#let’s start a villainous band

[makingqueerhistory]

Spooky Queer Books

Since spooky season is starting, I thought I would share a list of my favourite queer books that are great for this time of year.

Some of these links are affiliate links.

It Came from the Closet: Queer Reflections on Horror

Joe Vallese

Horror movies hold a complicated space in the hearts of the queer community: historically misogynist, and often homo- and transphobic, the genre has also been inadvertently feminist and open to subversive readings. Common tropes--such as the circumspect and resilient "final girl," body possession, costumed villains, secret identities, and things that lurk in the closet--spark moments of eerie familiarity and affective connection. Still, viewers often remain tasked with reading themselves into beloved films, seeking out characters and set pieces that speak to, mirror, and parallel the unique ways queerness encounters the world.It Came from the Closet features twenty-five essays by writers speaking to this relationship, through connections both empowering and oppressive. From Carmen Maria Machado on Jennifer's Body, Jude Ellison S. Doyle on In My Skin, Addie Tsai on Dead Ringers, and many more, these conversations convey the rich reciprocity between queerness and horror.

Into the Drowning Deep

Mira Grant

The ocean is home to many myths, But some are deadly... Seven years ago the Atargatis set off on a voyage to the Mariana Trench to film a mockumentary bringing to life ancient sea creatures of legend. It was lost at sea with all hands. Some have called it a hoax; others have called it a tragedy. Now a new crew has been assembled. But this time they're not out to entertain. Some seek to validate their life's work. Some seek the greatest hunt of all. Some seek the truth. But for the ambitious young scientist Victoria Stewart this is a voyage to uncover the fate of the sister she lost. Whatever the truth may be, it will only be found below the waves. But the secrets of the deep come with a price.

The Devouring Gray

C. L. Herman

After her sister's death, seventeen-year-old Violet Saunders finds herself dragged to Four Paths, New York. Violet may be a newcomer, but she soon learns her mother isn't: They belong to one of the revered founding families of the town, where stone bells hang above every doorway and danger lurks in the depths of the woods. Justin Hawthorne's bloodline has protected Four Paths for generations from the Gray--a lifeless dimension that imprisons a brutal monster. After Justin fails to inherit his family's powers, his mother is determined to keep this humiliation a secret. But Justin can't let go of the future he was promised and the town he swore to protect. Ever since Harper Carlisle lost her hand to an accident that left her stranded in the Gray for days, she has vowed revenge on the person who abandoned her: Justin Hawthorne. There are ripples of dissent in Four Paths, and Harper seizes an opportunity to take down the Hawthornes and change her destiny--to what extent, even she doesn't yet know. The Gray is growing stronger every day, and its victims are piling up. When Violet accidentally unleashes the monster, all three must band together with the other Founders to unearth the dark truths behind their families' abilities...before the Gray devours them all.

Tell Me I'm Worthless

Alison Rumfitt

Three years ago, Alice spent one night in an abandoned house with her friends, Ila and Hannah. Since then, Alice's life has spiraled. She lives a haunted existence, selling videos of herself for money, going to parties she hates, drinking herself to sleep. Memories of that night torment Alice, but when Ila asks her to return to the House, to go past the KEEP OUT sign and over the sick earth where teenagers dare each other to venture, Alice knows she must go. Together, Alice and Ila must face the horrors that happened there, must pull themselves apart from the inside out, put their differences aside, and try to rescue Hannah, whom the House has chosen to make its own. Cutting, disruptive, and darkly funny, Tell Me I'm Worthless is a vital work of trans fiction that examines the devastating effects of trauma and how fascism makes us destroy ourselves and each other.

#queer #lgbt #transgender #queer books #lgbt books #book recommendations #queer history

[messiahzzz]

i have been thinking a lot about mystra’s relationship with gale, how reducing her to “his ex” really is an understatement. she was and still is so much more than that. moreover, using the term “ex-girlfriend” in relation to her plainly feels wrong and diminishes the influence she has over him, as well as the role she played in his life since his childhood (and it also trivializes the abuse he suffered through her).

there are several instances where gale gets defensive when his companions mention or ask him abt mystra. he claims that their relationship was no less real even though most of their interactions were incorporeal.

we have already established that gale is an unreliable narrator in this particular case, still not having fully come to terms with the fact that he was groomed, manipulated and abused. he ping-pongs between bouts of realization (even in his romance), gaining clarity that he was merely used and eventually discarded and that mystra never truly cared for him, back to making light of his situation, idealizing her once again. realizing the extent of his trauma, that he is indeed a victim in this scenario, unlearning what he has been made to believe from a young age is a slow and painful journey. he is in the process of healing, but it takes time. time he deserves just like anyone else.

which makes me wonder what their relationship really looked like, once the lines between teacher, muse, and lover began to blur. i also feel like one of the reasons why part of the fandom still struggles to identify mystra as his abuser, is because she is a white woman who initially presents herself in a soft-spoken, benevolent manner… and well, the fact that gale himself is ambitious to a fault and a lil insane about the promise of power. he also briefly mentions "crossing mystra’s boundaries” when he confides in tav and tells them about his folly. (“i am, after all, the villain in this story.”) which led to a looooot of misinterpretations.

leaving the overall lore and mystra’s treatment of her other chosen aside — what we can discern from her interactions with gale in-game, is that mystra is civil as long as she remains in control and gale follows her demands, but as soon as there’s even a slight mention of challenging her power or defying her rule, she rather quickly changes her tone.

there is also one particular exchange between them that just won’t leave my head:

“you were many things to me, but never a threat. and never a savior."

even if we choose to blatantly ignore the fact that mystra is a deity, his goddess - there is no possible way that their relationship ever could have been equal by any mortal standards. the power imbalance that comes with her being his teacher and a symbol of his admiration, plus the sheer control she holds over him and his powers are simply too great. don’t even let me get started on how it is a common tactic of abusers to isolate their victims from any outside influences so they can exert full control over them. and how up to meeting tav and their merry band of misfits, every single soul he was close to was inevitably tied to mystra in one way or another. he briefly mentions his colleagues and then there’s elminster, also mystra’s chosen and former lover, and tara, who is a fine wizard in her own right. he spend so many years in service of her, dedicating his life to her, that now there is no one left he can truly call a friend. most of his little anecdotes and stories he tells are restricted to his childhood and university days, everything else was mystra.

evidently, ordering gale to detonate the orb is the most efficient course of action in her eyes. he is just as expendable as any other mortal, after all. maybe once significantly more useful given his status and the extent of his powers, but she doesn’t feel sorrow nor remorse for ordering him to end his life. his death is simply the most convenient means to an end.

another thing i would also like to briefly touch upon is the trigger/detonator itself. a dagger to the heart. it could have been literally anything else, a simple incantation. it is well within mystra’s power to stabilize the orb and also to remove it from his body entirely. but no, what she requires of gale is to stab himself. one might argue that it was simply a cinematic choice meant for a more dramatic effect, but it really leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. especially considering the fact that she is commonly known and referred to as a jealous goddess. it almost makes it seem like yet another form of punishment or mere pettiness. after his long period of isolation, gale is now surrounded by fellow humans. people he cares about, even perhaps people he might eventually consider good friends — which is enough of a reason for him to not want to die, to keep going and try to find another way, rather than to blindly follow mystra’s bidding. now there’s a group of people who support him and are genuinely invested in him staying alive. hmmm...

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 spoilers #baldurs gate 3 spoilers #mystra #yes again ugh #i know we have been through this so many times #also another thing i forgot to mention: #apparently there are several ending variations where gale relinquishes the crown of karsus to her #but mystra only temporarily stabilizes the orb and doesn't remove it #huh #this was a long one sorry #bg3 meta #grooming cw #abuse cw

[fandom]

Queer TV

This is a strange time to be writing an editorial on queer representation. While the past year has seen an incredible uptick in queer stories being told with humor and heart on the small screen, 2022 has seen a record high of 238 proposed anti-LGBTQIA+ bills in the US—nearly half of them targeting trans folks. Representation is important, though, and demand for more queer stories is growing (and, to some degree, being met), with a lot of good books and comics making it to our screens. With that in mind, think of this as your selective chronological tour of all the times we won in the TV landscape of the last year (October 2021–October 2022).

Our dataset year started off with the much-awaited adaptation of Robert Jordan’s fantasy epic, Wheel of Time. With such extensive source material (15 books if you count the prequel, which is where the seeds of the sapphic storyline in Rafe Judkins’ adaptation are to be found), the viewership, generally speaking, was divided into book fans and show-only fans, and both camps shitposted and meme’d and reviewed with abandon. 

The biggest queer-centric show we saw in the last year was the adaptation of @aliceoseman’s comic Heartstopper (@heartstoppercomic). Co-created by Alice Oseman themself, this adaptation was very sensitive to the much-loved source material. And, being native to Tumblr, these characters were bound to be welcomed with open arms when they hit the screen in an ebullient explosion of queer joy. 

A run-down of the past year would be incomplete without the incredible queerdos of the Revenge who swashbuckled their way into our hearts. We’re referring, of course, to Our Flag Means Death’s Gentleman Pirate and his merry band of (living-wage-paid, no less!) shipmates. Your favorites included genderqueer Jim ‘not-a-fucking-mermaid’ Jimenez and Oluwande, Lucius Sprigg and Black Peter, Frenchie who just hates cats, and The Swede, who keeps his heart but loses his teeth. Then, of course, we have Blackbeard himself, or simply Ed, who is struggling with his identity (villain or softboi).

Based on the story by @veschwab and produced by @belletristbooks, First Kill was another adaptation that fans of vampire stories got very excited about. Add to that the fact that this was very much a sapphic enemies-to-lovers scenario between hunter Calliope and young vampire Juliette, and the pre-show excitement was palpable. The post-season disappointment even more so as fans turned to their dashes to vent about the lack of good lesbian and wlw representation in 2022’s TV landscape.

Where the cancelation of First Kill left us reeling, the Rockford Peaches from A League of Our Own came in clutch and soothed our sapphic souls. You love the show which you affectionately shortened, in good old Tumblr fashion, to a silly little acronym: aloto. Whether you’re in it for the gal pal aesthetics, the butch energy, or Uncle Bert, or some good old fashioned baller drama, there truly was something for all of your wlw whimsies here. Let’s go, Peaches!

@neilgaiman’s The Sandman series finally came out to much acclaim, and came out so gay that armchair reviewers of the homophobic sort really struggled to wrap their minds around quite how gay it is. We got pansexual serial killing Corinthian! Pansexual, demon-hunting, women-kissing Johanna Constantine! Some very loaded moments between Morpheus and Hob Gadlin! This is what dreams are made of (sort of)!

This whole list would be nothing, nada, a crumb of zilch whizzing around a black hole, if it weren’t for the writers who created many of these stories in the first place. So thank you to them. And to you, Tumblr, for celebrating the good and standing up for each other through another year. Here’s to a kinder 2023. 

#year in review #queer tv #tumblr2022

[slexenskee]

Only Shooting Stars (Break The Mold)

The AU where Gojo is actually All Might's California kid that literally no one asked for, including me 🤦‍♀️

Satoru’s best friend just told him she hates him. Actually, she told him she wanted to go hiking, which is basically the same thing. 

There is emphatically nothing he’d like less than being dragged through the parched, dry hills around the Dish on an otherwise perfectly normal Saturday morning free of classes, but Makoto is only in town for two days and he promised her he’d do whatever she liked barring arson and/or more tequila shots. 

“Can’t you just get Captain Underpants to go with you?” He throws out as a token protest, staggering into her rental jeep with the darkest shades he owns tossed over his eyes in a desperate attempt to keep his hangover at bay.

He squints at her as she settles in the driver’s seat of her rented death contraption. And why isn’t she hungover, anyway? She had even more to drink than him last night. 

“You know his hero name is Captain Celebrity, and please don’t say that where anyone can hear you.” She rolls her eyes as she starts the car. “Until I get a more famous client he’s still my cash cow, and I’d really rather not get fired right now.”

“You couldn’t have picked a worse one.” Satoru snorts, flopping into the passenger seat. “Isn’t he still cheating on the daughter with the stepmom or something?”

“Alleged,” Makoto hisses. “Allegedly cheating. And no, obviously. I wouldn’t still be his publicist if he was that much of an idiot.”

She tries to back out of her spot and almost immediately slides several inches down the heart-palpitation-inducing San Francisco incline he’d parked her on last night. She gives him a look of pure, sheer terror over her steering wheel. 

Satoru quickly undoes his seatbelt. “Yeah, okay. Put the parking brake on and switch with me— I’ll drive.” 

He has them up and off the worst of Hyde St.’s incline with the undisturbed impassivity of a kid who’s spent his entire driving career wedging himself into tenuous and visibly improbable parking spots all across the bay area. Makoto gives a sigh of relief once they clear the worst of the soaring hills, and actually doesn’t bring up the topic he knows she’s itching to broach until he’s pulling onto the 101. 

“You know, I wouldn’t have to bother with Captain Celebrity if someone would just finally agree to be a hero.” Makoto needles him, for the umpteenth time. 

He rolls his eyes behind his glasses. “Not happening.” He shoots her down flat. 

“You can’t stay in college forever!” She protests.

“What do you mean, forever?” He protests back, offended. “I’m not even twenty-two yet!” 

And she makes it sound like he’s wasting his life away going to college or something! As if getting into Stanford isn’t the most snobbish badge of supremacy you can wave around in this damn state! 

This is what he gets for saving her all those years ago, he laments. A best friend who nags him over all his life choices. He should have let her just fall from that damned New York skyscraper. Or more realistically, just waited it out and let an actual hero swoop in and save her. It’s not as if there hadn’t been plenty around at the time. 

She’d been a twenty-one year-old intern at a prestigious marketing agency caught at the wrong end of a villain takeover, and as far as his mother was concerned he’d been a seventeen year-old ostensibly touring the city for colleges, but in reality had been touring music dive bars more than campuses. They’d immediately bonded over the fact he’d saved her life, but also the indie band shirt he’d been wearing as he’d done it. 

Growing up in LA, his only two real options were surfing or surf rock, and he’d chosen to spend more time on the route that wouldn’t lead him to immediate skin cancer. His mom had eventually moved them to San Francisco, but he’d never quite grown out of his SoCal roots. He’d loved music in his last life, and in this life, he’d decided to chill the fuck out and ignore society and all it’s problems, and music seemed as good a way as any to do it. And he was pretty damn good at it, if he did say so himself. His expansive catalog of songs from his last life and eidetic memory made most people call him a genius, even if he rejected the label. So he was a passable— if not prodigal— guitarist, and Makoto had just learned to play the bass herself, so it was really no surprise they’d not only immediately bonded, but immediately decided to make a band together. 

Makoto jumping ship and splitting her time between the US and Japan had thrown a bit of a wrench in their rockstar dreams, but they were making it work somehow. And considering he can teleport around the world at will, it’s really not that much of a hindrance. 

That does beg the question though, of why Makoto would rather him be a hero than a musician. But he imagines he actually already knows the answer to that. 

“How about you stop cleaning up after stupid celebrities, and become a celebrity yourself.” He argues, with a raised brow. 

Makoto scoffs. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to break into the music industry?” 

With the confidence of several dozen platinum hits spanning several dozen genres sitting pretty in his head, Satoru retorts; “I don’t think that will be a problem for us.” 

She laughs him off at first, but then seems to give it genuine thought. “I guess you are pretty enough to have lead singer appeal,” she concedes, uncharitably. “But we haven’t even released an album yet; you have no idea how well it will be received on the charts. Playing little dive bar shows isn’t going to get us anywhere.” 

Satoru just shrugs. “Then what’s stopping us? Let’s record an album.”

Makoto just rolls her eyes. “Yeah, sure. Come pop by Japan next weekend, and let’s do it.”

“Sure.” He agrees immediately, making her do a double take. He grins winsomely at her. “What? I’m free next weekend. Why not?” 

She just shakes her head in wonder. “Even seeing it multiple times, sometimes I really do still forget you can just… teleport across the world. And stop bullets with your eyeballs.”

“It’s telekinesis,” he corrects, but at this point it’s just rote. 

“No, I specifically remember you trying to explain it had something to do with your eyeballs, don’t try to change it up now.” Makoto pokes him in the shoulder— or tries to, but is stopped with his barrier. “And how the hell that’s supposed to even make sense, I have no idea. But you definitely said it.” 

Yeah, he probably deserves that for trying to explain his cursed techniques while he’d been several mystery drinks deep at a college frat party. Makoto probably still hasn't forgiven him for dragging her to that madhouse, but in his defense, she’d all but begged him to take her to an American college party in the first place.

“It’s… complicated.” He hedges off. “My eyes just help me understand how to use my powers; they’re not actually what creates my barrier.” 

Makoto squints at him suspiciously. “... What’s your mom’s quirk again?”

He chuckles awkwardly. “Oh, she can convert energy from the sun. Mine’s a mutation, obviously.”

“Could just be a strange combination.” Makoto muses. “What did you say your dad’s quirk was?”

“I, uh, have no idea.” Satoru coughs, keeping his eyes on the road in a vaguely panicked manner. 

“Shit, that’s right, I’m sorry.” Makoto jolts in her seat, apologetic. “You still haven’t heard anything? I thought your mom said… I mean, they’re not on bad terms, right?”

Frankly, Satoru almost wishes she would continue pestering him about becoming a hero over this particular topic. 

“They’re not on bad terms, no.” He hedges off, shifting in his seat. Why couldn’t his best friend have a normal quirk, like fire breathing or water bending? Or anything besides being a human lie detector when he has so much he needs to lie about? “But they don’t talk much. I’m not sure she even knows what his quirk is herself.”

“Well, I guess it doesn’t really matter anyway, your quirk is what it is.” Mercifully, Makoto lets the subject drop. “Even if it makes no damn sense.”

Satoru laughs that off. “Does any quirk ever really make sense, though?” 

Makoto just clicks her tongue, then launches into a spirited rant on the laws of quirk science. Satoru breathes a quiet sigh of relief as the conversation devolves into a nonsensical argument on what would be the most useless quirk in history. 

One of these days he’s going to have to cave and tell Makoto the truth, but he’d really rather not do it when he’s hungover and facing the prospect of a miserable hike for the next few hours. 

//

And to be fair, nothing he said to Makoto was a lie. 

His parents aren’t on bad terms. Or rather, they’re not on any terms at all, as he doesn’t think they’ve even spoken once in the twenty-two years he’s been alive in this world. But according to his mom, they hadn’t parted on bad terms. They’d been college sweethearts, and his father had always been honest about his intentions to return to Japan. His mother had been adamant about staying in America and pursuing her own career. They’d split up for practicalities sake, unaware he was already on the way, and his mom looks back on that time of her life fondly. 

His mom would go on to have him several months after his father had left the country, and raise him as a single-mother as she built a life for them. His father would go on to be the world’s strongest hero. 

His mother had only ever known Yagi Toshinori as All Might, unbeatable and unbreakable, with a quirk so strong it would have him going down in history as one of the strongest heroes of all time. As far as she— and the rest of the world knew— he had some kind of strengthening quirk. 

But Satoru had seen him before, on one of his trips back to Japan. It had been from a distance, as he’d taken down a villain to the delight of the cheering crowds around him, but it had been enough for Satoru’s Six Eyes to see his quirk wasn’t quite as straightforward as the strengthening ability listed on his hero profile. All Might’s core— where most humans had a swirling mass of plus alpha energy— was as empty as Satoru’s. Satoru was quirkless because his father, All Might, had been born quirkless. The quirk All Might had now must have been  given to him when he was older, growing around that empty space and spreading through his body almost like a parasite. Or a curse. Satoru honestly couldn’t tell.

Satoru honestly didn’t care. 

He has no opinion on All Might, or what choices he may or may not have made to wield the power he has. 

When he was much younger, and saw how much his mother struggled to raise him on her own without help, he would resent him a bit for leaving her on her own like this. But his adult mind could understand the logic in both his parents’ motivations. They both made their own choices, and did what they thought was right with only care and consideration for each other. 

And it’s not as if Satoru’s childhood was lacking in any capacity.  

Actually, his childhood was awesome. 

To be entirely honest, he doubts he would have wanted All Might around even if that was possible. He can’t imagine a better way to grow up than the way he did, rocking out in the garage with his mom on the weekends, surfing in the mornings (with adequate sunscreen), skating from school to the skatepark in the afternoons, and having the complete and utter autonomy only a latchkey kid could have. His mom did what she could to make sure he grew up comfortably and well-cared for, and that included putting in long hours at work that had him on his own for most of the week. It was the best. There were no rules against using quirks in America— someone finally got their act together on personal bodily autonomy and all that— so he’d use his ‘quirk’ to teleport himself all across the world in his spare time. As long as he was back by dinner time, his mom didn’t need to know if he decided to spend the afternoon wandering the streets of Seoul in search of the best hotteok. 

He tried to keep his excursions on the down low, and keep his grades up and his nose out of trouble. While he adored his freedom, he never wanted to worry his mom. She was honestly too good for this world— and for him too, if he was being honest. The least he could do is be as good of a son as possible.

Well, he can try to be as good of a son as possible. As it stands, the majority of his chaotic existence usually gets in the way of that. 

“Oh, Sacchan, you’re home already?” His mother peers out of her office, thick, horn-rimmed glasses making her purple eyes look comically large on her face as she pokes her head over the wall. “Where’s Makoto-chan?”

“Probably on the plane already, unless it got delayed.” He tosses his keys into the basket by the front door, toeing off his shoes. 

She frowns at him. “You drove her to SFO, right? Don’t tell me you let her go by herself!”

He rolls his eyes. “She had a rental car to drop off, ya know. But yeah, I drove her from the rental place to her terminal.” 

Not that she deserved the consideration, after dragging him on a hike of all damn things yesterday. They’d just stayed out the whole night drinking beforehand, what madwoman does that? 

She gets up out of her chair, stretching her arms over her head as her hapless bun spills silver-white hair over her shoulders. “She’s such a nice girl,” his mother enthuses, as she cracks her neck. “I wish you’d bring more of your friends around, Sacchan. Your poor mother worries.”

“I’m in college now, mom.” He rolls his eyes. “We don’t really bring our friends around to meet our parents.”

More to the point, he wouldn’t want to anyway. College boys are emphatically the worst, and his mom is a very pretty woman. That’s just asking for trouble. And beyond that, he doesn’t have anyone at school he’d feel close enough to introduce her to anyway. He has plenty of people in his orbit to pair up with in labs, hang around the quad with while he’s killing time between classes, or drag to various house parties, but those are superficial bonds at best. 

He’s a young, handsome boy who surfs and skateboards and is good at all sports and plays rock music and still ranks at the top of his class; suffice it to say, he’s never wanted for friends or popularity. But he’s also a full grown man living through a second life; he has very little in common with the people in his age group. It’s gotten better now that he’s a full-fledged adult again, but he still tends to find the petty struggles of his fellow undergrads to be a bit pedantic. 

“You never brought any around in highschool either.” His mother laments. “Sacchan, you’re not embarrassed over your mother, are you?”

“Not at all.” He protests, then adds, because he doesn’t want to worry her, “I just don’t want people knowing exactly where I live. They seem nice enough, but you never really know with people these days.”

He says it to assure her that he’s a perfectly well-adjusted and well-liked kid who has plenty of deep and genuine friendships (entirely untrue) but only serves to worry her even more. 

She frowns at him, eyes downcast. “Oh, Satoru,” she says, in a sad tone that automatically has him lurching forward to comfort her. “I know things with your father are… complicated, but I never wanted to make you feel like you had to hide yourself from the world. I want to keep you safe, but I want you to have fun too, you know?” 

“Yes, I know.” He rushes to reassure her. “And I do have fun— you know I do! You came to my show just last week!”

His mother gives him a watery smile. “Yes, and your bandmate Kenji nearly started a bar fight, and the crowds got so unruly that the fire department got called in.” 

“That guy deserved to be slapped around a bit.” He returns, unapologetic. “And the fire department was just there to make sure we stayed under capacity— we weren’t causing any trouble!”

“No trouble, he says, when the cops were still called by the end of the night.” She teases him. 

He rolls his eyes. He can’t control whether or not two drunks decide to get in a brawl over baby mama drama outside the venue, that was totally not his fault. And also probably not the best show to take his mom to, but it was one of the few local performances they’ve ever done, and she was always making noises about finally seeing his band play in person. Unsurprisingly having two bandmates that live across the ocean and one that hops between two countries means they rarely play shows on this side of the Pacific, and he still hasn’t found a way to admit to her that his teleportation radius is a lot larger than he’d originally told her as a five year-old manifesting his ‘quirk’. 

“Cops or not, it was still a good time.” He grins, adamantly. 

“It was indeed a good time.” She nods, grinning back. She leans up to pat his cheek. “You looked like you were really enjoying yourself up there, Satoru. I always knew you’d be a star.” 

“It was a weekday performance at a local bar, I would hardly call myself a star.” He protests, helplessly. 

Her eyes twinkle behind her glasses. “Maybe not yet.”

--

Yes the title is from All Star by Smashmouth 😂 this fic has the most millennial playlist I've ever made

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#fic may death never stop you #mdnsy oneshots

[bro-atz]

betrayal [trope — mingi]

inspired by: shut up flower boy band — kdrama + this post

pair: rockstar!mingi/afab!reader

word count: 4.5k

content: angst, smut, heartbreak, mingi looks like he could kill you but is the sweetest cinnamon roll, (can you believe mingi is the betrayer gasp), reference to past drug use, drinking, smoking, violence, mingi gets beat up, (seonghwa's kind of a dick... and lowkey like a disney villain whoops), safe sex, car sex, bedroom sex, hand kink, tattoo kink, consensual sex

author's note: i actually had a completely different idea in mind, but then @byuntrash101 posted this and i immediately had a much better idea for the series so thank you for the inspiration love 💕 also someone for the love of god tell me how to stop turning drabbles into novellas thx

trope masterlist

Mingi flung his head back and sighed loudly in the dressing room as he stood before the vanity. He felt your presence behind him and immediately spun around, his shaggy hair covering the sadness in his eyes. You took a hesitant step towards him before he lashed out.

“What are you doing here?” Mingi spat out.

You winced. Sure, Mingi looked like he could kill someone, but in the time you knew him, he was the sweetest fucking cinnamon roll.

“I c-came to support you and the boys,” you murmured— it was the truth. You just wanted to support the band you had come to love, but honestly, you also wanted to see Mingi because you missed him. You missed him so fucking much.

“I told you to never let me see you again, Y/N. What is so fucking hard to understand about that?” Mingi huffed and ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up further.

“But why?” your voice wavered, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes. Tears actually did spill out of your eyes when you cried, “Why are you doing this? Can you tell me what I did wrong? Please? You break up with me over a phone call and tell me you want nothing to do with me, but you never said why!”

Mingi flinched. He hated seeing you cry, and he desperately wanted to just hug you and dry your tears, but he couldn’t. He had to stay away from you, and he couldn’t figure out a way to keep you away without just telling you to stay away. He wasn’t one to cheat or to move on so easily— hell, he had been performing for years, and it took him years to find someone like you, someone who could make everything go away, someone he could actually fall in love with— so he couldn’t bring himself to lie to you. He just needed you to trust him and to just stay away.

“Just get out of my face. Don’t ever come near me again,” Mingi bit out.

He didn’t even brush past you on his way out. He completely avoided you. You fell to your knees and cried as the curtains to the room swished upon his departure.

Before he could even get two steps away from the dressing room, Mingi ran into the one person he did not want to run into.

“Dude, I did what you fucking asked, okay?” he held his hands up and took a step away from him. “I didn’t do shit.”

“I know. I just came to collect,” he responded. “We’ll be out of your hair.”

Mingi nodded and quickly got away before the conversation could persist. He left the venue and slammed the door on his way out. He wanted to just run away into the night, but it was pouring. Of course it was raining. He settled for leaning against the side of the establishment and fishing his carton of cigarettes and his favorite lighter out of his back pocket. He lit one up and took a deep drag before the pain in his heart started to subside.

“I thought I’d find you here,” Mingi heard the bassist’s voice behind him.

“Not now, Yeosang,” Mingi murmured.

“No, dude. Spit it out. One day, Y/N was the love of your life, and the next you’re screaming at her to leave you alone? Nothing’s adding up,” Yeosang pushed further.

“Yeah, we’ll only be able to help you if you tell us what’s going on,” the keyboardist, Yunho, added.

Mingi found himself boxed in by the members of his band and let out his twentieth deep sigh of the day. “Fine,” Mingi mumbled as he took another drag from his cigarette. “But after I tell you guys, I don’t want to hear another word of it. I don’t want to hear her name ever again, got it?”

The men nodded, allowing Mingi to finally reveal what had happened between the two of you.

“Hey, who was that preppy chick in the front row?” the red-headed drummer asked his fellow bandmates.

“Beats me, dude,” Yunho shrugged. “She definitely doesn’t belong here, though.”

“Yeah, she’s like super preppy and shit,” the guitarist giggled.

“Isn’t that your type though, Wooyoung?” the drummer pointed out.

“…Shut up, San,” Wooyoung grumbled.

“It is weird, though. I’ve seen her so many times at our concerts. Is she one of our groupies?” Yeosang asked.

“Are groupies even a thing anymore?” Mingi furrowed his eyebrows.

“She’s definitely not a drug dealer from the looks of her,” San mused out loud.

“Okay, that was one time, and she seemed excited to be considered a groupie. I wasn’t talking to her because she sold— and I’m not about that shit! I haven’t done any more since I met you guys!”

“Mingi! Chill, that’s not what he was talking about!” Yunho grabbed Mingi’s shoulder to calm him down before he could throw a tantrum. “Besides, you almost went to jail. We know you don’t do drugs, so you don’t gotta get all defensive on us.”

“Yeah, okay, fine,” Mingi reclaimed his shoulder and adjusted his sweater before plopping to the ground.

“Anyway, that preppy girl— how many shows has she been at now?”

“Eight,” Yeosang answered immediately, only for four pairs of eyes to shoot directly to him and widen. “Not that I’ve been counting! …I’m just observant guys.”

“”Observant”,” Wooyoung mocked.

Before Yeosang could get up to slap the giggling guitarist silly, there was a knock on the dressing room door. Mingi got up and answered the door to see one of the stage managers standing there, a look of irritation on their face.

“Yes?”

“I thought we said you weren’t allowed to give anyone backstage access,” the stage manager said with disgust.

“We didn’t though?”

“Uh, actually…” San interjected and slowly raised his hand, the other four bandmates immediately groaning and yelling at the boy.

“Come on, man— We just talked about this!”

“You seriously suck.”

“That email was literally sent for you, San!”

“Sorry, sorry! I’ll handle it!” San held his hands up and scurried out of the room.

“Someone go with him to make sure he isn’t going to do stupid shit,” Yunho sighed while rolling his eyes.

“On it,” Mingi grumbled.

Leaving the other three to apologize profusely to the stage manager, Mingi left in pursuit of San. He got into the lobby of the venue and saw San with his arm already around the waist of the girl he had invited back to the dressing room— that bastard. Mingi made a mad dash for them, only to turn the corner and nearly crash into you, the preppy girl that looked like she didn’t belong at a rock concert, the preppy girl that Wooyoung (and also maybe Yeosang) had a tiny crush on. Well, he nearly crashed into you, but that didn’t stop you from tripping over your own two feet and falling back on your butt.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry,” Mingi apologized as he held out a hand to help you up.

“Can you—” you were about to tell the tall figure off, only to see his face and recognize him as the lead vocalist of your current favorite band: IT’S YOU(TH). “— sign my bra?”

You immediately clapped your hands over your mouth, your face burning red from sheer embarrassment. Mingi couldn’t help but laugh— so many girls had asked him to sign their bras in the past, but no one was ever shy about it, so your reaction to the words flying out of your mouth was honestly hysterical.

“I mean, I can if you want,” Mingi replied, a chuckle still lingering in his voice.

“R-really?” you squeaked.

One signed bra, eleven concerts, sixteen dates, and eighty-eight days later, Mingi was absolutely in love with you. Of course, he would never admit it first, but everyone in IT’S YOU(TH)— and honestly the whole damn world— could tell that the lead vocalist and guitarist of the young up-and-coming rock band was head-in-the-clouds, rose-tinted-glasses, cupid-shot-an-arrow-through-his-soul in love.

“Okay, Miss Astronomer, what am I looking at?” Mingi whispered to you, his lips dangerously near your ear.

IT’S YOU(TH) just finished their set for the night, and Mingi had promised you that he would be right by your side as soon as the concert ended. The two of you had driven way out of the city to the local rural area and laid in the wheat fields while staring up at the night sky. You had promised Mingi a night under the stars when he found out you spent four years of further education to study astronomy and physics, and you were finally delivering on that promise.

“So, that right there?” you whispered back as you started your astronomy lesson. “That’s you.”

“What?”

“That’s the Leo constellation,” you giggled— Mingi wasn’t really one for astrology.

“Oh, I get it,” Mingi responded with a half-hearted laugh, then genuinely asked, “But where is it?”

“Right there,” you responded as you traced the sky.

“Where?”

“Here,” you reached for Mingi’s hand and held it so that his pointer finger would be out. You then brought his hand to the sky and traced it for him with his hand. “Right… There…”

Mingi shifted ever so slightly closer to you the second you held his hand, and you felt his breath hit your neck as he rubbed his nose against your ear. You stifled a little moan mixed with a giggle and brought his hand down, his fingers lacing with yours as he did so.

“Can I… Tell you about my favorite star?” you asked him as you turned your head to face his.

“Tell me.”

You completely turned your body and scooted closer to him, his own body turning so he could face you properly. He let go of your hand so he could move his arm under your head to rest, and you snuggled into his soft chest. You placed your hand lightly on his chest and whispered, “This one. You’re my favorite star.”

“God, princess, you’re so cheesy,” Mingi rolled his eyes, but he had the biggest grin on his face.

“You’re also the brightest star, the prettiest star, the sexiest star,” you continued.

“I’m sexy, you say,” Mingi’s baritone voice dropped further, sending tingles of excitement down your spine.

“Of course you’re sexy. Your messy, dark hair, your smokey eyeshadow, your dark eyeliner,” you started listing, your fingers running through his hair then tiptoeing down his face. “Your beautifully angled nose, your… Soft… Lips…”

Your eyes lingered on his lips— eighty-eight days, and he had yet to kiss you. Well, he had kissed you, but he gave you those fleeting kisses, the kisses so quick that if you blinked, you’d miss them. Or, he’d kiss you “properly”, but those were usually on your forehead or cheek or shoulder— basically everywhere but your lips.

So, when he held your chin with a soft yet somehow still firm grip and tilted your chin up, your entire body flushed with warmth, with anticipation. Then, when his lips pressed against yours, you felt like you were soaring. You always imagined his lips were going to be soft since you spent so much of your time staring at them when he was on stage singing his heart out, and they were so much softer than you could imagine.

One kiss, then he leaned back, his eyes slightly darting back and forth as he observed your facial expression. Your rosy cheeks and small smile, your eyes turning into half crescents and sparkling brilliantly— God, Mingi loved all of it. So he kissed you again, a little more drive and passion behind the second one, and the intensity of his kisses only increased the more he kissed you.

You clung to him as his hand cupped your face, his long fingers brushing the nape of your neck and making you even more flustered. Your breaths and sighs mixed with his as your gentle string of kisses got heavier and hotter.

“What else?” Mingi asked in between kisses breathlessly. “What else do you find sexy?”

“Your neck tattoos.” Kiss. “Your hand tattoos.” Kiss. “Your nails.” Kiss. “Your rings.” Kiss. “Your style.” Kiss. “Your voice.” Kiss. “You.”

“Fuck, you’re so perfect, princess,” Mingi groaned, sending shivers down your spine.

Mingi forcefully disconnected himself from you, making you whimper and nearly whine. He stood up quickly, and before you could even begin to pick yourself up, he scooped you off the ground and carried you to his car. Unlocking it, he laid you down in the back seat and got in with you, his lips mashing into yours the second the car door closed.

His body rolled into yours as his hands roamed your body, your own restless hands tugging at his clothes, begging him to take them off. The sounds of your feverish lip locks with Mingi overpowered the rustling of your clothes and the clinks of his belt as they hit the ground one by one, leaving you completely naked and Mingi in just his underwear. You didn’t know when he managed to, but Mingi grabbed the condom he had stashed in his wallet and tucked it into the waistband of his underwear.

You wanted to ask why he was waiting to, for lack of better words, give it to you, but all of the thoughts and questions in your head disappeared in a heartbeat when Mingi traced two light fingers along your folds. A sigh of pleasure rippled out of your lungs when you felt his fingers slide through your slick and curl within you, the tips of his fingers digging softly into your walls. You could feel his rings press against your folds— they had yet to enter you. But, when he pulled his fingers out then shoved them right back in, he went further, his rings pushing past and into your cunt.

“Oh shit! Mingi!” you moaned loudly as he fingered you consistently and roughly. “Fuck, it feels so good!”

“Just keep moaning prettily like that for me, princess,” Mingi rasped as he added a third finger to the mix, his other hand beginning to massage your breast.

Your nails left red marks on his shoulders as you clung to him, your fingers and toes curling with every stroke. You bit your lower lip every so often so keep your moans to a minimum, but all hope was lost when his thumb started circling your clit, one circle for every stroke, and it definitely didn’t help when he started spreading his fingers inside you and pinched and tugged your nipple. You raked your fingers through Mingi’s hair and pulled him closer to you as you felt your orgasm wash over you, your loud moan sounding through the car.

“Princess, did you cum?” Mingi asked, although he didn’t need to know because he could feel your walls convulsing around his fingers.

You let out a little noise and nodded weakly, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes. Mingi caressed your face and wiped the tears away quickly before kissing you softly.

“Mingi,” you whimpered in between kisses. “I want you in me.”

You thought was going to laugh at the desperation in your voice, but he did anything but. He sat up and stroked your thigh gently as he said, “I’m going to need you to relax, okay?”

Mingi shed his boxers to reveal his massive cock. He just told you to relax, yet you couldn’t help but tense up when you saw what he was working with because he was fucking huge. It only made you even more fearful when you saw the letters XXL on his condom packet.

“Princess, just relax, okay?” Mingi instructed again softly.

He leaned down again and distracted you with his soft lips. His large hands went under your thighs and pushed your legs up, the length of his cock rubbing against your clit before pushing in slowly. You did your best to focus on kissing Mingi and tighten your hold on him to get yourself to loosen up to the best of your ability, but that didn’t stop you from feeling his like cock was going to tear you a new one.

Mingi kept his lips on yours as he moved slowly and calmly, his dick not completely leaving your body nor going all the way inside. He was just warming you up, but you felt like you were about to combust into flames with the way he was making you feel. You moaned and cried into his kisses while he grunted, his own restraint starting to weaken— he didn’t want to hurt you, at least not the first time the two of you had sex together.

The car bounced and shook when Mingi’s last string of self-control snapped. His cock filled you up and went so far deep inside you that you thought he was going to bruise your cervix. The sound of your sloppy kisses and heavy breaths and the raunchy squelches of his cock moving in and out of your soaking cunt harmonized, the sounds nearly escaping the confines of the car. What did escape, though, was your crying moan when Mingi rubbed against your G-spot and hit your cervix at the same time. The two of you came together, Mingi’s low groan ringing in your ears.

You were practically knocked out when Mingi pulled out of you, your weak and trembling hands struggling to push your sweaty hair away from your forehead. Mingi watched with slight amusement as you slowly started to regain your sanity.

“You look so pretty right now, princess,” Mingi said softly, nearly cooing. “I just want to see you disheveled like this under me all the time.”

“Tell me when and where, and I’m there, rockstar.”

After 100 days of being together, the problem started to arise.

“Hey, pretty princess,” Mingi greeted you as he walked into the coffee shop for your coffee date.

“Hey there, rockstar,” you greeted right back.

Mingi leaned down and kissed your lips quickly before taking the seat in front of you. He reached for your hands and held them, your hands fitting perfectly in his.

“Did you order yet?” he asked.

“Yeah, for both of us.”

Right on cue, one of the baristas announced your drinks were ready. Mingi got up and quickly returned with the drinks in hand. He set both the drinks down, your eager hands immediately picking up your iced one.

You only got to take one sip of your drink when your phone started ringing. You looked at the caller id and immediately declined the call before setting your phone face down on the table, Mingi warily watching all of your actions.

“Who was that?”

“Spam,” you replied with a frown— you hated lying to him, but to be fair, the caller was spamming you, and you had no intention of ever picking up the calls.

“Ugh, hate that,” Mingi grimaced.

“Tell me about it.”

The phone calls persisted. Every time the two of you went on a date or hung out or did anything together, you would get the “spam” calls. Mingi didn’t think much of it at first because spam calls usually were very annoying, but he started to worry when you phone would ring two, three, even four times in a row no matter how many times you declined the call.

“Hnngh— Harder! Fuck— Faster!” you shrilled as Mingi fucked you from behind. “Ugh, Mingi, so good!”

Your face was nearly smashed into your mattress as Mingi ruthlessly stuffed his large cock in your tight hole. He grunted loudly and affirmatively as he gripped your ass harder, his rings digging into your skin, your skin getting redder with his occasional slap.

Mingi was the first to notice. Your phone was on the nightstand, and it was ringing. He slowed his pace so he could reach over and grab it to decline the call on your behalf. He tossed your phone onto the bed near your hand and upped his tempo while pulling your ass higher into the sky.

And yet, your phone rang again. You quickly declined it before Mingi could notice, but he did. It was when it rang for the third time that Mingi had enough.

“Princess,” he grunted. “Gimme your phone.”

“W-why?”

“Just gimme.”

You unlocked your phone and pushed it backwards towards him— you trusted Mingi, so you had no problem doing as he asked. And Mingi didn’t abuse that trust. He simply opened the call log and saw the sea of red missed or declined calls, all of them from the same, unsaved number. He blocked the number and locked your phone before setting it back on the nightstand where it originally was, then he continued to fuck your brains out.

Mingi wanted it to be done then and there, which technically it was because you blocked the number, but that didn’t stop a bad feeling from manifesting within him.

“Yo, Mingi, you gonna meet us at the restaurant?” Yunho asked the singer.

“Yeah, I’m gonna call Y/N first—”

“You mean your pretty princess?” San teased— your name on Mingi’s phone was “pretty princess”, and the guys teased him all the time for it.

“Your pretty preppy princess?” Wooyoung piled on.

“Yes, my pretty princess. Go choke on some soju,” Mingi frowned and shooed the boys away.

The four other members of IT’S YOU(TH) skipped cheerfully away, leaving Mingi alone by his car. He started calling you only for someone to grab his phone.

“IT’S YOU(TH), huh? Cute.”

Mingi whipped around, his jaw tensing as he got ready to beat the shit out of whoever stole his phone from him.

“What’s your fucking problem, dude? Give my phone back, or I’ll beat the shit out of you,” Mingi warned aggressively.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the same voice said.

Stepping closer to him, a man with a flowery charm but deadly eyes appeared before Mingi. He dangled his phone as he stood before him, riling Mingi up further. He tightened his fist and prepared to swing, only for two pairs of arms to restrain him. The two people behind him brought Mingi down to his knees and kept him there, one man kneeling on his back while the other had a fistful of Mingi’s hair tight in his grasp.

“What the fuck do you want?” Mingi asked, his anger intensifying. “If it’s money, I’ll give you however much you want.”

“I don’t need your money, guitar boy. I want Y/N.”

“What?”

The man crouched in front of Mingi and held his phone up, the lock screen of you and Mingi shining brightly. He pointed at you and said, “I want Y/N back.”

“Oh, you’re a crazy ex-boyfriend,” Mingi couldn’t help but scoff. “Listen, she’s not one for me to give back. She likes me, so she’s dating me. She doesn’t like you, so she’s not dating you. It’s her choice, dude.”

Without a warning, the guy punched Mingi in the face. Mingi’s cheek immediately started bleeding, his eye throbbing with pain. Before he could recover from the shock of the punch, the man sent a mean hook into his jaw, Mingi’s head flying to the side. The guy behind him held his head back up, forcing Mingi to make eye contact with the asshole that just punched him.

“She didn’t break up with me because she stopped liking me, you asshole. She broke up with me because of you.”

Mingi didn’t bother responding— villains usually always revealed everything without being prompted.

“Ever since she went and saw your cute little band, she told me she “fell in love with you” and that she would literally “do anything” for you. Someone like you with your fucking pretty boy make up and your painted nails and your criminal face tattoo,” the man sneered in Mingi’s face. “Someone like you of all fucking people.”

“Seonghwa,” one of the men behind Mingi uttered. “Get to the point.”

“Shut the fuck up, Hongjoong,” the man, who Mingi could now identify as Seonghwa, snapped. Turning back to Mingi, Seonghwa continued, “She was still dating me the day you signed her fucking bra. And then the concert after that, you fucking asked her out, and she said yes and dropped me in a heartbeat.”

“How is that my fault?! I asked her out, but she could’ve said no!” Mingi argued.

“It’s you and your fucking band’s fault for even existing, you asshole!”

Seonghwa grabbed the collar of Mingi’s shirt and pulled him up, the two other men behind Mingi still holding onto him.

“Hongjoong, Jongho, let go. I want to beat this guy up,” Seonghwa hissed.

“Seonghwa, calm down—”

“Fucking drop his ass!”

Hongjoong and Jongho let go of Mingi, and Seonghwa immediately swung before Mingi could stop him. Mingi fell to the ground, allowing Seonghwa to start kicking the shit out of him. He couldn’t even get away from Seonghwa, but thankfully, his two friends held him back.

“Do you really think Y/N is going to want to be with you if you do shit like this?”

“Don’t give her a reason to hate you, dude.”

“Ugh, fine!” Seonghwa admitted defeat before shaking his friends off. “But you, Song Mingi, you better break up with her or else.”

“Or else what? You’ll kill me?” Mingi scoffed.

“No. I’ll destroy the rest of your band.”

The color in Mingi’s face drained. He could handle someone threatening him, but the thought of anyone from IT’S YOU(TH) getting hurt because of him or disbanding because of him was terrifying to him.

“Y-you… You wouldn’t.”

“I can, and I will. Break up with Y/N, and you and your band can sing your silly songs for the rest of time. Stay with her, and I’ll drive everyone in your life away from you.” Seonghwa tossed Mingi’s phone back to him. He crouched in front of him and added, “You have ’til the next concert.”

With that, Seonghwa and his friends left Mingi next to his car bleeding, afraid, and alone.

“That’s why your eye was black?” Yeosang asked with shock.

“Yes.”

“Mingi… I’m so sorry,” San sounded like he was about to cry.

“Yeah, you shouldn’t have to choose like that. Her ex-boyfriend is a complete psychopath!” Wooyoung added just as emotionally.

The three boys smothered Mingi with hugs while Yunho stood a little bit away, a frown plastered to his face.

“Alright, but now you all will drop it, right?” Mingi grunted as he tried to escape the group hug.

The boys nodded and verbally agreed. They started to head back inside, but Mingi stayed outside to burn through another cigarette. Yunho stayed with him.

“Don’t say anything, man. I know you,” Mingi sighed as he fished out his carton of cigarettes again.

Yunho didn’t say anything. Instead, he gave Mingi a silent hug, his hand petting the back of the singer’s head. Tears welled up in Mingi’s eyes. He dropped his face into Yunho’s shoulder and hugged the keyboardist back as he silently sobbed about his broken heart.

trope masterlist

trope taglist: @eyeryis @sinnarols @k-hotchoisan @aaasia111 @sunshineangel-reads @hwallazia @dazzlingstarrs @hyukssunflower

network: @cromernet

apply for the taglist here!

#Youtube #ateez #song mingi #mingi smut #mingi x reader #ateez mingi #song mingi ateez #mingi ateez #song mingi smut #broatz #trope ateez #trope series #ateez smut #ateez angst #mingi angst #song mingi angst #cromernet

[mathanlin]

Hero AU where school counselor!Phil has to deal with… interesting students.

Namely, the three boys he sees constantly bickering in the hallways.

And slamming cars into each other on the news.

Ridiculously, none of them know who the others are.

But Phil notices the *moment* new young vigilantes start popping up. The trio’s dropping grades, spotty attendance, and injuries only confirm it.

Or, y’know. Tommy mumbling, “What would you do if you were a hero?”

Phil helps in the least obvious ways he can.

Modifying their grades to be a bit less suspicious, leaving out ice packs by his office door (easy to steal), writing late passes without a bit of resistance.

But he can only be so subtle.

“So, Red.”

Tommy’s head jerks up. 

Phil almost laughs. “You’ve heard of him, huh? I figure he’s your favorite.”

Tommy shifts awkwardly in his chair — readjusting the wound Phil knows lies beneath his sweater. “Better than the fuckin’ Blade.”

Techno. Honors student. Flawless GPA. Volunteer. And vigilante.

Far closer to a villain.

“If only I could give the Blade a lecture,” Phil says, unable to stop a chuckle, and barely managing to not say, *You two have to stop beating the shit out of each other.*

Eventually, Phil gives up on subtlety & calls them all down to his office.

“So. I heard you’ve been getting into fights.”

Wilbur, drama kid — or Siren, smooth-tongued — is the first to act, eyes widening. “I’m sorry, sir?”

Then Techno. “Mr. Watson, I would *never.*”

“Then what’s that?”

Phil nods to the bruise beneath Techno’s turtleneck — from a hit Siren landed. Then, to Wilbur’s knuckles, ever so slightly battered.

And neither seem to notice a thing. 

Phil pinches his brow, sighing.

“Alright. Then Tommy. Care to explain the state of your shoes?” (Burnt, melted from running through rubble the Blade had created.)

*There* it is. Techno frowns, leaning back to peek — and Tommy quickly tucks his feet beneath the chair.

“Nothing.”

“Where were you all last night?”

Every single kid tenses. 

And starts rambling out excuses.

“I was— studying, of course—”

“Well, *I* was trying to get ice cream, and that bitch the Blade showed up—”

“Bitch?” Techno cries before catching himself. “I think you mean *Red* and *Siren*—”

“What the fuck?” Wilbur splutters. “Siren was trying to calm those two fuckers down—”

“Boys,” Phil says. “Look. All three of those heroes would be better *together,* right? Not fighting, not hurting each other?”

“Maybe,” Tommy finally mumbles, toeing at the floor, “but… why are we talking about heroes?”

Phil tips back in his chair, face in hands.

“Come on. Someone figure it out.”

Silence. 

Phil groans. “Wilbur, you quit band two months ago. Techno, Tommy, who showed up two months ago?”

More silence.

“Uhh… I don’t know.”

“Techno,” Phil says, almost desperate. “You tutor Tommy, right? What happens after he disappears from your lessons?”

“I… go home,” Techno lies. 

Phil lets out an exasperated sigh. “No, you go where *he* goes. And where’s that?”

Tommy’s eyes start to narrow.

“You like Greek shit. Like… the Blade,” he says quietly, staring at Techno. Then, at Wilbur. “And *you’re* a pretentious bastard. Like *Siren.*”

Phil raises an eyebrow, fighting a smile.

“And you’re a little shit,” Wilbur snaps, then— pales. “Like… Red?”

“*There* we go,” Phil says, letting out a sigh of relief. “Now, I have a plan. If you three work together, I truly believe that—”

It’s a shame Phil’s office is so tiny.

There’s no room for three vigilantes to sufficiently beat the shit out of each other.

.

.

.

Just the idea of the three of them curled up at Phil’s, working on homework before heading off to fight crime (together, for once). 

Phil being their “man in the chair” (even if he directs them to safer areas, too worried for anything more).

And of course, the best (worst?) part of being a school counselor — the actual *counseling.*

Except it’s not about what classes to take, or bullies to avoid.

It’s holding Wilbur as he sobs after killing his first villain to protect his brothers. (Because that’s what they are, now). 

It’s comforting Techno as he fails his first class, too busy with heroics to focus or study. 

It’s reassuring Tommy when his brothers get hurt, always ready to defend their youngest.

And it’s crying like a father when they graduate.

It’s *loving* them like a father, his home always open to them, filled with medical supplies and bedrooms for each kid, newpaper clippings pinned proudly on the fridge.

There’s a reason the city’s strongest trio of vigilantes always protect one specific man.

#mcyt #dsmp #dsmp au #sbi #sbi au #threadfic #technoblade #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #philza

[cosmerelists]

Cosmere Characters in the Hunger Games

As requested by @sweetteaanddragons :)

I haven't read or watched Hunger Games, but I've picked up enough through cultural osmosis...I hope. They're kids in an arena fighting to the death, right? And it's a media circus? And there are 12 districts? And they're poor? I think I got it! Anyway, let's stick Cosmere characters in that arena and see how they do!

By the way, for the most part I'm imagining these characters in their own separate hunger games, not all together, just because I didn't want to imagine all of my blorbos killing each other.

1. Kaladin

After a kid who looks just like Tien literally dies in Kaladin's arms (note: all of the kids look exactly like Tien so far as Kaladin is concerned), Kaladin realizes that the Hunger Games are about kids dying, not about kids surviving. He decides that he has to save everyone, and quickly builds a coalition with the other tributes. They all die anyway and Kaladin wins.

He's not happy about it.

2. Shallan

Sadly, Shallan dies while trying unsuccessfully to convince a stick to become fire. Technically, I think this means the stick wins, but they give the award to some kid instead, for some reason.

3. Adolin

Adolin was doing really well until FOUR other tributes all decided to gang up on him. Even then, he fought like an uncaged tiger and very nearly survived. Nearly. (Hey, uh, most characters die in Hunger Games, right?)

4. Vin

Vin slices through the competition like a vengeful god. Emphasis on vengeful. And god. She barely even lets herself get distracted by the weird love triangle between that guy who wants to make the world better and the one who wants to burn it all down. She's too busy, like, killing everyone.

5. Zane

Zane thinks it's pretty swell to be in this killing arena killing people. What isn't swell is that Vin isn't into him, even AFTER their romantic killing spree. What gives? Anyway. Vin kills him.

6. Elend

Elend has a lot of thoughts about the sociological implications of the games. He does not have a lot of thoughts about how to sharpen a stick into a crude spear and ram it through someone's chest. (Is that what happens in the Hunger Games?) Regardless, I don't think he makes it long... Sorry, Elend.

7. Spook

Spook is a wraith. No one ever sees him coming. Or sees him at all. He keeps receiving supplies and weapons from a mysterious benefactor. At one point he starts wearing a handkerchief over his eyes and killing people by sound alone. I don't really see him winning, tbh (sorry Spook), but he is definitely a crowd favorite who makes it super far.

8. Szeth

"To kill innocent children for the amusement of distant viewers blackens my soul with a stain that shall never be removed. Oh, how I hate this. Oh, how I hate this senseless, senseless killing," Szeth thinks to himself as he constructs an unnecessarily elaborate death trap that kills his opponents horribly. "No one suffers like me," Szeth thinks, over all of the screaming.

9. Renarin

Hey remember when Renarin killed a Thunderclast mostly off-screen? Plus he has future sight. If they've got their powers in this game, then Radiant Renarin is probably taking it all. If not, well...let's not go there.

10. Vivenna

After her sister is sent as a tribute in Vivenna's place, Vivenna enters the Hunger Games anyway, determined to somehow put a stop to them. For example, she takes all the food she can find and hides it in one place so that it will be safe for everyone. She figures out how to predict supply drops to ensure that she always gets to them first. While convinced that she is the Hunger Games Breaker, she is actually the season's most notorious villain and eventually everyone bands together to kill her. Sorry, Vivenna.

11. Kelsier

Kelsier wins the hearts of viewers everywhere, mostly due to his determination to keep smiling no matter what horrors he must survive. He's, like, really good at killing people also. The Survivor, people call him. But when he is shockingly cut down and killed, his death galvanizes a rebellion against, uh, President Snow? Is that the big bad? Anyway. There's a religion about him now.

12. Ann

Oh, Ann. So excited to shoot guns. (Do they have guns?) So excited to shoot bows and arrows maybe. But she can't shoot worth a damn. She has a splendid time and hits no one. And, well, she does not win.

13. Cord

Frankly, Cord wants to win and bring glory and money (?) back home to her people, who desperately need it. I'm assuming the districts get stuff if their person wins. Cord is in it to win it. And she's awfully good with that bow and arrow...

14. Lift

Man, I don't want Lift to be in the Hunger Games! Lift thinks killing is lazy and boring! Sure, she'd be great at hiding in trees and getting food, but I definitely do not see Lift actually being able to kill anyone. Is that allowed? Will she be disqualified?

15. Tress

Tress looks at the Death Arena Whose Purpose Is Death and says, "But is anyone gonna Make Friends about it" and doesn't wait for an answer. Somehow, by the end, basically everyone IS friends. Except for that one person who really did want to kill. But she and Tress went off together and only Tress returned. So.

Basically, Tress's influence ruins the Hunger Games that year. Nobody wants the Friendship Games.

#Cosmere #Cosmerelists #Kaladin #Adolin #Shallan #Vin #Elend #Spook #Zane #Lift #Tress #Vivenna #Kelsier #Szeth #Ann #Renarin #Cord

[dailyadventureprompts]

Villain: The Gleebringer Battalions

Gallard Gleebringer only ever wanted to make people happy. By using his skills as a toymaker and inventor he sought to fill the world with devices that would bring wonder, and save people from the drugery of labor to give them more time for play.

Seeking to save his neighbours from the horrors of war, and under the patronage of the battlehungry local margrave, Gallard has a constructed an autonomous army of toy soldiers that in some weeks time will go berserk and begin rampaging across the land, playing out an inexplicable war-game that will leave villages sacked and the entire region destabilized.

It’s up to the party to notice the looming crisis and do something about it before the toys begin their march, As the powers that be are not only blind to the looming crisis but actively dismissive of any

Adventure Hooks:

Scraping together enough coin to fund a construct army has left the margrave’s treasury more than a little tight pursed, leading them to skimp on things like repairing infrastructure, public festivals, and resupplying their garrisons. There’s plenty of opportunities for adventurers as bandits and monsters propagate through the wilderness, and the lesser nobles rely on mercenaries to guard their holdings. Its only so long before the cracks begin to show however, as roads wash out and the realms defenders turn to brigandry. 

The party end up in a tavern drinking with an old military officer previously employed by the margrave. She’s iresome and illtempered, but she’ll crawl out of her cups long enough to tell the tale of how after twenty years of loyal service she was let go for protesting when some of the troops under her command were killed in a training exercise.  If the party press a little she might just let it slip that it wasn’t training so much as a field test of Gleebringer’s machines, which her boss insisted be against real troops. Later on, they’ll find an official bounty posted for the woman, who’s rallied some of her fellow discontented soldiers and started on a campaign of sabotage. 

For his part Gleebringer is quite blind to the looming threat, having been carried by his ever shifting attention to yet another new project once the design and manufacture of the armies were complete. The party might get a chance to talk to him however if they manage to sneak into the excursive exposition he's hosting in the province's capital, either by riding in on the coattails of a wealthy patron, or by sneaking in among the serving staff. Actually getting an audience with the toymaker will be even more difficult as the margrave has set his agents to watch and protect Gleebringer, and it's only so long before they notice the uninvited guest have crashed the private function.

Setup: While many gnomes dabble in artifice, it was early in his apprenticeship with the village toymaker that a young Gallard discovered both his love and prodigious talent for the technical arts. It wasn't just a magical knack, it was an eye for detail that had people saying that the gnome's creations seemed to be alive long before he figured out how to make them move on their own.

Soon Gleebringer toys were in demand across kingdoms, and Gallard found himself not only patronized by innumerable wealthy merchants and nobles but sought out by engineers and craftsfolk of all kinds who realized the genius packed away in his creations.

Gallard didn't let the fame or the fortune go to his head, instead using his growing connections and commission budget to experiment with even more complex designs. For example: scaling up from music boxes to clockwork bands, and eventually an automated opera house.

As a man who dreamed all his life of building a flying town, it was safe to assume that Gallard had his head in the clouds. He hated to see people suffer but seldom thought through the implications of his inventions, Such as when an automated lumber mill intended to supply materials for his projects put an entire town of foresters out of work. This penchant for distraction was only encouraged by the margrave, who saw the military applications of Gleebringer's gifts from the moment a clockwork dragon bought for one of his children ended up badly maiming one of the servants who saught to tidy up the toyblock castle it had been charged with guarding.

Over the past ten years, the Margrave has become Gallard's most generous patron, supplying him with workshops ( staffed by apprentaces who's loyalty can be counted on) and an endless series of new projects ( which always end up increasing the margrave's power and standing at the cost of the common good).

Art 1

Art 2

#villain #villain noble #villain artificer #artifice #construct #bounty #city encounter #tavern encounter #town encounter #gnome

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Kieran Kieran Kieran Kieran Kierannnnnn

Boi deserves more love cause he's truly one of the best characters in the entire franchise and they definitely did him justice with his story arc(Even if we made him get a ton of therapy and a near-death experience after his villain phase...)

With that, the fact that he can afford multiple tickets but not a phone is... Weird. However, that's where writers come in soooo- Can I please request the reader, Carmine, Paldea gang, and BB E4 throwing Kieran a surprise party and cashing in together to get him the lastest rotom phone with Applin/Hydrapple case?

Extra bonus if you're also able to include individual gifts that everyone would get Kiki

EXTREMELY BASED REQUEST <3333

......

One day it suddenly occurred to you, the BB E4, Carmine, and your Paldean friends that Kieran's 15th birthday was coming up and....according to his sister, he's never had a party.

You found that to be 100% unacceptable, and so you all decided to band together and plan one right in the League Club room.

Ofc you had to be sneaky about it, making it so that Kieran didn't suspect anything was up.

The biggest challenge--at least for the others--was figuring out what presents to give him.

But considering that he still doesn't have his own rotomphone (despite having more than enough money to get you, Arven, Penny, and Nemona plane tickets to Kitakami), it wasn't too difficult to decide what gift you wanted to get for him.

Luckily you had a Persian and Gholdengo who knew Pay Day and Make It Rain respectively and wore amulet coins, so you took them out to the terarium to battle other trainers, gathering more than enough cash to finally afford the gift.

When Kieran's birthday finally arrives...he's a little sad bc he only got a few wishes from random passerbys, and none from you or his friends or sister--who all seemed to have mysteriously vanished.

He thinks it's some prank and lowkey sulks as he shuffles to the clubroom....

Only to get startled when you all jump out and surprise him--with Ogerpon, Miraidon/Koraidon, and your Hydrapple (who was once the Applin he traded you) wearing party hats and kazoos--wishing him happy birthday.

Once his mini heartattack subsides, it takes a second for everything to sink in....before he gets extremely sappy and stands there with tears rolling down his face.

At first Crispin thinks he's genuinely upset and starts apologizing profusely, thinking the group had the wrong date-

"N-No, it's today. I'm just....wowzers.." Kieran laughs, wiping away his tears. "You all..really did this for me?"

"It took careful planning and precarious coordination." Amarys speaks up with a smile of her own. "We have [y/n] to thank for orchestrating this. But I could understand if it caused you some minor distress this morning."

He just waves her off, reassuring her that everything's good now, and soon the festivities commence!

You gift him the latest Rotomphone, having commissioned for it to have an Applin phonecase (even with its own tail and eyestalks) that shimmered in the sunlight, with all of the features offered by the League Club's BP system already unlocked.

Ofc, it may take him a while to learn how to use them all...but he's SO happy and hugs you tightly.

He lowkey forgot that everyone else got him a present, too, and lets you go to open them.

Carmine, knowing her brother, gave him an assortment of chocolate (but insisted that he didn't eat all of it at once and had actual food every now and then).

Amarys gave him a single heavy ball with a Shiny Aron inside. She doesn't think it's much but gets flustered when he smiles and thanks her with a hug, too.

Lacey gifts him a Granbull plushie, and at first she thinks it may be too "cutesy" for him, but he holds onto it tight and insists that he loves it.

Crispin and Arven got together to gift him a cookbook they collaborated on: half the recipes are spicy dishes and the other half contains sandwich recipes.

Drayton presents him with an empty friend ball, and inside was a Wimpod keychain and a note that basically says "sry for calling you ex-champ, ex-champ".

Fortunately they both kinda got over that grudge and could laugh about it now.

Penny got him the same Eevee backpack that she has (after recalling how he stared at it one too many times back in Kitakami and played with the ears when she left it unattended for a few mins) and initially feels awkward, but he adores it and promises to swap his old bag out from time to time.

Nemona gave him a whole bag of EV-boosting items (carbos, zinc, feathers, mints, you name it) for his team so their next battle could be even MORE exciting....and he's embarrassed to admit his competitive team's stats are already maxed out, but he'll use them for his casual team.

All in all, the party is a huge success.

It's definitely one Kieran would never forget, and he's so, so grateful to have real friends who did all of this for him--especially you.

#clanask #pokemon x reader #pokemon sv x reader #pokemon scarlet x reader #pokemon violet x reader #pokemon kieran #pokemon arven #pokemon nemona #pokemon penny #pokemon carmine #bb elite four #headcanons #birthday #fluff

[ghostsy]

Let's Get Physical

WARNINGS: yandere, stalking, possessiveness, nsfw, dub/noncon, non-consenual implications, toxic relationship, implied imprisonment, misogyny, manipulation, gaslighting, depression, anxiety

read at your own discretion.

yandere ! BAKUGOU KATSUKI X READER

“Fuck–you tryna break my damn fingers off?” 

“Don’t be a baby. Besides, shouldn’t you be used to this by now?” She rolled her eyes playfully, smiling as her hands worked at his own, stretching his fingers backwards, and pressed her thumbs to his palm.

“Quit grinnin’, creep.” He sat cross-legged in front of her on the floor of his home gym, studying her as she worked. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Her eyes narrowed in concentration, and she stifled a smirk when he hissed. “Are you sure you even know what a grin is? Can’t say I’ve ever seen you give one.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” Still, a smile tugged at his lips, “Y’know, this could constitute abuse of power.”

“It’s called physical therapy, you manchild.” She placed his hand down on his thigh, and picked up the other to start her work, fingers massaging across the palm.

He puffed out his cheeks, “It’s called torture,” Grumbling as he averted his gaze.

“It’s called, Mr. Big Strong Number Two went and snapped his tendons tryna blow up an entire villain army by himself.”

“That’s a funny way a’ sayin’ thank you.”

“If I recall correctly, you were thanked plenty three months ago–when it happened–if your popularity numbers are any indication.” She caught sight of the twist at his lips, and gave a soft smile. “But, I suppose I can stand to add another. Thank you.”

He coughed awkwardly, red dusting his cheeks, “Yeah. Whatever.”

They settled into a comfortable silence, the occasional grunt and hiss interrupting, but not disrupting the peace. She placed his hand down, and went to sort through her gym bag on the floor beside them.

Pulling out a stretch band, she wrapped it around his fingers. He knew the drill by now, and as he began to stretch, brows furrowed as he strained, she let out a happy giggle.

“See! You can hold about three inches further; you’re getting better. Just a few more sessions with me, and a healing quirk can do the rest!” She clapped her hands together, and though he felt like screaming in frustration at the effort it took, when he caught sight of the glimmer in her eyes, he softened, letting out a sigh.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t go expectin’ a five star Yelp review or somethin’ now.” She caught the flicker of amusement in his eyes, and a sly smile spread on her lips.

“Weren’t you banned from Yelp after–”

“Shut the fuck up.” Though, the look on his face told her he wasn’t too torn up about the jab.

And the comfortable silence resumed as the clock ticked by. He couldn’t remember when this had become familiar–when she had become familiar.

But he was sure that had he been forced to spend three months straight with any other stranger–or friend, for that matter–he would have thrown himself and them from his penthouse window by now. 

As they went through the motions, some easier than others with his…injury, he found himself sneaking glances at her face. He noticed a lot about her in these past months. Her nose always twitched whenever she’d present him a new technique to try; he’d chalked it up to nerves–cute–cute, that she thought to be nervous, as if he’d fail, he corrected himself. 

And right now, with her shoulders swaying back and forth to an inaudible song as she watched him stretch, he noted comfort, content. Her head bobbed with the motions––little thing never could sit still, could she?--and he found himself fighting a smile. Though, it fell pretty quickly when he saw her glance at the wall clock, and fumble to stuff her equipment into her bag.

“Oh my god, it’s late–I should–Good work today!” She gathered her things, and his brows furrowed as he watched her. There was a twist in his chest as he saw her scramble–where was she going in such a hurry?

“Where ya goin’?” He never was great at poker, but he still cursed himself for the way she furrowed her brows, catching the irritated edge in his voice.

She sighed, brushing it off as his usual grumpiness, “As lovely company as you are, it’s well past our time, and I have another appointment in the morning.”

“Since when?” Logically he knew that he couldn’t be her only client, but to hear her say it ground his nerves. After all, he was sure that it had been just the two of them for a while now.

“It’s always one injury or another. Y’know, for a job that means helping others, you heroes are pretty shit at taking care of yourselves.” She giggled, and while the sound eased his nerves, there was a nagging at the back of his mind.

“Hey, you eaten yet?” He trailed after her into the foyer, and a part of his brain mocked him for how pathetic he must sound–him, of all people, begging some quirkless nobody–no, not nobody, but still–begging her to stay.

She paused, turning to glance at him; a sheepish look washed over her face as she huffed an embarrassed chuckle, hand reaching to scratch at the back of her head. His eyes narrowed, but as he went to take her bag from her shoulder, she pulled from his grip.

“I’m sure I can grab a granola bar or something from the convenience store on my block, don’t worry about–”

“Fuckin’ dumbass, now who’s shit at takin’ care a’ themselves?” He ignored the knit in her brow, and moved towards the kitchen, “I got tons of shit leftover. Sit. Eat.”

She sighed, and brushed him off with another chuckle, “Maybe another time. I really should get some sleep. And so should you–rest helps the healing process. I’ll see you in a few days.”

He watched her for a beat, before deciding. He nodded, “Yeah, yeah. See ya.”

She flashed a smile and a little wave before heading out the door. He waited for a bit after it clicked shut, watching the hands tick by on the clock.

One minute. 

Two.

 Five. 

He shuffled towards his closet, throwing an old hoodie over his head with minimal strain. This isn’t creepy. He reminded himself. Idiot’s gonna get herself killed walkin’ home this late.

His face heated as he pulled up the hood. Wearin’ those spandex shorts–honestly, she was lucky he was a fuckin’ gentleman. He huffed, and headed for the door, following after her with the confidence of a man who had done so too many times before.

.♡.

“Damn, I’m jealous, if I knew all it took for some alone time with a bitch that hot was to snap my tendons–”

“Don’t be fucking gross.” He scoffed, shoving the other blonde, eyebrow twitching at the shit-eating grin his friend flashed. Maybe this was a bad idea; he scanned the men around the breakroom table–fuck, he shoulda just figured it out himself.

The other man raised his hands in mock surrender, “All I’m sayin’, bro, is if I were you, I’d a’ made a move the second a piece of ass that sweet walked itself through my door.” He turned back to the udon in front of him, digging in, broth splashing messily across his face.

He scrunched his nose in disgust, “Yeah, well I ain’t you. I’m not jumpin’ in the pants of the first bitch who opens ‘er legs for me.” He played with his own chopsticks, frustrated with the dismissal.

“Good thing too,” The raven haired man laughed, “Sparky over here’s probably got every disease in the book with the holes he sticks his dick in.” He tossed an arm around the other blonde, whose face twisted in mock hurt. 

“Least I can get it wet, Tape Boy.” The two shoved at each other, laughing, but the click of a tongue brought his attention to the unamused redhead at the end of the table.

“But she isn’t just another hole,” The shark-toothed man’s lip twisted at the last word, “This is the first time you’ve actually liked a chick. You should–”

“Who the fuck says I like her?” One glance at the unimpressed look from his friend had his face heat as he coughed, averting his gaze.

“You haven’t said shit since the incident,” The man began, “And the first thing we hear from you about the whole thing is if we know your physical therapist.”

“She works with heroes; sue me for thinkin’ you idiots might a’ met or somethin’.”

“Okay, but why are you askin’ about her schedule?”

He clicked his tongue against his teeth, shoving his chair back, “Forget it.” As he went to leave, the other two men jeered.

“Aww, come back! Embrace the feelings, bro!”

“Beautiful. Our little boy’s growin’ up!”

.♡.

He stormed into his office, huffing. Fuck it. If he was gonna be here, he might as well get some paperwork done. He collapsed in his chair, head to his hands as he groaned. The sound of the door opening caught his attention.

“You really need to stop stormin’ outta places before people can respond.” He rolled his eyes, ignoring the redhead, and turned to shuffle through the mass of papers on his desk. 

“Yeah, well Tweedle Dumb and Dumber needa learn to keep their damn mouths shut.”

“Ah. They don’t mean any harm,” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly, “Locker room talk, y’know?”

He scoffed, “What do you want?” Mood soured, his patience was running thin.

“I think I know that client you were talkin’ about–the appointment she had today.”

Now that caught his interest. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. But yer not gonna like the answer.”

.♡.

Bang! Bang!

“Oi, open up.”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

“I know you’re here, you bastard. Open the fuck up!”

BANG! BA–

“It’s five in the morning. I was asleep.” The man in question responded as the door creaked open, his red and white hair mussed, and sticking up in odd places.

He rubbed at his eyes, meeting the other’s gaze, much too intense for five in the morning–though, did the word calm ever really exist in the ash blonde’s vocabulary? 

“You break any bones? Strain a muscle? What? ‘Cause from here I can’t see shit wrong with you.”

“I’m confused. Should ‘shit be wrong with me?’” Jesus fucking Christ. He wanted to rip his hair out; there was obtuse, and then there was just plain annoying. In the years he’d known this man, he’d managed to toe the line perfectly. A talent, truly.

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, “You wouldn’t be hangin’ around my woman if it wasn’t…or you tellin’ me there’s another reason she’s been showin’ up at your door?”

“You have a woman?”

Are you fucking kid–

“I’m kidding.” Coulda fooled him. He met bi-colored eyes, dull as ever, and mouth set in a straight line.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re fuckin’ hilarious, now–”

A yawn interrupted him, “I’ve been informed of the situation,” Situation? “Nerve damage. Ice quirks will do that after a while. I apologize if I overstepped in my attempt to keep all my fingers intact.” A couple stiff, discolored digits waved in his face.

Yeah, sarcasm didn’t suit him. “Fuck off.” It was half a joke, but still–

“You showed up at my house.” Okay, he’d had enough. He turned to leave, but the other cleared his throat. “Though, a small piece of advice–”

“Advice?” He was getting angry again, which only flared up as a smirk formed on the other man’s face.

“Poor thing’s convinced she may have a stalker.” Shit. “I’m sure as the Number Two, you’ll be able to make her feel safe, won’t you?” Slimy bastard. 

He huffed, turning away, “Yeah, yeah. Fuck off back to sleep, ya damn space heater, I got it.” There was a hum as the door clicked shut.

He was left with his thoughts as he jogged down the sidewalk–might as well get his morning run in–but, still, why hadn’t she told him about her stalker? I mean…she trusted him, didn’t she? Ugh. This was getting annoying. He needed a plan.

.♡.

“Fuck is that?”

She hissed a bit as she took his hand into her own, palm stinging a bit from underneath its bandage.

“Oh, nothing,” She smiled sheepishly, “It’s what I get for letting my friend talk me into buying one of those fancy reflex hammers.”

At the tilt of his head and furrow of his brow, she clarified, “Real sharp at the tip, ads say that’s what makes it sleek.” She chuckled a bit, and he hummed in response. She watched him for a bit, his jaw flexing a bit in frustration.

“You’ve been awfully quiet today–what, no complaints to lodge?” She giggled, but the furrow in his brow had her creasing her own. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

He snapped back to reality, pulling his gaze from where her fingers worked at his hands, “Sorry, just distracted, I guess.”

“That’s alright. What’s going on?”

He sighed, “Stopped by the office the other day–’parently crime’s been shootin’ up all around Japan.”

“And you’re upset you can’t help out yet?”

“‘S fuckin’ frustratin’, being the Number Two, and sittin’ around all day gettin’ massages while there are murderers and rapists and stalkers runnin’ fuckin’ rampant in the streets.”

She swallowed, but tried to neutralize her expression, giving a weary smile, “Oh? Lots of stalkers nowadays?” She focused her gaze back on his hands.

“Been tons a’ reports all over the city–victims are–”

“Victims?” The hiss from his mouth told her she was pressing too hard, “Sorry, sorry! Just…it’s all a bit scary isn’t it? And victims usually means…” She released his hand to sort through her bag, picking through the equipment, handing him a grip strengthener, and turned her gaze to meet his own.

“Nah, ‘s not your fault; I shouldn’t be freakin’ you out with all the details–”

“No! I mean, no. It’s okay. I want–I mean, I’m curious–what are the details?”

He gave her a look, and she cursed herself for her slip up. In the months she’d known this man, she’d realized he was one of the most annoyingly observant people she’d ever met, and while she usually found his borderline anal attention to detail endearing, she’d really hoped to keep this from him–he had more than enough on his plate already–to make him worry over someone like her would be selfish.

“The fuck’s wrong with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Yer actin’ like you’re bein’ stalked or some shit.” Fuck. Did he have some second quirk? Could he read minds?

“What? No, I’m not. I’m just…curious.” Yeah. Thank god she hadn’t gone into acting. At the unimpressed quirk of his brow she sighed, “I mean…It’s probably nothing, I’m sure I’m just–I’m just paranoid or something.”

“What the fuck? And you didn’t tell me?”

“It’s probably nothing!  And..well, you’re so busy–recovery, and tryna get back in the field so you can…I just didn’t want to bother you.” She took a piece of hair in her hands, twirling and tugging as she avoided his gaze. “It’d be unprofessional of me to–”

“You gotta report that shit, dumbass!” The grip strengthener creaked with the strength at which his hand clutched at it. “‘’Sides, it’s not botherin’ me,'' Her cheeks colored, “It’s my job.” Oh. Right.

She wrapped another contraption around his fingers, gesturing for him to stretch as she took the other from his grip, “I’ve got it covered. Promise,” She sighed, “And I did report it, I just figured you had enough on your plate. Seriously, don’t worry about it.”

He rolled his eyes, “I’m walkin’ you home,”  She opened her mouth to protest, “Shut the fuck up. I ain’t askin’.” 

She sighed, but nodded,“Okay.” Her chest warmed a bit as a small smile pulled at her lips.

And the silence resumed, tense, but not with awkward or anxious energy, she realized. She snuck a few glances at him throughout the rest of their session. He really was a good man, wasn’t he? And, catching sight of the sharp curve of his jaw–handsome, too.

She chided herself for thinking so, but really–what was the harm in thoughts?--it was simply an observation, nothing more.

.♡. 

“It’s fuckin’ efficient. ‘Nuf said.”

“It’s fuckin’ geriatric is what it is.” She laughed, “What twenty-six year old goes to sleep at eight p.m.?” She craned her head up to catch sight of the red dusting his cheeks as they walked down the street.

“Call me geriatric all you want, but don’t come cryin’ to me when you’re fifty and yer face is saggin’ cause you never got a good night’s sleep.” She gasped, hitting him lightly on the shoulder as a smile tugged at his lips.

“You should know better than to call a woman wrinkly.”

“Good advice. Lemme know when you see one.”

She smacked his arm again as the two of them laughed, settling once she caught sight of the setting sun. “Thank you. For walking me home; it really–I mean, it’s–”

“Stop thankin’ me for givin’ a shit about you, you fuckin’ creep,” Her cheeks colored as she avoided his gaze, and he sighed, ruffling her hair a bit, “‘Sides, someone’s gotta look out for you; you’re sure as hell not gonna do it for yourself.”

She gasped in mock offense, “I’ll have you know, when I was younger, I was a certified blue belt in my–”

“Isn’t that really fuckin’ low?”

“Shut up,” They laughed lightly, and she turned to him as they came upon her doorstep. “Well, this is me.”

There was an awkward pause, and he coughed lightly, avoiding her gaze, “Right. Cool. I guess I’ll see ya–”

“You wanna come in?” She surprised herself with the words, but the red coloring his cheeks warmed her chest and eased her nerves. This was fine. They were friends.

“You sure?” Despite all the rumors and all the gossip, he really was a gentleman. Well, she’d come to know that these past months, but like this was an entirely different matter. She wasn’t quite sure why, though.

“Yeah. I mean, I haven’t eaten yet–figured you might wanna hang out and yell at me for a bit about it.” She laughed lightly, pushing the keys into the lock, and brushed her hair from her eyes.

“I’ll do you one better.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I’ll cook you dinner, and yell at you about it.” She opened her mouth, but a devious smirk spread across his face, “‘Less yer one of those losers with an empty fridge, and cabinet full a’ junk.”

She pushed the door open, “How dare you,” She flashed a cheeky smile as she led him inside, “Instant ramen is the food of the gods.”

.♡.

“You need to be more careful!” She chided as she wiped at the cut on his face, “You’ve only been back in the field for a month, you can’t just–”

A hiss interrupted her, and she pulled the alcoholic wipe away from his cheek as he sighed, “You rather I let a building fall on a buncha kids?”

She rolled her eyes, but resumed her work, “No. But, I’d rather you have at least an ounce of self-preservation–besides, I’m not sure how many wraps and casts and wipes we’ve got left in the budget.”

A sly smirk spread on his face, “Oh. I see,” He readjusted her in his lap as she wiped at his wounds, “Yer in physical therapist mode right now, huh? And here I thought my girl might actually be worried about me for a second.”

She smacked lightly at his arm, setting down her wipes to peck at his cheek, “I can be in physical therapist mode and girlfriend mode when it means you’ve gone off and gotten yourself hurt again.”

She rolled off his lap, tossing the bloody tissues in the trash as he trailed after her into the bathroom. She opened the cabinets, bending over to sort through the shelves. He grabbed her by the hips, and she shoved him off playfully.

“Not now, horny. I’m looking for a wrap.”

“Ah. Think we’re out.”

She stood, smacking him lightly, “See! What was I just saying?”

“I’ll head to the store in the morning, just come to bed,” He groaned, turning her in his arms, “‘M tired.”

She gave him a skeptical look before glancing down briefly, “I think your little friend may disagree.”

“Who you callin’ little?” His hands snaked down, pinching at the swell in her ass as she squealed, pushing out of his arms, and trailed into the bedroom. She glanced around, stopping once she spotted his closet door.

“Hey, where ya goin’?” He stalked after her.

“I don’t trust you. I’m gonna check for more first aid supplies.” She walked towards the closet, and, following her gaze, he pulled her by the wrist, bouncing her backwards onto the bed. She yelped as he collapsed on top of her, “What the hell? Get off! I can’t–can’t breathe–”

“Nah. Like I said, ‘m tired.”

She giggled out his name, trying to push the hulking mass off of her, “I’m serious! You’re–you’re hurt, we need to take care of–”

“We need to take care a’... what was it you said? My little friend?” One of his hands worked its way up her shirt as he readjusted them on the bed, “Only thing that’s hurtin’ right now is my ego…little, I should take you over my damn knee for that, y’know.” 

She laughed, sighing as his fingers made their way under her bra, “You’re so—you’re such a baby.”

“Oh yeah?” His thumb swirled her nipple as he smirked. Legs thrown over his shoulders, she looked up at him between half-lidded eyes while he worked off her shirt.

“Yeah.” She let out a breath as a tingling in her gut started to form. His canines grazed her neck, tongue flicking out to lick a stripe up the warm flesh.

“We’ll see about that.” He bit down, chuckling deeply at the whimper forced from her lips.

.♡. 

“Please–please–I don’t–I think someone’s here, I’m sorry to–to call you, but–”

“Stay right fuckin’ there. I’ll be there in five.”

“I’m–It’s pretty far, are you sure–”

“I can run. Stay on the–” She pressed the end button as at the sound of a bang–a door kicked open. The coat closet maybe? That means they were close. Too close. She pulled her knees closer to her chest, eyes squeezing shut, reopening with fresh, hot tears. 

Slow and steady, the sound of footfall was creaking down the wooden expanse of her hallway. Headed towards her, she realized. No. Please. She clutched her hand to her face, fingers pinching her nose to quiet the sounds of her breathing. This was it, wasn’t it? This was–

BANG! 

And then a frenzy of footsteps, crazed and seemingly unaware of their destination filled her ears. A shout. A shout? Wait…was that–but still, she didn’t dare breathe. Not until–

“Where the fuck are you?” The sound of her name being growled from a familiar baritone brought her back to reality, and she shakily pushed the door to the closet open from her place curled up on the floor.

“He–Here. I’m–I’m here.” The edge of her voice was cracking with tears as he pushed into the room, kneeling in front of her collapsed form. He gathered her in his arms, and the dam broke, snot and tears staining the soft polyester of his shirt as he carried her to the bed.

“Dumbass–scared the shit outta me–I told you to stay on the fucking–”

“Sorry–I’m sorry. I’m–I was just–I’m sorry…” She balled the fabric of his shirt in her fists as she sobbed. A large hand came to pet her hair, soothing her as it pulled the wet strands from her face, and tucked them behind her ear.

“S’ okay. I know. I’m here–you’re okay.” He sighed, burying his nose into her hair, taking a breath as his other arm soothed at her back. She sighed, gathering herself as she pushed a little bit out of his arms to meet his eyes.

“I–I just got home and–and all my drawers–they were open, and so I…” She sighed shakily, swallowing her tears, “Some of my clothes–my underwear–it’s gone, I–it’s getting worse, they’ve never–not until today–never come inside.” Her eyes shifted, “Well…I don’t think they have, but that’s…”

“That’s it,” She looked up at him, caught off guard a bit by the edge in his voice, “This shit is getting ridiculous. Yer movin’ in.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but a sharp look from crimson eyes killed the words in her throat. He sighed, readjusting her in his lap, taking her face in his hand as he pressed a peck to her jaw.

“I don’t wanna–I don’t wanna force ya, but shit, babe, this is…” He sighed, “‘M not always gonna be nearby on patrol, and if somethin’ happened to you, I’d never fuckin’ forgive myself. Even tonight–motherfucker got away from me.”

“I know,” She sagged, wrapping her arms around his middle, sighing, “I just…I feel so–this isn’t what you signed up for–I don’t want to be a burden to–”

“Shut the fuck up,” She jumped a bit, and his fingers spidered down her back in placation, “Sorry. Just…yer not a damn burden. I fuckin’...” She looked up to see red crawling up his neck and color his cheeks as he avoided her gaze, “I fuckin’ love you.”

He looked down at her now, and her breath hitched in her throat at the intensity burning in his eyes.

She felt heat crawl up her own cheeks, and a smile pulled at her lips despite herself–despite the situation, “Sorry, what was that?”

“I said I fuckin’--demon woman, fuck you.” He scoffed, but the hand at her back didn’t stop its ministrations, even as she giggled.

“No, I’m serious. I didn’t–I didn’t hear you, can’t you–ah!” He rolled them over, collapsing on top of her on the bed.

“Sorry. Can’t remember.” His hands trailed up her sides, and she began to squeal, laughing.

“Stop–Stop! Too–Too ticklish–please!” 

“Huh? What was that?” She shrieked, trying and failing to wiggle from beneath his assault on her sides.

“I said–I said I–I love you!” He stopped his torture, smirking down at her as she caught her breath.

“Damn right.” He dipped down, pecking her lips.

.♡.  

“And you’re sure it’s alright?”

“For the four hundredth time, yes. It’s more than fine; I’m the one who fuckin’ offered.”

She rocked back and forth on her heels in the elevator, various boxes and suitcases littered around the two of them as they headed for the penthouse floor. “I know, it’s just…”

“Stop that–I know that face; you’re fuckin’ fine–I love you. I want you here, you idiot.”

She sighed, nodding to herself as she watched the floors climb on the wall of the elevator. “Okay. Okay, yeah. I love you too.” Internally she calmed; it would be nice to sleep without waking up every hour paranoid that she’d heard the snap of a camera.

The sound of a ding pulled her from her thoughts, and she readjusted the boxes in her arms as the doors slid open, and the two made their way into the penthouse living room. She caught sight of the floor to ceiling windows, and set down her things while he worked to unpack. He nodded towards the bedroom.

“You’ve been here plenty a’ times. Feel free to take a shower or somethin’, and I’ll start on dinner. We’ll unpack as we go.”

She nodded, sending one more glance back to the expanse of skyline beneath her, finding that no matter how familiar she was with the view, her legs would never fail to shake with anxiety at the sight of the clouds hugging the edges of the buildings, obscuring her view of the bottom–of the rest of the world. She turned to head towards the bedroom.

“Gotta spare towel an’ shit for ya in there!” He called after her as she disappeared behind the door before he set her things down, heading for the open-floor kitchen. 

.♡.  

She stepped out of the shower, tightly wrapping a towel around herself, and swiped away at the condensed water clinging to the mirror to catch sight of her own reflection. She sighed, nodding to herself; this was fine. They loved each other–who cares that they’d only been together a couple months–they’d known each other longer; that had to count for something, right?

She groaned, moving into the bedroom to search for her clothes. Oh. Right. She thought to call for him, but, peeking out the crack in the door, found him, brows furrowed, chopping furiously at onions in the kitchen. Cute. She scanned the room, finding his closet door, and decided to search through his own clothes–he liked to give her shirts to wear, anyways.

She opened the door, stepping inside the large walk-in, and sifted through his drawers, pulling on a pair of boxers. She glanced around in search of a comfortable shirt, eyes catching on a small door–almost a cabinet–hidden on the back wall behind the racks. How curious. She kneeled down, and moved to open it, but–

“The fuck are you doin’?”

She yelped, hitting her head on the rack, hissing, and turned to face him, a sheepish look washing over her face, “Oh! Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to pry, I just–”

“I told ya I set shit out for ya.” The agitation in his voice set a strange feeling alight in her mind, but she brushed it off as his usual obsessive-compulsive nature. 

She rubbed at her head, half-sheepish, half soothing the pain, and smiled, “I’m sorry. I didn’t see anything out there. I didn’t mean to snoop. Really.”

He studied her for a moment, but huffed, and gestured with his eyes to follow him into the bedroom. He glanced around, finding folded up clothes fallen half-way beneath the bed on the dark-wood floor. He kneeled, picking them up, and handed her the shirt, moving into his closet to return the rest.

“Musta fallen off the bed. Sorry.” His voice was a bit muffled by the distance, “Didn’t mean to freak out on ya. Been meanin’ to seal that shit up for a while now. Damn rats keep gettin’ in.” 

“It’s okay. I’m sorry for not asking you.” She threw the black skull shirt over her head as he returned, shutting the closet door. “I know how you feel about your privacy, so…”

“Yeah. Yer fine,” He moved closer, kissing the crown of her head, “Dinner’s almost ready. ‘M fuckin’ beat. Let’s start unpacking tomorrow.”

.♡. 

“And there’s nothing? Not one clue?” She folded up her clothes in the bedroom’s new wardrobe. He’d told her that the closet was being renovated to fit the two of them, providing her an expensive but temporary solution. 

“‘M just as frustrated as you, babe. How do you think I feel, bein’ a top hero and still not bein’ able to protect my girl.” He huffed, handing her articles of clothing from a half-unpacked box as they talked.

“You’ve done more than protect me; it’s not your fault,” She sighed, fingers flexing, tightening subconsciously on the shirt she was holding, “I just…”

“I know, and…” He clicked his tongue, scanning her, “Yer not gonna like what I haveta say next.”

She swallowed, and he watched her throat bob, steeling his nerves. He was so close. He set the box aside, gesturing for her to join him on the bed. She sat herself in his lap, and he brushed her hair from her face, sighing, avoiding her gaze for good measure. Really draw it out.

“I think you should quit yer job.”

“What? Why would I–”

“Just fer now,” His hand soothed at her thigh, “‘An’ I can take care a’ things. Just ‘til shit dies down.” Yeah. That sounds good. And if shit just happens not to die down…Well, he was more than happy to provide.

“I thought you said you didn’t have any clues.”

Sometimes he wished he was attracted to dumber women. She pushed off his lap, and resumed her work, stuffing clothes inside the drawers with renewed anger.

He realized he didn’t appreciate her anger–did she not realize he was trying to keep her safe? It’s fine. He could fix that. He stood, hand to her shoulder to turn her, and calm her.

“Not any solid ones, but,” His eyes shifted, searching for the words, “Yer always comin’ back late–by yourself–if they found where you were livin’--you think they don’t know where yer workin’?” It was a bit hard not to revel for a bit in the irony–made him feel powerful–but it also made him realize just how weak she was, how unaware, how fragile. 

“Well…they haven’t followed me here.”

“Cause this place is maximum fuckin’ security,” He smirked, chest puffing a bit as a sort of sick pride bloomed in his chest,“‘Sides, ain’t no one’s messin’ with the Number Two. Heh. Love to see ‘em try.”

She rolled her eyes, pushing his hand from her shoulder, and made her way to the living room to retrieve another box, “I’m glad you’re feeling safe.” Okay, fine. Probably not the best time to be peacocking, but really, would a pat on the back kill her?

“That ain’t what I meant. Hey,” He trailed after her, “‘M serious. Sue me fer wantin’ you alive.”

She swallowed, avoiding her eyes. Whatever. He sighed internally. He really didn’t like scaring her. But honestly, she needed to learn: he was going to get his way–this was for her own good. He’d seen so much death and destruction in his short life, so much pain and suffering and–nevermind that–he would make sure she didn’t have to, no matter what she had to say about it.

“Hey,” His voice softened as he approached her, “Just…just promise you’ll think about it, alright?” He brought a hand to her cheek, and she leaned in, sighing.

She nodded, “Alright.”

.♡. 

Ring ring!  Ring ring!  Ring ri–

Your call has been forwarded to the voicemail for–

“Shit. Please. Come on…”

Ring ring! 

“Come on, come on.”

Ring ring! 

“Answer. Answer. Please answer.”

Ring ri–

Your call has been for–

“Shit!” She clamped a hand over her mouth, eyes darting side to side, and glanced over her shoulder as she sped down the dimly lit sidewalk.

Just her luck, she thought. Take on a new client, you said. It’ll be fine, you said. Who cares that they live in the middle of goddamn nowhere? The trains will still be running; it won’t be too late. Idiot. 

She huffed, heart threatening to beat out of her chest; every shifting shadow was a threat; every kick of a stray rock, every honk of a distant car horn–everything–was sending lightning through her nerves, blood roaring so loudly in her ears she could barely hear herself think. 

The fall of a raindrop on her nose had her jump, though she began to groan as the pitter-patter of rainfall filled the streets. But then—

“You look lost, pretty girl.” A deep, distorted chuckle cut through her resolve as if it were made of ribbons, and her legs sprung forward before she could think to turn around.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Not now; please not now.

Running frantically and without direction, she turned left then right then left then right then right again, lungs burning, and tears obscuring her vision, not knowing if her breath and voice were stolen by exertion or terror or both.

She slowed once she gathered herself enough to take in her surroundings. Where was she? And then, interrupting her thoughts, a slow, heavy footfall, too casual, too comfortable, started to make its way towards her.

“It’s rude to ignore people, you know,” No. Fuck. Left? Right? Where was home? Where was–“Hey, I’m fuckin’ talkin’ to you, bitch.”

Fuck it. Left it was. Her gym bag jostled on her shoulder, a stray, initialed gym towel flying from the partially opened side-compartment into the wind behind her as she took off. 

“Hey! Get the fuck back here!” 

She turned briefly over her shoulder to catch sight of the figure–dressed in all black, head to toe–and let out a cry, pushing forward again, “Please! Leave me alone! I don’t know–I don’t know what you want from me!” Right.

There was that ugly laugh again, closer than before, and she willed her burning legs and lungs forward. Left. Back on the main road, good.

“Aww, I just wanna talk is all. What,” The voice turned darker, “You don’t wanna talk?”

Terrifying implications aside, she was nearly annoyed with him–him?--annoyed with what little effort he seemed to put into hunting her like some animal, not having even broken a sweat in his pursuit. She tossed her gym bag from her shoulder, hitting him square in the face, running with renewed vigor.

“Ah-Fuck! Bitch!”

She turned down another alley; maybe she could throw him off her trail. Fuck it. Turning again and again and again until she could no longer hear the sounds of wet shoes slapping the pavement behind her. She looked over her shoulder: nothing. Looking left, looking right: nothing. Only the sound of rainshower pouring down as if angry in and of itself. Join the club.

The quiet was nearly unsettling, but she forced a sigh from her lungs, deciding to stealthily find her way out of the maze she’d created for herself without alerting her predator. Which way was it now? Ugh. Maybe…that way? She turned–

Slam!

Her face hit a brick wall–no–her face hit a warm chest as hard as a brick wall. Fuck. This was it. She was going to die, right? She didn’t want to die. She swallowed, chest tightening, and nausea building, but–

“Holy shit! You’re fuckin’ freezing!”

She looked up to find scarlet eyes wide with worry, his large hands rubbed up and down her freezing wet arms, soothing the hairs stood on end. She let out a shaky sigh as she studied his face, half in disbelief and half in sheer relief. Though, her brow furrowed, shaking her head a bit in confusion upon spotting the pink strap of her gym bag hanging loosely from his shoulder.

“What–Where did you find that?”

“Huh?”

“My bag. Where did you find my bag?” She was getting agitated. This was paranoia, right? She pulled from his grip, noting the slight narrowing of his eyes before they returned to their previous concern. Was she imagining things? He put his hands up in surrender.

“Woah, chill, chill! I was out fuckin’ lookin’ for you. Left my phone at home while I was on my run, just got yer messages when I came back, and sprinted fer my fuckin’ life into the pourin’ rain tryna find you. I just found the damn thing abandoned on the side a’ the road.”

He sighed, taking a wet and matted strand of her hair from her cheek, brushing it behind her ear, “Yer gonna send me to an early fuckin’ grave y’know. When I saw it layin’ there on the street, I thought…” He swallowed, avoiding her gaze, voice cracking, “I thought you were…”

How cruel she was. To throw such accusations. She fell into his arms, out of guilt or adoration, she didn’t know, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to–I keep making you worry, and–I just–I was so…” Her voice left her, sobs overtaking her body.

He comforted her in his embrace while the rain poured down around them, sticking their hair to their faces and clothes to their skin, stray raindrops catching on their eyelashes as they pulled away to find each other’s gazes. 

And, with tears and rain mixing on their cheeks, he brought his lips to her own, breath warming her cold lips before she pushed forward, arms tangling in his hair as his own locked around her waist, tight and close and safe. Safe. A shared thought between them, though, with two entirely different meanings.

.♡. 

“Gotta call the Commission. Had half the damn city out searchin’ for ya.” His thumb swiped over her cheek, eyes giving her a once-over–freshly showered with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, teacup steaming in her hands as she sat, in her silk pajamas and fuzzy socks, curled up on the living room couch.

She nodded, and he leaned down to kiss her forehead before excusing himself. The murmur of the sugary-sweet, altogether too happy movie he’d put on faded to the background as she turned to watch the skyline beneath her, a gray film obscuring the warm yellows and oranges that glowed in the distance. 

She sighed, mentally kicking herself for her stubbornness. He had warned her this may happen. And because of her arrogance, Japan’s best heroes were wasting their time searching for her when they had much more important things to be doing–real problems to deal with. How selfish. She huffed, swiping away a stray tear, and turned to smile at him as he returned.

“Yeah yeah. I owe ya one. Now fuck off, would you?” Ending the call, he fell into the seat beside her, hand rubbing down his face, exhausted. That’s your fault. 

She sighed, “Is everything okay?”

He looked at her, giving a weary smile, and her chest burned, “Mm. All good. We should be worryin’ about you, dumbass.” No, we shouldn’t.

She swallowed, scooching closer to him on her couch, “I was–I think that,” she huffed, trying to ignore the tightness in her chest, “You were right. I’ll–if it’s still alright, I can stop working for a bit. So you don’t have to worry–to worry about me too much.” 

Her cheeks burned in shame as she avoided his gaze, but the palm of his hand turned her face towards him. She nearly jumped at the emotion glowing in his eyes, burning with an intensity she’d not fully seen before, eyes locked on her own, yet, hollow, as if he wasn’t really looking at her. Through her? No…

“Fuck yeah, it’s alright. C’mere,” He pulled her into his lap, and she realized what it reminded her of, as he regarded her with the sheer glee a child would show upon receiving a new toy, admiring her like some possession. No. Maybe he was just getting worked up–that must be it. The day had been stressful, right?

He began pressing hot, wet kisses to her neck, “Just stick with me. I’ll keep ya safe, baby. Promise.” His teeth grazed up her flesh, and she felt goosebumps start to form.

She nodded, cheeks burning in embarrassment at her growing dependency, but the feel of his hand under her shirt brought her back to reality.

“Oh–oh. I was–I don’t know if…” She was tired. So tired. Her limbs and mind weighed with growing self-disgust and an increasing sense of helplessness. The last thing she felt right now was sexy.

“Lie down for me.” He flipped her on her back before she could answer, working off her shirt, and his hands pulled at the waistband of her shorts. He kissed down her sternum, leaving small bite shaped bruises in his path.

She called his name, hand to his shoulder, not pushing, but stiff, “Maybe we should–I’m not really–” He hooked his fingers into the side of her underwear and something jumped a bit in her chest. Fear. It couldn’t be fear.

He sat up as he peeled off the last of her clothes, “Fuck. You keep scarin’ me and scarin’ me…might gimme a fuckin’ heart attack one day.” He wasn’t looking at her, arms wrapping around her thighs to pull her legs around his hips. She squealed a bit as she was dragged further down, but didn’t protest.

She fell silent, he just loved her is all, this was fine. Didn’t she owe him at least this? Still, the thought didn’t sit right in some near-forgotten part of her mind.

He ripped off his shirt, defined abs and arms flexing in the moonlight before bringing his thumb to swirl at her clit, smirking when her hips jumped from the stimulation, muscles flexing and unflexing. She took her lip between her teeth, eyes slowly losing focus.

“That’s it. Fuck, that’s hot.” He took two of his calloused fingers into his mouth, tongue flicking out to wet the digits, drool dripping as they popped from his lips. Moving down to play at her lower lips, they forced themselves into her without warning.

She winced a bit at the stretch, but the roll of his thumb over her clit eased the burn. She tried to rationalize the situation in her mind. They’d had sex so many times before, why was this any different?

She swallowed as the knot built, thoughts flying from her brain as her legs tensed and shuddered against his hips, walls tightening around his fingers. Closer and closer. He sped his motions, rubbing furiously at her swollen bud. She began to tremble in anticipation, whimpers turning to open mouthed moans, head thrown back.

“You gonna cum, pretty girl?”

An alarm went off in her brain.

“You look lost, pretty girl.”

But it was too late, his fingers curled and pumped into her, hitting a spot that had her melting, and her eyelids and pussy fluttered in gratification as her eyes crossed, vision going white. 

When she came down from her high, he was pulling her to her feet, and towards the windows.

But, “What did–what did you just call me?” It came out quietly, meekly, and she briefly wondered if that was really her voice. 

She shivered at the sheer intensity with which he regarded her, either not hearing, or ignoring her question altogether. He spun her around, and gripped her hips harshly, pulling them towards him, forcing her to arch her back. Face and hands pressed to the glass, she breathed his name as he worked his cock from his boxers.

Why wasn’t he listening?

“You don’t gotta worry about nothin’ from now on,” He sighed, sliding his cock between her folds, gathering the wetness, and huffed a low chuckle, “‘Cept sittin’ pretty at home, an’ keepin’ my cock warm in bed. Sound good, baby?”

She was used to dirty talk, but this was…strange, “What are–”

On hand caught her hair between his fingers, tugging at the roots as he leaned forward, breath wet and hot in her ear.

“‘Sit here all safe and sweet for me, yeah?” The hand tightened, and she felt a few strands ripped loose.

“Ah—it hurts, I—”

“I asked you a question, pretty girl.”

“Yeah—Yes. Yes, but—”

His cockhead breached her walls, and she whimpered. No matter how many times she took him, she’d never grow used to his size. In some form of placation, he kissed at the back of her neck, and behind her ear. It wasn’t working. He pulled back, and the hand in her hair met her throat, fingers flexing as they felt her racing pulse.

“‘S all yer good for anyways, huh?” That stung more than his cock bottoming out inside her. Too big. Please. Slow down. Just—

“That’s alright,” he licked his lips, pinching at the fat of her ass, forcing a yelp from her throat, before he began to thrust, fucking her hard against the window. Wait—

Through choked moans and whimpers, “I don’t…ah–” His hips snapped forward, hitting that special spot inside her, and taking her voice. Please.

“It’s alright, I forgive ya,” He huffed a laugh, close to her ear again, “I love you, after all.”

.♡. 

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” She tried to stamp down the building irritation, but really, “I could have taken it myself.” Did he really think her that incapable?

“It ain’t a bit deal,” She watched as he worked, heavy weight on his shoulders as he squatted, “‘Sides, I was due for a gauntlet upgrade–was on my way,” He side-eyed her as he stood, “Said she’d fix it right up for ya. As a favor.”

The clang of the weight hitting the floor made her jump, “I mean…That’s nice of her–your inventor friend–but I still don’t understand what happened?” Her legs swayed back and forth on the exercise bench in an attempt to soothe her antsy nerves.

He moved to the smaller, hand weights, “Like I said…You knocked it off the nightstand last night,” Sighing as if her question were an inconvenience, “Thought someone broke in with the sound of it fuckin’ shattering.”

She didn’t know she moved in her sleep, or that she was that deep a sleeper. She also didn’t know that phones could break so easily, but she didn’t want to question him–he was going out on a limb for her to fix it for free, but still…

“Well…thank you, but I could have gone with you. I feel like I haven’t been outside in forever, and I’ve been getting a bit…restless.” He’d insisted on her near total confinement until this stalker of hers was found. Which he also said might take a while. What was a while?

“Maybe you can come with me when it’s ready, yeah?” 

She sighed a bit in relief, “Yeah,” Her eyes shifted a bit, “Thank you, though, for–”

“Like I said, stop thankin’ me for given’ a shit about you,” Wiping at his neck with a towel, he stood, and she followed him into the foyer, “Alright. I gotta head out. I’ll try an’ be back before dark this time.” She hummed, and he kissed the crown of her head, giving her a once over, and nodded to himself, heading for the door.

She sighed to herself as the door clicked shut, and turned, eyes scanning over the expanse of the penthouse. This was fine. She had plenty to do–she could make herself useful. Keep herself busy. Maybe then she could ignore the hollow in her chest that had opened who knows how long ago–she could make this work. She had to.

.♡. 

She nudged the closet door open with her hip, carrying the laundry basket inside. She’d gotten used to this routine, and she tried to reclaim some of the peace she used to feel in the silence. She began to fold up the articles, placing them in the drawers. With this impractically large, new closet, laundry day had become a strenuous task on its own.

He had told her she didn’t need to do all this, and in all honesty it did make her feel like a mix between housewife and maid. But what else was there? It wasn’t safe outside, he’d said. She just had to wait a bit more. She could do that. And she really didn’t like upsetting him–not after everything he’d done for her.

She lost track of the time, humming to herself as she worked, closing the drawers, and moving on to place the rest of the clothes on hangers. The lack of music in her ears had a bitter feeling pull at her heart–he’d just taken her phone without asking. He’d started to do a lot of things without asking. No. He loved her; he’d just wanted to do something nice for her. The bitterness melted onto her heart and burned.

How ungrateful.

She was nearly done now, just the back racks left. As she moved to set the basket down she caught sight of pink nylon–her gym bag on the floor, hidden behind the racks. The burn faded, and nostalgia took its place. She kneeled, pulling it from its place propped up against the since sealed shut cabinet–rats, he had reminded her.

She unzipped the bag, and sorted through the equipment. She pulled out the grip strengthener, smiling a bit, and turned it in her hands, finger running along the crack in the metal.

Crack!

“Oh shit!” He laughed, “My bad.” 

“Now, what did you have to go and do that for?” He handed it back to her, and she turned it in her hands, catching sight of the cracked metal, before looking up, and smacking his shoulder. 

“Asshole!” She laughed “You know how hard it is to find a quality grip strengthener?”

His brow furrowed as his eyes flickered to the device in her hands, “I dunno,” a sly smile spreading as he shrugged, “All I’m hearin’ is that you’ve never been taught what quality means.” He moved closer, and she shoved his face away.

“Don’t be gross,” Still, she smiled as she pulled back, “I’m still your physical therapist for one more week.”

“Yeah? And then what?” He smirked.

Her smile turned mischievous, “Huh. I’m not sure,” She looked into the distance, as if contemplating something, “Travel the world? Finally learn how to cook? Steal the moon? Who knows, I–ah!”

He pulled her into his lap with a force that had both of the tumbling to the floor, noses touching. A blink. And then they were laughing, her hands by his head, and his hands on her hips. They settled, and she caught sight of an emotion akin to admiration in his eyes,

“I got a few ideas of what you could do.” His eyes flickered to her lips, fingers flexing on her hips.

“Oh yeah?” She sighed a breath onto his lips.

“Yeah,” He puffed out a breath, but contained himself, flipping them over, and smirking as she squealed, “But we’re not leavin’ this room ‘til I show you what quality really means.” 

She hadn’t realized she was crying until her tears hit the cool metal. She can’t remember the last time he looked at her like that, with admiration that didn’t equal possession.

She sighed, wiping furiously at her face, and shoved it into the bag. What was the use of stewing over something she had no control of? But still, she couldn’t help the building anger in her chest as she moved to put the bag away. Hide away the memories.

She caught sight of the sealed cabinet, and paused. No. He valued his privacy. And he’d told her rats had gotten in through the wall. She’d never seen rats before. But, he also took her phone without asking, and told her it shattered. She’d never been a heavy sleeper. She tried to ignore the guilt that gnawed at her; it somehow felt wrong to criticize him–he was doing his best.

There was a familiar feeling of nausea mixing with the guilt creating an overwhelming wave of unease that poured over her nerves. Fuck it. She shuffled through her bag. Where was it? Where was it? There.

She pulled a reflex hammer from inside, turning it backwards, testing the sharp metal tip at its base with her finger. Guess you are good for something. She shuffled forwards, scratching at the sealant of the cabinet, brows furrowed in determination, and mouth set in a hard line as she peeled the rubbery substance from the creases. Almost. Closer. Closer. Done.

She sighed, setting the hammer in the bag, hesitating a bit as her fingers curled over the side crease–why was there no handle? It creaked open, and the smell of dust filling her nostrils had her sneezing. Collecting herself, she waved away the dust, squinting as it settled. 

Inside lay a wooden box of sorts–crate, maybe?--wooden something. Curious. She pulled it into her lap with some strain, prying off the top, and hissing at the sting under her fingernails as they caught on the edge. It fell off with a thump, and she peered inside.

What is that?

Her breath caught in her throat, eyes wide and trembling. An initialed gym towel. If he’d found it that night…why hadn’t he given this back to her?

And…polaroids? She couldn’t breathe. Was that–No. They were too blurry. Too dark. It couldn’t be…

No. No. No.

A few wads of hair–her hair? She couldn’t breathe. Her heart beat against her ribs, blood flow filling her ears like the roaring wave of unease. Except, it wasn’t unease. Were those her clothes?

This didn’t make sense.

Trembling fingers reached inside, pulling out something soft and cotton. Was that..Was that her underwear?

It wasn’t unease.

It was freezing, burning, suffocating terror. But the break in, that chase, how–how had he–?

“Yeah yeah. I owe ya one. Now fuck off, would you?”

Owe ya one. Oh my god. Oh my fucking god. No. No. 

This made perfect sense.

She couldn’t fucking breathe.

What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck.

She dropped the article as if it had burned her skin, falling back on her hands as she scrambled away. She didn’t want to be near that box. She didn’t want to be anywhere near–

A sigh cut her off, and she had to will her frozen limbs to move. All she could manage was the slight turn of her head. It was enough.

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, and eyes cold–she didn’t know red could be cold–calculating as he scanned the scene.

He clicked his tongue, bringing a hand to his hair, tipping his head back as he ran his fingers through the locks. A slow, deep, building, familiar chuckle. His eyes snapped back to hers, and every nerve in her body burst with fear.

“Now,” He huffed a laugh, smirk pulling at his lips, “What did you have to go and do that for?”

#yandere bnha #yandere bakugou #yandere bakugou katsuki #yandere mha #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere my hero academia #yandere katsuki #yandere bakugo #yandere bakugo katsuki #this is much longer than i planned lol #hope it's alright

[kurogxrix]

hey! can i request some romantic headcanons for Gwen with a gender neutral? thank you sm :)

Gwen’s the type of lover that’s very closed off and reserved at the start of your relationship.

She’s a closed shell, hard to come by since she’s scared to lose you after what happened to Peter.

Even though it’s obvious that she’s hiding and keeping things from you, you refuse to give up on Gwen. She’s your girlfriend, and you believe that one day she’ll come around.

After a while, Gwen realizes that you’re not going anywhere. So she allows herself to open up to you, little by little.

She’ll definitely swing by as spiderwoman at night to leave little gifts by your window sill.

Her gifts are as cute as little wild flower bouquets that she made herself to random trinkets, but they’re a little weird to you at first because you don’t really know who’s leaving them there.

Don’t think she’s much of a fan of PDA, not even privately at the start of your relationship.

Once she gets comfortable though, she’s totally down for kisses and cuddling behind closed doors.

Once her spidey-secret is out the window, Gwen is somewhat shocked when you take it calmly.

You defo beg her to take you swinging on nights where she has no patrolling to do, and with an overexaggerated eye-roll from her, she finally brings you.

She was annoyed at first, and a little worried that she’d have to drop you somewhere random in case a villain did some unexpected entrance. Though she softened at the sound of you laughter as you both soared through the cool city air.

You know that she has a lot of frustration and anger to let off, so after the (many) times where she had come back from band practice still all wound up, you become her personal therapist.

Gwen defo snaps a you a couple of times when you both are having random little arguements. Though she’s quick to feel guilty and apologizes, she reminds you everytime how sorry she is for snapping and how much you mean to her.

Poor girl she’s just going through a lot.

Though you understand and never get too worked up when she raises her voice slightly.

When Gwen introduced you to her father, he was so happy that she had finally made a friend (little did he know).

Sometimes your dates can vary from having you laying all comfortably on her bed, earplugs in your ears as she blares a piece on her drum set.

Sometimes it could be having her (much reluctantly again) swinging you both to some abandoned building to explore.

She’ll defo use her spider powers to her advantage to try and scare you, and it works every time.

Sometimes your dates can be something as simple as sitting on the edge of her apartment roof, sharing a greasy meal together while she recalls her day as spider woman.

One day you wanted to try that corny upside-down spiderman kiss that you had seen in one of your comics. She groaned at the idea, but nevertheless agreed because you seemed so excited about it, plus it gave her an excuse to kiss you more.

So there she was, hanging upside down by your window as you lifted her mask up to kiss her like MJ had done with peter.

She defo ‘messes up’ her stance a couple of times whilst telling you that you gotta start all over again, just to get you to kiss her again.

Gwen trusts you with her entire life, you’re her partner, her lover. And even though she doesn’t show it all the time, she loves you more than her words can describe.

-

they’re rlly random but i hope you like them anon 😭🫶🏽

#gwen stacy x reader #gwen stacy #gwendolyn stacy #spiderman across the spiderverse #atsp #across the spiderverse #spiderman #marvel #spider gwen #spider ghost #ghost spider

[monsters-conquer-the-world]

OOZEPUNK

WHAT IS OOZEPUNK?

Oozepunk is the term I'm coining for the microgenre of urban heroic sci-fi horror-fantasy that first exploded in the mid-80s with movies, shows, and comics like Ghostbusters, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, The Toxic Avenger, Who Framed Roger Rabbit, Hellboy, Street Sharks, and others. Lots of natural crossover with Biopunk and Cyberpunk, aesthetically and philosophically.

Your childhood trauma didn't let you forget Roger Rabbit heavily featured colorful nightmare slime, did it?

A ragtag gang of weirdos (often horribly mutated--more on that soon) band together to save a city that doesn't understand them. Grimy sewers, abandoned buildings and graffiti'd brick walls are lit up by neon lights, streams of mysterious, glowing goo and/or the unearthly lights of futuristic particle weapons--ideally all of the above!

Beyond the "cracked concrete and gutters full of liquid plutonium" aesthetic, Oozepunk prankishly asks "What if catastrophic aberrations of science, particularly DUMPING TOXIC FUCKING WASTE STRAIGHT INTO THE ENVIRONMENT created fucked-up monsters... but they're HEROIC fucked-up monsters!" These catastrophic aberrations of science grant the heroes incredible powers, but COST them their place in human society. (Ghostbusters and Roger Rabbit eschew character mutation in favor of discovering that the undead and olde tymey cartoons are real [and exploitable!], respectively. 'Busters and 'Toon sympathizers alike are treated like insane idiots and/or frauds in their respective universes.)

Oozepunk heroes are challenged not only by strange supernatural beings, but by human society itself. The Ghostbusters battle with local politicians as much as they do the undead. In the recent (and delightful) TMNT: Mutant Mayhem, Splinter warns the Turtles of humans and their obsession with "milking" mutants for their blood--on top of the villainous mutants they're trying to thwart!

Crank up the creep factor in Oozepunk and you get awesome anti-establishment goo-horror like 1988's The Blob, The Stuff, Street Trash, and probably a bunch more. Toxic Avenger is a batshit crazy splatter-comedy (i.e. classic Troma)... and still garnered sequels, a kid's cartoon and toyline!

And there's a Shredder's Revenge-style Crusaders beat-em-up coming out next year??

This looks dope as shit

Ghostbusters and TMNT are the only current, "evergreen" (or radioactive green!) Oozepunk franchises I can think of off the top of my head, but Oozepunk elements are buried in almost all of the stories and settings I love the most. Heroic kaiju like King Kong, Godzilla and Gamera paved the way for our freaky friends, but so did comics characters like Fantastic Four's Ben "The Thing" Grimm, The Hulk and Swamp Thing. Hell, I think I blame SESAME STREET of all things for starting me down the Oozepunk path.

Surprise! I've loved screaming trash monsters with secret hearts of gold since I was a fucking baby, and they've ALWAYS been there for me!

But it's not just Oscar, Sesame Street as a whole is a proto-Oozepunk utopia, years before the big Ooze-splosion of the 80s. Muppets, monsters, talking animals and chill humans all live and work together to scrape by with a little dignity in a gritty-but-wholesome urban world!

Sesame Street, a decades-long reminder that educational childrens' programming can and SHOULD be cool as hell looking and loaded with all kinds of friendly mutant freakuloids.

OOZEPUNK! Whaddya think?

#oozepunk #ghostbusters #teenage mutant ninja turtles #toxic avenger #toxic crusaders #street sharks #who framed roger rabbit #ooze #slime #hellboy #sesame street #goop #goo #Youtube

[fandomscompilation]

When the vibes change

yourusername: prepare for my villain era

liked by bandname, bffuser, user91 and 358 more

bandname: welcome to the dark side

> yourusername: do you have cookies??

user73: what I'd give to meet you..

ynsgurl: Mommy 🥵

user54: holly molly 😱

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The sun was setting over Monaco painting the sky with shades of pink and orange. The view would've been beautiful in Y/N's eyes if not the message she received an hour ago. Her phone was still buzzing from time to time with new notifications, but she didn't have the energy to pick it up.

The last three months were like a fairy tale, but now they started to look like a fever dream. She tried to convince herself that those moments were just that, hallucinations of a better time. But how could she trick her heart when it yearned for the love she began to feel.

From the moment they met he had her wrapped around his fingers. She sang about him, she composed music that was joyful once again and she felt exhilarated. Every day with him made her smile like a fool. And maybe she was a fool, because she believed all his sweet words, when his heart was never hers.

She sighted thinking about her tomorrow's concert. Her band wasn't that popular, they sang in the less known clubs and pubs in Monaco, but they still were in high demand and managed to gain quiet the public. They music couldn't be put down to one genre, because of all the covers they made during their shows, but lately Y/N's feelings took over turning their vibes to more romantic. She sang upbeat hits about love and joys of life. But how could she do that now?

Her phone buzzed again and she glanced to the phone to see the groupchat of her band. They had to prepare a setlist for their show. Maybe this was the way to let her heartbreak heal, by screaming her lungs out.

#fanfiction #writing #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 driver x reader #smau #f1 smau #y/n #f1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #lando norris x reader

[thatone-brightstar]

More than all the stars (Carmy Berzatto x Fem!Reader) (The Bear & The Fox Series)

Chapter 3: My darling, my dearest, my dead.

Words: 4k

a/n: Hi, hello!! so we finally meet the dreaded ex and even though you can imagine who you like, since writing it i always had Oscar Isaac in mind bc THAT MAN MAKES ME FEEL THINGS and also he makes one hell of a villain so you can't really blame me.

anyway, enjoy the chapter and remember that reblogs and comments are the way to show appreciation for your favorite creators and lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist!

Chapter 2.

He could have done more than just stand there- looking at her with that stupid expression over his face- the one many use when all the words have evaporated into thin air. But then again, what could he say, especially to someone he assumed he’d never see again? Her expression sat stoic, apart from the slightly raised eyebrows waiting in expectation, there was nothing in her face that revealed the storm inside her head.

“So?” She spoke over the ringing in his ears and brought him back from his memories. “You gonna say something or just pretend I’m not here?”

“Uhm, H-hey…?”

“Hi.” She repeated with certain disdain and a dry smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

He felt like a fish out of water, mouth rounding around the words but never able to truly push them past his throat. “Wha- what uhm, what are- uh…”

“I’m on holiday.” She answered for him and shrugged, cutting his torture short, though he thought that was more than he deserved. “I wanted to see what the great Beef of Chicagoland was all about…” Ross added and let her eyes wander from his to the dimly lit and emptied room.

Something about her analytic gaze made him stand straighter and rub the back of his neck in anticipation for her verdict. 

“We’re, uh, renovating.”

Ross offered a single nod and a weak hum as her serious expression landed back on him. “Makes sense.”

A still silence fell over them again, forcing Camry to fidget with his knuckles and take another long drag of the already wavering cig. He wondered if the lack of conversation had always felt so stagnant between them- like the middle of July- or if time had truly taken a toll on their interactions. He heard her shuffle against the newspaper covered glass once more, but didn’t dare to raise his head until she spoke again.

“I heard about your brother…” She started, cracking her knuckles out of habit. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“S’fine.” Carmy answered instantly, the words had already nestled into a permanent space in his mind, but at least for her, he knew they were genuine. “Thank you.” He said and added “I’m sorry for, y’know… everything.”

A slight curve around her mouth broke the cold glare settling over him and despite the somber tone around them, the simple action let a wave of fresh air pass into his lungs.

“What part exactly?” Ross asked, digging her palms into the back pocket of her jeans and moving slowly in direction to the dusty counter. “Leaving with no explanation? Not even letting me know you were alive… or for being an overall idiot for as long as I’ve known you?” 

The refreshing bluntness of her tone pulled out a soft chuckle from his knotted chest and he couldn’t help but nod in agreement. Carmy reached again towards the packet resting beside him and lit another tube between his lips, waiting, as if the words were magically hidden between the embers and smoke. 

As she waited for an answer, Ross pulled out the stool a few feet beside him and took out a cigarette without asking, it’s not as if he would have said anything anyway, at least nothing other than:

“You smoke now?”

Ross shrugged again and sucked the smoke into her mouth. A gleam from her left hand caught his eye. Carmy couldn’t help the surprised expression falling over his face at the sight of a thin gold band wrapping around her delicate finger, or the shimmering stone that was placed upon it. 

He signaled with his head in direction to ring. “That’s… new.” He said.

She pulled her hand back at arms length and admired the perfectly polished stone with a new spark behind her eyes, as if the owner of said promise reappeared in her memories each time she looked at it.

“Yeah… you remember Frank?” 

Carmy’s expression grew even more surprised at the mention of his former co-worker. The one that Ross, if he remembered correctly, didn’t even give the time of day. 

“Yeah…shit, Frank?” He asked, incredulous. 

“Ugh, gross no.” The girl answered and Carmy’s shoulders fell in relief. “One of his cousins.” 

Her eyes went from the shimmering rock to the plastic covered pop machines they had yet to take out and Carmy could almost see the memory of her lover replaying over her softening features.

“We uh, we met a month after you left… I guess it just clicked.” She shrugged and finally turned to him.

From up close, he could see how much her face had truly changed. There was little trace of the jovial features he had known, yet the spark in her eyes remained. It wasn’t for him anymore though, that much he knew, and it would have probably affected him more a year ago than it did then. 

“Finally someone my age-“ Ross joked and slightly swayed in his direction. Carmy sniggered back, relieved that the tension was slowly withering away. 

“I’m glad.” He responded sincerely as a gentle smile unfolded over his features. 

The girl nodded slowly and smiled back, tearing her gaze away and refocusing it back to the lit tube dangling from her fingers. 

“How’d you know?” He blurred out the thought that had been kneading itself in his head for a few weeks now.

“What?”

“Y’know… that he’s- that they’re, y’know-”

“The one?” She answered for him in a teasing tone that made him roll his eyes but nod back.

The room went quiet as she thought, only his foot continuously tapping against the floor in angst was heard. Ross’ brows slowly raised up as her eyes examined his nervousness closely, then she turned her body fully towards him and leaned against the counter.

“I dunno, honestly.” Her response was simple and he tried to swallow discreetly so as to not show his disappointment. “It’s different for everyone.” She reassured. His eyes rose expectant to her face once more. “I felt… peace. Like I can finally breathe and I’m not struggling to hold my head above the current anymore.”

Carmy knew the feeling she was referring to, the consistent pressure crushing his lungs that no amount of cigarettes could numb out but that suddenly, the single thought of you, fixed. The weight that fell off his shoulders as soon as he crossed the entrance to your home and the glee on your face as you saw him, that was the peace she was referring to. You weren’t the bandaid that temporarily taped up his shitty moods, but the whole damn antibiotic that eradicated the virus altogether.

“Listen, I-” Ross stopped abruptly to gather her scattered thoughts, exhaled loudly, then continued. “I just wanna get it off my chest. I did like you, Carmen, like a lot, but… we would have torn each other to pieces.” Her sigh came out like a nervous chuckle.

He nodded again and swallowed hard, taken back. “Right- yeah no, definitely.”

“With Jonathan it’s easy. It’s like breathing, just second nature. And in spite of everything that went on with us, I still mean what I said before… I do hope you find that one day.” For a second, her features softened into the girl he had known more than a year back, the one who had truly seen him when no one else had. 

Your face instantly appeared in his mind. That morning at the farmer’s market, the cold breeze had tainted your soft cheeks pink and the fuzzy knitted scarf swallowed half your face whole. His chest felt like it could concave suddenly and he felt like an absolute idiot for not realizing it sooner.

An uncontrollable grin spread around his face, raising his flushed cheeks up to his eyes. He coughed slightly to clear his throat but it only fused with a soft snigger that filled him with an unfamiliar warmth.

“Yeah…” He exhaled as his eyes caught the same shimmer as the stone. “Yeah, I think I have.”

“I’m glad.” Ross repeated his words back, nothing but honesty clear on her face. 

**********

The dull and foggy sky mirrors your mood as you mark your steps over the cobblestone, bouquet held tight in between your gloved hands. 

You haven’t visited since the funeral, it had been too painful to do so. One loss after another had been enough to topple your fragile mental health and you were sure that if you had visited before being ready, it would have guaranteed a similar headstone beside hers. Despite the slight jittering of your fingers though, you’re sure of every step you take, careful to move around the more weathered graves.

Your heart leaps in your chest once you spot the space reserved for your grandmother. The headstone is more dramatic than the ones that surround it, but then again, she never did anything small. There’s a carved limestone angel that guards her sleep as it rests with crossed arms over it, wings wrapped around the slab. It still looks relatively new, despite sitting in the hard Chicago weather for a year and part of you feels guilty for visiting after so long, but you know she would have understood. 

Your nose has started to freeze with the chill wind and you use one gloved hand to wipe away the rogue tear that tickles your nostril, before slowly stopping in front of the grave. 

“Hola abuelita.” You whisper and sniff with difficulty. “Te traje Claveles.” 

The dead grass snaps quietly as you sit cross legged and lay the vibrant flowers right under her name. With empty hands, you begin to play with the loose threads of your worn out gloves as you search for something to say. ‘Not like you can hear me, anyway.’ you think to yourself bitterly, then a humorless chuckle escapes when the image of her, slightly smacking the back of your head, comes to mind.

“Sorry.” You reply instantly, as if she could see your thoughts. “I’ve never been good at this sorta thing, you know me.”

The morning is mostly quiet, despite a few chirping birds and the light traffic that sneaks past the trees, everything is still. 

“Nice place you got here…with the shade n’ everything- Mom says hi. I asked Papi si quería saludarte, but he says he’ll come by next week as always.” Your throat begins to close up and you try to clear a pathway with a few subtle coughs.

You reach out to clean off the few petals that fell from the dried flowers your grandfather left last week and another batch of tears bundles over your bottom lashes. You’ve always admired their love, the kind that transcends even after the other is gone, because ‘til death do us part’ doesn’t really carry any meaning when you truly love someone.

A softer smile takes the place of the teary one as the memories of Sunday mornings sitting between them and watching old movies invades your mind. She’d braid your hair with dexterous hands as you watched various men porcelain their love to a young Rita Moreno through the black and white screen. The whiff of coffee and cigarettes from your grandfather felt like home and the loving whispers they’d share with one another behind your back put the prettiest bird songs to shame. 

“A lot’s happened since you left…” Your voice carries out through the wind, but you like to imagine that it's taking your words to her. “I met someone- not the asshole I told you about, you were right about him… someone else. His name’s Carmy. You would’ve liked him, Papi does, pero ya sabes como es, he won’t admit it. He’s been through a lot, but he’s still really sweet. He’s a fighter… I think he’s the one.” Your epiphany goes quiet in the secluded cemetery and your heart starts to beat even faster as the words sink in.

You’ve come to the conclusion that the bad thing about being surrounded by so much love is you’re always searching to replicate it. Your grandparents loved you so much, that the need for a father never even crossed your mind, and they loved each other even harder that all you ever wanted growing up was a love like that of your own. You went through countless partners in search of “the one” and always came out empty handed, but she was always there- with her cafecito and old movies- to pick you right back up. 

What scares you now is that she isn’t there to pick you up if anything were to happen anymore, and after Isaac, you’re not sure if you can go through another broken heart as bad as that one.

You huff out a hard sigh and wipe your cheeks a little too hard, tainting them pink. 

“I’m sure.” You repeat again a little louder to drown out the critical thoughts. “No- yeah, I am. I am.”

The distracting vibration from your phone pierces the calming silence and gives you a chance to leave the vexing thoughts behind.

“What-”

“-the fuck did you do?!” He yells from the other line as soon as you answer, making you pull the phone away from your ear.

“Hello to you too J-“ 

“What the fuck did you do-” Your brother interrupts again and you roll your eyes. “-I just saw that lanky tall guy from your old job drop my mom off at the house!” 

“Really? That was fast…” 

His frustrated groan vibrates across the receiver while you unfold your legs from under you and stand up. You place a quick kiss over your fingers and place it over the tombstone before moving back to the entrance. 

“I don’t know what the big deal is, she’s an adult, she can go out with who she wants.”

“Yeah, exactly. Who she wants, not the first asshole you put in front of her.”

“Oh, you jealous you’re not the only man in her life now, huh?” 

Joshua scoffs and you can imagine how he impatiently rolls his eyes before mumbling a ‘fuck you’.

“Fuck you too, dude. Why don’t you get a life and stop worrying about what my mom does with hers.”

“Fine- but when she comes home crying cause that fucker broke her heart, Imma send her straight to you.”

“Fine!”

“Good!”

He doesn’t wait for another response before ending the call. You shove your phone back into your coat with a huff and pull your car keys out instead.

**********

There isn’t much you can do during the winter classes. Since the day recedes to night earlier than usual, the courses have been shortened to an hour long, which then shrinks to 45 minutes after trying to get the kids settled into their stations. Only after months on the job do you  finally understand the vexing task of a sheep herder.

By the time the sky has gone from blue, to orange, to an angelic lilac, only two little ones remain and you’ve been making the most out of their cooperative nature by having them haul their drying works into the back. They do so excitedly, between debates over which dinosaur is the best and why it’s the T-Rex. The conversation brings a smile to your face as you hear their voices slowly fade away from the inside storage. 

It’s a few minutes past 8 when the bell from the entrance door dings and a sigh of relief exits your chest. 

“In the back!” You call to whoever arrived.

While the echoing steps move closer, you turn with your attention fully on the jar of paint that doesn’t want to screw on correctly. Once you get it right and the steps have stopped a few yards away, you look up with a kind smile that vanishes as soon as your eyes settle on the man in front of you.

Your lungs have stopped working completely. Your fingers hold a deadly grip on the jar, bending the plastic with enough strength to turn your knuckles white. Without taking your eyes off him, you blindly settle it back down on the cart and try to regulate your racing heart and breath.

The moment you see him again, everything stops in the most terrible of ways. It feels like standing by the edge of a panic attack, but not falling all the way through, just feeling the waves of cold  sweats traveling down with every heaving breath. In an attempt to ground yourself, your fingers dig into the rough fabric of your apron, instantly absorbing the wetness of your trembling hands and for a second you swear that if you were brave enough to look down, you would find your guts splattered all over the wooden floor.

“Hi Uncle!” The little boy rejoices once he spots the man and walks to your side, oblivious of your hardening gaze on his guardian.

You swallow down the sickening sweetness that your afternoon tea had left in your mouth. “Kenny, where’s your mom?” You rub a hand over his hair with a forced smile.

“She had  a late meeting.” The man’s strong voice vibrates through the walls with little effort, the sound ringing in your ears.

“This is my uncle Isaac.” Kenny adds as if you didn’t already know and the simple mention of the name rips your gut open once again.

You keep your eyes glued on the child, thinking that maybe if you don’t acknowledge the man disturbing the room, he would vanish into thin air like a mirage. ‘Or combust violently’ the voice in your head muttered viciously.

“Can you be a dear and take the last reference pics to the back? Inside the red basket, please. And then grab your bag, okay?” You indicate with a last gentle pat over his shoulder.

He salutes then runs to the doors and out of earshot. With another shaky breath you turn back to the paint cart and try your best to swallow down the knot of bile that has begun to grow.

“I need a permit from his mother to let him leave with a stranger.” You state as calm and collected as your growing anxiety allows you.

His deep chuckle reverberates through the crystal walls and lands on your skin, chilling it to the touch. “What, so I’m a stranger to you now?” He asks.

“You’re nothing to me as far as I’m concerned.” You scoff as you push the cart back to its original place, doing your best to calm the nausea that the memories of seeing him at the charity event are causing.

“Oh, cut me some slack, I’ve been trying to apologize.” 

“Yeah, and what’s that good for?” You spit out instinctively, turning around with new found irritation.

The look on his face is full with triumph and your palm itches with the need to punch the smug off his dumb face. You wish you had the same courage as that night, when you followed him out the gallery with every intention of denting his jaw, but that kind of bravery only comes with alcohol and there is unfortunately none in sight. 

“C’mon Fox…” He says through a sly smile and takes a step towards you, immediately making you take one back.

“Don’t call me that, you don’t get the right to call me that after what you put me through.”

There’s a stare in your eyes that would send any sane man running for the hills, but Isaac has always been anything but. He takes it as a challenge instead, tilting his head to the side like a hunter analyzing its prey, with a toothy grin that exposes the canines in an almost charmingly vile way.

His eyes drag slowly down your body with an obvious gesture, one that has you crossing your arms over your chest to shield as much as you can from his view. “Then what can I call you? Mi amor?” He says instead.

“Call me nothing, no soy tu amor.”  You mutter through gritted teeth and move quickly around the room to finish collecting the last of your supplies. In the back of your mind, you rush the kids to finish quicker, but their debate keeps them too entertained.

“Oh, but I recall how much you used to love it.” His words slither out with venom and his eyes narrow in satisfaction when he notices you stop fully in your tracks and give him another angry stare. “Did you forget how much fun we used to have?” 

“I remember how you fucked up my life-” You remark over his words, but he speaks over them again. 

“Remember when I took you to The Met?” With each word, the bile in your throat feels more inevitable, clawing its way higher up. “How you thanked me so well for the trip in those lacy blue-”

“-Yo babe, sorry I’m so late-” His booming voice invades the room as soon as he appears past the exhibitions, bringing a wave of fresh air into your dying lungs. “-Cousin finally got the permits from Cicero so-”

Ava’s excited footsteps charge out the back and towards her dad, followed by a calm Kenny carrying a Spiderman backpack. The excitement from the children is enough to trigger your migraine but it doesn’t matter because you’ve never been more thankful for Richie’s terrible time management skills. 

When he finally has his daughter securely in his arms, Richie’s eyes dart from you to Isaac, finally feeling the thick air that stays stagnant between you. 

It only takes him a second to notice your stance, the hardness of your jaw and the menacing stare you give the man beside him. “Am I interrupting anything-“

“No.” You’re quick to answer. “They’re just leaving so…”

Kenny stretches his hand up to take your high five goodbye and promises Ava they’ll finish their debate tomorrow while Isaac doesn’t move. He’s still, with a defiant gaze that feels like minutes, then he swings Kenny’s bag over his shoulder and takes a few strides in your direction, stopping less than a foot away. You don’t retreat this time and despite the height difference that’s more obvious up close, you eye him down with all the anger you can muster. 

He pulls something you can’t see out of the pocket of his coat and brings it up to your view. The signed permit rests between his index and middle finger as he offers it to you, but once he sees you won’t take it, he flicks his wrist towards the desk beside you and lets the paper fall lazily over it. 

“I’ll see you around…" Isaac whispers like a menacing promise. "the paint suits you, by the way.” It’s low enough for only you to hear and the smile that goes along with his denigrating tone makes your face turn in disgust. 

Your gaze launches daggers at his back once he turns and takes the small boy by the hand, disappearing past the installation and your lungs only stop burning when the bell dings a final time. 

“What’s that asshole’s problem?” Richie mutters, hand over Ava’s ears and stare lost in the space left empty. 

The desk beside you has never felt more sturdy than the moment you let yourself fall back on it, the adrenaline has finally left  your system and turned your legs into jelly. It screeches lightly and makes Richie turn his head towards you, concern evident once he spots your colorless face. 

“Hey, hey kid, you okay?”

“Wha- yeah, yeah I’m fine. It’s Just um… it’s just been a really long day.”

“Yeah…” He plays along and takes a few weary steps towards you. “Probably doesn’t help that you’ve been smellin ‘ this shit all day either, huh?” He says, taking one of the closed jars with his empty hand and scanning the label.

“Yeah… that’s probably it.” You reply absentminded as your eyes focus past the glass, hoping to not catch sight of the man. 

“Mhm…” Richie repeats in the same tone. “Listen, I know cousin’s got your car and he’s still at the restaurant so if you pack your stuff now, I'll drop you off at home.”

You nod a few times, eyes still on the glass, then with another heavy sigh, you clear your throat and push yourself off the desk. “Yeah, that’d be great. Thank you, Richie.”

You move quickly behind your desk and pull out your already prepped bag and keys- careful to not let him see the wayward tear that the strange confrontation has left behind- before tucking your hair behind your ears and giving him a thin lipped smile. 

“Thank you.” You whisper towards him.

Richie shrugs his shoulders and the little girl that’s already falling asleep over them stirs lightly. 

“What’s family for?” He replies and for the first time since you’ve met him, both his voice and demeanor carry a strange serenity that makes you understand why his daughter is peacefully asleep by the time she reaches her car seat. 

Taglist: @pearlstiare @teteminne , @beebslebobs, @harrysmatcha , @yum-yahgurt , @pussy-f41ry , @kirakombat , @redsakura101 , @hobisunshine13 , @feyhunter78, @xeneth99 and that's it lmao

#the bear & the fox #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear fx #carmy x reader #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy smut #the bear tv #carmen berzatto x you #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto smut #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto fic #jeremy allen white #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto the bear #the bear fic #the bear imagine #the bear #carmen berzatto fan fiction #carmy berzatto #fanfiction #fanfic

[ladykailitha]

Do You Know What Shovels Dig? Graves Part 4

Well, @forgottenkanji​ was the only one that suggested a name, but it was really cool, so I decided why not?   Do you know what shovels dig? Graves

Welp, this part has reached over 3k so it’s getting split up. And maybe even an epilogue with that anon’s idea. I know I keep saying we’ll see. But this story has taken life of its own at this point and I’m just putting it out there as it comes.

 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

And here we get to the party apologizing and Eddie bitching out his friends.

*

Eddie had band practice after dinner so he kissed Steve on the cheek a little bit before half-time and left. Steve furrowed his brow a bit when he saw Eddie leave but didn’t say anything.

Eddie arrived at Gareth’s house and hopped out of his van. He was pleased to see that all of the other members of Corroded Coffin were already there. He walked up to them grinning from ear to ear.

“Hey, Eddie!” Gareth greeted. “You ready to start, man?”

Eddie just stood there with his hands on his hips, rocking back on his heels.

Jeff looked around Eddie in confusion. “Hey, dude, where’s your guitar?”

“Oh I didn’t bring it,” Eddie replied cheerfully.

The other three shared glances and the muttering began.

“You see I just recently learned that my best friends gave my boyfriend the shovel talk,” Eddie said brightly. “Best friends who really should have known better considering they know my past and that Steve is a hopeless romantic who is a serial monogamist.”

The muttering stopped and silence fell.

“So I’m just stopping by to let you know that because you and several others made my boyfriend so upset he had a breakdown,” Eddie continued in the same cheerful tone, “that if I hear even one word against Steve...” his voice dropped to the dark and wicked tone he used for his villains, “I will gleefully murder your characters in increasingly violent ways and then burn the character sheets. Mm’kay?”

They all nodded vigorously.

“Great!” Eddie said. “See you on Saturday!” And then turned on his heel and hopped back into his van. He drove off with a cheery wave.

Once he was gone they all looked at each other in shock.

“Wait, did Eddie say several other shovel talks?” Jeff asked after minutes of stunned silence.

“Did he say breakdown?” Gareth asked.

“Shit.”

*

Steve got into work the following morning only for Robin to throw her arms around his neck.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she whispered. “You just always appear so confident and cool when you’re actually dating that I forgot I know you better than that.”

Steve let out a shuddering breath. “It hurt Robs,” he murmured. “I thought I was your best friend and you were telling me not break his heart. I just don’t understand why.”

Robin sighed and let go of him. She hopped up onto the counter and crossed her ankles. “Being gay isn’t the same as being bisexual. You have other options if it goes to shit.” Steve’s face soured and she started waving her hands. “Not that I think it will. Of course I don’t! It’s just hard. Not harder. Because believe me I have heard some pretty nasty things people have said about bisexuals from both sides of the aisle. And I just got so wrapped up in the gay aspect of it all that I forgot you have it just as hard.”

He just shrugged and half turned away.

“Shit!” Robin said. “I’m supposed to apologizing and I’m making it worse. I am sorry. So sorry. I shouldn’t have been dismissive when you asked about Eddie breaking your heart. Because of course you’re concerned about that. Especially after Nancy. I just didn’t think it was possible, because Eddie loves you so much.”

Steve nodded.

She jumped off the counter and threw her arms around him again. “You’re my Platonic soulmate and I love you so much. You deserve people looking out for you, too. And I promise that will be me from now on.”

“I love you, too.” He put one hand on her arm as she held him. They stayed like that until a customer came in.

*

When Steve got home from work Will was sitting on his front steps.

“Hey, Will, you been waiting long?” Steve asked as he unlocked the front door.

Will stood up and dusted off his pants. “Nope. I knew when you got off and before you ask, Eddie told me.”

Steve raised an eyebrow but didn’t question it. It wasn’t uncommon for kids to just drop by. His was one of the few houses among their friends with air conditioning and the only one with a pool.

“Dustin mentioned he’d be stopping by to apologize,” Will said as he wandered through to the kitchen, “and me and El decided that since you are too nice, one of us will be here to make sure the actually apologize and not hand wave what they did away.”

Steve laughed. “If you say so.”

Sure enough about ten minutes later there was a knock on the door. Steve when to go answer it and Dustin, Mike, and Nancy stood there looking sheepish. Will came out and shook his head.

“That just won’t do,” his said. “Two of you will wait in the front room while one apologizes to Steve. I won’t let you cheat with one person apologizing and thinking it counts for all three of you.”

Steve grinned. “Yeah, Will’s my favorite.”

Dustin looked devastated. “I’ll go first.”

Will nodded and followed Steve and Dustin to the kitchen and Mike and Nancy went to wait in the front room.

Dustin sat on the bar stool at the counter and Steve got him a soda. Will leaned up against the sink and watched.

Dustin wrapped his hands around it and sighed. “I didn’t know anyone had given you a shovel talk because when we talked about you and Eddie I thought it was just a joke. And I thought, ‘hey I should tell Steve to go easy on Eddie after the bats because he was still healing’ you know. I didn’t realize that you had taken to me that I didn’t trust you with Eddie, honest!”

Steve’s shoulders sagged. “All right so maybe yours wasn’t a shovel talk, but you can see why I might think it was, right?”

Dustin nodded. “You’re a good friend, Steve. And I know we don’t tell you enough, but we really do love you.”

Steve pulled him into a hug and kissed the top of his head.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Dustin cried. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

Steve looked over at Will who gave him the thumbs up. Dustin’s was a miscommunication on both their parts.

Dustin exited the kitchen and Nancy came in. She spotted Will standing at the sink and turned to Steve.

“I would rather he not be here for this,” she said, her tone clipped.

“And I would rather have not gotten several shovel talks that took an intervention from your boyfriend to get you people to realize you’d hurt me,” Steve replied. “But here we are.”

She pursed her lips and Will raised an eyebrow at her daring her to press the issue farther.

Nancy decided to take the high road and ignore Will instead. “It was wrong of me to threaten you with my gun collection. I realize that you and Eddie are adults that can make their own decisions.”

Steve and Will looked at each other in disbelief.

“What?” she asked.

“That wasn’t an apology,” Will said.

“I admitted to being wrong,” Nancy said with a frown. “That’s what I’m supposed to be doing, right?”

Steve sighed. And that right there was why they never would have worked. “You’re supposed to be sorry that you hurt my feelings, but I’m getting the impression that you aren’t.”

Nancy sighed. “Your feelings were only hurt because there were so many of them. If it was only me or me and a couple of others, you’d be fine.”

“What?!” Will squawked. “That’s not the point!”

“Nance,” Jonathan said from the doorway. They all turned and looked at him. He was leaning against the doorway, arms folded and legs crossed at the ankle. “This isn’t what we talked about and you know it.”

Nancy looked defeated. She turned back to Steve. “I’m sorry about how I treated you. For all of it. Not just the shovel talk thing. You’re a good person. You deserved better than me and when you got him, I was jealous. Of course I love Jonathan.” She turned to him. “I do!” She turned back to Steve. “But you and Eddie have something so special and...” she threw her arms in the air. “I don’t know.”

“So you gave me the shovel talk about not hurting Eddie,” Steve said, “because you were jealous that I was able to find someone better than you?”

“That makes me sound like a horrible person,” she whispered.

“It really does,” Will agreed.

Nancy crossed her arms and looked at the floor. “I just wanted you realize how special what you have with Eddie is. And instead of talking to you like an actual adult, I threatened you instead. That was wrong and I am sorry. You don’t deserve it.”

Steve pulled her in for a hug, too. “I think this is why we would have never worked out, Nance. I love you and I think I always will. But sometimes you get lost in your head and let it do all the talking. Which means the people around you get hurt.”

She nodded. “I just want people to hear me that I forget they have feelings, too.”

“Just remember that,” he murmured, “and we’re good, okay?”

“Okay...” she said softly.

Steve gave Nancy a squeeze and then let her go.

Jonathan turned to Will. “El’s here, too. Why don’t you go keep her from murdering Nancy and Dustin while I handle the next one?”

Will wavered and then nodded, following Nancy out to the front room.

Steve watched him go with a frown. “What was that about?”

And then Mike walked in and Steve’s eyes went wide and he mouthed, ‘Oh.’

Mike stood there between Jonathan and Steve looking at the ground and Steve was struck by how much alike the two Wheeler siblings were.

“This should be by far the most interesting of the apologies,” Steve said. “Whatcha got, Wheeler?”

Mike looked up at him a little stunned. “At the meeting...intervention? Fuck I don’t know what to call it. But Jonathan said something that stuck with me. That you haven’t been that stuck up prick in years.”

Steve raised an eyebrow at Jonathan who just shrugged.

“And it got me thinking,” Mike continued. “Why am I so hostile to you? Because you dated Nancy? But that doesn’t makes sense because I don’t treat Jonathan that way.”

“Did you find an answer?” Steve asked.

Mike shook his head. “And that’s when I realized that I was doing it out of habit.”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Being a dick was a habit?”

“Being a dick to you was a habit,” Mike corrected. “And that’s not right. Holding a grudge for something you did so long ago and getting mad at you when you said it bothered you? That’s not fair.”

“Life rarely is,” Steve said softly.

Mike cocked his head. “True, but that doesn’t mean I have to actively make it worse.”

Steve nodded appreciatively. “Also true.”

Mike stood up straighter and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I’ve been a dick to you. But I also was only joking about Eddie. For me it wasn’t serious, but hearing that everyone had given you the shovel talk? Holy shit, man, that wasn’t right. The reason I thought it was a joke was because anyone who’s spent more than five minutes with Eddie knows he doesn’t take shit from anyone. If anyone was going to bury you for being a dick to him, it would be Eddie himself.”

Jonathan and Steve glanced at each other and nodded.

“But after I heard that everyone else had done it and meant it?” Mike continued. “Yeah, that was bullshit. So I’m sorry it got out of hand. I’m sorry if my joke added to your suffering. Because I never meant it hurt. Honest.”

Steve sighed. “Yeah. I see where you’re coming from and I accept your apology.”

Mike stood there awkwardly tugging at his shirt hem. “Can I get a hug, too?”

Steve smiled and stepped up to wrap his arms around Mike’s shoulders. Mike sighed and leaned into the hug. He didn’t return the hug, but just stood there enjoying the warmth.

After a few moments, he took a step back and cleared his throat. “Thanks.” He sniffled and then turned to Jonathan. “You won’t tell Nancy about this, will you?”

Jonathan shook his head. “Not if you don’t want me to.”

Steve nodded. “I’m not going to tell anyone shit, man.”

Mike relaxed. “Right. Thanks.”

And he shuffled back to the front room, still sniffling.

“That was certainly something,” Jonathan said after a moment.

Steve chuckled shaking his head. “Those Wheeler kids, whew.”

Jonathan laughed. “Happy to have dodged that bullet?”

“You have no idea, man,” Steve said. “You have no idea.”

***

Part Five  Part Six

Tag List: @justforthedead89 @zerokrox-blog @ihavekidneys @didntwant2come @thelittleclare @liorereshkigal @estrellami-1 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @telidina @stevesbipanic @paintsplatteredandimperfect @a-little-unsteddie @jonesn4coffee @resident-gay-bitch @obliosworld @croatoan-like-its-hot @evix-syne666 @emly03

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #jonathan and steve are friends #ladykailtiha writes

[duckwithablog]

hola!! i saw ur requests were open, and this is kinda my first time making one, so i’m sorry if this doesn’t make sense lmfao TvT

could i maybe request rise! leo with a gn! s/o who has one of those really wheezy, contagious laughs? i happen to laugh like that a lot, and my friends always tease me for it, so i thought it would make a really fluffy x reader idea lol

if you don’t wanna write this, it’s completely fine! have a great day/night :)

— 🍉

FINALLY trying to write again and let me first say that i am SO SORRY this was so late... I hope this makes up for the wait!

Rise Leo x Reader with a wheezy laugh

Leo is already a pretty giggly guy

He loves to laugh and he loves to make other people laugh; it's kind of his thing

But man... Call it corny but out of everyone else, he loves hearing your laugh the most

Everytime you start laughing, best bet he follows suit

Like when you laugh, it's immediately followed up by his

He always side eyes you with this silly grin before he starts laughing along with you

Sometimes, you guys even laugh in sync! It's kind of impressive, actually-

Makes 10x more bad jokes when you're around in hopes one of them will make you laugh

You can tell he's doing it for you because he keeps glancing at you when he does it

Bro is not subtle at all HAHSAHS

Donnie is so sick of him. The villains are probably sick of him too, because of the amount of puns he keeps making in the middle of battle-

Even if you aren't there and he makes a pun, he'd pause and go

"Ooh, that was a nice one! Hey, you think Y/n would find that funny?"

He has entire file of puns inside his brain SPECIFICALLY to use when with you

Would affectionately tease you about your laugh

As in he'd call you the STUPIDEST nicknames ever

Stuff like "Squeaky chair" or "Dying dolphin" or "Tea kettle" or something equally as dumb

God he'd probably call you Wheezer. Like the band.

"It's the perfect nickname, what are you talking about? See, it's cuz your laugh is wheezy and I'm blue, and you know what else is Wheezy and blue?"

Leo just likes seeing you happy in general, honestly

Will always, always tell you how much he loves hearing your laugh

He is your own personal stand up comedian <33

================

Oof, it's been a while since I've written any ROTTMNT character... I hope I characterized Leo okay here! Again, so sorry for the long ass wait- I hope you like this!

#🍉 anon #duckiswriting #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt #rise leo x reader #rise of the tmnt x reader #tmnt18 x reader #tmnt leo x reader #leonardo x reader #leo x reader #tmnt x reader