#to sum it up really though it's been strange working on this for so long.....unfortunate to not get a chance to let it be seen and keep

[peridots-pixiwolf]

[Start ID. A redraw of the official icons of the ten named slugcats from Rain World, arranged in two rows: Survivor, Monk, Hunter, Nightcat, and Gourmand in the first, Artificer, Rivulet, Spearmaster, Saint and Enot/Inv in the second. Each is drawn in roughly the same pose as in the original art and fitted with speculative interpretations of their biology, and the second image is a “dead” version of this. For example, all ten have slug-like rhinophores in place of ears, cuttlefish-like colorful eyes with strangely-shaped pupils, cephalopod-like beak "teeth", expressive barbels or oral tentacles at the corners of mouths, spiny radulas, and the frilly mantle fringes of sea slugs, though otherwise their faces are squishy, simple and mammalian-shaped.

Cream-colored Survivor and yellow Monk both share triangular, bicolored spots matching their eyes (which are tan and brown, and two shades of blue, respectively), small, bumpy fringes, and relatively neutral looks on their faces. Defensive-looking Hunter is mostly a dull orange-pink, though their blobby fringe is a more violent red and their back is purple and marred with lumps. Nightcat is navy blue and flecked with dots of yellow and teal, their rolled rhinophores are a lighter blue, and their shading fractures into stars in some places. Gourmand is almost uniformly tan, their wide, very ruffly white mantle fringe bordered by a spray of white spots, and their beak sticks out from either corner of their smile. Primarily red Artificer, snarling, has yellow markings of multiple sorts, a prominent yellow dewlap and their characteristic dark scar taking out a chunk of its face. Rivulet is a darker blue than usual, with long barbels, red gills and rings, countershading, and a cheerful expression, sticking out their radula. Spearmaster is purple with orange accents, eyes and spots, a large fringe and spines down their back. Saint’s green caryophyllidia are marked by small, yellow diamonds, and their long, thin radula extends far below them. Enot is decorated with mottled red stripes, blue patches, yellow stars, and an uneven and almost cartoonish imitation of blush, though generally the same deep blue as Nightcat, a passive or almost slightly smug look on their face and their rolled rhinophores out to either side.

In the second image, nine of the slugcats’ eyes are crossed out, indicating that these are death icons. They look fairly the same, with mostly expression differences. Survivor is caught in the beginning of a threat display, a karma flower sprouts from Monk’s side, Hunter is burdened with overgrowing, purple and blue rot, Nightcat’s rhinophores are pinned back, and Gourmand looks mildly disheartened. For the final row, Artificer bites its radula between small plumes of smoke, Rivulet drops their expression, Spearmaster looks very startled, Saint looks almost entirely the same besides half-open eyes and their markings greater in number, and Enot grins confusedly. End ID]

If you'll excuse the unusually lengthy ID: the arena meme introduced by @pansear-doodles at long last after a nearly year-long wip status (or, rather, finished a month ago today to honor my own first time playing it!)

Design notes and shout-outs under cut! :]

The following people are some of those who’ve inspired my designs most since I started this eight months ago (or just inspired me to get a little weirder with slugcat biology), among many others for sure, and I thank them for it–but this is simply to bring attention to artists I find cool, and in no way an obligation to interact or anything :]

> @saturncoyote , @carpsoup , @charseraph , @gallusgalluss , @bitsbug , @dopscratch , and @0hmanit (and a special mention to dddeerbo and hunterlonglegs, who’ve since deactivated)!

Survivor: Surprisingly the hardest to pin down the colors for, since nothing with its sibling's palette seemed to match up right (I did have to add in a little blue somewhere for Monk, the beginning of making it clear how much I’m simply going based off of vibes for the colors of scug innards). I consider them, Monk and Gourmand to be part of the same gene pool of slugcats, and even possibly the same colony even if the latter isn't really related, so took a bit of Gourmand's coloring and fit them in with their inspiration: Goniobranchus verrieri. They serve as a bit of an introduction to my ideas of scug traits (i find it really fun how many people have thought to add so many silly sluglike fixtures of biology completely independent of me, buuut here I’m mostly talking about species variation), and like in-game they’re pretty average! They, Monk and Hunter have a couple scars sourced from a piece of Joar's concept art that I'm failing to find, those across the bridge of the nose, under the eyes, and across the rhinophores, respectively, and my Survivor interpretation features many on the back of the neck, as a result of survived lizard bites.

Monk: Their coloring is primarily based off the fact that I associate them with blue fruits, honestly, a bit because I was compelled to establish a familiarity with Rivulet, and lastly inspired by the spots of Goniobranchus kuniei (and geminus, less important to me as one of my characters is a kuniei instead, but more fitting). Between the yellow + blue and the circular marking in the center of their face, they’re meant to bear a little resemblance to an iterator that shares similarities with the characterization I’ve given them, and similar coding of her sibling can be seen on Survivor’s markings around the eyes. As both a “default” slugcat and one whose campaign I haven’t played, though, I can’t say I have much more to point out about em.

Hunter: The whole rot thing made for a really fun time drawing them, and while the color change on their back is a result of this, it’s also an excuse to relate them to Babakina festiva, arguably my favorite sea slug (mostly for sentimental purposes). And to Spearmaster, a fellow messenger slugcat, and it serves as a gradient between Hunter’s pink and the “traditional” color of Rot seen in the DLLs. Aside from their affliction, they’d actually be the plainest in terms of design, as they don’t have any patterns or quirks of body type, just the red + purple and strange lumps + possible malnutrition. I can’t remember if NSH had created them in particular or just...caught + released or something, but it probably wouldn’t be strange for a lab-grown slugcat to be simple like that.

Gourmand: Like the two above, they’re rather plain in terms of coloring and adaptation, and like the two above, I find that fun. I decided it would be nice to avert the “all slugcats being of the same body type, and Gourmand’s out of place as the exception” thing by just...adding more fat to all of them, really. I did want to emphasize their sheer bulk even so, both fat and muscular (not like I couldn’t have still gone further with it, of course, but slugcat anatomy can be a little obfuscating sometimes, and they were intended to look rather plush considering personal size headcanons and therefore the lack of proper gravity), and the thick and flounced mantle looked like a good addition, as per their sea slug Glossodoris hikuerensis. Unlike Survivor and Monk, I didn’t attempt to hold their resemblance to any particular other character (which means a little less to balance out the “default gene pool” thing), so those are all the design notes I have for em.

Artificer: The second slugcat I’ve ever played, or finished the campaign of, my favorite for at least a long time, and the first thing I did was give them yellow accents, the shape of which have troubled me slightly (not quite like the spots or stripes of the others). They’re both a little more appealing and more explosive-looking to me, and considering how early on I played Arti, actually present in some of my older art. It does give them a little resemblance to Saint (completely intentional, two slugcats with strange relations to karma), as well as the fact that its radula is green for familiarity with one of its children (at some point it was going to have all-green markings, even!). I’m generous with their scars, partly because it was fun to overemphasize the one on their face and partly because it does seem like a reckless slugcat, on top of the dangers of its explosive abilities–I’ll probably just keep adding more forever. Mostly-red sea slugs aren’t too common, but Hexabranchus sanguineus works for sure. The ridged, yellow dewlap can expand for combustion purposes, or something along those lines. Arti’s where I began experimenting with a lot of the mildly-offkilter features seen in my interpretation of slugcats, as they’ve once again been a favorite from the start.

Rivulet: I've obviously given other slugcats spots, deeply enjoy the bubbly-soda markings of other peoples' slugcats, and thought seal riv would be cute. Despite not too closely resembling it, they've been government-assigned Hypselodoris bennetti, for color reasons and for a couple sentimental ones. Originally, the colors of every scug were meant to match up with the custom colors I gave them at the beginning of their campaigns, (though Arti, Gourm and Spearmy are the only three who actually apply here, since I've only played through half the slugcats: I gave arti the yellow as mentioned above, gourm brown eyes and spearmy light pink spears, furthered by the outskirts pearl accompanying me and that palette all the way to moon. Tolerance training for eternity in hell cause I already knew about the maroon pearl quest). I initially gave them the colors of the bi flag for fun... but with the limited palette of this image, I was left without pink for a while and decided to see how they'd look in red. I then realized how they now wonderfully matched Moon, and besides, red's a sort of camouflage in deep water! As a side-note, the difference between their eyes and those of others always bothered me a little for anatomical purposes, and the cephalopod eyes were probably influenced by this!

Spearmaster: Inspired as much as possible by @notyourfunnyman ’s wonderful spearmy: designed in a way that helps it fit in with scavengers, at least between the long sensory tentacles, big ruff, back spines and slightly thin/distended anatomy, a form of defensive mimicry. I always had annulate rhinophores in mind, for a little diversity sure, but mostly because the shape reminds me of radio antennae and communication towers (seems fitting for the comms array and being a messenger slugcat)! I started searching for a real-life slug to give them just by looking up their rhinophore shape...and was met immediately and coincidentally with annulate-topped nudibranchs that fit them more perfectly than I could've imagined: Flabellina and surrounding clades, I think Paraflabellina ischitana works very nicely. The orange was completely unplanned, but there wasn’t a place for light pink among the other slugcats’ palettes, and importantly it likens them to both Hunter and Seven Red Suns a little more.

Saint: I am very much a non-furred slugcat enjoyer, with respect to those who aren’t, so figuring out the only visibly furred slugcat was an interesting challenge. I’ve decided that they likely have other, milder adaptations for help in the cold, mainly just more efficient fat storage, and what looks vaguely like fur is instead a bunch of tubercles (called caryophillia, for the second reminder out of three). Their inspiration doesn’t have these, however, Miamira sinuata’s numerous yellow and blue spots (not to mention...whatever’s going on with that shape) and general effect of being the only really green nudibranch I could find were probably perfect for a strange green echo. Not pictured, but their beak-teeth are tiny and flat to make a surface for grinding soft food against with the lack of a functioning radula, which is tipped with a specialized spiny “grapple-hook” for better traction/grip (not to mention the numerous little teeth running down the whole thing).

(Best part of hiding this under a readmore means edits will be seen by all reblogs, I'm mostly sure, because I completely forgot to mention! The spots on their forehead are simple eyes. Their camera eyes appear closed in-game, I like to believe their complex eyesight is rather poor anyways or otherwise reason that they aren't seeing out of those, and while this was far from her REASON for attunement with the world, it does help compensate for mainly viewing it through a canvas of simple light and dark. This, and the fact that their swapped-out "fur" is not only to commit to a lack of hairs but contributes to sensory input!)

Nightcat/Enot: I guess you could say I found the “these two are technically the same person” compelling. (E.g. similar colors, both very strange and enigmatic, and Enot/Inv/Sofanthiel’s remark during the dating sim about getting removed from Arena Mode.) I doubt they’re the only two slugcats in their body, considering humans with DID tend to have more than a few (and I find it very funny that a slugcat bearing resemblance to Nightcat appears in Gourmand’s ending. They’re allowed in the colony and Enot isn’t </3), and I have to credit @faelingdraws ’s art for being what convinced me on it! Their design inspirations come down to trying to balance a few different ideas: making the patterns and palettes of both look oddly similar (special mention to the stars, since those are fun to draw), basing them off of Felimare sechurana and juliae respectively, using blocks of color with the same placement as in Enot’s official art, and specifically making Enot look...biologically reasonable and imperfect, whilst also clearly trying to imitate human displays of emotion (what with...the eyes and blush on that one piece of official art).

Lastly, here’s just a lineup with notes on body shape and size. Most of the nicknames (existing to give a little more space, that’s all) are obvious, and while I can’t remember why I shortened Nightcat to Nox, it is in honor of my friend by the same nickname :]

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Holy crap I’m loving your writing! Im especially obsessed with Ken and the ranch owner

I’m wondering if you’d be willing to do an fem human reader x Ken where the reader gets a bit sick, nothing too serious but Ken absolutely freaks out and thinks the reader is dying or sum (he learned about death from Stero Barbie. Also spiders. He’s terrified of both) and the reader thinks it’s a bit funny so she’s like “yeah I’m dying” but then he gives her the most terrified and sad kicked puppy look and she has to explain that it’s just a cold lol

Awh thank you!! Im glad that ppl still love my barbie movie stuff even though barbie summer has come and gone 💔

........

There were only two things that Ken feared after beginning his new life in the Real World:

One is the mortality of humans, as Barbie told him all about how fragile their lives were and the two paths they were given: either growing old and dying peacefully in their beds, or some terrible occurrence cutting it short long before their time on this earth was up.

The second was spiders.

He especially hated the spiders.

You only recently discovered he had that fear after finding one of those 8-legged critters in your house--or more specifically in his room, where he came barreling out from as though he accidentally set something on fire.

At first, you thought he really did start a fire until he dragged you back into there, begging you to get rid of the "strange beast".

You had no clue what he could possibly be referring to....and then he pointed to the corner, where a little cellar spider sat completely unbothered, weaving its web.

In that moment, you realized you may have turned him arachnophobic, considering you did show him one insect-themed horror movie this past Halloween. He kept freaking out over it potentially growing horse-sized or injecting venom into his bloodstream when he was asleep.

But despite you assuring him neither of those things could happen (and insisting that the spider was more afraid of him), Ken refused to go into the room until it was gone.

You find it hard to fathom that this same doll who led an entire revolt, came to terms with his own identity crisis, and bravely made the transition to humanity....was totally inconsolable in the presence of a tiny bug.

Then again, maybe showing him that movie--and allowing Barbie to explain why arachnophobia was among the top fears humans had--was a huge mistake.

Regardless, you made it your mission to get rid of the critter.

Oddly enough Ken insisted that you didn't actually kill it, but you found you it sweet that he valued its life despite it scaring the shit out of him. So you contained it in a cup, putting a napkin underneath it before releasing it outside.

After that, you mentioned how most people usually killed spiders and other pests that invaded their home.

He looked wildly uncomfortable at that fact, before he began talking about some rather... concerning things: like if the spider knew how short its lifespan was, how easily it could have been crushed, if it feared death or if it was even aware of it at all-

Before he could derail and start rambling about death itself too much, you stopped him, asking if he was feeling alright.

And he went quiet for a moment, before smiling and giving you a kiss, reassuring you he felt better.

Yet even as he left the room, he still appeared awful tense.

It was that day where you worried that it's more than just spiders he feared..

.......

"Babe, what's wrong? Are you sick??"

"...unfortunately, but it's nothing serious. Just a stupid cold I caught at work." Sighing tiredly, you sat up in bed, seeing Ken walk into the room.

He looked nothing short of horrified at how drained and exhausted you sounded this morning. "A-Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I don't want you to catch anything, so I'm sorry...but no kisses today."

"Then..what about tomorrow?"

You just rolled your eyes, drinking some tea you made for yourself. "Maybe, but we'll see if I wake up."

Although it was meant to be a little joke, your foggy brain forgot how seriously the blond often took jokes, and he rushed to your bedside, kneeling down.

His eyes were wide as he took your hand. "If you wake up??? Are you dying??"

Putting down your mug, you sighed once more, trying to figure out a way to remedy this situation before you upset him too much. "No....I mean I just feel like I'm dying, but.." You paused, noticing the tears coming to his eyes. "Ken?"

Now that he was a lot closer, you could see the utterly terrified look on his face--as though you kicked a puppy right in front of him.

Yep, it was already much too late. He was upset.

"I-I know tomorrow is not guaranteed for anyone, but you have to get through this, [y/n]! Please..I can't lose you, too...not when you've done so much to help me." He was extremely close to crying, his lips trembling.

Your heart sunk as you placed a hand ober his own. "Oh honey, I was only kidding around when I say-"

"Why do humans joke about death so much? Don't they know y-you...you can't come back? That they have such short lives?? O-Or sure, some believe you can be reincarnated but that doesn't make it any-"

At this point, he was just blubbering nonsense, so you took him into your arms. And for a moment he fell silent, before burying his face into your chest, trying to calm himself down. "I-I'm sorry.."

"No, no..I'm sorry. You're right..I shouldn't be joking about death around you." Frowning slightly, you stroked his hair. "I promise I'm not dying. Not today, or tomorrow..not for a long, long time. This cold will pass and I'll feel better soon enough."

".....a-are these the irrepressible thoughts of death Barbie had?"

'Oh.'

It finally hit you.

He was going through the same thing she once did.

"Ken.." You had him sit up so you could see his face. Aside from it being a little red and his eyes puffy and watery, there were tear marks trailing down to the stubble that had formed along his jaw and chin. "Why didn't you tell me you were having those thoughts?"

Sniffling, he just shrugged. "I don't know. And... I don't know why I'm thinking them. Barbie could blame it on somebody who was playing with her, but...I can't. Because I'm not a doll anymore, I'm human....a-and...those were my thoughts alone." He shuddered, terrified at that realization. "I guess I just..didn't wanna scare you, b-but obviously it's too late for that..."

A small chuckle came from him, although it dissolved into a small sob as he wiped his eyes. "S-Sorry, I....I want these thoughts to just pass already."

"And they will." You nodded, squeezing his free hand reassuringly. "It looks like you're just experiencing them for the first time, and that's okay. They won't be all you think about. And you don't have to apologize for how you're feeling, as long as you're honest with me."

"Th-Thank you.." He sniffled. "I should be taking care of you, not the other way around. Do you need you anything? More tea? Meds? Anything at all?"

You smiled fondly, leaning forward to kiss him on the forehead. "You're all I need right now, sweetheart."

That response seemed to bring Ken's giddy old self back, as he smiled bashfully in return. He melted back into your arms when you wrapped them around him, and he listened to your heartbeat: the only assurance he needed that you were still living.

Eventually...those thoughts of death did pass him by, and he felt okay again.

[klebald]

it is 🪖 again, I apologize for so many messages I’ve sent in the last hours. Another curse of mine is I get far too excited when I come into contact with people who I claim are similar to myself. It’s most likely due to the lack of human interaction I’ve had in the past 4 years due to a mix of homeschooling and bullying. But, I don’t all hate that curse, being “attached” to another is always interesting.

I’d also like to know how you’re faring with all these anons flooding your inbox. I understand your discomfort, anonymity is a blessing and curse. If it weren’t for anonymity I wouldn’t be sending this, but at the same time it equals in such lewd messages. I personally think they should attempt to make their messages more pleasing to the eye.

Back into the topic of dissection: though it maybe weird to admit to someone I want to impress, I enjoy to work with roadkill and other unfortunate animals. I live in the ‘sticks’ or more specifically near a bayou, and with that comes the discarded bodies of the dead. I also happen to live 15 minutes from a highway, again another place where the bodies of the innocent are left to rot. I’ll take smaller animals, usually that have been dead for a week or so, bring them home and wait for them to decompose. There are times where I can set them in the sun and sometimes I have strip and bleach everything myself. I have many dry and wet specimens that I’ve found or bought. Though I’d like to add I’ve never hurt a living animal, I have far more empathy for animals than humans.

Currently I’m working on cleaning Deer bones and a Catfish skeleton, I’d send photos but the restrictions for anons hold me from that. Maybe eventually I’ll trade my anonymity to show off my collections? I'm also fond of feathers, I probably have hundreds in my collection same with minerals.

Again my dearest sovereign id like to apologize for so many messages sent to your inbox, you are so very tempting so it’s difficult for me to hold back.

-🪖

🪖 anon! You have my sincerest apologies considering how long I had let this rot in my inbox. You must be shivering and freezing by now. Please, be the furthest thing from sorry for the amount of messages that you've left! I have enjoyed them all plenty, you are an interesting individual to speak to. Our conversations hold my attention remarkably, and the "flaw" of overexcitement when relating to somebody we deem as wothy is something, due to intense social isolation, that I greatly resonate with, possibly unfortunately. The fixations on others do tend to be a place of fascination! With the amount of people who had been flooding my inbox, I would like to say that I've made out well. Albeit, I wasn't using Tumblr the entirety of yesterday, so I racked up a larger sum of asks than I would have liked to have left unanswered, but other than that, all has been well. There have been a few particularly interesting conversations that have taken place. With that, there have been the strange people, nevertheless, that's a matter of me making myself laugh at how many people want to yearn for Klebald when provided with anonymity. It is absurd. I am a fucking loser! I just "speak eloquently", I suppose, and people like that. If anybody would ever really want my attention, they should put effort into their requests and maybe then I would react strongly in comparison to when I receive fifteen asks all saying "rape me" or "I want to masturbate to you". It gets old quickly, effort is memorable. Though that con has presented itself to me, there have been more objective positives, such as this, so I leave the opportunity available. Whether you do at some point step outside of the cloak that is anonymity or not is entirely up to your own volition, just know that I enjoy our interactions, private or otherwise. Truthful captivation. I would also like to mention that, with your desire to impress me, what you had said about dissection accomplished just that precisely. If I walked about an hour down the highway, I would happen upon similar amount of animal carcasses, and you do just what I wish that I could in my freetime in your circumstances. I have mentioned the want to examine and dismantle the bodies of small animals to others before, unsurpisingly morbid, we are mutually interested in dissection as said before, though I live in an incredibly small apartment with my relatives. The process is at best, unrealistic when I don't have a single supply I would need and the risk is as high as it is. Consider me envious, just as I am amazed! You put the details of it all into words so greatly that it gives me a taste of what I would like to do, perhaps if I am ever left here alone again for a week or so I may see to it. Alonetime allows me freedom. Discussing the process is something you obviously hold skill in, just as I would guess you to while actually getting your hands dirty, meaning that if you would like to tell any more, you have my word on complete attentiveness. What else have you worked on in the past? Do you care for proper taxidermy? I wonder all of that, and more, the same as you explain yourself. I am also far more empathetic (I would like to believe, anyhow) for most animals than I am human beings, that doesn't make it any less difficult to not be interested in what is inside of them. You seem to understand that idea well. I would like to start with a bird, or some medium-sized rodent, if I could ever find either. If you would ever find yourself strucken with enough courage to come off of anonymous, despite admitting to your "taboo" interest, I would love to see. Firsthand photos of the process would be quite the treat, and a deer carcass cared for so intensely is not an easy fair. The feathers would also be of interest! They are still parts of an animal, after all. I am doubling down on how unapologetic I wish for you to be in sending as much as you did. I appreciate it greatly, and getting to "listen" as I have been is pleasant. My interest has been more than piqued by you, 🪖. Come back as you wish to.

[independentzaun]

Strange encounters

starter for @caecusmedicus with my test muse Alexis.

It was going to be another one of “those” days it seemed. Unfortunate as they were starting to run out of medical supplies, but at least thread and needles were cheap to get. Although more thread, and needles meant less money for food. All the same it wasn’t as though they could just ignore the wound, and it had to be fixed up before the injection from their implant ran out. Their glasses were placed to one side on top of their coat that was resting on top of dumpster which gave them a good, and relatively clean spot to rest their arm. Alexis' shirt sleeve was pushed all the way up to their shoulder, and they were presently in the middle of sewing up a long gash that looked like it’d been made with a large blade that went from shoulder down to their elbow.

Strangely there was no look of pain at all on their face as the needle went in, and out, in, and out steadily moving down their skin. Each puncture of the needle through their flesh should have gotten some reaction as the open wound far too wide for a bandage slowly closed. However Alexis simply hummed softly to themselves. “Mmmhmmm….mmm….in, out, in out...needle goes in, out, in out. Mmmmhmmm…. I really need to actually talk to someone else today. Humming strange songs as you sew yourself up, come on now…” Voice a soft mutter it held that tone of someone who was used to working alone, and had done it for so long they talked to themselves just out of habit.

Suddenly feeling someone else in the alleyway with them Alexis glanced over raising their eyes to see the rather tall, and odd looking man. Blinking once or twice Alexis sighed. “If you are going to try to rob me I really don’t have anything worth while. If you need a bandage, or something I’ll just give it to you.” There was no fear at all in the very androgynous looking person’s voice. Shirt buttoned up and tight to them one might think they had a masculine chest, but it was just as possible they had simply used a binder while their face had a bit of a feminine appearance despite the haircut that took away from that. Around five foot seven, dark hair going down to their neck and over their ears, and unflinching eyes gave them a strangely attractive but nondescript appearance that could be largely summed up as… maybe. If anything stood out it was that their features had a slight Ionian cast to them.

The stitches in their arm were as expertly done as any doctor could hope for, and their eyes currently held just a faint gleam of a soft cool pink with enough purple to show there was Shimmer in their system but there was something else as well. Waiting for a moment they glanced back to their arm slipping the needle through their skin once more. “And if you aren’t going to try to rob me, is there something I can help you with?” Even now their voice was still entirely too casual, and there was no tension or break in breath or voice to indicate they were feeling any pain at all.

[girlmeetsliv3]

Cruel Liaisons

~~ Previously Lingerlust ~~

A/B/O!MiniMoni x Reader; Poly BTS

“When one strikes the heart of another they seldom miss, and the wound is invariably fatal.”

Release Date: May 7th, 2021 @ 12:15 p.m. (GMT-5)

Apologies for the late update. Hope you enjoy it.

Trigger Warnings: blood and gore.

February 2nd, 2022

           “Please state your name for the record.”

           “Jeon YN.” YN stared at the recording machine in front of her, it looked antiquated like the type that wasn’t automatically connected to a cloud or storage system. “Those types have to be manually saved. Which can come in handy.” The officer’s cleared their throats, drawing back YN’s attention. What were their names again? “We need you to state your sub-gender as well.” The one on the left spoke lowly, his voice coming out a bit tense and nervous. “Beta.” When YN tried to smell them, she noticed both were wearing scent blockers, though her sense of smell was never her strong suit.

           “This is officer Park Sooyoung and officer Kim Jisoo.” The taller one stated, her tone dull, as if she rather be anywhere else. Judging by the bags under her eyes and the large cup of coffee in front of her – a bed seemed to be her choice. Officer Kim reached to the ground and placed a file on the desk, she opened it to reveal a series of photographs; five to be precise. Males and females from around a same age group are placed with one female in the center, she looks strangely familiar to YN. The rounded tip of her nose and arched brows but she can’t quite place the face. There is someone YN does recognize though, a face she saw just a few days ago.

           “Anyone you recognize?” Officer Kim asks, her tone is serious but airy. The smile on her face after every sentence lets YN know that she’s the ‘good cop.’

           YN points at the second photo from the left, “Him. I saw him in a missing persons ad on the news, but he didn’t look this old.” They had likely picked a picture from when he was younger, the man on the news held a bright smile. His jawline sharp and his cheekbones high but not defined. The man in the photograph in front of her had a pronounced jawline, hollow cheeks, and an ugly scowl that did nothing to mar his features. ‘K.T’ read the bottom.

           “What news channel and around what time?”

           “KBS, maybe late evening. I watch it before I go to sleep.”

Both officers nod, as Park shifts around on her seat. Now facing directly at YN, resting both elbows on the metal table. “Are you aware of the reason you were brought into the station today?” Officer Kim jumps in before YN can answer, “Just so you know you aren’t being charged with anything.”

Yes. “No, I don’t know.” She shrugged, keeping her eyes level and gaze neither too intense nor too bored.

“You’re here due to your affiliation with Alpha’s Kim Namjoon and Park Jimin,” Park spoke, “They’re your employers, correct?” There was an edge to her voice that YN recognized. Many people weren’t fond of them – many had a reason not to be.

“Yes.” YN nods.

“How long have you worked for them?” Kim asks.

YN notes how neither women are writing anything down, nor looking towards the one-sided mirror behind them. Are they perhaps recording this with a second device? If that’s the case it's not just her voice YN must be cautious of, but her expressions as well. “Around nine months, I’m their housekeeper and take care of Hyunwoo.” After a bit of silence from the police, she elaborates more, “I cook, clean, and help the child with his homework.”

“That’s quite a lot for just one person. Especially considering you have little background in those areas before you were hired, correct?”

They’re trying to bait me. “I’m used to doing those things at home.” YN shrugs, she can see the growing frown on Park’s features.

“How exactly did you hear about the job?” Kim leans forward, but one of her hands drops below the table. Park’s eyes dart over to her partner for a second, but YN catches it. Kim likely gave her a signal or something like a reassuring squeeze, YN hopes it’s the latter. “What was the hiring process like?”

“From an acquaintance Dr. Sihyuk.” Both officers nod along, they don’t seem to recognize the name. “Bang’s dead. Unlikely anyone will find something there.” They always knew to cover their bases. “Um, normal, I guess. I sent in an application and then had an interview.”

“You made a lot of money as the Kim’s housekeeper. Did you never ask yourself where that money was coming from?” It seemed the officers were done trying to be subtle.

“No, it wasn’t my place. Plus, most of the money I earned went into paying family debts.”

“Do you know Kim Namjoon’s or Park Jimin’s source of income?”

“Again no. I just did what I was supposed to do.”

“You never thought to ask?”

“No.”

Sooyoung smirks, “Interesting how everyone around the Kim’s just accepts things at face value. Their co-workers, drivers, bodyguards, even their housekeeper just does what their told. You weren’t even a little bit curious as to how they could possibly afford the lifestyle they have?”

“Curiosity killed the cat.” YN’s arms were clenching around the chair, trying to hold herself back from reacting negatively to the hassling.

“But we aren’t cats.” Sooyoung remarks and for a second YN feels like she’s lost a battle. Jisoo points to the picture in the center, it's a beautiful young woman with flowy hair and a bright smile. Her delicate features give away her omega nature. Though the closer YN inspects the picture, they’re bags under her eyes, permanent frown lines etched onto her face, a hollowness to her eyes. She looks somewhere between life and death. “Do you recognize this woman? You lingered on her a bit longer than the rest of them.”

The longer YN stares at her the more she starts to piece things together, but it still feels like she’s missing something. So she gives a generic answer. “She looks kind of familiar. Has that kind of face.”

“What kind of face?” Jisoo questions.

“Like…pretty, popular, all over billboards kind of face.”

It's enough to satisfy them for now. They slowly start removing all the pictures while leaving only the woman’s, the longer YN sees it the more unnerved she becomes. Her head begins to hurt as another migraine begins to pound at her temples. Creating a sort of hazy fog over YN’s mind. Both officers’ then hold up the picture and flip it revealing a picture of the same woman holding a young child wrapped in blankets. She looks so much happier, so full of life. Instantly YN places her, recognizing the toddler wrapped in blue velvet.

“This is Hyunwoo’s mother. The last time anyone saw her alive was three weeks ago when she just so happened to be having dinner with your employers.” Fuck.

Present

           YN’s phone dings as another text from Mark appears on her screen: ‘boss wants to know when you’ll start paying?’ She groans exhaustedly, responding with ‘I have been paying. He gets half my salary every week.’ Which hasn’t made living very comfortable for YN, but she makes do with what she can.

           Mark: It’s not enough princess, not with the way daddy’s been spending money.

           Me: What am I supposed to do if you keep giving him money?!

           Mark: That’s not up to me. So, the money?

           Me: I’m looking for a second job. One that pays better.

           Mark: Just go sell your eggs or something. Not like you have any use for them.

           “Asshole.” YN muttered, muting her notifications. She looked up to the entrance of the fertility clinic debating whether or not to go in. It wasn’t like she had much of an option; she needed the money and fertility clinics were the only ones willing to provide big sums of money fast. Not to mention she had missed a day of work to make the appointment, which meant less money to give to Mark. I hate this. I hate this so much. YN was about to walk away, leave everything when she spotted a black BMW parked on the curve. Its driver observing her intensely. She knew what it meant.

           Mark was getting pushy. Meaning his boss was getting pushy and YN didn’t need to be on the bad side of some loan shark – not again. So, she mustered up the courage and opened the glass doors, being hit with the smell of lavender and pheromones. It reeks. Nonetheless, she forced a smile on her face and walked towards the front desk. “Hello, I have an appointment with Dr. Sihyuk.”

 “Unfortunately, there is a limit to how many eggs we can safely remove from you. Betas aren’t like omegas, you have a set number of eggs. Removing the majority of them would leave you infertile. We’d also be unsure of whether the eggs are useful or not without running the proper examinations which can take weeks.” Dr. Sihyuk explained as he went over YN’s medical file, each sentence uttered destroying her hope little by little.

“I understand but I am quite fertile. I carry a recessive gene from my father who is an omega. Not to mention I’m not interested in having children so I would have no use for my eggs,” she could sense the doctor’s hesitation, “unlike someone who might benefit from them.” I just really need the money.

“Oh, I know, you betas are lucky in that sense. Don’t have to worry about population growth.” Though it was said jokingly it still made YN uncomfortable, let her know he wasn’t buying her bullshit. The doctor closed the file, “Why exactly are you interested in donating your eggs? Is it for the money?” He saw right through her.  At her silence the doctor sighs, “We get one of you every once in a while. Always wrapped up in some business started by a family member or mistakes you’ve made.” Sihyuk opens a file cabinet beside him and shoves her file in there, “Unfortunately for you there’s no market for beta eggs.”

YN sags exhaustion and fear taking over her, “I –” Sihyuk takes a small white business card out of the cabinet holding it out towards her. “Fortunately for you, I happen to know someone hiring. They specified only betas applied.” Hesitantly YN takes the card, “What kind of job?” Though she knows one should never look a gift horse in the mouth it feels to good to be true. “A housekeeper for an alpha couple. They’re long-time associates of mine. Give them a call you won’t regret it.”

 Evening of June 20th, 2021

           Hyunwoo wouldn’t stop crying. YN truly regretted feeding him chocolate before bed, he had nightmares that had not let the three-year-old rest. Though YN had time and time again reassured them there were no monsters under his bed or strange men coming to take him at night, he wouldn’t hear of it. Insisted she had stayed in bed with him and when that didn’t work cried out for his daddies. The issue being his daddies were currently busy, in the middle of their ruts with their weekly guests. Thankfully, their bedroom was across the apartment from Hyunwoo’s, or else she’d have to explain to the child that the screams being heard didn’t belong to ghost.

           “I want papa! I want daddy!” Hyunwoo shrieked, snot and tears dribbling down his face. At this rate, he’d get himself sick if he didn’t permanently injure his vocal cords – or her hearing.

           “I know. I know, but they’re busy right now. I can go get them later.” When their guests are gone and they’ve cleaned their bedroom. YN never quite knew how they manage to sneak them out and clean up so fast, but she didn’t question it. Less work for me.

           “NO! I want them now!” Hyunwoo bolted towards the door, his little legs running as fast as they could. Though they couldn’t compare to YN’s.

           She hugged the toddler, “Alright. I’ll go get your daddies but you have to promise me you’ll wait in bed.” Hyunwoo began to shake his head, “Come on Woowoo, imagine what they’ll say if they hear you threw a tantrum. What would daddies say?”

           That seemed to sober him up a bit, “They would be disappointed.”

           “Exactly,” YN led him back to bed, gently tucking him in. “I’ll be right back with them soon, okay?”

             The hallway felt eerily long as YN struggled with how to politely interrupt without being subjected to the alpha’s rages. Ruts were an especially tricky time and there would be very little she could do to protect herself if it took a turn for the worse. Not to mention she was breaking one of the very few rules set by them: no bothering us after nine pm. YN glanced at her watch, it was currently 11:43 pm. I am so going to lose my job. But Hyunwoo needed his parents, and she didn’t want to risk the toddler running into their bedroom and being witness to something that would certainly cause trauma. Not to mention I might get sent his therapy bills. More debt. YN reached their bedroom doors. A light red hue leaking from the bottom, she willed all her courage and knocked.

           “Come in, darling.” Jimin spoke, his dulcet tone sounding a little rougher than normal. Surprisingly the door was unlocked, so YN opened it. At first, she saw nothing out of the ordinary, just Kim Namjoon and Park Jimin laying in their bed. The red silk sheets, she so often had to wash, concealing their more intimate parts. It wasn’t until YN noticed the stains covering their bodies and the walls. It caused her eyes to dance around the room until she landed on what had caused such a mess: the two dismembered bodies lying on the floor. The red lighting of the room serving to conceal what the stains truly were: blood.

           Namjoon beckoned her inside with a wave of his hand and YN felt obliged to obey. She could still smell the pheromones in their air, still feel their rut. Not to mention, Hyunwoo might have been following her. She locked the door behind her.

           “To what do we owe the pleasure?” Namjoon spoke, smirking and showing off his blood-stained pearly teeth.

[sinner-as-saint]

Power Over Me - 3.

Bucky Barnes x Reader AU

Previous Parts.

Run-through: CEO James Buchanan Barnes is a dominant. And he’s spent the last 5 years searching for his perfect submissive. Then one night, he finds you. He thinks everything will fall perfectly into place now; but he thought wrong. Turns out your unfortunate past which still haunts you to this day, and some of his enemies are, well, connected. Things go wrong. And your bond with your dom is tested in many ways…

Themes throughout the series: dom/sub dynamic, smut, dirty talk, angst, fluff, soft dom!bucky

Bucky held your hand in his and asked you to follow him upstairs. To his study room.

He very rarely used it, but while you and him made your way up – he had found a use for it instantly.

You looked around, and needless to say, this room was just as orderly and aesthetically pleasing as the rest of his house. The color theme of this room was mainly black and brown, with wooden accents all over. Shelves filled with books, comfortable couches, his large desk, reading lamps, and file cabinets. There were a few plants in the corners of the room, and they looked in perfect shape. The room was light and airy, the large windows showed part of the lush front yard.

You concluded that you liked the room a lot. The room gave a very formal, serious vibe, and you didn’t mind it. It was very fitting for a man like Mr. Barnes.

Bucky spoke up.

“Y/N?” he called out to get your attention, even though you were standing just a feet or two away from him. Him calling you by your name instead of the sweet nicknames caught your attention immediately. You turned to face him.

He approached you and took both your hands in his, his thumb caressed your knuckles as he spoke. “I want this room to be an area that you and I use for serious discussions. You’re free to talk here, and you are not required to call me ‘Sir’, you may call me by my name. James or Bucky, whichever you prefer.” He spoke, and you nodded.

He smiled and looked down at your hands in his. “In this room, we’re not just dom and sub. We’ll need to be open, and honest to each other. Okay?” he needed to make sure you understood.

“Yes.” you answered, smiling faintly.

“Good.” He said and stared into your eyes. You could still see remnants of his dominant side, even if he was trying to tone it down. Control was his forte, so you weren’t entirely surprised. “Let’s take a seat, and we’ll talk.” He walked over to his large desk. And he waited.

He didn’t order you to sit. He didn’t point to any chair in particular, he just waited. You walked over and sat across him. He sat down as well. He noticed your head wasn’t hung low, you faced him properly. He liked it.

“Remember, Y/N, open and honest.” He reminded you, softly. He took a deep breath, “Now tell me what you learned during your training with Thor.” He leaned back in his leather seat. And you mindlessly mimicked his actions, and straightened your back.

You responded after a short pause. “I was taught that masters know best. And that as a sub, I should always, always take whatever they give, without ever interjecting. And I was taught that I should be grateful for whatever attention I get. For that, I had to abide by his set of rules, do my chores and everything else.” You ended your sentence abruptly.

Bucky frowned. “What’s everything else?” he asked. He knew he wasn’t going to like the answer to this but he had to hear it once and for all.

You had nothing to hide, not from him. “Please him, sexually. Else I was said to be ungrateful and undeserving of his attention. Sometimes we would go days and weeks without playtime, because he said he was dissatisfied with my... performance.” You replied.

Bucky noticed the change in your tone. You weren’t scared or nervous, you sounded like you were getting something off your chest. You sounded like the more you talked, the more you felt free.

You did indeed.

Bucky shifted in his seat. He knew this was hard for you to talk about, but it was hard for him too. He wanted nothing more than to just punch that excuse of a man in the face. “Did you wear his collar?”

“Yes.” you responded and he felt a weight on his chest. He hated that answer the most.

“For how long?” he braced himself.

“Two years.” You replied.

Bucky nodded. “What else can you tell me about your time with him, and his training?” he asked. This conversation was uncomfortable, but it needed to be had.

You sighed, looking down at your lap with a strange look on your face. You pitied yourself. “He was intense. He didn’t believe in safe words, or limits, or dos and don’ts.” That pretty much summed up the kind of dom Thor was.

“What if you didn’t like, or didn’t want something?” he asked right away. His anger was building again.

You had the same sad smile on your face as you thought about everything. “I wasn’t allowed to not like something. He trained me into thinking I had no say in anything.” You looked up and faced him. Bucky had never felt a bigger need to protect you like he did now. “And, I couldn’t leave him because…” you trailed off.

He pieced it together. “Because you needed a dom.” He completed your sentence.

You nodded. “Amongst other reasons, yes. That too.” You spoke, he frowned.

Other reasons? “What other reasons?” he questioned, bracing himself again. Fearing that he might hear something he hasn’t been expecting.

You looked down again. “He wasn’t just my master. He owned me, quite literally.” You said. Bucky waited for you to continue – a strange emotion picking at him on the inside. You continued, “He didn’t choose me at the line-up, we didn’t mutually agree on it beforehand, he just gave the club money in exchange for me.” You paused. “He bought me.”

Fuck. Bucky swallowed audibly. You looked up at him, but didn’t think much of it. He didn’t say anything, he was too busy feeling terrible at the sad look on your face.

You spoke again, “Then he got bored.” That sad smile was back again. Bucky felt like someone was very slowly piercing a dagger into his heart, making sure he feels the pain for as long as possible. You continued, “He brought me back to the club, and took his collar away.”

Bucky cringed at your words, almost like he had been slapped across the face. Oh baby… he still remained quiet.

“He forced the club to give him a huge chunk of his money back. They did. But then I had to work for the club, to somewhat make up for it and pay back the money they had to return him. I cleaned before opening and after closing time. They did pay me, but they would take most of my salary away each time.” You didn’t look up at him when you finished talking.

Oh, so that’s what you meant when you said you worked for the club? Bucky thought to himself, processing all the new information you had given him. The strange emotion from earlier still gnawed at him. I’m sorry my angel…

He cleared his throat, attempting to ignore the lump which was forming. “Thank you for telling me. I highly appreciate you being honest with me. I know this was a hard conversation to have, but I’m glad you trusted and confided in me.” He spoke softly.

You looked up at him and smiled faintly. “Thank you for not treating me like a burden, or a commodity like Thor did.” You meant what you said.

Bucky smiled, even though guilt, shame and worry washed over him like a harsh wave. He also noticed that you finally called Thor by his name. Guess this conversation had served its purpose after all. “You’re a priority of mine, Y/N. I will never take you for granted.”

You looked up at Bucky like he hung the moon, and for a few seconds he didn’t know how to act. He forgot where he was, he felt something; a pull. Oh…

He was getting overwhelmed by his emotions, so he changed the topic quickly. He got up from his chair and walked over to you and sat down on the seat next to you. You and him had another lengthy conversation about the real meaning of the relationship between a dom and a sub. Some of his words really moved you.

“I’m here to lift the burden of control off your shoulders whenever you need me to. I will treasure and respect your submission. Your comfort and consent is a priority. You are a priority. I will mold you into the best version of a sub that you can be.”

He continued talking, and you looked into his eyes and wondered where he had been all your life. “Your obedience, your submission, the ability to control you, your responsibility and well-being. Having all that is a big deal. I can’t have you be scared or nervous or hesitant around me. Trust and communication vital for our relationship, okay?”

He spoke looking deep into your eyes. He reached out and held your hand in his again. “Don’t you ever, ever forget that I need you as well. I need you as much as you need me. I need you to tell me things, good or bad. Everything, I need to know.”

You nodded at his words. He continued, “You need to trust me without any hesitation. And remember, even when you submit yourself completely to me, you still have the reins in your hand. You have the power, you just hand it over to me in the playroom. And you allow me to control you and be your dominant and give you what you need. But it still is your power.” He explained. His words echoed in your head. “Do you understand, Y/N?”

You nodded. He tilted his head, giving you a ‘really?’ look. You smiled, “I understand, Bucky.”

He tried not to let it show, but his heart fluttered at the sound of his name leaving your lips. He smiled at you. And the conversation went on for a longer while. You had questions, he had answers.

Then the two of you discussed your limits. What you were willing to try, and what not. Dos and don’ts. Hard nos, and maybes.

“No whips and canes?” he wanted to confirm, looking up from his list. You shook your head. Nope. Bucky scanned the list again. “Riding crop?” he asked. And you had an adorable pout on your face as you thought.

“That’s fine.” You said. He smiled and pushed the list towards you.

“Anything else?” he asked, and watched you intently as you scanned the list and did a little confirming nod at each thing you saw in the dos and don’ts.

“Nope, this is perfectly fine.” You pushed the list towards him again. “Won’t you show me your playroom?” you had a spark in your eyes as you spoke.

Bucky chuckled. “Later, I promise.” Honestly, he couldn’t wait either. But he had some work related things he needed to take care of first, then he would dedicate his entire evening to you and catering to your needs.

Bucky stood up, after putting the sheet of paper in a file. He held his hand out, he had missed holding you in the past hour or so, he couldn’t be as affectionate as he would like given the topic of your conversations were rather serious. “Come on, let’s go back downstairs.”

You took his hand and let him lead you out of the room. Once into the hallway, you spoke up again. “Thank you, sir.” You went back to his preferred title.

“What for, baby?” and he went back to his usual nicknames. He tightened his grip around your hand and you mindlessly scooted further into his side as you two walked back downstairs.

“For being so kind, and caring. For not threatening to leave me or return me to the club if I misbehave.” You voiced out your honest thoughts. Part of Bucky frowned at your words, but part of him liked the honesty.

He stopped at the end of the stairs. “Hey,” he cupped your face. “Forget Thor. Forget the club. I know it’ll take time. But you have to do your best and let what happened in past remain in the past. Okay doll?”

You nodded. “Yes, sir.”

 Once in the living room again, you blushed when you saw the couch on which you were bent over earlier. The tingly feeling came back when Bucky pulled you on his lap again, purposely sitting on the same very couch where he had spanked you earlier.

He pulled you closer as you straddled his lap. “Now tell me, what do you normally enjoy doing?” he asked, then leaned in to kiss the side of your mouth. “Apart from being a perfect little angel, of course.” he added, chuckling and kissing down your neck.

You giggled. “I’m pretty boring. I like animals, I read, I do love plants and gardening.” You replied and he pulled away to look at you with a smile.

“Good thing I have a library and a sunroom. See? You’re absolutely perfect.” He complimented you again and resumed kissed and nibbling on your neck. “Anything else?”

You nodded. “I love baking! But I couldn’t do so with my previous master because he-,”

Bucky cut you off with a rather irritated look. You immediately avoided eye contact and looked down to your lap, and his.

“Look at me.” He sounded stern again. You reluctantly looked up into his eyes. You could still see the caring Mr. Barnes, but he also seemed strict. “He is not your master anymore. You will call him by his name. I have been nothing but good and lenient to you.” he slid his hand into your hair and gently massaged your scalp. “But if you bring up that vile and cruel, disgusting, excuse of a man again, there will be consequences.” He made sure to speak slowly and allowed his words to register properly in your head.

You gave him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, sir.”

He immediately dropped the mean demeanor and pulled you closer. “It’s okay baby, now you know.” He spoke and looked down at your lips for a brief moment. For a moment you thought he would lean in and kiss you. You almost whined when he didn’t. “And feel free to bake whenever, just be careful and don’t hurt yourself.”

You two talked for a little while, then he got a call. Something at his office needed his immediate attention so he had to leave.

“The housekeepers will be here by noon. The chefs comes at around 2. Make yourself at home, baby. I’ll see tonight for dinner.” he left to go get ready and he came downstairs in around 20 minutes.

“Be good for me. You can check out the sunroom and the library in the meantime, okay?” he kissed your forehead before leaving. You smiled as you watched him leave. Damn he looked good in suits.

-

You had checked out the library, and marveled at Bucky’s collection. You checked out the sunroom, and fell in love with it.

Then you got bored.

You were fully aware that he had told you he had people for everything, but you still told the chef to leave early because you wanted to make dinner tonight. You were willing to take the risk. Bucky had been nothing but kind and gentle and caring and giving to you. You wanted to somewhat, return the favor.

Besides, he had an irresistible kitchen. Well-furnished, all white and spacious. You looked out the window often as you cooked, and you made a mental note to check out the backyard sometime soon. It looked so lush, and well-maintained. You wondered how the trimmed grass would feel beneath your bare feet.

You were making a fairly easy dinner. Stuffed chicken breasts, tomato soup and garlic bread. The aroma let you know that it would be great. And once you finished cooking, you went upstairs and showered, put on a nice little sundress and waited for Bucky’s return impatiently.

He had asked you not to, but you still made him dinner. Would he punish you? Or was that alright? You hadn’t seen his playroom yet, but still, the thought of being brought to his playroom and have him punish you was rather exciting.

 You were in the living room, curled up on the couch with a book when you heard the front door opening and closing. You waited, your anticipation growing. Then you saw Bucky walk in; his tie was off, few buttons of his shirt was undone and he ran a hand through his short hair as he walked in.

You didn’t realize how much you had missed him these past hours, until the urgent need to run into his arms and hug him took over you. But you stopped yourself. Instead you put the book down and stood up from the couch, smiling at him.

Bucky chuckled. He could see your hands shaking from holding back from him. He knew how much you liked and needed his soft and gentle touches. He extended both his arms out in front of him, “Come here, baby.” And that was all he needed to say.

You rushed into his embrace and wrapped your arms around him tightly. You pushed your face into his neck and breathed in his cologne. You let out a little moan as your relished his touch. He ran a soothing hand down your back. You stayed like that, in each other’s arms, for quite a while.

“Looks like someone missed me?” Bucky teased. You whined. He chuckled and pulled away to look at you. He held your chin and stared down into your eyes. “Hi, baby.” he whispered.

“Hi.” You whispered back. You still seemed a little sheepish, not knowing how he’d react to you making dinner even though he told you not to. He caught it.

“What is it, angel?” he asked, leaning down to gentle kiss your cheek. He let his lips linger on your skin.

You mindlessly played with a button on his shirt while you spoke, “I know you said not to cook but I sent the chef home early and made you dinner myself. I… I wanted to do something for you, to say thank you for being so nice to me, sir.” You reluctantly looked up at him.

He seemed to be deep in thought. But he didn’t seem angry.

He cracked a little smile. “Well, since my angel made me dinner, I better check it out.” He spoke, kissing your forehead.

You were all smiley after hearing that he wasn’t mad about the whole dinner thing. You held his hand and you two walked into the kitchen together. Bucky got himself a glass of wine and waited at the island while you made him a plate.

He watched you intently. Studying your graceful movements, thinking…

 Dinner was amazing. Usually Bucky ate alone, so it was nice to have company for a change. Besides, he concluded that you were a great cook. After you two ate, you placed the dishes in the dishwasher and turned to face Bucky, thinking he’d have the same smile he had throughout dinner. But you were wrong.

He looked at you, sipping on his wine with an unfamiliar look in his eyes. Oh…

He set his glass down and got down from the stool, “Come here, baby.” he said softly, but you could tell that it was the dom in him talking. You walked over to him, by the kitchen island. You didn’t know what to expect.

He leaned in closer to you, and kissed your cheek. Then moved his mouth down and along your jaw. “Dinner was nice, angel.” He whispered against your skin. You knew a ‘but’ was coming. “But you still disobeyed me when I clearly said there was no need for you to cook.” You shivered at his words. Not in a bad way, in a damn good way. “Do you think my words aren’t meant to be taken seriously?”

“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean t-,” you started out. He cut you off.

“No. I don’t want to hear anything, baby.” He chuckled, his voice sending tingles down your spine – tingles which ended right in between your legs. His next few words made you weak in the knees.

“I think it’s time to introduce you to my playroom, don’t you think so sweetheart?”

-

Bucky’s playroom was exhilarating. You were nervous upon entering the room, but it was a good kind of nervous which heightened all your senses. You took it all in. You did get flashbacks of the past, but then you pushed it aside. This was Bucky. Sweet, kind, caring Bucky. He would never exploit you. He would respect your limits. You were safe. You were safe with him.

The room was darker than the rest of his house. It had darker shades at the windows, it had a darker color theme; black and dark grey with accents of deep red. The walls were dark grey, the modern four-poster bed and the satin sheets on it were all black. And the couch not far from the bed was a deep red. So was the bench next to it – a whipping bench.

You started noticing the equipment around the room. You noticed the large cross on one side of the room, with cuffs on each end of it. The sight of it made you bite your lip instinctively.

You noticed the chains suspending from the ceiling, with cuffs at the ends as well. A fairly large, padded table on the other side of the room. You noticed the hangers with more equipment suspending from it; floggers – suede, leather and fur, cuffs, ropes, paddles – leather and wooden, canes, riding crops, whips, ball gags, blindfolds, plugs and vibrators. You saw something shining even in the dim lights, and you realized those were Wartenberg wheels.

A pleasant tingle danced down your spine.

“Y/N, look at me.” Bucky spoke up, and ceased your imagination which was running wild. You turned to face him. “There are rules that apply in my playroom.” He spoke, softly still and lazily running his hand through your hair. “Each time I’ll tell you to come to my playroom, I want you bare by the bed with your hair down. You understand?” he looked down into your eyes.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.” He almost smiled. “Now, there will be only obedience on your part in this room. No arguing, no talking back. Disobedience will be followed by fitting consequences. You may use your safe words whenever you feel the need to.” He spoke and lazily trailed a finger down to your mouth and traced your lips. “In this room, all of you belongs to me. You will obey, and submit and most importantly, you will trust me with all you have while I correct your behavior. You understand?”

You were completely enchanted by his voice. You felt lighter. Even in the dimly lit room, his blue eyes put you in a trance. “I understand, sir.”

He smiled this time. “Good girl.” He cooed, and trailed his finger down your neck, amused by how your body reacted to his. “Now, although you meant well, you did disobey me today.” Bucky walked around you and stopped behind you. “I said there was no need for you to do chores, because I don’t want you to exert yourself. I need you to be lively in my playroom, not tired.” He pushed your hair aside and kissed your exposed shoulder. You shivered. “Just because I’m nice and lenient, doesn’t mean you get to disobey me whenever you feel like it.”

You shivered again when he bit your ear lobe, tugged on it and kissed it. “Do you understand why you need to be taught a lesson?” he asked, murmuring in your ear. His voice, his touch, his body heat… it was all too much already. How would you endure his punishment?

“I understand, sir.” You replied, closing your eyes.

“Why so?” he wanted you to say it.

“Because I didn’t listen.” You were surprised at how you weren’t afraid of him. You knew you had messed up a little. Just a little. But you weren’t trembling in fear. If anything, you awaited the punishment. His punishment.

“Good. Now I want you to get undressed and bend over the bench, and wait for me. Can you do that for me?” he whispered in your ear. You felt a tingly and hot and bothered just with his voice alone.

“Yes, sir.” You responded, almost breathless already. He gave you a little tap on the butt, and you moved forward instantly. You walked over to the dark red leather bench and stared at it while you undressed until you were completely naked. You slipped the dress off and positioned your legs properly and bent over it. You waited, just like you did this morning.

But this was different. This wasn’t in the living room, this was in his playroom. You waited, and since you couldn’t see him, you relied on your hearing to try and figure out his movements. You heard the shuffling of clothes and the unbuckling of a belt.

Then you heard him walk over to you. “I’ll be easy on you today, given you didn’t mess up too bad. But you still need to learn, don’t you?” he asked.

You agreed. “Yes, sir.” Oh fuck me already… the thought of being filled with his cock was driving you crazy with need. Your heart raced as you heard him take something off the hangers. Whips and canes were hard no’s of yours, and he pledged to respect your limits. So you calmed down a little. You were still tingling however, as you waited.

Then you felt something, soft against your butt. Something so soft it tickled. You realized it must be the fur flogger. You wiggled your butt as he pressed it further against you. You waited for the impact of the flogger, but it didn’t come. Instead, you felt a pair of lips leaving soft kisses up and down your inner thighs. Mindlessly, you spread your legs further apart and pushed your ass out. Bucky chuckled against your thighs.

“So eager,” he commented, his warm breath fanning your wet folds. He stood up and lifted the flogger up in the air, and then brought it down fairly hard on your skin. You let out a little yelp, not out of pain, but just because you weren’t expecting it.

“Are you okay, baby?” he asked, he needed to make sure before continuing.

“Yes, sir.” Your answer sounded firm.

He struck your butt with the flogger again. And again. Then waited, and let a few seconds pass. You waited as well. Then instead of the flogger, he spanked your with his hand, like earlier today only harder this time. You groaned under your breath as the tingles faded into pleasure.

Bucky alternated between the fur flogger and his hand, at some point you stopped trying to guess which one was coming next. You let him do as he pleased. Your soft groans and whimpers turned into loud whines and moans within the next few minutes. And you were dripping; your arousal and need trickling out of you and down your thighs. Bucky enjoyed the show.

“What color, baby?” he asked.

Green. Green. Green, please touch me. “Green, sir.”

Out of nowhere, he slowly slipped a finger inside of you and stroked your walls gently. You moaned wantonly, and he fingered you so slowly that it was both pleasurable and agonizing. “Look at you,” he cooed, “So pretty.” He chuckled when you tried to grind your ass against his hand. “You’re dripping all over my hand.” He commented.

You whined as he slipped his finger out of you and spanked you a few more times. “One of the first things I told you today was to listen to me when I talk. Obey, when I say something.” He brought down the flogger against your butt again. Followed by a spank which made you whimper. “But you did the exact opposite.” Spanked you right in between your legs, earning a loud moan out of you. “What do you have to say for yourself?” he waited, making sure nothing was touching you where you needed him to, so desperately.

“I’m sorry, sir.” You whined. “I’m sorry, and I won’t do it again.” You could feel him standing right behind you, looking at you; so exposed. But you didn’t feel the need to hide. You had nothing to be ashamed of.

He hummed, placing his hand on your butt and massaging it a little. “Say it again.” he pulled his hand away and brought down the flogger again. Smack. You whimpered.

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen, sir.” You said, gasping as he slipped a finger in and out of you rapidly just once.

“Say it again. And mean it, baby.” He could feel his own throbbing erection pressing against the front of his pants. He spanked you again, followed by the flogger.

You wiggled your butt and groaned. “I’m sorry for not listening to you earlier today, sir. I truly am. I won’t do it again, I promise.” You were wanton with need. Begging, both verbally and physically.

He hummed again. “Stand up and go lay down on the bed.” He stepped away from you, watching you as you followed his orders obediently. He noticed there was a glow on your face.

There indeed was, because you finally, after so long, felt carefree. Like you didn’t have to bother about what happens next because you left it all on Bucky. And he managed the responsibility of having control over you perfectly. You just followed his lead, and his hums and sighs and comments brought you immense pleasure and you were content. Satiated, somewhat.

You laid on the cool black satin sheets. And it did wonders for the stinging sensation on your butt. You made sure you were right in the middle before lying perfectly still. Bucky was still out of your line of sight. But you could hear him taking off more things from the hanger. Then you heard him approach you, then felt the bed dip on one side.

“What color, baby?” he asked again.

“Green.” You didn’t hesitate in answering. He hummed in appreciation before taking one of your wrists and tying it to the upper right bedpost. He used black ropes, and the knot was fairly tight. Tight enough to hold you in place but not tight enough to hurt you. He then moved to the other side and did the same thing. Once he was done, he came to a stop right in the middle, where you could see him if you lifted your head just a little from the cool pillow.

He didn’t tie your legs to the lower bedposts. Not this time… he thought. But this still left you completely at his mercy. Your heart raced. Your lower region throbbed in need. You needed him, so badly. And the look of hunger in his eyes, and the very obvious bulge in his pants didn’t help either.

Fuck he looked good. Shirtless, but still in the dark pants he wore to work. You noticed the veins down his arms.

“I would say you took your punishment very well.” He spoke, climbing into bed. “So you get to cum tonight. But you disobeyed me today, so you don’t get to touch me.” He hovered above you, staring deep into your eyes. “Which is why I tied your hands. You understand, baby?” he asked. He sounded very strict at the beginning, but by the time he called you ‘baby’, he got back to his usual, sweet and caring tone.

You nodded frantically. “I understand, sir.” Your body was on fire. You were throbbing, dripping. He was so close, so close… his broad shoulders, his tan skin, his muscular arms, your hands itched just holding back from him. But you couldn’t just reach out and touch him, no, he had made sure of that. You whined under your breath. All he was doing was look into your eyes, but you were writhing already.

He leaned down to kiss you right in between your breasts. Not quite where you needed him, but it still felt damn good. His mouth trailed up and down your body. He purposely avoided where you needed him the most.

He kissed down each one of your thighs, carefully avoiding touching you were you were dripping, and waiting, throbbing with need. He chuckled when you squirmed as he kissed over your hip bones. His warm breath fanned your wet folds and you nearly moaned out loud. He kept his hands at your waist as he tortured you lovingly. Taking his sweet time.

He peppered your skin with kisses, trailing his lips from one hip bone to the other, slowly. You were moaning, squirming and burning with desire by the time he climbed up your body again. He looked you deep in the eyes as he undid his pants and lowered it just enough to free his cock. You shuddered at the sight of it.

“What color, baby?” he asked again, smirking.

Fuck…

“Green, sir.” You sounded like you were pleasing, begging him to just take you already.

And he did. He didn’t waste any time in lifting your legs up and wrapping them around his waist. “You did so good today, baby.” he mumbled, aligning his cock to your entrance. You whined as you felt his cock press against your folds, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

He gave you a gentle smack on your thigh. “Look at me.” He whispered, pressing his tip to your opening. “I want you to look at me while I take you, baby.” He whispered a little breathlessly, looking straight into your eyes.

You listened, and stared deep into his eyes like he wanted you to. Slow and steadily, he pushed himself into you. You whined, and clenched around him immediately as you felt all of him. He leaned down to kiss the side of your face and whispered in your ear about how good you were. You heard his ragged breaths as he removed himself out and pushed himself back into you again.

You moaned as he stretched you out perfectly, your body welcomed him in like he wanted it to. All you could focus on was how he felt snug, deep inside you. His warmth, his loving words and how your bodies connected – it was all overwhelming. Your lips parted, you gasped as he began moving against you, staring deep into your eyes.

“That’s it my angel, take all of me,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around your waist and thrusting deeper into you. You whimpered as he sped up a little. He growled and gasped and moaned. You relished the feeling of being in his arms, not worrying about a thing; not the past, not the future, not what would happen next. You were here, with him in his playroom and that was all you needed.

Your back arched off the cool satin sheets as he sped up even more. His hand occasionally brushed against your slightly sore ass and you whined each time he did. Bucky fucked you quicker, harder; making you squirm and tremble under him. And oh how he liked it.

The sight of you tied in his playroom, knowing that you trusted him completely and that you knew you were safe with him here. Allowing him to take control, and correct your behavior as he deemed fit.

He sped up again, rocking his hips against yours at a pleasurable rhythm as his hand reached up to wrap around your neck gently. He stared into your eyes, speeding up into you again. You thought he would control your breathing as well, but he didn’t. He just kept his hand there, and you found yourself liking it. A lot.

It was like a reminder; you’re mine.

Your legs tightened around him as you felt a familiar warmth wash over, as the pressure in between your legs got more and more intense. “Ah, you are so good, babygirl.” He mumbled, pushing his face into your neck. Nibbling and biting your skin as he pounded into you harder than earlier. “You’re all mine.” he growled in your ear.

Your moans and mewls got louder. His growls got more frequent. And you could feel yourself slipping away into euphoria. “Can I… can I please cum, sir?” you asked for permission even though he told you that you could earlier. He groaned, and pulled away to look into your eyes again. He could feel you clenching around him and he knew he wouldn’t last long either.

“Yes,” his voice was right between a growl and an involuntary moan. “Cum for me, my little pearl. Cum with me…” he sped up again, fucking you relentlessly. His stare was intense as he watched you come undone under him with a loud moan. Your walls clenched violently around him, milking him perfectly.

He came right after you, growling and gasping loudly as his warm load filled you up. He took a second to calm himself down and then he let go of your legs immediately. He rushed to untie you and cradled you in his arms, kissing the top of your head and your forehead.

“You did so good, my angel. I am so proud of you. You’re such a good girl.” he mumbled over and over again as you let him hold you, your body trembling still. His words made you so happy. Yes, I am! I’m your good girl!

You had a smile on your face upon hearing his words – which was a rare thing for you, after playtime, you rarely smiled in the past. But you were now. This kind of happiness was new to you, but you welcomed it with open arms.

-

Bucky ran you a bath, in the large bathroom he had upstairs, right after stepping out of his playroom. He helped you into the large bathtub, filled with warm water and sat you down in between his legs. From the moment you settled in between his legs, his hands and lips didn’t leave your body. He caressed down your sides, ran his hands along your thighs and kissed down your neck, making you giggle each time he kissed your ticklish spot.

He grabbed one of the detachable shower heads and rinsed your hair first. Then squirted some shampoo in his hands and gave you the best shampoo you ever had. He took his time, massaged your scalp and leaned down to kiss your cheek occasionally. He rinsed your hair then let you lean back against him as he washed the rest of you with the loofah sponge. He paid a lot of attention to your breasts, and your inner thighs. And you were very giggly through it all.

Then you got quiet. “Baby?” he called out, fearing you might have fallen asleep with your head against his chest.

“Hmm?” your reply came. He could tell you were slowly slipping out of the headspace you were in inside the playroom, and he wanted to ensure that you were okay.

“Talk to me.” He sounded slightly pouty. You giggled. “I need to make sure you’re okay, angel come on. How are you feeling?” he asked, kissing the top of your head.

You sighed, relishing the warm water and the feeling of his strong arms around you. “I’m fine, sir. I’ve never felt better.” Your answer was honest.

He smiled and brought his hands up to your shoulder and gave it a much needed massage. He could see how you were calming down at his touch. “I want you to know that I was easy on you today, baby. Should you ever disobey me again, there will be harsher consequences. You understand, my little pearl?” he thought you should know.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.” He immediately attacked your face with loud, open mouth kisses which made you laugh out loud. He loved the sound of you so happy and safe and carefree in his arms. I will protect you with my life, babygirl…

Although he was content with you in his arms, your head tilted back, leaning against his chest. There was something he still needed to answer to. “I need to ask you something, baby.” he spoke against your sweet smelling, damp hair.

You turned to your side and looked up at him. “Anything, sir.”

How adorable. He took a deep breath and made sure to look you in the eyes as he spoke. “You can refuse me if you want to. But I was wondering, would you want to wear my collar?” he asked.

Your heart fluttered. His collar. Mr. Barnes’ collar. You searched his eyes. There was not an ounce of doubt, or hesitation in his eyes. Just care, and affection.

“Yes sir.” You answered, truthfully. And his heart raced. Oh baby…

He smiled and pulled you back into his chest. “You make me so happy angel, you know that?”

You nodded. “You make me happy too, sir.” You snuggled further into his embrace. And so you stayed until the water got cold.

Bucky helped you out of the bath tub, dried you with a towel and wrapped a fluffy robe around you, tying it securely around your waist. He did the same for himself, and then held you hand and led you to his bedroom. This was the first time you entered his room. And it was just as classy and elegant and organized as he himself was.

“Come here, baby.” he called out and you walked over to him by his huge closet. You noticed something shiny in his hand as you approached. “Kneel.” His voice reminded you of that night at the club, when you first pleasured him. You hung your head low, but then he said, “Look at me.” You did.

He looked down at you with nothing but adoration in his eyes. “This collar represents my control over you. Whenever you have it on, it is your duty to abide by my rules. When you have it on, you are required to trust me with your complete submission. Disobedience will be followed by consequences.” He paused, giving you time to process everything. You recognized some of his words from his study earlier.

He continued. “I will respect you, care for you, and treasure your submission. I will correct your behavior when needed. Your physical, mental and emotional health is my priority. You are my priority. Don’t ever forget that, baby. Okay?” he had that soft look on his face again.

You nodded quickly. “Yes sir.” He was so respectful, and gentle. Your heart fluttered in anticipation.

“Good girl.” He spoke, reaching out to caress your cheek. He then bent down a little to clasp the collar around your neck. It was cold. But you didn’t know what it looked like yet because you were focused on his face. Oh his handsome face…

“Stand up baby.” he said, and you did as he asked. He walked you over to the large mirror in his room and stood beside you in front of it. You saw the collar around your neck in the reflection and you couldn’t help but reach up and touch it.

It was beautiful. Light, bedazzled and pretty. From far, it looked like just a very expensive diamond choker. You stepped closer to the mirror to admire it and see the details. Engraved very faintly on the thin metal strip in the middle section were the initials, J.B.B, so small and faint that one would have to stand very close to you to see it.

“You like it, angel?” Bucky asked.

You looked at him through the reflection. You nodded. “I love it, sir. Thank you.”

He smiled. “You earned it, baby. I should be thanking you for being so good to me.” He stepped closer to you and kissed your head again. You smiled and looked down, all the emotions in his eyes were too much to handle.

“Now, you may not wear it out in public. Or on days when you don’t feel like you want playtime. It’s up to you. But each time I ask you to go to the playroom, I want it on. Okay?” he explained and you nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

Then he did something unexpected. He turned you around gently, looked down at how beautifully his collar adorned your neck. He gently held your chin in his hand, and leaned in for a kiss. A proper kiss, on the mouth. Oh…

His lips were soft, and his taste made your heart flutter. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer and wishing neither of you had the robes on. He kissed you deeply, slowly pushing his tongue past your lips and stroking the top of your mouth. You moaned quietly into his mouth. He smiled through the kiss. “You’re all mine.” he whispered against your lips as he pulled away gently. Finally.

“I’m all yours, sir.” You confirmed.

He smiled brightly. “Now come on, bedtime.”

 He held your hand again, and walked you over to your room. He went to find you PJs while you removed the robe. He dressed you; first underwear, then the cotton shorts, then finally a loose t-shirt. He kissed your lips again, once he was done getting you ready for bed.

“Are you gonna watch me sleep?” you asked, teasing him a little since he was still sat in your bed despite having tucked you in for the night.

He chuckled. “No, I’ll go once I make sure you’re asleep.” He cooed, stroking your hair. “Close your eyes baby, you’ve had a long day. You need to rest.”

Hmm, a long but pleasurable day. You thought to yourself. And that was the last thought you had before drifting off to a much needed sleep.

Bucky played with your hair until he heard your deep, steady breaths signaling that you were fast asleep. He leaned down to give you one last forehead kiss. “Good night, my little pearl.” He took another look at his collar around your neck and walked out of your room.

On his way to his bedroom, he thought of the whole day. The revelations, and how you trusted him with your secrets. He thought of Thor, and how upset you were while talking about how the latter bought you and used you.

Then Bucky thought what he himself did recently. I’m sorry baby. I did it for you, all for you. I hope that one day when you find out, you understand why I did it, angel.

[guesst]

some of the best fantasy au fics for bnha that i've read

i decided to make a fic rec list of one of my favourite aus/fusions. mostly midoriya-centric, there are some crossovers (with hp), and a lot of different ways in which the authors have taken them - so it could be Quirks, ghosts, outright fantasy aus, spirits, witches etc etc. there isn't a specific order and there aren't a tonne (these are the ones i could find buried in my bookmarks lol), but the ones on the list are all really well written i love them.

i've tried adding relevant information, the summary (shortened if it's pretty long) and just. adding some random tags that may be important. not all of them though. obviously this is not a complete list and there will most definitely be more fics out there, if there are some really good fics that you know that aren't on this list, feel free to tell me, i'd love to read them!!!

i hope someone enjoys these!

Faith Becomes You by SugaSuga

oneshot | gen dfo, quirkless midoriya summary 'There's a tiny shrine in Musutafu that's overgrown with kudzu vines between Izuku's apartment and his middle-school. There may very well still be a god inside it. There may be nothing but the myth of a man from when Quirks were first emerging. Izuku hides in its walls for a while and ends up tending to the forgotten shrine. All good deeds have their impact, don't they?'

Of Mythos and Men by Oceanbreeze7

oneshot | gen spirit animal au, kinda summary (shortened) 'When he was young, Midoriya always wondered what his mythos would be. The matching half to his quirk, the ancestry of its power. Mythos were strange things, not linked genetically like quirks seemed to be. [...] Midoriya hadn't met his mythos. Even in UA. (In his dreams, something called to him, 'Chase me!')'

what a lion cannot manage by LadyLiterature

multichapter | ongoing | f/m, m/m kitsune au, female izuku, future bakudeku summary (shortened) 'She wants to be a hero. Wants to save everyone she meets and even the people she hasn’t. [...] A smart fox avoids fights. A smart fox does not seek them out. A smart fox does not fight for everyone. A smart fox, when they absolutely must, only fights for themselves and what is theirs and nothing else. Izumi, for all that she tries to be, is not a good fox.'

My Magic Academia by Kiterou

series | oneshots and multichapter | ongoing | gen HP crossover, wizard midoriya, platonic bkdk, some ocs summary (shortened) ' [...] In which Midoriya Inko is a witch and Izuku a wizard and even after 150 years of quirks taking over the world, Izuku still couldn't tell Kacchan that he isn't worthless and that he still could become a hero all on his own.'

A Lonely Windchime Makes No Sound by Musecookie

multichapter | ongoing | multi reader/shinso, total fantasy au, very wholesome summary (shortened) ' [...] You enjoy visiting your slightly creepy local library. When you accidentally befriend the elusive owner's familiar, he begins to appear more and more when you visit. You don't really mind, and he doesn't seem to hate you, even when the two of you become tied up in each other's fate as you pursue the secret to reviving a magical species of flower. Soft Strangers to Friends to Lovers type beat with lots of fluff and naps! Sleepy cuddles included.'

The grapes of friendship by Gentrychild

oneshot | gen crack, dfo, vampire izuku summary 'Izuku, a dhampir hiding his real identity as he goes to UA, the best wizard school in the country, spends the day with his friends. None of them are aware of it.'

Yesterday Upon the Stair by PitViperofDoom

multichapter | complete | gen less supernatural, izu's quirk lets him see ghosts, he still has ofa summary (shortened) 'Midoriya Izuku has always been written off as weird. As if it's not bad enough to be the quirkless weakling, he has to be the weird quirkless weakling on top of it. But truthfully, the "weird" part is the only part that's accurate. He's determined not to be a weakling, and in spite of what it says on paper, he's not actually quirkless [...] Not that anyone would believe it if he told them.'

sum of all (and by them driven) by Elemental

series | multichapter | ongoing | gen dadzawa, spirits give quirks, izu sees these spirits series summary 'Quirks aren't what you think they are.' first part summary (shortened) 'Midoriya Izuku is medically quirkless, not technically homeless, perpetually exhausted and doing his damned best despite it all. He also sees spirits, which might be cool if not for the fact that a) no one else does, b) they really don't like him very much, and c) he's pretty sure the heroes now think he's a villain working for the League [...]'

The Struggles of a Modern-Day Vampire by miraculousemily47

oneshot | gen crack, 1-a shenanigans, vampire midoriya summary 'After Midoriya Izuku is turned into a vampire towards the end of his first year at U.A., he decides he wants to tell his classmates about his condition. The only problem is that he can't physically say the words, and his classmates are fucking idiots.'

Lights in the Dark by FrostKitten

series | oneshots | ongoing | gen supernatural au, izuku can see demons etc, quirkless/magic au summary (of first part) 'Midoriya Izuku, like most young kids, knows there are monsters. They live in closets, under beds, and occasionally in the park. As he grows older, his friends stop seeing them...but he still does.'

Hand in Unlovable Hand by jumbletea

series | oneshots | ongoing | gen vampire midoriya (and aizawa), dadzawa, toga n dabi n mido being siblings summary 'A collection of stories surrounding a not-quite-human Izuku and everyone he meets along the way.'

Simply Superstitious by CryCaladrius

multichapter | ongoing | gen lots of folklore and yokai and stuff, 'quirkless' magic user izuku, decent dad hisashi too summary (shortened) 'Izuku Midoriya’s father is a Hou-ou — a Japanese phoenix. For some reason, this means yokai have a standing invitation to pester Izuku with their existence. Birds assemble choirs for his birthday. If there’s no cedar leaf under the welcome mat, the amazake babaa that lives two apartments over will be knocking on their door by evening. His yokai-purifying excursions get mistaken for vigilantism far too often. [...]'

Cuckoo Bird (anonymous author)

multichapter | ongoing/maybe discontinued | gen it may be discontinued but theres lots of fae folklore, deku is a changeling, deals etc, plus some platonic shindeku building up?? summary 'There's something off about Midoriya Izuku. (change·ling /ˈCHānjliNG/ noun a child believed to have been secretly substituted by fairies for the parents' real child in infancy.)'

tread softly as you go by IceEckos12

oneshot | gen if you read any fae au please let it be this! has faeries but mido is not one summary 'Humans used to be good at the old ways. They used to know how to bait the trap, to spin a web of words and lies that would ensnare even the most wily. Humans used to be able to twist deceptions around knots of iron and turn them into weapons of power. They forgot a long, long time ago. A boy unwittingly makes a deal with one of the fae, severing his ties to humanity. However, he finds that the fae world is far more strange and complex than he ever could have imagined.'

Hell is just a shoujo manga by supercrunch

multichapter | complete | f/m fantasy au, bakudeku, fem!izuku, isekai, dekusquad stuff, also some iidachako summary (shortened) 'Izuku wakes up crushed under a statue, trapped in the body of a princess who doesn't exist. Turns out she's a demon, which is weird. What's even weirder is the déjà vu that surrounds Kamino palace, reminding her of the events of this one manga she used to love. [...] But that's probably just a coincidence. [...] The problem here, obviously, is that Izuku's the demon princess. Ergo, she's a villain. And that means she's going to die at the end of this manga. Again.'

hold your breath as you cross by cassiopeia721

oneshot | gen dadzawa, another 'quirks are from spirits au' (expect more of those actually), mido is sad :( summary 'As the bridge between the world of guardian spirits and the quirk users who are blessed by them, Izuku's duty is to clean up the mess his predecessor left. It's taken what feels like an eternity worth of work, but Izuku's finally finished, and he's ready to rest at last. Unfortunately, the pro heroes who just watched him take down the Scourge of Kamino have no intention of letting him just wander off, and he finds himself stuck in an interrogation room with a bunch of humans who he's sure will never believe a word he says.'

To See with Eyes Unclouded by CrazySatan

series | oneshots | ongoing | gen witch au, witch midoriya, quirkless mido, bkg is not a good friend series summary 'Midoriya Izuku is a witch. A powerful witch. And even though he doesn't have a quirk, and magic doesn't Work Like That, Izuku ends up a hero. Somehow.'

Demons and Darkness by wolfsrainrules

series | oneshots | ongoing | gen dadzawa, shinso and mido and bkg are becoming friends, they can see monsters/spirits/bad things summary of first part 'Izuku has believed in the things that go bump in the night since he was small. That means he can see them, and almost everyone he knows....can't. So he decides he's going to be the shield humanity needs, no matter what. Eventually, he finds others that See too.'

know what i've made by the marks on my hands by simkjrs

multichapter | ongoing/maybe discontinued | gen dadzawa, quirk spirit au (this inspired most of the others on this list), also eri summary (shortened) 'Midoriya Izuku just wants to lead a quiet, peaceful life. This is foiled by the fact that a) he can see spirits, b) his good nature demands that he help anyone he sees in trouble, and c) he, by all rights, should not exist. [...]'

Izuku haunts class 1-A by Artistic-Gamer

series or multichapter whichever floats your boat | incomplete (hiatus) | other there are some triggering themes! such as suicide, blood, body disfigurement! please take care of yourself and avoid reading if this will hurt you! in other news: so much dadzawa, so much friendship, hurt mido summary (of first part) 'Class 1-A is rumored to be haunted, only the residents are aware it’s more than just a rumor..'

U.A's Resident Ghost by BeyondTheClouds777

multichapter | ongoing/maybe discontinued | gen ghost midoriya, dadzawa, friendships!!!! summary 'There is a ghost at U.A. Not haunting U.A. Not even hanging out at U.A. There is a ghost. Enrolled. As a student of U.A. And it's just Shouta's luck that he has everything to do with it.'

and now, the weather by xylophones

oneshot | gen CRACK, paranormal/ghost hunters au, dekusquad stuff summary 'Izuku runs a fictional horror radio show. Because ghosts aren’t real. Right? (“Holy shit, ghosts are real,” Izuku whispers. Then, with the smugness of a sixteen-year-old who just won a decade long bet, “I knew it! Kacchan owes me five hundred yen!” “Midoriya,” Todoroki sighs, “this ghost is trying to kill us.”)'

U.A Unsolved by handcrusher(ameliafromafairytale)

oneshot | gen (it's a fic of a fic, so if you've read yesterday upon the stair then you'll understand better) izuku can see ghosts thats his quirk summary ' "Hey there, ghosts," Midoriya says, "it's me, ya boy." The dorms are haunted. Shenanigans ensue.'

The Haunting of Class 1-A by BritishRobutt

multichapter | ongoing/maybe discontinued | n/a ghost midoriya, vigilante au, crack, the ghost bit is izu's quirk summary 'Everyone always told Izuku he couldn't be a hero, so when he dies and discovers his quirk, he becomes a vigilante out of spite. Whoops. After becoming Spectre, Japan's most wanted vigilante, Izuku realizes he can just fulfill his dreams of going to the top heroic school- after all, who can physically stop him from attending UA when he's a literal ghost?'

Caged by SternStunde

oneshot | gen tododeku, fantasy au (todo is a dragon, mido is a princess), genderbent deku (fem deku) summary 'Then she held up one of the books and smiled. "Want to learn an ancient language with me?" She was kind of a nerd, and she really hoped the dragon was too.'

Magic Runs Deep by draconicschinx

multichapter | ongoing/probably discontinued | gen mido has a quirk and he can see mythical creatures. summary '"Midoriya Izuku has always been good at making friends. Not human ones, really, but they are good friends nonetheless. " Izuku can see and talk to and interact with mythical creatures. It's not exactly the quirk he was hoping for, but he's going to use it to help humans and his non-human friends all the same.'

[formulavilla7]

Always the Bridesmaid, never the bride (A Timo Werner imagine)

This is my first fanfiction so I apologise if it’s not great, I’d love to improve. I’m quite nervous to post this haha. Hope you enjoy nevertheless though and I’d appreciate any feedback. Thanks!

It was the same old story for Y/N. An invitation to a wedding and a request that she’d be a bridesmaid and thus she had a lot of responsibility. This was nothing new however, it was actually the opposite, for Y/N this was the third wedding that she’d be attending as a bridesmaid and whilst she was honoured that her friends wanted her to have such an influential role in their special day, she couldn’t help but be jealous, longing to be in their place, shrouded in white. She longed for the moment where she’d commit to the man she’d love for the rest of her life.

Unfortunately for Y/N, she hadn’t found Mr Right yet and she hadn’t exactly been actively looking. Her love life was pretty much non existent and had been for a while, it had all dried up and there was a drought in her heart that she was waiting for that special person to fill.

After being run off her feet for hours supporting the bride, her dear friend Katie and making sure that her groom (a certain Chelsea left back by the name of Ben Chilwell) wasn’t tempted to peek, Y/N got ready herself in a royal blue dress, chosen by the bride to reflect her groom’s team and then joined the ceremony. It was beautiful and she had to be careful not to shed a tear or two, not wanting to spoil her makeup. Only then did the reception party begin.

Following the first dance of the newly wedded and blissfully happy couple, the party kicked off in full flow with music and dancing and drinks flowing from the bar. Y/N smiled to herself, quietly observing with her drink in the corner, sipping at it occasionally and humming to some of the songs. Unbeknownst to her though, she had an admirer. Timo Werner. The blond haired German was quietly observing her from across the room, taking in how happy and relaxed she looked. He watched her for a short time, trying to work up the courage to talk to her but doubting himself every time. ‘What if she doesn’t want to be disturbed?’, he asked himself. ‘What if you embarrass yourself?’ His train of thought was interrupted by both the groom and his fellow German, Kai Havertz both of whom had noticed him staring, utterly transfixed by the mystery woman. He was startled when they appeared next to him, heart rate spiking in fear and a rush of breath leaving him as he almost jumped out of his skin. They laughed between themselves at his terror,finding it rather amusing and began to tease him. ‘You know Timo’ Kai started, struggling to hide his smile ‘staring is usually considered to be quite rude’

Ben chimed in ‘You should probably go and introduce yourself and try and make conversation like a normal person. You don’t want to give off the wrong impression. Oh and don’t even try and deny it Timo’ he said seeing the faux confusion in Timo’s eyes

‘Alright you got me, I was looking at her but I can’t just go over. What would I say? Hi I’m Timo and I’m the guy who’s been staring at you for the past 5 minutes?’ He blushed, embarrassed to have been caught. He felt to shy to go over, he didn’t have the guts and was worried that she’d think he was strange and that he wouldn’t have a chance with her. She was beautiful and he was sure there was more to her than what met the eye and he felt certain that she would have already have found someone. He felt jealous of that person and hoped that they felt lucky to have her.

‘Well maybe don’t admit to staring at her for 5 minutes’ Ben laughed at his friend ‘but introduce yourself. Talk to her, you never know what might happen. Katie speaks really highly of her’

Timo sighed, he knew his friend was right. There was only one way of finding out and that was to gain some confidence and go over to her so he took a deep breath and went over before he could talk himself out of it, Ben and Kai clapping him on the back in support.

The sound of his dress shoes reverberated against the floor, alerting Y/N to his approach. She looked up slightly, sending Timo a soft, shy smile. She had also been secretly checking him out, admiring his sharp features.

Finally he stood in front of her and was able to see her beauty close up, including the stunning smile she sent him. ‘Hi, I’m Timo’ he said nervously ‘I don’t think we’ve met’

‘You’re right, I don’t think we have. I’m Y/N’ she smiled, reaching out her hand which he shook. She too felt apprehensive, unused to being the centre of attention especially by a man and an attractive one at that. She blushed at the thought, cheeks blooming into a soft pink.

‘Nice to meet you. You were a bridesmaid right?’

‘I was, it’s my third time being one. I think you could say that ‘always the bridesmaid never the bride’ would be an accurate phrase to sum me up’ she laughed awkwardly, cursing herself for admitting that. Great she thought, now he thinks that no one wants you.

Timo just smiled however and made no comment on that. ‘I can’t dance very well but I noticed you looking at the dance floor earlier and I wondered, would you like to dance with me?’ He held out his hand shyly, hope gleaming in his brown eyes. She took his hand, smiling and nodded. She wanted to get to know the German and she felt butterflies in her stomach when he offered to dance with her. She found him endearing, with everything from his strong accent and English to his gentle eyes, warm and comforting.

As they danced albeit a little clumsily with Timo’s footwork not being quite as good as it would be if he had a ball at his feet, they both felt oddly content despite being relative strangers as they conversed gradually learning more about each other. Timo told her what it was like playing football for a club like Chelsea and how it wasn’t always easy, he told her about his hometown Stuttgart and about Leipzig as she listened intently, offering him a comforting ear when he admitted his struggles with Chelsea (he felt oddly at ease telling her despite it being their first meeting) and she reacted with a keen interest when he told her about Germany, having never been herself and in return she told him about her life in England where she’d been born and raised, how she’d become friends with Katie and her job working as a florist, where she’d created the beautiful centrepieces and the bride’s stunning bouquet. She’d thought carefully about the flowers included and the meanings they had and Timo admired her as she told him about her love for the flowers she included and how thoughtful she appeared to be, taking care so that everything would be perfect for her friend.

By the end of the night they’d swapped numbers with a promise to meet up in the week with Timo bucking up the courage to ask her on a date. They left each other reluctantly, both of them excited to see where this would go and Timo couldn’t help but to internally thank Ben and Kai because without them he wouldn’t have had this opportunity. Only time would tell if Y/N would finally be able to call herself the bride one day and neither of them could wait.

[writing-gifts]

crushed (bruno x gn!reader)

A/N: the best way to sum this is up is reader highly struggles with their feelings and romantic intimacy

-----

When you first met Bruno there weren't any instant clicks but he was polite enough, so you felt neutral towards him like you did most people. However, with more and more interactions you quickly began to enjoy his presence and found yourself spending time with him outside of work.

It was rare for you to become this comfortable around anyone, but within a short amount of time you felt you could be your complete and honest self when you were alone with the man. And by now, the two of you would seek out each other's company when either of you had free time.

You could barely remember the last time you had gotten this close with someone since you joined Passione so this relationship had become quite precious to you. But sometimes, in the middle of the night as you tried to fall asleep, you would wonder what it would be like to pursue something more romantic. You always imagined ridiculous and improbable things during that time though so you mostly ignored these thoughts. Honestly, you were lucky to have even just this as a mafioso.

One day, during a rare occurrence where you got to see Giorno, he says something to you that makes that strange idea stick in your mind.

“So you and Bruno get along well,” the blonde teen suddenly brings up.

You stop eating your ice cream. You’re a little apprehensive since Giorno is never one to talk unless he actually has something substantial to say. But you nod and smile.

“Other than being a dependable person to work with, he's a really great friend. I'm glad I met him.”

“Are you sure it's just friendly?”

There it was.

You stop smiling and tilt your head. "What do you mean? We are just friendly."

The boy gives you a knowing look.

“Giorno…”

“I don't get to see you two together often but I sense something there.”

If 'sense' means Mista was telling him nonsense then sure.

Glaring, you silently look down at your ice cream. You didn’t really want to finish it anymore.

“Just saying.”

After that encounter, your relationship with Bruno becomes less comfortable. You feel tense and awkward whenever he’s around, and you could barely make eye contact or talk clearly with him. It honestly made you want to cry, so you start to avoid him in hopes of escaping this newfound stress.

However, it’s harder than you expect. Each day you would accidentally find yourself in the same area as him, but before he could approach you, you were escaping through the nearest exit. At one point, you even considered using a window before you realized how unnecessary that was.

You curse Giorno under your breath.

-----

This was day 7 of avoiding Bruno and you really missed him even though it hasn’t been that long.

You lean forward to rest your head in your hands. At least the weather was nice today.

You decided instead of risking running into Bruno you could just go somewhere where it would be unlikely to run into him. So you end up at the beach. By yourself.

You sigh. It would be more fun if the others were here. Whenever you wanted to do any type of non-mafia related activity you’d try to plan it around their schedules. It was genuinely more fun for you this way ever since you started to get to know them, with Bruno’s encouragement of course.

"Hey ____!"

You flinch from the sudden noise and turn towards the familiar voice that called out to you and see not only Mista approaching, but the rest of the gang decked out in their swimwear--Narancia, Fugo, Abbacchio, Bruno, and even Giorno.

Bruno was here.

Said man’s sunglasses blocked his eyes but you knew he was looking directly at you.

You think to run but freeze up. It's like your legs were ignoring the alarms in your head.

Shit.

Mista plops down next to you on your towel.

"...Hey Mista," you say under your breath.

"You went to the beach and didn't invite us?"

"Er, you guys were going to be busy? Why are you even here?"

“Giorno decided to give us a day off today,” Mista says.

Of course he did.

Giorno walks nearby, towel in hand. "You're welcome."

Was he talking to you or Mista? You scowl at him either way.

Narancia shouts a quick greeting as he runs directly towards the water while Fugo yells at him to come back for sunscreen.

You pull your knees up to your chest and look quietly at your feet to avoid any accidental eye contact with a certain someone.

“Well it's good you guys get to take a break, especially you Giorno.”

Mista stretches and throws an arm around your shoulder. “Giorno’s been working us to death!”

“We forgot the cooler, I'll go get it,” you hear Bruno say.

You shut your eyes.

“You okay?” Mista asks.

Forcing your eyes back open, you nod. “Why would there be something wrong?”

Abbacchio drops a bunch of stuff next to you. "Please hurry up and make up with Bucciarati.”

Your eyes widen and you whip your head towards the goth.

"Abbacchio we aren't supposed to get involved," Mista sighs.

"If we don't get involved then they'll avoid each other the whole day."

Your hands drag down your face and you look at Mista. “So...you all already know that I've been avoiding him?”

“Well we've barely seen you in a week and Bucciarati’s been...quieter, I guess.”

“You literally ran away the other day,” Abbacchio says.

You purse your lips at the realization that you attempt to be discrete was a complete failure.

Mista frowns and rubs at his short hair, one of the few times you've seen him without his hat. "Jeez you don't hold back..."

Abbacchio settles himself under the giant parasol he put up. "...Bucciarati’s not mad, so just talk to him."

It’s not like you want to avoid Bruno forever, you just needed time to get your emotions in order, but it was easier said than done. Whenever you thought of him you could feel butterflies and your heart would beat a bit--no a lot faster.

It scared the shit out of you.

When you got like this you became an awkward bumbling mess and you couldn't stand it--the feeling of losing control.

But you didn't want to damage your relationship with Bruno because of something so trivial. So you nod and get up, dislodging Mista’s arm, and without a word walk towards the direction your friend went.

“You don't know where the car’s parked.” Giorno says as you pass him.

You could hear the slight amused lithe in his tone but ignore it.

“Right...”

After Giorno tells you where to go, you take an unnecessary long time walking to the car. You could only walk so slow though and eventually see it in the distance parked at the side of the road.

There Bruno was, standing next to the open trunk of the car. Why was he just standing there?

You steel yourself and continue walking forward.

Don't ask questions or you'll chicken out.

When Bruno notices you approaching him you ignore the urge that you’ve had all week to escape. Stopping in front of him you surprisingly manage to get out a clear, simple statement.

“Can we talk?”

He nods and closes the trunk.

You don't want to talk where anyone could hear so you open the car's back door and slide into the backseat and Bruno follows right after, closing the door behind him. Now that you don’t feel as vulnerable, you should be able to speak but you stare nervously at the back of the front seat's headrest instead. You had no idea where to start.

Bruno removes his sunglasses while the both of you sit there in awkward silence.

“...____?”

You take a breath. “S-Sorry...I’m sure you know that I’ve been a-avoiding you…”

“Have you?”

Maybe he was saying that in an attempt to lighten the mood, but you feel like there’s also a hint of resentment. And you couldn't blame him. From his point of view, his friend just suddenly started ignoring him with no good reason.

“I’m sorry.”

“...Did I do something wrong?”

“No, you didn't do anything wrong! It’s all me.”

When he gives you a questioning look, obviously waiting for a further explanation, you can only see a way to redeem this properly by confessing.

"Me...I-I like..."

You can't even speak properly!

You cover your face in an attempt to avoid Bruno's piercing gaze. "Stop looking at me…"

He tilts his head a bit but turns his gaze away from you. "Where else am I supposed to look?"

You inhale and exhale deeply and focus on your next words. "I like...you. In a non-platonic w-way--a ro-romantic way....shit."

You didn’t think you could stare any harder at the back of the car seat.

“____ can you look at me for a second?”

Even though looking in his eyes made you feel tense you force yourself to.

“I know being open like this can be hard for you. Thank you for telling me.”

You nod. "Also you don't have to accept my feelings--"

“I like you too.”

You take a moment to process what you just heard. Doubt and hope somehow feel your chest simultaneously.

“R-Really?”

"Yes, for a while now. I didn't know how to bring it up without stressing you out or if it would be a good idea at all."

"Oh, me too--A part of me didn’t think it would be a good idea pursuing anything romantic because of our work."

And you somehow managed to delude yourself in the process.

It's quiet for a moment before you close the space between you two and press a kiss against his cheek.

Oh god.

Even though you were the one who did it, your face heats up just from that simple action. You open an eye and see him smiling softly at you. Your hands are immediately covering your face in embarrassment.

Bruno chuckles before wrapping an arm behind you. "Overwhelmed?"

"If--If I do it more I'll get used to it."

Inhaling, you force yourself to stop hiding--you’d done enough of that. You do still struggle to look at him though.

"Can we do more of the...kissing stuff?"

Bruno fingers gently brush your cheek and he directs your gaze towards him. "I can’t kiss you properly if you aren't looking at me," he whispers.

Your eyes close on their own as the space between you two is closed once again. Bruno's lips felt soft against yours and you find yourself leaning into him. But unfortunately it’s not enough to keep your overthinking at bay.

Am I doing this right? Wait...are my lips chapped?

Bruno’s hand gently grabs yours and he pulls back. "You don't need to force yourself ____.”

“Oh no, I want to do this! I'm just nervous.” You laugh awkwardly, “I’m not exactly the most experienced…”

Bruno hums. “Me neither.”

You raise a brow. “What?”

“I haven’t had much time for serious relationships.” Bruno's nose softly brushed against yours.

“Oh...right.”

He must still have a little more experience with….intimacy than you though? Or maybe you were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t notice?

Bruno hand caresses your check and he presses a kiss to the corner of your lips. You’re overthinking again. “Just know we don't have to rush anything, okay?”

For the first time today, you’re able to look at the man without discomfort as you try to see if he really means it. But you can’t imagine those words being anything but genuine coming from him.

“Okay.”

[wornoutmouse]

I'm doing a Haikyuu male reader next of my own devising since hoes don't want to request 🙄.Fyi i write smut, angst, and fluff just tell me yeah charcter, category and plot of you want.

Sukuna x Gojo x femReader

Don't ask the time period i don't even know man😓😭 I'd like to say it's set in Africa during like the era when Japan still had emperor's.

Once again sorry I'm working so slow sometimes plots don't work and i have to restart.

But reciving the news of my teacher/second father's death this morning has urged me to bury myself in work.

Yokai Gojo and Sukuna

When they speak japanese it will be bold

Warnings: manipulation, behind the scenes murder, hidden angst

You were a fool for venturing out in the wilderness by yourself. Have you learned nothing from your grandmother?!

The sound of crows and cicadas vibrated around you as you walked through the forest. You were only out here for some berries, so how on earth did you get lost?

Your feet were bare and sore, and the sky was only getting darker as the sun lowered. Finally deciding that continuing to walk wouldn't help, you opt to climb a tree.

As you climbed further, you prayed that you wouldn't fall as numerous species of insects crawled throughout the tree and unfortunately on your hands and back.

Reaching a height great enough that you could see over the trees, you spot water in the distance. It was the river just east from your village and that was a promising sign that you weren't a complete idiot.

Climbing down the tree with less grace than you came, you head in the direction of the river, and soon the forest floor is shrouded in shadows as the sun finally sets. You hug yourself and press your arms close to your shaking body.

As you walked, you noticed warm light peeking through shrubbery ahead. You slowed your steps and walked with your feet at an angle. By some miracle, you avoided the sticks below you. "Wait till I tell father about this he'll have to let me hunt with him"

You grimace, "Assuming he'll let me leave home ever again after this" Thinking of your father put a sour taste in your mouth. The man loved you, truly, but the only way he deemed you safe is if you are at home all the time or if you are with your future husband at all times. One of which you were not ready for, and the other you'd rather not.

You got as close to the light as you could without being noticed, and crouched. Two men stood next to each other facing a fire in the opposite direction of you. Good, you could stay down wind. A rough voice spoke, but you were not able to understand the strange language he spoke.

They were tall and pale and the clothes they wore, was not of your region. The closest you could compare it to was the robes worn by the elders once they reached a certain age.

Their hair color was strange as well. The tallest one had hair the color of winter snow meanwhile the other's hair was pink like your mother's roses. They spoke more but you still couldn't understand what they were saying.

The one with white hair seemed familiar to you yet you couldn't quite place it. Either way, you didn't feel safe approaching them on your own so you decided to walk around.

You shift from one foot to the other and fall back on your bottom as something flies over your head. Looking behind, you saw a knife in a tree behind you.

"Screw this!" You whispered to yourself, taking off. You run blindly through the forest, jumping over fallen trees and on many occasions running on all fours when you fell down.

Fear should have been on your mind but all you could think of was how your mother would kill you when she saw the tears that were most likely forming on your clothes.

After you get a good distance, you stop and take in your surroundings. To your left, you gaze with wide eyes, at the reflection of the moon on the lake. Hopefulness filled your heart as you saw twinkling fire coming from your village in the distance.

You were finally home, is all you thought as you took a step forward. You freeze as a shiver goes down your spine and moments later, something wraps itself around your ankles, dragging you back into the dark forest.

You cover your face as you're dragged across the floor. It was a long while till you stopped and when you did, you found yourself back to the two men as they towered over you.

They looked down at you, well one did, the others eyes were covered and that scared you more than the man grinning sinisterly above you.

"Would you look at that, you got pretty far,, my vine couldn't even reach you till you stopped." The vine releases you and you quickly crawl back. "You should have kept running I love a good chase." The man with white hair grinned down at you, hands in the sleeves of his robe.

The pink haired man crouched in front of you, and you flinch as your see fangs flash in the fun light. "Demon." You whimper as you look at the smaller eyes surrounding his normal ones.

Black markings surrounded his face and down his chest that was strangely bare despite the cool air. "You like what you see?" While you couldn't understand him verbally, it was obvious that he was gloating.

You turn your face haughtily, "She doesn't speak Japanese." Gojo finally spoke up, looking at you with subtle interest. He recognized you from his visit to your village. Well it wasn't necessarily a 'visit' more like he watched from afar.

You had seen him before though, whether you knew it or not.

Gojo cleared his throat, "Can you tell us what you were doing in the bushes?" Your eyes widened at his ability to speak your language. While it was comforting, it was even more suspicious.

"I was going home, and your light caught my attention." You said calmly. It's best that they don't know you were lost. Your eyes darted to the pink haired man who stayed crouched in front of you.

He raises his hand towards you, and you swallow as his sharp nails come into view. "You're a pretty little thing aren't you?" You resist the urge to slap his hands away as he uses the back of his finger to caress your cheek.

These men are dangerous, one clearly more reckless than the other. All it took was one wrong move and you'd be on the receiving end of that danger. "I would like to be on my way, sorry for bothering you."

You stand up and take a few steps back. A warm chest stops your retreat and you look up to see the white haired man standing behind you. "What's the rush, can't we have a little fun? Look, if you entertain us a bit, we'll walk you home." The pink haired man said in a singsong voice.

You shook your head and walked around the white haired man. "No thank you, it's not that far." The white haired man shrugged and watched you walk away. "We really gonna let a good piece of ass like that go?" Sukuna grumbled as he watched the darkness swallow your form.

Gojo placed his hands behind his head, "She'll be back don't worry."

You walked in the direction you had before, but it seemed as if you were no closer to leaving the forest like before. You climbed a tree and saw the river once again and walked towards it. But it seemed as if you were truly making no moves towards it whatsoever.

After a while of sitting in the nerve racking darkness, you walk back in the direction of the men, hoping they haven't left yet. It was against your better judgement, but they were the only option you had left.

To your luck, they hadn't left and were tending to their own flames. When you came back into view, they looked up at you. And you tried to ignore the rose haired man's knowing smirk.

The white hair man, that you have come to trust more than the other, waved at you slightly as you got closer to the fire. "I thought you were going home?" You shrugged your shoulders embarrassed.

"I got lost." Both men humed with mock concern. The pink haired man walked towards you loosely. "That's not good, I'm sure your family is worried sick." You nodded absent-mindedly. An arm is slung around your shoulder and you lean into it, basking in the warmth.

"Well we can't have that now can we Gojo?" The pink haired man looked at the man next to you, Gojo. "No I don't think I'd be able to sleep easily if I left you alone, how about you Sukuna."

If one were to have looked up. One would have noticed a strangeness to the sky above. Almost as if being covered by a bubble the sky closed and got considerably darker.

A barrier. After all, wouldn't want anyone to hear you scream.

"So do you promise to entertain?" Sukuna held out his hand and you looked at it. The black lines wrapping around his arms seemed to move but you summed it up to being a truck of the light. "What kind of entertainment?"

Gojo squeezed your shoulders and you shivered as his warm breath brushed against your ear. "Nothing you won't enjoy as well, we're all adults here aren't we?" You could feel your face warm at the implications. "I-I don't think I can do that."

You go to stand and the barrier above stops. "Aw what a shame." Sukuna turns back around as if heading to sit down but stopping. "But how will you get home!?" You furrow your berries, weren't they still going to take you?

Gojo noticed your face, "Ah, my dear this is a world of give and take. So I'm afraid we can't do things without a price. But if you feel better off on your own figuring your way through the dark woods, then we respect your decision."

You didn't want to do that and they both knew it.

"What do you want in return?" Gojo and Sukuna shared a look with each other. Your eyes widened as Gojo's hand trailed down your back, drawing circles when it got just above your butt. "Just a little pleasure…mixed with a little pain." Sukuna's teeth shined in the fire's light.

"Pain?! Out here?!? No, anyone could see!" You stood up, Gojo following suit. He had yet to say anything but knew Sukuna could handle it.

Like a snake, the tatted man came close to you and held your chin as one arm wrapped around your waist. "Oh calm down sweet cheeks, a little pain never hurt anybody." He leaned forward closer to your neck and you suck in a breath as you feel him nibble on your earlobe. "I'll make sure of it."

Gojo pressed against your back, "Don't worry about being seen." He clicked his fingers and suddenly you found yourself shrouded in darkness. In the middle of said darkness, was a large bed with a bright sourceless light glaring down at it.

Hands are on you in an instant, and you are pulled into the bed with Sukuna behind you and Gojo in front.

Because you were only wearing short bottoms, your legs were easily accessible. Hot wet kisses are layed on your caves as Gojo travels up your body.

Sukuna was less attentive. Taking your face in a harsh grip and kissing you roughly. You squeaked as his thumb nail pierced your cheek. A red red stream of blood falls down your cheek and Sukuna laps it up like a starved animal.

"Be gentle with her." Gojo tutted at his rude counterpart who only scoffed. "Why should I when breaking them is the best part?!" Your neck was gripped tightly and forced you to watch Gojo nip at your clothed thighs. "You like that don't you?" You shook your head embarrassed as Gojo's hands went behind you, cupping your ass.

He skillfully massages them before tugging your pants down. "You're moving too damn slow Satoru."

Sukuna's rough voice made you turn as it vibrates against the shell of your ear. "Patience, wouldn't want to hurt them." "That's the point as far as I'm concerned."

Sukuna puts his hands under your shirt and goes to cup your small chest. "I usually prefer mine with a little more here but I guess you'll have to do." Your body twitches as Sukuna mercilessly pinches and pulls at your nipples till they became puffy.

You close your eyes as you feel Gojo's warm mouth cover your pussy. His tongue played with your lips before pushing farther. You were beyond wet at this point and his tongue was simply sinful.

Sukuna was starting to feel ignored, so it was no surprise when he made it known. He pushes at Gojo's head with his foot before turning you around to face him on your knees. Fingers swipe over your lips before trailing up to your head.

You wince as his fingers curl into your fro, pulling your face to his crotch. "Why don't you put that pretty mouth of yours to use?" You fumble clumsily with the soft cloth of his robes before finally finding the prize. You lost all nerve when you saw how thick it was.

Forget going inside of you, you doubt it could even fit in your mouth. Sukuna pressed your face closer, urging you to start. You stick your tongue out hesitantly and collect the salty fluids dripping out of the tip. Just from that small simulation, Sukuna groans lowly.

Gojo had long since resumed his meal, and the sounds leaving his mouth was obscene. You couldn't see it but Sukuna watched with curious eyes as Gojo's face developed into a bit of a red color as he pressed his mouth against you.

Faint whimpers could be heard from him and the vibrations shook your core the louder he got. "Hey Satoru what's with that face, you're moaning like a bitch." Gojo doesn't respond as he grips your thighs harder. Sukuna pressed your face closer to his dick and you have no choice but to take him in your mouth.

You bobbed your head as his hand guided you relentlessly. With his other hand, Sukuna leaned forward and tugged at Gojo's blindfold.

Gojo's face was just as lewd as the noises he made. His sky blue eyes were shining with unshed tears and Sukuna had never seen a man look as content. You stop sucking when something wet hits your lower leg.

Looking in between your thighs, Sukuna laughs as he sees Gojo helplessly humping the air as warm ropes of cum spurted from his exposed cock. Sakuna gripped Gojo's now limp hair and the snow blond man glared at him through his dazed eyes. "You really are a bitch aren't you?"

Gojo reached forward and gripped Sukuna's face just as harshly, "Yes but this bitch knows how to please a woman." With that, he kisses Sukuna, forcing his tongue past his lips and exploring his mouth.

You watched, mouth agape as the men showed such an intimate display of dominance. Sukuna's fingers trailed down your back as he tongue fucked Gojo. Gaining more dominance, Sukuna fluidly pushes Gojo back far enough that he could slip two of his fingers inside of you.

While it was uncomfortable due to his sharp nails, you couldn't help but get a thrill as they scraped against your walls. Sukuna jerks his head away, his ruby eyes flared with lust and confidence. "Let's see about that."

You find yourself on your back with your head hanging off of the bed as Sukuna takes place over you and Gojo stands above you. The white haired man was beyond red and his dick was fairing no better.

It was long and an angry purple, dripping with so much pre cum that it had made his dick slick and shiny.

As if under a spell you open your mouth and Gojo quickly slides inside, gripping the sheets next to your head tightly as he face fucks you. You gag profusely as the head relentlessly slides down your throat without stopping.

You bring your hands to grip his thighs to try and gain some bearing but that only spurs him on as his thrust became rougher, and the sound of you choking becomes rhythmic as drool collects in the corner of your mouth.

"What happened to treating her gently?" Sukuna smirks as he watches the skin around your neck bulge with each thrust. "S-Sorry, young lady, but your mouth is so fucking warm and tight." Gojo slows himself into a slow grind, tapping his fingers against the bulge in your neck. You finally get a chance to breathe through your nose.

Sukuna finger fucks you a little bit more, scraping his nails uncomfortably against the walls of your cunt. When he pulls them out, they are soaked and he licks his fingers clean, humming at the taste.

He positions himself at your entrance and pushes in without stopping. Your pained moan is muffled by the sound of Gojo's balls hitting your forehead but Sukuna still hears it and mutters out a quick apology as he goes slower. "Fu-ah~, what happened to breaking them?" Gojo said mockingly.

Sukuna glares before snapping his hips forward, sheathing himself completely inside of you. Your nails dug into Gojo's skin, and his hips stutterd as he moaned. Sukuna grips your chests and uses them for momentum as he opens you up on his dick. "For someone that was so reluctant, you sure are fucking wet down here."

Sukuna uses his thumb to circle your clit and your hips raised unapologetically from the shocks of pleasure. "Filthy little human." Sukuna laughed as he continued to play with your swollen clit.

Mixed with your lack of property oxygen, the boys running to your head, and the two sources of pleasure, your thighs shake and you cum around Sukuna's dick. He laughs darkly, speeding up his thrusts as he holds your limp legs in the air. "Yes, cum again. I want to feel your pathetic pussy squeeze my dick."

Gojo had stilled and was breathing heavily as he watched Sukuna disappear inside of you. "My turn." His still hard cock slips out of your mouth and you find yourself thrown into a coughing fit.

Sukuna begrudgingly switches spots with Gojo but takes joy in holding your head as he uses your mouth like a fleshlight. "Fuuuuuck. Perfect little mouth for me. I want you to swallow my cum wench!" You whined as Gojo pushes his cock inside of you.

It was longer than Sukuna's and you could already feel the soreness as the tip grazed against your cervix. Gojo adjusts your legs to rest on his shoulders as he folds you over.

The sensations are entirely too much as air is pushed out of you from the restricting position. The sensitive walls of your cunt both sucked and pushed Gojo's cock as he delivered deliberately slow strokes. "So messy down here." Gojo uses the palm of his hand to quickly swish at your clit.

Your brown legs tremble around your head and Sukuna uses this chance to grab your feet as leverage.

By now, your mouth had completely gone slack as he abused your throat, completely ignoring the scrape of your teeth around his shaft. "Fuck I'm gonna cum." Sukuna groans, speeding up. Gojo speeds up as well, "Shit me too, you better cum with me you two-faced bastard.!"

You grip the sheets for dear life and between you and me, you blacked out as the two filled your holes with milky cum. The tangling of body's unraveled and rested together as you all came down from your highs.

Well the boys did, you fell asleep.

They tuck you into the bed after Gojo changed the sheets. "So you said you can keep her in your zone?" Gojo nodded as he did his best to put your 4c hair into braids.

"Yeah, but what are we gonna do if she asks to go home." Sukuna smiled as he looked at his nails. Sinister later fills the empty abyss of Gojo's zone and the man looked boredly as Sukuna laughed.

"She can't go somewhere that no longer exists."

[skylarmoon71]

Donatello x Reader- Fanfiction Oneshot. (TMNT 2014-2016)

"Guys look what I invented!" Raph sighed when he saw you walking on the ceiling with your newest invention.

"She's at it again." he spoke, drawing in the attention of his other brothers. Donatello's eyes widened in amazement. "No way, you made gravity defying boots. "

You grinned from your upside down position, showing him a thumbs up. The beeping on your shoes made your smile drop. "Uh oh." the light changed from blue to red and you were now falling head first. 

"AHHHH!!!" 

Donatello rushed over, doing a flip and catching you mid air. His feet landed on the ground with a harsh thud, and you released a breath, holding unto him. "A-Are you alright!" he was surveying your body. All in all you seemed fine. You stared at him, admiring the beauty of his green eyes.

"I-I'm okay." your reply was said a bit shakily. Whether from the fall, or your slowly increasing heart beat, you couldn't tell. Donatello placed you on your feet, and Leonardo walked over, already preparing a speech. You knew that look on his face, he was about to scold you for your recklessness.

"(Y/N), you need to be careful. You could have gotten really hurt. What if we hadn't come in." You knew he was just concerned. Your head lowered. "I'm sorry Leo, I'll be careful next time." He raised his hand, patting you on the head softly. "It is pretty cool though." you looked up with a wide smile, fist pumping. Michelangelo was at your side in seconds, ready with an onslaught of questions. One of which probably included if he could borrow your boots.

Meeting the turtles was the best thing that happened to you. It was a real eye opener, that was for sure. You were an inventor at heart, testing out one of your creations. At the time you were just studying constellations and solar patterns. One night your panels picked up something strange. Whatever it was had a major energy source because it shorted your computer, as well as Donatello's equipment.

They'd been out on patrol while you were on the roof. And just ended up running into you. If your stuff hadn't overloaded Donnie's, they probably wouldn't have stopped to investigate. That was the first time you'd ever seen something so incredible. Of course when you saw them you fainted, from what you heard April had a similar reaction. But after that, when you came to, your curiosity got the better of you.

The fact that four huge mutant turtles were standing right in front of you seemed like the last thing you cared about. You just started asking questions. Like a scientist, you were inquisitive by nature. It wasn't long after that, you became quick friends with the turtles.

You and Donatello were especially close. He was just like you, always building and altering gear and technology, utilizing it to its maximum capacity. You were always helping him upgrade his inventions, and he'd give you ideas to create others to help the turtles protect the city. 

Being able to explore your interest with someone who loved technology just as much as you did was all you could really ask for. So whenever you weren't working, you were down in the lair, testing out your machinery. Your boots were something you'd been working on for weeks. Unfortunately it still needed a bit of tweaking, because the battery didn't retain as much power as you hoped.

"As soon as I get it up to speed I'll lend it to you Mikey." That was all he needed to hear.

"Boyah!! I got first dibs guys!" he was already running off cheering. You pulled the boots off, studying it. "I may have to alter the size as well."

"So how was patrol?" You asked surveying your equipment.

"Nothing we couldn't handle." Raph said boastful, biting down on the toothpick at the corner of his mouth.

"I'm sure. Well while you guys were gone I ordered pizza." That was all you needed to say because pretty soon they were all headed to the other room to devour their favorite food. You laughed at how quickly the room cleared. Splinter walked out, his tail swishing slowly behind him.

"(Y/N), it's always nice to have you with us. However I'd advised against indulging my sons in that unhealthy food." He probably regretted ever introducing them to it, because it seemed like that was all they ever ate.

"Even if I didn't you know they'll still get their hands on some." he sighed.

"I suppose you're right." He looked at you like there was something else he needed to say.

"Is there something wrong?" He shook his head, a smile gracing his lips.

"I'm just very grateful for you." the statement caught you by surprise.

"T-Thank you Master Splinter." It really did mean a lot to you that he thought so.

"I should be the one thanking you. Not many people are willing to accept my sons. They are extraordinary, but society has a very focused view on what is right and wrong. This world could use more people like you and Ms. O' Neil." you could understand where he was coming from.

"I know what you mean. Growing up I dealt with my fair share of ridicule. I guess to the other kids I was always just weird. " At a young age you'd seen things different. While kids were playing on slides and swings, you were solving mind puzzles and complex math sums. Technology was easier for you to figure out that people.

You glanced at the turtles eating happily from the other room talking among themselves. Your gaze lingered on the purple clad one maybe a little longer than necessary. When you realized you turned back to Splinter, who was wearing a suspicious smile.

"I'll leave you to it then." and with that he was walking away, hands behind his back.

"Hmmm?" 

Sometimes you wished you could read his mind.

"Hey (Y/N), come and get a slice before they devour all." Donatello's words made you run over.

"Save some for me!" You spent a while wrestling to get a slice. Dropping down next to Donatello. her persisted to tell you some of the upgrades he was thinking of making in the lair. His computer set up was pretty impressive already, but just because something worked didn't mean it couldn't be further modified. Donnie was always thinking ahead.

"Just imagine if we made four of those boots of yours!" he sounded excited, letting out a laugh and a cute little snort. You paused for a second, and he pushed up his glasses, a little embarrassed at the sound that left him. You watched him with glowing red cheeks.

"OH MY GOODNESS WHY IS HE SO CUTE!!!"

If you hadn't already swallowed your pizza you would have probably choked on it.  Who knew the nerdy little turtle would have such an effect on you.

~~~~

Mikey was patting his stomach, clearly content. You smiled, gathering the empty boxes of pizza to carry to the trash. Donatello caught you struggling with about seven boxes, still trying to stack more. "Let me help you." you nodded, and he took a couple from your hand, following you out the room. You walked with him, a comfortable silence gathering.

"What were you and Sensei talking about earlier, it looked pretty serious." His question caused you to slow down a little.

"Umm, not much. He was just saying he's glad I'm around. He also said I should stop buying so much pizza for you guys." you gestured to the boxes in your hand, causing a shy smile to rise on Donnie's face.

Upon reaching the trash area, you dumped the boxes in the bin. Donnie did the same.

"Well I am glad you're here." you looked over at Donnie, who suddenly seemed a bit flustered. 

"I-I mean we're all glad you're here." he corrected, fidgeting. You watched him fiddle, your heart giving a slow flutter. Donnie really was the cutest. Maybe it was the glasses, but every time he looked at you, your chest would constrict in the most pleasant way. Hearing him say he enjoyed having you around was another plus. It did give you slight hope. Maybe he reciprocated your feelings. "I'm glad too." you replied, skipping back to the lair. Donnie's eyes followed as you moved through the sewer, a content feeling settling in his chest.

~~~

"Hey Raph, Leo." you waved at both brothers entering. Raph looked up from tying the bandages around his hand, greeting you. "Hey what's up."

"Not much, I just needed to borrow some material for a something I'm thinking about. Where is Donnie?" At the mention of his name, Raph moved closer, dropping a hand on your shoulder as he leaned in. "You know, you always run to Donnie's room whenever you get here. I'm starting to wonder if ya have a little thing for him." you sputtered, backpedaling.

"W-What No! That's No!" you shouted. Your yells earned a look from Leo, who was now very curious.

"If you're looking for Donnie he's in the training room with Mikey." Leo said almost on instinct. Did he know as well that you always gravitated to Donnie. How could you be so obvious? And here you thought you were covering your little crush well. You frowned at the smug look Raph sent you, putting his toothpick back in his mouth as you basically sprinted out the room, cheeks quickly turning red.

"Stupid Raph."

If he figured it out, maybe Donnie did too. What if he knew the entire time and just didn't say anything. 

"That's crazy, stop it stupid brain!" you tried to rid the thoughts. You did like Donnie, but if he found out and things got awkward, you wouldn't be able to deal with that.

When you got to the training room, you froze at the door, just staring. Mikey and Donnie were sparring. You stood watching every move, flip, punch that Donnie delivered. Sometimes you forgot that he wasn't just smart, but also a very skilled fighter. The way he attacked so efficiently, carefully calculating every hit, retaliating with his bo staff. Your heart was definitely pounding now.

"He's incredible."

You weren't sure how long they had been going at it, but after a few more minutes they stopped. Donnie had successfully knocked Mikey off his feet. "I win." Donnie said with a cute little grin.

He held out his hand, and Mikey took it, standing to his feet. They high fived and that's when their focus was drawn to you.

"(Y/N)?" Donnie called in question. You were still standing there gawking. You blinked a couple times, then cleared your throat.

"N-Nice moves." you commended. Mikey puffed out his chest. "Well you know, what can I say, gotta impress the ladies. " At this point he was flexing every muscle on his body, yet all you could see was the thin layer of sweat Donnie was wiping off his forehead. The action made his biceps bulge. A short breath left you. You licked your lips, enjoying the sight of his very muscular body. You swallowed, hoping you weren't being too obvious. Because right now you couldn't help it. Someone so adorably hot shouldn't be allowed to live on the planet.

"This should be a crime."

Somehow Donnie had moved without you realizing, because he was directly in front of you, adjusting his glasses to check your vitals. "(Y/N) do you have a fever!" He sounded worried.

"Your heart rate is elevated as well as your temperature. Not to mention how red your cheeks are. You need to lie down. " he didn't give you a chance to argue, picking you up and carrying you to his room.

When he stepped in he laid you on the bed gently, before turning and searching around his room for medicine. He picked up a packet of tablets, as well as a bottle of water, dropping it on the desk, moving back to get a piece of cloth. When he got back to you he was unscrewing the cork of the bottle to wet the cloth. 

"Just lay down and I'll-" because he'd been bouncing around so quickly you weren't able to stop him. Now that he was sitting right next to you, you took his hand, halting his actions.

"Donnie, I'm fine. I don't have a fever." His head tilted to the side. He pulled back down the goggles to scan you again. When he raised it, he looked confused. "I-It's back to normal. But you were just really warm. How did it go down so quickly. " he put down the bottle, still sitting on the ground before you. He reached over, placing his hand to your neck. He really was a sweetheart.

"The reason I was so warm wasn't because I have a fever."

"Then why?" he asked.

"It's..because of you Donnie.." you breathed.

"Because of me?" As smart as he was, he probably wouldn't figure out what you were trying to say. Your legs dangled off the edge of the bed. With you sitting upright, and Donnie on the floor, you were right about his height from your position. 

Throwing caution to the wind, you leaned forward, hands smoothening over his shoulders. Donnie just sat there, clearly alarmed at how close you were getting. You closed the space between you, eyes shut tightly as you pressed your lips to his. You didn't stay connected long. After a few seconds you pulled back to gauge his reaction. Truth is you weren't sure what type of reaction he would have, but you were tired of hiding how you felt.

"I love you Donatello."

"I said it!"

Donnie was still silent, you sort of expected as much. He just stared at you. When he finally did speak, it came out hesitantly. "Y-You...love me..?" you nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. "I do." you confessed. He was quiet again, and you wished you could read what his eyes were telling you, because it was lost on you. 

Despite that, you reached up slowly, taking off his glasses so you could get a better look at his gorgeous eyes. You placed them on the bed next to you, moving over to sit right between his legs. Now that you had a clearer view of Donnie's eyes, you noticed that they were dilated. That fact just made your heart pick up. You leaned in again, wrapping your hand around his shoulders this time as you kissed him.

This kiss was slower, passionate. You were conveying everything he made you feel since you'd met him. Every time he made your heart beat spike, pulse quicken, breath hitch.

All your emotions combined in one, just for him. When his muscled arms moved around your body, you swooned. You could tell he was cautious, because with his strength he could easily hurt you. Donnie held you softly, earning an appreciative sound from your throat. He finally started to respond, eyes closing, pulling you as close as you could get. Pretty soon you were gripping at his body, kisses hot and heavy.

All your pent up energy was coming out. You were shocked you were able to go so long without oxygen. The way you were kissing him made him lightheaded. It was if he were the air you needed to breathe. Your tongue darted out, hands moving to the back of his head to keep him right where you wanted him. 

You were moaning softly, brows furrowing as you tasted him. So sweet, just like his adorable personality. Your hands ventured over his plastron, and this time Donnie moaned. The sound caused your stomach to coil in anticipation. When you finally pulled away, you were gasping in mouthfuls of air. Donnie did the same, chest heaving in equal pace to yours. As you tried to catch your breath, your eyes stayed trained on his soft lips. Partially wet with saliva from your most recent session.

"I...had no idea that you.." his sentence was incomplete, due to his panting, but you could put the words together. He obviously wasn't aware of your feelings. This entire time he'd been pining after you, and you'd felt the same way. Donnie scolded himself for not saying something earlier. All along he could have been kissing your deliciously plump lips.

"I'm sorry it took so long." you spoke. Now that your breathing returned to normal. You could think a bit clearer. He shook his head.

"It's okay.I-I just thought that because I'm a mutant and you're..you're.." he didn't finish the sentence, eyes moving to the floor.

"I never saw the need to try.." he lamented. His broken tone really made you want to cry. Of course he was insecure. He was a mutant turtle. You guessed he just expected everyone to judge him for what he was. You reached over, lifting his eyes to you.

"I don't care what you are Donnie. In my eyes, you're just.." you paused, looking for the right words. There were way too many to describe him. So you just settled for the first ones to pop into your head.

"Incredibly hot." you whispered. He gulped, obviously noticing the growing need in your eyes. You leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Intelligent." you pressed another kiss, this time a bit lower. 

"Caring," a kiss to his neck. "Sexy." you were trailing kisses down his neck, and Donnie was having a very difficult time keeping his heart rate under control. Your head lifted, and this time you kissed him firmly on the lips. "Mine." you thought.

You stayed there, safe in his arms, exchanging long overdue kisses. People in this society would probably never accept what he was, but you'd love him, no matter what. And at the moment, that's all he could really care about.

[joelmillerthirstqz]

From this prompt: Joel meets y/n and he makes it his MISSION to fuck her. Throw in a daddy kink if you’re brave

(I did, with ten thousand character-intensive caveats. Porn with obligatory plot, is there a tag for that? Anyway have some suspiciously assertive Joel)

---

Joel moves throughout the rooms of his house, picking up one occupation after the next, bored around one in the afternoon and faced with the reality that he neither remembers nor knows what to do with actual free time, safety, and space of his own. Tommy and Maria had brought some kind approximations of traditional housewarming, but much of his home was furnished by the previous resident and he sat there overwhelmed by spatial possibility. For all his griping about Ellie’s perpetual stream-of-consciousness chattering, the silence roared in his ears like he’d been dragged downstream.

Do people just go drink now? Just talk to each someone to pass the time? he thinks to himself, frustrated. By the time he could legally go to a bar, he’d been twenty-one and Sarah had been three, her mom long gone. He hadn’t spent time alone since the outbreak—always Tommy or Tess and others in between nearby. Acute problems to solve, no time for chronic reflection.

Tommy brought a lone box of possessions from his apartment with a case of cheap beer the night Sarah’s mom left, hanging around more tangibly than any other family had and often taking Sarah to school once Sarah was old enough. Tommy joked that it was more like Joel having two kids to deal with; Joel ribbed him for perpetually flirting with the very clearly married moms of his niece’s classmates.

Joel gulps a breath, self-flagellating with the idea that he hadn’t been able to protect Sarah when Tommy and Maria so clearly deserved to have their own child, forgetting as ever that his brother executed the soldier that shot Sarah before he could get to Joel—without a blink.

Wonderful. That’s what you do alone with your thoughts for two seconds. Jesus, Joel, he grumbles inwardly.

He’d been dragged to so many damn things since settling in Jackson and didn’t know what to do when it was his choice, so he looks outside. If Ellie’s light is on, he’ll go awkwardly try to make conversation, see if she’s okay. If she’ll be caught in a forgiving mood; if not, if he’s really pushing it.

Joel’s boots thud softly on the flagstone they’d carefully laid together, a path for her to get up to the house without soaking her sneakers through. Tonight, though, she’s gone or playing dead, so he sighs and shrugs a coat on, headed for the Tipsy Bison.

————

Joel spent a nontrivial amount of his time lately fending off interested parties in Jackson.

It was just cuffing season, he dismissed—encroaching fall making people a little weird. Since he’d begun to settle in, slowly accustoming himself to having Ellie out of his sight often and a normal couch in a house without shattered windows, he’d slowly accepted more public interactions. He’d grudgingly shoulder into town meetings, quiet until Tommy or someone else would put a question to him like he had a fucking clue.

Joel went on patrol, helping some of the greener residents learn to keep themselves safe. Unfortunately, it meant more people caught sight of him. Joel was used to prowling through quarantine zones swollen with cowering masses plainly terrified of him, which left him minimally prepared for reactions he thought he’d stopped evoking long ago.

The people whose breath hitch when they first notice him, the longing stares when he’d finally break and smile or laugh—they’d gotten embarrassing enough for him to avoid certain places.

Whenever Joel seems like he’s about to not comply with her wishes, Maria frequently threatens to tell the women who ask her in lewd tones if Tommy has a brother the truth—he does, and how about I introduce you?

The truth was he didn’t feel capable of starting anything with someone who’d ask where he’d been. Joel didn’t want to remember, even if he’d finally pinned the picture of himself with Sarah at a soccer game up next to the blooming collection of pictures in his living room with Ellie, Polaroids in Jackson blooming over nearby wall space every few weeks. People who wanted honesty to go with their peaceful existence reminded him too much of Tommy’s near-fatal optimism, and he felt like it would be too dishonest to start anything with anyone who still lost sleep over distasteful things done to survive. Delightful first-date baggage, in his estimation.

At the Tipsy Bison, he edges in by the drinking patrol nearest the door, welcomed gruffly and responding the same. It was nice to be recognized without raw fear or calculation as he entered, and Joel warms enough to drop his coat over the back of his chair, his rust-colored flannel’s buttons parting over the shirt beneath it as he moves, listening to Eugene tell some inflated war story with an almost-cold beer.

“Alright, fuck this. Knuckle up, asshole, I’m not doing this on patrol tomorrow,” Joel’s ears perk up at the sound of your chair clattering backwards as you stand. Joel recognizes you from the newer batch of arrivals, clearly deemed capable enough to join an early patrol just days after your arrival.

“Jesus, settle the fuck down,” one of the younger patrolmen grouses, standing up. Alex. Oh, the dumb kid.

“Nope. Now or never,” you insist.

“Listen, I’m not hitting you,” he sounds unapologetic but tries to portray himself as the reasonable party. He’s wiry, and Joel’s seen him fend for himself, but his posture doesn’t belie cool confidence.

“You clearly have some doubts, so let’s get into it,” you urge, agitated beyond belief. He’d been needling you about perceived skill, something about not growing up having to field dress animals, and you’d fucking had it. He was going to make a point on patrol and get someone hurt, and you were not carrying bodies back into Jackson because of some ego or misplaced crush.

He taps your shoulder mockingly with a closed fist, a gentle little motion, trying to smile playfully.

You hook him across the jaw, staggering him before taking a knee to his stomach as he tries to right himself.

“More, or you’re finished?” you ask.

Joel fully sits up in his chair. He hasn’t seen anything like this in Jackson. Glancing over both shoulders for his brother, Maria, and finding a clear coast he watches the outcome with interest, sipping his beer with an upturned mouth.

You’re cute, or appealing, or some reflexive word Joel hadn’t used in years, pushing hair out of your eyes as you regain your center.

Alex tries to sweep your legs out, successfully swiping one and getting a knee to the diaphragm for it as you land.

“Okay, fuck, I’m done,” he grunts and you rise easily, offering him a hand.

“Good,” you mumble, letting go the second he’s righted. You look around a little chastened by all the eyes on you, deciding to forego another round.

“I’m going to bed before we do this again,” you nod at Alex, and the rest of the patrol group you recognize in turn.

Joel eyes you as you depart, beer polished off and goodbyes waved, coat gripped in his fist to be flung on once outside. He knows your name, had seen you near the stables and conversing with the patrols. Hearing you speak, despite the context, maybe because of it, let him confirm something he’d been suspecting when he caught glimpses of you before. Never having had the right circumstances or raw spare time to devote all his energy to taking someone to bed, he steels himself to confirm it.

He trots after you, tugging his jacket back on and finding his way to the four-story hotel the town had spent arduous time clearing, stripping of spores, and making hospitable enough for people new to Jackson. Joel ended up leading a lot of the effort himself, vaguely proud to be doing something other than dismantling things, stretching old skills. Your little corner balcony faces off of one side, a nice view of the town unfolding as people begin to switch lights on for a sooner-than-yesterday sundown. You’re appreciative of a strange little luxury—not sure when the last time you stood with your back to a door without anticipating some infected would burst through.

You lean your elbows on the railing, a flask of whisky tipping in your fingers as you watch Jackson light up, a lone figure’s long strides coming into view down the broad street. The night is cool against your skin, but the little shiver the breeze causes feels affirming.

You’d always loved the fall, and Jackson’s soft sounds of life feel unreal enough that you could never sit here just sobering up before bed. It would leave you too wired, buzzing with the anxiety of certain impermanence. Reconciling this liminal zone with the gnashing horror just beyond it wasn’t something you’d take on without help. If Jackson was only a passing reprieve, you had to make yourself calm enough to enjoy it.

Joel halts below where you’re standing, hands on his hips pulling his jacket open as he looks up at you.

You’re instantly sheepish—you’d guessed in whatever patrol hierarchy there was, he was rather important. And you’d just visibly beaten someone down.

“Alex okay?” you call.

“He’ll be peachy. Not here for that,” Joel retorts, low drawl pleasant.

“Well,” you shrug, gesturing to the two mismatched chairs on the balcony with your flask. “Allow me to be a gracious host.”

He smiles and looks down for a moment. Even a couple of stories above him, you can see his height, start to assess his proportions because you’re too tipsy to be a human fucking being about your first interactions in a good place. You quickly add up a sum: his legs are long, shoulders broad, hair long enough to tug on. His frame suggests complete capability and you have a dire need to test it.

Aw, fuck.

“Y’know, I’ve got real glasses for drinking that,” Joel insinuates before he can tell himself to shut the fuck up, or to stop harassing newcomers, or any other sensible thought.

“Fair enough,” you call, closing your flask and holding a finger up to signal that he should wait.

When you arrive downstairs, boots poorly laced and denim jacket barely enough for the chill, Joel’s leaning on the veranda of the whole structure. You suppose its fair to gawk in appreciation so you do, assuring yourself you could have chosen not to.

“Look, I’m not going to ask what this is, and you won’t ask why I’m saying yes, okay?” you say softly when you’re a couple of feet from him.

Joel raises his eyebrows, feeling untethered. Some corner of him expected to humiliate himself to death so he could go home and fall asleep barely after dark, anything to shut himself up until he was occupied again. His heart speeds a little at your reply, hand on the back of his neck as he pushes back onto both feet.

“I’m close,” Joel offers, hand down towards the street, fists quickly in his own pockets. You pull your bottom lip inward, looking at his profile, wanting to hear it again, lower, helpless.

You pass the walk in tense but not unpleasant silence, glancing at each other until you reach his porch and he edges in to unlock his door.

Turning on lights as you toe off your boots and follow him inside, you watch how he moves, past the need for any type of persuasion. He returns from the kitchen with two matching, unchipped short glasses and a cylindrical glass of amber liquid.

“Trade?” Joel asks setting the bottle down and closing an open window. Your mouth quirks.

“That’s a nice custom. It a Jackson thing?” you ask, tipping your flask into his glass as he returns and pours from the bottle for you.

He laughs, sharp hazel eyes jumping up to you and back down, hand running over his beard.

“Not sure. What else would you do?”

You drop onto one of the two couches, arranged in the way that says people actually spend time here together. Joel gets onto his knees to build a fire, definitely a necessity, though kind of needlessly sweet for the occasion.

“This?” you tease, gesturing between the two of you. Joel joins you on the same couch, heat radiating into the space around you, well before the spark in the fireplace could catch enough to reach you.

You take stock of each other in comfortable silence, and a slow grin moves from one side of your face to the other. You finish your drink with a tinge of shyness, setting it down as he does the same.

You have no warning before his mouth is on yours, hands on either side of your face. It’s achingly good to be kissed with complete attention, luxury of time changing the entire tenor of kissing another person. You’re grounded to who’s holding you, mouth accepting him as Joel leads, guiding your jaw where he wants it with the flat of his palm. Joel moves slowly, plenty of time for you to reciprocate his motions though you begin to shift closer, scant sense of rhythm keeping you from straddling his hips.

The taste of him and your anticipatory haze keeps you fixed on the kiss, his hands sliding lower and beginning to move you towards his lap.

You try not to break the kiss with a smile, but it happens anyway and he looks up curiously. You sit back on your heels and tear through the buttons of your jacket, tossing it over the back of the couch and stroking fingernails through his beard before beginning the kiss again. Joel tugs you closer by the hip, urging you into his lap. He scans your face intensely, pulling you fully against him and letting his hands run the expanse of your back.

You can feel how rough his hands are through your shirt, so your fingers fly to his to work the buttons of his flannel.

“Christ,” you roll your eyes, exposing a second shirt underneath. He chuckles warmly in his chest, your foreheads bowed together a moment.

“C’mon,” Joel mutters, broad hands under each of your thighs as he rises with you wrapped around him. A segment somewhere in your brain shimmers, clicking with the novel experience, a knockout strike in the lane of neurons igniting to remember their roles.

“Where’s c’mon?” you ask incoherently between kisses, moving your mouth to his neck so he can answer. You think regretfully that it’s probably substantially warmer down here, fire catching nicely.

“Upstair—” Joel cuts off, your teeth nipping his pulse point.

You feel his heart jump against your mouth and your chest at once. You kiss him slowly as he takes you upstairs, stopping halfway up. He pushes you against the banister and deepens the kiss, hard length made clear. Shifting you closer to his waist once you resume, Joel’s hands creep a little higher, fingertips edging up as they dig in.

As you reach his bedroom, you have one hand hooked in the bottom seam of his shirt, ready to pull it off as he tries to set you down. Joel grunts when you tangle his broad shoulders in it, getting free and discarding it agilely. He bears down on you under dark lashes, chest rising and falling noticeably. The chill upstairs dissolves quickly as you twine together, hands running over his chest. It’s impressively broad and defined, thickening line of hair leading into his jeans.

You strip out of your two shirt layers with a casual roll of your upper body. Joel’s rapt eyes dragging over every rib leave you feeling exposed until his hands cover your breasts, mouth on your neck. You try to tug the rest of him towards the bed by the belt loops, but get frustrated and try to unclasp his belt instead.

Joel stoops to claw quickly at his boots, both thrown one handed before coming to rest against the wall. He hasn’t taken his eyes from you as you rise to slip your jeans down, one hand already curled back around your waist. He spreads his other hand across your abdomen, callused fingertips making you shudder appreciatively. Shoving you back, Joel gets to his knees with one of your legs hooked over his shoulder, grasped in his palm, kissing down your thigh. His free hand still moves over the rest of you.

Your mind is blankly focused on the rasp of his beard inside your legs. If you were honest, head wasn’t a frequent priority after the outbreak, sex usually a time-sensitive stress fix—for everyone. Add to that the average skill of the college peers you’d fucked before and, well, you’d only ever mildly enjoyed it.

Joel sucks your clit into his mouth, hard, and you arc off the bed. He moves without an ounce of uncertainty, shifting and roughly positioning you for the best angle as he goes. Being pursued like this, by a person who squarely checks boxes you didn’t know were empty left you wet enough to take him the moment you’d been out of your pants. His tongue pushes inside of you, followed quickly by one finger and then another, static but wonderful. You writhe on the bed at the feeling, low hum of a chuckle skittering across your sensitive skin.

One hand in the sheets, your other makes it into his hair. You grind against him without being able to help it, riding the stretch of his fingers as his tongue laves forceful circles around your clit.

“Fuck,” you try to grit out, embarrassed by the disassembled breathiness of your voice. It’s more a sigh as he curls his fingers within you, hazel flicking up to watch your reaction. You paw at his shoulders blindly, wanting him closer, wanting to fuck him, trying to pull back from him to tell him. He’s deadset in his focus, teeth softly grazing you in reply to your attempt.

“Can you just—” Joel grumbles, rising,“—be good for one goddamned second—” he yanks you towards him by your ankle.

“This where you want me to tell you to make me?” you tease, sitting up in his lap and wrenching him closer with your legs.

He huffs a small laugh, making to kiss you, but you hold him back.

“I want you to make me, okay?” You say seriously, grasping the hair at his nape to emphasize it.

Joel leans forward, biting your lip with care.

“Alright,” he confirms, hands around your jaw. You taste yourself on him, and a near-growl ripples through him, evident through his chest pressed against yours.

You duck away from his kiss, not caring to get his jeans off before getting a hand around his cock, your mouth enclosing the tip before you can register how much there is to take.

“Christ,” he breathes, eyes shut, face turned towards the ceiling. As your hand becomes slick enough to work over his shaft, his hands stabilize in your hair, bunching. You feel him flex in your mouth as he parts his lips and tugs on your hair, hauling you up level with his face.

“You don’t get to end it now,” Joel smiles, mouth almost against yours. You smile at the rough motion, hot interest skipping down your spine. His opposite hand is running over your chin while he composes himself, far closer than he’d wanted to be at this point.

You bite his fingers, pulling two deftly in to suck and keeping his gaze. His pupils darken and you feel a surge of pride at the same time as you feel him shove you back onto the bed, tearing his jeans off and finally joining you. Joel covers you, kissing you roughly and pulling your thighs around his hips, on his knees. He sheathes inside you without resistance, groaning and bowing his head at first. Even ready, he stretches you noticeably and you gasp at his first experimental thrusts, dragging your hips up to his each time.

You rise up to meet him, nails dug into his shoulders for traction, meeting his thrusts.

Joel hisses more in chastisement than discomfort at it, smacking your ass curiously.

“You know I’m not delicate,” you say close to his ear, snapping the lobe between your teeth unnecessarily hard.

“Shit, ow—” he grumbles, smacking you harder. You moan at the feeling, spread over his lap and trawling nails down his back. You tug where you’ve latched on, moving lower and biting his neck. He does it again, rolling his hips as you clench down on him. You scrape your teeth over his shoulder. Joel hits you again, force of it stinging how you’d hoped.

You provoke him to continue, pulling his hair, hard, and biting the skin over his collarbone.

Joel fists your hair and tugs back hard, exposing your throat to him even as you keep riding him, spanking you with almost musical timing. You almost draw blood scratching your nails out of his hair to the nape of his neck, grinning from your forced angle as he pants under you.

Joel leans forward and nips carefully over your larynx, clamping down hard on tendons just next to it. It’s a brash spot to suck a bruise into, and even the less visible parts of your body would surely be screaming on patrol in the morning.

You cry out, nerves and instinctive reaction to teeth near your neck making your heart and your cunt clench.

Joel flips you without effort, pressing a palm against your lower back to shove you into the mattress. You feel him strike your ass, once, twice, three times, and then his fingers are at your entrance, coaxing your hips to tilt up. He brushes his knuckles against you, leaning over to breathe into your ear.

“Here?”

“What did I just say?” You retort, appreciative of his caution but entirely sold on the possibility that walking will hurt tomorrow.

Joel doesn’t reply but you can see him roll his eyes from the corner of yours as he swats your cunt, hard, sensation shattering across your skin. You moan and he takes the initiative to do it again. Your shoulder blades pinch together around his hand, veering up with it. You turn your face entirely into the bed, muffling moans and faux-objections as he works, tenderness rising to the surface of your skin.

You feel Joel’s hands harshly grasp handfuls of your ass the second before he thrusts into you again, the force pinning you to the bed. He fucks you hard for long minutes, sweat building between you enough to make his hands slip. Joel’s forearm slides around your front and pulls you back against his chest.

You immediately claw at his arm, grateful to anchor yourself to him directly, pushing your hips down against his as he falls back to a gentler pace. His mouth reaches your shoulder and your hand flies to his hair again, straining to kiss him. Maybe it was weird to seek him like that—could still be a fantastic, unattached fuck—but Joel kisses you with this unerring focus that already makes you hope it will happen again.

“Takin’ me perfectly,” he drawls, some enunciation falling away with his blood coursing like this. You want to keep hearing him, so you nod and resume kissing him.

“More delicate than you thought? Need a break?” Joel taunts, and your eyes narrow as he speaks low and close, still thrusting shallowly.

“You want it hard again?” Joel teases, fingers skimming your stomach to roll your clit between them his thumb and index. It pinches and you suck in a breath, your hips floundering against his patient rhythm.

Your eyes spark and you decide to push.

“Yes, daddy,” you mock, almost sneering at him.

A dim recollection of a girl he’d briefly seen after Sarah’s mom left dusts itself off, and he reconnects dots that drifted apart from disuse after the outbreak. Joel raises his eyebrows at you and tips his head as if to say, “Well, alright then.”

You’re on your hands and knees before you can react, his hand spanning across your collarbones, bracing you against his repeated impact. Joel’s breathing becomes ragged each time he slides home, folding over you again to spill an endless wave of questions into your ear. His fingers are smoother across your clit now, drawing soaked concentric circles as you hitch.

“That’s it, baby girl,” Joel punctuates with a snap of his hips.

“You gonna come for me just like this?” Again.

“Come around my cock like a good girl?” Again, rough.

You moan, dropping to your elbows as he pounds into you, orgasm building inside of you spilling over to his fingers’ stimulation, a low groan meeting yours. You’re past words and shivering on the edge of climax when he taps your jaw.

“Focus up, c’mon,” he rumbles in your ear, demanding your attention. The pressure of his length against the tension inside of you has your vision blurring at the edges.

“Tell me,” Joel demands, pulling out halfway.

“Yes! Please, please,” you hear yourself sound panicky at the threat of losing his touch.

“Not what I asked you, baby,” he goads, nipping softly across your shoulders. His hand hasn’t stilled, and you know your eyes are rolling with the distracting pleasure of it.

“Yes, yes I will, please—”

“Tell me what,” he slips in an inch, voice shaky with thin control, fingers flexing where they meet your skin.

“Come for you, please don’t stop,” you plead, trying to shove your hips back to to meet his.

“That’s it, baby girl,” Joel murmurs and you break, quivering against his fingers and fussing with effort and relief. Your cheeks and mouth bloom red as your eyes droop with the onslaught of endorphins, still cresting as you feel Joel’s hips snap in quick succession, burying himself deep and making the best, most broken noise you could have hoped for. Even deep in your own fog, you reach for him, finding his mouth as it seeks yours again, aftershocks rolling through him.

Joel rolls onto his back, tugging you along one side. You don’t much enjoy being pinned if you weren’t also being penetrated, so the intimacy of lying there like lovers with someone you’d barely glimpsed, much less talked to, was unsettling.

Joel laughs like it’s easy for him, face lighting up with the motion, hand stroking your hair behind your ear.

“What?” You ask, propping yourself up on an elbow.

“Just surprised you said yes,” he clarifies. “I’m don’t—this isn’t a usual Wednesday for me,” he clears his throat.

You analyze his expression for a second, looking for the deceit and just finding something genuine and suspiciously shy for having nearly spanked you to orgasm minutes ago.

“You don’t accost every vulnerable newcomer and ply them with good whisky?” You prod, draping yourself over his chest, an easy negotiation of legs happening without either of you needing to acknowledge it.

“Bourbon, and, just the ones who start fistfights, really,” he teases, hands drifting over you, hungry warmth reaching his eyes as the afterglow begins to recede.

“Come downstairs?” Joel asks, like you weren’t tangled up in his bedsheets, surrounded and willingly captive to whatever he wanted.

“That was the original plan,” you protest, peering around for his shirt and slipping into it.

He smirks and kisses the tip of your nose, pausing and tipping your chin up to kiss you properly.

God damn it, you think. Oh, god damn it.

[moeruhoshi]

Never Hit a Girl

Never hit a girl. His father told him that as soon as he met Erza. But Igneel learned that soon after, he probably couldn’t even land a hit on her if he tried.

Never hit a girl unless they’re Erza. It was a much easier rule for the fledgling to understand. He had no will to hit Levy or Juvia, even if they hit him first. There probably wouldn’t be another girl in this world that he would want to hit.

Or so he thought for a few years. But there was a girl, Lucy Heartfilia. She came to live in Magnolia when they were about nine or so.

It’s not like he saw her in the park one day and wanted to outright tackle her. She didn’t really come anywhere near him, anyhow. She was Cana’s friend, and over the years got closer to the other girls in their friend group.

Lucy wasn’t all that used to guys and was kind of scared of them after she saw them play-fighting in the park. So they didn’t push it with her and lived just kind of knowing her for a little while. Erza took that time in between them meeting to strengthen her up, of course. Because the guys weren’t so scary once they were cowering under your fist, so she said.

Per the redhead’s rule, they didn’t even try talking to her until she was ready.

It was strange for her to be wary even as the years went on, but Levy summed up a large part of it for them.

Even if she were still scared, she would have approached them eventually. Not two or three years, she was probably fine after about a week of seeing them around. But she had a strict dad that didn’t want her stepping out of line, so she made it apparent not to gain any male friends. For their safety and her own.

If Lucy were really all that terrified, she wouldn’t have made sure the guys got chocolates on Valentine’s Day. Or gifts on their birthday. Indirect things that Cana passed along.

It was sweet in an odd way, Natsu’s smile always turned up halfway when he got something from her.

She knew he was a dragon, so his snacks were always overly spicy.

By then, they were all fourteen, still unable to speak casually together.

That’s when Natsu started noticing these strange voices. They were his own inner thoughts, but at the same time they felt separate from him. Like a mischievous voice trying to coax him into doing something dangerous. Which he couldn’t help really wanting to do.

Back to the main point at hand, he didn’t just want to hit Lucy. It was a little weird, but he really wanted to wrestle with her.

And no, that wasn’t just some replacement word for sex.

He had heard how strong she was, how Erza had secretly trained her to become almost as deadly as herself. So he was curious.

If she could pin him, if he could pin her. How he’d block a punch of hers, if she could block one of his.

He wanted to wrestle her to the ground and just...let her toss him back on his ass.

What the fuck was that though? He was upset with that kind of thinking, so he did his best to ignore it. He was glad at these times that there wasn’t much between them.

She continued to stick close to the girls for the next couple of years, baking sweets for them, giving giri chocolates to be passed through Erza. Both Gray and Gajeel could admit they had a soft spot for her at this point. They wished it hadn’t been so hard to just have a simple hang. 

But they did one year, at a summer festival. Lucy’s father was out of town for the week that lined up with the yearly event, one she had never been able to attend before. 

Her staff pretended like they didn’t know where she was going or what she was doing, that being with her staying at Cana’s for the night before and after. 

They had a group chat, one Lucy couldn’t be a part of as her dad consistently read her texts. But the brunette let them all know that night that Lucy would be there and making a picnic lunch for their day out. 

They were sixteen when he realized he was in love.

Natsu thought that maybe it was just her food, the fact that she cooked like a goddess was fooling him into thinking it was attraction.

But it was surprisingly easy to talk to her, it was fun even. He felt like he’d really known her for years after a few conversations. Her smile churned his stomach, her scent swam down into him, making him purr and bristle excitedly. He looked at her with a swooned gaze whenever she turned away. And under the boom of the fireworks, she was the only thing sparkling that day.

Although, she did begin to glow a little when the moon rose, as she was a star fallen from the sky.

It was unfair that he couldn’t see her like this again, that he felt as though his heart was walking away from him.

But then, the voice returned, reminding him of that twisted urge.

He went to bed with a frown, unfortunately. It was better for them to be apart.

When they were seventeen, much had changed. They were seniors, almost adults. Maybe her father had decided to put some trust in her, or maybe he was tired of being so demanding. But she was able to choose her friends, as long as she wasn’t out past nine.

Natsu kept his distance. He could see the pain in her eyes whenever he made up an excuse to ditch the group, but he had to. Sometimes he felt like he couldn’t really control those thoughts. Sometimes they got so bad when she was around, he had to run away.

He told Gray and Gajeel after he almost got the shit beaten out of him for being such a jerk. His cousin understood. Luckily he and Levy were practically married, so his inner dragon wasn’t as much of a hassle.

The girls had to, unfortunately, live in the dark about the whole situation. Which only made for the best rants during their sleepovers.

Lucy wasn’t that upset, the girls were for her. If she had to think about it, she was just disappointed because she really wanted to get to know Natsu. Because maybe she liked him a little too. He was pretty cute, after all.

So things were as they were for a good amount of time, until one day, their classes combined for a session during P.E.

Natsu gulped as he stood across from Lucy in the gym, both awkwardly trying to avoid eye contact. He wanted to run over and ask the teacher to switch partners, but that would probably come off the wrong way. It was likely that Lucy already hated him for what he decided.

But he was scared. Their class was having a spar session, god knows why. It was pretty well known that most girls at this school could throw a punch that would knock you out so...? They were unfortunately never given a reason why.

“Should we...?” Lucy raised her fists a bit, shrugging with a soft smile on her lips.

“U-Um, sure,” He breathed steadily, his eyes seeing that most had begun to participate.

They weren’t wearing gloves so it wasn’t a true sparring match; he was figuring at this point that the teachers were just bored and wanted some entertainment.

He held himself back, blocking her strikes easily as it didn’t seem like she put much effort forth.

But he wanted her to. Wasn’t this the exact right time, the best opportunity for her to unleash her anger on him? Wasn’t she upset that he wasn’t near her? Didn’t she feel the pain of being apart in her heart?

Natsu shoved her a bit, unknowingly, which caused Lucy to stumble back. She pursed her lips and steadied her loose stance now.

“What was that for?” She asked with a bit of a whine.

“I saw an opening,” He shrugged, still doing his best to avoid her eyes.

She maneuvered a kick, sweeping it to catch Natsu behind his knees. He made a small shout, Lucy giggling as he landed on his butt.

“I saw an opening,” She shrugged, smiling down at the pouty glare Natsu flashed.

“Alright, lets go again,”

They both got more serious as Natsu stood up, his fire starting to bloom in his stomach. He was finally dating his odd desires, though he didn’t pay much attention to what his body was doing at the moment.

His scales began to fleck out on his skin, his eyes shifting into a more golden and shimmering shade. He failed to notice his tail pop out of his shorts, or the canines in his mouth stretch out ever so slightly. 

Lucy was too heated as well to notice much else about him, her drive to pin him down now much more important. 

He met every palm strike with a block, every kick with a shin slowing down her strike. She did the same, neither able to one up the other. Their sweat began to build, their teeth began to grit, students began to turn their heads when the room got a tad warm. But no one said anything. They were too interested, wondering if Lucy had what it took to take the fire dragon down. 

He growled when her strong scent caught under his nose, fuck, he loved how she smelled. Getting all worked up because of him, showing off her strength and presenting herself to him like this. He was crazy turned on, if the boner in his pants hadn’t made it obvious. But they were moving too quickly for anyone to notice.

He was having fun, if anything. He loved this, could do it any day of the week. Especially if he got to show off for her like this as well. He was a formidable opponent, right? Someone who was clearly able to match her speed, who was good enough to be the one to stand by her side. 

Natsu’s dragon was a little impatient, wanting more than just this back and forth, than the teasing they were engaging in. 

His tail subtly slithered up from behind, Lucy not noticing it until it wrapped around her upper thigh.

“Eek!” She stifled a small shriek as it dragged her to the floor, Natsu following to pin her down. “Hey that’s chea–” 

The blonde cut herself off when she felt something poke at her hips, suddenly flushed with embarrassment. It didn’t allow her much time to process anything else as the dragon swiftly lowered his lips to meet her own.

It wasn’t a smug peck like someone would have expected. It was warm, deep, and sensual right off the bat. 

He had a hand holding the back of her head steady while the other curled up in her open hand. 

His lips moved to smother hers before coaxing them to follow his lead. She didn’t know how to kiss, obviously, but briefly followed his lead out of curiosity. And the warmth of his lips was absolutely soothing. Lucy’s mind instantly felt hazy rather than alert, like she was being subdued into slumber.

“I love you,” He breathed out in a brief parting from her reddened lips. 

His tongue barely made it past them when suddenly, a large water cannon collided with his body and flung him into the nearby wall.

Juvia was flustered and staring at Gray with swoony eyes and weak legs. The winter sprite pretended not to see her making that face at him. Erza stood beside her and aimed her hand, an intense blush on her cheeks and a fuming gaze pointed at the soaked dragon.

“Just what the hell did you––Natsu!” The valkyrie shouted as the pink-haired boy quickly booked his ass out of a nearby window. 

He shuddered and felt his stomach sink, running back to the locker room to quickly change. 

How could he, did he have no control?! To get so lost in his own desires that he rubbed himself up against her and stole a kiss like that? His heart felt sick, like the fire ran through his veins had now gone cold. 

He ran out of the room after quickly stripping from his wet clothes, heading towards the other end of campus before flying away. 

He’d be found at home, but would rather have Erza kill him in his own bedroom instead of in front of the entire school.

So he waited painfully for his death, not even bothering to have a last meal with his parents that night. They were concerned but didn’t push him for answers. They figured it was enough to know that he was okay if they let in an absolutely fuming and enraged Erza Scarlet. But he was sure that the whole gang would be coming after him this time. Lucy probably cried...

His ears caught the ringing of a doorbell in the middle of the night; he hadn’t the will to enjoy a peaceful sleep either. His stomach turned, but he forced himself out of bed, not wanting his parents to be bothered with this whole ordeal. 

They’d probably drag him out to the park, if they were here this late. Knock him the fuck out and hang him up in a tree with pervert written in calligraphy ink on his chest. 

He opened the door with his head hung low, expecting to be grabbed and manhandled right away. 

The light clearing of a throat surprised him, he knew that voice.

“L-Lucy? What’re you doing here this late?” He asked, quickly shutting the door behind him. He felt a little odd standing there in a zip up hoodie and loose sweatpants while she was in an oversized tee an practically nonexistent shorts. 

“I snuck out and had Cana drop me off,” She said, looking over her shoulder to the brunette parked down the street on her motorcycle. “She said I should come see you, and I really wanted to, actually.”

“Eh? Really?” He was surprised, but figured she just came to punch him out and to stay the hell away from her for the rest of her life. It pained him to think as much, but he deserved it. 

“I...well, I just,” She blushed and shuddered as the wind rolled over her arms. “I wanted to know if you meant what you said to me earlier.”

“What did I say?” He wasn’t really sure, since it hadn’t really been him that was there. He remembered what had gotten him riled up and the brief aftermath, but...

“You said that you loved me.” She said matter of factly, refusing to look away from his darting gaze.

“I––”

“Either you meant it or you didn’t, just tell me,” There was a twinge of sadness in her voice, the slightest but most audible octave she could have reached. His nose caught scent of starter tears, her eyes beginning to slowly wet. 

“I meant it!” He quickly confessed, afraid that he’d have to see her cry. “Since that summer festival we all went to. I love you, but I didn’t mean to do all that today, really I––”

“Then why have you been avoiding me? Wouldn’t you have wanted to be my friend?” She was now frustrated and stomped her foot a bit. He thought it was cute.

“I did, I mean it, Luce. But I couldn’t when I thought about such weird things about you. I didn’t want to freak you out,” He breathed out, embarrassed but he jumped over that hurdle to be honest. Natsu wasn’t sure why, but it felt like an instinct. He had to be upfront with her, absolutley no lies or she’d never trust him.

“Weird things?” Her cheeks were a bashful pink, lips pulled together as she grasped her hands against them.

“I don’t think I should go into too much detail,” He chuckled slightly. “But I was just scared of hurtin’ ya. Honest.”

“Well,” Lucy quickly leaned forward to peck him on the cheek. “You won’t so, I’ll see you at school tomorrow, okay?”

She started back down towards the street before he could answer, the dragon looking out into the night with a shocked expression on his face. He held his cheek and turned to look at her, his eyes fixated on her hands as they rubbed her goosebump covered arms. 

“Wait!” He called out and swiftly undid his jacket. Natsu handed it off as he jogged to catch up to her. “I don’t want ya to be cold,”

“Thank you,” They shared a shy smile before turning away to head home, their hearts both warm with resolve.

[grim-faux]

24_Fog and its Prisms

First

 The recent events left him parched of vigor and spirit. He’s not particular with his selection of lodging, so long as the atmosphere is relatively soothed and he can tolerate the area over, his minimal needs are met. Though he will take precautions to insure he is not disturbed, but that will come later.

 And the child. A chore he was not prepared to manage.

 The room was sparse but dry, some concerning infrastructure weaknesses dealt with utilizing his own meddling. None of the few windows it sported faced the Tower, a few rooms are available to make use of but his needs are minimal. He makes certain no other occupants are present in the resident space, before selecting the one room with a piece of furniture. Some clothing remained abandoned in the dresser, thus that is where he left Mono. The door is left ajar, and he returned to the front room to ensure the entry door is jammed tight.

 There resided no televisions in this area, but Viewers become desperate in their relentless roaming. Some will throw themselves out of windows in blind devotion to escape.

 With the room secured overall, he stepped back against a wall facing the main door and slipped down to sit. The ordeal had taken a great wealth of energy to channel and focus. He needed some quiet, some empty thoughts. He hated sleeping, that never stopped, especially in the tower. Time blurred, sometimes he couldn’t tell if he was awake or lost in the waking nightmares. His world became nothing but a blistering memory, reminding him how unwanted he was.

 It isn’t equivalent to rest as it is trying to process what had happened, try and internalize the strange, failed struggle of the child. The Thin Man does doze, but it’s not fulfilling, nor are there dreams or nightmares. He would prefer it stay that way.

 He does not know what to do with the child. He cannot recall what he initially sought, let alone his motives. The intent might have been to verify the boy was staying out of dire situations, or to understand what had happened when the smaller had returned to his own ways. The Thin Man reminded himself, the child saw fit to resume his perilous existence in the hostile world. That was the nature of children.

 An adult could never be tolerated, and that was fair. He was gratified by the boy’s suspicion, his tenacity for eluding danger.

 Yet, it became a nuisance he wouldn’t tolerate. The last time Mono was in this state, it was due to his reluctance for abandoning the man in a hat. That was no mistake. Yet, it was idiocy to place himself in that state. Fool, reckless, brat.

 For the better part of a week, the Thin Man remained at the entry door, legs bent up and long arms loosely draped over his knees, with his fingertips pressed together. He needed to leave, he needed to do something more productive. But there came a lingering fear he may not have the strength to return.

 If the child was all right, then he existed. That was the sum of it.

 In a slow and deliberate uncoil, he physically stood up. No flash or flicker. The Thin Man pushed himself from the wall and went to the door. He doesn’t entertain the thought of checking the child first, there was no point. The child could already be long gone ages ago.

 When he shut the main door at his back, it latched tight. Nothing could enter. Though, it wouldn’t be impossible for the boy to escape; the residence had many broken windows, and the child had methods.

 A few days later, the Thin Man did return. After patrolling the city over and gathering some supplies, he felt more fortified to face the room where he left the child. Perhaps it was unfair to wager that regardless intent or neglect, the boy would remain unharmed. The child was not unfathomable, he was only child, and unfortunately he existed. How cruel it was to expect otherwise.

 The only light of the room came from the window there. As ever, radiance didn’t benefit nor impede his capacities. He inched over to the dresser and peered into the clothing. If Mono had moved at all since he was laid there, the Thin Man wouldn’t know. How long had it been, since he set him down? What was the cause of this dormancy? Was it the fall? Or….

 He swaddled the child in a shirt and took him to another room, with a desk and chair set. The kitchen had clean bowls, and he pilfered some light material from the dresser room. Suitably armed, he returned to the back room and began ripping the cloth into thread thin streamers for practical use.

 He only planned to clean the child’s face of grime and blood. It looked ghastly, the blood plastered and flanking across his neck and cheek. Thankfully though, and despite how small his head was, he spied no tears in his scalp. Though it was concerning, if the blood was from within his ear, he was sorely outclassed to examine for damage.

 There was never a doubt the boy was utterly out, yet somehow it was so surreal inspecting the echo of his old reflection. No frowns and glares to spell out the measure of displeasure, just complete passive oblivion. There was something so inherently wrong with that.

 Once the face was cleaned to the best of his ability, he took the bowl and changed it out for some fresh water. He had an idea of what was beneath the bandages, after chancing a glimpse through the pronounced tatters, but he was unwilling to let it alone. With extreme delicacy, he managed to extract Mono from his faithful coat – a treasure the boy would not doubt need preserved.

 The rags Mono used for medical wraps were so frayed, it was an easy matter of ripping them undone. As suspected, the cut on his arm was not perilous, but it was no redundant nick. Applying the fresh bandage – supplied by the thread ravels – was infuriatingly tedious, though it would serve to protect the injury from dust and debris… or crawling through blackout spaces in the walls.

 When he examined the leg however, he found this was slightly more concerning. He washed away some of the scab, but found a portion of the shallower segment healed. It didn’t seem swollen or red with infection, and hadn’t appeared to impede Mono’s movement. Really, he couldn’t recall if the child favored that leg. At the time he was focused on other matters.

 He did not like how limp the body is, how clearly infirm Mono is. It was too much like something critical was missing, perhaps everything. Even in an exhausted rest, the child was in a constant state of rigidity, primed to spring at a moment notice and race out of the grasp of sinister dangers. Now? He was nothing but a shred of cloth. He shouldn’t have let this happen.

 Eventually, he asserted. The boy will awaken. This he knows… he’s almost certain. Despite the infallibility of their interlocked fate, he far from certain. Was that too, a trick of the Tower? It never indicated any laws, maybe it didn’t know. More likely, it didn’t care.

 He tested the width of the wrist between his thumb and forefinger, felt the brittle bones creek with pressure. The pulse was very faint, but all the same present. Was it possible the child was more birdlike and frail since their initial encounter? His chest barely filled out the shirt he wore under his coat, miscolored and stained by every misadventure. It seemed like the only time he stumbled upon him, the child was chewing on something. Likely, the only time the child ceased moving. It was possible no matter the motive, he was inexorable drawn to his younger-self. And it was only when Mono stopped moving to eat, that he could cut the distance.

 This reflection made him deeply ashamed. He didn’t really think, given that the most reflective time of his life had only been in the presence with other children. Yes, even Her. They barely managed. But beyond the time of his final station within the Signal Tower, all other needs had been eradicated. Sheltered. Protected. Aging. All gifts denied to other children; tokens they fought to claim as their existence waned. In the name of survival.

 What was he even doing? What good was this? The damage was done. The Thin Man slouched in his seat and inspected the work. It was adequate. He settled his hand over the little body and reassured himself, yes, the child was still breathing. Shallow, near imperceptible, but persisting. Stubborn and single-minded, even while comatose. He could almost admire it.

 There had never been a way to go about this, with the child. It was lunacy. Dangerous. Apparently, it didn’t matter the intent, children did not do well in the presence of adults. He would resolve to let him go, and adopt the practice which Mono was so well-versed in. The technique of utter avoidance. The boy would find his own way or die, but that was what is right. That was what is needed. Like Six. Children figured these things out, it’s what they did best.

 The hardest was to let go. It was harder than… sorry, he supposed.

 He slumped, combing his other hand under his hat. There wasn’t a point to any of this, at least, not for he or the boy. Mono was repelled by his presence, it was possible he figured out… who he was. Who they were. He never considered this as a possibility, let alone anything else. He just couldn’t leave well enough alone. Mono was surviving by what ever means necessary, which meant running – smartly – from his own shadow. How ironic.

  The Thin Man hadn’t realized he slipped into rest until he jarred, dragged from numb recollections and the dreaded clicking of a ticking clock. He sat up straighter and drew his hand back, off the rumpled shirt.

 Mono was gone. No sign or evidence of him within the room, aside from the abandoned coat. Not a surprise.

 He considered clearing up the bit of rags and bowl, but didn’t see a point to it. Flashing faintly, the residue of his silhouette trailed as he exited the room. On his way through the corridor, he halted and checked the room with the dresser. Alas, there was the child, settled on the floor by the furniture piece which dwarfed him, and gazing out the window. An oversized sock wrapped around his shoulders.

 Why didn’t he take his coat, wondered the Thin Man? It wasn’t set far aside while he worked. The conclusion was thus, Mono had been in a haste for escape, but appeared unable to reach the source of liberation. The window.

 Mono swept his head back, and the Thin Man nearly winced. It was curious how something so pitiful looking, could invoke such an emotion. He expected an immediate and volatile response, but the child simply returned his attention to the window. The little shape shifted with a deep but noiseless sigh.

 Should he risk moving closer? If the child was receptive, he could assist. Set him on his way.

 “Do want to window?” he posed, as softly as he could.

 The child flinched and looked back at him, tilting his head as if considering the options. After a moment he rose to his feet, using the open drawer to keep steady as he wobbled. He looked from the Thin Man to the window, while receding a step.

 He thought of offering his hand, but the child didn’t appear steady on his own feet even with support. Slowly he stooped low and entered the doorway, the child wasn’t looking at him, but focused elsewhere – his arm. When he tried to put a hand around the child, Mono inched back and gave him an imploring look. The Thin Man withdrew.

 “To window. You know I won’t hurt you. Safe.”

 Mono tugged the sock tighter around his shoulders and shuffled back, faltering slightly. He had to hold onto the dresser or risk folding down.

 Deciding on another tactic, the Thin Man knelt and set his open hands on the floor. “Want to window?” He moved his hands forward, and this time the child didn’t retreat. He sort of collapsed into his palms, his body quaking. It likely would’ve suited better to put the child in the drawer for more rest, but Mono was already fumbling to see the window. He crossed the room in a smooth stride and deposited the child there.

 Mono thumped the glass with his forehead as he scooted close to cracked the windowpane, and stared down on the dark city streets below. His breath fogged the glass as he devoted his focus to this serious task.

 “What do you see?” No reply was given, aside from a flicker of the child’s attention. That was well enough. He left to gather some of the provisions he had taken, and to offer Mono a moment….

 When he reentered the room, he’s almost stunned that the boy is unmoved. The window is broken on one side, and though the climb would be perilous, it was manageable – if Mono was in good health. He would never have doubted him to try, and doom them. He was dispirited by this whole affair.

 The child knew the texture of his presence, and thus the Thin Man didn’t see the necessity of drawing attention to himself. He set a bowl of water and some food on the sill. For the time Mono lay fastened to the glass, head drooping. When he sees the food, he’s not much enthused. He does shuffle over and takes whatever is provided and dunks it into the water first. Everything he eats, sopping wet to the point of gruel. It can’t be a pleasant meal, though meals are never pleasant. It’s a chore.

 He annihilated what would be one Mono handful of food and then sagged on the sill, curling up under the sock. He was asleep before he plopped over.

 At least the bundle looked more normal now, coiled the way it was. The Thin Man debated on relocating the knotted heap to the drawer, but decided on an alternative. He took a suitable pot from the kitchen and set it by the sill, for Mono to decide as he needed.

 Before ducking through the doorway, he looked back. In the least, the child broke from the endless slumber. Yet, he had to wonder what he could do, to hasten his recovery. It was a damn pitiful to witness his meek effort to eat, and would he rouse once more? Soon? He didn’t know.

 He knew nothing. He had no inspiration, on what more could be done rather than wait. That was the sum of his entire existence, though. An endless journey punctuated by endless waiting.

Next

[sunsetinmyvein]

The Radio Station - Chapter Six - Why Can’t We Be Friends?

26th of November, 2018

  Eventually, she saw it all unfold in the headlines. The lies. The heroin. The trip to rehab. It was devastating to discover the root cause of Matty’s behaviour in such a disconnected way from how she might’ve expected to discover it a few years ago. A part of her wanted to reach out, to check in and see if he was doing all right, offer to help, but she suspected after their last two interactions that maybe she was better off just leaving it. However, in contrast to the sinking feeling from knowing he had been going through such turmoil, it was incredibly uplifting to see him getting back on his feet. For him to be writing and releasing music again meant that he must’ve successfully made it to the other side. Whenever the announcement of a new album came, she waited in anticipation for the email confirming that he’d be coming back on the show. She wasn’t entirely sure if she was excited at the thought of seeing him again, or absolutely dreading the prospect of things still being uncomfortable between them - her emotions seemed to regularly flip flop between the two. It was awfully close to the album release date when she finally got the confirmation from her boss; she had begun to suspect maybe he didn’t want to come back on the show after how they’d left things. He’d have every right to resent her after how she’d treated him.

 She was knocked out of her thoughts whenever she heard a soft knock at the door, turning in her chair to see Matty standing outside with a sheepish smile, having arrived early. His hair was cropped quite a bit shorter than she’d seen it before but he was still sporting his natural curls. He was wearing some puffy yellow coat over a plain shirt, and stock standard worn out blue jeans. It was probably the most… average, that she’d ever seen him look (not that average was ever a truly fitting word to describe Matthew Healy). She waited for him to push the door open and come in, but he seemed to be waiting for her to let him in. As she stood up and opened the door, and he gingerly made his way inside and loitered next to her desk for a minute, she was suddenly vividly reminded of the first time she’d met him. All she could see was the nervous twenty-three-year-old that she’d met six years ago, who was scared shitless about his first proper radio interview. The nostalgia hit like a freight train, and before she could give it a second thought she grabbed him in a tight hug.

  He hugged her back, pressing his face into her shoulder as he let out the breath he had been holding. “I’m sorry…” She said quietly after a moment.

He gave an incredulous laugh at that, “You’re sorry? For what?” He asked. “I was the dickhead.”

“I just…” This hadn’t really been the way she expected herself to instantly react, nor had she thought of anything to say in this situation. Her mouth was running dry trying to come up with the right words to explain what she was feeling. “I wasn’t exactly a good friend.”  

“I think we were both a bit guilty of that.” He chuckled as he ran a hand through his hair, taking a step back.

“I should’ve tried harder.” She tried to explain, frowning at herself as she floundered for the right sentiment.

“It’s fine, truly.” He reassured her. “I wouldn’t have told you what was happening, anyway. Nobody knew.” He added with a shrug.

  They took their seats opposite the desk, both feeling slightly relieved but well aware there was still tension surrounding them. “Uh, is there anything you want me to avoid asking about?” She asked eventually, busying herself with checking the text line to avoid looking directly at him.

“No.” Matty replied instantly. “I’d prefer you ask what you want to rather than censor yourself for my benefit. I won’t answer it if it’s too much.” He clarified. “Thanks for checking, though.”

“Are you…” She hesitated, unsure of the boundaries of their friendship now and how much she should be asking for her own curiosity. “Are you all right now?” She asked as she looked across to him.

He cracked a small smile, “Considerably better. Probably not all the way there yet, though. It’s hard with my girlfriend back at home for the moment, but I’m managing. Keeping busy with other stuff to stay occupied.” He answered truthfully. She nodded in understanding. “And you? It’s been at least three years since we’ve had a proper conversation.” The realisation of how long it had actually been stung slightly, but she ignored that feeling and instead focused on the fact that he seemed to genuinely want to know how she’d been.

“Good.” She grinned. “Doing well on the morning slot now that it’s been a few years.”

“You’ve been making a bit of a reputation for yourself over here, I hear your name get kicked around a bit when I’m at home. It’s nice to see you getting proper recognition for your efforts.” She tried her best not to blush at the subtle compliment.

 Thankfully she didn’t have too long to dwell on his kind words and any connotations behind them before the interview started. The nervous butterflies sat at the pit of her stomach as she switched the live audio and video feeds over, lying in wait in case the interview still felt as awkward and forced as the last two.

“Matty, great to have you back.” She spoke, clearing her throat slightly.

“Great to be back after so long.” He said cheerfully.

“The 1975 release their new record in six days, A Brief Inquiry into Online Relationships-”

“Only six days?” He muttered to himself in slight disbelief.  

“We’ve only got a relatively short interview today, because after this you are heading straight into the live lounge to play a few tracks for us.” He made a noise of agreement. “We’ve heard five singles off it, all of which sound very different from one another in true 1975 fashion.” Matty laughed lightly at that. “And I noticed that you did the same thing with this album as what you did with I Like it When You Sleep; the first single you released was the first track on the album. Is this becoming a habit for you guys?” She asked.

“Probably not a habit.” He started, letting out a huff. “It just felt like the most natural thing to do. Whether it felt like a primary statement or not, I’m not sure. We’d already made an album by that point, we hadn’t made a group of singles. I hadn’t been thinking ‘oh, how do we butter them up?’ Just thought… this is the first song on the record. Put it out.” He shrugged.

  “Do you think this is your strongest record so far?”

“A hundred percent.” He answered instantly.

“I’ve heard people comparing it to OK Computer. Saying that it’s a similar thing for the millennial generation.” She prompted.

He let out a groan, “I try not to think much about it.” He admitted. “I mean, what do I say? It’s so humbling and amazing, but strange also, because… the only realisation that I really came to, about the record – I think the reference to OK Computer is maybe it’s kind of, the narrative is incredibly twinned with how we communicate and the internet and all those kind of things. Which is obviously OK Computer in a nutshell. My favourite records are about life.” He said, clenching his fist for emphasis and knocking the microphone lightly. “It’s maybe a bit of a big thing to say, but I was just writing a record about relationships. Well… I wasn’t even doing that; I was just writing a record. And it turns out if you’re trying to write an honest record about relationships and how they’re mediated in the modern day, you’re kind of by proxy writing about the internet.” He explained. Things already felt more natural than what they had of late. Matty felt more open and responsive, which instantly put her mind at ease.

  “One of the other singles that we’ve heard from the album is Love It If We Made It, which is…” She tried to pick her words carefully to best capture her thoughts on the song succinctly, “a pretty powerful song to say the least.”

Matty nodded enthusiastically before answering, “The thing with Love It If We Made It… it was very, very difficult to write. It’s a list of information. The idea stemmed from the fact that over a year we collected tabloid newspapers every day to make the lyrics. Unfortunately, when we got to trying that, it was too slapstick. The song was hard to get right. It needed to be as objective and as fair and as anti… ‘watch out sheeple’ as possible. And that’s hard to do.”

“It seems you guys did a good job with it in the end. It’s been resonating well with our listeners.”

“Thanks.” Matty grinned proudly.  

“It’s Not Living If It’s Not With You has also had quite the response.” She added, hoping he’d have a bit to say about that, and that maybe it could work as a segue to the questions blowing up her screen in her peripheral vision.

“It’s… I don’t know…” He sighed, staring blankly at the wall behind her as he tried to formulate an answer. “The way I always explain it, it’s like it’s a song that sounds poppy but it’s about something serious. Which, okay, that’s straight up 1975. And that’s because the feeling that I get from music, narratively or musically, can kind of be the same thing. You know like being nervous or being like, er, anxious for a date, physically could be the same feeling as the fear of heights if you get rid of all the intellect. Emotionally, you get the same thing. I’ve always been like, I get this feeling when I read the lyrics of Hallelujah by Leonard Cohen but I get the same carnal feeling when I hear the music to Girls Just Want to Have Fun. So… the synthesis of those ideas has just been the most obvious thing in the world for me, you know what I mean?” He looked across to her for confirmation. “I think that idea really sums up The 1975. If you’re a big fan of The 1975, that’s the most 1975-iest song on the record.”

  She had hoped he would jump straight into the lyrical content of the song, but clearly she would need to segue into it herself. “That totally makes sense.” She agreed. “There’s been a bit of a debate about the subject matter of It’s Not Living.” She said, giving him a cautious glance. He’d said not to worry about asking whatever she wanted to, but that didn’t stop her from feeling like she was delving too deep into his private life.

He hummed thoughtfully. “I’m pretty sure most of the fans know what it’s about.” He said with a dry laugh. “I’ve not like… done some big reveal of my relationship with drugs over the past couple of years. I think that because…” He stared down at the desk with a frown, “I used to have nightmares about being exposed. Because remember, my whole game has always been that ‘do I know that you know that I think that I’m a rock star?’ that’s always been my whole thing.” He said with a pointed look. “So, the idea though, of actually being known for being a junkie and doing those kinds of things, used to terrify me. Because then I’m a cliché. I lose all of my irony and lose all of my funniness because I’m an actual cliché. So, I think even when I’m talking about it on this record, I’m still going ‘Danny ran into some complications-’ it’s like I’m using characters. It’s a bit like somebody going ‘I’ve got this mate, right, and he’s got a bit of this weird rash-’ “ He chuckled. “Like ‘yeah, all right, well tell your mate-’ it’s like we know who you’re talking about. I think the idea that I’m still trying to hide and remove myself from it is part of the gag. But then the chorus is brutally honest. It’s difficult to write a song like that. It’s hard to despise the idea of fetishizing or romanticising drug use as a behaviour but then only having my truth. Like I don’t have anything else, I don’t have anywhere else to talk about it. There is a hopelessness to drug addiction. You don’t keep doing it because it’s cool, you keep doing it because you feel like there’s no life without it.” His expression seemed to become quite sombre at that before he continued his train of thought. “And to express that… it wasn’t like a relief for me. The music is a catharsis for me, but it wasn’t like I needed to get that out. Unfortunately, I’m only my set of experiences, and they’re pretty limited as somebody who’s been on the road for four years trying to mediate his life through drug addiction, y’know? So yeah… it’s difficult to walk that line. Um… But I just had to make sure that… like with most of my work, any discussion of my behaviour is normally with a profound distaste. And kids are smart, man.”

  She hadn’t really expected him to be so open about it so readily. “What started it?” She asked instinctually, almost forgetting for a moment that she was at work and meant to be providing entertainment. “If you don’t mind me asking.” She added as an afterthought.

He waved a hand dismissively at her worry. “I’d be on stage, and there would be however many thousands of people. And I’m genuinely trying to connect with people, you know? And then it’s done. Go back to the hotel room. Go to sleep. Like… what?” He answered with a frustrated huff. “I was trying to change culture in my head ten minutes ago and now I’ve gotta go to sleep? I used drugs to go to sleep primarily. I’ve never had a good relationship with sleep, anyway… I’ve always been jealous of people they’ll tell me about a dream and they’ll kind of like explain this little kind of film that they’ve been that has a dynamic of emotions and it was up and it was down and my dreams are just like terror. Just fear. I’ve never had that many good dreams. And drugs stop you dreaming. But then obviously… you have solutions to get rid of that post-show buzz. Didn’t really get me anywhere. Spoilt it, as well. Did way too much. Did loads of it.” He admitted. “So, I can’t do anymore of it… when I’m older.” He laughed.

  “So, you became reliant on that as a comedown?” She questioned.

“It was always gonna happen with me with opiates.” He said bluntly. “I only say this in case people relate to it, but like, when I was younger, I kind of used to dream about being sedated. And unfortunately, sex, drugs, other things, religion, I’ve loved all these things in my life but they’ve never just-” He clicked his fingers, “turned it off. And unfortunately, when I tried those drugs, I – temporarily, for a moment – had that. And I was like, right, this is gonna help. And erm,” He picked at his nail anxiously. “It just takes your shine off, slows you down. Makes you lie, which is a nightmare for somebody who is so Mr Tell The Truth.”

“The lies are what got you caught?”

He made a noise of contemplation. “The problem is… I’m very, very lucky, is what I am. And I have an infrastructure around me of like… we’ve been a band since we were fourteen, I’m twenty-nine, right.” He said with a pointed look in her direction. “We’re like brothers, we love each other. I have amazing opportunities like this,” He gestured around the studio, “I have my health, I have all these things. There’s not a lot of people around me who allow stuff like… hard drug use. And that’s really annoying when you’re a drug addict. But it also makes you reflect, you know what I mean? Because you just end up lying, and being a version of yourself that- but that’s part of the sickness. You incentivise things weirdly.” He explained with a shrug.

  “And the rehab centre you went to was in Barbados?” She asked. He nodded in response. “I heard that the band paid for that?”

His expression visibly softened when she brought that up. “Yeah. I think the nice story was that uh… Obviously, I’m in a fortunate place in my career that - obviously I have to think about those kind of financial things - but before I went I was kind of thinking ‘I’ll sort that out when I’m out there’ and then I remember saying to Jamie ‘oh-‘ and he was like ‘aw nah, nah, it’s all sorted’ and I was like ‘Oh, how much did it - what was it?’ and he was like ‘oh, well we just did it out the band’ and I was like ‘oh really??’ “ He seemed visibly touched by this story, even retelling it now.

“That was pretty amazing of them to do.”

“Yeah… Yeah, it was.” He muttered, still clearly caught up in his own thoughts. “And you know what, if you want a band to last forever, share.” He added simply.

  “And this place you went to, supposedly they do a bunch of stuff with horses?” She asked in confusion. When she had heard this information, she was almost certain she had gotten her wires crossed, but Matty was already confirming what she had said.

“Equine therapy, yeah! It was, basically…” He started trying to explain, before cracking a smile and looking across to her. “In reality what it was, for the first two or three days was me stood in a field rolling my eyes next to a horse.” He said with a laugh. “That’s what it was really. This guy put me in a field with a horse and was like ‘talk to the horse’ so I’m like” He gave a sarcastic look, “ ‘…all right?’ So, he leaves me alone and I’m like ‘hey man’ and the horse obviously didn’t say anything.” She couldn’t help but laugh at the image. “And then he put me in the round pen, right. He put me in this pen which was just round – was a good explanation of it.” He reprimanded himself with a snort. “And I stood in the middle, and basically he said ‘I want you to walk towards the horse. It’s gonna send the horse around in a loop, and I want you to assert your position. You’re not going to get the horse. You’re just telling the horse that this is where you’re going’. All this stuff. So, I do it. And he goes ‘you’ll notice three things, at one point the horse will dip its head, then it’ll bow its ear to you, then it’ll start biting its lips. Once it’s done these three things, I want you to turn your back and drop the rope.’ So, I’m like right, lips, thing, do this, yep. And the horse is running, the horse is running, I watched for these three cues, and I dropped the rope and I turned round. The horse stopped dead.” He clapped his hands together for emphasis, staring at her seriously.

  “I swear to you, it was one of the most profound moments of my life. The horse stopped dead, came over to me and stood behind me – and this is a horse that for three days had mugged me off. And I was… stood there with this horse, that now… wanted to be with me?” He seemed entirely perplexed by this. “Then when I walked it wouldn’t cross my feet,” He gestured to his feet as he said this, knocking his microphone in the process. “Sorry, I keep hitting the microphone. Way too gesticulated today. Erm, when I went into the field and hung out with it, it wanted to be with me. And then I stood there and was like ‘Ah… Right…’ Then all of these profound things… It was so…” He tried his best to find the words. “It ate everything it needed to eat, and didn’t complain about it, and didn’t eat too much of it, and ate the right stuff. It had the ability to destroy anything it wanted, but the desire to hurt nothing. It was physically perfect and strong. It was forgiving with its time with me. And it was kind of compassionate in a way, ‘cause he’s a horse, he doesn’t want me there, he just wants to be a horse. But he let me be there.” It was abundantly clear how much of an impact this experience had on Matty. He spoke about it so passionately that it was hard not to feel moved by what he was saying. “I found myself envying all of these human qualities in a horse. And I think that was the point of it…” He said with a look of finality. “At least, I hope that was the point of it. Otherwise I’ve screwed it up and learned nothing.” He laughed loudly. “But it worked for me.”

  “How are you finding it? Being off the drugs?” She asked, leaning back in her seat after having been leant forward in interest for the last few minutes as he told his story.

He pulled a face as he tried to answer that in a manner suitable for a mass radio audience. “I mean… I wouldn’t say I’m this ‘beacon of sobriety’ “ He punctuated that with air quotes, “that’s kind of, telling you how it is to be an ex addict. I don’t know.” He answered sincerely. “I’ve not gone long enough. I’m not gonna start talking about ‘I haven’t done drugs in five years - ten years’ it was only a few months ago. I was still doing loads of them.” He said as he scratched at his neck.

“Is it harder now without them?”

“I don’t sleep as good as I used to with it, but I’m getting by.” He replied with a nod. “I’m all right with sleeping now. The band and my girlfriend have been really supportive and helpful. I’m doing all the things now that I used to do when I took drugs all the time. So, I’ve just made a record without doing it all the time,” He ticked that off on a finger, “so that was an experience, that was a challenge. I’ve now started touring without doing it all the time,” He ticked that off as well, “that’s an experience, that’s a challenge. I’m now about to start getting on planes all the time and touring internationally,” He added that to the list, “that’ll be a challenge. But you’ve just gotta take it day by day as the cliché says, or you’ll freak yourself out.”

  “You talk about drugs pretty freely in your music, but you don’t really speak about it in interviews, was that to try and stay… disconnected from it to some degree? Did you think it was going to get as bad as it did?” She asked. She had entirely tuned out of the fan questions being sent in now, asking these questions almost purely from her own curiosity to know what had happened to the Matty she knew.

“No, no, no… I didn’t. I mean, I think the thing that I think I always have confidence in is that because I’ve – regardless of if it’s drugs or relationships - the main thing I’ve done with The 1975 is spoken about myself with kind of quite a profound disdain.” He answered. “There’s not really been a celebration of the behaviour. I think that if I was ever romanticising or fetishizing the use of drugs, I think I’d catch myself doing it. And if I ever have done that in a lyric, it will be immediately met with a lyric that shows that one up to be ironic or flawed.” He elaborated. That made sense. Most of his songs did reflect that attitude. “I’ve just had to be honest. Religion allows you to kind of give something away, sex, exactly the same thing. They’re just ways of giving up some kind of responsibility in the moment. But by that point I’d done ‘em all!” He grinned, still trying to keep the mood light despite the heavy topic. “Drugs was the only one left.”

  She stared at him for a moment, just taking in all of the information he’d given her in such a short timeframe. It was a lot to process all at once, but it made a lot of the pieces click into place and answered a lot of questions that had kept her up at night when they had lost contact. Eventually she clocked back into reality, seeing that he was watching her just as intently as she had been watching him while he had divulged some of the most intimate aspects of his life.

“So, to a lighter note-” She segued.

“It’s fine, I don’t mind talking about it.” He said with a chuckle.

She smiled back at him, “I’m sure our listeners have enjoyed hearing it all in such great detail. But, there are some other big events that have been happening in your life as well that we haven’t brought up.” She said.

“Oh?”

“The 1975 will be headlining Reading and Leeds next year.”

“Yes!” He beamed. “It’s our first big headline festival. It gets me proper emotional. We didn’t just go as kids, after I got to thirteen, Christmas took a back seat and the date on my calendar was Reading and Leeds. I went one year with a tenner and no tent. I mean, I’ve had some moments there. It’ll definitely be a very humble show. All of this ego and confidence here will be gone.” He scoffed, “ ‘Honestly guys, thanks so much for coming.’ ” He said in a feigned blubbering emotional voice, before giggling at himself. “But like, we’ve just become a really good band in my opinion. I think we could headline Reading and Leeds tomorrow if you asked us to.”

  “Are you particularly excited to have content off the new album to perform there?”

“Definitely. There are some songs on there that will be added into the festival setlists. It was about creating a distillation of what preceded it. Everything needed to be better, more extreme. Poppy bits poppier, heavy bits heavier, honest bits more honest.” He explained with a nod. “You can look at your work and be like ‘what did I do there that someone likes’ or ‘let’s try and do that piano thing’. Me, when I’m like, really personal, really honest, that’s when I get the best reaction. So, I just tend to do that. Like what’s gonna make me, y’know-“ He started pretending to tear up for emphasis.

“And you guys are already working on the next album, Notes on a Conditional Form? This one’s not even out yet!”

He just laughed. “We went away and what happened was, we finished A Brief Inquiry, kind of had a week off and then we started with Notes. I’m just letting it happen.” He shrugged. “I’m letting it happen in the next six months. It’ll be before…” He seemed to be doing some calculations in his head. “August. It has to be in time for Reading and Leeds.” He added decisively.

  Glancing down at the clock on the screen next to her, she could see that they had in fact gone over time. “Well, as always Matty, it’s been lovely having you on the show, but I think we have to wrap it up so you can scoot over to the live lounge and get yourself set up.” She said with a small sigh, disappointed that the interview had to end after how well it had been going. Matty had felt entirely captivating as he spoke today, clearly on his game.

“God, this’ll be the first time we’ve played together in… ages.” He said as he pulled a hand through his hair and leaned back into his chair. “And we’ve not played these songs live yet, either. This will be the debut.”

“Incredibly exciting.” She nodded. “So, I’ll let you go. Tune in folks in half an hour, The 1975 will be playing a short set for us of songs from their new album, A Brief Inquiry Into Online Relationships, in the live lounge.” She spoke into the microphone, before rounding out the interview.

  Matty didn’t move from his chair across from her as she switched the camera feed off and switched over to the next round of tracks.

“Are you coming?” He asked as soon as she took her headset off. “To the live lounge?” He clarified.

Her shift was meant to end in just over twenty minutes, and they started in thirty. She could probably finish up quickly enough to make it down there in time. “Yeah, I can do that.” She said with a nod.

He grinned eagerly, “It’ll be wicked to have you there for it.”

“It’s probably about time I saw you guys play.” She laughed as he stood up.

“I’ll see you shortly.” He said over his shoulder as he made his way out of the studio.

  * * *

 By the time she made her way down to the live lounge quite a crowd had already formed. Her handover between shifts had been fairly rushed in an attempt to get out of there quickly, but obviously The 1975 knew how to draw an audience. She managed to squeeze her way through a few crew members to get a decent enough viewing point. Whenever she caught Matty’s gaze, he waved at her excitedly. She waved back, suddenly feeling a bout of nerves at the thought of finally watching him in action. Once the cameras were set up and all of the equipment had done one final round of checks, they launched into quite a boppy first song. She recognised this instantly as Tootime, as it had been her favourite of the singles that were released. He sounded a bit rusty and raw, which thankfully he could cover with the filter over his voice, but his enthusiasm to be performing again was unmistakable. The looks he was throwing to his band were nothing short of ecstatic, and despite being out of practice they played the song flawlessly. They finished up the first song, and he shrugged off his yellow jacket as they changed their gear over for the next two. Their little live set was only three songs long in the end, but they felt It’s Not Living and Sincerity Is Scary were excellent choices to best get across the vibe of the new album. After seeing what they could do in a tiny room with minimal fanfare, she was suddenly kicking herself for never getting out to one of their live shows.

  When they had wrapped up the set, Matty started packing away his gear before seeing her starting to leave. He quickly dropped what he was doing and called out to her to wait up. She turned to face him, as he suddenly realised that he hadn’t worked out what to actually say. “Look, I’m sorry about… how I’ve been lately.” He eventually settled on.

“It’s okay, you were going through a rough time.” She reassured him.

“I was,” He nodded, “but it’s not really an excuse.” He added with a sigh. “Can I take you out to lunch after this? To apologise properly.” He asked with a hopeful look.

“You don’t have to-” She started, before he interrupted.

“I know I don’t have to - I want to.” He corrected. She considered this offer for a moment. “Please?”

“Sure.” She nodded, trying to conceal her smile. “That’d be nice.”

  She waited patiently as he packed up his gear, feeling slightly awkward for loitering around a studio that wasn’t hers while she watched everyone else clear out. Once everything seemed fairly put away, he exchanged a quiet word with the band and walked over to where she was standing.

“Any preferences for where we eat? It’s your apology lunch, after all.” He said as he slipped his jacket back on.

She grimaced at his choice of words. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Why?” He laughed.

“It makes me feel worse than I already do.”

“Suppose we’ll just feel bad together, then.” He said as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and ushered her back out of the building. She couldn’t deny, it felt nice to be seeing Matty act more like he had when they’d first met. Whether that was because she enjoyed the attention or because it was nice to see her friend feeling more himself was up for debate.

  Due to neither of them being the one to want to make the call about where to eat, for fear of the other not enjoying it, they ended up going to the only place that served food within their direct eyeline – a bakery. It made her feel less like she was taking advantage too for him to only have to pay for pastries and coffee, not a proper fancy meal with drinks. They caught each other up on the fine points of their lives that they’d missed out on hearing over the last few years: highlights in careers, people who’d come and gone, other artists they’d met that had proved to be noteworthy (for good reasons and bad). It was incredibly reassuring for the both of them to know that conversation still flowed easily enough between them when they weren’t actively disliking each other.

“Sorry if the interview was a bit… too personal. We didn’t really talk about the record all that much, in the end.” She said, thinking back to how long they’d spent discussing his drug habits rather than his impending album release.

“Stop apologising.” He said around a mouthful of food. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be saying sorry. And I’m sure the fans would’ve liked it.” He shrugged.

“Yeah, but I don’t want to force stuff out of you for the sake of entertainment.”

“Like I said, I wouldn’t have answered if I didn’t want to.” He reminded her.

  He waited a beat, composing what he had originally wanted to say today before clearing his throat. “I really am sorry, you know. For how I left things.” He said as he stared down into his mug of tea.

“It’s genuinely okay, Matty.” She reassured him. “I wasn’t really any better.” She added under her breath.

“I was just a bit oblivious and hopeful when I fucked stuff up initially. I wanted to act like I hadn’t dropped off your radar for two years.” He admitted as he scratched at the side of his head. “If I’m honest, I was reaching out to get some support from an old mate in a time when I felt pretty overwhelmed by everything that was happening. But I went about it in all the wrong ways and just made it a whole lot worse.” He clarified with a dry laugh. As if she hadn’t already felt bad enough, now he tells her that she’d shut him out when he had been trying to ask for help? The guilt increased tenfold.

“Sorry.” She said. He was about to tell her off again for apologising, but she cut him off. “I was already pretty shitty that I hadn’t seen you in so long, so I was pretty quick to want to end that interaction when things started getting… difficult.” She explained.

  “Guess you live and learn, huh?” He said with a small smile. “At least we’re still mates now.” Hearing him say that helped ease a bit of her worry that she’d done as much to fuck things up as he had. At least now that it was all out in the open, they could move past it.

“Yeah.” She concurred, returning his smile. They finished up the pastries that Matty had bought before stepping out of the bakery. Both of them felt like a weight had been lifted now that they knew they hadn’t screwed stuff up for good between them. Having each said their piece, they were pretty confident that they could give friendship another shot.

“It was great to see you.” He said as he pulled her in for a hug tight enough that it almost made her lose her breath.

“Next time we’ll have to make sure it’s not so long.” She said as he moved back from the hug.

“We’ll keep in touch.” He agreed with a nod. “And I mean it this time.”

Taglist: @imagine-that-100 @ghostlightqueen @tooshhhy @robinrunsfiction @approved-by-dentists

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[thepinkseat-askthemoonbunny]

Toll The Dead

On the day he opens his eyes, the sun is blindingly harsh. He tries to move his hands only to be greeted by astonishingly smooth skin and dark waves flopping into his vision. He’s trapped for so long that both he and the ancient tree actually died. The difference is, he came back. He wept, although they weren’t tears of joy after being finally freed from his (admittedly deserved, he could say that now) captivity. They were tears of sorrow. Actually, neither freedom nor captivity were in his mind upon his awakening. Instead it was one, all-consuming question took up that space.

How long have I been dead?

The old, dead tree was still the same apart from being a mere husk now. The old grove, the forest was still the same. But Camelot...Camelot was totally different. It no longer existed.

The mighty Pendragon Castle had all but crumbled to dust, the inhabitants long gone either to their respective afterlives, or as shades haunting what was left of the ruined halls. He’d heard whispers that there’d been a great battle long ago, a battle where Arthur had been betrayed by the son he conceived in sin and shame. Arthur. Arthur was gone too, then. Tears pricked Merlin’s eyes anew when he’d heard it...he would never see either of them again. He would never go to heaven and see Arthur’s smiling face, he wouldn’t even float through the gates of hell and embrace his beloved Uther after centuries of being apart. Arthur’s grave was at Avalon, a place that was forever closed to him. Even after all this time Morgana and Nimue’s memories had not dulled, and neither had their power it seemed.

I didn’t even get to say goodbye.

There were too many memories here, too much had remained the same and too much had changed. All the work of decades was lost, friends and loved-ones were lost. There was no longer a godson, a lover. A mother, a sister or an apprentice to stick around for. Everything around him was a reminder of loss, the world had moved on without him and he had no choice but to move on too.

There was no place for him anymore. Limbs still stiff after being fused to wood for so long, Merlin summoned his weakened magic to conjure not food, not water, but enchanted roses. A bouquet of them: not his finest work but he hoped that the recipients would appreciate the thought.

. . . .

He left one on Uther’s grave below the crypts of Saint-Peter. “Take care, my love.”

He left the second on the floor where Arthur’s throne used to stand, and what was left of his portrait underneath it.

The third he had left at the grave of his mother, who’d insisted she be buried with her fellow sisters.

Speaking of sisters, he gave the fourth to a raven and instructed it to find Ganieda, wherever she was. He would like to see her again, but he didn’t even know if she was still alive.

The fifth and sixth went onto Igraine and Gorlois’ tombs: at least the lady got to be buried beside her true love at the end. Poor, unfortunate woman...she’d been through so much. He figured it was the least he could do. I know nothing I say or do could make up for what I’ve done...but I’ve looked after Arthur. I raised and protected him the best I could, and he became a marvelous king. A marvelous man, I know you’d be proud of him. I am, even though I’ve no right to be.

When the air turned chilly around him for no reason at all, he knew he’d overstayed his welcome. He was not forgiven, that much was clear.

“Why are you here?! You’re not supposed to be here! You don’t have the right...!”

Merlin didn’t even have to look up when the door to the crypt slammed open, he already knew who it was. “Hello, Morgana.”

“How dare you. How dare you defile my parents once again!” Her hair was a halo of fire, wreathing her thunderous face. “You and your lover already took their lives, you could not leave them in peace at their deaths?!”

“I only meant...” Coming here was a mistake. A second step of footsteps rushed into the chamber, that thin face and those blue eyes and that dark hair was burned into Merlin’s brain. He’d last seen it when she was fusing his old and silvered body into the great oak. “How did you get out of the tree?!”

“The tree is dead, Nimue. Look, coming here was a mistake. I’ll take my leave...”

“Do you really think I’m just going to let you walk away?” Morgana took a step forward. “Not this time.”

There were bolts of magic exchanged and smoke kicked up around them, a confusing jumble of light and sound and smell. Merlin barely missed the thorny vine aimed his way...Morgana had always been the more talented of his students. Nimue chimed in with her own magic, like two perfectly synchrd dancers performing a pas-de-deux. He had to get out, he knew he wouldn’t survive much longer if they’d had better aim. In the cloak of smoke and rubble, he slunk out through the first opening he saw, not having the energy to turn into anything bigger than a lizard at this point.

. . . .

It was taking an excruciatingly long time for his magic to come back...of course he’d loved without it before, but it was just so much easier to have it at your disposal. When you have magic, it becomes a part of you and losing it is a lot like losing a limb. He felt like he’d lost a right arm. When he barely escaped with his life, Merlin ran. He didn’t know where he was running to, but he ran. He kept running, and when his magic finally became strong enough he flew.

He didn’t know where he’d ended up, all he knew is that he was on his knees in a thick forest, hair falling in front of his face. It was just as much gray as it was brown at this point, as well as his beard. It was odd, really...forests were once a place of comfort for him. He used to sleep in them to keep dry, he and his sister would play in the forest when they were children but ever since the whole Nimue debacle, forests felt eerie and suffocating to him. He no longer felt free, he felt trapped instead. Perhaps, not as trapped as the unfortunate soul he stumbled upon though.

“Miss? Miss, are you alright?!” Merlin approached warily, making his way toward the figure who was slumped under a great pine...they didn’t have many of those in Britain. The air was much colder here than it was back in Britain as well. Wherever he was, he wasn’t home anymore. It was a woman, that much was certain from the stained yellow-green skirts and delicate fingers. Her dark hair, as salt-and-pepper as his obscured most of her face like a veil. Her one visible eye, which she turned to him was the deep marble-green of bottle glass. She said nothing for a long time, merely stared. It chilled Merlin to see it. When she finally spoke, he merely stared at her in confusion. This was a language he’d never heard before.

“You don’t even speak our language, do you? You’re not from around these parts.” Perhaps noticing his bewilderment, she switched to English...but it was in a thick, somewhat strange accent. At least he could understand her now.

“No ma’am, I am not. I don’t even know how I got here, I was just...”

“Running away from demons?” She tilted her head and gave him a chilling, impish grin, her eyes twinkling with...mischief? Or something else entirely? Merlin sighed, seating himself on the ground next to her. “Yes. They’re of my own making though, unfortunately.”

“We all have demons...we can choose to run from them, we can choose to work with them. I think the latter offers more possibilities, don’t you?”

“I suppose so? Anyway, why are you here? Just resting?”

“Some boys stole my walking stick and when I tried to run after them, I collapsed.”

“That’s awful! Children these days, no respect. You’re not hurt, are you?”

“You’re rather gentlemanly, aren’t you?” Her smile grew wider, and Merlin actually found himself smiling back. “And very kind.”

“Thank you. Did you get your staff back?”

“Unfortunately, no. But it’s alright, I have others. Those little toads will learn the hard way that this old lady’s walking stick isn’t a toy.”

“I wouldn’t call you old, Miss.”

“You’re kind, but a tad slow-witted.” Merlin felt himself stiffen up at that. “Well I...!”

“Don’t get your beard in a knot! I am old, it’s as plain as the age on your own face. I’m not ashamed of it, why should a lady be ashamed of her age?”

“Do you need any help?”

“If you could help walk me home, I’d be grateful.”

. . . .

“We’re here.” The cabin was small, but rather well-kept and surrounded by a thicket of trees. “You live here alone?”

“I wouldn’t say I’m alone. It’s not as if the only company worth keeping is that of the human variety, you know. Come in, I’ll have dinner on the kettle in a minute.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t...”

“I insist! You stopped to help me, at least let me give you a hot meal as a thank-you. And besides, I can use someone to speak to for a while.”

Merlin had intended to leave as soon as dinner was done, but he realized that he had nowhere else to go. He was used to making his own way, he’d be fine. But the old lady offered to let him stay, provided that they exchange knowledge. She could learn from him, and in turn he could learn from her. It confused him until he added it up in his head. Alone in the woods, sprites and imps as housekeepers, all sorts of odd charms hanging about the house? She’s a witch. A powerful one too. Ever since Nimue, he was cautious of sharing his knowledge with anyone...but then again, he knew that was going to happen. And this one didn’t make him promise not to use magic against her...plus she hadn’t poisoned him, maybe it was safe.

He didn’t know her name, and she told him once when he asked that it’d been so long since she used her true name that she’d quite forgotten it herself. But the locals called her Grandmother, at least the ones that came to her for help.

“Why do they call you Grandmother?” Merlin asked one day while she was pouring over one of his borrowed tomes.

“Because I am more powerful than they, and far older and they know it.” They’d pay her tidy sums for her aid, and she’d help them...sometimes at least. Other times, a far more unfortunate fate awaited those that she refused. It was almost as if she could read the hearts of men, and judge whether or not they were worth helping. He actually quite liked it here, a new start where nobody knew who he was. Freedom from politics...he still had his powers as a Seer, but he’d lost his taste for shaping the future long ago. We all know how the last attempts ended...and good company. He and Grandmother seemed to get on like a house on fire: “fortunate for you, because don’t really like many men.” They seemed to understand each other, he liked her clever ways and her cunning and even her strange house. They were in one position when he was awake, and when he was asleep he would find that they’d moved somewhere else in the middle of the night. Whenever he asked her about it, she’d just give him that rapacious grin and ask him to help her with the garden.

. . . .

It went quite well, until Nimue and Morgana found them. The little tin bell that announced visitors had been rung. “Merlin, could you get that?” Grandmother didn’t even look up from the potion she was stirring, and Merlin opened the door to find two familiar faces. “So this is where you’re hiding out now, eh Teacher?” Nimue mused.

“What are you two doing here?” Morgana wrapped her arm around Nimue’s shoulders, and the girl leaned into the embrace. “Why we’re here to kill you, of course!” Her voice was as cheery and light-hearted as a child. “You avoided us for some decades, but now we’ve finally found you!”

“Technically, Nimue already killed me. She trapped me in that tree and I died, remember?”

“Like it was yesterday...but we’re here to make sure that you don’t come back.” Merlin heard the shuffling of feet behind him and Grandmother peered over his shoulder. “Merlin! You didn’t tell me your friends were coming over, I would’ve made more soup!”

“They’re not my friends.”

“We’re not his friends.” The sentences were said in tandem so that they blurred together, making it hard to distinguish who spoke first. “Look lady, you don’t know what that man in front of you has done...” Morgana began, but Grandmother held up a hand to silence her. “Oh I’m very aware, he’s told me. I trust you young ladies punished him?”

“Not nearly as much as we would’ve liked...but the tree thing was marvelous, I have to give it to Nim.” Morgana leaned in to kiss her cheek, and Nimue smiled up at her. Merlin noticed the way the girls hung off of each other; that easy rapport they had developed. The aura they radiated reminded him a lot of he and Uther once upon a time. When had that happened? Not that it mattered now.

“This is my battle, I’ll deal with them. You don’t have to involve yourself...” Merlin whispered to her, but Grandmother’s glare made him quiet instantly. So much so that it puzzled the redheads in the doorway...who was this woman that could silence the most powerful wizard in the world with a single look? That’s when Morgana noticed it, the staff in her hand. “You’re...you’re...” the sorceress whispered, recognizing the symbol from her books.

“Yes, I am. And you’re not going to take my study buddy from me, are you?”

“But Grandmother!” Nimue protested. “He’s...!”

“Done his time. I believe in women taking back their power, but it seems you’ve already done that. I mean, I think trapping him in a tree for some centuries and leaving him to die is a suitable punishment...I would’ve done the same thing myself. I like him, and I’ve decided to keep him. It seems he’s had quite a bit of time to think while in confinement.”

“He’s a slippery one, Grandmother.” Morgan’s tone was heavy and wooden, much like her house.

“I’m even slipperier. Not to worry girls, I’ve been taking care of myself before him and if he gets out of line, I’ll take care of that too.”

“And if he gets up to his old tricks again?”

“Then he’s for the streets and I’ll personally call you so you can take him off my hands. If there’s anything left of him.” Her voice was as cheery as ever, but there was something coming from the old woman. Something sinister, frightening...wreathing her like flame. Morgana shrank back. “Yes, Grandmother.” The young sorceress’ jaw tightened in protest, but she said nothing further.

“Good. Now run back off to your country, girls. I’m sure you must have things that require your attention.”

Morgana made to turn around, Nimue rushing after her. “We finally have him in our grasp and we’re just going to walk away?!”

“Nim, that witch is more powerful than you, me and perhaps Merlin put together! He’s not worth it...what chance do either of us have against Baba Yaga?”

The cabin’s two “human” occupants watched Nimue and Morgana’s retreating backs, Merlin turned to Grandmother in shock. “I thank you. But...why?”

“Because I like you, you amuse me. Like I said when we first met, I keep all sorts of company. But sometimes human company can be pleasant too.” Her face turned into the sinister, somewhat terrifying mask it was when they’d first met. “This is your second chance. Don’t fuck it up, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes. Crystal.”

“Excellent!” The grin was back on her face. “Now come along, let’s get out of here.”

“Baba Yaga, huh? So you do have a name.”

“It just means Granny Yaga. Yaga is a word that means wicked or frightening, more of an epithet than a name. Come on.”

. . . .

Later that night, Merlin simply placed the last rose into the vase on the dining room table. “It’s not much, but it’s all I’ve got left.” The witch gave him a slow smile. “Well, aren’t you quite the gentleman?”

“Hey, I was thinking...”

“I’m not the marrying type, so you can save it. I tried it once and it didn’t end very well, so I swore never again.” She stared through him as if he were made of glass.

“We don’t have to get married!” Merlin said quickly. “We can still be friends, with a...side hustle, if you want.”

“Side hustle? Is that what they call it these days?”

“I panicked, alright?!”

“No persistent pleas to return your love?”

“The last time I tried that shit, I was trapped in a tree for eight hundred years. And I have a fear that you would do even worse to me so no, not worth it.”

She gave one of her rare low chuckles. “Friends with a side hustle, I like it. Let’s be off then, I’m bored and I have locals to terrorize. Plus I haven’t really made the little shits that took my staff pay yet.”

There was a rumbling beneath them, but the witch didn’t seem to be affected. Merlin looked over the cabin’s porch and watched as they rose into the air, higher and higher before finally stopping. “Are those...chicken legs?!”

“Of course, how else do you think the house moves? Did you think it just floated on its own?!”