#um also for context i started drawing this around when they were going through their first divorce

[greensun]

this has been in my inbox for a month i am sooo sorry. but yes i think women should kiss :)

[soundsfaebutokay]

So I've recc'd this video before, but it deserves its own post because it's one of my favorite things on youtube. It's a Tedx Talk by comics writer, editor, and journalist Jay Edidin, and I really think that it will connect with a lot of people here.

If you live and breathe stories of all kinds, you might like this.

If you care about media representation, you might like this.

If you're neurodivergent, you might like this.

If you're interested in a gender transition story that veers from the norm, you might like this.

If you love the original Leverage and especially Parker, and understand how important it is that a character like her exists, you will definitely like this.

Transcript below the cut:

You Are Here: The Cartography of Stories

by Jay Edidin

I am autistic. And what this means in practice is that there are some things that are easier for me than they are for most people, and a great many things that are somewhat harder, and these affect my life in more or less overt ways. As it goes, I'm pretty lucky. I've been able to build a career around special interests and granular obsession. My main gig at the moment is explaining superhero comics continuity and publishing history for which work I am somehow paid in actual legal currency—which is both a triumph of the frivolous in an era of the frantically pragmatic, and a job that's really singularly suited to my strengths and also to my idiosyncrasies.

I like comics. I like stories in general, because they make sense to me in ways that the rest of the world and my own mind often don't. Self-knowledge is not an intuitive thing for me. What sense of self I have, I've built gradually and laboriously and mostly through long-term pattern recognition. For decades, I didn't even really have a self-image. If you'd asked me to draw myself, I would eventually have given you a pair of glasses and maybe a very messy scribble of hair, and that would've been about it. But what I do know—backwards, forwards, and in pretty much every way that matters—are stories. I know how they work. I understand their language, their complex inner clockwork, and I can use those things to extrapolate a sort of external compass that picks up where my internal one falls short. Stories—their forms, their structure, the sense of order inherent to them—give me the means to navigate what otherwise, at least for me, would be an impassable storm of unparsable data. Or stories are a periscope, angled to access the parts of myself I can't intuitively see. Or stories are a series of mirrors by which I can assemble a composite sketch of an identity I rarely recognize whole...which is how I worked out that I was transgender, in my early thirties, by way of a television show.

This is my story. And it's about narrative cartography, and representation, and why those things matter. It's about autism and it's about gender and it's about how they intersect. And it's about the kinds of people we know how to see, and the kinds of people we don't. It's not the kind of story that gets told a lot, you might hear a lot, because the narrative around gender transition and dysphoria in our culture is really, really prescriptive. It's basically the story of the kid who has known for their whole life that they're this and not that, and that story demands the kind of intuitive self-knowledge that I can't really do, and a kind of relationship to gender that I don't really have—which is part of why it took me so long to figure my own stuff out.

So, to what extent this story, my story has a beginning, it begins early in 2014 when I published an essay titled, "I See Your Value Now: Asperger's and the Art of Allegory." And it explored, among other things, the ways that I use narrative and narrative structures to navigate real life. And it got picked up in a number of fairly prominent places that got linked, and I casually followed the ensuing discussion. And I was surprised to discover that readers were fairly consistently assuming I was a man. Now, that in itself wasn't a new experience for me, even though at the time I was writing under a very unambiguously female byline. It had happened in the letter columns of comics I'd edited. It had happened when a parody Twitter account I'd created went viral. When I was on staff at Wired, I budgeted for fancy scotch by putting a dollar in a box every time a reader responded in a way that made it clear they were assuming I was a man in response to an article where my name was clearly visible, and then I had to stop doing that because it happened so often I couldn't afford to keep it up. But in all of those cases, the context, you know, the reasons were pretty obvious. The fields I'd worked in, the beats I covered, they were places where women had had to fight disproportionally hard for visibility and recognition. We live in a culture that assumes a male default, so given a neutral voice and a character limit, most readers will assume a male author.

But this was different, because this wasn't just a book I'd edited, it wasn't a story I'd reported—it was me, it was my story. And it made me uncomfortable, got under my skin in ways that the other stuff really hadn't. And so I did what I do when that happens, and I tried to sort of reverse-engineer it to look at the conclusions and peel them back to see the narratives behind them and the stories that made them tick. And I started this, I started this by going back to the text of the essay, and you know, examining it every way I could think of: looking at craft, looking at content. And in doing so, I was surprised to realize that while I had written about a number of characters with whom I identified closely, that every single one of those characters I'd written about was male. And that surprised me even more than the responses to the essay had, because I've spent my career writing and talking and thinking about gender and representation in popular media. In 2014, I'd been the feminist gadfly of an editorial department and multiple mastheads. I'd been a founding board member of an organization that existed to advocate for more and better representation of women and girls in comics characters and creators. And most of my favorite characters, the ones I'd actively seek out and follow, were women. Just not, apparently, the characters I saw myself in.

Now I still didn't realize it was me at this point. Remember: self-knowledge, not very intuitive for me. And while I had spent a lot of time thinking about gender, I'd never really bothered to think much about my own. I knew academically that the way other people read and interpreted my gender affected and had influenced a lifetime of social and professional interactions, and that those in turn had informed the person I'd grown up into during that time. But I really believed, like I just sort of had in the back of my head, that if you peeled away all of that social conditioning, you'd basically end up with what I got when I tried to draw a self-portrait. So: a pair of glasses, messy scribble of hair, and in this case, maybe also some very strong opinions about the X-Men. I mean, I knew something was off. I'd always known something was off, that my relationship to gender was messy and uncomfortable, but gender itself struck me as messy and uncomfortable, and it had never been a large enough part of how I defined myself to really feel like something that merited further study, and I had deadlines, and...so it was always on the back burner. So, I looked, I looked at what I had, at this improbable group of exclusively male characters. And I looked and I figured that if this wasn't me, then it had to be a result of the stories I had access to, to choose from, and the entertainment landscape I was looking at. And the funny thing is, I wasn't wrong, exactly. I just wasn't right either.

See, the characters I'd written about had one other significant trait in common aside from their gender, which is that they were all more or less explicitly, more or less heavily coded as autistic. And I thought, "Ah, yes. This explains it. This is under representation in fiction echoing under representation in life and vice versa." Because the characteristics that I'd honed in on, that I particularly identified with in these guys, were things like emotional unavailability and social awkwardness and granular obsession, and all of those are characteristics that are seen as unsympathetic and therefore unmarketable in female characters. Which is also why readers were assuming that I was a man.

Because, you see, here's the thing. I'm not the only one who uses stories to navigate the world. I'm just a little more deliberate about it. For humans, stories formed the bridge between data and understanding. They're where we look when we need to contextualize something new, or to recognize something we're pretty sure we've seen before. They're how we identify ourselves; they're how we locate ourselves and each other in the larger world. There were no fictional women like me; there weren't representations of women like me in media, and so readers were primed not to recognize women like me in real life either.

Now by this point, I had started writing a follow-up essay, and this one was also about autism and narratives, but specifically focused on how they intersected with gender and representation in media. And in context of this essay, I went about looking to see if I could find even one female character who had that cluster of traits I'd been looking for, and I was asking around in autistic communities. And I got a few more or less useful one-off suggestions, and some really, really splendid arguments about semantics and standards, and um...then I got one answer over and over and over in community after community after community. "Leverage," people told me. "You have to watch Leverage."

So I watched Leverage. Leverage is five seasons of ensemble heist drama. It's about a team of very skilled con artists who take down corrupt and powerful plutocrats and the like, and it's a lot of fun, and it's very clever, and it's clever enough that it doesn't really matter that it's pretty formulaic, and I enjoyed it a lot. But what's most important, what Leverage has is Parker.

Parker is a master thief, and she is the best of the best of the best in ways that all of Leverage's characters are the best of the best. And superficially, she looks like the kind of woman you see on TV. So she's young, and she's slender, and she's blonde, and she's attractive but in a sort of approachable way. And all of that familiarity is brilliant misdirection, because the thing is, there are no other women like Parker on TV. Because Parker—even if it's never explicitly stated in the show—Parker is coded incredibly clearly as autistic. Parker is socially awkward. Her speech tends to have limited inflection; what inflection it does have is repetitive and sounds rehearsed a lot of the time. She's not emotionally literate; she struggles with it, and the social skills she develops over the series, she learns by rote, like they're just another grift. When she's not scaling skyscrapers or cartwheeling through laser grids, she wears her body like an ill-fitting suit. Parker moves like me. And Parker, Parker was a revelation—she was a revolution unto herself. In a media landscape where unempathetic women usually exist to either be punished or "loved whole," Parker got to play the crabby savant. And she wasn't emotionally intuitive but it was never ever played as the product of abuse or trauma even though she had survived both of those—it was just part of her, as much as were her hands or her eyes. And she had a genuine character arc. My god, she had a genuine romantic arc, even. And none of that required her to turn into anything other than what she was. And in Parker I recognized a thousand tics and details of my life and my personality...but. I didn't recognize myself.

Why? What difference was there in Parker, you know, between Parker and the other characters I'd written about? Those characters, they'd spanned ethnicities and backgrounds and different media and appearances and the only other characteristic they all had in common was their gender. So that was where I started to look next, and I thought, "Well, okay, maybe, maybe it's masculinity. Maybe if Parker were less feminine, she'd click with me the way those other characters had." So then I tried to imagine a Parker with short hair, who's explicitly butch, and...nothing. So okay, I extended it in what seems like the only logical direction to extend it. I said, "Well, if it's not masculinity, what if it's actual maleness? What if Parker were a man?" Ah. Yeah.

In the end, everything changed, and nothing changed, which is often the way that it goes for me. Add a landmark, no matter how slight, and the map is irrevocably altered. Add a landmark, and paths that were invisible before open wide. Add a landmark, and you may not have moved, but suddenly you know where you are and where you can go.

I wasn't going to tell this story when I started planning this talk. I was gonna tell a similar story, it was about stories, like this is, about narratives and the ways that they influence our culture and vice versa. And it centered around a group of women at NASA who had basically rewritten the narrative around space exploration, and it was a lot more fun, and I still think it was more interesting. But it's also a story you can probably work out for yourselves. In fact it's a story some of you probably have, if you follow that kind of thing, which you probably do given that you're here. And this is a story, my story is not a story that I like to tell. It's not a fun story to talk about because it's very personal and I am a very private person. And it's not universal. And it's not always relatable, and it's definitely not aspirational. And it's not the kind of story that you tend to encounter unless you're already part of it...which is why I'm telling it now. Because the thing is, I'm not the only person who uses stories to parse the world and navigate it. I'm just a little more deliberate. Because I'm tired of having to rely on composite sketches.

Open your maps. Add a landmark. Reroute accordingly.

[tennessoui]

KUWSK is killing me with cuteness like I literally feel my heart clench with every one shot. I was wondering if you could maybe do a lil one shit on the aftermath of the aftermath of the router incident 😭 after obi-wan clarifies he does in fact love the kids and doesn’t want them to leave…I just need anakin to tell obi-wan he wants to stay… love this sm

oh bless, i'm happy to hear you like them!!! this is a bit sappy and also um definitely unedited so 🙈🙈but i think this includes the most obikin content of them all so far which is wild seeing as how my google doc for KUWSK is literally 15k at this point.

(here is the aftermath of the Router Incident, for context)

(1.6k)

Comforting and calming the children, that’s the easy part. Children forget grievances like water rolls off a duck’s back. Adults are trickier.

Adults don’t just forget and forgive.

Obi-Wan finishes the book he’s been reading to the kids. Last night, they had been on Chapter Two. Tonight, the kids are asleep by Chapter Four, but he keeps reading, all the way through the denouement at the end of the book. He knows he’ll have to go back to Chapter Four tomorrow night, knows that he may have bought himself some time but not enough time to make a difference.

But if Anakin really wanted to leave, there was nothing on God’s green earth that could stop him.

He places the book on the nightstand between the two beds and quietly stands, adjusting his glasses.

Finding and signing a lease can happen very, very quickly. He suddenly wants to wake the kids up, just to read another chapter. There are so many books left to finish, but finding and signing a lease can happen...can happen very, very quickly.

How many more chapters do they have left?

The entire time he spends walking down the stairs, he’s hoping that Anakin will have already gone to bed. But the light in the living room is still on, which means Anakin doesn’t want to keep ignoring the elephant in the room, which means in turn that either Obi-Wan can continue down the hall at the bottom of the staircase to his own room and just pretend that he doesn’t know Anakin’s waiting up for him, or he can confront the situation and perhaps even act his age.

He goes to the living room. If he only has a certain block of time left with Anakin in his presence, he’s not going to waste any of it hiding in his room.

Anakin is standing with his arms crossed, looking at the mantle of the fireplace and the photos lined up there. His face is hidden from view, but his posture is stiff.

“The children are asleep,” Obi-Wan says, mostly to announce himself. Which he knows is stupid, seeing as how Anakin most definitely heard him come down the stairs. But suddenly he wants Anakin’s eyes on him quite desperately. He will, in fact, do most anything to have the man look at him. His eyes are so expressive. His eyes are so beautiful.

Obi-Wan shakes the thought from his head and reminds himself of what’s very quickly become his mantra over the past few months. You will not make your housemate into your rebound.

It had sounded so logical when Quinlan had suggested it. So easy to agree to.

“Thanks,” Anakin says, turning to face him. It’s awkward. Anakin hasn’t thanked him for putting the children to bed for months.

“Of course,” Obi-Wan replies, coming into the room completely. “I--”

“I--” Anakin starts, but cuts himself off when Obi-Wan speaks. “You go.”

“Ah,” Obi-Wan stutters. “Well. I. I meant to say. That I...I understand. Obviously. If you were to. Want to leave. You must have had time by now to...have found a place that could. Better fit your needs.”

Anakin clears his throat. “I guess,” he says. “Yeah. I’ve. I’ve looked.”

“You have?” he asks, much too quickly and with much too much painful interest dripping off the words. “And have you? Found a place?”

Anakin hesitates and looks askance at the frames on the fireplace. “No,” he admits. “Not a place that’s. That’s anything like here.”

Obi-Wan’s smile feels so forced on his face that it actually hurts to hold. “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, Anakin.”

Anakin looks at him as if he’s lost touch with reality. “Obi-Wan, come on, you have to know.”

Obi-Wan stays quiet. He doesn’t know anything. Just a day ago he had wondered absentmindedly how they were going to deal with a teenaged Luke and Leia both wanting the singular second floor bathroom in the mornings before school.

And now--well.

“You have to know,” Anakin insists in the face of Obi-Wan’s silence. “I would stay here. If it were up to just me.”

“If not you then who is it up to, Anakin?” he begs and then tries to pretend that he isn’t begging by rubbing a hand over his beard and turning away. He’s faced immediately with a picture of the twins on Christmas morning, passed out in the foreground as Obi-Wan is in the background trying to put together one of their new toys.

It had been one of the most frustrating mornings of his life. He wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“Do you...do you really think...that I don’t--that I hate the twins? Anakin, you have to know I love them--”

“No, I’m sorry,” Anakin quickly says. “I never said that, Luke was just--he--”

“He made his own conclusions,” Obi-Wan finishes.

The other man nods gratefully. “Obi-Wan, I know you love the kids, I know you do. It’s not. It’s not the kids.”

“So if it’s not you, and it’s not the children, it must be me,” Obi-Wan concludes dully. Of course. Of course it’s him.

Anakin doesn’t immediately say no, and that pause is enough of an admittance that Obi-Wan has to pause to take several deep breaths to regain his composure.

“You’ll get tired of it,” Anakin finally says quietly. “You never signed up for us, for this for this long. I don’t want to impose. I--” he turns away to stare at the mantle, where a picture of the four of them after one of the twins’ school plays sits proudly in the middle. “I don’t want to see you growing to resent m--us. You shouldn’t have to tell us to leave. It’s your house.”

“Anakin, if you think it’s just my house still, after all these months, then I don’t know what to tell you,” Obi-Wan scoffs. “Other than to look around. “There’s stains on the ceiling I didn’t put there, we never managed to get Leia’s crayon drawings fully off the walls in the hallway, and I can’t walk twenty paces without tripping over some sort of mechanical part I have no idea what to do with if I try to pick it up off the floor. I haven’t thought of this as my house in months.”

Anakin ducks his head, as if he’s being scolded. “I’m sorry,” he says, barely louder than a whisper.

“I’m not,” Obi-Wan wants to yell, but he’s mindful of the children asleep just a floor away. He walks closer to Anakin instead, and speaks with a quiet sort of intensity. “I’m not, Anakin. And if you leave, it will still not be my house. It will just be--”

He purses his lips and sets his jaw.

“What?” Anakin asks, coming forward to meet him in the middle of the room. His hand twitches as if he wants to reach out and touch Obi-Wan, but he doesn’t.

Obi-Wan shakes his head and swallows, but he figures he’s already committed to this sort of confession. There’s nowhere else to go from here. “A house I live in,” he admits quietly. “A big, quiet place that I’ll dread coming home to.”

Anakin looks speechless, and Obi-Wan tries to smile. He can’t--he shouldn’t pressure Anakin. He’s said his position. If Anakin truly had only been afraid of overstaying his welcome, surely Obi-Wan has assuaged those fears.

But the fact that he hasn’t said anything must certainly mean that Anakin harbors other reservations. Ones he doesn’t want to share with Obi-Wan.

Very well.

“I will not...pressure you,” he tells the man. “I understand. I do. I--”

Anakin cuts him off and grabs his shoulder. “Obi-Wan, I want to. The children want to. I don’t want to leave. I’ve never had…”

Obi-Wan waits on tenterhooks for the end of the sentence, as Anakin searches for the words.

“...a home that feels like this,” Anakin finishes quietly, his hand slipping off Obi-wan’s shirt. Obi-Wan misses the muted heat of the touch immediately.

“Then don’t leave,” he pleads, crowding forward into Anakin’s space. “Anakin, stop looking. Would it help...would it help to quiet your fears if we were to draw up some sort of lease?”

“A lease?” Anakin asks, sounding strange as he looks down at Obi-Wan.

“Just something that says we’ll talk about this every year. To check in and make sure we both still want to live here?” Obi-Wan knows his answer won’t change. Probably won’t ever change. But if it’ll help calm Anakin, he’ll sign whatever.

Anakin seems to think about this for a minute, mouth pursed and eyes downcast. Obi-Wan wants to thumb at the moue of his lips, wants to press against his wrinkled brow until the skin smooths out.

No.

No.

“Alright,” Anakin finally agrees. “We can draw up...a lease tomorrow then. But it won’t be legally binding, alright? As soon as you want us out, tell me and I’ll start looking. Please, Obi-Wan. That’s my only condition.”

Anakin’s only condition to stay is that Obi-Wan will tell him as soon as he wants him to leave?

Does the other man know the extent that Obi-Wan would have tried to go to convince Anakin to stay?

“Alright,” he says, instead of anything else he’s thinking. “Of course. Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Anakin repeats. “Okay. Um,” he backs up. “Goodnight then, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan reaches out and grasps his wrist as soon as he turns to leave. He doesn’t know why. He just. He wants. He doesn’t want to see Anakin go yet. The idea of being alone right now terrifies him in a sort of undefinable way.

“Sit with me?” He says, instead of what he really wants to say, which is thank you, thank you, thank you.

Anakin gives him a sort of half-smile that’s impossible to read. “Sure,” he replies. “I’d like to hear about your day.”

Obi-Wan winces, thinking about how much of his day was spent fretting in Quinlan Vos’ office. “Oh, I’m not entirely sure about that, dear one,” he laughs self-deprecatingly, and Anakin’s smile grows, and Obi-Wan knows that everything is going to be okay.

[thefanficmonster]

You Never Notice

Sykkuno x Reader (Female)

Warnings: None

Genre: Fluff

Summary: The center of someone’s world is never aware of their importance even when everyone else is in the know. People are hard to understand, no denying, but if we all spilled our truth like how Y/N admitted her feelings to Sykkuno, mutual understanding would be achieved a lot more easily. JK, she needed an eternity and maybe a thousand pushes. What’s important is the result though, right?

Requested by Anon. You are my first Sykkuno request and I wish I could thank you with a tag. Instead, I’m gonna thank you with a fic in which I put my all. Thank you for the request, hope the final product doesn’t let you down. 🥰

Here we go again. Sykkuno’s love life is brought up. This time it’s more frustrating cause I can’t shout how wrong he is about himself and the effect he has on the people around him. He has no room to speak, he hasn’t experienced what I have - one of your best friends living in your head rent-free because you’re just that whipped by them. That’s right kids, some of us never grow past the middle school crushes - they are a constant for some. That can be a good or a bad thing, it completely depends on how you view it.

Currently, him and Rae are addressing some dating rumors that started spreading about them earlier this week while Felix, Sean and I are kicking each other’s butts in Party Animals. We’re not all playing together, actually, we were all playing different games when we hopped into the call and just grouped together after playing solo got boring. Rae and Sykkuno are playing Among Us on a random server, her being the only person who’s streaming right now. She said she just wanted to clear up the dating rumors cause they were annoying to see popping up on her feed on every social media platform she’s active on.

“It’s ridiculous, really. People just look for online personalities to put in imaginary relationships. Are they that bored? I know quarantine is getting to everyone, but damn“ Rae says, laughing a bit to take the edge off her words but I know she’s bothered by this ordeal more than she’s letting on. I know how much it bothers her when people ship random youtubers and streamers together, even when she’s not involved. 

And I agree. Ever since I started streaming I’ve been shipped with my friends left and right. First Corpse, then Dave, Joel...you name them. It gets kinda gross cause these people are legit like siblings to me. Unlike Rae, though, I don’t waste my breath trying to clear those ‘talks of the net’ up. I don’t know if it’s for better of for worse that I remain silent on the issue when I’m involved but am willing to stand up for my friends when they find themselves in a similar situation. Some people think the reason I don’t share my thoughts is because the rumors are true, but the hint is most often taken, resulting in the ship ending. Well, that ship ending, there’s always a new one popping up. As Rae said, it’s ridiculous.

“Why does everyone think I am ever dating anyone? I’ve already commented on this: no one would date me.“ Sykkuno says through a sigh-like laugh.

“Why are you so sure?“ I blurt out without as much as a second thought

My eyes widen just a bit, just a bit. I’m not too surprised with myself. I am slowly losing control of my raging emotions and I’m afraid of what I’ll turn into when all my restraints snap. A mess, that’s the most likely answer.

“Well....“ Sykkuno trails off, clearly more than a little nervous, “I don’t have a girlfriend right now, and I haven’t had one in a while...Nor has a girl shown any interest to be more than friends with me in what feels like forever.“

“I’m sure you just don’t notice the hints girls drop. We can be pretty subtle.“ I try to sound as nonchalant as possible while I’m still in my panicked animal mode. And by animal I mean a cub. A scared cub that is now showing confidence but will run and hide right afterwards. I silently thank the universe that I’m not streaming right now. I can feel the heat on my neck and cheeks which is pure embarrassment and would have been more than evident on-camera.

“Yeah Y/N’s right, Sykkuno. Girls can be very subtle, but they will always let you know if they like you, even through the smallest of gestures. You gotta keep your eyes open.“ Rae backs me up reassuringly.

“Guys never notice anything.“ I say, rolling my eyes. I feel the pressure lessen thanks to Rae’s involvement in the conversation.

“That’s not true.“ Sean protests, “We pay close attention, especially to girls we are attracted to.“

“Yeah!“ Sykkuno pipes in again, “I’m pretty sure I would notice if a girl was dropping signals that she likes me.“

Now that stings. That legit makes me wince and cringe as though his voice delivered an actual physical hit to my chest and stomach. It’s really unpleasant, painful even.

“You never notice.“ There’s something about this triple opportunity - proving him wrong that he’d catch onto a girl’s signals; proving him wrong that girls aren’t attracted to him; coming clean about the biggest emotional struggle I’ve experienced in recent years; - that snaps my last emotional restraints. I will totally regret this later, but after the regret comes the relief which is 100% worth it. 

“What?“ He sounds very puzzled. I can just about imagine him frowning as he tries to wrap his brain around something even I can’t wrap mine around.

“You say you’d notice a girl’s hints of attraction. OK.“ I nonchalantly throw Felix off the submarine in Party Animals while I keep talking, “Would you notice if a girl purposely doesn’t kill you in Among Us when she’s impostor? Or would you notice that a girl always sends you links to videos she finds funny? Or that she always shares music and movie recommendations with you and you only?“ 

Dead silence ensues. I feel like they have all glitched, considering Sean didn’t even try to put up a fight when I lifted him and threw him in the ocean as I previously did with Felix’s avatar.

Maybe I was a tad too specific and made the whole situation hit a little too close to home for me. 

Sykkuno and I have become really close friends and we chat and play games regularly. As I mentioned, I give him movie and music recommendations and I only recently started acknowledging the fact that I’ve never killed him in Among Us. Natural instinct I guess. In fact, I feel the need for vengeance when he’s killed. I refuse to even vote for him unless it’s absolutely necessary.

Now that I think about it, it’s not his fault he has no clue. I just don’t know how to properly drop hints.  

“Um...I mean, I guess I would notice but I’d never think they are that type of hints.“ He finally replies.

On point there, dear. On damn point.

“What does it take for you to be convinced that a girl is into you?“ Who cares that a bunch of people are about to witness this outpour? It’ll make it more real, yes, but it will also help me believe that it happened so I don’t try to crawl back to the point where return is an option. No return now. You’ve already passed two thirds of the way. The last one will set you and your mind free. 

“The only way I can be sure is if she tells me, really.“ He sounds so nervous and shy, like he’s trying to draw as little attention as possible.

He doesn’t have to worry. I’m about to pull all the attention on me.

“Well in that case....you leave me no other choice.“ My screen displays me as the winner of this round of Party Animals - an easy one considering my friends are glitched in real life. “I like you, Sykkuno. I like you a lot. And I know you will see it from every context except the one its meant to be in so I’ll be even more head-on - I’ve liked you, as more than a friend for quite some time now, but buddy, you can be sooo oblivious sometimes. Anyway...“ Here’s that regret I was talking about, it’s already creeping in. “Don’t feel the need to say it back. I don’t wanna hear it if you don’t mean it. And Rae,“ I can’t help but laugh at the thought, “Sorry for making your chat go crazy. Peace!“

And I disconnect from the Discord call.

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?“ I say out loud, staring at my desktop. “The cat’s out of the bag and you can move on now.“

I push myself to get some work done in order to get my mind off the mess I’ve created. I’m afraid of thinking about it, I know I’ll get too upset to do anything with the rest of my day if I do.

Suddenly, just as I’m about to open my email, my phone chimes. My brain doesn’t bother to stop my arm from automatically reaching out and checking the notification. A message.

From Sykkuno.

~ I knew you didn’t suggest me ‘My Best Friend’s Wedding’ for no reason

Me ~ So...?

~ So, I’m not the only oblivious one here, Y/N

Me ~ Wait WHAT?

~ ‘Nick And Norah’s Infinite Playlist’?

Me ~ Oooohhhh...I see

It takes him a few seconds to reply, the bubble with the three bouncing dots popping up and disappearing a few times now. I just now feel my heart banging against the inside of my ribcage, my pulse echoing in my ears.

He did seem a little too eager for me to watch that movie...

~ So, movie date?

I laugh, wholeheartedly and honestly. Genuine joy running through my veins.

Me ~ So it is.

The grin that is now decorating my features promises to stay there for the rest of the day. I bite my bottom lip at the thought that pops into my head.

Me ~ Phew, I can stop sparing you in Among Us from now on

He sends me three cry-laughing emojis in return, but I don’t need those. I can just imagine him laughing as he usually does with one hand covering his mouth. And here I thought my grin couldn’t grow wider.

 Imagining him happy makes me smile. His happiness makes me happy. He makes me happy.

Even better...

I think the feeling’s mutual.

[crowtrinkets]

Like a Sailor’s

Turns out when Asra was rehabilitating his apprentice, he may or may not have neglected to teach them a few words. Gender Neutral Apprentice

ALT TITLE: You kiss your mother with that mouth? I don't remember my mom?

Lots of swearing lol, short fic cause I thought the prompt was funny.

Word Count: 1,623

---

The first time I heard the word it was met with a gasp from a mother who whisked her child away from the market. A man was yelling about the price of rice and when he uttered the word it seemed to come as a shock. I couldn't speak at the time so I could never ask Asra what it meant at the time. The man's outburst didn't seem to phase Asra as he continued to peruse the pendulum stand without disturbance. I decided to leave it be at the time.

The next time I was at the docks and a sailor was laughing with his friends, I couldn’t very well have gone up and asked the stranger since it seemed everyone knew what it meant. But I still wanted to know. But again I let my question fall to the back of my mind.

As my life went on I continued to hear the word over and over, still never with an explanation, and with a multitude of contexts. Which further confused me about its meaning.

One day Asra and I had Julian and Muriel over for some tea and it quickly turned into a game of cards. Julian is exceptionally bad at cards, his poker face is terrible. Asra always cheats but Muriel and I know him well enough to call him out when we discover it. At one point Julian uttered it. The Word. The word that has plagued my thoughts with its potential meaning, I decided I was in comfortable enough company and I took the plunge with my question.

“What does that mean?” I turn towards Julian. My question seems to be shocking because Julian gazes at me in astonishment, and Asra looks embarrassed. Even Muriel looks shocked.

“Asra! This is a question for you,” Julian looks uncomfortable trying to shift my genuine question to Asra as he takes another sip of his tea.

“I uh… well I guess I never did teach you everything,” he laughs nervously. Muriel lets out a chuckle. “But maybe it’s best if we talked about this later”

“Asra please!” I reach across the table a grip his hands. “Just tell me” I can see a flush form on Asra’s face. Julian looks to Muriel as they both chuckle, Julian more than Muriel.

“Asra, what does fuck mean?” I plead. Julian starts howling with laughter, nearly spilling his drink. Muriel lets out a snort. This is the most emotion I’ve seen him express ever. I can’t help feeling embarrassed that I'm the only one who doesn’t know. Asra lets out a sigh.

“Well uh, remember when I had to explain some swear words to you? It's like that but it’s a little harsher than other words,”

“Well, what does it mean,”

“Depends on the context my friend,” Julian waggles his eyebrows at me. Asra elbows him in the ribs earning a wince from the redhead.

“Well um, how do I explain it? You use it in multiple ways,”

“Such as?”

“Well, you can use it as an insult?”

“Like ass?” I know that one.

“Y-yes” Asra clears his throat and looks down into his teacup. Julian continues to chuckle as Asra and I go back and forth.

“Oh, you could use it for more than just an insult,” Julian leans in eyes shifting between Asra and me.

“Ilya!” Asra says through his teeth.

“Asra, you have to tell them,” Muriel chimes in.

“Well you can use it as an exclamation,” Asra seems more and more uncomfortable by the second but I can't understand why.

“Like Julian did just now? Cause he got a bad card?”

“Uh yea like that, but I would avoid using it,” Asra reaches for his tea and takes a sip. “You know what we need more tea I'm gonna go make some,” Asra gets up and heads in the completely opposite direction of where the tea is stashed. My gaze shifts to Julian.

“Julian, please tell me what it means,” another snort escapes Muriel and Julian flushes.

“Oh uhh well it can also be used to describe um… activities…” He avoids my eyes as he speaks. suddenly flustered under the pressure of my apparently loaded question. 

“Activities?”

"Er yes… you know activities?" Julian gestures like he's trying to get me to finish the sentence.

"I'm not following,"

"You said you heard the word before?" Muriel cuts in.

"Yes, I've heard it used a lot by the docks, and sometimes Julian says it but I never knew what it meant,"

"Well then just use it in that context," Muriel shrugs and then gets up to go wherever Asra is hiding. Feeling defeated I decide that these three won't answer my question.

"Fine, I'll ask someone else, someone who I know will answer my question,"

"And who might that be?" Julian questions, leaning back in his chair.

"Portia," in an instant I whip around and head downstairs towards the door of my shop. I hear a distinctive "NO" from Julian as I run. I slam the door behind me and head for the palace.

--

I wave hello to the guards as I walk over the bridge into the palace. Portia said she was unable to come over today because she's working. I'm sure me asking a little question couldn't hurt. I poke my head into the kitchen but I don't spot Portia anywhere. I check the ballroom, the library, the verandas, the drawing room. Just about everywhere. I'm starting to loose hope of my search until I quite literally run into a pile of boxes.

"Woah there!" the person carrying to boxes stumbles backwards but then steadies themselves.

"Portia? Is that you behind those boxes?" a tuft of red hair just barely pokes on the side of the boxes. Yup that's definitely Portia.

"Oh hi MC! Yea Milady wanted these boxes moved, and I was the only one available,"

"Would you like some help?"

"Oh thanks but I've gottem! You can help me by opening that door though!" She points her foot at a door a few feet away, to which I walk over and open. Portia places the boxes into the small closet and then dusts off her hands.

"So, not that I don't want you here, but why are you here? I thought everyone was at your shop?" Portia's smile is warm and inviting, but I still shift my weight out of embarrassment. 

"They are, but I wanted to ask you a question," Portia gives me an encouraging nod. I wring my hands together and finally speak.

"What does fuck mean?" Portia's smile falls and her eyes go wide. She then bursts out laughing. Not the reaction I expected but better than avoidance. She stops laughing when she notices my lack of laughter.

"Oh! Oh you're serious!" I give her a nod. "Well uh... You can use it a lot of ways,"

"Like as an insult?"

"Yea exactly, but also you can use it to describe an action,"

"What kind of action,"

"Oh, hrm well you can use it like "let's get fucked up" like when you get drunk with friends," I nod quickly, noting the phrase into my memory. 

"What else?"

"Oh uh... well um... when two people love each other very much-"

"Pasha!" a voice cuts in. We turn to see Julian, Asra, and Muriel turning the corner towards us.

”Why did your run off like that?” Asra asks me.

“No one was answering my questions!” I shift my glare between the three standing in front of me. They all cringe with embarrassment.

"Oh my, I was not expecting guests today," Nadia makes her way around the corner and stops when she sees all five of us.

"Oh milady! I wasn't expecting them either I apologize," Portia chimes in.

"No need for apologies Portia, my friends are always welcome, but what are you all doing here?" 

"Well you see-"

"We were just-" Asra and Julian speak at the same time. Muriel lets out a huff and approaches Nadia. He signals for her to lean in and whispers something in her ear. Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise and her gaze shifts to me.

"Oh my," she says bringing a hand to her chest in shock, composed, but she still seems surprised. Muriel nods in response as he rights himself. "Well I feel I can resolve this situation," Nadia gestures for me to approach her and she leans to whisper in my ear. What she tells me answers the question I've been asking all day. I flush a little in embarrassment but I guess it makes sense.

"That was it!?" my eyes snap to Asra and Julian who are trying to look around innocently.

"My these er, moldings on the ceilings are quite nice, can't say I noticed them before," Julian tries to change the subject.

"Asra, c'mon it wasn't that serious," I say, folding my arms.

"Ah, yea I guess so, sorry for driving you to find other sources,"

"It's ok, sorry for running off," Asra and I exchange warm smiles. Nadia clears her throat.

"Well since were all here why don't we all relax on the veranda?"

"Yknow, all this running around has probably made us all quite thirsty," Julian's signature smug smile plasters itself on his face.

"Well I suppose some indulgence couldn't hurt," Nadia smiles back.

"I'll grab some bottles!" Portia says.

"I'll go with you," Muriel mumbles. The two of them walk off towards the kitchen. Nadia puts her hand on my shoulder.

"You will be joining us yes?" I give her a nod. I look Asra straight in the eyes and try to laugh as I watch the blood drain from his face with what I say next.

"Let's get fucked up,"

[awhst-alt]

I HAD THE BEST BYLER DREAM LAST NIGHT AND I REALLY WANNA SHARE IT WITH YOU ALL

it's so long (literally 2k words) so im gonna put it under the cut haha <3

so basically this would take place after mike and will start dating or something, idk exactly the time frame (i picture them being like 18 or something and this is the summer before college) and will goes to this summer arts program for like 2/3 months (i dunno how long american summer is but something like that) and its all the way far from home so there is dorms and stuff and he's "not in hawkins anymore" (no pun intended)

mike and will decide after will finishes his school they'd go to college together (cuz they're gonna be comic book artists together bc thats boyfriend shit) so throughout these months he's practically just waiting for will (<333333)

so one specific scene i remember from my dream involved will and mike getting off the bus to the school and then they hug and then mike grabs wills hand and brings him behind the bus and then he gives will a biggg kiss bc he won't be able to kiss him for 3 months. then they say they love each other and will gives him another quick kiss and is like "two kisses". they agree they'd call each other every day.

so will goes inside and mike goes back on the bus and goes home.

and basically the whole day is a whirl, until the end of it, in which mike is sitting in the kitchen near the phone waiting for like 3 hours for will to call, and will doesn't end up calling.

AND THEN IT GETS SPICYYYYY

so meanwhile at the arts program will asks like the front desk or something if he can call mike and they say phone is offlimits and they don't let him call mike

so then will goes to sleep and he's paranoid that he thinks mike is gonna hate him or something like that

mk than the next day in class there is this girl (they didn't reveal her name in the dream, ill call her stella) so stella is basically looking at will the entire class but will doesn't know it

so when they exit the class stella's like "hi" and will says "hi"

then stella says "i like your painting."

will is like rlly weirded out so he goes "thanks?"

"i um- hope this doesn't sound weird but i have no friends, do you want to be mine?"

"sure"

and then end of scene (this does not sound like a normal conversation but it's my dream so it doesn't have to make sense"

so BACK AT HAWKINS mike is still sleeping even tho it's like 3 pm because yk depressed boyfriend shit but then the PHONE RINGS and mike gets out of bed frantically and goes to the phone and he picks it up and is like "will?" and then it answers "it's el, idiot"

i feel like this is important for context but el speaks english very well now and hoppers back and she lives with hopper and not the byers anymore. ANYWAYS

el says "how's will?"

mike says "idk he didn't call"

"he didn't?"

"no, he didn't"

"okay. well maybe he will call later"

"yeah mb"

"wanna come over"

"ok"

so mike hangs up and gets changed and goes to el's house bc they r a couple o' besties and when he gets there it's like a therapy sessions bc mike usally talks to will every single day and he can't for like 3 months (unless will calls, but he's not going to) so he accepts he's gonna be depressed for 3 months and he's just talking to el about how he's gonna miss him so much and no be able to see his face and that shit

so el's like "well do u wanna do something to take ur mind off of him"

and mike's like "no im not gonna replace will" (I SCREAMED IN MY DREAM SRSLY)

but than el says "okay. guess im gonna go to the mall by myself" (ig starcourt is rebuilt by now)

and than mike bolts up and is like "fine"

"we can by something for will"

"okay yay"

so then they go to starcourt yasss!!

anyways back at the art school will is having lunch and stella is with he friends (even tho she said she doesn't have any friends) and one of her friends is like "omg did you see _____ he's so hot"

and another friend says "YESS! but ____ is cuter"

"what abt u stella? who do u have ur eyes on"

she says "byers" BUT NOOOOOOO WILL IS MIKES MAN

and they say "ew that kid who came back to life"

she says "yea. but he's cute, and shy, and once i wrap them around my finger i can get them to do anything"

so then she goes to sit down next to will at lunch

"hi will"

"hi"

"hru"

"im good"

"okay. good." and she gets upset because will goes ask how she is but she keeps her urging rage inside. and than they have this weird conversation and will is uncomfortable the whole time bc shes all like flirting with him and will is seeing someone obvi

but then she puts a hand on will's shoulder and he's shaking and then says something (idk what it is it wasn't explaining in my dream) then will stands up and runs to the bathroom. so he's just sitting in the stalls crying.

okay back at starcourt this part wasn't shown in my dream but im just gonna make up that mike and el go looking around starcourt for something for will (sort of like the mike/lucas/will montage where they were looking for stuff for el) and then i guess they find something for will and i don't have the slightest idea what they could have got for him BUT THEY GOT HIM SOMETHING GOOD

so mike's all happy but they'res still that depression inside of him lol

so fast forward a week, it really isn't explained but ill just make up that will still hasn't called mike, and he's super sad and all sleeping in but decides to look through his good ol binder full of will's drawings and in the arts school will and stella have a few more interactions im sure which are still very uncomfortable

okay so it's lunch again in the cafeteria and somehow will and stella are talking again but somehow it ends in stella kissing will and will like pulls away immediatley and is like "what is wrong with you!?"

and she says "what?"

"i'm seeing someone!"

"oh i uh- i didn't know."

the whole cafeteria is staring at them

so will's freaking out almost on the verge of a panic attack "idk what to do, he's gonna hate me and-"

"he?"

will has the look on his face like shit shit shit oh fuck no

"you're gay?"

"i-"

and will runs off once again. and everyone in the whole cafeteria knows that he's day and ofc with everybody being homophobic will knows it's not good at all bc everyone's gonna bully him

so then the next day he goes to class and the teacher is like "does anyone care to tell me where ___ is?" (it would be like a math question like 'where x is' but in art idkkk) and then the teacher calls on "will? can you tell me where ___ is?" and they'res a pause and then the teacher says "or perhaps you'd want to find your boyfriend instead?" (giving me anne with an e vibes prolly cuz i did a rewatch last weekend but i won't explain more in case some people haven't watched it but) anyways will stands up from his seat, everyone is looking at him, and he's shaking and so concerned but then he goes "fuck. you" badass will yeaaaa thats my boy

so then he runs out of the classroom and out of the school in a really cool montage way but then he realizes he's like 2 hours away from home but he runs and runs and he goes to a random bustop (it's not even garanteed if it takes him to hawkins but whatever) he gets on and tries to go back to hawkins.

and soon enough, he gets there, and immediatley goes to the wheelers because he needs to see mike and apologize for everything. so he's at the wheelers, and rings the doorbell, realizing he's still in his uniform lol but karen answers and mike is upstairs in his room sulking (i picture it would be 8 pm by now) so will asks for mike and karen calls mike. mike groans obviously because he doesn't know it's his boy, but he comes down, karen gets out of the way and as soon as he sees will they have a really big hug and it's super sweet and my heart UFHEIOSKA

mike says his usual "are you okay?" and mike is still confused as shit but will says "i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry" and mike says "you don't have to be sorry for anyrhing" but will says "ill explain"

so then they go to will's room, side-by-side on his bed and will starts explaining everything

(this is mostly improvised by me but it's still pretty similar to the dream)

"i hated it."

"the school?"

"yeah. there was no you, (mike blushes lmao), everything was terrible, i felt so lonely, they didn't let me call you-"

"what?"

"they said the phone was off limits. i wanted to talk to you so bad and i thought you'd hate me"

"i could never hate you, will, even if i tried." will smiles

"and then there was this girl, and she hit on me and i didn't know what to do bc i'd be the face of the school if i told her i was dating you and was gay and today she kissed me"

"WHAT"

"im sorry im sorry i didn't kiss back and i was so scared bc i never was in a relationship before and i was so scared it was considered cheating-"

and mike LAUGHSS

"what? mike? what's wrong?"

"if you don't do anything back, it's not considerd 'cheating'"

"oh. good. are you mad at me?"

"what? no! no never!" so mike opens his arms and says "come here" so will and mike hug or something like that and then mike says "do you need me to beat her up?"

and will says "you can't even beat eggs. besides, your noodle arms wouldn't be able to do harm to even a fly"

so mike laughs and says "i'm glad your home"

so will blurts "i cursed out a teacher"

"you? cursing?"

"yes."

"might have to start calling you a bad boy now"

will just smiles and says "i love you"

and mike says "i love you too"

AND THEN END AND IM SO PROUD OF MYSELF BC I LOVE THIS DREAM LIKE I CAN'T BELIEVE MY BRAIN THOUGHT OF THIS BUT IM OBSESSED

ALSO ONCE I FINISH WYBMFFAE ILL PROBABLY WRITE THIS INTO A FULL BLOWN FIC BUT AHIHFUSAH

edit: i have no idea what mike did with the present him and el bought for will but i guess they ended up giving it to him lol

[inkdemonapologist]

Some of my doodles for Session Six of our Call of Cthulhu game!! We finally got back up with that potion-maker from Last Loop and tried to explain EVERYTHING to her, since she’s the one who seemed the most ready to believe us last time (Also, we saw her voluntarily possessed by a spirit at one point, so it seemed like it would be a good starting point to explain some of our problems).

This went.... chaotically, as there are 0 tells for who’s talking and everyone was very insistent on contributing to the conversation. The alive versions of Sammy and Joey mostly stayed out of this mess.

ALSO!! WE’VE PICKED UP SOME NEW INSANITIES! Henry has a mania that compels him to draw/document everything he learns (in case we lose memories or loop again), Sammy still has the mask thing, Joey’s picked up an obsession with symmetry after witnessing his body horrifically transformed by a corruption across half of it, and Sammy, after seeing the Star Pool lurker’s indescribably horrible non-ink-demon form, is filled with a terrified respect for it and has become strangely deferential. I DID NOT EXPECT SAMMY’S SANITY DROPS TO LINE UP SO PERFECTLY FOR CANON PROBLEMS, 

Anyway, have some more out-of-context quotes!! Some of these are just conversation because imagining people trying to hold a conversation with three different voices coming out of “Henry” is my favourite thing now.

[Sammy is played by me, Joey is played by Boo (inkyvendingmachine), Henry is played by Maf (inkcryptid), and Thren (haunted-hijinxer) is our GM!]

[Sammy] *summarising* (So we're gonna run by Josephine and see if she has anything that maybe we should know, uh, based on our current predicament, which has gotten even more complicated than the previous time we talked to her, which hasn't happened yet!)

[Alive!Sammy] Is something wrong? [Henry] No! No, everything's fine. Let's go. [Alive!Joey] ...I don't think anything's been RIGHT for a while...

[Sammy] (Are we, as a, uh, unit -- do we have the mask on?)

[Ghost!Joey] There's... three of us in here? [Ghost!Sammy] Sure, that's a normal thing to say!

[GM] Josephine looks like she is trying to figure out what to say, but she is having... trouble. [Ghost!Joey] Have you ever had someone... hang out with you... during the festival? Like, kind of, possession? [GM] She raises an eyebrow, but nods, and says "Yes, that's part of my duty, as a leader of this religion." [Ghost!Sammy] Fantastic. That seems to be happening to us. [Ghost!Joey] We're not, exactly sure how we managed to get... in the past again... but we're -- *points with Henry's non-sketching hand over at the live ones* [Joey] Live!Joey just confusedly shrugs and sips his coffee. [GM] "...Uh, go back a minute."

[GM] "And you don't know how this happened?" [ghost!Joey] Not exactly? I -- [Henry] Sammy fell into a Star Pool, and Joey got killed, or, was a host for the cultists. [ghost!Joey] I don't know if I got killed, but, [Henry] Well, you looked goopy. [ghost!Sammy] I don't know what was going on with me, either; I still seemed to be running around. [Henry] Also very goopy.

[ghost!Joey] So, that's a confusing answer! Um. Let's pretend *points at alive!Joey* that he didn't listen to you, and he went up to the Star Pools anyway, without the potion, and then something happened up there that resulted in whatever is happening to us now, which included us losing our memories and waking up later as the same... entity, but we didn't know for a while, and.... uh... it looks like the last time we saw our bodies that weren't alive and human still, they looked... corrupted by the Star Pools. [ghost!Joey] Do you know what might've happened to cause all that? [GM] "...I think there's a lot to unpack there," she says.

[GM] And, indeed, one of them has turned up a pair of gloves! It's somewhat worn, but they don't have holes or anything. Though they might not match your ensemble. [Joey] As long as they match each other, that's fine! [GM] They do that. [Sammy] (I mean, Henry has-- not to rag on Henry's fashion sense, as a man who's worn nothing but the same shirt and suspenders for twenty years, but Henry doesn't have much of an ensemble going on, really.)

[chatting while Joey's player steps away for a moment] [Sammy] Sorry for making you guys deal with Alive!Sammy; Ghost!Sammy genuinely doesn't know how to argue for this. [Sammy] It's like, yeah I dunno! Sounds like a raw deal! [Henry] Henry also doesn't know how to argue for this, it's like, Hey! Do you want a whole bunch of awful, horrible, terrible memories? ....No? Oh. [Sammy] CANT IMAGINE WHY!! [Sammy] Like, please? I'd like my body back? ...it's your body, we'd be sharing it-- but not like this situation, uh, [Henry] Just please, take... I have... take Sammy back. [Sammy] Could you take this off of my hands, I'm really tired of dealing with it, [Henry] I love 'im. But I need a break. Please come take your lost.... self. [GM] Your wayward self. [Henry] Who's this sassy lost child. [Joey] *re-entering chat* Ah, we're talking about Sammy. [Sammy] OH MY GOSH.

[Henry] I ROLLED A ONE HUNDRED! [Sammy] Henry is VERY tired and distracted. [GM] Henry's sketching again. He was left unattended for a bit and he's sketching again. [Henry] Yup, [Sammy] *sputters* HE CAN'T BE LEFT UNATTENDED, WE'RE BOTH HERE [Joey] HE LITERALLY CAN'T!! [Sammy] THAT'S THE WHOLE PROBLEM!! SAMMY WOULD LOVE TO LEAVE HENRY UNATTENDED!!!

[Sammy] Is the voice familiar? [Joey]  Is it the Lurker's? [GM] A bit...? [Henry] A bit familiar or a bit like the Lurker's? [GM] ...Yes.

[ghost!Sammy] Joey, what do you think it was? [ghost!Joey] I think it has something to do with our situation, and perhaps the fact that-- [ghost!Sammy] "OUR SITUATION" doesn't really clear anything up, that could be a LOT of things right now!

[Sammy] Sammy doesn't want to be back in the actual time we belong in! He's dead in that one!

[Sammy]  I guess it's also Alive!Sammy's turn. I don't, uh, [Sammy]  ...there's too many Sammys, [Joey] (Alive!Sammy just goes WHAT THE FUCK) [Sammy]  Yeah, I don't think he's prepared, when he turns the corner, to find cultists with swords, and Henry immediately drawing a gun and screaming at them; I don't think he's prepared for any of this, or has a game plan for what to do in case this happens, other than just, yelling, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” [GM] at Henry, or the cultists? [Sammy]  ....BOTH????

[Joey] Does Joey know of any way to interrupt magic? [GM] Injuring someone is a good, classic way to do that.

[GM] So, you can do an attack, whether it's with the gun or with your fists! [Sammy] *flipping through character sheet* I mean, I feel like I'm probably not just shooting him, I-- wHEN DID YOU ADD "DUSTPAN" TO MY WEAPONS???

[Sammy] The idea of Joey just continuously accidentally killing people is REALLY funny to me.

[Sammy] This is going MUCH better than the last time that we fought anybody! [Joey] Apparently Joey just needs to be really angry, and then my dice are like, “yeah, you can kill people.”

[GM] *flipping through the rules* Here we go, "Disrupted spellcasting, for example, if they are shot!" Well, okay then-- [GM] ......ohhh. [Sammy]  Uh, [Henry] "Oh?" [GM] HM! ........ let me get a d8. [Henry] Concern...???? [Sammy]  It's probably fine. It's... it's probably fine. [GM] ........ [GM] Uh..... huh. Well. That's an 8. [Sammy]  On the d8. [GM] Yyyeah,..... you disrupted his, casting,,, it's not a serious spell so most of this stuff is not extreme, but I rolled an 8, and that says, [GM] "A mythos monster is accidentally summoned." [Sammy]  WHAT?? [Henry] WHAT??? [Sammy] WHAT???? [Joey] *dying of laughter in the background* [Sammy]  I DIDN'T KNOW THAT WAS AN OPTION??? OKAY!!! [GM] I didn't think it was, at this level of spell!! [Sammy]  Remember when I said that this was going well? I NEED TO STOP SAYING THINGS.

[Joey] How is Sammy putting on the mask? [Sammy] With his.... hands...? [Joey] No, like, how is it laying on his head, [Sammy] OH.

[Joey] Ghost!Joey would like to turn it so it's like, in the middle of his head. But like, on forehead, so that they can still see. [Henry]  (A fancy visor!) [Sammy] (...you can still see if it’s on the side...) [Joey] (Joey would really like it if we, put it in the middle.) [Sammy] (...I FORGOT YOU HAVE A SYMMETRY THING)

[GM] You felt, when Sammy and the cult leader were both giving the Lurker commands, that there was a kind of tug-of-war going on there, and it seems like the cult leader won that round. [Henry]  Wait, we can give the Lurker commands? [Joey] We're allies. [Sammy] Yeah, we're the host. [Henry]  Oh, um, [Sammy] Sammy asked it for help! It didn't, uh... this is how things always go for Sammy, so, I feel like this is correct.

[Sammy] (...Henry pulls out a gun, someone tries to grab him and he just bashes that person over the head, Joey tries to help by shooting this cult leader to stop him from casting a spell, and this horrible weird bendy monster is unleashed, Henry IMMEDIATELY kneels to this creature, and it starts listening to him, and he grabs the amulet and starts directing it to murder people after pulling the mask down over his face, so, yeah!! I can see that being pRETTY UNSETTLING actually!!)

[Joey] And I've already accidentally summoned a demon, somehow! [GM] This is just how Joey rolls, he just aCCIDENTALLY SUMMONS DEMONS, apparently! Even when OTHER PEOPLE are casting spells, Joey finds a way to accidentally summon a demon!

[Sammy] We do need those; those ARE our bodies running away,

[Lurker, when asked if he can shapeshift] It depends on the host! I didn't do this. It's pretty awesome, though! I feel like this is actually something that was designed to be this way, for the first time I can remember! Deliberate, you know what I mean? [Henry] “Yeah!” Henry says, not knowing what he means.

[Sammy] We're very focused on getting out of here. [Henry] We're channeling Wally Franks! [Sammy] NO! Don't channel Wally Franks! He didn't get outta there he just YELLED ABOUT IT, which is what WE'RE DOING RIGHT NOW!! LET'S ACTUALLY GET OUTTA HERE!

[GM] You guys go around a corner that at least obscures you from immediate sight, though it's good the Lurker is as, uh...... [GM] ........ [GM] ........ [GM] ...uh, for lack of a better word, bendy as he is, [players explode with laughter] [GM] I TRIED, I couldn't think of anything else! [Sammy] NO I SAW THE GEARS TURNING IN YOUR HEAD

[GM] You have a small Bendy. [GM] He's blinking. [Henry] Henry is.... is having, a moment,

[Sammy] We're honoured you're joining us, but we really should get moving?

[Henry] Just let him ride on his shoulders like a kid, that'd be adorable! [Henry] Henry's having SO many emotions right now. He wants to be respectful, but also, oh my god, that's so cute?? and also my OC???? Oh my god??????

[GM] I don't think the Lurker is familiar with the concept of piggyback rides. I mean if he's asked I'm sure he's down for whatever, but, [Henry] Henry's gonna ask the Lurker if he wants to climb on his shoulders and ride. [GM] The Lurker thinks this is a FANTASTIC idea, because nobody has ever carried the Lurker around before!

[Alive!Sammy] Sammy's very pale. [Alive!Joey] You have a... Bendy now, Henry...? [Henry] Uh, kinda! This is the Lurker. [Alive!Joey] “The Lurker”? [Henry] The giant monster? He's... small now, so he's not a giant monster.

[Alive!Sammy] Henry WHAT is going on? Or, whoever you are right now, [Henry] It is me; look, I've been letting the others talk because I have no idea what's going on. I don't know... I just want to get everyone out of here alive. [GM] (What a Henry thing to say) [Alive!Sammy] *snarking* Well, we're alive SO far! Maybe don't run at people with swords, in the future? Might help with that. [Henry] That was Sammy. That wasn't me. [Joey] (*laughing* "By the way, that thing you were lecturing me about? That wasn't me, THAT WAS YOU!")

[GM] The Lurker settles down when it is clear that the hug is not a threat.

[Henry] (I AM LOSING IT! I hope you know what you've done to me!) [GM] (I was not expecting this either but here we are!!) [Henry] (Maybe it was my idea. I can't believe I've done this.)

[Joey] Alive!Joey at some point shows Bendy how to hold the pencil. [GM] He says "Oh, hey, neat!" and has an easier time. [Henry] Oh my god, cute? [Sammy] (*losing it in the background*) [Joey] I was just thinking that if he's sitting next to Henry, and he watches the Lurker fumble with the pencil enough, he's going to just, reach up and-- [Sammy] (I LOST NINE SANITY TO THIS ASSHOLE!!!) [Henry] (But he's so cute!) [Joey] (Well now he's cute, maybe you get some sanity back!) [Henry] (Like petting a cat! You get sanity back from petting the Bendy.) [Sammy] (Yes, he is adorable, I will serve him faithfully.)

[GM] Make a navigate check. [Joey] *rolls terribly* Joey doesn't know where the fuck we're going. [Henry] I missed the navigate check too. [Sammy] Ohhhh boy, we better not get lost... [Joey] Sammy, do you remember where we're going? [Sammy] Oh, don't ask Sammy. Don't ask either Sammy. [Sammy] Alive!Sammy will eventually ask "You DO know where we're going, right?" [GM] You guys..... uh, get lost! Well, let me check one thing. [GM] *rolls* [GM] ... THE LURKER, APPARENTLY, CAN GET YOU BACK TO WHERE HE APPEARED,

[GM] What a useful pocket demon. [Henry] I love our pocket demon. [Joey] I love our son... [Sammy] Joey, [Joey] Firstborn... [Henry] Adopted from a cult! [Joey] We went to Haiti and adopted a son. [Sammy] Sammy's role as third wheel here is getting weirder and weirder.

[Sammy] I can't believe Binoculars is a Bendy fan.

[Joey] (Meanwhile, Ghost!Joey remembers something? There is an inscription on the floor between the laundry room, and Josephine's room, that does not allow the passage of evil spirits. I... don't think the Lurker is going to make it past that.) [Henry] (Ohhhhhhhhh) [Sammy] (Hmm. Also... BRINGING THE LURKER in to see Josephine feels, hostile???) [Henry] (OH... I didn't think about that; he's just my kid now!)

[Joey] (I have literally no idea for Joey.) [Sammy] (Gosh, what a thing to ask... I just have to appreciate, what a thing to ask a Type Three -- "Okay, what's YOU?") [Joey] (Joey looks down at the mask, feeling all of his inner masks,,,) [Sammy] ("I'M COMPOSED OF THINGS THAT MAKE OTHER PEOPLE THINK IM SUCCESSFUL,,,")

[Ghost!Sammy] After you. [Ghost!Joey] Actually, I would feel more comfortable if you went first, [Ghost!Sammy] ...Fine. Fantastic. [Joey] (This is-- I don't know if Sammy can feel it, but this is definitely out of, still thinking about the slight guilt that ran through him when Sammy was blaming EVERYTHING on him, and telling him to keep them out of this,) [Sammy] (I mean, Sammy just thinks this is risky and wanted Joey to be the guinea pig, so, that's nice that you were thinking of him!)

[Sammy] A quick kiss won't be enough time for Sammy to like, stop bluescreening in time to react to this? So, um, uh, he- he just, uh, needs, uh, a- a minute, but he, will be, blushing furiously. I think that's the only reaction! [Joey] Perfect~ [GM] The spirit lady probably flashes him a thumbs up. [Joey] *laughing* Sammy DIES. We did all of this to get him alive again, and he just DIES. [Sammy] SLAIN INSTANTLY.

[chaoticneutralwriter]

First Bite and A Small Death (M)

Temp·ta·tion

/tem(p)ˈtāSH(ə)n/

“  A desire to engage in short-term urges for enjoyment that threatens long-term goals. In the context of some religions, temptation is the inclination to sin.   ”

guardian demon!jimin x reader

genre: supernatural, fluff, angst, romance, slow-burn

word count: 7.6k

related works: see Masterlist under guardian demon!jimin au

Continuation of Star-Crossed

Warning: this chapter contains explicit description of smut!! (i’m gonna list them all even if it’s minor *just in case*): lots of making out, fingering, little bit of nipple play (can you call it that??), oral (f receiving), little bit of face riding (oops), thigh grinding, multiple orgasms, over stimulation, little bit of dirty talk (oooops), body worship, jimin is a tease (what’s new), strip tease??, (also he thicc), little bit of masturbation (oop!), begging, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (*always* be safe, wrap it up!), creampie (there may or may not be lowkey a kink for it oop), little bit of cock-warming (oooops), rather vanilla though so nothing crazy?? lolll)

A/N: i may not be in time for halloween but i am in time for KINKTOBER?! LOLL oh my god, yall my first smut LMAOOO please do not be fooled by the warning list because gurl it’s...yeah, idk LOLL I will say though, that this smut chapter is on it’s own with no ‘real’ story development (like nothing major happens other than they finally bang), so it is entirely optional for those who are not comfortable (or underage *squinty eyes*). You’re not gonna miss out on much if you decide not to read this, I promise. I’m really sorry for the wait once again!! 🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️😫😫😫 life and stuff just gets in the way and writing smut but make it plot and not straight up filth is wow hard. Other than that, i love you all for your endless patience and love for this story!! 💜💜💜 Quench thy thirst!! XDD

Tags:@cherryjiminiee @kokobaekkie @breathebangtan @itsadoozie @thatshylatina @chiminieboi @azulamakesmeblank @sectumsemptae @awkwardwookie @aduky @poisonseashell @shortannoyingginger @caramelmac-chiato @sana-b @jiminstinct @beautifulparisiangirl @taelieninvader @ggukjitaejin @xakemi-chiix @vantaenims @atulipandarose​ @moments-of-melancholy @xclo02 @cherub-kookie @gottadreamitallaway​ @indiesy​

He tastes unlike anything you've imagined, something that can only be described in feelings – like the first sip of buttered rum on a winter's day; how it warms your entire body from the inside out, sweet with a spice that burns a hot trail through you, like caramel that's melted over your tongue, rich and smooth, lingering long after you swallow.

It's intoxicating, and you can't get enough.

Your breath comes out in soft pants as a result of your greed to chase after more of him, but he welcomes you, pulls you in closer until the curves of your body melds into his, no space left between you. Goosebumps rise at the feel of his hands slipping under the hem of your shirt, seeking out the warmth of your skin, dipping into the grooves your spine and mapping out the expanse with the careful traces of his fingers.

You bury your hand into his raven hair, the locks gliding easily like silk through your fingers and tug lightly.

“Cherub...” He groans.  

You hum noncommittally, sucking on the fleshy part of his lower lip and he nearly loses his mind. He brings his own hand up to cup the underside of your jaw then. At his coaxing touch, you open your eyes partially, lids heavy from being lost in the feel of him. Jimin's done an amazing job at controlling the pace of kiss so far; slow and sensual, like he's taking his time to memorize the shape of your lips, drawing you in deeper with every deliberate tilt of his head. You're so pliant, practically melting against him but underneath you're burning up and the heat of you ignites his own desires. Every press of your body to his makes him teeter closer and closer to throwing away all of his inhibitions and it takes everything in him to pull apart if only for a second.

“Tell me what you want cherub.” Jimin rasps, dark eyes locked onto you, voice husky. “Otherwise, I don't think I can stop...”

He really doesn't, not when you look so exquisite – flushed cheeks, kiss bitten lips, out of breath, and pupils blown out.

You swallow, finally able to breathe momentarily and even though he keeps you steady with one hand on your hip, the thumb rubbing tantalizing circles into the skin has you barely thinking straight. But you manage, wetting your lips and it doesn't go unnoticed by Jimin, entranced by the movement.

“...I want this.” You say with quiet conviction. You meet his eyes, unwavering and your heart swells at how attentive he is, putting you above his own desires, even amidst the heated moment just now. “I want you.” You've never been more sure in your life.

Something snaps in him at the words, his eyes going dark and hooded as the hand on your jaw moves to guide you back to him. Your eyes automatically slip shut, the sensation of his lips on yours all you want to focus on. It starts off sweet, as though to reacquaint yourselves again before a hunger takes over, turning the kiss heady. You're left breathless once again, the sounds of your pounding heart intermingling with the soft smacking of lips and you part easily at the first feel of his tongue running across your bottom lip.

He gives you no chance to take control, not like you can when he licks into every crevice of your mouth, the perfect balance between the soft caresses of his tongue on yours and nipping of teeth. It makes you weak in your knees but at the slightest shift, you accidentally press into the leg that has slipped in between yours and you let out a quiet gasp at the friction it causes.

Jimin drinks in the sound greedily, stoking his ego and immediately he's eager to draw more out from you.

You feel his hands pause in their wandering in favour of pressing into the backs of your upper thigh. The pressure naturally makes you lift yourself up and despite how drained he might've looked, Jimin has no trouble carrying you. You cling onto him, legs wrapped around his slender waist, paying no mind to where he takes you. If you're gonna be honest, you were more focused on trying to get the infuriating white shirt off of him, fingers tugging at the thin material across his shoulders but you don't make much progress.

Your back hits the plush surface of a mattress, the only indication that you've probably moved to the bedroom and the new position allows Jimin to nestle his weight perfectly atop you, your legs hugging his hips. He parts from your mouth to trail hot kisses down your jaw, licking and nipping and you tilt your head back to give him better access to your neck, nails raking his scalp. When he reaches the place just below your left ear and gives a harsh suck, you keen, body arching into him.

“Jimi – !!”

Eyes wide, you nearly choke at the speed in which you cut yourself off, mouth snapping shut so hard your teeth clicked noisily. At your sudden abruptness, 'Jimin' lifts his face from the crook of your neck to look at you properly.

“What's wrong? Did I hurt you?” He asks, voice full of concern.

You shake your head adamantly but still otherwise withhold your cause of embarrassment. Your face feels impeccably hot, the tips of your ears and neck burning. You're chewing on your lip, heart beating rapidly for an entirely different reason now and can't help but let your eyes fixate on a point in the high ceiling, useless thoughts racing distractedly in your mind (damn, just how big is this place?).

“Cherub,” You hear him call you softly and then feel the gentle press of his lips to the corner of your mouth in an attempt to draw you out of your head. “Talk to me darling.”

Shyly, you turn until you're able to meet his gaze, though you still have trouble maintaining it. He tilts his head in question, deft fingers brushing through the strands of your hair soothingly and your fingers do the same with the hair at the nape of his neck. After a moment, you swallow, finally mustering up the courage to speak.

“I – Um... I just...Don't be mad?” You mumble and you're not even sure if he's able to understand you completely. But he seems to as a small smile pulls at his full lips, and he gives a reassuring peck on the tip of your nose.

“I won't I promise. Go on, cherub.”

Taking a deep breath in, you blurt out, cringing. “I almost called you 'Jimin' and I felt really weirded out by that.”

He blinks, confused. “....But you always call me 'Jimin.'”

“Yeah, but... that's not actually your name is it? You have a 'true name' don't you?”

Your question shocks him for a brief second before understanding dawns on him, then the smile on his face creeps a little wider and his eyes take on a mischievous glint.

“Someone's been doing their homework....” He drawls playfully. “I wonder when did that happen...”

You pout at his implication and he's swift to kiss it.

“I just so happen to come across it at the moment okay? And it made sense.” Another kiss, this time on your cheek.

“You're not wrong; demons do have 'true names', as do all supernatural beings.”

“Really?” Your interest is piqued, but you find it's waning very quickly with every press of his mouth – he's clearly more interested in kissing every part of your skin he can reach. You manage to breathe, “Then...what's yours?”

He hums against your chin in response, “There's power in a name, love. It's not something we give out easily.” Then he rears up, looming over you and in a low voice, he says, “But perhaps I'll tell you if only to hear what it sounds like falling from your lips.”

The dark pensive look he gives is filled with a promise that makes an involuntary shiver run through you and you shift almost restlessly, pulse quickening. He smirks and he looks every bit a demon that he is, hair tousled and shirt practically falling off one shoulder as he leans down until his kiss swollen lips hover over yours.

“Cute...”

He presses the word teasingly onto your cupid's bow and you huff a little, miffed at the way he coos, obviously aware of the effect he has on you. The provocation does more than just rile you up though; it has you daring to bite back.

“Well, what name am I supposed to scream otherwise then?”

Your bold utterance makes the demon above you freeze and you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel immensely satisfied. The light smirk that had been on his face falters, and for a moment, his mouth just hangs slightly parted, baffled at what he heard. You feel the corners of your mouth twitch.

“What? Did I fluster a de – ah!” Your smug jab gets cut short when you feel a sudden pressure between your legs, causing you to throw your head back as pleasure shoots through you. It leaves your neck exposed and vulnerable and Jimin takes full advantage, going back to give a punishing nip.

“Little minx...” He growls next to your ear, causing a quiet whimper to leave you at the sound, the vibration going straight to your core and your body moves on its own, grinding against the firm thigh pressed into you for relief. The heat creeps back fast and the feel of his hand sliding under your shirt has you sighing out. He breaks away for a second to remove it completely, the air further cooling your warm skin before Jimin's searing kisses trail a new path down your collarbones and the valley between your breast, purple bruises blooming in their wake.

He revels in the soft sighs and pants you exhale, but with each sound it becomes harder for him to control himself, wanting nothing more than to rip away your remaining clothes and bury himself deep in you. He's determined to take his time with you though; to touch and learn all the planes, dips and curves of your body, what makes you sigh, moan or in your words, scream (he shivers in anticipation at the thought) as if you're a language he wants to become fluent in.

And when his hand pushes past the cup of your bra, thumb brushing against a nipple, the hitch in your breath lets him know his patience will be worthwhile.

Your grip on his shoulders tightens, chest pushing into the palm of his hand and at your eagerness, he reaches around to unclip your bra. It falls away easily, tossed aside with little care and wasting no time, his lips latch onto a bud as his hand continues to toy with the other. He tends to them with great care, sucking and rolling with his tongue while letting his teeth occasionally graze over them. Only when they've pebbled does he switch over, making sure to give the other the same treatment that has you gasping and moaning, all the while still keeping his hands busy groping and kneading you.

Once he's satisfied, Jimin releases the pert nipple with a wet pop, and as if for good measures, he blows gently over them, the sudden chill sends goosebumps erupting and you whine. He's quick to placate you with a press of his lips to yours, though you still feel the ghost of a smile at your reaction but you find you can't stay anywhere remotely mad at him, feeling so needy of his attention and him being more than happy to give it to you.

“How long I've dreamt of this...Having you beneath me...” You hear him murmur almost to himself between the languid kisses and the haze of arousal, the words a mixture of being reverent and possessive as does the hand that trace along your abdomen, going lower until they find the button of your pants, prying them open with the zipper and you shift in anticipation, pressing your body into his.

“To ruin you until the only pleasure you know is mine.”

The mewl falls from you instantly when he presses into your folds for the first time, hips rising and he groans at how wet you already are, easily coating his fingers. He rubs along your slit in lazy strokes before circling your clit with the pad of his thumb and you twitch, legs spreading apart. For a good minute or so, you have trouble forming coherent words, any attempts only resulting in breathy whimpers as your nails dig into his biceps.

He doesn't seem to mind, actually loving how receptive your body is and it's with that thought in mind, he pushes a finger into you. Your head falls back, moaning at the feel of the digit sinking knuckle deep inside, sliding in easily. You hear Jimin curse, pausing in his open mouthed kisses at the juncture of your shoulder to take in the way your walls squeezes around his finger, even as he pulls out halfway to thrust back in experimentally.

You can barely keep yourself from writhing, growing steadily impatient with need and how unhurried he seems to be but before you can muster any strength for a complaint, you feel a second finger and you let out a choked gasp instead. He stretches you with a scissoring motion, letting you get accustomed before he begins to set a pace.

Jimin leans back to watch you, eyes drinking in the glassy, half-lidded look in your eyes and your dishevelled appearance; mouth parted and your chest heaving with every moan, flushed and covered with his marks while shamelessly rutting yourself against his hand with every thrust. At the crook of his fingers, your hips stutter and your eyes nearly roll shut. You're quite the sight to behold; his jaw clenching subtly in effort to maintain his composure and focus on you rather than the erection straining in his jeans.

Soon, your moans grow a little louder, your breathing becoming more shallow and the furrow in your brows lets Jimin know that you're getting close, hips bucking up desperately on their own to chase your high but just as you're within reach, he stops, pulling away and you're left feeling frustratingly empty.

“Ugh! J-Jimin!” You whine loudly, voice pitching as if you're on the verge of crying. “I was so close...!”

He gives a throaty chuckle, the sound enough to draw your attention and immediately any more petulant protests are silenced when your eyes meet deep crimson irises that glow dangerously in the dimness of the room.

“I meant what I said cherub,” He says in a husky timbre, ruby eyes never leaving yours as he brings his fingers glistening with your juices to his lips, “You'll be ruined by the time I'm done with you.” And sucks them off clean, humming in approval as he visibly swallows, Adam's apple bobbing.

You clench around nothing at the sight, failing to hide the wave of arousal that shoots through you ten times more intensely than before. God, it always seems like you eat your words a lot when it comes to him, only this time you find you have no regrets for trying to outplay him in his own game.

Every nerve ending in you is vibrating with excitement at what he plans to do and you're not sure if it's a good or a bad thing that he's very well aware of that fact because you know he'll definitely take advantage of it, if the devilish gleam in his eyes is anything to go by.

“Let's get you out of these, hm?”

Your hips lift as he tugs your pants and slides them off along with your soaked panties, discarding them to the side. Now bare of any clothes, you can't help feeling a little self-conscious, an embarrassing heat creeping from your neck all the way up to your face seeing as how he's still fully clothed, much to your chagrin and his piercing gaze is fixated on you. They drag over every inch of you intently that it has you wanting to curl in on yourself but he stops you by situating himself between your legs and a comforting hand rests on your hip bone.

“You don't need to hide from me, cherub.” He says softly, leaning over briefly to place a chaste kiss on the corner of your mouth, “You're beautiful.” Then he descends downwards, skimming those pillowy lips over the divot of your collarbone, your breasts, stomach and navel until he shuffled to have your thighs resting comfortably over each shoulder.

You watch him with baited breath, so tense and hyperaware of how close he is to where you want him yet you're captivated in the way he's meticulously placing kisses on your inner thigh, nosing along the supple flesh and trailing lower. He chases away any insecurities you might've felt before with every worshipful press of his lips and you willingly part your legs wider for him.

“You smell so good.” He groans appreciatively on an inhale, eyes deepening to a rich maroon as his mouth finally reaches your centre, still dripping and aching for him. It makes Jimin's mouth water, mind already so hazy from that small taste earlier which is why he doesn't hesitate a second longer to dive in, licking one long stripe that has you throwing your head back against the sheets, eyes shutting and exhaling a breathy moan.

You feel one of his hand come up to push your hips back down, keeping you in place as he begins to ravish you.The sounds pour out of you unadulterated with each flick leaving you gasping and mewling senselessly. It only spurs him on, tongue swirling and teasing your nub to coax more of your wetness which he laps all of it up hungrily, letting out a deep moan of his own. The vibration sends a shockwave through your body and your hands fly out from clutching at the sheets to ultimately burying themselves into raven locks.

“So sweet....” He mumbles into your cunt, fingers spreading your folds apart. “All for me.”

There wasn't any hope for you to form an answer, his tongue dipping into your sopping hole and you keen. He works the pink muscle in like he's French kissing you, prodding and reaching places you didn't think possible until it has your walls fluttering and you pull him closer, wanting him deeper still. Jimin doesn't resist, continuing to tongue fuck you with his nose buried into your pussy and you practically riding his face, the amount of raw lust feeding him in more ways than one.

Your chest is heaving from trying to keep up with the onslaught of stimulation but also in a fight to not let the coil tightening in your gut to snap so quickly, head numb with pleasure-filled high that has you barely able to convey a fraction of the jumbled thoughts in your mind.

“Please....! I – Mmph!” You manage to gasp out, hands slipping from Jimin's roots momentarily.

To your relief, Jimin slows down, giving one last lick with his flattened tongue before pulling back. It gives you the chance to finally breathe, lungs burning as you inhale much needed air.

“What is it, cherub?” He purrs, the pads of his free hand stroking much too closely along your inner thigh. “What do you want?”

You manage to prop yourself up on your elbows, swallowing and licking your dry lips and finally able to pry your eyes open for the first time, blinking away the blurriness to focus down on Jimin. You wanted a lot of things; to cum on his tongue, to not cumming until you feel him too, to give him pleasure like he is to you, his name which he hasn't given yet, to maybe remove that damn shirt that he's still wearing for whatever reason but all of that goes flying out the fucking window when you lay your eyes on Jimin.

He looks like the embodiment of sin bathed in moonlight; shadows half concealing his face and cutting sharp, defining angles, hair as dark as the night itself, mussed but falling so effortlessly into hooded eyes that glow in liquid lust, a hypnotizing, deep blood-red ruby as his full lips and chin shine with your essence.

Fuck, he just looks so good between your legs like this, and so obviously content with being there from the way the hunger in his gaze has not yet shown signs of being satiated, not even the slightest. And it makes you want to give as much as he is taking, though come to think of it, at this point you're not sure which is which anymore.

You don't realize your thoughts had wandered off from their intended course, but Jimin is quick to catch on and intentionally gives his bottom lip a titillating swipe of his tongue, smirking at the way you bite yours in response. He chuckles, repeating his question as he almost absentmindedly starts giving you kitten licks, nibbling along your lower lips. “What do you want cherub?”

You go lax, softly whimpering and you flush abashed, a pretty pink deepening your cheeks and Jimin can actually see how hard you're trying to pull yourself together, brows furrowing in concentration and fingers pulling at the bedsheets under you. He doesn't mean to, but the sight makes him even more tempted to unravel you faster, see you become undone because of him. Suddenly, every one of his nerves is itching for it, and so preoccupied with...other things, you miss the way his eyes narrow with newfound impatience.

Focus! Use your words. How – ?

“I...haah – I want – need...you, please!” It's all you manage to get out, a desperate half-pleading and whining but you hope it's enough to get across to the demon. He hums in feigned thoughtfulness, the sound too close to your sensitive pearl and your legs would've clamped shut on Jimin's head had it not been for the strong hold that keeps them apart. You're thankful because you think you would've combusted, horrified but the feeling doesn't last as you feel Jimin inserting his finger in you again, your walls contracting and you let out a surprise squeal.

“I'll get back to you on that, sweetheart.” Was the only reply you get and whatever half-baked arguments you had is immediately forgotten when his tongue begins to work in tandem with his fingers. He laves at you firmly while he thrusts deeply at a steady pace, quickly getting a second digit in and crooking them to rub at the rough patch of nerves, making you throw your head back, mouth falling open. Your body reacts as if it has a mind of its own, hips writhing uncontrollably under the hand still pinning them in an effort to meet each thrust until they jerk at the feel of a third finger pushing in.

You groan at the stretch and Jimin slows down fractionally to let you get used to it but the amount of slick gathered made for the slight burn to pass quickly and soon you're begging him to go faster and harder. He all but happily obliges, picking up speed and swiping his tongue and lightly suckling your clit relentlessly that your hands scramble to cling onto the pillows and sheets for dear life. You hear just how wet you've become, the squelching noise that comes every time he flicks his wrist much louder than before and the lewd sound has you growing hotter by the minute from both embarrassment and arousal.

Your elbows are shaking; how you managed to still remain somewhat upright is a miracle but you know it won't last for much longer, the knot in your stomach becoming almost unbearable, walls clenching with your impending orgasm. All the words you attempt to get out in warning ends before they can leave your mouth, turning into nonsensical babbling mixed in with your increasing moans. So in your brilliant half coherent mind, you muster enough strength to peel your eyes open to look down at Jimin, to try to get his attention that way, only to find that it was a lost cause.

Jimin's eyes were shut, so engrossed in eating you out as if there's nothing else in the world he'd rather be doing. You watch his fingers disappear in and out of you, coated in your wetness and mouth parted slightly to let his tongue work quick, short flicks over your engorged bud. You're a hair's breadth away from falling over the precipice from the erotic sight alone, but as if sensing your eyes on him, he glances up, locking you in a smouldering gaze that has all thoughts leaving you. Then he encases his lips around your clit and sucks and you're gone.

You cum hard, head falling back, body tensing and arching up as you let out a long strangled moan, toes curling and legs shaking. Jimin can't help but let slip his own moan as your orgasm washes over you and into his awaiting mouth. He helps you ride it out all too eagerly, your taste his new addiction and he slurps up your release like he wants to drag it out for as long as he can until you're whimpering from over stimulation.

He finishes with a soft kiss grazing the inside of your thigh, letting your legs go limp on their own and leans back on his knees nonchalantly, taking the time to wipe his chin and mouth with the back of his hand before licking it clean, as if you're not panting like you've ran a marathon and he just didn't give you the best oral you ever had. Slowly, you blink your eyes open (when had you shut them you don't know), dazed from practically seeing stars as you look at him through bleary eyes.

Noticing that you've come back down from cloud nine, Jimin crawls over your splayed out form and grins down at you roguishly, very much looking like the cat that ate the canary.

“You doing okay?” He asks with a slight tilt of his head.

Heart still thundering loudly in your ears and chest, out of breath, hot and a little sweaty all over, you manage a weak raspy hum in acknowledgement but it's enough to earn you a chuckle and a kiss. You lean up as much as you can into those plush lips, tasting yourself in the process and you sigh deeply, your own tongue brushing against the roof of his mouth to chase more of it. Your hands lift automatically to pull him in closer but instead of feeling bare skin and rippling back muscles, you whine out in complaint, grabbing a handful of the offending cotton short sleeve and give a harsh tug, impatient.

“Can you get this fucking shirt off already? Why do you still have it on?”

A rush of air tickles your cheek as Jimin huffs through his nose in response. He pulls his lips away from yours with a soft smack.

“Sorry, must've slipped my mind.” His eyes gleam deviously, “If you ask nicely, maybe I'll take it off finally.”

“I will literally rip this shirt if I have to.”

Your deadpan earns you a breathy laugh but you're completely serious. Luckily for you, you don't have to because in spite of Jimin's teasing, he's just as worked up as you are so he retreats to stand at the end of the bed, reaching up and pulling the shirt over his head in one fluid motion. You rush to sit upright, your eyes pinned to his figure and your breath hitches as he tosses it to the growing pile of clothes on the floor.

The first time you've seen him shirtless was when you had nursed him back to health after that night and given the circumstance, you had refrained yourself from staring inappropriately. The most you're sure of is that he has a lean build with maybe a little less weight. Now when you're allowed the luxury, you're almost ashamed to admit that you're barely able to handle it. You see the fine lines that make up the sinewy muscles of a toned chest and abdomen, tapering down to a thin waist with deep v-cuts that you can't help but let your eyes get lost trailing to a very obvious bulge below the belt of his jeans sitting low on his hips (you unconsciously swallow, mind immediately going straight into the gutter).

There are signs that he's gotten slimmer but it's like with the way he's naturally built – broad chested, rounded torso – he'll never end up looking scrawny from it, the weight loss showing more in his face than his body. He's still every bit a marble Greek sculpture, and that's actually quite unfair.

But then you see his veiny hands begin to unhook his belt and it's here that you think you truly stop breathing. You watch almost wide eyed and lips parted, glued to the way he loosens it and dexterously undoes the button of his pants, then the zipper as if in slow motion before he pushes them down to reveal his Balenciaga boxer briefs. He steps out of the denim smoothly, and the black cotton he's left in has you biting back a groan – they hug his strong thighs like a second skin and do little to hide the damp patch and the thick outlines of his erection.

You rub your thighs together restlessly, feeling yourself growing damp as his fingers slip under the band of his briefs to drag them off completely. His cock bounces in the air, finally freed from their confines and curving slightly up towards his stomach. He's only a little more than average in size but god he was as thick as from what you could see through his underwear with a prominent vein on the underside of his shaft, head flushed dark and already dripping with pre-cum. Your inner muscles clench involuntarily.

Even his dick is beautiful – honestly something that you shouldn't be surprised at but you bemoan the fact nonetheless.

You don't even realize the small whine you let out when he wraps a firm hand around the base and slowly begins to pump himself, biceps flexing.

“What's wrong? Isn't this what you wanted?” Jimin's dulcet tone is light and teasing but you catch the subtle airiness lingering in the question, the only indication that he's as relieved to be out of his clothes as you probably are. His thumb swipes at the tip of the bulbous head to smear the pre-cum down his length and he takes in a deep breath, breathing in the heavy scent of your lust and arousal spiking again and the absolute tortured look on your face has his cock twitching in his hand.

“You're such a fucking tease!” You keen out, pushed to your limit and in the heat of it, you let slip all your deepest desires, “I wanted to cum with you inside me. Let me suck you off at least please, I want to feel you.”

His eyes flash and his hand stops in their tracks as you hear a deep growl rumble from his chest. It's the only warning you get before he's climbing atop of you again and your thighs automatically part to make room for him, pulling him flush as he kisses you hard, hips pressing into yours and you moan contently into his mouth as he grinds himself against you.

“Fuck, I can't believe I'm turning down getting sucked off by that needy mouth of yours.” Jimin says through gritted teeth, sucking your bottom lip.

“Mm, I'll make up for it. I just need you in me, do you have a con –  ” Your mind clicks with a moment of clarity; you made it a force of habit to ask the few times you had a sexual encounter, better be safe than sorry and all, but that's just with another human being, not a demon. Your furrowed confused brows has Jimin pulling back slightly, a question in his crimson gaze before you ask, genuinely curious, “Do demons need condoms? Is the whole thing about getting impregnated by a demon true?”

A beat passes and then Jimin snorts, turning to bury his face into his shoulder and clearing his throat, he replies, biting back a smile, “No, it's not true. Demons, and a few select supernatural beings, are sterile upon creation. Wouldn't make sense for God to let demons procreate freely would it?”

“Huh...No, it wouldn't.” You agree, tucking away the new piece of information you've learned. It makes you wonder where that whole concept had come from, but you heard it straight from the source; if an actual demon says they can't impregnate anyone by nature then there's no  need for a condom. That's relieving you guess, one less thing to worry about.

Wait, then doesn't that mean....

Almost instantaneously, heat floods through you, starting from your cheeks, all the way down to the tips of your toes and you find it hard to meet Jimin's eyes. Not that you would need to for him to notice how you've gone suspiciously quiet, and from your reddening cheeks and nervous lip biting, it doesn't take long for him to put two and two together. You've shocked him for the second time tonight but it quickly wears off, replaced by a wicked smile stretching across his lips as he watches you squirm under him, caught red-handed and he's never been more turned on than he is now.

You're really going to be the death of him.

“Oh cherub....” He chuckles, low and sultry, a concealed excitement buzzing in every word. “Do you want to feel me cum in you, fill you up until you're full and dripping of me? Is that what you want?”

You visibly swallow, trying but failing to hide the way your breath catches in you throat at the filthy words spoken in such a velveteen voice. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Why did he have to make it sound so seductive, so enticing that now that's all you can think about, and the more you do, the more you crave for it.

He shifts to reposition himself, supporting some of his weight on his elbow as one of his hand reaches between your bodies to grasp his length, rubbing it along your wet folds to further lube himself. He feels so hot and hard that that alone sends shivers of anticipation running through you, hips rocking up on their own but he doesn't make a move to do anything more.

“You didn't answer my question.”

“I want it,” You whine without any restraint. “Need you so bad. Please!”

Jimin preens, eyes beaming. “That’s my girl.”

You feel the blunt head of his cock begin to slowly push in, inch by inch until you gasp, tensing and involuntarily your walls clench as you feel the thicker part of his girth enter you, the stretch a little discomforting. Jimin grunts, head bowing into your neck as he stops, a steady hand on your hip bone.

“Relax for me, love.” He strains, placing soft kisses into your warm skin. Your eyes flutter shut, willing yourself to be lulled by his gentle coaxing and once he feels your body easing again, he continues. You try to ignore the burning sensation but a small whimper slips out. Jimin shushes you, whispering sweet encouraging words in between the press of his lips. When he bottoms out, you both let out a shuddering sigh. He stills, arms coming up to brace himself on either side of your head, letting you adjust to the feel of him inside you.

“You okay?” Jimin asks, nuzzling into your cheek, pulling away long enough to brush away a few strands of your hair.

You inhale shakily, eyes peering open to lock with his. “I – Y-Yeah, just...give me a second...” The burning from the stretch has ebbed into a manageable dull ache – still uncomfortable but not as bad as it was initially. You're not quite sure if Jimin moved now, it would get worse or better.

Well, guess that's something you'll have to find out.

“Can you...go slow?” You ask tentatively, unsure if you're being too much. You can practically feel the amount of tension in Jimin's body, like a live wire pulsating with energy yet he's holding himself back for your sake, nodding without a single moment's hesitation. Your heart flips, overwhelmed with emotions that you can't find the words to properly express, how thankful you are to have him here for as long as you have; as a dutiful guardian who has looked out for you, as a friend who quietly supported you, unwaveringly, and now as a lover – passionate, selfless and tender. Without knowing what else to do, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in until your mouths connects, pouring everything you have to convey even an ounce of your feelings.

Jimin startles at your sudden earnestness, so it takes him a second to recollect himself before tilting his chin to better mould his lips to yours and easily deepens the kiss. It helps distract you enough for Jimin to carefully withdraw himself, just enough to still be inside before pressing back in one smooth stroke. The sharp gasp you let out makes you break away but a moan follows quickly after as Jimin begins to move.

The room soon fills with your sighs and pants that intermingle with his, the pain long forgotten and you're left feeling so incredibly full instead. Through half-lidded eyes, you see him watching you, transfixed on the pleasure that's overtaken your face, blood-red irises glowing with the heat of molten lava.

“You're such a good girl cherub, taking me so well.” He says, voice husky and breathless as he continues to roll his hips into you, each thrust slow and deep that has you feel every inch of him, loving the way your warm velvet walls hug him so tightly, like you're meant to be his.

You squeeze around him at the praise and he hisses, hooking one of your leg around his waist and going a little harder. You cling onto him, wanting him closer even when your foreheads press together, nails raking down his back and feeling the strong muscles flex under your touch. Your bodies move rhythmically, like the push and pull of ocean waves crashing along the shores that drag you farther and farther until you're drowning in him.

You want to stay like this forever if you can, connected and entwined. At least this way, you're allowed a small piece of comfort where everything else fades away – no uncertainty for the future, no demons, angels, heaven or hell.

In this moment, there's only you and him.

But you feel your end approaching, the pressure in your stomach building faster than you would have liked and so in tuned with your body, Jimin quickens before you get the chance to try and delay the inevitable. The moans that tumble past your lips are muffled by his hungry kisses, a mess of tongue and teeth that leaves you out of breath yet even still, you will yourself to resist. However, Jimin doesn't let up, determined to have you cum again before him.

A gasp rushes out when you feel his thumb on your clit, head falling back and you know it's a losing battle.

“Let go, Y/N. Give in to me.” Jimin whispers lowly, his breath hot against your ear, nibbling at the tender lobe. “Give in.”

You succumb to his words, the dark temptation too sweet falling from honeyed lips, crying out, body seizing with your orgasm that rips through you and swallows you whole. Jimin moans at the vice-like grip of your walls sucking him in and his hips stutter, slowing to let you ride out your high before he pushes through in pursuit of his own. You let out a strangled whimper, oversensitive and mind still foggy but you don't stop his steady rocking in spite of it – you hold on tighter as if he's the only anchor you have.

The sight of you unravelling beneath him had been magnificent, having never seen such a raw, carnal side to you but this night had blessed him with so many, more than he could've ever hoped or imagined. You were beautiful, the look of absolute pleasure looked so good on you. Jimin doesn't think there was anything else that could hold a candle to you.

Yet now, lying bare on his mattress – eyes glossy, the pure ecstasy on your face with the sheen of your sweat and afterglow from your post-orgasm bliss beneath the pale moonlight – you look divine.

He's not going to last much longer, head swimming with the sounds of your moans and drunk off of a pride from knowing that this is all his doing and that no one, not even Jimin, will ever be able to have you this way.

You're getting embarrassingly loud, every ragged breath you struggle to hold back the noises that follow after as Jimin drives into you roughly, the wet slaps of skin where his pelvis meets yours growing with each powerful snap of his hips. His brows are furrowed in an almost pained expression, throaty moans only increasing, letting you know that he's close.

“P-Please...!” You hiccup, nails digging into the back of his shoulders. “Nn! H-Hah! N-Need – ah! Need you – ! Cum in m-me! Please!”

In your pleasure riddled mind, you hear him whisper it – an intimate secret shared between you in this stolen moment, hidden by the darkness of night.

“Call for me, Y/N.” Jimin rasps, urging you, body caging you in and you're surrounded by him, no way for you to escape. “Call my name.”

You breathe it in as he seals it with sloppy kisses and you try to return them with the same fervour however, you pull away too soon, head thrown back, your control over your body gone and your lungs scream at you for air but you choose to call out to him instead. You say his name over and over like a broken prayer, you say it as you beg for him to fill you, make you his.

You say it until you're sobbing, feeling a new wave of an oncoming orgasm building again.

Spurred on, he pushes faster, cock swelling and thrusts becoming erratic in wanting to reach his climax with you. Your body is writhing uncontrollably but he keeps you in place, not letting up. He sucks open mouthed kisses onto your breasts, collar, neck like he means to devour you and it proves to be too much and you cum with a choked wail, shaking. He follows soon after, burying in your warmth as he empties himself inside you, a deep guttural moan tearing from his throat. He slows until he's grinding shallowly and you let out a quiet shivering whine, soaked walls coated in his milky essence pulsating from the aftershocks and squeezing a few more spurts, making him muffle a groan into your shoulder before he stops.

You both lay in each other's embrace, chest heaving, the sounds of your harsh breathing in sync as is the pounding of your hearts, boneless and completely spent. You're tingling all over but you're content like this, still joined and the comfort of his weight on you. He doesn't rush to part from you either, basking in the rare tranquil peace while pressing soft lazy kisses, retracing the path of his marks until he reaches your mouth.

You let his lips brush chastely against yours – you'd return them with a little more effort if you weren't so tired and fighting the urge to sleep. He pulls away enough to caress the knuckles of his fingers along the edge of your eyes and it's only then you realize the stray tears that had streaked past your lashes, your body's natural reaction to the intense amount of stimulation.

When he finally slips out of you, you shudder at the lost and feeling the heat of his cum seeping out of your hole, thick and wet – the image of your combined releases staining the sheets below sends a tremor rippling through you delightfully. The bed dips as he rolls onto the mattress beside you but your hands blindly seek his touch immediately, sighing when he gently pulls you flushed to him, enveloping you in his arms. He tucks your head under his chin and you blink heavily, vision becoming unfocused with fatigue.

“Sleep if you're tired, cherub. I got you.” You hear him murmur against the crown of your head.

You let out a weak hum in protest, afraid that when you next wake, he'll no longer be there but the gentle combing of your hair subdues you quickly, so you hold him close and drift off to the warm scent of spices and burning cedar wood.

[petersasteria]

Homework Help - Peter Parker

Pairing: Peter x Single mom!Reader

Both are aged up and I thought that y’all might want to read a regular one shot for now to take a break from the Disney theme.

PP Masterlist

1.8k words

* * * *

Your 5 year old son, Aidan, was having trouble with his homework. You couldn't help him because you were currently in a Zoom meeting in the living room. Aidan was having trouble figuring out what 8+9 was. He looked out the window and saw something red and blue.

As a curious 5 year old boy, that was enough for him to abandon his homework. He got out of his seat and walked towards the window. He looked out the opened window and saw Spider-Man sitting on the fire escape. Aidan grinned and slowly and carefully got out of the window. Successfully getting out, Aidan stood behind Spider-Man.

Peter felt a presence behind him and he turned around and saw a cute little boy standing behind him. They just stared at each other and Aidan giggled after a second, "Hi 'pide-man!"

Peter smiled under his mask and fully turned to the kid, "Hi there, lil' fella!"

"I need help." Aidan frowned and pointed at his desk. Peter glanced at his desk and saw an activity book that pre-school gave to kids to take home. He turned to the kid and asked, "Homework?"

Aidan could only nod.

"Ahh, what do you need help with?" Peter asked nicely.

"I 'on know 8+9." Aidan pouted. "Can you come and help me? You can come in! Mommy won't mind because she said I can ask for help."

"Oh, um, okay." Peter said. Even though he knew that the kid's mommy most likely meant a different kind of help. He watched as the kid carefully got back inside and motioned for him to come in too. Not wanting to disappoint, Peter climbed in through the window as Aidan giggled and clapped his hands.

"'Pide-man's in my room!" Aidan giggled and walked to his tiny desk. Peter knelt down next to him and saw the activity where Aidan was stuck on. Aidan pointed at the top left corner and said, "Aidan is m' name. See? It's right there!"

Peter nodded, "Yes, I can see that." Peter was sort of distracted with Aidan's answers, though. The kid wasn't dumb. He was just sort of slow on numbers. He got some of the answers wrong. Like, 5+5. Peter hummed to himself and immediately thought that he should correct everything. There's no way he would let Aidan go to school the next day with wrong answers.

"Aidan, buddy, what's 5+5?" Peter asked and pointed on the first problem. Aidan gave him a cute smile.

"That's easy! It's 2!" Aidan clapped. Peter shook his head, "Nope. Think again, pal."

Aidan pouted, "But it's 2."

"Why?" Peter asked. He was curious as to how Aidan got that answer.

Aidan held up one hand and said, "See? 'Tis 5."

"Okay, and then?"

Aidan held up his other hand and said, "It's another 5! I have two 5's now. 5+5 is 2!"

'Technically, he's not wrong.' Peter thought. 'In a scientific context, that's correct. He has two hands. But this is math.'

"How many fingers do you have?" Peter asked.

"I 'on know." Aidan shrugged and rested his head on the desk, clearly getting bored now. "I'm only 5." Aidan looked at the colored markers on his desk and decided in his mind that he'll draw a picture for his mommy later when Spider-Man leaves.

Peter thought of a strategy. He looked at the colored markers Aidan was looking at. There was about a hundred of them. "Is it alright if I borrow these?" Peter asked nicely. Aidan nodded, not having the energy to say proper response.

Peter randomly took 10 colored markers and laid 5 of them neatly on the desk. Aidan sat up properly once he saw his favorite color. In a way, it gave him motivation.

"How many colored markers do you see on the table?" Peter asked sweetly as he watched Aidan counted them one by one.

"1...2...3...4...5! I see 5!" Aidan grinned. Peter nodded, "That's right! I'll add 5 more."

Peter laid down 5 more markers and asked, "Now, how many markers are there?"

"1...2...3...4...5...6...7...8...9...10! I see 10!" Aidan smiled sweetly.

"Yeah! So, what's 5+5?" Peter asked again.

"Hm... 'm not sure." Aidan frowned. "Can I try?"

"Yes, you can."

"Is it 10?"

"Very good!" Peter clapped and Aidan laughed. Peter erased Aidan's wrong answer and Aidan took his pencil and wrote '10' as the correct answer.

The next few minutes were consisted of counting and colored markers. But the homework also had a 5-item question on subtractions. Of course, Aidan just kept answering because he thought it was still addition.

"Hold up, Aidan." Peter chuckled and erased Aidan's answer on the first question to subtraction.

"Why erase it?" Aidan whined. "5-2 is 7!"

Peter shook his head, "Nope. We're on subtractions now, buddy. The sign is already different. In addition, we use a cross; a small letter 't'. In subtraction, we use a little line."

"What?" Aidan blinked. "I 'on get it."

"Well," Peter started and laid down 5 colored markers. "Instead of adding 2 colored markers like in addition, we remove it."

Aidan watched carefully as Peter removed 2 colored markers. "I took 2 colored markers away, right? How many markers are left?" Peter asked.

"2!" Aidan said proudly.

"Why is it 2?" Peter asked.

"Because you said you took 2 markers." Aidan shrugged casually.

'Huh, smart-ass.' Peter thought.

"Okay, let me rephrase that." Peter said as he put back the two markers he took. "There are 5 markers, right?"

"Right!"

"How many markers are left when 2 markers are gone?" Peter asked and swiftly took 2 markers away. Aidan held his head on one hand while his other hand counted the remaining markers.

"1...2...3!"

"Okay, so what's 5-2?"

"3!" Aidan cheered and wrote down the correct answer.

"That's right!" Peter grinned and continued on teaching him.

Meanwhile, your Zoom meeting ended and heard two voices coming from your son's room and immediately panicked. You grabbed the nearest 'weapon' near you, which was a flower vase, and tiptoed to your son's room.

You pressed your ear against the door and furrowed your eyebrows when you heard giggling. You opened the door with confusion written all over your face and your eyes widened at the sight of Peter helping your son with his homework.

"I asked help from 'pide-man." Aidan said coolly. "He's teaching me math."

You and Peter stared at each other. It's been a while since you saw him. Aidan was busy writing the answer to the last question to even pay attention to the both of you.

"Aidan, is it okay if I talk to Pe- I mean, Spider-Man for a bit?" You asked sweetly. "I'll check your homework later."

"Okay mommy!" Aidan smiled and grabbed a piece of paper and began drawing something for Spider-Man as a 'thank you' present.

You and Peter walked out of Aidan's room and went to the living room. Peter took off his mask and said, "I didn't know you were his mom."

"Yeah, that's fine." You said.

You dated Peter back in high school, but he broke up with you in college because he claimed that he was in love with someone else. That 'someone else' was Gwen Stacy aka the girl who has been flirting with Peter all year long.

"So... Aidan, huh?" Peter said after an awkward silence. "I assume you had him when you were 20?"

"You assume correctly." You said and placed the flower vase back on the coffee table.

"I-Is he mine?" Peter asked. "It all lines up and-"

"No."

"What?"

"You're not his dad." You said.

"What do you mean?" Peter asked. He was... well, he didn't know what to feel. At first, Aidan was just another kid but for some reason he's grown to be fond of him. Then, he saw you and then he felt as if he was connected to you and Aidan. Now, you told him that Aidan wasn't his and he felt sad? Disappointed? Relieved? He wasn't sure.

"You know what I mean. Aidan isn't yours and I know that because I made a drunk decision a week after our break up and then 9 months later, Aidan was born. That's why I 'dropped out'. I took online classes instead and after a year and a half of taking online classes, I switched to a different university and physically attended online classes there. Of course, my parents disowned me and I had to do everything by myself. It was hard, but I pushed through." You explained.

"Oh." Peter said as he sat down on the couch. You sat next to him and asked, "How's Gwen?"

"We broke up after a year of dating." Peter said. "She wasn't who I thought she was. She used to be this really nice girl and then somewhere along the way, she changed. Hung out with the wrong crowd and then she cheated."

"Oh, I'm so sorry." You frowned.

"That's alright. I moved on." Peter shrugged.

"Good for you." You smiled at him softly which he returned. "I, uh, I have to start making snacks for Aidan now. You're welcome to stay if you want."

"Oh, no thanks. I have to get going." Peter said and both of you stood up from the couch. "It was nice seeing you, Y/N."

"It was nice seeing you too, Peter. Thanks for helping Aidan with his homework. I really appreciate it."

"No problem. I'm glad that I helped." Peter smiled. "Is it okay if I get your number? I'd really like to get in touch again."

You looked at him and nodded, "Sure."

He happily handed you his phone and watched you type in your number. You gave it back to him and he thanked you. He walked back to Aidan's room with his hand on the door knob before turning to you, "Hey Y/N?"

"Yeah?" You looked at him.

"I'm sorry for breaking up with you and I'm sorry that no one was there for you when you had Aidan."

"It's not your fault, Peter." You gave him a small smile.

"Yeah, but I could've checked up on you the moment you fell off the grid. It was the least I could do. After all, we were once friends and a decent friend would do that." Peter said guiltily.

"It's all in the past now." You assured.

"I'd like to make it up to you." Peter said and just as you were about to open your mouth to say something, Aidan's door opened and a smiling Aidan appeared. He looked at Peter and smiled, "Wow, you look handsome, 'pide-man!"

"Thank you." Peter chuckled. Aidan handed him a drawing and said it was a 'thank you' gift. It was a drawing of him and Peter with numbers surrounding them. "I have to get going." Peter said.

"Say goodbye to Spider-Man, Aidan." You said.

"Bye!" Aidan said and went straight to the living room to watch cartoons.

Peter looked at you once more and said, "I mean it. I want to make it up to you."

"Well, you have my number. Text me." You smiled politely. "Have a safe swing, Peter."

He only smiled and put on his mask before going in Aidan's room and leaving through the window. You followed after him and looked out the window to watch him swing around.

Peter was your first love and both of you drifted away only to see each other again years later. Perhaps it was fate. Maybe both of you were meant to be. After all, sometimes, first loves are last loves.

* * * *

𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @blueleatherbag @harryismysunflower @buckys-little-hoe @justanothermarvelmaniac @itstaskeen @heeeyitskay @slytherin-chaser @quaksonhehe @yaya4302 @lil-mellow-bunbun @starlight-starks @swiftmind @alexx-stancati @sovereignparker @nerdyandproudofitsstuff @pearce14 @xfirstfemale-marauderx @cherthegoddess @chewymoustachio @cocoamoonmalfoy

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @marvelousell @justasmisunderstoodasloki @rubberducky-jrr @petersholland @osterfieldnholland @miraclesoflove @god-knows-what-am-i-doing @perspectiveparker @hollands-weasley @itstaskeen @call-me-baby-gir1 @the-panwitch @iamaunicorn4704 @chloecreatesfictions @holland-styles @halfblood-princess-505 @spidey-reids-2003 @whatthefuckimbisexual @justanothermarvelmaniac @unsaidholland @musicalkeys @lost-in-the-stars03 @hufflepuffprincess24 @hollanddolanfangirl @parkerpeter24

[tinythiefalex]

Playdate

My first posted g/t story! This follows Human Patton and his Borrower son Virgil having a play date with Human Janus’ twin sons Roman and Remus (who are also human)

@arc852

(For context: in this universe borrowers are known and seen as equals)

Words: about 1350

Tw: none I think. Let me know if you find any.

Anyway, on with the story!

————————————————-

Oh no.

Oh no oh no oh no oh no-

Virgils thoughts raced as Patton continued to explain his and his friend Janus’ conversation from earlier that day.

Virgil got the gist of it; Janus wanted to bring over his twin sons, Roman and Remus, for a play date with Virgil. Nothing out of the ordinary, but there was one problem.

Virgil was a borrower.

It wasn’t uncommon to hear about Borrowers and humans living together as roommates, but a human like Patton adopting a borrower child? Completely unheard of. There were just too many problems to name, but Patton was determined to overcome any obstacle for his little son, even if current obstacle was something as simple as a play date.

Don’t get them wrong, the twins weren’t bad kids, but both Virgil and Patton had seen the way they play with other humans.

Loud. Rough. Hard-hitting games of tag and wrestling each other to the ground.

Sure, when playing with other humans this was alright, but Virgil was just too small for that. Too easily hurt.

Patton had tried to explain this to Janus, but he didn’t seem worried, so, eventually, Patton said yes.

“And you said yes?!” Virgil exclaimed, worried.

“Janus said it would be ok, kiddo. And I trust him. Let’s try it out, just this once?”

“B-but…��� Virgil trailed off. His head filled with images of how wrong this could go, no matter what Janus claimed about his boys.

“Kiddo…” Patton persisted,”I’m just as worried as you are, believe me, but the twins have been wanting to meet you for so long. We can’t deny them a chance just because of what they are.”

Virgil was quiet for a moment, thinking.

“O...okay. I’ll give them a chance”

A grin spread across Pattons face.

“Wonderful! I’ll call Janus and let him know.”

*time skip cuz I can’t write transitions*

Patton and Virgil were passing the time watching tv when a knock came from the door.

“That must be them!” Patton got up and heading towards the door, leaving Virgil to stew in his worries on the coffee table.

Barely a minute later, Patton and Janus walked into the living room, followed closely by the twins. Both Roman and Remus were carrying huge (to Virgil) duffle bags, presumably filled with toys.

As soon as they spotted Virgil, the 2 kids rushed over and knelt down to greet him.

“Hello Virgil! Nice to meet you!” Roman said with a huge smile.

Virgil stumbled back a few steps when they approached, startled.

Patton, who was sitting on the couch next to Janus, gently placed his hand on the table next to Virgil, trying to reassure him.

“It’s ok Virge, say hi.”

“H..Hi….” the borrower said nervously.

Remus leaned in slightly, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “Do you wanna play?” He asked, careful to keep his volume down for the benefit of tiny ears.

“S-sure. Play what?”

Roman but in, “we could play a board game, or draw, or...uh…whatever you want!”

“Oh umm…” Virgil thought for a moment, trying to come up with a game that hopefully won’t be too much.

“How about….pretend?” Virgil responded, pleasantly surprised they were asking him what to do.

The twins smiled.

“Ooooo yeah! We could...we could play fairytales!” Roman said excitedly. “I could be the knight!” He puffed out his chest.

“And I could be the monster! Grrrr.” Remus growled.

Virgil chuckled, feeling slightly more comfortable around the bigger kids.

“And you could be the Prince, Virgil!” Roman said, suddenly reaching his hand towards the borrower.

Both Patton and Virgil flinched at this, Virgil quickly hiding behind Patton’s hand, his fears returning.

The twins softened at this, disheartened.

“Oh no… I didn’t mean to. It’s ok, Virgil” Roman said gently. Virgil took another look at his hand. It hand had stopped a couple of inches away from where Virgil had been sitting, palm facing up in a clear offering.

“It’s ok.” Roman repeated. “I won’t grab you, I promise. C’mon, don’t you want to start the game?”

Virgil gave Patton a brief glance, before hesitantly stepping towards the hand, climbing on.

Roman smiled softly.

“There you go.” He carefully lifted his hand and carried Virgil to the tv stand, setting him down.

Remus stood up.

Ok! Let’s get started!” He exclaimed, dumping out his and Romans bags. They were filled with costumes, dolls, and more toys than Virgil could name. Roman searched through the pile and found a foam sword, holding it at the ready. Remus found a dragon hood and put it on, growling again, before stopping.

“Wait hold on!” He said, searching through the pile again. He pulled out a little king doll, taking the crown off, and handing it to Virgil, “Here you go Virge!”

Virgil placed the crown on his head. The doll was a fair bit bigger than he was, so he had to hold it up to keep it from falling. Remus gave him a huge, toothy grin, and Virgil gave a more hesitant one back.

Finally ready, the twins leapt into action, hitting each other with their toy weapons.

It should have been frightening, but the twins were surprisingly quiet, doing their best to not startle Virgil with their playing.

Roman landed a final hit on Remus, and the darker twin let out a dramatic “Oh No! I’ve been bested!” falling to the ground in “defeat”.

Roman laughed victoriously, striking a hero pose before going over to Virgil. He hovered his hand near him in a silent question. After a moment, Virgil nodded and Roman scooped him up, exclaiming, “Yes! I have rescued you fair prince! Now we will live happily ever after!” Patton and Janus softly cheered. Remus got up.

“Let’s do that again! But this time, I get to win!” He said.

“No, the monster can’t win! How will we get a happy ending then? How will I save Virgil?”

“It’ll be more interesting, and Virgil will just be stuck with the dragon forever!”

“I’ll come back and beat you then!”

“You can���t just ‘come back’ that’s cheating!”

The twins argued back and forth as Virgil thought.

They kept arguing until they heard a quiet, “Well….”

They turned to Virgil, the borrower having gotten their attention. Virgil nervously continued.

“How about… well… um… I was wondering….could I maybe...be the knight?”

The twins were quiet for a moment, before their eyes lit up wide.

“Of course you can!” “Oh yes! That would be fun!” Roman and Remus answered, Roman quickly but carefully setting Virgil on the ground before going through their pile again.

“It should be right….aha!” He exclaimed, pulling out a tiny, plastic sword from another doll. He handed it to Virgil.

“There! Every knight must have a great weapon!”

Virgil laughed, turning to point the sword at Remus.

“Have at thee beast! I will save Prince Roman!” he shouted. Remus got right into character.

“Not if I have anything to say about it. ROAR!” He pretended to blast fire at Virgil, who quickly dove out of the way of the imaginary attack.

“Not so quick beast!” He ran towards Remus’ knee, hitting it with the sword.

“Ah no!” Remus cried. He pinched the back of Virgil's jacket, lifting him up and placing him about a foot away again.

Patton flinched when this happened, about to say something when Janus placed a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head and gesturing to Virgil, who was still laughing and dodging pretend fireballs.

Patton sighed, sitting back, still worried.

Eventually, Virgil landed one last hit on Remus’ hand, causing him to shout in imaginary pain.

“Nooo! I can’t believe you defeated me! There’s no way! The prince is yours!” He said, sinking down before playing dead.

A big smile spread across Virgil's face as he turned to Roman, who cheered.

“You saved me, great knight! Three Cheers for Sir Vee the Brave!”

Janus clapped his hands and cheered along with the boys, and Patton grinned as they quickly set up the game again.

Maybe this playdate wouldn’t be so bad after all.

And there you have it! This is my very first writing so please let me know if there’s anything I could’ve done better. Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. Thank you and I hoped you enjoyed reading!

[the-coffee-story]

Rise of the Forest God

Chapter 17 - Professor Tally Winchester

Winchester Hall was a beautiful, dark Victorian mansion á lá Addams Family that rested proudly upon the tallest hill around. The windows, grey with age and dust were tall and skinny and a rusted iron gate, with weathered carvings now indistinguishable rested half swallowed by dirt and uncut blades of long dry grass. The whole thing blended rather well with the crawling forest behind it.

The team was waiting by the gate, curious and giddy with half-numbed nervousness.

"Well, now I'm definitely interested," Walther commented, peeking through the towering, rusted gate. "This looks like it's haunted by at least three ghosts who died a horrible death. They never found the heads."

October laughed.

"Seriously October, imagine the Addams Family's mansion, now scale it down a little."

He raised an eyebrow. "Can't wait for Morticia to pop out."

"Well, Morticia was definitely not on the phone," Violet noted.

Suddenly, the carved, dark-oak door that rested comfortably in the centre of the home's front opened, and a young man peeked out, adjusting his glasses as he took a moment to assess the situation. After a few moments passed, he noticed the team waiting by the gate, waved to wordlessly grab their attention, and quickly scuttled over.

Tally Winchester was a medium-heighted, slender and bald individual with large, wildly blue eyes behind thick glasses and a countless amount of scattered silver piercings dotted in and around his earlobe. Despite the fact that it was it had just dawned early spring, his skin was sunburnt and tanned, as if he spent most of his days somewhere lost outside. He walked with a noticable limp, and Walther didn't need to wait long for an explanation, when a prosthetic briefly appeared between his worn brown converse sneakers and faded jeans.

"Hi!" He flashed a toothy smiled at the group and opened the gate. "Great to see you, I'm Professor Tally Winchester!" He shook everyone's hands as they trickled past. The sleeves of his petrol flannel were rolled up, revealing a rather out-of-place, faded tattoo of a crawling lizard and a bunch of old scars. "You can call me Tally though."

Violet held out her hand. "Hi, I'm Violet, we talked on the phone."

"Great to meet you all!" He grinned. "Are you coming inside?"

***

"Before anyone asks, I inherited the house," Tally explained while leading them upstairs. "It's rotten and I hate it and the bills are a naked horror but I doubt I can find anything that has more capacities for a library." He opened a door. "Intrate, everyone."

"Remarkable," Doc commented.

Remarkable was indeed an understatemt. The room they'd entered was a library- with a beautiful brick fireplace and huge windows that let in the sparse afternoon sun, bookshelves brushed against the webbed ceiling and sunk into every wall. The floor was carpeted, through incredibly uncomfortable to walk on, and the furniture antique. One wall was plastered with photographs and notes.

"Nice," Walther mumbled, taking the second to once again soak in their surroundings.

Tally grinned, idly brushing aside pages and old notes compromised of incomprehensible scribbles and drawings. His teeth were somewhat crooked. "I didn't replace any of the furniture, but I did sell a chunk of the old books. There was just no space for mine." He closed the door behind them. "So anyway, you wanted to know about the cult?"

"There's been a bunch of murders in Forest Lane that were eerily similar to what it did, so yeah." Thasfield shrugged his broad shoulders. "We suspect the cult might be involved."

"Oh, I heard about that on the news!" Tally sorted the files on the table until he found what he was looking for. Then he looked up. His face was serious now. "At this point I'd like to admit I have a slightly selfish motivation in this."

"What is it?", Violet asked.

"You see..." Tally leaned against the table. "For context, I'm a history professor, but my focus is on cryptids and modern legends. Historical context, potential explanations, yada yada. A few years ago I stumbled across the legend of the Forest God."

Walther's face lit up. "Oh, I remember that story, my parents used to tell it to me when I was a kid! This one guy got lost in the woods, was found dead and after his funeral his reanimated corpse came home and his wife who loved him very, very much-" They side-eyed Violet and Coffee, who in turn glared back. "-couldn't accept that maybe it's not exactly normal that your husband's corpse is vibing around, then after a while he started killing people, then he killed her and then the neighbours buried him in an iron casket in the woods so he would stop randomly murdering people. Right?"

"You summed it up." Tally nodded.

"But who believes in that?!" Violet frowned. "I mean... it's just a legend, right? Somebody finally snapped, had a rough week or something, and people straight up believe his bullshit?"

"He came back from the dead and started murdering people, Violet," Doc commented.

She shrugged dismissively. "We've all been there."

"I don't want to meet you after a bad week," Tally remarked with mild discomfort, absentmindedly flipping through pages of notes and nonsense. "The existence of the man who allegedly became the Forest God is proven. His name was Eustace Wyndham and if you ask me he had rabies and some things were added for drama. But that's not even relevant, because the cult came almost a hundred years later." He slid around the table and opened another scattered file. "1969 they started to worship the Forest God. At first it was nothing special, you know, just the average college student nonsense." He held up an old photograph, subtle wonder in his eyes as he stared into it, before handing it to Walther. "Here, you can take a look at this! That's the entire cult. The guy in purple with the long hair is one of the founders. The other founder left in 1970 after getting a bad feeling about the whole thing. I caught him for an interview five years ago. Lovely guy, sadly died of cancer shortly after. It's a shame. You can pass the photo around! Notice how they're all wearing cow parsley wreaths. That was the flower associated with the Forest God and the flower scattered all over their murder victim's body, or rather what was left of it."

"All the victims had cow parsley in their mouth," Doc realized, dragging a hand up to rest in his soft ginger curls, staring blankly into the distance, thinking.

Tally nodded hastily. "Exactly! And now please look at what I found on my windowsill this morning!"

He limped over to the tallboy, half relying on the nearby furniture for support. Leaning down and throwing open a drawer, after a short while of sifting through papers and photographs, he took out something else. Then he held it up.

It was a wreath of cow parsley.

"That's....not good," Walther murmured after a long moment of stunned silence.

Tally nodded, twirling the flowers between his thumb and forefinger. "You get it. You know..." He leaned heavily against a dusty, worn table and heaved a small sigh. "When Wilhelm called me at first I was very sceptical of it all. I'm not a group project person, if you know what I mean. But this is just the tip of the ice berg and I have a feeling that I might be next, so I decided to work with you." He shrugged his shoulders.

While he'd been talking, Coffee had been furiously typing. He handed Tally his phone and Tally read it out loud.

" 'How about we use you as a bait?' Um... Can you...can you please explain what exactly you mean? That doesn't sound particularly safe-!"

He handed Coffee's phone back to him, paranoid he might accidentally drop it, and the detective started typing an answer, this time with significantly more determination.

Hear me out. So my idea was basically that tonight we let the killer come, but were going to be prepared. In other words, we gather a big group that's going to protect you, and we're going to arrest the murderer once he's here. What do you think?

Tally hesitated for a short moment and chewed his lip, opening his mouth to reply, then closing it again.. "I mean... I guess you have a point, sooner or later he's going to get me either way."

"I mean, let's be real, you can't run forever," Thasfield said, leaning forwards. "Even if you move, it's still going to take a while, and judging by what we know you're being pretty actively stalked, so it's quite possible he'll just follow you and then you'll be killed by a Forest God in a hotel room in Central Graytown. Which probably makes for an interesting plotline in a noir film, but we're talking real life here and I highly doubt you're so keen on landing in the morgue anytime soon. Although the Doctor is an expert at autopsies."

Doc smirked.

".........yeah," Tally admitted. He sat down on the table and scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, that sounds...icky but realistic." He closed his eyes took a deep breath. "Alright. Who's gonna be on this team?"

Doc's phone's rang loudly to shake up their newfound confidence, and he excused himself, stepping back into the dusty hallway to take the call.

"I mean, most of us for starters," Violet said. "But I was also thinking of grabbing Gary Fox and Wilhelm. Strength in number, you know?"

Doc eventually came back to the group. His weathered face was stricken with subtle anxiety. "Bad news."

"What is it?", Walther asked.

"Alice found her mailman by the stables."

Walther frowned. "Okay, and what's so special about that?"

"His left arm was by the stables. The rest of him was scattered across the field."

"Dear God, is he okay?"

"He's okay, but he's dead." Doc turned to Tally, lowering his voice just enough. "Can we settle on tonight?"

Tally nodded. His sunburnt face had notably paled, turning his skin a somewhat pasty yellow. "Sure. What time are y'all coming?"

"Is five o'clock alright with you?"

Tally shrugged his shoulders. "Sure."

[annaraebananawriter]

Hands

First off...HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE SQUID!!! 

I honestly had no idea it was his birthday until last night from twitter. I was in the middle of writing this scene, in fact, and realized ‘Hey, you know what? I could probably get this done in time for it!’. Now here we are.

Secondly...This is a scene from one of my WIP’s. It will probably take place somewhere in the middle chapters, but I saw that it was a fairly out of context scene to show that it wouldn’t really matter if I showed it now as a teaser or later. 

Obviously, I chose the latter.

That said, this is set to change a bit as the WIP develops, but it’ll be nice to see what you all think of it. Hope you enjoy!

Fandom: Undertale, but specifically UTMV

Pairings: Implied Errorink, or Pre-Errorink

Characters: Error (Who belongs to CQ) and Ink (Who belongs to Comyet)

Warnings: Nothing really. Although, again, it is a scene from a wip, which means that it is not in it’s final form. Let me know!

Word Count: 2488

~oOo~

His phone buzzed on the floor beside him. Ink paused in the middle of trying to balance a pencil on his finger, which was probably a losing battle, but since when has that ever stopped him before? That’s right, never. And it never would. Setting the pencil aside, he checked his phone and read the short message.

mommy-bear

Are you coming home for supper? It’s past 5.

Ink jumped, looking outside to see that, indeed, the sun was lower in the sky and time had in fact passed. They must’ve gotten lost in the throughs of their homework, or the casual avoidance of it, for one of them. Error seems to have made some sort of headway into the work from Mx. Alex. Good for him. He’ll be able to hand it in on Monday without it bugging him in the back of his mind while he ignores that bugging and just doddles instead of doing his work like he should until the next thing he knows it’s almost midnight on Sunday and he still hasn’t gotten it done.

But honestly, who would do that? Certainty not Ink.

Error had also noticed his jump and was looking at him now. “What is it?”

“Just a text from my mom.” He answered, gathering up his things. A glance to his study buddy showed Error blinking and setting down his pencil as well in order to listen. “She was just wondering where I was. It’s after five, y’know? I said I’d be back then.”

“Oh.” Error fell silent after that.

Once his things were all accounted for (he did lose his eraser for a minute there and partially freaked out about it, which was kind of silly as he had plenty more than just this one white one, others that were far more colourful, but he didn’t have to worry for long—Error had silently placed it on the bed for him to grab, making Ink smile in gratitude), Ink walked to the bedroom door and got to the top of the stairs before he realized another pair of footsteps were following him.

Man, Error really needed to take him up on the suggestion of bells. He was too silent on his feet, just too much like a ghost for his liking. Not that he didn’t like ghosts. He just didn’t like people being silent when their walking. It made him paranoid.

Ink turned around. “You know I can just walk myself back, right? I literally live right next door.” He held up one finger. “That’s the house right beside yours.”

Error scowled, just like he always did when Ink pointed things out like that. It was also a reason why he was determined to point things like that out as often as he did, which was rather often. “Don’t be stupid. Of course I know that.”

“Then why are you following me?”

“What if I wasn’t? What if I just decided to get some food? To do that, I’d need to go to the kitchen, which is also downstairs.” He gestured to the passageway to said downstairs. “Those are the only stairs to get there.”

Ink smirked, “You have a box on the top shelf of your closet where you keep all the chocolate you bought, stole, or stole from Fell.” This statement was rewarded with a light blush of embarrassment from Error, who looked around as if to make sure his brothers didn’t overhear.

Ink was sure that they already knew though.

He also suspected that they put chocolate in the box too, as Error was sometimes surprised that there was some there when he had said he had eaten it all.

“I didn’t even say I was getting chocolate! I might be getting something else.”

“You don’t snack on anything but chocolate.” Error’s scowl deepened. “You also sort of admitted to following me” He couldn’t help but laugh when the blush on Error’s skull deepened in realization and his taller friend looked away from him. It was always interesting to see just how much it took to get to this shade of blue, with the yellow freckle-like dots just barely seen overtop. The sight made Ink want to draw it.

He wanted to draw it so badly.

Laughter dying down, Ink tilted his head and smiled at Error. “If you wanted to walk with me, you could’ve just asked.”

For some reason, Error glanced back at him and quickly looked away again, blush deepening again, the yellow becoming brighter. He also started to glitch a little bit, which would normally spark a tiny bit of worry, but he could see that the other wasn’t in any danger, so he had no reason to worry. If the glitches got worse, then he could worry.

That was…pretty much the saying for being friends with him.

‘If the glitches got worse, then you could worry.’

Error burrowed down, like he usually would if he had his scarf on. It was, presumably, back in his room. Weird. The glitch he knew never went anywhere without his scarf; at school, at home, at the café, at the park, walking, sitting, it was always on. Well, it probably came off at home. Here he was with his family, a safe, happy environment away from the judging eyes of school and the city. He could be himself here. That’s an assumption, at least, hopefully the right one. Ink didn’t know the relationship between skeleton and scarf and never asked, never would talk about it until, or if, Error brought it up. He wanted to respect his privacy, after all.

But now that he thought about it, the scarf had been coming off around him lately. It had started off small. It started with it being up to his mouth, almost as if a way to hide or be smaller than he was. That was how it was for a while. Then one morning, it was down just a bit, just under his mouth. And as the days passed and the two talked more and became friends, the scarf would be lower and lower. Down to the chin in Math. Under the chin the next day. Around his neck a week later in English class.

It was almost like earning his trust. He had earned Error’s trust, which meant that he got to see the skeleton behind the scarf. The true, unshielded one.

It was…kind of nice, to be honest.

Ink blinked, coming back to himself and realizing that Error had mumbled something.

“Sorry, what?”

Error looked back at him and sighed a little before speaking up just enough so that Ink could hear. “I said, can I…walk with you?” His arms went in front of him. Ink guessed that it was a temporary shield in place of the scarf.

He was prepared to be rejected and just walk back to his room.

Well, Ink couldn’t have that, now could he?

“Of course!” The smile on his face widened and he started down the stairs with lighter steps. It was always nice when friends offered to walk you home or something of the sort. The walk was less lonely, even if you never spoke a word.

It’s just how it was.

They talked in the small time it took to get from Error’s house to Ink’s. Well, that wasn’t really true. Ink did most of the talking, which ended up being mostly complaints about homework and school and also talk about his works in progresses. Error just listened quietly, humming or nodding in certain spots. He would like to think that Ink could talk about nothing at all and Error would listen. It just seemed to be the way he was.

Their friendship was a good one. Maybe there were a few unbalances here and there, but overall, it was good and healthy and, most importantly, mutual. It benefited both of them in different ways. Ink had someone who would listen without interrupting, who cared about his interest and how he felt, even though he didn’t have a soul and relied on substitutes. Error had someone who didn’t pressure him into a conversation, who gave him and respected his personal space and asked before touching his things and body. It was like a missing piece just fell into place, so perfect, it felt like it hadn’t been missing at all.

That said, there were some hurdles.

Like how Ink was soulless. There was always that thought, loud or quiet, one that questioned whether the love he felt towards his friends and family was real. Or if he was just deluding himself and everyone around him into thinking that they were. This thought had always been there, since before Dream and Blue, before Error, before anyone he was with now—what if it was all fake?

It was kind of silly. The substitutes he took acted as a soul. It supplied him his soul magic, the working parts of his body and the emotion spectrum. He may not feel things as intensely as others and may be lacking a feeling in a certain way, but that didn’t mean they weren’t real. They’re substitutes for a reason, after all.

…Ah! They’ve arrived at his house.

Ink blinked, stopping on the first step and turning back to Error. “So…” he said, finding himself unable to think of what else to say. He shifted awkwardly and cleared his throat. “I’ll see you next Friday?” He tried to think back on what else was going on in school. “We have some sort of project to do or test to study for, right?”

Error nodded. “Yeah, I think so.” He fell silent too, but didn’t leave like Ink had expected. He lingered, clearly thinking about something with the way his arms slightly glitched around. He didn’t say anything, though.

“Anything else?” Ink asked, trying to prompt him.

The blush, which had died down as they walked over here, brightened again. “Um…yeah, actually.” Error straightened and fiddled with his sleeve. “Do you remember the lesson we had…I think it was a month ago? In Health?”

Ink rocked on his heels as he thought. It was times like these that he cursed his memory. A month ago…a month ago…he didn’t really remember a lot of the lessons from a month ago. But the ones that he did… “Do you mean the one about the different types of intimacy? I only recall that it was about intimacy, nothing specific.”

“Yeah…yeah, that’s the one.”

“Okay…why is it important?” Curious. Error rarely asked him if he could remember a lesson from as long as a month ago. He knew how bad Ink’s memory was, so why did he ask? And why now, of all times?

“I, uh…w-well…” Error stuttered. Error didn’t normally stutter. It was only when he glitched really badly and was on the verge of crashing that he stuttered, or lagged, as he liked to call it. Normally, though, he spoke fine, if quiet and almost echoey.

Speaking of glitches…the ones on his arms had quickened up a little. Not enough to be too worrying yet, but definitely something to watch over.

Frowning, Ink was just about to bring that to attention when Error spoke again, voice clearer. “Just…can you…raise your hand?” He slowly brought up a hand with the inside facing Ink, like he was to high-five someone. “Like this?”

Ink eyed him suspiciously.

One of the first things he had learned about Error was that the other had haphephobia. He couldn’t stand people touching him, as it usually caused a flurry of glitches in the touched spot, and sometimes it was so bad that the minute someone touched him, he crashed. Those days were few, but they have happened. Ink had been lucky that it hasn’t happened since meeting Error. But this fact he had taken in and committed to memory, determined to not trigger his friend like that.

He would hate himself, if he did.

But now Error was asking him to raise his hand? For what? He couldn’t see them high-fiving. It would be too painful for Error and frankly a bit of a reach for Ink (he hated being short like that). And because it would be painful, he couldn’t see why he had to raise his hand.

But he was curious.

Curiosity usually made his answers for him.

Just as slowly as Error did, Ink raised his hand, mirroring the one in front of him.

Error inhaled and…

Ink’s mind froze.

He could barely focus on Error stepping closer as excitement and happiness began to take over. The urge to squeal was overwhelming, but he reigned himself in as he knew that wouldn’t help Error at all. It would probably just make him run away and never come near Ink again. And he didn’t want that. So, he forced himself to stay still and stay quiet, eyes focused on the hand that started to come closer and closer to his.

He could see the black bones begin to glitch a ton and felt a spark of worry—despite what might just happen, he didn’t want Error to hurt himself. He would never want him to—he should speak up now. He should tell Error to stop and calm down.

They didn’t have to do it like this.

They didn’t even have to touch at all!

They didn’t…have to…

It was…warm.

Fuzzy.

The hands contrasted starkly and they would be stunning in a painting. The white of Inks and the black of Errors. They were different, but they looked so well together.

This…This had to be a dream.

But it wasn’t. There was a light touch to his bones, just enough to know that the hand against his was, in fact, against his and trembling ever so slightly and actually existed in the world and not just his imagination. Somehow, this made it even more surreal. He knew it was real…but he just couldn’t believe it.

If this was a dream, he didn’t want to wake up.

Despite his promise to stay still, Ink shakily inhaled.

And just like that, the spell was broken.

Error retracted his hand and walked away quickly. Ink was slow to realize what was happening and so by the time his hand was up and the name of his tongue, his friend was already gone. He stood there with his arm outstretched, gazing at the house next door blankly.

He slowly looked down at his hand.

It still tingled.

Gently wrapping his other hand around it, not daring to actually touch, he brought the hands closer to his chest, right over where his soul would be.

It felt like something should be beating wildly in there.

It felt like some new emotion had been lodged in his substitutes.

And somehow, it felt like that contact, the light touch of hands, was far more intimate than a kiss had ever and would ever be.

[builder051]

The talk

Chasing Ghosts

(I generally do not play in this arena; DO NOT ask for other stories with PMS, etc., as illness features. I do loosely plan to continue this thread, though. Or @mohini-musing might pick up for me.)

Warnings: weight (though not ED context), SA inc. prostitution, blood, emeto

____________________________

Tasha comes down the hall and stands like a ghost behind the sofa.

James is in the recliner across the living room, and he barely looks up from the textbook he's pretending to peruse. The quiet music he's had playing in one ear has long since captured his attention more than the multiplication of matrices. He's fairly sure he'll never use the skill lest he become a software engineer post-graduation, and the prospect of that's looking pretty slim.

He sees Tasha out of his peripheral vision, but doesn't move his head or lift his eyes for acknowledgment. She's probably drifted down from her weekend high, realized it's Sunday night, and gotten up for a Gatorade and maybe a glance at her homework.

Steve, though, who's lying on his stomach and taking up the whole of the couch, practically jumps to attention. He stands, scoots, and sits again in the amount of time it takes James to blink and make the first inhalation of a laugh.

"Sorry," Steve says, as if he's personally offended Tasha and just been called out. "I didn't mean... I was just, like, studying..."

Tasha shrugs. "Didn't come to sit with you," she says, in a voice that recalls the 'boys are gross' tone of young teenagerhood.

"What's up, then?" James asks, trying to bring back the balance of the room's atmosphere.

Tasha makes an ugly face. She opens her mouth, then shuts it. "Can I talk to you alone?"

James scoffs. "You think there's privacy in this apartment?"

"I can go, I don't know--" Steve looks around.

"Just talk," James says. He almost rolls his eyes, but the undercurrent of Tasha's affect seems to hold an air of seriousness. If there's something she needs to confess or ask for help with, he doesn't want her to feel less than secure.

Tasha lets out a breathy sort of sigh. "Blood," she says. "There's blood."

"Huh?" Steve responds first. "Where?"

James takes a little longer to contemplate the admission. Has she cut herself? There's no visible damage; Tasha's not holding an injury or howling in pain. Bloody vomit? That's nothing new, really, and even with vampire-red teeth, which she doesn't have, Tasha probably wouldn't come crying to him.

James is still thinking when Tasha points vaguely down the hall and to the left, which is, technically speaking, her side of the apartment. Or at least the bedroom and bathroom they'd parceled out for her when they'd unofficially moved her out of her dreary campus housing.

"What, in your room?" Steve asks.

"No." Tasha screws up her eyes. "I mean... I'm bleeding."

The cogs continue to turn in James's head, and just as he lands on an answer, Steve gives up, shaking his head and saying, "I don't get it."

"Fuck you," Tasha mumbles. "Both of you." She turns and starts to head back down the hallway.

"Tash." James jumps to his feet, his algebra book falling to the floor.

"You guys are fucking gay..."

"Hey!" Steve interjects.

James flaps his hand at Steve to shut him up. "Maybe we're gay, but I'm your big brother." He shoots a quick glance at Steve, hoping this won't surpass his no privacy promise. They've done some pretty wild stuff together: partying, puking, cleaning the carpet... Period talk shouldn't be too far out of their wheelhouse. At least, not if Tasha wants to talk about it.

Tasha huffs and rounds the edge of the sofa. She stands beside the arm, leaning her hip against it for a moment, before finally deciding to sit down, as far away from Steve as possible.

"I..." James starts, assuming it's his responsibility to keep the conversation going. "I assumed you hadn't been, um. You know."

Tasha's 100 pounds soaking wet. In her usual cutoff shorts and tank tops, he'd give her 95. Maybe 92 if she's detoxing. James assumes she has something like female athlete triad going on, except without the athlete. He doesn't like to think she's just too skinny to go through... normal biological processes. If he blames the drugs, sees them as wrecking her body instead of bringing her solace, then he'll have to turn eyes on himself, and there's no way in hell he wants to do that.

"Smart one," Tasha says. "And exactly how much thought do you give to the functioning of my uterus?"

Steve gives an 'oh shit' face, looking from James to Tasha and back again as if wondering how he's been so thick headed. James agrees, but is also relieved, in a way, that his boyfriend hasn't been thinking about his sister in, well, that way.

"Seeing as I have, more than once, pulled you out of an R-rated situation with iffy consent, and you have yet to become pregnant--" James starts.

"Yeah, ok, you don't have to..." Tasha shakes her head.

James decides not to stop his momentum. "Do you know how much sex you're having? How often you're using protection?"

"I said, you don't have to." Tasha glares at him. "I don't have one. A cycle, or whatever. I can't get knocked up."

"Well, I figured that, but you can still get an STD--

"I don't think you're hearing me," Tasha says. "I don't have one. I haven't. Like, ever."

"But--what?" James squints and cocks his head. "What about, what was it? Cheerleading camp?"

"That stupid summer program when I was 16?" Tasha bites her lip. "Yeah, that was a lie."

"You're losing me." Steve reminds them he's part of the conversation as well.

"What, didn't your mom send you to cheerleading camp when you were a sullen teen?" Tasha asks him, seemingly in all seriousness.

"Um. No." Steve withers a little under her stare. "There was a threat to beat it out of me with a bible when I was that age, but that never came to fruition."

"Mm. Fun times." Tasha scrubs her hair back from her face. "I told mom of the moment I started at camp, so then she couldn't go nuts about the moment I 'became a woman,' or whatever."

Tasha has always seemed like a little kid to James. Her stint at camp had only taken place... he quickly calculates... 3ish years ago. Tasha is a kid. She hasn't busted 20 years old yet. But, for the first time James wonders if other, more metaphorical factors are at play.

The idea quickly fades, though, when he remembers the actual topic at hand. "Ok, but Tash," James says. "What's actually going on right now?"

Tasha practically sinks into the couch cushions. She wraps both arms around her abdomen. "Blood," she says. "Kinda...everywhere."

"We'll clean the bathroom later," James says dismissively.

"And I'll do laundry," Steve offers. "I used to be the scrawny kid who got beat up a lot. I can do bloodstains."

"Not helping, babe," James tells him before Tasha can get a word in.

"Feel sick," Tasha admits, rather suddenly.

"Bathroom it is, then," James decides. "But, let's use mine."

Tasha seems to have turned into a shapeless blob on the corner of the couch, her chest meeting her thighs with her arms still wrapped around her stomach. Her face is in her knees, which James has to admit, would be easier to clean than the carpet.

"Come on," he says gently, taking Tasha's shoulder. "If you're gonna puke, don't do it here, please."

"But I already diiiiid," Tasha complains, drawing out the last word and adding the hiccup of a fake crying fit.

"Sorry." James hooks his flesh arm across Tasha's chest and lets her cling to him down the hall. He takes her into his and Steve's disorganized yet bleach-shined bathroom. Cleaning was practically Steve's hobby. Yet keeping down the clutter? Not his strong suit.

Unsure of exactly what kind of sick his sister intends to be, he sets her down, fully clothed, on the toilet, which, of course, has the seat up. Then he dives for the trash can and shoves it into Tasha's chest.

She gives James an appreciative glare, then sets her chin on the edge of the trash can, ostensibly to wait for an upcoming retch. James can practically see it, rising from the bottom of her spine, up her back, to her neck and throat before finally pushing a pitiful amount of spit and bile out of her mouth.

"Ok..." James sighs. If she's down to just that, she's been at it a while. Lost a lot of fluids already.

"Gatorade?" Steve asks in a chipper tone, putting voice to what James is thinking without a trace of delicacy.

"Hmph." Tasha spits. "If it'll... make it stop burning..."

"Lemme guess, vodka last night?" James tries to make her laugh. Maybe cough.

"Fuck you."

"Eh, we'll talk about that later," James says, hoping he doesn't sound threatening. "For now, how about I go with you?" James pulls on Steve's arm and heads for the bathroom door.

"Hey, you said no privacy here..." Tasha's irritated and sickly voice trails after them.

"Yeah, well, puking people aren't allowed to leave the bathroom," James says. "That's the house rule that trumps all the others."

"But I puke on the couch all the time--"

"That's because it's too hard to get your fucking limp-ass octopus body into the bathroom in the first place." James rolls his eyes. "Just sit tight."

He quickly drags Steve into the kitchen. "Ok," he says. "You have to know about this stuff. You took health class in high school, right?"

"I've lived with a woman," Steve reminds James, a little shamefully. "But Peggy was super private. You know, like inhibited, about, like, um..."

"Yeah, I get it." James shrugs. Then, "Did you know you can stem a nosebleed with a tampon?"

"Why would I?"

"I don't know..." James shakes his head.

"Why do you?" Steve looks a little take aback now.

"The field. Desert air's pretty damn dry."

"Ah. Ok."

"We'd get donations of shit from the states. Care packages, Costco overstock, you know. Just, whatever. When we got pads and stuff, whoever was unloading the box would just hold them over their head and yell 'who needs them?'"

"And I'm assuming people would just raise their hands?" Steve postulates.

"Yup." James pops the P. "No privacy. Everyone knows everyone else's bathroom habits. When you're deep in the field, there's no men's and women's facilities. Half the time the privies don't even have doors."

"Ok." Steve nods. "Experience, then. You have lots of experience."

James shrugs again. "You have to be chill, ok?" He opens the fridge and pulls out two bottles of Gatorade. He holds one to either side of Steve's neck, as if to physically cool him. "This is, like, super weird and awkward for her. She's really scared, I think, and her brave face just looks...jerk-ish."

"Yeah." Steve takes the Gatorade. "I can be good with this. I really care about her, even if she doesn't think I do."

"I know you do," James says. "It's all in the presentation right now, though. She's skittish. But, also, for some reason, willing to talk. We have to tease it out. And you can't ruin it, ok?"

"Ok, ok." Steve seems to understand, even if he doesn't appreciate the words.

They head back to the bathroom, where Tasha has, for whatever reason, decided to heave into the toilet instead of the trash. She squats awkwardly, sitting on one heel. From the angle he's at, James can see a spreading stain on the back of Tasha's shorts, which has made an imprint on her ankle and the bottom of her foot.

"Don't move," James says, reaching for a towel.

"The fuck would I?" Tasha coughs, holding her stomach and moaning.

"Well, when you're done, stand up slowly and wipe your feet."

"...Shit..." Tasha spits. "Like I said. It's fucking everywhere."

"Yeah..." Menstrual blood, James has no experience with. But blood in general, yeah. It does get fucking everywhere. There's that first moment when the entire body and all its systems are still in shock, like when the arm is first blown off, and then all he can see is red. Even the bone that was white just a second ago is lost in a sea of scarlet--

"Well, I suppose congratulations are in order," Steve says with a grin, clearly trying to be friendly, but missing out on one, or more, of the points. "You're not pregnant."

"Well, of course I'm not, you dingbat," Tasha replies, rolling her eyes so hard that James is sure it must give her a headache. If she doesn't already have one. "And besides. He used a condom."

"Wait," James says. He's been preoccupied by not looking at Steve. "You know that?" he pokes cautiously. "For sure?"

"...Yeah..."

"Every time?"

"To be honest," Tasha starts, spitting and pushing herself away from the toilet. She crab-walks to the towel, wipes her feet, then sits on it, criss-cross like a little kid. "I don't know if he actually gets off every time." She draws her mouth into a straight, defensive line.

"The fuck does that have to do with anything?" James asks.

Steve looks very much like he wants to get the bleach from the cabinet under the sink, pour it into one ear, tip his head, and see if it comes out the other.

"He pulls out," Tasha says bluntly. "And there's never any, you know. Gunk."

"Wait, he does both?" Steve's eyebrows disappear into his hair. "A condom and--"

"Ok, ok." James puts up his hands to shush them both. "And this is, what, this is your dealer we're talking about?"

"Yeah, I guess, if you want to call him that," Tasha says with a shrug.

"What else would we call him?" Steve now looks disgusted. "That'd be stupid to let him just, like, defile you every week."

"He doesn't--" Tasha starts, but then she hiccups, and maybe thinks better of what she was going to say. She still stares Steve down, though, then looks to James as if grasping at straws of support.

"He's, like, a manufacturer?" Tasha turns her gaze sideways.

"Oh, for fuck's sake." James puts his hand over his face. He'd assumed Tasha was getting her stuff on the street, through a framework of various interlopers. Now he's getting news that his kid sister is taking substances thrown together in some coed's bathtub? This is too much.

"Tash--" James starts, trying hard to keep his bubbling anger and concern from spilling over.

"He's a PhD candidate," Tasha says defensively. In Chemistry. And--" her eyes flicker from side to side as she seems to wonder what's appropriate to spill. "I won't tell you his name. But... I'll tell you that he got kicked off the football team for being too violent, but he still wears his green jersey all the time to prove how much better and calmer he's become since that happened, which was only in the freshman year of his undergrad..." Tasha babbles on.

The more she defends the guy, the more James hates him. He feels bad for him a little, slinging synthesized crack to get by. He feels better for Tasha, knowing that what she's taking is most probably pure. But the sex thing is--

"It's kinda creepy," Steve says, taking the words right from James's mouth. "Like, how much older than you is he?"

"I don't know." Tasha shrugs. "Not that much, I don't think. Started school early, finished fast. And I'm not sure this is his first post-graduate program..."

"Maybe shouldn't've added that last part," James says, screwing up his eyes. "So he's had, like, however long to prey on girls who are barely legal. Who might not even be legal..."

"Well, I'm legal, and I can do what I want." Tasha crosses her arms in front of her chest.

"Yeah," James sighs. "Unfortunately."

"But what about the thing with the handcuffs? The gang rape? Losing your bra?" Steve blurts out.

"Wait, you..." Tasha's eyes flash with anger. "You told him?"

"What did I say about privacy?" James quickly reminds her. "The non-puking kind? And, um," He looks to Steve. "Maybe a little respect?"

"Sorry," Steve mutters. "But--I really do--"

"I don't really remember that stuff," Tasha says.

James studies her face, but he can't tell if she's lying.

"Probably just party stuff that got out of hand."

'You mean you were too stoned to know the difference between your regular and some random dude off the street,' James thinks. 'What do you do at parties? And how the fuck do you slip past me?'

"He's your pimp, too, isn't he?" Steve asks, pointing at Tasha rather accusatorially, in James's opinion.

"No!" Tasha leans forward and brings her arms down to cover her clearly still sore abdomen. "Bruce wouldn't--" She swallows. "I didn't-- You didn't hear--"

James hasn't been a student long enough to know who was on the football team 4, 5, 6-odd years ago. He supposes he could look it up, crossing the name with accounts of any violent incident that amount of time ago. He's not sure he wants to, though he'll probably wind up looking it up later. Either that, or Steve will. James still has his ex-mil connections, a few of which were absorbed into the local police force. Steve, on the other hand, is better with social media and navigating the niceties of such mysteries as SnapChat and TikTok.

"Ok, fine," James says, just ameliorate his sister's panic.

"He doesn't even drug me at parties," Tasha goes on, probably unaware of how terribly young and desperate she sounds, making lame-ass excuses so she can keep her boy toy.

"And you've had other guys who did?" Steve asks incredulously, even though James shakes his head frantically at him to try to get him to shut up.

"You know Rumlow?" Tasha asks, since apparently she's now all about spilling names.

James shakes his head, but Steve screws up his eyes and says in a disgusted voice, "him?"

"Yeah..." Tasha sighs and looks down at her fingernails, which are stained rust-red at the root. "Remember the night I didn't come home?"

"Yeah, and scared the living shit out of us because your phone was off," James fills in the blanks.

"Well, I didn't turn it off."

"You mean that asshole kept you overnight without any means of getting yourself out of there?" Steve looks downright sick. "I mean, I know he looks slimy, but that?"

"I think Maria accidentally slept on the couch and found me at, like, 6am trying to stick my head in the linen closet because I couldn't find the bathroom." Tasha laughs, though the situation is anything bur funny.

"And I was so pissed at her for having you out all night..." James trails off.

"Yeah, maybe respect my choices a little more?" Tasha glares at him. "I mean, Maria's studying to become an EMT now. You can't think that badly of her."

'Great,' James thinks. 'Someone who'll drug Tasha to the gills every weekend.' She'll be less likely to overdose, but James has seen it all too often in the field. Newly minted medical personnel eager to sow off their skills and rushing into action.

"Yeah," James says, trying not to smirk. "So you got a girlfriend and a boyfriend now?"

"Ew, no," Tasha replies. "Friends with...benefits, I guess. If you even want to call it that. Folks who look out for each other, using a barter system?"

"Did you recently take World History?" James can't help but poking at her vocabulary.

"Fucking-a, I don't know. Once I pass, it's in my past."

"That's actually a good motto," Steve points out.

"Anyway," James says, bringing the conversation back to topic. "None of your...friends... are invited to this house."

"It's not like I want to bring them over for dinner," Tasha replies. "I guess drop off and pickup might happen, since, well, you know now, and I don't have a car." She shrugs. "Cool?"

James hates the idea of someone inebriated driving a car in which his sister is a passenger, despite the fact that he's done it before. Regularly, actually. Maybe he just hates the idea of the driver being someone who Tasha just fucked. The air might be heavy between them. They might smell like each other's deodorant and musk. They might kiss each other good bye. The thought makes James's stomach turn.

But, "sure," he says. "That's fine.” At least she'll come home.

James shares a glance with Steve, which seems to confirm the same sentiments, "Yeah," Steve echoes, as if his opinion counts for anything. "Fine."

[annewritesfic]

Happy Endings Don’t Exist

hey so i don’t really feel like making this like a full, normal, multichapter au but i really am attached to the tlc au (which @anythingbutwallflower helped a ton with because she’s amazing) and i kinda wanna post some of it so um yeah, here’s some

based off chapter 44 of scarlet by marissa meyer

(brief explanation of context at the end)

word count: 2660

triggers: mentions of guns, blood, scalpels, sleeping drugs, death, sacrifice, and murder

As the ship finally made it to neutral orbit, Chess sat back in the chair, rubbing her eyes and releasing a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. She gave herself just one moment to sit there, eyes closed, all the aches and pains of the last few days catching up to her, before turning around to face the others.

Kate Dalton was sitting cross-legged against a crate, eyes closed and both hands splayed against the floor, like she was bracing themself. Cairo was still unconscious, spread-eagle on her back, a smear of blood leading to the edge of the ramp. The strange woman was off to the side, also unconscious, laying on her side with her back to Chess, both braids messy and coming undone.

“I’m really glad you’re a pilot,” Kate said, eyes still closed. “Thank you.”

“Your ship does pretty good on its own,” Chess said awkwardly, hands in her lap.

“Thanks!” said the voice from before over the speaker. “I’m Reese. It’s great to meet you!”

Chess glanced up curiously.

Kate stood up and stretched, wincing a little. “Reese is an old friend of mine. She’s… she was an android, but now she’s the ship’s auto-control system until I can find a replacement body for her and a new system for the ship.”

Chess couldn’t think of an answer, so she said nothing. She stood up and limped over to Cairo, sinking to her knees at her side and settling a hand on Cairo’s head.

“She should be all right,” Kate said from behind her. “I think. I’ve never, um, stuck around long enough to see the after-effects of those darts, but…”

Chess bit her lip. “You said you had bandages?”

“Right, in the med bay. I’ll, um… I’ll go get them.” Kate left the room, leaving Chess alone with Cairo and the stranger, both of them unconscious.

Not for long, apparently, though, because the stranger began to stir, then sat up groggily, rubbing her eyes. “Ugh… whererewe?” she mumbled.

Chess almost answered, but then Kate came back, clutching some salve and gauze. “Oh, you’re awake,” Kate said. “I was hoping you’d stay knocked out for awhile. It was kinda nice without you running your mouth.” Despite their words, Chess could see from her expression that Kate was glad the stranger was okay. Kate tossed one tube of salve to the stranger, then handed Chess the other supplies and sat on one of the crates. Chess realized there was a scalpel in the mix and gave Kate a questioning look. “We need to cut out your ID chips, before someone realizes you’re with us and tracks them.”

Right. Of course. Chess pushed away the memory of finding her grandmother’s ID chip, neatly wrapped in cheesecloth, on the dresser, and picked up the scalpel, glad she was right-handed. Neither Kate, nor the stranger, offered to help.

The stranger pulled herself to her feet, but quickly stumbled onto another crate, eyeing Chess and Cairo suspiciously. “Got the wolf on board? You sure she won’t kill us in our sleep?”

Chess glared at her, beginning to clean and bandage the wounds on one of Cairo’s arms. “She’s not an animal.”

“You sure? ‘Cause I definitely heard her pack buddies howling.”

“I hate to agree with Farrah,” Kate put in, “I mean, really hate to agree with Farrah, but she’s right. How do we know she’s on our side?”

Chess started to answer, then hesitated. “You’ll see when she wakes up.”

“Now I feel much better,” Farrah muttered, dabbing a little bit of ointment on the spot where Kate’s tranquilizer dart had hit her.

Chess grit her teeth and kept bandaging Cairo’s wounds.

“Screen, on,” Kate said. The volume was off, but a news anchor appeared, eyes full of fear. The screen behind the anchor showed a man with a crazy grin, face streaked with blood, before the image was replaced with static. Chess tore her gaze away and bent to cut out Cairo’s ID chip, noticing a scar there - almost like it hadn’t been long since she’d received the chip in the first place.

“These attacks are happening in a ton of major cities,” Kate said softly.

Cairo groaned, drawing everyone’s attention to her. Out of the corner of her eye, Chess saw Farrah pick up her abandoned gun and cock it at Cairo’s head, but ignored her.

Chess set both of their ID chips aside and cupped Cairo’s face with one hand. “Are you okay?”

Cairo’s eyes took a moment to focus on her. “Chess?” The name was barely past her lips when she jerked away from Chess’s hand, turning away and vomiting.

“Aces, I’m glad that didn’t happen to me,” Farrah commented.

“Sorry,” Kate said. “I think that might be a side effect of the drugs in those darts.”

Cairo collapsed on her back, one hand over her eyes, then looked at Chess. The wildness from Paris was gone, and there was something familiar, even comforting in the way she looked at Chess. “You’re alive.”

Chess fidgeted with the zipper on her jacket, suddenly nervous. “Yeah, thanks to you.”

Farrah scoffed. “Thanks to her? I’m sorry, whose ship are you on again?”

“Shut up, Farrah,” Kate said shortly.

Cairo turned to look at Kate. “Where are we?”

“A cargo ship orbiting Earth.” Kate stared at a point on the wall behind Cairo, like they couldn’t meet her eyes. “I shot you with a tranquilizer dart. Sorry about that, but I kinda thought you were gonna kill her, so…”

“I sort of thought I was, too,” Cairo said, her voice hoarse. She studied Kate, her gaze catching on her metal hand. “I think my queen is looking for you.”

“And that's supposed to make me feel better?” Farrah demanded.

Chess put a hand on Cairo’s shoulder. “She’s better now. Aren’t you?”

Cairo shrugged Chess’s hand off. “You shouldn’t have brought me here. I’m only going to put you all in danger.”

Farrah released the safety on the gun.

“Don’t be stupid,” Chess said. “It’s not your fault.”

“Chess, if anything happened to you because of me-”

“Do you intend to harm anyone on this ship?” Kate interrupted.

Cairo blinked at her. “No, of course not.”

Nobody moved for three seconds, but then Kate relaxed. “She’s telling the truth.”

“Are you sure?” Farrah asked skeptically.

“Guys!” Reese interrupted. “Eva is going to make an announcement!”

The volume on the net screen turned on, and all four of them turned to face it as the image cut to the empress of the Eastern Commonwealth, onstage in the EC’s press room. She stood at the podium, her dress shirt a little rumpled, eyes red and tired. Kate anxiously started chewing the thumbnail on their human hand, eyes fixed to the screen.

“Kate has a bit of a crush on the empress,” Farrah stage-whispered.

“Don’t we all?” Reese sighed over the speakers. Man, what a personality… Chess didn’t know androids were ever like that.

"I've called this press conference on such short notice to address the attack on Earth that began three and a half hours ago," she said, her voice clear. "I am sure many of Earth's people are begging to know the answer to why this is happening." Eva paused and took a deep breath. "It was my fault."

Kate began to shake a bit. Cairo reached for Chess’s hand and squeezed.

"Many of you are aware that Queen Levana has been threatening war on our planet for nearly her entire rule. She chose to initiate these attacks now, because I have been unable to meet her clear expectations to adhere to a treaty between Luna and Earth. It is my responsibility to end these attacks and prevent a full-scale war as long as it is in my power to do so." Eva didn't look at any of the reporters, instead focusing her gaze on the back wall like she was ashamed of herself. "I have accepted a marriage alliance with Queen Levana of Luna."

"No!" Kate said, launching to their feet. "No!"

"In return," Eva continued, unaware of the effect her words had on the crewmembers of the Rampion, "Luna will withhold further attacks. The wedding will take place on the next full moon, the twenty fifth of September, and will be followed immediately by Queen Levana's coronation as empress of the Eastern Commonwealth. The removal of all Lunar soldiers from Earth will begin the following day, the twenty sixth of September."

"You fucking idiot!" Kate screamed at the screen. She grabbed the bandages sitting on a crate and hurled them at the screen. “No! You can’t fucking do that!”

"My cabinet will provide further updates in the coming days. I will be taking no questions tonight. Thank you." Despite Eva's words, the room filled with the reporters' incessant questions, but Eva ignored them and walked off the stage, holding her head high but looking like a defeated general.

"I fucking told her not to do it," Kate spat. “Levana murdered thousands of innocent people and now she's going to be the fucking empress?" They stepped on the two ID chips on the floor, grinding them to pieces among the blood. "And that won't satisfy her for long. She's going to use the Commonwealth as just a stepping stone to get to the rest of the world, and I told her that would happen, and she's still going through with the fucking marriage alliance! She's going to take control of the goddamn solar system and it'll be Eva's fault!” They sat back down on the crate, head in her hands, shaking.

Chess dropped Cairo’s hand and crossed her arms. “I think this seems more like your fault.”

Kate looked up at Chess with an unreadable expression. Farrah settled her chin on her hand, like she was watching an entertaining TV show, but her other hand kept the gun pointed at Cairo’s head.

“You know why she ordered those attacks,” Chess continued, standing up. “Because of you.”

Kate’s lips parted a little in surprise. “Your grandmother told you, didn’t she?”

“Yeah, she did, and it’s sickening that you let this happen in the first place!” Chess said, raising her voice just a little bit.

Kate jumped off the crate, both hands curled into fists, but didn’t make a move towards Chess. “What would you like me to do, then? Hand myself over? Sacrifice myself and cross my fingers it’ll satisfy her? If that’s what I had done, we would’ve ended up here anyway.”

“I don’t mean when you were arrested at the ball,” Chess spat. “I mean before that. Why haven’t you done anything to stop her? People are depending on you! And you did nothing for years!” She threw her hands in the air. “My grandmother sacrificed herself for you, and you’re running away and hiding like a goddamn coward.”

Farrah raised her hand. “Uh, I’m confused. What are we talking about?”

Chess turned on her. “Stop pointing that gun at her!”

Farrah tossed the gun aside and crossed her arms.

Chess looked back at Kate. “She doesn’t know, does she? You put her life in danger - all of our lives in danger - and she doesn’t know why!”

“It’s not that simple-”

“Isn’t it?”

“I haven’t even known for a week!” Kate shouted. “I found out when I was sitting in prison, waiting to be shipped off to Luna to be executed. So between breaking out of prison, running from the entire Commonwealth military, and saving your goddamn life, there hasn’t been a whole lot of time to overthrow an entire regime! So I’m sorry to disappoint you!” They leaned against the crate, head in her hands, breathing hard.

Chess’s mind whirling, trying to fit this new information into something that made sense. “How did you not know?”

“Because your grandmother shipped me off to New Beijing five years ago without bothering to tell me.”

“But-but that’s why you were at the ball, wasn’t it?”

Kate laughed bitterly, a sharp, angry sound, and looked up at Chess. “You really think I would’ve been stupid enough to face Levana if I’d known?” She paused. “Well, maybe… maybe for Eva. I don’t know. I didn’t know.”

“Oh.” Chess sank back to the floor, feeling oddly guilty.

Farrah waved her hand a little. “Um, I’m still confused.”

Kate sighed and looked at the ceiling. “I’m Princess Selene.”

Silence for a beat.

Farrah laughed, but nobody else did, and slowly the realization dawned on her face. “Really?”

“Really.”

Farrah’s eyes widened. “You’re Princess Selene. The crazy cyborg is Princess Selene.”

Kate glared at her. “Are you done?”

“I don’t compute,” Reese said slowly. Chess hid her surprise - she kept forgetting Reese was there.

“Yeah, me neither,” Farrah agreed. “Since when?”

“I should’ve told you,” Kate said. “But… but it was all so new, and I thought… maybe, if I could find Michelle Benoit, get some questions answered… I’m sorry.”

It was quiet for a moment.

“Is your gift intact?” Cairo asked.

“Yeah, but I’m still… still learning how to use it.” Kate sank to the floor and sat against the crate, and suddenly it hit Chess just how young they were - at sixteen, Kate was the youngest in this room by several years. Just a kid, really. And yet there was so much weight on her shoulders…

“She controlled one of the special ops,” Chess offered. “I saw them do it.”

Kate scoffed. “Yeah, barely.”

Cairo’s eyes widened. “You controlled one of the soldiers? While Jael was there?”

Kate fidgeted nervously. “Well, yeah, but it was awful. I barely got to him, and then I nearly passed out-”

“That’s why Levana wants you,” Cairo said, her expression amazed. “You are stronger than she is. Or at least you could be, with a little practice.”

Kate shook their head, hugging her knees. “That thaumaturge had seven soldiers under his control, and I could barely handle one. I’m not even close to being as strong as Levana.”

“You don’t understand,” Cairo said. “Each pack is controlled by a thaumaturge, who controls when the animal instincts the genetic manipulation gave us take control. We’ve all had the physical modifications, but really, it all comes back to a thaumaturge. A normal Lunar citizen couldn’t hope of controlling us, and even the thaumaturges, who could control hundreds of people at once, can only handle up to fifteen. That’s why the special op packs are kept so small.” She grinned. “And you took one away from a thaumaturge on your first try? With no training or anything? Her Majesty might have cause to be afraid of you, Princess.”

Kate glared at Cairo. “Don’t call me that.”

Cairo raised an eyebrow. “Assuming, of course, that you do want to fight her. Which I think you do, judging by your response to your empress’s announcement.”

Kate automatically glanced at the screen, which was now replaying Eva’s announcement, although Reese had muted the volume. “I don’t know. I don’t know how to be a leader, or-”

“But you can stop her,” Chess interrupted. “So many people think you can. My grandmother sacrificed herself for this, and I won’t let that be wasted.”

“And if you really are who you claim to be, that makes you my true queen,” Cairo added. “So you have my loyalty.”

“I don’t want your fucking loyalty.”

“Then what do you want?” Chess asked, trying and probably failing to be gentle.

Kate squeezed their eyes shut, then opened them and glared at the both of them. “I want some time alone to think, without you guys chattering in my ear!” They kicked off her boots and stormed out of the room, her metal foot clanging against the floor with every other step.

Farrah sighed. “I know, I know. They seem a bit…” She crossed her eyes and twirled her fingers around her ears. “But I promise, once you get to know her, it’s all part of their charm.”

~

ok so a bit of context:

after the fourth world war, there are six nations at peace on earth, plus a kingdom on the moon, called luna. luna has had rocky relations with earth for hundreds of years. the heir to the throne was supposed to be princess selene, but in order to keep her hold on the throne, queen levana tried to kill the princess at just three years old. selene survived and was brought to earth to be kept safe, and is kate dalton, a cyborg mechanic from new beijing. the eastern commonwealth is ruled by the young empress eva, who very recently took the throne after the death of her mother. farrah thorne is an escaped convict who helped kate break out of prison after the ball, when kate tried to stop eva from entering the marriage alliance with levana but failed and was arrested. selene was sheltered for eight years by chess’s grandmother, michelle benoit. and cairo is one of levana’s special ops, and her genetics were split with those of a wolf, giving her special abilities. all lunars have what they call their “gift,” their ability to manipulate biolectricity and control people/make them see something that’s not there/make their appearances different, but the gift only works face to face. and... yeah, feel free to shoot me an ask on my main, @i-don-t-even-care, if you have any other questions!!!!!!!

[wanderingchocolateeclair]

When it rains - an Edgejeanist backstory

Ao3 link

As I have mentioned before I wanted to do a drawing for this eventually but it would take a lot of effort and I don’t have that in me right now so I’m gonna share it with you in the form of a rather long jumble of words instead :D it might be too long to read on tumblr because it kept on crashing the app when I worked on it so please feel free to read it over on ao3!

I wasn’t really happy with the drawing I did for the injury prompt so I’m posting this to make up for it lmao

If you have not read my Edgeshot backstory (well the summary that I did), I do recommend it because it may give some context as to what they’re talking about!

This was originally meant to be happy but it turned out kinda angsty (unsurprisingly)...but then I managed to make it not as angsty?? Anyway ->

Warning: a few times they talk about death, mentions of injury, self-doubt and generally quite sad stuff.

Also, it turned out incredibly long so imma stuff it all under the cut for those of you who don’t wanna read it :)

Hakamata Tsunagu wasn’t one to usually complain when sent on a mission, however on this particular stormy evening he really didn’t fancy the idea of being caught up in a case that wasn’t in his own area, simply because he was “passing by” trying to go home. But, he understood that this guy was quite the hassle and it would probably be best to sort it out as soon as possible. When he arrived to the area he could see that there were already many other heroes on the scene, including one of the higher ranking heroes - Edgeshot. They had met before and had worked together on various cases due to the two of them being known for rather rapidly climbing up the ranks, not to mention that their ranks were neighbouring and often would over take one another. So they knew each other, to some extent. He walked over to where the ninja hero was standing to ask him about the details of the villain they were going against.

“Fire-type quirk, troublesome. Had many sidekicks aiding him in an armed robbery. We’ve managed to apprehend most of the smaller accomplices, however this guy’s a pain, so I was told to wait for you to arrive in order to end this quickly.” The fiber hero hadn’t even said a word and had already gotten his answer.

“I see. I guess we should probably get to it then, as he seems to have his eye on escape.” Jeanist swiftly responded as he went on to restrict the villain’s clothes to prevent him from moving any further. Luckily, the area had been cleared out and the other villains had been carted away by the other heroes that were in the scene, so the only ones left in the area were the two of them, and this maniac.

The air around the two pros started to heat up and before they could act, flames burst from the open air around them causing them both to flinch and Jeanist to lose his focus. The villain started to sprint away from the scene but Edgeshot was one step ahead of him. The hero had rushed over and the two had started to engage in a fight, and the villain had no problem with using his quirk to aid in this. Jeanist tried to drag the villain back to the open space using the denim threads of his own clothing and had managed to grab hold of him, however, the two were unaware of what the man was carrying. He was taken back when a cold, sharp object came flying towards him, cutting through the high collar of his hero costume and through the skin of his ear and cheek - causing him to curse quite audibly.

“Watch it!” The silver haired hero hissed as he took another swing at the walking flamethrower, now also knife-thrower apparently, in front of him.

“My apologies,” mumbled the lanky blond as he regained his posture once more and continued to restrain the armed robber.

The other hero hesitated for a moment. “Ah- wait no, sorry, I meant uh- I meant the other guy, not you sorry.. you just got a knife thrown at you why would I yell at you?” They hadn’t properly spoken before so Shinya really didn’t want to give him the wrong impression of himself, especially since it was someone he kind of admired and...uh well...yeah. The two shared a rather awkward apologetic glance as they tried to come up with something to say but were rather rudely interrupted when-

“Oh for THE LOVE OF-” the villain angrily snapped around, “YOU TWO ARE REALLY DOIN’ MY HEAD IN! WOULD’YA GIVE IT A REST? OR AT LEAST JUST. SHUT. UP.” The heroes barely had time to react when the villain set his whole body and the air around it on fire. The flames engulfed the two who were previously fighting each other and briskly travelled along the threads that were restricting the man from escaping, and towards a startled Jeanist. The fire had reached the fiber heroes arm at this point and was obviously going to spread further if it weren’t for him removing that part of his sleeve, only shortly after the ninja hero had speedily shot forwards and cut through the fiber that connected Jeanist and the villain, his own arm very much ablaze. However, he didn’t look too concerned for his own injury as he eyed the taller man’s scorched arm.

The two heroes were now starting to get rather tired. Not because they were weak, or this guy strong, but just because they wanted to go home. They’d really had enough at this point and really wanted to just end this before the weather got any worse, but this stupid lunatic just wouldn’t give in! Maybe it was the fact that they had never really fought alongside each other before, so were holding back the more powerful, more dangerous side of their quirks - in case a mistake would be made that could injure the other. That was probably why it took so long.

After many more painfully long minutes, they had managed to wear down the robber enough to get close enough to knock him out. Tying him up, the two heroes handed the unconscious villain over to the police that had just arrived to help clear up the scene of any passer-by’s. At this point, it was the late evening and already rather dark and gloomy, the sky let out a large growl as if to warn that it would only get worse...and well, it’s point was proven as it started to rain.

The blond hero sighed and glanced up at the sky in dismay, realising that all that paperwork wasn’t going to get done by itself, and grumbling at the fact that he still had to get back home - which was going to be a real pain in this weather. He wasn’t a huge fan of the rain, especially with that denim hero costume of his, but he decided to ignore all of that and started making his way towards the train station, hoping to get home before the weather becomes too bad. Edgeshot noticed the other hero’s intent to go home and looked back up at the sky. No chance. That weather was way worse than Jeanist thought it was and he knew that by the time the other man reached the train station, there would be an unbelievable length of time before he would be able to get to where he wanted to go - not to mention how busy it would be. Taking a moment to think things through, he decided to chase after the lanky hero and called out to him, suggesting a better idea.

“I wouldn’t take the train right now if I were you,” Shinya advised the tall figure in front of him.

Tsunagu was confused, he wanted to get home and that was currently his only means of transport. “Why? What’s wrong? Please tell me there’s not another villain to deal with...” he murmured. Oh he really hoped that wasn’t the case, because there’s no way he could fight in this storm - especially with all these new burns, they may have been small but wow they hurt like hell! He looked down at the shorter man in front of him, weary of the answer he may receive but felt an odd sense of relief when he saw him let out a light chuckle. Or was it cough? Maybe a sigh? How would he know - that man was as mysterious as they get!

“Ah no, that’s not it.” Shinya couldn’t help but feel amused by Tsunagu’s response. The rain was soaking into his costume and was making it a little harder to breathe through his mask, so he tried his best not to laugh. “It’s just that this storm isn’t going to be easing anytime soon, and I feel that it’s only going to get worse - there’s no chance that transport will be easy, especially not for a hero in such a state as yourself.”

“Oh...I hadn’t thought of that,” Tsunagu replied, “do you...have any suggestions as to what I should do instead?” He understood what the other was saying, he had quite a few burns and a large gash across the side of his face - there’s no way that people wouldn’t notice that - but he really did want to get out of this miserable rain. So where could he possibly go, if not straight home?

“Yes, actually, that’s what I was wanting to talk to you about.” Shinya shifted his weight from one foot to the other, unsure as to how he should phrase his next question. “Um...well...my...my house- I mean, do you want to stay at my place? Until the storm blows over-” he stopped himself mid-sentence. That did not come out the way he heard it in his head, and why did he panic?

“Pardon?”

“Sorry, I-” Oh. Right. He probably didn’t understand that rushed mumble of his. Thank god, Shinya could have another go at mending his failed attempt at a suggestion. “Ah...my house isn’t far from here, it doesn’t take that long to walk there. And, well, I just wanted to suggest that you come with me. Those injuries could do with tending to, and with this storm getting worse, I just thought that it might be of help to you to stay at mine until the storm passes. Only if you’d be willing of course- It’s simply a suggestion I thought might be easier than you staying in this rain.”

“Oh. I see. That’s...thoughtful...I- are you sure?” Tsunagu was taken aback, but was definitely not opposed to the idea of getting out of the rain.

“Yes, of course. If you are okay with accompanying me?”

“Really?”

“Yes!”

“...thank you”

Shinya glanced up at the taller figure in front of him and smiled. Not that you could really tell.

They both decided it would be best to stay somewhere warm, get patched up, and wait for the weather to relax. So, off they went, away from the scene that had just been up in flames - now basically back to normal - and toward wherever this mysterious little ninja’s home was.

————————————————————

After a while of walking through heavy rain, dodging leaves as they zoomed past on the wind of the winding path, and silently accompanying each other with minimal words between them, they finally reached Shinya’s house. Not in the middle of nowhere, but also not near any busy city noise. It was peaceful, well, as peaceful as it could be in a raging storm.

Shinya fumbled at the door handle with numb fingers, as he attempted to unlock it as quickly as possible. The door opened with a small click and was gently pushed open. He gestured for the taller man to enter and closed the door after them, relieving them from the cold wind. As soon as they were both inside, they shared a long sigh of relief - ahhh....warmth...

“Sorry, it isn’t much,” Shinya said as he set down his bags and rain soaked hero gear, “I’m the only one that lives here, so I never really thought about how small it was. But now that someone else is here with me...”

“Haha it’s fine! Lovely, even, I think it’s quite sweet.” Tsunagu chuckled, placing his heavy and rather soggy denim coat gently to the side. He’d always liked the more traditional style houses, they had this comforting feeling to them that he couldn’t quite describe. “How long have you had this place?”

Shinya smiled and led Tsunagu towards the living room, they could do with a sit down after all that walking. “It was my Gran’s, well, she wasn’t really my Gran but that’s what we called her. She took us in and looked after us - my sister and I - and after she died we kept this place. Eventually, my sister moved out to be nearer the main city, but I thought it best to stay. I’m comfortable here, you know what I mean?”

“Of course,” Tsunagu nodded, “I think it’s wonderful.”

“Thanks...”

Shinya looked up, watching as droplets of water dripped from the other’s droopy fringe, his own hair now clinging to the side of his face. They both still had their faces masked and breathing through damp fabric probably wouldn’t be very good for their health. As Shinya noticed this, he let out a startled noise that took Tsunagu by surprise.

“AH!”

“What? What happened? Is something wrong?”

“No, I just realised, we’re still stuck in our costumes. They’re soaked! It’s probably best if we get cleaned up before anything else...” Shinya exclaimed.

“Oh, right.” Tsunagu replied quietly. He’d actually forgotten about the rain, which was weird because normally he’d be grumbling about it louder than the storm itself!

“There’s a spare bathroom downstairs, just to the left of the kitchen. It’s quite small but works just as well.” Shinya handed Tsunagu a towel and some spare clothes, looking a little hesitant as he did so. “I had some spare clothes lying around, though I’m sorry they probably won’t fit you very well...you’re very tall compared to me...” Shinya muttered sheepishly.

Tsunagu chuckled at the shorter man’s rather obvious remark and folded the fabric that was now in his own hands. “That’s very kind of you, thank you. It’s okay, I’m sure I’ll be able to adjust it to fit well enough.”

“Oh, of course, that’s- you can do that can’t you...I kinda forgot about that.” Shinya felt even more embarrassed from that, but managed to brush it off as he looked back up at the rather amused figure in front of him. “Well anyway, I’ll be cleaning myself up upstairs and preparing the things we need to tidy up those troublesome injuries of yours-”

“And yours I hope.” Tsunagu briefly interrupted.

“O-of course,” Shinya stuttered a reply. He’d actually somehow forgotten about his own injuries, too caught up in the company of another for once. “Well, if you should need anything, please just call me, I’ll be down as soon as I’m finished- oh and don’t feel the need to rush, take as long as you need.”

“Thank you.”

Tsunagu watched as the other left the room before making his way towards the bathroom. It was quite a small room. He made sure the door was securely locked before peeling away his sodden hero costume, piece by piece.

Looking at his reflection in the mirror, he noticed how deep of a cut it was that ran across his left cheek and over his ear. The rain had washed away most of the blood but it was still quite the nasty injury. He grimaced. ‘That’s gonna leave a bit of a scar...’ he thought to himself. Oh well, just another one to add to his growing collection of them. Although, he suddenly realised something. He’d have to show his face. And what about Shinya? Didn’t he always cover his face as well? Would they really be able to trust each other enough to show their faces to one another - even though they barely knew each other?

He felt himself freeze as he thought about it. They were both known for masking their faces, but the idea of showing his face had always made him feel uneasy. Little did he know that about five minutes prior, Shinya had the same nerve-wracking revelation and was feeling just as conflicted as he was. ‘Stop it, dammit,’ Tsunagu frowned, ‘he’s been so kind and nice to you, I doubt there’s anything to worry about...’

He shook his head and brushed these worries aside before stepping into the running shower. Oh wow, that felt nice. The water flowed over his shuddering body and embraced him in a warm blanket of comfort. Though, it did sting a bit when it seeped into the crevices of the gash on his face, and over the burns on his arms. However, he didn’t mind. He was used to these kinds of small pains and, though he’d be ashamed to admit it, he found it oddly comforting.

At the same time, Shinya was preparing a first aid kit, disinfectant and some warm damp cloths (he, luckily, knew what he was doing. Even if I don’t lol). He’d already managed to clean himself up and had changed into some older, plain clothes - so fast, but as expected from someone as stealthy as himself! Humming quietly to himself, he listened as the sky let out another loud grumble. “Why are you so angry today!?” He chuckled at the noise the raging storm made as he tidied up, “you’re doing this on purpose aren’t you! You always seem to pick ever so specific times to conjur up a storm...is it because I seemed lonely? You want me to make a friend or something?”

The sky growled again and Shinya took that as his response. He’d always found himself talking to the nature around him when he was alone, it had just become a habit of his - he found comfort and company from doing so...and it always seemed to have a way of replying. He was a bit anxious at the thought of showing his face to another, but had managed to push away his concerns as best he can. ‘What else is there to be worried about, Shinya?’ He thought to himself. ‘He’s already in your house. So in terms of his knowledge about you now, you’d basically already be screwed! He knows where you live, so I don’t think that showing your face would be that bad. Plus he’s a hero, isn’t he? Not to mention he’s trusting you with his own identity too...it’ll be fine...’

He sighed and clutched his stinging, scorched arm. Glancing at the rain that danced its way down the cold glass of his bedroom window, he headed back downstairs to give company to his guest who was just as battered and tired as he was.

Shinya set the items he had prepared, down on the small coffee table and walked to the kitchen to grab some hot water. As he stood there, he heard the bathroom door click and turned to see it open ever so slightly. “You’re done? I’ve prepared some stuff to bandage up our injuries and disinfect that nasty cut of yours,” he called out.

“Ah, yes. Thank you,” Tsunagu replied from behind the door.

“...uhm...would you like me to go and wait-”

“Oh! No, there’s no need, sorry...” Tsunagu blurted out as fast as he could. “It’s just...well...I...” he trailed off. ‘It’s never been easy, will he understand that?’

“Don’t worry, I understand. But I guess that with it being just the two of us here... can we say that we may fully trust one another?”

Tsunagu let out a small sigh of relief, before nudging the door open further and emerging from behind it. Making eye contact with the smaller figure in front of him, he smiled gently as he allowed the other to view his face. Shinya doing the same in return. “I guess so.”

Shinya locked eyes with the man that stood in front of him. Wow. He...did not look anything like how he expected...not that he really knew what he expected. Damp, blond hair was messily ruffled across the top of the taller man’s head. He’d managed to make the spare clothes fit well enough to make it look as if they could possibly be his own, though they were still awfully short. They suited him well, actually, and Shinya felt himself stare a little at this gangly noodle in front of him. Why did he look good in those clothes? Hell, they’re old and rather tatty and are way too small for him, and yet he still manages to look like a freaking model in them! And to top it off, they were just some clothes that Shinya owned, that happened to be the longest things he could find! He was unsure of why, but the sight in front of him definitely made him feel rather “odd” (in his own words) - though he didn’t really know what that was.

There were so many things about him in that moment that seemed so out of character for “best jeanist” but what really caught his eye were his scars. Ignoring the large cut on his cheek, Shinya traced his eyes over the bottom half of Tsunagu’s face in a shared silence. Large scars ran from just above his chin, and down to his neck. Some ran over his lips, which had formerly been pressed together to form a small smile, but were now separated slightly in a shocked manner. Noticing where he was staring, Shinya felt his face heat up as he quickly averted his eyes and looked down at the kettle that he was clutching (he went to go boil some water, but had gotten distracted before he could actually put the kettle on). ‘What on earth are you doing, Shinya!? I mean he’s really pretty, sure, but you can’t just stare omg-’ he lectured himself as his face progressively got more unnaturally warm, ‘those scars though....whatever caused those couldn’t of been a small accident...’

Concurrently, Tsunagu was completely stunned. ‘Pretty...’ was the only thought that circulated around his mind for many long seconds. Not only was this man incredibly considerate and mysterious, he was also very pretty and wow did that make Tsunagu’s face redden like an overheated saucepan. He took in his sharp features with observant eyes. Shinya’s hair was no longer fashioned into spiky points, but was now pulled up into a high ponytail. He still had that long fringe covering his right eye, but instead of seeming blocky, it was now loose and soft - and oh wow was Tsunagu really resisting the urge to pat it - though it still looked to be quite sharp, as if you could cut your fingers on the edge of each strand. Tearing his focus away from the shorter man’s hair, he found himself softly staring at Shinya’s face. Though his first thought may have been about how pretty he was, he couldn’t help but notice the other’s scars. Yes, he had quite a few. They were mostly quite small and would go unnoticed by some, but there was one that stood out. A long scar, in the shape of a large gash just like the majority of his own, ran down from just under the corner of the uncovered side of Shinya’s mouth, and down to the middle of his neck. ‘What an idiot.’ Tsunagu thought to himself. ‘You were so busy worrying about showing your own face to even think that he’d be worried about the same thing...it’s...oddly comforting to see another that hides them...even though its not something I should probably be comforted about, since it means that there’s most possibly a painful story behind them...just like my own.’

After a couple of minutes of a shared, awkward silence, Shinya started the conversation back up again with a few stuttering words exchanged between them and nervous laughter. “Ah...um...I guess we should probably...you know...”

“Aha yeah, sorry...” Tsunagu rubbed the back of his neck, “the...uh...you...you forgot the hot water...”

“Oh! Yeah...sorry about that! Um, please, go and sit down. I’ll be there in a moment.”

Tsunagu made his way to the living room and sat down, his mind still curious about all these new discoveries. The pain in his cheek had started to sting even more than before and he was really wishing that he didn’t have to deal with that right now. Letting out a shaky sigh, he reached up to grab it in a hope to ease the pain slightly, but his burnt arm got caught on the edge of the sofa, causing him to let out a distressed grunt.

“Are you okay?” Shinya asked from just beside where the taller man was seated. Tsunagu was quite startled by the other, who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

“Ah, it’s just this stupid cut. It’ll probably be better once it’s been treated,” Tsunagu brushed it off, still rather confused by the speed of which the other man seemed to appear without being noticed.

“I see. Well, everything has been prepared so we should probably take care of that first.” Shinya smiled and took a seat next to the other man, gently picking up a cotton swab and dipping it in disinfectant. “The cut just has to be disinfected before anything else though, who knows what else that bastard had been doing-”

“Haha! You’re approaching this just like a proper doctor! So serious and everything,” Tsunagu laughed.

This made Shinya chuckle in response. “Well, I do like to think that I know a bit about what I’m doing!”

They laughed together for a couple of minutes and the tension between the two of them started to dissipate. Tsunagu eyed the cotton swab in Shinya’s hand and realised, how on earth was he gonna do that himself? Well, I think we all know that the answer is he wasn’t. Even he came to that conclusion, as he exchanged funny words with the man in front of him. Shinya knew this, and decided that it was time to tend to the lanky blond’s wounds.

“Do you trust me?” Shinya slyly asked.

“Huh?”

“Do you trust me?”

Tsunagu was hesitant to answer, not because he didn’t trust him, but because he had a feeling as to what was going to happen. “...yes...”

Without missing a beat, Shinya leaned forward and pressed the cold, disinfectant-soaked cotton pad against Jeanists cheek. This caused Tsunagu to scrunch up his face and let out a tiny screech from the shock - it stung like hell - and he was not prepared. “Wrong answer!” Shinya chuckled. He was a little unsure whether he was actually going to do that or not, but knew that it would only hurt more if the other man had to slowly and hesitantly do it himself...plus he actually knew what he was doing.

“Argh! You- you’re evil you know that?” Tsunagu yelped and sat upright, trying to get used to the sting of the disinfectant that was seeping into his cut.

“I try my best,” Shinya hummed as he held the taller mans face, tilting it slightly upwards to better see the injury in the light. Whilst doing so, he noticed how many scars were littered across his face, and felt a little sad at the sight of them. ‘There’s so many...I didn’t really notice before, but now, seeing them up close...these all feel like painful memories. And no matter how much I understand his reasons for hiding them, I cannot help but wonder what on earth happened to him...’

Tsunagu held his breath, wincing every once in a while as the smaller man dabbed the gash on his cheek. He was so close! Not only that, but he was holding his face and wow, did he look like an angel as the light illuminated him from above. He felt the tops of his ears redden as he let out a small breath. As Shinya held his face close to his own, Tsunagu noticed things that he hadn’t spotted before, and made him even more curious than before. Like the front tooth that was slightly chipped, that he could see when the other’s mouth twitched open everytime he dabbed at his cheek. Or, the two rather odd but beautiful tattoos that were wrapped around his two wrists. ‘So much to take in, I didn’t really notice it before, but all these things are so unique and different. His face looks so soft....and pretty....But I truly do wonder what could’ve happened to cause that.’

“Your scar-” Tsunagu mumbled before quickly cutting himself off. ‘Tsunagu, you idiot! You weren’t supposed to just blurt that out...I guess there’s no other option than to just ask now you stupid- stupid, ugh!’

“Hm?” Shinya locked eyes with the other in a distracted confusion, before getting embarrassed and quickly looking back down.

Tsunagu stuttered as he tried to find the right words to say. “O-oh, well...I, uh...Sorry, I was just curious about your scar. It’s just- I, well...wondered-”

“How I got it?” Shinya interrupted quietly, almost in a rather hushed tone.

“Ah. Yes. Sorry, I don’t mean to be nosy, it was simply a curious thought.”

“No, it’s alright, it’s okay. It seems both our curiosities lay in the same area of thought.” Shinya smiled softly, lowering the cotton swab and throwing it in the bin. As he went to pick up the thread (you know, the one they use to stitch up these wounds) Tsunagu placed his hand on his arm and stopped him from doing anything else. Shinya handed the thread to Jeanist and watched as the blond man slowly and carefully stitched up his now clean wound in one gentle swoop of his hand - though it did look quite painful by the look on his face. “Woah!” Shinya exclaimed in awe. He often forgot about the beautifully handy and elegant things that the other man could do with his quirk. This caused Tsunagu’s ears to redden even further.

Shinya let out a deep sigh and sat back slightly to take a rest for a moment. “Ah, where do I start? You said you were curious about my scar, but I’m sorry to tell you that this isn’t any light-hearted story...” he started, scratching the back of his neck and wincing as the burnt skin on his arm brushed against the fabric of the sofa.

“Sorry, you don’t have to...”

“No, it’s alright! To be honest, I think it would actually do some good to tell someone for a change...because, for once I feel that I can trust someone, and that’s a weird thing...” he muttered the last part under his breath so that the kind man next to him wouldn’t hear it. Tsunagu simply smiled in response, looking down as he acknowledged the smaller man’s courage to reveal a very clearly painful memory.

“Uhm, well, are you...are you aware of the small band of mountainside villages down south?” Shinya asked, “if I’m correct in thinking that you are a couple of years older than me...”

“Pffft- did you just call me old?” Tsunagu snorted.

“No! Of course not!” Shinya quickly defended himself. “It’s just that, you are around my age, so I was just wondering whether you’d know of it or not.” He smiled sheepishly as he watched the other’s amused face turn into one that was more focused.

The older man hummed quietly. “Yes, I think I know which villages you are talking about. My mother used to take us there every year when my father was off of work, to go and watch the yearly festivals. Oh, and to visit the market! They had some amazing tomatoes!” Shinya laughed at this little comment. They truly were some good tomatoes, though he preferred the strawberries that they’d grow there. “But...we...we stopped visiting when...” Tsunagu trailed off with a frown and looked back up at Shinya, noticing the distant smile that was faintly spread across his face.

“Then, you know what happened...you know what happened all those years ago?” Shinya questioned quietly as he reached for the bandages that were tangled in the basket. But, doing so only made his arm quiver in pain even more.

“Ah, please, let me do that,” Tsunagu insisted, reaching out for the bandages and using his quirk to gently and swiftly untangle them. He gave Shinya a reassuring look and gently took his arm, starting to wrap it very carefully. “Yes. I was around...13? Yeah, I think I was about 13 when it happened. It was all over the news, I don’t think I could ever forget it. It...was so awful, just hearing what happened...” he had a rough idea as to what Shinya was going to tell him, and it made his heart sink at the thought of it.

The sky let out another huge growl, and a streak of lightning flashed past the window, causing Tsunagu to flinch. Shinya didn’t move a muscle, but simply carried on with what he was doing.

“Hm.” Shinya felt his face warm up slightly as the taller man held his arm softly. ‘So gentle’ he made himself blush even more, but shook these thoughts away before continuing with what he was saying. “I guess it’s kind of obvious then, what I’m about to say I mean.”

“I...I don’t want to immediately assume what happened, but if what I think is true...”

“Yeah.” Shinya sighed. “It was my home. I’d lived there all my life until that day...they...they took everything from me...”

Tsunagu stopped wrapping the other’s arm and looked up, their faces merely inches away, taking in the broken sadness in his eyes and allowing it to drown his heart even further into the pit that it had sunk into.

“Everyone I knew, my friends, my family, everyone, they all died in front of me. There was nothing I could do to stop it... I was the only one that survived...just me...a small, defenceless, 10 year old child. I grew up as part of a family that was renowned for protecting their people, yet I couldn’t even protect my own innocence...my...my own mother...” Shinya’s voice started to get weaker and smaller as all of the memories started flooding back.

Tsunagu could do nothing but listen in shock. This was a lot to take in, and Shinya was trusting him enough to tell him something this personal. It pained him, watching the small ninja’s face contort into a broken frown. “...I’m sorry...”

His voice made Shinya snap back to reality and look him in the eye, confused. “What for? There isn’t anything for you to be sorry for...”

“No, I mean, making you have to think back on a memory that painful...it must’ve been horrible.” Tsunagu finished wrapping the other’s arm and let go of it slowly, hands still slightly lingering over the injured area.

Shinya sighed. He couldn’t disagree with that, it truly was the most painful memory he could imagine. Tucking his silver hair behind his ear, he reached up and touched the scar on his chin. “This was from that day. The people who ambushed us tried to attack me. They had stolen my own grandfather’s sword and managed to just catch my face as my mother whisked me away. It hurt, but I didn’t really notice it until later on...which...well...it’s not like they survived either...”

“Oh dear.” Tsunagu muttered, his face and arm still stinging. The wind picked up and rattled against the window, startling him again.

“I guess you’re wondering what these are as well,” Shinya gestured towards the intricate patterns that were inked into his wrists. “My family was part of that village for many generations. Over these generations, the Kamihara name became rather well known as a family of protectors and guardians. When my family died, I felt like I had lost all my connections to being a ‘Kamihara’ and so I decided to get these tattoos.”

He lifted his left arm, “this represents my father’s side of the family, the Kamihara name.” Then proceeding to point at the other arm, he explained the rest. “This represents my mother’s side of the family, always one with nature. I find that it’s a comforting way to keep them with me at all times, even if they’re not really there. It means that I can keep them safe, and in return they keep me safe too.”

“Wow...I think they’re beautiful!” Tsunagu breathed. They really were. The patterns were so small and intricate yet they held so much meaning and story...just like Shinya himself. “That’s- quite the tragic past...”

“Hm. Well, that’s what happened really...not all of it, but I think it’s best if that is shared some other day.” Shinya plucked the bandages out of the lanky blond’s hands and gestured towards his arms, waiting patiently as the other hesitatantly held out his own scorched arm. He looked back up at Tsunagu’s face and, out of some sort of instinct, reached up and gently touched the long scars on his face, deep in thought. After a very brief moment of...whatever that awkwardness was, Shinya snapped his head down to look back at his hands and Tsunagu averted his eyes in a nervous manner, both turning much redder than they had been before. “A-ah, I’m sorry!” Shinya immediately blurted out.

“No, it’s- it’s okay...” Tsunagu managed to stutter out. Blimey, that was awkward, why did his face feel so hot?

Once they had both managed to laugh it off, Shinya decided to return the same curious question that had been on both of their minds. “So...your scars...how did you get yours?”

Tsunagu froze. He knew it would come up in the conversation at some point, but he still had that reaction whenever someone asked. Shinya noticed this, and panicked a little, “Sorry! You don’t have to-”

“No no, it’s only fitting for you to ask the same question...and I think it’s best you know, since you shared your own story with me.” The anxious Jeanist interrupted. “But, I must ask you not to think ill of me after hearing this, nor should you feel the need to keep me here...I’m...it’s just...I-”

“It’s alright,” Shinya reassured him, “I’m not gonna kick you out of my house, just because of your past...you...didn’t judge mine.”

“Heh,” Tsunagu smiled and watched as the small ninja bandaged up his arm delicately. “Well, it’s not a happy story either, I’m afraid!”

“Guess that makes the both of us!” Shinya let out a light chuckle.

“Yeah...” He paused. These memories still scared him. “When...when my quirk activated, I didn’t know how to control it, like most children. The only thing is, both my sister and I had our quirks activate at the same time, being twins and all this was expected. This, however, just made things worse. I was...I was wearing a scarf at the time, and, well basically...to put it simply, I strangled myself.” He looked up, realising how stupid that sounded.

“Oh! That’s awful, though I’m sure it was probably much more traumatic at the time,” Shinya smiled sympathetically. “I can’t really say the same for my own rather embarrassing quirk discovery....”

“Well that sounds like a story I’d love to hear!”

“Oh, I’m sure!” Shinya laughed and cut the bandage carefully, tying the ends around the other’s slender arm and making sure that everything was secured nicely. “So, was it that which caused those scars on your face? That sounds horrible.”

“Ah,” Tsunagu shifted his eyes in thought, “not exactly...you see, there was an accident later on in my childhood...and...well, it did a lot of damage...” he trailed off, “not only to myself...”

A loud clap of thunder startled them both, and Shinya darted his eyes up to see Tsunagu looking down at him with a solemn face. ‘Whatever happened, that doesn’t sound good...in any context...’ he thought, choosing not to interrupt the taller man.

“It was a villain attack that burst out in the middle of the street. My family just happened to be passing by, but there was this loud scream and I turned around just in time to see that this villain had taken a young girl, about my age at the time, and was planning on taking the rest of her friends too.” Tsunagu paused again, he wasn’t sure how to word this, he never knew how to say it. But this time, it seemed a lot easier. “Before I knew it, and well this is quite typical isn’t it, I found myself in the middle of it all, unable to breathe or move. There was...blood everywhere...pieces of fabric were piercing my body, strangling me, completely littering the area. I- I remember, just, hearing my sister screaming...the pain I felt...she had to go through it all...but I couldn’t do anything, the heroes couldn’t get near me.”

Shinya sat there, stunned from this information, unable to form words. It sounded like such an awful situation to be in, even from his own point of view. He watched as the blond man shifted in his seat and turned to lean back more comfortably with a sigh, unsure of what he should say. However, he thought that it would be best to allow Tsunagu to continue.

Tsunagu felt his chest tighten at the memory of what happened, but still carrying on. It felt nice to talk to someone about it for once. “I had managed to very seriously injure my neck and face, unable to breathe, especially from the panic that I felt. I thought that was the worst part...it really wasn’t.” Tsunagu looked up cautiously at Shinya, wanting to say something but too scared to go further. Shinya saw this and placed a small hand on his shoulder, trying to think of words to say.

“I’m sorry, I can’t say much in terms of comfort. But, whatever it is, please know that I’ll listen no matter what.” He gave a small smile. Despite the fact that they hadn’t really talked before this, he already felt that he could trust him, and wanted the other to feel the same way. He’d made many mistakes in the past, and had done things that had weighed down on him all the way through his life, so knowing that Tsunagu probably had the same thoughts towards whatever it was that happened to him.

Tsunagu felt relieved. No one had ever said those words to him before, and for once he felt that he wasn’t alone. And he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t feel like crying. He nodded slowly and took a deep breath before carrying on, “...well...I- I looked up to see the villain in front of me...he wasn’t breathing, he’d been caught up in the strands that I’d sent flying and...I...he...he didn’t survive...I killed him. Just a small, scared 12 year old child, yet I’d managed to kill a man in a moment of pure terror. I- I think it was how angry I felt that someone was being that bad, I don’t know...but whatever it was, I couldn’t stop it, and the fear from that day has haunted me ever since.”

Shinya was shocked, he had a feeling that something like that must’ve happened, but it was still not something he’d been expecting or hoping to hear. Though, he’d experienced the same kind of shock himself, so he knew that it wasn’t something to be taken lightly. “I...poor child...that’s not something that someone should go through...I know from experience as well...”

“Wh- really?”

“Yeah. Those villains that ambushed my village. In a moment of blind rage I had managed to rid of them entirely, completely unaware of what I did. So, I guess, we aren’t too different, huh?”

“Wow...yeah...look at us, just a couple of very traumatised, depressed and barely capable adults, trying to make a living out of helping others...heh.” Tsunagu remarked, making Shinya chuckle in agreement, his mind easing more and more. “Y’know, I got bullied a lot, trying to become a hero. My quirk was ‘not suitable’ for it and I was ‘weak’. The more they said it the more I believed them, and well, knowing what I had done and knowing that I’d not been able to save that man who was simply going down the wrong path...I really did feel weak. Ever since, I’ve just buried myself in my work, trying to give myself a reason to feel ‘strong’, taking on as many cases as I can even if I know that I can’t do them alone...and well these moments have caused me to make some...stupid...decisions in the past, and, well they’ve all left their mark on me quite prominently.”

Shinya’s eyes softened as he heard the other man spill all of these worries that he’d been hiding for so long. “Oh...poor Hakamata-senpai...” he said with a slightly saddened look.

“Ah, it’s alright. To be honest, I don’t think I’d be where I am now without their bitter words and mean, pain-inflicting prompts. Also, please, ‘Tsunagu��� is just fine!” He normally didn’t mind the formalities, but for some reason when the small ninja sitting beside him used them, it made him feel odd.

“Oh, okay.” Shinya’s face heated up slightly at the thought of using the other’s first name to address him, he wasn’t used to that. “So, I guess we both have kinda...depressing backstories...to our scars and ourselves in general.” (You may not be able to see it but eclair is currently smiling very gleefully)

“Yeah,” Tsunagu glanced at the rain dancing down the window, “I guess so.”

————————————————————

After a long time of exchanging funny stories (well, they aren’t funny at all really, they’re either sad memories or quite self-deprecating...but I guess that’s their way of bonding...to simply share their most traumatic experiences and become friends....huh) the tension between the two of them had almost completely lifted. They sat there chatting away, all bandaged up and tired as hell, simply making the most of each other’s company.

“Oh come on, how is that not funny-” Tsunagu exclaimed, gesturing towards Shinya as he laughed. The pain in his cheek had faded, almost completely, as he slowly became more comfortable.

“Because! You try tripping over, knocking yourself out for 2 hours on the edge of a stone fountain and chipping your tooth. It isn’t a fun experience!” Shinya said enthusiastically, very defensive about the little chip in his front tooth - in response to the taller man’s question.

“Of course, sorry! Poor little Kamihara-san~” Tsunagu replied with a smile.

“Please, just call me Shinya!”

“Shinya, huh?” Tsunagu felt a little bit shy at the thought of using his first name, but it would probably be easier. “You know, now that I think about it, being in the middle of this storm isn’t so bad.”

Shinya smiled. He’d always loved this type of weather, and seeing the lanky man in front of him start to agree, he felt like he’d somehow accomplished something.

They were startled from their little conversation by a loud beeping noise coming from Shinya’s phone. When he checked it, he let out a shocked gasp and this caused Tsunagu to be slightly worried. Was it something important?

“What? What is it?”

“I can’t believe it...it’s already 1:45...we’ve talked for so long!”

Tsunagu widened his eyes in disbelief as he checked his own phone. Yep. That was the time. They’d gotten so carried away by their conversation that they’d become completely unaware of the time. They shared a very shocked look before snickering at their own carelessness. “Hah! To think that there was a time I’d never imagined this would happen.”

Shinya quickly got up from his seat, and started to make his way to the kitchen. “Sorry, I realise that it’s probably way too late for this, but I realise I never offered you food!” He called out.

“It’s okay! I forgot about it myself! But to be honest, what food could we possibly have at 1:46am?” Tsunagu inquired, slowly becoming more aware of the hunger that crept through his stomach.

“Hm...” Shinya thought before looking back up at the confused man with excited eyes, “pizza?”

“Pizza?!”

“Uh-huh!”

“Who on earth sells pizza at this time?!”

Shinya chortled at the other’s comedic remark. “Oh, you seem to be forgetting all that I told you about my very first internship...” he said slyly.

“Of course...that’s actually a brilliant idea!” Tsunagu laughed. Well...who doesn’t love getting 50% off of pizzas, even at 1:47 in the morning!

So, they ordered pizza. Just...two pro heroes, chilling out at 2:00am, eating pizza instead of sleeping off their injuries. How fun!

After even more time, the two of them decided it was best to actually get some sleep, and Tsunagu watched as the silver haired man quietly said goodnight and crept up the stairs, before setting his head down on the arm of the sofa - his legs dangling over the edge.

He listened as the wind and rain battered against the window. Normally, he’d be fed up by these noises, however that night, he found himself listening to it peacefully, and he had a thought:

‘maybe the rain isn’t so bad after all...’

[contemplativepancakes]

a rapscallious rash

2.5k of geralt being disgruntled about a mysterious rash. good thing jaskier can help. read on ao3 here:

When Geralt starts getting uncomfortable from his position on top of Roach, he assumes it’s the rain. It’s been raining for five damn days straight, but Geralt had to leave the inn he was staying at, not being able to stand the smell of fear and disgust from the patrons and owners any longer, and the woods have been too sparse to seek shelter in them. 

He shifts on the saddle, and his pants seem to impossibly get even more soaked. The rain is starting to seep into his saddle, having worn down the water proofing so much, and Geralt’s armor is completely ruined. 

It’s soaked through, but at least he hasn’t been doing so bad on coin lately. He should be able to afford replacing it. He even had enough to stop at a brothel about a week ago. The woman hadn’t even smelled like a hint of dread. Geralt hates when that happens. He’s not going to force someone to fuck him if they don’t want to, because he gets it, he sees a monster every time he looks into a mirror, but he doesn’t like wasting his coin. She was a spectacular fuck, actually. Had barely blinked at Geralt’s cock, and he knows he’s...bigger than most other men. 

Geralt had tipped her extra. 

Roach nickers unhappily, and Geralt pats her neck. He really does need to get somewhere dry, for her sake if nothing else. And for his crotch, which is starting to protest the unrelenting damp, too. 

By the time Geralt finds an inn, he looks so much like a drowned rat that he doesn’t protest when the innkeeper won’t give him a room, just says he can sleep in the stables if he wants. Geralt’s so pleased to just be out of the rain, he even thanks the man. The man looks taken aback at that, and Geralt supposes he is. He’s not exactly sure what tales of witchers they peddle around the continent, but it doesn’t seem like many of them paint him and his brothers in a positive light. 

In the mercifully dry stable, Geralt changes into some clothes that were furled into a ball at the bottom of his saddle bags and are merely damp instead of drenched. He takes a moment to look in dismay at the reddened skin around his crotch. It’s hot to the touch, and it itches. Geralt has never gotten saddle sores before, but he’s not sure what else it could be. 

Geralt loiters in the area for a few days, taking care of a nest of nekkers before he moves on. He had hoped when he didn’t seem to be in a permanent state of damp anymore, the rash would go away, but if anything, it’s only gotten worse. 

Geralt keeps travelling, keeping an eye on… down there, but it’s spread to the soft flesh of his inner thighs. Geralt’s going to have to see a mage. He’d almost rather continue to ache, but there’s no telling how long this is going to last, and he can hear Vesemir in his ear lecturing him about the value of humility.

Geralt suffers four more days in the saddle, wincing at every chafe and wondering what exactly had made him think it would be such a good idea for all his clothes to be leather, before he finds a sorceress. He explains his problem in halting words.

“You have a rash?” the sorceress confirms incredulously. “You did say you’re a witcher, right?”

Geralt nods glumly.

She stifles a laugh. “This doesn’t sound like my kind of problem, honey.”

Geralt scowls and insists, “This doesn’t happen to witchers, so it must be magic.”

“What does your medallion have to say about that?”

Geralt looks down at his chest in surprise, wondering how she knows it vibrates in the presence of magic. “Must be a malfunction,” he growls.

The woman lifts a skeptical eyebrow. “Try the healer,” she suggests before slamming the door shut in Geralt’s face.

Geralt sighs and scrubs a hand down his face. Witchers generally don’t see healers, and certainly not for anything short of life threatening. They die with a sword in their hand, or they heal by themselves, simple as that. Vesemir has sure as hell never mentioned anything like this.

Geralt asks, yes, he asks, he certainly does not demand, directions to the healer from the next person he passes. The man looks vaguely terrified as he points a shaky hand. Geralt stalks off the way the man directed, to a house at the end of the road that gives off a medicinal smell, so Geralt knows he’s in the right place.

He knocks on the door and shifts from foot to foot until finally a man wearing a lavender robe opens the door. Geralt clears his throat uncomfortably, and the man looks down at himself before tying the robe shut. “Oops,” he says cheerily. “I believe that means we’re already on a first name basis, excellent. I’m Jaskier.”

He thrusts a hand out to Geralt, and Geralt takes it warily, introducing himself. Most people don’t even like their fingers brushing his as they exchange coin, so this is...new.

It’s strange, to be certain, but not unwelcome. His hands are soft and underneath his fingernails are clean, in direct contrast to Geralt himself.

“Come in, come in!” Jaskier beckons him across the threshold, and Geralt steps through the door, looking around curiously. Herbs hang drying from the rafters, framed by an assortment of colorful jars, filled with some things Geralt knows from his elixir crafting, and others that he doesn’t recognize at all.

Jaskier takes a seat on a wooden chair and gestures for Geralt to sit down, as well. “What seems to be the problem?”

Geralt’s cheeks warm. “I’m, um.” He squirms in his chair, and Jaskier nods.

“I’m going to have to see it,” he says, looking meaningfully at Geralt’s crotch.

Geralt does not squeak. He is a fully grown man, for gods’ sake, and it’s not like no one has seen it before. Maybe not anyone who’s staring at him as intently as Jaskier is, though. Geralt’s fingers find the laces on his pants and untie them. He growls in frustration when he can’t get the knot undone with his fingers that have suddenly turned into clumsy sausages, and then there’s warm hands over his.

Geralt looks up to see Jaskier has gotten up from his chair while Geralt was struggling with the ties. He swallows hard. “Allow me,” Jaskier says, and his nimble fingers undo the knots easily.

Geralt desperately tries not to think about those fingers in other contexts.

Jaskier tugs Geralt’s breeches down, along with his small clothes, and makes a humming sound as he squints at Geralt’s cock.

Geralt tries not to take offense.

Jaskier trails the tip of his finger over the shaft. “Seems a bit inflamed,” he murmurs, as Geralt wills his cock not to twitch.

Geralt clears his throat. “Yes, I—think it is.”

Jaskier draws back and hums thoughtfully, looking at Geralt carefully. “Interesting. Did you upset any mages recently?”

Geralt huffs. “Not that I know of.”

“Well, I’m going to need a sample.”

Geralt swallows past the lump in his throat. “Of blood?” he asks hesitantly.

“That, too. I’ll leave you alone for a bit; call me back when you’re done.”

Jaskier exits the room with a swish of his robe, leaving Geralt confused and vaguely turned on. He looks at the cup Jaskier had plunked down beside him as he lets a hand drift down to his cock. He takes himself in hand, but now that Jaskier is gone, his arousal has dissipated, and the dry touch is more uncomfortable than anything else.

Geralt licks his hand and tries again, but his cock still refuses to even get a little hard. Geralt bites his lip. Now is really not the most convenient time for his performance difficulties to arise, not that any time is good. It’s just especially unwelcome when he can hear Jaskier puttering around outside the room, tapping his foot as he waits.

Geralt tries in vain for a few more minutes, but he only succeeds in making the skin around his groin even more irritated than it already was. “Jaskier?” he calls.

Quiet footsteps pad to the door, and then the knob turns and Jaskier reappears, looking at Geralt with an expectant eyebrow raised. “I’ll have to do some examinations...” he says, before he looks at the empty cup and trails off.

“I can’t,” Geralt says gruffly.

“Oh. Oh. You know, I’ve heard witchers sometimes have difficulties with blood flow.” He taps a finger on his chin. “This is all fascinating; I’m so pleased you’re here.”

Geralt grunts. “I’m happy this situation is working out for someone.”

Jaskier seems to realize how his statement sounded. “Not that I’m glad that you’ve found yourself in this predicament, of course. You witchers are just so tight lipped about your physiology, and it’s…” his words die again as he registers the bemused look on Geralt’s face. “I’ll be right back,” he says.

Geralt waits for a minute, wondering if he should put his dick away. Before he can decide, Jaskier is back and handing him a foul smelling potion. Geralt wrinkles his nose.

“Drink,” Jaskier urges him.

“What is it?”

“It’ll help you get an erection,” he says matter of factly, and the redness that has been tinging Geralt’s cheeks spreads to his ears.

“Oh.”

Geralt takes the elixir and swirls it, squinting down at the chunky parts that he can’t quite identify. It’s not the most advisable thing for a witcher to take an elixir from someone they don’t know, but there’s also no one else Geralt can go to about this. He can already feel the mortification of having to explain this situation to Vesemir, and honestly, death might be preferable, so he tips his head back and drinks the concoction.

Geralt is on his guard for any unexpected effects, but he doesn’t detect any. Doesn’t detect anything at all, actually. “It’s not working,” Geralt grumbles.

“Well, you still have to get aroused, it doesn’t just make you hard instantly,” Jaskier says in amusement, but then his voice gets huskier and it’s right in Geralt’s ear. “I can help, if you’d like.”

Geralt’s mouth goes dry as he nods. Jaskier dips his fingers into a tub of something beside him before he strokes his slick hand up and down Geralt’s shaft, thumbing at the ridges of a prominent vein.

Geralt clenches his jaw and stifles a groan. He darts a glance at Jaskier, only to find him staring right back. Geralt tilts back his head and closes his eyes, not letting himself think about anything other than Jaskier’s warm hand on his cock.

Geralt’s breathing starts to get labored a few minutes later, and Jaskier speeds his movements, twisting his hand and increasing the friction deliciously. Geralt sucks in a stuttering breath as he comes, and when he opens his eyes, Jaskier has caught it neatly in the cup. Jaskier tucks Geralt back into his pants and deftly laces them up. He stands up and wipes his hand off on his robe, looking unruffled. Geralt is sure he can’t relate, that he looks quite in a state of disarray right now.

Jaskier sets the cup on a table, and Geralt tries not to look at it as Jaskier produces a syringe. “I’ll need some blood, as well,” he says.

Geralt sighs and stretches out his arm. Jaskier pours something that smells sharply of citrus onto a rag before wiping at a small square area on Geralt’s bicep. Geralt barely feels the needle poke into his arm, and he stays relaxed as Jaskier draws the blood.

When Jaskier straightens back up, he turns around to get a bandage, but he stares as the prick on Geralt’s skin disappears. He mumbles something intelligible to himself, looking starstruck, and Geralt would roll his eyes if he wasn’t feeling so sated.

Impossibly, he thinks he’s grown fond of this silly healer.

Jaskier gathers his samples and beckons for Geralt to follow him. Geralt stands up on slightly shaky legs and trails Jaskier out of the room. Jaskier leads him deeper into the house, until they get to a room that makes Geralt falter right outside the doorway, his nose wrinkling in disgust. It smells like decay.

Jaskier turns back to look at him when he realizes Geralt hasn’t followed him over the threshold. Confusion flashes across his face for a second, before understanding dawns, and he looks at Geralt again like he’s the most interesting specimen he’s ever seen.

“It doesn’t exactly smell good to me, so I imagine it’s not very pleasant for you, either. Witchers have enhanced senses, right?”

“That’s right,” Geralt allows as he takes a hesitant step into the room and looks around.

It’s uncomfortably warm, and there’s orbs glowing different colors scattered across the room, strung above tables of laid out bowls where the stench is emanating from. Jaskier pulls out a chair and sits at a desk where there’s what looks like a small telescope.

Jaskier procures a small crystal plate from a drawer that he sets up on a stand underneath a soft white light before spreading a tiny dab of Geralt’s spend on it and adding a drop of water. He brings the tube up to his eye and fiddles with the knobs, making intrigued little hums.

When he’s finally looked his fill, he turns his gaze to Geralt. Geralt feels sympathy for the moths on the displays on the walls; he feels just as pinned. “You’re infected,” Jaskier announces.

Geralt furrows his brow. “Witchers are immune,” he protests.

“That’s what I thought, too.” Jaskier frowns. “I’ll have to do some thinking on that. But there’s definitely something in your semen that’s not sperm. I’ll have to do some tests to determine exactly what it is, and then I can start thinking about a cure.”

He starts to usher Geralt out of the room, back to the front door, chattering aimlessly all the while.

“Odds are it’s going to clear up by itself before I have a cure, but do stop by again if it hasn’t gone away in a month.”

Geralt gapes, his jaw flapping. He can’t imagine being in this discomfort for another month.

Jaskier pats his shoulder. “There, there. It’s not like I didn’t give you a hand.”

The bastard winks at him.

Geralt flushes red, and turns to go with a grunt. The day has already started to take on a hazy quality, and Geralt thinks he’ll be remembering this for a while, even if it’s not exactly what he had expected when the sorceress had directed him here.

He pulls the door open, only to see—Lambert?

“What are you doing here?”

Lambert grumbles and shoots Geralt a scowl. “Fuck off.”