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piratefalls · 4 months

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i emerge from my pile of blankets in the freezing midwest just long enough to drop this. there's all kinds of fun stuff this week! and, despite being housebound because of subzero temps, i'm so far behind on reading it's not even funny, so it's a little shorter than usual.

masterlist.

None of my love will go to waste by @kiwiana-writes

Alex had pulled away at the sound of the door opening, is the thing. He’d looked up at Henry with wide eyes and spit-slick, swollen lips, and Henry knows intrinsically that he will never be rid of that mental image. He’ll take it into the shower later, into bed tonight, into the rest of his natural life; if he hits his head tomorrow and winds up with some medically implausible form of amnesia, the key to unlocking his identity will be the enduring memory of a beautiful mystery man and his perfect cock-sucking mouth. Because Alex was—Christ, he was— Or, Henry has made peace with the fact that he's in love with his straight roommate. When he walks in on said "straight" roommate with a man, though, he may need to re-evaluate.

wake and shake by weather_stained

Alex wakes up to find Henry indulging in some...classical literature.

until you're sick of me by rizcriz

Henry hasn't seen his roommate in nearly two months. Alex left for Austin shortly before Thanksgiving for two weeks, and Henry left for London the day before he was set to return. They’ve had the odd facetime call, and several hundred text messages to help them tide their time apart—but that didn’t take away from the fact that Henry fucking missed him. And after three delayed flights, he’s finally standing outside their apartment door, and he’s resigned himself to the fact that it’ll still be several hours before he can finally see Alex again. He sighs and sets down his bag to dig out his keys, carefully tucks the key into the lock, and quietly opens the door, turning his back to it to pick up his carryon and grab his roller bag. As quietly as he can, he scoots backwards into the apartment, flinching as the roller bag bounces off the door frame. -- Or, surprise, it's a love confession

check-in closes at too-early p.m. by coffeecatsme

A passenger plane, even if he was in first class, wasn’t going to wait for the former FSOTUS to stop making out with his boyfriend so they can fly. Or, 5 times Alex misses his flight and 1 time he doesn't.

sometimes we break so beautiful by Anonymous

It’s his own damn fault; Alex knows this. It’s his fault for having everyone over for a small birthday party only to spend the evening whispering filthy things to Henry when no one was looking. (And when they were looking, because it’s his goddamn birthday and he can be as inappropriate with his boyfriend as he fucking wants to be.) It’s his fault for pushing Henry, for bratting off with antagonistic words like ‘what are you going to do about it—give me birthday spankings?’ and ‘do you actually think you could put me in my place? Because I’d like to see you try.’ It’s his fault for taunting Henry by suggestively licking the birthday candles, for doing anything he could possibly do to bring attention to his mouth, to his ass, to his fingers. It's his fault that he’s now on their bed, lying on top of Henry, arms stretched out in front of him on either side of Henry's head and wrists tied to the headboard.

There's Something Missing in My Heart by allmylovesatonce

When Alex goes to London to tell him he loves him, Henry sends him away. How do both of them react to being without each other and what happens when their emails are still leaked?

Waffles & Conversation by clottedcreamfudge

“I’m fine, I swear. I just need to give it a proper clean and I’ll be fine.” Ellen isn’t convinced. “Okay, but you’re letting Henry look at it later.” Alex grits his teeth for what must be the thousandth time today and tries to keep his voice level. “No, I’m not. He’s a vet, mom.” “And he’s the closest thing to a doctor we have coming tonight,” she says firmly, letting him take his hand back and raising her eyebrows at him. “It’s that or the ER, honey. Your choice.”

Keep Me Waiting (Give Me More) by bleedingballroomfloor

Alex rubs his face with his hands. “You’re telling me,” he says slowly, “that you got a guy off three times — three fucking times — without even touching his dick? I don’t even think that’s scientifically possible.” Henry’s wine-drunk grin grows a little wider. “Would you like me to prove it to you?”

Sweet, Like Sugar by everwitch

After Henry dates a series of certified assholes, Pez has had it and signs Henry up for a sugar dating app. Henry doesn’t expect much at first, but that’s before he connects with Alex; obscenely wealthy, devilishly handsome and unexpectedly sweet, Alex sweeps Henry right off his feet. But what does Alex expect in return for his extravagant generosity? And why is he so secretive about what his life looks like outside of his intimate conversations with Henry?

even sleeping you astonish me by accol

The utter irony. To be at a climate conference and have a storm descend upon the proceedings was perhaps poetic. To have the storm be intense enough to flood half the hotel and cut off transportation to the mainland was concerning. But to have it all culminate in Henry having to share a room with Alex Claremont-Diaz was as if Mother Nature herself was having a laugh.

9 to 5 by smc_27

Henry is Alex’s favourite colleague. By a fucking country mile, to be honest. He’s intensely competent, has an insane memory for process and policy, and is kind to everyone. Also? He’s fucking pretty, and Alex might be new to bisexuality, but he’s not that new. He knows what he likes, and what he likes are men with pretty eyes and kind smiles and nice cheekbones and English accents. Other men, too, but like. Be serious. Henry’s top of the list. Unfortunately, Henry lives in London. Alex lives in New York City. They work closely together and meet once a week, if not more, and Slack one another almost every day. Alex is on the legal team, and Henry is in business operations, and the second Alex met Henry for the first time, he knew he was truly fucked.

before the first light by stutteringpeach

“I don’t feel anyone. And I’m not going to feel anyone. Because I don’t have a soulmate.” Alex looks confused. “What? Everyone has a—“ “I don’t have a soulmate,” Henry tells him with a sigh, “because I don’t have a soul.”

Song In My Head by MayQueen517

Henry is an explorer and finds himself in a different situation entirely. === He’s restrained. By vines. His wrists and his ankles are encased in the surprisingly soft vines and around him is the scent of blooming honeysuckle that had charmed him so the night before. Henry groans, tilting his head back and he’s aware, briefly, of the vines gently supporting his head, as if they’re concerned over his comfort.

learning to love (without it having to hurt) by viciouslyqueer

Alex nods. “I get that.” He pauses. “You know you can talk to me if you need to, right? If things aren’t great.” Henry’s face softens, his shoulders relaxing a bit. “I know,” he murmurs. “Thanks.” He turns back to the television, and Alex forces himself to do the same. He tears his gaze away from Henry’s profile and focuses on their Star Wars marathon again, refusing to acknowledge how cuddly Henry looks in soft pajamas and fuzzy, mismatched socks. Alex’s heart leaps in his chest anyway. He knew having a crush on his roommate would be confusing, frustrating, and borderline heartbreaking. None of that stopped him.

address me properly by headabovethewater

25. Royalty kink

Pitching a Tent by cmere

Henry looks Alex up and down appraisingly. Alex feels heat rising in his neck and wills it to stop, burning with curiosity about what Henry’s going to ask. He finally says in a low voice, “Are you a serial killer?” Alex smirks. “Even if I was a serial killer, wouldn’t I just say no to get you alone?” “Dammit, you’re right,” Henry says, grinning. “I guess I’ll have to take my chances then.” “Live dangerously, sweetheart.” - or - “our mutual friend dropped out of this trip at the last minute, so hi i guess we’re spending the weekend together” AU!

take my hand if you can take me as i am by anincompletelist

It would hurt less, Alex guesses, if he wasn’t head over heels for the guy he’s supposed to be fucking through an ancient one-sided sex curse with that was partially — a lot, actually — his own fault. But. It’s not like there’s a fucking handbook. Alex has looked.

'till the gravity's too much by IndestructibleHeart

He’s been pacing the length of the house for the better part of an hour now, restless after 48 hours of involuntary confinement. The blizzard outside is unrelenting, to the point that city officials have recommended staying indoors until conditions clear. It’s actually a “suggestion” that Alex might’ve tested if a) Henry weren’t taking the ‘sTaTe oF eMeRgEnCy’ so seriously and b) if not for the fact that their door has literally been frozen shut. “Baby,” Alex says, deliberate and slow, because he knows it’ll earn him the long-suffering, utterly helpless expression it always does. “I’m crawling out of my skin here. Can you just… distract me?”

a quick study by @whimsymanaged

Alex is new to bisexuality, and he turns to a friend for some guidance.

where every wish comes true by HypnosTheory

“Locked out?” “I forgot my keys,” Alex says with a sigh, leaning against his door with a muted shiver. He was planning on a heated Uber ride to June’s apartment, not standing out in the cold ass hallway. Alex hugs his coat closer to his chest. “My friend has my spare.” Henry nods, leaning against his own door frame. Alex isn’t sure what the man does outside of going to grad school at NYU, but it must be bench-pressing horses based on the size of his biceps. Henry reaches up to push his glasses higher on his nose and Alex swears he wasn’t that bisexual when the day started. “Would you like to wait in my apartment for your friend?” -- Alex gets locked out his apartment on Christmas Eve. He's forced to take refuge in his neighbor and occasional fuck buddy Henry's apartment, and together the two get into the Christmas spirit with the help of a festive costume and a silk ribbon.

Anything You Want by somuchworse

Alex rubs his thumb against the stubble on his chin, a soothing balm to the fire melting it’s way through Henry’s bloodstream. “You can tell me, baby. Whatever it is, I won’t care. I won’t judge you. Nothing. I’ll just listen.” And that helps. Henry opens his eyes, and his blood cools just enough to let him speak as he peers up at Alex through his eyelashes. “I’ve never had an orgasm. I’ve tried on my own, and with other people, and I always get close… But then it disappears. So, yeah. Never had one.”

I did one thing right (starry eyes sparking up my darkest night) by theprinceandagcd

"Sighing happily, Alex focuses on the feeling of Henry’s arm around his back. The tips of Henry’s fingers are brushing featherlight up and down his spine, and Alex can feel goosebumps rising on the flesh in their wake. It’s so fucking tranquil that Alex is pretty sure he could die right now and be perfectly content with his life, except – 'We should get married.' 'Pardon?' Oh. Fuck. He said that out loud."

like strawberries on a summer evening by Anonymous

He saw something wiggle in the blanket pile, and then Alex’s face appeared under a mop of messy curls, frown stuck firmly onto his face. “Ugh,” he said, from his spot on the bed. - Alex is having a rough time, and Henry is concerned, like any good boyfriend would be.

even though we know it isn't true by matherine

For so long, academics had been the one thing Alex could count on when everything else in his life was falling apart, the one thing he had always been good at. It didn’t matter that his parents were getting divorced as long as he could figure out how to factor an equation, didn’t matter that June was moving out to go to UT-Austin as long as he could analyze Jane Eyre, didn’t matter that his mother was on the campaign trail more often than he ever saw her as long as he could balance lacrosse with his position as valedictorian. But now, every time a paper comes across his desk marked to within an inch of its life, bleeding a C – or even worse, a D scrawled in bright red ink, his chest grows a little tighter, his breathing a little quicker. Thankfully, he’d not yet managed to fuck up spectacularly enough to get himself a real, honest to God F. He’s not sure he’d survive it. He’s already not sure how well he’s surviving. Alternatively: Alex is failing a class. Henry learns how to help him cope.

Twice the speed (of you and me) by @myheartalivewrites

“Hey. So, you know Pez?” Alex asks bluntly. No easy way into this, he’s decided. Henry looks up from his phone, frowning. “My best mate?” “Yeah, that one.” ——— Alex has an idea.

Don't Quit It by inexplicablymine

“And goddamn last but not least on my Hit It and Don’t Quit It list would be the Saracens rugby player Henry Fox. That man has great depths, and he could so easily plumb my depths, if you know what I’m saying. An all-around fantastic player, but also someone who is ridiculously smart off the field. And we all know by now that everyone on this list features my mile-wide competency kink. Henry, if you are seeing this, we could play around with some balls that aren’t just in play.” Fuck fuck fuckity fuck fuck. Alex has just accidentally outed himself to 6.7 million people. And according to the comments section, they seem to be all too aware. Or... Announcing your crush via viral TikTok... that's one way to get his attention ;)

Hall of Fame by politics_and_prose

“It is an unbelievable honor to be inducted into the New York Mets Hall of Fame. If I could tell the eight year old boy sitting in the stands at Shea that we would end up here, I don’t think I would. This journey has been … it’s been everything to me. Thank you, New York, for loving me as much as I love you. Thank you.”

Sip You Like Cosmic Juice by @sparklepocalypse

“There’s this… charity rugby match in Windsor next month that my mate, Percy’s foundation organizes. I, um… I was wondering if you might want to… be my guest.” Here’s the thing – Alex knows that Henry is athletic and strong. He’d felt and, to some extent, seen evidence of this in the way Henry’s hands had gripped at his waist and back in the Red Room, the ease with which Henry had manhandled him onto the sofa in his bedroom, and in how solid Henry had felt beneath him as they’d tumbled into the supply closet at London Children’s Hospital. And Henry’s a royal – being sporty seems to be a baseline job requirement for modern royals. So yeah, Alex knows Henry’s got some muscle, and as he walks toward the stands that line either side of the rugby pitch in Windsor, Alex thinks he’s prepared. He finds a seat in the stands among spectators wearing the colors of Henry’s team – red, white, and blue – then scans the pitch for a familiar head of blond hair. It’s probably for the best that he’d sat down first, because when his gaze alights on Henry out on the field, Alex promptly swallows his tongue. (Movieverse; what if everything's the same, except the charity sporting event is rugby?)

if you ever want me to tag you, let me know!

tagging: @starkfridays @stilesgivesmefeels

#rwrb rec list #rwrb #rwrb fic #rwrb fanfiction #firstprince #red white and royal blue #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #do yourselves a favor and mind the tags!

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silent-partner-412 · 7 months

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A series of unfortunate events in the life of silent-partner-412:

1. I tell my doctor about a month ago that my ADHD medication wasn’t working, and she takes me off the prescription.

2. I later find out once school starts that hey, actually the meds were super super helpful with schoolwork and productivity, aka doing their fucking job. I tell my doctor this, but it’s only after I run out and have to go cold for a bit.

3. I have a shitty, shitty day yesterday since it was the first day off my meds. All my classes suck, I can’t focus on anything, and I feel like garbage.

4. During a dress rehearsal later that day, because I feel like garbage, I leave midway through without telling anybody. I know this is a bad decision, but I do it anyway.

5. All of my castmates worry about me, and I get reprimanded by my director. She essentially tells me that it would be best if I didn’t do the next show because I need to focus on my mental health (which, to be fair, is probably true), so now I’m not going to be a part of that even though I previously wanted to.

6. Because I left without telling anybody, it means the folks I got a ride with did not take me back home. I happened to leave my apartment keys in their car, and can only get back in the apartment thanks to my roommate. I tell them they can give me back my keys during the show (which was today) and go to bed.

7. Today’s the show! It goes perfectly fine. But my keys are still missing, and my friend who gave me a ride apparently took them out of the car and now we don’t know where they are. We searched all over their car, their apartment, everywhere, and it turns out my keys are just missing. Now I have to get a copy from my roommate’s key.

All in all, it’s been fucking rough. A literal domino effect of absolute shit, all because of my own personal negligence and bad judgement. In hindsight, it’s kind of fucking hilarious how much I fucked myself over, it’s literally a goddamn comedy of errors.

#will talks whatever #occasionally my life will just have a continuous number of complete fuckups in a short period of time #and at this point i’ve learned to laugh at it #because if i don’t i will cry and probably want to die

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sixstepsaway · 2 years

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cw personal stuff, mental health, menstruation, adhd, medication, passively suicidal thoughts

so i have PMDD, which isnt great, and over the last decade or so i've been tweaking my entire life to try and make said life livable

a rundown: if i am unmedicated, have no vitamin supplements and do nothing in particular to handle my pmdd, i have three weeks out of every month where i am incredibly depressed, fatigued beyond reason, passively suicidal (as in: i do not think i would move if a boulder was going to run over me, but i am not going to go onto tinder to try and match with a boulder any time soon), apathetic about everything except (if i'm LUCKY, else the depression is worse) my current hyperfixation, unable to focus on anything (so my adhd is worse, which took me until a year ago to realize) and just...terrible

three weeks of every month

i figured out quickly that the pill helps, but i cant have the combined pill (i have migraines) so i'm stuck with the minipill (which is progesterone only, i believe?) of which one brand doesn't give me horrible side-effects

this brings me down to like.. a week and a half before my period is shitty? still passively suicidal, still terrible adhd issues, but less time

i called up my doctor who offered me antidepressants which i didnt really want and she recommended vitamin... B6? which i take a big supplement of, and i will admit helps a lot

but the thing that i hadnt realized was having a really strong (positive) effect is i started taking 5-HTP a few years ago in the hopes it would combat my depression and apathy, which it does! and i did not realize

until i got on my ADHD medication and came off my daily caffeine supplement (which i was using to self-medicate said ADHD) and the 5-HTP in the concern it might have a bad reaction

i'm being titrated on the ADHD medication rn (so week 1 is 20mg, week 2 is 30, week 3 is 40, week 3 (current!) is 50, and finally week 4 is 60, and the goal is to find the dose that has the best effect on my ADHD

this medication is amazing and my fatigue is all but gone, which is astonishing and makes me want to cry with a combination of relief and, i guess, grief? because i've lost 15+ years of my life to thinking my problem (CFSME, which I might still have but i dont KNOW and honestly probably never will) couldnt be medicated/fixed (CFSME they just send you home to rest and reduce stress like meh over here) and it actually could??? i just had the wrong target?? i thought my brain was okay but my body was fucked but actually my brain was broken this whole time? hahaha fuck

anyway that brings us to today where i am sitting here, really low, genuinely wishing a boulder would hit me up on tinder, not really giving a shit about anything (including going downstairs to wake my ducks up for breakfast, you know, the ducks i've been sewing diapers for, the ducks i love more than life itself), kind of wanting to cry

my apathy came back a week or so ago, and i've realized the apathy is what the 5HTP was effectively medicating as well as it was. and now i checked my bujo and sure enough this time last month was my pre-period week so no wonder i want to goddamn die

and i'm still stuck on mobile data (some guy did 60 in a 20 and knocked out the pole that held up all the wires at the bottom of our street and we've had no internet ever since, we're on tethered mobile data and have been this whole time, i have bought 22GB of mobile data and the first 10GB i went through like a flash because it turned out the tumblr app on my phone was using background data like crazy and i hadnt realized and now i'm refusing to buy more data because this is STUPID) and everything just feels helpless and hopeless

and i'm finally feeling all the things about the fact this could have been fixed. this could have been fixed years ago

i didnt have to live like this

#pp #adhd

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queen-haq · 3 years

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Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 13

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language and smut.

Words: ~3000 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost...

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

gif credit: @bilyrusso

Part 13

It was 8 in the evening and you were still in the office. You hadn’t accomplished much work today, your mind mostly focused on Billy. You were surprised by how quickly he’d been able to make the funeral arrangements for his mother. Yesterday you had driven over to the nursing home and by the time you reached there, Carla Russo’s body had already been picked up. You’d signed a few papers for Billy and picked up the remainder of Carla’s things before you returned home. Everything of hers was packed into a small suitcase and sitting in your living room. You wanted to call him, ask him how he was and offer your support, but he seemed determined to do everything on his own when you’d talked to him last and you didn’t want to intrude.

You gave yourself a mental shake, reminding yourself to concentrate. This workday had been a wash. When you weren’t distracted by thoughts of Billy, you were putting out fires in your team. At least the personnel conflicts have been temporarily resolved, but now you needed to work on a slide deck that you’d been tasked with presenting to the executive leadership committee later in the week.

An hour later you were halfway done with your presentation when your phone rang. You glanced down at your screen to find Billy’s name on the screen. “Hi.”

“Hey.” He sounded exhausted. “You still at work?”

“Yeah. How did you know?”

There was a pause. “You give off the workaholic vibe.”

You smiled to yourself; at least he was okay enough to crack jokes. “How are you?”

“You mean am I grieving over a goddamn dead woman who preferred meth to her own fucking son?” He sighed. “No big loss. I’m fine.”

Anger and hurt saturated his voice despite his attempts to sound unaffected. Your heart hurt for him, you wished there was something you could do. “Do you need anything?”

“The funeral service is tomorrow.” A beat of silence followed. “Do you want to come?”

“Sure. What time?”

“2pm.”

“I’ll take the day off. Do you need my help with anything? Maybe I can call some of her friends?”

“When I found her she was living on the streets, barely alive but still hooked on meth. I doubt she’s got any friends.”

“What about the people in the nursing home? Maybe they want to come?”

“No, I don’t want anyone else there. Just you.”

Not liking the warmth that spread through you upon hearing his words, you reminded yourself he was probably feeling unusually vulnerable. This wasn’t typical of him.

“Do you want to come over?” he asked.

You exhaled a heavy sigh. “I would but I have so much work to do. I’ll be here for another hour at least.”

“Come over after you’re done.”

“It’ll be really late.”

“That’s fine. I can wait.”

“I can stop by my place to pick up your mom’s-.”

“No, it’s okay.”

You realized he wasn’t quite ready to go through Carla’s belongings yet.

“Bring your stuff with you.”

“Stuff?”

“Overnight bag, clothes for tomorrow, whatever.”

“Oh. You want me to stay over?”

“Yeah, might as well. We can drive over together for the service tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

Despite the conversation coming to a natural end, he wasn’t hanging up. It seemed as if he was reluctant to be alone, probably because that meant dealing with the complicated emotions for his mother. You knew exactly how that felt. “If you want, I can leave now. I can work from your apartment instead of the office.”

“You’re not worried I’ll be tempted to spy on Valiant stuff?” he teased.

You smiled. “As if I’d let you see what I’m working on.”

“Guess no corporate espionage for me tonight.”

“Still going to keep you away from my laptop.”

He chuckled. “Just get here. I promise not to bug you while you work.”

“Okay. I’m leaving now.”

“See you soon.”

After you hung up, you started gathering your things together.

***

An hour later, you were at his place. When he opened the door, you immediately grew concerned at how tired he looked. Traveling back and forth from Vegas plus dealing with the news about Carla’s death within the last few hours meant he was absolutely exhausted.

“Hey,” he greeted you, smiling as he took the overnight bag from your hands.

You removed your heels while he took your bag inside his room and then made your way to his living room. While his penthouse suite was much bigger than yours, you actually didn’t like it very much. Despite the high-end finishes and the beautiful interiors - Billy had obviously hired a designer to make the place look good - it always felt very cool and inhospitable to you. It was too perfect and you always felt out of place inside the suite.

“You hungry?” he asked, coming up behind you. “I ordered dinner for you.” Arms encircling your waist, he dropped a kiss on the back of your head as he maneuvered you to the kitchen. He’d laid out the food for you on the dining table, and from the take-out containers you knew it was from one of your favourite Indian restaurants. The thoughtful gesture surprised you, you weren’t used to that from him. Noting that he’d only set the table for one, you turned around to look at him. “You’re not going to eat with me?”

“I ate already. I was starving. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” You cradled his face with one hand, your eyes roving over his beautiful face as he placed a kiss on the fleshy part of your palm. “You look exhausted. Did you even sleep?”

“No” He leaned back against the kitchen counter, weary. For a moment he closed his eyes, simply holding still, and you found yourself wrapping your arms around him in a hug. You didn’t understand why you’d even initiated the embrace – hugs were never your thing – but seeing him so beaten-down you were desperate to comfort him. He leaned into you, his body flushed against yours, and you held him tight. Stroking the nape of his neck, you placed a soft kiss on the center of his forehead. “Why don’t you take a nap while I work?”

“You don’t mind?”

You smiled up at him, running your fingers through his hair. “At least I don’t have to worry about you stealing my company secrets while you sleep.”

He smirked. “You’ll be here when I wake up?”

“Yup. Probably still working away.”

Billy grazed your temple softly before dropping a tender kiss on the tip of your nose. “Okay, but eat first.”

You nodded your head, watching after him as he sauntered out of the kitchen and disappeared down the hallway.

Sighing, you went to the sink to wash your hands before eating.

***

It was after midnight and you were still working on your slide deck when you heard Billy puttering around in the bathroom. Soon he slowly made his way towards you, dressed in a t-shirt and black boxers, his hair all messy. He yawned lazily, falling onto the other end of the couch.

“I thought you’d sleep through the night,” you remarked.

“Are you still working?” he asked.

“Almost done.” You saved the file and shut off the laptop before slipping it back inside your bag.

Suddenly he pulled you closer and you found yourself tucked underneath him on the couch as he glanced down at you from above. “You work too hard.”

You smiled up at him. “They don’t pay me the big bucks to sit there and look pretty.”

A slow, incandescent smile curved his lips. “I would. If I ran Valiant, you’d be my personal stress relief. You’d be in my office the entire time and do nothing but look pretty and service me.”

“That’s sexual harassment.”

Billy shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever. I’d make it worth your while.”

You laughed, angling up to kiss him. “Your breath is all minty fresh.”

“I brushed my teeth for you.”

“Wow. Be still my heart.”

A warm grin covered his face as he shifted down your body to nuzzle your neck. His weight was heavy as he rested atop you, but you liked the solid feel of him on you, the way you felt all safe and warm. You stroked his hair while he drew lazy circles on your chest, the silence between you two comforting.

“No one knows about her. Not Frank, not Curtis, no one.”

Those names were familiar to you because Billy had mentioned them in passing a few times. Of course he’d never shared any other info, but you being you, you’d dug around and found out more about them. You knew they’d served with Billy and he considered them his closest friends.

“When I found her three years ago, I put her in that home and forgot all about her.”

“You visited her every week,” you reminded him.

“Because I wanted her to regret abandoning me. I wanted her to see how far I’d come, I wanted to throw her mistakes in her face. But I don’t think she regretted safe-havening me, not even a bit.”

The bitter pain in his voice made your heart hurt for him.

“Maybe I should be happy she’s finally dead, or maybe I’m supposed to be sad or something.”

“How do you actually feel?”

“Nothing. I feel nothing.”

“Billy, I think that’s normal. There’s no right or wrong in this. All of your feelings are valid.”

“Even if her dying made me absolutely ecstatic? You wouldn’t think I was a fucking psychopath?”

“You are a psychopath but not because you have conflicting emotions about your terrible mother dying. You have the right to feel how you feel about her, whatever that might be.”

Eyes blazing with emotion, he hovered about you to meet your gaze. “Then what makes me a psychopath?”

You quirked your eyebrow. “The fact you want to torture my dates.”

“Not just torture, I want to kill them.” Eyes darkened, voice velvety-smooth, he covered your mouth with his and ravaged you with a kiss that left you thrumming and breathless.

“Only you’re allowed to touch me?” you asked through labored breaths.

“Yes.” His voice was a lustful rasp, his mouth leaving a heated trail as he sucked on the oh-so-sensitive corner of where your neck and shoulder intersected. Sparks of electricity ran down your spine. “Only me.”

You took his hand and guided it down your body, parting your thighs for him.

Like always, you were soon completely lost in the erotic pleasure of his mouth on you. Your legs hooked over his shoulders, your hands grabbed the back of the couch for support as he fucked you with his hands and mouth, sucking you, licking you, his tongue flicking over your clit until you were keening under him. Body arching off the couch, you moaned his name louder and louder until he drove you completely over the edge.

Then you felt a light slap on your cunt which immediately brought you back to reality. Opening your eyes, you found Billy perched between your legs, gracing you with the most wicked smile. “That’s one.” He slapped your pussy again, this time his long, lean fingers ever so slightly grazing your clit and your hips bucked, wanting more. “As promised.” His eyebrow quirked up. “Punishment.”

“Not fair,” you protested. “I’ll date who I want.”

He slapped you again, a little harder this time, but then he leaned down to place comforting kisses on the very spots he assaulted and you moaned with pleasure.

“All of you.” His tongue lapped over your clit, eyes locked with yours. “Belongs to me. I own you.”

“You don’t!” You squealed when he flipped you over unexpectedly, grabbing you by the hips so your ass was lifted of the couch. And then he squeezed your butt cheeks, biting them lightly before he started rimming you.

***

After sharing a shower the two of you were laying in his bed, your back pressed against his chest as you both stared up at the ceiling. His one hand was intertwined with yours, the other arm circled around your hips. The two of you didn’t have sex but you didn’t mind. You were both fatigued.

“I smell like you now,” you murmured, realizing the soap in his shower had left its scent on you.

“I know. I like it.” He squeezed your fingers. “I have a present for you.”

“I hope it’s not earrings again.”

He chuckled. “No, not earrings.”

“What is it then?”

“Jewelry.”

You turned back to look at him. “What? Like a necklace?”

“Something like that. Except I’m the only one who’ll see you wearing it.”

“Ah. And where is this gift?”

He kissed the top of your head. “Not here yet.”

You smiled to yourself. “People usually wait until they have the gift in hand before telling others about it.”

“I couldn’t wait. I’m excited to see you wear it.”

He stroked your hair, and your eyes grew heavy. Soon you started falling into deep slumber, feeling calm, comforted by Billy’s arms around you.

“What happened with your family?”

Your eyes flew open. Like always, any mention of your family unfurled anxiety within you. You didn’t like thinking about them letting alone discussing them. “They passed away.”

“They’re dead?”

“Yes.”

“Both of them?”

“Yes.”

He pulled you up so you were facing him now, his intoxicating gaze completely focused on you. “That day when I asked you about the pictures, you said you weren’t close to your family.”

“I meant my extended family. I don’t keep in touch with them,” you replied smoothly.

“What were your parents like?”

Irritation surged through you at his obtrusive questions but you had to remind yourself he just lost his mother. He was feeling out-of-sorts, working through his grief – even if he didn’t think so – and he was reaching out to the only person in his life that knew about his mother. “Normal.”

He simply stared at you for a long time, studying you, saying nothing. “Normal,” he repeated, finally breaking the strained silence.

You shrugged your shoulders, dropping your gaze to the base of his throat so you didn’t have to hold his piercing stare. “Yup.”

“How did they die?”

“Car accident.”

“You miss them?”

“Of course,” you lied.

He reached out to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. “So you grew up with great parents, white picket fence and all that bullshit? Sounds like you had a fairytale childhood.”

“Can we talk about this tomorrow? I’m really tired.”

“Sure. I’ll add this to the list of all the other shit we’ll talk about someday.”

He sounded almost angry with you and you weren’t sure why. Before you could question him, however, he pulled you close so you were snuggled against his chest and the warmth of his body was enough to silence your brain and lull you to sleep.

***

It was a cold, crisp autumn day in New York. The outdoor service, attended by only you and Billy, was short and quick. Throughout it, he’d gripped your hand even though he’d been outwardly calm and collected. Even now as he stood a few feet away from you, impeccably dressed in a black suit, his dark eyes hidden behind a pair of aviator sunglasses as he stared out at the pond, you sensed he was a complete mess inside. You didn’t know what to say to him so you simply sat on the bench, both of you in an isolated corner of the garden. Eventually he came to sit beside you, taking your hand in his.

“I’d have given her the whole world.” His voice was filled with pain and longing as he removed his sunglasses and tucked them in the upper pocket of his suit. “I would have given her anything she ever wanted.” Billy’s eyes met yours. “If she’d just wanted me.”

You scooted closer to wrap your arms around him, breathing him in as he sunk into you. His hands caressed your back, his grip on you so tight you almost couldn’t breathe. After a while he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes holding you prisoner in front of him.

“Swear to me you’ll never leave.”

“Billy-”

“Promise me!”

“I can’t.”

“It wasn’t a fucking request, Y/N.”

You tried to pull away from him but he fisted the back of your hair, holding you in place.

The raw urgency in his voice played havoc with your emotions. If you closed your eyes, just for a moment, you could shut out all the doubts in your head and simply believe him - but you could only live the fantasy for a short moment before reality forced its way back in. “You don’t mean those words, Billy.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you don’t feel that strongly about me.”

His eyes narrowed, glaring at you with hostility. “You’re gonna tell me how I feel?”

“I’m not what you want.”

“And what do you think I want?”

You gave him a sad smile. “The best of everything. Best car, best clothes, the most beautiful women in your arms. You want all that because you need others to want what you have.”

“Is that so wrong?”

You shook your head. “No, there’s nothing wrong with that – except I don’t fit into any of those categories. You want a woman like Dinah Madani. I’m not her. So eventually this thing between us will end.”

His jaw was set in a grim line, eyes burning bright with rage. “So you have me all figured out, huh?”

“Don’t get mad. You know it’s the truth.”

He yanked you closer, crushing you against him. “It’s been me against the world for as long as I can remember. But when I look at you.” His eyes softened, mouth parting as his dark gaze roamed over your face. “I don’t feel alone anymore.”

Your heart melted. The tenuous handle you had on your self-control disintegrated completely. You closed your mouth over his, kissing him frantically as he picked you up and straddled you across his lap.

He pulled back to look at you. “You’re my home. You’re all I need.”

Part 14

A/N - As always, all of your feedback, comments, asks, likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated. They truly inspire me to keep writing, so thank you from the bottom of my heart.

If you want to be added/removed from the tag list, please let me know.

Tag List:;

@yourfavoritefruitybitch @voyevoda-thejoy @adreamemporium @queenmalhinewahine @gubleryum @galaxyjane @xceafh@maralisa124@tomhollandisabae @daybleedsintonightfa11 @lil-baby-nor@all-art-is-quite-useless @tanyaherondale @nashibirne @dour-trash @thetallassgirl @athenamikaelson @agent-jbarnes @primadonnasdream @aleksanderwh0r3 @elisemockingbird @nihilismworld @archisur@nemesis729 @lysawayne@kaqua @ladyblablabla @lemasonda@advictedtohim @24-martie @tarkanelima-blog @shinebrightlikeafanbase @krystal-clear1 @damalseer@dontjinx-it@darkishx @wanderlusting-about-life @thatguppienamedbae @happypepperdog @bat-revival @sassygirl25 @consulting–heroes @the-celestial-kitsune @mackaywhore @ablxssm @competitive-dust @red-head011 @exo-1204 @sunsetenigma @millieb-3199 @chatnain @licensedcheek @tinkertailor1212 @vertesalope @safetyhtom @acourtofglassandroses @eliwinchester-barnes @finnismyoriginalsin @weallhaveadestiny @beananacake @beauty-and-the-beast97 @smurfelle @fire-treasure-iii @charly-0 @kestrafagnor @pigwidgeonxo @damagelove @allegra-writes @pensandthings @jad3djay @batshitbarnes @kashimayuki @secretsthathauntus @odetostep @awesome-eccia @mackaywhore @stories-you-wont-hear @vvsdiamond28 @supernaturalcat7 @arieltwvdtohamflash @iknownoqueenbutthequeeninme @devs-stufff @ticosas @moodacheeks @myakai13 @carlywhomever @fvckthisbxtchup @its-evita-here @papapapadumb @talesfrommycell @bat-luna-cat @fific7 @elluvians @dailydoseofchoices @everythinghappens-love @papapapadumb @mylife-love-and-other-things @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @ancientbeing10 @natty2245 @stuckysavedmylive @kasslucilfer @simp-for-ben-barners @originaldeputycalzoneegg @bdffkierenwalker @kimoranelson03 @sadbi-hours @haushinka27 @haushinka27 @caylaxwrites @extraneousred @agentmstark @crazywitchkitty @its-an-idea-not-a-blog @partypoison00 @fictional-hooman

#billy russo x reader #billy russo #ben barnes #the punisher #billy russo imagine

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mochiswifey · 2 years

Text

ARRANGE MARRIAGE

SUMMARY: Uruka loved him but he didn't returned it, not until she forgot who he once was to her.

CW: Agegap,Crack,Angst,Violence. *MDNI*

2 3 4 5

Until you come back home.

Kanji Mochizuki

"I want to live a peaceful life with you." She tells him softly as she lay her head on his hard chest.

It wasn't like him to let her comfortably wrap her arms around his waist after the two of them slept together. He usually gets dressed and leaves for either his work or the company of older women he prefers more.

She fell in love with him and with her connection with the European mafia? Sealing a marriage with him was a piece of cake. But having him fall for her? That's a whole new story.

Uruka was just fresh out of high school and just started attending college when she fell for him. There was no reason. Nothing.

She just fell for him.

Falling in love with him was an understatement. It was more than that. She fell a little too hard that she pretended that every rumor of him going to clubs, bars, meeting older women after lying he was at work, she pretended not to hear it even though deep down she knows it's all true.

"If possible, if I got out of this war alive. Will you consider leaving the front line and continuing life with me on an island perhaps? Just you and I. And our future kids."

He gave her no answers. But it was all clear to Uruka.

Those were her first wishes to him and those were her final wishes as well before she forgot who he was to her.

It’s been a month since Uruka left for a brutal war in a foreign land. Kanji didn’t care because she always came back to him no matter what. No matter how deadly the wars she went. So, he didn’t bother checking if she was still alive. Due to that fact, unbeknownst to him, she was just in a critical coma three days before he sees her again. But he was right. She came back. What he didn’t expect was her forgetting him.

"Who the hell are these people?" She was dressed in baggy clothes like the first time she met him. She gets easily cold but she endured all of it and started wearing clothes she thought he'll like all for the sake of having his attention even if it was just for a moment.

"What happened to her?" The leader of Bonten looked at her brother who was mentally hitting himself for forgetting to tell them that the only memory she has are the memories 2 days before meeting them.

"Uruka, lost all of her memories-"

"I didn't. I lost 2 years’ worth of memories but it's not a problem." She corrects her brother. Her voice wasn't sweet or anything they could remember. It sounded so cruel. Unfamiliar.

The other executives were panicking, her marriage with Kanji was what made them important to the European racists without her they won't be seen as prominent men. But Kanji remained calm.

"How long till she gets it all back?"

"She won't." For the first time, he was worried. Not for Bonten's position or anything else. He was worried about her and her love for him he so stupidly ignored.

"Oi, Rui. Who did I stupidly marry during that goddamn 2 years?" She sat beside her brother as she boredly look at each and one of the Bonten members.

Kanji instantly knew she truly did lose her memories because she never sat beside her brother. She always sat on his lap even though he made it clear he didn't want her.

"Him. Kanji Mochizuki." Her brother points at Kanji and he felt himself panicking. He never panics. He's the composed calm executive who never fails to react accordingly to every situation he's in. But this time he didn't have any idea how to remain calm or how to react.

"Him? Goddamn. I was on some hard drugs for the last 2 years it seems." She slams her palms on the meeting table and looked at him wide eyed not believing she fell for the man her brother is pointing at.

"I'm a goddamn war front-runner, a damn good one too and I married him? Are you trolling me now Rui?" She squints her eyes and turned her head to her brother who's laughing.

"Deadass serious. You were crazy for him. The bastard was cheating on you and you were like "Those are just rumors. He's a good man." and I was like biiiiiiiitch." Her brother said in a mocking tone which made her pinch his waist.

"Ouch."

"No, I didn't fall for the old man. I was out of my mind for the last 2 years. There's no goddamn way."

"Well, whether you like it or not. He's your husband."

"WHAAAAAT? Bruh. Bruh. You got me fucked up. Like shiiit. Wait. Hold up. Where's fucking Kaido?" She mentions her ex. Kanji doesn't know him and he has no intention of knowing him but her mentioning a name she never mentioned before made his blood boil.

"America? You broke up with him for like seven billion times before you marry this man."

"Can you stop reminding me I stupidly marry someone I don't even find attractive?"

"Wow, you were all over Mochi less than a month ago. You even went as far as pretending you didn't know he was cheating-"

"That's enough Ran." Kanji stopped the older Haitani. Sanzu was giggling along with the younger and older Haitani. The rest was serious. Them losing Uruka was a serious case.

"Terminate the marriage Rui." She says unbothered.

"No, you can’t," Mikey spoke. She paved Bonten's way to the bigger world and losing her was something they will never afford.

"Mochi was stupid for cheating and doing things a man should never do to his woman." The boss started.

"I'll make sure he stays loyal to you and only to you. Just give him a chance." His voice was blank but he sure made a big promise.

Uruka chuckled before bringing her legs up to the meeting table and leaning back to her chair.

"You see, I don't give a fuck about his loyalty. I don't even remember him. He can fuck whomever he wants to fuck. What I want is the termination of the marriage that is tying me to him." She harshly points at Kanji. Her eyes went to him before landing on the ring on her finger.

She rolled her eyes and opens her palm and started examining the ring.

"Fuck, 24-carat diamond. No designed just plain." She says before removing it and looking at the inside. No initials.

"I thought this was from Kaido."

"The two of you broke up!" Her brother stated once more.

"I know, I was the one who drove him to the airport- shit. This is so fucking weird. I know it's been like 2 years and I was married and all of that shit but in my mind I broke up with him just 2 weeks ago and like it's so fucking weird." She says as she toss the ring to the floor the sound of it hitting the marble floor echoed to the room and each sound it made was a dagger stabbed on Kanji's heart.

"It's fucking trippy. I remember like being so goddamn emotional and being like. Kaido hurry up and come back so we could marry and not get divorce for like 12 times." She laughs masking her aching heart with her own humor, and she laughed blind to the fact that her words were hurting her husband.

Kanji never heard her talk about other men. She was loyal to him while he wasn't to her.

"Did he and I ever meet after he went to America?"

"I don't think so, you got married a month after he went to America. Like you just fucking fell in love with that man." Her brother was still in a light mood while Uruka's instantly darkens.

"Put the fucking jokes aside, did I break Kaido's heart? Is he married to someone else? And like has a child?" She was seriously worried. And that look was only for Kanji.

"Nope, I don't think so. But bruh let's talk real right now. You were married for 2 years. Knowing Kaido he's probably mad pissed at you right now because as dysfunctional and goddamn toxic the two of you were. You and him know fucking each other like the back of your goddamn neck or something. You two loved each other and you just threw that shit away and married him." Her brother sat down after telling her his opinion.

"You two were like Joker and Harley. But like after 7 lines of cocaine and 2 packs of weed."

"I know." Her voice sounded so defeated and Kanji hated it. He hated everything that has happened and everything he has heard for the past 10 minutes.

"You're not leaving me for someone else."

"Shut your old ass."

"DAMN, I like her better now." Sanzu claps earning a glare from Mikey.

"We gotta do something about this fucking marriage I got myself into."

"Uruka." Kanji follows his wife as she walks away from the meeting room leaving the executives and her brother in panic.

The meeting didn't end well. Her brother agreed with Mikey that terminating the marriage will be a disaster but she doesn't share the same opinion and it made her go ballistic. Throwing chairs, and violently smashing them to the walls. She went mad.

"Uruka please, talk to me."

"You can talk to the wall Mochizuki San."

What the fuck?

She never called him that. It always has been Kanji Kun or Mochi. And she never talked to him like that. She was always sweet to him.

"Uruka, you're my wife. You're my fucking wife!" He yelled at her trying to grab her hand but she didn't let him.

"First of all, ew. Second of all ew."

"Don't do this, please. I beg you just stop walking and talk to me. I just want to have a calm conversation with you." It's the first time he talked to her like that.

When she was who she was before he was always cold and dismissive. He didn't even try to thank her for the exquisite rare gifts she works her ass off to get him. And he didn't even try to converse and get to know his wife. Karma is truly a bitch.

"I don't wanna have a talkie talkie with you okay? Now the least you can do is let me go home."

"Fine. I'm driving?"

"W-what? I'm going home."

"WE FUCKING LIVE TOGETHER!"

"Oh... fuck then. I forgot you're my husband."

Kanji didn't know what to do. But he wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.

"Look Mochizuki San, fine. I won't terminate our marriage. Just like leave me alone and I'll leave you alone."

"Uruka, I don't fucking understand you. You were never this difficult."

"Well sucks for you because I've always been difficult. Who you married? That bitch is dead. Like dead dead. I was never a sweetheart and if only you took probably a day or so and didn't cheat for like 24 hours or less and spend those time with me? You'll probably know by now how bitchy of a person I can be." She spat out while snapping her hand in front of him.

"Okay! I'm 21 right? Not 19 anymore. Damn. I feel so fucking old" She started massaging her temples as she sat on the floor.

"Don't sit there Uruka it's fucking dirty."

"I don't give a fuck, you're giving me a headache. So like fuck you."

This girl will give me a heart attack.

"Okay, sit."

"No fucking way I'll sit on the floor."

"Sit or I'll fucking slit your throat."

Kanji sighed and hesitantly sat down across of her.

"K, I wanna make a deal."

"You're my wife-"

"STOP SAYING THAT I'M YOUR WIFE IT'S DRIVING ME INSANE!" She yelled at Kanji totally frustated. And surprisingly he found it cute.

"Okay, just say what you want but know there's no way we're terminating this marriage."

"Yeah, I got that." She took a deep breathe before leaning to the wall.

"No marriage termination. I'll still live in the same house as you. But no sex-" She gagged which made him raise his eyebrow.

"No sex?"

"P-please stop. The mere thought of kissing you is making me really sick let alone having your dick inside me."

"You're kidding, right? You were the one who's always riding-"

"LALALALALLALALALALALA!" She covered her ears and started singing nonsense until she saw Kanji's mouth closed.

"Now, no sex. No touchy touchy."

"Anything else?" Kanji asked hoping that her conditions are over.

"One more thing, we are tied to each other by some stupid papers but I'm Uruka Ichigami. Not Uruka Mochizuki okay? We live together but we continue our lives before we met."

"I-"

"If you don't agree then I'll fucking start a civil war. I don't care how much men, money, or goddamn allies we lose because at the end of the day my brother and I always prevail so, it's your choice."

Kanji can't remember the life he had before marrying her. Yes, sure. He can remember his infidelity but he also remembers her sweetness and the unconditional love she had for him.

He doesn't remember his life without those things.

“I don’t remember my life without you.” Hearing him say that made Uruka confused. His words shouldn’t affect her because she doesn’t remember him. But somehow it made her happy. Maybe even after she forgot, her love for him and the want for his love remained. It’s not clear but she was quick to mask it.

“That’s sweet? I guess. But sorry. I don’t remember you being in my life. I don’t remember how I started living my life with you or for you. The stories I’ve heard from my brother and your colleagues made it seem that I was too in love with you to even have self-respect. And believe me or not. I don’t wanna fall and be a dumb bitch again.”

“I’m hungry.” She says out of nowhere. After the two of them agreed on each other’s condition they decided to go home together.

“What do you wanna eat?” He asked for the first time.

“Food.”

“Oh my god.”

“Yeah, you gotta deal with me now asshole. If you just agree-“

“What kind of food do you want to eat? Could you elaborate?” Kanji says as he opens the door for her. Also a first.

“Tasty food.”Kanji slammed the door shut and she laughs liking how annoyed he looked. On the other hand, Kanji was having a hard time deciphering his wife. The girl he knew before did everything for him but this time. It’s the other way around.

“Seafood? Meat? Vegetables? Fucking horse? What kind of food Uruka.”

“Nah, like something good I guess? I don’t know- you know what never mind let’s just go to the convenience store.”

The old man agreed and so they went to her favorite store. Mini-stop. She went out of the car and happily entered the store and took a basket. Kanji followed her and he was amused to see her new side.

“Fuck, no fucking way! Caramelcorn? Pistachio flavor?” She took her favorite snack and threw a couple in the basket.

“Spam Musubi? In you go. Pistachio milk? You too baby. Melon flavored cream buns, fucking beef wrapped- Hey Mochiziku San, this is all for me so you should start getting your food ‘cause ain’t no way I’m sharing.” Kanji rolled his eyes and did what she told him. He took a couple of foods and alcohol he found interesting and quickly went back on following her. She was looking at the various breads on the shelves when he noticed younger men eyeing her up. He didn’t like it not one bit so he stood beside her and glared at the men making them scram away.

“Don’t need to get protective and all types of shit, it’s not your duty.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you damn well do.”

“Nope, but if you’re allowed to enlighten your husband.” He emphasized the word “husband”.

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you too.” He replied and surprisingly it made her laugh.

“You know if we were in love? Maybe, I’ll actually like you.”

“I’m flattered but I don’t follow.”

“You don’t need to follow darlin’ you just gotta feeeeeeeeel.” She looks at him and wiggled her eyebrows. Kanji wanted to pinch her cheeks so bad but he refrained himself knowing his touch will annoy her and he didn’t want to end her calmness. Not yet.

They went to the cashier and he tried to pay for both of them but she simply declined. Her husband didn’t like it but he suddenly remembered that she was the one who was always paying for everything and it truly did broke his heart. He was an asshole who realized how much of an ass he was only after he lost the only girl who truly loves him. Not his money or influence.

She noticed that he went quiet and figured her actions must’ve reminded him of something. She's like an eagle. Quick to notice every little detail.

“Did I know you?”

“Uruka, what kind of question is that?”

“No, I’m not trolling. But when we were married- technically we still are but when I was in love with you.”

Was in love. He wanted to laugh so bad. Just a month ago she was madly in love with him now she doesn’t even like him. A month ago she was willing to die for him and now she wouldn’t care if he just dropped dead in front of her. And he hated it.

“Did I know you or was I just pretending to know you? Did I love you like I loved Kaido?”

“I don’t fucking know who Kaido is.”

“He’s someone that I fucking love. To death. The funny thing is I’ve always told myself that no matter how the world tears us apart we will always find our way back to each other.” She didn’t have any single idea that her words are starting to tear her bastard husband apart. He didn’t want to listen but he forced himself to. It’s the least he could do to pay for all the pain he inflicted on her.

“Knew each other since grade 4. Bonded over the love for English and over the fact that we’re the only foreigners in our school. Dated when were 14. Turns out that two immature, selfish, rage-filled, and over jealous brats shouldn’t date so we broke up. Got back together a few times until we realized we were better off as friends. He went away for two years and I knew I will always love him the second I saw him again. 16, dated again until we decide to break up because he was leaving for LA.”

Her voice became weaker and weaker. He noticed it and it made him wonder why. It started so joyfully. He knew from the sound of her voice that she and the boy she was talking about had a rough relationship but he also knew they had a good foundation. Something he broke for making her fall in love with him. He knew it wasn’t his fault and it left him clueless about how he unintentionally did it but he’s not confident about him doing it again.

He never knew about Kaido Kitahara. She never brought him up. But she seems to have loved him so much so how? How did she choose him over the boy she seems to have loved more than him.

“You know my memories, they’re fucked. The last thing I remember is falling asleep telling myself it’ll just be 6 months until I see him again. 6 fucking months. We were toxic but there’s no doubting our love for each other. And then I woke up. In a hospital. White walls and machines attached to my body. I thought it was a sick joke. Then doctors rushes in and everything suddenly catches on fire.”

She wasn’t crying. Tears weren’t seen but he knows her heart is broken. Not because of him or the things he did.

“I was 19 when I last closed my eyes then I’m suddenly 21. 2 whole years have passed but in my mind, it was just 2 weeks ago when I was dropping him off at the airport. In my mind…. It was just 2 weeks when I last wrapped my arms around his neck telling him that we were gonna get married after he came back.”

“You regret marrying me?”

Her eyes were glued to the window all these times she has been talking. But after he asked her the question she hasn’t thought about she slowly turned her head to him.

“Funny thing is, I haven’t thought about regret. What I think often after my brother told me I impulsively married someone is the reason why I would do such a thing because all I remember is loving a brunette boy not you or anyone else.”

"I want to live a peaceful life with you."

"If possible, if I got out of this war alive. Will you consider leaving the front line and continuing life with me on an island perhaps? Just you and I. And our future kids.”

Her words before she forgot him echoed in his mind.

Uruka never wished or asked him for anything. All she wanted from him was his love. And it pains him remembering he didn’t give her that. Not even an ounce.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading. Reblogs & Replies are greatly appreciated.

A/N Kanji's part is longer because I'm a fucking simp for him.

Arts do not belong to me. Kanji's art belong to Favbeans.

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mandareeboo · 3 years

Text

SU Music Rankings

Bc I can and I wanna start some Disk Horse rip. These are all in order of preference, with explanations, etc. It’s a long bitch. That said, I’m not counting little short jingles or small joke songs like Little Butler. This is the meat and potatoes of SU music- just under 30 songs. I might do the rest if people like my takes lol.

I scored it mostly on three bases- how dear it was to my heart, how much/often I relisten to it, and also what it means to the plot. That said, little fun songs don’t automatically go farther down than big, plot-heavy songs either! It’s a strange little balance.

Special Note: I don’t dislike any of this music! I love SU and that includes its bumps and glitches. I just pick favorite children lol.

1.) Change

Was there ever a more Steven moment than when he wiped the blood off his face and kissed it into sparkles? I think not.

If “Be Wherever You Are” is an ode to young Steven, then this is teen Steven’s. Talking about change, and how much and how little it can do. How he holds his arms up for Spinel to hug him, so trusting. How he seems able to just. Break into soft tears at will, and not to be manipulative- it’s just his kind nature. The warmth in his voice. Fuck yesssss.

2.) Change Your Mind

This song is only fifty five seconds and it’s EVERYTHING to me. It really felt like someone was speaking the words I’d always held deep inside of me, unsure of how to say. It feels like a goodbye to someone who never really loved me.

As much as I enjoyed Future, if this was the finale of SU, I would’ve been perfectly okay with that.

3.) Drift Away

This song gave me legitimate shivers the first time I heard it, and it still haunts me to this day. Spinel stayed, and waited, and all she got was a transmission thousands of years later. Fuck.

4.) Here We Are In The Future

THE MOVIE IS SU AS ITS BEST AND I WON’T BE SWAYED ON IT. Steven being a teen who loves his weird family but is growing just a bit sarcastic to their drama. The adorable love he and Connie share. His slow realization that he will always be working, always have things to do, is both somber and real. The Crystal Gems won’t be safe with one epic battle. They’ll be safe with years of hard work and love. HIS LITTLE HANDSHAKE WITH AMETHYST.

This is a helluva bop and a great way to summarize the main character’s backstories.

5.) Let’s Only Think About Love

Did ya’ll know that Zach Callison killed his throat with that last note? He gave his all for this performance in a vocal range he no longer comfortably do and by god did it SHINE. The FLAIR. The FORESHADOWING. All of the Gems all being awkward about Rose and Steven trying to bring them to the present. Peridot having a mini-existential crisis in a cute yellow dress. I love Zach Callison’s normal singing voice but man is that a fucking bop. Nothing will ever beat it.

6.) Here Comes A Thought

This bad boy helped me out a LOT with some mental issues I was dealing with in high school. I was unmedicated, unsupervised, and full of anxiety. I’d have break downs when I tried to speak about certain things. I couldn’t function. This song inspired me. It helped me feel okay with my intrusive thoughts.

And the episode! -chef’s kiss-. Once again bringing up the morally gray area of training child soldiers. Connie expanding her social group. Steven’s trauma hauling ass in that second half. The ANIMATION. Stevonnie’s gorgeous singing voice. GOD yes.

7.) It’s Over Isn’t It?

Just barely squeaking above Stronger Than You, this ballad is everything gorgeous. The whole episode is. I think Mr. Greg stands in the top five of my episodes for the entire show. It even got nominated!

There’s just so much about this song that I love. The gentle melancholy of Pearl’s voice. How the crew had to redo the shots for this bit bc Deedee went so fucking hard. The hard cuts between Pearl, remembering the love of her life, and Steven, who has begun to feel like he took her away. I’d recommend this song to anyone, regardless of what they do or don’t know about SU, simply bc it tugs so many heartstrings of love, loss, and responsibility.

8.) Stronger Than You

Did you realize this episode aired SEVEN years ago? This bitch was what got me into SU! Hearing about Ruby and Sapphire made my little gay heart so happy inside, and then getting a whole song confirming that they were a couple, that their love powered the strongest Gem on the team? Aaaaaaaaa

To this DAY I get excited when I hear Estelle start singing. This song is timeless. This song will live in media history. God I fucking love this song.

9.) Other Friends

I’m not the biggest musical person, so I hadn’t heard of Sarah Stiles before her casting as Spinel, but JESUS CHRIST the lady went hard. She went SO fucking hard. Sarah Stiles started on 100 and somehow just kept CLIMBING. You can just hear the sheer manic energy building in her voice, the anger and resentment. 10/10 Sarah Stiles is a queen.

10.) Independent Together

This made the list entirely bc the crew was like “you’re gonna get a himbo ass Steven-Greg fusion singing with Opal while Garnet flies across the moon on Lion while floating” and I am forever thankful to them for it

11.) Who We Are

Bismuth deserved more songs. ‘Nuff said.

12.) Peace and Love (On the Planet Earth)

It Could’ve been Great is EASILY one of my favorite s2 episodes. I love the entire concept of this song. Of Steven making music to reflect how much Earth means to him and his family. Of him teaching Peridot some self-care. Also Peridot’s singing voice is really cute and squeaky.

I know it’s silly, but I would’ve really enjoyed a flip around of this in Future! Like Peridot reminding Steven how much he loves music, that he needs to take time to relax for himself, maybe with a new verse or just a remix of the original song!

13.) Something Entirely New

I watched this episode as it aired, and I legitimately almost cried. I love Charlyne Yi’s voice so much ya’ll- her raspy, not perfect singing voice against Sapphire’s deep soothing lull is great.

And to have Ruby and Sapphire’s meeting be the way it was- for Ruby to bemoan Sapphire losing Homeworld, to being stuck with a single Ruby, while Sapphire is a noble who has always been taught everyone in her “caste” is vitally important (and has, in her own mind, taken that to mean every Gem, as she should) and how they come together and make each other happy. Good shit good shit.

14.) I’m Just a Comet

The fact that Greg’s music career never really blasted off pisses me off to this day bc Tom Scharpling’s voice is fucking BUTTER. Also the song really feels like a jab at his parents now that we know the kind of dynamic he had growing up. “This life in the stars if all I’ve ever known” is definitely him wiping away their existence after reminding them (and himself) the things they used to say about him.

15.) Do It For Her

This episode. This fucking episode. This episode got me permanently hooked on SU. I’d just binged season 1 and was kinda meh about it overall after the bop of Stronger Than You. “Oh,” I thought to myself, foolishly, “I’ll probably just casually watch this from time to time.”

Like three days later Sworn to the Sword aired and that was it. I was hooked! Pearl’s gentle training song turning darker and darker, Connie’s accompaniment from nervous to determined to fully into such a toxic mindset. The fact that SU had the BALLS to discuss the repercussions of training child soldiers, now and later. This episode was everything to me, STILL is everything to me.

Six years and well over 100 fanfics written later, I think it’s safe to say this show swallowed me whole and never let go.

16.) System/Boot.pearl_final(3)

I debated putting this on the list because it’s not anything crazy important, just a way to show things are Wrong, but I had to do it entirely bc Pearl is so damn SALTY.

Like telling us about the Gems makes sense, she felt like she was given a duty, but she went so damn petty. WHY is that Ruby alone. Gross. This Amethyst is a trash dump. Wtf are you people.

17.) Full Disclosure

This episode really feels like a turning point for SU. Before, the show had its dark moments- but now we’re in the thick of it, and it’s not going away. Full Disclosure felt like an rebuff to the idea of returning to any normal we’d established in season 1. Gems are actually a giant species now. Gems tried to kill us now. There’s this Yellow Diamond bitch who got namedropped. Something about a Cluster.

The song itself is BALLER, with its ingenious use of Steven’s ringtone and photos as he tries to decide whether to clue in Connie on all this nonsense. Meanwhile we, the audience, already know damn well Connie about to yeet some common sense into him.

18.) What’s the Use of Feeling Blue?

I’mma admit it- I’m a Yellow Diamond stan. I’ve always loved her- her anger, her poise, her hardworking nature. I actively argued against the “Yellow Shattered Pink” theories back in the day. But, man, when this arc leaked? I got so overexcited I was too jittery to watch it for like two days. It’s easily my favorite arc of the series. The sheer alien nature of the zoo, the Famethyst, and absolutely Patti Lupone’s beautiful ballad. Goddamn. Yellow singing to Blue to try and help her regain her old status, the warble in her voice as she reminds Blue she misses Pink too, the movement of the bubbles as she talks about attack. It gives me shivers to this day. FUCK.

19.) Tower of Mistakes

This is, fun fact, that only SU song I have completely memorized. The story itself is kinda funny! See, we lost internet at my house for a solid 5 to 6 months when these episodes aired, so I only got a very brief window to view them all. But this was the first Amethyst song in a long while, and I didn’t want to forget it! So I keep replaying it in my head for ages. And that’s still definitely a thing.

Anyway will never not be sad that this entire song was about making it up to Garnet for Amethyst’s perceived slights with Sugilite (which was a two-way road), only for Garnet to pressure her into fusion later when pissed and never discuss it again bc Garnet probably never thought twice about it and Amethyst has the emotional openness of a clam that’s just been told its ugly. Helluva way to make someone feel like shit, G. Helluva way to bottle that shit, Ames.

20.) On the Run

I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a million times: Amethyst! Needed! More! Songs!

The dichotomy between Steven’s play and Amethyst’s honest desire to run away from home is so well-done, especially when you consider a lot of Steven and Amethyst’s actions are playing together. The song is also near and dear to me simply bc it’s my favorite Amethyst episode to exist (well, maybe second to What’s Your Problem, but not by much). Moments like these are all the proof I need that they were right to fuse first.

21.) Be Wherever You Are

This tune really just feels like an ode to who Steven was as a kid. Trapped on an island with no way home, and he’s just happy to be with his friends. The stars are beautiful and not oppressive. Also that one animatic with Lars and the Off Colors playing in the Homeworld Kindergarten to this music was iconic and made this song get stuck in my head for a solid month.

22.) Familiar

I ADORE how the crew use bright neon colors to show how alien Homeworld can be. And Steven recognizing that the Diamonds treat him how the CGs used to, and how prepared he is to “fix” a broken family. It’s a soft, gentle tune about melancholy. Also the Pebbles are beautiful.

23.) Let Me Drive My Van Into Your Heart

Such a cute little love ballad, but every time I listen to it now I just imagine the heart attack Rose must’ve had at the line “And if we look out of place/Well, baby, that's okay/I'll drive us into outer space.” like there’s a Vietnam war flashback if I ever heard one

24.) What Can I Do?

I’m kind of neutral on this one? Rose and Greg both have great voices, but the song itself lacks many lyrics. I think it was definitely a good way to show Rose’s flaws in thinking.

Also, I’m shocked they managed cram that much vaguely sexual innuendo into two minutes, followed by how Not Hetereo that dance between Rose and Pearl was, and not get their asses chewed by it. You go guys.

25.) Cookie Cat

I love a lot of the vibes this song has. The lyrics are so damn prophetic, but they also sound like the kind of weird 90s commercials I grew up on. It’s been like two decades since I saw the Shirley Temple commercial but I’ll be damned if I don’t remember “Animals crackers in my soup! Monkey and rabbits loop-de-loop.”

26.) Giant Woman

I am. NOT the biggest fan of Steven’s original singing voice. I feel bad saying that, since it was just Zach Callison as a kid, but he never jived well with me for some reason. So I wouldn’t listen to this on the fly.

The song itself is still really good though, with all sorts of fun animation of Amethyst and Pearl being bitchy to each other. It’s a bit sad in hindsight to see tiny Steven trying to get his moms to get along. Ahh, season 1.

27.) Strong in the Real Way

This song has SUCH a strong start. Pearl reflecting on Sugilite’s problems, but the show making sure to show us that Pearl’s lack of enthusiasm towards her also lends itself to jealousy as well as just general malaise. How much she cares about Steven, and wants him to grow up strong.

And then Steven just kinda. Ruins it? I appreciate his enthusiasm for tryna bulk up but to take what was starting as such a rich, personal song and broadcasting it to random strangers just makes me a bit sad. Almost a bit angry on her behalf?

28.) That Distant Shore

I KNOW this is gonna create some discourse, but I’m just not the biggest Lapis stan. I love her voice. I love the visuals of the song. And I get why she felt afraid and needed to flee.

But Lapis never got to take responsibility for her own actions. And, in the end, the song feels hollow to me- because we all know she’ll never talk to anyone about it, know she’ll burst back in and destroy the barn, and no one will ever question it. I like Lapis a lot, but I feel like her arc never was fully finished. She never got help. She never learned to feel safe.

29.) Dear Old Dad

I’ve yet to meet a single human being who likes this episode tbh. There’s some great discussion about what kind of parent Greg is from it, and what kind of dynamic he has with the Gems that he felt he had to fake an injury to hang out with his son. Honestly the first half was fine and dandy. It’s just that then they Greg just went out of his way to drag Steven away from missions and such. It never jived well with his character before or after.

Also, is it just me, or does Zach himself sound like he hates the song as he sings it? There’s no passion or heart in his voice. It sounds like they told him to read off cue cards and he did. Tom Scharpling’s best attempts didn’t save this one for being a skipper. But the episode, unfortunately, isn’t, so it gets a spot on here.

341 notes · View notes

snackhobi · 4 years

Text

pairing: jungkook x reader / word count: 7.4k / genre: pacific rim au with brief smut (NSFW, 18+)

summary: there are no secrets in the drift. if jungkook were to see the mess inside your head and heart, laid utterly bare, he’d turn away from you.

warnings: sexually explicit content (briefly), unprotected sex (please be safe when you have sex) / reference to injuries but nothing graphic, giant robots powered by love punching big alien monsters

a/n: this is a birthday gift for the amazing @yeojaa. happy birthday, erin. this is completely self serving and is stuffed full with inside references that I hope you’ll enjoy. I wrote this in two days and it kicked my ass because I did so much reading and researching that turned out to not even come up in the story 👁👄👁 you know when I said I was studying? I lied. I was writing HAHAHAH ily I hope you like it hhhh (this is unbeta’ed so please forgive any mistakes it’s 1:30am as I’m scheduling this) (also summaries are so hard, I’m sorry)

Jeon Jungkook really is the perfect posterboy for a Jaeger pilot.

Broad across the shoulders and trim at the waist, all sharp punches and hard muscle, resilient and tough, with a face that’s the perfect balance of angles and softness; the cut of his jaw easing up and into his pretty mouth, the line of his brows subdued by his warm eyes—he’s a Goddamn vision, raw masculinity overlaid on rich veins of boyishness, glittering stratum that sparkle and shine even under the harsh lights of the Shatterdome.

He pouts when he thinks and his hair hangs a little in his big, big eyes and he has dimples that appear when he grins, teeth poking out onto his pretty pink lips, like someone took a rabbit and turned it into a man and packed on pounds of muscle alongside. Undeniably powerful and strong, but youthful and sweet, too.

Alongside Kim Taehyung—arresting and beautiful and somehow affable and approachable, all at the same time—they’re exactly what South Korea needs right now, propelling the country’s new look for their renewed assault against the kaiju. They’re the lucky new Rangers who’ve claimed ownership of the only Mark-5 that their homeland has produced, Bulletproof Striker, a fucking gorgeous Jaeger bristling with the latest and greatest technology that the world has produced.

But that doesn’t mean they’re the best that South Korea has to offer.

Cypher Zero is smaller, lighter, older, but she’s fierce. Just like her pilots. You and Yoongi might not be the burning beacons of hope that Jungkook and Taehyung are, polished and buffed to a squeaky shine, but you don’t need to be. You’re vicious and victorious and show no signs of stopping. The kaiju kills painted on your Mark-4’s shoulder are evidence enough of that, notches for each monster taken down, spray painted in one tiny corner of the huge swathe of burnished metal plating, the red edges of her midnight skin.

Bulletproof Striker is almost untouched, deployed just once since her recent launch, flawless exterior so at odds with Cypher Zero’s battered facade. Cypher’s beautiful, of course, but bears the history of your skirmishes, inside and out: scuffed paintwork, dented metal, rust dripping down from the ladder rungs dotted across her, melting into the obsidian of her hull.

Jungkook and Taehyung move in a way that’s practiced, disciplined motions of combat that their Jaeger echoes in turn. Her mechanical movements reflect those of the men inside her head, skilled and superb. Stunning. But you and Yoongi? You fight dirty, violent and rough; messy bar room brawls; shattered glass and clawing hands in beer soaked backrooms, tinged sulphur yellow under dirty lightbulbs; two kids who fought against a world that was against them.

(Two damaged people coming together in the Drift to make something even stronger than the sum of your parts.)

(Two damaged people who survived the rough hands of the Jaeger Academy, trying to take them, push them, shape them, break them.)

(Life isn’t kind. You’d learned that young, surrounded in the splintered remnants of your childhood home, the facade of family and happiness already gone, long long long ago, leaving you aching and lonely and cold. The prospect of fighting thousands of tons of alien hatred, lifting out of the depths of the uncaring, dark sea? At least you can see the kaiju coming. Broken households and loneliness? A little harder to lay your hands on.)

(But out of everything you lost, you’d gained one thing—Min Yoongi, another quiet, damaged thing, but with the biggest depths of warmth and love underneath that hard surface; your best friend, your brother-in-arms, growing alongside you, with you. Damaged kids turned bitter teenagers turned razor-edged adults, outcasts in solitude, but together. Not alone.)

(The deeper the bond, the better you fight. Falling into the Drift with Yoongi had been easy, years of tangled connection bleeding into the images that flashed across your brain. The same memories from different angles, overlaid with different emotions, undercurrents eddying under the surface that caught both of you and swept you up in its flow; the same mind, bridged by hundreds of tons of metal and technology and firepower underneath you, linked together in the silence of the Drift.)

There’s reverence, in the way these two new pilots look at you both, reverence and awe and respect alike: older Rangers, more experienced, history written across the worn edges of your Drivesuits, the paint flaking away from your battle armour, scuffs and scrapes on the once unblemished veneer; knowledge etched into the feline slant of Yoongi’s eyes, the turn of your shoulders and hips.

You know Jungkook’s track record. You know of the endless months of assessment and sparring and psych evals and Drift tests and simulation drops that every successful Ranger has to go through, and Jungkook had trumped them all, stood atop them like a conqueror surveying his hard-won lands—gifted, talented, some even said God-touched. And yet for all this indomitable talent and skill, there’s still humility at his core, a willingness to defer with respect.

That deference is obvious whenever he sees you. Jungkook’s dark eyes will touch your own, for a moment, dark and deep and bright—and then his gaze will skitter away, cockiness and bravado dissolving into something submissive, yielding. (Shy.) You’ve watched him orbit you, the younger ranger caught in your gravity, always nearby—the Shatterdome is only so big, for its magnitude and sprawling corridors—but never broaching that final gap, that little step, into Cypher Zero’s space, Yoongi’s space, your space. Keeping himself at arm’s length.

South Korea’s golden boy, less afraid of the Kaiju than he is of his sunbaenim.

Jungkook and Taehyung are both beautiful. But you and Yoongi are less so, unapproachable in ways that the younger pilots aren’t, private and prickly, like grasping a patch of stinging nettles with bare hands, stinging and burning.

As if Jungkook isn’t terrifying and gorgeous in his own ways. As if he doesn’t shine brighter than the sun himself. Taehyung moves through the world with a thoughtless, charismatic ease that Jungkook doesn’t share—but he’s still magnetic, bold and brilliant, monstrously skilled at everything he puts his mind to, training again and again and again to get it right, get it right, get it right.

To get it perfect.

But there’s no level of perfectionism that can surmount the twisted, unpredictable nature of the kaiju belched forth from the breach. No matter how good you are, how strong or fast, how smart or seasoned, sometimes you still get caught in that hurricane, even in a Jaeger.

It doesn’t matter how many engines are packed into each muscle strand. It doesn’t matter how fast the pistons and levers and gears shift and move. It doesn’t matter that the pilots in her cockpit are impeccable and incredible. Under the cloak of deepest night and pouring rain, blanketed in darkness and water from the heavens above and the sea below, movement is impossible to track—and when Steelbrute rises from the waves, no one sees the kaiju coming.

Bulletproof Striker takes the hit. Jungkook and Taehyung fight back but they’re blindsided and overwhelmed, and their Jaeger falls to her knees in the churn of the Pacific Ocean, salt water crashing over her in choppy waves as Steelbrute’s merciless maw gapes wide open.

Cypher Zero is 250ft tall and weighs 1410 tons. You and Yoongi are tiny specks of organic matter in a fearsome behemoth of titanium and tungsten and graphene and circuitry, commanders of a weapon that’s the same size as a skyscraper—and yet you wouldn’t think that for how fast you move. Zero hesitation. No verbal communication. Cypher’s legs cut through endless waves and gain momentum with each crashing step that slams into the seafloor before you leap forward in a flurry of motion and Drift powered fury.

Your motions in the Conn-Pod are ragged and incensed, your arms and legs moving in sync with Yoongi, with Cypher Zero, a snarl ripping out of your co-pilot’s usually quiet mouth as the kaiju lurches underneath you. The world narrows down to this: throwing yourself into the fray, jagged knuckles edged with plasma pummelled into Steelbrute’s skin in a scuffle that’s vicious, aggressive, until Bulletproof Striker regains her footing.

The sun is rising, grey and cold on the horizon when Steelbrute finally sinks into the sea, toxic blood flooding the water with neon blue. When you step out of the cockpit, Yoongi’s fringe is matted with sweat, and you can feel all the places the circuitry suit sticks to your skin—piloting a Jaeger is mentally and physically exhausting, every muscle and organ and bone working overtime for endless hours as you fight tooth and nail. Without the helmets in the way, there’s nothing stopping you bumping your foreheads together, heedless of the sweat slicked there; Yoongi’s hand rests at the back of your head, a familiar cradle.

“All good,” you say. Yoongi lets out a quiet bark of a laugh, rough and exhausted.

“I want a nap,” he says, like he always does, even if you’re a long way away from that, still fully suited and due to speak to the Marshalls. There are so, so many things separating you from the bliss of sleep.

One thing that’s not part of the normal routine, though, is the other pilots catching you, demanding your recognition, respectful (Taehyung) but insistent (Jungkook). You know that Yoongi doesn’t like attention or hero-worship, but there’s nothing except gratitude, here, bent heads and words of thanks. You’d saved their lives, after all. Saved their Jaeger from being torn apart, pain screaming through their own bodies of flesh and bone, connected to their metal monster. Of course they’re grateful.

You dismiss it with a hard cut of your hand.

“It’s nothing,” you say.

You’re speaking the words you know are in Yoongi’s head—years of friendship and shared Drifts leaving his thought processes wide open to you—although you know you’re sharper than he is, harsher than he is, even, for all that he looks like the cold one from the outside. Long lashes and silken hair don’t translate to something soft and feminine and pretty, and you’re all ragged edges and rough parts, bleeding into the delivery of your words. Yoongi rounds the words in his mouth and places them into the world with a rumble of quiet strength that belies his past, but you? Your tongue is cutting and terse and drips with distrust, even when you don’t mean it to, staring at these two boys, Jungkook’s eyes so brown and large when he stares back at you.

The truth is that you care about humanity, of course. You care about humanity and you care about the millions of people in the cities that line the coasts and further inland, and you care about your fellow pilots, skilled but soft-hearted as they are. You’re stronger. You have to be. That’s what Yoongi is, that’s what you are: fighters. You fight dirty because you fight to win, not to protect yourselves. You’ll fight and you’ll die for this, for them, even if there’s no friendship there. Not yet. You’re still too distant, for all that you’d thrown yourself in the line of fire to rip the kaiju from the younger Rangers.

And when Jungkook levels a look at you, there’s a flicker of something. A spark. All the glittering of his warm eyes comes together like the cascading sparks of molten fire that fall when metal is cut through— his eyes score through you, down down down, right to your core, underneath all the armour you’ve laid about yourself throughout your life. Your heart stutters. You’ve been watching Jeon Jungkook, and he’s all cocky Ranger bravado, or innocent brown eyes and shy, curving smiles, and yet.

And yet. You know he sees this soft part of you, somehow. Past the thorns and sharp leaves, past the hard husk, into the rich, bursting sweetness inside, oozing red gems of pomegranate that yield so easily to the fingers and mouth.

(He’s temerarious and modest and wickedly perceptive too, it seems.)

“That was our kill,” he says suddenly. Taehyung—the voice piece of the two, the one who’s been smiling and speaking, easy and slow—goes still at his side.

“What?” Yoongi’s eyes pierce through him, but Jungkook keeps his focus on you.

“Steelbrute. Our kill. It was a hit from our rockets that took him out,” Jungkook says, eyes still glinting with that sparkling shine. Slicing through you with an explosion of light. “Not your blades.”

Silence steals over you, for a breath. It’s never truly silent in the Shatterdome, an iron fortress that never sleeps, but for a second, there’s quiet. It wraps around you. Tight. Almost deafening.

But then you break that silence.

You laugh.

You laugh at the cheeky grin that pulls at Jungkook’s lips, the boyish lift to his face. You laugh at his shamelessness, the sudden 180 from his earlier fear. You laugh at the way he’s diluted this astonishing, formidable thing—humanity coming together to destroy alien predators that threaten the planet—into a competition.

“You’re a menace, Jeon Jungkook,” you say.

Stinging nettles you might be, but if you’re grabbed hard and fast by confident hands, you don’t wound. Jeon Jungkook defers to respect, avoids confrontation, bows his head and quiets his mouth, but he knows, now, that he can do this. That he can push you like this, and you’ll let him, sway against it, let yourself be pushed.

Yoongi slides you a glance out the corner of his eyes, a light touch, a tacit agreement to an unspoken question.

“You can have it. Steelbrute’s yours.” There’s the smallest curl to your lips as you speak for you both. There’s something weirdly easy and familiar to this, to this interaction, even if you’ve barely exchanged words before now, giving this triumph to the other pilots hand over fist.

(Giving it to Jungkook on a platter.)

You can see the flare of triumph in Jungkook’s eyes. You know it’s not for the notch of their first kill, one they can add to their Jaeger. It’s for something far harder to achieve, something far more ephemeral: digging down and past your cool veneer and lifting out a smile, spreading it across your lips like warm butter, liquid gold.

And he keeps making you smile.

Jeon Jungkook, you find, is a force of nature, relentless, an ocean. Sometimes he’s soft, loving waves of glittering blue that crash on pearly white beaches, playful and bright. Sometimes, he’s intense, the crashing waves of a storm tossed sea, powerful and unstoppable. Always, he’s striking, even when he’s not trying—even more so because of it, moving without thought or uncertainty, a silence settling over your thoughts whenever you see him like this. See him in this raw state, so unafraid where before he’d curbed his tongue and bent his head in front of you. Now, he’s just himself, without filter.

Taehyung is there too, of course. Both pilots join your small, fiercely private circle, not just a path from you to Yoongi any more. They become intertwining lines, a pattern that’s drawn between the four of you, pilots, friends. And you learn, that for all that you’d thought that Taehyung was the dominant one outside of their Jaeger, social and extroverted and unabashed, Jungkook isn’t quiet. Not when he’s comfortable.

(Not, now, when he’s with you.)

He’s a myriad of things, endlessly deep, so different from you, from Yoongi, but—the truth of it settles inside you, your joints, the marrow of your bones, the blood that pulses forth from your heart each time it beats in your chest, liquid life running through you.

Drift compatibility.

Not that it matters. You already have a partner. You’re never going to open yourself up to anyone that isn’t Yoongi, who’s seen every part of you already. There’d been no fear about letting Yoongi see inside your brain, your heart, the raw, bleeding parts of you—because he’d already known them. Just like you’d known his. Yoongi stands to your right, inside the Conn-Pod and out, a driving force, even in his silence.

But Jungkook is softer, sweeter, for all his raw power and skill, respect engraved into his every motion, even when he’s teasing and making you laugh. Even when he ignores the social guidelines that he should follow, does follow for others, everyone except you.

And you don’t mind. You don’t bite out insults at him when he slides into the quiet hollow you’ve scraped out, a small space with just enough room for the people you keep in your heart. You’re still barbed and spiked, warding away unwanted attention, but for Jungkook, the claws retract.

You’re still you, of course. Jungkook calls you mean, says that you bully him, even as he’s flopped across your bunk, eating your rations, shovelling coveted popcorn into his mouth. He might pout and sigh and cry oppression, but you’re soft on him and he knows it. That quiet hollow in your heart is a little larger, now, a little louder. Jungkook is brazen in his claim of this space, spreading each of his limbs wide as he fits himself into every part of it. He doesn’t know every piece of your past, and you don’t plan to let him see all the messy parts bundled in your chest, but. But he’s still there.

And you let him stay. You make a home for him inside you and let him take the key. He might tilt his head and goad you, might pretend there’s a genuine challenge in the set of his jaw, but you know it’s all tempered with admiration, veneration. Friendship.

(And where he clearly respects you, you admire him in turn. You’re reminded of your differences every second he moves and breathes and just exists in front of you, but you don’t have to be similar to someone to realise just how incredible they are.)

(But though you’re different, there are similarities. You’re not a mirrored image, a reflection, like you are with Yoongi. Instead, you’re a line drawn between two separate places, an isohel, sun lighting up your world for the same sweep of the clock even for how far apart you are. Sharing that same, tenuous thing, for all your contrasting parts.)

(This thing that’s growing, held in your hands. This soft, gentle thing, shimmering, frail, unfurling slowly but undeniably. Tinged with happiness, disbelief. Disbelief that you’ve found this, that you can see Jungkook across the echoing cavern of the Shatterdome’s main hall, so far in the distance, barely visible at the foot of his Jaeger—and something will settle in your chest. Featherlight, iridescent. Something comforting.)

When you fight the kaiju, now, it’s with a deeper reserve of desperation. Taehyung and Jungkook aren’t just fellow pilots, dongsaeng that you’re obliged to look after: they’re your friends, something more than that too, part of the rare handful of people in the world who understand, this overwhelming pressure to fight and win and protect the things you love. The people you love. They understand what it’s like to step into someone else’s head, to be connected to that person on a level that’s unfathomable, anchored in a depth of love that’s endless. You’re their aegis, now, their shield.

(Jungkook’s shield.)

Maybe that’s what’s to blame. Maybe that’s why you’re so sloppy, this time. Maybe that’s why you throw yourselves in the way of the blow that was meant for Bulletproof Striker. Maybe that’s why Ojousan shreds Cypher Zero’s chest apart, her head, why Yoongi is almost ripped from you, his fear and pain screaming through your neural connection. You feel everything he feels and more beside, your heart hammering in your throat as you scream, Jaeger’s arm swinging up and around in tandem with your own motions as you try to rip the kaiju away, anything to protect Yoongi, so scared of losing him, always always always, scared of being left alone.

But you’re not alone.

Bulletproof Striker lifts up like an avenging angel. Her horns roar a challenge, an echoing battle cry as the younger pilots move in. Heavier and stronger, keeping her balance even in the turbulence of a fight, she takes the hits, gives back her own, sends the kaiju down into the crashing waves, waits for it to rise. But the monster is crafty and quick and even as you’re lifting your left arm—Yoongi’s hurt, so hurt, you know this, feel this, but he moves with you to ready the plasma cannon buried in the mechanics of your Jaeger’s hand, even if he’s keening with pain—you watch as the other pilots, too, fall victim to the clawed tail of the kaiju, screeching through layers of alloys and across their Conn-Pod.

Terror strikes through every part of you and morphs into hate. You hate the kaiju, hate your own weakness, hate the pain that’s been saved from being written into your own body while Yoongi screams and sobs even though he still fights. Your motions are anguished and desperate as you battle to overcome this beast that’s almost taken away everything that matters to you—and Cypher Zero, Yoongi, as damaged and hurt as they are, come through. (Like they always do, for you, always.)

And somehow, despite everything, for all the self-hatred and pain and fear, you pull through. You pull through. Damaged and hurt but alive.

Barely.

Barely alive.

(One hand gives, the other takes away.)

It takes hours for them to pick Yoongi’s Drivesuit from his body, crumpled around him from Ojousan’s claws, cutting into the soft flesh of his body, body ruined further by the fighting he’d been forced into despite his injuries; so many of Taehyung’s bones are shattered, and when you finally see him awake and with his eyes open, there are burst blood vessels that cast red across the usually warm expression, his friendly eyes.

You should be grateful that they’re alive. You should be on your hands and knees, weeping, benedictions dripping from your graceless mouth as you thank whatever merciless God above decided to turn their gaze on you and grant you this leniency. So many pilots have died and will continue to die, you know this, but somehow your partners are still alive.

And you are grateful. You are. But there’s bitterness on your tongue, twisted across your palate, sour and acrid and filling you with its taste. You’d been foolish and reckless and you’d almost lost the things you cared about most, even if you’d destroyed the kaiju, torn it apart and left its fluorescent indigo blood to corrode the ocean.

That’s what’s important, isn’t it. Saving humanity. One person, two people, four people—you’re the tiniest cogs in a whirring engine of billions. Unimportant. Just a spinning part that keeps the machine going.

When you’re not with Yoongi or Taehyung, an unmoving presence from their hospital beds, a hovering gargoyle carved from stone, you’re with Jungkook. Always, always, always. Somehow you’d both escaped without the injuries inflicted on your partners—you’d manage to break your little finger, and Jungkook had a black eye and a twisted ankle, and the both of you had mottles of bruises cast across your skin, pulled muscles, an ache carved into your bones, but that was it. That was it. It was almost laughable, how unscathed you are.

You hate it.

(It should have been you.)

Your legs—unbroken, unharmed—hang over steel scaffolding, motionless as you watch the tiny specks of people scuttling across the catwalks that criss-cross Cypher Zero’s body. You can see under her skin, damage peeling back all the layers of metal that should be holding her together. Endless showers of sparks fall and scatter as she’s stitched back together. Your beautiful girl is so damaged, so disfigured.

(You’d caught Yoongi as he’d fallen from the harness, listened to the horrible noises that had torn out of his lips as he’d dripped blood and pain over your shaking hands.)

The bland food you’d scraped off your dinner tray settles fitfully in your stomach, still one second, nausea bubbling up your throat the next.

It’s one of the rare times you’ve been alone, since… since everything. You’ve been taking comfort in Jungkook’s presence, unwavering and understated, needing someone there when staring at Yoongi’s battered face proved too much. Even with his own upheaval Jungkook’s been there, at your side, always close. Eyes locked on you and taking everything in, the tired set to your face, the expression that tugs down your lips, and still, he stays.

But he’d disappeared after you’d eaten, a peculiar look on his face—you know him well enough now to recognise that look, that it means he’s got something in his head, some plan he means to unfold. It’s the first time you’ve seen it since Taehyung had been pulled out of the Conn-Pod. It’s some semblance of normality, an expression of something other than pale-faced dread and bone-shivering guilt.

(You feel it too, that survivor’s guilt. Taehyung and Yoongi will recover but it’ll take time and so much suffering and you wish you could take that from them, heft that burden onto your own shoulders.)

(You know Jungkook feels the same.)

(You see it written in the tense lines of his body. Hear it unspoken in the words he shares with you. The bruises on his skin melt from red to purple to blue to yellow, but even if his body heals, his brain and heart bear the scars of helplessness.)

Jungkook reappears, finds you at the heavy steel door that leads into your room, rusted and worn but silent as it swings open in front of you. His eyes are wide and he’s breathless, like he’s been running, chest heaving as he sucks in air through his parted lips, a flash of teeth and tongue as he smiles.

Despite everything, you smile back. Helpless for that smile, always, happier now for the sight of it, for how little you’ve seen it. You want to see that smile every day. You don’t want him to worry for anything. You want him to feel the same way you do, when you see him: that quiet, maybe selfish thought that things are okay.

Maybe he does. (His eyes are so warm.) He presses something into your hands, something soft and round like a well-practised secret, and then he’s gone. You can tell by the gait of his stride that he’s going back to Taehyung, giving you a moment of lonely reprieve to wash the grime and dirt off your useless body before you follow in his footsteps, stationed at Yoongi’s side.

The door swings shut behind you.

You lift your hand.

It’s an orange.

It’s a small, overripe thing, hard nub of the stem falling away from the skin with only the lightest brush of your fingers. You stare at the fruit, its brightness cutting through the muted sepia tones of your surroundings, a point of colour in an otherwise dull room.

You haven’t seen an orange in months. Rationing is tough on everyone, even Jaeger pilots. You’d mentioned in passing, so long ago, an old habit of yours. Before something else floated above it, more important and interesting, you’d made a fleeting statement that had flitted across the surface of the conversation: you liked eating oranges in the shower. Liked that nice, cool citrus sweetness in your mouth while the rest of your body was caught in the fall of warm water.

It’s such a small, tiny thing. Just the briefest lament—there are more important things than the fact you can’t have shower oranges any more, after all—and you’d forgotten you’d even mentioned it.

But Jungkook hadn’t.

It’s almost syrupy sweet, this orange. You savour each slice, pressing them between your teeth, feeling the rush of juice burst forth through the pith and skin, and it’s so good you could cry.

You do cry.

Your mouth is full of orange and your eyes are full of tears and your head is full of—of—something, something so all encompassing that it overwhelms you, water cascading down the aching planes of your body as you crumple inwards. Jungkook had protected you with the overwhelming power of Bulletproof Striker, and he’s protecting you now, soft and considerate and kind, vulnerable and human. Stripped of tons of metal and technology, Jungkook wears his beating heart on his sleeve and is none the weaker for it.

This seemingly small thing means so much, so so so much. You understand him, and he understands you too, knows that this gesture is indicative of support and care and nurturing, a tiny fragment of peace he can offer you in the tumult of everything out of your control.

A tiny fragment of peace that’s part of a greater whole, all the things that Jungkook gives to you.

When the Marshalls gather you and tell you the plan going forwards, you’re unsurprised.

It makes sense, of course. Four pilots down to two still leaves a pair, and Bulletproof Striker is nearly functional even if Cypher Zero will stay out of commission while she’s rebuilt. Simple maths. One Jaeger, two pilots. You and Jungkook.

You’re scared.

You know you’re Drift compatible. Every fight in the Kwoon Combat Room is evidence enough of that. A dialogue, each challenge is meant to be a dialogue to show physical compatibility, and it is: there’s perfect sync in how you each move to strike, even if your motions are so different, muscles burning and breaths coming faster each time you attack, parry, strike, block. It’s not about winning or losing. It’s a conversation, one that you and Jungkook fall into without thought.

And he would be the perfect partner. That much isn’t in doubt. Loyal and open and strong, honourable and brave and kind—and you know him, have grown to learn so much about this golden boy, this bright, brilliant boy. He’s fucking indomitable and anyone would be lucky to find themselves in the same Jaeger as Jeon Jungkook.

But there are no secrets in the Drift.

To let someone in, you have to trust them. And you do, you do trust Jungkook, probably far more than makes sense, some unspoken thing between you burning like a wildfire. But while you trust him, confident in his strength and his heart, you trust yourself less.

You’ll be flayed open, naked and defenceless. He’ll see right to the core of you, every dirty corner of your crumpled soul, every shameful part of your foundations, uneven brickwork layered into your shaky temperament; strong one second, weak the next. He’ll see that you’re hard inside, too, biting and acidic right down to your shrivelled heart. This nascent thing that you’ve been building with Jungkook, been keeping safe in the cradle of your careful hands, will sputter out and die.

“Baby.”

Yoongi’s voice is comforting, a familiar rumble that rolls through your ears as you rest your head in his lap.

“And I mean that you’re literally being a baby,” he continues, and you curl your lip back from your teeth in a small snarl, menacing.

Yoongi just continues to thread his hands through your hair.

You’ve Drifted with Yoongi often and long enough to know how every thread of thought unspools in that skull of his. You know he has every confidence in the unshakeable pillar of your soul. He’s a brother to you, a connection that thrums deep in your veins even without the intimacy of the Drift, and the love you hold for him is undying and true.

But whatever you have with Jungkook is so timorous in the face of that.

“It’s different.” Yoongi looks down at the twist of your face. You know his thoughts and he knows yours too, your face and heart an open book to him. “But different isn’t bad.”

You keep your mouth shut, keep the words swallowed down in your throat, shoved down to the pit of your stomach. Keep it secret. Keep it safe.

“Baby,” he says again, softer, lower. This time, you know it’s an endearment.

At the end of the day, no matter what fear grips cold and endless at your insides, you’ll do it. You’ll Drift with Jungkook. You’ll throw everything you have into the pyre, watch it burn and turn to ash, if it means you can keep everyone safe. To save Yoongi, Taehyung, Jungkook—you’ll open yourself up to the mortifying ordeal of opening up, laying yourself bare. You have to.

It’s chaotic, anyway. The day that your practice Drift is scheduled is the day the next kaiju rises out of the breach, that dreaded rift between our world and theirs, because why would you be allowed to breathe, even for a second?

It’s a scramble into the cockpit. There’s no time for trial runs or test Drifts. You fly or you fall. Everyone’s in a state of orderly upheaval as you’re suited up and left to stride forwards into a Conn-Pod that isn’t yours, in a Jaeger that isn’t yours.

(Left to stride forwards to stand next to someone who isn’t yours.)

Your Drivesuit is grey. Jungkook’s is white. There’s a subtle hologramatic sheen laid across the planes of his armour, leaving him a multicoloured vision that shines out under the flicker of the cockpit’s endless tiny buttons and lights. Your own suit is a matte, gunmetal with accents of burning scarlet, far more battered and worn. Dark and wild in the face of Jungkook’s radiance. He’s the perfect answer to the kaiju invasion. You, though, feel like an interloper in a space that wasn’t designed for you, this circle room that’s been home to Jungkook and his true, real partner.

But he’s looking at you like there’s no one else he’d rather have by his side.

He doesn’t care that everything about this moment just cements how he’s too good for you in every conceivable way, elevated above you. Doesn’t care that you’re just a temporary stop gap. There’s trepidation, of course, skittering nerves that dance across his face for this first Drift, surrounded by all the commotion that’s swallowing the world up outside the cockpit. But there’s also that fire in his eyes, one you’ve learned to expect: Jungkook is a wildfire and will surmount any obstacle in a blaze of white-hot light.

And he wants you along for the ride.

(Burns bright for it.)

“You ready?” He asks, and the tiny tremor in his words takes you off guard even as it soothes a balm over the rash of apprehension that prickles across your skin.

(Because he’s nervous, too.)

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you answer, truly.

His eyes crinkle into a smile, crescents of happiness as his lip peels back from his teeth. It should be jarring, seeing his sweet bunny smile in the pit of a Jaeger, so at odds with the military polycarbonate that girds his body with protection, the masculine edges of his face—but it’s not. The world is just a backdrop to Jeon Jungkook, dropping away as you fall into his eyes, twinkling stars of brightness and warmth that hold you safe, even now.

Peace and contentment steals over you. You’re almost shocked by it, the way your own face softens into a smile, the rising beat of your heart. Every ragged messy edge in you is smoothed over by Jungkook’s presence and you glow for him.

When the Conn-Pod drops, there’s the familiar weightlessness, the sway of your body in the harness as you fall. Anticipation roils through you as Bulletproof Striker’s head locks into place, whirring mechanisms securing you to nearly 2000 tons of metal, so much heavier than your own Jaeger. You’ve taken Jungkook’s usual place and he’s taken Taehyung’s, the right hemisphere, the dominant pilot, familiar with this machine in a way you’re not.

Not yet, at least.

“We’ve got this.”

Jungkook’s voice cuts through the noise, the AI talking at you, a narration of events you’ve long grown used to. You turn your head to look at him. He’s already looking at you, intent and sincere. Like always.

“Yeah,” you say. “Yeah, we have.”

There’s no point being afraid. In a few seconds, Jungkook will be in your head, washing over every part of you—and you’ll be in his, pressing your ethereal touch into every facet that comes together to make Jeon Jungkook who he is.

Seconds pass. There’s a little hitch in his breath, a stiffness to his limbs, and he shuts his eyes. You breathe in deep, deep, deep, sucking in a harsh breath into your greedy lungs—

—the timer hits zero—

—and then the Drift slams into you all at once, all encompassing and consuming, threading your minds together.

(Drifting with Yoongi is easy, the familiarity of coming home after so much time away.)

(But this?)

(This is throwing yourself into a cold lake on a hot summer’s day, bracing and refreshing and breath-stealing all at once, shocking life into every one of your limbs, so sharp and fast you’re scared you might drown before you breach the surface, water holding onto you and not letting you go. This is driving reckless and fast down empty roads, watching the world pass you in a blur, laughing in delight at the pleasure of it all. This is scaling a cliffside with nothing but your own hands and determination, digging your fingers into the unyielding rock, pulling yourself up-up-up, never letting yourself fall.)

(This is having Jungkook beside you. This is having Jungkook diving into the lake with all the grace of an Olympian before he rises to the surface, tosses his hair carelessly out of his face, and spits a mouthful of water at you with laughter in his eyes. This is having Jungkook behind the driver’s wheel, shifting gears without thought, looking away from the road to watch the way your hair dances in the wind. This is having Jungkook climbing beside you, waiting for you at the top, holding a hand out to pull you up and over so you can sprawl out beside him, exhausted and exuberant at the top of this mountain, basking in the sun with Jungkook just a hair’s breadth away from you.)

(He takes one look at you. He takes one look at all the dark of your memories, the cascading mess of your insides, the hidden things that are open to him in the Drift, cut open and peeled back for his gaze—and he doesn’t look away.)

(He sees everything, past skin and muscle and bone and nerves, even deeper, right into your heart—)

(—all the torrents that eddy the deep waters of your soul—)

(—and he doesn’t look away.)

(He doesn’t look away.)

(Can’t look away.)

(Doesn’t want to.)

(Never wants to.)

(Jeon Jungkook takes one look at you, your whole being, and he knows you.)

(And he doesn’t want you any less.)

It’s just a second, a flicker, a breath, this first connection in this Drift, falling into each other. But it’s also a lifetime, two lifetimes, four lifetimes; your memories, Jungkook’s memories, Yoongi’s memories in yours, Taehyung’s memories in Jungkook’s. Layers and layers and years and years piled over one another, a tumbling sprawl—but it’s easy. It’s easy, so easy, Jungkook seeing you, you seeing him, everything he is, everything you are, everything you are to each other, with each other, for each other. The important things. The things you need to know to navigate this together, in sync even before now, reading each other to a level neither had even realised.

And when you’ve killed the kaiju. When you’ve walked Bulletproof Striker back to shore, brought her back to the Shatterdome, back home, it doesn’t end. You lift out of the Drift, step out of your Drivesuits, as different as they are (as different as you are), and it doesn’t end.

Jungkook’s eyes linger, as heavy as a physical touch, and even as congratulations for a successful drop are bandied about you, he doesn’t leave your side. He keeps his hand against yours—not intertwined, but brushing, the curl of his fingers against your own. Touching. You’re not the protector here. He’s protecting you, in a way that doesn’t leave you feeling inferior or weak. You feel soft and warm and small and safe, pulled inexorably towards him, supported, buoyed up, and you don’t feel selfish for it.

Because he wants this.

He wants to be your comfort and your support.

He doesn’t want it to end.

(You don’t want it to end.)

And when you finally break away from those crowds, released from the shackles of responsibility and expectation—when you’re finally left alone, the two of you with each other, there’s no hesitation when you come together.

He lays you out beneath him and has you sobbing, back arching into the pleasure he draws out of your body, playing you like a maestro. Because he knows you, after all. He knows exactly how to trail his lips across your skin, your neck and stomach and thighs, painting marks across your body like it’s his personal canvas. He knows exactly how to have you twisting underneath him, how to pull those pretty sounds from your lips, fucking you with his fingers and his tongue until you’re a shaking mess. He kisses you sweet, merciless, letting you claw at his skin as you beg for more, more more more, wanting it, needing it, wanting him, needing him.

And you know he’ll give it to you. He’ll give himself to you, give you everything you ask for. You know how he wants to see you fall apart and you know how to move your body to have him gritting his teeth and staring in awe. You know how desperate he is to worship you, to show you his adoration and reverence, and you open up for him, unfurl like a flower, dripping nectar. When he finally presses into you, hot and long and thick, it’s so good you could cry. You draw him in-in-in, into your body and arms and heart, pressing your lips to the sweat at his brow, the taste of skin and salt and Jungkook bursting across your tongue.

There’s no Drift here, no curl of memories and unspoken thoughts between you. It’s physical and human, the crash of your bodies against each other, skin on skin, the thrust of his cock pressing into the dripping folds of your cunt. It’s the other half of that connection, the final piece, this thing you have with Jungkook, this perfect balance you have with him. It sears itself across your body and into your soul: it’s pleasure and passion and devotion carved into each touch of your lips and fingers, each roll of your hips, each time Jungkook makes you cum, gasping for him.

When he’s finally come apart inside you, spilling into your willing heat as you shake beneath him, arms and legs wrapped around his body as you pull him as close as you can, unwilling to let go—it still doesn’t end. You’re so wrapped up in Jungkook, in his arms, his heart, and you know he won’t let you go, either. He presses his lips against yours, chases those kisses, quiet and chaste to open-mouthed and dirty as the mood takes you, and then Jungkook rolls over you again, a spark in his eyes as he decides he’s still hungry for you.

You know, now, that all that time ago, when you carved that space for him into your chest, he’d done the same for you. He’d laid his heart at your feet and waited there, kneeling, for you to accept it, patient and willing. Staring at you with all the deep love you never thought you deserved, never thought you’d receive. But here he is. Here he is, love burning in his dark brown eyes. Eyes that have seen all the damaged, aching parts of you and love you anyway.

“I’m yours.”

Jungkook shines so bright at your words, a supernova of joy. His smile is so wide and his gaze is so soft, for you, for you, for you.

“Everything I am is for you,” he murmurs, letting the words curl into the air, settle across your skin, sink deep inside your chest. Your eyes flutter shut as you feel this touch of him inside you, wrapped around your heart.

And when you lift your hands, he comes so easily. He presses his cheek into the curve of your fingers, lets you hold him, lets you cup those lovely cheeks in your palms.

“I love you,” he says.

Right now, in this instant, there’s nothing but him. No kaiju, no Jaegers, no crumbling world, nothing. There’s only him, and you, together.

“I love you too,” you reply—and when you smile, gentle and tender, Jungkook falls in love all over again.

Burns bright for you.

1K notes · View notes

luckyasfuck · 3 years

Text

maybe i just wanna be yours [k. bakugou]

A CAMBOY AU SERIES - PARTS 1, 2, [3], 4, 5

pairing // katsuki x female reader

tw // cussing, smut

warnings for this part // (kinda?) mutual masturbation

theme // enemies to lovers au, camboy!katsu au, college student!katsu and reader au, no quirk au

keys // y/n, l/n, h/c

words // 1.8k

a/n // pt. 4 will be written at 100 likes and posted at 5-10 reblogs :). i’m glad ya’ll are enjoying it, send criticism and/or ideas in my inbox.

previous part I masterlist

y/n’s head was no longer cloudy.

it scared her at first, her twitter username and bio must have gave it all away. part of her hoped that katsuki wouldn’t notice the notification, and if he did, well she hopes he’d be too dumb or oblivious to know it was her. but of course, bakugou fucking katsuki wasn’t like that. y/n would know, especially when she woke up him following her back.

fucking son of a bitch.

it was very obvious that it was katsuki. from his voice during lives to his demeanor with his posts: reserved. it was a bitch to think about, no matter what y/n did it was all that occupied her mind. she was aware of the comments she had left on his last live, her other hand too busy pumping her fingers in and out of her pussy to make more than two. that’s what bothered her. not only did she get off to her rival of all people, she did it twice. twice!

she thought about it the whole morning as she reached UA. a person came from behind and bumped her shoulder, rushing to the group of people crowding the main gate. y/n knotted her eyebrows, her mind was too all over the place to know what they could have been fussing about.

the crowd completely blocked the gate and she sighed, opting to take another route until someone grabbed her arm. thinking it was a teacher or a student, she turned around with a smile.

what the fuck.

katsuki stood there gripping her arm and her heart dropped. she yanks his hand away and glared at him, goddamn if looks could kill katsuki would’ve made it to heaven right about now. she stared at him with so much intensity, it almost looked like she was gonna go crazy over the fact that he stopped her, let alone even touch her.

fuck, that’s hot. katsuki gulped and mentally slapped himself after the thought. “don’t let the teachers see you-” he whispered, looking around. y/n sighed, “too late.” she looked behind him where their Biology professor stood with a smile.

“good morning, kids! i’m glad i found you two together, which is um... quite new, don’t you think?” the old woman greeted. katsuki rolled his eyes before facing her, standing beside y/n.

the h/c-haired girl didn’t like being near him at all, he had this weird aura and she didn’t know what his intentions were at all. and him approaching her for the first time without being forced by a professor after the shenanigans of last night? way too timed to be a coincidence, though she wishes it was.

“if you don’t know yet, our school’s competing with others schools with this little competition our school made.” the old woman got straight to the point. “the competition is that weekly for this month, a duo would take a quiz on a specific subject together. the subject changes every week and the questions get harder and harder! the 5 duos with the lowest scores are eliminated. it’s said on the board right there!” she pointed to where the students crowded.

“um, okay...? why are you telling us this then?” y/n questioned, adjusting her grip on her bag as the professor smiled again whilst katsuki breathed out a loud sigh.

“i want you both to be the duo that represents our school!”

“miss-” katsuki started, but got cut off. “don’t you think we’re the worst duo for this? i mean,” y/n laughed sarcastically. “you know we hate each other, everyone fucking knows tha-”

“language, miss l/n.” the professor’s sternly scolded and y/n flinches a bit at the change of mood. “yes, ma’am.” the younger girl looked down on her shoes. “i think it’s a good opportunity for the two of you,” the old woman pointed to the two students. “to get along. you two are really gifted, and i don’t want our school to lose this or get humiliated just because you two have beef with each other for reasons unknown.”

y/n was sweating under her jacket and she gulped as the woman walked away, letting them know her decision was final. katsuki breathed out a deep sigh, face-palming. “what are we gonna do now? knowing that bitch, she’ll tell everyone we said yes.”

y/n didn’t bother to argue with the blonde, she knew he was right. the crowd near the gate starts to disappear and she leaves without responding to katsuki. she doesn’t know where the fuck he got the confidence to talk to her so casually. more like she wished she didn’t know.

she knew that he knew.

and he knew that she knew too.

so simple yet so complicated.

class dragged out and y/n hasn’t spared a single glance at katsuki. she’s done this almost everyday since she met him, so it was easy to do. if only he’d stop staring into her soul, knowing she can see him in the corner of her eye.

katsuki’s always liked to stare, though he had nothing to stare at. and now he does, even he doesn’t like how much he’s staring. he’d snap out of it, curse himself and y/n too while he’s at it, then get caught in a daze while staring at her again.

multiple teachers approached them and individually asked them about the competition, their answers were the same the whole time, a bland “yeah, we’re competing as the duo.”

the students sat in their last class, blabbering around and not caring anymore. it was the last class, after all. they were tired and wanted to go home, but of course, they can’t. at least not yet. y/n didn’t feel like listening, she was tired too. doodling in her notebook, her heart drops when the professor calls her name. fuck, i don’t know the answe-

“oh. and mister bakugou too. i think it’s for the competition, the principal wants you two.” the old male lets out an intrigued hum. “don’t you guys hate each other?” y/n and katsuki walked out the room silently, filling the room with embarrassment on the professors side.

the female walked on the other end of the corridor, she didn’t like katsuki at all. his mere presence makes her gag, and she knows it’s the same for him too. that’s why they opted to stay as far away from each other as possible.

the ash blonde walks into the principal’s office with y/n hot on his trail. “take a seat.” the principal said, not looking up from his paperwork. “listen, you two. i heard a lot from teachers about how you compete with each other, but the both of you are the smartest duo here. all i want is for you two to study together and pass the quizzes as best as you can. you don’t even have to get along! and your grades will be perfect A+’s for the whole month, and if you win, maybe i’ll extend to a month more.”

y/n and katsuki’s eyes widened at the offer, it was so tempting. and education always came first before pride anyway. “fine, i’ll do it.” y/n was the first to speak while katsuki just nodded his head.

“it’s settled then.”

[ timeskip ]

y/n plopped down on her bed. the two of them got sent home early and were forced to share socials with each other. they were also granted permission to use the library whenever they wanted, and were given the schedule to study together from their last two classes until whenever they liked. and before going their separate ways, she told katsuki to text her a plan if he had one.

her phone dings and she automatically assumed it was him. and it was. just... a little more lewd. definitely not what she was expecting.

y/n cussed, “since when the fuck did i let this stupid fucking site give me notifications?” katsuki’s heavy breathing and occasional grunts boomed through her speaker and she hurried to click off it, until her eyes landed on his cock.

from what seemed like it, he had already cum once, the white liquid dripping from his slit down his lenght. y/n can’t seem to tear her eyes from the way he stroked his cock, so gentle yet so rushed, so... satisfying.

she shakes her head and kicks herself out of her absurd train of thoughts, thumb hovering over the ‘X’ on the top left of the site. “have you joined the live, pretty face?” she flinches when she heard his raspy voice, thighs unconciously rubbing together and panties already soaked.

“i hope you have, fuck. been thinking about you all day, mhmm~ why don’t you drop your little comments for me?” she could practically hear the smirk in his words, and it irritated her. but fuck, if he wasn’t so attractive. his perfectly sculpted body, his voice, and that pretty cock. it was that fucking cock.

“are you touching yourself, pretty face? you better. this live’s all for you.” katsuki moaned out, stroking himself faster. y/n watched as the chat went crazy, all of them confessing their sins to him like he was some sort of God.

and maybe he was, cause she found herself running a finger through her wet folds as she watched the camboy play with his tip. she shoves a finger inside, moaning with him before moving in and out parallel to his strokes.

katsuki comes again, his strokes coming to a half. he pants before smirking, “pretty face, lookie here.” he shows a fleshlight to the camera, his tip prodding at the toys entrance. y/n slowly adds another finger as he sunk the toy down onto his cock, both of them moaning.

they both fuck themselves into oblivion while thinking of each other, katsuki’s hips violently fucking into the toy as he hissed, “fuck, i bet your pussy feels a lot better.” y/n felt her cunt clench around her finger at the statement as she started to rub her clit as well.

she orgasms a little bit before katsuki shot his load into the toy, both their movements halting as they tried to catch their breath. she types in a comment before finally exiting the site, feeling slightly disgusted of what she just did. she shudders and opts on taking a shower before napping.

“you dirty little thing.”

katsuki felt his cock twitch at y/n’s comment. he ended the live right after, knowing she probably left already. the notifications for money he hoarded sat heavy on his account and he smiled, cleaning himself up after. the image of her with her legs open, her fingers buried deep in her cunt and her moaning uncontrollably was all that filled katsuki’s brain.

and he fucking hates it. he hates how much power the desires of his cock had over him when he was horny.

and the only desire his cock had was her.

next part I masterlist

taglist:

@princesspeach-00 @tamakisropebunny @bakugous-mamas @ll379333 @j1-914 @gazelle-des-pres @trashpandainahat @dickinson-67 @victoriaestein @amelie-chan @your-worst-obsession [ cannot tag last two ]

#bakugou smut #katsuki smut #mha #mha smut #bakusquad smut #bnha smut #class 1-a smut #bakugou katsuki smut #bakugou imagines #katsuki imagines #bakugo smut #bakugo katsuki smut

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mooncademia · 4 years

Text

Caught in Love

PAIRING ~ Aizawa x reader

GENRE ~ fluff

SUMMARY ~ After getting a job offer at U.A, your love life w/ Aizawa has officially transferred to school. And you loved it.

But wait...something is different about Class 1-A homeroom teacher! And it has definitely caught a few suspicious eyes.. who may or may not have an idea up their sleeves to satisfy their burning curiosity.

First day working at U.A, you realized that you didn’t have to wake up at your usual morning alarm at 5:30 a.m.

Ah yes, the pro hero days of waking up super early, going to the agency, giving Aizawa (who continued to sleep beside you) a peck on his cheek before you left were now over.

And instead, you were introduced to a new routine.

A fresh one.

However, things weren’t going to change that fast, after all, you’ve been pro-hero for years! And your sleep cycle has stuck to your 5:30 a.m alarm and Aizawa, your husband, did not appreciate that.

“We are going to work, together!” You squealed as you flung open the blankets that covered you and Aizawa. You hopped out of bed and shook his shoulder, making Aizawa mumble a groan.

You kissed his cheek passionately and ruffled his messy raven-black hair a little bit.

“Come on,” you said. “Wake up, I’m going to make some coffee.”

Aizawa turned to the side to peek at the clock on the bed side table. He let out another groan when he saw the three digits.

“Y/N, it’s literally 5:34 a.m. You just need to be at U.A at 8 and we don’t live that far.”

“Yeah, well,” you said with an exciting smile. “You can never be too prepared!”

You scurried out of the room and turned on your coffee machine in the kitchen. Aizawa turned around and saw his bedroom now empty. His wrinkled long black sleeve was bunched up to his waist and he frowned as he got up this early for the first time in months. You knew your husband was a rationally-driven man, sometimes a lone cat who prefers privacy and waking up a lot later. But what you didn’t know was that when Principal Nezu asked him if his wife could teach at U.A after All Might retired, he was thrilled.

So despite it being before 6 a.m, his excitement was bubbling over that it made him finally leave the bed.

But of course, he had to play it cool. With rational excuses, right?!

“Well, I guess I do have to review the school schedule with you,” he mumbled as he palmed the back of his neck and walked out of the bedroom.

When you saw your husband slumping down on the dining chair with his half-lidded eyes, your heart immediately flipped and you poured a nice cup of hot coffee for him.

You knew him well enough that he didn’t wake up this early in the morning for no reason. You set the cup on the table and leaned down to give him a peck on the corner of his lips as a gesture of gratitude.

But at the very last second of pulling away, Aizawa got the best of you and wrapped your waist with his strong arms, causing you to sit down on his lap—santa lap style.

He hugged you warmly and you slung your arms around his neck. Aizawa snuggled his head between your neck and shoulder and sighed blissfully with his eyes closed. You laughed with your head tilted slightly back.

Yeah, he definitely was not a morning person.

After much time of Aizawa discussing you about the school system for the millionth time during breakfast and almost having a mental breakdown of whether or not you could actually teach (we all have those moments, right?), you were on your way to U.A.

And it really took your breath away.

The school was located on the top hill in Musutafu with the whole neighborhood revolving around it. Glass windows seemed to reach the sky and when you realized how freakin’ big the campus actually was, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the building, not even a second.

But that wasn’t the best thing of all.

Because the best thing was having to walk to work with your favorite (and sometimes most annoying, but you love him nonetheless) person beside you. It was like having your best friend as a partner for your science project in high school. Ease poured over you as you found it quite pleasant to have a strong arm to lean delightedly upon, a familiar face that peers down at you with a gentle smile, and a reassuring voice to tell you that things will be okay.

It was still an hour before class but you and Aizawa were—of course—there early.

The two of you were walking down the halls. Sooner or later you’ll have to let go of your arm that was crossed with Aizawa’s before entering the teacher’s office because one thing that you both agreed upon was to keep the relationship low-key. No one knew that Aizawa’s wife was going to be the new teacher at U.A except for some of the faculty and of course…Hizashi Yamada, aka: the loudest person in the world in Shouta’s opinion.

“Y/N!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Present Mic shouted when he saw you step into the teacher’s office. His blonde hair that was religiously shifted upward was too iconic to not be noticed from far away. You giggled at the sight as he threw his arm around his best friend, Aizawa, poking him teasingly on the shoulder. You were great friends with Hizashi and in fact, he was the one who introduced you to Aizawa in the first place.

“Oi, Eraserhead, you’re so lucky your wife goes to work with you,” Hizashi teasingly snickered with his arm still slung around Shouta’s neck. Aizawa tried to shrug him off but it only made him tighten his grip. “So they managed to get Y/N to teach here but they haven’t even implemented my great idea?!”

“Please no, Mic.” Aizawa groaned, trying again to pull away from Hizashi’s grip.

You sat down your bag. “What’s your ‘idea?’ ”

Hizashi let go of Aizawa’s neck and casually slung his arm around yours, making you giggle in surprise.

“Well of course it’s my HERO FM radio! Every Friday from 1:00-5:00 p.m!” He announced proudly (or more like promoting) making you laugh even more as Aizawa facepalmed himself. “I told the staff that they should let me add one more day, you know, because of my great increasing popularity! But they said one day a week is already “enough,” he said letting go of you to make air quotes with a disgusted expression on his face.

“Get to work Mic,” Aizawa called as he headed towards his desk to gather up some assignments for his morning class.

Hizashi winked at you before he trotted off, throwing you a thumbs-up sign. “Get ready for some ‘strict Aizawa-sensei.’ One day during U.A fest, I wanted to hear Class 1-A perform but Aizawa kept on saying that I should be on patrol duty—“

“Which you should’ve. It was your shift.” Aizawa interrupted bluntly.

“But I just wanted an INSEY WINCEY listen!!” Hizashi stomped on his feet childishly which made Aizawa roll his eyes and let out a sigh.

You went to your husband and stood on your tippy-toes to land a small peck on his cheek. Aizawa blushed at your move because of the fact that you two were in a semi-public place, but he didn’t complain at all.

“Oh, don’t worry.” You seductively caressed his shoulder and gave him a charming smile as you leaned in deadly closer to his face with your hips arched a bit. “I can’t wait to see… what Aizawa-sensei is like.”

Your tone was silky smooth and you rolled out the last word so slowly that it made Aizawa’s mouth part open just a bit. He stared at you dumbfoundedly. Your eyes flickered down to his lips and he swallowed a gulp. He felt like Cupid just shot his heart and he was totally falling for you once again because the fact that you called him ‘sensei’ totally did not make his stomach or heart heat up.

Yeah…he really was goddamn lucky to have you work at U.A alongside him.

———

“Overall, ‘Plus Ultra’ doesn’t always necessarily means you need to exceed your limits physically. But it also means mentally. It’s how your brain exercises to solve complex situations. What are your strategies like? Are you saving those who need saving in quick time while doing minimal damage to your surroundings? I hope next week’s practice can allow you to exercise these brain muscles of yours that I reviewed today because listening to your thoughts and being mentally stable/prepared is more important than how powerful your quirk is. Listen to that hero gut instinct of yours, because at the end, especially in dearest times… it’s going to help you immensely.” You finished with an encouraging smile that made the class almost want to clap at your amazing class. You were glad to see their engaging faces and raising their hands when they had a question.

Class 1-A was truly remarkable. Though, the only student that left you curiously wondering about was the small boy with purple balls on his head because he seemed to be staring at you so intensely that you swore his eyes were bugging out of their sockets.

Aizawa bowed at you when you finished and you gave him a smirk.

The class began to exchange small chats as you bowed back to Aizawa.

“Wow, I think this teacher is really good! She’s so pretty and smart!” Ashido excitedly whispered to Tsuyu behind her with her eyes widened.

“That’s pro-hero for you,” Kaminari added with his index finger and thumb pointed high up. “Plus, she even made Aizawa-sensei stand there awake the whole entire time listening.”

Some of the classmates nodded eagerly in return, truly astounded that their homeroom teacher did not retreat to his traditional yellow sleeping bag that he usually does.

“Thank you L/N-sensei,” Aizawa said, popping the class back to the board ahead. You bowed at him in return, but before you headed out, you saw Aizawa gave you the tiniest nod and wait…was that a smile creeping on his lips?!

You exhaled silently in relief. You have been so nervous and worried about teaching at U.A. When Principal Nezu offered you the position, you were shocked to even know that he had you on his mind. You previously thought that Aizawa proposed the option but that guess was quickly diminished when he told you that he had nothing to do with it.

You were just a pro-hero doing your job and when the amazing opportunity arose, you immediately accepted it, knowing that you deeply wanted to help students find their way to hero-life.

And Aizawa knew you had been nervous about U.A since accepting the offer. You have stayed up countless nights just reviewing paperwork, going over the school schedule many times, and even looking through practice exams from the past, thinking about what further lessons you can teach to these students.

You folded your lips and returned a small nod, eyes twinkling as you slid the door to head out.

The class truly captured the small moment you and Aizawa had, but then all shrugged away when they heard their homeroom teacher begin handing out today’s assignments.

As you trotted away from the class back to the main office, you smiled at yourself as you hugged your folders tighter to your chest.

Hm… I could definitely get used to this.

———

Days seemed to go by faster than you had expected.

Wake up (sometimes not that early anymore thanks to Aizawa hugging you down even after your 5:30 alarm rings), enjoy breakfast, head to U.A, teach, and then go back home with Aizawa (when everyone else is —of course— away).

You’ve had your ups and downs at U.A. Some days, work seemed to flow by very smoothly while other days, work was more than just grading papers or checking assignments. There were a few days where work overloaded and you and Aizawa will be staying up past midnight checking over paperwork. But it was times like these where you truly felt utmost grateful to have a mentor there to help you. And it was even better that your mentor was your favorite person in the world.

It has been ten days since your first day at U.A.

Which means: ten days Aizawa not sleeping a wink during your long lectures about hero work that he already confidently knows. And to some of the classmates who knew their homeroom teacher well enough that his yellow sleeping bag was his best friend, it was a bit…odd.

“Don’t you think it's weird that Aizawa-sensei stays awake only during L/N-sensei’s lectures?” Uraraka asked Kaminari on their way to the Lunch Rush.

“What do you mean?” Kaminari shrugged and chuckled. “It should be weird that a teacher sleeps during class in the first place, right?” He grabbed his food tray excitingly, his eyes focused closely on it, clearly not noticing Uraraka’s suspicious tone nor mischievous eyes.

Tsuyu popped in between with the two and let out a sigh. “Boys……You have to read in between the lines. Uraraka’s right.” She snapped her finger perkily. “Aizawa-sensei is not just awake but he’s seemed very engaged to L/N-sensei.”

Kaminari stared at Tsuyu and Uraraka obliviously as he sat down with the rest of the classmates. “Huh?”

Uraraka rolled her eyes. “You know! From the way he nods his head when she talks or oh! That smile?! I have never seen his lips tilt upwards besides haunting us on how difficult practice exams are going to be.” She tiredly sighed, thinking about her teacher’s wicked smirk every time a huge exam was coming. It was like he found pleasure in challenging the students to surpass their limits.

But Tsuyu and Uraraka knew that Aizawa’s expression when you were in the room wasn’t that wicked grin that he had when announcing an upcoming exam or event. Instead, it was a mixture of awe and sincerity. And it definitely made the two girls exchange some giggles and fun guesses.

“What’s up?” Jirou said, sitting down beside Tsuyu with her cafeteria tray, noticing her friends laughing loudly.

Uraraka leaned forward on the table to peer over at Jirou. “It's about Aizawa-sensei and the new teacher!” Her voice was loud enough that it caught the other classmates’ ears, making her furiously blush afterward from her spontaneous excitement.

But of course, of all the pairs of ears in Class 1-A, there was always the one come rushing in when it’s about his favorite subject: women.

“L/N-SENSEI?!” Mineta’s ears visibly perked up from Uraraka’s gush, clearly engrossed with the topic of the new teacher. “She’s SO gorgeous and oh lord, her—“

“Quit it, Mineta.” Kirishima slapped the back of Mineta’s head beside him before he could finish his lewd statement. He hooked his arm around Kaminari with a giant smirk plastered on his face.

“Why don’t we find out, huh?” Kirishima proposed as Kaminari tried to wiggle his way free from his grasp.

“Hey man, watch your grip!”

Uraraka waved her hand to dismiss Kaminari's racket and stared back up at Kirishima. “About what?” She asked curiously, taking another bite of her rice.

“Girls…” Kaminari mocked sarcastically with a sigh, mirroring Tsuyu’s earlier comment that she made on him. The two girls rolled their eyes and punched his shoulder.

Kirishima leaned into the group closer with slyness flickering in his eyes. He grinned and bopped his head at Jirou. “We can find out if there’s anything special between Aizawa-sensei and L/N-sensei…using Jirou’s quirk!”

Jirou scoffed and leaned back with her arms crossed before Kirishima could continue. “Uh, you’re using me to get info about our homeroom teacher’s private life? That doesn’t sound very friend-like to me if I say so myself.”

“Come on Jirou,” Kaminari whined. “It’ll be fun!”

Jirou raised her brows and sneered. “Since when did you get interested in this?”

Tsuyu shook her head and waved her hands, dismissing the rising chaos. “No, you’re right,” She said, trying not to show her disappointing face. “It’s not fair to just use Jirou to grab juicy news about our teachers, you know…even if it can be so great to the point that it makes us cheerful and excited despite upcoming exams.”

Uraraka bobbled her head up and down, religiously agreeing to everything Tsuyu had to say with a pout on her lips and closed eyes. “Or it can even help us lift our spirits.”

Tsuyu nodded. “Even if it is just a tiny bit, it can-“

“Alright, guys! I get it! Fine!” Jirou said over Tsuyu, earning grins from the boys and giggles from the girls. Jirou sighed and pinched her nose bridge. She looked up at her friends and darted a death glare at Kirishima and Kaminari. “I’m only doing this for the girls.”

It was half-true. Jirou didn’t want to agree to this for the boys. But another reason was because of school lately. With heavy workload that the whole class was dealing with, plus the hero-work after school and training, school has been…well, quite draining. And similar to the time where the whole class decided to hold a competition for “best dorm room” last year to raise everyone’s spirits from the whole villain chaos, she thought maybe this can raise spirits up again too. Even if it’s just miscellaneous curiosity or excitement. She knew and sensed that her friends needed something exciting happening, besides school work.

So the plan that Kirishima introduced was to head over to the teacher’s lounge at this moment during lunch break. Since it was merely the beginning of lunch and there was still a good 45 minutes left, it was the perfect time for teachers to be on their desks with students the last thing on their minds. Jirou can place her earphone jacks in the wall to hear the voices inside to retrieve any news from the two teachers.

“And if we got nothing, that’s totally okay as well.” Kirishima shrugged. “We can always try next time!”

“NEXT TIME?!” Jirou exclaimed uneasily, twirling her earphone jacks. “Let’s just see what happens now, and focus on next time later.”

“All right then!” Uraraka clapped her hands excitingly and bumped her shoulder against Tsuyu’s with a beam. “Mission: FIONA starts now!“

“Fiona?” Kaminari raised his brow, getting out of his seat with the rest of his friends.

Uraraka pointed her finger up in the air pridefully. “Find-Info-ON-Aizawa. I couldn’t think of an acronym for ‘ON’ so just leave it together and you’ll get—wooah!”

Jirou and Tsuyu locked elbows with her and dragged her away before she could finished, followed by Kirishima and Kaminari trotting behind their footsteps.

“If you keep explaining it’s going to be Mission: GIT!” Jirou sneered, giving Uraraka’s elbows a good tug.

“GIT?”

Tsuyu smirked as the five of them head towards the teacher’s office. “GETTING INTO TROUBLE!”

———

Lunch breaks were times where you and Aizawa could finally heave a sigh of relief and chat with each other freely. You were happy to work at U.A with Aizawa because now since work schedules were parallel, you could efficiently have the time to hang out with him. When you were pro-hero at your original agency, you’ll often come back home with no trace of Aizawa since he was still in school working on students’ assignments till late evening.

But now, you had all the time in the world to chat with him. Okay maybe not all the time, just an hour and a half, but it was definitely enough for you.

Aizawa was sitting next to you on your desk, nodding along to your talks about your recent lectures with other classes as he gave some advice on teaching.

You let out a wistful sigh and rested your head on Aizawa’s shoulder. You closed your eyes and let out a hum. “Thanks for helping me through all this. I can’t believe teacher work is this much.”

Aizawa let out a puff of air and smirked. He peered down at you from the corner of his eye. “So are you gonna apologize for all the times you were scolding me for not coming back home early?”

You shot your head back up with your eyes widened and a jaw exasperated dropped. You knew that Aizawa was joking from on his tone but you pressed your hand on your chest and squinted your eyes at him, giving him a death glare. “Excuse me? Uhm, sir, I don’t think that’s fair. And besides! All the hours you were gone, I really really missed you and-“

Aizawa leaned forward, a hand snaking to the back of your neck, taking you by surprise as he crashed his lips against yours. You were completely shell-shocked that your eyes stayed open the entire time. Sure, you have kissed Aizawa a thousand times before, but he rarely made the first move. And oh did your heart fluttered!

Aizawa pulled away with a smile dancing on his lips. “And I really missed you too.”

Before you could open your mouth to respond, you heard a loud gasp from outside, making you unconsciously turn your head towards the sound.

A muffled voice transmitted through the walls. “KEEP IT DOWN, KAMINARI!”

A female’s voice? Or was it a boy?

More muffling voices continued and you couldn’t really understand it, but one thing you knew for sure was that there was someone outside.

You twirled your head back to Aizawa. His face hardened and got up from the chair, walking towards the door.

“SH- ! HE- COMING!” A familiar voice echoed through the walls that you could only capture words of.

Aizawa finally opened the door and looked to his right.

Caught red-handed.

All five students were crunched down to the ground. With Jirou’s earplugs on the wall with Uraraka and Tsuyu beside her, plus Kaminar and Kirishima hovering right above her not missing any detail she was saying, Aizawa knew exactly what was up.

“Shouta? What’s wrong?” You asked, making your way to the door when you saw his cold expression.

You sucked in a breath when you saw the scene to your right.

“RUN!” Jirou shouted but it was too late. Aizawa immediately caught the five of them with his trusty gray scarf so fast that you swore you didn’t even notice it. His scarf rolled all five up into a bundle individually so that their arms were glued to their sides.

All of the students heated up from shame.

“Soooooo……..” Kaminari mumbled weakly, trying to make the matter less intensive. “Are you two dating..or..something?” His voice squeaked higher and higher as Aizawa’s brows got deeper and deeper.

You knew you had every right to be mad that these students who were invading you and Aizawa’s privacy, and you should! But to your surprised, your offended emotions were quickly replaced with a comical one as you saw all the students’ ducking their heads in shame, darting their eyes away from Aizawa’s hardened glare.

Ah well…they would’ve found out sooner or later.

You let out a chuckle. Aizawa turned his head at you with his eyes widened, not knowing that you would be taking this matter so lightly. But you returned him with a kind of smile that immediately released the tension of his grip and the eyebrows on his face.

The students perked their heads up in confusion from your reaction, and you flashed them a smile as you snaked your hand behind Aizawa’s back.

“Dating? Hmmm…,” you said, a lopsided smirk dancing across your lips.

“I think it’s a little bit more than that.”

And with those words, Uraraka and Tsuyu couldn’t help but squeal in delight despite still being bonded. Kaminari swore he never felt this wholesome since getting accepted into U.A, and Kirishima—on the other hand—twirled his head away from you and mumbled with his eyebrows furrowed in great passion: “…He’s so manly!”

And Aizawa? Well, he definitely looked at you in surprise for being so open, but no less than a second, he felt a warm breeze rushing through his body.

Your laugh after seeing the students’ reaction was the most beautiful sound he has ever heard.

It always has been.

And hearing that made him feel like hey…

Perhaps people knowing wouldn’t hurt! And maybe it’s because he just loved you that much, or maybe it’s that fact that he realized, that no matter if his class or the freakin’ public knows or not….

Nothing…absolutely nothing, is going to disrupt the beautiful relationship the two of you have.

#aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta #aizawa shouta x you #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa #bnha aizawa #bnha x reader #bnha #mha x reader #mha #shouta aizawa #shouta aizawa x reader

1K notes · View notes

the-chicken-or-the-banana · 3 years

Note

Hi! There's a headcannon that has been circulating that I never saw fully written, and I love how you characterize the foxes! Basically, Andrew living the setbacks of being short (either privately or publicly), getting frustrated, and Neil comforting him

THIS IS SO FUNNY SKDJFHK also i have always wanted to write a 5+1 so tyvm for this (again, this ended up so goddamn long but. what else is new.)

read "shortcomings (honestly, fuck you tilda)" on ao3 hereeeee

———

Andrew gripped the edges of the counter. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Eye on the prize.

He squinted at the offensively orange mixing bowl that Kevin had placed far too high on the shelf earlier that day. He had planned on baking cookies (for no reason other than that he was bored), and that bowl was his lucky one: every baked good he made using it always rose perfectly.

Andrew had tried everything — stretching as far as he could, trying to move things with his mind, even going as far as going on his toes (after a cursory glance that no one was around).

He eyed the step-stool on the other side of the kitchen. He could always use that and put it back and no one would be the wiser. But no. Andrew was a fully capable adult with a reputation to uphold and he would get that bowl down by himself, dammit.

Andrew had been through hell and back, and then some. He would not be bested by cabinetry.

He rubbed his hands against his shirt before placing them back on the counter and took a running crouch. Andrew bounced lightly on his toes, mentally counted to three, and leapt up, hand reaching forward to grip at the bowl.

For one glorious moment, it really seemed like it would work.

Then the counter whacked Andrew in the gut, he smacked his head against the cabinet, and he slowly slid down to the floor, no bowl in hand.

Hmm. That wasn't supposed to happen.

He jerked his head up to glare at the stupid bowl and promptly felt extremely dizzy, slipping even further until he was collapsed entirely on the floor, limbs splayed.

That wasn't supposed to happen either.

Oh well. If he couldn't ruin his health with cookies, he might as well do it by laying on the most unhygienic piece of property he had ever seen. He supposed this was an acceptable way to go.

Andrew lay there on the dorm floor for a solid 15 minutes, willing the bowl to come down, until he heard the dorm room unlock and the sound of Neil's quiet humming filled the room. He didn't have the energy to get up though, so he flopped his legs around as Neil passed the kitchen to catch his attention.

"Oh, hey Drew," Neil shuffled further into the dorm after giving Andrew a quick glance and smile. A few seconds later, the humming stopped and Andrew saw the outline of Neil's body slowly move back into the kitchen doorway. "Um. Can I ask why you're starfished on the floor?"

Andrew sluggishly pointed upwards. "Bowl. High. Jumped. Fell."

Neil nodded knowingly. Andrew stared at him purposefully. Neil blinked.

Idiot.

"Get it for me," Andrew scowled with a well-aimed kick at Neil's ankles. Neil's eyes widened before filling with mirth. He walked forward and sat down next to Andrew's side, running a hand through his blond hair. Andrew hated himself for leaning into the touch.

"Aww, what's wrong?" Neil cooed. "Can't reach it?"

What a fucking asshole.

Andrew shot Neil a glare — he could admit that it probably wasn't super effective considering that he was on the floor with his not-boyfriend carding his fingers through his hair, but it was the thought that counted, okay! — and Neil gave him an amused look before pushing himself off the ground.

He shuffled around Andrew's limp body before giving an exasperated sigh.

"Andrew."

"Junkie."

"There is a stepstool right here."

"Yes."

"You didn't use it."

"No."

"... Why?"

Andrew shrugged in response.

He heard Neil grumbling under his breath and, a few seconds later, was rewarded with Neil's gross socks in front of his face as he went on the tips of his toes to grab at the bowl. Andrew glanced up and noticed that Neil's shorts were delightfully loose around his thighs.

Nice.

He indulged himself in the view until Neil dropped back down on the balls of his feet, holding the bowl proudly.

"Got it!" he grinned down at Andrew and flopped back down on the floor, pulling Andrew into a sitting position. Neil pressed up against him after a quick 'yes or no?' and handed over the bowl so Andrew.

"That was not fair," Andrew grumbled after a few minutes of calm silence. "You did that so easily. You're barely taller than me."

Neil nudged his shoulder and planted a kiss to the side of his head. "It's okay," he gave an annoyingly soft look. "I'll always be there to help you, whenever you need it."

Andrew huffed. "I did not ask for sentimentality, Josten. Just a bowl."

Irritatingly, this caused Neil to laugh a bit. "Okay, okay, I'll leave you with your precious bowl." He moved to get up and pressed a chaste kiss to Andrew's lips. "But for what it's worth, I think your size is perfect."

He left Andrew missing the warmth of Neil's body beside him before his brain caught up to what Neil just said.

"Josten. Josten! Was that a fucking dick joke?"

There were moments where Andrew desperately wanted to burn Neil's clothing. He understood that they were remnants of past habits that were hard to break, but surely having this many gray and brown shirts had to be criminal.

Andrew refused to be seen kissing such a heathen in public but he really only knew how to put Neil in hot club clothes rather than hot casual clothes. And so, for the sake of humanity (and his dignity), he swallowed his pride and met up with Allison Fucking Reynolds.

Their plan to snatch up Neil from the Exy court to take him shopping at the mall appeared to be going well. So far, they'd bought him some shirts, artfully ripped jeans, denim jackets, and an actually functional pair of shoes. Neil, for all his stamina, looked like he was about to collapse from the weight of the bags, so Allison and Andrew took pity on him and decided to take a lunch break.

The three of them reached the food court and made their way to a noodle shop (after Andrew extracted a promise that he could get some ice cream afterwards). He and Allison sat Neil down on a bench to guard their massive pile of bags before going up to order.

By the time they were at the front of the line, Andrew was fully prepared to stab Reynolds in the middle of the mall. In a span of five minutes, she had managed to ask him about his and Neil's sex life, when they got together, what Neil's exact sexuality was, and had Andrew ever painted his nails?

He resolutely refused to answer any of those questions, on the principle that she didn't need more money from bets than she already had.

They ordered quickly, Andrew eager to get away from Reynolds, when the cashier said something that made him stop in his tracks.

"We actually have a discount right now for kids under 12!" she said smiling. "Is that something you'd be interested in?"

Andrew squinted. Why the hell would they—

Oh. Oh no, no, no.

Allison seemed to come to the same realization that he did, because she smiled wide and tapped her nails against the counter.

"Oh, that's just perfect!" she exclaimed. "Aaron here just turned 11 a few months ago. We'll take the discount."

Aaron?!

Andrew was going to kill her.

He was still planning bloody murder as Reynolds brought their tray of food to the table. He sat down with a scowl, and though Neil shot him a curious glance, he didn't push it.

Stupid considerate junkie.

Andrew muttered a percentage under his breath and proceeded to poke Neil in the cheek with his chopsticks. After a few moments of this, Neil turned to him with a scowl.

"Andrew," he grumbled. "What are you doing?"

Andrew glared at Reynolds.

Neil gave a resigned sigh and turned to her. "Allison. What happened?"

Reynolds smirked. "Oh, nothing much. Just that the cashier thought that your boy was a literal child and gave us a discount for kids 12 and under. I told her that it was great because Aaron over there," she jabbed a finger towards Andrew. "just turned 11."

Neil looked like he was biting back a laugh but then frowned. "Okay, but arms."

"True," Reynolds conceded. "However, consider this: tiny."

The two idiots nodded like they'd figured out some indispensable secret of the universe.

Frustrated, Andrew went back to poking Neil's face; when he finally glanced back, Andrew nudged his arms and shuffled a bit closer. Thankfully, Neil actually got the hint for once and scraped featherlight fingers into Andrew's hair.

"It's okay," Neil tried. "I mean, at the end of the day, all of us are just broke college kids—"

"I'm not," Allison interrupted.

Neil rolled his stupid, pretty eyes. "Okay, most of us are broke college kids—"

"Don't you have a bunch of mafia blood money and stuff?" Reynolds asked.

"Beside the point," Neil huffed. "Fine, Andrew, you are a broke college kid—" "Gee, thanks." "— and so you should be grateful that your height is saving you some money."

"That is dumb."

"You're dumb."

"How creative."

Neil scowled and tugged on Andrew's hair. "Shut up. Drama queen."

Andrew stabbed a piece of stir fry into Neil's mouth to close that damn mouth and resolutely ignored the click of Allison's phone camera.

This was proving to be a problem.

Andrew stared at his $150 jeans, the bottom of the legs frayed and pale. He had just bought these two weeks ago. What a waste of money.

There really was only one thing left to do.

Minutes later, Andrew slammed open the door to his brother's dorm and dragged him out with Aaron demanding to know where they were going. By the time he had wrestled his idiot doppelganger to the car, Andrew was reaching. his. fucking. limit.

"Andrew, if you don't tell me where we're going, I swear I'll bite you. I'll push Neil off a treadmill and dump a bucket of mud on him. I'll throw all your ice cream in the trash. I'll—"

That last one was simply too far. He'd have to give Aaron some ground.

"Get in, loser," Andrew glared. "We're going shopping."

Thankfully, he managed to keep Aaron quiet until they reached the mall by letting him pick the music (it was country! Southern heathen). What a child.

Rich coming from you, a voice told him snidely. You can't even buy clothes for yourself properly.

Shut up, he scolded himself.

"Andrew," Aaron sighed exasperatedly when they reached the parking lot. "Can you finally tell me what we're shopping for?"

They got out of the car and Andrew raised an eyebrow as he faced Aaron. "Sex toys."

"WHAT THE FU— "

Andrew watched his brother's face turn red as he sputtered, before noticing the amusement in his face.

Aaron deflated. "Asshole," he grumped.

"Yeah, that is generally where the dildo goes."

"Shut up. I'm begging you."

Andrew decided to take pity on him and stabbed a finger towards Aaron's legs. "When did you buy those."

Aaron squinted. "My jeans?" At Andrew's nod, he looked confused. "Uh, like three or four months ago maybe. Why?"

Three or four months?! That was simply unacceptable.

"They are still in good quality," Andrew said slowly.

"...Yes?" Aaron looked lost for a few moments before his face brightened with pure, evil glee. Andrew hated the world more in that moment than he ever had before. "Oh my God. Oh my God. Are your jeans too long for you?"

"Be quiet," he snapped. "You just need to show me where you buy yours and never mention this to anyone or I'll stab you."

Aaron didn't seem as concerned as he should have been. "I don't need to do anything, dumbass. Why don't you just cuff them like me?"

"I refuse to look like a bisexual disaster."

"Hey," Aaron looked mildly offended. "That's not a bisexual thing. Right?" At Andrew's blank look, his eyes widened. "No. Oh shit. Is that why guys keep hitting on me at Eden's?"

Andrew actually blinked at that. He had not realized that his brother was really that stupid. "Aaron. Eden's is a gay bar. Obviously men will hit on you."

"Wait, it's a what— "

"Be quiet. You are coming with me now." He dragged his brother to the mall entrance as Aaron bumbled along behind him, swearing incoherently.

They weaved their way through what seemed like a million stores until Andrew walked out hours later, finally satisfied with his new haul of jeans that Aaron had oh-so-considerately helped to pick out, a few hundred dollars poorer, and two churros and an iced coffee fuller.

Andrew trudged up the stairs to his floor (perhaps this was a workout he should regularly implement in his exercise regime) while Aaron split off to find some study group or other.

By the time he reached his dorm, Andrew felt far more exhausted than the situation warranted and he blindly chucked the bags on the sofa, belatedly realizing that Neil was already sitting where the bags would land. Oops.

He sat down by Neil like the throw was entirely intentional as Neil sputtered when the plastic smacked him in the face.

"What's all this?" the junkie questioned. For fuck's sake, why did his eyes have to be so blue?

Andrew just gestured for him to take the clothes out and saw as Neil's face grew confused when he saw what he was holding.

"Jeans? Didn't you literally buy some like a week ago?"

"Two," Andrew corrected, because he was a petty bitch if nothing else. Neil rolled his stupid eyes at that but waited for Andrew to provide an explanation. Andrew heaved a regretful sigh. "The bottom of them are all frayed now"

"Frayed?" the striker's brows furrowed before his face cleared and a shit-eating smirk crossed his face. "Wait, wait, wait. Are you saying you were too short for your jeans?"

Andrew nearly stabbed him right then and there.

"Shut. Up."

"Oh my gosh. Andrew. Andrew."

When Andrew got up (not grumpily. never grumpily. (okay, maybe a little grumpily)), Neil tugged on his shirt sleeve with an apologetic grin. "Sorry, sorry, I'll stop making fun," but his eyes were squinted as he tried not to laugh and his face was flushed and his lips were red as he bit on them, and honestly, how was Andrew expected to stay annoyed after seeing that?

"I mean," Neil continued. "You're paying with whatever you have left of Tilda's life insurance, right? And it's technically her fault you're so, uh... vertically challenged because of the drugs and shit. So you buying all these jeans are like a big "fuck you" to her!"

Andrew blinked slowly at his not-boyfriend's not-cute not-endearing hand-waving and decided he could take a hit to his reputation if it kept Neil glowing like this. "Josten. Are you saying that being short is literally in my jeans?"

"Holy shit, yes."

To be fair, he had been warned. This was probably his own fault. Which he would never admit, but whatever.

It had started fine enough.

Andrew had been smoking by the windowsill as he waited for Neil to come back from his class. It was raining heavily and he felt a comfortable laze settle in his bones, so he didn't bother to open the window, despite Kevin's complaints.

"Andrew, stop smoking in here. If you want to destroy your lungs, at least do it away from me."

"Shut up and watch your damn Exy, Day."

He shut up and watched his damn Exy.

Andrew let the sounds of the game wash over him as he let his eyes droop (when did Exy become... relaxing to him? That was moderately concerning), so by the time he realized that there was an incessant beeping sound in the background, everything was too far gone to not have gone to shit.

His body finally jolted into action when he finally registered that the smoke alarm was blaring in their dorm and he heard yells coming from outside in the hallway, which probably meant an RA or some other Foxes were about to burst in and see him smoking where he wasn't supposed to. For the third time this month.

Crap.

"Day. Day! Get off your fucking computer and turn off the alarm," he hissed as he (gracefully) scrambled to the kitchen to find a towel.

"Hmm?" Kevin hummed blearily. "Oh. That. Well, I told you so."

Andrew simply could not believe it. (Well, maybe he could a bit. Kevin was just that kind of asshole frie— person.)

By the time he dampened a towel (wow, they really needed to do the dishes sometime soon), the shouts were right outside the door and he heard keys jingling in the lock. Quickly he scrambled up the table, but in his haste, kicked over a glass of water (vodka? Sprite? whatever).

He tripped over slightly and his foot splashed into the puddle on the table, causing him to cringe internally. His sock felt horribly wet and tingly, and it was nearly enough to distract him from the creaking of the door opening. Quickly, he reached up, flapping the towel near the smoke alarm to turn it off.

It wasn't enough. He couldn't reach the alarm.

In a split-second, he decided to just fuck it and leapt up to see if that would work. However, the uncomfortable feeling in his feet and the stupid smoke alarm and the fucking banging of the door made him severely misjudge his strength.

Andrew jumped a lot further forward than he expected. He flew through the air, one foot catching on the top of a chair, the other stabbed by the edge of the table. In a futile attempt to gain his balance, Andrew flailed his arms around, but that just caused the towel to smack him in the face.

Eventually, gravity took hold of him and he (and the chair) crashed into the floor, the towel mockingly flopping on his hair. Blearily, he raised his head up and saw Neil and their RA staring at him concernedly from the doorway.

Well, this was awkward. At least the beeping had stopped.

Their RA, an unfortunately attractive tennis player named Richard Addams (Nicky found it hilarious that their RA's initials were R.A.. Andrew called him 'Certified Dick™'), stepped in cautiously. "Andrew, everything okay?"

"Just peachy," he grumbled.

Neil ran to Andrew's side at the sound of his voice and pushed his blond hair out of his face. "Why peaches? They're honestly not even that good; I can only stand the really big and thick and juicy ones."

Andrew froze and even Kevin closed his laptop that. "Neil," Certified Dick™ said slowly. "Do you know what peaches are?"

"Duh," he rolled his eyes. "Fruit. That's why Nicky has a peach next to my name in his contacts. Because I like fruits."

Idiot.

"It means 'ass,' " Andrew informed him. Neil gaped.

"It means wha— "

"Okay," Certified Dick™ exclaimed cheerfully. "I'm gonna leave y'all here. Andrew, I'll assume you weren't doing anything against the rules because you are a kind person who always listens to what I say."

"Of course," Andrew said blandly. "I am a wonderful student." He fingered the edges of his armbands.

Certified Dick™ slowly backed out of the room.

Neil let out a breath and blew his hair out of his eyes. "Okay," he started. "We'll talk about the ass thing later. But first, what the hell just happened?"

Andrew pointed up at the smoke alarm.

"Well, yes, I got that, but why were you jumping around like an absolute idiot?"

"Kevin is useless," Andrew announced.

"Not true!" Kevin protested immediately. "You just never listen to me. It's not my fault that I'm always right."

Andrew glared at him and turned back to Neil. "I couldn't reach the stupid smoke alarm," he finally gritted out, bracing for someone to mock him.

It never came.

Instead, Neil gave him a cheeky grin and a wink (at least, Andrew assumed it was a wink) and turned to Kevin with a faux-annoyed stare. "Seriously, Kev? You didn't help him?"

"He got himself into his own mess," Kevin shrugged.

"Okay, and what if someone had caught him? They might have not allowed him to play Exy for a bit! Or maybe while he was trying to shut off the alarm, he could have really hurt himself!" Neil was really laying it heavy on the dramatics, brandishing his arms wildly.

Kevin's eyes widened in horror at his words. "Shit."

"Yeah," Neil nodded graveley. "Us Exy players have got to look out for each other. How else will we live to our potentials?"

Kevin looked like he was going to be sick. Quickly, he whipped open his laptop and began muttering questions on how to secretly disable smoke alarms.

"Junkie," Andrew muttered to Neil. Neil just hummed and pressed a kiss to the crook of his neck.

"Yeah," he whispered a few moments later. "Only for you."

Hmm. This was nice.

Andrew never could have imagined he would be the kind of guy to stumble over furniture while kissing his way through a room, and yet, here he was, crashing into tables and upturning chairs and tripping over bags.

He had Neil's fingers intertwined with his and was dragging him through the dorm, the kisses constantly pausing because Neil kept breaking off into small smiles and laughing into his neck. Every few steps, Andrew would take a look at his flushed junkie and absolutely forget about his plan to reach the bedroom, choosing instead to kiss him ferociously right there.

They were lucky that no one else was in the dorm.

When Andrew realized that it had taken them a solid seven minutes to walk about 15 feet past the door, he realized they would probably never reach an actual bed at the rate they were going. He told Neil as much and was rewarded with a shrug.

"I literally don't care where we end up," Neil said breathlessly before pulling him into another heated kiss. "I just wanna kiss you."

Andrew nearly snorted at that. How predictable. "I got that" he muttered. "But what do you want?"

Neil raised an eyebrow and deepened his voice mockingly. "I want nothing."

"You are actually so insufferable."

"Yeah, yeah," Neil waved him off and latched his mouth on Andrew's neck. Fuck. "Hmm," he said a few moments later. "Carry me?"

Andrew resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Ever since the junkie had seen how much he lifted at the gym a few weeks ago, this had become one of his favorite requests (and really, who was Andrew to deny him?).

Nevertheless, he leaned down and grabbed both of Neil's thighs, pushing him up until his legs were secured around Andrew's waist and Andrew could comfortably hold him up, his body flush against Andrew's.

Yeah, he got why Neil liked this so much.

He wasn't sure how long he'd be able to hold Neil up for though, considering that they actually had a game tomorrow and he didn't want to put up with Kevin's annoying complaints if he didn't try at least a bit. Andrew glanced around for a second before his eyes caught on the perfect place.

He adjusted his grip on Neil, causing him to let out an oof in surprise and carefully made his way to the kitchen (with only a slight amount of kissing in the middle). Andrew messily deposited Neil on the island counter and was promptly faced with another problem.

Neil was up there. Andrew was down here. How the hell were they supposed to make out now?

Andrew frowned slightly and tugged at Neil's collar. "Lean down," he commanded.

Neil complied and pressed a searing kiss to his lips, tugging at Andrew's hair, but too soon he pulled back.

At Andrew's 'yes or no?' Neil smiled down sheepishly. "It's a yes, but this angle's going to end up destroying my back."

That made no sense — whenever Andrew sat on the counter, he never had to lean down that much. He reasoned that the weight of being an Exy junkie was finally catching up to Neil's spine, though.

"Well," Andrew huffed. "I'm not going up on my toes."

"Why would you need to go on your toes?" Neil looked genuinely confused as Andrew frustratedly gestured at the air between them. "Wait, wait. Can you not reach me if I'm sitting up here?"

Andrew's thoughts came to a halt.

He pulled back (well, as much as he could while still staying in Neil's arms) and squinted suspiciously at his not-boyfriend. "Can you normally reach me when I sit up?"

"Well, yeah," Neil blinked. "I mean, I have to stretch a little bit but it's usually fine."

What.

Unceremoniously, Andrew yanked Neil off the counter and sat himself up (he pretended not to notice the stare that Neil gave when he flexed his arms). He hooked his ankles around Neil and dragged him closer, coming nearly forehead-to-forehead.

Forehead-to-forehead. Neil could reach him.

Andrew let out an uncharacteristic groan and dropped his head on Neil's surprisingly comfy shoulder. Neil snorted quietly and patted his head.

"It's okay, Drew," he said, his voice muffled but teasing as he pressed a kiss to the top of Andrew's head. "Maybe next time we can get you a stool or something. That'll be real attractive."

Andrew scowled and kicked him in the leg.

Neil's voice softened as he lowered his arms to rub soft circles on his back. "But I'm serious Andrew, it's okay." He pressed a soft kiss to Andrew's collarbone, the underside of his jaw, the corner of his lips. "Does this feel good?"

Andrew swallowed. Hiding from Neil was a fight he knew he'd lose, and there was no point prolonging the inevitable. "Yes."

"Then that's all I need. Making you feel good makes me feel good," he whispered. "I really like this, what we do right now. And if you want, we can still find more positions that feel really good. Don't stress, we have time."

"Hmm," Andrew said a few moments later. "That is all fine and well, but actually, we now only have about 20 minutes until Kevin comes back from class, and I would highly appreciate it if you could get me off sometime soon."

"Asshole. We were totally having a moment."

"Next to a bowl of apples."

"Rude. I bet those apples appreciated the conversation."

Andrew rolled his eyes at Neil's idiocy, but kissed him hard to convey everything he felt: you care, you listen, you are okay with me, you are safe for me. Neil seemed to get the message, because his body softened under Andrew's grip as he kissed him back eagerly.

When they finally pulled apart, Andrew felt heavy and sated and secure in the way he only associated with Neil. He looked into Neil's blown-out pupils, the blue peeking brightly at the edges of his eyes as he slowly brought Neil's hand to the waistband of his jeans.

"Right," Andrew tried for a nonchalant tone. The slight voice-crack may have betrayed him, but whatever. "Take off my pants now?"

South Carolina winters were shit.

Growing up in Oakland meant that he was pretty used to cold winters and hot summers, but usually things only got unbearably chilly at night, when he could pile tons of blankets on himself. Unfortunately, winters in the South brought biting wind and snow. All day long.

Andrew hated the cold (sure, he could walk around with a blanket draped over him like a cape in his dorm (he did. occasionally), but alas, he actually had a reputation to uphold)

And yet, when Nicky and Dan enthusiastically told Neil about their stupid plan and Neil had sent a stupid questioning gaze to Andrew's stupid face, he sure as fuck couldn't use "the cold" as an excuse to deny those eyes.

So he bundled up into a turtleneck, a sweater, a thin jacket and a snow one, a beanie, a pair of gloves, leggings and then sweatpants, and his warmest socks (Andrew decidedly ignored Neil's snickers, who was annoying dressed in just a long-sleeved shirt and jeans. how rude.)

The so-called Monsters trampled down to the parking lot outside the Tower, boots sinking deep into the snow. Andrew shivered at the sudden wind and if he walked a little closer to Neil's hot warm body — well, no one needed to know.

Within seconds of their arrival, Andrew was regretting coming out.

A massive snowball soared through the air and slammed into Aaron's face, who promptly fell on his ass from the force of it.

"What the fuck?" he sputtered, wiping snow out of his eyes.

"HA!" Reynolds hollered. "Take that!"

"Oh dear," Neil muttered. "I didn't expect this much violence from the start."

"We are Foxes," Andrew scoffed. "Violence is the whole point."

"Actually, there's this one piece of shit in my Stats class and he tried to tell me I was wrong — I wasn't, by the way — and instead of punching him, I just very mathematically proved how incompetent he was and I told him that his parents' miscalculation when it came to conceiving him evidently got passed on to him in the form of his nonexistent math skills. So. No violence."

Andrew wasn't sure if he should kiss Neil or smack him. "Right. Because verbal annihilation is a very tame response."

"Since when have you been such a peacemaker?"

"Renee."

"You two literally beat the shit out of each other every week."

Andrew shrugged. "Semantics."

"I really don't think— "

Their conversation was rudely interrupted by Matt throwing a snowball mere inches away from Andrew's face. At his glare, Matt promptly ran behind a car.

"Neil," Andrew sighed. "I hate you."

"I didn't force you to be here," Neil pointed out. "Could've said no. What did Nicky call you? 'Whipped.' So ha." With that profound statement, Neil ducked and dumped a handful of snow down the back of Andrew's shirt.

"Ha," Andrew said back smugly. "Layers." Neil looked betrayed.

"Layers. I forgot."

"I didn't."

"Asshole."

"Yup."

Neil scowled and kicked at Andrew's highly sturdy snow boots petulantly. Andrew refrained from rolling his eyes turned towards him. "Yes or no?"

"Oh," Neil perked up. Junkie. "Yes, yes."

Andrew jabbed him in the stomach and when Neil keeled over groaning, he pressed a kiss to his lips and shoved his head under Neil's chin.

"Personal heater," Andrew explained. Then he grabbed Neil's arms and tucked them around his waist. This was good.

"Right," Neil snorted. "Naturally. I can't wait until someone throws a snowball at your face and you get all cold and wet."

Andrew scowled. How rude.

"Oi, Minyard!" Dan called and Andrew sighed before wiggling around until he was facing her, back flush against Neil's front. "This is for drawing mustaches all over the pictures in the Court!"

Andrew raised an eyebrow. "You have no proof— "

His protests were cut off with the sight of a snowball hurtling full speed at him. He made to jump out of the way (maybe Exy was good for something after all), but Neil's arms around him proved to be a real hindrance.

As it was, he got jerked back into place, the snowball inches in front of him. Andrew shut his eyes, hoping he could use this as an excuse to drag Neil into the dorm to warm up, when he heard an "oof" from behind him.

Andrew twisted around to find Neil's face covered in an explosion of snow, water dripping down his shocked expression.

His eyelashes were nice. Hmm.

"Wh- What?" he shivered. "How is there snow on my face? Wasn't it supposed to land on you?"

Oh.

Andrew brushed off some snow that had settled on his cheekbones before stepping back a bit (still in Neil's arms. that was necessary). And Neil was right, it was odd, the snowball was supposed to hit him and instead, it had smashed itself on Neil.

"I believe," Andrew said slowly. "My height has proved to be advantageous."

"Advan— you mean you were so short the snowball literally missed you and hit me?!"

"Yup," Andrew felt extremely self-satisfied. "See, had you been shorter, this wouldn't have happened. Alas, there's just more of you to hit when you're tall."

"That— I— Andrew!"

"That's my name."

"Ugh. I am cold and wet and very much not liking this," Neil grumbled.

"Bet you wish you had as many jackets as me, huh?" Andrew crowed.

"You could always give one of them to me," Neil said as he yanked Andrew back against him.

"I could. Not feeling it, though."

"Bastard."

"Just a little," Andrew agreed. He tilted his head up to look at Neil and oh, that angle was good, his lips were right there, how did Andrew never notice that Neil's eyelashes framed his eyes so nicely?

Hmm. If this was the view, maybe his height had some... unforeseen perks that extended beyond snowball fighting.

"I win," Andrew told Neil seriously. At his confused expression, Andrew was forced to sigh out an explanation. "You are very pretty from down here."

"Oh?"

"Shut up."

"I think you're pretty too."

"198%."

"Kiss me?"

"Ugh, if you insist."

Andrew leaned up to press his lips to Neil, dutifully ignoring the cheers from behind him, as Neil placed a hand under his chin to tilt him up further, which felt very nice.

Yeah, Andrew was living the good life. He had a maybe-boyfriend who was the perfect height and a brother and cousin who might actually stay, and he was content and safe and— really fucking cold because there was a ball of snow sliding down his neck what the fuck what the fuck what the fu— .

"NICKY."

"Shit. Sorry!"

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why-this-kolaveri-machi · 3 years

Text

the wolf should’ve been afraid of me.

Titans 3.04

just under the wire! ... i hope.

like with the previous review, i’m typing this up as i see the episode. here we go!

spoilers ahead.

1. ... well. that was an interesting cold open.

1.25. i don’t know whether to admire this show’s restraint when it comes to gotham and its excesses, particularly arkham asylum. it’d be easy to go hammer and tongs, like suicide squad (2016) did, or any number of bat media did, at a tropey, colourful~~insanity~~ that can be quite damaging, casting mental illness in strangeness and criminality. it definitely shows gotham as... separate from the rest of the country, its own ecosystem of heroes and villains, a sort of rogue state.

but that ecosystem is still human, with its heroes needing to clip parts of themselves away just to survive, growing old and needing to be recycled, its villains languishing in the same kinds of systems that fail everybody else who needs to be helped. it’s a quieter, tenser sort of wrongness: not strange enough that you can dissociate, but not close enough that you can completely empathise. gotham is its own creature.

1.5. i know that the reasoning behind this is more doylist than anything, but i’m so glad that joker was killed off with little fanfare right at the start of the season. he is the one man in the batverse that’s transcended its confines as this sort of ethereal boogeyman/eternal edgelord and to justify his presence in the series would mean giving him this tired, overblown importance and too much of a stab at colourful, tropey “madness” in this otherwise-subdued series. i wish all batmedia would follow suit and get rid of this fucker.

1.75. so jason is bucking scarecrow’s control! or reminding him of who exactly holds all the cards right now. circling back to what i talked about in the last review, it’s remarkable just how little time it’s been since jason’s “death” and he’s already got ‘minions’ and elaborately set up plans to track, break and kill the titans. just how long has he been planning this? when did he first look at WE weapons prototypes and think that’s something i can use to blow somebody up? and the most unsettling question: did he plan his own death at the hands of the joker just so that he could break batman?

at this point it’s obvious that the scarecrow at least started jason down this path, but it’s frightening just how far he’s travelled already.

1.8. aaagh, less than one minute in! i’ll shut up.

2. conner washing his hands at the sink reminds me that he was directly in the line of explosion when hank got blown up and he’s probably got atomised hank-bits all over his skin that he’s desperately trying to wash off.

... you’re welcome.

2.25. conner, don’t you speak to gar fucking logan like that, sir, no!

2.3. if anything it’s the lex part of him that gave him the knowhow to recognise the weapon and build a de-activator for it.

anyway, for that ‘half-breed’ and ‘talking tiger’ comment?

(i wish, tho, that we actually see conner more interested in the superman part of his legacy, like maybe listening to stories from gar, or even better, dick, so we get a better idea of the pressure he’s feeling to live up to that part of him and not the part that’s lex.)

((i talked about conner’s stages of moral development in his introductory episode last season, but i wonder if the next stage of his self-actualisation would be to further integrate the parts of himself and realise that they are only parts and he, conner, is an entirely different person unto himself that can make decisions on how to use what he has and what he knows. his superman abilities can be used to destroy. his lex knowledge can be used to save.))

3. oh dawn :((

3.25. is this the last we see of dawn and hank? i mean, we know donna is coming back; would it be a stretch to think they’ll try to have a go at resurrecting hank as well?

3.5. “deathstroke didn’t make us into killers.” good, because deathstroke didn’t make jason a killer either. there’s a missing step there you need to be looking for, dick.

3.75. dick did try to break the cycle, step away from gotham, run from the possibility that he could turn into batman. it didn’t help; he couldn’t fully withdraw from his vigilante persona the same time he loathed it, and batman literally haunted him both asleep and awake. but maybe gotham doesn’t have to turn anybody into anything. maybe gotham has nothing to do with it at all. it’s about taking responsibility, realising some sacrifices are pure bullshit, and building an actual family instead of merely a team.

anyway: hugs!

(oh, also? mr “i hate flying”? i mean, there’s perfectly valid reasons to hate flying that’s not related to childhood trauma, but then again, this guy was literally a ‘flying grayson’ once. also also, remember that he also gets sea-sick. must’ve a lot of fun stories to tell.)

4. ooh that gar/kory confrontation was brief but cool!

listen, i have never seen a psychiatrist with that extravagant an office and SIR I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW HOW--

4.5. kory’s so unused to reaching out for help and it’s breaking my heart that HPG likely is some kind of impostor that’s maybe causing her symptoms in the first place.

kory and dick have mostly been apart this season but it’s remarkable how their journeys have paralleled each other; kory processes her grief, isolation and existential dread into a determination to take care of this new family she has, no matter what it takes; dick does much the same, forging ahead with plans and solutions until he has no fuel left in him and spirals into a massive breakdown.

4.25. listen titans this really is a TERRIBLE continuity error. we aren’t goldfish; we can clearly remember that two minutes ago it was gar’s upper arm that was burned, not his forearm. COME ON.

“sensory deprivation tank” *SNORT*

anyway, gar is the BEST

4.5. i wonder where these visions of experimentation took place. was it on tamaran, or on earth, after she came to hunt down rachel/trigon and before she lost all her memories? is HPG a part of the scientist group that experimented on her? ... god, i hope not. i mean, i think he is, but it would be cool to have some positive therapist representation in media.

5. you’d think the van transporting a dangerous supervillain that only batman could catch would be more secure but... i’m also not entirely surprised.

5.15. i love dick gives ZERO shits about hiding himself or even ensuring scarecrow is adequately contained. just turns away after kidnapping him in BROAD DAYLIGHT and says ‘let’s go’. I LOVE THIS DUMBASS

6. lmao gar is having a really really shitty day SOMEONE GIVE THIS MAN A BREAK or just a goddamn story arc of his own

6.5. i’m really confused about the timeline here. so... sometime ago, kory came down to earth to hunt down trigon, yeah? at some further point down the line she and her sister were kidnapped and experimented on. THEN she somehow escapes but... loses her memory? a few months pass and then we see blackfire alive and well and free; she kills faddei, can impersonate other people, and is clearly seeking out kory. but now she’s still in the experiment facility...? what’s going on?

i’m not entirely surprised about the facility being mostly deserted. either the biggest investors in this project gave up on it and it was left to the most fanatic to carry on, or they were deliberately trying to lure kory and get her to free blackfire--expand the environs of the experiment, so to speak.

7. hopefully barbara is going to get something to do other than listen to various men give her Attitude

8. how do you terrorise a terrorist? well:

i love when dick is a scary-competent motherfucker.

8.25. ooooh, the attack on crane at arkham a ploy to get crane to blackgate? nice one dick, i didn’t even think of that. but why though? to protect crane from the titans? to intercept the van to blackgate and “rescue” him? seems likely--red hood was there, except dick got to crane quicker.

9. still reeeallly unclear about the komand’r situation. was komand’r captured after s2? is this all A TRAP?? if so, why are you stepping into the only thing that can contain you, kory????

9.25. so... definite parallels between dick/jason and kory/kom here. i’m just. i’m still. really confused. i’ll shut up now.

10. this may be my favourite dick look yet:

woodsman!dick in a beanie.

10.5. i unironically love how titans has made this bizarrely-devoted-to-his-moniker, toxin-spewing supervillain into a tamer version of hannibal, psychoanalysing his victims into submission. it’s of a piece with how inward looking titans is, the way all of its villains are obsessed with how our protagonists’ minds work, to the point where they would actually spend time inside of them.

there are no big plots to end the world. no apocalypses or endgames here. these villains collect the titans’ insecurities like infinity stones. the way the titans defeat them is by achieving character growth--literally winning by the power of love. literally “the real superpower is the friends we made along the way”!

10.7. anyway, i’m betting dick is used to this bullshit from crane and is humouring him in the service of getting more information. the story about the wolf? an implicit threat, not to mention dick getting to control what crane knows about him and what methods he would use to manipulate him.

am i giving dick too much credit here? i don’t think so. he’s really impressed me so far this season.

10.75. like. there’s a real unreliable narrator vibe coming off with every person that talks about bruce (much like how the various members of the titans talked about jason’s motivations) and to buy into crane’s talk about bruce being a psychopath is to fall for the same manipulation that jason fell for. dick is the only person who hasn’t really psychoanalysed bruce this season, and i think some part of his detective brain is piecing things together into a bigger picture.

11. i’m glad kory rescued kom but did she have to kill the scientist?

(i mean, yeah, probably - the less people know that kom escaped the less likely they’re going to have the fucking govt on their doorstep, but still.)

11.5. dick’s gonna come back to wayne manor, stare straight at komand’r and go, well which room would you like? because the team might as well adopt ANOTHER person, yeah?

12. oh MAN that red hood/nightwing fight was AMAZING! and he did the thing! the boomerang escrima thing! i’m so delighted!

12.5. the anger and disbelief in dick’s voice when he says you told crane EVERYTHING?! tells me that he knew exactly what he was telling crane himself.

12.75. “everything you are is because of him” - oh that reminds me of halluci!bruce from last season. i hope we see halluci!bruce again--he is so vicious but so entertaining... so much more effective at tearing dick down than crane or jason combined. goes to show that dick’s biggest enemy is own fucking head.

12.8. oh no! dick’s shot! crane is in the wind with red hood! blackfire is now with the titans! i love it!

honestly this season’s pacing is such a big step up from the last couple. gold star, show.

#titans #titans spoilers #meta #dick grayson #koriand'r #garfield logan #komand'r #conner kent #dawn granger #jason todd #jonathan crane #a byronic cupcake #badass strawberry truffle #manic pixie pop tart #a tragic jalebi

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ultimatebethylficlist · 3 years

Text

Veteran Author of The Month: June 2021

The featured veteran author for June is also a co-admin right here at UBFL: SquishyCool (or @im-immortal )!

SquishyCool can be found on AO3 and FFN under the same penname.

When asked what got her into Bethyl and what the fandom means to her, she said:

I’ve been a hardcore TWD fan since the show began airing, but that’s because of my love for zombies. In all honesty, I didn’t really ship anyone for the first 3-4 seasons. I kind of shipped Daryl with Carol, but then it became clear that it was a platonic relationship and in all honesty, I just wanted to see them both get some action lmao. Then the prison fell... and in those first moments of “Still,” when we see Beth and Daryl running and running and finally collapsing on the ground, breathless and exhausted... the butterflies started. Something clicked and I immediately thought, “uh oh.” The rest is history, especially considering how “Still” and “Alone” played out. I can’t explain how or why I’m still so heavily invested, especially considering my last 2 fandoms only kept my attention for about 2-3 years each, but here I am. And I love it! I am so incredibly grateful for the Bethyl fandom because not only has it helped me improve my writing so much more than I ever could have imagined, but it has also introduced me to some of the most amazing people, including someone who I now consider one of my very best friends! It’s my happy place :)

For her personal fic rec list, she recommends:

In The Maw by ronsparkyspeirs

Way Down We Go by LeathernLaces

Surfacing by lindentree

Wild Things (The Moonshine Poet) by Abelina

The Gift by Feliz

The Man Who Can't Be Moved by burningupasun

New Experiences Series by wallflow3r

Whisper Softly to Me by taylorcatherine

Interstice by leftmywingshome

To Love Like a Man by Seraphique

Death, Death (i defy thee) by alamorn

In My Blood by Courtneyshortney82

Let the Good Times Roll by gutsforgarters

Resolved by Allatariel

the weight of these wings by peachthorns

all my spaces are filled with you by annabeth_writes

A Little Jailbreak with the Little Jailbait by wandering_gypsy_feet

between the beginning and the end by sheriffandsteel

SquishyCool’s Works & Personal Thoughts:

Dirty Fingernails and Dried Blood Summary: What happened during the months between "Still" and "Alone"? Beth uses the last pages of her diary to write down every detail of surviving with Daryl. Thoughts: My first Bethyl fanfic. It holds a special place in my heart for that reason, though it is pretty rough. If I could go back, I never would’ve done it entirely in first-person. But I do plan to finish it one day. There are some scenes I’m particularly proud of, and I still have a long note full of ideas and plot points.

Most Wanted Summary: After Beth’s mother and half-brother are murdered in a drug war, the godly veil on the Greene Family operation is lifted, and law enforcement comes down hard. In an effort to protect her family, Beth commits a heinous crime that could mean life in prison alongside them. Now everyone she’s ever trusted is in police custody and her only chance at freedom is to get as far away from Atlanta as she can... Thoughts: Well, this is a must-read if you like my writing. I hope to one day convert this into an original fiction and maybe get it published, but I need to finish it first LOL. I got the idea from ONE scene of “Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt,” and from there, it exploded into a huge mystery thriller (with lots of romance and smut). I’m really really proud of it, and I’m scared I’ll fuck it up tbh, so I keep putting off continuing it. But I really need to get back to it because I really want people to see what I have planned! (Also, this fic is the reason @courtneyshortney82 started talking to me, so that alone is pretty historic lmao)

The Crow’s Song Summary: Beth and Daryl spend a few more days together in the funeral home and come to terms with all they've lost along the way. But soon, they must decide what comes next. Thoughts: This fic... this fucking fic. It took me a full year to write. I made numerous edits. I even got a little depressed while I was writing the last two chapters, and my bf didn’t know why until he read what I’d been writing lol. It’s honestly the Bethyl fic I’ve always wanted to write but just didn’t know how. I’m still really really proud of how it turned out.

Carnival Games Summary: Daryl is a traveling carnival worker and Beth is a barely legal farmer's daughter looking for a night of fun when the carnival comes to town. Thoughts: Omg this fic is so fun!! One of my first Bethyl fics, and one of my first Bethyl smut fics. Short, sweet, a little funny, and a lot hot. I am still impressed with myself on this one, especially considering how much my writing has improved since lol

Breathe. Please. Summary: Beth shows up at the Hilltop. Alive. Daryl can hardly believe his eyes. Until she's lying in his bed, an arm's reach away. And he can hear her inhaling... exhaling... inhaling... Thoughts: Another “fix-it” that I’m proud of. Tbh I didn’t think it was anything all that special, but a lot of readers have said it’s one of their favorites, and some say they reread it regularly, and nothing makes me happier than hearing that, so I am extremely proud.

picking @ scabs Summary: Sometimes, no matter how much you love someone, being with them just isn't right. But what wouldn't you give for it to be right? Can someone like Daryl learn how to swallow his pride and stop repeating the same mistakes over and over? Can someone like Beth learn to fight off her demons and allow him to get close enough to hurt her again? How can they stay away from each other when it's all too easy to fall back into one another? Picking a scab will leave a scar, but they both have so many scars already... what's a few more? Thoughts: This fic is very, very personal for me. It’s like my “therapy” fic. I have poured some of my deepest feelings and struggles into its chapters, and the whole idea that got me to start it was that I wanted to find a way to navigate and cope with ending my 3-year long relationship with my emotionally/mentally/sometimes physically abusive ex. I still have a lot of fond memories from that relationship, but even more so, I have painful memories. Not to mention, going through your early 20s as a woman in the modern day is a fuckin’ trip, so this kind of explores that. It’s really self-indulgent, I think, but I’m really proud of the smut in it. And more than that, I’m proud of the response. I’ve had a few people message me or comment to say that they’ve felt all those things, or have experienced similar things, and it’s really just... relieving. I put my heart and soul out there, and what I got back was “you’re not alone.” So yeah, this fic is special. I wanna finish it soon, but I have to be in A Mood to do so.

In Toto Corde Summary: Despite a million reasons not to, Beth and Daryl fell in love. Then he made the ultimate sacrifice in order to keep all of his promises. Now, facing unimaginable consequences at the hands of witch hunters, Beth has no choice but to use her powers to bring Daryl back from the dead. "He won't be the same..." Thoughts: I LOVE THIS FIC. I love it so much that I had to rewrite it after like 4 or 5 years. And I already started on a sequel that I really hope I’m able to finish. Though it doesn’t have many hits, and I don’t think many people have read it at all, which I understand since it basically is entirely focused around Daryl being killed. But damn, I’m proud of this one, and it was really fucking fun to write because witch!Beth is just... the best.

risk it all (part 1 of in for a penny, in for a pound) Summary: Daryl Dixon has a pretty decent life, all things considered. He's got his own place. A good dog. A few friends. Even a girlfriend. He keeps himself out of trouble. Until he starts texting Beth Greene. And hell, if he ain't about to risk it all for this damn girl. Thoughts: This was supposed to be one short multichapter fic focused entirely on smut and social media. Then I got on a roll and it ended up being the beginning of a series! This fic is purely fun. Nothing too serious or heavy. I write it when I’m in a Good Mood because it’s my little happy place. I have plans for about 4 more fics before the series will be finished!

Don’t Make Me Haunt You Summary: So here's the thing: Merle Dixon is dead as fuck. And as it turns out, Beth Greene is the only one who can see or hear him. Which is weird considering she's never met or even heard of this guy, let alone anyone with the last name Dixon. That's her first problem... Thoughts: The reception to this fic has absolutely blown me away. I had no idea anyone would want to read about ghost!Merle haunting Beth and forcing her to solve his murder with the help of his grumpy brother. And it was all inspired by an episode of South Park lmao then I started really getting into it and now it’s just like, my super fun fic where I explore a range of emotions and all kinds of religious beliefs and different mythologies and I can build the world however I want and goddamn I just love writing this fic. Plus there’s a podfic for it! I can’t even begin to explain how much I love this fic and how proud I am of it :)

#bethyl fanfiction #veteran author of the month

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anika-ann · 3 years

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The 5 Times Steve Felt Betrayed - Pt.1

and the 1 Time He Felt Like He Was Betraying You

Type: mini-series to a series (part 1 & part 2 & Part 3), Avenger!reader AU.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader, Matt Murdock & reader

Word count (ch1): 2400

Summary: After the fiasco in Nigeria, the world is fed up with dealing with the Avengers’ mess. The Sokovia Accords are invented. It’s understandable that the team is divided.

But Steve would never expect that The Accords would wedge a split between the two of you as well. And he sure as hell wouldn’t expect your disagreement not to end there.

Warnings: mentions of cheating, talk about what happened in Lagos during CA:CW, langauge, angst? (I mean, check out the title)

A/N: So, this mini-series is a part of the Melting Hearts ‘verse and follows the events of CA: Civil War, sometimes only referencing and kinda expecting the readers to knwo what’s up ;) obviously some things will be slightly altered.

Will be posted in double chapters (1st &2nd time, 3th & 4th, 5th+1)

────── ·❆· ──────

1. (Cause & Consequence)

“Our people's blood is spilled on foreign soil. Not only because of the actions of criminals, but by the indifference of those pledged to stop them. Victory at the expense of the innocent… is no victory at all.”

Steve shut the TV down, placing the remote control on the table. His fingers went to massage the bridge of his nose.

It was everywhere – a month after the fiasco in Lagos, they were still talking about it in the news. This time it was the king of Wakanda speaking, questioning the activities of the Avengers team.

And during the past weeks, he had barely been the only one.

Steve was well-aware of their mistakes – of his mistake. The way he had lost it with Rumlow was unforgivable, especially with so many lives lost. Wanda might have been the one to send the exploding man into the building full of civilians, but Steve was watching the source of the tragedy every goddamn day in the mirror.

He had failed to deal with the HYDRA mercenary. Wanda had saved Steve’s life when she removed the burning man out of his reach, accidently blowing up a building. You had tried your best to put out the fire in the building with your powers, but the damage had already been done.

It had been a collective error. But Steve knew that if they hadn’t been in Nigeria in the first place, many more people would die. And it was what he was trying to hold onto, some days handling it better than others.

If the public thought they didn’t feel remorse at what had happened, they were very, oh so very wrong.

He winced when the voice of the reporter he had just shut down evaded his ears again, and frowned.

He knew it couldn’t be you – you weren’t home, which was just another thing to make him feel like crap. You were spending a lot of time away lately – Steve couldn’t help but wondering if it was his fault too, if he had driven you away with his dark thoughts.

And then there were moments when he wasn’t sure if it wasn’t simply you not being able to look at him, not seeing him in the same light as you had used to when you had said yes to his proposal.

Were you gone because you were judging him for freezing at Bucky’s name? For not handling the situation? He couldn’t help but feel a little betrayed. Loving someone… it shouldn’t be about expecting something back, but… after all the support he gave you whenever you were struggling? He thought you would be there for him.

But maybe it was just too much for you, dealing with yourself and comforting him at the same time – it would only confirm his theory about you feeling guilty for some of the victims.

However… why wouldn’t you try to deal with your own feelings with Steve? He was hundred percent sure you thought you could have done more, be there sooner, hell, stop the explosion yourself. He knew you felt like it was your failure as much as his and Wanda’s – or at least he believed so.

But why were you seeking shelter somewhere else? He was your fiancé – a person you had agreed to spend the rest of your life with – so why weren’t you with him in a time like this? Your relationship had been very intimate from the very beginning after all, only blossoming into more with time.

So why had you gone to see another man again? He couldn’t help the nagging pang of betrayal and jealousy. You always said you needed to see Matt Murdock. How could it not get into his very core and wound him there? Especially when after those meetings with Matt, you always seemed restless, jumping at the slightest of sounds, often escaping to the gym, claiming you needed few more moments alone.

“I’m sorry,” you would always say, a regretful smile on your lips, your gaze avoiding his. “I just… I guess I just need to hit something and I don’t want you to see me like that.”

And then you would hug him, kiss his cheek gently, sometimes pressing your lips to his for a split second and you’d be gone. Truth to your words, you would always come back exhausted, but somewhat calmer and offering affection with more urgency than usual to make up for the lost time.

Steve had no idea what to think about that or how to approach the matter.

What he knew he could do, however, was to walk into Wanda’s room and turn off her goddamn TV, because he was sure the voice was coming from there – no one had watched the news with more intensity than her, always coming after any new bits about the incident in Lagos so she could torture herself.

That girl was way too much like you.

“It’s my fault,” she stated when she acknowledged his presence. It was hard not to, since he had turned off the broadcast.

“That’s not true.”

“Turn the TV back on. They’re being very specific.”

“Well, what they say on TV is a load of— stupid things. We both know that I should have handled the situation way before you had to intervene. People died. And unlike what they say on the news – that’s on me,” he said, heavily seating himself next to her on her bed.

She gave him a sorrowful smile. “Well. I guess it’s on both of us.”

And not on the three of us, Steve’s mind supplied helpfully in an instant and he sighed at the intrusive voice in the back of his head.

“She’s out again. I’m sorry. She’s taking it pretty hard, especially considering it wasn’t her fault at all,” Wanda offered gently and Steve mentally cursed at the mind-reader slash empath slash million other things. “She’s afraid too. She worries for you, because of the way the mission affected you. But she’s not blaming you.”

Steve eyed her, meeting her honest gaze full of compassion.

“Well, she could say that by herself, but she won’t. Instead…”

“You know… she was very fast at learning how to build a wall in her head to shield her thoughts from me. I can’t read her mind… but I can always tell there’s a lot on it when she comes back,” the Sokovian informed him and Steve stiffened.

Yeah, that was exactly the thing he did not want to hear.

“The thing is… she’s terrible at hiding her emotions. I… I’m not gonna pretend I don’t know what crosses your mind from time to time, I don’t need to read thoughts for that, or emotions. But I can tell you that she only has feelings for you, Steve. Her heart – it’s always with you. She’s carrying it on her sleeve, but it’s yours. You got yourself a good woman, Captain. A troubled one, sure,” she chuckled softly, apparently pleased she felt Steve’s relief. And relieved he was; you weren’t cheating on him. You weren’t thinking about cheating on him. You still loved him. You didn’t blame him. It was as if he could breathe again, indescribable weight falling off him. “But a loyal one and good one.”

Steve covered her hand with his, determined to sooth her as well. “Well. I knew from the beginning that you two were too much alike.”

“Thank you, Steve,” she smiled at him softly and Steve wished he wasn’t imagining the slightest relief in her eyes as well.

“No, Wanda. Thank you.”

────── ·❆· ──────

2. (Empty Promises)

The Sokovia Accords. A miraculous solution to the problem of the uncontrollable bunch of (mostly) superhumans that hold no responsibility for their action.

Go. To. Hell.

Steve wanted to burn the hundreds-pages document to ashes. It was nonsense. The document just shifted the blame to someone else and wanted to put all of them in check; in a way Steve didn’t like at all.

As long as he remembered, all he wanted was to do good – to serve his country, sure, but mainly to serve the people in it, serve a good purpose. And this regulation went straight against it. Hell, it went against the promise he had once made to the man who gave him the power to fight for a good cause, because he had thought Steve could value it. And he did. He heard Doctor Erskine’s voice as clearly as if he was sitting on the opposite bed at the Camp Lehigh, the night before the procedure.

‘Promise me, that you will stay who you are. Not a perfect soldier – but a good man.’

Being a perfect soldier meant obeying orders and not thinking twice it they meant doing the right thing or not. Being a good man meant standing for what he believed was good with his whole heart.

Signing this peace of— paper would go against everything he believed in.

“We’re not perfect, but the safest hands are still our own,” Steve finished the argumentation and that said it all.

He looked up at Tony with intense glare, his blue eyes gleaming with severity. The air felt too heavy to breathe, the silence itself weighting a ton.

It was your timid voice that cut it in the end and what you said made Steve’s heart ache.

“That’s not something all of us can say about themselves, Steve.”

His attention shifted to you, his lips parting at the well-known expression on your face. His shoulders slumped with a sigh.

Apparently, he had been right about Nigeria – you did feel guilty. And the beginning of your new life with powers had branded you forever as well; this was just another prove of that. A scar for life – the way you saw yourself after killing the scientists on accident, it was affecting you every goddamn minute of your existence and some were just more difficult than others.

“No matter the mistakes we have made, the lives lost on our watch – it doesn’t outweigh the good we’re doing,” he opposed you gently before turning back to Tony to make a point. “The good we might not be able to do if we sign.”

The billionaire huffed. “If we don’t do this now, it will be done to us later. That’s a fact. And it won’t be pretty.”

“You say they’ll come for me,” Wanda stated with scary steadiness to her voice and all eyes snapped to her.

“We would protect you.”

For some reason, Steve’s gut twisted at Vision’s measured voice. A discussion started all over again and Steve was slowly losing the grasp on who was on which side. He glanced your direction as you were observing the fighting team quietly, a troubled expression on your face – the very same he had seen all too often, every time you had come back to the compound.

With sudden urge to comfort you, he rose to his feet and made his way to you. It was when his phone vibrated in his pocket, announcing the worst possible news.

Peggy Carter had just died.

“I gotta go.”

────── ·❆· ──────

You had gone to London with him, together with Sam. It was… difficult. Soul-crashing. Steve knew that this day would come, possibly very soon, but it hit him like a train, the blow knocking him to the ground.

The blows just kept coming and Steve would love to make a cheeky comment about him being able to do that all day, but this beating was hitting him on places that really, really hurt and he couldn’t bear it. He cried when he carried the casket. He didn’t have the capacity to feel ashamed for it.

God knew you had been there for him as a silent support the whole time; even when he was shamelessly staring at the woman he knew as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and she introduced herself as Sharon Carter. Peggy’s niece.

To be fair, it wasn’t just the revelation of her relation to Peggy or her appearance – it was her, quoting an amazingly strong and inspirational woman, who had, just like Steve, always only wanted to do the right thing. It moved him in a way he wouldn’t be able to put into words if anyone asked him to do so.

You had given him a moment alone only when he had asked for it – you had left the church with everyone else.

It surprised him when he heard the door opening again after what could be a minute; but it wasn’t you. It was Natasha. Bringing up the issue of The Sokovia Accords that Steve had backburned without even realizing it.

His opinion hadn’t changed and he refused to leave to Vienna with Natasha. It was when you replaced her in the otherwise empty church, approaching him slowly and timidly, when he realized that you were about to that though.

“You’re coming with her,” he stated, unable to keep the bitterness off his tone.

Just another punch into his solar plexus. Sure. He could do this all day.

Your smaller hand caught his, for once warmer than his own despite the cold air of the church. Your eyes were on his too, searching in his face. He didn’t have the strength to hide anything from you now.

“Unless you want me to… no, not now. I don’t need to sign publicly – I’m a long way from Black Widow’s popularity and fame.”

“You know that’s not true,” he opposed wryly, too weak to snatch your hand away.

It felt too heavy against his, almost foreign; he hadn’t known if you had made up your mind and decided to sign, not until that moment, not for sure. Now he did. Yet, there was a comfort he was seeking in your touch, because it was something that always helped to calm him down, ground him. He was vainly chasing after the feeling now.

Sensing his struggle, you hesitantly brought your hand up to cup his cheek; on instinct more than anything else, he leaned into the touch, closing his eyes. Your thumb skimmed over his skin, affectionate, giving.

“And you know I don’t need an audience,” you whispered. “I… I can’t imagine what you’re going through, Steve. I want to be here for you, if you want as well. Work can wait.”

Your words, your touch, your affection – it should all bring him peace, but it just wasn’t coming. His first true love had left this world, left him, and now it felt like you were leaving him too – leaving him behind and betraying an oath you had premised when you let him slip an engagement ring on your finger.

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Part 2 (the third and the fourth time)

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Thank you for reading!

I decided to post it here on tumblr in double-chapters, because they would be reatively short otherwise... but posting it as one monster chapter would be a bit much... I think.

Have a good start of your week!

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bestworstcase · 3 years

Text

farran rereads lost lagoon: chapters 9-10

it’s been a hot minute! previous installments here, in case you’d like to refresh your memory first.

- this chapter opens with rapunzel observing that cassandra is angry and concluding, correctly, that it’s because rapunzel followed her. i think this is a very interesting choice for howland to make. tts rapunzel is not like this. she often, particularly in s1, fails to notice when cass is frustrated with her and is startled when that frustration erupts into anger after repeated pushing. she is also generally quite bad at linking cause and effect together like this; she might recognize that cass is angry, but miss why. she stomps all over cassandra’s boundaries in large part because she doesn’t know any better. she can’t see how her behavior is hurting cass. but lagoon rapunzel does know better. she’s far more emotionally intuitive, and she can see right away that sticking her nose into cassandra’s business upsets cass, yet she will continue to do it. part of me wonders if this change is to facilitate the character growth lagoon rapunzel gets (which tts rapunzel does not)? it’s much easier, after all, to fix poor behavior if you’re able to see how it’s hurting people you care about.

- rapunzel here also observes that cassandra’s “eyes were wide and vulnerable,” indicating how afraid cass was of the water situation. cass denies that she was afraid when rapunzel asks her. this has a lot of similarities to how cass acts in fanon, cassunzel fanon in particular—outright denying her feelings, even when rapunzel accurately identifies them. and i know i’m beating a dead horse here, but tts cass is not like this. tts cass readily expresses her feelings to rapunzel—except when she thinks rapunzel isn’t willing to listen to her. in COTB, her reticence with rapunzel comes on the heels of rapunzel doing something cassandra pleaded with her not to do. in RATGT, rapunzel outright tells her to ‘be okay with’ the way rapunzel treats her, and in RDO cass bottles up her feelings and refuses to talk until rapunzel forces her to. actively hiding her feelings is a behavior she develops after becoming friends with rapunzel, because rapunzel continually dismisses or ignores her feelings. this is probably not the last time i am going to harp on this over the course of this little reread. it’s a huge pet peeve of mine.

- re: romance novel: “I hadn’t seen Eugene since the night before. After Cassandra left my room, I sent Pascal to follow her. I instructed him to come get me if she went anywhere.” ksdkjf

- cassandra, of course, wants the lagoon to be their—or rather, ideally, her—little secret, because she’s decided this is the thing that will prove she’s ready for the guard. her approach to getting rapunzel on board with this secret-keeping is to imply that frederic and arianna might compromise corona’s national security if they are informed. i think this is very funny.

- (again, contrast this to what happens in tts: when cass begs rapunzel to keep their midnight excursion a secret, she explains her reasoning in detail, because tts cass knows how to communicate like an adult.)

- “It’s so…blue” jksdfl cass has a way with words huh

- i do not think ms howland knows what a lagoon is, because what she is describing is absolutely not a lagoon. it appears to be a cenote. i suppose ‘rapunzel and the lost cenote’ doesn’t quite have the same ring to it, though, does it?

- cassandra reveals that she doesn’t know how to swim. i will get into this in a moment.

- corona has 315 miles of coastline, according to ms. howland. for purposes of comparison, rhode island has around 380 miles of coastline. now! in addition to those three hundred odd miles of coastline, corona has 212 lakes, 121 ponds, 67 rivers, of which 17 are significant in size and let out into the sea. with some cursory research i haven’t been able to get a precise count of the number of freshwater bodies of water there are in rhode island, but wikipedia tells me that about 90% of the inland freshwater in the state is contained in 237 lakes and ponds, which is a bit less than corona’s 333 total lakes and ponds, so… assuming the other 10% of rhode island’s inland freshwater is contained in a few dozen smaller lakes and ponds, those numbers are quite close as well. and according to wikipedia, rhode island has 59 rivers, of which 17 are ‘considered major rivers either geographically or historically.’

there is not really a point to this digression except that i think it is interesting. rhode island is 1,214 square miles in size and based on the general closeness of these numbers i have decided to tentatively conclude that corona is meant to be roughly similar in size. let’s call it a nice even 1,250 square miles for the sake of ease and to account for the greater number of lakes and ponds.

this is quite a bit larger than the kingdom appears to be in tts—unless the kingdom is very lopsided and island city is situated within a couple dozen miles of the nearest border—but it’s also quite small for a country. (europe has a few very small microstates and city-states, but excluding those, the smallest country in europe is almost twice the size of rhode island).

for my own writing, i decided that corona was quite a bit larger than this—bitter snow corona is in the neighborhood of 13,125 square miles, of which about ⅓ was formerly saporia and another ¼ is the disputed territory/province of malinar, meaning saporia is/was about 4,375 square miles, malinar is about 3,288 square miles, and pre-conquest corona would have been about 5,462 square miles—but, if you’re writing fanfiction and looking for an approximate ‘canon’ size for corona, 1,250 sq miles is not a bad guess. just remember that that big old wall rapunzel’s so eager to get to the other side of has to be within about twenty miles of the island capital in order for horses to be able to comfortably get there and back in less than a day! so either the island has to be very near the nearest border, or the wall isn’t actually corona’s border but rather a defensive wall around the capital or something like that.

- now back to cassandra, and the matter of her inability to swim. i think, given that they live on an island and the generally high standards to which he holds his daughter, it beggars belief a little that the captain did not force the issue of her learning how. it’s a safety matter. if you live near water you need to be able to swim. but, fine, she has a phobia, whatever. it’s for the romance novel™

- but i hate this. i hate it. ms. howland expects me to believe that:

1 - cassandra hasn’t been in swimming lessons since she could walk

2 - cassandra’s phobia was so severe that the captain never forced the issue of her learning to swim, while living on an island

3 - rapunzel magically knows how to swim, because the three or four minutes she spent almost drowning in a slowly flooding cave and then being spat out into a river and dragged to the bank by eugene was sufficient for her to become a great swimmer.

4 - all it takes for cassandra to overcome her debilitating phobia of water is for rapunzel to spend maybe ten or fifteen minutes gently coaxing her into the water and teaching her how to tread water

5 - swimming in the lagoon with rapunzel then becomes one of cassandra’s most treasured pastimes, and

6 - merely a few months after this, cassandra is a strong enough swimmer to (in fitzherbert pi) DIVE INTO THE FUCKING OCEAN FULLY DRESSED WITH HER BOOTS ON in order to rescue shorty before he drowns.

and NO!!!!!! NO! THAT’S NOT HOW SWIMMING WORKS THAT’S NOT HOW ANYTHING WORKS!!

now i get it. i get it. this is a romance novel and the symbolism of rapunzel liberating cassandra from her fears and teaching her a valuable new skill that they bond over and becomes their shared special secret thing to do together is obviously powerful and a staple trope for the genre. but it makes so little sense for this to be a skill that rapunzel has but cassandra does not. it feels almost infantalizing of cassandra and aggrandizing of rapunzel. like… rapunzel is an exceptionally competent young woman, yes. but no she can’t fucking swim you can’t learn to swim from that one time you almost drowned in a FUCKING cave. fuck!

- i’m still on the first page of chapter 10 and i am steamed.

- “It’s amazing how fast you can pick something up when your life depends on it.” FUCK you, ms. howland. you don’t learn how to turn sommersalts or swim laps by almost drowning. at most you might teach yourself how to doggy paddle.

- this scene would have worked just as goddamn well on the romance novel front if cass were the one who knew how to swim and rapunzel desperately wanted to learn and made big sad puppy eyes until cass caved and agreed to teach her. like! ffs you could even squeeze in the phobia stuff - rapunzel freaks out when she gets to a certain depth because it throws her back to being in that cave and cass, who has plenty of experience dealing with her own panic attacks, is able to gently calm her down.

- but that would require ms. howland to allow rapunzel to be bad at something. grumble.

- i don’t think rapunzel is qualified to give cass exposure therapy.

- this is nitpicky but i’m annoyed. this is not how you clean plate armor. “First you hang your suit of armor up to make sure every piece is properly aligned and that there’s no rust” WHAT? it’s not… like, it’s not like a onesie. plate armor is a bunch of individual components tied or buckled to an arming doublet or, in some cases, to other pieces of plate. you can’t ‘hang up’ a suit of plate armor the way you’d hang up, like, a jacket. you can put the pieces together on an arming doublet that you’ve hung up on a dummy, but… why would you do that in order to clean it.

“Then you attach the foot coverings” gjksdfjk just… the mental image of cassandra painstakingly putting a suit of armor together on a fucking mannequin and buckling the sabatons to the greaves or what the fuck ever she means by this and trying to clean the set that way is destroying me

“Then you need to polish the chest plate, with a soft cloth, work in circles, going outward” okay yes but you’d do the cuirrass separate from the rest of the set and you’d do the inside too and cass ought to know the proper name for all of these pieces please it’s not hard

“The arms can be tricky because the joints” WHAT. for arms you’ve got, like, a pauldron (or spaulder and rondel), rerebrace, couter, vambrace, gauntlets. these are separate pieces. you clean them one at a time, inside and outside. does howland think you just… don’t need to clean the inside of a set of plate armor? does she think the inside isn’t just as if not more susceptible to rust as the outside? does… does she realize that you can take plate armor apart i am CONFOUNDED

WHAT is a “mouth cover” in this context. is she refering to a visor. hinged pieces like on an armet? does she mean a bevor? the bevor isn’t even part of the helmet aljksdflkjsfdj

cassandra refers to cuisses and greaves as “thigh plates” and “shin [plates]” respectively i’m die. she also completely skips the poleyns. i do not think this cass has ever cleaned a suit of plate armor in her entire life.

i am losing. my. mind.

- in the immediate aftermath of cass learning how to tread water i think rapunzel asks her more personal questions than she does in the entirety of tts itself. like, it’s almost jarring how much more interested both rapunzel and eugene are in cassandra as a person in this book than they seem to be in tts. compare this conversation to the way cass opens up to rapunzel in beginnings - here, it’s prompted by rapunzel asking questions, expressing interest in cassandra’s feelings and encouraging her by telling her she’s brave. in beginnings, rapunzel builds a pillow fort in cass’s room because she wants to force a bonding moment and cass, after initially trying to kick her out, relents and volunteers some personal information as a kind of apology for being hostile. the vibes are completely different, so different that it feels like i’m not even reading about the same characters.

- like can you imagine tts rapunzel saying something like “it’s your story, that makes it important” to cass? lmao

- cass reveals that she’s afraid of water because she got dragged out by the undertow at the beach when she was small, and her dad saved her and then got so mad at her that she remembers being as afraid of him as she was of the water. this is not unrealistic per se, but… if cassandra was as scared of her dad that day as she was of drowning, then… shouldn’t that have more of an impact on her relationship with him? like…he screams at her after she almost drowns and she walks away with this debilitating phobia of the water but zero lingering fear of him?

- this chapter has given me a headache

- re: romance novel: “Rapunzel gripped my hand. This time I didn’t flinch.” snrk.

#lost lagoon reread #rta #cassunzel #i know it's juv fic i KNOW but i -#the plate armor thing it kills me

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weepingvoidpenguin · 4 years

Text

The Gods’ Blessing (Pt. 5)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4,

Summary: In your world, everyone had a soulmate. That’s just how things went. Everyone had some sort of Indicator that their other half was out there, be it telepathy or a red string that connected these two strangers. Yours was one unspoken of, in fact, you’d never heard anyone say that they had the same Indicator as you. And because of this rarity, you longed to meet the person who could gift you with what you lacked, maybe not so much so to be with the person but more so to finally see what others took for granted. Yet, you held onto the hope that one of your best friends was your Meant-To-Be but he has his eyes on another girls and the little green monster slowly engulfs you at the deterioration of your hope.

Warning: Like 1 F-Bomb, angst, reader being reckless

Word Count: 4.3K

Author’s Note: I’m literally so sorry this took so long to come out but I lost motivation to write and randomly got it back and now I know where I want to take this story so I’m dedicating some time to this series again. ALSO I wanted to thank EVERYONE from the bottom of my heart who has asked to be tagged or complimented my writing it means SO MUCH and helps me continue to write. Everyone who has requested to be tagged will be; I’m just dumb and didn’t know I could privately respond to asks and I didn’t want to spam my page with answers so... yeah I know, I’m dumb lol ENJOY

(CAN SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME HOW TO FIND THE ORIGINAL GIF FOR MY STORY BECAUSE WTF I SPENT LITERALLY 30 MINUTES LOOKING FOR THE RIGHT ONE BUT COULDN’T FIND IT AND I USED THE SAME TAGS AS ALWAYS AND YES THE GIFS ARE STILL THERE SOMEONE HELP PLS AND THANK YOU) (AND ALSO LITERALLY CAN’T ADD A READ MORE LINE BECAUSE I COPY AND PASTE FROM WORD SO IM SORRY TUMBLR IS JUST TRYING ME TODAY)

You let the thunderous knocks at your door rack for nearly five minutes before you trudged out of bed with your blanket still encased around you. You kept your eyes glued to your carpet, watching as your feet slid along the floor on your way to the door. Your hand hovered over the knob as hesitation ceased your actions.

What if it was Peter at your door? Your heart twisted at the thought and you couldn’t stop how your hand shot out and grasped the handle. Damn how your body could betray you.

You noticed how your actions slowly became less your own over the past few days. Naturally, you could sit, lay, stand, eat, drink and etc. on command but whenever the thought of the brunette boy shattered its way through the walls you’d created, your hands flew towards your phone every single time. You had desired Peter, desired for him to reach out to you and clear the air, answer the questions consuming your mind, just talk to you in any way. Maybe his words wouldn’t make you feel better but at least his voice would soothe the storm brewing in your stomach.

You had skipped school the last two days, claiming to have a fever to your mother who, as a doctor, knew better. But she was an understanding woman and gave you the time she suspected you needed to deal with whatever was bothering you. She’d tried to get you to talk but each attempt was met with silence and isolation so she left you be, only occasionally leaving a warm drink on your nightstand.

You hadn’t just isolated yourself from your mother though; you’d completely disregarded the messages you were getting from MJ and Ned. You tried to keep away from your phone, in all honesty. You wanted to disconnect, to just feel what you felt and ride the wave until the waters soothed themselves. But with the amount of times you’d checked your inbox for a new message from Peter or merely went back to read old texts that used to bring a smile to your face, you’d say disconnecting had failed miserably. In fact, every time you checked your phone only made the sinking feeling in your stomach liven with a fresh ache and you’d lay right back down.

Your window remained locked now. For the most part. Some nights, for about an hour or so, you’d unlatch it, idiotically hoping that somehow Peter would be aware of your actions and know that you, in a moment of weakness, wanted to see him again. That your silent invitation had been noticed and he would come running to you. But, of course, it didn’t work like that.

You were released from the deep constraints of your thoughts with another set of rapping on the door. You sighed and brought yourself to look through the peephole only to be met with an eye already glaring through it. You let out a quiet shriek at the expression strewn about MJ’s face and slowly unlocked the door.

She didn’t wait for you to open it though, taking matters into her own hands and flinging the entryway open to storm through and slam shut behind her. You stood frozen, watching as she glowered with her arms crossed over her chest. You two stood in silence like that for a few moments and she continued to stare, waiting for you to give an explanation for your behavior for the past few days.

She knew better than to think you were sick. Even when you were sick you always messaged her back but this mood was something she had yet to experience in all her years of friendship with you.

“So?” She practically snarled and you gulped.

You scanned her up and down. She was entirely on the defense here. Her arms crossed, foot tapping on the ground and the disapproving look of the century plastered on her face all scrambled together to serve you one very pissed off MJ.

She waited for a response, not breaking her composure for even a fraction of a second. The anger radiating off her body was more than you could handle in the moment, especially when it was accompanied with the sorrow encasing your very being.

Her expression softened in the slightest as she studied you, noting how you couldn’t meet her gaze, not that it had been a warm one to begin with but still. Your hair was in shambles and the deep, dark circles under your eyes conveyed more than you were willing to bring yourself to admit. And when you finally looked up at her she took your desperate embrace with ease; all of her anger diminishing as she held you.

“Hey,” She soothed, running her hand up and down your back through the blanket, “what’s going on?”

You looked up at her, only slightly pulling back from the hug, “There’s something I have to tell you,” ~ That first day that you had kicked Peter out of your apartment he didn’t go on patrol that night. He was too distraught. Instead, he trudged home with his head hung low and his thoughts drowning him in regret.

He’d been weak that afternoon. He couldn’t help it. It’d been so long since you two had hung out together alone, aside from the rare occasion last week, and so much had happened within that time.

That first night, when the two of you kissed and the stars had come to life for the first time in his existence, everything in those few moments had been perfect; no, better than perfect. The world had burst to life under your touch and suddenly his years of yearning and longing for you had made sense. The world had been right and just for once. For one goddamn minute.

And then, because of that moment that he hungered to relive again, he’d lost you. Maybe permanently.

How could he have been so stupid? How could he have just given in to the desire pining for your touch? He couldn’t have helped it. The way you looked, the smile gleaming on your face, the way you were straddling and hovering above him; it all called out to him. You called out to him. His eyes traced down from your eyes to your neck and then lower to the bit of exposed cleavage in his face. He blushed in the moment, feeling guilty for letting his mind wander to those treacherous places that caused his imagination to spiral. And, oh, how his thoughts spiraled.

That need to touch you, to hold you, to kiss you, to be with you had made him weak in the moment. But had it really been so wrong to give in? After all, you are his soulmate and if it were okay to touch anyone the way his body had urged him to, why not the person that he was meant for and was meant for him?

No, it hadn’t wrong to give in because from the look that glazed your eyes and elicited your body when you connected, he knew you wanted to give in too. He knew you wanted to be with him just as much as he wanted to be with you.

And that’s why he wanted to go over that day. He had planned to tell you everything. He even had his suit in his backpack to show you but then it all went wrong. He’d prematurely exposed the truth but in a way that made it seem secretive. He hadn’t meant to be secretive; he was just scared.

Plus, he finally had the girl he’d been working to get for the past few months and he had to just throw that all away. At that point, his feeling for Liz were real just miniscule compared to the ones he attempted to drown out for you. Not to mention, Liz liked Peter as he was without the hero complex but (Y/N) liked Spider-Man, a literal superhero.

Maybe that had been the reason that (Y/N) had kicked him out so quickly. Was she disappointed that her mysterious hero had turned out to be none other than Peter Parker? Was being Peter really that bad in her eyes? No, (Y/N) loved Peter . . . platonically.

But Liz . . . Liz liked Peter, not Spider-Man. (Y/N) didn’t want her shy best friend, she wanted her mysterious hero. (Y/N) didn’t like Peter for who he was, only who he presented himself to be. Her feelings were solely based on a hidden character under the red and blue suit. She didn’t want Peter Parker. She couldn’t want Peter Parker. Peter Parker wasn’t enough for her and he never would be.

He shook his head at the thoughts, hating how his conclusion could tug at his chest so fiercely. Nonetheless, he let himself fester on that idea until it became his mentality.

(Y/N) was not interested in Peter. ~ You could hardly communicate everything that had happened over the course of the last few weeks to MJ with all the tears and sobs interrupting the story. She caught onto the gist of it, though. Peter was Spider-Man, Spider-Man was her soulmate, Peter was with Liz, etc.

She let you cry until you fell asleep that night and she stayed with you the next day so she could force you to go to school, even if it was Friday.

Her alarm woke you up the next morning and you groaned as you shoved your pillow over your ear to drown out the sound. MJ rolled around, cutting the alarm off and cuddling closer to you before shoving you out of bed.

“What the hell?” You asked, reaching out for the pillow that was pried from your hold.

MJ held the cushion just out of your reach and dangled it in the air, “Good morning!” She cheerily shouted, very unlike herself.

You groaned in response and shoved the blanket over your head just for that to be ripped away as well. “Get up, you’re coming to school,”

A huff escaped your lips as the sunlight shone even from behind closed eyelids. You wanted to argue and stay home but you would just get hell for it and end up going to school anyway so you used that time of argument to get ready instead. MJ had woken you up early enough to let you shower, as you hadn’t recently, and made breakfast while you got ready.

In the stillness of your room, you observed your reflection in the mirror. Your eyes were still puffy from the crying and there was a slight dry rash from wiping your nose so much but other than that, you looked practically normal. You ran your hands down your body, hating that you put in a little extra effort in your looks to catch Peter’s attention. In the midst of shamefully admiring yourself, you caught a glimpse of the pictures tacked onto the wall behind you. You whirled around and your gaze landed on the brightest of them all. A picture of the four of you sitting in the grass, MJ on one side of you and Peter on the other. You removed the tack from the photo and smiled down at it. The picture had been taken the first time you all hung out together, the same day you’d told MJ about your feelings for Peter only to be met with a knowing look from her. She could read you like a book that woman.

“Hey, breakfast is ready-” MJ burst through the door and cut herself off at the sight of you. “What’s that?”

“Do you remember this photo?” You asked, holding it up for her to see. Her eyes softened and she had a small smile, “I have this same picture in a drawer somewhere,”

“Do you remember what I told you that day?”

MJ looked up at you, her eyebrows furrowed as she waited for an explanation.

“That’s the day I told you that I thought I liked Peter,” She looked down at the photo and handed it back to you, “It’s like . . . since the beginning it’s been him. It’s always been him.” You placed the photo back in its original place, “And now I know why,”

Later that day in the cafeteria, the table had been full of tension. MJ throwing glares at Peter, Peter brushing them off his shoulder, your head crammed into a textbook, Ned trying to break the tension and Liz having no idea what the hell was going on.

“You guys are so cute together,” MJ cheerily spoke up after a while, looking at Peter and Liz’s interlocked fingers.

“Thanks,” Peter stated bluntly, his gaze fixated on MJ.

“I just didn’t think you would end up dating a guy like that, Liz, but now that I’m looking at it, it makes sense,”

“A guy like what?” Liz raised an eyebrow, concerned there was something about Peter that she didn’t know.

“A liar-”

“MJ, can you help me with this equation?” You interjected, hoping she hadn’t heard what MJ said.

“I don’t know why you’d need my help, you’re the best one here at math,” she slyly retorted, not once breaking her eye contact with Peter.

“I’ll help you,” Ned spoke up and the both of you exchanged worried glances. It suddenly dawned on you that Ned probably already knows Peter’s secret; which means, he already knew about you as well.

“Anyway,” Liz spoke up after a few tense moments of silence, “I’m throwing a party tonight at my place, everyone’s invited!”

“And why would we-”

“Sounds fun! We’ll be there!” You spoke up quickly, glaring at MJ to shut her up. She rolled her eyes but sat back in her chair and complied.

You’d kept your head down for most of the lunch period but had to snap your attention up to keep MJ tamed. Your gaze wandered over to the direction you felt a pull coming from and was surprised when you met Peter’s gaze. You were almost frozen, caught in a mixture of crying, panicking and keeping it together. Still, you couldn’t pry your attention from Peter so you dwelled in it instead.

He looked tired. The dark circles under his eyes were more apparent than usual and his hair appeared to lack a bit of life, the curls on his face falling flat rather than their normal bounciness. You let yourself study the man before you and that’s when it happened again.

Instead of his normal physique, an outline of his person took form and the wounds on his body glowed to catch your attention. He had a few cuts and scrapes here and there, some bruises on his shins and forearms, not to mention the busted eyebrow that you’d failed to notice under what you assumed was makeup. You squinted your eyes at this and Peter seemed to catch on to what was happening. He grew uncomfortable under your gaze and forced yourself to retract it, fighting the urge to reach out your hand and place it over the split skin on his face. Not that he’d appreciate it.

You sighed and closed the textbook before shoving it in your bag and standing up seconds before the bell rang. MJ followed suit and walked you to your next class, knowing you usually take the route with Peter and punched your shoulder lightly when it was time for her to go.

“Meet at my locker after school? I need help picking an outfit and we can stop by your place to pick some stuff up,”

MJ nodded in agreement and you turned to enter the classroom but walked into a hastily walking Peter. You reached out your hand to steady yourself and grabbed his forearm which, unfortunately, was not covered in fabric.

The warmth in your fingertips soon sprawled all over your body and you could moan at the ease it brought along with it. The ache in your heart subsided and the strength of the pull towards him tripled until you really were being shoved against him, your chest pressed against his own and his arms wrapped around you as if to keep you there.

You wanted to pull away but the fact that Peter was even holding you right now soothed the agony in your bones and you needed this for just a few seconds more. You let the sensation overtake you, submitting yourself to its enticing comfort and when Peter’s hands gripped the back of your shirt tighter to pull you deeper into him, you let him.

This was right. Being with him was right. How could it not be? How could being with your soulmate be wrong? The two of you were literally made for each other as were all soulmates but there resided something deeper between both of you that caused a very physical gravitational pull to one another. Though you’d heard of instances similar to that, you’d never heard of it being physical, only an emotional pull. And that physical pull somehow forced you two into each other’s arms where you were fighting the urge to give in.

With the little strength that you could muster, you pried yourself from him and you exchanged a worried glance with each other, “Did you-”

“Feel that? Yeah,” he said, bewildered at what just happened.

“So, you didn’t-”

“Pull you? No. And you didn’t-”

“Suddenly forgive you and throw myself into your arms?” You spoke with venom and cocked your head to the side, the little distance between you allowing some of your anger to return. “No,”

Peter wanted to roll his eyes and brush off the comment, he really did but he could see through you. The pain you tried to hide was laid barren for him, he couldn’t miss it if he tried. It shouted for his attention, demanding his explanation and wanting nothing more than to dissipate and leave you at peace. But he couldn’t grant you that. He couldn’t bring himself to beg for you when you didn’t even want him; at least, not the real him.

You finally walked away and took your usual seat in class, forcing your gaze down so you wouldn’t accidentally make eye contact with Peter as he took his place next you. You chuckled at that. ~ Liz’s house buzzed with energy, most of the people already arrived and under some kind of influence. You had to give it to her, she knew how to throw a party. Not that you’d been to very many of them considering MJ was your best friend.

MJ appeared beside you with two cups in her hand and offered you one, “Oh, I figured you were going to chug them down simultaneously,”

“Don’t tempt me.” She laughed and you took a gulp from yours, finishing it off in a few seconds, “Maybe you would like to do that, though,”

You smiled sheepishly, “I’m gonna get another one,”

“Make sure you leave some for everybody else,” she hollered over the music.

You giggled and sauntered over to the table, ignoring the beginnings of a lure coming from your left. You plucked one of the cups up and brought the brim to your lips, letting the liquid burn its way down your throat and rejoined MJ.

“Hey, so I was thinking,” you started, keeping your focus anywhere other than where it wanted to be, “where did you hear that story about the gods and the stars and all that?”

“Huh?” She shouted over the music and despite the volume of the noise, you could still filter out Peter’s voice through it all.

You grabbed MJ’s arm and pulled her towards the door, “Outside!” You shouted and she followed.

Once the fresh breeze hit your face, you took a deep breath in, attempting to clear out any negative emotions. MJ took your hand and led you away from the front of the house where quite a few people were still crowding around and settled on the rooftop. She grabbed a ladder off the floor and held the ladder while you climbed up.

“What were you trying to say?” She asked once you two had gotten comfortable.

“I was asking about where you heard the story about being chosen by the Gods,” you stated, taking a sip from the cup and already feeling a slight warmth in your cheeks. This cup was definitely stronger than the previous one.

She cocked her head a little and raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“You know! About the Gods’ choosing a few special spirits to have this intense love or something,”

“What are you talking about?”

“Like, about my Indicator and the stars and my soulmate,”

Her eyebrow remained raised in your direction.

Now it was your turn to get confused, “The story you told me when we were all at your house watching movies. The day I went on the first date with Brad,”

“Dude, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she admitted, a concerned look on her face.

“Yes, you do! You’re the one that told me that story, how could you not remember it?” you practically yelled. “When I got mad because of Liz and Peter and went to your room, that’s when you told me!”

“I remember you being bothered but I figured you needed a breather so I let you have it,”

Was it MJ that had told you? You scoffed, yes, of course it was. Who else would it be? She was the one that walked into the room and comforted you. “MJ, stop playing,” you scolded.

“(Y/N) . . . are you feeling okay?” she asked and you glared at her in response. “Dude, I swear I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

You shot up from your spot and struggled to find footing so you raised your arms to balance yourself. You had drunk a little more than you thought but managed to steady yourself. MJ held out a hand to you in caution, raising them to catch you.

“Something’s not right,” you said, taking a small step back from your friend. You were certain it was MJ in the room with you, the memory was clear as day.

The reason you had even brought it up in the first place was because you wanted to know where she heard the lore from considering you’d never heard anything like it. You had been ashamed of your Indicator because you’d never come to know of any other person who had the same one as you ever. Not even in the history books. It was just completely unheard of. So, why would MJ know the legend?

“(Y/N), sit down.” MJ ordered, her words concrete.

“No, no, no, no, this doesn’t make sense,” you spoke aloud, your mind trying to understand the events of that night. You took half a step back from MJ as if the added distance would deny her truth. And it was her truth. You could always tell when MJ was lying, years of friendship could attest to that but her words were genuine and her confusion was too.

“Stop moving, (Y/N),” she growled, slowly coming closer to you.

You created the same distance from you as before and she stopped her movements altogether, her eyes glued to the back of your foot. You tried to wrack your brain around it but no matter how you tried to understand it, it just didn’t make sense. How would MJ know the lore for your Indicator when you’d studied extensively to try and find something-anything to make you feel less alone in your path. How had she just randomly come across such information and why hadn’t you asked her right then and there where she heard it from?

“(Y/N)!” You heard your name shouted from behind you and whipped around, the force of the action causing you to tip over the edge of the roof and your heart stopped as you watched MJ jump out to catch you.

The fall was quick but scarier than any rollercoaster you’d been on. It elicited the same sensations but held more finality to it.

“(Y/N)!” MJ screamed from above but you kept your eyes glued to the ground when a figure swung into your line of sight and clung onto you in midair before landing on a patch of grass on the side of the house.

The action had knocked the wind out of you and you struggled to regain your breath, your eyes glued to your feet and how they rested against the ground. MJ flew down the ladder and raced with Ned to get to your side. She hadn’t even reached it before she started yelling at you.

“Are you fucking crazy?” She yelled, kneeling by your side and encasing your face in her hands, failing to draw your attention to her.

Your body shook uncontrollably, the fear from before just now catching up to you. But it wasn’t the fear from nearly dying. It was from whoever the hell you spoke to in MJ’s house.

“Can’t you see she’s scared?” Peter yelled at MJ and you winced. You’d never heard Peter yell like that before.

Peter picked you up and placed you in his lap, his hands attempted to center you in on him but you merely looked through him. You were out of it and you couldn’t bring yourself to come back to the present.

“(Y/N),” Peter whispered, worry and fear laced in his tone, “Are you okay?” It took a minute of letting the fear make its course through you before you zeroed in on Peter’s expression. It was the warmth coming from his hands that brought you back.

“Who was she?”

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