#but feel free to prove me wrong id love to hear your thoughts

[kimeoshi]

hey guys might i introduce you to rattore (wip)

[amtrak12]

Okay Rule #1: Doctor Who's canon is not set in stone. It's a choose-your-own-adventure game where you're free to change your mind at any second and twice on Tuesday.

Rule #2: you don't need canon to support your fanon.

That said, watch me prove with canon episodes that Rose is partially psychic because BOY HOWDY. I'm pretty sure the proof is there.

Father's Day 

[ID screencap from Father’s Day of the Ninth Doctor and Rose Tyler standing against a brick wall after watching Rose’s father be hit by a car. Both are grieved. Rose is crying.]

We can (and absolutely should) go sappy and point out how deeply the Doctor's let himself get attached to Rose already. I mean, he doesn't just take her back in time to meet her deceased father (which was never going to end well -- HE KNOWS IT WAS NEVER GOING TO END WELL -- but as we see with Thirteen and Yaz in Demons of the Punjab, the Doctor is a huge sucker for sad, brown eyes) -- the Doctor ALSO takes Rose back to the EXACT SAME MOMENT in time AGAIN just because Rose stared up at him with teary eyes and said please. Actually, scratch that. She didn't say please. She just said 'can I try again?' and THIS FUCKER is in so deep, he doesn't even insist on the please before setting the coordinates in the Tardis.

Completely hopelessly in love with her.

BUT ALSO -- follow me here -- you're a Time Lord right? A psychic species. A very advanced psychic species with a superiority complex so you definitely utilize some pretty strong psychic shields. But you're the last of your kind now and things are just a bit too quiet. And by a bit, I mean cavernous and terrifying. You're mostly hanging around humans these days, who can be a bit psychic sometimes yeah. But anyone who truly is psychic runs away from your thoughts anyway so it's a nonissue. You grow lax with your shields. Not all of them are down, but certainly some. It doesn't help. It's just so damn quiet no matter how few shields you have up because there's no one else left. There's just you.

[ID screencap from Father’s Day. A close up of Rose’s face as she looks up at the Doctor and asks if they can try again to be there for her father when he dies.]

And now your new human friend is standing beside you emanating pure grief like her whole world has ended, a grief you know far too well because your whole world did end, and between the nauseating familiarity and your lax shields, it's far far too easy to absorb her grief as your own, to feel all the pain she's feeling as she stares up at you. Of course, you're going to let her try again to sit with her dad as he dies. Of course you are. Your attachment to her doesn't even get the chance to agree because there is no other choice in that moment. You're going to take Rose back that second time.

Because you're a Time Lord with a superiority complex who forgot that psychic communication (like all communication) requires two sides and slightly psychic humans don't only come in the listening variety.

Some slightly psychic humans are talkers.

Chatterboxes. Projectors. Extremely strong-willed. Whatever you want to call it, some slightly psychic humans can send their thoughts and emotions into the world while other slightly psychic humans can hear them, and the human race only ever notices the latter. Who's going to notice if some people can project their thoughts? The slightly psychic listeners? All they know is some people think a little louder than others. What does that matter?

To a grieving and extremely lonely Time Lord, it matters quite a bit. It makes Rose louder, more vibrant. More alive than other humans -- though it will take the Doctor ages to realize that phrasing is completely wrong. All that buzzing when he takes Rose's hand doesn't mean Rose is more alive. That's just her thoughts and emotions zipping around because slightly psychic chatterboxes are just as unaware of their abilities as anyone else is. Where slightly psychic listeners know they're hearing shit and can work out basic shielding with a little practice, slightly psychic projectors have no modulation, no volume control, no nothing. They never knew they needed it. 

Which means they can get loud as fuck when their emotions are strong enough. Like Rose in Father's Day when she's too overwhelmed to run over to her father and wants to try again. And the Doctor, who both isn't using all of his shields and doesn't realize Rose is slightly psychic, is totally vulnerable to Rose's emotions. They sweep right through him and all he can do is react the way Rose is reacting: to ignore the consequences and do a second trip back in time.

I totally meant to use other episodes in this meta, but I already rambled too long on Father's Day. Oops. Quick summary: does Rose being slightly psychic have any bearing on the Dalek episode? No. (Unless after the Dalek absorbed Rose's DNA, its mutations including becoming slightly psychic... which is a very interesting thought.) It did 1000% play a role in the Tardis letting Rose absorb the time vortex though. The Tardis is a psychic ship, remember, and I'm sure she hasn't enjoyed the quiet either since Gallifrey was destroyed. So spending a year listening to Rose's mental chatter would be a balm for the soul. Of course, she'll want to keep Rose around too. And if Rose wants to absorb the time vortex so she can save the Doctor? Brilliant. Even better. No one ever wants to do the reckless and super deadly fun stuff. Let's go save our Time Lord!

[ID screencap from The Christmas Invasion. The Tenth Doctor is lying in bed caught in a regenerative coma. Rose is leaning over the bed to whisper in his ear.]

Oh and also Rose woke the Doctor up from a regenerative coma just by whispering "help me". I'm sorry, slightly psychic human says what?

[ID a gif from The Doctor Dances where Rose says “what” in response to the Ninth Doctor suggesting he gave her a red bicycle for Christmas when she was twelve.]

I rest my case.

[thefanficmonster]

Much Cooler

Corpse Husband & Emma Langevin 

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Platonic Fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: There’s always a certain level of uncertainty when meeting someone you’ve only known online. There’s that sense of insecurity that your relationship with them will never be the same or - even worse - that their view of you might change for the worse. But there’s nothing more thrilling than seeing the person you’ve been talking to constantly for the past however long standing across from you. 

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your request and I’m so terribly sorry for how late it’s coming out but I hope the fic makes it worth the wait! Lots of love, Vy ❤

“CORPSE! Wake up you famous dumbass!“ is the first thing the poor man heard over the phone at 9 AM on this fine Saturday morning.

It’s more than enough to make him contemplate why he even decided to pick it up in the first place considering he wouldn’t have been very able to participate in the conversation due to his sleepiness. He also, of course, made the mistake of not checking the caller ID which apparently wasn’t necessary considering how recognizable that voice and accent are.

“It’s 9 AM, Emma.“ He states as a tired parent would to a child, “I’m concerned as to why you’re up so early. More so as to why you’re calling me of all people.“

He can practically hear her roll her eyes but he still smirks to himself, knowing she can’t contradict him or argue since he’s completely right with his claims. “Whatever. Remind me to never call you to congratulate you on a milestone again.“

Now that pokes at his attention with a stick. Lately, said attention has proven to be a hibernating bear, leaving Corpse with a lack of interest or motivation for anything but damn if that sentence wasn’t enough to roll him out of bed and hop on PC. “What? What milestone? Subscribers?“

“Nope! You got two million likes on ‘E-girls are ruining my life’! I can’t believe I have to tell you this! Didn’t you notice the numbers climbing?!“ Emma, as annoyed and sarcastic as she’s trying to sound, she’s obviously overjoyed on his behalf and is super proud of him and of the project she luckily agreed to take a small part in.

As his PC boots up, Corpse can’t help but roll his eyes at Emma’s comment, “Well unlike you I have better things to do than refresh a page over and over aga-” His sentence is quickly cut off when he sees the number of likes under the song for himself.

Knowing that he’d find it there didn’t change the feeling of seeing it for the first time at all. It’s so surreal and so hard for his mind to comprehend. Seeing as how little he thinks of himself, his content and his art, this is like his success coming to slap him across the face as if to punctuate to him how wrong that mindset is.

“You know, it wouldn’t hurt if you offered to take me out for at least a coffee to celebrate, bro.“ Emma comments sarcastically, joking only halfway from what he can sense.

He smirks, “Trying to even the playing field, I see.” He replies, referring to the fact that he’s still a faceless mystery to her while her face is literally the cover art for one of his songs.

She laughs but is quick to dismiss his claim, “Nah, I might be a curious and nosey little shit on other occasions, but other people’s privacy is not something I dig my nose into. However, if I were to even the playing field between us it wouldn’t be appearance-wise. More personality-wise. For my sake and yours I choose to believe you are way cooler in person than you are through messages or on a call.”

This withdraws a genuine fit of laughter from Corpse who throws his head back, a few strands of hair moving aside to reveal his shiny eyes, “Well then, instead of giving me the benefit of the doubt, how about we settle it once and for all? Tomorrow? I’ll text you the location.”

Emma’s eyebrows shoot upwards as soon as she comprehends his words and the tone that leaves no room for her to assume he’s joking, “Wait what? How come you’re agreeing to this? And so easily? Nah, this a trap if I’ve ever seen it.”

Corpse laughs yet again, “No trap, Em. I just can’t have you doubting my coolness.”

                                                             *  *  *

The main reason as to why Corpse requested for this meeting to be today is because he feared that if he had more than twenty four hours to dwell on it he’d chicken out. Little did he know it was the same for Emma. Their friendship has only ever existed with the bridge of social media connecting them and they both can’t help but fear the other might not like who they are IRL. They fear they unintentionally become a different person or change things about themselves subconsciously when communicating with people online. Bottom line, they’re scared of letting the other person down with who they really are, unaware that their personalities are most likely the exact same because, as the people who know them can confirm, neither Corpse nor Emma are the type to put on a show in order to be liked. They would rather have no friends because of who they are than have friends and fans of their persona instead of the real them.

And so, while slightly afraid and anxious about this meeting, both of them see it as a relief test to see if the friendship is in fact as real as it’s seemed these past months.

Corpse was the one to choose the location of their meet-up, a location Emma didn’t even think twice about agreeing on, and ever since, they’ve both been counting the hours until their scheduled meeting time.  It’s not about impressing each other, at least that’s what they’re both telling themselves, but rather proving to the other that they’re worthy of their friendship. They might throw snarky and sarcastic comments at one another that others would give a side-eye glance to and question if their friendship is real, but they know the dynamic best and they sure as hell don’t wanna lose it or each other.

Best friends are the ones who roast each other after all - you can’t tell me I’m wrong.

The nervous Corpse fidgets with the insides of his hoodie pockets as he waits outside the café, having arrived ten minutes early because he couldn’t stand being alone with his thoughts in his apartment, judging every fragment of himself twice as harshly as usual. Emma, on the other hand, could barely bring herself to leave her home. She kept retouching her appearance, despite knowing Corpse wouldn’t judge her even if she showed up in pjs. To be fair she contemplated doing just that several times because her hair pissed her off enough to get her discouraged on her outfit altogether but she did eventually talk herself into pulling it together. She already knew she’d be at least five minutes late, but once again, she knew Corpse wouldn’t care.

He’d wait, cause that’s the kind of friend he was. Cause that’s the kind of friend she was for him too.

And boy did it take her less than a second to recognize him. She wasn’t even out of the car when she saw him and knew it was exactly who she was looking for. He too, as if with a sixth sense that registered her presence, shoots his head up from his phone to look up at her, their gazes meeting. There’s a brief moment of close-to-shocked silence, their eyes a bit widened as their brains comprehend that they’re within arm’s reach of one another.

That’s when Emma’s the first to break the bubble of awe as a wide grin spreads across her face and she runs to Corpse, wrapping him in a hug before he’s even realized the distance between the two’s been closed.

“Hey.“ She mumbles, her face hidden in his hoodie due to the height difference.

“H-hey.“ He replies, hesitantly wrapping his arms around her too.

“I was right.“ She says once she pulls away, “You are much cooler face-to-face.“ She pauses for a second, narrowing her eyes, “You’d be even cooler if you bought me coffee though.“

Earning a laugh from him, she’s guided into the café by the arm Corpse wraps around her shoulders, telling her he’s get her a milkshake cause he doesn’t want to see her high on caffeine. Needless to say, they both are, indeed, much cooler to one another IRL.

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[realcube]

✦ tenya iida x reader

✦ thank you to @coledrawsstuff​ for the request

✦ tw mentions of death, pot noodle & f!reader

[8:49 PM] 

“is that really the time?” you gasped, slapping your hand over your mouth as you stared at the little timestamp in the corner of your message to your partner for your physics project — the class representative, tenya iida.

honestly, it was sheer luck that you were assigned to do this project, which would make up to 20% of your final grade, with one of the smartest students in your class, who you also happened to have a slight crush on but considering how awkward you were around each other, perhaps that had nothing to do with fortune. 

but now you were texting him at ungodly hours at night! well, ungodly for him at least since iida was the one who infamously imposed the eight o’clock bedtime on everyone back when class 1-A stayed in the dorms. anyway, what would he think of you if he sees that you are staying up late and messaging him — only about the project but still — he’ll probably think you are some sort of loser that has nothing better to than message him at night-time with silly inquir-- oh, he replied.

you clicked on the notification that flashed across your screen to view the reply he sent.

[/PHOTO ID: text messages between the reader and iida that read as follows. reader says “Cool! When would you like me to drop the project off at yours? Anytime this week works for me btw!” and Iida replies “Good evening, L/N! It’s nice to hear from you. Also, would right now work for you? Starting tomorrow, I have a hero training with my father so I won’t be home. I’d understand if you are apprehensive to walk over here at night time, though. I could send a chauffer to drive you if you’d like. END ID.]

another involuntary gasp escaped your mouth. shock from both the fact that he was also up late texting you, and how he just offered that you come round to his house at such time. 

you lay frozen, your mind hazy with unrelated thoughts which you had to shake off so you could focus on the issue at hand. a part of you insisted that there was something that felt wrong about going to iida’s house so late at night. but an even louder voice in your mind reasoned that it was only a brief visit to drop off your project and your safety was basically ensured. also, if not today, then you’d probably never be able to find the time to deliver the project, assuming that the ‘hero training’ he mentioned lasted longer than a day.

the mental debate you held with yourself was over quickly as you realised that the only reason it felt ‘wrong’ to visit iida so late at night was because you were generally afraid of seeing him, in fear that you’d embarrass yourself. but the hero in you screamed the loudest today, saying that you could no longer let you shyness get the best of you and if you didn’t drop it off today, there was a chance that you’d have to kiss 20% of your grade goodbye. 

so without any further thought, you fingers worked on their own to type your reply.

[/PHOTO ID: a singular imessage the reader sends that reads “Okay! But there’s really no need for anything fancy. I think I’ll just hire a taxi.” END ID]

a proud smile played on your features as you finally set your phone down with a sigh, about to grab your cash and start getting ready until you noticed another pop up on your screen.

[/PHOTO ID: a singular imessage the reader is sent from iida that reads “Great! Also, the chauffeur is already on their way.” END ID]

you thought he was joking but when a person in a suit, driving a slick, navy car pulled up outside your house, the reality of the situation came crashing down on you all too late. 

it was a well-know fact that Iida came from a long line of heroes so he was quite well-off, but you never thought they were this well-off. and your shock only grew when you were cowering in the black leather back seats, cradling the project against your chest, peering out the window as the car finally arrived at the iida family’s grand estate. 

not only was it absolutely massive in size, everything from the tall marble pillars — or at least, designed to resemble marble — to the perfectly trimmed hedges, just screamed affluence. 

this image was only furthered after the driver let you out by the imposing, and rather intimidating, double doors of the house yet your eyes remained glued to the car for another few seconds, hence you were able to watch as the vehicle drove right into huge garage tucked away at the side of the house, filled with many other automobiles, too many for you to count in the few moment you were given to gawk at it. however, all you needed to notice was how every other car was a shade of blue and the ones lined up at the front were clearly more pimped out than the rest. 

you were suddenly snapped out of your trance by a tap on your shoulder, your eyes only widening more when you jolted around to meet the gaze of tenya, who’s piercing red eyes contrasted greatly with the warm smile gracing his features. “(l/n)! i’m glad to see you!” as always, his voice was loud and almost echoed off the hedges enclosing his estate. opening his arms, he planned on leaning in for a hug until you whipped out your free hand and held it out for him to shake. which he did, but his bright smile began to visibly waver. 

“is that the project?” he inquired, motioning to the ring binder tucked under your arm. 

“yeah.” you muttered, silently offering it out to him while mentally cringing and rebuking yourself for being so awkward about the hug. but your bustling thoughts all halted when you noticed iida’s attire as he gratefully took the project from you, “why are you wearing a suit?” you inquired, suddenly feeling quite undressed since you were under the impression that this exchange would be brief and casual so you didn’t throw on anything fancy. although, thinking back on it now, considering that iida offered to have you escorted to his house in a private car, you should’ve known that everything about the family was ‘fancy’. 

his lips pressed together to form a straight line as he clutched the project tightly to his chest. recalling earlier when he first got the message that you were coming over, one of the first things he did was rush into the shower, but not before kindly asking his mother or tensei to start preparing an extra meal as he’ll be having a guest. once he hopped out of the bathroom, he changed into his favourite outfit and blow-dried his hair to style it with great precision. honestly, he felt quite giddy, like he was preparing for his first date. 

but this wasn’t a date, of course! this was simply a classmate of his coming over to drop off a project! the only reason he dressed up was because he has to maintain the pristine reputation of the iida family. not because he wanted you to like him or anything. absolutely not. 

eventually jolting out of his flashback, tenya blurted out, “oh, no reason.” his hand found it’s way to the back of his neck, rubbing it while being mindful not to mess up his hair. “anyway, have you had dinner yet?”

the rather random question caught you off guard slightly, but after a few moments of recollecting, you replied, “no. i was just about to heat up a pot noodle before i messaged you, though.” 

by the look on tenya’s face, it was as if you had just cursed out his entire bloodline. so you were quick to try ask what the problem was, until tenya answered on his own, accompanied by rapid hand-chopping, “pot noodle? i believe those are the things kaminari would ruin the microwave with back at the dorms. i checked the ingredients on those and they contain next to no nutritional value! as a hero-in-training, your body needs the proper nourishment to become strong and you’re not going to find any of it in a ‘pot noodle’.” 

lies. iida has had several pot noodles in his lifetime and everything is alright in moderation. however, this was just a ploy to convince you to stay and eat dinner with him. 

“come inside, (l/n). i insist that you have dinner here as we wait for the rain to pass.” though his ploy was filled with many holes, it still worked as the driver was no where to be seen and it’s not like you could walk home, so you had no choice but to comply as he excitedly ushered you inside. 

trying to be a gentleman, he offered to take your jacket from you so he could hang it up but that proved to be a challenge as you stood frozen, lips parted to form an ‘o’ shape as your new surroundings flooded over you, your only movement being the twisting of your neck as you tried to take it all in. 

perhaps it was an interior design illusion, but the foyer of the house seemed larger than the whole bottom floor of the UA dorms. though, as you continued to stare, you realised that probably had to do with how it was a part of a longer, regally decorated hallway which iida was current dragging you through. 

“huh?” you gasped, finally coming to your senses at the feeling of his grip on your shoulder. “where are we going?” besides his palm, your shoulders felt bare, which is how you realised that iida miraculously managed to take your jacket off you while you were stunned. 

“to dinner, of course!” 

he was being serious about that?! you weren’t ready to have a whole meal in his house! especially after you have seen how lavish he lives, you don’t know how to eat like a rich person!

but before you could even object to his statement, he pulled you straight into his equally stately dining room which you didn’t even have the time to admire as a lady had sprung directly in front of you.  “oh! you must be tenya’s partner--”

heat rose to the boy’s face, making exaggerated chopping motions between you and his mum out of instinct, “physics partner!” he hastily corrected, voice cracking slightly.

“yes, physics partner.” she pursed her lips as she visibly tried to stifle a giggle, “well, it’s lovely to meet you. i’m tenya’s mother.” she bowed, which you were quick to reciprocate before tenya tugged you over to the dinner table so he could show you to your seat, but his actions immediately resulted in a brief rebuking from his older brother who was already seated opposite you. 

“don’t manhandle our guest.”

“apologies.” tenya responded seriously to tensei’s clearly joking tone. though, to him, the idea of mistreating his guest was not a joking matter as he wanted you to feel as comfortable in his house as you would at your own. 

both tenya and his mother rushed off to grab dinner as well as condiments, leaving you and tensei alone in awkward silence for a good few minutes. although, as soon as they left the room, he began trying to pick up a conversation with you without delay. 

“i never thought this day would come. it’s nice to finally meet you, (l/n).”

why did he sound like a super villain? although his tone seemed far from sinister, his somewhat ominous statement resulted in a shiver running down your spine. what did he mean by ‘finally’? and how did he know your name?!

“it’s nice to meet you too.” you muttered, lowering your head to vaguely bow but also so he wouldn’t notice as you cast glances from side-to-side in search of anything suspicious. 

“i’m tensei iida! although, you may know me as pro-hero ingenium. i took the--”

“no, i’ve never heard of you.”

his bright, bold smile instantaneously fell into a deadpan expression. “oh.” he breathed, the life seeming to have drained from his demeanour as he silently stared into the distance as if the gears had stopped spinning behind his eyes, leaving you with plenty of time to regret your words and shrink back in your chair. 

just as you were ready to shrivel up and out of existence, the man let out a hearty chuckle, “you’re a funny one, (l/n)! it’s a treat to have you on this special day.” 

a sigh of relief passed your lips at his response; the last thing you wanted to do was get off on the wrong foot with him solely due to a comment without any forethought. after you the ease had washed over you, your mind eventually processed what he had said and you were hasty to inquire, “hm? special day? what do you mean?” as you were almost certain that there was no well-known, publicly celebrated holiday today — nor did it seem to be anybody’s birthday.

tensei’s features wavered to reflect slight shock for a moment, until it went back to his default kind smile, “did tenya not tell you? hm, odd. he usually jumps at the opportunity to gush about our family history.” he joked light-heartedly, your visibly forced laugh prompting him to continue, “today’s the anniversary of the ingenium family’s first — documented — establishment. on this day, years ago, our ancestor entered the hero society, ready to save many lives and represent nobility under a name destined to be passed down for generations to come.” 

you nodded along, the amazed sparkle in your eyes bringing another deep chuckle to erupt from tensei’s throat, “seriously? so your whole family is a long line of heroes which began on this date?”

“yep. usually, the celebration would be a bit more extravagant than just the three of us — four years ago we rented a palace venue to accommodate to our vast number of guests — but due to recent circumstances, we decided to tone things down. plus, our dad is busy with his hero duties. at the rate crime is increasing nowadays, i’d probably be out too if it wasn’t for my injuries.” he said, awkwardly gesturing to his wheelchair with a weak smile, “anyway, we’re glad to have you, (l/n). we told tenya he was allowed to invite over a few friends because of the occasion but refused at first, so it was such a relief when he told us that his partner was coming over; he’s speaks highly of you and honestly, you’ve exceeded all of our expectations.” 

it was becoming almost impossible to hide how flustered you were since not only were you being showered by endless praise, but you also learned that apparently someone as well-rounded as iida thought highly of you. 

your throat ran dry and your mind was bustling with endless worries about your appearance and questions in regards to what you have been told, though that wasn’t reflected by your dazed expression. as the silence lingering in the air became more and more penetrating, a part of you began screaming about how rude it was to remain quiet so with little to no prior thought, you stuttered out, “a-and i’m honored to be here. thank you so much for welcoming me!”

tensei wasn’t given the opportunity to reply due to iida and his mother marching in, each one cackling louder than the other, joking about incomprehensible topics as they laid down the plates of food in front the respective seats, being framed by the gleaming silver cutlery that had already been set. 

“thank you so much.” you spoke up to ensure everyone at the table heard you, watching carefully as your friend delivered your meal. “it looks delic--” it took you a moment to pry your eyes off of iida’s buff stature leaning over you, but once you did, you got an eyeful of the meal you were given permission to ingest for free.

pot noodle.

it was as if you were struck down by lightening from the gloomy cloud which had been looming over you this whole time. was a nice dinner too much to ask for? i mean, they were a rich family so something new —something besides pot noodle— should’ve been the standard, right?

feeling your heart tightening your chest, you clutch your shirt, trying to hide all sign of pain from your voice, “it- it looks delicious.” 

your comment brought him reassurance, resulting in iida peering over his shoulder to flash you a smile, but you only frowned when you noticed that he was having a pot noodle too; except his wasn’t in the pot either, instead it was presented in a polished porcelain plate, garnished with parsley. 

“i’m so glad you like it!” it was a challenge to stay dejected when there was a bright ray of sunshine sitting next to you. “i remembered how earlier you seemed disappointed that you couldn’t have your pot noodle, so i insisted that our chefs whip something up to ensure that you feel at-home — to accompany our other dishes, of course. think of it as an appetizer.”

you were busy internally scolding yourself for expecting so much from your friend just because he came from a more affluent background, but as if on cue, your interest was piqued by his final comment, “chefs? other dishes? what do you m--” before you could complete your inquiry, a bunch of people in chef whites came flooding into the dining hall, all pushing metal trollies carrying plates, shiny cloches and bottles resembling those that hold wine.

there was tens of people, each one with a trolley that transported at least three dishes, all dashing through the dining hall to circle the table until a man — who you assumed was the head cook — halted in front of iida’s mother, popped open the wine bottle in his hands and poured her a drink, swiftly rushing off back to the kitchen as the woman brought the glass up to her lips. the other chefs tailed the man, but not before flashing the mouth-watering meal under the cloche, as if they were teasing you!

however, you were too busy shooting them slight glares to even notice that they’d discreetly slip the dish onto the table before leaving so when you finally shifted your gaze back onto the table, you almost fell off your chair at the sight of all the inviting foods spread out in front of you, the navy tablecloth almost completely hidden by the many plates. 

apparently you didn’t even go to the subconscious effort of hiding your amazement as you heard your friend chuckle from beside you, “you look like you’ve never seen food before.”

your bottom lip immediately jutted out, dropping your brows to form an unimpressed look, “it’s just so much, and it all looks so good! how are the four of us gonna finish it?”

“no- i didn’t mean it in a rude way, i thought it was cute.” he muttered, his voice trailing off as you didn’t seem interested in his explanation, “well, we’ll probably save some leftovers for my father then give whatever we can to the less fortunate, and eat the rest over the course of the next few days.” 

“that’s nice.” you mused, subtly trying to grab a bread roll from the plate across from you, “but i think you can only donate canned food.” 

“we have plenty of that.” iida laughed, handing you the plate of bread rolls which you were clearly struggling to reach, “dig in. if there is anything you need, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

you flashed him a friendly smile, “thank you so much! you’re so kind, may i repay you sometime?” you weren't exactly sure what you could do that’d be of equal value to the literal feast in front of you, but that was a problem for future-(y/n) as present-(y/n) was busy enjoying the luxurious texture of the bread roll. 

you both shared a knowing look of ‘repay me how?’ yet he still murmured, “i’d be delighted.” then proceeded to grab the bowl of beef stew and pour himself some. 

“thank you for the food! it was delicious.” you beamed, wiping crumbs from the corner of your lip with a napkin which had been folded into the shape of crane. 

“oh, it’s no problem, dear. thank you for joining us today.” iida’s mother giggled from across the table, catching the attention of the other to boy which lead to tensei erupting into laughter too while tenya tugged on the sleeve of your shirt, a sheepish grin spreading across his features, “i think you are supposed to unfold the napkin before using it.”

it was as if all the blood in your body rushed to your head since you suddenly felt light-headed as you frantically flatten the paper out of it’s crane shape, “oh, of course! i should’ve guessed.”

the other two iida’s continued to cackle, pounding their fists against the table in glee with tears poking at the corners of their eyes, “oh, tenya, you picked the right girl. she’s a hoot!”

“a riot!” his brother agreed, causing you to nod awkwardly while tenya simply scowled, replying as he placed his hand on your shoulder, “that’s not as flattering as you think it is.” tenya grunted, his aura now seeming a lot darker and moodier than before. 

this reflected on the other two as they were quick to silence themselves upon noticing his unimpressed expression, shooting you apologetic looks until tenya sprung up from his chair, “i took a look at the forecast and the weather is predicted to worsen. in fact, they think a thunderstorm is on it’s way, hence i propose that (l/n) should stay the night in our guest bedroom.”

the boy paused, waiting for input from his mother who only shrugged and turned to you, “it’s up to (l/n). i have no problem with her staying over, actually i’d encourage it, for safety reasons.” 

now, all eyes were on you. 

tenya couldn’t help but crack a slight smile, twisting his neck to gaze excitedly down at you, “how about it, (l/n)? would you be able to stay the night?” 

perhaps you should’ve lied; but from the reassuring effect of tenya’s hand on your shoulder to how his mother listed off reasons for you to stay, it was almost inevitable that you said yes and were now being escorted to your room by her.

BONUS 

iida sat at the end of his bed in his pyjamas, drying his damp face with a towel, enjoying the serene atmosphere of his room until his bedroom door was slammed open, causing him to jump slightly. 

“calm down, it’s just me.” tensei chuckled at the stunned look on his brother’s face before wheeling himself closer to the boy, not feeling the need to be invited in — it was only his brother’s room, after all. 

“i’d appreciate it if you knocked next time.” 

“um,” tensei briefly stroked his chin in thought, “no!” he grinned, once again laughing at his brother’s forced scowl until he reached the foot of the bed, “kidding. but anyway, when’s the wedding?”

“what wedding?”

“why, the wedding between you and (l/n)!”

tenya’s eyes widened at his brother’s suggestion, averting his gaze to the calendar on his right, pretending to be interested in whatever the date was but in reality, they both knew he was just trying to hide his raging blush, “what are you on about? don’t go making these sorts of jokes in front of (y/n).”

not making any promises, the older boy simply poked his brother’s cheek, “first name basis, i see.” 

“stop that.”

“i saw how defensive you got over her earlier. plus, you get those icky puppy-love eyes whenever you talk about her.” his explanation only made tenya’s blush even more furious, and so the hand chopping began. “trust me. i was in your shoes not too long ago. for your information, i’m not some old man who’s never had romantic feelings before in his life; i’m well aware of what it’s like to have a crush so there’s no use trying to hide it from me any longer. i know a simp when i see one.”

“who even let you in here?!” tenya hissed, grabbing the handles of his brother’s wheelchair and pushing him out, “goodbye, ossan. come back and talk to me when you are feeling better in the head.”

“oi-” the door was slammed shut right in tensei’s face. 

that was the most disrespectful he’s ever seen his brother act towards him, and he was honestly kind of impressed. “tenya’s all grown up.” he mumbled to himself, wiping an invisible tear from his eye before wheeling himself back to his own room. 

[aclickbaittitle]

A study of the friendships in Brimstone Valley Mall

If you are like me, you probably stalk follow your favorite podcasts in Instagram, and if so, you’ll know that we are getting a season 2, baby! And in celebration of that I want to talk about one key factor that made the podcast so special.

Philia love; The second type of Greek love. Is the reciprocal quality of love you feel for a friend. It’s about showing loyalty to your friends, sacrificing for them as well as sharing your emotions with them.

Author C.S. Lewis wrote that Philia “has the least commerce with our nerves; there is nothing throaty about it” but BVM (Brimstone Valley Mall) is here to prove him wrong. Philia or platonic love can cause as much ruckus as any other.

[Image ID: Two disembodied hands one pink and one dark brown making a pink promise]

From Belzagor undying (and possibly misplaced) loyalty in Hornblas, Misroch’s desire to be seen as an equally valuable member of the gang as him, to Trainee’s and Xaphan’s longing to be part of a group. This podcast shows us different kinds of friendships, and how mess up can they be while still having beauty in them.

MISROCH

[ID: Misroch crossing their arms with a frown on their face, next to it a quote that says: “I probably wouldn’t put you in the fryer if you passed out]

Of all the things the first episode “Where the hell are you?” pulls off, I think that at the end of the day these 30 minutes are theirs (and Belzagor’s of course).

Belzagor comes to the Wiener’s world and Misroch is quick to tell Trainee that even if they have NO clients whatsoever that their friend can come here and have anything free of charge. This immediately sets up the fact that the love language of the Demon is food (which is also mine). One of the most notable scenes for Misroch’s character in relation to the gang is in episode 8 “Attention Port Authority Bus Terminal”, when we hear Misroch list the separate snacks they brought for their friends.

Food was also the first common ground Misroch found between themselves and Xaphan.

BELZAGOR

[ID: Belzagor with one hand on her hip and in the other a screwdriver next to a quote that says: “I’d share my dumpster booze with you, valentine]

There is no question Belzagor isn’t a good friend -most of all to Hornblas-. Her second line is literally expressing how much she likes him, which when put against emotionally constipated Misroch and their ex-boyfriend Asmoraius, is for lack of another word BIG. She is the most concerned on finding Hornblas and cares a lot about his mental wellbeing, understanding the rough patch his being going through.

In that same episode she shares her Holly water with Misroch who had been not that nice with her, and then says, “Love you too Misnis”.

Is Belz love language words of affirmation? Possibly.

One for my favorite scene and the one that probably get birth to the Xaphan/Belzagor ship. Is in episode 9 “Happy Y2K, Part 1”. Xaphan has return to the too small too hot Boiling room of Hell and Belzagor is here to come rescue her.

Xaphan, curse her innocent soul, thought the gang would not come to rescue her and that she was all alone again, and her comes Belzagor and casually reassures her that she is important to the gang and that people need her. For Xaphan this might be the sweetest thing someone has done for her, and so she said “Belzagor...I owe you-”. But Belzagor, as being just a good friend for the sake of it and as with her friendship with Misroch is based on slushie just says, “A slushie? Yeah, you do.”

ASMORAIUS

[ID: Asmoraius blowing a kiss with a text that says: “valentine, I’d ________ and we could_________ so much.]

Asmoraius did not only serve us the only and very sweet romantic storyline of an angel and a demon (which we are all suckers for), him and Misroch also show us that ex-partners can be friends.

One of the most beautiful scenes and that stay with me in this podcast was on episode 8 “Attention Port Authority Bus Terminal” when him and Misroch are the only ones awake on the trip to Hell. As a Misroch kinnie it was so gratifying to hear how the lust demon reassures them that their friends like them the same as “Perfect Hornblas”.

We also discover that he is very observant, and that maybe if him and Belzagor don’t have as many interactions, you can see he cares about her and vice versa because he pays attention to what he likes.

Additionally, in episode 3 “Moral Kombat” Asmoraius is the only one that doesn’t threat Xaphan as a nuisance the first time he sees her (yeah, he ditches her for his romantic interest, but not before explaining the rules of the world to her and stating is a solo adventure). He answers her questions, he motivates her to earn her first sin coin and seems genuinely impressed with how well she did.

He boosts her confidence in the same way that he did Misroch’s and Trainee in episode 4 “Don’t call me darling.”

XAPHAN

[ID: Xaphan with a hand in the air, appearing to be waving and next to it a text that says: “Valentine, I’d let you be in my band if I was in the band.]

I think she has one of the most tragic backstories on this whole podcast, alone with nothing more to do than stoke the flames of hell, she didn’t any experience to learn about friendship, or anything at all, really.

Then when she firsts meets the gang, they are reluctant to have it, understandably so since she is “Hornblas’ replacement” and the idea of a member of your friend group being replace is not one you take lightly.

For me Xaphan’s journey is about coming into her own through the different things that the band gave her: an obsession with wieners, a lesson on how to make people sin and (at the end) words of affirmation that she is more than the “stoker of the belos of hell”.

To conclude

C.S. Lewis wrote: “To the Ancients, Friendship seemed the happiest and most fully human of all loves; the crown of life and the school of virtue. The modern world, in comparison, ignores it.” -he also went to say friendship was unnatural because you can breed without it which is cow poop.

I think one of the things that makes this podcast so great is how at is core is the story of a friendship, how it started, its problems and how it is changing into something different and probably better. In a story about human-eating demons Brimstone Valley Mall reminded us of what The Ancients (whoever they are) already knew: platonic love is the most fully human.

Image Credit:

#1https://dribbble.com/shots/9547608-Philia-Affectionate-Love

#2,3,4,5 https://misnis.tumblr.com/post/643199691865096192/i-am-a-leetel-late-but-happy-valentines-everyone

[heyheyloki]

Loving Is (Not) Easy [1]

Summary: Sometimes the best thing you can do is take it head on and wait.

Spencer Reid x M!Reader

Word Count: 4876

1. Sometimes, you need to wait.

The first time you met Doctor Spencer Reid was one that you wished happened under different circumstances. Although, if it did happen different, you highly doubt things would turn out like the way they have. You probably would never be living with him, never be able to be your true self, and never have found the man you want to love for the rest of your life. But, with any love story there will be always things in the way. Your enemy just happened to be time.

Around six months ago was the first time you saw him. He was literally your light in the darkness. He had saved you from a hell you couldn't escape for fifteen years. Over and over again you would wake up in that small room and the devil and his partner would strip you of yourself. They took everything they could from you, yet he was the one to give it all back.

It was around winter, the seasons turning as the green grass began to be dominated by the white fluffy snow. You were never really able to see it though. They wouldn't let you. The only time you got to see the outside was when they would remove the nails from the sheets that blacked-out the window from your eyes. You suppose you could always just try to tear the fabric down, but they would never let you back up in your room without your hands damaged. Too damaged to even touch anything. It stung.

You always believed that your life was supposed to be this way. That you would eventually die before you could even figure out how long you’ve been in this place. Before you could even know how old you actually were. Birthdays, time, those things were long in the first three years up here. After that, everything was such a blur that you barely tried to pay attention to it anymore. You believed in so many things, positive things, and yet as the time went on negative thoughts crawled inside your mind. You would never be able to experience love, or even get a job and normal social life. Something you have been deprived up ever since you came out to them about something personal. Something they thought was filthy and disgusting.

You thought for such a long while that it was your fault, and you still did to this day. Maybe if you had read the signs more you would have noticed. But what young boy notices that stuff? What young boy would think their parents are capable of such acts because of their sexuality?

You never tried to scream. Your mother always told you that if you scream then you’ll get punished. You never tried to learn what that punishment would be. Although, one day the pain was just too unbearable that you let out noise. Your parents didn't like it much. But how can you not scream as they cut open your skin? 

Even with the punishment. Even with the beatings. You think the only thing that saved your life was your scream. You only thank those who heard it, the neighbors. They were the ones who brought him to you. And you thank them every day of your life for it.

It was normal day at the BAU section of the FBI in Quantico, Virginia. The team there had received a case from the police in Denver, Colorado about a possible abusive household. Normally, things like this would be handled by the police only. Although, this case was proving to be more and more gruesome than they ever thought possible.

The team had collected in the conference room, the board lit up with two pictures. One of a man and the other a woman. They looked to be completely normal, normal people anyone would pass at any time of the day.

"Nicolás and Vanessa Perez are a married couple in the Denver area of Colorado." A woman known as JJ stated. She had short blond hair and fair skin. Each of those at the table had a conflicted look on their faces, especially since she didn't show any pictures of them as bloody corpses.

"What's so special about them?" Agent Aaron Hotchner, leader of the team asked.

"Well, they aren't dead for one. Although, neighbors have heard screams coming from the house." She said, her thumb clicking on a button on the remote she carried. A small window of video popped up and immediately began to play. It was focused on the ground, a sidewalk. Even so with not being able to see anyone, the bloodcurdling screams of a male was present in all of their ears. Screams that called out in the darkness when monsters are visible. Screams that should never be made possible. But, it was. Those types of voices were signs of clear distress and pain rather than fear. And everyone in the room knew that.

Once it ended, a couple of people let out a deep sigh. Their hearts speeding up for just one moment before putting back up the shield that helped them do this job.

"Do we know who that was?" Doctor Spencer Reid, the youngest of the agents asked.

"No one had any idea up until a few days ago when a neighbor took this picture." JJ said as she put up a somewhat blurred image of a young individual looking out the window of what looked to be an upstairs room or attic.

"We have any idea who the kid is?" Derek Morgan asked.

"No one can get an ID on him." JJ informed the team. Although, just as she believed they would hurry to Denver, Colorado, Hotchner asked, "I understand the severity of the situation but why did the police need us on this case?"

"Well," JJ muttered. Her thumb clicking a button once more as ten pictures of young woman popped up on screen. The youngest at eighteen while the oldest ranging up to her thirties. "All these woman have been going missing in the area where the screaming can be heard. Police there believe it is this couple kidnapping these young woman, but they have no proof."

"Wait, but the one in the picture there is obviously a young man." Emily Prentiss stared clearly for everyone to hear.

"Yeah, that does seem to be the case." Spencer Reid agreed, his hazel hues keeping on the blurred picture of the young man.

"Either way, I don't like the odds that boy has." Hotchner said, picking up himself and the items he owned from the circular table as he and his team moved out. The screams they all heard from that video echoing non-stop in their minds.

2. Don’t Make A Sound

 When they all reached the police station cops were running back and forth as commotion ensued the place. They looked around at the panic before picking up the pace to the one who calls the shots, the Chief.

"What's going on?" Special Agent David Rossi asked. He and his team watched as the police chief turned to them just after he hung up the phone. Some determination deep within his eyes, or perhaps anger.

"We just got another report of screams coming from the same house." He quickly stated. "I'm about to go visit the home again, you all are free to tag along."

Everyone quickly agreed, however, Hotchner was quick to leave JJ and Reid at the station to start up a profile for the unsubs. Meanwhile, everyone else traveled to the most unsuspecting home in the most unsuspecting neighborhood. It was one of those neighborhoods that would be in an ad back in the day that promoted the American Dream to foreigners. The clean cut green grass, the perfect two story home, and of course, the whit picket fence. When the team came up to the house and knocked on the door the woman answered first. She stared at them with narrowed eyes as she scanned all of the badges they whipped out for her to see.

"Mrs Perez? We have a few questions for you. May we come in?" Derek asked with the deep and silky voice that attract woman left and right.

"Sure," she stuttered. Her fingers scrunched against her thin scarf that hung loosely around her neck as she stepped aside for them. Each one that entered her home allowed another squeeze at her scarf.

As the officer and members from the FBI looked around the home, they noticed nothing out of the ordinary. It was a typically normal home with a normal living room, kitchen, even bedroom. When they all sat down in the living room to talk, Derek couldn't help but notice a door that looked to lead up to an attic. One that would have to be pulled down from the sealing. Thing was though, it had a lock. He kept it in mind as others began to question her. Rossi looking around at the picture of her and her husband along a table, as well as several items that indicated she was religious.

"Where is your husband, Mrs Perez?" Rossi asked. He stared at the back of her head for a moment before going back to the pictures when he heard her reply, "The store, we needed more food."

"Ma'am, we've been getting several reports now of screams coming from your house. Mind telling us what that's all about?" The officer asked, his brows furrowed more the longer he stared at her.

"I have no idea. It's just me and my husband, you see. We don't bother anyone." She stated calmly. Although, even with her calm demeanor, something about this woman irked Derek to his very core. He could feel it in his gut that something was wrong, and almost on some god-given luck a few noises--like footsteps--came from above. Everyone was quick to get a look up, their minds racing. However, when they looked back at the woman on instinct she said, "We have a raccoons nest up there."

"Better get them out soon, raccoons tend to carry all kinds of illnesses." Rossi said in a manner that was almost read as sarcastic, like he wasn't buying any of it. Although, even with the timid questioning, things began to heat up at an exponential rate when he saw a photo of a small boy. In the picture it was easy to say he was a cute kid. Smooth skin, full lips, gorgeous colored orbs, and healthy looking hair. The kinda features for a male that would mature into god-like looks.

"This your son?" Rossi asked. He held the photo up for her to get a look at when she turned her body around.

"Yes. His name is [Name], a sweet boy." She sugared, something about her honeyed words clawed at Rossi.

"So, where is he now?" He asked, walking up to the group once he set the photo down. He watched as she grabbed a hold of her necklace, a cross, as she said, "I sent him away. Boys like those detectives, they get a lot of attention."

"What kind of attention?" Prentiss asked, her arms folded over her chest.

"Attention one boy should not be getting from another." She hissed out. Her hatred now clear for everyone to see. Her dark eyes scanned the room before her voice became strong, more stern. "How would you feel if your son was kissing other boys?"

"I wouldn't care." Hotchner quickly stated, his own eyes burning with hatred as well. However, his hate was targeted somewhere different. "What did you do to him?"

She stared at Hotchner for a moment. Her eyes twisting into something that made his stomach turn at what she could have done to her own son. Then, a moment later, she raised her chin and said, "Somewhere better. Somewhere where he can learn god's will and fix his devil like face."

After the interrogation at the Perez house, the team went back to the station where Reid had been fixing up a board that helped him classify the unsubs.

"Whatcha got, pretty boy?" Derek asked with a small smirk. He saw Reid turn around with a sorta mocking face for a split second before getting into his findings.

"The only connection I could find between the missing woman was that they are all between the ages of eighteen and twenty, not only that but after about a week they are discarded and replaced." Reid started out saying, thoughts now running through his family's minds when he said, "It was almost like they were defective to them in some way."

Derek was the first to speak his mind, even if he didn’t like the conclusion he and many others were coming up with only after meeting the wife once. “When we went there, she went on about sending her son to a ‘better place’ where he can ‘fix himself’. If her and her husband have him and are taking these women, is it a stretch to say that they’re taking these women for him?”

“Well, why would they be doing that?” JJ asked. “I mean, you guys said that it sounded like their son was homosexual.”

“He can still be.” Rossi said, “but the parents think they can fix his sexuality by forcing these women onto him and when they don’t..”

“They’re killed and replaced,” Hotchner finished, his eyes scanning the board before saying aloud, “let’s go give the profile.”

3. Escape Never Looked So Easy

You’ve known this place most of your life and for the longest time you could remember a new girl coming to visit you every week. No, visit isn't the right word. More so forced to see you. You knew what was going on as you got older and you knew the first thing you had to do was help these women in anyway you could. Over and over again you have failed in ways that no one would ever understand. However, you were determined to help this one. You had too. Not only for a lofty sense of justice and pity, but since it was also your chance. She could help. Go to the police. The FBI are here now, they will help you.

"It'll be okay, I promise." You whispered to a scared woman who hugged her knees in her chest. The tears down her face wouldn't stop, staining her pale cheeks. Her wobbly eyes gazed up at you, staring at every possible scar that they left on your face.

"How do you do it?" Her brittle voice asked. Her head leaned to the side as her eyes narrowed and brows furrowed.

It was weird to be asked such a question, but not an uncommon one. They all ask it eventually, and you guess at some point in time you found the answer.

"I.. learned to adapt." You muttered out, your own head leaning downward as you stared at the rotting wooden floorboards. It was quiet for a moment, but you could still feel her eyes curiously watching you. Searching you.

"H-How long have you been up here?" She stuttered, almost scared to know the answer.

This time it was your turn to mirror her look of confusion. You could always tell when it was night and day, when the seasons chance, but you never have been able to count the years that have gone by. That was always the hard part.

"Don't know," You uttered, your voice soft and vulnerable. "All my life, I suppose."

Looking back, all you remember is this place. This way of living. You truly believe the only thing that kept you from believing this was okay in anyway was the books your father sneaks to you. He ended up doing it for as long as you could remember, but after some time whenever she would leave the house he would come up here. He'd teach you things, tend to my wounds, even apologize.

One time, he even tried to help you escape. A while ago, after they put up the tarp so the neighbors couldn't see you from the attic, he left the nails very loose in the wooden boards along the wall. It was easy for you to take it off without making too much noise. The jump down wasn't much given how it's only a two story home and the land would be in some bushes, but she tends to be more concerned with locking you away from the world. Father said it was so you don't 'act on the devil's desires'.

That sentence never did make sense to you. As much as you believe in your own intelligence, you could never wrap your head around it. After all, how would you be acting on the 'devil's desires' when she calls you the devil in disguise. Wouldn't it just be your own desires then? And even so, what's so wrong about desires? That's what makes an individual, otherwise wouldn't we all just be the same?

Father told you it started off with my looks. She believes you’re not their child, and he predicts that's how she can act so monstrous towards you. She apparently used to tell him about how the devil is supposed to be depicted as a handsome man, one with radiant features and charism so he can make others sin. She was always scared of you, of how you would look when you grew older. But, the moment she caught you innocently giving a kiss to a boy, she snapped.

She tells your father that they are ridding great evil from the world. Not so much about protecting you, fixing you. But more about protecting other people, helping other people. She used to call priests all the time when you were younger, but they stopped coming after some time. Your father thinks it has something to do with the fact that she didn't want the priests to see the scars on your face.

The first one she placed on you was on your left bottom lip. It drags from your lip to a little on your chin. It's noticeable, that's for a sure, as well as jagged. Over time, the cuts got smoother. The latest was under your right eye. It was curved to match my eye socket as well as wide more in the middle before riding off. All the other scars just happened to be on your body. Chest, back, legs, arms. She wanted to make sure that you were no longer the devil she imagined. After all, if your face was no longer sinful, if your handsome features were cut up, who would think of you as even the least bit attractive?

You only snapped out of your own thoughts when the girl across from you tapped on your shoulder. Your eyes quickly met hers that were filled with some kinda new strength while you felt wetness stream down your face.

"We're gonna get outta here. Both of us." She said to you. It was the first time someone had offered to take you with them. The first time that they didn't just care about their own escape. Although, you never blamed them.

"Y-Yeah," You stuttered, your voice cracking the longer she stared at you.

However, you decided at this point it would be best to just focus on her. She was more in danger than you were, so, you told her a plan. One that was full proof as long as that woman is out of the house.

"I can't take the tarp down, nevertheless open the window with my hands." You informed her. She guided her eyes to your shaky hands that where riddled with scars and bruises. Some cuts open with dried blood the only thing keeping the wound shut. "They haven't hurt you like they have me yet. So, it's up to you."

"How will I know she's gone?" The girl asked.

"She will be soon. This is the time of the day that she goes out for more supplies. It will take her at least twenty minutes." You informed her. Your head dropping for a second before saying softly, "Get back here with those FBI guys before then."

"Why?" She asked curiously.

You never did answer that question. It was your least favorite of all questions, especially when the answer most of the times is so easy to figure out.

4. God Sent Me An Angel

Fifteen minutes. That's how long she's been gone for. As much as you hope she would bring those people back, you wouldn't blame her if she just ran for the hills. Something like this, it would scare a lot of normal people. Though when does something scary turn into another person's normal? After time? You suppose that could be one answer; maybe even the only answer.

You think it was in a book you read stated that faith could be something of salvation and yet could lead someone onto the highway to hell. You truly believe that is where she will go after she dies, and you do hope that she realizes the truth. The single truth that you are not the devil in disguise. That you are not a sinner. That you are not Satan himself.

It was so quiet, quiet enough to hear your own breathing as it entered through your nose and out your mouth. Your breath laid still in the air, visible by the cool air that surrounded the attic. There wasn’t a heater in there, so the temperature was determined by the weather on the outside. 

One minute. Two minutes. You felt like you had started counting the seconds, lost so much in your head that you didn’t hear anything until the sound of clanking wood rang loud in your ear drums, infecting your brain.

You whipped your head around and stared blankly at the only exit or entrance of this hell besides the now broken window. Although, you had heard the sound so many times before that it was normal, most of the time you wouldn't even go to look. But this time you wanted to see, you wanted to look to see if the true devil was going to look you in the eyes or maybe perhaps it would be an angel himself.

However, you heard no sirens. Heard no new voices or those of those men before. So, the moment you saw the light shine from the house into the attic, you knew you would be staring into the eyes of the devil. And you did.

You knew the moment you saw the disembodied look on her face that my fate was sealed with a bloody end. Perhaps now your suffering can end, maybe now you can actually get some peace.

"Get over here, boy!" She yelled, her words like poison. Yet you hoped in that moment that when she wrapped her hand around your wrist that you would be let to your salvation. Maybe when you die you would see the pretty stars, the beautiful moon that somehow gave you a sense of hope in that dark and cold attic.

Her grip was solid and terrifying, although the fear you had for that woman died a long time ago when she started to slash your face. You couldn't see your father for miles, you had just assumed in that moment that perhaps she killed him as well, just like with all the other woman before. The ones you failed to save but each made a vow to, one they wanted you to keep before they met their end.

It wasn't until you both went into the kitchen and found yourself in the spot that she makes a mess with your body that you felt something. It wasn't so much fear or anger, but more so hope. It was the hope that this never ending nightmare would finally come to a close, that you would finally wake up.

"Sirens.." You muttered to yourself, your voice soft like that of a childs. You watched as her face contorted in fear when some men began to pound on the door and claim to be with the FBI.

When the door was busted down she pulled you close to her and held an object close to your neck, yet before it all she managed to grab the nearest bag and place it over your face. Essentially, even to the end she would rather hide me from them all entirely. With your vision gone, all you had was sound and touch to go one.

"Put the knife down!" You heard a man yell. You could remember him as one of the men that came here the other day.

"Mrs. Perez, let the boy go." A soft voice spoke. You couldn't explain why it was silky and not as deep as the other but gave you a sense of calmness. You could tell you would be fine in that moment, and believed it more than the entire universe.

"I'm not letting such evil into the world! None of you understand! He's the devil himself!" She screamed, the knife's sharp edges more prominent against your neck. You didn't make a sound though. You thought maybe you could get punished if you did.

"Why do you believe that?" The man with the calming voice asked. You could tell he was trying to calm her down to let you go.

Her firm grasp on your shoulder suddenly grew tighter, you believed she could shatter your bones if she really wanted to. "Everything about him. He's a sinner, he makes other people sin." She whispered, "He doesn't look like me or my husband."

"You think he's the devil because of his looks?" He asked.

It was silent for a second before she uttered, "I know he is because of his looks. I tried, I tried so hard to make it so he wouldn't make others sin. So he wouldn't spread such evil into this world."

"Why don't you tell me all about it after you hand him over?" He asked. You could tell all of his words were lies. "If.. If he's in custody with the FBI then he won't be able to spread the evil you speak off."

"Could I.. get rid of him?" She muttered. It was quiet, so quiet that all you could hear was your own breathing until you felt the hand on you shoulder slowly loosen. The knife around your neck moved around and before you knew it you could feel a pair of gentle hands on your upper arms.

You could hear the shuffling next to you and the jiggle of metal as they cuffed the woman next to you. It wasn't until you heard those footsteps echo off into the distance that the one in front of you asked, "Are you alright?"

You only nodded. It wasn't that you had an issue with talking or something, you just didn't want to at the moment.

"I'm gonna take this off, okay?" He asked. Your mind guessed he was taller than you and looked up an inch in turn. It was the first time that someone asked permission to do something to you.

You nodded again and once you did the crinkling the bag ran loud into your ears as the darkness you saw turned into light. When you opened your eyes, you stared at the man in front of you. He was young, maybe in his early or mid 20s. His chestnut hair was on the longer side and did this cute thing were it got curly on the ends. It reached down to his jaw that was sharp. He had pale skin, and had these eyes anyone could get lost in. They were sweet, something you haven't seen in anyone but those woman and your father at times.

The both of you stared at one another for an extended period of time. While you admired the man's features, you thought perhaps he was in shock at how hideous you look. Between the scars and such, you wouldn't be surprised if he thought that. However, the more you looked into his eyes, the more the idea of disgust was pushed from your mind. It was like that emotion wasn't even present as he stared at you.

Though, when he snapped out of his daze, he looked back on his game.

"Hey, there," he uttered calmly. "My name's Spencer Reid. I'm with the FBI, you're gonna be okay, you understand?"

You nodded your head again. You could tell he probably thought you were mute or something so when he started to move away you said aloud, "[Name]."

He was quick to move his head around back at you. The expression on his face was one of shock. He was truly baffled you were speaking, which made you almost retract. Although, I didn't.

"What was that?" He asked in confirmation.

"[Name]." You said more firmly, my natural deeper tone coming through. "That’s my name, since we’re sharing."

This time it was his turn to nod his head a bit, but at the same time, he smiled. It was softer and showed no teeth, but a smile nonetheless. It somehow softened you a tad, almost made you feel vulnerable to an extent. However you knew that it probably had something to die with the fact that he saved your life.

"We're gonna take you somewhere safe. Is that okay with you?" He asked. The second time someone has asked your permission. It truly felt wonderful. It was almost like you mattered, like your feelings were valid.

"Sure," you said. It was at this moment that your turning point would occur and you would be be allowed the freedom to do what you pleased. Something you were deprived of for over fifteen years.

[normal-thoughts-official]

With a little help from your friends (the help is praise kink and the friend is your boyfriend)

Who would have thought that fucking your boyfriend senseless cures dysphoria.

Alternatively: being a dom is actually something that can be so gender,

Fandom: It Lives (Visual Novels)

Pairing: Andy Kang/Tom Sato

Additional tags: let's see, mild mentions of transphobic and racist comments, Comfort Sex, the filthiest comfort sex uve ever seen but WHATEVER, dom andy kang, sub tom sato, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Dom/sub Play, Collars, Praise Kink, basically someone says transphobic shit and then tom rides him and talks about how wonderful andy is, except tom has also been in denial for a few days and he's super horny, and andy gets in domspace and everything is great and nothing hurts, Fluff and Smut, Humor, cuz u know these two are incapable of taking anything too seriously, Established Relationship, oh they're both in college and they go to the same college cuz i said so, set after the events of it lives beneath, that's it I think, trans author if that matters to you

Read it on Ao3

Andy isn't having a great day. It's not a terrible, clawing-at-his-chest-trying-to-deal-with-dysphoria kind of day, but he's been trying out this "not comparing everything to the worst possible scenario" thing his therapist has been talking about, so still, not a great day.

The thing is, he thought college would be easier. And it is, in a lot of ways. For starters, there is no evil monster spectre trying to kill him, which gives college at least 5 points over high school. And his uni has a pretty solid queer club, so he knows other trans people there. Some of them are even non-white. Some of them he even actually, truly likes. And most of the time, he feels like he has a place to turn to, and people to support him. He's not alone. He has people who get him. And that makes all the difference.

But basketball is still a nightmare, and his knee still hurts when it's cold, and winter is officially starting now.

People still hesitate to pass the ball to him, and it's frustrating, because Andy fought so hard to earn his old team's trust and now he's back at square zero. And well, Andy has been gaining this team's trust, because he's good, goddamn it, and his team owes at least the last three victories to him. He's not hesitant to say that, especially because otherwise no one will. And he can see that they look at him differently now - nod at him in the hallways, at least, talk to him in the locker room, pass him the fucking ball if his position is very, very open.

But if he weren't trans and Asian, he wouldn't have had to work so hard to get all of that - or well, just that, really. He has a full sports scholarship despite the fact that he had a broken leg, had to retake his last year of high school, and doesn't even have the body type for basketball. If he weren't Asian, if he weren't trans, his team would have assumed his greatness from day one. Instead, he has to show it to them time and time again only to get them to reluctantly admit maybe he's not bad. No one calls him "triple threat" anymore, but he still has to work three times harder than anyone else, and it's frustrating.

And usually Andy can deal with it, but right now his knee hurts, and he can't afford that because he'll lose everything he's worked for if his teammates know that his fucking knee hurts. So, he braved training and then he got the fuck out of there without even changing so no one would see him wince. Which means he's still in basketball shorts, which are short, in the cold, which means his leg hurts more.

At times like these, he's thankful he never got the chance to go through with his promise to break his other leg kicking Noah's ass. Because he would have, and then both his legs would be hurting right now, and two legs that hurt every time it's cold is just too many legs.

No comparing to the worst possible scenario, he tells himself. Therapy is so hard. If he had known there would be homework, he would have thought twice about going.

And that's, apparently, the cue for his phone to go off. Andy smiles, knowing who it is even before he opens the message, because only one person messages him during class, and it's the only person he wants to hear from right now.

Tom <3 sent you a message

Grinning like a fool, he opens it.

Tom <3: dude, im horny af rn. the fuck

Finally, good news, Andy thinks, smiling. Then he remembers why Tom is so horny, and suddenly this day is great, actually.

He quickly types a reply.

You: who wouldve thought that 3 days of denial would make this happen

Tom <3: ill have u kno i was very good at holding it together before today

You: yeah, dw. soon u wont have to hold it anymore ;)

Tom <3: that flirt was terrible, dude

You: said the guy whos calling me dude for the second time in this conversation

Tom <3: what else should i call u? 😩

Andy thinks for a second. Tom and him do longer-term denial every once in a while, but they aren't in a 24/7 relationship. Does Andy really want to go there right now? Yes. Well, that was fast. Okay then.

You: how about "sir"

Tom's reply comes fast as lightning.

Tom <3: Yes, Sir.

Andy smirks at himself.

You: uve been hoping that id say that, havent u?

Tom types for just a little longer this time.

Tom <3: Yes, Sir.

----

Many things are wrong with the world, and Andy doesn't mean to make light of the other things, but the fact that Andy can't simply go and fuck his boyfriend whenever he wants is definitely one of them. It should be, like, financial compensation or something. We're so sorry the school environment is transphobic, here, have a free sex pass. Sounds fair to him. But instead, he still has two hours of classes to go through, and Andy is a better guy than he wishes he was, so he tells Tom to pay attention to class instead of sexting him, because he doesn't want Tom to struggle even more with his course when he had already had to leave it once. God damn true love or whatever.

The point is, by the time classes are finally over, his day is back to not being that great; he's tired, and his leg hurts. He gets to their car after Tom does, and Tom takes one look at him, and says, "I'm driving".

Andy crosses his arms. "Why?"

"Because your leg hurts," Tom answers, rolling his eyes and taking Andy's bag from him and putting it in the trunk.

Andy looks down at his legs. He wasn't limping. There aren't any bruises. How the hell-

"It's cold and you're in shorts. I'm not an idiot, dude."

Right. Yeah. Right. Of course. Tom knows. It's… It's alright.

"Bad day at training?" Tom asks, slowly, sympathetically, and Andy feels himself settle in his skin a little bit.

"The usual," he answers, getting inside, and, as always, Tom gets the hint.

---

Their uni's dorms are gender-segregated because these guys have still not gotten the memo that people of the same gender fuck; and Andy wasn't willing to deal with cis college guys' bullshit, much less cis college girls' bullshit; and the uni wouldn't let him simply pick Tom as his roommate. So, they rented out a beat up apartment right next to it instead. It took a little longer to get there, but it wasn't a lot longer, and well, it was worth it.

Tom gets inside, still carrying Andy's bag because he's transphobic and unfair and had taken it and bolted up running so Andy wouldn't have a chance to argue with him. And Andy can't run after him with his leg hurting, which kind of proves Tom's point that he should carry Andy's bag. All in all, Tom is the worst, and he turns up the heat as soon as he gets inside and sits Andy down on the bed, kneeling in front of him to take a look at Andy's knee.

He's silent for a while, massaging his knee until Andy sighs and throws his head back, before Tom plants a little kiss on his knee and looks up at him. Andy's knee always stops hurting when Tom kisses it better. It's a little embarrassing, if Andy is being honest, but still- nice. Really nice.

They stay for a little longer like this, Tom humming and massaging his knee and Andy not meeting his eyes, until the question inevitably comes.

"What happened?" Tom asks, not letting up with the smooth movements of his hands, his eyes big and sincere with worry.

"Nothing. Just the cold. You know how my knee gets."

"I meant, for you to leave practice without putting some warmer clothes on."

Andy looks away. "It was nothing."

"Dude, are you expecting me to go, 'okay, yeah, that totally makes sense and I believe you', or…?"

Andy laughs, despite himself, and throws his good leg up in an almost-kick to pretend he's retaliating. "Don't be an ass."

"I'm not. Come on, Andy. You know you can tell me."

"It's nothing, it's just- Kyle-"

"Oh boy."

Andy laughs. "Yeah." But then he grows serious, "the thing is, he doesn't mean any harm, you know? I know he's not saying it to hurt me, and so that just means that, like... that it's true."

Tom's hands stop their movements, rubbing soothing circles around his knee instead. "What did he say?"

Andy doesn't look at him. "He asked me why I didn't stay on the women's team. Said that I could have an advantage, cuz Asian people are androgynous anyway, so no one would notice that I was taking hormones."

Tom just stares at him in shock for a moment.

"And I was like, 'dude, I've been on T for three years, I'm pretty sure they would notice the changes'. And he was like, 'yeah, but you still look like a lot of Asian girls with short hair, you could write it off if you wanted', and I just…" He trails off.

Tom waits in silence for a second, seeing if Andy finds his words, before asking, "Is Kyle, like, okay?"

Andy scoffs. "I didn't try and fight him, if that's what you're asking."

"No, I mean, does this dude have a screw loose or something?"

"He's very bad at figuring out what is or isn't offensive, yeah, but it's not like he really cares, he just won't go out of his way to antagonize me."

"No, I just- Andy, even when you were a little kid with huge pigtails, anyone would have to be crazy to see you as a girl."

Andy bites the inside of his lip. "You're just saying that."

"I'm not. It's just wrong, man. It was so obvious that it was wrong. Anyone could tell. There's nothing about you that says 'girl' to anyone who's looking."

Andy sighs, finally risking looking at Tom's eyes. There's overwhelming sincerity there, and Andy instinctively looks away. "I guess. Maybe. I don't know. It just got me thinking... Maybe T didn't change anything. Maybe I look exactly the same, maybe it was just hopeful thinking that had me thinking it would change anything, maybe it's just- pointless to even try-"

"No, no, come on," Tom says, and the interruption is so sudden it makes Andy look at him again, just in time to see Tom shaking his head vigorously. "There's no way you believe that. What about this bad boy over here?" He smiles, reaching out softly to caress Andy's neck. "You have more of an Adam's Apple than me, dude. And we both know you don't need T to be a guy, but thinking it made no difference is just crazy and you know it. What about those dry pecs? These broad shoulders of yours? Your voice, I mean, come on. You even smell different, man. How can it be pointless, if even your scent is different?"

Andy looks to the side again, but he can feel himself smile. "Well, when you put it like that..."

Tom gets up, but stays close, putting his hand on Andy's cheek, slowly, as if testing the waters, before turning him slightly to look at him. "Andy. Kyle is an idiot and a transphobic racist who's too damn lazy to realize how fucked up he is. And you shouldn't have to deal with that, and I'm sorry, and I will set him on fire."

Andy laughs. "You can't keep threatening to set every shitty teammate I have on fire."

"I can, because it keeps making you laugh," Tom says, smiling. Well. Andy can't argue with that. "My point is, you wouldn't listen to a word this dude says if it were about anyone else, so don't listen to him when he talks about you, okay? T or no T, you're no girl, and you don't look like a girl, and regardless of whether or not Kyle's dumb ass noticed it, your transition has been doing you good. Remember when your voice started to crack and get all weird? I've never seen anyone be that happy about it."

Andy laughs. "It was pretty awful."

"No, it was great, 'cause you loved it. Do you want me to pull out the 'before' pictures we took in case this happened? Look at yourself, dude. You fit so much better in your own skin, you know? And like, you've always been gorgeous, but-"

"Come here," Andy interrupts, pulling him down because Tom is standing and Andy is sitting and Andy is already height-challenged. And Tom goes willingly, carefully straddling Andy's lap and meeting him in a kiss. Finally, Andy thinks.

Tom kisses him softly, slowly, one hand resting on the back of Andy's head and the other draped lazily over his shoulder, as he usually does, all gentle and a little hesitant, and Andy is having none of that. So he grabs Tom's hair and deepens the kiss, bringing him closer until their chests are flushed together and he can feel Tom's hips mindlessly making little circles against Andy's belly.

They separate - or well, stop kissing, really, because Tom is still as close to Andy as physically possible, and Andy feels about ready to shoot anyone who tries to push him further away. Tom's a little breathless, and his hips are still making these almost imperceptible movements against Andy, and Andy realizes that he's still grabbing Tom's hair and that he's a little breathless, too.

Tom looks down at him for a second, as if debating something with himself, before saying, "and like, not to be horny during a serious moment, but since we're talking about the effects of T... Andy. Andy. Your clit. Fuck. It's so huge now, and it's got a visible head and you can fuck my face and everything, and I could sing it praises for a week and probably will if you don't stop me right now."

"Hmm, but I like it when you sing me praises," he smiles. "Keep going."

"God, I was hoping you'd say that. Do you have any idea how much I've been thinking about it today? I didn't hear a single word anyone said to me, all I could think about was you fucking my face, pulling my hair, making me worship you and beg to be allowed to suck you off, I wanna serve you like you're my God." Tom's hips start to jerk up, more visibly this time, shameless, and see, this is why Andy's been really, really liking this whole denial thing - Tom has only started to explore his subby side recently, a little ashamed of it to admit it to anyone, even himself. But when he's horny enough, he gets shameless and desperate about what he wants, and god, nothing is more beautiful than Tom when he asks for what he wants. He feels something growing inside of him, not sure if it's warmth or heat, but seeing Tom like that, wanting him, needing him, definitely makes him feel so much better.

"Yeah?" Andy asks, tracing a finger over Tom's shoulder, close to his neck, just to give him goosebumps.

"Fuck yes, I want it so bad, and you deserve it too, Andy… Sir. You're the best Sir I could ask for, I just want… Want you to use me, want you to cum on me, want to kiss you all over and worship you and pleasure you, you're so gorgeous..." He hides his face in Andy's shoulder for a bit, but his hips don't stop moving. He whines, "Andy..."

"Address me properly," Andy snaps, feeling the edges of worry clear from his mind and giving way to that wonderful feeling of clear-mindedness, of power, where nothing matters but his own pleasure. "And maybe I'll give you what you want, if you earn it."

Tom nods, hips full on thrusting now, and Andy snaps again. "Stay still."

And he does, immediately, without question, biting his lip and keeping his eyes shut with effort. Andy can feel his thighs clenching and spasming over his, trying to keep himself from moving, trying to be good. He hums in appreciation, but doesn't praise him for it, not yet.

"I'll get you ready," Andy explains, before reaching to Tom's hair, and starts to undo his bun, as slow as possible, just to watch him squirm. He gets so impatient when Andy undresses him, which is why Andy never misses a chance to drag it out.

He begins by removing Tom's jacket, sliding his hands slowly over his shoulders, then down his back, feeling the firm muscle there, digging his nails just a little bit so he can see Tom's eyes flutter in bliss. When the jacket falls to the floor, Andy begins circling the hem of his shirt, sliding until his hands are back on front, fingers just close enough to Tom's cock for him to feel Tom tense in his hands, so damn sensitive to his touch, so needy. God, he can't get enough of this, but he pretends that he doesn't notice, lets Tom try and keep himself together as Andy's hands slide over his belly, then chest, over the shirt, collarbone, wrapping and resting on Tom's throat just so he feels the threat of it, before Andy finally grabs the back of the shirt's collar and tugs, taking it off. Then he slides his hands back down, making sure to run a finger just over the sensitive spot where his pecs end, then lower, over his ribcage, belly, hips, next to the bruises where Andy had grabbed him the night before, then back to the middle, just over the bulge in his pants, and Tom finally breaks and jerks up slightly, letting out a little moan.

"Sir," he whines, "please, please, I-" Andy continues to circle the head of his cock with his finger, "please!"

"Patience," is all he says, before going back to his painfully light movements, imagining Tom's needy cock twitching under his fingers, imagining the effort Tom makes not to thrust up or keep begging for more, just because Andy told him not to. "You know how much I like playing with your pretty little cock. You said you wanted to serve me, didn't you?"

"Yes- yes, Sir."

He hums, noncommittally, not looking at him. "Good." He teases the tip of his clothed cock some more, enjoying the way his mind zeroes on that, the way he feels like he has all the power and the time in the world. Finally, he pats Tom's thigh once. "Get off, and take off the rest of your clothes. Get the lube and a condom."

Tom gets up, a little shaky, and does as instructed, while Andy reaches down to the drawer under the bed where he keeps his dick's spine and a few of their toys. He gets the spine, then adjusts his packer briefs so he can put it on - best purchase of his life, really, those briefs. So much easier to use than a regular strap-on and it makes the packer sit over his clit just right, making a little suction and pressure. Andy couldn't be happier that he was already wearing them.

Tom gets back with everything he asked right in time for Andy to finish making his dick hard, and goes on to put the condom on and cover Andy's cock in lube with the kind of attention that makes Andy hold his breath. Tom's so careful, yet eager, and adoring, about it. Andy feels like the hottest guy in the world.

Once he gets permission, Tom sits on his cock, slowly, getting adjusted to it - admittedly, Andy went a little overboard when he bought his first cock. Andy waits until Tom is fully seated, littering his neck with little kisses and praise for how well he's taking him, how pretty he looks, until Tom looks fully comfortable and ready to start complaining if Andy doesn't start fucking him in earnest soon. That's when Andy shows him the other item he pulled from the drawer - Tom's favorite collar.

Tom's reaction is instantaneous. He throws his head back, moving over Andy's cock as he lets out a breathless, almost choked moan; the hands he had resting on Andy's shoulders suddenly squeezing full force in his need.

"God, you're such a whore," Andy says, casually, and Tom nods, even as he flushes. The collar is just a simple black one, with a little hoop for the leash, but inside they had it engraved with the words Andy's whore, and it left visible marks that could be seen for a few hours after they took it off. It never failed to drive Tom crazy, so it always drove Andy crazy, too. "Stay still," he warns, and Tom nods, breathing heavily, gripping Andy's shoulder as tight as he can as he stays frozen in place. Andy slowly puts it around his neck, checking with his finger to make sure it's not too tight, and the second he clasps it in place, Tom's whole body relaxes, a content little sigh escaping his lips, his face slack and blissed out. He likes being owned, so much. Andy can't get enough of it. "Good?" he asks, just to make sure it's not too tight.

"Perfect," Tom answers, the words leaving him in a sigh. Andy then ties the leash to the headboard, making sure that they're just far enough from it that he'll be feeling its pull the whole time. Tom lets out a moan. "Thank you, Sir."

Andy smirks. "Now, here's what I want you to do," he says, "you're going to ride me, just like that, and you're not going to come until I tell you to. You're definitely not going to come before I do. If you come close, you'll have to tell me. I want to hear you scream, so make as much noise as you want. Do you understand?"

Tom nods again, almost dizzyingly quick. "Yes, Sir."

"Good, then get to it."

Tom doesn't need to be told twice. He starts riding him, slowly at first, trying to find the perfect angle for Andy - not himself, Andy notices, pleased. Once it's perfect, Andy orders, "faster, slut,” and Tom obeys, as always, working up speed as he tries to keep himself upright, feeling the tug of his leash with every movement, moaning the whole time. “Good boy,” Andy says, and Tom’s responding whine is high pitched, embarrassing, needy. He gets even faster then, starting to babble as he keeps on working, and Andy just stays casually in place, not having to do a single thing while Tom works to give him pleasure.

"Fuck, you're so perfect, did you know that?" Tom asks, quickly sliding down on Andy's cock, making sure he puts all this weight in the end so Andy's cock will press down against his clit just the way he likes, making sure to go as deep as possible, "I've been dreaming of your cock for days, god, Sir, nothing's better than this," he hides his face in Andy's shoulder, speeding up even more, thighs shaking with the effort, and Andy puts a fist in his hair and pulls, watching as Tom throws his head back and lets out a scream, working even faster on Andy's cock. "Sir!," he whines, "oh, thank you, thank you, feels so good, oh my god, please, I'm gonna-"

"No, you won't," Andy interrupts, "I'm not even close to coming yet. Keep working, slut."

"Y-yes, Sir," he whines, going faster, deeper, and Andy makes it harder for him, keeps pulling at his hair to expose his neck, litters kisses and bites on his exposed throat, grabs his thigh and squeezes hard enough to bruise so Tom remembers he's his, his whore, his toy.

"I love it when you get like this," Andy says, doing his best to keep his tone even, even as he's a little breathless from pleasure, from power, "I bet you want to come so bad, don't you? If I'd just give you the word, you'd be making a mess of yourself, coming on my cock right now-"

"Fuck! Yes, yes, Sir, please, I'm so close."

Andy smiles. "No."

Tom whines, so cute, adorable, and Andy is nice enough to leave a little kiss on his shoulder, grounding, calming him down. Before going right back to torturing him, "no, you don't get to come for a long time yet. I want you just like this, on edge, tasting it…" Andy grins. "Tell me how close you are, baby."

"I'm- I'm so close-"

Andy slaps him in the face. "You can do better than that."

"Fuck, I feel like I'm going to explode, I'm so close, I want it so bad, and you feel so good, God, you have no idea what you do to me, Sir, your cock is so perfect, it hurts, I need it- need to cum on your cock, Sir, please-"

"No."

Tom chokes on a moan, and starts to go even faster. He lets out a little whine, something Andy thinks was supposed to be a word, but doesn't come close.

"See," Andy says, "this is why I won't let you come. Look at you - every time I tell you no, you get so desperate, so obedient - it's what you want, isn't it? You want me to keep telling you no, you want to know your pleasure doesn't matter, that you're just here to serve me."

"Yes! Yes, yes, yes-"

"Good, then keep going. And beg all you want- I like telling you no, too."

Tom does. He begs, and he says thank you when Andy denies him, again and again and again. Thank you, Sir, thank you for using me, for putting me in my place, I'm yours, I'm yours. And he keeps on praising Andy, praising his cock, his body, the way he fucks him and uses him, no one else makes me feel like this, no one deserves to be worshipped and served like you, Sir, I want to make you feel good-... Until even the clear-minded state of domspace begins to crumble and Andy feels nothing but pleasure, and confidence, and power, and he cums to the sound of Tom praising him and begging, once, twice, three times, until his head is clear again and everything, even the need to chase his own pleasure, is gone, and he just feels perfect.

"Stop," he orders Tom, who's still babbling more and more incoherently, endless praise and worship, and Andy finds that he worships Tom right back. "I want you to get my cock as deep inside you as you can, and stay still. I'm going to play with your dick for a while, and when I tell you to, you can come. You did well today, baby."

Tom nods, suddenly struggling to use his words. "T-thank you, Sir," he says, already frozen in place, thighs clenching with the effort not to move and also shaking with all the effort he did before.

Andy coos. "Poor baby. You were so good to me today. Let me take care of you."

"You always- always do, Sir," Tom replies, and Andy smiles.

He gives Tom a long, slow handjob, making sure Tom stays still through it, enjoying the way his thighs shake on top of Andy's, the pressure of Tom sitting tight on his cock, the way his arms also shake with effort where they rest around Andy's neck; Tom's pretty, exposed throat all marked up around his collar, his breathless little whines as Andy makes sure to do it just the way he likes it, makes his cock turn red with need; watches Tom bite his lip, because when he has to keep still he becomes so quiet and needy, even as the little whines go through his lips… Until Andy finally says, "come for me, baby," and Tom screams through an orgasm that lasts almost a minute, hanging on to Andy as tightly as he can to keep himself anchored through the pleasure.

And then Andy holds him, and Tom holds him back, and they hold each other.

----

A while later, they've cleaned up Tom's cum so it doesn't get all sticky on Andy's chest, and Andy's finally taken off those damn briefs - they're great for sex, but get pretty tight when you wear them for a long time - and Andy holds Tom against his chest. He's humming, contently, and if anyone had told him at the beginning of the day that he'd be comfortable enough to have someone close to him while he's fully naked, he'd - well, probably assume they meant Tom, but still be skeptical.

"How do you feel?" Tom asks after a little while, finally opening up his eyes and saying hello to the world.

"That's supposed to be my line," Andy laughs.

"I feel great. Perfect. Next time, I wanna do it for longer. A week? Let's try a week. Or two weeks…?"

Andy laughs. "Let's not make too big of a leap yet."

"Fine. A week sounds good. Great. And now that we've established that denial is totally bomb for me, how are you feeling?"

"Honestly? I'm feeling great, too," Andy admits, playing with a little stray of Tom's hair, swirling it around his finger, "I think I needed that, a little bit. Who'd have thought that having you ride me and praise my cock cures dysphoria."

"Every trans top on every forum I've ever visited."

"Let me have my moment of realization," Andy mumbles, faux-annoyed. Tom just laughs, holding him closer.

"I'm just glad I could help," he says.

"Please tell me you didn't ride my cock just to help."

"Well, no, in case you hadn't noticed, I was horny as fuck. I just tried to, you know. Use that to give you a little push. Since you wanted to. Y'know. Also, it was all true. So..."

"Thanks, love," Andy says, earnestly. "I love you."

"I love you more."

They bicker about it, and Andy's smiling the rest of the day.

[divine-draws]

quirkless hero izuku au shit. all of it is gunna be under the cut bc i KNOW this will get long.. p much just a list of hcs and how the au goes for Me at least

also feel free to send me asks about the au. i may draw some stuff for it too!!!

okay so obvs izuku doesnt get afo

id say that the events of the start of bnha p much happen as in like the whole sludge/slime monster and meeting all might

and we get the rooftop scene but instead when all might is asked if izuku can be a quirkless hero he hesitates for a moment but, knowing the answer HE wanted to hear, he says yes. or p much says yes

izuku isnt outright discouraged like in canon. i think all might though isnt the most motivated person about it bc that wasnt the case for him but he also knows what kids want to hear.. buuut also he like.. doesnt want this kid hurting himself

izuku sees small might form and all that but yeah he’s fucking determined

and id say the same shit with izuku running out to fight happens but when he’s heading home after being admonished he runs into small might and-

p much yagi grabs this kid by the scruff of his neck and is like you CAN be a hero without a quirk but please for the love of god do not go running into fights like that again. 

and so like in canon all might trains him BUT it’s not exactly to pass down his quirk. all might doesnt TELL him about his quirk but low key feels like this kid has the potential and shit. trains his body and shit before his entrance exams and all that and like in canon he ends up trying to pass on his quirk before the exam

this time though, upon izuku now finding out the truth of all might’s quirk, he.. declines. he’s like thank you but no thanks. i’ve thought about this for a while and like.. i want to do this without a quirk. without help

(later though bc it’s izuku he’s in his room fucking screaming internally because he turned down being all might’s successor WTF IS WRONG WITH HIM??? but dw this was a Good choice)

so obvs the au can go a couple ways here BUT honestly bc it’s my au and ppl can make unrealistic aus if they want im saying he manages to get enough rescue points in the entrance exam to juuust scrape by to getting into class 1-A. yay hero course!!!

id say a similar thing to canon happens but he does more rescue shit ending w him saving uraraka and lol idk he probs gets kinda crushed tho. this boy’s bones are NOT safe even in this au

so yeah it’s sick though him and his mom cry a bunch when he finds out he got in. yagi is so fucking proud of this boy like oh wtf. 

(also side plot of all might meeting mirio who ends up being his successor. this time it’s mirio and izuku and all might doing those ofa meetings and shit bc izuku knows and he’s fucking SO SMART and is rlly good at analysis and strategy and give me that good good senpai mirio relationship w izuku. they joke around a LOT and it’s good izuku has friends in 1-A and a pseudo older brother in mirio. anyway!)

p much i think the plot follows some very similar things except we got some tweaks to it that are better

izuku is like.. mei’s fucking playgroud. it’s free realestate!! he is fucking insane and they become friends and he tries out her babies and really he just gets some kick ass support items. the support items arent everything but i mean they really help. between mobility and so on. and like this kid can pack a PUNCH/kick so like having his steeltoed boots and like brass knuckle equivalents etc help make it that much worse

anyway so sports festival ?? oh man!!! 

so for the sports festival honestly izuku didnt use his quirk much in canon ANYWAY so like easy translation imo. he uses his big ass nerdy brain !!!

but then we still get the scene between todoroki and him and when they get out there to duke it out like.. we still get that lovely “it’s your quirk” shit 

i think it’s a lotta just izuku using his brain to avoid being fucking frosted and like him getting some Good Hits in on shouto. 

he does loose. it’s not as explosive as the canon fight but he def sacrifices his own chance of proving himself even more by getting in the top three to just.. help shouto. bc that’s just who he is though and through

shouto may have gone a bit overboard and once again izuku ends up with a shattered arm. so worth it tho

(also listen i may not get to that point in all this but todomido/tododeku is a THING 10000% in this au)

uuuuuh. yeah but honestly i think a lotta ppl are like..rlly surprised when they hear that he’s quirkless or whatever. and like duh this kid is fucking so good stfu he can do all this without a quirk

he works harder than anyone there and deserves so much

also no deku hero name. none of that shit in my house

tbh atm dont know what it would be. just the one that i hear enough of like dekiru

but id be way down for it to be like.. something diff idk

honestly i have so many more thoughts in my head. so send me questions about it or whatever. i just love this and think izuku NOT getting ofa is like.. so good

[rayneul]

Ray Route Bad Ending 3 Guide

(donʼt/never answer messages it give good heart so i suggest dont answer it :))

Day 8 (100%)

01:37 – Rapid Contact

Selection 1 I can’t sleep.

Selection 2 I might need some help now…. (Nothing)

Selection 3 There’s something wrong with the chatroom.

Selection 4 I’m scared…

Selection 5 …. Then what will happen to me?

Selection 6 That’s because I have to keep my promise with Ray… (Ray)

Selection 7 …Did you read what I’ve been writing so far?

Selection 8 I want to go rest now… I’m tired….

Selection 9 Wow…what’s it about? (Nothing)

Selection 10 But right now we have more important matter at hand. (Ray)

Selection 11 I think it’s better not to miss anything that could raise our name value.

Selection 12 I think it all depends on his luck…

Selection 13 But you can’t pessess and actor on stage.

Selection 14 I’m into games.

Selection 15 I’m too scared to sleep alone…

No Caller ID & 707 Calling

- Yes I am… Who is this?

- No recording, please.

- There’s one missing.

- I can’t hear you.

- Was it you just know who pulled the prank?

- What if I get caught lying?

 03:46 – What Should I Do with You

Selection 1 Yes…?

Selection 2 I thought you’d be mad if I don’t….

Selection 3 Please don’t play with me….

Selection 4 Okay….

Selection 5 Maybe….

Selection 6 Why would you be mean with food…? (Nothing)

Selection 7 I’ll be good to you!

Selection 8 How can I make you happier?

Selection 9 I’ll get used to it fast….

Selection 10 I’m sorry…

Selection 11 I’ll do anything you tell me… Please don’t throw me away.

Story Mode – This is ridiculous…

- Ray has become different… I�� was so alarmed.

- No longer here…?

- Can’t you save me…?

 Saeran Calling

- It would have been great if I could help you with hacking skills.

- I’m ready.

- I’m drawing it while listening. Keep talking please.

- Don’t imprison me…

07:21 – In My Opinion

Selection 1 Is it because of the governmental commendation? (Nothing)

Selection 2 Seven, you don’t have another you hisdden within, do you…?

Selection 3 It’d be near impossible to win….

Selection 4 Now there’s stronger and smarter hacker. Because the one before him was no good.

Selection 5 I’m scared….

Selection 6 The part will be held, right…?

Selection 7 Hello….

Selection 8 Don’t you think it’s better to accept when an offer is made?

Selection 9 Isn’t it a little suspicious that Seven is against it? I thought he liked anything that’s free.

Selection 10 Please trust Seven a little more. (707)

Selection 11 You didn’t want commendation because of your guilt.

Selection 12

So you don’t deserve the commendation….

Selection 13 I’m going to vote for you!

Selection 14 I think he offered the commendation only because he’s V’s fan.

Selection 15 We will be holding parties, right?

Selection 16 Good idea! (Email from housekeeper)

Selection 17 What files? Are they important? Can you send them to me too?

Selection 18 Have a good one.

Selection 19 You must be feeling awfully sorry.

Selection 20 Are you stitching right now?

Selection 21 Be careful not to prick your finger! (Nothing)

Jumin Calling

- Do you oppose in receiving the government commendation?

- Maybe…because of political reasons?

- Worst scenario?

09:03 – FINALLY

Selection 1 Zen… Can you talk to me..? This is so hard….

Selection 2 Now all you have to do is go out there and show them what you’re made of! (Nothing)

Selection 3 I don’t see anythng noteworthy apart from your face.

Selection 4 Hey…

Selection 5 Sounds delicious…. (Ray)

Selection 6 It feel so good to see someone else showing the evil I can’t….

Selection 7 I think I prefer bad guys.

Selection 8 I’m hungry…

Selection 9 But he added love. You should eat it….

Selection 10 I have a bad feeling about this.

Selection 11 Let’s throw it away and make a new one.

Selection 12 Did the luck really burn…?

Selection 13 Precious is food….

Selection 14 Make sure you’re on time. (Nothing)

Selection 15 Hungry…

Selection 16 Does it really make me lucky?

Selection 17 Can I cut them in chunks? (Nothing)

Selection 18 Yoosung, wanna marry me?

Selection 19 Back there you were neglecting your stew while chatting, weren’t you?

Selection 20 Yoosung, you’re adorable.

Selection 21 I’m going to enjoy it with my bias.

Selection 22 But I can’t even share it. I think I’m getting hungrier…

11:16 – I Really Want to Know!

Selection 1 Did the stew taste good?

Selection 2 I think so… You’ve done well. (Nothing)

Selection 3 Are you just going to leave me here?

Selection 4 There’s not much time. (Ray)

Selection 5 I wonder why you didn’t get a contact, Yoosung… (Nothing)

Selection 6 Why would you want to make sure?

Selection 7 Are you that timid?

Selection 8 I think Seven has so many stories….

Selection 9 Yes, I will. If there’s something I can do. (Ray) Depending on the situation.

Selection 10 Alright. Run along.

Selection 11 Can you call the prosecution series to find me?

Selection 12 Zen… I’m sure it’s nothing! (Ray)

Selection 13 IS this what the lucky stew brought upon you?

Selection 14 This isn’t related to me, is it…?

Selection 15 Didn’t you say V is calling you? (Nothing)

Selection 16 Yes, please do.

Yoosung Calling

- What are you uneasy about, he’s only being interview. Yoosung..did you…did you do something?

- Wow. What if that’s the case? I’m suddenly feeling uneasy too…

13:58 – Very Shocking

Selection 1 This is so shocking.

Selection 2 I’m the one who’s suffering the most…

Selection 3 Are you sure RFA is still innocent?

Selection 4 Or maybe Zen had a stalker.

Selection 5 Long is the pathway of stitching…

Selection 6 Do you think V will be willing to do that?

Selection 7 You’re leaving already?

Selection 8 I’d say it’s 96.74999654%!

Selection 9 Jumin, don’t you have to go now?

Selection 10 Maybe things will turn out the way an authority wants to…

Selection 11 Sure. You need to work anways.

Selection 12 I’ll try.

 Jaehee Calling

- If it’s Zen, I don’t think there’s anything to worry about!

- Why don’t you look into it through the intelligence unit?

- I predict it as 99.99%!

16:04 – V’s Decision

Selection 1 I’m nervous….

Selection 2 You mean the hacker’s attack that’s still going on?

Selection 3 Have you now realized that you’re not good enough.

Selection 4 No…. If you cancel the party, then I…

Selection 5 It doesn’t sound completely rational.

Selection 6 You mean we’re not going to hold the party? (Nothing)

Selection 7 No… What if I’m thrown away?

Selection 8 But then won’t that affect the guests in a bad way?

Selection 9 Okay…

Selection 10 For what?

Selection 11 I don’t think I can trust you…

Selection 12 I’m scared… It feels like something will fall upon me.

Selection 13 My introduction to the RFA itself is a secret…. (Ray)

Selection 14 He must have a secret mission of his own….

Selection 15 Doesn’t that mean the messenger will soo be in crisis because of the hacker?

Selection 16 Bye.

Story Mode – Okay, that’s enough edge for today

(Door Opened)

- I don’t deserve to make any thought.

- I…think you’re amazing.

- I don’t deserve to say no.

- Yes…

- Yes…

- Yes.

 V Calling

- V…this is tough.

- It’s nothing.

- Would you have made that decision if you were truly worried of me? What are you going to do if I do fall in danger?

18:31 – Sorry. This is all my fault.

Selection 1 Zen! Is your interrogation over? (Nothing)

Selection 2 Since you’re talking about selfies, I’m guessing nothing big happened? (Nothing)

Selection 3 What happened to the rehearsal? (Nothing)

Selection 4 Maybe that’s one of the emergency features of the app. Everything going on in here is confidential, you know? (Nothing)

Selection 5 Probably…..

Selection 6 Seven you must be busy.

Selection 7 There won’t be a party. Looks like I’m not useful anymore.

Selection 8 The party’s intention was never good in the first place…. It’s all V’s fault.

Selection 9 Is this true? (Nothing)

Selection 10 So what did you tell them? (Nothing)

Selection 11 It’s too late. You need to tell us what’s going on.

Selection 12 You sure have a lot of secrets.

Selection 13 Are you running away…? Though that is one option….

Selection 14 Where are you going? (Nothing)

Selection 15 Seven can manage himself. He’ll be fine… right?

Selection 16 Even if you do, he won’t tell you what you want… As always.

Selection 17 Will you come save me if I’m in trouble…?

 Zen Calling

- I’m worried that your looks would have deteriorated.

- What’s there to be complicated about? You’re done with the prosecution interview, the party on hold is V’s decision, and Seven… he’ll take care of it himself.

 20:48 – Cornered

Selection 1 Didn’t V say that he has a favor to ask you? (Nothing)

Selection 2 Can’t we talk to V to change his mind?

Selection 3 Do you think they’re also watching ‘me?’ (Nothing)

Selection 4 Tell me a secret. Anything is fine. Even if there won’t be a party, I must prove that I’m useful…

Selection 5 What is he up to now?

Selection 6 It’s fairly common to see an innocent people framed after a single wrong move… I should know. (Ray)

Selection 7 V guaranteed my identification. You shouln’t be suspicious of me.

Selection 8 Even if I do something wrong and someone finds out…I’ll be thrown away before someone arrives.

Selection 9 I need to do as they tell me….

Selection 10 Even if I do, I know that you’ll throw me out faster than they can save me.

Selection 11 I’m sorry….

Selection 12 Please don’t do that….

Selection 13 Am I useless now?

Selection 14 What are you going to do to me…?

Selection 15 Please don’t throw me away…

Selection 16 Okay… What do you want me to do?

Selection 17 I’m scared….

Selection 18 …I can only do what I’m told to do anyways.

Selection 19 Okay…. (Nothing)

Selection 20 I’ll try.

 707 Calling

- I’ve lost contact with the RFA members! Please let me get in touch!

- Can you hear me? Tell V that we must have the party! If not, I…

22:14 – Treasure

Selection 1 Role play.

Selection 2 Hello…Ray.

Selection 3 Saeran and I are doing well… (Ray)

Selection 4 I don’t remember them very well… I must have forgotten because I’m an airhead.

Selection 5 I think so….

Selection 6 Now I know… That I’m nothing special…

Selection 7 Bye…

 Saeran Calling

- I’m not up to something. I’ll here quietly.

- Yes. I understand. Do as you like.

23:39 – Survival of the Fittest

Selection 1 Why won’t you come see me?

Selection 2 I never thought about that. I’m too stupid to reach that part.

Selection 3 Do I deserve to see her…?

Selection 4 Hello, my savoir.

Selection 5 Where is Ray? My savoir! Please love me… Aren’t you the founder of the RFA…? (Ray)

Selection 6 My savoir…?

Selection 7 I made a mistake… Please let me make up for it!

Selection 8 It’s all my fault. I’m an airhead.

Selection 9 So you did save Ray…!

Selection 10 He must enjoy torturing me.

Selection 11 So you’re saying…I am useful, aren’t you?

Selection 12 …Now I know that I’m weak.

Rika Calling

- Not interested. He’s not Ray.

- Are you trying to say is that you saved him?

[prettywordsyouleft]

Voice of Reason

Prompt: #55 for @soldtochanglix​ – “Don’t leave me...”

soldtochanglix said:

hey! I was wondering if I could do a drabble request. the idol id prefer is Wonwoo from SVT or Jinyoung from Got7 and id like to request either number 54 or 55. Don't tire yourself just trying to write my requests. You don't have to do both I request either. I love reading your fics, have a nice day (or night). :)

Pairing: Park Jinyoung x reader

Genre: CEO au / angst / fluff

Warnings: only for Jinyoung’s poor liver.

A/N: This is the one for Jinyoung, your Wonwoo request will be tomorrow.

Word count: 1458

Park Jinyoung was done caring.

The multi-billion dollar deal had fallen through and it was all due to his incompetence. His company would now fail and he would be left in ruins, the young CEO who had tried to covet too much too soon.

Even he knew he had been ambitious reaching out for this deal. Yet it had been dangled in front of him, and like most people, Jinyoung had believed he held the necessary skills to make it his. Blinded by foolishness, he reached out for a bounty far too large and now the livelihoods weighed down on his shoulders that he was accountable for. If all trade stopped with Park Corporation, he would disappoint those who had followed him blindly as their leader.

It all felt too much and as the hard liquor ran down his throat in one motion, he laughed bitterly. Even the strongest of spirits couldn’t help him now.

“You look like you shouldn’t be drinking so much,” a voice oozed and he glanced up out of his misery, uncharacteristically smiling widely at you. He pulled out the empty barstool beside him and patted the seat. You grinned. “At least, not alone. Who knows what kind of trouble you’ll get into?”

“Nothing worse than I’m already in,” he admitted easily. He was drunk now; he could feel the warmth of the alcohol as it moved throughout his veins.

“You’re in something deep?” you breathed with feigned confusion, shaking your head and he watched the movement of your hair floating around your off the shoulder dress until he grew dizzy. Blinking rapidly, he tried grasping at any remaining coherency but the liquor had taken care of that.

“Quit moving,” he mumbled and you laughed, music to his ears. Just who were you? A figment of his imagination? He knew this couldn’t be real life now. No one as beautiful as you would sit down beside him when he was pathetic like this.

“You’re cute.”

“I’m a failure.”

“We all fail in life, kid. It’s all about how you make the choice to rise back up from it. Are you going to let everyone just walk all over you and make you feel incapable or will you try for another round and prove what a mistake they made doubting you?”

Jinyoung scrutinised your flawless face until his eyes hurt from staring so intensely at you. “Just who are you?”

“Maybe the voice of reason you need to get up from the hole you’re creating yourself before it’s too late,” you answered, standing back up. Jinyoung’s hand shot out to hold onto you and you looked down at his grip, your lips curling up softly. “Stop being so cute, kid.”

Jinyoung felt like one then. He longed for nurture, for immense comfort. He wanted to be smothered and hear words whispered into his ear that he was going to be okay, that he was safe hiding where he was. He could continue then, if you allowed him to cling onto you as he buried himself down into obscurity.

His inner critic mocked him for being so weak and his grip faltered on your wrist. Still, he attempted to hold onto your comfort. “Don’t leave me.”

“Am I even someone you need to stay at your side?” you wondered with another smile, leaning in to brush your lips over his cheek. “You’ve done so well fighting this battle alone.”

“It’s lonely at the top though,” he told you, now desperate. His eyes pleaded with you, and his hand regained some of its grasp. “I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

“I think you’re looking at the wrong version of what you want, Park Jinyoung. You need to find comfort in someone who can stand at your side through it all. And you know her already.”

“I do? Who?”

“Jinyoung? Jinyoung!”

“Stop calling out my name,” he muttered, groaning at the pressure in his head. He held it in his hand for a moment and then when it grew silent around him, he opened his eyes, blinking rapidly in confusion. It only brought on his headache further.

“Oh thank goodness, I thought you would never wake up. Did you have to drink so much?! How do you even get all this alcohol into the office? I never knew you had such a stash.”

Jinyoung slowly blinked now, the two worlds he saw soon becoming one. He stared at you then, trying to decipher why you looked so familiar to the woman in his dreams.

You let out a heavy sigh before coming over to his side. “I know things didn’t go well yesterday but your liver doesn’t deserve this kind of disrespect. And nor do my nostrils. You absolutely reek.”

“Y/N.”

“What?” you bit back, collecting the copious amounts of empty bottles from his desk.

Jinyoung tipped his head to the side, catching it in his hand when it felt too heavy. “Am I in a different universe?”

“What on Earth are you-- is it because I didn’t refer to you politely just now? Well, after all I’ve done for you, seeing you throw yourself into the flames has angered me. Where has my stubborn, meticulous employer gone? Stop selling yourself short.”

“Have you always been this chatty?” he wondered with a smile and you rolled your eyes. He leaned forward in his chair and toppled onto his desk, cringing at his lack of grace right now.

You smirked. “Working as your personal assistant for the last four years, I’ve learned when to hold my tongue.”

“Did you forget how to do that overnight?”

“You stopped caring so someone has to get you back into shape. And fast.”

“Why?” he wondered. Jinyoung had nothing worth fighting for except the urge to keep whatever he had left in his system down. He held his stomach and groaned.

“Whilst you spent the night crying away into your expensive shirt sleeve and sloshing alcohol into your regretful stomach, I’ve been working and I’ve received a call from CEO Hong. Turns out he found you so formidable yesterday that he’s changed his mind.”

“What?!” Jinyoung stood up suddenly, eyes wide with panic. “When is he coming?!”

“In two hours.”

“Y/N, I can’t, I mean I stink like a brewery and oh god, I’m not prepared.”

“Good thing you have me. Go home, take a shower and drink this on the way,” you answered, holding out a remedy for his hangover. “Your driver is ready downstairs and I’ve got a presentation all drafted up. When you’re back you’ll have time to run through it before he gets here.”

Jinyoung stared at you, a slow smile crossing his lips. The version he had seen in his drunken stupor held nothing compared to the woman standing before him now. He moved towards you and you stepped back, causing him to chuckle. “Know that if I was more presentable, I would kiss you.”

“That’s your concern right now? I’m trying to save us!”

“You’ve saved me,” he assured and watched as a flush of pink coloured your cheeks. He grinned, walking towards the exit of his office. “And when I’m done with this meeting, I’m taking you out for dinner.”

“What if I decline?” you questioned with a smile and Jinyoung bit the bottom of his lip briefly.

“Someone told me that it’s all about how you rise up again from your failures. I’ll just have to keep trying.”

“Secure the deal first, Park Jinyoung.”

“And when I’ve got that in the bag?” he asked, feeling confident the more alert he became. He felt more like himself again. “You’re next?”

“You can’t covet me like some deal,” you replied, ushering him out the door.

He did your bidding, only to turn around and enter it again, finding you clutching your chest. Jinyoung grinned. He strode up to you, taking your free hand and held it up to his own chest.  

“You’re right; you’re no deal to me. You’re so much more and if I had to choose between the deal or you, I know which one I never want to fall out of these hands of mine.”

“Oh my God, you’re still drunk! Get going!”

“I’ll prove it to you when sober later!” he called as he headed out of the building again, smiling all the way down to the car waiting for him. He apologised to his driver for how bad he smelt and then settled into his chair, letting out a small laugh.

He didn’t know if it was a dream or an actual parallel universe, but he was certain that even in his weakest moment, he had you pulling him up again.

Deal or not, he wouldn’t fail.

Because he had you.

_________________

All rights reserved © prettywordsyouleft

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[tothestanders]

Trading Places

Summary:

"Why’d you harass me about wanting to play video games instead of talking to my friend? You don’t care about that sort of thing.”

Remus’s grin widened.

“Now Thomas, maybe Remus is turning over a new leaf. In that case, we should celebrate! How about we throw a bunch of Babybel cheese at people’s cars so the wax stains them red in pretty polka dots!

”Thomas stared at Patton. “…That’s vandalism. You want me to vandalize people’s cars?"

Or, Patton and Remus swap roles. It goes about as well as you’d expect.

Warnings: canon-typical Remus language

Read on AO3 here

Thomas’s back ached from being hunched over so long, fingers half numb from hours of button pressing. Thomas hardly noticed. He was only one level away from meeting the final Boss. Weeks of gameplay had been leading up to this moment. All the lost sleep and forgotten meals were about to pay off in the greatest, grandest, most magnificent battle of all time –

Something ringing cut through Thomas’s laser focus, jolting him back to the real world. He frantically groped for the ‘pause’ button before tearing his eyes away to read the caller ID on his phone. A friend from community theater. Thomas was disappointed for a moment that it wasn’t just ignorable spam, then immediately felt guilty. He quickly accepted the call.

“Hey man, what’s up?” he spoke into the phone. “Oh! Free to talk right now?” Thomas glanced longingly at the paused video game. “Um, well…”

“Are you really gonna hang up on your friend for a video game? Wow, Thomas, I didn’t realize you were even more evil than I am.”

Thomas nearly threw his phone in surprise. Next to him on the sofa suddenly sat the Duke, his face shifting between maudlin disappointment and a suppressed grin.

“What the heck, man! Why you gotta pop up in my blind spot like that?” Thomas yelled, putting the phone on mute while noises of confusion came through the speaker.

“Why you gotta be a shitty friend?” Remus replied without missing a beat. “What if they’re in crisis? What if their family just disowned them? What if they lost their job and can’t afford rent or food and have nowhere to go and you were their last option for help and now they’re going to spend the night on the streets and get mugged and then murdered and so eviscerated that they won’t be able to identify the body and he’ll be tossed into a mass grave where he’ll get devoured by worms at age thirty…”

“Oh my God, stop!” Thomas tried to command, to no avail.

“…and then he’ll turn into a zombie with his mind trapped in his rotting brain and forced to watch as his body kills people…”

“I hope your friend is doing all right!” Thomas whirled around to see Patton sitting on his other side, expression sympathetic. He didn’t seem to notice that Remus was there or still talking. Or maybe he was just ignoring him.

“Oh, thank God, Patton. Do you think it’s okay for me to play my video game instead of talking? I’m just so close to the boss battle and I really wanna finish it.”

“Well, I think your pal sounded fine, but better safe than sorry. How about you can finish your game, but first we say something to cheer him up just in case?”

“…and once all his loved ones have been eaten alive his zombie brain will come back to life and have to live with the horror of what he’s done…”

Desperate to get the Duke’s morbid monologue to stop, Thomas rushed to agree. “Yeah, sure. Any ideas?”

“Oh, you know I’ve always got something up my sleeve. A dad joke is never a bad joke!” He paused a second to think. “What has two butts and kills people? An assassin!”

Without a second thought, Thomas lifted the phone back to his face, unmuted it, and repeated the joke. He snorted at his own punchline, mentally congratulating himself on the pun. Then realization set in. Patton seemed to have the same realization, judging by the look of self-directed horror on his face.

The sound of laughter came through the phone. “Sorry, that was kind of a silly one. But glad you liked it,” Thomas said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Listen, I was kinda in the middle of something when you called, but I’d love to catch up later tonight if that works for you?” His friend assured him it was no problem, and after setting up a time to chat later, they hung up.

“What the heck was that?” Thomas said.

“Great teamwork!” Remus chimed, raising a hand to high-five Patton across Thomas’s body. Patton eyed it nervously, then lightly tapped the palm. Then not so subtly wiped his hand on his pants.

“Sorry, kiddo. I didn’t mean to use potty language,” Patton said, shaking his head. “A dad’s gotta set a good example for his kids! Not my best work, huh?”

“Yeah, that was weird,” Thomas said. “But mostly I meant Remus. Why’d you harass me about wanting to play video games instead of talking to my friend? You don’t care about that sort of thing.”

Remus’s grin widened.

“Now Thomas, maybe Remus is turning over a new leaf. In that case, we should celebrate! How about we throw a bunch of Babybel cheese at people’s cars so the wax stains them red in pretty polka dots!”

Thomas stared at Patton. “…That’s vandalism. You want me to vandalize people’s cars? And wouldn’t that probably make dents and break the windows?”

Patton’s face fell into a look of consternation. “Oh, yes, sorry. That would be very inconsiderate. Definitely don’t do that, Thomas. Okay, instead, we can celebrate with food! I think we’ve got eggs, pickles, maple syrup, and coffee in the kitchen. Sounds like the ingredients for a yummy soup.”

“Soup?” Thomas repeated in disbelief.

Patton tilted his head. “Yeah, soup. You know, a liquid you can eat! We could add cinnamon too if you want.”

“I love it, Patton! Look who’s finally not being such a fuddy-daddy,” Remus said, drumming his fingers against his cheek.

Thomas looked rapidly between the two of them. “Okay, is someone going to explain what’s going on here or am I just gonna stay confused?”

“You could’ve skipped all the confusion in the first place if you’d just listened to me earlier. I knew you liked boys by age 6!” Remus answered, and Thomas groaned. But then the Duke let out a long, dramatic sigh and stood, spreading his arms wide. “All right, killjoy. I swapped us, of course!”

“What? You can’t do that!” Patton reprimanded. “You switch back with Thomas right now, mister! This is Thomas Sanders Sides, not Remus Sanders Sides.”

Remus blinked. “Uh, right. No. I swapped our roles, Patton.”

Patton’s eyes widened with realization. “Ohhh. Well that’s much better.” He nodded to himself. Then, “Hey! You switch us back right now, mister!”

“Oopsie doodles, no can doozies. This is way too much fun! Now, Thomas, about your content.” Remus turned to face Thomas, a manic gleam in his eyes. “You really love to coddle your viewers, huh? Do you think they can tell? Do you think they click on your channel and get whacked in the face with the patronizing ooey gooey BS you sprinkle over their dainty little heads? They’re probably devastated you don’t trust them to be able to handle anything more meaningful and substantial than the trite twaddle you call videos.”

Remus pushed up his cheeks with his fists, lower lip jutting out in an exaggerated pout. “Aw, poor babies. Their favorite Youtube star thinks nothing of them. That’s gotta cut like a machete to the heart.”

“Okay! Got it,” Thomas said. “So what I’m hearing is you’re my morality now?” Horror rose in his throat. “And Patton is my bad creativity?” Remus nodded excitedly. Patton looked nauseous. “Why would you do that?” Thomas asked, desperate.

“Oh, it’s simple. Dear Virgie didn’t like the bloody death threat I left on his wall earlier. Talk about not being able to take a joke, amirite?” Patton grimaced at that idea of a ‘joke.’ “Anyway, then he went off about how I’ll” – Remus adopted a mocking, bored tone to accompany his air quotes – “‘never be an important Side’ because I ‘don’t know the difference between right and wrong.’ Blah, blah, blah. But that was just too good of a challenge to pass up!”

“Too good of a challenge…so you’re trying to prove Virgil wrong? By being my morality? ” Thomas clarified in dismay.

“Yep! And proving that I could gain a whole lotta influence real quick if I wanted. Good little Thomas would never repress his moral drive.” Remus smiled sweetly at him.

“Sure, okay. This is not happening.” Thomas turned to Patton. “You’re my real morality. Can’t you, like, take your job back? Please?”

“Afraid not,” the Duke answered for him in a voice dripping with fake sympathy. “Where do you think your Sides comes from, Thomas? We’re figments of your imagination, after all.”

Thomas rested his face in his hand, exhausted by the whole situation. “I’m not following.”

“It’s easy. Imagination is part of creativity.” He did a mirror of Roman’s typical arm flourish at the mention of his function. “Therefore, your creativity created your Sides and is the only thing that can change them as it pleases. As I please.”

“Hold on, does that mean you and Roman are, like, literally everyone else’s dads?” Thomas asked.

“Hey now, kiddo. Don’t go stealing my kids out from under me,” Patton said, pointing a stern finger.

“Don’t worry, I’m a deadbeat dad!” Remus replied. Then his expression turned thoughtful. It was the most terrifying thing Thomas had ever seen. “Huh, isn’t it interesting that we’re figments of your imagination but also kinda not? I mean, we’ve got thoughts and feelings of our own. Yet our whole existence revolves around you.” Thomas braced, not sure where this was going but sure it wasn’t anywhere good. “You call all the shots about what we do, and if one of us wants to do something? Well, better pimp yourself out to get on the Big Daddy’s good side –”

“What?!”

“– and hope he graciously agrees. No autonomy for us. Just wasting away in your brain while you fuck around with the body. Male privilege? Please, let’s talk corporeal privilege, Thomas.”

Remus’s tone stayed casual, gaze idly wandering as he thought aloud. But the wave of guilt that came with his words was enough to nearly knock Thomas over, and made his eyes sting with tears. The Duke actually had a point. Was Thomas a terrible person? Oh, God. Was he abusing his Sides?

“Okay, kiddo.” Patton said, holding out his hands in a pacifying gesture. “That’s some pretty heavy stuff. Let’s not get carried away, all right? Don’t worry Thomas, we love being part of your amazing head!”

“Did someone say amazing head? I was wondering when you’d ask –”

Thomas closed his eyes. He could not deal with this. His Morality was suggesting crime, his Bad Creativity was giving him intrusive guilt, except all that was actually the other way around, now. Too much chaos, too many moral crises jam packed into ten minutes, too much Remus. Frankly, at this point he was just surprised Virgil hadn’t popped up to yell at him yet. Thomas was considering just getting up and walking away, irrationally hoping that no one would follow, when he remembered something.

“Wait a second. You said only Creativity could switch you guys back, right?”

“Yeppers! And don’t bother calling Roman, he’s still black and blue from reading Youtube comments earlier,” Remus replied cheerfully. Thomas made a mental note to check on Roman once all this was done.

“But you switched roles with Patton,” he continued, frown sliding into a sly smile. “Which means that Patton is now my Creativity – well, part of it, anyway. Which means he can switch you back!” Thomas turned eagerly to his father figure figment.

“Ah, I’m not so sure about that, kiddo.” Patton’s eyes were wide as saucers. “What if tapping into a” – his voice fell to a whisper – “dark power turns me evil. Like Ursula from A Little Mermaid.”

“Is that Ursula’s backstory?” Thomas asked curiously.

“No, actually! The real one is much better,” Remus said. “She almost got burned alive when her village figured out she was part octopus. Good thing her dear brother rescued her. Oh, except he thought she was a monster too, so he banished her to the cesspit of the sea.” Remus’s enthusiastic tone only made his darkened expression the more unnerving.

Thomas shifted uneasily. Once again, he was reminded just how much he didn’t know about what went on in his own head. But then again, Remus had told him, hadn’t he?

The unloved brother from the Genesis.

He began to spiral back down Remus’s guilt trip about responsibility to his Sides. Thankfully his thoughts were interrupted by Patton. “Aw, poor thing! People can be meaner than a bully burning a baby bunny in a Satanic ritual.” What? “Uh, I mean! A stuffed bunny. Anyway, I hope Ursula is okay now.”

“Nope, she died,” Remus informed him. Patton’s lip started to wobble.

“So that’s good news!” Thomas butted in before things could get any more derailed. He’d have time later to worry about sibling rivalry and possible injustice among figments of his imagination. “I mean, Ursula didn’t turn evil from using dark magic. So Patton has nothing to worry about. I’m sure everything will be fine.”

“I don’t know…”

“Please, I need my good old morality back. No one else can beat the top pop.” Thomas smiled at the giggle that got.

“Oh, all right. I’ll give it the old college try.”

Thomas sighed in relief and watched as Patton squeezed his eyes and fists tight, brow furrowing in intense concentration. A moment later he cracked an eye open. “Did it work?”

“I don’t know, tell a joke!” Thomas urged.

“Um…oh! Why can’t a nose be twelve inches long? Because then it’d be a foot!”

Thomas groaned, but he was smiling. Finally, his Sides were back to normal.

“Or my dick!” Remus chirped.

Yeah, normal. The thought was far fonder than it had any right to be.

“See, Patton? There was nothing to worry about. No spooky magical corruption – hey what’s up with your logo?” Thomas pointed at the heart on Patton’s shirt. It had turned upside down, its shape now looking a lot like…well.

Remus gasped in delight. “Awesome! Taking style inspiration from your favorite Creativity, I see.”

“You’re not my favorite Creativity,” Patton said, and Thomas couldn’t help his flinch. But then, “I can’t play favorites with my kids! You’re all perfect just the way you are.”

The side-eye Remus gave Patton was truly impressive. “Perfect, huh? Even when I do this?” Suddenly he was holding what looked kinda like a bouquet of pale, bloody flowers. Then Thomas spotted the fingernails. He watched as the entire handful of severed fingers slid down Remus’s throat and disappeared with a loud slurp.

“Of course!” Patton replied, seemingly unfazed. “No matter what you do, you’re still famILY.”

Okay, that was weird. Patton, not bothered by that sickening gesture? But wait a second – was it sickening? Strangely enough, Thomas found he wasn’t all that bothered by it either. Like some of his aversion to Remus had faded.

The suspicious look didn’t leave Remus’s face, but something about him seemed…calmer, than it had a minute ago. Softer.

Patton looked back at his shirt with a puzzled expression. “That’s funny, I could’ve sworn the heart was right-side up. Maybe I need new glasses!”

“I wouldn’t call that a heart anymore. It’s totally a pair of dingle-dangles.”

“A what?” Thomas said, unable to believe the Duke had actually used a euphemism. And a downright cutesy one, at that. His gaze fell to Remus’s belt.

“My eyes are up here, you saucy minx. And here,” Remus added, pointing to the eyeball on his shoulder.

“No, look,” Thomas said, pointing to the logo on the belt buckle. The crescent moon at the top seemed to have morphed into a smiley face.

Thomas head swiveled between the smiley face and the – uh, inverted heart – several times. He thought back to what Patton had been worried about. Lasting effects of the role reversal. Oh no.

Patton and Remus, both still engrossed by their changed logos, seemed to have the same thought. In voices heavy with resignation, all three of them spoke at the same time.

“Aw, butts.”

[himbowelsh]

25 for the intimacy prompts and andyeddie? Id youre ok with pacific characters of course :)

intimacy prompts  ( accepting! )

25.  dancing

highkey this is my first time ever writing them, and i’m not sure i got their characterization down, but i was excited  ---

A pub in central Melbourne, just skirting the heart of the nightlife district — it stands to reason on a night like this, it wouldn’t be empty.

Still, Andy hadn’t expected just how crowded it would be. Every marine and their brother, it seems, is taking advantage of their temporary leave. Not all of them have passes, no doubt, but they’ve all slipped out tonight to enjoy themselves... Melbourne is a completely foreign city, where none of the locals know their names, and there are so many uniformed men about that it’s easy to melt into a crowd. There’s no better place to get lost.

“I think,” he remarks over the deafening band, passing Eddie a fresh drink, “we should try to find another place.”

“What?” Eddie hollers back — or so Andy gathers from the motion of his mouth. The actual sound is swept away in the crowd.

“I said we should go somewhere else!”

“Yeah!” Eddie nods enthusiastically, though one look at his face let’s Andy know he didn’t pick up a word. His eyes glitter with amusement, mouth tight at the corners like he’s fighting back a grin. “You sure are, Skipper!”

“You need to work on your lip reading,” Andy declares.

“Good drink!” says Eddie, and takes a sip to prove it. 

Andy nurses his own beer, leaning his weight back on his heels as he surveys the chaotic crowd. It must be a fire hazard, so many men packed in here... they’re practically body to body on the dance floor, bashing into each other with every wild swing step. This is a recipe for a brawl. Say a few hot-bloods look at each other the wrong way after a few pints too many... but for now, it’s peaceful. Chaos, sure, but a kind of peaceful chaos. The kind that two officers, passes in their pockets and the ability to look the other direction, have no need to break up at the moment.

Instead, Andy soaks in the pulsing music, and the familiar presence of Eddie at his shoulder. Eddie’s always there; he’s the most consistent thing in this entire, chaotic war, and Andy depends on him as much here as he does in combat. A dance hall is a battle field of a different kind. While becoming familiar with one, Andy’s fallen out of practice with the other; it’s been a long time since he was out dancing.

There were dances aplenty back at Bowdoin. Andy never missed a single one, but it wasn’t out of real desire; as  football captain, it was simply expected of him. He couldn’t let the team down; even when forced to turn down invitation after invitation, from girls with rouge on their lips and hope in their eyes, he always felt a pang of regret. Most of the time, they were mere acquaintances; he could never understand why they pinned their hopes on a date with him, but they always seemed to wilt at his inevitable response. Andy was not a man for swinging and revelry. He never... felt inclined. Same for the cheerleaders who blew kisses across the practice field, or the sweet girls in short skirts who served the team refreshments during the games. Andy attended each party because it was expected of him, but he never put any more of himself into it. He smiled, he was polite, and went home at the end of the night usually-sober, with plans for the next day’s practice running through his head.

“A naturalborn captain,” one of his teammates teased him, “but a hell of a bore at parties.”

Maybe so. Andy isn’t entirely sure what he’s even doing here, out on the town tonight. It hadn’t been his first idea... but Eddie suggested, insisted, and he’s learned in a very short time that he’s awful at denying Eddie anything.

A weight presses against his arm, and Eddie murmurs over the crowd, something Andy doesn’t catch. When Andy turns to look at him, Eddie’s closer, craning towards Andy’s ear. They end up almost nose to nose, and Andy chuckles after a beat, leaning back.

He expects Eddie to echo his earlier suggestion, eager to make themselves scarce. Instead, he’s surprised. “How ‘bout a dance?”

Andy spins back around. This time, it’s his turn to mouth, “What?”

“A dance!” Either Eddie’s better at shouting over a crowd, or Andy’s suddenly so alert he can make out every word. It helps that Eddie’s miming the motions as he speaks them. He’d make a terrible mime.

Andy casts a glance around, hoping the distraction masks his obvious reluctance. To his relief, there are no free partners in sight. Every single woman has been claimed by a marine already... and there are about three men in the pub to each woman, so the ratio is skewed. Most of the men who haven’t been able to find a partner are crowded around the edges of the room, drinking and talking among themselves. The girls are busy in the center of the room, flitting from Marine to Marine with each song. If they want to claim a partner for the next dance, they’ll probably have to get in line.

If he wanted to disguise his hesitance, relief is no doubt clear in his eyes when he turns back to Eddie. “There’re no partners,” he replies, gesturing around them for emphasis. “Afraid we can’t do it.”

“Funny,” says Eddie, and Andy only catches the words because he’s watching him so raptly. “I’ve never known you to be afraid of anything.”

Nothing in the world, from gunfire in the rainforests to corpses piling on a white sand beach, can stop Andy in his tracks as neatly as that stare. Eddie stares like he knows something you don’t, and wants to make sure you at least know that much, even if he’s got no intention of letting you in on the secret. Sometimes Eddie’s stares are promises... and sometimes they leave Andy feeling cursed. It’s hard to tell what this one means, but it sets every last of his nerves alight, vibrating with a nervous energy that he’s only ever felt before a big game or battle.

Why the hell is Eddie looking at him like that?

Maybe he misheard, or misread the motion of Eddie’s lips. That’d explain it. Andy take comfort in that thought, and another long sip of beer. It chills his insides, offering him an alternative to the sweltering Melbourne night. Part of him hopes it will deliver him from Eddie too... but when he looks over again, the other man is still watching him, intent as ever.

He could come up with something smart to say, but the effect’s lost when you can barely hear yourself think. He could try to lure a girl off the dance floor, even if it means they have to share her. He could take the lead out of the pub, trusting Eddie to follow at his heels, like he can always be counted on to do.

Instead, Andy holds out a hand — and, before Eddie can process it, takes his friend’s in his own. “Alright,” he says. “Let’s dance.”

Eddie’s gaze lingers on their joined hands for a few seconds, and Andy sees the question there... but then Eddie looks up, and his face is set, and he’s wearing that familiar determination. Something in Andy gets stronger too, strong enough to pull Eddie out into the sea of dancers.

Whatever tune the band’s struck up, it’s a roaring good time. When carried by such lovely music, it’s impossible to hold still; in the midst of a sea of people spinning and swinging, Andy and Eddie are forced closer. For a moment, it feels like all eyes are on them — two officers, two men dancing with each other in public — but Andy doesn’t have to look hard to realize they’re not the only ones. A number of guys have joined up with each other, in lieu of female company. On a night like this, with drinks flowing and music playing, it’d be a shame to not enjoy it.

Eddie certainly is. His earlier miming did absolutely no credit to his dancing skill; he’s light on his feet, moving with a grace few people in the hall, even the ladies, can mimic. He more than makes up for Andy’s clumsiness. When Andy sways, uncertain of the steps, Eddie shows him; a twist here, a turn there, take a step here just to avoid being slammed into by another couple... honestly, most of the dance is just trying to avoid crashing into other people, but the longer they go on, the more Andy finds — to his own surprise — that he’s having fun.

Eddie’s wearing his grin again — that restrained, close-lipped smile, teasing at something more without ever really revealing it. He’s good at that, leaving Andy wondering. He wonders where Eddie learned to dance... wonders if this is his first time dancing with a man. Eddie slips into leading so naturally that he must be accustomed to female partners... but Andy, never a natural on his feet, does not mind being led. It’s so much easier to follow in Eddie’s wake, focusing only on his smile and the light touch of his hands on his forearms. He moves them both along. Andy trusts in him with every step, and Eddie returns it threefold every time they avoid crashing into another dancing couple.

“You’ve got a talent,” Andy declares after the first song fades away into a slower second. There’s no need to mime; they’re close enough to hear each other over the din.

“Don’t go complimenting me now,” Eddie replies. “I’ll get all bashful.”

“That would be a shame. We’re getting along so well, this far.” 

“I’ve gotta tell you, Skipper...” Eddie leans in closer, and it feels intimate somehow, the way his words graze Andy’s cheek. “You’re a fine date, but a shit dancer.”

“And you’re a gentleman, clearly.” Andy fights back a laugh as he leans back, unwilling to give Eddie the satisfaction. His cheeks feel warm, but that could be the drinks, or the crowd, or the exertion... a thousand excuses that don’t involve Eddie’s rough hand, so gentle around his wrist. “You know this song?” he asks, eager for a distraction.

“A bit. Heard it on the radio, but never tried to play it myself before.” Eddie’s lips twitch. “My old girl’s not much for love songs. She gets jealous.”

Andy’s struck dumb, in the few seconds it takes to realize Eddie’s not talking about a girlfriend back home, but his much-doted-on guitar. Talk about the love of a man’s life. “That’s a shame. You treat her so well.”

“Sure, but I’ve never danced with her like this. She’d be snapping her strings with jealousy about now.”

Andy can’t help chuckling. For a moment, his gaze flutters away... but when it strays back, Eddie is still watching him, with an expression on his face Andy can’t hope to decode. The curve of his lips is an enigma. That brightness in his eyes, flaring and crackling like firecrackers on the Fourth of July, draws Andy in and refuses to let him go.

He’s making more of this than it is. Were there other options, a beautiful woman at hand, Eddie would not be dancing with him. That dark gaze would be sparkling at someone else, that smirk reserved for another person’s pleasure. Whatever hum of exhilaration buzzes in the pit of Andy’s stomach, there’s no good reason for it… because whatever this is, it’s not intimacy. It isn’t theirs.

“I see,” Eddie says, and Andy’s attention is jerked rapidly back to the present. “You’re caught up in your own head. Even while dancing. No wonder you’ve stepped on my toes twice now.”

“Have I?” He hadn’t noticed. Andy’s alarmed to realize how close he came to doing it a third time, but when he looks up, Eddie looks painfully tolerant.

“I’ve had worse.”

“Not from me.”

“Nah.” Eddie’s eyes soften. “But if I win a Purple Heart for dancing with my captain, I’m not inclined to turn it down.”

Maybe that’s what this is to Eddie — a favor. Maybe he just thought Andy needed the release of a dance so desperately that it was worth biting the bullet himself. Would he have come out tonight, were Andy not with him? Would he be enjoying himself more?

Something in his face must falter, because Eddie catches it. A line appears between his brows as they draw together; a second later, he turns them both, Andy drawn along by the momentum. He almost loses his footing, but Eddie’s grip on his upper arm steadies him. He ends up half-braced against the other man; as he straightens up, he unconsciously leans into Eddie’s chest.

“Now, don’t think I’m trying to sweep you off your feet or anything…”

Andy draws back to blink at him.

“Because I’m not.” Oh yes, Eddie is inappropriately amused now. He's finding this entire situation hilarious. While his lieutenant’s sense of humor occasionally soars three feet to the left of Andy’s head, he can never resent it. Not in the face of that smirk, or the way Eddie’s eyes gleam like turquoise gems buried in the sand. Even if it’s at his expense… Andy would like to see Eddie happy forever.

“You’re hardly courting me,” Andy replies with a restrained smirk of his own, as they spin out of the path of several more couples. “We’re just dancing.”

“Completely casual thing for men to do in a time of war.”

“I prefer this sort of dance to one with a dagger at my throat.”

Eddie’s gaze seems to linger on his throat for too long, but Andy can’t be certain. His heart is pounding so hard, it’s drowning out the music. Can’t Eddie hear it? Can’t he feel it?

To distract from his own anxiety, Andy gives Eddie a short tug. It nearly takes him off his feet; Eddie huffs in surprise, steadying them both with the casual grace that never fails him. His hand trails down Andy’s arm as they sway in time to the music. It’s absurd how breathless Andy feels. They’re not dancing that hard; he’s got no excuse.

“Out of breath, Skipper?” A glaze of concern masks the obvious tease. “We can sit, if you need to.”

“After just one dance?” Andy crooks an eyebrow. “I’d be disappointed in myself.”

Eddie’s hand finds purchase on his elbow and stays there, guiding them both along. Andy’s own hand came to rest somewhere on his shoulders, but they wander as if they’ve got a will of their own. He doesn’t realize he’s touching the muscles of Eddie’s back until his dance partner shifts against him, rolling his shoulders in time with the music. Andy jumps, and begins to move on instinct… but Eddie’s grip on his arm tightening urges him to stay.

“So long as you’re alright,” Eddie says, holding his eye for a beat too long. Andy stares back at him; somewhere deep down, a well of resilience he hadn’t realized he possessed, the same one that got him through Guadalcanal unbroken, forces its way upwards. He nods, jaw setting, and a tension in Eddie’s face melts away.

“Alright, then.” He looks relaxed — truly relaxed, for the first time since they got here, and it can’t be blamed on the drink alone… Andy’s heart stutters in his chest at the way his Lieutenant smiles, and he finds himself grinning back. Eddie Jones in peacetime is handsomer than any white-sand beach of glittering coastline this part of the world can provide. He’s all those things and more, rolled into an impeccably competent package, and Andy’s holding him in his arms.

To think, just a month ago, neither of them thought they’d make it off that island in one piece. Who could have imagined this?

Here and now, with Eddie leading them both along to the music, Andy feels… content. Content, maybe, for the first time since this entire war began — happier than he’s been since finding Eddie alive after a brutal firefight, when reports first pinned him as KIA, happier than he was seeing Eddie emerge from those jungles, mud-splattered but whole. This sort of war doesn’t allow men much happiness. If they find it here, in a last-resort dance that might mean everything or nothing at all…

Well, Andy will settle. He’s gotten good at that.

“When’s the last time you danced?” Eddie inquires, leaning in to murmur the words in his low, husky tone.

Andy doesn’t lean back. Instead, he lets his answer brush Eddie’s cheek as he replies. “This is a first for me.” His hand steadies itself on Eddie’s back, the other running slowly up his arm. The other man relaxes against his touch. Andy smiles. “And I’ve got to say… it’s a dance to remember.”

[jj-lynn21]

Cozy Cove: Old wounds

Previous in Cozy Cove: Saved by an Angel ,   A side of tits with your pancakes,   Fires Burn Ho , Spending the Nights, Learning and Loving,   The end id not always the end,  Axel Grease ,  Big Decisions, Sex and Jet Skis, Late night fun ,  Old Wounds , Storms pass, Dangerous Waters

Warnings: smut talk, very angsty, talk of a parent leaving children, fear of alcohol abuse. 

A silver of afternoon bright sunshine snakes its way through where the blackout curtains come together. It beamed right on to still sleeping Axel and Susie. She further buries her face in Axel’s chest.

He snorts covering his eyes with his free hand. The other resting on her back, “Close the curtain, baby girl.”

Susie whines without moving.

“I got it Mr. Axel,” Carol whispered. “Rest as long as you need, I will clean quietly.”

“Thanks, Carol,” Axel mumbled. “Put coffee on?”

“Of course, Sir,” She picked up some cloths on the floor and put them in his dirty cloths basket to go do laundry. 

A half hour later, the couple woke slowly to the smell of coffee. Susie stretched rolling to her other side. Axel kissed her shoulder softly before getting up, grabbing some cloths and heading to the shower. The hot water felt amazing as he stood there with his head down, palms flat against the wall, as the water beats over him.  

The door slides open for Susie to get in with him. She wraps her arms around him and lays on his back. Axel stands. He turns towards her smiling down as droplets of water tumble off his hair, down his nose to the tip of hers.

“How are you doing this morning Babe?” He grabs a shampoo bottle squirting some in his palm. “Turn around.” He starts to wash her hair.  

Susie turned closing her eyes as she leaned her head back a bit for Axel to wash her hair. “I’m a little sort, Daddy.” She muttered.  

Axel grinned, “Not when anyone is in the house Babe. That little game is between you and me. Would you like to have an interview for that mechanics job you want? We can make it like a game.” He rinses her hair and adds conditioner combing it out gentle.

“Yes, I would love that.” She smiles wide keeping her eyes shut as Axel rinses her hair. “Only I don’t think of that as a game, Axel. An interview with any company is to be taken seriously.”

“Maybe you are always to Serious Susie Q, but I guess I will find that out in a few hours.” He washes every part of her.

Susie giggles, “I am perfectly capable of washing myself, Axel.”

“I know,” he smiled. “I just like to take care of you if it is alright?”

“I guess it’s fine,” She turned as he rinsed her with the handheld shower head.  

“Now go get a nice sundress on,” He opened the back of the shower door. “I believe Carol has coffee, donuts, and fruit for us to have for breakfast. She always has good treats when she comes to clean.”  

He stays in the shower to wash when she gets out. She does what he tells her without a second thought. Her only thoughts were how nice it felt for him to get her clean and of course, coffee. When Susie ventures out to the kitchen she saw to coffee mugs, a basket of fruit and box. On further inspection she looks in the clear window at the top of the box to see a myriad of donut holes in a variety of flavors.  

Carol rushes over to pour her some coffee, “Good morning Miss. Do you like the flavored creamer that is in the refrigerator?”

“Thank you, Carol,” She smiles. “I would like the creamer. You can call me Susie.”

“Sure thing, Miss Susie.” She gets the creamer and pours it until Susie holds her hand up to stop.  

Axel Comes out in Camo board shorts drying his hair with a towel. As soon as Carol sees him, she pours his coffee, adds a little sugar to it before starting back to straighten up the bedroom.

“Thank you, Carol,” Axel yells after her. “We will be out of your hair for a few hours after breakfast.”

“You are welcome Mr. Axel,” She rambled, “You need to eat more. You are to thin.”

“If you say so Carol.” Axel laughed, “Carol has been the family housekeeper as long as I can remember. She also took care of me and my brother Josh when my mom,” He looked down fidgeting with his fingers before taking a sip of coffee. “When she left us.” He popped a sprinkle covered donut hole in his mouth.

“I’m sorry, Axel.” Susie took his hand from across the table. “Can I ask what happened? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want.”

Axel shrugged, “I was about thirteen and saw how my Mom was kind of flirty with guys other than my Dad. It was disgusting. I think her leaving was the best thing that ever happened to him. But he was pretty pissed when I told him that.  

“Josh was only eight. He cried a lot for a few weeks as far I remember. He needed a Mother. Carol tried her best to fill the void. Eric was trying to get a degree in something when she left. I can’t remember what. I just remember he came home on break and never went back. Dad was disappointed. I was happy. My mom couldn’t embarrass me when she hit on my teachers.” He popped another donut hole.

Susie ate a strawberry cream filled and sipped her coffee not sure what to say. Her parents never seemed to notice anyone else but each other. And they could sometimes be amorous in public which was embarrassing for her. It was embarrassing for her now. It was ten times worse when she was thirteen. But She didn’t think it was nearly as embarrassing as Axel’s situation.

“How about we take a walk on the beach,” He sighed. “The ocean air always clears my head in the morning. Then I’ll take you to the garage to do that interview. I don’t think you are dressed correctly for an interview, but I’ll let that slide since I told you what to wear and you look fine as Hell.”

“I guess it pays to know the owner,” She giggled. “If you give me the mechanics job,” She picked up another donut hole licking the glaze off before slowing sucking it into your mouth to eat. “I’ll give you another kind of job.”

“Hell no,” Axel got up. “That would be sexual harassment Miss. We don’t play with rules laid out against such things at my garage. That is the worst interview tactic you can have in this day and age, Susie Q. I hope that isn’t your usual interview technique.”

She blushes, “No, of course not Axel. I was just kind of joking.”

“I take my business serious,” He leans down to her ear. “Also fuck jobs. So, one does not mix with the other. Unless my girlfriend wants to suck my cock during my break.” He grins. “Let’s go.”  

They walk out down the back stairs to the beach. The sun is blazing. The farther they walk the more sun bathers and families liter the beach with their towels, blankets, chairs and umbrellas. Axel and Susie ignore it all as they walk together silently for a while.  

“Axel,” Susie keeps walking with him as they talk.

“Yeah?” He picks her hand up to kiss it gentle. Some waves splash over their feet.

“I’m sorry your Mother left you when you needed her.” She squeaked out quietly.

“I never needed shit from her,” Axel grumbled. A small tear escaped his right eye.  “I just feel bad for Josh. Him being upset was worse than her leaving. But we all got over it. No use talking about her anymore, alright?”

“Okay,” Susie leaned on him as he put his arm around her shoulders. “Just know I’ll listen if you ever need too...”

“I won’t, so just drop it,” he growled before taking a deep breath to calm down. “Let’s grab a pineapple rum slushy at the snack house. Then walk back to get the bike. You have an important interview in about an hour.”  

“Your right; I do.” Susie Beamed. “Should I be drinking before my interview?”

“These aren’t very strong,” He gets up to the outdoor counter. “Can we get two spiked pineapple slushies?”

“Sure thing, Axel,” The counter person said. “I am bringing my viper in for a tune up tomorrow. Will you be working?”

“No, I’m off this weekend, Dwayne but Danny is excellent.” Axel praises his worker. “He will have your motorcycle running perfectly when he is done.”

“Cool man, thanks.” Dwayne hands them their drinks.

“Thanks for keeping everyone cool with these drinks,” Axel raises his drink to Dwayne before walking off with Susie.

They walked back on the edge of the even more crowded beach and ocean entrance. They had drunk their slushies by the time they got to his motorcycle.

“I haven’t walked the beach to get a slushy since I was a kid,” Axel smiled. “Of course, in those days I didn’t get the extra kick. Not that this has much of a kick.” He got on his ride. “Let’s go baby girl.”

She crossed her arms and shook her head, “No, I know you said there wasn’t much rum in that, but I could taste it. I’m not sure you should be driving.”  

“Really?” Axel glared. “Just get on the fucking bike. I’m fine. The legal limit here is 08% blood alcohol. According to intoxalock.com it takes about five drinks an hour for someone my weight to reach a .08%. I had a dash of rum. I don’t drink more than one drink of any kind if I am going to drive. I won’t put in us in danger like that.”

She stands there staring at him without budging.

“I can’t believe you don’t trust me.” He gets back off the bike.

“I trust you fine Axel,” She bites her bottom lip nervously. “I just don’t trust the alcohol in your system”

“Yeah, that isn’t a thing.” He grabs her upper arm. “I have no problem taking a fucking breathalyzer test at the Lifeguard stand.

His temper flared as they made their way to the closest Lifeguard tower. “ Hey Roni, you have a minute to prove to my girl one fucking rum slushy doesn’t make me to drunk to drive. She doesn’t fucking trust my word. Sorry wrong words. She doesn’t trust the fucking alcohol.” Axel smirks.

She looks down at Axel and Susie. He looks pissed. Susie has tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She tries not to let it show how upset she is about the situation.  

“I just...” Susie starts.

“I don’t need to hear anything but a sorry from you, young lady,” Axel chides.

“Um yeah Axel,” Roni hoped down from her tower. “But give the girl a break, would you.”

Axel glared, “test, please.”

She gets the test out of her bag, “I think you know how to blow in this.”

Axel nods. “I’m ready.”

Roni puts the breathalyzer between Axel’s lips. Hits a button, “Now, blow, blow, blow, blow, and … your good.” She shows the results to Axel and Susie. “You are at .005. Your fine Axel. Susie, Axel can actually drink a few drinks in an hour and still drive fine. But I know he doesn’t. You want to check yours?”

“Yeah, make sure your judgement isn’t impaired to judge me,” Axel mumbles.

Susie rolls her eyes, “fine, I’ll do it to.”  

“Okay then Susie,” Roni wipes the mouthpiece with an alcohol pad before putting it in Susie's mouth. “blow, blow, blow, blow, and … your good.” She shows the results. “You are .07. Your quite a light weight.” She laughs. “Still you would pass a test. But Axel is driving, right?”

“Yes, I am,” Axel said proudly. “Thank you, Roni. You going to the garage with me still Susie Q.?”  

Axel and Susie start walking away.

“Of course, I am,” Susie assured him. “I still have an important interview, don’t I?”

“Yeah, if you don’t think you drank too much to deal with it?” Axel smirked.

“I’m sorry, Daddy.” She whined.

Axel got on his motorcycle and revved the engine waiting for her to get on. “I think a little girl that acts like you have today needs punished, but we will discuss that later.”

He speeds off cutting through the late afternoon traffic like it didn’t even exist. Susie held tight around him thinking she would almost fall off as they leaned into a sharp turn nearly touching the ground. He skids into his packing spot In front of the garage.  

Axel sets up the kicks stand before getting off. “Give me five minutes before knocking on my office door.”

“I can do that,” Susie said meekly. She waited as instructed before heading into the garage with a smile plastered on her face. She nodded to the guys fixing a few cars and scrubbing down the place like their life depended on it. She knocked on the office door.

Axel answered the door with a clip board in hand, “Good afternoon Miss,” he looked at the clipboard. “Quinnby. You’re a little late.”

Susie was more nervous than she had ever been in an interview. “I’m sorry, I...”

Axel put his hand up to stop her as he sat down. “It says her you have some technical training in auto mechanics. What kinds of vehicles have you worked on?”

“I worked in a group on a few different cars and a truck,” She answered crossing her legs at the ankle. “I know I can learn a lot here.”

“I’m sure you could,” He leaned back clasping his hands behind his head. “Tell me what you like to do for fun?”  

“I read.’ She wasn’t sure why the question was significant, but it had been asked of her before in interviewed. “I have been reading mechanics journals and magazines and learning about water sports.”

“What is the most interesting article you have read?” Axel prodded.

“They are all fascinating,” She fidgeted a little.

“Oh yeah?” He smirked. “What article was the most interesting?”

“I read Popular Mechanics and Rider.” She pauses. “There was a cool article on fuel efficient High Mileage Carburetors. And an older article that talked about a guy who built a carburetor for his sedan which vaporized the fuel and enabled his V8 to get over 100 mpg.”  

Axel nodded and got up, “Thank you Miss Quinnby. I have many applicants to see but I will call you if you get the job here.”

Susie got up as Axel opened the door for her to leave, “Your welcome Mr. Cluney.” She walked out thinking Axel would follow her. He shut the door behind her instead leaving her a little baffled.  

Inside the room Axel’s anger raged as he mumbled to himself. “fucking can’t trust me but wants to hide out here and expects a fucking job...” He punches his fist against the wall a few times. Blood ran from his knuckles. “Can’t fucking believe females. Fucking whores to get what they want. Expect me to just forgive and forget all their treachery.” He banged his head against the wall and screamed. “FUCK I AM MORON FOR TRUSTING ANYONE!”  

When Axel doesn’t come out for a few minutes, she tries to go back in. The door is locked, so she calls out, “Axel?”  

Axel splashes some water on his face. He took a few deep breaths as he walked to the door opening it, “I’m fine. Let’s get you a ticket back home or wherever you want to go but here. Here is not the place for you to hide.”

Susie’s mouth dropped open as Axel brushed past her without a look. She followed him without a sound waiting for a better time to ask him, what the hell he is thinking.  

“Danny, Dwayne is bringing his Viper in tomorrow for a tune up. Buff out any scratches he has on the house.” Axel ordered. “I told him you would do it since you’re my best mechanic when I’m not here.”  

The other guys scoffed at Axel’s remark. Axel glared, “Anyone have an opinion they want to share just step right up.” They all turned back to what they were doing. “Yeah, that’s what I fucking thought.” Axel gets on his motorcycle. He waits impatiently for Susie.  

She comes out, “Axel, what’s going on? You are obviously upset.”

“No more fucking public displays.” He revved the motor. “You want to talk you come with me now.”

“But I think you are too upset to drive,” Susie squeaked.

“Of course, you do,” Axel sped off yelling, “You know where I live.”

[afictionaladventure16]

Okay but number 13 would be amazing with honestly any of the avengers, but I feel the ones who would be best would be either Tony or Steve. I kinda want to put someone else in the light tho, you know? Maybe Sam, Bucky, or even Bruce. Honestly id take any of them, but i know you can definitely make this prompt amazing. Including if you dont do character and do the actors instead.

Code Green (Bruce Banner x Teen!Fem!Reader)

A/N: Soo, wasn’t sure if you wanted me to do Tony or Steve but then I think you said I could do any of the ones you mentioned above so I chose Bruce because I have yet to write a fic for him and I’ve been kind of obsessed with Bruce lately soo… hope you enjoy! 

Avengers Masterlist

Character Taglist

Warnings: arguments

Word Count: 952

13. Person A: “You’re not my parent!” Person B: “No, but I’m the closest thing you have to one!” 

“And it seems that the vigilante is leaving some sort of mark on the walls next to the criminals she has captured,” the news anchor announced as a photo of what seems to be a Jewelry store robber with his arms tied behind his back as he sat down against a wall with an all too familiar logo spread on the wall.

Tony sighed heavily as he turned off the T.V. looking over at Bruce who felt dumbfounded by what he just saw, “well?” Tony said as he gestured for Bruce to say something.

“Why are you looking at me?”

“Why else? You’re practically the kid’s father,” Tony advised.

Bruce stared at the dark screen of the T.V. thinking to himself about what Tony just said. You did trust Bruce the most out of the whole team. Bruce was the one you went to for anything, even with personal problems. He let out a sigh before getting off the couch, “I’ll talk to her.”

~

You had just gotten out of the shower after your latest vigilante spree, you turned on the T.V. to watch the ten o’clock news. You plopped down on your bed as you listened to the news anchor talk about the unknown vigilante. You couldn’t help but giggle at the words he used to describe you.

The sound of a knock caused you to sit up in your bed, “it’s me,” you heard Bruce say from the other side of the door.

You quickly turned off the T.V. “come in,” you announced as you got off your bed.

Bruce made walked into your room, closing the door behind him, “Hey,” he said with a smile, “can we talk?”

“Uh-sure,” you felt a bit nervous, all the things you had done wrong started to go through your mind. Bruce gestured for you to sit down as he sat down on the edge of your bed. “Is this because of my grades?”

“No,” Bruce quickly said, “wait, what about your grades?”

Your eyes widen, “uhhhh, nothing,” you said as you avoided eye contact.

He sighed, ignoring your comment, “I know you’re the vigilante.”

You laughed, “what? Me? The vigilante?”

“Don’t.” Bruce let out a heavy sigh, “I’ve seen you draw that logo many times, Y/N.”

You sighed, “shit.”

“Do you know how much you’ve put yourself in danger?!” Bruce stood up, “what if you got hurt!?”

“I was careful,” you defended.

“Careful!? That’s not good enough, Y/N! You still could’ve gotten hurt and none of us would’ve known!”

“I’m just trying to be what you all expect of me!”

“What we expect is for you to be properly trained and ready! Not to be some kid who thinks they can save the whole damn world!” You started to notice hints of green in Bruce’s skin, “because you can’t save the whole damn world, Y/N! Not by yourself anyway!”

Bruce began to breathe heavily, “Code Green!” You yelled as you stood up.

“I know, I know,” Bruce whispered as he sat down on your desk chair, he took a few seconds to calm down.

“The big guy likes me,” you quietly commented as you sat back down on your bed, “sometimes I think he likes me better than everyone else.”

“You know that’s not true,” Bruce said, “We all love you, Y/N.” He sighed again, “you shouldn’t have done it, Y/N, you could’ve gotten badly hurt or even worse.”

“You’re not my parent!” You yelled in frustration

“No, but I’m the closest thing you have to one!” Bruce yelled back, he could feel the big guy wanting to break free. Bruce let out a deep breath, “sometimes I have to remind myself that you’re actually not my kid.” Bruce chuckles, “I just want you to be safe and all this vigilante stuff… I know you want to make the city safer but you can’t do it alone. I won’t be able to sleep at night knowing that you’re out there alone fighting crime, I don’t know what I’d do without you, kid. You know how to talk to the big guy, let alone, me.”

You felt so horrible for making Bruce feel so worried about you, “I’m sorry,” you whispered as you looked down at the floor, ashamed. “It was dumb of me, but all I do to help out the team is hack my way into a computer and then train for the rest of the day, I just wanted to prove not only to the team but to myself, that I can go on missions.”

Bruce got off your desk chair and walked over to your bed, sitting down beside you, “I think you’ve proved to us that you are ready.” You perked up, “you just have to be patient, Y/N, you won’t be put in the field right away but I’ll talk to the team and see what they say.”

“Really?” you asked with a hint of glee in your eyes.

He gave you a small nod as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, placing a small kiss on your temple, “just be careful, Y/N. The big guy won’t be happy to hear that you got hurt and neither would I.”

“I will,” you said softly, you couldn’t help but think back to what Bruce said, he had thought of you as his own kid. Of course, you had thought of Bruce as a father figure but now you knew, he was your dad. Even if it wasn’t by blood. “I’ll be careful, dad.” Bruce grinned from ear to ear when he heard you call him dad. After all, you were his and the big guy’s little girl.

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[swellwriting]

LOVER 4/18

- THE MAN -

Bucky x Reader/ The Winter Soldier x Reader

A/N: You do not need to be familiar with the song/ Album to read this!!!

Word Count: 2.3k      Part 3      Series Masterlist   Part 5

Warning: Mentions of injury and blood on the wrists that may be triggering to some. (though not intentionally, they are self-inflicted...handcuffs suck.) Also Sexual references but nothing major. The usual violence.

Summary:  “You were tired of being handcuffed to a bed not allowed to leave, you hated being denied drugs and then sedated for hours on end. You wanted to have control again.”

Nat told Tony to stop holding back on your meds, and of course, he listened. Not exactly in the way she intended it to be done though. They kept you heavily sedated, unconscious for an entire day after your first “session” with Wanda.

When you finally came to you felt so groggy, you knew something was wrong. You ate the cold food placed beside your bed and decided then and there that you were going to put an end to these games, whatever Tony was playing with you. And if this meant never seeing Winter or Bucky again, you didn’t care. You were tired of being handcuffed to a bed and not allowed to leave, you hated being denied drugs and then sedated for hours on end. You wanted to have control again.

Before you were too weak to break out of your chains, but the poison has completely run its course so you take your bandage off to see your wound almost completely healed, there is a dark bruising around it and red angry lines in your skin. It will leave a scar but it fits in fine with all the others so you don't really care.

You push your bed tray onto the floor and twist the chains around your hands gripping them roughly and yanking hard on them. The handcuffs don't come free but you rip the metal bars on the sides of the hospital bed clean off, great.

You push your blankets down and all the metal junk clanks together like you’re a damn human wind chime. You push your feet against one of the metal bars and pull your hand away, the cuff digs into the skin of your wrist cutting the sides open and you try to ignore the pain since you can feel the chain weakening and then it snaps, metal clangs to the floor and you look up to see if anyone heard it and is coming.

If the nurse did hear she definitely would be running the opposite direction anyway.

You repeat your actions, place your feet on the other bar, push and pull, your other wrist gets cut open but you don't stop, you are so close, snap! The handcuffs and the bit of chain that was connecting them to the bed hang from your wrists but you are free, you feel free. As if the chains were weighing you down you feel light, at ease and it’s great, but you didn’t think this through.

What now? You look around the room and then get up and walk down the hall.

-

“I just don’t trust her, she seems wrong. Not that you can ever really trust a woman,” Tony jokes as him Sam and Steve are standing in the hallway outside the medical ward.

“So if I was a man, you could trust me?” You ask as you lean against the wall, the chains and cuffs hang broken from your wrists covered in blood from the cuts they left, blood drips down your arm and onto the floor where you riped your IV out.

“Not particularly,” Tony says and looks you down head to toe admiring your handiwork. “I take it you’re feeling better, why don't you go back and lie down,” he says and it’s so condescending you can’t help the eye roll that comes by instinct.

“I'm tired of being told what to do, of being held a prisoner even though I have done nothing wrong.” You argue.

“You say that with a lot of confidence,” Sams asks, knowing your ledger is just as red as Bucky and Nats.

“I've never done anything wrong to you guys.”

“Spring!” Wanda says, walking into the hallway seemingly the only person concerned about your bloody hands and the trail on the floor behind you, “what did you do?”

You hold up your bloody hands and shrug, aware that there wasn’t really any explaining you could do. Bruce walks down the hallways and is quick to act.

“What the f-,” he stops and wraps his hands around your wrists gently, stopping the blood flow and then walks you backwards down the hallway back to your room, glaring at Tony the entire way. This was his fault in Bruce’s eyes, he told Tony that the handcuffs should have been removed days ago.

Bruce sits you down and Wanda removes the handcuffs with her powers and you thank her, but she isn’t happy with what you’ve done and you can tell on her face.

Bruce starts cleaning the wounds and stitching you up.

“I'm sure you don’t want to “talk” today,” Wanda asks, still unsure of what to call this thing you are doing, this treatment?

“No we can, I'm fine, was just tired of those cuffs, we can start now if you’d like.” You try to sound not so upset but you’re so tired of being treated the way you have been, of being told what to do, of being talked down to and treated differently. You remember the first time Hydra tried to treat you differently than Winter, and you remember the fit you threw to make sure it never happened again.

It’s what your mind goes to as you close your eyes, Wanda’s red glowing hands the last thing you see before the memories start like pressing a play button.

-

“Asset, you can’t go on this mission, It’s one for The Winter Soldier only, it’s too high stakes and you aren’t ready.” An unnamed officer explains to you as if you are too stupid to understand him. You are stood in one of the labs, having your blood drawn by a lab assistant to your left who seems nervous, looking over your face to see a reaction to being told no.

“Did Winter say that?” You ask.

“No, I did.” Strucker, the Head of your Hydra base among many others, said sternly and you went quiet. “You aren't as strong as him, you aren't as quick or skilled yet, we can’t afford to let this mission fail because we let some girl handle it.”

And something about the way he says that makes your blood boil with rage, like a kettle boiling over you are unable to contain your inner thoughts.

“So If I was a man I could go on the mission. If I was a big strong man I could handle this simple intel mission on my own. I'm so sick of being built up to be this big weapon for Hydra, your big threat only for you to ridicule me and limit me to missions that require seduction and tight dresses as if I couldn’t slit a man’s throat with pants on!”

The unnamed officer lets out a laugh and you give him a deadly glare before looking back to Strucker. He ignores you and you continue, you’ve said too much to take it back so you might as well vent.

“I'm so sick of running as fast as I can and trying to learn everything as fast as I can, perfecting my skills, proving I can be better than Winter in some things. Now I’m left to wonder If I could be Hydra’s number 1 soldier if only I was a man since that seems to be all that’s holding me back!” You yell which startles the lab assistant who is quickly finishing up taking your blood sample, removing the needle and then backing away to the safety of his desk.

“Perhaps you’d be number one if you weren’t sleeping with your coworkers,” the officer jokes, clearly referring to you and Winter even if they aren't certain of what’s going on.

“Yes because that would be a total one-sided thing, I should be punished for seducing him, yet he shouldn’t get reprimanded at all for fucking me as if it would be a one-person job that I’m doing all by myself!” You say with vigour, hatred laced in your voice for the officer. You don't know his name but he is quickly becoming the person you hate most, and that says a lot since you are in a room with Strucker.

“Well if it is a two-man job you just let me know.” The officer says and it would sound like a joke but the look in his eyes tells you it’s everything but, a threat he wishes he could hold up to. He leans in close as he unties the rubber band from your arm, touching your skin with grabby fingers, putting his face all too close to yours.

Perhaps it’s because you know they see you as just a woman who can’t control her emotions, they paint you up to be so bad, a hostile and reckless killing machine but they don't trust you. So in your mind, it’s okay that you’re mad, that you’re fed up and you’ve had enough. 

You want to be taken seriously but everything that’s been wired into your brain says there is only one way to show that. So before he can even finish laughing to himself at his own joke, or before he can imagine fucking you in his head you put an end to his thoughts altogether. You close the distance between you in seconds and tackle him to the ground.

“Oh if I was a man, then id be The Man.” You say as you spit in his face. Strucker, the head of Hydra stands there and watches, not stopping you, wanting to see the weapon he created in action. You grab your knife from your thigh holster and slit his throat wide open deep. There’s so much blood that your hand is dripping wet before you pull it away. There is blood splattered on your face and in your hair, your knees are in the puddle that’s quickly growing and u smudge it across the floor and get up.

“Make sure your officers know their place, I am not below them. Number 2 on your list is still miles above them, I am no one’s toy or object. I do my job and I do it well, I deserve their respect!” You say with wild eyes, covered in blood, yet you don’t scare Strucker in the least.

“I’ll make sure they are aware, Asset Number 2,” he says your given name so boldly, to remind you that you may be no object of the officers, but you are his object, his asset and he is Hydra.

Just then Winter walks in completely confused by the scene in front of him, but he has to act like he doesn't care too much. He can’t let them know he is really in love with you. Sure they may be onto the fact that something is going on, especially after what the now dead and forever nameless officer said to you.

There is no harm in sexual relations between their top two soldiers. They aren't about to try to actively stop you, but they aren't going to openly allow it either. Soldiers, Assets they think you have no feelings, so there no harm in acting on basic human needs right? Who else did they think Winter would want to sleep with? Some lowly officer? A lab assistant? No, of course not, he chose the closest thing to his equal, or that’s how they see it anyway.

You walk past Winter without a word, you aren't mad at him. You want nothing more than to fall into his arms and cry and complain but you can’t do that here, can’t show weakness. So you walk down the hallway with your head held high. The officers and lab rats stare as you pass them, a bloody smeared smile on your face daring them to test you, showing them what happens when they cross a line with you.

Earning your respect, or maybe just fear.

“So what do you think, Soldier?” Strucker asks Winter, seemingly calm and uncaring to the whole event that just occurred.

“I'm not sure what you mean Sir?” Winter replies, standing up straight, monotone voice.

“I'm sure you can deduct what happened here, the officer on the floor pushed the other asset a little too far, made her mad and this is how she reacted. What do you think?”

“I think you made her into a weapon first, and then a soldier after. Which I don't think is a problem, just needs to be handled differently, and certainly, with a level of respect I had seen her not getting in the past.” Bucky answers clearly, trying to give a well-thought-out answer.

“I think you’re right,” Strucker says with a sickening smile as he picks up a phone and then calls some officers to the room to clean up the bloody mess.

Winter can’t help but smile inside, he should be angry that someone pushed you this far but he’s glad to know you’re standing up for yourself. He feels like he doesn't have to worry as much.

-

“That was nothing like what you showed me the other day,” Wanda says with wide eyes.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to, it’s just where my mind brought me.”

“I've seen worse, don't worry about me.”

Bruce is patching up your wrists still, eyes wide as he doesn't look up at you.

“Sorry Bruce, I should have waited until you were further away I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay. Now I know not to piss you off,” he jokes, looking up at you with a lopsided smile.

“We have to agree not to piss each other off I guess?” You joke back and he chuckles, finishing patching you up.

Tony had left the floor before the memory started, so it wasn’t accidentally projected into his mind but Steve and Sam were still down the hall, just close enough to have to witness that.

“You were harsh earlier,” Steve says, concerned.

“Harsh? I was right and we just saw that. She’s not innocent!” Same argues.

“Are any of us really?”

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Part 5

[uncloseted]

lately i've been VERY confused about gender and sexuality (not mine, just in general, although more on that later). so i always called myself a lesbian because it made sense, im a girl i like girls. about 2 years ago i had a lot of internalized homophobia and i tried to be as feminine as i could so people would think i was straight. and i remember one time i thought "what if i'm a trans man and i'm doing this because i feel like i have something to prove". +

but then i thought "nah, i can't be a man (or non binary) i like girly things too much". but that's awful too. ellen always wears suits and has short hair and she's still a woman. jeffree star likes girly things and he's a man. but now i don't even know what IS a girl/woman. i mean i didn't choose to be a woman and i never had a chance to be anything else. but i don't think i ever wanted to be. even if i identified as "agender" and i still looked and acted the way i do know, society would still

be seeing and oppressing me as a woman, so at least to me, personally, it feels useless. but also, a lot of nb people (most of them are afab) identify as lesbians. it's very confusing. i never had any kind of dysphoria although i felt uncomfortable with my body, periods, and sex but i always thought it was because of shyness, anxiety, internalized homophobia, insecurities and beauty standards. and i have a friend who's studying psychology in university and she told me dysphoria does not exist

trans girls. i think it depends on, like, how "far" they are in their transition?. i think i could be attracted, physically and emotionally but i couldn't have sex with someone with a penis. and i know even the most trans-positive people will tell you that it's ok to have a genital preference and not want to date trans people. but it still makes me feel horrible because it's like i'm seeing nb people as "more woman" than trans women. but also in all honesty it's very hard to "tell" cis people

from nb people. if you showed me a picture of jeffree star and jonathan van ness (or elena and syd from one day at a time, or amandla stenberg and king princess, or sam smith and harry styles) and asked me which one is nb, i wouldn't know. i would probably say jeffree. so i agree that monosexual (straight/gay) people will inevitably be attracted to nbs because nb is a spectrum, and also some people (I think all of us, in some way? maybe it's a controversial opinion) are gender non-conforming but

but don't identify as nb. does that mean we should change the definitions of gay/lesbian, since any gender could have any type of body and look as feminine and/or masculine as they want? do sam smith, jvn, vander von odd/sasha velour/gigi goode (all genderfluid drag artists) have male privilege despite not being men?. should we change the words feminism, sexism, misogyny, male privilege, etc for something more accurate?. honeslty i think a lot of this confusion is actually intrusive thoughts

and me just being an overthinker in general but it's been causing me so much distress that now every pronoun feels wrong and i can't even masturbate. please forgive the rambling, the buts, the incoherence and the ignorance. thanks in advance. oh and please tell me if this comes through in pieces and i will send them again

So there’s a ton to unpack here, but for the record, I’ve had this exact train of thought, too.

I want to preface my answer by saying that I’m not a gender scholar and I haven’t read nearly as many academic works as I’d like to on this subject, so this is coming very much from my personal opinions and less from an evidence-based/academic place. I also want to say that if pressed, I would describe myself as a pansexual gender anarchist (as in, attracted to people for who they are instead of their parts and I think we should get rid of the concept of gender entirely), but I think that sounds a bit wanky, especially since it has almost zero bearing on my everyday life. So I think the concept of sexuality and gender is maybe different to me than it is to other people, and my perspective on this topic might be unusual in that sense.  If anyone reading this thinks what I’m saying is bullshit or problematic, please join in the conversation! I would love to hear what you have to say.

For me, the more I think about gender and sexuality, the more i don’t really “get” either concept. Gender has begun to feel (to me) like one of those Buzzfeed quizzes where you answer a bunch of questions and they’re like, “you’re rocky road ice cream” and you’re like, “I have no idea what that implies except for it’s the collection of traits I chose from the options above”.  

What I mean by that is that gender is a social construct. No traits are inherently masculine or feminine- things that are considered masculine in one culture can be feminine in another and vice versa. 

Especially now, when we’re really moving towards disentangling gender from our world, I wonder what’s left to take the place of those items to define what gender is.  Gender used to be like “feminine is cleaning, nurturing, creating (or Barbie dolls, dresses, and makeup), and masculine is destruction, being powerful, and being ambitious (or football, beer, and video games)”, but clearly that’s not what it means anymore. Ellen’s suits are feminine suits by virtue of the fact that she IDs as female, even though suits used to be considered a male thing.  Jeffree Star’s makeup looks are male makeup looks by virtue of the fact that he IDs as male, even though makeup used to be considered a female thing.  I’ve heard some people say that there are as many genders as there are people in the world. At that point I think we’re just using the word “gender” as a synonym for “personality”, which is fine, but I think we need to be clear about our definitions and what these words now mean and imply about a person.

Going along that train of thought, if gendered words don’t really mean anything anymore, I don’t see the point as identifying as a particular gender, at last not in the abstract.  In practice, our world still sees gender and cares about it, and other people’s interpretation of our gender has very real consequences.  As you say, even if you identified as agender, society would treat you as a woman because you present in a way society considers to be “traditionally feminine”, and as a result, you would be oppressed in the same way women are.  This is why I said that my position on gender impacts my life zero percent.  I can identify as a gender anarchist all I want, but at the end of the day I still get passed up for opportunities because the way I present is read as female.  Likewise, nonbinary people who were assigned male at birth do have a degree of male privilege (or at least, can access male privilege), depending on how well they “pass” as a man.  Sam Smith likely still experiences some male privilege, because they look (most of the time) like what society might consider traditionally male.  Someone like JVN probably passes less frequently, due to his long hair and frequent wearing of what we might think of as traditionally female clothing (skirts and dresses and high heels).  However, the flip side of that is both Sam Smith and JVN risk being even more marginalized than female identifying, female presenting people when they do dress in a gender non-conforming way, because nonbinary identities are less understood and less accepted than female identities are. 

So now that we’ve considered what gender means in relation to society, maybe let’s consider it in relation to our bodies and sexuality.  This is a bit of a minefield so I’m going to try to tread carefully, but again, feel free to call me out if I say something problematic... 

I don’t think being uncomfortable with your body, especially feminine features of your body that are widely looked down upon (for example, periods) or sexualized (physical features like boobs, butts, hips) necessarily makes a person trans or nonbinary.  As you say, those feelings can be a result of shyness, anxiety, internalized homophobia, insecurities, beauty standards, and dozens of other things.  However, it is something many trans or nonbinary individuals experience.  So the question then becomes, where are those feelings of discomfort coming from?  Are they internal to you (as in, your body physically feels like there’s something wrong/those features shouldn’t be there) or external (you feel shame for having those features because of the society you grew up in)?  It can be really hard to detangle internal influences from external ones, given that people who are assigned female at birth learn to hate our femininity and female bodies from a very young age.

I would say that if those feelings are internal to you, then that’s what referred to as gender dysphoria.  Gender dysphoria is a real, ICD and DSM diagnosable condition, and there’s some evidence to suggest that there’s a neurobiological basis for it.  My (very controversial) hypothesis is that gender dysphoria is like other body integrity identity disorders, where there’s a mismatch between the brain’s map of the body and what the physical body actually looks like.  I want to make it clear here that I don’t think being trans is a disorder.  I don’t think it’s bad or that all people who are trans have a body integrity disorder.  I don’t think you need to physically transition to be trans, or that we should pathologize gender/gender expression, or that gender is a binary (hopefully that last one is obvious).  I just think if society has less stringent gender divisions and a less binary understanding of gender, fewer people would physically transition, but some people would still experience a mismatch between their idea of how their body’s sexual characteristics should look and how they physically are.

So then, what does that mean for our terminology?  I think in the context of a world where the meaning of gender is changing, gay and lesbian just refer to genitals (people with penises attracted to people with penises and people with vaginas attracted to people with vaginas, respectively).  Or perhaps we need to separate it out further- maybe you can be romantically and physically attracted to female and male presenting people, but sexually attracted to only vaginas.  Maybe that would fill the gap between being interested in a person romantically and being interested in having sex with their genitals, where you’re attracted to someone without yet knowing what’s in their pants?  In general, though, I think labels should exist to be useful.  I don’t know how useful it is to have a term for “I'm attracted to you, given that you have the genitals I’m sexually attracted to.”

I think under that framework of centering labels like gay and lesbian on genitals, a lot more people are pansexual than would identify that way if you took a poll right now.  In general, I think a lot of people never recognize that they’re pansexual because they aren’t in contact with nonbinary or trans people that they’re attracted to frequently enough to know they don’t actually care about genital preferences.

When talking about other labels like feminism (the advocacy for AFAB and female-identifying/presenting rights), sexism (prejudice, stereotyping, or discrimination, generally towards female identifying/presenting people. but also towards gender nonconforming people), misogyny (dislike of, contempt for, or ingrained prejudice against AFAB and female identifying/presenting people), male privilege (the system of advantages or rights that are available to men and male identifying/presenting people solely on the basis of their sex/gender presentation), etc., I think those terms refer to the societal construct of sex/gender that is still prevalent in our culture.  We perhaps need to start using other words to describe discrimination against nonbinary people, but I think the existing terms continue to serve a purpose and it’s not time to retire them just yet.

I don’t know if any of this is at all helpful or if I’m expressing my thoughts clearly.  Maybe it will just add more confusion to your existing thought process, but I hope it helps to minimize your distress at least a little bit.  Ultimately, all of this is kind of made up, so don’t beat yourself up too much while trying to unravel all these different threads. People spend full academic careers and sometimes their entire lives trying to figure out what they believe on these issues.  It’s okay to not have it all worked out or to not be sure in your ideas.  Even for me, this is just where my thinking is right now.  Maybe in the future it will change with new information I learn or as my feelings towards myself change.  Try to let yourself think of this as a journey instead of something you have to already have figured out.