#well i mean i can but i don’t trust my time management skills enough to do it

[catastrxblues]

i hate group assignments so much oh my god

[ponderingmoonlight]

Imma be an anon cause I'm bit scared . I fell in love with the way u write.

May I get a Headcanon with nanami if you're comfortable 🥺

A hurt /comfort where NANAMI raised his voice at reader which lead reader to distance him for a long period?

You can go anything with the plot . Thank you!

Hey honey, I'm not writing headcanons atm because I'm not comfortable with, but I decided to turn this into a full on fic instead - hope you like it, let me know! ♡

Nanami Kento raising his voice at you

Pairing: Nanami Kento x reader

Word Count: 2,1k

Synopsis: He had no other choice but to scream at you in the middle of a fight, snapping at you like he never did before. It took both of you a few weeks to realize that you can't be with each other...

Warnings: Listen, I adore the gentleman Nanami fics (as you can see on my own blog lol) but it was so much fun to let this man snap as well, to let his temper show once, this is a classy hurt to comfort with some angst - enjoy!

„Don’t do it, (y/n). You’ll get yourself in serious danger. Stay behind me and let me handle this.”

You huff in sheer frustration, eyes piercing through the back of his perfect undercut. Why? Why isn’t Kento Nanami able to trust you? You are a grade 1 sorcerer just like he is, so skilful with handling your sword that even Gojo is impressed by your abilities. But despite all of that, he positioned himself in front of you instantly when that special grade curse appeared, blocking every minor attack that might come your way.

Oh, how much you love that man, how much you adore the way he cares about you deeply. It’s not a secret to anyone how you feel for each other, how your eyes light up when he enters the room, how his gaze instantly softens for only you.

“I’m a big girl, I can handle this myself.”

But this is too much. Damn, you’ve been a jujutsu sorcerer as long as he is, constantly training to get better and better. It’s not fair to lock you out of this fight when your-

“Stop contradicting me all the time!”

The sharp tone in his usual calm voice makes you flinch, body moving backwards automatically when he turns around. His eyes are cold, so cold that your blood seems to freeze in your veins. You’ve never seen him like this, especially not when it comes to you. That sweet and tender man with a face that doesn’t show any emotion most of the time now looks down at you with venom spitting from his orbs, arms so tight that his veins look like they’ll burst any minute.

“This is too big for you. Now do me a favour and stay.in.line.”

“But I’m-“

“ENOUGH!”

“Kento!”

“You are acting like a stupid child! Now do what I said!”

You are lost at words, eyes staring into his furious ones until he turns around and hunts after the blue-haired curse named Mahito again.

A wave of agony washes over you before you can stop it, body feeling numb. It’s ridiculous to be hurt about his words, surely he didn’t mean to raise his voice at you, but still…

You swallow hard. But still it fucking hurts. Since you’ve known him, Kento never snapped at you. Not once, not in a million lifetimes. He was always tender when expressing his opinion just like you are. Yes, there were never heated arguments, cruel words or loud voices from any of you. But he just broke that unsaid rule.

He really hit you where it hurts.

-back at jujutsu high-

“Hey, how are you feeling?”

Your fingers ruffle through the pink hair in front of you gently, eyes scanning over Yuji’s bruised body. What an impressive boy he is. How did he manage to break through this sphere, to almost end that curse? For a new jujutsu sorcerer, he is remarkably skilled - and a true sweetheart on top.

“I’m doing fine, don’t worry about me, (y/n)-san. How are you feeling? You seem so…I don’t know, different I guess. Are you alright?”

You force a small smile onto your shaky lips. Is it selfish that you can’t forget the way Kento barked at you, that he basically told you you are too weak for this fight? You wish you were better than that, strong enough to outstand your self-seeking feelings and visit him in the hospital wing.

But you simply can’t. Not right now. Not when his stinging voice is still so present in your mind.

“Don’t worry about me, okay?”

“Hey, how you’re doing, sweet cheeks? Nanami is asking for you, are you free?”

You swallow away the big lump forming in your throat, eyes not daring to look up at her.

“Actually, I still have to tell Gojo what happened. Thank him for his invitation, I have to keep going.”

You need to get out of here as fast as possible, away from the stinging gaze of Shoko who knows exactly something’s up, who eyes you up and down. As if in trance you storm out of the hospital wing, straight into the burning hot sunlight, heart pumping so hard against your ribcage that you feel like fainting any possible minute.

“ENOUGH!”

His voice still echoes through your head, makes you feel like a child again. Kento never looked at you this coldly, without any emotion in his usual so soft orbs. What on earth did you do to upset him like this? After all, you were on countless missions together before, defeated multiple grade 1 curses side by side. What was different this time? Was it Yuji, the bad weather? Why did he decide to scream at you like this?

“What are you doin’ here? I was already on my way to look after you in the hospital wing. Aren’t ya supposed to be by Nanami’s side?”

Your heart stops for a minute. Fuck, Gojo Satoru and his cheeky smile are definitely the last thing you need right now. If he only knew how much his words make your heart sting in agony, how much strength it costs you to act like nothing happened. You know how ridiculous it must be, avoiding the love of your life over some random words and a harsh tone.

But you can’t help it.

“I was on my way to report about the mission”, you explain briefly.

“Is there something you need to tell me? C’mon, you can’t even look at me (y/n).”

Your glossy eyes dart towards Gojo. God, how pathetic you feel. Why aren’t you able to just get over it and move on? Why are you making things so hard for both you and Kento, standing here on the brink of tears instead of being by his side?

“I can’t have it right now, Gojo. Just leave me alone.”

But despite the way your heart aches for him, you continue walking towards your dorm. That stone cold look on his face, the way he clenched his fists.

“This is too big for you.”

“You are acting like a stupid child.”

You shake your head violently. No, you aren’t able to simply forgive and forget what you saw that mission. This man wasn’t the Kento Nanami you know and love, not the man you thought he was. What if it was all a lie? What if this is what he really sees in you? A weakling, a dumb child.

Breathe in, breathe out, don’t lose your composure.

“I need some time for myself…”

-a few weeks later-

Kento hates it with every fiber of his being. Waking up in the morning, your face still present in his sleep-drunken mind until reality hits him. Since he lashed out, you didn’t talk more than a few necessary sentences with him. And even though you don’t seem to be cold and distant, everything just changed.

Oh, if he could turn back time, if he was able to take back all those things he said to you. He should have stopped when you flinched backwards, should have stopped when your eyes turned glossy. But he knew your life was in serious danger, that Mahito is no curse to be messed with. The decision between hurting your feelings or watching you die…

At least you’re safe. At least Mahito was too focused on finishing him to even involve you into his sphere. This should be everything he cares about, it’s only naturally that you are hurt. But still…What would he do to hold you again, what would he do for you to smile at him as brightly as you did back then. He misses you with his whole heart.

“You could just try talking to her, y’know? I bet (y/n) might understand”, Gojo tries to cheer him up, legs laying stretched out on the table between them.

“I don’t want to force myself onto her. After all, I deserve her anger and disappointment.”

And oh, it was written on your face. The way your trembling lips parted, how your eyes widened just the slightest when his words hit you like a train.

“C’mon, don’t be so hard on yourself-“

“I hurt her. And I will never forgive myself for doing that”, he interrupts the white-haired man determined.

“Well, could you forgive yourself if she got killed?”

Nanami lets out his breath, simply stares into the distance. Of course Gojo is right. Damn, he doesn’t regret his decision. But still…

It hurts.

“Sorry. Do you have a minute to…talk?”

His heart stops beating. There you stand, nervously picking on your nails while you look at him. God, he always looks so fine. Why on earth does he have to look so fine? No, you have to focus. After all, you are here to talk things out. These last weeks were nothing but torture for you, your heart bleeding waterfalls every time you saw him. Oh, you never knew you were able to crave someone else this badly.

But there you are, standing in the door like an idiot.

“You sure can! I’m doing…some other stuff I guess. See ya!”

Within the blink of an eye, Gojo is gone in the wind and leaves you alone with him.

“You don’t have to stand there. Please, sit down.”

That gentle tone you know you well, his inviting voice that makes your stomach drop from time to time. With wobbly legs, you cross the room to sit opposite to him on the still warm chair of Gojo.

What are you supposed to say? How are you supposed to act? Your mind goes blank, forgets every little piece of conversation you trained these last days. Fuck, why are you even here? Maybe you should just leave-

He grabs your hand.

Nanami Kento grabs your hand.

“Let me apologize for the things I said to you back then. It was in no way right to snap at you like that. But when I saw what Mahito is able to do, when I realized he is far better than all the other special grade courses I ever encountered…(y/n), it might sound selfish, but all I could think about was saving you.”

You stare at him in utter disbelief, heart beating out of your chest. Did he…did he really say that?

“You…wanted to save me…”

“You are a skilled jujutsu sorcerer, probably better than me. But if it wasn’t for Yuji, I would be dead by now. To think that you might die…I couldn’t take it, (y/n). You are everything to me.”

“Everything…”

“This might be the wrong moment, the worst timing for saying such things. But I love you, (y/n). I loved you with all my heart for ages, love you for everything you are. Even though you aren’t able to forgive me what I said, even though you don’t want to see me again…(y/n), I love you.”

The countless nights you kept yourself awake pondering about how he feels for you, the countless nights his words echoed through your heart. The countless nights you thought you interpreted his affection wrong, that he doesn’t feel the same.

Vanished into thin air.

Nothing but a fade whisper in the darkness.

“These last weeks you were all I could think about. I thought you might not feel the same, that you might not be the person I thought you were-“

He squeezes your hands firmly, the troubled ocean of his eyes getting lost in yours.

“I’m not able to put my feelings into words the way you deserve it, (y/n). But I know for sure that I’m hopelessly in love with you.”

You snap. All these nights without him, the grief you were put through, his gorgeous face close enough to touch while you couldn’t allow yourself to. With a swift motion you crawl over the table that divides the two of you, closing the distance of these past weeks with a kiss.

A kiss that contains all the anger, the disappointment and the affection you hold for him. That gorgeous man who swept you off your feet. That gorgeous man who showed a side you’ve never seen before, who risked his own life in order to save yours.

Nanami Kento.

“God, I love you (y/n). I love you so much”, he mutters against your lips, hands pressing you firmly against his warm body.

“I don’t want to let go again.”

He smiles against your mouth, eyes gleaming like the sun itself.

“Then don’t”.

Tags:  @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @satoreo @luwumii @tachiharazsstuff @kentocalls @cheesemachine44 @kenjakusconcubine @baku2345 @komelrebi-san @deezy12299 @busyreader17 @4pgletter @okay-it-is-ivy @iluvtoru

[shoalweedhence]

You were out my League

Warnings: Reader with self-confidence issues

Pairing: Eddie Munson x GN Reader

Content Tag: Hurt/Comfort & Fluff

Word Count: 1543

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

Just as you turn the page of the book lying in your lap, you feel the covers beneath you shift slightly. Glancing away from the page, you watch as Eddie, eyes closed and fully immersed in his own world, bobs his head to the music you can faintly hear as it filters through his headphones. Your eyes lower down to his fidgeting hand, fingers splayed on the bed -his bed- as they tap along to the melody. The rings adorning his knuckles glint in the afternoon sunlight streaming through his open window. The warm air caresses your face, guiding you like a soft hand tilting your chin back up. You look at your boyfriend’s concentrated features, his eyebrows knitting, the edge of his nose pinching, the corners of his mouth moving almost imperceptibly in a downward motion.

You could lose yourself for hours at the sight of him -actually, you already had, many times before, and did not plan on stopping anytime soon, partly because you enjoyed looking at him very much, and partly because you thought that, maybe, if you looked at him just long enough, the answer to a seemingly life-long question you had would finally be answered.

Because, seriously, how *had* you managed to go out with him? 

You had been told many times that you should not question it. ‘If he’s happy with you and you’re happy with him, don’t overthink it’ your friends of the Hellfire Club had been quick to reassure you, both wanting you to be happy as well as rooting for their leader to finally have some more positives in his life. 

You wanted to not overthink, of course, and you did your best to not let your mind wander whenever Eddie did something kind for you; that one time he agreed to give you a lift back home because your car was getting fixed, the way he would hold your hands -whenever the Hoosier weather decided to cool for two days in the year- and bring them up to his face, blowing a warm breath on them, the way he would bring you food to share and a movie to watch when things were tough, the way he was patient and considerate, but just persistent enough to have you explain what your limits were in this relationship… he would just drop anything he was doing in a heartbeat if it was for you. Had you ever done anything like that for him?

Ultimately, though, the voice at the back of your head would just not stop nagging you, and you learned to live with this constant headache.

You jumped a little when you felt something warm touch your hand. You looked down hastily, noticing a ringed hand covering yours before your eyes flitted back up towards Eddie’s.

“What is it?” He asked, taking off his headphones with his free hand.

“What do you mean?” You answered after a pause, your throat feeling stuffy, as if it was full of cotton, since you had not talked for a while.

“You were staring,” he said, and as your eyes averted his from embarrassment. “I don’t mind, it’s just,” he added quickly, shifting his position on the bed so he was facing you, both of his hands playing with yours, “sometimes you get that look in your eyes, and it seems like you’re not having happy thoughts…” 

Of course he had noticed. One more reason to get him a trophy for best boyfriend on the planet, you thought.

But despite how elated your heart felt, singing his praises for how well he was able to read you, now, you also felt quite vulnerable. He was your partner, and a wonderful one at that, and you knew you could trust him -seriously, you could not imagine yourself with someone you did not fully trust, and Eddie met that criteria with remarkable skill. 

Still, you wondered if he might take it badly. After all, if you told him you did not feel you deserved his love, did that imply that you thought he might expect something from you which you were not aware of? Did you think he was manipulating you? Were you the one leading him on, hiding what you were really thinking? Did you even trust that anyone could love you?

“You don’t have to tell me,” Eddie said when he saw you spiralling down into your thoughts, “but I want to be here for you, and I will listen if there’s anything you want to tell me.”

The sound of his voice, deep and slightly gravely as he kept it low with a confidential tone, brought you back to reality. The feeling of his calloused fingertips tracing abstract patterns on the back of your palm now registering through your unfocused senses. As you looked back up at him, meeting his curious and concerned eyes you felt the shackles of your heart slacken.

“I just…” You trailed off, searching his soulful eyes for a hint of irritation, but instead finding bucket loads of compassion, “you are so out of my league.”

You were expecting a laugh, and he did smile a bit, but instead, he tilted his head to the side.

“Why do you think that?”

You inhaled, feeling the contents of the inside of your heart make their way up your throat, and as soon as you opened your mouth, you felt any hope of restraint dissolve.

“Well, you’re incredible, in every possible way. You’re strong, impossibly kind, extremely skilled at anything you set your mind to, you are so panoptically passionate, you’re funny, you’re unfathomably dependable and you never let your friends down, you’re goofy, and I mean this with all the love in my heart, you can sense when people need cheering up and you just cheer them up by, I don’t know, some kind of Eddie magic,” you gestured with your free hand as if you held a wand, earning a chuckle from Eddie, “you’re just so amazing, I don’t think I deserve-”

You stopped yourself before the sentence could fully leave your lips, swallowing back the last word with difficulty. When you spoke again, your voice was quieter:

“And then you go around and do the sweetest things for me, the most touching gestures and you’re so thoughtful…”

You sighed, taking a few seconds to steady your breathing as your soliloquy left your lungs empty. You looked at the book in your lap, the words incoherently blurring together, the sentences stringing themselves in one long incomprehensible line. Your eyes moved away from the paper, getting distracted by the bigger palms having captured your own. 

“You don’t think you deserve that?” Eddie asked calmly.

You looked up at him, his brown eyes shifting with an emotion you found impossible to decipher. You nodded.

Eddie smiled sadly, “Sweetheart, you’re like the perfect opposite of a Hobbit.”

If it were not for the whiplash you had just been victim to, your heart melting at the nickname he gave you, followed by the name of a fictional race you were not necessarily certain you wanted to be associated with, you surely would have answered more eloquently. Instead, only a ‘huh’ escaped your lips.

“You’re exactly like Bilbo’s evil doppelgänger,” Eddie continued, nodding to himself.

“...I’m not following.”

“Anytime something bad happens during his journey, what does Bilbo Baggins do? He ruminates -which you’re quite good at doing too, that’s maybe your one similarity- but he looks out onto the unjust world that took him out of his cozy, warm and delightful Hobbit hole and he vents his frustration outwards. You, my dear, do the opposite. Anytime something good happens to you, and yes, I will speak of myself as a positive in your life, that string of compliments you gave me is going to serve as an ego boost for years to come, you start questioning it, thinking back on all the negative you’ve ever experienced and wondering if you do deserve that good.” One of Eddie’s hands left yours and he cupped your cheek, “be more like Bilbo. Take credit for the good things when they happen and be frustrated at the world when things go wrong, not the other way around.”

You closed your eyes, fighting back the tears that were threatening to spill and leaned into his touch. 

“Come here,” Eddie whispered, pulling you into his chest as he rested his head on top of yours.

Closing your eyes, you focused on his strong heartbeat that you could feel pulsating at regular intervals against your back. There was also his scent, which you could now take full inhales of as you stood closer to him, though the smell of weed was the most intense one. Your fingers idly played with the pins and patches on his jean jacket, tracing the designs that you knew by heart.

After a few moments, you turned your head just a bit, looking up at him. You bit your lip as your smile threatened to morph into laughter at the joke formulating in your head.

“If I become more like Bilbo I might just grow long curly hairs on my feet, though.”

The echo of Eddie’s laugh reverberated against your back as his chest shook.

“I’d still love you.”

[oathbips]

It's You! Soulmate AU

summary: you got an invitation letter from the Japan Football Union to join the Blue Lock program and ran into someone special

word count: 5.2k

content: gn!reader x isagi yoichi, fluff, a lot of blushing from both parties, anri being your wing woman

author's note: this took FOREVER. 5.2k words is crazy. I'm not posting another one-shot after this one for a while due to school but please do leave suggestions on what my next one-shot should be. this feels horrible as i was reading it over but oh well, i already wrote 5.2k words worth of it so imma post it!

“I’m home!” 

“Oh, welcome home Y/n! How was school?” your mother asked as she carried some boxes toward the dining table.

“It was okay. The soccer team seems to be getting the hang of everything now.”

“Ehhh. Oh! Speaking of soccer, a letter for you came in today. It’s from the Japan Football Union.” She placed the boxes down before reaching toward the middle of the table and picking up an envelope. 

“Huh? Japan Football Union? Why?” Confused, you quickly take off your shoes and speed walk towards the mail. Opening it, it reads,  

L/N Y/N, YOU’VE BEEN SELECTED FOR A SPECIAL TRAINING PROGRAM

“Ehh?! Me? What for? I don’t even play soccer.” You said, puzzled. Surely this was a mistake? 

“Well, you are part of a soccer team dear.” Your mom replied as she starts to unpack her boxes. 

“Only as a manager. Well… I do help out with checking their physicals and making sure they’re in top form but I’m not actually playing!”

“Maybe that’s the reason why you’re invited.” 

“Huh? What do you mean?” You asked, still confused. 

Giving you an expression as if saying you are hopeless, your mom lets out a small laugh afterward. “Dear, you work in a clinic with your father and me. You basically grew up there. Always observing what we do and observing the patients themselves. You developed a keen eye for people’s physicality. Maybe they’re inviting you to help observe and keep the players in the program in top form.”

“…Oh. You think so? That does make sense.” You stated as you finally start to understand.

“Mhm. Well, are you going to go? I think you should. Actually, I don’t think you have a choice anyways.” She giggled before continuing, “I think this will be a perfect opportunity for you to learn more about the field and it’ll give you first-hand experience in dealing with athletes’ physicals. They’re the toughest patients to work on because they must keep up their health more than anyone.” 

“But I don’t think I’m confident enough yet. I’m not at that level yet. What if my judgments are wrong?” You asked doubtfully. 

“Trust your skills, honey. Besides, I don’t think they’ll have a child working there all by themself sweetheart. Another doctor will be there I’m sure. Learn from them and if you ever need any assistance, you can always call me and Dad.” Your mother reassured you. She unpacks the final box before walking towards you and bringing you into a hug.

“You’ll be fine. And who knows, you might even run into that soulmate of yours that’s been bothering you so much lately.” 

“Mom!” Embarrassed for being called out on one of your worries lately, you try to push the matters away. 

She’s not wrong. It has been bothering you lately. Everybody's soulmate's name always pops up on one of their body parts letter by letter the closer they get in proximity. All your friends have reached 3-4 letters into their soulmate’s name while you’re still stuck at your first letter, I. The first letter appears for everybody once they reach 14 and from there, it all depends on how close your soulmate is to you. The first letter for yours first appeared on your wrist on your 14th birthday. Having no letters appearing after the first just shows how far your soulmate is. Maybe they’re across the country? You thought that was the case many times before but your friends insisted it’s because you rarely go out unless it’s for school, soccer, and the clinic and it’s not like you don’t want to. It’s just that school, soccer, and the job at the clinic literally make up your whole schedule and time. 

It seems silly to be getting so bothered over such trivial matters. It seems cliché but to you, it’s just a matter of curiosity. Your parents were bound soulmates and they found out when they worked together years ago then fell in love and got married. You don’t mind if you didn’t get that same fate for yourself but come on, who wouldn’t be curious about who their soulmate is? At least give another letter or two so one doesn't die from curiosity. 

After a few more moments of recollecting your thoughts, you start to realize with a sense of hope that maybe your mom is onto something. The program will be huge with lots of people. Surely, a second letter has to pop up. 

“That face is surely turning hopeful all of a sudden.” Your mother laughed once more then ruffled your hair. “You’re such an amusing kid. Okay, let’s get ready for dinner. Dad’s about to get home soon.”

The day of the meetup came and you made your way to the location the letter directed you to meet at with your suitcases on hand. Walking towards a building you believe is the correct address, the stone written sign in front proves you correct, The Japan Football Union. 

“Ah, hello! You must be L/n Y/n!” A lady with shoulder length and light brown-reddish hair called out as soon as you stepped in front of the building. “My name is Anri Teieri. I’m a hire here at the Japan Football Union and an associate for the Blue Lock program.” 

“Hello, nice to meet you!” You greeted the young woman with a bow. “The letter told me to meet here?”

“Yes, that is correct. Let me first explain the program to you. This is a program we have created by gathering 300 selected strikers and putting them through this program where only one can make it out to be the true striker that changes Japan’s soccer. I’m the one who selected you for the program. I believe this program can really use your skills for assistance.”

Taken aback by what she had just explained, you stood there for a few seconds trying to comprehend what she just told you. Only one can make it out? Then what happens to the rest? This sounds crazy. It’s like a gamble and everybody in this program is putting their career on the line.

Another moment or so passed as you let the idea sink into you before speaking up, not wanting to keep the woman in front of you waiting any longer, “… I see. But may I ask, how did you find…?” You tried to find the best way to ask the question. Though there’s no need since Anri caught on to what you were trying to ask. 

“We looked through many soccer matches to select who should be in the program. In one of the matches I watched, I saw you assisting your team and co-directing along with your coach according to the players’ physicals which in turn, improved their plays afterward. I wanted to recruit you to help with Blue Lock.” 

“Oh, I understand now. But I am still only a high schooler. There must also be an adult with solid education and certification for this program, right? I can’t be 100% sure on everything alone.” You expressed your concerns.

“Yes, of course. We have certified doctors here. I just think you have a special skill that could improve the players even more. The doctors are also there to guide you along the way.” Anri reassured you.

“Okay, that’s good. Then, I’ll do my best.” You bowed again and she gave a smile. 

“Good! Follow me then. The letter did specify that you’ll now be living in the Blue Lock facility. We’ll have a car ready for you once the entrance “ceremonial” is over for the players.” 

You began to follow her as she took you inside, passing a few rooms along the way. Walking by one, you got a glimpse of a room filled with what you believed were the selected players for the program. 

“Woah.” You couldn’t help but feel so amazed at the sight you’re seeing. There were so many all gathered in one room. Anri then took you further away from the sight and into a room that looked like a waiting room. 

“Just wait here for now. It won’t be long before the car is ready for you. I’ll be right back to help you depart.” Anri said and then left the room, leaving just you alone in there.

“Woah.” You repeated in your head again. This just feels so unreal and crazy to you. “I get to be a part of all this?” The events start to hit you again as you start getting nervous all of a sudden. “It’s okay. This is an opportunity for me. To hone my skills like Mom said. I’ll be okay.” You mumbled to yourself in an attempt to relax. You then settled on fiddling with your sleeves around your wrist as a distraction. It was then and there that something had caught your attention. Doing a double take on your wrist, you hurriedly pulled down your sleeve, revealing your wrist and there it was. You couldn’t believe your eyes. The second letter to your soulmate’s name had appeared. It was a S. 

After Anri had helped you pack your stuff into the car, you were all set for the trip to the facility. She told you a while back that the players and staff are to take separate transportation. The staff was to arrive first and help set everything up a few days before the players arrives. So here you are, currently standing right in front of the Blue Lock building. It was a lot bigger than you had anticipated. You can’t even imagine the amount of money that they actually put into this whole thing. 

“We’ll unload everybody’s stuff and then I’ll show you into your room,” Anri stated before heading off to help the other staff members unload their suitcases first. You got off and began to unload yours, however, you might have underestimated how heavy all your things really are as you struggled a bit to drag the suitcase out. Pulling with all your might and then stopping to take a break. You were about to resume the pulling until a hand reached out from beside you and grabbed your suitcase, pulling it out and lifting it up like it was nothing. He set the suitcase down for you. 

“Here.” 

“Oh, thank you so much!” You turned around to give thanks and bow. In front of you is a very slender man, dressed in all black. He wore glasses with black frames and had a bowl haircut. The tall man looked like he hadn't gotten any sleep in days and was a little unhinged. 

“Woah, that haircut.” You thought before realizing how rude that was and shook your head to get rid of that thought. He continued to help unload your remaining things before setting off toward Anri. It was a little shocking seeing how easily he unloaded those stuff with such a slim build.

After everything was finally unloaded, Anri showed you to your room. The room was surprisingly a lot bigger than you thought. It was cleaned and neat down to the floor. It also had a personal bathroom and a whole TV. “Wow.” Was all you could think of once you laid eyes in that room. 

Lunch was set out for everyone after they were settled. It didn’t take you long before you realized that you were the only student there, making you extremely awkward and out of place. 

“You must be L/n Y/n. Your parents told me you’ll be here.” A man called out, breaking your little bubble. 

“Hello, nice to meet you. You know my parents?” You stood up to greet the man.

“Yes, we used to work together. Told me to look after you and help guide you during this period at the program.” 

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance. I’ll do my best.” 

The two of you then chatted a bit about trivial matters until Anri approaches you and gives you a piece of paper. It’s the schedule for the day the players arrive. 

“They’ll be arriving the day after tomorrow. You’ll help me that morning to settle them down once they arrive.”  

“Yes ma’am!” 

The day Blue Lock officially starts has now arrived. The players are scheduled to come in about an hour. You’re standing in position just like Anri had instructed you to. Once they arrive, you are to collect all their belongings and organize them accordingly. “Take all their belongings from bags to wallets, to their phones too.” Was what she said. You couldn’t help but think why couldn’t they just tell the players to leave behind their belongings instead but that was the least of your concern. What really has been on your mind ever since last night was the new letter that had popped up on your wrist two days ago. It happened when you entered the Japan Football Union building so that must mean your soulmate is one of the players. That also means the next letter will show up today once the players arrive. Waiting anxiously now the more you start to think about it, your body also starts to suddenly feel restless too so you begin pacing around your area for some time until the sound of buses pulling up could finally be heard.

“Everyone, if you could please get in a line and one by one come up to me when I call out your name and hand me your belongings that includes your phones. Once you hand them in, you’ll be able to enter the building and then be handed your uniform. The uniform will have a number and letter. Please head to the room corresponding to the letter on your uniform. Thank you!” You explained to the crowd in front of you. 

Immediately complaints were made. Complaints ranging from why do they have to give up their phones to what kind of place takes people’s belongings, etc. Still, they all obliged and one by one gave you their stuff. As you collected each player’s belongings, you also kept an eye on your wrist and the roster you were given. Looking at your wrist, making sure when a new letter will show up, and looking through the roster trying to find an IS at the beginning of each name. To your satisfaction, a new letter did show up as you were calling up the next player. A loud screeching squeal came out of your throat out of excitement which in turn, startled the boy currently in front of you as he gave you a weird look. 

“So sorry!” You apologized quickly after giving one more glance towards the letter then collected his things. 

The new letter was an A. You grabbed the roster and looked through the list for an ISA but you were left with disappointment when none appeared. “Is he on the roster Anri has then?” You thought to yourself. It had to be the case if he wasn’t on yours, and the marks on your wrist are showing that he is close by. You decided that you’ll just ask for her list later. 

After finally finishing the last player on your list, you slumped down on the nearest chair to catch yourself a break. It was only a partial amount of the 300, and you already felt exhausted. “How in the world will Ego even handle the whole 300?” You said aloud to yourself. Then, interrupting your thoughts shortly after was Anri approaching you, offering if you wanted to come watch the first selection with her and Ego, the coach leading this Blue Lock program and the one that helped you with your luggage when you first arrived.

“Huh? Already? They just got here.” You replied, surprised. 

“The sooner the better. No time for leisurely here at Blue Lock, Y/n.”

“Uh- yes, ma’am.” You got up and started following her as she led the way to what you believe will be the observation room. Along the way, you asked her if you could see the list of names she had. 

“Sure. Here it is. What do you need it for by the way?” 

“Oh. Uh…” You debated on the thought of telling her the truth until you decided it’s probably best to just tell her so you don’t end up looking like some peeping Tom, stalking the players later. With a sigh, you roll up your sleeve, revealing the soulmate mark you have. 

“Oh! So is that what it is?” She cracks a smile and laughs. This made you feel embarrassed as you cover your sleeve back down and try to hide your face behind your hands. 

“I know it’s silly! But the letters started appearing after that day at the Japan Football Union meetup.” You told her, face still buried in your hands.

“Haha! It’s fine! Nothing to be embarrassed about. I have mine too, on the right side of my shoulder. Though, I actually never cared for it.”

“You never get curious about who it is?”

“At times, but I think I’m just too busy dealing with soccer matters most of the time to really care.” She then continued, “Hmm let me see, yours says ISA huh?” The short hair woman contemplated about it for a second before beaming once the realization hit her. 

“Ah! Isagi Yoichi! His name starts with ISA.” 

You looked through her roster and sure enough, the name Isagi Yoichi is there. Could that really be him? 

“We’re going to observe the players with Ego. You’ll get the chance to see him. Once he shows up, I’ll point him out to you.” 

The observation room was dark as ever once you arrived, with millions of screens on display. There in the middle of the biggest screen in the room, sat Ego Jinpachi.

“Are they starting yet?” Anri asked.

“Not yet. Give it another 5 minutes. They're still changing.” 

“Okay, have you met y/n yet? This is them. Y/n, I’m sure you know who he is already.” 

“Yes, he helped me with my luggage the other day. Thank you again for that.” You bow to him but he gives no response in return as he starts getting busy setting up for the first test. 

“Don’t worry about him. He can be a bit-” Anri tried reassuring before Ego quickly interrupted.

“Oi stupid, I can hear you.” 

Anri’s expression twisted to that of annoyance like her forehead vein was about to pop out, and you had to hold in a snort at how funny this scene in front of you was.

“Then be nice! They’ll be a critical role in this program!” The woman yelled even though it was going through one ear and out the other for Ego because he gave no replies to that either. You can hear her grumble even more at that nonexistent response. 

“We’re beginning,” Ego stated and pressed a button which caused the entire room to be lit with cameras displaying the players in different rooms. He pulls up Team Z’s camera first and begins, “Are you done changing, you lumps of talent?” 

And so the first entrance test begins. After greeting the players of Team Z and explaining to them about the first test, they all start playing a game of tag with soccer. You’re watching from the side alongside Anri as the test is about to start. A ball from the ceiling drops down and lands right in front of a boy with dark blue-blackish hair that has a V-shape fringe. 

Anri immediately went to tap you on the shoulder. “That’s him. Isagi Yoichi.” She whispered.

Your eyes widened and your body stood still for a second. Is that actually him? “I went from having no new markings show up for years to actually seeing what he looks like with my own two eyes.” You thought to yourself. Your soulmate is quite literally in the same facility as you right now. You suddenly felt your face heating up while you were deep in your thoughts, and Anri looked over to check on you before letting out a giggle at the sight she was seeing. 

“Your face’s freezing up! Are you blushing?” 

“What? No-!” You tried to deny it really quickly. 

This causes Ego to turn his attention towards you two when he heard the commotion and you immediately turned your whole body away from both of them at the speed of light.  

“Please focus on the game! I’m not blushing!” 

Anri was full-on belly laughing at this point until a glare from Ego made her stop. Digging an imaginary hole in your mind right now, you just want to jump it in and call it a day. You’re aware of how hot your face is feeling right now and why that was. It’s because he’s cute. Isagi Yoichi is so cute and it’s making you feel so flustered. 

A few moments passed and you were still facing away from the other two in the room. You were trying to recollect yourself as best as you could so you can focus on the task at hand, observing the players. You were still in the midst of it until Anri basically slap your back causing you to whiplash around to see what was happening. She pointed towards the screen and you turned your gaze there to see that Isagi was now “it”. 

“He took a pretty hard hit from Kunigami just now, the boy with orange hair.” She explained. 

“Ouch.” You wince at the scene you're seeing. Isagi is crouching down from the pain and panting as he gets back up. He starts dribbling the ball and kicks it towards a group of people but they all were able to dodge it. So, he turns to the bald player that’s ranked under him and chases after him with the ball. He was beginning to struggle since the time was closing in. At that moment, you see one of the other players jump onto the boy Anri mentioned earlier, Kunigami. He’s laughing as he’s holding Kunigami and calls out to Isagi. Annoyed, Kunigami took hold of the boy and threw him, prompting him to land on the bald boy earlier. He was able to quickly recover and run away while the bald boy was still frozen up in a sitting position. You see him beginning to beg now in front of Isagi. This was getting intense and you were starting to sweat just from watching. You didn’t want Isagi to be eliminated here. You continue watching, silently telling him in your mind to shoot the ball. He sets the ball in position and is getting ready to kick when he suddenly stops. Your inner thoughts started yelling at him, confused about why he stopped but your thoughts were cut short when he started dashing the other way with the ball. 

“What is he trying to do?” You thought. 

That’s when the boy from earlier who held Kunigami went up to Isagi and declared, “I like you! You get it!” He took the ball from Isagi making him the tagger now. With only 11 seconds left, he dashes through a group of people and aims the ball toward the silver-haired boy.

“Kira-kun?!” Isagi called out.

He successfully dodges it and the time is now down to 7 seconds. The tagger jumped over him towards the ball and now it’s down to 5 seconds. At that very moment, the ball was kicked across the room, straight to Isagi again. 

“Isagi, no!” You screamed in your mind. Your fists were clenching, and your teeth were biting at your lower bottom lip, hard. However, your anxiousness comes to a halt as you watch the expression on Isagi’s face. It was only an instant but he looked… mad. Not angry mad, but crazy mad. 2 seconds left, and he kicks the ball straight at the silver-haired boy, Kira, knocking him down. The timer goes off right there. He looks shocked at what he just did himself. That’s when Ego enters again, ending the first test. 

You made your way back to your room, and as soon as you entered, you dropped on all fours on the floor. “That was so nerve-racking.” You cried out. Is this really what you have to go through every single day now? “And I’m not even the one playing, I can’t even imagine how the players feel.” But during those last seconds, Isagi was really different. It was like he was a whole new person. He’s… really cool. You ponder on those last 10 seconds again as you get up to change. Today was a long day, a rest was definitely needed. You started taking off your blouse first and went to throw it in the laundry bin. That’s when you noticed it again. The fourth letter to your soulmate’s name, G. “I must’ve been so focused earlier that I didn’t even notice it. ISAG, huh? Yea, that’s definitely Isagi Yoichi.” 

The next day arrived, and you were making your way to the training room. Today’s schedule is just training for the players. For you, it’s to assist and give tips for their conditions. You finally were able to meet the players more personally. Starting from the top team, Team B, and downwards. Anri has been with you the whole day introducing all the teams to you and walking you through it all. Right now, you are currently making your way toward the Team Z training room. 

“Eager?” She asked and you felt your face turning hot again.

“Stop! I’m just doing my job!” 

“Haha! Don’t freeze up once you see him now.” 

“I’m not…”

“Oh, here we are.” 

She opens the door and all heads inside immediately turn towards your direction. They all stop their training and gather around the two of you. You made brief eye contact with Isagi before quickly looking away. You felt your face heating up and hoped it was not noticeable. He is so much cuter in person, and here he was, standing right before you.  

“Everyone, this is L/n Y/n. They’ll be assisting you all on your physicals and health so if you have any concerns, do come and ask. They’ll be observing your training today.” 

You were looking everywhere and at everyone except Isagi but in the corner of your eyes, you can still see how his eyes widened at you. You know that he knows now and he knows that you know. The both of you are now awkwardly standing there, one still shocked and one can’t bring to make eye contact for their life. 

“Okay! We don’t want to hold you back from training any longer, off you go. Don’t mind us! Again, if you have any questions, please do approach Y/n.” Anri declared and sent them off to return to their tasks. 

Everyone resumes their training. You and Anri watch from the sideline. 

“This is your chance, you know.” She said. 

“I know. But I’m kind of nervous..” You replied.

You glance at Isagi and see that he too was stealing glances at you. You took this chance to check your wrist again and his full name was now written out, Isagi Yoichi. It really is him and he’s standing right in front of you. You’re still nervous but you can’t let this opportunity pass by. Someone has to make the first move so you made up your mind and finally march your way towards him. He sees this and his expression turns to that of shock before quickly changing it to a small smile as he walks up to you too.

“Hi, I was already introduced but still, I’m L/n Y/n. I take that you know who I am as much as I know who you are.” You said and pull up the sleeve that was hiding his name then extended out your hand for him to shake. 

He looks down at your hand and took notice of his name marking on your wrist. His face turns red at the sight of it but he still manages to return your offering handshake. His hand was surprisingly soft. It was warm and felt oddly comforting. This feeling made you giddy and you couldn’t help but break out a smile so big out of happiness. His eyes widen at this sight and the tips of his ears start going red too until he breaks out a big smile himself.  

“I’m Isagi Yoichi. Sorry, my hand feels really sweaty. I was training… It’s nice to finally meet you.” He said then roll up his uniform sleeve and there reveals your name on the same spot you had his name on. He gave a bashful smile and then rolls it back down.

“I didn’t expect I’ll meet you here of all places.” He said.

“Same, your name never dared to show up so I thought you were across the country or something! I was dying from curiosity.”

“Haha, I gave up after a whole year of no lead but then it suddenly started appearing after I came back from the Japan Football Union the other day.” 

“Yea, me too… I’m glad we’re finally able to meet.” You said.

“Same here.” He smiled at that.

“Oh… you were really cool the other day with your last kick.” You blush as you tell him that which made him blush hearing it. 

“T-thank you! I don’t know what that was. I’m still trying to figure everything out.”

“Hmm. I see a lot of potential in you, Isagi. I’ll be rooting for you.” 

“Really?” 

“Of course, but your potential is something you have to work on and figure out. I know you will… Yea! That’s that! I don’t want to keep you from training any longer, please do resume. I’m here if you ever need anything.” 

At this, He stares at you. Then his face turns motivated and determined. Giving you a firm nod of acknowledgment, he turns his back and resumes his training. You return to your spot on the sideline and it was then that you realized everyone in the room was staring at the two of you this whole time. Anri gave you a teasing proud smile. 

“Please stop staring and resume your training!” You shouted, embarrassed. 

From then on, you two continued your tasks at Blue Lock as usual. Small conversations were exchanged every time you passed each other. Those small convos soon turned into deeper conversations when meeting up after his matches. You became close with the others around him, Bachira, Kunigami, Chigiri, Nagi, etc. When they found out about you and Isagi being soulmates, they teased you both till no end and Isagi without fail, turned red every time. You helped him out when he needed it and improved his playstyles whenever he hit a slump. He supported you as you continued your studies at Blue Lock. You shared stories about each other. You first-handedly witnessed his growth in his personal skills and on the field. The way he completely becomes a different person at the heat of a game was wild to you but that didn’t change the fact that he looked cooler than ever during those moments. By the time the U-20 came about, the two of you were closer than ever.

“The U-20 match is about to start.” He stated and got up, making his way out into the field.

“Isagi.” You called out.

He turns around at the call of his name, “Y/n?” 

“Good luck!” You cheered. 

A smile appears on his face and he raises up his fist at you,  “I’ll win this!”

[anti-the-glitch-bitch]

The Phantom Soldier

@codename-alias Thanks to this beautiful person I've started a new story. It's going to be covering harsh topics such as torture, PTSD, and whatever else I come up with in the future. So, if this isn't for you then just rest assured I'll soon get back to posting about Danny and the Batfam.

Chapter 1- You with those sad eyes

Tensions are still high between Tony and the Rogues after the incident in Siberia. Once Steve had gotten far enough away, he’d given Pepper a call to send someone for Tony, feeling guilty about leaving him stranded in the cold as injured as he was. It’s a couple of months before Tony is healed both physically and mentally from the pain that Steve had wrought upon him, but he does eventually use the phone that Steve had left behind. 

Steve had apologized for what had happened in Siberia but doubles down when anyone says anything bad about Bucky. Tony had realized that both of them had acted in the heat of the moment but ultimately still feels betrayed at the secrets that should have been aired long before that moment, and can’t quite trust Steve to have his back.

Bucky holds such phenomenal guilt at the anguish he had caused that he hides in Steve’s room back at the tower most of the time. Anytime Tony and he are in the same room together, Bucky immediately disappears in the hopes that Tony won’t hate him any more than he does. It helps to soothe some things in Tony, but until they talk it out everyone walks around on eggshells.

While the two teams try to figure out a way to balance this fragile truth, Steve brings to light the Hydra cells that still seem to be in play even after the mass info dump. They’re so well hidden that Steve and Natasha can’t figure out where to go even with her amazing hacking skills. So, they think that maybe Tony might have better luck, and luck he has in spades. 

Tony creates a program that searches for key files by infiltrating the entire net, no matter how deep it has to dig. Anything that had to do with Hydra, the Winter Soldier Program, or the Super Soldier Serum is viciously dug into and scrutinized. They manage to find several active Hydra cells in this way, although, by the time the teams get there, the entire place is always emptied of everything but the office furniture.

It isn’t until they come across a small piece of information about something called The Phantom Soldier that Tony decides that they need to use a different tactic since they are obviously not getting anywhere. When Tony asks Bucky if he’d heard of or seen this “Phantom Soldier Project”, Bucky pales.

“Well, that’s not a good sign. Come on, out with it. What’s got you looking so scared?” Tony asks as he leans up against the kitchen counter.

“The Phantom Soldier was something I was supposed to train,” Bucky says. “My handlers liked to talk about Phantom, and from what I could piece together when I broke free, it was a kid. Or…something that looked like a kid. Hydra made a deal with some government agency called GIW. They believed that ghosts are real and have the ability to mimic human form while only having a more animalistic mind. The GIW captured one who looked like a kid but had more power than the gods.” Bucky looks apprehensive as he continues, his expression darkening. “I don’t know what Hydra gave them in return for this kid but one of the few things I do remember is them hooking up a teenager to the chair. The one that wipes minds. That wiped my mind.” He sits down in one of the chairs at the island, avoiding Tony’s gaze..

“That sounds both insane and horrible. How come you didn’t bring this up before?” Tony asks, crossing his arms.

With his head in his hands, Bucky groans, “Because I thought it was just more nightmares. I can only remember bits and pieces of Phantom and I really thought it was just one of the many things that I’d made up. I mean, who actually believes ghosts exist?”

“I would say no one does but I would be lying. The things we’ve seen make me believe in a lot nowadays.” Tony starts messing with his phone. “Friday, add all this information to the search parameters and see if we can’t find something. Make this a high priority.”

“Sir, it would appear that someone has tried to do a media blackout for anything related to Phantom,” Friday replies. “I’ve started the process of deciphering all information and tracing back to whoever might be placing these orders,” she informs Tony as large files of information are dumped into his phone. It’s going to take him hours to go through everything.

“I don’t care where it leads back to,” Tony says. “Find out what’s going on and who’s doing it. Quietly, if possible. If not, well, they can try and do something about it. See where it gets them.”

~~~                                                           

It takes almost a year before Friday can track down a Hydra cell that still seems to be active. More pieces of information are found about The Phantom Soldier the deeper Friday digs. Like how they acquired the subject when it appeared to be 16. The different ways they tortured the creature. How it seemed to have a weakness to electricity. A few pictures are even found to go along with some of these reports.

The more information Tony goes through, the more sickened he feels.

Tony has to find this kid. 

Thankfully, Friday is able to narrow down the location of the cell and finds it outside a small town in Missouri. The population of the town is only in the hundreds and seems to be isolated enough that the nearest city is two hours away. A perfect place for Hydra to hide.

Tony has both teams meet him in one of the meeting rooms for a debrief.

Natasha, Steve, Bucky, and Sam all sit next to each other while Vision, Wanda, and Pietro sit at the end. Tony stands at the front of the table where a large TV sits on the wall. Rhodey, Bruce, Clint, and Peter sit on the other side. Tony had tried to get Peter to stay behind but the teen had heard about the torture that the Phantom Soldier had gone through and wouldn’t take no for an answer. So, rather than argue with him, Tony let him in on the meeting. Besides, the kid might be able to help in the long run.

“Friday found the base for an active Hydra cell near a small town in Missouri. From the heat signatures, the base is extremely large.” Tony activates a hologram that sits in the middle of the table. It spreads across the table showing off the building and the surrounding areas, including the entire town. 

“From the thermal images Friday has been able to get, there are a large number of Hydra inside. There’s a particularly large cold spot that I think might be where they’re holding Phantom,” Tony says, glancing around the table at everyone. “The security in this place is some of the most high-quality shit. Obviously, it’s still not as good as mine, but some of it is better than what the army has. Friday will be able to hack into it, but someone needs to get her into the system first.”

Natasha clears her throat. “I’ll sneak in to activate her. What kind of security are we looking at?”

Tony flicks his wrist and the hologram changes to show a bunch of different devices. “Their security cameras have both thermal and night vision with very few blind spots. I should be able to give you a jammer that will loop the feed for a few minutes,” he says. “There’s something in the walls that I haven’t figured out what they’re for, but they do have an off switch. They aren’t supposed to inflict harm,  that much I do know. I think it’s some kind of shield, but with an amount of power usage that I’ve never seen.”

He zooms in on a couple of the devices, rotating them so the holograms can be seen from all angles. “Some traps are embedded into the ceiling in case of any subjects escaping, although they only come down if an alarm is sounded. I’ll cook up something that will help you out just in case. You’ve got the typical guards patrolling the place.” Tony zooms back out and surveys his former teammates. “That was all I could find so far. The notes mention something about ‘ectoplasm’, but I haven’t been able to find anything out about it, so I’d just watch out for anything suspicious.”

Natasha nods. “Maybe Bruce can find something out about it from his peers? If it has anything to do with ghosts, then there has to be some kind of information floating about in the scientific field?”

Bruce quickly adjusts his glasses as he speaks up. “I asked around if anyone had heard of anything like ectoplasm and when I mentioned ghosts they laughed at me,” he says. “If it is connected, then the information is so well hidden that the rest of the community has never heard of it.” 

Peter raises his hand as he looks around at the group nervously.

Tony sighs and rolls his eyes. “Kid, this isn’t school. You don’t have to raise your hand.”

“Oh, uh, ok.” Peter looks at Tony before pressing on. “When I was starting middle school, there was this thing going around on Facebook. Some kid from a town called Amity Park was talking about how haunted their town was. The posts continued for a few weeks before it just stopped. When I tried looking into it, all I could find was a deleted account.”

“So, besides talking about how haunted it was, was there other information?” Steve asks. 

Peter nods. “Yeah. This kid would talk about whatever ghost seemed to be attacking the town. After a while, they started talking about this ghost called Phantom that would fight the other ghosts. The kids seemed to like him alright but none of the adults could stand him. The kid even posted a video of one of the attacks but the quality was really bad and it was hard to see what was going on. Something about some ghost called Skuller or Scaller or something. It was like something was interfering with the video.” He shrugs and relaxes back in his seat. 

“Huh. I'm surprised the media didn't pick up on that. Sounds like something that would definitely grab the news attention,” Sam says, leaning forward slightly. 

Wanda stops looking at the hologram to stare down Tony. “It doesn't surprise me that someone shut down any way for this kind of thing to get out. In the world we live in now, it wouldn't surprise us to find out ghosts are out there, but back then? It would cause panic and fear. Not to mention the army trying to figure out how to turn them into weapons if they can.”

“Except Hydra found out about it first and it looks like they turned this ghost kid into a weapon. How much you wanna bet they're the ones behind the blackout?” Sam says. 

Nat scoffs and shakes her head. “That's not a bet I'm willing to take. I'm surprised this wasn't part of the info dump that went out. Otherwise, this news would have been everywhere.”

“Maybe a completely cut-off section of Hydra? One that wasn't part of the rest of the system, but how that’s possible I don't know.” Steve says with a shrug, while the rest of them wonder how something so monumental could have been kept hidden for so long. 

“When are we heading out?” Rhodey asks. “And who's going? A facility this large means you're going to need a lot of backup.”

Pietro scoffs at the assessment and everyone turns to look at him. He shrugs. “I could take out the entire place in seconds. I could do that before your computer even hacks the place.”

“Is that so?” Tony says, crossing his arms. “What are you going to do if you come across this ectoplasm stuff and you can't get past it? Or it hurts you, or it negates your speed? We don't have enough information about this place for you to go in unprepared. Maybe after we get the defenses taken down you could, but it's still dangerous with that Phantom character around.”

Wanda hits her brother's arm lightly. “Think before you speak, brother. Not all problems can be solved with your abilities.”

“Most can,” Pietro mumbles quietly enough that no one comments on it. 

“As for everyone going,” Tony says as he claps his hands together, drawing the attention back to him, “We need Nat to sneak in and get Friday into Hydra’s system. Everyone else hangs back until security is down and their alarms are useless. Then Cap and his bestie can break down the front door while the twins go in the back. I want Vision to hang back until we find out just where and how to help this kid.” 

He shifts his attention to Rhodey and Bruce, who are sitting next to each other. “Sam and I will be air support while Rhodey makes sure the army comes running to sweep up the mess we are definitely going to be making. We don't know what state this kid is gonna be in if we even find him, so I'm going to have Cho stay on the plane with Bruce as her assistant. I don't think we'll need mean and green, but I'd feel better if Cho had someone with her, just to be on the safe side.”

“Mr. Stark, what do you want me to do?” Peter says, looking excited about the prospect of getting to go on an Avengers mission. He’s never gotten to go with the team on these sorts of things, but he really wants to go and help the poor soul that's been tortured. 

“Yeah, no. You are gonna stay here and man the helm. Your aunt would kill me if I let you go,” Tony says as he waggles a finger at the kid. It may be childish but nobody ever said he was mature. 

Peter sputters his protest as he stands up, gesturing wildly as he talks. “I can help! I swear I won't get in anybody's way or get hurt. I can even be backup like Mr. Banner! Mr. Stark, please, please, let me go with you.”

Peter pulls out his ultimate weapon and gives him the puppy eyes. The others look away except for Clint, who has kids and has become immune to that look no matter what his wife says. 

“No. Nu-uh. Nope. Not happening. Absolutely not.” Tony completely avoids the look by staring down at his phone. “There's no telling what this kid can do and I'm not going to be the one to tell May that you got hurt because you wanted to tag along on a mission way above your pay grade. You can monitor the progress from the safety of the tower and that's final.”

With a sigh, Peter drops back into his chair the way only a teenager can. “Fine but I get to meet him once you get him back here and patched up.”

The genius stares at his apprentice for a moment, just long enough to make the teenager squirm in his seat. “We'll see.”

“How long before we're ready to go?” Steve asks as he watches Peter slump in his seat, defeated. 

“I'll leave now and let the higher-ups know to be ready. Let me know when we can move in.” Rhodey says as he stands up and hugs Tony before leaving the room. 

“Be prepared to go by midday tomorrow,” Tony replies “Hopefully, Friday will have even more detailed information for us.”

The groups leave after that, all going their separate ways to get ready for the mission. All except Peter who glumly goes back to Queens to do his evening patrol. 

~~~

“Okay, people! We land in 10. Everyone knows their part, so do your last-minute checks now.” Natasha says from the pilot seat of the Quinjet. 

Everyone adds the last bit of necessary items to their persons as the jet lands. 

Natasha leaves the jet first, quickly and quietly easing herself into the building unseen. Tony had been able to get better pictures of the guards and had made her a matching outfit to go over her Widow outfit. Between that and the face cloaking device she wears, she’s unrecognizable. 

It doesn’t take long for her to find an empty office with a usable computer. After powering up the device, she sticks the flash drive holding Friday in. It only takes five minutes before Tony is on the comm telling her the security system is down and all parties are go for entry.

It doesn't take long for the Hydra agents and staff to start rushing around in a panic. Pietro finds Natasha almost instantly knocking out any guards that come around. 

“Hold your breath. Tony wants me to take you to the lab where the scientists are,” Pietro says, grabbing Natasha’s arm with one hand and bracing her neck and head with the other. 

This isn't the first time he's done this to one of the team members. They've all practiced this maneuver during training so that the motion doesn't catch anyone unaware. So, she does what he says without question. 

It barely takes a second as they zip through halls faster than the eye can see. Thankfully, Natasha’d had the foresight to put her hair up so that the flowing red locks wouldn’t tangle into a horrid mess. The sudden stop unbalances her for a second.

The entire room of scientists are in shock as Natasha and Pietro suddenly appear. The scientists startle as their brains finally kick into gear but before they have the chance to react, Pietro already has them tied up with tape around their mouths.

“Well, that was easy,” Natasha says amusedly. “What’s in here that he wants…” She trails off as she looks around. On one wall are large screens showing off a lot of information on one subject. Hurrying over to them, Natasha takes pictures of each screen so they can be inspected much closer later.

Going through a computer, she finds a file on The Phantom Soldier Project. Not only does it include information about the various ways they tortured the subject, but it also has information on how they’re controlling it. The file also tells her exactly where the kid is now.

“If anyone can hear me, Phantom is in a cell on the Northwest side,” Natasha says into her comm. “His room has those weird shields in the wall preventing him from getting out, so you might have to break down the door. There should also be a collar around his neck that prevents him from using his abilities. Someone try to get to him before Hydra activates him!” As she speaks, Nat pulls out another flash drive and starts downloading all the files she can get her hands on.

“We’re on it,” Steve replies into the comms.

Natasha pulls the flash drive out of the computer and places it in a nearly invisible pocket in her suit. “The lab is secure and I’ve got the flash drive. Anyone need help?”

“I could use-” Clint’s sentence is cut off by a grunt as a Hydra agent manages to kick him in the knee. He’s at a disadvantage as the number of agents overwhelms him. 

Natasha doesn’t have to say anything to Pietro before he’s rushing her to Clint’s side. 

There are small burns all over Clint from the guns that Hydra has, something the two Shield agents have never seen before. The gun barrel glows a bright neon green with the same colored smoke coming off it. Clint grits his teeth from the sharp pain.

Natasha and Pietro make quick work of the agents, taking a few of the guns in the process. 

“What in the hell is this powered with?” Clint grunts as he stands up, grabs a dropped gun, and looks it over. “Is this that ectoplasm that Tony was talking about? It hurts like a bitch.”

Suddenly, a large explosion shakes the entire building and several alarms go off, bathing the hallways in red. A high-pitched scream echoes through the comms along with static and sharp crackling.

“What was that?” Tony shouts, sounding slightly distracted.

“Wasn’t from my end,” Natasha and Wanda say at the exact same time.

Clint and Natasha look at each other with concern on their faces. “Steve.”

~~~

“We’re on it,” Steve says, grunting as he takes a gut punch from an agent.

Bucky appears suddenly and picks the agent up. As if the guy weighs nothing, Bucky throws him at a wall, swings around, and punches another agent in the face with a harsh crunching noise. With a practiced elegance, the two super soldiers dance around each other with ease, each fending off a blow that was aimed at the other. They’d spent so much time together that they knew each other's movements without having to communicate it.

By the time they’ve gotten the agents taken care of, the floor is littered with bodies. Most are unconscious but there are a few who met the wrong end of Bucky’s guns. There are scorch marks mixed in amongst the blood splatters along the walls from these new weapons, but Steve and Bucky’s bodies are already healing, leaving behind red welts instead of burns. 

“We need to hurry, Steve,” Bucky says. “If Hydra has done to this kid even half of what they did to me, then we’re going to be in for a rough time. We have to hope that they haven’t been able to activate him.” Bucky continues in the direction they were headed before they got ambushed.

“What do you remember about this kid, Bucky?” Steve asks as he takes off after him.

“He wasn’t human. They made him wear this thing that prevented him from using his powers. It was a collar but it would inject him with this poison so that he was too weak to escape. They made me train him to fight without any of his abilities so I don’t know what he can actually do.” Bucky grimaces slightly as he continues. “They were still trying to turn him into an obedient little soldier when I left. Something about his physiology prevented the chair from being completely effective.” He sounds regretful. His role in this made him ashamed even if it wasn’t his fault.

“Did they try and add any…accessories to him like they did with you?” Steve asks.

“I don’t know. Well, I don’t remember,” Bucky replies.

They slow down as they come to a section of the building on the northwest side. It’s glowing slightly with the same neon green that came from the Hydra weapons. Steve’s pretty sure that this is the correct area, but he doesn’t want to be wrong and come across another new weapon that Hydra has made. 

The hallway they’re in is filled with steel doors. There must be about fifty doors lining both sides of the hallway with no markings on most of them. Bucky and Steve each cautiously open a door and find that the room inside is an empty cell. 

The rooms are dark, with only the light from the hallway shining in letting them see just how barren it was. The only things in the rooms were a simple toilet, sink, and bed. Leaving the door open, Bucky and Steve move on to the next room.

They check room after room, only to find them all empty. When Bucky gets to a door marked with a number, he whistles to get Steve’s attention.

The room is locked and they don’t have the time to find the keys, so they try to bust down the door. With both of them kicking down the door at the same time, it finally dents inward enough to peel away from the walls. Both of them grab a side and pull, using the entirety of their strength until they’ve ripped the door off the hinges.

Inside is a kid who looks like they’re on their deathbed. They’re lying on the bed with their back to Bucky and Steve. Neither Bucky nor Steve can hear a heartbeat, but the kid doesn’t stop them from coming into the room.

This room is brighter than the others, a soft green light bathing everything in a sickly glow.

“Hello?” Steve walks forward cautiously.

The kid doesn’t move and they still can’t hear a heartbeat. When Steve finally gets over to the kid, he puts two fingers on their neck to check the pulse. There’s no heartbeat and the kid’s skin is cold to the touch. With a sad sigh, Steve leaves the kid where they are and turns to Bucky. Bucky looks upset when Steve shakes his head, but there’s nothing either of them can do, so they move on.

They quickly realize that the doors with no markings are all empty, so they only go after the doors with markings. With each unmoving kid that they find inside, the super soldiers become more and more hopeless. It isn’t until they get to the end of the hallway that they realize that they only have one door left, and with it, all their hope that the person inside is alive.

Steve and Bucky rip the door off its hinges, but before Steve can walk inside, Bucky puts a hand on his chest to stop him.

Inside the center of the room is a glowing boy, kneeling and chained to the floor. He can’t be more than 17 or 18. His hair is pure white and floats as if gravity has no hold on it. His eyes are clenched shut and he looks absolutely terrified. There’s a thick metal collar around his neck that hangs around his neck tightly. Chains hang from his wrists and ankles, leading to several metal loops in the floor, all tightly drawn so that he’s forced to kneel.

The kid has no shirt on and looks malnourished, his ribs practically poking through his skin. Wounds and bruises cover every inch of exposed skin, making it hard to tell if the slight green from his skin is natural or if all the injuries cause it. The poor boy is hunching over as much as he can with the chains attached.

Bucky takes a step forward into the room, but it’s Steve that calls out gently. “Phantom?”

A sharp intake of breath comes from the kid and he flinches. He opens his eyes and his gaze immediately locks on to Bucky. Panic and terror flood through his glowing emerald eyes as Phantom starts jerking viciously on his chains.

“Nononononono.” Phantom cries over and over again, desperately trying to get away from the person in front of him. “I’ll be good. I swear. I’ll do better this time. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. Please don’t hurt me. I swear. I’ll be good. I’ll do it right. Whatever you want.”

Anguish twists Bucky’s expression as he listens to the teen’s frantic pleading. He’s frozen to the spot watching the tortured soul trying to break free of his prison. What did they do to this kid? he thinks. Fuck. What did I do to him?

Steve slowly walks past Bucky, towards the struggling boy. With all his strength, he crushes the collar and rips it off Phantom’s neck. It takes Phantom only a few seconds to realize he no longer has the steel wrapped around his neck, but when he does, it’s like his whole demeanor shifts.

There’s a cunning gleam in his eyes and with a deep breath, Phantom screams loud and clear. The sound is deafening, forcing both Bucky and Steve to cover their ears. Phantom stops and takes an even deeper breath and the scream becomes something more. 

It’s a banshee scream that sends Bucky and Steve flying back through the doorway they’d walked through. They’re sent flying all the way out of the room into the opposite side of the hallway with such force that they dent the wall. The longer the wail goes on, the more the walls start to shake, until the walls are shaking so much that debris rains down onto Bucky and Steve. They’ve just managed to get themselves up when a loud explosion suddenly erupts in front of him, knocking them back into the same wall with such force that they’re knocked unconscious. Their bodies slowly slide down to the floor, and the last thing they hear is someone screaming their names.

[claudemblems]

Jealous, Jealous | Wanderer + Itto Drabbles

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Summary: A man tries his luck with you only to end up on the receiving end of your boyfriend's wrath. Fem!Reader.

Notes: Itto's was so fun to write. He really does give off golden retriever energy 😭

Wanderer

The Wanderer may have sworn off his once violent and vengeful days, but the idea of taking the pathetic human being in front of him and burying him in the ground was a very tempting idea indeed.

“I’ll be all right going off on my own,” you’d told him, smiling without a single care in the world. Honestly, your naivety astounded him. Why did you feel the need to put blind trust into every person that you met? Didn’t you know that human beings are selfish creatures that don’t stop until they get what they want? That though they appear kind on the outside, they’re hiding a monstrous face underneath? All humans are the same in the Wanderer’s eyes.

Well, all but you, of course, and the Wanderer was determined to keep you untouched by the darkness of this world. 

That included shielding you from the worm that decided to try his luck with a taken woman.

"Please, sir, I'm not interested. I have a boyfriend."

"I can treat you much better than he can, sweetheart. All you have to do is give me a chance."

"I already declined. Please leave me alone…"

Just as the man's hands were about to meet your shoulders, he was sent flying backwards by a gust of wind, landing on the ground with a loud thud.

"W-What was that?!" the man yelped, his expression contorted in pure terror.

"Retribution."

The Wanderer's voice cut through the tense air like a knife as he hovered above the stranger, watching his face quickly drain of color.

"W-Who are you?" 

"I'm the boyfriend, and, if you don't make your way out of here in the next five seconds, your one-way ticket to the other side."

It didn't take any more convincing for the man to scramble to his feet and sprint away as fast as he could. He didn't even dare to risk a glance back in your direction, probably out of fear that it would be his last. 

"That’ll teach him a lesson," Wanderer hissed. He then turned to you, his gaze stern. "Don't go out by yourself again. Humans don't deserve you, especially when they're willing to take advantage of your kindness."

Gently taking hold of your wrist, the Wanderer pulled you alongside him as he began the trek back to your camp, no doubt biting back another lecture on his tongue. You'd learned your lesson, and that was enough to put him at ease. Still…

"I don't want to lose you, so stay vigilant. I'll take the world down with me if it ever tries to hurt you."

Relief washed over you as you placed your hand in his, squeezing it gently. "As long as you're here, I know I'll always be safe."

A small, brief smile appeared on the Wanderer’s lips at your words. "Yeah, yeah. Save the flattery for the next time I'm forced to give you a talking to."

Itto

Should you have been concerned that your boyfriend was in the background pouting like a sad, injured puppy, or was this just normal Itto behavior?

You weren’t sure what had managed to get him into such a dreary mood, but during times like these, you found it best to leave Itto to himself, giving him some space while still keeping the floor open for him to come and voice his concerns to you personally. However, upon closer observation, you realized that at some point his pouting had turned into a not-so-quite menacing glare. Who was on its receiving end? Well, it seemed as though it was the man in front of you. Oblivious to Itto’s irritation, the stranger rambled on and on about his skills in beetle fighting, declaring that he was one of the best fighters in the game. He went so far as to even invite you to attend one of his matches.

“Uh, that’s very…kind of you, but I’m not so sure my boyfriend would like me going to someone else’s game—”

“What does his opinion matter? I’m inviting you. You can speak for yourself, can’t you?”

“I mean, yes—”

“Then it’s settled! Meet me by the coast tomorrow at noon.”

You frowned. “Wait a minute. I never said yes—”

“You don’t have a reason to turn me down, do you? I’m just a nice guy inviting you out. What’s the harm in that?”

“You said I could speak for myself, yet you’re speaking for me!”

“Oh, come on! Stop being so stubborn—AH!!!”

You blinked, taken aback by the man’s sudden terror. “Um, what are you screaming about?”

“Little buddy here is afraid of the Grand, Mighty, Formidable Arataki Itto, the very loved and appreciated boyfriend of [Name].”

You turned your head to find Itto standing behind you with arms crossed, the expression on his face indicating that he was less than pleased with the scene unfolding in front of him. When did he get there? “You’ve had your fun you pesky little weasel. It’s time to mosey your way out of here before I put the Arataki Gang on your trail!”

“Y-Yes, sir! Sorry, sir!”

You hadn’t even had the time to process what had happened before the man had already fled.

“What was that all about?”

Itto sighed dramatically as he clutched his chest. “You didn’t realize that he was trying to flirt with you? Oh man, I need to step up my romance game if you can’t even recognize the signs of love. I clearly haven’t given you enough affection. Don’t worry, I’ll fix that! I’ll shower you in kisses. I’ll carry you around everywhere we go. I’ll even get a nice new beetle and paint your initials on it to prove that I care for you—” “Itto,” you laughed, taking your hands in his. “I didn’t notice because I didn’t care. Everyone in Inazuma knows I’m yours. It doesn’t matter who flirts with me. I’m not interested in anyone besides the Grand, Mighty, Formidable Arataki Itto.”

A grin broke out on Itto’s face as he pulled you into a tight hug. “That’s my girl! I love you so much! You’re the best girlfriend I could ever ask for!”

You giggled, returning Itto’s enthusiastic embrace. “I love you, too, Itto.”

[rhythmic-idealist]

About 9-10 months ago, everyone in this shop had grown to dread working with me or mentoring me.

(I started work in the diesel shop at the end of last August—it’s July now. Before that, my jobs had been preschool teacher, tutor, writer, grocery store cashier.)

My coworkers are making it clearer and clearer that they trust me and prefer working with me over working with several other techs. My new supervisor has told me over and over that he gives me shit that he needs done and done right, and it’s been so effusive that I’ve worried he’s faking it but it looks like it isn’t. I trust coworkers not to fake it. I have some write ups and my coworkers (we’re union) are talking abt how, while yes solidarity to everyone, they’re particularly committed to protecting me because they care about and appreciate working with me. I don’t even get to call myself dumb anymore without someone reminding me they don’t feel that way.

At this new job (well, still “the new job” in my brain, but it’s been almost a year) I’ve felt like the absolute stupidest person alive. For months I only survived it here by going home to my partners and saying “thank god for the feminists of yesterday, so that in 2024 even a woman can be the Homer Simpson of her workplace. thank god for the feminists of yesterday so even a woman can be the dumbest guy in the shop and still get paid.”

And I’ll be so real— that HAS BEEN so so important. That was genuinely really good! In 2024, at least where I live, a woman can be the Homer Simpson of her workplace. (I guess I can’t speak for non-union settings, but she at least can if she’s union.)

Learning is worth it. Wanting to learn is worth it. It was worth it anyway because it was keeping food on our table, to be clear— at every second I have been so goddamn glad I have this job and I have never been troubled by working it. But yeah I have been suicidal a couple times along the way in ways that we’ve later broken apart into “STOP LETTING YOUR JOB MAKE YOU FEEL THIS BAD.”

Anyway I intended to sort of vlog the process of switching careers into the trades and I’m now a little sad that I didn’t. Because a journey happened here. I really, really sucked shit at it for months and months before becoming consistent and good enough at my job that coworkers far above my skill level seek me out for help when they need an extra set of at-least-moderately-skilled hands. That I’m getting assigned trucks we need to push out the door.

Managers and coworkers alike used to dread me, for legitimately good reason, and now here we are.

I’m grateful for my new supervisor. He’s not haunted by everyone else’s first impression of me, and I was wondering what that was going to mean, and it turns out it means he’s impressed by me and has me pinned in his mind as someone able and willing to learn, since the start. He talks about me positively to the higher up management.

But the rest of the people I’m talking about are mostly people who have been here from the start. Who had the first impression and who have had to be convinced on the change— and who see it.

[lavenderbexlatte]

day 24 - orgasm control

nct 1.2k words gender neutral reader insert Reader x Jung Jaehyun NSFW

🖤 warnings: teasing teasing teasing, situationally strange banter, a slowwwww handjob, using a man’s very competitive nature against him for sexy purposes 🖤

kinktober masterlist

connect with me! / masterlist

Like most things, this gets much more interesting as soon as you frame it to him as a competition.

He's unstoppable when he has the opportunity to win. What winning means, in this scenario, is kind of unclear, but that doesn't seem to be holding Jaehyun back.

"Okay?" you check in.

"Fine."

A little heated, maybe, but he sounds fine.

One of the best things about Jaehyun is his low-maintenance personality. He's the kind of guy that goes where you ask, gives his opinions freely, and in more intimate matters, does whatever sounds the most fun in the moment. No stress. No worries about roles or strengths or his masculinity or other buzzkill things like that.

Which is why you figured he'd be down to give this a try. You just want to see how far he can take his cool and casual exterior.

The only rule, as you'd told him right up front, to an unimpressed dimpled half-grin, is that he only cums when you let him.

He'd said it was no problem, that he could handle himself. That maybe he'd even be able to convince you to go easier on him than intended with his adorable face and winning persuasion skills.

Doesn't seem like that's gonna happen.

"How long..." Jaehyun trails.

"Dunno."

You've got him on his back, on the laminate floor, in the sunlit and wide-open living room of your apartment. This wasn't exactly a planned dalliance, so you have to make do. Sometimes just watching a movie next to someone as infuriatingly hot as Jaehyun makes your mind wander, it's not your fault.

"You're - ah - you're going to want to get off, too, you know," Jaehyun says.

You shake your head. "I'm good."

"Come on, you don't even want me to-"

"Nope."

"But that thing I can do with my-"

"Baby, you know full well that I don't need to do anything but this to have fun."

Negotiation tactic number 17, failed.

He really is so pretty, though. Pretty enough that you can forgive any and all mental warfare.

Nude and shameless, lean masculine body lines sprawled on your floor, head tipped back and jaw working as he tries to control whatever struggle is playing out inside. His cock, as pretty as the rest of him, standing tall, so hard that you're sure he's having a difficult time, poor baby.

You've been jerking him off with alternating lubed-up hands as consistently and agonizingly as you can manage, slow and in control, for maybe fifteen minutes. Maybe twenty. It's not like you're keeping track, but he very well might be.

"If this is too much, we can change up the game," you offer.

"I don't think anything you come with is gonna be easier."

"You're right," you say, sweet as pie.

Even so, he grins, lazy. "Lay it on me."

"Since you're obviously not a fan of not being allowed to cum, we could see how many times you can cum in a row, instead."

It's the same game, if you're being honest. You, with free rein to do whatever you want, to make him feel whatever you think he deserves to feel, and him trusting you to make the end result worth it. Just a different process. He's not taking back any control, and he knows it.

That's what makes it so fun.

"You know, that second choice doesn't sound any better," says Jaehyun.

"Those are your choices."

Even strung out, many steps into this game, Jaehyun's dry humor is on top form. "I wanna talk to whoever's making up these games. It's bullshit."

"Already on the line, pal. And that's all you're getting."

"Then I'm going higher up the ladder. Can I speak to the manager?"

"Oooh, speaking."

"Damn."

He's talking to distract himself, and you shouldn't be letting him. It's like cheating, basically.

"Are you close?" you ask.

"I've been close."

"You know you can't-"

"I won't," he insists.

He can't, if he wants to win, and Jaehyun likes nothing better than winning.

"Think about it," you say, increasing your pace infinitesimally, making sure to catch him with a good twist on the upstroke, the way he likes. "You can pick all or nothing, remember."

"Such great - shit - choices."

"I try to be fair, that way."

"How long has it been?" he asks, and it's strangled in a way that makes you proud.

He hasn't been keeping track, then. Huh.

"Maybe like twenty-five minutes?"

"I've lasted half an hour? That has to count for something," he whines.

You shrug as best you can without breaking pace. "The deal is that you don't cum until I decide you can. Endurance by the numbers means nothing."

"Goddamnit, cut me a break!"

Oh, he's getting touchy. His temper flaring, breaking through that perfectly patient and chill exterior, is such a lovely sign that you're fraying his nerves, pushing all the right buttons.

"Do you want to cum, baby?" you ask.

"Of course I do!"

"Do you want to admit you can't hang, and for me to let you cum?" you rephrase, smirking.

The look he gives you is a veneer of annoyance over the best kind of desperation. You know how badly he wants to win. That makes it all so much sweeter.

"You've done a good job," you placate, "Nothing wrong with admitting that I'm too good at this, that you just couldn't do it."

"I can do it."

His voice is so thin, frayed by your carefully relentless onslaught of pleasure. You're telling the truth, of course; he's done a great job.

"If you want to cum, you just have to say that you lost."

It's not an offer he's going to take easily, but it's what you're going to give.

Jaehyun pries open his eyes to fix you with a helpless stare. He hates losing. He hates saying it.

That's the point.

"Any time now," you say.

Just to be awful, you circle your palm over his swollen head, earning a choked-out groan in his deepest voice. You don’t expect that to be the kind of thing that would break him, but his hips jump, his abs tense.

"You win, you win!" he says, nearly babbles. "Jesus, fuck, you win, okay, I want to cum, I want-"

"That's not what I said," you grin.

"I can't-"

"Oh, you absolutely can. Just tell me that you lost."

He doesn't say it. You slow down, just enough so that he'll notice, just enough to let his incoming high wane, to warn him that you mean business with this one.

And finally, desperation wins.

"I lose."

Jaehyun is pretty quiet when he cums, and this time is no exception.

He looks a little different, though. Cheeks tinged a darker pink than usual, the color creeping up his ears, as if he's embarrassed by the way this has gone. It's cute, in a way, sweet, that he was taking it all so seriously.

It's just a game, after all.  

Once the haze of his orgasm has cleared, as you're wiping his cum off your hand onto his t-shirt - he's gonna get mad about that later - Jaehyun is already looking at you, jaw set and eyes firm.

"Let's go again. And this time, I'm gonna win."

[indiaalphawhiskey]

Hi, India!!

I’m writing my first fic for a fest and I was so excited about it. But I reread what I wrote so far and it’s just soooo bad 😭 I can’t think of anyone reading it, specially because english is not my first language and I fear my writing is not natural or fluid enough.

Do you have any advice on how can I take my mind out of this though and just write for pleasure as I used to? 🥲

Hey, love 💕

I’m sorry this took me awhile to answer. (I’m also not the most eloquent right now, I’m sorry.) Honestly, it’s a little funny that you chose to ask me this question, because I’m notorious for being very, very in my head about my writing and being consistent about quality.

To be fair to that, and to you, I’m going to try and give you a handful of answers, from different perspectives. They can be taken together or separately or not at all, whatever suits.

First, most importantly, and most pragmatically:

1. Get a beta you trust.

I know the face of this fandom has changed, I know content creation has dwindled and that less and less people are able to support writers this way, but honestly, for me, this is more important than almost anything about the writing process, and especially so if you’re writing in your second, third, fourth language. There are just too many nuances to language and verbiage, and it helps so much for someone to say “I know what you meant here, but it doesn’t read like that.”

(I don’t believe in ever letting my work go unbeta-ed, no matter how confident I feel in the raw work or the language, because of course I know what I meant to say — I’m the writer. I need some to firmly (but kindly) check that the audience understands it as well.)

Betas also help in terms of managing self-criticism, because being hard on yourself is just not always something you can change, especially if you care about the story and skill-building. A good beta will help by either saying “it’s not bad, you’ve just read it too often, put it down” or “why do you think it’s bad exactly” and help you improve it.

Second, on the concept of writing for pleasure:

2. Just because something is hard doesn’t mean it’s not fun.

People often mistake “fun” for “easy”; I don’t think it’s the same. I think when you enjoy something and are passionate about it, it’s going to cost you and force you to push yourself. There’s no such thing as “low-stakes passion”, that’s just incongruous. (Marathon runners don’t keep running races that are easy for them. They progress because they like it — process, challenges, rewards, everything.)

Similarly, you clearly write because you love it. But if you’re getting to the point where you’re cognizant enough to be self-critical, that means you’re improving. It means there are things you want to convey that your skill doesn’t allow you to yet.

Hold on to that, because that’s motivation. It means that you love something enough that you’re consumed with doing it justice. That tension is not a bad thing; that’s where a hobby turns into a passion and the solution is not about regressing back to something low-stakes — it’s about finding out how to bridge the gap between your skill and your ambition.

And third, focused on the output:

3. Focus on how much you want your story to exist.

Most of the time, writing is a long game. It’s about consistency and effort and focus and discipline, and all of those things are tiring as fuck.

It’s so much easier to bang out a drabble and get the validation, and move onto the next “fun” idea. And that’s totally fine, except for when you want this particular story to exist this particular way.

I’ve found that’s the only thing that pushes me to stay motivated and devoted to writing — the thought that I just want this story to exist and I don’t want to live in a world where it doesn’t.

My boss always says this thing: “let the content lead”, and I think that’s true of writing. If you’re focused on weaving this idea into something tangible, if that’s mainly what drives you, the relationship stays between you and the story (not the story and it’s external reception) and that can alleviate the pressure a lot, because you shift into writing to fulfill an internal goal, and as long as that story exists, you’ve achieved that.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, I think all of your concerns are valid. You have a very practical issue: the language barrier, that needs a very practical solution: a beta. But you’re also hitting a moment of growth in terms of your writing, and I don’t want you to look at that hurdle and assume it means you need to turn around. Things can be hard and also fun, and I wouldn’t want the fandom to miss out on this version of this story that can only be written by you just because you’ve outgrown your current skill set.

Lastly, and I think this is really important: remember that this is never going to be your last fic. So if it’s not perfect — if it’s not exactly the way you want it to be at the end — write another one that’s better, and another, and another. There’s room in this fandom for every version of you as a writer, and your chances to improve and represent yourself better are infinite. Write what you can write now, and then write something better later. 🩷

[raven-of-domain-kwaad]

For Amélie Biava - When you met Amarra, you were Imperial Intelligence and she was a powerful Sith Lord, with little if any restrictions on how she could treat you. With such a disproportionate power dynamic, how did things wind up going the way they did for you?

OC Interview

Thanks for asking @swtorpadawan!

Amélie leans back in her seat and chuckles darkly.

“Yeah that’s a fair question. I sometimes ask myself how I managed to swing it with the damned Wrath of all people. Talk about out of my league and a huge threat to my life.”

She hums faintly and gently thumbs at the polished band of black metal on her finger.

“I fully admit that I didn’t trust her when we were first properly introduced. I mean it’s like you were saying, Sith can do what they want and the Wrath? She sits outside of the Sith hierarchy and answer to no one but the Emperor. She even has enough authority to challenge the Dark Council. So really what chance did I have if I wanted off her ship?”

Her eyes become hard, clearly recalling stories of others that suffered at the hands of mad Sith but she shakes her head before continuing on.

“Now with any kind of relationship it takes all parties involved to make it work but I will say that she did most of the initial heavy lifting to try and reach out to me. Just looking at her crew spoke volumes about her. How many Sith do you know that have a free twi’lek with more tech skills than a Fixer, a Black Ops squad on perpetual standby, a former Jedi apprentice that happily engages in philosophical and political debates with her new master and a sadistic assassin droid? Hm... actually forget the droid. Lots of Sith would probably have an HK unit if they could. But the others? You won’t find many Sith that actually have a crew like that who are all loyal and don’t just trust but love the Sith that they follow.”

She sighs and stares wistfully off at nothing.

“You hear old stories of noble Sith and their cherished followers. Old Korribani and Ziosti legends of Sith protectors defending those that they love. Most of those stories are lost to time and Republic purges but the romanticism of those tales endure... Of all the Sith in the Empire, I've found that Amarra embodies those old tales more than anyone I’ve ever seen. She cares about those under her command and that apparently extended to me.”

A genuine smile spreads across her face, reaching her eyes and even causing her body to relax. Her deep sense of gratitude is very clear.

“So, like I was saying, once I was finally out of the kolto tank, she reached out to me. I've often wonder if she could sense that I didn't trust her and that made her reach out. Whatever the reason, she offered to find me a doc to clone me a new hand after I lost mine on Corellia. She also gave me the chance to transfer to any command I wanted. I could write my own ticket and go anywhere I wanted. She didn’t even know me at the time, just wanted to help out another Imperial citizen.”

Her eyes return to her wedding band and she cannot stop smiling.

“After looking at my options and taking a serious look at her file- which can I just say, was damned impressive? Defeated a well known Jedi Master before being named a Lord, took out the Republic War Trust, killed a Dark Councilor, won the initial battle for Corellia and personally ended a coup led by her former Master. And never once did she ever act out of personal gain. She had no interest in personal power and only wanted to serve the Empire. What an ideal,” she says with what could only be described as hearts in her eyes.

“So, I chose to stay on and became her official pilot and unofficial liaison to what was left of Imperial Intelligence before Sith Intel got set up. I worked hard getting her whatever information I could, because I felt she was the best chance the Empire had for moving forward. She took notice and made sure that my actions were always commended. Got a promotion thanks to my work and she eventually started trusting me with more responsibilities, even putting me in charge of her own personal spy network she took from her old master."

She pauses then and her face scrunches faintly as if in sympathy, likely due to truly understanding just how stressful a position like Keeper's had been, managing so many agents.

"So, truth? I got lucky. I could have died at the hands of my captors on Corellia, honestly that's probably what was supposed to happen, knowing the last two Keepers. But I was lucky because she found me. If I had been found by anyone else in the Empire, I probably would have been court martialed for being on an unsanctioned intelligence operation. But she got to me first. And I must say, I am eternally thankful that she did."

[featherandferns]

Here's a snippet from my latest 18k fic!

“Hey, you’re Kie’s friend, right? That chick in the band?”

Assuming somebody’s talking to you, you look up, to the right, and come eye to eye with JJ. Your mouth instantly goes dry like the Sahara.

“Yeah,” you say. You’re trying to smile but it’s like the muscles in your face have gone lax. Why are you so Goddamn inept sometimes?

“I’m JJ,” he says, fixing his cap. “We met at The Wreck?”

“No, I know,” you tell him. You don’t mean for it to sound rude – merely stating a fact that of course you know who he is – but through your nerves, it sounds clipped. Like he’s bothering you.

JJ nods, a little awkward himself now. “No, yeah, of course.”

Just as you’re willing up the guts to apologise for your hopeless social skills, JJ’s filling the silence once more.

“You fish?”

“What?”

“Do you like fishing?”

What a weird question. “No.”

“Oh,” he says. He glances around. “Then…Why are you in a fishing shop?”

Oh. Yeah, duh.

“Oh, my dad does,” you say, lifting the list to show him. JJ’s eyes skim it briefly and he nods, quietly letting out an ‘ah’. “Asked me to pick some stuff up for him.”

Oh God, shut up.

“Well, this place is a pretty good spot to go for your gear,” he tells you.

“Do you fish?”

And, good job, you’ve managed to ask a normal question.

JJ smiles and it seems as if he’s relaxing into himself again. It makes you feel easier too; it’s always painful when your awkwardness rubs off on others, like the spreading of a disease.

“Yeah, I do. My whole family were fishermen and stuff. Can’t remember a time when I wasn’t fishing,” JJ says.

Whilst you prepare yourself to ask more about his family, and what sort of fishing he does, JJ’s flashing you a friendly grin and nodding down to your list.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to it. Hope you find everything.”

“Oh. Yeah, thanks. Um, you too,” you reply.

You final have enough control of yourself to smile at him. It might be your delusions contorting your perception, but you’re sure JJ’s smile grows a bit brighter when you do.

Turning away, you go back to staring hopelessly at the box in your hand. The front is raving about the benefits of this style of hook, reeling of jargon as if trying to impress a university professor. It’s useless. Not only are your thoughts now hijacked by overthinking everything you said in that conversation, and the fact that JJ Maybank spoke to you on his own agenda; you still haven’t learnt anything about fishing in the last five minutes. You’ll just get a receipt and your dad can come back and fix whatever mess you make of this seemingly easy errand.

“You gonna buy those?”

JJ’s still there, stood at your side. He’s looking at the box from over your shoulder. You look up to him.

“Yeah?”

“Those ones are pure crap. No, no, you want the good stuff,” JJ tells you, shaking his head.

He takes the box from your hand and replaces it with another, from a higher shelf. Tapping on the cover, he begins to read off some of the hooks’ perks (who knew there could be so many?).

“I mean, they’re a little more expensive but you get more bang for your buck, you know? Those other ones’ll snap after like four days on the water.”

When he looks back into your eyes, he must see the blank look behind them. He laughs. “Just trust me on this.”

“Okay,” you say, finding a laugh.

“Here, what else’s on your list?” JJ asks, taking the scrap of paper from you.

You don’t complain. Being in his orbit feels like you’re seeing the earth from space; even if it’s just him helping you buy fishing gear, there’s no way you’re going to pass up this opportunity.

Here's the fic here!

[sabraeal]

In Plain Sight, Chapter 7

[Read on AO3]

Obiyukiweek 2023, Day 4: Rejection

Silence falls so thick over the line that even the fuzz from Obi’s side blots out; a total eclipse of sound. It doesn’t click, not the way it does when a call’s been lost-- or worse, severed completely from the other end-- but Shirayuki’s heart pounds so loud in her ears that she can’t trust whether or not she would have heard it if it did. Maybe she’s just been standing here for minutes, holding onto a call long over while paperwork’s churning to make her into someone else’s problem, someone who knows how to deal with a girl who can’t—

“Sorry, Miss.” The word breathlessly fans into static; she’s so happy to hear him that she forgets to flinch. “Connection must have gotten dropped there. Who is this fiancé of yours?”

“You.”

“Ahh...so I did hear that right,” he mutters wearily. “And you’re sure that it’s...? I mean, your neighbors, they think I’m...?”

“Martha-- Mrs Kino, I mean-- she talked to the movers--” Obi groans, a really, terribly distracting noise-- “and she said that they said that when they were hired, it was a man on the phone. And since I don’t have a job lined up, she assumed...?”

Someone had to be paying for it. Not many people would jump to Uncle Sam.

“Right, right.” A sigh fizzles over the phone. “You’ve got a real nosy neighbor there, Miss.”

“I’m sorry.” The mattress at her back is the perfect firmness, but at times like these she wishes it were enough to swallow her whole. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“No, no. It’s not your fault.” At least this time he sounds amused as well as put out. “That’s just how they make ‘em out here in the greatest state in the union. It’s not like we send you out into the world with top class espionage skills so you can trick the grandma next door.”

No, but she doubts Agent Anda would be pleased to know she tripped right out of the starting gate. “I know, but still. I’ve become a real handful, and I’m sure you’d rather be--”

“Trust me, Miss.” She feels rather than hears the drop in his voice, hitting the register that makes every hair stand up on end. A shiver courses down her spine, and it’s strange that it feels so...good. “Handling you is the highlight of my day. I just always thought I’d be taken out to dinner first. You know, before any marriage proposals.”

“Oh.” She probably shouldn’t be so breathless on what’s, ostensibly, a professional phone call. “Right. Did you want--?”

“Is that all your neighbor knows?”

She blinks. “Um...?”

“That there was a man who hired the movers,” he clarifies, the distant sound of clacking keys filling the silence his voice doesn’t. “I helped you into the house on the first day, did she indicate that I must be your husband, or...?”

“Uh, I don’t...think so?” Though Martha Kino seems like the exact sort of woman who might sit on that sort of information, if only to pull it out as a cute story at a baby shower. “I told them I moved in on my own. You’re supposed to be on a business trip.”

It’s luck and the last shred of her common sense that manages to swallow, and a very good kisser too. It’s bad enough that she can’t forget his stint as Hot Airport Boyfriend, but him knowing she can’t? What pride she has shrivels just thinking about it.

“Right. Right, okay.” His voice gains solid footing now, picking up speed as he tells her, “Don’t worry, Miss. Just let me handle it. I know the perfect husband material.”

*

The sun’s still up when Shirayuki jolts awake, her mouth dry and sticky and tasting like something might have crawled in and died. A terrible beat drums right behind her temples; when she levers up to her elbows, it pounds loud enough her head swims.

Ah, right, water. She needs to hydrate. Because she drank her weight in margaritas at lunch. Aspen may have a face that could be committed to stained glass, radiant halo and all, but those cocktails of hers— well, if any of the folk around here held with the idea that demons could come to you in the guise of an angel, two drinks of that stuff would be proof positive. It’s been years since she’s had anything but a single glass of the fruitiest, most mixed drink at the bar, and yet she’d been tempted into not just one of those margaritas, but—

Shirayuki blinks against the throbbing behind her eyes. Two, wasn’t it? One when she first sat down, another when the sweet tea was just a little too sweet for her tastes. Enough to flirt with her limits, but not dip over-- at least, not at the backyard barbecues back home, or lab happy hours. But maybe now that the humidity could take the Feels Like temperature over three digits, her well-known tipping point has inched itself a little closer to the starting line.

It’d be the best explanation for how terrible her mouth tastes. Shirayuki had never been much of a drinker, not even in her grad school days, but there’s been at least a morning or two where she’s woken up after just one drink too many, and well, it has a flavor just like this. But with only a pre-dinner nap, she can’t have earned this one, not when she couldn’t have possibly had anymore, not after—

Oh god, she told all of them that she had a fiancé. Not just any fiancé, of course, oh not, but a tall, tanned, expert kisser, and she…

Here. Aspen’s angel smile bares teeth. Looks like you might need one of these for the road.

Ah, well. That would definitely explain that. At least it’s nothing a good, carb-heavy dinner couldn’t fix, once the room stopped sloshing at the edges.

With a groan, Shirayuki drags herself upright, wincing at the light leaking through the edges of the blind. Can’t have been sleeping for long if it’s still that bright—

Something slips from the folds of her sheets, clattering onto the floor. Ah, her phone. Of course. Because she’d gotten in the door, and Obi’s sixth sense for trouble must have tingled. He’d called in just to check in, and she…

Shirayuki blinks down at her pillow, at the damp patch where she must have drooled, and— and she doesn’t remember ending the call. Only that one moment she was talking, and the next she was waking up, this foul taste in her mouth. Which could only mean that he— no, that she—

She’d just fallen asleep, mid-call. Like she was some— some small child who wandered off to nap. Oh, she can just imagine the way he’ll grin the next time she sees him, all his long limbs folded over her counter, saying something like, at your size I’m not surprised you need a little nap to make it through the day. And he’ll look at her all sly, all casual, like he wants her to circle the whole of the kitchen to step on his toes, to bunch his shirt in her fists and tell him just what someone her size can do. He’ll look at her like an invitation because—

Oh god, because he’s supposed to. That’s how fiancés look when they’re in their lover’s house. Like they belong.

Her head crashes into the cradle of her palms. Less than a week ago, Shirayuki couldn’t even see the appeal of a kiss, and now here she is, thinking about putting her hands on some— some stranger in hopes he might bend down and let her figure out whether her first try was some fluke, or— or something else. Something almost as terrifying as being hustled out of her home in the dead of night and told that if she wanted to live to see thirty, she’d need to be someone else.

It’s…a lot. Too much. And now he’s her fiancé on top of it all, because she’s never bothered to learn that real life doesn’t give extra credit just for choosing to make it harder.

A sigh slips from her as she crouches, just enough to rescue her phone from where it’s skittered under the bedskirt, and— ah, not the best idea. Not when she’s clearly a few hours out from her last sip of something non-alcoholic. But she’s come too far to turn back now. Oma didn’t raise a quitter.

She didn’t raise a lightweight either, but that’s apparently what she’s got; Shirayuki gets to her knees, trying to get her hand around the edge of the case, and ugh, her stomach rolls up toward her throat, bile burning in the back of her throat, and—

Bzz. Bzz. Bzz. The case beats a soft tattoo against her fingers, muffled but where the screen’s pressed to the floor, and when she flips the screen up, Sugar Daddy blazes across her notifications. meet here @ 11

Sitting back on her heels— ugh, bleh, that position’s not much better— Shirayuki squints into the glare. She can’t possibly be reading that right. Eleven? Tonight? It’s about the mission, she’s sure, it’s just—

It would look bad, wouldn’t it? A young woman slipping out of her house that close to midnight while her partner’s out of town? Reads much less like a professional business meeting, and more like a, er, well, booty call.

Gears churn as she thumbs through to her messages, trying to make teeth catch. It just— it doesn’t make sense. Leaving so late will only put grist in the rumor mill, reaching its peak when her prodigal  fiancé arrives, seemingly none the wiser. Unless, of course, he’s relying on that— on the neighbors thinking there’s a third wheel to their bicycle, one that can be disastrously revealed at the most dramatically appropriate moment, and he can go straight back to being her handler, and she can be—

Ah, her messages are finally open. And there’s Obi’s, right at the top— the only, besides a few utilities and some spam— and his latest is already bold in the preview. It unfurls when she swipes over it, mostly just her inquiry into her kitchenware, but the last line is still meet here @ 11. Just that. And, well…

“A link?” Her head tilts, but that does nothing to clarify the context. When she clicks, the map app opens, pointing her straight toward a— “Panera?”

Well, he had said he would like to get taken out to dinner first. She just thought Agent Obi might have higher standard. “Are those even open that late?”

Maybe they are for government employees. Or maybe they keep someone on staff there, just for these sorts of clandestine conversations, the kind that can’t happen over phone lines or during regular business hours. Or—

Her eyes flick up, a reflex more than a conscious thought, catching the time at the corner of the screen. 9:23, it reads, and there’s something about it that makes her take a second glance. The light pouring in from her windows, maybe, too bright for evening, even this far into spring. Or possibly the taste in her mouth, too strong to be from only a few hours of sleep. Whatever it is, her gaze lingers this time, squinting at where the number crouch in the corner, and—

“AM?” she squeaks, stumbling to her feet. “I’ve slept all day?”

With a wild sweep of her arm, she opens the blinds, the bright light of day filtering through, and oh, ah— there’s Mrs Kino, tending her garden. She looks up, a smile wrinkling the corners of her eyes, and waves.

“Haah…” Shirayuki sighs, weakly waving back. “I think…I need to get in the shower.”

*

It’s just lunch.

That’s what she tells herself as the spray pelts her back, water blurring her vision as she hastily scrapes a razor up her leg. It’s just a professional, business lunch at a chain restaurant. Not even a true sit-down experience, but…fast casual, the sort of thing that might make a nice date in undergrad, when you don’t have the time or the resources to do much besides look at each other for an hour.

Certainly nothing that she needs to put herself out for, she thinks as she skims lotion up her thighs, spreading the scent of passionflower and hibiscus far past any decent hemline. Not that she’s worried about that— hemlines and what might go past them. No, it’s just…it had been a while since she shaved, and if you shave, then you have to hydrate, and if she’s going to pamper herself, well, her nicest moisturizer is a good start.

Because it’s not a date. It’s not even coffee. Not that she would have coffee, she reminds herself, flicking through her dresses. Caffeine gives her the jitters, and the last thing she needs is to make her hands any more unsteady, or her stomach any more unsettled. There’s no reason to worry about how so many of her nicer clothes fall more on the work-appropriate side of the fashion scale rather than, er…play appropriate. This is all just a…a preliminary meeting to go over the details of this whole situation. An exchange of information before he commits to this whole…fake engagement.

So there’s no need to look cute, she insists, tugging at her most stubborn flyaways in the rearview mirror. After all, then he might think she’s trying to impress him. And if he thinks she wants to impress him, he might assume that she’s attracted to him. That maybe she’s angling to repeat that kiss in the airport, the one that had sent static through every limb of her body, the one she can’t possibly forget—

And that would be ridiculous. Shirayuki doesn’t do attraction, at least not the way other people do. She doesn’t just look at someone and decide they might be nice to touch, or that maybe she wouldn’t mind if they leaned close enough for her to catch a hint of their natural scent, or quiver just at the idea that he might close the space between them, brushing his lips over hers as gently as he had the first time, swallowing her gasp whole as he coaxes her to—

Ah! She claps a hand to her cheek, glass door jingling shut behind her. Not even the air conditioning helps cool her flush. The last thing she needs is Obi to see her like this, flushed and trembling just from the thought of him. Which is good since, with a quick scan of the shop, Shirayuki knows…

He’s not here.

*

There’s an explanation for this, she’s sure. He could be late, for one; Obi doesn’t strike her as the sort of person who feels the need to be fifteen minutes early to be on time. So it makes sense that he could simply be lagging few minutes behind, caught up in a traffic snarl or running a little after schedule because he wanted to catch the last few minutes of a show. He could even be in his car right now, tangled up in the tail end of a story on NPR, just wanting to hear whether or not the girl on antimalarials ever regained her memory, or if that illegally adopted baby from Korea ever actually found his parents.

There, a half-dozen reasons right off the top of her head for him to be elsewhere. And still, she can’t shake the feeling that she’s been, well, stood up.

“Ah, excuse me?”

She blinks. Oh, she’s standing right in front of the door.

“Sorry,” she blurts out, barely thinking. A shuffle scoots her clear of the vestibule. “Wasn’t paying attention.”

“Hah, no, that’s not…” The man beside her huffs out a laugh, shoving a hand through a mop of blond so pale she’s only ever seen it on kids under three. 

“You must be Shirayuki.”

That gets her attention. “Who…?”

There’s nothing about that boyish face that says mobster, but that doesn’t mean much, when she hasn’t seen any outside of The Departed. Still, there’s no snake tattoo crawling up his wrist— one of the sure signs of one of Umihebi’s men, according to Agent Anda— his nice button down only baring milky pale skin up to the elbow. And there’s no malice in his smile, only teeth so white she swears they sparkle, and eyes that crinkle at the corners, so dark a blue she almost mistakes them for black.

“Sorry, I’m doing this all backwards. I’m Zen.” He thrusts out a hand, palm refreshingly cool against hers. “Zen Wisteria. And I believe I’m your” —his smile hooks up at one side, as bashful as the little bounce he does on his toes— “future husband.”

Shirayuki blinks at him. What had Obi said on the phone yesterday? I know the perfect husband material.

“Excuse me,” she murmurs tightly. “But I think I’d like your badge number.”

[borathae]

DONE WITH ANOTHER EXAM u know what that means???

Chapter 34

fuck where is yoongi 😭😭😭kook come to ur senses please

OMG YOONGI wait did he just come because of kook, bruh we could have made out like a week ago 😔✊🏻

omg im so scared and nervous i wanna cry even tho its kook being scolded

NO DONT KILL HIM WTF YOONGI NO

“Thanks, but I can manage myself. I did so splendidly in the last two weeks” fr

He made you believe that he abandoned you. And now he is back. the entire para just summed up what we all felt Your anger feels so misplaced. Yoongi had a lot going on. After a millennia he felt again. He must have been so overwhelmed. Who knows what guilt and pain he went through those past two weeks. that is also true and idk what to feel aaaah feeling the pain of both people. DAMN U JUST PORTRAYED THAT SO WELL AND SUBTLE I DIDNT EVEN REALIZE IT

Where are those goddamn band aids FUCKING REAL U CAN NEVER FIND IT WHEN U NEED IT and u will find it in the same room, same drawer a week later 🥲

You made him turn his emotions on. It was your fault that he left in the first place. Be angry at yourself, that’s what you should do. its not exactly your fault, just a situation that had to happen

“Stupid bathroom!” you yell, throwing another cabinet closed. #justiceforcabinet2024

wow why is he so chill all of a sudden *trust issues be working on overtime

Is that what Jungkook could have too? 😭😭 yoongi pls dont leave again, i wanna be extra proud of kook

oh kook is sleeping for now (wtf i felt like a mama bird for a second there)

“Yes?” he exclaims, turning around almost excitedly. sir whats going on?? is it the emotions??? omg he is a pookie pls i love him bing bang boong forgiven already, who left for 2 weeks? nobody, idk such a thing

Now that he is so close again, you have forgotten everything you had wanted to tell him. oh it wasnt just me lol

“Doesn’t matter, I’m back now”, OK THATS IT FOLKS HE IS GOING TO LEAVE AGAIN 😭😭😭

oh a new plant 😭

Is he just staring? Oh dear. He is. PLEASE OUR SHY KITTY 😭😭

Oh how excited he sounds without even noticing that he does. 😭😭 do you want all of us to just cry every damn line? cuz u had done it

Yoongi is by your side, pretending to do the same while in reality he was looking at your face the whole time. HA SIMP ALERT (pls simp more we are simping for it)

“It’s not bad”, he agrees. You scoff, “such enthusiasm” Yoongi stumbles after you down the path, grumbling quietly. he is such a tsundere kitty i cant OFC HE LOVES HAND HOLDING NEVER LET GO

They are so bloody tiring” mood but numbness is too scary soo..

“They’re flowers, I don’t see any difference”, he grumbles, I LOVE HIM AND THE WAY YOU WRITE HIM I LOVE THEIR BICKER OVER SORRY HIS GRANDPA RUN AAAAH *watches a compilation

YOONGI BOONGI YAY HE ACCEPTED IT HAHA CUTIE PIE

“Forget it. I didn’t want to do it anyway”, i was cackling until i remembered this is how i act with mom, oh mom im sorry

YAY THEY ARE GOING GROCERY SHOPPING ALL DOMESTIC shit taehyung my baby 😭😭 THE JACKET RAAAAH

damn 1963, my mom wasnt born yet

no yoongi we dont growl here pls *blinks 😃😄😃 🫠 “he’s having a phase, please ignore him.” A PHASE STOP 😭

he is trying his hardest to stifle a laugh. THE JOKE PLS I LOVE HER HAHA guess he is going to have a hard time doing that

WE KISSED IN THE SNOW YIPEE YIPPEEE YIPPEEE YEEHAW HEE HOOO ✨🧚🏻🎆🎇💖😍🤩😻

ACCEPT THE COMPLIMENT YOONGLES YOURE A PRETTY MF GOT IT???

HOLY SHIT IT WAS A SPY DAMN WE JUST SAW A MURDER i literally just shivered

oh this time he answers her questions properly thats a difference hm

WTF OOF DAMN I - (did ever tell u that i love your writing and this bombastic story?)

It is not every day that you watch someone get beheaded or find out that someone wanted to fuck your dead body fr im still shivering and goosebumps are still there.

i love when they do vampire zoom haha

I’ve just lived long enough to have learned the skill.” Tae: 😃 ALSO IM SORRY YOONGI I LOVE THAT YOU CAME BACK but when is tae getting out?? 👉🏻👈🏻 great TAE MY BABY IM SORRY 😭😭 I CANT DO ANYTHING

“Are you manipulating me? she may or may not do that, but can she actually do that to you? yeah she cant so stop saying this

GREAT HE LEFT AGAIN WHERE ARE U NOW

i love when they talk, like everything just gets deeper, both her and him, the plot

OMG YOONGI wait did he just come because of kook, bruh we could have made out like a week ago 😔✊🏻

fjasdjf no he was genuinely in the midst of coming back when he suddenly heard the noises and then just came running 😭

He made you believe that he abandoned you. And now he is back. the entire para just summed up what we all felt Your anger feels so misplaced. Yoongi had a lot going on. After a millennia he felt again. He must have been so overwhelmed. Who knows what guilt and pain he went through those past two weeks. that is also true and idk what to feel aaaah feeling the pain of both people. DAMN U JUST PORTRAYED THAT SO WELL AND SUBTLE I DIDNT EVEN REALIZE IT

NO BUT I AM SO :( FOR BOTH OF THEM :((

You made him turn his emotions on. It was your fault that he left in the first place. Be angry at yourself, that’s what you should do. its not exactly your fault, just a situation that had to happen

the way you can see the learned guilt in her and in everything she does :(

wow why is he so chill all of a sudden *trust issues be working on overtime

I feel like he is just really nervous and trying not to scare her away with too much movement :(((

“Yes?” he exclaims, turning around almost excitedly. sir whats going on?? is it the emotions??? omg he is a pookie pls i love him bing bang boong forgiven already, who left for 2 weeks? nobody, idk such a thing

of course it's the emotions heheh <3 he is in loveeee <3

oh a new plant 😭

HE IS IN LOVEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Is he just staring? Oh dear. He is. PLEASE OUR SHY KITTY 😭😭

I LOVE HIGMMGMGM

Oh how excited he sounds without even noticing that he does. 😭😭 do you want all of us to just cry every damn line? cuz u had done it

jfasdjf me fr fjadsjfa

Yoongi is by your side, pretending to do the same while in reality he was looking at your face the whole time. HA SIMP ALERT (pls simp more we are simping for it)

HE IS SO SWEET AND CUTE AND IN LOVEEEEEE

“It’s not bad”, he agrees. You scoff, “such enthusiasm” Yoongi stumbles after you down the path, grumbling quietly. he is such a tsundere kitty i cant OFC HE LOVES HAND HOLDING NEVER LET GO

no but I love him so much!!!!!!

They are so bloody tiring” mood but numbness is too scary soo..

100% :( gosh my boongie :(

“They’re flowers, I don’t see any difference”, he grumbles, I LOVE HIM AND THE WAY YOU WRITE HIM I LOVE THEIR BICKER OVER SORRY HIS GRANDPA RUN AAAAH *watches a compilation

same same same !!! I love him so much !!!!

damn 1963, my mom wasnt born yet

lmaoa mine was like 2 and my dad 3 kfadkf

no yoongi we dont growl here pls *blinks 😃😄😃 🫠 “he’s having a phase, please ignore him.” A PHASE STOP 😭

THIS IS SO FUNNY TO ME BAHAHHAHAH

he is trying his hardest to stifle a laugh. THE JOKE PLS I LOVE HER HAHA guess he is going to have a hard time doing that

I LOVE HIM HE IS SO IN LOVEE

WE KISSED IN THE SNOW YIPEE YIPPEEE YIPPEEE YEEHAW HEE HOOO ✨🧚🏻🎆🎇💖😍🤩😻

I genuinely love this chapter so much 😭😭

HOLY SHIT IT WAS A SPY DAMN WE JUST SAW A MURDER i literally just shivered

HE IS SO COOL FOR MURDER THOUGH :)

i love when they do vampire zoom haha

lmaooa me

“Are you manipulating me? she may or may not do that, but can she actually do that to you? yeah she cant so stop saying this

I feel like she can JFAJDFJ he is way too smitten for her JFJADSFJ

i love when they talk, like everything just gets deeper, both her and him, the plot

SAME SAME SAME !!!! I LOVE THEMEEEEEE !!

[thiswasinevitableid]

Beasts (Sternclay)

Werebear wasn't a big winner in the polls, but I wrote some as a treat. It's NSFW, and there is some mention of breeding talk.

Joseph doesn’t believe in luck. 

Things happen for reasons varying from unfair to understandable. They have to. Because if they don’t, then his fathers sudden death and his sisters each losing their jobs two days before Joseph was supposed to set sail with a team of like-minded researchers for the farthest reaches of American West is all to do with unhappy chance and there’s nothing he can do to fix it or keep it from happening again.

Well, his dad can’t die a second time, but his mom hasn’t been well since his death. With Lily and Vivian frantically searching for work, it falls to Joseph to make enough in the meantime to keep everyone housed and healthy. 

So, no, stepping onto the Hayes Estate doesn’t make him feel lucky, no matter how many rare creatures he’ll encounter. He got here by his own skill and knowledge, not good luck. Which means all he has to do to help his family is not fuck up.

Lord William Hayes spends the better part of an hour showing him around the enclosed aviary, small aquarium, and stables. Joseph laughs in delight at the fur bearing trout and offers the pair cactus cats his hand to investigate, all the while taking notes on Haye’s instructions for their care. The lord and his servants had been managing on their own at first, but the collection is so large he needs a cryptid expert on staff to ensure it remains the best in the country. 

Joseph is deep in a bulleted list of cryptid sleep habits when they come to a gilded, double locked door. 

“This is the hall of great beasts. There’s only three right now but they are the pinnacle of my menagerie.” Hayes undoes the locks and ushers him into a white marble room with cavernous ceilings. There are three enclosures: two large ones on the east and west walls, and a third, smaller one on the north wall. The eastern one is full of plant life, lush and every shade of green, and the western one is filled with smooth, black stones and a trickling creek. And the smaller one is a square of silver bars on a platform, with a door leading back into an equally small, covered room. It contains a large, fur-covered object that Joseph can’t identify. 

Hayes blows a silver whistle and the cages on either side of them rustle. In the forested cage, a creature with horns and a woman’s face appears, gold hair ties messily atop her head. In the stone-filled one, a silvery, serpentine figure wriggles out from a back portion of the cage. 

The fur covered lump in the small cage raises its head, looking at them only a second before returning its chin to its paws. 

“That…that’s a werebear. You have a werebear, a leshen, and a dragon.”

“A pygmy dragon, but yes.”

Joseph chooses his words carefully, “I wasn’t aware anyone had these beings. It’s still being debated whether it’s legal to hold them captive at all.”

“And why is that?”

“Well, because they’re all human to a significant degree. They talk and think in the exact way you or I do.” 

“Yet they’re monsters all the same. And monsters are the purview of collectors such as myself. I trust their care will not be an issue for you?”

His conscience screams in protest as it’s crushed beneath the images of his mother rationing out her medication and Lily swearing that if this doesn’t pan out she’s getting a job in a cloth factory to tide them over.

“No, sir, not at all.”

He’s escorted from the room and spends the rest of his day being given the appropriate keys and moving his things into the small bedroom in the servants wing that’s his for the time being. Worry keeps him from sleeping for the bulk of the night, but he rises at when the clock chimes six.

The “great beasts” are the last on his list of morning rounds, and when he arrives only the werebear is within view. And that’s because his cage has no hiding place. 

Joseph starts with the Leshen, calling out “hello?” as he removes her food tray through a slot. When there’s no reply, he adds, “I’m Joseph Stern. I feel like we ought to have an actual introduction instead of Lord Hayes just…showing you to me. He didn’t even tell me your name.”

“Dani.” The voice comes from the ground across from him, and the Leshen peers out of a shrub, “and put your hand back. I’m not going to shake it. No offense.”

He places his hand back in his pocket, “None taken. It’s nice to meet you, Dani. Oh, here” he slides the new, covered tray through, “breakfast.”

“Porridge or pemmican?”

“Um, I’m not sure. I didn’t look.”

She waves him away and he goes, peeking under the next tray to see a bowl of porridge. This one is for the dragon, who is laying on his back in his anteroom, morning sun glinting on his scales. 

“Good morning-”

“Indrid” he lilts, not looking Joseph’s way, “My name is Indrid. I see the future, which means I will always be a little bit ahead of the conversation. And no, I cannot tell you how to make money or what date you will die.”

“That’s….well, that’s fascinating, honestly, but I’m not planning on asking anything like that. I’m-”

“-Joseph Stern” The dragon rolls over and stretches, then cocks his head, “a true cryptozoologist. Interesting. We had a bet going he’d hire a prison warden.”

Joseph does his best not to take that personally as Indrid prowls to the front of his enclosure. His scales are not just silver; they’re dotted with black on the underside and there are streaks of red on his wings, which matches the glowing red of his eyes. When the dragon passes him the empty tray through the open slot, the eyes stay on his face the whole time.

“Do you like Haye’s collection?”

Joseph meets his eyes, “So far I find it raises some interesting questions.”

The answer seems to satisfy the dragon, who takes the offered tray with a mild, “thank you” and returns to his sunny spot. 

In the cage, the werebear is so still Joseph is afraid he’s dead. Then there’s a long, drawn out huff and a wiggle of dark brown ears. 

“You’ve probably heard me introduce myself so I’ll skip that. What’s your name?”

There’s no reply. Joseph decides two out of three is a good start. When he opens the food slot to retrieve an untouched bowl of porridge, a large back paw kicks out, sending the contents through the gaps in the bars and all down his dress shirt. 

“Shit!” He tries to wipe it off and finds it horrifically sticky. There’s a muffled laugh from Dani’s cage, and Indrid’s snout is now poking around the side of the anteroom. 

“Barclay, such beastly behavior.” He snickers and then disappears. Joseph takes three, deep breaths, sets the new food through the slot, and goes to change his shirt. 

His interactions with the trio go much the same way for the next four and a half days. On the evening by the fifth day, he finds Barclay still hasn’t eaten anything. According to Indrid he hasn’t eaten in over a week. 

“He thinks that whatever is keeping him in his bear form is in the food. I have assured him this is not the case, as I see no future where his starvation leads to him becoming human again. But it is his choice.” Indrid’s tail flicks in an unfamiliar way as he clicks the claws of his hands together. The dragon is worried 

It’s that exchange, plus the raging headache he has from Hayes overwatering his hydra plant to the point it emitted distress vibrations, that drives his next decision.

“Barclay, please, you really need to eat something. A human can go ten days without food before there starts being a real issue and I don’t know how that translates to werebears. So please eat something.”

The werebear just stares at him from where he’s sitting against the other wall of bars. 

“If you don’t eat soon, I am coming in there and feeding it to you myself.”

In one leap, the monster is to him, claws reaching through the bars and yanking him forward by his waistcoat. Joseph’s face slams into the bars, the metal all that keeps him safe as Barclay snarls, “Try it, pretty boy. Fucking try it and I’ll make it so all you eat your dinner through a straw for the rest of your fucking life.”

He lets go and Joseph drops to the tiled floor. The room is dead silent as Barclay stalks into his cramped anteroom. It’s only when Joseph hurries out, heart pounding for more reasons than fear, that he hears Dani say, “nicely done.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------

It takes him until Sunday to get what he needs for his new plan. He also has to get up at four, but it’s nice to watch the sun come up through the little kitchen window. When he brings breakfast to the trio this time, he needs a dinner cart to get it there. 

He starts with Dani, sliding a bowl of grain salad and tray of flatbread into the cage. It’s when he slides in a tiny side-bowl that she actually appears. 

“Oh my god, is that what I think it is?”

“Haye’s files said you’re from a region where dill and spiced olive oil sauces are a favorite of Leshen cooks.”

“Really?”

“Well, his notes said where you were found. I figured it out from there.”

She picks up the meal, “Thanks, Stern.”

He smiles and pushes the cart over to Indrid, whose hands are flapping before he even tells him what he has. 

“Fruit! Oh where on earth did you find Star Melon?”

“Mr. Newton had a few in his garden. Which is weird, since I can’t imagine they’re easy to grow here.”

The dragon goes golden around his cheeks, “No, they are native to the hills near Sylvain. I haven’t had one in a long time.”

Stern’s heart tightens, scolding him even as he passes the plate into the cage. Dani has been here a year, Indrid nine months, and Barclay a little over one. And all that time no one bothered to feed them anything other than gluey porridge and stale pemmican. 

He approaches Barclay’s cage and uncovers the final plate. Steam curls up from a breakfast pie, one that’s barely in the cage before Barclay is picking it up and staring at it. Then he sniffs it an murmurs, “coriander” another sniff, “cinnamon” and another, “cheese?”

“The recipe said it’d make the end result richer. I wasn’t sure what food you might like best or be…missing. So I went with something that would be filling.”

Barclay picks up the wooden fork and knife Joseph was allowed to include, cutting carefully into the pie and studying his forkfull before taking a bite. After two more he swallows and says, “Crust is kinda tough.” It doesn’t feel like an insult. More like Barclay is solving a puzzle. 

“I’m not much of a baker.” 

“Don’t work it so long next time.” He sits down, cross-legged, and sets the plate in his lap, “I’m not gonna thank you for doing the bare fucking minimum for us. But” he takes another bite and there’s a glimpse of a smile, “this is still good.”

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------

“If you want such accommodations you will have to demonstrate you can behave.”

This is what Hayes told Barclay on his first day, when he’d asked why his prison was so small compared to the other. He hasn’t been able to do it; he’s glad Indrid and Dani have been smart enough to work out how to play the kept beast to get views of the sky, bigger anterooms, some semblance of privacy. But he can’t manage it. He spent his whole adult life afraid of being no better than a beast. He won’t give Hayes the satisfaction of treating him like one (more than he already does).

A clock in some far wing of the house tells him it’s noon and he sighs, deciding to circle his cage before taking another nap. Lunch time is lonely these days; it’s spring, and his friends are taking advantage of the sunshine in their anterooms. Dani’s horns are sprouting lime green flowers and Indrid’s scales are brighter, and Barclay can feel his winter coat changing to the rich auburn of the rest of the year. 

When his friends aren’t enjoying the sunshine, they’re sitting against the walls of their enclosures in close conversation with a human. For Indrid, it’s often the gardener who visits. Duck is kind and sociable, makes his disdain for their situation clear, and sneaks them produce from his garden on the rare occasions he can hide it under his coat. And Barclay’s certain that if the room was unlocked at night, Duck might stay there until dawn talking with Indrid. 

For her part, Dani’s caught the eye of a human magician. Apparently she’d been performing at a party shortly after Dani was captured, and insisted on getting herself ready in the room of great beasts. Hayes must have enjoyed her act, for she performs at his parties at least once a month, and more than once has snuck in to visit Dani. 

There are no humans visiting today, and his friends are out of sight. So there’s no one to trade annoyed glances with when Stern appears, notebook in hand and a lunch pail from the town grocer in the other. Their keeper gives him a pleasant hello, then sits down on one of the many benches installed for people to gawk at their suffering–the one nearest Barclay, lucky him–and opens his lunch. He’s never eaten in here before, and Barclay watches in spite of himself, curious as to what he’s brought. You can learn a lot about a guy  by his meals. 

A sandwich appears, as does a slice of cake and a small, green salad. It’s the sandwich that catches his attention, and he noses at the bars trying to work out what’s in it. 

“Hmm, that’s no good.” Stern  reaches into the pail and produces a second, wrapped sandwich, “I accidentally ordered two. I’m not hungry enough for that and while these are delicious, they don’t keep.” He turns his blue eyes on Barclay, “do you want one? It’s smoked turkey with cranberry preserves.”

“Yes. Please.” He waits by the bars as Stern moves his things to sit on the platform. The sandwich has been pressed, so it passes between the bars and Barclay rips the paper away and takes a bite, “fuck that’s nice.”

“Right? I know I should be saving money but sometimes I just want someone who knows what they’re doing to make me something incredible.”

“Hayes not paying you enough?” He polishes off the first half and eats the second one in two bites. 

“The opposite. But there are a lot of expenses at home and my father….well, he was in debt when he died and none of us knew. I thought he was a cautious man. Or at least one who understood to only accept loans with low interest. But I guess not.” Joseph’s fork prods a lettuce leaf. His voice is so tired Barclay feels something dangerously close to sympathy. 

“You’re in Starbrook, right?” 

Joseph nods. 

“You ever get hard up, you tell either the butcher or the dairy that Barclay Cobb knows you, they’ll give you a nice discount.”

“That’s…that’s incredibly generous. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Barclay grumbles, brushing off his hands.

Joseph nudges the napkin with the cake closer, “Do you want half? It’s lemon cream.”

“I wanna say no but I really, really do.”

The human cuts the slice perfectly down the middle. He’s probably great help in the kitchen. Especially if he’s wearing an apron and nothing else.

Barclay has eyes; Joseph Stern is gorgeous, and he’s fallen asleep more than a few nights imagining how satisfying it would be to hold him down and ruin his put-together clothes and make him beg to be fucked like a bitch in heat. 

But sitting next to him now, studying the lines already forming at the corners of his eyes, smelling his aftershave, is more intense than those fantasies have ever been. Barclay wants to reach out a claw and trace it down his neck, see if he sighs or shies away. 

He expects Joseph to leave once he divvies up the food, but instead the human stays and just talks with him, asking him questions about home, about his family, and smiling whenever one of Barclay’s stories wanders off into a detailed description of a meal. 

When the clock tells them an hour is gone, Joseph sighs and stands, “I have to go check on the Jackalopes. One of them keeps burrowing out and getting into the liquor and I cannot work out how. But, um” he runs a hand over his hair, “I really enjoyed having lunch with you. If you ever want me to join you again, just let me know.”

Barclay says he will, then settles down for a nap. It’s only as he’s drifting off that it occurs to him that Joseph Stern is not careless enough to “accidentally” order two sandwiches.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------

A spring storm patters on his umbrella as Joseph waits for Duck to open the cottage door. The gardener was initially wary of him, and would greet him with only a nod and a “need anything, sir?”

Then Joseph had caught him sneaking letters from Aubrey into Dani. After he said nothing and instead announced loudly “Oops, I forgot to check the tree octopus enclosure,” Duck actually began talking with him. 

The gardener's frequent lunches seated next to Indrid, talking in hushed tones, makes Joseph feel less weird about his own, now daily, meals with Barclay.

The cottage door opens and Duck is immediately bending down to scoop up a ball of orange fluff. 

“No ma’am, you ain’t going out there. We got bluebirds nesting in the hedge and you ain’t about to make a dinner of ‘em.” He holds the door with his shoulder, “come on in, Joe.”

Once they’re seated by the stove, Joseph explains, “I’m hoping you have a few books I could borrow. I’ve been bringing them for Barclay and the others to read and I’m running out of things to loan.”

“Happy to see what I have, but ain’t there a way to get ‘em stuff from Haye’s library?”

“His books are mainly dense, historical ones he keeps around to look smart. Or they’re the kind of books that portray cryptids as, well, as the kind of things you get to keep in cages. I only convinced him to let me give them books in the first place by saying how impressed his guests would be if his ‘beasts’ could converse on a variety of topics.”

Duck frowns, shakes his head, “I ain’t sure how you’re managing it, Joe. Acting for even a second like you believe that bullshit. I’d have quit after a day if they made me treat people—I meant that literally, Barclay’s just some guy most of the time–that way.”

“I know. But if I leave I’m afraid Hayes will bring in someone who sees them how he does.” He runs his finger over the rim of his water glass, “And I think I worked out why Barclay can’t go back to being human. It’s the bars; they’re made of silver from a specific region, one most were-beasts historically won’t go to, even under desperate circumstances. I think that silver has a special property that forces them to remain in their beast form.”

“Seems as likely as anything else at this point.”

“Hayes all but confirmed it when I asked if he ever thought of making a new cage out of something else; silver isn’t that strong of a metal. He acted like I’d suggested he eat his pistol.” 

“Maybe we could bust it open ourselves if it ain’t that strong?”

“I mean, it’s still a very solid cage. And even if we got him out, Dani and Indrid’s cages are made of very different materials. We need a way to get them all out at once. Ideally one that doesn’t lead them immediately back to us.”

Duck thinks a moment, then sighs, “Aubrey could rig us something to blow all three cages open, but I’ve still got nothin’ on that second part. If all it meant was I got chucked in jail, might be worth it to know ‘Drid was okay. But I can’t lie for shit and Hayes knows that; might get the truth outta me and ‘Drid would be right back in a goddamn cage.”

Joseph thinks of Barclay, sitting shoulder to shoulder with him, bars keeping them from touching, telling him how much he misses home. 

“We’ll get them out, Duck. We just have to be patient a little longer.”

—---------------------------------------------------------------

It’s just the spring. 

This is Barclay’s new mantra, one he’s used for the last two weeks and the one he uses as Joseph steps into the room. 

It’s just the spring that’s making him want to growl and yell until Joseph comes and sleeps next to his cage. 

It’s just the spring that’s making him imagine taking Joseph home, the pair of them sprucing it up into the perfect little den for two. 

It’s just the spring telling him that he needed to have his dick inside Joseph yesterday and if he waits much longer he might die from how badly he wants to fuck him. 

“Barclay? I brought you something.”  The human holds out a small, square tin, “Some softening oil for your coat. Duck helped me find a few of the plants. I wanted to surprise you, so I used a recipe from a book by another werebear and I hope it’s the right one.” 

Barclay catches the tin when it drops through the food slot. Opening it, he gasps, “Holy fuck, it’s just like the stuff I have at home. Thanks, Joseph.”

“You’re very welcome.”

This oil calls for stinging nettle leaves, boiled down. Joseph’s forearms sport several small, irritated red scratches.

“You didn’t have to do this.” Barclay murmurs. 

“I wanted to.” Joseph slips his hand through the bars, touching his arm, “I want to take care of you.”

Barclay whines, low in his throat, and busies himself oiling his fur to stop from thinking about what a good mate Joseph would be. That’s a pointless, heartbreaking train of thought, and also the human part of him can never tell if it’s creepy or not. 

They talk as he grooms, mostly about the mystery novel Joseph lent him. When no amount of twisting around lets him reach a patch of his back, the human says, “Want some help?”

“Please.” He passes the tin and rests his back against the bars. He wonders how Joseph will manage to get it deep enough without claws when the teeth of a comb lightly and pleasantly scratch his skin.

“I brought it from home, just in case.”

Barclay smiles and closes his eyes, relaxing into the meticulous, tender touches. Soon he’s purring and Joseph is more petting him than anything else. 

“You don’t have to tell me but….how did you end up here. You told me you were careful not to show your were-form around strangers.” A hand reaches up and rubs below his right ear. 

“It was after Indrid got caught. He’d gone looking for Dani, and Hayes fucking ambushed him when he was asleep and couldn’t see it coming. He got a letter to us through Duck, and me and a few others decided to break them both out. It’s a fuck of a lot easier to chase of guards when you’re a werebear. Then it all went to hell and it was either get caught myself or watch everyone I love end up in here or in a human jail. I couldn’t let that happen.”

“My brave, beautiful beast.” Joseph whispers. 

It turns out Barclay doesn’t hate that word, Not when Joseph says it like that.

He shifts on the floor of the cage so he and the human are facing each other. Joseph reaches his other hand between the bars without a trace of fear and rests them both on Barclay’s cheeks. 

“You are getting out of here. Come hell or high water, I will get you out. I promise.”

Barclay doesn’t have much hope these days. But he closes his eyes and rests his hands atop Joseph’s, and allows himself a glimmer of it. 

—--------------------------------------------------------

Hayes is celebrating spring by inviting all his wealthy friends to enjoy his collection, with the bulk of the evening being spent in the Hall of Great Beasts. Joseph’s been dreading it ever since it was announced, and unfortunately it’s been just as trying a night as he feared. 

The guests ask him questions with little interest in the answers, and not a single one of them seems to have any issue with talking about the trio like they’re mindless, bloodthirsty monsters. Dani is having the most luck staying out of sight in her trees, while Indrid is forced to tell the fortunes of whoever asks. Barclay is trying to sleep through it, but people keep poking their canes through the bars to pester him. Or they were, until Joseph told them the next person he caught doing that would be hit over the head with the offending item. 

Aubrey is performing, and her show–along with the exhausted looks he trades with Duck, who’s been press-ganged into acting as a waiter–are the highlights of the night. Joseph is watching her produce flaming scarves from her coat, helping himself to a smoked salmon toast and wondering if he can sneak one into Barclay’s cage when there’s a commotion by Dani’s enclosure. 

Afraid she might be hurt or sick, he hurries over. He finds the Leshen at the very top of her cage, snarling down at Hayes and another man who is leering at her. 

“Mr. Stern, good, go do your job and get her down from there.” Hayes points into the branches.

“Why?” He looks up at his friend, who frantically shakes her head. 

“Because she’ll be moving from my house this evening and joining Mr. Colliers collection.”

There’s a trill of alarm from Indrid, and Barclay is on his feet in his cage, growling loud enough to shake the chandeliers. 

Joseph’s blood turns glacial, “No, she won’t. Because it’s illegal to sell humanoid cryptids, even if the jury is still out on owning them.”

“Well then, we’ll just consider this a gift.” Hayes winks at Collier. 

Joseph draws himself up to his full height, “As their keeper, I absolutely cannot allow this. Dani isn’t a thing to be sold.” He realizes how that sounds and adds, “especially not to someone who’s done nothing to convince me he can care for her.”

Collier rolls his eyes, “Alright. Stern, was it? How much do you want?”

“There is no amount of money you could offer to get me to agree to this.” He digs his nails into his palms. In the corner of his eye, he watches Barclay paw the ground of his cage.

“Surely these beasts aren’t that important to you. After all, William can always get more.”

He takes a deep breath and then calmly replies, “These ‘beasts’ are some of the kindest, intelligent, and caring people I’ve ever met. And they are far more human than an ignorant, greedy, useless, and self-entitled piece of shit like you.”

Collier's fist connects with his face and he drops to the ground. As he’s trying to get his feet under him, confident in his willingness and ability to strangle a man with his own cravat, there’s a world-splitting crack from the center of the room. 

The crowd parts in screaming waves as Barclay barrels across the tiles. There’s something wild and unfamiliar in his expression, but Joseph doesn’t get to examine it before he rears up on his hind legs and smashes the lock on Dani’s cage. In the commotion, Joseph spots Duck and Aubrey converging on Indrid’s enclosure. 

Barclay whirls on Collier and Hayes, roaring in their faces. 

Hayes stumbles back, shouting “Stern, for god's sake if you don’t do your job I will beat you black and blue myself.”

Barclay lunges forward, grabbing both men and hurling them out into the hallway, snapping his jaws at anyone who comes near him. Then he lowers his gaze directly onto Joseph, and he understands. 

There's feral werebear growling down at him.

“Barclay? Do you know who I am?”

The werebear nods. Then he reaches down and hauls Joseph into his arms, manhandling him onto his back and barking, “hold on.”

Joseph obeys, breath leaving him as Barclay takes off in huge, loping strides. He’s faster than any horse Hayes could send after them, and the manor, town, and countryside pass Joseph at a staggering speed. It must be close to an hour before he slows, strides still quick and determined. An hour after that he comes to a stop at the base of a rocky hillside covered with moss. 

The werebear approaches a patch of greenery and pulls it aside with his paw, revealing a wooden door. Opening that reveals a homey cave; there’s a pile of blankets and furs in one corner, a larder in another, and books stacked next to a lantern on a low table. Joseph eases himself off Barclay’s back and looks around as the werebear manages to light the lantern, then close and lock the door. 

Joseph reads the spines on the books “This is your safehouse, isn’t it? For if you get feral and have to hide?”

“Or there’s hunters.” Barclay stacks several, thick furs on the floor, then spreads a blanket over them. Then he points a claw at the make-shift bed, “lay down.”

“I appreciate the bed, big guy.” He sits down, “but there’s no way I can sleep after all that excitement.”

Barclay lowers to all fours and pads forward, nosing at Joseph's shoulder, “You won’t be.”

“I, um, I’m not sure what you mean.” He watches claws inch towards his hips, goosebumps rising on his skin as hot breath caresses his neck. 

The werebear lifts his head, smiling at him with eyes that remain wilder than Joseph’s ever seen them, “You’re my mate.”

Every inch of him blushes at the word, “Why do you say that?”

“You take care of me. Clean my fur. Bring me dinner.” He brushes his snout against Joseph’s nose, “didn’t leave even though you hated it there.”

“I wasn’t going to abandon any of you. But you’re right” he strokes Barclay’s cheek, “part of why I stayed was because I couldn’t stand the thought of getting away from there without you coming too.”

Barclay growls, pleased, at the contact, “Gonna make sure you can’t leave me now either.”

“How?” He rubs one rounded ear playfully, “I don’t see any rope.”

“Don’t need it.” Barclay sits back on his heels, pawing at his crotch. When he moves his hand, Joseph goes cross-eyed staring at a cock that, while short and vaguely human in shape, is bigger around than both his fists put together. If he ends up on it, he will absolutely be there until Barclay decides he’s done with him. But that’s not the most salient issue right now. 

He rests a hand on a furry thigh, “Barclay, I’m flattered that a gorgeous, incredible beast like you wants me for his mate. And it’s not as if I haven’t thought of you, um, having your way with me before.” It’s the first time he’s admitted it out loud, and at his shy expression Barclay leans down and snuffles his face reassuringly. He continues, “In other words, I’m not opposed to being your mate, but I have no idea if that will even fit in me.”

Barclay looks down, then back up at him, “It will. 

“Are you….saying that from experience or-”

“I’ll make it fit, pretty boy.” 

Joseph moans, the nickname relaxing him with its familiarity even as he realizes he’s more turned on than he’s ever been in his entire life.

Barclay smirks, “You like that? Like knowing I’ll make you be a good mate whether you like it or not?”

“Ohjesuschrist yes” Joseph yanks off his shoes, fumbling with his belt and pants as Barclay starts on his shirt. The buttons prove too much for his semi-feral state and he rips the fabric in half, shoving the cloth away and pinning Joseph to the ground by his shoulders. 

When Barclay’s gaze flicks down, Joseph wonders if he was expecting something else.

“I’m um, I’m not exactly a, um, ‘traditional man. The top half is easier to change than the bottom.”

The werebear manages a kiss to his cheek, “I knew. Could smell how you got turned on when we talked sometimes.” He scoots back, hooking his hands under Joseph's knees to hold them open, “made me wanna do this.”

Joseph’s response comes in the cut-off cry he makes as Barclay buries his face between his thighs, lapping affectionately at his dick and folds. 

“Barclay, Barclay ohmygod” he laughs as a the tongue fucks experimentally into him, moving his hand down until he can rest it in auburn fur, “good boy, oh good boy.”

The werebear growls happily, pressing his tongue against him more firmly as he does. 

“Do you like that? Like knowing you’re being good for your…mate?” The word is odd in his mouth, but the response from Barclay makes it worthwhile. The werebear growls again, far louder, and grinds his hips like he’ll die if Joseph doesn’t let him fuck him soon. His tongue focuses on Joseph’s dick, the relentless attention bringing him closer and closer to the edge. 

Just as he’s about to have the best orgasm of his life, Barclay pulls back.

“Please don’t stop.”

“Can’t let you cum yet.” Barclay carefully lowers Joseph’s legs back down, “only want you doing it with my cum inside you.”

Joseph covers his face to hide the embarrassingly loud moan.

“I know. You like the idea of being my mate. Of everyone knowing it.” He licks a lazy stripe up Joseph’s chest, “elbows and knees.”

He changes position, palms sinking into the blankets. Barclay blankets him with his body, nuzzling the back of his neck and nipping his shoulders, “You look good like this, pretty boy. Like it’s where you belong.”

“You’re making a convincing case for me staying here forever.” Joseph turns his head to kiss Barclay’s forearm. 

“Yeah?” Barclay sits back, and a moment later the head of his cock teases Joseph’s folds, “you wanna just lay around and get fucked like a good mate? I can do that.” The paw not holding his cock settles on Joseph’s ass, kneading it possessively, “My house in Kepler is big enough for two. Or more. Lot’s of houses nearby, your family could move out here and we could make sure they’re okay. I’d make you breakfast every day, come home at lunch just to eat you out…”

Joseph moans and pushes his hips back, suddenly desperate to have Barclay inside him. But the werebear continues rubbing the head against him, lost in his fantasy, “could do this every night. Train you to take me, make you love being on my dick so much you beg for it.” Barclay’s hips change tempo as he ruts against him. There’s a deep, honeyed chuckle, “man, listen to me. Used to daydream about breaking outta my cage, holding you down on the floor and making a mess of you while I knocked you up.”

Joseph’s mouth moves faster than his brain, which is why he moans out “godyes” before adding, “please don’t.”

Barclay pauses, pets his thigh, “Can’t happen when I’m a Were and you’re human. No one knows why. But that’s how it works.  And even if I could breed you like this, I wouldn’t, not without asking. So,” his paw smacks into Joseph’s ass, “you can think about everyone knowing you got knocked up by the beast you were supposed to be keeping tamed to your heart's content.”

He turns his head and after a deep, steadying breath says, “I’d like it better if the beast actually tried to.”

Brown eyes go huge in the lamplight. Then Joseph is hauled backwards, flipped around, and dragged into Barclay’s lap. 

“No fair, blue eyes, being feral was fading away and then you had to go and say that.” He guides Joseph over his cock, breath coming in puffing growls, “and now I can’t think of anything but giving into instinct.”

Joseph wraps his arms over Barclay’s shoulders, “I trust my mate to take care of me.”

Claws prick his hips and shove them down. The moan ripping out of him is undignified and obscene, but it pales in comparison to the roaring one Barclay releases as he cums the instant he bottoms out. 

The werebear blinks sheepishly, “Sorry. It’s just so tight I kinda couldn’t help it.”

Joseph kisses his snout, “I forgive you, big guy. But if you don’t get me off soon I’ll…I’ll find another werebear who will.”

Teeth give his shoulder a warning bite as a paw rubs furiously at his dick, “Like hell you will, pretty boy. You’re gonna stay right here on my dick until I’m done with you, and then you’re come home with me, lemme feed you a fucking amazing meal, then get in bed and raise your ass like a good little mate.”

“Yes, yes” he grinds on Barclay’s cock, the thin portion at the base making the rest feel all the thicker as it rubs at every sensitive spot inside him. He never knew he could enjoy being filled like this, being used like this. 

He cums with a gasp, hands flying to Barclay’s chest and clinging to his fur as he shakes and whimpers through the waves of intense pleasure. When he’s done, he raises his head and discovers Barclay licking his lips. 

“Fuck that was hot. And” he thrusts up, cock fully hard again, “now you’re nice and loose for however much I wanna fill you.” He lifts Joseph’s hand in one paw, kissing it, “how’s that sound.”

“Incredible.”

“Good” the cock inside him thrusts deeper with wet, pornographic noises as he fucks his cum up into him, “because this beast is gonna breed you the whole fucking night.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Joseph wakes up to faint bird calls and a human hand stroking his hair. 

“Morning, blue eyes.” A less growl-filled, familiar voice whispers to him. 

He looks up and finds a handsome face with an auburn beard and coffee-brown eyes smiling at him. 

“Still like me when I’m not as hairy?” Barclay teases.

“Like is not even a remotely strong enough word.” Joseph pets his beard, “you know, I had no idea werebears were able to talk when feral.”

“We can but it’s really, really hard. But I did it so you’d know it was still me and not be scared.” Barclay holds him closer; there are tattoos on his arms and Joseph can’t wait to get a better look at them, “I meant what I said last night. About you coming to Kepler with me and bringing your family. It’s a good town, and way cheaper to live in than Starbrook. So…” he turns impressive puppy-eyes on Joseph, “what do you say?”

Joseph kisses full, welcoming lips, “I’d say it’s my lucky day.”

[adastra121]

Touchstarved OC Relationship Charts

I made the relationship charts for my Touchstarved OCs!

More about their relationships with the Touchstarved LIs below!

Person who made these templates is @deiimi

Jin the Abandoned Alchemist

“Friendship is...a new venture for me. But I promise, I'll do my best!”

Likes Kuras — “You take care of everyone, but who takes care of you, doctor?” Admires Kuras for his skills as a doctor and his selflessness. Finds his presence very soothing, which is great because he is a ball of constant anxiety.

Jin and Kuras have a lot of similarities in some ways. They are both naturally curious, they both seek to help others, they are both introverted, and they are both avid readers.

Oh, and they’re both INFJs and earth signs.

Kuras seems like the kind of person Jin would like to read next to. He wonders what sort of books Kuras likes. Perhaps he would have some recommendations.

Conversation is never boring with Kuras. Jin loves to discuss alchemy, theories, and experiments that he’s pondered attempting with him.

Jin insists on helping Kuras around his clinic where he can, since he believes he owes the latter a life debt now.

He stops by to gift Kuras something every now and then, like some food or tea, because have you ever seen the doctor eat or, gods forbid, cook anything? He worries for Kuras sometimes, even though Kuras would say there’s nothing to concern himself over.

Close with Leander — “Something about you makes me want to be more than I am — and yet, whenever I’m with you, I feel like…I’m enough.” Jin’s never met anyone so friendly, generous, and brave. Leander makes him want to be brave, too.

He wholeheartedly believes Leander is a good person. A mage of that kind of power and he uses it to help people for free. He lives in Lowtown. He’s given a home to the Bloodhounds.

Leander strikes him as a kind, dazzling, and genuinely good person.

And more puzzlingly, he’s fearless. Offered to let Jin — a complete stranger — inflict his curse on him, even tie him up so Jin could feel safer.

Try as he might, Jin just can’t understand why Leander is so kind to him. His whole life, he’s never been enough just as he is. His curse — his existence — is a blight he’s always had to seek atonement for. Not even the mage who basically raised him thought otherwise.

So for someone so bright and fearless and good to offer everything he yearns for like he’s actually worthy of it…that feeling is addictive. Almost more addictive than the feeling of warm, trusting flesh and blood under his fingers.

He can’t let Leander down. It has to be different this time.

Dislikes Vere — “I never know what to expect with you. I’m still working out whether that’s good or bad.” Everything about Vere startles Jin. Not just because he’s a killer, but because of his shamelessness and Jin flusters easily.

Vere is a bit unpredictable to Jin and that makes him nervous.

Vere’s constant games and teasing will probably take some getting used to. As well as the flirting and the innuendoes.

Doesn’t know whether to take Vere seriously a lot of the time.

Most honest person you’ll ever meet if you don’t listen to a damn word he says. Jin’s starting to learn what that means.

It will take a while for Jin to warm up to Vere.

Likes/Dislikes Ais — “You are everything I have been warned against and you seem to have made it your life’s mission to piss me off at every turn! So why do I trust you?” Despite not knowing each other very long, Ais has somehow managed to push every one of Jin’s buttons. But he’s also honest, and that’s something Jin respects.

Ais challenges Jin in ways he isn’t used to, and he finds that both frustrating and frustratingly enlightening.

Ais is intriguing to Jin, unlike anyone he’s met before. His cool, relaxed, and honest demeanor — his entire character is so different from Jin, who is anxious, cautious, and constantly worried about not being a burden, not making his existence harder for others to deal with.

Jin has a bad habit of lying to himself — sometimes he doesn’t even realize it — so whether subconsciously or not, he finds Ais’s honesty refreshing and…safe. Jin feels oddly safe around him.

Ais feels like the eye of a storm. A moment of clarity in the midst of desolation.

In some ways, Jin finds the most freedom in Ais. He allows himself to get upset, to make demands, to say aloud the sarcastic comments often kept in his head. He allows himself to take up space in a way that he usually doesn’t and it terrifies him, because what if he likes it too much? What if he can’t go back to the way he used to be?

Likes Mhin — “Ah, are you busy? Sorry, I’ll try not to get in your way!” Mhin seems very reliable to Jin, but also very focused on their goal. Jin doesn’t want to bother them.

To Jin, they feel like a startled animal in an unfamiliar place. He’s very cautious around them, tries not to upset them.

Jin would leave Mhin alone for the most part, wait for them to approach him.

They’d probably end up with each other in a rowdy tavern, Mhin being a loner and Jin being a bit of a wallflower.

If they end up conversing, I think they’d bond over their interest in alchemical experiments.

Alon the Stray Hound

Likes Kuras — “I like you, Doc, maybe a bit too much. You know, you’re not giving me much incentive to avoid getting hurt.” Already liked and found him curious when they first met, but after discovering his mischievous streak? She wants to team up to pull the prank of the century.

Like Mhin, Alon admires his selflessness and how he helps the people of Lowtown, seemingly for free.

Kuras piques their curiosity. He’s graceful, mysterious, unshakable. They want to know if there’s anything more beneath that seemingly untouchable image.

He’s like an impenetrable safe they’re trying to crack. She doesn’t know what’s inside until it opens, but they’ve decided it’s worth the effort. There’s something invaluable in there, she just knows it. He’s a puzzle to them and they like puzzles.

Evading an angry Senobium cleric through Eridia’s labyrinth of a city with Kuras was the first time she felt at home since her old crew’s betrayal.

Likes Leander — “I’m no mage, but even I know you and I could make magic together.” Instantly clicked with him due to their similarities. There’s two of them now. And that’s everyone else’s problem.

Looking at both their relationship charts, it looks like they’re fighting for the Protagonist role.

Being the Hound, they’ve got good instincts and they know Leander is putting on a show most of the time. Alon’s not too worried because they’re also a performer — a jester who works and charms the crowd, both to survive and because they genuinely love it. So as far as Alon’s concerned, Leander can keep his secrets — at least, until it hurts others.

Look this is what happens when you put two people with a hero complex together okay they can end up being heroic against each other

They’re both magicians, though Leander does actual magic and Alon does sleight of hand.

Alon also probably had a Robin Hood thing going for them and their crew in the past.

Likes Vere — “You’re trouble, Foxy. I like that in a man.” Finds his assholery hilarious, shares his love for mischief and distaste for rules. The chain and collar plays right into her hero complex, though, so that might be concerning…

Loves to match Vere innuendo for innuendo. Vere’s insinuations tend to be more elegant, though, while Alon has a whole arsenal of “deez nuts” or “your mom” jokes.

Genuinely wants to help Vere out of his imprisonment, but how to make him see…

“I mean, yeah, so you killed some people — Not saying I condone it! — but the Senobium deals with that crime by…forcing you to kill people? Sheesh, and authorities call me an outlaw.”

Likes Ais — “Hey there, Soup Guardian. Guardian of the Soup. Ocudeus quivers before him.” Admires Ais’s straightforwardness and cool charisma. Thinks he’d be a loyal friend, or at the very least, a fun drinking buddy.

I don’t think Alon would be romantically attracted to Ais. They’d find Ais attractive, though. Like, they have eyes.

Would visit Ais to chat or play with Princess and the other Soulless creatures.

Finds his calm presence grounding, and likes that he listens to them ramble on about whatever pops into her mind at the moment.

Would join him in a bar brawl. Would help him start one, would help him end one.

Loves to banter with him since they’re both sarcastic little shits.

Okay, I’ll give him a serious quote from them: “Let me know if you need someone to take Princess out for a walk! I’m your guy.”

Likes Mhin — “You helped me, now I’ve got your back! So what d’ya say? You with me, partner?” Finds them interesting, cute and fun to fluster. Wants to get to know them better.

Remember when I said she likes puzzles? Mhin is a sort of puzzle to them, too. Full of odd contradictions and pieces that don’t fit together. They are lonely and they need help, but they insist on doing everything on their own. They say they don’t care, but they keep helping her. What’s their deal?

They find Mhin fun. Fun to figure out, fun to fluster, fun to chat with.

Mhin strikes Alon as lonely and in need of a friend — maybe it’s their hero complex saying to lend a hand or maybe it’s because they’re in the same spot, but Alon wants to reach out to them.

She believes they share the same goals. Of course, Mhin doesn’t have to accept her ambitious propositions of teaming up to pull a Senobium heist, but she can’t shake this hopeful feeling around them — that if they worked together, maybe neither of them would be alone anymore.

I did not intend to make them Mhin’s foil in my playthrough but um. So far…

They are both cursed. They are both newcomers to Eridia. They are both seeking to get into the Senobium. They are both lonely.

Alon is charming and outgoing and always seeking to make new friends, even if she ends up getting hurt. Mhin is the opposite, pushing people away to protect themselves, prevent themselves or others from getting hurt.

Mhin is sullen and short-tempered whereas Alon is optimistic and hard to ruffle. Though I guess that’s already evident in how she likes everyone already.

Mhin is blunt and straightforward — they have their secrets, but this is the vibe I get from them. They’re usually honest with their feelings, emotionally constipated as they seem. Alon is also emotionally constipated but in a completely different direction. She deflects and covers up their unpleasant feelings and other uncomfortable topics with jokes like it’s an Olympic sport and she’s the defending champion.

Alon is adventurous, impulsive and adaptive. They thrive in change and chaos, but deep down, they crave stability and a home. Meanwhile, Mhin strikes me as someone who prefers the security of the familiar, when they need a change.

Their fighting styles would be so different. It’s like earthbending vs airbending (if any of you guys are ATLA fans). I think Mhin has a very efficient and precise method of taking down enemies. They make every strike count and they don’t hesitate. Alon, on the other hand, likes playing tricks, using traps and diversions, discombobulating and dancing around their enemies. Mhin is a hunter, Alon is a thief — her goal isn’t usually to take down her opponents, it’s to escape or avoid direct engagement. Not that they can’t fight — they did grow up on the streets — but Alon will always choose to sweet talk, confuse, incapacitate, or run where they can.

Alon’s colour is orange to contrast Mhin’s blue. Similar to how Leander’s green contrasts against Ais’s red and Kuras’s yellow contrasts Vere’s purple. And although I wish I could say otherwise, it is completely unintentional. I wanted to give Alon a bright colour that stood out from the others because that’s their character. They are bright and colourful and fun.

Alon’s colour scheme is semi-inspired by the sun (bright orange, yellow, and pinks like the sunset) and Mhin’s colours more closely resemble the moon.

I just think this is cute. Mhin likes stargazing. Alon has freckles. And you know how there’s always poems and metaphors about freckles being constellations on skin?

[electricbluebutterflies]

Chris/Melissa + "give me your hands, i'll warm them up."

Post-6B, PG-ish, also on ao3.

They’re lost. Melissa is convinced.

She’s trying to be a good girlfriend – a goal that has never ended well for her, let her just point that out now, she’s very self-aware when making questionable life choices – and in her current dynamic that means tagging along to check the sensors in an unusually cold rainstorm because there is a Schedule and nothing short of a gateway to hell could throw Chris off-course… and even then, she thinks, he’d probably still keep routines as much as possible. The man has some definite trauma-related personality issues, and-

She’s not going to say anything. She is really, really trying to be a good girlfriend this time. Whatever her face does is not her problem.

She does enjoy these outings, when the weather is a little less questionable. She’s always been attracted to men who know what they’re doing, and this one… she doesn’t necessarily understand what he’s doing, or why he can’t manage to squirrel-proof the trackers, but she likes the intention of it, the repurposing of his past to help protect the people they love and-

“You could go back to the truck.”

She knows he means well. Ever since he came back from whatever dumbass adventure he went on south of the border – conveniently after Melissa started applying a don’t-ask-don’t-tell approach to anything supernatural that did not descend upon her house or her workplace – if not even earlier than that, she’s trusted his attentions. At worst, his idea of appropriate courtship is a little awkward, protective not minimizing, and-

“You’re not going to,” she counters.

“I’m much more used to the elements. I’m fine.”

Yeah no. While those two little words tend to be a little more dangerous in a significantly higher vocal range, they’re not exactly believable in this one either, and there’s probably a fun conversation they’re going to have later about what exactly happened to you to make you Like This and she’s pretty sure there’s enough wine in the house to get them through that one and-

“Bravado gets nowhere with me. Hasn’t since before my divorce. If you’re out here, I’m out here.”

This is, admittedly, a particular flavor of overkill. She’s reminded more and more often lately that she’s relatively petite and a little too human for most of the life choices that have been inflicted upon her in the past few years, and she’d never liked hiking before, she ran track in high school but that was a different skill set and also over twenty-five years ago and-

She’s a good girlfriend. That shouldn’t be such a part of her identity. Too bad.

Besides, this is at least more stimulating than her usual experience of hanging out in someone’s questionably clean apartment, pretending to watch some sports game on TV, and having disappointing sex. None of those issues apply this time, and it’s been such a delightful change of pace that she can forgive her frustrations, and-

“Give me your hands. I’ll warm them up.”

She does as she’s told, and there are moments she feels infinitely and beautifully small, her gloved hands entwined with her partner’s and-

“I did not know heated gloves were a thing,” she murmurs.

“They’re not… shit, did I forget to give you hand warmers?”

She takes no responsibility for what her face does, she reminds herself, and whatever displeased look she’s giving him is deserved. “Give me what?”

“Sounds like a no. Give me a moment.”

Chris reaches into one of his jacket pockets – it is truly unfair that he has pockets, let alone big enough ones to hold multiple purses worth of stuff – and pulls out two little orange gel things. “Ever use one of these?”

“No idea what you’re even holding.”

He does something with his hands to the packets and then hands them to her. “Slip these inside your gloves. Hold them. You’ll stay warm.”

She does, and the little things work, and-

“Onward?”

“Onward. Just a few more sensors to check…”