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lvnatiq · 3 years

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Random Relationship Headcanons | Felix Escellun x gn!reader

a/n: Hey ! On todays menu I am serving you modern au relationship headcanons. I know for a fact that I can’t write headcanons AT ALL yet here we are, out of spite I will keep trying until I can manage to write good shit. I’m going through a chaotic time in my life so please be patient with me 😭

I’m currently working on tattoo artist! reader x Felix headcanons and college!enemies to lovers one-shot. Knowing that Felix’s fav trope is enemies to lovers, I will post it hopefully before his new chapter drops. I used most of the hcs that were sent to me but if you couldn’t see yours, then it will probably be used on the other works.

No beta we die like men.

warnings: curse words, nsfw under the cut, random sage moments, felix being a ‘the neighborhood’ song basically.

You persuade him to start an Instagram account, and because of his family's popularity, he quickly gains followers. His account is practically empty because he would rather spend his time stalking your account on Instagram. You noticed the emptiness and wanted to take him out and take some photos for his account, which turned out amazingly. He is a little camera shy, so be patient with him.

You like to watch him apply his eyeliner but he finds it so stressing to do under your gaze. He used to be able to do it easily, but it has now become one of his most difficult tasks. You wanted to ask for his assistance in applying eyeliner to you in the hopes of making it simpler for him; he agreed but quickly regretted it when he realized how near your faces would be. You with your eyes closed, waiting for him to drag the line as he was only thinking about how bad he wanted to kiss you.

Felix has a Polaroid of you and stella in his wallet I said what I said.

When it comes to himself, he can be a pessimist, but when it comes to you, he is the most loving and positive boyfriend you could ever ask for. You have a dream ? He is ready to help you achieve it. Do you want to change in your life ? Go for it, He’s more excited than you are.

He can be quite insecure at times when it comes to your relationship because he feels like you deserve the world but the world is too big for his tiny hands. Will his cuddles be enough ? God he hopes so.

He almost cried when you told him you loved him for the first time. He's also baffled as to how you might feel the same way about him.

Drunk Felix is really clingy and honest. Whatever he can’t say sober drunk felix can and definitely will.

“May the stars let my death be between your glorious thighs amen-“ “Felix-”

Felix is weird but it add to his charm. It’s not unusual for you to wake up in the middle of the night and find the pillow besides yours empty. In the dead of night, you will find Felix munching on some weird ass food combinations.

He also has a habit of doing things that are extremely adorable without even noticing it. Like walking around the house in his oversized shirts, his hand clutching at the cuffs whilst the other one sheepishly rubs his eye.

“Can I lay on your lap ? I promise I won’t fall asleep. I just need to rest for a little.” His voice is so soft and hushed. “Of course, come here.” He throws himself onto you as he comes hopping on his tip toes.

He falls asleep on his desk too often, so you have to carry him back to his room, where he snuggles against you while you lead him there. Once he's in his room, he insists that you stay with him, so you wait until he falls asleep as you play with his hair, and he wakes up thinking it was all a dream.

I firmly believe that Felix’s love language is acts of service. Like making you coffee and bringing you random snacks as you work or wrapping you up in fluffy blankets whenever he catches you slacking on the couch.

He's been romanticizing anything and everything since he met you. When he sees beautiful flowers, he wants to bring them to you, but he also believes that their beauty stems from the fact that they are alive, so he argues and stresses a lot when deciding what to do in simple situations like these.

His edginess belongs to his impulsiveness and his style only at any other situation he's a complete softboy.

And I'm certain he knows a variety of card tricks. He enjoys showing off, and he enjoys it even more when you become fascinated and beg him to share the trick.

If you're a morning person, you'll probably spend your mornings alone in solitude, finishing work before the day begins, but if you're a night owl, you and Felix will go out for night walks and Felix would go out for night walks, sharing headphones to play some music, enjoy each others presence and develop a habit of watching the sunrise together.

Felix makes you playlists at the most random times and with the most random names. Until one day he sent you a playlist at around 4 a.m called “you”, filled with his favorite music. He usually sees music as a safe space for himself and now that you are his safe place too it’s only appropriate for him to do so. This only further proves how he spends his time thinking about you.

I feel like Felix would have what most would call "attachment issues" but it’s mainly because of his protective tendencies. This is not to say that he’s this "overly jealous toxic" character; rather, he has never had anyone to truly call his own in his entire life so he would do anything to protect it.

Felix is also big on astrology, so if you want the perfect birth chart, he'll give it to you. Also he owns a lovely deck of tarot cards, and if you ask him for a love reading, he can't manage to keep his words and feelings to himself so he modifies your reading according to him and his desires. Let the boy abuse his powers for the sake of love.

His style could be described as dark academia, his wardrobe mainly consists of dark colors, lots and lots of blazers and a lot of oversized shirts. He also loves jewelry so he owns a lot of rings and chains. Just so you know, if you're wearing any of his rings, his heart is doing cartwheels.

Is it obvious that he loves it when you place your hand in his and play with his rings with your fingertips.

Spoil him. Buy him that baby blue hoodie with cat ears.

“Ah, you look adorable.” “Isn’t it a bit too b-big ?” “You could say that. Do you mind ?” “No, I like it that way.” “I would know.” You smirk followed by felix’s gasp. “If you so desperately wanted a cat boy you know you have me right ?” Nudging your shoulder, Sage leapt into the conversation. “What is he talking about ?” Felix grumbled, only to notice two fuzzy triangular fabrics on top of his head as he brushed his fingertips over it.

He’s obsessed with your hands, kissing your knuckles, drawing circles in your palm. At a certain point it became an involuntary gesture he does it quite often without realizing.

He’s also canonically extremely blushy but he would never admit it. You’re convinced he uses some sort of make up because it is not possible for the pink dusting his cheeks to look this good.

He insists that you’re cold even in the warmest weathers because he wants to see you in his coat.

Sage forces Felix to take his thirst trap Tiktoks.

He really appreciates it when you add to his herbal tea collection without him noticing and he considers it a sign of affection because he takes his tea very seriously.

He loses it when you call him baby he gets flustered and frustrated but it’s all because it rolls off of your tongue so nicely that he can’t get enough of it.

Felix owns a broad collection of scented lip balms some of them are tinted. You didn’t hear this from me.

He never once took anything the Sage says seriously until he saw how well you two got along. He never thought that he would be standing there taking relationship and flirting advice from the frat boy.

Felix is a complete asshole when he wants to. He’s very verbal about it too. Consistent sarcastic remarks and eye rolls. I mean it runs in his blood, look at Escell.

You love it when he suddenly whips out the confident Felix, it’s not a daily occurrence you know.

When Felix is concentrated, he’s lost and there’s almost no way you or anything else can distract him. So it’s time to grab some colorful hair clips and ties to fuck around with his hair.

Felix is not the best at verbally expressing his gratitude towards you. He doesn’t know what he would do if you weren’t there for him at the lowest points of his life where normally he would close himself and bare the weight of his family problems and personal life issues that he can’t seem to get out of. Now he has you, someone who’s willing to listen to him and offer him a warm embrace when he needs the most.

While you to play games together, when he wins he wears that iconic shit eating grin of his with pride looking at you through the corner of his eye. “Shit, what do you want me to say to that felix ? Perhaps I should call you master now that you won ‘one’ fucking round.” He is praying that the screen light is covering the fact that he is a blushy mess after hearing you say that.

NSFW

I cannot stress this enough but he is extremely vocal in bed. Whining, trying to restrict himself from making too much noise but failing miserably.

Muffled pants, choked sobs and lots of pleasure infused tears.

He loves getting praised during sex but what he loves more is to get praised after it’s all over. Like you telling him how great he was, how well he behaved, how good he made you feel. He experiences sub drops a lot so please assure him that he did well :(

He’s into power-play but not in a submissive or dominant kind of relationship, it’s more of a psychological thing where the fact that he can see how good he makes you feel gives him a rush of confidence and adrenaline.

I believe that this motherfucker is a masochist, pain makes him more excited than getting an update on his favorite author who went on a year long hiatus and that is saying a lot.

Bite him. Scratch him. It is so stimulating for him he can reach his high just from those actions.

Fuck do anything to his ears bite, lick, pull, blow on it. He is extremely sensitive so anything you do will basically drive him out of his mind. It will most definitely lead to him trembling beneath your fingertips.

You must think that you are the only one who is such a tease but you’re wrong. Felix teases you quite often mostly to direct your attention towards him or to keep your attention on him. He’s quite greedy when it comes to you and your hands on his body. Unbuttoning unnecessary amount of buttons on his shirt to show a little skin that he knows you’ll notice. Playing with his necklace placing the chain between his lips dragging it towards the inside of his bottom lip teasing the metallic charm with the tip of his tongue. He definitely ain’t oblivious he knows exactly what he’s doing and he makes sure that you know exactly what he’s doing.

When he’s in the mood he will tug the hem of your top meanwhile his eyes are glued to the floor or graze the temples of his glasses between his lips, his teeth lightly nibbling the pointy edge. He loves to play dumb too. When you question him, he acts like he doesn’t intend anything and that you need to get your head out of the gutter.

At the end of the session Felix looks divine. Drool leaking down from his bottom lip to his jaw line towards his neck, his bangs sticking on his sweat coated forehead, his chest rising up and down quickly. His eyes rolled at the back of his head, his hands still clutching tightly to the sheets. Faint whimpers and deep breaths filling the air.

Leading up to the after care, his shy self returns. He buries his face to your chest hiding his blushy cheeks beneath the palms of his hands.

He likes to experiment a lot and you are his favorite subject.

It shouldn’t be surprising to find random kink definitions or role-play ideas on the search history of your laptop. After all Felix just asked for it to write an email, that’s all there is to it. That’s until you offer to try them out.

He doesn’t act upon his jealousy, what he does instead is that leaving marks on you especially around your neck and your chest where he knows it will show. Don’t cover them up if you don’t wanna deal with him.

“People just don’t appreciate art anymore.” “Felix these are, hickeys.” “Oh so now you are judging my art medium ?” “Since when proving Sage that I got railed by you is a form of art ?”

I didn’t see anyone point this out but whenever he is in the sub space he tends to be more on the bratty side. He starts of shy but his confidence builds up as the tension rises. Meaning that you should be ready to get your patience tested.

When you two are in separate places your suggestive words and tone leads up to phone sex, which Felix secretly fantasized about a lot. What made everything even more dirty was the fact that you didn’t know that he was laying on your bed surrounded by your scent and humping your pillow. Once you come back home you are greeted with a fresh pair of sheets on your bed. Apparently Felix decided to do you a favor and clean your room as well as the the whole house. He’s crossing fingers that you don’t notice because he knows that he’ll never hear the end of it.

Felix knows a lot about sex but his knowledge is based upon fiction rather than experience. So, naturally, he is more interested about learning specifically how your body responds to certain actions, what you enjoy and what you’re interested in so teach him. He’s a good student and oh well he’s a quick learner.

Pull his hair pull his hair put his hair pull his hair pull his hair pull his hair pull his hair pull his hair.

When he settles between your legs as he ties his hair, he places the hairband between his lips and looks up at you with half lidded eyes. It’s his definition of torture.

Even though he doesn’t give off that vibe, he is very freaky if you would’ve known what his AO3 tags consisted of you would agree.

Tag list is open

#felix escellun #felix #fictif felix #last legacy #fictif #fictif last legacy #nyx hydra #felix escellun x reader #felix x reader #mc #felix fictif

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possiblyimbiassed · 3 years

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The lying liars who lie

Years and years late to the party, I’ve finally gotten my hands on all the DVDs of BBC Sherlock, and I thought it would be fun to watch the extra material carefully, one piece after another, and also listen to at least some of the show makers’ commentary of the episodes. But at this point, after S4 where DVDs seemed to be a constant lying device in general, I tend to look at them with a bit more suspicious eyes...

I still love the show of course, but now that I’ve taken this deep dive into all the special features, I find them a truly hard thing to try to wrap my head around. Even this long after the fact, I’m amazed by the amount of shameless, self-congratulatory BS in the DVDs, where the people involved can’t have enough of complimenting each other and their show, while they skillfully avoid to discuss anything actually meaningful about the plot line. ;) For example, Moffat claims in the S2 DVD that “In fact, you’ll never see a more obsessively authentic version of Sherlock Holmes than this one”. But if we follow their light-hearted commentary, which basically takes the show at face value, I’d call that not just hyperbole, but an outright lie. If you want to see the ‘authentic’ stories from ACD’s work in this show, you’ll definitely need to go much deeper into the subtext and meta levels - neither of which are mentioned on these DVDs of course. Here’s my own (rather subjective) ‘review’ of the whole thing, trying to pinpoint why I view most of the commentary of the show from its own makers as an advanced art of deception.

(My musings under the cut)

Series 1 - a wealth of extra material

First of all - as many of you probably knew already - the whole of the Unaired Pilot is added to the DVD of S1. In the extra material about the making of the series, they (Sue Vertue, Mofftiss and others) talk about what things they changed between the Pilot and ASiP, claiming that many changes were necessary improvements once they knew that they had a whole series and a lot more time at their disposal.

Which I can perfectly understand and agree with in general. But I think what’s missing in their discussions is more interesting than what’s actually there (”Mind the gap” ;) ). Things that I would expect from the show makers when they go to the trouble of comparing the pilot version with the aired product. There’s not a word, for example, about the fact that they added both Mycroft and Moriarty to the story in ASiP - two characters who later turn out to play major roles and appear in almost every other episode until the end of TFP. Or about the choice that one of the screenwriters would play Mycroft.

Neither do they discuss why they chose to relocate the place where Sherlock was challenged by the cabbie from 221B to Roland Kerr’s School of Further Education. Instead they focus on the details, like for example the new design of the interior of 221B.

Not to mention the fact that almost every scene in the Pilot is mirrored in ASiP (as pointed out long ago by @kateis-cakeis X), but at Angelo’s in the Pilot Sherlock follows the events with the cabbie while looking in an actual mirror. I even noticed that in the Pilot the cabbie is offering Sherlock dark-coloured bottles with the pills in them, while in ASiP those bottles are transparent, as if the cabbie is offering Sherlock to play Black or White in the chess game that he is simulating. What’s with all these mirrors, though? Not a word on the DVD... ;)

Now, even though these rather remarkable choices are neglected together with a great bunch of minor ones, I still think that the most interesting fact about all this is that they actually included the whole pilot version within this DVD, which is sold by the franchise. Why even do this, when it raises far more questions than it answers? The only logical reason I can come up with is that they’re laying out a track of little hints that anyone with a deep enough interest in the show to actually buy the DVDs can try to follow. And it seems to me that lying by omission is one of the first steps in the long line of cryptic and misleading author comments on this show. But at the same time, they clearly want the fans to have access to it all, even the abandoned version.

Moving on to Series 2, time for bigger lies

In the extra material of this DVD Benedict himself describes how his character "faces one of his deadliest enemies in the shape of Love, and it comes in the form of Irene Adler, who is this extraordinary dominatrix [insert here a bunch of superlatives regarding Adler]...”. And then we see how Adler whips Sherlock with a riding crop (without any kind of consent, I have to add) while he’s lying on the floor, and we have Lara Pulver telling us how it was to have a go at Benedict on set. So Holmes whips dead bodies and Adler whips living; seems like a match made in hell! :))

Gatiss claims, grinning with his whole face, that “they’re clearly, absolutely made for each other”. OK, so I think we can see Sherlock being intellectually impressed by Adler, and even trying to protect her from Mycroft, and we can see John acting jealously. We can also see her being dressed and styled as a perfect, female mirror of Sherlock. But I’m still at a loss what all this has to do with love on Sherlock’s part? Especially since he’s not even responding in any fashion to her various attempts at seducing him.

And there’s more: Paul McGuigan, the director of ASiB, claims that the scene where Sherlock has a conversation with Adler inside his Mind Palace about the crime case with the car that backfires "is a part of a kind of love story, if you like...” No, I don’t. Maybe it’s just me, but if their aim really was to convey to their audience a love story between Sherlock and The Woman, I think they failed miserably. All I see is a guy ’mansplaining’ to a clever woman how to use her brain, while she’s trying to flirt with him by expressing her admiration (to no avail, though) and make deductions at the same time. Nothing new under the sun, really. John did the same thing repeatedly in ASiP (without making own deductions) and got far more attention from Sherlock, but I’ve never heard any of the show makers call that ”a love story”. But by ’lie-splaining’ the scene with Irene to the audience, they try to manipulate us all to see it as such...

In all the direct commentary of this episode, where Steven, Mark, Sue, Benedict and Lara are present, I get the impression that every time they even touch on the relationship between Sherlock and John, they hurry to add the term “friendship” or “man love” or similar words in case they forgot them at first, avoiding even the tiniest possibility that there could be anything more going on between them. They even explain that when Irene calls them “a couple” she does not mean anything romantic. This whole approach feels almost paranoic in the midst of all the laid-back jokes and light-hearted talk about the filming. It’s as if a sort of restrictive, heteronormative filter or blanket is being constantly applied, to teach the audience the ‘no homo’ lesson of it all. And the more I listen to this, the more tiresome it becomes.

In the commentary Moffat does reveal an interesting detail, though: that the ‘Flight of the Dead’ in ASiB was inspired by a cut out scene in the Bond movie On Her Majesty's Secret Service. To me this is just one more reason to question the ‘authentic’ quality of this scene, as opposed to possibly taking place in Sherlock’s Mind Palace. But I digress...

Listening to the commentary in general, it’s like it’s aimed to distract the attention from what’s going on at the screen rather than highlight it and try to explain their intentions. They do mention that Irene didn’t actually ‘beat’ Sherlock in the end of ASiB, but there’s no explanation of this obvious deviation from canon, where Adler does indeed fool Holmes, taking advantage of his prejudices.

The rest of the extra material of S2 is mostly about technical stuff, special effects and such, and also about filming techniques and Benedict’s delivery of fast deductions. But the part I really do love is the one where Andrew Scott talks about how much he enjoyed playing the scene where Moriarty dances before breaking into the Crown Jewels. That’s one of my favorite scenes of he whole show. :) Also, the takeaway message from this DVD is Moffat’s words at the end:

“These are still the formative years of Sherlock Holmes, and the most important thing about this series is not that it’s updated; it’s the fact that those two men are still young and they’re still at the beginning of what they don’t yet know is gonna be a lifelong partnership”.

And then comes Series 3...

...and its extra material, with the most blatant attempts at deception so far, I believe. At this point Sherlock is called a “psychopath” by both the show’s characters, John’s blog, Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman as if it were true, which is a big deviation from ACD canon. That simply doesn’t happen there; while Holmes is sometimes described as eccentric, no one in the books is ever claiming that Sherlock Holmes has some kind of mental illness leaning towards cruelty and egotism - not even his enemies say this about him. In the show, however, they begin in ASiP with making him torture a dying man for information (something that is not included in the Pilot). And in S3, where they avoid discussing the reason why they turned Mary Morstan into a ruthless assassin, this major shift is glossed over by the fact that in the same episode (HLV) they also turn Sherlock into a murderer, who cold-bloodedly blows the brains out of a blackmailer for threatening to make said assassin’s crimes public.

But without ever getting into the “why” of it all, the cast and crew seem overly happy and smiling describing these rather morbid choices as something positive; “fantastic”, "fresh and new” and "amazing” are their choice of words. Benedict claims that Mary, who has literally shot and almost killed Sherlock in HLV, is now "a new best friend of Sherlock’s”. Amanda claims that Mary “is protecting John” when she shoots Sherlock in the chest. Now they’re both psychopaths, and poor little John is forced to stomach them both because he’s addicted to danger. In Amanda’s words, Mary also “kind of gets in between the two of them, but she wants them to be together as well”. Which is a load of BS considering that Mary tries to kill the protagonist of the story.

Lars Mikkelsen thinks it’s “such a good script” because “you’re mislead as an audience”. But he never gets the chance to expand on what the misleading actually contains, because then Mofftiss cut in to express how much they love playing with “what ifs”. As if this whole mega-budget project of a show were just a big experimental playground without any actual story to tell.

Benedict repeats his line from HLV that Magnussen “preys on people who are different” and Moffat also says he “exploits people who are different”. Which is really confusing, considering what we can see Magnussen actually do in the show. Lady Smallwood and John Garvie are two well-established, powerful governmental politicians whom Magnussen blackmails by finding their respective pressure points. In Garvie’s case his pressure point seems to be alcohol problems in his past, but according to media he’s later arrested on charges of corruption. Lady Smallwood is blackmailed on the basis of her husband having sent compromising letters to a minor many years ago, in spite of later claiming that he thought she was older and stopped when he found out the truth. And then Magnussen is blackmailing an assassin who recently threatened to execute him but shot Sherlock Holmes instead, in order to try to get at Sherlock’s brother Mycroft, another powerful governmental figure.

But what does media seeking out dirt on certain people in power and their families have to do with “people who are different”? Despicable as the method may be, isn’t this unfortunately how political power play usually works in our society? Or are TPTB somehow a repressed minority group now? Unless this whole “people who are different” accusation is actually about something entirely different, something that none of the show makers even cares to mention... ;)

In these DVDs, none of the involved persons is ever discussing the change of roles with regards to canon, though, or the (lack of) logics in this turn of events, or even a hint about the narrative motivation behind them. It’s all about the great Drama, the extraordinary visual effects and the aim to endlessly “surprise the audience”. Which is fine by me to a certain extent, but when this is all that’s being said, it feels extremely superficial, as if the audience is merely seen as a bunch of consumers that have to be triggered more and more by horror, special effects and cliff hangers to be able to appreciate the show. (“Warm paste” indeed, like Gatiss has later criticized some viewers of wanting...) While the "why”; the idea behind this surrealistic adaptation, made by self-proclaimed fanboys of ACD, is not even touched upon. Around this, the silence is total and therefore totally confusing.

Maybe I shouldn’t even go into Series 4...

...but why not, since I’ve already started? :)

First of all, there’s a lot of extra material on this DVD and I particularly love the parts about the music and composing and Arwel Wyn Jones’ work with the design and build-up of John’s and Mary’s flat and the interior of 221B. Those bits are truly enjoyable. What I could live without, though, is the leading commentary that kind of instructs us, the audience, how we should interpret the show.

Benedict is on it again on this DVD, telling us that in TST they picked up where they left off in S3 and “It’s a very happy unit of three people that then become four.” Why does he feel the need to make this statement, considering how S3 ended? Actually, if there’s anything I totally fail to see in S4, it’s happiness. The banter between the three of them may seem entertaining for a while, but who could have a relaxed, warm relationship with someone who tried and almost succeeded to kill you less than a year ago? Without any sign of remorse? Now there’s a dark tone of discomfort and mean jokes that feels forced and not even a bit happy to me.

But Martin tells us how excited John and Mary are about starting a family and Amanda mentions how much they’re looking forward to the baby. Again and again it’s repeated, as though trying to rub it in: “they’re in a good place, they’re a loving, married couple”. Yeah, right - a child that (judging by TSoT) wasn’t at all planned and now with an assassin for a mother... Twice we see the new parents complain that their daughter has the mark of Satan on her forehead and debate which horror movie she’s from. The clichéd hypocrisy of it all is sickening, and I’m willing to bet that it’s really meant to be. ;)

But Gatiss chimes in, deciding for us all that the christening of Rosie is “a funny scene” and “they’re enjoying each other, enjoying being on adventures as a three”.

An interesting detail is that Gatiss also tells us that the working name of this episode was “The Adventure of the Melting power Ranger”. So this little blue guy was that important? :) And - even more interesting - is when he says: “Cake is now the code for violent death”. So how should we interpret Sherlock, John and Molly going out to have cake in TLD then, on Sherlock’s (supposed) birthday?

These might be jokes, though, but when they tell us that Sue cries every time she sees Mary’s death I strongly believe they must be joking. How could anyone feel truly moved by this overly sentimental long monologue where far more efforts are put into reacting to Mary’s speech than saving her life? And John’s mooing like a cow, is that also moving? :)

One thing Martin says about TLD that actually disgusts me is regarding the morgue scene where John assaults Sherlock and Sherlock lets it happen: “From there, really, their relationship can only sort of rebuild, that’s the absolute worst it can get”. As if outright physical abuse would be something that makes you want to rebuild a relationship? Wow - just wow... How far can they go with this crap?

Anyway, when we finally arrive at the absurdity of TFP and Sherlock’s ‘secret sister’, everything is of course discussed as if she actually does exist on the given premises, and everything she does is ‘real’, no matter how impossible it would be in real life. The abandonment of any attempt to have the story line make logical sense is skillfully covered up by more distraction with fascinating technicalities of the film making process. This is where Gatiss makes his now almost classic statement that after Sherlock and John jump out of the window at 221B when a grenade explodes there, it’s just “Boop! And they’re fine.”

Of course there’s no serious attempt at explaining this logically. Except perhaps Gatiss claiming that they both landed on Speedy’s awning - whatever good that would do to them, since the awning is leaning downwards, but never mind... But we never even saw that happen, did we? A great deal of time is then dedicated to show all the precautions to have Martin and Ben jumping safely at low level onto a madras supported by empty cardboard boxes.

Sian Brooke did say something interesting about Sherrinford, however, that got me thinking. She said that Eurus “wants revenge for the years and years that she has been held captive” there, isolated, and that in TFP the Holmes children are now “lab rats” and “it’s an experiment”. On a meta level, I think we can indeed see this episode - and maybe the whole show - as a kind of experiment, but maybe we, the audience, are also lab rats? Since Sherrinford is slightly shaped like a film camera (not commented in the extra material, of course), it leads my thought to all the adaptations through the years and years where Holmes and Watson have not been allowed to be together. A whole century when Sherlock Holmes has been held captive, restricted by the very same sort of heteronormative filter that all this extra material imposes; it’s like Sherrinford, isn’t it? Which gives all the more meaning to Moriarty’s arrival to the island, accompanied by Freddy Mercury’s “I want to break free”...

I think I’ll let the final words in this little exposé come from Mark Gatiss in The Writers’ Chat (my bolding):

“Moriarty is a fascinating thing in that in our sea of ongoing lies, one thing we’ve genuinely been completely consistent about is telling people he’s dead. But no-one believes it! And it’s a rather brilliant thing.” Again - self-congratulatory statements. But instead of providing some actual evidence of the death of this character, who has kept popping up in almost every episode since his supposed demise, they think that the more a confirmed liar repeats something, the truer it gets? And the more we’re supposed to believe them? Well, all we can do is wait and see. :)

Tagging some people who might be interested:

@raggedyblue @ebaeschnbliah @sarahthecoat @gosherlocked @lukessense @sagestreet @thepersianslipper

My earlier meta on a similar topic (X)

#bbc sherlock dvds #Deception in BBC Sherlock

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hufflepuffhollander · 3 years

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drive-in: tom holland one-shot

a/n | in honor of hitting 700 followers and also getting my real life heart broken and needing my unproblematic fictional boyfriend back, here’s an oldie from the drafts.✌🏻 enjoy kiddos

cw | language, angst, a lil smut, teasing banter, fluff! 1.5k words.

“Mmm, darling, let me at you,” Tom mumbled against your lips as you lightly squeezed his shoulders, his hands fidgeting with the hem of your shorts, trying to wriggle them down. Just as he’d made some progress, you heard a loud snicker on the other side of your door.

You pulled your face away from Tom’s and averted your gaze to the front of the room, where you could see two pairs of socks in the crevice between the floor and the door, standing on the other side. Without letting you dismantle from him, he grabbed the nearest pillow and flung it at the wall. “Fuck off, you pervs!” The kid-like chuckles coming from the socks continued.

The sudden interruption had killed the mood, so you just sat in Tom’s lap on his bed and laid your head against his chest, sighing. “Can’t they get a job?”

Tom combed a hand of fingers through your hair. “They do have jobs; they’re professional cockblocks.”

“And they need to work from home?”

“Everybody does, baby. We’re all stuck inside.”

“...right.”

You had to keep shifting around on Tom’s lap, uncomfortable from the sudden lack of pressure of his hands wandering over you. He had just gotten back from a press tour, you’d barely had any alone time with him since—and you were both getting pretty tired of not being able to rip each other’s clothes off like you’d wanted to since the moment he walked through the front door. Finally, you have a couple minutes to sneak away from the roommates you’re stuck quarantining with, and what do they do but follow you to Tom’s bedroom like absolute creeps. Creeps that seem to have a vendetta against you getting off. You’d spent too much time hanging out with them while Tom was gone, and now they were far too comfortable meddling in your personal life.

“How long do you think it’ll be til we’re actually alone again?” you asked, tracing over the freckles on his shoulders.

“I have no idea,” he sighed, falling back onto the pillows. “Who knows how long this will all last.”

“We might have to get pretty creative then, because I’m getting a little-”

“Thirsty?”

You smacked Tom’s arm as he giggled at you.

“I was going to say impatient.”

“So...horny.”

You pouted at him. “Can you blame me for missing you?”

He kissed your cheek and then your nose. “No, love, I missed you too. And if those idiots weren’t within earshot, I would’ve already had you screaming my name three times over by now.”

You kissed him back. “I’m gonna hold you to that.”

Long, countless days went by, the two of you stuck inside with Harrison, Tuwaine and Harry, trying to find a balance between friend time and couple time but failing miserably. The boys had made a bet behind your back on how long they could go before hearing you and Tom having sex through the walls, and they took their gambling way too seriously. It had been too long.

Seeing an ad for a distanced drive-in movie night being hosted at a nearby park, you jumped on the opportunity, convincing Tom to come with just so you could get out of the house. The night finally came, and you flicked off the group of boys as they shouted after you for leaving the bubble, more than ready for a good old fashioned date night.

“They really do hate us,” you chuckled as you zoomed away.

“Nah, babe, they love us—they’re just jealous we didn’t invite them.” He placed his hand on your own and squeezed it, playing with your fingers for the extent of the drive to the park, just as excited as you to get some one-on-one time.

You cozied up in the backseat of the car with Tom, wrapped in fuzzy blankets you’d brought with and watching Titanic on the large screen set up in the grass in front of where you parked. You were intently focused on the movie, as it was one of your favorites, but Tom spent half the time looking at you, feeling you breathe, smiling at the top of your head nestled into his arms.

Up on the screen, Jack and Rose were in that carriage car on the boat, finally getting their big sex scene, starting to steam up the windows. You turned to Tom as you felt him laughing and shaking his head at the movie.

“What’s so funny?”

He pointed at the screen like the characters would be able to hear him. “So unrealistic, isn’t it?”

“Not really, people have sex in cars all the time.”

“No, no, I mean the windows. How did they get so foggy so fast? There’s no way that happens in real life.”

You were suddenly very interested in what Tom had to say and raised an eyebrow as you spoke. “Tom, have you never gotten laid in a car?”

You could see him turn pink with embarrassment through the light emanating off of the movie screen. “I have no comment.”

You nudged him and started to giggle. “Oh my god, you totally haven’t.”

He made an overly dramatic defensive expression at you. “And you have?”

“Actually, yes.”

Tom’s eyes widened a little as he saw where the conversation was headed. Maybe he’d brought it all up intentionally because he felt so deprived of your body, maybe not—but if he had, he was a damn genius, because it was working.

“And it does get that steamy, if you’re doing it right.”

“I guess I’d just have to see for myself.”

He’d barely finished his sentence before you climbed onto him and firmly planted your lips on his. It usually didn’t take much for him to get you excited, just his husky voice and the right lighting; you hadn’t realized until now how pent up you were.

“God, take your clothes off,” he huffed out, wasting no time in getting to work nipping over your skin as it was revealed.

“Charming,” you laughed, working your hands up his torso to get his shirt off too, Tom wincing as you did.

“Oooh, y/n, your hands are so cold!”

“Deal with it, Holland, I’ve waited too long to be stopped by cold hands.”

Tom was getting more riled up by the second, pushing you into the back of the driver’s seat behind you and speaking impossibly low in your ear. “I need you bad.”

“Take me then.”

You’d managed to get practically naked after doing some pretzeling in the backseat, Tom pulling you on top of him again. You tried to get into it but it didn’t last long—the seat was too close to your knees for you to get at a good angle, and you had to duck so your head didn’t hit the roof of the car.

“Okay, maybe lying down-?” Tom pushed your back into the seats, hovering on top and immediately sinking himself into you the moment he got the chance. You took a sharp inhale and already felt a dizzying high.

“God, finally...”

Tom took a few slow, heavy thrusts into you. “Missed you so much baby,” he leaned down to kiss you, your bodies already sticky with sweat from the heat in the car.

Tom suddenly stopped his rhythm and made a face, trying to shift himself around. “What��s wrong?” you asked, whining at the loss of him.

“I barely have room to move my legs,” he groaned, your fingernails still claws on his biceps, begging him to come back.

“Make it work? Just don’t stop fucking me, please,” you pulled his neck back down to bite his bottom lip, knowing that always drives him crazy.

“Fuck, I know, let me try something...” he found another sweet spot and was suddenly filling you up again, his flushed breaths and small mews making you smile underneath him. It wasn’t graceful, but you made it happen.

You came together as Jack and Rose professed their love for each other, making the romantic scene all too fitting. Tom moved to give you space to sit up, putting his face in his hands and sounding defeated. “Car sex looks a lot easier in the movies.”

You giggled at him and put your clothes back on before someone peeped into the now-clouded window. “Told you it gets steamy.”

Arriving back home later, Harrison and Harry sat at the kitchen table looking like two angry parents about to lecture their teenager on keeping curfew. They stared as you and Tom came in together with arms wrapped around each other, skin looking happily flushed, faces practically glowing.

“What’s got you two lovebirds so happy?” Harrison asked.

“Oh, it was just a really good movie,” Tom smiled, taking your hand and leading you back to his bedroom. “We’re wiped. Goodnight!” he promptly shut the door and laughed with you at Harrison’s puzzled face.

Harry walked over and peered down the hallway. “Goodnight? But it’s barely past sundown-”

Harrison patted him on the shoulder. “I’m afraid you might owe me a few quid, bud.”

Harry stayed confused. “Why?”

Tuwaine appeared from his room, pulling his gaming headphones aside to yell his reply down the hallway. “They fucked, you div!”

Harry connected the dots and looked like he was going to be sick. “Ugh, gross! That’s my brother!”

moots & taglist if y’all still exist:

@peterspideysstuff @duskholland @sinisterspidey @ladykxxx08 @bothlovinglyandhatingly @tinyyoungblood @harrisonsoceaneyes @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @we--are---not--afraid @danicarosaline @bunbun9396 @sad-thinker-over @spideymoe @words-to-accomplish-something @thenoddingbunny-blog @iriaaarb @hellsdragon @cap-marvxl @tomshufflepuff @itstaskeen @writertoo18 @ethereal-beauty-p @sufwubi @quaksonhehe @biebsmylife95 @fermuda2 @dorbiksbitch @jejegu @holyfrickfracks @iconic-hes @parker-hollandx @keithseabrook27 @sovereignparker @mlmarint @bangtanfancamp @quacksonholland @cosagach @hedwigprewett12

#tom holland #tom holland one shot #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland smut #tomholland #tomhollandoneshot #tomhollandfanfic #tomhollandsmut #bye again

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zv5x · 3 years

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Hey guys! An anon requested some Yandere ABC'S with Sen, but I had to reupload cause the formatting was wrong!!! I hope it works this time, and I hope you find it anon! Let me know if you did!

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Hey Anon! Don't worry, requests are open permanently! So feel free to request as much as you want! I'm so glad you enjoy my writings, that makes me feel so happy! I hope you enjoy the ABC's prompt and I hope I did a good job! (*´ω｀*) Stay safe and take care of yourself, you're valid and loved! ( :̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get? - Sen is a major giftgiver. So, expect him to really paint his love for you with lavish spending. Also, along with that, he's a hopeless romantic. So be sure to expect love letters and love notes to be littered around your apartment (whether or not he had permission to be where he placed them...that's up for debate). You met Senpai when you stumbled across his game, and were there to play it before you discovered a way to get him out. So, he was just as affectionate as your average visual novel character. Meaning, he's basically infinitely affectionate. He's very gentlemenly as well: kissing the top of your hand and brushing his lips against the tips of your fingers, helping you get ready each morning (he has to, considering you're literally restrained and rendered unable to do so), and other things. Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling? - I always imagined Sen to be more of a yandere "stereotype" considering his source (a cheesy Japanese romance game with pretty pastel colors and overly sweet and cheesy dialogue). So, Senpai would in that case be willing to make his murders messy. Their lives don't matter to Senpai, and he'll gladly paint a pretty picture of romance with their blood. He'd do anything to emphasize the fact that you belong to him and him alone. Not to those filthy, impure worms. Cruelty: How would they treat their darling when they're abducted? Would they mock them? - Senpai has a bit of an ego problem. So, if he feels it necessary, he'll gladly make you feel inferior to him. "Out of the hundreds of people in the school, you're the one that I long for so strongly. Shouldn't you be greatful for that? I'm sure there's people willing to eat themselves alive just to be in your place." Among other similar statements. Senpai isn't physically cruel unless giving out punishments for "bad behavior", so that's something to be greatful about I suppose. Even with the taunts and reprimands he speaks to you, he doesn't really mean them. Especially the ones about you being inferior in any regard. You're the definition of perfection in his eyes, to the extent he doesn't even really see himself being worthy of your love. But, nobody else is either. While he's not 100% worthy of an angel like you being by his side, he's more worthy than the people that surround the two of you. Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will? - Just like Spirit, the only other things he'd do against your will is take away your rights to freedom, family, friends, along with some other similar things. He doesn't want to traumatize you, and as much as his actions contradict the idea that he's far from a monster, he's truly not. He just wants what's best for your love. Is that really something that's worthy of him being called a monster? Senpai doesn't think so, not one bit. Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling? - All of it. His heart is an open book. Senpai wants to woo you, he wants you to know how adored you truly are. He wants you to know how much space you take up in his heart, and he'll do anything to show that to you. Whether it be by taking you out to a nice dinner after you've been on your best behavior for a while, or by murdering past enemies or foes, Sen will do virtually anything Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back? - Completely and utterly heartbroken. How could you, (Y/N)? Here he is, your precious and beloved Senpai, just wanting to take care of you, and this is the thanks he get's? Senpai's little heart will be absolutely crushed, and he'll be sure

to let you know that, even while he's angerly punishing you. Being the main love interest is literally in his code, basically the A.I. equivalent to DNA. He's not used to not winning a person's heart the minute he expresses interest, especially the heart of someone he's putting all his effort into romantically seducing. Senpai will go ballistic after such a rejection, throwing the closest thing to a toddler's temper tantrum that you'll be able to see in an almost full grown adult. Screaming, stomping, crying tears of pure rage, Senpai will display all of it right for you to witness in absolute fear and horror. Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape? - Is this a game to Senpai? Well, yeah. But only considering he's literally a game character himself. He still sees this as the silly dating mechanics from his own game. Even if this is real life, and even if this is completely against your will. He's not used to anything else, so he'll continue living his life and gaining your love the way he's been built to. Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them? - You're not really in the position to cheat on him considering he's holding you in complete isolation, but if you were to cheat on him? Whoo boy. Sen would react in a similar way to Spirit would, only 100x worse. The psychotic laugh yanderes are so infamous for, the brutality, the murder, and then the confrontation of you. A cheater, a liar, a betrayer. You'll pay for what you've done to Senpai, you won't get away with thinking you could pull him around like a toy. He loves you, but now he sees no other option, you must die for what you've done to him. It won't be quick either. No, you're going to feel exactly what you made him feel the moment he found you cheating on him. It's only fair, after all. An eye for an eye. But don't worry, your body will be in good hands! Senpai will still take care of you, and he forgives you for what you've done! Now the two of you can be happy together once again! No more distractions this time! Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling? - The usual...marriage, honeymoon, perhaps some kids or pets (but only if you want them, of course!). Senpai is really up to any kind of future, as long as it's with you, his beloved Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope? - Senpai is EXTREMELY jealous. He's suspicious of basically everyone you come into contact with, and you're always having to deal with him wrapping his arms around you from behind and gently laying down some boundaries for whoever you're just trying to talk to. Expect a few statements like/similar to, "Hey, worm! They're mine!", considering Sen is always trying to show people just how much you belong to him Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling? - Like some kind of flawless prince, but you know damn well that it's just a facade. He tries very hard to keep his yan tendencies hidden from you, but his emotional instability makes him fail miserably at that. But, that doesn't take away from the fact that he's *usually* acting very cool and charismatic Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling? - The usual things you'd see from a hopeless romantic...love letters, cards, poems, hand kisses, dinner dates, and everything else lovey dovey that people do to show a certain person how much they love them. Being a dating game character, Senpai is VERY good at courting anyone he seems romantically compatible Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else? - His true colors are different from the way he tries to appear, but they come out so much that the people closest to him (specifically meaning you, and only you, as all of his other friends are just a.i. in the game that he once took residence in)) consider it apart of his actual personality Naughty: How would they punish their darling? - Probably just by breaking things around the two of them as he screams at them

for whatever they did to anger him. Senpai is very childish, especially when he's rejected, but he's still able to be calmed. You just need to know exactly what to say and when to say it. Which...is shockingly hard, considering how unpredictable Senpai can be Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling? - Just like Spirit, he won't really take away any. But, he'll take away all of it if he feels as if he has to Patience: How patient are they with their darling? - Senpai's patience is quite literally in the lowest of negative numbers, so tread lightly, (Y/N). The slightest and smallest things can set Senpai into hour long rages Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on? - No. Not at all. Senpai would be absolutely devastated. He wouldn't be able to move on, you were his absolute everything. He can't imagine living a life without you, and he won't. Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go? - Regret? No! Absolutely not! Why should Senpai feel any regret? For loving his darling angel? No. That's nothing but foolish. There is no room for regret or shame in Senpai's heart, only love for you Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)? - Rejection is against Senpai's code. You weren't supposed to not want him romantically. Because of this, Senpai quite literally doesn't know how to react. So, he acts...insane? Obsessed? Call it what you want, but make sure its definition doesn't neglect his love for you. Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves? - Senpai would probably just get angrier. Why are you so upset?! Just love him, for fucks sake!! He just wants to take care of you, why won't you just let him? Stop being so difficult, let him take over, and things will be so much better for you! Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere? - Not really. Senpai is pretty much a walking stereotype, with a few small changes here and there. Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape? - His lovesickness, probably. Escaping Senpai would be hard to say the least, but not impossible. Just do the usual, try and act like a sufferer of Stockholm Syndrome and maybe you'll have a good chance at getting away from him Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling? - Without hesitation. If he needs to do it to get his point across, Sen would do it without hesitation. It's all for you, that fact alone removes any chance of hesitation or remorse Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over? - Senpai practically treats you like some overglorified love deity, the definition of a perfect partner. Perfect for him, at least. His entire heart is like an open book, but one that only you can read clearly. It's all for you, after all. Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap? - He's good up until he witnesses even the slightest sign of distance or rejection, then he snaps Zenith: Would they ever break their darling? - Like hurting you, he'd do it without any hesitation. It means nothing to him, unlike you. You mean everything, and he'd do everything and anything for you. This is basically nothing to him. He loves you, after all! More than anything else in his world.

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klutzyzombie · 4 years

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Summary: From a young age, Bakugou Katsuki is told his hearing will continue to fade with use of his explosive quirk. He's given hearing aids to help when he reaches high school but refuses to wear them because what pro hero wears those? It takes some red-headed courage to convince him otherwise. Characters: Bakugou Katsuki, Eijirou Kirishima, Ashido Mina, Denki Kaminari, Sero Hanta Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki & Kirishima Eijirou (KiriBaku) Rating: General Warnings: N/A Words: 6,701 Notes: So this is my first official fic for this fandom and I don't exactly have anyone to proofread this so I sincerely apologize if it's out of character and for the errors! This was written from my own experiences with going deaf and requiring hearing aids and how I felt about it when I was first told. It seemed like something Bakugou may have also felt so you'll have to excuse me projecting~

**Please note that when a character is signing, it will be italicized.

Ao3: [click here!]

He started losing his hearing in grade school. He had been about eight when his family took him to get his ears checked when his grades slipped and he continued to miss things said at home. From there he was bounced from doctor to doctor but the general consensus was the same; his quirk was causing him to go deaf. It made sense really; continued exposure to loud constant boom’s. Like playing a rock concert next to the amp turned up all the way. It was bound to happen the second his quirk manifested and the decision to be a pro hero was made.

They recommended easing down on use of his quirk unless the situation called for it to try and put off the inevitable, but that wasn’t about to happen. Pro heroes in training needed to have master over their own quirks! So they also suggested hearing aids which Katsuki was against. What pro hero wore those tacky things?! For now, his hearing loss was manageable, but if Katsuki was keen on becoming a hero (and he was; even eight year old Katsuki knew this) then the doctors expected his hearing to be practically gone by the time he was in his late teens.

So the Bakugou family learned sign language as a safety net and as he grew, his hearing faded more and more as expected. It became Katsuki’s new normal for things to be a little jumbled and almost like people were talking underwater if they weren’t close enough or if they soft spoken. Maybe that was why as got older he had a tendency to yell constantly, his voice growing a little more gruff with age as well. He’d also picked up on lip reading which was immensely helpful in middle school as he refused to tell a teacher he couldn’t hear them or ask to sit in the front. It wasn’t going to be the future he imagined when he was a kid, but hey, he was Bakugou fucking Katsuki! He wasn’t about to let something like hearing loss stop him from becoming the next number one hero! He was nothing but goal driven from a young age, refusing to tell anyone about what he deemed to be his biggest weakness, preferring to make due with his lip reading. When his acceptance into U.A. was announced, his parents made a decision and while he fought tooth and nail – literally – he was fitted for a pair of hearing aids.

U.A. was everything he had hoped it would be as a child (though he could have done without the damn nerd also getting in and sitting right behind him) and much to his utter chagrin, he even made a few friends despite the fact that he’d never refer to them as such. They were more like a few idiots who wouldn't know how to fuck off if their lives depended on it. One such of these idiots and the biggest offender was Kirishima who, from day one, seemed to latch on to Katsuki. It was annoying at first; sure he had ‘friends’ in middle school but they were more afraid of him and only followed him as some sort of leader or popularity magnet. Kirishima just- liked him. For him! There wasn’t any fear and he damn sure wasn’t getting popular by hanging around Katsuki. If anything that was reversed since the stupid idiot seemed to be friends with just about everyone to varying degrees.

And Katsuki wanted to hate it- hate HIM because he didn’t need friends let alone overly enthusiastic idiot friends and with Kirishima deeming him ‘friendly’, the rest of the idiot brigade followed suit. Before Katsuki knew what had happened, Kaminari had wormed his way into his and Kirishima’s study sessions, Ashido had started tugging on his arm in her bubbly excitement at something or another, and Sero had taken too confining in him about whatever trouble had been on his mind. Bakugou Katsuki had actual honest to god friends and it was Kirishima’s fault. It hit him one night after moving into the dorms after he’d been dragged to watch a movie in Kirishima’s room. Like, forcefully dragged and as they sat there, watching as Iron Man and Captain America did some epic team up move on some aliens, he realized he was actually enjoying himself around these idiots.

He wasn’t supposed to be fond of the dunces. He didn’t need anyone and after the hero exam he and Todoroki failed, he tried to go back to how things were. Katsuki didn’t need friends and Kirishima and Kaminari passing while he failed was proof of that. So he separated himself from them. Well, he tried to at least. It wasn’t easy to do since the clingy idiots couldn’t take a hint if he stapled it to their faces. It was exhausting and when he did finally manage it, about a week into his granted alone time he was miserable and angry and ended up back on Kirishima’s bed while he and Kaminari played some game on Kaminari’s Switch.

He couldn’t shake the idiots he unwillingly befriended and he whole heartedly blamed Kirishima for all of it. On a rare weekend home, he was bitching to his mom about the annoyances who kept blowing up his phone with their stupid ‘Bakusquad’ group text. Mitsuki was sitting at the kitchen table with designs and fabrics spread out while Katsuki ranted on. She hadn’t known her comment about him being popular due to his phone’s continued dinging would lead to this, but now it was hard to stop the small smile building as he went on and on about them. Something he pointed out to her with annoyance.

‘Sorry, it’s just nice to know you have actual friends! Finally.’

“I can fuckin’ hear you, hag!” Katsuki snapped.

‘Are you sure? I don’t see your hearing aids in.’

His response to that was to simply flip her off as he marched out of the room. “I’m not going to wear those fuckin’ things.”

“Katsuki!” They had this argument so many times now he could almost recite it word for word. It was what she always said since the moment they picked up the stupid devices. 'Wear them!' 'Are you wearing them?' 'How is training with the hearing aids working out?' Every damn time she called it was the same song and dance and it was getting more and more irritating every time she brought the damn things up! He could picture her pushing away from the table and marching after him so it wasn’t a surprise when her raised voice shouted after him. “We spent good money-“

“’-on those things so the least I could do is wear them’! Get a new speech! I don't fuckin' need them because I can still hear just fine!” There was an uncharacteristic pause after that and he wheeled around to glare at her, to see what she was trying to prove, only to see Mitsuki giving him a pointed look. “What?!”

‘I said if that was true, then you would be able to hear me.’ She signed while speaking. Well, he assumed she was. Her lips were moving and he could hear a faint sound that was in teh same tone as her voice, but couldn't quite make out the words. Katsuki stood there, red eyes narrowed at her which was a look she was mirroring back at him for all of a few seconds before she sighed, expression softening. ‘Katsuki, it’s gotten worse since you started high school. I’ve been practically yelling at you just so you’d hear me since you got home.’ The look on his face must have been horrified because his mom’s melted from fond annoyance to one of almost-pity. She lifted her hands to sign something else but he quickly turned and marched back up to his room to finish getting ready to head back to the dorms. He hated that look on her. Hated that look on anyone and he didn't need her to see that she was right. That his hearing really had gotten worse. It would make sense that it had, he guessed. He went from only training with his quirk a few times a week to preserve his hearing to using it about daily for hours on end.

So then why hadn’t he noticed it?

He guessed the whole ‘it’s a gradual process’ thing could be a factor and if he thought about it, he was having a harder time hearing Aizawa now. Deku’s muttering had also seemed to bother him less as of late and it damn sure wasn’t because the nerd had suddenly stopped the habit he’d had since they were kids. His hearing really had faded drastically in just under a year and that was a reality check.

One he also apparently wasn’t great at hiding because a few days back in school had Kirishima draping an arm across his shoulders in the locker room. He had a habit of doing that no matter what murderous look was on Katsuki's face and today when he went to shoot a glare at the red head - one he knew would just be ignored- he was met with a concerned look on Kirishima's face. “Yo man, you good? You’ve seemed kinda…”

“Extra murder-y.” Kaminari supplied.

Katsuki and Kirishima shot him a look, Katsuki’s much more threatening, but he went on. “Is everything alright? You know you can always talk to me!”

“Fuck off, I’m fine.” Was his eloquent reply and he knew Kirishima wasn’t convinced, but the red head knew enough about him to know to drop it. The look that now shifted across his face was proof he knew something was up, but he turned back to talking about some new show with Kaminari and Sero to make sure nobody else tried to take the opportunity to ask Katsuki about his oh so chipper mood. Kirishima was good at reading him like that. He seemed to always know what Katsuki meant or needed in the moment. It would be endearing if it wasn’t also equal parts annoying. Sometimes he wished the idiot would remember how damn powerful Katsuki was! But then again, Kirishima was also the perfect foil to him.

He watched as said boy grinned and laughed at something Kaminari had said, head tilting back slightly from the force of it. He was so stupidly friendly and he seemed to really want to be Katsuki’s friend if not his best one. He liked to proclaim as such at least and he guessed it was true to a degree. Kirishima knew him better than anyone else probably did and just how that happened should be concering. Just when had he allowed the idiot to figure him out so well?

Katsuki looked back at his locker with a huff, not about to give Kirishima another reason to ask about his mood again. He looked at his mask and the orange and black wing tips behind it. Looked at the orange X crossing the otherwise all black uniform. Looked at the matching heavy-duty boots and belt that housed mini versions of his quirk. Looked at how the entire ensemble represented everything he wanted to become and how his stupid hearing was likely to take all of that away.

He slammed the locker shut with more force than needed, meeting Kirishima’s gaze as he glanced over at the sound. “Meet me after dinner.” He said simply, walking off before he could see or hear the red head’s reaction.

---

Katsuki was a proud person and that was a fact that was well know. He never needed and never asked for help. He was self-sufficient and refused to lean on others to get to where he wanted to be. So reaching out to Kirishima about this was going to be a challenge. Said teen had been in his room for going on ten minutes, silently watching and waiting, sitting in his deskchair backwards as Katsuki glared daggers at the ground. It would be unnerving to have the talkative bastard so quiet if it wasn’t once again proof how well Kirishimia knew him; knew whatever was on his mind was heavy enough to make him clearly agitated and extra moody. This fact had him glance up so red eyes could meet red and at Kirishima’s concerned but patient face, he sighed and looked away.

“I can barely fuckin’ hear.” He admitted like it was the biggest secret he’d ever be forced to admit because to him, it was.

“Yeah?” Kirishima sounded confused but not in the way he had been anticipating. He was confused like you had just told him Ashido’s favorite color was pink. Like what Katsuki had just said was common knowledge.

This had Katsuki whipping his head back to look at him. “’Yeah’?! The fuck does that mean?!”

Kirishima tilted his head like he did when he could tell Katsuki was upset with him but didn’t know why. “It means yeah? Like, yeah I know?”

It was Katsuki’s turn to be confused now. “You know?”

“Dude, if it was supposed to be a secret, your awful at hiding it!” Kirishima laughed and he glared at him for it. This was supposed to be his close kept secret! His weakness nobody, except for maybe Deku, knew! Kirishima seemed to understand his inner turmoil (because of course he would) and gave the teen a small smile, moving to rub the back of his neck. “Well, maybe it just was to me? I dunno, man. I noticed from the quirk assessment we had on the first day.”

“How?!” His voice sounded more confused than annoyed.

Kirishima shrugged and moved his toe against the floor a bit to slightly spin the chair he was sitting on. A nervous habit he’d get when he was the center of attention, Katsuki noted. “You just weren’t responding to anyone. First I thought you were just kinda an asshole and ignoring people, ya know?” He looked back up at him with a grin. “But then when Aizawa-Sensei would repeat something louder and you’d respond and I saw your quirk in action, I guess I just put two-and-two together. I didn’t know it was some big secret though.”

“It’s not!” Katsuki was quick to snap but that wasn’t really true. It clearly was or his heart wouldn’t have dropped when he realized Kirishima had figured it out within hours of meeting him. He huffed to himself, not wanting to snap at Kirishima over his own overlook and looked away again, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Does anyone else know?”

Kirishima hummed in thought, looking up at the ceiling. “I think all of us kinda know somethings up to varying degrees.” He must have heard the speed at which Katsuki whipped his head around because Kirishima quickly clarified, “I mean those of us in the squad. Kaminari talks louder when he’s around us. Ashido and Sero started too as well after they hung out with us for a while. I suppose it also helps that the four of us are naturally loud anyway, but they definatley talk up and more clear when they're with us.”

Katsuki just looked at him stunned. They had all figured it out? And they hadn’t ever commented on it? Made it a point to make a joke about it? Tease him about it like they endlessly teased him about everything else? They had just started to talk louder for his sake?! Here he thought they were just obnoxious assholes…

Kirishima seemed to notice his lack of anger and response and crossed his arms over the back of the chair he was sitting on, resting his head on them as he studied Katsuki carefully. “Is this what’s been bothering you?”

Katsuki shot him a glare before huffing and looking away again. A nonverbal yes before he sighed, eyes closing. His mind was still reeling from the knowledge that not only did the other idiots figure it out, but that they had all apparently silently just decided to not talk about it and simply speak up and clearer so he could hear them all better. He had a plan going into this. He was going to tell Kirishima he was hard of hearing, tell him he’d known it was coming, and how he was supposed to wear hearing aids. He had planned for questions and for almost snapping at Kirishima for giving him a pitying look before quickly covering it up because Kirishima knew he hated pity. He had expected this conversation to go the opposite direction it had gone and now he was at a loss.

“They…" How was he supposed to proceed now?! "I’m supposed to wear hearing aids.” He blurted out quietly, almost hoping Kirishima didn’t hear him.

But of course he did. “So why don’t you?”

“Are you stupid?!” Kirishima frowned. It wasn’t pity on his face but almost like disappointment? That look was somehow worse and Katsuki quickly looked away from him again. “I can’t be number one like that.”

“So you’d rather just not be at your best then?”

Wellp. Anger was back. Least that was familiar over the weird sensation knowing his friends never brought up his hearing had left him with. He jerked back to face Kirishima, on his feet before he even registered he’d moved. Kirishima just looked at him with same look he had on earlier. “What?!”

“You can’t be your best if you aren’t even going to work with something that improves your skills.” Kirishima repeated, apparently oblivious to the absolute inferno of anger his words had lit. “Dude, you can’t stand there and tell me with a straight face you’d be at your absolute best going into situations as you are when you could be going in with your senses heightened. That would be like fighting with one hand tied behind you back all the time! It doesn’t make any sense, man!”

Katsuki stood where he was, keeping Kirishima’s gaze which had narrowed. It wasn’t anger, but the look he got when determination had set in and he wasn’t about to even think about budging on something. Katsuki liked to imagine it was the look he had when he tried to convince their classmates to come to Kamino Ward. What made it worse this go around was that, well, Katsuki knew he was right. “Tch.” He turned and stalked back to his bed before slumping down on it, glaring up at the ceiling as if it had personally wronged him. “What pro hero do you know wears hearing aids, shitty hair?”

“You?” That answer had Katsuki turn to shoot him a ‘stop bullshitting’ look but Kirishima’s face was so purely earnest the words died on his tongue. “Sure none of the current pros do, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be the first! I bet they’ll even make some with little orange X’s on them! That would be so cool!” He gave Katsuki one of those toothy grins that rivaled the sun in brightness and it took all Katsuki had not to smile at him in return.

He scoffed and looked away instead. “You’re an idiot.”

“Maybe, but I’m right about this!” Kirishima stood up and moved to sit beside his feet on the bed. “You always are the first and best at everything. Wouldn't it be super manly to be the representation to little kids you want now?” Katsuki didn’t say anything, afraid speaking might betray how hot his face was starting to feel at Kirishima’s unbridled admiration. “Besides think of all the cool ways you could make them look! I bet you could get them like, orange to match your uniform or-!”

“They’re already orange.” Kirishima turned to look at him and Katsuki rolled his eyes at the awe on the red heads face. He knew what was coming without Kirishima even asking so he sat up to pull a small box from the far corner of his nightstand. He tossed it to Kirishima who caught and opened it, eyes growing wide.

“Dude, these look so cool!”

“No they fuckin’ don’t. Don’t lie to me-“

“I’m not, man! Dude, picture this.” He picked one of them up and held it so Katsuki could see before splaying his other fingers out behind it. “You could have them as part of you mask! I bet support could even make some super badass ones that could have another dual factor! Maybe even like Mic’s speaker thing? No, I guess that wouldn’t make sense. But maybe they can block out certain things? Like Shinsou’s quirk! Oh man, you’re an even better match for him now! Just turn them off and you can’t even hear him!” Kirishima went into a rant about all the things he thought the stupid device in his hand could be used for and honestly Katsuki wasn’t hearing any of it but not because of the hearing loss. He just watched the idiot talk, watched his lips move and hands gesture. Watched as he’d occasionally laugh at something he’d thought of and how his smile reached his eyes when he did. How he was so excited just to sit here and come up with dumb ideas and how happy he was that Katsuki was potentially going to be an even better hero.

That thought alone made Katsuki’s heart jump again. Kirishima had really meant it about being an example. He really did think wearing the stupid devices would make him a better hero. Didn’t think it would make him any less of a person or any less of a pro. Kirishima genuinely didn’t think less or pity him for it and it actually seemed like he was furious that Katsuki would risk throwing his own dream of being a hero away just because of two tiny devices that would help him.

It was almost too much for him.

“You’re an idiot.” He repeated. Kirishima stopped talking and looked at him. He was still smiling and Katsuki was willing to bet that he was too if the slight tug at his lips was any indicator. “Fuckin’-! Fine, you rambling moron. I’ll wear the damn things tomorrow.”

The grin he got in return had to rival the brightest light in the galaxy and before he could open his mouth to warn against it, Kirishima tackled him back on the bed. The curses and explosions he sent in return were simply laughed off and otherwise ignored.

---

True to his word, Katsuki stood in front of his mirror with the small devices in his hand. He looked at his reflection without them, took in the way he looked one last time as if he could never go back to this look before sliding them in and turning them on as he remembered the doctor demonstrating. He winced at the resistance he was met with as they flickered to life but looked back at his reflection once they were snugly in and properly adjusted. His hair hid them for the most part, ash blond strands hanging low enough that unless he really looked, he couldn’t see them. Maybe that meant nobody else would since he was actually looking for them. He let out a sigh and turned to grab his bag. He doubted that severely. He swore quietly to himself, ignoring how it actually wasn't as quiet as he thought, and started the trek to class.

The walk out of the dorms and into the school was… different? He could hear things he hadn’t otherwise heard before. He could hear birds chirping in the trees he walked under, bits and pieces of conversations of the people he passed, that one weirdo from 1-B saying something and even the faint smack that followed as that orange haired chick apologized for him. It was almost like he’d been listening to the TV volume only turned up to 2 and now suddenly it was changed to 10. It would be overwhelming if he were anyone else, he guessed. Katsuki imagined this is what those videos of colorblind people wearing those special glasses was like. To experience the world with a sense that was dulled for so long only to be informed that said sense could be much better.

He’d spent so much time glaring at the stupid things and then fiddling with them to get them adjusted that he’d been beaten to class by the self proclaimed ‘Bakusquad’. Kirishima was sitting on Sero's desk facing the door and when he spotted Katsuki, broke back out into that same grin he did that rivaled the light flickering in from the windows. “Hey, Bakugou!” He raised an arm in greeting, grabbing the attention of the other idiots who all turned to greet him though not as enthusiastically as Kirishima. Not much of a surprise considering the red head was very clearly the only morning person among them.

Katsuki tsk'ed in greeting but Kirishima seemed to be studying him harder than usual and it was pretty clear what he was searching for. So with a roll of his eyes, Katsuki turned his head slightly so Kirishima could see the small bit of orange poking out from under his hair and if the smile he was greeted with was bright, this one was blinding. He didn’t say anything much to Katsuki's relief, just looked back at Kaminari despite his grin not fading as Katsuki walked over to his desk and tossed his bag down. Such a stupid little thing and Kirishima was grinning like he'd won the lottery.

Class was almost night and day.

He could hear Aizawa’s lazy tone easily, better than he had ever remembered being able to. He didn't need to rely on his handouts and the board to take notes. It was considerably easier to understand Ectoplasm now too and, much to his sheer and utter annoyance, he could hear Deku muttering to himself again. It was annoying, sure, and he almost considered taking the stupid things out to prevent it, but the fact that he actually could stopped him. Even Deku's muttering couldn't quite distract from the almost wonder he had. He could also pick up on Kaminari and Kirishima whispering though he coldn't make out what. (Probably about the math problem Ectoplasm just wrote down.)

The lunchroom was another experience. He hadn’t ever heard it this loud and he muttered to Sero if something special was happening because of the noise before Sero eyed him confused and said it was always this loud. Huh. He knew it should be considering the amount of teenagers cramed into it, but the thought hadn't really ever crossed his mind just how loud it should be. It was almost painful. Their usual table was at least a little quieter since it was in the far back. Katsuki was actually able to hear Kaminari approaching without relying on the slight ting of electricity in the air that usually was his give away. He looked up and watched as he and Kirishima stepped over towards them, caught up in some conversation about something, only stopping when Kirishima moved away and took his usual spot beside Katsuki while Kaminari went to sit in front of him.

“Hey, Bakubro! You look-“

Katsuki winced. “Fuck, can you maybe not talk so damn loud?!” He brought his hands up to his ears, wincing as they gave off feedback which he assumed was due to the mentioned static Kaminari gave off. Maybe he really should speak to support about upgrading them if he was going to start using them more. Wait, was that going to be a thing? He'd told Kirishima he'd wear them today; not from then on. When had he decided this was going to be a permanent thing?

He was lost in his own thoughts about if this so he missed the way Sero, Ashido, and Kaminari looked at each other, then at him, then back to one another. “Uh? He’s talking like he usually does. Which yeah, it’s loud, but it’s his usual volume.” Sero defended, looking all the world like Katsuki had just started sprouting a second head.

Shit.

Katsuki huffed and looked down pointedly at his lunch, taking a bite of rice to further avoid meeting their gaze. “Well tone it the fuck down, dunce-face.”

Kirishima was pointedly quiet while the three others sat in silence for a joyous and nerve wracking moment. He wondered briefly if they would just drop it, but no, he was never that lucky. He heard a gasp, knew it was Ashido, and jerked his gaze back up just as she leaned across the table and reached over to move his hair aside. “You got hearing aids!”

“Fuckin’-! Don’t touch me!” He swatted her hand away but the damage was done.

She was grinning from ear to ear and practically bouncing in her seat. “Oh my gosh, they look so good! That color is going to match your uniform perfectly!”

“Nice, dude! When did you get those?”

“Does this mean you’ll answer when I ask you for help now?”

“I think he was just always ignoring you, Kami.”

"What? No! Why would he do that?"

"Because you ask him for answers on every problem rather than how to solve it?"

Bakugou watched the three teens in front of him suddenly turn on Kaminari, laughing at the other blond’s expense. They hadn’t even flinched at him wearing them! No jokes, no sympathetic looks, nothing! They just took it in stride as if he’d said the weather outside was cool. He looked over at Kirishima to get confirmation that he wasn’t insane and they had really found out what he deemed his weakness. Kirishima met his gaze with a knowing grin and a shrug of his shoulders, a silent ‘I-told-you-it-wasn’t-a-big-deal’ look on his face. Katsuki shot him a glare but turned back to his meal to try and hide the smile he knew would betray any small amount of anger it may have had.

They didn't seem to care. He'd spent so much of his life dreading the day he'd have to wear these stupid things. Dreading the way people would look at or perceive him. He was Bakugou Katsuki and the only way he should be looked at was with admiration or fear; not pity or sympathy, and he whole heartedly believed that was going to be the outcome wearing these would bring. He expected the three idiots in front of him to make a huge ordeal about it, but they just seemed relieved and excited. Just like Kirishima had been.

Maybe having friends wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

---

After that, Katsuki wore them daily. They became second nature from then on and he wanted to be surprised that nobody seemed to even flinch at them, but after seeing his friend’s reactions, he really wasn't. What was supposed to be a weakness was nothing more than another area he could work with. Something Katsuki could train and hone like his quirk. He’d even followed Kirishima’s idea and got a pair that would work with his mask. They got upgraded to protect his remaining hearing from his explosions while enhancing it. His regular ones got an upgrade as well so they’d stop sending him feedback every time Kaminari got within a foot of him which spared Kaminari getting threatened and snapped at so it was a win for him as well. (Both pairs were returned black with an orange X printed on them and Kirishima swore he knew nothing about it.)

Months passed and it was hard to imagine he’d ever put up such a fight to wear the stupid things. They really did make a difference and it was even better knowing nobody felt the need to shout at him. Part of him wondered just how many people did but also didn’t think his pride could risk asking. It was like nothing had changed and while he wouldn’t ever admit it, it was apparent he had worried and put this off for absolutely no reason. His friends rolled with it like nothing had happened and that alone, while he refused to admit it, was the real reason he continued to keep it up after the first day. The idiots seemed to be full of surprises, especially Kirishima.

So it really shouldn’t have been a surprise what happened one night during the middle of their second year. The pair were up late in Bakugou’s room going over the latest math homework they’d been given. Well, more like Katsuki was going over Kirishima’s since his was already finished. At some point he’d taken his hearing aids out figuring he wouldn’t really need them in the quiet of his room.

He marked one last problem Kirishima needed to look over and handed the paper back. The red head took it then asked ‘Do you want to go get something to eat?’

“Yeah sure.”

He pushed himself up and brought an arm back behind his head to stretch it out and then it dawned on him. Kirishima hadn’t spoken. His lips hadn’t moved.

“What?!”

Kirishima startled at his yelling. “I asked-“

“I know what you asked!” Katsuki was pretty sure he must look strange because Kirishima was looking at him with sheer, utter confusion. “It’s- it’s how you asked it!”

The red head blinked at him in confusion, clearly not understanding why Katsuki was suddenly so upset. “What about it?”

“You signed!”

“Yeah?” He held the ‘ea’ sound out as if the pause would help him figure out what had happened. Katsuki could feel his face heating up. “Dude, I’m so confused right now. What’s wrong?”

“You-! You fuckin’ signed to me!”

“Yeah, you covered that part. What about it?”

“When the fuck did you learn it?!”

Kirishima still looked at him baffled. “Dude, I’ve known for years. My mom is hard of hearing.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“Because I didn’t think I’d need to? I sign to you all the time, man!” Now it was Katsuki’s turn to look lost. He looked at the red head for a few minutes as if he’d just told him some world altering view, which he kinda did. “You good, bro?”

“No I’m not ‘good’! When the fuck have you ever signed to me?!” Though as the question left his lips, memories started replaying in his head. One’s of Kirishima casually signing ‘lunch?’ while verbally saying they should head to grab a bite to eat. Memories of Kirishima signing ‘that was awesome!’ after Katsuki did some impressive move in training. Of Kirishima’s fingers moving to ask him to pass his notes back over. Vision after vision of Kirishima slipping it into such casual setting from the first weeks he knew him and wow, okay that did something to his heart.

Why hadn’t he ever noticed it before? When the hell had Kirishima become such a casual part of his life that him speaking in a language hardly anyone knew became second nature? How had he learned so much about Katsuki without him ever knowing the red head was close enough to figure him out? Why did he decide to dedicate so much of his energy and time to be around him?!

“Dude?” He looked over at Kirishima who was now looking at him worried. “I was kinda kidding when I asked if you were good but now I’m actually worried. Are you alright? You look, like, sick."

Katsuki dropped to his knees in front of the red head who was looking even more concerned now. He opened his mouth, probably to once again ask if Katsuki was okay, when Katsuki put his hands on either side of his head and pulled him into a kiss. It wasn’t anything spectacular on the outside, just a chaste kiss, but it was an awakening for Katsuki who avoided feelings and distractions. Katsuki who had mentioned romance was the furthest thing on his mind when Ashido asked him back in first year if he was interested in anyone. So yeah, it wasn’t the most romantic of kisses as Katsuki hadn’t exactly kissed anyone aside from one or two people back in middle school and Kirishima hadn’t exactly moved or leaned into it let alone reacted.

Wait, shit. Kirishima hadn’t reacted.

That thought had him pulling back immediately, apology already forming but going unspoken as Kirishima mirrored the gesture of grabbing his face and pulling him into a kiss. Now it was Katsuki’s turn to be shocked but it faded in seconds, eyes closing on instinct as he moved to rest his hands on Kirishima’s hips. Kirishima in turn gently cupped the side of his face, guiding Katsuki’s head to tilt to the side slightly so he could deepen it. Alright, this one was much better than the pitiful one Katsuki had just done. Kirishima’s lips slid against his like they were meant to be connected and his hands lit Katsuki’s skin on fire. The feeling was like wearing his hearing aids for the first time. Like reawakening a sense that had been muted for years. He didn’t want it to end but after one last slow kiss, Kirishima pulled back, lips parted as he breathed.

Katsuki opened his eyes and blinked down at him, no doubt looking as kiss-drunk as the red head. Kirishima beamed back up at him, cheeks tinted red which Katsuki could feel his own face mimicking. He glanced away as if that would hide it, ignoring the way his heart rate picked up when Kirishima’s arms moved to wrap around his waist, head resting against his chest. He had about a billion things he wanted to say, knew Kirishima had about a billion he probably wanted to ask, but of course the red head knew him well enough to know he needed a minute before he spoke. Kirishima knew him so well. How did he not ever connect these dots and do this sooner?!

“So you like me.”

Alright, maybe not the elegant response he wanted but he earned a laugh from Kirishima. He shrugged and looked up at him so Katsuki could see his lips, smile still present. “What finally gave that away?”

Katsuki could feel his face flush anew. “’Finally’?”

“I haven’t exactly been trying to hide it from you.”

“You never fuckin’ said anything!”

“Again, never thought I’d need to.”

And alright, that was fair if he thought about it. He frowned but it was more at himself than at Kirishima and he ducked his head down to rest against the red head’s shoulder, the red head pulling him close. “You have awful taste.” He muttered to which Kirishima just hummed, lightly resting his head against the side of Katsuki’s.

They stayed like that for a while longer before Kirishima’s stomach made them remember what had started this whole ordeal in the first place. As they stood up and started to head out, Katsuki paused and turned grabbing his hearing aids and sliding them into place, ignoring the way Kirishima’s face lit up at the simple motion. He didn’t comment on it though, only taking Katsuki’s hand for a whole second before dropping it. Katsuki arched a brow, about to ask what was wrong.

‘I really, really like you, Katsuki.’

Katsuki was pretty sure his face was currently redder than the idiot in front of him’s hair and mumbled a quiet “Fuck you” as he lightly punched his shoulder. Kirishima laughed and caught Katsuki’s hand before it fell away. He went to lace their fingers together and tug him down the hall but Katsuki stayed rooted to the spot. Kirishima looked back at him, head tilting in the ‘whats-up’ way he did before Katsuki pulled his hand back.

‘You are an idiot, but I like you too.’

It shouldn’t be a surprise the way Kirishima’s eyes lit up. It shouldn’t be breath taking the blinding smile such a simple statement was met with. It shouldn’t make his heart skip when he was rewarded with another kiss. None of it should be but here Katsuki was, arms wrapped around this dumb, red headed ray of sunshine who managed to do the impossible.

#KiriBaku #Bakugou Katsuki #Kirishima Eijirou #BakuShima #Deaf Bakugou #Bakugou #Kirishima #BNHA #Boku no Hero Academia #My Hero Academia #MHA #klutzys writing

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silenthillmutual · 4 years

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[ID: Anonymous said: this isnt like, a demand or request, just an expression of interest - you mentioned in your daniil-is-autistic post that you also think artemy is neurodivergent, and i would really enjoy seeing a similar post on that topic. thank you, have a nice day.]

(anon is referring to this post!)

i do have some thoughts that i would like to share about that topic! however comma, it probably will not be as in-depth as my post about daniil, as i am myself autistic and have had a couple years since being diagnosed to ruminate on places where that has affected my life, and so it’s easier to write about coming from a place of personal experience. i can do the same with depression, for the same reason.

i have a couple of ideas about what artemy could have:

adhd

ptsd

ocd

i won’t really be going into ptsd or ocd on this post because i feel like it’s more difficult to point the ptsd out (artemy doesn’t talk much about or flashback at all to being on the front) and because i think ocd should have its own post. it is severely misunderstood, even by other neurodivergent people. plus i think all four of the healers have it (or aspects of it), and this post is about artemy.

i feel like… something about the dsmv diagnostic criteria for adhd feels condescending to me, like it feels the way it’s worded places a lot of the blame on the person who has it? and some of the criteria like “fails to follow through on instructions”, “does not seem to listen when spoken to directly”, “has trouble holding attention on tasks” can depend greatly on the player. not as much of that is baked into artemy’s character and dialogue in the same way that social ineptitude, which is a core feature of autism, is baked into daniil’s character and dialogue.

with that being said: while i will include a few things from the diagnostic dsmv diagnositic criteria as listed on the cdc website, i am going to primarily be thinking about accounts from people with adhd. i have several friends with adhd (and i suspect that i may have it, though i’ve only come to suspect this recently and have had less time to think on it) whose experiences i will be taking into account.

other links to sources i am referring to: [adhd/autism venn diagram by tfw-adhd] [what those symptoms look like in adults, by chadd] [ptsd criteria on brainline] [ocd criteria on beyondocd]

vague spoilers for pathologic classic & pathologic 2

very briefly & quickly: ptsd & ocd

the problem with going into it is this game is already a very difficult and anxiety-inducing world because of the plague and i’d argue that any of the healers could have one or both of these either before the outbreak or after it, so here are some things that stick out to me for

ptsd - overly negative thoughts or assumptions about oneself or the world (can overlap with adhd; artemy has the option to repeatedly blame himself for his father’s death), negative affect, feeling isolated, irritability or aggression, risky or destructive behavior, hypervigilance (any game that dabbles in horror aspects will expect this from you), difficulty sleeping (overlaps with adhd), depersonalization (this is a core aspect of the theatre theme of the game)

ocd - without going through the entire ybocs, i’ll just say that i think all three healers struggle with hoarding (understandably and by necessity) and hypermorality (all three protagonists believe they are the one and only person who is right, rubin is awfully judgmental of people who don’t abide by his personal standards). compulsions would be easier to point out in the game than the obsessions they are linked to, as we’re not exactly privvy to intrusive thoughts outside of the dreams. you could, however, say that artemy struggles with intrusive thoughts of causing harm even inadvertantly and argue that he takes measures to ensure that he doesn’t, won’t, and hasn’t. in classic, this is highly dependent on playstyle.

[this is my standard disclaimer that i have an official diagnosis of ptsd so i’m not just pulling this out of nowhere and am about 98% sure i have obsessive-compulsive disorder, and have researched it thoroughly.]

what’s built into the game: making careless mistakes, poor planning skills, time blindness / anxiety, executive dysfunction

pathologic is a game that sometimes feels like you’re being set up for failure. something that i missed talking about in my previous post is that it often feels like an autism/adhd simulator because it is, in classic, so very easy to screw yourself over and get locked out of an objective by picking the wrong dialogue option. while some of the correct dialogue options are obvious, others feel like a guessing game and you have to just hope you’re picking the right thing and have made a save file at the right place to go back and pick different options in the case that you’ve bungled something. hence, “making careless mistakes”. it’s a little bit easier in 2, as dialogue options that end a conversation are indicated with a diamond (thank you to whomever decided on that!), but it makes up for this by being unforgiving in other aspects. i believe the difficulty settings for imago state that the game is intended to be “almost unbearable” - and lots of people have difficulty completing it on the intended difficulty without cheats. (do not discourse about this on my post.) the game invites you to make careless mistakes and either live with or learn from them.

keeping this in mind, you’re kind of expected to have “poor planning skills” on at least your first time playing it. part of the game’s point is that you can’t do everything, and you can’t save everyone. not paying close enough attention or interpreting the instructions of the game just right in classic can cost you the lives of several of your bound.

that also feeds into time blindness & time anxiety. classic & 2 do these in different ways. in classic, you can’t run, so you have to hope you’re not busy doing something else or else hope that all of your letters come in at a time where you can hit up all the places you need to go, or you’re going to be cutting it short on time for the day. in 2, you can run, but there are far more sidequests to be completed than in classic.

i’d also argue that executive dysfunction is a core aspect of the game. you are very busy and very poor and items are very expensive, meaning that unless you know what you’re in for, either you or the town is low on resources or funds or time to do things like eat, sleep, and take care of your aches, immunity, and infection. all of which can be avoided if you don’t make careless mistakes, have good planning skills, and can manage your time wisely.

“interrupts or intrudes on others”

i don’t appear to have a screenshot of him doing this in 2, but he and daniil do have at least one conversation in which they keep interrupting each other. peak autism/adhd solidarity.

i do, however, have a screenshot example of him doing this to clara in pathologic classic

Haruspex: …Wait a second. If there was nothing but the great Bull, where did the stars and light come from? Changeling: Oh, don’t interrupt!

and as for intruding - khan feels that he does this frequently: intruding on him and capella at the station, intruding on him and notkin at the broken heart, and here he is intruding on kids at the nutshell:

We have so few places of our own - only a couple. And yet you feel the urge to impose yourself even here. Do you know what childhood is? It’s slavery. Herders treat their cattle better than parents treat their children. They lock us up like objects, mold us like statues, and still never take us remotely seriously.

he also intrudes on clara talking with block on day 11, either completely oblivious to the fact that he’s doing it or outright ignoring that he is.

“is often ‘on the go’“

i could say that this is one that is built into the way the game is organized, and it’s true! but his time spent with lara comes to mind. she’s not the only one to mention his restlessness, but i don’t keep screenshots of big vlad on hand so their day 1 dialogue is lost to the wind.

Aren’t you supposed to be terribly busy? I don’t understand why you keep coming. Or do you need my help again? I’ll wash your clothes. You’re filthy, like a chimney sweep. Revolting. While they dry, have some sleep.

“often fidgets […] or squirms in seat”

like with daniil’s body language, i don’t have any gifs to show to prove this. i’m really looking forward to seeing what idle animations he gets in the other two routes. for now i know that in the lucid dream, if you use flycam you can see him idling by swaying and rubbing his chin & that in other pantomimes he can be found constantly turning his head and looking around.

sleep problems

i don’t have the screen shot so just pretend that i do - he mentions this to the fellow traveler on, i think, day one when you go to the dead item shop. in either game, you can also only sleep for a maximum of six hours at a time, which is like..two hours less than the recommended amount, unless that’s changed.

little sense of danger & impulsivity

As usual, I act first and think later. I’ve made a panacea. But from what? What blood was that? Whose blood was that? To cure the Town, I’ll need to figure that out.

there’s actually no dialogue i can think of that addresses the danger of the situation he’s in - which is sort of the reason why i included it! though i am absolutely obsessed with classic artemy threatening grief, kingpin of the villains in town:

Bad Grief: That ain’t good! Got too soft a heart or something? Soft, eh… Well, can’t blame you. Haruspex: Got too hard of a bone structure? You watch it. I’ll break them in no time.

artemy has little to no problem offering to help daniil get ahold of organs and blood:

Bachelor: Exactly. I need tissues of a person who died of the Sand Plague. I need them today, right now! I’ve tried to get them at the cemetary, but failed miserably. The patrolmen are vigilantly watching over the dead. Haruspex: Would you like me to get you some? Bachelor: I’d reward you generously for that. Haruspex: Deal. I’ll do what I can, even though I still don’t have the right to.

‘even though i still don’t have the right to’ - he knows it’s illegal and could easily lose him reputation, but he jumps at the chance to do so. part of his route requires you being in constant danger, but later on there are options to tell daniil you won’t help him. this isn’t one of them.

in pathologic 2, you can also instigate fights with people by, to name a few: refusing to leave the house in the atrium where they have a person bound and gagged upstairs, not leaving barley the barber in grief’s lair, and picking the wrong dialogue option with the guys in the broken heart on day 11.

as referenced above, his impulsivity sometimes shows in the dialogue options you can choose. you can say things that clearly haven’t been thought through all the way. for example, this is what he says to clara bout her parents:

I wonder what you did to your old ones. There was someone gullible enough to adopt you?

and this is how she replies:

Clara: What? Why would you say that? I never even knew them. I’ve been an orphan for as long as I can remember. Artemy: I didn’t know. Right, that’s what I figured.

it’s not all that different from the sort of tactless comment a person with autism might make.

no motivation for tasks you are not interested in & hyperfixations

in pathologic 2, on day 3, daniil asks artemy to be his aide in developing a vaccine. artemy’s responses are all something dismissive and frequently quite rude. here’s the end of that conversation:

Bachelor: I will make the vaccine, but I can’t do it without you. All you need to do is be at hand and do as I say. I will take full responsibility for the situation. Haruspex: Perhaps I’ll drop by… if I have the time.

guess what never happens?

it’s understandable that the panacea is artemy’s main goal. what makes it stick out to me as a hyperfixation specifically is that, while a vaccine is daniil’s main goal, daniil manages to ask artemy about his progress with the panacea.

Bachelor: Anyway, how’s it going? Any progress?

the interest is never reciprocated.

emotional dysregulation & rejection sensitivity dysphoria

i personally think this is the most striking piece of evidence. every single perceived sleight can invoke a drastic reaction in artemy. just take day 3 for example - the perceived sleight here is the belief (based on no evidence) that daniil was snubbing him or trying to exclude him from the meeting:

Bachelor: Burakh. The situation is regretful. I just didn’t have time to warn you. Haruspex: This was ugly of you.

and then he proceeds to get into an argument with him. he can, in fact, get into snits with not just daniil, but with rubin and lara as well. i will not be taking sides in this, because who is right / who is wrong is not really the point, the point is how artemy responds to perceived sleights with increased emotional agitation.

when capella upsets him by telling him she’s taking the kids from under his care for their own protection, he can respond by comparing her to her horrible capitalist pig of a father:

You truly are your father’s daughter. Children always succeed their parents…

i can’t even remember what was said to him to get him to reply this, only that it was said to him by a teenager:

I’m a surgeon. Ever considered having your tongue removed?

he also holds onto murky’s repetitious “what is there about you to love? nothing. so i don’t.” and brings it up to her when she is infected with the sand plague on day 10. though it does bring the rather heartwarming line about murky having loved him from the start, my point remains that he has not been able to stop thinking about something murky has said that she has obviously already changed her mind about by this point in time in the game.

difficulties making & keeping friends

remember what i said about the interest in daniil’s vaccine not being reciprocated? yeah. friends, acquaintances, colleagues - they all kind of expect you to take an interest in their lives. this is where autism & adhd overlap, from my understanding - both can come with an inability to recognize social cues. in fact, i’m going to use the same example now that i used in my post about daniil (it is, after all, what inspired this ask):

Bachelor: From you? Oh, nothing. I was just sharing.

daniil thinks they’ve been having a normal conversation, but artemy hasn’t picked up on whatever social cues he’s been using. this could easily be on either one of them. though i will say, some of my easiest friendships as a person with autism have been with people who have adhd. which is why i’d suggest that daniil saying he’ll tell artemy about thanatica “the way i’d tell a close, intimate friend” is autism/adhd solidarity. despite initially not getting along, they are clearly able to communicate with each other.

i think the rest of this is really self-explanatory. despite being from the town in classic, artemy doesn’t actually appear to have any friends in it. could be a symptom of him having left much ealier (ten years ago as opposed to the five in pathologic 2), but in pathologic 2 his friendships are constantly under threat of spontaneous combustion. this day three conversation with lara sums it up nicely:

Lara: Ugh, whatever. Like it’s any of my business… Do whatever you want. Did you make peace with stakh? Artemy: Doesn’t look like it… Forget Stakh. I see now that I’m one step away from falling out with you. Why?

there’s a variety of reasons why his friendships are falling apart. but it occurs to me that there’s no mention of artemy communicating with his friends at all while he was gone, and maybe that’s contributing to it. this is not an attempt to pick sides (i think everybody’s wrong), i am just pointing this out.

adhd in adults: history of academic or career underachievement, relationship problems due to not completing tasks, chronic stress and worry over failure to accomplish goals, chronic and intense feelings of frustration / guilt / blame

artemy did not finish med school. classic has him described as a “vagrant scholar” traveling from town to town to learn instead of staying in the capital where he was sent (”always ‘on the go’” indeed). in pathologic 2 he simply states that he doesn’t have a degree and that he sucked at latin.

relationship problems mentioned under “making and keeping friendships”, but it should be noted that you can repair your friendships by completing a sidequest on day 3 to gather everyone together.

“chronic stress and worry over failure to accomplish goals” is sort of the entirety of pathologic 2. you could say it’s built into the game, but artemy does express a lot of stress over not knowing where to turn for answers, has bizarre prophetic dreams, and is plagued by… well, the plague taunting him for not being to save his bound. both when notkin gets sick on day 4 and when all of the children get sick on day 10, he can express an extreme amount of guilt for not having the ability to cure them.

i mentioned under ptsd that artemy has a tendency to be able to blame himself for his father’s death, and i think that fits under here as well. there’s also this:

I get anxious thinking about my kids… Are they faring all right in the Lair without me?

conclusion

i do not know if i have adhd myself and i am sure there are things i am missing, especially as i have not completed artemy’s route in classic yet or started clara’s. feel free to contribute to this, i would love to see others’ input!

#icarus.txt #icarus answers #artemy burakh #pathologic meta

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fanfictiondreamscape · 4 years

Text

First Kisses (Haikyuu - pt. 5)

Title: First Kisses (Haikyuu - pt. 5)

Genre: *deep inhale* FLUFF.

Pairing: Oikawa/Iwaizumi/Bokuto x Reader (separate)

Notes: Okay, fair warning. I’m not too proud of this one, but I knew that an issue would come up the second I decided to include Oikawa in this. (I am seriously trying to write him, but he is surprisingly hard to write for how accidentally transparent his character is.)

Otherwise, I think that this is a pretty decent contribution to the series. I hope you enjoy reading it!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6 Masterlist

Oikawa Tooru

trash can needs someone stern

keep him and his somewhat sleazy habit of flirting under control

his s/o was most likely friends with him as well.

they’re also pretty similar to hajime, though they are nowhere near as violent and brash with him as hajime is

that doesn’t mean that they aren’t assertive, though.

they’d be strong and smart, and they’d know the self-worth of themself and him

otherwise, this boy would want to make a huge show out of the kiss.

like seriously.

this man has it planned.

super elaborate, super extravagant, and super sweet. that was the general aim for it.

what exactly was to happen? well...not what did.

it was valentine’s day.

a day meant for romance

and, of course, oikawa was gushing about you to anybody that would give him the time of day.

you had tried to stay as close to him as possible, but his delusional fangirls were constantly getting between you two

(you could have sworn that a few of them had been stealing some roses from the nearby park garden to give to him, and that one of them had stabbed you with the stem of one.)

(they’re vicious, you’re getting pissed.)

you have to realize that there will be a dance hosted that night for the event, and that you and oikawa have tickets to it

so you can rest a little easier for the day knowing that you will be able to thoroughly celebrate the day with him once school’s out for the day.

with the thought lingering, you went about your day and would stay by oikawa as he got pulled between classes by some of his fans

you could always appreciate how he would find a way to get beside you

it was endearing seeing him pout and apologize cutely.

(you wouldn’t ever say it out loud, but your face said all that he needed to know)

anyways, the day goes by, and eventually lunch hits you two in the gut

hajime had decided to lay back a little as you two went on your way.

you witness a few love confessions in the hallways on the way there, and while you watch the underclassmen blush and stutter, you snicker to yourself

it reminded you of oikawa’s confession to you, and you found it endearing.

(for context, he had asked without stuttering, and when he had gotten giddy and ready to leave, the typically-graceful oikawa tooru had continually tripped and fallen on his face. he sent an unaware smile in your direction every time as you laughed at his overly apparent misfortune.)

he watched as you smirked.

he found it amazingly devious, yet oh-so attractive.

it only added to the fact that you were the perfect foil to the setter.

the rest of the walk to the cafeteria was spent in comfortable silence as you two listened to the chattering and the swishing of the wind outside.

it wasn’t until you reached the aforementioned part of the school that your growing bundle of annoyance had reared it ugly head and disrupted the sweet mood.

you deadpanned as you watched oikawa’s fangirls drop in all at once and practically throw you off and throw their valentine’s gifts in his face.

you hit the floor with a thud, and when you went to get up, you saw hajime holding his hand for you to grab.

he had the same expression on his face, and while you already planned to grab his helping hand, it made the scene a little more manageable

someone didn’t look away from this crap.

oikawa had noticed how the girls had become rougher than usual today

and he had been getting as annoyed as you had by them

and he had enough when he saw them make you a physical ragdoll.

he tried to compose himself well enough to say something in a mature manner (or, as mature as he could get, at least)

he had an image as a role model to some people, and he didn’t want to reflect a bad persona for them

nor did he want to show you his truthful angry side again

(you had seen it once, it freaked you out. it took a couple minutes to get you back to your senses.)

so he had made a final decision.

as hajime pulled you up and you brushed off your uniform, oikawa had gently nudged the females away and walked up to you.

with a smile on his face, a genuine one, he cupped your face in his hands, closed his eyes

and kissed you in front of the whole student body.

it was deep, very passionate, and threw you for a loop.

it took you a moment to melt into the experience and, when you did, it got 10x more passionate.

as well as a little messy.

hell, the two of you got so into it that tongue got involved.

it took hajime tearing you two apart to make the time continue and the room stop spinning.

(seriously, any longer and you two would have been full on making out in front of every student. can’t have that, can we?)

safe to say, that whole romantic gesture screwed over his plan to do something even bigger at the school dance.

otherwise, the whole school now knew that you two were an item, and that oikawa was off-limits.

(and that if they were to lay another finger on you, they’d have an angry hajime and oikawa after them)

(the two of you got relentlessly teased by the other volleyball third years afterwards, though)

in conclusion:

fangirls will be annoying, kisses will be magical.

seriously.

it was surprisingly rough and somewhat harsh

you could still feel the drive to not only protect you, but also pour his heart out to you.

you did the same, of course.

and if it weren’t for the unorthodox timing, the kiss would have probably been more mechanical.

(the whole topic was something that oikawa had to come to terms with when he had spilled his initial plan to him. he still hates to hear that talk.)

final words? impulsive, passionate, loving, and messy .

for the whole of the scenario.

Hajime Iwaizumi

hajime here?

he’d like someone responsible.

right off the bat.

he and his s/o would be able to tackle anything together with their work ethic, and that is something that he’d admire

otherwise, they’d have a similar sense of humor to him and be intelligent (same class, possibly?)

would also be somewhat into athletics.

imagine like, a past athlete or someone that enjoys working out but doesn’t do it often

(gym buddies? he’d love that)

and the kiss, i imagine, would happen when oikawa and iwaizumi are leaving the game between Karasuno and Shiratorizawa.

the two of them are both a little peeved, which is understandable

but you were there to cheer them up just the slightest

(and help hajime knock some sense into the walking, six-foot-something trash can)

it was following the match that the day just...

went.

it was a little dull (just like my writing as of late, holy-)

but you were persistent on lightening up the mood.

you tried to engage oikawa with talk of space and aliens

(“how about mars? do you think that aliens exist there? if so, would their body directly counteract the heat of the planet?”)

(“how about venus, then? i know that there are different standards of beauty everywhere, but what do you think they’d be like? like, your definition of ‘beautiful’?”)

he was so angry and distraught that he just walked off.

considering you had been friends with the trash bin as long as hajime, you knew to let him be.

you admittedly felt a little dejected, but you knew that things would work out eventually.

hajime had tried to do the same before you had joined them, but the same thing had happened to him in the long run.

with a sigh, you suggested getting some take out and watching a movie at one of your homes.

though slightly reluctant, he agrees.

you shrunk a little further in at his reaction, but you knew that the reaction was just a response to the horrible atmosphere

he, truthfully, was just a little nervous to be alone with you.

he had been having the urge to kiss you as of late, and he didn’t want to make anything awkward between you two

you had been thinking the same thing, but, hey-

you were trying to focus on the thought of a movie, food, and cuddling with him

so far, it was keeping you from falling completely into a hollow being for the next few hours.

the walk to the nearest house (yours) was about ten minutes from the intersection that you two left oikawa at

your parents were on a business trip and they trusted you, so things worked out.

when you and hajime were inside the home, you had taken to picking a movie and he had taken to looking at menus that had been stashed in your kitchen

you had settled on a dark comedy while he had reached for a pizza place menu.

everything had slowly but surely begun to settle into numbness (in comparison to the depression of earlier)

it wasn’t until the pizza came that things took a turn.

you had grabbed the pizza and paid for it with some money that had been left for you.

you took it into the living room, propped the box up and everything.

all ready to devour, your mind went straight to the food.

you took two pieces and ate the both of them before reaching for another piece.

(hajime found the sight of your with your cheeks puffed out from the food the cutest thing he had seen.)

(he also started blushing and tried to hide his face behind a napkin but failed miserably.)

(you noticed.)

anyway, the pizza was slowly being eaten.

you had been fairly clean when eating, and with the movie contributing to an even higher rise in the mood, you had gotten just the slightest bit messier.

a small spot of tomato sauce was right on the corner of your lips.

haijime noticed this immediately and just knew he had to kiss you now.

his cheeks flared up again, and he grunted.

“you’ve got some sauce on your cheek”

you turned to face him, and with the way things were looking at the moment, you thought that this would lead to something like a kiss on the cheek to remove it.

oh boy, how wrong were you.

he raised his hand and slowly wiped the small bit off your lip.

his hand never left when he got it off, though.

the two of you were just staring into each other’s eyes, both turning as red as the sauce that you had just eaten.

he gulped before he asked you the question.

“can i kiss you?”

it was quiet, it was serene, and the tv in the background was completely forgotten when you responded with a ‘yes’.

he leaned in and met your lips with his, and hoLY-

time really flat out stopped.

he was a little rough, but he was pouring every ounce of love he had for you into that smooch

his passion shone through and jesus, you couldn’t help but do the same.

you wrapped your arms around his neck as he raised his other hand to cup your face completely

his rough hands were so gentle, and so was the kiss as the two of you broke away from the other for air.

both slightly breathless and panting, a smile sealed the upgraded atmosphere very well.

the two of you then proceeded to cuddle for the rest of the movie.

in summary?

hajime is a person of passion and care, and that can be seen in his kiss

it was just so-

gAH so SwEEt.

easily perfect for the both of you, as cliche as it sounds

(also, the way that the night ended perfected everything - you had fallen asleep on his shoulder about 4/5 through the movie and he refused to move from his position even when the movie ended. he just turned the tv off and cuddled up next to you and feel asleep as well.)

10 out of 10, i would most definitely love for something like this to happen to me, as cliche as it is.

crap, i’m starting to realize that i am a hopeless romantic in denial, help-

Bokuto Kotarou

buff boi here needs someone like akaashi

straight outta the gate, he needs someone that can handle his moodiness

someone that can handle his hyperness

someone that can keep him in control whenever he begins to lose it.

(what little impulse control he has left, at least-)

anyway, yeah, you get it.

i would imagine that they would be (possibly) a little more talkative, but generally similar to akaashi

the kiss, though...

let’s be honest, that’s how he would respond to you

so, to sum that vague statement up:

he’d kiss you as a confession.

that’s all there is to it.

how the confession itself would go?

well...

he was nervous.

akaashi and bokuto were walking and the owlish ace was ranting

“i want to tell her, but she won’t like me.”

akaashi was almost completely fed up with his whining.

keyword: almost.

what bokuto failed to notice was that you and akaashi are friends and classmates, as well as colleagues on the volleyball team.

you were a manager, and had been a huge help to the team when akaashi wasn’t there (for whatever reason).

so, with that knowledge, akaashi knew.

you had told him what you felt in regards to bokuto, and he listened.

the catch was that you didn’t want him to tell bokuto or anyone else.

he wanted to end this whole back and forth on both of your parts,

(”i like them, but they don’t like me. and even if they did, they could find someone that’d be more fitting for them.”)

BUT, he is a good friend, and good friends keep promises and requested secrets.

he was dying to just cut the crap and get you two together.

quite frankly, he was ready to. he just had to do it incognito

(read: hope to god you don’t tear him a new one if you find out that he was willing to play matchmaker from behind the scenes.)

anyway, as he listened to bokuto rant and whine and drone about you, the idea hit him.

he’d need the help of another manager, though.

eventually, the day had come to end (with both you and horned-owl man being oblivious), and practice had begun.

bokuto was screwing up more than usual.

he still had his good moments, but anyone could tell that he was bothered by something.

it got so bad that akaashi had to call break.

he had asked to speak to the other managers, kaori and yukie, when he had called it.

you were curious, but you didn’t want to pry.

you had taken to making sure that the team could help bokuto get back on it.

akaashi had planned something, though, and he was sure that this would work.

once the break was up, bokuto went back to practice.

you found it odd when you noticed that he was starting to mess up again.

this time, it got so much worse - akaashi forced bokuto outside to take a good, long breather.

kaori had asked you to check up on him after a few minutes.

being her kouhai, you went along with it and left the duties to yukie.

when you went outside, you noticed the two-toned hair sitting on the steps to the gym angrily pouting.

you wanted to calm him down and get his focus back on the game, but something was becoming a problem.

things between you two had grown more awkward than usual, and you didn’t like it.

especially now, seeing as it was only you two in the chilly autumn wind.

that being said, you decided to sit next to him on the steps.

when he heard your footsteps, he quickly peeked up, blushed at you, and looked back down with a less hostile pout.

you found the sight adorable, but you had to push that away right now.

the Fukurodani ace wasn’t at his best - that needed to be fixed first.

“what’s going on bokuto?”

he, if possible, got even quieter.

now, not many things scare you, but that?

a silent bokuto?

get your apocalypse materials together, shit’s about to hit the fan - chances are the world’s gonna end in T-minus ten seconds.

you nudged his shoulder and persisted.

“c’mon, the team needs their ace to be at their best, and they can’t if he can’t tell me what’s bothering him.”

some more silence lingered before he spoke.

“there’s this person. they’re really pretty, and really sweet, and really smart.”

your mood dropped, but you tried to keep it up for his sake.

“they’re also really good at comforting people, and they have patience with me.”

your mood really didn’t wanna work with you, did it?

“and i wanna ask them out, but i don’t think they like me.”

that was when you took your chance.

yeah, if it wasn’t you, you could at least give him the confidence to ask out whoever the mystery person was.

“then ask them out, bokuto. people admire you, you know? how could they say no to the great bokuto kotarou?”

that seemed to give him a boost, and with quick succession, he had jumped up and stood proud.

“you’re right, y/n! so, do you wannt go out with me?”

y/n.exe has stopped working.

your jaw dropped to the floor, your eyes went wide, and your heart and mind started racing.

‘holy- he likes me? he likes me? he really likes me?’

bokuto noticed your silence, and he took it as a rejection.

he slumped off and fell to the steps again.

“if you don’t feel the same, that’s oka-”

“wait, no! i didn’t say that!”

your outburst was admittedly uncharacteristic, but for the moment, that was all that was needed.

his golden eyes lit up, and you blushed bright red.

“really? you really like me too?”

you nodded shyly.

in a fit of happiness, he lifted you up and swung you around.

the action shocked you, but you were giggling by the end of it.

despite his excitement, he still had some decency in the moment.

“can i kiss you?”

a smile fell onto your face and you uttered a small yes.

he kissed you immediately after.

the entrance was extremely rough, so much so that you nearly fell backwards had it not been for bokuto’s strong arms holding you in place.

otherwise, there was teeth (by accident, of course), and it was very messy and a little slobbery

(forlackofabetterword,iswear-)

it lasted for a decent amount of time.

in fact, it took so long that akaashi got a little worried that you and bokuto had run off (or something like that)

kaori had decided to check on you two, and you two were found sucking face.

yeah, that’s right.

the kiss was romantic, but it was bordering on a makeout. (never reached that point, but most definitely seemed like it)

she decided to leave you two alone.

when you pulled away, the both of you had a slight flush to your faces

neither of you would have changed the moment, though. no way in hell would that happen.

and, in a twist of events, bokuto was the one dragging you back to the gymasium with a new burst of energy and confidence.

the rest of the night flowed fairly smooth, and bokuto dealt with his fair share of teasing from his teammates after kaori had let the team know what had gone on.

so, in conclusion:

very, VERY, V E R Y messy.

it was an impatient kiss, an immature kiss, an overall inexperienced kiss.

though, you could only imagine, that the moment was everything you could have asked for and more.

also, the setting was perfect for the two of you.

a new s/o, the first kiss, and the slight chill of the wind combined with the gleaming moon and stars?

beautiful, perfect, gorgeous, you name it.

just-

buff owl boy needs love, you give him that and more.

he does the same with you.

(please cherish him, you’re the only person that can calm him down quickly aside from akaashi)

#oikawatooru #oikawa #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #hajimeiwaizumi #hajime iwaizumi #iwaizumi x reader #hajime iwaizumi x reader #bokutokotarou #bokuto #bokuto kotarou #bokuto x reader #bokuto kotarou x reader #iwaizumi #oikawa tooru #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons

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pauldron-pieces · 3 years

Text

Rumon 'Crushjaw' Thaerskaine's Backstory: Rearmed

Fandom: Dungeons And Dragons (5E)

Pairing: N/A, Crushjaw-centric

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: This is a hypothetical scenario featuring original characters in a world created by my Dungeon Master. As usual, this is non-canon and I own nothing aside from intellectual properties specifically attached to Crushjaw. This installment is mechanically unsound in a multitude of ways and ignores certain important lore facets. Trigger warnings are listed inside. Enjoy!

Taglist: @sporadic-fics and @cookiethewriter!

Inspired By: Black Hill: Low Force

[Crushjaw is a level zero barbarian, and his appearance can be found here.]

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains multiple triggering scenes including semi-graphic depictions of gore and mentions of bile/vomit. Reader discretion is advised. Stay safe!]

He would have loved to claim he had been goaded into it. Would have loved to say that it wasn't his fault or explain that it hadn't happened like he remembered. Except Rumon knew all too well that responsibility didn't work like that. His memory may be faulty, but the proof was in Krae's testimony.

Himself and his childhood friend Krae had both been interested in the same individual from a neighboring clan, the two of them butting heads over the object of their affections more than once. So of course when Krae came to him with news of an enormous ogre that had set up its stomping grounds near one of their trade routes, Rumon fairly leaped at the opportunity to fight the beast and claim victory over it. After all, what better way to prove his worth and earn a name from the clan leader than with an act of heroism?

Krae naturally came along, saying that he feared the ogre may be too tall an order for even Rumon to handle. This just made Rumon all the more determined to manage the creature single handedly.

They set up camp near where Krae claimed to have spotted the beast, the two goliaths joking and swapping drinks from a canteen of strong spirits. Truly, until both of them had set their sights on the same person, they had been brothers in all but blood. Rumon still regarded Krae as such, trusting to a fault, and thusly he missed the shifty glances the older goliath kept aiming at the treeline while the sun set.

"Come, Rumon! The moon is high. With its light, surely we shall find the ogre." Krae had cajoled after Rumon was fairly drunk, "unless, of course, you are afraid of a night hunt?"

"I fear nothing!" Rumon had boasted, "the gods are with me this night. You shall witness my triumph, Krae!"

Bold words. His grandmatron had always said that pride went before a fall.

Rumon recalled very little of the hunt after that, his memory muddied with drink. Despite Krae's insistence that the moonlight was sufficient, Rumon's recollections were oddly dim. He vaguely remembered stumbling around beneath the thick spruce canopy, his warhammer clumsy in his hands.

He remembered swinging with all his might and striking something that gave under the assault, the liquor Krae had plied him with steeling his ringing blows to something that rivaled even Varandur's mountain shapers.

He remembered when the weight of his weapon suddenly vanished, and there was a rancid gust of seethingly-hot air that blew his hair to the side. The roar was strange to his ear, far-off and faded. Emptiness rang too loud for him to hear as he wondered where his weapon had gone.

Rumon remembered realizing that he was flat on his stomach on the ground.

Where the memory became razor-sharp once more was when he tried to push himself up onto his elbows, and found his body woefully unbalanced. The goliath searched for the source of the problem and quickly located it, the sight of what was left of his mangled right arm more than enough to jerk him back to stark sobriety.

It had been severed at the elbow, though the term was a bit too kind for the injury. The appendage looked more as though it had been crushed with something that might have had an edge at one point.

Rumon had raised his eyes, mind grinding to a halt when he spotted his warhammer several yards away with his right hand still gripping the haft. Past that, along a trail marked by shattered tree trunks, slumped an enormous ogre clutching a slab of a sword. It seemed closer to a chunk of masonry than a true weapon, and Rumon's stomach had churned as he realized what had happened.

Mercifully, the agony had struck him and he promptly vomited before losing consciousness.

×+×

Gods only knew how long he had slept after that. It was a miracle he had even made it back to their healer; apparently Krae had all but carried him home. The embarrassment from that instance alone would have been enough to kill Rumon, never mind the fact that his dominant arm was now nothing but a bandaged stump.

The grandmatron would have none of it though, her craggy face somehow even more stern when Rumon managed to finally rouse himself.

"You have been named Crushjaw, little pebble. A worthy title." Her tone was icy. "I have gone through much trouble to save you. I am indebted to our chieftain."

Crushjaw. Rumon's face fairly burned with shame. "The ogre-?"

"Krae slew the beast. He brought one of its tusks back as proof. The chieftain was quite flattered by his offering, praising Krae for his accomplishment and naming him Tuskclaimer. As for his name for you..." The matron bowed her head, her expression one of grief.

"Grandma…"

"Don't you grandma me, little pebble!" The elderly goliath erupted, glaring fiercely at Rumon. Her eyes filled with tears as she went on, "you are anathema now, dear Rumon. Once you are able to walk, the clan leader has declared that you are to leave. I am no longer your grandmother. This place is no longer your home."

"'Leave'?" Rumon repeated stupidly. It felt as though everything was crashing down around him, his mind racing to comprehend. Their clan hadn't had an expulsion in his entire lifetime, wariness and confidence found too equally amongst their ranks. Compounding his confusion was the claim that Krae had killed the ogre. Rumon had been certain... "I understand." He said finally. "I am unworthy of your kindness. Thank you."

He couldn't comprehend why his grandmother wept harder at his acceptance. This was the way it had always been.

×+×

Crushjaw.

It certainly felt as though he was being crushed to death. Loneliness was a miserable traveling companion.

Rumon, very nearly unable to fend for himself, resorted to setting small game snares in the uncharted wilds. It was a child's way of hunting, but he was too hungry to be bothered by the prick to his already-bruised pride.

The few people he did encounter seemed overly wary of him. After all, a one-armed, exiled goliath would be the type to resort to petty theft.

But he wasn't a threat. He had never been a threat before, aside from just being large. Rumon couldn't understand the sudden shift in demeanor; he couldn't possibly fathom the air of desperation that his injury gave off.

It began to get easier when the weather cooled, the bulk of the thick cloak from his grandmother concealing his missing arm. The wound had not healed prettily, but Rumon knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. He hadn't died. That was all he could hope for.

He wandered alone for most of the cold times, his only companions the booming pines that fractured from the weight of the ice and snow. His thoughts had a habit of straying to Krae, and he wondered what had truly transpired that evening more than he would care to admit. Had he imagined killing the ogre? Was his mind that addled by the strength of the drink they had shared?

Surely Krae wouldn't have lied. Nothing good ever came of lying or taking the credit for someone else's accomplishments. Rumon eventually settled on the assumption that his memory must have been faulty.

After that, the whole world seemed a gray and unforgiving place, and the goliath could feel himself fading into something of the same type. Something ragged and harsh, no longer a proud warrior but a lamed animal with a crushed jaw.

That is, until the day he encountered an old elf hanging by the leg from his horse's saddle.

"You there!" The elven man shouted once he seemed to notice the large individual sauntering up through the trunks of barren maples. "Don't suppose you'd be able to lend me a hand?"

Rumon, for whatever reason, found himself throwing his mantle back over his shoulder to reveal the stump of his arm. "Good thing you only need one hand, sirrah. It's all I have to offer." He remarked.

The elf nearly died of laughter, already beet-red in the face from being stuck hanging upside down for so long. To Rumon's shock however, when he circled around the horse to help the elf dislodge himself, he realized that the leg that wasn't caught in the stirrups was severed at the knee. The fellow's pant leg was neatly pinned at the joint, padding sewn into the area as if to mimic a kneecap.

Before Rumon could say anything though, the wiry elf explained, "I lost my leg a few miles back, and this damned animal dragged me along until she got bored. Don't suppose you can accompany me a little ways until I relocate it? Thing is worth its weight in gold."

The goliath easily hefted the older fellow into the saddle before his words caught up with him. "You...lost your leg?" Rumon blinked, his brow furrowed in confusion. "I was unaware that elves could regrow limbs."

The elf looked at him a little sideways, muttering something about still waters running deep before he just shook his head and laughed, "no son, it's a genuine Chuck original. A fake leg."

A fake leg. Rumon seized the horse's bridle, desperation giving his voice a new level of gravel as he begged for more information. The elf shrewdly bargained with him: in exchange for help in reclaiming his prosthetic, he would gladly share what information he had.

"My name is Shawell." The elf introduced himself. "And you are…?"

Rumon hesitated for a moment. "Crushjaw." If people were to know his name, they would serve as a reminder of his foolhardy pride. A constant warning to heed in the future.

"Pleasure to meet you, Crush." Shawell tugged on the reins, turning his mare back in the direction he had come from. "We'd better hurry. We'll lose the daylight."

Crush. Rumon cracked his first smile in months, positioning himself on the elf's left side to steady him in the saddle.

#rumon 'crushjaw' thaerskaine #crushjaw #dungeons and dragons #dnd 5e #I play one type of character #the friend who can help #goliath character #dnd goliath #dnd character #he's going to love his friends A Lot #canon-typical violence #I can't wait for this #dnd barbarian #barbarian backstory

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blue-honeycomb · 4 years

Text

Quiet Devotion 4 [Hawks x Reader]

I'll edit this at a later date...

Summary: Part 4 of the 'Quiet Devotion' series… Somehow this story's managed to wring yet another part out of me. What am I doing with my life?

Reader Details: Emotional, humble, loyal, introspective, independent.

Quirk: Life Fiber (A.K.A Soul Silk).

Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

---

Six Years Ago

---

Fast doesn't even begin to cover the sheer speed the winged hero is capable of, and coupled with his reaction time and environmental awareness he seems down right inhuman at times. As far as you can tell there are few skills he's incapable of executing mid-combat and you find it all the more admiral that a considerable amount of that talent is focused on support and rescue work. It says much for his character that life takes precedence over the promise of glory

Memories of darkness and pain nip harshly at the back of your mind, the fear that'd overcome you when the car fire had finally died out was printed red on the backs of your eyelids. You can still smell the stench of burning gasoline and the heavy tinge of sweet iron, the feel of sand in your hair.

You dream of it sometimes, even a year later. You don't usually get back to sleep afterwards either, despite the tear inducing exhaustion riping painfully though your body. Instead you pull up the 24/7 Hero News website and hope that you'll catch a glimpse of red feathers flashing across the screen, hear that smooth, masculine voice quipping at his comrades, snarking at his opponents.

Anything to make you feel safe again. Anything to remind yourself that the dark of your room is only temporary, that the blankets tucked tightly (too tightly, always too tightly) around you are soft and pliant under your hands.

The news plays in the background as you finish washing the night's dishes, reporters droning on about Hawk's exploits in a seemingly endless stream of praise and condescension. Rapidly cooling water drips down the front of the kitchen sink and soaks the front of your shirt despite your best efforts, and you take a moment to unstick the cloth from your skin with water-wrinkled fingers.

The fabric is sopping in some places still, heavy and discolored with dish water despite the wringing you give it. The rain outside seems to somehow add to that feeling of dampness despite you having not been outside all day, the pitter-patter of icy droplets battering your window like icecubes caressing your spine.

It's as you lament the condition of your clothes and the weather that the beginnings of a though begins to take root in your mind.

'If only my clothes were made from my quirk.' You thought exasperatedly, not for the first time, while entering the livingroom to watch the rest of the report before you had to do laundry. 'Then I'd never have to worry about wet clothes again.'

On the news Hawks stands before the cameras with his trademark devil-may-care smile on his lips, eyes half-lidded and entire hero persona picture perfect but for the way his clothes seem to sag and darken unevenly from the rain. A more aggressive reporter manages to sneak in a baiting question about the teenager's glaring inexperience in the field and the winged hero quips back in response, water dripping from the tips of his long deflated hair.

He looks miserable standing in the rain, the bright colors so characteristic of him dulled and darkened by the gray overcast, by the rain soaking him to the bone. Even as he's smiling you can tell it doesn't reach his eyes, barely even manages to fully form on his lips as question after intrusive question is hurled at him from the hoard of intent faces. You don't miss the way he glanced to the side occasionally, towards a rail thin man standing quietly beside him, meeting the teen's gaze every time with a narrow-eyed stare.

You don't think you've ever seen Hawks so unhappy before. Not on the battle field with hellfire raining down around him, nor any of his interviews with a panel of venomous snakes breathing down his back. Not even when he'd misstepped during his first solo multi-villian battle and had more than half of his left wing exploded right off his back.

No. You'd never seen him looking so miserable before and more than anything that quiet discontent in his eyes racked your soul with a sad, profound longing. Without conscious thought the tips of your fingers begun to warm and turn black, dark roots creeping up the veins in your fingers and fading at the knuckles. Moments later the beginnings of your silk spilling forth onto your lap and latching onto your pant legs catches your attention.

It did that from time to time when you got overly emotional. Frankly, the lack of control was embarrassing and never failed to remind you of why you were never able to train it past its current potential. Your doctor had said it was nothing to worry about though, and that you could maintain a normal life even with the occasional accident.

You'd thought about going to a quirk specialist shortly after you'd hit your current limit, but ultimately decided against it when you caught sight of the price tag attached to each visit. You reasoned that even if you managed to start producing more silk there'd be little use for it besides having readily available materials on hand if you ever felt the need to sew. So you dropped the matter entirely and carried on with your life.

Until a year ago, that is, when your whole world came crashing down around you.

You quickly shake those thoughts away, instead focusing on detaching the silk from your clothes before they can weave into the fabric they're touching. Yet another oddity you've had to learn the hard way. For the first twenty or so seconds before it cools and solidifies, the silk will try to latch onto any available surface and meld to it. Honestly, it was more annoying than anything and sometimes you regretted not being able to get it checked out by a specialist.

It took a few moments but you eventually managed to get the silk separated into their individual strains. They're each around ten inches long, though some had managed to stick together at the ends to more than double their length.

Exasperated, you pluck up the longest of the bunch with the tips of your darkened fingers, holding it before you with a frown. The black strands remain stuck together and you knew from experience they'd now be impossible to disconnect.

The flash of red on the television catches your attention for a moment and your sight blurs as it attempts to refocus. In that brief second, however, the black of your silk melded seamlessly into the darkened cloth of Hawk's soaked jacket and undershirt. In that exact moment, the quiet thought came to your mind.

'My quirk has never been useful to me. But maybe, with enough patience and effort, it can be of use to someone who deserves it more than anyone.'

And so begun the trials of your labor. The physical manifestation of your unspoken devotion.

---

Present Day

Hawks wasn't sure what expression had managed to slip past his usually perfect control, but whatever it was must have been fearsome indeed because the young researcher before him was sweating bullets beside his mentor. Said mentor was glancing disappointedly at his assistant and had yet to step in, instead opting to shake his head and cross his arms with quiet exasperation.

"So." Hawks begun in a slow drawl, still smiling but for the way his eyes narrowed. "We're just throwing civilian names into hero politics now are we?" The assistant lowered his head, but remained silent. "Making sure to break all those confidential clauses, huh? I've got to admire your spirit though. Go big or go home is the name of the game in this industry, after all." The winged hero clapped a hand over the other's shoulder, making sure to look him right in the eye as he finished. "How's it feel to be the uncontested winner?"

The assistant took a deep, fortifying breath before finally speaking. "I got carried away. My actions were a direct violation of Proper Hero Agency Conduct and I understand there will be repercussions. I-" The young man pauses again, almost breaking eye contact but the hand tightening on his shoulder quickly made him reconsider. "I let my pride get in the way of proper procedure and it's potentially put a civilian in danger." The assistant grit his teeth and closed his eyes. "I didn't win anything. I fucked up. Knew it the moment their name came out of my mouth."

There was a tense silence before Hawks himself broke it with a loud, exaggerated sigh. "It can't be helped I guess. Chicks gotta break a few eggs before they can grow after all." Everyone pointedly ignore the fact the Hawks was only a few years older than the assistant. Most of all the assistant.

The winged hero threw his head back, letting his entire posture slump and his face crumple into an irritated frown. "They're probably having a heart attack right now."

You were panicking. Inwardly, for the time being, but you weren't too far from having a total breakdown. For three hours your phone has been blowing up with an unknown number of texts and calls, half of them demanding your compliance and the other your service, all of them wanting your attention. None of them were making much sense.

The bit about various hero agencies wanting you to work for them was clear, what wasn't though was the why in this situation? The only thing you could think of was the uniform you'd given Hawks (you were well aware you'd probably been on camera the entire time you'd been near Hawk's agency), but such things were dime a dozen in the hero industry and you didn't believe for a moment Endeavor's agency was hurting for costume designers.

The next thing you could think would prompt this response was that there was something about your quirk you were unaware of. Something, apparently, heros deemed valuable enough to look for. What it was you weren't sure, but you knew enough about yourself to know your quirk, while fairly simplistic, was still an unknown to you in many regards.

Still, the sudden influx of unexpected messages was stressful enough. Add that to the fact most of them were from distinguished hero agencies with members that could literally demolish mountains and you were feeling more than a little pressured. Even a little frightened by some of the more demanding messages you'd managed to glimpse before retreating to the other side of the workshop.

You could barely move your furniture across the room most days, what could you do if the likes of Best Jeanist or Gang Orca decided to pay you an unexpected visit?

Okay, that was the panic talking. Not only was that scenario completely illogical, the jab at Gang Orca for having a stereotypical villian aesthetic was uncalled for. Time to recenter yourself and get some much needed fresh air into your lungs before you start accusing All Might of fraud or some such nonsense.

It takes a few minutes to get the muscles in your back to loosen and your mind to stop spitting out half-coherent worst case scenarios, but you manage with a few intense rounds of breathing exercises. By the end of the ordeal you're exhausted, even a little sore from the lack of air before hand. You're functioning again though, and that's what matters.

Now in better control of your thoughts the most obvious solution to your current predicament comes to you with little prompting. You don't even hesitate. There is not a single doubt in your mind as to what you must do.

This is your chance to finally pay back the man you owe your life too. This may very well be the only chance you'll ever get and you've learned that life is far too short to squander the moments that matter.

Your slip on your coat and gloves, making a few last minute adjustments around the shop before stepping out the door and locking up behind you. With your purse on your shoulder and your eyes lit with hopeful determination you walk out into the world with renewed purpose.

You leave the phone.

Nothing they have to offer matters. It never has and you doubt it ever will. They could offer you jewels and they'd collect dust, the world and it'd keep on spinning. They could grant you eternal life and you'd have given it up in a heartbeat for this one chance.

He's the only one that matters. The only one whose attention means something.

He is your priority. He is your only priority.

#Takami Keigo #Takami Keigo x Reader #Hawks #Hawks x Reader #BNHA

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navtastic · 4 years

Text

Some rimmer headcanons under the cut Bc I was thinking about writing a fic but have commitment issues when it comes to actually writing

[[MORE]]

1. Rimmer is autistic and you can pry this out of my cold dead hands. Main ways he stims are his salutes and biting his knuckles. Huge parts of why he was bullied and treated poorly by his family come from the fact that he always has had issues sociallizing in the “”””normal”””” way and has related learning issues. Very obsessed with being punctual and following social rules that he doesn’t quite understand, a lot of his self esteem issues come from the fact that he knows he’s doing the right thing per social conventions but he’s doing it wrong?? Why is it wrong when he does his version of it, he’s trying his best?? Projecting onto a fictional character time: is very much the way he is in the show because he was able to repress a lot of the things that made him ‘obvious’ and now just appears to be an incredibly socially awkward/weird person as opposed to someone who just communicates differently. Likes repetitive, involved, logic and planning related type things (war strategy, board games, schedule and list making, engineering related stuff). Zero actual interest in Astronav type stuff but feels obligated to be good at it and has it drilled into his brain that it was the only way he was going to amount to something so he forces himself to try to be good at it, but that’s part of the reason he’s so crap at it. So used to being bullied that he feels like he needs to be above other people to protect himself because he’s so used to abuse of power being pointed at him.

2. Gay. that’s it, just gay. He knows it, he doesn’t deny internally as much as he did as a child. He’s absolutely absorbed so much homophobia from his family that he goes to great lengths to cover it up, but he isn’t unaware of it or so repressed that he’s convinced himself he’s not. All of the talk about women and porn and all that shit is a very elaborate and paranoid cover. He literally owns straight porn so when lister digs through his shit he thinks he’s found rimmers real porn and stops looking. Keeps gay porn stashed in some ridiculous hiding spot. Tells himself he’s verse but he’s really just a kind of dominant/pushy bottom. Did actually have sex with Yvonne because that was a gross and dodgy situation (on both ends but falls on rimmer because he was in control of his faculties) she was not fully aware of the situation but he was not the one who initiated it and essentially went along with it out of a lack of self respect and awareness for what was going to come of it (which makes him shitty because rimmer is still a scummy, miserable person). In his teen years and early twenties he thought maybe he could really ‘cure’ himself of it some way but everything he tried wasn’t worth it in the end and he just decided to never speak of it.

3: what made Ace different. Repeating a grade comes off like a joke when it’s explained that is why Ace is who he is. Really when he repeated that grade he was put into a remedial type class that tended to gather the kids with learning disabilities, bad home lives, trauma, etc (all the things that tend to make it harder for a child to suceed) and he was given new tools that boosted his confidence in being able to learn and socialize, maybe never got a proper diagnoses but just the proof that he could learn and do well if he approaches things in a different way was a huge game changer. Still had a lot of deep seated homophobia from his family and trauma from being treated differently from his brothers but it was easier to cope. Ace is still gay and the whole saving the damsel in distress and riding off into the sunset shit comes from following socializing as set rules instead of something involving nuance, follows the trope of a hero because if he’s going to go around saving worlds he’s going to do it the ‘right’ way, which is part why he has such an over the top ‘action hero’ stereotype vibe. Ace wishes that more of the rimmers he met were willing to listen to him because he just wants to drop a truth bomb and open of their potential. Ace still has a lot of unsorted issues, they just tend to be more internal than immediately obvious.

4: Relationship with Lister: incredibly, ridiculously angry and embarrassed when he realizes lister is attractive. Will never admit it but when Lister is first teaching Kryten how to break his programming he’s sad that no one ever taught him how to break out of his ‘programming’. His want to be friends with Lister is something he struggles with (early seasons especially) because he craves Listers respect but the only way Rimmer knows how to get respect is by outranking someone. Comes out to lister when he’s drunk. Lister has casually mentioned men in ways that he mentions women (but never directly says he’s attracted to men, so it just becomes a paranoid obsession in Rimmers mind, is he into guys or is rimmer just reading into it to much?) and brings up a story that is blatantly about a guy he’s dated (but rimmer still isn’t quite sure because it’s not a 100% straight forward statement) and Rimmer comments on his jealousy of lister being so open minded and nonchalant about men. Lister puts the pieces together from there and makes a point to try to make the environment of the ship more welcoming, still takes rimmer ages to fully come out. (Lister is the biggest bi on the ship and isn’t fully in the closet, he just doesn’t talk about it explicitly, people who know how lister communicates pick up on it, but most people just think he’s a friendly guy)

5. Clothes and presentation. This ones more for fun because I would love to see how rimmer would dress himself if he could get past more of his trauma. Shorts and cropped pants and tailored pants are a big one. If there wasn’t such a stigma on how gay men dress and style themselves he would be less afraid to wear something a little less baggy. Actually loves color (the uniform change from the khakis to the red, blues, and greens he wears later in the show is just absolutely fantastic. Not an accessory person, would rather just have a smooth, sleek look with well fit clothes and a pop of colors on neutrals. I think the cross dressing in the show doesn’t necessarily/purposefully come from a malicious place but is definitely a sign of the times, outdated ideas of humor and a lack of understanding of gender non conforming. Rimmer wouldn’t be opposed (well if he could get past his trauma (which is why we only see this trait in low rimmer or when he has the holo virus)) to dressing up in “””female”””” clothes, especially not the odd accessory or sexy outfit if it were a kink thing but has an overall more masculine sense of style. In a perfect reality where he was nurtured and encouraged I feel like he would identify and present in a more fluid way, but the cannon rimmer isn’t really capable of recognizing and expressing himself like that.

6: Sexual/romantic History. Oh boy. rimmer has been on dates with women, mainly to keep up apperences and make it look like he’s trying to be successful with women. Has no idea what good flirting sounds like because all the times someone has genuinely flirted with him he’s explained it away be convincing himself they’re just overly friendly or are trying to make fun of him (or he just doesn’t pick up on it). When he flirts it’s either completely over the top obvious garbage because he’s trying to get his point across or it’s vague small comments that really aren’t flirting because he’s attempting nuance or feels like he’s being to out in the open. Has had maybe one or two sexual encounters with men, always on shore leave as far from where the ship has docked as possible and always working to cover his tracks the entire time. By the time the stasis leak happens his sexual encounters with men had never reached penatration and really just amounted to some head and fooling around that he felt conflicted (but happy) about afterwards.

I probably have more floating around in my brain but I’ve really only just hit season three of my rewatch so this is all based on early seasons, some fanfic I binged, projection, and what I remember from the other couple of times I’ve watched the series.

#red dwarf #arnold rimmer #written stuff

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alchemist-shizun · 5 years

Text

So close feels so afar

Inspired by this post by @draw-your-perfect-world

Word Count: 2,777

Taglist: @ragingdumpsterfiremess

Characters: Roman, Deceit, Remus, Patton (briefly), Logan (briefly), Thomas (briefly) and Virgil

Pairing(s): Let’s say if you squint in one way it could be Roceit, if you squint in another way it could be Prinxiety, but it can all be interpreted as platonic

Warning(s): (Characters are all sympathetic), negative thinking, self-deprecation, self-doubt, swearing (once)

Summary: Thomas is having trouble with his content, it’s gone on for so long that the sides themselves are starting to overwork so much they get overly stressed. Roman has a thought. A bad myriad of thoughts.

A/N: Before you read, let me warn you that this is written in second person from Roman’s point of view. Soooo, two angsty Roman fics in a row huh? I feel the need to write one in which he only gets all the cuddles and gets appreciated aah pardon me for breaking your hearts, but the opportunity was too good to be passed up. Hope you enjoy!

✾

❝ My heart is twisted, heavy, wrong.It's like it knows I don't belong.

The world is big, lovely to be.And yet, there is no place for me. ❞

It wasn't the first time for you, was it?

« I don't know, guys ... I think we should just discard this whole video. »

The heavy feeling on your chest as you realized that, in the long run, your contribution didn't matter anyway, that your motivation was starting to fade away, letting the hopelessness take its place instead.

That everything you did or tried to do didn't matter or was useless, in any case.

You tried to speak, and god all those eyes on you, the attention you once sought now felt like the unbearable weight of a thousand people's judgment. You felt uneasy in front of the four people you knew and that knew you best.

When Thomas sighed and looked away, no longer paying attention to your words, you began to stagger as you tried to rescue the pieces of your confidence that had started to inevitably break and fall into the pit of your chest, pushing and pulling you towards the heavy void.

Your voice died down and your argument lost its meaning along with its importance.

« Great. This was a complete and utter failure. » Logan sank down faster than any other day. You wondered what had happened to his problem-solving nature and his constant willingness to help in critic situations.

You believed he was ... better at this than you. In fact, you had no idea why you even bothered to give your own input on the topic.

Well, there was always this urge to prove yourself in the eyes of Thomas you'd been having for quite a while, maybe even too long, so much that you grew accustomed to it.

Maybe the problem with that was that, unlike Logan, you felt. You thought that was what was wrong with you all along.

Sure, Patton felt too, but he had dealt with that for such a long time that he knew how to handle it and how to still be reasonable through his thinking process.

Virgil, despite having to manage some of the worst feelings, was also cautious thanks to them, analyzing every possible outcome.

And you? You had your passion. Sure, that was a big part for Thomas's interests, but beyond that?

You felt.

You felt ... like something wasn't right.

Because when Logan disappeared, leaving a somewhat irritated expression as the last image of him, you blamed yourself.

When Virgil shrank in his hoodie and shook his head before sinking down, you blamed yourself.

And when Patton excused himself with a pained look on his face, you blamed yourself yet again.

You grimaced and ignored the knot forming in your throat.

« I'm sorry. » an apology that felt as useful as your ability to solve the situation that same day.

The blaming didn't stop when you sank down before you could hear Thomas's response.

Did you even want to hear it?

You traced the little drawings you had carved on your door years earlier, refusing to get into a room that seemed so foreign; did "Creativity" even fit you anymore? You couldn't remember the last time someone didn't shoot down one of your unreachable ideas.

Like a thunder in the middle of a quiet evening, a memory appeared on your mind and flashed before your eyes: it had happened little after Virgil had fully joined your part of the mindscape. You had agreed that, in any circumstance and for any issue, you would've been there for each other. Always.

You went to Logan first: as we already mentioned before, problem-solving, right? Wrong. Or, at least, in that particular moment.

You were met with a terribly stressed logical side, that you were pretty sure was trying very hard to keep the "logical" part as he paced around his room almost literally shaking with nervousness.

« Not a good time, Roman. » was all you heard when you opened his door with caution. Before you could justify your visit, he excused himself and went back to look like the same messy state his room was in.

Patton was your second choice, but how much of an appropriate idea could it possibly be, when you saw him lying on his bed feeling even worse than you? Your selfless nature rushed over your body and you ended up comforting him instead of trying to open up on your own feelings.

Why did it always have to end up like this? Why couldn't you just talk for once? Patton would have returned all the favors you gave him, you were sure, then why was it so difficult to admit you felt sick of yourself?

You closed the door of his room behind yourself, your heartbeat increasing. You were almost there. But you just couldn't find it in yourself to worsen Patton's already precarious condition with useless musings that would have only broken his heart.

No, you were completely wrong. There was nothing to be concerned about, the only problem was Thomas's enormous lack of content and you had to shove away whatever problem you had.

Now didn't that feel absolutely horrible to think that, Roman? There was no escaping it.

While trying to understand why you were doing this to yourself, you came across Virgil's door.

Your hand hovered over the handle. One twist and it would've been it.

You backed away and decided against it. If Logan and Patton were already feeling horrendous, who knows what you might have encountered.

You looked to your left and your eyes met the dark sides' rooms.

And you wondered, just for a split second, you reflected on that thing. Something you were so afraid to name but that came into your mind so often you almost believed it.

It had started in the imagination, when Remus playfully once insulted you and you hadn't found the will to deny anything.

Then, while by yourself, you started being more critical of your own ideas and works, you sat for hours with a blank stare coming up with nothing but blatant banalities.

Eventually, you slipped up. That one game night, when you agreed when someone called you an idiot. You knew they didn't mean it, but you still felt like you needed to point out that yes, you thought that too, deeply and every single painful moment of your existence.

It was the way Virgil called that.

Self-deprecating.

He said it was his job and Patton insisted both of you should have stopped saying terrible things about yourselves.

Neither of you did.

That term stuck with you and you weren't able not to wonder if perhaps there was a possibility you could identify with it.

And when the other came, right then, with you staring at the dark sides aisle, that feeling of wrongness increased to the point you couldn't bear staying in the "light" sides corridor anymore.

In a matter of seconds you rushed over to the door of their common room.

When he opened up, expression neutral but just that slight bit surprised, Deceit raised his eyebrows. « Well? »

« Self-doubt. » there it was.

« What? »

« There's been a mistake. » you tried again, you couldn't follow your breathing pace anymore. « We need to switch places. »

« Switch- I'm not following you. »

« I am self-doubt.»

« Huh? »

« You're self preservance. »

« I'm flattered and all by this enchanting game of words, but I really think you should get some rest. Did Remus hit your head again? I told him to refrain from that. »

You shook your head visibly and a heavy sensation rose in your chest. Your shaky hands gently pushed him back and you let yourself into the room. « You don't understand. »

Your eyes searched for one thing only. One person only.

Remus had propped himself up on his elbows, previously lying on the couch in the, you believed, most normal position you had ever seen him.

You approached him, all the eyes were on you just like moments before, and you were sure you were also metaphorically reconnecting with his dark nature. Or was it really dark? Didn't you make that up?

While Remus's face showed veiled concern, you sat on the floor in front of the armrest. He sat up and looked down on your bleak self, an eyebrow slightly raised.

With your chin buried in your crossed arms on the armrest, you felt the urge to break down to anyone that would just finally, finally and simply listen.

And you didn't even know where to start.

« You were right. » Deceit cautiously came close as you spoke. You noticed him, with the corner of your eye, take a seat on a chair next to you, leaning toward the scene. « I'm just like you. Not worlds apart, nowhere on opposite spectrums. »

Remus shook his head. « What are you talking about? » he whispered, more like a reprimand than a question.

You couldn't help but insist, your eyes started to burn and you realized you were blinking back tears. « You know what I mean. »

Oh, but when did anyone, actually? So gone and lost, so miserable you refrained from ever believing in the others' understanding.

« It just took me longer to come to terms with it. Too long. And now I've messed it up because it's too late to fix this, to fix me. »

« Ro- »

« No! » you buried your face in your arms, nose pressing on soft material. Deep inside, you knew you did that only to suppress the fact that you were on the verge of crying, of showing yourself weak and incapable to get back up on your own. « I am not Creativity! » but you knew hiding it didn't have a meaning anymore.

Your head shot back up and you stared at your brother with a tear-stained face. « You are. More than me. »

« You're saying I should replace you? » Remus's voice sounded offended. No, almost ... hurt.

You nodded, holding your breath to refrain the flood of seemingly nonsensical words from flowing out of your mouth. Or, at least, you tried to do that.

« It's that- » you shuddered. « I haven't been productive in forever, and you're always here having different ideas every single day. »

« My ideas are- »

« It's obvious you're better at this than I am. » you looked down and allowed one terrible thought in your mind. You believed, clouded by your own insecurities, that maybe he should have taken your place. « I should just stay here with you. »

« Don't say that. » Remus got up, his voice a mixture of mortification and annoyance. As he made his way to his room, you couldn't have known how the thought actually completed his sentence. Don't get my hopes up.

You slumped back from the armrest and lowered your head so that you couldn't notice Deceit finally standing in front of you and offering you a hand to get back on your feet.

You looked up.

« I know everyone tells you to be wary of me, but can you trust me this once at least? »

You took his hand.

In a matter of seconds, both of you were sitting on the couch, trying to sort out the thoughts that were piling up in your head.

« I don't think I belong with them. » Deceit had asked you to give voice to your troubles. « I've been the least useful and now Thomas is barely creating content or having ideas. I should be the confident one, I should be comforting him while all I do is ditch everything that comes to my mind. »

« And how does that make you feel? »

« Worthless. » you immediately blurted out. « Futile. Stupid. A waste of space. » the words kept coming in an overflowing self-deprecating chaos. « And the others see it, too. »

Deceit gave you a questioning look and you immediately felt like you said something wrong. « You haven't confronted them about this? »

« It's unimportant. It's simply a fact. They're all too stressed over the issue Thomas is having. »

« They're? You're not including yourself, why? »

« How can I be stressed over something when I'm doing nothing for it? »

The look came again, but this time you felt like he was trying to scan your soul by solely staring in your eyes. You didn't know how much time had passed before he spoke again, but you could have sworn that, for a moment, nothing else around you existed.

« Roman, have you ever thought that you feeling this way might be the cause of Thomas not being productive? »

This time, the confused expression landed on your face. How could that be? No, definitely not. That was not the case. He probably meant that they should get rid of him since he was causing so much trouble, he-

« You've already seen how our behaviour can affect him drastically. If you feel like that, you might be preventing yourself from using your powers fully, thinking it's useless to even try, and thus you're limiting yourself. »

« ... And in doing so I'm limiting Thomas. »

Deceit nodded with the same energy of a person that finally got their point across, the relief and satisfaction of someone that was able to make their interlocutor understand an important topic after hundreds of tries at explaining.

« You are a terrible liar, and I can't believe they haven't realized this yet, but I can't also change the fact that you're an astounding actor. » he sighed, but that line left a sad smile on your lips.

« I'm a man of multiple talents. »

« Also, you don't have to belong anywhere, Roman. Having you here, on a rough time for Thomas, though, I don't believe it would be ideal. » his gaze had fallen to the floor before his voice turned lower. « We're all trying to look out for him, you know. »

That was when your look turned softer and you understood. You started wondering things that weren't meant to be brought up just yet, but that might have been troubling him for a while.

As you were looking for the right thing to say, Deceit gestured for you to follow him to the door he then opened as soon as he was close enough. Out of it, the corridor to the others' and your own rooms.

« Go and tell them. You might spare us some more agonizing days before they figure it out on their own. »

One step out of the room, and you didn't even get the chance to thank him. The door closed behind yourself so quickly you almost believed you had dreamt the entire conversation.

With no time to process it all at once, another figure poke out of a door and pulled you into yet another dialogue.

« Ro? » Virgil rubbed at his eyes sleepily. « What are you doing over there? » there was no accusing undertone, just genuine curiosity. Then again, it might have been the sleepiness, you told yourself.

You approached him. « Just venting. »

« To Deceit? » still no complaining.

« He seemed to be the only one available. »

Virgil nodded, then you could have sworn you had seen a faint nostalgic smile curve his lips. « Good choice. »

« Huh- »

« Why didn't you come to me, again? »

« You were sleeping. »

His mouth, this time, twisted into something more somber. « Roman,» he called, lifting up his gaze. « When I said you could come to me when you needed it, I meant I could make an exception on executing you if you were to wake me up. »

And you didn't know if it was for Deceit's comfort earlier, for Virgil's softer voice or for the general hopefulness you finally regained after seeing a flicker of light coming from the end of the tunnel of your insecurities, but you found yourself with your arms wrapped around his chest.

« Oof- alright. » he patted your shoulders a couple of times. « Come on, big guy, let's get the others. I woke up from a three-hour nap and apparently all my problems haven't been solved by some kind of deity yet, so I think we deserve a fucking break. »

You allowed yourself to smile and, this time, you meant it.

« We truly do. »

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lostbvttons · 4 years

Note

Hc for Wilson?

WELL where do I even start, uhh.. most of my headcanons for him are based by in game stuff and what's said by klei, or shown in videos or stuff like that but there's a few that I've put on his character through the years:-Wilson is about 32 y/o-Overly protective of everyone, even from the smallest things-This one is more of a personal one: Not an actual graduate, I imagine he dropped out of college at some point because it wasn't teaching the things he actually wanted to learn. He's not a certified scientist, but knows a lot from books and experience.-More than once his experimentes blow up on his face, I imagine he's got a few burn marks over his arms and body in general, being either from acid or fire. -this one is also a personal one, but he's always carrying candy on his pockets, he likes candy but they're not exactly for himself, he uses them to cheer other people up sometimes because he's bad with words.-He will try to carry all the kids at once and fail miserably at it-He is always the one getting hurt. I've always imagined He's kind of a clumsy guy, so even if he's just walking around he usually comes back to the others with one or two more bruises than when he left-Drama King TM, he uses his hands a lot while speaking.-Wilson is not very vocal with his emotions, he's not very good at expressing them verbally, but he IS very expressive with his face, so even though he doesn't say much the others know exactly when he's upset or happy.-ON THE OTHER HAND. HE WILL NEVER SHUT UP ABOUT THINGS HE KNOWS. He's pretty vocal in game, factual and tactical, though a little clumsy and careless with his lines, so I always imagined he'd just talk for hours about anything he's passionate about.-Pun lover but that one's canon.-He was lonely by choice before the constant, and even after he was brought in he did not realize how lonely he was, until he found company with the other survivors, after having company for a while I imagine he's now very Aware whenever he's Alone Again, and doesn't like it one bit. -Stubborn, extremely stubborn, oh god what a bonehead. But it comes from a caring place.-Secretly a sweetheart, After the comic where he helps maxwell despite of how this guy treated him in the past, I think no one can deny that he does care about others, even when he doesn't necessarily like them, he will always lend a hand to help and he doesn't go out of his way to be cruel to others even if they've hurt him in the past.-but in that row he is also very easy to trick, Wilson builds confidence and trust around people way too easily, despite getting tricked before, he doesn't realize this at all.-Even though he's easy to trick he WILL stand up for himself, not letting others step on him. -Sassy. -This one is more personal too, but Wilson hums a little tune whenever he's working on something, he doesn't realize this, he just gets so focused on whatever he's working on he starts doing it without thinking.I think?? that's about it? I can't recall what else right now but I'll probably be adding stuff LMAO I've been wanting to draw him more but I've been a little busy lately! If you all wanna leave your own headcanons in the ask box feel free to do so! I love hearing other people's interpretation of the character

#Wilson #not art #DS asks #I've put a lot of thought on Wilson over the years because of the RP blog I used to run #but also because I just love his character #he's extremely good #Thanks for the ask though! I don't usually get many but when I get them I'm a little slow to answer because I just ramble for hours LMAO #and I would like to draw for each one but I'm so busy most the time x_x #long post #Anon #Ti arts

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amberandmetal · 5 years

Text

Of smoke and desire

Written for: @revengingbarnes for their 10k challenge. Prompt: Teen wolf AU. Pairing: Incubus!Loki x FemaleWerewolf!Reader. Warnings: Smut, as no express consent is given and reader is technically under the influence of Loki’s demon sex mojo this can be seen as dub-con if you squint. But the want and feelings were there before so not really, but you know. Better safe than sorry. Rating: E Word count: ca 4 k Summary: The Asgard pack asks the Starks for help when trouble arises regarding their youngest. A/N: This is my first AU!..I think. I’ve written UA’s before (which I have come to learn is not the same thing, who knew). This was so fun to write, especially since I’m a Teen wolf fan since way back, and it was just great to try to piece all these characters into this world and try to fit their backgrounds into something that would work and ugh, yeah. Fatima, this was a groovy ass challenge and I had so much fun with it. Hope you’ll, and whomever might read this, like it! P.S English is my 2nd language and this is unbetad: all mistakes are mine.

The TV was set on low, some insipid program on in the background. The sun had just started to set and cast a warm glow over the snugly furnished living room. You hummed and burrowed closer to Natasha on the couch, yanking at the blanket covering her so she’d let you in to share the warmth. You wrapped yourself around her under the warm cover, letting the shared body heat and gentle lavender from the aroma diffuser calm your senses.

You had all been on edge for most of the evening. Clint was deeply submerged in the games on his tablet, while Bucky and Steve had taken to the gym, going round after round, trying to beat the stress out of their systems.

You and Natasha were different, the boys needed their distractions, but you two sought comfort in each other, in the pack bond- and the tidal wave of oxytocin that brought with it.

Nat pulled you closer until your head rested heavily on the little dip beneath her collarbone. From the outside you both looked completely at peace, but inside there was still tension chilling your bones.

Your Alpha had gotten the call almost four hours ago. Worry had ghosted across his face only for a moment before it was replaced with what Bucky and Clint liked to call his “Alpha face”; strong, set, determined. He’d left right after the call ended, giving you nothing on what had happened except that the Asgard pack had asked for his assistance and “I will be back as soon as possible, don’t worry-”

“But you know we do.”

Tony had stopped in the door and turnt to you. A fond smile lighting up the seriousness that had taken over his features. He gripped your chin and tilted it up, caressing your cheek when his eyes found yours.

“I know.”

That had been four hours ago.

It was never an easy thing when your Alpha was away, his absence churned in your bones. They liked to tease you about it, calling you the little lapdog of the pack, blaming it on you being the youngest and that you needed to “stop being such a pup”. But it was different for them.

The Stark pack was a family, but unlike the Asgard pack it was not by blood. The others had their biological families scattered over the country and they stayed in touch and occasionally left to visit.

Other packs liked to refer to you lot as “Stark and his little collection of rescues” and though absolutely meant as an insult it wasn’t far from the truth.

Tony had been the only child of the infamous Alpha Howard Stark, and when he and his wife passed away in a car crash, Tony was the next in line. Alone and miserable he’d set out on a path of self destruction; years spent deep in dark coloured bottles, powder that shot through him like electricity, and the arms of whoever would have him. He’d been barely alive when James had found him.

James had been a part of Tony’s life ever since, and as the pack’s emmissery the first person their Alpha went to for advice. You didn’t care that he wasn’t officially pack. Rhodes was family.

Tony had started looking for a pack then, finding those who either had nothing left to live for or those who had no life left to speak of.

Steve had been the first. Tony found him in a hospice care facility, the list of things wrong with him longer than the one with what wasn’t. He’d explained to him exactly what he was offering, the good with the bad- and the risk. But he’d told Tony exactly the same thing as everyone else in the pack when asked.

“Anything is better than this.”

Clint had been deaf, depressed and living his days looking out from the bottom of a bottle.

Bucky had lost his left arm in war, and isolated himself, plagued by psychotic breaks brought on by severe PTSD.

Natasha was a different story in the way that nobody knew it. She left about once every third month for a week or so and nobody actually knew, but assumed she visited some sort of family. How she came to be a part of the pack was a secret solemnly kept between her and her Alpha.

And then there was you, the youngest and newest addition to the pack, even though it had been years since you turned they still treated you like the smallest sibling: always teasing you. But they also were very protective and spoiled you -as Tony liked to say- rotten.

You were the only one in the pack that hadn’t been turned by your Alpha, and it felt like missing out on a connection the others had.

Three years ago your family had been attacked by a rabid alpha. To this day you still had no idea why she had gone for you or your parents- or your brother.

Tony had showed up, but it had been too late; you survived your wounds, your family didn’t.

Once Tony had you somewhere safe with the red haired woman you’d come to know as a sister looking after you, he had set off with Steve, Bucky and Clint, tracking down the she-wolf who had ruined your life.

Later after the deep wounds had healed; after her claws had forced your body to turn; after you’d wrapped your head around the fact that not only were werewolves real but you had actually turned into one; after the initial shock of your family’s death had died down- you asked them what had happened to the woman.

“We decided her head and body wasn’t a good fit and had to part ways.”

And that was the first time you met Clint.

It had been a horrible year, dealing with the loss of your parents, trying to accept what you had become, struggling to find a place in this new family where everybody was a little broken, but worst of all: trying to accept and deal with the loss of your little brother.

Tony had been by your side countless hours, when you woke up screaming from nightmares, when the anxiety hit you so hard you couldn’t control your shift, when everything in you crumbled and roared in a vortex of pain and you’d felt like you could never get up again. He had taught you control, he had helped you heal and he had given you a safe place- a new family in the ruins of your old. There was a reason you were so close with your Alpha.

Your head snapped up when the unmistakable sound of a key turning in the door reached your ears.

You weren’t the only one. Tony had barely gotten into the living room before he was crowded by five werewolves, pushing up against him in search of the calming effects of their Alpha’s scent. All of you completely reeked with worry.

Tony managed a small chuckle but it sounded strained. He touched each and every one of you in turn, a warm hand on a bare shoulder, knuckles brushing softly against a cheek, a neck getting affectionately scratched. Lastly he turned to you and dropped a kiss on your forehead- you almost purred with the warmth of it.

“What’s wrong?” Steve was the first one to speak up. He had been with Tony the longest, and as his first there was a bond there that the rest of you didn’t quite understand.

Tony sighed and carded his fingers through his hair, trying to smooth down the tufts of stray strands that stood on end.

“There’s a situation..”, he moved toward the couches and motioned for you to follow “Loki is missing.”

As if by command all of you sat down on the cushions, backs straight, your shoulders pulled back and your senses spiking.

“What do you mean missing?!”

Loki was the youngest of the small Asgard pack. There was Odin the alpha, and his wife Frigga. They had six children, three of which were off to college. Thor, the eldest worked as a carpenter and he was often around your house fixing whatever new thing that’d been demolished. Sif was his younger sister and one of the only two in the family that wasn’t a werewolf; she was born a human but she was still fiercer than any of them. Besides Loki she was your favourite.

Loki was, like you, the youngest, and like Sif, a human. He was slimmer than the others, fairer and quieter. He was beautiful and odd, and his smirks always more resembled smiles when directed at you.

“He had a fallout with his father and took off.”

Bucky scoffed.

“Are you telling us all this commotion is because Loki decided to run away? He’s an adult for fuck sake!”

A sharp look and a warning growl reverberating at the bottom of Tony’s throat was enough to make Bucky shrink back on the couch, eyes averted.

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” Tony said sharply, “apparently there is more to Loki than we thought. And I’m not overly impressed with Odin for keeping this from me.”

He sighed, leaned back and laid a heavy hand on Steve’s thigh. The other man took it instantly, squeezing it in a reassuring manner. You all felt a bit more at ease at the grateful smile that pulled on your Alpha’s lips.

“Loki is adopted-”

“What?!”

“-and he just found out. And apparently our boy is not a hundred percent human.”

Clint and you blinked at your Alpha in unison.

“Hold up. What? Loki? Shy, spindly noseinabookbecauseyouallsuck Loki?”

Tony shot him an exasperated look.

“I just mean.. how? And what is he then? He’s obviously not a wolf? At least he doesn’t smell like one-”

Tony sighed again, pulling his hand up to rub at his eyes.

“Fuck. Yeah okay, so we’re doing this then… Apparently he’s a demon- part demon, according to his father.”

There was complete silence around you. Everybody, including the otherwise composed Steve and Natasha, just stared at Tony, jaws dangerously close to the floor.

“You can’t be serious?”

“Afraid so.”

“But how-”

“When-”

“I mean he’s just so-”

“Exactly! And he’s never-”

“He’s never shown any indications of-”

“Alright, enough!” His alpha voice cut the air like a whip through the chatter and you all fell silent.

“Frigga told me, after the signs started showing in his early teens they started slipping him something they got from Bruce, some root or, some other..- look, I don’t know! That’s not the point. The point is that Loki is out there somewhere and he is a danger to others as well as himself. He doesn’t know his demon side, doesn’t know his powers. And something like that? Lying dormant for years until suddenly, it’s not? He will be feral, more demon than human..” he inhaled deeply and then let it out in a long sigh, “We don’t hurt him. The Asgard pack came to us because they trust us, lets not give them a reason to regret that choice.”

Darkness had already started to descend when you reached the big wooden sign of Beacon Hills Preserve. Odin and his pack stood there already waiting for you. Rhodes was there too, his eyes soft as they fell on the pack.

Odin stepped forward.

“I’m glad you came.”

“Of course, Loki is important to us too.”

The two Alphas grabbed each others hands for a moment.

“Come. The trail ends about two and half miles northeast of here.” He motioned for his wife, Thor and Sif, and a man you’d never seen before but who you assumed was their emissary Bruce, to follow him; and you followed suit, ducking into the heavy foliage of Beacon Hills preserve.

Natasha and Bucky kept to your sides, as close as possible without touching, and their scents were dense with the spicy sweet smell of ‘pack’ and ‘protect’.

You scented the air, wrinkling your nose in confusion when you couldn’t find a trace of Loki in it, but instead a thick smoke-like odour. It didn’t have the typical threads to it that you could pull on to trace and find whatever you were tracking; it was more like a billowing thing, seeping into the lush dank air of the forest like it belonged there.

“If you find him, incapacitation only. No matter what he says or does. The demon in his veins has him overtaken and I do not know what we will find,” Odin paused, raising his flashlight and peering into the woods for a second before looking down, his wife brushing his cheek softly, “ he is still my son. Blood or not. I think you of all people can understand that, Stark.”

Tony looked back at his pack, turned back to Odin and nodded.

“We won’t hurt him.”

The rest of you gave various sounds of agreement and Frigga, Sif and Thor looked at you gratefully. Frigga laid a gentle hand on Tony’s shoulder.

“Then let’s bring my boy home.”

“Here’s where the trail ended a few hours ago,” Thor spoke up “the scent of smoke is too strong here. We will fan out from this point, if you find him you call. Understood?”

Nobody spoke, everyone simply nodded . There was a pressed atmosphere, something pensive and tense hung thick and syrupy in the air. It seeped into your spine.

Tony instructed who should go where, and with a last squeeze of her hand and his cheek quickly pushed against yours Nat and Bucky had taken off and you were staring into the heavy vegetation, its edges blurred by the twilight.

Beside you was suddenly the soft sound of heavy paws against wet soil; you turned and blinked at the large white wolf. He looked stoic and regal in the low light. There was a reason why Odin was the most respected out of all the Alphas in Beacon county.

His red eyes glowed in stark contrast against the silvery white fur- blood on a silken sheet. And then he was gone, leaving you the last to take off.

The shift always seemed strange to you; it was a relief yet a sadness- a hurt. Everytime you shifted it reminded you of why you were what you were in the first place. Every turn was a reminder of what you had lost.

But it was also an alleviation- like finally opening your eyes after having kept them closed for too long.

As your forehead changed and morphed with the ridge of your nose your sight grew clearer, the edge of the leaves sharper. The claws on your feet burrowed into the earth as you pushed down, reveling in the scent of damp soil flooding the air and the change that trickled up your back. You pushed down the immediate need to howl out all the stagnant energy that was bursting to be let out now that you finally had opened up.

You took off, thankful for the forgiving fabric of your sweats as you pushed forward down on all fours, running so fast you were practically flying. It was hard to remind yourself why you were here, to not get completely lost in the sensation. Loki, you had to keep your focus on Loki.

You ran until you couldn’t hear your family on your sides anymore, until you reached a cliff overlooking the entire town. You stopped there to scent the air, willing your senses to find even the faintest trace of Loki. You allowed your fangs and claws to retract, gently shifting back with a sigh, stretching and cracking your neck. You needed to think, and it was always harder when shifted. As a wolf everything was much more primal, more emotions - less logic.

~~~

Your name travels to your ears like a whisper, something sooty and rich. Behind you stands Loki, or what looks like Loki.

You feel the familiar tug at your heart at the sight of him.

“Loki, thank god.. We’ve been so worried-”

“I can smell you.”

“What?”

“Is this what it’s like for you all the time? The sensory overload? Everything smells so rich, potent..sharp. Especially those mutts.”

You take a bewildered step forward, hand hesitantly reaching out.

“What-”

“You don’t smell like them, though, no..- you smell different. Syrupy sweet. I can practically taste the honey dripping from you.”

You take another step, reaching for him. There is something off. There is that scent of smoke and ash that clings to the air like it’s evaporating off of his skin in clouds, and his voice sounds odd, like his own but fuller, heavier, as if his voice were carried by an echo.

You start feeling a bit dazed, the fear and nervousness from before tightly wrapped and cocooned in the softest of blankets.

You look up and you’re close enough now to see his eyes and the raven ink bleeding into them.

“Loki..”

He blinks, like if he suddenly realises where he is; the chartreuse battling for dominance in his eyes and he looks at you, almost pleading.

“I’m so hungry. I can’t understand it. I’m so hungry.”

You close the last piece of distance between you and wrap your arms around him, pulling him close. Beneath the smoke that burns your nostrils you can sense a faint trace of Loki. You smile in relief, burying your nose closer to the curve between shoulder and neck, breathing him in.

“I don’t know. I don’t know, Lo. But we’ll fix this.”

His arms snake around your back and he pushes his face into your hair, inhaling deeply.

“Oh.”, he says like he’s finally come to understand something, “oh, you smell delicious.”

He grips the hair at the base of your neck and pulls, drawing you back to look at him. Obsidian orbs stares back at you and you feel that soft haze again, pulling at you, lulling you into their depths.

“It’s you, sweetheart. It’s you I’m hungry for.”

And that’s when you feel it, the hard ridge against your hip, straining and warm even through two layers of fabric.

He leans over you, fingers still twined in your hair, holding you in place, and licks from the corner of your mouth across your cheek to your ear.

“Shift for me, pet, I don’t want to hurt you.”

His voice sends a shiver from just behind your ear, down your skull and neck, curling over your shoulder and clavicle, dancing down your chest and stomach until it finally reaches between your thighs and blossoms out in a red hot heat. A low moan tumbles unsolicited from your chest and to your ears it sounds almost like a purr.

Your thoughts are swimming in vapor, it’s the primalness of being shifted with none of the sharpness.

Loki bites softly at your earlobe and hisses “shift.”

You let your head fall back, trusting Loki to hold you up as you allow your wolf to come out.

“There she is”, he praises. There is a soft venom to his voice, a dense blackness that is overloading your senses by the second.

Somewhere deep below the fog you recognize a few thoughts, past fantasies about having Loki like this, about being brave enough to tell him how you feel. This was not how you’d thought you’d end up with him, wolfed out in the arms of a black-eyed demon, but it was Loki, and it felt too good to question.

He lowers you onto the ground, the mossblended grass a soft cushion beneath you. Above is the night sky, dark and clouded, a blanket shielding you from reality, keeping you a secret from the world, keeping you locked away and safe.

His long slender fingers are everywhere then, pulling and tugging on your clothes until you are bare before him.

You look up, eyelids heavy and soft. His shirt is off but his pants are still on but unzipped. There is no hint of green left in his eyes, and there is smoke in his voice.

“This, this is what I hunger for. Oh, you’re delectable: a feast. Look at me with those beautiful golden eyes, huh? Shining like treasure for me.. what a treasure..” His hands are on your waist, sliding up and down your sides, following the curve of your body; kneading and scratching, leaving raised welts that are gone the next second. He leans over you, a feral demon with the softest touch, and kisses your lips. It is fierce and desperate, and his lips taste cold and lush on your tongue. Demon and darkness and human and flesh.

“Loki..”

He pulls your knee up by your thigh and lays heavy on you, his breath ghosting over your face, cold and smelling of scorched wood. There is not much left to think, to consider, the option was never there anyway. How you came to be here is irrelevant, what matters is that you have him, fair skinned and beautiful above you, and that he chose you to satiate his hunger.

“Please..”

His eyes snap up to yours and the last piece of white in his eyes gets clouded by shining ink. A gorgeous raven ready to devour you.

He enters you so smoothly that it almost takes you by surprise. He is hard and warm inside of you, throbbing and buried to the hilt. You squirm breathlessly beneath him, losing yourself in the moment, completely forgetting about your claws as you dig them into the flesh of his back.

He jerks, pushing even deeper into you as he hisses.

“Sorry..I- sorry..-”

“No. No, it’s good. Give into it, pet. Give it to me. Give me everything you have.”

And there is no mistake in the low moan that rumbles in your chest, a primal growl clawing inside you as he begins to move.

His hands and lips are everywhere, working you body and soul, pushing you to the edge, pulling and twisting, licking and biting. It’s like he is absorbing every sensation that lights within you, as if feeding on the echo of your desire.

He barely pulls out, as if he can’t bare to not be inside you for long enough to thrust. Instead he keeps buried inside you, rutting with an intensity that has your toes curling and your eyes lighting brighter.

“I need.- I need- I..”

He groans, loud and deep, biting your neck as he speeds up, his pelvis putting enough pressure on your clit to make you see stars.

“Give it to me, please.. I’m so fucking hungry.. I need..- give me.. give me.. please!”

You climax on a sharp inhale, your back bowing and lifting you both from the ground. He does not let up, but keeps moving furiously between your thighs, gripping your throat and sucking hard on the side of your neck. You shatter in a million pieces there in his arms, convulsing through the aftershocks as he keeps pumping into you, his hips digging into the flesh of your thighs. You can almost feel the bruises forming, and for a second you think that you wish they would stay.

When he joins you and finally tumbles over the edge it’s with the most sated exclaim you’ve ever heard, relief colouring his voice thick and luscious.

He falls to your side, pulling his coat over you both and cradles you to him, as close as he can; as much skin in contact as humanly possible. None of you speak.

Loki has changed; there is smoke living in his skin now. But you have loved him before and you will love him still. Again and again, whatever he needs to satiate this hunger- if he will have you.

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girlmeetsliv3 · 5 years

Text

Purgatorio II

Warning: The following story contains mentions of suicide, depression, anxiety, manipulation, abuse, and vivid descriptions of abusive acts. The behavior and mindset of the characters in this series will be incredibly yandere and toxic. This is a work of fiction and doesn’t represent the character of bangtan sonyeondan. Enjoy ~~~

A psychologist had come to visit him approximately an hour after Dr.Kim had left, an hour after the conversation had died down and the two individuals in the room were embraced by silence. There had been nothing to really speak once their thoughts on the situation had been expressed and Yoongi was never a fan of small talk. Neither were you it seemed, for that he was thankful. When the older man with round glasses and too many wrinkles in his forehead entered, Yoongi had to mentally prepare himself for the questions he was about to endure. He quite honestly feared the man because of the power he wielded. If he deemed Yoongi a danger to society he would ensure he never left the plain white walls that surrounded him, incarcerating in a literal prison and not just the metaphorical one he was used to. He was on the brink of a full-on panic attack the closer the man got to the bed and it made him upset of how weak he truly was. Anxiety manifested into a rage, all he wanted to do was pound the man’s head into the wall and inform him that he was perfectly sane. All the racing thoughts and emotions were halted the moment he felt the warmth of your hands enveloping him.

He had failed to notice you standing up and was curious as to what exactly you were doing. He barely paid attention to the conversation occurring between the psychologist and you, solely focusing on your face and all the expressions you were able to exhibit in a manner of seconds. How he envied you. He failed to notice a question that had been directed at him until he felt a slight squeeze coming from you. “Mr.Min? Is this true?” The psychologist looked at him with intrigue and he recognized that tone of voice, it was one used often by his teachers when they wanted to catch him in a lie. Whatever you had said, he trusted you a lot more than he should truthfully. “Of course.” Yoongi had learned at a quite young age the shorter and less detailed a lie, the sweeter it was. The doctor simply nodded as his eyes focused on Yoongi’s and yours interlocked hands before stating he would sign the discharge papers and bring along documentation for you to sign. It wasn’t until the door closed behind the man that you let go of Yoongi’s hand a breathed a sigh of relief. For some reason he found himself missing the warmth.

“What did you tell him?” He asked you with curiosity. You turned to look at him with confusion evident on your face, “Weren’t you paying attention?” Yoongi simply shook his head which only served to leave you reeling for answers. You had assumed that since he had cooperated in your lie to the psychologist he must have been paying attention. [y/n] felt her ears begin to heat up with embarrassment. You hadn’t minded improvising and doing whatever it took to help the miserable man in front you, but his desire to know your reasons put you in a tight spot. Min Yoongi was an individual that seemed to hate pity and believed the worst of the world around him, you had once met someone of a similar mindset. If you were open and honest about your intentions would you help him or just provide more of a reason for him to wallow in his own self-pity. Honesty is the best policy…just not right now.

“I told him that we had a fight whilst you were drunk, and you probably tried to light your cigarette and ended up causing the fire.”

“So, you made me sound like an alcoholic… Wait, a fight?” His eyebrow quirked.

“You’re more likely to get discharged if they think what occurred was out of a rash decision, instead of a premeditated one.”

“You still haven’t answered my question. We had a fight?”

“I told him I was your girlfriend. They couldn’t get a hold of your parents while you were here and if you have no one to account for you, they won’t discharge you.”

“My parents are dead, at least to me…”

“Sorry.”

“You seem to know a lot about hospitals.” It was the question you expected, but you still couldn’t help the words dying on your tongue. In fear of what would come out if you opened your mouth, you merely nodded and hummed in agreeance. Your evasiveness to all his questions wasn’t helping diminish his growing interest in you – which if he was honest with himself wasn’t all that healthy. Yoongi desired to personally know all of you. Whatever that entailed. You were an enigma and, in a world, so black and white, he desired to know and understand why you were grey. A thought popped into his head – a game of sorts. How would you react? What would you say?

Another nurse had come inside the room with stacks of paperwork. Bringing along a pen and informing Yoongi of his medication, treatment, and where to sign in order to be allowed to once again enter hell. His signature was thick, and the pen felt heavy in his hand, it was almost as if he was signing a deal with the devil; promising to endure a life of pure and utter agony until the end. Yoongi may have been desperate, but one failed attempt was enough for him. He didn’t desire to build a reputation for himself or never be allowed to leave the ugly eggshell colored walls which surrounded him. Returning to his everyday life was something he anticipated but hoped to delay. Imagine his utter surprise when the nurse turned to you and asked you to sign the document as well, handing you a copy to keep and repeating all the instructions once again.

“What’s going on?” Yoongi asked his eyes darting between [y/n] and the nurse. “Mrs.[y/l/n] has agreed to be your guardian until you’re deemed stable enough to care for yourself Mr.Min.” He was usually better at controlling his emotions, but the nurse must have seen the quick flash of uncertainty in his eyes as she suddenly turned to you and asked poignantly. “You are his girlfriend, are you not?” As you opened your mouth to respond, attempting to come up with something quick before this whole thing fell apart, you were interrupted by the Yoongi himself. “Oh right, that’s what the doctor said. Sorry baby I forgot.” He was just going along with the plan, that’s what you told yourself as you felt your cheeks heat up. All part of the plan. “Will, that be all?” You asked the nurse, desperate for her to leave. She asked if the two of you had a way of getting home that was wheelchair friendly and when you replied you didn’t she promised to order a cab.

After she left, the room was once again silent. Here we go. You prepped yourself for more questions, waiting for the next attack. It never came. Yoongi merely sat in silence and stared off into space, all you could do was stare at him. You had time to memorize every one of his features the entire month you had been by his side, but now they looked different. Truthfully he was an entirely different person to what you imagined he’d be like: he had looked so calm and peaceful in his sleep. Now there was a roughness present in everything he did. Someone who had been damaged far too many times and no longer trusted anyone – not even himself. It saddened you and caused another face to flash before you. Bright eyes, light hair, a peaceful face roughened by the world as well. Tears welled in your eyes and you forced the image to the very back of your mind. I won’t allow that to happen, not again.

“I have to get dressed.” It lacked any sort of enthusiasm or emotion. His voice and expression were robotic as he spoke, it wasn’t until your eyes met that a hint of something appeared in his cold eyes. [y/n] looked around trying to come up with anything that would serve as an article of clothing. Honestly, you had given some thought to getting him something to wear when he woke up but knew that was overstepping the boundaries just a little too much. “I think there is a gift shop downstairs. I can see if they have clothes.” Yoongi winced at the thought of having to wear an overly cringey shirt and ill-fitting slacks, but he relented. [Y/n] reached into her purse to grab her wallet, “What size are you?

“Extra-large.”

“What?!” You sputtered.

“The bandages need to breathe right? Get me an extra-large.”

“Oh.”

You could not have possibly dashed out of the room faster. Yoongi couldn’t help but burst into laughter at your reaction. Cute. There wasn’t much to do after you left, so he found himself counting the seconds until you returned. Once he reached twelve hundred, he became irritated. Why had you taken so long? How hard was it to find a stupid shirt and pants? Had you forgotten about him? Had you grown tired of him already? Did you decide he was useless and pathetic and abandon him? Twelve hundred and one. Twelve hundred and two. Where the fuck are you?! His question was answered when you burst through the door, arms filled with two sets of plastic bags with the sign thank you printed on them repeatedly. “What took you so long?!” He tried to hide the animosity in his voice, but you stopped in your tracks when you heard it.

“It took a while to find pants and I had to pick up your prescriptions.” [Y/n] walked towards the hospital bed and gently placed the bags beside Yoongi being careful not to disturb him. You reached into one of the bags and pulled out a long-sleeved black shirt, as well as some black slacks. It was as if you knew him. Something inside of him swelled at that. He patiently watched as you stared at the clothes neatly folded next to him and pressed your lips together as if in deep thought. Your head tilted to the side and you lightly nodded to yourself, almost as if agreeing with whatever decision you had made. The fact that you were oblivious to all these mannerisms is what made it that much more interesting to him. “I’ll go get a nurse to help you get dressed.” You pointed behind you.

No. “No. I can get dressed by myself.” He didn’t want you to go away again, even if just for a second. He began to pull at the strings at the side of his hospital gown, but [y/n] placed a hand on his to stop him. “Maybe we should get your pants on first?” The tone did not go unnoticed and Yoongi was once again reminded that under the gown he was stark naked. Without waiting for a response, you began to pull off the bed sheets and placed the pants near his feet opening them wide enough to get them through. It was like a mother dressing her sleepy child in the morning, you even asked him to lift his hips slightly so as to drag the pants up. Of course, you did this as your eyes stared at the ceiling and your lips were pressed tightly together in embarrassment. Had his mother ever done this for him? Did she exhibit the care you did? Is this how you would dress your children in the future? All thoughts were interrupted when you cleared your throat. The pants were now at his thighs and [y/n] had decided that was enough.

Yoongi struggled a bit, but he managed to pull the pants all the way up as [y/n] faced the wall trying not to see anything. Once they were properly on, he undid the laces of the gown and slipped on the shirt with ease. “Oh um, the hospital in providing us with a wheelchair until we get to your place, but then they have to take it back. So, they said it’s probably best to buy one.” The little bit of joy he felt faded again, “Alright. I’ll have one delivered to my place once I get home.” [Y/n] nodded and went to pack up her belongings, tying her hair into a loose ponytail to get it out of her face. Placing the bag on your shoulder you turned around and smiled meekly, “Ready to go home?”

Home. Home was where his demons waited anxiously for his returns. Home is where his passion and failure both lived. Home is where he spent all of his time wallowing in misery. Home is where he hoped to fall asleep and never wake up. Home was where you lived, right next to him. Home was where you were forced to interact since you promised to care for him. Home was where you couldn’t ignore him or abandon him like everyone else had or you’d be held accountable for his actions. Home was you. You were home.

“I can’t wait.”

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nellie-elizabeth · 5 years

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Queliot Fic: “Overthinking It”

Okay so I wrote this way before yesterday. Obviously. And there are a ton of moments in it that now seem super fucking depressing given the finale, but I was practically done with it and I didn’t just want to scrap it, so I’m posting it here. My very first Queliot fic. Woohoo what a *super duper fun time* to be dipping my toes into this fandom. I’m so devastated that I’ve been shaking for hours and last night after watching the episode I couldn’t fall asleep for hours. So that’s where I’m at.

But hey, good news? This fic has nothing to do with the finale! It has nothing to do with the Monster or a post-possession reunion! It’s something I started working on after seeing episode 3x05, in a made up world where Eliot can’t quite lie to himself about how he’s feeling, and Q is stubborn enough to force the issue. This takes place post 3x06, and so it does include reference to Q’s depression and Benedict’s suicide. I know in the show Q had to run off and find a way to get the key, but here I’m letting him hang out in Fillory for a hot second. Because he deserves it, damn it.

I hope you enjoy... or I hope it distracts you from the pain... or something. Here’s my overly indulgent first attempt at Queliot! I don’t think I quite have the character voices down just yet, and this is largely unedited, but I wanted to share it anyway. Hang in there, guys. We can get through this together.

Cross-Posted to AO3:

"How did he die?" Eliot asked. He said the words solemnly, without a hint of affectation or pretense, sliding down to sit next to Q on the floor with his back against the wall. The news that Benedict was dead felt like a dull, unreal spot in the center of Eliot's chest. He hadn't really known the mapmaker all that well, if he were being honest, but Benedict had become part of the texture of Fillory for him. He was there, like... well, not like scenery, exactly, but like something static, immutable. He'd never once tried to get to know the man, and he felt an uncomfortable squirm of guilt at the thought.

Quentin stared at the ground between his feet for a long moment, until Eliot leaned over slightly and nudged their shoulders together. "Q?" he asked softly. "What happened?"

"He - uh - the... the key, it sort of - did something to him," Q said. "He... um. He killed himself, El."

"Oh, shit," Eliot said, feeling his throat constrict. The haunted look on Q's face suddenly made a lot more sense. "That's - fuck, that's awful. The key made him do it? How?"

Q shrugged, their shoulders rubbing together a bit as he did so. Eliot may have been imagining it, but he thought Q was using the movement to move just the slightest bit away from him. He tried not to be hurt by the thought, focusing instead on Q's careful, quiet words. "It was, like, a depression key, I guess? When you held it, you'd see this cruel version of yourself, saying all the worst, most hateful things you secretly think about yourself... Poppy said it got to fifty percent of people right away, and they just... killed themselves to escape from the thoughts. Poppy was strong enough to hold on, but I guess Benedict..." he trailed off, his voice fading to a barely audible whisper. He still wouldn't meet Eliot's eyes.

Eliot could feel his heart pounding abnormally fast in his chest, and there was a strange ringing in his ears, but it actually took his mind a moment to catch up with his body's automatic responses of pure terror. "Q," he said, his voice coming out sharper than he'd intended, once the ramifications of Quentin's words had finally sunk in. "Did you touch that fucking thing? Did you?"

Quentin looked up at him, and Eliot didn't need to hear his answer. "Fuck," he said, and without pausing to think about it, he grabbed Quentin and pulled him against his chest, turning them so he could hold Q's face against his shoulder, keeping a firm grip on the back of Q's neck with his hand. "Fuck, are you okay?" he said, alarmed to hear the waver in his own voice as he gripped Q tighter.

"I'm fine," Quentin said, but he had his arms wrapped around Eliot and he was hold him so tight that Eliot could feel their heartbeats pounding together. "I'm okay, I'm... I think I'm okay."

"Don't," Eliot said, and then stopped, trying to calm himself down enough to say what he needed to say. The truth was, the thought of Q hurting himself had him gripped in a terror so profound he felt like he couldn't breathe. "Just, don't, okay?" he said finally, not sure exactly what he meant, not sure if it was the wrong thing to say. He simply didn't think he could manage anything more eloquent under the circumstances.

He felt Quentin let out a shuddering breath and then start to pull back, and it took a truly herculean effort to allow him to move away. But Eliot did, letting Quentin pull back far enough for them to make eye contact. "Eliot," Q said, his voice sad, and quiet, but also calm and strong. "I'm okay. Obviously things aren't... I mean, there's a lot of not so great things in our lives right now, but I'm not in that place. I'm handling my shit."

Eliot gave a brief little nod, and felt his lips twitch as he tried to force himself to smile. He met Q's stare dead-on, and squeezed the hand that was still behind Q's neck. "You come to me, or to Julia, or whoever the hell you want, but you don't go through any of this shit alone. Promise me."

There were other words that Eliot wanted to say, but didn't - I'd die if anything happened to you and please don't leave me and I'm not strong enough to face any of this without you.

"Yeah, okay. I promise," Q said, smiling slightly. "Thank you, El."

"Always," Eliot said, and because he couldn't quite help himself, he leaned forward to place a kiss on Quentin's mouth. He told himself it was fine, that he and Margo kissed like this, just a firm, solid press of dry lips, a declaration of friendship, of devotion, of love, but not like that or anything. Hey, if Eliot was going to spend the rest of his life pretending not to be in love with Quentin Coldwater, he might as well go for broke.

But Quentin didn't exactly stick to the game-plan. For a second, Q allowed the kiss, passive and still under Eliot's touch, but after a moment he shifted, bringing one hand up to slide into Eliot's hair, the other coming to rest over his heart. His lips parted, ever so slightly, and Eliot was simply not a good enough person to resist that, and before he'd given himself permission to do it, he was parting his own lips and pulling Q closer, one arm snaking almost by instinct around Q's waste, as Q deepened the kiss even further, making a soft, contented little sound into Eliot's mouth as he did so.

It felt like the most natural thing in the world. Eliot had always assumed that familiarity would make physical touch boring somehow, but he saw now that fifty years of being with this man hadn't been nearly long enough to get tired of him. Eternity wouldn't be enough time. He recognized the little sounds Q was making, recognized the way Q's hands were moving against the nape of his neck, sliding down to his lower back, and he also knew how to reciprocate, didn't need to plan it - supporting Q's head when he pressed his tongue into his mouth, stroking his thumb along the skin of Q's neck, all of it drawing them closer, all of it feeling so fucking good, a better high than Eliot had ever gotten from an illicit substance. The familiarity was part of the thrill, the knowledge that even though their bodies had technically never done this, (barring one hazy night with Margo), their minds and souls still contained a lifetime of connection. Eliot let his mind go blank, stubbornly refusing to think about what an awful idea this probably was. He felt Q shift the kiss to something sharper, felt just the barest hint of teeth against his lower lip, and let out an involuntary low moan, moving his body forward so they were pressed flush together from head to hips, so he could feel -

And then Q pulled away, taking his hands away from Eliot entirely and shuffling backwards on his knees until they were no longer touching. "No, I - " he said, pulling a hand through his hair in frustrated confusion. "No, sorry, I didn't mean to do that, I'm sorry - " he stood, and was already stumbling backwards a few steps down the hall before Eliot could get to his feet.

"Wait," he said, feeling oddly desperate, like if Q walked away right now he'd never see him again. "Q, wait." And Quentin stopped.

Of course, there was the fact that Eliot had no idea what to actually say. He thought briefly about rushing forward, pushing Q up against the nearest wall and - but no, he couldn't do that. He had to be a fucking responsible adult and not maul his partner - his friend - the person who he had but also hadn't spent fifty years loving. He had to use his words. "Fuck. I didn't... I don't know - " Eliot babbled, and as he walked the last few paces to Q, he reached his hands out automatically, looking to anchor himself the best way he knew how.

Quentin, to his credit, didn't jerk away when Eliot's hands reached out for his shoulders, but Eliot could tell he wanted to. "I'm sorry, Q," Eliot said finally, finding the words to be utterly inadequate.

"It's okay," Q shrugged under Eliot's hands. He had this horrible little smile on his face, one that screamed hopelessness and low self-worth. "I'm sorry too. I mean, you told me you didn't... and I wasn't trying to, um... I guess I just miss you."

And if that didn't make Eliot feel like the biggest asshole in the universe... "I miss you too," he said, mostly to get that miserable, sheepish expression off of Q's face. Not that he didn't mean it, because Gods he meant it. "I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do, Quentin," he said, seriously.

Something sparked in Q's eyes at Eliot's use of his full name, and he tightened his jaw, his throat bobbing before he spoke again. "What do you want to do?" he asked simply.

"Honestly? I want to keep kissing you."

"And after that?" Q said, his tone resolute, although Eliot was sure he'd felt him go tense under the pressure of Eliot's hands on his shoulders.

Eliot waggled his eyebrows a little bit, unable to resist the urge to break the tension, and Q let out an involuntary huff of exasperated amusement, before reaching a hand out to slap Eliot lightly on the arm. "Be serious." But there was a bit of hope in his eyes now, and Eliot didn't know how the hell he was supposed to live with himself if he snuffed that out again.

"I seriously love you, Q. And I'm seriously afraid I'm going to ruin everything." Eliot said. The words were as much a surprise to him as they evidently were to Quentin, whose jaw literally dropped for a moment before he realized and snapped it shut.

"You're un-fucking-believable," Q said finally. His tone was easy enough for Eliot to read, although he was sure he was one of the only people in the world who would be able to - Q sounded a little angry, maybe, but mostly just blank, a frightening sort of nothing that Eliot was all too familiar with from a lifetime spent with this man. It usually meant Q was about to yell at him.

"Q, I'm a mess, okay?" he said quickly, to cut Quentin off. It was important for him to hear this, for him to understand. "And when we were there, in the past, it was different, but here, everything's so complicated, and if I fuck things up and I lose you, I'd never get over it, okay? Can't we just - I don't know, can't we just be - us and not deal with - like - the specifics?"

It sounded pathetic to his own ears, and based on the grim look on Q's face, he was similarly unimpressed. "So what, you're saying you don't want to put a label on it? El, for fuck's sake, we were married, we had a kid - "

"You and Ari were married, Q - "

"Don't give me that crap. You don't want to be with me now, that's fine, but don't fucking pretend like what we had wasn't real. You don't get to take that from me."

Q still looked angry, but there was also a tinge of desperation, of fear, hiding behind his eyes, and Eliot, as if such a thing were possible, felt even worse. "Let's go somewhere we can talk," Eliot said finally, struggling to keep his voice calm. He had no idea what he was doing, but there was one thing he was sure of - he had to fix this. He couldn't stand to see Q hurt, and it was infinitely worse to know he was the cause of it.

He grabbed Quentin's wrist, resisting the overwhelming instinct to take his hand and tangle their fingers together, like they used to do when they'd go on walks to get away from the mosaic for a couple of hours. Q didn't fight him, but he kept his posture stiff as Eliot steered him through the castle and finally into his own bedchambers. Fen was nowhere to be seen, luckily. She was probably attending to running the kingdom along with Margo. Which was maybe what Eliot was supposed to be doing, but... fuck it. This had to be more important right now.

"It was real," Eliot said firmly, as soon as the door was closed and he was facing Q again. "It was fucking real, and I'm not trying to brush it aside, or..."

"But yes you are," Q interrupted, his voice just a touch too loud, a touch too high. "What you said, about... about that not being us when we have a choice... we had a choice, El. Sure, we were stuck in the past, and we were both committed to the quest, but none of that meant we had to fuck each other or raise a family together or be a goddamn couple - we chose that, didn't we?"

Eliot, horrifyingly, felt like he might be about to cry. He stared at Q, his beautiful, brave Q, and he really, really wanted to just say fuck it and go to him and, well, propose on the spot or do something equally insane to prove his devotion and love. But he couldn't do that. He wasn't strong enough for it and at some point Q was going to realize it, or Eliot was going to do something unbelievably cruel and then he'd lose Q entirely.

"We did," he finally said, pushing through a crack in his voice. "We did choose it, and I'm glad we did, it's just..."

"Eliot," Quentin said, stepping closer to him and bringing his hands up to place them on either side of his face. He tilted Eliot's head down so their noses were almost touching. "Do you trust me?"

"Obviously," Eliot said, although the word didn't come out quite as flippant as he'd planned.

"Nothing can fuck us up, El," Q said with conviction.

At this, Eliot pulled away slightly, keeping himself bent slightly towards Q, but creating a distance between them, to ease the temptation to press into him, kiss the words out of his mouth, show him exactly how he felt in the only way he'd ever been any good at. He felt like he might be trembling, which was all sorts of pathetic.

"You say that, but I think you're underestimating what a dick I can be - "

"I'm not," Q said, a hint of humor coloring his otherwise serious tone. "Believe me, I've factored that in. Sit down." He pulled Eliot forwards into the room and maneuvered them so they were sitting on the edge of the bed, facing each other. Q took Eliot's hands in his and looked at him for a long moment, and Eliot, remembering the way he'd looked away from Q in the throne room just days ago, forced himself to hold eye contact. He owed Quentin at least that much.

"Do you remember when we had that threesome with Margo?" Quentin asked casually, and it startled a laugh out of Eliot.

"Uh, yeah, Q, it's a little hard to forget."

"Well, that was a fucked up mistake and it shouldn't have happened," Q said. "Not because of you, although you were obviously in a really bad place at the time... I mean, it shouldn't have happened because... well, I was cheating on Alice, and because we were all under the influence of an emotional overdose and way too much booze... it totally fucked over my relationship with Alice and I still don't think we've recovered from it, if I'm being honest."

Eliot didn't say anything. He wasn't sure what to say, and he honestly had no idea where Q was going with this. After a moment, Quentin took a deep breath and continued. "But you and me? We were fine. We were good friends before that, and we were good friends after that, and we forgave each other without even needing to discuss it. And then, El, two days ago I told you I wanted to be with you, and you rejected me, and we're fine. I mean, yeah, you hurt me, but you didn't lose me because of it. I'm still here, and even if you said right now that you don't want me, it would still be okay. Because we're stronger than that - we're strong enough to live more than fifty years together and still love each other at the end of all of that."

There was another pregnant pause, and Eliot could feel his heart pounding fast again, this time the terror mixed with a dangerous dose of hope and love and all sorts of mushy things he was hardly able to admit even in his own mind. Q continued, a little quieter, after letting the silence stretch and grown between them. "So if we give this thing a shot and it all goes to hell a week from now, it'll suck. But it won't break us, because nothing can. We can go back to being friends, closer than most. You tell me right now you don't want this, and I'll leave it alone, Eliot. But if you do - "

And then Eliot was kissing him, a little messy, a touch too desperate, lacking the finesse of their earlier kiss, pulling Q forward, practically into his lap. "Yes," he said against Q's lips. "Yes, I do. I really, really, do."

Eliot could feel Q smile, the clack of their teeth together as he moved his mouth away from Eliot's and slid his face down to the crook of his neck and let out a somewhat shaky laugh. "Okay. Good. So you're done being an idiot."

Eliot laughed back. "Not by a mile, sweetheart. But that's okay, that's why I have you." He felt like he might be having an out of body experience, and he was pretty sure the rest of the world wasn't going to let them stay happy for long, but for now, he was allowed to push his hand into Q's hair and he was allowed to nudge Q's face off of his shoulder and connect their lips again. He was allowed to let himself feel this, and that was more than enough at the moment. He wasn't sure he was convinced by Q's reasoning - he'd fucked up so many good things in his life before - but he trusted his - what, boyfriend? That felt weird. Maybe when managed to tear his lips away from Quentin's neck, he'd ask him what they should call each other... it wasn't his top priority at the moment.

Later, actually much later, Eliot noticed with some level of smug satisfaction, seeing the black sky through the window, he was curled up with Q beside him in his bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling comfortably blank and exhausted, in a good way. He turned his head slightly so he could place a kiss against Q's forehead where it rested on his shoulder. "I feel a bit guilty," Eliot said, sighing in pleasure as Q squirmed against him, trying to get impossibly closer.

"Why?"

"This conversation started because Benedict's dead, and now I'm laying here, happier than I think I've ever been honestly, and..."

"Death makes people horny," Q said sleepily, nuzzling his nose in to Eliot's shoulder. Eliot laughed - more like giggled, and couldn't be bothered to care about his dignity.

"Hm, so that's what this is? You were horny so you came to your reliable pal - "

Q smacked him in the chest hard and sat up to look down at Eliot, but he was smiling. "Yeah. Also I really love you a lot, and you were being an asshole, and walking around with a depression monster telling you what a worthless piece of shit you are kinda gets in a person's head."

The grin slid off of Eliot's face as he looked up at Quentin. "You're worth everything to me, Q."

Q looked at him for a long moment, and Eliot had the overwhelming urge to crack a joke, change the subject, do something to ease the bubble of tension in his chest, but he'd decided to actually try for once, and that meant saying some of this shit out loud, didn't it?

"Okay," Q said finally. "Thank you." And then he smiled an easy smile, leaned over to press his lips briefly against Eliot's (both of their lips were swollen from how much they'd been kissing each other over the past few hours) and then flopped back down on Eliot's chest. "Let's get some sleep."

Q was asleep within minutes, and Eliot, to his surprise, felt himself drifting off almost immediately after him. Maybe they were actually done overthinking it, this time. Maybe it would work. Maybe they'd bring magic back and they'd defeat the faeries and they'd rule Fillory alongside Margo and Fen, and... and maybe none of that would happen, but he'd still get to keep this incredible person at his side when everything fell the fuck apart. Honestly, he was pretty happy with his options either way.

I didn’t really have a good way to end this, so I just cut it off here. Obviously the show would diverge from canon at this point, pretty wildly... in any case, at one point I might have considered writing more, seeing how the two of them becoming a canon couple in season 3 would affect the overarching plot moving forward. Maybe someday I’ll do just that, but right now everything is too raw. I hope this fic was a comfort or a distraction for some of you who might be feeling as low as I am right now...

#my posts #queliot #the magicians #fanfiction #magicians

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