#we already speak to be fair but i was nervy

[faunabel]

sometimes i do this thing where i'm like "man i love this friendly interaction but i might come on too strong if i reply Again, showing i wish to continue discussion, so i will not respond just in case i am actually unwanted as to not make a fool of myself and burden another with responding to lil ol me"

i wonder if anyone else does this...

logically its stupid bc people can simply not respond if they dont want to but oof. the more i like u, the more i worry 💔

something something i can't miss talking to u if i stop responding first

[hey-hamlet]

Prompt: Yes, that is a cat, I think. No, you probably shouldn’t touch it.

Thank you for giving me an excuse to write for the spirit sight AU! I don’t think I have before. Yes, Izuku becomes ride or die friends with Shinsou on his second day of school.

To say Izuku was afraid of his homeroom teacher wasn’t an understatement. In fact, calling the bone-deep, prickling distrust coupled with pure anxiety every time he saw him fear might have been a little too mild. His teacher wasn’t fully human. Or really at all human.

The ability to see yokai as a quirk was useful. Very useful. The problem was no one believed him. Normally he could just get around that by either dealing with the problem himself or finding another reason that street with the Nuribotoke that staggered down it at 5:47pm every night wasn’t safe. Not all yokai were bad anyway – most just kept to themselves if no one bothered them. Some types of yokai, however, were dangerous. Like the nekomatta.

Like his teacher.

Nekomatta killed people, ate them even – desecrating their corpses all the while, and they had one for a teacher? Izuku was gripped by the horrible thought that perhaps becoming a pro hero was the best option for something like that: you’d always be around the dead and those no one would miss.

Izuku pushed that to the back of his mind.

His current problem was two-fold. A boy he’d only seen in passing was petting what probably looked to him like a large black cat. It wasn’t. Its teeth were golden and needle-sharp, its fur matted and thick, two tails wrapped tightly together, flicking in pleasure as the student scratched behind his ears. Izuku felt faintly ill. The blood-red claws of his teacher – of the monster – worked at the ground, giving Izuku a horrifying look at just how long and sharp they were.

“Hey!”

The boy turned to look at him, placid surprise with an edge of distrust. Izuku took stock. The boy was likely a first-year, maybe hero course or gen ed. He obviously liked cats and didn’t seem like he’d take kindly to Izuku barging in on his cat petting time a solid half hour before school was set to start. It didn’t matter. He kept people who didn’t like him safe before so he’d do it again. He’d had practise after all.

“Yes?” The boy drawled, looking at him with a glint of suspicion. Izuku already felt a little better; now Aizawa knew there was someone else here he’d be much less likely to hurt him, especially considering Izuku was in his homeroom class.

“Sorry, but do I recognise you from the entrance exam?” He bullshitted. “I’m Midoriya! Midoriya Izuku!” The other boy straightened, no longer petting the ‘cat’. Izuku breathed a quiet sigh of relief; it didn’t matter if the other boy beat him up like his old classmates, he was at least safe now. 

“I did take the exam, yes.” The other boy sounded – he sounded bitter.

“Are you in 1B? My teacher didn’t let us go to the entrance ceremony yesterday.”

The other boy laughed, low and harsh. “1A then. Well, sorry Mr Hero course student, but I didn’t make the cut. I’m in 1C – general education.” Izuku winced. He kind of wanted the other boy to beat him up now, he wouldn’t feel so bad about it. “What did you say?” Ah.

He’d said that out loud.

“Sorry, sorry!” He stuttered, taking a few uneasy steps back. The monster had made itself scarce already so Izuku wasn’t worried. “I just – I didn’t – “ It was the other boy’s turn to wince in sympathy.

“I’m not going to hurt you – I’m not a villain.” He spat the last word like it was something he’d been called often.

“No, I didn’t think you were – I just – “

“What’s Mr. 1A got to be scared of? Little old me?”

“I didn’t mean –“ His mind disconnected. It felt like his head had been plunged underwater, all of his other senses muffled and slow. He couldn’t move, couldn’t twitch, but he wasn’t scared somehow. Distantly he realised this must have been the other boy’s quirk.

“Go on, tell me – has word gotten around that quickly? Are you and your little hero friends going to kick the shit out of me behind the school or something?”

“I don’t understand.” The words slipped from his mouth. The boy’s eye’s widened, but he still looked angry.

“Oh yeah? Why did you think I was going to beat you up, then, if I’m not a villain.”

“That’s what everyone else does.” He couldn’t stop the words, nor could he stop the tears slipping silently down his face. The boy recollided dropping his control with a bitten-off curse. Izuku staggered back a few steps, the other boy hovering nervously.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t – I thought you’d – “

Izuku hiccupped a laugh through his tears. “It’s ok, I understand. No hard feelings?” The boy blinked.

“What?”

“It’s ok, I don’t blame you – it must have looked weird to you, me coming up like that.” He couldn’t stop the tears but it wasn’t anything new. He always cried. “I would have been nervous too.” He scrubbed his eyes roughly. “Your quirk is super cool though; does it just compel people to speak or can you make them act too?”

“Shinsou.”

Izuku was so confused he stopped crying. “Huh?”

“My name is Shinsou.” He looked embarrassed, concerned and guilty all in one.

“Shinsou,” Izuku said, trying out the name in his mouth. “Could you tell me more about your quirk? It sounds amazing for hero work, what are the limits, what breaks your hold – “

Shinsou laughed. It was a shy thing but it was genuine. “Really? You forgive me just like that? Even though I mind controlled you?”

Izuku gasped. “Oh, so it’s full mind control? That’s amazing! What’s the mechanism, is it a vocal response or just at will – that’s so powerful!” Izuku frowned to himself. “You couldn’t make it in because of the robots. Could you?” Shinsou nodded, looking a little bitter. “That’s – that’s bullshit! I knew the exam was biased to physical quirks but that’s ridiculous! Our homeroom teacher couldn’t have even passed.” Izuku scowled. “That not fair.”

“Life isn’t fair,” Shinsou muttered bitterly. Izuku empathised. An idea struck him.

“That doesn’t mean we can’t make it fair.” He pulled out his phone, opening the contacts and offering it to the other boy. “I’ll teach you everything we learn in heroics. There must be a secondary way of getting into the heroics course.” Shinsou took the phone, dumbfounded.

“What – what do you get out of this?”

“You don’t deserve to be cut out because of your quirk. No one does.” He smiled sheepishly. “Plus, you might actually answer some of my questions about your quirk.” Shinsou laughed. It wasn’t as bitter as before, something almost like tears in the corner of his eyes.

“You’re a weirdo, Midoriya.” He said, handing the phone back. Izuku just grinned. “Cool, but weird.”

  From the branches of a nearby tree, Shouta watched the two students talk, tail twitching in interest. He would never admit to being proud of Midoriya for helping even the slate for a lost gen ed student. He’d been in the same place himself and the leg up from Hizashi had done wonders. Still; it didn’t explain the flash of real fear in his eyes when he first saw Shouta, nor the fact he’d come up to a complete stranger unprompted. Midoriya was skittish and nervy around even people who’d shown him nothing but kindness, let alone a prickly stranger. He should have looked like a normal cat.

Could Midoriya see him?

Shouta shook his head as if to banish the thought. He’d never heard of a human that could see his kind, not unless they will it. He was only 32 – practically a baby by spirit standards – but still. He’d have heard some something like that by now.

Right?

[looselucy]

Touch

October 31st I’d been overthinking. I had spent the past few days overthinking and I hated myself for it.

I hadn’t seen Harry since Thursday, when I’d turned up at his home and we’d slept together, in more ways than one, more than once. He’d text me on Saturday, asking me to go around, but I’d lied and said I was too busy with stuff at work. It was now Wednesday, and I was running late to our one on one class, overthinking everything like a damn idiot. I’d never had a set up like that before, sleeping with a friend. The line between a friendship and something more had never been blurred in my whole life, so it was a given I’d panic and fret over what we’d agreed on. Since I was last with him, I’d allowed myself to think of all the negatives rather than relish in the positives, like I had when I was with him. I just kept thinking of what it could do to our friendship, and how that would in turn affect our entire group of friends. It felt to me like there were risks we’d be running that could end up with Harry skipping town again, moving his life elsewhere and going back to being the boy who had acquaintances rather than friends, and I didn’t like that thought. He’d settled so well in Rosebury, he seemed happy. That meant something to me. I just felt like there was no positive conclusion to our deal. No matter what happened, how well we tried to handle things, it was bound to end it tears and I just felt it was best to avoid that completely before it got to that stage. I’d really been overthinking. It wasn’t doing anyone any good. It was almost time for the group session by the time I’d plucked up the courage to go to Harry’s gym, cursing away to myself as I scuttled up the stairs, not surprised to see his blank face staring at the door by the time I’d poked my head around to look inside. “I’m sorry.” I apologised immediately, stepping in cautiously. “Everything alright?” He asked me as I closed the door. “Everything’s fine. I’m sorry, I was just… I was feeling a bit weird, but… I dunno.” I mumbled as he approached me. “You sure?” “Yeah, um… Yeah.” “Okay, well, we don’t have time for the class I planned, but I think we could fit in a different kinda workout.” Before I could even talk, he’d grabbed my waist and pulled my body to his, kissing me again. It was so easy to get lost with him, to just run my fingers through his hair, kiss him back, forget what I’d planned to say to him, but I had to try and snap out of it. I pulled away from the kiss as quickly as I was able, talking straight away before he dove straight back in. “I’ve been thinking this is a bad idea.” I rushed. “Huh?” “Me and you. This whole… sex, thing. I think we should… I just think it’s a bad idea.” He detached himself, taking a step away from me, confusion flickering through his eyes. “Okay… Why?” “It was… really good, on Thursday. Like… really fucking good.” I was once again struggling to stick to my guns now I was with him. “But I think it could get too complicated. That’s why I’m so late, I was really overthinking everything and feeling awkward and-” “It doesn’t need to change anything.” “I know, but I’m worried it will. I think maybe we should just… leave it. Just… have that one time.” “Two, technically.” He leered. “Okay… those two times.” I giggled awkwardly. “I think it’s for the best.” “You sure?” “Um… Yes.” “You don’t sound too sure.” His smile was one that was far too knowing for my liking. “Mm. Yeah. Um… No. I’m trying to be. You make it difficult.” “I haven’t done anything.” “No, but you… look like that. It makes this very difficult.” I was failing miserably. “I can see it ending badly, and I’m so late because I was already feeling awkward, and I don’t wanna be like that! I don’t even know how to do this kinda thing-” “Happy to be your tutor.” “You’re killing me.” I groaned. “I’m sorry, I’m… putting my foot down. I think. NO, yes, I am. The foot… is down.” “Alright, fair enough. It’s up to you, obviously. Just… I just think it’s a shame, that’s all. We seemed to click so, yeah. The offers still on the table, is all I’m saying.” I nodded, stuck between this sensible side of me that told me to stop and this other side of me that wanted to kiss him, the temptation to do so almost agonising. There was something about him now, something that had changed; I was drawn to him. He was right, we had clicked, our bodies meeting like thunder crashing against waves, sending shocks of vibrant electricity dancing in every direction. I was throwing that to waste over things that might happen, imagining the worst scenario, overthinking and being negative. I hated that I was being like that. “Sorry for wasting your time today.” I tried to change the topic. “I hope you don’t wanna stop these classes?” “I don’t! I think they’re really… good for me. I’m still gunna turn up, I promise. Next week, I’ll be here on time.” “Okay, good. I’m glad.” “M’gunna go… wait out in the hall. Wait for everyone else to get here.” I suggested, knowing that would be in just a few minutes time. “Alright.” I was biting at my lip, not moving, eyes on him and mind working overtime. I snapped. His arms were open wide for by the time I’d bolted to him and thrown my body back into his, kissing him fiercely, like he fucking knew it was coming. I couldn’t help myself! It was so easy to think I could draw a line under it, but actually putting that into action was proving much more difficult. It was everything, from the look in his eyes to the way his hands felt when they were on me, so overpowering, shrinking my frame. His tongue met mine again, one hand on my arse and the other gripped at my waist, only there for a few seconds until I practically leapt back away from him. He was looking as smug as ever. “That’s it!” I lied. “That’s it now. No more. I’m done.” “Okay.” He sniggered. “I’m being serious. Believe me!” “Yep. Whatever you say. You’re the boss.” That was the second time he’d called me boss and even that was enough to make me want to throw myself on him again. I got out of there as quickly as I could, slamming the door behind me and then pacing the floor for a few minutes before I stormed down towards where the miniature restroom was. I jammed the door shut, breathless as I placed my back against it, unable to think of anything other than the kiss we’d just shared. I frantically turned in an attempt to lock the door, discovering rather quickly that it was broken. “For fuck sake.” I sulked, practically stomping my feet. “Pull yourself together, woman. Be strong. Be sensible.” I pressed against the door harder, wanting to keep myself locked inside as I rushed to bury my hand down the front of my pants, relieving myself as soon as the tips of my fingers came into contact with my clit. That was what he was doing to me. I couldn’t even believe it, I’d been so adamant before I’d walked in there that I was doing that right thing, that it would be easy. It had happened, and it was great, what would be so difficult about putting an end to things? But he was driving me wild in a way I had never experienced before. To have that kind of sexual connection with someone was new to me, and I couldn’t tell if I was loving or loathing it. I couldn’t fathom how I was feeling, how my stomach burned with this desire to be with him again, feel him, my mind wandering to all the ways our bodies could combine that I hadn’t been able to experience in those two times we’d slept together. There was more to experience and I knew it and I wanted it so fucking much it hurt. I dipped my hand lower, shocked by how wet I was, trying my best to eliminate those feelings on my own so I wouldn’t walk back in there, lock the door and fuck him on the floor of his gym with everyone waiting outside. His face was in my mind as I touched myself, recalling the way he’d felt inside me, the things he’d said, how confident he had been only minutes before, like I wasn’t stood there practically rejecting him. Everything was leading me to believe that I’d made a mistake, calling an end to our truce so soon. I thought it was best to stop my overthinking and start obeying the demands of my body. Just as I’d closed my eyes, wheezing in the feeling, the door behind me shook as though someone was trying to get in. I slammed back with all my might, stopped masturbating over the thought of him, alarmed and nervy. “Sorry!” I heard from outside. “Chloe?” I was trying not to gasp, but my lack of breath made that difficult. “Alf?” “Yeah.” “Oh my god, thank fuck, let me in! I’m literally about to piss all over the floor.” “Nice, Chloe.” “I’m not kidding, get out!” My legs were shaky and my aura awkward as I turned and opened the door, not even able to speak as she dragged me out of there and swapped our positions, soon slamming the door in my face. I was still totally dazed, hating how quickly everything seemed to be moving when Libby called my name. “Alfie, c’mon!” I turned to see her ushering me into the gym, every other woman who attended those classes happily making their way into the class. “You okay?” “I’m fine!” I practically yelled, which seemed to prove that I was in fact, not fine. “Why’re you acting weird?” “I’m not acting weird!” My voice honestly sounded bizarre. “Of course you’re not. You coming in, or what?” “Yep.” I scuttled in her direction, ignoring the way she scowled at me, head tracking me like a damn owl as I walked around her and went immediately into the room. Stumbling in there and seeing that Harry’s eyes were already on me didn’t make me feel any better. It was the way he was smirking, like what I’d just said to him didn’t matter, like he was still smug about this secret we shared, like he knew I was talking pure shit and I wouldn’t be able to stay away from him. I was beyond overwhelmed. “Thanks everyone for showing up again.” Harry spoke as we spread ourselves out around the room. “You’re keeping me employed, which I really appreciate. How is everyone?” That was when Chloe burst through the door, looking much happier than she had done a few moments earlier. “Best piss I’ve ever had in my life.” She announced, directed towards me and Libby but accidentally loud enough for everyone to hear. “Thanks for that, Chloe.” Harry sniggered. “Oh shit, sorry. And sorry for saying shit. Sorry, everyone.” She rather awkwardly took her place beside me and Libby, probably feeling even worse thanks to the gorgeous, amused look on Harry’s face that made me want to collapse. I was stood there wishing I could ask Harry to request that everyone leave, cancel the session for the week so I could have him again, and I was almost convinced that if I did put forward that ludicrous request, he’d oblige. I wasn’t sure I’d ever really had a sexual energy like that, and not making the most of it truly felt like a waste. “Alright, so today, I kinda wanted to focus in on a few moves you’d typically find in a boxing ring. It’s great exercise and you can deliver some pretty lethal blows that way. It’s also off-putting to your attacker. Even seeing that you know a stance, and proving you know what you’re doing could deter someone, so it’s really good stuff to know. Defence is the main thing here, but I wanna show you all some attacks today, if you’re all happy with that?” He received a positive mumble from the room and I found myself questioning if the way his eyes kept going back to me as he addressed the room was something everyone had noticed, or if I was just hyper aware of it now, like maybe he’d been that way beforehand and I hadn’t clocked onto it. “Sick. Alright, we’ll take it one by one. I’ve got a different move designated for each of you, and then as one person performs the move, I can explain it to the rest of you in detail. By the end of the lesson, I’ll get you all trying all of them without gloves. But first, we’ll start on the bags with gloves, and we’ll start with Alfie.” “Me?” I gasped. “Yep. You can show ‘em how it’s done.” He raised his brow. “Everyone gather at the far end of the room around the bags, Alf, c’mere.” I walked in the opposite direction to everyone else, dreading the proximity me and Harry were about to experience as he grabbed a pair of gloves for me, everyone chattering loudly between themselves as I stepped towards him, already biting my lip as though that was going to help me tame my temptations. “Gimme your hand.” He requested. “What? No!” I panicked. I hadn’t thought about the situation we were currently in, where him asking that was totally plausible; all I could think about was the fact I’d been masturbating a few minutes earlier and been forced out of the toilets so quickly I hadn’t had the chance to wash off the proof of that. His eyebrows dropped. “What?” He glared. “I’m just putting the gloves on. C’mon, gimme your hand.” He took it upon himself to grab my wrist, growing even more suspicious when I tried to yank it away, immediately making him hold harder, bring my hand closer to his face. He knew. I could tell from the fucking look in his eyes that he knew. I stared right at him, watching it all add together in his head, his eyes darting from my fingers right back to my face over and over again. “Have you- Were you just- Have you been-” “No! What? Have I what?” I tried. He smirked, looking to the far side of the room to make sure we weren’t being watched by anyone, taking another step towards me, our bodies close, his voice quiet. “Have you been touching yourself?” I felt there was no point denying it, because even if I had, it seemed he could see right through me. It was useless. I was silent for a while as I debated this, until I spoke again quietly. “H-how did you know?” I was shaking. The confirmation made him lick his lips, a spark shining in his eyes as he leaned into my ear, beginning to attach the first glove to my hand, yanking it into place. “I can smell the cum on your fingers.” He whispered. My knees went weak, forcing myself to keep my eyes off his assured face as he took a step away from me and simply continued putting the gloves on my hands like nothing had happened. I needed him.

I’d left it a while. Well, I’d left it around an hour, because I physically hadn’t been able to wait any longer than that. Only sixty fucking minutes after our class had finished, I found myself banging on Harry’s front door, somewhere between frustrated and horny as I waited for him to answer the door, and then as soon as he had, I didn’t even given him the opportunity to speak, I just let myself inside, already taking my coat off and talking with confidence and exasperation. “If we’re gunna do this then we need some rules.” I turned around, seeing the grin on his face as he slammed the door shut. I think he’d known I was going to show up. “Rules?” He questioned, smug. “This can’t ruin anything. We won’t be awkward, I will still take the one on one classes with you. Nothing changes, we’re friends above anything else.” “Deal.” He came closer to me, folding his arms and waiting for me to continue. “There’s no commitment. Whenever either of us wants this to end, for whatever reason, it ends. No arguments, no bitterness, no falling out. This goes on for as long as we want it to.” “Sounds perfect.” He was biting his lip, very slowly edging my way. “As soon as this gets too complicated, we call it. If… someone finds out, or if either of us meet someone else, or if our feelings get… too complex, it ends.” “Yep.” “And we’re both free to have sex with other people, and we can’t get annoyed. However, you cannot sleep with one of my friends. I don’t care how many times Chloe comes onto you, if you do that whilst we’re sleeping with each other, I’ll be fucking fuming. So don’t sleep with my friends.” “That’s totally fine. I don’t wanna fuck Chloe. Or any of your friends, to be honest.” “Good.” “But you have to promise me that if Sam turns back up here, you won’t start fucking him again. He doesn’t deserve you.” “Deal.” “And no overthinking anymore.” “Deal.” I groaned. “I was being stupid. I want this. I want you.” Those words made him leap towards me, grabbing at my neck and putting his lips back on mine, backing me up against the wall as he kissed me fiercely, the two of clearly very grateful for my change of mind, obvious in the moans we shared, the way I tugged at his clothes, the way his hands trailed right down my body towards my groin. I lolled my head back when I remembered another rule I wanted to impart, trying to talk but already short of breath. “We can’t let anyone know.” I sighed softly as he kissed up my neck, fingers toying with the buttons on my jeans. “The gang will flip if they find out we’re fucking.” He brought his lips up to hover over mine, my eyes flickering over his face as I once again fell victim to that smug look he pulled so perfectly. He wet his lips, his hand slipping down the front of my jeans, the rings on his fingers cold but welcomed. “This’ll be ours, baby.” He whispered. “Just ours.” “And don’t call me baby.” “Why?” He pushed his middle finger slowly into me. “I hate it, don’t do it, holy fuck.” “Yes, boss.” “You can call me boss any day.” “Yes, boss.” A second digit joined the first. His movements were harsh, my hips repetitively jolting against the wall behind me, my tongue back with his. I couldn’t imagine myself getting too worried about everything again. I’d had my moment of panic and I now knew how I really wanted the situation to go, what I wanted from him. I couldn’t disregard this thing we seemed to share, it felt almost imprudent. That sort of thing is rare, and I didn’t want to waste it. Of course there was a chance that we could lose something by doing this, there were some risks we were taking, but there was an immediate loss if we were to say no to this, and in those moments, that felt much more foolish. He slowed his actions down again, gently rubbing his thumb against my clit as he spoke. “I’m so fucking relieved you changed your mind.” He brushed the tip of my nose with his. “I promise I’ll make it worth it.” “How, exactly?” I flirted. “Get upstairs and I’ll show you.” He was so exciting. Everything about him was exciting, and I was so glad I got to lap up a little more of him than everyone else could. He took his hand back from my jeans so that I could scamper towards the stairs, in a rush to get back in his room, back to the greenery it held, back to those feelings he had imposed a few days earlier. I could hear that he was hot on my heel as I made my way upwards, glancing over my shoulder just once when I’d reached the top of the stairs, Harry already routing through the wallet in his pocket to retrieve a condom. I hadn’t even made it to his bedroom door when he grabbed at my waist and pulled me back to him, his lips landing on my neck, the two of us then waddling into his room. He soon spun me round, whipping off his t-shirt with speed before his mouth found mine again, his hands moving to the button of his jeans, working on getting them off as soon as possible. I didn’t want to stop kissing him, but I needed to get my clothes off, to get to the moment as soon as possible. Before Harry, I hadn’t realised how sex had become this bland thing where I was simply going through the motions, completely lacking that spark, that anticipation, that thrill. I’d gone so long without it that I’d forgotten it was something I could have, something within reach and with someone I was wildly attracted to. I practically ripped my clothes off my body, trying to keep one eye on Harry at all times so I could see him undress, then proceeding to rush the process of putting the condom on, the two of us tumbling down to the sheets together as soon as we were ready. I found myself clambering to get on top of him, not detaching our lips for even a second as I reached down between our bodies to hold him, positioning him perfectly so I could sink down onto him, once again biting back the slight sting of pain I experienced when he was first fully inside, but this time around it didn’t last long, just a second or so before gratification emmersed me completely, my hands running over the sheets above his head, his hands on my waist, my hips flowing back and forth, breasts pressed against his gorgeous chest. His hands slowly began to move, from my waist and down to my hips, soon snaking around and grabbing at my bum, gently encouraging the movement of my hips. “Fuck, you feel amazing.” His words whispered into my mouth. I left one last kiss on his lips before I shot my body upright, grinding back and forth, one hand getting the hair out of my face as the other reached for my breast, noticing the way he watched me, his lip trapped between his teeth, eyes dragging up and down my body. He brought one hand back around, the tips of his fingers pushing at my stomach as he took his thumb to my clit, immediately inspiring moans from me as I threw my head back, welcoming the feeling, welcoming every touch he wanted to give. There was a part of me that really wanted to hold out, bite back my orgasm, but I couldn’t! It was so quick and so sudden but then at the same time, it wasn’t. I’d been totally pent up since my encounter with myself in the bathroom down the hall from his gym, so it also felt overdue, if anything. He’d been building up this feeling in me for hours and he knew it. He knew what he’d done to me and he knew what I’d done to myself and it took mere seconds of contact before the proof of that released from my body. How little effort it had taken brought a grin to Harry’s lips, but didn’t stop his actions, still circling his thumb across my nub, being much more gentle to start with, allowing me time to heal. I moved again, curving my back so I was leaning backwards, balancing my hands on the mattress either side of his shins, the tips of my hair likely tickling his skin. “That’s it. Fuck, that’s it.” He huffed. He began thrusting upwards, one hand now clamped on my hip whilst the other still worked me, each stab upwards causing whimpers from both of us that were broken and beautiful. There was a while where it was like my mind went totally blank, my sesnses and the feelings he caused so consuming that it conquered all ability to conjure thoughts. It was a fascinating sensation, barely even aware of our surroundings, it was all him and the way he made me feel. I loved how much power he had. No lack of conscious thought could cover the way he moved, the strength he had, his energy rushing into me and making me feel just as powerful. Every move, every jolt of his pelvis, every single action, from the seemingly small to the achingly obvious. I was obsessed. There was no way I’d be turning my back on our arrangement again any time soon. Both of his hands returned to my waist when he shot upright, budging us towards the edge of the bed so his legs were off the side and his feet on the floor. He was kissing my chest and my neck, my fingers running through his hair as I moved to wrap my legs around him, holding him close. What I’d noticed about Harry was that he was quite passionate in what he did. There wasn’t a part of him that was disinterested or casual when it came to fucking; everything down to the journey his hands made to the way he kissed was so intimate, messianic, vivacious and vital to how it felt to be with him. He made me feel like I was the only person in the world, it was oddly magnificent. He took my hair in his hands to control where my head was, forcing our lips back together. “M'gunna cum.” He told me, his eyebrows digging towards each other. I tickled the tips of my fingers at the back of his neck lightly, swerving on top of him one last time, brushing his bottom lip with my tongue, and that was it. Quivering and curseing, he came, his face predictably going back to that grumpy look I was starting to almost admire. I giggled a little, which forced him to open one eye as his face began to return to normal. “Why’re you laughing?” He smiled. “That’s not a good sign.” “It’s the angry face. I think it’s gunna happen every time.” I unwrapped my legs, remaining on top. “Did I do it again?” “This is three times now. I think that’s enough. I think that’s your cum face.” “It’s definitely looking that way, innit?” “Yep. It’s great, I’m a big fan.” “Thanks.” He snickered, shaking his head and then placing one lovely, lone kiss against my lips before he caved, dropping backwards, catching his breath. I admired him for a short while, smiling at his exhaustion, but swiftly I got off him, stumbling off him so my feet were back on his wooden floors, then reaching to take the condom off on his behalf. “Ah shit, fuck, I’m sensitive, fuck.” He groaned. “You can’t just go touching my dick with no warning, Alf. You’ll be the fucking death of me, I swear.” I touched him again, laughing at the way he recoiled before I practically skipped off towards his bathroom to dispose of the condom and clean myself up a little. I was surprised by just how comfortable I felt in his house. Only a week earlier, I didn’t think I’d ever even get to see his home, never mind be skipping down his hallway completely nude, feeling happy and at ease. I was glad he made me feel that way, that his space made me feel that way, because that felt important for what we were doing, that everything from the way it felt to be with him to where we chose to do it, was comfortable for the two of us. I figured there was just something about Harry and the way he’d been with me ever since he arrived in Rosebury. He helped me to be so at ease. I was back in his bedroom again a few minutes later, throwing some loose toilet-roll at him. “Thank you.” He managed to sit upright, wiping himself clean. I flopped back down on the bed, making myself comfortable, Harry leaning back on his elbows, still catching his breath. “That was good. We’re good.” I spoke towards the ceiling. “You’re not gunna go changing your mind again, are ya?” “No. This is too good to pass up. I like this arrangement. A lot.” “Good. Me too.” He came over to me, bringing his body to float over mine, licking his lips as though he was already tempted for another round. “What?” I grinned. “It’s… this whole thing, with Chloe fancying me, or whatever.” “Fancying you. Wow, I didn’t realise we were still in primary school.” I joked. “She fancies ya. She wants to snog ya.” “Shut up.” He laughed, kissing me again to make sure I couldn’t poke fun at him anymore. “I just wanna make sure that it’s not gunna be an issue. Like… if she found out, she wouldn’t be annoyed or anything.” “Well, one, she’s not gunna find out, because we’re not gunna let her. And two, if she did… I doubt it. She’d probably have a moment of feeling bitterly jealous, but that’d be it. She’d make a joke and move on, I know what she’s like. It’s attraction thing, it’s not like she’s in love with you or anything. Get over yourself, Harry. Jeez.” “You’re a little shit.” He was kissing me again within seconds, his smile still detectable against my lips, his hands making their way down my body once again. Then I remembered what day it was, and our weekly routine. “Oh shit, no, stop!” He jerked his head back, alarmed by my tone. “What time is it?” “Uh, I dunno.” I scrambled from beneath him down to my pile of clothes on the floor, routing for my phone and soon seeing that we were late. “Shit, we’re supposed to be at the pub.” I got off the bed, immediately beginning to dress myself. He shuffled back to the edge of my bed, placing his hands on my bare hips and attempting to drag me back down to his bed. “I vote we give it a miss this week. Stay here…” He pulled me back onto his lap, kissing my neck, his hands crawling underneath the t-shirt I’d had just enough time to put on, feeling signs that he was already on his way to being hard again. “Fuck, I want to. I really fucking want to, but I can’t.” I sighed, cracking my neck so he could keep kissing me tenderly. “I’ve been acting so weird recently, what with hiding our classes and now… hiding this. I really don’t want anyone to get suspicious.” “A quickie… then we’ll go.” I let loose, relaxing and accepting that it was going to happen, Harry feeling the change of my aura, which then inspired him to grab my waist and practically throw me back down onto his bed. I was fast learning that Harry Styles was difficult to say no to.

[gerbiloftriumph]

Captive Crown

(also on ao3)

Someone wanted the newly crowned King of Daventry and all his friends dead. Someone got close, once.

(warnings for the whole thing: kidnapping, bruising, starvation, nightmares, healthy dosage of angsty musing, sicfic, story-coherent vehicle for all my favorite ch2 headcanons)

~*~*~

4/7

(1: to steal)(2: to hide)(3: to seek)(4: to find)(5: to break)(6: to mend)(7: to heal, and to end)

~*~*~

It started with a dry cough early in the morning. Hardly more than a tickle. Graham sipped water from the rose fountains and cleared his throat, but it wouldn’t stop. It wouldn’t normally raise much thought, but he was sneaking around in places he wasn’t supposed to be sneaking. He held his cloak against his mouth to try and stifle the sounds while he was deep in the back tunnels, not sure who might be listening. Annoying, but manageable.

He scrambled through pipeworks and scraped through narrow gaps, hunting for anything that could help them escape. And he found bolt cutters. Half sunken in moldering porridge oozing from a broken pipe, but…bolt cutters. It was almost too perfect. He paused before fishing them out. This didn’t feel like a trap. It felt like a trap that had already been sprung.

He was being paranoid. He was being silly. But, as Graham looked at the broken pipe, at the bolt cutters, at the chair someone short had clearly stood on to reach the pipe’s suspension chains, something prickled the hair on the back of his neck.

Someone had intentionally stopped the food. To starve him and his friends. Kill him. That someone hadn’t expected the goblins to get bored and let Graham out, or else they would have taken this tool, this key to freedom, with them. They were careless in their certainty of victory.

And, with a sick twist in his empty stomach, Graham’s suspicions became just a little clearer.  

Distracted, he didn’t notice his cough becoming more frequent as he stumbled back into familiar prison paths with the bolt cutters hidden in the folds of his cloak. Didn’t notice the cough starting to sound wet as he freed Bramble and Wente. Didn’t notice the ache cutting into his throat as he and Bramble stumbled out into the city to find help, alarm bells chasing them down the tunnels.

But now he sank against the wall of some goblin house in some hidden side street, trying to breathe as another coughing attack consumed him. It could no longer be ignored. Something was wrong with him, and it was getting worse.

Bramble glanced at him. “Majesty, that really doesn’t sound good. We should stop and rest.”

“No, no,” he said, waving a hand, staring fixedly at the uneven stones beneath his boots rather than at her, sure she would see guilt on his face if he looked up, his fear that they were going to be caught because his coughing was too loud, unstoppable. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.” His voice was tight against yet another outbreak. “It’ll clear. We’ll get hot tea. Once we’re home.”

“Some soup wouldn’t go amiss right now either.” Bramble pressed a hand to her belly.

He nodded blearily. His knees sort of gave out a little bit, and then a little bit more, and then a little bit more again. He sank down the wall slowly, cloak bunching around his ears, until he was almost sitting on the ground.

Bramble leaned against the wall above him and said cheerfully, “That’s it, that’s what we needed. You breathe easy for a minute, Majesty.”

“N-no, wait, I said we didn’t need to stop.” He started to struggle up.

She pressed on his shoulder. “I think the rest of you ignored that. May as well listen to the majority.” She frowned into the darkness. “The majority of me wants Wente, but I know he’s helping the others as best he can, the dear.”

“Bramble, I—”

“No, you stay put,” she said, pushing down harder. “I might be your subject, speaking technically, but I’m still older than you, and a Mother-To-Be, and that has to count for something. I can at least make orders when I can see matters of health and heart, and both are telling us to pause. We won’t be long.” She sighed and closed her eyes, smile a touch strained when she thought he couldn’t see.

Graham wrapped his arms around his knees and listened to the city. To the low murmurs and clatters of stone against stone. The clank of metal. The steady, faraway wash of the underground river splashing against the weird little underground dock where the mattress raft had been tethered. How many days ago had that been? No way to be sure, not yet.

Little glowing dust motes danced between the buildings. A kaleidoscope of colored fungi illuminated street corners and windows. He searched the skyline (caveline?), hunting for a glimpse of that tall structure he’d seen from the prison tower. Their destination.

They had to get to the goblin castle. They had to see the goblin king. That was the only way they could get all the villagers out safely, could make it back to the surface without pursuit or loss. He had to convince the king to free them, but how? Going in swords blazing wouldn’t be the right move, even if he had a sword or the strength to swing it. It would have to be words.

Yeah, right. Like that could ever work.

This wasn’t the first time they’d ducked into some forgotten side alley. They often hid behind buildings and stairs and in shallow dark spaces while they waited out goblins. The little stone-shielded citizens of this place tended to amble carelessly, meandering along the roads in packs. Some of them wore ragged fairy tale costumes. Tattered wolf ear headbands, or scraps of elaborate princess dresses, with battered wooden weapons more suited for make believe than actual combat strapped to their sides. But then again, the real, sharp spears were just as abundant.

Bramble had saved them half a dozen times by now. She somehow sensed goblins half a street over, well before Graham ever noticed. When he asked how she heard them from so far away, she told him that the sounds of their masks scratching against their armor sounded almost like that singing crackle bread gets when it starts to cool down after the oven. “It’s easy to hear since it’s one of my favorite sounds,” she had said. “Or it was a favorite sound. Now I rather like hearing Wente singing when he’s mixing something good.” She smiled shyly, ears going pink beneath her cap.

Now, Graham looked up at her. “Bramble?”

“If you’re about to tell me you’re sorry you dragged me here instead of Amaya again, I’m going to be very cross.”

“No, I, uh. Wanted to thank you. For being here. I couldn’t have gotten this far without you.”

“Don’t make me blush again, either.” She grinned, and he could see the determination in her shoulders, in her eyes. She wasn’t in great shape after the imprisonment, but she was still carrying herself in an undeniably Bramble sort of way. A mother (To-Be) scorned and ready to take someone to task with stern words and an open heart. Even after all this, she still didn’t seem to bear hatred in her, though it would have been well within her rights.

Maybe that’s what these story-loving goblins needed? Maybe some compassionate, determined angle with the goblin king was the best route to freedom. Maybe words could win. He would have laughed at the ideas starting to build up in his head, but it burbled into another cough instead.

He swallowed again, cursing that cough and praying that his gradually creeping dizziness was just the result of stress.

~*~*~

As it happened, it worked. He never would have believed it, and yet, it worked.

Words won the day. Compassionate words, hidden in the phrasing of a story. A story that Graham found he knew how to tell very well—a story about himself, and his fears and uncertainties, and the friends he made, and the support he needed. The goblin king bowed to him and his story, ever so slightly, and that—somehow, in this dark place ruled by fantasies—was enough.

~*~*~

The adrenaline of facing the goblin king sparked through Graham’s spine and made him stand straight again, but once the king had agreed to let all of the Daventry citizens go, Graham felt all the excitement ebbing out of him to be replaced with a strange ache that he was sure hadn’t been there before. From his shoulders to his back to his legs, he felt dizzy and distant.

To be fair, by his count he’d been shaken down for contraband at least six times by now. The ache in his legs wasn’t exactly surprising, considering the goblins’ method of shakedown was to literally turn him upside down while gripping his legs, and, well, shake.

“What should we do?” everyone asked. Graham answered as best he could, but his mouth was running on its own, with very little input from him. His hands trembled; he grabbed the hem of his cloak so no one would notice. Just another side effect of stress. Nothing to be concerned about.

He stood listening to them all argue about routes and directions and glare at their reticent goblin guides, and all the while he thought, “Huh. My hair hurts. That’s new.”

Finally, impatiently, the Merchant stepped forward. He was easily in the best shape of them all, and overjoyed to have a freed caravan and two unicorns back (The Other One had been captured, too, though no one had shown much interest in the poor thing and had let it wander uselessly). He barked commands and directed their steps and threw his generous gut around. Graham was more than content to let him at it, following at a lagging pace until they broke out of the tighter tunnels and were able to climb aboard the rattling wagon. They crammed into narrow spaces between empty boxes and expired and crumbling miraculous ingredients. Exhausted but too nervy to doze in case their guides turned back into jailers, the group anxiously watched rocks roll past for an eternity until they broke into the overcast, rainy, late afternoon of Daventry. The first breath of fresh, free air came with a gentle sigh of relief.

*~*~*

The shout came from across the river, and the merchant slowed the cart ever so slightly from its careening gallop to listen. The cry was thus: “Ho there! Good wandering merchant!”

“What did you just call me?”

Whoever it was across the river hesitated for a long moment. “Good...merchant?”

“Oh. Yeah, that’s better.” The merchant leaned back and punched Graham in the shoulder. “’Ho there’—ha, what kinda medieval establishment you runnin’ here?”

Graham had his hands pressed over his mouth, but not from coughing this time. After a second he breathlessly managed to mumble, “Did you have to take that turn like that?” His adventurer’s cap, found in the tunnels near the goblin castle, had slipped down over one eye, and he looked positively green.

“Oh, so sorry. I’d think that pregnant lady’d be the one with morning sickness, not a strappin’ young lad like yourself, but hey, whatever. Also, what do you expect when I’ve got a soggy lump of bread for a wheel and one sick goa—uh, unicorn—and no thanks to you. It ain’t no flyin’ carpet ride: you gotta anticipate a bounce or two.” He turned back to face the river, and shouted, “Whaddya want?”

“Have you seen our king anywhere? Or...er...anyone, I guess?”

Graham shuddered, swallowed, and drew a deep breath to answer the guard, but the merchant had a thoughtful look on his face. Before Graham could speak, the merchant leaned back and whispered, “Hey, your magistrate. Scaly lumps of eel guts fried in peanut oil and pickle juice.” Graham blinked, then clapped his hands back over his mouth, making horrible strangled noises. “Hey! You over there!” the merchant shouted, while Graham retched. “There’s a finder’s fee for getting your king and his merry band of villagers back to you, right?”

“A what now? Er. I mean. We don’t really have...yes, yes of course! Did you have an amount in mind? Do you accept frogs as payment? Maybe installments over the course of…er…several years?”

“Oh, shining stars,” Graham groaned through his fingers and pulled himself to his feet. “We’re all here! Here!” His voice cracked and couldn’t carry far. He waved, but he lost his balance and fell back among the boxes.

“King Graham? Is that you?” the guard craned his neck. “Gods, is it really you? Where have you been? We wrote your mother. Have you seen the others? We’ve been so worried. Poor Olfie’s been wandering for days looking! Even Acorn offered to go out. Why aren’t you saying anything? Are you okay? I hope I’m not overwhelming you again. I’m sorry. I am, aren’t I? Maybe we should write an addendum about this or something. I’m glad you’re back. That was you, wasn’t it? I’m pretty sure it was you. Hard to see in this rain. The water gets in the helmet dreadfully.”

The merchant sighed and glanced at Graham. “Well. I’m still gonna ask if I can get a small finder’s fee. Think of all the merch that went to waste. All the missed business opportunities! I deserve a little recompense, eh?” He paused. Graham frowned, clearly about to argue, and the merchant added cheerfully, “Leftover shrimp twice baked in orange yogurt sauce drizzled with chocolate.”

[badacts]

order

a pro-era companion fic to corvus, vulpes, lupus for @thepalmtoptiger, featuring the ny rebels

They’re having drinks at the local bar after practice when everyone’s phone beeps with a message at the same time.

“It’s Jamie,” Shearer says, first to wrestle his out of his pocket. “Meeting tomorrow before morning practice. God, as if we don’t have to be there early enough.”

“It’ll be a new signing,” Pierce says. His raccoon daemon is shelling and eating peanuts off of the table with her little dextrous hands, and it’s mesmerising to watch. “I bet you.”

Anita scoffs. “That’s not even a challenge, of course it’ll be about a signing. We should be betting on who it actually is.”

“Jeremy Knox,” Shearer says immediately.

“He just got signed to New Orleans, you groupie,” Cooper says. “Don’t you people read the news?”

To be fair, she has insider knowledge – she was Jeremy’s captain at USC and handed over the reins to him when she graduated, and she’s kept in touch since. Jeremy would love to be in New York, but the Rebels don’t need a backliner and he won’t go anywhere without Moreau. Give it another year, maybe.

“It’ll be an offensive player, right? Seeing as Soo is out for the season,” Anita muses. “What strikers do we know are looking to move?”

“Unless we know them personally, I don’t know we’re going to know that,” Pierce points out.

“Just pick the ones having the worst season,” Cooper says, earning a laugh from around the table. “Whitehall will be looking for a new team after the last few weeks. The Senators are bombing.”

“Piper Jackson from Washington? I heard a rumour she might be looking to move,” Anita offers.

“Fuck, I hope so,” Shearer says. “Ten bucks that it’s Brockmann though.”

They all groan. The striker for the Eagles is a great player, but he’s also a complete dickhead. The Rebels already have enough asshole personalities on their offensive line without adding another.

“Well, I’m saying Piper,” Cooper suggests. “Dreams are free, right?”

“Yeah, but bets aren’t,” Orion mutters from her lap. She strokes his wiry-coated back.

“I’ll put my ten on Carmody from the Jackdaws,” Anita says, her smile turning smug when the rest of them boo because they didn’t think of Carmody first. The guy’s wife and kids are in New York and he’s in Florida – it makes perfect sense.

“Damn it, girl,” Pierce says. “I’ll go for Whitehall, then. I can’t think of anyone else.”

“I hope you’re right, for his sake,” Cooper jokes, taking another sip of her beer.

“It’s Neil Josten,” Minyard says. It’s the first thing he’s said all night since he ordered a whiskey rocks at the bar. If it were in any way possible to forget he was there – not to mention his enormous hyena daemon, who is lying under Minyard’s chair – Cooper would have done so.

“No way,” Pierce says. “His team is finals material. There’s no way he’ll be planning on leaving after a year.”

“You used to play with him,” Shearer says. He’s a couple of glasses of wine in, and his lizard daemon has slumped over his shoulder absorbing his body heat. “He has a fox daemon, right? That must have been weird. I mean, your team was called the Foxes.”

“It’s super on-theme, you can give him that,” Anita says. “Is that your bet, Andrew?”

Minyard raises his glass to her in a salute. From the under the table there’s a chuff like laughter. Cooper draws her feet up in surprise – she’s not nervy by nature, but she’s seen her teeth. She bets the others do the same.

“Guess we’ll find out tomorrow,” she says to cover it. She doubts it works.

Of course, it’s Neil Josten.

“You had insider knowledge, didn’t you,” Cooper hisses at Minyard out of the corner of her mouth. “That’s cheating.”

He looks at her blandly. “I told you who it was.”

He doesn’t bother to lower his voice, which means that everyone turns to look at him. This includes Neil Josten, who is standing at the front of the room with his very beautiful silver fox daemon across his shoulders like a stole, and with the general manager and Jamie, their head coach beside him. Jamie frowns his be professional face at Cooper, but Josten smiles a little bit when he sees who has spoken.

Cooper obligingly shuts up, because those people are in charge of her job. She instead surveys their newest player, as of the beginning of next season. Josten is short and slim, but Cooper has seen video of him playing – she knows that he’s fast. She also knows that he’s trained under Kevin Day, and that in his first season after graduating from college he’s help to take his middling-ranked team to the top of the table in the north-western conference.

He doesn’t look like much. Looks can be deceiving, though.

“Josten’s going to join us for practice today,” Jamie tacks on at the end, gruffer than their general manager. “Coop, make sure he knows where he’s going.”

Cooper is in charge of wrangling the rookies, because she’s good at it – patient, but not too patient, and good-humoured. Their captain Castle is very good at what he does, but he’s no good with the newbies – that’s why she’s chief babysitter, and also why she’s vice-captain. She waves to acknowledge the direction and to show Josten who Jamie means, and gets another small smile in response.

“Unless you want to?” she asks Minyard, as the quiet breaks and Josten starts to make his way across the room to them through the milling Rebels. “You guys are friends, right?”

Minyard stares at her. “No.”

“I’m going to take that as a no to my first question, not my second,” she says, nonplussed, right before Josten arrives at their side.

His daemon jumps from his shoulder to the floor and bounds forwards to greet Minyard’s, so they touch noses. The fox’s tail is wagging, and her mouth is open in a grin.

“Hey,” Josten says directly to Minyard.

“Hello, Neil,” Minyard replies. It’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking. Cooper isn’t good enough at deciphering him yet - she’s only vaguely sure he doesn’t hate her.

“Hi,” Cooper says, because she’ll be waiting all day if she waits for Minyard to introduce her. “I’m Kristen Cooper.”

“I know. I watched you in your game against the Titans last week. That save in the last five against O’Sullivan was great,” Josten says. He sounds exactly like he does in interviews – the ones where he doesn’t start riots, that is. Smooth and professional, serious but with a touch of a smile.

“Thanks,” she replies. “Come on, I’ll show you around a little and then leave you to the tender care of Minyard here in the changing rooms.”

“Tender care,” says an unfamiliar voice. “Have they met you?”

It takes Cooper a moment to realise that it’s Josten’s daemon speaking. She blinks. Not only is she loud enough for Cooper to clearly hear, but she seems to be talking directly to Minyard.

“This is Sin,” Josten tells Cooper, a little bit rueful. “Excuse her.”

Sin seems to ignore that. Cooper has never seen another daemon like her. She can just about taste Orion’s uncertainty where he’s sitting on his haunches by her feet, his ears pricked.

“Bet he can score on Andrew today,” she says, quieter but still audible, this time only to Minyard’s daemon. The hyena huffs in response.

“Come see the court,” Cooper says, because there’s not really much else to say.

Josten joins the Rebels during pre-season practice, looking less ruffled than anyone who has just upended his life to move to the other side of the country has a right to. Cooper has been in New York for several years, and she hasn’t forgotten the fortnight-long panic of moving from LA yet.

He’s – he’s good. Good enough to make Minyard push himself, and that is interesting to watch. He’s also stubborn enough that he knocked Wilson – the Rebel’s most annoying striker – onto his ass when he said something that Josten won’t relay.

“He’s as crazy as his daemon,” Orion says when they’re back in the apartment, Cooper flopped face down on the couch. He jumps onto her lower back and curls up there, like a little fox terrier hot water bottle. She sighs.

“Point conceded,” she agrees after a moment. “Hey, do you reckon he and Minyard are actually friends? I can’t tell if it’s just a familiarity thing or not.”

“Amaranth talks to Sin,” Orion replies. “She doesn’t really do that with the rest of us.”

“Amaranth. I didn’t realise that was her name. She talks to you, right?”

“Yes,” Orion says, patiently. They’ve had this conversation before, back when Cooper was wondering whether Andrew hated her.

“I swear Josten was talking to her the other day. Amaranth, I mean.”

“Probably. They do that.”

“What, really? Like, a lot? You didn’t say.” Cooper had thought she’d been witnessing some kind of one-off event.

“You didn’t ask,” he points out, because he’s kind of an ass sometimes.

“Maybe Sin has desensitised him to talking to other daemons. She talks to everyone.”

“Or maybe they’re friends.”

“Hm,” Cooper says, non-committal. “Maybe.”

“Andrew says you’re the person to talk to about drills.” Josten plunks his drink – it’s soda – down on the table, and then sits. Sin springs up onto the table top, investigating the sticky patches on it with her whiskery muzzle. Orion watches her do it, ears pricked.

“Did he say that? Wow, I think I just got the warm fuzzies,” she replies.

Josten looks at her strangely, and then says, “I have some ideas for drills to add to the repertoire for the strikers. For aim, mostly.”

Cooper sits back in her seat. “I could ask what’s wrong with our current drill sets, but you know it’s a Saturday night, right? We can talk about this on Monday.”

“Now you sound like Andrew,” Josten says. He looks a little bit dismayed.

“Smart man,” Cooper says. “Go. Get drunk. Pretend to be a normal twenty-something for a little bit.”

“I don’t drink.”

“Of course you don’t. Let me guess, you drink juice that’s green, too.”

Josten makes a face. “No. I don’t see the point. Juices are mostly sugar, and even with kale-”

“Neil has an issue with sugar,” Minyard says. Cooper jumps, jostling Orion on her lap and making him yelp – Minyard just appeared from nowhere.

Josten turns to look at him, some amusement on his face. “Should I tell her-”

“Be quiet,” Minyard replies. Amaranth is standing at his side, and Sin jumps down to her, skirting close to Minyard’s feet as she does so. She’s in easy reach, but she doesn’t look even vaguely frightened to be so close to him.

“I should have just said that,” Cooper tells Josten. She turns to Minyard. “Hey, take him away. I’m not talking shop, it’s the weekend.”

Minyard looks at Josten and jerks his head in the direction of the bar. Josten slides straight out of his seat, leaving his completely full soda on the table like he’s forgotten all about it. Cooper doesn’t have the heart to point that out as she watches him follow Minyard and their daemons across the floor.

“They’re definitely friends,” she whispers to Orion. He hums back.

Josten has a bad track record for injuries, so it’s not surprising someone tries to break his face open in his first game for the Rebels.

His track record still isn’t as bad as his attitude, though – that’s the only reason Cooper can imagine explaining why he goes after the backliner who is twice his size after they already made him bleed. Attitude, and adrenaline.

The fight basically embroils the whole team other than the goalies. Cooper is the one who ends up with Josten, the back of his jersey held fast in her hand. He’s a livewire in her grip, practically steaming with exertion. He’s also dripping blood on the floor.

“Pinch your nose,” she tells him as she carts him across the court to the door. He got a yellow card, but he’s going off for blood if she has to physically carry him to the medical room.

“I’m fine,” he replies. His nose is stuffed up and he still sounds angry.

“Excuse me, I’m your vice-captain. Do it, you little shit,” she says.

Unexpectedly, he laughs. “Are you allowed to call me that?”

“Josten, you were schooled by Dan Wilds. I’ve met her, I know it’s not the first time you’ve been called that,” she replies. They’re at the door, which is being held open. “Yo, Minyard. Take him to the doc.”

Wilson jogs past to take the empty striker position as Cooper shoves Josten through. He seems to stumble on the threshold, wavering as he lifts a hand to his face.

Sin, who is at his feet, says, “Neil. Neil!” Minyard steps forward to balance him at the same time as Cooper. Neither of them are as fast as Amaranth.

She’s massive, especially next to Josten’s diminutive height. He puts a hand on her broad back, fingers curling into her coat, and somehow doesn’t fall over.

They all end up crushed in the doorway together. Cooper feels vaguely panicked – they shouldn’t be doing that – but she swallows it in the face of the fact that the rest of them seem completely unbothered.

“I’m alright,” Josten says, dazedly.

“Shut up,” Minyard replies, taking Josten’s hand off of Amaranth’s back and hooking it over his own shoulders. “Cooper, get back on the court.”

“Five years,” Neil says. They’re using first names now, because this is Andrew and Neil’s apartment. Their shared apartment. “Five years?”

Andrew stares back at him and doesn’t reply. Neil seems to take this as confirmation. He continues rubbing the underside of Amaranth’s chin, slow and easy.

“Five years,” Sin agrees, stalking across the back of the couch behind Neil and Amaranth. She jumps across to the desk where Andrew is perched, sticking her head out of the window where he’s hanging his hand and cigarette out in the night air. Her tail brushes against him thoughtlessly.

Cooper has Orion cuddled safely in her lap, and she’s rubbing the sows-ear softness of his belly. She can’t imagine having someone close enough to be like that with. Somehow, she wants it anyway. She says, “That’s surreal.”

“Really?” Neil asks. He grins. It’s very sharp.

“Not really,” she admits.

[hey-hamlet]

BNHA AU Ideas : The Bitter Three

also on AO3!

TL;DR: Three people without the Heroic quirks Japan demands, determined to help people that never helped them. --- Midoriya, Shinsou and Monoma are good friends. This changes everything.

Basically, Midoriya, Shinso and Monoma make friends in middle school and bond over their lack of heroic quirks and their fight to become heroes anyway.

they are also all petty bitter little bitches

monoma gets in to the hero course, but only just, and turns it down because hes not leaving izuku and shinsou to rot alone in gen ed. they make it together or not at all.

Izuku and Hitoshi take the entrance exam and feel their hearts sink when they see the robots.

Hitoshi gets 5 points. Izuku gets 20, 18 of which are rescue points. Their low scores hurt more than 0s, and getting into UA feels like a slap in the face.

Izuku is top 5 on the written exam, Hitoshi in the top 40. Izuku sends in supplementally analysis pages with his application because hes knows hes going to get marked down for being quirkless and he needs something special to help him stand out.

Anyway, they kick absolute a s s in the sports festival

and end up in first, second and third. the hero kids are,,, kinda pissed honestly

monoma is more valid in this au! but izuku is a little less valid? idk they are all bitter bitches

hero society sucks dick

but like,,, bitter monoma helping izuku build self confidence and izuku helping monoma stop being a such a dick

Sludge villain doesn’t quite happen. Allmight finds the villains trying to shove itself into a stray cat, its messy and a little heartbreaking. He deals with the villain, puts it in a bottle then de-powers to try to bury the poor thing because it really didn’t deserve this.

That’s when izuku comes by, he cries when the scary skinny guy explains what happened to the cat

"the poor thing got caught between a vilain and a hero."

"that,,, that’s not fair!"

"I know kid. Its not"

Izuku starts digging a little grave for the cat with his hands, placing some flowers over it and saying a quick prayer.

Yagi is talking to him (hes already given OFA to mirio, on speaking terms with nighteye again) and finds out izuku wants to be a hero. This soft hearted kid that cried for a stray cat and made his hands bleed to dig it a grave.

Yagi tells him he used to be a pro and would love to help him get into UA.

So in this au Yagi helps izuku train for the entrance exam! But without the massive focus of muscle building to hold OFA. He gets izuku to clean up the beach to build some muscle, but they run through different fighting styles, practise analysis and yagi supervises sparring between shinso, monoma and izuku.

He tells them about the gen ed “loop hole” to get into heroics and warns them about how bias the entrance exam is. There is no harm in taking it to put your face in front of the heroics teachers, but its almost impossible to pass without a destructive quirk.

So, the sports festival:

izuku wins the footrace same way as in canon, monoma is somewhere in the top 10 and hitoshi is in the bottom third

only the 3 of them make a team for the cavalry battle, monoma is the rider and izuku and hitoshi are the horses. they dont want to give away hitoshi's quirk if they can help it so they dont use it much. they come 3rd overall.

Izuku is really strong from all the heavy lifting at the beach so honestly its mostly just him hauling monoma around and hitoshi sprinting after him.

and then the tournament

they see the names come up and izuku starts to cry and the other two panic because why?? But they look at him and see hes grinning through his tears

"someone was looking out for us. we are going to c r u s h this"

hitoshi's first match is vs bakugo.

he wins because bakugo has no chance to work out his quirk

monoma is against todoroki.

he takes out his ice with a whirlwind of fire and lets him slip out of the ring on a patch of ice

izuku is vs momo.

he uses her creations against her and she losing in a hand to hand brawl

hitoshi takes out kirishima next.

another round without a punch thrown, he gets him by insulting Bakugo

monoma gets rid of shinozaki with his last few seconds todoroki's quirk

izuku trips iida over the boundary

in the semi finals izuku takes out uraraka by flipping her out of bounds. it was close and he only just made it, izuku and uraraka’s match was b r u t a l. the main reason he won is the he noticed the rock shower and pulled Uraraka under it with him. She didn’t have enough time to react and got struck on the head with some pieces of rubble which dazed her pretty badly.

monoma and shinsou joke durring their fight that they are fighting for the chance to get their ass kicked by izuku

shinsou wins

izuku wins over all, shinso comes second. midoriya has better fighting form to him and knows his quirk inside out

for the first time in UA’s history, the top 3 places on the podium are all gen ed students.

aizawa is god damned proud of these kids hes never met

yagi is crying a little because he was treated terribly for being quirkless and he heard what kids did to izuku and hes just so proud this nervy little kid was brave enough and strong enough to kick ass on live TV for all of japan to watch.

“Do us quirkless boys proud, kid.”

A little on their family lives

Shinso

foster kid with a pretty crappy family. Not physically abusive but hes without a doubt the least favourite child. Gets less money for an allowance, has to follow the rules more closely, isn’t allowed friends over etc.

They don’t really talk to him because of his quirk. They’ll ask him questions or tell him to do things but tend to point blank ignore him if he asks something.

Its not the worst foster family hes been it but its not the best. Hes not going to raise a fuss because its nice and close to UA and hes dealt with worse.

Monoma

mother was a police officer and died when Monoma was young, raised by his single father.

His father had some bad ex-girlfriends that were pretty terrible to Monoma but he believed him and they broke up every time.

Other kids didn’t like to play with him because he was a “copy cat” so he acted mean and pretended he didn’t want to play with the other kids because they were “below him”

Didn’t have friends until Izuku and Hitoshi but he wasn’t exactly bullied, just disliked. Not that he tried very hard to be likable.

Izuku

Same as canon mostly but a touch different too

His mother, while still kind, is more absent. Works night shifts and sees a lot of her husband in her son so she don’t really try to spend much time with him.

Izuku knows nothing about his father, other than the fact he demanded izuku be tested for a quirk when he was born. He assumes the guy skipped out in his mum when they found out he didn’t have one but he doesn’t know for sure.

Bakugo is Bakugo as you well know. Izuku has a history of passive suicidal ideation due to a lack of self worth and the belief the nobody cares about him at all.

How did they meet? It’s a mess really. Bakugo burn one of Izuku’s arms badly enough that he had to limp to a hospital after school, where he met Shinsou who was there for much the same reason. They talked for a bit before Monoma, Shinsou’s school friend, bursts in and starts ranting about how hes going to copy All Mights quirk and punch the girl that hurt Shinsou into next year.

They bond.