#and as far as I was concerned neither of them were really in the wrong or the right about it (it was just sort of teenaged drama-y)

[victory-cookies]

nothing like a little friend drama to spice up the morning. lord

[m-ilkiee]

Monsters: Mikey Sano x Reader x Izana Kurokawa

Chapter 1: Warning Signals

series summary: your grievous sin was Emma standing up for you to her brothers. and now you’re going to pay the heavy price for destroying their perfect family dynamic.

chapter summary: being friends with Emma Sano is nice, until you get on the wrong side of the Sano brothers.

content warning: DARK CONTENT, NSFW, misogyny, alcohol/drug use, brief mention of violence, religious and purity culture themes, classism, slutshaming, p*rn mention, sexual assault, noncon, public initimacy, fingering (fem recieving), dacryphilia, gaslighting, manipulation, mention of vomitting, victim blaming.

r-18+ (not suitable for 17 and under)

word count: 10.1k words

note: this chapter has been edited and the storyline shifted to the original plan for the series. consequent chapters 2-5 will follow suit and vastly vary from the og series i posted before.

masterlist||chapter2||taglist

KNOWING how big both the TENJIKU and TOMAN fraternities were on campus, it was a bit awkward being friends with the youngest sister of two of the most popular guys in this school.

Any where you two went, she would always be the center of attention. You didn't really mind being in her shadow because as long as you have her, you’ll be fine. People called you a lost puppy, riding on Emma’s cocktails just to get by in university.

They didn’t know how you both have self-care days where you would paint your nails, wear facial masks and watch “Mean Girls” or “Clueless” on her laptop because you weren’t allowed to watch it when you were young. Or how the both of you always have study dates with hot coffee and exchanging annotated notes so that you both remain at the top of your game. They don’t know about the secrets you both share and the trust you both have for each other.

You don’t have to explain anything to anyone.

Emma is a pretty satisfied girl. Her college tuition is paid for in full and her time here has always been smooth. As far as you knew, she grew up being loved by all three of her brothers and they doted on her to the point she thinks they spoiled her.

-You don’t think they spoiled her -okay maybe a little with the way she spends money, but everyone has a vice. Right?

You could tell she knew what familial love is with how sweet and kind she was to you when you opened up about your family troubles.

The only issue is that her two brothers, Mikey and Izana, have been at each other's necks for some years now. Mostly Izana inciting violence at Mikey and Mikey retailiating; it’s the number one concern in the Sano household the way those two fight and argue.

From what Emma told you, Izana’s provocative nature was the gasoline to Mikey’s volatile mental state, akin to fire. Even the littlest of things that no one would bat an eye for could incite a bloody brawl between them. And as they grew older, more people were involved in their petty rivalry, since neither Emma nor Shinichiro agreed to take their side.

Despite the looming hostility, Mikey decided to throw in the towel and agree for a truce. At first, Emma couldn’t believe it. Until two weeks had passed and they hadn’t fought.

"They haven't gotten along at a stretch like this, I tell ya!" Emma had said excitedly while selecting what she would wear that day. You let out a small smile as she tossed multiple clothes on her large bed. Being the youngest had its perks, like how her oldest brother, Shinichiro paid for her to have the biggest room in one of the dorms all to herself.

You heard that on the front, he had one of the biggest Motorcycle brands and behind all of that, his real business was handling the black dragons, one of the biggest gangs in Japan.

You wonder how Emma feels about her brothers' lifestyle, but judging from her huge wardrobe and expensive jewelry, you don't think it bothers her too much.

Not like you cared either. To you, she was just Emma. Nothing more or less.

The blonde haired girl swiftly turns to you with two options in her hand, a pink sequined dress and a white halter crop top and a pink mini skirt with ruffles at the bottom. "I need to look really good today, which one says 'I'm so happy my brothers are not at each other's necks for once?' " She asked animatedly.

You've never seen her this happy since you met her, unless Draken was involved and somehow it made you happier too. It must be nice to be so close to your family members all the time and be able to mend your relationship with them.

You've never had that. You don't think of your family much. You don't wish to either, ever since your father cursed you out for rejecting a marriage proposal from one of his friends to pursue higher education and your mother stayed quiet, complicit -all the while silently seething that all her training went down the drain. The first time you ever went against their old fashioned ideals after years of obedience was met with immediate punishment.

Ironic.

You don’t regret it, though. Because you wouldn’t have met Emma.

"The second one is a better choice." You said with a smile, gazing at her with adoration in your eyes. “The skirt ruffles makes your legs look good. Pair it with the white strap heels and you’re good.”

The blonde broke out into a wider grin, the clothes pooling at her sides as she rested a hand on her hips. “Look at you giving me fashion advice.” She teased lightheartedly. “I feel like a proud mother growing up!”

“I learned from the best.”

You both fall into a comfortable silence and you take that time to admire her. You’ve always thought Emma was gorgeous, from her bright smile, to the twinkling of her eyes when she’s mischievous, to her enthusiasm for life in general. It was a no-brainer that guys would gravitate towards Emma and try their luck into dating her. Eventually the threat of her brothers or the threat of her equally terrifying friends with benefits who just happened to be the vice president of Toman, Ken Ryugi, would be enough to back off.

You wished you were as likeable and as beautiful as she was. You were always too shy to do anything or talk to people, let alone guys that you liked.

“So have you picked your outfit for the party?”

You’re snapped out of the trance-like state to see Emma standing in front of you, her body so close, you could smell her vivienne westwood. “Me?” You asked her, your tone laced with confusion. “I don’t think I’m gonna go.”

“And why is that?”

You paused, trying to organize your thoughts on how to break this to her without ruining her mood tonight. “I don’t think…” you took a deep breath before saying. “Your brothers would want me there.”

There’s a shift in her look, so minor but you could pick out the way her smile faltered. You both knew that her brothers could be… weird around you. It was something Emma couldn’t understand for the life of her.

Izana was usually very displeased with your presence and makes it very well known he doesn't want you there with snide remarks and forgetting your own order. His friends, for the fear of him, wouldn't speak to you either. It took Emma angrily yelling at him for him to be civil towards you. But the second she turned her back, Izana would go back to his usual self, being rude and peppering it with little acts of violence like pushing your hand so that your drink spilled all over the floor and even pushed your laptop bag to the ground, destroying the device you saved money to buy for months.

Mikey was on the other end of the spectrum. He would ignore your very presence and talk to everyone else but you and the rest followed suit. You’ve tried to at least make small talk with him, anything but he would talk over you. You heard from other people that he’s the nice brother and he’s usually so easy going- you’ve seen it with your very eyes the way he interacts with Emma’s other friends, Hinata and Senju.

And it hurts you. You’ve had a crush on him for so long, longer than you even knew Emma, so you don’t understand why he’s acting so differently with you. Seeing him talk with other girls sweetly makes you green with envy, wishing that it was you. Craving for just a piece of his attention.

Maybe he just doesn't like shy girls.

Only some guy named Takemitchi would try and explain that they don't hate you. It was surprising, considering that you knew people like Hakkai - whom you attended the same confirmation class and high school with- and even he made no effort to at least speak with you whenever you came to the frat house or met on the road.

You stopped bothering to make either of the Sano brothers like you, so long as they let Emma keep hanging out with you. It was obvious that they hold some animosity for you when you’ve done nothing to them.

“Nonsense!”

Before you could say anything, Emma pulled you up by your arm and dragged you off the bed towards her closet. “That’s a load of bullshit. There’s no way I’m leaving my best friend to rot in her room when there’s a Sano party going on.”

“But-”

“Nope!” She cut you off stubbornly, before pulling out some clothes from her closet, trying to match them with your skin tone. Satisfied with the outfit she picked, she puts the clothes in your arms and practically shoves you into her bathroom.

“EMMA-”

“Don’t Emma me, (name). You’re going to take a shower and by the time you’re out, I should be back with a makeup kit that suits you.” You tried to speak again but she silenced you by pressing a finger on your lips. “We’re going to be the hottest girls at that party, whether they like it or not.”

“But these look very short-”

“Sorry, can’t hear you, bye!”

You sighed when Emma shut the bathroom door in your face, locking it so that you would do what she said.

There was no winning with Emma when she made her mind up. Might as well follow through with it.

YOU had no idea how big this party would be.

You've come to the Toman frat house before with Emma to see Mikey and Draken once, and admired how large and spacious the three story building was. Now imagine that large of a space being cramped up with nearly the whole school's population.

Somewhat, you’re grateful that the outfit Emma lent you was as short as it was. The house was so hot, you could faint from how stuffy it was.

You hold on tightly onto Emma's hand, intertwined with each other as the both of you push through the big crowd, ignoring the sweaty, drunk students as you headed for the stairs. She, being used to parties like this, was able to navigate through the raging crowd with some form of ease.

After a few more squeezes, you both finally make it to the stairs.

As you both climbed up, you could see different people, all having fun in their own way. You're rarely invited to parties, so this was still more of a nouveau experience for you. A girl is asking for a light, a tiny blunt in between her teeth until another person lights it up for her. You see some guy shotgunning another girl, before melting into a hot kiss, tongue melding with each other. Someone else is drowning shot after shot and a couple is practically dry humping for everyone to see, a poor excuse to dance with the music.

The obscene sight surprisingly doesn’t disgust you, knowing your background, it just makes you curious. How would it feel to try one of those things? Smoking? Drinking? Making out with someone? Emma had told you about her own experiences; as long as you took it easy, it could be fun. Her first time with anything was with Draken and he was always gentle with her, plus her brothers were fine with it, even making sure whatever she took wasn’t laced with anything.

However, you were taught differently. That your body is a temple that you should keep clean for God and doing any of these things will sully you.

You didn’t believe that as much as you did when you were younger, but you didn’t want to test your luck either in case it ended up being true. Besides, you would look like a complete moron if you tried anything with them.

You tried as much as possible not to make it obvious that you're staring, but that failed when you caught the attention of a tall silhouette smoking. Sharp golden eyes stared you down and you instantly looked away, not wanting to get in trouble with some random guy.

You've heard rumors about Toman or Tenjiku guys absolutely beating anyone up for just staring at them wrong. You don't want to be victim number seventy-five this year.

Finally, you both reached your destination; a room on the second floor where Mikey had asked Emma to meet him. The ground floor was always the place where non-members stayed, trashed and partied. The first is accessible to all members of Toman (and now, Tenjiku) to hang out, have a private party and smoke. The second floor is only for executives and their girls or sisters.

You're a bit worried for yourself as Emma spoke to the person guarding the door. Mikey never said YOU could come along with Emma. You're no executive. You're no girlfriend of their executives and you are definitely not related to any of them. You had told Emma to leave you on the ground floor but she insisted that no one would be angry with your presence.

You've suspected that Emma has been trying to hook you up with someone in either of the fraternities. She was always insistent that you at least get to know them.

"(Name) come on."

Without waiting for your protest, Emma yanked you into the rather pristine room that housed the executives. Your eyes drank in the sight briefly, thanking God that it wasn't filthy or smelly as you had imagined it. The execs were all playing a game of poker, with an orange haired girl -Hinata Tachibana, his girlfriend, perched on Takemitchi's lap, laughing at his bad luck.

Emma's eyes quickly scanned around the room for a brief moment until she saw her two brothers sitting side by side, both engrossed in the game. Mikey’s blonde hair is tousled, like he’s been running his hand through it repeatedly. His baggy white shirt is unbuttoned half way and slips down his shoulder, revealing a black tank top and large jean trousers. Izana is different, white hair falling across his handsome face, leather jacket discarded on the back rest of the chair, leaving him in only a tight red shirt and tighter leather jeans, various chains and accessories hanging from his neck. Two earrings dangle from his ears- you can’t remember the name or significance.

‘They’re really good looking. Really-’

Without a warning, she lets go of your poor arm and jumps on top of Mikey and Izana, tackling them into a hug. Cards fly as she squeezes them hard, to which they discard their initial anger of losing their deck and hugging her back.

"Emma, next time give us a warning, will you?" Mikey pouted. You thought it looked cute, but immediately discarded that stupid thought. The guy hates your guts, don’t think he’s hot. "You ruined my game."

"As if you weren't losing dipshit." Izana teased, his face more relaxed than you’re used to seeing. "She did you a favor. You were down to 100 chips."

"You were down to 50. Who's the loser?"

"Still you."

You could see a smile tug at the corner of her lips lift up as she stands up. "Finally glad that two of you aren't strangling each other for once." She said triumphantly, hands on her hips. Her voice has a pep to it. "Last time both of you were in the same room, it didn't end well."

"Doesn't mean I'm not thinking about it." Izana scoffed. Suddenly, his purple eyes left his sister's face and trailed onto you who just stood a few feet away, awkwardly. You watched in real time as his smile fell, his features darkening the moment he locked gazes with you.

Dear God.

"What is SHE doing here?"

His harsh tone made everyone in the room shift their attention towards you. Your blood ran hot with embarrassment, feeling Izana’s purple eyes scan you up and down in disgust while everyone else just looks at you. Mikey’s gaze burned holes into you as well, silently asking you what the fuck you were doing here.

It was obvious. They never wanted you here. This entire thing was a mistake from the beginning.

"I-I'm glad I could walk with you all the way here, Emma" you stuttered, lying through your teeth. You didn't like the way both brothers were staring at you, like they could walk over to you and wring your neck at any moment. "I'll go join the party downstairs now, so I guess I'll see you soon-"

Pulling away from her brothers abruptly, the blonde girl rushed over to you and grabbed your arm, halting your attempt at running away as she dragged you back in place. You cursed underneath your breath at Emma’s desperate attempt to try to get you to stay.

“Hold on, now (name). I’ll talk to them” Emma whispered reassuringly, before turning to her brothers and increasing her voice in full volume. "She's here with me, is there a problem?”

There was a tense silence in the room as everyone stared at you. Mikey's tone was ice cold as he directed his angry gaze at you, dark eyes scanning down your body. You shuddered when his gaze settled on your legs just briefly before snapping back at Emma’s face.

"Emma. When I sent you that text, I specifically said you should come ALONE."

You felt your heart twist in your chest at the emphasis of that word from none other than Mikey. He really hated you.

"Come on Mikey. This is ridiculous." Emma plead your case. You don't realize you're shaking until your friend squeezed your hand gently in an attempt to calm you down and you squeezed back, wanting this to be over as soon as possible. "Why would I leave her downstairs?"

"Because that’s where all the beggars like her stay."

Your eyes widened the second the words left his mouth, Emma following suit at his words. The shock was soon replaced by embarrassment as Izana looked at you with a devious smile on his face, continuing his verbal assault. "What? I was just making an astute observation. You did say she was poor, so am I really wrong?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you Izana-”

“Wait-” Mikey cuts in again, holding a hand to silence her, his eyes fixated onto your outfit, the wheels in his brain turning as he scanned your clothes from head to toe. You suddenly felt naked in the simple white top and jean skirt you wore, as he actually looked at you properly for the first time.

Your shyness is quickly short lived as his facial expression morphed from one of neutrality to nothing but pure rage.

“Is that the jean skirt I bought for you, Emma?”

Your heart dropped at how loud he barked, completely silencing everybody in the room. All eyes fell on you now, putting you at the center stage of attention. Emma quickly pushed you behind her, trying to shield you from their staring the moment she realized what was about to happen.

“Mikey, wait, I was the one who insisted she should wear it, not her.” Emma started to explain, her tone apologetic. “She had nothing to wear and i gave her those since you complained she dressed like a nun-”

“So you decided to dress her up like a cheap hooker instead?” Izana scoffed nonchalantly, his eyes flickering over to your outfit. “You know your clothes looks so cheap and washed out on her. She looks like she stands on the streets and asks for sex in exchange for money.”

"Izana!”

Emma started to reprimand her brother when Mikey cut in again to join Izana in practically insulting you. “Come on Emma, look at your friend. One wrong move and she’ll flash her panties. Don’t you think she’s looking a bit too desperate?”

Your hand flies to the edge of your skirt, dragging it down to try and cover up your legs as the gazes of the men leering at your legs. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Mikey, who is quick to point it out. “See? Even your friend knows she looks like a hooker. She’s trying to pull your skirt down because she knows she’s guilty...”

Each word seemed to stab you in the heart multiple times. You quickly averted your eyes to the ground as he continued to berate you about your looks, tearing down your confidence bit by bit with each word until you're reduced into nothing but nerves and silent tears. Everyone was staring at you now, scrutinizing gazes drinking in the sight of your exposed flesh, snickering quietly.

Unwanted attention.

"Next time, she shouldn't dress like this if she wants to tag along with you…"

“THAT IS ENOUGH."

Emma’s voice rang through the entire room, anger evident in her tone. The two brothers sat there in silence, stunned at the kind of tone Emma had just used on them right now, as if they’ve never heard or seen her this angry in their life before. You could feel her tremble violently, her grip on your hand tightening as fury radiated from her body.

You were sure she’s holding back things to say with how badly she is shaking. Like she doesn’t want to say anything that she might regret saying. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it immediately, as if biting her words back.

"We're leaving."

“EMMA-”

“Oh come ON-”

Emma threw an arm around you and guided you out of the room amidst her brothers yelling at her to come back. Your friend is gentle with you, hiding your teary face from prying eyes as she leads you through the stairs. The loud music was enough to mask your uncontrolled sobbing, but it didn’t stop people with prying eyes from turning their gazes towards you, wondering what the hell happened to you.

You had never felt this embarrassed in your life. As much as Emma tried to comfort you on your way to her room, their words kept on reverberating in your head. You knew how hard it was to get out of that mindset and now, every confidence you worked for, has crashed down like a pile of cards. Even the way they looked at you made you feel so sick to your stomach.

You've been drilled into as a young child that you're dressed the way you're addressed and because of that, you have always made sure you looked modest enough. You were used to your brothers calling innocent girls whores because of what they wore, that they were asking for it.

And now witnessing it first hand just made you feel so dirty. From the way they looked at you, to how they spoke about your body. It made you ill to the core.

You’ve never been so humiliated in your life.

The two of you managed to walk back to Emma's room, since hers was closer. Her phone never stopped buzzing all through your journey, even when you got back to her room. You could see the pain in her eyes as she ignored each call, only worsening your guilt. You wished you had stayed back in the dorms instead of ruining her night; she was supposed to be having fun, not walking you back to your room prematurely because you couldn’t take criticism.

"You should pic-"

"No (name)." Emma was quick to assert as she helped you lay down on her queen sized bed, the soft surface. "You don't need to feel pity for them, you're the one they hurt, not the other way around."

You wanted to protest when she fell on the bed beside you, yanking her covers over you both and encasing you in a hug. "You don't have to worry about them. I just want you to feel better." She whispered in your ears, rubbing your back gently. "You looked good tonight."

You could only nod in response at Emma's affirmation, wanting to so badly believe her. You want to believe what Emma thinks about you but you just can’t when you feel like abject filth. Your lips began to wobble, tears rolling down your cheeks once again as their words rang in your ears.

Months of unpacking that trauma, flushed down the drain by a single action.

Emma didn't say anything in response to your fresh tears, she only hugged you tight and rubbed circles on your back to soothe you until you cried yourself to sleep.

   “YOU implied that she’s a fucking prostitute Mikey, what the hell did I misunderstand?”

You woke up with a start on hearing Emma’s harsh tone echo throughout the room.

You opened your eyes groggily, rolling the covers down a little bit to see what was going on. She was standing at the open door, changed into her pink nightgown, her hair cascading down her shoulder as she argued with someone in the hallways. You push the covers a little further to see who she was talking to, catching a glimpse of a blond haired male standing in the hallways, blocking the only source of light filtering into the room with his body.

“Don’t yell at me, I’m still your older brother.”

‘Mikey?’

You perk up at his voice, instantly awake hearing his irritated tone. What was Mikey even doing in the female dorms by this time of the night? You glance at Emma’s sanrio clock on her nightstand that reads 00:00am. By now, no male student is supposed to be here, but knowing how influential Mikey is, he might have bribed the security to let him in.

His quiet sigh interrupted your thoughts and you turned your attention back to them, wondering what was going on. He started talking again, taking a tone much softer than before. “You’ve changed Emma. You blow me off to spend time with a stranger-”

“She is not a strang-”

“She is to me. You have enough friends Emma, what do you need this one for? What’s so fucking special about her?” His voice grows harsh again as he goes off a tangent about you. “You’re gonna get tired of her Emma. She’s a new thing but sooner or later you’ll get sick of her.”

Your heart broke at Mikey’s words. Is that what he thinks of you? This was supposed to be the easy going guy on campus that helped girls cross the street and everyone liked?

What did you ever do to him?

“Stop it!” Emma hissed underneath her breath, trying to keep her voice down but drive her point across simultaneously. “Stop talking about (name) like she’s a pet or a fucking toy Mikey. I care for her and I won’t stand you talking shit about her.”

“Em for fuck sake, just get dressed and get your ass back to the party.” Your jaw nearly dropped at how he’s quick to switch topics, ignoring what she just said. “Draken’s waiting downstairs and Izana’s gonna be pissed if you don’t come back.”

“You’re gonna ignore everything I just said right now, huh?”

“Em-”

“You and Izana can go fuck yourselves.”

“You can’t be seriou-”

Emma didn’t let him finish when she slammed the door in his face, turning the key as fast as possible. Her body sagged on the door, a quiet ‘god’ escaping her lips. Her silhouette stayed in that position for two full minutes before she walked to the bed again.

In silence, she laid beside you, wrapping an arm around your body and dragging the blankets over you both once again. You felt safe.

   THE next few days after the party were eventful.

Emma had spent them with you, hanging out in the library to study and going to your work place after a hard day at school, just sitting and talking with you when there was no customer around. You ended up in your dorm room or hers afterwards, eating the snacks you both got from shops around the school.

It was nice. Emma was usually busy with other things, so having her with you all the time seems so perfect. You enjoy the quality time you spend with her, really.

But guilt wouldn’t let you do so.

She had isolated herself from her friend group affiliated with either of her brothers, ignoring their pleas to at least talk to either Mikey or Izana. Hina or Senju would try to walk up to her on her way to class and Emma would outright ignore them. In a span of days, you’ve seen countless plushies, perfumes, expensive jewelry thrown into the dustbin, either from Mikey or Izana at the back of her dorm- their apology ripped letters ripped to shreds.

You had taken the time to piece one from Izana together and felt your heart bleed at his begging for them to “please work it out. We may not be siblings by blood but you’ll always be my little sister” and Mikey’s “Em I’m sorry for everything. Please let’s talk, I’ll listen to you.”

Your brothers had never done anything like that before. Usually, they would tell you to suck it up or even laugh at you for being too ‘sensitive’.

Then and there, you decided to talk to either of the Sano brothers in hopes you would mend their relationship. A naïve part of you thinks that this is the right thing for you to do; Emma has done so much for you, it’s time to return the favor.

You hadn’t told Emma what you planned on doing, knowing very well that it would make the poor girl far more furious than she was already. She would tell you that you have nothing to apologize for and get angry with you for suggesting to make peace with them, claiming you did nothing wrong.

The last thing you want is to escalate the issue. You just wanted Emma’s happiness.

You gripped the strap of your tote bag firmly, your eyes fixated on Mikey’s Chevrolet that was outside your department, possibly waiting for Emma to come out so that he would talk to her. Gathering all your courage, you walked towards the car and gently knock on the passenger’s seat tinted window to get his attention.

It wound down immediately, revealing the blonde haired man staring back at you with an annoyed expression.

“Are you trying to break my window?”

His rude tone made you instantly regret even trying to talk to him. Unfortunately for you, the decision was made and you stuck to it. ‘The letters, remember the letters’ You whispered to yourself. “I’m sorry Mikey I didn’t mean-”

“Manjiro.”

You blink twice at his interruption, trying to make sense of what was going on. “Huh?”

“Only my friends call me Mikey and as far I’m concerned, you aren’t one of them.”

There it is. That same attitude of that night. It almost made you angry with the way he was talking to you. You had every right to walk away from him - he was the one consistently harassing you, not the other way around, so who does he think he is?

Instead, you took a deep breath, thinking about just being the bigger person and how you want to make peace with him, so that everything returned to normal. “Okay, I’m sorry about your window Manjiro.” You added politely. “Can we talk?”

He narrowed his eyes at you suspiciously and you expected him to roll up his window and just drive away after that.

“Get in.”

You were shocked, but that quickly wore off when he opened the door for you to enter. You settled in quickly, snapping the seatbelt on after closing the door behind you.

There’s tense silence between the two of you as the car moved towards a more secluded part of the campus. You anxiously looked at your lap while he drove, wondering how you were going to start the conversation with him without instantly setting him off. Your gaze eventually drifted up to his face; from his half-lidded dark eyes to his straight nose, down to his soft pink lips.

You could see the resemblance between him and Emma, from their facial structure to genuinely good skin -not to mention they were both attractive. Despite his height, you knew a large amount of girls that crushed on him religiously, you included. You heard he treated any girl he was with, from his ex-girlfriends to his situationships, down to his one night stands with utmost respect and care. And despite everything he’s said to you, unlike his brother, he never hurt you violently or physically.

You just wished he was just as polite with you as he was with other girls. Maybe you could bring it up in discussions.

The car stops, bringing you back to reality. You realized that he had parked behind an abandoned class far behind the rest of the school. According to the university’s history, this was the first ever lecture hall that was built for the school, and eventually they decided not to renovate it as a remembrance from their little beginnings.

Or they didn’t want to spend any money on it.

Mikey switched the engine off, completely silencing the environment between the two of you. It is then that the realization hits you. You’re all alone with one of the most dangerous guys in this school, in a place where no one could hear you even if you scream. The thought makes you nervous, hoping to high heavens that Manjiro doesn’t want to hurt you.

“Well?” He asked, breaking the ice between the two of you. Mikey leaned back on the driver’s seat, turning to look at you. “You wanted to talk? Start talking.”

‘Okay. I can do this’ You whispered gently, exhaling through your lips. You can do this. “Mike- I-i mean Manjiro, I know it’s awkward, after everything that happened at the party and now it’s all a mess.” You cringed at the way you’re jumbling your words, this was not how it was meant to go. “We still haven’t resolved things yet-”

“We?”

You’re taken aback by his shocked tone as if he didn’t remember what both he and Izana had said to you, but when he doesn’t elaborate further, you take matters into your own hands. “Yes. You both said some unsavory things to me that hurt me that day, and it made Emma mad.” You paced yourself, not wanting to start rambling again. “I also want to apologize for disrupting your party by taking those words to heart and if I have offended you in any way, please forgive me.”

There’s an unreadable expression on his face, as if he’s slowly processing all the words you had just said. You watched his reaction morph from surprise to blankness, nothing on his face, which scared you more than any other expression.

“Get out of my car.”

What?

You quickly turned to the man, trying to understand what you had done wrong. This wasn’t how the conversation was supposed to go in your head. You expected that Manjiro would be civil enough to at least apologize for his actions too or talk, not this.  “Wait, Manjiro, what did I say wrong-”

“You don’t even realize you’re the problem!” You nearly jump out of your skin at the sudden increase in his pitch as he bares out his frustration with you. “Em can never fucking shut up about how I need to apologize to you whenever I try to talk to her! It’s always about you, you, you! It’s frustrating.” he snapped. “Ever since you came into Em’s life, she just can’t help herself bringing you up. It’s always shit like ‘Oh, (name) is such a nice girl, you should talk to her, she’s a good listener.’ ‘Sorry I can’t come to the outings, I have to study with (name), you know she can’t go alone anywhere’ ‘Oh, this reminds me of (name), she can’t even say the word sex without hiding her face, she’s so innocent.’ She’s so fucking enamoured with you and we’re sick of it.”

You knew the brothers were extremely family motivated, but you had no idea that you were getting in the way of them spending time together. “I didn’t know...” Your voice shakes, tone apologetic as your gaze falls onto your lap. “I…I didn’t know I was causing a rift between you guys, I’m so sorry. I just want to make up for everything and put this behind us.”

A tense silence followed, and you didn't look up from your lap to look at Manjiro, still intimidated at his sudden outburst. You could understand their aversion to you, their family is quite close and their bonds intertwined; so for a stranger to barge in and attempt to tear things apart, even unknowingly can be frightening for them.

Not like you would know what it is like for family to love you.

Eventually, you feel Manjiro turn his gaze towards you, dark eyes scanning your figure until settling on you. You held your breath as he finally cleared his throat, turning his attention to you fully for the first time, ever as he began to speak.

“You want us to make up.”

His tone was plain, as opposed to how angry he sounded a few moments ago. Somehow, you feel weird, slightly more alert than before as he pauses again, goosebumps littering your skin. ‘What’s wrong with me? Why do I feel so scared as he’s staring at me?’ you questioned yourself, before shaking your head, clearing your thoughts. ‘This is Mikey I’m with. Sure, he’s intimidating, but he would never hurt a girl. He’s a good guy.’

You decided to push your odd feelings aside. You were here for peace, not to think ill of him, not especially when you have a soft spot for him in your heart. And you wanted it to happen by any means necessary. Maybe showing him you were not a threat to his place in Emma’s life would make him feel much better around you. “I know that you may not trust me, but maybe if you got to know me better, and I also got to know you and your friends, you’ll see I mean no harm.”

“Is that so? You want us to know each other better?”

It was slight, but you could hear it. The slight mocking tone in his voice and instantly you felt stupid. It was clear he wasn’t taking you or your request seriously as you hoped he would, opting to see right through you instead as he stared at you, his gaze lingering to your hands lying in your lap.

“I-i feel like you’re not taking me seriously-"

“If you wore a longer skirt, then I wouldn’t have gotten so distracted.”

You instantly felt self-conscious when you realized where his gaze truly was from that moment on, and started dragging down your skirt to cover the space between your thighs and socks. The action only seemed to annoy him. “This is my problem with you. If you knew it was short, why did you wear it then?”

“I thought it was cute-” You felt stupider, uttering those words, but before you could say anything else, Mikey cut you off. “I never said it wasn’t cute, (name). It’s a cute skirt. It looks good on you.”

Your heart jumps in excitement at his compliment, your entire body getting warm at his words. “Really?” You uttered shyly, letting your guard down as a small smile crawls up your pretty lips.

“Yeah, real cute. You’d fit as one of the actresses featured in the schoolgirl category on a porn site.”

Your smile dropped instantly as the words left his mouth. “I’m not a slut.” your voice trembled, but just like arguing with your father, it’s no use. He let out a loud scoff, his gaze flickering from your face to your lap, settling between your legs. “But you dress like one. So might as well just perform for me, hmm?”

Your body tenses as you feel a hot palm grab at your exposed thigh, crawling underneath your skirt. You quickly push his hand off your thighs, earning a somewhat shocked reaction from him, as if he’s not used to being rejected. “I’m not…” you start to explain to him, slowly reaching for the door in a bid to escape. “... I don’t do things like that-”

“Does it look like I fucking care?” The blonde man snapped back at you, his surprise giving way to annoyance and he started to grab at your thighs again, only to be brushed off by you, angering him further. “I know you’re not as “innocent” as you claim to be. Stop fucking pretending. I know you want this!”

“I said I don’t do stuff like that! Stop it!” You yelled back at him, frustrated that he can’t just take no for an answer. You try to pry the door open or undo the latch, only to discover that it was stuck and that there was no way out.

‘No, no, no, no…’

Your heart starts hammering loudly in your chest, dread filling your veins when you realized how alone and utterly fucked you are.

You’re beginning to realize that Manjiro driving the both of you to a secluded place in the middle of nowhere was most likely intentional. He must have planned this so that no one would hear you both.

“Manjiro open the door or I’ll- I’ll-” 

“Or you’ll what?” He spat back, dangling the keys before your very eyes before putting it somewhere you couldn’t see. “You wanna open the door so bad? Get the key from me then.”

You’re quick to react, lunging forward in an attempt to snatch the key for him. He easily resisted you grabbing at his body while laughing at your repeated screams to stop. It was like the more you begged and pleaded for him to let you go, the more he liked whatever game he was playing.

“THIS ISN’T FUNN- MANJIRO!”

Your screaming did nothing to deter him from practically jumping on you and pinning your arms against your chest with one firm hand, a leg separating your thighs. You twisted and turned, trying to fight your way out of his tight grip but to no avail. He was heavy and stronger than you had imagined, holding onto you like you weighed nothing at all.

His other hand reached underneath your skirt, skimming through your panties, making you squirm in your position at the feeling. Panic rises against your chest as he pushes the crotch part aside, revealing your pussy. “Wait! Wait, please Manjiro, I’m a virgin-” you try to reason with him as he traces through a streak of your hairy vulva, curling a strand in one finger before moving to your clit.

“You don’t shave?” His tone is so casual, like he isn’t doing something very abhorrent and wrong right now. His question is left hanging in the air as his finger starts to slowly circle around your clit. "Not like I care, it's better this way, anyways."

You’ve never been touched before. You’ve never touched yourself there either. You grew up in a household that taught you that anyone who isn’t your husband touching you is wrong. Your body is a temple to be kept for your husband.

So when Mikey’s slow and sensual movement against your clit begins, your body nearly seizes up with sensitivity. A loud gasp escapes your lips, followed by heavy breathing, your body shuddering with something unfamiliar and electric, sending signals that you didn’t know how to respond.

He strokes you faster, rubbing your sensitive nub in circles that has your eyes glazing over and your hips moving to feel more of his touches, wetting his car seat and your skirt with arousal. Mikey watched with interest the way you closed your eyes tight, your head lolled towards the side as your chest rises and falls, quiet ‘oh’ leaving your lips. He started to take it a step further, leaning over to your neck and trails kisses from your pulse point, to your jawline. He moved up to your ear and his long tongue darted towards the shell, licking it.

“Manjiro-” You gasped at the foreign wetness, with each flick of his tongue, sending pleasurable shivers down your body to your very core. Encouraged by your somewhat positive response, he continues licking your earlobe, his teeth occasionally grazing the shell as his fingers progressively leaves your clit, gathering your slick between his two fingers and tracing the outline of your hole.

“Shit” he groaned, feeling how wet you were. “You’re so wet right now, I could just slide in your pussy with ease.”

You wanted to protest when you felt two thick fingers inch into your unused hole. You wanted to push him off you and run out of the car until you were far away from him. Every part of your mind, your heart, everything in you wants Mikey OFF you as he forces your hole to accept his fingers.

And yet, you couldn’t even scream, you couldn’t claw at his face to scratch his eyes out for doing this to you. No. Instead, you’re arching your back and breathing his name into his ears over and over again, your hands clenched tightly in his grip as his fingers stretched your pussy out. All you do is tear up and let this sick pervert lick the salt rolling down your cheeks off, before going back to kissing the sensitive spot behind your ear.

“You’re so pretty when you cry f’me. Come on, keep making those noises.” 

He curled up his fingers, experimentally looking for that spot as the burn graduated to a pleasurable stretch, repeated moans leaving your lips. He fingered you, progressively increasing his speed and pleasure overriding your senses as he circled his thumb over your poor nub, simultaneously with him curling up your g-spot.

Your body responded to his touches, lips kissing up and down your neck, licking your pulse point before sinking his teeth and mouth on it, making you gasp loudly.

Everything was too much. Your pussy tightened around his fingers, thighs trembling as he brought you closer to the edge. His lips left your neck and kissed up to your jaw, then the corner of your lips, pumping into you faster until you started to spasm.

“M-manjiro I-i feel, I feel- hngh-”

You arched your back uncomfortably with a strangled cry, soaking his fingers as your vision went blinding white. Your body trembled as he fucks and kisses you through your orgasm, shaking in his grasp until you fall limp on the chair, well spent.

You’re catching your breath as his fingers slid out of your pussy, a string of your cum connecting them. Manjiro looked at his soaked fingers with interest, before popping them in his mouth and humming to himself in approval. The sight feels so wrong to look at and you can’t find the strength to look away as he licked his fingers clean of your musky taste.

You don’t say anything when he let go of your wrists and adjusted your panties so that it covered your pussy. The blonde haired man climbed back to his seat, starting up the engine of his car again.

He doesn’t say anything when you start sobbing.

   “I GOT you food.”

You didn’t respond to Manjiro, hanging your face as tears rolled down your face. It’s the position you had assumed since he climbed off your body, something he couldn’t get you out. He thought that maybe if he got you some food, maybe you’ll ease up and eat.

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

Kissing his teeth, he entered back into the driver's seat before closing the door behind him, tossing the food at the back seat. You could tell from the way he was muttering underneath his breath that he was growing more annoyed with you. “Honestly, I don’t know why the hell you’re crying. You’re still a virgin. I didn’t force myself on you.”

You didn’t know what else to expect from him. That he would even offer you a shred of apology for what he did? The way his words are so callous, lacking any form of tact in the way he’s brushing off what he just did tore you apart.

Emma had painted this man as someone who would hang the moon and stars for her. Someone she knew she could call if anything was going to happen to her, who would fight through hell and back for her safety. She had told you of how he beat up anyone that touched her wrongly and how he would try to make her forget anything unpleasant. To Emma, Mikey was her knight in shining armor, her hero.

This was a man you had loved with all your heart. Manjiro was your first ever crush, and the more good you heard about him, not just from Emma, but from other girls too, the deeper you fell for him. You had admired him from afar, your heart set onto him as you hoped to be at least close to him. Despite everything, he was the sun in which everyone revolved around, the heart throb of your dreams.

But when you turn to look at him through your teary gaze, watching him rev up his car engine with a nonchalant expression on his face, all you see is a vile soul.

You felt sick.

“I’m going to tell Emma.”

Your voice was quiet, hoarse from all the sobbing but the anger was evident. There was no way you were going to let him get away scott free. You knew that the police would be as good as useless because you’ll have no evidence by the time you manage to file a complaint. The school authorities won’t help you either as Shinichiro Sano was one of their biggest benefactors and everyone in the faculty loved Manjiro despite his tendency to be disrespectful.

But if you told Emma, you know she’ll believe you. Even if the entire world was against you and for him, you would still be able to get her to take your side and stand with you.

You’re sure name dropping his little sister would make him scared at the very least. Mikey loved her to death, she had this perfect image of her sweet older brother that he has to uphold at the very least.

Without skipping a beat, he dropped his own phone straight onto your lap before continuing to focus on the road. Eyes wide, you turned your head to Mikey to see any form of reaction, even him flinching slightly.

Nothing.

Your mouth hung open at how he just blankly stared at the road ahead of him, his grip on the steering wheel normal as he drove you back to campus. As if he’s innocent, like he didn’t force his fingers into your panties and violate you.

His nonchalance irritates you; it’s as if he doesn’t care what you say or do to him.

“What?” you questioned him, wondering where the hell he dropped his humanity? Any other person would have reacted; begging you, threatening you or even giving a flimsy apology. “-why did you drop this on my lap?”

“You wanna call her? Go ahead.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Not like you told me no when I was fingering you.”

“That’s not how it works!”

“Then how does it work?” He cuts you short, taking a right turn to park outside of your faculty building. He puts the car in park before turning to face you. “You walk up to my car to ask me if we could talk, wearing that kind of skirt that gave me access to you. When I told you to get out, you didn‘t leave. You never told me to stop and you didn’t struggle. You know what you did instead?”

“Sto-”

“Ah ah- Manjiro” he mocked you in a high pitched voice, making you cover your ears in humiliation, not wanting to hear anything from him. You wanted to throw up, ruin his car. You want the ground to swallow you whole, anything that would take him far away from you. “Ah, mmh Manjiro, mmh mhhh ah ah- you moan like a pornstar by the way. You seem like you enjoyed being treated like that.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but all you felt was bile rise up to your throat. A part of you nagged that he had a point; you never said anything that sounded like ‘stop’ or ‘no’ and how you positively responded to his touches. ‘You even orgasmed.’ A gnarly disgusting voice bubbles up in your head, in defense of Mikey. ‘It was obvious you enjoyed it. Every second of it.’

You tried to deny it. Try to block out that voice as you attempt to remember everything you were told about assault. You’re fighting a war in your head, against the intrusive voices as you picked up the phone to tell Emma. ‘She’ll believe me. She’ll believe me-’

“Face it. You’re just overreacting because you liked what we did.”

Those words were the final nail to the coffin. The phone lies in your limp hand, finger just above Emma’s line to call her. Everything that led up to this point involved your choices. To stay in his car. Not fighting harder. Never screaming no.

You let him dirty your temple.

Mikey spared you one more look, dark eyes scanning every inch of your crumpled form. He slides the device out of your hand, placing it back in the middle of his car before grasping your hand in his.

“Alright, stop crying.” he soothed in faux sympathy, thumb tracing over the back of your palm. “I’ll take you shopping and buy you new clothes, hmm? And I’ll buy you anything else you want. Okay?”

You should known better to believe him. After everything he has done to you, from consistently insulting you, to assaulting you and then making you feel guilty for giving him the opportunity to do so.

And yet, you’re nodding along, agreeing with him and letting his warmth engulf you. “Okay.” You said in a small voice, your free hand grasping the hem of your skirt tightly.

“Look at me.”

You felt another hand grasp your chin, forcing you to look at his face, dark eyes peering at your face. “I don’t like that look on your face.” You wince as his fingers tightened around your jaw, your heart hammering against your chest when he commanded you once again. “Smile.”

You don’t know what else to do. With Mikey, it’s like going to a war knowing fully well you would lose.

And so you do as you’re told. Your lips lifted at the corners forcefully and you gave your best smile. He returned it with a smile of his own, genuine to the point his eyes dilated.

“Good girl. You look so much better.”

Your mouth went dry at his statement when he withdrew from your body and unlocked the door for you. Deciding not to ponder on it, you reach for the handle to leave. You had a class in an hour’s time and you were supposed to meet up with Emma beforehand to return her laptop that you borrowed for her project.

“Wait.”

You paused in your tracks, your hand hovering above the door handle. What else does he want from you?

“Your makeup is ruined. Fix it. You don’t want to give anyone the wrong idea that I hurt you when we were just playing with each other.”

Bile rose into your mouth once again at his words, but you hold yourself from doing anything that would set him off. You only nodded in response before opening the door and exiting the car. Tears threatened to escape your eyes as you hurried off to class, your throat burning with anger as you gripped both your tote bag and the food he had gotten for you, hard. Your body shook with each step feeling the intensity of his dark eyes burning into you.

You never touched the food, throwing it in the trash bin due to your appetite eluding you, replaced with a sinking feeling of pain and humiliation into your stomach. You don’t make it to the rest of your classes either, opting to lock yourself in a toilet, a loud cry ripping from your throat into your palms as your heart breaks into tiny pieces.

How could this have happened?

Bonus Scene:

MIKEY never tore his gaze from you as you disappeared into the building. Dark eyes watched as your ass bounced in that jean skirt you had worn today, nearly reviving the boner he had prior. He had to admit, notwithstanding his absolute disgust for you, you were a sight for sore eyes - pretty, naive, inexperienced and tight. So goddamn tight.

He’s never been with an inexperienced girl before. Not even when he lost his virginity in high school. It didn’t hurt that you also had the sexiest thighs he’s ever seen either, soft and doughy underneath his touch.

You weren’t as stupid as he thought -far from it. Mikey knew your strategy; picking your battles carefully. You’re rightfully afraid of both him and Izana. You were even more afraid of losing face with Emma, the only friend you managed to make here, which is why you came to him because you felt guilty for making her mad at them.

If played right, they could have you underneath their thumb like they do with the rest of Emma’s other friends. All this was to keep an eye on their little sister in the long run, to restore the natural order and balance that was their system. Family came first, then the gang, then their friends and finally, if they cared enough, their lovers. It’s a cycle that Mikey is used to, being the center of attention in Emma’s life and sharing that space with Izana. Even Draken knew that there are times he shouldn’t intrude when the two brothers are with her.

But you had no regard for the order of things. You just tried to insert yourself into his and Izana’s circles, as if you were somebody of any importance and not just another, a little gnat.

To Mikey, you deserved to be crushed like the annoying gnat you are. Seeing you cry and tremble underneath his touch, hearing you moan and beg him like a slut made him feel good.

Mikey looked at the building again before looking at his watch. He had to attend his criminology lecture by 3pm since he had a presentation today and it was already 1:30pm, having taken out time to talk to you. The frat member he gave his presentation to edit must be waiting for him at the coffee shop.

“I might not be able to meet up with ‘Zana.” He muttered, picking up his phone to dial him up instead. Finally, after the fifth ring, his line went through, his rough voice echoing through the phone.

“Mikey? What is it?”

Mikey could hear a bit of shuffling from the other end of the phone, and a quiet “Izana” spilling from a rather feminine voice, only for Izana to bark at the girl to shut up, effectively silencing her.

“Did I catch you at the wrong time?”

“No.” He grumbled. “Do you have any updates on Emma?”

“In a way, yes. I do.”

“In a way?”

“I have a feeling you’re not going to like my plan, regardless.”

Izana sighed from the other side of the line, probably sick and tired of the constant mind games Emma was playing with them and to be fair, even he was sick of it as well. Their little sister was easy to annoy but easier to please; so for her not to be as forgiving this time was frustrating. Mikey had played every game in the book he knew to please Emma and even Izana had put in far more effort than he cared to, but nothing worked.

Unless…

“It involves her, doesn’t it?”

Mikey could hear the irritation in his brother's voice, but then again, if they wanted peace to reign and for Shinichiro not to get directly involved in this issue in your favour, they were going to have to play it the smarter way.

“Not like we have a choice. Emma’s attached to that girl by the hip. You’ll just have to trust me on this one.”

Also, it doesn't hurt to have a little fun on the side.

author's notes: reblogs, comments and asks are highly appreciated. my taglist for all my fics are wide open, so do ensure to sign up. please be very patient with me as for updates, school has started and i may not be able to be consistent, but i will try my very best to finish this story this year.

I do not consent to my works being promoted, published or translated on any site or social media without my permission.

taglist (please turn on your mentions in 'settings' before filling the form.): @officiallyjaehyuns @haikyuusboringassmanager @ilybbg @merrymerrykiss @cockonoi @Rindou24689 @short-cxke @kokoch4n3l @GenAwi @ryuguji-sana @nuyoo @getonite @anxious-chick @reiners-milkbiddies @kiwixpi @gh0stgirl333 @brisssaaa009 @fushiqruo @kawaiikoalagarden @damidamimongalam @raven-nevra

[gay-dorito-dust]

ok what if reader is also a vigilante?

reader and Jason met in their civilian identities, and after a while they start dating. but like, neither of them tells the other one about their vigilante identities? and then something random happens and they both find out in a funny way?

(alsooo can I be 🐈‍⬛? :3)

Idk if this is considered ‘funny’ but I tired, oh and Yes, you may be 🐈‍⬛ anon. 🦦

When you first met Jason in the cosy book store, you were far too concerned with keeping your stint as a vigilante as close to a secret as possible, so much so that the mere aspect of dating wasn’t something you contemplated on a day to day basis; Never less dating a civilian when you’re fighting street level thugs. However you couldn’t help but get lost in the beauty of his smile, his eyes and the way he ran his hand through his hair.

All you were aware in that moment was that Jason is just perfection in a six foot something frame. He was just that beautiful that you couldn’t find yourself looking away from him, ever; It had to be illegal to be that beautiful.

When Jason first met you in the cosy book store, trying to reach for a book that was just out of reach, he was far too concerned about the new vigilante that had taken to the street of Gotham. Nightshade was their name and they obviously had natural talent but were still sloppy in some areas, but they showed enough promise in their debut outing to be apart of the Outlaws. Dating was the last thing he needed honestly, despite affection, loyalty and love were something he deeply longer for more so then anything, however he felt a little tempted by the idea when you gave him a look of gratitude as he handed you the book was enough to set him alight.

‘Jason.’ He blurted.

‘Come again?’ You asked.

‘My name. It’s Jason.’ He clarified, internally cursing himself for making himself looking like a right idiot in front of you, but you just had that effect on him and it hadn’t even been ten minutes upon meeting you. Was he really that depraved? He asked himself as in that very moment you decided to smile at him, which gave him his answer that yes, he was indeed that depraved for a genuine connection. ‘Well it’s nice to meet you Jason. I’m y/n.’ You greeted, finding Jason absolutely endearing and insufferably cute. ‘Do you often help people with books or is it just a one time thing?’ You then asked, holding the book close to your chest, biting the inside of your cheek.

‘I don’t come here as often as I promised myself I would, so consider this as a rare occurrence.’ Jason shrugged, leaning against the shelf. ‘So do you come here often or are you a fellow procrastinator?’ You chuckled and Jason has to pat himself on the back for that one. He managed to make you laugh and god did it sound ethereal. ‘I’m kinda a fellow procrastinator but that’s because I’ve been busy with life and such.’ You told him, not wanting to admit to everything to a conventionally attractive man you’ve just met at a small, run down book store just yet; You didn’t want to fuck this up for yourself.

‘Oh yeah? Then maybe if you come here more often, I’ll have more of a reason to stop by other than the books.’ Jason said and you felt your smile even wider and tighten your grip on the book, casting your eyes to the floor. Curse this beautiful man for making you feel like a silly little schoolgirl either way a crush, it was both embarrassing as it was all consuming. ‘Sounds like you’re asking me on a date, mr Jason.’

Jason shrugs. ‘Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. I mean is it wrong for me to want to get to know you better?’

‘I guess it wouldn’t hurt.’ You admitted.

‘So it’s a date?’ Jason asked, anticipating your answer.

‘Yeah. It’s a date.’ You replied, feeling a warmth flood through your body, followed by a feeling of nervousness simultaneously it was hard to figure out which feeling you should focus on.

Several book store dates, skirting your obvious feelings for one another and moving into his apartment later, you and Jason were officially a couple: and a happy one at that. And yet despite sharing everything to one another, every deep secret you’ve ever kept in your entire life and yet the one secret neither of you chose to disclose was your vigilante identities, and for simple and justifiable reasons on both your parts; You didn’t want Jason to be brought into the crossfire as a casualty and Jason didn’t want you to get hurt because of the dangerous people he wronged as RedHood. You’ve both hated yourselves for keeping a tight lid on your vigilantism but you knew it was for the betterment of the other, after all ignorance was indeed -on some occasions- bliss.

However on this very night, everything you and Jason have ever hidden from the other had decided to come to light but not in a way that’d either of you were expecting.

You and Jason were cuddled up on the couch and enjoying a peaceful evening in together, seeing as for a week straight both of you have had your hands full with capturing and clearing the streets of Gotham of thugs, goons and drug dealers, and actually getting the golden opportunity to act like an ordinary couple and shower the other in the love and affection that you’ve both been aching for the entire week.

‘You need to get some better sleep Jaybirdie, I can see dark bags starting to form under your eyes.’ You mutter softly as you run your calloused thumbs under his eyes, naturally concerned for his health and well-being. ‘Are you saying that I’m not that appealing to look at anymore because I’m developing eye bags? How shallow of you babe.’ Jason joked as he moved his face from your hands and looking away from you with a pout on his lips.

You laughed, reaching to hold his face in your hands again and gently made him look at you. ‘Stop being dramatic my little Jay bird, I think you make eyes bags work for you but I just don’t like the idea of you staying up longer than you should.’ You said as you kissed his lips and then under his eyes, feeling him hum in content as he dragged you into him tightly. ‘I appreciate the compliment babe.’ He said as he pressed a kiss to your head, closing his eyes as he breathed you in deeply. ‘I’m sorry we haven’t had enough time with each other lately.’

You burrowed yourself deeper into him, hands clutching at his shirt. ‘it’s okay Jason and besides I should sorry too because there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while now. I hope you don’t hate me afterwards.’ You admit, scared that this might break your beautiful relationship with the sweetest man you’ve ever met, who had been nothing but unquestionably loyal to you through and through. ‘You could do no wrong pretty baby,’ Jason cooed, ‘but since we’re sharing things, I have something that I’ve been keeping from you also sweetheart.’ Jason said as he feared that he’d only be scaring you away afterwards and he can only hope that you’d stay and hear him out.

‘No, Jason you don’t-‘ you were cut off by the sound of two emergency alerts going off from your shared bedroom and before leaping off of Jason’s lap, much to his displeasure and worry, and rushed towards the bedroom with Jason hot on your heels going on about something you couldn’t quite make out over the noise of the emergency alerts. It was rare that it goes off and when it does, it’s when someone like scarecrow or Joker has made a reemergence to the public and when they do, nothin good ever comes to pass.

Within the depths of your shared closet in your bedroom were two equal sized duffel bags. Inside these duffel bags held everything to do with your vigilante personas that you and Jason had hastily shoved inside, and all before you officially moved into his apartment too. You never touched his out of respect for him and he never touched yours out of respect also, you both knew which one belong to who as they also sat just beneath your own civilians clothes, that and the fact that Jason’s duffel bag was a lot more beat up and rugged compared to yours which only had slight wears and tears; but other then that it was relatively a new bag.

Right of this moment however you didn’t stop to think about which bag you’ve picked up because before you knew it you had locked yourself within the bathroom, just about ready to change into your attire, when you were face to face with a familiar red helmet causing you to freeze in place. While you were trying to grasp the idea that your beautiful, beautiful Jason was the ruthless RedHood, a knock on the bathroom door broke you from your thoughts, and you automatically knew that Jason saw your vigilante attire and was feeling a similar sort of confusion towards you as you were about him. You placed the red helmet back into the duffle bag, zipped it shut before unlocking and opening the door wide enough for Jason to hold out your duffel bag towards you.

‘I believe this is yours sweetheart.’ He said awkwardly.

‘Thank you Jaybirdie.’ You mutter as you took the bag off of him, placing it down on the toilet seat as you picked up his duffel bag and handed it to him through the gap in the doorway. ‘I believe this belongs to you.’

‘Thank you sweetheart.’ Jason replied as he took the bag off of your hands as an uncomfortable air of silence followed as you both stood on either sides of the door, not knowing how to properly address the situation. Until… ‘I knew I recognise that ass in spandex anywhere.’

‘JASON!’ You exclaimed, face becoming flushed.

‘What? It’s true you’ve got a distinctly shaped ass! So of course I’m going to recognise it!’ Jason replied, throwing his hands up in the air.

‘So you’ve admitted to staring at my ass like a perv?’ You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

Jason pushed the bathroom door open fully to get closer to you and hold your face in his hands. ‘Don’t start acting like you haven’t stared at my ass like a perv, perv.’ He says with a chuckle upon seeing the expression upon your face, pressing kisses from your forehead and all the way down to the tip of your nose. ‘I thought you wouldn’t notice.’ You murmur softly, making Jason laugh as he lead you out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, where he then sat you down on the end of the bed and held your hand.

‘Well unfortunately for you, I do notice and I can’t say I don’t like the attention that I’d get for my charming parent.’ Jason says as he kisses the back of your hand. ‘You’re not mad that I’m a vigilante and have been keeping it from you all this time?’ You asked, running your thumb over his hand. ‘No because it would be quite hypocritical if I did because I’ve been keeping the same secret hidden from you also. Would you be mad at me being RedHood?’ Jason asked and you immeditly replied ‘no because I know you did so to keep me safe.’

‘Ans I know that you didn’t tell me for the exact same reason.’ Jason butted in. ‘Now that we know however, this just means that we’re even more of a kick ass couple because we literally kick ass every night and I couldn’t be more prouder of you baby.’ He add as he presses kisses to your face, making you chuckle before pulling away. ‘But that doesn’t mean I won’t stop worry about my baby. So expect a whole lot of team ups in the future okay chipmunk?’ You pressed a kiss to his cheek before stealing one from his lips as you stood up from the bed, tugging at his arm. ‘Why don’t we start teaming up now? RedHood and Nightshade, they’ll never see us coming by a long shot!’ You said and Jason couldn’t help but smile at your excitement as he then stood up, groaning dramatically. ‘Alright, alright, quick pulling my arm and get changed so we can go catch us some bad guys.’

You beamed brightly as you stole another kiss from his lips. ‘I love you Jaybirdie.’

‘The things I do for you buttercup.’ Jason spoke against your lips as he kisses you again.

[vbecker10]

Hi! So, I'm a bit new to your account but I loved your writing and the story's that I have read from soo, here's a request

So, Loki x fem!reader and Loki is like, mad at the reader for whatever reason and the reader like, hits her hand on something and Loki quickly turns towards her to check how she got hurt and stuff and she's like "Aww, you care about mee"

Sorry if this isn't a good description or wtvr. I'm not a writer so idrk how this goes...

Anyways, if you don't wanna write it, it's totally fine! And btw sorry for the long request. Love your writing!!💚💚

I'm Always Right

Pairing: Loki x female reader (Y/N) - established relationship

Summary: You and Loki get into an argument and he tells you to leave but when you're accident-prone-self gets hurt right after, you see how much he really cares about you.

Warnings: Arguing (I have no idea what about but it's not super important so make it whatever you want lol), mild injury, very little bit of blood, some swearing, hurt/comfort

A/N: Welcome to my page! I'm so glad you love my work so far 😊 I love this request, thank you so much for sending it! I changed how Y/N got hurt and it got a little sadder than I planned, I hope that's okay. Hope everyone enjoys it! 💚

"I'm tired of arguing with you," Loki sighs, sitting heavily on the couch in his living room.

"Then just admit you're wrong," you tell him, crossing your arms over your chest angrily.

"I'm not wrong," he argues back.

"Ugh!" you groan loudly, throwing your hands in the air.

"Well if that is your only argument," he rolls his eyes at you which he knows you hate.

"There's no point arguing with you," you tell him. "You're so stubborn, it wouldn't make a difference anyways. You never change your mind once you think you're right."

"If there is no point, then why are you still here?" Loki asks as he stands abruptly. "You know where the door is," he gestures with one hand towards the door to his apartment.

"Why am I-" you start to ask in surprise. "You want me to leave?"

"What I want is to end this argument and if you leaving will accomplish that, then so be it," he takes a seat on the couch again.

"Fine," you grab your jacket from the back of his arm chair dramatically. "If I leave, I'm not coming back," you warn him, assuming he will stop you.

He conjures a book and doesn't respond, crossing his legs as he opens it to where his bookmark is placed.

"You're an ass," you tell him, feeling your anger grow at his obvious lack of concern for you threatening to end your six month relationship.

"That's what I hear," he says without looking up from the book. You stand in his living room looking at him in silence, waiting for him to apologize or try to convince you to stay but he does neither. After a moment he turns the page and says, "I thought you were leaving."

"You were such a waste of time," you say and he looks up slowly from his book. "I can't believe everyone was right about you. I should have listened to them."

"Y/N, are you alright?" you hear Loki's voice close behind you.

You turn to leave, fighting to hold back tears when you reach his front door and open it a bit too quickly. The heavy door hits you in the nose, causing you to cry out in pain and surprise as you take a step backwards. Instinctively, you touch your nose but the pain radiates throughout your whole face.

"What the hell do you care?" you ask him, turning to face him, your anger still at the surface despite how concerned he looks.

"Your nose is bleeding," he informs you instead of answering your question.

You wipe the blood away with the back of your hand. "This just perfect," you mumble and turn away from him again.

"Let me-" he touches your shoulder lightly.

"Don't touch me. I don't need your pity," you shrug yourself free from him. "I'm leaving, just like you wanted."

He closes the half open door, "That's not what I want."

"Why would you say it then?" you ask him, wiping under your nose again as the blood drips a bit heavier.

He conjures a tissue, holding it out to you. You swipe it quickly from his hand and use it catch some of the blood. Standing there, silently looking at each other, you wait for him to answer you.

"Please, let me help you," he says.

"Fine," you agree, "But I'm still angry at you."

He nods and puts his hand on your lower back, guiding you to the kitchen. You stand next to the sink, still pinching your nose as he opens the freezer and takes out the ice cube tray. Silently, Loki comes back to you, setting the tray down then he puts his hands on your waist and easily lifts you onto the counter.

He touches your nose lightly, the pain intensifies and you flinch away from his fingers. "It doesn't appear to be broken," he says.

"Great," you tell him with as little emotion as possible. You scoot forward to jump off the counter but he remains in front of you, your knees resting against his legs.

"I am not finished taking care of you," he says, leaving you no room to make a quick escape. You watch him put ice in a clean towel and hold it to the bridge of your nose in place of the tissue you had.

"You don't need to do this," you tell him and his eyes met yours.

"Why? It's not like you still care about me," you scoff.

"I want to," Loki says in a tone you recognize but better then the one he used during your argument.

You had fallen in love with Loki's sweet, caring, protective nature and you were not used to his anger or unwillingness to compromise. It is not that you had never disagreed before, but this was the first time either of you said things deliberately to hurt the other person.

You fidget with the bracelet Loki gave you and look away trying not to make eye contact with him. "It's not your fault I can't even open a stupid door," you shake your head and he cups your cheek to keep you from moving.

Loki sighs deeply then says, "I'm sorry I made you think that because it couldn't be further from the truth." His hand holds your waist as he holds the ice for you carefully with his other hand. "I do not like when you are hurt."

He lowers his hand again, holding your waist loosely as he leans forward a bit closer to you. "I'm sorry I let that argument get so out hand," he apologizes and you lift your head slightly to look at him. "Don't tilt your head back too far," his voice is gentle as his hand moves to the back of your neck to keep you still.

He adjusts the ice slightly as it starts to melt and you feel yourself leaning into his caring touch. "If you still want to leave, I won't stop you," he says. "But I will never stop caring about you. I know I don't tell you this nearly enough, but I love you Y/N."

Your heart aches deep in your chest and without thinking you respond, "I love you too."

"I don't want to lose you," he says. "I never wanted you feel as if I was a waste of your time." You can see in Loki's eyes how badly you saying that hurt him and in the moment, that was exactly why you said it.

"You weren't," you tell him, putting your hand on his lower back. "I shouldn't have said that, I was just angry at you."

"Please don't leave," he says.

"I don't want to," you tell him honestly.

He removes the ice from your nose and runs his fingers gently over your skin, checking again that it is not broken and the bleeding has stopped. He steps away from you to throw the half melted ice cube in the sink and when he turns back towards you he seems unsure of what he should do. Loki takes a step closer and when you reach for him, he breaths a sigh of relief.

Loki stands in front of you, your legs dangle off the counter on either side of him and you pull him closer. You rest your head against his chest, careful of your nose and wrap your arms around him. Loki's arms hold you tightly and he kisses the top of your head lightly.

"I cannot apologize enough," he says quietly. "I should have just let it go, I never should have fought you so hard."

"I'm sorry I was so focused on wanting to be right, I didn't even try to listen to you," you tell him.

"Tell me you'll stay and you can be right about everything from now on," he says and you can hear the smile returning to his voice.

You can't help but smile as you nod, "I'll stay Loki." You sit back so you can look at him and he cups your cheek, his thumb moving lightly on your skin. "And I'll hold you to that."

He chuckles, "I know you will." He leans down to kiss you, his lips softly sealing his promise. "I love you, Y/N," he says with the smile you thought you might never see again.

"I love you more," you giggle a bit, testing him jokingly.

"That's not possible," he falls easily into your waiting trap. "I love you more."

You smile and shake your head, "You already forgot, I'm always right."

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚 Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

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[aphrogeneias]

don't go (sharing your devotion) — one-shot

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: eddie's jealousy was loud, just like everything else he did. or, eddie realizes he can't keep being the sole object of his best friend's attention forever and ends up screwing things up.

maybe it was about time.

word count: 2.1k

warnings: friends to lovers, jealousy (on eddie's side, he's not proud of it), light angst, unresolved sexual tension, a little bit of smut (+18), a hint of sub!eddie

author's note: was inspired to upload this to tumblr by @cursedyuta's stellar subby eddie content, and it made me remember i had this hidden. this was supposed to be two-part but i couldn't find the motivation to write any more, i'm sorry about the open ending! maybe it will gain a follow up one day, never say never <3

Eddie's jealousy was loud, just like everything else he did.

It stemmed from regret, pure and simple. Regret of not asking you out all the times you were alone with him, of not confessing his feelings, of not making you his when he had the chance. You weren't his, no matter how much he acted like you were.

As far as everyone was concerned, you were Eddie's girl. Being the only girl in The Hellfire Club — until Erica Sinclair's unexpected arrival, that was — and the only girl he was always seen with, it was easy to make that assumption, and neither of you really cared to clear those rumors. Something in his chest swelled with pride anytime someone called you his girlfriend and all you did was roll your eyes, but never tell them they were wrong.

Sometimes he wondered if you knew. You had to know, he wasn't exactly hiding.

His reputation did most of the work to keep guys away from you, but there were a few, brave ones who weren't really intimidated by Eddie "The Freak" Munson — alleged satanist, cult leader and whatever other false atrocity this town was willing to put on his shoulders. Those brave ones, the ones who asked you on dates and dared keep you from spending time with him, suffered with Eddie's relentless, petty teasing and practiced death stares.

Steve Harrington didn't seem easily intimidated by him in the slightest, though.

Eddie had all but scoffed when you told him you'd been going out with the former King of Hawkins High. It wasn’t until he saw the two of you together that reality started to sink in.

He didn't mean for things to get ugly, but the moment realized you were slipping through his fingers was an awakening he didn't think he could handle.

"What was all that about?"

Eddie shrugged, running a hand through his shaggy hair, a little humid from sweat. It was hot that night, even hotter inside the small downstairs bathroom you locked yourself with him in. Outside, the small party the drama club kids were throwing went on, voices and music being muffled by the closed door.

"I just wanted to know what Harrington was doing hanging out with low lives like us. Can't I be curious?" His voice was a bit slurred, no doubt from all the cheap beer he downed before and after Corroded Coffin's gig, fuming as he stared at you from across the room, all tangled with Steve, laughing at his jokes.

You leaned on the tiled wall, crossing your arms. He tried not to let his eyes wander lower, to the way your tits were pushed up in that halter top that left little to the imagination, but his was already running wild. "Do you hear yourself, Eddie? When you speak? Or did all that headbanging finally mess with your brain?"

"I think that would be the drugs, sweetheart."

It was a poor attempt to make you laugh, he knew. You knew it too, because your face remained impassive.

"You were curious, then. That's why you threw a fucking scene? Is that why you acted like an idiot and dragged me along with you, in front of all of those people?"

"Wouldn't be the first time." He mumbled, now unable to meet your eyes. Shame was something Eddie rarely felt, comfortable in his own skin most of the time, no matter what other people thought — but when it came to you, all he wanted to do was shield you from those same judgemental gazes, but instead, he put you right in the way of their scrutiny.

All because he couldn't stand the sight of you flirting with someone else.

"Goddamnit, Eddie! Can't you be serious for once in your life? This isn't the first time you do this shit but this time you went too far."

"I didn't like watching Harrington being all over you, okay? I didn't like knowing he's going to take advantage of you just like he does with all those other girls. Is that what you want to hear?"

He knew he was exaggerating, in fact, he knew nothing about Steve Harrington's intentions towards you, or any of the other girls he was seen around with, but none of that mattered to the ugly, jealous monster roaring in his insides.

Sighing, you close your eyes before looking right into his. "No, Eddie. That's not what I want to hear, but an apology would be nice."

The words "I'm Sorry" were stuck inside his throat, along with those three little words he struggled to say to you, as he watched you leave through the door and lose yourself amongst the crowd.

The day after your fight was spent in his trailer, nursing a bad hangover and a broken heart, both of which were his own fault, and the consequences of his reckless behavior. One of them hurt more than the other.

Eddie was sitting on the old brown couch on the trailer's porch as the sun went down on the horizon, smoking the uptenth cigarette of that cursed day when he saw Steve's burgundy BMW enter the trailer park from afar, and stop right in front of the Mayfield's trailer.

That wasn't unusual, since Steve was often checking up on the Mayfield girl, just as he did with Dustin, as far as Eddie knew. What was different this time was you on his passenger seat, looking as pretty as you did the night before. He stood up as he watched you talk, his heart clenching inside his chest when you exchanged a quick kiss before you both left the car, Steve going into the Mayfield's home and you made your way to the opposite side.

His side.

He could see it from afar, the pain in your eyes. There was rage too, lingering, somewhere in there. Your hips swayed with the determined movements of your feet, and he couldn't help but let his eyes linger on the mini skirt you were wearing — the black one, his favorite. Not that you knew it was, but every time you wore it, his mind raced with thoughts of what was hidden under that tiny piece of fabric, struggling with the soft flesh of your thick thighs.

For a moment, he thought about how might look like to you, standing shirtless on his porch, a long since extinct cigarette hanging from his fingers, wearing those same old black jeans. He wondered if you could see the dark circles under his eyes, or if his hair looked like the bird's nest it certainly felt like. Eddie felt sick, unworthy of your presence, unworthy of you. He kept wishing you would turn away, back to the golden boy who had apparently won your heart, but suddenly there you were, right in front of him.

"Will you let me in, please? We need to talk."

Not trusting his voice, he nodded, stopping out of the porch and towards the door, where you followed him to. Once you were inside, the silence between you was heavy, oppressive, until you were the one who broke it.

“You know, you can’t keep guys away from me forever.” There was a shy, almost teasing, smile behind your words.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He avoided your eyes, tracking back further into the house and in the direction of his room, knowing you would follow him. The angry stomp of your boots behind him was like music to his ears, it made his heart race into his ribcage unlike any heavy beat of bass drums.

At that moment, Eddie couldn't find anything more beautiful than you — standing in the yellow light of his room, eyes set on him, brows and lips set on a hard line, making him want to reach out and run his fingers through them to soothe your expression. You looked like an avenging angel, a goddess come to put him in his place.

There was no one else he'd rather be on his knees for.

“Yes, you do. You know exactly what I’m talking about, and the worst part is that you keep acting like nothing is happening, like… like you haven’t been doing this for years. Eddie, I’m…”, it weighed on his heart, the way you sighed deeply, stopping yourself mid-sentence, “I’m tired. I’m tired of dancing around whatever is going on here, so you’ll either spit it out and tell me what you want, or I’m gonna walk out of here and go home with Steve, because at least he’s not the one bullshitting me.”

It wasn’t often that Eddie Munson was left speechless.

Ever the wordsmith, he should have had the perfect excuse on the tip of his tongue, but instead, he has nothing. Eddie watched you with dark eyes, burning under your gaze, his mouth sewn shut. With one last look, a bullet through his already wrecked chest, you turned to leave.

"No, no, no!" Panicking as he felt you slipping through his fingers, Eddie finally reached out, running to stand between you and the door, voice rising in a whine, "Don't go with Harrington. Please, I'll do anything you want, just… stay, please?"

You hesitated a little before coming closer, neatly brushing his chest with yours, your perfume making him almost dizzy, making him close his eyes for a moment, taking you in.

"All I want is for you to tell me what you want." You insisted.

Placing his hands on his hips, the same hands that were itching to touch you, and looking up, chuckling with nervousness, he finally confessed, "I want you. Is that good enough for you, huh? Is that what you want to hear?" He caught himself repeating the same words as yesterday, only this time, he meant then. "In fact, you're all I've ever wanted. I want you so bad it's embarrassing, Y/N. It's fucking ruining me."

Eddie was met with silence, but at the same time he looked down to you, you raised your hands to rest them on his chest, spreading heat through the worn out Sabbath shirt he was wearing and into his skin. "Did it kill you to admit that?"

"No, but you are, baby."

"Consider it payback for all the years you wasted being an asshole and not realizing you could have had me this whole time."

Pushing him slightly, taking advantage of How distracted he was by your unexpected — or should they be expected? — words, you maneuvered the both of you until he felt his knees hit the edge of his bed.

"Can I still have you now?"

With a final push from your delicate hands, Eddie landed softly on the bed, lying on his back, his hair falling like a dark halo around his bed. He saw your expression soften as you climbed on top of him, straddling his hips. This time, he didn't restrain from touching you, letting his hands slide over the skin of your soft thighs, squeezing them lightly. He could feel the heat of your pussy from under the thin fabric of your panties, making him swallow back a moan. He wanted to grind against you, release a little of the tension rising in his jeans, but he kept still, waiting for your next move.

It felt like a dream, you on top of him, looking like every bit of a wet dream as well. Your hands grabbed his wrists and positioned them above his head as you lowered your face right above his flustered one.

"You see, the thing is… I don't think you deserve to have me right now, Eddie baby. You need to think about what you've done a little more, don't you think?"

A shiver ran down his spine with your words, making his body writhe under you, a wild fire spreading through him, ready to eat him alive — just like you looked like you were about to do.

"See, I'm gonna have to go and find a way to let Steve down gently, and then we're gonna talk, actually talk, about whatever this is," you motioned with your head at the two of you, "okay? No more running, no more hiding."

"No more running, no more hiding." He nodded frantically, repeating your words. Eager to get on your good side again.

"Good." You placed a sweet kiss to his forehead, a stark contrast to the torture you were putting him through. "Was that so hard?"

You had no idea.

[myosotisa]

Hiding Lately - s.h. & e.m.

Eddie Munson x Reader x Steve Harrington

‖  summary: You've been hurting and hiding. Steve and Eddie come over to check on you and offer to help.

‖  tags: hurt/comfort. depictions of depression, a depressive episode, and anxiety. suicidal ideations. she/her pronouns, no y/n, nicknames are sweetheart, baby, angel, and doll. could be read as platonic or romantic.

‖  word count: 2.1k

The knock on your apartment door had never felt more damning than it did in that moment.

A knock on the front door was always a nightmare for someone who struggled with their mental health but that was on good days. Today, a knock on the door was definitely not something you were prepared to handle.

So you ignored it. Pulled your covers even further up over your head and hoped that whoever it was would just go away.

No such luck.

You hear the muffled sound of the deadbolt turning and then the seal of the door breaking as it inches open. “Hellooooo?” Is the familiar echo out into the empty space of your place. “Anybody home?”

“She’s gotta be here, her car is out front.”

Fuck it’s both of them. Every hope you had of just hiding and Eddie leaving got thrown out the window the moment you heard Steve was with him. On their own, either might be disheartened by no response – decide they were invading your privacy and leave before venturing too far inside.

Together, encouraging each other, it’s only a matter of minutes before they knock at your bedroom door.

Your pigsty of a bedroom that is covered in dirty clothes and dishes and probably smells weird and they can’t see–

“Don’t come in,” you rasp from your bed, voice tired from disuse as you break your silence for the first time in who knows how long.

“Sweetheart, where have you been?” Steve’s voice comes through the door, obviously right outside it. “We've been calling and calling for days.”

“I… I’ve been sick.”

“Sick? Why didn’t you say something, angel? Could’ve brought you some soup or something,” Eddie adds, sounding concerned. You can clearly picture the wrinkle between his eyebrows.

Eyes closing from their stare at the ceiling, you take a deep breath to force down the sickness that is threatening to rise with every lie that leaves your mouth. “I’m contagious. Don’t want to get you sick.”

“Oh, come on. We’re big strong men, right Harrington? We can fend off a little stomach bug, no problem.”

“Super human immune system, baby,” Steve confirms, and you can hear the smile on his face. It nearly breaks your heart. “No chance you’ll give us anything. So can we come in?”

“No!”

Neither of them say a word after your quick and forceful denial, leaving it to feel like it’s echoing out around the room and grating back into your own eardrums. Just to get it to stop, you softly add, “Please don’t.”

While you’re worried it might’ve been too soft for them to hear, you’re proven wrong by Steve saying, “Then will you come out here?” It’s a soft plea, warm and velvety in its concern and compassion, and it feels like a knife in the chest. “Tell us what’s really going on?”

There’s no way to get out of this. You haven’t showered in days, you probably smell rough and look even worse. You’ve been wearing the same sweatpants and hoodie for a week. And you’re going to have to open your door and face your two closest friends like this.

If you don’t go out there, they will come in here. And that’s too much, it’s safe in here, they can’t come in here–

“Okay, okay. I’m… Just gimme a minute.”

“Take your time, we’ll go hang out on the couch,” you hear one set of footsteps away from your door after Steve’s confirmation.

“Not too long though,” Eddie teases, “I’m gonna raid your fridge and eat all of it if you don’t stop me.”

The threat means nothing as he walks away too. There’s nothing in your fridge left that’s edible.

Anxiety from them being here and wanting them to be gone is enough to get you out of bed for the first time today, picking through the remaining pile of clean clothes to find a different pair of sweatpants and a top that isn’t as marinated in body as your current set, slapping on some deodorant and changing your underwear at the same time. You do the bare minimum to make your hair look less like a greasy, horrible mess and gargle some mouthwash because it’s easier than trying to brush your teeth. This already feels like so, so much effort and you haven’t even faced them yet.

This shouldn’t be this hard. Why the fuck is being a normal human being so hard for you? What is wrong with you–

As soon as you’ve even cracked the door open, their murmuring to each other stops and they turn toward you, looking small and unsure in your doorway. Two pairs of brown eyes staring holes into you, seeing right through you, and it feels so fucking painful that you want to just slam the door shut again. They’re looking at you so softly, with so much warmth and openness. 

Because they pity you.

“What do you want?” Your voice is colder and softer than you meant it to be, not moving from your spot that blocks the view of your room from them. You could step out into the living room and close the door behind you to hide your shame, but leaving the safety of your bedroom isn’t something you’re willing to do yet.

“Your fridge is empty.” Eddie’s voice is as soft as yours but the corners of his mouth are turned down in a small frown. “The dishes in your sink have started to smell. Your trashcan and your mailbox are both overflowing.”

Shame and embarrassment presses hot behind your eyes, looking down at your feet. “If you’re just here to point out everything that’s wrong, you can get the fuck out of–”

“Sweetheart.” Steve cuts you off, not cruelly but enough to make you stop anyway. “When’s the last time you ate anything?”

Your heart drops into your stomach when he slowly stands, starting to slowly walk toward you like you’re a skittish animal. “I dunno… I’m not hungry.”

“Shit,” Eddie mutters from the couch, head falling to look at his clasped hands as he leans forward on his elbows.

“When’s the last time you showered? Left your apartment?” Steve continues, looking like his heart is breaking.

“Steve…” You whisper, a croak in your voice again while you shake your head at him. “Please, don’t… Don’t make me answer that.”

Eddie’s head raises again, drawing your attention. He looks just as heart broken as Steve. “Why didn’t you say anything, doll?”

A humorless laugh leaves you, sounding more like a choked gasp. “What the fuck was I supposed to say, huh? ‘Hey, sorry guys, I can’t even get myself to go to the fucking grocery store like a normal human being, can you help?’”

“Yeah,” he answers, sounding almost angry, shaggy hair falling off his shoulders when he nods, “for a start.”

“Eddie.” Steve looks back at him sharply, giving him a warning look that makes him soften again. When he looks back to you, still a safe few feet away, he asks, “What happened, sweetheart? What’s got you…?”

“Hurting?” Eddie offers when the other falters, pushing off his knees to stand as well.

“It’s just…” Your voice cracks, tears you haven’t been able to find in days suddenly pushing at your eyes without warning. You squeeze them closed as your breath catches to try and stop them.

What are you gonna tell them? ‘Oh everything’s so hard.’ Just tell them you’re a fucking child who can’t handle being alive? Might as well push them out the door now–

“Hey,” Steve’s soft voice interrupts your mental berating, taking another few steps closer. “It’s okay. You can tell us anything.”

“No judgement,” Eddie adds, an echo of one of the first things you said to him when the two of you met. It’s been a constant in the relationship you have with both of them. Anything any of you say – no matter how stupid, or fucked up, or wrong – no judgement. Maybe some teasing, depending on how stupid. But they’ve never judged you for anything and there is no reason for them to start now.

But this? Trusting someone, opening up to someone, letting someone in about this? The idea is terrifying.

“Everything’s just…” You trail off again, looking off and down the hallway away from them as you bring your arms up in a sort of hug for yourself. “It’s all just a lot, right now.”

“Will you…” Eddie shoves his hands into his pockets as he kicks out his boot like he’s kicking a rock. “Will you let us help you?”

You’re shaking your head before he can even finish the sentence. “I– I can’t ask you to do that.”

Steve’s fingertips brush your elbow, the first human touch you’ve had in longer than you can remember, and it has your head whipping toward him. “You’re not asking. We're offering.”

Hot tears increase the pressure in your head, now starting to pool at the bottoms of your eyes as you struggle to make eye contact with either of them.  “I don’t even know how you could help. It’s just… I can’t…”

I want to curl into a ball on the floor and wait to die–

“How about this,” Eddie walks up, moving to rest his shoulder on the wall beside the door frame you still occupy. “I’m gonna run to the store and stock up, plus grab us all something to eat on the way back.”

You open your mouth to protest but he holds up his hand, “Ah, ah, ah.” It’s enough scolding to close your lips again in a tight line before he points at Steve. “Mr. Mom here can get started on cleaning up the kitchen so it’s nice and easy to cook in. And you tell us what you want to do.”

Your teary eyes finally look back and forth between them, begging for an answer – for them to put you out of your misery for even just a moment. “I can give you a couple of options to choose from, if that would help?” Steve offers, fingertips still lightly resting on your elbow.

Door 3, door 3, door 3, every bone in my body wants to get back in bed and never get up–

Squeezing your eyes shut, both to let some of the tears fall and to push back the shame that wants to explode out of your mouth, you give him a stuttered nod of your head. “Okay. Door #1: While we do that, you go and try to take a shower.” The immediate pain must show on your face, because he quickly moves on.

“Door #2: You come out here and lay on the couch while I start to clean up. You can take a nap, or we can talk, or we can listen to music – whatever you want. And Door #3, you go back and curl up in bed and we come back to get you when Eddie has some food for us.”

A shaky breath in and out, you open your eyes to look at them. Eddie’s face is forced casual while Steve offers a small and supportive smile. You know they wouldn’t judge you if you picked Door #3 and got back into bed. If you went back to the indent you’ve most likely made from all the hours and hours spent in the same spot. But you want to try. Even if it’s just a little bit. Even if you end up back in bed right after anyway.

“If… If I pick Door #2,” Eddie’s mouth tilts up slightly and Steve’s eyebrows raise in interest, “then can I have a hug?”

“Oh angel,” Eddie presses a hand to his chest, right over his heart. “If you thought you were going to get away without a hug in any of those options, you’re sorely mistaken.”

You exhale a small laugh out of your nose, a teary smile on your face as they both step up to sandwich you between them in a tight hug. Eddie’s face presses to your ear, curly hair tickling your nose as he rests his mouth on your shoulder. Steve settles higher, resting his cheek on the side of your head as he tucks you closer to his chest. Both boys are warm, solid, and alive on either side of you – almost crushing you with the force of the embrace. But it’s the best crush you’ve ever felt, one that tells you that you’re alive and that someone cares. It makes the tears come through faster, falling down your cheeks with more force as you shudder in a breath.

Steve presses a kiss to your temple, squeezing you just a little bit tighter. “We’re here for you, sweetheart.”

Eddie’s hand fists in the back of your shirt, forcing you an inch closer. “As long as you need us. Not going anywhere.”

-

now I live in a place that feels smaller by the day four walls closing in from months spent inside them there is too much grief packed into this small place packed into this bed with unchanged sheets packed between these ribs that somehow are still unbroken and no one has ever been here not in this space, not in this bed, not between these ribs they are too full of my own grief for there to be any space

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thanks for reading. please reblog and leave a reaction if you liked it, they make my day.

[atalana]

second thing from the book of bill i wanna overanalyse! ford's journal entry right before he sent that postcard to stan (written out for ease of reading)

CONS: 1) S is an overgrown child with none of my rigorous mental training. Who knows what could happen if Cipher stepped inside Stanley's mind for even one minute... 2) What if Stanley somehow manages to destroy the portal like he destroyed my perpetual motion machine? I suppose that machine did work in it's own way... It kept me perpetually angry for thirty years! [Coded message: Have I been too harsh all along?] 3) What if he tries to rope me into his latest get-rich-quick scheme? His latest commercial was for "Stan Sauce: The Miracle Sauce that's too cool for the FDA!" 4) What if... he mocks me? What if he sees that I abandoned our family to become a recluse on the brink of madness? Could I risk admitting that I was... wrong? PROS: I have no one else.

like okay, to take this point by point

1) i keep comparing this one with "you would have seen him for the scam artist he is" in the finale. it took ford that long to come around on the idea that stan actually does have areas where he's the smarter twin. the idea that stan could be better equipped than ford to handle bill is something that never occurred to him, ford was just focused on "only the most intelligent person could beat bill and i can't so what hope does stanley have??". which is exactly how bill suckered him in the first place

2) it took me a few rereads on this one to realise what it was ford was actually afraid of? like, yes, he wants to shut down the portal, he doesn't want bill to use it. but just like with his journals, he's terrified of the idea of the portal being destroyed. it doesn't matter that it was furthering bill's plans, or that leaving all of these things intact just increases the chance of them being used for harm in the future - that's his life's work! it's his ticket to being recognised by the whole world for how great he is!

ford you are full on "fairytale king can't let go of his fortune even when it dooms the world" here. you can blame other people all you like, but the reason you got sucked through the portal (starting the chain that would eventually cause the apocalypse), is that the portal was still fully functional. like! you could have stopped all of this by just taking the portal apart. but you would never be able to rebuild it, because it was a joint effort between you bill and mcgucket, and neither one of them will ever help you again. you got addicted to the idea of the glory you would get for this, and your self esteem is rapidly dwindling the more you realise how wrong you were, so as far as you're concerned, this is all you've got. and just like your dreams of going to that college, you're scared stan will take it away from you

2.5) the fact that "have i been too harsh all along" is the part in code. because even while you're considering it, you don't want to acknowledge it. of everything you wrote here, that's the part you're ashamed of, and so you're hiding it where no one could possibly read it.

3) this is just an excuse to rag on stanley and feel better about yourself. do not pretend for even a moment like this is a genuine worry. what could stan possibly do to rope you into a scheme that would be worse than the situation you've already cooked up for yourself? it's not like you have a problem saying no to him

4) there's the meat of the issue! the shame is back! it's been motivating you your entire life, it sure ain't stopping now you've got something to legitimately be ashamed of!

but this is also the most clearheaded and honest about the whole situation we've seen ford be. it really does feel like a tipping point where it could have gone one way or the other - if the portal hadn't split them up again for another thirty years, it's possible stan might have been able to get through to him here. it wouldn't have been easy, but there was a chance

and then god that last line hits so hard, i had to stop for a moment when reading and just let that one sit with me. like you have a whole page of reasons why you don't want to involve stan in this, and you could probably come up with several more if someone asked you to. but at the end of the day, none of those objections actually matter. you know they're superficial, compared to that massive glaring truth - you have dug a hole for yourself so deep there's no way to get out of it on your own, you've pushed away absolutely everyone who could try and help you, and there's only one person who's stubborn enough and loves you enough to come anyway

[jolieblack]

Something finally came to me! (I usually can’t write to prompts to save my life.)

May Prompts 2024 by @calaisreno

May 24th: Imperfect

We've always done things the wrong way round.

We moved in together at a time when we knew no more than four or five facts about each other. Significant facts, granted, such as John being a war veteran and me having no patience with idiots, but neither of us could have claimed to have had anything even close to the full picture at the time. I sometimes wonder what would have happened if either of us had. Only on my really bad days, though.

I don’t have all that many of those any more, luckily. And when I do, I have plenty of good memories to help me pull myself up again. Take the ones of how we confessed our love to each other to a beautifully decorated room full of people in festive dress and in even more festive spirit, to much applause and cheering and well-wishing. Yes, you heard that plural right. Those are two separate memories, years apart and in two different places. I got to go first, and it wasn’t even me who was getting married at the time. That’s another thing that most couples would do differently. Coordinate it a bit better, at least.

The second time around, as a lot of you will remember well, it was John's turn to talk, and I‘d been told in no uncertain terms to keep my mouth shut and say nothing, not even to correct his grammar, till he was done. I can now attest that it is true that the groom never gets to have a say in anything at his own wedding. Someone got his late revenge there. And believe me, that doesn’t depend on whether it’s one groom or two. Yes, and I know there are still people out there even in this day and age who feel that it’s not normal to have two grooms at all. They can all go away and never show their ugly faces again where I can see them, or smell the foul breath of the bigoted filth they’re spouting. That’s not the wrong way around, that couldn’t be more right for both of us.

But we did other things the wrong way around, too. In most romantic stories, killing someone to save the person you love is usually the culmination of long mutual trust and dedication. It‘s supposed to be the crowning glory, the final sealing of a bond that has long been in the making. It’s not supposed to be the starting point. And John is usually the more patient of the two of us, but when it came to this, he could barely contain himself for 36 hours after our very first meeting before he did it. Ever heard of timing and pacing, Doctor, I hear you people wonder? And he’s supposed to be the one with the talent for good storytelling. The timing was good, though. The timing was excellent. There’s another 'what if' for you that is no fun to contemplate at all.

There is killing out of love, and - I have to say it, I can’t not, I‘d be lying by omission if I didn't - there's also dying out of love. I doubt, however, that there’s anyone out there who has ever put a more elaborate effort into pretending to die out of love than I have. As far as I‘m aware, that’s not really a romantic convention, either, and I sincerely hope I haven’t started a trend. I honestly can’t recommend it. Effort is well and good, and I dare say the execution in my case was flawless, but I can’t deny there was a certain lack of forethought as to the emotional impact on both parties concerned. Don‘t try this at home, folks.

People also usually date first, then start cohabiting, then get married, then raise children together. Please don’t ask me to define at what time in our lives exactly John and I were dating and when we weren’t yet. To this day we have never been able to agree on a definition for this mysterious activity that emphatically, according to John, for whatever reason, does not encompass two people who like each other going out together and having fun. But it is an undisputed fact that we had been raising a child together for a good while before we got married. And we have been going out together and having fun for years uncounted now. Crime scenes never fail to work that particular magic on us. Oh wait, no, that was another example I had on my list for what most other couples do differently. Hang on, do I see a certain Chief Inspector of Scotland Yard raise his hand in objection? Raising both hands, actually, showing us… what, seven fingers? Is that the number of couples working for the Metropolitan Police that you know personally who have met at crime scenes? Or are you reminding us of the number of times John and I were actually kicked off a crime scene because we were enjoying ourselves entirely too much, and were told not to come back till we could behave like adults? I could have sworn those were more than seven occasions, but I‘ll take your word for it.

Talking of raising a child together, I‘m sure Rosie will say a word or three about that herself later, but I have never understood why most of you had doubts about the practicability of that particular endeavour. Let me just tell you that a baby carrier is entirely compatible with a cashmere scarf, or didn’t you know cashmere can absorb up to a third of its own dry weight in liquid? And it got only easier from there when Rosie grew older and stopped affectionately drooling on whoever enjoyed the happy privilege of holding her and carrying her around. She hasn’t demanded being carried around in a good while now, and I don’t know what our poor old backs would say to that these days. But we were talking about happy memories, weren’t we, so there’s another. And at least in the metaphorical sense, I hope you know, Rosie, that you’ll be held and carried for as long as you want and need, as long as we both live. You were my daughter even before I was your father’s husband, and that has been one of the greatest honours bestowed on me in my life.

Because this is who we are, isn’t it, our crazy little family, where nothing is as you’d expect it to be. But we still wouldn’t have it any other way, topsy-turvy, weird, flawed and utterly imperfect, but also utterly us, unique, one of a kind. I don’t know if it was fate that threw us together, or if it really was just a whim on the part of the comfortable, corpulent, bespectacled gentleman sitting at this table over here, smirking with his trademark benevolence. But there’s a debt of gratitude to be paid there, and today is a good day to do it. In this at least, we’re doing the conventional thing, but who’s to say we’re not allowed to do that at least once in a quarter-century.

So, ladies and gentlemen, dear friends and family from far and wide, I give you: John Watson, the man of my life, the man at my side for over thirty years, and for exactly twenty-five years in the legal sense on this very day. Please raise your glasses with us to the next twenty-five. And for God’s sake stop snivelling like that, Mycroft. You’re embarrassing the whole room.

[harukamitsuki]

man. spinner and shoji were two characters that i really enjoyed and wanted to see more of... until i did get to see more of them and horikoshi stomped on my dreams...

spinner goes from being one of the best characters to being ridiculously one-dimensional. the heroes don't do jack shit, until it's revealed at the last second that they did, meaning that everything the 'bad guys' did was ultimately useless. kurogiri being in a hospital made no sense; the guy is a high-ranking villain who is far too useful to the villains to give up, he should be in a highly secure location like tartarus. shoji goes from being someone who i really enjoyed to being someone with ignorant beliefs, despite him accusing his friends of being such people.

seriously, shoji's rant on how the 'people from the city' wouldn't understand because they 'had it easy'. NEWSFLASH: discrimination happens everywhere. yes, it's a lot more rampant outside of cities, but it still exists within a city. heck, i had someone scream racial slurs at me while i was walking home, and i live in a big city. to say that someone had it easy just because you had it worse is a horrible thing to say, especially when it's coming from someone who is supposed to be empathetic.

this is not shoji's beliefs. this is horikoshi's beliefs. he could have easily had shoji say something like 'you have had it hard. that being said, people are more willing to turn to extremes outside of the city'.

also, shoji's whole 'violence to get what you want never works out!!' is wrong. i'm not saying from a moral standpoint - that's perfectly fine. but it's historically wrong. yes, there are such a thing as peaceful protests, but they have never worked out as well as those that fight violence with violence. blm riots, for example, were the thing to force the government to take a closer look at why people were rioting and do things to prevent more property damage.

another thing i found troubling was how the mutants became enraged at a person of colour, specifically black, for trying to intervene and empathise with them, screaming that he could not understand. it's supposed to imply that racism wasn't a concern after quirks emerged, as people found other things to discriminate.

which is... very idealistic. if that were something people would really do, then racism wouldn't be a thing after sexism came to light. and neither of them would exist after the lgbt or the neurodivergent. but that's not what happened.

if someone else arises that people could discriminate upon, people would just add that to the list of things to discriminate on.

horikoshi could have drawn anyone for the mutants to yell at. he chose to use a person of colour. it comes off as very tone-deaf and it was just another sign that the mini-arc would screw up.

spinner losing his mind was bad. as in bad-bad. as in, there were so many ways to write this fight, and he chose this? instead of being a battle of ideaologies, it's shoji convincing the rest to step down, then trying to beat a mind-less spinner.

it could have been one of the best fights, with shoji's belief that using violence to solve your issues will only make it worse, and spinner arguing that using violence is the only way to do it with the state of their society.

no matter who won, in that case, it would be ultimately up to the readers to decide who truly won. who had the stronger argument, who made the more sense, all that jazz...

instead, shoji yells at a bunch of people about how 'destroying property isn't good' and 'violence is never the answer', all the while using violence to subdue him.

that could have been could, if it was commented on. if there were some sort of self-awareness.

but it's not and there is none. it went from being an arc i was really looking forward to reading, to something i can no longer stand.

shoji. spinner. you were both done so dirty

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

Them finding you asleep in public

characters: Fu Xuan / Herta / Himeko / Kafka / March 7th / Natasha / Pela / Qingque / Serval / Tingyun x gn!reader (separate)

warnings: none

a/n: The urge to write a lot more than 1 or 2 paragraphs for some characters was really strong, but I managed it because I am a man of dedication, focus and sheer will… 

that and because I knew this would take far too long if I didn’t contain myself.

Also, there are some characters I still don’t know too much about, so if I got something wrong about their personalities, then I’m sorry

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Fu Xuan

Did you have no idea how stupid you looked while sleeping like this in public? If anyone else found you like this, they’d take you for a lazy bum with no shame, but luckily for you, Fu Xuan knew you well enough to know that at least the first part would be a misconception. Nevertheless you looked stupid. Stupid and a little bit cute. So stupid and a little bit cute in fact that she couldn’t stop herself from pulling out her phone and snapping a picture of you, only for the flash she forgot to turn off to wake you up, causing you to slowly look up at her while rubbing your eyes, in turn causing the Master Diviners face to heat up.

“D-Don’t fall asleep during working hours! …what am I going to do with you..?”

Herta

Sleeping people normally were none of Herta’s concern, they were neither interesting to study, nor entertaining enough to waste her precious time on them. But considering how much of a help you were with her research, it would have been rude not to spare you from the embarrassment of being seen like this by a whole lot of other people. It also helped that she was just about to start an experiment and needed a suitable guinea pig helper.

“Wakey-Wakey. How terrible to be bored enough to fall asleep even though you’re living on my space station. Lucky you! I have just the job for you”

Himeko

Himeko was a researcher first and foremost and one of the most important tasks of any respectable researcher was to observe. It was the first step towards putting together a scientific theory and thus something she was all too familiar with. So whenever she found you sound asleep on one of the astral express’ couches, she did what she did best: observe. Was it with a cup of coffee in hand or some random book she got her hands on.For whatever reason watching you sleep put her mind at ease, like watching one of those cat videos March liked to show around to the rest of the crew. To varying degrees of excitement.

“Theory: the couch is even more comfortable when tired”, Himeko stated to herself before pressing her hand against the couch, feeling it before letting out a small yawn, covering her mouth with her free hand before nodding to herself. “Theory seems possible. I’ll need to test it more often”, she spoke while slowly putting her head on the cushions, tiredness, no matter how much coffee she drank, rolling over Himeko, only for her to quickly nod off herself, her head not far from your own.

Kafka

Truth be told, Kafka would have preferred you were awake. There weren’t many things one could do with a sleeping person, but as waking you up was out of the question, other ideas quickly began swirling through her mind, until finally, her brain decided on one.

Putting on one of her favorite lipsticks, she gave you a quick peck on the cheek, making sure to leave an imprint of her lips, only to find herself unsatisfied with the results. If you were lucky you’d notice it once you went to the bathroom in the morning, by which time you would have already passed the rest of your crewmates, and while she doubted that they’d have any reaction to it, one imprint would have certainly been enough to make you embarrassed about it.

That being said, adding one or two more couldn’t hurt.

March 7th

Seeing you sleeping in such a public place like the parlor of the astral express wasn’t something March got to see every day and while the urge to take a picture of you with her camera was compelling, she knew that there had to be made preparations beforehand. Before long, March pulled out a marker before carefully drawing a silly mustache and monocle on your face, making sure not to wake you up in the process. You were probably going to figure out the culprit relatively quickly once you looked in the mirror, but as long as she got a silly photo, March didn’t really care.

And a silly photo she got.

Natasha

You were always trying your best to keep whatever child was currently bedbound inside her clinic entertained, never leaving their side until they had long fallen asleep. And while Natasha appreciated it, the sight of you and the children causing her heart to melt each time, you fell asleep while leaned against the bed more than once.

In such moments Natasha would have loved to carry you to bed, the floor being a lot colder than a blanket, but that would only wake you from your dreams, something she didn’t want to be responsible for after seeing you take such good care of others. And so all she was able to do was cover you with a blanket of your own before making a mental note to repay you the following day

Pela

While you always indulged Pela in her hobbies, her requests of painting a picture of you always fell on deaf ears, you always finding a reason or excuse for her not to, too embarrassed by the idea of being painted. So finding you asleep like this was like a godsent. Locking the room to make sure you didn’t slip away before she got her notebook and pens from her room, Pela made sure to return quickly before beginning while you were still asleep.

After all, what you didn’t know couldn’t hurt you.

Qingque

While she had been sent to find you by Fu Xuan herself, you having reportedly been sent to get something from the abandoned storage, only to not return, her boss ought to have thought twice before picking Qingque for the task of retrieving you. So when she eventually found you, having nodded off on an old couch in one of the corners of the building, the prolific slacker couldn’t help but notice how comfortable it looked. And while many would have felt ashamed for even thinking about sitting down next to you and closing their eyes for five minutes while on work, Qingque had no such inhibitions.

It didn’t sound like Fu Xuan needed you that urgently, so it wasn’t like she was going to get fired for this… probably.

Serval

When Serval found you slumped over one of the desks in her workshop, passed out from what seemed to be exhaustion as the mechanism you had tried solving these past couple of days lay next to you, not much closer to completion than it seemed yesterday, she couldn’t help but smile at your dedication to the craft, or so was the reason she would have given if she wasn’t having difficulties retaining her composure at the sight of your sleeping face

A part of her wanted to squeeze you till you popped, or at the very least displayed signs of doing so, finding what she saw in front of her as adorable as a puppy, yet she decided against as much as touching you. Neither wishing to wake you up nor to accidentally breaking one of your bones. She needed you in her audience after all.

Tingyun

If you had been Ying Juan, Tingyun’s next course of action would have been as clear as the sky on a sunny day. Snap a few pictures to sell to all kinds of Fangirls and make a quick buck. But considering you weren’t anywhere as popular and she had her qualms about the idea of anyone else getting to see you sleeping this peacefully, her conscience beat out the businesswoman inside of her.

That being said, just because she wasn’t going to let anyone else see you like this, didn’t mean she was going to let this opportunity for a nice photo slip, pulling out her phone as taking a picture in one swoop before putting it back and once again walking out of the room, making sure to close the door behind her.

[changedmyminditsnicehere]

So here it is! Only many months after my last fic, I am delighted to present, Hob and Dream make bad choices in a back office, the fic. I really hope this will mark the start of me coming back to writing a bit more after a slump! I've got ideas for keeping up this AU if people like, so please do let me know!

=======

Hob didn't normally attend these sorts of events. Scratch that. Hob had never attended one of these events before. It wouldn't even have crossed his mind if Genny hadn't suggested it at the Humanities start-of-term drinks. So what if Genny was a broke history of art student and Hob was a professor? Professor shmessor. As far as his salary was concerned, he certainly wasn't going to turn down the chance at a free glass of wine on a Thursday evening. That said wine had to be drunk in front of some incomprehensible contemporary art while surrounded by the sort of person who was very determined that they alone could comprehend it was a minor issue. Hob drank with Joyce professors, a few neo-expressionists were nothing to him.

With his spirits fortified by that thought, Hob had taken the plunge, looked up the nearest and soonest private art gallery opening in Mayfair, put on a slightly nicer suit than he normally wore and got on the tube. On arrival, Hob had realised the suit was completely unnecessary. Certainly, some of the (older) attendees were decked out in what was clearly thousands of pounds of suit, but the majority of the young crowd looked like they had taken a wrong turn through the zombie apocalypse on their way from whatever trendy bit of North London they emanated from. Ah, youth.

Still, Hob was unlikely to have fit in even if he had attempted to squeeze himself into some drainpipe leather trousers. He wasn't going to complain about seeing them on someone else. As he carefully lifted a glass of wine from the tray of a nearby waiter, nodding gratefully, Hob looked around the white-walled room, eyes passing over canvases and the crowd alike, then stopping. No, he certainly wasn't going to complain about leather trousers on anyone, especially not if some of the attendees could fill them out so well.

The figure had his back to Hob. One ebony hand gestured at a large canvas of swirling lines of black and near black and hips cocked at an angle that was doing, just, everything, for said trousers, the figure was clearly mid-sermon on the meaning of the mess to the young woman next to him. She was half to leather-trousers, half to the work, though the amusement twirling around her lips told Hob she was taking neither very seriously. If it was an art nerd's attempt at seduction, it wasn't going well. Hob snorted to himself and raised his glass, taking a sip of commiseration for all those poor undergrads who had ever tried to chat up a woman via metaphysics. 

The movement must have caught the woman’s eye. Her gaze flicked in his direction and Hob wasn’t fast enough in raising his eyes from the work of art in leather in front of him to the artworks around him. Brown eyes caught Hob’s and the woman’s amusement sparkled into an outright wicked smirk. Utterly careless that her companion was still mid-homily, the young woman reached out, grabbed him by the arm and dragged them both towards Hob. The crowd, previously stifling, seemed to flow apart like the Red Sea in her path. Hob found himself rooted to the spot as she held eye contact, unable to mingle off into the crowd as he had hoped.

By comparison, her companion had clearly not caught up with their new direction yet. Barely facing the right way, they were following with all the grace and hangdog expressions of a particularly put-upon wolfhound. Yet Hob was hardly going to complain about the opportunity to see said expression. If the view from the back had been good, then oh boy, the front was something else. Pale pale skin, with high cheekbones, wild dark hair and a nose meant for looking down on people, the man was a vision in black and anger. Somehow, Hob knew he was the artist behind the baffling canvases on show tonight. He also knew he really wanted to know what the artist looked like after Hob had licked away the anger currently curling those rose-bud lips. 

Unfortunately, imagining licking this beautiful vampire of a man, on his face or elsewhere, was hardly conducive to making the best first impression. As the woman pulled up directly in front of him, smirking delightedly up, Hob floundered desperately for an opening statement that wasn’t going to leave him wearing his drink.

"Hello?" There. That was a good start.

"Hello there yourself. I saw you standing over here admiring my brother's work and I just had to bring him over to say hello." Her brother clearly didn't agree if the way those dark eyes were currently flinting up at Hob was anything to go by. “I’m Morana, this is Dream.” Morana had a beautiful, chocolatey voice which she was absolutely using to encourage Hob into joining her in her mischief.

“Hob, Hob Gadling. It’s lovely to meet you.” Hob congratulated himself for managing a whole sentence and a completely unawkward tip of his wine glass towards the pair. Dream did not seem like he would appreciate the offer of a handshake, even if Hob’s palms hadn’t already felt sweaty enough he was worried about losing grip on his drink.

"It's just so hard to extract Dream from his studio,” Morana declared, a theatricality which could only be achieved by older siblings very much tinging her words. “I think it is important he talk to people who show an interest in his art whenever we manage it, don't you?" She was in no way even attempting to hide her awareness that Hob’s interests might lie elsewhere than Dream’s art, or her apparent delight in the fact. Dream, by comparison, was clearly trying to pretend that he was not party to their conversation at all. Well, Hob thought, two can play at that game.

"Oh, what can I say?" He smirked right back. "I've always found myself partial to the colour black."

"Perfect! Dream's all about black at the moment."

Dream, beautiful creature that he was, was not, it turned out, very good at tuning out inanities when directed at his work. With a derisive snort, he shifted his gaze from the mysteries of the universe to Hob and Morana.

“As I was just telling you, sister, the whole point of these works is that they are not actually black…”

“They are infinite colours, infinite varieties, I know dear brother. I wrote your catalogue essay. How about you explain it all to Hob here?” Her eyes positively gleamed. “I’m sure he’d love to hear all about your work. In fact, why don’t I leave you two to it? I’m going to go see if anyone here might have something more drinkable than this.” With a wave of a warm white wine glass, Morana disappeared smoothly into the crowd. 

Hob turned fully to Dream, ready to commence operation seduce-the-moody-goth-artist, despite having absolutely no idea what to say. Luckily, against all his expectations, Dream, appeared to be willing to talk to a complete stranger, if only about his work. 

“It is as my sister says. None of the pigments I used in this series are truly black, or anywhere close. If you look carefully, you can see.” Hob feels as faint as a Victorian maiden when Dream actually takes his wrist, long fingers delicately wrapping around his sleeve to pull him closer to the nearest canvas to demonstrate. “This series, this work, is about exploring the depths that can be found everywhere, if only one takes the slightest moment to actually look for them. It is not my fault that people so rarely take that moment to actually look at anything beyond their immediate impression.” 

Dream pauses, apparently socially aware enough to realise that a rant about human failings probably isn’t the best way to talk to someone that, for all he knows, could be a paying customer - not that Hob’s suit, or his shoes, make any promises about his ability to buy these works - the ‘price on request’ written on the exhibit list had confirmed that to him. But Hob was enamoured. Up close he can really see what Dream means, can see where the seemingly black canvas actually reveals itself as the deepest blues, purples, even greens glittering across the surface.

“Beautiful” he breathes. “Practically a playground, isn’t it?” He feels Dream freeze, the fingers still (still) clasping his shirt sleeve suddenly tensing, and he curses himself. What a way to stick his foot in it. Well done Hobsie. There’s negging and then there’s telling a man who works as an artist that his life’s work is just playing around. Bollocks.

But Dream, though stiff, doesn’t drop his wrist. If anything, he grips more tightly, fingers edging up, closer to bare skin. His eyes fly from the canvas to meet Hob’s. If Hob had felt like a Victorian maiden before, the sudden realisation that he could absolutely get off just from looking into Dream’s eyes and a touch to his bare wrist finished him off.

“You.” Add Dream’s breathy, breathless voice to the mix and Hob is off to heaven as well. Shame he absolutely wrecked his chance. “You would be the first person to say such a thing about my work.” Oh. Oh. Not a mouth-meet-foot moment. It may in fact precipitate a mouth-meet-something-quite-different moment Hob realised, staring into Dream’s darkening eyes.

“Really?”

“Mmm.” Dream was turned fully to Hob now. Hob realised how close they had become, a private moment in the middle of the ebb and flow of the art crowd in their corner. “People often see what they assume to be true. In me, as well as my art.”

“Too into the tortured artist ideal to see what’s underneath?” Hob quirked an eyebrow.

“Too enamoured of their assumptions to appreciate the potential for… personal enjoyment as well.” Hob had to take a conscious breath and loosen his fingers on his wine glass one by one. He debated just how inappropriate it would be to invite an artist to ditch their own exhibition opening for a shag right now or if he should wait around until the end of the opening, whenever that might be. They always said 9, but Dream’s crowd did not give off the atmosphere of a people who might allow an event to end before 3am. 

He was about to open his mouth to make the suggestion anyway when the crowd swelled once more, and Dream stumbled into him. In his loosened grip his wine immediately went everywhere, if everywhere was almost exclusively down his own front. Thank fuck it was white wine. Hob would not have coped with red wine stains on his singular dry-clean only shirt. 

“Oh dear.” He was barely surprised at how sorry Dream did not sound. “Let me take you to the office, I am sure there are towels back there. Maybe you can borrow one of my shirts.”

Hob was not convinced that a high end art gallery office space would stock towels, and much less convinced that he would fit into any Dream might wear. He was, however, not going to object as Dream used his grip on his wrist to weave through the crowd, utterly ignoring the various socialites waving tissues in a vain hope to catch the attention of the star artist. Looking past them too, Hob caught sight of Morena. His attempt to convey ‘sorry there’s been an unfortunate accident but I promise I will return your artist shortly and not get up to nefarious things with him in an absolutely not sound-proofed back office’ via eyebrows was swiftly and gleefully undermined by the salute she gave him with, what Hob couldn’t help but notice, was definitely a much nicer glass of wine than any of the other attendees.

He had little time to do much more than salute back before Dream was pushing him through a small door into a surprisingly large office space. As Hob stepped into the space, Dream leant back against the door, pushing it shut. The burble of the crowd through the walls didn’t entirely cover the sound of a lock clicking emphatically into place. “Just in case anyone tries to barge in.” Dream said, looking up at Hob like the picture of innocence through his eyelashes. “You know how people are at these things, always trying to get in places they shouldn’t.” Hob snorted. Dream stepped away from the door, walking towards a kitchenette on the far side of the room.

“And are we somewhere we shouldn’t be? I wouldn’t want to keep you from your adoring public after all.” Dream paused his rummage through the cupboards. From what Hob could see, those things had clearly never stocked anything more than empty coffee mugs and instant powder, and certainly didn’t currently contain anything as useful as a tea towel. 

“My sister runs this gallery. She organised this event. She can handle the crowd.” The lack of tea towels was swiftly going down as a problem in Hob’s estimation. The gap between Dream’s shirt and his leather trousers as he reached up into the cupboards however…

“Good to know,” Hob walked to Dream, stopping close enough that he wouldn’t be able to turn without brushing against Hob. “Any luck on the towels?” Dream’s huff is so clearly part amusement, part attraction, Hob can’t help but be flattered. Then Dream turns, carefully sliding his hips against Hob’s crotch and Hob feels his own breath being punched out of his lungs. Dream leans back, head tilted and a challenge clear in his sparkling eyes.

“No luck, tragically. You are going to have to take your shirt off. We can put it on the radiator to dry.” 

“And whatever shall I do, while I wait for it to dry? I’m not sure I can pull off the suit jacket without a shirt look. Certainly not as well as you could.” A rosy blush rises to Dream’s cheeks, but his face looks no less hungry.

“Oh, I don’t know, Hob Gadling. I think you could certainly give it a go. You might just become someone’s next muse.”

Hob can’t help it, as he looks at Dream’s smug face, at his beautiful rosy lips twitching like the cat who got the cream. He huffs out a laugh and leans forwards, hands coming to frame Dream’s bony hips and presses his lips to Dream’s.

[atarathegreat]

You're Lucky You're Pretty. Kyle "Gaz" Garrick.

"There you are, luv!" Gaz dropped his bag to scoop you up, "Been waitin' for ya'."

You hugged him tightly, smiling and giggling in your joy that he was finally home, "Sorry, my car took forever to start."

The noise of the airport faded away as you told him all about the issues your car was giving you the last few weeks. Between funny sounds and overheating, you had no idea what the main problem was, and you were too anxious to take it to a shop. Nothing new, really. Besides, Gaz wouldn't trust any of the nearby shops with a plastic tricycle. So, he decided he would look at it the minute he got a chance to. After getting home and having a decent meal and a nice nap. He was damn tired of MRE's.

You explained a little more about the car as you drove it, pointing out the sounds and smells that the car was giving off. It was all a little concerning, and Gaz didn't relax at all as you drove.

"It's great to be home." Gaz stretched as he stepped out of the car. He glanced around the yard. It was well kept since he taught you to use the push mower, and you got better every time. On the far end lied the bird feeders where the two of you spent most of the time outdoors, if you were lucky then Gaz would let you try and feed the birds from your hands instead of going on about diseases. "It's great to have you home. Everything gets a lot lonelier when you're deployed. Even Max gets sadder."

Max, a name you expected to be accompanied by some slobbery mutt running into the room, not a sugar glider that dive bombed them both from the ceiling fans. Gaz groaned inwardly, "Goodness. Should I protect my ears?"

"Yes."

The fat sugar glider that you had adopted made a bad habit of biting ears when he was angry at anyone. The spoiled rat with wings tortured Gaz all because he had to be absent for his job. You tried to find the little creature, arm raised as you walked around the ceiling fans and high spots. It was ridiculous that he had to walk around with his hands over his ears, reminiscent of a child not wanting to hear their siblings.

You giggled and snatched something from the air, "There you are, silly boy." Narrowly. You narrowly kept Gaz from being jump scared by a flying hamster. He hated that damn thing, but he loved it, too. It was adorable and, in his humble opinion, you coddled it too bloody much, but he loved it. Max perched on your fingers and chittered angrily at Gaz as if to complain of his absence. It wasn't a huge issue, Gaz couldn't understand the creature anyway.

The quant little house was perfectly enough for the two of you and Max. One bedroom, one bathroom, an office, and the basement where the laundry room was stationed. Neither of you felt the need to spend more money than needed, and you didn't exactly need a lot. By his current rank in the military, Gaz could've had a penthouse and two tesla cars, but it wasn't something he needed.

That's what he thought anyway.

"What the fuck?" Greasy hands twisted at caps and pulled on wires. Why was your car sounding funny? Everything he'd witnessed had a cause, but nothing seemed wrong. Not even the battery was rusty.

Oh...

Of course...

Gaz walked into your shared bedroom, cleaning his hands off with a cloth. He took a moment to look at your lips and nose, your hair, and the way you did your makeup. "Luv?" Gaz sat at your feet, careful not to get dirt or grease on the bed from his hands, "When was the last time you changed your oil?"

From the look you gave him, he had his answer.

"Did you even know you had to change the oil?"

"... no..."

[ad1thi]

stevetony recs you won't see on other rec lists

I've (surprisingly) been reading a lot of stevetony lately, and have come across a couple of gems that i feel are vastly under-appreciated, and wanted to show them some love. Obviously, the title is a misnomer because maybe you have seen these on other rec lists, but it's clickbait okay !! Don't forget to leave kudos and comments, if you like what you've read !!

No Trait As Much As This : @kandisheek-art

Tony gets hit with truth serum. It's a terrible time for everyone.

the year you were mine : @areiton

The night that changes his life forever, Steve is on a date with another man. Or: Steve is a pricy escort and Tony buys him for a year. Neither of them are doing this for love.

Meant : @ardett

What Steve meant when he asked out Tony was very different than what Tony meant when he said yes.

One Last Second Chance : @/Muccamukk

Tony Stark, second newest engineer at Rhodes Labs International, is just trying to rebuild from the ruins of his failed company, vanished fortune, and struggles with alcoholism. His goals include keeping his head down, avoiding stress and convincing Dr. Rhodes to let him build a really cool robot, so why does the universe keep throwing Avengers in his path?

Not just a river in Egypt (Tony is most certainly not in denial) : @lilgideon

"You are most definitely not in love with me, Cap, what you are experiencing is called cabin pressure," Tony explains, because he has a rational train of thought and he's met enough shrinks to have figured out their tactics by now. "And possibly, you know, sexual frustration, because it doesn't matter at all that you're, like, America's national icon, Fury still won't let you out. I know that, I see that, I acknowledge your pain, I feel with you, Cap, believe me, I do. And I get it, because I am a very good-looking fellow and we spend a lot of time together, stuck in this tower, and it's easy to--" "I am," Steve cuts off, equal parts amused and frustrated and concerned. "In love. With you. Tony, I'm in love with you."

then sirens, then bells (the broadcast remix) : @isozyme

“I tire of this,” Amora says, and with a casual gesture the entire team is pinned in place, frozen in mid-air. Steve has the unsettling, half-familiar feeling of someone rifling through his head like it’s a card catalogue. A mind-reader as well as a witch, then. A female voice whispers into his mind’s ear. It’s very tragic in here, dearheart, but I think your armored friend is, somehow, more psychically toxic than even you. What’s wrong with Tony? Steve thinks, but the presence is gone, leaving his memories of war stirred up like flying insects rising off a lake in at dawn.

The Enchantress opens Tony's mind to anyone and everyone near him. Steve knows he should let Tony keep his secrets, but he's not noble enough to stay away

The Twice-Told Tale : @arysteia

For someone he'd hero-worshipped for so long, Steve Rogers in the flesh is a pretty big disappointment. For one thing, he keeps looking at Tony as though he reminds him of someone else, and even if he never says anything, Tony's pretty sure it's his father. A lifetime of not measuring up to Howard's expectations is more than enough, thank you very much, and he's certainly not going to make an effort to live up to any of Steve's. Steve's pretty clearly failed to live up to his expectations, in any case, and that's not hypocritical at all.

i'm going too far (just to have you near) : @/zaynerpaner

“Rhodey, why did you leave me here?” Tony demands. The voice on the other line doesn't sound exactly like Rhodey’s – in fact, it sounds like he’d woken somebody up, which couldn’t be right since Rhodey had been here with him earlier. “Who is this?” the voice speaks again, and – it’s too deep. Rhodey’s voice isn’t that deep. “Rhodey? It’s Tony, m’phone’s dead and I need you to pick me up,” he tries again, frowning as he leans against the bar. “Uh, I think you have the wrong number.” OR the one where Tony drunk calls the wrong number looking for a ride home from the bar, and Steve comes to pick him up.

Living In The Future : @/Closer

Eighteen-year-old Tony Stark is the boy genius who woke Captain America, and now he's stuck with him. That's not a bad thing, but between Steve's wide-eyed wonder at the new world and Tony's little fanboy crush, the awkwardness just keeps happening.

if we ever meet again : @/anonymous

"It’s been two months," Steve says, voice low. "Rhodey- Colonel. It’s been two months.”

[kiyosamu]

Dewy grass & cigarettes.

———♡———

Pairing: Rintaro Suna x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort. Past arguments & resolving them. Long term friendship, playful banter.

Synopsis: Suna finds you partying right after the two of you just had a friendship ending argument.

———♡———

The music booms through the house, vibrating against the wall behind you. You close your eyes and focus on each beat. It’s almost like it lines up with your heartbeat, and you feel it through your body. You grin to yourself, leaning back into the wall and sighing.

“You good?” Suna’s voice startles you and you glare at him with a bloodshot gaze.

“Clearly not.” Suna scoffs, crouching lower and looking into your eyes. “You’re fucked up on something. What’d you take?”

“None of your business.” You mumble, shooing him away. It really wasn’t any of his business. You’d pretty much parted ways in every fashion a few days prior. He had no right to express any concern over your actions anymore.

“Why? Because I told you the truth?” He rolls his eyes and you can practically feel the cruel condescension in his tone. “Get over it.”

“Why are you coming up to me just to be rude?” You look away, but his hand gently takes your chin, turning you back to face him.

“If honesty is rude, so be it.” Suna’s stern expression remains as he continues. “Why are you even here? This party is moronic and packed full of complete idiots.”

“So you think I’m a moronic idiot?” You ask and cross your arms.

“Well, yeah. Everyone here is.”

Your blood starts to boil and all maturity flies out the window. “Yet here you are. So you’re an idiot too.”

“Mm, fair point. Though, if I hadn't come, you'd probably be partying your life away and not even have thought about me or how to fix our broken friendship.” Suna responds with an irritating amount of maturity in his tone.

“And how can I do that, hm? You pretty much told me to get lost, so why would I be moping around alone when I can find new friends?” You start to yell - and whether it’s the drugs, your feelings, or the smoke in the air, your eyes are starting to water.

“Let me remind you, then. I asked you not to tell me all of your problems because I'm not capable of handling your emotional burden. I'm not your therapist, and I couldn’t be if I tried. I'm your friend. Yet you still try to tell me everything.” Suna sighs, looking away for a moment. “I know, you have no one else. And neither do I, so I put up with it. But you're getting mad at me for caring too much for you, and then get mad when I don't care enough. Make up your damn mind.”

Says the guy who was constantly begging for you to tell him what’s wrong, even though you insisted that you were okay.

“Fuck off, Rin.” You mutter.

“That’s it?” Suna laughs, “I say one thing that upsets you and I just get ‘fuck off, Rintaro’ in response? Typical you.”

You start to turn around and walk away.

“You're acting like a petulant child. You've been doing shit like this to me so much that I'm not even surprised anymore.” Suna continues with his brutal honesty, yet follows you as you walk outside.

A few minutes after you’ve cooled off, you lay back in the dewy midnight grass. The sounds of the house party fade in the back of your mind as you try to find the headspace you were in before such a rude interruption.

“Hey.” The grass squishes down next to you as you feel a familiar presence sit his rude ass down. “Look. I'm sorry. I went a bit too far. I get frustrated, though, when you just blow up at me when I try to help you with your problems. I still want to care for you and make sure you're doing fine. Is that wrong?”

“You are so fucking confusing. You want me to tell you my problems, then when I do, you get all weird and say that you’re not my therapist and don’t want to absorb my emotional trauma or whatever.” You groan, “Which is it?!”

“I don’t know. I said I’m sorry, okay? We’re both a bit fucked up, I guess. I want to help you. And then when you tell me what’s up, it reminds me of some of my own shit and then I realize I can’t really handle it all at once.” Suna runs his hand through his hair, “Does that make sense?”

“No. But you are right. We are both fucked up.” You sigh, “Me, especially. I don’t know what I even took tonight but I’m high as shit.”

Suna snorts with laughter. “Wanna go back inside?”

“Hell no.” You grin, “I kinda wanna just stay in this grass. I could fall asleep here.”

“We’re leaving, then. I’ll take you home. There’s no way in hell I’m gonna let you melt away into this nasty grass. It might feel good, but you don’t see what I’m seeing. It’s a graveyard of beer cans and cigarette butts surrounding you.” He smirks, “Probably a bunch of spiders, too.”

You jolt up at the mention of spiders and Suna helps you stand, smiling as he looks down at you.

“Why are you taking me home?” You ask as the two of you make his way to his car.

“It’s what friends do.” He raises an eyebrow, “They make sure they get home safely.”

“Oh, so we’re friends again?” You huff.

“No, I absolutely hate you.” Suna chuckles softly. “Of course we're friends, dummy. You really are fucked out of your mind if you thought otherwise.”

You get into his car and buckle up. “I’m pretty sure I thought that because I declared our friendship over after our argument. And then you called me an idiotic moron.”

“Yeah, you are an idiotic moron. You're my little idiot, though, so I'll still take care of you.” Suna smirks at you and turns his head to the road as he shifts his car into drive. “Your declaration means nothing. Our friendship will be over when I decide that, and that will never happen. So get used to me. I’m not going anywhere.”

[leggerefiore]

I understand if this is too triggering so you don’t want to touch it, but I have a somewhat cathartic request. Did any of the kids take longer to conceive than their parents hoped/planned? If so, how did they deal with the feelings that came with it?

cw: mentions of pregnancy and infertility, struggles conceiving

characters: Ingo, Volo

▲Ingo▼

● Admittedly, Ingo's son was not an instant success in coming to be. He truly held many ideals. Far too many. He would admit that he was horribly concerned about various things when many attempts went by without bearing fruit, so to speak. Was there something wrong with him? Infertility hung in the back of his mind, but he was far too terrified to even say the word until he absolutely had to. In that case, he knew adoption was an option, yet he desperately wished to experience every step of the way with his partner. He was careful in tracking various things and eating foods and vitamins meant to aid in the act of conception. His breaks at work were spent reading articles after articles related to conception. Truly, he definitely seems like he is going mad.

● His feelings are both sad and determined. He realises quickly that his expectations for it to be simple and easy were not something that anyone should hold. Hurt eats at his heart, which would only be worsened if the situation also saddens his partner. It stings to know that both of them shared these strong feelings. Yet, his nature as a responsible person refuses to let him ruminate on these sorts of things. As stated before, he turns in his energy into looking for solutions and aids in changing this. It was not the end of the world should there be failure to conceive. There were various options to explore aside from the most common way – neither of you were failures or lesser people for this. It was simply a commonality in the world that no one really openly discussed.

● Though, he is in literal tears when his partner shows him a positive pregnancy test. All his hard work… He squeezes them into a tight hug and shouts a loud “bravo.” His joy in unable to be held back. He will quite literally do anything for his partner now. (Not that he would not have before.)

📜Volo💫

⭐️ To Volo's endless frustration and blaming of being in Arceus's ire and shadow, his child seemingly is denied to him. Now, seeing as the time period is the 1800s, Volo does not exactly have the extensive knowledge of fertility that someone of the modern era could obtain, so he absolutely assumes that Arceus denies him this simple wish. To him, a child is a necessity. His bloodline is deeply important to him – He refuses to allow the ancient Sinnoh people to end with him and Cogita. Yet, a certain deity seems keen to make that a reality despite his endless efforts in trying to change that. He ends up consulting Cogita to find answers about what he should do – There was little else who he could turn, and he trusted her most of all in this world.

⭐️ Mostly, he feels spite and angry. Volo's cruel side really gets fully exposed when it comes to anything he is desperate about, and this is, unfortunately, something that he was desperate for. He berates himself while pondering truly if there is something wrong with him to bring about this situation. Then, he will turn towards his partner and wonder if it is them before realising that Arceus's chosen likely would not be stricken with such an affliction. He turns fully into any action or belief or myth that may absolve this situation. Pleading to Landorus and Enamorus for some kind of blessing – Perhaps even daring to scream for Arceus to do something. Honestly, he is not exactly the most stable and capable of handling this. His partner will have to help comfort him while getting little in return for their own feelings about this.

⭐️ But, in the end, whatever deity had heard his plea gave a reply in the form of an obvious swelling of his partner. All his desperation and heartache are finally vanquished. His attention then shifts in maintaining this precocious thing – food, comfort, and safety being deeply ingrained in his mind. He is ready to do anything to make sure this happens – Truly anything.

[perpetuallyconfused10]

could you maybe write something where hotch and the reader are the only two awake on the jet after a long case, neither of them plan on sleeping so they sit at the back away from everyone and reader is listening to music whilst hotch does paperwork but after a little while he asks what she’s listening to and they end up listening to music together? i really love your writing, the way you write for the reader is incredibly good.

I'm so sorry it's been so long! Full disclosure, this is very different than what you sent in (aka I wasn't feeling cool and mysterious enough to figure out the right music to use) so this is what we have - thank you so much for your request! I hope this did it some form of justice &lt;3 Content Warnings: Mild discussion of injury/Canon-typical violence (non-graphic), Reader is self-blaming, Written quickly and not proofread, Chess References, Aaron Hotchner quotes Kung Fu Panda WC: 1.2k

A Game of Trust

Footsteps sound from down the aisle. You don’t look up until they’ve stopped, right next to you, and Hotch slides into the seat next to yours. Offering him a weak smile, you bow your head and return your attention to the newspaper in your hands. 

He doesn’t accept your ignorance as a valid form of dismissal. 

“Are you alright?” he says. His voice is low, likely so he won’t wake the team. Even so, there’s a wariness to his expression. He’s approaching you like he would a caged animal, poised to strike at any intrusion of its engineered peace. 

Maybe he isn’t wrong. You don’t feel quite as far away from snapping as you usually do. 

You nod. “I’m fine, Hotch. Just tired.”

When you bow your head again, the black-and-white symbols on the page blurring just a little, he gently takes the paper from your hands and sets it on the table in front of you both. Even if you were fine before, you aren’t now. 

“Hey–” you say, shifting in your seat to glare at him. He’s as composed as usual, his head tilted to one side as he stares you down. As much as you want to stay angry with him, the concern you think you spot in his eyes foils that plan for you. 

“I think everyone on this team, and probably off of it, knows that ‘I’m fine’ never means ‘I’m fine’,” he pauses. You watch his eyes flicker towards the newspaper on the table and the frown that tugs at his mouth when he spots the unfinished chess problem you’ve been pretending to work on. “Reid’s okay, you know. He is.” 

You follow his line of sight, stubborn enough to try to work on it from a distance. Three pawns, two kings, a rook and a bishop. That’s all there is to it. It’s simple enough, but without Reid’s murmured commentary in your ear, you can’t think your way through it. But Spencer isn’t here. He’s one week into a mandatory leave of six, so you’ll have to solve the problem yourself. 

And you try. If you move the rook to the seventh rank…but that doesn’t work, black’s bishop takes.

Hotch isn’t pleased. He flips the paper over so you’re forced to look up at him. You bought it from the small town the team just closed a case in, as your tradition demands, and you’ve forgotten to rip off the headline. It’s a blaring reminder of the violence you’ve seen over the past five days. 

You scoff. “He’s not alright. He took a bullet to the shoulder, Hotch–”

“–Instead of you,” he says, and doesn’t back down when your eyes narrow at him. “That’s the issue, isn’t it? That he went in first? That he got hurt, and not you?”

Your breath hitches, and the frown you’ve levelled at him softens ever so slightly. Patient as ever, Hotch watches you, scans your face whilst he waits for your answer. 

It pours out of you in a hapless string of words you’re surprised he can understand. “He shouldn’t have. We should never have split up. I should’ve called for backup–”

Hotch’s voice is soft, but firm. “There was no time for backup. You know that.”

You hate to admit it, but he’s right. It’s been nine days since Reid’s been stuck at home recovering. In those nine days, you’ve visited his apartment with home-cooked meals, watched God knows how many episodes of Doctor Who, and called him every evening you’ve been away on this case. In those nine days, you’ve reconstructed – down to the millisecond – the crack of the gunshot, then Reid’s collapse; the unsub’s, then the warmth of Spencer’s blood staining your hands as you pressed down on his wound.

Hotch is right. There’d been no time to wait for help once the two of you had realised the man you were set to interview was the unsub you’d been searching for, no time when you knew a young girl’s life was at risk. But that knowledge doesn’t make the whole affair sting any less.

“This job is all about calculation,” says Hotch. His eyes trace your face, refusing to let you sink into self-blaming territory. “It’s about decision-making when there’s no time for it. It’s about guessing at the odds and acting on that instinct. Reid knows that better than anyone. That’s why he’s still alive. It’s why you’re here, too, with this team.”

You make no response. Sighing, he takes the newspaper and sets it down between the two of you, then reaches for the pen you left on it. The unfinished puzzle stares at you from the back page. 

Though far from your usual self, you can’t resist teasing him just a little. “Thanks, Master Oogway.”

His returning expression is one reserved for the worst of the police chiefs you encounter as a unit, but you swear you see his shoulders sag as much as his rigid posture allows, and his eyes are soft. 

“You are too concerned with what was and what will be,” he quotes, deadpan. From the moment the words pass his lips, you know he regrets it. Then, raising an eyebrow, he hands you the pen and stares down at the page in your laps. 

Minutes pass without a word spoken by either of you. With a tentative smile threatening to form on your face, you look up at Hotch. “Do you even play chess?”

“Sometimes, with Jack,” he tells you. “Reid wasn’t Gideon’s only student. Someone had to be the guinea pig.”

“Guinea pig?”

Hotch hums. “He got bored, in the end.”

You laugh, and within another half hour, the two of you manage it. It’s far from the five or ten minutes Reid waits before explaining the solution to you, hands flailing as he does, but you’re almost glad for the change. That’s a tradition reserved for the two of you; one on hold, but not finished with. 

Rook to the sixth rank, black’s pawn takes. White’s pawn to b7, checkmate.

It’s really that simple. Embarrassingly so. When you finally figure it out, Hotch drags a hand down his face, huffs out a laugh. Something warm builds in your chest that you decide not to question.

You’re not exactly happy, not without your closest friend next to you and rattling off every aviation statistic he knows. But you are somewhat reassured, and you’ve a completed chess puzzle to take to his apartment and gloat over when you next see him.

There’s movement in the seat next to you, and you have to suppress a frown when Hotch gets up and walks back towards the front of the plane. It’s the most he’s moved in an hour. You see him grab a few files from the briefcase on the couch, and then he’s back in his prior position with a pen in hand and a concentrated frown set in place. 

You aren’t sure how much time passes, but it’s wordless and comfortable, spent on your end with your head resting against the jet’s window.

The periodic scribble of Hotch’s pen eventually pulls you towards sleep. Before you’re all the way there, you register the distant rustle of fabric. When you wake a few hours later, it’s with a jacket tucked around your shoulders, and your head nestled in the crook of your boss’ neck. 

sorry for disappearing for two months! if you sent something to my inbox and I haven't written it, I'm very sorry! It's definitely not a lack of interest on my part, but more time constraints and a limit on how often I end up writing - please feel free to send a request/thoughts my way - even if I can't get around to them, I love reading them :) if you want them written especially soon though, I might not be your best bet!!