#someone pants from physical exertion

[not-the-state]

Ok yeah the Minecraft movie trailer came out, but here's the real question:

When is the Hermitcraft movie trailer coming out???

[intheemptymirror]

drunk dazed !

drunk-roommate!sunghoon x roommate!reader

summary: you never would’ve expected sunghoon— resident ice prince— to be the clingy type of drunk

genre: fluff

warnings: mentions of drinking, sunghoon is drunk (duh), sunghoon and reader aren’t dating but they definitely have a crush/lil somethin goin on, you and sunghoon are roommates, you take sunghoons clothes off but it’s in a non sexual manner, he asks you to help him change, ooc sunghoon

a/n: i would consider myself an engene but i think they’re one of the groups i’m more of a casual fan about if that makes any sense? like i like their music and i consume their content and i have a bias and everything but they’re not one of my MAIN-main groups yknow? but i still love them and wanted to write something for them and i got this idea about how cute it would be if sunghoon was like clingy n stuff so here we are. tbh i don’t love this fic but i just wanted it done and i thought that even if i don’t like it maybe someone out there will. i have a jay fic idea in the works too so if you like enhypen that’ll be out eventually too ;)

if somebody bet you twenty bucks that sunghoon was the clingy type drunk, you would’ve paid them right then and there.

but here you were.

for the past few years you guys had been friends, you don’t think you could remember a time you ever saw him drunk. a little tipsy, sure, but never drunk. and then after you became roommates— which meant spending even more time around each other than before— you still hadn’t seen him get to that state. you had always just assumed he either had a scary high tolerance to alcohol or just didn’t like alcohol all that much.

sunghoon had gone out with the rest of the enhypen boys for a couple of drinks that night, which wasn’t anything unusual or new. what was unusual and new was the extent to which sunghoon drank himself. when he walked out the door three hours ago you weren’t expecting to get a phone call from jay telling you to come pick up your very drunk, very clingy best friend. having to carry a practically incapacitated grown man down the streets of seoul for fifteen minutes and then up a flight of stairs wasn’t a scenario you thought about very often but it was as hard as you would’ve originally imagined.

“y/nnie!” sunghoon whined out into your ear, his weight heavy against your back. a feeling that you would normally find comfort in was now a bit of an inconvenience. you huff out a bit of air and incoherently grumble a bit in what most would consider barely a response, but sunghoon didn’t seem to pay much mind as he pressed himself impossibly further into you. it felt like his whole goal was to make this as difficult as possible, as if gravity was dragging his body down to the ground and wanted to take you with him. you trip over your feet but manage to stay somewhat upright, which only makes sunghoon giggle.

you finally managed to stumble your way down the hall to your apartment door, stopping to catch your breath for a moment. as you stood still and panted with your eyes mindlessly locked onto the small apartment numbers on the door, sunghoon took the opportunity to nudge his nose into your cheek, his dark hair tickling the soft skin of your face. the sensation suddenly snapped you out of whatever trance you were in, making your body jolt slightly before you started the process of trying to open the door. you’re not sure why you were so eager to get sunghoon physically away from you while at the same time wanting him to stay attached to you forever. maybe your fast beating heart was from the physical exertion sunghoon put you through; maybe it was from the emotional. you didn’t have time to dwell on it now.

you grunted as you tried to shift sunghoon’s weight on your back so you could reach the keys sitting in your back pocket. he must’ve thought you were trying to get him off when you started to move because he let out a whine before gripping onto the front of your shirt in his large hands and tightening his arms around your neck to keep himself on you, which only threw your balance off and made you stumble back. you caught yourself before letting out an exasperated groan. “you’re making this really difficult, yknow.” sunghoon simply giggled in response and poked your cheek with his pointer finger, moving his head to press his face flat into the side of yours.

“you’re making this really difficult,” he slurs out his words. you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the small smile and soft laugh that escaped your lips.

“that makes no sense,” you say more to yourself than to him as you finally manage to slide your hand into your back pocket to fish out the apartment keys before unlocking the door and stumbling into the entry way, the sound of your bodies knocking into the wall disturbing the serenity of yours and sunghoon’s (and probably your neighbors) apartment. you somehow managed to slip your shoes off without falling to the wood floor before hauling sunghoon off to his room.

you turn your back to the mattress and completely let go of his weight, letting him flop onto the bed unceremoniously. he let out a grunt as his back hit the sheets, his arm pathetically coming up to try and reach for you once more. you huffed and turned to watch over him for a moment with your hands on your hips while you caught your breath. you watched him paw at the air in search for you before you grasped onto his hand to gently sit him up. he went silent as he tiredly blinked up at you, his pretty, brown eyes practically staring you down.

his intense gaze started to make you nervous, reminding you of a cat watching its owner. his eyes never wavered as he watched you walk over to his closet and rummage around it for a moment before pulling out a plain white t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants before dropping it onto the bed next to him. “get changed, i’ll leave the room.” as you start to walk away, sunghoon gently grasped your wrist in his hand, stopping you in your tracks. your eyes widen and lips part in surprise as you look between his half-lidded eyes, then to where his hand is making contact with your skin, then back again.

“help me,” he mumbles out. you open your mouth to deny his request, but upon seeing how he slightly sways side to side from intoxication and exhaustion you decide it would just be easier (and probably safer) to help him. “please.”

you study his face for any sign of hesitation before you slowly nod. “okay.” you step closer, standing between his legs as he stares up at you. your heart rate spikes at the sight of his flushed face and cute moles and messy hair and gorgeous eyes with their attention completely on you. you blink a few times to snap yourself out of the trance he’s put you in before your shaky hands hesitantly reach for the hem of the shirt he has on.

“lift your arms up.” you direct him once you’ve taken the fabric in your grasp to which he complies immediately, limply throwing his arms up into the air. you tug the shirt up— it gets stuck to which he thrashes around a bit to get it undone— and over his head before tossing it into the laundry basket sat in the corner of his room. you try not to stare too hard at the expanse of bare skin suddenly available to you, averting your eyes and swallowing harshly to calm yourself down. you choose not to say anything else before reaching for the black jeans he has on, hooking your fingers through the belt loops to tug him to a standing position. he stumbles slightly before balancing out and giggling, standing like a mannequin waiting to be dressed. which in a way, he kind of was.

you unhook his belt and tug his pants off gently before quickly grabbing the pair of sweats and crouching down to help him step into each leg of the pants. you’re glad you were too focused on getting him into them without him falling to focus on the fact that he had been practically naked in front of you for a few moments. you stand back up and tell him to lift up his arms once more, slipping the shirt on— without getting it stuck this time— and watching the moles that dotted his body disappear underneath the cloak of white fabric. throughout this whole process, his eyes hadn’t left your figure even once.

finally having him dressed in clean clothes, you usher him to get into bed, pulling back the covers and gently nudging him onto the mattress. he follows your direction with little resistance, little hums escaping his mouth here and there as he watched you pull up the soft covers and tuck him in gently. “comfortable?” he does a close eyed nod and smiles softly in response. you smile and nod in return. “good,” you whisper.

“i’m gonna go get you some water,” you brush his hair off of his forehead and make barely any moves to leave the room, but are stopped by him sitting upright so fast it was as if he was coming back from the dead and his hands shooting out to grab your arm.

“no!” sunghoon lets out a whine of protest, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes starting to gloss over with tears, his bottom lip jutted out in a pout as it starts to tremble. you’re completely caught off guard by his reaction, even more so when he starts to tug you back towards him until your knees are knocking against the bed. “don’t go, don’t leave me,”

you think you can hear your heart breaking at the sight, the feeling of it clenching uncomfortably in your chest overwhelming. you smile softly at him and reach out your free hand to pet his head in an attempt to soothe him, his lashes fluttering and head leaning into your palm at the sensation. “i’m just gonna go get you some water. you won’t even notice that i’m gone.”

“i always notice when you’re gone.” sunghoon’s voice rings out so clear and suddenly he looks the most sober he’s been the entire night. his vulnerability; it catches you off guard, but you can’t help but like the way it feels coming from him. it’s silent for a few moments more as you let the words he’s said sink into your brain. “just stay with me,” he whispers, as if afraid that if he speaks too loud, the fragile, glass-like state of whatever it is you two are in will shatter under his words.

you blink at him a few times before nodding softly. “okay,” you whisper back. sunghoon pulls back the covers before he guides you onto the open space he’s left you, laying down and tugging the blanket over your shoulders. after he deems you properly tucked in, he rests his cheek on his hands and stares. you both study each other in the moonlit room, your features somehow more ethereal in the soft glow. “you should go to sleep. you don’t want a hangover in the morning,” you whisper.

“i will in a minute,” he whispers back. you can see the cogs turning in his head, as if he was debating both for and against himself in his mind. you realize what that look was for though when the bed dips slightly under his weight as he shuffles closer to you, his arm coming up to rest heavy on your waist. “just let me do this,” he slides his other arm under your head before pulling you until you were pressed against his body. he lets out a sigh into the quiet night as his body finally seems to fully relax, the feeling of you against him helping his hyped up state from the clubbing and alcohol dissipate. he tucks your head underneath his chin, his hand mindlessly rubbing back and forth on your back, lulling you into a sleepy state as well.

you press yourself closer to him and bring your arms to wrap around his torso to hold him in return as you let your eyes flutter shut. “goodnight, sunghoon.”

“goodnight, y/n.” he replies, his breathing evening out as he drifts off to sleep. you smile to yourself before you drift off shortly after, meeting him once more in your dreams.

[moon7jay]

OKAY (p.sh)

Warnings : smut, rough sex, degradation, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Dedicated to •┈┈⛧ @hoondrop

Sunghoon didn't think of it much when you let him into your apartment without a single word when usually you'd be huffing and puffing because he showed up unannounced. He didn't think much of it when you slipped off your dress silently and laid on the bed, spread open, waiting for him to use you however he wanted.

He attributed it to you being really needy. Sunghoon was too lost in his own lust to notice how you cried out his name when he slipped himself home inside of your wet heat in one painful thrust. Your nails dug into his back and your hazy eyes fell on his expressions of bliss, hot pants falling from his mouth, brows furrowed and eyes fixated on your heaving chest. He wasn't even looking at your face and an acute pain started to bloom inside your chest.

"Fuck-oh god-never been inside a pussy so fucking good ,you were just made to be fucked" He grunted, pelting his hips harshly into you. His touches were rough, palms groping around your body in a desperate abandon, leaving bruises in their wake. Usually you loved it, your body welcomed the familiar sting and the pleasure that came along with it, but the bruises from your inside were looming on the surface today, making you feel like an open, gaping wound.

He buried his face inside the crook of your neck, folding your body in half, his thrusts merciless as always. "fucking slut, can't stop coming back to this tight little cunt, you should get paid for it" he panted in your ear. His words were hitting you as hard as his thrusts were, the hollowness in your chest intensifying by the second. Soft sobs started leaving your lips before you could stop them.

"Yeah ? Does it hurt?" He asked coming up to rest his forehead against yours, looking you dead in the eye for the first time since he came over. His eyes were dark in lust, hot breaths of exertion falling on your lips while his hips kept pounding you into the sheets. You nodded, your vision becoming blurry as you were unable to control the onslaught of tears that was wracking your body. "You can take it, just keep letting me use this hot little body till I'm fucking satisfied" His movements became rapid, you could tell that he was close. Your walls were breaking down with each snap of his hips, pain beginning to constrict your throat. Your breaths were becoming shorter, sobs becoming ugly, the physical pain transcending into emotional one.

You hated it, hated feeling so vulnerable and raw, especially in front of someone who didn't give two fucks about you. Maybe it was the stupid feelings you had started harbouring for the boy above you that were begging him to notice your suffering. To see you, look beyond the relief that your body had to offer and peek behind the mask which was your face. To hold your aching body till it didn't feel like something was clawing it's way out of your chest, till you could voice out your grief and give this empty feeling a name.

Sunghoon's mind was beginning to get clouded over by the feelings of ecstasy, his hips stuttering, feeling his high approaching closer. Even though his body was responding to the pleasure you were giving him, something about the way you were looking at him was filling him with unease. He had never seen you crying so much during sex and something inside him was telling him that this was something else. Those weren't the sobs of pleasure that were racking your tiny form underneath him, your wails sounded like cries of actual pain and he wasn't sure what to do. His high faded into the void the more that he focused on your quivering lips and flooded eyes, his hips coming to a halt inside of you. When you didn't stop wailing despite the lack of his assault on your lower body, sunghoon's chest constricted in panic. Did he hurt you? what the fuck was going on?

You were jolted out of your agony by the feeling of two big palms cupping your face.

"Y/n? Hey, hey, calm down" Sunghoon's panic filled voice penetrated through the viel of tears covering your eyes. It took you a while to notice how he wasn't inside of you anymore, the aching between your legs was lost somewhere between your grief stricken cries. You pushed him away and curled into yourself, wrapping your hands around your middle to find some sort of comfort. Rocking your body back and forth to calm your stuttering breaths. This was all you had. For as long as you can remember, this tiny stroke of comfort was all you had to ground yourself to reality. The fact that someone else was witnessing your breakdown was making you feel defenseless. "G-Go please" you sobbed and closed your eyes to drown out your surroundings.

Sunghoon's brain was going into overdrive. Seeing you like this was something he had not thought about even in his worst nightmares and he felt helpless. He didn't want to leave but at the same time he didn't want to push your limits either, so he gathered his clothes and dressed himself as fast as he could. There was an intense urge to hold you that was blooming in his chest, but who was he kidding? He couldn't comfort people for shit. Sunghoon didn't do emotions, he didn't do feelings and he sure as fuck didn't care about anyone, so why were you making him feel this way?

As he took one last look at your naked body curled into a fetus position, your cries tearing through his heart, sunghoon did what he did best. He left.

As you stared at the empty screen of your phone with no calls or messages from sunghoon, you could hear the distinct sound of your heart breaking. One would think you would have gotten used to that sound by now. How pathetic.

Did you not know how it was gonna end from the beginning? or when you decided to be vulnerable and scare him away ? Did you really think you meant something to him? That you meant more to him than just a warm body to fuck? How many heart breaks would it take for you to realize that you were just convenient? Convenient and replaceable and so so naive. You wouldn't call yourself naive tho, you were just desperate. Choosing to ignore reality to live in momentary illusions of happiness. You guess this is what becomes of people who come out of broken homes, searching for little specks of love where it doesn't exist, deluding yourself till the glaring reality decides to shove you back to where you came from. Somewhere along the way, you had come to terms with the fact that you couldn't make people love you. You had always lacked that ability, to make someone want you, to make someone stay.

You picked on the scab of wound on your knuckle mindlessly, chuckling to yourself as tears started streaming down your face again. You out of all people should have known better. You had so much love inside of you and no one to give it to. And what was excess love if not grief? Where do you put this agony? How do you get rid of this aching need to be enough for someone else?

He must be with some other girl right now, some girl who didn't ruin his pleasure with random breakdowns and ugly sobs. Someone who wasn't so difficult and unlovable and excruciatingly clingy. you kept scratching till the healed skin was peeling off, making way for warm blood to ooze out. A sigh fell from your quivering lips at the familiar sting, wondering if he stayed when other girls asked him to.

Sunghoon downed his 6th shot of the night and yet, he was wide awake and functioning. He'd been sitting in this godforsaken bar for days but no amount of alcohol could take you out of his head. You were like a constant itch at the back of his mind. What fucked him up the most was the fact that he missed you. Utterly and desperately. And not just your body, he missed YOU. He missed your giggles and he missed your flustered smiles. He missed the way you sassed him when he teased you. He missed watching his big palms engulf your small ones.

The past few days had been enough to bring him to the glaring realization that he needed you. He cared about you. Your wails were still ringing in his ears and your broken voice when you told him to leave was haunting him at nights. His dark circles could attest to that. His hands shook with the desperate need to call you and hear your voice but he was a coward. He left you in your worst moment and the guilt and shame was eating him from the inside. What would he even say to you? You probably hated him now.

His mind drifted off to the conversation you had with him a few weeks ago. He'd been getting ready to leave when your soft, hesitant voice had spoken the words which changed the trajectory of his life. "c-can you stay?" you'd asked and sunghoon had looked at you like he'd seen a ghost. Your tiny figure had been wrapped in your white sheets while you peered up at him nervously, your fingers fiddling with the stray thread on the duvet. "can you stop being fucking clingy?" He'd replied, regretting his words as soon as he'd seen you visibly flinch. Then truth was that he'd been afraid. He was scared then and he was scared now. Scared of how badly he'd wanted to stay.

He downed another shot and hoped it would be enough to give him the liquid courage for what he was about to do.

You didn't know what to expect when your doorbell rang in the middle of the night. You were lounging on your couch in the living room, staring blankly at the romcom playing on your television. Your first thought was to ignore it, the emotional distress of the past few days had taken so much away from you physically that you had little to no strength left in your body.

But whoever was behind that door was persistent. Ringing and ringing till you couldn't help but heave yourself up from the couch in frustration.

You yanked the door open and froze. It took a few seconds for you to process the fact that he was standing in front of you and another few seconds to stop yourself from running into his arms. You swallowed harshly and stepped aside to let him in. His eyes were fixated on you and you were looking anywhere but at him. Not quite ready to face your demons just yet. You weren't surprised to see him at your door to be honest, he couldn't stay without sex for too long.

At least you are useful for something, you thought. You were in the middle of slipping off your top's strap down your shoulder when his voice interrupted you. "What are you doing?" He asked, making you look up at him, staring at him blankly. "Getting undressed" you replied in a solemn monotone like it was the most obvious thing in the world but he shook his head, his gaze intense "why? "

"Isn't that what you're here for?"

Your genuinely confused question hit sunghoon like a slap across the face. He knew that he had been treating you like shit but why were you treating yourself like this? It made him want to puke. He shook his head again and willed his heart to calm down "I'm not here to have sex with you"

His words sounded like static to you. Oh. He was here to break things off with you, because of course he was. Did you really think he was going to come back to you for sex after what you had done when he could have any girl he wanted for the night? You really were delusional. You bit your lower lip to stop it from wobbling when you felt tears gathering at your waterline. So this was it then? You really had driven another person you loved away from you successfully.

"I-im sorry, j-just don't hate me please" you spoke through gritted teeth, blinking rapidly to avoid crying in front of him again. If he couldn't love you, you wanted to make sure he didn't leave hating you. You honestly wouldn't be able to live with yourself if he did.

Sunghoon watched your cowering form inching away from him and he was overcome with an intense urge to wrap you in his arms and keep you close. You looked so scared and small standing there, asking him to not hate you. Silly little girl, he thought. How could he ever hate you?

He rubbed a shaky hand over his face to choose his next words carefully but you interpreted his actions the wrong way. Your throat constricted and you fisted the hem of your top tightly. The feeling of desperation was beginning to overpower your rational thoughts, what were you going to do if he left? Your feet moved before you could stop yourself and your shaky fingers were tugging on his shirt softly. When his dark eyes met yours, you couldn't stop the tears from pouring down your cheeks. "G-give me one chance, I won't ruin it this time" you hiccuped through your sobs. "Y/n- " please sunghoon i-i'll be so good and s- so quiet, just u-use m-your words were cut of by a sobbed gasp escaping your lips when sunghoon pinned you against the wall behind you forcefully, his body pressed firmly against yours. You stared up at him with wide teary eyes and he looked angry, the vein on his forehead throbbing visibly. "Stop that" He spoke sternly through gritted teeth and cupped your face in his palms, resting his forehead against yours. "Stop treating yourself like a fucking object y/n, this isn't you" His lips captured yours before you could react and the softness of the kiss caught you off gaurd. You didn't remember the last time you had been kissed with so much tenderness and you couldn't help but sob into his mouth, your hands fisting his shirt desperately. Sunghoon didn't stop kissing you. More like, he couldn't stop kissing you. Hoping that he could convey with his kiss, all the words that he couldn't say. His hold on your face was soft and you couldn't help but press yourself closer to his body, seeking warmth, looking for comfort. He pulled away briefly, his forehead still pressed against yours and he stared right into your soul. His thumbs reached up to wipe your tears and you hiccuped through your sniffles. "would you believe me if I said that I'm here to stay baby?" He asked softly. The sweet nickname was something he'd only called you in throes of passion sometimes, so the fact that he was consciously speaking to you with so much affection made your heart hurt. Hope fluttered like butterflies in your stomach and you searched his face. You wanted to believe him, you wanted to get lost in his affection even if he was lying, so exhausted from your emotional turmoil. Your eyes flooded with tears and you sobbed a pathetic "no" while you shook your head. Sunghoon closed his eyes and rubbed his nose against yours, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs. "will you give me a chance to prove it to you?" He asked, his hot breath warming up your mouth. You bit your lower lip and buried your face into his chest, unable to stop yourself from crying your heart out. This felt like a fever dream and you wanted to stay in it a little longer. You wanted to feel his arms around you, holding you closer in a way only you had ever done to yourself. He wrapped your body in his embrace and sighed in relief, he couldn't comprehend how he'd gone so long without the feeling of you in his arms. "please baby, you're like air to me and i know that i have hurt you and i won't ask you to forgive me but these past few days have been hell and i don't think I can survive something like that again" He whispered his truth and it felt like a heavy weight had been lifted off of his chest.

He hated that he was always so afraid of his own feelings, hated that you were turning him into this emotional person that he was not. His words made you tighten your hold around his shoulders and you peeked up slightly to stare into his eyes. His eyes that were staring at you with so much adoration that you couldn't help the blush spreading across your cheeks.

He pecked your nose "let me inside your heart baby, I want to know what hurts you and makes you bleed, I want to swallow your pain if it's the last thing I do"

Your breathing had evened out from hearing him speak and you were suddenly coming to the realisation that he was asking you to give him a chance at loving you. Sunghoon wanted to love you. Your heart was beating rapidly across your chest at the possibility of your feelings being reciprocated and yet at the back of your mind, you couldn't help but question. Were you ready to let him in like that? would you be able to take it if he left you stranded again? You didn't know. But what you did know was that you were tired of running away.

"Okay" you whispered and his lips were immediately on yours, kissing you like his life depended on it, in a way it did. "Okay" He whispered back into your mouth and swallowed your whines, pressing you closer to himself, tasting you like he'd never given himself the liberty to.

There were so many things you wanted to ask him and so many feelings he wanted to express. But for now, okay was enough.

[lagomoz]

Proseka headcanons

-as rui’s childhood friend, nene has extensive fire safety knowledge

-shizuku is adopted, hence why she looks so different from shiho. she was adopted shortly before the moon rabbit event and it contributed to her clinginess

-shiho forgets this fact sometimes. she’ll casually mention something like shizuku got all mom’s good genes so unfair and ichika has to be. um. shiho

-kanade is mildly nearsighted/myopic but spends so much time at her computer she hasn’t noticed

-emu is buff. she climbs multiple stories without breaking a sweat and is canonically part of the swimming, handball and rhythmic gymnastic clubs, you can’t tell me she doesn’t have some muscle

-saki helps out as a human notepad for tsukasa, reminding of him things he would otherwise forget within 5 minutes

-the vocaloids also help. at first it was unnerving to have hatsune miku be an extension of his psyche that knows his darkest secret (stole saki’s candy when he was 6) but now his phone has a more reliable catgirl themed reminder system

-you know that classic nightmare of leaving the house without pants? tsukasa has legitimately done that as a kid. he forgor. (saki will never let him live it down)

-in the kamiyama student council/hall monitor room, an has put up at sign saying “_ days since last kamishiro incident”

-the shinonome siblings both figured out the other one was gay before they figured it out about themselves

-airi’s great at trivia from her time as a variety show star. she still can’t beat minori at idol trivia, though

-ena keeps a diary with fort knox level security. try to read it and you’ll lose a finger

-saki learned to crochet from the old ladies in the hospital

-shiho’s most treasured phenny is a somewhat lumpy crocheted phenny holding a very lumpy crocheted bass guitar

-tsukasa snores. he falls asleep in 10 seconds and sounds like a dying lawnmower

-mizuki has learned a small bit of french from their sister and uses it exclusively to teach rui and an how to swear in french

-emu still celebrates her grandfather’s birthday, even if he’s not there to celebrate with her

-ena is allergic to dogs, the middle point to airi’s cat allergy and akito’s dog phobia

-rui has various small scars from his experiments over the years, but nobody ever believes the real causes (rocket launcher, robot bite, exploding balloon animal, etc.) so he just makes up a new cause every time someone asks

-mmj! has had repeated incidents of minori and airi’s little siblings walking into frame when streaming at their houses. shiho understands the concept of a livestream but has still been caught failing at creeping past like that one new broadcast of the guy crawling along the floor

-kanade has pots & eds, this one I have a reason for look at her symptoms. chronic exhaustion, heat and cold intolerance, comorbid sleep issues and depression, dizziness when standing up, fainting after standing up, very pale skin, family history of medical issues, pain at normal physical activities, exercise intolerance, vertigo at mild exertion, she just fucking dies during the entire baseball event, I could go on. she canonically gets pain in her hands from opening a jar girl that is not just being out of shape that is physical disability. this one I will go conspiracy board on listen to me I’m right

-kohane ate bugs as a kid. an is horrified, toya is confused, akito is impressed

-ena and airi got in trouble in middle school because they’d keep starting fist fights in defense of the others honor. if they saw the other in a fight they’d jump in guns blazing no hesitation no questions ask ready to throw the fuck down

-vbs!rin and len were given a skateboard by an and then promptly had the skateboard confiscated by meiko for property destruction

-haruka is horrible with slang. she asks the stream chat what poggers means and immediately uses it completely wrong, killing all viewers on impact

-minori is torn between thinking it’s cute and wanting to die

-toya has been banned from arcades before because he made them lose too much money/they suspected he was cheating

-ena brought kanade over for girls night and nearly scared akito half to death because he went down to get a late night snack and there was some Ghastly Creature looming in his kitchen

-kohane's parents stick out like a sore thumb when going to her live shows. it mortifies her that everyone on vivid street can recognize them as the only milquetoast middle aged couple dressed in normal clothes loudly going YOU'RE DOING GREAT SWEETIE that don't know the first thing about music

-minori knows basic programming. she mostly uses it for forums, blogs, html, other web design things usually related to idols as a hobby, but she's become the groups designated anti-shizuku tech support

-mafuyu has always been able to see ghosts but after adults figured she was just playing pretend as a kid so she shrugged and figured it was normal and not worth bringing up again

-honami has one of those massive extended families and somehow keeps track of them all. at any given time cousin #57 can crawl out of the woodwork and she remembers their new job, favorite food, past three romantic relationships and list of allergic reactions

-mizuki does doll customizing as a hobby. they prefer making human sized clothes, but it's fun to make them miniature too. they've introduced shizuku to it and she loves it, but doesn't have the heart to do anything that would hurt the doll (sawing limbs off, dunking them in boiling water, shoving wires in them, etc.)

[bumblesimagines]

Imagine:

Getting the attention of Tashi and Art

Request: Yes or No

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

Happy pride month!! Let's see if the wifi will let me post this. More Art than Tashi cause I'm a sucker for pathetic blondes.

~~~

His eyes tracked the ball back and forth, left to right, taking in the swings from both players. (Y/N) swung his racket, sending the ball back over the net. Art's eyes lingered on his face, taking in the knitted brow, serious look on his face. Sweat trickled down his forehead and temple from the heat and exertion, though he hardly had to try against Tashi. The ball flew by her before she could even get close to hitting it, her leg wobbling and threatening to give out from under her.

Art's throat tightened. "Tashi-"

"I'm fine!" She snapped, her knuckles whitening from her grip on the racket. Tashi's chest and shoulders lifted and lowered with her heavy pants, sweat similarly covering her features. She looked tense. Angry. Distraught. Tashi cursed under her breath and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand as she snatched her water from the ground and drank. Art turned back to the other player when he did similarly, taking his bottle from the bench and drinking before patting his neck and face dry a rag. 

"Hey," Art walked toward him, glancing over his shoulder at the girl. "She's still injured, man. Could you go easy on her?"

"She asked to play." (Y/N) reminded him gruffly, tossing the rag over his bag and arching a brow at him. Art swallowed thickly, eyes instinctively averting elsewhere. He hardly ever spoke with (Y/N). He'd been given enough warning to steer clear by his classmates but Tashi seemed determined to at least win one round. 

"I can't play against someone too scared to hurt me to play right." Tashi had told him when they arrived at the court that early afternoon. Art's gaze immediately snapped over to him. It always did. He couldn't help it. (Y/N) was as captivating and terrifying as Tashi. Quick, cutthroat, and with a glare that could stop hearts. Art remembered the first time he'd been held under that glare. He'd felt himself physically shrink back into a nonexistent shell like a damn turtle. "At least he'll take me seriously."

"If she hurts herself again-"

"That's her problem, sweetheart." Art inhaled deeply, nostrils flaring slightly as his words jabbed right into his lower stomach, a satisfying heat shooting up his spine. (Y/N) stared right at him, straight through him really, and the mixture of irritation, mockery, and apathy made Art look back at him with a glare. He cared about Tashi, so much so he'd been willing to wedge himself between her and Patrick. Patrick lost her and now, Art had a chance with the girl he'd been enthralled with.

"You don't always have to be a dick, you know?" Art meant to sneer, to sound assertive and angry, and he was. But holding eye contact with (Y/N) made his stomach twist, just like it had when he first laid eyes on Tashi and listened to her victory cheer. It was a breathtaking feeling, one that made his nerves jitter and his skin flush. 

A beat of silence followed and Art pressed his lips tightly together, waiting for some sort of reaction that'd land him a visit to the nurse. Instead, (Y/N) scoffed. "Get used to it, Donaldson. I won't baby you or your girlfriend just because you asked. If you have a problem-" (Y/N) leaned in, bumping the tips of their noses together and piercing into him with his eyes. "-cry about it."

"Hey," Tashi called out to them and Art's head snapped in her direction. She watched them, brow slightly arched and free hand bouncing a tennis ball until she had their full attention. "Come on. One more match." 

"No." (Y/N) exhaled heavily and leaned back, picking up his bag from the bench and stuffing the bottle inside. Art and Tashi looked back at him, questions forming on the tips of their tongue that (Y/N) dismissed with a simple roll of his neck and a few words. "You've bored me. I'll see you around."

Tashi blinked at him dumbfoundedly, the racket slipping from her grasp and legs moving to quickly walk after him as he made his way off the court. "The hell do you mean by that? I'm fine, I swear. I just need to train." She assured him, her long braid swinging back and forth with her rapid movements. The borderline desperation in her voice did little to slow him down and she grunted in annoyance, quickening her step into a brief jog to cut in front of him. "What is it? What did Art say to you?"

"Nothing, Duncan. He's worried about you, is all." (Y/N) shrugged. "Besides, another match like that and you would've hurt yourself. Cut your losses and move on."

"And how the hell am I supposed to do that?" Tashi sounded breathless, weak even. She hated it. She hated admitting she knew no matter how many doctors she visited, how many hours she trained to rebuild her strength and work on the court... she'd never go back to what it once was. Forced to retire before her career had even truly started all because of being too in her head during a match. "Tennis is all I know. I can't- I can't abandon it, not like this. Do you know how hard I've worked for this?" She can feel the tears pricking the back of her eyes, the fast beat of her heart, and trembling hands. It was overwhelming. It was infuriating. 

(Y/N) stared at her, his fingers holding onto the strap of his bag and rubbing into the rough fabric in thought. "I don't give a shit about anything you do, Tashi. You're not my friend, not my competition, or someone I even think about. But as a fellow player, I suggest becoming part of someone's team. Assistant coach, partner, whatever the hell you think suits you. But if you keep playing like this, you're going to fuck up your leg beyond repair. You always need a backup plan in sports."

Tashi crossed her arms and took a deep breath, tilting her head up toward the sky and nodding weakly. Her parents would support her regardless of what she chose to do but she knew, deep down she knew, that they'd always be disappointed she never reached her full potential. "Yeah," She exhaled softly. "Yeah, you're right."

"Always." She let out a breathy chuckle and rolled her eyes at his cocky tone, eyes trailing after him when he departed down the sidewalk in the direction of the locker rooms. He reminded her of Patrick, a better improved less annoying version at least. Or maybe he reminded her of herself. Tashi bit the inside of her cheek. The potential was far too great to ignore.

"Hey, you okay? How are you feeling?" Art's sweet voice filled her ears and she peered at him over her shoulder, spotting her belongings in his hand and that scrunched-up, worried look on his face. So dutiful, so warm. The perfect person to mend into whatever she wanted, whatever she needed. Her aching leg grounded her and she sighed. 

"I'm fine." She muttered. God, how many times had she uttered those words since the match? Everyone treated her like cracked glass ready to break at any given moment. She was stronger than that. Better than that. Why could nobody see that? "I'm... I'm gonna get some rest, Art. I'll see you tomorrow, 'kay?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course." Art nodded, his poofy curls bouncing off his forehead as he offered over her things and offered her a smile. "Want me to walk you back?" 

"No, it's alright." 

"Take care, Tashi." Art sighed quietly and watched her walk away, unable to stop himself from looking down at the brace wrapped tightly around her knee. Her limp had mostly disappeared, only noticeable if one looked for it, but he could tell Tashi wanted nothing more than to go back to how things were. If only she and Patrick hadn't argued that morning, if only he'd won the match and gotten her number instead. Did Patrick deserve it? Art tried not to be a sore loser or a shitty friend, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't a smidge glad to know he wouldn't be coming around anytime soon. 

Guilt crept in pretty quickly and he shoved his hands in his pocket, turning his sights on the locker rooms and heading toward them. He'd hardly played as much as the others, but his skin still felt sticky and dirty from the sweat he'd accumulated. Cool air greeted him when he stepped inside and he maneuvered his way around the halls and lockers, greeting familiar faces that exited with nods and smiles until he noticed the familiar figure stripping by one of the open lockers. Art averted his eyes at first and then slowly shifted them back to the tennis player. 

"Take a picture, Art," The blonde flinched, heat erupting in his neck and traveling rapidly throughout his body. (Y/N) peeled his shorts from his legs, head angled toward the younger guy, and lazy smirk only fueling Art's embarrassment. "It'll last longer." He tossed the shorts and boxers over his bag and stepped around the lockers, the familiar squeal of the shower handle turning echoing through the partially empty room. 

"I-" Art clamped his mouth shut and cleared his throat, bidding goodbye to the last of the guys in the locker room before he found his locker and began undressing. He retrieved a towel and placed it on one of the nearby sweats before stepping onto the cool tiled floor in the showers, sparing a glance at the player. "I wasn't... staring."

"You always stare." (Y/N) sighed, running a soapy hand over his shoulder and leaving a trail of foam behind that the cold droplets washed away. He tilted his head back, the water splashing against his chin and trickling down his throat. Art turned the handle, the cold water making him tense automatically but it soon gave way to relief when his warm skin cooled. He ran a hand through his curls, letting the water soak into them. 

"You don't mind, though." Art said quietly, finding a new surge of confidence. (Y/N)'s brow twitched, the corners of his lips curling and eyes fluttering open to look at him. He stared at him questioningly, prompting Art to clear his throat again. "You don't care about tennis but you still play because... because you like attention."

"Bold statement, Donaldson. Especially from you." (Y/N) laughed and stepped toward him, leaning in again and tilting his head, eyes finally bright with something other than indifference or irritation. Art's lips parted, soft breaths escaping him. Another step and they'd be close enough to kiss. "You'd do anything for Tashi's attention. Anything for my attention. And you'll never have either, not for as long as you want."

[gracie-rosee]

Empyrean Clothing

If I could borrow a minute of your time. I promise it’s worth it :)

I took it upon myself to put this together, since I really enjoy the detailed world Rebecca Yarros has laid out for us. Plus, as an artist it’s good to have solid references. And a lot of these are somewhat book accurate to the descriptions of some clothing and styles I can recall.

It bugs me when people see a fantasy world and immediately think: corsets, tight leather, sexy dresses, ball gowns, billowing capes, and eight million buckles. So here’s how I see the clothing in this series.

Let’s start with the War college and flight leathers:

I don’t think their uniform resembles any kind of prep school/academy uniform whatsoever. Their uniforms are quite literally flight uniforms. So, I take a lot of inspiration from real life flight jumpsuits you would see from pilots and astronauts. Simple enough for daily wearing to classes, yet durable and efficient for flight maneuvers and lessons. Leathers are worn on top of uniforms.

Have any of you ever tried to do a simple cartwheel in a waist-snatching leather corset with cutouts in all the weird places? I doubt there would be much range and ease of mobility. Leather is great for flying, but they’re also fighting, too.

Flying also requires high altitudes and extremely cold weather and wind. I imagine one would wear clothing to cover their neck and face while in flight, in addition to goggles. (Seriously, where did the goggles go in the fanart/fanfics I’m seeing?) Practicality over aesthetics.

Other necessities would be gloves. Being able to grip your dragon and wield weapons is a must.

For more casual, everyday clothing:

Lots of sweaters. Buttons rather than zippers. More casual, yet always always so practical in a way that you could jump into flight or channel a signet that requires physical exertion. Complete and total range of movement would be required. From what we’ve seen, it’s a cooler climate, not just during the winter, and everybody works. There was two instances I can recall where someone wore something other than pants and that was Violet’s skirt for Reunification Day and her dress later on in book 2.

Even Scribe robes are very practical and efficient:

And now for my favorite.

High ranking officials, nobles, and royalty:

I often think of Liam and Xaden’s family. High ranking officials, wealthy families, and powerful signet wielders would have more flaunting style. To show their signet, to show their wealth, status, or position. And yet, and YET! Still practical. You could jump onto the back of a dragon at any time. The extravagance would often lie in the details. Hand crafted embroidery, or Deverelli silk sashes. Almost no jewelry would be worn, but I think expression could be shown in extravagant hair colors and makeup styles.

Again, while I did reference the book for most of this, the rest is my interpretation of what I think fits the series the best. Thanks for coming to my TED Talk!

[hxney-lemcn]

🌹⚔️😳 with Sebek, please?

a/n: 🫡 here you go. had fun with this one.

tw: Sebek is a bit of a meany

wc: 0.5k

2k follower event | master list

Sebek was always such a pompous little jerk, rattling on about how he was the best retainer, taking his job way too seriously. It annoyed you, especially when he used you as an example of what was wrong in a retainer. Yeah, so maybe you didn’t follow Malleus into the bathroom to make sure there were no assassins, but you weren’t there to hold Malleus’ hand. Not to mention Malleus was one of the top five most powerful mages in all of Twisted Wonderland, did he even need you guys following him around?

The answer was a resounding no.

You could tell that Sebek was deeply insecure. Why else would someone go around shouting about how good they were? But that didn’t mean he could go around putting others down. That was a classic case of bullying, and you were at your wits end. If he called you lazy, uncaring or weak one more time-

“At least I’m not just sitting around,” Sebek huffed, to whom or what, you could care less. “At least I’m constantly trying to improve myself for the sake of Waka-sama unlike some people.” You watched, unamused as his glare crossed yours. Standing up, you stalked over to the half fae.

“I challenge you to a duel,” You declared, fully irritated and ready to put Sebek in his place. 

Yellow-green reptilian eyes widened for a split second before they went back to their determined stare, “I accept.”

That’s how you stood across from Sebek, dull training swords held in your hands. You had done this many times before, honestly, this was basically just another spar, but Sebek seemed to be taking this a bit too seriously. Wooden swords clashing, ducking and dodging, many near misses. You hated to admit that he had some skill, but you suppose he had to if he was guarding the prince of Briar Valley. But in the end, he was still a bit too sloppy for you, and you hit a weak point, effectively pinning him to the ground. 

Panting slightly at the physical exertion, a smug smile tugged at your lips, feeling your pride bloom. Gazes locked, the air around you both was intense, and you weren’t sure you wanted to explore the weird flip in your chest, or how your eyes slowly trailed down to his slightly parted lips. 

“Are we about to kiss right now?” It was a joke on your part, said to try and ease the tense feeling in your chest, but Sebek always took everything seriously.

“Are you serious?!” He shouted, cheeks a bright red and pupils dilated. “D-do you have any idea how such an action would look for Waka-sama?! O-or how that would distract us from our goal?!”

Rolling your eyes, you stood up, offering your hand out to the flustered fae, “You need to learn how to let loose.” 

A mistake on your part, as Sebek took your words the wrong way.

“H-HOW DARE YOU IMPLY SUCH ACTIONS!”

[unholyhelbig]

Obsessed obsessed obsessed with Firecrest 🥺

Title: Firecrest (Part 2/???)

Read Part One

Summary: Kate Bishop and y/n have an unspoken agreement that revolves around being enemies with benefits. But when Kate's new mentor is someone Y/n is very familiar with, things become complicated.

Warnings: Parental abandonment, horrible parenting, slight mentions of blood, reader has villain tendencies, and horrible grammar because I never proofread!

[A/n: I'm so glad you enjoyed it! I'm honestly really digging writing it. If this is something you guys would like me to keep going, I'll do my best. Just let me know!]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

A sting worked its way through your knuckles before dissolving into a dull ache at your wrist. Sweat had started at your hairline and the small of your back before soaking through the wicked fabric of your tank-top. You could feel your shoulders cramping up. But, you’d stopped crying an hour ago. You feared that if you stopped assaulting the punching bag, then the tears would spill over again.

Lance had told you to take it easy. Your ribs had been bruised after the situation you’d left the benefit for. While you were grateful, said distraction packed a punch and you’d taken a swift kick to the gut and the side of a fire escape digging painfully into your side. It took everything in you not to throw the low-level criminal onto the pavement below.

Instead, you’d cuffed him and left him there until morning, or until law enforcement showed up. You were projecting, you were sure. But if your mother looked at you with pity one more time, you would have shoved him to his certain death.

You’d gotten out of the house and came to the boxing gym. The owner had given you your own key and it gave you enough privacy. If you had any tears left, you’d be able to shed them freely. You clenched your eyes shut and threw a solid round of punches, a scream of anguish ripping through your throat.

Two more hits and the bag became stagnant. Not the same, rocking defense that you’d been punching. You were used to the rhythmic sway and your eyes sprung open at the change in density. You’d ripped a bag before, sand spilling onto the floor.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You shouted, taking a step back. Kate Bishop was on the other side of the bag, holding onto it with a concerned stare on her features. Her annoying perfect features, despite the late time of night. You panted. “Shit.”

“I called out, but you didn’t answer. I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m sorry.”

She released the bag and it swung back and fourth between you both. The chain that attached it to the ceiling squeaked in a rusted effort. Her stormy eyes flicked up nervously and then back to you. You knew that Kate used to come here with her father, her biological father, but you weren’t aware that she had the same key privileges as you.

You worked a hand through sweat-soaked hair and closed the distance to the side of the boxing ring. You used your teeth to pull open the plastic nib on your water bottle, soothed by the cool swallows. Kate watched you carefully. Her eyes roamed over your form, coated in sweat and toned from years of physical exertion.

You couldn’t stop your shoulders from trembling. Violent attempts from your body to assert it’s emotions. You could give in, and you could do so easily. But you would not. Not with Kate Bishop relinquishing her hold on the punching bag that you’d nearly turned to a pulp of sand and shredded upholstery. This wasn’t your dynamic. This wasn’t how things worked.

It was easy to take a lot of things that Kate was willing to give; a ride home from the gym, a doll that matched hers when the two of you were young, soft touches and harder thrusts. But one thing you refused to take was her pity. It leaked from her expression like a broken faucet and for some reason, that angered you.

“What are you doing here, Kate?”

“I came here to work off some extra energy. What are you doing here? I figured I wouldn’t see you for a few more months after you left the benefit early like that.”

“There was no reason for me to stick around.”

The answer fell from your lips in a deadened, emotionless tone. She clenched her jaw and then unclenched it, mulling her thoughts. There was an apprehension to her stance, even as she closed the distance between you both. She stopped just short of your fingers twitching to press against her hip, holding her in place. You lifted an unimpressed eyebrow.

Another swallow of now-warm water seemed to stop the uncertainty of your movements. You hoisted yourself onto the edge of the ring with a sigh, pressing your fingertips to your temples. Kate moved silently and leaned next to you. The quiet she offered was something you took, just like everything else.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Kate asked softly. You looked at her in confusion, lilting your head to the side. “You watched me fawn over Clint Barton for years. I had his posters in my room, and replica’s of his bows, and every news story ever written about him cut out and saved in a shoebox.”

“Because he’s important to you, Katie.”

“He’s your father.”

“He’s not.” You snapped. It was harsh. You forced yourself to relax, softening your voice. “He’s not. Lance is my father, and Clint Barton is far more important to you then he is to me.”

Kate swallowed thickly and hoisted herself up next to you. Her heat was overwhelming you with comfort. You didn’t have it in you to figure out what that meant, past your petty rivalry. She smelled of fresh detergent, of the winter air that clung to her so heavenly.

Her hand tentatively moved to your knee, and you didn’t stop her. You were still trembling and stilled at her closeness. “I’m not going to see him anymore.”

“Kate,” you chuckled sadly. “He’s your hero, and he trusts you enough to take over the Hawkeye name. You can’t throw that out because of his choices, and you certainly can’t throw that out because of me. We hate each other, remember?”

A look of sadness flickered momentarily against her features. The two of you had been in a constant head to head race to prove yourselves since you were young. Kate always came in first, and you had settled with second place; in school, in sports, in forced family outings. It used to end in toe to toe screaming matches.

But, the two of you were older now, and all that built up tension was easily released with stripped clothes and thrown around insults that did nothing but stir the excitement in your gut.

Being a hero was the only thing you were better at, than Katherine Elizabeth Bishop and you were sure that was about to change with Hawkeyes diligent teaching. Lance and Bobbi didn’t need the glory that came with being an Avenger- no, they kept the secret in the term secret agent.

“Right, of course.” She sounded out, nudged you with her shoulder. “But… you can still talk to me.”

You leveled her with an unimpressed stare. Despite her suave playboy attitude that infuriated you, Kate Bishop was not subtle when she wanted something. She chewed her bottom lip, both of her eyebrows raised in an adorable attempt to ease your nerves.

“Right, you’re right, sorry.” She moved to push herself off of the mat, but you wrapped your fingers around her wrist and gave it a tender squeeze. Kate froze in place before scooting back up, even closer this time. Her words reduced to a whisper, as if trying not to scare you off. “Okay.”

“Do you know what Terrigen crystals are?”

“We learned about them last semester, inhuman history. It’s a catalyst chemical that binds with red blood cells that are receptive to change.”

“Impressive.” You gave her a wolfish smile. “When I was growing up, my mom gave up her solo-agent status and conceded to joining a team, and one of their first missions together was to find, and retrieve these Terrigen crystals, the only ones in the entire world. They were meant to contain them, and nothing else, but things rarely go as planned.”

You were sure that Kate knew about the broken crystals that had leaked into the push and pull of the ocean. Fish naturally consumed the microscopic agent and soon, the Terrigen properties were distributed throughout the world commercially. Coulson had called it untamable. You remembered the fear in his eyes, and you had squirmed uncomfortably in the same Inhuman History class a year back.

“The day that things changed, my Aunt Daisy was in solitary confinement in the team’s underground bunker. My mom was busy running tests on her blood after she’d been exposed to the chemical agent. I knew how to stay out of the way, but happened to be in the lab with her when everything started to shake.”

“Shake?” Kate quirked a brow.

You nodded “The Terrigen crystal gave Daisy control of vibrational forces, but none of us knew that at the time. We just knew that something was wrong. The shaking startled everyone and my mom, she grabbed every Terrigen crystal but one.”  

If not for Jemma, if not for her quick reflexes and wrapping her arms around Bobbi, sending them both from the lab before activating the safety seal, then neither of them would have made it. Indigo mist rushed from the shattered crystal and you remember the acrid floral taste that coated your lungs. It suffocated you.

“The last thing I remember about that day is my mother sobbing. She had both of her hands pressed against the glass surrounding the lab. She wailed like I wasn’t coming back, like she had failed me.”

Kate whimpered your name “Y/n,”

A tear drop hit the collar of your shirt and wicked nicely with the drying sweat. You used the base of hand to delicately wipe the rest away and came to the startling realization that Kate Bishop was one of the only people who had ever seen you cry.

“Everything went dark, then. I remember this hot, prickling feeling and it was hard to move. And then there was nothing. I know now that it was some… some type of cocoon of dirt and stone, but it crumbled away easily when the Terrigen had taken it’s effect.”

“That must have been scary.”

“Terrifying,” You let out a watery chuckle. “But in the end, I was in the best place possible for something like that to happen. I was surrounded by people who cared about me, who loved me, and who could teach me how to control the fire that’s always just below the surface.”

You pulled one knee to your chest and leaned your cheek against it, keeping a steady eye on Kate. She was already watching you. Fingers toying with the small brass zipper of her sweatshirt. She looked beautiful in the dimmed lights, and being this close, stopping to talk to her, had given you an even view of her freckles.

“Clint was on a mission in the Baltic Sea with Natasha, or at least, that’s how my mom tells it. Point is, he wasn’t there and even when he did return he took one look at me in solitary confinement and packed a duffel bag. There were arguments, I’m sure, but I wasn’t privy to them.”

The last time you had seen your biological father was when he knelt down at the sealed doors of the lab. His hand was massive compared to yours, it looked unnatural and alien when he pressed it against the glass. There was a finality in his stare. He’d called you Sparky, and you’d giggled like it was the funniest thing in the world.

You could see the turmoil in her stormy gaze. There was the sense of betrayal there, and the quiet contemplation of someone who had just found out the reality of their hero.  Clint was her everything, her mentor, her teacher. He was the father figure she needed, and that was a clear line drawn in the sand.

Kate’s cold touch against your cheek, hot and tinted red from your earlier exertion, pulled you from your thoughts. Pity had replaced any semblance of anger she held onto. A whine moving involuntarily past your lips. You hadn’t realized how desperate you were for someone to touch you. For Kate to touch you.

Your relationship with the archer had never been any more than a succession of first and second place. A deadly dance that had culminated in open mouthed kisses and wandering fingers. This was one of the few times you’d had a serious conversation with her, a raw one that exposed wounds.

“I’ll do it,”

“Do what?”

You were hopelessly and pathetically lost. She smiled at that, an animalistic grin that often fell over her when she knew she was winning. You’d seen in countless times and couldn’t quite remember when it stopped annoying you and started turning you on.

“Pretend that we’re a couple,” She said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, dropping her hand and hopping off the edge of the ring. You missed her warmth, but it didn’t last for long. Kate was suddenly posted up between your legs, her arms draped over your shoulders. She was so close you could smell the mint on her breath. “To piss off Clint.”

Your hands naturally found her hips, not daring to squeeze them, “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“First of all, you didn’t ask. You saw the way Clint reacted to us sleeping together and your instincts to make him angry kicked in. Secondly, I already told him we’re dating. I have way too much talent for him to drop me as a protégé just because I’m banging his estranged daughter.”

“Wow, you have such a way with words, Kate. Really, I’m just fawning over you here.”

She rolled her eyes, but you couldn’t stifle the phantom of a smile on your face. No one had ever offered to do something like this for you before. Especially not someone this close to the playing field. People had called you a freak for most of your life, an inhuman disaster that had a hot temper.

The anger you could control. It was the intensity in which you loved that got you into the most trouble.

Footfalls echoed against the rain-soaked streets of the city. A deep burn resonated within your chest, sweat forming against your collarbone and dripping down the small of your back. You’d never seen the benefit to tactical suits in the summer. They kept heat in like no other and by the time the night was over, your entire body ached.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You’d lost one of the targets. It wasn’t something you’ve done in years, but your mind was admittedly somewhere else. You hadn’t gotten much sleep in the past week and it was showing in your sloppy work. Your mother had given you a worried look that only lasted half a second before you’d taken off.

The man you were pursuing was faster than you anticipated, but it wasn’t hard for you to catch up. You never understood why people ran into alleyways. They’d most likely lived in the city for their entire lives and knew that most of them ended in construction zones, or the end of a brownstone.

His chest heaved as he felt the wall behind him, turning and pressing his back against the wall. If he was desperate enough to run, you knew that he didn’t have a plan past this.

The tactical suit came with a few benefits that staved off the discomfort. While your mother preferred her staves, you had always leaned more towards a quarterstaff, a hot, reactive, type of metal that would glow a dangerous neon orange at just your touch.

It extended with a mechanical whir, your head tilting to the side. “Dude, really?”

“Look, I’ll never do it again!” His voice cracked like he was adolescent, but the beard that splattered the bottom half of his face betrayed the effects of his fear. “Just let me go, please.”

You closed the distance that lingered between you both, using the end of your staff to push up his chin. Your voice leaked with mock sympathy “Really? You promise?”

Half of his face was dripping with the blue dye from an exploding pack in a bundle of bills. His hands were coated entirely, the lapels of his shirt smeared from his lackluster attempt to wipe away the pigment. The man nodded vigorously.

“Oh, thank God, that’s a relief. I really thought I was going to have to take you in. The nearest station is eight blocks south and that would be a load of paperwork.”

“Yeah, yes, a lot of red tape” He shakily replied.

You slammed the quarterstaff into his gut. His breath left him, curling into himself as he fell to his knees. In the same moment, an arrow whizzed past you and lodged into his shoulder. His exhale of air turned into a scream of pain.

You groaned and pinched the bridge of your nose. The fletching was a dark purple, almost black under the light of the moon. Telling the difference between Clint’s arrows and Kate’s hadn’t become an issue until now. Knowing that he was in the same city as you made you feel ill.

“I had that!”

The staff retracted and you attached it back in place on your belt. So, what if you liked to play around with the perpetrators every once and awhile? You did good work, but there were long and deep lulls of footwork in the hero business.

Clint stood at the mouth of the alleyway. His stance was shadowed with the concise way he carried himself. You couldn’t tell if he was alone or not, but didn’t get the signature winter scent from Kate’s presence.

He strode up to the target, pulling the arrow from his shoulder with a gentle tug. He put it back into it’s quiver as if it wasn’t slick with blood. Clint cuffed him, dragged him into a sitting position by the arm. You watched his languid movements with a resentment you didn’t know you harbored.

“Yeah, it looked like you had it, Sparky.”

“I told you not to call me that.”

His blue eyes flicked down to your hands, watching for any signs of a dull glow. He didn’t’ find any. You balled your fists and clenched your jaw. You didn’t owe him anything. Tonight, he seemed to be approaching you with contempt, now that his initial shock had worn off.

Clint clearly didn’t’ know how to handle you, or the giant emotional elephant in the room. It was nearing midnight and there was a storm brewing, you could smell it. The last thing you wanted to do was stand by the dumpsters and discuss your feelings, so you started to walk away.

“Kid, wait. I’m approaching this all wrong. I’m sure you had it handled.” His words didn’t stop you, but he jogged to catch up and fell in step. You glared at him, shoved your suddenly cold hands into the pockets of your suit. “We need to talk about Kate.”

This stopped you in your tracks. He wanted to talk about Kate. All these years separated, living completely different lives and he wanted to talk about your fake girlfriend. “Okay. Yeah. Let’s talk about Kate.”

“You can’t continue to see her.”

You stopped, standing in front of him with your arms crossed. He had a few inches on you, but you carried his stance. One of the only things other than his stubbornness that you had inherited from him.

“I’m sorry?”

“Kate is persistent, I’m sure you know that. It took months of her poking and prodding for me to even agree to take her under my wing. She’s a good archer, but she’s reckless, thinks too much with her heart and not her brain. She can’t afford to have distractions right now.”

A brick dropped in the pit of your stomach. The flames seemed to lick viciously at your pulse points. But, you swallowed it back and let out a sad laugh. “You don’t think I’m good enough for her.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Didn’t have to, you did all the talking when you walked out on me at eight years old. Then you come waltzing back after years of building the family you wanted. The family that wasn’t filled with freaks.”

“Y/n, I don’t-“

“Because that’s all we ever were for you.” You growled at him. “the accident was just the excuse you needed to leave, and you’ve spent your time trying to make up for it by parenting every single stray that shows up on your doorstep expect for me.”

He was rendered silent, something that Clint rarely was. He opened his mouth and closed it again, a few times as if he was a fish out of water. You were breathing heavy, the words stinging your throat. You’d been harboring that for years, burying it deep inside. He’d tripped the metaphorical wire.

When he did find his voice, it was cracked and morose. “Okay. You’re right, you’re right.”

“I’m… right?”

He nodded sadly “I haven’t been fair to you, or your mother. I was a different person back then. I just don’t want Kate to get hurt, and I don’t want to hurt you more than I already have.”

A step back from him seemed to clear your mind. For a moment, you wanted to crash into his safe embrace, to breathe in the scent of his aftershave. He was your father, your biological father, and despite it all, you were drawn to his kindness.

You swallowed back the lump in your throat, mouth tasting of metal and bile. “You’re afraid of me, Hawkeye. You always have been.”

“That���s not true” He said it weakly.

“It is. You wouldn’t have run the moment I became different if you weren’t.” another step back and he didn’t’ dare to follow you. You vowed not to cry in front of him, or about him. Not now, and not ever, but you couldn’t stop the tears from streaking your cheeks. “You don’t have to worry about Kate Bishop. She can take care of herself. And so can I.”

[lightseoul]

cw. gn!reader, flighty!reader, reader works in forensics, prohero!katsuki, aged up (around mid 20s)

a/n. this was fun to write lmao. this is definitely not self-indulgent :0 again, would surely appreciate reblogs and comments <3

You’re a runner.

And no, not in the dystopian, getting-out-of-a-manmade-maze sense.

You run from feelings.

And that happens to include the kind when someone gets a little bit too close for comfort.

But you also do run in the literal sense.

In fact, you just did.

Panting, you round the next corner of your office building’s hallway, what was once a sprint (at least, the type that was possible in a crowded skyscraper in Tokyō) now faltering into a light jog.

Huffing, you chance a peek behind your shoulder, a sigh wracking your body when you conclude that the man of the hour is finally out of sight.

“What’s up with you?”

The man’s red-headed best friend quirks an amused eyebrow at you when you halt at the sound, startled.

He slows down in his steps as he appraises the mess that you currently are; from the looks of it, he’s heading in the direction you’re desperately trying to run away from, and for a split second, you’re half your mind to drag him with you to the elevator and vanish before the man could spot the both of you.

Why the fuck are you acting like this?

“I—Was just wanting to—” At this point, you’re severely out of breath. And you’d chalk it up to the physical exertion you definitely aren’t used to, but you know it’s more than that.

The warmth of your cheeks seems to suggest that, too.

“Hold up.”

You look up at Kirishima, one hand still on your hip to help keep you upright despite the exhaustion.

He tilts his head. “Aren’t you supposed to be in a meeting with Bakubro?”

Even just the mention of his name triggers your fight-or-flight response.

It also happens to send a flood of longing right through you.

“Yeah,” you rasp, before checking over your shoulder again. Coast: still clear.

“What are you—” Kirishima starts, eyebrows pinched in confusion, before what looks like realization and amusement flash across his features.

“Did he—”

“Yeah,” you cut him off before he could say it.

Apparently, being confessed to out of the blue by the man you’ve been in love with for a year cuts your sentence-formation capabilities to not more than one worded ones at a time.

Just as you expected, worry dances its way across Kirishima’s face.

“Are you running away from him?”

You choke on your spit.

“Hey, easy, Y/N,” Kirishima says while awkwardly rubbing your back as you cough your lungs out.

You stand upright when you finally gather your bearings, ready to explain, or attempt to explain to Kirishima (but more to yourself) why you just fled the meeting room where you and Bakugou were discussing the forensics of his new case.

It’s not like you didn’t see it coming.

The feelings, not the outright confession.

Midoriya, Kirishima, and his other friends have made it pretty obvious with their background teasing that the emotionally constipated blonde has taken a particular interest in you.

(Background because the aforementioned blonde would indubitably kill them if he found out they were teasing you, let alone about him.)

You just couldn’t bring yourself to believe it and hell—start to hope—until a while ago, when the Bakugou Katsuki himself slammed his fist on the table, spitting out the three words you’ve been dreaming to hear from him since you first worked on that gory ass mission together.

Well, four. If you count the curse slotted among the ‘I like you’.

But as it turns out, the reality of it all—Bakugou’s vulnerability, mutual feelings, and possibly dating a Pro Hero—scared you.

And so you ran.

And you were about to confess all this to poor Kirishima when a booming voice echoes through the hallway, effectively triggering your (definitely) flight response once more.

At that, you bolt to the elevators, leaving behind a speechless Kirishima.

Luckily for you, Bakugou has always been good at chasing what he wants.

[f9clementine]

prev ⋙ masterlist ⋙ next

enchanted to meet you ⋙ 16. two christmases

⋙ written part included 『••✎••』

The phone only rang twice before he picked up, "What's going on?"

You glanced behind you at the empty dark street, biting at your bottom lip. The hair on your neck was standing up and you couldn't fight the feeling that there was eyes on you. "I... I dunno, it feels like someone might be following me?" You whisper. "I'm probably still jumpy from last night, though."

"Where are you?" Minho asked immediately.

"I just got off the bus and passed the convenience store."

"Okay, stay on the phone with me. I'm heading to meet you right now." You could hear rustling on the other end followed by the sound of a door opening then closing. "Talk loudly so whoever it is knows you're on the phone."

"Okay," You meant for it to come out loud but your voice faltered and you winced. You took a deep breath, cleared your throat, and tried again. "Okay!" You chirped loudly this time.

"Perfect, just like that. What happened at work today?"

You started to talk loudly, almost obnoxiously, about the different animals you had seen come into the veterinarian office that day, listening to Minho make little sounds of acknowledgement through the phone. You kept wanting to turn your head and look behind you, but made yourself stare straight ahead as you walked.

"... Oh, and then I got to talk to the clinic's owner today about coming back and possibly doing my residency with them once I get my veterinary degree and my license."

"But that won't be for a couple of more years, right?" Minho asked.

"Probably about five. Veterinary school will take about four of those though. But I still have to graduate college-" You stopped, finally turning to look behind you as your steps faltered.

"Y/n?" Minho prompted and you could hear his already running footsteps picking up speed.

"I-I'm here. I just... Are you close?" You whispered, "Because I swear, I just saw something moving out of the corner of my eye."

"Don't stop walking. Keep heading towards me. I should be there in a minute." Minho panted and you nodded, turning to walk forward again. "Hey, take your keys and put them in between your fingers."

"What, like Wolverine?" You asked, incredulous but still did as he said, placing them in your palm before closing your fist around them, protruding between your fingers.

"Exactly like Wolverine. If you need to throw a punch, it won't feel nice for you, but it'll hurt like hell for the other person."

"I only got the two keys, so I'm a pretty shitty superhero though." You remarked.

"Two is enough to take out an eye," Minho said dryly and you physically recoiled at the idea.

"I-I don't think I could do that then!" You whined, stomach rolling at the idea. "Oh my god, I hate the idea of that so much."

"Better their eye than yours, Y/n. Hey, I'm about to turn the corner, ar-"

Minho was cut off as you yelped, almost running into him as you were turning the corner yourself. You jumped back, feeling your heart running a mile a minute. "Minho!" You gasped, the surprise quickly turning into relief at seeing him.

Under the streetlight, you could see his cheeks were red from exertion, his hair mussed and pushed back from his forehead. His normally calm eyes were wide, looking over you as he fought to catch his breath. "Are you o-"

You cut him off, stepping back up to him and wrapping your arms around him. Your hands were shaking as you grabbed fistfuls of his jacket, placing your head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, I just- I was so scared." You whispered.

Minho froze for a second, his own arms hovering above you. Slowly, he wrapped them around you and pulled you tighter towards him. "It's okay. I got you." He murmured and you could feel him resting his cheek on the top of your head. "It's okay now."

You nodded and took a deep, shuddering breath. You could feel all the stress of the last few minutes melting away. "Thank you."

"Of course. Whatever you need, Y/n." He replied quietly. "We should get you home, though."

You nodded again, but held onto him for a heartbeat more before pulling away. "Yes, please, I'd really like to go home."

"Here, give me your bag." Minho slid it off your shoulders and onto his before grabbing your hand, starting to tug you along. You felt your face suddenly burn, your cheeks on fire, hyperaware of how his hand felt so warm around yours. You couldn't help though but grip his back in return. "Jeez, what's in this bag? It weighs a ton."

"Textbooks. I was doing homework in between patients tonight." You dazedly replied, fighting to focus.

"You could do some serious damage with these, but we're gonna get you some sort of self defense keychain or something." Minho shot over his shoulder and you were thankful for the dark hiding your raging blush.

"But that sounds so... violent." You shot back, brows furrowing as you thought about it.

"You have to be able to defend yourself." Minho calmly replied, "I'd rather have you unharmed than some creep's eyeball, Y/n."

You whined loudly and shook your head, hating the mental image. "Ugh, I hate that so much though."

Minho was quiet for a few moments, adjusting your bag on his shoulder as he stared ahead. "From now on, I'll come get you from the bus stop. Call me when you're close and I'll walk you home. But we're still gonna get you one of those keychains shaped like a cat. Just in case."

You felt your heart flutter and you suddenly couldn't look at Minho anymore, instead casting your eyes to the side. "That sounds... good." You replied weakly and were grateful when Minho didn't say anything further.

He led you the rest of the way back to your apartment, keeping hold on your hand even as he pulled you to your door. He held his free hand out for your key and you handed it to him, watching as he began to unlock your front door.

"Now that we're home, and you've calmed down, I want you to tell me what happened. Did you see someone-" Minho opened the door and stopped suddenly, one foot in the threshold.

"Minho?" You asked worriedly, closing the distance between you two to peer into the apartment over his shoulder. "What is-"

Changbin leaned against the kitchen counter, his arms were crossed over his chest as the emergency key you had given him hung from his belt loop. "Hey, Y/n. How was work?" He asked.

prev ⋙ masterlist ⋙ next

Tag list: @mal-lunar-28, @kpopsstuffs, @cassidymb121, @brooklynie, @owotalks, @honey-pop, @hanniemylovelyquokka, @chlodavids, @abbiestearsricochet, @maexc, @seungmyynie, @brinnalaine, @kalopsian-thoughts, @jiisungllvr, @asherthehimbo, @pinxeajin, @vampcharxter, @jluvselandabs, @bettybeako, @borahae-reads, @raehawthorne, @yongbbokkie, @skzhoes, @lauraliisa, @meloncremesoda, @cutiespaghetti, @beaann

*red means I can't tag you D:*

[attollogame]

hi! i went to look for physical descriptions of the ROs but the link isn’t working. is there an alternative link?

No but I can help you here!

Pariah

Pariah is 5’5” with an athletic build to their body, mostly honed from all of the physical exertion their night job requires. Most often they wear riding gear (leather jacket, cargo pants, biker boots; basically attire appropriate for someone who rides high-speeds on a motorcycle) with a black motorcycle helmet that has red lights within it. The helmet is modified to allow Pariah to discern things at night, and also to withstand Pariah’s own powered abilities. Pariah also carries two sickles strapped at their waist. Their powered ability is shadow manipulation.

Without the helmet, they have short cut curly brown hair, tanned skin, brown eyes, and a scar on their chin. Here’s an excellent visual of them drawn by the talented @phanosis !

Vasilisa

Vasilisa stands at about 5’11” with another athletic build to her body, again honed by her career as a detective for the C.A.P.D. She usually wears a white dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves, black jeans, timberland boots (closest I can describe them) and on occasion will have a black blazer on. Very often seen with a coffee in hand because her sleep schedule is as atrocious as anyone’s in Attollo. Her powered ability is emotion manipulation. 

Vasilisa has blonde hair she keeps tied back, pale skin, and blue eyes. She has a beauty spot under her one eye. Here’s an excellent visual of her drawn by the talented @exotic-inquiry !

Suha

Suha stands at 5’8” with a softer build. Her employment as a judge for the Crowes Court and her role in her own fashion business often keeps her quite preoccupied and on the go. Suha is a Muslim, and therefore wears a hijab. Her role in fashion means she dresses incredibly well, often preferring higher-brand clothes lines that are both comfortable and befitting of her personality. She prefers lighter colored clothes, as it contrasts the gloom of Attollo, even though her personality itself is quite serious. Suha’s powered ability is botakinesis, or plant manipulation. 

Suha wears cat-eyed glasses and has dark skin and brown eyes. Here’s a stunning drawing of her done by the talented @artsyaprilmr !

Operator

Operator stands at 5’7” and has a very lean build coming from his amazing ability to forget to eat half the time. He’s rarely seen without his black face mask and blue tech glasses, which enable him to see the ongoing of the city even when mobile. He usually wears a black turtleneck and black jeans, as well as sneakers that should really be changed in at some point. He does wear gloves as well when outside of his dwelling in the Under City. Operator’s powered ability is tech manipulation… among other things.

He has auburn curly hair and blue eyes beneath the glasses, as well as pale skin. @exotic-inquiry also did some lovely art of him (he is a little guy) !

Sysba

Because Sysba is gender selectable, their appearance does tend to change depending on which you select, although not by much. Overall, though, Sysba is a very flamboyant being that dresses in a way they feel expresses themself best. They stand at 6’ all forms, with a toned form they somehow managed to retain despite their disastrous eating habits. They prefer colours like red, black, or white for what they wear, and they prefer fabrics like satin, velvet, or silk. Sysba often wears heels for the benefit of standing an extra few inches above everyone else. They also indulge with a lot of jewellery, including necklaces, earrings, nose rings, etc. Because they are an entity, their powers extend far beyond what most do; shape shifting, manipulation, and power absorption are a few of their abilities. If they could get out of Attollo, they would be travelling quite swiftly too. 

In all forms, their hair is black, their eyes are black, and their skin is a very sickly pale color. In male form, Sysba has short cut hair, in female form it comes in the form of a bob cut, and in the non binary form it’s short cut as well. The very talented @retconomics has art of them here, @phanosis was generous enough to draw them in their more ‘natural’ form, and @redjack even kindly made a 3d model!

DW

Standing at 6’4” with a more built tone, one could say, due to his line of work (you don’t run a criminal organization without some intimidation on the side). Dreamwalker dresses very business-like in all aspects of his arrival, including in the dreams (although he did play dress up for those because it was fun for him). He prefers dark dress shirts, dress pants, and well-polished dress shoes. He wears a signet ring on his right hand. His powered ability includes dream manipulation and an ability to directly harm a sleeping individual through their dream, as seen with MC. He usually warps his features in dreams to make him indiscernible. On occasion, he wears a red scarf when not wearing a high collared shirt. 

Dreamwalker has dark brown, almost black hair with a slight curl to it. His eyes are a glowing gold with no discernible pupil unless you’re very close, in which case you will see it as a darker yellow color. He has a notable scar on his neck from a knife wound, and dark skin. The talented @bleruh drew art of him here (check out their operator as well!), as did @retconomics here and @/kill-a13 here among many others :)

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Living Weapon Whumpee part 33

Warnings: forced living weapon/fighter, ambushed, a traitor in the midst, on the run

They could only hope to make it back to their horses and retreat to where Flint's army would be waiting before they were caught.

Once they were far enough away, Whumpee had Max detonate the explosives, and the ground beneath them shook and shuddered violently as Leader's base collapsed. But they still had their current pursuers to worry about as they fled, needing to reach Flint to give the signal for them to move in.

But... Max was starting to fall behind, and Whumpee stopped short, waiting for him to catch up and frowning in confusion.

"Sorry... You're just... really fast..." Max panted apologetically as he stumbled forward.

Whumpee's eyes widened in alarm. "Are you... limping?" He asked in sudden realization, noticing the man's lurching gait. Max's face was a tad pale as he glanced sheepishly down to where blood was streaming from his left leg.

"I, uh, think I might have caught a bullet during the ambush..." He muttered quietly.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

Max shrugged slightly, sweat glistening on his forehead. "I didn't think it was that bad... and I didn't want to slow us down..."

Whumpee let out a sharp breath. "Do you think you can make it the rest of the way back?"

"I can try," Max said resolutely.

Whumpee had no doubt that if he were on his own, he could escape and survive this. It's what he was trained for; fight or flee. But usually fight. And he had the physical endurance to cover great distances in a short period of time, despite carrying Jake on his shoulder.

But this time... he was watching out for someone other than himself, and that was a dangerous game to play. It meant his attention would be divided between himself and the other person, in this case Max, who was having a progressively harder time keeping up the longer they traveled, the occasional tripping turning into regular unbalanced stumbling that had him worried.

Max didn't complain once, just kept determinedly limping and staggering after Whumpee as fast as he could manage, chest heaving from the exertion.

But eventually Whumpee stopped with a long exhale, turning to face the injured soldier. "You're not looking too good," he noted grimly.

"I-It's fine," Max quickly blurted. "I can make it. Don't... Please don't leave me behind..." He glanced anxiously the way they'd come, toward where the enemy was closing in in the distance.

Oh. So that's why Max was trying so hard to hide the pain and keep up. He was terrified that Whumpee would leave him to be torn apart by Leader's soldiers, suffer a violent and painful death like Flint's recon team had.

"No. You can't make it," Whumpee said grimly, eyeing the bullet wound on his leg. "Not at this speed. You're straining yourself too much, and if you keep going you'll likely collapse. And that won't help anyone."

"But if we go any slower they'll catch up," Max whispered, voice hitching.

Whumpee was silent. There was more than just his own life at stake here, he reminded himself. He was Weapon, and Max was an ordinary soldier. How could he have expected the man to keep up?! Of course Max wouldn't be able to!

He growled angrily at himself for not paying closer attention, but regretted it when Max visibly flinched.

"I-I'm sorry, Sir," Max croaked hoarsely.

Whumpee sighed, before an idea hit him. One he wasn't particularly looking forward to implementing, but what other choice did he have? Max was injured, Jake was unconscious, and the enemy was closing in fast.

"Come here," Whumpee sighed, and guided Max over to sit in the middle of a dense cluster of bushes, hidden from sight. Then he leaned over and carefully slid Jake off his shoulder, handing him off to Max.

"Are you... leaving us here?" Max asked quietly, eyes wide.

"No," Whumpee reassured. "I'm going to take care of the problem. Stay here, stay quiet, close your eyes and cover your ears, all right? Don't move until I get back."

Max nodded, trembling, and Whumpee left him and Jake in the safe cover of the brush out of sight, turning and heading straight toward where the enemy was approaching.

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @i-don't-know-sal @togzy

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222 @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @cepheusgalaxy

@dragongodryss

[amiserableseriesofevents]

Courage, to make's love known

Read on AO3

Thank you so much @alienoresimagines for your extremely inspiring ask ♥️

“Be not afraid of greatness: some are born great, some achieve greatness and some have greatness thrust upon them’’

- W. Shakespeare, Twelfth Night

John wakes slowly, rubbing his face on the pillow and blinking a few times, blearily taking in his surroundings before remembering where he is; in the New York apartment where he's going to spend the next six weeks of shows. An apartment paid for him by the company, if he may brag — and oh how much he likes being spoiled for doing exactly what he loves.

A pleasant ache echoes through his body, one of physical exertion in order to perfect his craft, and he stretches, shifting on the mattress until his bones and muscles start singing their soreness. Then he rolls on the side and partakes in his favorite morning activity: staring at his fiancé as he sleeps soundly right beside him.

His movements have not stirred Gale, who's still sleeping with half his face buried in the pillow, blonde hair sticking up in every direction like a messy halo and eyelashes so long and thick they brush against the soft skin of his cheekbones. He has one arm tucked under the pillow and the other one outstretched towards John, fingertips grazing his forearm. John cradles Gale's hand in his and places a soft kiss at the center of its palm, looking at him with a reverence that would surely make him blush if he was awake. He's not, though, and John doesn't find it in his heart to rouse him; they got back pretty late last night after the celebratory Opening Night dinner, and the past few days have been very stressful for both of them, John rehearsing for hours every day and Gale keeping him company in the theatre and going through his lines at the apartment — just like old times.

He's only managed to get a week off from school and today is his fifth day here; two more and he'll have to go back and John will be left alone in the apartment for six more weeks surviving only on video calls and good morning texts — and math puns, obviously.

John's tempted to roll him over in this obnoxiously large bed and wake him up in the best way possible, with hot kisses and a hand between his legs to get to the only thing better than Opening Night celebratory sex — that is The Morning After celebratory sex — but Gale really looks too soft and content to be disturbed. So, John resorts to his second favorite Morning After activity: searching the World Wide Web for opinions and reviews.

He shuffles out of bed, puts on a t-shirt and some pants and walks groggily to the kitchen. Despite living here for a little more than a month he's still not very familiar with the layout and organization of the apartment so it takes him a while to find the coffee maker and to open the right cabinet where Gale put the ground beans when he got there, but then he finally settles on a tall barstool with a steamy cup in hand — with almond milk because Gale got him hooked — and starts browsing.

He finds reviews from some of the major theatre magazines and he's relieved to read that the show was largely appreciated in all his aspects, from the direction to the set design and the costumes. Someone has even pointed out his performance as the highlight of the show, which has him giggle like a serious, professional actor shouldn't do; he can't help it, sometimes when someone tells him that he's good at what he does he still has to pinch himself to be sure that this isn't some years long dream.

When he's satisfied with the professional reviews he moves to the social medias to hear the feedback from the fans; TikToks, tweets, everyone seems to have enjoyed the show. There are even a few pictures he's taken with fans at the stage door, he finds them on Instagram and grins at the captions from his fan pages — he has fan pages, can you believe that?!

It's on Instagram that he finds the most interesting thing, an article that makes him spit out his coffee from its title only.

If you thought John Egan was hot, wait until you see his boyfriend!

Cold sweat gathers at the nape of his neck. The article comes from one of those damned gossip pages filled with paparazzi pics and fake news and that's probably what happened, he thinks trying to reassure himself, they must have taken some pics of him and Curt hugging outside the theatre. It can't be Gale because they're always very careful with their PDA, especially around shows when the paps are more likely out to get him. Yes, that must be it; they're gonna have a laugh about it and all will be fine, he thinks as he opens the link.

He's immediately greeted by a picture of him and Gale kissing outside a restaurant.

Fuck.

They haven't been careful enough, they didn't think the paps would follow them to the small, basically unknown restaurant they'd chosen for the celebration dinner and so they kissed on the sidewalk. Still, the picture is pretty blurry, Gale being barely more than a blond smudge of pixels, he could be anyone.

The relief lasts less than three seconds before he notices that it's the first of a series: there's another blurry kiss, then one or two of himself as he waves to someone inside the restaurant, and finally one of just Gale, clear enough to make out most of his features — his proud smile, the glint in his eyes, the mop of blond hair, the cut of his cheekbones.

Again, fuck.

John belatedly remembers the title of the article, about how hot his boyfriend is. Suddenly, all the worries about the article itself vanish replaced by a simmering anger: how dare people think they can judge Gale? He swears to god, if someone's written on the damn internet that Gale, his Gale, is ugly they're gonna have to deal with John's wrath.

He opens the comments, ready to be properly pissed. What he finds is... surprising.

Who's that??? Where was Egan keeping him???

Despite himself, John snorts. He thinks of Gale teaching algebra to high schoolers while John rehearses on a stage, of him cooking terrible dinners for John to comfort him when he gets home. Home, that's where he's keeping him.

How did Egan manage to bag a guy like that?? 🥵

He laughs less now, frowning, honestly offended by this gratuitous rudeness — Gale would find it amusing though, so he refrains to comment back.

Do they need a third? 😜

John huffs — as if. They've had enough troubles managing a relationship between just the two of them, they're definitely not the sharing type.

Does he like girls too? 🙄

No he definitely doesn't, thank you very much.

OMG HE'S SO HOT

John grins mischievously at this one; yes, his boyfriend is hot, John knows it. He's getting even hotter as he grows older — there's some grey in his blond hair, so pale it's barely noticeable for anyone but John, who doesn't miss a chance to remind him of it bragging about his luscious, still completely brown locks. He's oddly proud that some random Instagram user finds him hot too, he could print out the comment and put it on their fridge for the moments when Gale feels down.

Aw what a nice couple 🥹🥹

Butterflies rouse in John's stomach and he finds himself blushing slightly at this comment, smiling like when someone compliments his acting. They're the two most important things in his life after all, acting and Gale; he's glad someone can see how much in love they are just from some blurry pictures.

Egan needs to have him cast in something!! I need to see that pretty face more often

To this one, John laughs out loud. Yeah, he wants to comment, been there, done that. Unless that guy is interested in minor, local performances, he's not going to see Gale's face on stage any time soon.

He hears a sudden noise from the bedroom, sign that Gale's woken up; the worry comes back, a gnawing sensation in the pit of his stomach. He'll have to show Gale the pictures, that's for sure, but how is he going to react? He's probably gonna be pissed, as he should.

John is going to pressure to have the pictures removed if Gale asks, of course, but by now they've already been seen by hundreds if not thousands of people; this is surely going to freak him out, hugely. He's so private, even the news of their engagement has been kept a secret to everyone who's not close family — John still wears the ring every day just not on his finger, but on a chain around his neck. What if this sudden exposure to the public makes him reconsider it? He's always said he's ok with John being a more public figure than him, but maybe...

No, John thinks shaking his head. He won't go there. They're not who they were at the beginning of their relationship anymore, they've grown together past the part where a single doubt could destroy everything. They're going to talk about it, plently, and decide together what to do.

He pours another cup of coffee and waits for Gale to pad barefoot to the kitchen, yawning ans with his hair all askew — he wonders what his fans would think of him now, as natural as he comes. For John, he's still the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

"Morning darlin'," Gale drawls. "How are the reviews?"

John smirks, passing him the coffee. "They're good, but the thing that's making the most numbers online this morning is you, love!"

Gale smiles, confused. "Are you practicing your math puns?"

"Come take a look," John simply answers, sliding his phone towards him. Gale picks it up, more confused, and his eyes widen as he takes in the pictures. "Those fuckers!" He says, outraged. "They followed us to the restaurant?"

"Maybe, or maybe one of them was simply passing by and took his chance. Read the comments, come on."

As he reads, Gale blushes in a way John finds utterly adorable. "They think I'm hot?" He asks.

John nods, solemnly. "That you are babe, that you are. Look, I'm gonna cal Lil later, tell her to work her magic to have those removed. She's my agent, that's what I hired her for and I know she's good with this kind of thing."

"Why do you want to remove them?"

It's John's turn to be confused. "Well it's a violation of our privacy, and I though you'd be pretty pissed about them," he says tentatively.

Gale nods, sipping his coffee. "It is a violation and I'm pissed at those paps, they should get a life and not bother ours. But the pictures are out, and by now they must have been seen by anyone. I don't think it would matter to have them removed. Besides, I kinda like the way people talk about us in the comments," he admits, still slightly blushing. "They're not judging, they like us."

"They like you," John points out.

"Yeah, but they also like us as a couple. See? Most comments are about us!"

"And that doesn't bother you?" John asks, perplexed.

"Well, it had to come up sooner or later, didn't it? I would have preferred to have more of a say in how and when, but since it happened..."

"So let me get this straight, you want us to be out in public, on the internet, at the mercy of strangers? Are you sure?"

"Why are you putting it so menacing?"

"Because people will judge — me, you, us. Not everyone will be utterly positive and supportive. I just want you to think carefully about that," John says. He'd have absolutely no problem posting a pic of him and Gale on his official profile right now, but he wants the other man to be sure.

Gale cocks an eyebrow at him. "Not everyone will be utterly positive and supportive, really? Is that not the story of our lives?"

John smirks. "You're right, as usual. So, what do you propose we do? Can I post a picture of us like, right now?"

Gale laughs. "Now, don't rush! Let's talk with Lil first, I'm sure she knows how to deal with a... how are the youngsters calling it nowadays? A hard launch?"

"Hanging out with teenagers is ruining you, Buck! How do you even know such a term?!" John laughs, then pulls Gale closer to hug his waist and nuzzles his face against his fiancé's stomach. "You know, you're incredible: a lifetime together, and you still manage to surprise me," he says, softly.

Gale strokes his hair, humming content. "And I'll keep doing it for the rest of our lives. Now, if you're finished with the reviews and don't have to go out so soon, why don't you come back in our bedroom with me? We haven't celebrated enough this morning, as far as I'm concerned..."

—

A few days later, a picture is posted on John Egan's official Instagram profile. It's a black and white picture of him and another man, one that the fans recognize as the mysterious boyfriend Egan was kissing outside a restaurant in the paparazzi pics that came out a few days ago. The private profile of the other man, one Gale Cleven from Wyoming, theatre aficionado and apparently math teacher, is clearly tagged in the picture.

But the thing that truly sends the fans rioting is the simple, teasing caption:

If you thought John Egan was hot, you should see his fiancé!

[javisjeanjacket]

Miguel O'Hara SFW Headcanons

A/N: just some soft/cute thoughts about our favorite red flag 🥺 !!

Warnings: mentions of miggy's lost family, one hc is about working out, mentions of nightmares but no description of them

-Miguel absolutely hatessss leaving you alone. Whether that's because he has to go fight crime or you have errands to run, he wants to be with you all the time. He lost one family and he never thought he'd find another and now that he has you, he doesn't want to let go 🥺

-He has nightmares where he sees Gabi disappear from his arms again and again. He'll wake up panting and trembling and be unable to go back to sleep for a few hours. When you start sleeping over, the nightmares will wake you too and once you're there to hold him and gently brush a hand over his back and through his hair, he'll never be able to sleep without you.

-He really is a giant teddy bear with you. Like imagine you're brushing your teeth in the morning, and he stumbles in, bleary-eyed and hair mussed, and lays his face in your neck and wraps his arms around you and says in his grumbly morning voice, 'Hey baby.'

-If you're out somewhere and someone messes up your order, Miguel is insisting it be taken back and made correctly 😤 He's not mean about it, just firm. You only deserve the very best.

-He wears one of your hair ties (or extra bra straps 😏) around his wrist at all times.

-He doesn't like change or trying new things, but if you ask him to try it, he will to make you happy.

-He ADORES you!! Every single part of you!! Sometimes he'll brush over your hair and then pick it up to give it a little kiss before he leaves.

-He's very introverted and closed off with his emotions, so even though he likes you it takes a while for him to really open up. But he does, little by little. He'll brush over your hand or tell you about the best meal he's ever had. And then eventually he's telling you things he never thought he could tell anyone and his heart is pounding out of his chest when he sees you.

-When you're sick, the doctor is IN 😤😤 He's got your medication times as alarms in his phone, he's checking if you need tea, water, Gatorade, whatever. You need cuddles? He's there. You need to watch 6 hours of SVU? Done. Miggy don't PLAY when it comes to your health!!

-Hes one of those that if you're together, even at home doing you're own separate things, he wants you to be touching him somehow. He likes to have you physically near him, it makes him feel safe 🥺

-He struggles to plan dates because he puts too much pressure on trying to make it perfect. He gets so in his head about it that he feels like nothing he chooses will be right. You might need to suggest things you'd like to do with him or ask him what he feels like doing and build dates together instead.

-He has shelves and shelves of books and they're all in alphabetical order and sorted by size as well.

-He drinks black coffee and has a specific roast he drinks every day.

-He knows what his 'just out of the shower' body and hair do to you and he definitely uses it to his advantage 😏 imagine him walking out of the bathroom while you're chilling, with only a towel slung around his waist, and "stretching" his arms in front of you with a big smug grin.

-He's actually incredibly romantic once he finds someone he really likes (i.e. YOU). He loves thinking of things you'd like, of turning over your words in his mind, of planning what he's going to say to you next time he sees you, just anything he could do to show you how loved you are. He wants all he is and all he knows to be for you. Loving you calms him.

-You two work out together (read: you workout and Miguel pretends to sweat and exert himself in the same gym as you) and he's always so proud of you no matter what you do or how long you workout!! Getting up and getting there is the most important thing! He'll squeeze your muscles and call you 'killer' after you finish too.

-Sometimes when he gets really frustrated and doesn't know how to solve whatever he's working on (superhero or normal person stuff) you wrapping your arms around him or putting a hand on his cheek and getting him to focus on something else for a second will help him think clearly again. I'm just picturing him having been working and huffing around all day, only to then finally come and find you, pull you to him, and sigh heavily as all the stress melts away. You recenter him and make him feel safe!!

-He LOVES being your baby!! Your Miggy!! 😍😍 Especially when those pet names highlight the softness that he hides so very deep inside of him. Like if you were to call him 'sweetheart' or 'sweet man' ??? WHOOOO he's in a puddle on the floor!! 🥺🥺 Melted into the palm of your hand!! 🥴🥴 He never wants you to call him anything else but those sweet names 💘

MIGGY TAGLIST: @pettyprocrastination @chiliiscereal @wenclairswife @hottoyvodka @vanilla-sweets @707xn @shibble @nebulaegem @realsimpbitchshit @marsthedefender @justsomereaderwholikesanime @me0w-miix @reanie-xoxo @certainhorsegoopcop @mushroomieee @whinsical-ash @ninjawarriorprincess4 @nimyoongi

EVERYTHING TAGLIST: @over300books @autumnleaves1991-blog @phoenixhalliwell @ntlmundy @myheart-pedro @intu-witch-tion @frietiemeloen @greeneyedblondie44 @amneris21 @disasterhann @aana4664 @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @maievdenoir @heyitsjaybird @nerdypinupcrystal @buckybarneshairpullingkink

[inquisimer]

Happy DADWC!! if it strikes your fancy how about "you need someone. let me be that person. let me be what you need" for Cousland x Nathaniel? I'm absolutely weak for this ship. Or for any ship that inspires you!

thank you for the prompt! I am also weak for this ship, it's just got so much Potential in so many directions. A little ✨tension✨ for @dadrunkwriting tonight >:]

-

Ember drove her sword against the training dummy. Again and again, spinning and ducking around imaginary assailants that were all too real in her mind. A thin sheen of sweat covered her skin, soaking through her loose cotton shirt.

"Ember? Are you--woah, woah!"

She hadn't heard the door open and on instinct whipped around, bringing her sword straight to Nathaniel's throat. He held up his palms, holding her gaze as she panted, the haze in her eyes fading as she came back to herself and dropped the blade.

"What is it?"

"I saw the lights," Nathaniel said, tracking as she filled a small dipper with water kept cool by a frost rune. "It's late. You should be asleep."

"Can't."

"Is this going to help?"

Ember shrugged. "Can't hurt."

"Em..."

"Oh, don't start," she scowled. "Of all people, you know why it's like this. I'm doing what I can."

"I know you are." Nathaniel came to her side and gently caught her by the shoulders, spinning her to face him. "But there are better ways. Ways that aren't physically exhausting yourself to avoid thinking. You just have to ask."

"Ask who?" Her voice was pained and she closed her eyes. "You?"

"You know that you can--"

"How, Nate? How is that fair to either of us?"

He smiled at that; she heard the little chuckle that accompanied it.

"Haven't you learned by now?" His voice was much closer than she expected; Ember's eyes snapped open as his breath ghosted over her lips. "The world won't be fair. We don't have to play by those rules."

And then he was kissing her. His hands slid up and tangled in her hair, already knocked half loose from its knot by her exertion.

Caught off guard, she was still and unresponsive for just a beat too long, then there was a loud clatter as her sword fell against the stone and she kissed him back, a messy tangle of teeth and lips. She hooked her thumb in the waistband of his trousers and nudged him back until he hit the the closed door. They broke apart, gasping.

"This is," Ember murmured, tongue chasing the taste of him on her lips. Nathaniel's eyes traced the movement hungrily. "A terrible idea. For so many reasons."

"Don't you ever stop thinking?" Nathaniel growled. She opened her mouth with a sharp retort, but he swallowed it, swiping his tongue into her mouth. The kiss was both forceful and gentle; underneath his assertion, she could feel the concern and worry he was masking. She jerked away, nipping at his lip and smirking when his hands tightened in her hair.

"Can't stop thinking," she said. "That's a good way for a Warden Commander to die."

One of Nathaniel's hands slid out of her hair, down her neck and the length of her arm, and came to rest against her hip. With fingers so deft she didn't even feel it, he pulled her badge from the clip she always wore there. He held it up between them, the reflected torch light glinting off the silverite.

Then he threw it across the room. It smacked a training dummy in the face and clattered to the floor.

"Take the night off," he said, and spun her around so he could kiss her thoroughly against the door.

[mara-tevith-solo]

Give Me a Reason

Here’s chapter 2 to the request fic. This one is a bit more angsty, deals with some stuff. Enjoy!

Pairing: Recom Lyle Wainfleet x Na’vi/Avatar curvy!reader 

warnings: Angst, swearing, physical violence, battle, slight panic attack, talk of torture to a minor, Quaritch getting some fee fees finally, talk of past abuse

Rating: 18+ as always

Words: 3.1k+ a bit shorter this time

You slightly regretted thinking that things would be smoother, that there was no way things could go so damned horribly that you'd be cowering behind a tree to avoid the gun fire from beside you, and well aimed arrows from ahead of you. You thought you'd put it behind you after the last raid, after agreeing to teach the Recoms the Na'vi ways. You refused to fight the Sullys and you didn't care if Quaritch punished you. You'd claim religious exemption if you needed to. You were not going to raise a hand against them. "Y/n!" Lyle called before the explosions started, a slight panic to his voice as he tried to locate you. An explosion rocked you in your hiding place, even though it wasn't close enough to truly hurt you, right as you were about to call back to him. You curled tight around yourself, panic beginning to set in as you clamped your hands over your ears, your breaths coming out in rapid shallow pants "Y/n!" He called again, much closer. You could barely hear him, like you were suddenly underwater, your eyes shut tight as you tried to stave off the panic attack.

A large hand found you, cupping the back of your head, gloved fingers tangling in your hair "No!" You cried, reeling back and smacking at the hand "Not again! Not again!" You screamed, your breaths becoming quicker as your panic mounted.

"Y/n!" Lyle's voice broke through the fear, making your eyes snap open and focus on him. He wanted to break at your fear and pain, watching you shiver and hyperventilate, curled in a tight ball at the base of the tree, your eyes nearly all pupil "You're ok, Baby. I got you," He promised earnestly, sliding his rifle strap back up to his shoulder and tucking the weapon behind his back. He coaxed you to relax slightly, gently pulling you closer to him, letting you keep your hands over your ears "I got you, Sweetheart." He managed to pull you to stand with him, immediately tucking you under his left arm as he grabbed his rifle with his right "Gotta catch up with the others. Can you run?" He asked, keeping his mouth close to your ear though he was at least somewhat aware of your surroundings. You nodded absently as his warmth began settling the panic, helping to ease your breathing as you trotted beside him. He had to release you from under his arm, but he was quick to grab your hand before the panic could return anew, pulling you along with him.

He didn't stop until you had both rejoined what remained of the group, nearly half of their already reduced number left alive. Quaritch picked up something that you couldn't see, ordering everyone to retreat, leading the charge back to the rendezvous point. You clung to Lyle's hand as you ran beside him, your heart still racing from more than just the exertion. Under the craft, while everyone was attaching their harness to the cables, your hands shook so badly that you missed the carabiner more than once before finally getting it and being pulled up with everyone else. A human unhooked you from the cable before harshly motioning for you to join the others, sneering up at you as she did so. You paid her little mind as you turned to the Marines, eyes automatically searching for Lyle, but finding the unconscious form of someone you'd hoped had gotten away "Spider!" You yelped as you dove forward, crashing to your knees beside him. You cradled his head gently before leaning down and pressing an ear to his chest, listening to his heart beat and his lungs, listening for any little irregularity. "My son, my dear son..." You sniffled as you sat back up, not noticing the attention that was on you as you began digging through the pouches on your belt, looking for the herbs you'd found on the short trip.

"Your son..." Quaritch's voice trailed, only partially distracting you as you quickly glanced up from your search before your fingers found what you were looking for.

"I raised Spider from a toddler, took him in despite the tensions it created with the Omaticaya." You explained quickly while crushing the small dark green leaves between the heels of your palms just enough to bruise them. You glanced up to the regret and remorse on Quaritch's face, the emotions practically oozing off of him "He started walking at only ten months, and his first word was 'Da'. I never kept the knowledge of you or Paz away from him." You took pity on him, frowning softly as you carefully laid the leaves on most of Spider's wounds.

"I..." He began, his expression still echoing pain as he glanced at you gratefully "I appreciate it." He nodded.

"You had me worried for a sec, Y/n." Lyle found a way to ease the tension in the transport, cracking the ice with humor.

You smiled softly at him, thankful for the distraction and the opportunity to change the subject "God help you if you ever get me pregnant." You chuckled, shaking your head as the other Recoms began chuckling with him, all of them equally thankful for the distraction from the loss they'd all suffered.

You latched onto the opportunity, fighting to not worry about the after that was going to happen as soon as the transport landed "Can you imagine the chaos if there had been little Wainfleets running around back in the day? Having one was bad enough!" Zdinarsk cackled, slapping Lyle on the back as she shook her head at the thought.

"Don't tempt him!" Ja chimed in, making Lyle swat at him playfully. You smiled at the scene, your hand gently resting on Spider's chest, over his heart, as you sat beside him. You didn't fail to notice Quaritch close by on his other side, outwardly just as worried as you felt.

"You're not going to let them hurt him... are you?" You found yourself whispering over Spider, barely daring to look at the Colonel from the corner of your eyes, your heart beating harder in anticipation of his answer.

He just looked at you with a private frown, his own concern and uncertainty in his eyes. You could tell that he was already fighting with himself to keep things business, could practically hear his internal argument that the boy technically wasn't his son. That he was yours and only yours and shouldn't matter to him at all. But there was something drawing him to the boy, to the idea of parenthood. He didn't speak until the transport landed, standing from his seat and immediately crouching to pick up Spider. "Let's go!" He ordered everyone, carefully leaving the craft himself. That trek into the main building felt so long, so hard, like you were walking to your own execution.

You were cuffed upon entry, General Ardmore resolved to not trust you despite the teams' assurances that you were well controlled and behaved. You had a pretty good guess as to why she disliked you, about four hundred million dollars worth of reasons, not to mention lives lost and insurance payouts, but those were semantics in the grand scheme of their little invasion. "Oh good, another prisoner." Her sour expression greeted you all, a cup of coffee in her hand as per usual. "Is this one at least useful?" She threw the barb without even a glance in your direction, though her expression seemed to sour further as you rolled your eyes at her.

"Mrs. Wainfleet here raised him with the Omaticaya. He'll know what we need." Quaritch promised, flicking his head in your direction with a scowl. His tail was up and still, betraying his tension and ill-ease as he faced off with the General.

She nodded, her lips pinching in that constipated little smile she liked doing "Good. Put him in The Chair." She ordered before turning and beginning to walk away as though she hadn't just ordered the torture of a minor.

You were instantly charging, snarling at her inhumanity, twisting your arms up and over your head painfully so at least they were bound in front of you "He's a god damned child you fucking sociopath!" You yelled at her right as two different sets of hands clamped onto your arms, preventing you from closing the full distance. Though that didn't stop you from digging into the linoleum and pulling with all your might "A fucking child! You're going to torture a FUCKING CHILD!" Your voice was ragged as you screamed.

"Y/n stand down!" Quaritch ordered with a sharp bark, handing off Spider to a gurney team somewhere behind you. You snarled at him over your shoulder, the target of your rage switching to the large male.

"You're going to allow this?!" You cried as someone's arms locked around you, pulling you off your feet "He's your son! HE'S YOUR SON!" You screamed as you flailed and kicked your legs, your feet connecting with random bits of electrical equipment, making it all spark and go offline.

"Lieutenant, get her outta here! You need to cool off, Y/n!" He growled roughly, warning you to start calming down or else bad things would happen as punishment.

Lyle had no choice but to start walking, carrying you well away from everyone, even as you tried to kick in such a way that was throwing your weight around, trying to throw him off balance enough for you to get free. He just grit his teeth and hung on, stopping to plant his feet every time you tried, only putting you down when you tried to bite him. But by that time, he was right where he meant to put you, the cell too bright and cold as he pushed you in ahead of him, keeping you at arm's length as you hissed and tried pushing back against him. "That's enough!" He barked, his tone full of authority and barely contained anger at your behavior.

"Don't order me around!" You barked right back, finally opting to back away from him, moving so that the table was between the both of you.

"Then stop acting like a psycho bitch!" He threw at you, his hands fisted at his sides as you watched him approach you again, not letting you back off. He’d never been one to allow space, he always had to confront a problem directly and right then. The words struck you hard and deep, deeper than anyone could have expected. They called back happily forgotten memories of your parents, how they would call you psychotic and threaten to commit you whenever you fought back against the parentification, against their general treatment of you.

Without warning, without thought, one of your palms connected with his cheek in a resounding slap! the sound echoing in the barren room. "You son of a bastard." You snarled at him through clenched teeth, the words sounding like they were coming from low in your throat. He continued to stare at the spot his head at been moved to, his jaw working with his anger as his chest heaved with mighty breaths. When he finally looked at you, it wasn't hard to see the betrayal and anger, making his narrowed eyes nearly glow, his lips thin little lines from how tight his mouth was. 

He left without a word, his stomping steps echoing through the hall even as the door shut firmly behind him. You stood there, staring at the door for what felt like an eternity as what you'd done finally hit you, regret and remorse flooding your being. You sank to the floor slowly, tears of worry and regret falling down your cheeks as you curled up under the table. You wanted nothing more than to apologize to him, to beg for forgiveness at his feet, but you were in a cell. You'd have to wait for however long he stayed away, while your son was tortured somewhere out there. You were helpless, truly, and you hated it.

You lost track of time as you sat there, aimlessly staring at a random point on the far wall, the events of the day playing over and over in your mind. You remembered how the kids had all stared at you with varying degrees of betrayal as soon as they had seen you appear with the Recoms, even as you had placed yourself between them and Quaritch, begging that he not hurt them. Their change in trust had lasted until they saw the cuff on your right wrist, the cool metal close to your skin, a thin layer of padding barely keeping it from biting into you. The damned thing was blinking at you mockingly, the little red light always in your vision and you couldn't do anything about it, cuffed as you were.

Your chin was beginning to dig painfully into your knees when the door swished open, calling your attention to the boots and partial legs that entered your vision, pulling you from your moping though you didn't move, or even hint that you'd seen the person. You could hear Quaritch sigh as he lowered to a knee, bending the rest of the way to get you to acknowledge him "Like mother, like son." He mused before lowering down the rest of the way, sitting with his legs crossed just across from you, though not under the table.

"Basic psychology." You shrugged absently, still listlessly staring at him like you couldn't even see him. "Get what you wanted?" You couldn't help but ask, the tiniest bit of bitterness in your voice.

He frowned before letting out an amused puff of breath "You should be proud, kid didn't give them anything." He praised and you were absently curious if he noticed his verbal distinction.

"I don't care if he talked, Colonel. I care that you tortured him." You finally met his gaze, letting him see the simmering anger you were keeping just under the surface.

His ears lowered as he looked away, frowning again as he fidgeted with shame "I stopped them, before he could truly be hurt. He's fine, before ya ask. I offered him a deal."

"What sort of deal?"

"He could travel with us, no information required, help you teach us. Or I'd have to give him back to the science pukes."

"I think I already know what he chose." You sighed, your shoulders sagging in relief. You wanted to cry again, so happy that he was out of direct danger. That he didn't have just you looking out for him anymore.

Quaritch nodded, watching your reaction like a hawk before he was suddenly serious again "Y/n, you can't try to attack human personnel again. Ardmore tried ordering me to have you executed 'put her down, she's obviously rabid' were her words. You do it again and I can't protect you." His warning was gentle though no less serious and heavy. You opened your mouth to agree and explain, but he beat you to it "I know why you did it, and I'm not saying you're wrong. You just need to restrain your temper in certain situations from now on. I'm not about to explain to the kid why you're dead."

You ducked your head a little, not able to look him in the eye as you realized he was right, and that that would crush Spider, especially if Quaritch had to be the one to tell him "Yes sir." You mumbled, feeling guilty as hell.

He nodded in acknowledgement before returning to a knee "Come on, we gotta get ready to go back out, finally start training."

You began getting out from under the table as he stood and backed away, giving you space to move "We should start with Ikran. Then we don't have to rely on where the Samsons can and can't go." You suggested as you followed him out of the room.

He nodded as he walked ahead of you, making it look like he was more tense and aware of you than he actually was, putting on a show for the humans "That'll be our first stop." He agreed, glancing at you over his shoulder "Everyone else is already gearing up, we'll meet them there."

No sooner had he spoke that the door in front of you both opened, revealing the rest of the squad as they packed everything they would need for an extended time in the field. Lyle barely glanced at the two of you, his face carefully blank but he could never hide the hurt in his eyes. You left Quaritch without a word and stopped right beside Lyle, staying a couple feet away to be respectful "I'm sorry, I was outta line." His eyes snapped up to you as you spoke, his ears focused on you.

He hadn't been expecting you to apologize, just as out of line as you had been. He knew how bad he'd hurt you as soon as the words left his mouth, he remembered your parents well. They were the reason you both got married at sixteen, to save you. He pulled you close, one hand on your waist as the other tangled in your hair, cupping the back of your head tenderly as he leaned down and pressed his forehead to yours "I'm sorry too." He murmured into the small space between you, his eyes closed as he breathed you in, felt your hands fist his shirt between you both "I deserved it."

"No you didn't." You vowed firmly, leaning up so the bridges of your noses were also pressed together.

Spider cleared his throat from nearby, calling all attention to him as he stared at you both with equal parts disgust, confusion, and amusement "Ummm... Mom... who's this?" He asked, looking at Lyle like he was a social rival, like an unwelcomed guest. He even glanced at Quaritch who only crossed his arms and leaned against a shelving unit, eyes dancing with mirth.

You pulled away from Lyle and sat down on your knees, wanting to be closer to his eye level as you broke the news "Spider, this is Lyle. Lyle Wainfleet." You watched him carefully, watched for any signs of distress as his eyes bounced between the two of you.

"Your ex-husband? The one who shot you?" He asked incredulously, causing Lyle to shift at the implications and connotations he was presenting.

You shook your head patiently "He's my husband, has always been my husband. And yes, he did shoot me, but he and I have already discussed that."

Spider was silent for a moment as he pondered your words, before slowly approaching and jabbing a finger up at the large male who was doing his best to not laugh or appear entertained by the display "You hurt her again and I'll use your balls as a bola." Spider vowed, tone firm and unwavering.

"Heard." Lyle managed to say somewhat seriously.