#if you need everything but it's getting obnoxiously long just slice that bad boy up

[sharkneto]

Any tips on writing longer chapters but making each scene count and not be pointless filler?

The thing with chapters is they are as long as they need to be.

I never go into them with the thought "oh this will be 5k words". I know my chapter will probably be around 5-7k, but that's just because I know myself now and that's usually how many words it takes for me to get through a scene/moment. But not always! Sometimes it's done in 3k. Sometimes it takes 15k (which I usually then break into a Part 1 and Part 2, but they're initially written together as one long chapter before I split it). Coming in with a word count estimate is also almost always pointless - you are never going to be right on how many words you're going to need so it's a waste of time to try and hold yourself to one (excepting a drabble or if you're writing for an event with a specific word count).

If you're finding yourself just writing things to try and make your chapter longer, take a step back and look at what you've got and why you're trying to add more. If it's just for the sake because you want a higher word count, stop. Word count doesn't matter, more words isn't always better. Short chapters are fine. They're fun and punchy.

If you're adding more words because it feels like something is missing, look at the structure of what you've got going on. A story follows the structure that's a rise to climax and then fall to resolution. Chapters are a bit the same way with space for cliffhangers (end on climax, no resolution until the next chapter(s)). The point of splitting material into chapters is to give scenes breathing room and readers rest stops along the way through a long story. They're also great for pacing readers, building or releasing tension, depending on how you're splitting them. With that, each chapter should have a reason for existing on its own. I like to have one main or two related things happening, supported in the beginning with an "intro" to bridge the previous chapter to get into the action and a "conclusion" to bridge it to the next (assuming you didn't end the previous on a cliffhanger and aren't jumping right into action and aren't ending this one on a cliffhanger). Chapters shouldn't stand alone from the rest of the book, they can and should lean on things set up in previous chapters, but having the same rough structure is how I think about them and helps me figure out where a problem is if I have one.

So, you're writing words to fill something - where to look for the something? Are you missing context and need some exposition to better set something up? Are you missing dialogue to bridge an idea? Are you missing a beat that's a throwaway here but is foreshadowing a future chapter? Are you missing transitions so the main action feels abrupt?

The same thing goes for the other direction, trimming back when you have too much. Do you have too much exposition so it's dragging? Do you have extra dialogue that you like but doesn't serve any purpose? Are you cramming too many details in when a couple would cover the same point you're trying to get across? Are you repeating yourself?

Sometimes you just have to cut bits, even if you love them, because they just don't work for your pacing and are detracting from the main point of the chapter/story (remind me to post the deleted scene from the last JT chapter - I adored it but it fucked the pacing as I was streamlining the chapter). Keep the deleted bit in a folder somewhere - you'll always have it to go back and enjoy and more often than not it will be reslot itself back in with new context later in the story or in a different fic.

A lot of these are also just general pacing/writing advice, for overall stories and not just chapters, but see my earlier point about thinking of chapters a little bit like stories themselves (but not stand-alone!)

TLDR: Chapters are as long as they need to be. If you've told the scene you want to tell in that one and have set up the next chapter, don't worry about it if it feels short. If you haven't, figure out exactly what bit you're missing and fill it in, rather than padding for the sake of padding.

#i feel like i started rambling in here #and i'm going to be honest my genuine top advice is ''chapters are as long as they need to be'' #if it is getting long and feels like it's /too/ long give it a careful read for if you've got padding that can be cut #sometimes you will sometimes you won't #if you need everything but it's getting obnoxiously long just slice that bad boy up #there. problem solved. two normal sized chapters #idk how helpful any of this is i feel like it got away from me a bit but! here you are #writing #sharkneto speaks #long post

[rocorambles]

Meeting in the Middle

Pairing: Sakusa x reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Yandere, Misogyny, Controlling Behavior, Degradation, Non-Con/Rape, Spanking

Summary: Sakusa shows you that he’s more than capable of meeting you in the middle and listening to you for a change. But be careful of what you ask for.

A/N: This is for the Poly Wives Angst Collab~ RIP us and our never ending collabs we create for ourselves.

If someone had told you five years ago that you’d be dating one of Japan’s most eligible bachelors, a professional athlete fawned over by media and fans nation-wide, the epitome of the strong and silent type, you would have laughed in their faces. What is this? Some silly fairytale? The childish checklist of “things I want in a boyfriend” you’d written in middle school?

But life has a funny way of working and you find yourself in an obnoxiously lavish and rowdy nightclub, made only more crazy by the surprising appearance of some VIPs.

It seems like volleyball has somehow become Japan’s national sport overnight and although you aren’t necessarily the biggest follower of anything remotely athletic, even you know exactly who the rambunctious trio catching everyone’s eyes are.

You can’t deny there’s more than just a bit of appeal in the way their button up shirts cling to toned muscles, but you’ve never been one for crowds and you stray to the emptier corners of the establishment to avoid being swept by the crowd of excited fans. But when Atsumu cheesily winks and flirts as he signs scandalously bared skin of female fans, you mockingly gag, only to whirl in embarrassment when you hear an amused snort from behind you.

“Not a fan of Miya Atsumu?”

Staring wide-eyed and slack jawed when someone asks you a question is very rude and you want to answer. But you don’t trust yourself with basic human speech when Sakusa Kiyoomi is staring at you expectantly. So you shake your head side to side instead, heat rising to your face at the small upward curve of his lips.

“Neither am I.”

Atsumu never lets the two of you live down how he’s the one who technically brought you together, even if it was at the cost of his pride. (You chuckle when you remember his loud squawking when Sakusa recounts the dialogue exchanged at your first meeting.) But even months later, even after Sakusa has officially introduced you to the rest of the MSBY team, even after they’ve accepted you as part of their cozy and rowdy family, you can’t stop feeling impostor syndrome.

Dating Sakusa still feels unreal and you can’t help but feel like you’re living someone else’s life, stuck in a rose-tinted dream, playing dress-up and make believe as you parade around in clothing far more luxurious than you’re used to, whisked around on your lover’s strong arm as you follow him around the world from match to match. And as lovely as it is, you long to truly make this relationship your own, to feel the rawness and grittiness of love and life, to experience the charm and comfort of being true to yourself and knowing Sakusa loves you just as you are.

But your desire to be with him, to call him your own trumps your own wishes and you find yourself quickly backing down everytime you suggest something that he’s quick to turn down, desperate to appease and please him even at the price of your own desires.

He’s never outrightly rude about his preferences, never raises his voice. But somehow that makes the judgement and disdain in his dark eyes that much more apparent. You remember a rough day of work you had, the relief you had felt about being able to swiftly swap your constrictive work apparel for a pair of worn-in shorts and a baggy t-shirt. Your outfit would certainly not win any fashion awards, but you blissfully sigh at how comfortable you are as you call a local pizza shop, ordering delivery self-indulgently.

You could feel yourself becoming one with the couch you’re lounging on, the television playing in the background. But even in the hazy in-between of sleep and alertness, your eyes snap open when the door opens and you lazily smile as your boyfriend enters your shared apartment, returning from another grueling practice.

“You look like you’ve had better days.”

Your smile slips, anxiety flooding through you as you self-consciously curl in on yourself while his lips purse, eyes scrutinizing your sloppy appearance.

“Umm, yeah...tough day at work-”

“Maybe you should freshen up with me. You might feel better in a...real outfit.”

You know better than to think that it’s really a suggestion, cursing yourself, humiliation coursing through you when you think of how foolish you were to get so comfortable so quickly. You’ve seen the caliber of the women who lust over your boyfriend unabashedly despite his long-time relationship with you. You need to try harder. You need to be better.

Self-deprecation rips you to shreds as you painstakingly groom yourself, donning a dress you know Sakusa loves, applying a full face of makeup and a spritz of his favorite scent. And despite how exhausted you are, how much you’d rather be slumped on the couch, gorging on a slice of pizza, it’s all worth it when you see the appreciative look in his gaze as his eyes rake over your figure.

But worry gnaws at you once more as the doorbell rings and his eyebrow raises questioningly at the interruption. It’s a painful walk of shame as you plaster on a fake smile, tipping the delivery boy, the usually tantalizing smell of cheese and grease only making you nauseous as you bring the box to the dining table.

“What is that?”

“Dinner…”

Your voice trails off and you feel so small, so pathetic as Sakusa’s face borders disgust as he observes the offensive item.

“You didn’t cook?”

The disappointment in his voice has you spewing excuses and apologies, your heart shattering when he merely waves off your ramble, telling you he’d order a salad from elsewhere and to enjoy your meal.

You never order pizza again and a steaming hot plate of freshly cooked food is always waiting for Sakusa when he returns home while you patiently wait for him with a painted face and impeccable outfits.

Your friends and family tell you how grateful you should be, how envious they are as they oggle your latest high-end designer pieces, cooing over how picture perfect the two of you always are, staring wide-eyed at your gorgeous home, not a speck of dust or object out of place. Who would have thought that you would be the epitome of the ideal housewife in such a short time?

Yes, you wonder. Who would have thought? Certainly not you.

If only they knew how deep down the deception goes, how lost you are in this pretend world you’re stuck in. And your heart twists and turns when your friends share about the little and big spats that happen behind closed doors, giggling and sighing in an understanding you’re not part of when they playfully complain about how much work love is.

But it’s always worth it in the end because the good always outweighs the bad if you’ve found the right person (not to mention the makeup sex is a bonus). Or so they say, but you wouldn’t know what any of that feels like. Sakusa doesn’t leave room for any arguments, any disagreements, any hint of anything less than a perfect relationship.

Even in the privacy of your bedroom, you feel like you’re in a cheesy porno, dressed in the prettiest white slip dress decorated with dainty lace and a string of pearls around your neck. You feel like a doll as you’re positioned on the bed, eyes demurely looking down, letting Sakusa do as he pleases while he guides you, calloused hands roaming over your skin. You’re sure he means for it to be pleasurable and intimate, and you can’t deny that he knows your most sensitive areas, shuddering when he grazes over your hardening nipples. But there’s a coldness to his movements, a calculating aspect in the way he examines you, dark eyes scrutinizing every inch of you as if they’re looking for a blemish, a reason to lecture you on not taking care of yourself.

Yet as predictable and standoffish as he is, he does know how to pleasure you and you writhe underneath him, moaning, lower lips dripping in your own arousal. But you whimper when he growls at you to stop moaning so loudly, to stop acting like a slut.

“I’m dating a lady, not a whore.”

The words cut you, pain and emptiness mixing with the rising pleasure, muddling into a confusing and overwhelming mess insides of you. You don’t trust yourself to speak, hot tears pricking at your eyes, unsure whether a moan or harsh words would slip past your lips. But you know that neither will work in your favor, so like always, you hold your tongue, doing whatever you can to keep your lover happy. You close your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the tightening knot inside of you, submitting to the waves of pleasure that crash over you as you cum, fingers tangling in the rumpled sheets, back arching in ecstasy.

Only when Sakusa is asleep, his back turned to you, the two of you cleaned and freshened up, do you let your tears stream down your face, feeling more alone than ever in your shared bed.

You hold out longer than you should, much longer than you should, in the hopes that things will improve, that Sakusa will loosen up, reveal his true self to you, let you reveal your true self to him. It’s just early dating jitters, early relationship issues. Things will get better.

Except it’s months later and things aren’t better. If anything, they’re worse and you can feel the weight of his expectations and the stress of perpetually living by a prewritten script crushing you.

It’s time to put an end to this charade.

It’s just another uneventful night and you idly stare up at the ceiling as you wait for Sakusa to join you in bed. Your heart is racing, throat feeling dry and choked up as he slips under the covers. You’re terrified, of Sakusa’s reaction, of ending everything, of starting from scratch. But you know it’s the right decision and when he finally settles in beside you, you begin to speak.

There’s only the sound of your trembling voice as you quietly tell him how you’ve felt all along, how everything has felt so prim, proper, fake, how everyday just feels like another session of rehearsing your lines, making sure you meet whatever standard he’s set for you. You want passion, real love, fights, laughter. You just want to be yourself. You just want to be with someone who loves you exactly the way you are.

“Kiyoomi, maybe we should break up. I don’t think we’re right for each other. I don’t think I’m what you want. I don’t think I’ll ever be what you want.”

“You’re right. Despite how much time, work, money, and patience I’ve spent to better you, you haven’t changed at all.”

You’re left reeling from the matter of fact harshness of his words, the slight exasperation in his tone, as if this is all your fault, as if you’re just a bothersome misbehaving pet.

“Prim and proper? Passion? Fights? So you’re tired of manners? Tired of being a respectable woman? You just want to fight and fuck like animals?”

You open your mouth to protest, anger licking at the open wounds his verbal assault leaves behind. But before you can retort, the air is ripped out of your lungs in a stunned yelp as your body is swiftly flipped over, your face shoved into the mattress until it’s a struggle to breathe, fabric and cushion all you can taste.

Your arms flail as you struggle to breathe, nails clawing at the sheets, arms trying to push yourself up against. But it’s no use against Sakusa’s strength and just as specks of black begin to enter your vision, fingers tangle with your roots and you gasp as your head is harshly jerked up, neck bending painfully back, jaw forced open from the strange position.

You whimper, tears beginning to blur your sight as a calloused hand turns your face until you’re staring at a condescending impassive countenance.

“If you want to be treated like a slut that badly, I’ll be a good boyfriend and give you exactly what you want. Ass up. Now.”

There’s no room for disobedience and spurred on by fear and pain, you listen, awkwardly shuffling into position, shame heating your face at how exposed you feel. But it’s only the start and you scream as a heavy strike lands on your bare ass, more and more blows raining down upon you, until you’re sobbing for mercy, agonized cries forced from your mouth, thighs trembling at having to support yourself through the torture.

Your upper body slumps in relief when the hits finally stop, but you flinch when fingers methodically prod at your entrance. You instinctively try to lurch forward, away from the touch, but it’s no use and you clench your eyes in humiliation at the sloppy wet sounds betraying your arousal.

“This is the wettest I’ve ever seen you. You really do like being used and treated like a bitch.”

You wish you could deny it. You wish you had the spirit to talk back, maybe even spit on that handsome face. But all you can think of is how full you feel as Sakusa’s cock slams balls deep inside your dripping hole, how deep he is inside of you from this angle, how overwhelmingly pleasurable the mix of pain and lust is as he uses you like you’re nothing more than a warm breathing sex doll.

All you can do is lewdly moan and take it, tears slipping down your face, drool seeping into the ruined sheets, eyes rolled back in your head. The coil in your stomach tightens and tightens no matter how hard you try and hold it at bay, desperately trying not to cum, not to inadvertently admit your body’s betrayal as it succumbs to every thrust. But it’s too much, the unfamiliarity of this brutal pace, the overpowering sensation of his tip reaching new depths inside of you, and you shatter to pieces, pussy convulsing, body twitching, pleasure like you’ve never felt before surging through you.

All through it Sakusa continues his relentless rhythm, a sneer marring his flawless face as he watches you suffer through your orgasm, writhing underneath him. It’s disgusting how much you love this, pathetic, pitiful, and yet he’s harder than he’s ever been, more turned on than he ever thought possible. And all it takes is a few more thrusts before he’s spilling inside of you, a strong hand holding you still and tight to him as his groin presses against your ass, not an inch of space between the two of you as he paints your insides white.

Maybe you had a point all along. You’re absolutely filthy and wrecked and he grimaces at the tear, sweat, and sex stained mess he touches as he shoves your exhausted body away from him. Yet there’s a certain appeal to your disheveled appearance, how ruined you are because of him.

How beautifully you break.

Well if you have no desire to improve yourself, he can learn to meet you in the middle, learn to let you be the low-life whore you have no desire to move up from. After all, that’s what you said love is, right?

Accepting each other’s differences.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere sakusa #haikyuu smut #sakusa x reader #haikyuu x reader #sakusa smut #tw: yandere #tw: noncon

[wesimpforxiao]

Say My Name and I’ll Be There:  7.3

"You shall serve under Childe," the Tsaritsa gestured for you to rise to your feet.  "Mezzetin."

"Uh...bless you?"

"Thus is your new name:  Mezzetin," the archon repeated, raising a brow at your attitude.

"That's not my name."

"Am I hearing you break the contract you proposed to me only a few minutes ago?"  You bit your tongue to refrain from ripping her a new one.  "Childe, why don't you show her to her new room?"

"It would be my pleasure."

Childe led you down an especially long corridor that brought you to what looked like a type of barracks situation.  He opened a door that stood on the left side of the hall and showed you around.  It wasn't that bad of a room; it held a balcony that looked over the snowy landscape outside.  The walls were a deep burgundy color with dim lighting, which only seemed to further mock your dark circumstances .

"How do you like your room, Mezzetin?"

"If I hear that god-awful name again, I--"  That's odd.  Why is there a mask on my bed?  You picked it up and noted it was the same color as the walls.  It might have been slightly similar to Xiao's mask, in that it looked relatively animal-like.  It was harbinger-status, being that it held no similarities with that of the Fatui agent or skirmisher masks and was completely unique.

"Ah, that caught your attention?  It's yours."

Why was there already a spare mask? I barely made the decision to join them not even ten minutes ago.  Do they have a surplus of masks here?  Your gaze rose to Childe's in a questionable manner.  

"What?"  Childe let out an awkward laugh.

"Nothing."

"Well, I should get back to the throne room and let you adjust here for a bit, no?  I'll return soon."  His suspicious hurry to leave made you roll your eyes, but your attention just returned to the mask in your hands.  

Why did they already have a mask for me?

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

"Well done, Childe."  The Tsaritsa praised her devoted weapon of war as he knelt before her.  "When you proposed your idea to me I wasn't sure you'd be up for such a task, especially since you hate deception.  Everything played out exactly as you expected.  You have earned my praise."

"Thank you, Your Majesty."  Childe rose to his feet and revealed a dark grin.

Signora slowly clapped her hands as she approached the teen.  "To think that our youngest and most inexperienced would come up with a plan to manipulate the girl into joining us by manipulating Morax into waging war--you have matured greatly, Childe."

"Your praise is appreciated, Fair Lady."

"Just do your job correctly and make sure she doesn't get any bright ideas to turn on us," Scaramouche walked out of the throne room.

"Not one to praise another, as expected," Childe sneered.

"The sixth harbinger is correct, Childe.  While your plan has succeeded, your duty does not end here.  Such is why the girl will be in your hands; do not fail me."

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

"...What do we do now?" Aether's voice pierced the snow that fell upon the trio as they headed for the Snezhnayan border.  The walk had been excruciatingly long and quiet, the atmosphere holding a somber note and sour aftertaste in everyone's mouths.

"...I suppose we continue to look for you sister," Zhongli suggested.  "That is what you originally gathered us for, is it not?"  The archon kept his gaze on the snowy ground.

"It is..." Aether's gaze shifted to Xiao, who was quieter than he usually was.  "What do you think, Xiao?"

"I'm returning to Liyue and continuing my duty."

"So that's it?"  The boy stopped in his tracks.  "We're just going to give up on her? Is that it?  I'm not going to just sit around while she's still stuck in that dreadful place.  Don't you two cherish her like I do?  Don't you, Xiao?"  His hands curled into tight fists as he thought about Lumine.  He couldn't comprehend the idea of giving up either of you.

The two adepti halted, and the yaksha met Aether's eyes.

"Don't think we haven't noticed how the two of you look at each other," Paimon popped up and put her hands on her hips.  "You two like each other more than teammates!  We're not stupid! So why are you just walking away?"

"She chose her path," Xiao stated.  "It's not like I can dissuade her from her decision; she clearly felt strongly about it."

"If she does not wish to be saved, there is nothing we can do," added Zhongli.  

"Well she clearly thought you guys were going to get a bunch of innocent people killed over her!"  Paimon huffed.  "Of course she wouldn't want to be saved if it meant all that death would be her fault!"

"Paimon..." Aether's gaze wavered at his emergency food.

"And you!" The mascot switched to Xiao.  "She clearly loves you, but you have no idea what that means even though it's bright as day that you feel the same for her!  Why didn't you tell her?!"

"I can't make much of human em--"

"No! Here's what's going to happen.  You're going to go back there, confess your lovey-dovey feelings and get her out of there!"

Xiao disappeared before their eyes, obviously agitated by Paimon's annoying rant.  "Great," Aether pulled at his hair.  "Now look at what you did, Paimon."

"He needs to hear the truth at some point!" She huffed.

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

"Xiao?"  Aether and Paimon investigated the Wangshu Inn as soon as they got back to Liyue a week or so later.  "Are you up here?"

"What do you want?"  The adeptus appeared next to them in a similar manner to when they first met.  He was just as unwelcoming as he was back then.

"We made some almond tofu!"  Paimon made a giddy gesture to Aether, and the boy held the dish out to Xiao.

"We thought you would like some," he gave a faint grin.  The yaksha didn't return it, instead returning his gaze to the moonlit scenery past the railing.

"I'll pass."

"Oh..." This is really bad.  Aether sent a worried glance to Paimon.  "Are you sure?  You love almond tofu."

"Mortal food is not to my liking," the yaksha grit his teeth in agitation.  "You should leave.  There's no reason for the two of you to be here."

"Don't be so rude to us!  We came to talk about her!"  Paimon flew forward so that she blocked Xiao's view of the scenery.  "We know how much you care about her.  Isn't there a way to contact her somehow?  You know, with your psychic abilities or something?"

"This conversation is pointless.  If there's nothing else, see yourselves out."

"Xiao."  Aether's shoulders dropped as he tried to figure out the correct words.  He failed to come up with something, and looked to Paimon.  "...Let's go."

Xiao didn't bother to glance their way as they made their exit, instead focusing on the scenery below him.  He hadn't heard from you since you saw him off.  'I love you,' she said.  Why does remembering it hurt so much?  He shivered as he remembered the look in your eyes.  They were so gentle, kind, yet broken.  Like you had just...given up on life.  Just what had Childe done to you to make you say those things?  His thoughts were fortunately interrupted when he felt a shift of energy carried through the wind.  He looked to the Guili Plains up ahead, and dispersed.

The yaksha came upon several lawachurls, which were relatively uncommon to the area compared to other places in Liyue.  The evil that consumed them reeked of gods past. Xiao didn't hesitate to wave a hand over his face and manifest his yaksha mask, throwing himself into his life-long work of defeating the evil that plagues Liyue.  Only this time, he used it as an outlet for his frustrations rather than solely fighting to fulfill his duty.

"My fight goes on."  That's right, he watched the demonic smoke whirl around him.  My fight does not stop for her.  My duty is here.  He twirled his polearm and leapt through the air, slicing at the closest lawachurl.  Since he and the monsters were far from the nearest road, he let loose a little.  And by a little, I mean a lot.  

The nearest trees splintered from the shockwave of his attacks, with the other lawachurls shaking off the bulky rock armor off their backs.  The ground rumbled beneath their feet.  Xiao plummeted to the earth and subsequently killed the first lawachurl with the blow.  Then he moved onto the next one, finding no fear in the monstrous bellow that greeted him face-to-face.  He shoved the lance through it's bottom jaw and jutted it through the skull with little effort.

The third charged just as he removed his polearm from the corpse of the second.  This time Xiao whipped around and thrust his weapon into the monster's knee, yanking it out to then deal several blows across its chest and decapitate it.  "Worthless," he growled as he watched the monsters disintegrate.  He continued his attacks on the remaining four until he stood alone among the ruins.  He watched as the spirits of the damned returned to their rightful places in the earth.

Xiao thought nothing of the disturbed soils and began to walk towards the inn once more until the demonic voices called out to him.  Some were quiet, no more than a whisper, while others were obnoxiously loud and demanded attention.  They moaned and whined, each having a unique pitch of anger tinging their curses and cries for help.  Xiao fell to his knees, with his body leaning on his polearm as it was overwhelmed with the hatred of the damned. He forced himself to take a deep breath. Not this again.

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

Your time in Snezhnaya wasn't fun so far, and you often secluded yourself in your room whenever you had the chance to avoid the Tsaritsa or her little puppets.  Childe checked on you often, doing so in a way that showed his concern for your obvious depression as you longingly stared out into the winter wonderland from your window.

You were being pestered by Childe yet again when you became overwhelmingly dizzy and nauseous.  "Urk--"  You doubled over and grabbed onto the curtain to steady yourself.

"Hey, are you alright?"  Childe put a concerned hand on your shoulder.

"What is...this...?"  Your fit of nausea transformed into an overwhelming hatred for nothing in particular.  You fell to all fours, heaving from a level of anger never experienced before.  "What is this!"

"...Comrade?" His words were drowned out by the desperate screams that entered your mind.  Your hands hurried to cover your ears in an attempt to make the voices stop, but they didn't disappear.

"They're so loud!"  You cried out, now in physical pain that was equivalent to being set on fire and shredded with knives.  "Stop!  Shut up!"

Childe quickly dropped to your level and lifted your chin up to examine your glowing eyes and the tears drenching your cheeks.  "What's wrong?"  He mouthed, but you still couldn't hear him.

"It hurts!"  You coughed, one hand covering your mouth only to be retracted and painted with your blood.  I'm bleeding?  Panic set in and the pain only worsened, the voices getting louder and louder while Childe desperately tried to get you to answer him.  "This hate!  Why do I feel so hateful?  Make it stop!"  You were screaming hysterically now, squeezing your eyes shut and clawing at your ears until they too began to bleed.  "Make it stop!"  Your senses were easily overwhelmed, and all you could focus on was the pain and the volume of the voices surrounding you.  "Please!" You couldn't seem to catch a decent breath of air like something heavy was sitting on you.

"Hey now!"  The harbinger watched the blood spill from the lips.  This is...  He pulled you close to him and held you tightly, ordering for medical aid when an agent burst through the door from hearing the ruckus.  "It's okay, it's okay--"

All you could do was continue to heave deep breaths to quell the rage that resided within you, to quell the demonic voices that demanded you to succumb to them.  Childe didn't let up his grip around you and pressed your head tightly against his chest.  Rage.  Hatred.  Agony.  The feelings tore through you like you were made of paper.  It was hard to explain, but the emotions felt otherworldly; nonhuman.  Your blood continued to seep from your mouth and soak into Childe's clothes while he continued to rock you back and forth.  Your screams were a mixture of cries for help and manic giggling as you lost all sense of rationality.

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

"Hey girlie," the familiar harbinger was hovering above your face when you finally reopened your eyes.  You were apparently still in your room, this time lying in bed with a damp cloth draped across your forehead and the moonlight illuminating the two of you.  "How're you feeling?"

"Mn."  You blinked sluggishly and tried to move around.

"Ah, I wouldn't do that.  You were bleeding internally, you know," he let out a strangled laugh as you returned to your original position.  "You really had us worried for a sec."

"Yeah right." The growl that emitted from your throat seemed to put Childe off guard, another flash of concern waving over his demeanor.  It was clear residual hatred still resided in you even though that was your usual response to his remarks.  Your eyes were still glowing.

"You feel his pain now?"  He raised a brow.  "Is that how this bond works?"

"What of it?" A dry giggle escaped your chapped lips as the hushed voices continued to plague you.

Interesting...This could pose a possible problem for the soldiers...I should inform Dottore immediately.  Childe removed himself from the bed and headed for the door.  "I'll check on you in a few hours.  Try and get some rest."

A slight draft brushed across the tip of your nose the second he closed the door, and you looked to the window to find a shadowy figure obscuring the moonlight that entered the room. It slowly approached the bed until it stood at your side.  The closer it got, the louder the voices became.  You winced when it leaned over you.

"You..."  Xiao's face occupied most of your vision.  He didn't need to know what happened to understand it was linked to his dealings with the possessed lawachurls a few hours ago.  "I felt your distress."

"What're you doing here?" You snapped quietly, the voices still raging a storm within your words.  It's not like you've communicated with him at all ever since you confessed your feelings.  He had no reason to be here...right?

"Do not fall prey to the darkness," he warned.  "I cannot save you if you allow yourself to be overrun."  He hesitantly placed a hand against your forehead in an attempt to gage your wellbeing.  He didn't have the powers of Zhongli, so there was no point in trying, but he did it anyway.  Your glowing eyes seemed to capture his, and the two of you stared at one another for a few moments.

Another laugh left your lips, and it was nothing short of disturbing unlike the airy carefree ones Xiao had heard you release before.  It was evil.  Mocking.  "I never called you here."

The yaksha let out something between a growl and a sigh.  "I have no choice but to kill you if you're consumed.  Do not let them overwhelm you," he repeated as he locked on your eyes.  While his words were sharp, the look in his eyes was nothing but endearing.  "I can always hear them, but you don't have to.  It's just a side effect; this too, shall pass."

"...It hurts."  Those two pained whimpers broke through the wall of hatred that surrounded you from within.  The glowing lights in your eyes flickered as you regained yourself in his presence.  

"I understand," he assured while his hand left your forehead to accompany your cheek, his thumb rubbing against your skin to wipe the tear that had fallen from your right eye.  He winced when he realized blood was mixed in with it, but didn't let on that he was taking a closer look at your eye.  Mortal bodies cannot withstand this...He bit the inside of his cheek as he thought of the worst-case scenario that had consumed his fellow yakshas long ago.  If we get them out of her now, she should still be able to fully recover.

He continued to stroke your cheek while you stared up at him, still unable to fully move your tired limbs that felt like they were severed at the ligaments.  Eventually you gathered enough strength to move your arm and place your hand over the one that cupped the side of your face.  You weren't sure of how much time had passed, but painful tears fell occasionally and were coupled with Xiao's brief looks of concern.

"I'm here," he soothed.  Archons, the way he handled you was so delicate.  Had he ever been this gentle with you, even when he caught you in your lowest moments?  If he had, the voices made it difficult to retrieve the memory.  They continued to scream and swirl within the depths of your mind, but the presence of the yaksha subdued them somewhat.

"I-I didn't...want to leave you..."  Your bloodied tears stained his hand and your pillow.  Xiao shifted on the bed upon hearing this and feeling your tears brim the corners of his eyes.  He continued to stroke your cheek.

"Do not speak; you're making your condition worse," he ordered.  "I can't hold your decision against you."

"But--"

"'What matters now isn't failures of the past; we are here together.'  Are those not your words?"  His head tilted slightly, and a fond smile formed across his lips.  "Rest.  I will be here until morning."

"Don't...leave..." You begged, gripping his hand a little tighter.  "Please."

Xiao watched the glow in your eyes eventually flicker out right before you fell asleep.  He took it upon himself to wipe the bloody streaks from your cheeks, and even let you continue to hold his hand while you slept.  He stayed true to his word and sat beside you until the first light of dawn shone through your window, his hand never fully leaving your skin until he had to return to Liyue.

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

Coming up:  A harbinger’s gift: some much-needed therapy.  Tea time with an archon.  The moonsong.

#arent you glad i didnt leave you on a cliffhanger from the last chapter #i was feeling generous for lantern rite #season of giving #youre welcome #impromptu post #genshin impact #xiao x reader #genshin impact xiao #genshin x reader #fanfiction #xiao fanfiction #xiao genshin impact #xiao moment

[binniedeactivated]

𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐟!𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐧. || 🌪💦 (1.4)

[ m.list ]

➦ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 | 𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐟!𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐧 𝐱 𝐏𝐎𝐂 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥

➦ 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 | 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐮

➦ 𝐖/𝐂 | 3k

➦ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒  | 𝐈𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫,  𝐚𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭'𝐬  𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.

➦ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 + 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭

POC = person of color

adriana did it often. whenever she had some time for herself in the midst of her hectic school days she would make it her duty to get to the bathroom just so she can fix her makeup. she didn’t wear makeup because she thought it made her beautiful but it covered up the scars her ex made on her skin. she refused for anyone else to see them or even get a slight glimpse of them. she wanted to leave all that in the past. she didn’t want to have to explain her bruises to anyone.

often times he would try to come back. trying to love her the ‘right’ way this time, or trying to swoon her into thinking that he was finally going to be the man she always wanted. only to be the man she always hated yet again. she didn’t want to be in this situation. she was twenty six she wanted a life, she wanted love and she wanted a family. she loved the kids she taught like they were her own of course but she couldn’t wait for the day she would finally be called mommy.

she was starting to like yeonjun. not just for the sex--although that was pretty good too. but she saw him every morning and every afternoon dropping off and picking up his children, hugging them, kissing them, holding them near him at all times. even if he forgot something he would drop it off in the middle of his day or even if the slightest inconvenience happened to them he would drop everything at the drop of a dime. he had even been invested in their school work, their grades and progress, more than adriana has ever seen any dad concerned about their child. she found that she wasn’t just attracted to the sex, but she was attracted to love he had for his kids.

“ms. A! ms.A!”. myla called frantically from her chair while sipping on her juice box. it happened to be lunch time and the children were sitting at their tables happily chatting away while making messes of their faces. adriana touches her back softly,

“yes myla?”.

she points to the bright pink sticky note inside her lunch box. “what does that say?”.

adriana crouches down to her level to get a better look. she clutches the sticky note and reads it loud enough for myla to hear.

“enjoy your lunch myla. have a great day! daddy loves you ♡ “

adriana smiles a bit, “your dad left you a note today. do you want to maybe keep it and put it in your pocket?”.

myla nods excitedly, opening in her pocket for adriana to just shove it in there. she folds it neatly though and places it that way instead. she stands to her feet shortly after.

“ten more minutes left of lunch time guys, make sure you’re eating”. she announces prior to returning to her desk to finish organizing worksheets.

“your dad packs you lunch?”. andrew, one of the children at the table had asked. myla nods while happily biting into an apple slice.

“that’s so weird. packing lunch is for mommies. My mommy packs my lunch”.

“me too!”.

“ou me three!”.

“‘me four!”.

the other children decided to chime in. their small voices were drowned out by the indistinct chatter around the room. myla slouched her shoulders in shame. she hadn’t thought it was weird for her dad to pack her lunch all this time.

“well my daddy likes to pack my lunch”. she decided to say, although not knowing if she was trying convince them or herself.

“your daddy is weird”. Paige says, chewing into her peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

“he’s not weird don’t talk about my daddy”.

“yes he is. packing lunch is for mommies”. Andrew adds again, licking the oreo icing off the cookie.

myla clenches her small fists growing a little angry at the obnoxious boy. “shut up. daddies can do it too”.

“no they can’t! unless your daddy is a girl. is your daddy a girl?”. he teases, leaving the rest of her lunch table flooding in laughter. myla felt ashamed at each and every kid who laughed at her and made fun of her father. she could feel her cheeks heat and salty tears well in her eyes. she clutched her juice box angrily and threw it at andrew’s face.

“Ow!!”.

“don’t talk about him ever!”.

he rubs his face and sticks out his tongue. “that’s why he’s still a girl!”

“myla! andrew? what is going on?”. adriana rises from her chair behind her desk, only for myla to run straight out of the classroom in full fledge tears.

“you know, you’re really pretty”. daniel complimented his girlfriend Luna. and that she was. she had this pretty black hair that spiraled down her back with bangs along her forehead. she wore these vibrant pastel colored dresses everyday. most importantly though she was sweet to Daniel. and that was something he came to love.

she smiles behind her book at him. It was reading time. yet the duo decided to use the time to whisper to one another instead of reading those boring books that their teacher handed them. “thank you. I showed my mom a picture of you yesterday. she said you’re a cute boy”. daniel chuckles a little. “well tell her I said thank you. It’s been a while since someone has called me that. other than you”.

she strings a piece of hair behind her ear in wonder. “really? my mom always calls me cute. doesn’t yours?”. daniel bites the inside of his cheek in thought. he couldn’t remember the last time his mother even saw him long enough to compliment him. but he wasn’t going to admit that to Luna. he moves his head in uncertainty. “sometimes I guess,”. He lied. “not as much as yours probably though”.

she lays a hand on his shoulder. “well you’re a cute boy daniel”. and that kind of made his heart warm. when Luna reminded daniel of his mother’s shortcomings it was all he could really think about throughout the day. there were a lot of things that he could say his mother hadn’t done for him. for example, most of his friends often bring leftover dinner that their mom cooked to eat at school the next day. or they would talk about the complications of their mom doing their laundry, being too overprotective, nursing them to health when they were sick.

Leah hadn’t done these things since daniel was younger. he only held a faint memory of her making this extravagant dinner one day for his dad’s birthday one year, but that was about it. it never necessarily bothered him because his dad was always there. his dad did his laundry, his dad cooked dinner, his dad was overprotective and his dad took care of him when he sick.

and this was the way it always have been in daniel’s mind. Luna kisses him on the cheek at dismissal before grabbing her jacket and running to her mother’s side. daniel drums his fingers on the table while glimpsing at the both of them. the way she hugged Luna and kissed her forehead, helping her get her jacket on. he could tell she did everything in love, too. daniel wondered if that was why luna was so sweet and kind. he wondered if maybe that’s why he liked her so much.

she had the aura of a mom.

yeonjun approaches the classroom door and myla immediately ran to his legs with a sour expression, to which he he picked her up and allows her head to fall into the crook of his neck. “whats the matter my?”. he whispers, signing his name on the sign out sheet. Adriana advances her way over to them both.

“hey yeonjun. a situation happened with myla and another student today, he was teasing her and she threw her juice box at him. I let myla off with a warning since I don’t tolerate throwing things in my classroom, however since the student was teasing her about personal issues he’s receiving a greater punishment”.

yeonjun nods. “make sure you call me about these types of things alright?”.

adriana’s heart sank. he looked kind of angry but she couldn’t really tell. “will do”. she breathed. damn it. calling him was the one thing she forgot to do.

daniel was glad to leave his classroom when his father arrived. he was already at the door in fact. yeonjun ruffles his hair and pulls him close. After he signed him out though, it was unusual having two silent kids walking with him to the car.

he adjusts the rearview mirror. “myla? what happened at school today?”. she shook her head with a pout at her lips. he knew he was probably going to have to try again when she felt better. it still didn’t stop him from feeling bad though. he nudged daniel next, who was currently staring out the window in the passenger seat.

“what happened with you today?”.

he too gave him a stand-offish response and shrugs his shoulders. he wished he hadn’t let his thoughts get the best of him. he wished it didn’t bother him as much as it did. if only him or myla knew how much their silence and emotions really broke their father’s heart. he’d much rather have them arguing. he decided to reroute himself, choosing to go to one of their favorite destinations.

arriving at pizza planet was one of the best things yeonjun could’ve done. upon arrival myla and daniel could already feel today’s weight lift off their shoulders a little especially with the loud music and obnoxious arcade games blaring at them when they stepped in.

“order whatever you want”. yeonjun says, approaching the food counter with both of them on either side of him. myla clutches his hand, “really? anything?”. yeonjun nods. “yeah anything”. and once the answer was confirmed it took no time for the duo to put in their freakishly odd orders. myla mainly ordered a bunch of desserts that yeonjun knew she didn’t need and Daniel ordered a shitload of pizza. Combined with yeonjun’s order it totaled to quite a dime, but yeonjun didn’t mind at all.

“daddy can we play the games please please please?”.

“yeah can we play the games?”.

“yeah hold on”, yeonjun pauses before pooling out two five dollar bills from his wallet for the both of them. to which they took the money and immediately ran off excitedly to the token exchange machine. Yeonjun laughs in their trail, “wow! no thank you?”.

“thank you daddy!”. they said in unison, rushing to stuff the coins in their pockets.

yeonjun sat at the booth seat and awaited the food although it took a while. the waitress placed everything down neatly around the table.

“so? do you have a girlfriend?”. she asks completely catching yeonjun off guard. she couldn’t look more than seventeen years old.

“married. plus I think you’re a little too young sweetheart”.

she tilts her head a little and smiles with her eyes still focused on getting the drinks on the table. “I’m legal though”.

“no thank you sweetheart”.

in a way it kind of scared him. she was legal sure, but a young adult willing to date a married man with children? it made yeonjun question her morals. especially when she gifted him a small wink before telling him to enjoy his meal.

yeonjun shakes his head in disbelief before calling his kids over to the table. there wasn’t a better feeling to him than seeing them happily munching on their food with attitudes that starkly contrasted the ones they had in the car. he took and napkin and curled it around his finger before wiping the smudged off of myla’s cheeks.

“dad! I finally beat myla in Mario kart”.

“no you didn’t daniel! you’re a cheater”.

“no I won. you just don’t want to admit you lost”.

“I didn’t!”.

“yes you did”.

“don’t worry myla. I’ll teach you how to beat him next time”. yeonjun adds.

“really? do you know how to play?”.

“pft. I’ve been playing Mario kart before you both were even born”.

“that would be cheating! you can’t help her dad that’s not fair”.

myla rolls her eyes choosing to change the subject. “what was I like daddy? when I was born?”.

“very quiet. and sleepy”.

“I didn’t smile or anything?”.

“well when you were a newborn you were kind of mean. you didn’t want anyone to hold you except me”.

myla laughs. “really?”.

“yeah. you were so mean to your mom oh my gosh. you didn’t want to drink milk from the bottle even if she was holding it”.

“was I ever nice?”.

“hm. you were nice when you were just a few months old but only a little bit. you were really calm and relaxed though. you just wanted to play and sleep”.

“what about me?”. daniel asks next.

“oh god, daniel. you were a crybaby”.

myla laughs pointing her finger in his face. “Ha!”.

daniel ignores her though and continues. “what did I cry about?”.

“everything. when you were happy, when you were sad, when you were mad, when you had to sit, when we tried to get you to play, while you were eating. you just cried all the time. we were starting to think you just hated us”.

daniel laughs to himself a bit. “was I good looking?”.

“of course. you and myla were really chubby so it made you even more adorable. you guys always got lots of compliments”.

“more than logan?”.

“No one gets more compliments than logan. not even me”.

daniel decided to playfully tease. “whatever dad we know Logan is your favorite”,

yeonjun laughs. “no he’s not don’t say that. I have no favorites”.

myla sneaks her arms around him. “I’m your favorite right daddy?”.

“why would you be the favorite? you’re annoying”. daniel teases again.

“guys. I have no favorites. you all are my favorites. alright?”.

the both of them scoff wanting him to admit who his favorite was. but they decided they wouldn’t pressure him today since the arcade games were still waiting on them.

***

and being home was like it was every night. yeonjun took care of the household and made sure things were getting done at a reasonable time. but there was always one chore that yeonjun never failed to nag his children about.

“daniel clean your room. what’s that pile of clothes on the floor?”. he points with logan wide awake and clinging to his chest. he stuffs a hand in his mouth and gurgles.

with the gaming headset on daniel didn’t realize how loud his voice actually was. but he was playing over-watch and he failed to lose this mission.

“one more minute dad”.

“do it now. I’m starting laundry soon and I need to know what’s dirty”.

the boy huffs and assures his teammates his return. although his father was being a nag he didn’t hesitate to think the same thoughts he had gotten in school. he was afraid to talk to yeonjun about them. he didn’t want to stress him out more than usual. above all else daniel noticed his mother’s absence during moments such as this and that made him even more grateful for his father.

“thank you. I’m coming back to check”.

daniel wondered if it would be odd to tell him that he loved him at that moment. so he just kept his mouth shut.

you’re annoying but I love you dad, he wanted to say.

thank you for loving me the way that mom doesn’t, he wanted to say.

“myla put your toys in your toy chest. is your laundry basket full?”.

she replies with her eyes still focused on playing with her dolls in her dollhouse. “okay. yes I think”.

yeonjun lugs the basket with him to the door. but myla had a question in mind.

“daddy?”.

“yes?”.

“is packing lunch for mommies?”.

“hm? what do you mean?”.

“the boy at school today said that his mommy packs his lunch. and all the other kids said that their mommies pack their lunch too. what’s wrong if you pack mine?”.

yeonjun’s heart sank. this was the one thing he didn’t want for them.

“there’s nothing wrong me packing it myla. don’t let those kids tell you any different”.

“how come mommy doesn’t do it?”.

“she’s just— she’s just busy. but daddies pack lunch all the time”.

“they do?”.

“yeah. don’t feel bad alright? I do it because I love you and I want to make sure you eat well even while you’re in school. It’s just another form of me showing you how much I love you”.

myla rushes over to hug his legs. it relieved her that he said that. she was starting to think she was just an outcast.

“I love you too”. she whispers.

yeonjun smiles a little and kisses her on her forehead. “I love you more. now go play so I can make sure your brother cleaned his room”.

doing loads of laundry were that bad considering yeonjun always made sure he stayed on top of it all. his kids never had too much dirty clothes so it never took long. “are you ready to do laundry with me logan?”. yeonjun coos to the small baby before opening the washing machine. he turns it on, allowing the water to flood the bottom but something black caught his eye. It happened to be floating in the water.

he reaches his hand down and pulls it out trying to figure out what it was. but once he brought it up for his eyes to see in the light he wasn’t too pleased. it was an opened condom wrapper.

and yeonjun knew it wasn’t his.

#yeonjun #yeonjun smut #choi yeonjun #yeonjun fanfic #choi yeonjun smut #single father au #smut au

[bluelancelion]

Here's some characters info about the Pirate/Assassin/Princess AU klance-Voltron fanfic that I'm writing!

(Lance is a pirate and Captain of a ship, Keith is an assassin with a mission and Allura is a runaway princess. They all end up in Lance's ship for a long, disastrous journey. What could possibly go wrong?)

CHARACTERS:

Lance

- Pirate

- Captain (we believe in Lance's leadership)

- homesick boy

- free spirit

- loverboy with a broken heart

- found family in the sea

- protective

- funny

- obnoxious

- touchy

- carefree

- kind

- stubborn

- very competitive

- looks ultra confident, he's actually insecure (his friends know it and they're here to support him)

Hunk

- A GOOD BOY

- Actually a fucking human tank

- He's like??? Insanely strong???

- Worked all his life with his family, decided to take his life in his hands and parted ways

- Knows Lance from childhood, he decided to go with him

- OR he didn't know him at first and he stumbled across him and became best friends ever since

- Best Cook ever

- Worst Pirate ever

- He got used to it though

- GOOD at shooting with cannons

- Actually the Fucking BEST

- Still gets scared about everything else and can you really blame him?

- Can and will repair every single piece of the ship

- Gifted boy with lots of pressure on him, but now he can live freely and do whatever he wants

- the mom friend half of the time

- shares his last two braincells with Pidge and Lance the other half

Pidge

- a fucking savage

- Looks like a cinnamon roll, could actually kill you

- Too fed up with the good girl stays at home sewing socks for nasty babies bullshit

- So she took her tools and left

- Stumbled across Hunk and Lance and found the family she never though she needed

- At some point they collect the other Holt too

- Can do phenomenal tricks with weapons

- Like, she can build from scratch cool things or modify already existent guns and swords and SHE LIKES TO BUILD BOMBS out of FUCKING NOWHERE???

- Blind like a mole

- her only weakness is her sight. No glasses? Sayonara.

- Which is funny because she's the look-out/sentry of the ship

Keith

- Social Anxiety

- Kills people off as a job but turns out to be a soft bean???

- Yeah Lance still has a hard time believing that

- fucking competitive

- loves knives more than people

- Actually love deprived

- "I push them away before they reject me"

- doesn't have a hair/skincare routine but still looks flawless and pretty

- perfect sight 100% perfect muscles super agile like a feline but WILL Stumble down a staircase if looking directly at a cute boy's ass eyes

- Cool in the streets, awkward in the sheets

- But that's cool cause Lance loves everything about him anyway

- Nah he's probably fine in bed, he's just so awkward in the courtship part?

- Which explains why he never had a stable relationship

- other than the fact that he slices people's throats off

- loves his brother

- a free spirit who's long been refrained by his own living style

- things that will change thanks to some cuban boy

- now he slices off people's throats IN THE SEA :D

- really fucking gay

- emo edge lord

Shiro

- Let the man rest in peace

- Wanted to have a normal life, work, get married, make a family and such

- Ends up armless in the middle of the fucking ocean adopting three underage pirates and one depressed boy under the jurisdiction of a runaway royalty.

- Honestly just let him die

- Decided to take a nap, got kidnapped instead

- Decided to get a vacation, got chased by bloody murderers instead

- Just wanted to chill from the start but I guess that's not gonna happen lol

- Actually pretty funny

- Bad dad jokes

- "Oh well since we're already at this point of the situation, might as well roll with it"

- His patience is a mask, he keeps going on by sipping tequila when nobody watches

- Can be awkward. Like, a parent level awkward

- the dad friend half feeling responsible about everything half not giving a shit anymore at some point

- tiddies

Allura

- a fucking badass

- "I can like cute things and can also kick you ass"

- feels bad about 80% of the time but the squad makes her feel worse

- just kidding they actually make her feel inlcuded

- which means they don't care about what she does or doesn't do

- which is new for her cause being a princess means being perfect and have etiquette and such

- but there she can be herself without standing up to any expectations

- so at some point she just lets go and starts living the way she wants

- old like Shiro but childish like Lance

- she and Shiro could be great leaders but here it's Lance supremacy, let the seniors be still and chill

- Even though she's free now, it's a good thing that Lance cares about beauty. They become skin product buddies

- Allura learns the way of a true living and becomes aware of how people live outside the castle (not that she never went out but those occasions became more rare as the enemy slowly rised, that's why Alfor took precautions.)

- (THIS FIC BASICALLY IS ABOUT HOW EVERYONE FOUND FREEDOM THANKS TO LANCE AND HOW ONE OF THEM GIVES HIM HIS HEART)

- God is a woman and her name is Allura

Coran

- the most gorgeous man you'll ever see

- The doctor of the crew!

- Very interested in science and medicine

- Can fix you up in no time, make awful jokes (very appreciated) and can make lotion to make moustaches grow faster

- Professional adviser in the castle becomes a very enthusiast pirate in 0.67 seconds because he's adventurous and lively and honestly everyone needs a Coran in their life

- "Coran, how can you get used to this life this quickly? It took me months to get used to it"

- "Well, you see Princess, it's all about the TONE of the speech and the GESTURE. If you want to be a pirate, you have to act like one" *puts on pirate blindfold and starts making weird noises to assert dominance*

- He's the man with a parrot on his shoulder

- generally enthusiast about everything

- just really loves learning things

- At some point becomes a drug dealer for a short time

- looks like he adopted everyone, is actually still aware of them

- it takes some time but he ends up adopting everyone

- other pirates make him compliments about his mustache

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

I'm being possessed by the inspirational demon and now I can't stop writing. Should I post the fic somewhere once I finish it?

Let me know in the comments :3

#I'm having so much fun writing these #Inspiration possessed me and now I've been writing for three days straight non stop #Voltron #Klance #Kick #Klance is canon king #Lance McClain #Keith kogane #Pirate lance #Assassin Keith #Pirate au #Assassin au #Allura #Shiro #Hunk #Pidge #Ao3 #Fanfic #Prompt #Found family #Vld #Coran #Adashi

[1dclicheficfest]

The time has come, my dears! We’ve compiled, organized and sorted your submissions and we’re ready to share them! We’ve had so much fun reading your clichés and we hope it’ll give you a good laugh.

Important disclaimer because it has to be said: we do not endorse any of the clichés submitted and these are not meant to spark Discourse™ . This is all in good fun, to spark your imagination and perhaps inspire some prompts!

Before we get to the fun part, don’t forget that prompt submissions open on February 1st and will run until March 28th. The full schedule can be found here.

And now, without further ado, here are your brilliant clichés.

HARRY

Green eyes

Huge eyes

Dimples

Always smirking

“The flirt”

Jobs: Works in a flower shop/Used to be a baker/Frat boy/LA socialite/Mermaid

“Quirky”

Clumsy/balance issues

Health nut/Workout junkie/Eats a lot of avocado and kale/loves yoga/gross green health smoothies

Very slow speech

Paints his nails

Beautiful long luscious curly hair

Long legs/large hands

Tall/large/big

Nudity/loves walking around starkers

Obsessed with being pregnant/babies

Kind to everyone

Bites his lip a lot

Tells terrible jokes/loves puns

Naive and oblivious

Clothing: Pearl necklace, Chelsea boots/gold boots/boots in general/Gucci everything/Flared, high-waisted trousers/’red and black sheer floral shirt with black skinny jeans’

Always unbuttons his shirt to show off tattoos

Baby seal laugh

Bad at driving

Hipster/takes artsy photos

Acting out for attention/Petty jealousy for no reason or because of a misunderstanding or when anyone comes near Louis

Bad dancer that gives it his all/makes awkward shapes with his limbs when trying to dance

Cat mom/Wine aunt

Resting bitch face

Rides a motorcycle

LIAM

Little clueless

Insecure

Louis is constantly messing with him

Roommates with Louis

Puppy/a lost puppy/puppy in human form/puppy eyes/puppy who doesn’t know how hot and strong he is/loves puppies

Manly muscle man/buff af/loves working out/sweet himbo beefcake

Bullied in the past

Giant heart/incredibly kind/soft/super loyal

Worry-wart/mother hen of the band/gets nervous when things don’t go to plan

Voice of reason/the responsible one/Daddy Direction/level-headed/most serious of the five/keeps the others grounded

Doesn’t know how to let loose and have fun

Lacking in experience/innocent about sex things

Oblivious to his feelings/other people’s feelings for him

Jobs: Firefighter/boxer/athlete

Super soft for Zayn

Protective

“Wants to cry as soon as Louis opens his mouth and doesn’t know if it’s because he’s scared, because it’s too funny, or because he just can’t handle any of it.”

Fear of spoons

Timid/

“being very shy/awkward in the beginning and then getting more confident because of Louis”

Snake habitat turn around!

Can’t spell

His turtle losing a foot

“Smelly pasta house”

Loves batman

Being alpha in ABOs

Unruly curly hair then trimmed to a crisp buzz

LOUIS

Blue eyes: ocean blue/blue as the sky on a sunny winter day/twinkle eyes

Arse and/or tummy as a defining feature

Sassy/sass master/feisty/snarky/cheeky/witty/playful/funny/sarcastic/joker

Flamboyant

Heart of gold/”Louis IS the sun”

“Does not suffer fools gladly (that’s your job you fooking loosah)”/hot-headed to pick fights only in defense of those he loves

Protective/Mama bear/loyal/Daddy of the group

Small/Dainty stature emphasized

Runs fingers through his fringe/hair always styled

Jobs: Footie player, teacher, drama teacher, actor, plays in a band

Loves music and writes songs

Plays footie (even if it’s not his job)

LOUD

Can’t cook/chicken wrapped in parma/”Can’t cook to save his life and if he does the kitchen ends up in flames”

Soft with Harry

School: Studying drama, being the bad boy, pop!punk Louis

Bratty/petty/snappy

Smoking

Zayn’s partner in crime

Rooms with Liam

Calls everyone ‘love’/uses too many terms of endearment

Yorkshire accent emphasized/always talks about Doncaster

Clothing: Vans or Adidas shoes/Toms/trackies/braces/red jeans/dressing in comfortable clothes only/no socks/scarf

Very good with kids/loves kids/family-oriented/looking after siblings/having a huge family

Eats junk food only

“The gay who cannot drive”

NIALL

Drinks a lot/Drinks everyone under the table because he’s Irish/Guinness lover/fun drunk/Will sing Gaelic folk songs when drunk/big social drinker-always making friends via alcohol/will kiss anyone when drunk

Food: Eats all the food/doesn’t season his food/loves Nando’s/”100% will take the last slice of pizza and not feel bad about it”/can and will eat you out of house and home/actually eats and cooks healthy but everyone thinks the opposite

Irish/Irish and proud/Wey Hey lads!/leprechaun Niall

Carefree/nothing bothers him

Romantic: falls fast and hard

Captain Niall!/Captain of the ship(s)

Music: guitar always present/Goes into the zone when he has an instrument in his hands - nothing will distract or get through to him/The Eagles fanboy/Damien Rice fanboy

Funny/always laughing/joking around/head back cackle of a laugh

Single/hooks up with a ton of people but no serious relationships/sleeps around/Serial Ladies man/Friends with benefits with multiple people at once/

Turns up the charm 100% and never half-asses it/”Scrunches his hair in thought and knows he looks cute doing so (like girls that purposefully bite their lip)”

Friends with literally everyone/has a thousand surface-level friends that think they’re close to him but keeps all at arm’s length/the greatest friend but also pickiest about who he becomes friends with

Clothing: Constantly shirtless/shorts over trousers/flip-flops as house shoes/gold chain/coin necklace/hoop earring/”golf dad that tucks in his shirts and unironically wears polos”

Obsessed with golf and football/practices his putt in the hallway with an empty loo roll

A bro

Secretly insightful/Tactless but gives essential advice as a result

Secretive/keeps his shit quiet/Definitely the guy with the most secrets

The blond one

Hairy chest

Worst poker face

Finger guns/peace signs

Blushes when he’s excited

Adores Shawn and Lewis

Cares a lot about what others think

Says no judgment but really judges a lot/judges you based on music taste

Rings in at 0 on the gaydar but could surprise you/the only het one

Tries to avoid conflict by remaining ‘on the fence’ and not picking a side

Always the roommate

Face mask selfies

Emotions rotate between sad, sexy, and fun - combination vary

Never a villain

Close with Harry

“Violent masturbating in the next room”

Constant pet names for everyone/”Even has pet names for his devices (like his vacuum robot”

ZAYN

Super smart/nerd/wise/The Ravenclaw

Smokes a lot

Secretly very soft/gentle/biggest heart/”His confidence and aloofness hide a sensitive heart of gold”/Bad boy secretly soft

Heart-eyes at Liam/Soft with Liam/”Lee-yum”

Mysterious eyes

Best friends with Louis

Jobs: Artist, tattoo artist, English teacher who loves art, works in comic book store,

Shy/withdrawn/mysterious/brooding best friend/quiet/”Seems intimidating until you realize he’s just shy”/bad boy outside, soft boy inside/”not as cool as he seems but way sweeter”

The artistic one/tortured artist/art student/skater/also does graffiti/spray-paint

Marvel fan/comic book fan/superhero fan

Clothing: Wears his clothes like armor/leather jacket/”He’s the only one with good taste and he knows it”

Most ‘devil may care’ about his sexuality

Family-oriented/family man

Involved with his religion

Model figure/carved by gods/vain but not obnoxious about it

Catchprase is ‘sick’

Needs time alone to recharge

Changes his hair a lot/that one strand of hair that falls over his eyes

Thinks Malibu is called Malabami

“Eats candy underwear off of Harry’s crotch”

#1dclicheficfest #cliche results #resources #masterpost #character cliches

[miyalove]

hi!!! i saw your requests are open :) can you write about tsukishima going on a date with the reader and splitting a strawberry shortcake with them? just overall fluff and cuteness and teasing too!! thanks dylan :)

—pairing: tsukishima x gn!reader

—warnings: swearing, name-calling, fluffy fluff!!, unedited*

—synopsis: 1.7k | a simple “hang out” leads to tsukishima defining the relationship... kinda

—a/n: you didn’t specify if you wanted headcanons or a scenario, so i’m gonna go with the latter! thank you for requesting, lara! trully you’re amazing 💞✨ + requests are open! 

“so what exactly is happening, right now?” you’re eyeing the taller boy beside you. a brow quirked up in question and you can’t help but study his face. he doesn’t respond much to your words. it’s only when you tug on your side of the earbud the two of you are sharing when he finally notices you’ve stopped writing notes down.

“are you really that dense?” he cocks his head down, his infamous smirk lays on his lips and you can’t help the butterflies that erupt in your chest. you don’t say anything in return though, waiting for him to finish his thoughts.

sighing, he pushes his glasses up causing a sudden gleam to appear, “we’re studying, idiot,” he’s not looking your way anymore, “we’ve been studying for an hour by now.”

he spoke as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. and perhaps it was, however that wasn’t what you meant. shrugging, you turn your attention to out the window. it is because of your silence that tsukishima knows there’s something wrong.

but he goes back to his notes because he knows that you have known him long enough that, if you ever wanted to talk about something serious he’s all ears. you didn’t need him to reassure you that he’s there for you because at this point you should know. 

he knows you’ll let it out eventually, but for know, he’ll wait until you’re ready. from his peripherals, he sees you ease back into your notes. grabbing at your lost pen that rolled across the table and opening up your textbooks. 

shifting in his seat, the two of you are engulfed in a comfortable silence. only being broken when he wants to compare answers or when you want him to skip the song. another few hours pass, when the two of you decide a break is very much needed. 

your back feels stiff and despite resting your head on tsukishima’s shoulder, you’re still feeling a bit unease at the sudden thought you had before. what exactly is happening right now, plays in your head like a broken record. 

because to say the truth, you didn’t know. the two of you are hanging out, right? two friends just sharing notes and going over answers to their latest assignment.

then why do you have the urge to hold his slender hand in yours whenever he points out an important tidbit of information in the textbook. 

if you’re just two friends hanging out then why does he suddenly lean closer to you when you talk? like he’s enchanted with every word you say. golden eyes beaming in something you know is more than just a friend feeling.

your thoughts are running wild, tsukishima being the main reason why despite having a huge exam in the upcoming week. without any thinking, your mouth is running, “kei, what is happening, right now?”

you don’t dare make eye contact. you know that if you do, your inquires will die on your tongue when your eyes meet his shining ones. 

“did you hit your head? you asked me that hours ago, (y/n),” you can hear the concern wavering in his voice. even if his tone sounded obnoxious, behind that you know tsukishima kei cared for you.

why else would he want to “hang out” so often? why else would he linger his hand on your thigh when no one was looking? why else would he—

“alright, spit it out already,” you’re broken out of your thoughts at his words. when you finally look up at him, your eyes are wide and filled with panic. there’s a slight blush on your cheeks and tsukishima can’t help but to chuckle at your expression.

cute, he thinks.

despite his soft spot for you, his words remain teasing, “hurry it up, shortie. i’m thinking of ordering something and i don’t want to eat when you’re off brooding in the corner. it’s disturbing.” 

at this point, he’s reading you like a book which isn’t a surprise, you’ve known that he’s quite the observant type ever since that one time you’re shitty ex broke your heart and he miraculously knew that your favorite comfort food was ice cream.

tsukishima knows everything there is to know about you, even if he won’t admit it but, here you were wishing the same thing for you. with that thought in mind, you let out a shaky sigh, catching the blonde’s attention instantly.

“are we really just ‘hanging out’, kei... i’m asking what’s happening here between the two of us.”

you’re expecting a blunt answer because that’s exactly what tsukishima is; blunt. what you don’t expect is to hear him cackle right in front of you. he’s clutching his stomach, hand covering his mouth as he tries his very best to suppress his laughter and failing miserably.

his brows are furrowed, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose and even despite him making fun of you, you can’t help but reach out and gently slide it back into place. you can feel the heat spreading all over your face as you lean into his figure. 

his laughter is suddenly dying down, golden eyes connect with yours. there’s a stillness between the two of you that you’re not willing to break. you’re scared he’s just gonna laugh in your face again if you say another word. stupid boy, your mind mocks.

unconsciously he leans into your touch and your hand slides down from his temple to hold his cheek in yours. there’s a soft smile playing at his lips and you stare praying that the image of a smiling tsukishima stays etched into your thoughts.

“that’s what all that fuss was about? what you don’t like hanging out with me?” you can’t even focus on your words because suddenly your hand is on fire with the way he slowly moves to rest his hand on top of yours. his voice dies down with the sudden tenderness that’s being displayed between the two of you.

this is a game to him. that’s evident from the lasting smug grin he’s still wearing. finally getting some sense back into you, you decide two can play this game.

“what if i say no?” 

his eyes narrow at your words. there you were again, the confident teasing person that he’s liked for a while now. he hates when you get all quiet and moody. the only way he knows how to snap you back into reality was, no shocker there, teasing you until you let it all out. 

“then i guess we just have to stop hanging out then. that’s too bad,” he feigns a pout. you can’t help but roll your eyes at his mock sadness. wanting to snap back at him, you point an accusing finger in his way.

with sharp words on the tip of your tongue, you’re caught off guard when a third party joins on to your banter, “here’s your shortcake, sir!” staring at the women standing before you, she smiles. 

“thanks,” and with that she give kei a small bow before backing away. 

immediately, tsukishima is digging into the sweet treat. picking at the whipped cream and catching a strawberry slice in his fork, he guides it to his mouth. you can’t help but eye the savory slice of cake right in front of you. the threat you were about to cry out is suddenly forgotten.

“you look awfully hungry over there, (y/n),” he slices into the cake, frosting sipping down on the plate before bitting down on the fork once more. 

your eyes never leave the treat, “when did you order that?”

“when you were being all weird about us ‘hanging out’,” he picks off another piece, and your mouth is practically watering at how delicious the fluffy cake looks. 

“tell me you like hanging out with me and maybe i’ll consider giving you some. sound like a deal, shortie?” 

there are two outcomes; the first one being that you do admit that you like hanging out with him and he ends up being true to his words or he just wants you to fuel his ego. as you think the options through, the blonde doesn’t let up on his chomping besides you.

with each bite, the tasty treat gets smaller and smaller until—

“fine, i like hanging out with you. happy?” he chuckles, passing you a spare fork that he somehow just had. had he asked the waitress for another while you weren’t paying attention again?

“extremely, actually.” 

the two of you pick at the mouthwatering cake until eventually there is but one bit left. there’s a sudden tension as the two of you both notice the situation you’re in. one bite left... however two mouths crave the sweet sensation of the airy treat on their tongue.

without hesitation, you’re both diving in fork first. a battle the two of you often have is who gets the last bite especially when it comes to shortcakes as you both share a common love for the creamy dessert.

you’re competitive side pops out when you end up stabbing the whipped covered treat on your metal prongs. you cheer, waving your fork in the air making sure to rub your victory right in the blonde’s cute, stupid face. 

“yanno, i’m kind of peeved you agreed this was just a ‘hang out’. i like the sound of date better,” one word, four letters and suddenly you’ve forgotten all about your boisterous cheering. 

you feel stunted. unable to move because did tsukishima just admit to liking you? the tsukishima kei? the same guy that randomly decides to have you “fend for yourself” at parties because he just wants to leave? that tsukishima? 

snapping your head at his taller figure. that familiar heat is on your face again and you just know, you look like a cherried fool.

taking advantage of your stiffness, tsukishima dives head first for your fork that lies limp in the air. swiftly chomping on the last bit of shortcake, he doesn’t bother checking up on you as he enjoys the delight. 

it takes you exactly two seconds to realize what just happened. it takes you three to actually say something.

“goddamn it, tsukishima kei. i absolutely despise you.” you scowl at his victorious grin. not knowing weather you want to wipe that smug little smile off with your fist or lips. 

“then why do you want this to be a date so bad if you do, hhm?”

“i— shut up, tsukki!”

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #hq x reader #hq #tsukishima #tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #hinata shoyo #hinata x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #kageyama tobio #kageyama x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu!! scenarios #hq scenarios #haikyuu headcanons #hq headcanons #haikyuu!! headcanons #hq imagines #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!! imagines #yamaguchi tadashi #yamaguchi x reader

[theoutsidelandhere]

Of Flour and All Things Unseen - Baker!Din AU

warnings: some angst (mentions of parental death)

pairings: none! Just Din Djarin and his journey into becoming a baker. 

Summary: A short history of how a family business comes back to life when the mystery baker becomes the new owner. 

Word Count: 1k (My brain went overboard lol this was only supposed to be a headcanon)

A/N: Hello everyone! I haven’t written anything like this in such a long time, but this little piece was inspired by @dindjarindiaries​ one-shot called Remedy, which I’ll link here (aka I’m always nervous to post what I write, but Baker!Din has been in my mind nonstop, so I ended up writing a little more than I usually do. I hope you enjoy! <3)

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

No one has ever seen the man responsible for the long lines that reach the other street every morning.

The only thing they know is that the pastries are the best in town, and the bread is baked fresh every day. It’s hard to miss the rushing businessmen with obnoxious briefcases pausing as they smell the waft of a new batch escaping from the front door. A tiny slice of goodness. That’s exactly what Din Djarin wanted to bring.

He’d stay hidden, way in the depths of the kitchen where he was safe. Here, no one would question why he chose to bake or how he inherited the family business. No, here he was able to remember his late mother as he perfected the art of a mango cake, her specialty. The bold color of the fruit always brought him back to the sunshine his parents would bring, every time they walked through their kitchen door. The space might have been too small for some, but for Din, his parents’ sweet humming as they took turns turning the oven dial and painting the whole room with flour was enough.

But reminiscing can only last so long, he tries to remind himself. Shaking off his thoughts, he goes back to his regular orders of bread. As he peeks through the bakery, he recalls the days when he didn’t know anything about crafting the perfect loaf.

He was ten when the Lyre family took him in. They taught him everything he needed to know about baking. With every fold of the dough, Din tried to bury the feeling of grief from losing the brightest light that ever shined in his life. While he was incredibly grateful for this family, a family that took him in, trusted him with secret family recipes, and provided a continuous promise of hope, nothing would ever erase the abundant love he had for his parents.

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

The bakery has been there for hundreds of years, and as the success grew, so did the tension in the Lyre family. There seemed to be a never ending fight for who would be next in line for ownership. What started as a humble beginning, was shaping up to be a vile demise. While the family feud erupted, the customers stopped coming back. Why should they? The Lyre’s seemed more focused on yelling at each other than the quality of what once was a town favorite. As such, the flavor and love soon evaporated from all the baked goods.

Yet it was Din’s quiet concentration and appreciation for the craft that landed him the coveted title of “Owner.” He wasn’t in the business to fight anyway. It was the first sale of his beloved mango cake that helped the bakery take off once again. This was not an easy decision to make. Din had kept this recipe deep in his heart for years. Retrieving it for all to consume was terrifying, a violation of privacy that felt uncalled for.

Then a child stepped through the bakery. He must not have been older than five. With heaving breaths, he said that a bad man had been trying to find him. Din stood frozen for a few seconds before beckoning the child to come with him to the kitchen. Stepping back out, he looked around to see if the “bad man” was anywhere close. Seeing no one, he rushes to the back where the child hid in the corner.

“What’s...your name?” He asks, unsure of how to approach the tiny human. Din was never around that many children, even when he himself was a child.

No response. A weary look from the child appeared as he tried to figure out if the man in front of him was trustworthy.

Din refused to push the child into answers, but wanted to make sure if he was alright.  

“Do you want something to eat?” A hesitant nod from the little boy comes. Din hands him one of the slices of bread that he finished baking an hour ago. A small sigh of relief comes from Din as the boy slowly starts to bite into the bread. This was the first time he thought of sharing his treasured mango cake with anyone else. He cherished every time he was able to bite into the mango cake his mother made. Life was never perfect, but the short moments where he could indulge in a sweet treat was when he felt comforted and loved.

From then on, Din internally vowed to not only protect this child, but also promised to create something good for others to have. The world wasn’t always kind, but the bakery could be a place of solace, even for a short while.

No one had ever tasted anything like it before. The mango cake soon brought many people to the bakery. This small bakery at the end of the street was now filled with chatter. Everything from small talk of weather, to the shared family experiences. By word of mouth, many began to learn of the bakery’s comeback. People filed out the door to get the feeling of home and to try their hand into figuring out who exactly was baking this cake. They would try to squint or peek their heads through the door leading to the kitchen, but he was never to be found.

Din made sure to keep himself to the side of the door, away from the strangers outside. While his heart was full from hearing the praises of his mother’s recipe, he knew that the family bakery had a reputation that was...rocky, but well known. The last thing he wanted was to be caught in the next day’s gossip, or for people to find out who he was to the Lyre family. Din believed that he had to let the pastries, the cake, and the bread speak to the customers, not him. There was a story in between every bite, and he would let the baked goods tell it.

Tags: @dinthisisthe-wayson​ @another-swgal​ @awheeler27​ @sana-katarn​

#din djarin #din djarin fic #din djarin au #baker!din #baker!din au #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fic #star wars #Star Wars fic #Star Wars au #din djarin imagine #the mandalorian imagine #Pedro Pascal #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fanfic #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian fanfiction #my writing #grogu #baby yoda #grogu djarin

[nanoland]

Title: Besyd the scarcety of bread amowngst us

Fandom: Supernatural 

Pairing: Crowley/Dean Winchester

Summary: In which Dean asks a question.

Warnings: Crowley being Extremely traumatized and kind of oblivious to that fact + SPN demons being SPN demons (i.e. remorseless bodysnatchers) + Dean being his casually misogynistic self + graphic descriptions of starvation + exhibitionism (sorta?) + sexually explicit content because this was MEANT to be straightforward smut and then Crowley happened, the prick.

Also on AO3!

0  

“So how come you aren’t a hot chick?”

The glass stills an inch from Crowley’s pale lips. “I humbly beg your pardon?”

It’s late. The bar’s quiet. He doesn’t need Dean to repeat himself. Just a moment to decide on a response.

Well on the way to utterly shit-faced, Dean gestures vaguely, meaninglessly. “You offer people stuff. Then, ten years later, you drag ‘em to Hell. And – and they know that’s what’s gonna happen if they make a deal with you. Which means that you gotta be real fuckin’ persuasive. Which you are. Grade A Bullshit Artist and don’t I know it. But... uh, what was I gonna… yeah, wouldn’t it be easier, right, just way easier if you were a hot chick?”

Crowley can tell he’s not done, so he keeps his silver tongue behind his faintly yellowed teeth for the moment.

While Dean is usually delightful company, in his surly, macho way, this evening there’s an uncommonly obnoxious edge to everything he says. That almost certainly means his insecurities over what he’s been letting Crowley do to his arse lately are acting up.

Understandable. Still annoying.

So Crowley’s more than willing to let his favourite human dig himself a wee bit deeper before pouring boiling tar into the pit.

After quickly throwing back the last of his drink, Dean goes on: “Now, I didn’t go to some dickslurp business school. I ain’t that brand of asshole. But I’ve seen enough beer ads in my time to have an idea of how marketing works. You got something you want people to buy? Fastest way is to get a hot chick in a bikini to hold it up. Because guys have most of the money in this shitty world of ours and guys think with their dicks. I know I do. So why did you decide to possess someone who looks like a balding, middle-aged banker going through a stressful divorce? That ain’t enticing. That ain’t capturing anyone’s interest. Y’know?”

“Mm,” says Crowley, and stands up.

“Fuck’re you doing?” Dean slurs, watching him take off his tie.

“Ever heard of the Seven Ill Years, Squirrel?”

“Nope. Seriously, what’re you doing?”

Draping his overcoat over the back of his chair along with his tie, Crowley sets about taking off his jacket. “‘The Seven Ill Years’ refers to a particularly shitty time in early modern Scotland; the 1690s.”

He tugs off his costly leather shoes and places them side-by-side under his chair. “I was in my… early thirties at the time, I think. Thirty-two? Maybe thirty-one. Whatever.”

Dean is gaping now. He’s never seen Crowley without his outer layers, much less the growing slice of exposed chest as Crowley unbuttons his shirt.

“For a lot of complicated reasons relating to oceanic thermohaline circulation, solar activity, and a few ill-timed volcanos, the weather turned rotten. These days, it’s called the Little Ice Age. Us pigshit stupid peasants who lived through it didn’t know anything about all that. All we knew was that it was freezing bloody cold and the crops kept dying.”

“Dude,” Dean hisses, red-faced as Crowley sets his shirt alongside his jacket and overcoat. “Stop it! We’re going to be thrown out!”

“No. Look around. Is anyone paying attention to us? Precisely. We’re invisible to them at the moment, Squirrel. One of my little tricks.”

“Oh. Okay, that’s good. But that’s still not an excuse to take your fucking pants off in public oh my God oh my God!”

They’re expensive pants and Crowley takes care to fold them before putting them down. “To cut a long story short; famine struck. And famine, it’s…”

Crowley pauses, thinking, ignoring Dean’s pathetic attempts not to gawk at his dick.

“It’s hard to describe famine to someone who hasn’t lived through one,” he says eventually. “Language – English, at least – isn’t equipped to convey what it feels like to be so hungry you’ll try to boil and eat someone else’s shoes. Then someone else’s children. Then your own children. There are no words for it. Or, if in some distant corner of our monstrous universe there are, then they’re words that would drive a human raving mad to speak them.”

Naked now but for his black socks, Crowley scratches his stubble. “Sometimes I think that’s why I got on so well in Hell.”

He sits back in his chair. Folds his legs. Taps his fingers on the side of his empty glass. “Don’t get me wrong; having someone cut open your lungs, fill them with scorpions, and sew them up again isn’t fun. But – how can I put this? – you can process it. You can grapple with it. You know why you’re suffering; because you’re in Hell, and that’s what Hell is for. It makes sense. What doesn’t make sense is going about your everyday life and watching all the people around you – the baker, the priest, the prettiest girl in the village – go about theirs while they turn into walking skeletons. And knowing they didn’t do anything to deserve it. Couldn’t have done anything to deserve it, because no crime, no matter how vile, warrants that kind of punishment.”

Dean says nothing.

After a moment, Crowley pulls himself from the dark, sucking well of memory to add, “Anyway, to answer your question; I don’t want to be a hot chick because a. I’m a man and b. hot chicks are skinny, and I will cheerfully burn this world to the ground before I endure living in a hungry body ever again.”

He glances down at his unclothed meat suit and smiles proudly, running a hand up one of its thick thighs. “Also – y’know – I personally think this long-deceased lad of mine is sexy as Hell.”

Gazing at his shoulder, Dean says roughly, “Didn’t know you had tattoos.”

“Oh. Those. Yeah. Can’t stand them. Worst decision the stupid bastard ever made.”

“I think they’re kinda cool.”

“Do you? Well, you do have incredibly bad taste so perhaps that’s not surprising. Now, are you going to get over here and put that erection to good use?”

Oh, bless him; he’s adorable when he squirms.

“Here?” Dean asks, eyes wide.

“Here.”

He says it like a challenge, for Dean can never resist one of those. Immediately, those wide eyes become narrow and determined.

The boy stands. Looms over Crowley, who casually flicks both their glasses to the floor and moves to sit on the cool wooden table. It’s clean, more or less, thanks to Dean (for once) agreeing to follow Crowley to a semi-respectable establishment.

“These hands,” Crowley murmurs, running them across Dean’s broad chest, “don’t have a single callous or scar. See? Soft as butter. Not a single day’s honest work, either of them.”

Dean swallows. Leans in to kiss him, hesitant and gentle.

Contrary to popular belief, Crowley likes gentle. Or, more accurately, Crowley likes being pampered.

He goes on: “And these legs…”

A groan escapes Dean’s lips as one presses up against his crotch.

“…these legs haven’t walked more than ten miles, collectively, since I moved in. No muscles. No blisters on the undersides of their feet. Not so much as a splinter.”

“Jesus,” Dean mumbles, drawing him in and latching onto his neck.

“And this stomach is never empty. Never even close. Never once forced to digest anything that isn’t purely, perfectly delicious. I treat my meat suits better than most people treat their family heirlooms.”

“Crowley. Fuck.”

He squeezes Dean’s arse and growls, “Because this is my reward, Dean. I won this. This softness, this safety. This nurtured, nourished flesh. I endured the seventeenth century and all humanity’s horrors. Endured my mother. Endured Hell. Built myself a reputation and a kingdom. All for this. And isn’t it wonderful? Say that it is, Dean.”

“Yeah,” Dean moans, even though he can’t understand a word; Crowley slipped into Gaelic a while ago.

(The things Crowley wants to tell Dean and the things Crowley wants Dean to know are categories that rarely overlap.)

Crowley takes Dean’s leaking cock in hand.

“Say I’m beautiful.”

Dean’s knees buckle as he whimpers, so Crowley wraps an arm around his narrow, underfed waist.

“Say you love me.”

Dean comes in his palm, gasping and cursing.

“Say you love me more than anyone else.”

“I’m guessing that was all Scottish dirty talk?” says Dean when he has his breath back. “You were – what? Calling me your bitch?”

Crowley smirks, licks the sweat off Dean’s jaw, and gives his backside a pat before reaching for his clothes. “None of your business. Go get me another drink, would you? Ta.”

 the end

NOTES: The title is taken from a quote found in Karen Cullen’s ‘Famine in Scotland: the ‘Ill Years’ of the 1690s’ (you can find extracts via googlebooks). Yes, canonically Crowley WOULD have been about thirty when this happened. Just in case his origin story wasn’t horrific enough wheee :D

#drowley #dean winchester #crowley #supernatural #spn crowley #my fic

[marshmallow-phd]

Catching Rain

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Wolf!AU

Pairing: Minseok x Reader

Summary: You were more than satisfied with your life. You attended a nice college, had nice friends, a nice boyfriend. That’s what your life was: nice. You weren’t looking for anything more, so what were you to do when this seemingly harmless boy walked into your life and turned your nice little world into one much more dangerous?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I Epilogue

**

The sound of your pencil tapping lightly against your notebook must have been annoying those around you, but you were too focused on the digital clock hanging above the professor’s head to care. Bright red numbers stole your attention; each time it changed you sat up a still straighter, scooted closer to the edge of your seat. The darkness of the room didn’t help. Even with the projector shining the notes you were supposed to be absorbing did nothing to block out the beacon. You were starving.

Okay, maybe not literally, but you were definitely ravenous. Breakfast had been the last thing on your mind this morning and now you were paying for it severely. A headache brewed right under the surface and your stomach gurgled and bubbled from the emptiness. The thought of leaving early did cross your mind, but that would have been rude, not to mention highly inconvenient since you were seated near the middle of the small lecture hall. It was best to avoid the dirty looks and low curses from those that you have to crawl over to get the stairs on the edge.

“And that ends the lesson for today.” The professor walked over to the side and flipped on the light. The sudden brightness made you squint, but it was worth the relief you felt. He’d ended the lesson a whole ten minutes early. You packed your belongs as quietly as possible while still keeping a listening ear. “Please look over chapter six, sections one and two before next class, there will be a two question quiz over the passages.” You scribbled a reminder down in the corner of your notebook and hopped up out of your seat. You weren’t the only one who had called it quits for the day even though the professor was still talking. “Don’t forget the first outline of your project is due next class as well, if it’s not turned in then it’s an automatic twenty percent deduction.”

Standing in line to shuffle out from the row of desks, you made a mental note to go over your outline one more time. You were already on the third stage of the project – gathering the necessary sources for the paper – but it was still a good idea to count your ducks and make sure they were lined up nicely.

You hurried to the cafeteria. The moment you were inside you hopped in the first line you saw, not bothering to take the time to consider your options. The line you were in was for the salads and sandwiches; boring food it was. Your stomach didn’t care if your taste buds weren’t going to be blown away today, it only needed sustenance. With your tray full, you moved over to the cash register and paid for your meal before finding a free table.

“Hungry much?”

Willa slid into the chair across from you, her own tray holding the spaghetti special. The buttery garlic smell drifted over to you and made your mouth water. You chewed slowly on your bland sandwich. Maybe later you could stop by for an afternoon snack….

“Already started without me, I see.” Eric dropped his bag in the half booth beside you and kissed the top of your head.

You smiled up at him. “Early bird gets the worm.”

“But the second mouse gets the cheese,” he countered as he pushed his glasses up his nose.

You leaned around him and stared at the long lines forming across the way. “I don’t think that second half applies here. You better get going before all the good stuff is gone.”

Erik followed your gaze. “Oh, crap. You’re right. Be right back!”

After swallowing a mouthful of noodles, Willa sighed. “You two are so cute.”

You snickered under your breath, but didn’t reply. Erik and you had met in World Music Appreciation your freshman year. In class, he was the slightly loud, slightly obnoxious kid who sat behind you with his friends. Somehow – and to this day you still weren’t sure the steps that led to it – you ended up in their study group for the final exam. You found that the boy who sat behind you was indeed funny, but also intelligent, generally entertaining to be around. After passing the exam that was much harder than any introductory music class should have been, you found yourself going out for celebratory pizza with him that morphed into your first date. The two of you had settled into a comfortableness with each other and you were happy.

As if trying to contradict you, Minseok’s face made an appearance in your mind. You shook the image of his smile away. That… that wasn’t good.

“Not hungry anymore?” Finally through the line, Erik sat down beside you and cracked open the can of pop he’d purchased. You looked down at the half-eaten sandwich in your hand. You hadn’t realized you’d stopped eating. The grumbling of your stomach hadn’t completely subsided, however, the bread and meat combination was no longer remotely appealing. Was this your “grass is always greener” moment?

To wave away the thoughts, you became playful again, reaching over and plucking a lob of cheese off the fresh slice of pizza on Erik’s plate and tossed in your mouth. “No, I just decided that your food looks better.”

“Well, then here.” Erik picked up your plate, took the sandwich out of your hand and slid his tray over to your side. “I’ll eat this.”

“No, Erik, give it back.”

“Seriously, (y/n), it’s fine.”

“Holy crap.”

Willa’s soft outburst stopped the playful argument in its tracks. “What is it?” Erik asked after taking a bite of your sandwich. Giving in, you nibbled on the pizza as you waited for the answer. Your taste buds cheered in victory. This was much better.

“A couple campers were attacked last night in the woods.” Willa’s eyes were trained on her phone, scanning the article that fed her the information. Whatever words she was reading, they must have been bad. Normally, Willa was the more upbeat, nothing-gets-her-down type. It must have been bad.

You leaned forward on the table. Your happy mood at the better-tasting meal as disappeared, replaced by worry. “What was it? Does it say?”

Willa swallowed thickly. “The one that was still awake said it was a wolf. A really big wolf.”

“The one that was still awake?”

“Yeah. I guess there were three of them. One died and one’s in the ICU. The third was only sort of injured when the park rangers found them.”

“Maybe he did it,” Erik said skeptically.

“I thought the same thing, but the police say the scene was consistent with an animal attack.” She clicked the lock button on the side of her phone and put it down. Her eyes flickered to you then back down at her food. It didn’t take a telepath to figure out where her mind had gone.

Erik threw an arm around your shoulders. “See why I don’t like the idea of you going out there by yourself?”

Guilt sunk your stomach. Now you really didn’t feel like eating. To try and hide it, you smiled up at him. “I’ve always understood, but you’re right, that’s a scary thing happen and it could happen to anyone.”

Satisfied, Erik removed his arm and turned his focus back to eating. You continued to pick at the cheese in order to throw off any suspicion. While the guilt of lying was still there, that wasn’t at the most forefront of your thoughts. As plausible as it was, you hoped that it wasn’t your wolf that attacked those people. Well, the wolf didn’t belong to you, but you couldn’t image such a creature killing a human being. He’d seemed to gentle and sweet to be able to do such a thing.

It was an animal, you reminded yourself. They ran on pure instinct. Besides, you didn’t know the whole story. Perhaps, if it was the same one you met in the clearing, he was provoked. Idiots were always teasing animals, whether at the zoo or the park. It was quite possible that the campers brought it upon themselves.

No. You shouldn’t think like that. A person died. Sighing, you pushed the tray away from you.

“Full?” Erik asked. You nodded and he picked up the remains of the pizza, devouring it in only a few short bites. You giggled at the grease stain left in the corner of his mouth. With the napkin, you wiped it away and started to feel somewhat at ease again.

**

Minseok was devastated. There was no other word for it. This- this was not a possibility he had imagined. How could fate be so cruel?

As he stood near the entrance of the cafeteria, he’d been overjoyed at spotting you, sitting alone at one of the hybrid tables near the middle of the large crowded room, devouring the food in front of you like Chanyeol at his favorite burger place. For a moment, he’d considered walking over and saying hi, but thought better of it since he wasn’t alone. Jongdae was chatting about his classes, laughing merrily with Jongin and Yixing beside him. All the noise was a simple hum in Minseok’s ears. His fellow students were nothing but blurs his peripheral; only you were in focus. One foot started your way despite his previous hesitation, but then another girl sat down across from you. He took that as a sign to slow down. Then a guy joined you, placing his bag down as if he owned that space beside you, and kissed your head. You beamed up at him.

The ground shook beneath his feet, vibrating his whole body. An elbow connected with his stomach and made him flinch. “Hey, you okay?” Jongdae asked.

“Yeah,” Minseok lied as he turned away from the sight that caused his blood to boil. The wolf had never been so hard to fight before. Human. He had to be completely human here. “But I think I’m going to take my food back to the lounge.”

“What? Why?”

“Is everything alright?” Yixing tilted his head in that way he always did when he was trying to read through the expressions on their faces. It was irritating at times, especially when they didn’t want to talk about whatever was bothering them. He meant well, but he wasn’t learning to become that kind of doctor.

“Yeah, yeah.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, Minseok forced himself to turn away before he stormed across the cafeteria. The sure fire way of having you reject him would be to slam your boyfriend against the wall. Jongdae opened his mouth to counter, but Minseok was already moving into the line, grabbing a faded red tray still wet from the washer and sliding it across the three metal bars that kept the herd of college students at bay. He swiped up a plate with a lukewarm slice of pizza and kept going. Bypassing everything else, the last thing he grabbed was a can of flavored coffee from the open fridge before going to the register.

Jongdae pouted as Minseok waved goodbye and walked out of the building. His grip on the tray was strained, knuckles pale and tendons popping out from under the skin on the back of his hands. This complicated things well beyond the obstacles he already had in his way. And here he had the fairytale in his head, thinking he would simply meet you, continue to “coincidentally” run into you and get to know you until the two of you naturally fell in love and then… well, he didn’t exactly have a plan after that, but now that would really have to be put off while he figured out how to get past step one.

Arriving at the mathematics college where he spent most of his time, he made his way through the halls until he found the lounge reserved for the GTAs. There were tables where they studied and put together lesson plans as well as couches where more naps occurred than other types of casual reclining. Against one wall was a stereo equipped with Bluetooth while a TV and game console sat across the way. It was a room where they could relax and bounce ideas off each other. The place was empty at the moment, most of the usual occupants either in class or eating lunch with their friends.

Minseok sat down at one of the tables. He aggressively chewed on the pizza as he tried not to think about what he saw a few minutes ago. And here he thought eventually telling you that he was a wolf was going to be the hard part. A large group came in then, happily talking amongst themselves. Spotting Minseok, they joined him. Sungkyu took the seat to Minseok’s right and dropped a heavy binder on the table.

“Sometimes I wonder why I took this job,” Sungkyu grumbled.

So much for peace and quiet. Oh, well, hopefully this would serve as a nice distraction. Minseok could go back to planning his next step later, once he’d calmed down a bit.

“Having fun with the freshman?” Minseok teased. As GTAs, that was the main group they taught. Not all classes were bad, but it usually took a while for some of them to realize that college was much more serious than high school.

“Actually, it’s not a freshman.” Opening the binder, Sungkyu pulled out a few papers stapled together. A sticky note covered the name written at the top, but the red ink that dictated the score was out for the world to see. “She’s close to our age, a senior, but she put this class off until the last minute. And I’m starting to see why. I don’t want to fail her, but….”

“Just give her an extra credit project,” Varya suggested between sips of her peach tea.

“Like what?”

Changmin was the first to have an idea. “Have her put together a project that applies the math to whatever her major is.”

Sungkyu wrinkled his nose at the idea. “That sounds complicated. She’s an arts major.”

“Get someone to help her with it.”

“Are you volunteering?” Varya snorted. Changmin was… charming and used it quite well, to put it mildly. “Who is it? Maybe I’ll help.”

Sungkyu peeled back the sticky note. “(y/n) (l/n).”

Minseok nearly choked on his food. Was this fate giving him a Get Out of Jail free card?

Varya shrugged. “Never heard of her.”

“I’ll do it!” The word were out before Minseok could figure out how to say them without sounding overeager. Everyone at the table was staring at him, confused. He wasn’t the kind to volunteer for these sort of things. He wasn’t the kind to add additional interactions to his schedule; he was too much of an introvert for it.

“You hate any sort of tutoring,” Sungkyu pointed out.

“I need it… for my resume.” He didn’t even have a resume. At least not a serious one. The last time he’d put together the paper bragging about himself was for a class three years ago. The file was probably somewhere on his laptop, but he doubted he would ever actually add something like this to it.

While Changmin and Varya still eyed him curiously, Sungkyu simply shrugged. “Whatever. This is only if she agrees to do it, anyway.”

“If she wants to graduate, she’ll do it.” Standing up, Varya threw out the remaining ice in her reusable cup and slipped her bag over her shoulder. “I’ll see you guys later. I’ve got a research paper that’s not going to write itself.”

In an overdramatic fashion, Changmin placed his hand over his heart and looked to the ceiling. “If only they did. My school career would be so much easier.”

Sungkyu rolled his eyes. “And yet completely negate the purpose of it all.” Changmin wasn’t bothered by the comment at all, pulling out his phone and scrolling through his social media as he leaned back in his chair. Sungkyu replaced the sadly scored paper and closed his binder. “Are you free tomorrow a little after four?” he asked Minseok. “I want to try and catch her after class. I’m sure she’ll agree to do the extra credit, but maybe having you right there to say you’ll help will nudge her if she’s on the fence about it.”

“Absolutely.” There was no way Minseok was going let this opportunity go. Maybe this was the better way to go about it. The two of you would be spending time together while he helped you with this project; endless time just you and him. He could get to know you, learn about what you liked and disliked, where you saw yourself going and where you’d already been. Then he could properly fight for your heart, win his mate over the right way. The excitement of what awaited him was almost too much. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

**

You wanted to disintegrate there in your seat.

Right on the front of the homework you just received back was a sticky note asking you to stay back after class. Never had you want a period to not end, to go on and on in a cycle of torture. You knew it was about it your recent grades. It wasn’t as if you weren’t trying. But this subject had never been your strong suit and recently it had been harder to grasp the concepts. You were an arts student, a photographer. When were you ever really going to need to know how to find the function of x after this?

Unfortunately, the end came and you stayed seated while the younger students happily skipped out of the classroom. When it was only the two of you left, you got up and walked over to the desk.

“That bad, uh?” you said in an attempt to lighten your own mood.

Sungkyu, at least, seemed a little sympathetic. “I’ve seen worse.”

“Well, not everyone can be a math genius.”

“No. That’s why I’m going to give you a chance to make up the points.”

You perked up. This was… somewhat good, given your mind had wondered if he was going to suggest you drop the class for now and try again later, under a different teacher. “Really?” You couldn’t help but feel like a rabbit jumping for a carrot hanging in the air. “Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”

“Good.” Sungkyu reached behind him and plucked up a sheet of paper before leaning back against the desk. “I’ve got an outline here that’ll explain the project in detail.” He handed it over to you before continuing. “The basics, though, are pretty much just write a paper of how the subject relates to your major.”

You’ve got to be kidding me. Clearing your throat, you said, “O-okay. I think I can do that. Except….”

“You don’t know where to start?” Sungkyu guessed. You nodded. “That’s alright. I’m not going to make you do it alone. I’ve enlisted some help for you. Minseok?”

In from the hallway strolled in the very same Minseok you’d run into the day before. There was no way…. You nearly laughed out loud. This couldn’t possibly be a coincidence, could it? But the manner in which he shyly waved at you and fidgeted from foot to foot told you that it might be.

“Minseok will help you with the research and come with ideas. He’ll also help you with the examples that way you get all the points. Is that alright?”

Your stomach did a backflip. This meant the two of you would be spending time together – alone. Which wasn’t anything unusual; you’d had project partners of the opposite sex before, but none of them sent your heart leaping either. Perhaps it would be best to keep this on a need-to-know basis for the time being. Smiling, you looked at the expectant GTA.

“Peachy.”

#exo #exo wolf au #exo wolf!au #minseok x reader #kim minseok #xiumin #exo werewolf!au #exo werewolf au #exo supernatural au #exo series #exo fanfiction #exo fanfic #Untamed Wolf Universe #Catching Rain

[not-close-to-straight]

Lost and Found (Twelve)

*dramatic music* and also RhodeyTony softness because Besties deserve it. 

MASTERLIST HERE

**************

“Rhodey.” Tony paused when he came into the lab and found the colonel sprawled out across the couch, phone in one hand and a clearly stolen-from- Tony’s-desk bag of chips in the other. “Hey. I didn’t know you were coming by.” 

“Didn’t know I had to announce when I was coming by, thought there was an open door policy in this place.” Rhodey tipped the bag up into his mouth and crunched loudly at the crumbs, remained silent while Tony gave the lab a quick once over, and then told him, “Don’t worry. JARVIS hid everything away when I opened the doors, I didn’t see any of your super secret boy band stuff.” 

Tony made an attempt to not look so relieved, but Rhodey caught it anyway and rolled his eyes. “Damn Tones, used to be you didn’t keep anything from me. You can trust me, you know. Just tell me you’re getting N’Sync back together and that’s why all the cabinets over there now have locks on them and I’ll quit bugging you about it.” 

“N’Sync?” Tony rummaged through his desk until he found an unopened un-pilfered bag of chips and tossed it at Rhodey, dropped down onto the couch and scooted close to his best friend. “You know damn well I’m a Backstreet Boy. N’Sync. More like N’Wack.” 

“Yeah, that joke wasn’t funny when you told it six years ago and it’s not funny now.” The colonel popped the new bag of chips and offered Tony the first handful. “Are you gonna ask me what I found out about the Monaco Whip Fetish guy, or are we going to have to karaoke duel it out to figure out who’s the best band?” 

“Always Backstreet.” Tony crammed in several bites of chips and said around a spray of crumbs, “Is Monaco Whip Fetish Guy the official name? Because I could be on board with that. Just spicy enough to sell headlines, just awkward enough to ruin the moment at social gatherings.”  

“You seem chipper today.” Rhodey commented instead of answering straight away. “And by chipper I mean obnoxious. What’s going on?” 

“I thought you missed my patented brand of hilarity?” Tony nudged Rhodey’s foot and ignored the gratifying twinge in his core from James at the Monaco hotel. He was running on three hours of sleep and the left over high of being fucked to the point of near incoherence and it was nice. It was nice and all the questions were sort of ruining his buzz which was a bummer because he really needed it to last all the way through Pierce’s stupid party and then hopefully carry over into--

“Where the hell did you just go?” Rhodey snapped his fingers in front of Tony’s eyes and the brunette jumped. “What was that, you zoned completely. Earth to Tones.” 

“Yeah, yeah I’m here. Solidly on Earth and chipper as hell.” Tony waved the hand away. “Eat some more chips and tell me about Whip Fetish Guy.” 

James’s look was thoroughly unimpressed and unconvinced, and Tony’s returning glance was equally unconcerned and more than a little impatient so the Colonel cleared his throat and reached for the file next to him on the couch. 

“Alright. Whip Fetish Guy’s real name is Ivan Antonovich Vanko. Forty years old and some change best as we can tell, his passport and ID are all fake so it’s sort of a guessing game.” Rhodey pulled out a photo and handed it to Tony. “You recognize this guy at all? Anton Vanko worked with Stark Industries and specifically with your dad on the arc reactor. Those two were bosom buddies right up until Vanko was accused of espionage and then convicted of selling weapons grade plutonium to Pakistan. They gave him almost two decades in Kopiesk before he fell off the map.” 

“JARVIS?” Tony held up the picture and a light burst from the ceiling to scan the photo and upload it to his servers. “I’ve never even heard this guy’s name. You sure he worked with Dad?” 

“How else do you explain the arc reactor, Tony?” James asked flatly. “We both have reviewed the Senate footage of the other attempts to replicate your armor and nothing comes close. not even in the developed countries. Then a guy from the butt end of Siberia who says your dads worked together has a perfectly working model. That can’t be a coincidence.” 

“It’s not--” Tony ground his teeth together and pursed his lips. “It’s not perfectly working, but yeah pretty damn close. So what, you think old man Vanko hated Howard for getting him deported and encouraged his son to take revenge over some plutonium? I don’t think terrorists are allowed to upset about being outed as terrorists.”  

There was that left over bitter than Tony had never quite managed to hide after Afghanistan, the left over anger after what had been done to him at the hands of the Ten Rings, what he’d seen done to villages full of innocents after his company sold the baddies the means to wage war. 

“Nope.” he decided. “Being outed as a piece of shit selling our weapons to the bad guys isn’t a valid reason for revenge. Ask Obadiah. Oh wait, you can’t because we disintegrated him when the reactor core blew.” 

“Easy easy.” Rhodey murmured when Tony’s hands balled up tight. “Nobody’s saying Obadiah or the Ten Rings were justified in anything they did. Not to you, not to all the people they hurt--” 

“--not to Yinsen!” Tony burst out and the colonel nodded, “Not to Yinsen. And I’m not saying Anton Vanko didn’t deserve to be locked up but it might not have gone down the way we think.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“You didn’t hear this from me.” Rhodey handed Tony another piece of paper, the report filed by Howard naming Vanko as a spy. “But there wasn't a whole lot of proof, Tony. Not a whole lot of proof of anything until the charge comes in for selling the plutonium. Vanko’s name is all over all the early plans of the reactor, then they get something finalized, a few days later he’s deported as a spy and if you look at the timeline it sure seems like first he was accused and thrown out, then he turned to selling weapons.” 

“It’s not an excuse.” he said slowly. “But Tony, I’ve read these reports a hundred times. It sort of looks like they got everything finalized and everything went to hell. Either Howard discovered some concrete proof of espionage and decided not to share it with the class--” 

“--Or Dad sold the guy upstream so Stark Industries would completely own the patent on a piece of technology that would change the world.” Tony raised his eyebrows skeptically. “That’s a reach, even for Howard.” 

“It’s a reach.” Rhodey allowed. “But it’s not unheard of. Remember Project Paperclip after the war? We imported all the best minds from Germany, used them up and threw them in jail or sent them back home to be tried as war criminals. Using intellect and getting rid of the person attached is capitalism at it’s finest, and especially back when everyone was worried about Communists and turning on their neighbors to report them... it’s not really a reach at all. One business partner getting rid of another with a frame up job isn’t unheard of. And the 'bad guy’ moniker is so easy to slap on someone who talks with an accent. You know that. You’ve seen Die Hard.” 

“One hundred and twenty seven times, yeah.” Tony picked up the file and flipped through it himself. “Well what do you want me to do about it? No matter what Howard did or Anton thought he did-- Ivan walked down the middle of the Grand Prix slicing up cars and not caring who he killed. If he was after me for revenge, how did he even know I was racing? I didn’t plan that at all. How did he know? Is there a security leak I should be worried about?” 

“Well, I don’t trust your new hunky boyfriend and I sure as hell don’t trust your new super hot secretary.” Rhodey took the papers back and reassembled the file. “But I don’t think Ivan knew you were racing. I think his original plan was to show up and murder a room full of people until he got to you, and you deciding to be a full tilt moron and go racing just changed things. Sure made it easier for Vanko to find you, and probably saved a bunch of lives keeping the fight out on the road.” 

“Oh good, I’m glad my trauma and what will certainly be re-occuring nightmares made things easier on the maniac.” Tony slumped back into the couch and closed his eyes, a coming headache from lack of sleep and a couple days of high stress pushing at the edge of his vision. “Don’t bother updating me on the situation, alright? So long as he’s not out causing more mayhem, I don’t want to know what’s happening. Can’t take the stress.” 

“Uh huh.” Rhodey nudged at him. “You’re not jealous that he has cool whips and you’re still shooting stuff out your palm like a dummy?” 

“Keep talking like that and I’ll pop you in the face with a repulsor, see which one of us is the dummy then.” 

Silence in the lab, comfortable and years in the making of content, Rhodey crunching away on chips while Tony tried to relax and drifted towards sleep. Monaco had only been yesterday morning and the flight home had taken the entire night. A few hours of sleep had been all Tony managed before the restlessness drove him downstairs to find Rhodey and he only had a few hours before he had to get presentable and the promised appropriate for Pierce’s party. 

He was suddenly exhausted, the buzz from Monaco draining away and leaving him worn out but Rhodey was familiar and warm and  despite the secrets piling up between them, Tony breathed out a sigh of relief and snuggled closer. “Remember college?” he mumbled. “When we’d fall asleep studying?” 

“I remember your ass running on unfiltered caffeine and Satan’s own spite to get through finals.” Rhodey countered, settling an arm around Tony’s shoulders. “I remember you shrieking about freedom after the last exam and then coming to find me and falling asleep wherever I was. The table in the cafeteria, the front quad, the library.” 

“Yeah.” Tony yawned. “Good memories, right? Treasured times.” 

“Not half as treasured as you think.” Rhodey frowned when Tony’s shirt gapped and he caught a glimpse at black lines around the reactor, and his frown deepened when he saw a spot that looked like a bruise at Tony’s neck. “What’s with the extra dark lines right there, Tony? You okay?” 

Tony was not okay and Rhodey knew it, but he still gave his friend the chance to lie to him come clean. “Everything still good?” 

“Everything’s fine.” Tony closed up his shirt without opening his eyes. “Normal stuff behind the arc reactor after extended use of the suit and stress.” 

“And your neck?” 

“Probably a hickey.” Tony grinned to himself when Rhodey muttered a curse about ‘too much goddamn information’. “Yeah, sort of surprised I don’t look worse. James is energetic.” 

“I will push you off this couch if you keep talking like that.” Rhodey stated, and Tony zipped his lip over a quiet laugh. “So what, you two are getting serious?” 

“If by serious you mean we’ve progressed to the dance with no pants--” 

“--Tony!” 

“--then sure, I guess you could say serious.” Tony shrugged, yawned and stretched until he was fit snugger at the colonels side. “It’s fun. Never thought I’d be the one to say things like ‘get deeper’ but--ooph!” 

Tony gasped when Rhodey unceremoniously-- and honestly sort of rudely-- pushed him off the couch and right onto the floor. “Honeybear! How could you?”

“Try again.” Rhodey stretched all the way out on the couch so there was no room for Tony. “And keep it G-rated.” 

“Spoilsport.” 

“Brat.” 

Rhodey gave in and hauled Tony back up, tucking the smaller brunette in at his side and frowning all over again when he felt how thin Tony was beneath his shirt, the way Tony trembled just a little bit in his arms. “Tony--” 

“James treats me good.” Tony changed the subject and Rhodey took the hint for what it was. “I waited twenty five years after Tiberius to try something like this again and I gotta say, it’s working out really well.” 

“So he’s uh--” Damn, Rhodey hated having this conversations but he’d been having them with Tony since MIT so there was no reason to stop now. “-- he’s being good to you? Listening to you and all that? You guys are being safe?” 

“I’m in my forties, Rhodey.” Tony jabbed at his side. “You don’t need to have the birds and bees talk with me.” 

“I’m pretty sure this talk is just bees and bees.” The colonel replied dryly. “Seriously though, Tones. You aren’t letting him break your heart are you?” 

“Not sure I have a heart left to break, Platypus.” Tony mumbled. 

“Come on now, we all know that’s a lie.” Rhodey couldn’t shake the feeling that Tony was fragile just now, so he budged forward and gave him a gentle kiss on the forehead. “Want me to stay here so you can sleep a little bit before Pierce’s thing?” 

Tony didn’t answer because he was already asleep, lulled under by the sound of Rhodey’s voice in his ear and the steady beat of his heart. 

“Wacky kid.” The Colonel tried for affectionate, but it just came out miserable as he got an up close look at the bags under Tony’s eyes and the stress lines etched into his face. “What the hell is going on with you?” 

“If I may, Colonel?” 

“Yes, JARVIS.” 

“The shelter Mr. James stayed at requires a full health panel to be run on any of their residents. At the request of Ms. Potts I accessed the information and can assure you that James was given a clean bill of health. Almost astonishingly clean considering his time being homeless and former military service. There were several curious markers in his blood noted, but nothing that raised any red flags so they were simply pushed aside.” 

“Curious markers?” Rhodey repeated. “Anything you could access?”

“I fear the shelters system is not as equipped as I am to deal with unknowns, so once it was established there was nothing untoward in his system, transmitted or otherwise, the rest was ignored.” 

“Okay, well thanks for letting me know.” Rhodey ran a careful hand through Tony’s hair and sighed. “Damn near fifty years old and I still gotta make sure your partners aren’t skeevy? Come on, Tones you’re killing me.” 

“Shall I turn the lights down, Colonel Rhodes?” 

“Put on that one song too, the one his Mama always played on the piano. That always helps him sleep.” 

“Of course, Colonel.” 

The first strains of Try to Remember floated through the lab, and Rhodey pulled one of the blankets down from the back of the couch to cover Tony, set his alarm for ten am so Tony would have time to shower and change before the party and settled in for a quick nap. 

Sometime soon he’d have to sit James down and give him the old shovel talk, but for right now…

“Thanks for staying, Rhodey.” 

“It’s no problem, bud.” 

...for right now, this was fine.

**************

**************

“I thought the party was at eleven?” James asked as he followed Tony out of the limo at just past twelve thirty. “We’re late?” 

“It’s called making an entrance.” Tony was still tired-- would that ever go away?-- but after a nap with Rhodey he was feeling better so he managed an almost real smile for the cameras that immediately began flashing in his face. “Trust me, we’re not even the latest ones here. The richer people are, the later they will show up to an event.” 

“Seems rude.” James remarked and Tony chuckled, “Yeah, so are rich people. Come on, I’ll introduce you to a whole bunch you definitely won’t like.” 

“You said this would be fun!” James was only mock complaining, but he did have to put his hands in his pocket so he wouldn’t try and hold onto Tony when the pretty brunette grinned at him. Snuggling close on the plane had been one thing, sharing a quick kiss before going to their separate rooms at the Malibu house had been another. But the Inauguration and Promotion party for the new Secretary of Defense was not the best time to announce their...relationship?... to the entire world and even though James didn’t understand a whole lot about Tony’s life, he remembered enough of his own hidden memories to not be angry about keeping things under wraps a little longer. 

No problem. 

“I said there would be lots of suits and uptight small talk.” Tony corrected. “I never promised fun.” 

“Okay okay.” James held up his hands peacefully. “But I also remember you saying something about tiny snacks too, so lead me to those and I’ll be fine. S’not rude to eat trays at a time, right? Or is that only rich people rude?” 

“You’re um--” Tony peered over his glasses at James curiously. “You’re fun today. Not that you aren’t usually fun but this is-- I like it. Teasing and sort of flirty? Is this you you?” 

“Think so.” James nodded once, then again. “It feels real to be like this, not like I’m pretending or following what other people do so I come across as normal.” 

“I hear that.” Tony’s glasses went right back up when someone approached, and he cheesed through a few faux pleasantries before coming back to the conversation. “I spend most of my time acting the way people expect me to act, it’s nice sometimes to just be me.” 

“When are ya just you?” A hint of Brooklyn in his words, natural and unintended and James smiled when Tony blushed a tiny bit. “With Ms. Potts? At home?” 

“Lately?” Tony waved to someone and then glanced at James, glanced away when the pink on his cheeks darkened. “Just with you, I think.”

“Tony Stark!” someone interrupted their quiet conversation, an older woman in a tailored suit and the sort of tasteful jewelry that spoke of both money and a personal stylist and James took a step away purely out of habit, purely so he could observe from something of a distance.

These people were fascinating, most of them lying through their cosmetically enhanced to each other, laughing at unfunny jokes and doling out compliments that were only thinly veiled insults. Even Tony at his fakest and most camera ready behavior didn’t compare with how plastic the entire even felt. Plastic smiles, plastic bodies, plastic conversation. They were fascinating and there was far too much for James to catalogue and understand for him to pay attention to yet another inane conversation about--

“So! Taking a chance on something new are we?” James snapped back to attention when the woman’s gaze zeroed in on him, eyeing his left arm and silver fingers, lingering over his shoulders and long hair. “Who’s this?” 

“This is James.” Tony motioned James forward. “I’ve been doing some work on his prostheses and he’s--” 

“Gorgeous!” the woman interrupted. “He’s gorgeous! New flavor of the month? How long will this one last?” 

“Wow.” Tony cleared his throat. “Listen, I uh--” 

Thankfully-- and perhaps purposefully-- another voice called the woman away and she waved a cheerful, “Oh Secretary Pierce! Hello!” and granted Tony and James at least a moment of reprieve. 

“Sorry about that.” Tony took two glasses off a passing tray and handed one to James. “Remember when I said rich people are rude? Somehow they’re even worse than the press because at least the press fears being sued for slander and libel. Gossip is exempt from all of those things and it thrives in parties like this.” 

“Huh.” James took a sip of his drink and grimaced. Why didn’t they ever serve beer at these things? He liked beer right? ...right?

“So what’s the verdict?” he asked from behind his glass, and Tony cocked a confused eyebrow in his direction. “About me being the new flavor of the month, I mean.” 

“Ah.” Tony took a sip of his own, but didn’t bother trying to hide his smile. “Well, you certainly are new aren’t you?” 

“You’re fun today too.” James inched closer so just their elbows brushed. “Had a good time with Colonel Rhodes?” 

“Believe it or not, Monaco wasn’t even all that bad.” Tony let his eyes sparkle almost devious and was rewarded when James tinted soft pink. “The hotel was excellent. Sturdy walls and soundproof-- Secretary of Defense Pierce!” 

Conversation derailed by the same man that had stolen their too nosy companion away before, Tony switched topics mid sentence and raised his glass in a toast. “Hey! Congratulations on the appointment! We’re all rooting for you. Couldn’t go to a more deserving individual.” 

Tony was lying and James noticed for only a split second before his attention was captured by the man in front of him.

“Tony Stark. And his new.... friend...” 

Alexander Goodwin Pierce was a consummate politician-- deceptively easy going with quick smiles and warm hand shakes that contrasted with the severe lines of his suit and the sternness set into his features. His sharp gaze saw everything, sharper wit gleaned information from even the most reticent sources, and while he’d been known to de-escalate nuclear level tensions, there was a shark like quality to his gaze that spoke of searching for blood. 

The man was intimidatingly smart, overly educated and weaponized a practiced act of humility, going so far as to turn down a Nobel Peace Prize while simultaneously leveraging the influence afforded him by the honor into an ever escalating ladder of success. He was an American hero, a life long patriot and the sort of individual that would do anything to ensure the success of an endeavor he deemed the right path. 

Alexander Pierce was dangerous in the same way all smart men were dangerous, and while Howard had shaken his hand many a time and dined alongside Presidents and dignitaries while sharing private jokes, it had been Maria that never quite trusted Pierce’s particular brand of charm. 

And Tony took after his Mama in more ways than one, so when he reached to shake Pierce’s hand and was left rebuffed for a few seconds while the Secretary blatantly stared at James, he didn’t ignore the wiggle of unease down his spine.

What is happening? 

“This must be James.” Pierce said, smoothly, a hint of a smirk on his face as if he knew a secret neither Tony nor James knew, and Tony-- Tony hated that. Snake. “How on earth did you manage to find someone like this, Tony?” 

“We were both having breakfast in a diner with really good pancakes.” Tony stepped a little bit in front of James as if his height in any way covered the soldier’s hulking frame. “I offered to build him a new prostheses, he said I had a nice smile. Tale as old as time.” 

“Uh-huh.” Pierce had yet to look away from James, but his mouth turned up more at the corners, eyes sharpening as he looked James over. “I see. And tell me, how did a man like this happen to be in the exact diner where billionaire genius philanthropist Tony Stark would come in for pancakes? Was he living nearby?” 

“Was staying at the shelter in D.C.” James answered shortly. Tony was practically radiating tension towards a guy that didn’t seem to be any more danger than a damn toaster, but if Tony was going to be uncomfortable, James was going to be uncomfortable too. Tony had said Pierce was a nice guy but right now, he seemed more like an enemy so James tipped his chin up and narrowed his eyes. “What’s it to ya?” 

“What’s it to me.” Alexander laughed softly and lifted his glass up in a faux cheers. “An excellent sentence to be sure. How long was he at the shelter, Stark? Do you know why he chose D.C. as a landing point?” 

“Um--” James blinked, thrown by the way the man kept talking about him but not to him and the way Tony kept winding tighter and tighter. Everything about this was wrong and Pierce was smiling like he knew something, like he knew James, but that didn’t make any sense. 

Something was wrong. 

“Tony.” Alexander kept watching James. “You’ve never done a hands on charitable deed in your life. What is so special about this particular ex soldier?” 

“Sure, Stark Industries Charity Foundation does most of the good deeds, but I like to get my hands dirty every once in a while.” Tony retorted defensively. “How did you hear about James? Or his military service for that matter?” 

“He’s got soldier written all over him.” Pierce said, and that was apparently funny to only him. “The way he walks, the way he stands there staring. The speech--” he tapped at his bottom lip. “That’s new. A new development--” 

“Excuse me?” 

“No, I just mean you’d expect someone so clearly military to keep some more of that stilted speech pattern.” Alexander was quick to explain his words, but the seemingly intentional damage was already done and Tony reached behind him when he felt James step away. 

“Hey.” he said softly. “Hey, it’s okay. We can just leave if you want.” 

“Talk to your friend.” It was a like a curtain fell in front of James’s eyes, leaving them blank and cold, his speech stilted. Something was wrong and everything was plastic and he needed to leave. “I’ll find something to eat and wait for you outside.” 

Tony was safe, James knew that. The danger Pierce represented had nothing to do with Tony and something to do with James so he was just going to walk away. “I’ll be back in a little bit.”

“Oh no, don’t let him leave.” This was the shark Maria had hated so much, the eerily focused eyes and the teeth bared in a barely convincing smile. “I have so many questions. Tell me again how you two met?” 

“It was a diner.” Tony turned long enough to make sure James made it out the door then turned back to Pierce and took one, two steps into his space, reaching to finally finish that shake they never really got to, and purposefully squeezing hard. 

All his life he’d let the press and tabloids say what they wanted about him, he’d let Rhodey or Pepper deflect the meaner comments while he just laughed as if they didn’t wound him to his soul but now? Now Tony had a countdown and percent of nearly fifty and if he was crossing things off his bucket list, he might as well add finally telling pretentious politicians to shut the hell up to the tally, right?

...and if he was sort of irrationally angry that Secretary Pierce was being so rude to the first person to make Tony honestly happy in years…. 

….well that was something too, wasn’t it? 

“Mr. Stark.” Alexander raised his eye brows when Tony invaded his space. “Something on your mind?” 

“I don’t know what sort of game you’re playing, but no one is going to come along and purposefully make me and my date so uncomfortable.” Tony said calmly, quietly, clearly. “I don’t care who you are or how many President’s hands you’ve shaken, there is no excuse to talk about anyone the way you just talked about James and there’s certainly no excuse for the recently appointed Secretary of Defense to bring that sort of assholery to a former soldier.” 

“Tony, I think you’re over-reacting.” Alexander protested lightly. “I was just curious about your date, I wasn’t aware that you and the Soldier-- er, any soldiers-- ran in the same circles. Is there something in your past--” 

He emphasized the word. “--that draws you together? Perhaps he knew your dearly departed mother?” 

“Mr. Secretary, I don’t know why the hell you’re acting like this, but I have had enough.” Tony bared his teeth in an equally frightening smile as his vision practically flickered red with a surge of anger. His Mama? Pierce wouldn’t dare. “I am far past the days of giving a single flying fuck what people think about me or my actions. I don’t care what your title is or how much people admire you for pretending to not want that Nobel Prize. Whatever game you’re playing right now? Cut it out, or I will ruin you, do you understand?

“Just so we’re clear…” Pierce glanced around the room then pulled Tony an inch closer, eyes flashing in defiance. “Is Iron Man threatening me? Coming after the Secretary of Defense and head of SHIELD?” 

“No.” Tony shook his head. “This has nothing to do with Iron Man and everything to do with us. I personally will ruin you if you continue acting this way towards myself or anyone I bring around. Do you understand?” 

It was a step too far, way too far in fact, threatening a high ranking official and powerfully connected man with danger just for insulting him was way too far but Tony didn’t want to stop. No one else was going to tear down the things that made him happy, no one else was going to step up and ruin what should be a good day. Tony didn’t have all that many days left and damn it, he was tired of them being spoiled all the time. 

“Do you understand?” he asked again, pointed and focused and wishing half to hell he had finished the design on the stand alone gauntlet so he could whip it out and send Pierce through a wall. “No more.” 

“You’re the boss, Mr. Stark.” Pierce relaxed in a half second, backing off and smiling broadly. “After all, I never would have made it this far in life without the support of good friends and faithful Americans who choose to let me continue doing what I believe is right.” 

“Sure.” Tony’s head was suddenly throbbing and he tried not to visibly wince. “Whatever you say to make Washington like you. Now if you’ll excuse me--” 

“Oh there’s just one more thing.” Pierce said and Tony ground his teeth together in frustration. “You never gave me James’s last name.” 

“He’s got a pretty bad case of PTSD and some form of amnesia after his accident.” Tony said shortly. “We don’t know his last name, and trust me, I’ve looked.” 

“If you ever want to call in one of the dozen or so favors I owe the Stark family, I’d be happy to look up any information I can find on your friend.” Pierce offered smoothly. “Any information at all. I’m sure with my resources we could have an answer sooner rather than later. Might even see about getting some of those memories back. Wouldn’t that be fun? To be able to remember the nineties again? Good times for all involved, right?” 

“Mr. Secretary.” Tony pressed a hand to the arc reactor when his chest tightened with unexplained anxiety. “You’re clearly having a conversation that I am not privy too and since I don’t have time for political, societal bullshit anymore, I want you to know I mean this in the best way possible-- Congratulations on your promotion, but you can go fuck yourself.” 

Tony was on his way out the door a minute later, visibly seething, visibly searching for James and anyone who doubted that perhaps Tony Stark was actively dating a man had their questions answered when the two reunited at the front steps and held hands down into the waiting limo. 

My oh my, the gossip of the decade. 

“Was that--” Brock Rumlow was head of Secretary Pierce’s security, and he paused just over his boss’s shoulder to ask, “With Stark. That was him, wasn’t it?” 

“Somehow yes.” Pierce tossed back the rest of his drink. “We lost track of him in D.C. and it’s because Stark picked him up like a lost puppy and brought him all the way to Malibu. What are the odds of that?” 

“Sorta weird that it's old man’s Stark work that helped create him.” Rumlow offered. “Should we be worried about interference from big and blond?” 

“The most interesting thing about any member of the Stark family is that they have always thought they were ahead of the plot.” Pierce remarked slowly. “When in reality, they are so focused on their genius and their one project, they fail to see the rest unfolding around them. It was Howard’s issue, it was Maria’s issue and now it is Tony’s downfall. He is literally holding the piece to one of the greatest conspiracies of all time, and he has no idea.” 

“Doesn’t know about his parents?” 

“At this point, I’d say no.” 

“Are we going to change that?” 

“Not yet.” Alexander smiled graciously at a passing waitress. “No sense rushing things. The Soldier was wiped to the point of incoherence and he’s barely human as it is. Let’s wait and see what’s going to happen.” 

“What happens if the Soldier comes back online?” 

“Well, the last person on his list of targets was Stark.” the Secretary reminded him. “Then Stane stepped in and took care of Tony for us and we wiped the Asset before we realized Tony would escape. If he comes back online, he will revert to the last known objective and that will solve every headache and problem I’ve had since meeting Howard thirty years ago.” 

“Huh.” Rumlow shot one last look at the departing limo. “If you say so, boss.” 

“Oh, I think I’d prefer it if you called me Mr. Secretary.” Another smile for a party goer. “It has such a nice ring to it, don’t you think?

***************

***************

It was later that night when Tony lay in bed staring up at the ceiling and wishing he had the nerve to go and crawl in close to James when the conversation with Pierce came back to him. 

It was weird the way Pierce kept acting like he knew something about James, and not in the smarmy smirking way that homophobes acted around two men together, but in a more disturbing way, like he was laughing right in Tony’s face for just not knowing.... something. 

“J?” he called to the ceiling. “You up?” 

“For you sir, always.” 

“Do me a favor and create a program that will connect Alexander Pierce with anyone like James. Former soldiers, PTSD patients, anything like that. Was he over seas in a time when James might have been, was he involved in any rehab program-- all that sort of thing.” 

“Of course sir, I’ll begin right away. Would you like James’s opinion on the day’s events? My sensors show he is still awake as well.” 

“Um--” Tony’s entire body heated thinking about James being awake. “Um-- no. I need some sleep.” 

“The admission is a miracle in itself, sir. Ms. Potts will be thrilled you’ve finally come to recognize the very human need for REM sleep.” 

“Snarky shit.” Tony muttered, and rolled over into his pillows. “Good night, J.” 

“Good night sir. Sleep well.” 

*****************

Chapter Notes:

I. LOVE. BOY. BANDS so my NCTS-verse Tony does too. Die mad about it.

‘Try to Remember’ is the song Maria is playing when Tony does the BARF demo in CACW.

I sort of enjoyed how fucking terrible Pierce was in this. Talking about James because he never once saw the WS as a person, just as a tool. Making references to Howard and Maria’s death to Tony’s face. MAKING TONY STARK THE WS’s OBJECTIVE JUST BEFORE TONY GOT KIDNAPPED IN AFGHANISTAN. HOLY PLOT LINE BATMAN THAT COULD BE A FIC ALL BY ITSELF

SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THE FIC!

*****************

@quietgayguy @bluedreamdino @akimi-youngblood @blackstar1602 @dixiehellcat @travellover1245 @capnstarkey @the-awkward-teenaged-one @thanossucks @peteryoulittleshit @tony-and-steeeb @striving-artist @roe-sesandthorns @coolsidedpillow @i-am-worth-it-25 @firelightmystic @maligatorthealigator @simsccsol @a-tardis-in-221b @happyendingrequired @everygoodoneistaken11 @pootie-and-the-snoots @megahuffledor @xkissmeimirishx @crystalskrull @hazelbeatsturtle @wecollectnightmares @endrega23 @saganarojanaolt @the-crazy-house @ravynfyre @yomama-umbridge @lovely--tony @gayspacesprinkles @elliotkaingrey @warmachinesocks @glitternotgold73

@ships-galore @ceealaina @izziebladez @cwar1864 @hausoffro @tonystarkisanangel @multishippinglife @girlnic @iam93percentstardust @paranormalmoonlight5 @igotloki @moosette05 @wayward-student-philosopher @kaz-brekkers-gloves @atomicfandombomb @1fuckingshitup69 @agentlokii @livewire28 @tulipsnbigcats @kimstark @alex-stark-rogers @bibbarnes @heeeyitskay @goindownshipping @justaniche @actual-demon-belial

#ncts fics #winteriron #tony stark #bucky barnes #iron man 2 #alexander pierce

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

Dee Little Snake

Series Summary:  Janus uses age regression as a way to destress but has little control over it whenever he grows upset. Trying to keep a secret like that can be hard when you’re only four years old, and thus family bonding ensues in a way nobody expected, least of all Deceit.

Chapter 4: Deserving of Comfort

Chapter summary: Janus has been avoiding the others for a couple of days. When he finally emerges for a simple lunch and gets caught by Patton the results are better than he was expecting.

Warnings: mild angst, if there’s more please let me know.

Taglist (ask to be added or removed): @a-different-s1de @emo–nightmare

General taglist (ask to be added or removed): @janus-is-an-adorable-snek-boi  @im-an-anxious-wreck

WC: 1,708

For Janus, a simple cheese sandwich with yellow mustard would always be the superior lunch. It was easy and quick to make, it was all yellow- which definitely wasn’t a bias on his part- and it was a thing that made very little noise when putting it together or eating it. It was definitely something he liked more when the need to be stealthy arose but he still wanted to eat. Not to say he wanted to avoid anyone, he just would rather not see and/or speak to a certain side at the moment so that certain topics could remain unspoken about for the time being. Certainly the opposite of avoidance if one was desperate to put a label to it.

Still, the reptilian side couldn’t help but sneak glances over his shoulder now and then as he spread the mustard quickly but carefully over the bread and reached in the thin plastic bag for the cheese. Two slices slapped in the middle in the bread would do; then close it, close the bag, put everything back in the fridge and he was home- or rather room free. Just as he was opening the fridge he heard the whooshing of someone sinking in nearby, causing him to panic and slam the door shut accidentally. Cursing he turned just as Patton walked into the room, making him groan internally as one of the last sides he wished to see at the moment blinked at him in surprise before grinning wide and giving a small wave.

“Hey kiddo, I was wondering when I’d see you! It’s been a couple of days, I was starting to worry.”

Pressing his lips together, Janus took the time to properly close the drawer before he thought better of it and turned back around. “Sandwich Patton?”

“Oh sure! Thank you.” Patton settled down at the table with his hands tucked underneath his thighs looking like he wanted to talk but not really knowing how to start. Ignoring this Janus took the ingredients out again with the addition of ham since he knew the other liked it, bringing down another plate as the silence stretched between them.

“I’m not a kiddo Patton, I’m older than you.” As harsh as he meant it to sound there was no bite in his words as he finished the second sandwich, putting all the ingredients back into the fridge.

Patton chuckled. “I know. Just habit I guess. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

From his expression Janus could tell he actually hadn’t but he was still weary. There was a reason he kept his stress relief to himself- even Virgil was never meant to know about it. Yet here he was, two other people knowing without him saying anything and so far he really had no clue where he stood with either of them about it- and he certainly wasn’t about to suggest they all sit down to talk about it, hypocrite as it was. He could push Thomas to talk until he was hoarse, make sure the other sides knew the importance of communication until he was blue in the face, but when it came to himself and especially when it came to something like this he was the last one to want to open up about anything. It was the simple fact that the outcome of someone knowing was unknown and saying his name had been bad enough. Certain things were with keeping close to one’s chest- and something that made him- the embodiment of self preservation itself- feel vulnerable and small both literally and metaphorically was definitely something worth keeping to himself

Taking a deep breath he decided to cut the awkward air preemptively and bring it up himself, since he was sure that was why Patton was trying and failing to remain still as he ate his lunch.

“I wanted to thank you for not...for not saying anything to anyone else. Logan knowing was unexpected but I appreciate you- both of you- keeping my private affairs...private.”

Patton scrunched his face. “You’re talking about it like it’s a bad thing.”

“I am fully aware that it isn’t and I’m not saying that how either of you reacted to it would have influenced me in any way. I was just-” Janus swallowed his last bite thoughtfully as he considered how honest he wanted to be with the fatherly side. “...nervous, I suppose. For me, this kind of thing is akin to saying my true name and well, we both know how that turned out.”

Wincing, Patton nodded as he finished his own sandwich, getting up and taking Janus’ plate to the sink. “I know you told us your name as a last ditch effort for us to listen, and I know it was by complete accident that I saw you small at all, so for what it’s worth I’m sorry you’re being forced to put trust somewhere it isn’t really owed.”

Janus opened his mouth to disagree with Patton, to say that it was fine and that he had wanted to tell them his name, that it had been his choice. He wanted to say that Patton seeing him as a four year old crying because he didn’t want to eat carrots was okay actually, that he didn’t mind and it wasn't a big deal but for once he hesitated before lying. This wasn’t something to lie about- to brush aside as if it didn’t matter because it did. Two of his most closely guarded secrets were out because of circumstances he could only partly control and it hurt more than he would ever care to say. It wasn’t okay, it really truly wasn’t, and to have Patton acknowledge that was making him feel things he didn’t have the energy to process just yet. He knew he should have just asked Virgil to bring him something., but then he would’ve asked why and Janus would have had to tell him that Logan knew now and that he was up way past the time he should have been just to play with his dolls.

Shuddering at the thought his head snapped up as Patton turned around, offering a small hesitant smile as he leaned against the counter. “You have no reason to, but you can trust me. I might be loud and obnoxious at times, but I know my morals- at least more universal ones. Your secret will always be safe with me for as long as you want it to be.”

“Thank you Patton, truly.”

Janus hesitated. A hug would be nice but he didn’t want Patton giving him one out of pity or obligation; the other was notorious for putting others first at his own expense and for Thomas’ sake he didn’t want to enforce the behavior. Plus, even though he knew it was silly and untrue, he couldn’t let go of the notion that adults didn’t need hugs. Everybody needed physical reassurance at some point but it was just- weird to ask for it he supposed.

“I don’t- as much as I would love one I don’t think that’s necessary Patton thank you.”

“My offer still stands.” Patton squinted at him. “Big or little, everybody deserves hugs.”

“A little what?”

Both of them stiffened and turned to see Roman in the doorway looking between the two of them with suspicion. Janus' heart hammered in his chest even as he calmly folded his hands in front of him. How long had he been standing there? How much had he heard? Could he get away with a lie or would Patton open his mouth? Full offense to him but Janus figured he would forgive him for not fully trusting him to actually keep his mouth shut while under stress. Deciding to speak first in case the other did crack under pressure he lifted his chin and smirked.

“My tone had come across wrong and he simply told me to lighten up a little.” Raising his eyebrows at the Prince he decided to jab just a little- he had nearly given him a heart attack after all. “Very astute advice for all of us.”

Roman scowled at him and moved towards the fridge as Janus shot Patton a pointed look that made the other quickly snap his mouth shut, thankfully foregoing whatever it was that he felt he needed to add. Now was not the time and Janus was not in the mood for a half-hearted scolding to be nicer; he doubted Roman would appreciate it either. The kitchen was quiet as Roman grabbed out a plate of leftover pizza and let the fridge slam shut after him as he sunk out, making Janus roll his eyes at his antics. He had honestly thought Virgil was the most dramatic when it came to pouting over fights that had long since ended, and even if it was both parties that were in the wrong it didn’t make the others temper tantrums any less infuriating.

“You shouldn’t antagonize him.” Paton’s voice was a bit small, his shoulders drooped in a way that almost made Janus feel guilty before he brushed it aside. Everything would sort itself out eventually it would just take time. Even so-

“I know, but by god if he doesn’t make it hard not to.”

Snorting, Patton only shook his head. “I’m serious though. If you need comfort, regressed or not, you can come to me or Logan and I’m sure you know Virgil would be there for you if you needed it.”

Janus looked away quickly at that, biting his lip before he could say anything. In lieu of answering he simply opened his arms and hoped it would get him out of whatever conversation Patton was hinting at having. Huffing out a breath as he was embraced and squeezed he wrapped his arms around the other and sank gratefully into the warmth. Sitting in the embrace he allowed himself to think that maybe things wouldn’t be as bad as he thought they would be- barring Roman- the “light” side of the mindscape was a pleasant place to be. He could see why Virgil had moved over.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Janus gripped Patton’s shoulders a little bit tighter. “Thank you.”

“No problem kiddo.”

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#false writes #dee little snake #janus sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #sanders sides fic #sanders saides #sanders sides agre #age regression #mild angst

[gyllenhaalstories]

imagine taking rapper jake home to meet your parents.

i’m so sorry for the delay, anon! <3 buckle up, it got long and i’m emo!!!!! lil jakey jakes meeting your parents was not something i thought i’d cry about right now but here i am. i listened to nothing’s gonna hurt you baby by cigarettes after sex if you want to vibe with me!

<3

jake swore he was about to shit his pants when you reminded him of the dinner with your parents.

he ran all over his house, searching for nothing and everything at oncel. one second it was his tie, the next his phone and after that his keys. he was just so terrified. he wanted to leave a good impression.

he dressed up like he was going to the oscars. he put on a suit, a new one he got tailored to his body just for the occasion. he covered all of his tattoos, with those long sleeves. he hid his chain under the color of the shirt you buttoned lovingly. he went to the barbershop too, he got a fresh cut and his beard neat. he looked like a movie star and even if this was not the man with whom you fell in love, you still loved this new persona.

“you’re so stressed that i’m stressed” you’d scream at him while he paced around the bedroom as you put on a simple outfit, some jeans and a button up shirt too. dresses felt too formal. it was your parents, not the pope. “we’re not going. i’m calling them and i’ll say i’m sick”.

jake stopped moving and protested. “if i wanna ask your father for your hand, i better know how he looks like first. if he likes golf, i’m out”.

the joke was unexpected, but it made both of you laugh. he kept bringing up marriage. it was like a running gag, but it felt more and more real. one day you would be called mrs gyllenhaal. and this day would not happen if you died from a heart attack because you couldn’t face the judgement of your parents.

so jake waited for you in the car. he picked a black jaguar, he didn’t want to be too obnoxious. he had the head lights shining bright and blinked them so you pretended to walk like a model and twirl in front of the car before you sat on the passenger seat. “so fuckin’ gorgeous.” jake said and noticed you, too, wore the chain he got you for your birthday. he stretched his arm out to play with it lightly and then proceeded to drive to your parents’ house.

he stopped in the drive way. it was a tiny home, very old with a bunch of flower pots that were wrapped up for the winter. it was lovely already. jake stopped the car and took deep breaths.

“you sound like you’re about to get into labor”

“it’s a neat trick you’ll have to try it”

and you both breathed fast like two freaks in the car while the music was playing in the background. some U2 song. it calmed the two of you down. when you got out of the car, jake immediately grabbed your hand. he needed the comfort.

you were about to ring the door bell when your mother slammed the door open and wrapped you in a tight hug.

jake smiled and looked behind her. he waved at your father.

“mom, dad, this is my boyfriend, jake. jake, this is my mom and dad.”

“hi mom, hi dad” jake replied and it made the two of them laugh.

jake wanted to bring champagne and flowers, but you convinced him to not do too much. your parents were simple people. they would be happy as long as jake didn’t tease you from under the table (the jeans were definitely a good option) or mentioned politics. 

“our daughter has told us a lot about you” your mother said “yeah, we heard you are a singer? isn’t that the dream” your father added

“yeah.” jake smiled awkwardly and took a sip from the glass of water you both shared. you were sitting on his lap, on the love seat of the small living room. your parents asked him tons of questions. he answered them genuinely. he asked them questions too. he was relieved to find out your father preferred hockey to golf.

you sat around the table. it was weird that the fourth chair of the dining table was finally used.

none of your previous relationships lasted long enough to reach this level of intimacy. sex was one thing, but meeting your parents? that was a HUGE deal.

jake behaved like the best man in the world. he complimented the food. it was just simple spaghetti and storebought garlic bread. but it tasted like love and home. he asked for two other plates. your mom even reached to wipe his chin from the tomato sauce.

it filled him with joy. he had a tough relationship with his own family and he felt like he fit right in with yours.

you watched jake with heart eyes. he was so happy to explain his art and craft to your father who kept asking him if he had met blake shelton or the backstreet boys. you know, hip people. jake laughed and shook his head. he didn’t bother explaining that he sang about filthy things the two of you did. he was happy they considered his job as valid. he was not a carpenter or a doctor. but he was happy to spoil you nonetheless.

“you’re doing great” you’d whisper to jake.

everything was fine. until your mom pulled out the baby photos albums. THE SHAME.

“look at that tiny baby booty!” jake pointed and melted. “toohtless! that gums only look, can’t wait to see it again when we’re old and grumpy.” he pulled out a photo. you were wearing matching ugly yellow zipped hoodie and plaid pants. you were holding a teddy bear of the same colour as the one he got you for your birthday. behind the photography it was written happy y/n at the park with her best friend. he asked if he could keep it. your parents agreed. (it was his phone home screen from now on, your lock screen being a post sex glow photo when he could see a tiny drop of cum at the corner of your eye, it was still cute to him). “so she’s always been bad at cooking?” he said and laughed when you found a picture of you and your grandparents where you held a plate of burnt cookies. “hey, not cool! i was only seven!” you pushed him gently. “look at you now, you burn bread in the toaster”. your parents were the ones who melted now.

“so, jacob...”

jake insisted that it was fine your father called him by his full name.

the two of you were so stressed out. the tone of your father’s voice was suddenly heavy and scary.

“yeah?”

“does it hurt to get tattoos?”

jake squinted and you coughed loud enough to cover the whispered what the fuck that came out of his open mouth. his sleeves were rolled up and exposing the ink. “i mean, yeah, it hurts a lot. it’s worth it though. i feel like an art collector.”

“in my young days, i’ve always wanted a tattoo. i got the concept. this lovely lady as a pin up girl, quite impressive, huh?.” he winked at your mom who blushed while you tried everything you could not to throw up.

jake rolled his sleeve a little higher and pointed at a spot near the veins of the inside of his arm, close to the elbow. he got the outline of a heart tattooed. you noticed how wobbly the lines were, that’s because it was the heart you always drew at the end of your notes that you left him when you were gone or when he was out working. “that’s my favourite.”

THE WAY YOU JUST BURST INTO TEARS and your mom shouted “time for dessert!”

great timing.

“our daughter told us you loved m&m’s”.

jake turned to look at you. you shrugged.

your mother came back with chocolate cake on which she had sprinked crushed m&m pieces on the frosting.

jake asked to get the biggest slice. “that’s the best fuckin’ cake i’ve had in my whole life.” (which was a lie because the best cake was your ass but details) he said, his mouth full. your mother laughed and your father agreed. they began talking about hockey when your mother asked for your help in the kitchen.

“if we learned anything from you,” she started and handed you a plate to dry. you hated to do the dishes, especially if you were to be lectured like a child. “it’s to never judge people by their covers. we love jake. he’s good to you. you’re good to him.”

you hugged your mom and the two of you cried so loudly that jake dropped his spoon. he thought something bad happened. that you cut yourself with the butter knife or something.

“welcome to the family, jake.” your father squeezed jake’s shoulder as you walked back to him to press a kiss on his cheek.

it was now time to leave, after hours and hours of anecdotes from your childhood or from the time you were convinced you’d marry brad pitt or when you put eyeshadow in your hair to act like you dyed them to be punk but it was raining that day and you came back looking like a sad frosty rainbow.

“you’re my favourite person.” jake told you when he gave you his vest as a coat. it was chilly outside.

you all hugged and shook hands, promising to come back soon for brunch. jake told them he’d make his famous pancakes.

“hold on!” jake exclaimed and pulled you by the arm. you followed him back in the kitchen and he fed you a spoon of the cake. you fed him one in return again. “tastes almost as good as your pussy” he whispered in your ear and kissed your chocolate covered lips.

you finally left the house, waving from the car at your parents who stood on the porch. they seemed satisfied. and you? you had never been more in love.

“can’t wait to rip those tight jeans off your body and fuck you like a bitch.” jake winked and started to drive away. “i’m looking forward to the toothless viagra boosted blowjobs too, that’s gonna feel divine.” 

you slapped his thigh and he moaned in pain. you rested your hand there and he brought it to his lips, planting a soft kiss.

“welcome to the family.” you repeated.

#Anonymous #topic: rapper!jake #series: southpaw

[honeydots]

200. “He loves you, you know? He’s just afraid of admitting it.” ~~ This has some Vibes and I kinda like them so? I'd like 2 humbly request your take on this w/ shukita or akeshu if it's ok to ask for!! -- dorky-arsene (a sideblog)

“He loves you, you know? He’s just afraid of admitting it”

Hello no I didn’t forget about these I am just slower than a little baby turtle!!!!! Anyway

Summary: Goro’s new job leads him to discover that dealing with both a crush and an idiot while flipping burgers is, unarguably, the worst turn his life could’ve taken.

cw: sexual themes (+p5r spoilers)

-

(ao3 link)

-

“Hello! Would you like to try our Big Bang Special Combo Shot-Straight-Through Promotional Meal for ‘Thy Father of Corruption 2: The Daughter of Rejection’ for ¥850?”

Goro wanted to quit. 

You need this job. You need this job. He’d repeat to himself each time a customer decided they were feeling peckish. You will have no money if you quit and then you will have no home and then you will drop out of college and then you will die. 

He’d left the police department after graduating. With his past plans of an 18-year life expectancy having slipped down the drain, he hardly had a reason to stay. High school had been an uphill battle with cases of murder and robbery breathing down his neck, and he’d hesitated to even make an attempt at trying to juggle his priorities in university. Dropping the detective gig meant dropping the media attention, too, which gave him breathing room he certainly knew he needed, but never really had. 

The problem was, after three years of fading out of fame and living off his savings, he realized this wouldn’t stretch as far as he’d predicted. He hadn’t accounted nearly enough for the expenses that came with the unwelcome enforcement of trying to live as a proper human being. His bank account was growing meager. If he wanted to keep living (which was arguable) in the way that he was (which he did) he’d need an income. Almost anything would do, as long as it would bend and break to his schedule. 

And, all things considered, he technically had connections here. And ever since… that, the pay had actually increased to a respectable amount. The management had rehired, retrained, and improved. It was fast food, but it was livable. Nothing shameful about being livable. 

And god fucking dammit he had already done three interviews with no hires and he needed food other than half-cooked ramen noodles and bread slices. 

“Can I get you anything else, sir?” 

That didn’t mean he didn’t loathe every minute.

It was bad enough that he had a job at Big Bang Burger. And, bad enough that he’d been desperate to get it. It was bad enough that he had to bring in his homework like some anguished used-to-be honors student now getting barely passing marks. And christ, it was bad enough each time a customer would walk in, a hamburger-shaped icepick would slam itself into his frontal lobe, forever ingraining the memory of his premeditated brain murder of the former CEO of this very restaurant. 

All of that, and he couldn’t stress this more, was bad enough. It was entirely shitty all around. Completely awful, and damming, and humbling, though he hated to admit it. He’d like to say it couldn’t get any worse. That this was the end of the line, get off the train before it turns around, don’t get stuck in the never ending cycle of beef patties and sesame seed buns. 

But, god, of all the coworkers. 

“Ya know,” said Sakamoto, leaning down on the front counter after their customer had left,  “I dunno if clenching your teeth like you’ve got peanut butter stuck in there counts as ‘service with a smile.’” 

Sakamoto Ryuji. The boy who had the opposite of a filter, and more like a megaphone spewing recordings of every profanity in the Japanese language. He, who had walked in on Goro’s second day and loudly declared, ‘I thought I smelled something, what’s this a-hole doing here?’ Really, who else could he tolerate spending eight-hour shifts with; greasy stoves, piss poor customers, and the ruthless scent of lysol on tile included?

Ah, right. Anyone else. 

Goro pressed his lips together. “Hm. Well you know, I was almost certain that elbows on the counter was a fireable offense.” 

Sakamoto snatched himself up in a second, elbows up high. He hung there and looked around the empty restaurant. 

He pouted. “Not cool, dude. That’s only when there’s customers.”

Goro raised his eyebrows. He was really just going to stand there? He looked like an idiot, or a chicken. A hybrid that, if anyone could pull off, would be him. He was making a great show of it, too. 

Sakamoto narrowed his eyes. “Unless you’re a snitch.” 

Goro spoke in his most syrupy sweet voice. “Are you implying then, that your job is in my hands? An entertaining thought, Sakamoto.” If it were only that simple to really get him fired. Unfortunately, their manager seemed to love his enthusiasm. Every moment he spent enthusiastically mopping floors and singing into the handle was a moment Goro could’ve been writing soliloquies of his growing and newfound hatred for Carly Rae Jepsen. 

Sakamoto folded his arms in a huff. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about, man! Look at that fake-ass smile.” He shook his head. “And I get customer service blows and stuff, but you use it for everything. Lighten up dude! Take a break.”

Sakamoto said things with such confidence, such surety. It made his teeth grind. 

“I’d prefer to keep my job,” Goro said, and gave him the sweet smile Sakamoto was arguing against. “Though, if you’d like to pay my rent for me, you’re more than welcome.” 

He acted like he hadn’t even heard him.“Maybe it’s ‘cause you’re so gloomy all the time, your face just doesn’t know how to work it. Look it, check me out.” Sakamoto pointed his thumb at himself and flashed a toothy smile. “Just like that! All natural, bro. It’s easy. Come on, you really try it this time.” 

Goro very clearly did not. He stared with his most obsolete and ‘stop-trying-to-have-a-conversation-with-me’ look he could muster. He’d communicate it telepathically, if given the chance. 

“That doesn’t look like trying to me,” Sakamoto said expectantly. 

Couldn’t they just sit in silence and wait for their fabrication of getting-along time when the next inevitable customer came in? “Perhaps, and please let me know if this is too complicated, I simply have no intention of trying, because I don’t believe there’s anything to fix.” 

“Nah, that’s not it,” replied Sakamoto, as if he was being thoughtful.

Another reason why he was completely obnoxious was because the longer they knew each other, the less that Goro’s flawless stone faced looks worked. Sakamoto kept spewing hot air. He’d gained some kind of tolerance, and it was tedious to work around. 

Sakamoto leaned back down, previous elbow warnings forgotten. “I bet you’re the kinda guy who’s super ticklish, so you act all boring so no one suspects it.”

“I’m not,” Goro snapped. 

“Quick reply there, buddy.” 

Goro didn’t answer to that. He didn’t owe it to him. This was pointless; why did Sakamoto find such pleasure in talking about pointless things? 

He slouched further down. “So it’s silent treatment now. You’re checking all the boxes over here.” He waved his finger through the air. “Check, n’ check, n’, check.” 

Goro was getting a headache. “I don’t want to talk about this.” 

“Betcha you’re super ticklish. And like, one of those cry-laughers.” 

“Sakamoto, did you hear what I just said.” 

He stretched up from his position on the counter. “Like if I poke you in the side, I bet it would make ya jump.” 

“Do not.” He could just try it. Goro would bend his finger back so far it’d break. He wondered if that would be a viable option to get him to stop talking sometime. 

“Didn’t say I was gonna.” He rested his arms behind his neck. “You’re just proving my point more, though.” 

Sakamoto was annoyingly stubborn at times. Once he found a niche with Goro, he’d hack his way in and grab on like a tick. Bother him like it was his last chance he’d ever get, as if they didn’t work shifts together four times a week. He was bound to get lyme disease at this rate.  

Goro felt like a very frustrated pair of tweezers.“Can we talk about anything else, please?”

Sakamoto went quiet. He was just looking at him now. Goro tensed up. Was he really going to try and poke him? He meant it, he’d break his hand. 

“Ya know, there is something I wanna talk to you about,” he said.

Goro did not like the sound of that. “Oh really.” He tried to sound like he was just told he was about to be given a lecture on the intricacies and details of lentil soup. Which, perhaps could be more interesting than whatever topic Sakamoto was about to pull out of his ass. 

Sakamoto sniffed. “Yup. It’s about Akira.” 

Oh, he really didn’t like where this was going. “Sakamoto, I—” 

“When’re ya gonna like, confess.” 

Goro visibly winced. Dammit. He knew he’d bring this up one day. He was absolutely infuriated Sakamoto knew about that, and he hadn’t even told him. He’d been making guesses and Goro had been just tired enough during his shift to let a hint of a sigh out, and Sakamoto had taken that to new heights. Another example of conversations being had that Goro would’ve just about died to get out of. 

Sakamoto was still staring at him. Didn’t he have anything better to do? Goro knew they didn’t at this good for nothing job, but what was so hard about just acting like you’re busy. You’re pretending then, at least, and that’s something. 

“Well, dude?” asked Sakamoto. 

Any conversation is better than that one.

Mother of fuck. 

“I…” Goro started, adjusting a piece of his hair, “I suppose I am a little ticklish.”

Sakamoto’s face lit up. “Dude, for real? Called it,” he said triumphantly. Had Goro not known him as well as he did, he’d think the divergence in conversation was a trick to get him to admit he was a bit… touchy. But he did know him, and he wasn’t one for games like that.

“Most people are, it shouldn’t be a surprise. It’s skin sensitivity, nothing more.” 

Sakamoto shrugged. “Still funny you admitted to it.” 

Sure. Very hilarious. Yet another fact Sakamoto now knows about him that he’d really have rather not shared under any circumstance. 

“Satisfied, now?” Goro asked, but it wasn’t really a question. He didn’t plan on expanding, this was embarrassing enough as it was. 

“Nope,” he replied, “cause that’s great and all, but I really gotta know the game plan.” He leaned in close to Goro, and he in turn leaned farther away.

“There’s no ‘game plan,’ Sakamoto. Please don’t get so close to me.” 

“Yeah, yeah, sorry.” He moved back, obviously not finished. “Come on, though, you gotta have something.” And back down on the counter he slouched. 

‘Something,’ he’d said. Yes, and that something was to keep his mouth shut and go about his life keeping each and every one of those mortifying feelings to himself. It was humiliating enough that Sakamoto knew. Telling Akira? He didn’t even want to imagine it. He’d rather face Okumura-san herself and ask her to buy one of their Shot-Straight-Through combo meals. 

“There’s nothing. And I don’t plan there to be anything. And, it’s not really much of your business, is it?” Goro could feel himself growing irritated. 

Sakamoto melted further into the counter. “I just don’t get why you’re not gonna ask him out if you like him. You might as well, man, it’ll be fine.” 

What simple ways of thinking. Do this, get that in return. Black and white, and right and wrong. Spill your fleeting moment of vulnerability and try not to think about the extensive hole of commitment you’re burying yourself in. One turn of phrase, one word, one misplaced breath to Akira would forever rupture the sorry excuse of acquaintanceship they’d been flip flopping through for the past three years. Akira was a blank slate and simultaneously the person he knew best. He knew him, but didn’t really, and he could never tell what he was thinking. Suddenly he was gambling again, and this time it came entirely unwelcome. Risks you face before death and risks that you’ll keep living through no matter the outcome tasted different. One was tangy and sweet and thrilling, the other was bitter  shit. Not to mention that Akira was too kind to him for his own good. He couldn’t even tell what was a lie. 

But, Sakamoto didn’t need to know all that. “You say that like there’s nothing to consider. As if I’ve never even given this thought. You do not belong in my head, Sakamoto. And I do not need to give you, an obvious outsider on the entire dilemma, any sort of justification for why I’m going to continue to abstain on something as trivial as a confession.” 

Sakamoto huffed at him. “What if I said that I gua-ran-tee he’s not gonna say no to you.”

Goro was already sick of this. What, had Sakamoto expected his heart to skip? His pulse to rise? That just the very thought of mutual feelings would send him into some flustered mess? Please. He told the tingling feeling going up through his legs and down his arms and up the back of his neck to shut the fuck up. 

He couldn’t stay quiet for long. Sakamoto could and would get ideas. “Then why doesn’t he just tell me that himself? Why are you playing wingman for him?” 

“Cause he’s not gonna say anything cause he’s got to be worried that he’s gonna freak you and your crazy attachment issues out!” 

Of course, there it was. The blind bet. Sakamoto’s one-way thinking at it again, and Goro would not have it. “I’m not going to start playing some game with him about the complexities of whatever idea of consent he has in his head. I don’t need his sympathy, and I am certainly not looking for it. I don’t have time for something messy and half-assed. I don’t want that, and surely he doesn’t, either. If he feels any way about me, he’d ought to tell me, because then maybe we’d find some kind of leeway. But I will not let him sit there and wait for me to make the first move, like a key element in his plan. This is not some teenage romance, and I am not a caricature of his love life. He can wait patiently all he’d like, but I’m perfectly content as I am now.” 

Sakamoto seemed a little stunned. 

“Man, he’s just…” He trailed off. They sat in silence. 

So ways still existed to get Sakamoto to stop rambling on. He was sure he’d regret saying this later, for a multitude of reasons. He didn’t hate Sakamoto, even saying dislike felt strong, but he always talked about things that Goro had no interest nor inclination to discuss. Maybe silence was for the best between them, for now. 

“He loves you, you know? He’s just afraid of admitting it. That’s all it is, dude,” said Sakamoto. 

Goro inhaled. So he wasn’t done, then. ��Love… is an entirely different conversation.” 

“Okay, fine, you want me to say he ‘like-likes’ you like some fifth grader? Cause he does.” 

Goro didn’t reply. He’d made his point. 

“He isn’t playing one of your weirdo mind games,” Sakamoto continued. “I think you’re thinking too hard about this. He’s just a guy. He just wants to make sure you’re all comfortable and shit. Cause it’s not like we don’t all know the bullshit that was goin’ on for you.”

“I am not looking for his pity.” A fine thing to say while working at a Big Bang Burger in a bright yellow shirt and starred apron. It didn’t matter. He didn’t wear this with pride, per say, but he wouldn’t ask someone to feel sorry for him.

He didn’t exactly want to be seen, either. Especially not Akira, but of course he’d make habits of visiting. That was just like him, and it was just like his pity, too. 

Sakamoto looked frustrated. “He ain’t pitying you, man! He’s tryin’ to respect you! He knows you got things to go through on your own and he’s trying to give you space and everything.” 

Goro clicked his tongue. “If you know that’s his tactic, why are you trying to pressure me into this?” 

“Cause I don’t care, dude!” Sakamoto said, and then stopped himself, and promptly looked very guilty. “Well, okay. I do care. Like, I do. But sometimes…” He looked like he was trying to pick his words out carefully. He had an idea, just no way to form it.

He settled. “Sometimes, you just gotta get laid, man.” 

At this point, Goro found himself shocked that he wasn’t banging his own head against the counter. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You’re twenty one years old! Dude, I know you haven’t gotten any,” Sakamoto argued. “Your gay ass with emotional problems? Get outta here.” 

“This is not—”  

Sakamoto put his hands up nonshalontly. “And like, yeah, no judgey stuff, take your time if you gotta. But have you considered it? Tell me. I betcha you haven’t.”

Goro opened his mouth, expecting to reply with an incredibly well thought out ‘fuck off,’ but the automatic doors slid open, and suddenly Goro was all smiles and greetings, so what came out instead was, “Hello! Welcome to Big Bang Burger! Would you—ah.” 

Sakamoto snorted loudly, and Goro wanted to kick him so bad. 

And actually, what was stopping him? Sakamoto had earned this, and it’s not like this customer would care. 

Because, who else could’ve been just about summoned by the trouble than Kurusu Akira himself; strolling in so casually through the doors, like he hadn’t just become the most unpleasant topic of conversation Goro had ever had with Sakamoto. Speak of the devil was an understatement, or perhaps he was the devil himself. 

“What the eff, man!” 

“Hey you two,” said Akira, hands in his pockets and clearly bagless. He didn’t even register Goro’s kick, like that was just some normal occurrence. Somehow, that made him angrier. 

“Yo,” said Sakamoto, recovering annoyingly quickly. Goro wondered if he should’ve considered breaking his finger. 

Sakamoto reached out to Akira for a fist bump. “You don’t have the cat with ya?” 

Akira bumped him back. “Nope. Just me today.” 

“Sweet,”  Sakamoto replied, a smile growing wide. Goro hated the look. It was the hungriest and most dastardly shit-eating grin he’d ever seen him dare to make. So, knowing Sakamoto and his terrible poker face, he had thought up some idiotic ploy. 

“What’s up with you?” Akira asked, and thank god it wasn’t directed at Goro. Sakamoto’s obviousness did not go unnoticed. 

“Oh nothin’, nothin’,” said Sakamoto, entirely conspicuously, “I gotta go, though, grind never stops. Super secret stuff in the back.” 

Goro glared at him. So now he would pretend to be busy? 

“Burger secrets,” Akira said, and Ryuji gave him a finger gun in reply. He walked off without a word, but apparently felt the inclination to jerk his head back at Goro, as if he didn’t know what he was doing. 

He sighed. No amount of alone time would ever compel Goro to confess at a Big Bang Burger, of all places. At least Akira tended to be a little more bearable in conversation. He hoped he’d be an in and out customer. “Can I get you anything?” 

Akira looked at him for a moment. “You look flustered.” 

Goro felt himself twitch. He wasn’t flustered, like some preteen who can’t hear the word genital without bursting into laughter. If anything, Sakamoto had caught him off guard with his stupidity. He obviously was not one to be so affected by such a topic. He was an adult, and a professional. He would again not think about the fact he was wearing an orange visor right now. 

“I’m positive that isn’t a menu item,” he replied, keeping his pleasant smile plastered on, keeping any stray annoyance from showing. 

Akira examined him closer. “Do you have a fever or something? You look red.”

Goro drummed his fingers against the counter impatiently. What was he supposed to say? Sorry, Akira, Sakamoto just decided to kindly push the image of you railing me as a form of twisted therapy into the forefront of my consciousness. Would you like any drinks?

“I’m fine. I’m not the type to go to work sick,” he decided on instead. 

“Really?” He didn’t seem convinced. 

Goro folded his arms. “While living in a society where health is determined by the trust of the majority, I have no plans to spread my germs to an unsuspecting businessman, in that I expect the same from him.”

Akira considered that for a moment. “So you’re embarrassed, then.” 

Goro’s expression turned sour. He was not in the mood for a debate. “Everyone seems to be presuming things today, have I missed a memo?” 

Akira didn’t miss a beat. “Ryuji said something?” 

Goro dragged his fingernails into his palm. He was hardly being that obvious, he wasn’t a bumbling idiot who couldn’t keep a straight face. Akira was just acutely good at reading people, (namely, reading him) and it drove Goro up the wall. It was unfair, for one thing, since Akira continued to maintain blank expressions in the face of clowns and hookers, keeping his inner thoughts kept behind lock and key. And, as of more recently, he was the one person Goro really desperately wanted to hide every wandering emotion from possible. Just his luck, fall for the bastard who analyzes people as a side job for his savior-complex living. 

This was making him more frustrated. “Would you just order?” 

Akira looked at the menu, but Goro knew it was bullshit. He ordered the same thing every time— a shake and a burger, no tomatoes. He certainly already knew what he wanted, but was just causing trouble in the meantime. What an annoyance. Goro punched it in, and made no moves to go and cook. If Sakamoto was going to have his “business” in the back, then he could stay there and do his job. 

“Sit over there, we’ll bring it to you when it’s done,” he said, and Akira silently obliged. He gave a small smile before he turned, leaving Goro completely alone with his thoughts as he sat at his table and scrolled through his phone. 

He couldn’t believe the timing of Sakamoto’s distasteful comment to Akira’s unseasonable entrance. Things always seemed to fall into place with Goro, just not the right places. The right place, but a little down, and to the left, the left, he said. He wished Sakamoto would mind his own business, let him quietly pine until his untimely death; which kept getting put off, might he add. 

Sakamoto emerged from the back end of the restaurant. He was holding the bag of presumably Akira’s food, and his shake. He waved them enthusiastically. 

“Go on, dude,” he smirked. 

Goro was blunt. “No.” He’d pissed him off enough today. He wasn’t going to walk over there and serve the food. Sakamoto’s little idea of love, romance and marriage in a burger joint would have to wait. Ideally, it would get itself stuck in wet concrete, and drown way down under where no one could see it and where the light of day would never reach. 

Sakamoto seemed to catch his drift. “Jeez, fine. Huffy, huffy.” 

He walked over to Akira with a spring in his step, and they started chatting idly. Goro couldn’t hear. In all honesty, he was trying to tune them out. His headache was growing worse. Pounding in his head, every light too bright and repetitive music blurring together his thoughts. And of course there was the elephant in the room, who was whispering to him Sakamoto’s crude suggestions, and the irritating notion that maybe he was right, just a little bit.

He needed to get himself together. He was acting like some horny teenager. Get fucked, you raunchy elephant. 

Sakamoto left to let him eat, and made a show of going back to the other end of the restaurant, all while wiggling his eyebrows at Goro. In turn, Goro made a show of rolling his eyes and planting himself facing away from Akira. It made Sakamoto laugh, for whatever reason, and Goro just ignored him. 

He watched the door idly and tried to relax. He’d been clenching his teeth, and his jaw ached. He tried to focus to get his headache to fade into obscurity. He couldn’t find much to concentrate on, was his issue. Other than the obvious, which he would ignore without remorse. He wanted to go home. No lights too bright there, no sloppily cleaned windows, and especially no crush (the word left a bad taste in his mouth. Boy who has left him emotionally compromised after giving him no reason to deny he had worth in the world and keeps him up at night thinking about the way he really tried to will him back into existence when he could, god, have anything else in the world, and he wanted him. Was that a better option?) sitting out of view, chewing quietly and doing absolutely nothing to draw so much attention to himself.  At home he could drown it all out in a cold bath, and let himself think of nothing but his numbing toes and pruning fingers. 

“Hey, catch,” Akira said, suddenly there and startling Goro out of his bathlike daydream. He tossed something onto the counter. Goro did not catch it. 

It was a napkin, all folded up in a careful way. It didn’t hold the shape well, but the intention was pretty clear. “Um. A crane?” 

“Yup. Present for you.” he started, rubbing his neck, and he had the nerve to look bashful. “I got bored.”

Goro hadn’t noticed him making it. Which, alright, did make sense, he was purposefully keeping his neck away from that entire half of the restaurant. “Sorry we aren’t quite the height of entertainment here.” Goro lightly touched its head. He didn’t know Akira knew how to make these. “Well, thank you, I guess.”

Akira pushed his glasses further up his nose. “You’re welcome to name him.”

“I think that I won’t.”

“That can be pretty trendy, too,” he replied. “I’ve gotta go. Class. Tell Ryuji I say bye.” 

“Bye, dude!” Sakamoto shouted from the back. There was that tiresome enthusiasm again. 

It made Akira smile.“Nevermind, then. See you.” 

Goro just barely lifted his hand by the wrist to wave. “Bye.” 

Akira turned, gave him a small trill of his fingers, and left. Sakamoto did not return to his exit, and Goro savored the moment. It was just him and the crane, now. 

It was pretty shoddy. Unfolding, and barely standing up on its own. Cheap paper napkins were not the ideal material for origami, it seemed. He watched it slowly fall apart, wings losing shape and the head relaxing into its neck. Akira had hardly stayed long, so that meant he was probably pretty good at this sort of thing. He wouldn’t have guessed. 

…He thought about how it might look on proper paper. The creases sharp and crisp, the ends pointed and still. What would Akira’s hands look like while they worked? He could hear the sounds of the folding, and the wedging, clean paper being bent and rippled. Delicate fingers, working through, meticulously checking every last inch. Sometimes a pinch, just where it’s needed. And then finished, folded tight, wrapped together in itself. Very quick work, with the touch of a hand. 

“The heck is that?” Sakamoto said, getting an actual jump out of Goro. 

“What?” he gasped, and took a second to collect his thoughts. At work. Sakamoto came back. In a Big Bang Burger. Headache present. Good fucking god. “It’s just…” He pressed his fingers into the side of his temple “It’s a paper crane. Akira made it.” 

Sakamoto let that sink in.“You tellin me you were just sitting here staring at the thing Akira made you?” 

“I wasn’t,” Goro replied, trying desperately to catch his breath as casually as possible. 

“Uh, you literally were.” Sakamoto got uncomfortably close to him again. Goro physically moved away, because now was not the time. 

It didn’t deter Sakamoto whatsoever. He put his hands on his hips and gave an annoying grin. “Bro, you gotta tell him… You’ve obviously got it preeetty bad.” 

Goro was fed up with this. This conversation needed to end, or he thought he might explode. “I don’t ‘have it bad,’ Sakamoto, stop bringing this up.” 

Sakamoto smirked at him. “You so do though, is the thing.” 

“I don’t. Leave me alone.”

He shrugged his shoulders, and kept his mouth shut. He was acting so haughty, like he’d won the argument. Which, he hadn’t, for the record. 

That stupid crane. All it’d done was make things worse. And what was it even doing? Sitting here crumbling away into uselessly folded paper. A cheap napkin made of other recycled cheap napkins. Clean and crisp paper was a long sought after dream, a fantasy and nothing more. 

You know, this was just it, really. This is what he meant. Akira would try and fold him up and he’d inevitably fall back down. He didn’t know just what fantastic method he’d try, but it wouldn’t matter— he was made of what he was made of, and nothing would hold him up. Trying was pointless, risking for naught, it would be better for everyone if he stayed just how he was and didn’t overstay his use. 

He would not fit into Akira’s plans or his pities. He couldn’t. 

“…Bruh. What does that even mean.” 

Ah? “What?“ No. He had not said that out loud. Sakamoto did not just hear all that nonsense. 

Sakamoto was giving him a funny look. “You’re not a napkin, man.” 

God, shit. Shit shit shit. “I— I know that, this is just—“ The unpleasant feeling of blood rushing to his face was just as intolerable as it was unpreventable. 

“For real? Cause you sure sounded like you were calling yourself a napkin.” 

Absolutely unbelievable. How unruly was he that he’d just spouted all that like it was nothing? He couldn’t believe he had to explain himself now, but letting him get ideas was undeniably worse. “It’s supposed to be… symbolic, Sakamoto.” 

He could practically see the gears turning in his head. That wasn’t something difficult to understand, you dunce. Every second of this humiliating scene felt like a knife turning in his back. 

“Why does your brain work in such effed up ways. You gotta work on that,” Sakamoto said, not letting up his judgemental look.

He crossed his arms, trying to make his mortification appear like annoyance. “Don’t you start with me. As if you ever have something useful to say. At least I’m— I’m thinking, here.” 

That riled him up a bit. “I’m thinkin’! I almost flunked literature so maybe I’m not so good at this analysis stuff, but you know what? Hear me out.” Goro did not want to hear him out. He continued despite that. “I get it, you got your problems. But I really don’t think you callin’ yourself some shitty crane is fair, you know? Like, you’re a whole guy.”

He did not appreciate how genuine Sakamoto was acting. It was odd, and it felt awkward coming from him. He didn’t want to feel guilty for being rude to him earlier, either. Just another topic to bother him to sleep. 

Sakamoto went on. “Gahhh, it feels weird sayin’ this but like, you’re not a napkin, okay! And Akira doesn’t think so either. You’re more… complicated. Napkins don’t pay taxes or anything.” 

Ah, alright. So it was mostly bullshit. He could ease the guilt away in one fell swoop. 

Goro’s disinterest seemed to show itself well to Sakamoto. “Just, okay. Lemme get my thoughts here. You gotta like… be your own first step. I didn’t get my own shit sorted out until I actually tried to. And I’m not sayin it’s easy to do. But Imma tell you right now your first step is gonna be to stop thinking you’re a napkin or a bucket or a plate of green beans or whatever else you come up with. And I mean it, man.”

Goro knew he had things to say to that. He had thought out replies and phrases that Sakamoto would need more headspace to begin to understand. But none of them came to him. So he decided to stay threateningly quiet. 

It was well received. “Okay okay, you’re gettin’ mad, I can tell. I’m gonna take my break,” Sakamoto relented, and turned on his heel. “I ain’t really trying to tell ya what to do but give it a thinking about, alright? ‘Least for Akira’s sake,” he said over his shoulder, and left Goro almost more alone than before. 

It wasn’t even Akira’s sake Goro was worried about. Not in the way Sakamoto seemed to think. And he didn’t need to be told he wasn’t some inanimate object, he wasn’t that out of mind. 

Any sort of sensible argument would have to come to him after the fact, apparently. To tell him this wouldn’t be a “first step,” more like a hundredth. How many paces did crawling out of the hole he’d buried himself in count for? How many miles had he gone by now, barefoot and bleeding all the way. 

Such a stupid conversation. Needless, too, since for whatever reason his filter decided to leave him to fend for himself. Just another addition to this embarrassing excuse of a shift today. 

The paper crane sat still on the counter, though it hardly resembled one anymore. He almost felt bad. He had his typical pit in his stomach, but nothing exactly to pinpoint it on. Was he wallowing in that much self-loathing? 

Perhaps. 

Goro adamantly refused to have any more dramatic revelations at his part time job, so any introspections would have to come later. 

He put the crumpled crane in his pocket. It was certainly not going to be a crane once he took it out again, but he didn’t really know what else to do with it. Throwing it away felt wrong, to him. Though he wasn’t sure exactly what he was going to do with it when he got home. 

Akira hadn’t given this to him in hopes of causing some mental anguish. Or at least, he assumed so. Sakamoto had said he didn’t play mind games, but if not those, what was he doing? It felt better to know it was a game, in that way there was something about Akira’s mystery of a consciousness he could pry through. 

Was he reading into things? For sure. Reading too deeply into anything had been a talent of his for as long as he could remember. It had saved his life before, many times and in the most difficult of times. 

This crane wasn’t life threatening, but it felt like it was. Not in the thrilling way, but in the shitty way. 

His shift was over soon. Which reminded him, Sakamoto had surely already taken his break. He was a dip, but Goro preferred his own thoughts to any conversation they’d had today. And that was saying something, since getting out of his own head was a much needed relief that he’d take almost any chance he got. 

He was overthinking, and there was nothing he could do about it. He would continue to overthink until someone stole his brain and dunked it in acid. Where was the enjoyment otherwise? It was all he knew how to do. 

And even he didn’t overthink this— if Akira had given this to him in earnest and in playfulness, and if Sakamoto hadn’t been overtly pulling his leg through their shifts today. There wasn’t even anything remarkable about it. If there was a chance that maybe things were just okay, and getting better, and he wasn’t a living metaphor for a tissue. Oh just, say he invited him out for coffee, and Akira surprised him with a new little creation, less spur of the moment and made something almost sweet. He’d never drop his pride so low as to ask for a lesson, but if he did, maybe he could learn to make something, too. And maybe he wouldn’t hate every moment of it, and maybe he’d like getting so close, and maybe he’d appreciate the mistakes as much as the praises. 

…Hm.

That was just a fantasy, of course. And surely, nothing was all that great about it. Anything could go wrong in any number of ways, his own interventions just one category. 

Maybe it was the headache, or the dragging on shift, or the terrible lights, or the distant humming of his coworker, but Goro must’ve been caught off guard today. Because otherwise, why else would he have thought, not long and not convincingly, but still a thought as present as can be, that maybe, despite everything. 

It could be nice. Just for a little bit. Maybe that didn’t sound quite so bad. 

Not so bad at all. 

#it is shuake btw! #thank u for requesting this sorry i took ages #i hope you’ll enjoy it...... and sorry if youve been avoiding spoilers!!! #i know the games out but i also know not everyone has seen all the Content #but i will leave it at that #also its 6k cause i just dont know how to stop talking #my fics #my p5 fics #ask #dorky-arsene

[gamewise]

Osomatsu-kun Hachamecha Gekijou Review

(Author’s warning: the following game contains racially insensitive stereotypes. They are not present in these screencaps, and are not the effect of the game’s relatively low score. The game is a product of its time not just on a technical level, but on a cultural level. If you choose to read this review, massive spoiler alert: this is just not a good game, no matter how you slice it.)

In Japan, the Mega Drive debuted in October of 1988 with a whopping two titles available at launch; Space Harrier 2, and Super Thunder Blade. It wouldn’t take long for the humble 16-bit console to get its third title, a licensed game based on the Osomatsu-Kun manga which was about to get a new anime adaptation thanks to its popularity coming back. So you’re probably thinking this is a cheap cash-in title designed to promote the new anime, and I would like to say you’re right, but... actually, no, you’re right. Osomatsu-Kun Hachamecha Gekijou (Little Osomatsu: Nonsensical Theater) is a cheap cash-in that does more harm than good for the Mega Drive.

Before we dive into this game, let’s talk about Osomatsu-Kun itself. Osomatsu-Kun was a hugely popular manga about a group of trouble making sextuplets, who just so happen to all look the same. The manga ran for a whopping seven years back in the 60′s, receiving an anime adaptation at the peak of its popularity in 1966. In 1988, Studio Pierrot would bring forth a new anime adaptation that would see the sextuplets as side characters, with characters Iyami and Chibita, and their misadventures becoming more of the main focus. So seeing the side characters get thrust into the spotlight because they become popular is definitely nothing new, especially when the original manga did the same! So now that we have a new anime adaptation on the way, what are we getting for our video game cash in?

Well... just look at it. I know Japan is notorious for making some pretty surreal stuff, but Osomatsu-Kun Hachamecha Gekijou takes the fucking cake. You play as the oldest of the six brothers, and go on a quest to... uh, you know, I don’t think this game really has much of a story to it. You go through three different stages trying to get from point A to point B while you, armed with a slingshot, take out enemies based on other characters in Osomatsu-Kun, a lot of them being Chibita. And yes, you heard right, this game is only 3 stages long, so it should be quick and easy, right? Well... sit down, this game pads itself out in the worst possible way, and it managed to piss me off.

As you progress through a level, you may think it’s as simple as reaching the end of a stage... it’s not. Remember the infamous maze level in the Japanese Super Mario Bros. 2, or the one in Transformers Comvoy no Nazo? Well, there is a specific route you’re expected to take in this game, and it’s not clear. You’ll play this game going from point A to point B, but once you reach a certain point, the screen will just stop allowing you to move forward. You’ll see yourself before a pit, and think it’s instant death. In this game, it’s not death, it just leads you to a different part of the level. However, the path you need to take is cryptic as hell, and you’ll never know if you’re going the right way. The only way to find out is to take out the correct sub boss. When you do, you’ll see an intermission bumper like you would for anime, and you’ll ask yourself “Wait, am I just going through the first level again?” The answer is partially yes, because remember that point where the screen wouldn’t let you advance? Well, now you will see a platform show up that can take you to a new part of the level, but now you need to find a new path to get to point B. All of this is designed to pad the game’s extraordinarily short length. By short, I mean that if you know your way through all three levels, you can finish this game in about 15 minutes.

(Thank you to the person who put this shit together)

I’d be able to forgive the maze-like structure if the game was any fun to play, but as it stands, this is a painfully generic floaty platformer. By floaty I mean Osomatsu himself defies gravity by being able to float in the air for an extended period of time with his jump. It’s nice to be able to control his jump mid-air, but the weightlessness will more than likely mess up your precision platforming, or you’ll get interrupted by the mere touch of your enemies. Yes, when you take damage, you get stun-locked, and instead of just falling to the ground, you are stun locked mid-air. I could forgive it, but this game is once again, a 30 frames per second game, and almost feels like it’s been slowed-down intentionally. Another issue I take with this game is the difficulty, it’s way too easy. All enemy projectiles can be destroyed with your slingshot, and there’s enough distance between you and the enemy to have a pattern figured out easily. I guess the idea was because your slingshot has such a short range of attack, it would balance things out, but it really doesn’t. You’ll have plenty of lives and health to go up against the boss and sub boss as the game gets fairly generous with health powerups. There are also shops where you can buy some items to guide you with the ribbons you’re collecting along the way, but before you can access that you get the option of playing mini-games to gamble them away. I’d just skip these and go straight to the shop, it’s not like you need these power-ups that much anyway, you can beat this game without them.

On the visual side... this was the worst the Mega Drive had in 1988. Sure, it’s colorful, and the sprites evoke the spirit of the original manga, but this looks like a hold over from the Master System/Mark III, it just doesn’t impress me. Aesthetically, the game is fine for the most part, but eventually you’ll run into a few racial stereotypes for your enemies, and boy are they horribly insensitive. Even knowing this, I pressed on with the game, because I wanted to see if I could take something positive out of it and look past those enemy sprites, and about the only thing I find entertaining is Iyami being all the bosses. So aside from a few bad sprites, I find the graphics were more focused on aesthetics and functionality than pushing technical limitations early. Audio wise this game is just plain awful. There’s an old saying among video game music fans that only Japan could use the Mega Drive’s unique sound setup correctly, but if that’s the case, they’ve never listened to this game’s music. It’s obnoxiously loud, the sound effects are super scratchy, it feels too much like an assault on my ears compared to the sound effects on something like Curse, or even Taz-Mania. Nothing against the compositions themselves, I found two songs to be catchy, but otherwise, nothing stood out for the right reasons. Definitely not a keeper.

At the end of the day, Osomatsu-Kun Hachamecha Gekijou is shovelware of the highest honor. Even if you can endure the game’s painfully easy difficulty, and frustrating level layouts, you are left with a feeling of emptiness by the time you reach the end. This game will not so much break you, but it will leave you feeling empty and depressed as you say to yourself, “that’s it?” I certainly felt empty after playing this. Like I just lost about 20 minutes of my life, and I’ll never get it back. Is there much worse on the Mega Drive? Yes, but considering it was 1988, the console had nowhere to go from here but UP. I wouldn’t even think of recommending this today, even as a curiosity. This is one of those cases where I can say avoid at all costs

Positives

+ Aesthetics mimic the source material perfectly

+ Controls respond

+ The game’s translated subtitle “Nonsensical Theater” perfectly describes everything

Negatives

- Unnecessarily pads its length thanks to a cryptic maze structure

- Unacceptably short

- Insults your skill by being piss easy

- Racial stereotyping may be enough to turn you away

- Designed to cash in on Osomatsu-Kun’s returning popularity in the 80′s

- The game’s translated subtitle “Nonsensical theater” perfectly describes everything

- Audio will hurt your ears

- Unless you need to complete an actual Mega Drive collection... skip it.

- While taking screenshots, I somehow managed to unlock the game’s framerate, indicating that this game was deliberately programmed in assembly to play at 30 frames per second. The floaty mechanics actually handled better under 60 fps, no fucking joke. Do you believe this shit? 

Overall: 2/10

#video games #osomatsu kun #sega #retro #retro gaming

[scribeofmorpheus]

Chasing Tornadoes {5/6}

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Reader

Series Warnings: poorly  written medical procedural, mild delving into spirituality, language,  overbearing egos, graphic descriptions of medical procedures. more warnings to be added. 18+ Generally, like my blog.

A/N: swearing...sexual tension?

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | AO3

Taglist is open -comment or send an ask!  

<< Previously ○ Next >>

You woke up with a hell of a hangover and a parched throat that tasted sour, like bad vodka.

“Ugh,” you rolled onto your back and looked at the alarm clock. “Shit, I’m late for work.”

You fumbled out of bed and began pulling on your work clothes with a toothbrush tucked under one cheek and a facecloth soaking through your bra strap on your shoulder. Spike watched you duck in and out of the bathroom from the living-room, his hungry growl greeting your stinging ears.

Then, suddenly, you remembered.

“Oh, you’re right, boy,” you plopped next to Spike on the couch. “I don’t have work today.” You slipped out of your work trousers and lounged about for a hot, undecided minute in nothing but the oversized festival t-shirt you wore to bed and your koala print underwear.

Spike growled again, his long tail knocking over a small flower pot. You rolled your eyes, “Right, breakfast, you utter flower fiend.”

Your cellphone rang. Caller ID registered it was the hospital. You turned to Spike, “Maybe they need me back after all.”

You cleared your throat twice before answering, “Hel—”

“Child,” Jan’s chipper tone came racing through your phone’s speaker. She had that whisper-shout octave that told you she was using the receptionist phone for personal reasons. “What have you done to this poor man?”

“Who?” You leaned onto the couch, Spike clawed his way off the couch arms and stomped all over your stomach, reminding you of the alcohol nausea. “Oof, Spike, ow.”

“Stephen, who else?” Jan continued. “He’s been walking about with a permanent scowl all morning. Never seen him look so…constipated. Is it true you two went to Gloria’s last night?”

“How on earth do you know everything that goes on in this town?” You let out an impressed huff.

“Tiny told me,” Jan said. “Well, actually, Tiny told his sister Tina. And Tina’s church buddies with my niece Francis, and she told the group chat. Did you know Tiny’s had the biggest crush on you since the New Year’s party last year? Poor guy. Think he’s seeing someone over a dating app or something. Can’t keep up.”

“There’s a group chat?” You scoffed. “Why am I not part of it?”

“Because you don’t like my cornbread,” Jan retorted. “Anyway, the real reason I called was because my neighbour—Ed—would like to set a date.”

“A date?” Your eyes went wide. Then you felt guilty for not calling Teddy back. Why is dating so hard?

“So you can talk about his Prius?”

“Oh, shit, yes. That kinda date….” You stood up to look at your day planner on the kitchen table. “Umm, next week Thurs—hang on, what am I saying, I don’t have work. I’m free all week.”

“I’ll let him know,” before she hung up, Jan added. “Oh and wear anything with bees on it. He’s into honey farming and bee conservation. May bump down the price if you schmooze him a little.”

“Thanks, Jan. I owe you.”

“Big time.”

The line went dead and you sighed. Spike stepped on your toes, another growl for attention coming from his mouth.

As you sliced up a banana into Spike’s bowl, your doorbell went off. You looked at the wall clock in your kitchen, chewing the inside of your cheek in thought. Everyone you knew was probably at work.

“Who could that be?” You set Spike’s bowl down and the lizard chewed like a baby with no teeth. Without thinking to get decent, you opened the door to a very flustered looking Stephen Strange. He held up the tray of take-out coffee up to his eye-line, but his lips quirked into a secret smirk.

“Stephen—What?—Why?—You should be at the hospital,” you blurted in surprise.

“I—uh—felt like we’d need to…discuss certain—uh…” He cleared his throat. “Would you mind putting pants on?”

“Pants? What…” you looked down at your exposed thighs and blushed. “Pants! Right, yeah, come in. Sit anywhere you like…Errr, just don’t try and pet Spike, he bites strangers.”

“Your son bites people? Can’t say I’m entirely surprised…” Stephen raised a brow as he shrugged his coat off and placed the coffee tray on a table. “Isn’t it a school day?”

“Spike’s not that kind of son,” you shouted out from your bedroom.

“Ouch,” Stephen took a sharp inhale, waving his hand about as if he’d been burned. You went rushing into the kitchen.

“Spike get back here and apologise,” you said to the Iguana. Spike waddled away before you could scold him as blood dropped from Stephen’s finger.

Stephen glared at you with a look of disbelief, “Your son is a fat lizard?”

You bit back a laugh as you placed Stephen’s hand under running water in the sink. “Don’t worry, he’s rabies-free. But if you develop a sudden, unexplained dislike of water, let me know.” You quipped.

Stephen rolled his eyes at you. It didn’t escape your notice that he wasn’t as rigid around you as before. Even with his hand in yours under the rushing faucet.

“So what are you doing here?” You asked. “On a workday no less.”

“It’s a small town, managed to finish my rounds early. Turns out there aren’t that many brain injury cases to deal with,” he chuckled lowly. Your heart picked up its pace. “Besides, I wasn’t getting much done. Too distracted thinking about the…”

You turned to look at him, “The what?”

Stephen’s eyes lingered on your lips for a fraction of a second before he pulled away, “Thinking about your total lack of professionalism yesterday.”

You scoffed, “Yeah, well you deserved it.” You reached up for a cabinet overhead and pulled some emergency plasters from a hiking first aid kit you’d forgotten to put away.

“Here,” you handed him the plaster. He took it sheepishly, making it a point so his fingers never came in contact with yours.

“Listen,” he began peeling off the waxy plastic of the plaster. “Last night, I don’t know what you were thinking—Probably weren’t thinking with all those vodka-lime’s you downed—but I’m not here to be anybody’s, Dr Grey—”

You laughed, “Dr Grey?”

“Yes, from that medical drama series that you and Christine used to watch in college,” Stephen looked up at you as if you grew a third eye.

“You mean Derek Shepard? Because—and no offence—I don’t really think you have the…spunk to be Meredith.”

“Does it matter if the analogy sticks?”

“What’s this analogy implying?”

Stephen took a step closer, his voice going deadly sharp, “That I’m not here to get tangled up in any romantic…drivel.”

“Good,” you smirked and Stephen cocked his head to the side. “Because I never took you for the romantic type.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, you know exactly what I mean,” you riffled through the bread tin and asked over your shoulder: “Bagel?”

“What?” Stephen’s vein by his temple was beginning to throb, hands akimbo.

You took out the cream cheese from the fridge and smeared some over the ready sliced bagel, “You brought coffee, I’m asking if you want a bagel to go with it…on your way out of my apartment?”

“Think I’ll just have the coffee, thanks,” there was heat beneath his words, no sincerity as he strode over to the tray of coffee.

“You know where the door is. Unless you’re so far up your own ass you need someone to guide you out,” you bit back, feeling petty.

Stephen turned on his heel, finger pointing at you, “You think you’re so high and mighty. Looking down on me because I actually have aspirations I want to chase. So what if I’m ambitious? It’s miles better than being some doe-eyed fellow who passed on their chance at a residency because they’re too scared of the big, bad city.”

You gasped, eyes going wide. How did he know that?

“Yeah, I ran into Arlene during my rounds. She’s quite the talker when not fumbling with paperwork like a little mouse,” Stephen huffed, dropping his coffee cup on the table. Some of it spilled and burned his hand, but he kept a good poker face. “So don’t go acting as if you being here is because you’re some sort of bleeding-heart when you and I both know you’re just scared. Ever since I came into town, I’ve just been a constant reminder of the future you’re too scared to want to want!”

“You really are a piece of work aren’t you?” You folded your arms over your chest to hide the fact they were shaking. “And you wonder why no one sticks around, what with your terrible bedside manner and arrogant as fuck personality—waltzing about like you own every hospital and know all there is to know about how the world works.” You poked his chest several times. “Well, fuck you, your obnoxious brain and that high horse you rode on.”

“Fuck me?” Stephen raked a rough hand through his hair, cheeks going red. “Fuck you!”

“Fuck me?” You craned your head back. “No, fuck you!”

You poked him even harder and Stephen grabbed your hand to stop your index finger from bombarding his sore chest. He tugged and you were pulled in.

Breath hot against each other’s cheeks. Lips mere centimetres away. A flush set on both your cheeks.

Then, without warning, he kissed you and there was nothing delicate or chaste about it. It wasn’t like the innocent little make-out session you’d shared on your doorstep. This was different, full of pent up tension and the heat of the argument. It was rough and fast and demanding. Soon, you were clawing at each other’s clothes as you led Stephen into your bedroom.

#Stephen Strange #stephen strange x reader #doctor strange imagine #doctor strange x reader #chasing tornadoes