#really hate when people take a “it's just anxiety” stance like sorry but it's not ��just” anxiety

[thornheartless]

I would like to go one day without feeling self conscious :(

[nana-au]

barista coworker!yuji drabble

barista coworker!yuji who instantly makes you feel welcomed when you first start. he hands you a brand new apron and nametag he already scribbled your name on - blushing when he realizes you can't read his handwriting. (he can't quite understand why, but he suddenly feels really nervous).

barista coworker!yuji who is also your trainer. he is so patient and always makes sure to cheer when you make a drink right. while teaching you how to make the whipped cream, he accidentally ends up exploding one of the canisters after putting the lid on wrong; the sweet mixture of vanilla and heavy cream ending up all over the both of you, causing him to profusely apologize. he hands you a rag to clean off your now dirty apron and you can't stop giggling at what happened. yuji is so thankful you find it funny, laughing along with you while cleaning himself off. after the counters and walls are clean, he goes back to showing you how to date them. you notice while he's talking that he still has a white dot of cream on his face - so you pause his explanation by taking your thumb and wiping the sticky liquid off his cheek. his eyes go wide from the touch of your hand on his face. "sorry! you still had some on your face from earlier," you tell him and he stutters out a thank you.

barista coworker!yuji who easily becomes your favorite person to work with. as time passes yuji and you are each other's favorite coworkers. you both get visibly giddy upon seeing each other's names on the schedule for the day - often goofing off in the back or ignoring customers while talking to each other. some days you bring in homemade treats for yuji to take home and he ends up sacrificing his entire lunch break to pick up your favorite meal for your break as a thank you.

barista coworker!yuji who is always smiling and laughing. you don't think its possible for him to be in a bad mood - even during the most brutal rushes. some days his never-ending optimism still isn't enough to keep your anxiety at bay and so as your shift lead, yuji will send you to the back to calm down when he notices that you're overwhelmed. it doesn't matter if he has to do two positions at once, he hates seeing the stress of the job get to you.

barista coworker!yuji that stands up for you when customers are rude. he remains calm but is firm in his stance that no one is allowed to talk to the barista's that way. (especially his favorite barista - but no one else needs to know that part). yuji knows you well enough at this point to understand how sensitive you are, catching your eyes in his and patting your hand while telling you to ignore people like that. "if you want off of the window, please let me know," he tell you. he just wants you to be comfortable.

barista coworker!yuji who tries not to make it obvious how much he favors you. he can't help it nor can he help the giddy feeling he gets inside every time he sees your face.

barista coworker!yuji who makes work fun, even on the worst of days. you didn't think it was possible to enjoy going to work until you met him.

...been having quite a few rough shifts at work so i wrote this to cope lol.

[azalea-romanoff]

HAPPY AUTISM AWARENESS DAY!

First: happy autism awareness day to all my mun/mods with autism or who have characters with autism. (in my case, it's both!)

So in honour of Autism Awareness Day and month, I'd like to tell you all about my levels of autism <3

Tics and Fidgets: I'm on the spectrum such that I have a lot of tics and fidgets. Usually it's the repititions which feel nice, and it can often annoy others. I have a tendency to: click my tongue, snap my fingers, flap my hands, rock back and forth, and i make popping sounds. the more subtle tics are pulling my hair, picking my fingernails.

Poor Eye contact: Poor eye contact with me is only with people i don't know or during stressful situations. like if i'm in a meeting with Nick Fury, i'll be fine. but if i'm greeting new agents? hell no. (//ooc: i can talk to my class teacher just fine, but with maybe the delivery man, a cashier, i can't look them in the eyes.).

Abnormal Posture: ...as an agent, this is a huge no-no. the only reason i got the job is because my abnormal posture is literally me just keeping my fists clenched at all times, and keeping my left foot a bit more in front of the other. a tense fighting stance if you will. Convenient!

Anxiety: Shockingly, it's low! I only get anxious in places which are too loud or too far from home. loud places make me really anxious because it means i have too many thoughts in my head and too many things to process at a time. and being deaf, too, with hearing aids, it makes it 100x tougher. Sorry, but Azalea Romanoff-Maximoff isn't the girl you take to a party or a club.

Social Difficulty: I have moderately high social difficulty. as in, i have trouble communicating my thoughts when in big groups, and making friends is a bit...daunting as a task. And sometimes i miss on non-verbal cues like sarcasm, subtle joking, even a few metaphors here and there. So iF YOU NEED A SPECIFIC BIRTHDAY GIFT, TELL ME TO MY FACE. DON'T HINT IT-? I WILL LITERALLY NOT GET YOUR POINT.

Noise Sensitivity: ...have you met me? i am VERY sensitive to noise. Vacuum cleaners, power drills, gunshot sounds (//ooc: movies, especially), someone typing loudly on their laptop, so many of these day-to-day sounds drive me to a meltdown sometimes because it's just so annoying.

Abnormal/Flat Speech: Nope. Most people can tell how i'm feeling by my voice, except in situations where i'm confused on how to react. like if someone says they're pregnant, i'll just say 'oh, nice.' like, are you happy or sad or like-? eH???

Fixations: I have plenty. But my biggest ones? Top Three: Animals, History, Space. iF i get bored, i will literally talk about this for hours, and dare you show even an iota of interest in the same, my friend you're gonna be there a WHILE.

Depression: only on sensory overload days, or on days where i randomly get sad. a result of the anxiety, honestly. i think wayyyyy too many 'what if' scenarios.

Aggression: And finally, I'm not a very aggressive person. Only if i'm very overstimulated, if i'm not being heard, or if i'm just having a bad day in general, i might break a pencil or two. maybe throw a few books down a shelf.

BONUS: soooo i hate the colour yellow or anything that is yellow. like, i haven't ever touched a banana. my favourite colour is red, and my favourite animal is the panda. i hate the feeling of shag carpets and i don't like the feeling of nylon on skin. i don't like the scratchiness of yarn and i don't like the sound of chalk on a chalkboard. i do like the hum of an air conditioner though, and looking outside a window helps calm me down.

SO that's all about my autism! I hope i made you all aware! Reach out to any fellow autistic people you may know, and do find out about their fixations, if they're non-verbal or verbal. accept them for who they are, don't try and fix them.

autism isn't a disease. our minds are just wired differently. if you can figure out how a complex video game works within 24 hours, how hard can a person be?

🤟 love you all!

bellow is my autism spectrum evaluation results (mod's) for people who are close to me, like @moongirlwidow @wandabug @supermilkshakebanana @nevaeh-daughterofvalcarol @capt-carter-mostly-official @esmerxyaugusta and @pietro-maximoff-official <3

[rouge-fauna]

rsd is both common in adhd and autism also disliking self diagnosed people is weird. Not sure if you are aware of this but the dsm-5 is flawed for instance until 2014, professional psychologists and psychiatrists believed adhd couldn’t even be diagnosed if someone had autism and vice versa, psychologists didn’t believe dyscalculia was a thing. There was no need to imply that someone with an official autism and adhd diagnosis was misinformed. I dealt with being called slurs for years, I don’t rlly mind if people nowadays find adhd and autism as a silly fun thing because when I was a kid, I was hated for being autistic and autism was never talked about except in a neg way. The silly memes about it are by autistics themselves. And, it’s a good thing that more people are figuring out traits connected to autism and adhd that psychologists hadn’t figured out yet till recent. Autism or adhd is not a one size fits all, it’s different for everyone that has either, or both a fact that even psychologists will agree with.

[context]

I mean no profession is perfect, I wasn’t diagnosed till I was 20, despite seeing various therapists and stuff since I was 14, so especially psychology as everyone’s brain is different. But I have to base my information from somewhere and I’d rather trust more scholarly sources with years of research and experience, and real people who work in the field, then just any old information on the internet. But anyways, and no shade to self diagnosis either, I’m so happy if people can find some answers and community and stuff like that. What I’m concerned about is what has happened to OCD and ADD and things taken to the point of a stereotype norm, with Autism just becoming anyone who has an obsession with something obscure, ADHD becoming anyone who can’t focus, Anxiety Disorders becoming anyone who’s stressed… etc. And that concern is based on my real life friend telling me about how her friends are scrolling through tik toc and relating to something from some video and diagnosing themselves. And as someone who has been working on my mental health for almost a decade, struggling to get through life, it feels very trivializing for someone to say oh because they like anime they are autistic (that was what one of her friends thought). Or it becoming they are dealing with anxiety and stress they have an anxiety disorder or because they are depressed they have depression. Because anxiety disorder for me means multiple anxiety attacks a week, depression for me means struggling to get out of bed, autism to me means working everyday in professional clothes at the office is torture, adhd to me means trying to do one thing then starting five others and completing none of them or just struggling to stay awake - just some really really broad strokes of things… For someone to say they deal with anxiety when they are just stressed about a test, doesn’t feel very good when I’m trying not to have another anxiety attack… like yes mental illness looks different, the brain is different in everyone and I’m glad we are continuing to grow and build our knowledge. What I worry about is our struggle becoming glossed over, as someone who for almost my entire life has had it invalidated… and like I also said in my statement, it wasn’t really an opinion or take or stance, just an observation I had recently.

It sounds like you’ve had it rough, I’m sorry people have been cruel to you and I’m happy to know that society becoming more open and such has helped you. I can totally see why. For me, on the opposite end, I was told my whole life that I was not enough, that I needed to just get over it, that I just needed to stop being sad or negative, to stop being dramatic… etc I was told it was a failure of me as a person when as it turns out there was actually a lot of factors out of my control the whole time. So that’s where I’m coming from, I think both sides and things can be true. And I am blessed to have been diagnosed in a time when I am not surrounded by cruel kids and when society is becoming more educated in it.

Of course, I want other people to find that same peace, but I also don’t want us to flip the other way and be like well if everyone is autistic then your struggles aren’t real. Hopefully that makes sense. I don’t mean to hate or judge self diagnosis, I’m actually more so encouraging of it, as I have suggested to multiple friends that they should investigate and see if they find it to be true. But I do hope people do due diligence when doing so if that makes sense. And that’s from a place that, again, has seen this happen.

Per usual both things can be true. And of course mental illness looks different in people, I mean I wasn’t diagnosed till I was older and even my doctors disagreed at first, then now I often get people shocked when I tell them. So trust me this is not be trying to say it looks the same by any means.

As far as RSD (rejection sensitive dysphoria) goes, I talked to the therapists I know about it and none of them heard about it, so as far as I can tell it isn’t a recognized diagnosis. Now that doesn’t mean it isn’t real or the experiences of people claiming RSD aren’t real, that’s more so me saying that to me RSD doesn’t need to be a diagnosis or term because I’m pretty sure a lot of people feel the same way about rejection, especially neurodivergent people who have faced so much. It’s not me saying the struggle isn’t real, I certainly qualify, it’s me saying that it’s more so a symptom of a larger issue and one that doesn’t seem to to me to be extreme or unreasonable if that makes sense. If not, that’s fine I’m no psychologist so I’m not going to argue about it. This is just my perspective and fears. I think there a some good point on either end and like all things it’s complicated.

[sometimesiammybpd]

when i was thirteen, i joined an online community. i had no idea what i was doing and at twenty-one, i'm still wishing i could've stopped myself. and not just because i am of the belief that completely unrestricted internet access for a kid should be illegal. it's because i was already having full-blown bpd symptoms at that age. and yeah, it made me impossible to deal with in a general sense. but growing up in a community that put a face on of "understanding mental health issues" in public while seriously demeaning those who actually had problems they were dealing with in private made things so much worse for me that i'm still dealing with the ramifications three, almost four years later.

i was in that community until i turned eighteen and i regret every second of it. there's so many stories i could tell from that time of my life. so many things i wish i could have forgotten but can't. but that's for another time. that community fucked me up mentally so badly. i couldn't trust myself or anyone to listen to me and believe that i really needed help or just someone. everyone took the immediate stance of either trying to get rid of me, accusing me of doing it for attention, or both.

usually both.

i vividly remember the time one of them said to me that my anxiety was hurting them and it wasn't okay of me to do that.

the context is as follows: i have trust issues. really bad trust issues. i've always had them and it's led me to develop a habit of asking if people still wanted to be friends because once the thoughts started, i couldn't stop them. or at least, that's legitimately how it felt. so one night i'm messaging a friend the question because i'm losing my mind and it pretty much went like this:

me: hey i'm really sorry for asking but i can't stop thinking it do you even want to be friends anymore

them: i've said this before. why do you keep doing this? don't you get that you hurt me every time you ask?

me: ...oh. i'm so sorry. i didn't know.

i don't want to pretend like me asking that all the time was okay. it wasn't and it's why i've spent so much time working on it. but at the time, i couldn't go to therapy. my parents had sowed so much doubt that they'd ever handle it properly that i decided it was easier to deal with it on my own. which only served to make it so much worse. but at the time (meaning around a year, maybe two), hearing that destroyed me. because i was barely keeping myself together and that person specifically was my closest friend at the time (he's for a separate post because i have a lot of not great things to say about him).

he was very much a part of the same community who took my meltdowns as attention-seeking behavior, so i started to look into what i could put into words. that led me to bipolar disorder. i genuinely remember not knowing if it fit but telling them anyways because i just wanted someone to believe me that this was real and not just "me being toxic." it is toxic behavior. i very much see that in hindsight. but at the time, i was so desperate. when that didn't really help anything, i started to really bury everything down deep. no one wanted to hear from me and i didn't have a support system so i bottled it up until i literally couldn't take it anymore and exploded into a horrifically toxic episode where i would pretty much destroy every friendship and all kinds of other shit.

the culmination of this was an alternate discord account where i'd bully myself in front of everyone.

i remember it well down to the username used. this part is also a blur at the same time because of what it was. i told everyone it was "just an alt account" which let it be added into most of the servers i was in. and then i would eventually snap from keeping my mouth shut and the alt started up. and yes, it really was in front of everyone i knew. they all hated this. some of it was for attention and i will always admit that. this was not a positive time of my life and i will do nothing to try and sugarcoat it. but i would go extremely dark with it. and i always did play it as me fighting against the alt because that's genuinely how it felt in my head. like, i could barely fucking feel anything at that point because i had so many negative thoughts and feelings and i was also always a part of some kind of drama which piled on top and so much more. and it became too much. here's an example of how it'd usually go:

the alt: do you realize how much of a piece of shit you are? being completely serious. i want to know.

me: what

someone in the server: no you're not fucking doing this again (yes, i unfortunately am)

the alt: god you fucking suck. you're such a manipulative abusive piece of shit. why do you have friends? why can anyone fucking tolerate you? why don't you just fucking kill yourself already and take yourself out of everyone's lives for the better.

and there'd be more and more. i really don't want to re-enact that. but i mean, that's how it'd be. and it drove a lot of those people further away from me. there's a LOT more that happened with this community outside of all of this, but for now, i'd rather keep that a closed book. that time overall was so bad that when i finally left, i had to go into hiding because they were all harassing me to the point where they almost got in contact with my mother. it was really fucking bad.

but what i wanna end with is if you're a teen who maybe doesn't have a support system and thinks something more is wrong than just depression or anxiety, you're not alone. even if you're an adult who feels that way and has not much or any of a system in place, you're not alone. my messages are open if anyone needs to talk and i will keep posting stuff about past and present me. because i know my experiences aren't going to be the most shared and i also know a lot of my early toxicity will turn people away. but i know there are people who want to know they're not alone and maybe learn how to deal with things they've been experiencing but can't put it into words like me.

as much as this is for me, i want it to be helpful to whoever needs it

[moxievoxi]

personal

[midnight-dreamerness]

It’s Always Been You

(This is NOT my gif. Credit to the creator <3)

summary: Jay stopped speaking to you unexpectedly and then you see each other at Molly’s.

pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

warning: Curse Words??

word count: 2.4k

A/N: theres a slight mention of the reader being plus size…

You never thought you’d be replaced. But in came Erin Lindsay and suddenly she was all he talked about. And eventually he didn’t call anymore. He didn’t pull up in your driveway with pizza and a pack of beer out of the blue anymore. There were no Saturday movie nights or Monday monopoly despite you both knowing he always won.

You were lonely. After meeting Jay in high school, it was the two of you against the world. And when he left for the rangers, you were lost. But he came back to you. And you were the happiest you’ve ever been. But this time was different. You were losing him, falling right between your fingers right In front of your eyes and there was nothing you could do was watch from afar as he loved someone else and ached to be that someone.

Erin was a good person with a good heart. She was good for him. But you couldn’t help but hate that you couldn’t give him everything she could. Whatever that was you didn’t know. Maybe it was because you were bigger. Maybe it was because you were different. Whatever it was, you didn’t want to know. It would only break you in the end.

You tried to go out but it seemed the ghost of him followed you wherever you went.

You glanced at him for a moment, noting the stubble covering his jaw and remember how much you ran your hands over it giggling when he spun you around in the middle of his apartment.

You both were closer than normal best friends. You slept in the same bed and cuddled countless times. But every time you woke you he was gone.

Your friend snapped her fingers in front of your face with a laugh.

“You’re staring,” she commented, sniggering. You grimaced, biting at your lip and removing your intense gaze from the man across the room.

He was with a group of people but his arms were laying across the chair of the girl you wanted to hate but couldn’t.

“I hate nice people,” you grumbled, only making your friend laugh more. You ended up grinning, her laugh being contagious.

“Hello, ladies.” You now noticed the blonde who had walked up to your table, recognizing him from Jay's group from across the room.

“Hello, handsome,” you flirted, resting your chin on the palm of your hand, fluttering your eyes at him. He chuckled and ran a hand through his hair.

“I’m Adam. I couldn’t help but notice you from across the room. Can I buy you a drink, both of you?”

“You can buy her a drink. I’m going to talk to the guy who's been eyeing me since I walked in. Good luck!” Your friend exclaimed and started to walk away but turned around and added, “Oh! She likes the fruity stuff. Berry Lemonade Margarita is her favorite. Thank me later.” She gave the blonde, Adam, a wink before finally walking away. You place your hands in your hands, a blush settling over you cheeks.

“Berry Lemonade Margarita it is.” Adam said walking to the bar. You sat there and chuckled, shaking your head. You could feel eyes on you, so you looked up and met his eyes. His hand had fallen from behind Erins chair, a sad smile on his face. You looked away letting out a sigh. Adam was back in a matter of minutes, sliding your drink in front of you and settling in the seat in front of you, a glass of what looks like Whiskey in his hands.

“Thank you,” you muttered, giving him a small shy smile.

“You don’t talk much do you?”

“When I open my mouth I usually embarrass myself.” He only laughs, shaking his head.

You ended up talking for a good twenty minutes about anything and everything. He was easy to talk to but you couldn’t help but ache for another man who would glance at the two of you from across the room ever so often. He hated it. He hated watching Adam making you laugh. It was really his own fault. He has no right to be angry or jealous. But he was. All he wanted to do was march right over there and rip him from that seat. Instead, though, he watched from afar, detaching himself from the conversation his friends were having. You brightened up the room as soon as you entered, his eyes on you as soon as you stepped foot into Molly’s.

“You know Jay?” Adam asked, leaning back against the booth. You nodded, swirling the straw in your half empty drink.

“We were best friends. Things happen, though. People change.”

“Well you're glancing at him every couple of minutes so apparently something happened there.”

“Oh fuck, Adam. I’m sorry,” your shoulder slump as you feel the guilt build inside you. He simply laughs and shakes his head.

“No need to apologize. Does he know?”

You wanted to ask him what he meant but you knew. So you shook your head, “No.”

He purses his lip. “Have you thought about telling him?”

“Only a thousand times. Erin is good for him, though.”

“If Jay wanted to be with Erin he would’ve made it official. So clearly something is holding him back.”

You hated how your chest filled with hope that maybe he held back because of you. But he left you. Stopped calling. Stopped texting. Stopped everything.

“C’mon,” Adam said standing up, glass in one hand and the other held out for you to take. You gave him a curious look but took his hand anyway and grabbed your drink before he could pull you away. When you noticed the direction you both we’re headed you tried to stop but it was no use. The two of you had gained the attention of the entire group.

“Hey, this is my girl, (Y/N). This is Kevin, Kim, Erin, and Jay.” Adam said, pointing them all out with their name. You gave them all a shy smile and a wave. Anxiety filled you and you suddenly felt sick to your stomach.

“Oh no, has he talked your ear off yet?” Asked Kevin who only made the rest of them laugh, aside from Jay, who only glaring at him. He hated the way the words “his girl” fell from Adam's lips.

Your shoulders dropped as the anxiety left and you let out a small laugh.

“He’s getting there.”

You didn’t even have it in you to look into his eyes. You tightened your grip on Adam's hand, who simply nudged you towards the empty spot next to an African American man, who you now know as Kevin. Adam sat next to you, sending you a wink before throwing his arm over your chair.

“Truthfully. She loves me,” Adam says shrugging. You take a sip of your drink, eyes widen, a laugh nearly falling from your lips.

“I’m just waiting on my chance to run,” you suddenly spoke. There was a slight pause before laughs were heard around the table and a whine came from Adam.

“Babe, that is so mean,” Adam moaned, holding his hand over his heart as if you broke it.

You simply giggled and slapped his chest lightly.

A conversation started and you added in a couple of times but mainly you were putting your focus on avoiding his gaze or trying not to cry at the sight of his hand resting on Erins shoulder.

As a certain song came on, you were suddenly pulled into memories of only a couple months ago.

It was the night he made you dance with him. You remember giggling and letting him spin you until you were dizzy and ready to pass out. You remember how his hands fell on your hips to try and steady you before you fell. He was laughing the entire time until his face came close to yours. And he almost kissed you. He was so close and you prayed that he would. But he didn’t.

The memory only causes your heart to ache and knowing that the man you loved was sitting right in front of you with another girl on his arm made it ten times worse.

You wanted to scream and to cry but you trapped it inside, bottling it up until you could let it out once you got home.

The sound of your slurping pulled you from your thoughts. You were out of adult juice. With no intention of going home, you were going to need another drink to get you through the night.

“I'm going to get a drink. I’ll be back,” you told Adam before hopping out of your seat. He gave you a nod.

“Yeah, me too. Anyone want anything?”

You pushed through the groups of people trying to get away but there was no use, Jay caught your arm and pulled you away before anyone at the table noticed. You were in a hallway suddenly and before you could say anything Jay was in front of you.

“Adam? Really?”

“What? What’s wrong with Adam? And why do you care?” You are getting upset now. Jay had no right to question you on who you were seeing. Not anymore.

“He’s not really your type.” You snorted at his reply. What were you supposed to say to that? You didn’t understand why he cared when he had left you and all of a sudden he wants to look out for you.

“Jay, you have no idea what my type is anymore. People change. Maybe I like blondes now.”

“Yeah well I remember only a couple months ago you much preferred brown haired, blue eyed men.”

“What are you implying?” You asked, stepping closer to him, your eyes set in a glare. He folded his arms over his chest, his muscles catching your eyes for a split second. Your thighs clenched before you copied his stance, your nails digging into your arms.

“You know exactly what I’m implying, princess.”

The nickname made you weak at the knees and so did that fucking smirk on his face. But you stood your ground, slipping your hair over your shoulder and attempting to walk around him. He caught your wrist, pulling you into his chest. You took in a breath at how close you both were. It had been so long since you touched him and every part of you wanted to melt into his arms.

“You left me, remember. Replaced me. No calls, no text, no goodbye. And no excuse. You have no right to try and tell me who I can or cannot be with.” As you spoke you snatched your wrist from his grip and pulled away, walking right out the side doors. You walked up to Adam, the excuse falling from your lips easily.

“I’m not feeling too well, I’m gonna head home, Call me. It was nice meeting you guys.”

And you were out the door before they could say anything. Your phone was blowing up as soon as you sped off down the road but you didn’t once pick it up knowing who it was.

It was your turn to ignore him now. You blocked his number later that night and cried yourself to sleep, trying your hardest to let go of that stupid schoolgirl crush you had for him and grow the hell up. You only wished it was as easy as saying it. But your mind betrayed you and you thought about him for the next two days. And then he showed up.

When you heard the knock you assumed it was the package you had been waiting on for three days now but when you took a peek through the peephole, you closed your eyes and sat your back against the door.

“Please open the door,” he begged, resting his head against the door. You let out a sigh and pushed yourself from the door, turning and swinging it open. He stood there with a pizza box in his hand and a pack of beer resting on top. You couldn’t help but smile as you noticed the flowers hiding behind his back. He pulled them out, a grin overtaking the sadness on his face. The look of excitement cured the nervousness that had settled in his stomach.

“Can I take the pizza, beer, and flowers and leave you on the doorstep?” You joked about taking a hold of the flowers, bringing them to your nose to smell them. You closed your eyes as your favorite flower's scent invaded your nose.

Jay let out a laugh. “No, princess. It’s a package deal.”

You let out a chuckle and opened the door wider for him. Jay walked inside, instantly making his way to the living room where he sat the pizza and beer on the table. Instead of following him you entered the kitchen and placed the flowers in a vase and filled it halfway with water. You placed them on the counter, cocking your head to the side as you arranged them perfectly in the vase. Jay watched from the entrance, leaning against the frame with a smile on his lips.

“I’m sorry. And I know it isn’t much, but I hope this is a good start to getting you back.”

His voice causes shivers to roll over your spine. You purses your lips, taking in a breath.

“I don’t want to play anymore, Jay. I want a relationship and if you can’t give me that then please just say so.”

He walked forwards, cupping your face in his hands.

“I didn’t know what I wanted back. But I do know now. And it’s you. It's always been you.”

With a sigh of relief you captured his lips, your hand running up his chest before clasping around his waist. You wished you had done it before, that you both hadn’t played around the thought of a relationship and just did it. But you had him now and that’s all that mattered.

His kiss made you fuzzy and you Found yourself leaning against him for support. His tongue swiped across your bottom lip and you parted your lips eagerly. You moaned at the taste of him and moved your hands to then settle on his chest. You have never been kissed like this before. And you loved every part of it.

You pulled back, taking in a much needed breath as he leaned his forehead against yours attempting to catch his own breath.

“So, you want me to beat your ass in monopoly or what?”

[kooktrash]

14 and jk pls

okay bestie, 14: sleepover and decide to play t or d BUT WITH A TWIST. I got inspo from the CUT game Truth Or Drink, but anyways. hope you like it. omg I’m scared

summary: you’ve been friends with Jungkook for months now, a severe thunderstorm and a drinking game blurs the lines between friendship and more.

warning(s): mature language, college friends, drinking, jungkook is a bit flirty, some of the questions are dirty, implied smut, friends with feeling. Plot with little porn.

truth or drink | jeon jungkook

- “The weather app sucks ass,” he huffed, staring out the window into the thunderstorm waiting for him outside. His eyes shifted down to the app, which changed from a warm night to showcasing clouds of gray and thunder on his screen.

“Severe Thunder Storm warning, if you are from any of the following districts, blah blah blah, remain sheltered from the time being until 6:45am the following day,” you read the weather alert out loud. Jungkook looked back at you, “Um what? I live clear across town, how the hell am I gonna get through that?”

It was true. Your dear friend lived far from your place, and the original plan for the two of you tonight was to study for your Psych exam and then go out for drinks with your friends. It had already been a struggle trying to get him to study, but now he was in an even worse mood because you weren’t going to be able to go out drinking. “Just sleepover crybaby,” you rolled your eyes making yourself comfortable on your couch, “Let’s drink or something.”

“Just us two?” He gnawed on his bottom lip nervously stepping away from the window and looking down at you, “Won’t it be boring?”

“Jieun’s got some drinking games here somewhere, check the media console,” you instructed him, stretching lazily as you pushed yourself up again, “I’ll go find something to drink for us. I think we still have some bottles of Soju laying around.”

“Truth or Drink, what the fuck is that?” Jungkook asked, scooting next to you on the coffee table as he held a little white box. Upon opening it he was met with four different card deck boxes, he read them carefully, “Which one should we do?”

He read the box, Last Call, eyes skimming the quick summary on the back, “Warning, do not play these questions unless it’s very late and you’ve got nothing to lose. Let’s play this one. Wait but it says three or more people.”

You poured Soju into two small glasses, “Yeah it’s to help find winners because the dealer has to choose between two answers. But let’s just play it a different way, there’s usually two questions on a card, we choose the best one, ask the other person and if they can’t answer they drink. And then we can ask the second question if we want to.”

“I need a beginner’s drink real quick,” he chugged down the liquor set in front of them, urging you to do the same, “I want to go first. I just have to pick a card from the pile and ask you?”

You nodded, setting two small piles on the table and waiting for him to decide which one he wants to ask. His eyes widened, “Oh fuck, these questions are heavy. First one and it’s already a lot. Um anyways,” he shook his head as if giving himself motivation, “Does our relationship bring out the best in you? In me? If not, why?”

You thought about it for a moment, “I think, we bring out the best in each other. You’re my best friend and you make me laugh easily and always make me feel comfortable and not a lot of people make me feel that way. I do think I am a better person because of our friendship.”

He wiped at his eye, pretending to shed a tear, “That was beautiful. Okay hurry up, ask me something.” He set the card to the side, waiting patiently for you to choose one. You laughed reading the question, “Who is in control of our relationship?”

“Fuck you, you know you are,” Jungkook huffed crossing his arms in front of him, “Everybody calls me your little puppy. I have separation anxiety it is not my fault.” The two of you chuckled, you watched him reach into the deck again, brows arching as he read, “What am I the most ignorant about?”

You debated answering. There were a few things your friend was ignorant about but you weren’t sure how to say it. In reality the two of you had barely been friends for a little over a year and though you hung out all the time you weren’t sure you were ready to have any deeper conversations. You reached for your drink, taking a drink swiftly ignoring the way his jaw dropped to the floor, “Don’t play with me, answer.”

“I can’t,” you shrugged, “I already took a drink. It’s Truth or Drink, not Truth and Drink.” He leaned forward a little, pout evident on his face, “Please. Please just answer this one. This is the only one I’ll ask you to do.”

“Fine!” You groaned throwing yourself back onto the pillow you set behind you, “I think you can be ignorant when it comes to your looks.” His brows furrowed, turning toward you, tempted to lay down as well. “I mean,” you thought for a moment, “Everyone knows you’re an attractive guy, except you. You’re always complaining about being single or lonely. And I know a ton of girls who’d kill to go on a date with you.”

“Wait,” he shook his head trying to process the information, “You think I’m attractive?” You rolled your eyes, sitting back up with a sigh, “That wasn’t part of the question. My turn.”

You sighed, reading the question out loud, “Do I often seem like I’m being fake?”

He thought for a moment, “Yes. Sometimes I feel like, you don’t really want to be friends with me, or that I annoy you and you just don’t know how to tell me to leave you alone. Or that you just keep me around because you’re bored.”

“Aw,” you frowned, “Oh my god, Kook I’m sorry I make you feel that way. I promise our friendship is 100% real and I am not being fake about it at all.” He smiled widely looking over to the other decks, picking the red one up, “Extra Dirty, let’s play it.”

“No,” you groaned as he changed the mood in the room rather quickly with his distracted mind. He ignored you reading the summary, “Sex, drugs, and rock n roll. All the questions your dark subconscious wants to ask your friends. Yeah let’s play it, the other deck was getting too emotional, can we do this one instead?”

“Fine but if it’s anything too weird I’m just drinking,” you told him. He nodded understandingly as he reached for a card, choking on his own spit for a minute before an evil smile came to his face, “What’s something you wish your ex would have done sexually, but didn’t?”

Fuck. Of course he’d be smiling at this question. Jungkook absolutely hated your ex boyfriend, Hobi. He thought he was rude and sexist and you had to agree just a little. You were friends with Hobi now but he wasn’t the best in a relationship. “Fuck,” you bit your lower lip in concentration, “I’ll tell you but this stays between you and I.”

He stuck his pinky finger out, locking it with yours as he waited eagerly for your answer. You weren’t going to pussy out of a question again so you were just going to say it. “He could never make me cum from eating me out, like never, not even with his fingers,” you hurriedly covered your face with your hands embarrassment filling you as it sat quietly on Jungkook’s end. The breakup was fairly recent so it was still a little awkward and the few hook ups you ve had since then sucked ass. “My turn,” you reached for a card taking his silence as a sign of awkwardness.

Huffing, you read carefully, “Do you find me physically attractive? What if I bat my eyelashes like this?” You did as the card said, batting your lashes at him with innocent and big eyes. He sat for a moment, “Most definitely, he said quickly grabbing another card, “You’re unbelievably attractive. Anyways.”

You could see his tongue push against his cheek, brows knitted together, “What’s your most complimented anatomical feature as described by your lovers?”

You chuckled lightly, “Realistically? Probably my chest.” You caught the way his eyes lingered down for a moment, face softening as he nodded his head. You giggled looking down at the card you just picked from the pile, “Are you loud during sex? Demonstrate with a dramatic interpretation of your signature sounds.”

“I’m drinking,” he mumbled but you shook your head laughing. “No no, you had me answer a question after I drank so I’m gonna do the same. I really want to hear what you got.” He groaned, covering his face in his hands, “Give me a minute, let me take this drink first.”

“Okay so,” he cleared his throat, “I wouldn’t say I’m loud, but I’m not quiet either. I think it also depends on what we’re doing. I’m louder when I’m getting my dick sucked, and it kinda sounds like, um,” he paused for a second. Breathing getting heavier as he began to show you, his mouth fell open, small whines leaving his lips followed by a couple grunts, “Fuck! Okay I’m done. Let me pick a damn card.”

You bursted out laughing as his ears turned a dark red. “It’s getting serious,” you giggled not noticing the way his embarrassed expression turned into a sly smirk, “Got your ass bestie, now it’s your turn. Give a passionate example of your dirty talk.”

You threw yourself back dramatically, debating on taking a drink or not. He smiled, “If you drink you’re a pussy.” “Fine hold on,” you say up scooting closer to him. Clearing your throat, you touched his shoulder lightly, bringing yourself closer to his ear too scared to say it loud so you chose to whisper instead. “You have really pretty hands Kook,” you started. He tensed underneath you for a moment, “I wouldn’t mind having them wrapped around my neck here and there.” Maybe it was the liquor already in your system but this wasn’t as embarrassing as you thought it’d be, and the goosebumps on his skin were making you want to say just a little bit more before it ended.

“And your fingers are so long and pretty,” you looked down at his tattooed hand, “I wonder how they’d feel all over me— Okay I’m done! My turn,” you grabbed a card, ignoring his silent stance. “If we were in a porn together, what category would it be under?”

He cleared his throat sitting straighter as he recollected himself, “Probably something along the lines of, ‘College Hunk Destroys Bratty Girl’ yeah that’d definitely be it.”

“You’re annoying,” you rolled your eyes as he went on for his turn, reading it loudly, “Are you a good kisser? If so, demonstrate.”

“It does not say that,” you muttered. You knew for a fact it didn’t. When Jieun got the game the two of you read every card in every deck and none of them were that suggestive. They said crazy things but nothing that involved intimate physical contact with someone else playing. “It does,” Jungkook said as matter-of-fact. “Okay then show me where it says that.”

“No.”

“Then you’re a liar,” you reached for the card but he held it away, “If you’re a bad kisser just say that Y/n.”

“I’m not!” You whined stretching forward for the card, hand pushing in his knee. He smiled at you, holding the card high as your faces were just a mere inches away from each other, “Well then demonstrate or take the L.” You sighed, hands using his legs to push yourself forward. He stared down at you, arm slowly lowering but his grip on the card was tight in case you tried snatching it out. You looked down at his parted and waiting lips, debating if you should actually go for it.

You were both a little tipsy, and you could always just blame your kiss on the alcohol. It wasn’t like you never thought about Jungkook in that way but you did your best to keep it as a simple friendship. Getting the courage, your back arched slightly as you leaned up to connect your lips with his softly. It was a soft kiss, his lips mets yours immediately going in for it. It wasn’t anything special but he was very obviously a good kisser. When you felt him dip in to further the kiss you attempted to pull away, his following lips going after you. Before you could catch your breath after your separation, his hand dropped the card, Both hands flying to your jaw and cupping your face in his hands as he pulled you in again.

You fell forward, hands gripping his shoulders to steady yourself. His large hands were soft, the pad of his thumbs caressing your cheeks as he pushed his tongue against you. You opened your mouth a little more allowing him access. Your could hear buzzing in the back, but as you tried to pull away, Jungkook only held you closer. You didn’t mind though, if you would’ve known kissing your best friend felt this good, you might’ve tried it sooner. His hands trailed down to your waist, pulling you swiftly onto his lap, as he leaned back against the legs of the couch. You pressed yourself closer deepening the kiss as your hands grinned onto his hair lightly. His hands brushed your sides and under your shirt. His cold hands on your bare stomach surprised you, the hand gripping a lock of hair pulled causing him to let out a breathy groan.

He pushed you down onto the floor, hovering above you as he wrapped your legs around his waist. His hands pushed your shirt up, kisses trailing down your jaw and neck, “If you don’t want this, tell me now because I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.”

“I want you,” you told him as he looked down at you with doe eyes. “I want you too.”

yoongi: i got locked out of my place. ur at y/n’s right? can I come over?

yoongi: hellooooo

yoongi: ANSWER YOUR PHONE

yoongi: if I catch a cold I’m suing fat

A/n OKAY LISTEN. I wanted to put smut in but I wasn’t sure if you’d be comfortable with that so I chose not to. I hope you like it, and I can always do a Drabble with smut if that’s something you want. Thank you for requesting bestie, and DONT BE SHY

[miekasa]

out of the woods (eren jaeger)

↯ pairing: eren jaeger x reader

↯ genres and warnings: royalty au (not within the snk universe), knight/bodyguard au, friends? to lovers? implied? perhaps? maybe one day, but eren’s obviously in love with you lol, sorry i had to make jean the token little shit character but i love him

↯ notes: i spend a lot of time thinking about royalty aus in which the reader is in line for the throne and eren is her very impulsive, but very skilled personal guard because i love him

↯ word count: 1.5k

The harsh clinking of metal ringing in your ears is probably the only thing that keeps you from falling asleep in your chair. Eren’s always a bit fidgety when he’s completely suited, covered almost head to toe in armor and weaponry. It’s a bit excessive, too, which is why he’s not required to look like a walking chandelier on a regular basis, and especially not within castle walls—his normal uniform and longsword at his side in case of an unlikely emergency; but for meetings like these, Eren adorns all four layers of shiny, heavy, gold armor.

It’s more of a status symbol, decoration even, than for his or your own protection, really. And it’s his sly way of keeping you awake during long, drawn out civil duties meetings like these; he knows you hate the sound of all the metals clinking together, but it’s an effective way to making sure you don’t fall asleep face first on the table, and embarrass yourself in front of other royalty and noblemen.

Eren’s arguably a little too impulsive to be a knight, especially for one that stands at the right hand of the sole princess to the kingdom; and definitely the most mischievous of all the royal guards. And, as if to prove it, he shakes his wrist near your ear again when he sees you spacing out, prompting you to shake your head reflexively. He has to hold back his chuckle.

“Princess,” both yours and Eren’s attention shift to the voice that calls after you, “You seem a bit… distracted? Is anything the matter?”

The sound of Jean’s voice is enough to make Eren straighten his spine, his noisy wrist falling to rest his hand on your shoulder protectively. Eren feels you relax your shoulders under his touch, a silent message that he’s free to withdraw and do the same, but he stays sharp.

“My apologies, Jean,” you reply, voice kind and steady, “I have quite a bit on my plate, please pardon my absentmindedness.”

Jean hums, a cheshire grin growing on his lips, as his gaze settles on Eren, rather than you. Jean leans forward, the ruffled cravat around his neck tickling his chin as he brings his elbow onto the table, and his cheek to rest against his palm.

“Surely you’re in no immediate danger, princess,” Jean drawls, slowly, eyes now fixated on you, “Your guard dog can stand down in the presence of friends, no?”

Eren grits his teeth, growing more restless with every word that leaves Jean’s irritating mouth. The prick has the audacity to smirk when Eren’s free hand goes to rest against the sheath for his sword.

You, however, simply smile politely. The other men and women of the court are silent around the table; some eyes wide with anticipation, or perhaps anxiety, as the tension between Eren and Jean grows. You look slightly behind Jean, where Armin stands against the wall, his stance neutral, but his face concerned, with a look that speaks a thousand words—or, rather, twelve: tell Eren to relax, or there will be a bloody royal murder.

Carefully, you bend your own arm back, as to place your palm atop Eren’s hand still resting on your shoulder; then looking towards Jean: “Eren is my primary guard and advisor, Prince Jean, just as Marco is to you,” you state calmly, gesturing to the seat at Jean’s right, where Marco is seated, “He is by my side at all times.”

Eren knows that; and Jean knows it, too. He also knows this is a losing battle, but he wants to play, anyway.

“I understand, my lady, but surely there’s no need for Eren to be on guard for high-level threats at such a minuscule gathering,” Jean taunts, looking Eren in the eyes before continuing, “Besides, I’m sure a husband would provide much more civil protection, wouldn’t you agree?”

It takes you squeezing Eren’s hand with all your strength to get him to even think about refraining from unsheathing his sword and putting it through Jean’s head. He feels your orders, but it does nothing to calm him, though; angry, vengeful, green eyes boring into the prince’s soul.

Jean smirks, slips in another sly innuendo about he could please you better than any knight in your court, and Eren almost loses it. His right hand is on the handle of his sword, a glimmer of handcrafted gold peeking through its casing. His moves have the other knights on guard, too; Armin silently signaling for Mikasa to be careful, or ready.

“Eren,” you call, but you’re looking at Jean, “Stand down.”

You have to repeat your words twice more for them to get past Eren’s cloudy mind and growing growls. You squeeze his hand again, and reluctantly, he takes a step back—evens out his footing, removes his hand from your shoulder, lets go of his weapon. His stance is neutral at your right hand now, and the relief in the room is palpable. And audible from Armin, who lets out a sigh; he can rest now, knowing that the foreign prince won’t be beheaded.

With a similar sigh, you stand to address your other guests, “I believe a recess is in order. Mikasa will usher you to the ballroom for hors d’oeuvres and wine. We will reconvene at quarter to the hour.”

The noblemen, advisors, and other royalty nod in acknowledgement, moving to the exit as Mikasa leads them through the castle corridors and into the appropriate room. Prince Jean falls behind the rest, offering you and wink and a cocky grin before being pulled by Marco. Armin is the last to exit, saluting you politely as his stands in the entryway.

“Would you like for some refreshments to be brought to you, princess?” he questions.

“You don’t have to be so formal when they’re not around, you know that,” you smile gently. Armin gapes, a light, embarrassed blush falling across his cheeks, “It’s fine, Armin. I’ll be there shortly.”

Armin nods, giving Eren a look, before finally exiting and following behind the crowd. When you’re alone, Eren finally speaks.

“I don’t like him.” 

“I thought you and Armin were friends,” you joke, pushing yourself from out of your seat and standing next to him. Eren’s side-eye speaks a thousand words, but you find yourself chuckling in response.

“You promised me you’d work on that temper of yours,” you taunt, taking a few steps towards the door. Amused by his pouty demeanor, you extend your hand for Eren to hold like a child, “Come on, knights shouldn’t pout.”

Eren rolls his eyes, gingerly taking your hand, only to spin you around and wrap his arms around your middle. He fits his chin into the crook of your shoulder, “Knights shouldn’t have to justify wanting to murder asshole princes, either.”

“Jean means well,” you say, laughter seeping through your words at Eren’s evident disagreement with your statement. You reach a hand backwards to comb through his hair to quell his irritated state; an action well received, as the taller boy nuzzles his face deeper into your shoulder, his body finally fully relaxing, “He shouldn’t intentionally antagonize you, but he’s still a prince, Eren. You have to be careful.”

Eren huffs, and holds you a little tighter. “Him being a prince means nothing to me.”

“I’m serious,” you sigh, letting the hand in his hair fall down to your side, and then to rest atop his that are over your stomach, “You can’t be that hasty. Your actions could be seen as an attempt on royal blood by the wrong people.”

“And his words could be seen as harassment and defamation of the princess and her associates, in which case I am within my rights to attack, and you are within your rights to sue,” Eren counters. 

He removes his hands from your waist, gently resting them on your shoulders to turn you to face him now. He’s got that stupid look on his face, the one he gets when he’s a little too overly confident, but Eren’s not dumb; he’s impulsive, and passionate, but he knows the law of your land like the back of his hand, particularly where it pertains to protecting you. 

“And he did it while on your land. It would have been defense of the princess—precautionary knightsmanship, really—if I had sliced his head off.”

“Precautionary knightsmanship sounds made up,” you say, an eyebrow raised in suspicion.

“It’s real. It’s in the knight handbook, trust me,” Eren replies, leaning down to press a single kiss to your forehead. He removes his hands from your shoulders, stepping past you before turning back with one arm extended, “Come on, allow me to escort you to the tiny, not fulfilling, rich people finger foods.”

You chuckle, placing your smaller hand in his, “They’re called hors d’oeuvres, Eren.”

“That sounds even more ridiculous,” he notes, wrapping his fingers around your palm, “Just eat normal meals and portions like the rest of us.”

“You know, you’re allowed to eat the tiny, rich people finger foods, too.”

“I know,” Eren hums, turning his head as he begins to walk you in the direction of the ballroom, “But I’d rather have Jean’s head.”  

[sweetsbfreex]

you’re amazing, don’t worry

A few days before you were laying in bed. Harry laid on his back, while you were on your side, his arm wrapped around your shoulder and your head on his chest. Watching the television displayed on the wall. 

“Can we talk about something before we both doze off?” he asked quietly, his arm going lazily up and down your arm. 

“Sure” you replied sitting up, crossing your legs. While Harry also sat up, pausing the tv too. 

“I know we’ve talked about it a few times, but I think we should go public” he said quickly, which is something when you’re speaking about Harry.

“You- you wanna go public, like let everyone know we’re dating?”

“Yeah I mean, you know the movie premiere is this weekend and I really want to walk the red carpet with you by me” he stated, reaching for your hand in the midst of it. 

“H-”

“I know, I know baby, but I think this could be the perfect time. We can get it over with” he said shuffling closer “I could finally show my girl off to everyone hm?” placing his palm on your cheek, thumb grazing the apex of your cheek. 

You loved Harry; you really did. He is your person, but you just weren’t sure about this. Having to put up with your social anxiety, big events, crowded places, and new people just weren’t your thing. You remember the first time you had met the band, a fidgeting mess, was all you were. 

The door opened to his studio, a smiling, giddy Harry on the other side. You however, were the complete opposite. Your stomach was a mess and your fingers wouldn’t stop fidgeting with the rings on your fingers or the necklace around your neck.

Harry could see from the doorway, pulling you into a bone crushing hug (letting the door close behind him) filled with love, whispering into your ears words to affirm you. “Hi, you’re amazing, don't worry,” he said kissing, your lips.

You smiled up at him showing your thanks, clasping your hands together “Thank you...Oh also can you let the lady in the front office know I said good morning back, my voice just wouldn’t project,” you whispered the last part, earning a chuckle from Harry. 

“Yes I'll do it, you about ready to meet everyone” he asked, looking down at you, concern displayed on his face from the way his eyebrows furrowed together. 

“Can we just stand out here for a bit” you asked. 

“Of course, just let me know when you’re ready. I promise they're not as bad as I make them seem” he says grinning, as he brings his hands put to clasp your face, setting kisses to your forehead. 

When you were finally ready, Harry opened the door, your hand holding onto his tightly, as you trailed behind him. 

‘Am I walking funnily? No you’re fine just don't trip or anything’ you tell yourself, breathing a deep breath in holding it and letting it go. 

“Lads this is y/n!” he pronounced elatedly, stepping to the side so you would be in view, looking down at you tranquil. You could see, looking back a thin briefly the crinkles around his eyes were striking and his dimples deep. 

“baby, this is Mitch, Sarah, you already know Jeff, Ny Oh, Adam, and Charlotte”. You knew Mitch was a man of not many words, so you weren’t too worried about conversing with him.

‘don't sound stupid, don't sound stupid, don't sound...’

A variety of heys were thrown at you from everybody in, you squeaked out a hi hoping everyone had heard and a wave. 

Harry had then pulled you both to sit down in one of the free spaces of the couches resting against the walls of the studio. 

“So y/n, H says your interning at Pinterest, that’s really cool” Sarah says

“Oh yea..Uh, I just look at a bunch of numbers and statistics, nothing too fun” you say, your voice wavering. But inside you could swear your heart was doing cartwheels when you had realized Harry talks about you to his friends. 

“I don't think it’s boring, she’s brilliant, she looks at all these gigantic numbers and comes up with these summaries, it’s amazing” Harry parades, wrapping his arm around your torso.

“Thank you H” you murmur, your cheeks heating up. 

As the time continued before you had to go. There was a lot of Harry intervening because you weren’t really sure what to ask or say, too on the fence of not embarrassing yourself in front of his friends, but luckily as time went on things had gotten better, to the point you didn’t break down before hanging out with any of them. 

“But all those people bub and the cameras, I don’t know, my anxie-”

“I know I can’t control it, but I’ll be there with you the whole time. You don’t even have to tell me your answer right now, whenever you’re ready okay?”

“Yea, thank you” you say. Getting up to stand on your knees, pulling Harry into a hug. A breath of relief coursing all over you. 

“You don’t have to thank me, petal, just want you comfortable”

                                                          -

Now here you were getting ready for the event, sporting a beautiful black dress that had an ascending slit running up the side of the dress. 

“You look beautiful, angel” harry gushed walking over to you, taking your hand as he guided you to do a quick twirl “very easy on the eyes” using that same hand to stop your twirl and instead pull you into him, stationing his second on the curve of your ass. 

“Are you sure if you’re having any doubts it’s ok” he repeated for the umpteenth time. You don’t mean to sound the way you do, you were grateful of course for how caring and understanding he is.

But ever since you had told him yes, he’d check every day till now, just to see if you were sure, reassuring you that he wouldn't be mad if you change your mind, etc. 

“Harry-”

“I know I know, but I also know that you don’t like thinking that you're disappointing me”

“I hate you,” you mumble, bringing your forehead to rest against his shoulder, hating and loving the fact that he knew you so well, you could barely hide anything if you wanted to, but he couldn’t either. 

“Mhm” he hummed, grinning down at your distraught stance.

You brought your head from his shoulder, smiling up at him for reassurance “I promise I'm fine, it’s okay”

                                                           -

This was not okay, you should’ve listened to Harry.

Now in the limo, on the way to the event, it was you, Harry, the band, Jeff, and his girlfriend–Glenne. 

Your foot tapped arrhythmic, both hands tightly clasped around one of Harry’s. It felt like you were going down a really really really high rollercoaster, with how your stomach was twisted a never-ending knot of wires. 

fuck, did it really hurt. 

“Love are you sure you’re okay?” 

“mhm” you responded, nodding quickly letting go of the tense hold you had on Harry’s hand. 

Conversation was flying around you, but you couldn't find yourself to join in with how into your head you were. Thought after thought flying high and low, some doubtful, some embarrassing, and some down right annoying. But you couldn’t help it. What if you had something in your teeth, or you stood awkward, or you trip just walking down the carpet (over nothing which would be even worse). 

God, you were a mess. And the intense analyzing look Harry was giving you was not helping. 

“Okay we’re here guys!” Jeff let out, clapping his hands together a singular time, while everyone else let out their excitement. 

‘When did the car stop?!’

Jeff was the first to get out, everyone else following suit until you were the only one. Looking up from your seat near the door, Harry stood outside, hand reaching out towards you. 

“You ready love?”

You could feel your throat clogging up from those words, the wires in your stomach only getting tighter by the second and in seconds your trembling hands were reaching up to wipe the tears running down your cheeks. Staring at all the interviewers with mics standing to the side of the carpet, the barricade holding back fans, and all the other people strutting their way down the carpet you weren’t sure you could handle all the eyes that would possibly be on you. 

“I- I don't think I can do it, I'm sorry H, 

I thought I could. I can't. I'm so sorry” you rambled, sniffling time to time. Finally looking up into Harry’s sad eyes, you also caught the glance of everyone else who looked at you with solace. 

“shh shh,” he started, passing through the door again to sit adjacent to you, quickly clasping your face in his, using his thumbs to brush away the never-ending tears. 

Your makeup was ruined, nose a debacle, as you tried bringing yourself together, but that didn't seem to work as you only began to hyperventilate. 

“Oh y/n” he said, bringing your head to lay on his chest, grabbing the handkerchief to wipe away at your runny nose. “Mate we’re gonna head out, Jeff let whoever needs to know it was an emergency or something, please,” he asked Jeff, awaiting his response until he could finally close the door which he did quickly.

“No no Harry you can't miss this, please I’ll just go home, it’s fine”

“it’s not fine, I'd have to be out of my mind to leave you like this, petal, it’s okay I'm not mad I promise” he reassured. 

On the way to his place the tears never stopped, thinking of how you had not only embarrassed yourself, but Harry too. 

“I'm sorry I'm really sorry H,” you cried into his chest, even his expensive suit you were messing up, this night could only get better. Only getting a hush and words of reassurance from Harry. 

                                                           -

You were laying on his bed, phone in hand as you scrolled through twitter. You knew this would happen, but you were just hoping by some miracle it wouldn't have, that maybe you’d finally reign control. Harry was in the closet putting on his sweats, and also fetching your makeup remover and clothes for the night. 

Harry Styles Ditched his OWN Premiere?!

What Happened to Harry Styles Tonight?

And last, but not least 

Harry Styles and Mystery Girl!, A picture of you and Harry in the limo, thankfully your face covered as it was pulled into Harry’s chest protectively. And another exactly like it, only difference is Harry’s distraught face was shown looking up at Jeff’s. 

“You shouldn’t be reading that rubbish,” his deep voice takes you by surprise, looking up as he stood in front of you. Your clothes in one hand and cotton pads and your make up remover in another. 

“I know” you mumble. “I couldn’t help myself”

“Do you want to get dressed, and we talk afterwards”

“Yeah” you say grasping the pile of clothes from his palm. Setting them on the bed as you stripped and changed there. Once you were done, you climbed on the bed sitting across from Harry who had just finished dabbing some of the liquid into two cotton pads, handing you the other one. 

You started removing the mascara and eye shadow, since they were sensitive, while Harry began wiping down your cheek.

“I'm sorry I embarrassed you, H”

He stopped his actions, dropping his hand away from your face. His eyebrows brought together and his mouth a line of what you could describe as disgust, but not likely, and one lip tucked up. 

“Why would you say something like that?” he asks, he grabs both your hands guiding you to sit on his lap. Your legs straddling his waist, wrapping both your arms over his neck. He sighed into your neck, bringing one hand to stroke the back of your head. “You didn’t embarrass me, baby, you reacted. You can’t help it, and I would never hold that against you, Yea?”

You nodded meekly in response. 

“I’m proud that you even tried to begin with, I’m sorry too, I shouldn’t have forced you to go.” he says.

“Thank you... And it isn’t your fault, you didn’t force me to go. Just...I don’t know. All those people H, what if someone figures out it’s me. Now everyone will see me crying like a baby, it’s even worse that your friends saw me like that.” you sniffle. 

“I know I can’t magically fix this, but I promise you don’t even have to worry about them. They understand and won’t bring it up” he says trying to reassure you. 

“And if the public figures out it’s me, that’s a terrible first expression” you chuckle lowly.

Harry let’s a small laugh come out in return, grasping your face to pull you closer. “We’ll get to it, if it happens...how about after we get ready for bed, we go drive around a bit. Would that help a little?” he asks, eyes overflowing in empathy. 

“Yes please. Thank you again. I love you” you answer sniffling a small smile upon your face.

“I love you so much more”, he says bringing you in for a cuddle.

“We’re not starting this again” you grumble into his chest, receiving a giggle from him.

-

if you enjoyed pls don’t forget to reblog or give feedback if ur up to it <3

[patchofsunlight]

Pretty Eyes | Sokka x Fem!Reader

Hello! This is my first ever imagine and I have no idea of what I’m doing, but I guess that’s the beauty of it all, right? So here we go!

SUMMARY: Y/N and Sokka do not get on well. That changes, however, after one particular night.

WORD COUNT: 6k I’m not used to writing oneshots it got so long I’m sorry if the “keep reading” thingy doesn’t work

WARNINGS: there’s a bit of kissing at the end? also I think there’s one or two cuss words. there’s some angst and mutual pining, since it’s an enemies-to-lovers. Toph is Y/N’s best friend bc I love her. and bad writing! I think it feels kinda rushed and English is not my first language so I’m not really sure how to feel about this tbh

I hope you like it! Also if you want to request something please do just ask me what I write for and I’ll tell you!!

Y/N definitely did not regret leaving Zuko and joining the Avatar and his team. It was probably the best thing she had ever done, the first step to finally forgiving herself for all the years she worked for the Fire Nation and for all the pain she caused alongside it, the first step to letting go of all the hurt she held inside her heart.

But Spirits, she couldn’t take Sokka’s attitude anymore.

“We can’t let Y/N go to the city alone, it’s a three day trip! What if she tells her Fire Nation friends we are here?”

He was the only one who hadn’t warmed up to her yet. Toph had taken a liking to her almost immediately, which Y/N firmly believed was for the sole reason of spiting Sokka, but she didn’t exactly mind. Toph was the first person to treat her like a human being and not an enemy, and she was deeply thankful for that. The first few weeks with Team Avatar were difficult — the Water Tribe people didn’t trust her, Aang was unconscious, Katara was going crazy with worry for her friend, and Sokka accused her of being a Fire Nation spy every two seconds. Siding with the Avatar in the crystal cave had done nothing for her reputation, it seemed: she was still Zuko’s friend, still a bad person, still Fire Nation scum, among other endearing titles.

Katara came around eventually, while Aang was still recovering from his injuries. At one point, the waterbender told her she was the only one not pissing her off in the Water Tribe boat they occupied, which made her smile.

And Aang, well, he was a sweetheart. She would never forget the way the small boy laughed loudly after Katara told him how she punched Azula in the face after the Fire Princess hit him with lightning, kindly leaving out the part where Azula immediately gave her a nasty burn after recovering from the surprise of a fist to the nose. 

“Come on, Sokka,” Katara countered, rolling her eyes in annoyance, “we’ve talked about this.”

Then there was Sokka, who still pretty much hated her, even as they now hid inside the Fire Nation together. “You know I’m right, Katara. You should go with her to make sure she doesn’t turn her back on us.”

“You guys know she is right here, right? Are you ignoring her or something?”

“It’s okay, Toph,” Y/N touched the girl’s arm fondly, avoiding the glare Sokka sent her way. “You don’t need to worry..”

“No, it’s not okay!” Katara snapped, letting go of the shirt she was stitching up and staring at her brother angrily. “Why don’t you go with her, then, if you’re so worried?”

“That seems like a good idea!” Aang smiled brightly from his place beside Appa. “It could be a fun bonding trip!”

“No!” Sokka and Y/N said almost at the exact time before exchanging a very confused look. Something seemed to ignite inside him just as he turned to glower at her with rage in his eyes. “Why don’t you want me to go, firegirl? Is it because I’m right?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s because you are a jerk to her all the time, but okay,” Toph muttered. Katara bit back a snicker, taking the shirt from the ground and trying to focus on it again.

“Well, I’m going,” Sokka announced, crossing his arms, “since she’s hiding things from us and trying to go to the city alone.”

“I am not hiding anything! No one else wanted to go to the city so I volunteered, it’s not that deep.”

“Well, then why wouldn’t you want me to go?”

“I don’t know, Sokka, why do you accuse me of being a traitor all the time?”

“That’s got nothing to do with this! But you did betray Zuko, who was supposed to be your boyfriend or whatever—”

“Zuko was not my boyfriend.”

“— and once a traitor, always a traitor.”

“That’s enough!” Katara interrupted, annoyance written all over her face. “We chose Y/N to make the trip to the city and I can’t take being near Sokka anymore, so you two will leave right now to get us supplies, food and clothes. Do you understand?”

“I—”

“I don’t care, Sokka! Go get your things, see you in three days.”

------

Sokka wasn’t really sure why he hated Y/N so much anymore. Hell, he was even starting to think he might actually enjoy her presence, in a way. Not that he would tell that to anyone.

She was still the enemy, even while Katara laughed at something she said and Toph clinged to her, talking her ears off about whatever was going on through her mind. She was still the enemy when Aang asked to braid her hair and when she talked to Appa and Momo while she thought no one noticed. Y/N was still the enemy while her eyes shone with delight whenever Toph made a joke and while she smiled that pretty smile of hers at Aang, and she was definitely still the enemy when his heart skipped a beat whenever she accidently looked at him without that angry look he always managed to put on her face.

Yes, Sokka didn’t like her in any way. He couldn’t like her, he refused to like her. She was from Fire Nation. Even if the others accepted her, he knew the truth — Y/N would never be trustworthy, would never be one of them.

The caves they were currently hiding in were Fire Nation territory, and the trip towards the city was long, specially since they couldn’t use Appa. After two miles, Sokka was already bored. 

“Is your Fire Nation home close by?” he questioned, a hint of accusation in his voice. Y/N didn’t spare him a glance and, for some unknown reason, Sokka felt annoyed by it.

“No.”

“Well, then where is it?” he pressed, staring at her.

“Where is what?”

“Your Fire Nation home.”

“I don’t have one, Sokka. Are you done?”

The Water Tribe warrior scoffed and rolled his eyes, crossing his arms, “you don’t have one, firegirl? Yeah, right. I’m sure you lived in a big house where everyone did every little thing you wanted them to,” he watched as she sighed, her eyes flooding with irritation, “am I wrong?”

It was her turn to scoff, “shut up, waterboy.”

He raised his eyebrows, “waterboy?”

“Come on, the quicker we do this the quicker I can be away from you. We have no time to lose.”

------

They set up camp in the woods near a small village halfway to the city. While walking, they didn’t speak much besides Sokka’s stupid questions and Y/N’s dry answers — he noticed how she acted different now they were alone together, almost as if she had closed up on herself and, ignoring the stinging in his chest, he wondered if she would ever smile and laugh with him the way she did with the Aang, Toph and Katara. With a certain heaviness to his thoughts, Sokka concluded that no, she probably wouldn’t. Not that he cared, obviously.

“I can do first watch,” he let her know, watching carefully as Y/N yawned and arranged her sleeping bag on the hard ground.

“You sure?”

“Yes. I’ll wake you up when it’s my turn to sleep.”

Y/N nodded, falling asleep almost instantly as she laid her head down. When she slept, she didn’t look like a traitor as much as she usually did. She looked like a normal, beautiful girl he would really love to get to know better. But of course he couldn’t, because she was from the Fire Nation and would eventually betray them all, or at least that’s what Sokka told himself to avoid getting too close, too attached. Spirits, he had lost so many people that adding one more person in his care-about list was unthinkable, unreasonable and just all-around stupid.

Sokka wasn’t sure how much time had passed when Y/N started moving in her sleep, her previously peaceful expression now filled with anxiety and fear as she turned and tossed. He furrowed his eyebrows, staring at her curiously.

“No,” he could hear her mutter, “please, no. Please.”

“Y/N?” his voice was calm as he knelt down by her sleeping bag, recognizing the signs of a nightmare. “Y/N, wake up. It’s just a dream.”

“I’m sorry,” she cried out, her eyelids shut tight, “please. I’m sorry!”

“Y/N!”

The girl sat up suddenly, hitting her forehead with his. Sokka groaned at the sudden pain, bringing a hand up to his forehead and touching it lightly. Meanwhile, Y/N took in her surroundings, her breathing heavy. She could already feel a lump forming inside her throat.

“Are you okay?” he asked after a moment, finally noticing her panicked motions and moving forward to touch her shoulder but hesitating. Sokka would usually greet her with a mean comment, but he could see the nervousness on her face and it worried him. “Do you need some water?”

“No, I’m good,” she swallowed, trying to slow down her breathing. “I just—just got a nightmare.”

“I noticed,” the Water Tribe warrior smiled sadly, “I get those too.”

She hummed in acknowledgement, trying to wrap her head around the fact Sokka was actively being nice to her. It felt weird but had a kind of warmth taking over her chest that she didn’t mind one bit.

He scratched the back of his neck, staring at her while she kept her eyes trained on her own hands, “do you want to talk about it?” He noticed her intrigued expression and sighed, going on, “Katara always tells me that talking about nightmares makes them go away. So… Do you want to talk about yours?”

Y/N looked at him attentively, searching for some type of mockery or teasing on his face. Sokka seemed to blush under her gaze, but she was sure it was just the moonlight tricking her eyes. Y/N exhaled deeply, crossing her arms in a defensive stance and biting down on her lower lip as she couldn’t find any bad intention in his gaze, deciding to share some of the vulnerability he was offering her. “It was just something that happened some years ago. Before I left with Zuko, I mean.”

He nodded, leaning on his hands with his arms straight while sat beside her, “I never understood why you left with him, to be honest,” he commented, “he doesn’t seem like the fun type.”

Y/N let out a small smile and Sokka could swear his heart jumped inside his chest for some reason, “he was never the fun type, but he was still my best friend, even though banishment changed him. But I didn’t leave just because of Zuko.”

That was new information. “You didn’t?”

She shook her head, looking down at her hands again, “no.”

“Then why?”

Sokka observed as her entire body tensed and felt the immediate urge to apologize for the question and tell her to go back to sleep. Before he could open his mouth, however, she answered in a broken voice that sounded nothing like her own, “I couldn’t stay. My dad had just died in the war and my mom…” her eyes were full of anguish and misery, still watching her fingers lock and unlock, “she wasn’t doing very well. My nightmare,” she hesitated, inhaling sharply before training her gaze on him again, “it was about her.”

They looked at each other, lazy eyes studying faces with a new curiosity and innocence they hadn’t held for one another before. Something flashed through Y/N’s expression before she asked, averting her pretty eyes from him, “do you want to see it?”

Sokka furrowed his brows in confusion, “see what?”

Y/N let out a shaky breath before raising her tunic slightly. The Water Tribe boy felt his whole face flush with embarrassment but he noticed the marks before he could look away — something that must’ve been a horrible burn, the scar covering a great part of her right side, stretching from her bellybutton to just under her chest. “Iroh spent a lot of time changing mine and Zuko’s bandages in the first months after we left,” she smiled sadly and then put her clothes back into place.

“Your mom did that?”

“She didn’t mean to,” Y/N shrugged her shoulders, “it was an accident, but still. Whenever I think about it, I’m really glad I was born a non-bender.”

“You are?”

“Yes. Having the power to cause so much pain and destruction… I wouldn’t want that in anyway.”

Sokka hummed in understanding and appreciation. He knew she was a non-bender like him but they had never really talked about what that meant to them and to Team Avatar. He wasn’t aware she didn’t crave bending like he did, but it felt nice to hear her speak about it like that.

Showing someone her scar felt… Different, but not a bad different. Y/N had grown accustomed to hiding it all the time, even though she didn’t feel ashamed of it. It was just an ugly part of her that held too many bad memories that she intended to keep to herself. Letting Sokka see it was strange and she didn’t know exactly why she did it, to be honest. It felt right, though. Talking to him like they were friends felt right. Being around him like that felt very, very right.

“You should sleep, waterboy,” she punched his shoulder softly, ignoring her own thoughts, “I’ll keep guard for the rest of the night.”

He was quick to deny, “no, I’m fine, you should—”

“Sokka,” her tone was demanding, “you need to rest too. Come on, get some sleep. I don’t think I’ll be able to fall asleep again anyway.”

He would love to disagree but he recognized the look on her face. She wasn’t asking him to sleep — she was telling him to. For some reason, that thought made him smile.

“Okay,” Sokka answered quietly as he got into his own sleeping bag, “good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Sokka. Sleep well.”

“I will. Thank you.”

“It’s alright.”

------

The rest of the trip was better than expected. It seemed like that one vulnerable moment they shared affected their relationship in more ways than one, and they traveled peacefully to the city and back. They even managed to spark conversation with each other in some instances.

Sokka would love to say that being in good terms with Y/N made him satisfied, but that would be a lie. Aang, Katara and Toph were really happy with their new dynamic, glad they could talk to each other without mean comments or accusations — Y/N and Sokka were the only ones inside the Gaang who still had to become friends, and now that they did, everyone seemed pleased and content.

Except Sokka.

Being around her was difficult. Now that he didn’t expect the worst of her all the time, he couldn’t ignore what he felt whenever she was close by, the sensations he once thought were just his way of feeling disgust and anger taking a different shape. He would catch himself smiling stupidly at her while she laughed with someone else and would feel his whole face reddening when she looked into his eyes. However, he remembered very clearly the last time he felt something like that, and it didn’t end well. He couldn’t have that again.

Avoiding her was even more difficult and he couldn’t keep it up for a single day. After finally being able to taste what a friendship with Y/N felt like, he couldn’t stop from craving it more and more. Instead of being away from her like he intended so he could get rid of whatever feelings he was gathering, he actively went out of his way to be near her, even when his mind screamed at him to just let go.

Sokka couldn’t get attached to someone like that once more. He couldn’t forget what happened to Yue — liking someone was not his cup of tea, it would end tragically and he didn’t want it, couldn’t have it, not again.

But a part of him entertained these feelings, these thoughts. It didn’t matter, right? She would never feel the same for him, so it was okay. He wouldn’t get hurt because he would never actually have her so there was no way to lose her.

Right?

------

Everything happened fast.

They didn’t think the Fire Nation soldiers would find them anytime soon and yet they still did. They were nearing the Day of the Black Sun and being found out in Fire Nation territory was less than ideal, to say the least. Y/N was just glad they had Toph, Aang and Katara to fight for them — they were truly amazing benders and there were many more soldiers than she would normally expect.

Everything happened too fast.

She had been taught from a young age how to fight with a sword and was slowly trying to teach Sokka too, even though teaching was proving itself to be harder than learning. They fought from the sidelines, hitting the soldiers the three benders couldn’t hit or see. One of them had a sword too and Y/N rapidly engaged in a difficult fight while also keeping an eye out for Sokka, who was fighting another soldier to her right.

She couldn’t deny the feelings growing inside her towards the boy. Weeks before, she would have straight up laughed if anyone told her she would fall for him, and now there she was. Y/N loved his smile and his voice and his stupid jokes and the way he called her “firegirl” with an endearing tone instead of the accusative one he used to always have when talking to her only weeks before. She loved how his cheeks flushed red when she looked at him for too long and she loved hearing him go on and on about his plans and theories. She loved it all so much she didn’t even mind Toph’s constant teasing: “Calm down your heart, Y/N,” the younger girl would say with a mocking smile, “it’s just Sokka!”

“Shut up, Toph.”

Y/N knew he would never feel the same, but a girl can dream, and dream she did. They would talk late into the night, guarding camp together and exchanging childhood stories. Being around him was very comforting, in a way. 

Everything happened fast.

She got distracted when the soldier battling against Sokka seemed to get the upper hand, even though Sokka fought back and took control of the conflict again easily. However, that instant was enough for her own enemy to attack.

The pain was unbearable but Y/N kept on fighting. There was blood running down her skin, staining her clothes, the wound to her ribs deep and distressing, but she couldn’t leave her friends like that. She manipulated her sword the best she could, ignoring the sharp pain felt with every intake of breath, taking down as many non-bender soldiers as possible.

They ran for Appa when there was finally an opening, climbing onto the flying bison and leaving the remaining Fire Nation soldiers behind them.

Adrenaline was responsible for making her able to endure the pain but now that they were safe and flying while Aang and Katara disguised Appa as clouds, her vision went out of focus and she stumbled, clinging to Toph’s arm in a last attempt to remain conscious and alert. “Y/N? Are you alright?” the girl asked confusedly, her brows furrowed in question.

“Yes,” Y/N was able to get one word out, even though her thoughts were getting messier by the second and black dots appeared before her eyes. “Just tired,” she muttered. It was true — she could feel exhaustion taking over her body and head, slowly making her slump over herself.

She felt like her body was on fire, almost as if she had been burned all over. The pain made it hard to concentrate, her mind trained on the feeling of blood soaking her tunic, every breath causing waves of agony to take over her. The stab wound seemed to be throbbing, unabling her of any coherent thought.

“You sure? You seem—Spirits! Katara, come here! Y/N was wounded! She is bleeding!”

A part of her brain registered a touch to her ribs, Toph’s small hands hanging over her with no idea of what to do. She could hear Katara’s voice from somewhere on her right but she knew Katara needed to keep up their cover alongside Aang. They couldn’t afford risking their disguise just yet, they were still too close to those soldiers.

(Or so she thought. She couldn’t be really sure, since her mind was clouded and she felt extremely confused, the black dots slowly taking over her vision until she saw nothing but unrecognizable shadows.)

Amongst the screams, there was Sokka. He had left his place guiding Appa and came running to her, horror written all over his face as he started to put pressure on her bleeding wound, following Katara’s instructions.

“You’re going to be okay,” his voice sounded weird, disconnected, out of place. Y/N wished she could see him properly. She had come to appreciate how beautiful he actually was, with his endearing smile and bright blue eyes. She really wished she could see him. “Stay awake for me, alright?”

“Waterboy,” she mumbled with a lazy smile before darkness consumed her entirely.

------

There was so much blood. Sokka could see how the water covering Katara’s hands was stained, he could see how soaked Y/N’s tunic was. He could see her, her skin so pale she almost looked dead. That thought alone made Sokka’s stomach turn over inside his body, his eyes stinging with anxious tears.

They did an emergency landing on a small island nearby, Katara trying to maintain their cover as Aang rushed to the reins Sokka had abandoned in his frenzy. Meanwhile, Sokka and Toph were screaming at each other in utter panic, trying desperately to help their friend somehow. His hands were still shaking and red from putting pressure on the wound like his sister had told him to. 

“What is happening?” he stopped pacing as he heard Toph’s weak voice, the small girl playing with her own fingers in nervousness. “Is Katara’s healing working?”

There was ringing inside his ears as he stared at his sister. He could clearly see tears streaming down her face as she exchanged the red water on her hands for the clean one Aang had put on a container and positioned nearby. His heart throbbed inside his chest, a million thoughts going through his head at the same time.

Y/N was going to die. He was going to lose her. He would never see her smile again and he would never hear her laugh again and she would never tell him stories about her childhood again. He would never watch her as she played around with Toph and he would never be able to peek at her as she trained her sword fighting skills anymore. He would never talk to her late at night and he would never appreciate the way her voice sounded again.

He would never feel his heart pick up whenever she walked inside a room again. He would never smile unconsciously just by seeing her smile again. And she would never know how much she meant to him, how much he genuinely liked her and everything she did.  He was going to lose her without even knowing if maybe, in a distant time, when the war was over and they were safe, she would want to stay with him, making him laugh and smiling that gorgeous smile of hers at him everyday. Sokka would never know if somehow she wanted him as much as he wanted her, with all his flaws and faults and fears.

He would never know and he would never have her by his side again and he wanted to scream until his throat was sore. He wanted to cry himself to sleep and pretend this was just a bad dream he would eventually wake up off hearing her beautiful laugh as she chatted with Katara and Toph during breakfast.

“Sokka? Please, tell me what is happening. How is Y/N?”

The Water Tribe warrior felt a sudden anger spark up inside him. He should’ve done something, he should’ve noticed she’d been hit, and so should the others. Weren’t they powerful benders? Couldn’t they sense everything through the earth or some other bullshit like that? Weren’t they better than him in every way? Well, they could have at least saved her.

“Shut up, Toph! This is your fault! You should have noticed she was wounded! You should have helped her before it was too late!”

He didn’t mean it. A part of him knew it was not her fault, but his brain was enveloped in pain and desperation and he just wanted someone to blame so he didn’t have to deal with the guilt forming in his chest. He was losing Y/N and there was nothing he could do about it.

Toph went from worried to pissed off quickly, tightening her hands in fists and sending a few rocks flying towards the sea surrounding the island, “how is this my fault?! I was fighting off a few soldiers too, you know? It’s not like I could have stopped everything I was doing and ran to her!”

He moved his arms around frantically, “you don’t even care about her!”

“I don’t care about her? She’s my best friend!”

“You obviously didn’t care enough to help!”

“Oh, you little—”

“That’s enough!” Katara’s voice sounded fragile but terrifying, averting her gaze from her bloody hands to glare at them. “I can’t concentrate with all this screaming!”

“Sokka started it!”

“I don’t care who started it!” she barked, her eyes burning with rage. “Get out!”

Sokka opened his mouth to oppose, feeling his entire body tense with the idea of being away from Y/N in such a moment, but didn’t get to as Aang took a hold of his arm and started to lead him towards somewhere else on the beach. Toph groaned in frustration before leaving in the opposite direction.

“You need to calm down,” Aang sounded serene while dragging his friend through the sand, “arguing is not going to get us anywhere. We need to be together right now to get through this.”

The Avatar turned to look at Sokka when he planted his feet in place, tears flooding his eyes. It almost seemed like Aang was telling him how they had to support each other through their upcoming grief.

He was going to lose her. Damn, he had probably already lost her. She was gone and she would never know.

“Sokka? Are you okay?”

“I—” he hesitated, trying so hard not to cry he could feel his head throb. “I don’t—,” he swallowed harshly, but the lump in his throat didn’t go away, “I can’t lose her, Aang,” his voice cracked miserably and he gave up on holding back his heartache, letting the tears fall down his face. A sob wrecked his body and a hint of understanding went through Aang’s eyes, the smaller boy coming closer to hold his forearms.

“You’re not going to lose her, Sokka. Katara is going to fix it and she’ll be okay.”

“No, she won’t,” it was getting hard to breathe between his cries, but if felt better than pretending everything was okay, “she’s gone. And I—I think I’m in love with her, and she’ll never know. She’ll die and she’ll never know.”

“Sokka—”

“This is what happens every time I have feelings for someone. I lost Yue and now Y/N too.”

“Sokka, your feelings for Yue weren’t responsible for what happened to her. She told you not to be afraid of love, remember? I’m sure she is proud of you for moving on and falling in love with Y/N, and if we lose Y/N, your feelings will not be to blame either. But we won’t, okay? Katara is going to save her, I promise. She will be fine and you will be able to tell her how you feel. Do you understand?”

Sokka felt himself crumble in pain, another sob escaping his lips as Aang hugged him tightly. He cried loudly, holding onto his friend for dear life.

“Y/N will be okay, Sokka. She is strong and she would never leave us like that, okay? Never. I promise.”

------

When Y/N opened her eyes, it was already dark. A tent had been put up around her, but she noticed the cold night breeze even before she saw the starry sky. 

She took notice of the neat bandages covering her stab wound. There was a soreness to her every movement, but the searing pain from before was gone. She exhaled deeply and tried to sit but quickly gave up at the ache that formed in her ribs. Lying on the sand, she breathed slowly.

“Y/N?” she turned her head towards the direction of who was calling her and found Toph’s grey eyes. The small girl seemed tired, rubbing the sleep of her eyes and furrowing her eyebrows as she called again, “Y/N, are you awake? I thought I heard something.”

“Hey. I’m awake,” she smiled softly, moving her arm the tiniest bit just so she could touch her friend’s leg. 

Toph immediately gave her the biggest smile, jumping up from her spot sitting down to try and hug her friend carefully, “Never do that again, you idiot!” a weak chuckle escaped Y/N as she tried to hug back, but it hurt too much. Toph didn’t mind. “You got us all so worried! Aang went crazy trying to keep everyone calm, Katara cried a whole lot, and Sokka got so nervous he screamed at me. He apologized, though, so I’m not angry at him anymore,” Toph widened her eyes in realization, “I have to tell them you’re finally awake! Wait here, I’ll come back in a second. Try not to get stabbed in the meantime.”

Y/N giggled at her words, sighing as she found herself alone in the tent. For a second, she let herself wonder: she wouldn’t be up and about for a while, that much was obvious. However, Team Avatar couldn’t deal with that kind of liability and she asked herself what they were going to do about it.

Aang was the first to arrive, hugging her so tight Katara started screaming at him to be mindful of her injuries as soon as she reached the entrance. They spoke briefly about the gravity of her wound and Katara scolded her for not telling them she had been stabbed sooner while Aang and Toph bit back their laughter.

“Y/N?” Sokka’s hoarse voice was enough to make silence ring through the tent, the bags under his eyes dark and unmissable. Y/N met his blue eyes, her heart clenching painfully when she noticed the bare sadness inside them. 

Katara cleared her throat, grabbing Aang and Toph gently and steering them outside, “we’ll be handling the supplies if you need us!”

“What? I want to stay with Y/N!”

“Spirits, Toph, shut up.”

The Fire Nation girl smiled at the arguing outside, averting his trained gaze. An awkward quiet settled between them — Y/N didn’t know exactly why there was such a heaviness to the air they shared, but it was too clear to ignore.

“I—” he hesitated, a crack to his words as he closed his eyes tightly. “You really scared me today.”

Y/N tried to sit up, frowning from the pain. Sokka immediately knelt down next to her to help and it felt too much like the night he first woke her up from a nightmare, saying soft words and treating her nicely. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, holding onto his forearms for support, “I didn’t exactly mean to.”

“I know,” he muttered in response, sitting down in front of her. She crossed her legs under her and they stared at each other for a few moments, thick tension surrounding them. She couldn’t help but notice how close they were to each other, so close she didn’t have to lean in too much for their lips to touch. Slowly and unsurely, Sokka brought his hand up to put a lock of hair away from her face. Her stomach fluttered at the touch and Y/N sighed happily. “I was just afraid.”

She blinked in soft confusion that made his insides bloom with butterflies, “afraid of what?”

“Of losing you.”

She smiled, “You know Katara would heal me, Sokka.”

“I care about you very much, Y/N,” the words stumbled out of his mouth while she stared, “more than I probably should, but I do. You,” he shook his head, hesitantly taking his hand away from her face and wiping the tears that had escaped his eyes, “you mean a lot to me.”

His heart seemed to burn while she took his hand in hers, squeezing it delicately, “you mean a lot to me too.”

He exhaled deeply, frustrated to no end. “No, Y/N. You don’t understand. I—damn, I don’t even know how to say this.”

“I get it.”

“You don’t. You have no idea how broken I was just by thinking of not having you around anymore. I was so scared. I thought I would never be able to tell you how I feel about you,” he let out a shaky breath before leading his eyes back to her face, “I really like you, Y/N.”

“I really like you too.”

He groaned, “no, Y/N. I mean that I like you.”

“Yes, I understood that much.”

“No, I mean I—” he was interrupted by her soft lips on his, moving so gently he was sure he could die from the sheer tenderness of it all. Sokka was fast to kiss her back, bringing his fingers up to hold her jaw while her hands went up to his hair, a sharp pain running through her body at the movement and making her hiss. He moved away instantly, but her arms held him close. Their noses were still touching and they breathed heavily, eyes trained on each other.

She smirked, “is that what you meant?”

He chuckled weakly, rubbing circles on her jaw fondly with his thumb, “yeah. You’re way better at confessions than I am.”

Y/N threw her head back in laughter and he grinned at her happiness, “why, thank you.”

The couple gazed at each other, eyes sparkling with love. She sighed before leaning in and giving him a quick peck, giggling when his lips followed her blindly as she distanced her face from his. Sleepiness was catching up to her from the exhaustion of being hurt.

“Come on, waterboy. Lay with me.”

Sokka helped her lay back down, lying beside her and feeling his cheeks flush with delight when she snuggled up to him, getting into a comfortable spot with her head placed on his chest. He carefully positioned his hands on her waist, stroking her side absentmindedly. Her eyes fluttered close with satisfaction.

“Did Katara ask about your scar?”

“Not really. I think she was too worried trying to save me from death and all that.”

“Oh, I’m sure she was.”

She grinned, moving to play with his hair and exhaling contently, “I’m glad you’re here.”

He tightened his hold around her, warmth coating his every touch, “so am I, firegirl. So am I.”

In that moment, Y/N cared for nothing but the way his skin felt on hers and the sound of his heart beating under her ear.

so I asked @azucanela​ @beifongsss​ and @sokkascroptop​ on anon if I could tag them when this was done and they said yes so here it is? please give me honest criticism I have no idea of what I’m doing and I admire you all very much thank you!!

[castiowl]

It's Not Traditional a lil dean/cas proposal ficlet

Dean’s not sure how he always gets saddled with popcorn duty, although he’ll be the first to admit this time he’s not too bothered by it. Sam had picked out Four Weddings and a Funeral for movie night and the aforementioned funeral is about to happen and Dean would rather not weep like a baby in front of Sam, Eileen, and Cas when Matthew recites that Auden poem.

As the popcorn bag spins in the microwave, slowly inflating, Dean considers all that’s changed in the past few months. He wasn’t sure someone could survive changing as much as he has, but then again maybe he hadn’t changed so much as he has just accepted who he is. Someone who loves Cas, first of all. Best of all. Someone who loves men and has loved men for a very long time and that’s okay. Relatedly, someone who can now openly comment on Hugh Grant’s veritable attractiveness in front of his brother, his friend, and his—what? What are they? Boyfriends? They’re not in high school, although the giddiness Dean still feels even months after the fact when Cas presses a hand to his lower back or steals a quick kiss from him at the breakfast table before shuffling off to make coffee, makes it feel a lot like obsessive, all-encompassing high school love. Dean is thrumming with it, a smile always moments away.

[Read on AO3]

Dean has also accepted that he is someone who can sit down with his brother, his friend, and his whatever and watch Four Weddings and a Funeral and only grouse about it being a chick flick for thirty seconds (he hasn’t completely tossed his reputation for hating girly shit in the trash; but he’ll never admit it’s because the girly shit makes him soft and he’s not sure his heart can take that right now) before accepting Sam’s declaration that ”it’s a classic” and absolutely required watching for Cas. Plus Eileen points out it’s one of the only movies with a deaf character whose entire plot isn’t centered around the fact that he’s deaf, even if he is a minor character.

The microwave beeps at him and he empties the contents into a bowl. As he nears the doorway to the movie and gaming den, he’s disappointed to note that Sam apparently paused the movie when Dean left. Great. He could feign a headache, he supposes, but then there is a delightful little thought that maybe Cas will take pity on his sorry, weeping self and let Dean spend the rest of the movie curled against him on the couch in his arms. They try to keep the PDA to a minimum with Sam around, but this is what he gets for bringing Four Weddings and a Funeral into the mix. He’s a sadist and he gets what he deserves.

Dean’s about to round the corner into the room when he hears his name and pauses. He hesitates because he likes to consider himself an adult who understands boundaries, but he’s also Dean Winchester and if Sam wants to talk shit about him behind his back, then Dean deserves to hear about it so he can retaliate accordingly. He’s thinking Miracle needs a bath and maybe Sam’s bedroom is the perfect place to let loose a 60-pound sopping wet dog to dry himself off on his bedsheets.

“I suppose I never considered it,” Cas is saying, his voice low but carrying in the quiet of the room. “There isn’t much that’s traditional about what we are.”

“Sure, yeah, true,” Sam replies. “But it’s not just about tradition, y’know. Anyway, I was just curious. You guys don’t have to do anything, obviously. But I just…” There’s a pause and Dean can almost perfectly conjure the image of Cas’s prying look in his mind, aimed right at Sam. “Dean’s a romantic,” Sam says finally.

Dean frowns at that, a protest rising in his throat before he can remind himself that given the last three months, he has absolutely no leg to stand on. He is a romantic. Gross.

“Well, I’m sure if Dean wanted to get married, he would tell me.”

The bowl of popcorn slips from Dean’s hands and lands with an impossibly loud clang on the floor. Married. The word has Dean completely flustered and he’s still reeling when Miracle comes trotting out of the room to investigate, spots the popcorn, and goes absolutely feral, licking up the popcorn like it’s his last meal on earth.

“Agh! Miracle! Stop it! Fuck,” Dean makes an aborted attempt to stop Miracle, but he looks like he’s discovered the holy grail, his tail wagging a mile a minute as he hoovers up the popcorn.

“Dean?”

Dean glances up from where he’s on his knees, holding an empty bowl as Miracle frantically cleans up the mess he made.

Married.

“Hey,” Dean says and his voice cracks like the fucking traitor it is. He clears his throat. “Sorry. I’ll have to make another bowl.”

“You were eavesdropping.”

It’s not a question. But Cas has this little quirk of a smile on his face that has Dean’s heart pounding in his ears.

Married.

“Uh, yeah, well. Heard my name and had to make sure Sammy wasn’t telling lies about me.”

Cas huffs a laugh and leans against the doorway. Dean’s still on the floor and he thinks about standing but he’s not entirely sure his legs would hold him up because—

MARRIED.

“Well, Dean, you tell me. Was Sam lying?”

“Lying?”

“Would you like to get married?”

Just like that. Dean will never admit to this, but privately he has thought about it. Big romantic gestures involving flowers and music, and quieter proposals whispered in the dark, in their bedroom, against the nape of Cas’s neck. Dean’s always been too scared, too unsure of Cas and his thoughts on the decidedly antiquated ritual of marriage. Cas saying no is basically the worst thing Dean can imagine, and he’s seen some shit in his time. Besides, it’s only been three months.

Cas’s eyebrow has risen in a silent question. Well?

“Jesus, Cas, you can’t just ask me that like…”

“No, of course not,” Cas agrees. “And you’re already on your knees. Ask me.”

“What?”

“Ask me,” he repeats and Dean can see the mirth in his eyes. The little shit loves seeing Dean squirm, but two can play at that game. Dean pulls one leg up so he’s down on one knee, the proper stance if he’s going to do this. Which, holy shit, he thinks he’s going to do this.

“Make an honest man outta me, Cas,” Dean says.

Cas rolls his eyes but he’s smiling. “Sam said you were a romantic.”

“What? That was romantic as hell.”

Cas reaches out a hand and Dean takes it. Cas pulls him to his feet. “You didn’t even tell me you loved me,” Cas points out.

Dean pulls himself into Cas’s space, their hands still clasped between them. “I also don’t have a ring,” Dean says.

“Well,” Cas says and his tongue darts out to wet his lips, Dean following the movement with great interest, “nothing we’ve done so far has been traditional. Perhaps we should keep it that way.”

Dean’s heart sinks. He should’ve figured as much. It’s not like they need something as basic as marriage to solidify what they have. It’s already perfect. Don’t fix what ain’t broke, right?

“But,” Cas continues thoughtfully, “I think I would like this to be our one exception.”

Dean swallows down the anxiety building behind his sternum. “Really?”

Cas smiles widely at that, his nose crinkling in that way that makes Dean understand why people swoon when they’re in love in old movies. Fuck, he really loves this guy.

“Marry me,” Cas says.

“Fuck yeah,” Dean replies and closes the distance between them with a fervent kiss. Cas inhales sharply and returns the kiss enthusiastically, although it’s clear they’re both fighting not to smile.

Someone clears their throat from the doorway.

Dean pulls back. He and Cas stare at one another and Dean sees reflected in Cas’s eyes what he’s feeling: pure, unadulterated, passionate love. And maybe a little lust, but it’s mostly love, Dean swears.

“If you guys are done being gross, we still have the movie to finish,” Sam says.

Dean finally looks over at his brother in the doorway who is trying his best to look peeved, but he can’t help smiling.

“Perhaps we can finish another time,” Cas says, turning to look at Sam. “My fiancé and I have some business to discuss regarding our upcoming nuptials.” He turns back to Dean and adds, “In our bedroom.”

Sam feigns gagging. “Spare me the details. Congrats or whatever. Now fuck off.”

“Gladly,” Dean replies and pulls Cas back down the hallway toward their bedroom. Dean has one thought before he lets his mind become saturated in all the simple, lurid thoughts that come with sex: Dean is going to marry the shit out of Cas.

[static-fanatic-1]

Yandere!All For One x Fem!Reader

Warning: Non-con, Fingering, Kidnapping, Mentioning of stalking, Spooky gift giving, Reader has a powerful healing quirk activated by bodily fluids (it’s important).

Word count: 7.3k

~~~~~

You nervously bit your lip, twiddling your hands and fingers to relive the anxiety creeping up your spine. Recovery Girl, the healing hero that decided to take you under her wing, decided it would be good idea for you to meet a colleague of hers to get some physical training. It was an important thing that you needed to learn despite your quirk.

The slender yet short woman took a weary glance at you. "Calm down (y/n), you have no reason to be nervous."

You jumped at the sound of her voice. "I-I know, what if they don't think I'm worth training though?" You've always been self councious of your quirk. Though it was insanely powerful, mainly for other people, it turned you into a physically sickly person. To simply put it, what you thought was not worth training.

A disappointed sigh left her lips. Recovery girl, still not looking her age as of yet, was a short woman with dark black hair, peppered with more white streaks than her natural color, dressed in a bun with her usual hero look going on. "Gran Torino won't push you too hard, besides he's training Toshinori! You know him right? The third year who's really strong?"

A slight blush tinted your cheeks. "Uh, y-yes ma'am!" God you hated it when you became a stuttering mess, especially when that specific third year was mentioned. Ever since you bumped into him in the halls you couldn't shake away your growing crush. It was totally embarrassing. Even your classmate, Enji Todoroki, lightly made fun of you for it.

Ms. Shuzenji lightly chuckled at your reddened expression. "Gran Torino said he would meet us in one of the gyms after school hours. Since you're a first year and you don't have your provisional license yet, we aren't supposed to train you off of school grounds." She further explained.

"When I get my license will it be alright for me to train off campus? Or could he just take me in for hero studies?"

"Technically you already are under hero studies because I'm training you, and because I'm a teacher I can't allow you to train off school grounds." The two of you turned a corner, now face to face with the large door separating you two from the racket going on on the other side. Both of you exchanged a confused look before opening the doors.

From what you were witnessing, you probably shouldn't have agreed to working with Gran Torino.

The yellow blur flew from floor to ceiling, and wall to wall just to slam his feet into the poor boy's body. Each attack seemed more painful than the last as he desperately tried to keep up with his sensei.

Toshinori paused, as did Gran Torino, and excitedly straightened his stance. With a finger pointing in your general direction his face lit up. "Your that first year I bumped into! Gran Torino you should have told me who-!"

His spat was quickly cut off by a pair of feet slamming against his ribs. The blond flew across the gym and into the concrete walls, dust fuming around his now hunched over form. "Don't get distracted, Toshinori." Torino scolded.

The average height hero turned, now facing the two female across the room. "So this is (l/n)? Nice to meet you." He said with a slight wave.

Recovery girl tapped your shoulder and motioned to the suffering boy, telling you to heal him without using her words. "Pl-pleasure to meet you too, sir." Quickly nodding in both of the hero's directions, you scurried over to the third year you unfortunately developed a crush over.

"Um, Toshinori Senpai, are you hurt?" 'What am I saying? Of course he's hurt!' Your flustered mumbling almost went unnoticed.

"Yeah, yeah, probably broke a rib... again." His blond hair framed his smiling face, the overly joyous expression only bringing you more concern.

"Again?! Here, let me help." You wrapped your arms around his form and lifted him into a seating position, doing your best to keep him upright. "Alright so this might be weird, but, are you okay with kissing me?" You twisted your face in a sad excuse for guilt.

Toshinori found it funny, but unexpected none the less. "K-kiss you?!" His face burst into a deep red blush while his words came out as coughs.

"Y-Yeah! I mean or lick you, whatever floats your boat I don't judge."

Gran Torino wondered over to the youthful hero. "So she's the healer? The one you wanted me to train alongside Toshinori right?"

She nodded and turned to look at her addresser. "Her healing is stronger than mine, and there are no repercussions on the person she uses it with. If the two of them get to know each other they could be an amazing team."

"Healing stronger than yours huh? How does it work?"

"Bodily fluids like blood and saliva." Shuzenji paused, letting the information sink in before continuing. "Her quirk has been used in ways it shouldn't have been used."

Gran Torino furrowed his brows and looked at the two students. Toshinori already looked much better than before. His skin seemed healthier, pained expression replaced with a bright red face, and the blood smeared on his mouth being wiped away like a memory. Still, he soaked in the new information as he watched the students embarrass themselves.

"Does she know about one for all?"

"No, but she's trustworthy enough to tell, eventually at least."

"Alright, alright, I'll train her."

~~~

After a few months of training under Gran Torino and Toshinori, you had grown a little bit stronger. At least as strong as you were able to get. Toshinori on the other hand made a lot more progress, his training also getting far more intense than you will ever be able to handle.

Enji tapped your shoulder, bringing you back to reality. He gave you a disappointed yet concerned look. "You need to focus, I don't want to help you with History again."

"Ah, sorry, sorry." He scoffed and grabbed his stuff to leave the classroom. "Wait for me!" You yelped, quickly stuffing your things in your bag to chasing after him. "Your legs are too long!"

The two of you wondered into the cafeteria and settled in your seats. You shuffled things around in your bag as Enji started to eat, you could feel him watching and judging you. "What?"

He slurped up his hot soba, taking his time before he decided it would be okay to explain his judgement. "You have been training with that third year huh? Yagi, isn't it?"

"O-oh! Um, yeah. Toshinori, he's been helping me get stronger despite my quirk's draw back." You shifted in your seat under his intense glare.

"And?" He pressed on.

"Oh you know, he's helping me learn how to fight and get physically stronger. Nothing too special. Why do you ask?"

A certain blond revealed himself, his bright smile almost blinding as he smacked his tray on the table next to you. "Hey (y/n), Todorok-kun!"

You jumped and covered your reddening face with your hands. "Ah! Hello Toshi-senpai!"

Enji glanced between the two of you, both of you have been rather close lately and the redhead was developing theories that have been plaguing his mind. "That's why I ask." He pointed to your bright red face.

Toshinori almost spat out his water when he glanced at your red face. "Woah! Todoroki-kun, it's nothing like that! Haha!"

"Y-Yeah! We're just training!" You spat out.

Enji just gave you a look, but overall decided against pressing further. Instead he sighed and glared at the third year.

You couldn't blame him though, Toshi was easily considered as strong as the pros, and Enji wanted to be on top of them all. He most likely saw him as competition.

You lightly laughed and tapped Enji's shoulder. "Don't over think it. Besides let's be honest, I need a lot more help than you do." You have the redhead a delicate smile, still he kept his condescending look.

"Don't you have to do chemistry homework you skipped?"

"Oh shit! That's next period!" You yelped and began the homework you skipped last night.

"Geez, I remember chemistry, I really struggled with that one." Toshi exclaimed, leaning back with his cheeks stuffed with pork cutlet and rice. "I can't help you with that one, (y/n)-chan."

"Don't worry, I'm surprisingly good at math and science. It's the other subjects I struggle with." You stuffed your face with your food as you quickly solved the problems on the sheet. "Enji actually helps me with the other ones, I help him with chemistry and maths."

"I don't need your help." Todoroki snapped back.

"Sure." Came out your muffled sarcasm. "Do you want me to check your homework?"

There was a slight pause, Toshinori placing his hand over his mouth to stop his growing laughter.

"Yes."

~~~

That was the beginning of the three of you. Toshi quickly climbed up the ranks as the number one hero. He left for America for a while, but kept in touch with you as you finished school and tried to make a name for yourself.

Enji quickly surpassed you, but he still stayed your dear friend. He found an organization and followed behind Toshi, climbing up the ranks and making a name at the early age of twenty.

They were strong, powerful, and you were everything else. Weak. The only thing you had going for you was your quirk, and even then it was taxing on your body.

You joined a smaller hero agency and continued developing your quirk. With your skill in chemistry you learned you can convert your bodily fluids into pill form. Though they don't work as well, it allows you to give people a full heal without loosing yourself.

Though you never seemed to be as lucky as you hoped. The hero you had come to know and trust abused your kindness, his other sidekicks finding it funny to stuff you full of their cocks and use you as a toy.

You never felt so humiliated and destroyed in your entire life. What started as a simple conversation drastically changed into the hero's using your quirk as an excuse to do as they pleased. They even threatened to ruin your career as a hero if you told anyone... but you just couldn't keep quiet.

That night you drove away, tears streaming down your reddened cheeks as the horrid feeling and taste lingered. You drove all the way to the current number nine's house and knocked on his door at 2:48 am. He lived alone, still focusing on climbing up the ranks to be number one.

Despite not seeing him in months and thinking you were only a distraction, he let you in.

Enji held you close as you sobbed and told him what happened, your words chocking on your cries. He let you clean up and stay for the night, as you didn't feel safe alone anymore. You slept on the couch that night, unbeknownst to you Enji called up Toshinori.

The three of you met up the next day to expose the so called heroes that defiled you. Without Enji and Toshinori, you wouldn't have been able to tell anyone, that or you would never be the hero you've always wanted to be.

You constantly look back on that day. You couldn't help but appreciate what your two friends did for you, especially when you are reminded of them. You would give anything to help them. Anything.

You joined All Might in his quest for heroism, becoming his sidekick and healing people he saved. He loved working with you, and you loved working with him. The spark between the two of you was obvious from the beginning, and as the two of you worked together the spark only grew.

You left for a while though, a well-known hero asking for your help in America. You bought a small apartment and began your own.

~~~

"Wait... what? He-he's...." You voice cracked, hand lightly tracing the bow on the flat triangular box on your bed. Smooth wrapping providing false comfort over the situation over the phone. Gran Torino's gruff, pained voice echoed in your ears and in your brain.

"Toshinori needs your healing, that or I'm afraid it will be the end of the Symbol of Peace." You shivered at his words, turning your back to your bed to sit down. Your hands rubbed your face and eyes from stress, not just from Toshi's conditions but the strange gifts you keep finding in your house. "Recovery girl already stabilized him, but your healing should finish the job."

"I understand, uh, I'll book a ticket-"

"Don't, we already bought a private plane ticket, we don't want the media to get involved." Gran Torino finished, sighing behind the screen. He must be feeling the same things you were feeling; stress and anxiety. Despite the stress he continued, giving the details of the flight he bought.

"Alright, alright. I'll get some pills ready and pack. Take care." He lightly chuckled, probably nodding behind the screen, before ending the call.

You dropped you phone on your bed and sighed. The hand that was tracing the wrapped gift paused over the red satin bow. A sense of dread crawled up your spine making you shiver.

You wanted to throw the thing away and let it rot in your dark closet, but after finally deciding to open the other ones up you decided that wasn't a good idea. Whoever has been sending you the few gifts wanted something you were too afraid to give.

Yesterday you opened the first gift, one with a purple bow and silver wrapping paper, and found a beautiful sun dress with a letter. At first you thought it was a fan, after all it wasn't too strange for you to find fans who gave you gifts like this, so you ignored the red flag of finding it on your temporary apartment door step.

But when you glanced at the letter, your blood froze. Written in fancy cursive, penmanship you could easily call perfect, was an alarming letter about compliments you could dismiss as a little strange. That was the second red flag.

The next few gifts had letters as well, each one more descriptive and alarming than the last. One described how entertaining it was for you to be so close to the number one hero All Might, and how the sender would enjoy taking you from him.

So when you found another gift, this time wrapped in a red bow with dark grey wrapping, you wanted to puke. You debated opening it up to save yourself some sanity and stress, but you were more afraid of the repercussions of not seeing what's inside.

With shaky breaths and an even shakier hand you unveiled the mystery box. You never felt so much dread in your life until you saw what was under the letter.

A gorgeous, obviously expressive set of black lingerie brought bile into your throat. Clasping your hand over your mouth you tried to swollen the nasty mixture as you continued your investigation. The set was lacey in a sultry way, seductive like it was meant for a lover to wear on their honeymoon.

You hated it, you feared it.

Especially the letters, you still didn't know who sent them but that only made you more afraid. So you read it, maybe you would know who was sending you these things, maybe you could get them arrested and save yourself the stress while you go heal Toshi.

'Dear (y/n) (l/n),

I consider myself a patient man, one that will wait until the time is right. I wish for you to wear the gift I have given you, it would greatly please me to see you in it when I come for you. So save yourself the pain-'

You stopped and gagged, crumpling up the carefully written letter and throwing it across the room. Anxious tears streamed down your face as you violently shook.

Their going to come for you? Why? When? Where? Here? No no no, not here. You'll be off back home in Japan, away from this sad apartment and away from the creepy stalker.

You glanced over at the lingerie, should you wear it? What would they do if you didn't wear it? Are they watching you now?

Once more you shivered, this time taking the lingerie and holding it close. You were terrified of the consequences so you decided to wear it. All you had to do now was get some pills ready and pack for the plane ride. So stop stressing.

~~~

You held your bags close, the satchel with your quirk infused pills even closer. Your anxiety was spiking, more so than it has ever before. You wore half of your hero costume, having on the white lab coat, jaw guard, and belts with sleeping syringes you created yourself. Usually you have heels with a dress shirt and pencil skirt, but instead you decided to wear something more comfortable. So you wore grey sweat pants and a black tank top under your white coat.

Grey and white mountains littered the horizon while vibrant greenery and large trees rose high into the sky. You exited the small plane and wondered over to Gran Torino. A solemn expression decorated your features as you met up with the group.

Gran Torino, Sir Nighteye, and Tsukauchi waited for you, Tsu being the only one to smile back. "Hey, Witch Doctor are you ready to head out?" Tsu wore a white dress shirt and black slacks with his favorite brown trench coat over his shoulders.

Gran Torino and Sir Nighteye wore their full hero costumes despite the long ride ahead.

Your smile widened ever so slightly as you nodded. "Please, call me (y/n). And yes, I have the pills if he wants to go that route, it should be more than enough to heal him all the way." You lifted up the satchel and waved it around.

They knew how your quirk worked, bodily fluids. So they understood how people in the past took advantage of that, so they were a little surprised when you mentioned giving All Might a choice. They didn't mention it though. "Could-can you... tell me about Toshi?"

Gran Torino grunted before waking to a few cars nearby. "His stomach was pretty much gutted, he's hanging on a thread thanks to Recovery Girl. He would've died otherwise."

Nighteye looked away with an uncomfortable expression. "If he-he didn't hold on for so long...." He mumbled away without wanting to finish his sentence.

"He'll be fine," Finished Tsukauchi. "He is fine, he just needs some help getting better."

You listened to the policeman, his enthusiasm seemingly forced and full of anxiety. "What happened to him?" You asked again, this time with more force.

They all stayed silent as they continued walking to the cars, so you stopped. "L-listen, I know why it might be hard to talk about, but-but I would like to know. There-there has been some crazy shit happening lately, and you said he was injured a few days ago? It just-just seems too... too coincidental? I guess?"

Tsukauchi turned to you with a worried expression. "Like what? Why haven't you told any of us?"

"I was-it is just-just a stalker but... I'm scared, you know? It started four-five days ago and it just seems too coincidental." You lightly laughed at yourself, your hands rubbing up and down your arms to try and calm your riled up nerves. "Never mind, I'm-I'm just stressing out. Maybe...."

Nighteye adjusted his glasses and peered into your soul. "Why would it be coincidental? What else happened?"

"There-there were letters. Letters with information only a few people should know about." Your body curled in on itself. "Some things about Nana, and you guys, and Toshi. Just a bunch of mumbo jumbo that has me scared."

Tsukauchi placed a hand on your shoulder. "Let's talk about this in the car." His delicate smile helped put you at ease, so you nodded and continued. "And if you really are worried maybe Nighteye can look into your future?"

The tall, suit wearing man scoffed as he entered the passengers seat. "I'm not exactly okay with something like that."

"It would help." You meekly said, getting into the car. The men took a nice long look at you, how you shivered and stared with a furrowed brow. It was like you were playing out scenarios of all the bad things that could happen to you. "But I understand-!"

"You look pathetic like that." Nighteye shifted in his seat as Gran Torino started the car. "I'll do for you, but you can't change what will happen. I've tried."

You shyly smiled at him and nodded your head. "That's fine with me, I just want to mentally prepare myself, ya' know?"

"That's a good idea, Witch Doct-I mean (y/n)." Tsu corrected himself and shifted next to you.

"Right, thanks guys." You and Sir looked into each others eyes, a small shiver running up your spine as his left eye turned into a purple-black storm.

All four of you waited as the car sped through the Japanese wilderness. The large green trees provided shade and small rays of sunlight peeking through. The road was long and curved on the side of the mountain you were descending. It was peaceful, calm... too calm.

The thick air was interrupted by a gasp, Nighteye's calculating eyes shifting to the sunroof of the small car. His body was rigid, his face twisted in growing fear. "Stop the car!"

Gran Torino smashed the breaks causing the car to screech and dangerously swerve to a stop. "Whats-?!"

He couldn't finish his sentence before a large, swirling purple mass emerged from nothing before the group. A large hand emerged, a rocky face following behind.

"Get our of the car!" Sir Nighteye screeched, grabbing Gran Torino and pulling him out with him. Tsukauchi dashed out and joined the others against the cliff side.

You unbuckled and reached for the door handle, but you were too late.

The large figure fully emerged and smacked his hand against the car, knocking it off the steep cliff side and into the mass of trees below. You screamed and held your body as close as possible, the car shoving you every which way. Glass shattered, metal crushed against itself, you hit your head so much you could taste the blood in your mouth.

A loud crash echoed through the forest floor, bird and animals fleeing to a far away safety. You coughed, trying to drag your body out the broken window next to you.

Your arm shrieked in pain, it must be broken, you thought. Still you refused to be a sitting duck. You clawed your way out of the car, praying all of your things are in one piece.

Gran Torino appeared in front of you and helped you out before hopping away. The giant from before jumped down beside the car, the ground around him crumbling under his feet. "Everything I do is for my master." The giant chanted his mantra, his eyes glueing to your form with heart stopping ferocity.

Nighteye fell from above and slammed his feet against the giant's head, knocking him off his rhythm.

He grunted and stumbled into a tree, trampling the plant in the process. He took the broken tree and rips it from the ground just to chuck it back at Sir Nighteye.

"Watch out!" You swallowed your blood and spit to heal yourself just enough to get into the fight. You shoved your support mask over the lower half of your face, letting it pierce through your skin so you can drink your blood. "Torino! Make sure Tsukauchi is okay, I'll go for Sir!"

"Get in and get out!" Quickly you two split up.

You dashed over to Sir Nighteye and pulled him from the colliding tree. You drank your blood and building saliva to slowly heal your wounds, your broken arm mending itself enough for you to use it.

The tree burst into splinters. Sir found his footing and pulled you behind another tree. "Are you okay?" He asked, holding you close while looking at the giant behind him.

"Yeah, yeah. What did you see in your vision? We'll get out right?"

Sir Nighteye bit his bottom lip. He didn't know what he should do, tell her and give up or try and fight fate. "That's not important right now." He commented calmly, but internally he was at war.

He saw your future, one where you were taken after everyone else was too hurt to fight back. Gran Torino would jump in to try and save you, Tsukauchi begging for you be set free from the cliff side. Gran Torino would be caught and killed when he tries to save you, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Sir Nighteye almost debated letting you get caught just so the rest of them could get away unharmed.

You glanced at him before pulling the two of you were crushed by the giant. "Focus Sir! We need to group up with Torino and Tsu. This guy is really strong."

"We can't take him on." He blurted out.

"What do mean?" Your voice came out shaky, the giant already on his way to fight you two again. He trudged over and loomed above you and Sir, growling as he swiped Sir Nighteye away. The giant had a hint of a smile of his face when he gripped your form in his iron like grip.

You jolted in his hold and fumbled with your hero costume to pull out the syringes, all of them. Quickly you stabbed the giant's neck and pumped his system with five of your homemade concoctions.

Gran Torino grabbed Nighteye before he slammed against a tree, carefully putting the fading man on the ground. Torino stared up at your thrashing form, but before he could rush up to help you a hand tightly gripped his forearm. "Don't, if you go you'll die!"

Nighteye's grip tightened once he heard Tsukauchi scream from above.

"We can't let them take her, she's the only one that can heal Toshinori!" Gran Torino argued, thrashing away and dashing to save you.

The giant wobbled from the potent amount of drugs in is system, but it didn't stop him. A new purple portal formed in front of the two of you, and a newfound vigor was found in the giant. "Gran Torino!" Your voice echoed with unadulterated terror.

You could see him coming to help you, but you could also feel the giant prepare an attack against your friend. If you were taken Toshi wouldn't get the drugs, Gran Torino would get seriously injured if he got too close. You didn't want to see that happen, so you grabbed the satchel and threw it as hard as possible at Torino, smacking him against the face and knocking him to the ground.

The giant trudged into the portal with you over his shoulder, leaving your hero buddies in the ruined forest. He kneeled down and swayed from the drugs, letting you fall to the ground below him.

A man of purple mist and a dress vest walked over, his misty hands clamped over his front. "Witch Doctor," he addresses," I would appreciate it if you followed me."

You bit your lip, still being looked over by the giant man behind your hunched form. You wanted to ask a question, to yell and scream and thrash until they were too annoyed to keep you alive... but you were too afraid to even try.

Was this the man sending you the letters? Was this the legendary All For One Toshi warned you about? "Who-who are you?" Your voice betrayed you and cracked under your fear.

Yellow eyes evaluated your own (e/c) ones. The mist man in front of you seemed to be figuring out what happened to the woozy giant behind you, but you couldn't tell in those yellow voids of his. "My name is Kurogiri, now, follow me." His tone shifted into a more violent one.

You shivered under his gaze, a figure showing up beside him. A judgmental figure at that, short with large goggles and a mustache. Though this new addition discarded you with a quiet mutter under his breath.

Kurogiri finally had enough waiting and grabbed you by your wounded forearm, making you cringe as he pulled you through the dull halls of the facility. The environment was filled with dark greys, bright blues and a metallic shine. "Where are we going?"

"You are going to heal my master."

You didn't need to hear anymore before understanding what was going to happen. You pulled your injured arm from his grip, wincing at the pain, and ran as fast as you could.

Sadly you didn't get as far as you would have wanted. A purple portal swept you off your feet, making you fall into a new room entirely. Your body slammed against the hard floor without mercy.

Kurogiri sighed and stepped through a portal he made for himself, once again dragging you to your feet. The room was dark, but clean and barren none the less. The sounds that echoed through the room was that of a breathing machine and medical equipment.

"You may leave, Kurogiri. I'll take it from here."

A haunting voice shook you to your core, it was deep and threatening, yet mocking and intrigued. The man of mist turned on his heels and left, closing the portal behind him. Your heat beat loudly in your chest, suffocating and causing you to hyperventilate.

The voice boomed with laughter, a strained sound complimenting the 'wrrr's of the machines. "You have no reason to be afraid, (y/n)." The hands gripping the floor violently shook, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. "Now come here."

His mammoth sized hand stalked out of the darkness covering his body, tempting you to take it. You could see the underlying of his mouth, bright white teeth gleaming in mockery. "I suggest you don't keep me waiting, I've been patient enough." He added.

Your feet acted on their own volition, moving you closer to the shadowed figure. He could probably hear your uneven breathing from the bed he sat in. Once you stood beside the bed, tears streaming down your cheeks, he roughly grabbed your wrists and pulled you on top of him. Your legs straddled his hips as he sat up, a sigh escaping his barely visible lips.

"I must confess, (y/n), I've had my eyes on you for quite sometime." His mocking tone brought more tears to fall. "At first I was going to take you after I killed Nana, just to torture All Might some more. Then I learned of your quirk and wanted it for myself, but it wouldn't exactly be useful if I took it would it?"

His mammoth hands wrapped tightly around your wrists, forcing them to cup his cheeks around his sickening smile. "I asked a question." His voice shifted into a scolding tone, his hands slipping from your arms to your waist.

"N-no, it wouldn't."

All For One's smile widened at your scared tone. "Are you scared?" He mocked. "Where's that smile All Might preaches, huh?" You jolted in his lap as his cold hands touched the flesh of your hips. He snickered at your skittish reactions. "You are much cuter up close, you know that?"

Submit or fight back? You tried that a long time ago, fighting back, and it made everything so much worse. You were afraid, terrified of fighting back against this man. Were you afraid of death? No, you never thought yourself to be, but maybe you were wrong. The suffocating feeling of him staring you down like prey made you think he was death itself. And that made you fucking terrified.

His humming and hands sliding your shirt up brought you back to reality. "Wa-wait!"

He grumbled and stopped. "Go on."

"I can heal you another way! It'll hurt less but-but it'll take a little longer." You stutter to try and save your skin, but the never faltering smile he gave told you it was all for not.

His hands also proved that theory. They roamed up your tank top, tapping each finger against your skin for more insult to injury. "You're so sweet, worrying about me. I'm sure you already know who I am, don't you?"

You nodded and tried to shift away from the man's touches. He groaned at the friction down below. Time stopped when you heard that noise, a meek squeak emitting from your throat. He mockingly laughed at the sound. "I'll take that as a yes."

He started to take off your clothes, gently, slowly, layer by layer. Shivers and tears shocked your body, you hated it, but you were too afraid to even think about fighting back. Pieces were thrown to the stone floor, your hero costume being stripped from you.

All For One's grin widened more than you thought possible. "You wore the lingerie I bought for you. I'm flattered." His hands cupped your covered breasts, the thumbs tracing the lace. You held back a mewl when he undid the clasp and started kneading the mounds. Forefingers and thumbs tweaked your nipples, pulling and pinching the sensitive flesh.

Your hands stayed glued to his face, the tips of your fingers grazed mauled flesh but quickly pulled away. The man below you noticed, chuckled, and forced your hands onto his mauled face again. "This is what your precious All Might did to me, cruel isn't it?"

A shiver ran down your spine at the odd sensation he forced in your finger tips. Calloused hands dragged down your waist to your panty line, pulling the clothe to the side. His thick finger ran up your slit, collecting the small amount of fluid that had built up. He returned it to his lips and dragged his tongue to lap up the liquid pleasure.

All For One shuddered and groaned at the taste. the man could feel your quirk taking effect, the burning sensation already taking hold the more he tasted. Animalistic pleasure grabbed him by the throat, his lips crashing into your own. He wanted more of that sweet taste, the taste that would heal him back into completion over and over and over again.

He wanted you, all of you.

Saliva mixed in both of your mouths as his tongue slipped past your lips. He groaned and tightened his already iron grip on your hips, your bones creaking under the strain. You meekly shrieked when he bit down on your bottom lip, sucking and drinking the blood.

The wound quickly healed up so he kept his assault, biting and sucking and drinking the blood. Your hands slid to his clothed chest, trying to push off.

All For One wasn't having it though, he stripped himself of his suit jacket and dress shirt and pulled your form closer to him. His clothed groin strained in his pants, you could feel it prodding your nether regions. One hand snaked into your (h/l) (h/c) hair to keep your lips locked with his, the other hand cupping and rubbing your sex.

You accidentally moaned into the kiss, earning a amused groan from your captor. The man let go of your bruising lips to listen to your cute mewls. His hands sped up, using the base of his palm to rub your clit as one of his thick fingers entered the sex.

He mercilessly pumped the finger, curling and prodding at the spongy spot inside you. Your legs trembled around him, hands sliding up to his shoulder for something sturdy to hold. You hated how pleasurable this felt, you hated how it was him who made you feel like this.

"St-sto-ah-p! I-I-!" He chuckled at your meek attempts, his lips crashing into your neck and biting harshly. "Gah!" You could feel the blood drip down your collar bone before being lapped up. All For One added another finger and scissored around to stretch you out.

You could feel the rumbling of his throat, the tightening and tensing of his muscles, all from your bodily fluids. Your own wounds lightly healing, leaving black and blue bruises in its wake.

He added a third figure, stuffing you full. His palm roughly hit your clit with each intense thrust. Your toes curled, stomach tensing. You could feel your release emerging, and he could tell. "Go on," He moaned. "Don't hold back."

Your legs clamped around his hips as your pleasure reached its peek. Throwing your head back you loudly moaned into the abyss of the dark room. Your release hitting like a truck as you shivered.

All For One laughed as he licked his fingers clean, both groaning from the taste and the pain shooting through his healing body. It was strange how his head tingled and burned as it healed. Arms wrapped tightly around your form, glueing you to his chest as you came down from your high.

As you sunk lower in his lap, sweat face against his chest, you could hear the light echo of his belt buckle being undone. Your pleasure foggy mind didn't follow the sound, only wanting to soak in his warmth and go to sleep. You squirmed around his movements until something hard rubbed your clit.

Hands gripped your hips harshly, lifting you up suddenly just thrust you balls deep onto his hard cock. You screamed and clawed at his shoulders, drawing a small amount of blood.

You never felt so stuffed in your life, his cock pressing in all the right places without giving you any extra room. His head pressed against your crevix, prodding at your womb. Your slick helped ease the pain but his massive size kept you writhing under his grip.

All For One's rigid breath echoed like a dark mantra to your pained squeaks. He lifted you by your hips and slammed you back down.

You strangled out a moan with each deep thrust. The hard cock jabbed your insides to make you see stars, your body warming up to the abuse. You gasped every time his head pushed against your entrance of your womb.

Your breasts bounced, the liquid between your thighs drenching his dress pants, and the friction between your legs riding you closer to the edge of ecstasy. He thrust his hips to meet yours as he lifted you up and kept pushing you back down with feverish force. Each thrust bumped painfully your insides, pushing farther and deeper.

"You're not a virgin are you? Has All Might fucked you like this?" All For One's tone changed from the usual mocking to seething hatred. "Has he marked you like this? Ravaged your cunt until he had you screaming?" He lifted you all the way to his tip and slammed you down hard.

The head of his cock pushed through your crevix and into your womb from his force. You shrieked from the painful feeling, but the sadistic sensation pushed you over the edge.

Your walls clamped tightly around his length and gushed liquid pleasure on his lap. The man loudly groaned when your walls sucked him deeper. He kept going, thrusting and pushing deeper, faster, and stronger.

The liquid from your body twisting his flesh back to its original state. It hurt like hell, you could tell as his large hands crushed your hips like grapes. Fat tears streamed down your reddened cheeks, sobs echoing through the mostly empty room.

All For One's thrusts quickly became sloppy, obviously chasing his own release. "He's been replaced, I'll fill you up and mark you as my own! He'll never see you again, I'll make sure of it!"

Hot ropes of white spilled into your womb effectively making you see stars. Both of you tensed and shook at the force of the orgasm. Your third climax tore into the last of your energy, making you pass out from sheer exhaustion.

All For One released his tight hold on your hips, eyeing your form with a deranged smile. Bruises lined your neck, collarbone, and hips. Your quirk would heal them a bit, but you would need time to allow them to fully heal.

The dangerous man, on the other hand, was healed to the point where he wouldn't need the breathing machine to live. He wasn't healed all the way, that would only happen after a few more sessions, but it was a start.

His gaze fell on your soft features, no longer perturbed by his actions and instead twisted into a delicate serenity. You looked peaceful blissfully unaware of what he had in store for you, not that he minded.

~~~

You shift in your sleep, scrunching your nose at some unknown pain down below. A plush pillow rest below your head, and almost acted like a chain keeping you down. Despite the comfort, you forced yourself to get up. Groaning, you threw off your covers and stretched out like a cat. Wincing from the pain and sitting up in the overly warm and soft bed.

You took the opportunity to soak in your surroundings. The colors were warm, a dresser parallel with a door on the opposite side of the room. Everything looked meticulously placed and expensive. The room was large and had a door off to the side, probably the bathroom, with a pair of sliding doors, most likely a closet, and an archway leading to another room.

You stumbled out of the bed and limped around the room. A mirror on the wall revealed what you looked like. Hickies littered your neck and collarbone, your once broken arm wrapped in bandages to help it heal. A lavender colored nightgown draped just above your still shaky thighs. You winced and lifted it up, more bandages around your bruised hips.

He was rough, that was something you could remember. You probably didn't heal him all the way either, that must be why he kept you alive.

You jumped and turned in the direction of some new noises. Heavy footsteps echoed through the room next over so you peeked behind the archway to see who decided to show up.

All For One slipped off his large dress shoes with his back to you. You could kill him, couldn't you? The man's back was facing you, all you needed was a blade or blunt object. You glanced around the room but found nothing, then again you had the feeling he already knew where and what you were doing.

"How did you sleep, (y/n)?" You swallowed the lump of spit in your throat as you gripped the archway. "Hm?" He peered over his shoulder, the sickening smile that haunted your nightmares stretching across his thin lips. His head was still mangled, but it was now healed into a large, clean scar.

"Why am I here?" You asked.

He turned to fully face you and stepped nearer, his bulky form looming over your frail body like a veil. His hand moved to your cheek, caressing the flesh in an all too intimate act of affection. "I think you already know the answer to that." He mused, dipping to let his lips graze the shell of your ear.

You shivered.

"You're mine."

[fandom-monium]

For the Holidays - Part 3

Summary: In which Spencer doesn’t want to go to his high school reunion, but you tagging along changes things. “Please, we're FBI agents. I think we have enough stealth training to get by.”

WC: 2k

Tags/Warnings: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader, fake-dating trope, pining (so much pining), fluff, descriptions of panic/anxiety (non-extreme), defensive Spencer, angst but not from unnecessary trauma, emotional-support Reader, reunion arc, song fic

I'm at a party I don't wanna be at And I don't ever wear a suit and tie, yeah Wondering if I could sneak out the back Nobody's even looking me in my eyes Then you take my hand Finish my drink, say, "Shall we dance?" (Hell, yeah) You know I love ya, did I ever tell ya? You make it better like that

You shield your eyes, “Your class sure knows how to throw a party.”

Immediately, you’re blinded by white and gold, the strobe lights bouncing off the matching streamers and balloons surrounding you. Gingerbread and peppermint bombards your noses as Mariah Carey blasts from the overhead speakers, well-dressed men and women swaying all over the gymnasium. Others laugh, walk around, eat, catching up with old friends. It reminds you of a middle school winter formal, aside from the understandable sophistication that comes with age. And the alcohol.

However, there’s hundreds of faces; they’re worn, deep-set, and wrinkled over time but Spencer would recognize them anywhere.

Memories flood in. His heart rate skyrockets.

No, no, no! Not now!

You feel Spencer tense next to you before you see it. His eyes are unblinking and his breathing quickens.

You don’t hesitate, dragging him aside and sticking to the wall.

“I-I’m so-sorry,” Spencer manages between shuttered breaths.

"Sorry? For what?" You don’t look at him, gently guiding him with a hand on his back, eyes searching. You stop next to a Christmas tree. Perfect. Shadowed, private. No one will look twice at a couple in a secluded corner.

Spencer ducks his chin, “F-for all this.”

Although Underneath the Christmas Tree thunders overhead, you still catch the small whimper that escapes him. Your chest tightens; you knew he was bullied, but what the hell did these people do to make him react like this?

Knowing you won’t get answers now, you rest his back against the wall, shielding him from prying eyes. “Reid, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not 'fine',” He rasps, shaking his head. He tries to focus on something⎼anything⎼but tears muddle his vision. So he shuts his eyes and presses a hand over his pounding heart, willing it to calm down. It refuses. “You came all this way to help me, and-and now I’m wasting your time⎼”

“Woah, hold up,” You grasp his free arm, stepping closer and trying to meet his eyes. Mindful of his aversion to touch and his germaphobic tendencies, you leave a sliver of space. 

It doesn’t go unnoticed. Spencer feels your warmth bloom even through the sleeve of his blazer. 

“You have nothing to apologize for. None of this was a waste of time, and honestly, I still would have come along had you asked, even if I didn’t have to act as your partner.” Your smile turns shy as you add, “And for what it’s worth, I had a lot of fun today.” 

Your words, while an attempt to comfort him, only sends his heart into hyper-speed. He finally meets your gaze, blinking through unshed tears. “Really?”

“Really.” 

Your eyes, tender and earnest, sparkle in the strobe lights. Spencer thinks, if you keep looking at him like that, he might kiss you.

He doesn't even notice his heartbeat leveling as you lace your hand over his tentatively pulling it away from his pounding heart. He flushes when you don’t let go. “Reid, this can wait. Whatever your bullies told you, whatever they did, you prove them wrong every time you put a bad guy behind bars, every time you finish a geo-profile, every time you save a life. You can always try another time. If it really is too much, we can leave now and you can show me that first bar you went to, the one that gave you shots of apple juice?”

Your smile broadens as Spencer gives you a wobbly grin. "You think anyone will notice us leaving?"

You snort, "Please, we're FBI agents. I think we have enough stealth training to get by."

Spencer chuckles. Without another word you pull away from him, leading him towards the exit, hands still intertwined as the double doors come into view. Then you feel Spencer resist and you pause, glancing over your shoulder. 

He’s looking at you, and for the first time, you see him looking at you like he’s never done before. 

But he has. The only difference is it’s completely unrestrained. Spencer has looked at you like this time and time again⎼eyes soft and brimming with adoration⎼never to your face, always held back in fear of what it could mean, how’d you react.

Right now he doesn’t care. He just… wants you to know. To understand.

You chalk it up to the lighting. 

“I know I said this already, but,” His eyes crinkle and his voice, though wavers, is laced with such warmth, you nearly melt on the spot. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

… Oh dear. Only Dr. Spencer Reid could knock the air out of you with just words.

Not sure of what else to say, you bite your lip and nod, lips threatening to turn into a full blown grin. “Me too.” You ignore the way your heart pounds. 

Not now.

Satisfied, he moves to leave, tugging you behind him as you approach the exit.

“Spencer Reid? Is that you?”

You freeze.

We at a party we don't wanna be at Tryna talk, but we can't hear ourselves Read your lips, I'd rather kiss 'em right back With all these people all around

I'm crippled with anxiety But I'm told it's where we're s'posed to be You know what? It's kinda crazy 'cause I really don't mind When you make it better like that

It’s been over a decade. Her voice comes hesitant, deeper than he remembers but he could never forget.

“Reid.” 

Your voice shakes him out of his stupor and he glances at you.

Right, he’s got you. He’s safe with you. 

You frown. “Who’s this?”

Before he can conjure an answer (he’s not even sure if he wants to), the woman steps up, “Hi, I’m Alexa Lisbon. I was Reid’s… classmate.” She says it slow, like she’s not entirely sure either, offering a hand and a tight-lipped smile. You introduce yourself, taking her hand.

Spencer wishes he brought a bottle of hand sanitizer. 

Honestly, the one time he doesn’t bother? IQ 187, my ass.

Pushing down his discomfort, he inches himself between Alexa and you, despite the subtle tremble in his hands.

It’s actually her. She's aged just like everyone around them, wrinkles by her eyes and smile lines at her painted lips. What the hell could she have smiled about after what she did to him?

She's still pretty though. He hates that he still thinks she's pretty.

Alexa’s eyes roam over him, and his skin crawls. "Wow, it’s been so long. You’ve grown.“

“Thanks, it’s the trauma. You know, from working for the FBI, among other things,” He spits out the last part. He feels you press against his side, a warning. He doesn’t care. 

If his biting tone affects Alexa, she doesn’t show it. “Right, right. You’re in the FBI now. That’s amazing,” She trails off, rolling her lips anxiously and clearing her throat. “Hey… can we talk in private?” 

Memories flash like snapshots. 

The grass field. The sports shed. A blank-faced audience.

Spencer bristles, “Whatever you have to say, you can say it in front of (Your Name). Why? You want to laugh at me? Criticize me? Stri-” You adjust your hand in his, reminding him he’s not alone. He grits his teeth. 

He almost feels guilty when Alexa flinches. Almost.

“Okay,” Her tone is soothing, careful like she’s addressing a cornered animal. Her gaze flicks between you two, hesitating. “If it makes you feel better, you can bring (Your Name), but we really need to speak with you.”

Spencer’s brow furrows. “We?”

Alexa steps aside, nodding past the crowd of drunken dancing, waiting for him to decide.

“It’ll be okay,” You watch him from the corner of your eye. It’s strange; you’ve witnessed Spencer snap a few times, usually to unsubs, people who deserved sharp tongues and razored vocabulary. There were rare occasions when the two of you had your spats, but he never lashed out at you. Not like this.

You wonder what Alexa Lisbon did to warrant such hostility. 

“She’s not an unsub, Reid,” He shivers, your whisper brushing against his ear. He clenches his jaw as he stares down Alexa, but he leans into you, listening. “You’re going to be fine. I’ll be right behind you the whole time.”

And you swear if something happens to Spencer, you’ll kill everyone in the room and then yourself.

Apparently, that’s enough for him as he steps after Alexa, weaving through the mass of bodies. His grip tightens around your hand. Eventually, Alexa stops and you find yourselves at the farthest corner of the gym, by the dining tables.

Suddenly, Spencer wants to run. To throw up. 

Like Alexa their faces have aged, matured as he expected. Some have gained and lost weight, dressed completely different than back in the day, while others look like the world treated them so, so kindly. It makes him grimace. 

Of course the universe decided his tormentors didn’t need to suffer after what they did. He’d expect nothing else. Karma is nothing if not a bitch.

Maybe he can projectile vomit onto them.

Wait, he doesn’t have the abdominal strength to do that. Damn it.

“Spencer Reid,” Harper Hillman breathes, as if she’s testing the way it rolls off of her tongue. Like his name is new to her. Makes sense, considering all they’ve ever called him was anything but his name. She stands from her chair, smile tight-lipped like Alexa’s. “I didn’t think you’d make it.”

Spencer gestures lamely. “Well, here I am.”

“Yeah, um, would you like to sit? We saved you a seat,” Harper’s gaze switches between Spencer and the table. 

They saved him a seat? They saved him a seat? 

Who are these people? 

Spencer shifts his stance, eyes flitting over each face but never lingering, unable to look them in the eye for long. “I’d rather stand, thanks.“

“Oh, no problem. You remember everyone, right?” Harper glances at Alexa, the few members of the football team that showed up, gesturing to them. 

“I have an eidetic memory and an IQ of 187,” Spencer’s face hardens. “What do you think?”

To his delight and astonishment, Harper has the sense to look flustered. “Right, almost forgot about that.”

Spencer nods, toeing the hardwood with his converses. The atmosphere is so thick. Seconds go by.

Alexa clears her throat, “Well-uh⎼”

“What do you want?” Spencer grinds out, one hand fisted in his pocket while the other grips yours tighter. He hasn't even been there for an hour, and already he’s tired and afraid. Whatever they had to say, he wants to get it over with.

Mouths open and close as they try to come up with an answer. Harper, Alexa, the entire group trade hesitant looks, like they had a plan and it wasn’t going accordingly. Like they’re not sure how to proceed. Or who should lead the assault.

Then a nod from Alexa and they stand almost in unison. Spencer’s eyes narrow when Harper smoothes down her dress and tugs at her collar, while Alexa wrings her hands together and bites the inside of her cheek. They all exchange looks between each other and the football team, even they look apprehensive, shoulders tense. Readied.

Oh my god they’re going to jump him. Pin him down and strip him naked again. 

“Reid,” Alexa starts, the group stepping forward as if backing her up. 

Waiting, probably for a signal, Spencer realizes. His stomach turns to lead.

“We want to say…”

Well, good fucking luck. The gym is packed with witnesses, and he’s 90% sure you’d risk your job, bust their kneecaps before you’d let them touch him.

It’s a bold but foolish move, really⎼

“We’re sorry.”

He braces himself.

…Wait. ‘Sorry’?

All his brain function stutters to a halt.

AN: 3/4?? 

guess who wrote 4k just to set up a song-fic?? *raises hand* 

yes this entire fic was inspired by I Don’t Care by Ed Sheeran and Justin Bieber okay dont come for me

we all need an emotional-support reader in our lives

also my first reid angst i hope i set the tone and pacing right, wrote it a lot differently :| 

If y'all notice the reference to starstruck by @spacedikut?? Just a small dedication/tribute thingy to them bc I love and appreciate their everything 😚💛

[kitkat1003]

Who Are You Really?

Chapter 3: To Mold; To Raise One

Summary: 

They should know, he thinks, that things like them aren’t picked. The warrior was forgotten by the hero. By everyone. And Macaque? He is going to make them into a tool for a warrior, a warrior themself even, whether they like it or not.

Spirit Masterpost

If he had to say anything on the matter, he would have said they’re useful.

It hadn’t taken much, not really.  He finds them in the woods, alone with nothing to their name but whispers of favors to powerful people and three eyes that stare through you.  He finds them, appraises them, and despite the way their tail curls around their leg and despite the way they hunch down on themself, something is there.  A little broken, but there.

Like a memory of a debt owed, Macaque knows he can fix them and is willing to try.

Convincing them isn’t difficult.  They perk up at the word favor, ears pressed up against the sides of their head and their eyes wide and earnest.  Desperate for a use, excited to have purpose—he dangles it in front of them and pulls them in.

There were more than a few roadblocks.

There is the anxiety, of course.  Kid barely can stand the sight of their own shadow, much less the ones he can summon at the drop of a hat.  He gets them used to the clones soon enough.  Exposure works wonders, and if they don’t like it at first?  Tough.  The clones are a part of him, he says  It wasn’t as if he could just get rid of them because they don’t like them.

A well placed guilt trip, and Kid stumbles over themselves to fix their error.  Good.

They’re soft.  Gentle.  Caring for all the other living creatures almost to the point of those being above their own needs and wants.  Careful of pretty flowers they don’t want to step on, kind to the trees and grass as much as one can be.

Wide eyed, but not doe eyed.  Their eyes are something, though.

It’s interesting to watch the large pupil move, the smaller two following.  They bounce around like ping pong balls, always taking in every detail.  When they wink, they either close the large one, or the two smaller ones.  Sometimes, when they’re trying to focus on something, they’ll close one of the smaller eyes.

“My vision’s a little lopsided,” they admit, when he questions.  “It, uh, can make things blurry.”

Not doe eyed, he knows, when he looks at them.  The furtive way they glance around.  They look at dead animals far too long to be normal.  Stare wistfully out at human settlements.  And when they’re not looking at anything, their eyes look...tired.  Empty.

Haunted, even.

Guess they call themselves Spirit for a reason.

It takes a while to teach them to stop caring about the petals you ruin in your walk, to crush bugs underfoot without thought.  It would go faster if he taught them the hard way, with broken bones and bloodied fists, but breaking more than they already are serves no purpose.  Beyond it all, Macaque wants a tool to use, and a tool shattered beyond repair isn’t useful.  So he has to be patient about it.

Of course, his patience runs out sometimes, but they never complain.  Maybe he gets used to yelling.  It shuts them up real quick, so it works.

Training them is another matter.  As much as he wants to beat all of the lessons he’d learned into them, he has to be patient.  A warrior isn’t made on the first day, there’s a process.  And they’re flighty, too.  One wrong move and they might run away.  Sure, he knew they’d come back, like a dog on a leash whenever the word favor was involved, but waiting would add more time to the process.

So he takes things slow.  Somehow.

They have stamina.  Running and jumping through forests day by day leaves them lithe and lean when it comes to muscles.  They tower over him even when they bend over; they are always bent over.  He forces them to stand up straight, just to get a measure of their height, and they loom like a tree in the forests surrounding them.

A good foundation, but their stance is so easily toppable that he barely has to push them and they stumble back, falling to the ground.

So he starts there.

“You need to be unmovable,” he says, using a stick found in the woods to prod at their limbs until they’re in the right position.  “Rooted to the ground.”

“Like a flower?” they reply, turning their head around to look at him.

He smacks them on the side of the head with the stick for that.

“Like a tree,” he corrects.  “Do you have any idea how easy it is to pick a flower?”

He hears them mutter about how they think it wouldn’t be too bad to be picked, but they correct their stance and go silent before he can bark at them to be quiet.

They should know, he thinks, that things like them aren’t picked.

The warrior was forgotten by the hero.

By everyone.

And Macaque?

He is going to make them into a tool for a warrior, a warrior themself even, whether they like it or not.

Once their stance is steady, he teaches them self defense.  How to punch without breaking your fingers.  How to kick without losing your balance.  How to dodge, duck, strike.

Kid takes to it like a duck to water, with a few hiccups.  The largest of which is a lack of want to land a hit.

Oh, they’re plenty strong.  They can lift up half a tree’s worth of firewood with a bit of strain.  They could likely kick harder than they punch, with how much they run, but to get them to do either is an uphill battle.

“C’mon kid, hit me,” he says, gesturing to his chest.

They pale, shoulders hunched, fingers rubbing against each other awkwardly as they keep them from becoming a fist.

“But-why?  I don’t want to, uh, hurt you.” They frown at the thought.

Macaque laughs.

“You can’t hurt me, trust me.  I’ve been hit by bigger and stronger people than you, kid,” he gives them a half grin and snorts at the thought of them being able to hit that hard.

“I don’t…” They draw circles in the dirt with their toe, glancing between him and their feet.  “I don’t like hurting people.”

He sighs, long suffering.  “You have someone you want to protect?” he asks.

They blink a few times.  He watches their pupils dilate, shifting as they think.  They don’t have the best poker face, but when they want to hide something, their face becomes carefully blank, a slate wiped clean.

It’s kind of creepy, in a way.

“Not anymore,” they finally mutter, forlorn.  Ears downturned.

There’s something deeper there, but Macaque doesn’t have time to hear their life’s story.  Especially when they’re training.  

“Yeah, you do have someone.” He walks over and sticks his finger into their chest, poking them hard enough that they wince.  “You.  You want to stay alive?  You fight.”

They stare at him, hard, and he raises a brow.

“Look,” he says.  “You hate anyone?”

Kid glances down at him—he hates that they’re taller than him, even when they’re hunched down—and their gaze flashes to something dark.

He stares back.

“Yes,” they whisper.  “Some.  One.”

Macaque does not stiffen.  There’s nothing haunting about how quietly, how gently, how angrily Kid says that.

“Alright then,” he takes a step back, arms splayed out to make himself a target.  “Hit me like I’m that person.”

He watches them stare at him.  They tilt their head to the side.  Their pupils shift.

A minute passes, and Macaque is about to say something else, when they blink once, and then strike.

His clothes are ripped, a slash across his chest.  Kid holds their hand out like it’s a weapon, claws bared.  They took off some fur, too, but they didn’t go deep enough to break skin, though Macaque thinks it’s not for lack of trying.

Another blink, and they come to, yanking their hand back and cradling it against their chest.

“Oh-sorry-I-I was just doing what you told me, and, uh, I didn’t,” they mutter out more apologies, looking away.

Macaque laughs.

“No, no, that was great!  We’ll have to get you used to punching and kicking, but using claws ain’t half bad.” He looks them up and down, seeing them in a new light.  “If you like something sharp, then, well, we might as well get you a weapon, right?”

“A...weapon?” They look surprised that he’s not upset.  

Macaque only yells when they make a mistake, though.  And when they’re being annoying, but regardless.  Why punish them for a job well done?  He told them to hit him, and they did.  Not exactly how he wanted, but as long as they’re more willing to fight, he wants to encourage the behavior.  An inch of negativity towards them and they’ll jump a mile back from where he wants them to be.

“Something sharp,” he repeats.  “Claws will only get you so far.”

He pulls out his staff, twirling it around a few times before holding it out, sideways, for the kid to look at.  They peer down at it, tilting their head to the side.  They close one of their eyes, to focus.  Their eyes trace the spikes on the ends of the staff.  They swallow, fidgeting, as their gaze ends at the sharp points.

“It’s...nice,” they say, a little nervous.

“We should go to a market.  I’ve got a bunch of weapons we can test out, but your weapon has to be for you.” He pats the kid on the back, smiling.

“Shopping?” 

He watches them perk up, eyes wide, a smile on their lips.  There’s a certain charm to it.  As tall as they are, they have quite the young face.

“Yup,” he says.  “But first, I’m teaching you how to sew.  If you’re going to tear my clothes, you’re going to know how to fix it.”

They duck their head sheepishly, embarrassed, guilty, but happy that he’s going to teach them something new.

Hook, line, sinker.

He takes them, first, to one of his caves, his hideouts.  He has his stash of weapons there, so they can start training with them to get the kid used to weaponry before he buys them anything.

The trip takes a week, and during it he has to stop himself from strangling the kid every evening.  They light up every two seconds, prattling on about every little thing they spot, skipping along with both their pack of things and his own.  He thought making them carry his things as well as their own would get them tired enough that he wouldn’t have to listen to them chatter well into the night, but they manage to ask so many questions it makes his head spin.

“Do you think that anyone is going to like you if you never shut up?” he growls out, one night.  “I can barely hear my own thoughts, you keep spouting out all of yours.”

They blink.  Hunch their shoulders.  Shift their gaze off to the side.

“I don’t know a lot,” they mutter.  “I thought asking questions was how, uh, I learn?  My mom always had me tell her what was on my mind, so she could let me know if I was thinking of something wrong.”

They shrug their shoulders, gaze off somewhere, or sometime else.

“Well I’m not your mom,” he snaps.  “And neither is anyone else.  Trust me, no one wants to hear your thoughts.”

The kid looks up at him, hunched over and sitting down.  Their pupils shift, again.  Their expression goes carefully blank.

“Oh,” tThey reply.  “Sorry.”

Macaque lets out a huff.  He doesn’t want to be the bad guy here.  Not only is it a bad look, it also makes the kid less likely to trust him.  It’s a balancing act, where he toes the line.  Sure, the kid can take a bit more attitude than most, but you kick a dog enough and it bites back.

If you kick a dog, and then feed it nice food for a month before kicking it again, well...it takes it a lot longer to think of biting.

“Look,” he sighs.  “I’m saying this for your sake, kid.  I’m patient, but most people aren’t.  You think a regular demon will just tell you to shut up?”

He pauses, levies them an incredulous look.  “You’d lose a tooth or something, or an eye.”

They flinch, when he says eye.  He files that away for later.

“How about this,” He continues.  “You get 3 random questions per day while we walk, and 2 random comments.  Sound fair?”

Kid looks up at him, a little less despondent, and then they smile.

“Okay.” They turn to the fire, grabbing a piece of firewood from the pile and adding it to the fire.  

They glance up at Macaque, after a bit.  “Thanks.”

Macaque reaches over and ruffles their hair, and it doesn’t feel like there’s a fake smile on his face when Kid giggles and leans into the touch.

When it comes to weapons, the kid is clumsy.

Most long weapons are surprisingly difficult for them to wield.  Their height should be an advantage in that regard, giving them more of a reach, but instead all their long limbs are good for are getting hit whenever they slip with a staff or spear in hand.  They nick themselves a few times, and Macaque thinks he’s going to have to make a fuss with cleaning them up, but every time they get cut they pull out well worn gauze and some mixture, and carefully clean and wrap the wound themselves.

“My mom taught me,” they explain when he stares for too long.

Anything long is difficult for them to handle, so he throws those out the window.  Now, short blades they do well with, but they don’t like to stab.

“Curved blades,” he suggests, handing them a pair.  “They’re more for slashing.  Like a couple of extra claws, but longer.”

They hold them awkwardly, but with some careful correction they do a few practice swings, glancing over at Macaque for approval.

“Looks good,” he says, because they seem most steady with the twin blades, and that’s something to hone in on.

The kid beams.  Macaque finds himself smiling back.

They train for a couple months, not just with the curved blades.  A jack of all trades is far more useful than a master of one, after all, and letting them have at least a rudimentary understanding of how to use most weapons will make it so even if they’re without their typical arsenal, they’ll be able to make do.

That, and between the hand to hand combat lessons, will make them a force to be reckoned with, though they still refuse to strike with a killer’s intent.

All in due time, though.  Macaque would hate to waste all this effort to create something of use by scaring them off with his impatience.

They know of the Monkey King.

“I hear about him all the time,” they say, over dinner.  “He’s a very famous monkey!”

“Sure,” Macaque grumbles, ignoring the urge to punch their teeth in.

It’s not their fault, he knows.  Anyone who knows anyone would know of the Great Sun Wukong enough to—

“Have you met him?”

Now, there’s a question.  Something dark and pleased rises up when he hears it, because he can’t ruin the reputation of Sun Wukong to the world, but starting small never hurts, and why not score some trust with Kid along the way?

“We were actually pretty close,” he explains.

The look on their face when he shows them his scar and tells them how he got it is just priceless.

Shopping with them is...something else.  

He takes them to the market closeby, a few miles out from where they met in the woods.  They’re like a kid in a candy store, bouncing between market fronts and looking over every random object with interest.

“Some of the people here owe me favors,” they whisper conspiratorially to him, waving at a few of the shop owners.  “I helped them out!  It was nice.”

“Mhmm,” he nods along.

Kid is very, very insistent on favors.  The wording is important, and Macaque pockets it, pulling out the phrase whenever Kid starts to get too hesitant about doing what Macaque needs them to.

“What’s the whole favor business for, anyway?” he asks, because he genuinely is curious. 

As much as Kid’s ramblings can get annoying, they do provide insight.  Information on insecurities makes for a fun leverage.

“They owe me,” Kid replies.  “I do what they want, and then they can’t hurt me.”

Short, simple, to the point.  But oh so interesting, an insight Macaque files away.  He can’t go around hurting Kid after the favor is done, then.  That’s fine.  He has plenty of time to get them to heel without yanking on the leash.

A few tugs will do well enough, anyway.

They reach the weapon shop, and Kid is enamored with a purple pair of their preferred weapon, fluttering over to them and tracing the shapes with their fingers.  They’re practically bouncing on their feet, grabbing fistfuls of their pant legs to stop themself from snatching up their prize immediately.

They glance back to Macaque for approval.

“Not a bad color.” Macaque has always liked purple.  Maybe that’s why Kid doesn’t annoy him as much as most people.  They’re bright in personality, but wear the colors of shadows, and hide in the shade rather than stand out in the spotlight.

Kid preens at the compliment.

“Can-uh-is this what-can I have them?  Please?” They’re vibrating with excitement, eyes wide and earnest as they hope for a yes.

“Maybe,” Macaque replies, smooth as silk.  “It all depends on if you’re going to use them properly.”

That gives them pause.  Their excitement diminishes into confusion as they try and parse out just what Macaque means, ears twitching.

It is almost charming in a way, how they always seem to be moving a little bit.  Whether their tail is swaying back and forth, or they’re curling and uncurling their toes, or fluttering their fingers at their sides, they move.

“I...know how to use them,” they finally say.  “You taught me.”

“Practically,” Macaque replies.  “But you still won’t fight with them.”

Kid blinks again, tilting their head to the side.  Genuinely confused, befuddled, uncertain of his words.  He watches their eyes slide to the side, glancing around and trying to figure out what exactly he means.

“I…,” they start, haltingly.  “I thought I was?”

Macaque sighs, more out of exhaustion than annoyance, but they take it as such, ears drooping low.  Their tail brushes the floor.

“Intent, kid,” he says.  “You can use the weapons, but you don’t fight with them.  Not with intent.”

“Intent to what?” Kid asks, hesitant but insistent.

“Kill,” Macaque says, simply.  “These weapons are for killing.  If you aren’t going to use them like that, there’s no point in you getting them.  No point in continuing the favor.”

He can tell the second part hits them hard.  They stiffen, hands clasping in front of their stomach, tight.  Their feet overlap each other, toes curled, shoulders hunched, tail coiled around their leg.

Fidgeting, tense like a coiled spring, Macaque waits, because he’s seen this before.  Every time he pushes, they duck their head in quiet defiance for only a moment, before

They buckle, going limp.

“No,” they mutter.  “You’re right.  I’ll get intent, sir.”

Sir is new.

Macaque likes it. 

“Good.  Then they’re yours—” He gestures to the twin blades, with purple glossy handles and white grips.  “Take them.”

Their smile is smaller than it was before, when they pull the pair from the rack.  Their hands tremble when they hold them; they grip the blades tight to keep them steady.

Macaque pays for the blades, and ignores how still they’ve become.

With Kid’s preferred blades acquired, Macaque ramps up training.  He pushes them farther, because he’s laid the groundwork, and now the only way to get them to bend is to force them into the position.

Starting small is important.  Kid is still fit to scatter if he scares them.  It’s like placing a frog in a pot of boiling water.  It doesn’t work.  You set them in the room temperature water first, and then turn up the heat.  Slowly, still.  If he cranked it up now, well, they’d still jump out.

So, they start with a shadow clone.  Looks like a real person, but is detached enough from it that Kid won’t get too freaked when they attack it.  No blood, no screams, just smoke and mirrors to get them in action.

Maybe he should be concerned that he’s teaching them to fight a visage of him, but Macaque knows Kid isn’t stupid enough to think they can beat him.

That would be ridiculous.

He guides them through the motions, hands on their wrists as he tugs their arms into the correct positions, jerking their hand forward in a slashing motion and letting go just as they make contact with the clone, dissipating it with a single strike.

Typically his clones are more powerful, but an easy win to start will embolden them to strike harder next time.

“Nice job!” he pats them on the back, hard enough that they stumble a little from the force of it.

They’re smiling though, small and secretly pleased.  They love praise, he finds, desperate for approval.  A few kind words can feed them for a week, if he plans it out right.  Not that he’s always planning.  Some do just...slip out.

“Now,” he summons another clone, placing it a few feet away.  “Try this one on your own.”

Kid nods, turns, and settles into a stance.  They charge forward and strike.

Macaque smiles.

From clones, comes animals.

After all, he explains, they have to eat.  Sure, a true warrior eats less than most, but they still need to have food.  Starving themselves when they’re in the middle of training, in the middle of gaining muscle and strength, is stupid.  They need to bulk up.

“I don’t, um, usually eat much,” Kid says.

Macaque scoffs.

“That’s why you’re a stick.” He gestures to their general size, how their clothes hang off of them.

They fidget, shrugging a little.

“I guess,” they reply, which is their typical response when they don’t exactly agree but don’t have the courage to actually disagree.

“Well, I know,” he bites back, finding some sort of pleasure in how they shrink away from him.  “We need to make sure you know how to make food anyway.  You’re no use to me half-starved.”

He drums up options, glancing off into the forest they’re surrounded by.

“There’s plenty of food out here,” he says.  “We can fish in streams, shoot for birds, and there’s a human settlement just out west a couple miles, so—”

“We are not,” Kid interrupts, interrupts, voice harder than he’s ever heard, “Eating humans.”

Their eyes are sharp.  Angry, even.  So rarely does he find anger in them, find fire where there is cool terror and anxiety.  This is something noticeable.  Kid likes humans, enough to fight for them.

They’re trembling, waiting for his reaction.  Clearly, they’re terrified that he’ll snap at them, that he’ll shut them down.  But they don’t apologize.

Interesting.  How rare is it that Macaque sees them be brave?

“Fine,” he shrugs.  “They scream too much to be worth it, anyway.”

That much is true.  While he might not be showing off the six ears that beget his title, they’re still there, and shouting is nothing that he wants to deal with.

Kid relaxes, relief evident on their face that he’s not yelling at them.  It’s good that they’re smart enough to fear his reproach.

“But, that means you’re gonna have to learn to gut fish,” he jerks a thumb towards the stream behind them.  

Kid smiles, with all their sharp teeth on display.

“Sir yes sir!” They salute.

Macaque has to wonder who taught them such a motion as they jump up and rush to the water.

He stands and prepares the next lesson.

In the weeks following, they learn to fish with both a line and with their hands.  He teaches them to use a bow for the birds, as well as the bears.  They only kill one bear, because the amount of meat will last them ages and it’s foolish to waste such meat.

They trade some of it for spices in the human markets, once Macaque makes sure they know how to look human.  Apparently, it’s the only form they can shift into.  Not surprising, but disappointing nonetheless.

Kid takes to cooking with a gusto he doesn’t expect.

“I would help my mom with dinner,” they explain, setting up the fire one night.  “I didn’t know how she was making what she was, but I loved all of it.  I—”

They cut themself off, suddenly shy.

Macaque doesn’t pry.  Half because he doesn’t care, and half because he knows it’s a fruitless endeavor.  For most things, Kid can be cajoled into explanation, but if they truly don’t want to say anything, he’ll get nothing.  Which, considering his secrets, is fair enough.

“I...like that I can make something nice,” Kid finally admits, turning away from him to grab some spices.  “For you.”

Oh.

Somewhere along the line, Macaque stops finding them as annoying as they should be.

They smile at him like he’s a star, the sun, and years of being a moon, of being second best, makes that look something to covet.  If that means he lets them drag him into the forest to look at some rare plants, if that means listening to them ramble about the medicinal properties of said plants, well.

It’s only because it ingratiates them to him.  That’s it.

Physical affection, too, is something they desire.  It’s a reward.  That is it.  A reward for a job well done, a pick-me-up when they’re too morose to be useful, a new tool in his set to fix them into something worthwhile.

Say nothing to the times they shivered in the cold, slowly shifting towards him, pressed against his back to conserve warmth.  Macaque didn’t push them off because he was asleep.  Say nothing to the days they would shiver in the day, lack of proper fur like he had to keep them warm, and he’d lend them his scarf.  He didn’t need it anyway.  He’s stronger than they are, he can deal with the cold.  He’s setting an example.

He refuses to groom them.  Grooming is something private, something reserved for people who are no longer around, who left, who left and took the whole of him with them.  And Kid is not that someone.

Sometimes, though, he wonders.

Bright, like a star, they can shine in the darkest corners.  Hands bloodied from a carcass, they’re always gentle with the animals they kill.  Always certain to make the cuts clean and precise, so the animal dies quickly.

It’s a small mercy, but to choose to find that mercy and lean into it…

They’re not naive.  Neither was he.  Enough knowledge of a cruel world to understand hate, but enough kindness in a soul to push back against it.  But that type of soul is flighty, off to the next weeping child to console, the next problem to solve, the next world to save.

That type of soul leaves, and doesn't come back.

Better to crush that type of soul, then.

“Mac!” Kid calls, holding a full net.  “Look at how much fish I caught!”

Macaque fights a smile.

“Don’t call me that,” he barks out and wishes it hurt less when he sees them flinch.

“Sorry, sir,” they reply.  “I got excited.  We’ll have food for weeks!  I’ll dry some of the fish out for snacks, and I have some spices that would go really well with—”

They pause, flushing, ears pointed up and pink with embarrassment.  They bite their lip.

“Sorry,” They say, again.  “I know you don’t like me rambling…,”

Not typically, no.

But now…

“Well, if it’s about our food stores, it’s important,” he says, a justification that rings hollow.  “So go on, kid.”

They brighten, eyes wide and happy as Macaque becomes their sun, again.

Macaque basks in it, just a little, and thinks he can wait a little longer.

They get very good at using the blades.  Between traveling, getting food, making food, and training, they can hold their own pretty well.

Of course, they only really fight animals and clones.  Whenever Macaque suggests they spar with him, they lock up, terrified by the idea.  That’s fine, though, because Macaque wants them to be in top shape when they actually fight him, anyway.

They can manage against eight clones at once, dodging punches and slashing through them.  Of course, the clones aren’t at their top durability or strength, because Kid isn’t Monkey King levels of powerful like he is.

But, they seem to be doing fine, so he raises the intensity level a little bit.  Has a couple of the clones level up, so to speak, to keep Kid on their toes.  They can’t expect every enemy to be the same skill level every time.  They have to be used to surprises.

Maybe he does it too quickly, because Kid ducks, slashes, and is unable to dodge the kick to their side that sends them flying.

Their head cracks against a tree trunk just outside the clearing.

When they drop, they don’t move.

Macaque is up on his feet in an instant.  The clones vanish as he sprints across the clearing, at Kid’s side so fast his vision blurs with the motion.

“Shit,” he breathes.

Macaque lifts Kid up in his arms.  They’re limp in his grasp, eyes closed, and they look dead but he knows they’re not, he checks their pulse and they’re fine, it’s fine.  He wouldn’t kill them.  Not like this.  

He feels where their head hit the tree, and his hand comes back wet.  

“Shit, shit, shit.”

He reaches into Kid’s pockets, and finds that roll of gauze they always have on them.  They buy a new roll every time they go to the market, just in case.

He hasn’t needed to wrap wounds in a while, considering his healing...style, but he remembers how it goes.

Blood drips onto the ground, even as he wraps the wound as best and as tight as he can.  He folds Kid’s gangly long limbs so he can lift them up, and their forehead rests in the crook of his neck.  He can feel their breath on his fur.

Good.  They’re still breathing.

He squats down and presses hard against the dirt, lifting off the ground and speeding through the forest.  There’s a demon market a few miles out, there’s got to be a healer there, they can fix this.  They will, whether they like to or not.  No one says no to the Six-Eared Macaque, regardless of circumstance.

He hears a shuddering whine crawl out of Kid’s mouth.  A hand grasps at his shirt, as pained gasps reach his ears.

He can hear them so clearly.  Curse of six ears.  But, he can still hear their heartbeat, and even the gasps are a good sign.  They can still breathe.  It’s fine.

“Give me a minute, kid.” He whispers, forgiving the hand because they’re injured, that’s the only reason.  “We’ll get you fixed up, just sit tight.”

They whimper and curl up tighter, as their wrappings on their head stain quick.

It takes Macaque twenty minutes to get to the market.  Twenty minutes for eleven miles, as he rushed between trees, over boulders and hills, through towns.  It would have been quicker, but whenever he picked up too much speed, Kid would whimper as the wind whipped at their face and head wrappings.  So Macaque took it a touch slower, if only to keep him from hearing that noise.

They’d passed out a few minutes before he’d arrived at the market, though, so he’d managed to speed things up a little.

He slips between the shadows of market stalls, eyes searching for a healer.  They’re typically at one end of the market or the other, to keep the stench of blood and pus and rot from infected wounds away from the rest of the market.

He finds the tent and dashes inside.

The healer is some sort of fox demon, tail twitching as Macaque enters.  Sharp eyes fall on him and then Kid in his arms, and when Macaque speaks up his tone leaves little room for argument or reproach.

“They hit their head.” He doesn’t explain how.  It’s none of their business what he does with his tools.  “Fix it.”

The healer raises a brow, glancing at the two monkeys, one with sharp eyes and the other curled and trembling in the other’s arms.

“There is a fee,” comes a silk voice, near a hiss.  They point to their price.

Macaque summons a clone and sets Kid in its arms, growling under his breath.  He digs into his pocket and pulls out his coin pouch, digging into it and grabbing out the correct amount.  He slams it onto the counter with a force that would have caused the coins to scatter all over the room if not for how tightly he grips them in his fist.

They trickle down onto the desk with a clatter.  Macaque places his trembling fists at his sides, enraged enough that his eyes glow.  If not for the fact that this healer is needed, their blood would paint the tent and everything inside of it.

The wary look the healer sends him is proof that they understand that.

“Fix,” he growls.  “It.”

The healer gestures to the table off to the side, and Macaque has his clone set Kid down before dispelling it.

The healer moves Kid onto their side, lifting their head and glancing at the covered wound.  With a careful claw, they cut away the bandage, a swirl of magic creating a small bubble over the wound, keeping the blood from spilling.

The lack of pressure, the new sensation of magic, gets Kid to stir.

They twitch, fingers and toes curling as their eyes blink open.  Confusion paints their posture and expression, and they take in a hitching breath, ears swiveling to try and figure what is happening.

“M-Mo-Mac-h-hhhhhh,” they gasp out, trying to move.

The healer presses them gently back down onto the table, placing a careful finger to their forehead.

“Shhhh,” they whisper.  “Rest, child.”

Kid’s eyes slide shut.  They relax.

The healer first gets a rag and some water, carefully dabbing at the wound, cleaning away any dirt that may have gotten into the crack.  They use their claws to align the tiny pieces of the skull that have dislodged both from the wound and from the journey.  Then, they grab a jar off of the shelf, pulling off the lid and dipping their fingers in to scoop out an orange-yellow cream substance.  Gently, they rub it across the wound, and then wrap it again.

They use a spoon to put more of that cream into a smaller jar, and hand it to Macaque, along with a roll of gauze.

“The wound will heal in a few days.  Change the bandages twice a day and reapply the cream.  It speeds up the process and prevents infection,” the healer explains.  “The child may have a foggy memory of the incident, and may hallucinate.  Be aware.”

Macaque sticks the jar and gauze in his pocket and nods, picking Kid up.  He’s gentle about it, supporting their head on his shoulder.  They shift a little in their sleep, pressing their forehead against his neck.  Their fur brushes against his chin.

Their tail curls around his arm, a comforting squeeze.  The end wisps against his palm.

Macaque pointedly ignores how any of this makes him feel and heads off.

Back at camp, he sets Kid up with blankets and enough soft material for a pillow, making sure their head is elevated and kept away from the hard ground.  He sends a few clones out to grab firewood, setting up a flame and throwing some stuff together for a soup.

Macaque, on a whole, doesn’t cook much.  He’s content to chomp on apples and whatever fruits he finds.  Occasionally, he’ll cook some meat.  Otherwise, he just won’t eat often.  Kid’s the one who makes all the different concoctions.

He hopes the mix of spices is good here.

Kid wakes up a few hours later, when stars dot the sky and Macaque shivers a little at the night chill.  Bleary eyes stare up at the sky, pupils shifting to try and focus, though Macaque doesn’t see them settle.

He scoops a bowl of soup, still warm though the fire has died down, and shuffles to Kid’s side.

“Hey, kid,” he whispers.  

Macaque is not a delicate man.  But no one is here to see, no one who could matter, so he hooks an arm beneath Kid’s shoulders and lifts them up so they’re sitting up against his chest, though not fully considering the height difference.  God knows they won’t be able to sit up on their own, and he refuses to waste good soup.

Bleary eyes blink, staring up at him.  Recognition flickers in their gaze.

“Mom?” they croak.

Macaque.  Freezes.

He carefully lifts the bowl of soup to Kid’s mouth.

“Drink,” he says, pointedly ignoring their comment.

Hallucinations, the healer told him.  That’s all this is.  Kid isn’t seeing him, after all.

Kid takes a few steady gulps of the soup, turning away to breathe.  Macaque exercises patients by glancing up at the sky and ignoring how idiotic this is.  He’s not a babysitter.  He doesn’t do this.  He isn’t their parent.  He isn’t...

“Did Dad hurt you?” Kid turns back, looking up with eyes that stare through him rather than at him.  “Your eye…”

They reach up, fingers close enough to brush the line where his scar is, hidden beneath glamour.  Macaque pulls away, lifting the bowl up to Kid’s lips again in lieu of responding to that.

“Drink,” he snarls.

They flinch, nodding and getting the rest of the soup down.  He helps them back to their bed, and their eyes stare back up at the sky with that same faraway look.

“I’ll be better next time,” they whisper, quiet but strong.  “So you won’t get hurt.”

Macaque turns away, and doesn’t look back until he knows they’re asleep.  Hallucinations, he knows.  Hallucinations.  That’s the only reason they’re saying anything like that at all.  They don’t know him, he’s kept his heart under his cloak, never on his sleeve.  That's why he’s their teacher, so they will learn to do the same.

He watches the fire sway in the night, until he can find it in himself to sleep.

The next day goes mostly smoothly, with incoherent ramblings occasionally from Kid that Macaque tunes out.  He changes their bandages in the morning and then goes out, leaving a shadow clone to watch the camp while collecting food and other supplies.

They sleep through most of the day, but at night when he goes to change their bandages again, they start to squirm.

“Kid,” he starts, trying to hold them steady.  The wrappings are already off, and he’s trying to keep dirt from getting in.  

They kick and writhe, whispering and growling and making an assortment of whimpering noises he can’t make heads nor tails of.  He grips them tight enough to bruise, to keep them steady.

“Kid, I’m not going to hurt you!” he shouts.

“YOU HURT ME!” they scream, and it sounds so much as if the words had been torn from their throat that Macaque is surprised he doesn’t see blood splatter out of their mouth.  “YOU HURT ME!”

Their hand claws at his, and he drops them with a shout of pain as they tear off the skin of his knuckles.  They drop to the dirt with their own short cry of discomfort, curling in on themself as Macaque backs away.

“You—” They cough.  Their breaths are short and uneven.  “You-it-it’s like an earthquake,” their voice is quiet and strained and quick.  “Cracks beneath the surface.  Snow, melting from inside.  Inside out.  Cracking.  Melting.  I’m-I’m-I can’t see it.”

They gasp it out, trembling.

The water is boiling.  Why is Macaque the one burning?

They still. 

“You don’t look,” they finally say, a hoarse whisper.  “You don’t want to.  You don’t want to see.”

Macaque swallows.  Stares at the-the—

The child may have a foggy memory of the incident, and may hallucinate.

Child.

He shuffles forward, so, so gentle as he reaches toward them.  They don’t move when his hand brushes against their back.  They’re boneless when he pulls them toward him.  As if every last drop of them was poured into their words, they’re empty.

He patches their wound.  Sets them down.  They’re silent, asleep on the bed.

He sits, watches the blood from his knuckles drip to the ground.  It’ll heal on its own.  He can heal on his own.

He doesn’t sleep.

The next couple of days are easy.  Kid doesn’t say or do much, moving when prompted and sleeping when not.  Macaque ignores the buzz in the back of his head that feels like guilt.  He leaves Kid with a shadow clone and tears down a forest.  Anger is easy to deal with.  This is not.

A little under a week after the incident, Kid wakes up with a groan.

“Mac?” They rub at their eyes sitting up with a bit of effort.

Macaque fights the urge to tell them not to call him that.  He’ll save it for later.

“About time you woke up,” he says, with an easy grin on his face.

Kid blinks up at him, confused. 

“You hit your head,” he explains with a wave of his hand.  “One of my clones caught you off guard.  You were out for a few days.”

Kid blinks a few more times, tail and ears twitching.  They tilt their head to the side in thought.  They reach up and feel the back of their head, poking at the freshly healed wound.  They wince.

“Oh,” they say.  They smile up at him.  “Thank you for taking care of me.”

They stand up on shaky legs, shuffling a little before they steady.

“I’m gonna see about some food.  I’ll make you your favorite tonight!” They grin, all teeth, and vanish into the forest before Macaque can stop them.

He stares at their retreating form.  He sends a shadow clone to keep an eye on them, in case their wound acts up.

He sits and ponders their smile.

YOU HURT ME!

Thank you for taking care of me.

The strange thing is, he doesn’t think they were lying either time.

He eases them back into training, and they fall back into it with ease, the injury fading from view as their fur covers it up.  He’s still ever so careful the next couple of weeks.  The last thing he needs is for them to get hurt again.

They’re too much like him.  Too much like the sun, the hero, but the difference is that the hero could be like that because he was powerful.  The hero could strike down any foe, the hero had power.  It allowed him to be soft.

Kid does not have power.  They can get hurt.  They can die.

Their heart is on their sleeve.  They smile.  They curl up, sometimes, hiding their chest, but more often than not they’re splayed out, an open target.  Wide eyed, not completely naive, but just hopeful enough to get them killed.

And he...he doesn’t want them killed.

It’s sad, he thinks.  If they were stronger, maybe they could stay as they are.  But they aren’t, so he will rip their heart from their sleeve and teach them to keep it hidden.  

Whether they like it or not.

“You’re too...you. To be intimidating like I am,” he tells them, pacing.  “But there are different types of scary.  We’ll have to find the one that fits you.”

Kid is sitting on a rock, watching him pace.  Their eyes follow his movements like a pendulum, swinging back and forth.  They tap their palms on their knees, nodding along as they listen.

“Um, Mac?” They start.

He glares in their direction.  They shrink down, shoulders hunched.

“Sir,” they amend, quickly.  “Um, why do I have to be scary?”

It’s a valid question.  Annoying, but fair, and an explanation will get them to further listen.  Still, the fact that they don’t know, when they’re as old as they are (not that Macaque knows how old they are), is annoying.

“Because,” he stresses, rolling his eyes.  “When you intimidate, people won’t fight you.  Intimidation is making sure everyone in the room knows you’re the strongest one there.  Even if you’re not.”

And they won’t be, more often than not.  They’re crafty, and fast, but not strong.  In a standstill fight, they’ll lose a lot.  But that’s why the intimidation look has to be perfect.

“Oh,” they reply.  “Cool!”

“Of course it is,” he shoots back, puffing out his chest.  “Now, angry intimidation won’t work.  You don’t have a good angry face.”

“I don’t get angry often,” Kid shrugs.

“Exactly.  You don’t have it in you,” he rubs his chin in thought.  “We could go for the ‘danger behind a smile’ angle.”

He takes a few steps toward them.  With how they’re sitting, a rock as a prop up, he’s at eye level with them standing.

“We want a small smile, kid.” He reaches a hand towards their face, to help shape their grin.

They flinch back, and have their blades out in a flash.  Their eyes are wide, locked onto Macaque’s outstretched hand.

Macaque blinks, startled by their sharp shift in mood, and Kid comes back to themself, lowering their hunched shoulders.

“O-oh,” They breathe, letting their hands drop.  “Right.  Y-you’re right.  I think.”

They set the blades on the ground, shuffling their feet.

“...Alright,” Macaque continues.  He knows they were hit by a clone of his, and, well, the clones are made looking like him.  They might be more shaky than they say, over that.  He certainly has taught them to be quiet. “Now, you want the smile to be small.  Your eyes are wide, and your pupils are small.  You want to look like you’re a second from ripping their heart out and eating it in front of them.”

Kid makes a face.  “That’s gross,” they say.

“It’s an analogy,” Macaque groans, throwing his head back and slapping a hand over his eyes.  “Just do it.”

They try it, and Macaque has to give them a few pointers.  No, your smile is too wide.  Don’t fidget.  Keep your tail still.  Don’t look away.  Keep eye contact.

Finally, they have a good look.

“There,” he says, stepping back.  “That will make sure nobody messes with or hurts you, kid.”

Their expression drops away into something blank, and Macaque stills.  He wouldn’t tell them, but when their expression is empty it’s far scarier than their smile.  Better they not know that lest they use it to an excessive degree.

“Um,” they start, a little shy.  “But, you do this.  And you got hurt?”

Their eyes trace the scar hidden beneath glamour.  Macaque turns so that eye is out of view.

“It doesn’t always work,” he mutters, casting a glare in their direction.  “Because some people know that they’re stronger than anyone, so intimidation doesn’t work.”

“What do I do then?” they ask, with all the wide eyes of a student expecting their teacher to have the perfect answer.

“You claw at any part of them you can reach,” Macaque replies.  “And you run.”

He ramps up their training.  Any time they aren’t traveling is spent sparring, practicing, cooking, hunting, no free time.  No time to play or joke around.

They’re confused, at first, by the change of pace.  They try the same tricks, the same comments.  Macaque does not budge.

“Quit it.”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“Stop acting like a child.”

They quiet, eventually.  Learn to be smaller and less bright, keep their light within themself so it doesn’t attract too much attention.  They learn to keep their thoughts inside, following orders with a blank face and the occasional grin.

They still get overexcited, and sometimes Macaque bites his tongue.  If it’s just around him then it’s fine in small doses.

It’s not because he’s scared of their light going out.  It’s not because he likes it when they ramble and drag him along until they get him to grin.  It’s not.

He gets them a new outfit.  Their old one is worn, the fabric thin and worn and ripping.  They sew up the patches and clean it as best they can, but considering the age it’s soon to be a lost cause. 

They do love shopping, so he strings them along.

They sprint through different styles.  Everything is new and interesting to them, as if they spend time outside of the present and are then shocked by the new future.  He trails them along different stalls, pulls them away from items they shouldn’t touch, and critiques outfit after outfit.

They find the right one, though he’s quick to tell them how rare that is, so they don’t get a big head.  Besides, with how tall and gangly they are, finding something that fits them is pretty difficult.  It takes them two hours to find something right, two hours better spent training, moving around.

He goes up to pay for it while they spin around and jump excitedly in their new look, and his eyes widen at the price.

“Enchanted pockets,” the tailor explains.  “They hold up to a full pack’s worth of items without showing it.”

And, well, Macaque didn’t expect to spend this much.  He turns around, because they don’t need those pants, they can carry a pack just fine, and—

Kid sees him looking and waves, gesturing to their new outfit and striking a valiant pose.

Macaque sighs, softens, and pays.

They tell him the flaps on the side are just like his, something excited and happy in their tone, and he grins.  If they’re just like him, then they’ll be smart.  If they’re just like him, they won’t make silly mistakes like trusting people, like getting attached, like getting hurt.

The issue with that is when you stare at a person who is functionally a mirror, you start to see all your flaws.

His final challenge isn’t supposed to work.

Kid has barely been able to spar with him, when he gives them his challenge.  They spar and they don’t fight hard, and Macaque always wins.  

But then they say they have to go, and Macaque knows they’re not ready (secretly, they’ll never be ready because they’ll never be powerful enough, but if he keeps them within arms reach he can make sure they stay away from him) so he picks something he knows they can’t do.

Kill.

He expects them to get to where that demon is and balk.  He expects that they’ll try but their fears will halt them in their tracks, and they’ll come back with their tail tucked between their legs and apologies spilling from their lips.  He expects that he’ll smile, and say that they’ll just have to stay with him, then, now won’t they?  And then they will, and everything will be fine and good and right.

He doesn’t need or want anyone, but...he doesn’t mind if they’d stay.

He doesn’t know them.  He doesn’t know what they’ve lived through, what they’ve done before.  He doesn’t know how deep their ties to favors run.  He’s never asked, he doesn’t know.

Two days after he tells them to kill, they come back with a severed head.

They’re smiling, when they do.  Their tail curls around their leg and they’re trembling, but they’re smiling like they always do.  Macaque is supposed to be able to tell when someone is lying, and he’s supposed to know them and read them like an open book, but Kid smiles and it looks real.

They’re trembling.  He barely hears what they’re saying, over the sound of their thudding heartbeat.

The eyes on the head are sewn shut.  He asks, and they give him an excuse, and he doesn’t press because he never has.  He’s never cared enough to ask about their past, their feelings, never dug deep enough.  He thought they were surface-level, because they’re quiet, and they don’t talk about themself too much beyond comments about their mother.  He’s staring at a stranger he’s known for over half a year.

He’s not supposed to be caught off guard.  So self-assured, he plans his schemes with the knowledge that he understands all the moves the player will make.  Now he’s in the dark, lost with the simple sight in front of him.

Macaque doesn’t understand, but if Kid’s a stranger he’ll keep them as one.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out two gifts.  He’d gotten them months ago, finding a jeweler who could enchant the token, and a book binder at the market that could create a tome practically infinite in space but small enough to be a notebook.

He holds it out, and then they smile so wide he thinks it could crack the porcelain of the mask of indifference they’re wearing so perfectly.  They strangle their tail as if it were their neck, and he knows that must hurt.

They have blood, staining their feet.  Every part of them is pristine, but the dried blood is crusted on their feet, covered with dirt.

He watches them go, tired eyes and bloody feet.

He makes his dinner by himself.  He makes the fire by himself, he sits by the fire by himself.  He sleeps by himself.  He travels by himself.

There is no voice, pointing out different flowers.  He doesn’t hear about this certain mixture that can cure this illness.  He doesn’t get any anecdotes, he doesn’t hear the patter of feet as they run ahead.

It’s quiet, save for the typical sounds of the forest.  As it should be. 

The Six-Eared Macaque walks alone.

Just like a warrior should be.  Isn’t that why they left, to be alone?  Isn’t that what he wanted?

Macaque ends up back on that cliff, where they stared up at the sky on New Year's.  He never cared much for the holiday, but the Kid was insistent, so he'd let them drag him along. 

He closes his eyes, and for the first time when he thinks of fireworks he doesn't see Wukong's smile. When he opens them, the sky looks devoid of stars. 

The moon looks lonely, without them.

.

.

.

Centuries later, a silver token with amethyst gemstone eyes buzzes in Spirit’s pocket.

[sassooda]

Worlds Away JJK AU / Chapter 36 - No Longer Alone 🔞

w/c - 7,680

               “Kokoro really was a fool…I almost feel sorry.” Genghis is in the mood to celebrate as he quietly snickers through the Titer compound, planning to share the news with Getou. He passes through a crowded windowless but well-lit room heading towards the southern bunker. Nearly all of the clansmen and women bow to his presence as he cheerfully ambulates through their earthy corridors, submitting their trust into him. He enjoys the gestured acclaim, knowing full well this position being his was long overdue. After searching over the room joyfully, he becomes momentarily sidetracked as his first turbulent encounter ensues. The young Titer that served Mugoi before appears in front of him, blocking Genghis’s direct path. ‘Now to reform these loose ends…’, he thinks to himself as he assesses the young Titer’s despair. “You there, what is your name?” Genghis sees the hatred in the young man’s face.

               “…Itgeltei.”, is all the young man offers while still trying to remain fearless in front of the now most masterful man of the clan. “Itgeltei Baidal.”. His chin-length black hair waves with the wind as his deep brown eyes feign revenge.

               Genghis smirks to the spiteful response, understanding that the poor wretch has lost his own mentor and is raging with emotions. “You can come with me now, there is still much work to be done.” He motions for the young Titer to follow him but the single energized stomp in response makes him halt his resumed stance.

               “YOU KILLED MASTER KOKORO!” Baidal surges his energy and aims it at Genghis with tear filled eyes. “…and my SISTER!” His shaking limbs continue to quake as he takes a deep breath and prepares to at least injure the newly appointed head before being killed himself. “You have to pa-…”.

               Genghis, without lifting a finger, uses his presence to immediately suffocate the young man who is now clear with regret. “I certainly did not kill Mugoi or Okhin, that was the enemy.” The fear pricks its way to the surface as the young Titer now seems to recognize exactly how unmatched he is and this entertains Genghis, “See, I never inherited the ancient techniques but I’m the top dog now for a reason…”, Genghis slowly approaches while Baidal chokes, surely feeling compressed as he opens his mouth to breathe but is unable to suction in any air. “…I have learned other ways to instill my goals.”. After reaching the young Titer, he looks around to all of the surveyors that stand winded with horror. “YOU ALL UNDERSTAND WHO IS IN CHARGE NOW, RIGHT?!”. Genghis darts his eyes back to Baidal who’s face has since turned red and puffed from the lack of oxygen while he continues to struggle. A woman near the door cries, “Yes! We do Master Genghis!”, and all of the Titers before him that are able, drop to the floor to offer an extensive bow. “Alright then!”, Genghis releases the young Titer with a smile and watches him crash to his knees, gasping. Genghis kneels down before him and holds out a hand, “If you’re willing to redirect your hatred to the right place, you can still serve your clan to the upmost, Baidal.”, but he’s met with still resentful eyes and understands that the young man will need time to decide his own fate as his hand is swatted away. “If you cannot however, you serve no purpose at all. Consider my offer.”. Genghis then turns to continue walking to Getou before the young man did something hasty, not wanting a scene to erupt with so many witnesses.

               After Genghis leaves that corridor, Baidal hunts the room for any indication that he had supporters on the matter but feels completely alone as everyone looks down or simply continues with their business. ‘He may be powerful but he needs to be stopped.’, Baidal’s frustration peaks as he’s still trying to regain his breath, knowing that Genghis could have crushed him if he wanted to. Beneath his heaving he mutters the words that would have caused him death had they been heard, “He was supposed to stay locked away.”. Only by being Kokoro’s understudy did he become privy to the horrifying information of Genghis’s past and the true reason he was sent to death by the hands of Satoru Gojo to begin with. Baidal knows that there was never any love between himself and Getou, being that Kokoro committed atrocities himself. ‘I have to find allies…’, knowing he may have to outsource beyond his clan in order to have the backing necessary. ‘What does he have planned for Master Getou?’. Baidal thinks to check a few more friends before leaving the compound, his anxieties feeling all too real to ignore.

               Genghis is back to his excited mood as he feels the weight of Kokoro’s lack of existence uproot his very soul. ‘Kokoro was a mediocre man and never should have been given this role.’, he resounds internally as he feels that although that wasn’t the exact future he saw, he knew Mugoi was likely to expire at the hands of Fushiguro. “I do admire this Toji’s strength and he will certainly give us another edge until his time comes as well.”. He pretends to be kind as more Titers bow on foot to him as he passes, loving the thrill of being the faux head. The red clay-made walls and ground signify his descent into the compound, “Now we just have to work on Getou with the girl…”. Genghis smiles wider, ‘She’s truly perfect. What she’s capable of…what I’ll have her do…’. Genghis has yet to reveal all of his plans to Getou but will do so when he feels the time is right but not a moment sooner and for good reason.  Upon turning the corner towards Getou’s quarters though, he feels the gravitational presence. “Such a grown child…”, but hurriedly runs towards the door with slight apprehension, knowing there were some of the help in there with him.

               Getou is furiously releasing his gravity manipulation throughout the room. He’s yelling out but the sound means nothing in particular as he pins weaker Titers that were only there to serve him. “What am I supposed to do with THAT?!”, in pure fury he asks one of the servants as he points to the shattered bowl with water spilled all around it. “She’s…SHE IS DISGUSTING!”. The servants cry out unanimously as his fit continues but Getou purposefully doesn’t kill any of them. He looks to a younger male Titer who is already crying, “You really suggest that I should just accept this SHIT?! She’s tainted!”.

               Genghis bursts through the door, “SUGURU! STOP THIS AT ONCE!”, and uses his crippling presence to counter the waves of gravity. They’re no match for Getou’s abilities but they can at least bounce some energy back to him, thus giving his attention to Genghis. “RELEASE THEM!”.

               Suguru faces his mentor and reluctantly quells his technique, allowing the four pinned servants to scurry away through the door behind Genghis. “I wasn’t going to hurt them…but I may hurt bird bitch. You cannot SERIOUSLY expect me to want her.”. Getou now sits to the chair beside him and takes out his bun knowing he made a mess of it. ‘At least Fushiguro took action…’.

               “What happened in the small number of hours I’ve left you?” Genghis sees the shattered bowl and immediately understands that Getou saw something he didn’t like. He takes in the state of the room, all of the different craters formed about as he nears. ‘We’re lucky this part of the structure didn’t collapse…’. He’s a little irritated.

               “I will not have her as my wife.”, Getou huffs. He seethes at the images in his brain that depicted Elska, Naoya and Gojo sharing sexual relations. “She is not suited to be ANYONE’s wife!”. He accidentally snaps his hair band apart while trying to put his hair back up and becomes further infuriated. After grinding his teeth together, he tosses the useless hair tool across the room before running his hands through his long black hair. He sees Genghis nearing him and tries to recollect himself so he doesn’t seem immature. ‘Why the fuck did I have to see that?’.

               “What happened little one? What is SO bad that you feel you can justify this tantrum?” Genghis needs his words to cut but not in a way that will dislodge Getou further. He understands that sometimes he just may need a parental figure and is attempting to gratify this part of Suguru.

               “She…”, Suguru’s words silence for a moment before continuing, “…she was having sex with Zenin and Gojo…”. His fists clench reflexively as the thought of Gojo enjoying himself, living care free. It wrenches his intestines together. There’s a lack of response from Genghis, so he lowers his voice to exact his reasoning, “She fucks everyone.”, he cackles in annoyance, “Everyone but me that is.”. Getou remembers her glare when he left the room they held her in at the base. “I knew Zenin was oddly territorial with her but I never would’ve guessed this debauchery. He hates Gojo too…so I thought.”. Getou reels over the loss of his cohorts once again as he’s no longer alone but it doesn’t really feel like it.

               Genghis knows Suguru is expecting him to be riddled with disgust as well but he’s isn’t. ‘Is he..?’, Genghis is not even upset anymore as he feels that was confirmation of Suguru’s jealousy, whether Getou knows it or not. ‘Maybe there is hope for us after all…’. He lets a few seconds pass to simulate that of someone who cares. Genghis loves Suguru like a son but he also loves his own future as well along with his grandiose plans for their clan. With a small sigh he brings a chair and places it opposite of Getou and sits down. “Look little one, are you sure tha-…”.

               “SHE HAD GOJO INSIDE OF HER WHILE SHE WAS GAGGIN ON ZENIN!” Getou almost doesn’t catch himself in time to control the surging energy flowing through him. ‘Gojo… of all people.’.

               “Hmmm…”, is all Genghis offers while he thinks of how to diffuse this situation.

               “HMMM??!!!” Suguru mocks and then hollers, “What the FUCK kind of response is that?!”. He sees the glint of anger that flashes across his mentor’s eyes and decides to calm down. It’s a matter of respect.

               Genghis raises an eyebrow at how perceptive Getou can be at times although he needs to learn to be like that always. “I can see why that would bother you…”, but Getou scoffs as he turns away. “Her nature…it’s solidified but ever changing it would seem. We may not have the time we originally thought.” Suguru looks back to him now as he’s obviously curious as to what that could mean. ‘She’s already creating a small but powerful army.’.

               “What is that you know, Master?” Getou’s back to his collected demeanor as he’s eager to understand what could cause Genghis to seem so offhand on the ordeal. He looks around the destroyed room and feels slightly embarrassed, especially if there’s some kind of explanation.

               “When she drinks from the hybrid, his curse blood fuels her own. This is what I was trying to elucidate to you before.” Genghis checks to make sure he has Getou’s undivided attention. When he’s satisfied by his pupil practically hanging on the edge of his seat, he continues, “She has awakened to a small degree and with her kind, that means a growing appetite for many things and less inhibiting emotions in exchange.”. Getou’s eyes narrow in response but Genghis proceeds, “When we get her here, you’ll have to sate her needs little one so it’s best you understand now.”. He’s anticipating a rebuttal but it doesn’t arrive, ‘Good, because if you don’t, I will...and that may cause some problems.’.

               Getou is still mildly confused but understands enough that he’ll have to feed and fuck her. “I’ve already tried that, it didn’t work.”. His thoughts take to the last time he saw her, while he was working his way in.

               “You stabbed her, broke her wings and then forced yourself between her legs… let’s understand the difference here, Suguru…”, Genghis shakes his head as he didn’t want to be so blunt but at the same time, there’s no room for error there, Getou must comprehend that.

               “And she called out for Naoya when I did.”, Getou’s patience are being tried at this point. He knows he was wrong in his approach and even with his brutal nature. He also is hesitant to express anything in regards to that scent that provoked him.

               Genghis interrupts the pity party, “Because she’s afraid of you Suguru…and rightfully so!”. He softens his eyes for his pupil for just a moment, “I could never imagine expecting any other outcome. I’ve never even thought to do something like that to a woman.”, Genghis lies with complete knack.

               Getou exhales heavily and turns his gaze to the shattered bowl, “That doesn’t explain why she’s fucking everyone…”, he loses himself in those same images again and runs his finger along his scarred cheek. His eyes widen as he’s suddenly remembering the aftermath, “Toji attacked them though, I’m guessing Kokoro succeeded?”. He switches his view back to his mentor with inquisitive eyes.

               Genghis decides to hold off of the details about Elska and Toji following the incident. ‘She really is getting her fill though…’, but smiles to her ways as he watched them that day, all of it, from afar. He then tilts his head upwards and tries to hold his happiness inside as he delivers Mugoi’s fate, “Kokoro perished by the hands of Fushiguro… and Oda.”.

               Upon hearing of Mugoi’s death a small smirk appears initially but then he’s overcome with the fact that he’d always planned on taking out Kokoro himself. “How can he be dead? Isn’t he under the same technique?”. He hopes the bastard can return for more.

               Genghis allows his grin to sneak through after seeing Getou’s reaction, knowing they’re both pretty glad the fuckers gone. “Yes well, they didn’t use any techniques to kill him, they just utilized that nature of theirs. If he were killed with a cursed ability, yes, we could have reversed that.” Genghis chuckles lowly, “I told him to be extremely cautious but he ultimately underestimated this Toji gravely. To be fair though, I wasn’t expecting the girl to behave as she did…she killed Okhin viciously as well.”.

               Getou catches on to his master’s amusement and it rubs him as odd, “You said the outcome would benefit me…did you know this would happen?”. He’s decided to place that weird display in the back of his mind for the time being. ‘Okhin too?’, Getou barely knew the Titer woman but was aware of her loyalty to himself and their cause and feels regret that she lost her life.

               “I did.”. Genghis leans toward being honest about this bit at least. He waits to gauge Getou’s response and becomes eased when he can tell that his knowing won’t be met with hostility. “Mugoi wasn’t a very good man and he had no business leading this clan. His strategies were half-baked and his desires to lead were misplaced.”.

               “I never did like him…I actually hated that fucker and owed him for Kechi and Eso...” Getou sighs as there’s yet another thing to be grateful to Elska for. “Serves him right.”. ‘I wonder how she did it?’. Getou ponders on her mysterious existence and wonders what else he may not know about her. He thought he was well informed before but sees that’s not the case at all.

               Genghis smiles genuinely as he proceeds the conversation to nourish the seed he’s planted, “So…you were watching her?”. He gives a playful shove to Suguru, “You can’t hide the fact that you’re interested…I can already tell.”.

               Getou’s face becomes deadpanned at his mentor’s words. He’s self-conscious about the truth in the statement, not really being sure as to when it happened nor why. He looks back at the shattered bowl, “I was seeing if there were any tactics I could formulate based on their own.”. He feels another light push and it’s clear that Genghis wasn’t buying it. ‘Why is she so important to even him?’. He sighs in frustration, “Yes, ok? I was watching her…although I regret it now.”. His eyes widen during the statement, showing he meant it desperately.

               Genghis releases a loud cheer into the room, “ALRIGHT!”. He pats Getou on the shoulder, “This is great little one! You shall have her then!”. He can barely control his pride as he knows this step was imperative to conquer. “We will have to secure her soon before the others reach her to do the same.

               Getou wants to ask about the others mentioned but figures it pertains to the clans also aiming for the same goal. He becomes tactical, “I think we should draw them in and crush all of their shaman.”. This time, when preparing her quarters, he would take a note from Naoya and make sure she can at least be impressed by their offer. ‘Would it really make that much of a difference though?’, he’s unsure of what lies ahead because of what’s occurred in the past.

               Genghis leans forward with approval, “That is a wise idea but we should bait them first.”, he smiles maliciously, “I think we should take your lover first and give them a location.”.

               Getou blushes against his own will and tries to mask it with haste, “Whatever, that’s fine. I need to prepare an area for her.”. Suguru stands up, cloaked in agitation as he worries about what could be wrong with him. ‘Why…am I feeling so…awkward?’.

               “Don’t be ridiculous, you only need to prepare another room for yourself.” Genghis can’t believe that he’s having to hold his pupil’s hand through this but laughs to the confusion painted on Suguru’s face, “She’s going to be staying with you.”.

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

               “Cho, how do you know this? ARE THEY NEARBY?” Naoya knows Choso is also very fine tuned when it comes to sensing other techniques, primarily the Titers for having worked around them for so long. Naoya still is looking around to silently ask everyone to be on their guard.

               Choso doesn’t remove the box from his pocket. He keeps his fingers wrapped around it though and tries to figure out a way to communicate that won’t bring them to a disadvantage. His stillness unnerves everyone but Toji tries to calm the room, understanding there’s a purpose for it. Choso decides to try something. After standing, he uses his right hand to point at his pocket and while still holding the box inside of there, he flicks it a few times with his finger, creating sound.

               Gojo is the first to catch on and decides to give it a codename, “The bento box!”. He smiles to Choso’s relieved nod and turns to face everyone. “Do you remember the yellow fish delivery we received earlier?”, Toji scrunches his face but then the connection is made. “I believe that Choso’s saying he can tell by the bento box it came in.” Elska now seems to get it as well.

               “Baby? When did you eat yellow fish?” Naoya approaches her with a coy smile as the remaining members in the room sigh in frustration, thinking he was too dense to comprehend. Megumi scoffs being out of the loop and apparently feels ashamed of Naoya’s gestures. When within arm’s reach, Naoya snags Elska by the hip and kisses her cheek while whispering, “We will protect you princess.”. He feels her pull away only enough to look into his eyes. He knows she trusts him, it’s written all over her face and nothing could make him happier.

               Elska is lost in Naoya’s warm expression until a realization hits her, “Does…does that mean they saw…everything?”. She becomes completely uncomfortable at the thought and welcomes Naoya’s arms as they wrap around her fully this time. While burying her face into his chest, she can feel the bass from his voice as he laughs awkwardly above her. ‘Greeeaaaaat…’.

               “Well at least it was worth watching…I can attest to that!”, Gojo’s eyes brighten as he recalls the three of them on the bed. ‘It was…perfection.’. Nanami sends narrow eyes over to him which he can feel instantly and against his rowdier judgement, decides to leave it at that.

               Toji scoffs while looking at Gojo, “You’re the fucking worst, you do know that, right?”. He’s never been able to stand Satoru’s need to gloat about everything, especially when it comes to her.

               Gojo warps himself behind Elska, “Oh…but she loves it…” and ruts his pelvis into her rear.

               Naoya uses his projection technique to pull her away afterward, “You’re too fucking much Gojo, don’t expect that shit to happen again.”. He actually really enjoyed the threesome for the most part but sees that he stoked an already heated fire within Gojo by participating. ‘This guy is not right in the head!’.

               “Sati! Why would you do that in front of everyone?!”, She’s not felt Naoya’s technique first hand like that and stumbled with collecting herself after being moved with such speed. ‘Did he seriously just hump me?’.

               Nanami yells, “SATORU!”, with absolute disapproval as Megumi scowls heavily beside him.

               Choso loses himself in thought after hearing Gojo’s mischievous giggles. ‘Do they know that this connects their energy to us? I can tell when they’re spying…’. He twirls the box within his fingertips in his pocket as he tries to formulate an explanation as to why the Titers left it behind if this was genuine. He looks back over to Toji now, ‘Is he really ok? What did this do to him?’. Choso’s eyes now take to Megumi and his heart sinks knowing that they’ve only just begun their father and son relationship officially, ‘I have to figure this out before it’s too late.’. He still hears the voices of everyone else but doesn’t register that his name is being called. The surging energy from the box also ceases and he quietly states, “I think they’re done for now…”.

               Toji sighs, “Thank god, those fucking creeps have nothing better to than to use ourselves against us.”.

               Naoya and Elska both relax into each other knowing they can likely move more freely now. Naoya smiles at her but then continues what they were originally talking about. “I’ll get you some sweets baby!”. He now turns to Choso who is still in his own mind, “Cho!”, Naoya is waving at his friend, “Does that sound alright to you?”.

               Elska chimes in, “I swear I won’t bite you again!”, she looks around to everyone, “Although I am due for a feed soon…”.

               Naoya gasps, “Well I’ll stay too!”. He’s weary of her feeding from Choso for many reasons, his personal ones at the forefront though.

               Toji huffs, “I think you two should make yourselves scarce when we come back.”, his vision glaring between Naoya and Gojo. “You two have had enough today.”.

               Gojo wants to say something smart to rile Toji up but decides that maybe that wasn’t such a huge demand. He looks to Naoya and whines, “Let Toji feed her tonight…”. He kicks at nothing to display his disappointment but knows that he owes the giant this much at least.

               Naoya grabs her hands now and looks down to her with his weak protest, “Baaaby…”, but then sighs as he can understand where Gojo is coming from, “…Ok…but tomorrow you feed from me!”. He smiles gleefully as he secures one of his favorite past times. Of course, he enjoys the feeling her bite surges through him but more than anything else, he loves how much she enjoys drinking from him. It certainly makes him feel needed and with all of the testosterone surrounding her now, he appreciates the affirmations he receives from her, this one especially. ‘If only I had my own fangs…’.

               “If she drinks too much of you boy, she’ll get fucking cavities.”. Toji laughs to his own joke though as he meant nothing foul by it, he’s actually surprised he didn’t receive more resistance from either of them on the matter of feeding.

               “What are you guys about to do?” Choso now feels he missed something important.

               Elska and Gojo chuckle at the fact that Choso indeed tuned them all out moments ago.

               “They’re going on a food run while you stay with me, if that’s ok!”. Elska smiles and continues, “You can take a shower too if you want, I won’t leave the room but you’ll still have privacy in there.”. She walks over to the bathroom and pulls out a fresh towel from a neat stack that lays on iron shelving next to the tub.

               “And make sure you’re clothed when you leave the bathroom…”, Gojo’s tries to make his tone lighter but he’s serious. “I saw what you’re hiding underneath those clothes, you thick ass stallion!”, and laughs to Choso’s widening eyes.

               Choso recalls Gojo complimenting his body before  and becomes flustered by the accusations being launched at him and quickly defends himself, “Elska! I promise I wouldn’t try to do anything sexy to you!”. He hears Gojo roar into laughter and anchors his eyebrows in a way that show the silver shaman that he’s been teased enough for one day.

               “I would hope not.” Megumi makes his quiet presence known again as he’s only just calmed down after seeing his sensei hump her…and then there’s the feeding. He turns his nose up and hollers while leaving for the door with Nanami, “GIVE HER SOME SPACE.”.

               “Doll, I’ll be right back alright?” He grins when she nods in anticipation and he can sense that she’s as eager to feed from him as he is to feed her.

               “Umm…I will too, don’t forget that part old man…”, Naoya finally releases his hands from her as he forces himself away and towards the door. “Be right back baby!” He blows her a kiss from the doorway but waits impatiently for Gojo to make his exit.

               Gojo now grabs her hands and with a serious face says, “Love, just be careful and wait for Toji. We will back after you have some time.” He smiles, “Don’t bite Choso in case it’s related to that other you ok?” He kisses her on the forehead gently before stepping back and taking in her comfortable and casual appearance while relishing on his recent lush memories of them. He glances to Choso, “If anything happens, make a portal to Naoya but we should be back really soon.

               Choso nods and is glad that there was reiteration over him being the source of her nourishment. ‘Gojo is far more intelligent than he typically lets on…’. After everyone leaves the room, the silence engulfs them. “I uhh…I guess I will take a shower now.”, and dutifully heads into the bathroom.

               “Wait there’s a trick!” Elska rushes past the door before he can close it in order to reach the faucet. The temperature designated knobs are actually reversed and she didn’t want Choso to fall victim to ignorance’s cruelty. Once adjusted, she stands up tall and smiles, “Now, you’re all set!”.

               “I tend to take lengthy showers, please do not be alarmed by this.” Choso feels the steam beginning to take form and is ready to wash the day away. She giggles and says “That’s totally fine, relax a bit.” Before switching on the fan and shutting the door behind her. As he undresses, he folds his new pajamas neatly on the counter, planning to put them back on when he’s finished. For a moment he freezes as this doesn’t make sense, how can he watch her while he bathes? ‘Oh, they were way ahead of me with this one…’. He forms his observer window, focuses it on her and leaves the curtain parted so he can check it from time to time.

               Elska isn’t sure why but as soon as the words, “Relax a bit” left her, she felt the urge to do so herself. “Well…he did say he takes long showers…and they’re no longer watching us…”, she walks over to Choso’s unintentional gift and honestly just wants to try it. After grabbing it, she cautiously makes her way back to the bed, dropping her new ace sweatpants to the floor before laying on her back. Her mind brings her back to Naoya and Satoru taking her and becomes flooded with arousal. “That really was…amazing.”. Her nimble fingers press the tiny rubber button located on the bottom of the little pink mouse and jumps with excitement when it turns on. ‘This shouldn’t take much time at all!’, and gleams to its vibrational impact. The thought of Naoya extracting her pheromones and orgasms while Satoru filled her mouth sends a sensation between her thighs before the vibrator ever reached its target. She self consciously listens for any sudden movement in the bathroom, wondering why she was really about to do this right now. ‘I just feel like I need to…’, but is trying to ignore the fact that she’s seen plenty of action for one day, at least normally. Once the silicone bullet reaches her clitoris, her body tenses up by the sensations it sends through her and she quietly gasps with a wide smile.

               Choso is rinsing his hair, enjoying the scented products that fall and mix into the water. ‘How does my hair feel this smooth after just shampoo?’, he’s amazed and feeling anew. After applying the thick conditioner, he decides to read the ingredients from the bottle located at the other end of the tub. When he grabs it, he turns to check his observer window to make sure everything is alright. “Oh my…”. His eyes are wide and the shock from what he’s seeing steals his attention thus causing the shampoo bottle to be dropped onto his foot. “OW!”.

               Elska hears the commotion and immediately closes her legs for cover. She’s panting lightly as she was already pretty close to being done with this test drive but still calls out, “Chos…Choso? Are you alright in there?!”. She sits up as she listens carefully for a response.

               “I uhhh…Yea!! I’m great! Just…dropped something!”. Choso feels his heart pounding through him and when he looks down can see his chest beat along with it. ‘I should’ve just told her the truth!’, he panicked though. He stands at the end of the tub where the water barely touches him as he breathlessly waits for a sign that she’d either stop or continue. ‘Does she not know I’m observing her?’. He watches her settle back into the bed but has failed to notice his instant erection until this point and whispers, “Damnit…”. When she places the mouse back on her sensitive areas, he can see her face twist in pleasure and cannot help himself. Choso begins to stoke his member as his human desires take over and shudders to the wonderful sensations it sends through him. Elska moans quietly but Choso is audibly attached to his window so he hears it. He watches her placement of the toy and is surprised to see that it’s used to for surface features rather than being for inside. He continues to pump his hand, gaining speeding even while the water threatens to stop his motions, moaning himself as he studies the visual before him. “Women…they’re such…beautiful creatures…”, he whispers through his small gasps.

               Elska is working towards her climax, intermittently edging herself when she feels she’s too close, not wanting to end the pleasure so soon. She thinks about how Toji always tries to stimulate her with his hands while he works himself into her, causing her toes to curl. ‘Toji and this would be incredible…’, she pictures him with his wings and fangs out, using his mass to pin her against the bed as he thrusts through her. In this fantasy, he would hold the mouse down against her, forcing her to endure the bliss while locking glowing eyes. “Holy…oh…yes…”, she whines out underneath her breath as she feels her moisture gather. She imagines him smugly smirk above her before saying, “Doll, you’re so fucking wet for me.”, but realizes that would be much more of a Satoru thing.

               Choso is no longer even bathing by this point but has opened the curtains further so he can still receive the warmth from the water as he continues towards his own relief. Every time her body arches or she whispers confirmation to how good she’s feeling, his hand increases speed by itself. He looks down to see how unbearably hard he is and bites his lip as his vision takes back to his technique. His mind is plaguing him as he doesn’t have a direct desire to sleep with her but she’s always the subject of his sexual thoughts. He imagines himself sitting between her knees, administering the mouse. “Mmmm…”, he groans while thinking of her furrowed brow and flush expression being the product of his placement. His hand grips his girth and he momentarily seethes and hisses to the building rise coursing through him. He whispers her name to his own dismay, feeling that it increased his ability to reach his orgasm. The water falling down his back has become cooler but it doesn’t deter him from this interesting experience.

               She is now daydreaming about Satoru’s aggressive behavior. ‘He would most definitely use this mouse as a tool to dominate.’, and the thought of him bending her over while making her hold it to herself almost makes her unravel. He’d say things like, “Awww love, what’s the matter? Can’t handle it?”, and she would have to respond to him before he’d smack her ass…but maybe she would keep quiet on purpose. He’d likely grab her by the throat and raise her up from behind so he could hear her clearly as he spreads her from within. She gasps to this and arches her body again as she nearly lost herself. Her eyes open widely though as she’s sure he would attempt anal next…but she wouldn’t necessarily fight him. ‘If I ever tell him that I actually like it, he would try it all of the time though…’, and the idea of him relentlessly trying to impale her in that manner slightly decreases her arousal.

               Choso is all but minutes away from being spent. He’s staring intently into the observer’s window and ignores her change in demeanor. Instead, he’s now wondering about this taste that women provide. He still isn’t sure you’re supposed to lick them there but the probability of it being allowed makes him imagine how he would. The expression on her face is back to be pleasant so maybe if he would take his tongue to the same spot where the mouse is located, he could cause this too. His eyes are closed at this point, while he hastily grips and rhythms with his hand so when she cries out, his imagination runs wild and he imagines inserting himself into her. That was a mistake though because in this moment, he’s releasing his contents all over himself and the tub while he fails to cease his motion.

               Naoya’s sweet but domineering nature saved the day. While reliving old memories of when she was his prisoner, she remembers the sexual tension that made her crave him even more. While envisioning them on their sides again, she smiles to the desperation felt that consumed her, making her take him in his sleep. “Oh…Naoyaaaaa…”. It really didn’t matter what he would try with her, Elska was likely to allow him wantonly, she trusts him fully in this realm. In her sexual dream however, he’s given glowing red eyes and golden wings. He would brush her hair aside while rocking his hips while they lay there but he’d also lean down to pierce her neck. “God pleeeeassee…”, she begs the universe to at least be able to simulate what his fangs would feel like. She cries out though in real time and releases a wave of pheromones as her legs tremble, the orgasm following immediately after. She lies there panting, not having removed the mouse from her hand, nor has she budged to change her position. Her eyes take to the little mouse though while she heaves and feels her arousal seeping out, “This was actually a wonderful gift Choso!”. She smiles and feels the cold chills that are result of her thin layer of sweat. She goes to sit herself up but finds she just doesn’t have the energy in this moment. Her eyes dart open as she recalls, “CHOSO! SHIT!”, having temporarily forgotten that he was in the bathroom, only a few feet away. She sits up tensely to gather herself as the door is pushed open. She screams, “DON’T!”. She feels so ridiculous as she knew Toji’s door no longer latched.

               Choso heard her scream and although he’s a mess he launches out of the shower. “Elska! What’s wrong?!”.

               Toji stands in the doorway first inhaling the scent before noticing Elska’s position and eyes the mouse next her on the bed. The fact that she wasn’t dressed on her lower half clearly gave it away. He feels himself get a little excited but its all but crushed as a wet and naked Choso barrels out of the bathroom door. “What the f…”.

               Elska quickly covers herself before Choso has a chance to turn around but she can’t help but stare at him against her better judgement. His body is so refined and built, his lower half just as impressive. She doesn’t feel any desire to experience him but she can still appreciate a good work of art. When their eyes meet, Choso turns beet red and flails his hands in an attempt to shield them from his usually hidden parts. “I thought something was wrong!”.

               “The fact that you’re out here butt ass naked is the something that’s wrong buddy…”, Toji glares at the being and huffs. Toji points his finger toward the door and says, “Go get some fucking clothes on! What were you doing in there to still be bathing?!”. A realization hits him and he growls at the possibility that Choso was relieving himself in his shower. “How the fuck were you planning on protecting her if you were in there the entire time?!”, Toji demands an explanation.

               Choso looks away from Toji and to the floor, “Well…I was watching her still…I just multitasked.”. He can feel Toji’s presence intensify immensely and wonders if he should have just lied and apologized.

               Elska folds over in the bed and curls up in embarrassment. ‘Does he mean…he watched me do that?”, she too mortified to ask or even look at either of them.

               Naoya now walks through the door, “CHO! WHAT THE FUCK!?”. He sees Elska hiding in the bed and after seeing his friend’s bareness, freaks out. “WHAT DID YOU DO!?”, he runs to Elska who’s actively deflecting any interaction and he assumes the worse. “Baby! What happened?!”, He then sees the pink mouse on the bed and feels his left eye twitch. He snatches it from beside her and charges Choso, “YOU THOUGHT TO USE THIS ON HER?!”. He sees the surprise in Choso’s eyes and even through his anger, realizes that he jumped to conclusions.

               Elska understands this is taking a wrong turn so she sits up again and says, “I used it on myself! Choso was just taking a shower and bolted out here when I screamed!”.

               Naoya stops now, being only about a foot away from Choso. “Baby, what caused you to scream?”, he now looks at the toy with a raised eyebrow, ‘Could it really be that good?’. Choso’s eyes meet it too and the being blushes further.

               “She screamed when I came through the door, boy, calm down.” Toji is now pinching the bridge of his nose in aggravation to the endless web of miscommunication that spins between them. He walks over to Naoya and steals the mouse. “You guys need to scram for a few. She needs to feed and I’m tired of there being a god damn peanut gallery.”.

               Choso immediately rushes into the bathroom to change as Naoya pouts while walking back to Elska. “Baby, I’m parking right next door and I’ll be back as soon as you are finished.”.

               “We actually are switching rooms tonight!” Gojo now strolls in, having listened from the hall. He comprehends everything that just happened, from the dual masturbation to the sad accusations that were pointed to Choso. If he hadn’t stayed behind though Megumi would’ve seen everything before being shooed away and that’s the only thing that bothers him. ‘Toji is going to have to handle that soon…’.

               “This is my room you silver fuck, I don’t want to move.”, Toji defends his messy territory that has suffered from the multiple people using it.

               Elska is further jolted by Satoru’s sudden appearance but calmly asks, “What are you talking about Sati?”. She’s now quickly donning her ace pants while trying her best to make it seem like she’s no longer bothered by what may have taken place with Choso. ‘I’m just glad that topic got skipped over…’.

               “We’re going to a bigger room, with a bigger bed.” Gojo winks at her as he’s still bent on proving to her that the additional company can be worked with. “But you two can still feed here, I’ll have Naoya and Choso help me set everything up!”. His eyes take to Toji, “Surely you can understand why this room’s defenses are no longer suitable…”. He glances to Elska and brings his palms up to the situation they’re in with an expression that says, “Think about it.”.

               “I swear if it’s poorly designed, I’m going to snap. Color scheme and layout is everything Gojo…”, Naoya rolls his eyes as he’s really not in the position to refuse lodging but wishes he didn’t have to share everything with his cousin and him.

               Toji howls, “You fucking broke the door in the first place you cunt!”. He never knows how far the silver shaman will go but is slowly wondering if there are any boundaries at all. Becoming further irritated, he starts to manually push everyone towards hall. “Get the fuck out!”. Naoya is still protesting to being forced to leave even as Toji shuts the door in his face, hearing his whining through the wood. “Jesus Christ…they’re such fucking handful…”.

               Elska giggles to Toji’s vexation but sits on her knees as the large man returns toward her, sitting on the bed.

               Naoya is still on the other side of the door, “Choso is in there you old fart!”.

               Toji’s eyes narrow to the bathroom but before he can say anything, Choso quickly races out with soaking hair and practically runs to the door leading to the hallway. He now sighs and slouches over on the edge of the bed, “Doll…sometimes it’s so much to navigate through…”, he looks to her, “…are you not overwhelmed by all of this?”. His hand finds it’s way to her cheek after he orients his body more towards her. They’re eyes respond to each other, him not knowing who’s began glowing first.

               “It is…a lot…”. She admits while nuzzling into his hand. “…but look at how you three loners are no longer alone.”, she means it and smiles genuinely as that part does lift her heart. She watches Toji scoot back onto the bed but to his knees and her teeth peer through her lips as she gathers he’s getting straight to it. With slow motion, she crawls over top of him until she’s perfectly seated in his lap and his arms are securing her body against him. Looking down from now overhead, she chuckles, “Just like our first time…”, and brushes his hair from his face as she happily takes in the details of his rugged features. “I’m really sorry about earlier Toji…I really wasn’t expecting Sati to take us away like that. I really wasn’t expecting any of it actually.”.

               Toji can sense her guilt and feels like he should address his prior purpose. “Doll, I was just worried Gojo was taking things too far…like before. I didn’t trust that he would have your best interest at heart which is why I was so angry.”. He lifts his chin so he can tuck her head underneath it while holding her, “I am with you no matter what, never forget that.”. Toji closes his eyes as he feels her relax and cackles, “Naoya already said he wasn’t going to do that again but I feel like Gojo will still try.”. He pulls her away and bends his neck to the side to give her full access with a smile.

               “You’re too good for me, Toji…”, she laments while eyeing his neck. Instead of immediately biting him though she turns his head back towards her for a deep and passionate meeting of the lips. He responds by send his tongue into her mouth, causing her to whimper as she grips his sleek black hair with her right hand while holding his throat with her left, not even meaning to. Both of their fangs form as soon as he breaks their lustrous kiss and he again positions his head to the side as she lowers her own. She can hear him groan as her teeth skip across the skin of his neck and right as she’s about to puncture him, Satoru’s presence can be felt.

               “LOVE WAIT!” He runs over to the bed as Elska didn’t seem to even flinch. “Choso made a valid point!”, Toji’s glowing eyes finally meet his so he continues, “If Toji has Titer energy in him, this is about to be another fucking catastrophe!”.

               Toji swiftly blocks Elska from his neck and rolls over so she’s pinned to the bed, being startled by her reaction.

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