#that fucking no one is trained in dealing with the fucking pelvis. for fucks sake we all HAVE one so FIX it

[corpsentry]

life update pelvis bone separation is ruining my life and making it impossible to stand or sit without feeling like all my bones are exploding but at least since i can’t do my five dance classes now i can burn my way through my school’s supply of acrylic on the laser cutter

[katsukikitten]

Part 2! Here is Part 1 f you have yet to read it! I hope you enjoy my little Walmart brand of summer wars as much as I am writing it! Let me know what you think!

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The two of you leave with a small bow before your grandmother answers the phone. 

The second you are out of the room Bakugou grabs you roughly by the wrist, pulling you down into the small dimly lit hallway to press you against the dark wooden wall, caging you in much like he did on the train. 

But this time with malintent. Small pops ring out from his forearms, one hand threatening to char the wood beside your head while the other grips your wrist harder. 

You could understand his anger, it's not as if you had been truthful to Bakugou. He detests liars and although you didn't necessarily lie to him you still told him a half truth. He was still figuring out which was worse. 

"Fucking fiance?!" He snarls close to your face, "Deal's off." 

You had planned to allow him to bitch and moan about the shitty situation you put him in without argument. 

But his refusal to act semi decent towards you for the sake of your grandmother's old heart had rage burning hot in your veins. 

It wasn't like you were asking him to fuck you. With a tick in your jaw you drop your precious Kimono. Grabbing onto his chin with your free hand, tilting his face closer to yours to have a better look at those stunning crimson eyes. They widen from both the force of your grip and the proximity of your lips. He swallows thickly, his glare slowly coming back. 

"Listen here Bakugou Katsuki. I'm asking you to pretend to be my fiance for two weeks. I'm asking for small shit like sitting close to me, maybe giving a small smile in my direction and at the most hand holding. I'm not asking you to fucking marry me or fuck me in front of my family. My grandmother is a bit old fashioned if you couldn't tell by the house or her demeanor, she has been hounding me about bringing a man to her for approval since I was 16. She wanted to make sure I had a man that deserved me, that I would be taken care of. So I've made up boyfriend after boyfriend since I've never really had time for more than a good fuck but my Uncle called me last winter to tell me her health was beginning to decline and rapidly at that. I called her immediately and told her I had just become engaged and she'd meet him on her birthday. So you've got two choices Katsuki." You let every syllable of his name soak in sugar coated venom, "Suck it up for two fucking weeks and be semi decent to me or break my grandmother's heart and earn a dangerous enemy." 

Bakugou's heart pounded in his chest the entire time you were ranting, unsure of why he was attracted to the hard set of your eyes and the ice in your voice. His stomach flips when you say his first name causing him to grind his teeth. He breaks away from your grip with his free hand, quickly pinning your arms above your head. Locking your delicate yet deadly wrists in one of his broad hands while the other presses against your hip bone. Thumb sliding through the loop of your too short shorts, bringing your pelvis to his.  The denim was barely able to contain your ass and thick thighs, he is surprised none of your elders have scolded you for such indecency if they were as old fashioned as you say. 

The faint blush on your cheeks and the defiant look in your eyes has his voice turn husky as he speaks.

"I should make you regret bringing me here. Maybe have you begging for something else." His lips a breath away as he presses his forehead to yours. Eyes molten with what you think is lust before he tilts his face. Amplifying the sudden magnetism between your plump lips and his own. Your chest tightens with mixed emotions as your eyes begin to flutter closed.

Suddenly he changes direction and gives you a harsh headbutt, hard enough your vision blurs at the edges causing you to growl in response. 

"This better not fucking bruise." 

He rolls his eyes, dropping your hands as he reaches down for the old Kimino. His heart racing from almost losing control of these odd feelings. 

Feelings that had never been aimed towards you until your grandmother stirred them up. 

"Would you die for my granddaughter?" 

The question drives him mad, mad enough that he places the kimono in your hands speaking the dark thought that he should have fucking kept to himself.

"Did you actually drag me along for your grandmother's sake or did you just want the kimono, Princess?" His voice is all bite, holding your gaze, your eyes widening. 

"Don't call me that." Your voice threatens to crack but he walks away before he can see the rest of your reaction to wander the house for his room until dinner. 

You're left standing there, eyes glued to the fabric, the deep navy blue and hand stitched cranes and lotus blur in your hands. Before fat droplets fall from your eyes. 

Why did you ever think Bakugou Katsuki would be a good partner, fake or not. 

You collect yourself quickly, angrily swiping at your eyes before you set to find your normal room. 

It doesn't take you long and you're honestly hoping Bakugou stays lost until dinner. His room should be on the opposite wing of the house. Opening the old tatami door to find Mei setting down your stuff and Bakugou's bag.  Mei follows your eyes to the well worn backpack with a skull pin on the strap. She knew exactly who it belonged to when she picked it up, having spotted the handsome devil from the hall. 

"Mei what's this you know he's supposed to be in the western wing!" You exclaim, trudging past her to hang your kimono on the old rack in the corner of the room. Mei scoffs, eyes glued to her phone as she speaks. 

"He was bound to sneak this way anyway. I'm doing you a favor." She rolls her eyes as if she knows everything at the ripe age of sixteen. 

You thought you knew everything then too. You sigh, rolling your own eyes. 

"What you call a favor I call a headache. Just take his bag to his room." You pass the straps to her, hating that it smells so much like him. Your stomach flips even as you look at the two person futon. 

"Just sleep with him tonight no one will know! Plus I hadn't cleaned his room. It's full of spider webs, the floor needs patching and his futon is gonna be dusty." She counters. 

"B..but one futon is not modest." 

"Wow please tell me you're not a virgin jushi. You're gonna get married anyway! I know I wouldn't have said no to a catch like that either!" 

Mei makes her way out of your room while you pinch the bridge or your nose. 

"Yea…. Why would I ever say no to such a great catch?" You fall backwards onto the futon hoping that that asshole was still lost for now. 

Someone would find him wandering and take him to the great dining room. 

×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×

Thankfully someone does end up showing Bakugou to the dining room but of course it would be Mei who also tells him where the SHARED room is. You bite your lip and choose to play dumb.  

"Oh good you found your way, babe." You smile sinking next to him on one of the many blue cushions. He grunts in response but pulls your cushion closer to his. Carefully pouring you some water before he yanks down your tank top that was riding up and trying to expose your midriff. His fingers feel like fire as they brush against your skin, igniting a dying ember in your stomach.

You quickly remind yourself of his nasty comment, as you're about to set him straight your cousin Haru walks into the room.  He sucks his teeth and sits further down the table across from his sister Mei as people slowly come in to sit or bring in food. 

"I don't know why you bothered to bring him here. Sobo is never going to approve of him." He cracks open his beer and drinks prematurely earning an eye roll from his sister. Bakugou and yourself both open your mouth to retort when Mei pipes up. Eyes still glued to her phone as her thumbs fly across the illuminated glass. 

"She already did stupid. She gave her the crane Kimono so get used to seeing his face." Mei rolls her eyes as your cheeks blush. 

Bakugou regrets his comment now more than ever but sucks his own teeth. An older gentleman sits to Bakugou's left commenting on the conversation as he does. 

"Wow the crane kimono! You know she's been holding onto that for quite some time. You must be very special. I'm Sozen, your lovely fiance's Uncle." He smiles, just as you're about pinch the blonde to make sure he answers he gives a small bow of his head. 

"Bakugou Katsuki." He introduces himself as aunt Mai rushes into the room.

"Wait, wait! I want to meet him!" She sinks next to your right, all smiles as her eyes are fixated on the young man, "Wow he is as handsome as you said on the phone last night." 

Fresh blush creeps onto your cheeks, remembering the phone conversation from when you were too nervous to sleep last night. Bakugou catches on and smirks in response. Everyone but Sobo takes their seats and you decide now is a good time as ever to get the formalities over with. 

"Let's just get through the introductions shall we?" You say as you run through the names of each family member on both sides of the three low tables shoved together. Introducing the hot head to well over 12 adults and their children and even children's children. For now Bakugou only makes an effort to remember the ones closest to him. 

Uncle Sozen who sits to his left and Aunt Mai who sits to your right. It's becoming quickly apparent that a lot of your family is either much older or much younger than yourself. He can understand why you could feel a little lonely at times. Being more of a black sheep than anything. Then he realises something very important.

"Wait, where are your parents?" He asks lowly to which you shrug. 

"They show up closer to grandma's birthday. They are both extremely busy and always have been. Soba more or less raised me." 

As if one cue grandmother comes in, looking over the table with the biggest and warmest smile she can muster. It reminds him of the summer sun lazily dancing across his skin in the late afternoon. 

And again it reminds him of you. He looks to you and sees you mirroring the exact same smile, happy for your grandmother's happiness causing his chest to tighten and butterflies to awaken in his stomach. He grinds his teeth in an attempt to calm them down. 

She sits at the head of the table, closest to Great Oba who he had the pleasure of meeting first thing, before grandmother holds up her small cup of sake. 

"To family." She announces, everyone lifts what cup they have, whether it was a kids small sippy cup, their o-choko, or even their cup of tea. 

"To family!" They roar back to her all taking a sip. 

"Let's eat." She says while the family cries out, "Itadakimasu!" 

The tables are loud and full of conversation. Although Katuski's family is not so big, the volume reminds him of his own family. A small smirk comes to his lips as he thinks of his mother and how she would fit in here. 

"So no Shoji?" Haru asks with a sneer, almost purposefully stirring the pot. 

"No surprise there." Someone else comments. 

"Shut. Up. Haru." You bite out, look fierce as if you were to devour him whole. He swallows thickly. 

"Great uncle Kodaka tell us about that battle we won here!" You change the subject and everyone groans as Kodaka starts the story they've heard thousands of times before.

"It was almost 150 years ago, when we were still a prosperous nation. Us samarai doing fine on our own. Hired by the wealthy or living by our own moral compass. It was like fish in a barrel…" 

The story continues on, mostly the children listen and your grandmother who smiles as she hears her youngest speak.

Sozen leans closer to Bakugou, as grey eyes hold onto scarlet. Bakugou remains quiet, glancing to you and then back to the uncle. Uncle Sozen takes this as an invitation to speak. 

"I guess since you're gonna be part of the family now I should tell you about Shoji. There was a time shortly before Grandpa died that he went down a dark path, gambling away majority of the family fortune and just when grams thought she had him under control then came Shoji.He was Grandpa's illegitimate child with a woman much younger than Sobo. But she loved Shoji fiercely anyway. She would take him through the field of wildflowers to the lake in the early mornings of summer. One hot day when he was small and the sun was rising, painting the sky in hues of red there was a crane. Our family's crest." Uncle Sozen points to the wooden crest above the door to the adjacent room that held the family's artifacts. A crane stands tall with a white lotus behind it in full bloom.

"It was the first time in decades that a crane had come to the lake and the lotus were in full bloom. He flew away, causing a gentle ripple in the lake and it was then Sobo knew that Shoji would bring fortune to our family." Sozen peeks your way to make sure you're not over hearing, he continues explaining softly as your loud laugh bellows out, "Everyone is so angry with him because he took the last of grandmother's savings and then ran away to America with no way to be contacted." 

"She is quick to defend him because she was too young to really remember how much it upset Sobo. That and she believed in him wholeheartedly. She looked up to him because despite his quirklessness he was exceptionally intelligent. She had faith that he would restore honor and fortune to our name." Sozen's chopsticks point to you as he speaks before he picks up a dumpling. Bakugou's eyes follow over you. 

"Hello Sobo." A deep voice calls from the engawa reducing the lively roar of dinner conversation to nothing more than the sad song of a lonely cricket.

"Uncle Shoji?!" You call excited, standing from your spot at the long table while the rest of the room holds animosity. 

Bakugou downs his sake to which Uncle Sozen silently refills. 

"I thought you were still abroad in the states!" You sink next to him and pull him into a crushing hug. He smiles, slowly separating the two of you. 

"What the hell do you want trash?!" Uncle Kodaka snarls, to which you produce a deadly glare his way.  

"Well yes I was in the states, thank you for asking Princess." He tucks a stay hair behind your ear before rising to speak with grandmother.

He does not address her properly nor does he bow. If anything he stands loosely with an arrogance about him that leaves majority of the room with a sour taste in their mouth. Bakugou watches Great Oba's chopsticks strain in her delicate hand, the distaste for him is becoming more and more obvious by the second.

And then he opens his mouth. 

"I made tenfold out of what you let me borrow, Soba." He pulls a stack of money and a check from his pocket as he speaks, "I made a drug to make people powerless and sold it to the highest bidder." 

Eyes around the room widen as news headlines flash in their heads about a new drug that made people quirkless. Villains shooting innocent bystanders and heroes in hopes of getting a leg up. 

Shoji tosses the money and the check onto grandmother's lap. Dark brown eyes stare into her lap for a long moment. 

Suddenly grandmother moves like an agile cat, jumping to her feet and grabbing for one of the divine naginata. She wields it masterfully before shoving the point towards him, fire burning in her eyes. 

"Mother!" Half the table shouts, as you begin to see red. You stand stepping next to Shoji, body shaking with rage as your heart drums in your ears. 

"I knew my Princess would save me." He says coyly to hide just how shaken he is, sweat dripping down his brow. Even ten years your senior he couldn't hide his fear of the fierce woman before him, shocked that a woman in her nineties could still brandish such a big and heavy weapon. 

Your hands land harshly on Shoji's chest as you give him a shove. Shocking the table into further silence. 

"YOU MADE THAT?!" Your voice echoes over the dining room, into the empty halls and out into the night but somehow the hurt in it does not reach Shoji. 

"Of course, it was going to be a hot seller. Governments offered me billions. Besides I made an anti...." But before he can finish you've got him by the collar. 

"HOW CAN YOU BE SO INTELLIGENT YET SO DAFT?!" Bakugou watches your knuckles turn white while your cheeks flush deep red. Shoji barely frees himself, his shirt crumpled but you press on. 

"Those were my friends!" A stomp of your foot has the dishes rattling on the table, Bakugou becomes more on edge, "You hurt my fucking friends!" 

You raise both of your fists above your head, ready to bring them down with all of your might. Too angry to control your gauge of power uncaring of the consequences. Katuski acts quickly, flicking his wrist to empty the shallow cup of sake high into the air. Igniting it into beautiful dancing fireworks, the kids oo and ah while he hopes to distract you if only for a moment. 

It works, slightly. You realize his plan as he jumps to his feet, running along the low tables as you try to beat him to the punch. 

Literally.

Bakugou barely makes it, shoving Shoji into the table, food and dishes fly into the air just to stain the freshly mopped wooden floors. The hot head holds out his other arm to take the brunt of your force. He let's off the smallest explosion to soften your blow but a small crack still rings out. 

Heated eyes watch as a black bruise blooms from the crease of his elbow to all the way to his wrist as the shock shakes the house behind him. Paintings and pictures fall from the walls in the wake of your force.

"Are you trying to bring down the house dumbass?!" He yells before his voice dips low, soft almost, "What if the roof had caved and Soba-san got hurt?" 

Your eyes widen at his words before they are locked with glistening scarlet pools. You look over Bakugou's toned arm, marred in angry shades of purplish black. Eyes darting over the family and the mess that lies beside you. Finally they fall on your grandmother behind your shoulder. Her own aged shoulders heave from the adrenaline, her graying white hair out of place with her lotus pin threatening to fall out. You spy Shoji, your once hero still squishing food beneath his torso and elbows, eyes filled with fear.

"Fuck this." You mutter storming off, leaving Bakugou to stand alone before your family. Shoji stands, rushing out of the house, moments later everyone can hear a car peeling down the gravel drive losing traction once or twice. 

After a few moments of silence grandmother fixes her hair and returns the naginata as she speaks. 

"This family cleans up their own messes. Now get to work!" 

And with that your family and Bakugou begin to pick up the shattered pieces of dishes, pride and family matters.

[sanjuno]

1859, bodyswap incident

Oh-ho… This is going to be so much fun. *cackles evilly*

Alert! Porn happens in the second half of the fill. ^_^

Freaky Friday Prompt Fill 3/13

Nobody was having a good day. Even Mukuro, as entertained as he had been at the beginning of the chain of events that had led them here, had reached the point where he was done playing around. The enemy they had been chasing, the mastermind behind the kidnapping of the Alliance’s younger Flame Users, had been revealed to be one of the Vongola’s own. A member of their research team, someone they had trusted with their secrets.

“Once I have your body, Vongola Decimo, the Alliance will have no choice but to serve me!” The wild-eyed man in the middle of the room cackled. “Blood of the Vongola is needed to use the Famiglia’s treasures, and once I am you that power will be mine!”

“Gee.” Tsuna’s stare drilled into the side of Mukuro’s head hard enough that the Mist started to lean away. “I wonder where he got that idea from.”“Kufufu, indeed.” Shifting casually out of the Sky’s arm range, Mukuro refused to meet Tsuna’s eyes. “What a silly plan.”

“I will not be mocked by a civilian child!” The strange gun was levelled at Tsuna’s chest. “I’ll show you!”

“Jyuudaime!” Hayato shoved Tsuna out of the way hard enough that the air left his lungs when he crashed into Mukuro. Dynamite in his hands but unlit, the bomber scowled as Kyouya swooped in on their enemy, tonfa out and ready. “Hibari, no! Get-”

The gun fired.

Hayato and Kyouya hit the ground.

“No!” Tsuna struggled up out of Mukuro’s hold, fire already blazing on his brow as he stared at his felled Guardians. “No!”

“Don’t get in the way!” The scientist screeched, red lights casting crazy shadows on his face.

The explosion flung the madman back to and halfway through the far wall. Tsuna stumbled to a stop, blinking at the space where his opponent had just been standing. Kyouya was on his feet, a mad whirl of Flames flaring around his body.

“Don’t mock Jyuudaime you traitor!” The Cloud spat, making a rude gesture that was aborted halfway through as Kyouya caught sight of the Storm Flames covering his tonfa. “… Ah che palle. He had Possession Bullets. I’m in the wrong body.”

Tsuna choked, covering the last of the distance quickly so he could look his Cloud Guardian in the eyes. This was just too strange. “Hayato-kun?”

Looking slightly sheepish, which was a very strange look indeed to see on Kyouya’s face, the other man coughed and hid the tell-tale tonfa behind his back. “It’s me, Jyuudaime. Please tell me it’s that damned carnivore in my body and not the asshole I just put through the wall.”

“Kufufufu, well, Kyouya-kun?” Mukuro nudged the still-prone body of Tsuna’s Storm Guardian with the butt of his trident. “Ky~ou~ya-ku~un, are you there?”

Hayato’s body twitched, and then staggered upright with a growl. Glaring at Mukuro, the other Guardian hissed. “… herbivore.”

“Ah!” Mukuro beamed and turned to call over his shoulder at Tsuna. “It’s Kyouya in there!”

Tsuna sighed, shoulders slumping in relief. “Oh thank the kami.”

“… hrk.” Kyouya swayed in place, face gone paper white and Hayato’s green eyes wide and shocked with pain. The Cloud Guardian coughed, blood bubbling from his mouth and streaking his chin before his eyes rolled back in his head. Hayato’s body promptly dropped like a sack of wet cement and Mukuro barely managed to lunge forward in time to keep the silver head from hitting the ground.

“Kyouya-sempai!” Tsuna scrambled over where his Mist was cursing and laying Hayato’s body out in the recovery position. “Hayato-kun, why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?“

Kyouya’s face did not lend itself well to Hayato’s usual expressions, but the Storm still managed to convey his confusion well enough. “Because I wasn’t hurt? What did that idiot do to my body? It’s been less than two minutes!”

Ignoring his Right Hand’s grumbling, Tsuna shook his head. “Mukuro, get Kyouya-sempai to the medics, tell them what happened. Hayato-kun, help me secure the traitor until Security gets here.”

/…/

Hibari Kyouya was in a great deal of pain. He was familiar with the burn of fatigue settled in his bones, the sharp flare of torn muscles and ripped tendons. Bruises and broken bones could be shrugged off, the ache of pulling scar tissue  could be worked away.

Having someone set off a shrapnel bomb in his guts to tear apart every internal organ from sternum to pelvis was another matter entirely.

Kyouya glared at the drip pumping painkillers into his bloodstream. He hated the fact that he was leaving the needle in. That he needed the drugs to dull the pain enough to stay conscious. Once Kyouya was back in his own body he was going to bite them all to death.

Tetsu was seated in the chair beside Kyouya’s bed, frowning down at his tablet but mercifully silent once the situation had been explained to him. His subordinate could take care of things while Kyouya was stuck in the wrong body.

The herbivores were bleating at one another in the corner of Kyouya’s hospital room. The bomb-herbivore was watching Kyouya with a strange expression. Kyouya wanted his tonfa back. The bomb-herbivore deserved to be bitten to death for stealing Kyouya’s body. Stupid herbivore body being so weak it broke just because Kyouya was in it.

This was pathetic. Kyouya was too strong for this weak herbivore body and he wanted out. Now.

The omnivore made the appalled shriek that meant he was making a point. “What do you mean there’s nothing wrong with Hayato’s body?”

“I mean what I said. All the tests show that aside from a few bruises picked up from falling over, Hayato’s body isn’t injured.” The Mist-pervert grumbled, one hand shoved into the pocket of his coat as he glowered down at his clipboard. “There’s no logical reason for him to be spitting blood!”

The wounded noise made the omnivore sound like the one who had been gutted. “Then why?”

“Idiot womanizer.” The bomb-herbivore growled with Kyouya’s voice, rolling his eyes as he stared at the mist-pervert. “For fucks sake, Shamal, it’s not new damage. It’s the side effect of surviving poison cooking.”

… What? Kyouya stared at the bomb-herbivore as the rest of the herd started bleating again.

“WHAT?” The omnivore was fluttering again. “Hayato-kun, you ate Bianchi-san’s cooking? When? You should have told me, I could have taken someone else with me on the investigation!”

“… Jyuudaime, I…” The bomb-herbivore’s face was blank except for a faint twitch by the corner of his eye as he breathed slowly. “I… I told you about this already, the first time you met Aneki. Remember? I was always fed her cooking when I was a kid, and it had permanent side effects. You seen me coughing up blood before. Like whenever I see Aneki’s face. The crazy carnivore could probably keep it under control with his Mist if he tried. Chrome’s going to have to explain how that trick works to him though, I use a different mix of Flames to deal with the damage.”

Tetsu shifted in his chair to stare at the bomb-herbivore and Kyouya glanced over. His subordinate looked horrified, but Kyouya was mostly stuck on the fact that the pain he was in was normal for the herbivore’s body. The bomb-herbivore always felt like this, all the time. When he fought, when he trained, when he organized the omnivore’s affairs. The pain that was keeping Kyouya in a hospital bed even with painkillers blunting the worst of it was normal for the bomb-herbovore.

Kyouya stared and silently, reluctantly, admitted to himself that he was impressed. For all the bomber’s dramatics, Kyouya had never suspected the truth.

The implications that came with a pain threshold this high were both intriguing and worrisome. What sort of creature would Gokudera Hayato become without this handicap holding him back? Kyouya would have to look into this when he had his own body back.

/…/

Now that his highly uncomfortable conversation with the Jyuudaime was over, Hayato dove into researching how to switch his mind back into his own body.

It was fascinating that Hayato still had access to all of his Flames despite being the the body of a Misty Cloud. Equally fascinating was the fact that Hayato still did not have access to Mist Flames.

“Flames do have a biological component, but that’s just… a trigger.” Muttering to himself as he moved from notebook to computer to the research files confiscated from the traitor’s lab, Hayato ignored the way his assistant was cowering in the far corner of his workroom. “You need a Flame Active bloodline to go Flame Active, that’s Nature. Neurology probably plays into things too, a bit, but… personality. Skies have Sky children because they’re raised with Sky values. Storms aren’t temperamental because they’re Storms, Storms are Storms because they’re temperamental. Flames Type expression is a result of nurture, rooted in the basic personality. Skies are rare because Harmony, abstract concept but inherently valuing the whole above the self, that’s not instinctive to many people.”

Hayato paused, staring into the distance as he tapped his pen against his bottom lip thoughtfully. “Humans are… selfish. Skies extend that selfishness to their Harmonies, they can’t help but be self-sacrificing because their harmonies are them. Lack of separation and loose boundaries, stronger Skies have less concept of themselves as individuals and instead base their value on the whole.  But… ch’. Inversion of Harmony isn’t disharmony, it’s bringing the separate Elements only into Harmony with the Sky’s desires instead of extending that Harmony to bring the whole into Harmony with itself. Inverted Skies make their Elements into slaves through enforced harmonious accord, True Skies bring their Elements into balance with one another to make cooperation and compromise easier.”

Pen flying over the notebook page, Hayato nodded to himself. “So… First Activation sets the Primary Flame, but growth is inherent in the human condition, achieving access to other Flame Types is possible with enough effort. Mentality still plays in, I can’t access any Mist because I rejected falsehoods entirely when I was a kid but Hibari basically lives in a reality of his own construction so it’s no wonder he developed a Mist Secondary… Still. This isn’t my body, this isn’t my brain. How am I accessing memory storage that’s in an entirely different meatspace? Like… hmm, wireless download through paired devices…”

Flipping through the file with the details of the possession bullet Hayato froze. “That’s it! That’s how it works! It’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard of and it would’ve backfired so BADLY I’m almost sorry it didn’t happen that way! Fuck this bullshit time to get my body back!”

Ignorant of the way his subordinate had thrown himself under the scant protection of the nearest desk when the wrong-bodied Storm started shouting, Hayato ran out of the room.

/…/

Gokudera’s abandoned chair crashed to the ground and the cowering man responsible for bringing the Decimo’s Right Hand the files he needed flinched like he was coming under fire. It took a few minutes before he gathered the courage to leave his hiding place.

Oh god, please let this be over soon. Hibari and Gokudera were terrifying enough on their own. Gokudera wearing Hibari’s body was leaking enough Storm Flames to leave holes in the Flame-resistant carbon-steel door.

/…/

They could feel Hayato coming long before they saw him. Already a category five hurricane packed down into human form, being in Kyouya’s body had let all that energy loose on the world. Tsuna could only be glad that he had already finished briefing Xanxus on the situation, because Hayato had been borderline Hyper Dying Will Mode ever since the body switch had taken place. Even now,  several hours since the incident, Hayato was still going strong and lighting up the air around him with an aurora of hazy rainbow of crimson-tinted Flames.

It was both impressive and terrifying, because if Hayato’s Flames were this strong right now, without any signs of running low… how bad was the damage to Hayato’s body that it took up such a large portion of his Storm’s strength?

“Holy fuck.” Xanxus stared as Hayato-in-Kyouya’s-body rounded the corner grinning like a maniac. “… That’s your Storm-trash? Where the fuck did he get all that fucking power from? Your Cloud-trash might be strong but he’s not that strong.”

“I know.” Tsuna winced, realizing once again how much of Hayato’s suffering that he had overlooked. How much of the Storm’s pain he had let Hayato gloss over and push aside without ever realizing how much the Storm was downplaying his own suffering. As Hayato’s Sky, it was an unforgivable mistake, but Tsuna knew that Hayato would never call him out on it. So Tsuna would just have to be better about taking care of Hayato from now on. Glancing at Xanxus to make sure the next message was heard, Tsuna tilted his head at his Storm. “That power? It’s all from Hayato’s Will.”

Xanxus blinked, the only outward sign of his surprise as Wrath stirred under his skin, testing the weight of the multihued Storm hanging thick in the air around them. The Varia Boss reached for his wine bottle. “… what the fuck, trash-brat.”

“… Yeah.” Oh yes, Xanxus had figured it out too. Tsuna grimaced and then turned just as Hayato reached them. “What is it, Hayato-kun?”

“Jyuudaime! I figured it out!” Hayato crowed in victory, bounding up to his Sky with his hands gesturing expansively in his excitement. “It’s so simple, I can’t believe it took me so long! Come on, Jyuudaime!”

“Ah?” Tsuna had half a second to blink at his Storm in bemusement before Hayato was hauling Tsuna down to corridor towards the infirmary by the arm. “Ack! Hayato-kun?”

“Seriously, Jyuudaime, I don’t get how that crazy carnivore can spend so much time sleeping his body is ridiculous do you have any idea how hard it is to concentrate when I’ve got this much energy I feel like someone injected one of lawn-head’s extreme motivational speeches directly into my bloodstream and I blew up my phone sorry about that my Lightning got out of hand somehow-” It was really, really disconcerting to see Kyouya’s face paired with Hayato’s gleeful expressions. Tsuna could only gape as the halls whipped by and Hayato just kept talking. “-so it’s a simple reset and with your Harmony we can reject this pathetic substitution of reality and enforce our own!”

/…/

In the end, the hardest part was getting Hayato to slow down enough to actually explain his revelation in full. Once that was done, it was a simple matter of Tsuna’s Harmony reinforcing the way his Guardian’s Flames wanted to be back in their own bodies. A few moments of concentration, then Kyouya and Hayato’s consciousnesses snapped back into their rightful places like releasing a rubber band.

“Hn.” Kyouya swayed, disoriented from the switch in perspective that came with going from lying down to standing up without going through the steps in between. A quick shake settled things down, and the Cloud swiftly hid any further signs of weakness.

“Madre di Dios, I’m glad that’s over with.” Hayato plucked the needle out of his arm, the overwhelming riot of his Flames sinking back under his skin as they were funnelled back along their usual channels. Ignoring the way Tsuna squeaked in protest, Hayato hopped out of the hospital bed without any sign of being affected by the numerous drugs that had been pumped into his bloodstream. “Does anyone know where the nurses put my clothes? And have we finished clearing the lab yet? The possession bullet isn’t as big a threat as we thought since the Flames can’t be switched, so any impersonator will end up caught fairly easily but making sure things get switched back is a pain. I wonder if there’s a way to block the process, maybe if… Jyuudaime?”

“Hayato.” Tsuna smiled brilliantly, keeping a gentle but immovable grip around his Storm’s wrist. “You aren’t going anywhere just yet. We obviously couldn’t preform any surgeries with Kyouya in your body, but now that you’re back where you belong we can get your stomach fixed.”

Hayato balked, tugging on his arm and frowning when Tsuna refused to loosen his grip. “But Jyuudaime, my research!”

“But Hayato, your chronic internal bleeding! Forget the research! Your health is more important!” Tsuna hissed as he glared at his Storm. “Do you know what Shamal found? Malnutrition! Muscle and nerve degeneration! Long-term starvation! Because your digestive tract is nothing but holes and scar tissue! You cough up blood unless you pour half your Flame capacity into just keeping your body functional! You will let the doctors fix you and that’s final.”

Hayato grimaced and looked away as he slumped in surrender. “… yes, Jyuudaime.”

Ignoring the way his Storm was sulking, Tsuna glanced at Kyouya. “Hibari-sempai, could you and Kusakabe-sempai take care of the rest of the investigation? I’m going to take Hayato to Shamal now.”

Kyouya blinked slowly as he watched the bomber for any sign of the debilitating pain that had kept Kyouya bed bound for the last six hours. The Storm continued to grumble that there was nothing wrong with him and that they were fussing over nothing and he had too much to do to be letting the pervert quack mess around with his insides he was fine. Still staring, Kyouya inclined his head. “Hn.”

“Thank you.” Relieved to have Kyouya’s cooperation, Tsuna smiled and then  turned a scolding look back on Hayato. “Stop arguing, Hayato, you know very well that you are not fine. You regularly cough up blood and I cannot believe I actually let you convince me that was normal for the love of all that’s holy, Hayato, why? Now come on we need to get this fixed…”

Tsuna’s dismayed rebuke and Hayato’s petulant protests continued as they left the room. Kyouya stared after them with a slight frown, one hand rising to press against his sternum.

… Kyouya was going to need to reassess the bomb herbivore.

/…/

Hayato had not enjoyed the last six months. Everyone had been treating him like glass after the poison damage issue had become common knowledge. Which was ridiculous because it only became common knowledge after the issue was corrected. So what if nobody had known about the details? It’s not like Hayato was hiding what had happened to him as a kid! There was a reason Hayato had run away from his father’s household!

Eight years old and starving and Hayato had held his own on the streets of Mafia Italy as an Independent Hitman. Surviving and building strength for six years until joining Tsuna’s Famiglia. Hayato had still held his own through the Ring Battles and time travel and the Arcobaleno Trials and everything else that had happened in the past five years to see Tsuna made Vongola Decimo in truth.

All this fussing about Hayato’s health was unnecessary and driving him crazy. Tsuna refused to give him any missions, Shamal was hovering, Bianchi had made more than one tearful apology, Mukuro was treating him like Hayato was Chrome, and even the cow-brat was running Hayato’s errands without throwing any tantrums!

Dios, who’s mother did Hayato need to insult in order to get a decent fight around here?

“Gokudera Hayato.” Stepping out to block the bomber’s path, Hibari blatantly looked Hayato over with a strange intensity in the Cloud’s silver gaze.

“What the fuck do you want, bastard?” Green eyes narrowed, and Hayato’s lip curled into a snarl. This was just another example of how people had started treating him differently since the body switch.

Obviously acting on behalf of his boss, Kusakabe had been very upfront about keeping track of Hayato’s health status, dropping by with sweetmeats meant to tempt Hayato into eating even after Hayato finally managed to shut people up about his weight and malnourishment issues. Privately, Hayato suspected that Kusakabe had gotten a few wires crossed because of seeing Kyouya suffering from Hayato’s health problems. Something in Kusakabe’s brain had latched onto keeping Hayato healthy equalling the same as keeping Hibari healthy with the singleminded focus of a Lightning.

At least Hayato could understand that much about the change how he was treated. It was the small, random gifts that were just odd enough to have to be Hibari’s idea that threw Hayato off stride. Hibari himself had been oddly gentle in the last few months, all but stalking Hayato’s movements and recovery but never once giving into Hyatt’s goads. If even Hibari refused to fight you then someone was informing a ban on sparring. The worst part was the way everyone was obeying the ban.

None of them ever obeyed a fighting ban! It was a conspiracy! They wanted to drive Hayato mad with boredom!

Case in point, the narrow eyed consideration with which Hibari appraised Hayato’s combat ready stance. “The pain has eased.”

“The pain was never all that bad! You assholes are all overreacting.” Hayato scowled harder to mask the surprise he felt over Hibari’s consideration. It looked like the old adage about walking a mile in another’s shoes held true. Hibari looked almost concerned about Hayato, under the blank-faced apathy. “What the fuck do you want, carnivore?”

“Hn.” Apparently satisfied by what he saw, Hibari’s teeth pulled back from his teeth, feral and challenging. “Bite you to death.”

“Ah, cazzo.” Hayato flung himself aside to avoid the blazing tonfa, rolling to his feet and flinging a line of sparking flash bangs in return. Anticipation had Hayato grinning in fierce satisfaction. “Ha! Took you long enough to get over it, you crybaby carnivore!”

Snarling, Hibari threw himself at the cackling Storm. Flames rose around them as they clashed, wild and raging like a hurricane.

/…/

BOOM!

“What’s going on?!” Tsuna scrambled uptight even as the walls shook hard enough to clear off dust. “Is that… is that Hayato and Kyouya-sempai? What are they doing?”

Pop-pop! Pop-pop! BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!

“Ah, looks like the chairman finally made his move.” Kusakabe did not say ‘whoo! Go get it’ but the sentiment was implied, although it was more implied through his Flames and Tsuna’s Intuition than any outward signs. “I hope Haya-san treats Kyou-san well.”

BOOM-B-BOOM! BOOM!

A chandelier swung too far and wrenched free of the ceiling, falling to the floor with a thunderous crash of breaking crystal and shattered tiles. In the brief silence afterwards, Tsuna stared Kusakabe with blank, uncomprehending horror. “… Kyouya-sempai is doing what? Oh kami-sama, poor Hayato…”

/…/

“Ahk!” Hayato was slammed into the ground on his back, and Kyouya drove both his tonfa into the ground to either side Hayato’s head. Chips of stone flew up with a crack, craters blooming under the force of the twin blows, and Hayato glared as a thin line of blood opened up on his temple.

“Wao.” Kyouya looked pleased, eyes flicking down to where Hayato held a dagger to the Cloud’s ribs. The fabric of Kyouya’s jacket was already being eaten away by Storm Flames, skin skin dimpled under the blade. For a moment, the only sound was their breathing, still loud and harsh from the violence of their spar. Kyouya’s hair was more of a mess than usual, his lip split from where Hayato had kicked him in the teeth about three minutes in, and the Cloud’s eyes were hot with unappeased bloodlust.

“Heh.” Violence had always been a good look for Kyouya, and Hayato appreciated the chance to look his fill. It was still a surprise when Kyouya released his grip on his tonfa, leaving them implanted in the ground. Holding Hayato’s gaze, Kyouya reached for the hand holding the knife. Ignoring the hungry bite of Storm Flames, Kyouya pulled Hayato’s hand up to his face. Hot breath, soft tongue, and the firm grip of teeth over his pulse point.

The dagger dropped from slack fingers, and Kyouya’s smirk was all pleased triumph as Hayato’s breath caught. Cocking his head to one side, Kyouya dragged his mouth away from Hayato’s skin with a satisfied hum. “Yes?”

“You…” Hayato snarled, fisting his raised hand in the hair behind Kyouya’s ear, dragging the Cloud into a kiss that was full of nipping teeth and tasted strongly of copper. Trapping Kyouya’s lower lip between his teeth and slowly pulling away, points dragging over the soft flesh. Kyouya shifted, arm curling around Hayato’s waist to pull him closer even as Kyouya pressed his knee between Hayato’s thighs. Moaning, Hayato ground his hips up into Kyouya’s body. “Fuck, you had better mean this, you fucking carnivore.”

“Yes.” Kyouya hissed, pressing biting kisses to Hayato’s neck and revelling in the borderline-harsh way Hayato pulled on his hair. “Mine now.”

“Aa, but not here.” Hayato purred, pulling Kyouya away from his neck and ignoring the unhappy growl. “Get me somewhere private, carnivore, and we can fuck for as long as you like.”

“I’ll hold you to that, little falcon.” The world spun around him and Hayato found himself slung over Kyouya’s shoulder as the Cloud stalked away from the scene of their battle. There was a possessive hand stoking Hayato’s ass, and the Storm could only snicker breathlessly.

Well, this was one way to get Kyouya inside him again.

/…/

Tetsuya was happy for the chairman, even if he would prefer that Kyou-san and Haya-san keep their bedroom activities private. Thankfully, Haya-san seemed to agree with Tetsuya about what was acceptable for pubic display and what was indecent.

Haya-san caught sight of Tetsuya and Tsuna-sama as he was carried off, and poison green eyes narrowed in flash of irritation. If Tetsuya was reading Haya-san correctly, the Storm did not appreciate having an audience to the resolution of Kyou-san’s courtship efforts. “I can stab you in the kidneys from here.”

Kyou-san’s face did a weird thing, and Tetsuya realized that this was what ‘besotted’ looked like on a carnivore. “… wao.”

In his distress, Tsuna-sama made a helpless noise a bit like a deflating squeaky ball. Tetsuya patted him on the back and gently started pushing him in the opposite direction. It would do everyone good to avoid that wing of the mansion for a few hours.

Or a few days.

Kyou-san had gotten really invested in Haya-san over the last few months, and it was probably a good idea to let them work things out between them without any interruptions.

/…/

The door to Kyouya’s personal suite was still in the process of swinging shut when Kyouya ran out of patience.

Sliding off Kyouya’s shoulder, Hayato’s back hit the wall hard enough to knock a grunt out of him, the breathy sound caught by Kyouya’s tongue and morphing into a guttural moan without pause. Kyouya’s hands dug into the underside of Hayato’s thighs, and the Storm wrapped his legs around the Cloud’s waist without hesitation. Dragging his nails up Kyouya’s neck, Hayato rolled his body against Kyouya’s and was stupidly pleased by the snarled groan the move pulled from the Cloud’s throat.

“Mine.” Kyouya’s teeth scored the side of Hayato’s neck, possessive claims muttered almost absently between the heady mix of marking bites and deep kisses. Strong hands gripped Hayato’s ass, spreading him even as Kyouya ground their cocks together through the layers of their clothing.

“Nnh, yes, Kyouya!” This close, Hayato could see exactly how wide Kyouya’s pupils were blown, dark and avid with desire. Hayato writhed, pinned to the wall by the strength of Kyouya’s body. His clothes were stifling, a barrier between Hayato and what he wanted. Kyouya’s fingers pressed up against his crease, pulling fabric tight against Hayato’s balls as the seams strained, threads popping.

Breath catching, Hayato’s hole clenched down on nothing. The savage yearning to have that emptiness filled drove all other thoughts out of Hayato’s mind. He needed Kyouya, and they needed to be naked now.

Storm Flames flashed over and between them, the abused layers of fabric disintegrated, leaving them bare of everything except their boots.

“Fuck, yes.” Hayato shivered at the press and slide of bare skin on skin. Cloud Flames billowed up around them, Kyouya’s Will wrapping around Hayato’s Storm even as Mist coated fingers pressed against his twitching entrance. “Kyouya, stop teasing. Nnh!”

“Patience.” Kyouya chided, Flames coiling higher with savage delight as Hayato clawed at his shoulders. “Pretty falcon. You want it.”

“You know I want it you, ff-ah!” Hayato muffled a scream against Kyouya’s shoulder, teeth digging in hard enough to leave lasting marks as his hips surged mindlessly. Kyouya’s fingers were rubbing, pulling at his hole from the outside even as almost-solid pulses of Mist filled him. “Kyou… Kyouya! Nnh!”

“Soon.” The Mist left Hayato hollowed out and aching, with a burning need to be filled driven to a frenzied yearning with the sound of Kyouya’s rough hunger in his ear. Hayato gasped for air, his hole hot and slick like Kyouya had been working him for hours. Kyouya hitched Hayato higher up the wall, elbows hooked under knees, all but folding Hayato in half before plunging two fingers as deep as they could go. “There.”

“Come on, you-nh! Please. Kyou-ah!” Shoulders braced against the wall, Hayato dug his heels into Kyouya’s back as the fingers inside him spread wide, pulling at his rim until Hayato could feel lube escaping with every twitch of his hole. Biting back the whine building in his chest, Hayato pulled Kyouya closer, shivering as another wild surge of Flame rolled over him. “I’m ready, I’m ready, Kyouya, please-!”

Hayato keened into Kyouya’s mouth. A series of sharp, broken cries that escaped the press of their lips. Kyouya’s cock slid through the wet mess of lube coating Hayato’s inner thighs, the tip catching on the forced gape of his rim. The wide flare of the head pushed through, spreading him open. Hayato’s eyes rolled back as Kyouya bottomed out, thick shaft buried to the root and their Flames so thoroughly entwined there was no way to tell them apart.

“Kyouya…” Pinned and empaled, Hayato could only whimper in frustration as Kyouya watched him writhe helplessly. Baring his neck, Hayato pressed his cock to his stomach with one hand, keeping the other wrapped around the back of Kyouya’s neck. So full. He was so full. Kyouya’s cock was perfect, thick and hard, stretching him so wide his hole could only twitch as he tried to clench down around the invasion. “Kyouya, come on, please, fuck me you need to fuck me, caro mio, please, I need you-!”

“So impatient.” Kyouya growled, slick fingers curling between Hayato’s thighs to leave a trail of purple sparks from stretched pink rim to the leaking tip of his cock. Hayato screamed, back arching as his sensitivity trebled, pleasure whiting out his vision as Kyouya shoved a fraction deeper before pulling back to thrust in full.

Each forceful push drove the air out of Hayato’s lungs, sensation drowning out thought. His cock was a leaking mess, pulsing under slack fingers as Hayato struggled to keep his eyes open. Kyouya was beautiful in the throes of passion, wild and almost feral and eyes locked on Hayato.

A tiny smirk, and the look on Kyouya’s face straddled the line between passion and devotion. Hayato read the truth in his new lover’s Flames and felt his breath catch. Orgasm crashed over him, forcing a cry from Hayato’s throat as his cock pulsed and his body clenched.

Seconds or an eternity later, Hayato came back to himself and realized that Kyouya had paused. Which was a tragedy. There was a gentle touch against Hayato’s face, catching a tear, and a concerned murmur. “… falcon?”

“Kyouya…” Hayato sighed, doing his best to force trembling limbs into cooperation so he could hold Kyouya closer. “Keep going, please…”

A flicker of calculation passed over Kyouya’s face before Cloud Flames surged. Hayato squeaked, clinging to Kyouya as the powerful thrusts rocked up into his slack body. Kyouya’s fingers dug into his ass, spreading him wide as Kyouya took him mercilessly. Hayato sobbed as the pleasure built once again, and Kyouya lapped up the fresh tears with a growl before taking Hayato’s mouth in a messy kiss.

A deliberate flare of Cloud Flames, and between one thrust and the next Kyouya’s cock swelled larger. A shocked scream broke on the next thrust, overwhelmed cries greedily consumed as the Cloud’s enlarged cock battered Hayato’s abused prostate with every rock of their hips. Kyouya lifted one of Hayato’s legs higher over his shoulder, fingers tracing Hayato’s wide-stretched rim.

Another pulse of Flames, and Kyouya’s cock grew larger again. Hayato’s voice cut out, lights flashing behind his eyes. Kyouya’s fingers pressed against his perineum, assaulting his nerves from the outside and increasing his sensitivity. Their Flames meshed together, carrying passion and pleasure and driving them higher with every breath.

Hayato’s hand clenched on the back of Kyouya’s neck, Sun sparking from the tips of his fingers. Kyouya snarled, kissing Hayato savagely as he slammed his cock as deep into Hayato’s body as he could get, thick pulses of cum filling him further. A high pitched whine was trapped in Hayato’s throat as Kyouya pumped into his body, small thrusts lazy and satiated as the Cloud came down from his orgasm.

Still grinding his hips into Hayato’s ass, cock left in place to keep the bomber’s ass plugged full of cum, Kyouya purred in satisfaction. Hayato whimpered, mouth slack and eyes glazed as Kyouya rolled his balls and thumbed the base of his cock. A thread of Mist lanced out, wrapping around Hayato’s oversensitive prostate and squeezing. “Come.”

“Kyouya!” Hayato wailed as pleasure ripped through him, hyperaware of the weak flutter of his rim around Kyouya’s cock and the drape of his limbs around Kyouya’s body. Kyouya sank his teeth into the skin of Hayato’s throat, riding out the surge of the Storm’s second orgasm with satisfaction writ clearly in the lines of his face.

“So pretty, little falcon.” Kyouya murmured into the curve of Hayato’s shoulder, working on leaving one more mark on the shivering skin before pulling away. Reluctantly, Kyouya pulled his cock free of Hayato’s body, watching with shameless hunger as his cum leaked from the gaping hole. Hayato squirmed weakly, a soft moan leaving him as Kyouya pressed four fingers back into his body. “Look at how well you take me.”

“You, mnh! You make it worth the, ah, effort, caro.” Hayato fell forward against Kyouya’s chest, clinging tight as the Cloud toyed lazily with his trembling body. “Who, mmn, who’ve you been practicing with.”

“No one important.” Sharp and to the point, and Hayato blinked at the thought that Kyouya might be trying to be clear with his intentions. Without warning, Kyouya lifted Hayato away from the wall. Hayato squeaked in surprise as he was carried across the suite and into the bedroom.

He was dropped on the bed, and blinked at the sudden loss of skin contact. Kyouya looked Hayato over with appreciation, before looking at his feet and barking a short laugh. “You left your boots?”

“I like these boots.” Hayato shrugged carelessly, but his time on the streets had taught him the value of a good pair of boots, so he was perfectly willing to fuck with his boots on. Kyouya just looked amused and wordlessly pulled the boots off Hayato’s feet. The second boot hit the floor with a thump and Kyouya proceeded to flip Hayato over onto his front. Hayato shivered as Kyouya pressed him down into the mattress, Kyouya’s cock hard against his ass and Kyouya’s teeth sharp against the back of his neck. “Again? You- now?”

“Now, my pretty falcon.” Kyouya growled into Hayato’s ear as he thrust deep in a single unrelenting push. “We’ll see how much of me your body can handle.”

I SPENT FAR TO MUCH TIME MAKING THE WALL SEX HAPPEN BUT FUCK MY LAZY PORN MUSE I AM THE GOD OF THIS UNIVERSE AND I WILL BE OBEYED!

Anyway here @nightmare-aoife I wrote you a thing. It only took me forever. XD

[kuriquinn]

Sex Ed [5/5]

Blanket Fic Disclaimer

Prompt: Rereading chapter 19 of Unplanned, and I sorta want a story about the aftermath of Sarada accidentally crushing a partner during her first time because she didn't get Sakura's advice. Specifically, I want Sasuke's reaction. Him being confused and not knowing whether to be angrily protective or sympathetic. I think that has the potential to be hilarious.- Anon

Author’s Note: I had to change the injury a bit, and I didn’t get all of your prompt in this chapter, but if you’ve read the previous ones, parts of your request were in there too. There were a surprising amount of people who wanted to see Sarada’s sex mishaps, so I tried to get everyone’s request somewhere in the fic. I hope this (and the previous chapters) has been to your liking :)

Warning: In this universe, Sarada is bisexual, and her parents are very supportive of her, thank you very much.

First Chapter

“Are you going out?”

Sasuke pauses in the act of slipping into his shoes and glances up at Sakura, wandering down the hallway and buttoning her tunic the rest of the way up. “Yes. One of the officers at the police station says he found some of my family’s old files. He wanted to know if I wanted the hard copies.”

“Well that was nice of him. What are they, old case files?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, call me if you need anything,” she tells him, and as usual there’s the implicit reminder that if it’s too hard for him to do on his own, she’ll be there in an instant. He nods, grateful, but doesn’t take her up on it.

“Since Sarada’s apartment is along the way, would you take her that basket of vegetables in the kitchen?” Sakura asks as she shrugs into her coat. “It’s all fresh from the garden. And you know what those girls are like. Leave them alone long enough, and they’ll live off of cup ramen and poki. I’d take it myself, but I’m already late, thanks to a certain someone.”

“You weren’t complaining an hour ago,” he answers mildly, but heads to the kitchen anyhow.

“I wasn’t late an hour ago,” Sakura replies, straining up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “I’ll see you tonight, if there are no world-ending crises.”

“Hm.”

They leave the house together and part ways on the street, Sakura heading to the hospital and Sasuke to the police station.

It’s been quieter around the house since Sarada moved out, even if she was never a really loud child to begin with. Barring her rough teenage years and occasional temper, she was rather like Sasuke as a teenager, but a lot less prone to vengeance fuelled vendettas. Sasuke misses having her around, even though she lives within walking distance.

It’s not exactly common place for young people to move in with roommates in the village (at least it wasn’t when he was younger; most people lived at home with their parents until they got married), and as much as he disliked the notion when Sarada brought it up, he has to admit that her having her own place has made their relationship better.

Much as she is the light of his life, there are certain aspects of their life together he doesn’t miss.

Such as dealing with awkward situations or information that a father should not be privy to when it comes to his daughter. He doesn’t have to worry about her safety, because Chōchō and Wasabi are just as brash and protective of Sarada as he is. And she hasn’t had another boyfriend in a year, which is also a relief.

None of them are good enough for her anyway, and if she intends to be Hokage, she shouldn’t have more distractions than necessary. She’s already going to have to work harder than before because Naruto is still a bit ticked off about his son’s broken penis. He and Sasuke have come to literal blows about the whole matter, considering Boruto was just as involved in causing that injury as Sarada was.

Eventually the dobe will get his head out of his ass about the whole thing; maybe if he spent more time at home with his family his kid would have known how not to get injured during sex.

As for Sasuke, without Sarada living at home, he and Sakura can have sex again whenever they want instead of waiting for their daughter to be away on a mission or at a friend’s house. He’d be lying if he hasn’t been waiting twenty years for a return to that status quo at least.

Logically speaking, there’s no downside to the arrangement.

When he reaches the apartment, he dutifully knocks and waits for a response; as far as he knows, Sarada isn’t scheduled for any missions this week so she should be home. Which is why he frowns when he doesn’t get a response.

Glancing at the basket in his hands, he considers for a moment just leaving it outside the door, but discards it a moment later. Any co-tenant or stray animal can get to it here, and he doesn’t like the idea of Sarada living off ramen any more than her mother does.

Naruto has had way too much influence on his daughter.

I’ll go through the window and put it in the kitchen, he decides, knowing this course of action won’t take but a minute.

It seems the most simple idea, and it’s nothing to slip into the kitchen and place the basket on the table. He considers leaving a note for a moment, and then—

“Oh, yes! Right there!”

Sasuke feels a chill like ice creep down his spine at his daughter’s voice echoing from the living room.

No. No, for fucks sake, this cannot be happening. No. Not again.

In a panic, he seeks an easy exit, at the same time castigating himself for such an amateur mistake. This isn’t a covert mission to steal documents, it’s a visit to his daughter’s place of residence. He should have called ahead. And knocked. And announced his presence.

Possibly with a bullhorn.

He’s about to make his escape, when the relative silence is broken by a familiar crack, followed by a girl’s sharp yell of pain.

“Wasabi?” Sarada cries a moment later. “Wasabi, are you alright?!”

“My hips…they…ow!” the other girl gasps. “And I can’t…can’t feel my legs. Ah, stop moving!”

“I’ll fix it, just let me get out from under—”

“No—ow! Don’t move—”

“I can’t help you when I’m lying on my back, just let me—”

“DON’T MOVE, IT HURTS!”

There’s a sharp, panting gasp of someone trying to breath through the pain.

Broken pelvis, Sasuke decides, wincing out of empathy. He’s had that particular injury before, and from similar circumstances. Except, lucky for him, he was on the bottom and it was the work of a minute for Sakura to fix it.

Speaking of…

“If I don’t move, we’re both going to be stuck here!”

“Stop…talking…!” the other girl growls through the pain. “It’s making it worse.”

Sasuke sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Why? Why is it always me? Why is Sakura never on hand when Sarada gets herself into situations like this?

A mental image pops up of his wife furiously reminding him of her miserable nine-month-morning sickness and a ruined vagina.

Oh. Right.

Though, personally he doesn’t know what she’s complaining about (he has no issues with her vagina as it is), he can acknowledge that she went through the most difficult bit of bringing their daughter into the world. Perhaps this is the universe’s way of balancing karma or something.

He considers this and thinks he might have preferred to be the one to give birth. At least then it would have been over with in less than a day…

“Fuck…”

There’s utter silence in the next room.

“…Dad?” The word is timid and questioning, hope mingled with humiliation. “Are you there?”

Thunk!

Sasuke lets his head fall against the hallway wall in defeat.

“Yes. I was dropping off vegetable from your mother,” he says eventually. “Do you need help?”

Panicked silence, the sound of Sarada whispering and Wasabi snaps, “Yes we want his help!”

Well, at least this one has sense. If they don’t break up over this incident, maybe she can teach his daughter some. “Are you both…decent?”

“Sarada, if you don’t get your old man in here now, I will bite through your jugular and—!”

The rest of the diatribe is cut off like a record hauled off the turntable; there’s rustling sound and then Sarada squeaks, “Come in.”

Cautiously, Sasuke peeks around the doorway to assess the situation.

The girls are still in a tangle of limbs, but Wasabi is unconscious—Genjutsu. Hmph. Well, at least she’s learned something—and a heavy burden draped across Sarada’s (mercifully hidden) body. His daughter has somehow managed to arrange a quilt and a discarded shirt to cover any flesh that he doesn’t want to see, but she’s still trapped underneath her—

Roommate? Girlfriend? Partner?

If he thinks about questions like that, he doesn’t have to focus too much on yet another embarrassing situation.

“We’ll move her carefully so as not to do any further damage,” Sasuke tells Sarada; decades of marriage to Sakura have taught him enough about fractures to be wary. Then he adds conversationally, “Have you considered becoming a monk?”

She scowls at him, blowing a lock of Wasabi’s hair out of her face. “Monks don’t have sex.”

“Exactly. And they lead perfectly fulfilling lives and don’t injure anyone.”

“Or you could tell me how you and mom have managed.”

“No,” Sasuke says immediately. That is a conversation for her and your mother, one which he doesn’t want to know if it ever happens or not. That is where he draws the line.

Yes, he gets the irony in that, considering he’s trying to carefully move his daughter’s – paramour? Lover?— off of said daughter without injuring her spine or any internal organs. But really, at this point, enough is enough.

“If I had my time back, I’d have insisted your mother train you in medical ninjutsu,” he tells her. “Clearly learning better chakra control would have benefitted you more than wielding a sword.”

“Very funny,” Sarada grumbles, tugging the quilt across her torso a little tighter as Sasuke starts to move the other woman off her. “I could always just date someone invulnerable. Then it wouldn’t be a problem.” She thinks about this for a moment, and then her face brightens in speculation. “Come to think of it, Mitsuki—”

“No,” Sasuke cuts her off, shifting the other girl enough that Sarada can get out and closing his eyes tight. “Now get dressed and help me stabilize her so we can get to the hospital.”

He hears her moving around the living room, grabbing articles of clothing; a second later, he senses her presence right beside him and then feels a quick peck on his temple.

“Thanks for rescuing me again, Dad,” she tells him solemnly, and then flounces from the room.

Sasuke just sighs.

It’s not easy being the ‘dad’…

終わり

Phew! Well, that’s officially the longest thing I’ve written in a long time. And it was a lot of fun. I hope everyone liked it ^_^ I’m exhausted now, though, so I probably won’t have it all edited nicely and on ao3/ffnet until next week. Think I’m gonna rest my brain a few days.

Thanks for reading, guys!

クリ

[tntwme]

Girls’ Night

Absolutely none of this is my work - I read this little scene in another favorite series of mine (Black Dagger Brotherhood by JR Ward and her spin-off series Black Dagger Legacy - I cannot recommend them enough!) and thought it would be great if our favorite characters from ACOTAR (by Sarah J Maas) were in it.  This part is specifically from JR Ward’s book, Blood Kiss.  I hope you laughed as much as I did when I read this scene, and enjoy it with the ACOTAR characters!

****************************************************

Nesta looked over at the archway from the library desk she had been stuck at for the past two weeks.  She never realized being the Emissary of Prythian for the Human Realm would entail so much work.  Standing together in the archway were Feyre, Elain, and Amren, glasses of wine and plumed pens in their hands.

“We’re prepared to scribe up and help with the invitations,” Feyre said.  “And then we’ve asked for dinner on special service, because we’re doing girls’ night with a movie upstairs in the theater.”

“Magic Mike XXL just came out on DVD,” Amren chimed in.  “We have a moral obligation to support the arts, even if they’re just the human ones.”

“I haven’t seen the first one,” Elain murmured.  “They tell me his pelvis is double-jointed.  Is that true?”

Amren came forward and took the paperwork out of Nesta’s hands.  “Come on, you look like you need a girls’ night.  Cresseida and Mor are joining us.  So are Viviane and Nuan.  We’re getting all of us together - it’s about time.”

For a split second, Nesta felt guilty about easing into the friendship that was being offered.  It seemed….too frivolous when she thought about all she wasn’t able to do for everyone else.

Feyre leaned in.  “We’ve told the males that they can’t come in.  Mostly because if they see that Channing guy up on the big screen - “

Amren finished, “ -we’re going to need to do a remodel after they’re done with things.”

“Back to the double-jointed business,” Elain kicked in.  “I mean, how does he walk?”

“Very well, sister.”  As Feyre answered, she put an arm around Nesta’s shoulders.  “Very, very well.”

Then they began setting down ink jars and papers and handed Nesta a glass of wine, who began to blink fast.  Part of the emotion was relief at a break from all the work she had been buried under.  The other half was a gratitude so great, her chest could barely contain the emotion.

“Ladies,” she said, putting her arm around Feyre’s waist.  “Let’s do the addressing quickly - so we can get to the undressing.”

****

“I’m sorry….they’re doing WHAT?”

As Cassian spoke, he looked at the males-only group sitting around the mansion’s dining room table.  Not one of his brothers or any of the other males were laughing or talking loudly.  The bunch of sad sack losers was just sitting in front of half-eaten plates and untouched glasses of vodkas, bourbon and whiskey like a roll call of basset hounds who’d lost their anti-depressants.

Not what he’d expected to find as he came late to dinner.

When Nesta had texted him and told him she was working with the females on something, it had seemed like a good idea to take care of some trainee stuff.

He hadn’t banked on this funeral thing just because the ladies were doing a project.

“Hello?”  he demanded.  “You guys lost your hearing along with your sac or something?”

Rhys inhaled like he was about to break the news of a death in the family.  “They’re having a movie night.”

Cassian rolled his eyes and went over to his chair.  Yeah, it was a little weird to sit down without his Nesta by his side, but for Cauldron’s sake, it was nothing to go Prozac over.  Besides, he was glad his female had friends in the house-

“They’re watching Magic Mike,” someone said.

“Is that a children’s show?”  He started filling his plate with heaping piles of lamb.  “Varian, pass the salt over here, would-“

Cassian stopped talking as he realized the entire table of males was looking at him.  “What?”

“You haven’t heard of Magic Mike?”  Lucien demanded.

“No.”  He leaned back again as Azriel handed him a drink.  “Thanks.  Is it like Barney?”

“It’s about strippers,” Lucien countered.

Cassian frowned and lowered his glass from his lips.  “I’m sorry?”

Kallias came in from the pantry with a scowl like somebody had shot his favorite fox courier.

“Naked,” Kallias muttered as he sat where Nesta should have been.  “Buck-ass naked.  And they’re humans.  Cauldron, it’s like being shown up by a pack of dogs.”

“In thongs,” someone else bitched.  “Dogs in thongs.”

Cassian followed through on taking a drink this time, swallowing the burn, welcoming the heat in his gut.  Okay, fine, it was a bit of a surprise to find that he kept going until the glass was empty, but hey, he had a lot to think about.  On one level, the fact that his mate was watching a movie with her buddies, even if it did involve some nakey, really wasn’t a big deal.

On another level, he wanted to find the electrical box and cut the power to that part of the mansion.

Then torch the DVD.  And the screen.

And take his mate to bed just to show her all the tricks he had over some actor in a - oh, Cauldron, a thong?

“It’s fine,” he heard himself say as he motioned to Az for a refill.  “I mean, first of all, they love us - and second, it’s not like it’s an X rated -“

“They show a cock pump,”  Helion said with a wide smile, like he was helping.  “And in action.  You know, it’s on a cock and it’s pumping-“

Kallias unsheathed a dagger from somewhere and pointed the thing a Helion’s head.  “You keep talking like that and I’ma trim your hair.  With my eyes closed.”

Helion laughed.  “Yeah, whatever, big boy.  I thought you had more mojo than to get worked up over something like this.  You really that insecure?”

“You want insecure,” Kallias said.  “I’ll make you-“

“Okay, okay,”  Cassian cut in.  “Leave it, Kallias.  It’s fine, it’s great - they’re just enjoying themselves.  What’s wrong with that?  It’s not like they’re sleeping with the guy.”

“You sure about that?”  Helion smiles.  “You don’t think they’re fantasizing about-“

The collective growl that rose up from the males was so loud, it managed to agitate the crystals in the enormous chandelier hanging over the table.  And the Lord of Day Court was an idiot, but he wasn’t stupid.

Moving slowly, like there were multiple guns pointed at him, he put his hands up in submission.  “Sorry.  Whatever.  I’ll stop before all this lame-ass uncomfortability you bunch of morons are sporting kills me.”

“Wise choice,” Cassian said dryly.  “Not that I wouldn’t mind hitting you right now.  Although that’s not specific to this sitch.”

Helion went back to eating, shoving food in his face.

The other males weren’t so quick to do a reset on things, those narrowed eyes still trained on the male with the big mouth.

“Come on, boys, it’s fine.”  Cassian said.  He cut a piece of lamb off and put it in his mouth.  “Mmmm.  Delish.”

In reality, the stuff tasted like cardboard, but he made a show of the yummies.  He couldn’t keep it up, though.

Two minutes later, he was shoving a full plate away and nursing his second whiskey.  “Really.  They should have a little independence.  They don’t need to be locked at our hips.  It’s about time they do something just for them.  This is great.”

Next to him, Kallias glared.  “Is it.  You like the idea of Nesta looking at some other male’s junk?”

“It’s not X-rated-“ As his voice squeaked, he cleared his throat.  “I mean, it couldn’t be…no, it’s not-“

“I already checked,”  Lucien muttered.  “They have the DVDs - they’re probably watching the extended, uncut versions.”

“So the strippers aren’t circumcised?”  Helion put his palms up again before the growling got even worse.  “Cauldron, you guys are SO damn touchy.”

Cassian shook his head and decided the prick was on his own.  “So, yeah, I mean, a little gyrating - a pec pump or two.  It’s nothing to get worked up over.”  Gesturing to a servant by the door, he said, “Can I have a refill over here?”

“Of course.  Would anyone care for dessert?”

Cassian glanced at Varian.  “What do you say there, Vari?”

When Varian just swished his ginger ale around in his glass, Cassian cursed and said to the servant, “This one here will have some even if no one else does.”

“Bring me the dessert,” Varian spoke up.

The servant bowed.  “But of course, sire.  I shall fix you a plate-“

“No.  I want the whole dessert.  All of the cake and all of the ice cream.”

Annnnnnnnnnndd that was how Varian ended up with a morose audience of however many playing witness to his consuming fifteen small chocolate cakes and two gallons of vanilla ice cream.  

It was like watching paint dry, except there was no chemical smell and the room was the same color before and after.

The good news was that the booze was doing its job, fuzzing out Cassian’s mind, making his body both numb and horny.  “May I have another?” he asked a passing servant who was removing the final chocolate-smudged plate.  “Thank you very much.”

When his glass came back, he pushed his chair away from the table.  “I’m out.  I’ve got some work to do.”

And no offense to any of them, but hanging around their vibe was just making him more depressed.  Any more of this and he was going to start braiding the noose.

Walking out, he paused in the grand foyer.  Looked up the stairs.  Tried to imagine his Nesta ogling some actor in his underwear.

“Really, it’s fine.  Good for her.”

He took his phone out and called up their text string.  Hesitating, he thought he’d just send her something, you know, to remind her that….

Wow.

In years past, he would never have given a shit about something like this.  Nesta wasn’t only the love of his life; she was a female of worth who would never cheat on him.  And hello, it wasn’t like she’d checked into a seedy motel with the guy, for fuck’s sake.  She was hanging with her friends just like he hung out with his.

This was ridiculous.

He was NOT the jealous type-

The sound of boots approaching had him glancing over his shoulder.  It was Varian, and the male had a frothy glass of Alka-Seltzer in his hand.

Varian looked up the stairs.  And dollars for dipshits, he was thinking exactly what Cassian was.

“I’m going up,” the male announced.

“Now wait, wait, wait.”  Cassian grabbed that males huge forearm and squeezed. “It’s not like you can just burst in there.”

“Why not?”

“It’s girls’ night.”

“So I’ll put on a dress.”

“Fucking hell, Varian.  REALLY?”

Next out were Kallias, Lucien and Azriel.  And then everyone else, including Rhys and Thesan, who, in spite of not being officially mated, was right there along the hound-faced rest of them.

“We are NOT going up there,”  Cassian announced.  “We’re going to go play some pool, and get drunk, and talk about all the training we accomplished at the camps.  We’re going to have a great fucking day - night, whatever the fuck it is.  Now pick your balls up off the floor and let’s start behaving like men.”

*****

“He has skills.  I’m just saying.”

As Viviane spoke up, the captivated audience that was focused on the big screen was in total, very unmuted agreement.

Nuan let out another of her now-trademark wolf whistles.

Amren cursed and threw more Milk Duds at the image, yelling, “Damn, son, you get that shit!  You get it!”

Nesta just laughed again.  She couldn’t decide what was more amusing, the movies or the company - probably the company.  Although the humans were not hard on the eyes, she had to admit.

And then it was time for another round of hooting and hollering.

Cauldron, she couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed this hard.  There was something about being with the girls that made the jokes both worse and better at the same time, and the giggling louder, and the silliness more stupid.

All of which was a very beautiful thing, as it turned out.

It also reminded her of how great it was to be accepted for exactly who she was, no external expectations laid on her, no shortfalls she hadn’t volunteered cutting her down.  No judgement, just love.

Plus a number of naked guys who were almost as hot as her male?  Not a hardship.

When the final scene was over and the credits started to roll, they clapped like the actors could hear them all the way out in California.

“Can you teach me how to whistle like that?”  someone asked Nuan.

“You just put two lips around your fingers and blow,” the female replied.

“Isn’t that a line from a movie?”  somebody else chimed in.

“Are they doing a third one-“

“Magic Mike Ginormous-“

“We need to watch one and two again first as prep - we’ve got a tradition to uphold-“

“Anybody see Nine and a Half Weeks lately-“

“What’s that-“

One by one, they stood up from the padded leather recliners and stretched in the dim, windowless room, backs cracking, shoulders unknotting.  And it was funny - Nesta felt the urge to cut through the conversation and say something profound and meaningful, just to acknowledge the space they’d been in.  But the right words didn’t come.

Instead, she said, “Hey, can we do this again?”

Then again, maybe that was exactly what she meant.

Well, what do you know, the peanut gallery was so on board: The rousing cheer was as loud as the hoots at the dance scenes, and the idea that this special time wasn’t a one-off made her feel a piercing kind of relief.

“I think we need a Chris Pratt marathon next.  Guardians of the Galaxy,” Feyre said.

“Is that the guy with the brother?”  Elain asked.

“That’s Hemsworth,” someone answered.

Starting the line for the departure up the middle aisle, Nesta wadded her empty Milk Duds box and made a rim shot with it into the trash.  Abruptly, she realized that she couldn’t wait to see Cassian - and not because of all the scenes of half-naked bodies.  She missed him - which was ridiculous, considering neither one of them had gone anywhere.

Heading for the door by the glass display of candy bars, she was smiling as she pushed open the -

“Dear…..God,” she blurted as she recoiled.

The hallway beyond was filled with the males of the house, all sitting on the floor with their backs to the bare walls, their legs stretched out, propped up, crossed at the knees or crossed at the ankles.

Apparently there had been quite a bit of drinking going on, empty bottles of vodka and whiskey littered around them, glasses in hands or on thighs.

“This is NOT as pathetic as it looks,” her Cassian pointed out.

“Liar,” Kallias muttered.  “It so fucking is.  I think I’m going to start knitting for reals.”

As the females emerged with her, each one of them registered shock, disbelief, and then wry amusement.

“Is it me,” one of the males groaned, “or did we just perform our own mass castration out here?”

“I think that just about sums this shit up,” somebody agreed.  “I’m wearing panties under my leathers from now on.  Anyone joining me?”

“Helion already does,” Kallias said as he got to his feet and went to Viviane.  “Hey.”

While the other pairs found one another, Cassian smiled as Nesta came over to him and put out her hand to help him off the floor.  As they embraced, he kissed her on the side of the neck.

“Are you out of love with me now?” he murmured.  “Cuz I’m pussy-whipped?”

She leaned back in his arms.  “Why?  Because you pinned after me while I was watching a dirty movie with my girls that wasn’t all that dirty?  I think it’s actually - and brace yourself - really pretty cute.”

“I’m still all male.”

As she rolled her body against him, she let out a mmmmmm as she felt his erection.  “Yes, I can tell.”

***************************************

Thank you, @sparkleywonderful and @feysandsmut for the advice!

[drivelings]

49.

You could hear them as you walk in–whispered shock and curiosity. They nudge each other, pointing at you, and trying to get a better look. ‘Is that our instructor?’ ‘No way! That fatty?’ ‘Bullshit!’

That was quickly muted by the appearance of Gabriel Reyes, who strides in after you in wide, heavy steps that easily overtakes their voices. All noise dies immediately with a well-placed glare from the man. You, on the other hand, take your place front and center, hardly intimidating compared to the man who can eclipse you with his presence alone.

“Welcome to basic combat.” Your voice barely even echoes in the large hall. Students further back after to shuffle forward to hear you. “Myself and Sergeant Reyes here will be your instructors and supervisors–”

The room comes to life immediately with hushed whispers and shuffling.

“Silence!!”

The deep timbre of Gabriel’s voice makes everyone in the room jump, including you. He has a set of lungs and a diaphragm that could put an opera singer to shame. You continue your explanation of the class, Gabriel’s voice still rings in everyone’s ears. 

You explain the technicality of each move while Gabriel demonstrates.

The both of you march down each line, watchful of any mistakes. You can hear Reyes barking out corrections–“Pick up your heel, you’ll snap your tendon!” “You call that a punch? My abuela does better. Put some hip into it–no, not like that.” “Punch me like you mean it. Like I kicked your–ow.”–and you try your best to keep your composure. Gabriel was always rather dramatic when supervising combat exercises. 

You could feel it. The rise in adrenaline, the shaking that it brings like a beast rattling in a cage, and the heat in your neck and fingers that spread and threaten to consume. But years of patience teaches you to resist and just smile graciously even though the coiling feeling in your chest makes your hands and legs tremble at the promise of a good fight. 

“Oh God, you’re shaking! The runt’s shaking!” The recruit chokes out a laugh that sends everyone else in the room into quiet laughter themselves. Only a few are not amused by this display, and you make sure to remember their faces. 

Gabriel steps sharply in front of you, the mere sound of his boot falling makes the little asshole jump back. Wasn’t he just across the room? There were times when you are jealous of his speed and long legs--it makes his bulk all the more intimidating, unlike yours. You can’t see your colleague’s face, but you’re sure he’s wearing the one with the deep scowl and flashing eyes (he practices with you sometimes).

“Something funny, cabrón?”

“N-no, sir...” 

“Good,” he says smoothly, leaning down and overshadowing the shrinking recruit. You resist the urge to roll your eyes or pull Gabriel back. That’d be undermining his authority, and he gets very irritated whenever that happens. “If you have a problem, you deal with me, got it?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Gabriel nods sharply, undoubtedly baring his teeth if the way the recruit was shrinking even further away is any indication. Your colleague flashes you a grin, and you just raise an eyebrow--while his help was nice, it has undoubtedly undermined your authority with the class. 

Nearly two weeks pass since that day. 

When Gabriel isn’t around, they call you names behind your back, sometimes when they feel brave, they say it right when you pass them by. ‘Sergeant fat-ass’, ‘Marshmallow’, 'Pudge-face’. The most creative so far had to be 'Sergeant Peep’. It was nothing you haven’t heard before. At least it was better than those comments you once received from your peers about sucking your way up. 

But despite their bravado and words, they do not try anything. Not with the way Gabriel looks over you, or shouts at them whenever they even think of doing something out of line. After class, when they are all dismissed, you could see them–kissy faces and inappropriate gestures. Gabriel must see it, too, and growls, ready to bring an end to their teasing (and lives). You pinch his sleeve, barely able to draw his attention. “Don’t bother, they will learn eventually.”

“Well, those shitheads are going to learn now.”

You hum, and discretely curl your fingers into his sleeve, wrapping the fabric over your knuckles. The tightness at his arm effectively stops him from taking a step. He gives you a strained grin and you glance back in silent warning. If you brace your arm under his, you could lock his elbow. If you just took a slight step and twisted away, you’d be in the perfect position to toss him over your shoulder. He tugs a little bit to let you know that he could do the same. The threat did not go unnoticed, but to anyone else watching, the two of you were in a loving arm lock. It does nothing to quell the noise and mockery for the watchful students who think they know what they see. 

But this is a game. You use your leverage and begin to steer him away. He follows begrudgingly, but not without his fair share of griping.

“I’m going to tear those brats a new one,” he says none too quietly.

“Don’t. Then they’ll think I’m even more of a pushover.”

“They already think that.”

You nod. They aren’t the first and they aren’t going to be the last either. But what they think does not matter. 

“Just show them up already.”

“Eventually.”

“Can’t believe they think someone like you is weak. It’s not like you got this fucking far that way--how much training do they think we do?”

You chuckle at the irony of it. “You didn’t think that a few years ago.”

“This and that are different.”

“Sure it is,” you say sarcastically, but none the less with good cheer. 

Gabriel rolls his eyes and gives you a shove with the arm you have hostage. “Shut up, short stuff.”

You yank on it. “You shut up, or do you want me to defenestrate you?”

He gives a mock salute. “No, sir.”

“Keep that up and I might seriously do it.”

Gabriel laughs, shrugging his shoulders. “Didn’t do it then, can’t see you trying it now.”

You laugh, and it’s enough for him to forget his irritation for the time being.

He kneads your arms underneath his thumbs, pleased by the softness that meets him first, but secretly admiring the firm muscle, feeling for where they are divided into small cords and how they flex threateningly even below the multiple layers of cloth and skin. Sure, the other members of Overwatch had this sort of mass and he was definitely no exception, but there was something alluring about the entire package of such power in such a small frame. Maybe it was the deception. Maybe it was just because he was a masochist. Maybe it was just you. Who knows? 

He smooths his hands over your stout waist. There were no sharp lines or angles to your stomach like his, just softness and curves. But when his fingers squeeze just a little too hard, the muscle beneath the surface jump out–forgiving plush turns into stone walls–violently rejecting his touch.

“Stop that,” you laugh, squirming.

It comes to a head one day. Not even back for half a day after your week-long mission and already you were assigned to teach your basic combat class with Gabriel. You only had time to write your report and send it off as written–spelling errors and all–before getting pulled into a series of briefings and other work. Your stomach growls irritably throughout the day, and only a handful of people manage to walk by you without making some comment about the darkness underneath your eyes.

It isn’t until Gabriel announces that today is a practical examination day that you even realize what you were getting yourself into. Successive one-on-one matches, hand-to-hand combat exercise. Each student gets thirty seconds to show what they have learned. The very reason why Gabriel volunteered for this class when it was announced. The class devolves into excitable chatter that only fuels your exhaustion. 

“I’m not the first opponent.” He jerks his head at you, and you can only return a deadpan stare, your eyes asking if he was serious. He shoots a grin back at you. “Show’em what you’re made of.” 

“That encouragement should go to the students, not to me,” you mutter wearily, annoyed at having been volunteered for this. You didn’t have enough strength to be patient or to be a kind teacher figure today, and you suspect that Gabriel must know that. 

Gabriel does not even bother hiding his delight. It’s fun being a hardass and giving the students a hard time, but watching it happen especially coming from you is a special treat. He debates recording this for posterity’s sake, but the chances that you’ll kick his ass becomes extremely high. The rewards definitely outweigh the risks, however. 

He leads with a left jab, it doesn’t even reach you. Your student steps in, swings with his right. You duck, spin and slam your heel into his exposed side. He is thrown across the invisible ring with a yelp that dies in in throat when he hits the ground. 

“Angles are important,” says Gabriel loudly. You get the feeling he’s not talking to you. 

He aims for your face, but you duck again and grab his arm from below. Loosely over his wrist, the other underneath his upper arm. 

“Where you place your weight–” You turn, pull his arm over your shoulder, tuck in your hips and pull. He flies over your head, barely catches his landing on his back. 

“–is important.”

You aim a kick at his face while he’s down. He yelps, barely scrambling out of the way. But you do not relent. He tries to get into a defensive stance–a boxing stance–but he’s not looking, his own arms blocking his vision. A firm foot to the pelvis proves his defense ineffective, and he ends up on the ground again. 

“Keep your eyes open!”

You want to tell Gabriel that yelling at the recruits won’t help–you’ve been there, you’ve done that, it only confuses them and makes them panic. But you say nothing, just focus on breathing and reading. God, did your student really have to broadcast his moves? Pulling back his arm so far does nothing, you think to yourself as the punch is unleashed at your head, but a full blink too late.

The next opponent is smaller, closer to your height, and almost immediately, you instinctively try to get down even lower than she. She tries to do the same, carefully raising loose fists. The two of you are quiet and still for a beat. Then another. 

One after another, your opponents come and go. It’s only after the sixth opponent that you find yourself no longer moved by sheer adrenaline or anger. It’s just hot. Your lungs and skin are blazing, the heat the adrenaline left behind is eating you up and makes everything itch. 

You unzip your hoodie and toss it at Gabriel’s general direction both to keep it from being dirtied and to shut his mouth for a bit. 

It shuts his mouth all right, as it does everyone else’s. 

You pull one of your arms across you in a stretch, and he can feel his mouth water when he spies the muscles that ripple gently underneath your skin at the motion. 

underneath your t-shirt, loose but still tighter than most of the clothing you wear. Gabriel licks his lips.  He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of watching you reveal your true nature. 

“Next!” 

They come reluctantly, one-by-one. And in the same order, they all go down. Some of them are left shaken, others are thirsty for vengeance (but those are quickly brought down by both yourself and Gabriel, who grows weary of the pace their attitude is weathered.)

The recruits do not come near you for weeks, and the obvious way they avoid you or bow their heads in your presence is enough to send everyone else who sees into harsh fits of laughter. 

“Ugh. Is that how I look like? Put that away,” you groan, face aflame behind your hands. He grins viciously, leaning heavily against you on the couch, pushing the video closer to your face. 

“You look good.”

“I look terrible,” you insist. “Look! Look there! My foot is in the wrong place, if he just put his weight on the other foot, then he’d sweep me–I, ugh.” 

You shove a hand at Gabriel’s face but he avoids it, laughing, and follows the inside of your arm to lean his head against your chest. Your arm wraps around his shoulders, pulling him closer against you, and resting your chin on his head. The video continues to play and the recorded you demonstrates the ferocity of palm strikes against one of the better students. 

“Think they’re scared of me?”

Gabriel huffs a laugh, squeezing his lips onto your cheek. “Better be.” 

[eddievenomsbrocks]

The Beginnings

Abilities

Expert Reporter (Eddie): Eddie Brock is an incredibly skilled investigative reporter for the Daily Bugle (prior he was fired from the Daily Globe for digging too deep). He also has many sources of information that aids him in his work.

Skilled Hand-to-Hand Combatant (Venom): Although he's had no proper training, Eddie is a formidable hand-to-hand combatant when Venom is in control.

Venom Symbiote: Venom has completed symbioses with the host, Eddie Brock. This grants Eddie:   Superhuman Strength, Speed, Durability, Stamina, Reflexes.  

Other Abilities:

  Accelerated Healing:     The alien symbiote has fast acting healing abilities, almost like oil when disrupted, it can form right back from where it was hit. Unless disrupted with sonic sound waves or intense heat.  

  Spider Sense Immunity:     The alien symbiote is able to blend into his surroundings. The ultimate predator - it can only be located by heat signatures or sound. This disrupts Spider-Sense (precognition).    

  Night Vision:     The alien symbiote is able to see perfectly in the dark, using echolocation, bouncing sound off the environment to see.  

  Wall Crawling:     The alien symbiote has sticky tar like skin that is able to attach itself onto walls. It can walk, crawl, run, jump - vertically with little resistance to gravity.  

Symbiotic 'Webbing’':   The alien symbiote has tendrils, a sticky tar like substance that acts as a "webbing". 

                                                        -------

"Get the EKG!"  Eddie was fading in and out of consciousness. He felt empty.

"His heart has atrophied! He's renal, organ failure present-,"  ZAP.  Eddie felt a pain shoot through him.

"Heart rhythm stabilizing. But, he needs to be on a drip ASAP."

Eddie was put in a medical induced coma. Life support, the whole thing. He was still critical, still dying. Until Venom came back. Slithering through the open window. Eddie still in a coma, felt the warmth of Venom slide back inside him.

Eddie woke with a start as the alarm clock went off.

"Five more minutes,” a groggy sounding voice deep within Eddie's being spoke. Eddie whined and buried his head more into the gross pillow. "Yeah," Eddie fell back asleep. His other alarm set on his phone sounded off, a big fog horn blaring.   "Shit, come on!"

Eddie awake, barely, walking down the dark streets of Manhattan. At a vendor to get a dinner/breakfast, or as Eddie calls them  'Night Breakfast' . "Yo, uh, two hoagies please, but like hold the pickles,"  Eddie used to love pickles, but like most things in his new life - had to compromise. Venom hates them, so he cut them out of his diet.

"Listen, I know this ain't ideal - but, Spider-Man does more of his cool shit at night. The day stuff - sure, is cool too. But, everyone with a smartphone gets that stuff. We gotta get better shit on record."

“He is a joke. Useless,” Venom was jealous. Eddie rolled his eyes.

"All the metahumans are better then you'se and me for fuck sakes. Like we've established, we're losers. Don't be gettin' all weird or whatever. This is just a job, a one off piece of vigilantism. This ain't gonna be our new shtick, okay?" Eddie stuffed the two hoagies back to back with barely any chewing, moaning slightly at the taste. "Man, that's good.”

“Not as good as flesh and the brains of some douchebag.”

"That's highly debatable, Venom."

Eddie smiled at the homeless guy, Steve, he'd been getting to know around the corner near his apartment.

"Hey, Eddie, my man! You get me a treat?"

Eddie nodded pulling a ziplock bag out of his coat pocket. The bag was nothing to be calling the cops over. It was a bag of fresh vegetables

 "Bag 'a veggies like this is a huge commodity. You can't find nothin' this fresh, so I'm cutting you a deal," Eddie laughed at their odd looking exchange of goods, clearly to an outsider it would look like some shady deal happening. Eddie also slipped Steve twenty dollars for good measure.

"Yo, god bless you man!"

 "God bless me? Nah, come on - you know what though, as for my act of good faith you need to go to that job opportunity man, okay? I set you up, Uptown ask for Eric, he'll give you a great job at the mall. Please, go, or at least try okay?"

"Yeah yeah, I'll think about it! Thanks for the veggies, I appreciate it."    

Eddie walked away, shaking his head.

“Humans can be so strange,” Venom sounded annoyed.

Eddie kept his head trained up high - looking for any signs of Spider-Man as he walked.

 "Keep a look out, Venom," Eddie tried to find any weird movements, any sign.

 He did not realize he had walked into open traffic. Venom took over as the transport truck slammed into Eddie. He felt every bone in his pelvis and lower spine break, screaming in agony for only a moment before being fully engulfed, cushioned and reset by the symbiote.

Venom jumped onto the moving transport and crouched.

“Nice one Eddie, could’ve gotten us both killed,” Venom jumped onto a  tall building and slid up the side, sticking its form all the way up. Venom perched, squatting over the city, looking down at all the movement of specks.

 "Please, god, stop looking down,"  Eddie was terrified of heights. He kept his eyes shut, but it did not matter. He could still see through his mind of Venom. Sometimes, when Venom went on his own accord Eddie would be lost in the darkness of the symbiote's innards. Floating without thought or feeling.

Venom's tongue lolled out, a slick amount of spit fell. Some guy twenty stories down gagged thinking a bird did it's business on his expensive jacket, 'I hate New York,' the trust funder whined.

Venom squinted looking towards the city skyline. “There, Eddie!” Venom launched himself, going from rooftop to rooftop. Not at all graceful in his movements, clunky and knocking into things.

Venom disappeared within Eddie and Eddie was left crouched on a fire escape, watching Spider-Man deal with some criminals. Eddie took out his camcorder from his coat jacket, luckily it was on the opposite side of where he was just hit by a transport truck.

  "This is Eddie Brock from The Brock Report. Vigilante justice has been deemed problematic. In some regards there is anecdotal evidence to suggest such - data collected by the FBI and also some very clearly biased sources like the NYPD, confirms that narrative. As seen in the exclusive footage being shown in these clips obtained by your's truly, Spider-Man does not go far in any 'rough brand of justice' the police seem to be feeding as a narrative."  

A clip plays on loop of Spider-Man going out of his way to make sure civilians are as far from any action that may be about to happen. Doing a perimeter sweep before going into the building that seems active in wrong doing.

  "Here we see in this next clip, Spider-Man very neatly and without bodily harm, as confirmed by the police report on public file, deal with the alleged perps of the alleged crime. Spider-Man very clearly is shown to make sure all perps of the alleged crime were not injured."  

A clip is playing of Spider-Man about to be punched by the alleged criminal, he dodges the punch and quickly without throwing a punch incapacitates the alleged criminal using his webbing.

  "Unlike real statistical reports and data showing the NYPD's own misconduct: racial profiling, aggravated assaults, B&E's without warrants, and using force -  deemed by the public and in some few and far between cases upheld in a court of law - as excessive. Spider-Man seems to use his sense of clarity and costumed heroics as a way to minimize damage and deescalate a situation."  

A clip is shown of Spider-Man having a simple conversation of one of the alleged perps, who in turn gives up his gun and puts his hands up.

J. Jonah Jameson looked pissed, "Eddie, when I asked you on this assignment, I specifically asked for an unbiased opinion. This clearly is biased. Clearly you're supporting a damn criminal!"

Eddie looked annoyed,   "Nah, see the segment still has another fifteen minutes to it. I go over more stats, and evidence to support my claims. Listen, there is data on crime prevention that the NYPD is trying to keep out of public hands! The only ones, that are also true, that most people are being fed is the fact that with these costumed vigilantes we are seeing an increase of victims leaving the scenes and not doing a follow up with the police. It's true, its in there, that vigilantes are just allowing a revolving door to occur, and in some instances more crime seems to be going up because of it."

J. Jonah huffs.

 “But, on top of that I have found data to suggests the inactivity of the NYPD as well as their witch hunts against these vigilantes, using what little man power they have, have wasted millions of tax dollars instead of putting in place proper de-escalation training and anti-racial profiling training. So, there's that."

 Eddie raised an eyebrow,   "Unless you'se have some sorta biased view? Phew, I mean, that'd be bad to have a biased without facts in your favour?"

J. Jonah gruffed,  "Hey, that's liable. Now, whatever, fine. I want your segment to air on our network, and also you to have all your evidence of these claims in the article under the video by Friday. It's Wednesday, gives you time. Stick to your damn deadlines, Brock, or you're fired! Now, get the hell out of my office."