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proxima-writes · 1 year

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title: a million moments

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller/female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

chapters: 1/1

summary: a slice of a happy life with joel miller.

read on ao3 | masterlist

author’s note: this fluffy fic is based off of this gif set by @serenaxpedro , this ask, and this one! requests are open if you’ve got something you’re itching to read, and please consider leaving a lil comment if you enjoyed this fic! 💕

contents warnings/additional tags: explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), no use of y/n, fluff!!!!, happy and soft pre-outbreak joel as the lord intended, established relationship, domestic as hell!!!!, discussions of marriage, pet names, dirty talk, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v, minor breeding kink. let me know if any are missing!

You’re finishing up breakfast, talking with Sarah as she tells you about a test she has coming up, when Joel shuffles into the kitchen, yawning widely as he scrubs a hand through his hair.

“My favorite girls,” he says, pressing a kiss first to Sarah’s cheek before wrapping his arms around your middle and leaning his head against your shoulder blade, eyes falling closed again. “Smells good.”

“I made eggs. Yours are cold because you kept hitting the snooze button,” you tease. You can feel his lips spread into a smile against your back. “Sit. Eat. I need to make lunches.”

He brings a palm up to turn your face to his, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips over your shoulder. The kiss is followed by three squeezes to your hip before he reaches past you to grab the plate you made for him, popping it in the microwave.

With the two Millers chatting behind you, you assemble their lunches. Sarah always requests a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, while Joel prefers to bring two ham and cheese sandwiches to work. They each get apple slices and a bag of chips, and you slip a Twinkie into Joel’s box as well, knowing he has a sweet tooth.

Which reminds you…

“Joel, don’t forget you have a dentist appointment at two,” you tell him.

“Shit. I mean, shoot,” he replies.

“Swear jar,” you and Sarah say in unison. The teen giggles as Joel grumbles under his breath, digging his wallet from his pants. He checks his watch. “Finish up, baby girl, we gotta get goin’.”

You watch as Sarah shoves the last of her toast into her mouth. Joel stands, sticking his plate in the sink and pressing a kiss to your cheek before he leaves the kitchen in search of his work boots.

“Babe! Have you seen—“

“On the porch!” You call, cutting him off.

You zip up Sarah’s lunch box, handing it to her as she flies through the kitchen.

“Thank you!” She calls, blowing you a kiss as she heads for the front door. You wave to her, watching through the bay window as Joel gets into the truck, waving through the windshield as he backs out.

You’re smiling to yourself as you clean up the sink, humming a vague tune as you stick the breakfast dishes in the dishwasher. Your mind drifts back to the night you met Joel Miller, about a year ago.

“Please tell me you’re not about to rent that,” a masculine voice asks from beside you, making you jump, nearly losing your hold on the DVD case you were reading, a copy of The Lord of the Rings that was sitting in the new release section.

The man eyeing the DVD case is tall and broad shouldered, with biceps straining the material of his t-shirt. He has curly dark hair and kind brown eyes that are looking at you expectantly.

“Oh, uh, I was thinking about it. Is it bad?” You ask. He runs a hand through his hair.

“No, no, it’s a great choice it’s just…my daughter just finished the book this week and I told her I’d rent her the movie when she did,” he admits.

“Oh! You go ahead and rent it, then,” you tell him, holding the case out to him.

“Are you sure?” He asks, reaching for it. His fingertips brush against yours, the slight touch enough to leave you craving more as you return his bright smile. “I’m Joel, by the way.”

After returning his introduction with your own, he lingers for a moment. You’re just staring at each other with goofy smiles on your faces.

“Could I…make it up to you? With dinner?” He finally asks.

“I’d like that, Joel.”

You finish the dishes and grab a rag to wipe down the counters when you notice the lunch box still sitting there. You can’t help the little laugh that escapes you.

Checking the time, you head back to the bedroom to get ready for your shift at the hair salon, resolving to bring Joel his lunch during your break.

________

Joel sees your car pull up at the work site and his face splits in a grin. He tugs his work gloves off and goes to meet you.

“Well, hello there, gorgeous,” he calls. God, he loves the way your cheeks turn the prettiest shade of pink just for him. “What’s the occasion?”

“The occasion, Joel Miller, is that you forgot your lunch at home,” you say, shaking the lunch box in your hand. He laughs.

“What would I do without you?” He asks, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. Your head tips back to look at him and presses a kiss to your lips. “Stay to eat with me?”

“Sure. Let me grab my lunch. I’ll meet you at your truck,” you say, squeezing his hip three times as you pull away. He tugs you back for another kiss, swallowing your giggles. “Joel, let me go.”

“Never, darlin’.”

________

You’re sitting between Joel’s legs, your back pressed to his chest, in the bed of the truck. He’s parked beneath a large tree, the shade a relief from the Texas heat as you both enjoy your sandwiches.

“What are your thoughts on marriage?” Joel asks, apropos of nothing. You blink.

“In general? They’re positive ones. Why?”

You feel him shrug beneath you. “Just been thinkin’ about it lately.”

Your smile makes your cheeks ache.

________

Joel stops at the store on the way home, a spring in his step from a good day. He scrutinizes the flower selection, hands on his hips as he tries to pick out a bouquet. His eyes land on a bouquet of bursting pink peonies.

Perfect.

On the drive home, he hums along to the classic rock radio, fingers drumming in the steering wheel, flowers settled on the passenger seat with care. His mind drifts back to the conversation at lunch, and how you’d grinned at him when he mentioned he’d been thinking about marriage lately.

And it’s the truth, he’d been thinking about it a lot. Every time he turned over in bed and slipped an arm around your waist, tugging you closer. Or when he’d come into the kitchen and find you bent over Sarah’s math homework with a furrow in your brow as you tried to help her, despite math being your weakest subject. Or finding the little notes left in his lunch box, scribbled I love yous on colorful paper that he keeps in his glove box for safekeeping.

He thinks about it every time he opens his wallet and sees the folded photo strip of you, him, and Sarah, squeezed into a photo booth at a carnival as you make silly faces at the camera. Or when you’re getting ready in the morning, slicking lip gloss onto your pretty lips and he wants to kiss it all away.

There are a million moments that he thinks about marrying you.

Joel walks in on one such moment this evening. You’re alone in the kitchen, humming as you stir something in the pot on the stove. He steps up behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to your neck.

“Hey, baby,” he murmurs between kisses.

“Hey, handsome,” you reply, turning to face him. Your eyes light up when you see the flowers in his hand. “Those for me?”

“For my one and only,” he confirms, letting you take them from him. You press your nose to the blooms, inhaling deeply.

“They’re amazing,” you gush, moving around the kitchen to find a vase to fill with water. You hand them back to Joel and he removes the wrapping paper, using the kitchen shears to cut the ends off the stems.

You set a glass vase of water on the kitchen table and Joel tips the flowers into them, watching with a small smile as you arrange them to look their best.

“I love them,” you tell him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“I love you,” he says.

________

Joel kisses you breathless, right there in the kitchen. His tongue slides against yours, his hands smoothing down your waist until they grip your hips and tug you closer.

“Gross,” Sarah comments from the doorway. Joel pulls back abruptly. He squeezes your hips three times before letting go, crossing to the doorway to pull Sarah into a hug.

“Set the table,” he tells her, ruffling a hand through her curly hair. She groans, batting at his hand and ducking away from him to grab the silverware.

The three of you enjoy dinner, followed by Joel starting up a movie that Sarah’s been begging to watch.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Joel tells her.

“I won’t!” Sarah insists.

She’s out cold twenty minutes later. Joel laughs silently.

“I’ll get her in bed,” he says, shifting out from beneath her and picking her up from the couch. “Meet you in the bedroom?”

You nod, turning the TV off and putting away the blanket the three of you had been sharing. You head upstairs to your shared bedroom, changing into one of Joel’s well loved t-shirts before climbing into bed, turning the bedside lamp on.

“Never gets old,” Joel says when he comes in a moment later. He reaches behind his head, tugging his shirt up and off.

“What’s that?” You ask.

“You, in my bed. In my clothes,” he says, shoving his jeans down his thighs and kicking them away. You raise an eyebrow at him. “I’ll put them in the hamper later, I swear, let me just hold you.”

He crawls into bed, flopping beside you with a groan and shimmying around until he’s pulled you into his body, tugging your leg over his hip and pressing his head to your chest with a sigh. You run your fingers through his soft curly hair.

“Love you,” he says into your chest.

“You sayin’ that to me or my boobs?” You ask, teasing lilt to your voice.

“Both, definitely both,” he confirms, lifting his head. He brings a hand to the back of your neck to drag your lips to his. The kiss is slow and syrupy, no rush and all the time in the world to enjoy each other.

Joel’s mouth opens against yours, tongue exploring at his leisure. His hand slides down your back until he grips a handful of your ass, tugging you closer until your pussy drags against his hardening cock.

You whine against his lips, and he repeats the action. “You feelin’ a little needy, baby?”

You nod, and he shifts forward, pressing your back to the mattress and hovering over you. His mouth trails across your jaw and down your neck, wet hot kisses marking you like a tattoo, his love seeping beneath your skin.

His calloused fingers drag your shirt up, bunching it up beneath your armpits to expose your breasts to the cool bedroom air. You squirm beneath him as he kisses your sternum before taking one pert nipple between his lips with little preamble.

His tongue swirls around your hard nipple before he draws back with a nip of teeth that makes you gasp. You can feel his grin against your skin as he moves to give your other breast the same treatment.

Joel slips a hand into your panties, finger sliding through your wet folds and he groans. “God, this pussy, baby. Always so fuckin’ wet for me.”

A finger dips into your entrance and you keen, pressing your head back against the pillow. He shushes you as he kisses your tummy. He withdraws his hand to your whine of displeasure.

Joel tugs your underwear over your hips, dragging them down your legs before he tosses them to the side. His hands press your legs apart so that he can position himself on his belly between them, face close to where you crave him most. He kisses your inner thighs, teasing you mercilessly.

“Joel,” you whine. Your fingers tangle in his hair.

He chuckles. “You want my mouth, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you groan.

“Ask nicely.”

“Please, put your mouth on me, baby.”

He licks through your folds, swirling his tongue deftly over your sensitive clit. The sudden stimulation makes your hips buck against his face and he throws an arm over you to keep you still.

Joel is a man on a mission, pulling out all the moves he knows drive you wild. Circling your clit before sucking it between his lips, dipping down to your entrance to drive his tongue against you to drink up your essence. His teeth graze the bundle of nerves and you bite back a shout, hips fighting against his hold.

His free hand presses a finger to your hole, slipping inside you wet heat. He groans against you, the vibration of it making you whine. One finger becomes two that he curls against your front wall, grazing a spot inside of you that makes you see stars.

He looks up at you from between your legs, brown eyes shaded with lust as he works you until you shatter, your release dripping down his wrist as he slows his hand and draws out the swipes of his tongue in broad strokes.

You sink into the mattress, a boneless heap in the aftermath. Joel sits up with a smug smile, crawling over your body until his face hovers above yours.

“You wanna taste?” He murmurs, voice a low rumble you feel through all your nerve endings. You nod and he presses his fingertips to your lips, urging them to part. You lick the taste of yourself from his skin, tongue sliding over the digits reverently.

He presses against your tongue slightly before withdrawing, replacing his fingers with his lips and tongue in a deep and dirty kiss. You reach a hand into his boxers, gripping his length and pumping it leisurely. He hisses, hips flexing into your hold.

“Want your cock, baby,” you whisper, your thumb circling the head and smearing the drop of precum gathered at the slit around the crown. “Please?”

Joel shoves his boxers down in a hurry and you giggle at the display of desperation. He takes himself in hand, sliding himself through your wetness, bumping your still sensitive clit. He notches himself to your entrance, pressing forward in a slow slide until he’s pressed so deep and close you don’t know where you start and he ends.

His body is a welcome weight against yours as he flexes his hips, drawing back before snapping them forward in a harsh thrust. You gasp.

“That’s right, baby,” he says, teeth gritted. “This pretty cunt is all mine, huh?”

“Yours,” you agree, nails scraping against his shoulders. “Wan’ you to fill me up, Joel.”

His hips stutter. “Yeah? You want me drippin’ out of this pretty little pussy?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant back. He bites at your neck before sitting up on his heels, your legs held up against one shoulder as he uses a rough grip on your thighs to slam into you over and over and over.

You have to slap a palm over your mouth to keep the noises you’re making at manageable volume. His grin is near feral.

“Can’t help yourself, huh, darlin’? Wanna scream so bad over how my cock’s making you feel,” he growls. Your eyes flutter shut as you let him command your body how he desires.

You can feel your second orgasm creeping up on you as your belly starts to tighten, like all your nerves are gearing up to shatter in unison.

“Come on, baby, wanna feel you cum on my cock,” he tells you, his thrusts sloppy as he chases his own release. “Make that pussy milk me.”

It’s his dirty words that send you over the edge, forcing you to bite your lip to the point of pain. He lets your legs fall to his hips as he presses deeply into you, his cock pulsing his warm release as he slams his lips to yours, swallowing your noises and mixing them with his own.

His hips slow until he’s just pressed inside of you, his kisses turning into soft pecks to your lips. He lifts his head to look at you, smoothing your hair back from your sweaty forehead with a tender hand.

You smile, turning your head to press a kiss to his open palm.

“I love you, Joel.”

________

As Joel looks down at you, his heart squeezes in his chest. There was a time, around when Sarah’s mom left them both without warning, that he thought love was a hoax. That no one actually found it for themselves.

But looking into your eyes, he finds he was wrong. All that pain was just meant to lead him to you. He wants a million of these moments with you.

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

Joel Miller tag list: @huffle-punk @johnwatsn @hopelessromantic727 @whereasport @pedr0swh0r3 @yellingloudly @dragon-of-winterfell @thedeadsingwithdirtintheirmouths @mydailyhyperfixations @liati2000 @ghostofjoharvelle @cutesyscreenname @morgaussy @letsgroovetonighttt @endlessthxxghts @fake-bleach @brilliantopposite187 @mattmurdock1021 @str84pedro

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#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #no use of y/n #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel tlou #joel miller fluff #joel x female reader #joel x reader

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stevethehairington · 5 months

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20 Questions for Fic Writers

ty to the lovely @thefreakandthehair and @hexiewrites for the tags!! this looks like a fun one!!

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 117 so far and still counting!!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 662,484!

3. What fandoms do you write for? currently stranger things and i've been toying around with the idea of jumping back into writing for good omens! just gotta get the worms to worm, yknow?

but i have also historically written for: skam; marvel; love simon/simon vs; it; shameless; supernatural; (and once for hp and once for trust but i will likely not ever write for either of those again sooo how much do they really count? lol)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. good for my boy (steddie) 2. can't hide the way you make us glow (steddie) 3. i want to hold your hand (steddie) 4. sloe gin fizzy, do it till you're dizzy (steddie) 5. the world will follow after (steddie)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? YES!!! i DO!!! i am INCREDIBLY behind on replying to comments, i got busy and didn't have the chance to reply to any and then they started to pile up and now there is an overwhelming amount in my inbox (currently around 450 sdkljfds) so i just gotta. carve out some time to start tackling all of them. but i am firmly of the belief that if you took the time to leave me a comment i will take the time to respond!! it... just might be a hot minute before that response comes... but it will!! that is a guarantee!!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? haha if you know me you know that writing angst is not something i do all that often. i am a Certified Soft Bitch, and when i do write angst i always try to end it on a happy note because my blorbos deserve that happiness. but i suppose there are a few fics i've written that have... less than happy, perhaps more ambiguous endings. i think there are probably two that i can think of that could potentially fit the bill here...

keep me on a rope, which is my unrequited stommy fic. it IS a happy ending for steddie, but certainly not for tommy lol, so i suppose that counts!

and then i'll throw in beneath the stars too, which is the very first good omens fic i ever wrote (directly inspired by samson by regina spektor!) in which in the early days of their acquaintanceship, aziraphale shows crowley kindness, crowley makes a move and kisses aziraphale, and aziraphale pushes him away and is vehement about the fact that they can't. though, this one kind of ends with aziraphale having an italicize ohment (literally), sooo i guess it's not all that angsty of an ending?

if we wanna bring tumblr drabbles into the mix tho... i definitely have some angsty ones that do not end happily...

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? happiest ending!!! oh boy!!! try, like, every fic i've ever written basically?? dakljfsd as previously established, i am a Certified Soft Bitch, so pretty much all of my fics end with my blorbos happily in love and living/on their way to living their best lives. i really don't know if i can pick one that is the "happiest". i suppose if i absolutely had to pick, i'd maybe say let me know your future plans, which i wrote for the stucky big bang way back when. it's PURE romcom and it ends in a happy wedding so!!

8. Do you get hate on fics? i have not! which, considering how many fandoms i've written for and how crazy some of those fandoms can get, i am INCREDIBLY grateful for. i've got good egg readers and i am very very thankful for it. i think the worst comment i've ever gotten on a fic was one where someone like criticized robin in my fic and called her a bad friend, but that was because they THOROUGHLY misinterpreted her actions in the fic and like seriously misunderstood that she wasn't actually genuinely being an asshole. but yeah, i wouldn't really classify that as hate, that was just lacking reading comprehension lol.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? i do! i feel like it's been a hot minute since i have published any lol, but, historically, i have! and i certainly will (eventually) write and publish more! as for "what kind", gay. i write gay porn. dskljfs. all of the smut i have ever written has been gay and very likely all of it ever will be lksjfs. i also don't think my smut writing ever gets, like, super wild or anything. i'm fully one of those people that likes my smut to be very feelings heavy and like there's gotta be that emotional connection, that seals the DEAL for me, so yeah i tend to write it that way too. fun fact though, the first fic of mine that ever hit 1k kudos was a smut fic! lmao.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? nope! i am very much NOT a crossover fan. don't like to read 'em, don't like to write 'em. i just think there's too much going on in them and i don't like to mix and match my fandoms.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? not that i'm aware of! and hopefully it never will happen either!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? honestly? i cannot remember. sdkfjlsd i feel like i maybe had a request to translate a fic a looooong time ago, but i genuinely do not remember.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? none that have ever been posted! i've started co-writing fics before, but those have never been finished rip. i would really love to actually co-write something and finish it eventually though!

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? ohhhhhhhhhhh MAN. that's a TOUGH question. i've loved so many ships over the years, and they've all been incredibly dear to me. obviously, my favorite at any given time is going to be whatever is my current favorite, whatever is actively snagging my attention and digging it's claws into me (so atm, steddie or ineffable husbands). BUT. since we are talking favorite of all time... i think i gotta go with stucky here. there is just something SO beautiful about that one and there is SO much to work with there, the possibilities are truly endless.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? well i've got a MILLION wips i want to finish in my wips folder that will likely never get touched again skljgfsg but. oh man. i think i gotta say if you love me, if you hate me, which breaks my hEART to say. but skfljdf it's been five years since i posted it and i STILL have not ever gone back to finish it, despite desperately wanting to (because gOD DAMMIT IT HAUNTS ME, IT FUCKING H A U N T S ME!!! THAT IS THE ONLY FIC I'VE E V E R POSTED THAT I HAVE LEFT UNFINISHED AND I HATE THAT SO MUCH!!! I WANT IT TO BE COMPLETE!!!). i always say that i would love to go back and finish it one day, and that sentiment still stands!!! i really would!!! but man, i havent thought about skam in a writing-sense in, obviously, years. and i truly don't know if i ever will be able to get back in that mindset. like i always say though, never say never...

16. What are your writing strengths? writing strengths ooh hmm... well. i personally spend a lot of time on making sure i get my characterizations right when i'm writing any character - that is one of thee most important parts of fic writing to me, because a poorly characterized character is one of the QUICKEST ways to take me out of a fic. so i take that shit seriously. and i like to think that i understand the characters well enough that i am successful in this, that i do do a good job of it, that you can read any one of my fics and go YEAH he WOULD say that. i've gotten compliments about my characterizations on lots of my fics before too (which is genuinely the highest compliment to receive, it makes me so happy to hear), so i like to think that my judgement of my own skill here is not wildly off base lol.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? hmmmm. well, i tend to get super in my head about everything when i've been staring at a doc for too long. i start to like,,, forget how to write well lol. i feel like when that happens i start to like get repetitive and super basic in my writing, which is, obviously, not what i want lol. also, endings. i have so much trouble writing endings. also i struggle SO HARD with just like. writing a random scene that doesn't have like. all this buildup and background. like i cannot for the life of me just start writing in the middle of a scene adflskd. i have to have some sort of setup, which makes it very difficult when i cannot figure out what that setup should be lol.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? don't really have many thoughts on it tbh. i don't do it. mostly because i don't really include any other languages in my fics lol. but i suppose if i ever did and it wasn't like a well known phrase or something that the fandom would know without a translation, then i'd definitely include a translation somewhere. there is nothing i dislike more than when a fic throws in a significant amount of another language (aka not just one or two tiny phrases here andnthere) and doesn't include a translation. like i'm not out here trying to switch between tabs just so i can understand your fic. so yeah if i ever did include other languages, i would definitely be sure to include translations too.

19. First fandom you wrote for? first fandom i wrote for and published my written work for was skam!!! skam my beloved, you will always be special to me. i diiiiid dabble in fic writing before skam, but none of that was ever finished or posted and it never will be and i will not be saying what fandom it was for skfljgdfg (if you know me though you probably know the answer sdfkjsd). but yeah!! skam was baby's first fic writing fandom!!

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? omgggg this is like asking someone to pick their favorite child... i CANT skdjfsl. can i cheat and list a couple favorites? sdkfjdsf. im gonna cheat and list a couple favorites. OKAY. so some of my favorites i've written include:

let me know your future plans - my fic for the 2018 stucky au big bang! this is the first bang i ever did, and it is the longest fic i have ever written! i'm honestly incredibly proud of myself for having done it; bangs are hard sldslkfs. writing a fic over that long of a time period and sticking with it until the end is hard, but i did it! i stuck with it and i finished it and wrote the whole thing i wanted to write and honestly it was one of the most rewarding experiences of my writing career. also, i fucking love a good romcom and that fic is pure romcom so. yEAH.

good for my boy - my wayne pov steddie fic! i'm ALSO super proud of this one because writing from wayne's pov was something so different for me and it was a challenge to make sure i got the balance of getting his voice right without crossing the line and making it sound like a caricature of him, and i think i did a pretty good job of getting him right!

under my umbrella - another steddie fic! this one was just something that came to me totally randomly and i just remember how easily the whole thing spilled out. it was SO incredibly fun to write and it combines some of my favorite things (steddie and RAIN kafjsd) and i just love this one a lot.

keep me on a rope - my unrequited stommy, steddie fic!! i LOVE L O V E LOVE writing tommy pov, and i LOVE L O V E LOVE writing tommy lore and this fic let me do both and it was just SO fun to write and to explore that fucked up little guy and i'm so so pleased with how it turned out. and also the response it got? THRILLING. having people tell me that me and my fic got them thinking about tommy as more than just some random side character that shows up in a couple episodes and disappears and that it got them appreciating that character? THEE BEST!!!! LITERALLY!!! spreading the tommy agenda to as many people as i can is my goal in life and this fic FULLY helped me open some eyes sdkfljsd.

imagine being loved by me - you know WHAT im gonna add this one to the list too because i think it is the best smut i have ever written. this was my first and only (so far anyways) foray into good omens smut lol and i'm actually suuuuper proud of how it turned out. like feels a little weird calling something i wrote hot but,,,,, i kinda went off with how hot it turned out adlkfjdslkf. at least to me it did anyways skjflsd.

that's the end of it now!! so i will tag: @withacapitalp @toburnup @2btheanswertothequestion @flowercrowngods @cheatghost @steddielations @henderdads @harmonictechnicality @sidekick-hero @frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe @steddieasitgoes @aidaronan @phoeniceae @pizzaqueen @fastcardotmp3 @wynnyfryd @maxineholtzmann @maxinemaxmayfield and anyone else that wants to do it!! (also if you've already been tagged feel free to ignore! i did not look at anyone else's tag list before doing mine lol)

#tag game #about me #my writing

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zerstorerin · 3 years

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Cold Crash (Pt. 1)

Summary: Din cares for a hypothermic reader after crashing on the ice planet.

Warnings: Mentions of spiders, hypothermia, and Din being a slightly spicy flirt.

Word Count: 3.5K

Comments: I hope you're craving caretaker Din as much as I do. It seems all my fics have an injured character trope... Awkwarddd. Do we want a part two??

About a year ago...

"What's your worst fear?" you asked Mando. You'd been in hyperspace for hours now, and though the beskar-clad warrior had mentioned the trip to the Core planets would take upwards of a few days, you hadn't expected to be so... bored.

"I'm not afraid of anything," he replied. He was clearly unamused at your feeble attempt to pass the time.

"Bantha shit!" you cursed, tucking your legs up in your chair. "Everybody's afraid of something. I'm afraid of spiders."

Mando scoffed. "Spiders?"

You reached over and cuffed him across the helmet as you tried to stifle your own giggles. "Hey! It's not funny. It's a completely valid fear."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah." Your laughter died out as old trauma surfaced in your mind."I, uh... I got bit by a spider as a kid. Turns out, it was poisonous, and I would've died if my dad hadn't rushed me to the medbay like he did." Mando's figure stilled in the pilot's chair. "I had recurring nightmares for weeks. My- my dad would wake up and rush into my room, helping me check my arms and legs. And then he'd stay with me all night, watching for spiders. He'd be right there the next morning with bags under his eyes."

Mando didn't talk for awhile. Only the beeping and soft hum of the Crest lingered between you two.

He finally spoke up when you'd almost dozed off in your chair. "Droids."

"Hm?"

"I'm afraid of droids." He looked over his shoulder, as if waiting for a response.

But you would never judge him for that, nor did you want to pressure him to tell you why— if there even is a why. Who ever said fears had to be justified? So you waited.

The Mandalorian correctly read your silence as a message of acceptance. He stood up from the pilot's seat and made his way over to you.

And then he knelt and bowed his head, causing you to freeze. "I'm not ready to share my story yet, if that's okay."

You immediately relaxed. "Of course, that's okay—"

"And I'm sorry for laughing." Mando's helmet raised, and you could've sworn he was looking you in the eyes. "I had no right to make a joke of your fear after you were brave and kind enough to share it with me. Ni ceta."

He already had your forgiveness, even if he didn't think himself deserving. And you knew he always would, because even then, you were head over heels in love with the beskar-clad warrior.

Present.

When he woke, Din's first thoughts were of you and the Child. You two were always his priority and would be until his last breath.

His second thought was about how cold it was in the ship. A thick layer of frost coated his beskar, essentially gluing him to the dashboard, and his joints felt stiff.

He looked over his shoulder to the passenger's seat to check on you, but he saw the frog lady unconscious on the floor instead. It took him a moment to remember why, still disoriented from the crash.

You had been cooking for the kid when the New Republic officers had shown up, which meant you were down in the hull when the ship had crashed.

You and the kid were in the hull, where the ship had likely taken the most damage.

Peeling himself from the dashboard, ice and metal snapping apart, he called out your name.

No response.

The frog lady groaned as she woke up, her purple skin a sicker shade of lilac from the freezing temperatures. Din lifted her to her feet, helping her to settle against the wall.

She croaked at him, and he knew that she was worried about her family— just as he was worried about his.

"I'll find your eggs. Don't worry," he assured her. "Gotta get you some blankets,

keep you warm."

Fear flared in his chest. The cockpit had stayed sealed, but it was still cold as ice. If the hull had been penetrated, you would be hypothermic— no. He forced the suffocating feeling from his mind with reasonable thoughts. The little kitchenette Din had recently installed on board wasn't far from

the sleeping compartment, so it was possible you had been able to lock the kid and yourself in. You'll have some bruises from getting banged around, but you'll be okay.

He climbed down the ladder, taking in the sight of snow blowing into the hold through a gaping hole. He cursed under his breath, then yelled for you again. "Riduur!"

Din turned around to the tiny bedroom and tapped the control panel. The door slid open to reveal no sign of either of you.

"Where are you?" he asked, and with each moment that you and the child went unfound, his heart rate increased.

The frog lady said something to him he didn't understand directly but guessed it had something to do with her family.

"Hang on, I'm looking for your eggs!"

His heart sank, knowing his answer was a half truth. He was certainly keeping an eye out for her eggs, but his first priority was to his aliit.

Avoiding sparking wires and fallen boxes, he crossed the hold to a blanket that was moving suspiciously and making swallowing noises. Pulling the blanket back confirmed that his son was indeed snacking on more eggs, but he was safe.

"No! Your mother told you not to do that," Din scolded as a bit of the worry eased from his body. He shouted, "Found them!" up to the frog lady and closed the incubator.

The kid pushed the last egg into his mouth.

"How many did you eat?"

The green little monster only guiltily burped in response.

The frog lady came down the ladder to the cockpit, and Din allowed her to take the incubator into her arms. She croaked, raising one hand and drawing a line back and forth around your height.

"No, I haven't found her yet." He gestured to the kid, who was now playing on the fallen boxes, completely unaware of the dangers they all were in. "Can you keep an eye on him?"

She said something in frog language he understood to be an agreement.

On the outside, Din had managed to appear calm, but on the inside... he was terrified. This hull wasn't that big. He'd already have found you if you were still in the ship. So all that was left was the absolutely horrifying conclusion that you had been thrown from the ship at some point during crash. You were out in that snow somewhere, and his earlier fear was slowly becoming reality.

Din ducked as he stepped out of the hole in the hull, and all at once realized just how deadly the brazen winter really was. He focused on his breathing to keep his body from going into shock, and started to search through the wreckage and other things thrown from the ship. There were several storage boxes, some of his tools, and his old cape—

It was your cape now, though. After he had gifted it to you, you never took it off.

He knelt began to dig, desperately trying to uncover the rest of your form. "I found you, cyar'ika. I'm here." He dug out your shoulder first, then carefully traced it to where your head would be. He kept swiping away layer after layer of snow, now more gently as he neared your face. Your eyelashes appeared first, then your nose and mouth, and then he was pushing his hands under your head to pull you out of the snow and to his chest. "I got you, riduur." But you didn't stir, not even as he lifted you into his arms and carried you back to the ship. He was most worried about the fact that you weren't shivering like you should be.

"Blankets! I need blankets!" Din ordered, every muscle in his body now trembling with the fear of losing his wife.

The kid noticed his momma in his father's arms and his ears drooped to his sides, but he nonetheless scurried as fast as he could to the sleeping compartment to find you a blanket. He put his tiny green fingers on one and pulled, crying out when he realized he wasn't strong enough.

Din laid you down on the floor of the Crest, looking over to see the frog lady helping your son with the blanket. Turning his attention back to you, he ripped his gloves off his hands and brushed the remaining snowflakes from your face. "Riduur, wake up."

Your skin was as cold and pale as the frozen wasteland outside of the Razor Crest, but it could've been worse. Luckily, the snow that covered you had actually acted as an insulator, keeping your body heat trapped around you. The warmth of his bare hands massaging your cheeks roused you from your unconsciousness. Your eyes fluttered as you tried to open them, and your blue lips parted to heave in a full breath. "The kid... is he—"

"He's fine. He's—"

Right on cue, your son laid his head on your chest, cooing in worry. "He's right here." The frog lady passed Din the blanket, which he laid over you and the kid.

Your eyes opened in the kid's direction, taking note of his presence, then closed again. "Din... cold... I'm cold." Consciously or unconsciously, you nuzzled your cheek into his palm.

"I know, riduur. I'm going to take care of you, okay?"

Your lack of response told him your body was again dragging you into sleep. He needed to keep you awake not only because you were hypothermic but as a precaution in case you incurred any head injuries.

"No, no. You can't go back to sleep. I know you're tired and cold," he said gently as he nudged you into a seating position. "But you have to look at me. Open your eyes."

For the first time since he found you in the snow, you looked directly at him, staring into his visor right where you knew his eyes would be. "Hi," you breathed out.

"Hi," he chuckled, brushing a piece of wet hair out of your eyes. He pressed his fingers to your neck to check your pulse. It was slower than he would've liked, but not yet too slow. "I need you to stay awake, mesh'la."

You smiled faintly and put your arms around his neck, pulling yourself up to nuzzle your face in his neck. "Can we go to bed?"

Amnesia and confusion— common side effects of hypothermia.

Din wanted to cry, wanted to take off his helmet and cry so you could wipe away his tears and tell him it was okay. You were so cold and confused and cloudy-eyed, and it physically hurt him inside. "No, we can't go to bed."

"Why not? What's... what's wrong?" You pulled away, eyebrows scrunched and a frown where your beautiful smile was but a moment ago.

"We crashed on an ice planet escaping the New Republic soldiers. You..." Din swallowed, trying to hold back his tears. "I found you in the snow. You're hypothermic, so I need you to stay awake. Can you do that for me?"

Under his helmet, a few tears streaked down Din's face as he watched the realization set in on your face. Unable to watch any longer, he turned his gaze to the kid who was still cuddling his mom with droopy ears. "You can help your buir stay awake, right ad'ika?"

Your little green bean gurgled, an unhappy but confident sound, and climbed onto your lap.

"I'll be back in a few minutes, okay? I'm going check out the Crest and patch up that hole to keep the snow out. Stay awake, mesh'la." Din tilted your chin up with his hand, tapping his thumb twice on your lips— his way of telling you he wanted to kiss you when he couldn't remove his helmet.

"Love you," you told him.

"Love you." He repeated his tap once more.

—

You offered the kid a piece of the dinner Din was forcing you to eat even though you weren't hungry. He said it was to keep your metabolism burning calories which in turn would keep your core temperature higher, so you had agreed to try and eat even if every part of your body felt frozen.

The kid took it graciously, popping it into his mouth before reaching onto the plate and shoving a piece toward your mouth instead. You chuckled and opened your mouth to let him push it in. "Did your buir put you up to this?" you said as you chewed, earning a giggle from him.

That warmed you up a bit, and you could only continue to let him hand feed you with how happy he was to help.

The blanket covering the hole in the Crest rustled. Din entered, and his first glance was to you. "How much has she eaten?"

"I'm right here," you scoffed, feigning offense.

The kid ignored you and chirped some nonsense, but after shoving one more piece of food into your mouth, picked up the plate to show Din that it was empty.

"Good job, ad'ika," Din praised, patting his son on the head. "If you hadn't guessed, we're in a tight spot. The main power drive is not responding and the hull has lost its integrity. I suspect the temperature will drop significantly when night falls. I'll have a better idea of our prospects at that time."

He began to remove his armor, piece by piece, setting it in a near pile near one of the portable heaters. You scooted forward to help remove his leg armor, starting with his shinguards and working up to his cuisses.

"Are you that excited to get me naked, mesh'la?" Din said lowly.

Your face felt hot as you slapped him on the thigh and widened your eyes at him, even if you couldn't stop the smile on your face. "Riduur!" you scolded, jerking your chin to the frog mom and the kid. "You better keep those thoughts to yourself or you can sleep at the other end of the ship."

"Won't be a problem, mesh'la. I had plenty of

practice before we married."

Your eyes narrowed as you internally wondered just how long he'd been keeping those thoughts to himself.

Din left only his helmet on and seated himself beside you. He then patted his thigh, silently letting you know that there was an opening available.

Not only were you hypothermic and in need of more warmth, but you were never one to pass up an opportunity to cuddle with your husband, so you were quick to settle yourself in his lap facing him, one leg on either side of his hips.

You had just laid your head on his chest when the frog mom started to croak urgently.

"I'm sorry lady, I don't understand Frog," Din responded as he covered the pair of you in a blanket. "Whatever it is, it can wait until morning. I recommend you get some sleep."

You watched the stranded mother place her own blanket over her eggs. If you were gonna have to stay awake all night like Din told you—

"You can sleep now," he murmured as if he could sense your thoughts. "I'll have to wake you up if the heaters turn off, but you should get some rest while you can."

"Only if you promise to sleep, too." When he doesn't immediately respond, you lift your head off his chest and stare right into his helmet. "Din, you need to sleep, too."

"I'm not tired—" he started to protest, but you knew better. You'd been taking care of him for over a year now. Just because you were hypothermic doesn't mean you forgot Din neglected both meals and sleep before you came along.

"Do not start with me, riduur," you scolded, glaring up at him through your lashes. The look was a warning, and it was clear that Din understood by the way his helmet fell back against the wall. "The last time you rested for more than five minutes was before we arrived on Tatooine. You cannot take care of everyone else if you don't take care of yourself."

"Okay, okay." He nudged your head back to his chest, brushing his fingers through your hair once, then again. "I'll sleep."

"Thank you," you murmured.

His gloved fingers trailed to your neck this time, where he tapped his thumb twice and then made small strokes back and forth. Din whispered, "Thank you, mesh'la," placing such sweet emphasis on 'you' that your heart ached for him. He had said it like... like he didn't deserve it. "I... didn't realize you paid such close attention."

"Of course I do," you said. "You do such a great job of taking care of me and the kid, so it's my job to make sure you're needs are met, too. You're my riduur. I swore a vow to you." You tightened your arms around him. "And I plan on keeping it."

He squeezed you back. "Speaking of needs—"

You pinched his arm, causing him to flinch. "What did I say about keeping your thoughts to yourself?"

"I was only going to say to let me know if you needed another blanket," he groaned.

"I'll believe that when banthas fly."

—

"Wake up, Mandalorian."

Din pulled his gun out of his holster and rolled you underneath him before he was even consciously aware of what was going on. You clutched tightly to Din's arm as you woke, eyes wide.

"This cannot wait until morning."

You blinked away the sleep fog. The robotic voice was coming from Zero, the droid who had assisted in the attempt of Din's capture on the New Republic prison ship— and almost killed the kid.

"Din—"

"Do not be alarmed," the droid said. "I bypassed the droid's security protocols and accessed its vocabulator."

You sat up to peek around Din's shoulder, and you realized it was the frog lady speaking. She held a microphone wired to the droid.

"What the hell are you doing?" Din holstered his blaster, but he kept his arm firmly placed over your torso. "That droid is a killer."

"These eggs are the last brood of my life cycle," the droid translated. "My husband has risked his life to carve out an existence for us on the only planet that is hospitable to our species. We fought too hard and suffered too much to resign ourselves to the extinction of our family tree. I must demand that you hold true to the deal that you agreed to."

"Look, lady. The deal is off," Din said. "We're lucky if we get off this frozen tomb with our lives."

The Frog Lady croaked into the microphone again. "I thought honoring one's word was a part of the Mandalorian code. I guess those are just stories for children."

Din bolted to his feet, so rigid that his shoulders didn't even move with the labored breaths coming through the modulator. You could only guess how frustrated he was feeling right now— the past week had worn him down to exhaustion. First, it was the business with the beskar hunters, then the krayt dragon, and now this.

You slipped your fingers into Din's clenched fist, giving a soft squeeze.

"This was not part of the deal," he said.

You tugged gently on his hand and stood up. "C'mere."

Din followed you across the hull, his movements softer and less rigid the moment you were in his sight. "Riduur..."

You hushed him. "Just breathe with me."

After taking one deep breath in, you were surprised when Din curled one arm around your shoulders and cradled your head with the other. His grip tightened like you were the only thing keeping his feet on the ground, as if without you, he might drift up into space. He took the next breath with you and then a few more after that.

"Riduur," you murmured, keeping your voice low and soothing. "You're right. None of this was part of the deal, so you don't owe her anything by creed or by code. And I hate to ask you to do more for us than you already have, but what if it was our kid?"

Din cupped your cheek, lifting your chin up to look into his visor.

"What would you do if it was his life on the line?" you said quieter, glancing over his shoulder at your precious green bean. "She's just a parent, riduur. Like we both are. Don't we owe it to her to try and save her eggs?"

Din rested his helmet against your forehead. "You're right, mesh'la," he said. "I love and hate that you're always right."

"Yeah, well," you giggled. "One of us has to be the brains, right?"

Translations (Mando'a - English)

ni ceta - I'm sorry

riduur - spouse

aliit - family

cyar'ika - darling

mesh'la - beautiful

masterlist

#mando x reader #mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian #mando #mando x y/n #mando x you #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian x you #din djarin fic #star wars #pedro pascal

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h2bakugou · 3 years

Note

oh my god hi, ive binge read all your stuff recently tbh XD

Can i request a song fic for one Bakuhoe please? I feel “Fruit Roll Ups” by Waterparks would work perfectly for him (x gn!reader ofc)

I hope that made sense? yeah sorry XD THANK YOU IF YOU DO akskhfjfkdka

a/n: hii!! yes! i just started playing this song to write this request, and i am HOOKED. it's so good, and it radiates such bakugou energy.

summary: bakugou realizes he has a bit of a soft spot for you.

song: Fruit Roll Ups by Waterparks

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: swearing, fluff

word count: 1k (lyrics included)

> fanart < made by the lovely @windex-princess-ami for this story!!

;cut for length;

»»————-　★　————-««

I got some Fruit By The Foot if you wanna come over Yeah, you can wrap your arms so tight Right 'round my shoulders In case you're scared of the movies I pick I'm sorry in advance for that shit

Your phone screen illuminates with a text from your boyfriend who's deemed 'katsu bae<3' in your contacts. His message is short and sweet, saying he picked up from snacks for your arranged movie night if you were ready to head on over.

You shoot a message back saying you'd be over in a few minutes. You'd been looking forward to spending a bit more time with him. Training had kept the both of you busy lately.

You look forward to cuddling with him because you know he'll pick something spooky, maybe a thriller. You know he's just using it as an excuse for you to snuggle into him. But you don't mind.

Bakugou feels a little bad for making you watch stupid scary movies that he finds to be rather annoying or funny while you may jump or cling to him when he wants to bust out laughing.

When you talk It's in cursive to me And it's nicer than anything I'd believe about me It's like that shit was written in gel pen And I love those

You're sitting in his lap this time around, his arms draped around your shoulders. You're just chatting about your day but Bakugou is kind of zoning out. He's listening, but he's just hearing your voice. It's angelic and beautiful.

He can't quite understand how you can sound so beautiful, almost like your voice was writing in cursive, the delicate strokes were the way you sounded out his name.

And whenever you complimented him, he felt warm inside. Whenever you said anything about him, he felt warm inside. You were so kind. So loving. He wasn't sure how you just seemed to brush his brashness aside, but you did, and it astounded him.

If you want to see me Acting so desperately So desperately All you gotta do is stop texting me Just to flex on me

Bakugou can't stand it when you text him all the time, asking him to come over when you're laying in bed, blowing up his phone even though he's supposed to be sleeping.

He's not mad. He's jealous. He wants to be right there beside you, but he isn't. He replies 'if you wanna see me so bad then just come over.' but you usually just tell him to go to bed and that it's past his little bedtime.

Bakugou knows you just love messaging him goodnight whenever it is you go to sleep. And he'll wait for those messages. And if it's been too long, and you don't respond, you'll always wake up with a 'goodnight dumbass <3' from him in the morning, way too late for him to have stayed up.

It's true I'm a little bitch for you now I don't wanna say it way too loud But I'm a little bitch for you now

Bakugou hates it. The way you make him feel. It's the good kind of hate, the kind of hate you learn to love. Like hearing that one song on repeat so much you end up adding it to your playlist because you have it memorized at this point anyway.

He feels warm and happy. He feels like maybe he doesn't deserve someone like you. You're so perfect, so perfect for him, maybe too perfect even.

Bakugou can't help but mumble to himself that he's gotten soft, and Kaminari's teasing comments certainly don't help either. He's supposed to be the tough number one hardass, but here you are breaking him out of that stupid little box he's locked himself in to try and remain on top.

He'd already fallen, fallen so hard and so far for you.

I bought these really sick lights if you wanna come over They tried to scam me twice But look, they both can change colors like that Like that, oh oh

Bakugou refuses to send you any regular pictures after Kaminari practically bought those LED light strips for him. Though it was far too hard to actually purchase them and install them, Bakugou's always sending you some pic in the pretty red lights or moody blue ones.

You enjoy laying on his bed while they're on, listening to him talk about what Deku said to him earlier while you switch them to green just to egg him on. He's complaining shouting at you to change them back to orange or red.

You switch them to your favorite color and now he can't complain-even if your favorite color is green.

I don't wanna leave my house 'Cause in here I'm the ruler With my refrigerator Full of Pacific Cooler But for you, I'd brave all the traffic outside The way you brave all the bullshit I hold inside

When Bakugou leaves the privacy of his loneliness to be with you, he's vulnerable. But he tolerates it, swallowing down those weird feelings he's never really understood before.

But he does it. He braves it for you. The way you stand up to him when he's a jerk to Midoriya, or when he raises his voice at you, or when you spar and he's not holding back. You tell him to let it out. Everything he keeps inside, you tell him you can handle it, and you do.

He doesn't understand how you do it. But he doesn't want to.

Oh it's true, ooh I'm a little bitch for you now I'm a little bitch, oh my God Did I say that too loud? It's true I'm a little bitch for you now I don't wanna say it way too loud But I'm a little bitch for you now

"Fuck, I love you so fuckin' much." Bakugou mumbles against your forehead as you cuddle.

You smile against his chest, nuzzling into him more. He freezes when he feels your smile.

"You didn't hear that..." He replies softly, nuzzling himself into your hair, flustered by his own words of admiration for you.

"You know I love you just as much right? Even if it sounds cheesy." You lift your head to look him in his crimson-colored eyes. He just hums quietly, leaning down to press a little kiss to your cheek.

"I know. I just, wanna remember this moment for a while." Bakugou replies, closing his eyes as he holds you close.

"You wanna split a fruit roll-up after?" You ask quietly.

"Mhm."

»»————-　★　————-««

masterlist

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rexisnotyourwriter · 3 years

Photo

by @rexalexander and @postcardsanddaydreaming

After the Atlanta child murders, the Behavioral Science Unit is as busy as ever. With a new team member by their side, they take on what feels like a growing number of active serial killers as well as continue their interviews of already incarcerated subjects. Bill tries to track down Nancy and Brian with the hopes of repairing his marriage, while Wendy tries to take on a more active role in their research with an eager budding protégé at her side.

Read on AO3

*If you enjoy this, please like/reblog on tumblr and/or leave kudos/comments on AO3. Your feedback helps keep fic writers writing.*

Notes: As always, thanks to my beta fish @hardythehermitcrab

Chapter 1: The Restless Summer Air

The girl watched the toast pop up from the mint green Burlington toaster mere seconds after emitting the smell of the now charred breakfast. The toaster almost perfectly matched the vinyl covering on the kitchen chairs and the geometric pattern on the off-white linoleum flooring. The whole house, in fact, looked like it came straight out of a magazine, which, in all honesty, it had. Her mother had dog-eared the pages of the latest styles before they even bought the house. The kitchen, as noted, was mint and off-white themed. Clean and crisp. The living room, which flowed out from the kitchen, featured wood flooring adorned with a large ornate rug with a velvet baby pink couch and loveseat. The one piece that didn’t quite match the room was her father’s green-ish recliner. It was the sore thumb of the room that he refused to part with. The fireplace was surrounded by a brick mantle, on top of which was a wooden clock that ticked loudly. It was very nearly time for her to be on her way to school.

She sat in her usual seat at one end of the table watching her mother, who looked at the slightly charred toast with little regard and tossed it onto a plate. She watched as her mother haphazardly slathered it with strawberry jam. She was doing it wrong, again.

Across from the girl’s place at the kitchen table was a full breakfast plate - two fried eggs, two pieces of (unburnt) toast, buttered, and three sausage links - next to a cup of coffee. The sun shining in from the living room illuminated the steam willowing out from the top of the mug like smoke from a chimney. It curved and swirled upwards, slithering almost, until it disappeared.

“Ed!” her mother called, for the fourth time, more shrill than the previous three.

She plopped the plate of toast in front of her daughter before grabbing her “secret” pack of cigarettes from the kitchen drawer. When the girl heard the back door open and the strike of a match, she got up from her seat to grab the jar of jam and knife that were still on the counter. She dipped the knife gingerly into the jar and spread jam into the forgotten corners of the toast, but not so near the crust that her fingers would get sticky when she ate it. Then, she cut the toast diagonally.

“Morning,” her father smiled at his daughter as he entered the kitchen. She smiled back, but her mouth was too full of toast to return his greeting. He was in one of his nicer suits today, the dark blue one, with a silk paisley tie. His coat was already swung over his arm, his hand clutching his briefcase beneath it. He blew quickly and gently on his coffee a few times before gulping some down, wincing. Still too hot. He gave up on it, and turned to leave. The girl’s smile dropped.

“What are you doing?” her mother’s voice came from behind her.

“Going to work, dear, like I do every morning,” he replied cheekily.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

He paused, annoyed by the delay. His eye spied the full plate of food at his spot.

“I’m sorry, I really don’t have time to eat.”

He moved to leave.

“You’re supposed to bring her to school today.”

“Hun, I’ve got a meeting first thing. I really gotta go.”

“I have a hair appointment-”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Kat-”

“Ed, you promised that you-”

“I hardly think your hair is-”

“That’s not the point-”

“Don’t forget who pays for your hair to look like that.”

“Here we go.”

“I’m not doing this now, end of discussion.”

He grabbed a piece of toast from his plate and shoved it into his mouth before leaving out the front door.

Her mother slammed the back door shut. She hastily untied her apron and threw it on the counter, then rushed off to the powder room to fix her hair and put on some make up.

The girl finished her toast in almost complete silence, but for the steady ticking of the clock.

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

The Academy basement was almost always dark when Gregg got in. Today was no exception. He enjoyed being the first one there. The more work he got done sooner, the better change he had of making it home for dinner. Granted, he didn’t always make it, but he made the effort, and that was enough for his wife. Plus, the mornings were quiet. He could get settled, organized. It was a different kind of quiet from the late nights. The morning quiet felt promising, hopeful in a way. The evening quiet was a slow drag, your thoughts muddled with too much information that had accumulated over the course of the day into a tangled ball of yarn.

They had a coffee maker now, and an electric kettle. Some of the perks of the increased funding and attention the Behavioral Science Unit had received. Gregg would make a strong pot, stronger than he liked it. He was the odd one out in the team who preferred weaker coffee, so he would make it strong for their sake and add hot water to his mug until it was tempered to his liking.

On this particular morning, Wendy was the next to arrive. She and Gregg exchanged silent greetings as she hung up her coat before retiring to her office. A stack of files was waiting for her on her desk, but it was only a partial set. The remaining files were in her briefcase, having been read the night before. She took them out and placed them in their own pile on her already busy desk. The “done” pile. Though not “done” as in finished with; “done” as in read and flagged with numerous Post-it Notes.

The interviews had been behind ever since the Atlanta case, even though that was closed over a month ago. The phone had been ringing almost constantly with police from every county thinking every slightly disturbing murder was the work of a deranged psychopath. Poor Gregg was getting the brunt of the phone duty, which sucked up his time on more important work. They did get an answering machine, but between checking the tapes and the stacks of unsolicited faxes that would come through, it was becoming a full time job to sift through it all.

Wendy heard the main door open and wondered if it was Bill. She got up from her desk to check. She needed coffee, anyways.

It was Holden. A few weeks ago, he would’ve asked her if Bill was in yet, but his late arrival was a regular occurrence by now. They exchanged their usual good morning head nod as Wendy exited to obtain her caffeine fix.

Some papers floated off the edge of the fax machine tray, which was still spitting out pages.

“How long has this been going on?”

Gregg, fully immersed in a recording, didn’t hear Holden.

“Gregg,” he said louder.

Gregg paused the tape and removed his headphones.

“When did this start?” Holden asked, picking up the pages from the floor and stacking them, along with the rest, next to the fax machine.

“I’m not sure. It was empty when I got in this morning.”

Holden sighed as he gave a few of the pages a cursory glance. Nothing excited him.

Wendy returned armed with two cups of coffee. She gave the coat rack a scan for Bill’s coat, but it was still absent.

“Hey,” Holden said, making his way over to Wendy. “Do you think we should’ve told him yesterday?”

“He had already gone home.”

Holden looked at the second coffee cup in Wendy’s hand, waiting for her to offer it to him.

“Yeah, I know. But should we have called him?”

Wendy shook her head.

“He doesn’t need to be dealing with work when he’s at home.”

The hypocrisy of her advice isn’t lost on either of them. Holden’s not exactly innocent either.

“I just don’t know what to do.”

“There’s not much we can do.”

Holden looked at the coffee again. This time Wendy noticed.

They’re interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps coming from the hall. Moments later, Bill walked in, without a coat, looking slightly worse for wear than usual, with a manic glint in his eye.

“Morning, Bill,” Wendy said.

“Morning,” he responded reactively, not bothering to look in her direction.

He stood at the coat rack for a moment before realizing he didn’t need to be there, then headed to his office.

Holden and Wendy shared a look. She’s got this. Wendy followed Bill, both cups of coffee still in her hand, leaving Holden to fend for himself.

Wendy leaned against the doorway of Bill’s office while he settled himself. She half expected the inside of his briefcase to be a slough of loose files, but he pulled out a single tidy, albeit thick, folder.

Wendy said nothing.

Bill sighed and finally looked up at her.

“Look, I appreciate the concern.”

“Bill-”

“I do. But what I really need right now is to not be treated like I’m a…a bird with a broken wing, or a child.”

He paused.

“Or some other helpless thing, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I know I look like shit.”

“I’ve seen worse.”

He almost smiled.

“While Holden and I share some…concerns,” she continued. “That’s not entirely why I’m here.”

Wendy stepped inside his office, closing the door behind her, and took a seat, placing one of the coffee cups in front of Bill.

“Gunn came down here yesterday, after you left-”

“Shit.”

“He knows there’s something going on, more than whatever it is you’re telling him.”

Bill leaned his forehead into this hand, rubbing his temples.

“He really likes playing us off each other, doesn’t he.”

“It’s actually rather smart, if you think about it,” Wendy responded wryly. “He knows by now that we talk to each other about this kind of stuff, and that Holden and I have a better chance of getting through to you than he does.”

Bill finally took note of the coffee in front of him and gulped some down.

“What did you tell Gunn?” he asked.

“Nothing. I said I wasn’t specifically sure what was going on outside of work and assured him that we were catching up from time lost during the Atlanta case.”

“Is that true?”

“Marginally.”

He scoffed.

“But that’s not your fault,” she added.

They sat in the silence of a mutual understanding that nothing either of them could say would change the reality of the situation.

Wendy shifted in her seat, about to stand up, when Bill interrupted her.

“Brian answered the phone this morning.”

She opened her mouth, but no words formed.

Every day since Nancy left with Brian, Bill had been calling her parents in Connecticut. There was nowhere else she could’ve gone to. She had no siblings, and had too much pride to confide in any of their friends.

“I called this morning, expecting to leave another voice-mail, but after two rings it stops. I hear breathing. Background noise from the kitchen. Bacon sizzling.”

Each word is harder for Bill to say out loud, but he keeps his composure. Wendy can feel it, though.

“And then I hear Nancy freak out, telling Brian to hang up the phone. Then…”

He imitated a dial-tone.

“I don’t know what to do, Wendy.”

She exhaled softly. She wasn’t sure either.

“I’m sorry, Bill.”

“Thanks for the coffee.”

That was her cue to leave. She paused in the doorway, and turned back around.

“You don’t have to tell Gunn everything. Just, something with a grain of truth. Enough that he feels you’re being honest with him and will give you some leeway.”

“I will.”

“Sooner rather than later.”

Bill nodded.

“He’s out today, yeah?” She nodded back. “I’ll tell him next week. Promise.”

Wendy left him with a sympathetic smile.

Holden was finally settled at his desk when Gregg interrupted him.

“I’ve got an Arthur Osborn on the line. Alaska State Trooper. He’s got a case that I think it worth looking into.”

Don’t they all.

“And he asked for me specifically?”

“You or Bill, but I figured…”

“Yeah, sure, put him through.”

A moment later, Holden’s phone rang.

“Special Agent Holden Ford.”

“Agent Ford, thanks for taking my call.” Osborn’s voice was deep and had a midwest lilt. Definitely not a native Alaskan.

“How can I help?”

“We’ve had four young women found dead in less than two years. All of them under 21. The youngest,” his voice cracked, “was eleven.”

Holden waited for him to compose himself.

“They were noted as missing before the bodies were found,” Osborn continued. “Two months ago, Lori King, 18, was reported missing. We think it was the same guy. We want to find him before she ends up like the others.”

“Of course. What condition were the bodies in when they were found?”

Osborn took a deep breath. “There was significant decomp by the time we found them.”

“Anything notable in how they were staged?”

“Staged?”

“Yes. Positioned. When you found them, were they sitting up, lying down, what were their arms and legs doing…”

“Nothing particular, really, I don’t think. We have photos.”

“Good. It’s possible this is the same unsub, but I’ll need to look at everything you’ve got on it.”

“Yes, Agent Ford.”

“Did you already fax us the files?” Holden was already dreading having to dig the related pages out of the stacks.

“What? No, no. We thought we better call first.”

“Good thinking. Send them through when you get a chance. We’ll take a look.”

“Thank you.”

Less than thirty minutes later, the fax machine started printing.

Later that afternoon, Holden gathered the rest of the team in the war room to review the Fairbanks case files. It turned out Osborn was right in his suspicion that this could be the work of the same unsub.

“Our first victim is Glinda Sodemann, 19. Newly wed and a new mother. She went missing from her home in North Pole on August 29, 1979.”

Holden pinned a photo of Glinda onto the board.

“Her husband came home to the baby asleep in the crib and Glinda gone. There were no signs of foul play, and no indication that she would have had a reason to run away. Two months later, her decomposing body was found near Moose Creek, just over twenty miles south of Fairbanks, in a gravel pit near the highway.”

Next to the smiling black and white yearbook photo of Glinda, Holden pinned the photo from the dump site.

“She was shot in the face with a .38 caliber. The pistol cartridge was found next to the body. There were no signs of sexual assault.”

“Did they look into the husband,” Bill interjected.

Holden nodded.

“He was their prime suspect for a while. Even failed a polygraph. But there was no evidence.”

The next photo Holden put up was of an even younger girl.

“Almost a year after Glinda disappeared, 11-year-old Doris Oehring goes missing from North Pole. Her and her older brother were riding their bikes on June 11. She had ridden ahead of him, and when he caught up to her he saw her talking to a man with a blue car. The hood was popped open as if he had engine trouble. As soon as her brother got closer, the man slammed the hood, got back in his car, and sped off. Two days later, Doris disappeared.”

“Were they able to get a description from the brother?” Gregg asked.

“They got a rough sketch,” Holden answered, adding said sketch to the board. “The brother said he thought the man was wearing a blue shirt that looked like a uniform.”

“Military?” Wendy suggested.

“Air Force.”

“There’s a base in Fairbanks,” Bill added.

“They found Doris’ bike hidden in the bushes near her home. A witness said they saw a blue car near that area around the time of her disappearance. The driver appeared to be struggling with someone or something in the seat next to him.”

“Fuck,” Bill muttered under his breath.

“They also said it looked like he had a military haircut. Now, based on all of the descriptions of the perpetrator, the state troopers got a list of every single blue car that was registered to drive on the Eielson Air Base. Anyone want to guess how many names are on that list?”

They looked around at one another.

“One hundred?” Gregg suggested.

“550,” Holden responded. “They questioned Glinda’s husband again. This time the polygraph was inconclusive.”

The team collectively rolled their eyes at that cursed word.

“They brought a polygraph expert in after that to question him again. They said that he had an irregular heartbeat that made it impossible for him to pass a polygraph. It would always show either as failed or inconclusive. Due to lack of alternative evidence, they had to remove him as a suspect, at least for Doris’ disappearance.”

They fell silent, processing the implications of this information. How many people failed a polygraph because of a heart condition?

“The third disappearance happened January 31,” Holden continued. “Marlene Peters, the oldest victim so far at age 20. She was last seen hitchhiking from Fairbanks to Anchorage to visit her sick father. Now, initially, there wasn’t enough reason to think that her disappearance was connected to the others. Five weeks later, Wendy Wilson, 16, goes missing. She was also last seen hitchhiking, and a witness saw her get into a white pickup in Moose Creek. They found her body three days later, over thirty miles south of Fairbanks. She had been strangled and then shot in the face. Two months later, Marlene’s body was found in similar condition, not far from where Wendy’s had been. Which also happened to be very close to -”

“Eielson Air Base,” Bill finished.

“Bingo. The latest disappearance occurred a couple days after they found Marlene’s body. Lori King, 19.” Holden puts Lori’s photo on the board. “She was last seen walking alone in Fairbanks.”

“Did they ever find Doris Oehring?” Wendy asked.

“No. They’ve searched near the air base and all the areas where the other bodies were found, but no sign of Doris, or Lori.”

Holden took a step away from the board, indicating his descent into theorizing.

“He’s single. Lives alone. Definitely has issues with women.” The team all nodded in agreement. “Probably has a hard time holding a job. He has a history with the military, but I don’t think he’s part of the Air Base.”

“Even though it’s close to the dump site of the victims,” Gregg inquired.

“It’s more notable that the bodies were dumped off the highway. It doesn’t feel like it’s about the proximity to the Air Base,” Holden replied. “So, why does he shoot them in the face?”

“To hide their identity?” Gregg suggested.

Wendy shook her head.

“It’s more than that,” she said. “It’s a relatively tight knit community. People know that these women are missing, and identifying them wouldn’t be that difficult, even after their faces had been shot. It’s more about substitution. He’s taking them and killing them in place of the person - woman - that his aggression is actually directed at. Once they’re dead, he sees that they didn’t fulfill the fantasy in the way that he wanted, so he disfigures their face to erase their identity in order to satisfy his illusion.”

Gregg nodded.

“I disagree about the military aspect, however,” she continued. “I think it’s highly likely he does work at the Air Base in some capacity.”

“Because of the haircut and the blue car?” Holden responded.

“And the uniform. The location of the bodies. The evidence we’ve accumulated from other cases. He likely has disciplinary issues, maybe even a history of abusive behavior towards women.”

“Okay.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he also had a history of institutionalization,” Bill added. “He feels tangibly unhinged.”

“Okay,” Holden repeated. “I think we’ve got a good basis for a profile.”

Holden faced the team, hands on his hips.

“Hey, we should grab a drink later. It’s been a while.”

“I got to get home to the family,” Gregg replied.

Holden gave him an understanding smile as Gregg grabbed his notebook and left the war room. He turned and looked expectantly at Bill and Wendy, his real targets.

“Come on, it’s a Friday. We’ll go to The Fern.”

“I don’t think so, Holden,” Wendy declined.

“Yeah, I’m not really feeling it tonight,” Bill added.

Holden shot Wendy a look. For Bill’s sake.

She contemplated, and gave in.

“Alright,” she conceded. “Come on, Bill. I’ll go if you do.”

He sighed. “Fine.”

“My other condition,” Wendy added, “is that we find a new place.”

“What happened? I thought you liked going to The Fern?”

She shrugged.

“It wasn’t as great as I thought it was.”

Rod Stewart’s “Maggie May” was playing upon their arrival at The Velvet Arrow. It was not as full, or as dive-y, as The Fern, but it was certainly more bizarre in its decor. The walls were covered in a mix of Native American art and 1950s advertisements. The bar stools, true to the name, were covered in red velvet (and stains) that reminded one of movie theater seats. Thankfully, the booths where they chose to sit were vinyl.

“I’ve got the first round,” Holden offered. “Bill?”

“Bourbon.”

Holden turned to Wendy.

“White wine. Thanks.”

When Holden was safely out of earshot, Wendy leaned in towards Bill.

“Did you tell him about this morning?”

Bill shook his head.

“Okay.”

It was understood that the phone call with Brian stayed between them. They both agreed that Holden needs to know enough of what’s going on to not be a dick, but not so much that he gets too involved.

“It really feels like we’re his parents sometimes,” Wendy noted.

Bill exhaled loudly through his nose.

“That kid, I tell ya.”

They shared a small laugh as Holden returned with their drinks.

“What’s so funny?”

“Wendy just told a great joke,” Bill replied.

She cut him a glare, tempered with a smirk.

“Wendy told a joke?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” she replied, more defensively than intended.

“No, I mean -” Holden flustered. “You’re…funny.”

She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Why do I feel like I was the joke,” he added.

“Couldn’t tell ya,” Bill grinned.

Wendy sipped her wine. At least it was better than whatever they had at The Fern, not that The Velvet Arrow’s was in any way exceptional. She scanned the rest of the bar. It was mostly men, military looking men at that. A few of them were here with what appear to be girlfriends, or at least hopefuls.

Her heart stopped. A woman at the bar, a customer, back turned. Her slight frame and long straight brown hair were familiar. No. It couldn’t be.

She gulped down more of her wine, unable to turn her eyes away, just in case the woman turned her head to get confirmation or denial.

“How about it, Wendy?” Holden asked.

She turned to look at him.

“What?”

“Darts. Wanna play?”

“Um...”

“Come on,” Bill coaxed.

“Fine.”

While the men got up, Wendy stole a glance back at the woman. Her profile was in full view now, and it was a face she didn’t recognize. She let out a small sigh of relief.

“You coming?” Holden asked.

“Hmm? Yes.”

She anticipated how poorly she’d do. Bill and Holden assuredly had low expectations.

“Ladies first,” Bill said, handing Wendy a dart.

She slowly shook her head at him, a slight smile on her face, and took the dart. It was heavier than she expected. It was just like archery, right? She did that once, at a summer camp. Poorly.

Wendy stared down the dartboard.

Square up. Shoulders to the pins.

Kay’s voice came into her head. She positioned herself.

Now, put your weight on your left foot.

She did.

Take a deep breath and just do it.

Wendy fired the dart.

It stuck two inches from the center.

Bill and Holden didn't bother to hide their surprise, nor their delight.

“40 points,” Holden exclaimed.

“Nicely done, Dr. Carr,” Bill beamed.

“Looks like we’ve got to step it up, Bill,” Holden added.

The game ended with Bill winning both rounds; Wendy and Holden earned a second and a third place ranking each. The trio walked out to the parking lot in the warm summer air. It still smelled like smoke, but it was fresher than inside the bar at least.

“See you Monday, then,” Holden said.

They waved their goodbyes and entered their respective vehicles. Wendy was about to pull out when she heard an engine struggling.

It was Holden’s.

She looked around and saw that Bill had already driven off. Holden looked at Wendy from across the parking lot. Their eyes met. There was no escaping now.

She got out of her car and walked over.

“Need a jump?”

Holden sighed. “I think so. Bill’s gone already?” She nodded. “Do you have cables?”

“I can check.”

Wendy looked in the back of her car and the trunk, but no luck. She returned to Holden empty handed.

“I’ll call a tow truck,” he concluded.

“At this hour?”

Holden shrugged.

“Come on, I’ll drive you home,” she offered. “You can deal with it in the morning.”

Holden willingly agreed.

Wendy turned on the radio, hoping it would keep Holden’s small talk at bay.

“So how do you think Bill’s doing? Like, really?” he asked.

She thought about it.

“I think he’s handling it as well as he knows how. I mean, how is someone even supposed to cope with your wife leaving with your child while you’re gone, with no contact whatsoever?”

“I offered him one of my Valiums the other day,” Holden said casually.

“You did what?”

“You know, just to maybe help take the edge off.” Wendy shook her head. “He declined, by the way.”

“You really shouldn’t be offering prescription drugs to people.” As if it needed saying.

“Well, when you phrase it like that,” he smirked. “Left up here, then I’m on the right.”

Wendy turned and pulled up to Holden’s building. He took off his seatbelt, but didn’t get out of the car.

“Thanks for the ride, Wendy.”

She smiled politely. He smiled back, still not making any move to leave.

“Do you want to come in?” he offered. “For a cup of coffee, or something?”

“Uh, no. Thank you.”

Holden wasn’t phased by the rejection, which only made Wendy more convinced he would keep trying.

“Okay.” He opened the door to leave. “Drive safe.”

She nodded. He closed the car door behind him.

Wendy saw him in her mirror standing outside, watching her drive away, before disappearing inside.

#op*#mindhunter #mindhunteredit #mindhunter fic #a tide in a city #wendy carr #bill tench #holden ford #gregg smith #ted gunn #it has been 84 years since i posted a fic

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expectingtofly · 4 years

Text

My Darling, My Dearest, My Dear

1k dean/cas fic

also posted on AO3

The thought first strikes Dean one night while he’s watching Dr. Sexy M.D.

Dr. Sexy and Dr. Ellen Piccolo call each other “babe” about a hundred times in one episode and, while overdone as most aspects of the show tend to be, it makes Dean realize something.

“Hey, Cas,” he says as Castiel returns to their bedroom from a shower. “Why don’t we have pet names for each other?”

“We’re not pets?” Castiel says, standing in his underwear as he rubs a towel through his wet hair.

“No, pet names, names couples give each other.” Dean turns off the TV and throws the remote on the nightstand. “Like babe, or sweetheart.”

“Oh.” Castiel drapes his towel on the desk chair and climbs onto their bed on top of the covers. “I don’t know. Should we give pet names to each other?” He sits in front of Dean, straddling his legs.

“Well, why not?” Dean reaches out to grab Castiel’s hips and pull him closer. “We’re a couple aren’t we?”

Castiel smiles. “Yes, we are.” He kisses Dean, then tugs at his shirt. “Off.”

“Alright, alright.” Dean pulls off his shirt. “Impatient angel.”

Castiel takes Dean’s shirt and tosses it to the side. “Slow human.”

Dean sighs. “We’re not off to a very good start, are we?”

Their efforts at choosing pet names end there, both of them focused on the more pressing matters at hand, but the following morning they resume their efforts with greater vigor.

“Pass me the salt, babe,” Dean says. “No, that doesn’t feel right.”

Castiel hands him the shaker. “Here you go, honey.”

“That’s too cute.”

“We’re never going to come up with one if you keep saying that.”

Dean rolls his eyes and tosses salt onto the scrambled eggs he’s making at the stove. A stifled laugh makes him spin around to see Sam standing in the kitchen doorway.

“How long have you been standing there?” Dean demands.

Sam pushes himself off the doorframe and walks over to the coffee pot. “Long enough to wonder what the hell is wrong with you two.”

“We’re trying to pick pet names for each other,” Castiel says before Dean can shoot him a warning look. “It’s not as easy as it sounds.”

“Doesn’t Dean call you buddy?” Sam sits at the table with his coffee mug.

“That’s not much of a pet name,” Dean says. “I can call anyone that.”

“You can, but you won’t,” Castiel frowns at him. “Sugar,” he adds.

“Nope.” Dean scrapes the eggs onto a plate and sits at the table across from Sam. “Pass me a fork, Angel Eyes.” He looks at Castiel expectantly and Castiel only stares blankly back at him.

“Is that a reference to something?” He hands Dean a fork and sits next to him.

Dean groans. “The Good, the Bad and the Ugly?” Castiel shrugs. “Why do I even bother showing you the classics?” He digs into his breakfast. “Sunshine.”

“Flower.”

“Dear,” Sam suggests.

“I’m not a fucking housewife,” Dean says. “How about Baby? No, that’s just wrong.”

“I’m not your car, Dean,” Castiel says.

“No, but you ride like—wait, no, I can drive you—”

Sam clears his throat loudly and Castiel shakes his head. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It got the point across. Lovebug. Shit! None of these work!”

“You’re trying too hard, Blondie,” Castiel says.

Dean points at him in excitement. “I knew it! I knew you remembered the movie!” Castiel grins.

But Blondie doesn’t seem to do the trick, so they continue trying new names as the day progresses. They even enlist the help of Jack, who googles pet names and rattles off a list which includes such monstrosities—Dean’s phrasing—as pookie, boo, and main squeeze.

Things go quickly awry when Jack tries to explain the word “bae,” causing Dean to grow more distraught. Castiel insists “Love” is suitable, but Dean refuses on principle, saying he’ll be damned before he sounds like one of those stuck-up British Men of Letters.

They dive into other languages: mi amor, cariño, mon petit chou chou. That last sends Jack into peals of laughter when he learns its translation.

“Why can’t I call you Angel?” Dean asks as Jack continues laughing. “It’ll have two meanings, it’s clever.”

“But then what should I call you? Human? That’s too strange.” Castiel looks over Jack’s shoulder at the laptop screen. “Baby Daddy.”

“No,” Sam speaks up from across the map table where he sits with his laptop.

“Gotta agree with Sam on that one.” Dean sits next to Jack. “Partner.”

“Mate.”

“I don’t think you guys are meant to use pet names,” Jack says.

“Jack has a point,” Sam agrees.

Dean waves him off. “No, no, we’ll figure it out. What do you and Eileen call each other?”

Sam reddens. “We don’t call each other anything. We’re not even dating.”

“Jack, tell Sam to stop being a wuss and ask Eileen out already.”

“Sam, you should stop being a wuss and ask Eileen out already,” Jack parrots.

Sam shuts his laptop and leans back in his chair. “So I’ve heard.”

“How about something in Enochian?” Castiel suggests, moving to stand behind Dean and wrap his arms loosely around his neck.

“Will I be able to pronounce it?”

Castiel sighs. “Probably not.”

“Then I don’t see how that’s helpful, honeybear.” Dean leans his head back to look at Castiel.

“That has potential.”

“It really doesn’t,” Jack says.

They continue experimenting with different names throughout dinner, deciding if one pet name doesn’t do the trick, several might, along with a healthy dose of adjectives.

“Thank you for making dinner, my glowing, cheerful, obstinate honeybee,” Castiel says.

“You’re very welcome, my winged, dorky, uptight loverboy,” Dean replies.

“Those words make sense individually,” Sam says.

“Maybe Jack was right,” Dean admits as he pulls back the covers on their bed that night. “Why do we need pet names anyway? So we can act like some TV couple? It’s gonna take a whole lot more than nicknames to make that happen.”

“Nicknames have to happen naturally anyway,” Castiel says, getting into bed next to Dean. “We can’t force it.”

“Right.” Dean puts his arm around Castiel and pulls him closer. “Goodnight my fluorescent, iridescent sunbeam from Heaven.”

He knows Castiel is fighting back an explanation of why those words don’t make sense together so Dean kisses him as a distraction and settles onto his pillow. “Night, Cas.”

Castiel nestles against him. “Goodnight, Dean.”

Who needs pet names when he has an angel who says his name like that?

Tagging: @spnwaywardone @good-things-do-happen-dean @becky-srs

Let me know (message, ask, comment) if you’d like to be tagged in my destiel fics :)

#deancas fic #spncreatorsdaily #dean and cas try to choose nicknames for each other #sam dean and cas are jack's parents #sam and jack are done with dean and cas' domestic shit #very fluffy and very silly #expectingtoflywrites

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star-labs-intern · 3 years

Text

Serendipity: A New Year’s Kiss harrisco fic

A/N: This is super late but it is for @heckyeahharrisco ‘s beautiful Harrisco New Year’s Kiss Anthology! Happy almost- New year!

Summary : Harry and Cisco have a one night stand the night before NYE and then find themselves at the same New Year’s party.

Serendipity

The date was December 30th and Cisco was out at the bar, drinking. The holidays had been stressful to say the least and he deserved some proper rest and relaxation. He was hoping for someone to flirt with, so Cisco wasn't at his usual haunt tonight. He was at a place a little further across town that was usually very busy but tonight, looked like a ghost town. He looked up when a tall, lanky man of ambiguous age came to stand near Cisco.

“So...Do you come here often?" Harry Wells found himself asking, aloud.

Cisco barked a laugh. “That line ever worked on anyone before?”

Harry chuckled and reddened a little. “Honestly haven’t used it on anyone in a while. But I’m truly curious. You don’t exactly strike me as a regular.”

Cisco nodded at the drunks asleep at the counter. “No, I am certainly not a regular.”

“So that means, young attractive man, not at his usual neighborhood bar… looking to get into trouble tonight?”

Cisco found himself laughing for the second time. “You’re the one calling me attractive without even buying me a drink, let alone introducing yourself.” Cisco smirked at this handsome stranger. “And I’m the one looking for trouble?”

“Harry Wells. And I’d love to buy you a drink, even if you don’t tell me your name.” Harry leaned closer to the man with the beautiful curly hair, anticipating his response.

“My name’s Cisco. Cisco Ramon. And, yes, I think I’ll let you buy me a drink.” Cisco sized Harry up for a second.

“Oh, you’ll allow me to buy you a drink? How kind of you.” Harry quipped.

They decided to move to a table to talk. One thing led to another and suddenly Harry was asking Cisco to come home with him. Then, before they knew it, Harry and Cisco were two single people heading home together on a cold New Years Eve, Eve, intent on having some fun with no expectations.

Cisco always buzzed with nervous energy before moments like this and Harry could feel it radiating off of him.

“Relax,” Harry cooed as they got out of the taxi. They stood at the bottom of the stairs that led up to Harry’s apartment. It was bitter cold but Cisco stared up at the door and then looked sheepishly back toward Harry.

Cisco couldn’t help feeling a little bit of hesitation. Harry was an older man, a stranger, bringing Cisco into his home, after all.

“Hey,” Harry stopped Cisco by gently grabbing him by the shoulders. “You good?” Harry asked seriously, instead of complaining about the cold or rushing Cisco inside.

“I’m so good,” Cisco nodded, suddenly back in the moment with refreshed enthusiasm.

Harry grinned and pulled Cisco to him, kissing him slowly. Cisco felt lightheaded.

"Let's go inside. I'm cold." Cisco complained when they parted.

"Hmm, I think I may be able to help with that," Harry replied cheekily as they ascended the steps and disappeared into the apartment

***

The next morning Cisco was up cooking breakfast, even though it was Harry’s home.

Harry grinned waking up to the smell of food. “I don’t remember telling you to get out of bed,” Harry teased as he came into the kitchen.

Cisco blushed, “Good morning! I think we both deserve some food after last night,” he deflected the flirtation but looked at Harry under low lids.

Harry came to kiss Cisco squarely on the mouth. “You are amazing. Thank you for such a wonderful evening.”

“I certainly enjoyed myself,” Cisco grinned and kissed Harry back before breaking away. “Now! Unless you want burned eggs to ring in the last day of the old year, I suggest you stop distracting me,”

"Whatever you say, Cisco," Harry grinned

***

Later that day, Cisco was at home preparing for his New Years Eve party. He was going to Mercury labs with his best friend Caitlin Snow. He was going as “back up”, as moral support for Cait, who worked there, and he had to start getting ready.

His phone vibrated and, expecting a message from Cait, Cisco opened his phone. What he found was Harry’s apparent phone number, saved under “That Hot Guy” and a new message saying “Had a blast with you. Hope to see more of you in the new year.”

Cisco rolled his eyes and quickly texted back “You saw plenty of me last night. You’re so corny”

After hesitating for a moment, Cisco texted again, “But I also had a blast and we should def do it again soon”

“Sounds like a plan” Harry texted back and Cisco bit his lip, thinking of another night promised with Harry. He was a little bit irritating, for lack of better word, and there were moments where Cisco kind of wanted to strangle him, but boy did they have chemistry…

With another twist and turn, Cait was picking Cisco up for the party.

“What did you end up doing last night?” Cait asked, in the car.

“Honestly, I went out to the bar and had a one night stand,” Cisco winced as he told Cait.

“Did you really??” Cait grinned. “Give me all the details, why didn’t you text me where you were?? What if he had been a murderer?”

Cisco laughed. “I have my pepper spray, don’t worry. I can handle myself. He was… very smart. A little older than me. Kinda sarcastic in this really annoying way.”

Cait was looking at Cisco. “And how was it?”

Cisco rolled his eyes. “It was really nice and I had a really good time.” He said, looking out the window again and avoiding Cait’s reaction.

“Did you get his number??”

“Oh my god, Cait, enough of the third degree!”

When Cisco peeked at Cait, she was still grinning from ear to ear. Cisco groaned and filled Caitlin in on the rest of the details.

“Wow, Cisco. Good for you!” Cait complimented as they got to the party and started getting out of the car.

“Thank you, it was fun, yes, and hopefully I will see him again, but now it’s time to enjoy this party! So please, no more Nancy Drew-ing my love life, okay?”

Caitlin pretended to zip her lips. “Time to party,”

Cisco smiled. “Thank you!”

***

Cisco had tried his honest to god best, to continue and forget all about Harry.

They had been at the party a little over an hour, when Cisco spotted him. “Oh shit. I’ve gotta be fucking dreaming,” Cisco muttered to himself.

“What are you doing?” Cait asked as Cisco was suddenly hiding behind a waiter holding a tray of appetizers.

“Nothing,” Cisco replied, stealing a glance from behind the waiter, to see if Harry had noticed him. He was a little ways away, standing profile, speaking with some woman in a fabulous pant suit, and it didn’t seem like he had spotted Cisco yet.

“Are you hiding from Dr. McGee? She adores you, she wants you to come work with us.” Cait asked, narrowing her eyes.

“That’s who that is. Nope. Actually, yes, I am hiding from Tina McGee, I don’t want her to see me in this hideous tie I picked out with champagne glasses on it.” Cisco lied, poorly.

Cait rolled her eyes but then narrowed her eyes at Harry. She was starting to put the pieces together.

“Cisco…”

“Listen, Cait, I think I’m gonna have to go home early, I’m getting a terrible stomach ache…”

“Cisco, is that the man you slept with last night??” Cait whisper yelled at Cisco, pulling him out from behind the waiter with the appetizers and dragging him to the entrance.

“What? Where would you get a crazy idea like that?” Cisco laughed, nervously this time.

Cait looked at Cisco and blinked, waiting for him to come clean.

Cisco pursed his lips. “Not gonna buy the stomach ache story, huh?” Cisco asked.

Cait laughed. “You’re the worst. Just go over and talk to him. Just say hi and make it not awkward, and then come find me. I’ll be mingling.”

“Fine.” Cisco grimaced. “I can’t believe I told you any of that. This is the worst New years party ever,” Cisco whispered to Cait before going off to find Harry.

Cisco spotted his tall demeanor at the drink table. He was grabbing another glass of champagne. Cisco took a deep breath and approached Harry.

“So… Do you come here often?” Cisco asked, mirroring Harry’s words from the night before.

Harry glanced up at Cisco. His eyes were wide. He took a swig of his champagne before he answered.

“That line ever worked on anyone before?” Harry asked with a tight lipped smirk. They smiled at each other, in shared loaded silence for a moment.

“Did you know I was going to be here?” Cisco asked, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Did you know I was going to be here?” Harry turned it around.

“Touché.” Cisco commented, grabbing a champagne glass and offering Harry a toast. Harry tipped his glass to clink with Cisco’s and they shared a drink.

“Well, I just wanted to say hello. Enjoy your evening.” Cisco said.

“Alright, Cisco. But I have to warn you, these things are dreadfully boring,” Harry commented.

Cisco laughed and headed back off to find Caitlin.

“All sorted out?” Cait asked.

“Easy, peasy,” Cisco said in reply.

“I don’t even want to know.” Cait said.

Forty-five minutes later and Cisco was starting to get what Harry meant. This was a giant party but people kept going in and out, finding different groups to linger in, it was impossible to keep track of who you had and hadn’t met yet. All these academic types started to blend together after a while. It was honestly starting to give Cisco a headache.

Cisco gave a sharp gasp when someone grabbed his arm, suddenly.

“Sorry, did I scare you?” Harry’s rasp was soft in Cisco’s ear and his fingers were tight but gentle holding Cisco’s arm. Where had he even come from?

“A little,” Cisco admitted, looking up at Harry.

“Aren’t you bored yet?” Harry asked again, soft this time leaning all the way in, to whisper in Cisco’s ear. “If you’re as bored as I am, you should meet me up on the rooftop in fifteen minutes.”

Cisco felt shivers up and down his spine, and said, “Make it ten,”

Harry grinned and walked off. Cisco was thankful that Cait was otherwise occupied talking to a gaggle of her coworkers.

Cisco waited four agonizing minutes before nodding at Cait and then walking off down the hallway to find Harry.

He took the elevator up to the top floor. He followed the signs for the staircase. Cisco went up a half flight of stairs and found a door which was propped ajar with a rock. On the door it said, “Roof access, CAUTION”

Cisco slipped through the door careful to keep the rock propping it open.

He looked around, “Harry?” He whispered.

“Over here,”

Harry was draped in shadow, leaned against a chimney. He held open arms to Cisco.

“You’re not worried we’re gonna get stuck up here?” Cisco asked as he got slowly closer

“You saying you wouldn’t want to be stuck up here with me?” Harry teased

Cisco laughed and then, finally, he was close enough that Harry pulled Cisco to him and they kissed, gravitating together like magnets.

***

Cisco returned to the party a little while later looking very red and with very messed up hair.

Cait quirked her head at him when he returned. “Where have you been? You look like you’ve been in a fight.”

Cisco gave her a small grin. “You should see the other guy,”

Cait narrowed her eyes at Cisco.

“You’re lucky you made it back in time for the count down.”

Harry and Cisco made eye contact from across the room. They were each pretty happy that they had gotten to steal away for a little while.

Cait and Cisco tried to maneuver themselves closer to where the action was happening.

Cisco lost sight of Harry in their move.

Suddenly they were counting down from thirty and Harry had come up right behind Cisco.

When the clock struck zero, Harry took Cisco by the arm and swung him around to face him. “Happy New Year, Cisco,” Harry whispered, and suddenly dipped Cisco low, kissing him deeply.

Cisco gasped but was thrilled by the most exciting New Years kiss he could imagine.

Harry stood them both back up and when they broke apart, he chuckled sheepishly as anyone who saw them, wolf-whistled and shouted. “I thought you were my secretary from behind! Your long hair!” Harry winked at Cisco who bit his lower lip, shaking his head at Harry’s sneakiness and terrible excuse.

Cisco touched his lips where they had kissed, only seconds before. “Honest mistake,” He said, eyes glaring daggers at Harry and Harry grinning like a lunatic. Halfway across the room Christina McGee looked a fraction more stressed out than she had already.

“Happy New Year, everyone!” Harry shouted and made off into the crowd.

Cait leaned over to whisper to Cisco. “He is something else.”

Cisco smiled and touched his lips, where Harry’s had just been. “You’re telling me.”

#harrisco #new years eve #nye #harrisco drabbles #this is silly but i had fun writing it!#so there's that #happy new year

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capricornus-rex · 4 years

Note

Hey Hon! I know you’re cramped with requests and the “Old Friend, New Family” story so feel free to do this one whenever you’re ready! No rush! ☺️💖 Cal not knowing the reader has arachnophobia so when they go to Kashyyyk and are attacked by a huge, albino Wyyyschokk, she freaks out? To the point where she’s completely out of her wits, panic mode on FULL, and just scared to death? I have arachnophobia so when I had to play Kashyyyk, it was the worst experience of my life ;////3////;

Honestly, those spiders always give me the creeps and make me shudder ;;A;; Also, so very sorry for not publishing so soon! :( But good thing I just brought home my newly-fixed laptop today!! <3 I hope I can make it up to you and everyone with the fics. I’ll try my best to really keep publishing. Don’t worry, I’m not planning on quitting. Why would I? ;3 I’m having a blast with everyone here!!!

“In the Face of Fear” | Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: Kashyyyk has its own charms and surprises, but what if one of those said surprises rear its ugly, unpleasant head right in front of you in the form of a spider that’s the size of a boulder?

Tags: Arachnophobia, Wyyyschokk, Matriarch Wyyyschokk, Kashyyyk, Arachnophobic! Reader

Also in AO3

Next: Part 2 | Masterlist

1 of ?

You and Cal finish off the last wave of Stormtroopers.

The partisan informants were right about the Imps getting into the forest to find Tarfful’s home village—which also doubles as a hideout for the Wookiees and a handful of partisans now led by Mari Kosan after Saw had left them.

“Good thing they haven’t come close to the hideout itself,” Cal commented.

“No,” you scoffed a chuckle. “They have a lot to go through besides us.”

Beneath your snarky, roguish facade, you clench your fist as you fight off the chill travelling down your spine when you catch the cluster of hatched Wyyyschokk eggs glued to a tree trunk. Cal spotted your grimace, you’re not taking your eyes off of those empty, shattered shells.

“You sure can’t stop looking at them,”

“I want to, but… Oh, I don’t know,” you shrugged.

“Come on, let’s get away from them. Those hatchlings could be close,”

“Heeeey!!” you whined, he laughed in response. You playfully tackled him from behind as he walked ahead of you.

It was a tedious trek to the hideout village—but that’s its advantage—both Jedi had to cross paths with a few more creatures before getting to any of the watchtowers or huts. You’re just secretly thankful that you haven’t run into any Wyyyschokks yet—most especially the albino, which happens to be the rarest of its kind.

You tread the forest with more caution than care, your eyes pan from tree-to-tree—searching for signs of eggs and webs—and Cal was quiet about noticing your anxiety. He knew you hated it when your phobia is being pointed out in some way, though he figured you’d like to talk about it just to vent it out.

For someone who isn’t familiar with the terrain of Kashyyyk, it can either be mesmerizing or downright frightening. It goes both ways for you. It becomes the latter when you and Cal stumbled upon a wrong turn due to the labyrinthine layout of the forest. Cal realizes his mistake and attempts to solve it.

“Hey, Cal, are you sure you saw a marker in a tree hollow?”

“I think so,” he replied, with the doubt evident in his voice. “Okay, I really think we took a wrong turn.”

BD-1 politely cut in and flashed the holomap, both Jedi navigated with their eyes, occasionally pointing at patches of land and tracking their would-be path.

“I think we cut across this upper level of the forest, there should be—”

You could’ve sworn you heard something shuffle behind your backs. Your abrupt turning unintentionally cut off Cal in the middle of his explaining.

“[Y/N], you okay?”

“Did you hear that?”

A pause. He listened in on the silence.

A simple rustle of the flora simply heightened your senses—mostly propelled by fear—and then the thing that neither of you noticed before has caught your attention.

“[Y/N], honestly, are you alright?”

You didn’t answer, you kept scanning the area and knew completely well that something isn’t sitting right with you.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you sighed, and stepped forward. “I’m just jumpy, that’s all—”

“[Y/N], BACK AWAY!!!”

Too late! By the time Cal had noticed that you were walking into a literal trap and tried to get you out of it, he was pushed back when the most enormous and most brightly-colored Wyyyschokk both of you have ever seen pounced on you. It had been patiently waiting for either of you to step on its web trap on the ground—and you went right into it. The creature entrapped you with its legs as thick as tree roots, you wriggle helplessly as you couldn’t take your eyes off of its multitude of bulbous, full black eyes, and its mandibles foaming with bile—hungry for flesh—twitch and flick above your bosom.

You let out what ought to be the loudest scream your chords could ever produce; once out of breath, you inhale and exhale rapidly. Your throat goes sore from the shouting that it stings whenever air would enter your windpipe.

The words are dislodged in your throat—you wanted to scream for help but cannot—your voice renders itself absent in your mouth, and only the silence brought upon by the sheer horror of this monster’s overall appearance, and in an uncomfortable closeness with you too.

Cal ran up to it, leapt, and drove his saber into its plump, jiggling hind abdomen. It screeched—a shrill, piercing wail that left a high-pitch noise in the ears—and turned to the offensive against Cal. That was your signal to get up, but the terror had paralyzed you; instead, the entire scuffle with that gigantic Wyyyschokk happened right before your eyes—just like with the eggshells, you cannot look away no matter how much you want to, the longer you look the more materialized your fear becomes. The redhead succeeded in a series of parries to disorient the creature.

“[Y/N], get to the high ground!”

His warning fell on deaf ears. You’re still stuck in staring at the spider, with your back against the wall.

“Bee-beeee, triiiillll!!!”

“I know, BD, I know!”

The little droid warned Cal that you were still frozen stuck in harm’s way, and he needed to think fast to get both of you out of this mess. He cleanly blocked the Wyyyschokk’s incoming wave of attacks, searing its fangs and hairy legs with his lightsaber upon parrying—and while the creature was distracted by its wounds, Cal fished out a flashbomb. He turned his heel to you before the area would be engulfed in bright light in a matter of a split second. He snatched you by the arm, pulled you up, and that woke you from that frozen trance of fear.

“We gotta move!”

The Wyyyschokk thrashed and erratically scampered left and right in search of its prey, you and Cal were making your escape through a pinch in the wall; the enemy tried to catch up but you had already squeezed through the end, its pointed legs jerked as it fitted through the crack, desperately trying to claw either of you just for a scrap of meat.

Life was still flashing before your eyes even after the Wyyyschokk gave up its pursuit. Your heart pounded louder than the Wookiees’ war drums, so much so that your breath cannot keep up with the pulse anymore, and your limbs have returned to its jelly-like state after you crawled your way out of the wall.

He noticed the rapid, sharp breaths that you take. There was also a wetness glossing over the surface of your eyes.

“Are you hurt?”

You couldn’t speak, still shell-shocked by the assault, and slowly shook your head as a response. The tears persist.

“Come on,”

A single touch—gentle and slight—was enough to make you jolt. You were ceaselessly apologetic. For what, exactly? Cal patiently waited for you to calm yourself and eventually helped you. When he thought you were ready, he held out his hand for you.

Slow and steady—Cal took the lead again, and he made sure you were okay along the way. Eventually, you did reach the hideout, but the trauma still hasn’t left your system and you have no idea how to get it out. A partisan was out there to greet you, but the first thing he acknowledges is the horror in your blank stare.

“Is [Y/N] alright?”

“Not really, we just stumbled upon the biggest Wyyyschokk we’ve ever seen,”

“Wait, does this Wyyyschokk happen to have brighter colors than the rest?”

Both Jedi exchanged glances, trying to recall the appearance of the monstrosity, and then the two of you looked at the rebel again; though, it was Cal who did most of the conversing.

“Come to think of it, yeah, it was a bit more vibrant than the others,”

“Oh, well,” the partisan scratched the back of his head, evidently reluctant to break it to you. “I think you guys just met the Matriarch Wyyyschokk.”

Your spine reduced to jelly again, goosebumps pelt your skin as a chill coated your shoulders, your eyes widened so much that they’d almost pop out of your sockets!

“I’m sorry,” you blinked several times, almost comically. “Run that by me again, soldier?”

“The Matriarch Wyyyschokk. Their mother. The mama spider.”

“I know what ‘matriarch’ means! But good gods, those things have a mother?!”

“Well, how do you expect to be so many of them wandering around without one?” the partisan shrugged.

“That’s just spectacular,” you say half-heartedly.

“Just steer clear of its den,”

“Thanks, we’ll remember that!” you whined.

Your hysterics still haven’t died down by the time both of you and Cal waltz through the network of bridges to start a little tour of the village.

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jaxl-road · 4 years

Text

The League of Extraordinary Rockstars, ch.8

Summary: LA is a hub for music and mutants, making it the perfect place for Motley Crue, Guns N’ Roses, and countless other mutant musicians to call home. But it’s not all easy, especially when it comes to finding a decent place to live. So what better solution than moving in together in the mansion of an immortal? Love, drama, and super powers. If nothing else, it’ll be interesting.

Chapter Warnings: Language, genderswap!Steven

AN: This is a collaboration between myself and @the–blackdahlia! It combines elements from her fic “It’s So Easy (And Other Lies)” (specifically her genderswapped!Steven) and my super powered GnR series. It is completely AU and ignores timelines like Woah, but hopefully you’ll have as much fun reading it as we’re having writing it! Let us know what you think!

AN pt 2: It was entirely my fault that this chapter took so long, so special shout out to @the--blackdahlia for being so patient and kind while I got my shit together <3 <3 <3

~~~~~~~~

The night was spent with Stevie, Duff, and Izzy just talking, drinking, and trying to figure things out. Izzy had opted to return to his own bed for the night, and Stevie and Duff didn’t press him to stay, even though Stevie did pout when he said goodnight.

“I hope he realizes this isn’t a joke,” Stevie yawned.

“I’m sure he knows,” Duff smiled, “Let’s get you to bed pretty girl.”

Despite drinking more than Izzy and Duff had, Stevie was up before them the next morning, preparing to make breakfast for, what she assumed would be just her, Duff, and Izzy. But she knew she couldn’t get away with that.

That being said, she was on the lookout for a wild CC Deville to come crawling out of the cabinets at any minute.

She was so focused on being prepared for the potential Poison guitarist, that she ended up nearly screaming when she tossed a towel onto the kitchen table and it landed on a camouflaged Slash.

“God fucking dammit, Slash!” Stevie clutched her chest as the guitarist grumbled, shaking his head to get the towel off his hair and becoming visible again, “WHY are you sleeping out here?”

“Good question,” he stretched his arms over his head, “I was having some drinks with Tommy and Nikki. I must have passed out and they left me here.”

“That sounds about right,” She breathed. “Wait, since when do you have drinks with Tommy and Nikki?”

“Must have a death wish,” Vince commented as he came down the stairs with a satisfied grin on his face, “Morning guys! God, last night…”

“I don’t want to know,” Stevie turned away, missing the glare Slash shot him “I’ve gotta work on breakfast. You two, keep watch for CC.”

“We apparently need CC traps to go with the live traps Tommy wants to set up to catch that fucking raccoon,” Vince laughed, winking at Slash, who huffed and turned away. “Was it something I said?”

Stevie rolled her eyes as she started pulling items out of the fridge, “Vince, don’t be an ass.”

“That’s just his natural state,” Slash commented.

“If you think you can kill my good mood with your attitude you’re wrong,” Vince crossed his arms.

Ignoring the bickering rockers behind her, Stevie focused on the stove in front of her. Her cooking skills weren’t high class, but she figured she could handle some scrambled eggs and bacon, so she got started.

“I need Tommy to teach me to cook,” Stevie said to no one, “His cooking is amazing.”

“Yeah, if he kept cooking, I’d get fat,” Vince commented.

“Good,” Slash muttered under his breath. Before Vince could say anything, Kelly came down the stairs.

“What are you two bickering about?” He asked as he stretched to loosen his muscles. “It’s too early for this.”

“Apparently Vince is just planning on fighting everyone in Guns N’ Roses,” Stevie called over her shoulder.

“Hey!” Vince threw his hand up, “I’d never fight you, Stevie!”

“What are you talking about? I’ve seen you two bicker dozens of times,” Kelly chimed in.

“I can’t believe you’re all ganging up on me,” Vince huffed, “So rude.”

Snickering, Stevie finished the first pan of bacon, a few pieces maybe borderline burnt, but nothing any of the boys would complain about. She got started on a second batch before looking over her shoulder. “What are the odds of you guys actually making your own breakfast instead of stealing mine?”

“Slim to none,” Slash grinned. Stevie shook her head as Tommy and Nikki joined them.

“Good morning son,” Nikki patted Kelly on the shoulder.

“Oh my god that’s not over yet?” Kelly sighed.

“Nope!” Tommy smiled, “Oooo breakfast. I love food.”

“It pisses me off that you can eat and eat and never gain a pound,” Baz popped into the kitchen. “I want your metabolism.”

Stevie groaned at the increase in people in the kitchen. She wasn’t even that surprised when she went to place the second batch of bacon on the plate to find half of the first batch gone.

“Tommy!” She whined, spinning around and putting her hands on her hips, “At least let me finish before you steal my food!”

“What?” The speedster blinked, “I didn’t do anything!”

“Yeah right,” she rolled her eyes, “Look, I’m gonna make enough for everyone so just wait a few minutes!”

“But I-” Tommy flailed, sputtering as he tried to defend himself while the group chuckled at him.

“Where’s Ax?” Slash asked as he turned to Sebastian, “You usually drag him out with you.”

“Oh, yeah, he’s probably not gonna be around today,” the teleporter smiled sadly, “He’s in a, y’know… a mood. I was just gonna take some food back to our room.”

Stevie frowned, “Oh. Well, I’m making some eggs in a minute, but you can take some-” she turned to gesture to the plate of bacon only to find it nearly empty. “Oh come on!” She snapped in frustration.

“Third cabinet on the left,” Mick stated nonchalantly as he shuffled into the room.

Blinking in confusion, Stevie opened the cabinet in question and cursed loudly.

“Oh for fucks sake, CC!”

“I was hungry! You said you were gonna share!” The guitarist pouted around a mouthful of bacon.

“Why are you even here?” Tommy asked. “And why are you in a cabinet?”

“Alright, come on,” Mick pulled CC out of the cabinet, dragging the other guitarist out. Stevie sighed.

“I have a headache now,” She groaned. Tommy went to finish up the cooking while Duff and Izzy finally joined everyone. Once there was enough food ready, Sebastian was quick to make two plates and retreat back to his and Axl’s room, the tall singer awkwardly avoiding even looking in Izzy’s direction.

Not that Izzy noticed. He was too caught up in his own head as he tried to figure out how he was supposed to act around Duff and Stevie now. The night before, they had talked as if he would be another boyfriend, but that could have just been for his benefit. It didn’t mean they would appreciate him invading their space in front of the others. Did Duff even like guys?

It was too early for this. He needed coffee.

"Morning sweetie," Stevie greeted Duff. "Morning honey," She kissed Izzy's cheek, making him blush. "I'm gonna go lay on the couch. Fucking CC gave me a migraine." She walked off, mumbling about how he even got in there.

She had just flopped back onto the couch when Kelly suddenly entered her field of vision, the bassist grinning widely as he leaned over the back of the couch.

“I couldn’t help but notice,” he smirked, “you gave a certain guitarist a little smooch this morning.”

Stevie grinned back at him, “Hey, it was your idea!”

“Yeah, but you were so shy and nervous, I didn’t think you’d have the balls to actually do it,” he teased, laughing as Stevie punched him hard on the shoulder. “But for real,” he softened, “it all worked out?”

“Yeah, I think so,” She smiled. “He said yes at least...” Her eyes darkened a little before she shook her head and grinned, “So now you really don’t get to tap this anymore.”

“I hate you,” Kelly laughed, “But don’t worry. I sowed my wild oats last night.”

“Kelly, it’s the 20th century. You don’t have to talk like an old farmer.”

“I am appalled you called me a farmer,” Kelly said in mock annoyance, making Stevie laugh.

“I seriously have a migraine though,” Stevie told him, to which Kelly responded by yelling:

“Duff! Izzy! Come help Stevie!” He turned to look at her, with her eyes scrunched up, “You’re welcome.”

The two men quickly wandered into the living room, Izzy clutching his coffee like a lifeline while Duff chewed on a piece of toast. “What’s wrong?” The blonde asked, mouth still full, “Stevie, are you alright?”

"Just a headache…"

"You said migraine!" Kelly yelled, making Izzy give him a death stare.

“If she said migraine,” he replied, softly but coldly, “then why the fuck are you making it worse with your shouting?”

“Shit…” Kelly smiled sheepishly. “I’m just gonna go…” He quickly left, leaving Izzy and Duff with Stevie.

“I’m okay guys,” Stevie waved them off.

“Are you sure?” Duff questioned quietly, tossing his toast onto the coffee table carelessly as he approached the drummer, “Do you want me to grab Mick?”

Izzy shuffled uncomfortably. He didn’t want to leave, but he felt like he was intruding.

"Izzy, baby, tell Duff he's overreacting," Stevie smiled at Izzy. "I just need some cuddles from my boys."

It took a moment for the guitarist to respond- his brain short-circuited every time someone called him a pet name, and he was still trying to figure out his place here. It had been less than twelve hours and all his assumptions about what this relationship was had started to crumble in his hands. And he had no idea if that was good or bad.

“You heard the glowstick,” he finally responded, forcing a wry grin on his face as he turned to Duff, “Keep calm and get cuddling.”

Stevie smiled and reached for them, wanting cuddles. She sighed happily as they settled down by her.

"Thank you guys," She smiled. She kissed each other their cheeks and giggled when Izzy’s cheeks turned red, “Maybe today we can just be lazy? Apparently Axl might be MIA today, so we won’t have to like, seriously rehearse,” a small frown crossed Izzy’s face, but Stevie didn’t notice and carried on, “Although you know I’m always down to jam with you guys,” she grinned widely.

“That sounds awesome. Maybe we could switch instruments. I bet Izzy would look good playing your drums.” Duff suggested.

“Oh, I know he would!” Stevie said excitedly.

Izzy rolled his eyes, a small smirk of amusement on his face and his cheeks still slightly pink. Unable to resist, Stevie leaned forward to give him a quick kiss on the lips. But her plan was foiled when instead of feeling lightly chapped lips, she instead felt nothing but air as she fell forward, landing across the couch with a soft ‘oof’.

“Shit, fuck, I’m sorry,” Izzy stood rapidly, his body gliding through Stevie and Duff. His shoulders hitched up around his ears, a guilty and embarrassed look on his face, and the two blondes would bet money that he was still intangible even as he stood out of their reach.

While Slash definitely had the worst control of his abilities among the group, Izzy wasn’t far behind, especially when it came to unconscious control. When he was calm or in a good mood, he was fine. But the second he started feeling emotional or frazzled, he had trouble staying solid. And emotional and frazzled were understatements as far as how he had been feeling the past week.

"Are you OK?" Stevie questioned as Duff helped her sit up. "Did I do something?"

"No," Izzy sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Hey, it's ok." Stevie smiled at him, the light brighter. "As long as you're not falling into the girls locker room…"

"Axl fucking told you about that?" Izzy sighed. "Fucking Bill…" The redhead loved to tease him for the many mishaps that had occurred when his powers first emerged in their first year of high school. He was a little convinced that Axl had some sort of secondary power that allowed him to always be present anytime Izzy embarrassed himself.

Frowning to himself, he wondered if he should try to talk to Axl about what happened the other day, but before he could dwell on it his thoughts were interrupted when Duff chimed in.

“Hey, don’t stress dude, we all had shit happen when our abilities popped up,” he grinned, “For like, the first year or something anytime I got startled a bunch of fog would surround me.”

“Aw, that’s so cute!” Stevie laughed, “Little baby smoke machine!”

“Hey! Slash told me about you blinding your school photographer!” Duff told her.

“It’s not my fault! He told me to give my biggest smile. I couldn’t help it,” Stevie defended.

“Nice to know nothing has changed,” Duff teased.

“Izzy, help me out here,” Stevie begged. “Please?”

Huffing out a laugh, the guitarist shook his head fondly, “I mean, you do have a very… bright smile.”

Duff laughed as Stevie pouted, crossing her arms petulantly, “Aw, it’s not a bad thing! You’re our Sunshine!” He wrapped his arms around her, the drummer unable to keep a straight face as he rested his chin on her head.

“Good thing you two are cute or we’d have a real problem,” She told them as she snuggled into Duff. Izzy was about to say something when Tommy came barreling into the room.

“Guys! Guys! Look at this book I found in Nikki’s shit!” Tommy tossed a heavy book on the table and everyone got a chill down their spines.

“Well that certainly looks… ominous,” Duff said slowly. The book was thick and leather bound, black with red writing in a language that didn’t look familiar to any of them. Stevie reached out and touched the book. When she did, the wind picked up a little bit.

“Wasn’t me,” Duff told them when they all looked at him.

“Let’s crack this baby open!” Tommy said, excitedly. “Maybe there’s naked pictures in there.”

“Probably all of you,” Izzy smirked and Tommy rolled his eyes, but then looked a little nervous. Picking up the book again, he flipped it over to glance suspiciously at the back cover, tracing his finger over the strange symbol on the back. Shivering slightly, he put it back on the coffee table, squeezing to sit on the couch beside the other three.

“Alright, the curiosity is killing me!” With that, he flipped the cover open, quick like ripping off a bandaid. The four rockers leaned over to look at the first page.

Duff, Stevie, and Izzy, frowned at the words written there. “What the Hell?” Izzy stated.

“Seriously,” Tommy chimed in, “What sort of book needs a disclaimer like that?” Three sets of eyes snapped to look at the speedster. When he noticed them staring, he blinked in confusion, “What?”

“You can read Latin?” Duff questioned.

“Huh? No way, isn’t that like, a dead language or something?”

“Can you read this?” Duff pointed to the page.

“Yeah?”

“It’s in Latin,” he squinted at the words, “at least I’m pretty sure it is. Definitely not English though.”

Tommy’s eyes widened comically, looking between the figures beside him and the book on the table. Then with a gust of superspeed, he slammed the cover shut, huddling against the back of the couch away from the book, “How much did I snort this morning?”

"Whatever it was, you should share," Stevie told him.

"What did it say?" Izzy quizzed Tommy.

“It said ‘Tommy, I’m gonna kick your fucking ass’.” The group jumped, turning around to find Nikki scowling at them. Stalking forward, he snatched the book off the table as Tommy rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Y’know, that’s actually pretty close to what it said.”

"Wait, how do you know what it says?" Nikki asked.

"Uh, well, you see…"

"Tell me what this says?" Nikki held out the book and pointed to a small part that no one could read, except Tommy.

"Property of Cherie Curry and Lita...Ford...oh fuck…."

“What? What’s wrong?” Izzy asked.

“Nothing!” Nikki and Tommy blurted out in sync. There was a long pause, Tommy fidgeting in his seat while Nikki glared at him and hugged the book protectively to his chest.

“Oh gee, look at the time,” Tommy stood nervously, “I think I hear Mick… somewhere.... Sorrybabedidn’tmeantobyyyye!” and with that, the drummer was gone in a blur.

“Dammit, T-Bone! You can run but you can’t hide!” The skin around Nikki’s eyes glowed orange as he ran off to track down his boyfriend, leaving the three Guns members to stare after him in confusion.

"What just happened?" Stevie asked.

"I don't know, but I'm going to go raid Kelly’s prohibition room," Izzy sighed, heading straight for the basement.

#guns n' roses #gnr #Motley Crue #My writing #other people's writing #Fem!Steven #Izzy Stradlin #duff mckagan #slash #axl rose #Sebastian Bach #nikki sixx #Tommy Lee #Vince Neil #Mick Mars #Kelly Nickels #cc deville

41 notes · View notes

dallanebbia · 4 years

Text

betsubara

title: betsubara fandom: bnha pariring: kacchako; bakugou katsuki x uraraka ochako word count: 3.9k (including text in posts) warnings: none synopsis: in which the u.a. test kitchen tries its hand at the whole youtube thing, and the internet collectively ships kacchako. bon appetit test kitchen au + socmed au notes: written for day 3 of kacchako week 2020, with the prompt ‘desserts & sweets.’ i know that BA has its share of problems, but i really wanted to write this after stumbling across ba test kitchen fanfics on ao3 and some social media aus on twitter… i have so much respect for people who make smau fics, i don’t know how you do it. ochako here is a bizarre mix of brad leone, solha el-waylly, liziqi and emmymadeinjapan, and bakguou…. is bakugou :’) ao3: [link]

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別腹 | betsubara (n.) – Japanese, second stomach for dessert

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Susan Anderson @susan.anderson – Jun 29, 2XXX My grandchildren said I would enjoy watching the UA test kitchen youtube channel, but I don’t know where to start. Can someone please give me some suggestions? Why do they change chefs in every video? 62 🗨️ 133 ⭮ 869k ♡

...

↳ Just Call Me Midoriya (✓) @dekiru – Jun 30, 2XXX Replying to @susan.anderson Hi Susan! I’m the kitchen manager for @ua_testkitchen, and I’d be happy to help! We have playlists for each of our web series on our YouTube channel, but I’ll do my best to explain each series below. 23 🗨️ 241 ⭮ 3.2k ♡

↳ Just Call Me Midoriya (✓) @dekiru – Jun 30, 2XXX Hot Takes – If you don’t mind some occasional foul language, this is a very popular series! Chef @bakugoukatsuki demonstrates techniques on how to make Japanese staples, from omurice to hand cut soba. It’s extremely educational! 123 🗨️ 213 ⭮ 3.5k ♡

↳ Just Call Me Midoriya (✓) @dekiru – Jun 30, 2XXX Bon Appetit – This series is all about French food, with Japanese twist! Chef @foreversparkling breaks down intimidating recipes like souffles, gougeres, and quiches for the amateur cook to try at home! 89 🗨️ 165 ⭮ 2.8k ♡

↳ Just Call Me Midoriya (✓) @dekiru – Jun 30, 2XXX Farm to Table – If you’re interested in where your food comes from, this is a great choice! Chef @u_ochako shows viewers what it takes to grow and cultivate ingredients. She also delves into the science behind making things like kombucha, natto, and beer! 155 🗨️ 188 ⭮ 3.9k ♡

↳ Just Call Me Midoriya (✓) @dekiru – Jun 30, 2XXX From Scratch – This is our only series with two hosts! We ask our chefs @shouto and @yaomomo to tackle the challenge of recreating popular junk food and snack items entirely from scratch. These can be anything, from your favorite candy to foreign staples like Twinkies! 102 🗨️ 288 ⭮ 2.7k ♡

↳ Just Call Me Midoriya (✓) @dekiru – Jun 30, 2XXX 10 Chefs – This series asks ten of our @ua_testkitchen chefs to undergo a series of culinary challenges of varying difficulties. These can range from cutting a durian to cooking a live lobster! 48 🗨️ 85 ⭮ 1.4k ♡

↳ Just Call Me Midoriya (✓) @dekiru – Jun 30, 2XXX The Great U.A. Bake Off – These are special videos that showcase U.A.’s biannual dessert competition! We invite renowned chef and television star @AllMight to join as our host and judge. Our resident pastry chef @satousugarman has held the title for the past four years! 99 🗨️ 174 ⭮ 2.1k ♡

↳ Just Call Me Midoriya (✓) @dekiru – Jun 30, 2XXX We also film various instructional videos, which are not part of any particular series. These can be recipes or in-depth guides to various kitchen tools and appliances. Hopefully these give you a good place to start, and feel free to contact me if you have any other questions! 21 🗨️ 98 ⭮ 1.1k ♡

...

↳ Susan Anderson @susan.anderson – Jul 01, 2XXX Thank you, Mr. Midoriya. I started watching Farm to Table, and I’m enjoying it a lot. I do have a question – I’m reading the comments, and there’s a cooking term I’m not familiar with. What is a “kacchako?” Is it a cooking appliance? 721 🗨️ 2.1k ⭮ 8.9k ♡

...

↳ Just Call Me Midoriya (✓) @dekiru – Jul 02, 2XXX Replying to @susan.anderson … Um. 202 🗨️ 4.3k ⭮ 10.4k ♡

↳ jfc they’re actually clueless @hitoshinsou – Jul 02, 2XXX Replying to @susan.anderson and @dekiru yeah @dekiru, what is a kacchako? 180 🗨️ 961 ⭮ 2.9k ♡

… 331 more replies

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“Hey guys!” Uraraka waved cheerfully at the camera. “My name is Uraraka Ochako, and welcome back to Farm to Table, a show where we explore where our food comes from!”

“For today’s episode, we’re going to be doing something a liiittle different.” On the counter was a pile of misshapen brown lumps, mottled with different black and brown spots. “On our cacao episode, a lot of you were a little… shall we say, disappointed with me, when I didn’t make chocolate out of a cacao pod.”

Uraraka’s smile turned icy, as a screenshot popped up on screen. She held up a little slip of paper from her hand and cleared her voice.

“ ‘Making chocolate isn’t easy,’ ” she read, widening her eyes for emphasis. “ ‘This girl has no idea what she’s talking about.’ ”

The dark, saccharine expression on her face never faltered as she ripped up the paper into tiny pieces, throwing bits over her shoulder.

“Now, I’m here to show you that actually, yes – making chocolate can be easy!” The hard smile was replaced by a warm grin. “My friends at Tokyo Cacao sent me some pods to work with, and lucky for us, they’re ripe and ready to go!”

She beamed, picking up a pod and showing it off to the camera. “I’ll show you guys how to turn these bad boys into chocolate - and after that, I’m gonna share one of my favorite chocolate recipes with you!”

Uraraka then grinned mischievously. “First things first – we gotta crack this little guy open.” Reaching under the countertop, she whipped out a gigantic chef’s knife. It was easily as long as Uraraka’s forearm, and the polished blade was engraved with two characters that clearly read, ‘Bakugou.’

A choking sound was heard off screen.

“Holy shit Uraraka, you took it?!” A man popped into frame, gaping at the knife in Uraraka’s hand. “Dude, Bakugou’s been looking for that all morning - he’s going to kill you for real this time!”

“Not if he doesn’t find out,” she said seriously, fixing the blonde man with a pointed look. “You’re not going to rat me out, are you, Kaminari?”

“And get killed in his Baku-rage? No thanks.” He shivered, staring at the knife as if it was going to attack him. “At least you’ve got a chance of surviving.”

Uraraka laughed, rolling her eyes. “You’re acting like he’s going to eat you or something.”

“You don’t know about poor Mineta,” Kaminari looked grave as he closed his eyes in a moment of silence, before scurrying out of frame. He called out, “If anyone, especially Bakubro, asks – I was never here!”

“O… kay?... ” Uraraka blinked at the camera for a few moments and then shook her head in amusement. “Anyways, back to the topic – opening the pod! The rind is pretty thick and slippery, so be careful where you’re cutting! The best way is to set the edge of the knife in one of the grooves and give it a good whack, like this - !”

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Pro Chef Makes Omurice | Hot Takes | U.A. Test Kitchen 3,439,062 views ･ August 29, 2XXX

To quote our favorite foul-mouthed chef: “Even a F***ing idiot can make omurice.”

Join Bakugou Katsuki in the U.A. Test Kitchen as he makes a Japanese comfort food staple, omurice. This isn’t your average, amateur omurice omelette video - Bakugou breaks down the special tricks and techniques he uses to achieve the perfect taste, shape and texture. His recipe uses buttery chicken, fried…

[SHOW MORE]

10,237 comments

hvf26 – 3 hours ago Japanese gordon ramsey 👍 2.7K 👎 REPLY ⯆ View 25 replies

TipTop – 2 hours ago new drinking game: take a shot every time you hear “fuck” EDIT: 13 shots in and 18 minutes left, i give up 👍 8.6K 👎 REPLY ⯆ View 93 replies

shroomaster3110 – 9 hours ago bakugou: “even a fucking idiot can make omurice” also bakugou: “veal stock, red wine, honey, tomato paste, reduce for 3 days” me: instant ramen it is 👍 749 👎 REPLY ⯆ View 8 replies

obsssd1992 – 6 hours ago hOoly fuck the sound uraraka made when she tasted it 👍 9.4K 👎 REPLY ⯆ View 155 replies

vulcanus – 3 hours ago 7:33 cracking two eggs at the same time with one hand he really be flexing on us huh 👍 233K 👎 REPLY

periperi – 10 hours ago 22:18 is it just me or does bakugou look like he’s blushing??? like, his ears are so so red 👍 5.1K 👎 REPLY ⯆ View 84 replies

dinovino44 – 7 hours ago “just fucking flip it” I blinked and that shit literally went from goo to an omelet HOW 👍 144 👎 REPLY ⯆ View 3 replies

Angela B – 8 hours ago I would love to try this but i dont want to waste 17 dozen eggs trying to make it properly 👍 3.7K 👎 REPLY ⯆ View 29 replies

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“Oh fuck, that’s good,” Bakugou groaned, mouth full as he chewed. The mango-coconut tart in front of him was dotted with swirls of candied orange peel as a garnish, but it did nothing to hide the fact that the entire thing was dusted with a liberal coating of violent red chili powder.

At his side, Uraraka beamed, sniffling a little from the pervasive scent of spice in the air. “I added some lime too, just to break up the richness – it’s not too sweet?”

“S’fucking perfect.” Bakugou scarfed down the last bite of the piece in his hand. He let out another long moan, the sound of it deep and guttural, and Uraraka’s eyes widened as she stared, her cheeks turning red. “Screw it, I’m eating this for lunch.”

“Eh?” Uraraka blinked, snapping out of her daze just as the tray was snatched from her workbench. “Wait, wait – Bakugou! Give it back, I haven’t even tasted it yet!”

“Pft, like you wouldn’t down a carton of milk after one bite,” he scoffed, holding the tart above his head and trying to fend off Uraraka with his free hand as she pulled at his arm. “Fucking get off, Uraraka, I – !”

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SHIP KACCHAKO @retrograade – Aug 17, 2XXX alright since some of y’all are fucking BLIND here’s a list of every bakugou x uraraka moment on the u.a. test kitchen youtube channel (a thread) 184 🗨️ 5.3k ⭮ 12.6k ♡

↳ SHIP KACCHAKO @retrograade – Aug 17, 2XXX [01] the great u.a. Baking show, cheesecake: during taste tests bakugou hated every single person’s cheesecake EXCEPT uraraka’s peach and plum one. He said it was acceptable BUT THEN HE GOES BACK FOR ANOTHER PIECE 2 🗨️ 229 ⭮ 10.4k ♡

…

↳ SHIP KACCHAKO @retrograade – Oct 28, 2XXX [33] farm to table, jicama/watermelon: bakugou says there isn’t enough heat in the dipping sauce during taste tests, uraraka then pulls out the extra spicy version she made just for him and bakugou looks flabbergasted when he tries it and then HE TAKES THE SAUCE HOME 10 🗨️ 121 ⭮ 2.4k ♡

↳ SHIP KACCHAKO @retrograade – Nov 01, 2XXX [34] from scratch, shrimp chips: at 14:53 you can see bakugou and uraraka in the background working on something together and when aoyama comes in waving around a whisk like a madman bakugou PUTS HIS ARM AROUND HER WAIST AND PULLS HER OUT OF THE WAY 15 🗨️ 146 ⭮ 2k ♡

↳ SHIP KACCHAKO @retrograade – Nov 01, 2XXX [35] from scratch, shrimp chips: when uraraka’s taste testing the final versions, she tells bakugou to come and try them. Bakugou grabs the chip she’s eating out of her hand and takes a bite AND THEN STUFFS IT BACK IN HER MOUTH BEFORE WALKING AWAY 29 🗨️ 132 ⭮ 2.4k ♡

…

↳ SHIP KACCHAKO @retrograade – Jan 11, 2XXX [69] hot takes, udon: bakugou says he’s only doing this video because someone said he had to, and uraraka mouths at the camera “he can’t say no to me” and bakugou sees her doing it but just rolls his eyes HE DOESN’T DENY IT 34 🗨️ 204 ⭮ 1.8k ♡

↳ SHIP KACCHAKO @retrograade – Jan 11, 2XXX [70] hot takes, udon: bakugou’s testing the dough consistency and yells at uraraka to come over so he can compare it TO HER CHEEKS and the man no cap says “not soft enough, it needs more pounding” and the blush on her face AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH 119 🗨️ 451 ⭮ 3.6k ♡

↳ SHIP KACCHAKO @retrograade – Jan 24, 2XXX [71] the great u.a. bake off, pavlovas: honestly just take this entire episode as proof you can FEEL the tension through the screen my god. the way they’re play-fighting/flirting throughout the episode jesus fucking christ the flavor is immaculate 85 🗨️ 154 ⭮ 2.1k ♡

…

↳ SHIP KACCHAKO @retrograade – Mar 01, 2XXX [82] bon appetit, coq au vin: aoyama asks uraraka for help and bakugou literally spends the entire video glaring at aoyama from the background and ochako mouths “I’m almost done katsuki” at 15:43 SHE USES HIS FIRST NAME 26 🗨️ 98 ⭮ 1.9k ♡

↳ SHIP KACCHAKO @retrograade – Mar 09, 2XXX [83] hot takes, takoyaki: uraraka asks bakugou to taste test a smoothie for her and he goes, “the one you made yesterday was better” but later he says something about hating Mondays WHICH MEANS HE AND URARAKA WERE TOGETHER OVER THE WEEKEND 37 🗨️ 159 ⭮ 2k ♡

… 13 more replies

↳ teatime @kabedondon – 6h Replying to @retrograade the detail in this thread is scary but even more concerning is the fact that you’ve somehow managed to convince me, at the very minimum, that they’re fucking 13 🗨️ 1.1k ⭮ 4k ♡

↳ SHIP KACCHAKO @retrograade – 4h Replying to @kabedondon welcome to the club, hope you enjoy your stay 21 🗨️ 59 ⭮ 573 ♡

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Todoroki stared down at the gooey, green-streaked mess of chocolate in front of him mournfully. At his side, Yaoyorozu looked equally despondent, poking at the dull sheen of dark chocolate covering the biscuit in her hand.

“Should we…?” Todoroki glanced over hesitantly, and Yaoyorozu bit her lip.

“I was really hoping we’d get it this time.” She sighed heavily, before turning around. The camera zoomed out, the frame widening to show a few people milling around in the background. “Uraraka! Do you have a moment?”

A chirpy voice replied, “Sure!” Todoroki visibly sighed in relief, quickly dumping his mixing bowl into the sink of dirty dishes as Uraraka came into the shot.

“Huh, that’s definitely not right…” The brunette poked Yaoyorozu’s chocolate mixture with a frown. “What temperature did you heat this to?”

“45 degrees?” Uraraka hummed, scooping up a bit of the mixture and dumping it into her hand. She rubbed at it, frowning. “What did you use as your seeded chocolate?”

Todoroki slid the half-empty bag of chocolate chips across the counter, and Uraraka dumped a pile of them out. Little disks spilled across the marble, and she tested one piece between her clean fingers. “Uh, you know that you’re supposed to use tempered chocolate to seed, right?”

Todoroki opened his mouth, paused, then closed it abruptly. Yaoyorozu buried her face in her hands and audibly groaned.

“Hey, the good news is that you can totally reuse this!” Uraraka tried to smile encouragingly. “Did the matcha chocolate come out weird too, or –?”

“Oi, what the fuck is this?” The camera panned to the side, where Bakugou was holding up Todoroki’s abandoned mixing bowl in a fist, features twisted into a grimace. “Did all those e-cigs fry your brain, Half-and-half? Who the fuck doesn’t sift matcha before –”

“Hey, lay off of him, Bakugou.” Uraraka stomped over and snatched the bowl away. “Tempering is hard! And you know white chocolate is tricky.”

“Tch, please.” He scoffed. “What kind of idiot can’t temper chocolate?”

Uraraka’s eyes flashed, and she planted her arms on her waist. “Have you ever tempered chocolate before?”

“What kind of dumbass question is that?” Bakugou growled. “Course I have, I didn’t live under a fucking rock like these two morons.”

Yaoyorozu bristled indignantly, but Uraraka held up her hand. Todoroki just looked tired, and muttered under his breath, “Here we go again…”

“Then you wouldn’t mind giving us a demonstration, would you?” Bakugou looked at her sweet, smiling face suspiciously. “Or are you too chicken to prove it?”

Red eyes flashed dangerously. “... the fuck did you just say?”

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The video cut to a shot of lumpy, melted white goo, before zooming out to show Bakugou’s scowl. “What the fuck is wrong with this shitty chocolate?” He kept stirring, even more vigorously this time, and looked down at the mixture as if he was trying to set it on fire with his glare.

Todoroki and Yaoyorozu were tucked a little ways away, snickering quietly as they watched from a safe distance away. Across from Bakugou, leaning casually against the counter, Uraraka smiled gleefully.

“Hur-dur, ‘what kind of idiot can’t temper chocolate?’ ” she mimicked, her voice lowered in an approximation of the blonde’s low growl. Uraraka laughed, and then ducked as a chocolate-covered spatula sailed over her head.

“FUCK OFF, ROUND FACE!”

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smolbean678 reblogged kryssalys ochaakou:

reasons you should stan uraraka ochako, u.a.’s farming goddess and resident bakugou whisperer:

- has probably saved about half of the “from scratch” episodes by virtue of being the only person in the entire u.a. test kitchen who can consistently temper chocolate

- speaking of chocolate, this woman pulled the hardest flex by making her own chocolate from a raw cacao pod, and then proceeded to make chocolate chicken mole with it just to prove to the haters that she could

- is the acting president of the musutafu ninniclub, a japanese club for lovers of garlic. she also openly admits to sleeping with a ninnikyun plushie, aka the club mascot which is apparently a giant garlic clove (seriously, you can’t make this shit up guys)

- vocal advocate of Feeding Japan, a hunger relief organization that works to combat food insecurity, and is frequently seen volunteering at food banks and soup kitchens (1) (2) (3) (4)

- a lot of the ingredients she features in the “farm to table” series come from her parent’s farm! (pics) she grew up working at her parents’ stall at her hometown farmer’s market and promotes buying locally to support regional farms and businesses.

- this masterpiece of a tweet: “I love food and I love to eat. If someone wants to shame me for my body then they can go fuck themselves.”

- creates recipes that not only taste good but are also healthy, quick, easy and beginner friendly – yes, I’m looking at you, mr. bakugou “just fucking flip it and reduce for 3 days” katsuki – see the archive of her recipes here (x)

- has a tiktok dedicated entirely to trolling todoroki’s reactions with weird flavors of soba, these are my favorites (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7)

- she’s a self-taught chef who started as a dishwasher and worked up to being the sous chef at ryuko tatsuma’s restaurant dragoon before coming to the u.a. test kitchen and was regularly praised by food critics (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

- has single-handedly saved u.a. millions of yen from that one time she stopped bakugou from ‘accidentally’ exploding an air fryer

- speaks fluent baku-rage, not to mention their chemistry is off the charts hoO BOY the slow burn is fucking real y’all

alright there’s so much more stuff but I fucking hate formatting links, so watch farm to table and follow uraraka on social media (twitter / instagram / tiktok) because this queen deserves our love. thanks for coming to my ted talk.

hoooooot-hoot:

[link] to the twitter thread for my fellow kacchako shippers, i gotchu

54,230 notes #ua test kitchen #kacchako #stan uraraka #bakugou better worship our queen or im gonna throw hands

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“Ugh.” Uraraka glared down at the sad, deflated lumps sitting in the middle of her ramekins. “Where is Aoyama when you need him?”

“That looks pathetic,” a blunt voice said, and Uraraka sighed as Bakugou came into the camera frame, leaning over the counter to peer into one cup with a skeptical look. “What the hell are you making?”

“Well, it’s supposed to be a pistachio-strawberry souffle.” She huffed, rubbing at her neck in frustration. “I can’t figure out how to get the nuts to distribute evenly… and it’s just not rising? I don’t get it – I remade my pastry cream like, three times, I know it’s fine, and I buttered my molds but it just…”

“You try freezing the molds after you butter them?” A frown came over Uraraka’s face as she shook her head. Bakugou grabbed one of the little cups, prodding the contents with a finger, and made a face. “Keeps it from contaminating your mixture and fucking up the rise.”

“When I make them at home, they’re usually fine at room temp,” she said dejectedly. “I don’t know why I can’t get it right today.”

The camera zoomed in a little, focusing on Bakugou’s expression as he glanced towards Uraraka. He looked a little concerned, and after a beat of silence, he came around the counter to stand beside her.

“Oi, don’t get all mopey on me, Cheeks.” He nudged her shoulder lightly, settling a hand across the back of Uraraka’s neck. “You good?”

She sighed heavily, leaning a little into his hand. “Yeah, yeah, I just… I don’t know. My brain isn’t working right now.”

“Tch.” Bakugou looked over the mess of bowls spread across the counter, eyes settling on the deflated looking egg-whites on one side. “Look – I’ll help ya out, just this once. Don’t quit on me now, yeah?

She blinked, looking up at him with furrowed brows. “But I thought… don’t you have that thing, with –”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. This is more important,” he said, shrugging off his leather jacket and rolling up his sleeves. Uraraka just looked back at him in confusion.

“But…” She bit her lip hesitantly. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Bakugou smirked back at her as he tied on his apron. “I got you, Cheeks.”

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[Video: Todoroki, frozen in place with blank eyes and noodles falling out of his mouth as someone shakes his unresponsive body]

u_ochako: i… may have made chocolate flavored soba. PLEASE DON’T CRY TODOROKI #imsorry ♡ 137.4K 🗨️ 3251

trololoki: holy shit he actually looks like he’s about to cry View replies (157) ⯆

augusttine: can we all agree that what makes this 10x funnier is bakugou’s hyena cackling in the background View replies (209) ⯆

u_24: this is soba-sphemous View replies (54) ⯆

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Uraraka rubbed her eyes, blinking as she gaped.

“You…” She looked up at him, chin trembling. “Did you really…?”

“Tch.” Bakugou huffed, trying to hide a smile. “What, your eyes don’t work now, Cheeks?” he teased.

“I just - ” Uraraka pinched herself, yelping at the pain, before a huge, toothy smile broke out across her face. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you actually did it.”

“You did get on your knees and beg, so…” He shrugged, snickering as Uraraka approached the counter reverently, her face glowing in sheer joy. “Ten kinds of mochi, as fuckin’ promised.”

She turned to him pleadingly. “Can I…?”

“I already took the photos.” He nodded at the spread, a rainbow of different colors delicately arranged with a pot of tea, ready to be eaten. “Go for it, babygirl.”

Uraraka already had a daifuku mochi halfway to her mouth, lips open as she got ready to take a bite, when an unfamiliar voice cut into the video.

“Wait a second.” Both of them paused to look at the camera in confusion. “Did he just call you babygirl?”

There was a beat of silence, before Uraraka’s face exploded into a bright red blush. Next to her, Bakugou quietly muttered, “Fuck.”

─── ･｡ﾟ❁ﾟ｡･ ───

[Photo: an image featuring white sheets and pillows, a woman’s bare upper back, and messy brown hair with a woman’s face half-buried in a pillow]

Liked by dekiru, redkiri, and 541,803 others bakugoukatsuki: delicious u_ochako: UM bakugoukatsuki: @u_ochako did i lie though shouto: thank god fucking finally View all 6,248 comments

3 HOURS AGO

─── ･｡ﾟ❁ﾟ｡･ ───

SHIP KACCHAKO @retrograade – Jun 04, 2XXX RT @marsali: I. FUCKING. CALLED. IT.

THIS IS WHAT DREAMS ARE MADE OF @marsali – 21m @retrograade THE SHIP HAS SAILED I REPEAT THE SHIP HAS SAILED #kacchako [media attached]

42 🗨️ 3.8k ⭮ 8.7k ♡

#kacchako #kacchakoweek2020 #bakugou katsuki #uraraka ochako #bakuraka #by nebbia #bnha #fanfiction #ba test kitchen au #socmed au #kacchako smau

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wombatpumpkin · 3 years

Text

WIP Wednesday

Title: Paired

Fandoms: Dragon Age

Pairing: Solas x Lavellan

Tags: Modern Thedas AU, Dating App AU, Graduate School AU, Academic Rivals to Lovers

Now, I may look like a sad and lonely hobo, but I can assure you, ladies, that I am not. Beneath this poor excuse for a sense of fashion beats the heart of a wolf on the prowl and ready for love. When I’m not reading, that is.

You Paired with Solas on 9:40 Guardian 14 at 9:10AM

Today at 9:17AM

Me: Hello, Solas.

“That’s it?” Josie leaned over Aya’s shoulder, peering at the message she’d just fired off. Aya could feel Josie deflating. “That is all you’re going to say?”

“What? What’s wrong with that?” Aya asked, looking back at the message and trying to figure what on earth could be wrong with ‘hello’.

“You have to sound alluring! Make it spicy,” Josephine said with an indignant huff.

“Gotta tickle their balls a little bit, eh?” smirked Aya. Josephine tipped her forehead into her palms and groaned.

“Please... do not say it like that,” she pleaded like a woman who’d lived and seen too much.

“I don’t have to be alluring at all. Half the guys on here are just looking for a hook-up,” Aya said, waggling her eyebrows. “I’m pretty sure I could say I have a fungal growth and still find somebody to bang by evening.”

“She has a point, Josie,” Leliana said from across the cafe table, nodding as she finished her coffee. Josie apparently disagreed, folding her arms tightly over her chest as she glared at Leliana. “Let her talk about her fungal growths. It’s the profile picture that will do all the talking. You did pick her a good one, yes?”

“Of course!” Josie scoffed. “And do not encourage her! Really, Aya, you have to be more tantalizing. You’ll never get a date with just a ‘hello’.”

“You signed me up, remember? All these ‘Likes’ are for people you picked,” Aya shot back. “Maybe I don’t want them to reply. And I still don’t think dating apps are the best way to meet somebody.”

“It’s a ‘Swipe’, not a ‘Like’,” Josephine corrected with a sigh. ”And I simply found you a few men who I think may be to your taste. What about him?” Josie poked Aya’s phone screen and opened up the chat.

“You mean ‘Thom’? Isn’t that a lot of beard?”

“Here, give me!” Josie said reaching over the poor woman and plucking the phone away before she could protest. “This is how you send an alluring message.”

Leliana laughed and shook her head. “You are incorrigible, Josie. I’m getting a second coffee,” she said, getting up.

“Me too.” Aya got up as well, frowning after Josephine who was Cyrano de Bergerac-ing away. “She’s not going to stop until I have a date, is she?”

“Nope. It’s better just to leave her to it?” Leliana said quietly, tugging Aya along to place an order. I wrinkled my nose.

“I wish she wouldn’t. I don’t want these guys thinking I talk that well,” Aya said, scratching her nose and frowning over her shoulder at Josie. Leliana chuckled.

“You speak and write plenty well,” she said as they shuffled along. “When you put your mind to it at least. I’ve read your papers.”

“Well, that’s different. You have to write well in graduate school or they don’t let you graduate.”

“Fair point, I suppose. Still, those skills are transferable.”

“Nope. If it’s not school related, my brain powers down.” Aya shifted her stance, tilting the tote bag on her hip so Leliana caught a glimpse of it. It read All I Do is Fucking Read on the side. Leliana grinned. “Those men will be lucky to get a full sentence.”

“To each’s own, ” she said. “Do you think you’ll ever read or write for pleasure once you’ve graduated?”

“After a few years, maybe?” Aya said uncertainly. “My mistake for pursuing a degree in the social sciences. My poor dyslexic brain feels a lot like scrambled eggs.”

“What do you have planned tonight, then?” Leliana asked. They were a person away from ordering. “It is Valentines Day, after all. Any plans?”

“Well, after I get a little more work done on my thesis, I have my internship until five. Then... I guess it’s just an evening to myself.”

“A rare night, indeed. Savor it for me.”

“What do you have planned?” They started ordering.

“One coffee please, small and black,” Leliana said, reaching for her purse. Aya pulled out hers, trying to nudge Leliana out of the way as she ordered but fumbled on the card draw.

“Caramel latte for me, decaf.” Leliana swooped in and dipped her chip into the reader. Aya narrowed her eyes. She would get her next time.

Leliana continued as if nothing had happened. “I have a date, of course! Cousland got us a fancy reservation at a restaurant across town. It’s apparently very hard to get in. I have my shoes all picked out.”

Aya and Leliana moved down the counter and waited for our drinks to be ready. The air smelled like freshly ground coffee beans, oozing chocolate, and butter from their fresh pastries. I immediately regretted not ordering a croissant.

“And the rest of your outfit?” Aya said, raising her eyebrows. “Or is it a shoes only kind of place?” Leliana giggled.

“If only we could go somewhere as bold as that,” she replied, eyes dancing. “But I’ve chosen my red dress, the one with the silver beading in the waist. She loves that dress, as do I.”

The barista passed them the steaming drinks; Aya’s had a little foam heart in it that made her smile. The pair took their drinks back to the table, and Josie was still furiously texting. Aya chewed her lip in concern.

“How’s the damage?” Aya asked Josie as she sat down and disturbed the foam art piece as she took a sip. They used real caramel here, not some chemical crap from a pump. Aya’s lips felt sticky with sugar, and she hummed happily.

“I have a date set up for you tonight,” Josephine replied, not looking up. “I’m just setting the time and place. You’re done with your internship at five, correct?”

“Wait, seriously? With who? And yes, five.”

“Thom, of course. And I shall tell him to meet you at The Herald’s Square at seven o’clock.”

“Oh,” Aya said and smiled brightly. “Wow, I actually have a date.”

Leliana laughed and Josephine tossed the phone back at Aya from across the table. Aya caught it between her palms and flicked open the app, reading through the conversation. She groaned.

“He’s going to expect a frilly poet,” Aya complained. Josie batted away my comment but glowed a little at the compliment.

“He is...rather dashing,” she sighed a little wistfully. Aya raised an eyebrow and shut down the app.

“You sure you’d rather not go instead?”

“No, no, no! He is expecting you. You go and have a lovely time, truly.” Josephine beamed at Aya and exchanged conspiratorial looks with Leliana. Aya sighed heavily and took another sip of her caramel drink. And so a frilly poet she would be.

Authors Note: This is a short excerpt from a WIP I’ve been working on sporadically as I write some of my other fics. It’ll eventually go up on my A03, but I want to get a bit farther along before I start posting chapters. Any way, here is the sneak peak :)

#Dragon Age Fanfiction #WIP Wednesday #Dragon Age WIP #Solas x Lavellan

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aggressivehasana · 4 years

Text

Starry Night

Fandom: Aggretsuko/Aggressive Retsuko

Characters: Haida, Retsuko, Fenneko, Ookami, Tsunoda, Ton, Resasuke

Relationship: Haida/Ookami

Summary: AU where Retsuko didn’t break up with Resasuke and Haida is dealing with that.

Warnings: None

- - -

CHAPTER 12

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Words: 2,160

Betaed by: @pomp-adourable

A/N: Hey guys! I'm sorry for not updating in a long time, I've been jumping through fandoms like parkour lmfao, but I definitely intend to continue this fic. Just needed to be in the right mindset for it, and season 3 was definitely a boost. Anyway, THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH for your nice comments and for your interest in the story ;w;!! They keep me going <3 I hope y'all enjoy the new chapter and stay awesome, luv y'all! <3

“Ookami…”

Haida’s voice was soft, gentle, however he had to make a little pause to try to collect his thoughts, and generally, himself. He could feel his heart thumping in his chest, and he wondered if it’d be the same for the maned wolf. He knew about his feelings… not about the ones he might have for him, but about the ones he had for the idea of being in a relationship. So he wanted to say things as carefully as possible. He didn’t want to hurt him.

“Fenneko told me something funny the other day…”

He stopped and shook his head. No, ‘funny’ wasn’t the right word to use.

“Fenneko told me something interesting the other day…”

Yeah, that was better.

“She pointed out that…or, I mean, implied… that you might have feelings for me…”

His heart rate increased, but he knew he couldn’t stop there or it would make his coworker uncomfortable.

“I-I just wanted to ask if it’s true! You can tell me! I won’t be mad or anything, n-nor I’ll force you onto something because I know you don’t want to be in a relationship! I-I mean…”

He stopped, wondering where would he even go with that? What difference would it make if he knew if Ookami’s feelings were true or not? Ookami didn’t want to date anyone, and himself… What did he want? Was he so starved for love that he was willing to feed off the feelings of his friend?

In the end he sighed and shook his head with a gentle smile, setting his gaze on the egg frying in the pan before him.

“I’m sorry, Ookami…” he mumbled to the maned wolf in his imagination before letting go of that picture. There was no use in practicing that conversation anymore. Besides, it was nearly 8 am and he needed to finish getting ready for work.

He devoured his fried eggs and toasted bread quickly before leaving the dirty dishes in the sink and moving on to shrug on his blazer and put on his shoes. Weather was getting quite cold, but thankfully not enough for him to need to take another coat. Plus running to the subway station would always help to keep him warm.

***

There hadn’t been anything unusual going on when he got to the building, neither when he took the elevator, but as soon as he turned the last corner towards the Accounting Department, there were two things that caught his attention: One, that the area seemed a lot noisier, with several voices exchanging dialogues with Retsuko’s voice; and two, that Ookami was standing outside the door, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

“Ookami?” escaped from his lips, feeling his heart thump in his chest just as his coworker turned his emerald eyes to him. But the maned wolf didn’t say anything right away, he just stood from the wall and walked fast towards him.

“Come with me, Senpai,” he mumbled as he grabbed his hand, and being harshly tugged, Haida had to hop a couple of times to regain balance and walk at the speed Ookami was walking.

“Wh-What’s going on?” he asked nervously, but got no answer from the younger male, not until he shoved both of them in the Archive room and closed the door behind them.

Ookami sighed, resting gently against the door and looking down to the floor with his ears slightly folded backwards.

“I’m sorry, Senpai… Let’s just wait here until it’s nine o’clock and everyone’s gone back to their stations...”

Haida stared at Ookami for a bit, hoping the maned wolf would elaborate about the situation, but as silence stretched between them, curiosity got the best of him, especially for how affected his coworker looked.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, trying to not sound too worried.

It took a few seconds for Ookami to reply, but when he did, his voice was gentle.

“Apparently it’s Restuko-Senpai’s 9th month with her boyfriend. She brought him to the Accounting Department to introduce him to everyone…” he paused for a breath. “...As soon as I saw him, I knew I couldn’t let you walk in to see him there. So I said I was going to get some coffee and, well… decided to wait for you to arrive, to take you away...”

Another pause, a little longer this time. Ookami gave his coworker a moment to absorb and process the information given, and Haida lowered his eyes to the floor.

Was that so...?

Right, it was the 25th of October. He knew that, he changed the date in his kitchen calendar as he would every morning, but for some reason, that day it didn’t sink in. For the past 9 months, he had been dreading to see the numbers two and five appear together in that small, squared piece of paper. However, for the first time since then, he just… ignored it.

“I see…” was his mindless response, only to let the maned wolf know he was now aware of the situation.

“I’m sorry,” Ookami said with a hint of sadness in his voice, and Haida raised his eyes to him.

“You don’t gotta apologize, Ookami!” He tried to laugh it off, offering him a gentle smile. “It is what it is. If anything, I’m grateful that you…” he stopped for a bit. He knew what he was going to say, but the words in his head were making his heart speed again, a light blush tinting his cheeks. “I’m grateful that you keep looking out for me,” he concluded.

At least he wasn’t the only one blushing now; he could see some color spreading over the younger‘s cheeks, and he looked sheepish.

“Y-Yes, well…” this one started, giving himself a moment to collect himself, as he straightened his back and looked up to the ceiling while shrugging, trying to play it off as something insignificant. “You’re my friend. I want you to be ok.”

Haida laughed softly and slowly approached to lay against the door, next to him, leaving his briefcase on the floor while watching out for any sign of rejection from the younger male, like scooting away or giving him an odd look, but there was none; the maned wolf just remained in his place, keeping his eyes above and swinging his tail every now and then. He couldn’t help smiling. It was so weird to think that they had bonded over that mess of a situation, but if something good had come out of it, it was this… This… relationship he now had with Ookami. He wasn’t dismissing Fenneko, of course, Fenneko was irreplaceable, but Ookami had a way to make him feel special. Like he really enjoyed his company, like he really cared about him. And he couldn’t lie, it was nice. It was nice to hang out with someone that wouldn’t be tapping at their phone the whole time, or… give him vague answers, like trying to avoid talking to him… Every time they were together, it was like nothing else mattered to the maned wolf but him… and it was nice.

After a minute of silence, Ookami lowered his gaze to his superior, confirming what he thought he’d noticed out of the corner of his eye: that he was staring at him.

“What is it?” He asked calmly, though it was secretly making him a little nervous.

“Ookami, can I ask you something?” Haida replied mindlessly, tilting his head while looking into his coworker’s eyes.

“Um, sure?”

“Well, you see,” the hyena started, chuckling as he moved his gaze to the floor and changed the position of his feet. “Fenneko told me something interesting the other day…”

He paused for a moment, feeling his heart starting to race in his chest. Wait, was he really doing this?

“Fenneko-Senpai? What did she say?”

“W-Well....”

Wait! No, no, no, no, what was he doing? Why was he doing this? He had already decided to not have that conversation with Ookami, didn’t he remember? He wouldn’t know what to do with the information, afterwards. Sure, if it wasn’t true they could just laugh it off like some sort of joke, but if it was true? Then what? Wouldn’t that make things awkward for both of them? Wouldn’t that ruin their friendship?

“Senpai?” Ookami asked after a prolonged silence, leaning forward to try to look at his superior’s face and slowly perking his ears up.

“Um... nothing, Ookami. Nevermind.” Haida decided to discard it, turning a little bit to offer the maned wolf an awkward smile. “It would probably be better to leave things like this.”

“Leave things like what? What are you talking about?” the younger one asked and Haida’s eyes twitched.

Oh no, what had he done?

“N-Nothing! Just... you know... our friendship and all. We should just leave it like this,” he tried to explain, only managing to make the maned wolf squint in utter confusion with a glint of concern reflected in his eyes. “Ah, just, forget about it Ookami, it’s not important.”

“No, but wait... What about our friendship? Is there something wrong? What did Fenneko-Senpai tell you?”

“There’s nothing wrong, Ookami. Everything is ok! Okay?” Haida chuckled, placing a hand on his coworker’s shoulder to try to seem reassuring, but failing to hide the wavering of his voice.

Oh man, what had he done? He knew Ookami hated when someone would say “it’s nothing” when clearly something was off. He could already see the younger’s eyebrows pressing together. He needed to change the subject, immediately.

“Ah! Would you look at the time?” He asked cheerfully before pulling back the sleeves of his shirt and blazer to look at his watch, smiling widely at the position of the hands. “Two minutes before 9! We should hurry back to the Accounting Department now, or Ton will be furious if we’re late.”

“Senpai...” Ookami’s soft voice called him as he was leaning down to pick his briefcase, but he wasn’t going to let him finish.

“You’re a great friend, Ookami. Thank you so much for saving me again,” he interrupted him with a genuine smile, opening the door gently to give his coworker time to lean up. “I-I’ll compensate you for it. How about during lunch? I’ll get you a drink! A coffee, a soda, anything you want. Yes?”

He waited a couple of seconds for an answer, but the maned wolf didn’t say a word, he just stared at him intensely, his aura reflecting his disapproval of Haida evading the topic, and the hyena sighed.

“Don’t worry about it, Ookami… Okay? It’s really nothing,” he reassured him once more, this time making himself sound more convinced. “Just a silly rumor, but nothing worth being given importance. I appreciate you a whole lot, so even if it were true, it wouldn’t matter! We’d still be friends, as we are now. Everything is fine.”

Haida could see the younger’s shoulders relaxing ever so slightly, but he still looked very insecure and puzzled, only drifting his gaze from him to look at the floor for a second before immediately returning it to him.

“Just forget about it, please,” He insisted. “I know you hate when someone says ‘nothing is wrong’, but you have to believe me this time that really nothing is.”

“Then why won’t you tell me?” Ookami asked with a harsh voice.

“Because I’m afraid it’ll make things awkward between us. Not on my behalf, I just said that even if it were true I wouldn’t mind… but maybe for you? It’s not a risk I’m willing to take, Ookami. I really like hanging out with you, spending time with you, and I don’t want that to be stained. It was stupid of me to even mention it, and I’m sorry that I have to leave you perplexed, but I need you to trust me… It’s not worth talking about.”

Haida gave his words a moment to sink in, resulting in Ookami only lowering his eyes and folding his ears backwards as he slowly slid his hands in the pockets of his pants. He smiled a bit to himself. The younger didn’t seem to be willing to press on, which was good, but... he certainly wasn’t looking too happy either. He hated seeing him like that. He exhaled softly through the nose and approached him, placing a hand under his muzzle to pull his face up and be able to look him in the eyes.

“Hey. Everything is ok, I promise,” he repeated gently, wondering what else he could do or say for the maned wolf to believe him, but although a tint of red had spread over the younger’s cheeks, he didn’t hold his gaze for long. He looked away and took a hand to remove Haida’s from under his chin as he started surrounding him.

“If you say so, Senpai,” he responded weakly, letting go of his superior’s hand before making his way out the door.

#aggretsuko #Aggressive Retsuko #haida #ookami #haida x ookami #haikami #starry night fic #hasana fic

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the-fixation-zone · 4 years

Text

and here it is...chapter 2 of The Boys Crack Open a Cold One, the fic I’m writing with @queenspinoodle! art by my co-writer will be included in this one, as it was in the last. comments appreciated :)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

The next day, Zucchini is inscribing fresh runes on his hands when Sock enters his tent.

“Knock, knock!” Sock says cheerfully. Zucchini grunts back. “Not a morning person, huh? Well, luckily for you it’s just past noon. Busy?”

“Little bit,” Zucchini says, finishing up the rune over his left hand. The last part’s always the trickiest, and he needs his full concentration. Almost got it…

“I think we should get to know each other a little better.”

Shit! Sock’s statement surprised Zucchini enough that his brush slid sideways, ruining the entire picture. He sighs, getting up to wash the ink off his hands. He’ll have to try again later.

“Yeah? What makes you say that?”

“Well, we’ll be working together, right? So we probably shouldn’t be at each other’s throats in front of a bad guy. It’s not a good look.”

Zucchini hums, dipping his hands in the cool water of the basin in the corner of his room. “Sure, makes sense. What did you have in mind?”

What Sock had in mind was a trip into town. Sock loves the circus and the people in it, but he loves being out and about more. The sights and smells of the city always warm his heart. A glance over at Zucchini and he quickly realizes that this is not a universal feeling. His companion has a wary look in his eyes, as if he’s expecting to be robbed at any moment. Zucchini walks stiffly, careful not to touch anyone he passes. Sock tries his best not to roll his eyes. They walk in silence and, after a few minutes, the silence turns...awkward. Sock twiddles his thumbs, suddenly unsure what to do with his arms.

Zucchini, feeling the change, grows more uncomfortable. It’s not his fault he doesn’t get out much! It’s just easier to stay home reading or practicing his rune work. And, besides, it’s not like he has any friends he’d go into town with. Sock is the popular one. The longer they walk, the more both men feel as though going out may have been a mistake. However, still determined to salvage this outing, Sock finally speaks.

"Um, so do you like… food?" Not the most original conversation starter, but anything is better than the vacuum they’re traveling in.

Zucchini seems to agree. “Yeah! Uh, I mean yes, I like food. I’ll eat anything. Well, not anything with coconut. Or too much sugar. But, yeah, I, uh, eat.”

"Oh. Do you want to get food?"

“Sure, that sounds good. Do you have somewhere in mind?”

Sock, not expecting to get this far, immediately blanks on every place he’s ever eaten. Food? What is food?

“Uh, Sock? Earth to Sock, you good?”

Sock quickly looks around and notices a vendor selling kabobs. "How about kabobs?" He smiles and tries to seem like he knows what he's doing. He thinks he does pretty good.

“A kabob would be nice, yeah. Which one should I get? I don’t think I’ve had one before.”

He's never had a kabob? Does this guy do anything outside of practice? Sock gives him a weird look out of the side of his eye and says, "I think the beef ones are the best."

Zucchini doesn’t notice, already walking towards the vendor. “I’ll take your word for it.” To the vendor he says, “One beef kabob, please.” Then he turns back to Sock. “And you? What’ll you have?”

"I'll take a beef one, too." He takes his from the vendor and searches his pockets for enough change to pay for both. Surprised, Zucchini gives Sock a grateful smile. Sock shrugs, the vendor thanks them, and they head off again.

Zucchini takes a bite of his kabob and finds it’s pretty good. Not what he expected, but nice. He realizes Sock made the last attempt at conversation and decides the ball’s in his court. “So…” Zucchini starts, “how did you get into trapeze work?”

Sock pulls a piece of meat off his kabob with his teeth, chewing for a bit as he thinks of his answer. "I learned many of the basics at a young age while being taught to hunt. It wasn't that hard to put it all together for the trapeze." He remembers times when he was learning to hunt, climbing trees to get a vantage point with his father behind him, whispering guidance. It was a happy memory, once. "Sometimes the best way to catch an animal is to hide where it least expects you. Usually that’s up a tree. What about you?"

“Well, back when I was living with my dad, I used to like to get away. More like escape, if I’m being honest.” He gives a little laugh. It doesn’t sound happy. “I’d go up to the roof just to be alone and I realized if I crawled across clotheslines, I could get to the roof next door. It was terrifying at first but, like, kind of liberating? I could go anywhere on those clotheslines and no one could stop me. The juggling was different, though. My mom and I used to play catch with things in the kitchen, eggs, butter, just to have some fun while we were cooking together. I liked to show off for her, show her how many things I could catch at once. It sort of spiraled from there.” He smiles thinking about it. “Kind of silly, huh?”

"Nah, it's neat. When did you learn fire manipulation?"

“Oh. You could say it’s a... family tradition. My dad’s really good and he taught me.” Zucchini’s tone turns unquestionably sour.

Sock picks up on the mood change and decides to drop the topic. He looks around for something new to talk about when he notices they're passing by a street lined with clothing stores. He loves shopping for clothes and other material things, though he'd rarely admit it. It isn’t the most masculine thing to be into, and he doesn’t want to face any more ridicule than he has in the past. Besides, he’s already spent most of his money on those kabobs. He does slow down a bit to see if Zucchini is interested, though.

Zucchini notices Sock slowing down and turns to look down the street. “Oh, hey, you wanna go clothes shopping? I think I need some new outfits for my act. And…” he looks around subtly, “maybe we can think about costumes? You know, for crime fighting?”

"Oh, sure! Right, right, costumes." Sock heads to the first shop that doesn’t seem overly feminine.

Zucchini follows him in, looking around. “So, uh, weapons shop huh? Not exactly what I had in mind, but I guess we need something other than nets, don’t we?”

"Yeah, uh, we don't know what kind of people are out there, you know? Gotta keep ourselves safe."

“Right, right,” Zucchini replies, nodding.

Sock examines the various types of weapons they have. He used to have weapons of his own, but he had sold them a few years ago to afford food for himself and his sister. Now that they're in the circus, they no longer need to worry about their next meal. Not that that stopped him.

Trying to shake the memory, Sock wanders the store. They have many large weapons, like axes and swords and maces, but Sock isn't a big fan of heavy weaponry, nor is he trained to use them. They do have a decent selection of knives and daggers, though. He gravitates towards them, thinking of the knife he has already. It’s old and in bad shape. Really, it’s a wonder it had even cut through that rope the night before.

Zucchini wanders around as well, thinking about what weapon he might like to use. He’d learned sword fighting when he was a kid, but it’s been a while since he’s touched one. Looking around, he finds a pair of swords that look exactly like the ones his dad had in the house. He walks over, staring at them but not picking them up. As he views them, the shopkeeper comes by.

“Ah, I see we have a gentleman with discerning taste! These are my finest swords, handcrafted by the famous Yoshi Hoshi two years ago. Visitors come by often to admire them, but it seems few people have the skill to use them properly!”

“Huh. They do look nice.”

The shopkeeper gives him a conspiratorial look. “Would you like to try them?”

“Oh! I, uh, I couldn’t, I’m just--”

“Go on! No harm in holding them, young man, go right ahead!” The shopkeeper gives him a hearty slap on the back, causing Zucchini to stagger. He quickly rights his balance, hoping he wasn’t too obvious. He takes another moment to look at the swords before he brings them down from their mount.

As soon as they’re in his hands, he knows these are the ones. He holds them together then separates them, taking a step back before giving them each a swing. Marvelous. They fit in his hands like they were meant for him, and the weight of each is perfect. He can feel the shopkeeper’s excitement next to him and is regretful when he puts them back.

“I’m sorry, I can’t pay for them right now...but I’ll be back. I’ll definitely be back.” Zucchini walks over to where Sock is, his mind still on the swords. “Any luck? Or should we move on?”

Sock really wants to get at least one of the knives, but after buying the kabobs he only has a few copper pieces left. Too embarrassed to tell Zucchini that, he says, "they have a lot out of stock right now. Maybe I'll check back later."

“Alright. When you come back, I’ll join you. Let’s look for some costumes for now.” Zucchini walks out of the shop and looks around for a clothes vendor. Seeing something suitable, he walks in, Sock following right behind him.

The moment Sock walks in, he’s overwhelmed by the store’s selection of clothes from all over. Before he can get carried away, he reminds himself that he's only here to find an outfit to fight in. Hopefully a cheap one. He browses the racks, finding many dark clothing articles, perfect for sneaking around at night. He picks some at random, pulling out a black sleeveless shirt and a pair of fairly loose pants. They are low quality and flimsily made, but they’re extremely cheap and he can easily mend the seams back at his tent.

Zucchini isn’t sure what he wants yet, so he looks around waiting for something to jump out at him. He touches the fabric, thinking about what might feel good when running around after criminals (or, possibly, saving people at the 11th hour…). Finally, he finds a turtleneck in black and some lightweight cotton pants that look like they’d just about fit. “Hey, Sock? Should we get something to cover our faces, too?”

Sock thinks about that for a moment. "I think I already have something we can use."

“You do?” Zucchini is surprised, but not that surprised. He’s always pegged Sock as a theatrical person.

The shopkeeper, who is hovering nearby to assist, starts giving them weird looks. Sock notices and makes a face at Zucchini. "I'll show you when we get back." He approaches the shopkeeper with a smile, trying to look as innocent as possible.

“Oh, right. Got it.” Zucchini follows Sock to pay for his choices as well.

After paying, Sock leaves the store feeling good about having something to fight in other than civilian clothes or circus garb. He has a pair of boots at home he can wear with his new outfit, and a few masks stashed under his cot to hide their identities. It may not be the best costume, but he figures it’s alright for just starting out.

Zucchini is also pleased with what he bought but isn’t quite ready to go home. “So, uh. You wanna look around some more? We don’t have to buy anything but, well, the day’s still young, right?”

"Uh, yeah, sure." Sock starts off in the direction of the next store when something catches his eye. Plastered to the wall of one of the shops is a picture. He peels it off the wall to read it.

“Whatcha got there?” Zucchini asks, trying to look over Socks’ shoulder

Sock grins. "Wanted poster. Looks like we've found our first job."

#chapter 2 y'all #hereee weee gooo #zuko #sokka #crack fic #fanfic #zukka #eventually probably who knows #can zukka not be to life long friends fighting crime together? enquiring minds want to know #fix writes with friends #atla au #zukka au #art #fanart

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keelywolfe · 4 years

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FIC: Can’t Go On, Thinking Nothing’s Wrong

Summary: Rus’s sparkle is becoming a firecracker, the Fell Brothers still aren’t talking, and Red is a Grand High Poobah. Just another day in Rus’s life since he got knocked up.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Brotherly Relationships, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Pregnancy

Notes: Why does this happen to me? Guess it’s a series now, here we go.

Just quick, thank you SO much for all your comments everyone. I’m going to reply to them eventually, but I’m having some pain issues right now. I can reply to comments or I can write, and I went with write. So, I SUPER appreciate them and I love them, and I will reply when I can. ^_^

Warning: There is what could possibly be a discussion about miscarriage but nothing like that actually happens.

What Will Be, Will Be

Something To Say, But Nothing Comes

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

Not that long ago, Rus would’ve said he knew what tired felt like. Tired was always dogging after him, dragging him down into impromptu naps and through exhausted days while his piddling HP soaked up any rest it could, keeping him afloat.

But the past few weeks had taught him a new definition of the word and the only good thing about it was that this time, no one was griping at him to get his lazy butt out of bed.

Oh, yeah, and there was gonna be a baby eventually, that was nice, too.

Rus had a sneaking suspicion that the tired wasn’t gonna end with the skitten putting in an appearance. Probably learn a new definition of it, though.

Anyway, there was also the added perk that his brother no longer came in to wake him up in the morning for sentry duty. Alphys was a tough chickie, but she had a soft, gooey center for baby Monsters, skitten or otherwise. She immediately put him off work until the baby decided to show up before putting in a demand for some babysitting time. The way things were going, Rus was gonna have to come up with a duty log or something if he ever wanted a chance to hold his own kid.

Behind Rus, the mattress creaked as the bed shifted and, oh, right. That was another change, wasn’t it. For starters, his mattress had been upgraded to a bed frame scavenged from the dump. Not so much for the skitten, but because Edge refused to keep sleeping on the floor, like a no-account vagabond, was how he put it.

Rus sort of thought he should be offended by that, but, eh, the new bed came with perks. Namely, it usually came with an Edge included in the nighttime hours, big and cozy warm, and a helluva lot more cuddly than their previous visits led Rus to believe.

It was just a damn shame that morning came so early when Edge stayed over,

The bed creaked again. “I need to go.”

“mm hmm,” Rus mumbled. He wasn’t ready to commit to actually being awake, but he had enough going for him to be sleepily waiting for what came next. He was not disappointed.

First, a kiss on top of his skull. Very soft, a butterfly’s breath of a touch. Hesitant, not really sure of its welcome, but every morning that it wasn’t rejected upped the odds that tomorrow might bring another one.

Next came the one right over his sternum and this one was more confident, sure. Today Edge added a new layer, murmuring softly, “Be good, baby.”

Yeah, okay, Monsters didn’t exactly get hormones when they were knocked up, but Rus was just about to weep at how precious that was. Better to pretend he somehow didn’t notice. Edge got all flustered and blushy when Rus teased him and as cute as that was, Rus also didn’t want him to stop.

He didn’t want to say that upcoming parenthood was softening Edge up in seriously unexpected ways, but damn if it wasn’t. Hell, he’d pretty much accepted that Edge was giving all he could before with the occasional one-night stand, and that was okay, you know? Rus didn’t take it personal, was what it was. He’d gotten a few glimpses of Underhell...er...Fell, he saw where Edge and Red were coming from and if part of him desperately craved more, then that was his problem because Edge never promised him anything but orgasms.

Turned out that beneath that hard, boney shell Edge had a gooey center of his own and with a little spark to smooth the way, Edge was becoming the best sort of cuddle Monster.

Yeah, Rus could get used to this. He kinda hoped he’d have the chance and it wouldn’t dry up once the kid was here.

The sound of the bedroom door quietly closing was a sign that it was time to go back to sleep and when Rus woke up again, he could see the bright, artificial light coming around the curtains.

His phone buzzed again; that was what woke him up the first time, and Rus groaned loudly, not bothering to look at the text. He already knew who it was from and he also knew they were turning him into a crazy person because they were from a crazy person who was probably already inside the house.

In the end, he looked at it anyway because he couldn’t not look at it. It said exactly the same thing as yesterday. And the day before. And the day before that.

need to get down here and eat

Yeah, Captain Obvious, it was about the time his hunger started warring with the whole tired thing, he didn’t really need a wakeup call. But since he had one, Rus went ahead and gave in, kicking the blankets to the end of the bed and hauling himself upright.

He yanked on his bathrobe over his pajamas, leaving it hanging open as he wandered downstairs. The gargoyle currently slouched on his sofa was getting to be a common sight, too.

“morning,” Red didn’t look up from his phone. “your bro left breakfast for you on the table.”

Even Red’s grouchy mug wasn’t enough to dim his appetite and Rus’s shuffle got a bit of a lift as he headed over to the covered plate. Toast soaked in butter, richly browned sausages, glistening eggs. Even a bowl of oatmeal swimming with a generous amount of honey, with a tall glass of orange juice to wash it down. Twice and then some what he would’ve eaten before and Rus dug in as if it might make a break for it if he looked away.

He piled most of it on a toast slice in a messy sort of sandwich and took a happy bite. Around a mouthful of eggy toast, Rus mumbled, “you know, you don’t need to come over every day.”

Blue and Edge woulda had some words to say about his manners, some more profane than others. Red was his sort of guy and spoke ‘full mouth’ fluently. His pissiness, on the other hand, was more a character flaw than anything Rus did to earn wrath.

“yeah, and you don’t need to tell me what to do but here we are,” Red grumbled. “boss’s gotta patrol. your bro has training. i’m the only one who can hang around.”

“uh huh.” Telling him that Rus didn’t need anyone hanging around probably wasn’t gonna go over well, or it least it wasn’t gonna do much good. Red had assigned himself as the Grand Poobah of Overprotectiveness and Rus was gonna have to roll with it.

Probably wouldn’t be too much longer, anyway. The little spark was growing quickly. Already it had gone from a twinkling to a firecracker, much faster than expected. He’d always had an overabundance of magic and according to Undyne, the souling was happily gorging on it. That was why he was so damned sleepy and right now he’d nod off about anywhere. Which, okay, he did that before but these days Blue only shook his head indulgently and sometimes tucked a blanket around him.

For some reason he was feeling a little more energized today, so after he dumped his plate in the sink, then went back to rinse it off so he didn’t get ‘The Lecture, Now In Stereo’, Rus went upstairs and put on actual clothes instead of standing by his previous declaration that pajamas were good for all occasions.

That was enough of a program change to get Red to look up from his Candy Crush or whatever the hell he was engrossed in. “what are you doing?”

“going for a walk.” Rus told him as he stepped into his untied shoes. Then, more grudgingly, “you coming?”

The answer was obviously some version of yes, but the expected bitching and moaning didn't come. Red only hopped up and put on his shoes, double-knotting the laces before he went over and did the same to Rus’s sneakers, ignoring his exasperated sigh.

Red didn’t ask before practically leaping in front of Rus to make sure he was first out the door. He looked around like he was expecting a sneak attack from the garage or maybe an ambush from the Librarby, books lunging out with nefarious deeds already written on their pages.

When neither of those scenarios manifested, Red seemed to decide it was safe enough for a stroll. Rus pushed past him impatiently and headed for Waterfall.

“your bro is out in the woods,” Red puffed out, jogging to catch up with Rus’s long legs.

“yep. which is why i’m taking a walk in waterfall. got a problem with that?” Because if he did, Rus’s easygoing attitude was about to bypass the lighthouse and crash into the rocks.

Red only shrugged. “nah. some exercise is good for the kidlet.”

“Kidlet?” Rus made a face, “i was gonna stick with skitten.”

Red stopped in his tracks, horror flitting over his expression, “skitten?”

“yeah, you know. skeleton kitten. a skitten.”

Red scrubbed a hand over his face and shook his head as he started trudging after Rus again. “i tried to tell the boss something was wrong with you.”

“i bet you did.” Rus said agreeably. “i mean, there are, so many things. probably hard to pick one.” It was true. He had a list.

But if Red was gonna drag that out of the shadows and into the light of day, Rus would like to point out that whatever was wrong with him wasn’t as bad as what was currently wrong with the Fell brothers. Didn’t take a genius to notice that as soon as Edge came back to Underswap from patrol or training, Red took off, usually with a grunt for Rus or Blue, but always without a word to Edge. It was like as soon as Red passed the little souling torch over to his brother, Red was out.

Rus was starting to feel like the ball in the Underground’s most boring game of ping pong.

Of course, it was really their business, not Rus’s at all. Like he was up to giving any advice about relationships, considering he and Edge hadn’t even gotten around to slapping a label on theirs? Right. He should stay out of it and let them work it out.

Except, Rus didn’t give two hurty squirty shits about that because it was really starting to get on his nerves. Edge was supposed to show up here and spend his time looking all adorable about upcoming parenthood, possibly (hopefully) tossing a promising look at Rus from time to time. He was not supposed to be moping around soulbruised because his brother was a dick. Which, okay, Red was always a dick, but he could be less of one.

Around the path, the snowdrifts began to trail away, the air around them slowly warming as it shifted to a gentle trickle of constant rain. A change of scenery called for a change of conversation, and fuck it, Rus was up for a challenge. “so, you ever gonna stop being pissy with edge?”

“no.”

Well, at least Red wasn’t going to pretend everything was a-ho k-ho. “it’s because of the kid, isn’t it.”

Okay, yeah, he probably deserved that particular derisive snort.

The damp was starting to creep in through his shoes, making them squeak against his bony feet. “you aren’t pissy with me,” Rus pointed out. “why? takes two to jitterbug, yeah?”

“yeah, but he’s not supposed to be the stupid one.”

It took a second for that to click. “…hey!”

Rus reached out and gave Red a shove, cause he might as well enjoy it while Red wouldn’t push him back. “seriously, though, he’s really upset about it, i can tell, you should--”

“stay in your lane, honey bun.” The words were gently said, but the warning in it was clear.

Welp, he’d tried. Mark that notch on the board and maybe tomorrow would be a better day.

“kinda hard right now, feel like i’m swerving all over the place.” Up ahead was one of the larger pools of water and Rus stopped at the edge and sat on the damp ground. After a fierce struggle with Red’s knots, he pulled off his shoes and rolled up his pant legs, scooting up to dip his feet into the cool water.

Next to him, Red did the same thing, tucking his socks deeply into his sneakers before sitting next to Rus. Their height difference wasn’t quite as obvious sitting down since Rus lost the advantage of his gangly legs.

Rus gave Red’s foot a nudge under the water with his toes and asked slyly, “how are you gonna protect me from the cave ninjas in your bare feet?”

Because he was a shit, Red scowled deeply and started to stand. Rus grabbed his arm to keep him still.

“stay put, you pine cone. we both know you could probably murder someone while you were bareass. Not that you’re gonna need to, thanks.”

“be a hell of a last sight before ya dusted, though.”

“thanks, i was looking for a good excuse to bleach my mind.”

The cool water felt good, soothing. His joints were a little achy lately, especially in his feet. From the magic drain, according to Undyne. Thinking of...“i’m supposed to see undyne tomorrow for another checkup. she wants to measure the souling, see if she can give me a guess-tament on when it’ll descend.”

Red grunted, noncommittal. Rude. Rus was trying to give him a heads up on the agenda for tomorrow. Chances were Edge would want to tag along, but if he couldn’t, he didn’t want Red grumbling about having to take a trip to hotland. Though he probably wouldn’t anyway, Red was being weird about all of this, everything, and Rus didn’t much want to guess at why.

But the silence was drawing out and at last, Rus went ahead and asked the question that'd been bugging him most. “do you want to see it?”

“see what?”

“my tits,” Rus said exasperatedly. “the souling, what else?”

Because for all his protectiveness, Red was the only person who knew that hadn’t asked for a quick peek. Not that Rus minded; he was perfectly happy to show off his little spark and now that it was bigger, it was starting to look like an actual soul, not a little blob of light. Edge was practically trying to commune with it on a daily basis, cuddling up close so he could stare through Rus’s rib cage or pressing his skull against Rus’s sternum and listening to its quick-quick little throb, barely audible over the pulse of his own soul.

Red seemed to be giving the question a lot more consideration than Rus thought should be necessary for a quick glimpse at a souling. The legs of his shorts were too close to the water and they were getting soaked, made worse when he kicked his feet and sent a little wave to splash back at them.

At last, Red gave a little shrug and said, “nah.”

Hm. Rus didn’t press, lifting a foot out of the water and watched the trickles fall from his boney metatarsals. Not far away were a few echo flowers, their words unintelligible, but their glow lighting the walls with an almost eerie blue.

Rus was about to suggest they head back to see if lunch miraculously appeared while they were gone when Red asked, low, “can you feel it yet?”

“feel it?” Rus asked dubiously. He rubbed his fingertips over his sternum, right above where his soul hovered with his own little echo circling around it. “maybe? sometimes it does feel warmer in there--”

“no,” Red shook his head and his words were tight, grated out, “when it gets close to descending, you should kinda feel it. it’s a full soul right next to your own, ain’t it? but not like soul joining, there’s no real thoughts or anything. just emotions. like...like getting touched with happiness.”

“not yet,” Rus said softly. His voice reverberated faintly, and he wondered if the echo flowers would claim it. “must be too small still.”

Red nodded jerkily and fell silent.

There was a fuckton of questions springing up around that, but Rus didn’t ask any of them. They sat there a while longer together, and if the silence wasn't exactly comfortable, it wasn’t bad, either. Eventually, Rus flopped back to lay in the cool grass, still paddling softly with his feet. The water dripping down into his sockets was weird but not unpleasant. He didn’t remember falling asleep, didn’t know how he got back home to be lying on their sofa, and he definitely didn’t want to know how he ended up in fresh, dry clothes.

What he did know was that Edge was in the living room with him, still pulling off his boots, and Red was nowhere to be seen.

“you look tired,” Rus said. Which, was the truth, but he winced a little belatedly at having said it like that. He was always a little off his game when he woke up and lately, that seemed like always.

Edge replied, curtly. “Today was...difficult.”

He didn’t elaborate and Rus didn’t ask.

“well, hey, come lay down until dinner is ready.” The sounds coming from the kitchen were a pretty good sign that Blue was already in there, whipping up something delicious. And when it looked like Edge was going to argue, because of course he would think he needed to toss on a chef’s hat after an already long day, Rus said lightly. “undyne was just telling me that frequent proximity of the other soulsharer is good for the little firecracker.”

Sure, that was a blatant lie, but Rus thought it was for a good cause. Edge faltered, his eye lights straying to the kitchen, but in the end, it was too much of a good thing to resist. Edge settled down next to him, moving immediately and unashamedly into Rus’s personal space, already prepared to start trying to commune with their little spark. Talking to it, humming little songs, even summoning his own soul so that he could offer a taste of the emotions bubbling in him and yeah, that overflowing love wasn’t for Rus, but feeling it so close to his soul brought tears to his sockets, maybe someday...maybe…?

Almost, Rus thought he might have felt something, a tiny, sweet little echo of emotion, but he couldn’t be sure.

Soon, it’d be soon. He hoped. Rus was really looking forward to getting touched with a little happiness.

tbc