#they might do the same reckless and dumb shit but the reasons behind it are completely different

[bat-the-misfit]

Ok, genuine question:

I suspect one member of the groups i listen to is the same type as me. Is there a shortcut or is it easier to know if someone has the same type as you? Like as if you had a radar to people of your type?

He's honestly so much like me I can't help but remember you telling me facts about my type 😭 I can't belive you're dragging me to the typology side of the force

But does he look like you when it comes to behavior or functions and stack? Bc you have to remember you can't type based on how someone acts - someone's functions are spotted when you ask the why and the how of their behavior.

If you type based on behavior you're not only mistyping the person but stereotyping the type in question. In you case ISFJ: closed-minded, very trustful, very caring, submissive, etc. These are NOT things that usually makes ISFJs be ISFJs, bc everyone of any type can be like that (even ENTPs, which are the opposite type.)

What makes ISFJs be ISFJs are using Si-Fe-Ti-Ne in their function stack. That's what you have to look for.

When you say he's "so much like you", is it because everything he does scream Si-Fe-Ti-Ne to you???

Does he look for comfort and security, staying is his comfort zone, having a large data of facts that are proven to be the best data, staying away from anything new and unreliable, chaotic and unreal because it's important for him to feel secure with what he knows it's more trustworthy (dominant Si - inferior Ne)? Or does he do that for other reasons? Does he do that bc of Ni reasons? Any other function reasons? See the motivations behind his behaviors.

Also check if his alleged Si is dom or aux. You have to see if his Fe is there as a tool and as a scale to the Si, not the opposite. See if he seeks out for the community (in this case the group he's a member of) to raise the sense of security and knowingness (Fe supporting Si = ISFJ). If he tends to repeat patterns proven to be the most efficient to make people get to social harmony, seeking the security and routine and physical things that bring "cozy" feelings bc he judges as more important to get that sense of "my group is feeling well" (Si supporting Fe = ESFJ), it's likely that you're mistyping him.

In case of an unhealthy type check if he seems to be in a Si-Ti loop as well. He'll completely ignore his Fe in this state. Same for grips. Look out for Ne grips as well.

Well any other questions you have you can come here and ask me bc you know i love to ramble :D

#i know i talk too much but you asked for it lol #i hope this helps you #I ALSO HOPE TO ACTUALLY BRING YOU TO THE TYPOLOGY SIDE OF THE FORCE #and no there's no shortcuts #even if you're of that type they might be very different from you so it's no use #you have to check for the functions and the stack regardless #it's sad but that's how it works #it won't be easier to spot people of your type #THANK YOU CAMILAAAAAA I LOVE RAMBLING #tio morcego tá tagarela #edit bc i thought of examples: #think Jesus and Hitler - do you think they're similar in personality? they're both INFJs #L from Death Note and Patrick Star - are they similar? “no Bat Patrick is dumb” yeah but they're both INTPs #Bubbles and Kylo Ren are both INFPs and they don't have anything in common. why? Kylo is in a Te grip while Bubbles uses her Fi really well #now if you think about the REASONS and HOWS they do/did things you will be how similar these people/characters actually are #same with the opposite situation: #don't you think my oc Victor acts EXACTLY like Tadeu does? #but Victor is an ESTP while Tadeu is an ENFP like they literally have no functions in common #they might do the same reckless and dumb shit but the reasons behind it are completely different #well aNYWAY

[kiribakuhappiness]

a touch-starved bakugou? yearning in general *-*

(Kiribaku Drabble Prompt) disclaimer: this is a section from a longer fic that i’ve since abandoned, i hope you like it all the same!

Deku knew.

It didn’t matter how he knew because the little nuances of shit like that didn’t matter to Katsuki. He only cared about the end result. And the fact was that Deku knew.

Fucking Deku.

Of all the people in their goddamn school to have figured it out, it had to be him. Katsuki should’ve seen this coming, should have expected it. Ever since they were kids, Deku has been watching him and taking notes like the little creep that he is – memorizing his moves and analyzing his quirk and – jesus fucking christ – learning his body language. It made his blood boil just thinking about it.

But as much as it raised bile in the back of his throat to admit it; he knew Deku almost as well as Deku knew him, and he could see that Deku knew. The way the broccoli-haired fucker was always staring at the two of them when they were together. The way he smiled like he knew some big goddamn secret that Katsuki hadn’t even told him about, hadn’t given him permission to know, because he would never tell fucking Deku something like this.

But there he was – fucking knowing anyway.

It really pissed him off.

“Deku,” he spat with as much venom as he could possibly muster on a brisk Tuesday morning. It was early and the hallway outside their homeroom was still mostly empty. Katsuki had gotten up earlier than usual, just for this.

“O-oh! Hi, Kacchan,” the fucker seemed surprised that Katsuki had even approached him, but he wasn’t trembling like he used to when they were kids. Still, Katsuki noticed the way his eyes flitted to the door, as though to map out an escape route in case shit went sour between them.

Katsuki narrowed his eyes. “You know.” It was a statement. An accusation. He didn’t need to clarify it. If the startled expression on the nerd’s face wasn’t the biggest goddamn giveaway on the planet, then the furious blush that settled across his cheeks a moment after was more than telling. Katsuki ground his teeth together and dug his fingernails into his thighs through the fabric of his pockets to keep himself from exploding.

“Oh… I mean, y-yeah I guess I kind of figured it out. I wasn’t trying to or anything, I know that this sort of thing is a sensitive topic, especially for you. N-not that it’s weird or anything, because it’s you! Of course, you’re allowed to like – “ The sound of his dumb, stammering voice alone was enough to test Katsuki’s already thin patience.

“Does he?” He interrupted with a sneer, cutting Deku off before he could spiral into one of his endless muttering speeches about fuck all.

Deku had the audacity to look offended by his abruptness, but only for a second. “Um, I don’t think so. I don’t really know him as well as you do, but your signals are pretty obscure, I don’t think even he would be able to pick up on them – “ Katsuki might actually kill him. Today might finally be the day. But not before they finished this conversation, because Katsuki had to know too.

“I’m not fucking asking about that you damn nerd! I know he doesn’t fucking know, he’s a goddamn idiot with hair for brains.” Katsuki snarled against the blossoming of warmth that was beginning to develop in his chest. It’s the only time he’s ever felt something like that before; when he was talking to dumb hair, or talking about dumb hair, or fucking even just thinking about dumb hair and his dumb-mother-fucking-hair.

It was intoxicating – this feeling – it was addicting. It was like adrenaline, but it burned hotter. Like an electric shock, but it tingled deeper, tangling with his intestines and settling down into his very being. It was all of the sensations that he loved about fighting, about soaring, about winning – but better.

Katsuki has never been one for that kind of touchy-feely bullshit. It was stupid, and gross, and there was no place for vulnerabilities like that when he was trying to become the number one hero.

But shit was different with dumb hair. It didn’t feel vulnerable; it felt fucking powerful.

Dumb hair was a hero too, and he was already strong; stronger than most people Katsuki had the misfortune of breathing the same air with. And he expressed that touchy-feely bullshit with a fervor so genuine that it pulled Katsuki in like some goddamn tornado, ripping him apart piece by piece and searing him with fire every time the idiot slung an arm around his shoulders or leaned against him in the cafeteria or bumped their hips together to let Katsuki know when he was just teasing him (cause Katsuki could never fucking tell, alright, fuck, nobody has ever teased him before) or when the idiot sat next to him in the common area and their legs brushed and touched and pressed closer together, like it was on purpose, and –

Fuck, Katsuki wanted more.

It wasn’t enough. It was never enough.

He’s never bothered with that kind of shit before; the hugs and the casual touches of friends. He didn’t like people in his fucking space, so he didn’t want that.

But he didn’t know how much more of it he could take.

The touching. The lack of touching.

For once in his entire goddamn life, he didn’t know what it was that he wanted. For it to continue, for it to stop, he didn’t know.

When Kirishima pressed into him as he leaned across him to show Duncehead something stupid on his phone in the cafeteria, Katsuki wanted to shove him away and yell at him to stay out of his space. But then, a few seconds later, when Kirishima would lean away again, he had to scrunch his hands into his pockets to prevent himself from reaching back out to seal the connection that had been severed between them, to bring back the warmth that had suddenly left him.

It was a headrush. It was too much. It wasn’t enough.

And Kirishima – laughing, dorky, beaming bright as the fucking sun Kirishima – had no fucking idea.

Or maybe he did.

Maybe he liked to watch Katsuki slowly cave in on himself as his insides turned to ash under the burning heat from a singular elbow pressing into the edge of his hip when they sat together in the common area; squished close, too close, together into one of those horrible couches surrounded by a fuck-ton of people, for one of those stupid movie nights that Kirishima kept dragging him too.

Or maybe he didn’t.

Because he was an idiot.

God. Why did it have to be him?

The one guy in the whole goddamn universe that had decided that Katsuki was worth pestering with his persistent friendship, his unwavering camaraderie, and Katsuki had to go and fucking fall head over goddamn heels for him like some kind of pathetic loser.

Whatever the cruel reason, Katsuki knew that dumb hair was different, that he’d give anything for more of it so long as it came from that redhaired moron, and Deku, of all fucking people, knew it too.

“Oh,” Deku looked confused as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Then his eyes widened. “Oh!”

Katsuki gritted his teeth and locked his shoulders into place, daring him to make some sort of sly comment or mock him in some way; readying himself for the absolute worst answer.

But no, Deku hit shit differently than other people did. Not only with his borrowed quirk, but with the way he interacted with people. He didn’t ridicule Katsuki with insulting words, but he also didn’t get to the goddamn point, keeping him tight and suspended over a cavern of the unknown. The fucking coward hid behind a barrage of boyish smiles and aimless stutters that may be able to disarm others, but it didn’t work on Katsuki. He knew him better than that. So he just glared harder.

“I honestly can’t say…. like I said, I don’t really know him as well as you do, so I don’t really know what tells to look for. He’s really expressive and kind to just about everybody.” Deku hesitated, looking like he wanted to say more, and Katsuki internally threatened him not to, but his silent warning went unheard as Deku straightened up; determined. “You should talk to him about it though. You seem to have gotten pretty close lately, and he’s a really great guy, I’m sure that even if he doesn’t – “

“Don’t tell me what I already fucking know!” Katsuki snapped, cutting him off again. He pointedly ignored the flush of heat spiraling up the back of his neck and spilling down into his cheeks.

He didn’t want Deku to finish that sentence. He didn’t want to fucking hear it. The other side of the coin.

The one where Kirishima didn’t feel the same way as he did, didn’t feel the burning touches as intensely as he did, didn’t look at Katsuki the same way that Katsuki looked at him, didn’t crave more the way that Katsuki did. He’s learned a lot about losing and failure since coming to UA, but this was one risk even he wasn’t willing to take without some form of guaranteed certainty. Now was not the time to be reckless, like he so often tended to be.

“I can see why you like him,” Deku said and his voice sounded soft and stupid. He wasn’t looking at Katsuki anymore, which grated on his nerves, and he turned to follow the nerd’s line of sight to see what had captivated him so much.

But of course, what else could it ever fucking be? The idiot’s smile was the only thing worth looking at. It demanded attention the same way the goddamn sun demanded to be noticed on a perfect summer’s day. Or some other metaphorically romantic bullshit.

Kirishima walked down the hallway towards homeroom, squished too closely between Soy Sauce and Duncehead for Katsuki’s liking. He looked sleepy, his tie knotted in sloppy haste, and he reached a hand up to rub clumsily at one of his eyes.

When he looked up and noticed Katsuki standing there, he flashed a lop-sided grin, and goddamn it if it didn’t send Katsuki’s heart into a fucking frenzy. Kirishima lifted a hand in greeting, beaming a smile so earnest it hurt to fucking look at. Duncehead looked over too, and he frowned at being ignored by Kirishima in favor of greeting Katsuki.

Fucking good.

“I think he’d be good for you Kacchan, and I think you’d be good for him too.” Today was the day Deku died.

Katsuki rounded on him and raised a threatening palm. “If you tell anybody about this, I swear it’ll be the last goddamn mistake you ever make in your miserable life.”

Deku has the gall to smile at him like they’re best fucking friends again, and he looked a little amused, which just pissed Katsuki off even more. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Kacchan.”

And fuck. Katsuki believed him.

#kiribaku #kiribaku drabble #touch starved bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou #midoriya izuku #bakugou x kirishima #kiribakuhappiness drabble prompts #bnha #asks

[pi-cat000]

BNHA: something sad (Resentment)

Summary: The last time Katsuki sees Izuku alive the other boy is rushing to save him.  A ‘the Sludge Villain incident gone wrong’ aka Izuku dies.

Characters:  Katsuki Bakugo

Fandom: My Hero Academia

WARNINGS! Major Character death, swearing, heavy angst, graphic descriptions of violence

Other parts in this AU: (Something Sad),  (Anger), (Grief) 

This is the direct sequel to (Implosion)

......

“Not many people get hit with a concussive blast of this strength and walk away will so few injuries.” Is what the paramedic that looks Katsuki over says, hand glowing a faint blue as he uses some sort of diagnostic quirk.

“It looks like you have a few cuts, bruising, strained muscles and sprained wrist from what I can see. I’d recommend getting a proper examination at the hospital but there’s nothing life-threatening here.” The medic continues.

The emergency doctor at the hospital confirms the diagnosis and shakes his head in disapproval, adding, “…bruising on your ribs and a fractured finger. No concussion, thankfully, but you’ll have a nasty bump on the back of your head. If your quirk didn’t make you naturally resistant to these sorts of shock-based blasts, you would be dead..”

…

After that, everyone is practically falling over each other to lecture him on how irresponsible and reckless he is.

..

His mum arrives and there is a lot of shouting which just pisses him off.

“HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO REACT WHEN I GET WOKEN UP AT ONE IN THE MORNING BY POLICE TELLING ME THAT MY IDIOT SON, WHO SHOULD BE ASLEEP, IS IN HOSPITAL!!”

 “WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING!

Then there is the quiet disappointment he gets from his father when his mum is done yelling which only fuels his resentment.  

“I don’t understand why you did it son. Did you want to get into that fight? Or was it a mistake? Please. We can’t help if we don’t know what’s going on.”

Eventually, he finally snaps, “I fucking felt like it! That’s why I did it! And you know what, I’d do it again.”

It wasn’t like he could or even wanted to explain that he’d jumped out his window to wander the streets at midnight because he had had a bad dream and his All Might poster had looked at him funny. That the rage and anger were preferable to that sinking empty feeling that had turned his every waking moment into a pointless repeat of everyday routines and useless interactions.  That every time he let himself pause and reflect, Deku’s stupid smiling face was mocking him from the afterlife.

Next, he spends an hour with Senior Officer Watanabe recounting every possible detail from his stroll through the streets to his climactic fight with Lanky, Tiny and Grease-Hair.

“Well, you definitely don’t do things in half measures kid. So far we have private and public property damage, unlicensed quirk usage, quirk usage with the intent to harm, vigilantly activity, assault...”

“Assault! Why the hell is that on the list. Those bastards started it.”

“You can’t go around beating people up no matter how good your intentions are!”

“So, you wanted me to just watch!”

“Yes!” A long breath, “I know it can be hard but you need to wait for the pros. You got lucky this time but what if things had been different? You had misread the situation. What if you had been badly injured? What if you had accidentally injured the victim or killed someone? There is a reason we make people get a license for Hero work. Seison Masuyama is a B-rank villain.”

“B rank? He wasn’t that strong.”

 “His quirk, Kinetic-Force, collects kinetic energy and releases it in one overpowered attack. It’s deadly to most people. You were lucky he had already used it once that day and that you were resilient enough to withstand it."

After multiple repeats of the ‘you’re lucky you’re not dead,’ with a side order of ‘it’s a good thing you’re still a minor because you could go to jail for this,’ he gets to go home.

It is three in the morning by the time he arrives back at the apartment, two exhausted parents in tow, having been issued an ‘official warning,’ an order to complete 100 hours of community service and instructions to undergo a psychiatric evaluation. He has never felt angrier or more resentful.

A days later and he is back at school, wasting his time watching clocks and avoiding classmates. 

Nothing had changed.

…

…

…

The car screeches to a stop at the school gates, throwing Katsuki forward in his seat. His mum turns to fix him with a stern glare, eyes narrow.

“If you’re not waiting right here by the gate when I come to pick you up or so help me I’ll be escorting you to and from your classroom from the rest of your school life,” she threatens.

“Lay off you old bat,” Katsuki snaps as was becoming routine since his mum had started driving him the short distance to school, “I got it the first million times.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.”  A finger is pointed at his nose, waving in an almost menacing fashion. “Remember. Here. School Gates. 4:00pm. Don’t you dare think about ditching again.”

 Katsuki sneers and kicks open the car door, turning to slams it shut with as much force as possible in retaliation. He stalks through the gates, shouldering his way through a group of loitering students.  They all scatter when they recognise him. In some ways, he prefers dealing with the anger and yelling of his mum than his father’s quiet disappointment. That doesn’t stop it from being annoying as hell.

A spike of pain runs through his hand from where he must have used a little too much force on the door. Maybe he should take his father up on those kickboxing classes. Sure, he had practised punching after reading a bunch of online guides, but reading and solo practice were completely different when compared with real actual fighting.  That was assuming he was going to be getting into more real fights.  He opens and closes his bandaged fist, feeling a slight sting in his wrist and fingers. He glares. Four days on and he can still feel the echo of adrenalin.  The thrill of righteous anger had been so much more satisfying than the directionless rage he was accustomed to. It had rekindled some of that fire that drove him to be the best, to win, chasing away the sickening emptiness which had been dogging his every waking step.

He wants to feel that again…He wants to do something other than listlessly go through the same daily motions as he drifts towards his now uncertain future. 

“Hey Bakugō!” 

He keeps walking, ignoring whatever loser classmates wanted to talk to him.

“HEY!”

A hand lands on his shoulder and Katsuki twitches, a hairs breath away from spinning and firing a blast point-blank into the pest’s face. Instead, he stops and deliberately turns to glower at the pathetic piece of trash behind him. Murata Taheiji from his homeroom is standing there, one hand on his hip, flanked by two other boys he doesn’t know the names of. Two more appear to stand in front of him, blocking his way. They are all puffed up like they think they’re hot shit. Katsuki scoffs. Are these failures really trying to bully him? HIM!? 

“How about you get the fuck out of my way and go find a first year to pick on. You know, someone more on your level.”

That gets him an irritated scowl that transforms into a patronising grin, “You were always such a stuck up prick Bakago…Acting so high and mighty all the time. Not anymore, I know the truth. You’re just like the rest of us.”

“Huh?” he drawls, dragging out the sound, turning so he is facing the boy, “What the fuck are you on about.”

“My dad works for Musutafu police dispatch and he told me something real interesting yesterday.” A dramatic pause, “He said that you got arrested a few nights ago.” There is a laugh that is echoed by the four surrounding him. By now the confrontation has garnered the attention of several onlookers, who are slowly drifting closer.

“All that shit about being a Hero and you got arrested. What’d you do? Steal some candy from a convenience store? We all know you don’t have money.”

Around them, the growing audience is eyeing him with varying levels of eager anticipation like they think he’ll break down and start crying because of some dumb-ass insults. Damn, if that doesn’t just piss him off. How dare these losers think him that weak.

“Don’t compare me to your loser selves,” he dismisses aggressively, making to turn and forcefully elbow his way past. He is stopped by Murata’s hand which is still on this shoulder.

“You know what I think. I think you’re all talk.”

Katsuki stills, letting the words sink and curdle in his stomach. In one short move, he turns and steps in close to Murata so they are almost nose to nose.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he warns.  The other boy tenses, looking like he wants to say something else equally stupid. If he remembers correctly Murata has some sort of muscle-enhancer, reflex quirk. One of the only worthwhile quirks in the school.

Katsuki jerks his elbow up and around in a quick jab. It smacks into the loser’s face. Crack. Guess having fast reflexes didn’t make a difference when you never saw the blow coming.

There is a cry of surprised pain and shouts of alarm from the peanut gallery. The other boy falls back, tripping over his own feet. It is ridiculously simple to lift a leg and deliver a kick to the stomach, not even a strong kick, so his failed bully thuds onto the ground, tossing up a small puff of sand. Unlike the fight in the ally, there is no rush of excitement, no spike of anger or adrenaline. No exhilaration. He is just irritated and maybe a bit disappointed. That’s what he gets for expecting anything out of the pathetic losers that went Aldera Middle School. They were more annoying than anything else.  

Murata rolls around in the dirt, wheezing, trying to draw breath. He can almost imagine Deku running up to complain about his violent tendencies or sprout some shit about Hero’s needing to protect people like Murata didn’t ask for it when he decided to try his luck bullying someone obviously stronger than him.

The reminder of Deku sours his already shitty mood.

“Ah…you broke my nose. YOU BOKE IT…ah…it hurts. Do something!” The idiot calls to his equally idiotic friends as he tries to stop blood from pouring down his face.

Katsuki gazes coolly at the boy before directing his attention at the four other ‘bullies’ standing frozen around him.

“You extras got something else to add to that?” With Murata out of the game, the rest of the pathetic group shuffles about uncertainly.

“Ah…we’re good,” The tallest one says nervously, “Sorry about that Bakugō. No hard feelings right?”

He scoffs.

One of the boys moves forward to pull Murata upright, kneeling and pulling out a tissue to help stem the flow of blood. “Crap. I…I think Murata needs to go to the nurse. This looks serious.” There are a few more apprehensive glances in his direction like the other boys think he’ll insist on continuing the ‘fight’-ha! like this has been anything near a fight- until they are all bloody messes on the ground. Kaksuki rolls his eyes. As if he has the patience to deal with any more of these losers.

“Cowards,” he mutters, shoving past. The crowd of students who had gathered to watch the failed confrontation, scramble to get out of his way. A strong breeze rushes through the school’s courtyard, drawing attention to how quiet it has suddenly gotten. Barely audible whispers follow in his wake and he can feel many sets of eyes on his back, watching.

“He always did have a bad attitude.” They murmur.

“Guess he’s a real delinquent now.”

“…did you hear what Murata said. Do you think Bakugō actually got arrested?”

“That’s got to be fake right? Murata is full of hot air.”

“No way. I believe it. You don’t have to share a class with him, I’m telling you, Bakugō’s gone nuts.”

“Kind of scary when you think about it. With a quirk like that...”

He doesn’t know why they’re all so shocked. This isn’t the first fight he has gotten into on school grounds. Okay, so maybe he’d held off doing any real harm before now, well aware that U.A. would probably check his school record. It had never mattered to him because there was no point in beating up weaklings when he was obviously superior. Except for Deku…the only person he had ever really hurt, the only person he could get away with hurting without repercussions. And now he feels like extra shit. God, what a huge farce it had all been. Kaksuki clenches his fist and growls, wondering if it isn’t too late to ditch and go find somewhere secluded to blow off steam. Anything to escape this feeling of frustration.

 He doesn’t have time to make a proper decision because news of his ‘fight’ had obviously spread to the staffroom. One of the second year homeroom teachers comes barrelling out of the school’s front entrance, eyes immediately landing on him.

“What happened!” Their eyes move past him to the bloody Murata, “Go wait in the principles office. Now.”

Well, he didn’t want to deal with his annoying classmates anyway. He stalks away, the sounds of the teacher fussing over Murata growing fainter behind him. When he arrives, the principal’s office is empty and he flings himself down into one of the comfy couches, irritated. The bell for homeroom goes off and Kaksuki remains sprawled across the couch, arm across his face to block out the light and his view of the clock slowly ticking away.  

Just as he begins to contemplate leaving, Principle Fukuhara comes strolling into the room. 

“ Bakugō,” the man lets out an exasperated sigh, “Sit up please.”

Katsuki moves his arm to peek out and glare at the man, deliberately ignoring the instruction.

“I just finished talking to Ms Yuki and the school’s nurse.  You broke Murata Taheiji’s nose. I hope you realise how serious this situation is and that there will be major consequences. Aldera Middle School does not tolerate this sort of violence on its grounds.”

Silence. That was a fucking lie. Slowly, Katsuki pulls himself upright, meeting the man’s hard stare with his own. 

“Well, do you have anything to say for yourself and your disgraceful behaviour..”

Katsuki narrows his eyes, “The idiot was asking for it.”

Obviously, it's the wrong response going by how the skin tightens around the man’s eyes, “I see...I’m sorry you feel that way. Up until now, our school has been more than lenient. We have overlooked your shameful behaviour these last few weeks because we wanted to give you time to settle after going through such as tragic incident. However, I am afraid that this time you have gone too far. Your parents will be notified. You’ll see the school councillor. You will be staying back for after school detention. Since this is your first major incident we…”

“First?” He cuts the man off. He is sick of hearing the moron’s voice. “Hahaha and people say you don’t have a sense of humour.” He laughs an unpleasant laugh which increases in volume until he is almost shouting.

 “What sort of shit hole are you running? Three years I’ve been beating up the dumb idiots that come here and now you decide to care. Why is that huh? Is it because I’m no longer going to put this shitty place on the map and become a famous hero! HA!”

He lets his voice quieten, sneering “I’ll never be a hero so you’re shit out of luck.” Finally saying it out loud is like throwing a bucket of water over the embers of an already struggling fire. It hurts deep in his chest. The expression of shocked disbelief is almost worth it.

“Thanks for proving what a worthless profession it is,” he finishes with another hash laugh, rage simmering under his skin. When he tries to stand and leave a hand lands on his shoulder, pushing him back down.

The principal, who still looks somewhat stunned at his sudden outburst, orders, “Sit back down Bakugō! I am far from finished.”

Why do people always feel the need to grab him. He is so fucking sick of everyone pulling and tugging on him, trying to control him and hold him down. Katsuki turns slowly, that simmering rage pulsing, running down his limbs. Pop pop pop go his hands. He feels as explosive fire gathering in behind his eyes and in his shadowy stare. It is not the dramatic, adrenaline-induced anger he had felt when preparing for the ally fight. No, this is a dark burning rage, fuelled by his growing resentment.

“Touch me again,” he growls, low and intimidating, “and I’ll kill you.”

The principal snatches his hand back like he has just been burnt. A poignant silence follows in the wake of his threat.

“Suspension,” the man says, swallowing,  “You’re suspended. I’m calling your parents right now.” And is it just him or does he look genuinely worried? There is even a hint of fear in his wrinkled face. Katsuki takes vindictive joy in the achievement. Finally…finally the worthless morons are seeing him, truly seeing him and not whatever Bakugō -delusion they’d all cooked up in their heads.

#bnha #mha #boku no academia #my hero academia #bnha fanfic #MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH #Katsuki Bakugō #‘the Sludge Villain incident gone wrong’ aka Izuku dies #graphic descriptions of violence #angst #bakugou swears and gets into fights #coarse language #fanfiction #fanfic #something sad au

[snorlaxlovesme]

Walk Me Home

So I guess I wrote this fic for a SoMa week prompt last year and then didn’t post it??? I found it in my drafts and was really confused what a fully completed one-shot was doing staring back at me lmao

So. Here’s a fic for I think the “2am” prompt. Title a reference to the P!nk song, since I’m pretty sure I spammed it while writing this.

                             ____________________

“Hey. Hey!”

Maka hears Soul’s voice call out from behind her, but she doesn’t turn around. She doesn’t want to talk right now; she wants to leave.

“Jesus, why are you walking so fast? Slow down, fuck’s sake.”

The grit of the sidewalk digs painfully into the heels of her bare feet. It doesn’t slow her down, nor does it stop her. In fact, when she hears Soul’s panting from behind her, she petulantly picks up her speed until his hand is landing on her shoulder and pulling her to a stop. He tugs her around despite her best efforts to keep walking.

“Hey, you wanna tell me what the problem is? Why did you leave the party?” He doesn’t even look mad at her, just concerned, which somehow makes her just feel worse. Soul continues, “I went to go talk to Kid for a few minutes and when I came back everyone said you left. Did something happen?”

Clearly something must have happened. She knows he can see it all over her expression, in the way she bolted away from him. Hell, he can probably feel waves of it coming directly from her soul.  

But she doesn’t want to talk, so she pulls her shoulder away from his grasp and keeps walking, marching towards the direction of home, probably. She’s still a little tipsy, even though she only had a couple drinks at the party. But whoever Kid hires to bartend at the Gallows Mansion has a heavy hand when it comes to mixing drinks. Either her cocktails were stronger than normal or Maka really is the lightweight every assumes she is. She keeps walking despite her protesting feet and the way the world is swaying around her.

“So you’re just not gonna talk to me?” Soul asks, still trailing behind her. She can feel his hand come to rest on her shoulders every now and again, steadying her when she tips a bit too far in one direction, but pulling away once she’s righted herself. Protecting her while also respecting her boundaries. It’s infuriating.

Soul keeps talking to her back. “Was it something it something Black Star said? You know how Star gets when he’s drunk. He’s got no fucking boundaries.”

It’s not Black Star. It’s not anyone specifically. It’s just everyone. It’s everything. It’s nothing. She doesn’t want to explain it, because that would just be another weakness to add to the ever-growing pile.

“I can kick his ass if you want,” Soul keeps trying, knowing full-well that he could never take Black Star in a fight. The pathetic offer almost makes her smile, but she gulps it down and tries not to cry.

Soul circles around in front of her. “Look, you don’t have to tell me, but could you please stop for a sec? You’re not wearing any shoes and your feet are gonna get all fucked up. There could be glass or something.” Maka, being Maka, doesn’t give a damn about potential dangers to herself, and continues marching forward, leaving Soul to roll his eyes and pick up his pace to catch up with her again. She’s trying not to look at him, but she can see the way his eyes widen in his ‘I have an idea’ face, and two seconds later he’s transformed into a scythe in front of her, hovering a few feet off the ground beside her. His wings flap quickly and silently to keep steady beside her.

“Please?” His voice comes his weapon form, tinny and desperate.

Now Maka is the one rolling her eyes. His winged-form only rubs salt in her emotional wounds, but her feet are admittedly in a lot of pain after almost a half mile of walking on cracked concrete. She concedes and throws a leg over his handle. She grabs onto him with both hands, expecting him to whisk her away to their apartment above the buildings of Death City. Soul surprises her by hovering another foot in the air, so her feet don’t drag on the cement, but flying at the same pace she was walking.

The quiet extends before them into the night. The farther they get from the Gallows, the harder it is to hear the booming bass of the music. Soul lets Maka direct them with her soul through the residential neighborhoods and away from crowded streets. She started this walk with the intention of being alone.

But, ten times out of ten she’d rather be with Soul.

She swallows. “Do you care what people think about you?”

On a normal day he’d snark at her for finally deeming him worthy of conversation, but today he’s quiet as he thinks of what response she might be looking for. She can feel he’s trying to pick apart the meaning of this starting question, but eventually just decides to answer honestly.

“Yeah. All the time.”

It’s the truth, Maka can feel in his soul that it is, but she still doesn’t believe it. In the time that Maka has known Soul, he’s grown so much. She’s always admired the way he just lets things roll off his shoulders, not giving a shit what others think about him. Maybe he’s just been faking it, but he does a damn good job playing the Cool Guy he’s always wanted to be as a kid. He makes Maka’s version of the same kind of make-believe feel like child’s play. No one believes in her flimsy brand of confidence.  

“Do you care what people think about us?” she asks.

There’s always been something in the way people talk about the two of them. Soul, the powerful, confident demon weapon that took down Arachne and helped save the world from madness on the moon. Maka, the meister who just managed to hold on for the ride. Maybe that’s not exactly what they say, but it’s implied. In the way other students will look at him with admiration, with appreciation, and then how they look at her, like they’re surprised it was little unstable Maka Albarn who managed to produce a Death Scythe. She knows she’s weak, but do people have to throw it in her face all the time? Like she was the last person they expected to be helpful in the apocalypse?  

Even at a freaking party there are people coming up to Soul and asking him for autographs while Maka stands right next to him. Like somehow they know the exact imbalance of strength between Soul and Maka and they’re disappointed in Maka the same way she is with herself.

Just thinking about it has her unconsciously pulling Soul forward down the street a little faster. She breathes deeply. Just a few more minutes and she’ll be home.

Soul finally speaks, breaking her out of her own internal pity party.  

“No.”

Maka blinks.

No?

“Our partnership is no one’s business but ours. If people have something to say about it, whatever. I only care about one person’s opinion when it comes to our partnership. And that’s you.”

God, it’s such a simple yet complete answer. And he’s totally right, like always. She doesn’t know why she gives a shit what other people think about her and Soul. None of it matters in the end, but God, does Maka wish for once that when she thought of the word “strength” she could picture herself embodying that word instead of never measuring up. Instead of feeling guilty for somehow always thinking she’s holding Soul back.

“You know there’s nothing wrong with you, right?”

Maka’s soul spikes so suddenly in surprise that Soul comes to a halt in the middle of the street.

“I’m serious. I know you wanna be the best meister you can be, but you’re too stuck in your own head to realize how fucked I would be without you as my partner.” He quiets in a way that means he’s gathering his words, and Maka listens with bated breath.  

“You’re the smartest and bravest person I know, okay? And you’re also a reckless moron who pulls some of the craziest shit in battle that I’ve ever seen in my life. It sucks that I have to keep saying this to you, but I’ll keep reminding you until you believe it. The only reason I ever had a prayer of becoming of a Death Scythe was because you’ve been my meister. Stop thinking that you’re not good enough, because you’re better than every asshole at the party. You did something they never could and now never will be able to do.”

Maka closes her eyes for a few heartbeats, allowing this to sink in. Even now, at 2am with the sky pitch dark because of the blackened moon, it’s hard to imagine that she was involved in that fight. She helped save the world and she’s still convinced that she’s somehow not good enough. Maybe Soul’s right, and what they have could only be accomplished with the two of them together. Maybe no one else matters but her and Soul.

“Soul? Transform for me, will you?”

Without hesitation, Soul morphs back into human form, holding her now on piggyback instead of on his weapon form. The shift from being supported by his handle to hanging off his backside is so natural that Maka doesn’t even have to think about it, just adjusts her arms so they’re tighter across his shoulders. She presses her face into the side of his neck in gratitude.

“You always know what to say, you know that?”

Soul snorts and hops a little to scoot her higher up his back. “It’s easy when your soul is practically screaming at me what you’re upset about.” He starts walking again, refusing to put her down because of his stubborn insistence that she’ll hurt her feet. “So. Party sucked for you too, then?”

Now it’s Maka’s turn to snort. All of a sudden the night’s whole emo conclusion feels very overstated. She feels foolish for being so dramatic but remembers that Soul thinks she’s strong even when she’s a drama queen. Depends on her even when she gets caught up in her own head. The reminder calms her soul down considerably.

“Think I drank too much,” she says, nestling closer to his back and laying her arms heavily over his shoulders to remain balanced. “Ox said some dumb shit about me being the weaker partner and it made me sad.”

“Alcohol is a depressant,” Soul says, kind of snooty. He’s repeating what she’s told him on his Moody Drinking nights.  

“Wait a minute,” Soul says. “Did you say Ox? Who the fuck is he to talk about being a weak partner?”

“I thought you said you don’t care what anyone thinks about us.”

“Yeah, but that was before I found out it was fucking Ox Ford who was talking down to you. I could totally take his ass in fight.”

Maka laughs for the first time all night. Soul continues ranting all the way home about how he’s going to beat Ox’s face in the next time he saw him (he won’t) and Maka thinks that maybe real strength is remembering that you always have someone on your side.

#soma #soul x maka #soul eater #soul eater evans #maka albarn #like its not the BEST thing ive ever written but damn kelly you could have at least POSTED IT #se fic #my writing

[ask-fantasy-sanders-sides]

Soooooo~! We heard what Roman thought about the caravan people, what about Virgil? You must have liked some other people than Missy and Jester over there!

(Virgil hums for a minute, thinking back to the travelling troupe he's spent so much time with. Not the kind of people he thought he'd be associating with on the surface, but Remus takes you strange places... He grimaces, but you get the feeling it's just for show.)

(The more he thinks about them, the more fond he sounds, like he's forgetting he has an audience while he muses about the troupe...)

Virgil: Hmm… not much to say, really. Most of them either hated and distrusted me at first, or still do, which is valid. And I’m closer with the kids then some of the adults, since I spent so much time herding them around during shows…

Virgil: Somiza’s alright. Kind, but keeps her distance. She’s good with people, and smarter than she acts… EV’s cool as shit, we understand each other just fine. --Of course I’m fond of them, I wouldn’t have left Missy and Jester with them if I wasn’t! They’re good moms...

Virgil: Tamaris is… fine? We flirt occasionally, but when do I not… He was one of the first to start trusting me besides EV, so that was cool, if misguided of him. Pryce… is pretty much the exact same. Pretty face, trusts way too quickly, annoying, but doable. Vanessa keeps her distance, cause she can tell I’m not very social, which I appreciate. And Jester and Missy are very fond of her, so I can’t hate her. Moira is much the same way -- stays out of my way, I stay out of hers. She got mad when she found out I couldn’t read, wants to teach me. I said no, obviously.

Virgil: Milo and Elias… I don’t talk to them much. Elias is much closer to Remus than me, and Milo took a long time to warm up to all three of us. Honestly, he, EV, and Lorilla might be the only things keeping that group alive… But those two always seem to catch me when I’m trying to avoid sleep. Elias is much more chill about it, he’ll just sit with me and talk, or wait out the longer hours. Milo will try to trick me into sleeping with milk and honey, because he was ‘totally making some for himself anyway’, but he’s a liar and a bastard and I can’t believe I keep falling for that damn trick… I don’t know, something about his whole shit is...calming? He’s what I imagine people mean when they describe surface “dad”s to me.

Virgil: Lorilla earned my respect, for sure. Last to trust me, knows her way around a weapon, hunts and tracks well, tamed a fucking bear. We’re...about as friendly as I let people get. She’s protective of the kids too, and Missy and Jester really like her, so… We’re very alike. And usually that irritates the shit out of me, but she’s not annoying, so it’s fine.

Virgil: Raena had a pretty violent reaction to me at first too, but she had a very good reason: She’s escaped from Luihaun'athar, just like me, and… well, let’s say it’s not too hard to recognize a Blackguard when you see one. It took a bit to convince her I wasn’t out for blood, but we get along fine now. We play Sava sometimes, since she has the board, even if we’re both bat-shit awful at it… Not much to say about Dario. Respects me, keeps his distance. Which is nice, as always. Theta’s still pretty scared of me, but he’s generally nice to the kids, as long as they’re not putting him through the ringer…

Virgil: And there’s a new one in the past few years, Brian. She’s a literal fairy. Like, less-than-a-foot-tall flying dragonfly person. Bri-anne, but spelled dumb, because she’s a fairy and she changes her given name every two minutes based on the funniest one she can come up with at the time. She’s funny; the kind of funny that gets old fast, though Remus swears I’m wrong about that… Supposedly, she was in the troupe years ago, and just left for a bit. I’d say I wish she stayed gone, but I’m scared she’ll materialize and fuck with me for it...

(Virgil smirks slightly at himself, then shakes his head, biting back a smile,)

Virgil: Then there’s the kids. I’ve probably spent the most time just babysitting them, which… I don’t hate doing. They’re good kids, if ridiculously reckless.

Virgil: The twins… Lea is probably the second most energetic, following Missy. Blunt, distrustful, rages against the system and adults, a real fucking punk. She’s fantastic, I adore her. Her sister’s a lot quieter, and we aren’t as close, but she listens to me. Respectful, but fragile… But, she’s always got Lea attached to her hip, so she’s fine for now.

Virgil: Yuuto’s a good kid, Roman’s just dumb. He, Lea, and my two can get into some trouble if they’re left alone together, but they’re just kids expressing themselves. He spends a lot of time with Jester, and I don’t always know a crush when I see one, but he’s a bit obvious... And Cyrus is a sweet kid. When he was little, he seemed to instantly form a crush on any dude he saw. He hit on me too, and Pryce “helped” him, which was a total shitshow… He’s much more chill now, showed real interest in my kind of work. I taught him to pick locks and steal, which everyone else thinks was a massive mistake, but it’s only ever been hilarious from my point of view~

Virgil: Peia’s the youngest -- still a toddler -- and I’m her favorite, obviously, because she has good taste. She freaks Dee and Remus out, which is always funny… I’m fucking soft for that little kid, I’m not even mad about it. EV and Somiza trusted me to watch her while they do the show, and she wouldn’t let me put her down, and she wasn’t even scared of Charlotte? She’s a little fucking badass! --When she catches me sitting down, she tries to sneak up behind me and jump on me. I let her think she’s quiet enough to catch me off guard, because she needs the training... And I am not about to let her down, are you shitting me??

Virgil: And then, there’s Missy and Jester… Well, you know how I feel about them. Little bastards, spawn of satan, ruined my life, I wish them nothing but pain. ...That’s a joke, obviously. I would kill for those kids-- And they’re still kids, goddamnit, I don’t care how big they get. They’ll be eight forever, and you can tell them I said so.

#lets roll #wanderland #please tell me if i need to tag anything else!

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

An Open and Honest Conversation About Our Feelings

Ao3,  MasterPost

Relationships: Moxiety, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it Roceit and Intrulogical.

Warnings: Food mention, all sympathetic sides, swearing, crying, hurt/comfort, excessive fluff and somftness. 

Word Count: 1,779

Virgil woke up at 12:00PM dull every day, because there are no rules in quarantine and fuck you. And due to the fact that all of his fellow sides continued to maintain ‘reasonable’ sleep schedules (nerds), he was almost always the last awake. Today was seemingly no exception, as Virgil trudged down the stairs with a yawn to find his family long done with breakfast.

 Janus was the first to register his presence, curled up in the corner of the sectional with Roman. 

“There’s something breakfast-adjacent left for you in the kitchen,” he informed with a mischievous look at the trait beside him.

“We were working with what we had! I’m sorry I’m not a master chef like Dad.” Roman argued, prompting Logan to peek his head in from the kitchen. 

“The more you call Patton that, the more I worry that it’s some kind of complex.”

He ducked into the other room before Roman could effectively throw a pillow at him. 

“Remus is a terrible influence on you!” 

There was a shrill laugh from the kitchen. 

“Damn right I am!”

Virgil shook his head at the interaction and contemplated going right back to bed. There was something bugging him, though. 

“So where is Pat?”

“He wasn’t here when we came down. We decided to let him sleep in. Totally not like he needs it,” Janus said idly. 

That on it’s own would be fine (he really did need a day off), but Patton was asleep later than Virgil? At the very least it was weird. But nobody else seemed particularly concerned about the side, and Anxiety wasn’t always the best judge of what was and was not worth freaking out over. He pushed it out of mind and went to find something to eat. Patton was probably fine. Probably. 

It was 3:00pm and things were not fine. No one had seen a trace of Patton all day. After surmising that all of the idiots Virgil inhabited a brain space with weren’t correctly worried, he took matters into his own hands. He glared at his best friend’s door for a good time before he finally caved and knocked, hoping for nonchalance (how do you knock nonchalantly? Probably not like that, dude). After all, maybe Patton really had just overslept. For eight hours. Yeah. 

There was a slight gasp from behind the door. Virgil felt his stomach drop and listened closely for a response. 

“Who is it?” Morality’s voice was barely audible, a rasping and raw croak. He very clearly hadn’t been getting any sleep, let alone extra. Virgil placed his hand on the door.

“It’s- it’s me.” 

No response.

“Can I come in?”

There was a beat, and then the lock clicked open. Anxiety took a steadying breath before entering Morality’s room, carefully closing the entryway behind him. His eyes widened at the scene before him.

Patton was laying on top of the covers in his bed. His eyes were puffy and red-rimmed, not to mention so unfocused that you’d think that nobody was home behind them. Tears tracked down his face and turned his complexion worryingly red, a contrast to the gray of his cat sweater. 

“...Pat?” Virgil whispered. Patton tilted his head and attempted to smile at him, which only served to be more heart-wrenching to see than the dull upset that previously encompassed his expression.

“Hey, Virge. What’s up?”

Virgil snorted, but there was no humor in the sound. 

“That’s what I wanna know,” he sat on the edge of the bed, maintaining a respectful distance, “C’mon, you can talk to me.”

“...Can I?”

The question was nearly silent, but Anxiety couldn’t have missed it in a thunderstorm. The trait blinked in a mix of concern and confusion.

“Uh, yeah? I mean, I won’t make you, but you’re always trying to talk me down when I get upset, or whatever. That’s what friends are for, right?”

Patton pushed himself up, leaning back against his pillows.  When he looked at Virgil again, he didn’t pretend to smile. 

“You don’t have to do this.”

“What?”

“I- I know that I’ve been a lot lately. I know you need space right now, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to be here for me. I’ll be okay, it’s just one of those days- you know?” 

Virgil’s stomach sank as realization dawned on him. 

“What are you talking about?” he needed to hear it. 

“You- well- you kinda… snap at me? Whatever I say always seems to be… the wrong thing to say. I’m sure you have a reason for being upset with me, though! And you don’t have to tell me what it is, either,” Patton kept his eyes down as he spoke, “It’s fine, really!”

Anxiety didn’t know what to say. Or maybe he didn’t know what not to say, because there was so much that he should be saying. He could see his friend- his best friend, always there for him even when it was excessive- trying not to cry again. It hurt to look at, it was heartbreaking to look at in a way it really shouldn’t have been. 

His mind flashed with all the times he’d berated Patton, or shut him down, or just brushed him off- and wasn’t not being listened to exactly what made him treat Morality worse in the first place? How hadn’t he noticed before?

Oh god, Virgil had been quiet too long and he still had no clue what to say. This was why talking about emotions wasn’t in his department!

Virgil twisted his fingers in his sleeve as an idea formed. He inched a little closer to Patton, trying to will away the nervousness and regret that creeped in him so he could focus. Patton watched him from the corner of his eye as Anxiety took his hand and entwined their fingers. 

The moral trait looked up at him with scores of conflicting emotions flitting across his face. Virgil outstretched his other arm, an offering that he rarely gave to anyone and one he almost never gave to anybody other than Patton. 

The side threw himself into Virgil’s arms without hesitation, hiding his face in the fabric of his hoodie. Virgil wrapped his arms around Morality’s shaking shoulders and held him close.

“I didn’t-” his voice cracked. Shit, try again.

“You’re amazing, Pat. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t mad at you, like, not really.”

Patton’s head was resting on his collarbone. He took deep, shuddering breaths as his shaking abated. Virgil continued.

“This is all my fault, I should have just talked to you-”

Patton shook his head sharply.

“Me feeling bad wasn’t ‘cuz of you. It happens. And you did talk to me about what was wrong, I’m the one that didn’t listen-”

“I didn’t listen either, I just brushed you off! I made you feel like I didn’t want to be around you!”

“That’s exactly what I did to you! T-The first part.”

“It’s different-”

Patton cut him off with laughter, his eyes crinkling up at the edges. Virgil was only surprised for a moment before he cracked up too, letting the situation really sink in. How were they both so dumb?

A few times over they stopped, looked at each other, had another bout of giggles, and had to calm down again. Patton had gradually moved so that he was sat on Virgil’s lap, which certainly didn’t help alleviate the giddiness in his chest. 

“I’m really bad at this,” Anxiety said, sliding his arms down to hold around Morality’s waist.

“At what?” 

“Don’t know. Talking about stuff.”

“Me too. Don’t tell anybody though, I have a reputation.” 

Virgil gave another laugh and rested his chin on Patton’s head. 

They breathed.

“I’m tired, Vee.” 

“Same.”

“No, I meant... emotionally.”

“I know what you meant, Pat.”

Without another word, Patton pulled the both of them down to lie on the bed. He kicked his feet under his comforter and muttered that ‘a nap might help anyway’, and ‘would you stay? Please?’, and there wasn’t a chance that Anxiety could say no to that if he wanted to (which he did not). 

They exchanged some more whispered conversation while wrapping themselves with blankets. As the minutes passed, Virgil couldn’t help focusing on the way his friend’s arms tightened around his waist, or the way he laughed into his shoulder and pressed somehow closer. Virgil’s heart picked up- he didn’t like physical contact on the best of days, and this was more than he could ever remember enduring. The strange thing this time was that he wasn’t uncomfortable with it, no, he felt safe and warm and cared for and so so so-

Oh, fuck. 

“-irgil? Virgil?” 

“Sorry- yeah?”

Morality pulled back a bit. Virgil hoped to God that he wouldn’t dwell on the zoning out. Thankfully, he seemed to have something else on his mind.

“Thank you. For everything. This is just what I needed.” 

Patton was watching him with just an impossibly sweet expression. Virgil felt a spike of something- bravery, stupidity, recklessness, whatever you wanted to call it- in his chest. He couldn’t not say those three little words, not for another second. 

“I love you.”

Patton smiled so wide it looked painful, laughing giddily.

“I love you, too!”

“No,” immediately his fear was back tenfold and this was an awful idea, “I- I meant like, ro-”

“I know what you meant, Virge,” Patton said softly, looking amused and oh-so smitten. Virgil swallowed, pressing their foreheads together. His face was on fire and his chest hurt and his throat was dry but he couldn’t help smiling back at his friend- best friend- boyfriend?- his Patton.

The Heart tilted his head forwards a bit, bumping their noses together.

“Can I…?”

Virgil nodded quickly, accidentally shifting the trait’s glasses. Patton giggled, removing them and placing them on the bedside table before bringing his hands up to cup Virgil’s face and resuming their position. Gently- achingly gently- he pressed their lips together. Anxiety felt himself melt. The kiss was soft and sweet and cautious; it felt hours long and too short at the same time. When they broke apart, Patton looked at him like he’d hung the stars in the sky (Virgil was sure that his expression was much the same, but he wasn’t particularly worried about his reputation at that moment). 

“Thanks,” Patton said once more, laying his head back down on Virgil’s chest. The trait grasped for some response that could possibly articulate all that he was feeling, but by the time he opened his mouth, Morality was already asleep. With an amused huff, he followed suit and got some much needed rest.

@shrimp-crockpot

#my writing #fanfic #fanfiction #sanders sides #ts #ts fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #moxiety #moxiety fanfiction #background roceit #background intruality #and by background i mean they are here for two sentences and barely hinted at #fluff #tooth rotting fluff #tw cursing #tw self-deprication #but like mild as hell #mentions of depression #i mean kinda i dont really know how else to describe what pattons got #virgil #ts virgil #virgil sanders #patton #ts patton #patton sanders #fuck so many different variations of character tags hhhhhhthhrhrh #hurt/comfort

[drunklander]

Drunj!Der Yells About Outlander

Thoughts on Ep. 502

Watched this episode after winning Wynonna Earp trivia (fuck yeah, The Shit Tickets!) at a bar, put on by a queer af podcast, followed by going to see a queer af movie, and was all ready to get my Beauchamp fix... And it was like oh here’s a taste and a hint that we’re gonna end up in a story line similar to what we’ve already done multiple times, but now on to the menfolk.

For real though, this episode was like an OL greatest hits clip show. It had all the stuff we’ve seen before. A time traveler who wants to go home? Check. Rape PTSD? Check. A man being a dad to a kid who isn’t/might not be his? Check. That same man being the absolute worst? Check. Claire being reckless with future medicine? Check. Townsfolk questioning Claire’s medical knowledge in favor of the local Man of Importance? Check. Jamie trying to be on both sides at once? Check. A villain who seemed to have died the previous season and should have fucking stayed dead? Check.

We’ve literally seen all of this stuff before.

For a show that spent the first part of season two claiming to be a political drama and then last season claiming that they “weren’t political” I see we’re back to just leaning hard into politics that have direct parallels today.

No fucks left to give about the system Murtz is kind of my favorite Murtz. Like this dude spent his whole life living by a code and an oath and was fucked over by the system so many fucking times that he’s ready to just burn it all down. Curious to see how they walk the domestic terrorist vs. freedom fighter line with him for the rest of the season.

Got all excited about the bread title card because yay medicinal mold, but of course, the lead character was relegated to the B story.

Old timey medicine baffles me. Like the fact that bleeding someone was like a catchall remedy boggles the mind.

I feel rull bad for Mrs. Whoeverthefuck though. She tried.

Also, shit like this makes me be like, yo Claire, you sure you wanna stay here? Jamie’s really not all that and a bag of chips. But you do you, boo.

Speaking of Jamie, his hair looks really good. A thousand fruit baskets to the new wig person.

Lulz at Knox thinking the Gathering was about being loyal to king and country. Dummy.

Srsly though, Murtz Valmurtz is really getting under their skin. Is he like the *only* Regulator leader?

The convo between Knox and Jamie is literally as relevant today as it is in the 1770s. But yeah, the show IsN’t PoLiTiCaL.

The fact that fuckers think those at the bottom should be happy with their lot because “lol it could be worse” need to be punched in the face and taken out of power. Stat.

Also any time someone in power talks about civility as a reason not to rise up against injustice, I want to punch them. Because they deserve it.

I want to punch a lot of things.

This whole episode is very Les Mis, tbh.

Literalol at Claire covering dead guy’s face and not his body cavity before Bree comes in.

Aw Bree, why you gotta be a buzzkill? We were cheated of badass Doctor!Claire in S3. Let us have this.

Also, yeah, Claire, Bree’s fucking right. Which you’d think you’d know by now what with alL THE FUCKING TIMES YOU’VE BEEN CALLED A WITCH. AND NOW YOU’RE UPPING YOUR GAME TO LIKE NECROMANCY?!

Also the more she says no one will find out the more annoying it is because *clearly* someone *is* gonna find out and we’re gonna be back on the “she’s a witch!” “I’m not a witch!” “you literally have a dead guy in your closet!” merry-go-round again.

Today in most on-the-nose shots ever: How convenient that Marsali just happens to be doing some butchering right there, right then.

Petition for the show to go full Shondaland and just turn into a backwoods medical drama with Claire and Marsali, and all the others (cough the men cough) can fuck on off.

Tarring and feathering is like the old timey version of #AlwaysPunchAFascist but dialed to 11.

Oh the baggage behind Jamie saying redcoat man will someday wear his scars with honor that none of these fuckers know about...

Ok so clearly the English know that Claire’s a doctor so whenever shit hits the witchy dead dude fan, can we please have a quick resolution and not that dumb af “Claire goes to jail and of course her cellmate is a lesbian because Diana sucks at writing queer characters” nonsense?

Man Jamie is *not* subtle with this convo at the jail. Like Knox is right there and he’s just like hey buddies, I have people and we’re Scottish and y’know how we feel about protecting people vs. obeying the English.

I AM SPARTACUS FITZGIBBONS!

Aaand, naturally, the fuckwit preaching civility is the one to kill a man in cold blood. Rise up, motherfuckers. Rise up.

THANK FUCK ROGER IS A TERRIBLE SHOT BECAUSE IF THAT SQUIRREL DIED I WOULD LEGIT QUIT THE SHOW. RUN AWAY AND BE FREEEEEE YOU PRECIOUS LIL WILDERNESS FLOOFER!

Roger is, and I cannot stress this enough, the fucking worst.

He’s like look how shitty I am at being a soldier but then bitches about having to try to learn. And then he bitches about how dumb it is to shoot at squirrels as if being able to hit a squirrel wouldn’t make hitting a much larger thing, like a man who is shooting back at you, that much easier. And also, how the fuck does he think they get meat to eat? Shooting it, you twatwaffle.

And he’s like so fucking butthurt about being left behind. Like no shit, asshat. You’re bad at being in the past and have made no real effort and you whine a lot and are generally the worst. Of *course* you were left behind. Stop being emo about it and maybe actually try.

“He doesn’t respect me, Bree.” Yeah, no shit. Because you’ve done LITERALLY NOTHING to earn his respect. WHY ARE YOU SO TERRIBLE IT’S LIKE THEY’RE INTENTIONALLY TRYING TO MAKE HIM SUCK.

He also is like butthurt that his wife is a better shot than him when she gets the turkey he misses. How the fuck are we supposed to ship this. Ugh.

#BreeDeservesBetter

Oh Bree, sweetie, Jem won’t get hit by a car, but there are like eleventy million ways to die in the past. Just stick with the “you want to stay with your family” stuff.

Roger clearly doesn’t want to stay and is gonna pull a Fred and make Bree feel bad about wanting to all season, isn’t he. Fahkin’ doucherocket.

“I want to go but I’ll stay for you and look how magnanimous I am as I whine about it and make no effort to acclimate to the time.” Take your martyr card and shove it, Rog.

Shorter Jamie Fraser: “If you stand for nothing, Knox, what’ll you fall for?”

I’m already over Roger singing all the time tbh. Mostly because it reminds me that soon he won’t be able to do that anymore and we’re gonna be subjected to like half a season of him being more insufferable than he already is.

Wait, was Joan already born last episode? Or was there another time jump? Is Marsali preggers with baby #3? I lost track.

I love this scene between Claire and Marsali with my whole heart. Marsali especially.

CAN WE PLEASE JUST HAVE A WHOLE SHOW OF THESE TWO BEING ALL BADASS AND DOCTORY TOGETHER!?

Although, quick question, how fucking long is Claire planning to keep that un-embalmed body lying around in an un-refrigerated surgery/root cellar? Just curious...

Because you know someone’s gonna find it eventually and that’s gonna be a whole to do and I really need to stop being preemptively annoyed at plot lines that haven’t actually happened yet.

And with all this talk of plowshares and swords, I really am going to be singing Les Mis for days...

How long have these biddies been living on the Ridge? The fucking Leoch folks spent like a minute with Claire before they were like yep, she knows what’s up. These folks have apparently been here for months and are like loool, pass. They live in the fucking woods. You’d think they’d be more open to Claire’s brand of medicine.

Omg are they like the accidental antivaxxers of the Ridge?

#VaccinateYourFuckingKids

I mean, Bree, I think there’s some difference between Claire pretending to be a dude doc and telling folks to wash their hands and Otter Tooth.

Season 2 Claire and Otter Tooth on the other hand...

Ok so Jamie needs more men so that means next week is AHS: Beardsley Farm and then maybe (hopefully) instead of being like lol jk you can all go home, it actually goes right into the battle thing. Still not sure if they’re gonna do Roger getting hanged as the mid-season big thingy and then do the Bonnet nonsense in the back half or keep trying to do both of those at once.

Hey, Roger, pro-tip, next time you see Morag MacKenzie, maybe don’t fuCKING MAKE OUT WITH HER YOU FUCKING DUMBASS.

Claire’s totally right about how they should go back. Honestly, they should. But instead of talking with her like Claire is now with Roger, he’s just being all moody about how he’s bad at the past and wants to go back. You’re shooting yourself in the foot, broski.

Oh hey Husband the Quaker. And is that a fellow Quaker named Hunter with him? Are we gonna get Denny and Rachel this season?! Please and thank you that’d be great, I love them.

Murtz talking to his squad is full on Enjolras being like don’t worry fam, Marius will stand and fight with us. His place is there, he’ll fight with you.

The two very different but very similar ways Murtz and Jamie approach being Laird of their squads is fun to explore.

Bree lecturing Claire about changing the future by saving a few backwater hicks like Claire didn’t spend years trying to fucking change all of Scottish history is a bit rich. Like writers, we get it, you’re trying to be like oh snap, wait for the consequences of this bread!science! But like come the fuck on. We sat through all of season two.

“You’re a good dad, you know that?” Oh man, I’m getting that déjà vu about a shitty man getting kudos for being a good dad to a kid as if that negates all of his shittiness.

Oh hey, Bonnet’s back. Clearly we couldn’t have just let him die last season. Gotta drag shit on for longer than it has to. This is the [Outlander] Way.

If they were gonna keep him around as a villain, they shouldn’t have (in addition to all the other reasons) included him raping Bree. Jamie, Murtagh and Bonnet all making choices within and outside of the law to various degrees in order to make their living in the Colonies would be a really interesting contrast. But nope, gotta just go all in. BeCaUsE tHe BoOk.

Also I hate with the passion of a thousand fiery suns the Jemmy’s paternity stuff. Le sigh.

Remember in season one when the show was about Claire and she was in episodes for longer than 10 minutes?

I miss Claire.

#* #outlander starz #outlander 5x02 #drunj!der yells about outlander

[viciousgracearc]

LYANNA STARK AS THE KNIGHT OF THE LAUGHING TREE + RHAEGAR & THE PROPHECY

REPOST FROM HERE. I tend to deviate from the popular fan theory and show “plot-twist” that Rhaegar and Lyanna were in love and that she eloped with him, thus igniting Robert's Rebellion. I also do not subscribe to the show’s BS saying Robert’s Rebellion was founded on a “lie” because Robert's Rebellion was founded on many things, not just Lyanna’s disappearance, but also the murder of Rickard and Brandon Stark (and company) and the call of Aerys for Jon Arryn to break guest right traditions and bring him Robert and Eddard's heads. These things are not lies and played fundamental roles in fueling the rebellion, which was initially started by Jon Arryn rousing The Vale into revolt (it was only ever called Robert’s Rebellion once the rebellion itself was already in full-swing or nearing its conclusion).

Anyway, this headcanon is essentially riding the back of the theory that Lyanna Stark was the Knight of the Laughing Tree. Not only did her initial defense of Howland Reed foreshadow this theory, but it also made the most sense based on what we know of the knight themself.  Brandon was too muscular to be the knight, Eddard could not possibly be the knight for the same reason,  and Benjen was too young. The knight could only be a Stark, and therefore could only be Lyanna. There are a lot of other reasons why this headcanon makes the most sense  (i.e. it thematically makes for a stronger story) but that’s a discussion for another time.

Piggybacking off of this, we also know that The World of Ice and Fire went more in-depth with the events at Harrenhal than the five main books of the series. In TWOIAF we found out that the knight was hunted down after he disappeared, and it was Rhaegar Targaryen who found the knight’s infamous shield and armor hanging from a tree.  We also found out that the mad king took the appearance of the knight as a slight to his rule, and he was very paranoid and angry, or as the kids would say these days… triggered:

King Aerys II was not a man to take any joy in mysteries, however. His Grace became convinced that the tree on the mystery knight’s shield was laughing at him […] he commanded his own knights to defeat the Knight of the Laughing Tree when the jousts resumed the next morning, so that he might be unmasked and his perfidy exposed for all to see. But the mystery knight vanished during the night, never to be seen again. This too the king took ill, certain that someone close to him had given warning to “this traitor who will not show his face.” ( Source: The World of Ice and Fire )

So how does all of this fit into this theory? For years, people have been speculating Lyanna eloped with a married man, that she was not kidnapped and she went willingly 1.) because she was in love with Rhaegar (please stop) and/or 2.) because she wanted to escape her betrothal to Robert Baratheon. And sure, we can say that she was not kidnapped. I, for one, believe that she went willingly but not for the reasons people think. The question really is: what if she did not elope with anybody? WHAT IF IT WAS A RESCUE?

Please note that this headcanon is heavily inspired by this WordPress post by ladygwynhyfvar + some additions and speculations from myself and other sources (asoiafuniversity, various forums and subreddits).

At the time of the tourney at Harrenal (281 AC), King Aerys II Targaryen was already displaying alarming signs of mental instability, so much so that his son staged the very same tourney to gather all the respectable lords from the great houses to convene and talk about a possible coup d’etat. This didn’t work due to the King’s paranoia, which only went to prove how dangerously close to falling off the deep-end he was. And going by his reaction about the KOTLT, it’s not far-fetched to assume that he hyper-fixated on the knight even after the tourney was over and considered them a threat to his reign or an agent of an enemy used to mock his rule. Aerys II could have used all his available resources to figure out who the knight was, including Varys’ spies, though I think what eventually gave it away in the end were the actions of Rhaegar himself (upon inspection of the events at Harrenhal ex-post facto).

For reasons unknown at the time, Rhaegar crowned Lyanna his Queen of Love and Beauty by the tourney’s end, offending many great lords and ladies in the process (a dumb political move, considering these were the same lords and ladies he’s persuading to support him overthrow his father). What could be the reason behind this? There are a lot of theories, including Rhaegar professing romantic interest towards Lyanna at the cost of Elia Martell’s honor, but the only logical explanation would be that Rhaegar knew Lyanna masqueraded as the Knight of the Laughing Tree. The blue flowers he laid on her lap were not signs of attraction but perhaps admiration, and an acknowledgment of some sort, because her undefeated streak on the joust went unacknowledged by virtue of her disguise. He could essentially be telling Lyanna: Here, you deserve this victory, too. And fair enough, she did. However, this very same action, though noble in its intention, caused quite a scandal. It could have very well lead to Aerys II figuring out that it was Lyanna who donned on the shield of the laughing Weirwood tree and the mismatched armor (courtesy of Benjen’s scrounging). It’s very much possible that Aerys II was unwilling to let this imagined slight go unpunished, and that he could have ordered Lyanna Stark’s arrest while she was on her way to Riverrun to attend Cat and Brandon’s wedding. Coincidentally, this would put her in Rhaegar’s path, as we learned from TWOIAF:

With the coming of the new year, the crown prince had taken to the road with half a dozen of his closest friends and confidants, on a journey that would ultimately lead him back to the riverlands, not ten leagues from Harrenhal… where Rhaegar would once again come face-to-face with Lyanna Stark of Winterfell, and with her light a fire that would consume his house and kin and all those he loved—and half the realm besides.

Any gold cloaks who could have been scouring the Riverlands looking for Lyanna Stark could have run in on the same group, and once Rhaegar had heard about Lyanna’s pending arrest  (no doubt to face the  “king’s justice”  which to Aerys II was literally synonymous to being burned alive), he could have taken the initiative of spiriting Lyanna away from harm and into the relative safety of the Red Mountains of Dorne. But wait, you may wonder: What does Rhaegar get from all of this? Why would he rescue Lyanna Stark if they weren’t “in love” as the people say? It’s pretty simple. He gets the third head of his dragon, considering that months prior, his wife almost died birthing his second child and was possibly too physically spent for a third.  

Remember that Rhaegar was obsessed with The Song of Ice and Fire, and the appeal of Lyanna Stark, who could essentially be ice embodied, might have been too great a temptation for the prophecy-consumed prince to resist. There’s also the possibility that Lyanna was a greenseer which I wrote about here, meaning that she was also aware of the prophecy and went with Rhaegar to help him fulfill it. (A lot of factors are at play here, not just Lyanna’s ability to have green dreams but her run in with the greenseer wildling and the words of the Ghost of High Heart, who she and Rhaegar met with after he’d rescued her, based on my headcanon.)

In any case, Lyanna did not go with Rhaegar because she was “in love” with him. Remember that Lyanna Stark was the same girl who said “Love is sweet,  dearest Ned. But it cannot change a man’s nature.” She disliked the prospect of infidelity and thus would never encourage, tolerate, or participate in such an act at the expense of another woman. Additionally, Lyanna cared enough about the Stark name to defend a Stark bannerman. Not a direct family member, just a bannerman, and she was willing to throw down for him. What makes anyone think she will risk her entire family to run away with a man? Even if he was Targaryen or a prince? What makes anyone think she would do anything to endanger or dishonor her family in that way?  

Severing the engagement with Robert would be something that she would want, there is no denying that (not just because she disliked being betrothed to him, but because she disliked being betrothed at all). She could have wanted to run away on her own, but to run away with a married prince? I don’t think so. The main rationale people use to prop up this theory was to paint Lyanna as a selfish character. But there was never any indication that Lyanna Stark was the selfish type, that she would risk her family’s honor life to get her way, or that she would do something so blatantly stupid (under no disguise) and would not be able to foresee the possible ramifications of her actions. Lyanna is reckless, yes, but she’s not dumb. She’s romantic and idealistic, but she’s also painted to have a strong moral and compass to possess some forethought, things people often overlook or deliberately forget so they could either shit on her character or sail their ships.

Following the greenseer theory, it’s also entirely possible that Lyanna had no knowledge of Rickard and Brandon's fates until Gerold Hightower delivered the news when he asked Rhaegar to go back to King’s Landing (an order that came from his father), right after the Battle of the Bells. Around that time, Lyanna was already pregnant. She would have wanted to go home after finding out, but she would have been forbidden to leave. This was the only time she was openly hostile towards Rhaegar, and he parted with her while she had bitter thoughts of him.

All things considered, I would like to reiterate that Rhaegar and Lyanna were not  “in love”. They were not secret lovers who annulled a legitimate marriage to get their way, the rest of the realm be damned. Lyanna felt extremely guilty that the prophecy required physical infidelity on the part of Rhaegar, but whatever “intimacy” they shared,  they did so out of a sense of duty, not lust or love. Rhaegar remained very much in love with Elia Martell until he left for King’s Landing, never to return to the Tower of Joy again. And Lyanna remained dedicated to seeing through her part in the prophecy, which she believed would ultimately result in her own death.

#* ic. / headcanons #headcanon: lyanna stark #personals do not interact

[lloftvlly]

MysMe Characters in a Zombie Apocalypse Headcanons

Here I go again. I like zombie moves/shows and mysme so I figured I wanna combine them. 

All the headcanons under the cut because this became long! 

Yoosung

Scared boy ™

Yet shows strength when he has to protect you

Cries as he runs away from zombies

Also cries and/or gags when he sees the gory stuff

Builds contraptions to keep zombies out of your camp / hide-out

Which never rly work... but it’s the thought that counts

Always compares every situation to video games he played 

And can sometimes even come up with useful plans due to his experience with post apocalypse setting video games

But whines a lot about how “this is way harder than it looked like in xx game”

Ready to die for you and thus ends up doing unnecessary dangerous stuff, so the group has to often stop him to do the dumb thing.

“I’m not a child anymore I WANT to protect MC TOO!”

Weapon of choice: a sword like his favorite video game character even if he’s clumsy in using it. So he ends up reaching for a simple gun when he finds himself in a dire situation. 

Knows recipes of post apocalypse type foods and cooks for the group.

If you’re bitten by a zombie he falls into complete denial and firmly believes you won’t turn because he can’t accept you leaving him like that. 

Jaehee

You didn’t expect it but she suddenly turns into a very capable apocalypse warrior

When she doesn’t kick ass, she researches about the outbreak and comes up with theories to potentially one day find a cure

Keeps the group organized even in chaotic times

Always able to come up with plans when the group finds itself in dangerous situations

Call herself your sidekick but it feels more like you’re her sidekick

Doesn’t trust any new people at all, if someone wants to join your group they have to get through Jaehee first (and most times don’t manage to do that.) 

Scavengers from outside groups always underestimate her and then end up getting their ass kicked. 

Keeps an organized list of how many zombies and how many people (in self defense) she has killed. She feels guilty for the people side of the list, even if it was in self defense every time. 

Makes you feel the most safe when you are on errand runs together.

She sees and hears EVERYTHING so no zombies or people can approach you unnoticed. She’s just always really alert.

Weapon of choice: her own martial arts skills and if necessary uses a machete to assist her.

Always tired, yet always on top of her game when the situation requires it. 

If you’re bitten she wants to make the last moments for you as comfortable as humanly possible, while she closely stays by your side. She’ll act tough to not show her own pain and will not show you her tears because she wants you to see her strong in your last moments to make you feel at peace with leaving her behind. 

Jumin

Leader of the group even though he never signed up for this

The group just suddenly decided he would be the most level headed for that position and for Jumin it would be too much trouble to decline

Negotiates with other groups you meet on the road and often gets some good trades for supplies done

Surprisingly is a good fighter when he has to put down a zombie or two

Really knows how to shoot a gun and land a head shot after the other for some reason ( he probably had private shooting classes before the apocalypse for fun) 

Sighs yet composed when blood gets on his fresh white shirt

Where does he get all these clean white shirts from? 

Way too clean for someone who lives in a world that ended.

If he has to kill other people who seem to be a danger to your group he will do so without hesitation and zero regret, they had it coming. 

Weapon of choice: a simple yet powerful handgun

Sometimes makes questionable choices and tries to control the group too much to keep track of everyone. 

He means it well for everyone’s safety but it can be too much.

But when you tell him he does things wrong he gets soft and is willing to listen to you when you advice him on doing things differently.

This is making you somewhat of the right hand of the leader. 

If you’re bitten he gets too emotional about it to asses the situation and you end up being the one comforting him because he loses his fucking mind. 

Zen

Looks bomb even after 5 days on the road without a shower

Still somehow manages to hold a somewhat proper meal plan

And gets enough sleep cos “his skin needs it”

Protects you always! And never lets you out of sight if he can avoid it.

Gets way too comfortable with shady strangers you meet on the road

But if someone of these strangers becomes a danger to you, doesn’t think twice before cutting their throat

On supply runs he brings back shampoo, beer and magazines instead of things like canned food and water

He avoids fighting whenever he can to keep his hands clean, but if he has to do it, he’s very capable and smooth

Weapon of choice: a katana 

Looks like a beautiful warrior when he fights

His long hair gets in the way sometimes and can cause zombies grabbing at it but he WON’T cut it EVER. Sacrifices are to be made in the name of beauty. 

The members of your group all somehow rely on Zen for emotional support in rough times because he knows just the things to say to make everyone feel better and never stops being positive even after the world was literally ending.  

Nothing seen of this positivity however, when it’s about Jumin. 

Yes, he is not okay with Jumin being the leader but also doesn’t do anything about it, even if it causes him to nag sometimes.

If you’re bitten he will blame himself forever for not protecting you better and go on a rampage to kill every zombie within a 10 mile radius to let out his frustration. One of them hurt you, so all of them must die. 

Seven

Runner of the group, meaning he does most of the supply runs, goes out to clear roads and check locations and safety thereof 

Somehow became always that guy of the group everyone looks at when they discuss about needing a member to do something that’s ridiculously reckless. Because “its Seven, he’ll manage.”

And will do everything the group asks from him, because what does he have to lose?

Most reckless of the bunch but also luckiest of the bunch, always gets away completely unharmed no matter what dumb risky thing he does. 

Still you worry about him a lot for his lack of self-preservation, but don’t tell him you do or he’ll get mad at you. 

Boy knows all the little secret pathways, hideouts and escape routes.

Also comes up with clever inventions he can make out of random junk he finds. It really helps out the group

Zombie puns all day everyday “ Zombodie had to do it.”  “That’s a no-brainer” “You undead all your good work” “Don’t outbreak my heart.” 

Tries to avoid killing or fighting off zombies to save his energy for other things. He’s more into being stealthy when he has to get shit done. 

But when he has to, he will be pretty good in getting rid of a handful zombies.. :

Weapon of choice: a wooden baseball bat with nails sticking out of it.

He likes it, it makes him look badass

Tries hard to avoid getting emotionally attached to you or anyone in the group because you all could die at any moment and there’s no point.

But slips into caring too much about you and the group anyway 

If you’re bitten he will have an emotional break first but then quickly start to think of ways to save you, no matter how. And if he has to chop off the infected body part to see if it works he will do so. 

Saeran [ Unknown ]

Not part of your group but always knows where you all are and what you are doing.

Instead belongs to this other surviving group that ordered him to keep an eye on yours.

Comes out of nowhere when you’re in a situation where you can’t defend yourself from a group of zombies to save your ass.

But will be gone again before you can even thank him. He only did it because he needs you alive anyway.

At least that’s what he tells himself. Although he starts caring for you for some reason. 

And really wants to bring you back to join his own group instead of sticking with the RFA.

You get very interested in this masked stranger but your questions remain unanswered because he keeps his distance to continue to watch from afar. 

Casually uses zombie blood, skin and guts to camouflage himself when he has to walk through herds of them. 

He is a skilled assassin who was trained to get the job done.

Weapon of choice: a simple hand knife in close range and a full-on automatic rifle for when it’s about killing many zombies at once.

Will use either of the weapons not only on zombies but on other humans, with the same lack of hesitation, if they piss him off.

Biggest kill count of them all. 

If you’re bitten he won’t even think twice before grabbing a sharp tool to chop off your infected body part if it’s in a location that can be removed. If it’s not he might wait for you to turn and keep you as a zombie pet. 

V

The original leader of the group who mysteriously vanished about 10 days into the outbreak.

It’s because he’s been infiltrating the other mysterious group to gain information on them just to find out his ex is the leader of this other group.

Thus is stuck between two groups and because of that became a solo-surviver without really a group to belong to.

Elegant fighter. Will knock down 5 zombies gracefully without a single drop of sweat.

Sometimes picks up helpless stranded survivors on the streets and allows them to travel with him and protect them until he finds them a save community to join.

Weapon of choice: a makeshift wooden spear with a blunt end for humans and a pointy end for zombies.

Pacifist who will never kill another human, even if they tried to kill him first.

But never hesitates even a second before killing a zombie.

Probably saved your ass from the distance a few times without you knowing.

Leaves water and food on your hideout doorstep in secret when he knows your group is low on supplies because he never stops taking care of all of you from the shadows. 

If you’re bitten he will be by your side and do everything in his power to make your last moments comfortable. Unable to end your pain while you’re still alive and yourself, he will wait for you to turn before he can eventually kill you. 

Rika

Leader of this other group and still goes by the name savior.

Her group has a questionable pyramid scheme: They are basically a apocalyptic cult who believes that this end of the world is a sign for them to build their new society.

Somehow mastered to build the most powerful survival group in a safe locations with strong walls.

Is interested to bring in people of your group if they are useful to her.

Especially interested in Seven, since he got the brains she could need to further build up her own little society behind her walls.

And will sacrifice everything for her cause, especially the lives of people working for her.

Uses force to make people stay and work for her. Will kill her own “believers” and turn them into zombies if they astray from the beliefs she forced onto them, then have them in cages within their walls to show them off to the other members her community as an example of what happens when you go against the grain. 

Especially uses Saeran as her most active tool in whatever mission she plans.  

Weapon of choice: Her charm and manipulation tactics.  

Legit thinks life after the outbreak is better than before and the apocalypse is somehow a gateway to paradise. 

If you get bitten she locks you up to see the process of a human turning as a sort of experiment. 

#mysme #mystic messenger #jumin han #saeyoung choi #saeran choi #jaehee kang #v #yoosung kim #i just found this in my drafts #i wrote this like a year ago and never posted it uhm #this is heavily inspired by twd #idk is this on bad taste to post about apocalypses now wth everything... e-e #headcanon #i kinda wanna get back into just writing stupid headcanons again #hc

[claudiafernandez96]

reckless with a capital R pt. 1 || claudia & cillian

discord thread featuring; claudia & @cilliankelly

when: december 20th, late night

mentions: @judetaylorhq @robinscnfm

where: east kingsboro

description: cillian and claudia get fucked up, steal a car then crash it

trigger warnings: yeah a lot. drug use, alcohol, DWI, theft, blood, injuries

Cillian

things were getting a bit too overwhelming for cillian. a lot was changing in a very short amount of time and every time he thought about the future he began to panic, his chest so tight with anxiety it was difficult to breathe. he needed to do something dumb. something really dumb. and who did he know that was ALWAYS down to do some really dumb shit? claudia. they were both already absolutely fucked up. cillian didn't remember the last thing he was ever this drunk. physically could not remember. everything was starting to blur a bit to the point where it was hard to even put one foot in front of the other. if only they didn't have to walk at all... claudia was hanging off of claudia, the two not getting very far on their feet, stumbling through the darkened streets of east kingsboro. "i am soooooooo fucked right now, you don't even know. i mean, you DO know, shit," cillian laughed, turning his head to look at claudia. taking his eyes off his feet for two seconds was enough to almost have him tripping over himself, almost taking claudia down with him. "fuck. what a night. we gotta do this more often," he slurred. they used to do this shit all the time when they were dumb teenagers. why did they ever stop? cillian couldn't remember. "we should get outta here. go somewhere." cillian's eyes landed on a car parked just up the street. no one was around. cillian smiled mischievously over at claudia. "i think i just had an idea," he sang.

Claudia.

Claudia and Cillian’s relationship had change a little bit recently. But in actuality...had it really changed at all? They still felt the same way about each other that they always had. Things were just clearer now. Their dynamic hadn’t really changed, so they both still made dumb decisions together. This might be on the list of one of the dumbest things they were ever going to do. Claudia had pregamed this. She’d done one too many lines of coke before they went to the bar in the middle of the day on a Sunday. Then, Claudia went to the bathroom and did more likes of coke. Shot after shot after shot had been downed by the pair. Why? They were both self hateful people who fed off of each other’s hatred for themselves. They didn’t care what happened to themselves which was one of the many reasons they gravitated towards each other. They stumbled out of the midnight rodeo after literally being kicked out. “I hate this hick bar anyway!” She yelled, turning to give the bartender the middle finger even though she would have kicked out anyone acting remotely as stupid out of Blue. They walked on the street, hanging on each other like the dumbasses they were. Claudia’s green eyes followed Cillian’s and she immediately knew what he was thinking. “I’m driving!!!” She spurred, running and nearly tripping over herself and she nearly hugged the luxury car that was parked on the street. “How do you wan’ bet its locked?” She mused before she was actually opening the fucking driver side door. “Oh shit.”

Cillian

cillian was actually laughing, watching claudia run ahead of him towards the car. he was suddenly serious though when the door actually opened, his mouth forming a small ‘o’ as his eyes widened. “holy fucking shiiiiit, are you kidding me?! fuck,” he breathed as he reached claudia at the car. this nice a car? unlocked? in east kingsboro? the only thing that could be stupider is if— cillian reached into the car and lowered the sun visor on the driver side. and just like that, they keys fell into the driver seat. it couldn’t be that easy. it’s like the guy was asking for it, honestly. cillian widened his eyes even further, his eyes meeting claudia’s. “claudia. holy fuggin’ shit.”

Claudia.

No way. This wasn’t real. It was like this car was just asking to be stolen. What dumbass would actually leave their car just chilling, unlocked on the street in New York City. They had to steal it now. “Lemme, lemme.” She said, snatching the keys from him but immediately dropping them as soon as they were in her hands. She cursed under her breath in Spanish as she bent down to pick them up. Except! She fell right onto the snowing ground right on her ass. She mumbled some more Spanish profanities under her breath as she struggled to stand up. “Maybe you.” She decided, waving the keys in the air towards him.

Cillian

cillian couldn’t help it. claudia was in her ass and he nearly doubled over laughing. he was really fucking drunk and that was maybe the funniest thing he had ever seen. even funnier though was when claudia offered him the keys. now. cillian didn’t drive. couldn’t drive. didn’t even have a license. but seeing claudia on her ass in the snow made cillian feel like him getting behind the wheel was still the safer bet. he took the keys from her before pulling her up on her feet, nearly falling on his ass in the process. after a good deal of giggling and stumbling in the snow, they were both in the car, cillian behind the wheel and claudia in the passenger seat. they were really gonna do this. they were gonna steal this car. cillian admittedly felt a bit anxious, but he was drunk enough that he was also feeling invincible. he could definitely do this. how hard could it be. he tightened his hands around the wheel and took a breath before turning the key and starting the car. he smirked over at claudia in the passenger seat, wiggling his eyebrows for good measure. “you fuckin ready for this?”

Claudia.

Even on her ass, Claudia still had an attitude. “Fuck you!” She exclaimed, giving him two middle fingers. She couldn’t help but through her head back as she laughed along with him though. Because this was hilarious. She didn’t know how much of this she would remember in the morning, but she was happy right now. Or at least she was happy being miserable with Cillian for now. That was what they did after all. Claudia huffed as Cillian pulled her to her feet, jumping slightly as she hiked up her black jeans. She couldn’t believe they were about to stealing this fucking car.  She put her seatbelt on. Why? She wasn’t sure. She was stealing a fucking car, so the fact that she was making a semi responsible choice was beside her. Anyway. She looked over at Cillian and nodded, giving him a kiss on the cheek for good luck. Guess they did that now? “Ready.” She slurred, bracing herself for whatever the hell was about to happen.

Cillian

cillian felt really good. like he could do absolutely anything. suddenly his problems were behind him, he couldn’t even remember what they were. all he knew was that claudia was beside him, encouraging him, and they were about to steal this fucking car. what was that line from that movie? the one with boat? “i’m king on the world!” cillian shouted, throwing the car into drive and speeding forward, skidding slightly as he did so. he hadn’t taken into account how slick the street would be with the snow, or how dark it was, or how he really had no idea what he was doing. he didn’t see the concrete road divider up ahead in time. “shit,” he breathed, eyes widening as he swerved to the right to miss it. but it was too late and the driver’s side collided with the road block. the car spun out to the right before coming to a stop. it felt like everything was moving in slow motion and yet it was over in an instant. between the adrenaline, shock, and alcohol in his system, cillian didn’t feel any pain immediately. he struggled to breathe at first, the airbag having deployed, knocking the air out of him. his first instinct was to look to claudia, though he couldn’t speak right away, forcing out a cough instead, trying to collect himself. shit shit shit. “claudia?” he sputtered out eventually, reaching for her. “you okay?”

Claudia.

There was a brief few moments in which Claudia felt completely invincible. Theses were the types of moments that she lived for. The moments that actually made her feel something besides complete numbness or utter despair. Right now she felt like she was flying. Most literally too. She felt her face hit the airbag with a force that was painful in and off itself, but when the force made her head jerk back and hit the back of the seat. Now that hurt. Fuck. The car was spinning out control and Claudia felt everything stop. She took a moment, the initial shock of it all making her freeze. She couldn’t feel anything. Not yet. Which surprised her. But she was fucked up and in shock. Absolute shock. She took a sharp breath in, remembering that she needed to breathe. “C?” She choked out, weakly turning her head to face the male. Her eyes widened and her heart stopped. He was fucked up. She checked herself. She was...okay compared to Cillian. “Cil. Oh my god! You’re bleeding.” She cried out in an absolute panic as she pointed to his leg. What could they do? They needed to get the fuck out of here. They couldn’t wait for help to arrive or else they’d both go to jail. Think, Claudia. Think. Jude? No he’d kill them. Where were they? Ellie maybe! She practically fell out of the smoking car and hobbled over to the driver’s side. “Get out. I’m calling Ellie.” She commanded weakly.

Cillian

cillian was fucked up. it hadn’t quite registered yet. he was more concerned with claudia for the moment, choking out a relieved sort of wheeze when she responded to him. thank fuck, he thought, his head lolling back so that he was faced with the airbag now which was starting to deflate. the pain he felt first was his face, surprisingly enough. he tasted blood and thought that maybe his nose was bleeding. he wasn’t sure. he touched his face absently and winced. he’d definitely have a pretty bad bruise. he didn’t think to look down until claudia mentioned his leg, and though the pain still wasn’t registering, his eyes widened and he felt nauseous at the sight of it. it felt unreal. like this wasn’t happening to him but to someone else. an out of body experience. “holy shit holy shit holy shit,” he swore repeatedly under his breath. sure enough, there was blood and panic began to set in as he realized what that probably meant. claudia was at his side suddenly, urging him to get out of the car. cillian knew they had to get out of there and fast. they’d been committing a crime. literal grand theft auto. they couldn’t be anywhere near the car if they wanted to get away with this. cillian’s brain somehow seemed to be one step ahead of the rest of his body. he couldn’t move. “i can’t— fuck, claudia i can’t fucking move, i think i— fuck, i think it’s broken,” he rasped. they had to get out of there and he didn’t trust that claudia could carry him anywhere in her present condition. he was disoriented as fuck and a little dizzy, either from the shock or the blood loss. cillian didn’t know shit about first aid. when claudia mentioned ellie’s name he nodded urgently. “yeah, fuck, call ellie.” he looked around, paranoid that someone would be coming to check on them at any moment. cillian reached for claudia, his heart in his throat as he continued to have to remind himself to breath. “help me.”

#discord #cillian #tw: car accident #tw: blood #tw: substance abuse

[starker-garbage]

So I was watching hoco agian. And I started thinking about a story. A building falls on Peter then he processed to fight vulture. What if the next day tony finds out from happy, then rushes to make sure Peters okay. And he's rambling and somewhere in there he mentions he loves him. So something like. "Do you know what I would do if you died. I love you, you can't leave me."

“I’m sorry he what?” Tony said, gritting his teeth as he listened to Happy’s story through the phone.

“Do you actually want me to repeat it or-” Happy said, basically feeling the negative, angry energy through the phone.

“A what fell on who?” He asked, knowing basically exactly what had gone down. Happy wouldn’t bend the truth, or lie, or pull a prank like this on him. That’s just not something he did.

“A building collapsed,”

“And you’re trying to tell me that it had collapsed on Peter?” Tony said, truly trying to wrap his mind around it.

“Yes,” Happy said, almost scared of what Tony’s reaction would be.

“And where is he now?”

“I’m not entirely sure, probably home, or at school, or patrolling, he could be anywhere,”

Tony didn’t respond, just hung up the phone and put it in his pocket, taking a few deep breaths to avoid doing something he regretted too much. Did the kid even care? Wasn’t he worried what everyone would feel like if he died? Why was he even there in the first place? In the position to get an entire building collapsed on him? He wasn’t indestructible and he knew that so why was the damn kid being so fucking stupid?

Multiple thoughts were rushing through Tony’s head. Obviously he couldn’t not say anything to Peter, because even though Tony has told the kid multiple times to not be a complete fucking dumbass, apparently he still needed to hear it more. Maybe it was a waste of Tony’s breath, but one day the kid was going to get it through his thick skull that he was being a complete fucking idiot and realize he needs to start being careful.

Tony decided the best way to talk to him would be waiting until the kid got home, and if he was already there, then that just meant this would go by a little faster. After taking a few deep breaths, he called Happy back.

“Can you come get me?” He asked. “I need a ride to Peter’s,”

“What are you gonna do, Tony?” Happy asked, getting ready to pick Tony up nonetheless.

“I’m going to go talk to the kid. What else? He can’t keep doing this, he’s going to die, and I don’t know what I’d do if that happened. I mean, I took the kids suit away and it hasn’t stopped him in the slightest. It’s getting so frustrating,”

“I mean, he is a teenager after all. That’s kind of what they do, Tony,”

Tony cringed at the word teenager. He needed to get that through his head. Teenager. Barely legal. A kid. A child. Not someone you should think about in any other way than platonic.

“I know, Happy, but most kids drink and smoke, and do reckless dumb shit that’s dangerous, but not get buildings to fall on them, and class A criminals chasing after them,”

Happy was basically in the car now. “Yeah, yeah, but still,” He said. “I don’t think you going down there and yelling is going to stop him from doing it. His mind’s pretty set on saving the world, being a what was it? Friendly neighborhood spider man?”

“I can’t just do nothing, Happy, he’s going to get himself killed,”

Happy sighed, at a loss of what to say. “Can you send me your location?”

“Yes, hurry please,” Tony was currently leaving some conference with some company when Happy had called him. He quickly sent the location to Happy after hanging up the phone.

While he waited for him, he couldn’t help but pace. The sun was beating down on him and his thoughts were rushing a thousand miles per hour. People walking by probably thought he was a madman, and hell, maybe he was, but right now, he just couldn’t care about what other people thought, because he was so fucking worried? Angry? Concerned? Fuck, Tony couldn’t even tell you what he was feeling. It was just one big cluster fuck.

When he saw the familiar car with the familiar person driving said car, he quickly rushed over to it, opening the back door, hoping in, and slamming it shut.

“As fast as you can,” Was all he said as he pulled out his phone. He had a tracking device on Peter’s suit, but not on Peter’s anything else. Nonetheless, he pulled up the app that told him where Peter’s suit was, in hopes of knowing something, but no luck at all. The suit was where Tony had left it.

“You need to calm down,” Happy said, seeing the distress on his friend face increase.

“Calm down?” Tony laughed, throwing his head back and leaning it against the back of the seats. “Calm down?” He repeated. “How the hell am I supposed to calm down?” He was laughing hysterically at this point. Shit. Maybe he really was going mad. “Jesus Christ,” He mumbled under his breath, closing his eyes, and trying to take Happy’s advice and calm down, even though he knew his attempts were futile.

“I should’ve let him keep the suit,”

“What?” Happy said, taking a glimpse at Tony, who looked a mess, through the rear-view mirror, before diverting his eyes back to the road.

“If I had just let him keep the suit, he would’ve had better protection, maybe he could’ve escaped before the building escaped, or hell, maybe he could’ve even stopped it from collapsing all together-”

“Don’t do that to yourself,” Happy stopped. “It’s not your fault the kid decided to meddle in something larger than he could handle, he’s reckless, not dumb. He knew it was a bad idea, but he went for it anyway, nothing about it is your fault,”

Tony knew that was supposed to reassure him, but it didn’t. He didn’t respond and jsut left himself to his thoughts for the rest of the drive over to Peter’s apartment. When Happy parked, it stopped Tony’s train of thought, and he opened the door, thanking Happy.

He walked into the lobby, to the elevator and onto Pete’s floor. Once he got to the door, he knocked. Someone might answer. May was probably working, but Peter, depending on what shape he was in, was either at school or home, or patrolling. If that kid was patrolling right now Tony might actually have a heart attack.

After waiting a minute or so, he heard the door unlock, then the door opened and revealed Peter’s face. Once he saw it was Tony at the door, he opened it wider. “Oh, hello Mister Stark, why are you here?”

Tony just stared down at him, his face expressionless. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling. Was he relieved? Upset? He was relieved to some extent, sure. Peter wasn’t horribly injured, not that he could see right away. There a nasty bruise on his arm that he hadn’t covered up. Tony didn’t want to know the other injuries that could be hiding behind Peter’s clothing.

“I mean, not like I don’t want to see you or anything,” Peter began to ramble on. “But it’s kind of weird for you to just show up- actually no it’s not- you tend to just show up a lot actually, kind of creepy sometimes- I mean not that you’re creepy or anything-”

“Can I come in?” Tony asked, still trying to sort out his emotions.

“Oh, yeah, sorry of course,” Peter said, side-stepping so Tony could get through.

Once Tony was inside he looked around. “Is it just you?”

“Wha? Oh yeah, May’s at work,” He said. Tony glanced at him and it didn’t take a genius to realize the boy was antsy, he kept balling his fists, wiping them on his jeans, even the way he was standing made it obvious the boy wasn’t doing too great.

“So, what have you been up too recently?”

“Oh, you know, Mister Stark, same ol’ stuff,”

“Staying out of trouble?” Tony said, directing his attention from around the apartment back to Peter, making direct eye contact while quirking a brow.

“Uh, for, for the most part, ya, yeah,” He said, laughing nervously.

“Really?” Tony says, staring Peter down, noticing how the boy is getting even more nervous.

“Ya, Yeah, why’d you ask,”

“Oh no reason, say, where’d ya get that bruise on your arm,” Tony said, stepping forward, carefully grabbing Peter’s arm and holding it up, showcasing the painful-looking bruise on his arm, observing it further. It was a deep purple. It’s what you would expect a bruise to look like if it was caused by rubble falling on your body.

“Mister Stark, I have a feeling you know something,”

“Hm, do you now? So I guess you really aren’t dumb,”

“I gotta say I’m a little confused Mister Stark, I-”

“So if you’re not an idiot, I don’t know why you’d go chasing after criminals, and then get an entire fucking building to fall on you,”

Peter’s jaw dropped. “I mean, I didn’t get it to fall on me, someone else broke it I was just, I uh- I was in the way of it,” There was a short pause. “It was kind of a lesson, if I remember correctly, it really wasn’t all that bad,” Peter was rambling at this point. Tony released his arm gently and looked him in the eye.

“Why do you keep doing this to yourself, kid?”

“I, um-”

“You can’t keep letting yourself be put in harm’s way!”

“I was fine! I swear Mister Stark, I had it under control! I mean, sort of, I didn’t plan for it to happen the way it did, or anything, I didn’t plan for the building to fall on me, duh, but I knew basically what I was doing! And I got out of it, nothing bad happened it was fine,”

“For one, me and you have different definitions of fine–”

Peter tried to cut Tony off, but he kept talking.

“Secondly, even if that was considered ‘fine’, one day, you’re not going to be so lucky, you’re not going to get out, and then who knows what will happen. You could get injured, you could die. Do you even care? This is your life we’re talking about, Pete,”

“But I’m fine!” Peter yelled, he didn’t know why he was yelling, but he was getting mad at how Tony would just swoop in and yell at him for doing things Tony would’ve done if it meant saving someone. Why was it any different when he did it?

“Once again!” Tony was also raising his voice now. “We have two completely different definitions of fine!” Tony reached forward and grabbed his arm again, holding it up. “It’s a bruise this time, but what about next time? And don’t say it won’t ever happen again because this isn’t the first time! You keep putting yourself in these dangerous situations, without caring what happens to you, or what other people are going to do when you get hurt, you’re just being reckless, Peter,”

“Try and tell me you wouldn’t do the same thing!” Peter yelled, yanking his arm away. It hurt a lot, but he wouldn’t admit that. Especially not to Tony.

“It’s different, kid,”

“Tell me, how’s it different?”

“I don’t know kid, it just is, okay?”

“No!” Peter yelled. “It’s not okay, you would’ve done the same thing in that situation! And you can’t sit here and look me in my face that you wouldn’t because we both know that’s bullshit,”

“Peter-”

“No, Tony, It’s B-S!”

“Peter listen to me, you can’t keep doing this!” Tony was trying to avoid the ‘you would do it too,’ because yes, he would. He was dumb and reckless as well, but that’s a subject for another time.

“God,” Peter said, exasperated. He ran his fingers through his hair and through them back down to his sides. “Why are you so concerned with every little thing I do? I don’t see you riding up anyone else’s ass about this, it’s only me,”

“That’s not true,” Tony said, slightly throwing his head back. It wasn’t true was it? Think, Tony, think of an example come on- “Wanda, I’m always concerned about her,”

“No, you were concerned when the papers were being signed because she was seen as a weapon, it’s different and you know that, so why are you so concerned with me? Concerned with how I save lives, how I save people, how I defeat bad guys? Do you like adding to the stress level I have to deal with in those situations? Do you want me to be fighting and think “Oh, damn Mister Stark’s gonna be pissed, I should stop and let everyone else handle it,”

“To some extent, kid, Yes I do. I want you to think, I don’t want you plunging into battle without a second thought of the people who care about you!”

Peter didn’t respond. It felt like the breath was taken out of his lungs. He had so much he wanted to say but he just couldn’t.

“What would Ned feel? What would May feel? Do you think about that at all? How they’d feel if you died? Or got hurt? Held hostage?”

“I-” Peter began, but Tony cut him off.

“I mean, Jesus Christ kid, what about me? Do you know what I would do if you died? I’d be devastated. I love you, Peter, and as selfish as it might be, you can’t leave me. I can’t live in a world that you’re not in. And it hurts me to feel that way, it really does, but I can’t stop it. And so I have to watch as you constantly put yourself in harm’s way, and it’s killing me, Peter,”

Peter listened as Tony poured his heart out and he was shocked to say the least. He noticed how his jaw had dropped slightly, and instantly closed it.

“It’s like you don’t even care-”

It happened in a flash. Tony saw Peter stepping closer, bouncing up on his toes to make himself taller, and then he felt Peter’s soft lips against his. Tony was shocked for the first few seconds, obviously. However, he was able to gather his thoughts enough to start kissing back and place his hands on Peter’s hips and pull him closer.

Tony wasn’t sure who initiated the tongue kissing, but he was sure thankful it happened. It was hot and messy and Tony shouldn’t be getting excited by how inexperienced Peter obviously was, but the dirty reality was that it just made it all the better.

Every other thought of Tony’s was pushed away and all he could think of was Peter. Peter’s tongue. Peter’s body against his. Peter’s soft skin. Peter’s lips. Peter’s hands that were tangling themselves in his hair. Peter.

Unfortunately, you can’t kiss forever because of this pesky little thing called: oxygen.

“Sorry,” Peter said, not breaking eye contact and his face flushed red.

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I’m not entirely sure, but probably because of the fight, or the fact I kissed you, or-”

Tony cut him off. “That took some guts, I could’ve meant it all platonically,”

“Yeah, I thought about that but then,” Peter tilted his head, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “I decided it was worth the risk,”

Tony couldn’t help but smile. This kind of risk was a risk he didn’t mind Peter taking.

///sorry this took so long///

#peter parker/tony stark #tony stark/peter parker #peter parkerxtony stark #tony starkxpeter parker #tony stark x peter parker #peter parker x tony stark #ironspider #starker #starker fanfiction #starker fanfic #starker fic #fluff #angst and fluff #first kiss #hurt!peter #bruised!peter #injured!peter #Tony Stark has a heart #original work

[concussed-to-pieces]

I Want It All

Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure

Pairing: Jean Pierre Polnareff/Female Reader

Rating: Holy shit M

AN: Hello my broskis, and welcome back to more of my indulgence! This takes place during the Stardust Crusaders arc (and also is an 'everyone lives' AU because I am nothing if not an indulgent bastard.) Enjoy, and thank you for reading!

[!WARNING!: For my attempts at French, it has been...many years since my lessons. Forgive my lingual sins.]

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: For canon-typical gore, blood and violence. Stay safe!]

...

"I am only speaking the truth!" Polnareff protested, blue eyes wide in feigned hurt.

"You, Jean Pierre Polnareff, couldn't speak the truth if your life depended on it!" You shot back, halfway between laughter and fury. "You expect me to believe everything that comes out of your mouth? I wasn't born yesterday, big fella'."

"But it's true! Your eyes light up so wonderfully when you're annoyed or put out--just like they are right now!" The Frenchman was obviously trying hard to butter you up. "You and Jotaro both have such expressive eyes, it's tres bien to see the two of you hot under the collar."

"What the hell did you just say?" Jotaro growled. "You tryin' to tell me you've been this obnoxious because you like how it makes people look? You're such a damn handful Polnareff."

"I agree!" You huffed, crossing your arms and glaring at the menace in front of you.

Polnareff just laughed it off, throwing an arm around your shoulders. "You are so lovely when you're upset."

"You're just as lovely when you're being obnoxious, you gravy-sucking--"

"Ah ah, such language!" Jean interrupted, tilting his chin pointedly in Anne's direction. "Little ears don't need to hear rough speech."

"You've gotta' be joking, she could probably teach you some new curse words!" You teased, laughing outright when Anne nodded enthusiastically and started rambling down a list of incredibly colorful phrases.

Amidst Polnareff's wailing about how unladylike it was that Anne had an impressive repertoire, you felt his eyes on you. Ever since you had collapsed it had been this way, Jean Pierre hovering like a nervous parent. It was infuriating! You weren't some helpless child. Your Stand may consume your energy at an exponential rate, but it made up for the increased strain with impressive damage output. You didn't need anyone coddling you, and you did your best to make sure that the group knew that. Joseph was the only one who seemed to 'forget' aside from Polnareff; he was also a parent and prone to worrying so you tried to let it slide.

It was certainly a bunch of misfits you had taken up with. You had your own reasons for wanting to beat Dio's face in, noble or otherwise, and it seemed like your best chance to get close was to engage in the Joestar's crusade. Though the Strength Stand was a bit of a wakeup call.

You had only passed out twice in the span that you had been fighting alongside the Crusaders. You had grown leaps and bounds as a Stand user, able to keep your Stand active for longer and longer periods of time. Sure, your Stand was no Star Platinum, but you were far from the weakling you had been.

To let Jean Pierre hold you back felt like admitting defeat, and so you railed against his supposed 'well-meaning' concern with all your might. It led to heated disagreements between you, the Frenchman insisting on keeping you behind the bulk of his body and Silver Chariot's defensive saber during battles.

He nicknamed you Le Canon De Verre, The Glass Cannon, after one such tangle with enemy Stand users. "Destructive, beautiful when the sunlight hits you just right, and entirely reckless!" The backhanded compliment had only served to infuriate you further, as had his jovial laughter after the fact. You nearly dislocated his shoulder with your Stand's punch, startling him into silence.

"You're so-!" You bit your tongue, unwilling to get yourself thrown out of the group because you couldn't take his teasing. "Mean, Polnareff, that's what you are!" You had snapped finally. "You can't just say things like that to me, okay? I'm trying so hard! Stop making fun of me already!"

"I'm not...I-I apologize, I did not intend to hurt your feelings. In this group we tend to go at one another for sport. I assumed you would join in." The large man had continued to hold his shoulder, grimacing. "I thought you wanted to, anyway."

"I don't want to be hazed or initiated, if that's what you're getting at. I'd rather be an outlier if I'm going to have to engage in a dick-waving contest." You had replied firmly.

Polnareff looked thoughtful, which was rare. "I understand. I will ah, 'ease up'. Can you forgive me?"

"Will you stop pouting if I do?"

"Perhaps. Unless, of course, you find me more attractive when I pout?"

"No." His crestfallen expression had made you laugh harder than you wanted to admit.

...

Finding out Jean Pierre Polnareff had a penchant for dirty talk in the bedroom was like finding out that the sky was the same shade of blue as the previous day.

Utterly unsurprising.

He loved to hear himself talk so damn much you were fairly certain that he got off on it, whether his partners did or not.

Joseph laughed boisterously when Polnareff proudly stated his enjoyment of such activities during a rowdy night of drinking, the older man slapping him on the back. "I'll drink to that, my chatty friend! I feel your pain. I remember when Caesar and I were training, I had to wear a mask to regulate my breathing and…" Joseph paused, the sparkle in his green eyes dimming. "He was a wonderful friend, was Caesar." He murmured instead of continuing his story.

Jotaro looked about as interested as you had ever seen him, the stoic teen studying his grandfather. "Was he now."

"A phenomenal fighter and a total pain in the ass. Always trying to one-up me." Joseph dashed away a tear. You shifted closer to him beside the fire, touching your shoulder to his. On his other side Polnareff did the same, effectively sandwiching the older man between the two of you. "He was incredibly brave and incredibly dumb, almost as dumb as I was." Joseph dug around in one of the pockets on his cargo pants, drawing out a thin strip of cloth with a triangular pattern on it. "This is all that I have to remember him by."

Avdol shook his head, resting his hands on Joseph's shoulders from his place behind him. "You have the many, many memories of the two of you as well, Mr. Joestar."

"True! I'm sorry kids, I get so melancholic around campfires. I doubt the drinking helps." Joseph wound the strip of cloth between the fingers of his mechanical hand absentmindedly, the fabric frayed like he had done it many times before.

"Mr. Joestar, would you tell us some stories about Caesar?" Kakyoin requested softly. "You shouldn't have to shoulder the burden of his memory alone."

Jotaro grunted in affirmation, getting up and moving across the clearing to slouch beside his grandfather. "Spare us no detail, old man. I want to know about the guy that could kick your ass."

"He couldn't-! That's an awful lot to assume, Jotaro!" Joseph huffed indignantly, his bleak mood seeming to vanish once his pride was poked at. "He used Hamon to trap me in a bubble! Can you even imagine being that insecure?!"

You caught Jean looking at you over the top of Joseph's head as he rambled (no small feat considering the size of the elder Joestar). Polnareff glanced at Joseph, then back at you. Both of you nodded after a moment, coming to a silent agreement.

Jean Pierre would take a step back in battle to allow you a step forward, and you would be more cautious.

...

From that point on, things smoothed out a little between the two of you. You didn't feel so stifled, like every move was watched. Chariot was ready and willing to work together with your Stand, the rapier-wielding chevalier helping to increase your own admittedly-lacking range. It was surreal how well you and Jean could control the battlefield now that you weren't at each other's throats.

Jean's motions when he was fighting were one with Chariot's. Often it was difficult to tell where Stand ended and man began, Chariot a literal extension of his own body. He moved with a savage finesse that was a treat to watch, something you hadn't been able to appreciate when he was trapping you behind him. Now that you could operate on even footing however, it was a different story. There was ample time to watch him fight, ample time to hear him taunt the enemy in both French and English, or a jumbled mess of the two. Perhaps a little too much time, if you were being honest. Jean Pierre was an incorrigible show off.

Somewhere along the way you had also gained a new nickname.

"Did you see that, mon coeur?" The silver-haired young man would often exclaim after you two managed to do something impressive, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "They didn't stand a chance!"

You wanted to hate yourself for enjoying his enthusiasm when it came to fighting. After all, you were on a very important quest. Now wasn't the time to be entertaining such thoughts, like fun and what will happen after all of this? Now wasn't the time to wonder about Polnareff's multitude of lovers, the wistful wife no doubt waiting for him at home in France.

"What will you do?" You asked him the night after his agonizing encounter with the copies of Avdol and his dearly departed sister. "When all of this is over, I mean."

"I...I don't really know." He had been in a thoughtful mood the entire day, more forlorn than you had ever seen him. It broke your heart, just a little. "I'd like to see more of the world, I think." His voice was so soft, as if he didn't want to say anything at all.

"What places do you want to visit?"

"I'd like to see Niagara Falls." You knew you had him then, watching his body perk up ever so slightly. "I've heard so much about Canada. I have distant relations there as well. And then, I want to go to Florida!" Jean gushed. "No wait, perhaps Mexico or South America first, trek the Amazon and then make my way up the East Coast. Yes, that will do. But California, the vineyards, I must...how will I decide?!"

You were so thrilled at the return of his dramatic nature that you laughed aloud and threw your arms around his neck. "There you are. Thought I'd lost you for a minute." You murmured against Polnareff's jaw, the gesture oddly intimate for you. You heard Jean swallow convulsively and then he embraced you, holding you to his chest.

"Your friendship is such a precious gift, mon coeur." The large man whispered, his voice sounding slightly choked. "Whatever comes of us, know that this crusade will not be the end. I, Jean Pierre Polnareff, promise you that. We will see the world as it should be."

"A promise of such weight demands the proper gesture." You pulled back slightly and hooked your left pinky around his own. "The pinky promise of Polnareff shall not be broken easily, I warn you. If we don't travel the world, there will be hell to pay."

You didn't exactly have confidence in the fact that you would be returning from the tangle with Dio, so the promise was both simple and hard for you to make. Jean's smile in reply warmed you from head to toe, the sensation strange but not unwelcome. "I would have it no other way." He swore sincerely.

…

Your Stand vanished under the blow and you clutched the heavily-bleeding stump of your left wrist, all that was left where your hand had once been. You dimly heard Jean Pierre screaming (in what was hopefully rage, it was difficult to tell sometimes).

Despite he and Avdol's insistence that this fight was every man for himself, you couldn't just stand by and let Jean die to gain an opening at Dio. It was better this way, you reasoned while your Stand had flung Polnareff out of the range of the fiendish Cream Stand and into the range of Iggy's Stand. Polnareff has a better chance at getting Dio than I do, so I should make this count.

Your eyes had met Jean's seconds before Cream's void reached him, and you shot the tall man a shaky, battered smile. It'll be okay, you wanted to tell him, it'll all be fine. Iggy's Stand enveloped him, sand barely holding together as the small dog draped over your arm struggled to breathe.

Cream's void touch obliterated your Stand's left hand and you felt the pain down to your soul, dropping to your knees and almost immediately emptying the contents of your stomach.

Consciousness didn't stick around for much longer, the blood loss too rapid for you to staunch effectively on your own. You prayed that you had been useful even as your senses dimmed.

...

You didn't really expect to wake up, so realizing that sunlight was beating down on your eyelids was bizarre.

You tried to open your eyes, but gave up after a few moments and simply basked in the warm haze. This is actually kind of nice.

Your brow furrowed as you tried to recall what led to this. You were drawing a blank. Unconcerned, you hummed out a breath and shifted slightly on the soft surface you rested upon. Your left hand felt odd, heavier than you remembered and sluggish. But then again, your whole body felt heavy and sluggish. I wonder where I am, you mused, not exactly motivated to find out. It was as though thinking was a struggle.

A deep voice reached your ears, the words incomprehensible but soothing all the same. Someone seemed to be speaking in an area adjacent to your own. Were you in a hospital?

Curiosity started to penetrate the haze, and with it came the thrum of distant pain and a soft, insistent beeping. Maybe you had been in an accident of some kind, you must be in a hospital. That mystery solved, you tried to open your eyes again. You flexed your hands, first left, then right. Your left hand was definitely slower.

After a final, Herculean effort, you pried your eyes open and immediately summoned your Stand. It looked gaunt and frail when it appeared, as though a gust of wind might blow it away. The relief you felt at the familiar sight was short-lived as your gaze trailed down to the Stand's left hand. Or rather, where it had been. It seemed wrong, twisted in a strange way.

Egypt. Dio. The Joestar Crusade. Recollections poured back into your mind like a torrent, making your whole body go stiff. Your Stand touched their forehead to your own, making their customary sound as if to reassure you that they were alright.

"Where's…" Your words were muffled by the oxygen mask you wore. Where is everyone?

Your Stand, appearing thrilled to be out and about once again, practically lunged towards the door of your room. You had to close your eyes to fight the nausea at the abrupt motion, biting the inside of your cheek to choke back the bile.

You felt when your Stand reached the edge of your range and then, something careened past it heading in your direction. You sensed the displacement of the air and the door to your room suddenly burst open.

"Oh my God, you finally woke up!" It was none other than Joseph Joestar, his eyes brimming with tears. "We weren't sure if you were...I'm so happy!" He bolted towards the bed with the vigor of a man a quarter of his age, nearly crushing you in a tight hug. "The others need to know, I have to-"

The door to the room was having quite a busy day as two more bodies made their way through it. Both Kakyoin and Jotaro looked somewhat worse for wear (Kakyoin was so covered in bandages he bore a striking resemblance to a mummy) but at the familiar irate grunt of "Good grief," from the taller young man currently pushing the redhead's wheelchair, you got the feeling that they would be just fine.

Avdol sauntered in with Iggy slung over one shoulder, the black and white dog glancing at you and then yawning widely as if to say, "my work here is done."

"You're okay." Your voice was barely a whisper, tears welling up in your eyes. "B-But Avdol, I thought…am I dead? Did we all die?"

"I mean, the old man tried pretty hard to die on me but I wasn't going to let him get away with that shit." Jotaro growled.

"It is a bit of a miracle, the survival of Iggy and myself. All thanks to you and Polnareff, my friend. Due to your quick intervention, Jean Pierre managed to land the killing blow on Vanilla Ice and drag most of my body back from the abyss of his Stand." Avdol held up his gloved hands, showing you his arms bandaged to the shoulder. "My body has yet to reject the prosthetics, so with some luck I'll make a full recovery."

"Where is Jean Pierre?" You asked faintly, your strength waning. As if to answer, there was a loud crash from the hallway and someone was abruptly swearing a blue streak in French.

"He's not entirely used to the crutches, but he refused our help." Kakyoin explained hastily. "He should be here any second now."

"Speaking of prosthetics, how does your hand feel?" Joseph asked curiously. "Any pain? My hand took some getting used to."

"It's totally gone, isn't it." At the older man's nod you giggled, a little hysterical. "I'm scared to look. I don't want to see how much I've changed. My poor Stand…"

Polnareff interrupted your rambling by all but flopping through the doorway, half-supported by a weakened-looking Chariot. Both Stand and man lit up upon seeing you awake, Chariot waving wildly, and without thinking you raised your left hand to wave back.

You caught sight of smooth metal fingers responding jerkily to your brain's stimulus and that was all it took to make you go gray at the edges.

Does a pinky promise still count if the pinky that you promised it with is gone?

"Mon coeur, open your eyes! Please, I promise it's not so bad!" Polnareff's imploring words met your ears when you regained consciousness moments later.

"Five more minutes, have mercy on me." You groaned, not opening your eyes just yet. "Fuck. How long has it been since the fight?"

"Almost three weeks."

"Fuck. Did we win at least?"

"Holly is going to make a full recovery." Joseph said. You could hear the smile in his words and that gave you the courage you needed to open your eyes and finally look down at your hand.

"Fuck that's sore." You winced, the pain vibrant now as you moved your fingers individually. "I think I liked being out cold better."

"You were the last to wake up. We've all been so worried!" Kakyoin said, sounding relieved.

"Even Jotaro?" You teased, laughing when the aforementioned boy grumbled something in reply and Star Platinum appeared to loudly Ora!, as if contradicting the stone-faced teen.

Jean Pierre slotted himself into the space between your bed and the wall, his large frame almost too big to fit. Chariot chirruped at you while their user reached out slowly, so slowly to cradle your new hand in his own. For all his size and strength he was surprisingly delicate, his fingers feeling strangely warm to your overly-sensitive appendage. "As you may recall," He began quietly, glancing up at you before ducking his head again. "I made a promise. Once you are entirely well, we will...we have a lot of traveling to do if you would accompany me."

"I don't know if that promise still counts." You said before you could think, more than a little shocked that he had even remembered that promise. You wiggled your fingers haphazardly.

"We can make a new one if you wish." Polnareff was as serious as you had ever seen him, those blue eyes boring into your own. He raised your hand to his lips and kissed your bandaged wrist, the look on his face daring you to stop him.

You extended your metal pinky with a wince, letting him be the one to loop his finger around your own this time. The feeling of metal on metal startled you momentarily, but you recalled that he had lost two fingers to Cream himself. "I pinky promise. It'll give me something to look forward to while we're all recovering."

Recover you did, with a speed that you attributed to spite against Dio. The sooner you were healed, the sooner you would be able to leave that vampiric fiend in the dust he had become.

The sooner you would be able to journey with Polnareff, your brain felt the need to chime in gleefully. It made you flush more often than not, the idea of being legitimately alone with the large man. You couldn't recall a time during the entire adventure that the two of you had been alone, and you weren't certain why but it filled you with an odd trepidation.

Jean Pierre was not one to let simple things like the doctor said you need to be careful get in his way, the large man determined to recover as quickly as he could. His hand and thigh were healing up well it seemed, but his foot was slower going. They had been traumatic injuries and you tried to reason with him that it was expected, though it didn't seem to penetrate his thick skull. The doctors of the Speedwagon Foundation clearly had the patience of Job.

Polnareff lavishly praised your own recovery progress; his thrilled exclamation of Magnifique! when you managed to open a jar during physical therapy almost made all the pain and frustration worth it. You could only imagine how obnoxious it must be for someone as self-sufficient as Jean to be unable to walk without help, so you did your best to be just as encouraging to him when he seemed weary. Your terrible rendition of Hail The Conquering Hero never failed to put a smile on his face even while he slouched in a chair at your bedside.

"The worst part is how bone-tired I am." He admitted one evening. "All my energy is going towards healing and learning how to redistribute my weight and it is...difficult to stay positive when I truly feel how heavy my body is." Jean gave you a half-smile. "Who would have thought being the tallest and most muscular of the group would be detrimental to me in the long run, eh mon coeur?"

"Hey at least you've got that going for you. It took me a good week to be able to flex my hand enough to flip someone off again!" You complained, trying to get him to laugh. Jean took your metal hand, his expression unreadable. The doctors had been fine tuning the receptors in your fingers and palm, so his touch was no longer scorching. You wished that your face had gotten the memo.

"Don't think that I'll ever forget what you did for me." Jean's voice was soft, yet firm. It added a strange weight to the conversation. "I know you wanted to kill Dio as much as the rest of us, and you gave up your chance...no, your damn hand, to save me instead. I owe a debt I doubt I can repay and I will never forget that, mon coeur." He sighed, "So many debts to focus on! First Avdol, then Iggy, and now you. My life is forfeit I suppose."

"W-What does that mean?" You stammered, blurting out the first thing you could think of.

"What does what mean?"

"What you call me, mon kyar or something. I assume it's French?"

"It is."

"So...what does it mean?" You pressed after he was silent for several seconds. "You gonna' tell me?"

A knock on the doorframe interrupted the conversation, the nurse with your usual tray of food arriving right on time as ever. Jean Pierre was in such a hurry to leave he nearly bowled the poor man over, mumbling an apology as he hobbled past.

What the hell was that all about? You wondered as you ate your meal. If he believed he could avoid your question like that, he was dumber than you thought. What if it was a swear or an insult? You froze, thinking back to your original glass cannon nickname. The fork in your metal hand was bent nearly in half before you could stop yourself, and you spent several panicky seconds trying to flatten it back out.

…

Niagara Falls was first on the list of attractions. It was a poorly-designed list, of course, but you were still excited to see more of the world.

You supposed you were a hopeless optimist for believing that nothing untoward would happen to the two of you while embarking on your grand tour.

"Pose by the railing! I want to take your picture with that backdrop of the falls." Jean urged, laughing when you stuck your tongue out and curved your back into a weird-looking, hunched stance.

"How's this?" You asked, striking an even stranger pose afterwards and laughing along when his composure entirely dissolved. He staggered over to lean on your shoulder, still cackling, then his fingers wrapped around your non-metallic wrist.

"I need you to move with me." The mirth was abruptly gone from Jean's face though his smile stayed; his broad shoulders tensed like he was bracing for impact. "Don't make a scene. We're taking two steps back from the railing."

You giggled to keep up the illusion that the two of you were just sharing an intimate chat, nodding once and waiting for him to give you the go ahead.

A hulking, metallic Stand suddenly appeared overhead and plummeted downwards. Jean summoned Chariot without so much as blinking, your own Stand not far behind. The two of you sidestepped the enemy Stand's crushing attempt and launched yourselves back into the crowd of tourists, your smaller size allowing you to more easily make your way through throngs of people. Jean struggled to keep up and you grabbed onto his hand, no worry for propriety on your mind while you wove between the sightseers.

Someone's outstretched leg was almost your downfall but Jean heaved you bodily up into his arms and kept moving, setting you back on your feet without so much as breaking stride.

"I imagine they're still following us." He hissed, seeming annoyed. It had been overcast all day but now it started to drizzle. The crowd began to thin and you could feel Jean getting more and more anxious, trying to stick with groups that kept dwindling. He started swearing under his breath, his eyes darting around as he tried to locate the enemy Stand user.

Your own eyes landed on a corridor that led back into the visitor's center, and just inside the mouth of the corridor was a door beside a pay phone. No doubt it led to a maintenance closet or area of some kind, but it was cover all the same.

You opened your mouth to tell Jean your plan but before you could utter a word he grabbed your shoulder, ripping you backwards. The enemy Stand slammed into the ground where you had been standing, whirring loudly as it attempted to free itself from the cement.

Polnareff was actually shaking, the large man maintaining a death grip on your hand and making a mad dash for the door you had noticed. Chariot's blade nimbly took care of the lock.

The space was entirely too small.

Jean Pierre's chest heaved against yours, the Frenchman still panting for air from your headlong dash. Overhead Silver Chariot made sounds of distress, pressing their helm to your forehead while your Stand hovered worriedly.

"Ch-Chariot!" Polnareff scolded, waving his Stand back. "Non, Chariot."

His arms wrapped around you suddenly at the sound of running footsteps outside the door, and you felt the muscles of his thighs tense in preparation to flee. Your metal fingers dug into his shoulder and he winced, letting out a strangled noise.

"Sorry, sorry." You hissed, sure that you had accidentally left a bruise. Who would have expected Stand users to attack you even after the defeat of Dio?!

The footsteps paused outside the door and Jean Pierre's hold tightened even further, threatening to crush the breath out of your lungs. Whoever they were, the person appeared to be making a phone call with the pay phone on the wall by the closet.

"I don't know where they went. It's like them and their Stands turned the corner and disappeared into the rain." The individual said, sounding dejected. "Yeah, I'll head back."

Jean cautiously slid you down his body to rest on the floor, then pointed silently at the doorknob. The handle jiggled as the person on the other side began turning it, no doubt trying to be thorough before returning to whatever hole they crawled out of.

They didn't expect the enormous silver-haired Stand user to be the one behind the door, as evidenced by their horrified yelp. Polnareff slapped a hand over the man's mouth and dragged him into the closet, where both of your Stands were eagerly waiting to dispose of him.

...

Your damp clothes stuck to your body like they were vacuum sealed and you groaned, fidgeting with your jeans. Jean Pierre was in the same boat, soaked to the skin and doing his best to try and wring out his already-tight tank top. "It's no use, mon coeur. Let's find a hotel and see about getting dry." He said with a defeated sigh, offering you his arm.

It served you right for trying to do some sightseeing during a peak tourist season. Not a hotel in the entire damn city had a double room available, or even a twin and sleeper sofa combo! You wanted to scold Jean for his lackadaisical planning, but you figured from his deflated expression that he hadn't taken into account the fact that everyone else in the world was also on vacation.

"The best I can do for you is a room with one queen. I'm really sorry, sir, but with the summer traffic-"

"Non, do not apologize!" Jean hastily interrupted the woman behind the counter. "My companion and I appreciate whatever hospitality you can extend to us, and we thank you for your time. The fact that you found us a room at all is more than enough." He shook her hand while she went bright red and you barely choked back your giggle. Jean Pierre was a handful normally so he was entirely outrageous when he laid the charm on thick.

The room was small but the bed was clean, and that was really all that mattered to you. Polnareff began rummaging through his bag for a dry change of clothes and you took the opportunity to bolt for the shower. The air conditioning in the hotel lobby, while pleasant at first, ended up chilling you through your wet clothes. A nice hot shower would rectify that.

"Bath or shower?" Jean called through the door. In response, you turned on the showerhead.

You emerged ten minutes later, warm and sleepy from the long and strenuous day. Jean Pierre was waiting beside the bed, clothes neatly folded on the floor.

"You look radiant, mon coeur!" He teased, getting to his feet and chucking you under the chin. "Can you tuck yourself in? You seem ready to sleep standing up."

"Oh hush." You grumbled, batting his hand away and trotting over to your own bag. He laughed softly and you heard the bathroom door close behind you. You quickly dropped your towel and rummaged through your bag for a loose shirt and some clean panties, struggling into the garments as sleep dragged at your limbs. The bed felt heavenly when you finally stripped back the covers and climbed in, and even with the lamp on in the room your eyes grew heavy.

You snuggled a pillow to your chest and drifted off, stirring when you felt someone lay down beside you. Lips touched your forehead and Jean Pierre murmured, "only me, mon coeur. Go back to sleep."

You abandoned your pillow and slotted yourself into his arms, mumbling some gibberish while you buried your face in his chest. He was wonderfully shirtless and you took advantage of your drowsy, carefree state, uncharacteristically bold in your cuddling.

You felt more than heard his breath hitch, and then he was urging your chin up so that you would make eye contact. "Are you awake?" He whispered. "You are acting strange." You whined in reply and a breathless little chuckle left his lips. "So sulky! I will not deprive you of any more rest. Sleep well, mon coeur."

You dropped your head back onto his chest, his heartbeat thudding loudly in your ear. It was almost loud enough to drown him out when he spoke next.

"I could have lost you today, mon coeur." Jean breathed. "That Stand...it would have left you as a stain on the pavement. What a terrible thought." His arms wrapped around you and his chest expanded with a heartfelt sigh. "Unbearable, even. My heart stopped for just that second. I wasn't sure I would be able to move you in time. I wished for Jotaro's power then! What a ridiculous thing to do in the heat of the moment, no?"

Jean's hands were shaking, fingers rubbing light circles on your back.

"I couldn't breathe. I was trembling. Me! The idea of me fearing anything is preposterous. But I did. I...I feared for your life. I feared that I would lose you." He chuckled, the noise a little ragged. "What selfish fears I have, mon coeur."

…

After that, it was easier to find accommodations. The two of you could share more than a battlefield without killing each other, it seemed. It was only slightly mortifying to disentangle yourself from his grasp in the morning, seeing as you were always the first one awake. But it did offer you ample time to study his face all flushed and relaxed, so you decided that you could live with the embarrassment of knowing that you cuddled up to him in your sleep.

Or maybe it was vice versa? You usually went to sleep on the far side of the bed, and yet you always woke up with him holding you in his arms. As if he was seeking out your body heat in his sleep. It was almost enough to make you suspicious if you didn't secretly relish the lazy mornings before you were fully awake, just luxuriating in being held.

Jean Pierre was an enthusiastic if not entirely capable tour guide no matter where you went, though half the time he could be caught with notes written in Kakyoin's hand detailing the areas you were visiting. It would seem that the younger man had been essentially everywhere and had whipped up a few cheat sheets for Polnareff.

So the two of you saw all the sights you could cram in and then some, resulting in long days and sleeping like the dead.

Until one night. A fateful night, like the stories always said.

Your metal hand had been acting up through the day due to a changing weather system and it left you tense and anxious, unable to relax. You were plagued with the fear that you might have already broken your new hardware. The idea of having to cut your trip short due to your appendage not 'playing nice' soured your mood even further.

Jean Pierre seemed to sense your discomfort but not the source, the large man cautiously asking over dinner at a local cafe whether he had done something to upset you.

"Mon coeur, your eyes have lost that mischievous shine. Was it something I said?" He queried with a fair amount of concern. From their spot beside him Chariot reached out their saber, as if to also inquire. The Stand's mannerisms never ceased to be charming to you; they displayed a blunt inquisitiveness that was such an obvious facet of Jean Pierre it made you want to tease him. Their rapier rested delicately on the table, just to the left of your fingers.

"I just want things to keep working." You couldn't keep the annoyance out of your voice. Your hand twitched involuntarily, bumping Chariot's rapier, and you swore under your breath.

Jean Pierre definitely noticed that. "Your hand as well? My foot and hand have been ah, cantankerous all day. I thought I was the only one." He laughed a little self-consciously, rubbing the back of his neck. "You know you can tell me about things like that, right?"

"I don't want to bug you." You grumbled, startled when his finger hooked under your chin and tilted your face up. He looked oddly serious.

"We've been traveling together long enough for you to know that you're never bugging me, mon coeur." Things had taken a strange turn. Were you blushing?!

"P-People always say stuff like that, but they never actually mean it." You floundered to answer him, the retort devoid of your usual wit.

"I mean it."

"Well I uh, I guess you're the exception to the rule, Polnareff. And the logical height restriction for hair, as always." Jean's expression was unimpressed. You went on to insist, "Look, it's not fair that you should have to listen to me whine just because you made a pinky promise."

"The only thing I've heard is genuine concerns. Perhaps it is your assumptions that need to change, mon coeur." Jean suggested, leaning forward just a little. "Who else have you engaged with? Who made you so willing to shoulder the burden of your fears and wave off help from anyone else?"

"No one, that's just how I've always been. I don't like bothering anyone."

"Bother me, I dare you."

"What if my hand never gets back to full speed? What if I'm stuck with a fidgety hunk of metal like Joseph, what if I can't fight anymore?!" You exploded, slamming your left fist down on the table. "What if I'm useless, Jean? What then?"

"Is that your chief grievance?" He was weirdly calm. Normally he was the one to get worked up and you were the one to rationalize him back down to Earth. You shook your head and Jean got to his feet, taking your metal hand after he paid the bill for the evening. "Come with me, mon coeur."

...

Once the two of you were back in your hotel room, Jean Pierre left you to sit on the bed and disappeared into the bathroom for a short period of time. When he reemerged, he urged you into the smaller room and you were faced with a bathtub full of bubbles.

"Get in, get comfortable, and call me once you're settled." His demands brooked no argument and you grudgingly stripped to get into the tub once he exited the bathroom. The bubbles were actually thick enough that they kept you from feeling too exposed and you blinked back tears at the realization that he had planned it that way.

"You can come back in, I'm decent." You announced after climbing into the small mountain of bubbles.

Jean returned with one of the folding chairs from beside the bed. He sat down, rested his chin in his palm, and fixed you with a stern look. "Speak."

"Just like that?" You huffed. Jean inclined his head, raising an eyebrow and simply waiting. "I'm scared, okay? I'm a big, scared, useless baby. I'm tired and I'm scared."

"What are you scared of?"

"The future, I guess. Nothing will be the same. A lot of times I wish I could go back…" You paused. "You would think after everything that we went through, I wouldn't be scared anymore. But I still am." You curled up with your knees to your chest. "I almost miss the Crusader tunnel vision, y'know? We didn't have the luxury to focus on anything besides Dio."

Jean sighed heavily. "If you had said something sooner, I...we all feel that way, you know that, yes? The rest of us were conscious and recovering while you were still wrestling with Morpheus. I would say we got a bit of a head start. Though Kakyoin and myself in particular struggled immensely, mon coeur. Kakyoin did not believe he was going to survive the battle with Dio. His wounds were...devastating." Polnareff glanced up at you, his eyes a troubled, stormy blue. "I, on the other hand, did not want to continue living with my survival built upon the sacrifice of my friends."

"Jean..."

"Avdol's arms. Iggy and Kakyoin's entire bodies, mangled and broken. Your hand. These were all prices I consider too high to pay and yet each one of you did what you needed to do without a second thought. It is...humbling." Jean chuckled mirthlessly. "Jotaro spoke with me at length about stopping his own heart in order to trick Dio into thinking he was dead."

"He did what?!"

"He had Star Platinum literally grab hold of his heart and stop it." Jean Pierre shook his head. "He's insane. Listen, the point is that we're all scared of the future. I didn't even think that I would have one, didn't dare to hope for one! I've been struggling adrift, trying to decide what I wish to do with my life now that the length of it stretches before me like so many miles of untread country road. Granted, the generous patronage of the Joestars and their Speedwagon Foundation has eased the difficulty somewhat. None of us will want for anything in this transitional period, I'm sure."

"Jean, I...I guess I got so into my own head I didn't think that anyone else could be having the same problems as me." You didn't apologize, and he didn't seem to expect you to.

"We were selfish as well, mon coeur, you cannot take the blame. I assumed Joseph would discuss things with you in private, but he must have been preoccupied with Holly's recovery." Jean's hands now rested on his thighs and you watched his metal pinky and ring finger jitter independently for several silent minutes.

"Thanks, Jean. For everything." You finally said quietly. Chariot appeared with a sound of glee, the Stand's deadly rapier raised in front of them in a perfect salute. "You too Chariot, of course!" You continued, laughing when the Stand began to preen. "I would never leave you out."

Polnareff had gone bright red at the enthusiastic antics of his Silver Chariot, the poor man sputtering in a way that was far too endearing, "Chariot, please!"

"Are you actually embarrassed, Jean Pierre? I never thought I would see the day." You teased. "You look dashing in red, I have to admit."

"You are so cruel!" He whined.

"Ha! After your little kink reveal during our quest, it's so funny to see you lose your cool over something this inconsequential."

"Kink?! Dirty talk is just...it's standard procedure in the bedroom! I hardly count it as a kink-"

"Surprise, you nerd, it's a kink." You carried on ribbing him, a massive grin on your face. "Not every kink has to be super weird or niche, you know. As long as it gets you off, it can be anything."

"How on Earth-" Jean Pierre began heatedly, his hands fisting in the fabric of his pants as he shifted forwards into 'debate position'.

"I mean, some people like when people dirty talk to them, but could never do it themselves. Or vice versa. People love that filthy stream-of-consciousness ramble. You've got the added bonus of being bilingual, so you could say a whole bunch of random words in French and I bet your partner would still be swooning!" You pointed out, unable to stifle your giggles at the flabbergasted expression on his face. "Do you like when people talk dirty to you in reply? Or are you always the one doing the talking?"

"I...I've never had anyone talk dirty to me." Jean's voice hitched slightly. "I do not...I'm rather large. With that comes the assumptions, you know."

"Well you do have a commanding presence, for better or for worse." The shake in his words threw you off just a tad. Was he upset with you? "Hey, I'm only joking around. If I went too far, tell me and I'll stop."

"Non! No, no, I just never thought about it." He admitted. "I mean, the process is…" Jean lapsed into muttering under his breath in French and your laughter returned with a vengeance. "Hush you! Laughing while I'm in crisis!" He complained, the wry grin on his face belying his words as he gave your exposed shoulder a gentle shove.

"You're so sweet, Jean Pierre. Under all that bravado, anyway."

"Sweet?! I am not--I am precise and fierce! Deadly, even!" He jumped to his feet, Chariot at the ready as he tried to pace in the tiny area. "I am a man of great skill and charisma and-"

"And you drew a bubble bath for someone so they would talk to you. Face it, you're sweet."

"I would...whenever she had a difficult day at school, I would run Sherry a bath and then sit and listen." At the mention of his late sister, your heart squeezed in your chest. You of course knew his whole sad story, but the reverent way he spoke about her never failed to spark a sympathetic reaction. She had been incredibly dear to him and, while he had dispatched her killer, it was obvious that the pain was still there. "It's a tactic that's served me well, though getting Jotaro in the tub is easier said than done." Jean tried to joke.

"You're ridiculous." You extended your metal pinky to him and he wrapped his own around it after a moment of hesitation. "You're also a good man, Jean Pierre. I envy the person you share your heart with in the future."

He stared down at you with his brow furrowed, then looked at your joined fingers. His mouth opened as if he was going to say something, but he simply sighed after a moment. His shoulders drooped. "Yes, of course. The future." He mused thoughtfully.

After you had gotten dressed for bed, Jean beckoned you close.

"Please, just let me hold you." His voice cracked at the end of his request. "No more talking." Confused at the vulnerability he was displaying, you obediently settled yourself into his loose embrace. Nothing about how he was touching you was improper, but you still felt a flush of heat on your face. Jean Pierre stared at the space over your head in silence for what felt like hours, his eyes distant and suspiciously glassy.

You brushed your fingers against his jaw and he flinched. "Hey." You whispered, "just me."

"Oui, it always has been." He replied cryptically, placing a kiss on your forehead. "I'll be alright. Thank you for letting me hold you."

"Trust me, the pleasure's all mine."

"You like being held, mon coeur?" He sounded startled.

"Only when you do it." You yawned, snuggling closer. "Anybody else'll get their ass kicked."

His hand was trembling when he cupped the back of your head and you felt the breath leave his body in a long, shuddering exhale. "Bonne nuit, mon coeur."

…

You woke before him, as ever, but this time you didn't leave Jean's arms. You just studied him from your vantage point, taking in every tiny detail. So involved were you in the play of shadows on his collarbone, it took him clearing his throat to realize that you too were being watched.

His eyes were barely open, still heavy with sleep, and you prayed that he wouldn't remember catching you ogling him. Jean didn't say anything, instead resituating you in his arms to better press your body to his own and burying his face in your neck. One powerful thigh slid between your legs and you were startled by the rush of heat you felt from such an innocuous motion.

That was nothing compared to when he groaned, his voice deeper than usual with sleep, "Tu es si jolie mon coeur." Large hands carded through your hair blindly. "Tu es si précieux pour moi."

"Jean?" You murmured.

There was a sharp inhale right next to your ear and then he drew back, looking befuddled. "I...what?" He asked drowsily. "G'morning, 'allo."

"Good morning. How do you feel?"

"Warm. Still tired." He tucked his face back into your neck, sighing. "Shh. Sleep."

"Jean, I-"

His body shifted as he stretched, pressing the rigid muscle of his thigh up in between your legs. You squeaked and that definitely got his attention. Blue eyes met your own, confusion evident on his face. Those eyes traveled down to the sheet over the two of you, and then they widened in comprehension. His own undignified yelp made you start to laugh hysterically, burying your face in his chest in a losing effort to contain your mirth.

After several tense seconds he started laughing too, peppering your cheeks and nose with playful kisses. "What a wake up call! I could get used to that." He chuckled, leaning in to kiss your nose again.

You tilted your chin at the last second and Jean's mouth landed on your own. He gasped against your lips, obviously startled but not recoiling. Hope flickered in your chest as his mouth stayed where it was, like he was frozen.

"If you want me to stop, tell me." He breathed finally. "I would like to give you a real kiss. I'm going to do so unless you tell me to stop."

"Why would I tell you to stop?" You whispered.

Jean's hands cupped your face, one thumb rubbing your cheek while he searched your eyes. You glared back at him defiantly and he looked torn between laughter and tears, finally closing the distance once more.

His 'real kiss' left you reeling, gripping his upper arms for support while he ravaged you with his mouth. Jean Pierre Polnareff always gave his all in everything he did, so you shouldn't have been so surprised. It was different when it was focused on you, though. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that, mon coeur." He murmured after he decided it was time for you to breathe again. "Feeling your body react to me is...it's incredible. Intoxicating."

"Holy shit," You said weakly in reply, "I guess you aren't all talk."

"The talk is the best part of me, mon coeur." His mouth brushed over your ear, making your whole body break out in goosebumps. "Everything else is just window dressing." You snorted and you felt him smile against your neck. "I love it when you do that."

"What, when I mock your attempts at being suave?"

"Non, can you really still call it nothing but an attempt when I can feel how your heart pounds in your chest?" Jean teased you, making you smile broadly and giggle with more than a touch of nerves. "I meant when you smile or laugh at something I've said. It makes me happy, knowing that I did this." He continued sincerely, brushing his index finger over your lips. "Knowing that I put this enchanting expression on your face...there's no greater prize for me, mon coeur."

You ducked your face into his chest, thoroughly flustered and mumbling denials. Jean pressed light, tender kisses to the crown of your head, letting you work up some resolve. Quickly, so that you wouldn't have time to panic and rethink your bold move, you darted up and planted a kiss squarely on his lips. Jean made a delighted noise, his fingers back to combing through your hair while the two of you shared a heated exchange.

"I feel like the luckiest man in the world." Polnareff's voice was nothing but a heartfelt sigh, his forehead touching your own. His smile was so wide it looked like it hurt, his joy barely contained. You smiled shyly up at him, your metal fingers curled into a loose fist on his chest. "Stay with me, mon coeur? I cannot guarantee you an easy or safe life, this much you know. I am selfish and headstrong and entirely full of myself, but I will do everything in my power to make sure that the burden of the power we share is a light one." He promised solemnly, his thumb rubbing over the knuckles of your metal hand.

You bit your lip in thought, looking down at your joined hands. His metal pinky hooked around your own in a sort of playful, teasing gesture. Remember when, it seemed to say. It made you smile again and you felt the tension go out of his body when you tipped your face back up and kissed the underside of his jaw. "I guess I could be persuaded to stick around for a little while." You allowed.

"Only a little while? Isn't there anything I could do to get your...attention for just a touch longer?" Jean asked hopefully, his hands starting to wander a little lower on your body.

You straddled his hips and sat up, cupping his face to keep his eyes focused on your own. "What does mon coeur mean, Jean Pierre?" You queried, your tone saccharine-sweet.

The large man actually squirmed, his face going bright red as you put him on the spot. It was quite possibly the cutest thing you had ever seen. "It is, er...it's a term of endearment." He choked out finally.

"Yes, but what does it mean?"

"I...It means…listen, I don't know if it's too early to be saying these kinds of things. Are you positive you want to…?" Jean's question seemed to die in his throat at the rapid nod of your head and the man heaved a long sigh, dramatically covering his face with his hands so you couldn't see his expression. "It means 'my heart'. Because I...I have loved you for a very long time. You have my heart--non, you are my heart. It is so silly, but I-"

"Oh thank God!" You erupted, probably startling him judging from his incredulous look. "I've been so worried it was another shitty nickname like Le Canon De Verre, you have no idea."

"Merde, of course not! I learned my lesson. You are...you are not upset that I have been calling you my heart, are you?" Jean mumbled awkwardly. "It is a common term, I can come up with something el-"

"Shut up. It's perfect." You took a deep, bracing breath. "I love you too, Jean."

"Are...you are serious, yes? If you are not, you don't need to say it back. I am a grown man, I can handle a little rejection." He insisted bravely.

"Yes, I mean it. God Jean." His embrace crushed the air from your lungs and you wheezed out a chuckle, smacking his shoulder. "Easy on the goods, Pol." Jean ran his fingers through your hair, tears in his eyes. "Don't cry Jean, c'mon." You chided with a grin.

"I can't help it! This is the happiest moment of my life!" He announced tearfully. "I love you so much! I have loved you since before you got angry with me! Maybe it was love at first sight?!"

"Maybe for you. Weirdo." You teased, rumpling his hair (much to his indignation).

…

He danced around the topic of being physically intimate for what felt like months. If the kissing sessions got too hot and heavy, Jean was always the one to calm things back down. At first it was mildly entertaining to be soothed and cooled off by such an irreconcilable flirt, but soon you began to wonder.

Does he actually love me or was that a bunch of talk? Does he regret the choice? Is he just trying to let me down easy? Does he feel indebted to me?

You would get your answer in due time. As with all things related to Jean Pierre, he demanded the perfect setup.

"I've been thinking." You started carefully one evening. "About us."

Jean immediately glanced up from his guidebook, looking almost guilty. Almost. "Yes?"

"I...Jean, you do love me, right?" All your tact went out the window, your confidence soon following. You just stood there, twisting the hem of your sleeping shirt while you tried to stop your lower lip from quivering and your words kept pouring out, "I just wanted to know whether you...um. Whether you want me. As in...well, sexually, I guess. We kiss and hold each other a lot but it seems like every time we would be getting to that point, you put the brakes on." Your fingers threatened to tear a hole in the thin cloth of your shirt. "I mean, it's okay if you don't! It's okay if you want to go back to the way things were. I promise I'll get over it. I don't want to lose you, even if it's only as a friend."

Jean snapped the book shut and lunged upright, his expression gone stony. With two strides he had crossed the room, opening his arms and enfolding you tightly in his embrace. "Mon coeur, my heart, my everything." He whispered into your hair as you sniffled. "I want to ravish you until I consume your every thought as you do mine." Your breath caught in your throat at his heated words. "I want to pin you down and give you everything, every last pitiful scrap of desire that I have for you. I didn't want to scare you, mon coeur, but I have such a voracious hunger for you and...and if you want me as well, you can have as much of me as you wish to take."

Jean pressed his forehead to your own and you took the liberty of mussing his hairstyle with glorious disregard, your fingers raking through his impeccably-styled tresses gleefully. "I want it all." You breathed. "The whole nine yards."

"God, I am so glad. I am so very, very glad." Jean said in reply, his voice sounding strangely thick. "I did not want to rush you. I am well aware that I have a reputation, and I do not know...how far is acceptable to you?" His hands hovered at the hem of your sleeping shirt.

Your answer was to untuck his tank top, gently easing the tight-fitting garment out of the waistband of his pants and shoving it upwards. Jean's body trembled at your touch, a sharp inhale leaving him when you boldly splayed your metal palm on his newly-bared abdomen. You stared up at him, loving how disheveled he looked with his hair askew and tank top hoisted up to his chest. "This is mine now." You said softly.

His moan and the helpless, adorable blush that accompanied his nod of confirmation was all you needed to continue urging him to shed his tank top. Jean did so hastily, clearly eager to show off more of his form. Distracted as you were by ogling him, you barely noticed his arms back around you until he lifted you up. Jean laughed aloud at your squeak, rubbing his nose against your own. "Wrap your legs around my hips, mon coeur." He purred. "Feel as much of me as you would like."

You were only too willing, greedily drawing your hands over his shoulder blades and pulling yourself as close as you dared.

Jean surged forward to close the space between you, nuzzling into your neck with an aching sweetness that was both foreign and familiar at the same time. "You are so beautiful." He said simply, making you flush and squirm a little under the attention. "I am so happy. So incredibly happy."

"Show me then." You replied with a mischievous grin, squealing a second later when he blew a raspberry against the skin of your neck.

Jean laughed again and moved to lay you on the bed, pulling away briefly to study you beneath him. "I can't believe that this is real." You wriggled out of your underwear when his fingers reached for the elastic band, already too excited to let him peel them off unaided. Jean lifted the hem of your shirt and touched it to his lips, the gesture reverent and teasing all at once. "Can I put my mouth on you, mon coeur? Will you permit me?" He asked softly.

"I am going to actually burst into flames if you don't." You admitted, getting the tall man to shoot you an unbearably cocky smirk. It was softened considerably by the wonder in his eyes, like you were the most incredible thing he had ever seen.

Jean urged your legs apart and settled between them, his smirk broadening further when he realized that your thighs were shaking slightly. You covered your face with your shirt, thoroughly embarrassed, but Jean tugged it back down. "Please, don't hide from me. Ne te cache pas de Jean, s'il te plaît." He implored you.

"You know I have no clue what you're saying." You replied breathlessly. Jean didn't bother to translate, lavishing the sensitive skin on the inside of your thighs with soft kisses and nips. You buried your fingers in his hair, none-too-subtly trying to guide his mouth to where you wanted it, but Jean wasn't budging. "Jean-"

The way your voice cracked seemed to fuel his fire, Polnareff glancing up at you with a dazed expression before he attacked your drenched folds with his skilled tongue. He was methodical and brutal, thumbing lightly at your clit while your body arched into the flat press of his tongue. Jean devoured you enthusiastically, making sounds you would have been embarrassed of at any other time had you not also been making highly embarrassing sounds.

"À toi, pour toujours." Jean gasped when you came apart beneath him, reaching up to fondle one of your breasts through your shirt. "Mon coeur, je suis amoureux."

"Y-You'd better not be saying something mean--" Your threat was ruined by how hard your breath was hitching, coming in shaky bursts as you rode out your orgasm.

Jean Pierre languidly shifted his weight until he knelt over you on the bed, pressing his fingertips to his mouth and then touching your lips. "I said, I'm yours forever, my heart, I'm in love." He replied, sounding a little breathless himself. "Too much, yes?"

"I said I wanted it all, didn't I?" Your rhetorical question hung in the heated air between your bodies for barely a split second, fingers already dragging at the buckle of his belt. Jean groaned low in his throat when you opened his zipper, revealing his cock trapped against his stomach by the waistband of his boxers.

"It seems to always be like this when I'm around you." He confessed, unable to meet your eyes and instead focusing on your hand rubbing him through his boxers. "Sleeping in particular is so difficult, mon coeur. Your body, warm and pressed against mine…but I am not some spoiled boy without an ounce of self-control. So I prayed for the dawn like a damned man. Prayed for the courage to tell you, the patience to wait." He chuckled ruefully. "To think you would outstrip me all the same."

"I think we've both waited long enough." You pointed out, feeling him rock down into your waiting palm.

Jean flushed a little, biting his lip as you slid his boxers out of the way and freed his cock. "Will you let me?"

"I keep telling you I want it all. I'm greedy for you, Jean, c'mon." You chided him, startled when he shook his head.

"It's not enough to say it."

"I guess I'll just show you I mean it then." Jean raised an eyebrow at your tone. You lunged up to kiss him, clinging to his waist as you ground your aching pussy against his cock. Jean actually growled, the sound reverberating in his chest while he eagerly reciprocated your grinding motion. "I want you, Jean. I want everything you can give me."

"Since you asked so nicely." Jean Pierre palmed your thighs and dragged you even closer to him, kissing you fiercely. His mouth dominated your own easily, your legs falling open for him as you welcomed him into your body.

Jean buried his face in your neck, panting for breath while you adjusted around him. Your calves quivered and jumped noticeably when he cupped them, shoving your knees up and over his shoulders to leave you entirely at his mercy. You whimpered helplessly, covering your face with your hands again.

"Mon coeur, my love, my everything, please don't hide from me." Jean begged, his voice ragged with desire. "Let me see you, let me know you."

"It's so good, I feel so embarrassed." You replied through your fingers, shaking your head.

"Why be embarrassed?"

"I...I don't know, really. I guess it's the way you look at me. Kind of like I'm being examined under a microscope." You mumbled.

Jean rolled his hips, settling his cock even deeper than it had been previously. Your lips popped open without your input, eyelids fluttering closed. "Do you want me to stop?" He whispered.

"You're so mean." You managed to sputter. "No, I definitely don't want you to stop."

"Are you not enjoying what I'm doing?"

"Oh my God, Jean-"

"There is nothing to be embarrassed about if you like what I'm doing, so what could it be?" Jean's smirk could have given the cat that ate the canary a run for its money, your continued pitiful attempts at indifference doing nothing but bolster his confidence. "Is it maybe...that you like what I'm doing, but you think you like it too much?"

"Polnareff-"

"My last name in bed, how formal of you!" He teased, coaxing an exasperated half-giggle out of you. "I have encountered this before, of course. I will tell you a secret." His lips barely touched your ear, eliciting a shiver. "No one else is here but us, mon coeur. Which means you are as free to enjoy me as I am to enjoy you. I understand that some moron before me has given you the impression that you should be silent or not enjoy this...delicious intimacy. Whoever they were, they were an inconsiderate, selfish liar."

"You are the first person to put your mouth on me. D-down there." You confessed.

He straightened up, looking absolutely scandalised and shrugging your legs off of his shoulders. "But you came so easily for me! Surely someone...no? No one?"

"Nope, not a one."

"Vile, inconsiderate selfish pigs." Jean lapsed back into French, grumbling under his breath and rolling his eyes. He then slid his arms beneath your shoulders, his large form effectively looming over you. You yelped when he picked you up bodily, hurrying to wrap your legs around his waist like you had earlier. "Relax, mon coeur. I won't let you fall." Jean promised, sounding amused. His cock twitched inside you, making you whine. "Oh, that's a lovely noise."

"You can't say stuff like th-at!" You tried to protest but your voice pitched higher as he settled you onto his hips, sheathing his cock to the hilt. He raised you slightly, then lowered you back down again. His careful, even pace was tortuous, your pubic mound pressed firmly to his abdomen while he slowly fucked his cock in and out of you.

"I will not go any faster unless you tell me how you would like it." Jean didn't even seem like he was struggling for breath. You, on the other hand, were gasping out with every thrust, your fingers digging into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks. "You have to tell me, mon coeur." You buried your face in his neck and he shuddered all over, laughing a little. "Is it too much? You are clinging to me so tightly."

"You are absolutely terrible." You muttered, taking a handful of his hair and roughly tugging his head to the side so you could mouth over his ear. Jean's breathing hitched when you finally bit his earlobe and shakily murmured, "please fuck me."

"Oh," Jean sighed, "I would love nothing more." When you arched against him he made a wrecked sound in the back of his throat, thrusting up to meet you halfway. "How could I ever not want you, mon coeur? Now that I've had a taste, I am drunk on you." He said it like it was normal, regular. Maybe to him it was. Maybe things like that came naturally to him.

You cupped his face, suddenly seized by a fierce tenderness that demanded to be expressed. "You're amazing." You choked out bluntly. Jean's eyebrows rose and he seemed genuinely surprised. "You're perfect. You make me feel incredible and you're so, so wonderful to me-"

Jean sputtered, now clearly bewildered. His flush reached the tips of his ears. He cradled you to his chest, helping you ride his cock even while he continued to silently color. "These things you are saying to me…" he breathed, sounding shattered. "You believe them?"

"Jean-!" You cried, resting your forehead against his. That appeared to be what he had been waiting for. You watched as his eyes narrowed and he bit his lip so hard the pink skin faded to white.

"You want it all? It's yours." Jean rutted up into you, stealing the breath from your body with the ferocity of his motions. "Every inch--every breath, every feeling I have, is yours. It's yours." His grip on your hips tightened when one of your legs slid down, the rough press of the large scar on his thigh grounding you.

"Thank you…" You barely had the presence of mind to speak, your brain hazy with ecstacy, but you forced the words out anyway. You laced your fingers through his hair and cried out again as the ache in your body blossomed, trying to come to fruition. "God Jean, I'm so close, please-!"

His laughter was a ragged, broken noise and he buried his face in your neck once more, feverishly pistoning his hips to bring you to climax. You raked your nails down his back when you finally came and Jean clumsily rushed to pull out, barely able to do so before he reached his own orgasm. Thick spurts of come landed on your abdomen, the large man's entire body trembling violently.

The two of you were all but gasping for breath, staring at each other while he tensed up and tried to stop shaking. "So…" you drawled after several awkward seconds. "That was phenomenal."

Jean lit up like a firework, quickly laying you down on the bed so he could lavish you with kisses. "Truly?!" He asked excitedly. "You're not just saying that, right? My feelings will not be hurt if I have room to improve, you understa-"

"Jean, I don't think I can move. My legs feel like I went on a hundred mile hike." You clapped a hand over the scar on his thigh. He was still trembling. "Are you okay? I know that must have been a lot of effort."

"I will be alright. I don't think I've ever come that hard." Jean admitted, grimacing as he slid a finger through the coating of his release on your stomach. "I'm afraid I've made a mess of…" He trailed off when you licked the substance from his index, his eyes darkening. "You accuse moi of teasing, mon coeur?"

"Well yeah, you're ridiculous." You stuck your tongue out at him, blowing a raspberry. Jean rolled his eyes and flopped down on top of you, making you wheeze for air. "Jean wait, you'll kill me-"

He raised himself back up on his elbows, one finger tracing a careful line down the bridge of your nose. "We should shower, no?" He suggested softly.

"We should shower, yes." You agreed.

"Come then, let's get cleaned up. And then we can sleep together. Wake up together." Jean's smile was beaming. "Like we should have been all these months, yes?"

You teared up a little at his sincerity, smiling back at him. "You got it, big fella'."

He didn't make a move to get off you though, continuing to study you. "You are so beautiful like this." It was almost as if he was talking to himself, his expression blissfully content. "I am truly the happiest man alive, even with my heart living outside of my chest."

"You are outrageous-"

"I cannot wait to outrage you every day for the rest of our lives, then. Though I may have to take it down a notch or two, at least until we've grown accustomed to one another." He kissed you, laughing into your mouth. "Your eyes are sparkling again, mon coeur. Are you exasperated with me?"

"Every second of every damn day." You huffed, trying and failing to fight your own smile.

"Wonderful. I would have it no other way."

#jean pierre polnareff #jean pierre polnareff/reader #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #Stardust Crusaders #holy cow #this got so long #I had a lot of fun #behold my indulgence #I love one (1) giant french man #title taken from Queen because shit it's JOJO I have to #everyone lives au #I'm barely on episode ten of Golden Wind and I'm having a great time #I love JoJo so much #stardust crusaders spoilers

[dragonsaphirareads]

I Am Creativity (Chapter 1/5)

Crossposted on AO3 under the same name!

“I knew you were insane but this is just ridiculous, Remus.”

 “Aww, c’mon, I thought you liked my ideas!”

 “This hardly counts as an idea - more like a suicide mission.”

 “I’m more powerful than you think, Dee. I can handle my brother!”

 “Don’t try and fool me. You’ve been losing power for weeks, what makes you think now is a good time for this stupid plan?”

 “Deceit’s right - you need to wait until you have your strength back! I could step in and make Thomas tired so you’d be able to play with his nightmares!”

 “Come on, you two, I’m Creativity! This idea will work, I can guarantee it!���

 “You’ll be endangering Thomas. I can’t allow you to do this right now.”

 “Well, it’s a good thing you can’t stop me then! This doesn’t have to do with Thomas knowing anything, so you’re out of your element here!”

 “Argh... Obsession, say something, this cannot happen!”

 “...You’re going to lose, Remus. You realize that, right?”

 “I’ll do my best!”

 It was a quiet day in the mindscape. For once, the sides felt content. There were no huge issues in Thomas’s life that needed addressing, and they were able to spend some quality time together in the common area. Patton was flitting about in the kitchen, baking a fresh batch of cookies. Virgil was curled up in his chair and half asleep, warm and comfortable from lunch. Logan had a new book he was already halfway through, and Roman had a fresh script in his hands, already covered in his scrawling, curly handwriting. 

 Of course, it wouldn’t be a day in the mindscape if something didn’t come to cause trouble. Specifically, this “something” came bouncing down the shadowy hallway that lead to the dark sides’ territory, his steps loud and obnoxious.

 “Oh Roooomaaaaaan~” He called out in a singsong voice, putting those in the common room immediately on edge. Virgil shot up out of his chair and was on his feet in an instant, vaulting over the side of the couch to put himself between the newcomer and Roman. Patton froze, a tray of steaming cookies in his hands. Logan sighed, bookmarking his place and closing his book with a snap, standing and facing Remus calmly. 

 The darker side of creativity waltzed right up to the couch, completely ignoring the defensive positions Virgil and Logan had taken. He stared right past them, grinning widely at his brother. “Roman!”

 The prince sighed, not looking up from his script. Over the past few months, he’d grown less scared of his brother. Now, he was just a minor nuisance, even though his friends seemed to think otherwise. “What do you want? I’m busy, I don’t have time to mess around.”

 “Aww, the great prince Roman doesn’t even have time to play a game with his only brother? And I came all this way!” Remus pouted, putting his fists on his hips. Roman glanced up, eyebrows raised. 

 “A game? What are you talking about?” Remus grinned again at Roman’s question, and he spread his arms out widely.

 “Why, none other than a duel of our minds! Just like old times! You do still remember how to play, don’t you?”

 Roman squinted at him, putting down his script carefully on the coffee table. “Of course I do, I came up with it! But you haven’t wanted to play since you left, why are you showing your mustached mug now?”

 “Whaaat, I can’t request a friendly game?”

 Virgil stepped forward, getting in Remus’s face and sneering. “No, you can’t. Roman isn’t interested in playing any of your sick, twisted games. Now get out of here before we make you!”

 “This doesn’t concern you, emo.” Remus said it with a smile, but his voice was cold. “Besides, you should hear me out. I think you’ll like this idea very much.”

 Finally, Roman stood and walked over to his brother, crossing his arms and straightening his back to try and force any extra height he could. “Just tell me what you want.” Roman said, wanting to just listen to whatever bad idea his twisted brother had come up with and get it over with. 

 The dark side grinned, flourishing his arms and putting his chin in his hand. “We’re both Creativity, aren’t we? But lately, Thomas doesn’t seem to need both of us. One would be more than enough. So, I’ve got a bet for you, my brother. We play our old game, by our rules, and whoever wins gets to be Thomas’s one and only Creativity! Sounds like a pretty good deal, doesn’t it?”

 Virgil spluttered, holding a protective arm out in front of Roman. “No deal, you sneaky rat. Roman is already Thomas’s creativity, and he’s got nothing to gain and nothing to prove to you!”

 “Virgil—“ Roman tried to say.

 “I bet this is just another one of Deceit’s plans that you’re tagging along with, isn’t it? Well you can count us out, we’re not gonna play along with anything you want!”

 “While I appreciate the credit, I’m not responsible for Remus’s actions this time around.” A smooth voice came from the dark hallway, and the sides whipped around to see Deceit and another shadowy figure lurking behind him. The snake had his arms crossed, and an uncharacteristic scowl across his face. “Let’s go, Remus.”

 Remus giggled.

 “He thinks this is a bad idea. But I didn’t ask your opinion, did I?” Remus sneered towards his fellow dark side, to which he received rolled eyes. Patton winced, putting the tray of cookies down and pulling off his oven mitts slowly.

 “You’re... not behind him being here?” He asked cautiously. Deceit shook his head, and behind him the other dark side snickered. 

 “Oh no, I’m perfectly alright with sending one of my friends off when it’s certainly going to get them killed, I do it every week!” Deceit answered sarcastically, staring straight at Remus. 

 “You have such little faith in me, I’m hurt!” Remus put a hand over his chest dramatically. Then he turned back to Roman, grinning madly. “C’mon, if Deceit thinks I’ll lose then I’ve got no chance! One game, Roman, and I’ll be out of your hair forever.”

 Roman stared at his brother. His eyes were wide and teeth showing. On someone else perhaps it would look innocent, but not with Remus. He just looked wild. His own mind was racing, trying to figure out what in the world he wanted. 

 He knew he had everything to lose in this wager. Thomas already considered him his “main” creativity, even after learning about Remus’s existence. His host had been happier than ever with his contributions, and he knew that losing this game would mean losing everything for Thomas. He could only guess what Remus would turn his channel into if given the chance. 

 There was very little Roman could gain from this. If he could trust his brother’s word - which he knew he could, the one good thing about him was that he never lied - that would mean Remus would disappear. He wouldn’t show up when he wasn’t wanted, he wouldn’t make a fuss. He would stop messing with Roman’s ideas and leave Thomas alone for good from his unpleasant idea of ‘creativity’. 

 For some reason, that thought made him angry. He opened his mouth to tell him off, to tell him to go back to his dark cave and leave him alone. 

 “Roman, don’t you dare!” Virgil growled. The prince looked at him, nose wrinkled. Virgil really thought he’d be stupid enough to take this obvious bait? Sure, he was reckless, but even he wasn’t dumb enough to--

 “Aww, would you look at that Roman? Your friends think you’re so weak you can’t even defeat little old me in a game you created! Maybe they’re right though, it has been a long time, I might actually be stronger than you!”

 “Excuse me?!” Roman screeched. 

 “Roman!” Logan warned, his tone steely. He and Virgil both tried to hold out their arms to block him, but Roman stormed past them, getting up in his twin’s smirking face. 

 “You are not and have never been better at creating than I am! I could beat you with both arms tied behind my back!” Roman immediately regretted his words as his brother’s smile grew, and he heard three collective groans from around the room. 

 “Ooh, kinky~ Why don’t we put that to the test, then?” Remus waved his hand, and suddenly Roman found himself in the middle of a sunny field, squinting against the harsh light. Virgil and Logan landed unsteadily, and Patton stumbled and fell in a heap with a soft ‘oof’. A few steps away, Remus stood with the other dark sides behind him, who were trying to regain their balance as well. 

 The Imagination. Roman swallowed. Shit, this was not what he’d meant to happen.

 “So, dear brother of mine, we’re here! We just need to get you ready!” Remus grinned, waving his hand again and conjuring a length of rope and hanging it from his fingers lazily. Roman’s eyes widened, and he took a step back, trying to keep his voice strong. 

 “I said I could beat you with my arms behind my back, I never said I would! Can you imagine how embarrassing it would be to see you beaten with me limiting myself like that? Don’t worry, I won’t go easy on you, so you’ll have an excuse ready when I win.” Roman tried not to notice Deceit’s eye twitching behind Remus. Curse him and his ability to detect lies.

 The dark side of creativity rolled his eyes but let the rope drop, where it disappeared once it hit the ground. He looked vaguely disappointed, but shrugged. 

 “You're no fun! Fine, it doesn’t matter. Your dull creations are no match for me, handicap or no. I’ll give you a few minutes to set your friends up with a viewing platform. I know they’ll want to watch as I beat your sorry butt into the ground!” He said with a laugh and a shoulder wiggle. 

 Roman watched him for a moment before he felt a hand on his shoulder and he was spun around to meet face to face with a very angry Virgil. 

 “What the hell are you thinking, Princey!? Have you somehow forgotten that he’s the embodiment of Thomas’s bad creativity?! If you lose—“

 “We’ll lose you!” Patton finished, grabbing Roman’s hand and gripping it tightly. There were tears in his eyes and his lip quivered. Roman winced. Did they really think he couldn’t do this?

 “You two shouldn’t underestimate Roman.” Logan interjected, and Virgil whipped around to face the logical side.

 “Roman got knocked out for an entire video because of him! Remus is strong, and—“

 “And that only happened because we all failed to warn him of the threat until it was too late. Now he has a chance to prepare. Not to mention he created this game they’ll be playing, so I see no reason to worry.”

 Patton pursed his lips. “What is this ‘game’ anyways?”

 Roman smiled. “It’s just like he said - it’s a battle of our minds! We used to play it all the time as kids, before...” Roman licked his lips, shaking his head. “Well, anyways, it works like this.”

 The creative side waved his hand and created a floating image, simulating a TV screen to help him explain. “I created the game as an exercise to practice creating things in the mindscape. The goal is to knock out your opponent using anything you can create in the Imagination.”

 “When you say knock out, what do you mean exactly?” Logan asked. 

 “I mean exactly what I said? If your opponent is unable to continue, then you win.” Usually it ended with a very big bruise on one of them, but he had a feeling Patton might object a lot more vehemently if he told him that. 

 Roman waved his hand and a top down image of the field they were standing in appeared. “We split the field in two, and we have fifteen minutes to get ready. We can create anything we want in our area, whether it be to protect us or attack our opponent. After we’re done preparing, we start the fight!”

 “So it’s not a battle of pure strength, but more a battle of wits?” Logan clarified, and Roman nodded. 

 “That’s right! I can’t tell you how many times one of us has won even if we had fewer creations on our side!”

 Patton twisted his fingers together nervously, biting his lip. “That sounds simple enough...”

 “You said you played this before, right?” Virgil asked. Roman nodded. “How many times have you won?”

 Roman huffed, planting his hands on his hips. “I am Thomas’s creativity! I created this game, and I am not going to lose to my brother on the other side! I don’t appreciate you doubting me, Virgil! The hero always prevails over the villain, so you have nothing to worry about!” 

 Virgil glared at Roman, anger brewing in his eyes. Instead of wasting time continuing that argument, he turned away from his fellow sides and made a grand sweeping motion with his arms. 

 A large pavilion tent shimmered into existence, staked into the ground and several comfortable lawn chairs underneath. He included more of the TV like screens so they could watch without getting too close. Roman knew they probably wouldn’t be happy about being put to the side, but it would help him focus if he knew they would be safe. 

 “Now you’ll be able to relax as I earn my rightful title as Thomas’s creativity! Make yourselves comfortable, I’ll make this a showdown you won’t soon forget!”

 Patton looked like he was about to cry as Virgil took his hand and pulled him towards the tent, keeping his own eyes fixed tightly in the ground. Roman took a breath, setting his shoulders back and cracking his neck, and turned towards the center of the field.

 “Roman... are you certain about this?” Logan asked him gently, putting a hand on his shoulder. The prince signed, setting his jaw.

 “I have to do this, Logan. This is the only chance we’re going to get to actually get rid of him. He makes Thomas upset, and if I can do something to help him, I’m going to do it.”

 “Getting rid of a side of himself is not going to help him in the long run. Remus exists for a reason - if he’s gone, the balance we currently have will be thrown off. That could negatively affect you as well.”

 Roman refused to look at him - Logan sounded worried about him. 

 The hand on his shoulder tightened. “I... can’t stop you. But I beg you to reconsider this, Roman. I don’t want you to inadvertently hurt yourself in this endeavor.”

 “I’ll be fine, Logan. Go sit down, I need to focus.” 

 “Roman...”

 “Go!” His voice cracked, and he ripped his shoulder away and walked off from his friends, trying to calm his racing heart. 

 He couldn’t let their worries get to him. He was Prince Roman, the hero who would defeat his evil twin and bring peace to the land once again. It was what his life had been leading up to - a fitting end to their rivalry.

 Why, then, did he feel so uneasy at that thought?

 ~~~

 The playing field was set. It was about the size of a football field, with a waist high fence surrounded the entire area. There were two raised towers on either end for each of the twins to survey the field. Floating in the sky above them was a scoreboard with a timer, frozen on 15 minutes. 

 Roman made his way to the center field line, marked with a green and red striped line. His brother was standing there, arms crossed and lips twisted into a smug grin. His morningstar was slung casually over his shoulder, and he tapped it impatiently as he waited. 

 The prince held his shoulders back and chin high as he walked, showing no trace of the fear that was racing through his veins. He hadn’t had a ‘Creativity Battle’ in years, and while he was confident in his abilities in manipulating the Imagination, he knew Remus had also grown in power over the years. He couldn’t let his guard down for even a second, or it would be all over. 

 “So, it comes to this. I can’t wait to see the look on your friends’ faces when I break you into little pieces like a princely pinata!” He broke into a deranged laugh, but Roman just shrugged. 

 “Laugh all you want, Captain Hook, but you should know by now that good always prevails. You’re going to regret challenging me when I come out on top!”

 Remus stepped forward and smirked, raising his free hand to pat Roman’s cheek. “Oh Roman, we both know you’re not a top.”

 Roman groaned. “Enough! I cannot wait until I can say something without worry that you’ll twist my words like you always do!”

 “Aww, you know you’ll miss me!”

 “Quit bantering and let’s go!” A voice called from the sidelines, and Roman looked over to see Deceit and Obsession sprawled out on a tattered blanket laid on the grass - it was a far cry from the fancy pavilion Roman had conjured for his friends. Obsession had his hands cupped around his mouth and Deceit was snickering. 

 Remus glanced from his fellow sides to his brother, and raised an eyebrow. “Ready?” He asked, a mischievous glint in his eye. Roman steadied himself, and looked Remus in the eyes. 

 “Let the game begin!”

#sander sides #sander sides fanfiction #remus sanders #roman sanders #creativity twins #creativity brothers #patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #deceit sanders #obsession sanders

[an-unknown-writers-world]

Breakthrough ~ Penetración

Summary: Read comes home to Santo Padre after 7 years away; longtime family friend of the Reyes’ - comes to a fight night/ bonfire with the club. Angel and the reader have a heart to heart about things; she tells him the truth about her being gone and why she came home. (Crappy summary, lol - I swear I’ll get better at these.)

Warnings: Angst, If you squint there is a little bit of fluff towards the end. Heavy discussion of abuse and domestic violence. (crappy writing, maybe?)

Word Count: 4076 (Sorry - it got a little long and out of control)

A/N:  I may not keep this story up - This is probably the most naturally flowing story I’ve ever written, probably because it hits too close to home for me. If you are domestic violence survivor I hope you know that you are strong, you are brave, you’re beautiful and you DESERVE to be loved. 

The smell of bonfire, tobacco smoke, and barbeque filled the air. You sat next to the fire and sipped on the beer you had been brought by EZ. You’d gotten a call from him asking you to come stitch up Angel after his fight. You’d known the Reyes brothers since you were a teenager but hadn’t been around since graduating high school. You recently moved back to Santo Padre after escaping a bad situation. Momma had sent you to pick up a roast from Felipe one day when you’d first come back to town and that’s where you reconnected with EZ, you exchanged numbers and gave him a lame excuse of catching up after you’d gotten settled. Well it had been two months and you never called him.

EZ had coaxed you here after telling you about the last time Angel fought in the ring and someone stitched him up; he had complained for days that it was the worst stitches he’d ever had and that none compared to yours. Growing up with a brother who was just as reckless as the Reyes boys you often found yourself cleaning up and closing wounds as a teenager. You were nervous to see the older brother; you hadn’t seen him since you were eighteen and bailing out of town. You had a school girl crush on him growing up- he was the older one, mysterious and dangerous. But nothing ever came of it and you were certain he only saw you as the annoying little sister that was always there.

“You aren’t gonna watch the fight?” EZ asked coming to stand by you, a case of beer in his hands.

“Not all that interested in watching Angel get the crap beat out of him.” You said looking up at him.

EZ laughed his trademark smile gracing his face. “He’s not that bad. Better than when we were kids.”

“He must be practicing too much.” You said standing up.

“Come on,” he said, “I’m sure you can throw him off his game some.”

“Oh, shut up, EZ. Your brother doesn’t care that I’m here. I’m the annoying little sister, remember?”

EZ raised his eyes at you in surprise. “That’s not at all how he feels.”

You looked at him completely confused by his response.

“You two should talk before you decide to bail out of town again.” He set the case on the step leading into the building and pulled a beer out.

“How did you know I was planning to leave?” You asked as the two of you walked towards the ring Angel was getting his hands taped in.

“Our parents talk lot.” He said looking over at you. “Were you going to leave without saying anything?” He asked.

“EZ, that’s not,” You started before feeling defeated. “I just,”

“It’s okay, (Y/N). I don’t need an explanation. But he might.” EZ nodded towards Angel who was smiling at you.

You returned the smile. That’s when it hit you like a ton of bricks, when you called your mother asking to come back home all she could talk about was how excited the Reyes family would be. She didn’t say EZ or Felipe who you had been closest to, but the whole family.

You looked on as Angel danced against his opponent in the ring, this night was turning out to be more than you had prepared for.

“I haven’t committed.” You said watching on the fight.

You felt EZ’s gaze fall on you. “Why not? Oregon’s a good place, your mom said something about the capital building or something like that.”

“There is no place here for me. Mom has this whole new life that has no place for me, Felipe has you back, and you and Angel both have the club. Jake is gone – he only calls my mom three times a year, if she’s lucky.”

EZ didn’t respond at first, instead looked on at the fight as he calculated his response. You looked at Angel seeing the damage that had already been done. EZ was right, he had dished out just as much if not more than he’d gotten back. He would definitely need stitches in a few places though. The boys in the ring wrestled around each other, punches being exchanged at one point they were on top of each other on the ground exchanging blows. You weren’t against fighting, you had watched more than your fair share of boxing and UFC matches and enjoyed them. But it felt different when you knew and cared about one of them.

Finally, a gun shot went off stopping the match.

“Time to go to work.” EZ said, “But, (y/n) I want you to know there will always be a place for you here- in Santo Padre, the Reyes family, this club. Always.” He finished before kissing your check and walking off.

You took a deep breath trying to brush off the heavy conversation before interacting with Angel. Him and his opponent hugged it out in the ring as club members hollered different things at them; you tuned out everyone and suddenly found yourself wishing you had drank more before the fight had ended. Angel exited the ring and fist bumped two men you had been introduced to as Coco and Gilly before making his way to you.

“Mi dulce,” Angel smiled as he approached you.

Suddenly you felt it all – those same butterflies from when you were a teenager. His six-foot three-inch frame towered over your five-foot five-inch frame. With no regard to your physical bubble he wrapped his arms around you in a hug and swung you around. You giggled as he put you back down, his hand not leaving your waist.

“EZ told me you were coming to stitch me up.” He said looking down at you.

You smiled looking up at all the damage you were going to have to fix. “Apparently you complained about the last stitch job you got.”

“She certainly didn’t stitch me up like you do. I’m pretty sure I have a scar from it.” He said in a mock annoyed tone.

“Come on, before you bleed everywhere.” You said pulling out of his grasp to walk towards the house.

He followed closely behind you, aside from Felipe and EZ you hadn’t let anyone touch you since you’d been home. Not even your mother, the only reason Felipe and EZ got away with it was because you didn’t want to explain the anxiety their touch caused. As you entered the building with him in tow you realized you didn’t have that anxiety with him, there was no fear when he touched you.

“Baby brother, can you bring me a beer?” Angel asked behind you.

“Sure thing.” He said grabbing one and walking towards where you had just sat down.

The room was fairly empty, at the moment it was just the three of you.

“Do you need anything, (y/n)?” EZ asked.

“Will you bring me another beer too please?” You asked.

“You’re gonna screw up my stitches too, aren’t you?” Angel asked with a smirk as he sat in front of you.

“Har, har.” You said faking a laugh. “Angel, I could stitch you up in my sleep.”

EZ laughed and walked off to get you a beer                    

“Will you bring me ice for his eye?” You asked EZ before he came back.

“That bad?” Angel asked.

You raised an eyebrow at him, “Like you can’t feel that?”

He shrugged, “I’ve had worse.”

EZ set the beer and ice pack down on the table, “I’m gonna leave you to it. If you need help hiding his body, just let me know.” He said patting his brother on the back with a smirk.

“Thank you.” You said before taking a drink of the beer.

EZ kissed you on the top of the head and walked out. As soon as the door closed it felt like the whole atmosphere of the room changed. Trying to ignore the feeling, you pulled the gauze and the antiseptic from your bag and turned your attention to the man in front of you.

“EZ was right,” You said breaking the silence. “Your moves have gotten better since we were kids.”

He smiled under your hand, “I’ve had a lotta practice in the last seven years.”

“I’ve heard,” I said putting the gauze to the first cut.

He flinched at the contact.

“Your momma said that you had taken up boxing yourself.” He stated

You rolled your eyes, leave it to your mother to share. “Something like that.”

“Why the interest in fighting? You hated it when we were kids.” He asked.

You thought about a way to get out of answering that question truthfully. “I didn’t hate it as a kid. I just didn’t think it was a skill I’d ever need.”

“Why do you need it now?” Angel questioned.

Well, shit, you just opened that door wide open, you thought to yourself. You didn’t answer, instead, you turned back to your med bag and pulled out the butterfly band-aids for the smaller wounds. For the moment Angel didn’t push. He let you apply the band-aids in quiet.

“You know I never thought that I’d need these skills again.” You said with a broken smile as you started to suture his last cut. “Marisol and my mom used to tell me that it would be a needed skill as an adult.”

“How long has it been since the last time you had to use them?” He asked watching you.

“About three months ago.” You replied.

“The month before you came home?” He questioned.

“Yes, around there.”

“What happened?”

“I got clumsy.” You replied instinctively. “Done. Ice please.” You said handing him the ice pack.

Angel took it but searched your eyes before placing it to his own. You were regretting the conversation that just happened. Angel wasn’t dumb, regardless of how he’d like to act sometimes. You stood up and began to clean up the bloody gauze and take it to the trash. Washing your hands in the bar sink you watched the blood clean from your hands as you got lost in a trance. Angel’s gaze never left you as you moved around the room.

You watched the blood clean from your hands, scrubbing at it even after it was gone. You remembered back to the last time you had blood on your hands. It was three months ago when you had stitched up your own cheek and eyebrow. That was the night you had enough and packed a bag in the middle of the night. You were still scrubbing at the palm of your hand when you were startled by someone turning the water off from behind you.

“(y/n),” Angel said softly.

You shook your head pulling yourself back to reality. Turning around you were struck by how close he was to you. Grabbing the towel from the counter you wrapped your hands in hoping he would let it go.

“You’re good as new, you can go join the party now.” You said attempting a cheerful voice. “EZ said he’d take me home when I was ready, so I’m going to go find him.” You stepped out from in front of him and walked towards the end of the counter.

“How long?” Angel asked turning to look at you.

His question caught you off guard, turning to look at him. “How long, what?” You asked pretending to be confused. He wasn’t stupid, but you thought that it would take him a little longer to figure it out.

Angel walked towards where you were now leaning against the counter. He stopped just inches in front of you. “How long did he hit you?” He asked.

You could hear the suppressed rage in his voice, “Angel,” You whispered in defeat. “It’s over, I’m home now.”

“How long?” He pushed.

You hung your head knowing it was pointless to resist if you didn’t tell him it would be a matter of time before he’d ask your mom.

“Four years.”

“Damn it,” Angel shouted slamming his fist on the counter.

You jumped.

“Sorry.” He came to your side. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He huffed out.

You stood there unsure of what came next.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Angel asked.

“I didn’t think I could.” You replied truthfully.

He looked at you, his brown eyes displaying all the emotions he was feeling – anger, ashamed, hurt.

“Angel I drove out of town with no intention of ever coming back. EZ was in prison for the rest of his life, my dad had just died, and I was offered a job eleven hundred miles away. I didn’t even say goodbye to you, Felipe or anyone. I just left one day.”

“I remember.” He said sadly.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t even think you’d care.” You said bluntly.

Shock covered his face, “You really didn’t know?” He asked.

“Didn’t know what?”

“Nothing, it doesn’t matter anymore.” He excused. “EZ said you’re leaving at the end of the week anyways.” He walked towards the table his beer sat on.

Just like that he iced you out. If there was one thing Angel was fantastic at; it was shutting people out in the blink of an eye.

“EZ is wrong, he didn’t have all the facts.” You said turning to watch him walk away.

“What are those facts?” Angel asked picking up his beer.

“I was offered a job in Oregon, I haven’t taken the job.” You shifted on your feet and pulled yourself up to sit on the bar. “There is no reason for me to stay here Angel. My mom, your dad and brother, even you all have moved on with your lives. I have no place here anymore.”

Angel shook his head, not looking at you. You thought about what EZ had said during the fight.

“If I’m wrong Angel,” You started but stopped mid-sentence.

He looked up at you, his eyes giving it all away. “You are.” He answered bluntly.

You said nothing but sat there waiting for an explanation. You couldn’t stay in this town without knowing for certain what you were staying for.  Angel closed the distance between the two of you; he came to stand between your legs as you sat on the bar.

“You belong here.” He said softly, “Right here, within arm’s reach. Where I can see you and protect you.”

He turned away and stepped out of your grasp and paced. “Pops said something about when you came home; your arm was in a cast, cuts, and stitches on your face. He said that you told him it was an accident, but your mom shook her head behind you. It bothered him, the look in your mom’s face. He made EZ and I promise we’d keep our eyes out for you.” He paused his pacing and looked at you. “I couldn’t let myself believe that happened to you. You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met, I couldn’t let myself believe that we failed you and let you be in that position. Or believe that you wouldn’t have called for help.” He took a deep breath as he continued with his testimony. “I should have come to you that day, I should have told you I knew. Told you that you’d be safe here, that I’d never let anything happen to you.”

He came to stand in front of you again. This time he wiped the tears that were falling from your face. “I should have told you before you even left that I love you.”

“Loved.” You said softly.

Angel looked at you confused.

“You loved me before I left.” You let out a deep sigh and closed your eyes, tears still flowing slowly down your cheeks. “You can’t love me now. I’m just shattered pieces of a girl held together by books and booze.”

“That is where you are wrong, mi amor.” He said placing a finger under your chin to draw your attention to him. He held your face in his hands, his thumbs gently wiping at the tears. “You are a survivor, the strongest of the strong.”

“Angel,” You whispered, more tears threatening to brim over.

The front door opened and EZ walked in.

“Oh,” He stuttered. “I’ll leave.”

Neither of you said anything as he turned around and closed the door again quickly.

You leaned your head forward, resting it on Angel’s chest. His arms wrapped around you and his hands splayed out on your back.

“Stay.” He said softly. “I need you to stay.”

Your hands grabbed on to his shirt as you looked up at him. You felt broken to your core, but your heart still longed for the man in front of you, the man you knew and loved as a teenager.

“I’ve loved you since you were a pesky teenager always getting me in trouble.” He said smiling down at you. “Nothing’s changed.”

You reached up and laced your fingers through his hair and pulled his face down to yours. Without a second thought his lips found yours; his lips were warm and smooth against your own. The kiss was deep and full of need and love. Tears continued to fill your eyes, they were joyful for the acknowledgement of the man in front of you and sorrowful of all the misunderstandings between you.

He broke the kiss but kept you held close to him.

“I love you too.” You said softly, looking up at him. “Ever since I was a teenager.”

He smiled and kissed you chastely. You buried your face in his neck as he held you close to him. You wanted so badly to shut him out and run away but you knew it was pointless. No matter how many times you left Santo Padre, as long as Angel was here, you’d come back. You were foolish to have left him in the first place.

“Angel,” You said pulling back to look at him. “I need to tell you this.”

“Anything.” He said looking down at you.

“I’m scared.” You professed. “I’m going to try and ruin it, I’m probably going to say a lot of shitty things when you get to close; at some point, I’ll probably even try to run.”

“I know.” He acknowledged. “That much hasn’t changed.” He smirked.

“Rude.” You said smiling back at him. “But, I’m serious. I need you to know that I want to make this work. But you scare the shit out of me.”

He laughed, “That’s love querida. You can fight and push and even run. I’m still going to be here. But this time if you run, I’m going to come after you. I should have in the first place.”

EZ opened the door again, “I have to interrupt, I’m going to get killed out here if I don’t bring more beer out soon.”

You and Angel both laughed.

EZ smiled at the sight of the two of you interlaced. “I told you to talk to him before you left.”

Angel looked between you and his baby brother slightly confused.

EZ winked at you before opening the door with another case of beer, you mouthed the words thank you back to him.

“What’s that about?” Angel asked.

“Apparently your brother has known we were in love with each other since we were teenagers.”

Angel shook his head. “The kid never keeps his mouth shut, how come he never told us.”

You shrugged. “EZ’s a good kid, probably didn’t want to see either of us hurt. I mean you were kind of a man whore when we were younger.”

“Ouch.” He said.

“Did I hurt your ego?” You laughed.

“Nah, but I had to let you think you did.” He smiled. “Come on, I want to introduce you to everyone.”

You nodded at him, he bent down to kiss you one more time before helping you down off the counter.

You grabbed your beer and walked towards the door with him; your arms around each other and you pulled tightly into his side.

“What are you going to tell them?” I asked looking up at him.

“That you’re the love of my life and I’ll stop being such an ass now.”

You laughed.

“I’ll tell them the truth.” He answered pulling the door open. “You are my love, my life and someday my wife.”

You looked at him questioningly. “Angel you can’t just tell people that.”

“I can if you say yes.”

You were still confused. “Are you saying you want to marry me?”

The two of you stood on the porch of the house, everyone he knew and cared for out in front.

“I’ve lost you once mi amor. I can’t lose you again.”

Your eyes began to water all over again, this time for a whole new reason. You put your beer on the railing and wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him. It was deep and needy, full of seven years of passion, need, and love. His arm wrapped tightly around your waist holding you to him.

A man cleared his throat next to the two of you causing you to break the kiss.

“Angel.”  The man said.

“Bish, sorry.” Angel said pulling back to look at you. “(y/n), this is Bishop, our club President.”

You reached your hand out to shake his. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

“Oh please, call me Bish. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name we’ve heard so much about.” He said shaking your hand.

Bishop looked between the two of you, it was clear by the look on his face that he was questioning the dynamic.

“You can tell him.” You looked at Angel with a smile.

“Is that a yes?”

You nodded.

“Bish, I’d like you to meet my fiancé.” Angels face lit up with pure joy at the word and Bishops face seemed to mirror his own.

The man you just met enclosed you in a tight hug, unsure what to do – you hugged him back. He kissed you on the cheek as he pulled away.

“I’m so happy for you, really.” He said looking at Angel. “I owe the prospect a hundred bucks.” He said smirking.

Angel and I looked at each other. “Ezekiel Reyes! Get your ass over here!” You yelled looking away from the men next to you.

“I like her spunk,” Bishop said to Angel.

You turned to see both of their smiles.

Maybe, just maybe you’d be able to find a fit into this family after all. Besides, what’s meant to be will always find a way to be. And it was becoming evident to you that you were always meant to be a part of the Reyes family.

“I’m going to go find your brother and possibly kill him. Help me bury the body?” I asked with a smile.

“I think Pops might have an issue with that. He loves you, but that’s his kid.” Angel smirked.

“Guess we’ll see.” You turned to walk away but Angel caught your hand pulling you back.

Bishop laughed and disappeared into the house. Angel kissed you.

“I’ve got seven years of these to make up.” He said smiling.

“We have a lifetime to make them up.” You said kissing him again.

“Let EZ live through the night.” He said pressing his forehead to yours. “I have a different idea for tonight.” He kissed you again.

You pulled away and smiled at him.

“Come on.” He said leading you through the crowd and to his bike. You passed a man you had seen a few times who was missing most of his fingers. “Chucky, will you open the gate and tell Coco and Gilly I left.”

“Can dody.” He said cheerfully as he smiled at you.

You made a mental note to ask Angel about him later, but for now, you climbed on the back of his bike and held on for dear life. He started the bike and pulled out slowly as the gate closed behind you. As he drove you through the city you found yourself thinking about how rapidly the night evolved. The man you’d been avoiding since you came home had learned the secrets of your passed and asked you to marry him all within an hour of seeing him. Some may think it’s crazy; but as Angel pointed out – it’s just love.

Thanks for reading!

Also thinking about tagging those who’d like to read regularly. If you’d like to be tagged- send me an ask <3

Work also available on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17377004

Current Tag List: @starrynite7114

#angel reyes #angel reyes x reader #Mayans #Mayans mc #mayans fx #mayans imagine #clayton cardenas #this is terrible #i don't know if I'll keep this up #this may have gotten too personal #An Unknown Writers World #An Unknown Writers World writes

[myheroaizawashota]

Me again!! Can't help it. Your writing's too damn good. Could you please do Beautiful by Bazzi ft Camila Cabello with Toshinori Yagi. Like maybe him and reader seeing each other after not seeing each other for years and he just has that internal moment of 'Shit! I'm still in love with her' I think this would also be cute

[First of all, thank you so much! I’m glad you like the writing so much! Second of all Y-E- GOD DAMN FUCKING - S. I love me a good Yagi moment and this is so freaking cute! Sorry if this a bit anticlimactic! I’m in the midst of being sick so my brain is a little clouded...I kinda slept through yesterday that’s why this bad boy is a day late....whoops!! I hope you still like it!]

Smoke and debris began to rise through the streets of the city as Toshinoris body bounced across the pavement below. Being weaker these days made maintaining his title as the symbol of peace a struggle. With a tremble he managed to push his way back to his feet, spitting the swell of blood that pooled in his mouth at the ground. His never wavering smile beginning to crack as the villain chipped away at what little strength he had left, “I haven’t had to put up a fight this good in a long time!” He bellowed trying to play down the severity of the situation at hand. With a bit of a sway from his bodys strain, he struggled to maintain the image he was sworn to uphold as he pulled his fist back in preparation to brawl. His legs bent at the knees as he readied himself to lung once more into the action of battle. “Enough games you newbie! Let’s finish this!”

Running low on power, the once great pro new this punch would be the last he had...it was a fifty-fifty shot. Throwing this one punch could entirely use the remainder of his energy, forcing him to drop the facade that was All Might these days. Knowing that out come would have a stronger effect on the world, the tiring pro found himself at a cross road. If he continued to fight this world would possibly loose the security it needed. Though if he stood by and watched, innocent lives could be at risk and he couldn’t let that happen. One smash was all it would take. Both to end his career and drop the villain. Prepared to fight, Toshinori channeled the remaining energy he had into his fist, the ever present smile on his lips fading as he threw himself full force towards the villain. His body tensed when his fist connected with empty air, the villains body falling to the ground without even tasting the hero’s fist. Did the villain drop of exhaustion? No...someone else stopped him. “Reckless as ever I see Toshinori...”

His heart stopped in his chest, the sound of that voice lulling his mind into a state of nostalgia. It’d been years since he heard that tone, but he new it anywhere. Lovestruck, his eyes took in your shape as you stood over the newly defeated thug. You were just as beautiful as he remembered. “I could say the same to you. That was a pretty bold stunt you just pulled. You could have very easily been caught in the cross fire of that punch you know.”

You gave a soft scoff, eyes soft as they fell on the man you once knew. “I think I can handle myself when it comes to you...”

His expression laid neutral as the smile on his mouth began to vanish and flatten out, his body moving closer to yours. He could tell your tone was still unhappy with him. He hoped three years time would be enough for you to mellow and forgive him....but he was seemingly wrong. As he watched you clean up the remainder of his sloppy battle he couldn’t help the twinge of heartache that rippled through his chest. You were still the most beautiful thing his eyes he’d ever laid on. It killed him to see you look so distanced. If he was being one hundred percent truthful, the look you gave him hurt more than any physical pain his body was in right now. He needed a moment with you alone, he needed to talk to you even if just for a minute. Moving just a bit more sluggish now, he reached one of those big palms of his out, laying it casually against your shoulder. “Mind if i steal you away for a moment?”

Sensibly making sure the cops could handle the remainder of the defused situation, you agreed and followed toshinori away from the battle field. It was an awkward walk out of sight of public eye. You were both uncharacteristically silent as you walked along, you giving a sigh when you were far enough away from all others. “What the hell are you doing fighting like that?...how are you even holding that form right now Yagi?! You could have been seriously hurt, or worse. You’re lucky I stepped in when i did!”

Cringing at the harshness in your voice, the sturdy hero let his eyes cast down to the ground. It wasn’t long after your mention that the others body fell from his muscled appearance, his body shaking as he frantically coughed, blood pouring down the sides of his mouth as he struggled to hold himself up. “I don’t see you for three years and that’s how you say hi?”

Before you’re mind had time to react, you’re body was along side his trying to hold him up. How could he be making jokes at a time like this. “Well maybe if i would have seen you under different circumstances Yagi i wouldn’t be so upset! I know what you were planning on doing out there...”

Those thin bony lips of his tugged down into a frown as those hallowed out blue eyes held yours. He forgot just how well you used to know him. Fighting to push himself on to his own two feet, Toshinori let a grunt fall out of his mouth “well then I’m glad you saved my rear out there....I owe you..”

Your eyes melted under those piercing blue eyes of his. It was cruel and unusual punishment for the other to make eye contact with you the way he did. You missed being under his gaze like this, but seeing him in this weakened form angered you. Remembering the way he lied to you for so long made it hard to look at him this way. Clearing your throat your hands nervously moved to tuck your hair behind your ear “You owe me for a multitude of things Yagi...don’t think just because it’s been three years that I’m not still mad at you...”

“Well don’t think just because you’re still mad at me that i don’t still love you!” He all but snapped back, immediately regretting the words as soon as they passed through his lips. The look on your face disintegrated the remainder his heart. Giving a conquered sigh, the skeleton of a man let his wavering gaze hold you once more. “I still love you....that hasn’t changed. You’re still the most beautiful thing my eyes have ever seen and there’s not a day that goes by that I’m not sorry for what I did Y/N...”

His words ripped right through you like a freight train leaving you to breathless as you stood. God damnit why did he have to be so good with words! Turning your head away from his, your teeth grit together as you tried to hold in the tears that furiously fought to break past your tear ducts. “It’s ridiculous...you can say something incredibly sweet...” you paused, your breathing struggling to maintain an even pace as you violently rubbed at your eyes “and my heart still races because as much as I’m furious at you i still love you too!....why did you have to lie to me.”

He could see the tears pricking at the edges of your eyes, immediately he moving to wrap his arms tightly around your body. While you had every right to cry in this moment, it still hurt him to know he caused you all this pain. Why did he lie? He let you believe for an entire year that he and all might were two different people....though in his defense sometimes it felt that way. Holding your head close to his chest, he let your warm tears soak through the fabric of his loosely hanging white t shirt “i don’t know...i could give you a million reasons why I did the things I did, but it wouldn’t justify my actions in the end...I know what I did was wrong Y/N...but I wanna fix it. Please. Let me take you home and make this up to you.”

His words were the just the tipping point your emotions needed, they forcing the tears to rush down your face as you sobbed into his chest. You wanted to forgive him and you wanted to wake up in the mornings surrounded by his love again. You wanted to fall asleep knowing you were safe in his arms....but you were still so hurt how could you trust him after that? Shoving him away gently you rubbed at your eyes, attempting to hold yourself strong. “I need time to think this all over Yagi...I love you so much....I never stopped loving you, but i need to do some searching before i can decide if i can trust you again...”

Unwillingly you wriggled from his arms and began walking away from the other. It left him empty to watch you walking away for a second time. He couldn’t do it. Not again. He couldn’t watch you walk out of his life for a second time. He made his mistakes by not following you the first time, he wasn’t about to make the same mistake again. His fingers reached out and wrapped around you wrist, he gently tugging you back against his chest, tears bubbling in his own eyes “walking away isn’t going to fix this...please don’t take you’re beautiful face from me again. You want to decide if you can trust me that’s fine, but decide with me. Give me the chance to prove to you I won’t pull the same dumb stunt i did three years ago...”

The tears now shaking your body, you collapsed yourself into his chest. He held you tightly as you cried for a moment, he eventually angling your chin up his lips moving to press softly against yours. You missed his lips, you missed his face you missed his everything. Maybe giving him one last chance wouldn’t be the worst idea you’ve had. Leaning back into the kiss you sighed when the other broke it, a thin index finger tracing along the side of his face “one chance toshinori. Don’t make me regret this.”

#aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #hizashi x reader #toshinori x reader #toshinori yagi #yamada hizashi #bnha requests #my hero academia #all might x reader #bnha all might

[vexedtonightmares]

La Fin Des Temps Chapter 11 (Elu Hogwarts AU)

Mardi 10:40 - “I have to take care of something”

Lucas couldn’t stop staring at Eliott, and Eliott couldn’t stop staring at him. If he wasn’t careful, this was really going to get in the way of his studies. He glanced down at his empty worksheet. Well, more than it had already. Neither of them had left the Room of Requirement until Monday morning, when they’d had to because of classes. It had been painful, leaving the haven Lucas knew was going to disappear the minute they left. Even more painful was the fact that they hadn’t been able to sneak in any alone time all day, friends asking too many questions and not leaving them for even a moment. Fortunately, and surprisingly, none of them had even considered the possibility that Lucas and Eliott had been together all weekend. Actually, now that he thought about it, none of them had said anything about Eliott being missing at all. Yann nudged his side, not for the first time during their lesson, concern shining in his eyes.

“I’m starting to understand Imane’s issues with your work ethic, man. I thought you were in the library working all weekend?” he asked. It wasn’t accusatory, but he wasn’t going to let Lucas get away with the same lie he’d been telling since Lucas arrived back in the dormitory Monday morning.

“I was working,” Lucas argued, “Just not on Charms. I had so much shit to do for Potions and Arithmancy.”

“I still don’t understand why you chose Arithmancy over literally any other subject. It’s math, dude.” Yann shook his head incredulously. Lucas shrugged. He really didn’t mind math all that much. The numbers made sense to him, much more sense than pretending they could see the future with some tea leaves like the girls did in Divination. Though, he suspected the only reason they’d all continued Divination was to be in the same class together.

“Where’s Arthur?” Lucas realized suddenly, looking around the room before his gaze landed on Eliott’s again and he blushed involuntarily.

Yann simply looked at him like he was insane. “Dueling club captain? Remember? He had some meeting with the headmistress or something. I swear, Lucas, what’s up with you these days?”

Lucas had to try very hard to pay attention to Yann, eyes moving away from Eliott reluctantly. “What do you mean?”

“This, Friday, everything.” Yann rolled his eyes, snapping a finger in front of his face to get his focus. “Where’s your head at?”

“The same place it’s always at,” Lucas said defensively, but Yann pushed on.

“I’m not buying that. For weeks you’ve been in some sort of a daze. You ditch us all the time without excuse, or say you’re going to the library and don’t show up again for hours, even days. Friday at the meeting you just disappeared and I didn’t see you again until Monday morning. You didn’t respond to texts, Instagram messages, anything.”

“I’m sorry,” Lucas tried.

Yann shook his head. “I don’t need an apology, I just want to know what’s going on with you. You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“Of course,” Lucas said without hesitation. Because he could, he just wasn’t sure he was ready. He didn’t even know what he and Eliott were, if they were dating or what, and he didn’t know if Eliott wanted everyone to know about them. Yann waited for Lucas to continue, so he did, just maybe not with the words Yann wanted. “There’s nothing, though. I swear. I’ve just been a bit out of it, I guess.”

Yann looked determined to press the subject further, but Lucas was saved by their professor asking them to pair up to practice jinxes. As much as Lucas wanted to pair up with Eliott, it would be odd for him to ditch Yann, so he watched helplessly as Eliott and Ian, another Ravenclaw in their year, moved to the other side of the room to practice. Yann followed his gaze.

“Did Arthur tell you that Eliott pulled another disappearing act?” Yann asked as they got in position. Ah, there it was. Frankly, he had been beginning to worry they hadn’t noticed. Lucas fired off a jinx, which Yann blocked with ease.

“No, he didn’t.” Lucas tried to sound uninterested, hoping Yann wouldn’t draw the connection between his and Eliott’s disappearances.

Yann sent a jinx Lucas’ way, just barely missing him and hitting the chair behind him. “Yeah, no one heard from him this weekend either. Did you?”

“Hmm?” Lucas asked. “Did I what?”

“Hear from him?” Yann prompted incredulously.

Maybe if he played dumb Yann would stop talking about Eliott. “Hear from who?”

“Eliott?”

“What about Eliott?”

“Dude, have you been listening? He was missing all weekend, even at the Quidditch match.”

“Huh, weird.”

“So you didn’t hear from him then?”

“Hear what?”

“Where he went?”

“Who?”

“Jesus, Lucas,” Yann nearly yelled in exasperation. This gave Lucas a great opening to hit him with a Jellylegs jinx, one that he’d perfected nonverbally. “Fuck!” Yann exclaimed as Lucas grinned victoriously.

“Sorry,” Lucas shrugged, not sorry at all.

“You little shit, that’s why you were acting so dumb,” Yann laughed, “You were trying to distract me, huh?”

Lucas looked around the room innocently. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Yann smiled at him and it was like everything was normal again, like it had been before Eliott had come in and turned Lucas’ life upside down. He never wanted Eliott out of his life, but it was nice for that moment to remember how to be friends with Yann without feeling the weight of things he was hiding from his best friend. The weight came back a moment later, of course, but Lucas ignored it to the best of his ability, focusing instead on blocking Yann and sending more jinxes his way.

A half hour later, when they left the Charms room, Lucas felt Eliott slip past him and put something in his hand as he passed by. Smooth fucker.

“What’s that?” Yann asked, and Lucas’ hand clenched on the small piece of paper he held until he realized Yann was looking curiously at his neck, right behind his ear. His other hand flew up to the area, hoping Eliott hadn’t left any visible marks there. Yann blinked a few times and then shrugged. “That was weird, I could have sworn there was a hedgehog…”

Lucas nearly breathed a sigh of relief. He’d forgotten about Eliott’s magical drawings. He didn’t know what Eliott had used to draw them on, but they avoided him every time he tried to wash them off, moving across his body whenever he got close. With his luck they’d be there forever, not that he minded. Lucas laughed and raised his eyebrows. “And I’m the one being weird?”

Yann rolled his eyes and waved him off. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever, I’ve gotta get to Muggle Studies. See you at lunch?”

“See you at lunch,” Lucas repeated before heading off in the opposite direction, waiting until Yann was out of sight before unfolding the piece of paper in his hand. It was a two part drawing, the right side showing a raccoon alone in a bathroom, the left side showing a raccoon and hedgehog holding hands together in the bathroom. Lucas almost scoffed at how small the hedgehog was-- he really wasn’t that small-- but was more overcome by appreciation for Eliott. On the back of the paper Eliott’s unique and untidy scrawl had written out ‘Lucas no. 1040 skips potions with Eliott no. 1432’.

Would Imane kill him? Yes, undoubtedly. Did he care, in that moment? Not one bit.

But where did Eliott want to meet him? He flipped the paper back over to look at the drawing, grin spreading over his face as he realized where to go.

As predicted, Eliott was leaning against one of the sinks casually as Lucas entered the bathroom Eliott had followed him into weeks prior. Eliott was smoking a cigarette, changing its smell with his wand every second or so. “Fancy meeting you here,” he said, blowing out smoke.

Lucas took his first few steps slow, then, unable to help himself, closed the rest of the distance between the two of them in a few long strides, smile so wide he thought his face might crack. Eliott cupped his face the instant they met, bringing their lips together in a heartstopping kiss.

Lucas wrapped his arms around Eliott’s neck, rising up on his toes to reach Eliott better. Eliott, ever the quick thinker, flipped them so Lucas was pressed against the sinks and lifted him up onto the countertop, positioning himself between Lucas’ legs. “This works,” Lucas murmured against Eliott’s lips, pressing their foreheads together.

“You know,” Eliott began, playing with Lucas’ tie, “This looks really great on you, but it’s getting in the way, don’t you think?”

“Funny, I was about to say the same thing.”

Eliott grinned and undid his own tie, leaving Lucas to do the same, discarding his robes and jumper as well. Naturally, this was the one day they both decided to wear full uniforms. Eliott unbuttoned a few of the top buttons on Lucas’ shirt as well, placing his palm against Lucas’ chest before leaving a trail of kisses from his neck to his heart. Lucas was barely breathing, breathing in gasps, one hand clenched in Eliott’s hair, the other gripping the sink beside him.

He lowered his head and brought Eliott’s face to his, letting their mouths meet once more. Nothing would ever compare to this feeling, to the taste of Eliott’s lips, his tongue, his everything. If it wasn’t a completely reckless and terrible idea to strip down right then and there, where anyone could walk in, Lucas would have in an instant.

Blinking at the thought, Lucas pulled back, muttering as Eliott moved his mouth back down to Lucas’ collarbone. “Eliott, Eliott, stop for a minute.”

Eliott stopped immediately, looking at Lucas with the expression of a confused puppy. It was adorable, but Lucas didn’t have time to appreciate it fully. He pointed to the door. “We should… I don’t know. Anyone could walk in.”

Eliott’s brows creased further. “Didn’t you see the out of order sign I put on the door?”

He hadn’t paid attention to much of anything as he’d hurried to the bathroom, tunnel vision on Eliott, even from corridors away. “Um… no,” he admitted.

“Well, I put one there,” Eliott laughed.

“Do you really think it will work?”

“Let’s find out.” He pulled Lucas in by the neck and crashed their lips together. Any worries Lucas had were immediately obliterated from his mind. Eliott’s out of order sign was sure to do the trick. Eliott unbuttoned Lucas’ shirt a bit further, sliding the sleeves off his shoulders so he could kiss them. As he did so, Lucas repeated the gesture, leaving a kiss on Eliott’s chest with each button he undid.

Eliott let out a soft gasp. “You’re gonna fucking kill me if you keep doing that.”

“Do you want me to stop?” Lucas’ lips twisted into a cocky smirk.

“No. Not now, not ever.” Lucas grinned as Eliott brought Lucas’ face up to his, exploring each others mouths like there was nothing else in the world left to explore. To Lucas, there wasn’t. Except perhaps the rest of Eliott’s body, the few lines and muscles he had left to commit to memory. Eliott’s hand brushed his cheekbone and Eliott pulled away from him just enough to exhale a small, breathy laugh.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” Lucas teased.

Eliott laughed a bit harder. “Yes, actually.”

Lucas spun around from his seat on the countertop, glancing into the mirror. “Wait, really?” He studied his reflection, catching a glimpse of a raccoon taking the hand of a hedgehog and pulling him out of view. Lucas couldn’t help but laugh himself.

“These little guys are never going away, I hope you know what you’ve done,” Lucas said seriously. Eliott leaned down to brush his lips against Lucas’ shoulder, the hedgehog resting there blushing as he did so.

He tilted his head back up, supermodel eyes full of humor and searing into Lucas. “You think I didn’t do that on purpose? You’ll be old and wrinkled and gray and these two will pop up on your bald head when you least expect it.”

“Bold of you to assume I’ll ever go bald,” Lucas scoffed.

“I mean, with all that hairspray…”

“Shut up!” Lucas pressed his hands to Eliott’s chest. “Besides, you told Yann you liked it.”

“I mostly just like you,” Eliott confessed. “Everything about you.”

Lucas blushed against his will. Eliott really needed to stop feeding his ego. At the same time, he hoped Eliott would never stop. “Wait a minute,” he giggled, “Your amortentia… the last thing was my hairspray wasn’t it?”

Now it was Eliott’s turn to go red. “No.”

Lucas laughed harder. “It so was.”

“I don’t know where you’d get that preposterous idea.”

“Mmmm, sure.”

Eliott looked down with a smile, glancing back up at Lucas through his eyelashes. “Besides, you with your cigarette smoke, ink, paint, rain… not very subtle.” Lucas pretended to be offended, hands dancing up and down Eliott’s mostly bare chest.

“So what, I had a crush on you. Turned out all right for me, didn’t it?”

“Awww, you had a crush on me? That’s so sweet.” Eliott’s eyes crinkled at the sides the way Lucas loved.

He shoved Eliott away playfully. “Oh shut up, you had a crush on me too.”

Eliott grabbed onto Lucas’ hand, and Lucas pulled him back in close. “You’re right,” Eliott admitted, “You’re just either the world’s most oblivious person, or I need to up my flirting game.”

“I’m not oblivious,” Lucas huffed.

“Then why did I have to wait four whole weeks to kiss you?” Eliott wasn’t whining exactly, but there was a neediness to his playful tone that Lucas was getting very turned on by, if he was being completely honest with himself.

“Maybe you were the oblivious one,” Lucas suggested. Eliott wrinkled his nose, shaking his head. “Me? Oblivious? Never.”

The look he gave Lucas reminded him of Ouba’s face when she wanted treats, and it was more endearing than Lucas cared to admit. “Fine, fine, we’re both oblivious, useless, disaster gays, blah blah blah.”

“I’m pan, technically,” Eliott pointed out.

“Oh, just shut up and kiss me.”

Eliott didn’t wait a single second longer, kissing Lucas again. And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Lucas wasn’t entirely sure how long they sat there, him on the counter, Eliott between his legs, kissing like the world was about to end. They only stopped when Lucas’ phone buzzed, jarring them back to the present. He was stunned to find that he had multiple messages from his friends through Instagram.

monvoisintuturo: Lulu, at least give a heads up if you’re going to skip potions

basile_simple: He’s missing again? We need to put a bell on him or something

y4z4s: What are you guys talking about? I saw him going to class after Charms

monvoisintuturo: Well he clearly didn’t make it…

y4z4s: Should we still wait for you for lunch, Lucas?

monvoisintuturo: I wonder if Eliott knows where he is

basile_simple: Oh yeah, man, add Eliott to the chat

monvoisintuturo: I can’t, he doesn’t follow me. Only Lulu can

basile_simple: I’m still confused by that

y4z4s: By what?

basile_simple: Eliott following Lucas!

y4z4s: Oh, Lucas said it was some sort of bet or something

basile_simple: That’s anticlimactic   

Lucas checked the time quickly and realized lunch was about to start. Fuck, he really needed to go. Had he and Eliott really spent the entire period kissing in the not-so out of order bathroom? It wasn’t the worst way to spend his time, he supposed.

He started buttoning his shirt back up in a rush, catching Eliott’s confused gaze as he hopped down from the counter. Shirt, jumper, robes, tie, fuck, where were all his clothes?

“Lunch,” he said by way of explanation.

Eliott still looked confused. “And…”

“The boys will kill me if I go MIA again. I’m sure Imane is about ready to kill me already.” He shivered at the thought, hoping Imane and Harriet had at least been able to vent to one another about their respective potions partners.

Finally dressed, he rushed to the door, turning around when he realized Eliott wasn’t following, hadn’t even redressed himself yet. “Are you coming?”

Eliott blushed a violent shade of scarlet. “I have to take care of something.”

“What-- oh,” Lucas began, faltering when he saw the awkward way Eliott was positioned. He laughed a little bit and Eliott rolled his eyes. “Unless you want to take care of it for me?” Eliott suggested, and it was Lucas’ turn to blush. In truth, he did want that, more than anything, but he also wanted to live long enough to do it again, so he really had to go.

“See you in the Great Hall,” Lucas said a bit breathlessly. Eliott smirked, knowing exactly what he was doing to Lucas.

“See you in the Great Hall.” Eliott didn’t move, gaze still fastened onto Lucas’ face. Lucas didn’t move an inch either, wishing to stay in the bathroom with Eliott for just one more second. His phone buzzed again, and they broke eye contact.

“I’m going to go now,” Lucas said, unconvincingly, but he willed his feet to carry him the rest of the way to the door and they did. He cast one more glance back at Eliott, memorizing the way he smiled back at Lucas, tucking the memory away to think of when they inevitably had to part for the day.

Before he could lose all his self control and run back into Eliott’s embrace, Lucas pushed the door open, tearing away the out of order sign as he did so, throwing it into a bin as he rushed to the Great Hall.

Luckily or unluckily for him, all his friends were already seated when he walked in. Eliott and Daphne’s seating arrangement protest had been embraced by nearly the entire school, though both the girls and the boys were sitting together at the Gryffindor table today. Arthur was the first to notice him walk in, scooting over so Lucas could take a seat between himself and Manon.

Imane wasn’t glaring daggers at him as he approached, but analyzing him carefully through narrowed eyes. Her stare was so intense that he couldn’t meet her eyes, feeling a bit like she was drawing some conclusions about him that he wasn’t sure he wanted her to draw. Thankfully, she didn’t say anything, just kept staring.

He tried to act casual as he sat down, but he couldn’t help but notice everyone had stopped talking, eyes on him. Manon was the first to speak, bless her, not even mentioning his lateness or anything out of the ordinary. “So, Lucas, did you hear about the--”

She was cut off by Daphne, who smiled at Lucas apologetically. “You know that the opposite house dress week isn’t until next week, right?”

Lucas furrowed his brows. He did know this, why was she bringing it up? He nodded slowly, carefully.

“Oh, cool, well then, um,” she continued, glancing briefly at Emma out of the corner of her eye, “Why are you wearing a Ravenclaw tie?”

Putain.

He tried not to look down at his tie-- or, Eliott’s, rather-- as he floundered for an excuse. “Obviously I know that your dress thingy isn’t until next week. But I thought, hey, what if some people don’t know about it yet? If I wear the wrong tie, people will ask questions, and if they ask questions, I’ll get to explain to them the inter-house unity club dress challenge, or whatever you want to call it. That way more people will participate.”

Daphne squealed and leaned over to him, pulling him into an awkward hug over the table. “Lucas! You’re the best! Why didn’t I think of doing that?”

Everyone else seemed less enthusiastic about his response. Manon and Imane exchanged a glance,-- he didn’t even want to know what that meant, though he could probably guess-- Emma narrowed her eyes once before shrugging and accepting his excuse without argument, Basile and Alexia simply looked confused, Yann looked like he wanted to believe him, and Arthur seemed to be moments away from solving a puzzle. Lucas hoped Arthur’s puzzle wasn’t close to the real reason he was wearing the wrong tie. Eliott’s tie.

Fuck, Eliott would be there any minute. Lucas had to find a way to head him off before he could make the situation worse. He pulled his phone out of his pocket to message Eliott, thankful his friends had mostly gone back to their own conversations.

lucallemant: Don’t come to the Great Hall

srodulv: i’m almost there… what’s wrong?

lucallemant: Look at your tie   

Lucas bounced his knee under the table as he waited for Eliott to respond. Just their luck. He wasn’t totally opposed to the idea of telling his friends about them, but they didn’t even know he was gay. Plus, this wasn’t the most ideal setting, and he didn’t know what to call his relationship with Eliott, if he could even call it a relationship. In all their talking, somehow it hadn’t come up.

“Where did you get the tie?” Arthur asked, and Lucas bumped his knee under the table in surprise, flipping his phone over.

“I, uh, found it,” he mumbled distractedly, trying to appear nonchalant.

Clearly, neither Yann nor Arthur were convinced. Yann pointed out, “You were wearing your Gryffindor tie when you left Charms.”

“Yeah, where did you go, anyway? Imane looked ready to kill when you didn’t show up,” Arthur chimed back in.

“I felt… sick,” Lucas tried. The boys raised their eyebrows.

“Sick?” Arthur repeated slowly. Lucas nodded.

“I think something didn’t sit right with me during breakfast, and, you know.” He shot them all a meaningful glance. Arthur choked on his food and looked Lucas up and down once.

“Dude did you shit your pants?”

“What? No!” Lucas exclaimed incredulously, breaking into nervous laughter. “But you can see why I skipped potions, then.”

Arthur snorted. “Yeah, yeah. Do what you gotta do, man. Although, it would have been funny to see Rigaux’s reaction if you shit yourself in her class.”

Lucas couldn’t help but laugh along with his friends, shoving Arthur playfully. This explanation seemed to do it for them, though, and Lucas took their new distraction with Basile’s weird eating habits as an excuse to check his phone. He had three new messages from Eliott.

srodulv: merde

srodulv: i’m guessing our friends noticed?

srodulv: what did you say?  

It warmed his heart a bit, to see Eliott say ‘our friends’ instead of ‘your friends’. He was glad that Eliott considered the girls and boys to be his friends as well. He knew they felt the same about Eliott.

lucallemant: I made up some bs excuse about helping raise inter house unity club awareness. Not sure if everyone bought it, but they let the subject drop

srodulv: oh

srodulv: not that now is the best time to… explain things, but do you not want your friends to know about us?

Lucas noted the shift from our to your. Did Eliott really think Lucas would be ashamed of him? It was too absurd to even consider.

lucallemant: No, it’s not that, I just didn’t know if you did

lucallemant: Plus none of them know I’m, you know…

srodulv: gay?

lucallemant: Ha ha, yeah, that

srodulv: no rush or anything, i don’t want you to feel pressured…

Lucas chewed on his bottom lip. He didn’t feel pressured at all, and maybe that’s why he made a split second decision.

lucallemant: I think I want them to know

srodulv: really?

lucallemant: I mean, maybe not today, but soon. This weekend…?

srodulv: :)

lucallemant: Yeah?

srodulv: yeah. does this mean i get to call you my boyfriend?

Lucas had to try very, very, hard to keep from reacting in the slightest, but he was almost positive a bright blush had spread over his face. Boyfriend. That was new, but Lucas found that he quite liked it.

lucallemant: Boyfriend, huh?

srodulv: …?

lucallemant: I think I’d like that, mon mec

srodulv: yeah?

lucallemant: Yeah.

srodulv: <3

lucallemant: Stop that, I have a reputation to uphold

srodulv: <333333

Lucas rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help the smile working its way over his face. Eliott would be the death of him. Manon nudged his side gently. “You good?” Her face looked more concerned than a smile usually warranted. Did he really smile so little that this sign of happiness made her wary?

“I’m great,” he answered truthfully, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

Her brows twitched. “Ouais?”

He nearly laughed. He’d gotten so used to only speaking French with Eliott that he’d nearly forgotten it was his and Manon’s thing first. “Ouais,” he assured her.

Lucas tried to turn his attention back to his other friends, avoiding the small smile that twitched at the corner of Manon’s mouth, basically confirming she knew more than she was letting on. “Justin Bieber? Seriously? Where is this kid, I need to have a word with him about his music taste,” Arthur was ranting.

“What?” Lucas asked. Yann showed Lucas his phone screen and Lucas nearly choked in surprise.

That was how they were playing this, then? Lucas tuned out the rest of the conversation, searching for a different song. They really were going to be the most annoying couple ever, even if no one knew it yet. Lucas really couldn’t find it in himself to care one bit, because Eliott was his boyfriend. Eliott Demaury. His boyfriend. God, he was so happy.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

AO3

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