police of the woman, whose name is currently unknown, as she used numerous aliases. However, it is known the children called her “Big Auntie”. She is said to have been a sketchy character who frequently lied to Lorena. She had been staying at the house before Tamra’s disappearance, but left after she and Lorena had a falling out. She has not been seen since.

Is it possible she abducted Tamra in revenge, or could she have had another motive for abducting the young girl, if she was indeed involved?

AFTERMATH:

Every year, the community holds a barbecue in Tamra’s honour, just a few blocks from where she disappeared. It’s held by the Regina Treaty and Status Indian Services, and the Regina Police Service sends officers to help serve food. According to the family, they hold it to show everyone they’re still looking for Tamra and to also lend support to other families of missing and murdered Indigenous women. They’ve shared that seeing the amount of people who come out and show support has helped them hold onto the hope that one day she’ll be found. Until that day happens, the barbecue will be held yearly.

Unfortunately, Lorena no longer has any family pictures of Tamra, as someone threw out a large portion of her property a few years ago. The only images she has of her daughter are those featured on the missing persons flyers.

Many of the investigators who initially worked on the case have since retired. However, they are still dedicated to solving the case and say it frequently comes to mind.

Lorena has moved repeatedly since Tamra disappeared, having been evicted numerous times. She spends her days working odd jobs and has shared that she fell into sex work not long after her daughter went missing. Her other children have never been permanently returned to her custody and the three babies she gave birth to after Tamra’s disappearance have since been taken by Social Services.

Tamra’s twin sister, Tannis, is currently in university.

Russell Sheepskin passed away on January 1, 2009. Those investigating the case wonder if he knew any more information that may have been useful in finding Tamra.

Lorena feels hopeful that she’ll one day see her daughter again. She does not think Tamra is dead, despite what investigators have said.

Troy has shared that he tries not to dwell on the case, but that it’s hard not knowing if Tamra is alive or dead. He says he harbours guilt over having lost custody of his children in the years leading up to her disappearance.

CASE CONTACT INFORMATION:

Tamra Jewel Keepness went missing from the 1800 block of Ottawa Street in Regina, Saskatchewan Canada on July 5, 2004. She was five years old, and she while what she was last wearing is unknown, it’s believe she could have had on a light blue striped halter top with pink accents; light blue jeans; and either rubber boots or pink and white shoes. She may have been barefoot. At the time of her disappearance, she stood at 3’5″ and weighed between 35 and 40 pounds. She had bobbed black hair and brown eyes. She has two circle-type birthmarks on her stomach, one dark and the other lighter in colour, and a scar on one of her legs, just below the knee.

Currently, her case is classified as a missing person. If alive, she would be 21 years old.

If you have any information regarding the case, you can contact the Regina Police Service at 306-777-6500. Tips can also be submitted to Child Find at 1-800-387-7962 or anonymously via Regina Crime Stoppers at 1-800-222-8477.

Russell Sheepskin👇🏾

Summer Keepness👇🏾

Troy Keepness👇🏾

Lorena Keepness👇🏾

Tamra Keepness 👇🏾

Raine Keepness👇🏾

Dean McArthur👇🏾

Ellen Keewatin👇🏾

[theelvenhaven]

Hi! I completely agree that if Vanie took an interest in Dior romantically then Beren and Lúthien are probably in the right to be suspicious of her considering their experience with Celegorm and Curufin, even though Vanie didn't do anything wrong. But what I'm intensely curious about is Thingol and Melian. How would they react? We know that in canon Dior married Nimloth who was a descendant of Thingol's brother Elmo (if I'm not mistaken), so I do think Thingol would be fine with it but if Dior got together with Vanie... I wouldn't be surprised if he pulled a Silmaril Quest 2.0. Hopefully, he learned enough from the first time around that this is a bad idea in general or Melian at least convinced him. What are your thoughts? Thanks!

07.07.2021

OMG I’m so excited that you want to talk about Vanie 🥰💖

But yes exactly! Even though Vanie is innocent of her brothers misdoings and crimes, with everything her brothers had done it would warrant serious suspicion!

And oh goodness 😅 I honestly don’t even know if it would be Silmaril Quest 2.0 with her denouncing her brothers and family entirely or if it would end up being just a complete and total ban of some kind or swearing that she can’t enter Doriath and I am sure with a threat to follow along.

I don’t think Thingol would take kindly at all to Dior falling in love with a Fëanorian whatsoever. That’s putting it lightly. Not after what they did to the Teleri, not after what Celegorm and Curufin did to his daughter... Even though Vanifinwë has done nothing that contributed to anything to what her brothers did or the horrors they committed. I think the fact that she has blood with them just would sit horridly in Thingol’s everything.

Melian I think on the other hand would be cautious over the relationship but would see quickly that she could be trusted. I think Melian would be very accepting of Vanie and try to sway Thingol and remind him how they essentially do not need a repeat of what he put their daughter through.

I doubt though it would get through to him, and Vanie would end up very much being separated from Dior when he is in Doriath before his grandfather dies.

[eloarei]

Hiatus’d WIPs:  “Touch” (bnha)

I recently had a conversation with a friend/reader about how many unfinished fics I have lying around, and it made me decide to finally make a post for each one; under the assumption that I never write any of them again, I can at least link these posts at the end of the AO3 WIPs for people who are curious how the rest of the story goes.  So here we have:  WIP and notes for Dekumight fic series “Touch” (including unfinished next chapter) My thoughts: This was really one of my favorites for a while. There was something really fun about writing the sort of non-verbal communication they had going on, and the deep love and also awkwardness. However, the actual story of the fic doesn’t differ much from the canon plot, which makes it a little less interesting to write, and also difficult to pick up, because frankly I don’t remember shit anymore about canon.  Under the cut: (8,300 words total) 3,000 words of what would be the next chapter (ending about halfway through), then a rough draft of the second half of the chapter. After that, there’s a super-rough draft/ outline of the next several chapters, followed by a bunch of notes from when I was initially planning.  NOTE: Tumblr completely destroyed all formatting, so this should be full of italics, which implies thinking, but instead you’ll just have to puzzle it out.  Similarly, my notes have a bunch of bolding and some strikethrough, which probably doesn’t work either. Sorry. 

Takes place directly after “Retouch” (chapter 2) : 

Chapter 3 

It was just a few minutes later that Toshinori was hit with a spike of pleasure that he really shouldn't have been surprised by. He was finishing up some paperwork for UA though and wouldn't be getting ready for bed for a while, so instead of following through with the echo of Izuku's intense sensation, he just took a deep calming breath and willed himself to leave it alone. However, he did take a moment to send Izuku a well-timed text saying simply, | Sleep tight |. He still wasn't sure if the boy was aware of what he was doing to him, but he figured he'd just tip him off a little bit instead of asking outright. Not yet.

Izuku responded with a cute, embarrassed | ^^; you too |, and Toshinori laughed. So he hadn't expected to be called out on it, huh? Well, they could talk about it later; maybe over the weekend, if Suzuki's papers didn't scare him off. (And even then they'd probably still want to talk about at least a few things. Even if Izuku suddenly wanted nothing to do with him, even if they never saw each other again (a chilling thought), they'd still be affecting each other like this for the rest of their lives. It warranted at least a short conversation.)

Most likely, though... Most likely it would be a long conversation they'd be having, if Toshinori's impression of Inko was anything to go by. If it were just him and Izuku, who knew if they'd ever do much serious talking. It was far too tempting to just sit side by side with their hands tangled together and feel. So, it was probably good that Izuku's mother had such a strong hand in the situation-- and it was definitely good for both of them that she was such a reasonable woman. He knew she would probably bring up all the right topics (the things he still hadn't really researched; Suzuki wasn't going to be pleased with his ignorance), and ask all the right questions, and be super tactful about the whole thing, so he didn't fret about it, focusing instead on just getting through the week.

Easier said than done, he'd have told you, if you asked him at any point during those next few days, but eventually it was done, and he was standing outside the Midoriyas' apartment door with a briefcase in one hand and the other poised to knock. But before he could make a sound, the door opened, and Izuku was standing there, looking up at him with the brightest eyes.

“Hi,” he said, the simple word both enthusiastic and shy. His smile was impossibly wide, sending his freckles up into his eyes. “I, um, I could tell you were there,” he answered, before Toshinori could even ask how he'd known to open the door. Without further ado, Izuku reached out and took his hand, leading him into the apartment. They both breathed deep, relieved sighs as soon as they touched. Three days had just been too much.

Inside, Inko was doing dishes. “Oh, Toshinori, hi,” she said, looking over her shoulder. “I'll be done here in just a minute. Izuku said you have some papers for us to look at?”

“At my manager's insistence,” he explained. Guided by Izuku, he took a seat next to him at the kitchen table, their hands still joined, and set the briefcase up where his other hand could find what he needed. He pulled the stack of papers out and set them in the middle of the table.

“How's your week been?” Izuku asked quietly, as they waited for Inko to join them.

“It's been fine,” Toshinori answered, though the emotion rolling around in his chest said 'I missed you', and he was fairly sure Izuku could feel it.

The boy squeezed his hand at the feeling and replied, “Me too,” in response to the unspoken sentiment.

Drying her hands off on a dishtowel, Inko sat down across from them and gave the pair of them an appraising (but ultimately approving) look, before she slid the stack of papers over to her. “What have we got here?” she asked, apparently rhetorically, as she didn't wait for Toshinori to attempt to explain. She read through each page carefully and then passed it over to Izuku, who seemed mildly surprised but also read each one before sliding it over to Toshinori. (He skimmed them again for familiarity's sake, but he'd already read through them in detail with Suzuki a day or two before.)

Other than a 'hmm' here and there, Inko didn't make any comments until they were through the entire stack, which took about an hour. (Although she did stop to tell Toshinori to make himself at home, when she realized he might be thirsty or something.) It was a very quiet hour, and it would have been unnerving for Toshinori if he hadn't still had Izuku latched onto him, feeding him wisps of emotion as he read.

Once they'd gone through the whole stack, Inko started over from the beginning, and began to point out little details here and there and ask questions.

“I think most of it is reasonable enough,” she said. “We're not entitled to any of your income or royalties; that's fine. And we can't talk to the media about you. I'm alright with that. Izuku?”

Izuku nodded. “That's okay. I wasn't going to.”

“But this part here--” She pointed at it. “--says we're not allowed to tell anyone about the situation at all unless we have express written permission. That seems sort of... broad.”

Toshinori looked at the passage that Inko had indicated. “Uh, right. I told Suzuki I didn't think it was necessary, but he claims it's a safety precaution.”

“For you,” Inko said, and she did sound accusatory, but not overly much. “What happens if we break the contract? Suing us won't get you very much.”

“I wouldn't do that,” Toshinori tried to say, but Inko continued on.

“What if we need to tell someone and you're not around to give us permission? Like, Izuku's doctors? It just seems unreasonable. Dangerous, even. I get that you want to protect your status, but--”

Toshinori could feel Izuku begin to speak before he could hear the sound. “It's fine, mom,” he said. “It's not just for him. It's to protect us too. Remember that story a couple years ago? There was that lady who was kidnapped by villains because they thought they could use her to get to her husband?”

Inko pursed her lips, a slightly sour face. She clearly remembered the story, and how the woman had been tortured just to hurt her husband. Toshinori remembered it too; it had made him sick. It would have made anyone sick, especially anyone who was close to their soulmate.

“That's probably what Mr. Suzuki was thinking of,” Izuku added softly, and Toshinori could tell that he didn't quite believe in Suzuki's altruism (hard for him to, when he could feel Toshinori's own skepticism about the man), but that he did still believe the reasoning was fair.

A bit subdued, Inko nodded. “Well of course we won't go around telling everyone. I... just think it's a little silly to have to get it in writing like this.”

“You're right,” Toshinori said, shaking his head. “Leave that one, then. I'll get Suzuki to take it out.”

It went like that for another hour or so, Inko pointing out things she wasn't sure about and Toshinori mostly telling her to just cross them out, because honestly, Suzuki was going to be pissed, but who cared? There was no one in the world who mattered more right now than Izuku, and that necessarily made his mother pretty important too. Toshinori would do whatever it took to make them comfortable, and his manager could just deal with it.

By the time they were done, they'd tossed out about half of the papers and scratched through parts of most of the rest of them, and were left with a reasonable list of promises that read roughly like this:

The Midoriyas could not talk to the media about All Might, and they couldn't knowingly do anything that would jeopardize his career, and Izuku couldn't act in any way that would hinder All Might's ability to do his job as a hero. That was pretty much it, though the basic meaning was hidden in so many superfluous details that it had their heads spinning.

As for Toshinori, he would not infringe upon the Midoriyas' anonymity, or use his status to coerce or extort them in any way, and he would be responsible for any financial issues that resulted from their connection (including, but not limited to, doctor's bills and lawyer's fees).

Honestly though, they all knew that these were pretty moot points. If Izuku or his family broke any of these rules, there was really nothing that All Might's lawyers could do about it. And if All Might failed to uphold his end of the bargain, the Midoriyas could take him to court for it, but it would be inviting far more trouble than it was worth.

More than anything, though, they trusted each other enough for this whole paper-signing situation to be mostly just laughable. Getting the papers to Suzuki was not a high priority (well, he might have thought so, but he was a failure of a manager if he actually expected such a quick turnaround, after all these years), so Toshinori didn’t hurry off, instead offering to take the two out for lunch. “Oh, thank you, Toshinori,” Inko said sweetly, “but I’ve got some work to finish up. Why don’t you two go out and take advantage of the nice day?” At his elbow, Toshinori could feel Izuku’s slight surprise echoing against his own. Although Inko had only been supportive so far, they still couldn’t help expecting that she was going to try to keep them apart-- though maybe they were just projecting their reasonable fears about society onto the only other person who knew just yet. But whether or not she might be more strict about them seeing each other in the future, she seemed fine with it just now, and they were grateful. “Thanks,” Izuku told her with a sunny grin, while Toshinori nodded in agreement. “Want us to bring you anything?” Inko shook her head. “Just be back before it’s late! And stay safe!” They promised they’d be careful (in every possible way), and left the apartment together, walking close by but with their hands in their respective pockets-- the safest place for them, when they would have wandered if left to their own devices, gravitated naturally toward each other and the fulfilling feeling they provided. “So what did you think of the papers?” Toshinori asked, a relevant icebreaker to start conversation once they were on their way. “I hope they didn’t seem too strict.” Izuku grinned, and drifted close enough to bump their arms together. “They seemed fine,” he said, apparently unbothered by them. “Honestly, I’d sign whatever I had to. It’s already crazy that I even got to meet you. So, whatever I have to do now… I’ll do it.” That smile was an absolute slice of sunshine, and if Toshinori wasn’t warm just by their proximity, it would have done the job. 

They wandered for some time, down towards the city center where they might find something for lunch (maybe something other than ramen, so they could expand the list of foods they knew they both liked), chatting a little. The topics were never anything consequential; Toshinori thought Izuku was still a little nervous around him and wasn’t sure what to say. He understood the feeling, even without a physical link, rather feeling that way himself. But Izuku also had the natural anxiousness of the young and quirkless (he remembered feeling that way), so Toshinori tried to guide the conversation in comfortable directions. Heroes were always a safe topic, and one with no end of iterations. They’d walked a few casual miles, keeping their attention slightly on their surroundings in case a good restaurant caught their eye, and were in the middle of discussing Kamui Woods when something else caught their attention. In the distance a block or so, there was a crowd gathered, their exclamations and worried murmurs rising to a concerning pitch just as an explosion shook the area. Many of the citizens shrieked and ran for cover, but plenty of them were still huddled around in a nervous fashion, like people observing either a train wreck or a predator from which prey could have no hope of escaping. Toshinori became aware of Izuku latching on to his arm more than he strictly felt it, the young man’s concern bleeding over into him and mixing with his own. He could feel Izuku’s natural empathy coming strong through the connection, something he’d only glimpsed the times before. There was something happening nearby, something that frightened and worried everyone; should he help? What could he even do? Should he stay out of the way? After all, they’d only just found each other, and to lose Toshinori now would be devastating; to be found out might be even worse! Izuku would hate himself if he ruined All Might’s career by causing a scandal, but he couldn’t just sit back if someone was in danger and, ahh, if only he had powers, if only he could do more than cling and be a burden to his soulmate and-- Oh, Toshinori thought. These were not his fears; they were Izuku’s. It was Izuku’s desire to help whoever might be in trouble, his desire and his desire and that was right, he wanted to help too. Of course he did. He was a hero, wasn’t he? There was only so worried he could be for his own safety and his reputation and Izuku shouldn’t worry either because it would be okay and I am here and it was amazing-- he really was the right one for him. The perfect soulmate, and maybe something more, but that was something he could think of later. The screams were louder now, and the worried murmurs too, and as an explosion shook the windows of a building half a block down they agreed they couldn’t turn away, not when there was a chance they could do something, anything. Even if there was no power left, it was still his duty, and he didn’t have to do this but yes he did. “You’re at your limit?” Izuku asked, glancing up at him through his fluffy bangs, concern bleeding out of him through more than just their physical connection. It couldn’t have been much more than a guess, but from his expression Toshinori could see that Izuku somehow knew it, like an intuition. 

He nodded. “Essentially,” he replied. He wasn’t sure how to explain it in detail, but hoped a more nuanced understanding of it would flow through their bond. “I always have a reserve amount, but it’s… not much.” Izuku seemed to get it. “Maybe we can just… go see, if there’s something we can do.” That seemed fair; that seemed like the least they could do. Maybe there was something, some way to help. Inspired by each other, they jogged over to the scene and the crowd surrounding whatever trainwreck was keeping their attention so strongly. Toshinori froze down to his veins when they saw what was the cause of the commotion. It was a mutant; the same mutant he was sure he’d captured just the other day. Yes, he’d been distracted by Izuku’s presence, but he distinctly remembered turning the water bottle full of sludge over to the police before absconding with his new soulmate up to the rooftop. Izuku’s arm brushed Toshinori’s as he stepped closer in a subconscious bid at safety. How had the mutant escaped? Was it perhaps a different man after all? A twin, or someone with the same quirk? Had Izuku done something wrong? Distracted All Might from his task and caused the villain to escape? Was it the police’s fault? He glanced down at Izuku, who glanced up at him, and Toshinori shook his head. It’s not your fault, he said wordlessly, or Don’t worry about all that. And Izuku nodded, back on track after a momentary lapse of focus. How and why the mutant was here was of little concern. They both turned back to the scene at hand. “Okay, stand back and I’ll try to handle this,” Toshinori said, looking down at Izuku in a way he hoped was reassuring, and knowing anyway that he didn’t have to; Izuku could feel his determination, and every little ounce of worry that things might not go as planned. It was a nuance that Toshinori had learned to deal with in his life, and it was something Izuku was going to have to deal with as well. (Though given the boy’s penchant for overthinking, perhaps it wouldn’t be that much of a trial after all.) “Do you have enough energy?” Izuku asked nervously, obviously not wanting… well, all the things that could go wrong if Toshinori ran out at the wrong time. Toshinori laughed in soft self-depreciation. “Probably not,” he admitted. “But I’ll do what I can. That’s what it means to be a hero, right?” With Izuku’s arm still brushing his, he could feel the boy’s admiration, and it doubled in him and gave rise to a heroic rush he didn’t think he’d felt for years. Still, he waited for the right moment. That was another thing about being a hero; you couldn’t rush in blindly (not with his level of experience, anyway). He watched as the mutant swung his head around, like a cornered animal watching viciously for its enemies, and he could just about guess when it was going to let its guard down. Almost… he thought, his muscles tensing in anticipation. But just as he was about to spring forward, he felt a twinge of panic from Izuku’s side of the connection. It was a spike of recognition. Kacchan! 

The roughest of drafts: 

Izuku freaks out and runs to try to rescue him and they're all surprised when he actually manages to do some slight damage to the mutant; it's not enough to defeat him, but enough to stun him into dropping Bakugo, at which point Toshi transforms and rushes to finish him off. Tl;dr, turns out that a very tiny amount of Toshi’s power has become available to Izuku. (Make some note of the pain aspect, Toshi feeling Izuku’s pain from using OfA.) 

Afterward, when Toshi is talking to reporters (and Izuku has managed to avoid at least a little of the reprimanding from canon, due to appearing to have some power) Izuku can feel the discomfort, Toshi’s power draining. Perhaps he plays the fan, comes to shake his hand as thanks for saving him and they're both a little surprised that it eases the discomfort, seems to give Toshi back a little strength. Izuku had just done it as an instinct, but in light of what had just happened with the power sharing, they're both very curious how this whole soulmate thing is going to work. 

Toshi excuses himself from the crowd before too long and goes to find Izuku. He finds him being confronted by Bakugo, who knows that something is strange but doesn't know what (and is upset like in canon about Izuku trying to help him). Toshi tries to stay out of sight until Bakugo runs off, feeling that Izuku is confident enough in his ability to handle this. When they rejoin, Izuku explains who Bakugo is. 

“[But enough about that.] Are you okay?” 

They join hands. Toshi can feel that Izuku is fine but still he says, “It's you I'm concerned about. Do you know what you did back there?”

“That was your quirk,” he said, and Toshi nodded.

“Some of it, at least. Is your arm okay?” 

Izuku stretched his arm out, wiggling his fingers. “It aches a little, but I'm okay. I'm just… I've never done anything like that before. It felt… kind of amazing.” 

Toshi could tell that it was a little more than an ache, but that Izuku wasn't lying. It really wasn't hurting him much, and he was really feeling exhilarated. He remembered feeling like that when he first took the quirk himself. 

Izuku’s side of the connection was curious and Toshi realized he could feel him thinking about his past. He debated with himself for a minute. Was this the right time to tell Izuku about his past? He would have to tell him some time, and there was no reason to wait. “I felt the same way the first time I used it,” he said. “When my mentor gave it to me. I was about your age.” 

The feeling of surprise that Izuku emanated was not as much of a shock as he expected, more of a warm melting feeling, a soft realization. “You were ...quirkless? Someone gave you your quirk? But how?” 

Toshi tells the story as they head back to the apartment, but they take a detour to sit somewhere and finish talking. (Way before this, Izuku texts his mom to tell her what happened and that they're fine and they'll be home in a while.) It's gotten dark by the time Toshi has finished telling of Nana and AfO and needing to pass OfA on, and they're sitting on a bench in a corner of a park or something. 

“It was just an idea before,” Toshi says, “but now I'm pretty sure it's the right one. Would you be willing to take it? One for All?” 

The surprise this time really is a shock, and it nearly knocks the breath out of him. “...Really?” 

“You can tell I'm serious,” Toshi says with a smirk, and then he nods. “Yes. Really. It's the only thing that makes sense.” 

He thinks of the reasons: he needs to pass it on, and Izuku wants a quirk, needs one to get into UA. And he's defenseless without one, a real danger with them together now. And he's already shown that he can handle it, at least a little. 

“Should I think about it?” Izuku asks, looking unsure. He's probably thinking about all the things they talked about with his mother earlier, trying to be careful. But Toshi can tell he really wants it, and that's enough for him. 

“If you want,” he says. “Take your time.” He knows that Izuku will say yes. (He's less sure if Inko will agree, but he knows that between the two of them, they can convince her.) 

He can feel Izuku trembling, and it's with excitement he thinks. “Thank you,” Izuku says, almost breathlessly, and he leans forward and kisses Toshi, softly and quickly, and then looks him in the eyes for a short moment, twists his body in his direction more and leans in for another kiss. This one is a little deeper, lingering, not obscene but less than entirely chaste and Toshi can feel so so much through it, especially as he allows himself to kiss back. They don't take it far; Toshi can feel that Izuku knows there are boundaries, though Toshi is nervous about himself, unsure if he would be able to keep himself from crossing them, to stop when it was time. He's a bit anxious, but he's glad Izuku is reasonable, and he's excited and he's happy and they're melting into each other even though they've stopped kissing and it is finally Izuku who speaks up to interrupt them getting stuck in their twofold thoughts. 

“I should get home. I have to tell my mom about all this. Am I… Can I tell her? About OfA?” 

Toshi nods. “It's a big part of all of this. I guess she should know. And that'll give you a chance to talk it over with her. Decide if you want it.” 

‘I do want it,’ he could tell Izuku was thinking, although maybe not in so many words. Izuku was trying to be patient and make smart decisions. He was doing his best to be worthy of being Toshi’s soulmate, and Toshi was overcome with affection for him. He hugged him close, and even more than the kissing, that was the most they'd ever felt, the most contact they'd ever made. It was less electric than kissing, but like an overblown, overexposed photo. They stayed there like that for a little while before they silently agreed to get up and go back. 

The end of chapter 3, more or less. 

Chapter four. 

Izuku took a week to act like he was thinking about it, but in truth he'd decided almost immediately, and convinced his mom that it was a good idea (or that she should let him do it at least) on that first night, after Toshi had walked him home and said goodbye. 

“Izuku! I saw on the news about that mutant attack! You're really alright? And Toshinori, and Katsuki?” 

“We're fine mom! Toshinori saved us. But…” A pause. “With dad, have you ever… accidentally used his quirk before?” 

She raised an eyebrow at him, looking a little worried. “I can feel when he's using it, but i've never breathed fire myself.” 

Yeah, it wasn't anything he'd ever heard of before. Maybe it was because most people's quirks weren't that strong. Maybe it was because he was quirkless. Maybe… well there were a lot of reasons it could be. It didn't matter that much why; it had happened, and they'd both felt it. 

“I used it. All Might’s power.  Just a little bit of it.”

“Are you okay?” 

He said he was fine, he thought, but Inko was skeptical. She remembered some times when he was younger, when he thought an injury was less serious than it was. She convinced him to go to the doctor tomorrow and he agreed, dismissively as he was so invested in telling her about Toshinori’s offer. She's a bit nervous about the idea but it doesn't take long for her to give in. 

At the doctor's tomorrow (maybe only mentioned, not a scene) it turns out that Izuku did in fact fracture a bone in his arm. (Is a cast needed for that? Probably not.) 

Later that afternoon, Toshinori texted him and asked if he was okay; his arm felt a little off. Izuku responds casually that it was just a fracture and he's fine, and Toshi fusses over him a little, apologizes for putting him in that situation. Izuku really is not bothered by it. Toshi doesn't ask if Izuku has decided and Izuku wonders if he's changed his mind. A week later, he says that he's decided to take OfA, if he's still offering it, and Toshi says that he'd be happy to give it to him, if he's really sure. But! There's no way Izuku is going to be able to handle it in his current state. They begin to train (though not until Izuku’s fracture heals). In the meantime, Izuku continues school, and Toshi continues work, and they see each roughly every weekend. Sometimes they'll meet out for lunch or sometimes Inko invites Toshi over for dinner. 

(Cover some catch up. Mention Suzuki being annoyed about the edits to the paperwork etc)

It's a few weeks before they start to train, but of course it's much less covert than in canon. Inko knows exactly where they're going; Toshi has discussed it with them over dinners and such. He doesn't tell them that his plan is for Izuku to clean up the trash on the beach until they get there though. 

The next several months are a more efficient training than canon. After Toshi is pretty sure Izuku has grown strong enough, they try the power-share again, and Izuku is able to start using the very tiny percentage of OfA, sometimes. It works if he's recently been in physical contact with Toshi, and fades after a minute or two. It's not enough to do anything very heroic, but it is a significant boost to Izuku’s natural strength, allowing him to move items several times his normal weight limit. 

(They also find that Izuku can actually use a version of OfA that is more than twice as powerful as his tiny version, only if Toshi is currently in contact with him. However, Izuku hurt himself the first time they did that, so they avoid it until much later.) 

They still don't have a perfect grasp on Izuku’s ability to handle it by the time they transfer it to him, but it's better than canon, and they do it earlier so he has more chance to practice. He has at least some ability to use it at half-power before the entrance exam (chapter 5). The only reason he hurts himself so badly there is because he freaked out and wasn't careful. 

Training is pretty fun for them. It's more like play than in canon, with Izuku showing off, carrying Toshi around, silly stuff like that. He's moderately less concerned about being a hero, mostly because Toshi is so constantly encouraging so he doesn't worry about it. And he knows that even if he doesn't make it somehow, he's still got Toshi and nothing can take that away. 

Aside from training, they still spend a good amount of time together. Events and holidays and such. Izuku meets Suzuki. Toshi invites Izuku (and probably Inko) to his place once or twice, though they still spend most of their time out or at the Midoriyas’ apartment. Inko politely requests that they not stay at Toshi’s place. (She isn't /too concerned, but she just wants them to know that she has some kind of expectations about how they'll handle their relationship. She half expects Izuku to go behind her back in some of those regards.) 

Izuku has his 15th birthday not long after they start training (might have to look this one up) or thereabouts. He has mixed emotions about this, and about inviting Toshi to his ‘party’ (probably just a fancy-ish dinner with his mother (maybe dad too?) Since he doesn't have any friends). He wants Toshi there, of course, but he's somewhat embarrassed about still being only 15, and doesn't want to draw attention to it. On the other hand, he's also excited to be getting older, closer and closer to the age that it would be appropriate for he and Toshi to act however they liked. (This birthday scene goes in early middle of chapter.) 

More holidays: Christmas, new years, Valentine's day. Maybe just slight mentions of those. 

Chapter ends when Toshi wishes Izuku luck at the entrance exam. He kisses him and Izuku is a little shocked because Toshi is rarely if ever the one to initiate that sort of thing. He heads to the exam, excited and confident. 

Chapter 5. 

Toshi heads to UA (potentially along with Izuku), and goes to watch the exam with his fellow teachers. He's met them several times and they know about his injury and resting form, but only Nedzu knows that Izuku is his soul mate. Most of the others are familiar enough with him to know that he doesn't have one, and many assume that he's one of the few who will never have one. 

When the exam starts though, they might be able to tell that he is on edge, excited but nervous. However, they are all focused as well. It's not until Izuku smashes the robot (and everyone is shocked) and Toshi reacts to the pain that they notice the connection between them. He's not incapacitated (like Izuku is) but he is distressed and in pain and having to deal with the commotion from the other teachers. (Choose one teacher to perhaps help him out.) 

As soon as he's able, he goes to Izuku. (At some point he calls Inko to let her know what's happened, and she's worried and upset and he has to talk her down until she realizes that he's upset too.) In the infirmary, Izuku is knocked out, which Toshi already knew, could tell because the pain subsided very quickly. Chiyo looks up when he comes in, obviously connecting the dots. 

“He made quite a mess of himself,” she tells him, pulling up a chair next to Izuku’s bed for him. She tells him the details of what Izuku broke.  “But he'll recover.” 

“Thank you,” Toshi says, reaching out to carefully run his hands over Izuku’s arm, laying his hand on the side of his face, thinking about if this was a good idea, etc. 

Eventually, Izuku wakes up and they talk. A few people might come by in the meantime. Izuku is eventually clear to go home. Toshi takes him. Izuku asks if he passed, knowing that Toshi was there, and all Toshi can say is that he thought he did a good job, but he doesn't know for sure. (He later finds out that Izuku scored quite well, but refrains from telling him, letting Izuku get the letter from the school.) 

He gets a phone call from Izuku after the letters have gone out, and he can feel a sense of excitement even before he picks up. Izuku is crying on the other end. “Why didn't you tell me I made it?!” But he is obviously extremely happy.

Out on patrol or something, Toshi can't stop grinning for the rest of the day. When someone asks him, he just says that he's excited for new opportunities. 

Chapter 6

Izuku and Toshi both begin at UA. Izuku has already made friends with a few people from the exam, and of course he knows Bakugo. Bakugo is extra suspicious of him, confused about how he's got a quirk suddenly, and knowing that he's been acting strange the whole past year. He might even suspect that they're both related to izuku’s soul mate, considering the timing. 

School is, of course, plenty for them to focus on, but izuku and Toshi are still very focused on each other as well. Toshi treats izuku much the same as in canon, inviting him for lunch and etc, “playing favorites”. But since the other teachers know they're soulmates (at least, some do?) they don't criticize him quite as much for it. 

Toshi and izuku continue to progress in their relationship, lightly, balancing their personal and professional relationships. They act very casual around each other and have to be careful not to be too casual in front of the class. 

Izuku makes friends, which is sort of new for him. He loves them and wants to be open with them about his situation, but he can't. He's thought about telling, but he knows he can't break the rules they set. It's harder when perhaps the rumor (true rumor? What do you call that?) goes around about how he was affected by the soul link pain when he was little. He can easily tell his friends that it's not bad anymore, but it's hard having to pretend he doesn't know who it is. (Also may have to decide about sub-pairings? Otherwise it will be very hard for any of the other students to talk about their experiences. If they had mates in the class (like most ships) they would likely find out very quickly.) 

Most people won't immediately assume it's All Might, even if they spend a lot of time together. 

Key point: they hone their energy sharing, as Toshi becomes a bit exhausted some days. Simply being in contact for a while (lunch or something) acts as a recharge for him. When the other staff figure this out, they're much more accepting of izuku hanging out in the staff lounge. 

(Need to rewatch to see what the first few weeks are like.) 

Maybe include some scenes with Inko.

Chapter 7

This is the USJ incident. Toshi gets caught up in work and is late to help at USJ, but less late than in canon because he feels/hears Izuku crying out for him. Don't have to describe most of the USJ events because it's from Toshi POV, but have to decide when he gets there and if it all goes more smoothly. 

The way that Toshi and izuku act towards each other (calling by their first names, extreme familiarity and working together) is what starts to tip off some of the students, though it's not relevant at the time. 

The encounter is a little easier this time, with the power-share (this is probably the first time they try it out seriously) and the desperation to save each other (and the others) echoing between them. 

Any character who takes notice of their bond and quirk in canon is likely to notice the soul link instead. 

After the incident, emotions are running high. This was the first time they were honestly scared of losing each other. They want to hold each other for a very long time. Perhaps they are seen by some of the students (who maybe chalk it up to generic relief over the situation, but would definitely file it away for later). Later, they still don't want to let each other go, and perhaps spend their first night together (not necessarily sexual or anything), Inko having not allowed them to do so before. 

Emotional wrap-up; they're scared but calmed by each other's presence. They know they can handle the future together. 

END? (of this particular story, probably)  Brainstorming, notes, and ideas for further fics in the series 

And the notes below:  (my shorthand for the characters is IM = Izuku Midoriya, AM= All Might, IMmom = Inko (not shorthand in that case I know lol, I think I didn’t want people reading over my shoulder)) >>>"Touch" sequel

A lot of people actually expressed an interest in this, so let me jot down my ideas-- as well as their ideas. 

AM and IM have met, and now keep in touch. How has this changed their lives? Well now whenever they feel a strange pain, they'll call or text each other to make sure they're okay. They're both aware of what their relationship would be, if IM was older, and so is his mom, and so is pretty much everyone else that knows. In fact, most people assume that they're 'together' anyway, and it causes some tension. They try to keep it mostly under wraps, but it's nearly impossible. IM's friends and classmates are sure to notice, and AM's manager thinks maybe they should just come out with it. For their part, IM and AM just want to enjoy each others' presence and keep their moral concerns personal. IM is of course more brave (between the two of them), while AM knows he's 'supposed' to refrain. In public, they're both very good about it. 

Some time in the future, after they've really adjusted to each other, and the drama (at least from their friends and family) has died down, they take to being heroes together, as they at some point realize how much more receptive they are when they're together/touching. 

Questions! : 

--Does IM still get OfA? (I'm leaning towards yes? Most of the rest of the story wouldn’t make sense if he didn’t.) 

--How do friends/family react? Some people are jealous? BK particularly? IMmom is as supportive as possible, but she still worries for IM. As time goes on, if IM get OfA, she worries for AM too. (What about AM's cop friend?? I dunno, haven't thought about him much.) 

--How do media/people react? Manager wants to tell, because he knows people will find out and it's better to come out with it before they do. But AMIM want to stay private. Perhaps at the tournament, it is no longer possible to avoid media attention. Someone notices AM's discomfort when IM fights TS, notices IM look to the stands for AM before doing something reckless. When they find out, it's all anyone wants to talk about. AM's thin form becomes very useful for avoiding the media. 

--Perhaps around then, IM is kidnapped to be used against AM? 

--When things are calm, AMIM often text each other just to talk-- sometimes in the night. "I miss you" IM texts. "Is that what you were thinking of?" AM asks, aware that IM is awake and wound up, and winding him up too. This is before they've really worked out how things are supposed to go between them. IM is bold; AM is holding himself back.

-- IM goes to UA, begins to use quirk. -- AMIM work harder at managing IM’s abilities than in canon, because its effects are more obvious on them. -- AM starts at UA as a teacher; AMIM have to hide their link. IM has not told anyone. AM had to tell the staff. -- When the villains attack, AM gets there sooner, as he’s tipped off by their link. Things happen about the same. -- (Should I bother to include that part if nothing is significantly different? Leaning towards no. Maybe just touch on it.) -- At the tournament, that’s when people take notice of AMIM’s link. (IM’s friends have already begun to notice.) -- After that, it’s all anybody wants to talk about. AMIM are in the spotlight, though UA tries to protect them. -- The media begins to gossip about them, some piecing the puzzle together about their quirks. Some guess that IM is AM’s son (and has inherited his quirk). (It’s not unheard of for family to be platonic soulmates.) -- Manager makes them come out with an official statement finally, despite their reluctance. -- IM receives many invitations to intern with heroes. For safety’s sake, they turn them all down, except Torino. -- IM goes to train with Torino, covertly, while AM stays behind to deal with the PR mess. -- Things happen about as usual. Maybe only touch on this part as well? Not super relevant to the AU. -- IM thinks about AM during the fight with HK, and AM wants to get to him, knowing something is wrong, but knows he won’t make it in time. (Remember, “Touch” was 3rd person limited-omniscient. POV can be from IM, AM, and other relevant characters.) -- Would AM be allowed to test IM during the midterms? Maybe gloss over that part. Especially towards the end of Season 2, go more vaguely into the ending, to avoid making it obvious that you have no idea what happens after that. XD; Isolate the emotional core of the story (the emotional drama or problem) to solve in the final scenes, even if it avoids canon entirely. That’s preferable, in fact. Points to write, unrelated to canon occurrences: : -- AMIM want to spend a lot of time together, but they must balance their responsibilities. IMmom is pretty understanding and allows them a lot of freedom. -- Manager (needs name) is less understanding, hounds them to release a press statement. -- Most of their time together is spent in private or secluded places. Obvs, they frequent the beach for training. -- They often text and talk to each other on the phone, nightly if they haven’t seen each other. -- AM is still struggling a little bit with the fact that IM is so young, but he’s impressed by IM’s emotional maturity. -- IM is over the moon about AM, not enduring nearly the moral struggle AM is. He’s not an idiot, and he’s not oblivious, but he doesn’t think that there’s anything particularly wrong with them messing around a little. He’s considerate enough not to wind AM up when he’s busy or they’re in public, although sometimes he can’t help how he feels. (Being ‘turned on’ isn’t really strong enough of a feeling to cross the link; only acting on it is.) -- For his part, AM (at first, at least) tries not to touch himself, or at least only when he thinks IM is sleeping. Eventually they come to the conclusion that that’s not working out well-- and the most logical way to handle it, so as not to inconvenience either of them, is to go at the same time/ at set times. -- That is the most AM allows them to do (hugging/cuddling is totally fine, limited kissing is okay), and even that seems like too much to him, but he compromises with himself because he knows it would be worse if he didn’t. (It’s not as if he’s going to convince a 16-year-old to stop touching himself for 2+ years, and though his own urges are less frequent, it’s been uncomfortable trying to hold back entirely.) He doesn’t allow them to touch each other, and IM is actually pretty okay with this. Well, he respects it, at least. He’s just happy to have AM in whatever capacity he can. Some notes regarding the universe: -- laws regarding consent ages are a bit more lax, given the soulmate thing. AMIM would be more-or-less within their right to do whatever they want with each other, as long as IMmom is okay with it. And even if she weren’t, they could apply to be married, even at IM’s young age, by passing a test that proves they’re soulmates.(I don't think they'll do this. Manager would have a heart attack. ...then again, maybe he'd like the idea…) -- however, there is still certainly a stigma about age-difference relationships, particularly where one party is underage. 

Story 1 plot points to mention our resolve:

-- telling IM that his mom already knew

-- AM coming to terms with IM being a fan

-- AM telling IM his real name

-- AM telling manager about IM immediately. (Might be a good point to start with.) 

To time skip or not to time skip? I'm leaning towards not. New outline, after I've written a bit. 

1. AM talks to manager, Suzuki, and tells him about the whole situation, almost entirely honest. They decide to keep it a secret until AM has a successor. (AM POV) 

2. AMIM go on a date, where they talk about both applying to UA. IM wonders what AM is not telling him. They hold hands. AM brings up the paperwork Suzuki wants them to sign, and IM agrees. (IM POV) 

3. AM sees something that convinces him to offer OFA to IM. (AM POV) 

4. IM begins to train for OfA. (IM POV) 

5. IM goes to UA entrance exam. (AM POV) 

6. They begin at UA, and try to figure out how to act around each other, after they've had so much private time over the past months. (IM POV) 

7. The villains attack UA, AMIM touch-team to beat them, and people start to really put their relationship together. (AM POV)

END S1. Ugh how did this get so long that I have to separate it by season?! 

Touch2 titles:

Some related words: Touch, feel, sense, sensation, emotion, Touch, touched, touching, touches, touchstone, touch-tone, aftertouch, finishing touch, retouch, out of touch, in touch, untouched, Touched can mean: physically touched (he touched my arm), lightly mentioned (he touched upon the issue), emotionally moved (he was touched by the story), brought together metaphorically (their lives touched), affected (his life was touched by his decisions) Touch, taste, smell, see, hear

Leaning towards using other ‘touch’ words for different parts of overall story. 

Touch - original story

Retouch(ed) - this story 

Touch-up - maybe the next part

Finishing touch - the last story (though there might be another in between) 

Untouchable - first nsfw side story, before izuku is of age, on the phone with each other, feeling the echoes of their actions. 

Untouched - second nsfw side story, when izuku comes of age and they finally get together physically. 

Aftertouch - epilogue (years in future, maybe, working together) 

In touch - side stories taking place in the timeline of the story

Out of touch - side stories taking place before or after story, or from different character's point of view or about different characters. 

Chapter quotes:  Every action of our lives touches on some chord that will vibrate in eternity. 

-Edwin Hubbell Chapin (Chapter 1, Retouch) The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched - they must be felt with the heart. 

-Helen Keller The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this: a human creature born abnormally, inhumanly sensitive. To him, a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death. Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create, create - so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, his very breath is cut off from him. He must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency he is not really alive unless he is creating. 

-Pearl Buck Aim for your star, no matter how far, you must reach high above and touch your life with love, you must never look back, but charge on! Attack! See your goal your star of desire, see it red hot, feel it burning, you must be obsessed with it to make it your true yearning, be ready my friends for when you truly believe it, you will certainly achieve it and by all of God’s universal laws you will always receive it! 

-Bob Smith We do not do well except when we know where the best is and when we are assured that we have touched it and hold its power within us. (lol god this one is awfully literal) 

-Joseph Joubert If you can learn from hard knocks, you can also learn from soft touches. 

-Carolyn Kenmore, Mannequin: My Life as a Model When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares. 

-Henri Nouwen And that’s everything I’ve got about Touch/Retouch! I might clean up that third chapter and post it some day, but *shrug*. 

[burnedbyshoto]

Four Rings

Kinktober Day 26 ~ kink: formal wear; quicky

pairing: midoriya izuku x fem!reader

warnings: smut, cursing, alcohol mention

word count: 4,455

a/n: I :) really :) like :) this :) i want a midoriya izuku in my life... pro-hero izuku is gonna slay some fucking pussy and y’all who disagree are cowards.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Midoriya looked into the mirror as he pulled up his black slacks. His eyes trained on his waist as he tucked in the white button-down shirt he wore. His shirt was now unbuttoned two buttons from the top, teasing at his toned chest as he zipped up his pants. The black leather belt slide in shortly afterward. His green eyes stared into his reflection as he pulled on his black blazer.

At twenty-three years old, Midoriya Izuku was no longer “plain.” He stood tall, toned, scars littering his body that showed off his hero status. Kind warm eyes, with freckles scattering his nose and cheeks. He was, if anything, a fine and beautiful man.

His fingers tentatively touched his slicked-back hair. A new style he had wanted to test out for gala’s like this one tonight. A few dark curls lay across his forehead still, but most were very much fought into place. Even Midoriya had to admit that he looked good.

He walked over to his nightstand and grabbed a four heavy silver and bronze rings. They slid against his calloused fingers. Secured tight onto his index finger and middle finger. Wiggling his fingers to get used to the new weight, Midoriya grabbed his cologne. He sprayed the scent against his neck and rubbing some on his wrists.

All that was needed were shoes, which were waiting by the entrance of the house waiting for him to leave.

“Izuku?” Your voice called out, and Midoriya’s eyes trained on the master bathroom’s closed door.

“Yes, angel?” Midoriya responded, his feet already moving over to the bathroom.

“I need help!” You laugh as Midoriya opens the bathroom door. He stares at your face through the reflection of the mirror.

Midoriya’s eyes wander down your body. You’re fit into a gorgeous formal dress. The rose champagne color or the dress shining because of the silk material. Your thighs slightly picking out as he realizes that it was a double slit dress. Midoriya smirks at your appearance, you’re totally and completely hot.

Your makeup complete. Your face set with natural colors and fake eyelashes, and a dark red lip completing your look. As he walks over to you, his eyes fall onto the body chain on your chest. The dress was revealing, the fabric holding your breasts like a bra. But the delicate silver chain that runs down your neck and into your cleavage... it makes Midoriya suck air between his teeth as he zips up your dress. His fingers purposefully trailing against your exposed skin.

You smile as you thank him, your gaze focused in on your reflection as you fix your hair.

“Do you think this outfit works for the gala?” You ask as you finally turn towards your fiancée. “I don’t look too overdone.”

“You look amazing!” Midoriya disagrees as he presses a soft kiss to your lips, making sure not to disturb your painted lips.

You hum contently, your fingers trailing up his chest as you lock them behind his neck. Your body pressed against him as your own eyes glance at his outfit. “You, my love, look sexy mega ultra hot.”

Midoriya laughs, a blush rising to his cheeks, “Thank you…”

“What those fingers do.” You ask, a teasing smile on your face as his blush strengthens.

“Y-Y/n…”

“Especially with those rings? I could melt on the spot, for real.”

Midoriya whines softly in the back of his throat before burying his face into your neck. The flustered hot breaths hitting your neck harshly. “I’m sorry!” You giggle as your giant of a boyfriend tries shrinking to your height. “But are you ready to go? I hear Momo has a chocolate fountain, and that is calling my name.”

Midoriya pulls away, his lips pressing against yours again.

“Okay, let's go.”

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

You loved going to “fancy events”.

The food was amazing, and the music was always live and beautiful.

Second of all, while it was under the pretense of being fancy, it was a total joke.

Your eyes concentrated on the small platter of fruits in front of you. Your fingers plucking some onto a small plate.

“I love your dress!” Uraraka sighed beside you as she grabbed a strawberry.

“It’s the only thing I had that wasn’t short.” You giggle as you help your friend pile more food onto her plate.

You also loved seeing your old classmates and beloved friends at these events.

But the main reason you loved these events?

It was the way Midoriya looked.

Tall, handsome, and breathtaking.

His smile was wide as he talked with Bakugou and Todoroki. The suit he wore was delicious against his taut muscles. His chest mocking you from the distance. The rings on his fingers shining with what seemed immense intensity.

A dull throb hit your lower belly and your lips pressed firmly against each other. Why did formal clothing turn you on this much? There was no need for you to be thirsting over your fiance like this in public.

Plopping a cube of pineapple into your mouth you turned away. You walked beside Uraraka as you joined your group of girlfriends by the dance floor. You smiled as you sat between Mina and Momo, and you joined in on the conversation.

Everything was going fine, the laughter between you seven girls warming your heart. It wasn’t even as if the seven of you didn’t see each other constantly. You all had a tradition of going to lunch or dinner every weekend. There was also the gym you all worked out at together, but being here at this gala, it was just riveting.

As the night drew on, more and more couples began gracing the floors. Dancing had begun and the group of you girls were out there dancing as if you were back in high school. Pairing up and whisking each other around the dancefloor as giggles filled the air. You held onto Tsuyu’s and Jirou’s hand as the three of you twirled around. The song was too good and both girls were being too shy.

“You wouldn’t mind if I steal y/n away for a second?” Midoriya’s voice fills your left ear as his hand comes to lay against your right waist.

“Please take her, she won’t let us sit down!” Jirou exclaims, shoving you towards your fiance to which you scoff.

“My heart is broken because you don’t want to dance with me.” You pout as you watch your friends wave as they run away towards the other girls. At least they weren’t sitting down.

You looked up into Midoriya’s green eyes and smiled. There was that small smile on his face as well, not anything like his grin. It was alluring enough to make the momentary forgotten heat flare up again.

“Hi there,” Midoriya greets you, and your smile broadens as his hand presses against the small of your back.

“Hi.” You say as you slip your hand into his free one.

Both of you don’t talk for a while as Midoriya moves you across the ballroom floor. The two of you seem to be gliding across ice. Each knowing each other so well that your steps match each other perfectly. Dancing with Midoriya was effortless, it was easy, and it was fun. You were not the greatest dancer, but somehow you turned out to be the very best with him gliding you across the floor.

A hum is then heard from your throat as he spins you, and you fall back into his arm. Only this time his hand presses your against his body. Your eyes flutter back up to his face. You had taken a comfortable position of laying your head against his shoulder.

“You alright?”

Midoriya nods his head, his jaw tightening as he leans in close, his lips brushing ever so soft against your ear.

“Your dress is doing something to me.” He whispers low into your ear.

A cunning smile extends onto your features as you fail to suppress it.

“What is she doing? I’ll tell her to stop.” You tease looking down at the shining jewelry between your breasts. The champagne color of your dress was truly memorizing.

“She’s making everyone look at you.” Midoriya sighs. The hot air of his exhales making goosebumps flash down your neck. “People wanting to know if you’re available for them. Asking me if we were still together as if that ring around your finger wasn’t enough to warrant them off.”

“Oh, who asked? Do I know them?” You ask, your lips pressing onto the sweet spot on Midoriya’s neck. The place where his jaw met his neck. “Because, if it was Bakugou, I may have to leave you.”

Midoriya snorts as you giggle against his skin.

Bakugou just was not someone he was jealous of or insecure about.

“Should we go ask him?” Midoriya purrs into your ear.

You swear that the pooling heat of your arousal is finally gracing your thighs. You pull away from Midoriya, a sly look to your eye as you pull him towards the ash-blond who is refusing to go and dance. “Let’s ask?”

You wave and smile as you approach Bakugou, Kirishima, and Todoroki. Midoriya squeezing his hand as his obvious embarrassment at you catching his fake. “Hi boys,” You say as you bring Midoriya next to you, nudging him into the free chair at the table. They all greet you back, of course not all were verbal welcomings. “Bakugou, I have a question--”

“Y/n!’

“-- can you watch Midoriya for me? I need to go use the restroom, and well, he’ll destroy the dance floor if left unattended like during high school?”

You don’t wait for a response, choosing instead to wave as you walk away towards the bathroom.

You grin as you pick up your wallet from your table, taking it with you to the restroom.

You walked into the nearest restroom. Staring at your reflection in the mirror for a solid minute before peeing. Flushing and washing your hands, you returned your gaze towards yourself. Then a brilliant idea flashed across your mind.

Your sex life with Midoriya Izuku was not vanilla.

But he would never ever attempt to get frisky in public even if he would tease you as he did earlier. It seemed like you were going to change that finally. Nodding to yourself, your fingers held onto the small pair of panties you wore with the dress. With firm fingers, you slide them down. Grabbing your wallet, you folded up the panties and shoved them in. They would go unnoticed there.

With a final nod of approval, you walked out of the restroom, head high, confidence emitting from your skin.

You were not going to leave without fucking Midoriya in the bathroom and that was final.

As you reentered the ballroom, your eyes focused on your fiance. Said fiance who was now by the drinks talking with Todoroki. Deciding to start things low, you took your phone and sent him a text message.

you: i forgot to mention this earlier, but i thought you looked very hot tonight…

Placing your things back onto the table, you grin as you watch Midoriya pull out his phone and checked the text. His cheeks flushing when Todoroki moved to read it. Midoriya waves him off repocketing his phone as he babbles off.

Oh, how you loved the fact that no matter how confident your fiance was, he was still the same fifteen-year-old high school boy you fell in love with.

You returned to the girls and continued on as if nothing was different.

Your behavior didn’t change, not even in the slightest! Well as long as you didn’t count the fact that you were looking back at your fiance every thirty seconds. Your heart rate racing as he was always looking at you, his green eyes locked on your figure as you danced about.

Midoriya had even come back and danced with you again for a few more songs. Each and every time resulting in you "accidentally" brushing yourself against his crotch. A needy whisper into his ear as he held you close. Hell, at one point your whispers had gotten to him so much that he tripped over his own feet after standing still for more than ten seconds.

How you saw it, you were ready to move on to the final nail in the coffin.

You sauntered over towards Midoriya who was standing with Iida. The two friends chatting as they drank. You smiled in greeting at Iida as your mouth immediately pressed against Midoriya’s ear. Your lips teasing his ear as you spoke.

“I forgot to mention this earlier, but I’m not wearing any panties…”

You pull away looking over at a confused Iida who looked ready to ask his questions, “No worries, Iida-kun! I was telling Midoriya that there were no more chocolate-covered strawberries.” You pout as Iida strikes up a conversation.

While you were paying attention to every word he was saying, Midoriya’s grip on your waist was intoxicating.

“Well, actually.” You interrupt Iida, your hand that was resting against Midoriya’s waist trailing down to his ass. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but I have to go use the restroom!”

You wave goodbye as you walk away praying that Midoriya would either follow you or understand what you meant. You were walking towards the furthest restroom. Something you only knew because Hagakure had complained about it being the one open when she had to pee.

Your eyes glanced behind you. Disappointment flooded your veins as you realized that you hadn’t succeeded. But you did need to check up on your makeup, it had been a bit hot on that dance floor.

Opening the bathroom door, you stepped in and you moved to turn it.

Before you succeeded, the door slammed open.

Your curly-haired fiance stepped in, his face set into an almost scowl as he closed the door as quickly as he had come in. The small click echoing in your ears as your heart rate picked back up. The heat between your thighs aflame as his lips are on yours suddenly. You don’t even have time to tease him about finally giving in.

Your hands don’t even have the time to fist themselves into his jacket as he picks you up. He roughly sets you onto the cold marble counter.

Your heart hammers in your ears as his lips are possessive, lusting, and intense. Your whimpers leaving your throat as his lips pepper down your neck. His teeth making contact with your flesh every so often.

“First, you’re wearing this voluptuous dress and you’re moving around as if you don’t even know it.” Your moan staggers out of your lips as his fingers run up and down the silk dress. “Next, the fucking body chain directing everyone’s eyes to your fucking tits? Are you a slut, y/n? Do you want everyone to be imagining your tits when they’re getting off? And now? You’re telling me you’re not wearing any panties? All night? You’ve been dancing around and moving… were you trying to expose yourself to everyone? Such a fucking whore...” His peppering kisses turn into hisses as his fingers reach your exposed thighs. The rings on his fingers cold against your skin and you arch into his touch. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re trying to get me to fuck you in public…”

You grin as you feel his fingers tease your slit as if trying to make you desperate to sink him into your aching heat.

“I’m sorry,” You moan as he begins to insert the tip of his finger into your wet pussy. You pull out his fingers from under your dress, a triumphant smirk on your face. “I need to fix my makeup. I have a beautiful fiancee waiting for me!”

Slipping off the counter you turn towards the door, unlocking it.

Before you can open it, Midoriya’s pressed sinfully against your back. His hand slamming on the door, and his hard cock rubbing deliciously into your ass. “I guess I’ll have to fucking remind you who you belong to, sweetheart.”

“I don’t belong to anyone.” You breathe as his teeth bite down on your earlobe.

“We’ll see whose name you’re praising to in a few minutes then,” Midoriya promises and you laugh. Your hand snaking behind you to grasp his dick.

“Maybe you’ll be the one moaning my name…”

His hand reaches back out to lock the door. “Unfortunately, only good girls can have their ideas heard.” He growls.

Your eyes widen as you’re back onto the counter. The green sparks of his quirk use making your mouth open in retaliation. He was cheating! However, he steals all words leaving your mouth as he sinks his two fingers into your blazed core.

The heat emitting from his fingers and the cold, cold metal of his rings makes your hands shoot out to hold him for support. A sensuous moan pouring from your mouth as his fingers pump into you. “Fuck, you’re so wet already.” Midoriya groans, his head tilting backward as his fingers move within your walls.

Your head drops back as he continues slamming his fingers within you. The temperature difference between your needy sex and the rings on his fingers is overwhelming.

“‘Zuku…” You gasp, your hips rolling in time with his fingers. “Ohhhh my god!”

“What’s wrong, angel?” Midoriya snickers, his fingers curling within you. Your jaw drops as the sensation build from within you. The rings drag against your inner walls, his fingernails teasing your walls as well. “Do you like my rings?”

Your breathing is so shaky, so irregular you can only nod your head as his fingers work their magic from within you.

“You’re so fucking wet, how long have you been craving me?” Midoriya groans as he moves the skirt of the dress from between your thighs. Revealing your wet throbbing sex to him. He lowers himself to the level of your cunt. His cold breathes of air hitting your heated sex in a way that made you sob. “You really like the cold, huh.” Midoriya chuckles as his hand reaches behind you to turn on the cold water.

His fingers disappear from within you, “Suck.” Midoriya commands you, his fingers thick with your arousal by your lips.

Your mouth opens and he inserts his fingers.

You moan as you taste yourself on his fingers. The salty taste you recognize as Midoriya’s skin overwhelming you. Your swirl your tongue against his fingers. Your cheeks hollowing as you suck every single last drop of your arousal off his fingers.

What you didn’t expect was for his other fingers on his left hand to enter you. They were clumsier, not as trained as his right hand, but the cold metal on the rings once again making you cry out in pleasure as he scissors his fingers.

“Such a naughty girl so worked up and all I’ve used is my fingers.” Midoriya clicks his tongue as he moves his fingers from your mouth. He places them into the running cold water. “Have I ever mentioned how fucking pretty you look with my fingers deep in your pussy?”

“‘Zuku!” You moan in embarrassment and pleasure. While his fingers were magical, you wanted more. You needed more. “P-please I just want your dick.” You mewl as the water turns off.

Your whine even more as his now cold and wet hand hits your heated inner thigh.

This was too much, the feeling of his fingers within your heat. The impossibly cold metal refusing to warm up within you. The desperation within you wanting Midoriya to do nothing but fuck you against this counter. You sit up straighter, your fuzzy mind clear as you unbuckle Midoriya’s belt. It undoes easily, and your mind spins as Midoriya enters his other fingers in you.

Your head drops back as you curse his name.

Four fingers are in you.

Four rings burning against your heated walls.

Your pussy throbs in the sensation as you pant.

“Please!” You cry as your hips rut against his moving fingers. Fighting through the hazy fog in your brain, your slip his pants off, the light fabric dropping to the floor. Your eyes lock on his constricted underwear and your breathing quickens.

You gasp as his fingers leave your sopping cunt as they hook around his underwear. You watch in aching pleasure as his cock springs out, and your thighs tremble at the sight of him. Midoriya has you pinned against the wall. His mouth leaving kisses down your neck. His hot tongue gliding against the metal links on your chest and you moan.

“I can’t believe I’ve been too afraid to do this earlier.” He chuckles against your wet skin. Your eyes shut closed as he pushes his cock into your waiting pussy. The veins in his cock applying more friction to his entrance and you whine. “I’m going to fuck you so well.”

“Yes!”

Midoriya smirks, and his hips pull out slightly before ramming into you. His cock bottoming out into you.

His pace is demanding, your body already very used to what he can do with his length.

Your fingers grabbed onto his flexing biceps and held onto them for dear life as he slammed himself into you. Your hips met his with every thrust, rolling against him, the actions encouraging him to speed up. A small pant escaping his mouth as he picks up his speed.

Your cries aren’t unnoticed as Midoriya presses his mouth against yours, his lips hungry and choppy over your owns. You gasp louder as a particular thrust catches you off guard in terms of speed. Midoriya grins against your mouth, his tongue tracing your bottom lip. Your fingers drag against the fabric of his jacket, how you wished it was your skin he could touch.

“What would we do if someone caught you like this?” Midoriya teases, his breathing heavy against your mouth.

“T-They’d catch you all the same!” You squeak as your pussy clenches against his moving cock. Midoriya curses as well, his face moving to bury into your neck as he continues rocking into you.

He adjusts your position by dragging you against the wall and you moan at the new angle of penetration. The new rhythm making your toes curl against your heels. Uncaring that your makeup will ruin, you grabbed Midoriya by the collar of his shirt and pulled him into a kiss. He kissed you back, the same intense fire in this kiss as every single one. Pushing off the wall your arms wrap around his tensed shoulder and you sink your teeth into the flesh of his neck.

Midoriya curses. The words sending butterflies to your stomach as he bounces you harsher against his length.

Up and down.

Faster.

Up and down.

Harder.

Your cries are almost unnoticed against his mouth and stumble as he places you back on your feet. His hands spin you around and your chest is pressed against the cold marble. You splutter as Midoriya lifts the skirt of your dress and thrusts his cock back into your aching cunt. “I think for someone so desperate to fuck in public, you definitely are not secretive enough to do this.” Midoriya chuckles as his hips continue to slam into you.

Your hands press into the counter, your ass moving back in synch with his crashing hips. Your whines are louder now, no longer drowned out by Midoriya.

“If you wanted me so badly, we could have left early.” Midoriya teases as his hands slide down your thighs.

“I -- fuck -- I didn’t want to leave!” You cry out. Your cunt felt like it was on fire, the crashing waves of pleasure overpowering you. “Go harder, oh god ‘Zuku, don’t fucking stop!”

Midoriya’s hands trailed back up your thighs and as the tip of his cock slams against your back of your walls. His cold fingers press against your throbbing clit. A sharp sob escapes your mouth as you arch off the counter.

Your sobs are constant now, the electrifying pleasure stirring your nerves.

You were so damn close.

“Hey, is y/n okay? Is she crying?” A voice, sounding like Mina asks.

You squeak and Midoriya’s free hand muffles your voice as he shoves his fingers into your mouth.

“S-She’s just a bit sick,” Midoriya calls, his voice smoothing over. “She got a little emotional and started throwing up, she’s okay now.”

Your saliva flows down his fingers, you’re unable to contain your fluids. But despite this, Midoriya continues in his conquest. Your pussy clenching around his cock as you whimper.

“Ah, okay! Do you need me to get some water?”

“Please?”

“On it!”

Midoriya pulls his fingers from your mouth, a snarl in his tone as he speaks to you. “Almost getting caught, sweetheart, that would be embarrassing.”

“P-Please, Izuku, I’m so fucking -- oh my fucking god -- I’m so close!” You splutter, your legs trembling under his control.

“Then come.” He growls, his fingers pinching your clit.

An overwhelming pleasure crashes through you. Your body trembling against his hold as he continues slamming into you. He chases your orgasm, shifting you further against the counter to allow him to speedily crash into you.

His cock stretches you out in a new way, the bulging veins on his cock rubbing a fire against your walls. Midoriya fucks you barbarously, his fingers clenching your ass as you come apart for him. Midoriya, unable to keep a secure head on his shoulder, loses himself within you. His hips snapping forward one last time. A heavy load shooting into your throbbing cunt.

Shaky breathing fills the air as he pulls out of you.

You whine at the lack of him within you, and your knees buckle as he steps back. You hold yourself against the counter as you pant, desperate to find your air again. A whimper on your tongue as you feel your combine cum seeping from your clenching pussy.

“That was amazing.” Midoriya chuckles as he slips back his underwear and pants. You can only watch him through heavy lids as he buckles his belt. “I’ll go find Mina, I think you need to fix your makeup for real now.” He teases as he presses a kiss to your mouth.

“You have my lipstick on your lips…” You mutter as he pulls away.

“I carry around makeup wipes with me for you.” Midoriya chuckles as he pulls out his packet of them. You can only watch with an open mouth as he rubs your lipstick off his mouth and neck. “Now, I have to go find Mina, bye my love!”

[horsyunicorn]

Writer Meme

Tagged by @magewardensurana​ ty!!

What’s your all-time favourite ship?

I’m not sure to be honest. I’ve played mass effect for some years but I only came around to the idea of Kaidan/Ashley (Willenko) two or three years ago. Of course there’s Alexi/Emily but I haven’t written for that really. Kassidas (Kassandra/Brasidas) is good!!

How many works do you have on AO3?

Six. Most are short chapters, but one or two are much longer.

What’s your total AO3 word count?

16420. I tend to write quite long and ramble-y and get bogged down in description, so that 16k is not actually a lot of content. I also struggle with making action short and sharp.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

This is assuming I HAVE 5 top fics. I technically do. I have 6 fics.

dream 24

coffee and cake

dream 26/The Misthios and the Vase

dream 25

dream 75

Do you reply to comments, why or why not?

Yes! I rarely get comments so I cherish them when I can.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

dream 75. It’s about the goddess of war being reincarnated every once in a while, and Kassandra falling for her every single time.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

dream 24. it’s a short and sweet fluff chapter basically about kassandra trying to be the tallest out of all her crewmates who she recruited personally.

Do you write crossovers?

Not properly. I can’t carry through the concept in any long form. I just do snippets and memes.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

yes actually. huge amount of very warranted criticism on my first ever fic. cos it was terrible, and it deserved it.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Not at all. The most I can manage is intense hand holding and significant glances, for the most part.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

nuh-uh. my writing is not that good.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

no. I cannot say that I have.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

nope. And I think if I ever did, my co-author would get tired of me and push me off a waterslide for my uneven worth ethic

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I have a dh novel that is, uh, there, and I also have a dunwall royal academy of natural philosophy college AU fic that is also amazingly unfinished.

What are your writing strengths?

I can be poetic and do full-on purple prose in order to hide the weaknesses in my paragraph construction.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Dialogue and action.

Also, plot. I am very bad at coming up with anything story-wise that is not ripped off from a 90s sci-fi movie somehow

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I don’t have much experience but I like giving the reader enough context or tone to guess the meaning without having to spell out the complete translation. But I’m not that skilled so I limit it to short phrases or single words which can be guessed pretty easily.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter, but it’s the “written in a ratty old notebook and of dubious quality in every single way” kind of fic.

What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

Like just the ones above basically. the shorter ones are better. I really haven’t written that much fic overall.

Tagging:

@sashacore and @eclecticmuses plus @potsticker1234 and anyone else who would like to do this!

[killherfreakout]

i’ve got the touch placebo

elu au / 5.2k words

“You don’t remember a lot of things.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lucas’ voice cracks slightly when he asks, those oceans looking like high tide. Eliott’s heart drops to his stomach at the question. Does he tell him, or does he keep that kiss locked away as the secret they didn’t know they were keeping?

or: Lucas kissed Eliott after a few too many one night; three times Eliott almost brings it up, and the one time he does.

:readmore:

It all started by accident, really. Eliott falling for Lucas, that is. He’s always had a little crush on his best friend, but one night changed everything. 

It all started when Lucas kissed him. But, you see, that’s the problem - that was months ago. Lucas kissed him, and absolutely nothing was different between them. Eliott doesn’t know if Lucas just regrets it and pretends it didn’t happen, or if he’s waiting for Eliott to bring it up, or worse: he doesn’t remember.

Sure, Lucas may have had a few too many that night, but was it really enough to make him forget? Enough to have absolutely no memory of something that completely turned Eliott’s world upside down?

If a drunken kiss was all it really was, Eliott doesn’t know what to do. But if it was more, he wouldn’t know the first thing either.  

Sometimes Eliott thinks he’s got enough love for the both of them, and perhaps that is enough. Or at least he’s trying to convince himself that it is.

*

Eliott is perched on the edge of Emma’s balcony where he slipped out of the party going on inside, opting for some fresh air and a smoke. The gang and the girls are celebrating the end of terminale and Eliott comes to join the fun even though he has another uni exam before he’s finally free. It’s a warm summer night and a slight breeze offers some relief from the muggy air and crowded apartment. The moon keeps him company until he’s joined by another warm body in search of his.

Lucas nearly trips over the lip of the balcony door and giggles at his own misstep. Eliott tries his best not to laugh, but a small chuckle escapes, earning him a retort from the other boy.

“Hey! Are you laughing at me?” Lucas asks after he tips back the rest of the bottle of vodka he’s holding, his voice higher than normal and cracking towards the end. It’s way too endearing for Eliott that he smiles around the rolled paper between his lips.

He doesn’t respond, and next thing he knows, Lucas lunges forward and snatches the joint right out of his hand in retaliation. Eliott looks at him in disbelief and Lucas has a devilish grin on his face, again way too endearing to be taken seriously. 

Lucas tilts his chin and chest out with pride and brings the joint to his lips. He takes a long hit, breathing in deep and feeling the strength of the weed. He coughs and hands the joint back to its owner as he recovers.

“That is good shit, fuck,” Lucas adds when he regains his breath. “And expensive, I bet.”

Eliott does one of his signature shrugs. “I know a guy” is all he says to that.

Lucas scoffs at his smug reply and comes to join him on the edge of the balcony. He sits on the ledge with his back against the wall and hugs his legs close to his chest. Eliott’s heart skips a beat at how small he looks.

Lucas unwraps his arms and reaches one out to Eliott, a gap between his first and second fingers in a silent plea for the joint again. Eliott obliges and transfers it to him, hands touching for a fleeting moment - the weed is nothing in comparison to the high he gets from moments like this.

There’s a wrinkle in Lucas’ brow when he notices something. The joint in his hand points to Eliott’s, specifically a faint smudge of black on his right hand. 

“Otteli strikes again?” Lucas is amused at himself and Eliott tries not to indulge him. “I’m best friends with a famous urbex artist, I might have to use that as a pick up line someday.”

The words cut deep coming from him. Sometimes Eliott forgets about his enormous crush on his best friend because everything is so easy with them, but other times - like this - it’s hard to forget. Eliott hides behind the smoke, hoping his face doesn’t give him away.

“I‘m not sure how effective that will be, but...” he raises his hands in acquiescence. 

“Of course it will work!” Lucas’ voice is wet and nasaly and still fucking adorable. “I mean, you’re basically the French Banksy.”

“I wish,” Eliott laughs. “They’re rich and not just tagging places with their spirit animal.” He picks at his cuticles and stares at the remnants of spray paint on his skin, suddenly insecure and words sounding more bitter than he planned.

Something changes on Lucas’ face. “Your tag is fucking cool!” His face goes back to before, features softened by the weed and alcohol aglow in the city lights and embers of the joint. 

Eliott’s heart keeps skipping a beat at every compliment, but especially at the adorable declaration of the love of his silly signature raccoon tag.

“And need I remind you that you’re rich? I mean,” Lucas pinches the joint between his thumb and forefinger, raising it to prove his point.

Lucas hops down from the ledge and stumbles a bit; he finds the vodka bottle again and frowns when he realizes he already emptied it. 

“I may need to marry rich, what with the way my bac went, to be honest.” Lucas is walking across the balcony, bringing the heel of one shoe in front of the toes of the other, wobbling with each step.

He looks extremely focused even though his movements are lazy and slow. And suddenly he gasps as a lightbulb goes off in his head, face lighting up -  both Lucas and Eliott’s. “I know! I’ll just marry you if it doesn’t work out. There, problem solved.”

And no amount of warning could prepare Eliott for a sentence like that coming out of Lucas’ mouth. This time his heart drops straight down to the street two stories below.

Lucas nearly faceplants when he steps on his own shoelace, but Eliott slides off the ledge in time to catch him before he falls. They lock eyes for what feels like the first and only time ever; Lucas’ intense, big, blue doe eyes meeting his and quite literally steal his breath away.

Lucas retreats from their embrace for another hit, the joint burning shorter and shorter.

Eliott sputters, trying to think of a way to change the subject before he melts into a puddle. “We won’t be getting married if you keep smoking all of my weed,” he tries as a comeback. 

Lucas looks up at him like a deer in headlights or a kid caught with a hand in the cookie jar. He looks down at the joint that has about one hit left in it, then that devilish look grows on his face once again.

Eliott swears that time stops just for them as he watches every move Lucas makes like it’s at half speed. The joint is closed between Lucas’ bitten lips, and suddenly Eliott feels the smoke in his lungs when the other boy leans forward and presses their lips together.

It’s so sudden and unexpected that it makes Eliott’s mouth open wider in a gasp, and Lucas takes it as an invitation to test the waters. He slips a tongue into Eliott’s open mouth, and Eliott thinks he is in both heaven and hell. 

Eliott instinctively reciprocates the kiss until he gets a grip and tastes the alcohol on Lucas’ tongue, reminding him of the fact that Lucas is not sober enough to warrant this. He pulls back, cheeks flushed, but Lucas looks unaffected - like nothing earth-shattering just happened.

Eliott’s phone rings in his pocket; turns out Idriss left his keys at the apartment and needs Eliott to let him in.

Lucas notices the interruption and, with a gravelly voice, says, “Sorry about the weed,” before stepping inside, tripping on the threshold again.

Eliott stares at the moon high in the sky who was witness to his entire world being flipped upside down. He takes a deep breath and walks down the stairs to retrieve his heart from the ground. 

1. 

Eliott is sitting on the dock of the lake with his feet dipping into the crystal blue water below, weight held up by his arms outstretched behind him. The remaining droplets on his tanning skin quickly evaporate into the warm summer air, leaving a cool sensation in their wake. 

There’s some shouting and splashing from the far side of the lake where Basile, Arthur, and Yann are jumping off the neighbor’s dock and trampoline. Eliott had his fun with them earlier and went for a cooldown on his own while he watched the guys perform backflip after backflip.

The usual suspects have all traveled to Arthur’s beach house to kick off the gang’s last summer before they go separate ways for university. The girls are here too; they went inside to fix dinner for everyone while the boys spent the sun’s dying hours out on the water.

Lucas is swimming his way back over to Arthur’s dock and Eliott sits up in anticipation of his return. 

It’s been a total of 72 hours since the night of the party. The night that the love of Eliott’s life and best friend of over 10 years had kissed him. Not so accidentally, but also not quite on purpose.

He hadn’t even had a full conversation with Lucas since that night - the day after the other boy had the world’s worst hangover, the next Eliott was taking his last final exam of the semester, and then they were at the lake. Lucas had fallen asleep against the window for most of the car ride and every other waking moment was full of Basile’s ill-timed jokes and Emma’s ramblings over her recent Tinder dates. 

In other words, there was no appropriate time or place to bring up the situation. No opportunity to ask, hey, remember when you kissed me haha? And Eliott didn’t want to say it like that, so nonchalant and in sing-song with a poke to the ribs. Because it meant something to him, more than he ever thought a drunken kiss could, and because it would kill him to make Lucas think that it meant anything less. 

It’s like that night Lucas gave him this enormous heavy feeling but in a physical form - held it in his hands and said here, hold this and left, but not without Eliott’s heart. And Eliott was left holding on to it, this thing he couldn’t quite find the word or feeling for, and a hole where his heart should be. And it’s softened now, melted, turned to liquid and still losing shape. And with every glance and hidden smile more and more slips from his hands. 

Eliott is violently brought back to his senses when everything in his vision is darkened by the shadow of Lucas climbing up the ladder of the dock and blocking the setting sun. Eliott’s eyes involuntarily rake down the boy before him, all sun-soaked skin and water dripping from every pore. He catches himself after a second too long, obvious even under the sunglasses he has on. He tilts his head back up to Lucas standing at the edge of the dock - taller than him for once - and the sight makes Eliott’s insides shift. 

Eliott’s eyes adjust to the lack of direct sunlight, squinting up at him. He watches as Lucas brings both of his hands through his wet locks, putting his skin on display as the water that Eliott swam in returns to the air, reflecting what’s left of the day’s rays as they go. Eliott feels a shiver run down his spine - be it at the sight in front of him or the now dry surface of his own skin.

“You coming?”

Before he realizes, there’s a hand being offered to him. Eliott’s brain is a few steps behind and he takes the hand when it catches up. Lucas pulls him up and he’s back to being the taller one, although he still feels at Lucas’ mercy. 

Lucas leads the way back to the house, leaving wet footprints on the dock and concrete of the patio. Eliott follows and uses the prints as relief from the scorching surface. Lucas grabs the towel hanging on the patio chair, rubs it into his wet hair, then lets the damp material hang around his neck. 

And there it is, finally: a moment where he could bring it up. A chance to give back the heavy, shifting feeling he’s been holding since. Ask him if he remembers, if he meant it, if he regrets it. The shapeless thing he carries starts to move again, starts to form into something akin to the shape he was given. He can give it back. 

Eliott stands there looking at Lucas, eyes flicking down to the lips he can’t stop thinking about on his own. They’re red and chapped now, a product of sun and salt. He holds in a breath and forces his eyes up to Lucas’, which are darting around the patio looking for something. 

The moment is there and then it’s gone - and the thing starts to slip yet again, just as the water had off of Lucas’ back. 

“Hey, did you bring any chapstick, by chance?” Lucas asks when he can’t find what he’s looking for.

That’s another thing that happens sometimes: Eliott thinks about something and the next minute Lucas brings it up, or vise versa. Like noticing his chapped lips conjured Lucas to search for relief. 

“Uh, yeah.” Eliott walks over to the bedroom he and Lucas and Arthur share through the back door and returns with it. 

He hands it over to Lucas; the gesture feels strangely intimate given the context of Eliott’s feelings toward him, the context that their lips have touched now. It feels coded with something more than a favor for a friend, and hurts more than it should. 

“Thanks,” Lucas says before removing the cap and pushing the balm onto the split skin. 

Eliott can imagine the minty balm stinging the cracks in the other boy’s lips and swears he can feel the same tingly sensation on his own, even without having used it all day. 

It’s entirely innocent, but it gets Eliott’s heartbeat to quicken at the thought of using the chapstick after him. It doesn’t have to mean anything - Lucas borrowing his chapstick - but it does. It’s as if the tube of balm is a placebo for the real thing - having his lips pressed to Lucas’ again - but still just as effective. 

And technically another moment presents itself: the topic of lips, specifically both of theirs, sharing something like the lip balm. 

Think, Eliott, think. He could casually comment on the party, ask how bad the hangover was, anything to get the ball rolling. But the second Lucas returns his gaze and places the tube in his hands again, all rational thought leaves his mind at once. 

The silence is starting to grow uncomfortable until Lucas breaks it.

“How was your exam, by the way?” He shoves some hair behind his ear and rubs his lips together to spread the product.

“Uh, it was fine,” Eliott answers, watching the movement. Something blooms in his chest at Lucas asking about it, the genuine curiosity present on his golden face.

Say something, anything about the party. 

He gets an idea. 

“You know—” He stops when Lucas puts the towel back on the chair to dry. The remaining sunlight hits just right, the balm on his lips shiny and intoxicating. Eliott swallows and starts again. “You know, if college doesn’t work out I could always marr—” 

“Lucas, there you are!” Arthur shouts as the trio come walking through the patio to get inside.

The look on the younger boy’s face turns bright at the sight of his friends, high points of his cheeks dusted pink with sun and stars sprinkled on his nose in the form of freckles. Yann shoves his shoulder and the skin turns white before returning to the pinkish tan. The skin is soon covered in cotton when Lucas shrugs his shirt on. 

Lucas bites the corner of his bottom lip and gives Eliott a glance over his shoulder when he follows the guys inside - a glance that could be saying something, but Eliott’s not sure what.

Eliott makes his way to the kitchen and pours some drinks and thanks the girls for preparing the meal. Everyone sits around the counter and some at the table nearby; Lucas takes the seat across from him. 

There’s chatter between the girls and the gang that Eliott feels slightly disconnected from, but he focuses on filling his empty stomach with food. 

“Eli, what were you going to say, outside?” Lucas inquires, not in a whisper but not loud enough to draw attention towards them.

And there’s another moment, right there for the taking. Lucas literally asks about it - possibly without even intending to. 

Lucas looks at him while taking another bite then puts his fork down to take his napkin and wipe the pasta sauce - and chapstick - off his mouth. 

Eliott’s chest feels tight again, the heavy feeling still there but no longer physically. No way he can hold it and give it back now. The moment is gone like the sun for the day, only leaving what it has touched behind.

The placebo burns a hole in the pocket of his boardshorts. “It was nothing.”

2.

Eliott hates drinking. He’s not a fan of the taste of beer, wine is okay only if it’s expensive, and liquor is gross unless mixed with so much sugar that makes the hangover even worse than straight alcohol.

He finds himself in a gay bar with Lucas celebrating Mika’s half-birthday because Mika decided that ‘6 months is too long’ to celebrate.

It has now been two months since the kiss and neither of them have said a word about it. The unnamed thing Lucas dropped into his hands has vanished, no way of returning it to its owner. Every day is harder to pretend and even harder to speak up. 

The birthday boy is already on his way to being wasted living it up on the dance floor and Eliott sits next to Lucas at the bar. Lucas is on his second beer and Eliott has a melting vodka tonic in front of him. The DJ takes a short break and the music changes to quieter radio jams through the house speakers instead of the mixing table.

“So?” Lucas asks behind his beer bottle, tilting his chin in the direction of a handsome guy across the bar. “Aren’t you gonna go over there and talk to him?”

Eliott looks at the sweaty glass on the countertop and quickly glances over to the him Lucas refers. He picks up the glass and raises it in the guy’s direction as a thank you and sips the thin black straw. It’s strong but watery and makes his lips pucker.

“Isn’t he the one who’s supposed to make the move?” Eliott answers Lucas’ question with one of his own and flags the bartender for water instead.

Lucas points to the drink. “Well, technically, he already did.” Eliott huffs. 

The music picks up again as the DJ puts on another mix, volume even louder than before, or perhaps it’s just loud in comparison to the radio.

Eliott raises his voice and leans into Lucas’ ear. “What if I’m not interested?”

When he pulls back, they share a look similar to the one at Arthur’s lakehouse with the same indescribable meaning. There’s also something different this time in the way Lucas intentionally keeps his gaze. 

It’s dark on this side of the club but when the flashing lights hit the side of Lucas’ face he notices the contrast of his crystal eyes and his blown pupils. Eliott thinks if he stares any longer he’ll drown in their oceans.

To stay afloat, Eliott turns back toward the mirrored wall behind the bar and grabs his water to sip. The second the liquid touches his tongue he realizes it’s not the water he reached for, but the vodka soda. He winces in reaction and shoves the glass toward the lip of the counter out of his reach.

He can feel Lucas’ eyes on him and then in the direction of the sender of the drink. Eliott gathers the courage to look again, but he shouldn’t have - the determined scowl of his brow hurts more than the back of his throat when he puts together what Lucas plans to do.

Lucas reaches for the drink at the edge of the bar and brings it to his lips, tongue darting out to catch the thin black straw he closes his lips around, downing as much of the concoction as he can stomach. 

Still looking at the guy across the bar, Lucas says, “Then I’ll tell him you say thanks for the drink.” 

Eliott’s soul is soaked when he sees the blue of Lucas' glance as he makes his way over to the other end of the bar.

Over the next two hours Eliott nurses his glass of water from his seat and tortures himself by watching Lucas dance dangerously close to the stranger that hit on him with a new drink in hand.

Eliott directs his attention to the glass Lucas emptied when it gets too much to bear. The black straw sits in the glass of ice staring him down and he gets a new urge to drink the remnants of alcohol from it. Perhaps it’s a new prescription of placebo that would work better than the drink itself.

Eliott steps out for a cigarette later, in need of the fresh air more than the smoke in his lungs, but it gives him something to do instead of sulking in a room of dancing strangers. 

Lucas comes to find him minutes after, no handsome stranger on his arm. 

“Okay. My head hurts so bad I can’t stay a second longer,” he says instead of a greeting, words slurred and movements wobbly. 

“Where’s Mika?” Eliott asks, helping him stand up straighter.

Lucas giggles. “He went home with a guy like two hours ago.”

“Oh,” he hadn’t even noticed. “What about the guy and the drink?” Eliott clenches his jaw and looks around expecting him to show up.

Lucas giggles again, and the sound makes Eliott’s heart flutter - it flutters then stops at what he says next.

“Don’t worry, Demaury, no one is coming between our eventual marriage.”

Eliott trips on a bump in the sidewalk and Lucas falls into his side. 

And just like that, he’s back at the lake again – the sting of a moment there and gone – and he’s sinking deeper and deeper.

3.

Everything seems to happen by accident ever since the night on the balcony. 

Eliott hadn’t even planned on going back to Lucas’ flat, but after the party was shut down prematurely, Lucas asked if he wanted to come inside for another beer. And it’s not like Eliott had the heart to say no. He definitely didn’t plan to stay this late, but he also doesn’t want to leave.

“I thought you said you were going to lay off the weed now that you’re ‘taking your studies seriously.’” Eliott grins as he watches Lucas light the joint hanging from his lips. 

“I don’t remember saying that,” says Lucas, leaning his head back on the couch and releasing smoke from his lips. 

His pursed lips carve out the hollows of his cheekbones and plants a rather dirty image in Eliott’s mind. The movement also makes his hair bounce a little; it’s messy and fluffy from when he shrugged his hoodie off when they came inside. Eliott has to busy his hands with the frayed edge of his jeans so as to not reach out and touch.

Eliott pivots from his stare and instead laughs at Lucas’ nonchalance and the irony that he said that while high.

Lucas’ eyes stay closed for a moment before slowly blinking them back open. His long lashes fan over his cheeks like that of a renaissance painting as he’s bathed in a muted golden light from the kitchen. The eyes underneath them look tired, probably due to the lack of sleep that comes with the first year of university Eliott knows too well. The oceans of blue aren’t any less breathtaking, though; Eliott has to look away before he drowns in them once again.

Eliott takes a sip from the plastic cup he filled with water once it was empty of beer. He feels his heart shift and twists in his chest like it does when he looks at Lucas too long, performing a somersault when he feels the ghost of those lips on his. 

Eliott’s words just slip out, his mumbling echoes in the plastic pressed to his lips. “Yeah, you don’t remember a lot of things.” 

It’s almost quiet enough that he could have gotten away with it, but not quite. He can tell he’s been caught by the furrow of Lucas’ brow and the confused tilt of his head - which is way more endearing than it should be.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lucas’ voice cracks slightly when he asks, those oceans looking like high tide. Eliott’s heart drops to his stomach at the question. Does he tell him, or does he keep that kiss locked away as the secret they didn’t know they were keeping?

Lucas slowly wets his lips and worries one between his teeth in anticipation. It’s like a knife to Eliott’s gut, piercing through his heart where it rests there. 

Eliott scrambles for an answer, panicking and lacking the courage to tell the truth. “I mean maybe this is all going to your head.” He makes a vague gesture to the smoke wafting the air between them. Not like he meant anything else.

Lucas takes a page out of his book and gives him a one-shouldered shrug before sitting up and putting out the joint in the ashtray on the coffee table. He takes a moment like he’s trying to decide his next move, then gets up and runs a hand through his hair. God, that hair.

He goes to the kitchen and cleans up, leaving Eliott to sit in the awkward space he left. Eliott takes his phone out of his pocket and checks his notifications, noticing it’s already almost 4am. As in, no buses back to his place at this hour.

“Maybe you’re right. I’m super tired so,” Lucas turns his body in the direction of his bedroom indicating he’s going to turn in.

“Yeah, um,” is all Eliott can find in response, shifting on the couch to settle into a position for sleep.

“Come on, Eliott, I’m not letting you sleep on the couch.”

“No, it’s fine—”

“You’re literally too tall and don’t even fit on that couch. Come on,” Lucas insists, cracking a smile.

And what is he supposed to do, deny him? 

So they fall asleep in Lucas’ bed — without bringing up the kiss. Eliott doesn’t know how much longer he can breathe under the pressure. 

+1

Eliott startles awake with Lucas too close for comfort; they’re facing each other in the middle of the bed even though there’s plenty of room on either side.

Lucas is wearing an expression he’s never seen before, although he never seems to be able to read him these days. Eliott wants to ask about it, but gets lost in those eyes again, looking tired but somehow refreshed like he’s been awake for a while.

And Lucas does that thing again, bringing up what he’s thinking without fail.

“We’re okay, right?” Lucas asks softly, like the words burn on his tongue as he says them.

Eliott studies his face again, an openness to it that wasn’t there before – like he wants to talk about it seriously this time, no more dancing around.

“Yeah, of course,” he takes a breath and lowers his tone, matching the sincerity of Lucas’, “Why wouldn’t we be?”

 Lucas twists his mouth and answers, “I just, I feel like things have been weird between us since Mika’s half-birthday. Is there— did I do something?”

And do something he did - he brought up their wedding talk on the way home and basically confirmed he remembers that night at Emma’s, and maybe the kiss. But Eliott can’t find it in him to ask, but can’t stand not asking any longer.

Lucas looks expectant now, an adorable wrinkle forms on his forehead and those eyes are crystal clear. If it’s his eyes that pull him in, it’s his lips that pull him under.

Eliott removes his hand from under his pillow and slowly raises it near Lucas’ face resting in front of him. Eliott’s gaze is drawn to those lips again, the ones he can’t ever seem to stop thinking about in the phantom touch from months ago. Lucas’ tongue peeks out to wet them followed by teeth trapping one, which makes Eliott sink further. 

His hand tenderly brushes Lucas’ rosy cheek and thumb rests near the corner of his mouth, the touch causing Lucas’ breath to hitch and release the pillowy flesh from his teeth.

Eliott quickly looks up at Lucas again, only to find the other boy’s eyes trained on Eliott’s lips now. It’s enough confirmation Eliott needs to do what he’s been wanting to since the day at the lake. And he doesn’t want to swim around it anymore, it’s finally time to reveal the truth.

He delicately strokes his thumb over Lucas’ red bitten bottom lip. “You really don’t remember?” 

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Lucas speechless before, at least not like this. Perhaps absentmindedly Eliott strokes his lips again, and it’s the closest thing to a kiss he’s had since the one on the balcony. It’s too much and not enough, and also the closest placebo to the real thing.

Eliott suddenly gets nervous that Lucas has no idea what he’s talking about, and that the breath caught in the other boy’s throat is not a sign of remembrance but of surprise to the incredibly intimate touch without the context of that night.

He hopes he hasn’t misread Lucas’ mind, for that would be the first time they’ve been on different wavelengths in years. Sure this whole fiasco was push and pull of avoiding the truth, but there was always some unspoken understanding present even so. Eliott feels he’s in too deep and Lucas is just floating, too much darkness and pressure between them. 

Eliott retracts his hand like he’s caught flame, silently begging for forgiveness as he meets Lucas’ eyes again. 

And this time it’s Eliott who can’t breathe. Lucas inches even closer, eyes flicking back down to Eliott’s lips once more. He whispers hotly in the limited space between their lips. “Make me remember.”

After days and weeks and months of waiting, dying, drowning, Eliott gets his fix as Lucas presses his sinful lips in a kiss – a completely and intentionally purposeful kiss. A kiss that pulls Eliott up so quickly he gets the bends, muscles and bones aching from the speed of his ascent, head and heart feeling lighter than ever.

“Lucas—” Eliott sighs, everything this means dawning on him.

“I know. Me too,” Lucas interrupts before locking Eliott’s lips again.

They indulge in the taste of each other with nothing to hold them down, eager and wanting like all kisses should be. He’ll never have to refill the script for placebo ever again, too busy getting high on the real thing.

[nevaryadl]

Ermac and Shang Tsung speak on gender cw: mentioned gender dysphoria, briefly mentioned body horror (Mileena’s Tarkatan features), long post

“Come now, there is no reason to act like a sullen child, my creation,” Shang Tsung said dully.

Ermac still held a hand over their amulet. It was good that his creation knew that the amulet was key to their existence and power and that they needed to protect it. But the fact that their creation was guarding it from him? A very odd and almost troubling notion. But even disregarding that, he was not examining their amulet today, but rather doing a sort of check up on their body, given its ‘unnatural’ creation and total reliance on not only their magic, but also his own magic.

“I need to make sure that you, physically, are healthy, Ermac,” Shang Tsung said. “I will not be examining your amulet today.”

Ermac remained statue still for a moment, glowing green eyes focused on him with intense scrutiny, before their hand slowly fell away from their amulet. Seeing that they were cooperating finally, Shang Tsung beckoned to the bed sitting off to the side of his workshop, meant for his living creations specifically. Ermac, still very much acting like a reluctant and sullen child, floated over and perched themself on the edge, eyes glued to Shang Tsung as he came over.

“Your robes are different,” Shang Tsung noted as he imbued magic into his hands and took up one of Ermac’s arms. He needed to feel the flow of magic in their body to make sure that it was keeping them alive and fresh. He could only scold himself for making Ermac's 'life' so reliant on his own that he needed to do this for them.

"We did not like our other robes," Ermac said, sounding like they were going to say something else but quickly cutting themself off and glaring at the ground.

"What was wrong with them?" Shang Tsung asked.

Ermac was a tool, a creature that he could forever tap into for his soul magic. While it was entirely possible for them to have garnered a personality and all that came with it... it was surprising to hear Ermac admit that they did or did not like something. Especially something so... trivial as clothing. They, like many non-Outworld native people, had comments about the sticky, humid heat of Outworld, but... Shang Tsung did not recall them saying much else. If anything, Ermac's comments seemed echos of others, a pitiful attempt to seem like they had something to them as a person. Persons. However Ermac could be classified.

Ermac glared at the floor harder. They wore a mask now, Shang Tsung noted. Covering their face? How odd, he remembered giving them a handsome enough visage to warrant any distaste in it. Shao wanted his creations to be 'beautiful', to make them seem 'normal' and blend in. Meat was not but Meat was also a... failure to say the least. His budding creation that Shao had dubbed 'Mileena' was going to be beautiful like Kitana, or at least before the Tarkatan mutations would mutilate her jaw. Skarlet, another idea of his, he planned to make striking and beautiful as well.

"Ermac," Shang Tsung scolded.

Ermac's glowing gaze met his defiantly and my, was Ermac hitting something of a teenager phase? How odd to watch this thirty some odd year looking creature act like a sullen child!

"Ermac, shall we make this an examination of your soul amulet? Obviously one is making you act out," Shang Tsung said with a hard authoritative edge.

His goading worked, Ermac's fingers coming up to their amulet to put flesh between it and Shang Tsung. They glared for a moment longer, before they sighed and looked at the floor.

"We do not enjoy so much of our body being on display," Ermac said.

"The uncovering clothing is necessary with Outworld's heart. I am sure that you have noticed that our Emperor wears... little at all?" Shang Tsung offered. He had long given up on the physical examination. They were healthy as far as he could tell. This? This was far more interesting.

"We... we do not enjoy the sight of our body," Ermac muttered.

"Why? Is there something wrong with it?" Shang Tsung said, eyes roaming their form to look for abnormalities. Again, his creations had a noted remark of beauty, Ermac's as well, even given their use in his life.

"We... it does not make us feel 'good' in our own skin. It feels better to conceal it," Ermac said, obviously struggling to put their feelings into words.

"Does not feel good? You're physically healthy, whatever can you be talking about?"

"We cannot explain it. The sight of our body upsets us. It goes hand in hand with people calling us 'he' and 'him' and 'male'. It's... it is all wrong," Ermac snapped angrily.

"Ah."

"Ah," Ermac mimicked back.

"My dear creation, you are experiencing something called gender dysphoria, something I did not think you capable of feeling since it's such a complex thing and you are still very... 'young'," Shang Tsung said, marveled by this. Ermac, doubting their very own gender and how they presented. It would seem, when he was addressing them in the plural sense to address all the budding number of souls, it was also a correct pronoun to address them as.

"We do not like it," Ermac bristled.

"Yes well. I am afraid the only 'remedy' to this is to turn dysphoria into euphoria and embrace your gender and us finding ways to make you more comfortable in your own body," Shang Tsung said, leaving them to go over to where he kept a pipe. He liked to smoke as he thought and Ermac was giving him a lot to think about.

"How would you know any of this? About any of it," Ermac asked, the hard edge of anger there.

“Please, my creation, my gender is… fluid,” Shang Tsung said, reaching his arms above his head to stretch out his stiff sides and hold his falling hair out of the way. Also make sure that his body was fully on display as his form changed at will. He had many at this point and many that he could hold for a moment. Shao Kahn, Sindel, Kitana, the inner royal court, the subjects and the people he saw on the street when he went out into disguise. Their many shapes and sizes and genders.

“I have lived far too many lives in far too many bodies, absorbed far too many souls think in manners of binary or absolutes. I take any form and I present myself in any manner and my gender can be anything I desire. I can be any shape with any label. But even without using those, I can use whatever label that I feel fits for myself at a time. Because my gender is fluid and my shape will not stop that," Shang Tsung explained before returning to his most used form. Ermac seemed to regard him with slightly less wariness than before now, at least. "So, my creation, that is how I 'know about it' because I once too experienced the same sensations as you. But I turned that dispair into love for who I am, unrepentant, though admittedly knowing magic to change my form has helped and it did take a number of years to do so."

Ermac said nothing. But that steely gaze turned towards to look at their hands instead, their dark brow lifting slightly from the suspicious frown.

"... I will speak with the tailors about outfitting you with a number more of covering robes. You cannot change shape like I can, your body was specially made to allow the flow of your souls and the addition of many more. But, we can still make you comfortable. I suppose, if you so desired it, we could also see about making minor changes to your body..."

"The robes will be enough, Shang Tsung," Ermac said. But their voice was softer.

"Very well, my creation," Shang Tsung hummed, taking up and lighting up his pipe. When the sweet tobacco filled his lungs, he turned back to his creation, giving them a nod and motioning towards the door with his pipe. "You are healthy as can be, my examination is over. You're free to go."

Ermac nodded, righting and floating off the bed and drifting towards the door. They paused at it, before looking back at him.

"Thank you."

Shang Tsung merely nodded, knowing words might remove what little budding affection he might have distilled into his creation today, and they were quickly gone.

"Ermac, you are perhaps my most fascinating 'child' yet," Shang Tsung hummed to himself. "I wonder how you will continue to grow."