#Seriously my rage attack was one of the worst ever | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

zoeykallus · 1 year

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hihi! i really love your writing and every contribution you add to the clone lover fans! your account is one of the few that i check nearly everyday :)))

i have a request if you don't mind. how do you think the bad batch would react in a situation where you're being mind controlled to attack them? (similar to how ahsoka was in the mortis arc)

thank you if you do this!

Aloha! Oh wow, thank you! Love to read that! :))

Interesting idea... let me see...

The Bad Batch x (mind controlled) Fem!Reader HC's - Not Yourself

Warnings: Tension/Strong Language/Angst

Summary: You are the only one in the group who does not have a helmet that can filter pollen, gases and the like. On an alien planet, this becomes your undoing when you and your batcher run through the alien vegetation, and you accidentally stir up pollen that has a similar effect to rabies.

______________

Hunter

He sensed it coming somehow, still, as you lashed out at him, you got him good, almost knocking him off his feet.

"Damn... Cyare! Easy there, it's me, Hunter"

He can see in your reddened eyes that you don't see and much less care who he is right now.

Hunter fends off your attacks, punches, kicks, you even try to bite his hand. Finally, he gets a good grip on you, spins you around and clasps his arms and legs around you. However, he can't do much now.

He tries to get to his com, but you use every little opportunity and he has to strengthen his grip around you again and again.

"Cyare, listen to me! It's Hunter, I'm not a threat to you!"

He has no choice, he hastily grabs his blaster and stuns you before you can break free. Hunter sighs, finally reaches for his com and warns Tech. He puts binders on you and throws your unconscious body over his shoulder.

"Let's hope Tech knows what to do with you".

___

Of course, Tech knows what's going on. When you come to, you are yourself again, but with the worst headache you've ever had.

"Fuck...", you grunt, "My head"

"Cyare?"

You blink and look at Hunter's worried face.

"Hunter? What's going on?"

He sighs relieved.

"You were not yourself"

He explains what happened, and you feel so sorry and guilty.

"Did I hurt you?"

"No, not really", he says with a smile, "You worried me though"

"Sorry", you say meekly.

Hunter kisses your forehead and says, "It's okay. But maybe we should think about getting you a helmet"

Echo

He's so surprised, your kick wipes him right off his feet. Echo just manages to throw up his arms as you throw yourself at him.

"Mesh'la! What are you doing!!!"

He can only grab one of your arms, he only has one hand. He has no choice but to turn your arm behind your back and pin you to the ground.

"I'm sorry, Cyare, but I have no other choice. I don't know what's wrong with you, but please snap out of it!"

You squirm under him like a wild animal and Echo just doesn't know what to do. He doesn't want to hurt you, but at the moment he already does, by necessity.

"Please, Cyare"

You growl and roar full of unfounded rage, you don't know where it's coming from, you don't know anything, just that you want to lash out and attack everything. Who is sitting on top of you right now, holding you down, you don't even know.

But Echo is in luck, Wrecker is coming his way.

"Over here! Wrecker quick!"

Wrecker rushes over.

"What's going on?!"

"I don't know, but I don't know what to do with her. She's aggressive, attacked me."

Wrecker tries to look at you and you also immediately try to attack him.

"We need to sedate her if we don't want to hurt her" Wrecker says seriously "There's something really wrong with that, but we can't help her here, Tech needs to take a look"

Echo knows Wrecker is right, he doesn't like the thought, but he has no other choice.

Wrecker understands that Echo has reservations and takes over the task of stunning you.

____

Back in the Marauder, Tech knows what to do, thanks to the Maker. When you come to, you have a headache and are a little disoriented. But you see Echo's face and know you're safe.

"Echo, honey, what happened?"

He patiently explains to you what happened while holding your hand.

"I'm so sorry about that! Did I hurt you?"

Echo smiles at you.

"No, you scared me, I admit that, but you didn't wound me".

You sit up with his help and hug him tightly.

"I would never have forgiven myself for that either".

Echo kisses your temple," It's alright, my darling".

Wrecker

He holds you with one arm of his while you fidget and flail. For an outsider, this would probably be an incredibly amusing picture. Wrecker, however, doesn't find it funny at all.

"Stop that! Mesh'la, what are you doing? You're going to hurt yourself!"

He doesn't really know what to do, you're not really a danger to him, he can keep you at a distance relatively easily, but your behavior really worries him.

"Mesh'la, you're scaring me, please stop that, it's not funny".

He realizes relatively quickly that you're not playing a prank on him, there's something really wrong with you. He drags you back to the Marauder like a wriggling, growling bundle.

____

Tech raises his eyebrows.

"What the hell? Oh, I should have guessed that, bring her over here, hold her tight."

Wrecker looks puzzled.

"Please tell me you can help her, I want my Cyare back."

Tech nods and says, "Don't worry Wrecker, you'll get her back, I know what to do, she just needs a sedative and an antidote. I have both right here. Hold her tight"

Wrecker does as he is told and Tech gives you two injections. Gradually you stop fidgeting and fall asleep.

When you wake up you feel exhausted and your head is killing you, but you are yourself again.

Wrecker gently strokes your cheek and says, "Hey, Cyare. Are you yourself again?"

"What?" you ask, dumbfounded.

Wrecker and Tech tell you what happened.

"Shit," you grumble, "Thank goodness you're so much stronger than me."

Wrecker chuckles, "That's right, you were pretty wild".

"Sorry," you say meekly.

Wrecker kisses your temple and says, "Don't worry about it, the most important thing is that you're okay again".

Tech

At first he is indignant, because he is once again engrossed in his holopad when you knock it out of his hand.

"Hey! What… woah!"

He hastily backs away from your blows. At first he is completely overwhelmed and confused. But his mind turns on, he suspects what's going on, because he read about the trigger of your behavior at the same moment you knocked the holopad out of his hand.

"Cyare…?!"

He doesn't want to hurt you, so he has to react quickly. He draws his blaster just in time to stun you. Tech leaps forward and catches you before you can hit the ground.

"Sorry, I should have researched about the flora and fauna first," he says guiltily to your unconscious body.

The treatment is quite simple, and he has everything necessary with him. He gives you the antidote right on the spot and puts a breathing mask on you before calling for help to transport you safely back to the Marauder.

____

When you wake up, Tech is sitting next to you. He smiles at you as you look at him.

"Hey, Cyare. How are you feeling?"

"I think my head's about to explode," you say honestly, rubbing your temples.

"That's normal, in a few minutes this feeling will pass, don't worry".

You reach for his hand and ask, "What happened anyway? How did I get here?"

Tech explains to you what happened and he looks crestfallen and dejected.

"I'm sorry" he finishes his explanation "I should have done my research much earlier before we went out there"

"Oh sweetheart," you say softly "It's not your fault"

He avoids your gaze and sighs, "It kind of is".

You stroke his cheek and gently say, "No, it's not tech."

When he looks up again and into your face, you ask him, "Did I hurt you?"

He shakes his head.

You say with a grin, "My smart boy probably reacted quickly and correctly"

Tech smiles shyly and steals a kiss from you before smugly replying, "He did"

Crosshair

He doesn't see it coming. It happens fast, and he is very confused at first.

"What the hell, Kitten?! Don't... Aahrg!"

You bite his hand as he tries to hold you back. It's a reflex, he doesn't mean it, but he smacks you with his backhand right in the face.

"Ah shit... Kitten, I didn't mean t-Ugh"

He hit you pretty bad, your lip is bleeding, but you don't seem to feel any pain, you ram your shoulder into his stomach and him right off his feet, interrupting his apology.

Crosshair lands hard on his back, and you're right on top of him, clawing and punching at his chest. Without the armor of his, you'd probably would have made quite some damage by now.

"Kitten! Stop!"

With a growl, he rolls around, pins you down under him. Wriggling, twitching and squirming under him, you give off sounds he's never heard from you before.

"Kriffin hell! Would you stop that?!"

He finally realizes he can't get through to you and has to immobilize himself somehow to get you back to the Marauder.

He takes his blaster to stun you.

"Sorry, Kitten"

____

He is furious when he gets to the Marauder.

"TECH!"

Tech comes towards him with a furrowed brow.

"What's the matter? What happened?"

"You tell me! She freaked out all of a sudden and attacked me!"

Tech frowns and says, judging, "She's bleeding on her lip. Did you hit her?"

Crosshair sighs, "She bit me, it was a reflex, I'm sorry, I'll apologize as soon as she's back to her senses."

He looks worried and adds, "She will be back to her senses, right? You can help her?"

Tech nods.

"She'll be okay, I think I know what the Problem is"

____

As you wake up later, you feel like run over by a speeder, your head hurts, your bones hurt and your lips hurt. Groaning, you open your eyes.

"What the fuck happened?", you ask, blinking against the ceiling light.

Crosshair's face appears over yours.

"Hey Kitten. How are you feeling?"

"Like having the worst hangover ever"

Tech says in the background, "That's normal"

Crosshair explains what happened, and you pout, "You hit me, didn't you? My mouth hurts"

He sighs and looks away, a little ashamed.

"Well, you bit me, it was a reflex. I'm sorry, it'll heal, don't worry"

"How bad was the bite?"

Crosshair shrugs and says, "Didn't have a look yet"

As he tries to pull off the glove, you can see it hurts him pretty bad to do so. He seems surprised about it himself. Tech jumps up.

"You di'kut! Why didn't you tell me earlier?!"

The bite looks pretty bad, the teeth marks are deep, it's even bleeding a good bit.

"Oh shit... I'm so sorry!" you say and feel like crying any moment.

Crosshair shoots you a look. "It's fine, don't you dare and cry now"

You bite your tongue and lower your gaze.

Crosshair sits down next to you, wrapping one arm around you, while Tech takes care of the bite. The sniper kisses your cheek and says, "Relax, it's fine, love"

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@puppetswithteeth

@palliateclaws

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@starwarsnerd111

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daybreakrising · 4 months

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HEADCANONS - WRIO & HIS SCARS

FIRST, A WARNING: there's going to be mentions of violence, death, etc in this post, as you might expect. there won't be anything too graphic, but... just a heads up.

now, the majority of wrio's many scars are fairly generic: earned in combat, through tinkering with his gauntlets, little mishaps here and there. he's not afraid to throw himself bodily into a fight and will not hesitate to protect someone else by getting in the way of an attack, so he's littered with scars of varying shapes & sizes, and from various sources. these are the scars he will happily talk about, tell the stories behind.

the scars i want to talk about here are the big ones: the throat / chest scars, the scar beneath his eye, and the ones on his forearms. these scars are always given a variety of false stories: only those closest to him, those he trusts, will ever learn the real truth (and, of course, those who were present at his trial). so, let's start with the worst of them-

THROAT / CHEST SCARS

so, whilst canonically we're not told exactly how he got them, it's heavily implied from his story information that it was during the murder of his foster parents. it says this in his character story 4:

"Watching the crimson stain spread across the floorboards, a wildly inappropriate thought entered [his] mind. How many Melusine officers would it take to investigate all the traces of blood in this place? His thoughts then immediately leapt elsewhere. To think that his blood was so like that of those who had deceived him that they could run together, melding effortlessly. How revolting."

-which, followed by the revelation that he wakes up in a hospital bed, really leans into him being injured in the process (and quite seriously, given he expected to die).

in my version of events, the foster mother was the worst of the two in terms of the treatment of the "problem" kids & was the driving force behind the scheme in general. she exhibited many s.ociopathic tendencies & was the more manipulative of the pair - and when it came to it, was also the coldest and cruelest. this was the biggest betrayal for wrio, as she had always been the kindest and softest towards him when he was still caught in their web of deceit.

so, when this angry, vengeful boy started making his plans to stop them for good, a lot of that ire was directed at her. when he returns to enact his revenge, he goes for her first as a result. (a quick note here to say: he attacks at night when he knows the kids will be safely elsewhere, as he doesn't want them getting caught in any crossfire, so to speak). of course, planning to kill someone and actually doing it are two very different things and, whilst his conviction never waivered, he did not land a one-hit killing blow as he had hoped.

it's already not going as smoothly as he'd like - and it gets rockier still when his foster father understandably wakes up. there's a brief moment of confusion before he works out what's happening, and wrio has to change his plans because the father is bigger and stronger and likely to overpower him if he's not careful. (looking back as an adult, he realises he made a mistake in going for the mother first. he should have taken out the stronger opponent as priority, but he's the first to admit he wasn't thinking clearly at the time).

luckily, years of fighting on the streets (and the use of his first ever gauntlets) has paid off - without going into unnecessary details, he is able to bring down the father and successfully finish him off (it's messy, very messy, a true product of rage). during this act of brutality, however, the mother has slipped from the room. wrio's immediate fear was that she'd run to the sleeping kids, followed by: she's crying for the gardes. both were incorrect. she had, in fact, gone to fetch a weapon of her own.

her intentions may have been simply to defend herself (did she recognise wrio in the shadows of the room? or did she think some other ghost of their past had come back to exact revenge? we will never know), but when she sees wrio standing over the ruin of her husband, she sees red and lunges for him. as it happens, the first weapon she laid her hand on was a simple gardening tool: a hand cultivator, that one of the children had been using earlier to help the gardener with planting new flowers.

she goes in for the kill, no hesitation. she sinks it into his throat with every intention of tearing him to pieces. luckily, the momentum of her lunge works against her - she does manage to rake it down from throat to chest, but not with the force she'd need to immediately kill him. don't get me wrong, it's nasty, and he's extremely lucky to have survived it, and if she hadn't overbalanced them, he might not have.

and this leads us on to:

FACE / ARM SCARS

woman and boy hit the floor. there's a struggle. wrio manages to keep her from clawing his face to shreds but he can feel his strength quickly being sapped from him from the horrifying wounds she's left behind. he can feel himself starting to struggle to breathe. he's certain he's going to die here, so in a last, desperate attempt to end things, he gets his hands between them, fists against her chest, and he activates the mechanism in his gauntlets.

his current gauntlets may have undergone many changes since those first ones, but they still work in much the same way (only now with added cryo). at such point-blank range, and in a less-than-ideal state of refinement, the effect that powerful little mechanism had was... explosive. literally.

excuse the brief, slightly graphic description here but: he punched a hole through her chest.

effective, yes, but also not without consequences. the gauntlets shattered with the force of the impact, exploding outwards into many, many pieces. both his arms were cut up in the process, leaving him with several deep wounds in which were embedded small shards of metal (these had to be carefully removed by surgeons in the hospital).

and it was a piece of this flying shrapnel that sliced so dangerously close to his eye.

(this incident is what led to him developing a much more refined mechanism in later versions; and the horrific result it had on a target is the reason the damage is more... controlled).

this was the last of his strength used up, however. when the gardes finally arrive (alerted by concerned neighbours, as this was not a Quiet altercation) and discover the scene, they at first mistake him for another corpse, particularly as he is lying next to one mangled body and trapped beneath a second. it is a melusine who notices that he's still alive and immediately calls for aid - perhaps if she had not, he really would have perished with them.

(sometimes, wrio wonders if that might have been better. but only sometimes.)

#;just another soul still living on (headcanons; wriothesley)#( brutal. traumatising. he still can't face clawed weapons without reliving that moment )#( they probably didn't expect him to survive at all when he was taken to the hospital )#( anyway. just in case it's needed: )#;tw (blood mention)#;tw (violence mention)#;tw (death mention)#;long post //

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thenewleeland · 6 years

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WARNING: ENORMOUS RANT INCOMING!

This might sound like an overreaction, but it is merely the last straw that breaks the camel's back after six or so years. (The part about mysogony comes later, so feel free to scroll down.)

Okay, Saturday morning is the day all pre-match reports for the amateur soccer matches are published in the newspaper. I usually write them Thursday evening (after calling coaches or other officials) and sent them immediately afterwards so that the office already has them when they start working on Friday.

As a matter of fact, we had a cup match at 9pm earlier this week, which means it is far too late to be published in the next day’s paper. I wrote the report that night. Come the next morning I have three mails asking for the report as if it were the only thing the mattered for the next paper.

So, late day matches aren’t that rare, so this has happened before. If you sent these reports after finishing and editing them, it is usually “late” at night, 11pm of sth like that. Which means if you sent it at that time, they’re automatically - without reading - basically saying that there are lots of mistakes because it is sooooo late and therefore you shouldn’t do that.

But if you don’t do it, be prepared to get asked five times a day by five different persons where the hell your report is if it isn’t in their e-mail-box at 8.30 am....

So, I usually write three pre-match reports: One for the women’s team and two for the two men’s teams of our distribution area (one league below the women’s team).

This morning, I search the newspaper for my pre-match reports (to check if everything is in order and what has been cut/added or what headlines were added. Especially the last one is important, you wouldn’t believe how they can fuck that one up.).

The two men’s are there. The women’s is not.

What is there is an article with five previews for men’s matches two leagues below the women’s team. But that’s not all:

A) The reports are about teams that partly aren’t from our distribution area.

B) One reports is Coach A saying “We want to win” + the result from the first game in the first half of the season.

C) Nine months ago, it was decided that this league would be exclusively reported online - to save space! - and they would only print result and goalscorers. Back then, I was the only one to call that unwise. Which was ignored of course. So instead of cutting it down, they suddenly - and without informing anyone about it - expand it with a factually rather useless pre-match report series.

So considering not even they are so dumb to open a mail containing two documents and only seeing one (plus I have written them about what I will send them three (3) times.), the only logical conclusion is that the women’s report was axed for the men’s two leagues lower preview.

Which can only have one reason: They consider them to be more important. Is that true? Well, let’s have a look:

1) Women’s team is the team playing in the highest league of the entire distribution area.

2) Despite having a lot of injuries, they still are ranked 3rd and won the lost six games including two within 48 hours last weekend. Let me tell you how much a men’s team would complain about such a scheduling. And one of the men’s teams pre-match reports from 2017 consisted entirely of “We have so many injury players, we can’t play....”

3) Their opponent is the only one they haven’t beaten yet, ranked Second. It is also a home game for “our team”. Perhaps the one in charge didn’t know, because he didn’t bother to open the article or - you know - do some research.

4) “Women’s football is less attractive than men’s.” - None, I repeat none who could be responsible for this decision has seen the team in question play. Ever. That conclusion - like the entire decision - is only based on thinly veiled sexism and prejudice. And don’t yell at me that’s not true, that’s not proven. None of those who read it know the people behind the decision. I do.

You still might think this is a small issue. Let me tell you, this is only the final straw. I accepted not getting paid expenses for three years simply because they lied to me that that wasn’t possible and only gave in when they hired other people (and claimed that this was “a given”). The expenses I had - or should have gotten - were several THOUSAND euros.

You can pick dozens of other examples for the sexism. Throw-away comments while talking, in dubio cutting stuff from women’s match reports, not sending photographers, ignoring reports or publishing them days later.

This time however, it is enough. Not there won’t be any Caudine Forks for them anymore. I’m fed up and enough is enough. Tomorrow I’ll have a conversation (no one works today) and after that they can tell me to go to hell. But not after they tell them first.

(I’m not mentioning the fact that they try to swindle me out of money every month. Or that they’ll try not to pay me for writing the pre-match report in question. Or a dozen other things.)

#Lee rambles #Lee's work woes #Seriously my rage attack was one of the worst ever #It adds up and adds up #Every day #Every week #I could rant for ages #But that would be boring for everyone here #But I had to write this down #Because none of these idiots is available today #And I have to simmer until tomorrow #Thanks for ruining yet another weekend #Sexism #(I feel a bit unwell tagging it at that)#(So please tell me if I use it wrongly here)

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wizkiddx · 3 years

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your voice

angsty vibe, requested by @hollandlover19 than you for th rq and hop this doesn't disappoint too much :)))

summary: tom says something so stupid and has to deal with the consquences

warnings: a bit angsty, but ends in fluff! argumnts and raising voices, I guess could be associated with panic attacks tho not written with that intention

//////////////////////////////////

“Oh, Y/n er sorry.” Harrisons morning dulcet tones were what you were awoken to with a groan.

Everything was achy, and your head was pounding, making you grumble in discontent as you shifted uncomfortably on the technically too-small-to-sleep-on sofa.

This was not the morning you’d foreseen even 12 hours ago.

Lockdown had been difficult for everyone, even removing the tragic health crisis. Being locked in with your boyfriend and his brothers and friends was, for the most part, amazing. Lots of laughs, lots of beers and lots of quality time that you usually didn’t get. But it was also intense.

Without a doubt, since you first got together, this was the longest time you’d ever had with Tom. And it had been brilliant, your relationship getting so much closer and just learning the subtlest intricacies about the other. In fact, when lockdown had been announced, you’d never lived together (the most a week-long holiday).

Though it was also like a pressure cooker, Toms rented house. When one of you were in an understandable but stubborn lousy mood, it affected the whole house.

Yesterday night had been the perfect storm. The weather was unbelievably scorching; your work had announced that they had to let some staff go because of the financial implications of the pandemic; a ‘mole’ had released personal details of your relationship.

And it was like a pot on the stove; everything went from controllable to violently boiling over in a matter of minutes.

Honestly, you didn’t even know why you had started arguing - it was that pathetic. And yet you’d both said pretty horrible stuff - though it was Tom who had crossed the line. Frankly, the way he’d spoken to you was almost unforgivable.

You’d both known instantly too, all his anger at you had immediately evaporated when he’d realised what he had said. It took no time for him to become a grovelling apologetic mess, however even that- it was already too late.

It might sound feeble, but honestly, you’d run and locked yourself in the downstairs loo. You’d cried on the inside- whilst from the other side of the door, he had been begging and pleading with you.

After an hour though, Tom finally gave up - hence why you’d had a pretty uncomfortable night on the sofa.

This brings it back to Harrison, the early riser of the house, barrelling into the living room after his morning run. All bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, except also slightly terrified looking as he stood awkwardly in the doorway.

“I’m up now” You sighed, dragging yourself into a sitting position on the sofa whilst massaging your crooked neck.

“You er…. you fell asleep watching the TV?” Rolling your eyes, you sighed at the blonde, even if his poor acting was a little entertaining.

“Are we both pretending that you don’t know what went down last night?” Of course, Harrison knew. The walls were thin, you’d been screaming and he was Tom’s best friend. No doubt, Tom had immediately gone to him for help and advice last night.

Harrison held his hands up in response, caught in the act, and clicked his tongue. “What he said was bad. You shouldn’t be the one ending up with the sore back.” He wasn’t wrong.

“And yet here I am…” With a sigh you smiled which he returned with a sickeningly empathetic one “Anyway, don’t let my sad self get in the way, did you come in here for anything?”

Now, because Harrison was mentally a five year old, that’s how you ended up sat crossed-legged on the floor, clutching a wii remote and angrily shouting at yoshi on the mariokart screen. The whole household was competitive as hell and you were no exception - so some rouge elbows were flying when he viciously knocked you off the track.

Slowly Harry and Tuwaine filtered in and picked up remotes too, so the quiet morning was very quickly switched into a tense atmosphere of yelps and shouts. None more so than Tuwaine, who was possibly the worst looser you had ever met.

Really, you knew all the boys were only doing this as there way of showing you they were with you. That they also thought Tom was a massive raging dickhead. And you appreciated it more than they would ever know. Locked down in Toms house, very much not mutual ground, having three stupid boys behind you meant everything.

Just as you got on to the 18th and final race of the house’s mario grand prix, another voice cut across the tense silence as you waited for the coutdown to turn into ‘go’. Naturally, you flipped round to see Tom, looking as though he literally just rolled out of bed with puffy eyes and messy hair and no top. The sight made your heart flutter, to the point you had to consciously check yourself - refusing to smile softly at him like you usually would, instead narrowing your eyebrows and looking back at the TV.

Tom had so desperately hoped that when he came down this morning, everything would be better. That all it’d take would be a quiet conversation for the two of you to make up - for him to have you in his arms again. Primarily as he had heard your excited laugh echoing through the halls in reactions to Tuwaines yelps of protests - it made him hopeful. Waking up to a cold and empty bed was almost soul-crushing this morning. He did not want it to ever happen again.

Which is why his heart sank so much when all you gave him was a scolding look, before turning your attention to the TV. Admittedly, he was naive to think that what he’d done last night would be an easy fix - he knew it too. So with dropping shoulders, Tom silently took a seat on the sofa, watching from afar. You spent the rest of the race more absent, not joining in with the Harrison or Harrys trash-talking, acutely aware of Tom’s eyes burning the back of your head.

Then came Harry’s celebrations as the overall winner (only just) and when Harrison suggested another game Tom piped up again.

“Give me a turn Harry.”

The three boys kneeling next to you all stiffened, looking immediately to you for what seemed like consent - as if they were engaging with the enemy. (At least it was good to know everyone was on your side).

“I’m gonna go prepare for my meeting anyway.” You spoke quietly, already placing the remote on the floor and standing up.

“Y/n I don’t mind swappin-“

“No. Thanks, H but no.” You weren’t being selfless and giving Tom a turn. You were running away from seeing him.

And Harrison was still really angry at Tom. He’d been so selfish and insensitive and had hurt you- someone who Haz also cared a lot about too. Yes Tom was his bestmate, that he’d grown up with and known for years - but Haz really liked you too, in fact all the boys did. So they were almost as pissed with Tom as you were.

So while you threw the cushion you were sat on back on the floor, Harrison shot Tom the filthiest look and practically shooed him away.

“come on Y/n … just one more? Then you can do your boring work.” You were about to refuse when Haz tilted his head toward the door, only then noticing that Tom had slipped out the room. Now that he was gone ,yes, just one more wouldn’t hurt. The meeting prep wasn’t time pressured; it was an excuse for an escape.

Tuwaine whooped a little when you nodded, planting back down and ready for the first race. Yet apart from that, the room was still a little awkward, you being the first to break the silence.

“Actually Haz, would you mind giving me a lift today?”

“What to the shops?

“Um no not quite.” Tuwaine laughed in his usual innocent and infectious style before asking more.

“Seriously? You know we’re locked down? Boris won’t be happy if you going mad and leaving the house.”

“Just to Y/f/n’s. She lives on her own so it’s legal.”

“She lives just down the road right? Can’t you walk?” Harry was confused, making him look away from the screen, ultimately leading to his ‘diddykong’ falling off the track.

“I’ll have my bags. I um… I think I’m going to stay with her till lockdown eases more.”

As soon as you said that, Harry pressed pause on the race, all three boys looking at you mouth-opened.

“For real?”

“Yeh I um… think me and Tom need some time apart and being locked in isn’t helping.”

“I’m not saying to forgive and forget what he said… but he is really sorry.”

“The twats literally kicking himself.” Tuwaine added, making you smile a little for calling Tom that.

“I know just… I need some space and-“

“Are you breaking up?” Harry almost announced, cutting you off. He would miss you too.

“No! Nono I … well I don’t know. I just- we both need this.”

The boys all nodded, looking at the floor for a moment before Harrison’s blue eyes were back on you.

“Course I’ll drive, but… but I’ll miss you.”

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

You’d left merely an hour later, whilst Tom was holed up in the garden doing what looked like an almost unbearable work out. It meant he was also out your hair and you could throw all your stuff into two suitcases without him being any the wiser. It was probably pretty cowardly to leave without speaking to him, but you couldn’t. It would hurt too much and you didn’t want to break down in front of him. No doubt as soon as you had got to Y/f/n you did - into a blubbering mess of tears - but Tom hadn’t seen so it was okay.

Speaking of. Tom.

Tom was not in a good way at all. He’d been trying really hard to curb his’ short fuse’ lately- all of which had been well and truly blown in the past 4 hours. After finally being realised from meetings, which he’d not been able to concentrate on anyway, Tom had mentally prepared himself for a lot of grovelling. Once he’d vaguely hunted the house and not found you there, he naturally asked Harry and Tuwaine (both of whom were in the living room) if they’d seen you around.

It was a typical question, the answer he was expecting was that you’d just gone on your daily walk. And yet the response he got was… well a lot more confusing. Harry’s eyes widened whilst T did his awkward-uncomfortable chuckle, the two locked in an intense bout of eye contact. It was as though they were arguing with each, but through the powers of telekinesis... and it put Tom on edge. He was already stressed because you were so angry with him, so not getting a clear answer out of his brother and best mate - lets just say it tested his patience.

“You two need to tell me what the hell is going on right now.”

The two boys both looked panicked to speak to him, which was the opposite of the usual situation. They were some of the ONLY people in his life that would just say it how it is, no sugar coating. Like if he was away and being ‘famous’ was getting to his head; or if he wore the wrong pair of jeans. Even yesterday evenings events, they’d both called him out on what he’d said to you.

So why the silence?

Eventually, it was Harry who spoke up, but in doing so, practically just waved all responsibility on to another innocent party.

“Ask Haz.”

And then Tom knew. He knew this was bad. Immediately his heart was pumping at an alarmingly fast rate, taking the stairs two at a time and not bothering to knock before bursting the door open.

“Where’s Y/n?”

Harrison was reclined back on his haphazardly made bed, laptop balanced on his lap as he looked up with a sigh. He’d known this conversation was coming, but it didn’t make it any less easy. With a sigh, Haz closed the lid of his MacBook and sat up on the bed.

“Tom just-“

“Where. Is. She.”

“She’s gone to Y/f/n’s.”

“Oh… okay.” Suddenly Tom’s voice was muted, thinking he might’ve blown his top at nothing. This wasn’t weird - Y/f/n was in your support bubble and you went to hers often.

Tom was grossly underestimating the situation - and Harrison heard didn’t fancy stringing him along though.

“No like gone. She um… she took all her stuff. I think she’s going to stay there till-“

Tom was already out his room at that point, slamming the door as he did so. Making a beeline for his own room, Tom then frantically started to pull out the draws and rummage around the shelves, confirming what he already knew. Your clothes were gone, your toothbrush and toiletries were gone, you were gone.

It’s important to note Tom didn’t really cry all that much. Or if he did - it was more inconsequential, at a sad movie or one of the rescue dog stories from battersea. Actually, when it came down to it, he didn’t really cry.

Now though, it was impossible to ignore the burning of his eyes, as he sank down onto the bed that now felt twice the size. With ragged breath, he repeatedly fisted his eyes, not actually letting the tears fall - but it was impossible to not acknowledge their presence. Harrison stood wordlessly at the door frame, knowing it best not to interrupt - whilst at the same time knowing Tom shouldn’t be left alone. There was a delicate balance between the two, which he was walking on a knife-edge on right now.

After a short while, Tom looked up with red eyes and nodded at Harrison, effectively granting him entrance. With a sigh once again, Haz moved and sat next to Tom on the bed, clasping his hands together nervously.

“She said you both just needed a break from each other. Think lockdown and everything was just a bit too intense.” Haz had tried to explain, yet it seemed Tom had only managed to lock onto one of the first words.

“A break? Or breaking up?”

“I uhm… she didn’t explicitly say ending things. But I just… I don’t know to be honest mate.”

“You see the way she looked at me this morning? Like she hated me. Wouldn’t even acknowledge that I was there.”

“I don’t know what to say… she needs time and space I think.” Tom was silent for a beat, shaking his head as he cradled his forehead.

“I hate the fact you and my girlfriend are on better terms than I am.” Anddd his voice was back to scathing.

“I’m not on anyones side. But your both my friends and she… she needed some time.”

With that, Harrison made a quick exit out, getting Harry to take over the Tom supervision.

Ever since the atmosphere in the house had been tense. To say Tom was highly strung was an understatement, particularly towards Harrison. Deep down he was thankful Haz was looking out for Y/n: he was glad that Haz was checking she was okay. It’s not like Tom could, because Y/n was refusing to answer his calls, texts, whatsapps, even the slip of paper he’d slipped under Y/f/n’s door in the middle of an especially dark night.

So it was good to know Y/n was okay, but the fact she was going on socially distanced walks with the rest of his housemates was rubbing salt in the wound.

After a week and a half of complete radio silence on your end Tom had utterly worn down. He didn’t have the emotional capacity to be angry anymore, he was just tired. Tired of missing you with every breath, tired of the ten-tonne weight of guilt pressing on his chest, fucking exhausted with being angry at Haz and Harry and Tuwaine.

The best thing in his life and one of the very limited opportunities was quality time with the people he loved more than anything else. He had ruined it all.

And it was the small things. It was waking up to your soft, whispered voice in the morning; it was your infectious giggle when he surprised you with a hug from behind and gentle kisses to your neck; it was your quiet singing in the shower. Especially when he knew Haz, Harry and Tuwaine were all still seeing you and laughing with you. It hurt like hell.

Which is how he ended up hesitantly knocking on Harrison’s bedroom door at half eleven at night, with his tail between his legs. Having been so uber-healthy all lockdown, Haz was already in bed following his sleep cycle, though for Tom right now- he would be awake.

“I’m um… I’m sorry I’ve been a knob. There’s no excuse of anything I’ve just… I’ve been a knob.”

“You’re not wrong.” Harrison nodded in agreement with a sly smile, motioning for Tom to come into the room, after which he perched on the edge of the bed.

“I just… I need to speak to her but I… I don’t want to push her if she’s still hurting and I…”

“You absolutely promise not to blow your fuse? Because she couldn’t handle that.” Tom’s eyes widened, thinking this would be a much harder pitch than how it seemed to be going.

“Yesyesyes i- I promise. I just, I feel broken you know? Even if all I get is the time to say sorry, I-I really need to.”

Harrison released a deep breath, nodding slowly before throwing the covers off himself. Tom watched all his movements with a curious gaze, silently sitting as Haz pulled on a hoodie, then socks too.

“Well? Let’s go.”

//////////////////

Now, what Tom had not in the slightest bit been prepared for was this to happen tonight. Really, he hadn’t even thought Harrison would agree to let him talk to you… and even if he had, Tom not in hell thought it’d be at 11:30 that evening.

His heart was thundering in his chest, trying to hurriedly script how on earth he was going to apologise meaningfully to you - as him and Haz walked the short distance to your friends house. Honestly the whole situation was peculiar to Tom - finding it hard to believe that if you weren’t to answer his texts you wouldn’t be open to an in person conversation.

What Tom didn’t know, was how you’d been texting Haz at a similar point of desperation. You weren’t happy and even given everything Tom had said and acted - you missed your boy. No matter how infuriating he could be when trapped 24/7 - you’d quickly learnt this was the only way you wanted to spend these weird times.

So yes, Tom’s best friend knew you were hardly sleeping either, but needed that little push to interact with you boyfriend. No doubt, you’d still be awake to answer the door.

Once he’d arrived at the apartment block and walked up the stairs to the right floor, it still took some prodding and pushing from Harrison to get Tom to knock on the door. Plainly, because he was shitting himself. Haz hadn’t given him enough pre warning, enough time to work it all out in his head. So it took another encouraging nod from Harrison for him to knock on the slightly rough-round-the-edges flat door.

Y/f/n was single and young, starting her career in Kingston - so the flat she could afford was modest at best. When it was just occupied by a single person, that was manageable - two was a push. You’d only been living with her for a week and a few days but it was enough to know this flat was not ideal for two people in lockdown. You were already stepping on each others toes. It also wasn’t technically legal to move households but Y/f/n had always been in your support bubble as a single household otherwise. And so there was also a layer of guilt to it all.

Naturally then, sharing a bed with someone who wasn’t Tom meant you just were not sleeping. Even if you had both gone to bed early (just to kill some hours in the day) you were still wide awake at quarter to twelve - when a timid knock echoed through the minuscule apartment. Curiosity peaked at who the hell would be calling now; you silently slipped out of bed, managing to not disturb Y/f/n, and closed the bedroom door.

Now you weren’t an idiot. Even though this was southwest london, hardly the capital for crime, Y/f/n lived in a dodgy building with some questionable characters. And it was midnight. Hence why you approached the situation cautiously, tiptoeing to the door and waiting with your ear pressed against the wood.

“I told you she wouldn’t answer!”

“She will! Might just be in the loo or something.”

“Haz this is stupid-“

The air in your chest froze when you immediately recognised the smooth tone of his voice. It was him… and you’d missed that so much. Already there were tears in your eyes and you couldn’t open the door just yet. So no, instead you slid down the doorframe before calling quietly out into the night.

“Tom?”

The bickering on the otherside of the door was silenced, but you heard a quite tap on the door... and could envision exactly what was going on. Tom, pressing both palms and his ear to the door, as Harrison took a few steps back - sensing his work was done.

“Y/n? You there?” He sounded desperate, you could hear the emotion dripping off his voice. It was only when you tried to reply did you realise your own voice was having a harder time speaking.

“Yeh its-its me.” It felt as though this heavyweight that had been pressing down on your chest was slowly lifting, making your voice all cracky and low.

In response, there was a short and sharp exhale. It sounded relieved before some fidgeting as you imagined him crouching down beside the door - mirroring your image.

“Fuck, it… it feels so good to hear your voice.”

“Yours too… I’ve-i’ve missed you.”

Tom snorted at that, a gentle bang allowing you to realise he’d just whacked his head on the back of the wood.

“You have no idea how this week felt.” He was wrong though, you did.

Yes, maybe without the insurmountable guilt that Tom was rightfully feeling, but it didn’t mean that the time apart wasn’t easy.

“I do. This hasn’t been a nice holiday for me you know?”

He sighed, knowing that yet again he’d said the wrong thing. This time though, he didn’t rebut instantly (which surprised you), instead his response was more measured and calculated.

“I am so sorry. And of course, I know because I was the one that hurt you too. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive myself for that.” You nodded but given this conversation was happening through a door Tom didn’t see your gentle agreement - opting to fill the silence.

“I um… I’m not good at this whole um… speaking my feelings. But I’ve hated myself ever since I picked that fight with you. It was stupid and uh it-it was all my fault. I’m so so sorry for hurting you.”

“‘Why?” You tried to ask, except the words were stuck in your throat, making you have to clear it before asking again. “Why did you say it?”

“To get a rise out of you. It’s stupid and petty and fucking-fucking dumb. I said it not because I’ve ever thought it, I never ever have, but I knew it’d hurt you. I was preying on your insecurities because I was angry at the world and that was so unfair. “

“No shit.”

Silence reigned as you fiddled with your fingers - specifically with the promise ring he’d bought you a year ago.

“You-you think you could ever forgive me?”

“Thats the annoying part. I want to hate you because you literally stabbed me then twisted the knife but… but all I’ve done this week is miss you. Even when I saw Haz or Harry or Tuwaine. I just fucking missed you.”

“Can you open the door please love?”

Clumsily you scrubbed the tear tracks off your face, scrabbling to your feet so you could thrust open the doors. Because you might still be bloody pissed at him, but at the same time - you needed your Tom. Thrusting the door open, the first thing you registered was being pressed into Tom’s chest. His arms slinked around your waist and held him tight, which you reciprocated, squeezing tightly round his neck. Your senses were all being assaulted by one thing and one thing only. Tom.

He smelt like usual, except maybe the slightest bit stronger than usual - you figured he hadn’t showered in a day or two or bothered with cologne. The top of your forehead was pressed up against his chin, and as he readjusted his grip on you, you felt the scratchy feeling of his unshaven stubble. He kept whispering apologies against the top of your head, almost desperate and religiously.

Arching back, you brought both hands to cup his cheeks, looking into his glassy brown. eyes, which looked so lost and confused.

“I’m still angry.”

“Of course-“

“I’m still angry but I’m going to kiss you okay?”

Safe to say Tom didn’t require a verbal response, taking it upon himself to nudge his lips against yours, yet waiting for you to initiate the kiss. And that you did, everything else about this godforsaken week and a half. His index finger traced the angle of your jaw, whilst he held your lower back tight, pressing himself as close as physically possible to you. Needing you.

Eventually arching back, your thumb ran over his deep and sunken under-eyes, which added so much age to his face.

“You look tired Tommy.”

“Can’t sleep without you telling me goodnight.” That was another tradition you had had. Even when he was away, you’d even set an alarm for whatever bedtime was for the other across the world. Just so you could send a little message or voice not saying goodnight. Was it cringey? Yes. Did either of you care? No.

But since you’d been away all the evening wishes were absent from you. Which hurt Tom more than you may ever know.

“I know you’re still angry but will you please come home to me? I need you to be the last thing I hear at night and the first thing in the morning.”

would love to hear any feedback <333 (but think this is a bit of a shitter so im sorry!!!)

tagging: @lovehollandy12 @pandaxnienke @thegirlwiththeimpala @msmimimerton @hollandfanficlove @hollandlover19 @hunnybunimdun @crossyourpeter @thefernandasantana@hallecarey1

#tom holland x you #tom holland angst #tom holland x y/n #tomholland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #harry holland

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barbarianprncess · 3 years

Text

did you mean it?

read on ao3.

It’s a total of 3 significant events that led to this, her forehead knocked against his, breaths heavy and mingled, eyes wide and hearts bleeding.

The first event isn’t really an event at all. It’s a prologue, necessary context to truly understand the monumentalism of this moment. It’s the memory of her eyes, piercing and reproachful, being the first thing that he saw after losing his mother. It’s shared trauma and oreos while they’re young and naive. It’s truces and training and growing up too soon together. It’s stargazing and stupid jokes saving eachother in every possible way. It's the culmination of the years Percy spent growing, learning, and being with Annabeth, and the unknown and therefore repressed feelings that came with it. Feelings are like the sea in that way, they don’t take well to being restrained. Percy has found that you cannot box in oceans or sentiments, they always find a way to spill over and out, with no regard for the destruction left in its wake.

The second event is Dionysus deciding on a whim that the inhabitants of his camp are ‘uncultured pests’ and taking it upon himself to set up a field trip for campers to the Ancient Greek Cultural Center in New York. (Percy thinks it’s really just to distract kids that were still shaken up about the battle at camp and the losses it caused. But, Dionysus would never say so. He’s far too proud to admit to caring for the children he’s been assigned to look after.) Argus loaded all the kids he could fit into the strawberry vans, as Chiron listed all the reasons this was a terrible idea. As it turns out, his worries were in vain as miraculously, no monsters attacked, and no mortal asked too many questions. No, instead, the only hitch in his plan was the glaring inaccuracies of the Center sending Dionysus into a fit of rage. He ranted for so long, their 2 hour long field trip ended up lasting until the place closed.

Event the third is the ridiculously long line leading to the mens room at the rundown gas station they’ve stopped at, causing Percy to traipse into the woods, deep enough to know that no one other than the squirrels were watching, and pee there. Unbeknownst to him, Annabeth had decided to take a quick walk in the forest as well, (in the opposite direction of his peeing endeavor) with the purpose of clearing her head. Both returned to the parking lot after 10 minutes, with no truck in sight. The gas station lights are turned off on the inside and the door sign has switched decidedly to closed. They look at each other in disbelief.

“Percy?”

“Yeah?”

“Uh...did they…”

“They didn’t. They wouldn’t.”

“I think they would.”

“They would never-”

“I have pretty solid evidence to the contrary.” Annabeth deadpans, casually letting her hair loose and hopping on top of the miniature gas machine for motorcycles.

“But, how did-”

“No Argus.” Which means, no all-seeing eyes to double check the headcount. Percy begins to pace.

“Okay, but-”

“Two trucks.” Both of which are probably assuming Percy and Annabeth are on the other.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, gods.”

“Leave them out of this.”

“Those fuckers.”

“Which ones?” She asks. He looks up and she’s fighting a smile. He pointedly doesn’t notice the way her mouth curls up, or the way her hair falls around her shoulders and down her back, or how pretty she looks lit up by the neon red lights of the gas stations prices, which apparently doesn’t turn off when they close.

“Do you know something I don’t?”

“I know lots of things you don’t.”

“Ha-ha. I mean about how to get out of here.”

“Ohhhhh, let me think.” She wrinkles her nose in faux concentration, tilting her chin up towards the sky. Percy is too annoyed to think it’s adorable. “Nope, not a clue.”

“Your phone?”

“Left it on the truck.”

“Iris message?”

“Percy, it’s dark as shit.” The laughter she’s been holding in comes pouring out. Nevermind that he feels his chest sigh in relief at hearing it for the first time since their quest, this is serious.

“You’re laughing.”

“Just a little.”

“You’re telling me, you don’t have a brilliant plan to get us on a truck.”

“Yes.”

“So, we’re stuck here.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re laughing?”

“You’re just really funny when you’re stressed.” She giggles. He can’t remember the last time she giggled. He missed it. He hates her.

“Oh my gods.”

“Okay, okay, look, I’m sorry. We’re halfway to camp right?” He nods. “I’m sure they’ll figure out we’re missing before they get all the way back to camp, but let's say, worst case scenario, they don’t-”

“Not helping-”

“And they make it the rest of the way back to camp. It took us four hours to get to the center, which means camp is two hours away, so if they make it the two hours back to camp before they realize we’re missing, and they drive back up-”

“C’mon ‘Beth, you know I suck at math.”

“We’re stuck here for five hours at most.”

“Five hours?”

“And that's if no passing cars let us use their phones to hurry the process up.”

“Five hours.”

She’s laughing again. “Seriously, what is so funny?”

“It’s just-” Her cheeks are red and she’s very poorly attempting to suppress her smile. “You’ve been calm in so many life or death situations, and being stuck at a gas station is what finally breaks through.”

“It’s nighttime.” She stares at him for a moment and then she’s laughing again, full bodied real laughter, and he's laughing too.

And it’s as if this gas station became their own personal Ogygia, an oasis, a resting place for them to be stupid kids again. And they don’t talk about the battle, or Rachel, or the volcano, or any of the million things set on tearing them apart. They talked about his mom getting serious about his new boyfriend, about Tyson’s underwater adventures and Grover’s searching shenanigans.

They smack talk with no real heat about who the better fighter is (Oh please, Seaweed Brain, I've been training since before you could tie your own shoes.), and argue about which ancient hero had the greatest journey (Hercules, are you kidding? Did you even read the myth?). They break into the gas station for snacks (What the fuck, Annabeth, where’d you learn to pick a lock? No, I wouldn’t prefer you break the glass, you psycho. Oh my gods, can you really break the glass?), and dissolve into giggles as they try to fit five drachma into the cash register.

They end up back outside sitting on the gas machines facing one another from three feet away.

“Your mom called me the other day.”

Percy, who’d been lazily squinting up at the murky sky, searching for any sign of stars, whipped his head to look at her. “What?”

“She called me on the phone. We talked for a bit. She said she wanted to make sure I was alright.”

“That sounds like something she would do.” He sighs and hops down from the machine, turning away from her, hoping to hide his blush from the dim light. “She cornered me on one of my off weekends, asked what was going on with us.”

“Oh.” He hears the shifting of fabric and assumes she followed him in sliding off the gas machine.

“Yeah.” It’s silent for a long time before she responds.

“What did you say?” She asks, her voice smaller than it was moments ago. He hears her scratching at the flat metal top of the machine. “When she asked, what did you say?”

He runs his finger through his hair, and one gets caught in a particularly large snarl. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me.” She whispers and gods he’s terrified but he really doesn’t have a choice when her voice wavers like that. Her words shake and every ounce of his being tells him to do whatever it takes to soothe it.

“I said we were fighting. That there wasn’t one sole reason for it, just a bunch of little reasons. I told her that I scared you when I….went away for two weeks last summer. And that you didn’t like bringing Rachel on your quest. I told her that we….. disagree about how to best handle Luke. That I probably wanted to protect you more than I wanted to listen to you.” She laughs softly and he blames what he says next on her laugh. It is the catalyst for everything that follows.

“I told her that we’d be okay. Because no matter what happens I’m always gonna love you.”

He hears her breath catch. He doesn’t have to look back to know she’s turned to face him fully. “Did you mean it?” She calls. He doesn’t answer. The words haven’t caught in his throat, they’ve spontaneously combusted in his vocal chords and he doesn’t think he’ll ever speak again.

The sound of gravel crunching gets closer until suddenly she's beside him, and he didn’t tell his torso to twist toward her, he thinks she might just be his center of gravity.

“Did you mean it?”

She’s looking up at him, and her hair smells like lemons, and her cheeks are pink, and her eyelashes go on for miles, and her sunspots are better than stars. And it’s as if she pulls the words right out of him, he’s hypnotized by everything about her.

“Of course I meant it.”

She exhales and closes her eyes and while he mourns the loss of the sight, his body moves on it’s own accord again and he’s edging closer and closer and she opens her eyes and here they are.

Their noses brush, and this time he closes his eyes, and their noses brush just so, and…

Whoa.

He was wrong, it wasn't just those three significant events that to her forehead knocked against his, breaths heavy and mingled, eyes wide and hearts positively bleeding. It’s clear he’s been waiting his entire life for this moment at this shitty gas station.

Waiting for this. Waiting for her.

They kiss for a moment or an eternity, and they fit. His hands are on her hips and hers clutch at his shirt before sliding up to his throat, and it’s like his soul is whispering, oh there you are.

And then she’s pulling back, so she has just enough space to shake her head without disconnecting from his forehead.

She's breathless when she whispers, “This is a bad idea.”

His hands trail up and down her forearm of their own accord, and when he whispers back he’s breathless too. “Yeah, really bad idea.”

Her hands slide up from his chest to his shoulders, and then she’s kissing him again, with purpose, and he’s kissing back like his life depends on it because he thinks it might, thinks if he lets go of her he’d die on the spot.

It seems his theory might get tested when she pulls back again just far enough to whisper against his lips, “Is it always like that?”

He kisses her again, once, twice, because he can’t help it and whispers back, “I don’t know, you were my first kiss.”

He’d released any serious hold he had on her the moment she hesitated, but then she’s rocking back up to meet him halfway and his entire body thinks thank the gods. He actually sighs his relief into her mouth, as his hands desperately reach for her face, some fingers tangling in her hair, and their lips are magnets, opposites that don’t have a choice but to pull together. Despite how much he wants to keep doing this forever, he has to tell her.

“I don’t wanna lose you, again.” He means not ever, but he figures she understands the severity in his voice. She’s running her hand through his hair, and his slide up and down her back, and she knocks her nose against his as she answers, “I know, me either. I’m confused, this is confusing me.” And she tilts her chin just so, like she did a million years ago, and this time he kisses her.

They kiss for an infinity, he gets to taste her laughter when she giggles at the absurdness of it all, and it’s better than ambrosia. He kisses her until he doesn’t know anything else, until his entire universe is Annabeth Chase, with her cheeks and her curls and her lips. She is everything.

And then headlights penetrate their universe, voices bring an end to their infinity, and Chiron is speaking but it’s nothing, it’s all white noise because she’s no longer in his arms, and his center of gravity is being ripped away and he hears someone ask, “What’d you guys do?”

He’s still looking at her face when she answers, “You know, tried not to strangle each other mostly.”

But, she looks back before she turns all the way around and her gaze is charged and her lips quirk with the secret they share.

He is so screwed.

#so i wrote this in like two hours and its probably a mess but. here you go ig.#aoah ch 3 will be out soon but in the meantime #heres this lol #percabeth #percabeth fic #my fic #my writing #if you comment or rb i will die for you

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Text

Targets - ao3

- Chapter 4 -

Jiang Yanli wasn’t sure her parents had ever agreed on anything, ever, in her life, but they were in complete accord now that Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng were missing.

Admittedly, that was the only thing they agreed on – that they were missing, not dead, not dead – but it was a good start.

It had all started when that strange woman with the very ordinary face had arrived, she thought. It’d been late when she first arrived, after Jiang Yanli’s parents had stopped receiving audiences; they’d asked her to wait until morning and then got busy and didn’t receive her until nearly midday, even though the woman had been pacing around anxiously in the waiting hall. And then there was a whole lot of arguing before finally they sent out some disciples to go check –

The disciples returned, pale-faced, and reported on what they’d found: a pool with signs of swimming, a spilled but empty lunchbox, and the bodies of seven men, covered in cloaks to suggest an identity as rogue cultivators but wearing Wen sect insignia underneath.

No sign of Wei Wuxian or Jiang Cheng.

Everything had very quickly gone to shouting after that.

Jiang Yanli was worried, too, of course, but she was only thirteen and a poor cultivator besides, average in every respect – looks, skills, power – and no one ever listened to her; she knew she couldn’t do anything. She couldn’t give orders to go search with a solemn expression that she’d never before seen on her father’s face, eyes filled with panic and shoulders bowed with premature grief, the worst result already expected even as he denied the possibility of it; she couldn’t stalk around with so much rage that it felt like the onset of a thunderstorm like her mother, making sure that everyone was doing everything they could. She could only wait patiently by the gate to see if anyone came back.

Maybe it was her patience paying off, or maybe it was just luck, but she was the first one to see the cultivator arrive, late into the night. It wasn’t very ceremonious – he didn’t announce himself or anything, just swooped down with his saber until it was close to the ground, released the bundles he was holding in his arms, took a step forward and then collapsed onto his knees, face pale.

“Da-ge!” four voices shouted, distressed, and two of them were extremely familiar.

Jiang Yanli jumped to her feet and rushed forward, still disbelieving but overwhelmingly joyous. “A-Cheng! A-Xian!”

“Jiejie!” “Shijie!” they shouted, and she was so happy to see them, so happy, but they didn’t seem anywhere near as worried as she’d been; instead, they started talking at the same time. “You have to get someone, he’s used up too much spiritual energy –” “I can’t believe he carried us that far, and back, and after such a long trip, too –” “And a fight! Maybe he got injured?” “Impossible! But we should get a doctor just in case –” “Yes, and soup – shijie, can you make some –”

“Enough,” the cultivator rasped, lifting his hands to his face and rubbing it. He looked exhausted. “Thank you for your concern, all of you. I will see Sect Leader Jiang first.”

“It won’t make for much of a talk if you fall over!” one of the children she didn’t recognize said – the younger one, about her brothers’ ages, face full of baby fat. “Meng-gege, you’re older, tell him –”

The remaining child was about her age, if she had to guess, although he was short and looked gentle.

“Nie-gongzi is right,” he murmured – his accent sounded more Yunmeng than Qinghe, even if the oversized outer layer he was wearing looked more like Qinghe Nie than anything else. It probably belonged to the cultivator that had brought him, judging from the size. “You will not be able to make your case if you are unconscious.”

“I’m fine,” the cultivator insisted, and staggered up to his feet. “There’s no time, there’s still Lanling –”

There was no way this cultivator was flying all the way to Lanling.

“My parents will see you,” she interrupted. “They’ll be very happy to see A-Cheng and A-Xian are all right.”

They were, too, and Jiang Yanli assumed that only pride kept them from running over to grab them into an embrace – Jiang Cheng did run to their mother, and Wei Wuxian followed close behind to go beam at her father – but they were very puzzled to see the cultivator.

“Sect Leader Nie?” Jiang Yanli’s father said, and Jiang Yanli blinked: was that who her brothers’ savior was? “What are you doing here?”

“I received information,” he said. “Regarding the Wen sect –”

“We heard something similar,” Jiang Yanli’s mother said shortly, and glared at her husband.

“Unfortunately, we initially disregarded the warning of our spy,” he admitted. “And then we found the Wen sect cultivators’ bodies…your doing, I take it?”

Sect Leader Nie looked embarrassed for a moment, but then squared his shoulders. “Yes,” he said. “I was flying in to speak with you when I saw the attack taking place, and intervened.”

“They were coming at us with their swords!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed. “There was one right in front of my face, and then da-ge dropped down from the sky with his saber and – bam! Woosh! Urk!”

“Wei Wuxian!” Jiang Yanli’s mother snapped, though not as harshly as usual. It was almost long-suffering rather than cross. “Have some respect for Sect Leader Nie!”

“It’s fine,” Sect Leader Nie said. “I don’t mind. Are you prepared for invasion?”

“Invasion?” Jiang Yanli’s father said, frowning. “You think –”

“Wen Ruohan had given orders that the sect heirs of all the Great Sects be kidnapped or killed, not to mention your ward here and a few sundry others,” Sect Leader Nie said. “What is that if not a declaration of outright war? Surely he’d know that such a move, if successful, would lead to us all declaring war on him – he must have a next move planned out already.”

Jiang Yanli’s parents exchanged looks.

Sect Leader Nie pretended (badly) not to see it. “I’ve activated defenses in the Unclean Realm,” he said stiffly. “As you know, I’ve always thought…well. At any rate, we’ve made plenty of preparations, and they’re being put into action now. If it would be convenient, I was thinking of sheltering some of the targets there – I’ve already invited the Lan boys – and it would be no difficulty to have yours as well.”

He’d already assumed that they wouldn’t be prepared, Jiang Yanli thought, and saw her parents hear that unspoken message as well. He’d known they wouldn’t take the threat seriously and acted accordingly, and it was only due to his decisiveness that her brothers were still alive.

Her parents looked at each other again, gazes full of meaning.

“Very well,” Jiang Yanli’s father said after a long moment, voice heavy. “I will have to prevail upon your kindness, Sect Leader Nie.”

“Think nothing of it,” Sect Leader Nie said, and then frowned. “My concern is in regard to Lanling Jin...they have closer ties to Qishan Wen than either of us, and may discount the information, especially if it comes from me –”

“I’ll go,” Jiang Yanli’s mother said at once. “Madame Jin is my childhood friend. She will listen to me, provided it’s not already too late.”

Sect Leader Nie’s eyes flickered, but he didn’t say anything, just nodded. “He may as well come to the Unclean Realm as well,” he said. “Lanling City is large and Jinlin Tower spacious and luxurious, but there are many holes through which a snake might burrow.”

“I’ll bring him,” Jiang Yanli’s mother said. “Yanli can come with me.”

Jiang Yanli looked up, surprised. “Me?”

“You’re an heir, too,” her mother said. “You might not have been on the list, but you’re still at risk, especially if there’s going to be a war – greater risk, even. Anyway, Madame Jin will be more inclined to send her son to a safe place if she thought it was a way to build ties.”

The Jin sect heir was Jiang Yanli’s future fiancé. She supposed it was a good idea to meet him – and at least this way, she’d be going to the Unclean Realm with Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng, rather than staying behind.

“You should get something warm to wear,” Wei Wuxian advised her. “It’s cold when you fly!”

Jiang Yanli had developed her golden core just this year, right on schedule, so she doubted it, but she appreciated his consideration.

“Really cold,” the child in Nie sect colors said – the smaller one, since the older child, the Yunmeng one, was doing his best impression of a transparent plane of glass. “And we’ve been flying forever – we flew all night to get here from home, you know, and that was before da-ge fought seven Wen sect cultivators. And then we had to fly even more! Someone said something about soup. I want soup!”

“You should rest,” Jiang Yanli’s father said to Sect Leader Nie, abruptly sounding concerned. “Do you or any of yours require a doctor..?”

“Something to eat and some rest will be sufficient,” Sect Leader Nie said, which was probably a lie. “I’ll want to head out first thing in the morning, traveling by flight – I know it’s uncomfortable for the young ones, but I want to be back at my sect as soon as possible. You can send any additional luggage after us by horse.”

There was more talking then - mostly about how crazy Sect Leader Nie was to think he could make such a long flight with so many children, and, when he insisted, making him promise he’d take many breaks along the way - but luckily not much, and then there was saluting and Jiang Yanli was being swept away by her mother to go to Lanling City.

She knew it was wrong to be excited by the prospect of war, but she couldn’t help it. What an adventure!

#mdzs #jiang yanli #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #jiang fengmian #yu ziyuan #madame yu #my fic #my fics #targets

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sanzoumon · 3 years

Text

FREE RICKORTY+ PROMPTS!:

Seriously, if you wanna write any of these just go for it and then let me know. Spoilers for S5E10. Some are more gen but could also be shippy, smut encouraged but optional. All of these are definitely bottom!Morty btw. Others are straight up smut.

Non-rickorty prompts (really just Morty x Summer) are are the bottom.

PROMPTS:

Trapped on what remains of the Citadel, Rick confesses that he recently realized he’s in love with Morty and that he wants to be by Morty’s side forever - in whatever way Morty wants (as in be it romantic, familial, platonic, whatever, it’s Morty’s choice). How does Morty feel and what will he decide?

After the whole Planetina thing Morty gets much needed comfort from Beth. Tho he feels better after that, Morty feels the overwhelming need to be with Rick. As it happens, after that whole ordeal with Daphne, Rick feels an overwhelming need to be with Morty. Bedsharing and comfort ensue.

Morty notices that ever since the Citadel was destroyed, Rick’s been way more physically affectionate. Little touches, petting his hair, hugging, casually rubbing soothing circles on him when they relax, wanting to cuddle, affectionate kisses, handholding, even nuzzling him. Morty likes it. A LOT.

In a rare moment of relaxation, Rick and Morty snuggling up together, they share a kiss. Both are shocked but then immediately begin an intense make-out session.

Rick wants to make up for his prior mistreatment of Morty. Morty asks for something be never expected: A kiss. And Morty means a full on kiss - tongue included. Who is Rick to deny him?

Rick and Morty have a rather intense incest kink. Lots of dirty talk.

Morty finds out that Rick has feelings for him. Rick freaks out, feels like a piece of shit, and tries to run away. Morty stops him, clings to him, begs Rick to calm down and to not leave him. Rick is practically hysterical, Morty gets him to shut up and calm down the only way he can - a kiss.

Morty preys on Rick’s guilt for having mistreated Morty in the past by guilting him into having sex. Morty knows Rick doesn’t want it, but he’ll do anything Morty wants. Morty feels like shit doing this but he can’t get about of how good Rick feels inside him.

Morty royally screws up on an adventure, almost getting himself killed, and Rick opts for a good ol fashioned punishment - a bare bottom spanking. Aftercare happens because Rick was terrified for Morty and needs him to understand this is why he spanked him.

Rick suffers from Domdrop after a really emotionally intense session with Morty. Morty provides Rick with the aftercare he needs.

The family finds out about Rick and Morty’s relationship. Shocking everyone, it’s Beth who attacks Rick square in a blind rage. The whole time Morty is begging her to stop hurting Rick, who doesn’t even try to defend himself, and it’s Jerry and Summer who have to hold her back so she’ll actually listen to Morty.

Rick and Morty get married at the alien equivalent of Las Vegas. Summer was a witness and recorded the whole thing.

In another dimension it’s considered a rite of passage for a boy to have sex with the household patriarch when he turns 14. Morty never felt the need to do that but then Rick comes along and says that’s because Jerry wasn’t man enough to do it, so Rick takes it upon himself to do so.

Morty is attracted to Rick specifically because Rick is a dirty old man.

On the Citadel, some Morty’s are bred purely to be sex slaves for Rick’s. Bred to be more compliant, submissive, and who love Rick’s unconditionally no matter how badly they mistreat them.

Rick and Morty have an emotionally incestuous relationship. Basically: “when a parent or caregiver relies on a child for the support that an adult partner would usually provide. They may also treat the child like a romantic partner.”

Morty deliberately gets himself into trouble on adventures because Rick will, out of worry and adrenaline pumping through him, fuck Morty afterward like an animal. Like a twisted version of “glad to be alive sex”.

Rick and Morty have to hide in a tight fitting enclosed space while facing each other. Awkward boners and grinding / dry humping ensue.

Omegavese. Morty goes into heat and Rick knocks him up. It wouldn’t be so bad if Rick wasn’t seriously turned on by Morty being pregnant with his baby.

Omegaverse. Unclaimed Omega’s have it rough and are constant targets for harassment. One day Morty gets assaulted by some Alpha’s at school and before they’re able to violate and claim him, Rick shows up and makes them wish they were never born. Morty knew right then that Rick was his Alpha and begs for Rick to claim him.

Rookie Cop Rick x Cop Morty. Rick likes how chubby Morty is.

Toxic Rick x Toxic Morty. They’re both made up of the irrational attachments they have for each other. Without their healthier selves to reign them in they can’t keep their hands off each other. Basically, in between all the science, Toxic Rick fucks Toxic Morty and Toxic Morty can’t get enough of just how much Rick loves him.

Evil Rick x Evil Morty. Sometimes Morty lets Rick have control of himself again just so Rick will rape him like he used to before Morty took control.

Morty’s fantasy is for Rick to fuck him against his will while Morty cries and begs Rick to stop. Rick can’t deny Morty his perverted fantasy.

Rick goes on a rampage to save Morty and, by the time all is said and done, Rick is mildly wounded and is practically drenched in the blood of his enemy. And it’s the hottest thing Morty has ever seen in his life. Morty wants Rick to fuck him right then and there, raw and primal, using the blood as lube.

Morty’s just so small and cute. Rick loves it a little too much.

Rick loves to degrade and humiliate Morty in bed. Morty loves it too.

Breeding kink. They like to pretend Morty can actually get pregnant when they have sex.

OTHER:

Summer asks Rick to shrink her giant space incest baby down to normal baby size. Everyone tries to talk her out of it because she’s young and not ready to raise a baby, but she knows she can’t live without him and that she wants this.

Morty x Summer. It may have been under very weird circumstances but fact is they have a baby together. Summer says she doesn’t expect anything from Morty and is cool with it, but Morty wants to be involved. Raising a kid together can make you feel things you never expected to feel.

Morty x Summer. Morty liked attractive redheads and Summer is no exception.

Morty x Summer. After everything they’ve seen and done, sex with each other to relieve stress isn’t that noteworthy.

Morty x Summer. Summer is humiliated that she actually enjoys being fucked by her little brother. Worse yet, Morty knows it and taunts her with it while fucking her. Worst of all, him doing that makes it even better for her.

Morty x Summer. Set during the time Rick was in prison. They’re always fighting lately, sometimes to the point of physical aggression. One thing leads to another.

Morty & Summer. After the whole Morty Jr. thing, Morty isn’t sure he wants to be a dad again. But Summer is worn ragged with school, taking care of their recently-shrunk-to-normal-size space baby, and their family giving her crap for raising him instead of leaving him in space. And, well, he is responsible for the kid existing in the first place. Basically they raise their baby together.

Summer sees Morty getting picked on at school and she ends up beating up his bully half to death.

Morty x Summer. Something happens and they end up bound together face to face with Morty’s head buried in Summer’s boobs. They’re so big and soft that he gets aroused in spite of himself. Summer feels it, insults him like expected, but tells him just to hurry up and get rid of it by grinding against her thigh so they can start pretending this whole thing never happened sooner.

————

And that’s all I got for now, folks! I know it’s a long list and it’s all over the place but I have so many ideas in my head and the S5 finale just sent my imagination into overdrive.

So please, if you’re a writer, I hope these prompts inspire you. Let me know if you write anything, please!

#rick and morty #rick & morty #rickorty #c 137cest #rickmorty #prompts #summorty #morty x summer #does this have a name?

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when-they-write-stuff · 3 years

Text

IT WAS UNFAIR, Stiles thought, that Derek Hale was so freaking hot.

It wasn’t just because it was a summer day and he swore, it had to be over a hundred degrees. It wasn’t just because the man had shed his shirt long ago, working alongside the betas as they started the paneling of the Hale house’s unfinished porch. And it wasn’t just because Stiles was a raging bisexual and Derek Hale was exactly his kind of dream guy.

Except maybe it was all of those things. Maybe it was because Derek Hale was so goddamn gorgeous, so very shirtless, and so freaking muscled, Stiles couldn’t wrap his head around it all. And— and shit. It wasn’t fair, Stiles thought.

It wasn’t fair that Derek Hale was so freaking hot.

Sighing, he took another long drink of his lemonade, protected by the shade of the trees from across the lawn. He’d started out the afternoon helping the others work on the Hale house, he really had. But Stiles was just human, okay? He wasn’t nearly as muscled or effortlessly tireless as the others. And he’d never admit this any other time, but he was totally okay with being the token human for the day while the others worked their werewolfy asses off.

Sitting next to him, strawberry-blonde hair whisping slightly in the faint breeze, Lydia looked like she felt exactly the same.

“I never thought I’d look at a handful of shirtless, sweaty boys and feel nothing,” she said, tilting her head thoughtfully. Stiles choked on his sip of lemonade and Lydia smirked, glancing over at him before her gaze drifted back across the lawn toward Derek. “Just like I’m sure you never thought you’d look at such a hot, shirtless Hale and feel so much.”

“Oh my god, Lydia, really?”

Lydia just hummed and Stiles desperately tried not to blush, dropping his eyes to the dirt. Because his worst nightmare was that one day Derek would overhear what Lydia voiced in ‘private’, and he might just have to throw himself off a cliff if that ever happened.

And he was too young to die.

“Please, just never say that again,” Stiles said. “Like, ever.”

“You know it’s true, though.”

Stiles shot her a sharp look, which the girl completely ignored. But if Stiles had anything to say about it, Lydia was definitely wrong. And— and even if she wasn’t, it wasn’t like he was that obvious about certain things, okay? He definitely wasn’t obvious.

In fact, Stiles would like to state for the record that he was the total and complete opposite of anything Lydia ever said.

Always.

Because Stiles had never tripped over his own feet after Derek flashed red eyes in his direction. And he’d never run face-first into a wall when the man had simply growled his name. He’d never accidentally spilled coffee down the front of his shirt when Derek had brushed a little too close and he’d never almost had a heart attack when Derek had shoved him into a wall after Stiles had spilled a certain... beverage all over the man’s shoes.

Okay, okay, maybe he had done these things before. Once. On the same day. But that was just once.

Just once.

And Stiles was pretty sure nothing like that would ever happen again. In that order, at least.

Yet, here he was, doing his best to pretend like a shirtless and sweaty Derek Hale wasn’t doing unseemly things to him. Unseemingly things like fixating only on the unseemly that he’d like Derek to be doing to him. Because, well, the things he’d let Derek do to him...

“Stiles,” Lydia said, interrupting his daydream. “You’re drooling.”

Stiles snapped back to reality, shaking his head, and automatically flushed at her smug look. “I am not.”

“You are. And it’s a bit pathetic.”

“Okay, you know what? You’re a bit pathe—” Lydia gave him a dangerous look and Stiles promptly snapped his mouth shut. “Never mind.”

“Wise choice.”

“But I wasn’t drooling.”

Smirking, Lydia gazed back toward the Hale house. Then, a devious look crossed her face and she glanced over at him before nodding toward where the others had stopped to take a break on the half-finished steps. “You know, you could be over there giving Derek a reason to drool over you.”

Stiles blinked. “Uh, you mean get all sweaty and gross too? No thanks.”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “I mean stop hiding over here and go get yourself worked up over there. Show those idiot wolves what Stiles Stilinski has to offer.”

“Okay, first of all, that is never going to happen,” Stiles said. “And seriously, Lydia, you’re a menace. Do you know what lies under all of this?” He gestured down at himself and accidentally sloshed lemonade over his hand, cursing. Point one for what Stiles Stilinski had to offer. “Absolutely nothing, that’s the answer. Nothing but pale skin, weak everything, and the proof that I’ve spent most of my life living off of curly fries and milkshakes instead of that green crap I make my dad eat.”

Lydia raised an eyebrow, looking slightly amused. Sighing, Stiles turned his gaze back across the lawn.

“What I would give for some werewolf abs, though.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“Oh, that's absolutely how it works,” Stiles shot back. “Trust me, I know. I’m the pack expert, remember? The packspert, if you will. And you all rely on me to know these things.”

“Hm.”

Stiles took another sip of his lemonade, eyes still on Derek. Because he definitely was the pack expert, thank you very much. And werewolves like Derek Hale were definitely hot— it was part of the package deal.

Stiles, on the other hand, was lacking hotness on many levels.

And that’s why he was here, sitting far away from where Derek and any of the other werewolves who could catch wind of his... thoughts, daydreaming about a grumpy-growly alpha who would never see him as more than ‘skinny, defenseless, Stiles’. And he was totally okay with that, Stiles told himself. He was.

He’d always been better at lying to himself than others.

Three months before Stiles graduated Beacon Hills High, the Hale house was finally finished.

He thought it was a little strange how four years ago, the first time he’d laid eyes on the old house it had been nothing but a skeleton, the remnants looking like they could collapse in on themselves at any moment.

It was all different now.

The Hale house looked a little bit like the ‘before’ pictures Stiles had once caught Derek studying— although there were also a few different things added on. Like the archery targets, for example. Or the giant porch that curved around to the back of the house, complete with a fire pit and a grill.

Stiles couldn’t wrap his mind around ever seeing Derek Hale grill.

And yeah, the house looked a bit like these pictures Stiles had once caught Derek studying. The man had slammed them down and given Stiles a red-eyed alpha look before he could get a good look, but Stiles had ducked back into the room much later, finding a picture left behind that showed the Hale family standing in front of the house before it burned.

The younger version of Derek Hale had been smiling. Stiles didn’t think he’d ever seen the older one look like that before.

He’d left the room feeling a bit conflicted.

Two weeks after that, Stiles swung by the fully finished house after school, the first one to arrive before the rest of the pack. The Camaro, he noticed, was parked near the trees, but the Hale house itself seemed quiet, the newly built porch so much more welcoming than it had been all those years ago.

Stiles hesitated before climbing out of his jeep, debating waiting for one of the others to show up. Scott would probably go to Allison’s first and Lydia would probably be at Jackson’s. Stiles had no idea what the other three betas were doing, but thinking too much about what they got up to outside of Derek’s supervision never ended well.

Stiles had learned that the hard way years ago.

Faintly, looking at the silent house, he wondered if it would look like this after the summer of graduation. Something about that made Stiles’s stomach clench and he shook his head, trying to banish any thoughts of Derek Hale being stuck in an empty house all alone when they were all gone.

Forcing himself out of the car, Stiles pulled his backpack over his shoulders and started toward the house.

It was eerily silent when Stiles stepped foot through the front door. He hesitated and craned his neck to glance up the stairs, then down the hall. But the house seemed completely empty.

“Uh, Derek?”

There was almost nothing in the house yet, so Stiles’s voice echoed off the empty walls. He moved through the house quietly, checking each empty room that he passed. But the big bad alpha of Beacon Hills didn’t seem to be anywhere around.

Stepping into the living room, Stiles paused. Sitting across the room was a single chair, facing where Isaac had stated the ‘necessary’ pack TV had to go. Behind it was a single picture frame on the wall and as Stiles moved closer, he realized it was the same one he’d seen weeks ago.

The glowing eyes that reflected back at the camera were only a little creepy.

“Stiles?”

“Shit!”

Stiles spun around so fast, he nearly tripped over his own feet. Derek stood in the doorway of the room, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket and a confused, if not a little concerned, look on his face. “What are you doing here?”

“I… thought we were all meeting here after school?”

Derek raised an eyebrow but didn’t offer an answer. Fishing out his phone, Stiles scrolled through his unread messages and— shit. There were a number of cancellations from the others, one after the other.

Stiles swallowed hard, glancing back up. “Okay, I might be wrong.”

Derek just continued to eye him. Stuffing his phone back into his pocket, Stiles glanced around the near-empty room and desperately wracked his brain, trying to think of a reason that he should not be around either. Because what was he even supposed to do now?

This was not going according to plan.

“Well then,” he said, avoiding Derek’s unnerving stare. “I should be going.”

The silence continued to reign and when Stiles glanced back up, Derek just shrugged, turning away. And Stiles didn’t know where the hell the werewolf had come from or where he was going now, but he was not going to wait around and see.

Things did not need to be any more awkward.

Gripping the straps of his backpack tighter, Stiles made for the back door instead— the quickest escape route. Though, he still paused at the doorway and glanced over his shoulder. Derek was gone now, but Stiles noticed a single empty plate on the table next to the single empty chair— the few things in the near-empty room

The house suddenly seemed even quieter than before.

Stomach twisting, Stiles swallowed hard and shook his head, ducking out the back door into the cool evening air. And he didn’t look back until he was in his jeep again, staring at the looming house.

He thought he saw movement in the highest window; the quickest flash of shadow. But when he blinked and looked again, the window was empty and the house stood still. Still, dark, and almost a little more menacing than before.

Stiles jammed the key into the ignition and drove away faster than was probably necessary.

Stiles thought his crush on Derek Hale started sometime after his freshman year.

After Derek stopped scaring the ever-living crap out of him and Stiles came to terms with his possible bisexuality, he realized that yeah, Lydia Martin was hot. But Derek Hale was hot too. And it was kind of hard to look at either of them without his heart skipping a beat or two, which Stiles figured probably meant something.

But his possible attraction to Derek didn’t matter, he’d decided. His sixteen-year-old self was sure that he’d be marrying Lydia Martin one day and with that picture in mind, he could just appreciate Derek for what he was— a hot guy.

But then sometime around his junior year, Stiles realized he probably wasn’t going to marry Lydia Martin. And that… that was fine too.

One year later, he was completely fine with how everything had turned out.

By the time the Hale house was fully furnished, the pack spent nearly every afternoon there. It was nice; close by and large enough for them all. And sometimes, when Stiles came through the front door and met Derek’s gaze, he thought he could remember this one strange feeling he’d had the very first time he’d laid eyes on the man. So many years ago.

Or maybe, that one time in the pool. Or the kanima incident at the sheriff’s station nearly three years ago.

Or the first time Derek had come through Stiles’s window looking for research help.

“Stiles? Bro, Earth to Stiles.”

Stiles snapped out of his thoughts as an elbow jabbed into his side. Yelping, he glared sideways at the offender; and Scott just grinned innocently back, nodding toward the others.

“We’re all gonna go see a movie tonight. You in?”

“A movie?”

“Yeah, man. They’re doing replays of Star Wars all weekend.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “You do realize there’s a TV here, right? One that Isaac literally said was a ‘life or death’ necessity.”

Sitting on the floor across the room, Isaac flushed. “It is.”

“So…”

“Yeah, but Star Wars,” Scott said. Stiles snorted.

“Dude, I literally own all of them. What about a movie night here? Oh, we could even get pizza!”

Scott exchanged a dubious look with Allison, who shrugged. Stiles glanced at Erica, where she was wrapped around Boyd on the couch. The girl hesitated, then cast a dreamy look upward, smacking her lips together. “Movie popcorn easily outweighs boxed pizza, Batman. I vote for the movie theater.”

“I second that,” Jackson said, smirking over at Stiles. Stiles glared at him.

“You don’t get a vote, lizard boy.”

Jackon’s eyes flashed gold. “Say that again, Stilinsksi.”

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” Lydia said, giving Stiles a warning look. He just rolled her eyes and the red-haired girl considered for a moment, before shrugging. “I agree with Jackson.”

“Ugh,” Stiles groaned. “Don’t side with the snake.”

But the decision was already made up, apparently, as Scott jumped to his feet with a grin. “Sweet!” he said, pulling Allison up too. “Let’s get out of here then.”

Stiles didn’t even have a chance to protest before Erica was snatching the jeep’s keys off the coffee table and taking off toward the door, the holler of ‘shotgun!’ left in the air at her back. Groaning, he ran a hand through his hair and then slowly pushed himself up too.

It was only then that he noticed Derek hadn’t moved a muscle from his spot in the furthest corner of the room.

“Uh, hey, Sourwolf, you coming?”

Grey-green eyes lifted from his book and Derek gave him an unimpressed look. “No.”

“What? Why not?”

This time, Derek’s brows furrowed. And yeah, Stiles supposed the book and the whole grumpy-growly attitude Derek had going on was probably a pretty telling answer. But he still couldn’t squash a strange feeling of disappointment.

“Come on, dude, it’ll be fun! Movie popcorn! I’ll even buy.”

To his surprise, the furrow between Derek’s eyes actually seemed to soften a little. Well, maybe it did. Just a little bit. “No, Stiles. You go.”

That strange feeling of disappointment grew even more. Stiles frowned. “Seriously, dude?”

And just like that, the unimpressed furrow was back again. Along with a flicker of red. “Yes, Stiles. Go.”

And yep, that was the Alpha werewolf that used to scare the crap out of Stiles all those years ago. Sighing, he turned away and waved a hand over his shoulder in dismissal. “Fine, Sourbutt. But you’re missing out on a good time!”

Stiles didn’t get an answer. But he hadn’t really expected one.

The house was silent as he left.

The weekend before graduation, Lydia had a party.

Stiles had been looking forward to it for weeks. Mostly because, yeah, the last party Lydia had hosted ended up going horribly wrong, but weren’t things different now? They hadn’t faced a supernatural threat in months and Stiles was finally starting to remember what it felt like to be a normal teenager again.

So, he was pretty excited for Lydia’s party. And of course, if he had still been in love with her, this would have been the most nerve-wracking night of his life. But Stiles was all good now and he was ready to have fun, do a little dancing, and maybe get a bit drunk if he thought he could get away with it.

He didn’t get a little drunk.

Somehow, three hours after arrival, Stiles was pretty sure he was wasted.

Keeping up with the werewolves was hard, he quickly came to realize, even if they laced their drinks with wolfsbane for a little extra kick. One hour in, Scott, Allison, and Isaac were nowhere to be seen. Two hours in, Erica was doing her best to convince Boyd to go around scaring the shit out of other drunks with their flashing eyes. And three hours in, Stiles had no idea where Lydia had gone, but the entire room was spinning so fast, he was pretty sure he was either going to pass out or hurl. Whatever came first.

He didn’t actually do either.

Instead, somehow, Stiles ended up at the Hale house when the moon was high in the sky. It was dark enough that he could barely see the way to the front door, but that proved not to be a problem when he fell face-first out of his jeep the moment he managed to open the car door.

And shit, his dad was going to kill him if he ever found out about this.

Rolling onto his back, Stiles blinked up at the dark sky and groaned. He was pretty sure getting back up wasn’t an option, not unless he wanted to just go right back down. So maybe he’d just die here…

Except suddenly, a looming figure blocked his view and Stiles shrieked, kicking upward with all his strength. His foot connected with something solid and the figure grunted— and Stiles realized much too late what he’d done.

“Dammit, Stiles!”

“Oh my god,” Stiles said, voice barely a whisper. Half-bent over, Derek glared at him and Stiles mustered his best smile, desperately hoping that would keep him from getting his throat ripped out on the spot. “Er, hey there, Sourwolf. Fancy seeing you here.”

Red flickered through the man’s eyes. Stiles winced and after another long moment, Derek straightened up, giving him a look that held the promise of possible murder.

“What the hell are you doing, Stiles?”

Stiles blinked at the man. Then he shrugged, shifting a little in the dirt. “Resting.”

Derek’s expression tightened. The man leaned over again, sniffed deeply, and then his face twisted. “Are you drunk?”

“Only a little.”

“Dammit, Stiles!”

“Oh, please don’t ‘dammit Stiles’ me. I came here so I wouldn’t have to hear that exact statement from my dad tonight—”

But suddenly, Derek went rigid, his eyes flashing again. Stiles cut off, looking at the man in fear, and Derek gave him the most terrifying red-eyed look that Stiles had probably ever seen.

The man really looked like he could kill someone now. And Stiles was the only person around.

But then when Derek spoke, his words were so calm, so steady, Stiles thought that was even scarier.

“Stiles, did you drive here drunk?”

Oh, shit.

Stiles opened his mouth— then closed it again. Derek’s face was carefully blank now and Stiles was pretty sure if he could actually stand, sober him would be running right now. Because this was scarier than he’d ever seen Derek— even when the man had been that grumpy-growly “I’ll rip your throat out” asshole when they’d first met.

But before Stiles could even think of an answer, he was being scooped up. A sputtering noise of surprise left his mouth as Derek all but hauled him over his shoulder and then turned around, starting toward the Hale house.

Stiles’s head pounded. His stomach churned and as he watched the ground just a few feet away from his face, he wondered what would happen if he hurled all over Derek’s back.

As if the man could read his thoughts, Derek’s grip tightened. “Don’t you dare.”

Stiles did his best to keep everything down.

The dirt of the front driveway turned into the porch steps, and then the front door slammed as the ground Stiles was looking at became hardwood. Derek hauled him into the living room and dumped him on the couch, making Stiles groan loudly.

“Oh my god, dude, my head.”

Derek gave him a look of pure fury. Any more complaints dying on his tongue, Stiles shrank back.

“I mean, never mind. I’m completely fine.”

“No, Stiles, you’re not.” Derek’s eyes sparked red. “I can’t believe you would do something so stupid. So irresponsible. ”

“I… what?”

But Derek just shook his head and turned away, stalking from the room. Stiles stared into the darkness for a moment, his thoughts moving slowly, and he totally blamed it on the alcohol. Except, he really just didn’t know what to do with what was currently unfolding.

Derek had actually sounded upset. Concerned, even.

Stiles figured he was even drunker than he’d originally thought. In fact, maybe this was all just a spiked-punch induced hallucination. Just like last time Lydia threw a party.

Except, this definitely wasn’t a nightmare.

The sound of approaching footsteps pulled Stiles right back out of his thoughts and he blinked in surprise as Derek stepped closer with a trash can, a glass of water, and a white bottle of pills.

“Uh,” Stiles said, utterly dumbfounded. Derek scowled at him and he shrank back again.

“You throw up on my floor,” the man growled. “I’ll rip your throat out.”

Wordlessly, Stiles nodded. Derek shoved the glass forward.

“Drink.”

Stiles didn’t need to be told twice. He drained the water in a few seconds and Derek set the bottle of pills on the side table, giving Stiles another dark look as he took the empty glass back. “Don’t take any of those until morning.”

Again, Stiles nodded. Derek set the trashcan next to the sofa and turned away again, vanishing into the darkness once more.

This time, the silence lasted a little longer. But still, Derek came into the room after a few minutes, another glass of water in hand and a rolled-up blanket tucked under his arm. As Stiles stared, the man set the water next to the pills, then unrolled the blanket and draped it over him.

Stiles felt a little bit like a child.

He honestly didn’t know how to react.

Then, finally, finally, Derek stepped back and folded his arms over his chest, surveying the entire scene as if he was satisfied with his work. Stiles stayed stock-still, kind of worried that any sudden movements would mess everything up.

Whatever ‘everything’ was right now.

Catching him staring, Derek glared again. “I’m going back to bed. If you wake me up, I’ll kill you.”

“...Got it.”

The man gave the room one more once-over and then turned away, heading back for the hallway. But before he could vanish into the dark all over again, Stiles sat straight up, internally screeching as the blood rushed to his head.

“Derek?”

The broad-shouldered silhouette paused. Stiles swallowed.

“Thank you.”

He didn’t get a single response. Not even a nod.

Stiles blinked and Derek was gone.

Graduation came and went like it wasn’t even worth the hype.

Stiles had avoided going back to the Hale house since that night, but it was like it never happened. In fact, if he hadn’t woken up to an empty house with a cup of coffee next to the glass of water and pills, Stiles might have believed it hadn’t.

But it had, which meant he’d made a complete fool of himself. And as Stiles had dragged himself off the couch and toward the front door, he’d been pretty sure he could never face Derek again. It didn’t really help that he could barely remember anything that happened that night, because what if he’d said or done something totally dumb?

Dumber than usual, that is.

So he’d decided to avoid both Derek and the Hale house for as long as possible. He’d noticed his dad never said anything too, which meant Derek hadn’t dropped by to say a word of whatever the hell had happened.

Things were fine. It was all fine.

But then, when they were all hanging out after the graduation ceremony was over, Scott told him they were holding the graduation party at the Hale house.

“Oh,” Stiles said, his throat going dry. “Oh, that’s great. Great, great, great, dude. Absolutely great.”

Scott gave him a small look of concern. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah, great, I’m just fantastic,” Stiles said. Then, sighing, he shook his head. “Okay, no, I'm not. Remember that one time I told you Lydia Martin was the only person I’d ever have feelings for? Like, ever?”

Slowly, Scott nodded. Stiles swallowed hard and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.

“Yeah. I think I’m in love with Derek.”

In a moment, Scott’s eyes rounded twice their usual size. Stiles winced and almost instantly wished he could take back his words. Especially when Scott nearly shouted his next words.

“You’re in love with Derek?!”

“Oh my god, Scott,” Stiles swore, clapping both hands over Scott’s mouth. But the boy just ducked away and looked at Stiles like he’d grown two heads, mouth opening and closing a few times before he spoke again.

“What does that even mean?”

“Well, gee, Scott, I don’t know. What does being in love with someone even mean?”

“You... like him?”

“Seems we’re both coming to that gradual realization, yes.”

“Like, in a good way?”

Stiles stared at the boy. “Okay, please tell me you’re kidding right now.”

But Scott just continued to stare. Then, he glanced around and leaned closer, words hushed as if he was divulging his deepest secret. “Do you mean find him... attractive?”

Stiles pulled a face and gave the boy an incredulous look. “No, Scott, I don’t think werewolves who like to growl a lot and could probably crush me like a bug are attractive. And I definitely don’t think Derek is the hottest guy I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Scott blinked. Then frowned. “Okay, but you’re not lying.”

“No, Scott, I’m not!”

If Stiles could go back about five minutes ago, he would probably punch his past self for ever thinking he could tell Scott something like this in public. The boy looked like he was still lost and Stiles mentally prepared himself for more questions— before Allison came out of the crowd and linked her arm through Scott’s own, giving Stiles a warm smile.

“Hey, the others are heading to Derek’s. You guys ready?”

Scott looked from Stiles, to Allison, then back. Stiles gave him a sharp, warning look, but the boy just winced apologetically and let Allison lead him away— with knowledge Stiles never should have provided.

Closing his eyes, Stiles took a few deep breaths and then trudged after the two of them, silently hating himself for every decision he’d ever made.

If he wasn’t fearing for some kind of inevitable doom, Stiles might have been amazed by how the Hale house looked in the darkness that night.

Okay, that was a lie. He was still amazed.

Lights had been strung through the rafters of the porch and multi-colored garden lanterns were stuck in the ground all around the lawn. Stiles smelled barbeque before he even stepped out of the car and almost instantly zeroed in on his dad behind the grill, looking like he was the happiest person on the planet.

Except, Derek stood beside him, laser-focused on whatever the hell the Sheriff was grilling. And Stiles was pretty sure they were talking.

“Oh no,” he whispered.

But before Stiles could rush over and intercept what he could only imagine was not a very promising conversation, there was a hand on his sleeve and he was being pulled across the lawn instead. Stiles spun around, cursing, and nearly stumbled over his own feet to see Erica looking at him with a sharp grin. One that made his blood run cold.

Yeah, this might be worse.

“So, Stiles, ” the girl said, letting go of his sleeve only when they were at the very edge of the lawn, far away from the sound of music. “You’re in love with our alpha?”

Stiles froze. Then groaned. “I swear to god, I’m going to kill Scott.”

Erica barked out a laugh. “Oh, Batman, your puny little werewolf friend didn’t have to tell me a thing.”

Stiles blinked. Erica’s grin turned sharper.

“You spent the night here,” she said smugly. “Last weekend.”

“Last weeken... oh my god.”

Crossing her arms, Erica gave him a triumphant look. And Stiles didn’t even know where to begin before the girl was speaking again. “So you’re totally head over heels for Derek then? I mean, clearly you two bange—”

“Woah, no, stop!” Stiles said, waving his hands through the air. Erica narrowed her eyes but closed her mouth, and Stiles took a deep breath, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “I did not sleep with Derek.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I didn’t,” he hissed. “It was after Lydia’s party and I was drunk. I needed somewhere to crash.”

Erica raised an eyebrow. Stiles sighed.

“I almost passed out in the driveway and then nearly threw up all over him. Trust me, you menace, that’s about as far away from sleeping with Derek that I can possibly get.”

“Okay, then,” Erica said, studying him. “But you're definitely in love with him.”

Stiles opened his mouth to protest, then snapped it shut. And the beta’s face lit right back up as she laughed.

“Oh, I knew it! I am so going to win this bet.”

“Wait, what?”

“I mean, Boyd didn’t think it would happen until the end of summer,” Erica continued, completely ignoring him now. “And Isaac clearly has his head up his ass because he didn’t think it was going to happen at all—”

“Hold up,” Stiles said, cutting her off. “What are you talking about? What bet?”

Erica straightened. Then, she grinned.

“Nothing. No bet.”

“Oh, hell no,” Stiles said, shooting a look over his shoulder. Thankfully, no one seemed to have noticed them yet and he was going to get answers out of her before anyone could interrupt. Because if this was another one of the beta’s stupid pranks— “Erica, I swear to god, I’ll skin your little wolfy ass. Talk, now.”

“Well, see, it all started at the beginning of the summer…”

But suddenly, Erica’s eyes lit up and she trailed off, brushing around him. Protests already rising on his tongue, Stiles spun around after her. Only to freeze.

Derek stood a few feet away, hands behind his back as he glanced between them. Stiles was pretty sure his heart skipped at least two beats.

“Oh, alpha of mine,” Erica said, approaching Derek and giving him a sharp grin. “So good to see you. Also, I’m gonna go now.”

Derek raised an eyebrow and watched her move around him, head tilting slightly. Then he turned to look toward Stiles, who was starting to feel like he could be sick. “Er, yeah. Hey, Derek.”

“Was I interrupting?”

“Absolutely not.”

Stiles probably spoke too quickly because Derek’s eyebrows climbed even higher. Flushing, Stiles dropped his gaze and silently cursed himself.

“I mean… no. You weren't.”

When he finally glanced up again, Derek still didn’t look very convinced. Biting down on his tongue, Stiles searched for any other kind of conversation diversion.

“So. Grilling.”

Derek’s expression turned even more incredulous, though his lips twitched a little. Stiles winced, turned his gaze downward again.

“I saw you and my dad earlier.”

“Oh. Yeah." Derek said thoughtfully. As if that wasn't disturbing news. "He offered me a position at the station two weeks ago. Deputy. I thought it was time I gave him an answer.”

Stiles’s head snapped back up so fast, he swore he heard something crack. “What?”

Derek slipped his hands into his pockets. “I’m taking it.”

“You’re— I— what?”

Derek didn't look too bothered by the fact that Stiles was nearly having a heart attack. But Stiles’s head spun and he felt a little bit confused, a little bit shocked, and kind of betrayed all at the same time. Because two weeks ago? That was plenty of time for his dad to at least mention something about possibly hiring Derek Hale.

“Now the house is built, I’m going to need to do something,” Derek said, studying him. “Over the summer and afterward.”

“Why?”

The moment the word left Stiles’s mouth, he felt like an idiot. Because, duh, they were all going to be spread out across the state pretty soon. Except for Lydia, of course, who was going multiple states away. But all this time, Stiles had imagined Derek being lonely and isolated in the Hale house when they were gone…

And just like that, he felt like an even bigger idiot.

Oh.

Looking at Derek with new eyes, Stiles suddenly remembered the past few months a little bit differently.

Derek, working alongside his betas on the new house— all amused looks and soft smiles. Then, that one picture on the wall, right next to the lone chair that soon sat right alongside the rest of the furniture; with enough space for the rest of the pack to be right next to him. And even beyond that, the contented silence when they all went off to do their own thing. Like he knew they were going to be back, no matter what.

A lump formed in Stiles's throat and he stared at the man, feeling like an idiot. “You’re not lonely here."

Derek tilted his head. “No.”

“It’s home.”

Once more, Derek’s lips twitched. Stiles swallowed hard.

“Last weekend…”

“You’re lucky I hadn’t taken the job offer yet.”

Oh.

So, Stiles hadn’t made a fool out of himself that night. But maybe he’d been making a fool out of himself long before then, and ever since. He’d found it so easy to look at Derek Hale and think about all those years ago, like the man was still a part of the past. But maybe Stiles was still the one living back then, not Derek.

“Stiles?”

Glancing across the lawn, Stiles watched the others for a moment. Music floated through the air and he didn’t see a single person other than him and Derek standing apart from the crowd. And they were all different now, weren’t they? It’d been years.

Stiles took a small breath and glanced back toward the man. They were all different now.

“Do you want to dance?”

Derek’s eyes flickered and after a moment, the man nodded. Hands trembling nervously, Stiles followed him away from the edge of the lawn, back toward the others. Gaze drifting a little ways further, Stiles's stomach flipped to see Erica watching with a wide smirk and a wad of cash in hand.

And then, like the entire world thought this was amusing too, the music slowed.

Stiles froze, looking back at Derek. But the man just raised an eyebrow and Stiles thought that maybe he could die on the spot. Because there was nothing even hot about that look. No, Derek Hale was drop-dead gorgeous and Stiles couldn’t believe he was standing literally inches away from the man that he had somehow fallen in love with. And he hadn’t even done anything stupid yet.

Then Derek stepped closer, Stiles’s heart stopped, and he promptly tripped over his own feet, spilling right into the man.

Someone barked a mocking laugh to the side; it sounded suspiciously like Jackson. Wincing, Stiles pulled himself back up and slowly met Derek’s gaze again.

“Sorry.”

“Let me.”

Fingertips brushed against his own and Stiles’s heart hammered against his chest as Derek took his hands. And shit, how many months ago had he been drooling over Derek like a teenager? Grey-green eyes danced in the glowing lights and Stiles remembered Lydia’s words faintly, flushing a little despite himself.

Give Derek something to drool over.

“You know, it's kind of unfair,” Stiles mumbled. “That you’re so freaking hot.”

“Oh, really?”

Stiles chewed on his lower lip, trying to avoid Derek's full-on gaze. “You know. Like, in a ‘I might be kind of in love with the big bad alpha of Beacon Hills’ way.”

Derek suddenly paused and Stiles’s throat tightened.

“Only if that’s okay.”

Beyond them, the music had changed again, turning into something more lively. But Derek still didn’t move and Stiles forced himself to meet the man’s eyes once more, trying to expect literally anything— he didn’t even know what to hope for anymore.

Derek’s brows were furrowed. His expression was a little quiet, a little gentle.

“Derek?”

“It’s about time.”

And Stiles blinked, mouth dropping open. But before he could even say a word, even wrap his mind around what had just been said, Derek was leaning forward and Stiles closed his mouth right back shut as warm lips brushed against his own.

In an instant, some part of his mind screeched. Some part logged off and logged back on again. And one more part replayed that one time he’d run into a wall after Derek had simply growled his name.

Then, Stiles fell right into the kiss and thought what had he even been feeling again?

So much.

But when Derek kissed him for the first time that night, the first time since they'd met, all soft and warm with the Hale house lit up behind them and the smell of barbecue in the air, Stiles realized he only felt one thing right now.

Full.

It kind of felt like the future. Kind of felt like home.

There was another picture hanging on the living room wall after Stiles went off to college, right next to the one of the Hale family. In it, some eyes glowed kind of creepily, some eyes didn't. Some people were holding each other tightly, some weren't. But they were all side by side, and they were all smiling. Older Derek Hale was smiling, just like all those years ago.

Standing next to him, eyes glowing for completely non-werewolf-related reasons, Stiles Stilinski was too.

- -

A/N: so I kind of mixed and matched prompts for this and it ended up being waaay longer than I expected. But I hope it turned out alright? I adore you both @wolfile & @pickosita5stwin !

#sterek #teen wolf #sterek fanfic #teen wolf fanfic #eternalsterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #stiles x derek #ficlet #6k+#stiles stilinski x derek hale #prompts

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adriensaltprompts · 3 years

Text

Submitted Prompt: When the sleeping Hatred and Self-love becomes sentient.

Akumatised!Amokized!Marinette AU.

tw for blood, injury and (implied) death.

——

We all know that Adrien is an awful person.

His attitude as a civilian in allowing Chloe and Lila to keep mistreating and lying to his classmates who he is ‘friends’ with, him guilt-tripping them so they leave the bullies alone, and of course, him using his “my father is harsh and strict” excuse to escape some if not all of his obligations to them even when he is fully capable of going with them and nothing bad might necessary happen except if an Akuma attacked.

But some can easily state that the worst of his actions are done when he dons his “hero” mask, the so-called anonymous mode named Chat Noir where he can act as cruel and selfishly as he wants and no one can know it’s him.

And while he is using this anonymity, he uses it, to fool around, not taking his job seriously and endangering everyone around him, and keeps harassing his own partner, Ladybug, demanding kisses, touching her without consent, expecting her to become his, and deciding to “punish” her when refused.

For him, it matters little wether people died or not, wether people got hurt or not, wether his partner hated his advances.

Because, to him, it’s just a game, and it doesn’t matter what happens to the people as all of that would be fixed at the end, or the trauma he is causing to Ladybug. All what he cares about is satisfying himself by tormenting and manipulating those around him to cater to his whims.

And he knows, that Ladybug doesn’t have any real choice in the matter. She can’t be too harsh on him lest he leaves her alone, and she also can’t air her emotions too openly or Hawkmoth might possess her, And her responsible attitude makes it almost impossible for her to actually do anything that can make the consequences stick to him.

For him, her growing hatred and fear was something to laugh at, the futility of her effort to escape his clutches amusing him.

The population believes that they are a couple, or are going to be. Ladybug’s denials keep falling on deaf ears, and no one except her recognizes the horrors behind his charming mask.

As far as he is concerned, it is a Game Over for the heroine, and sooner or later, she will be his.

Except…

Just because Ladybug’s voice can’t be heard, it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t exist.

Just because she supresses her hatred, it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t exist.

Just because the scars don’t show, it doesn’t mean that they don’t exist.

Just because her superhero self gets harassed, it doesnt mean that the girl behind the mask doesn’t feel the pain.

It’s quite unfortunate for him that he wouldn’t get that, because the villains will use any chance they can to win, regardless of who they are.

——–

Marinette returned to her home at night after fighting another Akuma, tears about to fall from her eyes.

This time, the Akuma was not as powerful or stubborn as many others, but she wasted a lot of time to defeat her, because, he wouldn’t stop pestering her.

He wouldn’t stop hindering her.

He, he… he…!

He. Wouldn’t. Stop. Touching. Her!

Why does he not get that she won’t like him!?

Tikki’s frantic voice managed to help her calm down, but only barely.

Her sleep this time, was not a peaceful one.

The images of Chat Noir’s sneering face, the memories of him touching her kept showing in her subconsciousness, and with her fear, anger and hatred towards him started to slip from the recesses of her mind, twisting her already creepy nightmares into a pit of despair where Chat Noir gets erased with no chance of ever returning.

And Mayura, who was awake along with Hawkmoth found a very interesting target.

Mayura took a feather that became black, and sent it toward the sleeping girl, as Hawkmoth prepared his Akuma.

The feather entered into her hair tie that was on the desk, and soon Marinette’s hatred and rage intensified, and a blue smoke appeared and vanished, showing a Marinette wearing a white armor, with red aura around her body.

This Amok was the manifestation of her hatred against Chat Noir specifically, and those like him who want to possess and control her in general, and wants to help Marinette in her life and lift her burdens.

The Amok didn’t get enough time to focus before a black butterfly entered her green eye-visor.

“Phantom,” Gabriel spoke, “I am Hawkmoth, and I will give you the power to stop anyone who harms you, and in return I ask you to get me the two miraculouses.”

She raised her eyes and left the room quickly and silently lest Marinette wakes up.

She needed that rest.

“And why should I help you?” The Amok asked him unimpressed.

“Because if you don’t, you will just disappear.” Mayura’s voice resounded in her mind now.

She thought for a minute, and then decided.

“I will accept, but on a condition; give me the power to slow down and stop the time of those who harm me, and I will help you.” she stated, knowing that the villains are too prideful and arrogant to think twice before turning someone into their victim.

Hawkmoth had an evil smile as he accepted her demand, and had the Amok transform.

Phantom now had a violet armor with black aura.

The villains smiled at this for a few seconds after the trasformation.

Only for them to be unexpectedly thrown into the wall with strong force.

Their bodies collided with the walls, and they each felt pain.

“It’s useless, your injuries are fatal.”

Gabriel tried to ignore the pain and raised his head towards the source of the voice.

He saw Phantom, bathed in the sunlight that started to enter-

Sunlight!? He was shocked.

They had akumatised her at night! So how!?

“Ah, so you are surprised about it being daytime? Well, I have to admit that it was very difficult trying to track you with the slightest traces of our link while you both were practically frozen in time, but I am a stubborn one I guess.” Phantom said, showing both her hands, revealing that she has both of their miraculouses.

“Unfortunately for you, I am not interested in letting you live.” she donned both miraculouses in her armor, and approached them, her fist clenched.

———

Marinette was in her class, trying focus on the lesson but couldn’t stop thinking of what she felt when she woke up.

That weird feeling of… Protection? Love? She couldn’t understand it, and neither Tikki could.

The hair tie she wore yesterday was missing, but that’s all she had seen.

Suddenly, her classmates screamed.

She looked, only to see that just outside of the school in front of the windows, a figure in a violet armor.

“Tell Ladybug and Chat Noir that I am waiting them in the empty classroom next to yours, and if they don’t come, there will be some dire consequences.” she simply said and with that, she disappeared.

Marinette exited and went to transform as her classmates ran out of the class.

She saw the Akuma in the empty classroom, sitting on a chair so casually, and that made her guarded.

Chat also just came and entered the classroom, making her even more worried.

There was no knowing what could happe-

Her train of thought stopped when the Akuma moved her hands, revealing a single thing that she easily recognized. Her own missing hair tie, around the Akuma’s wrist like a bracelet.

The shock made her pause for a second, which was more than enough for Phantom to easily stop Chat Noir in time, and go straight for his ring, the enclosed space making the distance between them laughable for her.

When Marinette awoke from the shock, the Akuma had already taken the Ring, exposing Adrien.

This time, Marinette felt like she was slapped, but she forced herself to ignore it for now.

She will cry after the fight.

Only, the Akuma didn’t attack her and simply kept looking at her.

“Gabriel Agreste and Nathalie Sancoeur, they were Hawkmoth and Mayura respectively.”

“What?”

Marinette saw the Akuma open her palms, and there were the mirculouses of Hawkmoth and Mayura.

“You desired from Chat Noir to stop harrassing you, now he can’t. Not with his identity discovered. And now even Hawkmoth and Mayura can’t use your feelings against you.”

She went and gave the hair tie along with the miraculouses to Marinette.

“Now, you can rest.”

Marinette looked at the Akuma, who was now giving her an honest, gentle smile.

——–

Rules for the blog - send a prompt

#Adrien salt #adrien salt prompts #ml salt #ml salt prompts #miraculous ladybug #ml writing prompts #Adrien Agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Ladybug #Chat Noir #Chat Noir salt #Original Amok #Original Akuma #submission #Show!Miraculous #Show!Marinette #Show!Adrien

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animeyanderelover · 3 years

Note

You said you're gonna open requests for a short time today, so are they opened now? Feel free to ignore this if they're not opened yet. Can I request prompt 109 with Kanato please?

You sent them in in the right timing, don’t worry.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationship, unhealthy mindset, possessiveness, obsessiveness, bipolar behavior, chocking, screaming, pushing, violence, vicious behavior

Prompt 109: “I know she’s cute. BUT SHE’S MINE! TOUCH HER AND I’LL KILL YOU!!”

The air had had turned all so sudden so incredibly suffocating, way more than you had ever expected it to be. And given the fact that you had experienced something like this already so often, way too often, it led your lips to wobble and your knees to nearly give in. All you really could do in that moment was staring with wide and teary eyes at the purple-haired boy who was just standing in the doorframe, a weirdly unreadable expression on his face. It made all the nerves in your body go crazy. This wasn't good. He was quiet! Way too quiet for his character. There was no rage, no anger nothing in his eyes. Why was he so emotionless? Shouldn't he be yelling, screaming, hurting someone right now?

Chances were that he would let his ire out on you, something you were terrified off. You hadn't forgotten the last time you had left him unsatisfied and jealous. Your body hadn't forgotten it either, the bruises still not fully healed. Backing away wasn't a good idea either or else you would bump into his brother Ayato. Both were currently doing some sort of glaring contest, Ayato having narrowed his eyes in an annoyed manner and Kanato still having this frightening hollow and penetrating look in them. And you poor victim found yourself stuck between those two, feeling like you were just dust right now since no one of them was currently even noticing your presence. But you didn't dare to move, if you were honest you couldn't even. Your body was neglecting you the ability to move, your instincts clearly stopping you from pulling the attention back on you.

The fact that no one had said anything for a while was even more nerve wrecking, it made it harder to judge what they would do next. All you could suspect was that they might just start attacking each other without you even having time to react. It was so unbelievably silent that you could hear everything right now, thw wind blowing outside the window, the slight breathing of Ayato and Kanato and most of all your own heartbeat which was drumming like crazy against your chest. Could they hear it as well? In your opinion it was painfully loud, but it seemed they were busy with other things.

"That's ridiculous! (y/n), come over here. Now!", you flinched when you heard Ayato speaking for what felt like the first time in ages up, shifting with a weak heart around to him. He didn't even bother to spare you a look, he just continued to glare at his brother, clearly bothered with what Kanato had just said to him. You knew that both of them weren't guys to share, no one from those six was. But if you had to share the ones who were the baddest to deal with, you would give the trophy without a doubt to the triplets, all of them were horrible beings. But for you Kanato had always been the worst. He was incredibly dangerous, more than Ayato, more than Laito.

You just couldn't judge him and that made you feel scared. You never knew how he would react to this or that, if his reaction would be a positive one, if you could call him being bratty and annoying positive, or a bad one, the kind of reaction where he started shouting at you, grabbed you by your throat and pushed you around like you were some ragdoll. He was unhinged, unstable and for that you had never been able to understand him and his way of thinking. He was unpredictable, a joker. With Ayato and Laito you had at least a bit of an easier time to forsee their actions.

But you were scared of them as well, making you hesitate when you heard his demanding tone. Your throat had gone dry, your palms having become disgustingly sweaty so that you started to wipe them on the fabric on your clothes. Should you go to him? But what would Kanato do if you would? On the other hand, what would Ayato do if you wouldn't? "(y/n)." When you heard Kanato's voice, you instantly turned around, an unpleasant feeling creeping up your spine when hearing his voice. It had been a lot less harsh and loud like Ayato's voice had sounded like, but it had this certain something in it that would have managed to give people far less cowardly than you the chills.

You were met with dull purple eyes, a hidden insanity hidden inside of them that made you unconsciously step back a bit, noticed instantly by Kanato judging from the way his eyes shifted to your legs. And he didn't seem to like it one bit, pressing Teddy slightly tighter against his chest. "Y-you aren't trying to leave me for him, do you?"His voice was wavering, you as well as Ayato slowly seeing his hollow facade crumbling. It was an alarming thing to see, making you almost instantly step closer to him, fear taking control over your body, not wanting to anger him.

But this small action led to an instant small enragement from the red-haired boy. "What do you think you're doing, small pancake? Get back here this instant! You belong to Yours Truly!" You froze, mind being torn apart between listening to him or Kanato. "(y/n)." Kanato had stretched his hand out a bit, holding it in your direction. On the first glance it might have looked like a silent plead. But it wasn't the feeling you were getting from him. You could sense it in his eyes. It was a silent ordre, a clear warning to not even think about turning around, to not abandon him for his brother. Or else...

You heard Ayato tsk'ing, clearly getting majorly annoyed with you and the situation. "Stupid thing. Do you seriously think that he can keep you safe from me? Do you think I didn't notice how you keep lingering near him and start avoiding others? Don't tell me you're listening to him now because you're afraid of him." You tensed up when you heard him stepping closer to you, gaze being frozen on the ground. "You're scared, aren't you?" Another step closer, followed by another. How close was he by now?

You got your answer the moment you felt hair brushing against your cheeks, Ayato's face entering from the corner of your eyes your vision. "Do you expect me to care whether you're scared or not? The only reason you were brought here was to serve as a bloodbag, nothing more. You don't get to choose with whom you can stay or not. You don't have any power. I on the other hand have the right to decide over you. And if pain is really the way to make you submissive and obedient, I can give you that even better than he can. You're after all very cute when your face is scrunched up in pain. Should I show you?

You couldn't help tears falling down your face when you suddenly felt his hand wrapping around your throat, starting to squeeze it tightly and causing you to choke on the air. You felt nauseous the moment you saw the grin on his face obviously loving what he was seeing. "See? I can give you just what Kanato gives you all the time. You must like it if you stick close to him for that reason, right? I can make sure that you'll look even cuter when in pain. All for my eyes."

"I know she's cute." You turned your gaze through half-closed eyes to Kanato who was looking at you two with wide eyes, many emotions swimming in them. Ayato looked at him as well, clearly unimpressed by him. "So what?" He gave Kanato a slightly challenging look, pulling you with the hand wrapped around your throat closer to him, making you start seeing black spots.

"BUT SHE'S MINE!" The outburst was all so sudden that it catched you as well as Ayato by surprise, Kanato suddenly appearing right in front of you two, ripping Ayato's hand in a way away that made you fear he might twist your neck in the process and shoved you harshly aside. Your ass was met with the hard ground, making you twist your face a bit when you landed wrongly and started coughing, air suddenly filling your lungs again. "TOUCH HER AND I'LL KILL YOU!!"

You weren't surprised that Kanato hadn't been concerned the least bit about whether he would hurt you or not, having gripped Ayato's clothes and shaking him violently to which Ayato on the other hand tried to free himself, his hands pulling on Kanato's arms in an attempt to make him let go. You slowly crawled away from them, not wanting to risk getting caught in the fight. You better stayed away, especially from Kanato, he looked like he was seriously about to kill Ayato. His one hand had by now been placed right above the boy's throat, threatening to crush his neck at any moment. And Ayato seemed to sense the same thing, looking all of a sudden a bit stressed out.

"Fine then! Giving it a second thought, she's more boring anyways! You can keep that pathetic girl for yourself! She isn't worth all the troubles!" He jerked backwards, making Kanato lose hold on him, stumbling a bit clumsily back before straightening himself up. He turned around, shooting you a sharp glare before leaving that clearly told you that this had been your fault. Ayato hated losing to others. You had this nagging fear that he might try something later on. But you also knew that this was currently the smaller of the two problems.

"You ungrateful bitch! Why would you let him touch you?!" The second Ayato had completely left the room, you were already yanked upwards by Kanato, who looked wrathfully at you, making you burst out in tears once more. "You would have left me for him, wouldn't you?! Admit it!" You quickly shook your head, fearing that he might break your hands if he would add a bit more pressure. "I-I would never. I promise. I don't-don't plan on ever leaving you."

He stared intensely at you, obviously trying to judge whether you were telling the truth or not. The look in his eyes was fearsome, he had unleashed all his unstableness he had kept hidden before. "...I don't believe you."

A huge smile made it's way on his face, one that wasn't comforting at all. It was too big, looking like his mouth was hurting. Next to that it didn't reach his eyes and looked terribly fake to the extent that you felt bill raising up your throat.

"You're a liar. I don't like when people lie to me. And if someone lies, they have to be punished. That's what my mother always used to do to us when we were little." The next thing you knew was a mindbreaking pain filling all your senses.

#yandere diabolik lovers #yandere kanato #yandere kanato sakamaki

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spactcle · 3 years

Text

you say it first

Archive of Our Own Link

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Fandoms: Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou Language: English

Summary: “I can’t tell him.” “Why not?” “Because then he’d know.” Kirishima and Bakugou seek advice from their friends about UA's worst-kept secret (except, apparently, from them).

“I think I’m in love with Bakugou.”

Kaminari is bent over his homework, cheek resting on his fist. His shoulders freeze, he doesn’t look up from his workbook, but his pen stops scrawling across the page. After a few beats, he lifts his chin and plops it on his fist instead.

“I mean… obviously.”

“What?”

“Dude, c’mon. I know I’m me and this will sound weird but let’s get serious and study, please? My grades don’t have time for you to state the obvious.”

“The obvious?” Kirishima pops up from where he's sprawled out on the ground, looking at Kaminari in disbelief. “How did you know?”

“Everyone knows, slick,” Kaminari retorts, sarcasm dripping from the nickname. “Now we have finals next week, can we please focus?”

“Everyone?”

“Okay.” Kaminari’s hands clap together and he snaps his workbook closed. “Clearly we are focusing on the wrong thing. Why are you bringing this up,” the tip of his finger jabs as his closed workbook, tapping at it for effect, “now?”

“Why have you not brought it up?” Kirishima accuses, arms gesturing widely.

“Because I thought you knew!”

“How would I know?”

Kaminari jabs his finger accusingly at Kirishima instead now. “They’re your feelings, Kiri!” His finger curls back into a fist and he brings it to his lips, brow drawing in with concern as he thinks. “Your weird, weird feelings. But still.”

Kirishima blows a raspberry at him, leaving his lips out in a pout with the gall to look offended. “How are my feelings weird?”

“Bakugou is an emotionally constipated trash can,” Kaminari deadpans. “And you’re… I don’t know? Whatever the opposite of that would be.”

“Diarrhea recycling bin.”

A beat. Kaminari’s face pulls back into a disgusted grimace. “Really could have done without that mental image.”

Kirishima shrugs and starts to nervously pull at his hair. It’s a Saturday and he didn’t style it today, just has his bangs pulled into a half ponytail behind his head. Kaminari has told him to just chop it off but Kirishima insists that it’s part of my brand, and besides how is Blasty going to call me shitty-hair if I don’t have any?

His confusion is what’s most baffling to Kaminari. They’re in their third year and it feels like Bakugou and Kirishima should have figured each other out by now – they know one another better than anyone else could, so how are they so bad at this? Kaminari figured out his feelings for Jirou the previous year, Midoriya and Uraraka got together just a few months later, and even Kendou and Tetsu finally stopped beating around the bush. Now that he thinks about it, a lot of people more emotionally dense than Kirishima have confessed to their respective partners, like Todoroki and Tokoyami.

One of Kirishima’s sharp teeth hangs over his bottom lip as he chews at the skin. It makes Kaminari feel a little bit bad. But only a little. He really should have joined Jirou and Momo for studying instead.

“Why are you bringing this up now?” he repeats his previous question but without the edge to his voice, trying to exercise patience for his friend.

Kirishima collapses on the table, voice muffled by his arm. “Because I don’t know what to do.”

“Tell him.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I.”

Kirishima lifts turns his head up slightly to glare at him from over his arm. “I can’t tell him.”

“Why not?”

“Because then he’d know.” He hides his face again.

Kaminari rolls his eyes so far back he’s surprised he doesn’t see the inside of his skull. “That’s usually the idea.” Kirishima’s answer is a wordless scoff, tongue sputtering around words he can’t form. “Just tell him. There’s no way he doesn’t feel the same.” The sputtering worsens and Kirishima snaps his head up from the table, gawking at Kaminari as his face turns as red as his hair.

“I said I was serious!”

“Yeah, seriously blind.”

“What?”

This time Kaminari is almost positive he sees his skull, but that could just be his vision whiting as he strains his eyes. “Kirishima Eijirou,” the full name absolutely required to get his full and undivided attention. “The fact that you and Bakugou have got it bad for each other is the worst kept secret in the entire school – except, apparently, from the both of you. I’m almost positive that there’s some kind of bet going around about when you two will stop being complete boneheads and make it official.”

Kirishima’s eyes wandered around the room as if searching for a cosmic answer to all his problems. “We… bet? Bakugou… I’m…”

“Yes. Now can we please study? And you can deal with your love life later?”

Kirishima’s cheeks grow big as he puffs them up with air and stares blankly at their workbooks. Kaminari gives him a full minute then clicks his tongue and starts to pack up. “Alright. I’m going to leave you here to process. Good luck, bro.” He sets a hand on Kirishima’s shoulder as he wraps his other arm around his schoolwork. “I know I said it was weird and all – and in my defense, it is – but I think we’re all rooting for you two.”

Lips formed around words that didn’t seem to want to come out of Kirishima’s mouth and Kaminari just sighed, patting him on the back before making his exit. He really should have just studied with Jirou and Momo.

- - -

“I think Kirishima is in love with me.”

Uraraka looks up from her place at the desk. She spins in her chair to find Bakugou collapsing on her bed, then she looks to find the hidden camera that someone must have hidden in her room. No one pops out of her closet laughing, and Bakugou is laying on his back staring at the ceiling, arms lying limp at his sides. He’s frowning in the way that he only does when he’s encountered an obstacle that he can’t quite figure out. So, this isn’t a prank.

“Why are you telling me this?”

He snaps up, rage normalizing his expression again, and argues, “Who the fuck else am I supposed to tell?”

Uraraka frowns at him pointedly and his lips fall out of the snarl and into a resigned grimace, a sign that she has come to recognize as his apology. “Kirishima, for starters.”

“Fuck that.” Bakugou flops back onto her bed. “Why should I have to do anything when he’s the one in love with me?” He gestures wildly at the ceiling like it’s the one that he came to for advice on his love life.

“Are you in love with him too?”

Instantly, his expression closes off. He turns his face away from her and lets his arms fall back to his sides.

“Bakugou?”

“Shut up. The hell are you asking for anyway?”

Uraraka’s cheeks blow up with air before she huffs at him. “It’s the obvious question.”

“The fuck it is.”

“If Kirishima burst in here, just as rudely as you did, and declared his love for you – what would you do about it?”

Bakugou’s head turns away from her, but she can see the back of his neck redden and she isn’t big enough to not feel satisfied by that. He’s treating his and Kirishima’s feelings as if it’s some huge secret and revelation – but she, Deku, Todoroki, and Tsu have a bet about how long it will go before one of them does something about it. Iida disapproves.

If it happens in the next week, the pot goes to Todoroki.

Her bet starts the week after.

He’s lucky that Uraraka is at least a big enough person to help him now instead of waiting.

“Probably something along the lines of,” she clears her throat, bringing her hands together and resting them against her cheek, then continues in a high pitch, “oh, Kirishima, I love you too! Sweep me off my feet!”

Bakugou sits back up before she’s even finished, hands poised to attack, and face screwed into a scowl, but the effect is decidedly lessened considering the deep blush coloring his cheeks. “Shut the fuck up if you want to graduate, round face!”

She leans back in her chair, lifting an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Bakugou, you obviously have feelings for him. This wouldn’t bother you so much if you didn’t.”

“It doesn’t fucking bother me.”

“It bothers you that he hasn’t said anything.”

“It—” His mouth snaps shut and his eyes dart away from her. His ears also start to turn pink and then he zeroes in on her with a sharp glare. “You bother me.”

Uraraka rolls her eyes and waves him off. “Everything but Kirishima bothers you.”

“He bothers me too.”

“Because he hasn’t told you that he loves you.”

“Fuck off.” He throws himself backward on the bed, again, arms crossed over his chest as he glares are the ceiling instead of her.

She observes him. Over the years, she’s learned to read Bakugou – being one of the few to earn his respect early on had those perks, if it could be called that. But she knows when he’s thinking too much – which is what he’s doing right now.

“Bakugou, why are you here?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Do you need me to tell you that you need to tell him?”

“I don’t need you at all,” he snaps, but there’s no heat behind it.

She ignores him. “You should tell him.”

Bakugou makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. “He’s the one that always goes on about manliness. What the fuck is manly about keeping shit to yourself?” His arms uncurl from his chest and his fingers make a fist. “Fucking own up to it.”

“Well, you’re the one that always says you do what you want,” she points out, tilting her head to the side. “So… if you want Kirishima, then shouldn’t you say something?”

He doesn’t reply, and his arms fall back onto the bed. Uraraka shrugs and turns back to her desk. Their finals are coming up after all and he interrupted her studies.

“I’m fucking going to sleep,” he says finally, pushing himself off the bed.

“Or you could help me study,” she offers without turning around, voice airy. She knows the answer to that.

“Fuck no.”

“Oh, that’s right. You only ever help Kirishima.”

There’s a small explosion as the door slams behind him, but Uraraka smirks and isn’t big enough to not feel satisfied.

- - -

What the fuck does Uraraka know anyway? She’d shacked up with Deku a year ago, so Bakugou clearly overestimated her judgment and overall sense.

Truthfully, not that he would ever say this out loud, Bakugou doesn’t know why he went to her room. He doesn’t know why he was so tracked on this when his main objective should be elbowing his way to the top of his class. Finals were soon for fuck’s sake. What the fuck was he worrying about Kirishima or feelings for, anyway? He is Bakugou fucking Katsuki, and he is going to be the undeniable number one.

Hands clenched into fists, the right one still steaming from his outburst at Uraraka’s last words, he takes the girl’s elevator down to the common area. Water first, then he’ll take another practice exam before sleeping. He shoves his clenched hands into his pockets and stalks across the common area.

It’s dark outside and the rooms here are empty, everyone already separated into studying groups or gone to bed. If this was two years ago, Bakugou would already likely have been asleep. He didn’t normally stay or socialize in the common room, and if he did it was only for a few minutes or maybe an hour. But Kirishima persisted and it was annoying. He wouldn’t fucking leave Bakugou alone or stop nagging him about hanging out with his peers more (Your friends, Kirishima would correct him, but Bakugou only started calling them peers in their second year). How was he ever going to connect more with their classmates if he just holed himself up in his room to study?

Fuck you. I fucking help you, don’t I?

Exactly! And now we’re best bros!

When the hell had Bakugou asked for more friends? He hadn’t even asked for the one!

But, honestly, he’s quietly glad he’d been forced out of his room, even if he won't admit it out loud or say it in so many words. Some – and only some – of his classmates were actually pretty cool. His friends from before hadn’t really been friends. Lackeys, maybe… Kids that were taken with the boy with a great quirk and a domineering personality. Other bullies, he reminds himself. And he’d been fine with that at the time. He hadn’t needed anyone else, and he hadn’t wanted them. He would think that other people would hold him back, ask for things, for compromises – or worse, look down on him.

Then Kirishima decided they were friends and Bakugou hadn’t really done anything to stop that from happening. It changed him… for the better.

Fuck. He needs to stop thinking about it. He’s got more control than this.

Bakugou gnaws at his lower lip, glaring at the bouquet of flowers sitting on the coffee table. Blue bell-shaped flowers that he couldn’t be bothered to remember the name of. What he does remember is everyone’s look of surprise when it had been Todoroki carrying those flowers, and with the confidence that he always seemed to possess, walked right up to Iida and asked him on a date. Four-Eyes turned redder than Todoroki’s left side and started sweating so badly that his glasses wouldn’t stay on his face. But the takeaway from the story for Bakugou was seeing Kirishima’s soft, almost sad smile and the awkward way he laughed it off when Bakugou asked him what was wrong.

Well, more specifically Bakugou asked, What the fuck is wrong with your face?

The petals were starting to wither at the edges, but Class 1A had really come together to keep them alive for this long, though he’s pretty sure it was the girl with the vines in 1B that was doing most of the work. The two classes met and hung out a lot more than they used to. It was always so damn loud now.

Scowling, Bakugou keeps moving toward the kitchen. Yeah, maybe it had been the wrong thing to say. Maybe. Like he doesn’t already know it was the wrong thing to say.

Are you in love with him too?

“Fuck,” he swears, throwing open the fridge. The water bottles were running low, and he frowns, taking one of the last four after a moment of consideration.

When he rights himself, he starts to close the door when Kirishima comes around the corner. Because of course he does, and of course he has his shitty hair down and not styled since Bakugou always thinks he looks so goddamn pretty like that. He looks just as caught off guard to see Bakugou. “Oh, hey man, what’s up?” He asks, his hand going to the back of his head and that fucking adorably shy, little smile on his lips – the one where Bakugou can only see his top teeth and his eyes crinkle a little.

You should tell him.

Bakugou grits his teeth at the thought and wills away the blush that threatens to dust his cheeks as he remembers what Uraraka said. “Water,” he grunts, the fridge door standing awkwardly open as a physical barrier between them. “What are you doing down here?”

“Snack,” Kirishima replies, with a small shrug as he moves closer and further into the kitchen. “Kaminari abandoned me to go study with Jirou and Momo, I think.”

“You think?”

And dammit the huffy little laugh Kirishima lets out, the one that Bakugou recognizes as him being embarrassed makes his heart stutter in his chest. “Yeah. I was distracted…” He starts absentmindedly looking through the cabinets as he speaks. “Thought some food might help, though.”

Bakugou shakes his head at Kirishima. “You’re always getting distracted. You need me there to keep you on track.”

Kirishima glances at him with that smile. “You study by yourself on Thursdays,” he replies with good nature as he moves to the next cabinet, the one full of nothing but dishes. When his eyes return to see the contents, he still stares into it like he’s looking for something, clearly feigning interest and clearly still distracted.

“You could’ve asked if you were having trouble,” Bakugou grumbles, his brow wrinkling as he watches.

Kirishima lets out another awkward laugh. “Yeah, I guess I could,” he agrees. He doesn’t move from the dish cabinet.

Is he pointedly avoiding looking at Bakugou now? A frown lowers on Bakugou’s lips and he stares at Kirishima’s profile for a long moment, waiting for him to say something else. Kirishima fills silences, not Bakugou. Kirishima doesn’t avoid eye contact, Bakugou does. Kirishima doesn’t stare into dish cabinets when he’s hungry and looking for a snack, Bakugou—well, no, he doesn’t. He shakes his head, annoyed with where this thought process is leading.

Bakugou doesn’t shy away from conflict. And neither does Kirishima. So…

“What the fuck are you doing, shitty hair?”

That seems to startle him, and his eyes tear away from the dishes. “Oh! There’s no food in here.” His sheepish laugh returns, but this time it’s annoying because that's the one he uses when he's trying to brush something off. “Guess I’m still distracted.”

“No. You’ve been acting weird all day.” Ever since the Todoroki-Flowers incident, but Bakugou doesn’t say that.

“Have I?” Kirishima asks, closing the cabinet as his eyes dart around the room and look anywhere but Bakugou.

That makes him grind his teeth. He knows Bakugou hates being answered with questions. He was going to wring this shitty-haired, perfect piece of shit’s neck. His gaze zeroes in on Kirishima and he narrows his eyes. “Kirishima.”

At the sound of his name, ruby-red eyes find Bakugou’s own, and he blinks rapidly. “Uh…” He stutters as sharp teeth worry at this bottom lip and Bakugou hates the way he can’t help but follow that movement. Pink dusts Kirishima’s cheeks and Bakugou’s hand clenches into a fist as he tries to avoid moving over there to touch and see if his cheeks are warming with the color. The bottle crackles in his hand as he squeezes it. “Sorry, Bakugou. I’m really just a little distracted, honest.”

Bakugou looks at him, his expression gradually easing out of irritation. He feels like there’s something in his throat and he still hates it. “Tch. Just come get your damn food,” he says, stepping away from the fridge like an offering. And he hates that he knows that Kirishima will recognize that as Bakugou looking out for him in his own way – that it’s his way of saying eat something and maybe that will help.

He hates it even more that it works.

A knowing smile flits across Kirishima’s lips and he nods. He says something that Bakugou doesn’t register because all he can think about is that Kirishima is moving closer and stepping around him to take a look in the fridge. He stands back, watching the back of Kirishima’s head as he looks through what he could eat, and the proximity makes Bakugou’s chest feel full, and his hands sweat, and he hates it.

No. Fuck. He doesn’t hate it.

Bakugou, you obviously have feelings for him. This wouldn’t bother you so much if you didn’t.

Uraraka really got in his head. Because she was right. It did bother him. Kirishima was good with feelings. He was the one that was always encouraging Bakugou to embrace his emotions – shit, all the nights they’d spent staying up talking after Bakugou woke from nightmares to a panic attack and Kirishima could hear him through the walls. Kirishima vocalized his worries and his anxieties, he used them to talk and relate to their classmates and lower classmen, hell, even villains. Because Kirishima was good.

It bothers you that he hasn’t said anything.

Of course, it bothers him! Why should Bakugou have to take the initiative here? He was never the one who had to take the initiative before. Kirishima brought him into a friendship kicking and screaming, but that didn’t deter him. Even on Bakugou’s worst day, he knew Kirishima would still be there.

Are you in love with him too?

Fuck.

“Kirishima.”

Kirishima rights himself and looks back at Bakugou like he’s surprised to hear his name again. He turns around and he’s backlit by the light from the fridge like a goddamn angel and fuck if he isn’t the prettiest thing Bakugou’s ever seen. Bakugou’s brain feels like mush for the first time in his life and all he can do is glare at Kirishima’s confused face while he tries to decipher what exactly possessed him to say this stupid, wonderful, infuriating, amazing boy’s name.

Well, you’re the one that always says you do what you want.

Before he manages to catch up with himself, Bakugou finds himself stepping into Kirishima’s space and reaching up to hold the sides of his neck. He's never done this before because no one has ever caught his attention like this, no one has ever felt so close to him as Kirishima, but fuck if it isn’t perfect when he presses his lips to Kirishima’s, swallowing the small gasp that passes his lips.

Kirishima is still for a few beats, but he moves just before Bakugou begins to worry that he made a mistake. His hands find Bakugou’s hips, and he presses back, tilting his head into the kiss.

Bakugou might not know what he’s doing, but even to him, it’s clear that Kirishima does. The hands at his hips don’t stay there for long as they wind behind him to lie flat against his back, just under his shoulder blades as Kirishima bends and pulls Bakugou up into him – when did he get so damn tall? And he will never admit to the noise that he makes into Kirishima’s mouth when his tongue pushes gently into his mouth, or to the way his arms secure around solid shoulders as his fingers twist gently into red hair. He’ll die before he ever says he feels lighter and over the moon and like he’s having a moment straight out of those stupid American movies that Ashido likes so much.

The kiss is slow and sweet and everything like what he thought a kiss from Kirishima would be, because now that he’s actually kissing him, he will admit to thinking about it before. He lets Kirishima explore his mouth with his tongue, letting him lead and he’s never been so happy to follow.

As it slows to a stop, their lips press together in a lingering way and it’s Kirishima that finally pulls away. Despite the way he’d been so confidently and thoroughly kissing Bakugou, his eyes are completely full of questions and some uncertainty, wide and staring at him.

Bakugou looks back at him and realizes they’re still wrapped around each other and he’s a little out of breath. He doesn't know what he did with the water bottle he had in his hand, but it's gone too. No, right now, nothing else matters. So, he sets his jaw and tightens his hold slightly on Kirishima’s shoulders. Resolve. He’s full of resolve. He’s Bakugou fucking Katsuki, and he goes after what he wants.

“I do what I want,” he says, his voice sure even if a bit winded. “And I want you.”

The way Kirishima’s eyes light up and a slow, blindingly happy smile creeps onto his lips sends Bakugou’s heart into fits and his stomach turns upside down with fucking butterflies.

“You want to do me?” Kirishima asks, a laugh tinging the back of his throat.

Moment ruined.

Bakugou’s cheeks warm faster than his quirk and he knows he’s turned the shade of Kirishima’s hair. “Fuck you,” he says, putting a hand on Kirishima’s face and shoving him away as that piece of shit laughs – and goddammit if it’s not Bakugou's favorite sound.

He pulls away, pushing off of Kirishima’s face as he goes and extracting himself from his arms. He storms away, hands balled into fists at his sides as he swears at himself because he doesn’t know how to fucking do this. The door to the fridge closes somewhere behind him and Kirishima’s laughter follows him to the elevator.

“Oh, come on, that was funny and you know it!” He says, catching Bakugou’s upper arm and letting himself get dragged onto the elevator as the doors pull open.

“No, it wasn’t,” Bakugou snaps, but all the fire there is just to mask his embarrassment. “I take it back. I hate you.” He shrugs off Kirishima’s hand and jams his finger against the button to their floor.

It doesn’t deter Kirishima in the slightest. It never does. “No, you don’t,” he laughs brightly. He takes his hand back, but steps back into Bakugou’s space as the doors close. “You like me.” His hands find Bakugou’s waist, and he turns Bakugou to face him, his lips pressing warm against flushed cheeks.

Bakugou turns his head slightly away, his hands grasping Kirishima’s forearms, but he can’t find it in him to pull away. “The worst,” he mutters, but still leans into the kisses pressed along his cheekbone.

A low chuckle rumbles through Kirishima’s chest – oh, oh that’s a new one and Bakugou doesn’t know what it means and he’s a second away from worrying about it because he’s gotten to the point where he can recognize Kirishima’s laughs or nonverbal cues and that’s new, but then Kirishima is stepping forward and pushing him back slowly. He presses against the wall of the elevator and it’s cold through his shirt but Kirishima is warm at his front and oh okay, fuck. There’s a little huff that works its way unbidden from his throat and his arms are moving without thinking as he clings to Kirishima.

“The worst, huh?” Kirishima grins, nudging his nose against Bakugou’s cheek for his attention.

And he gives it to him, turning his head back and letting Kirishima kiss him silly again. He feels hot all over, in a way that doesn’t have anything to do with his quirk. The cold at his back is exhilarating, somehow, as Kirishima presses him against the wall. He’s vaguely aware that the elevator has stopped moving and the doors are opening but he doesn’t care because Kirishima’s tongue is in his mouth again and it’s such a weird feeling but so, so right when it’s Kirishima.

Those lips trail away from Bakugou’s and he grunts at the loss, but then bites down on his bottom lip as Kirishima makes his way over his jaw and mouths at this throat. That’s when a whine – a fucking whine – forces its way past Bakugou’s tongue. His hands drop to Kirishima’s shoulders and he grits his teeth. “Fuck,” he growls, forcing his voice lower.

Then this mother fucker giggles and pulls away – and Bakugou honestly doesn’t know which one he’s more pissed off at – smiling at him. It’s blinding. “You’re so cute,” he exclaims. “I like you so much.”

“Shut up,” Bakugou groans, digging his fingers into Kirishima’s shoulder and ducking his head as he feels his cheeks redden again.

“Say you do what you want again! Say that you like me!” Kirishima pleads, laughing the whole time.

“Fucking—” Bakugou cuts himself off, not even sure what he wants to say. “You—” He growls unintelligibly again, and pushes Kirishima away from him, even if it is the gentlest push he thinks he’s ever given in his life. He slams his finger on their floor again, and the doors open immediately. He stalks around this laughing, amazing mother fucker and into the hallway, making a straight line to his room.

As always, ever since they were first-years, Kirishima follows. And he’s still laughing like an idiot, and there’s a section of Bakugou’s chest and stomach that is absolutely giddy, and he grinds his teeth instead of smiling. “Bakugou,” Kirishima calls, elongating his name and fuck it’s cute and he’s going to wake the entire floor up and if that happens Bakugou knows that he’ll die.

The door recognizes his fingerprint – a security measure that the school added in last year, but Bakugou knows it’s because some people just couldn’t ever keep track of their damn keys – and the door opens. Kirishima still follows him, stopping the door with his foot and a hand flat on the door. Damn, he is so lucky that Bakugou wasn’t slamming it because he didn’t even harden.

“I just want to talk,” Kirishima says, smiling sweetly at him. The laughter has mostly subsided, but it still shines in his eyes.

Bakugou’s heart thumps loudly in his chest, and he softens. He loves this boy and it’s so weird to think that so openly to himself now, but he likes it.

“And then, maybe you can cross a few things off your to-do list.” Kirishima waggles his eyebrows, that sweet smile turning into a knowing smirk.

Nope, nevermind, Bakugou hates him.

“You shithead,” he groans. But despite that, he walks away from his door and makes no move to close it again. A silent invitation for Kirishima to enter which is wholeheartedly taken.

It amazes Bakugou how relaxed Kirishima is in his room. He treats it like his own, acting perfectly at home and comfortable as he collapses on Bakugou’s bed. Meanwhile, Bakugou’s brain is reeling. It’s like there are red flashing lights in his head that are screaming at him, Kirishima is in your room and on your bed, as if Kirishima hadn’t ever been here before.

But it’s different now because he just had his tongue down your throat in the elevator and you’re hoping that he does that again, his brain points out.

And it’s fucking right, and Bakugou doesn’t remember the last time he’s felt this unsure in his own space. At least not about something this stupid. Sure, there had been his first year where he was the reason that his childhood role model and reason he decided to become a hero had to retire because of him. And the fact that, at the same time, his childhood rival was starting to rise to his level and surpass him. Kirishima had been by his side then, though, and that made things just a little better. And it made him want to be better. But now Kirishima was in his bed and laid out like a fucking angel—

“I can hear you thinking, babe,” Kirishima said, looking up at him with that smile again. The soft one that Bakugou thinks is probably the reason he fell in love in the first place.

Wait. Babe.

Fuck, he’s on fire, he knows it.

Kirishima laughs and holds out his hand, gesturing for Bakugou to take it. “Come sit down. Don’t worry, I promise I just want to talk.”

Bakugou feels so tense. His shoulders feel like they have rocks on them, but he takes Kirishima’s hand and the sweat that’s layering his palm doesn’t seem to be a bother as he’s tugged forward and onto the bed. “I’m not worried,” he grumbles, crossing his legs under himself, sitting across from Kirishima and he knows that his lie is utterly unconvincing in his presence.

The reassuring look on Kirishima’s face is almost enough to make him actually not worry. “Yeah, okay, tough guy,” he chuckles, looking down at their hands and rubbing his thumb over the top of Bakugou’s. It feels nice. Really nice. Bakugou didn’t know he could like physical touch this much, but it feels so genuine coming from Kirishima, who’s one of the only people who’s never been afraid to touch him. And now he’s holding dangerous hands so gently and, fuck, lovingly.

Bakugou can’t decide if he wants to pull away because it’s overwhelming, or dive in headfirst and drown in it.

“I’ve liked you for so long,” Kirishima tells him quietly.

Bakugou wants to say I know or That’s because you have good taste or something confident but instead, his throat feels too dry and he swallows, watching Kirishima’s hands stroke his own.

“I kinda… love you, actually.”

Bakugou dives. Kirishima’s not going to let him drown.

“Me…” He clears his throat when his voice comes out scratchy. Kirishima looks up at him and he looks hopeful, which Bakugou thinks is stupid. He doesn’t need to look hopeful, he should already know. Kirishima knows him better than anyone. For fuck’s sake, Bakugou had been the one to move first – for the first time in their friendship. Relationship? Shit.

“You?” Kirishima prompts him, and Bakugou realizes he’s just been staring at him like a dumbass.

“I love you,” he finishes because Kirishima deserves for him to actually say it, even if his voice is an embarrassed, low grumble. Not just say me too or yeah or some kind of quick exchange where Bakugou gets to leave it unsaid while Kirishima keeps carrying the burden of initiating everything. He doesn’t need Kirishima to initiate everything. He’s Bakugou fucking Katsuki.

Kirishima’s smile puts every other smile in his arsenal to shame. This one is Bakugou’s new favorite. This is the one he’s going to think about every waking second. The one that’s going to get him to do whatever Kirishima wants, and he’ll do it happily behind a mask of annoyance because that’s just how he is and Kirishima accepts that about him.

He’s Kirishima fucking Eijirou and Bakugou is so damn in love with him.

It is weird to say, though. Bakugou has never said those three words together before. But it’s not a bad weird, and he still feels like himself. That’s how he knows that it’s true.

“I love you, too!” Kirishima exclaims, reaching for him and cupping his face gently at the jaw.

“Yeah, you said that already,” Bakugou replies, averting his gaze for a few moments for his own sanity before inevitably being pulled back in by the magnet of Kirishima’s pure joy.

“And I’ll keep saying it,” Kirishima insists. “Can I kiss you again?”

“I’ll be fucking pissed if you don’t.”

Kirishima’s lips are already on his by the end of his sentence, because he already knew the answer would be yes. It’s just as good as the last three kisses, and Bakugou wonders when he’ll stop keeping count.

This one is different though because Kirishima is pulling Bakugou closer but they’re sitting down. But he wants to be closer, too, so he moves and it’s strange. But this is clearly not the first time for Kirishima, because his hands are on Bakugou’s waist to help him move and arrange them in a mess of limbs where Bakugou sits on Kirishima’s lap. Now his hands are on Kirishima’s neck and he’s above him for the first time. Hand spread over his back and the tension in his shoulders melts away. His eyebrows are scrunched together, and he feels so helpless but safe like this.

Then laughter once again bubbles up from Kirishima but this time Bakugou ignores him. He’s just happy. That has to be all it is. But it doesn’t stop and increases a little when Bakugou experiments with his own tongue, sliding it over Kirishima’s lips.

Bakugou pulls back and glares down at him. The tips of his ears are red. It’s not like he’s ever kissed anyone before so, of course, he doesn’t really know what he’s doing but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t do it confidently. “The fuck are you laughing for?” He frowns.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Kirishima says. One of his hands leaves Bakugou’s back and covers his face, pressing the pad of his finger under his eye, tears leaking out of the corner. “This is just crazy. I just went to get a snack.” He pauses, wiping at his eye and looking up at Bakugou with consideration. “Well, actually. I mean, I guess I did kind of get one.” He grins and his hands go back to Bakugou’s sides, looking him over appreciatively.

“Shut the fuck up,” Bakugou groans, dropping his head onto Kirishima’s shoulder. It takes him a moment to realize how natural that was, so he doesn’t move, turning his head into Kirishima’s neck.

“Does this mean you’re my boyfriend now?”

“Fuck off.” His voice is muffled on Kirishima’s skin and he fists his hands in the back of Kirishima’s shirt.

“You would miss me too much.” And fuck, if he isn’t right about that.

“Maybe,” Bakugou concedes, a little huffy.

Another bright laugh and this time Bakugou doesn’t try to stop the smile that creeps onto his face. “Alright, so now we can hold hands walking to class. I want to cuddle in the common room on movie nights too, okay?” Bakugou scoffs indignantly, but he’s ignored as Kirishima continues with his list, “You have to kiss me good luck before the big exams, too. And before we go on patrol. Oh! I wonder if Fat Gum would let you patrol with us, sometime!”

“You wanna be the one to ask Endeavor?” Bakugou retorts.

“Oh. No.” He feels Kirishima shake his head before he turns down and kisses Bakugou’s forehead. It’s so sweet and domestic and it’s a gesture that Bakugou doesn’t recall ever experiencing before. It makes him feel warm and he picks his head up to press a lingering kiss to Kirishima’s lips instead.

“I will, maybe, do some of that,” he says, knowing full well that he will do all of it if it means Kirishima will keep smiling like this at him, about him, for him, because of him.

“Can I tell everyone that you’re my boyfriend?” Kirishima asks, brushing a gentle hand through Bakugou’s spikes.

Wow. He really likes the sound of that. Kirishima’s. His. Boyfriend. Which also means, Bakugou’s, mine. It means he’s Kirishima’s and Kirishima is Bakugou’s. He doesn't mind being someone's if that someone is Kirishima.

“…yeah,” he agrees, nodding.

The smile. Yeah, that’s what he wanted to see.

“Can I call you Katsuki now?”

“You’re a menace.”

“You can call me Eijirou.”

“Get out.”

Bakugou isn’t sure how long they stay in his bed. They switch between kissing and talking for hours, and he knows it’s getting late because he’s exhausted and falling asleep on Kirishima’s shoulder. He vaguely realizes that he never studied more, which means Kirishima didn’t either. But they were distracted. He’ll make them study tomorrow and hold kissing hostage until Kirishima passes his practice exams.

To avoid Aizawa’s wrath, Kirishima eventually picks himself up to leave and Bakugou finds himself following him to the door. More lingering kisses by the door and Kirishima complains that he doesn’t want to leave and makes another joke about a to-do list. Bakugou pushes him out by his shoulders, Kirishima cackling and holding up his hands in surrender.

“Goodnight Katsuki,” he smiles, kissing him one more time as he leans back in the doorway.

“Goodnight,” Bakugou insists, mostly closing the door.

“Hm?” Kirishima hums, followed by another peck on the lips.

“Goodnight Eijirou,” he says again and receives a very triumphant look from his boyfriend. Fuck, he really likes that. Kirishima’s beaming like he’s won, but Bakugou doesn’t feel like he lost.

“I love you!”

“…yeah, yeah, you too. Go to sleep!”

It takes a few more tries, but he finally gets his door to close. He can practically see the heart emojis coming off of Kirishima as he leaves.

Finally, he collapses in bed, curling up under his blanket. He stares up at his ceiling blankly for a few minutes before he smiles, biting down on his lips to try to stop it. Then he finds himself laughing quietly, barely a breath and mostly out of his nose, but he’s laughing and he’s so happy.

No. No, he doesn’t hate this at all.

#kiribaku #bnha #bakugou katsuki #Kirishima Eijirou #uraraka ochako #kaminari denki #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #mha #p: my writing #ff: bnha

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angry-geese · 3 years

Text

Risotto Nero x Reader (Soulmate Goose of Enforcement au)

Warnings: none, sfw. minor goose related violence. Some light swearing, its pretty mild tbh. Gn!Reader

Notes: when it's time for two soulmates to meet, a goose appears. The goose is immortal, and cannot be deterred until said soulmates meet. The trouble stems from trying not to be mauled by said goose.

Tumblr ate this the first time i tried to post it so if you've seen this before I'm sorry, I'll have a new fic posted later this week

It's a beautiful day in Italy, and He is a terrible goose.

As a child, you never gave the idea of having a soulmate much thought. It was there. That's about it. As you grew older, you watched all of your friends and family find theirs and settle down, living their own happily ever afters. All of the typical ways people find their soulmate never came to you. No red string of fate ever attached itself to your wrist, no words ever appeared on your arms. The older you got, the less hope you had. Sometimes people were born without soulmates. Sometimes people's soulmates die, and they're left without one.

You're not sure which one is better.

You fell into the underground of Passione after a family debt. The protection fees were becoming too much for your family to handle. The gangs never protected anything. It was their way of trying to pry you from your home without outright killing you. When you stood up for yourself- what a mistake that was- things went wrong. It was your life, or a life of service. Do it or die. You became one of the cogs in Passione's well oiled machine, the gears that turn and run Italy's underground. Your life became replaceable.

You figured a soulmate wouldn't want someone like you. Maybe it was better if you didn't have one. Who would want a low-rate mafioso like you, anyway?

Risotto settled into the thought of not having a soulmate rather well. At a young age he was deemed the black sheep of his family, partly for his frightening appearance, partly for how hard he found it to fit in. He left to live with his nonna and cousin as a teenager, soon falling into the gangs after the death of his cousin. If someone was going to be born without a soulmate, it was him. His occupation didn't allow soulmates. Having a significant other would only serve as something else to use to hurt him. It's bittersweet, in a strange sort of way. As a child, he would run himself in circles trying to find his soulmate. But a partner would do more harm than good.

People like him don't get happy endings. That's a fate he's reserved himself to.

Risotto first spotted you from across the restaurant, your eyes locking for only a moment. You bumped into him, spilling a bit of wine on your shirt. Your eyes went wide as you muttered a slew of apologies. He brushed the entire event off. Truly, you didn't stand out in the crowd. From the very beginning, you had the wide-eyed, frightened look of someone new to this, standing among a group of people with the same traumatized look on their face. Really, he didn't give you much thought. He hated ceremonies like these. He hated having to wear a suit. He hated how open this place was. He would be noticed here, something that his job requires avoiding at all costs. Despite his discomfort, he's tolerated it this long. His team pays little attention as he walks outside, making an offhand comment about it being stuffy. The important parts are over anyway, he won't miss anything.

The crowd is getting to you.

Rarely you find yourself in a place so packed. Ceremonies like this are not commonly held. It makes you anxious seeing just how widespread Passione is. This isn't even everyone. Many of the higher ups- the capos and even the boss- didn't bother coming.

You head outside for a smoke. Your hands shake as you pull out a pack of matches. The cool evening air is a nice change from the stuffy restaurant. You watch as the sun sets over the ocean. A few sparse clouds float overhead, but the sky is mostly clear, painted shades of orange and pink.

To your left, you hear a menacing sounding honk.

A goose stands to your side, it's beady black eyes filled with malice. As unnerving as it is, you stay still. All it's doing is standing there, why bother it? It'll leave eventually. It's not like you're messing with its babies.

You absentmindedly shoo it away, going back to your cigarette.

Menacingly, it steps forward. Despite this, you stand your ground. It's a bird, what's the worst it'll do?

It takes a bite of the hem of your slacks, tugging of your pant leg. When you don't immediately respond, it chomps on your ankle. The bite draws blood, causing you to recoil, and step back. The cry you let out is pitiful. After a second, you regain your composure, now filled with unbridled rage.

"Piss off ya feathered fuck!" You say. You'd feel bad swinging at it, but it's clearly out for blood. It's awfully bold for something that doesn't even reach your knees.

Risotto emerges from the restaurant to find you being attacked by a goose.

He simply watches the event unfold from the safety of the patio. You flee in his direction, collapsing on the stones at his feet. Warm blood trickles down your leg, staining your sock and shoe. He's merely watching, up until he puts some distance between the two of you and your avian attacker charges. Risotto isn't scared, more than he's caught off guard. Animals tend to be afraid of him. Maybe they could tell what he did for a living.

The evil goose gives one last hiss before stepping back, nodding it's small head. The second either of you try to step away, its charging, hissing as if it's out for more blood.

You glace from it, to Risotto, then back to it.

When you stand, he towers nearly a foot over your head. Black eyes glare down at you. You want to shrink and hide under his gaze. He feels familiar. His very presence is comforting in a bizarre sort of way.

You've heard of this- one of the rarest ways to find a soulmate. There's no real explanation behind it. There's no reason behind the others, but they tend to make more sense than this. When it's time for someone to find their soulmate, a goose appears. The difficulty comes from trying not to be mauled by said goose. The goose is immortal, and cannot be killed or deterred until two soulmates find each other. That's it that's the au.

"You're my... soulmate?" You say. It comes out as more of a question.

Him? Seriously?

"I guess so."

His voice is quiet. It's very deep and would be intimidating had the circumstances been different. He helps you to your feet, holding your hands in his. He offers his arm out to you. You take it, leaning against him. He's rather warm. You brush some of the dirt off. He takes a moment, giving you a once over for any more injuries. You appear fine, despite your damaged pride.

It makes him wonder what group you'll be assigned to. Probably Bucciarati's. You seem far too meek for his team or the guard. In a way, the thought is comforting. A smaller group would be less dangerous than his.

"I'm Risotto." He says, even quieter.

Despite the comical circumstances, his heart races. He has a soulmate. A million questions are going through his head. 90% of them are asking "is that seriously a goose?"

"Y/N." You dust yourself off a bit. He commits the sound of your name to memory. "Wait why the fuck are you named after rice?!"

"Don't worry about it." He says. The corners of his mouth tug into a smile. You simply shrug.

"I think I need a band-aid." You say.

Slowly the goose waddles off, setting out for it's next victims.

#jjba x reader #risotto nero x reader #risotto x reader #jjba #risotto #risotto nero #crack #vento aureo #golden wind #jojo part 5 #jojo's bizarre adventure

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plainlo-inthemorning · 3 years

Text

A little written-in-the-middle-of-the-night Loki fic snippet that just grew another leg. TVA Loki + Lokane. Rating T.

(First part is here)

Shine a Light, part II

The tempad feels hot and slippery in his palm as he stalks down the hallway, quickly putting distance between himself and the hunter he left unconscious amidst overturned chairs and tables in the canteen.

The mess had already been there, leftovers from workers rushing panicked to man their stations. He had simply added one more touch.

Tiny droplets of sweat bead his brow and blood has started seeping though the tear in his crumbled shirt.

The fabric is clinging wetly to his bicep, but in the mayhem unfolding around him, nobody gives him a second glance.

For the first time, he is thankful at least to be wearing the anonymous uniform dictated by the oppressors.

He reaches the kill me kind of room again and shuts the door behind him.

You were meant to cause suffering and death.

You’re a cosmic mistake.

You were meant to die at the hands of the mad titan.

Lies.

All lies.

Still projected on the wall is the paused image of a lost memory of his unfulfilled fate.

He sees himself, Thor and her on the barren planet with the black soil. The man he never became is lying on the ground, Thor cradling him.

She watches them both in shock.

It resonates in his bones. He has to go there.

He has to reach his brother at this precise, excruciatingly rare moment of heroism. His act of heroism.

Before the scheming and deceit poison their bond once more in an endless loop of disappointment.

In this moment, all is forgiven. Thor will listen and help. A different path will branch.

And he has to go to her.

It is ludicrous, this riddle, yet the truth of it presses hard on his chest.

On the grainy roll of film, he saved her life and her eyes bore into his with such intensity, his acute need still reverberates like an echo between the walls of the kill me kind of room.

The smell of lilacs lingers.

What will happen when he faces his own self on the timeline, he can’t imagine. Also, he gives it little thought at this late stage with universal logic already suspended as it is. Hopefully he can reason with the man he was meant to be.

He has had quite enough of being his own past, present and future selves’ worst enemy.

And so he pushes the buttons on the tempad.

Something is very wrong.

The sky is too blue, the distant sound of waves lapping calmly at a shore is misplaced.

He has emerged from the door onto a quiet gravel road lined with tall grass and low pines. A single, white wooden house stands to his left, surrounded by a lawn dotted with wildflowers. The sun is warm on his back.

This is Midgard, he is sure of it.

How could he shoot past his destination so spectacularly?

He is about to scroll down the list of numbers and names on the tiny screen of the tempad when he notices a man approaching. Old, walking leisurely with a round, short-legged dog much the same white color as the mortal’s own wispy hair.

The latter starts a little when he spots Loki.

And then he does the most unexpected thing and speaks his name.

Loki’s name.

He almost drops the tempad (no! Not again) and the old one grins good-naturedly. “Hold on to your fancy phone there. Far away, were we?”

Loki only just about stops himself from shaking the man by his shoulders. His fists clench uncontrollably.

“What year is this?! How do you know my name?”

His voice sounds shrill, feverish, and unsurprisingly the eyes in the lined face before him go wide with puzzlement and … something else.

“Loki, what on Earth? Are you quite alright?”

Shock washing over him, Loki staggers back. H-how?

But the man is closing the gap between them, oozing concern. “Have you - are you drunk?” he asks incredulously.

He reaches out.

What is happening?

Loki shies away from the touch, his mind spinning.

Forcibly gathering his composure, he straightens and wills his words to come out steady. “No, I’m okay. Apologies. A bad joke”.

He smiles reassuringly. It takes more effort than parting an ocean.

The dog is sniffing insistently at his ankles.

The man looks him over with suspicion but the worry is subsiding. “Okay, then… no harm, no foul. You know, sometimes these peculiar ‘jokes’ of yours can make a neighbor all kinds of slightly worried”.

Neighbor?

“Most understandably, won’t happen again. Sorry to have bothered you”. Loki cuts him off smoothly. “Have a nice day”. He nods and turns before hysteria can creep into his voice.

“In case you need it for your punchline, the year is 2016”, the man calls over his shoulder as he shuffles away, pulling the reluctant dog after him.

Loki’s blood runs cold. 2016. Oh, this is so wrong. Three years wrong.

Did he hit another button at the last minute? He had been clutching the tempad so hard the edges cut into his fingers.

He curses his own impatience. Tech savvy indeed.

Holding up the blasted piece of TVA wizardry, he tries to enter a new series of numbers when his name rings out again.

And again, he almost jumps. But this time, his heart stays in his throat.

“Loki? What are you doing out here? I’ve been looking all over for you”.

Her voice reaches him from the porch of the white house. She is skipping lightly down the steps, the screen doors left open behind her. Music drifts into the garden from somewhere inside.

She is crossing the lawn. He is no longer breathing.

Her long auburn hair is tied back in a ponytail, and she is wearing a light blue summer dress. Her feet are bare.

Absurdly, he notes that she looks more tanned than the last time he saw her through the visor of the destroyer in the desert. A year and a lifetime ago. To him.

His grip on whatever reality he’s been clinging to since New York is seriously faltering.

She is beaming. He cannot move a muscle.

She comes all the way up to him and without pause wraps her slender arms around his neck. He can feel the warmth of her body through his shirt, smell the perfume of her skin. She smells of … -

“Where did you go, handsome?” She smiles playfully.

“Pepper called earlier to say that she actually got Tony out of the door on time, if you can believe it, so they’ll be here any minute. And her and I agreed that you two hotheads are going to play nice tonight, okay?”

She is teasing him but he hardly understands the words she’s saying. It makes no sense.

And then, before he can begin to form a response, she stands on tiptoes and kisses him and the world falls away.

Reflexively, he puts his arms around her, drawing her close to him. She moans happily. He leans into the kiss, not knowing what he’s doing other than that he never wants to stop.

Her mouth is soft and warm and new and familiar all at the same time, and the way her fingers curl in his hair sends electricity shooting down his spine.

It should be all anguish and tragic confusion, like before in the castle beyond time, but it is not.

It feels more right that anything he can remember since before his fall from the Bifrost, more real and yet more magical than his recent journeys into mystery.

Then it’s over all too soon and she draws away.

His arms are suddenly much too empty and he almost reaches for her again, craving her touch.

For a fleeting heartbeat, his soul had no longer felt torn apart to the point of forgetting he’d ever been whole.

The chaos had crumbled in on itself like a bad dream.

He is surprised he still knows what peace of mind feels like after what has happened to him since arriving at the TVA.

But now she looks at him with alarm in those beautiful brown eyes and he is crudely reminded that he is an intruder in her reality.

What she thought she saw, she clearly no longer recognizes.

It takes him all of three stupidly long seconds to remember that she said his name. That he’s wearing his own face and not a disguise.

That she knew him immediately, just like the old man.

She kissed him.

Too many impossible possibilities and the thunderous sound of his own heartbeat (surely she can hear it too) blur his vision.

He’s only vaguely aware that he is stepping towards her, trying to say something without the faintest idea of what’s going to come out of his mouth.

If it’ll even be words.

Her eyes dart over his clothes, his face.

“Loki, what - Why are you dressed like that? Have you been gone? Is that … blood?”

She retreats further, fear building.

“Jane, I-“

Her name rolls of his tongue with a sweet-tasting intimacy like he has said it a thousand times before.

But he doesn’t get to dwell on this, nor gather his thoughts to say anything else before something abruptly lifts him off the ground and hurls his body across the road.

“How dare you touch her, beast?!”

Immediately as his back connects with the rough gravel, someone is there, a knee pushing him down, fingers closing around his throat. A sharp object presses against his chin.

There is a dangerous, unhinged growl as his attacker breathes hotly in his ear. “You will die for this!”

The man is strong and somehow blocking Loki’s own magic, but he still manages to twist his head -

And looks right up into his own eyes, nearly black with rage.

“Speak! What are you??”

The man with a face exactly like his presses the tip of his blade closer to Loki’s left eye. “You will show yourself right now or -“

Gathering his magic tightly around him (focus!), Loki pushes back, hard.

With a surge of energy, their bodies are separated, and the other version of him lands heavily in the middle of the road some meters away.

Both of them are on their feet with the fluid movements of two panthers ready to pounce, the other now in full armor.

He has to leave, right now, even if means leaving her which is a catastrophe that might either kill him or make him try to kill his other self if he stays here another minute.

This timeline is clearly not his own.

It cannot be.

Arm outstretched to ward off his furious twin with a shield of magic, he tries to work the tempad with one hand.

“Well, well, what do we have here?”

A booming voice above their heads.

“You know, when Jane pressed the panic button just now, I thought we had an actual emergency. Not that you were preparing a little dinner show for us, Reindeer Games. Gotta be honest though, this doppelgänger stunt was never my favorite -“

“Stark!”

The variant - for he must be a variant - angrily interrupts the man in the metal suit hovering in the air.

Of course, Loki remembers him all too clearly.

What has it been, less than a week since he threw him, or a version of him, out the window of the glass tower?

“This is not my creation”, the variant hisses with venom dripping from every word. “I caught him assaulting Jane. Kissing her”.

“What?!”

Stark focuses all his attention (and one of his iron fists) on Loki. A metallic humming rises steadily from inside the suit.

“A man on a suicide mission then. Boy, did you smooch the wrong wizard’s baby-mama. He may look all domesticated and cute now, but I assure you he’s still all kinds of crazy. In fact-”.

“Hey!”

“What?”

“I know it’s asking a lot, of you in particular, Stark, but could we possibly save the personal insults till we have dealt with this right here?”

Wait, just wait.

Damn it, he can’t tap in the destination on the tempad without looking at it.

Green smoke is swirling around the hands of his other self. He knows what’s coming.

“This is your last warning, devil! I will not have you hiding behind my face as I -“

“This is my face! I’m you, you fool! Bigger things are at large here and-“ Loki falters, his silver tongue failing once more with rising predictability within what seems a disconcertingly short period of time.

Although he honestly can’t tell anymore.

“Please, take a minute -“

He can’t help but shout, sounding hopelessly desperate.

In another life, he might have felt humiliated, but letting pride dictate his emotions is no longer a luxury he can afford to indulge.

Still, the silence that follows his outburst is not nearly as long as he needs it to be.

The variant stares blankly at him, mouth slightly ajar, but Stark recovers easily, his voice now icy.

“Yeah, dude, that one might have worked better if you’d put on a clean shirt. Time to fess up real quick or we’ll have to-“

Drawing what might become his last breath, Loki looks away and down at the tempad. He presses the button. No more time to double check.

“What the?!”

Both Stark and the variant visibly flinch as the door appears.

He quickly makes for it. “I - I’m sorry. Truly, I am”. He looks to their stunned faces before turning to his exit.

Out of the corner of his eye, he registers the variant move (he has to be a variant). His mouth twists in an ugly snarl and two familiar daggers are appearing by his sides.

Before the door snaps completely shut, Loki sees Jane run up to the man and grab his arm.

“Love, no, don’t!”

He sees the slight bump under her dress that he didn’t notice before.

And then the scene disappears and he’s gone.

Part III

#loki #loki series #tva loki #loki laufeyson #lokane ff #lokane fanfic #lokane #jane foster #loki x jane #loki fic

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darealsaltysam · 3 years

Text

what your paladins main says about you

a comprehensive essay by a paladins player of right around 4 years

this is like really long so i’ll make it under the cut so my followers don’t have to scroll through this if they don’t wanna

(for context i’m a current maeve main, i used to main skye and sha lin and played tyra a long while ago)

Androxus

it’s not a phase, mum

“i don’t care we don’t have healer, i’m really good at him i swear”

you ult every time it loads in and you die before the final shot

your favorite mode is siege because you can fly up and shoot the whole point on ult

you’re usually really stand-offish and don’t communicate much and/or a 13 year old boy with anger issues

Ash

you are level-headed but in a scary way

you will hold the point solo even if it costs you your streak

“get on the point” “guys get on the point” “attack the objective”

you’ll ult to save yourself 99% of the time

good leader

Atlas

you probably used to main lex or androxus before he came out

“he’s like a flank, but a tank, he’s great!”

you chase after solo kills instead of sticking to the point

healers hate you, flanks and damages fear you

your favorite mode is death match

Barik

you’re a former/current tf2 player looking for something fresh

you don’t like working too hard so you spam turrets on the point and hope for the best

“healer stick to me i’m boutta ult”

actually really nice between rounds

but you don’t communicate much mid-game and kind of do your thing

Bomb King

you’re a really old player. you have the beta makoa skin and you were there when lex was first released. veteran’s discount.

your favorite maps are the old ones and they barely show up any more

the team always underestimates you

“who plays bomb king in 2021 lol?”

you need a hug

Buck

“wait, he’s a flank? i thought he was a tank??”

you’re also a veteran in the game

you’re a dying breed. i like never see you. do you even exist?

you’ve been here since like the first day of the game

buck gets so many skins and you want all of them but the best you have is a random recolor

Cassie

sweetest person alive

“we can do it guys! let’s try to all rush the point this time!”

you are the bane of every flank

the opposing team hates you, your own team kind of doesn’t notice you’re there

*casually gets a pentakill*

Corvus

you know those weirdly political kids who like ww2 and know the details of every tank to ever exist? yeah that’s you

but like that’s corvus. as a character.

but no one ever plays him.

like i never even see him do you exist???

you are a cryptid.

Dredge

yo ho you’re a hoe

no seriously the other team views you and they FEAR you

“yeah i just got a penta kill” “YOU WHAT?” “eyes on the point mate don’t get distracted”

hella good at the game and hella casual about it

you like onslaught on the one sea map the most

Drogoz

another veteran, are we?

you’re either useless or can wipe out a whole team in seconds. there is no in-between.

you always have a really cool skin.

dovahkiin, dovahkiin...

“i don’t care about the point i gotta get them trips”

Evie

you bought her because you thought she was cute, admit it

*turns into ice right before dying* *turns into ice right before dying* *turns into ice right be

your personality type is identical to her. no question about that.

always buys faster reload and better speed

strangely good communication with the team

Fernando

gay gay homosexual gay

“he’s kinda hot if you look at him the right way”

fernando is the tank for gay people

you are gay people

i don’t have much more to say

Furia

mum energy. not as much as inara mains, but still, mum energy.

will protect every member of the team with your life, even the flanks

you’ve been maining her since she was first added

i bet you didn’t even know she’s canonically seris’ sister

“we’ve literally failed to capture the point the last 3 times we might as well give up and go to another game”

Grohk

“yeah i have a gremlincore tumblr blog, how could you tell?”

i honestly have no words

you’re kind of like a catboy but a racoon

do you even heal the team or do you just pretend

you were there when lex got announced and thought he was cringe, now everyone finally agrees with you

Grover

he was your first purchased character and he’s stuck around ever since

he’s the only healer you can play well

“i am groot lmao”

you would never say a word to your team

would give your life for the tank but that’s about it

Imani

daenerys targaryen on drugs

your favorite anime is my hero academia

your husbando is todoroki

you see where i am going with this

“team protect me i’m gonna ult” *dies 5 seconds into ult*

Inara

BIG MUM ENERGY

your team is your family. you will protect them with your life.

can only hold your own with a good healer so you have good teamwork going for you

*cutely places wall in front of your ult*

useless in tdm so you stick to onslaught, siege and koth

are you a furry, furry, or a furry?

“victow! dont ult on my tweam pwease! uwu!”

you 100% find her attractive in some way shape or form

you are either a 30 year old redditor who enjoys loli content or a 16 year old teen who is playing a shooter for the first time

she’s kind of cute, i guess

Jenos

i can never tell if i’m going to absolutely destroy you or if you’re gonna kick my ass

*cutely holds you up so the whole team can shoot you to death*

kamehameha

you’re a healer??? i guess???

your character has such deep lore and i bet you don’t even know half of it

Khan

one day you were playing and your team desperately needed a tank. you picked the first one you saw. suddenly, you’re lian’s foot stool

despite 2 layers of heavy armor, you’d still let this man walk all over you

“this skin is really cool, wish it wasn’t behind a pay wall...”

YEET

you actually know the game’s lore, for some reason

Kinessa

i never trust people who are good at a sniper. if you’re bad that’s natural and you’re 99% of the population. if you’re good you are definitely up to something

you’d sell your sister for 5 pennies if you could

you’re missing from the team all game and somehow have the most kills

“we have a kinessa???”

you are an urban legend to your team

Koga

someone’s been watching naruto

you are so shit at the game. like i’m sorry. no one’s good at koga i’m so sorry

how do you have so many skins for one character???

you’re always missing from the point

healers hate you. so does the enemy kinessa.

Lex

quit the game /nm

“who mains lex in 2021??? lmao???”

wall hacks, aimbot, and it’s all legal for you as an ability. you are a hacker in a world of puny vanillas. you like it easy so you go for the easy min max character. have fun getting hated

you think he’s hot and press on his loading abilities just so he can scold you and you can hear him being mad at you

*bonk* go to horny jail

Lian

"she could step on me”

you used to main some sort of healer but switched over when you got sick of everyone being needy

you can hold a point all on your own for a really really long time but the moment your team gets there you start flunking

you wish you had more skins for her

you don’t

Maeve

so imagine this. it was like 2018 and you were just chilling playing the game. you kept getting killed by maeve. in every game. she was in every game you went to and she kept killing you over and over and over again. you got frustrated, snapped, and bought her to see if you could do the same to others. you are now the maeve in every game. the cycle repeats.

your whole team doubts you but then you casually get a quad kill and they just sort of look away

you die a total of two times each round and 99% of the time it’s because you go too fast and fall off the map

you repeat everything she says in her accent because you think it’s cute

“welcome to ze meant streets, kitten!” “can you shut the fuck up” “i hate to cut and run, he-he!”

Makoa

you have the plushie skin or the beta skin, otherwise you don’t main and only play casually stop lying to yourself

“attack turtle go brrr”

you’re really good if you get paired with a good healer

otherwise you’re useless

you wish you could get better teammates because you could really thrive with an organized group. but on paladins you won’t get that, i’m sorry-

Mal’Damba

i always forget this guy is even in the game

you’re definitely under 6 foot IRL

you have an older sibling you always fight with

you’d love to have a snake irl

you’re really chill outside of the game, but when playing you hella rage

Moji

you are so precious

but also such a little shit

you annoy me but i also want to give you a hug

“let’s go guys!! to the point!! wheee!!”

please never change but also get out of my sight

Octavia

you always main the new character until the new person drops

somehow always have enough credits to buy the new champion whenever they come out

you don’t like having a stable main cuz you get bored

you like hanging out at the training rage

hate siege and love team death match, you like your games quick

Pip

you are the worst and best thing to ever happen to this game

you only pick him to heal yourself and hardly ever heal your team

no one notices you there until you ult

then you get focused

honestly you just seem like you wanna do your thing and i can respect that

Raum

you probably go to therapy or desperately need it

“BIG MAN BIG. HE IS BIG. BRRRR”

you always love the demons in media

you like being in charge of the team and wreck the point any time you are there, you like fighting on your own but having a healer nearby is nice too

you probably have daddy issues

Ruckus

you think ruckus’ and bolt’s dynamic is cool and that’s one of the main reasons you started playing him

he’s the only tank you can play

you used to main either inara or ying at some point but chose violence instead

really short irl. you physically relate to ruckus and spiritually to bolt.

“funny goblin man :)”

Seris

certified girlboss

you can hold an objective all on your own or heal your whole team no problem. either way you are SLAYING

“alright. who’s ass am i kicking today?”

mum energy is inferior to inara but still kind of there

i’m like 50% sure you have a foot fetish

Sha Lin

*pointing and chanting* incel, incel, ince-

whether that’s about you or the character you can decide

you like minecraft bedwars on the side

“if i don’t get this headshot i am literally going to spontaneously combust”

really useful when there’s no other long distance people - otherwise a nuisance

Skye

AWOOGA *jaw drops to ground, eyes roll out of head* BOOBA BOOBA BOOBA

you bought her for the tiddies, didn’t you?

she’s actually really satisfying to play once you get the hang of her, but can be real tough on rough days

you need a break i think - maybe play some other game for a bit?

*casually gets team kill with ult*

Strix

you own at least one pretty knife

you played him when he was unlocked on rotation, fell in love, and spent a whole evening collecting credits to buy him fully

“haha bird man”

i’ve said what i said about snipers. if you’re actually good at him you are hiding a body somewhere. i fear you.

why does everyone ship him with viktor????

Talus

little furry child

he reminds me of tommyinnit because he is small and annoying

if you play him you are tall and intimidating

i’m friends with a tall scary talus main

i can’t say bad things please spare me

Terminus

you always ult at the worst time and just get killed again 5 seconds after

“hey losers watch this” *goes on the point, dies, revives, kills one person and dies again*

you’re only a good tank if you cooperate

you don’t

on your own you’re a pretty good player

Tiberius

*sigh*

you think the cat is hot, don’t you?

“his accent is kinda cute tho hehe”

you saw that one ending scene in zootopia with the dancing tigers and it CHANGED you

you are probably a furry. if not your awakening is coming. be ready.

Torvald

you’ve been playing this game for too long

you’ve seen skins rise and fall. you’ve seen nerfs and buffs. you’ve seen reworks and remakes. you are ancient. older than the dragons and wiser than makoa. respect.

people see you on the opposing team and get really annoyed

“the point is really crowded, we can’t move in” “don’t worry guys, my ult is charged up”

you’re really good at all the characters but you like this guy a lot because you think he’s funky fresh

Tyra

you’re either new to the game or have been playing for too long

either way you can KICK ASS but you need to keep behind your team to do the most damage

flanks are the bane of you, especially the fast jumpy ones

you really want one of the cooler skins but you can only ever get the basic ones. such is the curse of maining one of the OG characters.

“bite me”

Viktor

you are level 100+ guaranteed, and everyone fears you

“oh shit they got a victor. flank focus him”

you probably play COD and CS:GO normally and wanted to go with something familiar and easy. your skill from the other more advanced games DWARFS everyone else

but why are you playing “guy with gun 132″ in a game with magical elves and fairies. like come on bro.

you don’t have any in-game friends because paladins is your guilty pleasure game you would never admit to

Vivian

“step on me” syndrome cranked up to 100%

this woman could spit on you and you’d still respect her more than your own mother. good for you

“i’m not a simp. i’m just tier 3 subbed to pokimane ironically”

you sweat the game hardcore. former victor main or he’s your secondary.

you’ve got her on level 50+ at least

Vora

like the maeve mains but somehow worse

bought her out of spite or played her while she was on rotation, now here you are grinding credits for her a day after she became unavailable

honestly you’re really good at the game i have nothing else to say

you enjoy the newer characters more than the OGs - you’re either a former vivian or lian main

you miss the play of the game feature in the game because you’d get all of them with this girl

Willo

you seem like the moji mains at first but show your true colors soon after

“fuck you” x50

you are a trash talker on max overdrive. you need to sit down, do some breathing exercises and have a drink.

you hate your own team more than the opposing guys

when you see a willow on the opposing team you make it your sole goal to eliminate her as many times as humanely possible

Yagorath

i bet you didn’t know she was canonically female until you read this

you don’t like sweating too much so you pick the tank that leaves you heavily relying on your healers and damages

you can hold a point really well so you like siege and onslaught

“are vora and yagorath connected in the lore somehow and do i really care?”

you have a friend who you always party up with to be your healer, otherwise you might switch to another character

Ying

“tanks love me, flanks hate me”

you are too powerful. literally. how are you so strong

you’ve mastered the most difficult healer in the game. the others are really easy for you to play but you have trouble with seris

motivate your team a lot but start shading and trash talking if they don’t cooperate

you’ll gladly play someone else for a long while and like taking breaks from her

Zhin

this is your first main after switching over from overwatch. we can smell it on you.

you’re really annoyed with his personality and voice lines but the character is too good to play for you to pass him up for that. you respond to his voice lines aloud very aggressively to let him know he’s an ass

“YES ZHIN HEALERS AREN’T USELESS YOU SELFISH PRICK”

you try your best but you’re not a great team player

infinite trips on a good day, die repeatedly without kills on a bad one and you switch over to vora or skye for a bit.

this took me hours to write out pls leave reblog and note thanks uwu

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