#(which r helping me lose a lot of weight and i’m counting that as a good thing so lul)

[munsonownsmyass]

Hello my sweet Lily!

I saw the list of winter prompts and I’m strongly drawn to “Getting happily drunk off spiked eggnog” with Matthias Helvar, I can’t stop thinking of your lumberjack fic 😉

Please and thank you 😘

My sweet Ericca! I'm so happy you asked for Matthias Helvar. I love him and I hope I did your ask justice ❤️🎄

Matthias Helvar x reader

Authors note: It ended up being (probably) a little cheesy, but I hope you're all in the mood for some Christmas fluff.

Unedited, unbetaed. Just yeeted into the tumblrverse.

The apartment is buzzing with excitement, laughter filling your ears as you walk around making sure your guests are having a great time. A few weeks ago, you decided to throw a little Christmas party for your friends and a few neighbors. With the party at full swing, you already feel the nice buzz from the spiked eggnog that you’ve had a few too many glasses of. Walking past the kitchen, you see your friend Layla make another batch of eggnog, grinning at you.

“If you’re looking for your hunk of a neighbor, he’s on the terrace.” She says knowingly, wiggling her eyebrows. You just flip her off with a soft smile before you make your way outside. You’ve harbored a crush for your neighbor Matthias for a while, practically squealing when he accepted your invitation to come tonight.

You’re hit by the cold air as soon as you open the door, thinking you should have put on a hoodie or something. Looking to the side, you find Matthias leaning against the railing, a big mug of eggnog in his hands. You slide up next to him, resisting the urge to lean into him. Gently you bump your shoulder against his, making him look up into your eyes. Matthias offers you a sip of the mug, which you decline with a soft smile and a shake to your head. When he takes another swig of the mug, he loses his footing for a sec and leans into you.

“Really liking that eggnog, huh?” you ask, eyeing the big Fjerdan beside you. Matthias just laughs, surprising you. In all the time you’ve known him, he’s been very reserved. Kind and helpful, but rarely put his guard down.

“This is really good.” He grins, his words already a little slurred. He leans in closer, putting his free arm around you. For a moment you forget how to breathe as you take in his scent, his heat, thanking Layla for making such strong eggnog. “I like it a lot.”

You enjoy seeing Matthias like this, letting loose and enjoying himself. It’s hard to believe this is the same, softspoken Fjerdan you’re used to seeing in the halls. “Well, if it makes you this happy, I’ll make sure to bring you more.”

For a second he stops smiling, face all serious as he looks from you to the mug, swirling the remaining liquid. “It doesn’t.” Confused, you’re about to ask what he means when he turns to look you in the eyes. “It doesn’t make me happy.”

You take the mug from him, gently putting your free hand around him. He’s clearly had enough. “Wauw, okay. Maybe we should get you some water?”

You start leading him inside despite his protests, mumbling that you don’t understand what he means. He stops in the door, not wanting to go back inside, muttering some foreign words under his breath. The whole situation makes you giggle, seeing strong silent Matthias Helvar act like a moody child. You yank at him a final time, trying to get him out of the cold.

The terrace is slippery in the frosty weather and suddenly you fall, yanking Matthias with you. Before you can even focus on the pain in your back, you realize he in on top of you, his face inches from yours. Matthias lifts his gaze, his beautiful blue eyes looking into yours as he mumbles a soft ‘I’m sorry’.

“It’s okay, Matthias.” You say, barely above a whisper. Staring back at him, you feel your cheeks heat up under his intense gaze. The weight of him on you makes it hard to breathe, but you don’t want him to move. Having thought about this more times than you can count, you wish this moment would never end, but you know it has to before you do anything you’ll regret in the morning.

“You do.” He says, his lips quirking up in a small smile, eyes full of earnest. Swallowing, you barely manage to ask what he means, before he huffs, clearly finding it funny how oblivious you are. “The eggnog doesn’t make me happy.”

“The eggnog doesn’t make you happy.” You repeat, trying to make sense of it all. Your head is spinning, the alcohol making everything blurry. “But… I do?”

Matthias laughs, nodding as he inches closer to you, his nose brushing over yours. “Yes…” Your breath hitches as he moves closer, his lips so close you can feel his hot breath on your own lips. Putting his weight on one arm, he lifts up and cups your cheek with the other, the touch causing you to break out in goosebumps.

“Min hajefetla” he whispers softly, before inching closer. But in that moment, Layla burst out through the door, giggling with her arms around one of your other neighbors. Shooting you an apologetic look, she rushes back inside, but the spell is already broken. Matthias groans as he gets off you, helping you up as he stands.

An hour later, it’s only you, Layla and Matthias still standing. Smoothly, Layla asks Matthias to help you clean up before she slips out of the door, leaving the two of you alone.

“What did it mean?” you ask, picking up another plastic cup. When Matthias gives you a puzzled look, you step closer, pointing towards the terrace. “What you said out there. Min hajefetla?”

He blushes, barely looking you in the eyes as a soft smile lights up his face. “It means ‘My songbird’. I always love it when you sing. I can hear you through the wall.”

Turning away to hide the redness creeping up your face, you do your best on cleaning up. You’re sure he didn’t mean it, he’s not himself right now, drunk on eggnog. When he sobers up, he will have forgotten all about this, you’re sure.

When you turn around, Matthias is right behind you. Stepping forward, he cages you in against the kitchen counter. Leaning in closer, his lips almost touching yours before you stop him. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… Maybe we should wait until…”

“Until I’m sober?” he grins, a finger coming up to trace your jaw before it comes to a rest under your chin, lifting your head until your eyes meet his. “If you ask me tomorrow, I will still mean every single word I’ve said tonight. I… Like you.”

His cheeks flush and he averts your gaze, suddenly shy. Your heart pounds wildly in your chest, barely believing what he said, unable to keep your lips from curling into a smile. “So it wasn’t just the eggnog talking?”

“No.” He grins, finally meeting your gaze again. He moves closer, hesitating briefly before his lips brush against yours. You slide your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer as you deepen the kiss. You could kiss him forever, but eventually you break away for air, Matthias smiling wide as he looks at you.

“Merry Christmas.” He says against your lips, giving you another quick peck as he wraps his arms around you.

“Merry Christmas” you repeat, thinking this might be the best Christmas ever.

Tagging: @e-dubbc11 @mindidjarin @phoebe-danvers @itwasthereaminuteago @idrinkcoffeeandobsess @mattmurdocksscars @pedrito-friskito @lucy-sky

#matthias helvar x reader #matthias helvar fanfiction #calahan skogman fanfiction #matthias helvar #six of crows #shadow and bone #modern!matthias helvar

[babybluebex]

laszlo kreizler nsfw alphabet

so yeah this... Happened. the zemo version is coming soon, stay tuned! (probably tomorrow morning bc a bitch is tired lmao)

(gif credit to @lindir)

A = Aftercare.

Laszlo is such an aftercare king. He’s checking on you in every way he can think of: asking you if you feel alright, maybe massaging your hips if he had you in a weird position, offering you dinner or wine, maybe even a hot bath, if you’d like (and the bath would have special perfumed oils he had sent from Paris because Laszlo is SUCH a self care whore, he’s got soaps and perfumes out the wazoo).

B = Body Part.

His favorite part of yours are your breasts. No questions, hands down. He likes using your breasts as a pillow at night— just settling himself between your legs and resting his head on your tits is a dream he indulges in frequently. He also really loves seeing you in the new French-style of dresses that have a lower neckline, and, if you wear one of those dresses to dinner without telling him beforehand, he’s as good as gone. He’s staring the whole time and can only manage simple sentences.

C = Cum.

I think Laszlo likes to cum inside you, but he also wouldn’t mind cumming on your tits. If you’re on your knees, sucking him off, he’ll pull himself out of your mouth and almost rip your blouse in his haste to set your tits free before his orgasm rips through him. He only chooses to cum inside you if he can’t cum on your tits (for example, if you’re having slow, kissy sex and he can’t bear to leave your wet heat).

D = Dirty Secret.

Laszlo. Loves. To. Be. Degraded. From a psychological standpoint, he understands that his desire to be brought down and ridiculed is born from some sort of childhood trauma that DEFINITELY involves his father, but he just can’t help himself from getting so ridiculously turned on when you call him a dog for humping your leg while you try to sleep. Bonus points if you use his title while you do it: “Just like a little bitch in heat, aren’t you, Doctor Kreizler? You’re so aroused, you can hardly handle yourself. Are you too dumb to touch your own cock? Do you need me to do it? Oh, Doctor, what a dumb little thing you are.”

E = Experience.

Even Daniel himself has said that Laszlo has like NO experience. Laszlo got ZERO bitches (which I find hard to believe but ok whatever you say, writers of The Alienist), so, the first time y’all have sex, he’s more likely than not losing his virginity (let’s not get into the debate of “virginity is a social construct” because a.) IT IS and b.) Laszlo would lecture for hours about this). HOWEVER, these things come naturally to him. He is just Good In Bed. He figures it out very quickly, so, while you make fun of him for going a little stupid when he’s aroused, he makes up for it by bruising your cervix and apologizing later.

F = Favourite Positions.

Laszlo loves that soft, slow, kissy sex, so he’s into whatever position makes it possible for him to be inside you and to kiss you at the same time. Missionary is a go to, but sometimes he’ll have you sit on his desk and kiss your neck as he hikes your skirts up and fucks you all slow and nice.

G = Goofy.

Hardly ever? Laszlo is pretty serious most of the time, and the only time we ever see him Not Serious in the show is when he’s wasted after John’s bachelor party in season 2. So, maybe y’all went to dinner at Delmonico’s, then a ball for members of high society, and he had a little too much champagne and schnapps. He’s not like giggling and all, but his cheeks are red and he’s smiling more than usual, and calling you sweet names “Oh, mein Kätzchen” and “Meine kleine Prinzessin”. That’s Laszlo’s version of goofy.

H = Hair.

OK, my train of thought here is: LOOK AT THIS MAN’S BEARD. HIS BEARD IS NICE AS SHIT. If he treats his facial hair that good— regular trims, the beard oils we all know he uses, even if it isn't strictly canon— then his downstairs hair is nice too. Definitely soft, if maybe a little wiry sometimes (but tbh whose isn’t), and it’s a nice little cropping at the base of his cock. He also has a thin happy trail up his soft tummy, and a good amount on his chest (as we see in the show lol that much is canon).

I = Intimacy.

Laszlo is ALL ABOUT intimacy. You’ll know he’s in a ~mood~ because you’ll ask what’s being served at Delmonico’s that night, and Laszlo is like “I thought we might stay in tonight. John gave me his grandmother’s recipe for chicken soup”. He’ll light candles and pour you wine and play nice music on his gramophone, and he’ll romance you throughout dinner with little hand touches and sly smiles, until he’s kneeling in front of you and slowly kissing up your leg.

J = Jack-Off.

Honestly, he hardly does it. Of course, I’m sure he did it A LOT before he met you, but now he doesn’t need to pleasure himself anymore. He’s got you to do that. The only exception is if he has to travel for work and you can’t go with him. Even then, he’ll hold off until he absolutely can’t stand it, and then he’ll like read a letter you sent him or look at a sketch that John did of you while he whacks off; sometimes, he’ll just hold your letter to his face, and the faint trace of your perfume is enough to do the job.

K = Kink.

He likes impact play a lot (and perhaps a little roleplay wrapped up in it). On the rare occasion that his fucking is anything but soft and lovely, he’s gonna be hitting your ass and the backs of your thighs as you cling to him while he rails you stupid. Laszlo would try to hit your cheek, but he feels too bad when you wince at the pain of it. Spanking your tits is good to him too. His favorite though (and here’s where the roleplay comes in), is caning your ass. He’ll bend you over the desk in his home office and pull your skirts up past your hips, and he’ll make you count the amount of times his thick wooden cane connects with your soft asscheeks. The roleplay is, more often than not, you were his assistant who did something wrong and needed to be punished. If you miss one or forget to thank him accordingly “Thank you, sir”, he’ll focus the next hit on your thighs.

L = Location.

Either the bed or his desk. Laszlo is a little older (I don’t think we ever get an explicit age? But if we say he’s the same age as Daniel, then he’s 40 to 42-ish) so he can’t do it against a wall or anywhere too crazy (not to mention his right arm can hardly support much weight, so if he needs to hold you up, it’s probably not gonna happen). The bed is a special time for you two because of his arm; he’ll hold himself up with his left arm and rest his hand on your hip or wherever to give himself at least a little leverage. But the desk is usually easier because you can sit, or you can bend over and he can grab your hip.

M = Motivation.

He loves you and wants to worship you. It’s truly as simple as that. He loves you and thinks that you’re the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen, and he wants to show his reverence for you by making love to you.

N = No.

He can’t get into the role of “daddy”, nor can he call you “mommy”. Childhood trauma aside, he will be goddamned if Sigmund fucking Freud is correct about his bullshit Oedipus complex or whatever, so he just eliminates that whole thing entirely.

O = Oral.

He’s very good at it. He’s just… His lips are soft and his beard is good, and he’s not afraid to get a little messy with it. He’ll eat you out until he absolutely has to come up for air, and he’ll have a little bit of your wetness clinging to his mustache, but then he’s right back in it. His medical degree is also put to good use here because he remembers his female anatomy and he’s locked onto your clit the entire time. The first time you ever squirted, it was because Laszlo was nipping at your clit and sucking your wet little hole and pressing his thick fingers into you, and it was A Lot To Process, but you squirted and Laszlo came in his pants instantly because he’s like “I didn’t think women could actually do that… I thought that was a thing that penny novels made up”

P = Pace.

Again, he’s a little older, so he doesn’t fuck like some wild boy. He takes his time with you, touching you and caressing you and kissing you, and his pace is the same way. He’s slow and gentle, but has the capacity to go faster and harder if you ask for it.

Q = Quickie.

Hates them. Never. Never ever ever. If he can’t properly romance you and take his time with you, then what’s the point??

R = Risk.

Surprisingly, Laszlo is a little schemer, and he loves running a risk. He’s already looked down upon by other society members, so what’s the harm in squeezing your ass at a party? PERHAPS it’s inappropriate to get caught in a dark corner with your hand down his trousers and him kissing your neck, but it’s easy to blame it on the alcohol.

S = Stamina.

Once more, he is firmly middle aged, so he can do one round— maybe two, if he’s feeling particularly frisky. Usually, though, one is more than enough for both of you.

T = Toy.

HAVE YALL SEEN SEX TOYS FROM THE 1890S?? SHITS ARE SCARY. Laszlo does not like toys, but he understands their need for existing, so he may not like them but he tolerates them. That being said, he likes to watch you use them. LIke, he’ll sit in a chair by the bed and request you “put on a good show”, and he’ll watch you fall apart, and he’ll only come and touch you if you beg and plead for him to.

U = Unfair.

Mhm, so, in Laszlo’s mind, sex and pleasure are not just a give and take, it’s a two way street. They can (and often need to) coexist. He doesn’t like to initiate something if you won’t be able to reciprocate, so he’s not too into teasing or things. At the aforementioned parties, he’ll only goose your ass if he knows you’re 100% down for it.

V = Volume.

He’s fairly quiet. His mouth is usually really close to your ear, and you’re the only one who gets to hear his pretty little noises. The loudest he’ll be is when he’s come home after traveling and it’s felt like ages since he’s made love to you, he’s gonna come inside you, and his little gasp and moan are louder than usual.

W = Wild Card.

He is down to be tied up. He doesn’t like to tie you up, but if he’s the one being restrained, he’s all over it. It’s nothing too intense, just using a ribbon for your hair to tie his left hand to the headboard, not super tight but enough to make his fingers a little tingly, but he loves it. He loves the switch of the dynamic, how he’s fully at your mercy and you can use him however you please; usually, you just suck him off and ride him, but the endless possibilities get him hard as soon as you pull out the ribbon.

X = X-Ray.

Laszlo has Big Dick Energy, so he has to have a big dick. The best example of this sort of energy is in the very first episode after he goes and interviews Wolf, and comes to speak to Teddy, and Teddy is like “you interviewed the suspect? On whose authority??” and laszlo is like “Mine” like OH HIS DICK IS BIG I KNOW IT. He’s got an above average length and girth, but we know our man likes to eat, so some of his weight goes to his dick, so it’s like,,, He’s got a fat cock, sorry, I don’t make the rules

Y = Yearning.

Constantly. Neverending. He’s at work and he’ll catch a glimpse of a pastel drawing that you commissioned from John for Laszlo’s birthday that sits in a frame on his desk, and his heart starts to hurt from missing you. When he comes home, he’ll embrace you and kiss you like he hasn’t seen you in years, and he’ll want to hear all about your day. You have your doctor so whipped for you, and it’s a different kind of whipped than being pussy whipped. He’s, like, feelings whipped.

Z = ZZZ.

He’s a sleepy little baby after you guys finish. His eyes will be a little heavy and sticky as he’s cleaning up and caring for you (and you definitely coo at him “Oh, Las, you’re so sleepy!”) but when you’re both back in bed, our little man is circling his arm around your waist and nuzzling his cheek into your shoulder. He’s so soft and affectionate, and he’s out like a light when you kiss his forehead and tell him you love him.

#laszlo kreizler #the alienist #laszlo kreizler smut #daniel bruhl x reader #daniel bruhl smut #daniel brühl x reader #daniel brühl smut #laszlo kreizler x reader #daniel bruhl #daniel brühl

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

The Ritual of Propagation

Alright. This is happening.

I made a post earlier about having a fic that is both NS/FW and contains r*pe/non-con. This is it: "The Ritual of Propagation," first story in what will apparently be a series, "Aziraphale's Children."

You will probably not be surprised to learn based on those two sentences that this fic contains r*pe (physical and metaphysical/True Form), pr*gnancy (forced and consensual), references to miscarriage, and the usual range of violence, threats, emotional abuse, and absurd amounts of gaslighting heaped on our favorite angel. To balance it, LOTS of love and affection between our angel and demon at their South Downs cottage, navigating their way through past trauma.

Actual description:

When the War in Heaven took its toll, decimating the Legions of Heaven, there was only one way to rebuild their numbers: The Ritual of Propagation.

To Aziraphale, it was simply a duty, a task the Archangels asked him to perform countless times.

But, an eternity later, Crowley sees something far darker and more sinister in the angel's stories.

Can Crowley help his husband acknowledge the abuse he suffered? And can they find away through the pain and trauma to start the family they both desire?

Snippet is below the break, contains references to miscarriage and forced pr*gnancy, but cuts off before anything too dark/explicit.

All across Creation, the War raged. Wave after wave of loyal angels crushing the Rebellion, driving the Dissidents, the forces of the Wicked back to the farthest reaches of the universe where they belonged. Endless battles fought by the Legions of Heaven, weapons igniting the void with the Flames of Truth.

Perched on the edge of his bed, Aziraphale watched it all through the window. Little lights in the darkness, flitting about.

“You were lucky,” droned the fourth-class medic, inspecting his left upper wing. Aziraphale tried to smile, but kept his eyes on the distant battle. “Only lost three of them. A fall like that, it could have been much worse.”

“Yes. Very lucky.” Aziraphale didn’t feel lucky. He felt tired. The burden each wing carried weighed him down, sapped his energy in a way combat never had. Yet somehow the absence of weight on his wing was even more painful. “How are the rest?”

“No permanent damage. But it’s a good thing we found you when we did.” The medic turned to Gabriel, who waited at the far end of the drab, colorless room, arms crossed. “If his condition continues in this way, I’m afraid we’ll have to restrict his activities. Bed rest, supervised visits to the recreation hall—”

“I thought,” Gabriel said in a voice that made Aziraphale’s heart drop, “that he was already restricted.”

The medic sighed, flipping through a chart. “We’ll have to be more specific with the door guards. Apparently, he snuck out with a larger party.”

“I wasn’t sneaking. It was just one walk around the gardens. I missed the flowers.” While the other angels were occupied, Aziraphale lifted a hand to touch the bare patch of white feathers. “And a little exercise does so much good for them.” One of the small globes of golden light shifted, brushing up against his fingers, followed by a second, then a third. He quickly pulled his hand away, glancing towards Gabriel.

The Archangel watched him, eyes narrowed. “You can get exercise indoors. Just like everyone else.”

“Everyone else is allowed outside.”

“Everyone else still remembers how to walk!”

He pressed his lips together, trying not to shake. It wasn’t that he couldn’t walk. He was just—so— tired. “You know I… I never had these accidents when it was fifteen per wing. Perhaps if we… eased off…”

“It isn’t up to you,” the Archangel reminded him coldly. “Or to me, or to anyone else. If God grants you twenty-seven on a wing, that’s what She wants you to carry. This was a blessing,” his voice grew more heated with every word, “a sign of confidence in you. Do you understand how rare that is? How few angels have been singled out for anything like this honor? You have been given a Duty, a Sacred Task, and instead of accepting it like a proper angel, like the Guardian you are supposed to be, what do you do? Wander out of the facility meant to keep you safe, and then, when you’re good and lost, fall off the path and lose three at once.”

“I wasn’t lost, I just—”

“Aziraphale!” Now Gabriel was furious, violet eyes smoldering. “I have had enough of your back talk. Just—for once, shut your mouth and do as you’re told.”

Aziraphale shifted on the bed, turning back to the lights of the distant battle. A few of them flickered out.

“He does have a point,” the medic put in, tugging on Aziraphale’s lower right wing, where the largest of the globes hung. “Look at this— thirty. The largest clutch we’ve ever had. And very healthy, but at least eight are undersized.

“But some are above average, yes?”

“Mmmh.” The medic’s fingers flicked through his feathers, counting. “Six. But according to the notes, it used to be at least ten, consistently, every time. If you wish to prioritize strength over numbers—”

“We need to prioritize both,” Gabriel snapped, walking closer. “The War isn’t just going to wait for us.” He jabbed one of the largest globes roughly with his finger, and Aziraphale felt a tingle of fear race up his wing. He tried to think soothing thoughts, but he didn’t dare move. “Even undersized for him, they’re still well above average for everyone else. We’ll just have to watch him more closely.”

With one more disappointed glare, Gabriel ushered the medic towards the door, leaving Aziraphale alone. Or as close to alone as he ever got.

His fingers brushed the bare patch again, this time allowing the remaining globes to bump against his fingers. He could feel their curiosity, and their concern.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I am so… so sorry…”

Before the War, this facility had housed the Angels of Creation. The enclosed gardens still held their work, a wild array of plants and animals, a million varieties, the best of which would be sent to Earth when it was created. It had been marvelous to get away from prying eyes for just a moment, to see the rich array of colors, to hear the singing of birds in the trees.

But all at once his legs had given out—

Hearing Gabriel approach, Aziraphale dropped his hand, slowly pushing himself back into bed. But the Archangel put a hand on his shoulder.

Aziraphale stared for a moment, uncomprehending. “But… my wings are full.”

“Twenty-five per wing, minimum. If you lost three, that means this one has only twenty-four.”

That bit of arithmetic was almost too complex for Aziraphale’s addled mind. “But. The rest are already so large.” He flexed his lower right wing, looking at the ripening globes that nestled among his feathers. “And these are nearly ready. Surely we should wait—”

The hand grew painfully tight. “It isn’t. Up. To you.”

“But…”

“Do not make me say it again.”

#good omens fanfiction #good omens angst #ineffable husbands #aziraphale and crowley #emotional h/c #my wips #hurt aziraphale #mpreg cw #cw noncon #cw gaslighting #aziraphale #crowley #gabriel #gabriel is a bad angel #my writing #aziraphale's Children #bad angel

[wtf-yoongi]

Flawless.

pairing | taehyung x reader

summary | you’ve lost count of how many notes you’ve left in between tae’s textbooks, from the silliest to the most profound, loving ones. and yet, even after all these months, taehyung doesn’t seem to have noticed any of them

genre/warnings | university fluff bc y’all whipped by university student!tae am i right

words | 3,070

note | this concept was inspired by a plot line in romance is a bonus book (which you can and should stream on netflix). also: for some reason i didn’t know but found out while writing this that i would do anything for kim taehyung and that’s just a fact

You don’t know how that even started.

It sounds like the kind of thing people who lose bets would be forced to do. If you lose, you’ll have to write a silly letter confessing your love to a friend. It would be funny, a story worthy of being shared with friends in between bottles of beer and other tales from college years.

But it really isn’t like that. Definitely not as funny or entertaining – just you being bored one day and then too into it to stop it.

You don’t know what had gotten into you the first time you did it. You arrived a little early at the apartment Taehyung shared with Jimin. Tae was still taking a shower. Jimin let you in and apologized for having to leave you alone because he was working on a paper due only a couple of days later. You sat down in the small living room area. Looked around for a while. Picked a thinning stack of sticky notes from your backpack. Wrote something silly on one of them. Added a little #1 to it. Entered Taehyung’s room. Picked a book out of his shelves. Opened it on a random page. Sticked the yellow note there. Closed the book. Left it alone. That was it.

After that, it was like an addiction. Maybe it was the thrill of getting caught someday – eventually, as you thought – and having a good laugh with your friends about it. You could actually picture it: Jimin and you cracking up in the kitchen after Taehyung shows up with a handful of notes you’ve written. You tell them you’ve been doing it for weeks and leaving them everywhere. Jimin jokes about Tae not even opening a textbook to pretend he’s studying. Tae eventually joins, giggling and shaking his head.

//

“Hey, what’s up?”

You blink quickly to focus your mind again, looking up to see Taehyung free his shoulder from the weight of his bag and place a bottle of water on the table you are now sharing. He looks relaxed despite the craziness of the end of the semester, smiling and waving at a known face two tables away before sitting down.

“You good?” He asks again and bumps his elbow against yours to coax an answer out of you. “You look too serious.”

“I was…” You start and look down at the scattered pieces of paper in front of you, trying to make any sense of them. You pile it all to at least appear a bit more put together – the papers and yourself. “I was in the library, but the tension was too much to handle, so I moved in here.”

“It’s noisy.”

Well, yes, it’s a common area filled with students doing anything but studying. You wish to feel at ease like these people. Are they done with the semester or what?

“Don’t you think it’s a little bit too noisy to study?”

“Yeah, but there’s a whole lot of people talking and I can’t tell them apart, so it doesn’t bother me,” you answer, maybe a little too quickly after a few beats of silence. You decide to add something else, something to not end it on a bad note. “It’s oddly calming.”

“Well, if you think so.” Taehyung raises his shoulders and flashes you a simple and toothless smile. 

You don’t know how that even started. Liking him like the way you do.

It sounds like the kind of thing you would hear from someone else. I think I’m in love with a friend, what should I do? It would be funny, giving them advice on this sort of thing, but it only happened in movies, right?

But it really isn’t like that. It’s real. And it’s not as funny or entertaining. It kind of hurts, actually, but you can’t stop feeling those feelings and it drives you crazy sometimes. 

More than often you had found yourself thinking about this before going to sleep at night – and sometimes losing sleep over it as well. It definitely wasn’t like a switch, but it sure felt like it. You gradually fell in love, but only realized it when Taehyung came running down the stairs at the Art Department to meet you. 

There was nothing special about him that day – it was just the same old Tae –, but it wasn’t the art that had changed. It was the artist’s eye. You knew the second he made eye contact that something was up, but didn’t immediately jump to any conclusions, no. Love was something that came to you much later. At first, you thought maybe he had his hair done differently or the sweater he was wearing just fitted him too perfectly, the color matching everything else flawlessly.

But you had never used the word flawless to describe Kim Taehyung up until then. That’s when you realized you were the one looking at him in a different way. And that’s also when you started to wonder if that would ever happen the other way around, too.

//

But, of course, that never happens. He never finds out. Maybe the books you were picking up were way too random or hiding the notes inside just made it too hard for him to find them, so you decided to stick a note to a cover for once. 

You could feel the adrenaline rush as you did it, almost as if you were committing a crime. What you wrote is far from incriminating, though. #19 this is a test to see if you’re truly that clueless about your own stuff. you tedious friend, you were supposed to find these. what’s the joke in me leaving them if you don’t?

After that audacious move, you were a little apprehensive for a few days. You couldn’t stop looking at your phone, waiting for it to light up with a new message. At any moment now, you thought to yourself – and it did come, the message, but it wasn’t what you were expecting. It was just a you up? I need help with an Impressionism piece and this is more your thing.

//

“This is your last one, right?” Taehyung asks after a few minutes. “Last test?”

You blow a strand of hair that has fallen in front of your eyes. “Yeah, this and a project due tomorrow, but I’m done with that already.”

“Oh, the one you were working on last week when I asked you to come over and you said you couldn’t?”

“Yup, exactly.”

When you disconnect your eyes from the words in front of you to look at him again, he’s calmly playing with the water bottle with a subtle smile on his lips.

“I wish you could’ve come that day.”

//

You had sticked a note on his only book on Impressionism just a few days before.

To be honest, you were disappointed. Over the months, you had found yourself wanting more and more for him to find the notes – and not just the ones that had jokes on them, but also the ones that ask about the weather, about how he’s feeling, apologizing for that day two years prior when you bought spicy snacks instead of the regular ones, praising his photography skills and everything else that was on your mind. 

Taehyung not noticing anything gave you a more whatever attitude to it, almost as if you knew for a fact that he would never ever find them. That’s when you started to write deeper ones that sounded a little bit too much like a confession. You were talking about your fear of the future, the pressure your parents put on you, the pain of being the second child after a perfect one, how you were scared of failing in life and all the stuff you were too much of a wimp to say out loud. So many you ended up losing count and they no longer had a tiny number written in the corner.

At this point, you were running out of books. Taehyung had a good collection on his desk and shelves, piled one on top of the other without any order – but not enough for the rate you were going at. You left a note every single time you were there and able to sneak into his bedroom and caught yourself finding reasons why you had to visit just to leave another one. It was the safest way to get something out of your chest. Tae wouldn’t see it and, honestly, if he ever did, it was also ok.

//

“Hey!”

“Hey, what’s up?”

“What do you mean what’s up? You’re the one who called.”

Taehyung laughs.

 “Actually, you never call. What is up?”

“How did the test go?”

“Did you really call just to ask how I did?”

“I wanted to know if your semester’s finally over… And if you’re free.”

“Right now?”

“Yeah, right now.”

“I guess I am… I have some books to return, but that’s it.”

“Can you come over after that?”

“Sure. Do you need anything I can pick up on my way? I think I’m stopping at the convenience store for some much needed and deserved alcohol.”

He laughs again.

“You’re right, you deserve it. In that case, can you get those potato sticks I like?”

//

Only it wasn’t ok anymore if he saw it. Not after you wrote that one. 

A whole month had passed after that day at the Art Department. You thought you had had enough time to understand what was going on – what you felt. And even after that, it was still hard to comprehend how you could let yourself fall like that.

It wasn’t like Taehyung was paying any special attention to you. He really wasn’t. He treated you just like any other friend – maybe a closer one, yes, but not that much closer. It was hard to distinguish, though. He was friendly towards everyone, always looking for ways to help. 

You racked your brain. Had he ever offered to help you with something you didn’t think he would do for anyone else? Had he ever shown interest in any way? What the hell was it that made you feel this?

Maybe it was just him. Effortlessly. Just like that.

That day, instead of going with something that popped into your head right there and then, you had a plan for once. You had imagined something a little bit longer, organized the structure of it all inside your head – sentence after sentence –, but couldn’t bring yourself to write the right words even after your third try.

That was when you decided to settle for I think I’m in love with you, you idiot. You’re driving me insane. Stop that now.

//

“Your beloved potato,” you say to Taehyung, handing him the children’s snack as soon as he opens the door. “Can I get a thank you, you’re the best or what?”

“Thank you, you’re the best,” he repeats your words with a small smile on his lips. Inside, the butterflies want to start fluttering everywhere, but you beg them to keep quiet and still.

You smile back at him, soon entering the small living room and leaving your much lighter backpack on the floor. “Is Jimin home? I bought him some as well.”

“No, but you can leave it in the kitchen and I’ll…”

“I don’t trust you, traitor,” you interrupt, hand immediately raising to point a finger at him, eyes squeezed in suspicion as you pick the round package and start walking again. “I’ll take this to his room and hide it somewhere. Don’t you dare look for it!”

There’s a moment of silence after you move into Jimin’s slightly messy room, looking for a spot to hide the chips and soon picking up your phone from your back pocket to let him know exactly where to find them later. When you walk towards the living room again, Taehyung is seated on the sofa with his back to you, slowly moving his hand through his growing hair.

Nothing sounds out of place or any less than completely peaceful until he opens his mouth again. He waits for you – for you to be seated and comfortable and fully focused, phone forgotten inside of your back pocket.

“Why did you stop numbering them?”

You freeze.

“What?”

Your first reaction is almost immediate. Your whole body tenses, going into panic mode with the force and speed of an electric shock. Somehow, you can’t seem to disconnect your eyes from his serene ones – a complete opposite from yours. 

Your brain, on the other hand, is running a million miles per hour. It wants to know and it has so many questions. When did he find out? Did he read every single note? Did he notice you had left one inside almost every book – sometimes even two or three? Where were they now?

But, most of all, had he read that one?

“Why did you stop numbering them? The notes, I mean,” Taehyung calmly asks again. He’s so composed and gentle you start to wonder what he is thinking about you now and what conclusions he has jumped to from reading all of that. “I know the exact order you left them up to a point and then I’m lost. It kind of bothers me, you were telling a good story.”

He smiles again and an invisible hand clenches your heart.

“I just…” You struggle to find the words and, when they do come, your throat feels dry and tight and like it doesn’t want to make a sound at all. You can’t face him anymore. “I lost count one day.”

“Too bad,” he admits with the same tender tone. “I was really enjoying it, you know? Your story. There are sixty-four notes in total, so I’m guessing you’ve been doing this for a long time.”

So he has read all of them.

Your palms start to sweat and your whole body grows cold all of a sudden. You let out a small cough, but your words still come out a bit too raspy. “Kind of, yeah.”

“I’m really sorry to be this blunt, but I just got to know,” Taehyung’s voice loses its cool a little and you can see his whole body reflect that, agitated, while he turns to you. His hands reach out a little, but end up halfway, resting on the sofa. 

Then, his words come out like he has finally opened his brain’s tap. 

“I just have to know since when you’re feeling like this. Are you still feeling like this? You wrote me a note saying you’re in love with me and I don’t know when that happened. How could you not tell me that? God, I’m so selfish. You wrote a bunch of things about feeling like you’re not enough and being scared of the future and all I can focus on is this one thing.”

You swallow, but your mouth and throat don’t become any less tight. “It’s usually a one-time thing, I don’t always feel like that. We’re all worried about the future, it’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” You nod. He lets out a long and staggered breath and shifts his hands impatiently. He wants to move them closer, but doesn’t know if the timing is right. “You didn’t answer my first question, though.”

You freeze again.

“It was a…” You take one deep breath, your voice as small as it has ever been, but still somewhat audible. “It was a few months ago.”

“A few months?” He repeats, voice escalating in tone, and you simply nod once again. “You should have said something. You know you should have said something, right? I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t reject you.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I got scared.”

Wait. He said what?

“What did you just say?” You repeat the words screaming inside your head.

Taehyung laughs, his easy-going demeanor back again. “You should look at yourself right now, your face is priceless.”

You really have no words. If the circumstances were any sort of normal, this would be the time you would raise your hand to pinch or straight up hit Taehyung, striking wherever part of him was closest to you. But this isn’t anywhere close to normal, so you just let your jaw hang open, your brain struggling to process the information.

“I’m going to tell you a secret, I truly never told this to anyone,” Taehyung starts, smile still plastered on his silly and flawless face. “I had a crush on you a long time ago, I think it was when we first started talking. I got over that quickly, actually, because you seemed so dead focused on being the best student and showed no interest at all. I thought it was ok, you know? At least I had you as a friend, you were a nice person to have around and I wanted to keep your company.”

And I was fine about it. Really, don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t your friend just because I wanted something more, I really love being your friend. And I was ok for a long time until I found a sticky note and then another and another and another. I couldn’t believe you left so many and I never noticed it, like, how stupid am I? I should get a prize for being this slow.”

And then there was that one note. The one you wrote about being in love with me. I swear, I… I didn’t know what to think and then it hit me like a thousand bricks and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I was nervous around you again, I wanted to impress you so hard, I wanted to make you smile and happy. I honestly don’t even know how I’m still going at this without stopping, probably because I practiced. Yeah, I did.”

A few moments of silence pass before Taehyung is speaking again. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

Your dropped jaw turns into some sort of awkward smile. “Did you really practice?”

“Really?” Tae asks with an overdramatic expression. “I just said all of that and you’re asking me if I really practiced?”

You shrug. “I thought that was cute.”

“My God,” he overreacts, throwing his whole upper body towards you on the sofa. His voice comes out muffled now, but as playful as ever. “This thing only started and somehow I already know I’m doomed.”

Read more ›› masterlist

#kim taehyung #kim taehyung fluff #taehyung fluff #taehyung au #kim taehyung au #taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #taehyung x y/n #taehyung imagine #kim taehyung imagines #taehyung scenarios #bts one shot #bts imagines #bts fluff

[xenteaart]

Shall We? (Part 2)

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x fem!Reader

Request: Can I request part two for Shall We? Pleeeeaase 🙏!! You can’t just leave it like that.

Word count: 1,7k

Warnings: kind of a fight scene?? and like one swear word idk

Note: Sooo here’s part two of this fic, give it a read if you havent coz otherwise this one is not going to make much sense haha

For the sake of the story, Five disappeared when he was 18 (instead of 13) and got stuck in his 18 year-old-body after coming back accordingly. Also I’ve decided to give the reader and the Handler kind of a Lila x the Handler dynamic

The events are taking place in s1, some details of the canon are obvsly altered.

ALSO THERE’S A LIL EASTER EGG AT THE END MWEHEHE

Hope you enjoy!

Taglist: @stitched-mouth​ @startrekkingaroundasgard​

“You do know you can’t win. I really don’t wanna hurt you, Y/N,” he uttered, raising his hands a little as a way to warn you not to come any closer for your own good.

Even though it was supposed to be a sweet gesture of concern, hearing him confirm that he still thought you were no match for him cut you to your very core.

“Oh, yeah? Well, I’m afraid you might have to. Shall we?” you sneered and threw your leg into the air, hitting Five right under his kneecap and making him collapse on the ground with a surprised gasp.

Five truly had zero intention of hurting you, but your determination to have a fight left him no choice, and even his clear advantage of having loads more experience and superpowers on top did not seem to make you hesitate.

“Come on, don’t be stupid, Y/N,” Five commented as he got back on his feet and took a few steps away from you, still giving you a chance to back off before he had to inflict any pain on your person, but all it achieved was winding you up even more.

The problem was - you two underwent identical training at the Commission as the Handler gave both of you her very best mentor, and right now you were basically mirroring each other’s moves, except Five was also using his spatial jumps to disorient you. He was still going easy on you, mostly just blocking your punches and jumping further away so you had to chase him all over the Academy while he was hoping you would simply exhaust yourself before any real damage would be done. Quite frankly, it was a smart decision on his part and a rather thoughtful one as well because, despite all appearances, he actually cared about you an awful lot.

As the both of you gracefully danced all the way to the second floor, you were already out of breath from the endless running around which meant Five’s plan was beginning to work. However, you realized what he was doing soon enough to indulge him into the feeling of being right and played his little game for a while, waiting for the perfect moment when he’d get distracted, and as the moment came you had to act fast.

You threw yourself forwards and promptly wrapped your arms around Five’s waist, knocking him off his feet and pressing your body against his as you pinned him to the floor. He groaned with annoyance and winced at the pain as his back hit the hard wooden surface. The next few seconds sort of happened in slow-mo for both of you as he roughly pushed you off himself and somehow managed to switch places with you, now looming over your body and warningly putting his knee on your solar plexus, threatening to crush your ribcage if you moved.

A mutual silence fell between you as you were processing the last 30 minutes of your lives, both visibly struggling to believe that each of you somehow ended up fighting the person they would never wish to hurt in their entire life. The sounds of your heavy breathing were filling the room as you were merely staring at each other in utter confusion. The weight of Five’s knee on your diaphragm was beginning to give you trouble breathing, and your breaths became shallow and hoarse which finally snapped him out of his trance.

“Gonna tell me what the hell is up now, Y/N?” he asked in his teacher-y manner that you used to absolutely hate and adore all at once, especially when he used to give you lectures on your occasional fuck-ups - whether it was failing a class because you were too lazy to turn in your assigments in time or something a little more serious, like getting into an argument with the Monocle and consequently making life harder for both of you.

You would always roll your eyes and smirk when he would get into his i-am-disappointed-in-you-but-i-still-love-you character and cross his arms on his chest for dramatic effect.

“You were the one telling me to piss off in the first place, remember,” you narrowed your eyes as you were subtly gasping for air underneath Five’s weight. He pursed his lips and looked away, contemplating whether or not to be completely honest. Evidently, his lack of sincerity got him nowhere the last time around, so he sighed loudly; his shoulders dropping and his expression finally revealing all of the exhaustion and regret that he was concealing quite successfully up until now.

“I only pushed you away to protect you.”

“Sounds like bullshit to me,” you replied, clearly unimpressed and palpably suspicious; two years of being brainwashed by the Handler now taking their toll on your perspective.

“God, don’t be so slow,” Five uttered clearly irritated but then quickly realized his offensive implication and added, “Said with respect.”

You stayed silent, raising your brow as a way of telling him to continue.

“I couldn’t risk you becoming a casualty because being involved in my family’s mess as a non-super is dangerous. As in, you’re going to be a target all the time, and I couldn’t and still can’t afford to waste my time worrying about your safety. As much as I’d love to - it’s simply not the luxury I have. I’ve got to stop the end of the world, otherwise everyone is going to be dead in four days, don’t you get it?” Five asked, a waterfall of emotions pushing at the inner sides of his chest, waiting to be set loose and consume everything on its way.

You were quietly listening to his explanation and taking it all in whilst still trying to fight off the suspicion and disbelief that were nagging at your every cell.

“I wanted to keep you safe because I couldn’t bear to lose you again,” his voice trembled a little as the memories of his post-apocalypse life washed over his mind, “The last 45 years have been a fucking nightmare.”

“I’d find it way more believable if you stopped crushing my ribs for starters,” you muttered through clenched teeth and immediately felt the pressure taken off your chest, precious and very much needed oxygen starting to flow through your system the way it should again.

Five got up and offered his hand to help you on your feet as a gesture to show you that he didn’t see you as an enemy and placed trust in you. You took his hand and steadied yourself awkwardly, still slightly disoriented and light-headed.

“I don’t know what the Handler told you but I do know she’s exceptional at manipulating,” Five added as he looked you right in the eye, “Christ, and you’re so naive, always have been. Most days it’s truly adorable but sometimes, Y/N, it really doesn’t work in your favor,” as the words escaped his lips, his gaze became noticeably softer; his expression blossoming with tenderness towards you.

“Prove it. Prove that you care.”

Five chuckled and shook his head, simultaneously annoyed and amused at your stubbornness. The atmosphere between you was shifting and you couldn’t help but notice the familiar overwhelming feeling of comfort and peace enveloping your person from head to toe. You’ve forgotten what it felt like being around Five, and now you were finally getting to remember. At home.

He slipped his hand into the pocket of his uniform shorts and pulled out a grape-sized plastic figure of a golden retriever.

“You gave me this a few days before I jumped and got stuck in the future. I carried it with me all the way. This silly trinket was the only thing I had left of you, the only thing that reminded me you were still out there waiting for me. Kept me going,” he shrugged casually as if it wasn’t important at all which it absolutely was.

“Five, c’mere! Look what I found!” you called for him as you were sitting on the floor surrounded by all sorts of useless crap. You were in the middle of decluttering your bedroom when a little figure of a dog caught your eye, it was the breed that Five was especially fond of and you knew he secretly dreamed of getting a puppy of his own as soon as he was out of the house.

“What’s that?” he asked, unimpressed.

“It’s a doggie! He wants to be your friend,” you replied, playing with your accent a little, rolling you “r”s and shifting the flow of your words to sound more Scottish or ... Russian. God knows where you were going with it but you tended to butcher your accent for fun quite a lot.

“Y/N, are you twelve?”

“His name is Mr.Pennycrumb and he’s gonna look after you whenever I’m not around,” you said with utmost confidence and gave him a wide smile, putting the trinket into Five’s pocket, clearly very proud of yourself and still committed to your silly accent performance, “Treat him well.”

Five scoffed and shrugged.

“Whatever.”

“So did he?” you asked, staring at the goddamn toy as tears were slowly welling up in your eyes.

“What?”

“Did he do a good job looking after you while I wasn’t around?” your gaze finally met Five’s as the realization in his own eyes was starting to sink in. A pained smile touched the corners of his mouth, and you could see Five genuinely struggle to maintain his tough facade.

“Yeah. He did.”

Without saying a word, you stepped closer and rested your cheek on his shoulder, wrapping your arms around him, this time with no hostility or murderous intention. If you had to be perfectly honest with yourself, you’d admit you could never find it in you to actually hurt Five, let alone killing him. Both of you knew that way too well.

He returned the hug and pulled you closer, burying his nose in your hair and then planting a quick innocent kiss on the top of your head. Feeling the warmth radiating from you was enough to make him relax further into your embrace, his eyes now closed shut and his breathing steady and deep.

It didn’t last for as long as you’d like, though, a big loud bang from downstairs making you both flinch and pull away from each other, breaking your fragile bubble of comfort and calm in an instant.

“Shit, Hazel and Cha-Cha,” Five whispered, concern and worry crawling back onto his features. He briefly looked at you, and you simply nodded, non-verbally confirming that you were willing to help and were no longer part of the Handler’s plan.

The two of you were going to talk all about that later. His years alone, his and your own involvement with the Commission, the end of the world and loads more.

Of course, right in this moment neither of you could possibly know that your friendship was, in fact, a gateway into a lifelong partnership but you were bound to find out eventually. And the journey you two were about to begin as soon as the apocalypse was dealt with and gone was going to be magnificent.

#five hargreeves x reader #tua #The Umbrella Academy #Umbrella Academy #umbrella academy fanfic #five hargreeves #number five #my fic #my writing #five hargreeves x you #number five x you #five x reader #number five x reader

[clonecest-bin-account]

Thank you for doing this!

Bingo box; mischief, pairing: tech/wrecker(I'm also happy their just friends), prompt: Wrecker chalenges Tech to a throwing contest. He didn't say Tech couldn't use technology.

(AHsdhshkfdhs I love)

“Why should I even agree to do this?” Tech immediately asks.

“Because it’s fun!” Wrecker replies, as if Tech doesn’t know his actual motive, something that he doesn’t hesitate to make known.

“No, it’s because you like these stupid games because you always win,” he says in fact. For what other reason would Wrecker come to him of all people challenging him to a throwing competition?

This is nothing new however: Wrecker does tend to get restless, and when he does he often turns to challenging the others to some sort of contest, anything to battle the boredom. It’s not like Tech doesn’t understand him, but he also doesn’t want him to get cocky after an easy win, because let’s face, he’d never be able to beat him.

Wait, unless…

 “You know what?” he says. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

“Awesome! Then we--”

“But not now.”

“What do you mean ‘not now’?” Wrecker asks, confused.

“I mean that I need time to prepare. What? You thought I’d be able to do it immediately?” Tech replies, patting on Wrecker’s bicep. “I don’t wanna lose to you.”

At that, Wrecker burst into laughter; it isn’t a mocking laughter though, he genuinely finds it funny but not in a bad way.

“Alright, I’ll give you some time,” he says, jovially slapping Tech’s shoulder and almost sending him fumbling ahead. “Come find me when you’re ready!”

Tech has to fight really hard to hide the smirk on his face, but he manages. “Don’t worry big guy, I will.”

 It takes less time than Tech thought to get ready, which is good because eventually Wrecker would’ve grown bored of waiting and he would’ve sought him out to finally do this challenge.

It wasn’t easy to hide his project from him, given how close they are, Tech had to utilize every single moment in which they weren’t together to work on it. Thankfully he could’ve counted on the others’ help who, having gotten wind of Tech’s plan, did their best to keep Wrecker away from him; they’re true friends.

Now that he’s finally ready, however, he doesn’t need to avoid it anymore, and actually, he goes straight to him. It’s not hard to find him, Tech only had to follow the noise - he never was that stealthy to begin with.

Mh, looks like Wrecker’s doing some weights. Tech almost feels bad for interrupting him so he just leans against the doors and waits for him to be done, which might be just an excuse to admire his body. What? If Wrecker didn’t want to be watched, he could’ve sealed the doors. Besides, those back muscles look so good that Tech can’t help but to stare…

 He chuckles at the startled way Wrecker turns towards him when he finally speaks - he hadn’t noticed him at all.

“Hey there, big guy…”

“Holy-- Tech! How long have you been there?” Yes, Wrecker really hadn’t noticed him.

“A while,” Tech replies, a smirk on his face that gets soon mirrored by the other.

“I see, I see. Enjoying the show, huh?” he comments, flexing his arm. Tech has to bite his lower lip or else he’d say something that would completely deviate from his original purpose.

Concentrate, Tech! Now’s not the time to get distracted!

“Not really, actually,” he says. “I came here for the challenge.”

Wrecker still doesn’t drop the smirk. “Oh? You think you’re ready?”

“I don’t think I’m ready, I am,” Tech replies, trying very hard not to sound cocky, but he can’t help it, not with his secret weapon. Sure, it might be cheating, but Wrecker never set any rule about using technology, so technically he’s not breaking them.

Wrecker picks up on the tone, however, and he looks more than intrigued. He’s figured that Tech must have some sort of plan, which makes him curious.

“Let’s get going then.”

 They walk out of the Havok Marauder, not wanting to break anything inside, and get settled on the clearing they have landed. Miles and miles of plain fields, the perfect zone for a throwing contest.

“What do we get if we win?” Tech can’t help but to ask.

“Huh?” Wrecker replies, scratching the back of his neck. “I didn’t really think about that…”

Typical Wrecker, he throws himself into any kind of challenge without even thinking about what comes next.

“How about who wins gets a kiss?” he proposes.

“But we already kiss all the time!” Wrecker replies. “What would make that special?”

“It would be a victory kiss…” Tech explains, though he himself isn’t that convinced about that. Kissing was the first thing that came to mind, that why he suggested it.

Wrecker thinks about it just a moment, then he nods.

“Yeah, makes sense. I think…” he says, turning immediately towards Tech again. “So, are we doing this?”

“Ladies first,” Tech jokes, though he’s serious about wanting Wrecker to go first.

 They’ve agreed to throw one EMP grenade each, since they don’t want to cause actual harm to the environment. That kind of grenades is harmful only to droids, so they should be safe.

Wrecker weighs the one in his hand, juggling it a bit. His stare is fixed ahead of him, observing a potential target.

The rules are simple: whoever throws the grenade furthest wins.

Tech smiles, stretching his hand. If only Wrecker would’ve noticed that his armor is slightly different from the usual he might’ve questioned what he did to it, which by the way is nothing too major: just a thruster that will help him launch the grenade further and give it a little boost.

He feels a bit bad about what he’s doing, but how does that saying go? In war and love there are no rules. Sure this might not be as serious as actual war, but hey they’re still soldiers, so he guesses it counts. He isn’t sure about that, and actually is pretty sure that it’s just some excuse that he’s ramble-y brain came up with, but whatever. Not everything has to be serious: sometimes he might just want to do something just for the sake of doing it, or just for the sake of general mischief in this particular case.

 Wrecker goes completely still, just for a moment, then he throws the grenade. It flies through the air through an ample arc. Tech doesn’t have his bucket on so he can’t calculate the exact distance, but he doesn’t need it to discern that it’s a lot; it makes him wonder if even the help of technology will be enough to win this. Not that it would be such a huge loss, but c’mon he does have some pride.

They’re barely able to hear the sound of the EMP grenade detonate, which prompts Wrecker to turn towards Tech with an excited gaze.

“Pretty good, huh?”

“Yeah…” Tech can’t help but to admit, sounding genuinely impressed. Ok, maybe he won’t be that mad if he loses after all.

 It’s his turn now.

He takes Wrecker’s place, observing the field in front of him. He didn’t want to use his bucket to calculate the trajectory because he felt that would’ve been too much cheating, but now he finds himself regretting it.

He does his best to understand the wind’s direction and use this information to figure out what his best throwing angle will be. Eventually, however, Wrecker has to yell at him: “We don’t have all day!”

“R-Right, sorry…” he apologizes, deciding to wind it. If it works, good, if it doesn’t, at least he tried.

He almost dislocates his shoulder for who strongly the machinery in his armor pulls at it, and after throwing the grenade, Tech finds himself stumbling a few steps ahead before finding some semblance of equilibrium back.

In a moment Wrecker’s by his side, holding him up.

“Shit, Tech! Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I think I am,” the other replies, not wanting Wrecker to worry for nothing.

 They wait, they wait and they wait, but after loosing track of the grenade, they still haven’t heard the sound of its detonation, which means…

The realization hits them both at the same time, making them turn towards each other, Tech with a cocky gaze and Wrecker with a surprised one.

“Looks like I--”

“No way!” Wrecker immediately exclaims. “Something must’ve gone wrong!”

“Yeah, like?” Tech challenges him.

“Oh I don’t know… Maybe it just didn’t detonate!”

“Wrecker, they’ve never not detonate, so why it should’ve done it now?”

“I just…”

“Face it, big guy, I won.”

 Every bad feeling Tech had about this dissipates into nothing as he watches Wrecker try to make sense of all this. It’s really fun to watch.

“You used some trick! There’s no other way!”

“So what? You never mentioned anything about them,” Tech points out, the smile still on his face.

“… Shit, you’re right,” Wrecker finally realizes. This is as close as an admission that he lost that Tech is going to get, so he’ll let that be enough. Besides…

 He turns his face towards Wrecker, exposing his cheek.

“So? I’m waiting for my prize.”

He hears Wrecker huff, then he suddenly grabs Tech by the chin, forcing him to turn his face again so that he can press their lips together, which isn’t what Tech was expecting - not that he’s complaining, of course.

When they pull away, Wrecker’s still pouting, though it’s obvious that he’s forcing himself to keep it up.

“Happy now?” he asks, and Tech can’t help but to laugh, leaning closer for another kiss.

“Yes.”

#200 followers bingo #cloneshipping #clonecest #techwrecker #clone trooper tech #clone trooper wrecker #my fics #bitterfishies

[dreaming-of-assclass]

AssClass Christmas Fics: Part 1

Group 1 + gift-shopping 🎁

In which Kataoka is tired, Isogai is stressed, Maehara is a wholesome idiot, and Okano and Kimura are the embodiment of chaos.

Genre: Fluff, Humor, Wholesomeness, Slight angst on Isogai’s part

Length: 3,133 words

..................

—————

In hindsight, Megu should’ve known better than to come.

It had seemed innocent at first when Maehara brought the idea up in their groupchat. He wanted all his closest friends to band together and take a trip to the mall for “some good ol’ Christmas gift-shopping.” He said it wasn’t likely they’d get to hang out all together until after winter break. Ok, fair point.

But now, as she sat exhaustedly in the dressing room of some teen store, surrounded by heaps of clothing, she realized she’d made a mistake.

“Hinano, please tell me this is the last one you’re trying on,” Megu begged as she reached for another garment. “We’ve been here for at least an hour and a half.”

“Mmm...I just have to find a matching pair of shorts,” Hinano hummed, at least looking somewhat apologetic. She gave Megu a wink. “After this, we’ll be all done!”

And with that, the smaller girl dashed off, probably in search of one of the store workers.

Megu groaned, giving a pitiful glance at the bag sitting besides her. She’d purchased one outfit, a matching belt, and a set of earrings already...while her friend was still not even close to being done.

“Might as well check what everyone else is doing.” Megu pulled out her phone and texted their groupchat. 

Kataoka: Where are you guys?

She got a reply a moment later.

Maehara: me n isogai r grabbing smth to eat rn

Maehara: but we’re gonna go to some store after

Ah...probably to get some gifts for Isogai’s siblings, Megu remembered fondly. 

“Oh, Megu, she’s still not done yet?” She snapped up to see a somewhat flustered Touka making her way into the dressing room.

The class rep sighed with a tired smile, setting her phone down. She shifted a bit to make room for the other girl. “No, not yet...did you get what you were looking for?”

Touka nodded excitedly, pulling out her gift bag. It was very small and plain-looking, nude with only a red ribbon tied around. She handed it to Megu, a shine in her eyes. “Yes. It’s perfect, exactly what we were going for.”

Megu opened up the bag and reached for the item inside. It was small yet carried weight, and was surrounded by fancy parchment paper. She delicately opened it, careful not to rip anything. “Oh,” she breathed. Touka was certainly right.

It was perfect.

Nestled within the folds of parchment paper was a lovely ornament, shaped like a rose and made of dazzling stained glass. A thousand colors reflected off of it as she gently held it up in the light of the store. 

Touka smiled softly, leaning into her seat. “I thought a rose would be fitting after, y’know, Karasuma-sensei’s love declaration in October,” she laughed. 

“True.” Megu laughed as she carefully set the gift down back into the bag. “No but really, I can’t imagine anything better than this for her. She loves roses and it’s sophisticated, but still...can remind her of our class.”

She patted Touka’s shoulder, her gaze soft. “We made such a good decision entrusting her Christmas gift to be picked out by you.”

Oddly, Touka’s face turned a bright hue of red and she glanced away, clearing her throat. “It’s no problem! I’m happy that I picked something okay.”

Before Megu could question her, their third companion came back in a flurry of more clothing. A pair of pants flew and knocked against Megu’s face, and she wiped it away tiredly. “Hina! You said one more thing!”

Hinano was already turned towards the changing stall, struggling to carry her massive load. “I know, I know, I’m sorry! But they have a sale!”

“Still-!”

“Wait, really?” Touka shot up, her eyes bright. “I gotta go look for some stuff too!” Within seconds, she was dashing towards the racks of clothing in the store, right into the massive crowds of people already scavenging for good sales.

Oh boy. Megu mentally prepared herself for a moment before following her. Might as well take advantage of the sales too, she thought wryly. She had been looking for a new pair of boots lately...

.................

__________

“Yo, how about this one?” Hiroto asked, wriggling his eyebrows and holding up a video game-themed hoody jacket. It was child-sized and looked incredibly tiny against his large frame.

Yuuma looked in his direction, still combing through a rack of items himself. “Cute.” He grinned.

He reached over and touched the material thoughtfully. “Quality seems pretty good too. It’ll last him a while.”

“Yeah!” Hiroto agreed. “It’s super cozy, and will help him a lot in winter.”

“Okay, we can put this in the cart.”

Hiroto obliged and the two boys moved on from the clothing area. “Nothing else?” He questioned, giving a passing glance to aisles around them.

Yuuma hummed. “Well, we got a pajama set for both of them...a dress...two pairs of shoes, and now this hoodie. I’d like to get more but it’s Christmas, right? They’d probably like some new toys, not a ton of clothes.” He laughed.

“Ah, true.” Hiroto pushed the cart towards the toy section, following his best friend’s steady pace. This part of the store was incredibly hectic, and the sound of children’s cries and laughs filled it endlessly. Stressed parents flew around, trying to find the perfect toys. Boxes were everywhere, and it was very much a mess.

He barely caught Yuuma’s wince. As someone who also worked in a service industry, around Christmas time no less, Yuuma was probably sympathizing with the store clerks who’d be tasked to clean up.

They reached a random aisle that ended up holding all the lego sets. “I should get a couple of these,” Yuuma mused, looking around. “They love Legos, especially the bigger sets.”

“Uh huh...” Hiroto grasped his chin in thought, leaning his forearms onto the cart handle. “What about this?” He reached over and grabbed the box set. 

Yuuma leaned over to see it. “A firetruck and station,” he read. “589 pieces.” He smiled, looking up at Hiroto. “Perfect. Let’s grab it.”

“Awesome.” Hiroto was glad he was some kind of help. He knew this time of year was always incredibly stressful for his best friend, who not only had to study but work at the same time. And Yuuma would always buy his family some type of presents, so there was that added financial stress...

Not to mention...

Yuuma would never outright say it, but Hiroto knew that his father was on his mind even more than usual during the Holiday season, a time that places so much emphasis on family. 

The thought made his chest tighten. Hiroto always swore to himself that he’d help Yuuma and his family to the best of his ability, and it went tenfold during this goddamn month. 

The two looked some more before coming up with a few more toys. There was a science kit for his younger brother, and some new race cars. And a babydoll and a slime-making box for his little sister. The two kids would share the Lego set, and their older brother would help them build it.

“Now we just need to swing by over there,” Yuuma told him, gesturing to the side of the store where mainly women’s products were. Things like fancy soap, candles, etc. 

It was definitely a gift for his mom.

“Sure.” They made their way over, Hiroto still pushing the cart. “Hey, Isogai...” The name slipped uncomfortably from his tongue, leaving a taste of unfamiliarity. 

“Yeah?” Yuuma asked, looking through some house decorations. Hiroto took a short breath.

“Your family will love and appreciate whatever you get for them. It’s always the thought that counts, and that’s like...times ten with you. You’re a really good son and big brother, and that alone means so much to them probably.”

There was a pause.

“So please don’t stress yourself out, looking “for the perfect gift,” Hiroto added quickly. “They love you so much...”

Well, so much for nice encouragement. He just blurted out everything.

The sound of gentle laughter rang out, and he glanced up to see Yuuma looking back at him. His best friend’s eyes crinkled in a charming way as he spoke.

“Thanks, Hiroto...I couldn’t have gone through all this without you.” He ran a hand through his mop of dark hair. “And I don’t just mean this past month...thanks for being my best friend.”

He continued. “It’s when you say stuff like that...that brings me back down to Earth,” Yuuma admitted. “And I can actually...relax, even for just a little bit.”

Oh...

Hiroto coughed lightly, before beaming at him. “Well, duh~what are best friends for?” He winked. “I’ve always got your back.”

“Same here,” Yuuma replied, his gaze soft. 

His phone buzzed and he pulled it out, brows furrowing slightly. “Ah, Yada texted.”

Yada: help megu almost fought some girl over a pair of tights on sale

Maehara: LMFAOOOOOO well did she win?

Yada: ya of course

Kataoka: - _ - she deserved it

Isogai: Haha

Kataoka: also sorry to interrupt but

Kataoka: where the hell are okano and kimura????

.................

_________

“I can’t believe you actually had a good idea for once,” Okano muttered, the blue light from the game reflected in her fierce gaze. “Coming to the mall arcade instead of doing some boring shopping.”

“Yeah, well, at least one of us used our brain cell today,” Kimura shot back, his thumbs moving rapidly. “If it was up to you, we’d still be circling around the penny fountain.”

Okano snorted. “Shut up.” She picked up the pace on the controllers, feeling a familiar drive to win piling up inside of her. 

Ten seconds later, “You lose!” was flashing at her on the screen while Kimura jumped up, throwing his arms up in victory. “Aw, hell yeah!”

“Fuck!” Okano hissed. “One more time!” She demanded, turning towards him.

Kimura smirked, calming down. “No thanks, I’m getting bored of this one now,” he replied nonchalantly.

Okano rolled her eyes. “Fine.” She looked around at the arcade interior, her gaze scanning around for anything that seemed interesting. 

“Oh! I love that game!” She exclaimed, gesturing to an iceball set up. “Come on!”

“Sure!” Kimura followed her towards the machine, seeing nothing else to do. “I bet I’ll win~” He sang smugly.

“You wish,” Okano scoffed, choosing the one on the left while he moved to the right. She inserted the proper number of tokens before smiling satisfied at the way the machine lit up. “I’m a beast at this game. Maehara can tell you himself how I literally destroyed everyone at this last summer.”

Kimura did the same and they both waited for the number of balls to roll down towards them. “Huh. We’ll see about that.”

“Just shut up and play already.” She had already thrown her first ball, smirking at how it fell into an 100 point slot. “Ha!”

“Lucky shot,” Kimura mumbled, tossing his first one. It fell into the Zero slot, much to his disappointment. “Shit...”

Thankfully, Okano didn’t pay attention. She was much too preoccupied with tossing her own balls, which all landed in the 100 or 250 slots. 

Kimura picked up the pace and continued his game. He groaned as all of them fell into the 10 point slots. The number of tickets coming out on his end was nothing compared to Okano’s long chain. Well...maybe my pitching is shit after all, like Sugino said. I should fix this...

“Done!” Okano shouted, throwing her last ball that fell into the 100 slot. She grinned at her list of tickets before looking over at him. “What’d I tell you, huh?” 

Kimura rolled his eyes, grabbing his final ball. Gritting his teeth, he tossed it with a carefull turn of his wrist. He watched in anticipation as the ball glided over all the slots...before falling right into the 5000 slot.

“Oh shit!”

“Woah!” Okano yelled, her eyes wide. “Oh my god, Kimura! You got the highest number!”

“I did!” He shouted back, somewhat in a daze. 

“That’s amazing!”

For a moment, it was like they weren’t rivals. Just a moment though.

Okano punched his shoulder, her lips curved. “Beginner’s luck,” she teased, but the fire never left her eyes.

Kimura laughed before his gaze fell back on his tickets. “Ah...it’s taking a while, isn’t it?”

Okano looked at it with a frown, pursing her lips. “It shouldn’t be.”

“Let’s give it another minute,” he suggested.

Five minutes later, Kimura felt like screaming. “My major accomplishment!” He sighed dramatically. “And no one was around to see it but you!”

Okano rolled her eyes, hopping off the floor where they’d been crouching. “Get up. Let’s go find a staff member.”

“Yeah...” Kimura stood up, shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket. “Uh hello? What are you staring at?” He questioned.

No answer, as Okano looked thoughtfully at the game machine. “Earth to Okano~” He sang, waving a hand in her face.

Then she did it.

Something he hadn’t expected, but really it shouldn’t have even surprised him.

Okano swung her leg out before letting it collide against the machine’s ticket base. A booming thud rang out.

And almost immediately, tickets began streaming out. 

Kimura’s jaw dropped.

“There, it’s all fixed,” Okano smiled with a shrug.

“Are you crazy?” The words escaped his mouth instantly. “You pulled out some assassin moves just to fix a ticket machine?!”

“Well yeah~You can get your tickets now!”

“How did you even know that would work?! And doesn’t your foot hurt like hell?”

Okano laughed. “Honestly, I had no idea if it would work. But it did!” She glanced at her foot. “And it doesn’t hurt. That part of the machine is pretty hollow, and my foot has hit harder things so...”

Kimura frowned at her.

“I promise it’s fine!” Okano held her hands up. “Woah...look at your tickets! I think you can get a stuffed animal with this number!”

“Yeah maybe-” Kimura was cut off by a stern voice barking at them.

“Hey! You kids!”

They both jolted up as one of the mall security guards stormed towards them, followed by as pissed-off arcade worker, who pointed at them. “Those kids broke the machine to steal extra tickets!”

Kimura felt his mouth go dry. Still he tried to shout, “Wait no! It’s a misunderstanding, I got 5000! But it got stuck-”

And then he was cut off by Okano yanking his arm away with a strength he could only imagine having. The next few seconds felt like a blur and before he knew it, the two of them were running in the lobby of the mall.

“Come on, you idiot! You’re the fastest runner in the class, act like it!” Okano yelled, purposely agitating him. Still, Kimura fell for it and his speed increased immensely in just a second. Now, Okano was trying to catch up to him. 

Kimura dashed through the numbers of people walking by, being mindful to dodge anyone, especially the elderly or some children... He shouted out a “Sorry!” and an “Excuse me!” as he moved.

It sounded odd but he could hear Okano’s footsteps behind him, even amongst the clusters of normal civilians. Probably from all the times they trained together. Her steps were light and bouncy, barely touching the floor as she kept a stable balance. He always thought to himself how Okano moved like she could walk on air.

He made a sharp turn around a mall corner, narrowly avoiding a collision with three girls just trying to walk by. “Ah, I’m so sorry!”

“What the hell- wait...Kimura?” One of the girls breathed.

Kimura’s head snapped up at the familiar tone and he realized in horror who the girls were. “Kataoka! Yada! Kurahashi!” He laughed sheepishly. “How’s your shopping going?”

“Fine~!” Kurahashi chirped, somehow balancing five huge bags on one of her arms alone.

Kimura smiled at her. “That’s good...” He laughed nervously again. “Well, I should continue on my way-”

Kataoka leveled him a sharp glare, leaning in closer. “What do you think you’re doing, running around the mall like a maniac? And where’s Hinata?!”

“Uhm...”

“There you are!” All four of them jolted, looking up to see the security guard. Standing right beside him was a very annoyed-looking Okano, crossing her arms. Ah, so she got caught...

“I’m gonna need you to come to our office,” the guard spoke sternly, looking straight at Kimura. 

He sighed, stepping forward to comply before passing a pleading glance to the girls. Kurahashi frowned, Yada sighed, and Kataoka shut her eyes irritably. Then she spoke. “Officer...we’re friends with them, so we’ll come along too, if that’s okay.”

“Alright then.”

The girls followed them warily and Kataoka leaned in to whisper to Yada. “I hope your negotiating skills will come in handy now...”

..............

________

“Oh man,” Maehara wheezed, clutching his stomach. “Banned from the mall for a month?!” He burst out laughing again.

“Yeah...” Kimura’s head was dropped into his arms, which rested on the table of the cafe they were at.

“I’m glad you find this act of immaturity so funny,” Kataoka commented dryly, taking another sip of her latte. The liquid scorched her throat a bit, but she needed the caffeine at that moment. 

“Actually, I find it hilarious,” Maehara corrected. “Seriously, how did all that even happen? Why’d you run away?”

“I’d like to know too,” Isogai chimed in tiredly.

“Uh, haven’t you heard of fleeing from the scene of a crime?” Okano snapped, but it lacked its usual bite as she reached over for her hot chocolate.

“That only works if you can’t get caught,” Yada pointed out with a giggle, adjusting her scarf.

“Aw man,” Maehara chuckled, toning it down at the sight of Okano’s pout. “It’s okay guys. We’ll laugh about this in the future.”

“You’re laughing about it now,” Kataoka muttered sourly.

Maehara ignored her. “One day, we’ll look back on this as a super fond memory,” he said confidently, throwing an arm around Kimura.

“Not to mention, it was pretty cool how you used your kick, Hina!” Kurahashi chimed in, hugging her.

“Yeah, pretty badass,” Isogai agreed, flashing her a smile.

Okano’s lips curved up. “Thanks, guys...”

“I guess the whole thing was pretty ridiculous,” Kimura said. “Sorry for stressing you out, Kataoka...”

She waved him off but her gaze softened. “Just don’t let this happen ever again.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Maehara clasped his heads behind his head. “Ah, by the way, I’m gonna have to leave sooner than I thought.”

Yada squinted at him. “...Why?”

“Well, there’s this Christmas event at another store where they need a guy in a Santa costume...and you know...the elves are all pretty girls, so I gotta help them out-”

All his friends let out a collective groan. 

#assclass #ansatsu kyoushitsu #assassination classsroom #writing #group 1 #hinata okano #megu kataoka #yuuma isogai #justice kimura #hiroto maehara #touka yada #hinano kurahashi #is there some underlining subtext between maeiso #you bet your ass there is in my fic #sdhjksj okano and kimura bring all the chaos #also sorry for the lack of kurahashi..... #i just could not write her for some reason

[ashintheairlikesnow]

I love chris and kauri and I’m excite to see more of their friendship 🥺

Tagging Chris and Kauri’s crews: @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @endless-whump, @whumpfigure , @astrobly, @newandfiguringitout, @doveotions, @pretty-face-breaker, @boxboysandotherwhump, @oops-its-whump @maybeawhumpblog, @pepperonyscience, @haro-whumps, @18-toe-beans, @giggly-evil-puppy, @whimpers-and-whumpers, @moose-teeth, @whump-it, @lumpofwhump, @pumpkinthefangirl,

TIMELINE: College Chris, summer break before sophomore year

“I, I, I don’t know what, what I’m doing,” Chris says nervously, looking down at himself. The sound of the music is too loud, bashing into his skin, trying to slide up under his shirt like fingertips and push into his ribs, rock the breath out of his lungs. “I don’t... I can’t do this. This is stupid, they, they just like the movie, it doesn’t mean-”

“Laken’s a giant musical nerd just like you are, and yes you can.” Kauri’s fingers grip his chin and lift it, and he raises nervous green eyes up to Kauri’s wide warm blue. There aren’t a lot of people whose eyes he can meet easily, where the way they look isn’t too much, doesn’t make him uncomfortable in ways that are nearly painful, but... Kauri is one of them.

All he sees, in Kauri, are his eyes.

“What, what, what if they think it’s, it’s, um, ridiculous?”

“Chris, I promise they’d rather see you do this as a birthday present than get some random something from a store. This takes time. This is you doing something new, for them. They’ll love that.”

Kauri turns with the remote in hand, restarting this part of the movie over again and pausing it before the big number at the end, what he’d asked Kauri to help him learn how to do. “You have rhythm, it’s natural to you, I’ve seen you practice the routines you saw on TV. Dancing is just like gymnastics, but nobody’s going to judge you on how well you do. Well, except me, but I judge on a curve when it comes to you.”

“No... no,” Chris whispers. He looks over at the TV, sees the frozen moment of nerves on the face of the main character, sitting and looking down at a wooden bar, thatch of deep brown hair on his head. The others behind him, leaning over in encouragement. “It’s, it’s, it’s-it’s not the same, it’s... not, Laken won’t-... I can’t dance like, like they can, I can’t-”

“Yes.” Kauri says it firmly, both hands on Chris’s face now, smiling at him as he turns the nervous expression back to meet his own calm certainty. “You can. You can dance, Chris. And you won’t need a bunch of alcohol to do it like some people around here.” He jerked his head towards the doorway, where the stairs were, leading up to the room where Jake sat pretending he wasn’t desperate to be down here helping, too.

“Kauri... this, this was stupid, I don’t... I don’t-”

“You got this.” Kauri took Chris’s hands in his, gave them a squeeze. “I’ll show you. Of course, I wasn’t taught dancing where I was the one leading, but... you know what, I’ll give it a shot. Better than trying to dance with the giant in the other room, right?”

“R... right,” Chris says, almost breathless with nerves. “Let, let me watch you once, yeah?”

“Yeah, okay. But don’t laugh.” Kauri’s eyes are sparkling as he waves Chris back to the couch to watch, hits the play button, and starts lip-syncing along with the main character. 

Watching delicate, lithe Kauri move and mouth the words while the actor’s deep, brassy baritone is what comes from the screen has Chris’s hands over his mouth to hide his laughter. 

“Oh, stop it,” Kauri says, good-naturedly. “We both know I can’t sing like your dumb ass can.”

Chris giggles.

Kauri only rolls his eyes and keeps moving, rolling his shoulders along with the rhythm of the song. He moves with innate grace, alluring in ways that aren’t planned or purposeful, not here with Chris. Without his ever-present zip-up over his shoulders, Chris can see the way his muscles shift, that he even has them, under everything. His shirt is short enough to show a flash of pale, bare stomach, his tank top exposes the wicked scar along his collarbone where Kauri made his own freedom real, where Kauri saved himself.

When the chorus starts, and the actors on the screen start dancing together, stomping their feet, Chris finds himself bouncing his own feet to the rhythm with them, eyes watching one of the actors drop down to move along the ground, kicking their legs and arms out, back parallel with the floor, in a motion so similar to some deep muscle memory he has of a gymnastics move that he thinks Kauri is right.

Dancing is just like the gymnastics he can still do, just...

Just fewer backflips, right? 

He’s recreated floor routines in the backyard, taught himself things his body knew but his mind had been forced to forget. If he can do a backflip and the splits to music Kauri sets up on Jake’s mp3 player and speaks in the yard, he can do this.

He’s been watching this one scene over and over and over and over for days, memorizing the movements of the actors, watching the way the scenery is set around them, how much space they need and which moves are done at what moment, who is paired up with who and how they complement each other. The stage-setting was what he watched this for originally, but then he’d had this idea, and...

He can do this.

It’s just like gymnastics. It’s just like yoga.

The main actor looks out at the dancers and says, with enthusiastic joy, “Yes!”, and it’s like he’s saying it right to Chris.

Chris stands up.

Kauri does a spin, turns and holds his hand out to Chris, jerking his head towards the TV to gesture to the actors, just as the music swells again and the key changes. 

Chris takes his hand, and when Kauri pulls him up he lets the older man spin him close, bursting out laughing when they simply smack into each other with an ‘oof’ and stumble backwards.

“Okay, okay, maybe I’m not as good at this as I thought I was,” Kauri says over the music, a little shame-faced. “You want to start over?”

“Yeah, I-I do. Let’s, let’s start...” Chris can’t stop laughing, dropping his head onto Kauri’s shoulder, feeling arms around him warm and loving and light. “Let’s start over. Laken’s going, going to fall over laughing at me, Kauri.”

“Nah. They’re going to think you’re badass for learning something new just for them. That’s how dating someone works.” Kauri’s smile is in his voice, even though nuzzled into his neck Chris can’t see his face. “Ask me how I know.”

Chris frowns against Kauri’s warm skin, thinking about the twisting scar that Kauri feels safe enough to show here. “How, how do you know?”

Kauri pulls back, runs his hand through Chris’s hair to get it out of his face, and smiles at him. “Because I’ve dated like fifty people in five years.”

“You, you have not!”

“Guess that depends on what counts as ‘dating’,” Kauri says thoughtfully. “If I have to see them more than once, maybe... twenty?”

Chris finds his smile widening and shakes his head, pointing at the screen, where the credits are rolling now. They missed the whole big dance at the end. “You’re so, so weird, Kauri.”

“Welcome to the pet party, pal,” Kauri teases, and leans in to brush a fast, rough kiss across Chris’s forehead, before he turns back to the TV. “We’re all weird. It’s part of the recovery process. Okay, here we go. You picked one of the dancers to be?”

“Yeah, I, I, I... want to be the one with the, the big, um, the big white hair.”

“The big... yeah, okay, she’s cool. I’m the guy who spins her.” Kauri picks up the remote, hits the button to go back a chapter, then two, hits pause.

Same man, looking down sadly at the bar, with the people behind him about to help him remember what matters. 

“Ready? Laken’s gonna lose their shit when you show them you learned this whole thing just for them. They are gonna kiss you so much,” Kauri teases, until Chris smacks at him, flushing red. 

“Shut, shut up, Kauri.”

“Fuck no. You’re gorgeous when you blush. Laken thinks so, too, they told me.”

“They did not!”

“Did so. We text now, didn’t I tell you?”

“Wh... wh-what, um, what, what what what... about?”

“How cute you are.”

“Kauri...”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop. I promise. We text about thrift store clothes mostly. Come on.”

Chris takes a deep breath. Fixes his eyes on the actor he picked, in a pretty white dress and with pretty white hair falling like a waterfall all around them. He shifts around, gets into the same opening position they’re in when the dancing kicks in. “Ready. I’m, I’m, I’m ready, Kauri.”

“Okay. Starting in three... two... one.”

He hits PLAY and the man begins to sing, low and soft, as the people around him move closer. Kauri waits, and when the time comes, he holds his hand out to Chris, who takes it, and lets Kauri spin him close.

This time, they land it, and Kauri spins Chris out again, and he kicks out along with the actress, arms out, eyes closed, the beat of the song under his skin and over it, a comfort and warmth, not a weight.

Jake comes downstairs at some point. Chris doesn’t know when, maybe at the part where Chris drops down on the ground, kicking legs and arms in time, parallel to the floor. 

How long he watches, Chris isn’t sure.

All he knows is that, bathed in sweat, on their third run-through, he picks Kauri up with a careful balance and spins the other man with his legs out, Kauri laughing breathlessly and yelling for them to do this for Laken, they’ll go nuts at how strong he is, only to come to a stop when he sees Jake standing in the doorway, arms crossed, leaning against the frame.

When Chris holds out his hand, Jake shakes his head, but Chris only grins at him and gestures again. Come here. 

“I’ll knock something over and I haven’t had enough to drink,” Jake protests, but he’s already moving, and it’s a minute - maybe two, maybe three - before Jake and Kauri are dancing in the living room, hip-to-hip, dipping to one side and then the other with Kauri’s head tilted back to look up (and up and up) at the taller man while Chris spins by himself, stomping his feet in time, singing along.

When he’s singing along with the actors, clapping and stomping and pouring energy into matching their movements, he doesn’t stammer once. He never stammers when he’s singing, not when the energy has somewhere outside of him to go.

It’s only in a moment of quiet that he hears Jake say, softly, to Kauri, the two of them having settled into something far closer to a slow dance even as the movie’s music stays upbeat and fast-paced, “Stay here with us. Be part of the house.”

Kauri gives Jake a slight, faded smile. “Jake...”

“Kauri...” Jake’s voice it too low for Chris to hear. “Kauri, please.” Chris finishes a spin and stumbles to a stop just as Jake kisses Kauri’s forehead, hands on his face, lingering there. “Stay.”

Kauri hesitates, and his tongue is just behind his teeth, as though he’s ready to give some answer only to stop himself. He looks up at Jake - blue eyes on blue, two different colors of it, black hair and blond. “What do you want, Jake? What do you want me to do, to be, here?”

“Nothing. You. That’s all.”

The music drops, three people left sitting at the bar, singing softly to each other as they raise their glasses.

“Nothing, Kauri,” Jake repeats. “I just want you to be home.”

“Home is a locked door, Jake,” Kauri says. The two of them seem like they’ve forgotten Chris is even here, and he feels suddenly out of place, even though watching the movie was his whole thing, he’d asked Kauri to help him learn the dance in the first place. “Home is the place where he won’t let me leave.”

“No, Kaur,” Jake replies, shaking his head. “Home is the place where they leave the light on, even when you’re gone.”

"Jake... home has always been a locked door. Home’s always meant... it’s always meant-”

“Fear. I know. But it doesn’t mean that here.” Jake’s expression is serious, sincere. “My door stays open. For you, anyway. And Chris, and Antoni... my door stays open. Let this be home, Kauri.” 

Kauri takes a breath, and then closes his eyes, giving a slight smile. “I’ll think about it. I’ll, I’ll think...”

“From now on,” Jake whispers, “let this be home. With us. Come home and stay there, for a while.”

Kauri is silent for a second, then turns around and picks the remote back up, restarting the dance. “Come on, Jake. Dance again. Embarrass yourself with us.”

“Say you’ll stick around,” Jake counters, taking the remote and pressing pause. “For a month. As a trial. And I’ll dance with you again.”

Kauri frowns. “A week.”

“Three weeks.”

“Two.”

“Done.”

The two of them shake hands, and Kauri is nearly knocked over when Chris barrels into him in delight, arms tight around his waist, a blur of blue hair and happiness. 

“Hey, hey, okay, yeah, I’ll stick around for a while, okay.” Kauri sighs and looks at Jake, eyes narrowed, playfully. “You did this when I was here with him on purpose, didn’t you.”

“No. It’s just the first time you’ve stood still long enough for me to ask.” 

Jake hits the PLAY button and the song starts up again.

#whump #trauma recovery whump #all comfort no hurt #just a little bit of fluff #pure fluff #fluff #erase to control #chris the strawberry blond romantic #jake the shelter guy #guess the song they're listening to by my descriptions and win a prize #recovering whumpees #box boy universe #box boy #box boy multiverse #bbu

[all-things-mlqc]

The five boys react to an overweight MC that works as a nutritionist but struggles a lot to lose weight? It might be strange but it happens sometimes. PLEASE!!! Btw, I love your work❤️

This was really fun to write about. Knowing that these guys are so supportive of MC and want to help her in any way possible with whatever she’s struggling with is just so sweet. 

Thank you for the love and support as well! 😭 I’m usually just memeing it up out here so writing HCs is very new for me but your support helps so much! I did meme a lot while writing this as well because what’s life without memes, so you can find all of my inner thoughts crossed out~ Hope you enjoy!

HC below the cut~

Gavin:

Gavin loves and supports MC through everything. He’s constantly watching and confronts her whenever he believes something is wrong.

After noticing her sulking at herself in the mirror, he asks what’s troubling her.

“Nothing really! You don’t need to worry about me.”

She gives him a small smile and turns away from the mirror.

He figured it had something to do with her figure given the way she was looking at herself.

He remembered her mentioning how even though she’s a nutritionist, she still struggled with her own weight.

She didn’t seem all that down back when mentioning it, but the expression she had in the mirror said otherwise.

He stood up from the sofa and asked if she wanted to go with him during his morning jog.

“Why would you want me to do that? I’d only slow you down.”

Gavin: I don’t mind. If it’ll help, then I’ll do anything I can.

This man isn’t one for small talk. He gets straight to the point. He observes, finds the problem and seeks out a solution. There was no need for MC to confirm his suspicions about wanting to lose weight; It was all in her expression.

“I don’t really want you to go out of your way for me... Besides, it’s important you don’t slack off with your training.”

Gavin: I wouldn’t be slacking off. Training with you would only make me work harder.

A NATURAL ROMANTIC BUT ALSO A FUCKING MORON WHO GAVE HER A BLOOD SOAKED LETTER. IM GONNA BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF YOU YA DUMBASS

MC takes up on Gavin’s offer considering how adamant he was. He also didn’t seem concerned in the slightest about MC being a burden BECAUSE SHES LITERALLY THE LIGHT IN HIS LIFE AND WOULD DO ANYTHING FOR HER

After they go jogging, they stop for a healthy meal of MCs choice because Gavin doesn’t know what food is. Have you seen his kitchen? INSTA NOODLES EVERYWHERE. Boy is literally the type to throw a lunchables on the dinner table and give thanks for his beloved meal. Omg nononono I’m thinking of all these sad things now about how Gavin was literally homeless for a while as a kid so he probably just got used to eating something small and simple every day. BYE IMMA GO CRY NOW

While eating, Gavin comes up with a few more ideas to help and offers to take her to his gym every other day.

They come up with a plausible schedule that could seem efficient to MC’s wish of losing weight.

This also gives MC the chance to make sure Gavin is taking care of himself as well.

Kiro:

Kiro and MC meet up when he finally has free time and manages to escape from Savin.

Like their normal days together, they end up walking around Loveland City, going to some sightseeing locations. They just enjoy each other’s company.

When stopping to buy a snack, Kiro grabs two bags of chips and beams up at MC only to see her forced smile. He immediately gets concerned given how positive she always is.

Kiro: Are you ok? What’s on your mind?

“No, it’s nothing. I’m just trying to narrow down on the amount of junk food I eat.”

Kiro: Why is that? You’ve always told me to live to the fullest.

“Well... I’m trying to lose some weight but it seems more problematic than I had originally thought.”

With MC looking ashamed of how little progress she has made thus far, Kiro places both bags back on the shelf with a bright smile.

Kiro: Well if we both work together then there’s no chance we could lose this fight! Besides, Savin has been at my throat lately considering the mount of junk food I’ve been eating recently too.

“Kiro...”

MC stared at Kiro, dumbfounded, who seemed so positive. This gave MC a boost of confidence, herself.

She quietly thanked him while giving him a genuine smile.

They spent the whole day doing fun activities. In a way, this was part of Kiro’s plan to help MC. He knew how much this mattered to her so he wanted to keep a smile on her face while secretly help her from the shadows.

It’s honestly what he does best. It’s hard to tell in the game since we don’t get to see every expression he makes or how he reacts to things, but take a good look at his reactions in the anime. You can see how serious he really is behind his happy facade.

He continues to silently help her every time they spend time together as well as send her encouraging texts and reminders.

Nobody is more positive and encouraging than Kiro~

Lucien:

Lucien knows everything nutritionists know, let’s be real. This man was a child prodigy who skipped half of his school life, going straight to college.

He knows EXACTLY what MC needs. The one problem is, so does MC.

She knows what she needs to do but doesn’t have the kind of support she needs. She easily becomes discouraged when things don’t work out after trying so hard.

Luckily, Lucien is also a wonderful supporter minus when he just “what’s a magic? Don’t know em. No thoughts. Head empty. Only science and death”. Uhu then what do you call that flying cop outside the window? Where’s your science behind that? Lucien: “Well you see, there is a certain DNA mutation that—“ DO NOT ANSWER THAT YOU FOOL I KNOW ITS SCIENCE BUT MAGIC IS EASIER TO ACCEPT RN BECAUSE MY BRAIN GO BRRR

But considering it’s MCs health, he is very supportive and even explains that many people struggle with the same problem. There’s not exactly any problem with how someone looks unless it is overall affecting their health for the worse but he will gladly help MC if she wishes to lose weight.

Knowing that Lucien views it this way immediately gives MC more confidence.

An enormous amount of stress has been lifted off her shoulders which will ultimately help her reach her goal.

Lucien comes up with a solid workout plan and diet that is easy for MC to follow and even offers to make her some special meals to help with weight loss because Bill Nye over here has the solution to everything

I also highkey imagined him whispering in her ear like the first day they met that if she follows his plan without any casualties, he would give her special rewards and yes I do mean THOSE kind of rewards because this man is K I N K Y. I don’t even like him, I blame my friend who’s constantly giving me these ideas about him. You’re lucky you’re a bitch or I’d probably be on the floor for you too.

Victor:

Victor’s biggest struggle is vulnerability. He is very blunt and says what comes to his mind without always thinking it through.

Because of this, he upsets MC when talking about her weight.

He meant no harm from whatever he may have said but notices MC’s sorrowful expression after lifting his eyes from the papers on his desk to meet her gaze.

He immediately acknowledges what he had done and puts everything away for the day, offering to take her to Souvenir.

“What..?”

Victor: I’m done for the day. If you don’t have anything else to do, you can come with me.

“But why?”

Victor: You’re still you regardless of your weight, but if it’s something you want to change, I’ll help.

The man wanted to tell her she’s beautiful and amazing no matter what, but hahaha we all know this man can’t compliment for the life of him. Jkjk he can but like I said before, v u l n e r a b i l i t y. He struggles with expressing his true feelings.

MC responds with pure shock on her face,

“Really?? You’d help me?”

Victor: Only an idiot would ask a question like that. You should count on me more when you’re struggling with something like this.

Baka this baka that. If I don’t add it somewhere, than this whole HC isn’t accurate at all. All you thirsty Victor hoes go watch his baka clip if you want more *spray bottles*

He tidies up his desk and grabs his coat, heading towards the door while MC stumbles over her thoughts.

He only stops halfway out the door to look back over his shoulder at MC.

Victor: Well?

“I— I’m coming!”

She rushes over and follows him out the door.

Victor ends up making MC a delicious and healthy meal, one he knows is a special meal for a weight loss diet.

Cooking was never that important to him. He only learned because of the little girl he once knew. But now... Now he has a new reason to continue cooking.

That girl had come back to him and he would do anything in his power to make her happy.

Shaw:

He watches MC intently as she talks about how difficult it is for her.

Right before MC finishes, he places her on his skateboard and takes off without giving her time to protest.

She shouts in fear ofc. Why wouldn’t she. I’m terrified every time the game says he puts mc on his skateboard just—

Shaw chuckles with amusement in her ear and then tells her to push off with her own feet.

“ARE YOU INSANE?” yes, yes he is

Shaw: I won’t let you fall but I won’t stop until you push.

“Fine fine!”

With the help of Shaw keeping her steady, she’s able to smoothly push off the skateboard a few times.

After getting the hang of it, there’s a slight smile taking place of her feared expression from before.

Shaw’s expression, however, doesn’t change in the slightest. That teasing smirk rests on his face as she continues to push them down the park sidewalk.

As they reach the main road, she yells back to Shaw when the skateboard doesn’t slow down.

“Shaw—!”

It’s all she managed to get out as the fear she once had returned again.

MC shut her eyes with panic as the street grew closer and closer, only to feel an arm wrap around her as the cold wind hitting her face dissipated.

When her eyes opened, she saw Shaw giving her the same mocking smirk he always wears. However, his eyes showed signs of gentleness he doesn’t often express.

He offers her one of his skateboards for workout purposes as well as being her workout partner.

MCs chuckles out of amusement from the idea of HER riding a skateboard by herself. totally a reason why Shaw made this offer. He feeds off of entertainment.

She politely declines his offer of skateboarding but hesitantly asks if he would help her in other ways.

The question needs no thought from Shaw but he doesn’t want her to know he made up his mind to help long ago. ah yes, his one weakness as well, vulnerability

Shaw: I suppose being of assistance to you may turn out entertaining.

MC: Is that all I am to you? A source of entertainment?

She pouts at him half jokingly but he pays no mind to it as he kicks up his skateboard and continues walking ahead while suggesting a few things they can do to help with weight loss. Daring but not enough to scare her away. He actually wants to help but needs her to comply with his suggestions

Shaw is the type to help those he cares for without making it obvious. He believes personal relationships is a weakness for someone like him so he always keeps people at arms length; He always wants a possible way out for when he has to push people away.

While this is true, he’s also struggled with vulnerability his whole life. Considering the type of person his father was, growing up with a man like that not only puts pressure on Shaw, but also forms this broken and terrified personality under his overconfident facade.

Someone please just hold this man, he’s trying his best and needs healing

Their solution for MC is to try some fun activities together. Fun enough for MC to believe that Shaw isn’t going out of his way for her but also not as extreme to the point where MC won’t participate.

#mlqc #mr. love queen's choice #mr. love #mlqc hc #mlqc gavin #mlqc haku #mlqc kira #mlqc kiro #mlqc victor #mlqc zen #mlqc shaw #mlqc lucien #mlqc simon #asks #thank you <333 #man may i just say that i wrote this at the worst possible time #i had EVERYTHING written out and ready to go #woke up the next morning and my phone said ‘haha Apple phone go brrr’ #rest in peace 5000+ videos and pictures #all my game data #*thankfully i got most of those back* #all my notes #g o n e #it was a tragedy #but WE’RE BACK AND I REWROTE EVERYTHING SOMEONE JUST END ME ALREADY #but man im sorry this took longer than expected oTL #anywho writing kiro’s reminded me about who he really is #and probably not in the way you guys are thinking #only people with his newest rumors & secrets would know what im talking about #but damn i want more info on that and cannot WAIT for the anime to cover what most of us know

[dindjarindiaries]

Collide - Chapter 1

summary: Bella arrives to Colombia to start a new life at her new job and instead runs into some old things.

warnings: angst. lots of it.

rating: R

word count: 4.315k

masterlist

chapter 1.

Medellín, Colombia, 1992

You look out the window of the plane as it begins its descent into Colombia. A soft sigh passes through your lips as a weight seemingly falls off your shoulders. Getting out of Texas is proving to be a relief for you already; you may be running from your problems, but damn does it feel good.

Colombia is a dramatic place to run to, you know, but after hearing about the crisis on the DEA’s hands there with Pablo Escobar having escaped from La Catedral, you couldn’t help immediately requesting a transfer. Not only is it getting you far away from Texas, but it’s also putting you at the heart of some of the trickiest work the DEA’s had to do—a sure distraction from the daily torment of your mind. With no family to leave behind, you feel as unattached to your home as ever, and the feeling is already more freeing than you’ve anticipated.

After waiting a painfully long amount of time for a cue, you’re soon reaching for your carryon and getting off the plane. You stop at baggage claim once you’re in the airport, preparing to get over the border. You raise an eyebrow when you see a man start approaching you, his tall and lean demeanor not appearing as threatening but simply surprising, sticking out oddly amongst the locals who roam around. He ruffles a hand through his light hair before he stops just in front of you.

“DEA,” he greets, flashing his badge. You do the same with your own. He offers a small smile. “Good, you are the new agent. I was hopin’ they would give me an accurate enough picture.”

You chuckle a bit yet keep your gaze skeptical. “I’m not new,” you correct him, “just… reassigned.”

He nods, reaching out his hand to shake yours. “I understand. I’m Steve Murphy, your new partner.”

You shake his hand and introduce yourself, letting your arm fall back at your side, returning a smile as best as you can. “Nice to meet you, Agent Murphy.”

“Please, just Steve or Murphy is fine,” Steve insists. You nod to acknowledge the correction. “Look, I know you’re probably confused as to why the hell I’m here, but you see—when I came through here the first time, they found out I was DEA and somehow ended up killin’ my cat, so… I didn’t want that happenin’ to you.”

You widen your eyes in shock. “Damn, I’m sorry.”

Steve waves his hands. “I’ve done my mournin’. I’m just here to make sure you don’t have to do any of your own.” He pauses, looking at the luggage you’re carrying. “You don’t have a cat, right?”

You laugh lightly. “No, Murphy, I don’t.”

“That’s a great start.” He bites back more chuckling as he takes your largest bag for you. “Let’s get goin’. You’ve got a lot to see today.”

You can’t help feeling a swarm of butterflies ignite in your stomach, composed equally of nerves and excitement. You follow Steve to the border control, getting cleared with ease thanks to his presence and soon finding yourself outside in his car. He takes you on the road quickly, and he gets down to business straightaway.

“It’s dark shit down here,” Steve begins, not looking away from the road as he speak, “as I’m sure you know.”

“From what they’ve told me,” you respond, “and what I’ve seen on the news.”

Steve huffs. “The news. Don’t got a damn clue what they’re talkin’ about.”

You raise an eyebrow. “I thought they agreed that Escobar—?”

“No, no, not with that shit. Just…” Steve trails off, letting out a heavy sigh before finishing. “Things. It’ll make sense once you’re settled in down here.”

You offer a nod, tapping your fingers against the car door as you look out the window. You watch as your new home passes you by. There’s lots of children running around and enjoying the warm air, bringing you a nostalgic smile regardless of the pain those memories of your own now offer. Other people stroll down the streets, looking like they’re either going to shop or just having a leisurely trip. Some simply stand there and stare at Steve’s car as it passes by, and at the sudden unease their attention brings, you break your eye contact with the window to look back to the windshield. The city seems surprisingly active and busy for a place that’s suffered from acts of terrorism and violence at the hands of a drug lord.

“You alright over there?” Steve’s voice pulls you from your observations, and you turn quickly to look at him. “You got quiet.”

“Yeah, yeah, just looking,” you murmur. “I’m surprised. It seems…”

“… normal?” You offer a nod as Steve finishes the thought for you. “Yeah. That might be one of the saddest parts of it all.”

“Do they all know about Escobar?” You know the question sounds naïve, but you can’t imagine how they could possibly know about everything that’s been happening and still function as if the world’s completely normal.

“‘Course.” Steve pauses as he takes a turn, soon pulling up into a parking space outside a large building adorned with a sign designating it as the Policía Nacional de Colombia. “Some just still think he’s a hero.”

You scoff. “A hero?”

“He built neighborhoods with that money, helped out the poor. To some, he’s their Robin Hood.” Steve turns off the car, looking over at you. “Sorry we had to come here first. You can leave your stuff here, and I’ll bring you back to the apartment building after. Your rental’s there.”

You wave a dismissive hand at him. “It’s fine. The flight wasn’t that bad, anyway. The sooner I dig into things here, the better.” You’re yearning to lose yourself in your work, to finally push aside some of the darkness that clouds your mind—or, at least, exchange it for a different kind of darkness.

You and Steve both get out of the car, and he leads you inside. You already feel surprisingly comfortable alongside your new partner, likely because of his sheer kindness and evident grip on reality. He seems educated, motivated, and experienced, which are all things you’ve always wanted to see in a partner. You’re about to vocalize some of these thoughts to ease the nervous tension that’s surely exuding from you when Steve unknowingly cuts you off. “So, there might be one small detail I haven’t told you yet.”

You raise a curious eyebrow and look at him. He looks over at you, a small grin appearing on his lips before he looks ahead of you again.

“We have another partner. Now, he doesn’t know you’re comin’, because—well—he isn’t the best at makin’ quick friends, and he can be too skeptical for his own good. We had to surprise him.”

You hold back the urge to roll your eyes. Of course there was a drawback. Things had seemed too good when it was just you and Steve. “Oh, that’s… great.”

“Don’t worry, you know your shit. I’m sure Peña’s gonna warm up to you just fine.”

Upon hearing the name, your gaze snaps over to Steve, and you feel a rush of strong emotion run through you as you nearly stop dead in your tracks. “Who?” He doesn’t even have to answer as he suddenly stops at a cluster of desks, and you look ahead to meet the deer-in-the-headlights expression of none other than Javier fucking Peña.

You freeze. It feels as if your entire body has turned to stone, and if you make one wrong move, you’ll crumble into pieces on the tile floor. You haven’t seen Javier ever since that night—that fucking night. That night was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before—and, as hard as you try to keep it tucked into the shadow of your memory, it always somehow makes its way to the front of your mind again—and the fears that’d crept up in your mind shortly after ended up coming true. That’s when life in Texas became a shitshow: right after senior prom. Nothing had changed between you and Javier, and he treated you the same, as if you never shared those intimate moments together under the night sky at all. You didn’t gain the faith to confront him about it until just before he left for college. It proved to be a bad decision, as Javier was immediately flustered and, as a result, very angry. He questioned your friendship, your lifelong bond, and you—and he rejected it all. When he left the next morning, you never saw him again. Ever.

Until now.

His dark gaze pierces through yours in a way it hasn’t ever since you shared far too much of yourself with him. You want to look away, but you can’t, and you absolutely hate yourself for it. You shouldn’t be feeling fireworks inside your stomach, or a skip in the rhythm of your heartbeat. Your eyes shouldn’t be noticing his new sense of fashion, having exchanged the modest flannels and loose jeans for tight short-sleeve button-ups and fitted denim. You shouldn’t have the urge to melt into the ground when you observe the long sliver of tanned chest the loose buttons of his shirt offer, or the new mustache that makes his lips look even more kissable than they did all those years ago. Yet, here you are, unable to do anything but stare.

“Javi?” you finally choke out, your throat already feeling dry.

“Bella.” Javier’s voice is much gruffer than it used to be, as if it’s been roughened over the years, and your knees almost give out at the sound of it. Hearing him say your old nickname nearly makes tears rush to your eyes, but you refuse to let something so childish happen during your first few minutes at your new workplace.

“So… you know each other?” Steve interrupts your trance, and both you and Javier look over at your partner who’s evidently confused by your familiarity and longer-than-necessary stares.

“Why are you here?” Javier questions you as if Steve never spoke. You look back at him, seeing his gaze glitter with a hint of concern at your random presence. You want to tell him to cut the protective and sympathetic shit out, but you also want to wrap your arms around him and let him comfort you.

“I work here, now.” You say the words more firmly than necessary. Javier’s brow lifts, and you swear you can see a hint of horror in his expression. “As an agent.”

Javier’s head snaps to Steve, and he gives him an accusatory glare. “You didn’t tell me we were getting a new partner, Murphy.”

Steve shrugs. “It was last-minute.” Javier exhales deeply, closing his eyes as he pinches the bridge of his nose and leans back in the chair of his desk. You feel an ache in your chest, detecting that he’s displeased at your presence. You let it fuel the angrier side of you as you cross your arms over your chest indignantly. “That won’t be a problem, will it, Peña?”

Upon hearing Steve’s words, Javier looks up quickly, his eyes falling on you as he shakes his head. “No, Murphy, it won’t. I just… I would’ve liked a warning, at least.” Javier stops, and his eyes continue to watch you as Steve pushes a vacant desk over to the cluster of two where Javier sits. He maneuvers it so that it splits the end of his and Javier’s desks, placing you in almost a mediator position. It’s just as close to Steve’s as it is Javier’s, which you feel grateful for at the moment. Still, there’s a small part of you that yearns to be even closer to Javier to make up for all the years you’ve endured without him.

You scoff to yourself at the thought. Endured. Javier’s absence was torturous, indeed, but it was mainly because of his stinging rejection that had made you question so much about yourself. He’d taken your vulnerable heart in his hand, provided it with the most love and comfort you’d ever felt before, and then ran it through with the sharpest of knives, leaving it to bleed back in your own chest. And now, he’s staring at you as if that never happened, as if he can’t understand why you haven’t run over to him and embraced him yet.

What a cocky bastard. The Javier you knew—rather, the one you thought you knew—would never be like this.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Steve warns you, gesturing with his thumb back to the hallway you just came from. “Messina wanted to see you.”

You nod, unable to produce words thanks to your racing thoughts as you file into the hallway behind him. Though you’re faced away from him, you can feel Javier’s gaze burning into your back, and you bite your lip to keep yourself from looking at him. You’re still unable to process the fact that it’s him, and that you’re going to have to get closer to him again whether you like it or not.

Maybe one of the things he said that night had been true: your paths really did collide in the most unexpected of ways. Is it a good thing? You’re not sure. You’re not sure if you’re even ready for that answer yet.

The brief meeting with your new boss feels like a blur, and while you’re able to hold together your professionalism and understand the things you’re being informed of, your mind never leaves the man who’s waiting for you back in the office. You’re proud of the way you can compose yourself despite the storm that’s raging within, like a feral animal being caged and managing not to fight its way through fragile iron bars. You tell yourself you can keep it up once you’re heading back to where you came from, but you’re not sure if you can.

So much has happened since Javier walked out of your life, and you’re sure it’s been the same for him—and, despite how hurt you’ve been by him, you still feel attached to him. You want to know about his life because you still care for him. He’d mangled your heart, yet it still belongs to him, and you know that. It’s just what makes everything shittier, because you know he doesn’t feel the same way. How could he, if he’d walked so easily out of your life and never even tried to come back? Javier’s never been one to leave things to fate, so it’s not like he’s been waiting for a miracle to see you again. If he had, he wouldn’t have tried to marry one of your high school friends or started a brand-new life in Colombia without so much as a phone call to let you know.

Shit. It’s gonna be a goddamn fight to keep this animal caged.

When you get back to your desks, Javier’s gaze snaps up from his previous work straightaway, falling on you naturally. You avoid his eyes, knowing they’re a trap that’ll drown you back in the feelings you can’t give in to right now. Steve announces that they’ll catch you up on everything they’ve got so far, and so all you have to do is sit in your chair as they tell you names, places, faces, whatever the hell they’ve managed to scrape up and what they can do with it all—which is not much, right now. They talk about the tip lines and how unproductive they are but encourage you to just deal with it for the time being.

While in the midst of a rant about a time they ended up visiting a complete setup, Steve suddenly gets cut off by the ringing of his phone. He picks it up and answers, and your gaze falls to your thumbs as they play with each other in your lap. You refuse to look up, knowing who you’ll have to face if you do. You’ve been doing so well, and you’d hate to ruin it so fast. Your gaze only raises once again when you hear Steve hang up his phone, and you look to see him gathering his things.

“I hate to do this, but I gotta run,” Steve announces, looking between the both of you with a guilty expression. “Connie’s getting called in for something, and she needs me to watch Olivia.” Upon seeing your confusion, Steve gives you a clarification. “That’s my wife and adopted daughter.”

You nod, lifting your brow in an attempt to alleviate his guilt. “Don’t worry, Steve, it seems like not much is happening around here, anyway.”

Steve scoffs in agreement, grabbing his keys and stalling immediately after. He looks at them and then back at you. “Shit. Your stuff.”

You make a move to stand up, intending on going with him. “I can just—.”

“I got it, Murphy.” Your head snaps over to Javier upon hearing his interruption, and he’s already risen from his chair to walk over to Steve. “We’ll put it in my car, and I’ll bring her back when we’re done here.”

“You sure?” Steve seems almost dumbfounded, as if this is something extremely out of the ordinary for Javier. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. It probably is.

“Yeah. Now let’s go before Connie calls back asking where the hell you are.”

Steve chuckles, shaking his head as they walk down the hallway towards the exit. You sit in a panicked heap at your desk, staring blankly into its metallic surface as you try to determine how you’re going to keep yourself composed once you’re alone with Javier. Your fingers bounce on your thigh as your other hand runs over the crook your neck, a typical nervous habit of yours. The thoughts in your mind run so fast that you can’t keep up, and before you know it, his voice is breaking everything up again.

“You alright, bella?” Javier’s voice, while still rough, is softer than it’d been even just minutes before, and you watch him as he sits back in his chair and leans towards you. His dark gaze never leaves you. I wish he never left me.

You curse your thoughts mentally, instead forcing a small smile on your lips. “I’m fine. Just… adjusting.”

Javier raises an eyebrow at you. Your fingers begin to tap against your thigh again, and your hand slides back and forth over your neck. “You’re doing that thing.”

“What thing?”

“Your nervous thing.” He gestures to your neck and thigh with his head. Your mouth nearly falls open at that. You didn’t expect him to remember things like this anymore. You were sure he’d long since forgotten about you—but things like this are starting to make you think otherwise. “Are you nervous?”

You shrug. “Sounds like a lot of shit’s happening down here.”

“Not at the moment.”

Your lips make a thin line as you try to ignore the awkward tension swimming around due to both your inabilities to address the elephant in the room. “Well, that’s good, I guess.”

“No. It fucking sucks.”

“Oh, yeah, well—sorry about that.”

Javier stares at you blankly for a moment before the corners of his mouth start to twitch up. He lets out a curt laugh, shaking his head as he runs his hand over the back of his neck. “Dios mío, bella, relájate. You know me.”

You feel your anger begin to bubble up as you furrow your brow at him. “Do I?”

Javier’s eyes widen a bit, and you resist the urge to flinch at the shock and hurt his gaze reveals. “What do you mean?”

A crude chuckle leaves your lips as you cross your arms. “Javi, you’re acting like it hasn’t been almost twenty damn years since I last saw you, after leaving off on the worst of terms.”

Javier doesn’t respond at first. He only begins to look around nervously, as if he’s scanning the area for potential eavesdroppers. He then rises from his chair, beckoning you to do the same. “Let’s have this conversation somewhere else.”

You oblige, feeling more than glad to be getting the freedom to give Javier a piece of your mind. No, you chastise yourself. You can’t do that. You have to stay calm. But, after the hell you’ve lived in ever since he walked out of your life, how can you possibly do that? Everything went to shit after he left, and he never even checked back in to see if you were okay. It’s not his fault, but for some reason, you put a lot of the blame on him. Unfairly.

Your mind runs through all of this as you follow Javier to his Jeep, trying not to think about the times he’d opened the door for you that night. Once you’re both sitting inside, your mind envisions him holding your hand in his, and you shake your head to try and get rid of it. As soon as Javier starts pulling away from the building, he wastes no time continuing where you’d left off.

“So, you never thought about me all this time?” There’s a pained tone to Javier’s voice, and you feel a quick pain in your chest upon hearing it. “Is that why you’re saying you don’t know me?”

“No, Javi, you idiota. That’s just the problem—I have. A lot. But have you? Because it really seemed like you didn’t even want to remember me when you left that day.”

You see Javier’s jaw clench, but he remains silent for a few minutes before speaking again. “I was young and stupid then. I didn’t mean what I said, bella.”

You bite back a harsh remark requesting not to be called that, knowing it’s just second nature for him—a word with completely detached meaning. “If you didn’t mean it, then this wouldn’t be the first time I’ve seen you since that night.”

Javier’s hands tighten around the steering wheel, and you watch as his knuckles go white. “Well, you haven’t made much of an effort to see me, either.”

You scoff at his words, looking at him with widened eyes. “Because I thought you never wanted to see me again! What the fuck did you expect me to do? Beg for you to forgive me for being honest? You broke my fucking heart, Javier.”

Javier’s shoulders tense at that, but you’re too angry to read further into its meaning. Your gaze has now switched to the window, and you continue to look out and breathe in tempo with the bounces of the Jeep over the uneven Medellín streets. Javier’s silence is deafening, and you’re almost relieved when he speaks again to break it. “I never wanted to.” His words sound like they’ve been choked out, and it almost makes you tear your gaze away from the window. “I know it won’t mean much now, but… I’m sorry. I’m real fuckin’ sorry.”

You bite your lip to keep yourself from forgiving him on the spot. Those are some of the few words you’ve been craving to hear from him ever since he left, but you can’t give in that easily. There’s just too much he hasn’t addressed yet—things that you know and things that you don’t. He has to realize it’ll take time. So, once you compose yourself and take a deep breath, you speak to him again. “I appreciate it, Javi. But you have to know, we can’t go back to the way it was.” You finally look back over at him, trying to ignore the way his eyes are glossier than usual. “Maybe… maybe we can get there, but it’ll take time and work. Since we’re partners now, we have to be willing to do that. Especially for Steve’s sake.”

Javier nods right away. “I’m more than willing if you are.” He pauses as he arrives to the building, pulling into the small driveway and parking the Jeep before looking over at you. “You may not believe me, but I’ve really missed you, bella.”

You offer a small smile, trying to ignore the rush of feelings you gain from his words. “I’ve missed you too…” you trail off, hesitating before reaching into the depths of your strength to utter the last word, “… cariño.”

Javier’s eyes light up a bit at the sound of his familiar nickname, and he gives you a smile similar to your own before he steps out of the Jeep. You do the same, allowing him to help with a piece of luggage as he shows you to your apartment, which—lucky for you—is just down the hall from his. “Did Steve give you your key?” he asks, and you nod as you pull it out of your jeans pocket and show it to him. Javier gives a nod of approval, watching as you unlock the door and step inside. He sets the luggage down near the doorway, freezing in place after he does so. “I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow.”

You stop to look at him, nodding in response. Javier lifts his hand to offer an awkward wave before he steps out, closing the door behind him. You release a breath you haven’t realized you’ve been holding, and you find yourself plopping down onto the nearby couch. As you look around your new home, a wave of overwhelming feelings sweeps over you, and your face falls into your hands. You have a brand-new place to get used to, Escobar’s missing at large, and the man you still love is right down the hall, and he’s one of your new partners.

Maybe the true shitshow’s just getting started.

chapter 2

translations:

Dios mío, bella, relájate = My God, beautiful, relax

tags: @tarrevizslas @none-of-your-bullshit @lavenderl3mons @gooddaykate @flower-petal-blooming @mrsparknuts @fionnthebandersnacc @pisss-offf-ghostt @gaydreamland @longitud-de-onda @literallytrashhhhhh @arrowswithwifi @rage-isaquietthing @awesomefandomsunited @theforceofdarkandlight @murdermewithbooks @blushingwueen @marchingbass1 @madadlorian @ah-callie + three users that tumblr said didn’t exist! (stilllivindue2spite, kkgraham, irishleesh93)

#javier peña #javier pena #javi peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña fic #javier pena fic #collide fic #dindjarindiaries #narcos #narcos fic

[hey-hamlet]

BNHA AU Ideas: True Might

Also on AO3! 

TL;DR:  Powers don't make the hero - passion does. Luckily for Izuku and Toshinori, this is something the quirkless have in droves.

AKA: All Might is a quirkless vigilante, One for All isn't a quirk that exists and 1A gets a whole 3-week buffer before villain's start kicking their face in as opposed to the 3 days of canon.

Basically: Quirkless!Vigilante!All Might and Quirkless!Successor!(gen ed) UA Student!Midoriya. It’s a riot.

Yagi is stupid strong, his only form in this AU is basically Muscle Form from canon, but he’s a little less ridiculously cut. Not quite chubby, but huggable. This is mostly because he A, isn’t a celebrity that needs to have a marketable image and B, he really likes carbs.

He’s not exactly a vigilante by choice, in his day and age quirkless kids weren’t permitted to apply to UA, either gen ed or heroics. When Nezu got the job, that all changed, but it was a solid decade too late for Yagi.

He’s admittedly a little bitter about it, but he refuses to do anything but his best. He might be a little snippier with Pros than he really needs to be but oh well.

Katsuki and Izuku are utterly enamoured with this crazy vigilante that just doesn’t lose, refuses to back down from a fight even when he’s outmatched, and somehow coming out victorious anyway, rescuing everyone. They have a tense relationship, but often find time to get together and just ramble about how cool All Might is, share theories and dissect his fights. It’s not uncommon for Katsuki to have been hurling abuse at Izuku during class, only to show up at his house after school with a backpack full of snacks and a notebook full of questions.

Izuku knows most of what Katsuki does is to keep his status in the school. If he showed pity to a dumb quirkless runt he’d be painted with the same brush. This doesn’t make what Katsuki has done right! Only Izuku doesn’t blame him because he’s way too forgiving.

Izuku is the smartest person Katsuki knows and vice versa – they are each other’s measuring stick. Katsuki shows Izuku bravery, Izuku shows Katsuki determination.

Episode 1 goes as it does but you see a real flash of regret when Katsuki tells Izuku to jump off a roof because they are kinda-sorta friends. Izuku looks so betrayed. We meet the slime villain like before, All Might saves Izuku and 100% doesn’t expect the kid to fanboy about him and ask for two autographs – one made out to a “Kacchan”.

“Can someone quirkless be a hero?” “The whole world will be against you. Most places won't even give you a shot – no matter how good you are. You’re better off picking something else.”

Izuku is crushed but he does understand. All Might leaves and Izuku trails off kinda hopelessly. He follows the sounds of explosions without meaning to.

It’s Katsuki! He’s dying! Like usual at this point lmao. Izuku rushes in much like canon, All Might shows up, pulls Katsuki free and slams a dumpster on the slime villains head before making a speedy getaway. The police rip into Izuku but Katsuki actually defends him. “You were doing fuck all while I fucking died – don’t knock the only asshole who tried.” Izuku quietly slips him the autograph before running off the scene. Katsuki cries because Izuku got that for him even after he was such a fucking bastard that day? He can’t bring himself to be a dick to Izuku again, even only for show.

All Might finds Izuku and he's like “Sorry I was an ass I was being a dick because I had low self-esteem – I’m quirkless. If you’ll have me I’ll make you into the best hero the world had ever seen

Izuku, obviously, says yes please!

Also, hypermobile Izuku with joint braces as support gear because just let me project please my arms are killing me ( I wrote this a while ago and yes. My arms are still killing me - yes even now). He gets them after All Might sees him miss a dodge because his ankles rolled beneath him. They support his joints beyond the normal range of strength, letting him do some crazy pivots and handsprings, making it easy to support all his weight on a single-arm with very little strain. They can also lock in place, lessening muscle fatigue if he needs to hold onto something for ages and preventing injury if he’s pushing against something. Produced by David and Melissa Shield and imported through Nighteye Heroics.

Is support gear illegal for civilians to own? Yes! But medical equipment isn’t so if you can just convince people its medical not support you can get away with a lot.

Yagi has no weapons himself, other than the random shit he picks up and swings at people, and has little support gear other than a communicator, panic button, and a whole lot of zip-ties.

Izuku should probably have weapons but I’m struggling to think of anything other than war fans because how cool would that look? Because Shonen they would also have the ability to create powerful downdrafts that would give a boost to a jump or dodge.

Probably doesn’t get them until later and needs to train with them.

In this AU, One for All isn’t a quirk. Rather, it’s a role, passed from quirkless person to quirkless person, the only people who can’t be hard countered by All for One. They tend to be vigilantes, crime lords or hero managers, doing their part to foil as much of All for One’s plans as they can, through whatever means necessary.

It’s a role with a pretty high fatality rate.

No one knows All Might is quirkless other than those close to him, they instead think he has a strength quirk. He’s the most prolific vigilante in Japan and is almost as much of a household name as canon All Might. More divisive though, with most people decrying his vigilante status when he could ‘easily make a respectable hero’. He’s also pretty brutal with his takedowns of some villains, leading a lot of people to call him an unregulated brute. Still more call him a villain which, legally he would be - were he using a quirk.

Nighteye is his contact in the heroics industry, gives him loads of inside info that’s typically not something he should be passing on. He’s still close with David Shield. Nighteye imports any costume parts he needs from David and leaves them at various pickup points for Yagi.

He went to college with David in America after Nana died; America having a quirk blind admission process helped - but he’d have gotten shit talked a lot if people didn’t just assume he had a strength quirk. Dude was and is crazy big.

David was one of the only people that knew he was quirkless

OH FOR FUN; Nighteye was also going to this American college and that’s where he met All Might. The three of them became the world’s strangest group of friends and may have lowkey done some slightly illegal vigilante work around the campus and surrounding town. They had a reputation for getting no sleep ever and being the most mismatched set of people

Secretly Smart Jock, Business Man with a Touch of E-boy, Science Hipster. They all tumbled into class together with varying levels of alive-ness. Nighteye and David were very much not morning people.

UA! It’s a ride. Izuku fails the practical but he’s not shocked – he was prepared for this.

He actually got like 30 hero points? But they refused to admit him on hero points alone due to his ‘deficiencies’. They don’t exactly tell Izuku this but Aizawa was there and he was furious.

Gets into 1C with Shinsou, Shinsou fuckin hates him on sight for reasons best known to him (It’s bc he was so god damned cheerful he just – assumed Izuku had a quirk. I love Shinsou but he’s more than a little judgemental). Izuku is like smiling through the pain because he just wanted to make a friend his age – Katsuki barely counts.

He sits with him at lunch and makes friends-ish with the hero kids who dragged Katsuki along, meets Ochaco again. She’s upset he didn’t get in – especially after he tells her he apparently got 30 points. The whole table gets mad on his behalf and hes embarrassed and happy.

Like day 2 he’s leaving gym and someone is like “Oh LMAO it’s Deku – he was in the year below me at Aldera. Only fuckin quirkless kid in the whole school; can’t believe he got into UA.” He turns to Izuku. “Who’s dick did you suck to get in you - ?” And Shinsou just decks him. He grabs Izuku – who is super confused fyi – and s p r i n t s. They have to stop after a while because hes having a panic attack and Shinsou doesn’t know what the fuck to do and he’s mad and upset and the sunshine boy is sobbing –

Aizawa shows up, having seen the (end of the) altercation and is ready to expel some gen ed kids he can’t legally expel – until he sees the two kids from the entrance exam he was interested in – including the quirkless kid who should have gotten in. Well he’s much more willing to hear them out.

100% requests expulsion on those 2 2E kids because that’s Discrimination and they should know better as second years. Nezu grants it because those 2 were di ck s

No USJ because no All Might – stuff like that will come,,, later : )

Sports Fest! Izuku and Shinsou kick ass, Aizawa is Watching. All Might may have gotten in as a crowd member with Nighteye and a visiting David and Melissa and they are cheering on their sun son. Also, Nighteye is going to go cheer on Mirio so he just got a pass to attend all 3 days of the sports festival. He’s just buying snacks on the second day because he’s never talked to one of the second years in his life.

Shinsou and Izuku make it to the tournament. Izuku has been training pretty seriously with All Might for a while now and hes a very good fighty boy. Makes it to the 3rd round of the tournament where he loses to Iida. Shinsou makes it second where he loses to Katsuki. Izuku is like “Iida might you be Ingenium’s brother or something?” “Yes, I am!” “OH MY GOD I LOVE INGENIUM ISN’T HE THE COOLEST” “YES MY BROTHER IS AMAZING” Shinsou is just watching while faintly amused.

#bnha au #true might au #bnha #All Might #yagi toshinori #shinsou hitoshi #midoriya izuku #aizawa shouta

[burnedbyshoto]

Pocky Challenge

Kinktober Day 10 ~ kink: biting/marking

pairing: switch!sero hanta x switch fem!reader

warnings: smut, cursing, ya know the drill

word count: 3,833

a/n: this is my first time writing for sero so LMAO IF I GET HIS CHARACTER WRONG DONT @ ME, anyways I hate yall for making me write smut as the first thing for so many characters........ but this is super cute and we love an story with bakusquad so eAT IT UP. also its a switch because yall were on god 50/50 for dom or sub sero

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Sero Hanta prided himself on being a reasonably laid-back guy. He knew when to light the fire under his ass, but most of the time he was chill.

Many people go as far as to say they’d never seen him freak out. That was also true, as Sero tried to be as level headed as possible, even when facing grave odds. So it was no surprise that when he was freaking out, everyone panicked.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN Y/L/N IS COMING TO MY ROOM?” Sero screamed as he desperately tried rearranging his neat house. “I CAN’T LET HER SEE MY HOME LIKE THIS?!”

“Do you think y/l/n thinks Sero doesn’t live here?” Kaminari staged whispered to Kirishima who knocked him in the ribcage with his elbow.

“Sero, I think you need to calm down! I’m sure she’s not going to judge! Is there anything we can do to help?” Kirishima asks, his hands going to pick up shoes Sero had left outside of his closet.

“I’m not going to fucking help out,” Bakugou rolled his eyes as he scoffs. Kirishima rammed his elbow into Bakugou’s ribcage.

“WHY WOULD MINA INVITE HER OVER?!” Sero screams as he moves around the home in a whirlwind. Tape shooting everywhere and the desperate words of Kirishima were being entirely muffled.

“Well, Mina said she is very tired of us bozos, or something like that. Plus, y/l/n is her best friend.” Kaminari says throwing an arm around Sero who was panting. Desperate to see what marginal thing he could fix. “I think your house looks great!”

“Yeah, super manly!”

The three of them looked over at Bakugou who had his arms crossed, face twisted into a scowl. “It’s okay.” He muttered and Sero nearly collapsed in relief.

The front door then swung open, Mina marching in with a large grin as you followed in afterward. A pack of pocky in your hands. “Alrighty, my dumb babies,” Mina proclaimed thrusting a box in her hands forward. “Who’s ready to lose at some trivia?!”

“Let’s hope there isn’t any academic stuff in there, huh raccoon eyes.”

“I told you Kacchan, nothing you say hurts me!” Mina cackles as she sat down, and Kirishima had to restrain Bakugou from fighting the pink girl.

“Nice house, Sero!” You exclaimed looking around with a bright smile. “I haven’t seen it in a while.”

Sero nearly faints in Kaminari’s arms as the six of you sink to the ground. Mina screaming the instructions and the teams. Sero froze as you sank next to him, smiling broadly as you shifted the boxes opening towards him, “Did ya want one?” You ask.

“I really LOVE POCKY!” Sero yelps and your grin fades and everyone stared at him. Sero wheezes at the encouraging thumbs up Kirishima and Kaminari flash him. The hard facepalm by Bakugou, and the smirk from Mina. You are oblivious though. You laugh, shaking your head, once again offering the box. “Thank you.”

“Are you sure we can’t ask her to leave, this is embarrassing for me.” Bakugou hisses at Kirishima who shakes his head.

“Leave him alone, it’s not every day you’re eighteen and in love with a beautiful girl.”

Sero laughs a bit too loudly at something you say. He flushes and begins choking on the chocolate covered pretzel.

“I’m going to fucking kill him.”

“No, you won’t!”

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Sero glances over at you. You were in what was a rather intensive battle against Kaminari. Both of you arguing over what was the right answer because, “I know what I’m talking about, and you’re the idiot here!”

“KIRISHIMA!” Both of you shouted at the same time. Kirishima choked. His hands waving to calm down his a bit too passionate about trivia partners. “WHO’S RIGHT?!”

“I told you, I have no idea what the names of the CareBears are!” Kirishima said, scratching his cheek.

“Thirty seconds!” Bakugou snaps, eager for this time to tap out as they have because no one on their team knew anything apparently.

“KAMINARI, I’M TELLING YOU CAREBEAR IS PINK WITH A DAMN FUCKING RAINBOW!”

“NO, CARE BEAR IS YELLOW WITH A SUN!”

“HOW DOES THAT EVEN MAKE SENSE?! WHY WOULD THE SUN BE ASSOCIATED WITH CARING?!”

“OH, I DON’T KNOW? SUN GIVES VITAMIN D! WHICH MAKES YOU HAPPY!”

“YOU’RE SO FUCKING DUMB!!!”

“Care Bear is pink with a rainbow, final answer.” Kirishima groans as you scream in victory.

Sero freezes as both you and Kaminari snap their attention to him, after all, he had the answer. “Y-You’re correct!”

“DAMNIT SHITTY HAIR, WHY DIDN’T YOU LISTEN TO DUNCE FACE?!”

“The vitamin D thing really turned me off.”

“...touche.”

Sero sighed as everyone got up, it was well past three a.m., and your team had finally won. Sero didn’t even have time to stand up before everyone was gone. Shouts of goodnights filling the house. As well as Bakugou complaining about not being able to get the proper hours of rest he needed. All while Kaminari made fun of him.

“They clear out really fast.” You state from besides Sero, and he freezes.

“Oh… ye-yeah they do that a lot!” Sero grins over at you. He savors in the fact that you seem comfortable around him. Your shoulders caving as you groan.

“Well, thanks for hosting! You guys are definitely a lot different to hang out with than Uraraka and co.”

“R-Really? It’s not like this?”

“Well… we don’t have a Bakugou to bully as you guys do, so no!” You giggle and Sero laughs. Both of your hands moving for the Pocky in the box.

You both freeze as it’s the last one, and Sero yanked his hand away, face blushing. His voice stammering out an apology as you laugh it off. “It’s okay, we can share!” You state, and Sero watches as you place the chocolate pretzel between your lips. “Come on.” Your muffled voice states.

“W-Wait, what?”

With a grin, you take the pretzel out of your mouth, a crooked grin on your face. “You have heard of Pocky Challenge, right?” Sero nods his head, of course, he has! At this point who hasn’t? “Play it with me?”

Your words are innocent enough, but the gleam in your eyes, and the feeling in your smile makes Sero moan. His hands slam over his mouth, face flushed red, and embarrassed pants leaving his lips. Your eyes only gleam brighter as you shift closer. The snack swinging in-between your teeth.

“I mean, unless I’m reading into things wrong, you do like me right? If not I’ll totally forget this!” You say, your hands touching the tops of his thighs. A seductive smirk on your face.

Sero nods his head, breathes escaping his nose harshly. Too fast to be normal. Too fast for Sero Hanta! He watches as your fingers raise the pretzel up to his mouth, shaking it slightly as you grin. “Open wide.”

And he does.

Sero quivers under your weight as the two of you take another bite. His heart feels like it’s about to rip out of his chest as another bite happens. He can feel your breath hitting his chin. He almost snaps the Pocky. Sero groans as you crawl closer, your lips so close it’s frustrating. The smell of perfume overwhelming him as you’re one more bite away.

Then it happens, your lips pressed against his. You jaw moving as you chew, and Sero forgets how to breathe as you crawl onto his lap. His hands trembling against your skin. Sero feels like fainting as your arms wrap around his neck, your hips shifting to sit better against his lap. It’s too much to handle, it’s too much for him to take in as you move.

Sero pulls away panting, and you grin as you kiss down his neck. Sero moaning as your teeth bites into his skin. “I win.” You whisper against his skin and Sero gawks at you. Unable to think of anything to say as you continue sucking and biting on the same spot. A lecherous moan escaping his lips as your hip easily rolls in rhythm with your love bites.

“D-Does this, shit, does this mean you like me?” Sero squeaks under your mouth. You pull away from his neck, and Sero groans. The spot you were paying attention to feels rough and sore, and most definitely throbbing.

“I’ve liked you since our first year, Sero.” You state, your lips pressing against his own softly. “You’re the one who’s catching up here.”

“B-But I-I, oh my god!” Sero groans. Your mouth is back over his jugular. Your teeth nipping, nibbling, and biting over the sensitive skin. Sero throws his head back overwhelmed by your increased passion. His breathing is heavy as your lips and teeth continue their assault. His senses are overwhelming as you shift towards his collarbones. Your hips now rocking against his. Sero moans as a particular roll has him now completely hard.

You take notice in it as you pull his shirt off over his head, your grin devious as your lips press against his once again. “You have no idea how long I wanted to do this.” You sigh as your fingers run up and down his toned skin. “You’re the worst at focusing on someone.”

“I-I’m sorry!” Sero squeaks as your canines drag against his chest, your arms pushing him down. His back hitting the cold floor. Sero can feel his cock twitch as your mouth never stops biting its way down. He can see the purple bruises and teeth marks everywhere. The entire display of dominance making him thrust his hips against your own.

A moan escapes your lips. A sound Sero only heard in his wet dreams, a sound he could only imagine. A sound he very much so loved as you continued down. Your teeth biting down on his nipple.

“Y/l/n!” Sero squeaks, his hands attaching to your waist as you giggle.

“I’m leaving your body in hickies, I think the least you can do is call me y/n.” You tease, your eyes staring into Sero’s soul as you leaned down, your tongue swirling around his nipple. Sero squeaks at how erotic it looks, something he never imagined to happen ever.

He grunts as your lips trail further down, your fingers ghosting over his hard cock. He watches with wide eyes as you groan. “Hanta, I don’t think you even know how beautiful you are.”

Sero freezes as your hands unbutton his shorts, and he lets out a low hiss as you remove the fabric. Sero pants as the tented materials of his underwear capture your attention. “Aw, are you excited to see me?” You giggle as Sero laughs.

“I’m going to say yes,” Sero teases, and you grin.

“I was wondering where your personality went.” You giggle, and your fingers hook around his waistband. “May I?”

“Please?”

Sero watches with almost pure fascination as your fingers peel away his boxers. His cock springing out, and your hand grasping it firmly within your fist. “Now,” You say with a sigh. “I know you’re excited and all, but as you lost, you’re not allowed to come into my mouth.”

“Wait, what--y/n!”

Your mouth envelopes around his hard dick. Sero hisses as his fingers lock around your hair. His hips unconsciously bucking into your throat. The sound of you gagging fills his ears, and it’s a sound that has Sero cursing everything in existence. Your mouth slides up and down his length. Whatever you’re not easing down your throat is being stroked with your hand.

Sero head slams against his floor, pulling you against his length. You choke slightly, relaxing your jaw and throat as you take on more. His hips work in rhythm with your mouth, allowing for the two of you to feel comfortable as you go down on him. Sero trembles as your hands squeeze his balls firmly in your fingers. His eyes rolling as you massage them.

“Fuck, y-y/n, I needa… SHIT! I need to--” Sero’s hips are frantic in your mouth.

You gag as he hits the back of your throat at full force. Tears springing into your eyes as you try adjusting to having his length down your throat. You grasp his waist as you open your mouth larger, his hips snapping into your mouth with no mercy.

The simple excitement of the man you’ve had a crush on for the longest time sends pressure through your body. The liquid heat of your arousal soaking through your panties.

You moan around his dick, his hips relentless in their conquest. Your eyes can barely keep themselves open on Sero as he fucks your face. “You’re so amazing, y/n.” Sero groans as dick spasms within your mouth, and you choke around him. Fire erupting in your lungs from the lack of oxygen, but it feels so good.

You felt the head of his cock hit the back of your throat as you pulled away despite his grip on your hair. “Don’t be thinking you’re going to be able to come!” You pant, your chest heaving as you try to gain your air back.

But you shriek as Sero sits up, and in one smooth motion as you on your back. Arching against the floor, you hiss at the cold feeling as Sero’s mouth lavishes your skin.

“What are you gonna do to me?” You gasp as Sero bites down on the skin behind your ear.

“Whatever you want,” Sero growls. You sigh as your hands come and press against his chest, his black hair tickling your skin.

“I want you to hit me,” You start, and Sero freezes against your skin. “I want you to bite me, and I want to be breathless.”

You remain still as he pulls away, his black eyes filled with worry and lust. “Are you sure? T-This is my first time, and… well, I don’t want to disappoint you.”

Your fingers touch the back of his head and pull his bruised lips towards yours. You kiss him sweetly, making his chest still as you pull away. “The only way you could ever disappoint me is if you never use your tape on me.”

Sero laughs, pressing his nose to your neck.

“Alright, y/n. I’ll try, no promises I’ll be any good.”

“Oh, you special baby, we both know you’ll have me screaming your name tonight.”

Sero pants his head shaking as he nips your neck. “If you keep saying such crude things I may come even before getting inside you.”

“That would be amazing for me!”

Sero groans but his hands grasp your breasts and squeeze, making your laughter die on your lips as you moan. “H-Hanta.”

“How I see it, you’re not in a position to be laughing at me, babe.” Sero almost mocks. His teeth biting down hard on your collarbone, and you shriek at the pleasure shooting down your body. “I don’t think I can hit you, not tonight at least. But I will make sure you’re bitten and breathless before I’m done with you.”

Your heart hammers in your chest as Sero’s mouth sucks harshly on your tender skin. Your body pressing into his as you moan loudly. “Yes, that feels so good!” You flush as his teeth mark your skin. Sero wasting no time to shift over to an unmarked area of your skin to make more indentions and bruises. Your button-up shirt gets ripped apart. Buttons flying as Sero continues his conquest lower and lower.

Your breathing staggers as Sero marks your breasts. The paler color of your breasts, in comparison to the rest of your body, made the love bites stand out. Sero simply shoving your bra down. You groan as your arms circle below you to remove your bra. Laughing slightly as his teeth attach onto your nipple. Sero mimics your earlier motions, his eyes locked on your burning face.

You shudder as he pulls away with a wet pop, and you stare as he pulls down your skirt, your black tights in his way.

“Do you mind if I--?” Sero asks. His hands grabbing the wet crotch and tearing the fabric in two, your shocked gasps ringing in his ears.

“HANTA!”

But his fingers sink into your waiting cunt, and you pant as his fingers thrust in and out of you. They curl slightly, and your almost shriek makes Sero grin widely.

Your body thrashes on his pumping fingers, and Sero laughs. His lips pressing against your inner thighs. Your head throws back as his teeth sink into your soft flesh, and your hands slam on the floor as you cry out his name.

“You’re so pretty, fucking yourself around my fingers,” Sero states with a grin. His mouth still pressing into your trembling legs as you place marks against your legs. “Such a pretty girl.”

“Hanta, I sw-swear to god!” You moan as your hips roll against his fingers, and Sero laughs.

His fingers pull out of you now throbbing sex, your eyes heavy as you glare at Sero who stands up. Your eyes widen as his tape wraps around your wrists, pulling you to your feet. “You see, I’ve been imagining this day for a very long day, and I’m not fucking you in my living room, sweetheart.” Sero sighs, biting down on a purple bruise on your neck, and you whine loudly. “You had high expectations of me this first time around, and I won’t disappoint you.”

You whimper against his chest. Your thighs rubbing together to release what little tension you could get rid of. His fingers grasped your waist, and you were then hoisted up onto your feet. Your bondage arms slammed between both of your chests, as you groan.

His lips are back on yours, and you shudder as he begins walking down to what you assume is his room as he tosses you on the bed. You move to shift better on the bed, but Sero flips you onto your stomach. Your face turns red as he bites down on your ass, and you slam your face into the mattress.

“Did that embarrass you?” Sero chuckles against your flesh, and you moan in affirmation. “After all that teasing I was expecting you to be a bit tougher to crack.”

“I’m not a brat!” You exclaim. Your body shuddering at the feeling of the tip of his cock teasing your slick, throbbing entrance. “Just stick it in or else I will mount your dick for you.”

“You’re quite the talker.” Sero teases as he easily slides his cock in all the way. Your tangled moans are music to your ears as he began thrusting in and out.

Your breathing hitches as Sero pushes your chest into the mattress. His knees sinking into the mattress and the new angle furthering your pleasure as he thrusts in and out. His speed is almost too slow, and you grunt, shoving your ass back onto his moving hips, and Sero grunts.

“You’re so fucking tight, you need to wait.” Sero hisses, and you laugh.

“Like hell.” You say, your hips increasing in speed. Your tied arms supporting your arched position as his hands grip your skin. His grip will definitely leave bruises, and it excites you even more so as he slowly begins moving with you.

His speed and power overcoming yours, and soon all you can do is scream into the mattress as he’s ramming into you. Sero’s hips snapping deliciously into you. The sounds of your dripping sex resonating throughout the room.

“Mmm, you look so hot like this, baby.” Sero moans. You moan as Sero grinds his hips against yours, his hand snaking around your legs to press onto your clit.

You cry out when his hand comes down hard on your ass, your body nearly giving out as he did so. “H-Hanta!” You squeak, as his hand comes down hard again. Pleasure pained screams fill the room and Sero grunts as his speed increase behind you. A grin on his face, his eyes fascinated with the way your ass shook with his spanks and thrusting.

Again and again, he spanked you.

More and more, the pressure within you built.

The coil in your belly tightening as you struggle to keep from pouring over the edge. Lecherous mewls escaping your mouth as you back arches further onto the bed.

“You’re so fucking hot, y/n,” Sero grunts his fingers pinching your clit, and you sob into the mattress. You felt as if your ass was on fire, it was stinging in the most delicious way as he rammed into you. Sero seemed to be uncaring about how much your pussy was clenching around his cock. It never once interfered with his actions as his hips thrust into you. A rhythm that you could no longer keep up with. “Do you need to cum?” Sero pants and your head nods desperately against the mattress.

“Yes, I need to fucking cum.” You cry as he shifts his hips, and slams back into you.

You swear you can almost see stars as he does so, your eyes rolling back.

He’s found his g-spot, and he continues slamming into the same spot with a breathy laugh.

You’re breathing is hitching. Lack of oxygen burning at your lungs as he slams into it over and over. Shrill screams leaving your mouth as the pressure shoots throughout your body. Your body thrashing against his beating hips and hand.

You come as Sero leans on top of you, his mouth biting the crook of your neck.

Your scream is silent, and your cunt clenched around his moving cock and Sero grunts. His teeth biting harder as his hips continue pounding into you. His speed is unwavering as he chases after your orgasm. Cries finally are heard from you, as your pussy still flutters around his cock and Sero groans.

He unloads his hot seed in you, and you collapse as soon as he pulls out.

“Oh, my god.” You breathe heavily as Sero falls onto the bed beside you, his hands pulling through your hair.

“W-Was I any good?” Sero asks, trying to capture his breath.

“The best.” You say scooting closer to him, and Sero laughs as he cuddles you close.

“I like you, a lot.” Sero sighs pressing a kiss to your damp forehead. “Can I take you out on a date sometime?”

You look up at him, pressing a kiss to his lips, “I would love that…”

The two of you lay in your blissful silence, his hands slipping the tape off your bruised wrists. You smile as you’re able to wrap your arms around him, and the two of you stay. For however long.

“You really bruised me up, I have your hands printed on my ass.”

“...sorry, but you asked for that.”

“True, hashtag no ragRETS!”

“You’re so dumb.”

“Hey, as your girlfriend, I will warn you that you should have known about that a while ago!”

“Hm… true. Hashtag no ragrets.”

“‘Atta boy.”

#sero hanta #sero x reader #sero hanta x reader #sero smut #bnha sero #mha sero #bnha writing blog #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha smut #mha #mha x reader #mha smut #burnedbyshoto does kinktober #bnha kinktober #mha kinktober

[rchtzr]

reddie fic rec

I started this list a while ago, but here’s something to help us while we self isolate

COMPLETED FICS

Winterbreak (Push and Pull) by @thegloryof Summary: Oh baby, I think we both know this is a love we won't get right. Still, if you said that you wanted, I know I'll always have one more try. (Five times Richie and Eddie get it wrong and the one time they just might get it right.) My thoughts: This is it, my FAVORITE Reddie fic. I’m currently on my fourth re-read. Why I love it: 1) the Stozier friendship that is depicted here is *chef’s kiss*. It’s Richie centric and his friendship with each loser is presented really well, but this is the Stan & Richie content I’ve needed in my life. 2) The angst is perfect. If you’ve ever had a close friendship deteriorate this will probably hit you where it hurts but like, in a good way? I can’t recommend this story enough I love it.

Skin&Earth series by @hanscom Summary: A love song to both the Losers' Club and Lights' Skin & Earth album. My thoughts: This was the first Reddie fic I ever read. I hadn’t read fic in y e a r s, but I was still devastated after recently viewing It ch 2 and was like, eh. why not. I have been hooked since.

the edification of eddie kaspbrak by @kaspbrak Summary:ed·i·fi·ca·tion (n.) /ˌedəfəˈkāSH(ə)/ the instruction or improvement of a person morally or intellectually.

Eddie thinks that sometimes, the saddest stuff life is made of isn’t the permanence of death, but the tragedy of losing something you can still have.or, Eddie Kaspbrak falls and learns how not to hit the ground. My thoughts: I feel like it’s a fandom classic? But if you haven’t read it you need to. This fic spans years of Eddie’s life and his relationship with Richie. I’m just saying that maybe film canon could’ve taken a few notes from this final battle with IT

Satan Is My Username by @toziesque Summary: The delicacy of a man made numb by a life long effort to keep it all out, and the archaic entrance of a trigger in the form of an anti-Trashmouth Twitter activist.

@doctor_k: Richie Tozier's comedy is duller than the ache in my left testicle. #trashmouth

"It consumes us from the inside until we don't have a choice anymore."

(A slight AU in which the phone calls don't come, but Richie and Eddie find each other, anyway) My thoughts: There is a playlist that goes with one of the chapters and it is... incredible. I ugly cried to this fic in the best way. I downloaded a few of the songs from the playlist and whenever they come on shuffle I become that Kermit meme where he’s looking out a window into the rain. You know the one. Read this asap let me name the stars for you by @rchtoziers Summary: “So. To summarize. I’m stranded on Mars, entirely alone. I have absolutely no way to communicate with my crew or with earth, since our communications antennae turned me into a human shish-kabob. If the oxygenator becomes compromised, I’ll suffocate. If the water reclaimer stops working, I’ll dehydrate. Breach in the Hab means I’ll go poof. And if, for some god-forsaken reason none of those things kill me first, I’m gonna run out of food and starve to death. Oh, and we can’t forget that everyone I know thinks I’m dead. So… yup. Totally fucked.” * On Sol 6, an unexpected windstorm cuts the Ares III Mission short and six astronauts retreat back to Earth.On Sol 7, the astronaut they left behind wakes up gasping for air.(Or, The Martian au) My thoughts: This part is completed but it’s part of an on-going series. When I tell you I cried. I saw the movie The Martian years ago because a friend wanted to see it and I enjoyed it. BUT I LOVED THIS. The love Eddie and Richie have for each other is PALPABLE. And while it focuses mainly on Richie, every character feels substantial and real and like their personalities work. You simply have to read it. In Fact, Everything's Got That Big Reverb Sound by @dystopiary Summary: Richie Tozier deals with dry socket, the prodigal sister, shifting dynamics in his friendships, babysitting, and the maddening unavailability of Eddie Kaspbrak. My thoughts: I am a Richie Tozier lover first, and a human second, and I really loved this Richie and thought this story was refreshing and different and really well written. I Would Have by @blissymbolics Summary: “I would’ve let you. You didn't even need to ask. I would’ve let you.” My thoughts: Anything that deals with Eddie and Richie regretting time lost with each other really hurts me deeply and this is written really well. I also really like their other one shots!

WIPS

ribs by mikeshanlon  Summary: // you're the only friend I need sharing beds like little kids laughing 'til our ribs get tough but that will never be enough // --- Almost every time the lights turn off and they cram in the shitty twin bed, Richie seems to become a different person. Maybe not different, per say, but the stupid jokes and teasing die down, the guard of nonchalance dropping. Eddie feels lucky to see this side of Richie, soft and caring-- vulnerable. It’s not like he hates the other side of Richie, he secretly enjoys their constant banter and his dumb jokes. No, it’s that this side is rare, and it’s something beautiful. Here, safe in the soft flannel sheets, it feels like they are the only two souls for miles, and they can be themselves, and that is terrifying and reassuring all at once.“I’m gonna miss this. When we go off to college,” Richie admits, the weight behind his words telling Eddie he felt the same about their shared nights.“Yeah,” Eddie agrees softly, “Me too.” My thoughts: I... I love this fic so, SO much. I read each update as soon as I can. I feel completely immersed in each scene. The yearning... I feel like I’m drastically underselling how great I think this is. Just read it. pls.

& That’s For All Time by @tossertozier Summary: It's the summer before college, and Richie Tozier is prepared for approximately nothing to change. The club works at a Renaissance Faire, and somehow in between the turkey legs, marathons of Super Smash brothers and cheap beer, some of them have time to fall in love. My thoughts: This is more Losers Club focused than straight Reddie, and each loser is really well rounded. The tags “you think you’ve read slow burns, you wait, you just wait” are the most accurate tags. I never thought I was into playlist fics until ch 25. (I think it’s 25? idk when you get there you’ll know and it is AMAZING) Honestly the fic could never be updated again and I’d be completely satisfied with where it’s at currently so if you’re wary of wips it’s worth it. there's an angel and he's shaped like you by @89tozier Summary: "Guess I owe you one, huh?" Richie chuckles.Across the table, the boy blinks at him with those dark eyes, slow and calculated like a cat. For a moment Richie is struck with the terrible fear that he's going to end up in shreds and spatters of gore, too, but then the boy simply shrugs his narrow shoulders, digging his spoon back into the bowl and helping himself to another mouthful of Froot Loops. In the yellow kitchen light Richie catches the remnants of blood on his chin."I'll take that as a yes." Or: Richie, on the cusp of fifteen, knows he should be worrying about kissing girls and sneaking out and keeping his grades up just enough to warrant fewer trips to the principal’s office. ‘Harboring a runaway half-vampire in my bedroom in exchange for saving my life’ was never supposed on that list. Richie still isn’t sure it should be. My thoughts: @owlpip’s art for this fic is what initially inspired me to read it. I looooved this story. Very angsty and sweet at the same time. I want to say a lot but I feel like you just need to read it. Angels in Outfields by @reddie-for-anything Summary: He slams his locker shut just in time to see Stan walking over, smug look on his face and something clutched in his left hand.“I think I might have found the perfect thing for you,” he says. His voice is smooth and easy and his eyes read trouble. He raises his hand and holds a flyer in front of Richie’s faceDerry High School Baseball Tryouts Week of February 25th Please come with running clothes, a baseball mitt, running shoes, and cleats.“Oh, fuck no,” Richie says. He doesn’t even need to read the whole thing to know that this isn’t his jam. Nothing about this has is name on it and no. Fuck no. This isn’t happening.Except it is.Richie takes solace in his inability to play any kind of physical sport ever. He knows he’ll hate this, but he also knows he won’t make the team. Not in a million years. My thoughts: Do I know anything about baseball? No. Do you need to know anything about baseball to enjoy this fic? Also no. If you enjoy Stan/Bev/Richie being good friends, blonde!Eddie, jock!Eddie, angst, slow burn.... You’ll love this.

ONESHOTS

I Would Not Wish Any Companion In The World But You by @queen-sock Summary: 9th January 2003 // 06:24amThere are fifty four seats on the subway. Fifty four seats split across two carriages. Eddie knows this because he’s counted them. He’s counted them, over and over again, when he boards at seventy-eighth street, and takes the blue line south into the city every day at 06:24am. The air whips around his head cruelly, a mocking tempest that whispers in his ear, the rest of the world slumbers, the rest of the world sleeps like the dead. The subway station is buried deep in the underbelly of the street, five flights of stairs below the surface. Eddie descends every day, Persephone to her kingdom beneath the earth, a daily pilgrimage that he’d rather not take.The air whips around his head, a bizarre faux-breeze created by the whooshing of the subway trains, and Eddie seethes silently. [OR: Eddie gets the 06:24 train into the city, Richie joins the train at 06:45. Somehow, they always seem to be on the same carriage] My thoughts: This and De Profundis are really beautiful fics and they’re unlike any other stories I’ve read in this fandom. Highly recommend! De Profundis by @queen-sock Summary: Considering it was the first time in just under a month that they had spent more than brief moments in the hallways together, small waves and tiny smiles at each other over the raging sea of other students, before one of them got swept up in the tide and was pulled away before greetings could be exchanged.“I’m going to take a lit elective,” Richie said, as easily as if he’d just told Eddie that it was going to snow the next day. “Oh, and it’s supposed to snow tomorrow”“Pardon?”“Yeah, the weather dude said we were supposed to get a few inches over-night, but I’ve got a few inches I can give him overnight if you catch my drift,” Richie said, grabbing at his crotch gratuitously.‘What? No -- gross. I’m not -- No. I meant the lit elective, you’re taking a lit class?”“Yup,” Richie said, popping the ‘p’ like it was bubblegum, “I got it all sorted a few weeks ago, actually. I’m taking the ‘poetry and experiment’ class” [Or, Ben starts a new literary journal for the University of Maine, and, unbeknownst to each other, Eddie and Richie start submitting poems under psuedonyms] little pieces of the nothing that fall by @spunknbite Summary: Eddie shook his head, lips quirking upwards in a confused half-smile that Richie was immediately drawn to. “You seem stupid familiar,” he said with a laugh.“I don’t think we know each other,” Richie replied, then added, like the moron he was, “I’d remember you.”This guy wasn’t the sort you forgot.*Or, the one where it's 1998 and Richie sits down at the bar next to an asshole with a Palm Pilot. My thoughts: You HAVE. TO. READ. THIS. You just. Have to. Slow down, you crazy child by @anderbum Summary: Richie looks down at his own body and like the bed and the bedroom before it, he doesn’t recognize what he sees.A broken sound escapes his lips and he slaps his hand to his mouth. Then he pulls his hand away, looks at it again, and slaps it back in place before his mouth gets any smart ideas.“What the fuck,” he says against his not-hand. (A 13 Going on 30 AU, sort of.) My thoughts: Such a good idea and so well executed. Boyfriend by Anonymous Summary: Based on this post by tumblr user chenetic: Imagine Eddie being harrassed by someone at a party who can’t take a hint until Richie comes over and wraps an arm around his waist and says “sorry babe, they don’t have the drink you like here, who’s this?” and Eddie plays along until the person leaves and Eddie thanks him and asks for his name but Richie just says playfully, “you don’t know your boyfriend’s name?” and all through the night Richie follows him around as if they didn’t literally just meet.(In which Richie and Eddie don't remember that they know each other, when they meet at a college party) My thoughts: A meet cute but they’re both human disasters. In the best way. Okay I’ve had to save this draft a few times and the formatting of the post has become a nightmare so I’m going to stop here for now. If anyone has any fics they want to rec me, pls do!

#richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #reddie #reddie fic #fic rec #the fact that on desktop everything is bolded correctly but not on mobile is driving me nuts #but i also can't edit it on mobile #so #i'm sorry

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Broken Families (Favored Ones, Part 16.)

Series description: Many things were surely fucked up in the year 2038, but no-one ever told anyone how all of it went down. What happened before a group of people left for Seattle to handle personal matters? Why did one girl refuse to leave all of it be? And why there were so many dead in the end?

Part summary: Abby stayed true to what she said. She made you scream in pain that day.

A/N: So, Abby is here. And she’s here to play some golf, y’know. She likes iron clubs better than iron ones and... Just kidding, Owen and Tommy are about to play a game.

Warning: Gore, blood, some torturing, Abby; Tommy and Owen playing golf. 

Word count: 4.2 K

Tagging:   @nemodoren @xxgoldenhour @missdictatorme​​ @peakymarvels​​ @davnwillcome​ @pickleriiick​ @jodiereedus22​ @gladiosamicitias​ @tamkashi​ @eternallyvenus​ @avengerssstuff​ @fangirl-inthe-us​ @avery-miller​ @mikah-writes​ @mad-hatter-98​ @sadiaafrin99​ @flavorishy

Series master list: H E R E

Joel Miller’s playlist for the bonfire occasions: H E R E

Youtube playlists: JACKSON DAYS | SEATTLE DAYS

Another steel nail under your nail. How many of them were already there? Twenty? Thirty? Jesus, it was hard to count at that point. Especially, when you had a problem to even breathe or to see what was happening around you. The woman didn't lie. As soon as she told Tommy what she wants to do with you, she started with it. Her comrades took the jacket, gloves, and pants off of you, no matter how hard you tried to fight back, taping you to the chair with silver duck tape.

First, she was punching your stomach while the man named Owen held the chair, so you wouldn't fall on your back as he told you some nasty things. When your stomach was fucked up enough for you to spill blood, she moved to punch your face. Yeah, you couldn't see with one eye and your nose surely broken at one point, since the blood was all over your breasts. Or was it the one you spat? Jesus, it was so hard to tell.

Then, to keep you breathing and full of consciousness, they brought nails and a small hammed, and oh boy, that was where the fun started. You didn't scream until that point, but now, every inch of the nail digging into your meat was followed by a high-pitched cry. You were trying to wiggle out of the chair, but Owen was leaning into it with his full weight. It appeared as if it made Abby happy to see you scream in pain, crying, and bleeding. Either she was happy or she barely notices. Both of the options were equally probable.

Abby was trying to break Tommy down. It wasn't about you, no, you were just Abby's plaything. One of you had to know Joel and sooner or later, one of you had to spill the truth. They chose to torture you since you were the smaller, more fragile one. It must've been so hard for a man to see a woman he cared about getting hurt without having a chance to help you. Well, he had a chance, but he didn't.

They handcuffed Tommy, so he would sit in front of you, and they taped his head to the wood, so he couldn't see anything but you.

Yet, for how fragile you might've seen at the beginning when Abby was choking you, you haven't said a word. Which was surprising for both of you. You wouldn't suspect you could have so much willpower inside of you. You were looking at Tommy, your look alone was telling him not to say a word. Where, for the love of God, was the girl who almost broke down when Harry was killed by the infected?

Everything about your posture was telling Tommy that you'll make it. You could take in a lot, right? You were a survivor, it wasn't too wise to fuck around with you or your family. If they killed you? You were madly in love, you didn't honestly care. As long as Joel was away from that place, you could take it somehow. Sooner or later, Ellie, Dina, Maria, or Jesse had to show up to look for you.

"Why the fuck are you still smiling, huh? Puta." - The Hispanic man tugged your scalp harshly, spitting in your face. You could barely feel the warmth of the spit since you had dry blood everywhere.

"Maybe you took a mentally ill one, Abs. Maybe she just doesn't know." - Owen mumbled from smoking a cigarette. The short-haired woman asking you about your well-being left what seemed hours ago after she almost threw up. Whoever she was, she didn't seem to take the sight too well, which made her different than Abby and Owen. These two were fucking psychopaths. You were smiling for the last half of the hour, yeah. Because you knew that once Joel will get to know about this, Abby is done. You didn't know what he'll do to her, yet you know she won't be smiling after he'll be done with her. Also, there wasn't enough oxygen in your brain anymore, so you maybe were starting to get delusional.

"It's taking too long, we've been here for hours. We need to leave this fucking place before the people in town notice they're missing." - A woman of color said, looking Abby in the face. The woman seemed to be shaken with the scenery as well. - "Finish this fucking mess, I can't look at it anymore." - She spat in the tall lady's face, leaving the room.

In the begging, Tommy was begging them to stop. He was pleading for the love of God for them to let you be. They should do all of this to him, not to you. But he was silent for hours now.

Abby was looking at you for a small moment, having an unreadable expression on her face. She was thinking about what Nora had just told her. The woman was right, probably. This was taking way too long. Whether you were a damn psycho or you didn't know any Joel Miller, she didn't care - she took a knife from the counter, pushing it right above your knee. The pressure was quite painful.

This action made you open up your mouth while a horrible scream came out, as you held the chair with your palms. The woman kneeled beside you, steadying herself to turn the knife inside the meat of your thigh. The blood was dripping around as she motioned the Hispanic man to drag Tommy away to show him some manners. Manny knew where Abby had her golf club packed and she knew that Owen will gladly show Tommy some of his favorite tees.

Your screams slowly stopped, since your vocal cords were too tired to make such a sound. - "I told you I don't want to kill you. You're innocent. I'm after someone else. Don't you understand?" - Abby mumbled and started to turn the knife around, making you almost faint at one moment. - "If you won't stop dodging the answer, I will pop your knee off."

"Why don't you tell me, where is Joel Miller? I'll let you go, I swear. Me or my friends won't come after you or your friends. That's a promise." - She stopped, holding the chair in place with her hand. Abby knew what she was doing. If she'd turn the knife around too fast or if she wouldn't stop for a small moment, she'd make you numb to the pain. And the last thing she needed was to let you lose your consciousness. Her eyes widened when a whisper came out of your lips.

"What? What did you just say?" - She mumbled frantically, looking at your destroyed face. It was horrifying to see you like that.

"I was saying..." - You coughed, looking away from her to spit another blood out of your mouth. - "That he'll fuck you up once he gets to know who you are and what you've done. You're a walking dead man." - And you carried on laughing. Who the fuck were you? How could you even develop enough capacity to say such things? With that, Abby shook her head, tears appearing in her eyes, and pushed the knife deeper, just behind your knee, twisting it with hatred in her face. You were screaming like a fucking animal. Just when she was about to slice your throat like a pig's, Melanie's scream stopped her.

"Someone's inside the house! Move it, run!" - Owen yelled over the building. Without second thoughts, she threw the knife away, picked her stuff, and ran into the woods through the big windows, leaving you exposed to the ice-cold air.

A few hours ago, Jackson:

Maria was getting worried. You left early in the morning. It was already six o'clock in the evening and you were nowhere to be found. Ellie, Dina, and Jesse had already got back from the patrols just as the other did. Where did you two got stuck? When others found out you're missing, they immediately called everyone to a meeting. Yet no-one had the slightest idea where you were at the time.

"I told you I saw lights in the fucking house. What if they're there?" - Ellie asked with hatred, pointing her finger on the map. Dina was kissing her shoulder, trying to calm her down, but it wasn't helping much. Tommy was her fucking uncle and you were her best friend.

"Why would they go in there? It's completely out of the way for them." - Jesse asked back. Yeah, there was something fishy going on. If one of you'd die during the hunt, one of you'd be already back. If you'd got lost, he knew that Tommy would find the way back.

Ten patrols searched through the surroundings of Jackson, coming back empty-handed. The house was the only reasonable location.

"Maybe one of them got hurt? They would never leave the other somewhere out there if one of them bleeding or something like that." - Dina asked silently, trying to calm them down. Ellie took in a deep breath, closing her eyes. After a while, she moved from the desk, looking at her friends. - "I'll tell Joel that we'll be going on a patrol to search through the house. Maybe the old man will want to join us? It's his brother and his girl, in the end, we're talking about."

"That's a good plan, yeah." - Jesse agreed, watching as she left the room. Ellie was not having a good feeling about you and Tommy just disappearing one morning. She was with both of you on a patrol multiple times and neither of you hasn't done anything like that before. It was like a magic trick - you disappeared in the thin air. She ran up to Joel's house to be there as soon as possible - the longer they would hesitate, the longer was the probability you'd be found dead. The old man opened up the door within a minute after she knocked the first time.

"Hey, hey." - He mumbled, putting his palm on Ellie's shoulder. She looked weirdly off to him. He had a free day thanks to you, but it was making him worried you weren't back just yet. It was maybe the morning blizzard or the fact that most likely, you needed to maneuver a lot around the horde to lower their numbers. But this was making him think that just maybe, you weren't hiding from the weather after all. - "You good? Did somethin' happened, kiddo?"

Joel was getting into his more worried and protective mood within seconds. Ellie nodded and motioned for him to come inside so he could at least sit when she'll tell him. - "Is it somethin' about you and Dina? Did Tommy do some bullshit? You know you can tell me." - The man looked into her face, offering her at least a glass of water.

"More or less. It's about both Y/N and Tommy." - She mumbled, looking the tip of her boots. Jesus, Ellie was tired as a dog. The hangover was terrible, she could barely hold her eyes open, her body was hurting and she only had a few hours of sleep. Joel was confused, yet his expression was telling Ellie that he's not making too much out of it. - "She told me that they're goin' on a patrol because of some infected. I think they just got a bit stuck there."

His small girl nodded at that, thinking about the best way to tell him. After she took another sip of the water, making herself just tell all of it to Joel. - "We searched the place, we haven't found neither them nor the horde. They are MIA a the moment." - At that, Joel stopped making a joke out of the situation. It wasn't the weather, but the infected. Were you two even alive? Were you all alright?

"The last place were looking into is the house an hour away from Jackson. You know which one I mean. Are you coming with us?" - And this question Joel needed to hear. Of course, he was about to search for both of you. It wasn't likely that you'd split, even if something happened. Tommy surely kept you by his side the whole time, making sure you're all right. Finding Tommy meant that they'd find you both.  

Everyone gathered at the stables in the next ten minutes - there was Ellie and Dina, Jesse, Joel, Maria, and Diego, everyone ready for any inconvenience to come. During their journey to the house in the mountains, everyone was awfully quiet. Everyone had their ears ready to hear for any kind of strange noise, but none had come. The first sign of someone coming through were dad bodies put on fire laying at the gate. These were infected - which meant that normal people are inside the guarded building. Yet there was nowhere to be seen.

"This isn't our technology." - Jesse said after looking at the bodies. - "I would recognize her handwork everywhere. She hadn't made this and Tommy doesn't know how this works. Someone we don't know is in there and we don't know if they're friendly or not yet." - The young boy stood up and looked at everyone.

"Then we should leave horses here and try to get into the building unnoticed. If they're friendly, they won't hurt us when they find us sneaking around, right?" - Ellie asked everyone and they needed to say that this is a reasonable plan. The people divided into two groups - one consisting or Maria, Joel, and Ellie, the other one having Dina, Jesse, and Diego in it. They were ready to roll.

It was taking quite a long time before the two groups met at the back of the house where a window was opened - which, in translation, was the only way leading inside the house. To get there without making too much noise was kind of fun, but in the end, everyone got there safe and sound. It was just when Ellie and Dina were slowly opening the window when the first screams filled the air. It sounded awfully like a young woman's accompanied by dull loud noises coming from downstairs.

"Okay, let's calm down first. We need a plan," - Ellie whispered before she leaned her shoulder to Joel's chest to stop him from just running there, killing everyone in an instance and probably getting himself killed as well. - "You are going to calm down first. We need to be careful here."

"And listen to her gettin' killed any moment? No." - Joel answered back immediately, just to have Maria's hand on his shoulder too.

"Ellie is right. This house is huge, there's probably ten to twenty of the people and we have two people to loose here. I'll stay with Joel, makin' sure he'll behave. Ellie's coming with us. Jesse, you're taking the right side of the house, were heading right? If you find something you won't do on your own, the first thing you do is to yell at us. It will probably make them realize were here, but that can scare these fucks off." - Maria put an end to the argument, making everyone calm down immediately.

Jesse looked at his group nervously. Dina was excellent in silent killing, while he and Diego were more of the fistfight and gun guys. But they were about to make it. Just as Maria told them, their ways parted.

They tried to be as careful and as quiet as possible. Every moment built up the tension inside of Jesse, he had the feeling that each of their steps is as loud as a thunder. Which wasn't a comfortable feeling at all? The left side of the house was emptied - the rooms were empty, there was no kind of civilization in sight. It was when they arrived at the stairs when Dina noticed heavy footsteps walking up. Her nails dag up to Jesse's arm as she motioned on her arm. Jesse closed his eyes, listening to the surroundings, nodding at Dina in the end as everyone his behind the walls to take cover.

Dina did her best to quietly put the suspenser on her gun, making sure that her knife is ready for any case. When she was sure, she leaned her back to the wall, taking in a deep breath as she stood up. When the guy walked in, he didn't look around and behind the walls - he was just patrolling. It was this weird, disgusting dude with a baseball cap, whistling a song as he walked forward. Dina jumped on his back, covering his mouth and shooting a bullet right into the man's brain. His body relaxed in a second as the life left it, his back falling on Dina's chest. She huffed a bit, slowly laying the man down.

"Ever told you you're fucking good at this?" - Jesse looked at his ex-girlfriend, now covered in blood, who just grinned back as they quietly made their way through the halls and corridors. The dark-haired girl smirked at what Jesse had to say, shaking her head. - "Focus, 'kay?" - She whispered, but suddenly, as they were about to enter some white door, they heard some person yelling.

"Someone's inside the house! Move it, run!" - Each of them stopped in the middle of what they were doing, hoping that any of the running people won't meet them. But it had to happen, hadn't it? It was a short-haired, small, fragile woman who had her eyes red with tears. As soon as she realized she doesn't know any of the young people and Dina pointed her gun at her, she rose her palm in the air. For a moment, they were staring at each other before the woman turned around and ran in the opposite direction.

"Why didn't you shoot her down? She can alert the others."- Diego whispered into Dina's ear angrily, but when he was about to chase after the woman, Jesse's hand stopped the boy. - "She was scared. Did you see the look on her face? Maybe something real bad happened here." - Dina told to Diego, turning around to open up the white door.

All of them stopped and looked into the room, thinking that they may be dreaming. Dina knew she knows the person dressed only in their top, with a knife sticking out of their thigh. It was a girl... Dina suspected, but it was hard to tell honestly. There was blood everywhere, small nails and a hammer laying on the ground, the window was open and the snow was now falling in, making the person freeze.

"Joining the party? About fucking time. Sadly, you missed the main program." - The person told them, coughing some blood, spitting it on the ground. Jesse's face stiffed in horror as he realized who's he looking at. It was you. Their best friend. The girl who wore the worst cowboy shoes ever to every dance there was in Jackson. The boy ran to you, quickly, looking at what they had done to you. There were tears in his ears when he looked at the hematomas on your stomach, seeing the swelling part of your face. - " I didn't tell them, I didn't say a word, Jesse, I..." - That was all you were repeating the whole time Dina and Jesse were strangling your thigh and preparing pieces of cloth to cover the wound. The girl sighed and nodded at Jesse, who gently turned your face at him. - "I know you didn't say them a word, you've done so well, come on, stay with me, look at me, that's it, that's it." - The boy whispered as Dina gently pulled the knife out of your thigh, making sure she won't do you more harm. But the screaming filling the room was terrifying. Jesse, even if he didn't want to hurt you more, pressed his finger into your cheek to keep you from looking on your leg as Dina put gazes around it with swift movements.

Diego was checking for clues of who they've might be, but these people didn't leave anything behind. That was nothing. No badges, maps, instructions... What were they after? You did know by the looks of it, but it wasn't probable that you'll talk in the following few days, maybe even week. And where was Tommy? There was an opened door leading to the garage, which they also opened as they ran away, and Tommy's horses was somewhere there as well. And they were about to get to know as Ellie ran into the cellar after them, opening the white door with a loud bang. - "We had... Found... Tommy." - She said slowly, looking at her friends taking care of the hurt person.

It took her a whole to recognize your face, but when she did, she helped Dina with making you stand up and put your clothes back on you. The rage was stronger and stronger within her. If you and Tommy wouldn't be in such a bad state, she would go after the duckers immediately until she'd chase them down. Joel couldn't talk when they found his brother.

He was laying in front of a fireplace with his hands duck taped behind his back, beaten up like a dog.  He was still alive, for now, but... You were looking good in comparison to Tommy. Someone brutally beat up Tommy with a metal golf club, almost beating his skull open. The people who did this to you had been stopped in the last moment - there was a small stand of blood on your neck, telling them that the person wanted to slice your throat. And Tommy, he was still breathing, but his skull was almost cracked open. The girl was shaking and crying when Dina started to nurse you as you kept on repeating them that you didn't tell them, whatever you were talking about.

Jesse took Ellie's face to his palms, looking her inside the eyes. - "Tommy, is he alive?" - Jesse asked, but the reality around Ellie was blurry. Her heart was aching with every small move it made, she couldn't take in one deep breath. - "Hey. Is Tommy alive?" - Jessie tried to ask again, but Dina knew she wouldn't answer. The process that Ellie was going through was undescribable - there was this mix of anger, fear, and hatred inside of her, so it would be better to let Ellie be for the moment. - "Jesse, help me get Y/N on Sadie. We need to ride back to Jackson, she won't make it otherwise." - Dina begged Jesse. She knew she can ride you back on her own - they'll have a harder time figuring out how to help Tommy... If he wasn't beyond saving at the moment.

Jesse left Ellie with Diego, helping you into the saddle. The screams were horrifying and he was sure that Maria is holding Joel back from running directly to the garage. But neither of them tried to stop you from screaming, it would be meaningless. As soon as you both sat on Sadie, Dina rode to the snow and Jackson, knowing shes running out of time. - "I didn't tell her, no, no, she doesn't know, I swear, I didn't." - You were still whispering, but soon, Dina felt the weight of your back on her chest. She didn't know if you'd have just passed out or dead, but she couldn't stop the tears from falling off of her eyes either way.

The ride was almost endless, but just when the light was disappearing, the gates finally showed up just a while from where you were. Saide was getting more nervous and tired - Dina was making her go the whole the time, not stopping for a single second and the journey was quite long. There was the danger of both of you being thrown down off of the horseback any minute. It was refreshing to see the gates opening as you rode in. People were calling out to Dina, they were trying to ask about what happened, but the girl was just shaking her head, riding directly to the hospital.

"Bobby, call Bobby!" - Dina yelled on the way. By the time you arrived there, almost everyone was ready to help, not knowing what happened. But Bobby's eyes widened as soon as she saw you. - "Bring her in, the second floor. I'll need to check her to see what's going on." - "Are those nails?" - Nancy asked when she rose one of your palms to the level of her eyes. When she saw the state of your fingers, she quickly turned around and puked to the nearby snow. Dina got off Sadie, walking straight to Bobby.

"Just don't let her die, 'kay?" - The girl whispered with her voice broken, getting a hug from the old lady. After that, Bobby disappeared to the house and started to take off your clothes, looking at everything these fucks had done to you.

#abby anderson #abby the last of us #abby tlou #wlf the last of us #owen the last of us #melanie the last of us #manny the last of us #and the rest of the fucks #ellie williams #ellie the last of us #tommy miller #tommy miller the last of us #tommy the last of us #maria miller #maria miller the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller imagine #joel miller the last of us #i mean... #Joel is barely in this chapter #but it doesn't matter

[exhaustedfander]

Hideaway: Chapter Three

word count: 2,495

A03 link

1 / 2 / 3 / ?

The night is still, and cool, and unbearable. Logan doesn’t know why – doesn’t know if Roman knows why – but it feels like this night has lasted a millennium, yet he cannot find slumber. Not when his mind races with so much excitement, and anxiety, and want.

Logan wants so much. He’s never felt so greedy in all his life.

He should be satisfied with what Roman’s provided him. A large, comfortable room in a castle secluded and all their own. He’s offered Logan leisure and relaxation, something he’s been sorely lacking for how long, he cannot possibly say. All he is meant to do now is shut his eyes and fall asleep. But he can’t manage it.

Because every time his eyelids fall shut, he sees Roman, illuminating, enchanting, devastatingly sad, Roman. There is no solace in the darkness, there is no safety from these brimming, strong, unexplainable feelings, not even in his mind.

Logan’s never felt such an intense pull toward anything or anyone, but now it feels like he needs to be near to Roman as much as oxygen is necessary for life. It’s completely and utterly irrational; Roman is simply in another room. They inhabit the same building, for god’s sake, they’ll see each other in the morning, or whatever equivalent The Imagination will have for a morning. There’s no reason to be acting so childishly, this isn’t like Logan at all.

And yet, here he finds himself, tossing and turning, stepped in desire.

A desire for what, he can’t entirely say with confidence. A desire to be known, so deeply and intensely? A dire to be listened to, to be understood for everything that he is? A desire to be held tightly, and never let go? All of the above seems to sum it up best and Logan hates it.

He can’t recall when these wants began to creep into his mind, but now that he’s aware of their intrusive presence, he cannot find peace. Logan came here with the hopes that he and Roman would find rest and relaxation, allowing them to return to their duty’s calmer and more stable than they’d left them. Just a little time to decompress, he didn’t think it was asking for too much, at least he hoped not. But now Logan doesn’t know if this is anything close to relaxation, this weight that sits heavy on his chest.

He’s turned loose from his troubled thoughts when the door creaks open slowly and Roman steps into the room, a hesitant look on his face.

“Roman?”

“I… I’m sorry, have I woken you?”

Logan shakes his head, reaching over to the nightstand and slipping his glasses on.

“Not at all. I haven’t been able to sleep,” Logan assures, assessing the expression that Roman wears. “Is something the matter?”

“No, nothing,” Roman says, out of impulse more than anything, Logan suspects, before he takes a step further into the room and rubs the back of his neck, “Well… that isn’t entirely true. I suppose I haven’t been able to sleep either.”

Logan hates the way he can hear Roman desperately fighting to keep it together. He’s thrashing, treading water, doing everything possible to keep from going under, but it may not prove to be enough. Logan’s never been in-tune with his emotions, or the feelings of others, for that matter, but that doesn’t stop him from seeing how tortured Roman has been for so long. Years, maybe.

He’s reaching out. That is something of a rarity, of great importance, and Logan wishes he had a better idea of what to do next. If he isn’t careful, if he doesn’t choose the right wording, he could push him even further; he could be alone in this damned room again.

“Well, if we both can’t sleep,” Logan begins, his wording deliberate and cautious, “I don’t see why we can’t keep each other company.” The look of relief that spreads across his face is positively illuminating.

“Y-yeah? I’m… I’m not bothering you? Because, if so, I could always go back –.”

“You aren’t bothering me, Roman,” Logan interrupts, patting the spot on the bed beside him, “Truth be told, I wouldn’t mind the company.”

With that, Roman smiles faintly and sits beside Logan, though the space between them is a far greater expanse than Logan would care for.

The silence that settles over them is thick and uncomfortable. Logan notices as Roman traces over the crown patterns on his red silk pajama pants – the pair he’d provided Logan has constellations on them, with far more detail put into them than necessary, but the gesture was nice.

“It’s funny,” Roman says suddenly after a while, breaching the silence, “How lonely one can feel, even when there’s someone in the next room over.” His eyes remain trained on his lap, and Logan doesn’t know how he’d get the princely side to make eye contact, even though he desperately wants to.

“Is that how you’ve been feeling? Lonely?” Roman bites his lip.

“Maybe,” he says, which, of course, means yes, “Things have been so… off lately. Haven’t they?” Logan doesn’t get a chance to respond before Roman’s speaking again. “Remember, when everything just felt right? We were all just friends, and helping Thomas, and important –.”

“You are important, Roman,” Logan cuts in, and that is what gets Roman’s attention. Roman meets his eyes, with a look that’s so shaken, so unbelieving and frightened it’s like he’s looking into the eyes of some terrified animal. “You’re Thomas’s creativity. His hopes, his aspirations, and dreams. I cannot possibly fathom what an existence without you would be like. You’re so important and you always have been.” The very notion that Roman could be otherwise is utterly mindboggling.

Logan doesn’t know how he expects Roman to react, but it certainly isn’t with a scoff. Regardless, that’s just what he does.

“Yeah, right.”

“You are,” Logan repeats, “Roman, I understand that you’re going through… a lot right now.”

“And you aren’t?” Logan blinks.

“I – I beg your pardon?”

“Logan… do you ever get so lonely… so terribly forsaken, that it feels like you can’t breathe? Do you ever feel so unwanted, that you want to shut yourself in your room and never, ever come out? Do you ever feel so hopeless?” Roman’s voice quivers, and he squeezes his eyes shut. “I suppose not. It was a stupid thing to ask, really.”

“I do.” Roman’s eyes fly open again, meeting Logan’s tentative gaze.

“H-huh?”

“I do, feel the way you’ve just described, sometimes,” Logan admits, his voice so quiet, so reserved that it’s barely over a whisper.

“Do you… do you feel that way often?” Logan lets out a long sigh.

“As of late, yes.” Logan can hardly comprehend the magnitude of what he’s admitting to. It seems that Roman can, though.

“Have you ever told anyone that?”

“I suppose not. You’re the first to know.”

“Lo… can I tell you a secret.” Logan can feel Roman edging just a little closer to him on the bed.

“Of course. You know you can tell me anything.”

Logan says it, but he doesn’t know, not really. He isn’t sure if he’s ever made Roman aware that he can trust him in such a way, and it’s a horrible realization to come to. Their friendship hasn’t always been the strongest, and arguments are certainly not an uncommon occurrence, but Logan trusts Roman, maybe more than he ought to. And he prays that Roman trusts him back just the same.

“That’s why I came in your room,” Roman says quietly, his voice steeped in shame, “I was lying there in bed, tossing and turning, feeling so stupidly lonely that I just… I had to come and see you. I didn’t even think that you might be fast asleep, or wouldn’t want the intrusion, or –.”

“But I wasn’t asleep, and you aren’t intruding on anything,” Logan reminds gently. Roman takes a shaky breath.

“R-right. But you could’ve been.”

“But I wasn’t.”

“I don’t know why, but I needed to. I… I missed you. God, I must sound so ridiculous.”

“You don’t.”

“I… I don’t?” Roman’s voice brims with hesitance, his breath hitching as Logan settles a careful hand on his back.

“No. In fact, you’re making a great deal of sense. I know… I know I haven’t always been the best, dealing with issues of emotion.”

“Yeah, you’ve practically been calling yourself a robot for years.” Logan sighs.

“Be that as it may, it has come to my attention that I… miscalculated, the scope of my feelings. They are still very much the bane of my existence. But…”

“But?”

“But they do exist,” Logan exhales, “And I need to face the fact that loneliness is one of them. So, yes, I can relate to what you’ve said. Perhaps a great deal more than I would like.”

Logan thinks that perhaps if the situation weren’t so strife, Roman would be teasing him now, for finally admitting that he isn’t an automaton. He might laugh, expressing his shock that Logan would dare say such a thing, and the laughter wouldn’t be cruel, not really, but it would certainly feel that way.

Roman sits there silently for a long while, staring at Logan with a look on his face the logical side can’t seem to read. And then, he speaks.

“Pocket protector, Logan, can – can I give you a hug?”

The question is jarring, and nothing that Logan is expecting, and truth be told, it’s incredibly overwhelming. But putting all that aside, Logan nods. It’s all he can manage, all possible verbal responses having left his mind.

Cautiously, Roman extends his arms and wraps them around Logan, lose at first, in case he wants to pull away. Logan doesn’t pull away, though. He lets out a gasp as he feels Roman’s arms around him, stilling for a moment before returning the embrace tightly.

“Is this okay?” Roman’s being so tentative, so gentle, it’s suddenly almost enough to bring Logan to tears.

“Yes,” he breaths out, “This is fine.”

It isn’t “fine.” It’s perfect, it’s something he’s been aching for, for eons. He can’t recall the last time he was hugged, the last time he allowed himself to be hugged, but now that he’s here in Roman’s embrace he never wants to leave its safety.

“Hey, it’s alright. You’re alright.” For a moment, Logan doesn’t understand why Roman is saying such things before he realizes that he’s begun to tremble.

“I – I…” Logan doesn’t quite know what he’s intending to convey, the words crumbling like sand in his mouth. Roman runs a hand along the back of his head, combing gently through his hair.

“It’s okay, Lo. Everything’s okay. Do you want me to keep holding you?” Logan, despite his best effort, can’t find it in himself to pull away.

“Yes,” he whispers, knowing he must sound pathetic.

He doesn’t know what happened; just a moment ago, he was comforting Roman, and now he’s being cradled like a frightened child, shushed and cooed at. How can something as simple as human touch render him so weak? Logan remembers, not long ago, when he would've shunned such outlandish displays of affection. But now? Now, he’s helpless.

“You’re so good, Lo. So smart, and sharp-witted, and important. I… I don’t believe I’ve told you that enough, how important you are to all of us. How important you are to me.” Logan feels a shudder run down his spine. It would be a lie to say Logan hadn’t imagined Roman saying such things, but to actually hear him say it is a different thing altogether. “Where would we be without our dear logic, hm?”

“Roman…” Logan trails off, still clinging tightly to the princely side, “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Roman says.

Logan is hardly aware of it when Roman pulls away for a moment, tucking them into the covers before folding him back into the embrace. Moments ago, Logan felt nothing but restless, but now exhaustion washes over him in waves.

Logan’s almost positive Roman doesn’t believe what he’s told him, that he’s of so much value and that Thomas would be lost without him. And yet, he continues to murmur words of encouragement to Logan. Logan doesn’t understand it; sure, he’s felt a little less than wanted lately, but he’s fine. He’s totally and completely… oh, who is he kidding?

“Logan, darling, are you alright?” Logan’s exhaustion weighs so heavy that he barely notices the term of endearment that he’s used. He’s far more aware of the security he feels in his arms, of the warmth of Roman’s neck where his face is buried, and the feeling of sleep beginning to call to him.

“I’m fine,” Logan says, “Tired, but fine. What about you? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

They’re both lying, but Logan doesn’t have the energy to face such troubling thoughts. Not tonight, anyhow.

“Roman…” Logan mutters voice muddled with sleep. “Go to sleep, Logan. We’ll talk in the morning.”

Despite his better judgment, Logan simply nods against him and shuts his eyes. He doesn’t know how long this night will last, but at the moment, it doesn’t concern him. Not when he’s in the arms of someone he loves so dearly. He’s craved this, for far longer than he’d like to admit. He’s ached for Roman’s embrace, and now he has it.

Roman says they’ll talk in the morning, but will they talk about this? About the insecurities they both face? About the feelings bubbling just below the surface. He highly doubts it.

Still, Logan sinks into Roman’s arms, sighing as he feels the feather-light pressure of a kiss being pressed into his hair.

“Goodnight,” Roman whispers, but Logan’s already asleep, unable to reply.

At least they won’t be lonely anymore. Not for tonight.

=+=

“Where the fuck are they?!” Patton rounds the corner, having heard Virgil shout.

“Virgil, kiddo, what’s the matter? What’re you looking for?”

“Logan and Roman! I haven’t seen them anywhere! Patton, I – I can’t find them.” A look of concern falls over the fatherly figments face as he scans over a very nervous looking Virgil.

“I’m sure I just saw Logan a few moments ago.” Virgil doesn’t look like he believes him.

“Are you positive?”

“Well…”

“You aren’t, right?” Patton sighs.

“No, I guess not.”

“I’m seriously worried here, Pat. They’ve both seemed so down and now… now I can’t find them anywhere? What if something happened to them? What if they’re lost, o-or left, or –.” “Hey,” Patton cuts in, placing a gentle hand on the anxious side’s shoulder, “It’s going to be okay. We’ll find them, alright?” Virgil worries his bottom lip.

“Yeah, yeah o-okay.”

“They can’t have gotten too far off,” Patton assures, slipping a hand into Virgil’s and giving a reassuring squeeze, “I’m sure we’ll find them in no time.”

It’s a shame, how wrong Patton’s optimistic outlook proves to be.

=+=

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[pynkhues]

Love your analysis on Beth’s playing a role to control Dean—but now I’m curious about your thoughts on the ottoman haha

Oh my gosh, thank you for taking the bait and asking, haha. I’ve been thinking about the ottoman all week, because it felt like such a strange and very specific thing for the writers to bring up again in the context of Dean, Judith and Beth in 3.11 after Beth had made the joke about it to Rio in the bar back in 3.08. And hey! I get a lot of asks about writing and about critical creative theory, and how to develop both those skills, and I always give the advice to start by asking why.

So let’s ask why together, because let me tell you: if something in a story feels strange, and it’s specific, and especially if it’s repeated, it usually means the writers want you to notice. And if they want you to notice, that in turn means it’s either a) an important plot point (which, err, I don’t think the ottoman is, haha, unless somebody stashed some money in the thing), or b) it’s important symbolically (and sometimes both! The flashforwards on Breaking Bad in particular did that really well).

So yeah, I’ve been thinking a lot about the ottoman, and these two, seemingly flippant references to it, and ultimately it’s reminded me of a post I never actually wrote (classic Sophie, haha), about Beth and Judith in 2.09 and 3.02, and that kind of made a feedback loop in my head and - -

Look.

Basically I think it’s a symbolic rejection of Beth’s old life / Judith’s life; an important character beat for Beth, and an indicator that she’s more than what she was with Rio, and that she won’t ever be more than that with Dean, but that’s a lot. So.

Let’s break that down a bit.   

Mommy Dearest

While motherhood is a central theme of this show, I am perpetually fascinated by the fact that the only mother to the main characters we really know is Dean’s mother, Judith, something that does actually feel like a deliberate choice.

After all, I could write a whole fresh essay about how it seems that Beth, Annie and Ruby each function as mothers themselves in ways that reflect a multigenerational trauma, and, ergo, a damaged mother in their own childhoods – we learnt in 2.08 after all that Beth and Annie’s mother was bedridden with depression, if nothing else, and Ruby’s mother was widowed when Ruby was just a young teenager (to say nothing of the trauma Ruby must’ve faced herself losing her father at that age) – but actually…that’s as much as we do know about them.

Dean though.

Well. 

We actually know probably more about his family and his history than we do about any other character on the show. We know his parents were John and Judith. We know that his father created Boland Motors and that Dean inherited the business from him. We know that John cheated on Judith throughout his career, and that Judith briefly tried to go back to work herself as a shop girl before feeling forced back home.

We know that Judith sacrificed everything – her career, her autonomy, her body, her happiness – to give Dean the illusion of a perfect family. While Dean might not know all the details himself, he’s certainly picked some of the expectations of that up through his parents, because ultimately, he expects Beth to do the same. And she did! And still does, in many, many ways.

There are a lot of examples of this, but the biggest one, of course, is the arc across 2.07 through to 2.10, which culminates with Dean holding their children ransom at Judith’s house, blackballing Beth into caving, and then flat out not caring about her inner life at all in 2.10.

That entire arc hinges on a lot of things, but one of the most integral conversations within that is the one Beth and Judith have at Emma’s birthday party in 2.09.

A conversation that’s pretty sublimely paralleled in 3.02.

2.09 vs 3.02

Beth and Judith’s conversations at Emma’s birthday party in 2.09 and then in the Boland kitchen in 3.02 are in fact two scenes that are also in conversation with each other. They’re different, but they’re the same. They’re circling the same information, while offering new takes, bantering old jokes that pivot into new jabs. They’re great, and I know they’re nobody who watches this show’s favourite scenes, but I actually love both of them a lot, and I think they’re really important – not just for Beth as a character, but for the show’s themes overall.

The scene in 2.09 falls on the back of Dean having taken the kids, and Beth’s grief arc around that. She only gets the invite to Emma’s birthday party because Dean’s put her in a position where she has to ask for it, and within the first 20 seconds of Beth and Judith exchange while they’re cutting up Emma’s birthday cake, we get this absolute gem:

Beth: [Dean]’s a good dad.

Judith: So was John. Not much of a husband though.

Judith goes on to confirm  that John cheated (with enough women she “stopped counting”), just like she now knows Dean did, but that’s not the point, and it’s not the thrust of the conversation.

The throughline is that men might cheat, and you can leave them, but as a mother, your responsibility is to them. You have to sacrifice your own needs to give them the best life you can.

In both Ruby and Annie’s cases, these are moral sacrifices to create financial gains for those children. Ruby’s in a loving marriage and needs to pay for her daughter’s medication, so that’s all literal with her. For Annie, it’s not quite as literal, but explores a parallel morality by way of her empathy – she feels no moral guilt about robberies, but she feels moral guilt by way of Marion and Nancy, in order to provide for her son.

Beth’s not like them.

She enjoys crime. She empathises with others, but isn’t a bleeding heart like Annie.

All of Beth’s sacrifices are felt personally.

She dims her own light, her own passions, her personality, her needs, her ambitions, to fuel the light of Dean’s, or for their children.  

It’s a conversation she has again with Judith in 3.02.

Judith’s been helping out more since Beth went to work. It leads to a few confrontations across the episode, but the one between the two of them in the kitchen after dinner is pivotal. I could actually transcribe the whole conversation here, because it’s honestly awesome, revealing dialogue, but instead I’m going to break it down into three little blocks.

a) The first in that it tells us how much Dean diminishes and doesn’t think about his mother.

Beth apologises for the fight which Dean ignores, and Judith asks a simple question:

“Did Dean ever tell you that I worked?”

No, Beth replies, simply, effortlessly.

A telling thing for a couple who have been together for over 20 years.

b) It builds to Judith telling Beth about having Dean, and then –

Judith: Everyone’s fawning over this new baby boy, while I’m just…nothing. Empty. Flesh and hormones over ice.

Beth pours them both a drink.

Confides that she had post-partum depression too.

c) But that’s not what Judith is saying. Judith’s not empathising with Beth, she’s telling her to go home.

Beth: Your happiness was important too.

(beat)

Judith: How much does the card shop pay?

Beth: You shouldn’t have quit.

Judith: And you should be home for dinner if you don’t want the kids saying grace…what a lie, huh? That we can have it all.

This scene is sharp, and it’s designed as a narrative weapon against Beth, who is desperately trying to keep her family above water, and actually gives Beth the triple duty in terms of protective responsibilities.

She’s trying to provide for her children, of course, and trying to justify her own purpose outside of motherhood to her mother-in-law, while also concealing from Judith how much Dean has failed their family in every way.

Judith gave up everything for Dean, so what can Beth do except placate her?

The thing is, these two conversations have very, very different results. 

In 2.09, Judith’s conversation with Beth was a key part of Beth ultimately quitting both crime and Rio, and trying to revert back to the woman she was – the woman Judith would always be. 

3.02 had a very different outcome.

Beth didn’t quit.

She doubled down.

Not only that, it directly pivoted into a scene where Beth, Ruby and Annie were criming, fucked a part of it up, and Beth’s instant response is “What would Rio do?” trying him into that overall arc.

The Ottoman

Which brings us, finally, to the ottoman!

It’s an offhand joke in 3.08, right? Beth’s dressed up, and she and Rio are in one of their games of eternal bargaining after she robbed him and he replied by stealing literally everything she owned. She’s trying to earn it back, he says he has something for her, she jokes, “My ottoman?”

It’s not serious. She’s not serious, which already loads the term, but Rio’s response is equally light, equally dismantling.

No.

The thing he has for her is Boomer.

And sure, there’s a lot to unpack in that, but what’s important here is that Rio treated the ottoman as something as frivolous as Beth treated it. They were on the same page – in maybe one of the few moments they were all season.

He knew as well as she did that the ottoman wasn’t something she needed.

The scene in 3.11 is really different.

Beth’s literally dressed down, on the toilet, in the robe she wore when she broke up with Rio in 2.09. Dean barges in, tells her no one will give him money to buy the hot tub place, then instantly breaks into a diatribe about how his mother wants to give them his ottoman.

Beth: We don’t have a couch!

Dean: I told her that.

Beth: Good.

Dean: The ottoman will be here tomorrow.

[Beth sighs]

Dean: I know, I’m sorry.

[beat]

Dean: I just don’t want [Rio] involved again.

The scene serves the purpose of, once again, emasculating Dean – showing that he can’t get out from under his mother’s thumb in the same narrative beat that it tells us as an audience that Dean can’t wriggle out from beneath Rio’s either – at least not as long as he’s with Beth.

In turn, the ottoman as an object holds a lot of narrative weight.

It’s something Beth and Rio can joke about, and something that labours on Beth and Dean’s marriage.

On a deeper level, the ottoman is something that holds a purpose, yes, but needs other items to be complete.

On its own, an ottoman is a joke. With a couch, it’s a living room.

Beth wants the couch – she wants the career – she wants the functionality and purpose of it. She wants to build her home herself, not scrape around for leftovers, nor rely on superficial or frivolous function in the way that she did before she robbed Fine & Frugal.

Beth is a character bursting with purpose, utility, passion. She wants to build this new life, not accessorise it, and Rio knows it, and Dean can never offer it to her, and that matters to her, particularly as she tries to untangle her future from Judith’s.

What I’m getting at is that I think Beth made a very different decision in 3,02 than she did in 2.09. She decided she was going to do this. She was going to be less of an ornament in her own life, and it would take her away from her children but hopefully give her more function to provide for them, and notably for herself too, and I think the narrative symbol of the ottoman is that the domestic goddess / Judith image isn’t her anymore, at least not exclusively. It’s not what she needs, and Rio knows that, and can laugh with her as she makes a joke of it, while Dean knows it, but will never fully support or empower her in disentangling from it. 

#gg 2.09 #gg 3.02 #gg 3.11 #beth x rio #beth x dean #beth boland #rio #dean boland #judith boland #welcome to my ama #audreydear