#the day i get a spine is gonna be the day pigs fly

[that-it-gay]

james. what are you doing. can you just say "no, i cant help i'm fucking busy". why do you feel the need to be everyone's goddamn servant.

[markislover]

Sweet Girl (Mark)

Pairing(s); Mark x innocent! Fem! Reader!

Warning(s); innocent/corruption kink,guided masturbation (F),oral fixation (w fingers),watching,pillow humping/dry humping,PRAISE FUCKING KINK.

Summary; Mark catches you moaning his name,how can he just leave you like that?

A/n; Bee here with another story! Idk I’ve just been obsessed with the thought of mark having a corruption kink??

Mark finally got back home and god was he exhausted, days of traveling had him needing sleep desperately. He knew you had been there watching Chica and Henry but was a little confused when he found the dogs in his living room but you not.

Mark registered muffled sounds upstairs assuming you must be on the phone or something. He petted both Chica and Henry for a few minutes and you still handn’t come back downstairs so he went to you.

Mark tracked up the stairs quietly, a shiver ran down his spine though when he heard you moaning. Just how he had pictured it so many times before,he had pictured himself Fucking you in a variety of ways. Over his gaming desk,in his bed,in his shower,on his couch that still has stickers on it from your last adventure here. Everywhere and if he was honest he was downright a sinful man, he was sure of it.

You were a sweet girl,soft spoken,kept to yourself,you always had the cutest outfits skirts,dresses, tiny little shorts that showed off way to much skin but you didn’t realize that. You smelled of his favorite candy and flowers you smelled like pure innocence to him and he couldn’t help but want to corrupt every bone in your body until you were broken for him. Until your heart raced with the dirtiest thoughts of him,until you breathed for him,until you’d live and die for him and him alone.

Mark stopped at the top step on his stairs hearing your moans pouring from your lips. Surely you hadn’t brought someone back to his house? No way you were fucking somebody else in his bed. You were too innocent for that. Hell when Sean made dick jokes you looked so confused, as if someone didn’t know what 2 + 2 was, you looked like a baby that would just stare not understanding a thing the person was saying.

There’s no way that you, his sweet girl, his pure and innocent little baby were fucking someone else In his bed. Mark suddenly felt anger rise in him at the thought,if you weren’t fucking someone why were you in his room moaning so pornographically. Mark growled walking up to his door.

“Mark!” You whined out and he froze in his spot. That was his name. You just moaned his name. Right? He didn’t just hear that. Mark felt somewhat relief wash over him hearing you moan his name. At least if you were with a guy he knew he wasn’t the one on your mind. Mark quietly opened his door and the sight he saw sent blood rushing to his cock immediately.

You were straddling one of his pillows hips moving as you humphed against it. Your little pig-tails bouncing along with your tits,moans and whines falling with each sway. Not only were you moaning but you were getting off on his pillow,picturing him,calling his name. If mark had any control left he lost it right then.

“Ahem.” He sounded your eyes flying up to his you gasped and tumbled back off the pillow. “Mark! I’m so sorry! I just- I- it- tingly- I-” you were stuttering left and right not from fear but from embarrassment. The guy you were picturing under you had been standing there for god knows how long. Not to mention you were using something of his, you wanted to die and curl up in a hole. You for sure knew he was gonna be disgusted, kick you out,stop talking to you.

“Sweet girl.” His voice was soft and you watched his face soften “it’s okay,I’m not mad with you.” He said walking in and closing his door to keep the dogs out. “Y-your not?” You asked and mark shook his head “you said it tingled right?” You nodded “I’m sure it tingles even worse now” you nodded quicker. “Awh, I’m sorry I interrupted.” You whined the second hid hand came in contact with your cheek. “It sounded like it was helping, sweet girl” you nodded “it…it was” you glanced at his pillow seeing the soaked spot on the silk before looking back to him.

“Then continue,I don’t want my sweet girl feeling tingly.” You swallowed thickly “here, I’ll even help yeah? You want me to help you?” Mark asked “yes, help me. Please.” He hushed you “Shh,no need to plead,I’ll gladly help you sweet girl”

Mark helped you straddle his pillow once again and you shivered felling the cold wet spot against your already soaked panties. Mark held up your skirt as you got settled “why was my sweet girl moaning my name,hmm? What were you picturing.” He asked and you felt your skin heat up. “I- I was picturing you holding my hips while I- Oh!” You moaned out when he shifted your hips against the pillow.

“Mark!..” you whined out for the millionth time that night. “Yeah, I’m the one making you feel good aren’t I?” You nodded as he helped guide your hips against his pillow. Maybe it was from the fact your orgasm was so close before you had stopped but you could already feel that impending feeling in the pit of your stomach

“Open your pretty mouth for me” you opened it on command and you felt fingers press against your tongue. “Suck.” He commanded and you did so sucking against his fingers. Maybe you were just high off pleasure but you swear they tasted sweet. You whined around his digits as he continued to help guide your hips.

“God, I can hear how wet you are, sweet girl.” You shivered “I’m-im sorry” mark let out a deep chuckle “I didn’t say apologize,I love it. I could listen to that all day” that made you shivered “oh? Did you like me saying that, sweet girl?” He asked his chin resting on your shoulder. “Mark!” You moaned out. “It’s honestly adorable how you look so innocent sweet girl, such a dirty girl aren’t you? Getting off on my pillow? Having me help? So cute” he chuckled.

Mark suddenly shoved his fingers into your throat making you gag against him “your hips are stuttering you gonna cum?” You nodded and he kissed your cheek “it’s okay, cum for me” you shivered.

Your orgasm hit you stupid. It honestly knocked you stupid. You whined out marks name repeatedly while he kept your hips moving until your orgasm slowed. “Good girl, yes such a good girl.” You whined out falling back into his chest. “T-thank you” you stumbled out as you panted he pulled his fingers from your mouth a string of spit connected them to your lips.

“You did so good, such a good girl. Oh my goodness you made such a mess.” He chuckled watching the praise send you for another loop “you like being praised?” He asked and you nodded sleepily. “We should get you cleaned up” he said as he lifted you up.

Mark helped clean you up allowing you to shower. He sat a change of clothes and a towel on the counter leaving you to get dressed. Afterward, he brushed out your hair and dried it before letting you curl up with him to sleep.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Laisse tomber les filles 11

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; size kink; age gap; manipulation; sexual acts and dubcon, possible untagged elements..

This is a dark!fic and Lee Bodecker x (short) reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You find yourself ostracized on campus by your shyness, but your reticence won’t deter an unwanted suitor.

Note: Thank;s for all your patience on this series.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You just wanted it to be over. The suffocating silence had you paralysed against the seat as the two men roiled in mutual loathing. Lee kept a hand on the wheel as his other kept wandering close to your skirt. You were embarrassed at his lack of shame.

Then it started. The whole seat shook with each kick of Andre’s feet against the back as he stomped the leather like a child. Lee jolted and gripped the wheel with both hands as he glared at the rear view mirror. He growled and cleared his throat.

“Boy, you don’t want to do this,” he snarled, “right now, you got one maybe two charges. I don’t care how rich your daddy is, I can have you at the station for months if I wanna.”

“Blah, blah, blah, you’re just small time, buddy,” Andre hissed, “gettin’ your kicks with college girls. It’s you who should be sitting back here--”

“And what were you doin’, boy? Houndin’ the girl across campus like ya do,” Lee retorted, “I’m tellin’ you one last time to shut your mouth.”

“Lee, please,” you murmured, “I just… please, just let him go and we can… um, be alone.”

“Oh yeah, she sounds real excited for your fat ass,” Andre chuckled.

“Andre,” you turned to peek over the seat, “I’m trying to help you.”

“I don’t need your help…” Andre jutted out his jaw and looked out the window, “...slut.”

The silence pervaded the car again. Lee’s breath gristled in his throat but he said nothing at his cheek twitched. You sat back and hugged yourself as you watched the road through the windshield. The tension strangled you and you just rocked as you wished for it all to be over. You wanted to go back to your dorm and hide under your covers.

The way ahead grew darker and while you weren’t familiar with much beyond the campus, it didn’t seem to be the way to the station. You glanced over at Lee and fidgeted. Trees rose around you and the land plateaued before a long bridge that stretched over a loudly flowing river.

Lee slowed and killed the engine. A shiver crept up your spine as you got a bad feeling in your stomach. You watched him climb out as his weight shook the car. You held your breath, time slowing as you held your breath and watched him open Andre’s door. It was the younger man’s huffs that brought you back to reality.

The sheriff dragged him out and they struggled as you pushed yourself across the seat and got out on the driver’s side. Lee fought with Andre as he angled him around to the railing of the bridge. You followed and saw the dark shadows of the crashing river as it dipped down into a dam.

“Wait, wait,” you grabbed onto Lee as he turned Andre to face the water, “what are you doing?”

“Now, honey, you go back to the car, you don’ need to be out here,” he elbowed you away, “I’m just teaching the boy a lesson.”

“Lee, please, let’s go--”

“Go back to the car now, dammit, woman,” he snapped and you flinched at his tone.

“Fucking pig,” Andre spat, “oh, I’m so afraid--”

“Uh huh,” Lee grumbled and bent and grabbed Andre’s legs. He thrust him up and over the rail, dangling him there as his cuffed arms bent awkwardly behind him, “y’aint scared, I see.”

“Hey, hey, let me up,” Andre demanded, “you fucking pyscho.”

“Now I just want you to think about how you talk to authority, boy,” Lee taunted, “lots more I could do than close you in a cell for the night and give a meal to tide ya over, don’t ya think?”

“You’re fucked,” Andre swore, “get me up.”

“I got no problem lettin’ you up, I just wanna hear it,” Lee snickered.

“Here what?”

“Here you beg,” Lee sneered, “just like this girl’s gonna be beggin’ for me and not you--”

“Lee,” you uttered in shock.

“Honey, now, I won’t tell ya again--”

Lee stumbled back and his arms flew out as he tried to catch himself. You heard Andre scream and ran up to watch him plummet down into the depths, legs flailing and crashing with a terrible splash. You gasped and covered your mouth as he dissipated into the black waves.

“Shit,” Lee grumbled as he stood and came up next to you, “I told ya go back in the car, distractin’ me like that.” He grabbed your shoulder and squeezed, “ain’t ya a good girl? You know how to listen, don’t ya?”

“Andre,” you tried to shrug the sheriff away, “is he--”

“Even if his head still in one piece, he got them hands tied,” Lee tutted, “goddamn accident like that, tragic thing.”

“Why would you do that? Why would you hang him--”

You were stunned as Lee shot his hand up to grip your chin. He forced your mouth closed and pushed you against the rail as he closed you in with his size. He glared at you in the shadow of his headlights, “what are you sayin’, girl? You talkin’ back to me?”

“Please--”

He pressed his finger to your lips and shushed you, “please, nothing, honey. This is your fault. That boy be back on his feet if you weren’t out her naggin’ me. You aint my wife yet.”

“Lee--”

“Sir,” he corrected you and poked his finger into your mouth, “now, they gon find that boy and they’ll call me and I’ll make sure they don’t get a whiff of us. You know kids, into weird things these days, always where they don’t belong.”

You blinked at him as your eyes glossed and pushed another finger into your mouth and hummed, “well, looks like we can get on with our date, honey pie.”

📚

It wasn’t until the lights of the city blurred your tears that you realised you were crying. You were horrified by the man beside you and yourself. You kept seeing Andre falling, hearing his scream, hearing the sharp splash against the water. You imagined the way his bones would’ve cracked and his lungs would fill as he was helpless to escape the flow of the river.

When the car stopped, you winced and Lee grabbed your hand as it balled tightly in your lap. He pried your fingers open and laced his between them.

“Honey pie, I’m sorry I spoke to ya like that,” he purred, “it was only… I was worried for ya. I didn’t want ya to see all that. Just tryna protect you and all that.”

“Can you take me home--”

“Home? Is that small room really a home, honey?” he shifted closer to your on the street and caressed your cheek, “you seen my home, our home. I wanna share it with you.”

“I got school,” you wisped weakly as he let go of your hand and slid his arm over your shoulders, “I can’t--”

“What you learnin’ in that school? You don’t need none of it. History? You can read at home.”

“But I… worked so hard. I wanna learn--”

“Let’s not talk about this right now, honey pie,” he cradled your chin, “it’s been a long night.”

You looked down, too hollow to argue. You didn’t want to marry him, at least you didn’t think you did. You still had another three years of school at the end of the semester and you enjoyed your classes. You might be alone but you weren’t lonely.

“So, you read some?” he asked as his thumb tapped on your chin.

“Yes,” you said quietly, “a little.”

“That first chapter,” he said as he pressed your lip down, “you wanna try some of that?”

Your eyes widened and you gulped. You looked out the window and realised that you didn’t know where you were. You could push him away and climb out but you wouldn’t know where to go from there. And you couldn’t do all that. You were trapped.

“Sure,” you replied and kept from sobbing, there was no other answer he would accept.

“Alright,” he pulled away and stretched his arms across the seat, “like I said, honey, you take the lead.”

You gaped at him and felt his gaze in the dim. The headlights were off and you heard the distant sound of tires. You were all alone in the heart of the metropolis. You rubbed your hands together as you hesitated.

“Your mouth, honey pie,” he breathed, “I been thinking about it all day.”

You remembered the opening scene in the book, the explicit descriptions of the sloppy mess of the act. You inhaled deeply and told yourself not to be you, be the woman in the book, be Delilah, the temptress.

You reached for Lee’s fly before you could snap back to doubt and fear. You tugged at his belt clumsily as your hands shook and you pushed down his zipper. You felt him harden beneath his pants as you did and you sucked in a lungful of air.

Your lips quivered as he groaned and tilted his hips. You pushed his fly open and reached into his briefs. You gripped him and gasped.

“That’s all for you, honey pie,” he purred, “see what you do to me?”

You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t find your voice in your tight throat. You licked your lips and braced yourself for what you were about to do. You’d come this far, there was no turning back.

[its-kall-the-clown]

22 with pigsy, tang, and MK. Cause they’re best dads.

I completely agree about them being the best dads! Which is why I prepared this fluffy little- *trips and falls into angst.* Uhhhh it was fluffy up until the end...oops? it gets fluffy again!

Prompt list

He's Got Us

Rating: G

“You’re burning up.” Tang pressed a hang against MK's flushed face, gently brushing his bangs away to feel the raging fever underneath.

"It's fine. I'm fine.." the boy insisted and gently shoved the hand away from his forehead.

"Mmmm I don't think so. I know a fever when I see one." Tang hums and looks over MK's whole appearance.

MK's face was flushed, an undertone of pink across his cheeks and forehead making him look like a newly budding flower. His eyes were glassed over and try as MK might there was an extra hitch to his breath that indicated he was suppressing a cough.

"I'm fine. Please just let me head out." The boy pleaded, swiftly turning his head and coughing into his shoulder. The poor boy just wanted to see the new movie with Mei. It was a holiday, a rare one that even Pigsy was closed for, so of course, the boy wanted to take advantage of it.

They cough again into their shoulder, this time more violently and without ceasing for a whole minute.

"I'm sorry MK...I would let you go out but your dad would kill me."

"Is MK coughing??!" Pigsy shouted from the kitchen already on MK like a mosquito in the summer. MK's shoulders sag with defeat. Knowing once Pigsy was involved there was no use trying to hide it.

Sure enough the pigman came around the corner, thermometer in hand. It's thrust into MKs unwilling mouth revealing what they already knew.

MK had a fever.

Pigsy tisks looking at the thermometer like it insulted him.

"Damn monkey, making you train in the rain. Now our boy has a fever." he fusses half at Tang and half at MK even though neither of them was the source of the problem.

"Dadsy... Dad. Please it's fine." He begged them both but when MK was sick Pigsy couldn't be reasoned with. He points back to MK's room with a stern look.

" Back to bed young man" he instructs and MK frowns. Making a big deal of stomping all the way back to his room. It has little effect on Pigsy even when he slams the door.

Normally Tang would sympathize more with MK...buuuut after the third hospital visit due to either a hidden injury that got worse with time or the boy slogging through a sickness only to make it worse, the sentiment got old.

The boy had a bad habit of hiding things from them. Leftover habit from MK's birth parents. He always felt the need to just, Push through even when he was hurting or sick.

More than once Tang had witnessed the boy's eyes rolling into the back of his head as he passed out from an overheating fever or infection.

"I'm on soup duty."

"I'm on medication."

The partners nod at each other, game plan set in motion.

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

"I'm not even-" MK has to pause his sentence to lean to the side and hack and cough. "-that's sick" he finishes with a sniff.

Tang just looks at him with a deadpan expression.

"Sure. And pigs can fly."

"Technically I can. If I took a plane." Pigsy comments with a wiry smile, entering the room with a tray. MK groans and runs a hand down his face.

"You're going to force me to stay in bed AND subjugate me to dad jokes?" He whines loudly and Tang takes the opportunity to finally shove the spoon of medicine into MK's mouth. MK's face scrunches up from the tatse but he swallows obediently.

A cup is offered to him by Pigsy and MK accepts it and drinks greedily.

The cup is replaced with a spoon, this time full of broth rather than medicine. MK huffs at first making a comment about not being a baby and Pigsy snaps back at him to shut it and eat.

And spoon by spoon the broth is drained. MK's eyes slowly dipping down till he can't even keep his head up. Pigsy takes this opportunity to tuck MK in, pulling the covers tightly around their body. Tang assists and he places a cool rag of water against MK's forehead.

The now unconscious teen hardly even noticed when his forehead was kissed by two loving parents.

--------

Pisgy took the first watch. Sitting on a stool next to MK's bed. if there was one thing about MK he was stubborn as he was and would try to sneak out.

This time however the boy stayed asleep, only mumbling gently occasionally and Pigsy would soothe him with hushed tones and a fresh cool rag.

He brushes MKs bangs gently and sighs, Tang enters the room softly and pads up to him. He feels his partner's chin sit atop his head and their arms draped over his shoulder. They sit like this for a while, just the sound of MKs labored breathing and the beat of Tang's heart against his back.

"You ever worry about him?" Pigsy asked and he can feel the vibrations of Tang humming atop his head.

"All the time. Why?" Tang asked, shifting slightly above him.

"It's just-" Pigsy sighs and pinches his snout. "I worry about him, even before all this monkey magic business. But now?"

He feels Tang shift from their perch coming around to kneel beside him.

"Sometimes I lay in bed at night, and I wonder...why him?" His fist tightens at his side as he looks at his sweet baby boy's flushed sick face.

"There are plenty of kids he could have picked. Why did he have to pick OUR kid? Couldn't he have picked someone else?" He huffed and gestured to MK. Tangs brows furrowed slightly

"Don't get me wrong, the kids perfect for the role. Smart, brave, and unwillingly to give up EVER." He smiles foundry and runs his hand against the boys hair gently.

"He's perfect….so why couldn't the damn monkey pick someone who would be OKAY at the job. Why did he have to pick OUR perfect boy?" He growls out feeling something well up in his throat. MK was out there every day, training, putting himself in harm's way. There were days Pigsy wondered if his son would make it home.

"I could never ask him to quit. He's too good at the job and helps too many people.. " Pigsy signs and pinches his snout. He feels Tang rub a hand on his back. A few moments pass of just them sitting together with Tang's talented fingers working over the muscles on his back.

"You know my recurring nightmare?" Tang asked, finally breaking the silence.

"The one where MK gets trapped under a mountain?" He asked and his partner's face nods, an apparent shiver crawling up the human spine.

"I still have it sometimes...it terrified me. But I'm having it less and less." He explains shifting into a better sitting position by Pigsy. He leans his head against his partner's thigh and Pigsy's hands go easily to his hair to run his hands through it.

"I realized. That no matter what he does or chooses to do with his life, he will always have us to fall back on." Tang turns his head slightly so he can see Pigsy better.

"He's gonna be okay. I promise." Tang pull away from his thigh and Pigsy instantly misses the contact. Instead the man leans up, sealing their lips in a short kiss.

"He's got the best two dad's ever after all~" the brag and Pigsy can only chuckle. He pressed his forehead to Tang's and closed his eyes. Just enjoying the space here they created together.

"He's got us."

[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

I Melt With You - Bakugou Katsuki

All Parts:

Part 10:

“Hey, Bakugou.” You greet easily, waving at him. “Can you believe it?”

“Jesus- what the hell are you on about now?”

“Nothing. Just, this marks the third time I’ve seen you without injury. Good on you buddy, setting a personal record and everything.”

He huffs, pushing off the wall. Bakugou is without his costume, clad in just normal sweats. The sight makes you feel a little bad- it was obviously his day off, but there he was working. Sacrificing his time for you.

“Fuck you.” He grumbles, without any bite. “Seriously. Fuck you.”

“C’mon, grumpy, don’t get so huffy.” You say playfully. “I was mostly joking, but I did mean it. I think I like you a whole lot better when there’s no blood involved.”

He starts to smile, just for a second, before he quickly evens his expression. It’s like he’s trying to hide the fact that it was there at all, quickly spinning around and starting off at a brisk pace. 

“Woah, slow down, no need to run, speedy. I’ll take it back if you’re so allergic to me being nice.”

Bakugou doesn’t respond, but he does slow down. Just minutely. Hardly even at all if you really think about it, but hey, at least you’re not basically running after him anymore.

“What’s got you so cheery, hah?” He asks after a beat, making an intentional point not to make eye contact. “It’s late- you’re not tired again?”

His tone catches you off-guard, something accusatory underneath that has you scrunching your nose. You’re not exactly sure what he’s getting at, but you can read his prickly tone for what it is- Bakugou is making fun of you. 

“No. I’m actually not tired, thank you very much.”

“That’s not what you were saying last night.”

“You know, that sentence from anyone else would offend me- but from you?” You scoff, squinting your eyes at him. “Well, I’m sure it was meant as an insult, not an insinutation; so I’ll refrain from calling you a pig. For now.”

“Call me anything and see where it gets ya, leech.”

“What’re you gonna do? Fight me?”

“Please, it wouldn’t be a fight.” He snorts, kicking at a rock in the road. It flies down the alley, all the way past the streetlamp’s glow. “See? I’d slaughter you.” 

“Yes! Probably!" You say in faux exasperation. "But it’s because you have way more practice at slaughtering people! I don’t know why you’re bragging about that- that’s totally not something normal people brag about!”

You throw your hands up, gesturing wildly, and Bakugou just sort of watches you. Doesn’t really react other than to evade one of your errant hands. You just barely miss him, the tips of your fingers clipping the fabric of his sweatshirt.

“What- nothing? You’ve got nothing to say about that? Course you don’t- because you’re proud of slaughtering people. Is that it? Huh?”

“I’m proud of winning.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Close enough.” He shrugs. “'Sides, it’s not my fault I wasn’t listenin’. Ya said so many damn words to me.”

“That’s so rude! You-“

Seeing his smile, you cut yourself off half-way. It should hardly even count as a smile, really, it’s much more of a smirk- something entirely self-indulgent and dripping with arrogance. You’re not sure if you wanna punch him in the mouth or giggle.

“You jerk. You’re messing with me!” On impulse, you knock your shoulders into his. Bakugou doesn’t flinch- nor does he budge whatsoever. “You’re just being mean on purpose, aren’t you?”

“Course.”

“Why? Just, I don’t know, be nice?”

“Fuck that. No thanks.”

“You incredibly rude- you know that?”

“And you’re fuckin’ annoying.” He retorts, knocking his shoulders into yours. Bakugou smirks when you stumble. “See- I’d murder you in a fight.”

“No one was debating that!”

He just bites his lip, throwing his head back. It’s like Bakugou is trying to hide his smile; exposing the strong column of his throat to you, pale skin gone 10 shades of gold under the streetlamp.

It steals the breath from your lungs- how devastatingly beautiful he can be. You have to tear your eyes away.

“Hey, Bakugou, it’s your day off right?”

He eyes you a little strangely. “Yes? Why?”

“Geez- Don’t be so suspicious.” You laugh. “I only asked because I was curious.”

“The hell you have to be curious about?”

“Just what you’d be doing right now otherwise- you know, if you weren’t stuck walking me-“

“‘m not stuck. Wouldn’t do this if I didn’t need to.”

“Yeah, but still.” You take a breath. “What I mean, is that, I’m sorry if this is burdening you. I know this probably isn’t what you wanted to do on your day off.”

He eyes you, sniffing for a moment while he juts his chin out. “Eh- it’s fine. Walking this far outta my way is good excercise anywa-“

“This far? Oh my god- are you serious? Where do you live?”

“Far enough.”

“Bakugou.” You say sternly, staring him down. You’re well aware he’s not a man who’s easily scolded into revealing the truth, but damn if you weren’t going die trying. “Seriously- how far?”

“Fuck’s it matter to you for?”

“Because it just does! Now, c’mon really, I’m gonna feel like, super bad if you say you’ve gotta take a train her-“

“No train, so quit bitching.” He scans the street for a moment, before turning back to look at you. “Not that far. Half an hour, maybe, if I was running.”

“If you were running? What about walkin-“

“Not walking so it doesn’t matter.”

“It does!”

“It fuckin’ doesn’t-“

Then he’s standing ram-rod straight, slapping an open palm over your stomach and pushing you back. You’re flying back into the shadows, back slamming against the brick wall. Gasping, air knocked clean out of your lungs, it’s all you can do to keep your eyes open and watch him leave.

Bakugou hardly even looks back before he’s soaring past the end of the alley, explosions igniting under his palms. There’s no one, all is quiet, silent and tense and then- bam.

A mottled mass of muscles and pulsating flesh barrels through the building beside Bakugou. Debris rains down onto the street, down onto the exact spot you were standing moments ago. The flying detrius knocks Bakugou off course, and the blonde hardly dodges before the creature is slinging fists his way.

“Shouldn’t’a been makin’ such a scene!” Bakugou is all smirks and haughty confidence, seamlessly twisting and dodging the creature’s strikes. “Gave yourself away- I’ve got you now!”

Even breathless and winded, you can’t help but stare. Bakugou truly is something else- a terrifying bullet in the air, bordering on frenetic as he dodges. He’s so fast you’re worried he’ll catch fire. There’s a reckless sort of smile on his face, stretching his lips back around canines you’re sure are sharper than before. He’s throws his left palm out, explosion recoil throwing him just past the creature’s next attack. It’s enough of an opening for Bakugou to surge in, flashbang fingertips making contact with the beast’s abdomen.

“Really, that’s all?” He challenges, grinning like mad when the beast flies back from the impact. “No strategy at all? That’s not gonna fuckin’ work!”

And then he looks back at you, just for a singular moment, while the beast is bent over from his previous blow. The sight nearly knocks the air out of your lungs all over again.

Bakugou is terrifying. Manic and bloodthirsty and feverish almost, chest heaving with every labored breath. There’s something wild in his eyes, coloring his features in blood that hasn’t even been spilled yet. It’s intimidating and scary and overwhelming, but he’s dazzling too. A crazed smile, so blinding and brilliant, that it leaves an after-image long after he’s blasted away again.

Something snaps in you then, and you’re diving behind the nearest dumpster. It’s a little gross and cramped, but you hear plaster cracking around you, and suddenly it’s not so bad anymore. Your eyes are wide, watching the battle- and even when hidden it still feels too close.

Your heart is trapped in your throat, a battering ram even as you try to catch your breath. Everything is loud, and chaotic, and you’ve never been this close to a real battle before. It scares you. You clasp your hands around your ears, trying to block out the gargling and explosions. It’s not enough, your breath still picking up as explosion impact rattles the asphalt beneath your feet.

“You’re done!” You hear him shout, and suddenly the air goes white and hot, and bright.

You screw your eyes shut, and bite back a scream as an explosion rattles every surrounding window. The sound swallows everything, and the light show is even worse. Even through your eyelids it’s blazing. Bright enough to have you diving to the ground and tucking your head between your knees.

Then it’s quiet. Complete silence other than the ringing in your ears. You hear impact, a warbled groan, and then the sound of his voice.

“You fucker.” He roars. “I’m fuckin’ busy, you weak bitch, can’t ya fuckin’ see that?”

Another thud. Another groan.

“All this shit for some cash? Just get a job, you fuckin’ loser. Like the goddamn rest of us.”

You peak your head over the dumpster, and see Bakugou standing tall over the collapsed body. You’re not entirely sure how the villian’s quirk operates, but the mass of flesh is deflating by the second, leaving behind a skinny mess of bones and sinew.

“A front, hah? Pathetic.” Bakugou sneers, grinding his teeth before he snaps. “On your fuckin’ feet weakling- ‘m taking you in.”

Bakugou hauls the skinny man to his feet, trapping rail-thin arms tight to the man’s back. It’s only then that you choose to emerge, staggering slighty on your shaking legs. It’s like you’ve got tremors- your body practically bowled over by the sheer amount of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

“H-help- I didn’t-“ The skinny man starts, before Bakugou is sending a knee into the base of his spine.

“Don’t speak to her, you shit-stain.” Bakugou curls his lip. “Shut the hell up.”

You’re not really sure what to do then- caught between wanting to high-tail it in the complete opposite direction, and surging towards Bakugou. Because, if you weren’t certain before, you definitely were now; Bakugou knew what he was doing. And if worst ever came to worst, he’d stay true to all his threats. Nobody was getting to you while he was around.

“Follow. C’mon.” Bakugou nods towards the end of the street. “Police station. You know where it is. Let’s get the hell to it already.”

You just start walking- almost on autopilot. There’s a weird fuzz settling in your brain, the adrenaline seeping and leaving nothing but exhaustion behind. It’s disorienting because you weren’t even part of the fight- Bakugou had shoved you back long before you could have ever been in any real danger.

You’re not sure how he knew- how he could have possibly predicted the villain coming through the wall, but even still, you’re gratetful. Because you’re not hurt, only frazzled where you would’ve been massacred without him there.

Bakugou waits for you to pass him by, and only once you’re a good few steps ahead, does he start shoving his prisoner forward. The walk is tense and silent, the only noise being the occasional pained groan from the skinny man. There’s an undeniable air of intimidation coming from Bakugou, rolling off his skin and permeating every spare inch of air. It only adds more stress to an already harrowing situation.

The police station lies just where you remembered it, but you’ve never been this close before. You’d only seen it down the end of the street as you passed by- only through the fuzzy haze of exhaustion after your shift ended. Now there’s nothing hazy about it- just a stark white building and big glass doors. Big glass doors that Bakugou is surging through, prisoner in tow, and ordering you to stay behind.

When he’s through the door, it’s like your heart finally starts to catch up. You can feel it’s thud slow against you ribs, no longer jumping at every slight sound. You eyelids feel heavy, further weighed down by the headache you feel coming on. You lean against the wall of the station, bending slightly at the waist as you ground the heels of your palm against your temple.

“All good?” You hear his voice some time later, Bakugou’s footsteps heavy as he approaches. “You get hurt?”

“No- ‘m fine.” You chew your cheek, straightening as you look up at him. “I think.”

He studies you for a moment, red eyes flitting across your face. Bakugou grimaces. “You’re shaking.”

“Yeah. Was scared.”

“It’s fine now.” He huffs, frustration lacing his features. Bakugou clenches his hand, releases, and repeats twice over before he speaks again. “Got ‘em already, so you can chill the hell out now. Alright?”

“Yeah- yeah sure.”

You try to agree, but your voice doesn’t sound right when it leaves your throat. It’s a little too hoarse, empty of almost all inflection. You’re not particularly pleased with it and Bakugou is even less so.

“You need a few minutes or something?” He pinches the bridge of his nose, like even asking the question pains him. “Need to call somebody?”

Bakugou looks incredibly uncomfortable- eyes shifting around wildly and refusing to settle. All of his battlefield-confidence, even that self-assured smirk seems to have disappeared entirely. He huffs a pained breath and leans back against the wall next to you. His shoulders are just barely touching yours, voice pinched and tense when he speaks.

“I know it’s loud- but it’s over now. Now you just go home, and you sleep. Nothing is gonna happen to you.” Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Bakugou tilts his head skyward. He grinds his teeth, once, twice, and smooths out his grimace. “And I’ll fuckin’ be there so don’t go spiraling about it, alright? You’re safe now.”

You nod, rolling your lips together for a moment. He’s not meeting your eyes, not even attempting to, but you can’t help but stare. Can’t help but track all the lines of his face; the way his nose slopes, and the set of his eyebrows. He doesn’t look like before. Not crazed, or manic, or brutal. He’s just Bakugou. Maybe a little grumpy, but mostly just uncomfortable- exactly the way you’ve come to know him.

Something in you settles at bit at that.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Let's go." You kick off the wall, putting one foot in front of the other. "I'm more than ready to be home."

Bakugou just watches you, and you can see him reach a hand out before immediately dropping it. His lip curls up in disgust- and that just confuses you. You wonder where the Bakugou from a few minutes ago went; the one who seemed so entirely sure of himself.

"Faster." He says, overtaking you in one long stride. "Stallin' around at night is never a good idea."

You suppose he's right, but you never would've believed him before.

Prior to tonight, you had never been a part of a villain attack. You hadn't even seen a villain on anything other than TV re-runs. Your neighborhood was quiet, the streets never holding any danger, even at night. Now, though, every shadow seems suspicious, every sound a precursor for something far worse. Your well aware you just got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time that night, but that didn't make the reality any easier to handle. If Bakugou hadn't been there, if he hadn't show up dead on your balcony months ago, then you would've been gravely injured by all that falling debris.

The thought makes you feel weak all over again. Has your fingers curling in your gloves- itchy and uncomfortable and helpless.

You're quiet as you walk, caught up in a million spiraling thoughts. Bakugou doesn't seem keen on conversation either, keeping a few paces ahead and scanning for other danger. Occasionally he'll turn back, check to make sure you're following, and all you can really offer is a nod and a shaky sort of smile. It doesn't satisfy him at all- you can see that every time he sets his jaw.

"Oi- Leech." He snaps in front of your eyes, waving his hand back and forth. "It's- stop lookin' like that already. All freaked the fuck out. You look ridiculous."

His haughty tone as your blood warming, fingers clenching at your sides as you walk. You're not sure what reaction he's after, but all you can really think to do is get angry.

"I am freaked out! You were there! You saw that guy! He was huge!" You snap, squinting your eyes and waving your hands around. "If you weren't- I- what am I supposed to do when that shit happens? Huh? I can't fight, and even if I could I wouldn't, so what am I supposed to-"

"Nothing." He interrupts. "You do nothing, and you hide. Like you did."

"Yes, because you pushed me! If you hadn't I would've been crushed by all that- and how on Earth did you even know he was coming?"

"Vibrations. In the ground." He squints at you, a little confused. "Did you not-"

"No!"

"Damn," He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. "You really couldn't feel that? Jesus, you really are clueless. No wonder you were so freaked out."

In that moment, you're a little sure you could strangle him. All his skill you'd seen earlier suddenly didn't matter at all, and you were sure you could take him down with nothing but rage alone.

He- vibrations? You didn't feel anything! You felt nothing and even if you had, you would've assumed it was an earthquake. No one except for him and his battle-addled brain would've ever assumed it was a villain of all things!

"Calm down," He seems to be fighting a smile, lip twitching up. "You look fuckin' ridiculous right now. 'm not scared of you, leech."

"You should be! I'm about to strangle you right now-"

"For what?"

"For- for- I don't know! You just make me so angry with your 'Oh, you didn't feel that?' bullshit!" You tilt your voice lower, coating it in gravel to mimic him. "Of course I didn't feel anything! I'm not like you- I don't have freaky super-human instincts and explosions and I can't just go fight somebody!"

True to his word, your outburst doesn't seem to scare him. If anything if seems to pull the smile from him more, lips pulling back into a grin even he has no chance of hiding.

"There she is." He stuffs his hands in his pockets, falling back a little to walk right beside you. "Thought you'd gone into shock or somethin'."

"So you- on purpose?"

"Said that shit about vibrations? Yeah." His smile turns wolfish, all sharp canines and pink gums. "There were no fuckin' vibrations, idiot. I heard the plaster cracking."

In that moment you're the surest you've ever been- you were going to murder Bakugou Katsuki.

"You dick!"

Your hands are out before you can stop them, shoving forcefully at his side. He just looks at you, rolling his eyes, and then decides to let you tip him sideways off the curb. It's the worst kind of victory- a pity one that he let you have.

"Chill out, already." He laughs. "Only said shit so you'd stop bein' all miserable. You should be fuckin' thankin' me."

"I'm not thanking you!"

He steps forward, one long stride eclipsing you entirely. Then he spins, facing you with another crooked grin, and you're digging your heels into the cement to avoid crashing directly into his chest.

"I said-" He starts, hands in his pockets and leaning forward until he's practically towering over you. "You should be thanking me."

His voice is low, sly and challenging as he grins. He looks positively predatory- but attractive too. The worst kind that leaves your heart stuttering in your chest for almost no discernable reason.

"G-get away from me." You fluster, taking a step back. "I'm not thanking you."

He shrugs, falling back to a safe distance. You don't miss it though- the way his grin goes just a little wider, entirely satisfied. He won, and he knows it.

"Suit yourself, then leech." He says, voice light. "If ya wanna mouth off so much, then 'm not fuckin' saving you next time."

He says the words, but you're almost entirely sure he doesn't mean them. Not with the way he is now- beaming and pleased under the moonlight. You wonder if he always gets like this; so happy just after a victory. It's the kind of sight that almost makes the entire ordeal worth it. Almost.

You walk through the doors of your apartment, shuddering a long sigh of relief. The walls feel safe, security and peace etched into familiar walls. Even with Bakugou stomping behind you, the serenity isn't disturbed all that much. He's still in his rare good mood apparently, and he doesn't even grumble whatsoever.

Truth be told, you're still a little shaken, but the interior of your apartment puts you at ease. Even if you don't feel nearly as infallible as before, home is a good feeling- it always is.

"You know- you know that you just got unlucky, right?" Bakugou seems to struggle for a moment, kicking the door shut behind him. "It's- that's- shit like that doesn't usually happen here."

You're not sure where his sentiment is headed, and he must see it on your face. He flares his nostrils, sighing something long-suffering and dramatic.

"I'm sayin'- that wasn't part of anything else. It was just the one idiot, so it's not any more dangerous here than it used to be. 'm sayin' don't waste your time worryin' about that shit."

Something in you warms a bit- just a fraction. You're not sure how he knew, how he always seems to know just what you're thinking, but at this moment you don't care to find out. There are some comforts better left experienced instead of studied- and you figure this might be one of them.

You smile, something soft and fond. "I take it back- I will thank you. So thank you. I'm sure I'd be a lot worse off if you weren't around."

You watch him fluster, watch him itch in his skin and shift his weight around. Eventually he settles on turning his back, moving towards your fridge as he speaks.

"Probably. You froze up completely- woulda been piss poor job performance to let you get killed." He's swinging the fridge door open, and the white light just makes it more apparent- his cheeks are pink. "Got ice packs in here somewhere?"

"I-Ice packs?"

"Yeah. Knuckles are gonna bruise up if I don't ice 'em."

You look a little closer then, at his fingers curled around the handle of your fridge. His knuckles are a little swollen, bruised up and red where the skin had split. It doesn't look too bad, much less serious than any other injury he'd come to you with, but that doesn't change the itching in your own fingers. You want to help him- now more than ever it seems.

"Shit- sorry." You breathe out, nearing a little to get a closer look. "I was so freaked I didn't even think about asking- are you okay? You're okay, right? Nothing else, no bones or blood or-"

"Calm down. 'm fine."

You look at him again, squinting for eyes for a moment. He just rolls his own, extending his arms out and flipping them. He was telling the truth- there's only one other scratch on him, and even that was already scabbed over. The only issue were his knuckles- and that sets you at ease.

"You want me to wrap them for you?" You ask, looking up at him. "Oh wait- actually, you'd probably want to do that yourself, huh? Since you're not on the brink of death this time and actual-"

"You do it."

"Huh?"

"I said- you do it." He won't meet your eyes, turning back to your fridge and opening it up once more. He makes himself right at home, grabbing one of the water bottles off the shelf without asking. "Did it all the other times, so you do it. Don't think you're gonna get away with cuttin' corners on me."

"I didn't mean it like that. I just meant, that I know you find it annoying when I'm all fussy so I just-"

"Shut up already. You continuing to run your mouth is the only thing that's annoying me right now."

You're about to retort, something offended and assuredly juvenile, but you decide against it. That night had been filled with far too much conflict for your liking, and you weren't about to incite more of it. If he wanted you to wrap his knuckles, then you'd wrap his knuckles. You figured it's the least you could do for him.

Turning your back on him, you start for the bathroom, and the first aid kit inside. A part of you considers just permanently moving the kit into the kitchen, but that sort of seems like you're just inviting more misfortune. You keep hoping that one day you'll stop having to patch Bakugou up at all, but from the looks of it, that isn't likely. Not even a little bit considering his obvious bloodlust.

"You wanna-" You start, walking back into the kitchen. You're shocked into stillness by the sight of him searching through your cupboards. "Um, what exactly are you doing?"

"Hungry."

"Okay, caveman, I just- you're not seriously trying to cook right now are you?" You near him, hands hovering in the air. You're sure he wouldn't appreciate it, but a large part of you just wants to grab at his shoulders and shove him away from everything. "Stop that- lemme get you fixed up first. Then I can call for something. I'm not gonna let you exert yourself any more than you already have."

Bakugou seems a little perturbed by that, whipping his head around until you can see wild red eyes. You almost sigh; what you wouldn't give for him to just chill out for once.

"I'm not saying you can't cook. You probably could, I don't know." You near a little more, dropping the first aid kit onto the countertop. "I'm saying, you've already done enough today, and you deserve to take it easy. So let me help you by wrapping your hands up. That's all."

Bakugou's in the midst of another internal struggle, before he visibly forgoes it. His shoulder's drop and the tension leaks until he's settling into one of your dining chairs. He sets his hands out on the table, clearing his throat at you until you kick into motion.

At this point, cleaning up his hands is practically a daily chore. You've gone through the motions more than enough times to be adjusted, but even still, his hands still freak you out a little. You'd never seen anyone who radiated so much heat- even just being next to him was like sitting in front of an open flame.

Your fingers are gentle, skidding over his hands with feather-light touches. He seems to slump in his chair, eventually just laying his head on the outstretched arm you weren't actively working on. He watches you closely the entire time though, red eyes burning holes into the side of your head.

"Do it again." He says. "Too loose. Do it again."

You're half-way through wrapping his right hand, only a small amount of bandage left. Not only would you have to do the bandage over entirely, but you'd have to unwrap it completely first.

"You always say that," You mutter, exasperation coloring your voice. "What makes it so much better the second time around, huh? I do it the exact same."

"It's just better. Takes longer."

You're not really sure what he means by that, and Bakugou doesn't look all that thrilled that he said the words at all. He jumps in his chair, cheeks gone pink as he digs his face into the skin of his arm. He's hiding.

It strikes you as even but odd, but you shrug off the strangeness all the same. You're getting far too used to his particular brand of bizarre.

"All better now?" You goad, patting the bandage after you've finished re-wrapping. "Everything feel nice and perfect for Prince Bakugou?"

He lifts his head. "You're not funny."

"You always say that too. But it's okay, I know one day you'll finally come around and appreciate me."

He just laughs under his breath, but he smiles too. Grins something tiny and small that he hides in his shoulder.

You start finishing up his other hand, and Bakugou doesn't say anything otherwise. He just sits, resting his head on his arm, and watching you intently. He's all calm and even breathing, chest rising and falling in perfect rhythm. You'd thought him adrenaline-crazed earlier, but it seemed he was coming off of that high rapidly. You could feel the exhaustion too- almost lulled by your movements just as much as he was.

You start gathering away all of your materials, and he doesn't even move. Just sits in perfect stillness at your table.

"I- I didn't accidentally touch you right? That's not why you're like that?" You ask, smothering a yawn. "Super exhausted, I mean."

He shakes his head. "Nah. Normal tired. Didn't fuck up this time, leech."

You don't have it in you to respond, hardly even rolling your eyes at his remark. His jabs don't hold much bite anymore- you begin to wonder if he's actually getting nicer or if you're just growing a ridiculous tolerance.

You brush off the thought, pushing away from your table and rising from the chair. "You still hungry?"

"Yeah. Wanna sleep first though so don't worry about it."

"Okay; well, I'm definitely going to so-"

"I said don't." He supplies evenly, finally sitting up in his seat. "It's fine. 'm not fuckin' starvin' or anything."

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

His insistence sells you, but you're not sure if it's because you actually believe him or because you just want to. Either way, you figure it doesn't matter much in the end, not to the way your limbs are quickly bowing to exhaustion. You feel the fatigue settling in, and you'd like to blame that for your next actions.

"C'mon then, sleep time, I guess." You say.

Then you cross the kitchen, passing behind him, dropping your hand on his shoulder. You hardly let it sit, just running your thumb over his shirt once, twice, and then continuing on your way.

He takes several seconds to finally follow you into the living room. Enough to have you looking back in confusion, unable to understand why he looked so very stunted where he still sat.

"Jesus, you're annoying." He finally grumbles, rubbing at his eyes.

His steps are loud as he crosses the room, stopping just a few inches in front of you. He grabs at your arm, raising your wrist himself and plucking the glove off in one fluid grab. It if wasn't so sudden an action- so ridiculous and fast and borderline violent, you might have even been flustered.

As it was though, he just grabbed your wrist before you could really register it.

Familiar warmth floods your veins. The same burning, slow heat that makes it;s way through each vein and artery. You think maybe your knuckles ache a little bit too, but it's too hard to tell through your quickly increasing sleep fog.

Bakugou lets you go pretty quick, falling back on your couch in almost the same moment.

"Better?" You ask, mirth warming your words. "Had to do it yourself because I was taking too long?"

"No, 'cause you pissed me off."

"Doing what?"

"You know what you're fuckin' doing."

Then he's grabbing the blanket, settling it over himself gracelessly while he flops over. He's face-first into the cushions now, effectively ending the conversation in much the way he typically does- by refusing to engage entirely.

You just roll your eyes a litItle fondly, still not even beginning to understand.

/-/

ooooo boy i am so sorry y'all for this late uPDATe,,, pls i usually update my fics way faster than this but sometimes life rlly just do be happenin lmaoooooo

n e wayz, ty for reading and supporting my work!! y'all are the absolute best i could ever ask for!!!

[kusagrasskusa]

Hanzo Hisashi X Innocent! Reader

Thank you EzraPFoxglove01for requesting this adorable thing! I sorta changed a lot you asked for by making it go into depth, and it ended up being the longest story I've ever written lol. So I'm definitely gonna add a shorter, more cutesy version of this story soon.

Change her outfit all you wish; it doesn't have a big part in the story at all. Though due to where she lives, it sorta makes sense for traditional Japanese wear to be her attire. And this is the kimono I have in mind, but change whatever :D To be honest, it makes sense to change the look to be more suitable for fighting while still maintaining an innocent, feminine character.

Word Count: 6733

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hay....ya!" A feminine voice yelled out as she kicked a large hole into a tree. She didn't really have an specific training area so she often kicked and punched holes into tough looking trees, which proven to be as affective as training dummies and whatnot. She pulled away from the tree with a large smile on her innocent features.

She held her arms up to her chest with clinched fists. "Alright! Just 113 more to go," she reminded herself as she prepared for another kick. Yet just before she kicked the tree, she heard rustling in the bushes surrounding her.

She paused and looked around her everywhere. The wind began to blow which made it hard to hear whoever or whatever move again as the wind blew the all the bushes. She made a pouty face and walked over to where she heard the noise the first time. She had a bag that wrapped around her colorful kimono that contained kunai knives, and she pulled one out just in case. To be honest, with her small, airhead, and pouty form, she was the least intimidating person most people could ever see. And her small, F/C kimono with cherry trees on it added onto it.

The wind slowed down for a second and in that time, rustling in the bushes was heard again, where it did last time. "Huh?" She hummed as she slowly and cautiously opened up the bushes. "W-Who's there!" She yelled nervously as she parted the bushes completely. "Ahhh!" She screamed as she stepped back, tripping on whatever she stepped on. A baby bunny jumped on top of her from the bushes, it's guinea pig looking face staring boldly at her. Fuck it was frightening for a bunny to withhold so much toughness and boldness.

She whined as she pulled the bunny of her, causing it to run away quickly. She stumbled to her feet, barely managing to maintain her own balance for a moment. She watched the bunny hop away into the forest as she calmed her nerves. Once it disappeared, she sighed and opened her bag to put away her knife. Yet the sound of a voice behind her caused her to throw it towards the voice with perfect aim and fast speed. Yet as she turned around, she saw her kunai knife had been frozen but it wasn't frozen quick enough to prevent the one and only Kuai Liang from behind cut a little.

"Good aim," the Sub Zero complimented in his deep and husky voice, a smirk on his face. He pulled the kunai from the ice prison it was it and tossed it towards Y/N. Y/N's innocent E/C eyes widened as she gasped.

"Liang!" She ran towards him to hug him– but no, we can't have that without her tripping halfway. "Oof!" She hit the ground hard and whined as she slowly stood back up. She had cut her face on a rock but that wasn't good enough for her to not want to hug him just as hard. So once she stood up, she lunged at him and hugged him so incredibly hard. "I missed you! How are you!"

Kuai chuckled as he softly wrapped his arms around her. "I see you haven't changed one bit, dear friend." It's true that the two of them are close friends; although they don't have any fundamental qualities in common, they managed to meet one day and their opposite personalities captured each other's interest. And so here they are, together after departed months back. Right after Sub Zero and others were free from Quan Chi, the two got close again and only had a couple weeks to get close again before Kuai had to leave. Finally, months later, they're together again!

"I've been just fine, L/N. How about yourself?" He asked as he pulled his arms down. As expected, Y/N didn't let go and continued to sway back and forth.

"Oh, I've been good! Sorta lonely, yeah but I met this one guy! He leads an entire clan that let me in!" Y/N sweet voice called out in reply, her eyes twinkling. "I don't see him often but we've been talking a lot more recently. He's really nice...like a big, strong, teddy bear, hehe," she giggled as her legs went limp. Kuai chuckled at her dramatic description and pat her head; pushing the person she's talking about to the back of his mind. She got back on her feet again and pulled away from him. "Sooooo...do you have any combat stories to share? An adventure?"

Kuai shook his head. "Unfortunately nothing to tell now, but soon," he spoke as he looked up at the bright blue sky. It was maybe 8 in the morning  at the time. Y/N held her arms in front of her as she swayed back and forth as her head tilted in confusion.

"Okay...Oh! There's flowers growing around here and I want you to see it. They're so pretty- and pink," She emphasized as she took Kuai's hand and pulled him to a nearby pond. The trees surrounding the pond were waves with red and pink flowers ground from them. It's hard to tell, but in the distant was a village. And jn that village was, drum roll please, Hanzo Hizashi himself. As the two friends spoke about the scenery, Hanzo had just gotten ready for a day of training.

As he stepped outside, he took a deep breath and examined the place surrounding him. The birds were singing, the soft winds brushing past the trees and plants, the warm sun and clear skies. The sound of children playing can be heard from the background. It was pure bliss really. Yet even so, he had an uneasy feeling wash over him. The feeling that there could possibly be an unwanted visitor.

Hanzo walked closed the door behind him and walked out. He took his time going from his home to a place a little outside of the village; a more personalized dojo. It contained dummies and targets designed for his spear and fire. The little dojo was little ways across a pond near the village so that's where he was headed.

"And that's why that's my favorite color," Y/N said as she finished her story. Kuai Liang, to be honest, wasn't paying attention to her at all and simply nodded. She smiled at his politeness to at least pretend to acknowledge what she's saying; Y/N knows she can get really immature sometimes and right now really isn't her best moment. "Eheh, so what do you want to do?"

Kuai looked over at her with a soft smile on his features. He really was such a peaceful man at heart. "I believe I saw a few rare ducks fly into the pond. Would you like to go see them?"

"You're not going anywhere."

Y/N sharply turned her head towards the pissed looking man walking towards the duo and gasped. She stood up, saying, "Kuai, this is the man that let me into his village! Hey Hanzo, this is Kuai‐"

"He already knows who I am," Kuai cut her off coldly and stood up. "Hanzo, I mean you no harm; had I known this was your territory, I would not have come." Hanzo pulled a sword from his back and held it up in a firey fists once he got close to them. Y/N stared idlely at them with growing anxiety. The two picked up on that quickly, making Kuai speak up again before Hanzo could. "The girl does not know of our rivalry. Don't punish her for my mistake, Hanzo‐"

"Do no speak to me like that. Leave at once!" Hanzo may be alive, but that doesn't mean he can't revert his voice back to his hellish Scorpion one. Kuai took a few steps back before turning around and disappearing. Hanzo and Y/N watched the whole way through in complete silence. Once Kuai was gone, they silence broke.

"I–"

"And you," Hanzo walked up to her and grabbed her by the collar of her shirt. "Exactly what made you think bringing a guest without permission was anywhere near exceptable? You endanger every one of us at this village that way." Y/N could feel his fire-hot breath against her as he spoke. A shiver fell down her spine as looked him right in the eye. She didn't respond, but rather bow her head. Hanzo scoffed, flames igniting from his fist that began to burn her clothes, making her whimper beneath him. She felt the flames heating up her neck, which made her whimper more as the pain wasn't something she was exposed to often. "Part of me wants to kill you right now. You are very lucky to have caught me in a better light."

Hanzo let go of her, stepping away. Y/N bowed her full body lowly, hands to her knees. "I'm deeply sorry sir, I really am. I promise I will never bring another guest again. I knew not of Kuai and your's relationship and if I had known when I met him in the woods a little bit ago, I would have got him to leave. It was foolish of me to have not stayed in the village and possibly risks a bloody situation. For that, I am sorry." As Y/N finished, she heard nothing but the sound of a sword being put away.

"As long as this never happens again, L/N," he spoke coldly. "I forgive you. You may continue what you were doing before he arrived here."

"Thank you so much, sir!" Y/N called out happily as she stood up straight with a smile on her face. "I promise you won't regret it!" Hanzo remained quiet and simply glanced down instead. A more calm and positive feeling took over his previous anger quickly, leaving behind a little bit of confusion. Y/N took a few steps back over to where that tree she was kicking earlier was before Hanzo spoke up again.

"I apologize for being so harsh, as well. You said you met you here; was this planned?" He asked her as he his fists were undone. Y/N shook her head when she turned back towards him. Hanzo examined her face for a moment before sighing, then a smile grew on his face. "Very well. I appreciate your honesty. Actually, would you care to join me for tea later? As leader of this clan, it feels right for me to know all my people, whether they are a weary traveler or blood."

"Of course I would," she said softly. "What time?"

"Tomorrow at dawn."

"So be it." And with that, Hanzo began to walk towards his dojo and Y/N walked towards her special tree. The two of them had that tea on their minds as they practiced whatever it is they were practicing. How would it turn out? Would Y/N innocent immaturity get her in trouble? Would Hanzo appear too serious? Will they make up and gain trust? Maybe something else? We'll see in the next paragraph.

Time flies by quickly when you're having a good time, and for Hanzo, he was quite happy about the thought of getting to know Y/N more. And also to learn more of her relations with Kuai. As for Y/N, she was nervous as all hell since she knows she can be a handful sometimes. To be honest, a simple deep breath was able to calm her down and bring the adult side out of her. So here she was now, looking at herself in the mirror of her guest cabin and taking deep breaths to calm her nerves.

"You got this Y/N," she told herself as she took her final deep breath. The kimono she was wearing was different as it was longer and above the wrists, meaning she was unmarried. It still had a pretty design on it, with the colors overall being F/C, pink, yellow, and blue. The had her H/C hair up in a bun with two strands falling over her shoulders. She had a pin that kept her hair up with a beautiful flower attached to it. To contribute to her Japanese asthetic, she had a folded fan that was black with red cherry trees designs in it in her hand.

She smiled at herself in the mirror one more time before she turned to face the door. She slid open the door to the guest home and put on her shoes before walking outside. She closed the door and prepared to head off the selected location. On the other hand, Hanzo was sure to be formal as well.

He wore a montsuki, which is a formal black kimono worn over a white under-kimono and hakama, which are traditional Japanese trousers. It was common for samurais to wear this underneath their armor, so it suited him well. After all, he was both ninja and samurai; he kept his hair in a man manbun as well. He was very good at maintaining a formal way of speaking and acting, yet he knew Y/N isn't all that. Someone as free spirited and naive really isn't all that capable of it, in his mind.

He was sitting down in a chabudai; one of those short legged tables that have cushions to sit on your knees on rather than to sit on chairs. At the moment, in another room of his lonely home, was a kettle that was boiling water. Authoress is not a Japanese fanatic who knows Japanese and is basing these designs of real Samurai and Wife dolls by their bed, I swear. It was perhaps halfway done by the time he heard a voice call from the outside of the front door; "Hello, it's Y/N. May I come in?"

Hanzo smiled softly to himself as he stood up and walked over to the door, sliding it open. To say he was shocked to see the free spirited girl in such a good-mannered attire was an understatement. "You look lovely tonight," he stated as he looked Y/N head to toe. On Y/N's side, she noticeably blushed and gave him a sweet look.

"You look lovely as well, truly."

Hanzo raised a brow and stepped aside for Y/N to step inside. And rather than her normal fast walk with swaying arms side to side, she slowly walked in with her hands held together in front of her. "I haven't yet seen this side of you, Miss L/N. I am a proper kind of person so don't think I won't hold it against you if you act unmannerly," he teased as Y/N giggled to herself and took her shoes off at the front door.

"I thought that maybe I should act a bit more, I guess, fancy in order to match you. As long as you don't believe in the whole women are beneath us bigger men and shouldn't talk unless spoken to thing, then this shouldn't be too hard, hehehe," Y/N said as she was lead to the chabudai by Hanzo. She sat down on her knees on side and he on the other.

"Of course I would not act on such a thing. We are all human with equal rights," Hanzo replied as he sat his hands in his lap. His looked down at Y/N'a hands, which were on the table, before shooting her a look that told her that she was doing something wrong. Y/N hummed in confusion before gasping lightly. She put her hands in her lap and smiled innocently, creating a chuckle from Hanzo.

Come to think of it, the hone hasn't yet been described. It's easy to imagine the paper and wood that made up the walls and doors, and the warm light that shun over the two people. The carvings on the wood above them and around them, the large pot with a bonsai in it in the corner of the room. The little wooden seats with drawers distilled in them built into the walls of the home. The wooden tables with traditional statues and little plants in pots across the home. The sword holder near the front door, the mats across the floor to give the unique taste. In the kitchen had built in furnaces where people would burn a fire in the wholes on the bottom and put cooking appliances and kyūsus on top of it. If you don't want to imagine that, here's something help.

"Have you ever studied Japanese arts? Surely you must have had some experience in a place like this, or perhaps a friend to lecture you on what to do," Hanzo explained his thought process as he looked interestingly at the smaller girl.

"Actually, I had Kuai teach me a lot about Chinese culture. But when I met a swordsman named Kenshi, I learned more of Japanese tradition. I may not be the best, but I tried to use my knowledge of both cultures to act as good as possible! Um, I mean," she paused as her face lit up red. "To act as good as possible." She but the inside of her lip nervously as she grew more and more embarrassed of her voice level as she spoke. Hanzo chuckled.

"I'm glad I invited you here. You are very knowledgeable it seems. Plus quite entertaining," he complimented. The kyūsu began to steam loudly, meaning it was finished. Hanzo glanced over to the kitchen.

"Heh, I wouldn't say knowledgeable," Y/N replied, "but thank you." Hanzo stood up, nodding his head towards her as he walked put of the room.

"I apologize but the tea must be attended to. I will be back in a few moments," Hanzo explained before he disappeared behind a wall. Y/N nodded in understandment and began to fight with her hair, kimono ends, fingers, and whatever else she could once he walked out. When Hanzo walked into the kitchen, he felt heat rise to his face. He leaned onto a little table with his hand on it to keep his steady and his other hand over his chest. Oh kami, he thought, she gets cuter each time I see her. Whether she's trying to be like me but failing miserably or being her bubbly self does not matter; she is perfect.

He did his best to calm his nerves before grabbing the kettle from the furnace and grabbing a kyūsu, an appliance for making tea, and slowly pouring hot water into it. He made a kind of sweet green tea, one that many foreigners don't know about, called Sencha. It has to be made with the coolest kind of hot water, basically, otherwise it will turn bitter. He made sure the watch it carefully for about half a minute before grabbing two cups and pouring the tea. He then picked up the two cups and headed back to the chabudai. Yet before he got to the room, he paused.

A feminine voice sung a soft song as she waited for Hanzo to return. Hanzo felt his cheeks heat up again and his chest felt warm. He could recall this feeling but from where he first felt it is unknown to him. The ready may be able to assume that he was thinking of his first love, his wife, and how he felt when he fell in love with her. But that idea hadn't even crossed his mind as he felt there was no way he could ever feel such an extreme emotion towards anyone else. And marriage isn't even a question since she isn't from the clan. He took a deep breath before walking back into the room.

Y/N stopped singing and she smiled widely as she saw him. "Hey Hanzo! Or, um, sorry, haha. The tea smells very nice," she complimented as she gripped the sides of the cup with her little fingers. Yeah, there was definitely a way he could feel such an extreme emotions towards anyone else. Hanzo sat down on his knees on the other side of her, mumbling a quick thank you to Y/N and a thank you to the Gods' gift of tonight. And in his mind, a thank you for what to him felt like a gift from the Gods' to end his grief from his early wife.

"Mm! This is really good!" Y/N gasped after tasting it. "This is the best tea I've ever had!" Her eyes were wide in awe and her expression showing her impressment. Hanzo chuckled at her adorable reaction as he took a sip of his wom drink. It's been maybe 8 minutes since Y/N got there and she already forgot to remain all traditional and civil. It was adorable to him; she was so precious really.

And throughout the night, the two of them talked and laughed and jokes and got close. They remained at the chabudai most of the night, aside from when Y/N asked for a tour. She adored the bonsais, scenery that can be seen from outside the window, paintings around the home, and everything. She was so naive but to Hanzo, that wasn't particularly a bad thing. It made her all the more fun to be around. And because of how great of a night they were having, they even agreed to meet up the next day.

"Excuse me, Miss Y/N," Hanzo said as he stood up from the chabudai. "I will be back in one moment. Please help yourself to more tea if you'd like."

"I will," Y/N responded sweetly. Oh, on a side note, Y/N completely forgot about the traditional thing completely so don't expect her to stay put in the few minutes Hanzo was gone. Actually, by the time Hanzo came back, Y/N had her head in her arms on the table her body slowly rising and falling with the rhythm of her breaths. Hanzo couldn't help but find himself smiling down at her. He got that warm feeling in his chest again though it was different this time. It wasn't as unfamiliar as before. He knew what it was; it was love slowly blossoming.

He sighed softly before picking up the sleeping girl's tired form and carrying her against his chest. She shifted a little bit in his grasp and ended up being hudled against him more, making that warn feeling in Hanzo's chest grow more. Such a sweet, innocent creature. He slid open his door and brought her back to her guest home, where he laid her in bed and brought her hair down from its updo in order for it to not be as bad of a mess tomorrow. He kissed her forehead and then left to sleep in his own bed until the next morning.

The next day was the same as the previous. And then the day after that, and the day after that day, and so forth. But one day was a particularly cold day and a cold blanket of snow began to cover the land. Y/N was at Hanzo's place, watching the snow fall through an open window with her E/C eyes wide in amazement at the beauty. Hanzo was standing behind her with two cups of tea in his hand.

"Would you care for a drink?" He asked, making Y/N turn around.

"Thank you, Hanzo!" She said as she took the drink from him and took a big sip. It tasted sweet, as it was the tea she had when she came over for the first time. "Say, I sorta wish we could have gone outside today. I noticed that you like to fight in that place by the pond a lot; which is really great to watch! You're so strong, hehe. But you've never actually seen me fight before," she explained right before she took a sip of tea. "Y'know, I'm painfully aware that people view me as an immature, innocent, naive girl who isn't the most aware of her surroundings. But I think you'll be impressed to see what I can do," she said confidently as she hummed.

Hanzo took a sip from his tea and nodded. "Perhaps. When it gets warmer out, I'd love to watch what you can do," he replied with an extra caring tone with his voice. He caught onto his tone quickly and blushed a little bit. "But there is something we can do outside," he started.

"What is it?" Y/N asked, standing up.

"Well, there's a hotspring nearby. We can swim in there if you'd like. However be sure to dress in something not too revealing if you would like to."

"There is? I'd love to!" She exclaimed as she bounced up and down. "I'll dmgi get dressed now," she eagered on as she put her shoes back on before leaving. Hanzo grabbed her up of tea and brought it to the kitchen. It's a shape it would go to waste, but he can always make more. He returned to his bedroom to grab something to put on while swimming but please, just imagine what he'd wear to swim. Traditional swimwear is too nasty to be used in this book, but swimming trunks are too modern. As for Y/N, considering she never had a particular home or culture, it made sense for her to just wear a full body suit she could have gotten from anywhere in Earthrealm.

Of course, the both of them were sure to bathe before hopping into the hot spring. Well, Hanzo slowly got in whereas Y/N jumped in without any care. It was warm, shocker there.

"Ahh...Thank the Elder Gods for getting me here before I froze to death," Y/N shuddered as chills ran up her spine. Though those chills were disappearing as the warmth of the hot spring washer over her soon enough. Hanzo rested his body against the large rocks around the hot spring and found a seat-like area. Y/N swam around happily and sung to herself.

Oh, one thing worth mentioning for the sake of the next paragraph is that Y/N had a necklace around her neck. Hanzo had never noticed it before as it was always under her kimono or shirt. However that necklace had a great significance go it; she was told that with that necklace, she would be able to find her parents who seemed to have lost her at birth. That necklace was the only thing that remained of them and hopefully destiny was kind enough to help her find her parents.

"Kyaa–" shrieked as a splashing sound was heard. Hanzo stopped daydreaming and looked over at Y/N, who's hair covered he face and arm frantically tried to keep her body floating. She quickly pushed her hair out of her face and whined over and over again worried. Hanzo instinctively swam over there as fast as possible, grabbing ahold of her gently yet sturdy. "Where is it!" She cried out, feeling her body and looking around the waters.

"Where is what?" Hanzo asked in his husky voice that was now in a confused tone.

"My necklace! I can't find my necklace!" She replied worriedly, tears swelling in her eyes. Hanzo looked at the tears forming and felt his whole body shiver woman's his heart drop. "I can't see it anywhere!" Hanzo began to swim towards the rock formation he was against earlier, making Y/N cry out, "wait!"

"Y/N," Hanzo sternly spoke. "I will find your necklace and return it. Worry not, please, dear friend," he reassured, taking her hand in his. She shook nervously and wiped her tears. Slowly, she nodded which told Hanzo he could swim away now. And so he did; he headed towards the stop where she cried out and with one deep breath, he went underwater. He had to hold his nose for warm waters were very dangerous to go under as dangerous fungi grow in hot waters. Yet even so, he swam to the bottom of the hot spring using one hand to stir around to look for the necklace.

Y/N waited on the rocks, sniffing and whimpering. She hasn't told Hanzo the origin of the necklace, but he could tell it was important to her. When she was little, she was handed the necklace and was told it would help her find her missing mother as long as she stayed pure. What that means is that Y/N had to remain free from murder, theft, and other ways of sin. Not only that, but she could not ever preform certain adult actions as then she would never find her parents (I say that because Y/N never had a parent figure to teach her what nono stuff is), which is her number one goal in life. She grew up going from city to city, state to state, country to country, and even had been in Outworld before. She grew up with so many cultures and had never found someone that was like her in any way. It felt like she didn't have an identity as she had nothing to trace her orgins to.

Splash! Hanzo took a deep breath of air as he finally reached the surface again, with a silver necklace with a S/F/C gem inside it that's carved to show an unknown design. "Is this your necklace?" He asked as he held it up. Y/N gasped, lunging back into the water and swimming towards Hanzo. Once she got up to him, she wrapped her arms around his muscular figure and cried.

"You found it! Thank you so much!" She cried out happily, pressing her body against him. Hanzo blushed at the sudden affection and slipped the necklace back onto her. He adjusted the back of of it so it wouldn't fall off her so easily again. "I love Hanzo... You're the best friend I've ever had... I really mean it," she whimpered out. Hanzo began to swim towards the rock formation again and once he did, Y/N let go of him.

"I appreciate it, Y/N. I love you as well, you're the closest friend I've ever had," he said back to her with a warm smile on his features. Y/N smiled back at him before examining her unharmed necklace.

"Hmm... Ever since I could remember, I would move from every country in the world to another. I've been to Paris, Beijing, New York, London, Los Angeles, a few different places in Mexico and Colombia, Holland, Tokyo, Osaka, and many more. I was carried from place to place by various of adoptive mothers, and each of them left a bit of their culture and identity with me by the time I left.

"But I had one that was a fortune teller and psychic. She was incapable kf having kids and didn't want to go through the trouble of raising one, so she took me, an 11 year old girl. She gasped when she saw me and took me in immediately. Before I left her, she gave me this necklace. "Y/N," she said, "you have the potential to see your real parents again. Train, grow stronger, read, grow smarter, listen, grow wiser. Stray away from the evil in the world and remain pure from your soul to your body. This is how you'll find your mother.""

Y/N paused and looked up at the larger male. He seemed intrigued with her story and made sure to listen carefully to her every word. So she continued, "as I grew older and began to travel on my own, I thought of her words every single hour of every day. I had no reason to live as I ever did was travel and meet new people, only to leave and never see them again. Just knowing who I really was became my only reason for existing. To this day, I bet the relief of meeting my real mom will feel like being deaf and hearing music, or being blind and seeing color, or being able to walk again after being paralyzed. But now," she paused.

Y/N smiled and looked up at Hanzo. "It's strange to feel so in place, so correct. I-I know I never felt this way about any place before! But I really think that as long as you're around, my chances of meeting my mom are good! Just being with you gives me hope for the next day, truly. It's like being with you is my reason to exist."

Hanzo closed his eyes and smiled back at her. He wrapped his arms around and embraced her warmly, his head being filled with nothing but pure bliss. Y/N hugged back tightly, feeling just as happy as he is right now.

And just as soon as it came, the day was over and the two had to return home and sleep. But this particular night, their dreams were better than usual. And two days later, the snow had cleared up and the ground was dry! That meant Y/N could go train today! Unfortunately, with her absent-mindedness, she forgot she wanted Hanzo to watch her so she remained in private as she kicked thicc ass trees down in two strong kicks and crushed stones into bits by simply punching it once.

"Hai...ya!" She called out as she forcefully brought her first to a stone celler that was abandoned randomly in the woods. But hey, no one was using it, so who's gonna cry about it being broken? The impact of her punch brought a giant circular impact onto the wall, and bits and pieces of it fell down. "Hehehe! 22 more to go!" She thought out loud as she pulled her fist back again. She wasn't alone in these woods, no, as there was a particular ninja/samurai person thing, idk, watching from the nearby bush. Not to be creepy of course! He was on his way to his dojo but heard noises, and discovered it was her after checking it out.

And d a m n. If Y/N saw his shocked face the first time he saw her punch the wall with that much force and endurance, she would laugh and tease him about it for a long time. He didn't expect her to be so quick in her movements and to cause such force. Like, a short little bebe in a pink, cutesy kimono with cherry blossoms being able to cause a fucking massacre to the wall? How could you blame him?

"Hmm... that reminds me!" Y/N exclaimed as she spun around to look at Hanzo. "I told you that you should watch me train! Is that what you were doing?"

Hanzo blushed heavily and was unfortunately incapable of hiding it in the direct daylight. "Indeed, Y/N. This is truly a wonderful sight to see," he replied as he looked away for a moment. Y/N gasped and ran towards him. He took a few steps back when he noticed how close she gotten, which caused him to get a little bit more flustered.

"You're sick? You're face is all red, Y/N whined as she pulled Hanzo closer. "You should be inside, mister, getting better! Not out here watching me fight when it's colder out here! Let's go bring you inside," he said as she grabbed his muscular arm and held it close. She turned towards the village of the Shirai Ryu and began walking towards it, pulling Hanzo along. How bold.

Hanzo but his bottom lightly and remained as flustered as before. "There really is no need, Y/N," he replied back.

"You're being quite irresponsible for a ninja, y'know," Y/N replied as she continued to walk him home. Hanzo sighed and just let her pull him along. He knew she would question him if he told her he wasn't sick so he choose into except it.

"Thank you for your concern," he replied lowly. Y/N giggled proudly and nodded.

"The best for you!" They arrived to the pathways of the village and began their walk. There was a few pedestrians walking by, including a dad and daughter and a separate woman. "I'll make you some tea and you can go to bed, okay?" Hanzo nodded, smirking to himself about how funny the situation really is.

"How caring," Hanzo spoke as they arrived at his home. The got inside and took their shoes off at the front door.

"Of course," she replied before heading towards the kitchen to make tea. Hanzo wasn't sick but he's been tired lately and what's wrong with sleeping in for one day? When he got the tea, it no doubt tasted way too bitter as Y/N doesn't really know what she's doing to be honest. But hey, it's the thought that counts.

Hanzo lied in bed, with an empty cup by his side and an small girl on the other. She sat on the bed, talking to him quietly about a bunch of random things until she said something strange. "To be honest, I know this is weird, but it almost feels like we're married sometimes. I mean, we're together all the time and have a very close friendship. You let me drag you in here and give you bitter tea even though you didn't want to. That's really nice, hehe," she giggled as she looked over at Hanzo. Her eyes shun something different from simply joy this time. Instead, it showed rather care. And potentially something more.

Hanzo felt a shiver go down his spine as he looked deep into Y/N's eyes. Emhe had to examine them to ensure that he wasn't just crazy or actually sick, but no, it looked like she really did care about him more than a friend. After all these months, it was officially, wasn't it? It was mutual. Hanzo smiled as he sat up on the bed. Y/N's cheeks lit up a little bit as he stared down at her with that look.

"Sometimes it really does feel like that, does it not? I can see as a good pair to be truthful. What about you?" Hanzo asked softly. Y/N cheeks flushed pink and her expression softened.

"I agree, definitely. I mean, how can I not, heh heh. You've been there from the very beginning and I've always seen you as this big, strong teddy bear of sorta. So sweet, so nice, so caring," she replied. Hanzo leaned in, making Y/N want to lean in too. And slowly, the pair came together and finally...they kissed. It was soft, tender, and it felt like it was meant to happen. Y/N's face turned red and Hanzo's tense emotions he felt disappeared immediately.

Heh, you know what? To be honest, they lady next door was known to be crazy about losing her baby girl a very long time ago. They had matching necklaces that were bought from a village far away from their's years ago when the Shirai Ryu was attacked by Quan Chi's forces. She escaped and went into hiding, and then found a man to marry to. Her child was named Y/N L/N, and whether she's not fully Japanese or fully related into the Japanese clan, she is blood and therefore she is capable of being the love of Hanzo Hisashi. Maybe the two of them will meet some day, huh?

[ac3id]

resilience [18+]

pairings: shigaraki tomura x female! reader 

summary: if you’re updated w/ the manga u prolly know shigaraki is now all beefed up phew. shigaraki stans stay winning. so here’s a fic where our struggling pro hero y/n wants to become stronger but working hard iisn’t working so she runs to shigaraki, the king of the underworld, to give her a quirk. shigaraki takes this as the perfect opportunity to teach a scum hero hero her place. 

warnings: dubcon-ish, shiggy is really mean, dumbification, size kink nasty nasty 

word count: 4k+ 

masterlist

From a young age, everyone around you had high hopes for you. Your parents wanted you to make them proud, your teachers wanted you to give your hundred percent always. Your friends admired you, they dreamed of being you. You were the golden child. Loved by everyone so, when you developed your quirk no one was shocked to learn that it was one of the strongest quirks out there.

Your parent’s dreams for you soared even higher and soon everyone was complimenting you and deeming how amazing you’d do as a Pro-Hero and you listened to them. You trained your entire childhood in hopes of becoming the No. 1 Hero, even got into a known Hero school, and graduated on top of your class. You thought you were invincible until you started your career as a Pro. 

It was hard. It was so much harder than you had expected. Apparently, your will to save citizens wasn’t enough to make you a legitimate Hero to the eyes of the public. Even if you worked your ass off it wasn’t enough. Weaker and useless Heroes whose only specialty was steering drama with others would sweep in at the last minute and take your victory as theirs’. 

You wanted to speak up about this but your agent had said you’d go nowhere; those Heroes had been in the business longer. No one would have taken your side, you were just a rookie. If you wanted to be admired, you had to also use cheap tricks and form connections with names. 

At first, you refused. It went against your moral code but soon after you started receiving angry phone calls from your peers; them explaining how embarrassing it was that no one even knew who you were, your mind quickly changed. Next thing, you are just like the others using cheap tricks working on your public image rather than actual Hero work. You thought finally it’d work and it did! After a few months, you were under the Top 30 Heroes list. The “hard” work had paid off now, it was only way upwards to the No.1 but you found yourself not rising the ladder. You were stuck in the Top 30. Nothing upwards but other Heroes were beating your position, it was all falling over again. You needed to do something to save yourself.

That’s when you heard about him. A man who granted people power, the King of the Underground. He acted like the Devil himself. Granting your desire for a price. People talked about him in hushed whispers, they acted if he did not exist but he did. He was very much there. His men had been terrorizing the country for so long; his men were hardest to fight. 

You thought about it. You could reach him and ask him for power, after all, you could do anything to be the No. 1 Hero. You couldn’t afford to disappoint the people who had supported you, your entire lives even deep down you knew the only reason everyone- anyone talked to you was for their own selfish reasons but that was okay. They were the only people you had.

So you rolled the dice and made up your mind to meet the Mad King. Shigaraki Tomura.

The hallway was run down and dimly lit; you watched your step as you moved forward not wanting to step over a dead rat or lizard. You were told that you’d see Shigaraki if you walked through it. Your heart beats faster with each step you take; the hallway is awfully quiet excluding the sounds of rats chattering away in the distance. 

Meeting him was not easy, getting this far had been hell. You had to make many calls and sit through many sleepless nights just to confirm the rumor all while making it look like you weren’t investigating Shigaraki Tomura behind their backs. You had gone through a great deal of trouble to make sure your identity was kept hidden from the Government. 

As you took the last turn you were met with a shut door. You latched on the handle, twisting it and pushing the door open. It was a meeting room. A long table stood in the room chairs all empty beside the very center. 

A man sat there, his legs propped up on the table resting over papers and pens dressed in an expensive suit, his long white hair scanned his face. A severed hand rested on his face red, angry eyes gleaming from the gaps of the fingers. Upon seeing to enter the room he crossed his hands over his chest, muscles bulging- almost ripping the sleeves open. He looks at you finally acknowledging your presence; glaring from behind the hand his gaze sends a shiver down your spine. You stand completely captivated and amazed yet scared under the presence of Shigaraki Tomura. 

You stand there frozen unable to move. You never thought you’d ever meet the most wanted man in japan like this: dressed in nothing but a t- shirt and jeans, unarmed and vulnerable 

 His harsh voice cuts through the air as he glares at you. 

“Well?” he asks and you walk inside the room. You stand there awkwardly, wondering whether you should take a seat or not, “Am I supposed to sit down too? Might as well ask if I can kiss your feet?” He snarls, the sarcastic comment leaving his tongue without any hesitance. 

He’s quite mean.

You mumble a quiet apology as you sit yourself a few chairs away from him- you’d like to keep your distance from this dangerous man, biting your lip you think of how you should start the conversation but Shigaraki is impatient. He groans in amusement and slams his feet on the table, flying the papers 

“What. The. Fuck. Do. You. Want. Why. Are. You. Here.”  His tone was harsh, filled with irritation. “I am here for the quirk.” Shigaraki’s brow twitches, he stares at you with confusion basking in his eyes. 

“Quirk?” he pauses tilting his head up facing the ceiling, his hand goes to scratch at his neck; breaking the skin. While he thinks to himself about what you could possibly mean, your mind starts thinking about in all the ways this scenario could work out. Maybe he’d give you the quirk and let you like you were promised, only come back when he needed your assistance in some task. To be honest, you weren’t quite ready to face that day yet. Second, he could kill you right here, right now for just thinking about something so obnoxious. And that’s about it. Those were the only two scenarios you could think of. You also thought of catching him off guard and bringing him back to the Hero Commission but you also knew he was way stronger than you. You silently prayed that you’d get out of this alive and well. 

For a second, you thought Shigaraki had fallen asleep. He was too quiet and the hand on his face did not help in distinguishing whether he was sleeping or not. 

“Shigaraki,” you called and he turns his face back to you, “You’re that fucking Hero.” he spits with disgust. “You want a fucking quirk right? I was told I’ve got an appointment with some scum Hero who wants to get stronger.” You did not pay attention to his belittling. You had gone through much worse hate and had survived. 

“Yes, now, would you please tell me how I can get one.” you added the ‘please’ mockingly, it seemed to affect the villain.

“I don’t help pigs like you.” 

You almost rolled your eyes, there was more convincing to do and you did not want to talk- hell- breathe the same air as this man but you couldn’t return home alone. You had to endure it. You took a deep breath and calmed yourself down, getting ready for a long night. 

“I couldn’t care less what you think about me. I was promised a deal and I expect you to keep your end of the bargain up.” you sighed, “Just for walking through that door and sitting here I had to pay a lot out of my pocket. I’m not leaving until you give it to me.” Your voice was sturdy and rigid. Exerting confidence, for a moment you felt strong. Talking back to a wanted villain like him gave you a false sense power. He sat silently, lost in thought again. 

“You’re gonna be here a while? That’s bothersome. But….you do know that I can just kill you and leave? Make it easier for both of us.” he finished. Anger surged through your veins as you decided against choking him to death. “Shigaraki. Please.” you begged, Godamnit. As much as you wanted to rival his hate towards you, you were smart and knew that you couldn’t afford to make any rash decision now because a single touch from him could mean game over for you. “You’re begging now?” He scoffed, “Okay, tell me why you want it so bad.” You bite your lip deciding whether you should go along with his idle chit-chat. 

“Listen. I really need it. I’m stuck in a useless rank and the walls keep closing in. I don’t disappoint the people around me. It’s really important to me. I don’t expect you to understand but- shit if you want me to beg I will. For that power, I’d do anything.” 

An eerie silence filled the room, Shigaraki remained quiet. He thought about what he could want from you. There was nothing, you were useless to him- a waste of time really. He should just decay you and leave. That would be the right thing to do but then again, the way you looked at him with desperation in your eyes stirred something in him. Maybe it was the unconscious acceptance you held knowing that he is in charge. The power imbalance was starting to get him going. He could imagine you wrapping your pretty, plump lips around his fat cock while he used your throat as he pleased. He was a little tired after all. Maybe he’d even give you a weak quirk and let you off to do your worthless heroics. 

“So you’d really do anything?” He was intrigued. You didn’t want to say yes because you knew he’d make you do something horrible, something you could never really recover from. You could see it in his eyes but in the end, you knew. 

“Yes. Anything,”

He quickly lifted the severed hand from his face and placed it gently on the table, you genuinely wanted to cry. His lips curled at the corner, his lips split into a menacing smile. It was evil, it was dangerous yet it was the calm before the storm. The crazed smile only made you aware about how much you were going to regret this decision. It made you sick.

“Sexual favors. If you want this power, make me cum.”

Your eyes widen in shock, your mouth agape as you process his words. What? 

“You can’t be serious.” your voice was low, your heartbeat quickened and you felt your hands grow cold. Anger and confusion masked your consciousness. 

“I’m waiting.” he sang, his shrill voice sending shivers down your spine. He was joking, right? No way was he was actually expecting you to do it. Right?  He did not say another word instead pulled his feet off the table and slammed them to the floor. He spread his legs and patted his right thigh, looking directly at you with a smile, 

“you’re joking.” you commented. Shigaraki stopped smiling, his head lowered, bangs falling over his eyes; you could not see the face he was making. He clicked his tongue and the ‘tch’ sound resonating in the room, “You think I’m joking?” he asked, his voice now filled with annoyance. You did not answer; you did not what to say. You were beginning to think he was not messing with you, and that he actually wanted you to perform that horrendous act. 

His head turned back to you, his eyes spiraled into angry slits, vermilion orbs gleaming under the well-lit room displaying grim intentions. You knew he was serious. 

You took a deep breath, you knew the price of your dreams was high; the sacrifices you had to make: colossal. But right now, you were given a chance to obtain power- grow stronger to get a step closer to your goal but at what cost? If you, right now, gave yourself up to this notorious villain, what would you lose? Dignity? Pride? You had lost all of that the second you had entered the room. 

Nothing was left to lose. From all the horrendous things he coils have asked you to do, you should be glad all he wanted was some pussy.

You swallowed nervously as you got up from the chair moving towards him in brief, calculated steps. You stood in front of him, his knee at level with your crotch; he looks up at you and smirks. His knee jerks forward, pushing through your thighs and grinding up against your clothed cunt. You gasp in surprise, almost walking away from him. Your fists clench by your side and try to surpass any sounds from passing; the movement of your panties rubbing on your clit sends jolts of pleasure throughout your body. You bite your lower lip, glaring down at him as he continues to aggressively grind his knee on your cunt, your mouth falling agape as the sensations get too overwhelming and your climax starts building. A whine falls from your lips when it stops. Shigaraki abruptly withdraws his knee from your thighs, a wet spot forming on the expensive fabric of his pants. He looks at you and smirks, 

“Hero Slut.” he comments, making your blood boil, you try to retort but his fingers inch towards your hips, fingers pulling at the waistband of your jeans. 

“Take it off.” you hesitate for a moment, “take it off or I’ll dust It.” he threatens, you did not want to walk out the room half naked. You quickly tugged your jeans down, it pooled around your ankles. Shigaraki’s eyes never left your lower body, his eyes stayed glued to your pussy, almost drooling at the sight black and white striped panties. Feeling embarrassed under his predatory gaze, you push your hands forward, covering yourself making Shigaraki frown. He pushes your hands away and replaces them with his own. His fingers rub at your clit through your panties making you writhe in pleasure, you feel yourself get wet, a dark spot starting to form on your panties. Shigaraki glides his finger till your hole and drives them to your hips pulling at the waistband of the fabric and letting it hit your skin with a snap, you gasp. “You like that?” he asks, smirking and repeating the action, “Take this off too.” he finishes. 

He leans back in his seat spreading his legs while he watches you strip out of your panties, his eyes a shade darker clouded with lust. 

“You look better now.” his voice is low and condescending as he pulls you down to straddle his lap. His hands carefully moving up and down your torso, under your shirt, fingers touching the underside of your bra. He guides one of his hands to your hip, and claps around it pressing hard enough for a flash of pain to spark along the bone as he keeps you firmly pinned on his thigh. Gripping one of your thighs firmly, he restrains you from pressing them together. He runs a palm along the inside of your thighs in fascination, you feel yourself get worked up embarrassingly fast, “Look at you,” he barks, a crazed smile blooming on his face. 

“You’re all neglected. How often do you loosen up, whore?” His slender fingers trail downwards to your cunt, he runs a slender finger painfully slowly over your folds, buries it inside your hole moving it around and curling the digit inside you before withdrawing. His eyes scan your face as his thumb strokes down on your clit. Your eyes shut close as you bit your lower lip- trying your best to surpass moans which might further entice him. Your body jerks up with need as you gasp out, your hands balling into fists, choked mewls flow from the back of your throat, “I’m gonna fuck you stupid.” he growls 

“N-no.” 

Shigaraki chooses to ignore you as his hand grips the back of your head, pulling you closer towards him before pushing his lips against yours’ while the other hand reaches behind you, wandering across your ass, grabbing a firm hold of the soft flesh. He pulls away from the kiss and both you regain your breath, taking in as much as you can. Shigaraki leans in, you think he’s going to kiss you but instead, his lips hover over your ear. You feel his warm breath tickling your ear as he whispers in a raspy, broken voice. 

“If you want this power so bad,—" your breath hitched as he pushes another finger in your small cunt, “—grind that worthless cunt on my thigh.” 

You look down at him with half-lidded eyes zooming on his cock straining through his pants. He catches you staring. His eyes light up with amusement, “You want that too, huh? You’re just a cock hungry whore after all. Its fine, you all are,” He pulls his fingers out of your dripping hole and presses them against your lips. 

“Open up,” he commands. You hesitate for a moment but eventually, you obey. You open your mouth, only slightly yet he aggressively shoves his middle and pointer finger into your mouth. “I don’t wanna feel any teeth.” you pucker your lips around his finger, sucking his digits into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around his fingers, tasting yourself around him. Shigaraki sighs, “Laughable isn’t it?” he begins, “Do your Hero friends know how much of a pathetic slut you are? I bet they’d love you see you like: half-naked, sitting on Japan’s most wanted criminals lap, begging to be fucked?” He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, a ‘pop’ sound reverberating in the room. He pats your thigh, “Come on. If you please me good enough I might even give you my dick.” 

The realization hits you. Shigaraki wasn’t doing this entirely for his pleasure. He just wants to humiliate you, see you cry, call you names- anything to make you leave this place broken. A fair price.

A smug smirk reaches his face yet again as he watches you shift around his lap, straddling his left thigh. You put your arms cautiously around his shoulders for support, grounding your sensitive bundle of nerves down against his thigh, exhaling as the muscle rubbed against your clit in the best possible way. A tight coil forms in your lower abdomen as you frantically grind down, pleasurable sensations fogging your mind. His hands are still on your hips as you roll your hips in brisk circles against his thigh as you chase your climax, your mouth falls open at the sharp pleasure shooting through your body as you grind down faster, your mind grows hazy. Thoughts jumbled- and non-existent, only focusing on the rocking of your hips back and forth against his thigh. He occasionally flexes the muscle to intensify the feeling of your approaching orgasm, you’ve barely even had any stimulation and you’re already so close. You tug on your lower lip between your teeth, eyes skewered shut as you feel your orgasm building up, seconds away from erupting, and washing over your entire body. “Is the whore close?” Shigaraki speaks, “Looks like you I didn’t even have to fuck you stupid. You’re humping my leg like a bitch in heat. You’re already stupid. This is the real you. You just pretend- act as a functional member of this rotten society but deep down, you’re just a slut begging for a big cock to stuff her holes. Am I right?”  

“Shigaraki Tomura. Fuck you.” you manage to call out in between your moans. 

A blush creeps onto his face and his cock strains in his pants, the print now louder, and his cock begging to be freed. One of his hands leaves your hips and starts palming his cock through the fabric, he lets out a breathy moan as he examines your face: twisted in pleasure yet the look of hate and disgust still linger. Your displease from this entire scenario riles him up, what a disgusting man he is. 

He shifts his gaze from your face to your tits bouncing along the rhythm every thrust ; his hands roam underneath your shirt stroking your soft stomach and move to grope your tits through your bra. He kneads your breast through your bra before capturing it with all five of his fingers and changing it into specks of dust. Your shirt receives the same treatment and you whine. You sit there naked, grinding on his thigh while he is still dressed, calm and collected save for the bright pink blush on his cheeks. Sweat drips down from your forehead and a pink hue rests on your cheek. You look like a mess. 

“You look pathetic right now, you know?” he speaks. You know, you can imagine and you hate it very much. 

A moan escapes his lips; breathing heavily into your ear- he leaves tainted comments. Groaning occasionally as his lips find its way to kiss and suck bruises at your neckline, sinking his teeth and biting down, nipping on your skin leaving marks on your smooth skin all the while his hands violate your breast, greedily groping and kneading the sensitive mounds, rolling your nipples between his fingers, and harshly tweaking and tugging at them- your eyes roll back into the back of your skull, relishing in the pain.

His cock was straining in his pants; you could feel it poking against your thigh. He moves a hand to hastily unbutton and unzip the confinements of his pants, his dick hard against the fabric of his boxers. A wet stop forming at the tip.

He doesn't hesitate to shove his hands into his boxers, groaning and bucking his hips into his hand as he pulls his cock out. His cock springs upwards. It stands tall and hard yearning with need. Pre-cum spills out his leaking tip, red and angry,demanding relief. You stare at it, marveling the size of his girthy cock. You can tell by looking- he’s too big. It was going to be a tight fit. 

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to stare?” 

“It’s too big.” 

“So?” he asks, annoyance filling his voice as he feels himself get more riled up, “More prep-” you’re still grinding your pussy on his thigh, you try telling him how much you needed him to stretch you out before burying his ridiculously big cock in your tiny, pathetic, little cunt.  “Uh h pleaseee……....It will hurt otherwise.” His ears perk up at your shameless little confession. “It will hurt?” The obscene smile made its way back to his face and you regretted saying so. 

“It better hurt.” 

Shigaraki stands up to his full height, towering over you. You stumble and your hips hit the table behind you. You seriously looked like nothing compared to him. His shoulders broader and rigid, his arms buff and robust. Any hopes you even had in defeating him vanishes away into the air as he turns you around and bends you over the table. 

Papers scatter and fall to the ground, your breasts press against the cold wood and he captures both your hands holding them behind your back in one hand. His other smack your ass making you squirm, “Consider yourself lucky.” he groans, his cock lining up with your cunt, “I don’t fuck every common whore I see.”  His words sting and he pushes past your little hole, tearing it up, tears start to prick at the corner of your eyes. You sniff, “It hurts.” Shigaraki ignores you, lost in the way your small pussy gobbles up his fat cock inch by inch. “Shut up. It'll get better soon enough.” he speaks when he gets annoyed by your little grunts of discomfort. He doesn’t give you time to adjust as he bottoms out, stretching your pussy open. “There. It’s all in,” he spanks your ass making you wail out. 

The stretch burns but you soon feel yourself get wetter adjusting to his size. He starts thrusting his cock into you, using your pussy as his personal cocksleeve. He’s mean with it. He goes rough and fast, pushing his cock all the way till your hilt until his tip kisses your cervix. He laughs at how pathetically you whine, you plead for him to slow down but he doesn’t listen. He pulls you up to his chest by your hair, biting aggressively on your neck, whispering perverted remarks in your ear. He plays with you tits, rolling, pinching and tugging on your nipples. His hands are all over you, except where you need it the most- your clit. The hardened nub begs for attention, burning in need to be touched and played with yet he pays no mind to it choosing to watch you suffer in agony instead. 

“Pheweaze.” you beg, your tongue lolling out of your mouth. He catches the pink flesh between his fingers, petting it making it impossible for you to talk. “What’s that? What did you say? I couldn’t catch it.” He teases, pretending he doesn’t know what you need. He finally pulls his finger out of your mouth, still thrusting his cock into your cunt, “Pheleaseeee e touch my clliit. I need it.”  Finally, you manage to say a complete sentence. You embrace yourself in hopes of Shigaraki finally touching you but instead he chuckles, “Is that so? Is that what you need? I thought you wanted a quirk?” You cry out in frustration. Shigaraki laughs, his shrill laugh masking the lewd sounds of skin slapping against each other. He thinks for a while, looking at you de-flowered, broken to the point where you couldn’t even form sentences properly, he smirks to himself. He’s won.

His fingers snake down to your clit rubbing it avidly. You sigh as you finally feel proper stimulation. Soon enough your loud moans of pleasure fill the empty room and you feel yourself tighten around Shigaraki, “I feel that, your slutty little cunt is squeezing me. You are close, aren’t you?” 

Your moans quickly turn into pants as you let out a silent scream while you cream around Shgaraki’s cock, “You came, bitch?” he asks but you just whimper, your body still writhing with the intensity of the orgasm, “Ugh. Hero Slut.” His thrust gets sloppier, you can feel he’s close by the way his cock twitches inside of you. Next you know- you feel- is hot spurts of cum shooting inside of you, painting your insides white. 

You plop down on the table beneath you, your body exhausted. He pulls out of you and you quickly turn your head back to him, “The quirk..” you meekly ask. “Messy little slut,” he murmurs, ignoring you. “Makes me wanna mess you up even more.”

“Tomura Shigaraki. The quirk.” 

He hummed. “So you plan to go back and pretend you are something more than a worthless slut?-” 

“Tomura. The fucking Quirk.” you weren’t in the mood for any of his shit now, “Jeez fine. If you want the quirk so bad, here, have it. Clean it up well.” He’s motioning to his half-erect cock covered with his cum and your juices. “What the fuck.” You ask, getting up standing to your full height. Even though you were much shorter to him ( and very much naked ) you still wanted to show him that you could put up a fight. 

“I give the quirks. If you want it, you’ll need to ingest my DNA. And also, didn’t I say I’m gonna come on your pretty face?” Your eyes dart up to focus on Shigaraki's face – and shame washes over you as you witness his sinister look. He pushes you down on his knees and you come in level with his cock. 

 “Fuck you,” you stutter out, still trying to seem like you have any power, like you’re the one in charge.

He laughs, “Oh, I just did, sweetheart.”

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[bunnyywritings]

flying pigs

yukio okumura x gn!reader

day 5: pumpkin patch

word count: 1.4k

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬; 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟒 - 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭; 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟔

[a/n: I’m sorry this was posted so late, but here is day 5! I know he’s not a very popular character but I absolutely adore him, he’s so adorable and ugh his two little moles are so so cute 🥺 enjoy! -yours truly, bunnyy ]

The soft sunlight coming in through the blinds made Yukio squint, his hand coming up to rub the tiredness from his eyes. At his subtle movement, he felt you move around just a bit before snuggling back into his chest.

“Good Morning.” He chuckled softly, a smile growing on his lips when you hadn’t responded. He could tell that you were awake, your chest was rising and falling at a normal rate. He could also feel you smiling against his bare chest. “I said good morning, sleepyhead.” He whispered in your ear, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine but you still hadn’t responded. “I can play games too, my love.”

Before you could even think of responding, he had flipped the two of you over and was hovering over you. A satisfied smile on his lips as he stared into your wide eyes. Your eyes squeezed shut once more as he leaned down and pressed feather-light kisses all over your face and down your neck.

“Y-Yuki s-stop!” You wheezed as he started to tickle your sides. “Yukio!” Your laughter and his stirred the quiet air as he continued his merciless assault on your sides before finally letting up and collapsing onto the bed besides you.

Lying on his side he reached out and cupped your cheek to turn your head towards him. “Good morning baby.”

“Morning Yuki.” You leaned forward and placed a sweet kiss on his lips.

“We should start getting ready.” Yukio smiled against your lips before pecking them once more before the both of you finally got up from bed.

See, Shiro and the others at the church wanted to do a pumpkin patch on the grounds this year and he thought it’d also be a great way to meet his son’s fiance. You had never met Father Fujimoto before and while you knew he wasn’t Yukio’s birth father, he was a father to him all the same so to say you were nervous would be a gross understatement. Your hands wouldn’t stop shaking as you got ready. It wasn’t until you were struggling to get a bead of toothpaste on the brush that Yukio took notice of your nerves. He knew you were nervous, and so was he but he was also sure that they would absolutely love you.

Rin definitely did.

You got on with his twin quite well, which was both a blessing and a curse. Rin definitely bought out your mischievous side. Not that Yukio minded, that’s why he fell in love with you. You were silly and playful but serious when needed. You balanced him out. However, Rin was the gunpowder that always set you off and as much as he adored the fact that you got along with his, slightly, older brother...he wasn’t fond of the pranks that you both pulled. That’s when he was especially thankful for Shiemi who would, more often than not, calm Rin down with something as simple as a kiss.

Wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. “Relax (y/n), they’ll love you. I promise. And even if they didn’t, that would change absolutely nothing.”

“But there’s a chance that they’ll hate me.”

“Sure, if we see a flying pig today then there’ll definitely be a chance that they will absolutely hate you.” That was slightly comforting because the chances of seeing an actual flying pig were very slim but there was still a chance.

Finally leaving, it was a slightly tense drive to the church but it went by in the blink of an eye. There were a few kids running around and playing in the hay and parents picking out the perfect sized pumpkins to carve.

Yukio’s hand slipped into yours, fingers interlacing as the both of you walked around in search of Father Fujimoto. As you both approached a rather large wall of hay, there was something that made you stop dead in your tracks and tug on Yukio’s hand rather harshly.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“I-It’s….oh god….p-pig!” You panicked, stomach churning. Yukio was ready to brush it off and tell you that you were seeing things but he couldn’t.

There was a pig.

It wasn’t really flying? It was...hovering, which was slightly worse, over the huge wall of hay.

“What the-?” Yukio’s jaw dropped.

“Rin! Put that poor pig down! You’re going to drop it!”

Then came Rin’s ridiculous laugh before the pig disappeared. Both of you rushed your way around the corner and, sure enough, there was Rin with the little pig in his arms.

“Oh come on, old man, he’s fine!” The older twin turned the pig to face him. “Aren’t you, little guy?” He cooed as the pig seemed to squeal in agreement.

“Just put him back!” Father Fujimoto hissed and smacked Rin upside the head.

Rin leaned down and placed the pig back into the ‘petting zoo’ pen. Rubbing the sore spot on the back of his head before he caught sight of the both of you. “(Y/n)! Yukio!” He screeched in delight before running over and throwing his arms around the both of you. You chuckled at his enthusiasm and tried to hug him back as best he could.

As both of you greeted Rin, Fujimoto watched. He watched the way Yukio’s eyes practically glistened as he watched you engage a very excited Rin in conversation. He was looking at you as if you hung the moon and all its stars in the sky. His heart warmed at the sight.

“Oi Yukio! Aren’t you gonna introduce me to your fiance?”

“Oh right.” Yukio grinned. “Dad this is (y/n). (Y/n), this is my dad, Shiro.”

You gulped nervously. “It’s very nice to meet you Father Fujimoto.” You bowed before holding your hand out to shake his. He frowned. Your stomach dropped as a million thoughts raced in your mind. ‘Should you not have called him Father Fuimoto? Did he hate you already? Did he-”

“Oh there’s none of that, come here.” He gently pushed your hand away and pulled you into a hug, one that you gladly reciprocated as relief flooded your body. He then pulled away and held you at arms length and looked you over. “You're stunning...are you sure you wanna marry Yukio?” He was just teasing as his tone was playful and before Yukio could say anything witty back, a look of confidence and determination took over your features.

“Of course I want to marry Yukio. I love him with my entire being...he-he means the world to me.” Hearing the sheer certainness in your voice, Yukio swore that his heart would burst right then and there.

“Well then,” Fujimoto started to tear up a bit. “I’m glad Yukio found someone that loves him so much.” He squeezed your shoulders gently. “I hope you two are staying for dinner, we have much to celebrate.”

Before either of you could question why, Shiemi called out a greeting to you guys before coming over and sharing the news. Yukio was speechless as he saw Shiemi show off her engagement ring as you were now just noticing that Rin was also wearing one.

“Now go enjoy the pumpkin patch, we have some delicious candy apples over there.”

As the night went on, you and Yukio had gotten lost in the corn maze and played a few fun games before heading inside to eat some of Rin’s delicious cooking. Now you were all around the fireplace as Shiro shared embarrassing stories and baby photos of the twins who both had a permanent blush on their faces as they watched you and Shiemi coo at how cute they were.

“-and he would just cry and cry until rin came over and helped him out.” Shiro cackled as he recounted one of the many times baby Yukio cried because of a scraped knee or because a kid made fun of his moles.

“Dad…” Yukio groaned and hid his face in his hands before he felt you gently grip his wrists and move his hands away.

“I think your moles are adorable Yuki.” You leaned forward and placed a kiss on the moles that were just underneath his eye, your nose bumping the rim of his glasses in the process.

“I know baby, that’s why I love you.” He blushed even harder, heat basically radiating from his cheeks as he leaned forward to give you a proper kiss.

𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 (open): @soul-of-rwby @randomesk-yuku @angeltsukkis

[scribbling-stiks]

AAR - XXXVIII - Torturous Research

It can get intense and graphic, so read with caution after the "BOOM".

Also, there is a bit of a time skip. Only a day or so.

Russia wakes up slowly to a sliver of sunlight shining on his face. He had fun with the kids for the past few days.

But today, he and America had to leave to start their mission. 

Russia sighs.

At least they had some of their own fun before they lost their private room.

America shifts next to him before pulling him down into a kiss. Russia sloppily kisses back and runs his hands down America's back, tracing his spine down to his lower back and thighs. Russia enjoys messaging America's behind and America hums, feeling up Russia's chest before pulling away.

"You wore me out last night," America mumbles, staring up with half-open eyes.

Russia smirks. He admires the marks he'd left on America's collar bone. He pulls America back in for another kiss, and America returns the passion.

"It was fun," Russia teases

"A'course. You're good~," America purrs.

Russia smiles back and closes his eyes. America takes a deep breath before sinking against Russia, slotting his legs in between Russia's. America lays that way for a second before pulling away suddenly, sitting up quickly on the bed.

"S***!" America exclaims, the blankets pooling around his waist, "we need to get going!"

Russia nods and sits up. America grabs Russia's hand and pulls him up.

"Come on!!" America exclaims.

America pulls him into the connected bathroom to the room and they quickly clean up before America drags Russia downstairs to where Texas is waiting for them.

"Who is coming with us?" America asks.

"Dixie's in his truck with Netti right now. Then once we get in, we'll be on our way," Texas replies, "it'll be a while before we get there, so we'll have to figure out a game plan."

Russia nods.

"All y'all's stuff is already in the back of the truck. You'll have to thank Ginny and Pig-Pen for getting your bags packed and all that. Now come on, let's get going," Texas says, waving them forward.

America hops into the passenger seat and Russia sits in the back with Texas and Connecticut. Connecticut gives a welcoming smile which Russia returns.

"Hey, Dix. Didn't know you would decide to come along," America says, pulling on the seatbelt.

"Georgia can handle the house," Dixie says, gripping the steering wheel, "and I ain't gonna be standing back no more. Can't have y'all getting hurt and not being able to do anything about it. Now, where are we headed?"

"The closest one from here is a good few hours North," America says, summoning the glowing map he had drawn in the warehouse, "So just start going north and we'll be good. I'll figure out better directions with an actual map."

DIxie nods and pulls away from the house. After just a few moments of driving, the entire building is hidden from view. Russia smiles before turning back to see America excitedly talking Dixie's ear off and Dixie gently shaking his head with a bemused smile.

"Okay," Connecticut says, crossing their arms, "we need a game plan before we start storming bases. Otherwise, it's just gonna end badly."

"Damn right," Texas agrees, turning to face Russia.

"What?"

"You are the only country who might actually be able to plan something," Connecticut says, "Dad has never been a 'planner' and Dixie doesn't get any father than 'shoot now, questions later'. We were hoping you could help."

Russia goes quiet and stares out at the passing scenery.

"We should go to search for missing countries. We have basic maps, so we know where to start," Russia says.

"And how much damage are we causing?" Texas asks.

Russia shrugs.

"Do not get caught," Russia warns.

"Yes!" Texas celebrates, fist-bumping the air.

"Who are we looking for?" Connecticut asks curiously.

"Ukraine. There are others we will look for, but I want to find my brother," Russia replies.

"Sounds good to me," Connecticut says.

Russia looks back and spaces out.

"We're close."

"Hey, what's with the black car?"

"DAD!"

BOOM

...

Russia sits up a little and groans. He rubs his head, trying to ignore the pulsing headache, and he looks around only to see that he is completely surrounded by a thick glass reinforced with metal bars with small windows 3 meters above the ground with some deceiving slots in between some of the bars for sound to carry. There is a metal exam table bolted to the ground in the middle of the room, and it looks like it has spots of rust on the restraints. It smells like blood.

Russia looks around more and sees that each of them were in large, and separate cages. He looks a little closer and sees a brutalized Dixie curled up on the ground and covered in blood and bruises. Connecticut looks like they're about to cry and Texas looks beyond angry, but also scared.

"Who's next?" a voice asks.

Russia whips around to stare at a scientist that walks into the hallway in between Russia's cage and America's.

"NO!" America screeches, "DON'T TOUCH THEM! PLEASE!"

Russia looks up and sees America's arms hanging from chains, his wrists bound to the ceiling, and his ankles shackled. Blue magic audibly snaps around America's eye, but America shrieks in pain and his muscles seize. America howls before going limp, and blue-ish black smoke drifts up from the shackles. America's breaths come in ragged gasps.

The horror builds in Russia's chest a lump forms in his throat.

"Me. I'll go," Dixie says, sitting up, his face bloody and one of his eyes swollen shut.

"Oh, no. Not you. You've been beaten. You don't need this," the scientist says with a sickly sweet tone, looking back down at his clipboard.

The scientist looks up at Texas, "What about you?"

Texas glances at Connecticut with a conflicted gaze. The reality of the situation hits Russia like a truck and he leaps to his feet before he gives Texas the chance to answer.

"NO! No. Take me," Russia says, throwing his hand in the air.

The scientist hums for a moment before a smirk appears on his face that disappears quickly. Russia steels his face over and the scientist walks off.

"What's going on?" Russia asks Texas, who looks away.

"We're at one of the bases. They ambushed us," Dixie chokes, "They caught us by surprise and restricted Amy's magic. Amy already tried to escape, so they have him restrained, and Connecticut's magic is blocked here."

Russia examines the area and sees they aren't the only ones here, but that most of the other inhabitants looked almost catatonic in their own cells. Russia flinches when he hears the door squeak open. His eyes go wide and sprint for the exit.

But before Russia can make it out the door, he's struck in the stomach by something that sends bolts of electricity through his veins. He flys back and his legs shake violently. The scientist tsks and writes something down on the clipboard. Russia tries to push himself back to his feet, adrenalin rushing through his system and his heart skips a few beats as he tries to stumble around the scientist.

The scientist jabs him in the stomach again with what looks like a cattle prod and Russia collapses into a heap on the floor.

"You will learn to stay down," the scientist sneers.

Russia ignores the words and tries again to scramble to his feet, only for his legs to go limp against his will. Panic ravages his mind and he tries to crawl his way forward. Then several people walk in dressed as guards. They pick Russia up from the floor and strap him down to the table. Russia thrashes against them, but his arms are hard to control and his legs had gone numb.

"I will take another one to experiment on," the scientist suggests with a smirk.

Russia's frantic thrashing calms and he forces himself to lay back.

'Better me than any of them.'

"Good country," the scientist coos, stroking Russia's cheek.

Disgust fills Russia and he swallows back the nausea that follows.

"Where am I?" Russia spits, and the scientist chuckles.

"You're with me!" The scientist cackles.

"Who are you?" Russia asks, biting back his growing anger.

"I am the main researcher for our cause, of course! Now, lay back and keep quiet~"

Russia shuts his mouth and tries his best to look around until the scientist grabs a strap and yanks it. Russia's head flies back and hits the table with a CLANG.

"Now, let's explore the healing you countries have. Oh! I have been so excited to get my hands on another one of you!"

Something rolls into the room that is loud with clanging and metallic sounds. He can hear muffled shouting.

"What are you doing?!" Texas shouts, his tone horrified.

The scientist shoves a gag into Russia's mouth and Russia swallows back the vomit creeping up his throat.

The cloth tastes like old blood and vomit.

Russia stares with wide eyes and tries to figure out what was about to happen, but the metal things that he hears clambering around remain out of his view. Then something pierces the back of his hand. His back arches in agony and he screams. The smell of burning flesh permeates the air.

It feels like his hand is being thrust into a flame, and he feels nails being buried into the back of his hand. His thrashing had loosened the restraints enough to turn his head and he sees the scientist with a sadistic grin poking a red hot nail into Russia's hand and fingers. The scientist puts the nail aside and begins writing while closely examining the wounds.

"Interesting..."

The scientist prods at the throbbing wounds with gloved hands and pushes the flesh apart as it tries to stitch itself back together. Muffled screams fill Russia's room and Russia's face streaks with tears. His hand burns horribly and throbs with every heartbeat.

"Flex your fingers," the doctor demands.

Russia tries, but stars dance in his eyes.

"Do it!" the doctor demands and a piercing pain burns through Russia's hip.

Russia wails and his vision goes white. He clenches his hand and the burning recedes, and the hole throbs as it is exposed to the air. He wheezes and tries to blink away his tears.

"Russia!" Russia hears America cry out.

Russia's head whips around. To his left was America, who screams and cries hysterically. To his right is the doctor. In front of him is the frozen faces of the states staring up at him horrified.

'I can't let this happen to them.'

He bites the cloth in his mouth to keep from crying out while the doctor puts the nail back on the table.

"Bring it in," the doctor calls.

Someone walks in and he hears America shrieks. Russia spins around to stare at one of the guards walking in with a large, steaming pot. Texas begins shouting obscenities and Connecticut begins trying to bargain with the guards.

"Stop," the doctor says before leaning over Russia's face, his eyes dead except for an evil, sadistic gleam.

"Well, you have two choices. One, you're drenched in boiling water."

Russia's heart drops.

"Or we could make one of the others take your place."

Russia begins hyperventilating at the thought of the pain.

"So, what'll it be?"

"Russ!" Texas shouts desperately, "I can take it! I'll take it! Please!"

'No. I will not let you get hurt if I don't have to.'

Russia stares the doctor in the eye.

"Option one?" the doctor asks, and Russia nods, determined.

The doctor giggles.

"Alright!" the doctor cheers, a horrible smile on his face.

Russia is blinded by searing pain as the scalding water begins burning away the skin on his chest and stomach. He screeches and thrashes as the burning tunnels into his skin. The doctor begins scratching at him and Russia throws his head back against the table, not seeing anything but stars.

Russia can faintly hear America screeching incoherently. He turns his gaze to America, who looks inconsolable, sobbing and thrashing against the restraints.

'Better me than them. Than him.'

Russia's surroundings begin to fade away as the doctor begins taking samples and taking notes. Russia feels his chest and stomach skin go completely numb and the doctor continues to prod at the injuries. He stares blankly, his mind spinning with pain.

'Want to find him.'

Russia stares up at America, who cries and screams into the empty air, the cuffs around his wrists smoking.

'He's sad.'

'I don't want him to be sad.'

"Meri?" Russia tries, but the cloth muffles it to the point that it doesn't make any sense.

America looks up at him and more tears gather in his eyes.

'Oh no.'

'Am I making him sad?'

"I'm sorry," Russia tries to say.

America's head whips up and stares forward with tears before America begins to throw himself around the room against the chains, screaming in rage. Russia's eyelids grow heavy but he forces them back open, trying to watch through his double vision.

The chains snap and Russia is blinded by a bright blue light and he sees America slams against the walls. The doctor didn't seem concerned at first until the glass shatters and Russia hears a horrible scream. A scream of anger, pain, and grief.

America summons his scythe and slices the cages open, breaking Dixie, Texas, and Connecticut out of their restraints before rushing into Russia's room. The guards try to take him down, only to be sliced in half.

Their pieces scatter along the floor and they ooze blood across the floor.

Connecticut summons throwing knives and pins the doctor to the wall by his hands. They laugh sadistically.

America leans over Russia and begins pumping magic into Russia. A thick sheet of magic surrounds his injuries and Russia stares up, watching America's magic begin to flicker in his eye. America's eyes begin to fall, but he scowls and continues to shove as much magic as he could manage into his efforts. Russia feels his pain begin to fade and the waxy skin on his chest began to rebuild itself.

Connecticut cuts Russia's restraints and removes the gag. Russia turns over and vomits before falling back onto the table. America begins shaking.

The cuffs are vibrating and smoking horribly.

"Are you okay?" Russia mumbles.

America's breathing is labored and he trembles, his eyelids fall unevenly. The magic flickers, but the sheets of healing magic remain consistent.

"Dad, you have to stop!" Connecticut demands.

"No! I let this happen!" America wails.

"You're killing yourself!" Dixie yells, trying to pull him away, "STOP!"

America refuses and continues forcing magic into Russia, but the magic that had been in his working eye fades away.

"*America?*" Russia mumbles.

America's magic begins to spark wildly and America sways. He leans against the table before crumbling. Russia tries to sit up, but screams. The hole in his hip throbs and his skin burns. He falls back and breaths heavily.

"We have to go!" Connecticut says.

"No," Russia interrupts, "we have to find anyone else who is here."

"But-"

"No!" Russia screams, biting back his cry of pain, "this can not be for nothing!"

Texas and Dixie glance at each other and nod.

"Go," Dixie says with a dark look, "and take care of them. They deserve it. And grab the guns."

The states smirk and run off, and he hears screaming and gunfire under their running footsteps. Dixie stands over them, trying to prop America up in a more comfortable position.

Russia lies back, trying not to aggravate his injuries any further, feeling completely helpless.

~

Next

Previous

Table of Contents

[modestlyabsurd]

Survival Pt. 4 (Loki x Reader)

"We've got approximately five minutes worth of a head start, that's enough to sort most everything out. ... Alright, we can afford to leave the blanket behind, although it would be helpful to have around ... hm. Maybe we could roll it up and tie it to the top of your backpack like a sleeping bag. Then it could also be a cushion if you were to fall backwards. Yes, that's what we'll do. Alright, give me your ... are you listening to me?"

The skin beside your thumbnail turns white and flaky, and your index finger cramps up in a hooked position. It draws your attention - the cuticle had been picked raw. Only at the sight and subsequent stinging of blood flow did you stop, and simultaneously hear Loki's voice. He was standing above you, clearly annoyed.

"You're doing it again."

"Doing what?" you ask without looking up.

"Getting stuck in your mind. Stop it." He crouches to your criss cross applesauce post in the house's living room floor. Your gaze was glued to the loose board from the other night. Or was it last night? It doesn't make a difference now. From this point forward this place is just a memory. Like all the rest.

"We have to go," Loki insists. His tone surfaces a nasty resentfulness in you, and while you were partially aware that he was undeserving of it, that didn't override it. He grabs the hand that you're absently picking again and you jump, startled by the harsh touch. "What have you done? You're bleeding!"

"It's fine!" The nearing sound of inhuman croaks and moans drives your heart rate up. "It's not a big deal!"

"It is a big deal," Loki counters. "But we don't have time to discuss that right now." He snatches you to your feet by the same hand, plants his hands on your shoulders and stands directly in front of you. "We have to go."

"I heard you the first time."

His eyes darken. "I've said it thrice now."

You squirm, wishing he would understand. Wishing there was time to understand.

"Get out of your head," Loki demands, shaking your shoulders. You want to punch him, but he'd just counter it. What are you gonna do, argue for half an hour? Wait for the infected to get there and ask them why all of this is happening? You're not stupid.

You nod and feel your lip quiver, seething at your body's betrayal. Being made to feel like a child is enough, but then to look like one too. Why is everything so fleeting?

Why is it that even at just the thought of what humanity has come to, at the thought of the infected monsters coming to ruin everything you're fighting for, at the thought that those monsters were once people but are now closer to brainless rabid animals, why when faced with the inhuman reality do the most human feelings emerge? At the end of the day, you are the child that just wants to go home. But it's impossible. There is no home.

Loki hard set jaw softens. "Listen to me," he breathes, and places a cold hand on your bare neck. His big, round eyes are almost blue with worry. "Although it may not look like it, we're one step closer. We're going to be fine, I swear to you." With a gentle pull, Loki brought you to into him and rested your foreheads together.

It's moments like this that you wonder if he's been lying this whole time about not being able to read minds and see the future and such. In his words was conviction. It's a quality Loki rarely exhibits with his usual "any way the wind blows" perspective. It reminds you that at the end of the day you share a common goal. You breathe deeply, grounded by the weight of Loki's head against yours. The intimate gesture made you want to cry; it was a reminder for you to trust him.

You wonder how he always knows what to do, or what to say to give you the appropriate kick in the ass.

"We better go," you croak.

He pats your shoulder. "You know what to do."

The old routine kicks in. First and foremost: make sure your pistol and knife are on you. Save the rest of the weapons for last. Pack all the food. Sort what supplies you need and don't need. (Which, in this case, everything is a need.) Pack the supplies as neatly as possible. Distribute the weight. Put on dry socks. Boots. Dry gloves. Then you place your long rifle in your backpack holster that you'd crafted from a belt, and Loki does the same with his crossbow. Do a quick sweep of the area with your eyes for anything you may have missed.  The two of you do this separately.

The place is wiped clean, save for those stocked bookshelves. If only you could take the entire beautiful collection with you. In two steps you cross the living room, removing your backpack. Quickly you scoop up a few books with the most enticing covers at a glance. A voice nagged your mind that the weight of the books would pose a challenge and maybe outweigh the idea altogether, but in your heart you felt otherwise. The paper could be used for a fire at the least. Of course, if possible, you wouldn't be burning any of them.

"They're coming," Loki says out of breath. "Hurry, we don't have time!"

"I got it," you call back, even though you're merely feet apart. You can feel the herd's stamping run through the floor boards, hear their widespread wails and screeching.

"Now!" Loki yells, opening the front door, squinting as he watched the oncoming infected. White light blinds you and cold wind bites your face. You wished you'd thought of putting on a bandana, but there wasn't time. You run out of the cabin, leaving it behind.

Everything is white. Your feet weigh a hundred pounds each as they carry you through inches - hell, more like feet of unforgiving snow. Freshly falling snowflakes dampen your clothes; the icy air draws hot tears from your eyes. Or at least that's the reason your brain convinced itself for crying. You ran towards the snowy hills, toward the frosted trees, toward nothing. You just ran. They were right on your heels. The ravenous sound of the herd was amplified in the wide open outside.

Your momentum got too fast - a leg jutted out too far for a running step and you almost lost it. The other leg quickly compensated, and you bent at the knees and kept running - but the thought of almost falling and being left behind makes you come to a screeching halt. Cheeks burning from the cold, eyes struggling to stay open.

Where'd he go?

"Loki!" you call his name into the air. The whirling wind whispers an empty reply.

Looking around, your aching, shrunken stomach twists into knots. You're blind. Nothing but white everywhere, and no Loki. Standing still allows the grueling weight of snow melt to set into your clothes. Desperately you scan the area, and turn to find a patch of tall evergreen trees nearby. At the moment you saw them, the falling of snow dust from low lying branches reels you in. Too high to be a deer. Too stealthy to be infected. Below to your right was the ever-starving herd, now somewhat dumbfounded at the bottom of the hill. The mere fact that they're within eyesight and earshot makes you decide not to yell out again.

If that isn't Loki in the trees, you're in trouble. But he's nowhere. What choice do you have?

Your fingers grip tightly around the handle of your pistol, feeling like icicles underneath thin gloves. You make way to the trees, mindful of the oblivious but keen infected, scanning your surroundings. No footprints. The branches remain still. When the gun's barrel is close enough to touch them you quickly act, snatching a handful of branches away. A sweep reveals the hollow in the thicket to be empty, free of animal droppings or tracks.

Maybe it was just wind blowing the tree. Maybe it was a flying pig. Regardless, Loki had to be hiding somewhere.

The area had grown quiet, as if the herd had begun blindly searching for their prey. They were likely staggering around the cabin, using their highly developed echolocation to try to spot you. Luckily, their intelligence stopped there. The rest was eat, eat, eat. You considered whistling out for Loki, but refrained from it in fear of rousing the herd up again.

Great. Nothing in sight, nowhere to go, and no one to complain about it to. Where the hell is he? And why is he still hiding? you pondered, circling the perimeter of the evergreens. No movement, no sound except for the thunderous crunching of snow beneath your boots.

And then the sound of snow pluming around your head. Snow in your eyes, ears, on your neck. Chilling your spine, cushioning your elbows. Your mind whirring as you open your eyes and squint them right back shut at the the bright, vast blue sky. Then a tall, thin shadow obscures the light, and your eyes shoot open.

Loki was standing above your body, laughing.

You raise your gun to give him a glimpse of the afterlife. Or whatever Asgardians face after they're scared to death. Only, your gun is gone.

"Looking for this?" he chirps and dangles your pistol above you like a piece of meat, interrupting your panicked shuffling to find it.

Disoriented, lopsided and homicidal, you spring to your feet haphazardly and prepare to unleash a volcano of profanity, but you can't. He's smirking. His cheeks are as round and rosy as a kid on Christmas morning - he even lends a hand to help you regain balance.

Every bit of air leaves your lungs in a scoff of disbelief. "Wha - why'd you do that?" you ask, then interject more forcefully, "What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

"Keep your voice down," says Loki calmly, leaning in and commanding you with a firm hand on your shoulder. You sling it off, furious.

"Fuck you, I thought you were gone! I thought someone had taken you!"

"Yes, and if I had, you would've been taken as well."

"You ... you pushed me to the fucking ground!"

"Actually, I pulled you to the ground. From behind. It was a bit of a test of my ingenuity in the comforter blanket's effectiveness of protecting your head in a fall. And I must say, I believe it worked quite well. Though I bet those books in your backpack proved to work against you, didn't they?"

Your mouth hangs open as if to speak, but you're so possessed by anger that no rational speech comes out. Hyperventilating, head shaking in denial, hands dying to punch him where it counts. How could he scare you like that?!

"Hey," says Loki, taking one of your trembling hands. "Don't take it so badly. If I were you, I'd be eternally grateful that it was me who caught you instead of someone else. Because it all comes full circle, dear. You mustn't get so lost in your own mind. You have to be one with yourself, and be able to separate them when needed."

He wets his chapped red lips and winks, crows feet crinkling around his big, round eyes. He was sincere, despite the condescending untertone in his voice. As much as it lit you up with rage, Loki had bested you. He'd not only proven a valid point of his own concern regarding the deficit in your caution, but he'd also brought something to your attention that you hadn't fully considered; while you're always subconsciously aware of your needing him to survive, you weren't so aware of what you would do without him. Even knowing the cold fact that either of you could be killed at any time. That never completely processed before.

But frankly, it was never something you wanted to give a nanosecond of a thought, and you damn sure don't want to now.

You extend the opposite hand to the one Loki's holding. "I'll take my gun back now."

Loki is taken aback, his eyebrows raising in surprise as though he'd expected a more playful response - or even just something more elaborate. Which, normally, maybe you would've been. But clearly things are changing everywhere, and it seems you're gonna have to change, too.

A strange, conflicted smile washes over Loki's face, then he quickly straightened it out into a more distant look. Without breaking away from your glare, he plops the pistol into your hand with enough force to spring your hand downward.

"Onward, then."

You tuck the gun in the back of your jeans. "Lead the way."

~

welcome to the apocalypse, dudes

tag list: @sydneyss-worlddd @afinedilemma @fire-in-her-veinz @belladonnabarnes @drakesfiance @internetgremlin @dragon-chica @triggeredpossum @tarynkauai @sadwaywardkid

SURVIVAL TAGS: @ania-swissweet @quenilla

[hexlikesramennoodles]

32 please :)

32. A kiss so passionate, so perfect - that after they part, neither person can open their eyes for a few moments afterwards.

Author’s note: this one got away from me! Writing unnecessarily long fic is my brand, I guess.

“What the hell are you doing?” Steve’s voice demanded.

The bathroom door swung shut behind him with a metallic scream of hinges. In the corner of the mirror, Billy caught sight of him: stalking forwards with his hands bunched at his sides, his hair a ludicrous, flopping bouffant. He was wearing a new sweater: a deep navy blue, luxurious and soft-looking. The Ralph Lauren logo was sewn onto his breast, its stick man arm raised. His mom had bought it for him, Billy guessed. Steve rarely chose any of his clothes himself, and it showed—he always looked awkward, conscious of his body and how you perceived it.

“What’s it look like I’m doing?” Billy zipped his fly, then stepped away from the urinal. He let the faucet run, taking his time on purpose. If Steve was going to come in here and harass him while he answered a call of nature, he could wait until Billy had washed his hands.

“Uh-uh,” Steve said. “Don’t do that. I hate it when you do that.”

“Harrington, I’ve got a date waiting for me, so if you’re gonna—”

“Oh, a date, huh?” Steve’s eyebrows arched high. “A date with Stella, of all people? Since when was she your type?”

“Since yesterday,” answered Billy. “Time is money, Harrington. I’m gonna miss my movie.” He smiled nastily. “Who knows, maybe we’ll get to second base before the credits roll.”

He didn’t doubt it. Stella Delgado was one of those girls whose clinging insecurity was as loud and obvious as the cheap perfume she wore. She was every small town cliché wrapped into one: an alcoholic father who beat her bloody on the regular. An absent mother, dead or eloped with another abusive deadbeat. Three runty, snotnosed siblings under the age of ten of whom she was the unwilling primary caregiver. She looked at Billy the same way Karen Wheeler looked at him: with moist, lip-wobbling hope. Billy imagined that she’d already written the names of their children in her lockable diary, using neat, curlicued handwriting; two of them, a boy and a girl with his hair and her eyes.

Steve stared at him, red-faced and irate. A loose thread dangled from the sleeve of his sweater. Billy was seized by a strong impulse to pull at it. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Don’t,” Steve was suddenly snarling. He took a step towards Billy, long and darting, then seemed to stop himself. “I hate it when you act like there’s nothing wrong. Like you don’t know exactly what you’re fucking doing. It drives me crazy.”

Good, Billy thought. That loose thread was starting to piss him off; everything about Steve was starting to piss him off.

“This is about Nancy, isn’t it?” Steve went on. “Who told you we were going to the movies? Fucking Carol? I knew it.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Billy said venomously. “You think you’re that important, Harrington? Huh? You think I pine for you?”

“Stella’s really nice.” Steve’s voice was deliberately calm, rigid. “You’re gonna break her heart. Does she know you’re g—”

Billy lunged at him. Steve must have been expecting it; he rapidly backpedaled, raising his arms as he did so. “What was that?” Billy said loudly, putting a hand to his ear. “You wanna repeat that for me?”

He hated that he knew which of Steve’s clothes his mom had picked out for him, and which ones Steve had chosen for himself. He hated how looking at Steve made him feel: tight and hot and uncomfortable, as if he was covered in a layer of clay that had set wrong and was starting to buckle at the edges. Brittle, too close to snapping. Most of all, he hated Stella Delgado, and how vulnerable she was. How trusting.

She should know better by now.

“Look, it’s whatever, alright?” Steve said. “Just stay away from Nance. I mean that.”

His sneaker squeaked on tile; in the bathroom mirror, Billy saw him turn to leave. “You think she loves you?” he called.

He shouldn’t have said it, should’ve known when to leave well enough alone, but that required more foresight than he was capable of mustering. It was too gratifying to watch the words land, the impact they had on Steve’s posture: a visible rippling down his spine, as if he’d passed close to an electric current. He was so easy to read. There was a hole in Billy’s chest, a hole with ragged, eroded edges that went all the way through him. The sickly rush of gratification filled it right back up, made him believe—for one brief, terrible moment—that he wasn’t so hollow inside.

“Nance fucked Jonathan Byers,” he said. The faucet was still running, the sound seeming to come from right between his temples. It was thunderous, relentless; the sound caught him, swept him up, and he didn’t know how to make himself stop and so all he could do was keep going, descending towards his inevitable doom. Billy’s mother had been an alcoholic, too; self-destruction was in his blood.

“We’re past that,” Steve said quietly.

Billy licked his lips. “No. I mean—I mean she fucked him again. On Memorial Day. Ask Carol if you don’t believe me. She doesn’t love you. She’s just waiting for something better to come along.” He licked his lips again, then showed Steve his teeth. It felt more like a grimace than a smile. “Looks like she found it—”

But Steve was shaking his head. “Jonathan’s my friend, Billy. Why would he—Christ, do you even hear yourself sometimes?”

“She doesn’t love you,” Billy repeated. “Ask Carol. Ask anybody. Half the town knows by now. You’re the only one who’s not with the program, pretty boy.”

He was paraphrasing what Carol had told him, if only to spare Harrington’s ego. In reality, Carol had drunkenly mimed the story using a popsicle stick and the middle of a jelly doughnut—splat!—laughing while she did it. Her grin had been wide and stupid, her laughter snorting and pig-like. Billy had wanted to throttle her.

“What are you saying?” Steve sounded tired, not outraged. Billy hated that, too. Wheeler made Steve so fucking weak. Billy had been expecting a shove, maybe even a punch. He deserved as much. But no—Steve was good for Nancy, perfect princess Nancy. “It’s Nancy, it always comes back to Nancy. Are you trying to tell me that I’d be better off with you?”

Billy opened his mouth. He had the words, all the bad nasty evil words that he knew would hurt if he decided to unleash them. You think I’m some kind of fucking queer? When Stella had bounded up to him in front of the concessions stand, her mud-colored hair pushed behind her ears and her unremarkable mouth stretched into an even more unremarkable smile, she hadn’t even noticed the lipgloss Billy was wearing. Maybe she’d told herself it was a trick of the fluorescents, that she was seeing things, silly girl. People always see what they wanna see.

“Billy,” Steve said. His voice was much closer. “Do you love me?”

His reflection had become a smudge on the glass of the mirror. It hurt to look at him. It made Billy’s eyes prickle. His hands were frozen around the edge of the sink, the water streaming from the faucet ceaselessly. Its spray wet his face and his eyelashes, but he could hardly feel it.

“Yeah, right,” Steve muttered. “Like you’d even know what that is. People are just disposable to you. Just—”

When his sneaker squeaked again, it was accompanied by the sound of the door reopening. Billy looked up. Steve’s sweater was shrinking, vanishing into the hallway outside, its loose thread fluttering.

They had entered an arrangement based on a mutual understanding of three things. One, that Billy had a cock. He wasn’t like Nancy, or any other girl Steve had been with before her. Two, that he wasn’t soft, delicate, or malleable. He would never fit into whatever Steve’s ideal for a life partner was. He didn’t want to. Three, that Steve didn’t want him, either. Steve liked his body and his face, but he was always telling Billy about the things he didn’t like. Always telling Billy he was too much, too intense.

Fine. Crystal fucking clear. Or so Billy had thought.

“I’m goin’ away for the summer.” Steve was holding the door open with his foot. He always had to have the last word. “With my parents. To Spain, then Portugal. Might visit the grandparents while we’re there. Do some … soul searching. So.”

Billy felt himself blink. “So?”

Steve’s Adam’s apple was a slow roll. He shrugged, and pushed the door wider. He was leaving. Billy watched him go, his hands gripping the sink uselessly. Faucet still splashing, but the sound wasn’t inside his head anymore. It was far off, unimportant. Steve was leaving, and Billy wasn’t doing anything to stop him.

“I’ll miss you,” he blurted.

Steve sighed.

The door slammed shut. Two, three steps: Steve was moving faster than Billy had ever seen him. He yanked Billy by the collar, kissing him with such force it jarred his neck. Billy’s hipbone was crushed against the sharp edge of the sink, but the pain was the sweetest he’d ever felt. Steve kissed him hard enough to make his jaw ache, then soothed the ache with a touch of his fingertips. He kissed the lipgloss from Billy’s mouth and moaned at the taste. He kissed angrily and with teeth, like he had a bone to pick, an itch to scratch. That was nothing new.

“I miss you all the time,” Billy said.

“Shut up,” Steve whispered. “Don’t talk. Everything you ever say—you never mean it—”

“I do. I do. I’m sorry.”

Steve’s fingers were still touching his face. Billy didn’t open his eyes. He could feel Steve there, a closeness that bordered on claustrophobia. His spine was pressed up against the sink, running water soaking the back of his shirt. The stillness, the intimacy of being this close to someone without doing anything about it, was unbearable. Exhilarating.

“God.” Steve exhaled harshly through his teeth; his breath surged over Billy’s face. When Billy willed his eyes open, Steve was standing in front of him, looking like a middle schooler faced with a complicated math problem. His eyes were scrunched shut, and his teeth worried at his lower lip. Billy could see where some of the glitter from the gloss had smeared on him, pink and little-girl pretty. Before he realized what he was doing, he reached across and wiped it off with his thumb. 

Steve’s eyes snapped open. He looked at Billy almost wonderingly. “You wanna get out of here?”

What about Nancy? Billy wanted to say. I’m gonna miss my movie, he wanted to say, like a smartass. He wanted to kick and scream and give Steve hell, send him flying straight back into Wheeler’s bony arms. Instead he lowered his head, meek, and let Steve entwine a finger around his pinkie. Stella was better off without him.

They left the bathroom together. Walking past the concession stand and the claw cranes, the squashy chairs where you could sit and watch the trailers for every movie that was coming out for the summer. Steve’s finger stayed curled around his pinkie, because he couldn’t outright take Billy’s hand. Not while they were in public.

By the time they reached the escalators, they were running.

[ohtheseboysilove]

Sexy panties to dirty nappies I/? [ Ben Hardy x F!Reader ]

Words : 3,100 K +

Warnings : language, surprise pregnancy

Summary : Reader is eight months pregnant. The only problem ? She just find out. Yep, pregancy denial. Now they only got a month to be ready for the baby. Ready...steady...go !

Note : I get this little idea popping in my head and I couldn’t take it off so, here is it. It’s not an angst fic this time, rather cute, fluff and fun. Ben and Reader gonna be freaking out about an upcoming baby that wasn’t planned at all. Enjoy and tell me what you think lovies !! (If you don’t know what a pregnancy denial is, basically you’re pregant but don’t know that, some women don’t notice until they are literally giving birth !! This is some scary shits, uurk) xx

Masterlist & Requests

@/ none of these gifs are mine xx

“Shit Ben, you’re such a dork” You snorted ridiculously as your boyfriend tried on your brand new pink panties, thigh and way too short on him. “Gimme that I need to get dress” You made grabby hands toward his muscular bottom on practically full display.

“Come and get it” He wiggled his eyebrows funnily, a cheeky grin covering his face.

“Ben...” You warned as you stood up, walking to this idiot, your idiot from the last three years with the firm attention to have back your knickers. “I’m already late Benny, come on” You pouted as he shook cockily his head, grabbing your waist and connecting your mouths together.

You sighed in the kiss, you could never be bored of the softest and sweet taste of his lips. His warm hands squeezed gently your covered butt but you pulled away, knowing where he was going with this not-at-all action.

“I wasn’t done with you yet” He grimaced as you tried to escape his strong arms, his lips travelling on your neck and hips rocking slightly against you, you could feel his bugle poking through your panties. “Stay with me today, I just come back from months away, need you” He whispered with a needy voice to your ear.

“Love, you know I would rather stay with you but I have this fucking important presentation today, I can’t miss work” You whined, his soft caresses making you weak on your knees. He definitively didn't make it easier for you.

Ben groaned against you but let you go eventually, taking off the panties and putting in it your hands, now fully naked. You bit your lips at this incredible sight, Ben was truly pleasant to look at. He caught your flushed cheeks and winked at you before going lazily back in bed. The blond lay down, sliding an arm under his head, showing a muscular biceps and his hard shaft was mocking you, god, you really wanted to stay here.

“Aren’t you suppose to get dress, doll ?” He teased you with a big smile, lazily scrolling on his phone as you stood there, thinking if you really needed this job after all. You sighed and showed him your middle finger before bending to slid your underwear on. A sharp pain hit you roughly in the back and you whined loudly, hand flying to the aching part of your body, jaw clenched harshly. “Your back is still hurting baby ?”

He crawled to you and gently cupped your face, his eyes full of concern.

“I’m fine Benny” You murmured through your teeth and slowly straightened your spine, a low whimper escaping your throat. “It’s nothing”

“You should really go to the doctor (Y/N), I’m serious, it’s been weeks” Ben rubbed softly your back as you slid – not without difficulties – your work pants. “I can take you when I pick you up tonight”

You walked painfully to your closet and picked a white blouse, cursing quietly at every of your movements.

“We not gonna miss our tuesday night for a sore back” You smiled through your pain and Ben rolled his eyes but grinned anyway. “I’m gonna kick your ass tonight love, be ready”

You both chuckled and the blond sighed deeply, coming to you and closing himself your buttons, his noses brushing softly with yours.

“You’re gonna lose tonight, like always baby” He smirked and pecked your pouty lips. “See you later, loser”

He closed the bathroom door as you put your shoes on, the clock ticking as you were running late.

“Don’t forget the shopping list I left on the table !” You shouted. “Love you Benny”

“Love you too !” You closed the front door and left for work. Finally.

You spent the whole drive to work thinking about your evening, tuesday night was the best when Ben was around. Basically both of you eat greasy food – burger or pizza – played video games, fucked then played again, beers and eventually some weed to go through the evening. It was a tradition, you and Ben used to do that when you were just friends – the fucking part aside – and nothing changed after you get together. You were still the same two dorks, but in love now. You really loved the life you had with Ben, you were twenty five and living your best life with someone as cool as Ben. Sometime your mom told you that you needed to grow up but honestly you were still young and wanted to have fun.

You didn’t know yet but your life was about to change brutally within few hours.

Everything was fine, Ben had send you a good luck text for your presentation and until now, you were killing it. It was only nine-something in the morning when the pain in your back came back, more violently than before. You tried to forget it and continued your job but the aching was brutal, tears were flowing down your cheeks and before someone could react you passed out.

When you woke up you were laying in a hospital bed, the annoying sound of a monitor buzzing in your ears. You blinked few times to adapt your eyes to the bright luminosity of the room and rubbed your temples, a headache muddling your brain.

“Good to see you awake miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N), I am doctor Davis” A middle age man with big and round glasses was facing you, his eyes going from the paper in is hands to the screen of the monitor.

“What I’m doing here ?” You mumbled, your throat dry and sore. You could have killed for a glass of water.

“Well, you fainted at your work, not long ago. Do you remember what happened Miss ?” You frowned, trying to clear your mind.

“I was doing my presentation then...my back...yeah my back was really painful then nothing”

The doctor cleared his throat and came closer to you, rubbing his chin slightly. “We found the reason for this pain in your back but it’s going to be...surprising for you”

“What do you mean surprising ? Am I going to die ?” You asked with a panicked voice.

The doctor chuckled softly and put a reassuring hand on your forearm, squeezed it lightly.

“(Y/N), you’re not going to die, I can assure you that.” You sighed deeply but you were still agitated, what was going on ? “Miss, your backache is nothing else than normal...because you’re pregnant”

Your eyes widened and you stared blankly at him.

“I’m pregnant ? But I’m taking the pill since like...forever, it’s–“You closed your mouth and internally freaked out, a baby ? You weren’t ready for that. “I can’t have a kid, I’m– we can’t...”

“I’m afraid, miss, that you have no other choice than to carry this baby until the due date” You frowned and for a second you were sure he was one of these doctor who were against abortion but the truth was even worth. “You did what we call a denial of pregnancy miss, you’re eight months pregnant”

Seeing a pig flying in the sky would have been less shocking than his words. And even making more sense, you know with the science’s progress, why not ? You shook your head and chuckled nervously, there were no chance you were carrying a child for eight months without noticing it.

“No, no, you...it’s impossible” You rubbed your flat stomach to prove your point. “I lost three pounds last month, I’m certainly not pregnant doc. I’m sorry but you’re probably not in the good room” You felt a bit better, yeah he was wrong, periods.

The man smiled softly and pinched his lips together, his voice was gentle like if he was talking to a kid :

“I know it must be a shocking new (Y/N), it’s the first time in my career that I personally work on a denial of pregnancy, I can’t imagined how you’re feeling right now but I promise, it’s real” Your confident smile faded at his very serious tone. “Now that you know about your condition, your body will react to it and probably in few days you will have an eight-months look and all the things which come with pregancy (Y/N). Morning sickness, swollen feet, sudden craving...”

You didn’t listen any other words he said. You eyes were glued to your bare clothed stomach, afraid that it will swollen in a minute. He showed you an ultrasound scan as a proof but your brain couldn’t simply process the information. Eight months pregnant. In less than a month you will be a mom. Hell, you already were a mom, the baby could pop up any time soon. What the fuck were you going to tell Ben ? And your parents ? Friends ? Work ? Fucking hell.

The rest of your morning was completely blurred, only doing tests and analyses, all the checking you were supposed to do during these eight months of pregnancy. And god you felt awful for this kid, you drank, you smoked and not only cigarette, you ate sushi and al these things you were not suppose to do as a pregnant woman...but could you be blamed for that ? No. But you still felt guilty. Most of your analyses came back positives and some others took few more days to have the results but apparently you and the baby were fine. Baby...still so unreal.

When they finally let you go, you found Ben in the waiting room, his face pale like he was about to pass out. But he didn’t know. The doctor swore that they didn’t say anything as it was a complicated situation, so it was your job now to tell him he is gonna be a father well sooner than expected. Sooner as less than a month.

“Baby, jesus christ, are you all right ? These fucking assholes didn’t tell me anything ! I was worrying sick !” He shoved you in his arms, his hands examining every inches of your face to make sure you were alright.”Your boss called me, telling me you passed out during your presentation, what happened ?”

He barely let you anytime to answer, his lips already kissing yours. Ben always been a touchy guy, he loved contact, holding hands, arms around your shoulders, fingers drumming on your thigh when he drive...And when he was worried, he won’t let go of you. Everytime you were sick, he was literally glued to your side, cooing at you like a mother hen or like this time you broke your ankle, he was ready to carry you all around the flat if you would let him. You loved this side of Ben so much but today you were so afraid to scaring him off with this unexpected pregnancy.

“I’m alright, love” You gently caressed his cheek, his face relaxing a bit at your gesture. “But...I have something very important to tell you” He frowned his eyebrows and his worries came back even quicker than before.

“What–“

You put a finger on his mouth, cutting short to his rambling and grabbed his hand.

“Not here, let’s talk in the car” He reluctantly followed you, his eyes burning hole in your head as he stared intensely at you, like you were about to fall dead at his feet in any second.

He opened the car and both of you jumped inside. You looked at your flat stomach, he wouldn’t believe you, how could he ?

“Baby, please tell me what’s going on ? You’re scaring me” He looked at you with pleading eyes and you felt guilty to make him worry like that.

“The doctor found why my back hurt me so much”

 Smooth beginning (Y/N).

As expected Ben’s face lit up with a relieved smile. “That’s awesome baby ! You’re gonna be alright then ?”

“I’m fine, it’s just...I...I’m pregnant Ben” You dropped – only half – of the bomb and watched your very interesting blue nails polish, all chipped. You really needed a good manicure.

“Alright...” Ben shook his head, his eyes wides and almost popping out of his head, doing his best to not completely freaked out. “We...have different options, I– what do you want to do ?” He grabbed your hands and you slowly looked at him, lower lip roughly pinched between your teeth. “If...abortion is still a option but...if you want to keep the baby, I can call my agent and...ask for more free time for you and the baby until–“

“Ben the baby is coming in a month” You stated bluntly. He tilted his head and then gazed at your flat belly before chuckling.

“Yeah sure (Y/N). If all of this it’s a joke I don’t–“

“It’s not a joke Ben !” You shouted, tears gathering in your eyes. You didn’t cry easily , both of you and your boyfriend seemed rather surprise. “Fucking pregnancy hormones” The blond kept his mouth shut, waiting for a rational explanation. “The doctor said I did a...a denial of pregnancy” He scratched his chin, nodding slowly and pretending he understood. You knew him like the back of your hand and his eyes were screaming that he had no clue about all of this. “Basically, my body completely ignored the fact that I was pregnant, still get my periods like everything was normal but in fact, I had a baby inside me for the past eight months, I’m not even a mother yet but I’m already the worst possible mom”

You hid your face in your hands, you felt so guilty about this tiny human, maybe already fucked up because of your actions. Ben’s hands slowly rubbed your shoulder but he didn’t say a word. The shock and fear painting all over his features. He drove both of you, or rather the three of you back home in a thick silence. Your and his mind were blinded with oppressing thoughts, most of people had time to prepare a baby arrival or could even decided about if they wanted a kid or not but you didn’t have this chance.

Ben held your hand as you walked to your shared flat but stayed in a deafening silence.

“Here, it’s the...the picture of the baby. He also gave me an envelope with the sex of the baby inside, if we want to know before the birth” You placed the ultrasound photo in his hands and locked yourself in the bathroom, you couldn’t bear his silence much longer.

He stayed mute. You felt the fear inside you growing even bigger. What if he left you ? A baby-bomb could be a good reason to run away but it was Ben...he would never do that to you or the...your baby. He won’t. He just needed time to process the information. After a long and hot shower, you looked at yourself in the mirror, more precisely to your belly. It didn’t look bigger than before. Or maybe yes. You turned on your side and softly touched it, definitively bigger. It also could be your mind tricking your eyes. It was only few hours since you knew about your pregnancy...but the doctor did say you will have a swollen belly around four days from today, probably. It was fucking scary and your emotional support also know as Ben, was actually out of service. Awesome. You still get your emergency emotional support and this one was always working, get four paws and soft fur, answering at the sweet name of Frankie.

You quietly reached for your room and put a comfy pyjama on then spotted the little fur ball on the bed, chilling like the princess she was. You grabbed her and cuddled her in your arms, her adorable scent of dog comforting you as you made your way to the living-room. To Ben.

He was in the sofa, his eyes glued to the ultrasound you gave him.

“Benny ?” You asked with a soft tone. “Please, can you say something ?” You sat next to him, keeping few centimetres between your two bodies. Something you didn’t do since your first date and all the doubts that go with.

He put the image on the coffee table and stood up brutally.

“I...I’m going to do some shopping. I can use some fresh air” He rubbed awkwardly his neck, looking everywhere rather than to you.

Your felt your heart race speeding up at these words. That was the cue, he was leaving you.

“Ben, please don’t do that” You grabbed his forearm, eyes watering at the though of ending all alone with this baby. “Don’t leave me, I can’t do that all by myself. I need you.”

His eyes widened at your words and his features immediately soften, his warm hands rubbing your wet cheeks.

“(Y/N), my sweet silly girl, I’m not going anywhere” He chuckled softly, his hands shaking slightly against your skin. “Well, I do need to buy some food for tonight, didn’t have the time this morning. Need more beer than I thought and soft drink for you, babe” You sniffled, wiping away your eyes and nodded slowly. “Sorry for my...lack of answer to this hum big new, I’m still processing the whole thing. But we are in this...uncommon situation together alright ?” He pecked gently your mouth before grabbing his keys car and jacket.

“’kay. You promise you will come back ?” You hated your weak voice, that wasn’t you at all but right now all you needed was to be reassured.

“I will” His tone sufficed to convince you. “Any food craving or is it too early ?” Both of your gazes fell on your flat stomach, waiting like the baby will answering by himself to his dad’s question.

“Don’t know for this baby but I wouldn’t object to a veggie pizza tonight” You shrugged. You didn’t fully understand you were pregnant, it was so unreal.

“Alright, I see you later” He smiled softly and disappeared behind the main door.

You slouched down in the couch, sighing deeply.

“Jesus fucking Christ” You rubbed your face roughly, this situation was the craziest that ever happened to you. You couldn’t believe your own body hid from you that you were carrying a tiny human. For eight fucking months.

Your mom gonna laugh so hard. You and Ben, a baby ? You weren’t ready for that, in few years of course but right now ? Not when your biggest achievement of your saturday night was too finish a bottle wine all by yourself without throwing up.

You and Ben had roughly more or less four weeks to be ready for a baby. Easy peasy, right ?

[planetsxend]

“Moist”

@sweettifalockhart issued the writing challenge: moist.  I posted a snippet so I’d stay on track, and hell did I stay on track.  Probably OOC in places, but that hasn’t stopped me writing before :P Reno/Tifa below the cut, set very loosely in the tie between OG/Remake & AC

1 year, 4 months, 2 weeks, 3 days after The Plate

“- and then she threw me out the bar!  Literally threw me.  How is that even possible?”

“... It’s Tifa,” Rude says, as if that explains everything from gravity’s pull to the magic show of pigs suddenly sprouting wings and taking to the sky (although that wouldn’t be magic so much as fucking freaky who has the alien head this time?).  “Would’ve paid for a video,” his partner’s quiet addition, the bare bones of a smirk flirting with his mouth and Reno well - he can’t let that one go unchallenged.  The bastard doesn’t even startle when the elastic band pings off his shades.  Hmmph.

He grumbles some more, under his breath, and he’s well-versed in the feeling of eyes on him, knows Rude’s picked up on the fact he’s legitimately out of sorts with this recent development.  Knows that behind those shades, Rude’s staring at him, measuring the weight of each word on his tongue before lending voice to it.

“Either start talking or start writing.  This paperwork isn’t going to finish itself.”

“There’re memories in that bar,” Reno replies, the last he’ll say on the matter simply because it covers the entirety of his discomfiture.

~ ~ ~

7 months, 3 days after The Plate

It’s the first he’s properly laid eyes on her since... since The Plate and he slinks in like a cat on the scavenge, well aware there’s a dispute in his very near future the further in he goes, vividly aware he’s out of his depth.  He’s still got a sharp smart in his ribs to prove just how hard she punches on a bad day.  But here, now, on her turf?  Where every territorial instinct she has will be on red alert the second she clocks him?  Where every protective instinct will kick into high gear the second she recognises a threat?  He’s gonna wind up with his face smashed in and a couple teeth knocked loose and he’ll probably roll over and thank her for it after.

Better than the guilt gnawing him open from the inside out, right?

Sure enough, he’s not even singled out the quietest corner when she spots him, and because he keeps bouncing between where to sit and where’s the danger, he sees it.  The smile for her patrons vanishes so fast he might as well have smacked it off her, face settling into an expression carved from stone.  Empty.  Blank.  Carefully so, but she can’t do shit about her eyes.  They burn, even as her spine snaps straight and her chin lifts just so.

A challenge he doesn’t meet.  A challenge he can’t back down from, either.  His own issued when he approaches her directly, well and truly in the lion’s den.

“What do you want?”  She spits, and if words were acid he’d be stripped to the bone in seconds.  A lesser man would flinch, and a smarter man would leave, but neither man is him and so he slaps on a smirk and replies cool as Shiva’s kiss - he’d like a drink, if you please.  He sure as shit doesn’t imagine the creak of leather around her fists, but she’s a gracious host, and everyone’s welcome in Seventh Heaven, she can’t go around denying customers willy nilly without consequences.

He’s actually surprised when he survives that first drink, never mind the entire goddamn night.

7 months, 2 weeks, 5 days after The Plate

It’s almost a game between them a few weeks later, this animosity.  Every night he intrudes on her space and every night she’ll hiss at him like she’s ready to claw his face off.  Sometimes he’ll get blackout drunk and someone has the decency to phone Rude to cart his ass back home, sometimes he doesn’t and he’ll nurse one drink the entire night, every second under the same roof as her an agony.  When will she do it, he wonders.  When will she snap?  When will that practised calm give out in favour of confronting him?  Just what the fuck is it gonna take?

He’s not drunk tonight, just on the wrong side of tipsy, weaving one way on his stool then jerking centre and weaving the other.  Loose-lipped, too, if anyone thought to talk to him, but the suit keeps most folk at a respectable distance.  She comes at him when most of the regulars clear out and over the blast of the jukebox he thinks fuckin’ finally.

‘Cept she slams a glass of water down in front of him, sloshes some of it over his hand for good measure.  And while he swears and trips over his own tongue and waves his hand around and wipes it down with the stupid fuckin’ square Tseng always insists on cramming into his breast pocket, she parks her ass down opposite him, and jams both elbows down on the table.  There’s no warning creak this time, because her hands are bare of their usual gloves, and the fire in her eyes isn’t quite so bright tonight.

The hell?

“Why do you keep coming here, Reno?”  She asks, and if anything should catch him off guard maybe it should be that she remembers his name.  Instead, it’s her tone, the tired quality to it curling ‘round the words and robbing them of the caustic bite she usually keeps in reserve all for him.  Like she’s as weary to the bone as he is.  Like she’s beaten down and wrung out and barely hanging on by the tips of her fingers.

Like maybe - just maybe - she’s in the same boat as him.

You got snarlin’ little beasties crawling around in your head, too?

But he doesn’t ask that, it’s early days yet, right?  She’s more liable to smash the glass on his head and jab him in the eye with one of the resulting pointy bits, right?  So he looks at her instead, fighter-turned-bartender, damaged soul under all that easy charm, and lets his own trademark smirk fall just a little.  Just enough to clue her in on his little secret - I know the taste of regret, and it sure is bitter.

“To drink.  To forget.”

~ ~ ~

It doesn’t make things right between them, not by a long shot.  But the water’s her white flag, and his truth an apology.  It’s a step in some direction, maybe not the right one.

9 months, 1 week after The Plate

She asks him about it eventually, just like he knew she would.  She’s a blunt woman, Tifa, when it comes down to the nitty gritty details.  Her patience has its limits and beating around the bush as they are, tolerating one another as they are... something has to give somewhere.  So she asks him.  About it.  About The Plate.

Such a simple question, really.  Do you regret it?

Does he have an answer for it?  Oh sure, he has an answer alright.  Yes.  Yes he regrets it, every damn time he thinks about it his stomach curdles and his skin goes clammy.  So many questions circling his head ‘til he’s dizzy: was it necessary?  Was it worth it?  How many died?  How many people suffered - trapped under crushing weight, their last moments ones of terror and darkness and indescribable pain?  How many begged for help on their last breath?  How many stretched out broken hands in the hope someone beyond the rubble would grab on and help them free?  How many people ripped apart?  How many families struck from the census records in one fell swoop?  What were their names?  Their ages?  How many kids died that night?

“Yeah,” he says instead, voice wavering under all that strain locked up inside his skull, queasy and not from the food he’d ordered (still not poisoned, she’s out of her goddamn mind).  He doesn’t know what he looks like in that moment - can’t stand to look in mirrors much these days except to scrape the scruff off his chops in the morning - but she does.  Tifa looks at him then and sees whatever he can’t smother, standard Turk mask of indifference be damned, and a switch flips between them.  Animosity to understanding.

There should be surprise when she closes the bar early, promising discounts for the inconvenience, when she sets a bottle of hard liquor by his plate... and two glasses.  Instead he musters up the ghost of a smile and leans back - almost makes an ass of himself toppling right over, but hey, the reflexes have saved him from worse (like Strife’s sword) - daring to drag his eyes from her face to her waist and back up again.  “Come to confess to the big bad wolf, doll?”

“Eat a dick, Turk,” she snaps back and twists the cap open, sealing their fate.

~ ~ ~

“We, I, killed people, too... when we... blew up the Reactors.  Maybe not... maybe not every life lost was immediate but... the riots, the robberies, the people dying at home because their heating went out and never came back on again.  I don’t know how many deaths can be traced back to my hands.”

“That’s not the same as-”

“Does the how really matter, Reno?  People died.  By our actions.  By our choices.  That is the burden we bear.”

~ ~ ~

He comes awake the following morning to the unforgiving thump of a combat boot in the ribs, and bright sunlight stabbing a thousand daggers into his eyeballs, and a behemoth using his head as a chew toy.  It’s Strife above him, hands on the table he’s shoved aside to get to him, baby blues gone dark and thunderous and hell if that ain’t a safe wake-up call.  From his left somewhere a pitiful moan as Tifa rouses, and Murder Face turns his attention elsewhere, moves in her direction, giving Reno just enough space to try and get his legs under him.  Where are his legs again?  His - where the fuck’s his shoe?

“What did you do this time?”  Rude asks the second the call connects as he trips his way out the bar, and all Reno can manage without upsetting his entire lack of balance is a raspy laugh and cradling his head in his free hand.

“Made a mess, prob’ly.”

11 months, 1 week, 4 days after The Plate

“Are you asking me out?”  Really, she doesn’t need to look so suspicious.  What’s he gonna do, chuck her in a chopper and fly her across the continent?  Avalanche’d kill him deader than dead in two seconds flat.  Still, she’s not exactly wrong, which.  Yeah, okay, this isn’t one of his better ideas by far but.  Hm.

“No?  Figured it’d be a better bonding experience if we had a chat while stone cold sober, is all.  You like coffee?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“Tseng.”

Call him crazy, but her laugh sounds less hollow than he’s ever heard it.

~ ~ ~

Marlene nails him in the back of the hand with a fork and Denzel gets melon juice all down his shirt.  Accidental his ass.

At least Strife is upfront with his threats of bodily harm if he breaks Tifa’s heart.

1 year, 2 months, 3 weeks after The Plate

The next time they wind up under what he’s dubbed their table, alcohol has absolutely nothing to do with it...  Well.  Except for the sticky residue he can taste on her fingers.

He has enough common sense to make sure they drag their asses upstairs and to her bedroom before dawn.  Enhanced senses must suck balls, though, because when Strife drops by the following afternoon he doesn’t even bat an eye at Reno’s perch at the bar (munching away at the remnants of a fruit salad the brats didn’t take to school), but he does when he gets closer and breathes.  His nose scrunches up as he sniffs in Reno’s direction like a dog - or that snarling wolf emblem he’s so fond of slapping on anything he can get his hands on - and darts those baby blues between his shit-eating grin and Tifa raised brow.  Try me, that look says, complete with the casual gathering of her hair into a high ponytail, the flex of her fingers after it.  Do they smell of each other, then?  How cute.

“... I don’t even wanna know,” Strife eventually says, and Reno laughs.

1 year, 4 months, 2 weeks, 3 days after The Plate

The punch she lands smack on his left pectoral is a love tap compared to what she’s capable of, and instead of the fire he’s half-expecting there’s... mischief in her gaze.

“Tifa -”

“Never say that word in my bar again, Reno, or I’ll ban you permanently.”

“Yes Ma’am, lesson learned.”

“I might even ban Rufus, too.  Make sure the lesson really sticks.”

“Aw naw, c’mon!  That’s hitting below the belt!”

“Please.  We both know you’d be sobbing on the floor if I did that.”

He pouts (she does have a point).  Tifa laughs.  It’s fast becoming his most favourite sound in the world.

[seraph-novak]

Tyrus camping prompt! (Aka I slept outside recently and now I’m full hippie mode, obsessed with nature) TJ is a plant-freak and when they go hiking, he’s quick to name every plant he sees. He ends up having to give Cyrus a piggy-back ride halfway through the hike bc he’s exhausted. They go kayaking and swim in the river, then cuddle together in the tent at night. Also a part where Cyrus wakes up to find TJ making him breakfast over the campfire. (This is super fluffy, my angst days are over)

I don’t know anything about camping (especially in America) so I apologise for any inaccuracies… Even so, I really enjoyed writing this, so I hope you like it!

All feedback is very much appreciated ♥

~~~~~

As they made their way through the densely-packed forest, with the lush, summer grass brushing their ankles and the distant sunlight casting dappled shadows across the path ahead, Cyrus found himself wondering – not for the first time – why he’d agreed to come on this trip in the first place. With every rustle, crunch, and muffled squawk, his fear spread like a flood throughout his entire body, until it settled as a suffocating lump in the back of his throat. He screwed his eyes shut, breathed deeply through his nose, and struggled to remain at least slightly calm.

Somewhere behind them, a twig snapped, and the last of his composure burst out of him in the form of a strangled scream. He spun around, cold sweat springing to the surface of his neck, and stumbled backwards into TJ’s arms.

“What was that?” he cried, reaching blindly for his friend’s hand. When he felt the solid warmth of TJ’s palm pressed against his own, he relaxed a little. “I-I thought I heard something.”

TJ chuckled. “We’re in the forest, Underdog. You’re probably gonna hear a lot of things.”

“Do you think we’re being followed?”

“By a squirrel, maybe.”

“I’m being serious, Teej! I feel like we’re being watched…”

At the trembling note of fear in his voice, TJ turned him around and gently cupped his face in his hands, a reassuring smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“The forest is full of life,” he told him. “There are eyes everywhere. But it’s nothing to be afraid of, okay?”

Cyrus gulped. “A-Are you sure?”

“Look.” TJ took his hand and guided them both to the ground, crouching beside a patch of buttery-yellow flowers spotted amongst the leaves. “These are celandine poppies,” he said, touching Cyrus’ fingertips to the small, delicate petals. “They’re pretty, huh? Not scary at all.”

Cyrus tilted his head to the side, stubbornly searching for something intimidating about the yellow-studded foliage, but there was nothing. TJ was right.

“I guess they’re not scary,” he mumbled. “But I still heard something behind us!”

“You probably did,” TJ conceded with a shrug. “There’s a lot of animals around here, Cy. The forest is full of life, like I said.” He nodded at the poppies and softened his smile. “Just think of them like the flowers, okay? They’re not gonna hurt you.”

Cyrus scoffed. “Oh, yeah… Because bears are a lot like flowers.”

“We’re not gonna see any bears.”

“How do you know?”

“The only bears around here are black bears, and they’re just as scared of us as we are of them.” TJ knocked their shoulders together and offered him another placating smile. “The worst they might do is steal our food while we’re sleeping.”

“Not the food!” Cyrus gasped, a sickening churn of hunger making his stomach rumble.

TJ rolled his eyes fondly and reached into his rucksack, pulling out a couple of protein bars and handing them to Cyrus. “These should hold you over until we set up camp.”

“Which is when, by the way?”

“You can’t be tired already.”

“All this worrying is making me exhausted!” Cyrus whined. He accepted TJ’s outstretched hand and allowed himself to be pulled back to his feet, immediately swaying forward and slumping against TJ’s shoulder. With his cheek cushioned against the softness of TJ’s plaid jacket, he sighed. “Can’t we stop for a bit? My feet hurt…”

“It’s gonna be dark in a few hours,” TJ said, but Cyrus could hear the edge of reluctance in his voice.

“Just a few minutes,” he slurred. “I promise I won’t fall asleep.”

TJ snorted. “You’re drooling.”

“No, I’m not.”

“C’mon, Cy…”

“Please?”

After a moment of silent contemplation, TJ seemed to reach a decision. He tucked an arm under Cyrus’ legs and hauled him into the air, draping Cyrus’ sleep-laden arms over his shoulders and gripping the backs of his ankles for support. It was awkward, what with the bulky rucksack taking up most of the space on his back, but he somehow managed it.

“What are you doing?” Cyrus asked, his fatigue pushed aside by shock for a brief moment. “You can’t carry me the rest of the way! You’ll hurt yourself.”

TJ flicked him an amused glance over his shoulder. “I think you overestimate how heavy you are.”

“I can’t tell if that’s a compliment or not…”

“I’ll be fine. Just… hold on.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“But –”

“The longer you keep arguing, the longer I’ll have to carry you.”

Cyrus snapped his mouth shut, the weariness slowly creeping back into his muscles as he melted against TJ’s back. When they started moving again, the rhythmic sound of TJ’s footsteps began lulling him to sleep, his eyelids drooping with the combined weight of exhaustion and contentment. He curled his fingers in the front of TJ’s shirt, now sticking to his chest with a thin sheen of sweat, and rested his head against TJ’s shoulder.

On the cusp of sleep, his lips twitched drowsily with a smile, the reason he agreed to come on this trip with TJ suddenly seeming so obvious.

~~~~~

When he finally stirred a few hours later, the warmth of TJ’s back was gone, replaced instead by the cool confinements of his sleeping bag. The dying sunlight filtering through the plastic roof of the tent coloured his surroundings with a blue tinge, and the sweltering heat had subsided somewhat, the door to the tent now flapping in a welcoming breeze.

Cyrus wiped his bleary eyes with the back of his arm as he stumbled out of the tent, almost stepping on the protein bars lying next to his sleeping bag in the process. Outside, two rocks had been angled around a nest of tinder – ready for a fire – in the middle of the clearing, and TJ’s rucksack was propped up against a nearby tree. At the sight of his belongings, Cyrus was overcome with a pang of affection for his friend, which quickly shifted into concern when he realised he was completely alone.

“TJ?” he called into the clearing, his eyes frantically scanning the edge of the trees surrounding their campsite. “TJ! If you’ve been eaten by a bear, I won’t be pleased!”

A familiar laugh emerged from behind him, followed by a face-devouring grin that never failed to make his stomach swoop.

“I haven’t been eaten,” TJ said, lifting his arms and doing a little spin as if to prove it. He’d stripped off his jacket and shirt and swapped his pants for a pair of shorts, and his hair was plastered in dark, sopping strands against his forehead. “There’s a river just over there. I went for a swim while you were sleeping.”

Cyrus tore his eyes away from TJ’s bare chest, his cheeks heating with a startled blush. “I… I-I wish you’d woken me up. I was worried.”

“Sorry, Underdog. You just looked so peaceful, you know? I didn’t wanna disturb you.”

“And you set up camp by yourself?”

“It was no biggy,” TJ said, waving off his worries as he combed through his rucksack and tossed an extra pair of shorts at Cyrus. He was smirking when he lifted his head again. “Besides… Your snoring was enough entertainment to keep me occupied.”

Cyrus slapped a hand over his heart, feigning insult. “I do not snore!”

“Okay. You just make pig-like noises in your sleep, then.”

“Very funny…”

“I thought it was cute.” As soon as the words left his mouth, TJ flushed all the way down to his bellybutton. “I… I mean… It was funny. But, like, in a cute way… Does that make sense?”

Cyrus bit his lip. “Yeah, it does… Thank you.”

“Oh. Um… You’re welcome, I guess.”

“How’s the river?” Cyrus asked, desperately searching for a way to move the conversation forward, before things became irreparably awkward.   

TJ shook out his sopping hair, sending droplets of water flying across the campsite, and beamed. “It’s awesome! You have to come for a swim with me, Cy.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“Oh, let me think… Leeches, frogs, big scary fish with sharp teeth… Am I leaving anything out?”

TJ huffed a laugh. “A few fish aren’t gonna hurt you.”

“I’m not willing to take that risk.”

“Not even for me?”

It was a sneaky move, but it worked. At the sight of TJ’s wide, pleading eyes and protruding bottom lip, Cyrus felt his resolve swiftly crumbling. He sucked in a breath, gathering the last few shreds of his defiance, then caved with a sigh. He quickly changed into TJ’s spare shorts, pulling the drawstrings as tightly as possible to accommodate for their staggering size difference, then followed a grinning TJ out of the clearing and towards the river, grumbling all the way.

“I better not drown,” he said, poking TJ firmly in the stomach. “Or get bitten by a radioactive fish and turn into a merman!”

TJ threw his head back with laughter. “I’ll protect you, Underdog.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

By the time they reached the river, the sunlight had softened slightly, the brilliant blue of the sky slowly turning a dusty purple as dusk began to fall. The river was a shimmering expanse of oily black that seemed to stretch on for miles, and Cyrus could imagine himself wading too far and losing himself beneath the eerily flat surface of water, dragged down by a slithery grip on his ankle…

“You’ll be fine,” TJ said, noticing the body-racking shudder running down his spine. He placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze. “I’ll be with you the whole time.”

“Okay.”

“You ready to go in?”

Cyrus crossed his arms over his chest, his bare toes curling in the wet pebbles beneath his feet. “I… I’m not sure…”

“Here.” TJ held out his hand, eyebrows raised expectantly, and waited for Cyrus to take it. When he did, a jolt of electricity shot through his arm, burning off the afternoon chill in an instant. TJ’s thumb swept across his knuckles, and his stomach twisted into knots. “I won’t let go until you’re ready,” TJ murmured softly. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Cyrus said, and this time he meant it.

The first step came as a shock, the sun-kissed water much warmer than he’d expected as it lapped over his feet, but he quickly adjusted to the odd sensation. It was like walking through a knee-high bath in the middle of the forest, with mysterious shadows swimming between his legs and nipping at his toes –

“What was that?” he screamed, splashing a wave of water into the air as he dove behind TJ. The shadow gave an indignant flick of its tail and swam in the opposite direction.

TJ squeezed his hand. “Just a rainbow trout,” he said, pointing out another silvery fish in the near distance. “See the pink stripe across its body?”

“D-Do they eat human flesh?”

“Don’t worry,” TJ said, his words light with laughter, “unless you’re a giant insect, I think you’ll be fine.”

Cyrus allowed himself to breathe again. “Okay, good.”

“Still scared?”

“Yeah, but… Not as much.”

TJ smiled. “You’re doing great, Cy. You wanna go a little further out?”

“Um…”

“I promise I won’t let go, remember?”

“O-Okay.”

With his eyes glued on the murky suggestion of his feet beneath the water, Cyrus slowly followed TJ through the river, his knees eventually slipping beneath the surface until the water was touching his waist.

“I can’t see my feet anymore,” he said, panic quickly rising in his throat as he squinted through the water.

TJ snaked an arm around his waist. “Can you feel them?”

“Well… Yeah, but –”

“Then they’re still there.” He gave Cyrus a wink. “You’re doing fine, Underdog.”

The pride in TJ’s eyes made him feel warm and fuzzy inside, even as the sun started to sink behind the trees bordering the river. He held onto that feeling as TJ led him further and further into the water, until his toes were no longer touching the ground. Every time he started to panic, TJ would point out another fish skimming the surface of the river and start listing off random facts about it, his hand only slipping from Cyrus’ grip when he was sure he was ready. But even then, he was always close by, his eyes never straying too far as they floated in the river side by side, their fingertips brushing beneath the water.

When the sun whispered its final goodbyes, and the moon slowly faded into sight, they reluctantly made their way back to camp. He wasn’t sure what gave him the confidence to do it – maybe it was the exhilaration still coursing through his veins, or the breathtaking smile on TJ’s face – but as they stumbled out of the water, Cyrus reached over and took TJ’s hand again.

“What’s wrong?” TJ asked, taking the gesture as a sign of fear.

Cyrus simply shrugged and smiled. “Nothing.”

“Oh.”

“Is this okay?”

“Yes!” TJ cried. After a beat of silence, he blushed, surprised by his own eagerness, and lowered his voice. “I mean… yes. This is more than okay.”

Later, as they lay on their stomachs and watched the stars from the safety of their tent, Cyrus pushed the boundaries even further, resting his head on TJ’s shoulder and letting a dreamy sigh escape his lips. He fell asleep to the sound of TJ quietly mapping out the constellations above, his one hand tracing their glittering impressions on the endless, velvet sky, and the other carding soothing patterns through Cyrus’ hair.

~~~~~

Cyrus woke to the smell of pancakes hanging in the air. He was still lying on his stomach, with his one arm dangling outside the tent, and his face was smushed against TJ’s plaid jacket. He breathed in the familiar scent and smiled, his stomach fluttering at the mere thought of getting to spend the day with TJ again.

As expected, the other boy was standing over the campfire, quietly pushing the pancakes around in the pan. When he caught Cyrus watching him, he grinned.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

“You have to stop doing all the hard work while I’m asleep,” Cyrus said as he joined his friend by the fire, although he was secretly grateful for the chance to sleep in. “These look amazing, Teej.”

“They’re just pancakes… Nothing fancy.”

“They still look amazing.”

TJ flicked him a side-glance, his cheeks turning pink as their eyes met over the dancing flames. “Thanks,” he said. “I, uh… I didn’t wanna wake you up. You looked too cute. And not in a funny way, either, just… cute.” He licked his lips, a nervous laugh bubbling out of him. “Sorry. That was weird.”

Before he could talk himself out of it, Cyrus leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. TJ flinched at the unexpected gesture, dropping his spatula into the spitting oil and almost knocking the pan to the ground. Completely stunned, he slowly lifted his fingers to the ghost of Cyrus’ lips.

“What… What was that for?” he asked, swallowing thickly.

Cyrus shrugged. “It was my turn to take charge.”

“Oh.” A devious smile thawed the slack-jawed expression of shock on his face, and he playfully bumped their shoulders together. “So you’re in charge of the kisses, huh?”

“Well,” Cyrus said with a smirk, “feel free to take initiative now and again.”

“How about now?”

“Now’s good.”

And with that, TJ pulled him closer and pressed their lips together, the unmistakable curve of his smile lifting against Cyrus’ cheek. He tasted like protein bars and cheap coffee, but Cyrus would’ve happily sat there and kissed him forever, if their breakfast wasn’t slowly burning to a crisp right next to them.

“You better get that,” he whispered, wrinkling his nose at the acrid smell of smoke wafting through the air.

TJ leaned their foreheads together and groaned. “Stupid pancakes…”

“Hey! You take that back.”

“You’re such a dork,” TJ laughed.

“A cute dork?”

“The cutest.”

Cyrus ducked his head and grinned, his heart racing at his own boldness. A few days ago, the idea of TJ finding out about his crush had seemed like an end-of-the-world type of situation, and now he was shamelessly flirting with him next to a pan of burning pancakes without a care in the world. He felt like his life had been turned upside down, but in the best way possible.

“I’ll let you finish breakfast,” he said, forcing himself to let go of TJ and get to his feet. “Are we still going kayaking today?”

TJ quirked an eyebrow. “You want to?”

“Yeah… I think I can handle it.”

“Okay.” TJ nodded, a familiar shimmer of pride in his eyes. “Kayaking it is.”

As Cyrus watched his friend – boyfriend? – finishing breakfast on the opposite side of the campsite, he noticed a small patch of celandine poppies growing between his feet. He touched one of the delicate petals and smiled, his heart soaring as he glanced back at TJ. With the sun casting a perfect halo above his head, he looked beautiful, and Cyrus was overwhelmed by a sudden rush of complete and utter contentment.   

Maybe camping wasn’t too bad after all.

The End.

~~~~~

Thanks for reading!

[pinktatertots99]

oh raven

i’m booooored and i need something to write. based off the song oh raven (won’t you sing me a happy song?)

synops: got half raven half human species liang who lives with chemist qi. who wants something from this pretty raven.

_______

he could hear it again. despite the scratchings of his pen he could continue hearing that disjointed song outside his window. he sighed, can’t concentrate on this no matter how much he tried. pushing out of his chair he moved to the window, unhinging it and opening both doors.

“oi do you-” he paused, noticing what was, no, who was singing to him was both standing a ways from the window, and had the look of a human, arms replaced with wings and only thing covering them were a tank top and loose looking pants. peach colored eyes illuminating more then the moon in the night sky as they looked at qi with surprise and curiosity.

........

qi could feel the exhaustion in his eyes as he wrote down his next prescription to send out. scratching his pen harder as the ink slowly faded till his writing became dents in the paper.

sighing he sat back with his head tilted up and eyes closed, feeling two feather covered wings and long raven hair dripping down his face. “need something?” they asked as qi petted that silky long hair, looking up to see peach match to his magenta eyes.

he just had to open that window and keep it open for this guy to walk in. it’s been...almost a month now and he’s grown used to him, getting him to confess his name and seeming to mostly stay inside. qi found it rather cute in a way.

he smiled and sighed. “pen just ran out.” he mumbled. “think it’s just getting old it can’t hold any ink.” he felt the other let go, looking he could see the other pluck a feather out with a muffled grunt, holding out his raven feather to the chemist. he chuckled lightly as he took it. “your too much liang.” he petted him lightly, liang nuzzling into it like a bird would.

moving away he started writing again, hearing the clawed feet of liang walking to the window. “gonna go sing?” qi asked as liang unhinged the window. “heh, yeah.” qi answered himself, looking over a bit. “ey liang,” he started, liang looking back as a foot was on the window sill, looking at him curiously.

“can ya maybe, sing something a little happy?” he asked with a smile. liang looked surprised and looked back with a light blush on his face that was illuminated by the moon. “...i’ll...do my best.” he stated as he swooped out. 

qi shook his head amused as he continued writing. he knew the younger couldn’t exactly do one well, but qi wanted to give him something to work on. he already felt bad he was cooped inside for so long, something like singing a different song might help him. ...but what does he know?

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

the broken tune of his singing echoed over the ocean as liang sat on the tallest rock pillar, located close to the mountain of the beach as the wind blew lightly. his hair flowing with it lightly, till suddenly it flew a bit harder by an extra gust causing him to pause.

“why even continue with this?” he heard that young light voice ask. looking back he found the pale skinned younger with dark colored eyes, turquoise hair that matched his wings whilst wearing a short sleeved kimono. he rolled his eyes at him. “i find it entertaining.”

“the noise or the trash?” he asked sarcastically, gaining a glare from the other. “i don’t have anything else to do.”

“you can do anything instead of being caged. or garble out...whatever your doing.”

“singing.”

“...not funny.”

“and your to talk!?” upa rolled his eyes as he landed close to liang. “anyways, whatever your doing in either category is going to be hazardous.” liang rose a brow. “hazardous? ...you do know the situation right?”

“and apparently you don’t?”

“...huh?”

===============

“man, such a slow progress on your work chemist.” qi rested his palm on his hand as he laid his shoulder on his desk, looking bored-ly at the pig headed giant in robes infront of him holding his medicine. “takes time.”

“sure your not just lazing around?”

“oh we both know i’m lazy-”

“maybe lazing with someone?~”

he was thankful he could pull of his poker face to not feel the slightest unsettled by that notion. “do i look the type?” the giant hummed as he handed the basket to one of his lackey’s. “maybe not you...that bird-y on the other hand though~...”

at that he felt a shiver up his spine. he thought how? but this was hachiman he was talking bout, of course someone would be there to report to him on anything from his progress to whoever was around. “...so ya gonna keep small talking or what?”

hachiman chuckled. “those kind of beauties sell well in the markets. and sell well, we’re talking enough for ya to get an upgrade to this shack of yours...if your willing to take a gamble at it~.”

something was boiling inside of him as he kept the cool face, relieving a sigh. “well, is convincing. ...buuut, i’mma afraid he’s not for bargaining. sides, simple life’s a nice life ain’t it?”

the room fell silent as the two sat in the room. hachiman slowly shaking, which slowly lead to him giving out giggles, to full blown laughter. qi could feel his hair prick up at it. “o-oh-hahahaha r-right haha of course! ahahhahaha well then, i suppose i-i’ll just take ya word for it hahaha!” qi could feel the scary irony of it as hachiman rose to sit up. “well, i’ll still give you some sorta extra payment atleast.”

“if ya take him i’m quitting this damn business.” the room fell quieter like before, hachiman slowly looking back. “...oh yeah?”

_______________________

“...” liang brought his legs closer to his chest as upa finished his explanation. “...didn’t even notice.”

“of course not, your head’s too high in the clouds. despite you not even flying.” he stated as liang sighed, something inside felt...as if something wasn’t right. “i dunno...something bout him, even then, didn’t feel like it.”

“...whatever you feel then, be careful with it.” upa stated as both sat up. “if your going back to him, i have some spare time.”

“is that what you call it now?” upa flapped his wing to the other with a pout as liang blew turquoise feathers from his face.

.................

“you can instantly tell what kind of person he is with this shab of a living place.”

“...upa, we came from a species that made nests.”

“that was the past. here in the present it’s different.” liang rolled his eye, catching the door slightly ajar. perking his head he moved to it, opening it slowly open. “now be somewhat...decent when y-...” both paused as their eyes widened to the hastely destroyed inside, all going back to the non-moving body in the pool of blood.

the raven barely heard upa’s fast swooping of wings and “i’m getting help!” as he walked slowly to the body on the floor, lowering to his knees as he gently put the tip of his wing to the stragily hair.

“...did...i die?” he asked suddenly, catching the other off guard as qi coughed. “wings...thought i was...seein an angel....i mean...i’m not wrong right?” he chuckled and coughed as liang looked over his bruised and crumpled stature. “...why?”

“...” qi looked away despite the small smile on his face. “it’s what i get...for thinking i could...talk back and protect ya.” liang’s frown deepened as he laid onto the other. “dummy. don’t make this in vain then.”

“heh...that’ll be the day...ya try singing...a ha...ppy...son...g”

_______________

“qi?” qi opened his eyes lightly, feeling the feathered hug and nestled head on his shoulder. it wasn’t some dream alright, something he reminded himself alot ironically. “yeah?”

“...i can stay here, right?”

“course ya can. such a silly question from a birdy like ya heh.” he chuckled lightly as he got a light wap to his chest by the wing’s tip. “it’s no bother?”

“why’dya be a bother? maybe i like having a cutie like ya around~.” he teased, feeling liang hug him tighter like he was flustered. “w-...well, if it means your okay with this, then i’ll stay.”

“...think i’d like that.” qi commented, slowly closing his eyes. “sides, i get a feathery blanket too...”

_________________

such an unfamiliar sound echoed in qi’s head, slowly feeling it shed light inside and from the outside as he opened his eyes. facing him was the unfamiliar roof. right...that memory...how funny in a way he thought. his ears registered the noise that awoken him, was such a beautiful tune. turning his head his magenta eyes widened as he found the raven singing it, head ducked with his locks hiding his face.

“...man...do i have to almost die to help ya?” qi joked, gaining the tear stained peach eyes that were widened in shock. without any warning qi felt the weight of him almost falling onto him, barely saved with liang keeping a centimeter or two away to prevent it.

“oi oi oi lets try not to kill me twice ehehe.” he chuckled lightly as liang held him tighter. smiling he held him in reply. “sorry, ya had to see that eheh.”

“you tried...protecting me...it’s okay.” liang choked out as qi sighed. “yeah...didn’t do too many wonders though.”

“so, the chief said we’d be okay in the safe house few towns dow-” both looked to see the wide eyed upa. “...and your sure he’s not tra-”

“upa!”

“wha-new friend? wait safe house-officer- huh?”

“they have a lead on your boss.” upa stated, causing the other to freeze up a bit. “...seriously?”

“do i look like a kidder?”

“...well, the kid part maybe but more of a kill joy-” qi shrieked at the fast swoop the younger attempted only to be stopped by liang. “UPAAA PLEASE!”

“be lucky you have a shield of raven feathers trash.” he threatened at the elder, landing on his feet as he moved to leave the room. sighing liang looked to qi who was currently trying not to laugh. “man, gotta something there huh?” he asked, only to get a light bonk of a wing. “atagonize him long enough and he will.”

“eheh, well, you ready regardless for this?” he asked, seeing the ruffle of feathers as liang gave a shy nod. “great, now, can i hear that song again please~?”

[ancientbooshartifacts]

Get Inside You, Boy

Author: Culumacilinte

Year: 2008

Rating: R

Pairing: Howard/Spirit of Jazz

Asleep in his bed, Howard Moon shifted fitfully, rolling onto his side and bunching up his pillow under his head.  His lips moved imperceptibly, muttering nonsense syllables.  In the cold moonlight filtering through the window, a sheen of sweat glimmered on his forehead, making damp curls stick to the skin.

A voice sifted through his dreams, interrupting a particularly pleasant image of Mrs. Gideon sorting bookmarks while Howard looked on with a fond smile.

Howard Moon…

He whimpered a little and his knees drew themselves up to his chest, his slumbering brain focussing harder on the image of Mrs. Gideon.

Wake up, boy!  I’s talkin’ to you.

Mrs. Gideon looked around, the lines of a frown twisting her smooth, creamy brow.  ‘Howard?  Did you hear that?’

Dream-Howard shook his head nervously and adjusted his monocle.  ‘That’s nothing, Mrs. Gideon; nothing to worry your head about.’

Mrs. Gideon gave him a brilliant smile, laying a hand on his arm.  ‘Oh, you are so kind to me, Howard.  How is your novel coming, by the way?  The first draft was absolutely riveting!’

Her approval and recognition, even when it was nothing more than a dream, sent a glow to Howard’s heart and his face broadened in a dazzling grin.  Both grin and glow died, however, the instant the voice spoke again.

Shut up, girlie!  The voice was more insistent now, and was beginning to sound decidedly irritated.  This boyo’s mine.  Wake up, Howard Moon; get your fine ass outta them dreams and listen t’me!

Beneath his sheets, Howard trembled, clutching his comforter tight around him, his brow contorted in pig-headed persistence that he stay asleep.  The Howard in his dream trembled too, but he had nothing to clutch to him, and so instead put a comforting hand on Mrs. Gideon’s shoulder, trying his best to look manly and confident, a proper son of Leeds.  She, however, seemed not to have heard the voice at all and continued blissfully sorting her bookmarks.

‘Go away!’  Howard hissed, ‘Leave me alone!  I was having a good dream!’

The invisible voice chuckled cruelly.  Leave you alone, boy?  That ain’t never gonna happen.  You’s mine, baby, and when I call, you’s gonna answer me.  Y’ain’t got no choice.

Fists clenched at Howard’s sides, and he stared determinedly down at the ground.  ‘I have a choice, sir!  I am Howard Moon, Man of Action!  They call me Monsoon Moon; I’m a maverick!  You try and tell me what to do, and I’ll come at you like a skipping rope!  Like a-’

But the voice cut him off.

Mmm, yeah, you’s a maverick, peachy-face; but what kinda maverick, Howard Moon?  You know the answer.

Howard’s face fell; there was no denying it now, and both he and the owner of the invisible voice knew it.  ‘Jazz Maverick,’ He muttered, defeated.  The voice cackled exultantly.

That’s right!  You’s the Jazz Maverick, Howard Moon, and when the Spirit o’ Jazz tells you to wake up, you damn well wake!

The last word was almost a shout; or as close to a shout as the raspy voice of the Spirit of Jazz ever got, and Howard shot up in his bed with a yell.  It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, but when they did… there was nothing.  Just darkness, and a square of blue rippling across the bedsheets where the moonlight came in.  He sagged against the headboard and closed his eyes, exhaling a quavering sigh of relief.

‘Thank god,’ he muttered into his chest.

‘Who ya thanking there, boy?  God?  He ain’t got nothin’ t’do with it.’

‘Augh!’

Howard’s eyes snapped open.  There at the foot of the bed stood the Spirit of Jazz, legs crossed and arms out in that familiar, overly-dramatic pose, white suit and top hat almost luminous in the darkness.  His eyes glowed red against the cool darkness of Howard’s room.  Howard was swamped with a sensation of complete and utter horror, any relief he had felt at seeing the room empty lost in an instant.  A prickle of goose bumps broke out on the skin of his forearms.

‘Missed me, have you boy?  Been a long time since I visited you.’

Howard trembled.  ‘What are you doing here?’  He asked quietly, ‘Haven’t you already troubled me enough?’

The Spirit of Jazz laughed raucously, baring disturbingly black teeth.  ‘Enough, sweetness?’  He echoed, ‘I ain’t never had enough, Howard!  And I been robbed o’ your fine self for so many years, after all...’

‘What do you want?’

He had begun to pull himself together, Howard.  At least, his voice shook less, and the look in his eyes was calmer, but inside, he was trembling like a tiny little girl from Leeds, albeit a tiny little girl with a moustache.  The Spirit of Jazz sneered at him, strangely pink tongue running over those black teeth.  He’d been inside Howard Moon; he knew this man, and he could practically taste his fear.  He could taste it, and he found himself to be particularly partial to the flavour.  He leered at Howard.

‘You knows what I wants, boy!  Surely y’ain’t that stupid.’

‘Oh, god...’  Howard’s voice was nothing more than a whimper, several pitches higher than any grown man’s ought to be, and he shrieked and screwed his eyes tightly shut as the Spirit of Jazz swooped down upon him.

‘Don’t kill me, please!’ He sobbed, ‘I’ve got so much to give!  I’ve- I’ve-’ But nothing happened, and feeling a slight sense of anticlimax, he unscrewed the left eye slightly.  He fairly leapt at the sight that met him, however; the Jazz Spirit was kneeling on the bed, straddling Howard’s legs laid out in front of him, arms propped up on either side of Howard’ torso, skeletal face scant inches from his.  At the moment, he was looking decidedly disappointed.

‘Don’t be an idiot,’ He said, voice- for once- devoid of delighted mockery.  He took a moment, and then seemed to regain his steam, exhaling a harsh rasp of a laugh against Howard’s skin.  ‘I wants you, boy!  I wants to get inside you, wear you like a soft lady’s glove.’

That tongue flickered obscenely against his teeth, and red eyes went wide and mad.

Howard drew back- or rather, he tried to, but found that the headboard of his bed was rather in the way.  He continued trying anyway.  ‘If you don’t mind, sir,’ he said weakly, ‘I’d really rather prefer it if you didn’t.  Um, that is, there’s a lot of things need doing at the zoo tomorrow, and I need to get my sleep...’

He trailed off weakly, and the Spirit of Jazz shook his head at him, seeming almost rueful.

‘Pathetic,’ he muttered, ‘You’s a jazz boy, Howard Moon, and you’s worried about workin’ at some dumbass zoo?   Y’see why I’s here?  You needs remindin’ ‘bout who you is, boy.’

A panic was blossoming in Howard’s chest now, but he tried to pull himself up regardless.  ‘Perhaps you could hoodwink me when I was a young man, sir, but Howard Moon is a man of action!  I’ll not be taken in that easily.  I-’ he stumbled somewhat, ‘I suggest you make your exit now, sir; you’ll be finding nothing you want here.’

The Spirit of Jazz chuckled again, and his grin was dark and cruel.  ‘Ahh, now see- that’s your problem, boy.  You thinks you’s gots a choice in the matter.’

And before Howard could react- could object or say anything- the Jazz Spirit surged forward and crushed his black lips to Howard’s in a brutal kiss.  

Howard let out a muffled cry, and the Spirit of Jazz disappeared against his lips, leaving nothing more than a lingering taste of ash and the wail of trumpets in his head.  Then, in the darkness, Howard’s eyes flamed red.

His whole body relaxed, suddenly warm and heavy with the feeling of good Louisiana whiskey, and a voice spoke inside his head.

There now, ain’t that better, boy?  You’s mine, you’s always been mine, and you likes it.

Howard nodded dreamily as his body slid back down to lie flat, one knee bent lazily.  He stared at the ceiling with crimson eyes, and one hand slipped down over the faint convexity of his belly, then up again to toy with a nipple though the fabric of his shirt.  He sighed faintly, ‘Yes...’ whispering out in the heavy air, and his voice was tinged with a raspy, Cajun twang.

You wants me, doncha boy?  Wants me all up in you?  A chuckle, It’s your lucky day, sweet cheeks.

The smell of dead cigarettes and cheap booze consumed Howard’s mind, the scent of the dirt and grime of a hundred people’s lives, accented inexplicably with the chemical tang of lemon cleaner.  He recognised that smell- the smell of The Blue Aubergine way back when, when Howard was a jazz legend in Yorkshire.  He had a guitar in his hands and his fingers were flying at incredible speeds, the incredible sounds of his jazz stylings carrying to the darkest corners of the pub.  The crowd was going wild, loving him, and he was their master-

Just like that, boy...

His hand gripped harder at his chest, fingers digging bruisingly hard into the scant muscle of his pectoral, and he groaned deep in his throat, his other hand tracing with maddening slowness down into his boxers.   A breathless laugh, exultant and rapturous, tripped from his lips as a hand stroked down the length of his half-hard prick.  Had it been Howard, he would have got things over with quickly and quietly, but this was the Spirit of Jazz, and he was a sadistic bastard.  He wanted to hear Howard moan, to see him arch up against the touch of his own hand, to want until he could stand it no longer.

And so he was slow, and in Howard’s head, a wild improvised trumpet solo built to incredible heights.

That’s right!  That there’s the power o’ jazz, Howard Moon.  Gets inside ya, gets under your skin, makes ya tingly.   Don’t nothin’ else make you feel like that, do it?  I knows you, boy; you wants me.  I’s jazz, and jazz is your lifeblood, ain’t it? You’s beggin’ me for it, baby.

Howard moaned, biting down hard on his lip as the hand snuck lower, cupping hotly at his bollocks, heavy in his hand, and further still to stroke over the tight ring of muscle there.  A shudder traversed its way up his spine, and the voice of the Spirit of Jazz cooed in his ear.

Oh-ho!  Y’likes that... So you’s that kinda man, hmm, Howard Moon?  Y’likes bein’ told what t’do, do ya?

In some far corner of his mind, Howard Moon tried desperately to reassert himself, pulling with all the strength in his Yorkshire bones.  He was a man of action, he told himself squarely.  A man of means and influence, the kind of man others looked up to; not someone who enjoyed taking orders from anyone, much less a Cajun freak in blackface!

That finger was still there though, rubbing back and forth in the crease of his arse, and when it pushed itself in, just past that first barrier, all his resistance crumbled.  He whimpered, straining against the feeling of his own finger inside himself, cool and strange and not nearly there enough.

Y’want me to fuck you, peachy face?  That what you want?

‘G-god, yes!  Please, yes...’

The Spirit of Jazz said nothing more, just laughed cruelly inside Howard’s head, on and on, ringing in the jazz club as the double bass thrummed in the background and the saxophone soared bluesily above the crowd.

The hand scrabbled on the bedside table for where Howard knew the lotion was, and then one finger, two, three were inside him, and Howard’s mouth went wide and slack, his eyes glazed with pleasure.  The angle was awkward, but Howard’s breath stuttered in his chest nonetheless when the Spirit of Jazz curled his fingers tight inside Howard, stretching places deep inside him.  When the other hand left off toying with his scant chest hair and slid down to slick itself over his cock, he fairly moaned, his hips bowing off the mattress into the touch of that hand- his, and yet somehow not at all.

The hand pumped, and the fingers inside him fucked Howard mercilessly, curling and stretching, his whole body pretzellling to try and get them deeper, harder.  But it wasn’t enough, it wasn’t good enough, and the Spirit of Jazz growled through Howard’s throat, working him faster.

Oh, yeah… the voice purred against Howard’s ear, That’s what you likes, ain’t it?  Ya likes to be fucked hard, Howard Moon, like a little bitch.

Howard groaned desperately.  ‘I- no, I-’

Say that so’s I can hear it, bitch!

‘Please!’ He choked out, arching frantically against the Jazz Spirit’s touch.  He couldn’t bring himself to say anymore, but the Spirit of Jazz felt it in his body, saw it in his mind, and he ran an invisible tongue across invisible teeth, leering invisibly at Howard.

Whatever you says.

The hand worked him harder, the other twisting inside him, and Howard’s vision fuzzed out for a moment from the sheer pleasure of it, his back arching.  He was so close, almost there, almost… there-

The trumpet solo rang out over the crowd, spiralling madly upward, twisting and turning in midair before finally, insanely, hitting a triple high C.  There was a hush, and the throng stared; for several slow-motion moments, the note hovered still, high and pure and utterly uncorrupted.

And then Howard collapsed onto his back, mouth wide open and gasping for breath, two lines of white painted across his stomach.  The Spirit of Jazz materialised beside the bed, leering down at him, his suit utterly pristine, hat still firmly in place.  Exhausted, Howard shook his head, looking away, trying to ignore the presence beside him, but the Jazz Spirit cackled into the night air and settled himself on the edge of the bed, almost daintily.

‘You liked that, boy?’

Howard didn’t answer, and instead pulled the blanket over himself, suddenly extremely conscious of his own nakedness.  It was cold in his room, colder than he could ever remember it being.

The Spirit of Jazz crowed with delighted laughter.  ‘Oh-ho!  And now’s the time for the psychological torment, hey?  Oh, baby, you’s a good time, Howard Moon.’

‘Go away,’ Howard muttered into his blankets.  It was too late for him to recover any measure of dignity, but he would not further prolong his torment.  He would not play along with whatever sick game the Spirit was playing.  That laugh scraped over his skin, though, a harsh rasp in the darkness, and Howard could feel the unnatural burn of his eyes.

‘I’s always here, boy!  I’ll go away, sure thing- I gots other things t’do- but I’s inside your head, Howard Moon.  Every time you listen to one o’ them old jazz LPs you loves so much, every time you falls asleep… I’m a-gonna be there, just waitin’ for you.’

‘Please leave; I can’t deal with this right now.  I have… things to think about.’

The Spirit of Jazz let out a bark of laughter.  ‘Ha!  Sure that’s what you gots t’do.  I’ll leave, sugar, but you ain’t seen the last o’ me; you sure’s hell ain’t.’

There was a sound like the last, futile flicker of a dying candle, and when Howard turned over in his bed, the Spirit of Jazz was gone.  He couldn’t sleep though, not even now, in the warm, comforting emptiness of his room.  Howard knew it was true, what he’d said, and inside his head, the Spirit of Jazz laughed and laughed and laughed.