#they’d feed each other’s egos so bad

[rsatoru]

bbzzzz bzzzzzztttt...

your phone has been buzzing over the coffee table for two minutes. two minutes and 14 seconds.

sigh

you rise from the table—the very table overflowing with godforsaken paperwork the godforsaken higher-ups have assigned you to finish. you’re trying to focus and get everything finished as soon as possible, but the obnoxiously person trying to call you on the phone wouldn’t let you right now.

͏͏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀toruru !! ^_^ (ate ur cookies) (do not answer.)

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ringing . . . ✆ ⠀⠀⠀ 1:27 pm⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀answer ၊ decline

of course, it’s no other than your idiot of a boyfriend

clicking the answer button, cause who are you to resist him anyways? . . . “satoru.” you say unimpressed. “baby!! :D” the cheerful voice on the other side exclaims.

“aren’t you supposed to be on a mission right now?”

“uhuh,” satoru scoffs, “’m on the same mission you forced me to go because you hate me so much!”

“satoru, sigh it’s your job, your responsibility. you can’t just ditch an order from principle yaga because you wanna stay at home cuddling me.” you respond

“can’t a man just have some quality time with his dearest girlfriend in peace?” satoru whines over the phone

“toru, baby,”

“fine.. :(” oh, you were so sure you could almost hear his smile turn into a frown. that being said, “why’d you call?” asking, looking back over at your unfinished paperwork, oh the higher ups might just beat your ass.

dating satoru means also having to deal with his long phone calls. you’re aware you could easily just hang up on him, but unfortunately for you, sometimes you don’t even realize you got too caught up in the moment. you love him too much, too much you can effortlessly handle his obnoxiously long phone calls—and he doesn’t even talk about anything important or necessary! and you think, maybe, you’re just as down bad as he is for you.

“oh yeah! heh, sorry babe, your voice made my mind go blank.” — “you’ll never guess what kind of technique these so called first grade cursed spirits have!” and he asks you to turn your camera on—in which you did-

revealing a bunch of cats spawning and jumping everywhere “look at the kind of domain expansion this guy has!” satoru was in an innate domain with cats just swarming the area. satoru called you to show he was in an innate domain with cats just swarming the area. because he knew.

“oh my gosh.” you say in shock. staring at whatever is happening in your screen. “toru toru! bring me one! maybe that one or or-” the cats were so cute. you absolutely loved cats. you adored them, each and every one you’ve ever seen. whether they were strays on the street or pampered pets, they were all just so adorable.

because he knew you absolutely loved cats.

these cats though, were aggressive. aggressively cute though—trying so hard to scratch your boyfriend which was impossible, all attacks were effortlessly blocked by his infinity.

“uhhh, uhhh.. no can do sweets. just look at these sly pussies trying to scratch my glorious face! i can’t let them do that to your even-more-glorious face. they’re dangerous! can’t let them hurt my baby.” he responses.

“uhm, no. you’re just rambling satoru. they’d love me.” you retort. satoru was more of a dog person—he doesn’t know such shit about cats. he doesn’t like them. but you teach him anyways; how to properly hold them, what kind food you shouldn’t feed them, etc etc,

and he actually listens.

“no baby! anyways, you know that guy over there? yeah, him. he can create pizza with cursed energy and throw it at me! it’s surprisingly strong to be fair.. but y��know they stand no chance against me.” there goes his ego as always.

“anyways—what kind of pizza do you want? tell me which toppings and i gotchu baby.”

“so you’re telling me, you’d rather get me pizza, imbued with cursed energy, which you say is pretty strong, but not cats?” you hiss, raising a brow over the phone.

“uhhhh... yeah? ( ' ⩊ '𖦹)”

this is so dumb tbh but i jst had pizza for dinner i couldn’t not think about my glorious king

[save-the-villainous-cat]

i just found ur account and i’ve been reading your stuff almost all day, it’s SO GOOD

i was wondering if maybe you could write something where the hero and villain are siblings, but the hero thought the villain died years ago (like they were a hero, it was thought that they died in a battle, and now they’re back as a villain)? i feel like u have such a great style for that!!! 💕💕

The hero had expected this. Deep down, they had hoped it would never be true but people could change their names and their appearance but ultimately, they would forever be what they’ve always been.

Although the villain wanted to, they couldn’t change the way they reacted. They couldn’t change their fighting style and they couldn’t change their manner of speaking. The hero had been reminded of their sibling when looking at the villain and now that the mask was finally off, their suspicions were confirmed. It wasn’t exactly a surprise. More like a catalyst that would trigger all the built up emotions.

“I’ll explain, I promise, I’ll explain—” The villain held their hands up, as if to initiate some sort of peace contract. They weren’t nervous, didn’t look like they felt bad.

But the hero didn’t say anything. They didn’t want anything anymore. Instead of arguing, they put away their weapon, took a deep breath and turned away, looking at the city below. They were truly ready to go. To finally let go of their sibling.

“Can we talk about this?” the villain asked but the hero was already taking a path that would lead them home.

“Talk about what?”

“About this situation. About this whole thing,” the villain insisted. They laughed nervously. “I didn’t want it to be like this. I had no choice when I saw what the city turned into. We needed harsher consequences.”

“So you start murdering everyone who doesn’t oblige?” the hero asked. God, their sibling was so stupid. “That’s it? That’s what you are now? That’s what you’ve become?”

“No, you don’t understand. That’s not what I’m doing. You wouldn’t understand. You always twist the truth.”

“I think that’s exactly what you’re doing,” the hero said. The hero turned around and stared into those eyes that were nearly identical to their own. At their sibling, the one they’d looked up to, had wanted to live up to their entire life.

The one who had hugged them when mom had died, even though they hated physical touch. Even though they hadn’t held each other’s hands or hit each other up to that point for years.

“Words cannot even describe how exorbitantly disappointed I am at you,” the hero said. “You should feel ashamed of yourself.”

“We all know I’m the disappointment of the family. We all know that, you don’t have to tell me,” the villain spat, now looking like they were ready to go to war, instead of signing the peace treaty.

The hero’s gaze sharpened.

“You were everything to me,” they said. “I looked up to you. I would’ve followed you wherever you would go. I would’ve believed everything you told me. I would’ve fought side by side with you. I wanted to be like you, even when we were arguing. You absolute asshole.”

Gawking at them, the villain didn’t move, didn’t even seem to breathe. Both knew the hero was just starting.

“You left me,” the hero said. “I’ve known you all my life and you left me. Left me when I needed you, left me because you were only thinking about your dumb ambition to feed your ego. You’re the most disgusting person I have ever met and I am ashamed of being related to you.”

There was this nervous laugh again and the hero wanted to hit the villain right in the face.

“What are you even good for anymore?” the hero asked. “I can tie my shoes now. I can cut my own hair. I can make thousands of dollars in a few months. And look at you. What are you good for? Now, that you have the audacity to disappoint our mother in her grave? Becoming what she fought against? Is that it?” The hero shook their head and turned around to walk home.

“I sincerely hope you get what you deserve,” the hero added.

They didn’t want to talk to them. Ever again.

[robot-rarepairs-dotcom]

Powerglide/Brainstorm please, I'm begging on my knees because I'm pretty sure this ship only exists in my heart.

Two crazy bastards that are all too happy to stroke each other's huge egos, and generally feed into the chaos that they both radiate. Anytime they get a chance to work together, Magnus has a meltdown.

Powerglide, a daredevil adrenaline junkie that thinks he can outfly Cybertron's fastest jets, all too happy to throw himself on Brainstorm's experiment table just for the hell of it. He gets upgrades, and has a super hot scientist working on him at the same time, win/win.

Brainstorm being all too happy to indulge Powerglide, to help him push his flying to the limit with (questionable) upgrades and (illegal) energon addatives. Most mechs find Powerglide to be a bit too much to tolerate, but Brainstorm appreciates having such an eager and helpful lab assistant.

Just... Brainstorm and his exciteable minibot conjunx following him around like a lovesick puppy dog on their way to piss off the ethtics committee.

I'd love to see any headcanons you might have for them, or the 5 minute sheet. And seriously if anyone vibes with this, please yell at me about it.

I did both the minute sheets because I’m actually very very interested. I think Powerglide could make Brainstorm feel like a real person you know? He’d put up with his nonsense and honestly they’d be like this:

As for some headcanons:

They both swoon over each other when they take their masks off

Powerglide loves listening to Brainstorm yap

Brainstorm bites in his sleep when he’s not wearing a mask and will feel bad but honestly Powerglide doesn’t mind waking up with brands

They’re stupidly clingy and annoying but they love each other so much it’s crazy

[inkykeiji]

i just wanna say that on your aes blog, im so in love with shakespeare that i knew the quote in ur bio right away. i wasnt an english major but when everyone rolled their eyes when we had to read hamlet or any of works of his, i was giddy lol his works can be confusing to read but how can one simple sentence pack such a punch??? shit my heart lol

AAAAAAH IM SO HAPPY!!!!! ME TOO I LOVE HIM SOOOOOOO MUCH literally so much i wrote shakespeare fanfiction which i guess is really just an adaptation at this point LMAO

hamlet is my favourite out of all his works!!!! i could go on for HOURS about how incredible of a character hamlet is. he endlessly inspires me in my own work aaaah and you’re so RIGHT i literally live by that line it’s incredible

[bettysupremacy]

Sleepless Nights Like These

Steve Harrington x fem! Reader

Summary: When Steve is lonely, and can’t sleep, he thinks about his girl, and everything he loves about her. Though a late night visit from his favorite girl always makes things better.

Warnings: none I think? Like one mention of a strip tease as a joke, one curse word I think, it’s literally just fluff. Overbearing and tooth rotting fluff. Literally sick to my stomach while posting this cause I want it so bad.

1.5k words ☻

Steve’s favorite place to receive her kisses were right under his ear, on the tender malleable skin that always felt oh-so sensitive. He loved how her lips molded into it, the way it sent tingles up his jaw, the way each of the kisses were long and thought out.

He knew she loved them too, but definitely no more than him.

He wished he could take that feeling, preserve it, hold it close to himself on the nights he couldn’t see her. He’d keep it tight in a Mason Jar, in Tupperware, between pages of a book like pressed flowers, if it meant he got to pull it out and have it on nights like these.

His fingers itch to grab his phone.

He loved the way she loved his voice. Talking, singing, whispering. He knew she wished she could record everything he said and replay it back in her Walkman, she’d told him herself.

She’d stare at him with these dopey lovesick eyes when he sang, heart squeezing satisfactorily when he’d lazily look down at her. He wouldn’t normally sing, but when his girl asks for a song, she’s getting a song. They’d lay in bed and she’d feed his ego these big bites he didn’t know if it could swallow.

“Your rasp changed my life.” She’d said, and he believed her.

He loved the nights, like last night, where she’d beg him to drive her outside Hawkins city, to somewhere the blinding streetlights couldn’t reach. She’d show him the constellations she saw through the misty morning air, on her walk to the bus that morning. Steve doesn’t care that he can almost never see them, he’ll let her grab his outstretched arm and guide his pointed index finger where she wants him to look.

“Do you see those dots?”

“Yes.” He’d been lying.

“Those make up Orion’s Belt.”

“Who’s Orion?” He’d pushed. It was his way of begging her to keep talking.

“Orion was a huntsman who-“

He loved the little notes she would slip into his lunch bag. He’d pretend he didn’t see her sneak it in there before she had to leave for school.

“Nancy’s driving me to school today!” She’d yelled by the front doors, and he gave it a moment before he came into the foyer, giving her time to stuff the colored paper into the bag.

They were often no more creative than the greeting cards he’d see at Melvald’s general store, but they were greater by far. He’d make himself wait till lunch to read them, give himself something to look forward to, but he’d be itching to read them all day.

I love you!

Have a good day Stevie!

Don’t get on Robins bad side, I love you!

He’d keep them in his pocket for the rest of the day, thumbing at it. The message staying in the forefront of his brain until he saw her next. He kept them in a spare brown bag up in his closet hiding away, he could never find the strength to throw them into the family video bin.

He wished she were here now, laying in bed with him. Nothing dirty, he needs to clarify. He wants her to push his hair back and to beg him to keep scissors away, to tell him for the millionth time don’t shave the mustache.

He grabs the phone quickly, split decision before he can change his mind, dialing in her number. It rings 3 times before he checks the time. 12:34 blinks at him brightly. Shit, he should’ve-

“Hello?” His girlfriends groggy voice comes from the other side.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you up, sweetheart?”

“Good morning, Stevie.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

He hears the click of her lamp. “Why’re you calling so late?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Could I help?”

“This is helping.” He tells her honestly.

“Could I come over and help in person?”

“You can’t walk here at midnight, because your dickhead boyfriend cant sleep.”

“Don’t call yourself that.” He can hear her shuffling around her room, “We live two houses away from each other.”

He huffs, giving up the small argument — this is what he had wanted. “I’m gonna wait outside for you.”

“You can if you want.”

“I do.”

He hangs up, jogging downstairs quickly so he can be outside before she leaves her house. The cool night air nips at his skin, settling a chill of goosebumps over his arms and thighs. He really should’ve put a shirt on. Or pants.

“Is this strip tease for me?”

He turns, watching her hop down her front porch steps. She giggles at his horrified face.

“We have neighbors!”

She shrugs, pulling her coat closer as she checks the empty street for cars. “The Wilsons are on vacation.”

“And the Clifton’s?”

“On vacation with the Wilson’s.”

Steve gasps, “And we weren’t invited?”

She walks into his outstretched arms, letting him wrap himself around her. “I’d hope not, they’re weird.”

“They are weird.” He agrees.

She leans up on her tip toes, grabbing his jaw in both her hands so she could kiss under his ear. He leans into her touch, gripping her waist tighter as he fights to bottle the feeling, so he can remember it later.

They’ve never talked about it. The ear kisses. It wasn’t something you needed to talk about, something you needed to discuss. They were uniquely them.

His eyes droop sleepily and he stressfully rubs at them, hoping she didn’t see the way his blinking stalled.

“What’re we doing tonight?” He bends down and nips at her jaw.

“Getting you to sleep?”

“The fun way?” He murmurs into the kisses he just worked down her neck.

She draws from his touch, pushing him away, though she can’t hide the giddy smile from his affection. He looks down at her, pulling her closer by her forearms. His smile is saccharine sweet as he watches her abashed nose wrinkle.

“Was it something I said?” He muses, chasing her eyes. When she doesn’t answer Steve, he pokes her sides. “Hm?”

She giggles, peels of them getting lost in the dark night. “Nothing you said.”

“Oh, okay, I was getting worried.”

She shakes her head, bubbly giggles dying down. It’s cold out here, so cold, and Steve is still in his boxers. He pulls her in again, wrapping his arms around her and nosing at the juncture where her neck meets her shoulder. She smells like her chamomile body wash.

“I’m cold.”

“Baby,” She wraps her arms around his back flatter, willing her warmth to transfer to him, “You’re freezing. Lets go get under your covers.”

He takes her up on that offer, chasing her up his stairs and into his room, pulling her close to him and relishing in her whines as he tumbles onto his bed with her. He’d affectionately called it their bed once, and he doesn’t know why he doesn’t do it more often. The way she nuzzled her head in his chest, abashed, had him dizzy for a week.

She struggles against him, whining something that goes in one ear and out the other.

“I need to take off my pants, Steve.”

He drops his arms from around her, enthusiastically helping her up so she can peel off her pants. She laughs at him, pushing his hands away when he tries to help.

“Sicko.”

She climbs into bed with him, pants newly gone. They adjust and settle, getting comfortable for the night. Limbs tangle, breathing settles out, loud unapologetic voices calm to whispers, and eyelids droop. He wraps his arms tighter around her, each movement languid.

“I missed you.” Steve murmurs into the darkness of his room. The calm has settled over them like thick blanket, hushing them and tucking their conjoined bodies into sleep. He half isn’t expecting a response.

“I missed you in my sleep.” Her sleepy voice whispers.

He cracks a smile, closing his eyes as her lips press to his chest. “I wasn’t in your dream?”

“You’re in all my dreams.”

“Oh, okay, just checking.”

Her shoulders shake with a short laugh, like sleep is weighing them down too much for anymore movement.

“I’m so tired.” He murmurs again.

“So sleep.”

He’s too embarrassed to tell her he doesn’t want to. That he’s fighting it off so he can have this memory forever. He stares at the ceiling trying to memorize the way his arms feel around her, the way he doesn’t know which leg is his and which is hers, the way he can feel her warm breath fanning across his chest. He wants something to cling to on another lonely night, where she can’t just walk down to his house and make him feel better.

How can you get a memory in a mason jar? How can you wrangle it into Tupperware, or stick it in between book pages like flowers?

He turns towards her, pulling her flush up against his chest, and she lets him, too asleep to fight.

“More comfortable?”

“Mhm.” He grumbles.

He tries to memorize the way the smell of her body wash still hasn’t worn off, how she sighs when he presses a kiss to her hair, the way she hugs his arm close to her.

“Goodnight.”

“G’night, love you.” Her consciousness is fading.

“Love you more.”

[tteokdoroki]

🦊ok, so, I know previously I mentioned being roommates with a bunch of the guys and basically eventually you're just sleeping with all of them cause ya know, that'd be awesome at least imo. Anyway, I know we talked about how you end up in this situation already but, imagine for me if you will.

One day, one of the guys goes to get you cause they're going out to eat or ordering pizza or something. They forget to knock. When they open the door, they see you, laptop open, ring light on, camera going, with what could barely pass for skimpy PJs.

Turns out you're a cam girl but just never told anyone. So you're like 'give me a sec' to your stream and a course people are like, whose there? You never have had a guest. Are they joining.

And you go to you're roommate, (I picture Kirishima who has been apologizing for invading your privacy, yada yada and averting his eyes.

But you say "you either gotta leave or fuck me."

And he takes you up on that. And that slowly turned into you fucking your roommates for fun and work.

—“CAMGIRL + ROOMMATE!KIRISHIMA.”

author’s note(s): this sexy ask ive been waiting to answer for days so here i am let’s get it bby

warning(s): mdni, 18+. smut voyeurism, slight!corruption, switch!kirishima themes, female masturbation, fem!reader.

kirishima felt dumb for not noticing it before, the way you snuck up to your room during movie nights when you thought everyone had fallen asleep or the way your playlists suddenly sounded a little louder in the dead of night. the signs were there, he should have noticed. kaminari had always voiced to your roommates, the other boys, that you’d been up to some shady shit— there’s no way a girl like you could have so much cash despite the small hometown you’d left for college, and all of them seemed to agree...but the red head had defended you.

you were too sweet, too meek and shy to be wrapped up in some bad business, you were the girl who sent freshly baked cookies home to her parents every other weekend and the girl who spent hours tutoring shinsou on a class you didn’t even take. you were too sweet, too meek and shy to be wrapped up in some bad business, you were the girl who sent freshly baked cookies home to her parents every other weekend and the girl who spent hours tutoring shinsou on a class you didn’t even take.

you were too shy, too darling, too precious to do anything that the boys had suggested, no matter how much the thought made eijirou’s cock stir.

but he had been the one to catch you, how stupid he was to have burst into your room without knocking. you’d sat there on your bed, head thrown back into the millions of plushies and throw cushions that you’d owned as the the soft pink toy between your dough like thighs drew sinful patterns against your puffy clit, your free fingers dancing up and down your glistening slit and sinking right into your puckered hole. kirishima had caught you in the act, computer pinging with sounds of donations and all, while you had caught him staring at the way your digits sped up in your slick cunt from being caught.

you don’t dare stop, even as he stumbles over an apology, “y-yn, i’m so sorry—i,” his attempt is futile however, hushed by the sounds of your wetness, dripping and calling out for him.

“oh dear, everyone,” you coo, eyes sultry and never leaving eijirou’s, you pull your fingers from your heat to suck off your own juices in an act that makes the poor man grip the handle to your bedroom door like a vice. you’ve got him— hook, line and sinker and there wasn’t a thing he could do to change that. “looks like we have an unexpected guest, should i invite him in?” the chat on your stream goes wild as you sit up, chest bouncing and causing eijirou to lose his breath. your eyes give him a choice, either he leaves and never mentions this again or he joins you for the chance of a life time.

kirishima certainly wasn’t stupid enough to give up the chance to fuck his sweet little roommate.

they become a regular thing, once a week when everyone seems to have headed to bed, eijirou kirishima guest stars on your secret camshow; your audience loves him and he loves them too, living for the way they feed his ego and tell him how pretty his golden skin is when it’s all marked up and bitten by you or how they’d die for a chance to take a seat on his lengthy cock. but he adores the way you giggle, eyes hazy with tears and desire to while you read through thousands of comments, each and every one telling you how good you both look when you’re sinking down onto his girth, reaching back to squeeze on his balls.

“eiji,” you hum, pussy greedily clamping down on the poor boy while you take your seat in his lap— your freehand twists in red hair, forcing his head up from your tits sucked and bitten raw to look at the comments. “tell them how much you love it when i fuck you like this. you’re so lucky to have me, aren’t you? getting to slide into my tight cunt and cream inside me all you want...so many would kill to be you,”

your eyes burn with a dangerous fire, testing kirishima’s patience— he loves the chase of cat and mouse that you play with him. but he knows that he’s lucky, never did he ever think he’d get a chance to make you scream from pleasure until his name is the only one that you know. the red head gives a thrust of his hips, using his large hands to spread your ass cheeks apart and show the stream how wet you are for him.

“careful sweetheart,” kirishima murmurs, nails digging into the soft curvy flesh— his voice is barley audible underneath the sounds of pinging from the stream. money, enthusiastic comments, subscribers, all of your roommate tunes out to focus on you. he zones in on the tremble of your bottom lip, the gush of your juices between his weighty balls and the way you cling to him, begging him to move before he grinds his dick against your heated walls. “consider yourself the lucky one, look at me keeping your dirty little secret. fucking you good so you can make a little cash, how naughty.”

and there it is, your sweet innocent smile that lays prettily against red bitten lips as you force eijirou to lay flat on the bed. your hips jump up, slamming back down with a wet slap that makes you both grown in unison. “well then, consider us both lucky ei...” you set the pace, revelling in the way your roommates ruby eyes roll back into his head in unadulterated bliss. “make a little cash, put on a show with me, your dirty little secret.”

[smokahuntis]

The girl who wanted a name

Pairing: Javier peña x reader (pt.3)

Warnings: light smut, mirror sex, mentions of death

Summery: Javier ended up at (y/n) more often, having dinner with her in person and becoming close

Authors note: you know what gif goes there...

It’s been a few weeks since she’s learned his name, what he does, where he’s from. All the blanks were filled in and she enjoyed that, because not only were the blanks filled in but so was the silence. While her small apartment was usually filled with silence and sometimes the low rumble of her radio, it was now filled with laughter and voices, sometimes moans and groans, sometimes even snoring.

Javier made her feel something, alive. Like everyday wasn’t just the same boring day over and over again. Instead of watching him rail whores in the window, she was watching him rail her in the vanity mirror. He knew she liked to watch, she always did. It turned him on so much.

That’s how they ended up here, with him balls deep as he took her on all fours. His hands tangled in her hair, making her watch herself get fucked in the mirror. It started with a simple question.

“Did you like when I watched you?” All she asked before everything started going down him and it I the bedroom. He loved when she watched him, it fueled his ego, his need to be seen. This was something he didn’t know he liked until her.

Now most nights are spent with his cock inside her showing her who she belongs to, and in a way showing him who he belongs to. Because ever since that first night he hadn’t been with anyone else. Just her.

Nights before this, when he wasn’t getting intel he would fuck women in his living room just to see her l, just to watch her eyes as she ‘read’ her novella. He was so turned on by her that he had sex for her, not him. He got off inside other women at the thought of her. Who at the time, was a women with no name, just a neighbor.

It didn’t stop him, it just kept building and building until they both were eating each other up like animals. And that was their relationship. Sex, food and sleep. She’s feed him, he’d fuck her, they’d sleep and he’d leave early in the morning, leaving her to a cold bed.

It was even more mystery for her, but as the weeks went on he started coming home and going straight to her place, not his. He had a drawer there now, he had his body wash there, and the shampoo he used. Slowly, he had his life their.

She’s became his life. Everything he wanted and didn’t want was right there, in his hands, on her hips.

He groaned and looked back up at the mirror as he came out of thought, listening to her moan before he grabbed her up and pulled her back against his chest, biting at her skin, her ear and shoulders as he dominated her and watched her cum in the mirror. “Javier!” She was his, he was hers, even if they didn’t say it.

“Fuck- I got you- “ he groaned and kissed the side of her face, pressing her nose against her skin as he did a few last thrusts into her harshly before he finished inside her “ohhh- fuck- (y/n)” he moaned and held onto her tightly as he peaked at them in the mirror. Her eyes were closed and she was leaning into him as she took everything in and relaxed.

It took a moment for them to catch their breath before he laid down with her in the cream colored sheets. He sighed and looked over at her, not detaching from her yet as he wrapped himself up in her.

“Bad day at work?” She asked quietly as she closed her eyes. He sighed into her skin as he kissed her shoulders gently.

“I don’t want to talk about it” he whispered against her neck.

“I’m here if you need me Javier... I want to help you” she whispered back and rolled over, letting him slip from her body as she faced him. She didn’t care about the mess right now she cared about him. “Talk to me...” she watched him stay silent for a moment “why won’t you let me help you...”

“You do enough for me- I don’t want to burden you with this” he whispered looking at her with his Big brown eyes

“Hey- hey...” she moved her hand to his cheek “you’re not a burden...” she whispered “far from it...” she smiled kindly and kissed him sweetly. He smiled against her lips and pulled her into him tightly. He pulled away from the kiss slowly, resting his forehead against hers as he whispered.

“I don’t want to ruin your life by bringing you into mine...” he looked at her with worried eyes as he held her.

“Javier...” she sighed “I...I don’t know how to explain how I feel about you... but... whatever your life is... I want to be apart of it, no matter what” she admitted and caressed his cheek gently. He leaned into her touch and kissed her palm.

“Can I have time to think about it...” he asked softly. She sat up onto her elbow and looked at him.

“You need to think if you want me in your life?-“

“No- I want to think about how to protect you if I bring you into it... I’m not safe and I-... (y/n) if something happened to you I don’t know what I’d do” he sat up and looked at her.

“I can’t loose you” he said

“You won’t loose me” she sat up all the way and face him, holding his face. “Javier... you won’t ever loose me” she whispered and leaned her head against his.

“What if I do...” he whispered leaning into her.

“Then... I died happy” she looked at him “I died being with the person I loved...” she admitted quietly. His ears pricked up and her looked her over.

“You love me?” He asked almost to quick.

“Yea... yea- I love you” she looked at him and ran her fingers threw her hair before she stood up and realized what she said “fuck- I’m sorry javi I just-“

He shut her up, with his lips he kissed her and picked her up. He loved her too, and he wasn’t good with words like that but he had to show her. She moaned in surprise as she held his face and laid back on the bed as he laid them down.

“I love you too” he whispered looking at her. “But I can’t give you what you want...”

“What do I want...” she asked quietly as he pushed her hair back.

“My last name...”

Tag list: @thinemineours s @morgannope e @thisis-theway @onabouteverything @blxwjobsforclones @a-dorin @everythinggeeky @jedi-jesi i @letaliabane @oberynfuckingmartell @read-and-rec

[raendown]

A story for @insaneflowergirl as part of the @madatobigiftexchange! Only took me six days to realize it’s June. A grand improvement over the last couple months. xD

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 4049 Rated: T+ Fandom: Naruto Summary: Trapped together by an avalanche in the middle of a mission, Madara and Tobirama make a passing attempt at dealing with the discovery that they are soulmates. And also the discovery that there is only one bed to share for the night.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Warmth in Winter Hearts

“I don’t suppose if I happened to suggest laying down to rest you might actually listen?” 

“You’re not my mother!”

Tobirama pressed the bridge of his nose tightly between two fingers and breathed slowly. “Gods but I hope not. I have neither the parts nor the patience for that.”

Across the cavern Madara scowled, looking very much like he was only moments away from sticking out his tongue. If he were perfectly honest Tobirama would not have been surprised in the least to see that sort of childish behavior after the emotionally taxing week they’d been going through. Getting put on a mission together was bad enough; they fought like cats and dogs in the tower with separate offices to retreat to, how Hashirama expected them to survive an entire month out here in the wilderness together was a mystery. Yet the worst part had to be getting snowed in separate from the man they were meant to be escorting with no way to make sure the idiot was still alive. 

“When we get out of here,” Madara growled, “I’m going to tear out that asshole’s hair strand by strand.”

“I’m not sure how much of a threat that is.”

“Excuse you, that is a terrifying threat.”

“Not everyone is as attached to their hair as you are,” Tobirama pointed out. 

He was already turning away to build up the meager fire he’d hastily thrown together upon realizing they were trapped in here. Still, he could practically feel the weight of dark eyes glaring at him from across the cave, probably staring at the back of head and judging the hair that he kept short purely for utilitarian purposes. If he hadn’t looked so ridiculous the one time he’d shaved it all off he would just do away with the stuff all together. What good did hair really do him? Not much. If his head got cold he could always throw on a hat. Beyond that he’d never found much of a use for it. 

“Maybe if you took better care of yours then you’d understand.”

“I very much doubt that,” Tobirama murmured under his breath.

The glaring intensified but he refused to take the bait. Feeding the fire and making sure they stayed warm throughout the night was much more important than tending to the quicksilver emotions of a man who, until today, had been nothing but a thorn in his side at every turn. If not for this blasted mission he never would have been anything else. Tobirama closed his eyes and counted his breaths in and out, in and out, slowly, evenly, searching for the calm balance that so many people mistook for unfeeling cold. It hadn’t been so difficult to center himself in years. 

As much as he tried, however, calm remained far beyond his reach. He could keep a placid expression for the idiot across the room but on the inside his emotions were tumbling over each other like a business of ferrets all fighting over the same morsel of food. They were soulmates. Even in his own head that felt strange to admit. So many years spent glaring across the battlefield, several more glaring across council tables and mokuton sturdy desks, only now to discover their connection mere hours before they got themselves trapped inside a system of caves by nothing more than a raging blizzard. Honestly if he weren’t so angry at the timing of it all Tobirama might have been impressed by the sheer volume of snow Mother Nature had seen fit to dump over their heads without warning. More so than the weather he was angry at their client. When he’d told that fool to stay close it had been for his own safety, not to ruffle his overinflated ego without reason. Now he’d trapped himself somewhere else in these caves by dashing off just before an avalanche of snow collapsed over the entrance. Madara had offered to melt through it all but there was little point. There would always be more to come down on top. 

Either their client would be dead of cold in the morning or he wouldn’t. Being here with them wouldn’t do much to change that outcome when he’d already declared that he would rather freeze to death than seek body heat from, in his words, lowly shinobi types. Tobirama would rather lose the income from this mission than let such an asshole touch him after words like that. 

“Ugh.” Behind him Madara sniffed a couple of times. “These smell terrible.”

“Probably because you’re still bleeding inside them.” Tobirama didn’t even need to turn around to know what the other was talking about. He’d wrapped those bandages himself only hours before. 

“I should probably change them. But it’s so cold…”

Standing up to brush the snow from his knees, Tobirama nodded shortly. “Cold indeed. An excellent excuse not to care for your wounds. I’ll be sure to share that one with Izuna when he asks how I could allow you to come home with blood poisoning.” 

A smile flickered across his face when the snuffling turned in to barely muted grumbling, probably a bad mockery of him since that was usually Madara’s last defense against being told to do something he already knew he should have been doing. It only took another minute or two of waiting before heavy footsteps were thumping across the snow-dusted rock to pause just at his back. The hand that shoved itself in to his view looked like some child’s imaginative drawing of a zombie, covered as it was in off-white linen turned black in some places with drying blood. 

“If you’re so worried for me then do something about it yourself!” 

“Use your manners if you want help.”

“Fuck you!” Madara snatched his hand back. When Tobirama looked he was cradling it to his chest with a pout that looked all the more ridiculous than usual when set above a full suit of battle-worn armor. “I’ll just do it myself then!” 

“Will you now?”

A raised eyebrow sent his companion storming off to where they had scraped the snow off a few square feet of ground. Dark mutterings made a lovely background tune as Madara dug through both of their packs trying to find the rest of their medical supplies. When he found them he gave a vicious little noise of triumph and then flopped down on to a nearby rock to pick at the knot on the back of his injured hand. It was hardly the only injury either of them had suffered during the past week of escorting their jittery client through one of the most dangerous sections of the border with Yugakure, just the most serious since it hampered the grip Madara needed on his infamous gunbai. He’d trained himself to use the other hand like most shinobi did but his effectiveness in battle was markedly different when doing so, forcing Tobirama to take point constantly rather than switching out by turns. 

“Don’t forget the ointment,” Tobirama called over helpfully, not bothering to hide a snicker when Madara lifted his head to glare in response. 

“I know that!” 

“Ah so you were leaving it behind in the pack, what, to keep it warm?” 

Madara tore off a strip of bandage and hauled it ineffectually through the air, shouting, “Leave me alone!” 

He should. In truth he really should leave the man alone. Both of them needed a little time to process the discovery of their unexpected connection. Unfortunately Tobirama didn’t have nearly half the interpersonal skills his brother did, he’d never really learned when to leave well enough alone, so instead of giving them both a little space he watched the fluttering bandage until it hit the ground and then lifted his face with a smirk. 

“Very effective. I’m all but shaking in my boots.”

“You will be if you ever let me catch you on the training fields alone!” 

“Go on then, we’re alone right now.”

“Fuck off!” Madara grunted.

Tobirama peeked over his shoulder to make sure the fire wasn’t going to collapse on itself and then turned back to his mission partner. “I don’t think I will. You are literally my only entertainment right now.”

“I am not your entertainment!” 

“No, you’re right. You’re more like a natural disaster that I just can’t help watching. It’s human nature, you know? Like a morbid curiosity.”

Even as he spoke the words he knew he was being an ass but, as he’d said, it wasn’t like there was much else for him to do in this godforsaken cave. He might as well get a few licks in while he still had the energy. Watching Madara’s ears turn red with anger was just as fascinating as it had ever been, though having to force his mind away from examining why he was so fascinated was new. 

“If anyone here is morbid it’s you!”

“Well I’m not denying that.”

“Be more insulted!” Madara screeched. “I hate when you do that!”

Tobirama folded his arms and lifted one hand to tap at his chin. “Do what, pray tell?”

“You’re always so fucking unflappable! Just- just- it isn’t fair! Be...flapped! Or something!”

“Flapped?” He’d never heard anything so ridiculous in his life. It was perfectly reasonable that he should throw his head back and start laughing, thoroughly amused by his companion’s loss for words. Madara didn’t seem to appreciate his reaction but really that wasn’t far out of the ordinary. For the most part Madara had never seemed to appreciate much about him at all and until recently that hadn’t exactly bothered him. 

Right now the only thing flapping was Madara’s jaw as the man tried several times to come up with a response, any response at all. In the end he simply tossed the end of the bandage roll in Tobirama’s direction with lethal force and snatched the closest bedroll, storming off to spread it out across the space kicked free of snow. 

It was a shame to have his entertainment taken away so quickly, even more of a shame to know that if he also tried to bed down right now the only spot to do so would be within range of Madara’s vengeful hands, so Tobirama was left very suddenly with the echoes of his own laughter and little else. The grin on his face turned rapidly in to a scowl. Patient he might be when the situation called for it but he’d never been a fan of keeping the company of his own thoughts. Books were much more pleasant. Much less likely to spiral out of control in to dangerous places or earn him another lecture from his older brother. Not having his library at hand was certainly the worst part of any mission he’d ever taken, filled as they usually were with down time in which he had little to do but plan his next move or stare aimlessly at the surroundings. 

As much as it would probably be more interesting to wander off and explore how far back these caves actually went he didn’t think it was in his best interests to take the chance at getting lost. If nothing else Madara would definitely tell on him when they got back to the village. 

For a minute or so their little cavern was filled with the rustling of Madara settling himself down to sleep, wrenching the blankets off again when he realized he hadn’t put away all the medical supplies, then fussing at them to cover himself a second time. Once he finally settled down for good there was nothing but the sound of the fire crackling merrily away. Sealed off as they were from the rest of the world, the fire was their only source of light. If not for the fact that the caves obviously went pretty deep in to the mountain it would have been a very poor idea indeed to let it keep burning away all their oxygen. Tobirama was grateful he didn’t need to put it out. Aside from giving him something to listen to besides the inside of his own head it also gave him something to look at. Or rather it gave him a bit of light by which to stare off in his partner’s direction, studying the length of Madara's body and the shapes he made under the regulation wool blanket. 

Not a good idea. Definitely not a good idea. Tobirama jerked his eyes away as soon as he realized what he was doing. Better if there had been no fire. He’d rather be blind for lack of light and leave himself at the mercy of the Sharingan for seeing any possible threats than to sit here and stare across the snowy rock like some lovelorn maiden. No matter what discoveries had been made that day they were not some pair of star crossed lovers. There was no need for whatever dramatics his face had just been doing. 

Digging both hands in to his eyes with a sigh, Tobirama decided it was probably best if he just went to sleep too. It was still too early for him to be very tired but falling asleep would at least stop him from following wherever the hell his thoughts had just been trying to go. Somewhere much too thespian for his tastes. He wasn't his brother, after all, there was no need for him to sit here and analyze his feelings or some other such nonsense. If the fire burnt down while they slept and he woke to darkness, well, he did still have Madara with him; just because he was rightfully leery of the Sharingan’s powers didn’t mean he was above taking advantage of them when he needed to. Perhaps a little mean when the man was injured by, hey, he wasn’t the one who could see in the dark and that was hardly his own fault. 

Another sigh caught at the edges of his teeth and slipped out sounding more like a hiss when he pushed himself up on to his feet, striding over towards their packs with careful footsteps. There was no telling what sort of uneven ground could be hiding under all this snow. So far away from the dancing flames his already poor vision was even worse so at first Tobirama assumed that Madara had simply kicked everything out of place while looking for the bandages. It wasn’t until he gathered all of the packs together and dug through every one of them that he realized one very important item was missing. 

His eyes snapped over to the prone figure only feet away. Madara lay stretched out and perfectly still on top of his bed roll. Or, more accurately, the only bedroll. In all the kerfuffle of their client running off and the avalanche trapping them in it appeared they had lost not only some of the food they’d been carrying but also their second sleeping mat. 

If not for the snow on the ground it wouldn’t have been such a big deal. He still had a blanket and it wasn’t like he’d never bedded down for the night without something comfortable to lie on, catching a few hours up a tree whenever he had to and doing so without complaint. The problem was that lying down on frozen rock had only one outcome and with both of them already injured in various ways he certainly couldn’t take the risk of waking up with pneumonia when there was a perfectly viable - if crushingly embarrassing - solution snoozing peacefully right there. He really hoped Madara wasn’t too comfy just yet. 

“What?” his partner snarled when he was nudged lightly with one foot. 

“Shove over,” Tobirama demanded. 

“The fuck? There is literally a whole cave of space, go make your bed somewhere else.”

“Can’t. I have to share your bed so shove over, Uchiha.”

Madara snapped upright so fast they both heard something in his back pop, though neither paid it much attention. “You fucking what now?”

“There appears to be a distinct lack of a second bedroll anywhere so unless you want me sneezing all over your bandages when I inevitably have to change them you will shove the hell over.” Tobirama crossed both arms over his chest like they could hold in all the confusing emotions trying very hard to bubble their way to the surface. 

He wasn’t sure what to think of the way Madara’s jaw hung open wordlessly, couldn’t properly make out the nuances of that expression without more light to see by. Maybe if he weren’t standing at such an angle as to throw the other man in shadow- but to step aside now so he could see better would be to admit how bad his eyes really were and that was a weakness he’d never bothered to share even with his own brother. He settled instead for standing his ground until that rounded jaw snapped shut again for Madara to harrumph loudly. 

“Fucking- are you serious? This is ridiculous! Where did the other bedroll go?”

“Probably lost in the snow somewhere but I would honestly much rather be sleeping right now than trying to guess at things I may never have an answer to. So. Shove. Over. I will not say it again.”

Ignoring Madara’s voice shouting in his ear was as easy as tuning him out, a feat barely comparable to the task of tuning out Hashirama in the middle of high drama. Tobirama untied his armor and set it all aside carefully. By the time he turned back he noticed that, although the screaming hadn’t so much as paused, Madara had gone ahead and moved over a few inches anyway. He did give vent to a few choked noises when Tobirama slid in under the covers with him but it wasn’t difficult to parse out why. Tobirama was still up on one elbow when he paused to examine their situation.

Which way was he supposed to face? They would both be warmer if he faced inwards and curled himself around Madara’s back but such a position felt much too intimate. Facing away from each other would be blessedly less intimate but there wasn’t exactly a whole lot of space on the mat beneath them and it would take only a single shift for one of them to roll away from the other, taking all the blankets with them. Sleeping on his back was generally the way he preferred but, again, space was the main issue. He would have to lay half on the snow to do that. 

“Just...just pick something and go to sleep,” Madara grumbled.

“Eager to cuddle?” Tobirama snapped at him, a response born more of habit than any particular ire. 

“Fuck off!” 

Just for that Tobirama slumped down on to his right side and made sure to curl in as close as possible, grinning viciously to himself as the other man stiffened noticeably. He himself was far from immune to the awkwardness but petty spite had always driven him faster than any care for his own comfort. If Madara hated this then he would lie here awake all night before he rolled over to make them both comfortable. 

It would have been nice, he admitted silently after several minutes, having enough mercy in his soul to relent and just roll over. Tomorrow promised to be an absolute bastard of a day, not least because the task of digging them out of this place would undoubtedly fall mostly on his own shoulders. He definitely could use some rest before tackling that. Instead he lay there with eyes wide open staring at the back of Madara’s head and wondering what reactions he might get if he pulled on some of that bristling hair. Almost as though the man could hear his thoughts Madara curled in to himself a little tighter. The movement was an innocent one. The way it pushed Madara’s rump in to the cradle of Tobirama’s hips was most decidedly not an innocent result even if it was obviously unintentional. 

“Nnngg!?” 

“Very intelligent,” Tobirama breathed, not wanting to speak louder for fear the sudden rush of want running through him might be heard in his voice. 

“That wasn’t- I didn’t- fuck off, Senju!” 

“I will have you know that it is taking all of my energy not to instinctually respond with an implication you would rather I fuck you instead.”

Madara’s screech could probably be heard through the several feet of snow blocking their cave entrance. “It doesn’t count if you still say it you idiot!” 

Yet for all the screaming protests he went on to ring both of their ears with, Madara’s reaction notably lacked one thing. He never once tried to move away. Oh he waved the arm he wasn’t lying on and jawed until Tobirama began to wonder if he wasn’t wearing down the bones of his own skull from overuse but not once did he so much as tilt his hips in to a different position. 

Such telling body language gave Tobirama all the clues he needed to figure out exactly what he’d missed in their earlier conversation. It was possible these types of clues were something he’d been missing in all of their past interactions, body language he never noticed simply because he tried to look at the other man as little as possible. To his shame such a habit had been built entirely on the premise that Madara hated it when people didn’t pay attention to him. From now on he promised himself he would pay closer attention - even if he might not let Madara see such efforts. Just because he was begrudgingly interested didn’t mean he was willing to set that spite down just yet. Some habits took longer to break than others. 

And some would never fade but maybe that was more of a personal failing than anything else. 

“White flag.” The words were out and hanging in the air before Tobirama even realized his mouth had decided to speak before his brain had a proper sentence ready. In front of him Madara stiffened impossibly further. 

“The hell are you on about?”

“I...am waving a white flag. We both need rest. This is, ah, comfortable enough. Let’s just put any further arguments or conversations on hold until tomorrow and go to sleep.” 

Madara seemed to chew that over for a moment until he asked very quietly, “Like this?” 

“I am comfortable if you are.”

He half expected to have the man roll over and deck him in the face for such presumptions. When the silence began to stretch he wondered if he was meant to take it as agreement until he heard very quiet words drift back to caress his ears, a softer sound than he had ever heard from this man in his life. 

“Your arms’ll go numb sleeping like that. Might as well...might as well stretch them out.” 

“Ah. I didn’t presume-”

Tobirama cleared his throat before very carefully shifting back to make room for where both of his arms were folded tightly against Madara’s back. When he stretched one out neither of them said anything about Madara lifting his head to make room for it beneath the pillow they shared. And when he stretched the other out with very delicate movements they both remained utterly silent as he laid it gently across Madara’s waist. 

It was the subtle relaxing of all the muscles pressed up against his front that finally made everything click. Oh but he was a blind man. A very blind man with terrible vision to boot. If anyone asked he was going to blame every misunderstanding on the man in his arms with zero shame. 

Tomorrow they would wake to fight their way past the snow and put in at least a token effort to find their wayward client. Somewhere along the way they would search for the supplies that got lost in the shuffle. But as he closed his eyes Tobirama smiled to realize neither one of them was likely to put a whole lot of work in to finding that second bedroll they had lost, not when it seemed their newly discovered bond was something Madara wanted much more than he’d let on before. 

[partiallyobscure]

otp questions from this post <3 I just went ahead and did them with David and Michael lmao. it’s mostly my usual headcanons with my fic as the backstory but you don’t necessarily need to read it to understand. cw for light nsfw but it’s mostly tame.

Who is the most affectionate?

David is disgustingly affectionate. he lives to make people uncomfortable so he would be the absolute worst perpetrator of PDA. he and Michael have gotten kicked out of too many establishments all because David is constantly letting his hands wander. I don’t even think he’s aware of it at this point lmao

Big spoon/Little spoon?

they bicker about it a lot, but usually in bed, David ends up being the little spoon. he tries to start off being the big spoon but he always wakes up with Michael’s arms around his chest, specifically covering where the holes from the antlers were, even though the scars are long gone by now.

Most common argument?

usually comes down to who/what/where to eat.

Favorite non-sexual activity?

they love doing tons of stuff together, but they really like racing, watching bad sci-fi movies, and going on haunted tours around the country. they’ll really go the extra mile for the ghost tours and get huge cameras to hang around their neck and everything and act all tourist-y. it’s a great time.

Who is most likely to carry the other?

David fusses but Michael carries him around when he can or requests it. he doesn’t like to do it too often though because it always reminds him of that first time he did so, thinking he was carrying David’s dead body in his arms.

What is their favorite feature of their partner's?

Michael’s favorite feature is David’s mouth, especially when it quirks up into his signature smirk, but he can also tell a lot about what David’s feeling from what he’s doing with his mouth. David hates that Michael can read him so easily (even with their shared mental connection) and asks how the fuck he’s able to do that, and Michael always gives an enigmatic smile and swipes his thumb across David’s lips.

David’s favorite is Michael’s eyes. he could lose a whole night just staring into them. he can’t quite place the color, but they remind him of how the sky would look at noon and he gets a rush of nostalgia every time Michael looks at him. whenever they light up like when they’re with Michael’s family or when he’s talking about the coolest bike that he saw in town that day is David’s absolute favorite. and when only his eyes turn amber, before the rest of his face follows to match David’s, David falls a little bit more in love every time.

What's the first thing that changes when they realize they have feelings for the other?

not much changed on David’s end since he was attracted to Michael at first sight. he couldn’t let it show though so he just found excuses to touch Michael whenever he could, passing him the joint and their fingers brushing when Michael took the bottle and catching him when they fell off the bridge.

when Michael realized he started to share those feelings, he was confused at first considering everything that happened between them. he wasn’t sure if he wanted to hit David or hit on David when they first met, so those feelings simmered a bit until he could get to know David beyond their history. he doesn’t fully admit it until he realizes he’s the one David is pursuing and he has the ego boost from this combined with knowing there’s more to David than what he allows people to see.

Nicknames? & if so, how did they originate?

David likes how Michael’s name sounds too much to give him a nickname, but will sometimes hit him with a ‘babe’ just to see him flustered. Michael calls him Davey just to make him mad but especially in public.

Who worries the most?

Michael since he still can’t seem to shake the fact that he doesn’t need to worry anymore about human dangers. he still flinches and looks twice before pulling onto the highway and all. but mostly he still worries about his family and their perception of him and whether or not they see him as a bad person, despite their love and support. and of course, he worries about how he’ll be when the day comes that he gets older than them.

Who remembers what the other one always orders at a restaurant?

David knows Michael’s order all too well and specifically chooses restaurants that have at least fifteen kinds of burgers to choose from.

Michael swears David is making stuff up at this point whenever they go to a sushi place or a Thai place and he chooses something new to try every time. he knows David’s bubble tea order by heart, though.

Who tops?

Michael, but they’ll switch whenever David has had enough of Michael being too gentle with him.

Who initiates kisses?

David, but he’ll usually give Michael a look when he wants a kiss and Michael is happy to oblige. otherwise, since David likes gross PDA, he usually steals a kiss whenever he can.

Who reaches for the other's hand first?

David and it’s usually because he has to pull Michael along after he gets lost in his thoughts, more often than not after they feed.

Who kisses the hardest?

Michael. David nipped at his bottom lip once and that’s all it took for his fangs to come out and sometimes, it gets a little bloody.

Who wakes up first?

Michael. he has to practically drag David out of bed most nights because he’s too comfortable.

Who wants to stay in bed just a little longer?

David as stated above lmao. who knows how long dude was batting it up before he could sleep in a bed again.

Who says I love you first?

Michael and it was out of frustration.

Who tells their family/friends about their relationship first?

there’s no one to tell at first since they were keeping it secret, but Star finds out first and is initially upset, mostly about being lied to. grandpa eventually finds out next and then Sam stumbled across them by accident, so...both of them technically spill the beans together each time lmao

What do their family/friends think of their relationship?

Lucy is supportive and likes David a lot. she knows she should probably resent him for turning Michael, but he really seems like a boy who was in a bad scenario and is making due with what happened to him. she also knows Michael has been a good influence on him and trusts the two of them are doing what they need to to survive. her and David bond over shit talking Max and the best kind of wines.

Sam was understandably skeptical at first, but he and David came to an understanding and they’re cool now. they bond over music and David eventually comes around to really enjoying board games because of Sam, mostly because he wins every single game. Sam even refers to him as his brother-in-law.

Star took longer to come around but she mostly listens whenever Sam tells her what they’re up to. she’s also mostly relieved that she dodged both of those bullets and can live her own life how she wants to now, grateful that the boys gave her an escape and that Michael helped get her human life back.

Who is more likely to start dancing with the other?

both of them suck at dancing, but Michael will spin David every now and then when a cheesy slow song comes on, or Careless Whispers and they both crack up.

Who cooks more/who is better at cooking?

when they’re back spending time with Michael’s family, David is usually the one helping Lucy in the kitchen. he’s chided Michael before about joining in, especially with the big holiday dinners but Michael is always there to lick whatever spoons and bowls clean when they make dessert.

they vow to take a cooking class or two while they’re out on the road but never do.

Who comes up with cheesy pick up lines?

Michael. he usually gets them from Sam.

Who whispers inappropriate things in the other's ear during inappropriate times?

David, 100%. inappropriate times being at all times because of the whole telepathy thing.

Who needs more assurance?

David, that Michael still wants to be with him and doesn’t resent him for turning him. but also Michael that he isn’t a monster and that he’s only doing what he needs to to survive.

What would be their theme song?

SOOOO MANY but just from my drive to work today: Possum Kingdom by the Toadies fits TOO well. Michael by Franz Ferdinand too obviously. I’m curating a playlist for them here at the moment if anyone’s interested lmao

Who would sing to their child back to sleep?

please don’t give these two a child

What do they do when they're away from each other?

they’re not usually too far from each other but David gets a little mopey until he can see Michael again. he’s protective so he doesn’t let Michael too far out of his sight. Michael feels a little part of himself missing when David’s not with him, so he’ll do whatever he needs to do quickly or just take David along with him.

one headcanon about this OTP that breaks your heart:

despite all the time David has had to mourn and grieve, he still misses the other boys every day and sometimes it gets really painful. his only regret in life is not easing Michael into the vampire thing more before turning him, but he was under a time constraint from Max so he didn’t have much of a choice. they still get into shouting matches very rarely about whether or not Michael was the catalyst for the other three’s deaths and David’s very deep, hidden fear is that he’ll never learn how to accept it and one day, his emotions will take him too far and Michael will get sick of his guilt trips.

one headcanon about this OTP that mends it:

Michael does blame himself for David’s grief, because how could he not. he feels like the constant source of David’s sorrow when it comes to the boys but also his ecstatic love and it pulls him in two directions. he listens intently whenever David tells him about his past and his time with the boys and asks what they’d say or do if they were there with them right now, and it continues into the modern era. Michael asks what kind of blog Paul would have (music reviews and fashion), what Marko would name his Instagram account for bird photography (vampigeons), and how many followers Dwayne would get on tiktok for posting thirst traps. David knows Michael cares and is trying to keep the spirit of the lost boys alive.

[whencartoonsruletheworld]

Justice

ao3 link

They weren’t supposed to be here this long. 

Even after they forgot everything else, that thought still lingered in their minds. Too long. We’ve been here too long. There was something, something dangerous about being out too long… we have to go home. 

Where’s home? 

Sometimes at night the eldest would remember a little bit. Never enough to stay come morning, but enough to make him wonder. Hands brushing over his fur, whispers about something of theirs being blocked off, disrespected. “So we’re sending you, and if you do a good job…” There was some kind of promise there, a promise he knew was important but slipped away about twenty years into their imprisonment. But it was important enough that they’d all agreed, and waited for their opportunity to start the mission. They couldn’t get there until a path opened up for them, and it took two of the planet’s years for them to make their way to the right time, the right place, close enough to where the offense occurred that they could finally deliver consequences. 

They got there, and did what they were supposed to do; deliver punishments, not torment. The three of them, they were judges, not criminals. Unfortunately, the hard part came when they couldn’t exactly explain their mission. These people’s small minds couldn’t pick up on it, or maybe some kind of magical block was going on. But that was fine, they could continue messing with them until they figured it out and made it right. And it was easy- they kept getting slighted for the smallest things, so they’d “slight” these people right back. 

Sometimes it wasn’t even intentional, but when they saw people get angry, they figured out how to roll with it. They could roll with anything, really, that was how they were. Sometimes they just wanted to play, spend their time with these people in as fun a way as possible; they were children, after all. But then the people would get angry over nothing, and then the siblings would sigh and roll up their metaphorical sleeves in order to teach them a lesson, as they were meant to do. 

They figured out the rules of this world pretty quickly- comedy was the basis of everything. If something was funny, it could happen, any other physics be damned. Which worked out great for the trickster siblings, especially since so rarely did anything or anyone die, meaning they could keep their mission going as long as necessary. 

It ended up going longer than they wanted, though. Longer than they could have ever wanted. Their kind didn’t like waiting, after all, but then they had no choice. 

It took the humans about a year to find a place that trapped them effectively, and even then, it was a mistake on their part- they didn’t know why this worked and the others didn’t, they just assumed it was luck or a stroke of genius, if they had a big enough ego. But it started with the siblings running, running, running, and then they were mid-air, a net keeping them up, and then they were in a tall tower, a small tower, and they were let out, and they thought this might be a fun new room to play in, like they’d been playing with everyone the last year, and then the door slammed shut. 

They didn’t notice at first, barely cared. They weren’t afraid of closed doors yet. They messed around with each other a little, and then got bored, and then the oldest tried to open the door and found that it was stuck. He pushed more, and then tried to manipulate the rules of this world to get out. He threw himself at the door, threw his brother at the door, pulled a piano out of a bag to throw against it, did dramatic leans and half-hearted witty remarks. But then the hours kept wearing on, and his siblings sat against the wall and asked when the door was going to open, and after what might have been an eternity and might’ve only been a few minutes, he had to admit that it might not. 

That was the thing about time here, while they were trapped. It could’ve been a century, it could’ve been a week. It was no time at all and all the time in the world at the same time. They weren’t of this world, but were trapped inside, had been fitting in with the flow of things. And they were very close, so close, to the way home, but it was just out of reach. Just close enough to mess up everything they tried to do, and just far enough to keep them trapped. 

For a long time, they tried everything to get out. But the saws the middle child tried to use on the floor simply shattered, and the windows the youngest tried to paint wouldn’t open up and let them out. The eldest had been taught, before they left, how to teleport them where they needed to go, but it only worked under certain planetary formations, in certain times. He almost never guessed right, and when he did, they’d be thrown somewhere that was worse- three-hundred years in the past and halfway across the planet, unable to transport again another month, for instance. And then when they’d be able to teleport again, they’d be back in the cage, like no time at all had passed. Maybe it hadn’t, maybe they’d just been dreaming of their last escape. 

Years went by, years and years of the youngest wondering if someone would come to visit and the middle asking why they didn’t have food, shouldn’t someone be feeding them, and the eldest spending nights, while his siblings were asleep, trying to get that door to open. Years passed by, but the children didn’t age, neither mentally nor physically. This wasn’t their world, they wouldn’t grow here. Like a seed, planted in the wrong soil, they’d remain forever underground- or, in this case, high aboveground and unable to break free. 

At some point, he couldn’t remember when, the eldest child tried to make things better. This was all another game, he told his siblings. It was like hide and seek, and eventually the humans would find them and let them out and then they could finish their mission. 

The middle was already forgetting the mission by that point, but he’d never been one for attention to detail, he just liked to have fun, and they’d been having fun the last year. They would have fun, or they’d give misfortune to someone who deserved it. They hadn’t done anything wrong. The eldest must be right, this must be another game. When the humans came, they’d tell them that they didn’t like the game anymore, and they’d whack the ones in charge with a hammer as punishment or something, and then move on. 

The youngest remembered for longer, her mind had always been analytical, more focused. She’d wanted to complete the mission faster, to get back what was theirs and then return home for… she felt like they’d left something behind, sometimes, even after she forgot about home, sometimes in her sleep she’d mumble that they’d forgotten something or someone for so long, too long. 

The eldest tried to keep them distracted, and it took maybe a decade for it to work. Though the universe’s rules would not allow them to escape, it would allow them to fill the tower with what they wanted. If it was funny enough, the youngest could pull a book out of midair to whack her brother with, and then they’d have a book to read. The eldest would complain that they didn’t have a bed, and then the middle would be able to pull a triple bunk out of the wall. They worked around the rules of the universe, worked around their imprisonment to at least make it a bit more like home. Every now and again they’d switch things up- now the tower is a huge trainyard, now it’s got a lot of different rooms, now it’s a dance hall. 

Their hopes of being released, of this all being a mistake or a game, however, got crushed very, very suddenly and horribly. It had been a few years when they were first let out, but there was no giggles of “You’re It!” or “Found you, finally!” or even the most yearned-for “We’re sorry, we’re fixing it.” Instead, the door was thrown open, and they were grabbed and shoved into a net and tossed down the tower, into the arms of a guard, who tossed them into a room. The middle bit a hole in the net so they could escape, and they ran to the office of the man in charge, and told them they were just about done with the tower, thank you very much. The man in charge then just laughed, and they were happy, this was a game after all! 

And then he told them that they made no sense, they didn’t fit with the world, with its people. They couldn’t follow orders, they couldn’t talk to people without scaring them, they couldn’t listen. They were disobedient, they were chaotic, they were broken. Wrong. Different. 

He yelled this for a long time, and the eldest tried to stand tall, to look defiant, so that when the man quieted he could yell back. The middle stared at the wall, then the desk, then the floor, trying to keep his mind on anything else, so he didn’t have to hear that they’d done a bad job, they were here to do a job, they’d been doing it, didn’t this man understand? Or were they the ones who got it wrong? The youngest, meanwhile, started to cry, hiding behind her brothers and burying her face in their arms, shaking and trying to ask if it was true, if they were really hated. They weren’t supposed to be hated. They shouldn’t be hated, they couldn’t be hated… 

The guard came back and managed to grab the middle, and ran off with him, and the siblings had to follow. They wouldn’t leave their brother, not alone, not after they’d only had each other for so long. And so when the middle ended up back in the tower, they ran in after him, and shook as the door slammed again. 

The tower, they realized, had only been opened to be cleaned, so that it didn’t smell, so that the humans weren’t bothered by it. Nobody cared about the siblings in there. Not one person. 

The youngest and middle cried for a very long time, to the point where the tower was filled with water as it once had been. And then the eldest, who himself was feeling like his heart had plummeted into the depths of hell below them, used the universe’s laws again, pulling a raft out of nowhere for them to lay in. 

He hugged them and told them first that this didn’t matter, they weren’t here to make friends, just to make things right. The youngest said that they’d thought they were communicating, though, they’d thought that people were listening to them, were having fun with them! The middle said that there must have been a reason they were hated, it must have been something they did, something unfair and cruel, what had they done to deserve this? The youngest asked why the adults hadn’t just told them they were doing something wrong, the middle asked why this world was so confusing and why their job wasn’t done yet. 

The eldest didn’t have any answers, so he took a deep breath and told them that, okay, this world was a bit… wrong. Clearly the people didn’t even know what they were, what they were dealing with. So when they got out, they’d punish them more. For locking away their judges, mistreating the ones who were there to guide them onto the right path. But even that didn’t work, because his siblings no longer cared about their mission, they just wanted to be free again. 

The middle spoke, then. And though they all forgot the words later, the eldest was still haunted by them, even after he long lost the ability to remember why. 

“Why have we been here so long? Shouldn’t they have come looking for us?”

And once again, there was no answer for him. So the eldest simply smiled and started talking. About anything, nothing- a joke, perhaps, or a story. Just kept talking, kept them distracted. And soon they were asleep, and then the next morning their tears had dried and he had set up a new room for them to play in. To make the best of things. Make the best of things. Make the best of things. Make… 

The forgetting began then. Maybe it was just because of how long they’d been trapped in this world, maybe it was their proximity to freedom denied to them, or maybe it was just a way to protect themselves. To make things a little better, to convince themselves that they wanted to be here, that there was nothing else they had to do, this was home, this was fine, everything was fine.

The youngest, of course, forgot first, and the middle not long after. The eldest hung on as tightly as he could, but after thirty or forty years it slipped from him, too. He remembered a few things, like how to teleport- except they always ended up somewhere strange and then were back in the tower. He remembered, and reminded his siblings, that they didn’t just cause pain, they delivered justice, even as his memories slid and this became less of a job and more of a moral obligation. He remembered the rules of this world, so that he could pull a television out of nowhere once it was invented, in order to discover what was happening in this world, or to entertain them with something, or so that he could change the tower room to keep them from getting bored with their environment. He remembered that the adults were mean, that nobody ever listened to them, and that… they had a job to do? But what was that job? It slipped from him eventually, but he did feel like there was something they had to do. The man in charge said they were supposed to work for the people on whose land they were on, but were they? Maybe? Maybe not? What were they doing here? 

They didn’t just forget their job, they forgot their world, too. About fifteen years in, when the youngest could no longer remember what their old house looked like, how high she could swing on the tree in the backyard, she had sobbed between her brothers until she fell asleep. And then fifteen years after that, she didn’t even remember they had an old world at all. It didn’t take long for that fact to slip from her brothers as well. They spent so long in the tower, in this world, that it was becoming their world. 

Where else did they have to go? Who else did they have to go home to? Who, indeed; the youngest asked one day, “We’re siblings, so where are our parents? The rest of our family?” And the eldest had a flash, a memory of loving hands and soft songs and people like them, who looked and acted like them and knew who they were… and then the flash was gone, and he shrugged, and said that the people who owned the tower seemed to have created them. 

Every now and again they’d be let out while the tower was cleaned again, but they didn’t try to be nice this time, they simply ran, found something to entertain them, someone to grant justice to. But then someone would get them back in the tower, and they’d be alone again. Once, just a few years before the doors failed, they’d literally been sold off for a limited time, dragged away in a net to work until their employers got upset with their chaos and sent them back, back to the tower. By this point, they didn’t even hate the cage anymore, it was the closest thing to home they had. 

And every now and again, a memory of someone lost or left behind would come into the eldest’s memory, during these excursions. When they’d be yelled at for not listening, even though they thought they had been, he’d get another flash, of someone who might’ve been their father or uncle or brother, teaching them to play with a toy while they listened so their mind didn’t wander. Someone would tell them they were strange, and the eldest would put a hand on his sister’s shoulder and remember a woman who might have been a mother or grandmother or cousin putting a hand on his own shoulder, telling him that she understood. He would see his brother flap his hands with excitement, and a voice in his head would say that someone used to do that, too, and would jump up and down with them in the garden when they were excited, flapping their hands as if they were wings. He would see his sister curtsey and introduce herself, a smirk on her face saying that this rude person they’d encountered would be playing with them soon, and he’d feel a familiarity in her announcing that she had a family name- yes, someone had her name before, her names before? But then those thoughts would disappear, and he’d forget again. 

And once they forgot what they were there for, they struggled to make sense of it. Why were they in the tower again? Why were people so mad at them all the time? Why did these people feel like the siblings just weren’t right? No, it must be the people who were wrong, it mustn’t be them… after all, the youngest and middle reasoned, they liked themselves fine, and they liked each other, so they couldn’t be wrong. The eldest, whose self-love would wax and wane, just nodded along, and then told them they were the best siblings in the world and hugged them tight and wouldn’t let go. 

It was about sixty-three years before there was a burst of magic- not much. Not enough to take them home, not when they couldn’t remember or recognize it. But there was a burst of magic, and the tower door opened, and the siblings waited a moment, to see if someone would run in with a net or rope. But then nobody did, and they realized the door was truly open, and they wasted no time in running out. 

They couldn’t remember a mission, a job they had to do. They only remembered this world, what they had learned here, and that the adults didn’t listen. And they remembered their obligation- they were not here to hurt, but to deliver justice. So they’d try to make things better, to play with the humans, to find some fun, to make a friend or two. Occasionally they found someone who understood them, some of the workers around who were pretty close to them- in fact, the siblings had been mistaken for these workers upon their arrival, not that they really noticed- and thus understood them. But these workers were often busy, and would go home at night, and had their own lives to live. The other workers, and the other people living in this world, were either openly hostile or just completely unaware of how to deal with these children. Either way, the siblings couldn’t find someone who’d stay with them. 

They got close a few times- a few people who tolerated them most, but even then, they’d do something they found fun, perhaps with a bit of magic or universe-bending, and then those people would be angry or scared, and then it was back to square one. They seemed to always be stuck at square one. And now they couldn’t even remember why. 

They did remember how alone they felt in the tower, though. So the youngest ran for attention, rushing for validation and demanding that she be respected and adored, asking for others to tell her that she was adorable, she was lovely, she was brilliant, she was good. The middle would eat whatever he could find, remembering how they’d had no food in the tower and one day that door would close and be stuck again and he’d better eat whatever he could while he was out. The eldest would try to talk, to keep the people of the world entertained. If they were entertained, if the world thought he was funny, he wouldn’t be locked away, his siblings wouldn’t be locked away, everything would be fine. They were there to entertain, to have fun, to deliver justice, and… nothing else, right? They’d been created by this world, this was their world, there was nothing else they had to do. Nobody else to go back to. If they had family, they must be gone, or they’d have found them. Someone would have found them. 

They’d even forgotten how close and far freedom was from them. Because the door was no longer stuck, and they had nowhere to go, they’d sleep in the tower still, it was home now, the only home they could remember. So they didn’t know that their goal, their ticket home, was right beneath them, that they’d been sent here because of the tower, and so the fact it was their home now was sort of ironic. They might find it funny if they remembered. 

The tower had been built over their family circle, one of the many circles of the fae. Those were not to be disrespected, to be built over and disrupted. If the tower was destroyed completely, if the pavement ripped up, the circle would open and so would the way home, to the land of the fae who lived between time and space, between worlds, delivering justice with their tricks and twisting words. 

And home was waiting, beneath the tower, wondering why the Warner siblings hadn’t yet returned. How long did time pass on Earth, anyway? Shouldn’t Yakko, Wakko and Dot be home by now? 

They should be home by now. They weren’t supposed to be here this long.

[funkymbtifiction]

I think i’m 97x. in the heart center i feel the ”should do” like a 2 - be more helpful and optimistic. The heart/image is about shame, to not feel shame i know that i think that i need to be helpful and like fun/good for others to be around, if i am like that then it feels safe, like otherwise it feels like i’m not worth being there, like they could just get another one. But when i look at the stems I relate a bit more to this ”4-9: Withdrawn, compassionate, feeling invisible or insignificant, “I’m nothing”” than the 2-9 stem: ”Receptive, helpful, kind, caring, focused on needs of other, forgets self, “nice,” good samaritan, people-focused”. But the feeling like i’m nothing can be just the 9 and i’m withdrawn because of the 9 and not because i have the 4 fix with the 9.

9 cores are very withdrawn in general, you are right. I would go with your inner motivations and what you feel you should do, more than the stems, if you know what those motivations are. If you feel like you SHOULD be... more helpful, cheerful, and good toward others, that's an ego-based image type (2) kicking in. 4s don't feel they SHOULD be anything other than they are. They SHOULD be true to their 4-ness, otherwise it's a betrayal of Self.

9-4s are more self-absorbed than 9-2s, because 2 offsets the 9 tendency to get lost in oneself, but 4 exacerbates it. 2-9 interplay is a sense that I SHOULD be... more receptive, kind, helpful, and not want anything in return. (Feeding into the lie the 2 tells themselves, that other people need things; I don't. I should be above that.)

Would a 972 feel withdrawn? i dont think i look withdrawn to others on the outside but i feel withdrawn more than feels good for me. I feel like if i do have the 7 and 2, it should make me feel less withdrawn and more assertive because they are assertive and social. But on the other hand maybe the 7 and 2 (that want to be loved and assertive with my needs) needs to not be withdrawn and that’s why it feels like i’m more withdrawn than i want to, idk. With withdrawn i kind of also mean not being true to myself and showing myself because i cant if i forget myself, and that’s 9. (Not only forget myself, also it feels like i can’t show myself because of some inborn fear that i dont know what it is yet and it feels so instinctive and idk how i could ever get rid of it, and i dont know how to ever be myself as long as the fear is there so i dont like being 9)

They have 9 inertia combined with a 7 lust for everything in life, to go places, do things, see things. I knew an introvert with a 972 and she was somewhat withdrawn / lost in her own head much of the time (didn't want to connect to people casually, since they'd form dependencies on her -- 7 avoidance, unless they seemed FUN), but she had constant wanderlust. Wanted to go everywhere, do everything, see everything, her entire life was full of necessary chores that would earn her enough money to go on trips, because she didn't want to miss a single thing. If she couldn't travel, she bought things on a whim. Had closets full of clothes, drawers full of makeup, her life was very much about the 'excess' that comes from a strong 7 fix, combined with the guilt-trips of a 2 (I should be more considerate, take better care of people, be less needy, etc). It was interesting to me how isolated she could be (again, not wanting anyone to get dependent on her, because 7 was stronger than 2) and how much of her life was bent toward having a good time. She was also incredibly intolerant of any kind of negativity; that tritype together is the "why can't we all just get along?" tritype. It needs to be rainbows. A bad experience is a lesson learned! They run away from conflict, often literally.

(Why do you assume 972? Is 925 a possibility?)

Is the last fix good to know because they also show some things that motivates you/you are obsessed with doing but that maybe aren’t good for you?

Yeah. I mean, it's good to be aware of ALL the lies you tell yourself, and the last fix is probably the easiest one to mature, since it's optional. As a 2 fixer last, I still feel like I SHOULD answer all of you on a regular basis, but I'm also able to adopt a friend's advice: This isn't the ER. They'll live to see an eventual answer. xD

But i have one more question, should for example a two that wants love try to convince themselves of being loved like they are, or as a 9 try to get rid of the fear of separation, or is that impossible?

Both. Recognize that you needing love is part of who you are, and pay attention to how you try to get it, and don't let fear of separation or conflict keep you stuck in a bad relationship, out of a 2ish self-talk that they "need" me as an excuse for not being more assertive. 9 and 2 play off each other like that. 9 goes "I hate this, and I feel numb when I'm around this person, but leaving them might cause them to yell at me..." and 2 goes, "But they're broken and need you. Who else would put up with this or be their friend? Stay. Be a good person."

[inspiteallthedanger]

I don’t know if this is true but I love this direct level of communication from GM. It’s really too bad none of the other Beatles were able to be that direct with John:

George Martin was infuriated by Lennon Remembers and recalled challenging Lennon on his comments in 1974: “He said, 'Oh Christ, I was stoned out of my fucking mind. You didn't take any notice of that, did you?' I said, 'Well, I did, and it hurt.'"

That quote’s from Doggett (YNGMYM) isn’t it? I can certainly believe GM would say how he felt if given the chance and he deserved to tell John off for that. Although I don’t know that it made him feel all that much better, it’s not exactly an apology is it?

That said, I think John was probably challenged all the time about this sort of thing. I highly doubt Paul or George never said anything about the shit John would say. Like, don’t get me wrong, there were a lot of people who let John do whatever and I’m sure they all let a lot of it wash over them to save a fight. But, we know the group argued and that at least J&G would hold their ground in their ways (I’ve seen less of this with Ringo, but I’m sure he did too). I think this because otherwise a) John wouldn’t respect them and b) you also you get things like the “It’s only me” story. Plus, no one would put up with that sort of thing for over a decade unless there was some level of give and take, especially not the egos in that band.

Obviously this didn’t mean that things were sorted. The difference is between saying something about a specific issue and putting in real boundaries that have consequences.

The issue is that it’s John, he will apologise and then do it again. I’ve certainly read accounts that he was actually more prone to wanting to make up with people (like Paul) than the others were. That’s obviously much easier when you’re living on top of each other, though. He’s very self aware but that didn’t stop him from repeating behaviours.

GB showed they did talk about their issues. Not even just in a “You said that one hurtful thing” way but in a “These are the broader issues that feed into that behaviour and how I personally feel about them”.

The problem was none of them knew how to actually solve the problems once they rooted them out. They were (to an extent) intractable problems that couldn’t have been resolved without a fundamental shifting of relationships. And who knows how that would shake out long term or if it’d even be better. They were growing up and wanted different things from one another, and maybe some of them couldn’t articulate what they wanted, but even had they it probably wouldn’t have saved the band.

Much is made of John ‘checking out’ of the Beatles. Why he did that is not for this post, but I think it’s telling that that’s what caused the shifts that led to the collapse of the band. It wasn’t that he became angry and hard to deal with, it’s that he stopped fighting at all. I think Paul especially relied on John’s control to get things done. Anyway, this isn’t related other than to say that John’s temper or propensity to say mean things were not the underlying issue between any of them. Although, there might be a case that he never really turned it on them full force until after the break up.

So, I’m sure they all got to say their mind to John (probably even about LR) and I’m sure John made some amends in his own way. Enough that they all wanted him around and never cut him off entirely. Perhaps what none of them got, including GM, was any real sense of how much warmth John felt towards them after the breakup. It’s one thing to say someone’s been a prick and another to say, “Do you still love me and what does that mean exactly?” They all knew John didn’t really mean half the shit he came out with on a good day, but they’d lost their ability to get the other side of him. I think in part because John was too scared to show it, for whatever reason (but that’s another post). 

Not sure if this answers what you were getting at, but hope it was interesting enough. Always up for hearing what others think, of course. It’s a nuanced conversation, so I’m sure I’m missing bits.

[tf2-hellhole]

TF2 Mercs with a Fem!S/O who gets super painful period cramps + has a heavy period flow. She's medicated the first 2-3 days, can't move out of bed easily, tries to sleep it off, goes through tampons and heating pads like it's nothing, nauseous from the pain, loss of appetite, doesn't want anyone to bother her, etc. Asks a lot from her boyfriend, like warm cuddles, and is really appreciative of all he does. He is used to this monthly routine of being there for her.

Scout:

From the beginning, Scout knew what to do, because he often had to help his mother get the things she needed for her period. He knows what his S/O needs to feel better, and will absolutely provide for them. Don’t tell anyone that he takes care of them so well, though, he’d be embarrassed if someone knew he did something so “unmasculine”.

Scout low-key keeps his distance from his S/O when he’s not giving them what they need, because he IS SCARED OF THEM doesn’t want to irritate them. But if they ask for cuddles, he’s in their arms in an instant.

He’ll only feed them the stuff his mother would make or buy when she was feeling nauseous, because it’s good for nausea; stuff like crackers or chicken. He gets really anxious if his S/O refuses to eat, to the point that they eat it anyway to make him feel better.

He gets a little stressed during the first few days of their period because of how much pain his S/O is in. He does everything he can; Providing pads or tampons, bringing painkillers, etc, but the fact that they’re still miserable and he can’t do anything about it makes him really worried.

Soldier:

Soldier has absolutely no idea how to take care of his S/O, but he’s confident that he’ll figure it out quickly. He does not.

If they send him to the store to buy tampons or pads, his dumb ass is probably going to bring them adult diapers or something. It’s ridiculous how bad he is at caring for them. He’s going to need a lot of instruction. He’s trying his best tho, and it’s sweet how hard he tries to care for them.

He is able to at least provide painkillers, as he often carries them around to help with all of the stupid, injury-causing stuff he does in his free time.

He’ll stay with his S/O to try to provide for them, at least for the first few days, even if they ask him to please leave them alone.

It takes several months for him to figure out how to properly care for them, but once he does he’s actually very good at it. He’ll provide anything they need without question, and he’ll get what they needs very quickly. He’ll practically wait on them hand and foot, so they’ll never be uncomfortable.

Pyro:

Pyro, bless their little heart, doesn’t know how to help his S/O out at all. They get really worried about their S/O’s health and comfort.

They’ll try very hard to help them in any way they can. Unlike Soldier, they’ll figure it out pretty quickly and will be excellent at providing for them.

If they ask for candy or anything sweet, Pyro can provide it because they already have a huge stash and can probably supply their S/O with anything they wants for days.

Pyro is kinda worried during the first few days, every single time. They know they’ll be fine, but they don’t like seeing their S/O in so much pain/discomfort. They wish they could do more to help them.

Pyro’s not at all salty if their S/O asks them to leave them alone for a little while. They understand that the nausea/pain/hormones can make them just want some time by themself, and Pyro doesn’t mind this at all.

They get super giddy if their S/O asks for cuddles, though. Pyro will practically jump onto them and will stay there as long as they wants them to.

Demo:

Demo doesn’t know the first thing about periods; He was actually worried about their health when they mentioned they were bleeding until they explained it’s normal. He makes plenty of mistakes, but over a few months he gets used to it and knows how to help them out during their period.

He knows they are an adult, so he doesn’t wait on them hand and foot or anything like that, but he’s happy to provide whatever they need. He’s around a little more often in case they need him to do anything to help them out. He does owe them for caring for him when he’s drunk.

He already has tons of painkillers for his morning hangovers, so he can bring them to them in an instant if they ever ask.

Demo’s already a cuddly guy, so he’d always be down for snuggles if his S/O asked for them. He’ll ask if they’d like anything first, like a snack or blanket, and bring it over to them before wrapping his arms around them. He’ll stay there for hours if they want him to.

He knows how some of their symptoms are because of his regular hangovers, but he knows it must be so much worse with all of the bleeding and the cramps.

Heavy:

Even though he doesn’t know too much about periods other than the fact that it’s a female thing, he’s not the type to let his masculinity get in the way of his ability to help his S/O. He’ll go to the store to get pads or tampons, he’ll bring them anything they need, and practically anything else. In his opinion, if a man doesn’t want to look unmasculine by providing for his woman when she’s in such an uncomfortable situation, he’s not masculine at all; He’s a baby with a fragile ego.

He was a little worried the first time he cared for his S/O because he didn’t want to screw anything up. He caught on to it all very quickly, though, and is excellent at caring for the, now.

Heavy will provide cuddles whenever his S/O wants him to. This man’s body is super, super warm, to the point that they can cuddle up to his chest or belly and use him as a heating pad.

He’ll make or buy them whatever they need or want. Pain meds? Pads? A warm shower? A good meal? No matter what they want, they’ll have it in less than an hour. He’s probably the best caregiver out of all the mercs.

Though he wants to stick around with them, he’ll respect them if they ask him to leave. He knows this is a gross, uncomfortable time for them and they might want some time to themself.

Engie:

This sweet little man will give her the best care he can provide. He doesn’t really know anything about periods at first, and it’s a strange thing for him to get used to, but he learns as he goes and within a few months he knows everything he needs to know.

He’ll still focus on his work and spends most of his time in the workshop, be he still makes sure his S/O is comfortable. He gets up every half and hour to check on them and bring them anything they need. If they want to stay near him, he’ll set up a little space for them in his workshop so they can chill in there with him.

Since he’s a good cook, he often cooks for his S/O. If his S/O feels too sick to eat, he doesn’t get upset about it at all. He just wraps up the food and sticks it in the fridge for when they feel a little better.

He might try to encourage his S/O to do some light exercise if their cramps are really bad. He’ll go with them if they want him to, saying he could use a 10-15 minute break. Turns out, without the adrenaline that comes with being in a match, Engie can’t jog very far.

He’ll try to do those abdomen massages that help blood flow and reduce menstrual cramps. He’s not perfect at it, obviously, but it does help a lot. He gives them a massage every night before bed for the first few nights, but he’ll continue doing it if they ask him to.

Medic:

Medic can be a little verbally insensitive towards his S/O during their period, but he’s the best for physically caring for them out of all the mercs because he best understands why and how menstruation happens and how to medicate it’s effects.

It’s funny that he’s so reckless and experimental with the bodies of his teammates, but so careful with the body of his liebling. He’s very physically gentle with them if they’re in a lot of pain and treats them very well (he always treated them well but during menstruation he’s even more careful with them).

He encourages his S/O to try natural cramp-relievers, like exercise, heating pads, and stretches before just drowning the cramps in painkillers. If they say they’re feeling to self-conscious or ill to exercise or stretch, he’ll do the activities with them. The conversations they have with him make the activities tolerable.

If they’re in significant pain or discomfort, though, he’ll offer a bunch of medications to help them feel better. He feels really horrible if all of his efforts fail and they’re still miserable.

Unfortunately, sometimes he’s too busy to provide for them. When he is, he sets them up with everything they could possibly need and apologizes for having to leave. When he is around, he’ll have them come sit in the lab while he continues about his day with them.

Sniper:

Sniper had never even heard of menstruation when his S/O told him they had started their period. Legitimately, he had no idea what it was. His S/O had to explain what happens and why it happens, and then explain what they needed. He’s surprised, but not disgusted, and is willing to do whatever he needs to to help. It takes him quite a few months to figure it all out, but he tries his best.

Unless he’s out working, he will literally wait on his S/O hand and foot. He will make sure they have everything they need when he’s gone and he’ll bring them anything they need. It’s hilarious to watch this grumpy, grumbly assassin bringing his S/O bringing food, tampons/pads, blankets, anything they needs.

He’ll try to take more time out of his day to stay with his S/O and give them company. He will spend some time to cuddle with them in his camper, and loves to lay facing each other so he can rub their back and belly to make them feel better.

But he gets a little sulky if they ask him to leave them alone. He understands that they’re just feeling gross and want some alone time, but he’s a little upset they won’t let him be there for him.

Spy:

In all of the relationships he’s been in, his partners have never asked him for help while on their period. So when his S/O asks him for help this time, he actually feels a little honored that they would trust him enough to tell him about it AND ask for his help.

He makes sure his S/O recieves the best care possible. He buys them expensive, high-quality painkillers, cozy blankets, gourmet food, the whole shebang. It’s honestly a little overkill.

He will set up his S/O overtime they need to do daily stuff. I mean stuff like making their bed for them, setting up a shower for them, stuff like that. You wouldn’t expect him to be so considerate, but he refuses to let them down when they’re depending on him like that.

He’s the merc who cares the least if his S/O asks for him to leave them alone. He knows he sometimes needs some alone time too and understands completely. He asks when they’d like him to come back before stepping out.

He rewards them for being a trooper with lots of kisses and sweet words. He’s not a big cuddler/hugger but he loves to press kisses to their face, neck, arms, and hands. He doesn’t look like it but he can be a real sweetheart.

[authoressofdarkness]

Under the Covers (Chapter 1)

“Do you really think there’s any way I’ll be able to be incognito for any amount of time? Aren’t you worried my ego will feel neglected from going unrecognized so long? Maybe I’ll blow my cover because I’m too desperate for attention.” “You’re not going to be going undercover. You’re going to be assisting our undercover agent.”

AO3 

Someone tell me why I do these things. I swear. Blame @itfeelssogoodmrstark. Now I’ve gotta go work on finals goddamnit-

Narcissistic.

“We need your help, Stark.”

“And why would I help you?”

Self-destructive.

“Because we need you to. And you want these assholes off the street just as bad as we do. You’re the only one in the position to make this mission happen.”

“I’m the only person you consider expendable, you mean. I put myself in danger all the time, so it’s okay for you to do it, too, right?”

Doesn’t play well with others.

“That’s not what I said.”

“And yet that’s what you meant.”

A heavy sigh on the other end. “Hear whatever you’d like, I’m not going to argue with you. I need to know if you’re willing to do this or not, because you’ll need to meet your partner-“

“Partner? I thought I was too volatile to work with others. Besides, Iron Man doesn’t need a partner.”

“Well, we don’t need you as Iron Man. We need you as Tony Stark.”

Compulsive.

“And yet I remember hearing the exact opposite a few months ago. Funny how that works,” he snarks.

“What you do in that tin can isn’t what I need right now. We need something more subtle.”

“Subtle? What about me is subtle? Agent Romanov is the epitome of subtle. Even fooled me. Try her.”

Another sigh, then: “Not that subtle. We need the built-in status and resources that you have as your… distinguished self. That’s key to this mission, as is the partner. Now if you’re gonna ask questions, can you at least come in and debrief in person so I’m not wasting more of all of our time?”

And he has more questions, so he agrees. He’s nothing if not nosy. And it’ll be fun to string Fury along just long enough to get on his nerves even if he decides not to consult on this particular mission.

Consult, of course. That’s his job. He’s too much of a mess to be an Avenger. And that’s fine with him. He likes flying solo, doing things on his own terms, most of the time.

But he has agreed to consult on some cases. Partially because he owes Fury, and he doesn’t like owing people. He’d worked hard to get out of the debt of owing people after everything that happened with Obie. But he couldn’t deny Fury had saved his ass with the whole pallidum poisoning thing. He’d likely have died if left on his own.

And, well, partially because… yeah, maybe he has a bit of a hero complex. But something bothers him too much now about standing off to the side in any serious situation.

And these mutant drugs going around were certainly a serious situation. But he didn’t understand why blasting the drug lord to hell wasn’t going to be enough to handle it.

“So what’s the big idea, Fury?” he asks, a few hours later, as the elder man finally enters the conference room -- where they’d left him waiting for way longer than strictly necessary, he’s sure. “I don’t understand what the big hoopla is. Do you really think there’s any way I’ll be able to be incognito for any amount of time? Aren’t you worried my ego will feel neglected from going unrecognized so long? Maybe I’ll blow my cover because I’m too desperate for attention.” He bats his eyes at him, pulling a mock-sad face.

Fury doesn’t look amused. He drops a file down on the table in front of him. “You’re not going to be going undercover. You’re going to be assisting our undercover agent.”

“I don’t recall agreeing to do anything yet, so careful with all those orders, cyclops.” Tony sits up, dropping the facade in favor of reaching for the file. “What is this?”

“Case overview. Read it.”

“I already know as much about it as you do.” It’s true; he’d already been looking into this particular problem on his own before Fury had contacted him to ask him about consulting. Course, the fact that their interests were overlapping was about the only thing he knew so far, aside from what he’d figured out on his own, but Fury didn’t need to know that.

“Just read it, Stark.”

Tony does. He skims the file, frowning a little as he reads. Maybe they knew a bit more than he did, then.

The head of the operation, from what they could tell, was one Quentin Beck. Or at least, he was the highest part of the food chain that they knew of for now.

He was the man that Tony had landed on, as well. But SHIELD had more on the inner workings than he did. Some of the stock houses, the loading areas, some of the runners involved in the operation. More information about where Beck stayed, what social circles he ran in. He used to be a special effects coordinator, apparently, before he was swept into the life of crime. He had a background in technology and biochemical engineering. Interesting.  

His profile was even more interesting. It looked oddly similar to his, in some ways. Narcissist. Compulsive. Playboy. Doesn’t play well with others. Likes to be the center of attention. Craves power.

“Interesting profile. Let me guess, Romanov wrote it too?” Tony deadpans.

Fury narrows his good eye at him, taking the file back. “Ha-ha. Believe it or not, the similarities in your personalities are part of why we need you.”

“Why? You want me to make friends with him?”

Fury shakes his head. “Beck likes power. He craves attention. He’s smart, he’s sly, and he’s worked years to get to where he is in the food chain. He sees our agents coming from a mile away every time we try to send someone in. He knows who the moles are as soon as they poke their heads out. Two weeks ago, one of our agents went in as a fake buyer and never returned. We can’t afford to keep going like this. We’re getting nothing. We’re losing our people and countless more are dying in the streets because of the shit he’s selling.”

“I still don’t understand what this has to do with me.” Tony tilts his head. “I can’t go undercover. You don’t want me to go undercover, you don’t want me to be friends with him. Am I supposed to be your next buyer? You think he’d buy that? Or do you want me to offer him something? Because I don’t sell weapons anymore, Fury. Not even for you.”

“No weapons. Nothing like that.” Fury pauses. “The long and short is, right now, Beck is untouchable. We can’t get anyone in to get any information and no one is rolling, even the few we’ve managed to get ahold of. He’s funneling his drug money through legitimate businesses, so there’s no proof. He’s covering his tracks well. But he does have one weakness.” Fury pulls a photo out of the file and slaps it on the desk in front of him.

Tony’s eyes drop to it instinctively, and he feels his mouth go dry. It’s a boy -- a pretty boy. Springy, messy curls, Bambi eyes, pouty lips, the whole nine yards. The photo is just a headshot, but he has a feeling that he’s just as lithe and pretty the rest of the way down as he is from the top.

But he’s also young. Obviously young. Mid-twenties, at the most, although he’s struggling to believe that he’s even that old.

He forces himself to swallow, lifting his eyes back to Fury. “Is that his kid?”

Fury barks out a laugh. “No. Not his kid.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Not yet.”

That’s enough to jolt him back to his senses. Tony refocuses, raising an eyebrow. “Yet?” He doesn’t like the sound of this already.

“This is where your similarities come in handy, Stark.” Fury picks up the photo. “Beck has a penchant for pretty young things. Particularly taken pretty young things.”

“That’s sick.”

“That feeds his ego. He likes seducing them. He likes to play sugar daddy for them -- drugs or clothes or money or whatever it is they want in exchange for them making him look good and feel powerful. It’s a game to him. But he only likes high-quality things. The more powerful the men he takes them from, the better.”

“So?”

“So… we need to give him someone powerful to take him from.”

It hits him like a ton of bricks.

This is where your similarities come in handy.

Playboy.

“You can’t be serious. How old is he, twelve? I mean, really-”

“He’s twenty-three-”

“-he’s practically still in diapers. Probably still in school. Forcing him to play lap dog to someone like Beck is just… wrong.”

Fury sighs. “No one is forcing him to do anything, Stark. He knows what’s involved in the mission. I assure you no one will be making him do anything he doesn’t want to do. And he’s not still in diapers. He has a Bachelor’s in Biochemistry and is working on his Master’s.”

Tony blinks. “At twenty-three?”

“It happens. Look at you.”

Look at you.

Yeah, sure, but he’s never met anyone else near close to his level. And look at the amount of emotional damage he sustained from it.

“Fair,” is all he says aloud. “But he’s got so much potential. Surely he’s got better — less dangerous, less dehumanizing — offers. What’s he doing mixed up with SHIELD?”

“That’s for he and I to know and you to not worry about,” Fury says shortly. “All we need from you is to cohabitate and pretend to be together long enough to get Peter inside and for us to see this mission through. Are you going to do it or not?”

“Hold on, back up a sec. Cohabitate? You’re gonna make the poor kid move in with me, too?” Not that he has any qualms about giving the kid a place to live, per se — God knows he has more than enough for both of them. The space, the money, the resources. But that means he actually has to live with him.

He hasn’t had a partner in ages, one night stand or otherwise. Since his capture, he’s plagued by nightmares too much to sleep like a normal person, and letting anyone see the arc reactor or get that close to him, physically, in general is just one big no.

He and Pepper had tried, but there was just too much between them. She had a company to run. He was busy being Iron Man. They had barely seen each other. And when they had seen each other, it was always just… fighting about something or the other. That he was too reckless. That he was too isolated. That he didn’t trust her, that he needed therapy, that the way he lives is unhealthy, that he missed this or that meeting, that he drinks too much, that he just hid too much stuff.  

She wanted to change him, and he couldn’t let her do it. He wasn’t ready. And part of him knows it’s stupid, unsustainable, unhealthy. But he’s not ready to face it all either. He still cares about her, of course, and she’s still the CEO of Stark Industries, and doing a damn good job at it. But the likelihood there’ll ever be a future there is slim to none. He knows that now.

Fury’s voice snaps him back to the present. “It has to look serious, Stark. He can’t just be a fling. Beck won’t take interest in that. We’ve already laid the groundwork for making him move in and making the whole shebang look believable. Now you just need to do your part. Let him stay with you at least a few nights a week, make a few public appearances together, and let him do his job. No one is saying you actually have to sleep with him -- although I admit I hadn’t expected you to seem so turned off from the idea.”

Tony doesn’t dignify that with an answer. “Are you sure this is the only option? Why can’t I just blast him into next week? Or you send Romanov in with her sweet talking to… I don’t know, poison his drink or something?”

Fury sighs. “We need to know what he knows. We need to know more about where the drugs are coming from. How. Why. Who’s involved. Everything. We only get one chance at this, Stark. You know how it works. He’s the highest person we know of that we have a chance of reaching. If he slips away, we’ll have to start over. We lose all our leads. More people die. This could give us everything we need to know. But he has to come to us. And the only way to get him to do that is bait.” He sets the picture back down on the table, jamming his finger into the middle of the kid’s forehead. “He’s fully prepared to do whatever it takes to do so. Are you, hero?”

Hero. It’s not said scathingly, exactly, but it’s clearly a challenge, all the same. A muscle in Tony’s jaw jumps before he forcefully unclenches it, letting out a breath. “So do I get to get his name before he moves in with me, or…?”

Fury smirks. He turns back to face the door he’d come through, raising his voice. “Parker!”

A moment later, the door opens again. This time, it’s the kid from the picture who enters.

He looks even more baby-faced in person. And yeah, he’s definitely just as lithe and gorgeous as Tony had imagined he would be. Great. Good to know.

He approaches the table they’re sitting at with short, fast strides, hands gripping the strap of the duffel bag over his shoulder. He was already packed. They certainly banked on him saying yes, didn’t they?

He comes to a stop beside Fury, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he stands there. “Hi!” he chirrups. “I’m Peter. Peter Parker. Big fan, by the way.”

Aaaand he’s a fanboy too. This just gets better and better.

“Tony Stark. But you knew that, I suppose.” He looks pointedly at Fury. “You’re going to send him undercover? You sure about this?” He just seems so… pure. Happy and outgoing and young and probably way, way too naive to be mixed up with SHIELD’s shenanigans.

“As sure as I was the first three times you asked.” Fury fixes him with one of his looks. “Are you gonna take him home or not?”

Take him home. Like he’s a puppy or something. Jesus.

Though puppy certainly wasn’t what Peter is thinking, if the way his cheeks color slightly is any indication. This kid is going to be the death of him, isn’t he?

“Yeah, I suppose so.” He stands, pushing the thoughts away. “You ready, kid?”

“All set, Mr. Stark.” Peter starts to make his way around the table, and Tony turns towards the door.

“You can’t do that,” Fury says, stopping them both in their tracks. “You’re gonna blow cover before you even establish it.”

Tony turns back to face him, exasperated. “We haven’t even left yet!”

“And you’re calling each other by formalities, walking with six feet of space between you, and letting him carry his own bag. Really, you’re not off to a great start.”

“What do you want me to do, hold his hand and shower him with kisses? We literally just met.”

Fury rolls his eye. “I know this is going to be hard for you, but don’t be so dramatic. You have to act like a normal, healthy couple. You don’t have to make out on the street, but you could walk beside the kid, for God’s sake.”

“I’m not normal or healthy anything. You should know that -- isn’t that what your agent said?”

Fury ignores him, standing up. He looks at Peter. “Better control your boyfriend, kid, before he blows your cover. I’ll call you when we’ve got a place for you to start.” With that, he turns on his heel and leaves.

They both stare at him as he leaves. It’s silent for a long moment before Peter turns around to face him, color still lingering slightly in his cheeks. “So, uh… ready to go, Mr.- uh… Tony?”

“Yeah. Yeah, let’s go, kid.” Tony lets out a breath and heads for the door, but at a slower pace this time, letting Peter fall into step with him. He opens the door for him, then follows him out and leads the way back to his car. This… this is going to be something, but he isn’t sure if fun is the right word for it.

What had he just gotten himself into?

Let me know if you want to be tagged! 

[aizawaskittenwhore]

  𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐮𝐭

words:3.7k

pairing: aizawa x fem!reader

warnings: tw mention of blood, tw mentions of death, mentions of drugs in case you forgot this is a cartel au, murder, swearing, keigo being a cocky lil fucker, sexual harassment towards the end cause yakuza men suck

rating: 18+ cause shit gets real this chapter

a/n: i FINALLY FINISHED IT FUCK YES chapter two mothafuckas!!! i’ve been having so much fun brainstorming everything to come, and here you’re gonna really get a feel for how big this cartel is. player two, f/n l/n, you’re up! <3

all rights reserved ©️aizawaskittenwhore. do not copy, repost, or modify.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨: 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝’𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 ↳ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞

September 13th, 2181

2:56pm

Musutafu, Japan

“Hold the fuck up. This doesn’t make any sense, I mean—these are Pros. Well known and well respected Pros, at that. The hell would they be tryna’ run a fucking cartel for?!?” Ken Takagi (more commonly known as Rock Lock) rubbed the bridge of his nose in confusion, not understanding the motive or correlation. “I mean think about it. These motherfuckers got more money than they know what to do with. Endeavor is a shareholder in goddamn Nintendo, Hawks owns his own fucking agency and line of sports cars, and I could’ve sworn I saw Eraser getting Shinsou fitted for a fucking Cuban on his birthday a few months ago. It’s not like they’re strapped for cash these days.” Ken huffed, the agent’s arms crossed as he leaned back in the conference chair.

In an attempt to try and broaden the range on your current investigation, your department recruited the help of several Pros to provide reinforcements in Japan, the States, and wherever else sales were being made. Going undercover was already plenty dangerous, and going alone was the equivalent of signing your own death warrant. Enlisting the help of Rock Lock, Ryukyu, Miruko, Fatgum, Edgeshot and plenty of others was relatively easy; these were Heroes that had experience with smugglers and narcotics-based operations, so when you’d approached them with the task at hand, they’d happily agreed.

However, some needed more convincing than others.

“Takagi. Think about it. Sure, they may not be living paycheck to paycheck, but look at the timeline.” You state, looking over your shoulder towards the holographic board displaying an interactive timeline of the investigation, including photos, invoices and even audio recordings pulled from surveillance cameras. “Two years ago, we seized a truck containing approximately 78 kilograms of crack cocaine. When we questioned the driver on where he was taking it and where he got it from, he didn’t budge. Luckily for us, the dumbass wasn’t smart enough to avoid a paper trail, leaving the insurance documents in the glove compartment when we’d taken him into custody. The insurance company was under the name “Target Lance”, but after doing some digging on the name we found out the corporation went bankrupt six months before and was eventually bought out by Chevrolet.” Pausing to return to the screen welded to the wall behind you, your hands swiped as you searched for the file reading December 5th, 2178: A live video feed of a towering skyscraper being built, the building’s name reading “Chevrolet Corvette Inc.” as it hovered above tens of stories above each worker.

“But you all haven’t heard the name Chevy in a while right? That’s because two weeks after that building was built, the hundred-million dollar company was bought out by Takami Corporate-”

“-who owns Takami Motors. Which is the brand associated with the Peregrine Speedsters, Hawks’ damned sports car line.” Ken finished for you, brown spheres twinkling in sudden clarity. “Now you’re speaking my language.” You nod, hands waving as you continue to brief the room of Pros.

“The Todoroki and Nintendo console collaboration didn’t happen until about earlier this year, March to be specific. Which is quite convenient..since around that time the price of cocaine per gram stabilized in both America and Japan, rising from $112 to $138 bucks a pop. I’m nobody to speak on looks either, but for as long as we’ve known of him, Eraser has dressed like a depressed college student with insomnia that doesn’t understand the concept of soap or a pair of clippers. Now he’s got his wife in Cartier bracelets and getting his shirts tailored because the collar “doesn’t allow him enough room for his capture weapon”?!? Bullshit.” You huff, stifling a smile as you watch Miruko and Edgeshot snicker in their seats at your...blunt observation.

“It makes sense. Three years ago all our agencies, including those overseas, started cutting our checks down by half. They can barely afford to pay us a quarter of what we used to make, and these guys are making these lavish purchases while we all starve?? No way. Something’s fishy, and it’s damn sure not this takoyaki.” Fatgum spat, hands quivering with rage as he struggled to grasp the food with his chopsticks.

“Fatgum’s right. Hero unemployment is at a staggering 8.7 percent. Meanwhile, these men are spending money like it’s going out of style. It makes no sense.” Miruko pondered, Ryukyu folding her hands in her lap as she voiced her approval for immediate action. Edgeshot nodded in agreement, brows furrowed in frustration at this blatant disregard for the law. “So we’re all in agreement that our own people have resorted to breaking the law. Cool, got it. Question is, why? And what the hell are we gonna do about it?” Ken demanded, his patience having worn thin from all this speculation.

“Good question. I think they’re trying to take advantage of the tough spot the Hero Commission is in right now, manipulate that vulnerability and use it for their own gain. They’re not invulnerable to the tough times Pros are facing in the workforce. So they’ve gotten together to try and make it work for them, even if it means breaking the law.” You query, hands typing furiously at the virtual screen to pull up the files of each Hero, displaying all the current information on them from their blood type to each known family member. “These three banding together though? Along with other people? There’s no way. They hate each other. Or at the very least couldn’t get anything done even if they did have a common goal in mind.” Edgeshot murmured lowly.

“I thought so too. But then it hit me: it’s not just some flimsy group project. Sure, crime has gone up since the formation of this cartel, but nobody who holds any rank has been murdered or harmed in any way. No no no, these guys are singing in tune for now...which means there’s a damn good choir director among them. So I’ve volunteered to go undercover, work my way through this organization and figure out just how high up this goes.” You assert, shoulders rigid and chin aloft as the harnesses of your costume frame your figure.

“Alone?? Are you outta your goddamn mind? Let me go, you’ll need back up-” Rock Lock sputters, hands fanning out in shock.

“No way. What about your wife, your kid?! This isn’t just some average drug bust, we’re dealing with powerful men in possession of superhuman abilities that have the game on lockdown. You’ve got too much to lose, more than any of us anyway. Edgeshot and I will go, we’ve seen the other side of the law before, and our quirks are better suited for stealth should anything go wrong.” You fire, eyes narrowing into slits. “The rest of you will be working in tandem with the DEA and our resources, and we’ll report back to you with all future developments. We’ll also need you to be ready to fight at a moment’s notice, if we need it.”

A thick silence clogged the air, Ken settling back into his seat across the table. His amber eyes flickered in irritation before huffing in acceptance, the situation being out of his hands. All the conference participants’ gazes fixed in determination, some with anger. The tense aura weighed on everyone present before Miruko cleared her throat, ivory teeth gleaming in a smirk.

“Well we’ve got a solid plan. So all I wanna know is...when do we start?

June 2nd, 2182

In all honesty...you thought the nickname was just a sad attempt to stroke his ego. But seeing the way over seventy commercial-size planes and approximately 30 seaplanes sat aloft balmy concrete in the Guadalajara sun showed you exactly why they called Hawks “Lord of The Skies”. Arrays of laborers with avian-oriented quirks loaded kilo after kilo of coke on to each and every plane, some by hand and others by forklift. Welders were personally hand selected by Keigo himself to eliminate the issue of utilizing every available inch of space; each vessel having been stripped of everything from the seats to the built in mini-bars (much to Keigo’s chagrin). From where you stood in the scalding hot beams, the runway seemed to extend for miles as it brimmed with visible heat-waves.

Dressed in a simple black tank top, black biker type shorts, aluminum plated gauntlets, steel toed combat boots and harnesses that encapsulated the curves of your body before coming to a stop at your thighs, you silently rejoiced in the airflow your gear allowed you in spite of the color. The bandanna atop your hairline helped to absorb some of the sweat, which was a bonus.

“Not bad for a starter fleet huh? The wingspan on these babies almost makes me jealous.” A rich and decadent voice called from your left. Sleek carmine appendages and brassy blond hair entered your peripheral vision, giving way to the man who ran the show: Keigo Takami. Adorned in a pair of low rise denim jeans that were so incomprehensibly tight they accentuated every bit of his dick (which was likely intentional), a plain white tee and ebony cowboy boots that looked like they cost three times what you make in a week; he most definitely looked the part of the People Magazine’s “Sexiest Man Alive” and Playboy’s “Player of the Month” titles he’d earned. Luminous olive skin glistened with sweat, droplets sliding down the deep v neck of his shirt with ease; the way the daisy-hued fabric stuck to his crafted abdomen leaving nothing to the imagination. Tourmaline and Argentium piercings dangled effortlessly from both ears, and if you weren’t so hell-bent on putting the motherfucker in jail you would’ve had no problem admitting how attractive he really was.

“Starter fleet? You’re about to put Delta out of business, look at this shit!” You guffaw, arms folded, an eyebrow raised in astonishment at his “humble” admission. “Flattery will get you everywhere, and then some.” Keigo chuckles, breath hot against your ear the instant he bends at the waist, hands settled in his pockets with that cocky aura about him.

“-And having your damn breath against my ear in 107 degree weather will, respectfully, get you my foot up your ass. I didn’t fly down here to get treated like one of your poor interns. I came here to make money, so let’s talk it.” You lash, the climbing tempature slicing your tolerance for bullshit to shreds.

“Shit. Straight to the point huh? I like it. You wanna talk shop, say no more. Over lunch though, I’m starving out here.” Keigo clicks his teeth with a grin, escorting the two of you towards the very jet he’d arrived in. “A little unknown fact about me, usually I hate flying ”conventionally”. Gives me anxiety, and I’m awful company when I’m nervous.”

Settling into the light taupe hued cabin, you observe the not-so-subtle elements of class. Ivory shochu bottles with intricate crystalline glasses to match, the bar fully stocked with gold accents along the upholstery. Plates of costly Kobe style beef rested atop spotless porcelain, romaine lettuce coupled with grilled applewood bacon, chicken, avocado and buttermilk dressing settled into envy-inducing black marble bowls. The plane was spacious, and certainly cost a pretty penny or two. “You’re upfront, so I’ll be honest with you. As of right now, this plane is the last thing I’m worried about-” Hawks mutters lowly, dijon eyelets tapering into thin slivers.

“-It’s the Shie Hassaikai making their encore appearance, and with the Colombians at that.”

You choke on a sip of Vega Sicilia, pupils dilating at the thought. 

“Now you spoke about wanting to make some money, right?” You nod, heart rate steadily rising. 

“What if I could offer you something more? Something of...extensive value.” Keigo drawled, dark undertone flooding the air like a thick smoke.  “Like what, Takami?” You inquire.

“A seat at the table.” He shrugs, like one would if they were discussing something as trivial as ice cream flavors or Friday night plans, not the reorganization of a crime syndicate. “You’ve been workin’ for me shy of a year now right? Somethin’ like that? Anyway..”

He takes a deep, contemplative swig of the chestnut liquid, eyes boring into yours. 

“You’re efficient, and you don’t take anyone’s shit. Good help’s hard to find in our line of work, and before you know it, this little hierarchy is gonna go under some..reorganization. Only the people who aren’t afraid to get their hands dirty will have a place in the new order, so I want you there.”

“What’s the catch? I’m not dumb enough to just assume this is some promotion for busting my ass.” You tread, brain working double-time to try and decipher just what Keigo’s getting at. “Clever girl. It’s a simple task, in and out.” He assures, middle and ring finger sliding a matte-finish photo across the mahogany. Displayed was Kinan Zango, a member of the Shie Hassaikai’s middle rankings shaking hands with Joaquin Fuentes, a Columbia native known for having a body count in the double digits. 

“Another fact about me: Only one thing heightens my anxiety more than planes...people who fuck with my money. This asshole Kinan’s been selling my routes to the fucking Columbians and pocketing the profits, and getting 20% of the product as a little “thank you” when he knows nobody moves coke through the Gulf other than Takami fucking Keigo. He’s becoming a problem, and I don't like those.” Kei growls, left eye twitching minutely. His nails are sinking into the polish of the wood, his energy vehemently furious.

“Take care of this for me, and you’ll be my plus one to Guadalajara tomorrow.”

The general public often made the mistake of writing Keigo off as just your average “pretty boy”. Whereas a trained eye could see that while he may be pretty, he was nobody to be tested. The sheer intellect he possesses to seek, hand-craft each and every route, assign planes to their designated locations along with alternatives should there ever be an issue? He just didn’t get enough credit. 

So he took major offense when someone had the audacity to treat his hard work as though it was theirs.

Besides.. you got a man with looks, money and bloodlust? Tch. You’ve just created a monster.

You weren’t necessarily opposed to the idea of ridding the world of another drug-dealing degenerate, but the idea of casually committing a murder as a DEA agent in a foreign country just didn't sit right with you. Undercover agents weren’t permitted a “license to kill” should the investigation call for it either, so it was between committing a murder as government agent, or declining Keigo’s request and missing out on a front row seat to the cartel’s entire operation.

The silence that followed his sentence was deafening. Ice cubes chimed loftily as they swirled around inside his glass, clear liquid sloshing around while he awaited an answer.

Your jaw sets, eyes piercing into his. 

“Consider it done.”

Blood spattered onto the pale concrete, moonlight illuminating the scarlet hues. Your knuckles throbbed with pain, the sensation blossoming through your hand as your lips curled back in a snarl, vigorously ridding your hands of the other man’s bodily fluids. 

“ If you really think coming after me for that bird brained motherfucker is gonna change anything, you got another thing fucking coming.” Kinan spat, nose steadily flowing with red. His lip was busted, face splotched with yellowing purple bruises. Tugging at his restraints he thrashed, mouth spewing white-hot venom.

“You’re talking a lot of shit for a middle-ranking yakuza who thinks some new coke routes is gonna keep the Hassaikai from dumping your body on the side of some road in Zacatecas.” You observe, sending a harsh kick between the mans ribs, steel toed boots making an audible crack. “The Japanese are like Dixie Cups to them...”‘use em’ once, then throw em’ away”, right? You’re a fool if you think your days aren't numbered once you wear out your welcome.”

“Fuck you. You’re little boy toy threw a temper tantrum, so he sent you to “take care of things”, isn’t that right?” Kinan coos, eyes softening in a mocking pout. 

“Trust me, you're not the first slut Takami’s been sticking it in that he’s sent to kill me. Only difference between you and the rest of those bitches-” He huffs, head craning back against the metal chair to let our a soft breath of laughter. “-is that you’re gonna put up a fight.”

Suddenly his bones began to shift, popping and snapping as his skin began to pool below him; you recoiled in fear watching his body slowly slip from his imprisonment like gelatin exits a mold.

“I’ve got elastic bones kid! Whatever breaks just snaps right back into place.”

Skin stretching and pulling as he regained his original form, legs sprinting towards you. Before you could fire off your Quirk’s sonic blast his grip seized the back of your neck, a blade taking residence just below your left eye; it’s tip pressing uncomfortably into your water line. 

“Now, if you're good, I’ll make it quick. Though I’m known for being pretty... through with my toys.” Kinan leers, a hand slowly slithering down your sides to reach for the muscle of your ass. 

“Go to hell, and die there while you’re at it!” You shout.

Bile creeping into your throat, you seize the momentary shift in energy, generating a small sound wave that sent Kinan a few feet to your left; giving the two of you some distance. Your Quirk allowed you to absorb sound to power-up your physical movements, or send it out in the form of sonic blasts or sound waves, so the louder the sound, the more power it gave you. Readying your fists in anticipation for combat, you silently willed for a sudden disruption in the deafening silence as he rushed back to your rigid body. 

What you didn’t anticipate was that the sudden bang that filled the air, and the lifeless body of Kinan dropping to your feet with a thud, his head...

excavated, for lack of a better word.

“Don’t you know the entire point of having backup while under cover is to... call for backup?” Edgeshot snarked, striding towards you, gun settled back into it’s holster. His foot carelessly nudged the bleeding man before removing a Polaroid camera from his knapsack and snapping a photo of the carnage.

“W-what the fuck?! Look, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful when I say this, but what the absolute fuck did you just do??? We’re government agents, in a foreign country, we can’t just fucking murder these assholes nor do we have the license to-” You sputter, brows arching in frustration.

“This was your ticket into Guadalajara. I just secured you box seats when you were this close to getting stuck in the damned nosebleeds. I believe the correct words you’re looking for are thank you.” Kamihara snaps, shoving the photo into your hand. 

“We’re in a world completely different from our own. It’s forgiveness first, and permission later down here. I don’t like it either...but it’s just the way things are.” He sighs, hanging his head while his shoulders settled like the solar system rested on them. 

“I’ll take care of this. Now take that to Hawks, and don’t you dare fuck it up. Don’t let me have killed this poor asshole in vain.” 

You nod, stepping over Kinan’s body. 

Good riddance.

“Thank you, by the way.” You putter. Kamihara returns the sentiment with a nod, before turning to the corpse before him, phone raised to his ear as he spoke with whoever was on the opposite line, eyes that were once grey now swam with deep scarlet.

“Excellent work! I won’t lie, I had a feeling you were hardcore, but damn, this is some seamless shit! You deserve my praise.” Keigo beams, pearly teeth sparkling in the light of the cabin. Nodding in acceptance you grasped his hand upon his offering, permitting him to escort you towards your respective aircraft.

“Well, a promise is a promise. And if nothing else, I’m most certainly a man of my word. Meet me at this airstrip same time tomorrow, 8am. Pack light, Mexico’s a bitch in the summer, though you already know that.”

“Got it. Pleasure doing business with you, Hawks.”

“Call me Keigo, if you want. I hate all the formal shit, long as we got respect, that's all I need.” He shrugs.

“Understood. See you tomorrow, Keigo.” You affirm, climbing the ladder to your jet, body visibly relaxing at the thought of rest.

“Wait--before you go, I wanted to ask ya. What’s with the whole ancient hieroglyphics tat you got goin on, on your spine? It just looks familiar, is all.” He queries.

Home.

November 12th, 2174.

“Y/N! I found somethin’! It’s this super cool protection rune I found in grandma’s things. Check it out! It wards off all evil, and whoever’s in possession of it can, like, balance their energy with the divine power.”

“You’re such a hippie, I swear to god.” You grin.

“Don’t hate because my chakras are balanced and yours aren’t, bitch.” She grinned, index and thumb coming together to flick your forehead. 

“At least take it with you for your exam, for good luck! Pleaseeeee! I think it’ll really help.” Her doe eyes melting your steely resolve. You could never deny her, those eyes constantly solidifying her role as the younger sister. 

“...Only if you’ll clean my room for me when I come back for Christmas.” You demand, an eyebrow raised in mirth.

“Deal.”

And even though you never did admit it to her, that tiny piece of paper tucked into your bra did more for you during that exam than any late night cram session ever could’ve.

“It’s a protection rune. To ward off all evil energies, spirits and all that shit.” You mutter.

“Hm. Looks like it works, seeing how well tonight panned out for ya. Could use me one, would probably keep old man Todoroki out my fuckin’ hair.” He chuckles, hands releasing from the railing as he threw you a wave.

“But I wouldn’t worry too much about tomorrow, anyway. I got a feeling you’re gonna fit in just fine with us.” He smirked.

Ah.

If only that were true, Keigo.

taglist! : @liliesoftherainmain @therealwalmartjesus

[mortal-kuddles]

Kitana is somewhat possessive once she has someone she cares about. Not in a toxic controlling way, only throwing her status around when it's absolutely serious. She trusts her partner, but that trust was hard earned. It's a struggle for her to trust anyone, so breaking her trust would be a bad idea. If her lover ever wanted to stroke her ego and bring her some comfort however, then firmly shooting down any flirting that comes their way is a good idea. Hearing her lover unabashedly declare themselves to be hers just delights Kitana. In public she’s able to hide how pleased she is, feeling like such gloating is beneath her, but once alone with them Kitana feels far more free to show her appreciation. 

Given her status she isn’t overly free to dote on her partners, making much of their affection fleeting but intense. Dates are a rarity, but even if she can’t dedicate herself to a relationship at all times she doesn’t hesitate to let her lover know what they mean to her. 

In time she learns to carve up her days a bit better, between duties, training and her lover. Eventually even coming to enjoy simply lazing about with them, hand feeding each other small nibbles and talking well into the afternoon with little more than breezy conversation to amuse them. It’s a peace she learns to appreciate. 

Romance, in the softer context her lover offers, is surprisingly new to her. Over the centuries Kitana had slept with other partners, some flings even flickering for years on end but none were allowed much intimacy. Like a good sparring partner they scratched an itch and nothing more, but since finding love she finds herself craving their contact more and more. 

Kitana is usually on top, regardless of her partners gender, since Kitana doesn't enjoy not being in control of herself. When on top it's sometimes all about spoiling her partner, urging them to lay back and relax with a seductive purr. Other times it's entirely about her getting off and she makes sure they know it, sharp moans broken up with praise for how well they serve their Khan. 

If her partner wants to be on top they'd best be willing to wrestle her for it, often literally as their bed is routinely left in disarray. If they put up a good enough fight Kitana will agree to 'indulge' her lover, feigning control to hide how happily she rolled over for them. 

When she's in the mood to let her hair down, be more intimate and even somewhat submissive Kitana becomes very receptive to praise. She's been praised before of course, for her wit, her beauty and quite often for her lethality. Hearing how good she feels, how amazing she's making her lover feel is so different to what she’s used to. It feels nice to be praised for something genuinely good instead of neutral at best.