#christ if i was good at a Activity i probably would have had to stick with it

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

weird hearing "were you a Theatre Kid" "were you a Sports Kid" "were you a Choir Kid" "were you a Dance Kid" bc no? i mean i did all of that and more but resented ever minute of it? actively avoided sticking with anything? i was a "In This Family After School Activities Are Mandatory Kid"

[scaryscarecrows]

Trent eyes the clock tower across the street. They don't build 'em like that anymore, not in the big cities. Too much money for upkeep.

"We're in position, boss," he says. "Just waitin' on you."

"Two minutes out. Any activity?"

"Nope." He knows better than to ask if the Knight's sure this is the right place."

"Good. Rogers, cut the cameras."

"I can't believe you didn't lead with the fact that I was gonna get to meet Oracle," Jimmy gripes. "I would have shoved you out of the way to get in the car."

"Dude, she's probably gonna hate you," Trent points out. Jimmy makes a shrugging noise and there's a faint tapping.

"Still. It's Oracle, man. Everybody in this field knows about Oracle."

Huh. Whatever. Trent's main interest right now is that removing her from the clock tower will force Batman to stop cheating and asking for help. It will also, according to the boss, spread him even thinner, wear the bastard down. And keep their drones safe.

"All right, cameras are down."

"Good work." Jesus Christ. Trent really, really hates the ninja thing. Scuff a boot or something, it's not hard. "Ages, take Rodriguez and head in; I'll meet you inside. Simmons, McMally, Chen, keep the cars running. Batman's going to be pissed."

Sucks to be Batman, then.

The Knight grapples upwards, vanishing in the city lights, and Ages shakes his head.

"Let's go, Rodriguez. Time to sell some Girl Scout cookies."

The door is locked. Locks are for suckers, and one good kick followed by a hard shove gets it open. The elevator ride is a tight one, but it's short.

If Trent had been expecting hysterics, he'd have been disappointed: the woman they're here for whips a pair of escrima sticks out from her wheelchair and flings one. Trent dodges it. Rodriguez doesn't and it hits him the head, knocking him unconscious, before returning to her hand.

"Come on, you bastards, come and get me."

Unfortunately, they're not allowed to hurt her. Not even a little bit, like a broken arm or a small concussion.

He crosses the room with full intent to take the sticks away when there's a zapping noise. A second later, fiery pain shoots through his side and are those fucking electric? Where is she shopping? Goddamn Bat.

"Give me those," he growls, making a shaky swipe for one. She smacks him, hard, and that's when the Knight drops through the ceiling right next to her.

"Watch out, they're--"

She's already jabbing one of them--sparking blue--towards his crotch. The Knight jumps back, knocking a photo off the bookshelf, and Trent takes advantage to tip her out of her wheelchair and onto the ground, only feeling a little guilty. The guilt's gone when she twists and flings one of her goddamn sticks at him, nailing him in the face.

"Sorry, Barbara." The Knight steps forward, and this time he grabs her wrist when she tries to hit him. "Nothing personal."

"Who the hell are you?"

He just picks her up.

"Take him," he says, nodding towards Rodriguez. "Meet me back at base; I want you to head Scarecrow off."

"Yessir."

[kirakiwiwrites]

Hi friends! So it’s been a minute lol. Why? A whole slew of reasons like migraines, a new job, traveling, carpal tunnel, and good old fashioned writer’s block. Are we still working on a one shot for Obsidian Castle and another new multi chapter story? Yes. Three actually. We will be posting new stuff soon. Thanks so much for all the love from Obsidian Castle too. So happy everyone has enjoyed it!

Anyway, we thought to get out of the little rut, we would participate in the @klaine-word-scramble. It looks like so much fun and if you haven’t checked it out you should! So here is our first one, just a very short one shot full of cute fluff. The theme for most of these will probably be future fics like this one. We will also post these to FF.net and A03

Thank you to all who organized it and come up with all the fun scrambles!

Disclaimer: We do not own Glee, the characters, or quotations from the show.

(Aug 1 scramble - 979 words)

Craft day:

“Do we need more glue?”

Blaine scratched at his head before grimacing as he realized his hands were covered in glue. now his hair was also covered in glue. The stuff was everywhere. “No, I don’t think that’s it.” He scanned the directions while he wiped at his head. “If we add more glue, things could get worse.”

His eight year old son Michael huffed a sigh and poked at the goopy substance in the bowl. “What about more glitter?”

Blaine shook his head slowly as he tried to make sense of the mess they had made. “Oh god no. No more glitter.”

It looked as though a glitter bomb had exploded in their kitchen. There was glitter on everything: the floor, the cabinets, them. Glitter had even somehow ascended to the top of the fridge and landed amongst the mousetraps they stored up there. It was quite a mess.

Michael blew the dark curls he inherited from his father out of his eyes and glitter puffed out and slowly and floated down. “Did we put enough activator in?” He spread his fingers and purple glittery glue gunk made strings across them. “I don’t think it’s supposed to be so sticky.”

Blaine made a noise of agreement before he realized two of the pages were stuck together. Carefully, he peeled them apart and saw they had missed a step.

“Okay, kiddo. I figured it out. Grab that spatula and stir until you think your arms are gonna fall off.”

Michael did as his father told him and stirred, the tip of his tongue peeking out from the corner of his mouth. “What do I do if my arms do fall off?”

“Use some of the glue and stick them back on. I’m going to clean up a bit before—“

“What did you two do to my kitchen!” Kurt exclaimed as he clutched his face in horror. He stood in the doorway, his keys and a brown paper bag in one hand. “Did you blow up a disco ball?”

Blaine winced. “Oh, hey honey.” He gave his husband his most charming smile. He cleaned faster. “You’re home early!”

A little giggle came from their six year old daughter who had spent the morning with Kurt. Her bright blue eyes sparkled as she took in the mess. “Mikey looks like the shiny troll from that movie!” She set down a matching brown paper bag and skipped over to the counter where her brother was stirring vigorously. “I want to do it too!”

Kurt set his bag down quickly beside his daughter’s and gingerly picked his way through the disaster zone. “Tracy! Wait! At least change your clothes first!” He sighed and accepted a kiss on the cheek from his husband. She was already elbow deep in the concoction and chuckling maniacally.

“Don’t worry, Kurt,” Blaine said brightly. “I’m going to have all this cleaned up before dinner. How did it go making candles?”

Kurt leaned tiredly on the counter, then remembered it was covered in slime and stood upright. “We actually had fun until Tracy decided things were too calm. She decided she didn’t want a normal cat shaped candle, but she wanted a headless cat shaped candle that would bleed when she burned it.”

“Jesus Christ,” Blaine mumbled as he picked out some sparkley glue from his arm hair. “Has she been watching Wednesday again?”

Kurt rolled his eyes and grabbed a dish towel. After wetting it, he began to carefully wipe the glue off of Blaine’s arm. “I don’t know but I’m having a hell of a time encouraging her to express her creativity while also not making the other children around her cry.”

Blaine thanked him for the glue and eyed the room with another grimace. “It’s a precarious dance for sure. You do a wonderful job.”

Kurt smiled and kissed him just as their children screamed in triumph.

“Dad! Papa! Look! We made slime!” Michael held up a blob of purple goo studded with glitter.

“Can I eat it?” Tracy asked as she squeezed some through her fingers.

“No!” Blaine yelled in alarm at the same time Kurt yelled, “Absolutely not! Don’t you dare put that in your mouth!”

Tracy glared at them for ruining her fun, but then got distracted by the shiny slime. Michael gave her a very brotherly look that said he considered her only a step above an animal.

“Why are you so weird?”

“Am not! You’re weird!”

“You’re the one trying to eat slime!”

“I just asked! I wasn’t gonna do it!”

Kurt took a deep breath and released it as Blaine continued to clean the kitchen. “Kids! Enough!” Kurt interjected, hands on his hips. “Mikey, don’t call your sister weird. Tracy, don’t ever eat anything unless you know it’s food. I will not have fighting on craft day!”

Blaine nodded solemnly in silent support as he scrubbed at a dried pile of goop. He accidentally upset a pile of glitter that puffed out in a cloud and caused him to sneeze.

Michael shrugged and continued to stretch the slime out and whirl it like a jump rope between his hands. Tracy stared down at the small bit in her hand. “I wasn’t gonna eat it,” she grumbled.

Kurt pinched the bridge of his nose in an effort to stay calm. “Alright. Help me and Papa clean up the kitchen and we will all go out for pizza. Deal?”

This was met with cheers of agreement from the two children who took wet paper towels offered to them by Kurt and set to work wiping up glitter. Kurt smiled at how determined they were and grabbed the broom and dustpan.

“Thank you,” Blaine said with a grateful smile.

“You’re welcome,” Kurt replied as he started sweeping. “But buckle up because next craft day is painting and Tracy had me take her by the cemetery for ‘inspiration’.”

“Of course she did. But it’s fine because in the Hummel-Anderson house, we support weird.”

“Absolutely.”

*words used from the scramble:

Candles (pretty sure this is the unscrambled word but shhh don’t tell lol)

scan (scanned)

land (landed)

ascend (ascended)

clean

dances (dance)

deal

[fitchersvogel]

Christmas Was Not "Stolen" From Pagans.

Seasons Greasons! As your friendly neighbourhood folklorist, I wanted to address some popular NeoPagan memes that spring up around holidays like Christmas. The history of the festival is complex, and there are definitely pre-Christian aspects that made their way into celebrations, but the language of “theft” is not accurate.

Basically:

FIRST: if you want to talk about Christians actively stealing religious beliefs and practices, their primary victim has always been Judaism. The entirety of the Christian religion is founded upon an appropriation and twisting of Jewish religion; please look up the doctrine of “supersessionism.” The ultimate goal was, of course, destruction of Judaism, but only after it had been extensively strip-mined.

Paganism, on the other hand, was to be straight-up destroyed. Strip-mining, when it happened, was more a matter of convenience than theological imperative.

Some pagan practices did stick around, for a variety of reasons.

Sometimes these pagan holdovers were a form of resistance. Sometimes converts just added Jesus to what they’d always done, with no worries. Sometimes Christian authorities deliberately adopted pagan practices to make coerced conversion more palatable.  Sometimes Christian authorities didn’t consider whatever was happening important enough to fuss about. And so on.

Many European pagan cultures—but not all—had festivals set at or around the winter solstice. The most important ones for our purposes are the Roman Saturnalia and the Germanic/Norse Yule. (Ronald Hutton argues that the Roman New Year/Kalends (Jan 1) was also a factor, but since so many of the customs were basically identical to Saturnalia, I’m more inclined to see them as extensions of those festivities.)

In early Christianity, the single most important festival, by a long shot, was Easter. Christ’s Nativity, when they bothered with it at all, was very [shrug emoji].

The textual evidence of the Gospels, insofar as they can be relied on, suggests a spring birthday—that’s when shepherds would have been out watching their flocks by night, for example.

The Roman date of the feast of the Nativity was fixed at December 25 in the mid-4th century; it absolutely was placed there to take advantage of the existing holiday of Saturnalia, as well as the feasts of the Unconquered Sun (Sol Invictus) and (possibly) Mithras’s birthday. Jesus had to be born sometime, and this was as good a choice as any.

Christians could also spot a good seasonal metaphor—the saviour is born at the darkest time of the year, and the light grows in power every day thereafter.

While Gregory the Great (601, Epistola ad Mellitum) is the most famous advocate for appropriating existing religious sites and festivals and plastering Jesus over them, the practice had been happening for a while already.

Because the authorities cared so little about policing the festival, tons of earlier celebratory traditions and symbolism just… carried over. Gift-giving, centrality of family/household, carnival atmosphere, Lords of Misrule, feasting (especially on boars), Yule logs/fire symbolism, evergreens as decoration… all of these customs are holdovers from either Saturnalia or Yule.

What didn’t carry over is the specifically religious elements: Saturnalia was a feast for Saturn, celebrating a lost golden age of peace and plenty. Yule was (probably) linked to some form of ancestor veneration and/or a feast for the dead.

You can make a slightly better case for theological influences from Sol Invictus or Mithras’s birthday; Christianity certainly appreciated the symbolic value of linking their god to the rebirth of the sun. But Sol Invictus is a relative latecomer on the Roman festival scene, and there is considerable dispute about December 25 as Mithras’s natal festival.

Once Christianity had successfully colonized and suppressed the majority of pagan religious practice, the most fanatical started getting upset about Christmas customs, because they now had more time to play orthodoxy police instead of, you know, murdering people and passing laws to compel conversion.

From, like, the 600s on, there is always some churchman bitching about the decadence, drunkenness, and extravagance of Christmas celebrations. Lots of them argued that it wasn’t a properly Christian festival at all.

The high point of anti-Christmas whining came during the Protestant reformation, when many hardliners forbade the festival altogether, citing a) lack of Biblical support, b) holdovers from paganism, and c) riotous behaviour from the ~lower orders~. Christmas was banned in Puritan New England for exactly this reason.

Modern “War on Christmas” narratives that insist that Christmas is, and always has been, a 100% Jesus holiday are pretty laughable: it was never all that theologically important, and their own co-religionists kept trying to ban it for most of the festival’s history.

To sum up: Christmas was not “stolen,” per se. Jesus’s birth is described in the Gospels, so there needed to be some kind of festival. December 25 was as good a time as any, because there were existing festival infrastructures, and the symbolism of the solstice is useful. Because it was such a minor festival, a fair amount of the less-overtly-religious folk elements from Saturnalia and Yule celebrations just kept going, and nobody in the early days cared enough to police that. Once Christianity had crushed active pagan resistance, then some theologians found time to bitch about how un-Christian the festival was, because of the arbitrary date and the continuance of earlier customs. This sense of “Christmas isn’t properly Christian” has been flaring up periodically ever since, particularly among fundamentalist Protestant groups; it’s also proven useful to modern Pagans who enjoy the customary trappings of Christmas, which is fine—I’m one of them!

But the language of “theft” isn’t useful here: advantage was taken of existing practices, but in a more hands-off way than Christians usually behaved—which is the reason so many of those pre-existing practices survived! If you want to talk about theft from pagans, you’re on much firmer ground when talking about things like the destruction of pagan sanctuaries to build churches. But remember: Jews are the primary victims of Christian religious appropriation, not pagans!

If you want some academic sources, Ronald Hutton's Stations of the Sun is the most useful and accessible. There's also The Battle for Christmas, by Stephen Nissenbaum, for an in-depth look specifically at American practices.

[artsyunderstudy]

WIP Tag Game : Bury Your Love?? 👀👀👀

So this is another old, old idea that I was actually actively writing for a bit. The general premise was that Simon ends up breaking things off with Baz at the Leaver's Ball, saying some pretty hurtful shit because he's unable to stomach Baz's tenderness and all his own trauma about everything he's just lost.

The story picks up years later. They run into each other at a bar, Baz is closed off an bitter, content to pretend like their romantic interlude didn't happen. All the walls are up. Simon's ready to take whatever of Baz he can have, though, so they end up in a physical relationship that's really lacking in that tenderness, very rough for lack of a better word. It would have followed them through a series of meetings where they have to get through their shit, and Simon has to genuinely work to get that trust back, that'll allow Baz to soften to him again.

The idea basically bloomed from this scene (NSFW) where Simon and Baz are having sex, and Baz is essentially allowing himself to be hurt/move too fast because he's trying so hard to make it not mean anything, and Simon realizes this and just, stops it cold. The title refers to the idea of Baz, in his hurt, burying his love for Simon.

I'll be honest, this fic is most likely never going to see the light of day. It's real angsty, and I sort of lost motivation for it. Everything I wrote I'd probably scrap and start all over if I ever thought to start it again. But here, have a big excerpt from the Leaver's Ball. Simon is Freaking Out.

I never really believed that I belonged here.  It always seemed way too good to be true, like a dream I’d eventually wake up from.  But Merlin, did I want it.  It was a part of me.  It is a part of me.  This place is mine the way nothing else in my life has ever been mine.  The first place I was ever really seen.  I was given purpose here, and power.  I had magick.  I was made of it.  Now?

I shut my eyes, nails digging into my palms.

Christ, I need to find Baz.  I told myself I’d do this for him.  It’s his Leaver’s Ball, and he shouldn’t leave this place without me.   I don’t know what he expected from me, or from us, but it can’t have looked much like the last few months.  I did tell him I’d be a terrible boyfriend, and I thought—I’d hoped—that I could prove myself wrong in the end.  I need to do this.  He’s been so good.  Infuriatingly, unbelievably good.  It’s me who’s been a proper mess. 

I shake my head and start forward.  At least three people have walked past me already.  My tail caught one of them in the ankle and they nearly ended up on the ground. 

There are fairy lights (the Normal kind) strung up all around the courtyard, the light soft and flickering.  Circular tables surround a large spread of food.  I don’t see sandwiches, I thought there’d be sandwiches.  There’s already so many people dancing.  Will Baz want to dance?  I bet he’s good at that, too.  Thinking about his hands on me makes my stomach twist into knots.

I look around the crowd for him, I’m in the thick of it now.  Everybody’s looking at me, but also not looking.  Merlin, it’s completely fucked the way their gazes keep sliding over me, like oil over water.  Like there’s nothing left of me that sticks.

It’s just jarring is what it is.  Like I’m the hole now.

@theearlgreymage

[bluepsi]

So I know tumblr is full of helpful depression and anxiety takes already but I’ve recently started being more active in combatting my mental illness and I’d like to share a few things that have helped me tremendously. I’ve dealt with severe anxiety and on and off severe depression since I was a kid and I’ve found that counseling and medication don’t really do it for me. I’m more of a “I’ll feel better about a problem being fixed if I’m the one fixing it” kind of person. Everyone deals with mental illness differently but hopefully some or even just one of these can help you too.

1. Go touch grass. That’s a joke. But seriously, go outside for a bit. Don’t plan on doing anything in particular outside, just be outside and make that the objective. Even if it’s just standing on the porch for a second and getting some fresh air, it’s a good sort of mental palate cleanser, if that makes sense.

2. Get a vitamin regiment. This one was interesting, because I started talking vitamins daily mainly to feel a little better about my physical health cuz my diet isn’t the greatest so I wanted to be able to get more nutrients. But I noticed after not even 2 weeks of taking vitamins every morning that my mood significantly improved. In hindsight idk why I was surprised since your brain and body need certain amounts of nutrients to function properly. If you’re like me though and suck at routines this may be a bit difficult but try to stick with it. And you may be wondering where to start but even if it’s just a daily multivitamin, it will help.

3. Go. To. Sleep. Earlier. THIS one is the hardest. Like Jesus effing Christ fixing my sleep schedule was hard as hell. BUT, I finally get why this is such a common one. I probably went to bed consistently around 2, 3 sometimes 4am for years and would wake up around 12-1 pm. Because of my class schedule this semester, however, I had no choice but to start going to bed earlier. And I’m so glad for it. I know the night time is when we get to actually enjoy ourselves and try to earn back the couple hours that work stole from our day, but I promise, waking up just a little earlier in the morning will make your days so much better and you’ll feel like you have so much more of it to do things. Plus it just feels kind of nice to be awake in the morning as the world is waking up. I know that sounds lame and cheesy as fuck but whatever. I cannot stress enough how much fixing your sleep schedule by even a little can benefit you.

4. Don’t clean your room. You read that right. Don’t clean your entire room. Clean only one small part of it. Clear clutter off your end table. Take dirty dishes to the kitchen. Get that pile of laundry off your chair. Sweep/vacuum your floor. And no, this isn’t some sneaky “if you start with just one thing you’ll end up wanting to clean your whole room muahaha” mind trick. If it has that effect, great. But don’t do any of these things with that as the objective. Having an entirely clean room is magical, but getting it clean when you’re having a bad mental health day is next to impossible. Trust me, just take that 1-5 minutes to just clean ONE thing. You’ll immediately feel better.

5. Look forward to something. Alright this one’s a little tricky, but it has one of the best effects. It’s not as simple as finding a hobby, but try to find something that you do once a week, every week. For me, I found a dodgeball meet up at a local rec center. Not only is it fun as freaking hell, it allowed me to meet and socialize with people around my age. And it gave me something to look forward to every week, which immediately made me happier. I found this through a friend, but I imagine you can Google a local community center or find something on social media.

6. Treats. This one’s probably the more redundant “hehe treat yourself be comfy and cozy grip a warm mug with both hands in a baggy sweater” kind of take, but don’t underestimate it. Typically food is the best one for this. Think of a food or snack that you just LOVE above all others. Keep it stocked always. When you feel crappy, remind yourself that your favorite thing is in the cupboard. When you have a good or productive day, reward yourself with that treat. For me, it’s goat cheese. I fucking love goat cheese probably to an unhealthy amount. I eat it with raspberry preserves on toast every single morning; not only does it look like one of those high-aesthetic Pinterest breakfasts so I feel fancy, it tastes so god damn good. Plus it’s a decently healthy and filling breakfast, which in itself is also a huge mental health boost. Anyway, treat yourself.

7. Slow down. This one is a little hard to explain but hopefully it will make sense. One reason I feel anxious so often is that everything I do or have to do, I think that I have to fly through it and finish it as quickly as possible. I think that the sooner I finish a task, the sooner I can get back to doing what I want to do. But I end up making myself jittery and super anxious. So by the time I get to relax or play a video game, I’m still in hyperspeed rush mode. I feel like I have to rush through it and get to the enjoyment as quickly as possible. I completely forget to just take my time and unwind. I feel like this can apply to a lot of aspects of life in general. Just breathe and slow down.

Living with mental illness takes a lot of work. You have to work and struggle to just feel okay.  But if you’re like me, feeling some degree of control and ability to take charge of your mental health feels so great and empowering. Even if you just pick one of these and find that it helps, I’m so happy for you and you should feel extremely proud of yourself.

[mylordshesacactus]

Meta writing ask! 2, 19, 23, 24.

2: Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project

Reunification is about to start an arc I've been excited about since I started the fic, so it's very annoying that I've been struggling to write it. XD

I also...really want to be able to do meaningful work on that Loresingers project. I got some concept writing done but with everything else going on and no one to rubber-duck to, it's been hard to get traction.

19: Is there something you always find yourself repeating in your writing? (favourite verb, something you describe ‘too often’, trope you can’t get enough of?)

YES, YES, JO'S LOYAL LIEUTENANT TROPE, WE'VE ALL SEEN IT.

23: What’s the story idea you’ve had in your head for the longest?

Oh lmao that's definitely Aquarius. Which, hand to god, has not been abandoned; we've just been in a fallow season for a little while. This winter was hard on us both.

24: Would you say your writing has changed over time?

For sure. I mean, jesus, I'd hope so! I don't think it's possible to write regularly and not have your writing change over time; it's certainly not desirable. That just means you're not growing or learning. A lot of that development is invisible, so you gotta avoid overthinking it--like, I've just gotten better over the years and that can be hard to quantify, you know?

For one concrete and easily-observable thing, though, I do know I've gotten much more comfortable writing AUs since I was, you know, a teenager. For a long time I strongly preferred my work to be canon-compliant and in fact actively disliked writing canon-divergence or AU settings. That only started changing, essentially, when I got better at writing. Not just mechanically or in terms of technical skill, but like...I learned how to articulate and understand why I disliked some AUs, and what I didn't like about writing them, and then I became good enough to just not do those things.

Essentially, what I disliked was the idea of....making something up, essentially, and then realizing that it didn't quite fit into the timeline or contradicted something that happened or the way a certain system worked in canon, and just shrugging and writing it anyway because without it the story didn't work. You'll probably notice that, while I've ALSO learned how to keep them from totally interrupting the flow of a story, I'm fond of sprinkling little digressions on day-to-day practicalities or a specific logistical snarl into my work. Those details are important to me. When the lynchpin of your story concept is a detail that doesn't work with canon, the satisfying thing to is usually to find a way to make it work, not just...go 'oh well I'll just change how that works then'.

While I've never been against discarding a canonical detail or mechanic that's just bad or doesn't make internal sense--I write KOTOR and Warcraft fanfiction, for christ's sake--it yanks me out of immersion if I feel like the narrative doesn't understand its own rules.

And, of course, I hate AUs or fusions where the characters are unrecognizable. Strong character work will make the most outlandish AU feel real; no amount of in-depth worldbuilding or clever logic can stick the landing if you can't get the characters to feel like themselves.

[ashanimus]

Ash Liveblogs MTMTE #4-#7

This is just really nice sci fi writing. I'm coming into this very cold and for all me yelling and screeching about What X or Y is the text and visual and dialogue does a really good job of communicating those things without going into he exhaustive detail I hassle out of my friends

FPFFFffFFF

Well Thats a horrifying question. Why are your hands so irreplaceable, Ratchet?? Rod just got new hands! I'm enjoying these little cultural tidbits about bodies. What can and cannot be replaced, what's considered worse than a mortal wound vs the way that exile and punishment is externalized--like Empurata. Huh.

OH OKAY THIS ONE IS ALL ABOUT BODIES I GUESS

AAAAAAAAAAAA

Huh. I'm just. Really impressed with how these artists get these characters to emote, the very very creative and interesting and compositional solutions to communicating emotions and feeling on these challenging character models

AESFHLDSAFSKJGD

ANCIENT JACKASS

TAILGATE IS EXTREMELY RIGHT TO BE MAD AT YOU.

I am living for this cool ridiculous alien mechanical biology.

Yikes. That's...that may not solve the problem of belonging for you, Tailgate. These are banners of a war thats ended...and that he's being enabled here is quite sad!

This is also fucking devastating. I was, for some reason, NOT expecting grotesque body horror in the robot comic! SILLY FUCKING BAT.

I havent enjoyed a traditional comic in a while and I really love how the medium is used to its fullest to move reveals like this along, this is delightful

Okay @fernacular I see the appeal of old man boyfriend now, this is fucking great

OH OKAY. YOU WANNA GIVE ME COOL COMIC, BODY HORROR, BITTER EXES, HEARTBREAK AND BODY PART SWAPPING AND MAKE ME FUCKING CRY OKAY

@polyhexian @fernacular FUCK YOUUUUUUUUU SCREEEECH IM CRYING IM NOT CRYING aDLFJDAJGk]'

#6

Ah yes. Whirl. Whirl is my favorite so far. And also um. Sir??? Are you actively suicidal right now??? SIR???

All of these robots, ALL OF THEM, have the personalities and socialization of brutalized wolfdogs all stuck in the back of a Volkswagon but DEAR GOD Whirl??? Everyone smacks the shit out of each other! And you out here talking like this!

HOW ARE YOU STILL ALIVE

aEFJADSLJGLJG

WHIRL ISNT WRONG BUT HOLY FUCK

WHIRL. HONEY. YOUR GUTS ARE ALL OVER THE FLOOR. THEY'RE ALL OVER THE

Okay even the hostage taker is confused enough to demand explanation and Rung you are so useless and also bad at improv

Whirl is a theatre kid.

I'm laughing so hard I can't fucking breathe

And now I'm crying again. I'm just. Drowning in snot over here. Okay. Okay. I am genuinely blown away how this, out of context, would be damn near illegible, but with a little context is horrifying, touching and heartbreaking. He's speared through, Rung is over here genuinely a little touched, jesus christ on a pogo stick.

Okay, not that this is ever relevant to anything and there is more transformers stuff to watch than I could finish in a month of vacation, if I was in charge of anything I'd probably pull Whirl audition sides from this scene--or at least some of them--because even just meeting the character through my friends and these early issues, one of the most compelling things about him is that really interesting tension between his sincerity, humor, gurgly dying delivery and cold intensity. It's really interesting. The artists here use a lot of composition and context and light to make whirl emote and it's such a cool artistic challenge they solve over and over again.

Although in that vein if I was doing any casting of voice stuff for a MTMTE anything I think it'd be essential to cast a bunch of weird character actors, shakespearians and people who had video game experience.

#7

Tarn is a funny name for a robot? Thats a lake?

So pretty...so horrible. What a moody, cold, image.

Huh. Brainstorm has an interesting vernacular

This comic is so insane. Like very little about this seems to pretend to be anything like the stuff that spawned it. It's a transforming toy! And now, fast forward, were talking about the Horrors in an depressing, fully grounded way from the voiceboxes of colorful robits languishing in the post-horizon of a war that destroyed their whole worlds.

Im obsessed with these colors. And the image of all these damn robits around a PYRE. It's so weirdly, awkwardly human and this all just looks so vulnerable and lost. All their weird boxy shape against the organic swirls of fire.

Who TF Is Grimlock--

[robinofinashiro]

request from anon: “Hi, can I request yandere alphabet for Kyojuro Rengoku 👉👈Thank you and have a good day Queen.”

pairing: yandere! kyojuro rengoku x fem reader

request status: OPENED

A - Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

rengoku does not give a singular fuck who sees him when it comes to giving you affection! you’re in the public? you’ll be holding his hand, kissing your cheek when he feels like it, and if it’s that bad, he’ll do a quickie in the bathroom. 

B - Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

very messy! he doesn’t care. if he sees someone getting too close to you, he’ll make sure to get rid of them as soon as possible. he can’t let anyone get close to you. he’ll go to the ends of the earth to make sure that you’re by his side and that no one comes in between the two of you. 

C - Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

honestly, he’ll mock the hell out of them when he feels like it’s necessary. if you’re purposely doing things to annoy him or going out of your way to piss him off, he’ll make sure to remind you that you’re never leaving him. other than that, he’ll treat you like you’re a princess! you deserve everything in the world and he’ll give it to you if he feels like you deserve it. 

D - Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

despite from the sweet nature that he gives off, he will do ONE thing against your will and that’s to have kids. he needs to continue his family line and since Senjuro isn’t working to be a pillar anymore, he needs to make sure that someone continues that and it might have to be his kid. 

E - Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

rengoku, when he feels like the time is right, will bare everything to his darling. come on now, you’re gonna be his wife, right? it’s only right that you know what his baggage is! he doesn’t care if you judge him or not, when it comes to this sort of thing, he kinda wears his heart on his sleeve. 

F - Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

he would be kinda pissed. you’re supposed to be this perfect wife/darling and by you acting out, he doesn’t sit well with that. why can’t you be more like Sanemi’s wife? a perfect little darling that just sits there and waits for her husband like she should. punishment is a whole other ballgame that i will touch on later. 

G - Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

absolutely tf not. how can this be a game to someone? rengoku is the kinda person where if he meets someone that he falls madly in love with, he’ll stick by you until one of you dies first and even then, he might commit sewerslide if you happen to be the one to go first. however, he might get a kick watching you trying to leave him bc it’s nearly impossible to leave where you’re trapped.

H - Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

rengoku’s affection, jesus christ. that shit could get mad annoying. if he’s had a particularly bad day, just brace yourself and let it happen bc he will be one affectionate mf. it could get to the point where he’ll be affection even into the next day if it’s that bad. 

I - Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

literally a picture perfect life. (very much the american dream in a sense). he wants kids, hell, if you want pets of some sort, he’s down to adopt a few dogs or whatever you or your kids want. he just wants everyone to see that his family is perfect and how far he’s willing to go for them. 

J - Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

oh absolutely. rengoku is the type of mf that if he sees someone flirting with his darling, he’s ending that shit QUICK. he cannot and will not let it happen. clearly it isn’t your fault so he’ll console you that you had no way of knowing what that scums intentions were and after he’s done with that, he’ll try to find the person to give them a lesson. 

K - Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling

he will be very clingy like i said. he wants everyone to know that his relationship is perfect but in private, double that. he’ll make sure that you know you’re loved and that he wouldn’t trade his life with you for anything in the world. 

L - Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

he would try the attempt to court you at first. rengoku is someone who is very charming so 8/10 times, it’ll work. however, if you’re being stubborn, that’s when the other side of rengoku comes out. but if you do decide to date him willingly, he’s the sweetest mf ever. he’ll bring you courting gives to every date, etc, etc. 

M - Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

honestly, rengoku is seen as the black sheep in the sense that he’s always readily happy and enthusiastic. not much changes when he’s in the public. unless you happen to piss him off in public, seemingly the only time when he would change his personality. 

N - Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

he doesn’t try to do it often, he hates seeing you hurt. but if you happen to actually piss him off to the point where you need to be punished, anything ranging from being alone for days to sexual punishment (that i wont be going into detail for).

O - Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

not many tbh. you have free range into his entire estate. however if he has maids working around, they know it’s best for them not to talk to you. he wont let you leave his estate to speak to anyone. you have the right to anything as long as you’re not trying to leave or get into contact with someone. he’ll even let you visit your friends or family as long as he’s there. 

P - Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

eh, he’s about 50/50. he can be very patient with you or be ticked off almost immediately. more than likely tho, he’ll deal with your shit most days. the days that he doesn’t, it’s probably bc he had already probably had a bad day and you’re just making shit worse. 

Q - Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

if you die, rengoku won’t move on and like i said before, he’d probably commit sleep forever. if you escape, he’ll spend the rest of his days looking for you. regardless if you escape or die, he won’t move on. you’re his and you will remain that way important person in his life. 

R - Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

to a certain point, he’d feel guilty. i think the only thing eating him up is the unethical part in all of this. the fact that he’s basically abducted you and refuses to let you go. but will he ever let you go? absolutely not. you’d have to kill him before that happens. 

S - Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

i see the only way this happening is bc of his life. his childhood wasn’t the greatest but it wasn’t exactly the worst so idk, i think more than anything it was out of curiosity and probably seeing others do it that make him snap. 

T - Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

if rengoku isn’t at fault for making you upset, he’s HEARTBROKEN. he doesn’t like seeing you that way and he’ll find the person that did it and make them pay for it. HOWEVER, if he was the cause of it, he almost turns into a wall and brushes it off, probably murmuring that you deserved whatever it is that made you cry. 

U -Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

honestly no. he wouldn’t only bc he’s very much the person that finds the classics of being a yandere as the only way to do it. anything like killing your darling or along those lines are way to extreme for him and he doesn’t like it when others step out of line. 

V - Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

SENJURO RENGOKU. his little brother is also his world and i think if you catch kyojuro in a situation where you can exploit senjuro, he might give in but honestly, it probably won’t hurt and it’ll be worse for you when he finally has you alone. 

W - Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

like i said before, only if it was necessary. he wouldn’t ever intentionally hurt you if you didn’t deserve it. he doesn’t like seeing you hurt and he hates seeing you cry so only if it came to you being a brat would he then actively physically punish you. 

X - Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

ehhhhhh, not really. he sees this relationship as 50/50 however he did kinda worship you when he wasn’t your boyfriend/husband but he would go different lengths in order to win you over. he doesn’t really care what he has to do, he will make you his whether you like it or not. 

Y - Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

tbh, it doesn’t take long before he snaps. if he sees you going out with someone and he feels like you might leave him, that’ll be a point. if he sees you being too free, that might be another point. in general, less than a year before he snaps. hell, less than half a year. 

Z - Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

mentally, YES! physically, if he needed to. but not to the point where he’s killed you. 

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 318: On Your Left

Previously on BnHA: The Hawksquad+Lurkers were all “well this sucks” and sat around a bit talking about how maybe they should actually come up with a new plan that is actually good, but then in the end they were like “nah.” Deku was all, “THERE’S SOMETHING INSIDE ME THAT PULLS BENEATH THE SURFACE!! CONSUMING, CONFUSING!! THIS LACK OF SELF CONTROL I FEAR IS NEVERENDING. IT’S HAUNTING HOW I CANT SEEM TO FIND MYSELF AGAIN. MY WALLS ARE CLOSING IN.” Just, literally that whole entire song. All Might was all “Deku you should take care of yourself, try eating a thing,” and Deku was all “BYE, ALL MIGHT,” and just LEFT. He left!!! What the fuck!!!

Today on BnHA: Endeavor is all, “maybe if Deku didn’t listen to All Might he’ll listen to me instead.” Deku is all, “[doesn’t listen to Endeavor]” because, well, yeah. The Vestiges are all, “surprisingly, even we are a little concerned -- maybe you should get some rest, kid.” Deku is all, “((Ò ‸ Ó)).” The Vestiges are all, “holy shit.” Deku is all, “[wanders the ruined city streets terrifying the populace on account of him looking like Shelob had a baby with one of the Nazgul].” Some shriveled-up puppeteer villain asshole is all, “HORIKOSHI SAID IT’S MY TURN TO ATTACK DEKU TODAY SO I AM GOING TO SUMMON MY FRIGHTENED HELPLESS ATTACK MOB!!” Kacchan is all “WHADDYA MEAN THEY FOUND THE NERD!!! -- oh wait, that’s me, I found him. I found the nerd, you guys.” And just in time, too. I was about to owe a whole lot of people a whole lot of dollars.

so I have been super good about spoilers this week as always, but let me tell you guys, for the past 36 hours my dash filters have basically been nonstop “manga spoilers” this and “bnha 318” that, and so I’m coming in with a fair amount of hype here. your move, Horikoshi

oh, good! they got Endeavor to call Deku to try to talk him out of it. what a great and wonderful plan

“listen up kid, you haven’t slept since March and you are basically a walking biohazard right now, I’m just telling it like it is. didn’t you get shot like three times?? and there was a whole thing about how you urgently needed medical attention?? and supposedly we gave it to you, but I mean you haven’t even changed your clothes and don’t seem to have any fresh bandages or anything, so did we?? did we, really?? and also we all got blown up yesterday, so yeah.” hmm he’s making some reasonable points here you guys, but you sure do go on and on, Endeavor

oh he says foreign aid is finally on its way! I’m sure they’ll be very helpful. I mean in fairness they can hardly be worse than the home-grown heroes at this point

hey Enji, could you maybe try appealing to Deku the sixteen-year-old human boy, as opposed to Deku The World’s Last Hope? he does have value beyond his quirk. I know that’s always been an incredibly difficult concept for you to grasp, but could you maybe TRY, jesus

and also we’re worried about you as a person?? you’re just a kid and you’re pushing yourself way too hard?? you were going to say that part next, right. why the hell didn’t Hawks make this call instead

“don’t worry about me... I’m completely fine” Deku you do understand that saying it over and over again doesn’t actually make it true

and again with the rush!! all the rush rush rush!! we’re running out of time, we can’t let AFO and Tomura keep getting stronger, I have to end this now, there’s no time to rest, etc. etc. etc. just the constant pressure of this whole big countdown on top of everything else

holy shit, you KNOW it’s bad when even the Vestiges are telling him to chill

these guys are basically the walking talking embodiments of self-sacrifice; if even they’re telling him he needs to take five, then he must seriously be like half a step away from death’s door

OH SHIT LMAO

DIDN’T EVEN LET HIM FINISH HIS SENTENCE BEFORE HE SENT HIM INTO THE FUCKING SHADOW REALM WITH THAT FUCKING LOOK. HOLY FUCK. DIDN’T EVEN KNOW IT WAS POSSIBLE TO DIE TWICE. SHIT

(ETA: so I’m pretty sure this was just Danger Sense activating and so he cut them off to go do more hero stuff, but I’m gonna go ahead and stick to my original interpretation anyway lol.)

anyway so how’s everybody doing. we all good? En, you good? Banjou? Shino? I’m imagining you guys all curled up in a little ball on the floor right now lol. can’t say I blame you though, no shame

lmaoooooooooooo

“SHEESH.” sheesh indeed, lmao. “what in the FUCK was that”

see, this is why y’all need Kacchan. you need someone who’s not going to back down from him no matter what. if it’s a matter of out-stubborning Midoriya fucking Izuku, then there’s only one other person on the planet capable of that, and we all know it. don’t pretend like you don’t. I am not going to shut up about this! we’ve had our hurt so now what about SOME COMFORT, DAMMIT

“I’m afraid that he’s becoming influenced by my conscience” nah are you kidding Nana this is all 100% made-in-Japan pure original Deku right here

see, Banjou gets it. “that kid, he’s totally going on his own.” exactly. this was so inevitable it was basically scientific law

“well I for one don’t see the problem with Deku being so obsessed with saving everyone else that he pushes himself until his body and soul literally fall apart” okay, whose speech bubbles are these?? we’re about to have words

lol of course

well you always did prefer the direct route didn’t you. but even you can’t possibly think this is okay lol

dark AU!Kacchan please tell us more about your badass doomed timeline in which everything went to shit and you apparently had the same character arc that Deku is having right now except it somehow made you sexier instead of turning you into a rabid t-rex. I have so many questions

oh so now you want to help??? well -- good, actually. sorry if that sounded offended just now lol

(ETA: so at first when I got to the end of this chapter I was wondering if Katsuki B. had somehow summoned his alternate-universe counterpart through trippy OFA space telepathy lol. but in the original Japanese there’s no reference to “we”, so this appears to be a mistranslation. this line should probably read more like “if there’s something/someone out there that would be able to complement/complete the current Midoriya Izuku [it would be]…” which, oh hello, is that Horikoshi once again reaffirming that Deku and Bakugou complete each other lol. “guess what guys, the Vestiges ship it too" heck yeah. they know what’s up!)

look how admiring his boyfriends are. HORIKOSHI GIVE US THE REST OF THIS BACKSTORY ALREADY GODDAMMIT

“meanwhile somewhere in the depths of the ruined city, Deku was having a dance-off with the villains”

I like how the villains all have this “AHH WHAT THE FUCK” kind of body language to them lol. I mean if it were me, and an eldritch horror suddenly clawed its way from the shadows with its writhing glowy tentacles and pants-shitting nuclear death stare, I would probably just die on the spot. no need to stick around. only pain awaits

lol for a minute I thought this was Can’t Ya See-kun and I was like “WHAT A FASCINATING CROSSING OF PATHS” but it’s just some random girl

he seems genuinely confused lol

Deku it’s because you look like something that crawled out of a sewer drain, sweetheart

lol they just took his word for it?

so trusting. even though they’re immediately hauling ass anyway just to be safe lmao

“my appearance is frightening to others” no shit Deku it’s because you look like a fucking alien exorcism. you look like a Lich that got caught up in an oil spill my dude

NO NOT THE CHOSEN ONE ANGST AGAIN

I RAN OUT OF ESSAY JUICE FOR THIS ALREADY HORIKOSHI!! I’VE BEEN TALKING ABOUT IT FOR MONTHS NOW WHAT TOOK YOU SO LONG!! BUT ANYWAYS, GOOD!! I MEAN, BAD, THOUGH, OBVIOUSLY. BUT YES

“ENJOY THIS MONTAGE OF DEKU BATTLING A RANDOM KAIJU AND WANDERING THE WOODS LIKE A DERANGED GREEN BABA YAGA” okay yes but sir, exactly how much longer is this going to go on. if it’s a matter of you wanting to make sure we get it, let me assure you that aside from a few stray chuunis who think that Deku embracing the Darkness is the coolest thing he’s ever done, all of us here in fandom fully comprehend that this is Not Good

-- OH SO IT’S LIKE THAT

really. with the flashbacks to his loved ones’ smiling faces and everything. not even gonna try to aim above the belt, huh

AND NO KACCHAN??! NO CLASSMATES?!?! IS HE PURPOSELY NOT THINKING OF THEM??? OR ARE THEY BEING SAVED FOR THE NEXT PAGE??? SO HELP ME, IF THE NEXT PART OF THIS SENTENCE IS “CAN PROTECT THEM”, OR EVEN WORSE, “CAN SEE THEIR SMILING FACES AGAIN”, I...

WHAT DID I JUST SAY

(ETA: my man did Sero and Kaminari fucking dirty lmao. I miss their smiling faces too omg.)

the sheer, unparalleled irony of him saying this while he stands there looking like the gargoyle demon from Fantasia got crossed with an umbrella that got struck by lightning. Deku :(

oi who the fuck is this clown

is he controlling this mob with his evil hair. “what if I made an exhausted, running-on-fumes Deku battle a brainwashed mob at Ground Zero.” Horikoshi do you just have like a checklist of horrible things you want to do to your protagonist

easy there Sasori

well joke’s on you buddy because he’s apparently “completely fine”, so

“here’s to hoping that you know more about AFO’s location than the others” jesus christ Deku you really have hung your mercy out to dry huh

now he’s forcing his mob of terrified prisoners to attack Deku ahhhh. sucks to be them. at least they’re not being controlled by bees

so Deku is saying that Sasori’s control can be broken with “physical trauma.” similar to Shinsou’s quirk I guess. but so does that mean he’s gonna have to hurt them? ( •﹏•)

NO NOT MORE SAD EYES

“DEATH BY EMPATHY!!!” HORIKOSHI NO

fuck. he looks like he’s on the verge of passing out

this is what happens when you nerf a character’s self-preservation stats in favor of spamming their bone-breaking stats instead. NOW ACCEPTING BRAIN CELL DONATIONS FOR A BOY IN NEED!! with your loving generosity we can hopefully help him live to the ripe old age of seventeen

OMGFGGG

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

[grabs your hands] ლ(*꒪ヮ꒪*)ლ [swings you in a circle] へ(ﾟ◇ﾟへ)

THASSSSSSSS WHATSSSSSSS UPPPPPPPPPP

HORIKOSHI REALLY SAID FUCK THAT MASK (ノ°ο°)ノ YOU FINALLY LEARNED!! IT’S CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT!!!!

JUST FOR YOU KACCHAN, HORIKOSHI LEFT THIS ONE BAD GUY WHO’S STILL WEAK TO FIRE. GOD BLESS

IT’S YOUR COUNTERPART, KATSUKI B!!!! HOW WE DOIN OVER THERE IN THE TRIPPY COSMIC OFA SPACE REALM LOL. DO WE BELIEVE YET, FANDOM???

LIGHTS!!!!

INSTANT RESULTS!!! IT’S SUPER EFFECTIVE!!!

(ETA: imagine what this must look like to Deku though. he’s been caught up in this dark cloud of despair and exhaustion that’s been building up over... I’m gonna go ahead and say “weeks”, because yeah. and now he finds himself here, in the place where All Might’s legacy ended and the torch was passed to him. and the world is in ruins, and he’s surrounded by frightened people who are all trying to hurt him -- because who isn’t trying to hurt him, these days -- and he’s scrambling to figure this all out, but meanwhile the weariness is finally starting to catch up to him, and so he’s basically just standing there in a fog of complete and utter misery.

and then all of a sudden through that haze, he hears the one voice that’s more familiar than any other that he knows. like, I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he thought he was just imagining it at first. Kacchan showing up to save him right when he’s at his most desperate and feeling the most alone. Kacchan, showing up to save him.

this is the person he always looked up to as a child (to be fair he was quite a strange child lmao). the person who was even closer to him than All Might. the person he always thought was amazing. and bam, here he is now. appearing in the sky out of nowhere to one-shot the bad guy with a single blast (which, btw, that was his armor-piercing attack too lmao dslkjlk take it easy there kiddo). like, that must have felt absolutely surreal to him, especially coming at a time when he’s already half-delirious and barely hanging on to reality. he must have really thought that he was losing it there for a second.

but he’s really there. it really is him. and for this brief moment -- before the rest of the situation catches up to him, and he remembers about all of the fucked-up AFO stuff, and remembers why he was so afraid and why he was pushing everyone away -- for just this one brief moment, he’s too exhausted and stunned to do anything except to just react. just stands there, looking up at him in awe.

and you know, it almost reminds me of...

just. you guys. the character development. the freaking character development. someone who brings reassurance. someone who shows up and makes you think, “oh, it’s all going to be okay now, because [person] is here.” the role reversals. the growth. the payoff!! because who is the one person who always had faith that Kacchan would one day grow up to become an amazing hero like that. WHO IS IT. YOU ALREADY KNOW.

omg. anyways, bless you Horikoshi, my feels which have been on backorder since fucking September have finally arrived lmao. yes, good, thank you. worth the wait. it is always, always worth the wait. fuck yeah.)

“LOWFRIES” SO YOU’RE TELLING ME THE WHOLE GANG IS HERE, AHHHHHHHH (º̩̩́⌣º̩̩̀ )

BEAUTIFUL. WONDERFUL. SENSATIONAL. I DON’T EVEN CARE THAT JUMP IS ON BREAK NEXT WEEK. THIS RIGHT HERE WILL SUSTAIN ME

[all-things-fic]

Somewhere Only We Know

A/N - Hello, you lovely lot! Hope you are all keeping well in these utterly shit Covid times. Who would’ve thought that we would still be here in December?! Please see my offering for @goldenbluesuit​‘s Christmas Fic Challenge. Hope I’ve done a bit of justice with this piece.

I can remember Katie texting me telling me about the challenge, and I’ll admit I was given first dibs and now I’m absolutely shitting myself because I’ve seen all the brillaint entries so far and I’m not sure I really cut the mustard with this piece but I’m proud of myself for being able to put a solid 70% of this together in just one day (that one day being today).

Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Katie has done a brilliant job and I know how grateful she is towards anyone who has joined the challenge or supported by reading/sharing etc.... I need to stop rambling... Okay, thank you for sticking with me as always and happy reading! .x

***

The last thing you remembered actually reading in the group chat was “make sure you have your wellies”. You were glad that you remembered that part at the very least.

Winds whipped around you as you buried your face further into your cream roll neck cable knit jumper, all but hidden underneath your tobacco borg teddy coat that someone had already likened to Macklemore.

Nothing like being back home with your closest and oldest friends.

Mud squelched under your feet as you walked in line with two of your oldest girl friends, eyes looking over the four males in front of you as they led the way over the grassy hills.

There had been zero planning on what today’s events would bring. It was quite clear that the seven of you just wanted to be reunited with the country air and wind bitten cheeks.

It was nice. How simple it was. On the surface at the very least. That was until you zoned in on the little things. 

Like his laugh. The same laugh that always carried somehow and it seemed like the wind was making it that much more prominent than usual today.

There was no denying, he had this glow about him. Even from the back of him. You felt silly for thinking it, but it was true. It was in the way he held himself as he attacked the grassy hills with his feet clad wellies and brown trousers.

Life had changed a lot in over a decade. Christ, had it been that long? You’d all gone from baby teenagers to fully fledged adults. The age range of your friendship differing slightly, the odd person here and there slightly older than a couple of people in the group.

Nonetheless, many of the experiences had been the same. The big job offers, and the even bigger promotions. The heartbreaks, regardless of their prominence or lack of, had been the felt the same. The flirtation between some of you sparked probably a bit more so now with a finesse that didn’t have you rolling your eyes but rather leaning into it. 

Four out of seven of you were single. Jack and Jonny were virtually married off, however neither of them were with their partners this year with both deciding to spend Christmas at home and New Years with their significant others. Alice was still loved up and going strong with her fella, as was Grace who you hadn’t heard a peep from as she constantly checked her phone to see when the person she was besotted with finally arrived up North thanks to West Midlands Trains pulling into Crewe. 

So that left Will, you and Harry. Harry who had  quite publicly made it known that he was single. Well, according to your Mum he had, in several interviews. Including the one that she had described as an ‘incredibly relaxing watch and nice background noise to my Sunday evening brew and ironing session’. 

That was a strange one for you, his honesty. In earlier years of friendship, he always seemed quite aloof. Like he was keeping his options open. Guarded in a way that frustrated at least 75% of the friendship group, in the nicest way possible. You knew that was a contradiction but any annoyance came from a good place. 

You remembered one night in 2014 when he wouldn’t quite give you a straight answer over tequila shots whether he was shagging someone or not. You also remember the way he’d been pulled away from you tactfully by Alice that night when she sensed how you were about to blow up at his lackadaisical attitude. 

The same had been felt in 2016. Not so much in 2018, but you weren’t single then so maybe you just didn’t care. 

2019 was significantly different though.

See the thing was, you knew him now. Like, knew knew him. 

Some would think it was a lapse of judgment, a reading that you would agree upon given what had happened two days prior if ever prodded about it publicly.

Others would vehemently disagree. Stating how long any sort of energy between the two of you had been bubbling for a number of years. 

Looking back you couldn’t even understand why you’d attended his show. You lived in Camden and it made sense, but that’s where the sense stopped. Even the ways he had reached out had been one of the most random messages you’d received from him

There was no context, just a simple ‘I’m playing the Electric Ballroom and there’s tickets waiting for you if you want ‘em.’

And the thing was, you loved that venue. The grungy-ness of it all. The way you had stuck to the floor while trying to dance along to the likes of The Hives and Kings of Leon when seeing them playing there, basking in your sweaty happiness. 

But the stickiness of the floor and sweatiness of the room didn’t compare to the stickiness and sweatiness you later found yourself partaking in as Harry took you from behind over the side of his couch. 

A shiver rolled through you at the thought, one that you would blame on the December bitter chill because it was a secret. One that neither of you had mentioned since it happened on Thursday night, or to be technically correct the early hours of Friday morning. 

He’d been good. Of course he had been.

He had that way about him that night that pulled you under a false sense of endeared security. From his dimpled smile to gleaming eyes. He was happy. 

And the way he had shone as he found you on the balcony had warmed you like nothing you had known in the longest time.

It caused you to forget about the worry that had laden you limbs as you turned up at 9.13pm to the wooden doors of the building, wondering how many songs he was in to the set as you convinced yourself he would start at 9.00pm.

As you’d been ushered over to a clear box window and uttered your name to a dorky looking man wearing a tracksuit pull over and watched him handover a white envelope through the circle hatch. 

You stood in the dark, next to two much younger girls who enjoyed the way his glances lingered over at their side. Eyes had found Gemma in the opposite corner of the balcony, her dancing and singing with some recognisable faces mainly more so because you had seen them on social media.

You, however, kept yourself to yourself. Until you were anchored in the tightest hug from Gemma that you had ever felt from her and swayed from side to side as she made it known how pleased she was to see you once the concert was over. 

That familiarity had been nice. The vibrancy of nostalgia consuming you in your entirety. 

Watching him work a room when he finally entered the after party was a sight to behold, in his navy blue pinstripe suit and yellow ‘I’m gonna die lonely’ t-shirt. 

He wasn’t. Gonna die lonely, that is. 

He glided so smoothly from one person to the next, spilling a drink down himself in the process you’d seen (and later felt when your hand clung to the fabric of his t-shirt as you kissed), making time for everyone in his own unique way.

Big eyes followed you over Gemma’s shoulder when he had finally found himself within your circle and hugged his sister once more that evening. They were hard to read but also openly filled with a glimmer of hope as he dropped his gaze to see what you were wearing.

And when he approached you, he hugged you in a way that managed to pull you into the darkened corner of the dingy space. Spinning your body to keep your face concealed from any prying eyes. 

He revealed to you how he didn’t think you were going to turn up, scanning you with his gaze as he spoke. You did the same, a bit taken aback by just how attractive you were finding him. He had always been handsome but the aura he gave off, made your fingers itch to have him closer to you. 

Words ran away from you that night as he begged and pleaded with you to tell him what your favourite song had been. Based on first impressions, which the show has been, then Canyon Moon and Watermelon Sugar had smothered you and given you no other option but to pick them.

If he were to ask you now you’d probably say To Be So Lonely, thanks to the drive home being longer than originally thought and said album being your choice of road trip music. 

Forget Driving Home For Christmas, nothing slapped more than one of your closest friends admitting to being an arrogant son of a bitch. 

After your chat, he mingled some more but Harry was always tactile and that night had been no different. He veered conversations with people you had never seen before to take place by the zone that you all occupied.

He actively kept his back against yours, allowing the faintest of touches and brushing of arms - sometimes hands too if he dropped them down heavily enough with his arms as he spoke - to entice and create a spark. 

You were kept late enough to miss the last tube. Battery dangerously low on your phone that you didn’t know if a transaction with Uber would be worth a try. 

Jumping into the same car as him had been easy. His soft and tired eyes findings yours in the cab as he leant his head back against the headrest in the back seat and let his lips tip upwards in an expression of tenderness that had you melting in your seat. 

“‘S been a while since we’ve both been a bit pissed in the back of a taxi,” he mused, pushing his fallen locks out of his eyes to ensure his view of you wasn’t obscured. “Come an’ cuddle me like you used to do when we went out a’ home and were worse for wear.”

Falling into his side was almost second nature, eyes closing as you let your forehead rest against his jawline and let his worn in cologne fill you senses and scatter your judgment.

You don’t even remember how you ended up kissing that night. A mixture of confessions about missing each other and praise of how good you both were in your own ways. The sound of his whispered, “are you coming home wi’me?” against your lips an offer too good for you to refuse as you sat pressed into his side and half in his lap. 

The giggles that night, around dramatic shushes as you tripped and shuffled from the car to his front door were almost haunting in your memory as he tried to chastise you around spluttered laughter about being respectful of his neighbours. 

Getting the key in the lock proved unchallenging -  one of the better analogies aligned to your memories and latter sexual endeavours - as you slipped into the house. He enjoyed watching the way you walked ahead of him into his home, not realising how much he needed that visual of seeing how well you fit in. 

While time seemed to slow in that moment, movements desperately sought the opposite. Hands gripped and clawed like their lives depended upon it. 

Looking back now, both he and you wished it hadn’t happened the way it did. Skirt lifted and over the side of his couch. Teeth clashing and hips knocking.

It had been every inch a drunken fumble. A first meeting slightly cheapened but wanted nonetheless. Only made even cheaper by the hush-hush concealing of it ever occurring. 

But a secret it was and a secret it would remain. 

And oh how you wished you had a pillow you could press you face into right now and scream, this time for an entirely different reason. Unlike that night. 

“Not seen a sign of any deer yet, mate,” you heard a voice break you out of your indulgence of recollecting past events. Harry was the worst at wanting to get a reaction. 

“Christ, have a bit of patience would yer?”

You smiled at the bickering, just like it always was as the River Dane could be heard in the distance somewhere as you walked. If you listened really close, that is. 

Lifting your eyes, your smile lingered as you watched Harry spin his body around and let his hands get lost in the massive pockets of his parka. He walked backwards holding your gaze softly with his eyes twinkling before he gently rolled them at the overreaction and impatience of your friends.

He seemed pleased that you’d enjoyed his teasing as you once again hid you smile into your jumper. 

You’d be alright.

***

You heard giggles and screams ahead of you as your friends stumbled in the dark and messed about as you got closer to the viaduct. This place or the people didn’t change, and at times while it filled you with a warm nostalgia, it could be heavily jarring.

A soft and lazy smile pulled at your lips as you felt his heavy forearm lightly tug you closer to him, his lips finding your hair. And then there was Harry. 

“Think we should go this way m’self,” Harry mumbled, the nudge of his hips against yours had you stumbling slightly in your heels away from the direction of your friends and somewhere completely different. 

“And why’s that?” You turned your face slightly, cheeks warm and flushed thanks to the mixture of alcoholic beverages; eyes glazed as they lifted up to look at him. 

“Cause you never would’ve let me when I was sixteen,” he admitted. 

“You didn’t ask.”

“‘M askin’ now.” 

With slow blinking eyes, you looked at his own unfocused vision. A soft shine to his skin, hair blowing gently against his forehead. The softest of smiles tilted at your lips.  

“On yer go,” he nudged you forward, this time more so with his crotch and his hands, which wrapped around your hips to help steer you. Harry was met with only a small amount of resistance from you as you split off from your friends and turned in the different direction. 

You bit back your laugh, dropping your head slightly as you felt your heels started to sink into the grass as you walked. Harry was level with you when you sunk down noticing the way you legs slightly gave way, a soft chuckle omitting from his throat as he asked, “You alrigh’?”

“I’m sinking in these bloody things,” you grumbled, pulling your heel from the grass and trying to place the sole of your shoe onto the ground beneath you first. 

“So much for no’ being able to take the country out o’ the girl. London’s changed yer, swear it.”

Shaking your head, you cut your eyes to give him a harsh stare for his wind up. His amused expression lit a fire in you like no other. He really wasn’t one to talk though, was he? 

“Gi’me your hand ‘ere,” he held his out to you, quickly cupping it when you handed it over and pulled it under his bent elbow. “Remind me again who’s idea this was, eh?”

He didn’t need reminding, he had been one of the keen instigators for the whole jaunt down Twemlow Viaduct. It usually was him, or Jack. The two of them often reminiscing on times they had both raided their parents' alcohol cupboards and managed to sneak out with some dusty bottle that held a liquor that tasted out of date and stale, and if not that then, cheap. 

“‘S still fucking freezing down ‘ere, in’it?” He asked, lifting his left hand up to his mouth and blowing against it to try and get some feeling back into his fingers.

“We’re so close to the river, I don’t know why you’d expect anything different?”

“Is this why everyone was always so insistent on necking anything with over 11% alcohol in it when we came down ‘ere as kids?”

“Probably,” you softly laughed. 

“‘S a bit different now though innit?”

“Oh, I’m not so sure,” you started to correct him, shrugging your hand out from under his elbow and reaching for your bag. Quickly fumbling with the clasp, you lifted up the quilted flap and managed to pull out the stainless steel hip flask.

Harry cackled a harsh laugh, his eyes crinkling as he slowly let his laughter die down and softly let his joy wash over his features. “Impressive. Gone all proper on me.”

“You know I haven’t,” you held his eyes watching as he nervously cupped at the back of his neck for a short while, a gentle bite down of his bottom lip, as you quickly uncapped the item and held it out to him. He looked like he needed the courage.  You continued, “We’re just a bit more refined, that and we earn a good living. Some more than others, and by some I mean you.” 

He held his hand up towards you with an amused grin at your comment. “You first, ‘s yours after all.” 

Lifting the item and knocking back your head, you swallowed the whiskey with a small grimace, before offering it to Harry once more. This time he accepted, his right hand making light work of taking the item from your hands and sipping at the contents.

His face wasn’t as contorted as your’s when he swallowed, a fan of the chosen beverage if needs must. “‘S the proper stuff, tha’ is,” he commented with a quick lick of his lips before continuing, “Come a long way from sneaking the bottles of dusty Blossom Hill from the back of the cupboard.”

“Don’t know about that,” you smiled, taking the item and pushing it back into your bag. “I’d still drink if, if it were on offer.”

“‘M sure Mum’s got a bottle or two going at home?”

“Is that your way of asking me to go home with you?” You paused. “Again.”

Harry remained silent at your words. Both you and he knew it was going to happen. A mixture of sparks and lovelorn, lingering glances was enough to make anyone both want to give up, while also giving a burning confidence usually unknown. 

Neither of you expected it would be you who started the conversation, however. 

“It is, ‘f it’s gonna work. ‘M not sure I could wait any longer t’be’onest wi’yer.“

Laughing, you reached up to push at his shoulder. He always knew exactly what to say, but no way was he going to make a laughing stock of the whole thing. “Oh, give over,” you spoke, harshly swallowing when he kept your hand against the thick cable knit black jumper he had on. “You’ve made it this far, thus far just fine.” 

“‘M not playin’,” he whispered, hand gently curling around your own and lifting it up to press against his face. His cheeks were warm underneath the cooler hands, despite the cold night whipping around you both and your mind quickly wondered if he was just as embarrassed for his lack of acknowledgment as you had been. “Homes nice, you’re nicer.”

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about it,” you let your soft voice get taken by the wind.

“An’ what gave you tha’ impression?”

He did. He gave you that impression. By not mentioning it. By treating you how he always did.

“You.”

“Me?” Harry responded, indignantly, blowing out a sigh that had his cheeks puffing out underneath your hand. “‘M not doing a very good job then am I? I can’t keep m’eyes off o’you. ‘S not my fault you don’t bloody notice ‘em.”

But you had noticed them. 

His eyes, gaze following your every move, near enough. Stupid little touches. Glances of approval. Not just now, but from years before. 

Treating you how he always did.

Oh, treating you how he always did.

Bringing your eyes back to his figure, you saw the way his gaze darted and nervousness dragged at his features. A frown began to set itself between his eyebrows from worry. 

“Changes everything.”

Running his tongue along his teeth, Harry pursed his lips. “Everythin’ has changed, changed a long time ago an’all.” 

You dropped your hand down, it now massaging against the back of his neck and shoulder as you felt the tension of his body radiating through his clothes. Under the dim moonlight and the odd spotlight that had been added to the viaduct with each passing year for safety, Harry exhumed everything anyone would want in a boyfriend. He was soft, and so bloody gorgeous. Not just because he was personification of an almost six foot tall string of handsomeness, but his character did the talking for him.

He knocked the door before he walked into a room, for example. Who really did that kind of thing anymore? 

But you could also still see the heartbreak that lingered, albeit not as strong as it once was, it was still there. And that was problematic and scary. To be on the receiving end of it. Not that you would hold it against him, because you had been him at one point too. At many points in fact. 

When the two of you had shagged, because let’s face it that is exactly what it had been, while a sense of familiarity in the person was prevalent it was definitely overruled by the desire to just hit a euphoric high that if hit right could not be topped. 

Familiar overruled in other aspects, and it wasn’t to be brushed away. But was familiarity a mask that would slip sooner rather than later? Was it the start and the end?

The both of you experienced similarities in your life that could not be matched by the friends in your friendship group. London had chewed you up and spat you out, ruthlessly so. While rewarding you with long hours but fat pay cheques, careers that catapulted you to new heights and enabled you to see parts of the world that two country kids (which in one way you were) could never have imagined. 

Sure Harry’s had been on a much, much larger scale - you would not ever deny that - but you no longer fit in. 

And neither did he. 

This was a place that only the two of you knew. A place where you watched those around you fall in love and have the time to do so. A place where your friend's happiness was created a lot easier than it wasn’t and allowed a sense of success to weave its way in, through the most unexpected of happenings.

Not a place where you found happiness in your work because there was less of a space for happiness to blossom elsewhere. Not really. Not like you; both of you. 

Understanding was vital. 

This had been a place you knew like the back of your hand. A place that had you feeling the earth beneath your feet, fresh air in your lungs and had at times made it so you found yourself sitting by a river and finding yourself feeling complete. 

Yet looking over at the almost 26 year old, that just wasn’t the case anymore. 

And for once you didn’t feel alone. 

The sound of the odd piece of cobbled pavement underneath Harry shoes, buried beneath overgrown grass and plants, broke you from your thoughts, as you watched him kick at the ground and scuff his shoes.

He sighed, head tilted back before he knocked it to the side and caught your eyes. A small scoffed laugh left his lips as he shook his head and dropped his gaze to his feet.

“‘S it fucked?”

You hummed, a small frown lacing your features.

“Fucked it, haven’t I? Fuckin’- idiot-“ he breathed out a noise as he clenched his teeth, one that wasn’t quite a growl but enough to let you know he was agitated. Only strengthened by how tight his jaw became. 

Before you could even think, the back of your hand gently brushed against the pulsing hinge of his jaw. Muscles taut as you tried to soothe him in a way that your mind was screaming was far too intimate.

You didn’t want him having any internal battle about right and wrong. Not when you had both taken the same steps to get here. 

“Thought it was just meant as a one time thing,” you admitted. “Like you needed it, and I needed it. Was what it needed to be at the time. Bit rough, bit sloppy-“

You cringed are the use of the word. Wanting the ground to swallow you in a weird fashion. You should be able to talk open and honestly with someone who you had known longer than hadn’t. 

“Rough?“ Harry swallowed audibly, his face fallen. “That’s not-“ 

His eyes held an emotion similar to sorrow at the mention of the word. “That’s not the impression I wanted to give you.” 

“We were both drunk, it happens.” 

“Not with me it doesn’t. Not when it’s me, wanting to be wi’you.”

“I mean I was into it if that helps anything?” 

“Were yer?”

You looked at him from the corner of your vision, watching his lips try to fight a smile as you rolled yours into your mouth to not give yourself away. You knew what you were trying to do by speaking those words aloud but you wished you hadn’t. Awkward breathy laughs were shared by the two of you as you held his eyes. 

“Was I?”

You hummed in agreement to answer his question, letting your smile dance along your lips now and watching as Harry’s dimples started to show. His expression was youthful, slightly smug. 

“Good t’know.”

***

Finishing saying your goodbyes to your friends and ignoring their suggestive expression because ‘Harry was stopping as an extra pair of hands’, you shut the heavy wooden door and reached up to close the deadbolt lock at the top. Shortly after, you let your feet drop as you stopped standing on your tiptoes and pressed your forehead against the door. 

The silence of the pub was always a strange one to you. A place that was usually thriving, whether it was just your friends, or your parents friends. When the lights were turned out, it was actually quite a lonely place. Regardless of growing up around this sort of industry your entire life and having parents as publicans nothing was more depressing than an empty bar, lifeless and nothing like it was intended.

A suggested lock-in from Jack, who managed to interrupt both yours and Harry’s conversation earlier had not been a bad shout after all. You knew it meant that you would have to deal with the fallout with it being Christmas Eve, but it wasn’t very often that you found yourself in the setting. 

Turning to move from the door, you almost jumped out of your skin when you heard the opening of a familiar Lily Allen song start to play over the speakers. 

Harry emerged from the corner of the pub that housed the jukebox, slowly rubbing his hands together before he wordlessly picked up the scattered pint glasses that had remained on one of the tables that had been missed by the staff on the evening shift. His eyes glanced over at you, as you stood with a hand to your chest.

This wicked smile and gleam washed over his face as he paused his movement. “Did I scare yer?”

“Do you not think it’s a bit loud?”

He wrinkled his nose at you, a soft shake of his head no, to answer your question. 

“‘S your fave innit?” He asked, head nudging to where the jukebox was now hidden.

With a small smile you nodded, “Prefer the Keane version in all honesty.”

“Don’t have it in the bloody jukebox though, d’yer? Can’t like it that much.”

Your smile deepened at his exclaim and how prominent his accent sounded as he spoke, the small clink of the glasses he was holding only heard if you really zoned in. 

“Where d’yer want these?” He asked, holding up the five pint glasses he had collected. “Behind t’bar?”

Humming, you nodded and watched as he weaved his way through the tables to you. You frowned as he got closer, not understanding why he hadn’t bypassed you completely.

Once he was close enough to you, you watched as he reached for what you knew to be your own glass of wine that was almost finished. 

“Fancy the rest of this or can it go too?”

Looking at him and down to the glass, you gently wrapped your hand around it and brought the lip to your mouth. You knocked the item back quickly, swallowing the rest of your wine, before handing over the now empty glass back to Harry.

“Good girl,” he joked, light laughter lacing each word. “Sit yourself down.”

Wearing an amused and quizzical expression, you let yourself sink down into the wooden chair. Resting your chin on your hand, you spun slightly in your seat to keep your eyes on Harry as he placed the glasses down and lifted the hatch so he could step behind the bar. 

With your free hand, you started to tap the worn beer coaster labelled with the Cheshire Brewhouse logo against the table. Part of you hated how Harry had a knack for anything, including knowing his way around a bar. 

He busied himself with collating the glasses once more as you let your eyes take in the surroundings you had known, loved and even grown out of. 

Your parent’s pub was cosy and friendly. A truly 

classic and quintessential British village pub, featuring open fires, bookcases found in the very far corner or the jukebox in the other, lots of old oak and a really pleasant garden with benches for the summat and heaters for the winter. You know the kind that had its regulars that had kids who had seen each other grow up.

The bar was the centre of the pubs house, with an extensive array of whiskies amongst many other delights. A nice range of local ales and a well-balanced, great quality list of wines on offer designed (which you would be taste testing if the service hadn’t decided to take a break) to complement the food menus designed daily by a team of chefs who all have a passion for great cooking using fresh, seasonal and local ingredients.

It looked as Christmassy as Christmas could get, with a real tree which was locally sourced from one of the many surrounding farms and traditionally decorated with golds and reds. Twinkly lights shone, not only on the trees but as part of the garland that was hung above the bar each year, much to the annoyance of your Dad and the delight of your Mum.

Slowly dragging your eyes back to the bar, you watched Harry as he poured you another glass of white wine and started to recap the bottle. He must’ve felt your eyes on him, his gaze meeting yours almost immediately. 

“Service is a bit slow,” you jibed, once you knew he was with you. “Going to ruin the reputation of a fine establishment.”

His chuckle was breathy in response, but warmed you through as he turned his back and pushed his tumbler glass up against the device at the bottom of the Glenfiddich distilled malt whiskey, not once but twice going for a double. 

“Helping yourself to the stock now, as well.” 

“‘M sure your Dad won’t mind,” he responded, twisting his body back around to reach for your own glass and place it onto a tray that sat along the bar top. “In fact he’d probably make a comment about how it’d put hairs on m’chest.”

You laughed, unrestrained, knowing just how right he had been with that comment. 

Over the otherside of the room, Harry smiled and shushed you as he walked closer, easily holding the tray with your drinks upon it. “Being a bit loud,” he taunted as he slid the tray down to the oak table.

“Oh, now you’re concerned about the noise.”

With his hand against the back of the chair which was currently housing your outstretched legs, you felt him start to wobble the seat to give you a warning. 

“Hang on,” you said, “Plenty of other chairs.”

“This one’s mine,” he responded.

Wanting to roll your eyes but deciding not to, you let your legs drop down and gave the seat back to Harry. Once he was comfortable and he’d taken your drink off the tray, he gestured with his right hand.

Not entirely focused, he had to do the ‘come hither’ motion a couple of times before you finally cottoned on. He was willing to let you put your legs on his lap instead, while he may have taken the seat it didn’t mean he wanted to take away your comfort.

No sooner had your legs been raised to rest against his tan washed velvet corduroy trousers, was he fiddling with the buckle of your stiletto sandals.

“Got mud everywhere,” you commented, wiggling your toes that were painted a festive red and inspecting the little dots of dirt that were splattered against your skin, as Harry dropped the first shoe to the floor and quickly worked on the second. “Dread to think what they smell like.”

“Smell alrigh’ from ‘ere,” he mused, smirk faint but glaring obvious in his tone of voice as he threw a quick and mischievous glance at you. As you elongated your foot against his thighs, the tips of your toes were just about able to press into his thick jumper to try and jab at him for his comment. 

Before you were able to put any sort of force behind your action, Harry’s hand clamped down around the top of your foot causing your eyes to snap up away from his hand and up to his eyes.

There he sat watching you, top two teeth pressed into his bottom lip keep his smile at bay. Releasing his lips slowly, his whispered threat left his throat, “I will tickle.”

You tried to fidget away but to no avail. With a whined laugh, you frowned as Harry goaded you by slowly raising his eyebrows. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

You had tried him. 

Truth be told you wanted to again.

If he wanted to.

Reaching for your wine, you took a hefty sip and let the silence swallow you both. Harry, who kept his hand on your foot and his fingers dancing gently against the top, let his head fall back awkwardly against the hardwood. His head dropped to the side taking in his surroundings and their familiarity. 

“Do you ever get tired of coming back?” 

You hummed, sure you had misheard due to the way the blood was rushing around your ears. He turned to look at you, all double chin and puffy cheeks.

“Of everything being the same, but different?”

His whispers captivated you, hushed confessions not quite meant for anyone else but his own mind yet spilling from him with such an ease that he did nothing to fight them. 

“I’ll admit, I come home for other people. Not for me.”

“People?”

“Mum, Dad,” you paused. “You.”

His smile deepened. His chin knocking down to his chest, his eyes looking up at you from underneath his curling hair from being caught in the moist winter evening just hours before.

“You can stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you did three nights ago.”

Harry breathed in deeply, his nostrils flaring and his chest expanding. A lick of his lips, before his mouth dropped to sit slightly agape. 

“What if I don’t wan’to? What if I want t’look at yer like this all the time?”

You found yourself unable to respond, nose burying itself into your wine glass as you pressed your lips against the cool outside to try and hide your burning smile. 

His lips curled lightly, before he breathed a laugh once and gently shook your foot with his hand. “Eh? Come ‘ere-“

“Harry,” you breathed.

“C’mon, c’mere. ‘S room for more than just your feet.”

If it wasn’t for the creak of your chair as you slowly started to push yourself out of it, you wouldn’t have consciously been aware of how you were making your way to him. 

His body relaxed, somehow managing to become closer to horizontal than sitting upright in his seat, as he peered as you walking the short distance over to him. 

With his legs widened, he pressed his face into your side now that you were close enough. His nose inhaled the familiar scent of your perfume which was only faint now due to the other senses and scents it had mixed with throughout the evening.

Rolling his face out of your body, he knocked his head back and pressed his chin where his face had been. The face you showed him was worn with worry, an expression he did not want to meet.

“‘S wrong?”

His ask was lazy. Not wanting to dig deep and know. What if he didn’t like what he found? 

“We know how this is going to end.”

“Do we?” He prodded. His eyes moved over your features quickly before they partly disappeared to him, thanks to your curtain of hair which slowly fell down.

His hand reached up, desperately brushing it away and cupping at the back of your head as best as he could while he remained seated. 

“How’s that? Tell me.”

“Same, but different.” 

You knew you shouldn’t use his words, not in a way that could be considered against him, but they - in the most ambiguous of ways - described everything perfectly. 

“Not if I have my way.” 

His words were almost lost against your stomach as he pressed his face against you once more and wrapped his hands around you; sweaty, nervous palms pressing to the backs of your thighs. 

“Same, but better.”

Harry guided you down to his lap, his lips somehow managing to remain pressed into stomach, or your chest, or your clavicle, as your face became level with his. 

“Different, but better.” 

He kissed against your cheek slowly, nose nudging at your skin as he willed for you to relax against him. “I don’t know how you like it, like this,” he whispered in confession. “Show me?”

A puff of air left your lips as you turned to look at him with hooded eyes. His mouth was closer to yours than you originally thought, corners of lips brushing as you slightly pulled away. 

When your lips met, it was in the softest of pecks that trembled under your nerves. Both sets of eyes looking back at each other as you innocently engaged. 

If you were to take your eyes away from him in any way, you would notice those fluffy curls of his falling over his forehead and the lightest dusting of red blush making itself known against his cheeks and the tops of his ears.

He felt like a school boy, lost and clumsy. The kid who was once again flicking paper at you in science class just so he could pull a face at you over something your teacher was saying to get you to laugh. 

Mouths hovering over each other, your breathing mixed, as Harry nodded to you slightly. You pressed your lips to his once more, feeling the way he gradually opened up to you, warmed and softened underneath the puckering of your mouth against his. 

His hands, that slightly trembled, smoothed over your hips trying to pull your body so that it was more so flush against his. You moaned softly, your hands running over his jumper covered shoulders, fingers digging and pulling at the material just below the nape of his neck. 

The chair beneath you moved lightly against the floor, not quite a scrape but a dull drag. Neither of you broke the kiss, but his hands against you allowed fingers to dig in to hold you steady to him so if you were to fall from where you were sitting, he still had you. 

His lips slowed, moving to press against your cheeks again as he panted and his warmth breath bounced off your skin. “Think I got it,” he heaved. 

“Do you?”

Harry hummed his ‘yea’, before pressing his lips so tenderly to your chin and the underside of your jaw. He felt how you swallowed heavily, throat dry from the way your mouth hung open and your neck further exposed itself as you lolled your head back. 

You were falling further and further back, finding it hard to stay upright as he devoured you and made you weaker with each pulling kiss. His groans were needy, muffled and making your ache. While yours were silent and making his desperate to pull something from you. To build is confidence in that he was doing something right, you liked it this way too. 

Hands fumbled and dragged upwards at your skirt, faintly aware now how it was similar - if not the same one - to the garment you wore to his show. 

“Gonna take this off properly,” he mumbled, feeling the way your hips moved slightly from his hands to roll over him. 

“You don’t have to-“

“No?” 

Your voices were rushed as you spoke to each other, barely audible but loud enough all the same. His head was knocked back slightly as you hovered over him and you found yourself admiring his blissed out face even only in the lead up.

This was a sight that you hadn’t received last time, and if you had your way it was one you were going to greedily enjoy in all its glory.

Like watching the way his eyes closed and he softly grinned, the left side of his teeth started to show as the one side of his face reacted first while your hands blindly moved to lift up his jumper and the white tee he had on underneath, to allow you to find the button of his corduroys.

“What ya doing?”

“Nothing,” you mused. 

He pulled a face, the kind that down turned his lips, eyebrows raised and head slightly tilted to the side. The kind that had you smiling. 

“Not trying to get m’trousers around m’ankles for a second time within a week then?”

You giggled. “No.”

“Please do.”

A low moan left you as you pressed your forehead to his jaw and dropped your eyes. Your hands slowly started to pull at the brass button and pop it open before seeking out the zip thanks to his desperate plea, encouraging you to continue. 

Hands quickly sought out the waistband of the trousers and gently pulled at the item. From the way that you were sat, you knew there was no way you were doing to make them budge.

“Stand up fo’ me,” he mumbled, quickly helping you get off his lap so that he could make light work of his clothing and pull down his trousers and underwear. 

His bare bum made easy contact with the cushion leather beneath him, eyes carefully watching you as your hands moved to underneath your skirt. 

The fabric of your underwear slipped so easily down your legs, his eyes just about caught the sight of them as they pooled against your ankles and you kicked them away. 

Legs pressed together, you slowly untucked the v-necked blouse you had chosen and pulled it over your head. Wearing nothing but a fancy black bra, and a tight little skirt you hastily snatched for your wine and took a hefty gulp.

You could feel his eyes on you, a gruff groan catching in the back of his throat and when you finally turned your eyes from where they had been looking down at your heaving chest and how great this bra made your boobs look, causing him to move his hand down to start playing with himself. 

His name left your lips in a breathy gasp, causing you to look up quite surprised at the find of his right hand gently tugging at his hard length.

“Keepin’ me waitin’,” he groaned, his left hand sloppily reached for the back of the collar of his jumper and tee, pulling the item roughly over his head.

“Fuck sake,” he mumbled under his breath, agitated that he was unable to get both items of in one go.

“Smooth.”

Harry stared up at you with a playful squint, before he gently fell back and moved the chair as he did so, the dull scrape heard once more. 

And if you didn’t know he was flushed before, when you first kissed, you were definitely aware now. His eyes were blown out and hungry as they devoured you. Hair wildly haphazard before he let go of himself with a soft slap of his skin and harshly pushed his fingers through it.

“‘S it still a couple of quid for a strip of three,” his words brought you back to him. This smugness radiated off of him as he groaned and leaned forward to push his trousers down all of the way. Over his vans and socked feet, before he toed them off as well be harshly pulled at his white sport socks. 

You didn’t even need for him to explain what he meant, staying silent as you watched his hands tug at his corduroys from the floor and retrieve his wallet. As his fingers moved around to find a couple of quid, the jangle of the coins was taunting. 

One leg crossed over the other, you swayed and found yourself blushing when he looked up at you once he’d managed to find enough money and then some. With his wallet thrown on the table, he stood proudly from the seat and closed the short gap between your both.

Leaning forward he easily took your lips with his own before pulling away. With his face still close to yours he whispered, “Promise not to look at my arse.”

He didn’t hang around long enough for your reply, instead turning away and brazenly giving you all the time you would ever need to admire him, his fantastic bum and his hairy legs before he opted for a jog-walk type of thing, suddenly conscious that he was absolutely walking around naked from the waist down in a pub owned by your parents. 

While you waited you took a quick pull from his whiskey, needing the heftier burn for Dutch courage. Nervousness returned when you heard the endings of what you believed to be Harry whistling. 

“Machine ate all m’fuckin’ change,” he grumbled, regardless of the twinkle in his eye at the strip of overpriced condoms he had managed to score from the men’s bathroom. “‘S Durex. Business must be booming, your Dad’s definitely gone up in the world.” 

“Please don’t talk about my Dad.”

He smiled brightly before he reached for your face with one hand and pulled you towards him mumbling his ‘sorry’s’ against your lips as he gave you several kisses in quick succession. 

His other arm loosely wrapped around your back and pulled you with him as he walked backwards and slowly lowered himself back onto his previous seat. The chair creaked as you joined him, slipping into his lap and feeling the way he was smiling now.

Pulling away from your kiss, he quickly tore away one of the condoms allowing the others to fall without much care to the floor. Teeth took a hold of the foil-like packaging and he tore it not so elegantly with his eagerness.

With his cock nestled in the crease of his own thigh now, the heat radiating from it matched your own agonising yearning. Scooting back to give him space, you heard him groan as he gently rolled the condom down onto himself. Eyes looking up just in time to see him knocking his head back and breathing deeply through nose. The foil-like packaging was back in between his teeth once more as his hands were otherwise preoccupied.

Slowly your hand reached up to take it from his mouth, feeling some playful resistance as Harry continued to hold it in his teeth. His eyes were open and boyishly sincere, as you tugged at the item and he finally released it when you lightly laughed. 

“Gi’me a kiss.”

Obliging him, you leant forward and slotted your mouths together a lot easier than you had done at the start of the night. A heat built easily between the two of you, as Harry gave you his tongue and you felt the flex of his jaw under your hand as he worked your mouths together.

He was eager, his hands tightening on your waist before he growled when he understood he had to grab handfuls of skirt before he could cup your backside. But when his skin met yours and you ground down onto his lap, the groan that left him was the most animalistic sound imaginable. 

The frown your face fell into showed your desire to whimper, as he kept you atop him and marvelled in the way you writhed, both from satisfaction and keenness at the pressure of his cock against you. 

“Can I have you again?” He asked, the startings of sweaty hair being pushed off your face. His eyes peered at you, searching for his answer as you seemed to be able to do nothing but pant and look back at him yearningly. “Are you letting me?”

You dragged your fingers down his t-shirt covered torso and lifted it slightly just to see the quiver of his stomach as pulled you onto him once more. 

“Like this?” you voiced, meekly.

“‘F this is what you like then, yea’”, he breathed into your mouth, hands shifting your pliant body. “Is this what you want?”

You wordlessly nod, mouth falling open in a breathy gasp when he managed to move you so he sat so enticingly at your entrance. He was teasing both yourself and him, wanting to keep you both on the edge. 

Harry blinked a few times as he looked at you, and you revelled in the way he couldn’t seem to concentrate. His hands held your flesh tightly, fingertips dipping into the skin of your bum cheeks as he gently guided you down.

An unattractive and dull, quite strangled noise, left your throat as you let your forehead fall against his temple. Eyes falling down you see the cups of your bra fall slack, you felt his hands softly gliding over your shoulder blades and shoulders. 

He rid you of your bra, hands moving to your chest to squeeze your breasts. His jaw fell slack when you found yourself sitting snugly on his lap - on him - settled and already feeling spent.

This was so different compared to the last time; if not overwhelming so because of the way you both appeared to be so present. Each movement of your hips, and the way they rolled and grinded and dragged felt too much. So much so that you had become nothing more than a mess of short, quick breathing and blushing, sweaty cheeks. 

Slack-jaw, you were unable to find it in you to return Harry’s kisses, and his joyful, breathy chuckle seemed to lead you to believe he was fine with it. In fact he was happy to keep going as you were. 

Your movements were frantic, and despite the build up, not entirely driven by lust either. Harry continued to encourage you to move as you were; slow, grinding motions on his lap that caused the filthiest of groans and dirtiest of laughs from the two of you. Laughter that was only made stronger as the chair that held you both started to creak too. 

You couldn’t do much about it though other than to breathe into each other’s mouth, and rock your hips together with more fervour each time. 

“Yea’,” he breathed against your lips, left hand at the back of your head holding you to him, while his right rested just above your bum. “‘S better. That’s better.”

It was better. Better than last time. Better than anything before. 

And while it hadn’t been frantic before, it was now as your legs that were hanging down either side of the chair started to tremble and your toes started to dig into the worn carpet beneath them. Hips knocking and your clit dragging heavenly against his public bone, you grasped his name as you buried your face into his neck and dug your nails into his nape.

Harry hissed his approval which fell to a groan as your nails pushed up into his hair and lightly pulled as you sought leverage. There were so many things you were learning this time around and his penchant for liking his hair pulled from time to time, was one of those things. 

“God, ‘m gonna come soon,” he admitted, gruntly as he forced your hips down as he anchored his legs and widened his seating position. “Are you close?”

“Yeah,” you whined. “Yes. Like this-“

And as you pressed your face to his once more, he was everywhere. Soft but hard, loving but commanding. Smelled like clean washing detergent but of country air. Inviting and alluring, allowing you your lingering kisses between grounding breaths that became staccato in unison with the movement of your hips. 

You aren’t ashamed of the whines that escaped your throat as you squeezed down on his cock, praised by indecipherable works that left Harry but were nothing more to you than lips moving against your rough and dry ones. Word that made the burning feeling of your pending orgasm spread through your entire body, warming you and setting you alight.

It was long and deep, with your toes curling into the carpet they were pressed against now. Barely able to catch your breath, sucking in harshly and shaking. 

And when you came to, thoroughly exhausted, you noticed that he was waiting for your say so. That he could let go and enjoy the pleasure brought about by your shared labour. 

“Coming-“ was all the warning that you got and was enough to encourage you to watch him as he came, his face completely void of anything other than pure pleasure. Wrinkles and frowns fade, his mouth falling open with his pink lips glinting prettily under the dim Christmas lights around you.

His forehead gleamed with sweat as he wrapped his arms around you tightly and his hips bucked up one, two and three times for good measure. “Fuck me,” he heaved gruffly.

You were suddenly desperate to feel his lips on yours despite the way you both continued to fight to get your breath back, but settled for resting them against the skin of his cheek, which was hot to the touch. 

When you felt Harry start to go soft, you reluctantly pulled away and let him slip out of you. He wasn’t so keen to let you get too far, holding you just that bit higher than before with his hand cupping gently but firmly at your hip. “Where’d you think you’re going,” he hummed, eyes still closed as he continued to heavily inhale and exhale. 

You softly smiled, taking in his soft face and responded by nuzzling close to him again. 

Nowhere. Somewhere. Anywhere with him.

A place where only the two of you knew, like the back of your hand. The same way you knew each other. Now and possibly forever.

[neutron-stars-collision]

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 29 - No Sound but the Wind

Masterlist; Chapter 28

Summary: Stalsk-12.

Warnings: Angst™️, swearing.

Author's Notes: Here we are... at the end of all things. My take on Stalsk took a lot of pain and time to figure out and actually write down so I hope it will be satisfactory. As usual, thank you Shet, for life saving diagrams and patience, as this wouldn't be possible without you.

Still probably 2-3 chapters to go so we're not quite at the end end just yet 😅 With that said, this chapter is as much a finale is it could be. Do hope you'll enjoy and feedback is greatly appreciated!

Waking up on the morning of the battle was strange. After the group conversation on the bridge, you and Neil collapsed into the bed, falling asleep instantly. The dreamless night was a welcomed surprise, and so, when you finally resurfaced on the side of consciousness again with the phone alarm ringing in your ears, you felt kind of rested. With the tight schedule, you took no liberty in wasting minutes cuddling and promptly got up, with Neil asking you to join him in his cabin in a quarter for the suiting up. There was no chance in hell you would refuse that.

It was once he left, after a kiss and quick reassurance that somehow it would be alright, the reality dawned with full force. Anxiety settled in your stomach, the nauseous feeling growing with every minute. A strange ache in your right shoulder, radiating down the arm, adding to the rising pile of questions. And doubts. At the edge of your consciousness, a festering thought that would not disappear. What if… what if? The question too terrifying to name, let alone answer.

Desperate for a distraction, you looked outside at the blue skies dotted with clouds, painting a contradictory image to the inside of your mind. At least you didn’t have to worry about the inverted rain… Sighing, you took one last look at the right shoulder and massaged the area with a frown permanently etched onto your face. Maybe it was nothing. With the time nearly running out, you quickly grabbed the battle gear and left the room.

As expected, the suiting up with Neil proved to be the distraction you needed. The moment he opened the door for you, wearing nothing but dark green combat trousers and a matching fitting long-sleeved shirt, your jaw fell slack. Somehow, out of the mess in your head, the only thought that survived was the attraction towards him. Because he looked very good. The shirt complimented his upper body in all the right places, making your eyes widen, overwhelmed with thoughts and feelings. The unbelievable luck and the gravitational pull that always pushed you towards him. And not without reason. Neil instantly caught your wandering gaze, took your hand in his, and pulled you inside the room, letting the door close behind you. The clueless look, checking your sanity from up close, before he asked:

“Why are you staring at me like that?” running a hand through his hair, making the strands stick up in every direction.

Adding to the charm. Stifling a groan building up in your throat, you placed the clothes on the empty chair before turning to face Neil again. Utterly perplexed in his dark green outfit. Stupidly hot. Just… fuck it.

“Because I can’t believe how attractive you are,” stating the truth felt relieving, but still like an understatement, “Like- my god, I-” you huffed, annoyed at both him and yourself.

Passive aggressively, you took off the shirt and pants, taking fleeting pride in how Neil seemed transfixed as well, watching your every move with fascination. Yet, it was much easier for him to shake off the mood and grab the holster. The brow furrowed; coherence lost:

“Seriously?” he was looking at you as though you have lost your mind, thoughtlessly fiddling with the thigh holster.

It was the glimmer of uncertainty that you noticed in his gaze that made you push forward. In any other moment, you would have backed off, pretended the exchange never happened, or responded with a joke to change the subject. But faced with the slightest potential that Neil could be genuinely doubting your claim, embarrassment and pride had to be abandoned. You quickly buckled up the trousers and took a step closer, taking a long look over his body. Your eyes were instantly drawn to all the details that never failed to make you want him. Placing your hands on his shoulders, you nodded:

“Yes. Being this fit is unprecedented,” grinning, you took in his stunned face, letting the frustrations and feelings lead the speech “It’s those broad shoulders and the narrow hips that always distract me when you’re wearing shirts,” letting your fingers skim over his chest and down the stomach in appreciating strokes “Long legs with those thighs… Darling, you’re making that holster look almost illicit” you eyed the accessory encircling his upper thigh with unhidden hunger, the tip of your tongue poking out to deliver the punchline “And let’s not even get to the best part because you know what I think about it” settling your palms on his hips, you grinned wickedly, meeting his gaze.

“What?” Neil swallowed hard, his hands instinctively wrapping around your waist.

Still so adorably confused. But now, you could notice the faint flicker of gratitude. And amusement. Might drive the point home then…

“Always knew you’d be a spectacular lover, but Jesus Christ… you’re making me regret half the times when I said no to you before” brushing over his backside and pulling your lower bodies flush together, you teasingly slipped your thumb underneath his shirt.

Taking immeasurable joy in the shallow gasp, he let out upon the simple action. You observed as he slowly shook himself awake, blue eyes searching yours, and then a hand raising to cup your cheek, tenderly brushing over the skin:

“What’s gotten into you?” the outpouring of affection waking up the butterflies in your stomach “Not that I’m complaining, though,” he shrugged, the slight concern tinted with happiness.

With your brain eager to remind you about the terrifying reality and the spikes of pain pulsing through your right shoulder, you chose to dive headfirst into the feelings warming up your chest. You shrugged and covered his hand with yours:

“Adrenaline fucked up and activated the wrong part of my brain. I’ve no clue,” your lips twisted in a hesitant smile, “But I want you, and that’s that” with the free hand, you traced the outline of his jaw.

Running over the stubble on his chin and the fading bruise underneath his ear, light blush spreading over your cheeks at the memory connected to it. It still felt strange sometimes to be this open with him. To speak your mind without fearing rejection or ridicule. To know that the sentiments were reciprocated with equal strength.

“Can we move that to after the battle?” Neil wrapped his arm around your waist, searching your face for clues, “Because now… now I just want to hold you. Kiss you, maybe” the timid whisper tugged at your heartstrings as he ran the pad of his thumb over your lower lip.

A familiar gesture, sparking up the fire and asking for consent. As if he still needed to.

“Maybe?” you arched an eyebrow, latching onto the word if only to make him smile.

Neil grinned, happiness radiating from his gaze as he tipped your chin upwards, syncing up with how you rose on your feet to meet him halfway.

“Certainly,” the murmur laid to rest on your lips.

The slow, gentle kiss, beginning with the tenderest of touches, his lips gliding over yours, carefully igniting the flame. It was as though he wanted to commit it to memory, softly drawing out sighs from your throat with the delicate pecks and ghostly brushes. The texture of his lips getting imprinted on yours, the taste of his kisses becoming a permanent memory. The hints of Earl Grey tinting the tip of his tongue as he finally deepened the kiss, trailing along the outline of your mouth and slipping inside to give you the necessary fix. You tangled your hand in his hair to bring him closer and to feel the strands between your fingers. Running out of air, at last, you withdrew by a millimetre and smiled against his mouth, giving in to the chaste pecks, extending the contact even if for a second. Neil grinned back, his thumb caressing your cheek in soft strokes, eyes showing everything you should need to know. The intimate moment awash with affection, adding meaning to the scene. Holding his gaze, you made sure to return the sentiments with equal strength before you leaned back and took in his lovesick expression.

“Don’t worry, I’ll address all of what you said later… Because I’m flattered” Neil broke the silence at last with a glimmer of gratefulness shining through the blue irises.

You grinned, allowing yourself a rare dose of hope for that later. May it come. Sending silent prayer to whatever god could be listening, you brushed away the hair from his eyes before responding:

“Good, because I meant it,” your eyes roaming over his face, admiring the striking features, “You handsome bastard,” the nickname coming out without hesitation.

How very fitting. Your grin only getting brighter when you saw Neil’s double-take, eyebrows scrunching up in confusion once more, only to be replaced with an uncertain head tilt and a thoughtful pause.

“… that sounded way too enticing than it should’ve,” he admitted finally, drawing you closer with his hands on your hips.

Confirming the sentiment, he licked his lips thoroughly with the gaze focused on your mouth. Bingo. Unable to stop the smug smile from spreading on your lips, you suggested an answer to his predicament:

“Maybe that’s just because I said it,” the rare rush of confidence and pride spreading blush on your cheeks.

Once more, you were separated by a breath of space with your lower bodies flush together. That impeccable pull, doing its work as usual as you felt his breath ghost over your lips. Then Neil smiled, confirming the beliefs with a simple statement:

“Yes, that too,” another kiss shutting down the worries and strengthening the feelings.

It only took three more before you continued with the suit up. To prevent distractions, you settled on the opposite side of the cabin, slowly assembling the military outfit, the silence occasionally interrupted with comments. It was once you have adjusted your thigh holster and slipped in the faithful Glock that the reality has once more dawned on you. You were about to head into a battle. An actual, large-scale battle, on the Siberian steppes, armed with nothing but a handgun and rifle. And Neil, both the protector and the protected. Not that it made any sense.

Sighing at the mess of thoughts in your head, you turned back to the man in question, observing him for a moment. He was busy packing the military backpack with the needed supplies, half-dressed in the top layer of the suit. With the hair grown out and the slight stubble on his chin, the outfit gave him the ‘rough mercenary’ look that could not help but quirk your lips in a tiny grin. Luck, and all that. As your gaze fell on the dark green backpack, your eyes got caught by a pendant attached to the zipper. With the curiosity piqued, you crossed the space to see the trinket, asking the question in the process:

“What’s that?” tenderly, you reached out to touch the pendant.

It was a vintage coin from India, attached to the zipper with a red and orange piece of yarn, washed with the years of use. Upon your innocent question, Neil let out a long exhale. Nervous. Perplexed, you glanced at him, immediately noticing the shy smile and hesitant gestures. Running a hand through his hair, he finally strung together a sentence:

“I… uh, that’s something Alex gave me and I- I can take it off if you-” stopping the panicked ramblings, you placed your finger upon his lips.

Idiot. Smiling gently, you let go of the trinket and took Neil’s hand in yours, slowly rubbing out the tension and cherishing the feel of his palm in yours. There were no doubts as towards what you had to tell him in response to something this outrageous.

“Neil, why do you think I’d want you to get rid of that?” you watched as he struggled for an answer, the adorable pinkish tint darkening his cheeks, “I’m glad you had him. And that he was lucky to have you” as his eyes turned glossy, you swallowed the sudden rush of tears and added “I can only hope I’ll be fortunate enough to have you for the rest of however much have we got” the uncertainty creeping in, forcing to add the necessary disclaimer “If you’ll-”

If you’ll want me for that long. But you never got as far as telling that. Neil closed the gap, pulling you close with cheeks wet with tears and eyes full of inexplicable emotions:

“Shut up” he brushed his nose over yours as a prelude before covering your lips with his in a kiss.

A hungrier one this time, a way of returning the feelings you have poured into your words. His teeth grazed over your lower lip in a familiar expression of passion. In response, you could only draw him closer, sighing when the salty tears tinged the contact with boundless weight. Somehow you knew that whatever would happen beyond this moment, the love you had was real. Probably the only genuine feeling you ever had the luck of experiencing. With the realisation fresh on your mind, you could only whimper quietly when Neil broke the kiss at last and pressed another to your forehead. He kept on holding you close as though worried your time was running out. Overwhelmed with the conflicting emotions, you reached out to brush away the evidence of his tears, caressing his face in a dream-like daze. Finally, he broke the silence:

“Never thought I could love someone that much again, but there we are. And you know what?” the happy smile contrasted how his eyes glistened with melancholy, “I like it,” you mirrored the grin, letting the blue of his eyes pull you under “Emotional compromise has never been this tempting” reference to the nightly conversation making you giggle.

A perfect opportunity to lighten up the moment and shake off the premonition shadowing your every gesture and word. Distractedly, you placed your hand over his beating heart, glancing up at him with a playful smirk:

“Does your gob just like… never run out?” Neil’s grin widened, your interference doing its magic, “I’m impressed,” as a confirmation, you patted his shoulder humoredly.

Neil shrugged, the look in his eyes clear: you knew what you’re signing up for. And you did. Frankly, you would not have it any other way. No matter the consequences or the future. Love is merely a madness, after all.

“And I-” when Neil spoke again, you could tell what was coming.

Getting into the temptation (and because you haven’t said it in an hour), you interrupted him with your confession:

“I love you. I know,” a smug smile splitting your face once more upon seeing his reaction.

The eyes widened for a split second, furrowed brow and lips open in a gasp. Before Neil somehow became even more beautiful as the morning light lit up the joyful glimmer in his eyes. The hair caught on the golden fire, giving him the look of an angel that has fallen straight from heaven. And was yours, for some unknown reason. Your affirmation added a spark of confidence to his expression as he thanked you for it with another breathless kiss.

The rest of the dress-up continued in that manner, often interrupted with kissing, hugs, and banter that seemed to wash away the fears. Even if only for the moment. As you adjusted the bulletproof vest and made sure the front pocket was full of the extra magazines, you checked the time. A little too tight, considering you were yet to assemble the oxygen tank and prepare the rifle. Looking up, you met Neil’s attentive gaze as he was shamelessly staring at you. For a second, you could tell that you were both considering never leaving the room and ignoring the reality. Just saying ‘fuck it’ to the universe and abandoning the post for whatever cost to never let this moment end. But it had to. The mirroring mournful smiles on your faces contrasted with the desperate hope you tried to hold on to. Finally, without breaching the gap, you remarked quietly:

“We should move, or else they’ll leave without us” a meaningful look at the window.

Yet without urgency present in your heart. Because you did not want to go. Not at all.

Neil could easily read the sentiment from your face, for he picked up the remaining parts of the equipment and asked:

“Do you think there’ll be bears?” the innocuous question dropped with the needed effect.

A distraction. A way of making the exit easier for you.

“… what?” staring at him with confusion written all over your face, you gaped.

Beloved idiot. He grinned, taking that one step closer to brush away the hair from your eyes with extra care.

“You know, bears, Siberia… Rasputin?” his lopsided smile adding the punch to the ridiculous statement.

And then, just as you were sure the situation would not get stranger, he started humming. Boney M. Rasputin, naturally. You groaned, pondering life decisions. Seduction through talking absolute nonsense and humming Boney M? Sure, why not. Ignoring the urge to facepalm, you let the amusement and bewilderment spill through the glare you gave him. He shrugged in response. Another message easy to understand: your idiot. Taking his hand in yours, you decided to play along:

“I don’t think it’s that sort of Siberia,” you frowned, looking for the correct metaphor, “Think more like… Chernobyl, graphite, and radiation poisoning. Inverted, at that” wincing at the mental image, you squeezed his palm.

The quiet reassurance complementing the silent conversation. All that you did not need to say but knew anyway.

“Inverted Chernobyl?” Neil met your absent gaze with a laugh reflected in the blue irises.

The laughter never felt this important before. Clutching his hand tightly, you collapsed into his arms. A few minutes of delay wouldn’t hurt anyone.

***

If anyone later were to ask you how the briefing looked like or about the specifics of what you did before boarding the container attached to the chinook, you would not know what to tell them. As though in a dream, you attended the meeting led by Wheeler and crafted to fit the needs of the Blue team, registering half of what was said. You had the plan for your unit memorised, and that had to be enough. Rest was up to fate. With the pain resonating through the shoulder and the suffocating anxiety making a home in the pit of your stomach, Neil’s presence right next to you and his hand resting on your thigh mattered more than usually. You had a feeling he knew, shooting you worried looks now and then and focusing intently on Wheeler at the same time. As though he knew that he had to be the strong one. The leader. You could only hope that you would not disappoint him or fuck it up. After all, the fate of the world was a pretty crucial cause to fight for. Even if your world has shrunk to that 1,85m, blue eyes, and dyed blonde hair. Fighting for your future together was good enough, too.

You settled on the bench in the blue container, struggling to find the air to breathe in the cramped space, weighted with the fears and the suit covering every inch of your skin. As the chinook rose and the wind shook the container with force, you strengthened the hold over the helmet resting on your lap and screw your eyes shut. The throbbing sensation in your arm only seemed to get more prominent with every passing minute as though sensing that Stalsk (and whatever awaited there) was getting sooner for you. Trying to keep the mind at bay, you went over the plan once more. The bullet points straightforward enough to be recited like a prayer: upon the landing, exit the container and run towards the epicentre, following Neil; stay out of trouble; enter the dead-drop chamber with 5 minutes to spare (ideally); cover Neil as he deals with the lock; leave and arrive at the drop off zone in time to come back. Simple, right? You glanced at the watch on your wrist. It already felt like ten minutes from the explosion will not be enough. Because what if you were stopped? What if something went wrong, and you will never make it to the lock? What if you mess it up by letting nerves take over everything else? What if something goes wrong?

With the questions multiplying at an alarming speed, you quickly found yourself struggling for breath. The mask and the constant rattling of the packed container were not helping. Shit. A louder gasp was unnoticed by everyone but the man to your right. Neil turned on the bench in a second, scanning your face for the obvious signs. As your wild, panicked gaze met his, he tilted your chin firmly:

“Hey, hey,” the gentle whisper urging you to focus on him only “Look at me” he searched your eyes for something and then asked, “What’s wrong?”

It was that patience and kindness that always got you. No matter the circumstances or the advancement of your relationship, Neil always reacted with the same gentleness. And that was both the reason to love him and to be disappointed by your inability to keep it together.

“Sorry, it’s just nerves… and… fuck, I’m sorry” stumbling over the words, you could feel the tears welling up in your eyes, betraying you “You need me, and I’m already fucking it all up by being too weak-” your rant was gathering speed, stopped only by Neil.

“If it wasn’t for the bloody oxygen masks, I’d make you shut up now,” he sighed with exasperation, eyes glancing at your mouth to point out the true meaning of the sentence “Stop it, give me your hand” obediently, you let him entwine your fingers “Actually, I’d be a little worried if you weren’t scared. But we’ll manage because it’s us. And there’s nothing we can’t do” the words spoken with confidence you could only dream of having “Do you trust me?” he asked the question with startling resolve in the blue eyes.

Despite the mess of thoughts, the answer was too easy.

“With my life,” you squeezed his palm for comfort and added, “And heart too, apparently” a sheepish shrug to complete the confession.

But is it still a confession when it’s glaringly evident? Talking with Neil like this with the troops all around and the chinook’s rattle overhead, everything felt surreal. But it did not seem like anyone noticed your ‘heart-to-heart’. Thank fuck.

Neil did not seem to mind, staring at you with that familiar affectionate glimmer in his eyes. He brushed his thumb over your knuckles, soothing the anxiety and reasserting his presence.

“I’m glad because I kind of need your heart to pull this off,” he grinned, the sudden tentativeness endearing and distracting you successfully “Because this way I know that it’s all worth fighting for” locking your eyes with his, you somehow knew what was coming “Do you remember the promise?”

Of course. It was not as if you spent many hours thinking about it. And praying that you will never have to break it.

“Yeah, I… I hope it won’t come to that” the careful answer to make sure he would not catch on to your doubts.

And the countless plans you have made in the quiet of your mind. Just in case.

“Me too, but if- If it’s me, or you, I’ll always choose you,” the simple statement made the breath hitch in your throat.

As did the look in his eyes, assuring you that he meant it. Boundless love, pouring out of every glance and expressed through the firm hold over your hand. There was no escaping it.

And I, you. The answer unspoken; whispered only to yourself. And that had to be enough.

***

The moment of quiet did not last long. Soon after your conversation ended, the wind picked up, increasing the shaking of the container. Even without windows, you could tell that you were getting closer. After another violent jolt, Wheeler stood up, holding on tightly to the railing overhead:

“We’re coming in on the shock wave,” her voice rang out loud and clear, “Hold on, people!” with the warning, you strengthened the hold over Neil’s palm and used the other to tighten the seatbelt.

You tensed, body preparing for the impact and everything else that could come after. As though following your instincts, you turned to Neil at the exact moment he glanced at you. Your gazes locked as the chinook flew through the explosion shock wave, eliciting gasps from the troops and increasing the feeling of doom. The only anchor, the blue eyes gazing back at you with love and determination, were a perfect place to wait for the landing. You kept on staring, letting yourself find a piece of hope in his face and knew Neil was doing the same. But the time was already running out.

Two minutes later, the blue container touched the ground with a thud giving you the signal to stand up and prepare for the charge down the ridge. You fastened the helmet and prepared the rifle, ready for the strike. As the doors opened, you got struck with the piercing light outside. The area was covered in the sandy steppe, the ruins of the city littered with crumbled grey buildings and blocks. The blue skies, giving nothing but a contrast to the scene with its startling serenity. As Wheeler gave the Blues signal to begin, you followed the troops, running out of the container and down the steep ridgeway, instantly noticing the hundreds of mercs in your way. Inverted, normal. Everything the hell had to offer. You could see the Reds fighting them off, trying to create a safe passage for the splinter unit. Before it began, one final thought resonating through your head – you never even got to say goodbye to TP. It felt strange. And yet.

You did not have much time to process the realisation as Neil tugged at your hand in a clear signal: C’mon. You followed him down the hill, rifle comfortably placed on your shoulder to allow easy aim if needed. 9:35. The bullets were wheezing past, inverted, and normal. An additional level of chaos was introduced by the crumbled buildings, flying upwards in denial of physics. That’s what the training was for. Focusing on staying alive and relatively unharmed, you swerved between the rocks and walls, eyes open on those that behaved differently. Rounding up the corner of one derelict building, Neil pulled you to crouch as he scouted the horizon for obvious traps. The construction acted as a hideaway, giving you a moment to catch the breath burning your lungs and give the legs a millisecond-long rest. The ringing in your ears seemed permanent as you stared at Neil, awaiting instructions. 8:00. The blue digits on the watch speeding up the pounding heart. After too long a pause, you asked:

“Are we clear?” your voice wavered, showing the anxiety brewing underneath.

“One second” Neil glanced at you before going back to risk assessment.

You tensed, closing your eyes for a split second to ground within the moment. To find clarity in the chaos of the battlefield. A breath in and out. Hand tightening the hold on the rifle. The other was squeezed by Neil. The sign to sober up.

“Go” your eyes shot open as he whispered the command.

Without a second of hesitation, you leapt up, turning around the corner and running straight towards the bunker. You could hear Neil following close, the sounds of your footfall the only noise you allowed in. And then the third one joined. Startled by an explosion nearby, you looked to the right in time to see a merc running in your direction. Inversed, luckily. He was too close to use the rifle, and so you faced him for combat. A kick there. A backhand to weaken the enemy. Adrenaline rushing in your veins as you successfully brought him to his knees. Now it was just the question of pulling the trigger. The shot echoed in the space as he fell on the ground with a thud. It never got too easy. Stifling a heavy sigh, you only managed to turn on your heel when Neil’s yell broke the silence:

“Watch out!” you saw the worry in the blue eyes before the world turned upside down.

In a flash, you heard strange noises coming from the rumble laying all around. There was no time to jump to the side as the stones flew up. A piece of rock hit you in the shoulder as another large boulder made you trip, landing face down on the ground. Fucking physics. The breath knocked out of your lungs as you groaned:

“Fuck,” the curse coming out as you tried to pick yourself back to standing.

The time was still running out. You winced as the pain radiating from the right shoulder increased by a notch.

“Are you alright?” Neil pulled you up with a frown etched onto his face.

No.

“Yeah, let’s go. It’s close now” you offered him an unconvincing smile and looked towards the buildings.

From the distance, it looked like a barrow or a war-time bunker with the top covered with soil and the entrance through a dark tunnel. The main way in was not yours, however. Projecting the mental map of the compound, you searched the terrain for your entryway. Soon, just where you expected it to be, you noticed a metal trapdoor in the ground, partially hidden by the shadow of a crumbled building. You knew Neil noticed it too, for he gently pushed you in the direction without a word. 6:02. On time. Sort of.

The rusted padlock keeping the door shut gave way after a forceful kick. You stood on the lookout as Neil opened the flap with a creak of the old hinges. Making sure no one was on the horizon, you looked over your shoulder to see the progress. It seemed like your way in was a vertical tunnel with ladder steps ending in eerie darkness. And beyond? God knows what. Fantastic. As Neil peered down the hole with a small torchlight, you frowned:

“A dark hole in the ground… brilliant” letting out a small sigh, you met Neil’s eyes as he looked up at you.

A glimmer in the blue irises told you he was up for no good. And you were right.

“… there lived a Hobbit?” Neil completed the quotation in an innocent tone.

Just as if you were not in the middle of the battle with bullets wheezing past and explosions punctuating every heartbeat.

“… Neil, what the actual fuck?” gaping at him, you almost forgot the reality.

For a split second, there was no ticking clock and worry of death waiting around the corner. Only you and Neil, entangled in yet another dialogue of nonsense. As it was supposed to be. You knew he understood, for he squeezed your hand once more before responding:

“Sometimes I ask myself that too,” a perfect punchline to elicit a sharp gust of laughter.

But there was no time. You both checked the horizon one more time before Neil pushed you in the direction of the entrance:

“Go, I’ll follow,” a whisper, giving the necessary support.

No chance of backing out. With a final sigh, you secured the rifle on your shoulder and took the first step down the ladder. The railings were cold and corroded by time and elements, giving that additional spark of anxiety you did not need.

Looking down, you could make out the end, and so, making sure to ignore the aching body and screaming mind, you began the descend without a second of hesitation. There was no time. With only the light from the world above, you soon lost the count and the ability to see, relying only on your instincts not to slip and fall.

After what felt like hours, your feet touched the ground with a shallow thump, resonating through the cavern. The tunnel was lit by a single fluorescent, giving out its swan song underneath the Siberian ruins. As you took a step to the side to let Neil join you, you scanned the surroundings. The dark cave with rusted pipelines lining up the ceiling and the metal crate and railings covering the ground. You exchanged a glance, similar reactions mirrored on your faces. It was easy to feel unwelcomed.

You turned to the right, as the maps indicated, following the tunnel towards the epicentre. With each step, the anxiety rose, manifesting itself through the shaking fingers and shallow breaths. You could feel the inexplicable feeling of dread fill your heart with nothing to blame it on. Until you finally turned the last corner and found yourselves at your destination.

The dead drop chamber had a high dome with the entrance at the top and a cage-like construction underneath, edging a dark cavern. In the poorly lit space, your eyes took a second to adjust and take in the necessary details. Inside the cage, you could see TP and Ives, hunched over a mysterious, steel object, shaped like a coffin. The Algorithm. A shudder ran through your body as you noticed the yellow countdown clock attached to the item. Next to them, there was a body. A man lying flat on his back with a gunshot wound in his head. You immediately recognised the face from the folder given to you long before the mission took off. Volkov, Sator’s right hand. Your blood turned cold as though anticipating something that was yet to happen. The pain in your shoulder has reached the levels of tolerance, increasingly growing to make sure you could not ignore it. Tough luck.

“Neil… something’s wrong,” you whispered, grasping his hand in yours, seeking comfort.

Even though he could not offer anything beyond his presence. You knew that whatever would happen, you had to face it alone.

“I know,” the low murmur bringing you back to the present moment.

As you locked eyes with Neil, you could see the worries confirmed. He was tense as if anticipating the worst yet not knowing when or how it would come. On the periphery of your vision, you could see Ives and TP stare at both of you, seemingly unsure of how they should act or which part to play. The body language, showing nothing but unease and confusion. You knew Neil noticed it too, for he quickly closed the space to the lock and rummaged in the front pocket of his vest for the tools.

“Let’s…” throwing a look at you with the necessary determination.

No time to waste. You nodded, blocking out the pain, if even for a second longer. Job to be done.

“I’ll watch your back,” the assurance he did not need, but you gave anyway.

As Neil began the lockpicking, you positioned yourself sideways, hoping to have a good vantage point to observe the inside of the cage and the tunnel leading to the epicentre. A glance at the watch picked up the heart rate. 03:27. With the muffled sounds of the battle above the cavern, you could hear your heavy breaths filling the silence, sometimes interrupted with backwards gibberish coming from the splinter unit and Neil’s curses. The time was both suspended and was ticking away mercilessly.

Upon a louder sigh, you glanced in his direction. The question died on your tongue as you perceived movement through the bars of the chamber. A gasp pierced the silence as your eyes landed on Volkov raising from the ground. No bullet hole in his head. Fuck. Before you could utter a word, a gunshot resonated through the space. Ives lowered the gun, staring at you with a strange emotion. Neil glanced up, a shaky breath the only sound on the comms.

It was easy to put together the pieces. And make the decision. Ignoring Neil’s startled look, you crossed the remaining gap to the cage. The gate was almost open, needing a few seconds more, at most. And after… It made so much sense. Easy. No need to think or analyse. Shield Neil, keeping your gaze fixed on Volkov. The pulse, pounding in your ears. The backward gibberish, coming from the splinter unit, talking to the henchman. It all did not matter. You awaited that faithful sound of the lock opening. A breath in and out. It would be alright. It would be worth it.

The click came both sooner and later than you expected. A jolt of adrenaline ran through your body, elevating the heart rate, making your reactions fluent. Fear is your companion. As the gate creaked, Neil’s tools clattered to the ground. He looked up at you, questions and worries multiplying in the blue eyes. He didn’t know yet. Taking comfort in the realisation, you smiled at him. For reassurance. I got you.

And then swiftly threw yourself between him and the now open door as the second gunshot echoed in the chamber. A flash of pain ripped through your shoulder; the inverted bullet tore through the tissue before you could perceive it. Of course. Everything made sense now.

Volkov lowered the gun and retracted through the tunnel in the dome. With a strangled yell, you fell onto the ground. Your knees hit the crate as you toppled onto your side. The edges of your vision darkened; your brain overwhelmed with the increasing agony. As though through the glass, you could hear Neil scream your name before he gathered you in his arms. Through the tears, you could see his furrowed brow. The eyes glossy with unshed tears of his own. You wanted to brush them away. To tell him that you are going to be alright. That you love him. But no sound could come out through the tightened throat.

The warm liquid was pooling inside the suit and spilling through the gaping hole. Pain flooded your vision as you fought to keep your eyes open. Through the ascending fog, you could hear Neil’s whispers, begging you to stay with him. To stay awake. Easier said than done.

Slowly, he stood up, cradling you in his arms. Horror and determination etched onto his face. You laced your hands on his neck, following the instincts that played out their roles without your actions.

The tunnel. Please, don’t cry. Bright light, hurting your eyes. Explosions in the distance. The boundless blue cast with fear. I love you. Burning agony radiating through the body. I don’t regret it. Neil’s panicked screams. I’ll do everything for you. The soil underneath your fingertips. You’re my everything. Scarlet hands. Pain.

No sound but the wind.

[after-witch]

Yandere Ransom Imagine

“That's some heavy-duty conjecture.”

Word Count: 2700ish

notes: unhealthy relationships, emotional and physical abuse, financial abuse, yandere

Imagine being a struggling adult working a full time job plus freelancing gigs just to get by in your one-bedroom apartment where the ceiling always leaks when it rains and you have to perform a complicated maneuver to make sure the door doesn’t jam up on you and you’re constantly worried about your landlord raising the rent.

Maybe a well-meaning friend gets you a gift card to an upscale bookstore because they know you haven’t had a new book on your shelves in years, or maybe you find $20 on the street like a veritable Charlie Bucket but instead of buying a Wonka Bar you head into a this fantastic artisan coffee shop on the rich side of town, a place that everyone always raves about on Instagram, just so you can try an expensive latte with hand-ground beans and flavors you’ve never heard of before--because don’t you deserve a treat, for once?

Whatever it is, wherever it is, Hugh Ransom Drysdale is waiting inside and sees you there.

And oh my God is it obvious that you’re out of place right off the bat. I mean, what the hell is someone like you doing in this part of town?

With your worn out clothes that are worn from necessity and not from being fashionably thrifted and your ratty purse stuffed with papers and candy wrappers that spill out when you dig in for your card or cash and your winter boots that you’ve probably worn 5 years in a row, ripped in the hell and patched with black tape that you hope people don’t notice.

It becomes even more obvious that you’re out of your element when something goes wrong. The gift card isn’t activated. The $20? A fake, probably a movie prop that blew in the wind. Whatever goes wrong, it means that you’re suddenly at the register, impatient people with real money tapping their expensive shoes behind you, unable to pay. You’re left standing there like a deer in headlights, unsure of what to do or say.

Normally he might just roll his eyes and remind himself that people like you ought to stick to your own shops, your own place. But something about the way your eyes go all downcast and you seem to shrink down in embarrassment makes him take pity on you. Like a stray cat in the alley hoping someone will toss it some scraps.

So he strides up and flicks out a card and hands it to the cashier, dropping a friendly greeting to them because he spends like crazy and they probably know him by name at this place, and he’s the one who hands you your coffee or your bag and your hands touch ever so briefly during the exchange.

He leads you away from the register--don’t want to piss off the spoiled debutantes and assistants on lunchtime coffee runs--and you stammer out a thank-you-thank-you and you promise you’ll pay him back as soon as you can and Jesus Christ, isn’t that just adorable? Someone like you, some lost kicked puppy who can’t even afford new boots, promising to pay him back?

He doesn’t care if you pay him back, but he finds that he would like something out of this exchange, so he says that instead of paying him back you can do him the honor of going to lunch with him. His treat. 

He insists. And you can’t really say no, can you? You are hungry and he did just pay for your things and it’s the least you can do to oblige his request.

He’s not stupid. He doesn’t take you to some razzle dazzle fancy restaurant where you’ll feel embarrassed and out of place. Instead he takes you to a quiet diner, classy not greasy, where you can have an easy conversation and tell him all about yourself.

It’s funny. Normally he brings up his family name, his grandfather’s books, to women he picks up, to get them impressed and hooked and pliable. Something about you, though. Something about you is making him want to turn this into more than a lunch date and pressure for a quickie in the car to repay him. 

So he holds back to see what he can do with you on his own. No quickie in the car, but instead before he drops you off--at a bus station, you insisted--he brushes his hand over yours. Can he get your number? He swears he can feel the heat coming off your cheeks as you fumble for your phone and let him put his number in your contacts.

He waits a day, then asks you out again. Dinner, this time. He asks you if you know any good places and you recommend a dive bar that you can go to after work (because 1) schedule and 2) cheap) and shit, he’s all for it. There will be time in the future to impress you with restaurants that have dress codes instead of sticky floors. You sit close on the stools and you buy him a drink (real cute, real real cute) and just for you he keeps the baggie in his pocket there all night instead of heading to the bathroom to liven things up.

Your relationship develops with an almost shocking speed. He knows just how to reel you in. I mean--look at you. Working your ass off at some dead end job, living in an apartment so shitty it takes you almost a month before you reluctantly agree to let him see it.

He can understand, though. Because you’re not that stupid and you know he’s wealthy, even before he casually brings up his family in a “it’s no big deal but I don’t want to keep things from you because we’re getting serious” sort of way. 

You pretend to be casual about it all, but he can tell you’re suddenly wondering: why the hell would someone from this wealthy family want anything to do with me?

It’s a question Ransom asks himself a lot. He asks himself this when he’s snorting coke off another woman’s stomach (hey, you’re dating, but he’s got needs and they aren’t met with hand-holding) or when he’s eating another greasy burger at a shitty bar because you refuse to let him buy you a nice dress to wear so he can take you out somewhere fancy.

You’re not the type of person he normally goes for, not at all. He has strings of girlfriends and flings, but they all tend to fit that same cookie cutter mold: wealthy do-nothings with their parent’s credit card who want someone else to spoil them for a while, without caring who it is or what they’re like. They’re easy pickings that Ransom can burn through and then toss aside when he’s bored of them. Some of them cry but a few days later he’ll see them on someone else’s arm, it’s the circle of life.

With you, though, there’s more. You don’t expect him to pay for dates or anything at all (even when he wants to spoil you a bit) and you have actual conversations and you seem to actually give a shit about what he says and does. You argue with him, too, when he wants you to do something (just let him take you shopping, for Christ’s sake!) or he asks you to move in (again) and you say no (again). I mean, you really fight with him, spitting words and all.

And unlike his previous girlfriends, you don’t come crawling back a few hours later because you want to buy a new purse with his shiny credit card. Instead, you make him apologize first. Fuck, that’s hot. It’s also something he tucks away in the back of his mind to work on later--but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t admit that he sometimes has the overwhelming urge to push you against the wall and fuck you for the first time right after a good argument. 

But he knows that would destroy your image of him entirely, so he holds back. He’s good at crafting a version of himself that appeals to others when he has to, and you’re maybe the first person that’s been worth all the effort he’s put into you so far.

But you need a push, a push that makes it so you can’t go running back to your shithole apartment when you fight or when you question whether or no you two have a future. You do, you’re just too naive--too inexperienced with money, to say it charitably--to realize it.

So he tips off the fire marshal about your apartment building’s shoddy fire escapes and well, damn, in the process of the investigation all the little corners that your landlord has cut come crashing down. At least they were discovered before it was the building that came crashing down.

But the evacuation of the building leaves you--and countless others--high and dry. You don’t have any family in the area, and your only half ass-decent friend in the city lives in the same building but her parent’s aren’t going to let a stranger move in.

When you finally realize you have no options and call him, voice tentative and embarrassed, he knows just what to say to get you to pack your meager belongings and wait for him to pick you up. He’s no-nonsense about it. 

He knows how to avoid deflating your pride, how to keep you from deciding you’d rather stay in a shelter than take his charity. You’ll pay him back, he says, you’ll figure out a rental plan or whatever. He even teases--he’s not the best landlord, but he won’t take 2 weeks to change the toilet if you submit a maintenance request. It makes you crack a smile and bam, just like that, he knows he’s gotten in.

That night, after takeout and wine and a Netflix movie neither of you paid attention to, you fuck for the first time on his expensive sheets on his expensive bed and afterwards, when you’re both sweating and cuddling and reveling in the afterglow, he makes a note to buy you some new lingerie. 

It’s all very homey, for a while. He could do without you leaving for work and working your ass off, with your freelance shit, sometimes staying on the computer until two, three in the morning. But it’s nice to have you close all the time, available to him whenever (almost whenever) he wants. He brings home takeout and you snuggle on the couch and he finally even convinces you to go out with him to a nice restaurant wearing something he’s bought and hot damn, do you look good, head-to-toe in the clothing he’s chosen for you. Especially, later that night, in private, in the lingerie. 

Does he love you? The word hasn’t left his lips yet, hasn’t crossed yours either, but he can feel it underneath the surface. No. It’s more than love. He wants you. He wants to have you. And not just for the afternoon or the summer, but forever. 

He spins daydreams about how he’ll clean you up nice and introduce you to the family. Probably to Harlan, first, because everyone knows that’s whose opinion really matters. Harlan will like you--he would probably like you without any primping or fixing, actually, which is more than he could say for his parents or anyone else in the family. Then once you’re in, you’re in--you’ll come to family dinners and vacation retreats where people always end up in ridiculous arguments, and you two can exchange snarky comments about the family on the ride home.

And yeah, sure. You fight sometimes.

He throws out your old clothes and buys you a wardrobe befitting someone he wants to integrate into his family. You fight about that.

He makes comments about you how you should quit your job or at least try to get a degree--he’ll pay, as long as you agree to go to a university within driving distance--to work somewhere more respectable than a chain restaurant. You fight about that.

He gets pissed when you want to meet some “friends” at a bar without him, because why would you need to go anywhere without your loving boyfriend in tow, unless you were trying to flirt with someone else? You definitely fight about that.

And, okay. Maybe he’s hypocritical.

Maybe he goes out late at night when you’re stuck doing your “freelancing work” and he’s in a rotten mood about it, and he ends up on the floor of a swanky club with drugs in his system and lipstick on his neck. He doesn’t come home until the next morning and you’re pissed and red-eyed and arguing with him, accusing him even, but you have no shitty apartment to stomp back to anymore so you’re stuck. 

Until you’re not stuck. Until he casually snoops through your phone and sees that you’re looking up cheap-ass apartments and hey, you’ve already booked a few interviews already. The thought of you slipping through his fingers makes him more sober than he’s been in a while. He’s got to do something. Not to himself, of course. But to you. To keep you with him.

It’s easy enough to get you fired. He’s a ‘Thrombey’ after all, and some nice crisp bills anonymously sent to the right hands is all it takes for you to come home one night, cheap mascara (he notes: buy you some better quality makeup soon) running down your cheeks. Your freelancing isn’t nearly enough to get you into an apartment.

He assumes that you’ll give up on the idea after losing your job, but you’re nothing if not stubborn (one of the reasons why he likes you) so you start the job hunt the next morning, fresh mascara in place. 

Damn, do you keep him busy. Anonymous calls. Cash in nice white envelopes. Rejection after rejection. You get so sad, so depressed. You don’t even want to go out to restaurants, so he orders in and you snuggle in his lap while he feeds you bites of orange chicken and rubs your back. It almost brings you two closer again, starts to mend the rifts that began when you refused to get over his occasional late night out.

But then you break the uneasy mending by snooping and woah, you don’t like what you find on his phone. 

You fight. 

Damn, do you fight. This time there’s no pretense of potential forgiveness as you begin wildly throwing your clothes into your ratty duffel bag from the back of the closet, telling him to fuck off fuck off fuck off, telling him he’s crazy, telling him that what he’s doing is fucking illegal and--

It’s the shock that hurts you the most.

The shock you feel when he grips your wrist hard and pushes back on your shoulder when you try to yank away, pushing you against the wall with a hard thud. It’s like having a rug pulled out from underneath your feet when you feel a slight ache in your back, on your shoulders, when you tell him to Let go, goddamn it and he only pushes back harder to keep you in place. It’s Ransom. It’s Ransom who’s doing this.

His voice feels unrecognizably cold when he leans in and hisses in your ear.

“You think you can just leave me? After all I’ve done for you? Let me tell you something--you won’t get another job within one hundred miles of here, within one thousand miles of here, unless I say you can. So just put your clothes back in the closet, chill the fuck out, and stop being such an ungrateful bitch.”

It’s the shock that makes you numbly hang your clothes back up in the closet, fold them again with shaking hands, and sit on the bed until the dam breaks and you cry.

And oh fuck, he’s sorry. Really. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and then he’s the one who’s crying and confessing that he didn’t want you leave him because yeah, he knows he’s a fuck up, he knows he’s got a drug problem, but he loves you. 

It’s the first time he’s ever said it out loud. He loves you. “I love you,” he says, again and again, half-laughing.  And he tells you you’re the only person he’s ever dated that made him want to be a better person but he doesn’t know how.

You don’t know what to say because maybe you do love him--but he hurt you and got you fired, but the tears on his face seem so genuine and he tells you he’ll never, ever hurt you like that again and fuck, he says, if you want to go get a job he’ll drive you to the interview right now just-let-him-blow-his-nose-first-please.

You make him sit down and then you’re the one apologizing and the rest of the afternoon is a shaky truce between you two as you drink hot chocolate and order in takeout and watch a movie together.

It’s not until you’re both under the sheets, satisfied and then showered, that you think about what he did to you in a clearer light. The thoughts weigh heavy on your mind, pulling and tugging. You think you might love him. He hurt you. He took care of you when no one else would. He cheated on you. 

I love you, he tells you, when your mind is starting to tug itself into sleep.

He hit you. He said he was sorry.

He hit you.

[andypantsx3]

statistically significant | 5 | bakugou/reader

length: 23,490 words | 7 chapters

summary: You’re the scientist who developed a neural net to model the value of assists. Now that your work is feeding into the hero rankings, pro hero Ground Zero has a bone to pick with your results.

tags: romance, enemies to lovers, sexual tension, reader-insert

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut, m/f threats of violence, problematic behavior

The next few weeks were a blur of activity.

When he wasn’t off on patrol or a mission, Mina and Kaminari kept Bakugou busy with dozens of team exercises, all of which needed your analysis. They ran him through any and every scenario that entered their brains, and after the first few rounds, Bakugou seemed to resign himself to their ministrations, his explosions no longer rattling the windows of the training room in displeasure. You’d reviewed footage of the first couple of rounds all together, the trio of heroes jammed into the tiny surveillance room with you, grimy with the ashy residue of Bakugou’s explosions, someone or another’s shirt partly melted off, and all of them looking exhausted but pleased.

Eventually, though, it became difficult for you to spare time in between your meetings with the other agency heroes. Bakugou was not helping matters by kicking the door down in the middle of your meetings and attempting to bodily remove anyone you were in conversation with whenever he wanted an update. You were dedicating almost as much time to breaking up fights and rescheduling appointments as you were to having the actual meetings themselves.

In the interest of maintaining the peace--and health and safety the Miruko agency employees--you wrote a quick script that monitored the training room footage and automatically ran your analysis program any time it keyed in on Bakugou, Mina, and Kaminari together on screen. It forwarded the results to their phones so that Bakugou wouldn’t come stalking in and making any more enemies than he already had.

That seemed to pacify him for a couple of days, and you managed almost twenty blissful meetings uninterrupted, until a Friday morning when no sooner had you flipped the lights on in the surveillance room than Bakugou was ripping the door open after you.

“Enough slacking off, nerd,” he growled, stalking over to loom over you in a vaguely menacing manner. It was early but he looked wide awake, maybe a little mussed like he'd already been training, the same combination of annoyingly handsome and intimidating as always. He was also dressed in some variation of his usual training set, dark fabric clinging to his chest, arms bare. The sight was really way too much for this early in the morning.

His sudden entrance startled you out of a yawn, and you just barely managed to catch your laptop before it slipped through your fingers.

“Good morning?” you hedged, looking up at him in apprehension.

He made an angry, dismissive noise. Before you could dredge up enough energy for a proper eye roll, something small and warm was thrust unceremoniously into your chest, briefly winding you.

You looked down at the item he was attempting to fracture your sternum with and found yourself staring at a white takeout cup.

You looked up at him in confusion but he just glared passively until you looked down again.

“....what is this?” you asked. Your hands raised automatically to take the cup from him.

“Battery acid,” Bakugou said.

You stopped, gaping at him, and he rolled his eyes. “The fuck do you think it is, idiot?” he demanded, gesturing at it forcefully.

You looked down at the cup again, a soft swirl of steam issuing from the opening in the cap. You brought it hesitantly to your face. A cursory sniff revealed very little in the way of poison--not that you had much expertise on the subject--but it did smell suspiciously like the house blend from the nice bakery down the street.

You stared at Bakugou with misgiving. “What is this, actually?”

He made a disbelieving noise. “You spend all this time acting like such a smartass and you don’t even know what a fucking coffee is? The fuck do you think you drink every morning?”

You couldn’t help but stare at him. There was absolutely no way Bakugou Katsuki was bringing you coffee. This had to be some kind of trick.

His threats from a few weeks ago floated to the forefront of your mind. I’m going to win the bet, he’d said, and then you’re in for it. Was this part of "in for it"? What was “it”, exactly, and was it likely that “it” entailed poisoning you in broad daylight in the middle of a hero agency?

The offing you in broad daylight seemed very much his style, but poison seemed a roundabout way to do it. No, if he was going to settle a score with you, it was going to be something much more immediate, and probably obnoxiously flashy.

You brought the cup to your mouth, taking a tentative sip. No acid tang of poison met your tongue, only the rich, buttery taste of the coffee. Though arsenic was said to be flavorless... Damn that was good, though.

Bakugou hovered impatiently, like he was waiting for something, wearing a strangely blank expression. You watched him nervously. Was the poison slow acting or something?

His scarlet gaze locked onto yours, and it suddenly hit you what he must be doing. You almost dropped the coffee. Was he...waiting for a thank you? As in, he was aware of and actively acknowledging that he’d just done something for you?

You decided to test the waters. “Thank you, Bakugou.”

He made an impatient clicking noise. “Fucking took you long enough.”

You frantically schooled your features into a mask that betrayed nothing of your shock. Christ, he was serious. He’d actually brought you a coffee, and he knew it was a nice thing to do? There was no way he was doing this just to do this. He had to want something from you.

“...So, what is it that you’re bribing me for?” you asked.

Bakugou’s face went dark, the tips of his ears strangely pink. “Fuck you. I don’t need to fucking bribe you for shit, with your obvious little crush on me.” He took a threatening step closer, and that familiar scent of gunpowder and caramel filled your nose.

You felt your face heat, your heart jumping into your mouth. Not this shit again.

So, it was absolutely true that you had a lot of trouble detaching your eyes from the width of his biceps, and that your brain ran wild loops every time he was close. But just because you had difficulty looking anywhere else when he was in a room, didn't mean you had a crush on him. He was way too much of a brat and it was exhausting trying to keep up with his weirdly intense personality. Just because he was pretty did not mean you had a thing for him...

“Why are you like this?” you complained, edging away from him as he moved nearer.

He smirked knowingly, taking another step closer. A small, traitorous shiver went up your spine at the thrill of a man so close. To your eternal embarrassment, Bakugou’s keen gaze seemed to catch it, a darker smile curling his mouth.

You opened your mouth to make some kind of excuse--though what you would have come up with was completely beyond you--when a head of wild pink curls poked itself through the door.

The intruder let out a quiet gasp, but that was enough to break the moment. Bakugou whirled on her, red eyes glaring.

“Raccoon, do you ever mind your own fucking business?” he demanded, in the tones of someone interrogating a war criminal.

Mina’s dark eyes widened innocently. “What? How was I supposed to know this is where you’d gone?” she asked. There was note of something gloating in her voice, however, and you got the feeling that she’d been hoping to catch you in some kind of act.

Your face went hotter. Why did everyone think there was a thing with you and Bakugou, including, apparently, Bakugou?

“Anyway, I’m not here for you,” Mina informed him briskly, derailing your wandering train of thought. “I was gonna ask stats girl to give us a hand this morning.”

She turned to you, her smile slightly predatory. “Blasty’s better at sticking close now, so we started focusing team exercises on victim evaluation. Any chance you can play civilian? Denki was for a bit but he started getting too into it.” A grimace flitted over her pretty features. “I almost lost an arm trying to stop Katsuki from blasting him clear into the stratosphere.”

You looked at Bakugou, but an irritated twitch of a blonde eyebrow was all you got by way of an explanation.

Your thoughts turned inward, wondering if this was a good idea. You’d been hoping to use the morning to get a little work done on a prototype of a productionized model, seeing as you had fewer meetings than usual today. And you hadn’t really come prepared for a potential roll around in the dirt and dust of the city simulation training spaces.

As if sensing your hesitation, Mina chirped, “I’ll let you a spare set of my training clothes so yours don’t get dirty! And you would probably be saving Denki’s life here--don’t you owe him one from the Hero Awards?”

Your gaze cut back to Bakugou without any direction from your brain. Bakugou appeared to be making no attempt to look apologetic about the incident at the Awards. He raised an eyebrow in challenge when your look lingered too long for his liking, red eyes narrowing in on you with a sudden heat. “The fuck are you looking at, nerd?”

“He means please,” Mina said, her voice going honeyed and wheedling. “Plus, it will be fun! I promise you I won’t melt any of your body parts off. Just Blasty’s, I swear.”

You couldn’t help the way your eyes stayed firmly attached to Bakugou’s face. His mouth twitched in obvious irritation at the implication that he would ever say please, but he made no move to correct Mina, limbs drawn in tight, defensive.

You looked down at the cup in your hand, sighing. He’d brought you a coffee and was doing minimal yelling. He appeared to be making some kind of effort here--though to what end you weren’t sure--and you supposed contributing to his training was ultimately your goal here, anyway. You could reward him for behaving himself as well as he knew how, and work towards your promotion at the same time.

“Fine,” you allowed, watching as Mina startled wiggling in obvious delight. “Let me finish this coffee and then I’ll help out.”

Mina clapped her rosy palms together. “Ahh! This is going to be so fun! You’ll see.”

Mina’s definition of fun was any civilian’s definition of fucking terrifying.

It was one thing to see the three heroes using their powers on screen, or safely tucked away behind a meter of quirk-enforced glass. It was another thing entirely to be in the center of the action, acid sizzling mere inches from your feet.

“You said you wouldn’t melt anything off!” you shouted, stumbling away from Mina.

She’d accused Kaminari of getting too into playing civilian--whatever that meant--but you thought she was way too into playing villain herself. A hard look passed over her pretty features, sending a chill down your spine. With that dark look, those unusual eyes and twisted horns took on a more sinister nuance. She looked almost like an alien, and moved like one too, stalking you through the twisting alleys of the training cityscape.

“Accidents happen,” she cooed, almost happily. She threw up a twisting fistful of acid that hardened into a warped wall in front of you. You skidded wildly on the gravel to avoid it. “Now stay still, you’re supposed to be a hostage.”

A choked little noise escaped you. Honestly, thank god this woman was a hero. You might have trouble sleeping at night if you knew a villain like this was stalking the streets, unchecked and unbound by social mores. You’d probably still have trouble getting to sleep tonight, even after she went back to smiling and bouncing all over the place.

“Actually, maybe Kaminari should take over again,” you managed, stepping back from her. “Not really sure if I’m cut out for this.”

A loud boom drowned out her reply, an office front a few blocks away crumbling under the force of the blast. You gaped at the force that shook the street, even blocks away.

Mina used your distraction to her advantage, grabbing the back of your shirt to haul you towards her. “He’s so obvious, my god--how he got to be number eight is beyond me. Now come over here and do your best to look injured. He needs practice evacuating people instead of coming in blasting.”

She fumbled with something on her belt, pulling out several bright red bands that proclaimed various types of injuries in blocky white font. Then she leaned over you, shoving a band up your arm that announced SEVERE BURNS, and another on your left ankle, proclaiming a DISLOCATION.

She clicked her tongue, looking you over. “Would more be overkill? This is enough that he should at least hesitate before trying to blow me sky high…” She seemed to decide against more, shoving the rest back into her belt. Then she gently pressed you down to the ground at her feet.

“This is the part where I get to monologue,” she said, winking down at you. “Do your best to look helpless and make sure your severe burns thing is showing. I wanna see if he can prioritize rescuing you over my trash talk.”

A soft groan escaped you. Fat chance. Bakugou was the most foul tempered little shit you had ever met, and while it was true that his single-minded focus on winning the bet meant he was tolerant enough to be doing this exercise in the first place, you highly doubted he was going to hesitate if Mina was pushing his buttons as expertly as she usually did.

The chance to find out came soon enough. There was a strangled kind of yelp and a crackle of lightning followed a thunderous boom a few blocks away as Bakugou presumably rendered Kaminari’s perimeter defense useless. Then with another screaming explosion, he was rocketing over the buildings separating you, barrelling straight down on Mina.

Mina threw up another acid shield that hardened into a defensive wall. Bakugou’s first attack cracked it but didn’t manage to penetrate. There was barely a breath between the cracking and another explosion, however, and then the wall exploded inwards in a crackling shower of fizzing pieces. Mina crouched over you, breathing excitedly, “This is the fun part!”

Whatever reply you might have given her was drowned out by an angry series of hissing snaps from Bakugou’s palm as he stalked closer to you. The right half of his shirt had been singed off by lightning, it looked like, and a fine veneer of dust layered in his hair and on patches of his skin. It was just a training simulation, but he looked half-wild, teeth bared and eyes bright over the ash on his face. If he looked nearly this intense in real life situations, it was a wonder that anyone would agree to be evacuated by him at all.

Maybe that’s why he sucked at rescues.

“It’s fucking over, raccoon eyes,” he said. “Hand her over.”

Mina laughed, a delicate sound like bells. “Not another step closer, hero, or I’ll melt a hole straight through her pretty neck.”

You twitched away from her minutely. God she was terrifying.

“Quit it with the fucking villain act, fuckwad, or I’ll blow you all the way to hell,” Bakugou growled.

Mina reached for your arm, pulling you up next to her. “Hmm, then I hope your aim is good. She’s already got one set of severe burns.”

Bakugou’s crimson gaze cut down to your shoulder and the displeased twist to his mouth deepened. “Fucking--of course you got yourself fucking injured. Fucking idiot.”

“Hey,” you protested, shifting against the band. “I’m not actually.”

Mina kicked you. “Moments to live, this one. Unless you can pull a healing quirk out of those glorious buttcheeks of yours.”

You choked on your own spit while Bakugou snarled. “I’m gonna fucking remember this, you strawberry fuck.”

“Maybe. But she won’t,” Mina said, and suddenly there was a rosy palm in front of your face, dripping acid. A drop landed deliberately on the fold of the training pants she’d lent you, searing straight through with a loud hiss. Your heartbeat spiked in violent alarm. You reeled back, but Mina was still crouched over you, and you banged into her collarbone.

In the next second, everything went to shit. Something searing hot blazed just over your shoulder and Mina swore, jerking back from you in the blink of an eye. There was a deafening crack and a rush of burning air over you as Bakugou let loose an explosion at the same time he seized your ankle and pulled you straight underneath where he’d aimed the blast, missing you by inches.

“What the fuck,” you gasped. Bakugou grunted, and yanked harder, pulling you straight to him.

“Quit being such a fucking princess,” he growled, shifting an arm underneath you. You froze, suddenly wishing that his explosion had managed to hit you, searing off every nerve ending.

“What are you doing?” you demanded, sputtering in alarm when he hoisted you against him. You could feel every place your body touched his, and smell the sharp gunpowder and sugar scent of his sweat. He hooked his arm firmly around your waist, glaring down at you with one baleful red eye.

“Fuckstick gave you a dislocated ankle so I would have to fight her off with one fucking arm and carry you with the other,” he bit out, whirling when a stream of acid came hissing your way.

You gripped at his shirt, swearing. “Oh my god. What the hell is she doing, aiming for me? This is a simulation! Also, I can walk.”

He grunted. “You can shut the fuck up is what you can do.”

He executed another agile dodge, pulling you with him. “Now hold on, princess, this is gonna be a rough ride with one arm.”

You didn’t have time to ask him what the hell he was on about. He aimed a shot over your shoulder, the heat simmering and boiling in the air next to your ear, and you heard the impact of Mina hitting the pavement behind you. In the next second, Bakugou tightened his arm around you, and aimed a palm for the ground.

The next thing you were aware of was a strangled screaming sound. It took a second for you to realize the mortifying noise was coming from you. But in your defense, Bakugou had literally blasted the two of you clear above the alleyway. You could see the wreckage from Bakugou’s scuffle with Kaminari, and Mina scrambling to her feet, much smaller and further away that you were comfortable with. Your hands fisted in his shirt and you nearly decapitated him with the force with which you shoved your face into his shoulder.

Even with your eyes closed, you could tell Bakugou hadn’t been kidding about the rough ride. Another blast from his palm jerked you sharply to the right, and he uttered a soft swear.

“Hold tight, nerd,” he said in your ear. There was a series of more explosions and you spun violently in the opposite direction. You went careening over a low roof top to land heavily on the pavement, Bakugou twisting at the last second to take the initial impact to his shoulder, rolling over you to distribute the momentum.

You rolled twice more, eventually stopping with his hard body under yours, your face jammed unpleasantly into his shoulder, his arms bracketing your sides. One of his hands was fisted in the back of your shirt, and a tuft of blonde hair brushed your cheek.

He let out a huff. “If you ever let her put the fucking dislocation band on you again, I’ll melt your damn laptop.”

You pulled back from him, hissing into his face. “If you dare, I'll--”

“The fuck you gonna do, nerd?” he demanded, sitting up. Straight into you.

You gripped his shirt so as not to fall right off of him, widening your knees for balance. Then you froze when you realized he was pressed against you everywhere, hard muscle and the heat of his skin bleeding through your training clothes. He was hot like a furnace, ashy and dust-streaked like one too, and his eyes glowed like banked coals. He gazed back at you, his mouth setting with some kind of a challenge.

Then those red eyes trailed slowly and deliberately down your face, stopping right on your mouth. His fingers tightened in the back of your shirt.

You couldn’t help your sharp inhale. Holy shit, was he...going to kiss you?

You sat frozen, locked in place, neither willing or able to move away, like you were being pulled towards him like some kind of magnet. Was he really going to do it? Was he really going to kiss you? Or, no...were you going to kiss him?

You could, you thought hysterically. That’s what it felt like, watching him breathe shallowly, eyes fixed on your mouth. You could kiss him and he would let you.

Had that been what all the your little crush on me shit had been about? Had he been torturing you not because he’d noted the way your eyes lingered over him, but because it was something he’d wanted to happen? Had that been what all the threats were for, what the crowding you against walls and the frigging coffee had been about? When Mina had said he’d been fixated on you, did she actually mean it less like revenge and more like actual attraction?

You let out a shaky breath. Only one way to find out, you thought wildly, leaning forward with your pulse singing in your veins.

And then an explosion rocked the foundations of the building, throwing you forward against Bakugou’s chest. You gasped, the breath knocked out of you, and whipped around to glare at his free hand in accusation. Bakugou pulled you back, however, a hard looking passing over his face.

It was only seconds before Mina and Kaminari came scrambling out of the maze of training buildings, looking worried. Kaminari was already crackling with static, agitated whips of lighting zipping across his skin. Bakugou's palm started to grow hotter against your back.

His next words threw the situation into sharp clarity.

“That wasn’t from a training room.”

[ironwoodprotectionsquad]

just saw a take in the anti-rwde tag so bad i had a whole allergic reaction /hj

it was about how rewrites are NEVER good because it ignore's the writers' work, and that if you make rewrites you never actually enjoyed the content.

like okay, i guess AU writers hate the content they pull from! because AUs do technically count as rewrites, just probably not what OP was thinking of (*cough* fixing rwby *cough*). actually, technically all fanfics are rewrites to some degree! fuck it! everyone who writes fanfic is actively ignoring the writers' hard work! damn!

sorry for disagreeing, but i personally think making rewrites means you're more passionate than if you were to just passively consume the content you were given! because you're putting effort into ignored characters, dropped plot threads, unexplored worldbuilding and lore, etc.! who are you to judge if someone's way of appreciating content is wondering how things could have gone differently, expanding on what the writers' didn't pay attention to? there is NOTHING WRONG with wanting to rewrite something, whether it's because you're just curious about how things could go differently or if you're unsatisfied with what you got. hell, even the rewrites i HATE i still hold some respect for because damn, take it from someone who tried and gave up, making rewrites is HARDDDD, ESPECIALLY for a show like rwby with so many characters and other factors to take into consideration

anyway, sorry for ranting in your askbox lol, i'm just so....jesus christ that take made me MAD.

Hey anon! First off never EVER apologize for ranting in my inbox! I don’t mind, I know sometimes venting out your frustrations can help you feel better. I do that a lot on my blog when something annoys me so I get how therapeutic it can be.

Secondly I have never gone into the anti-rwde tag because I know I would die after a few posts. I will stick to the RWDE and James Ironwood tags where I belong lolZ.

Regarding the meat of this ask, holy shit I just- why just why? How can you look at a show like RWBY that regularly and actively takes things like themes and character arcs and say that someone making a rewrite doesn’t love the original subject? People don’t waste time on things they don’t care about. We have limited free time to do shit we’re not going to waste it working on a project that does absolutely nothing for us.

I have a morbid curiosity for what they think of AUs because how this person describes it, they should be even worse then rewrites because aus fundamentally completely overturn what the original work was. It’s all about taking the characters you love and plopping them in something completely different from their canon universes. It is literally about exploring the infinite possibilities that a universe holds. Personally I almost exclusively write in Aus in anything longer then a one or two shot. They’re just so much more interesting to me to explore because I love seeing how minor things change the bigger picture and what these characters do.

Hey you know everyone is allowed to have their own opinions and they literally don’t hurt anyone just like how rewrites and AU’s aren’t hurting anyone. They’re a way someone expresses their love for whatever it is the rewrite or Au is for just like fanart. Just because their are certain things one would change doesn’t mean they still don’t enjoy the base media the rewrite is for. Their is always something that we love in it what’s why we create for it.

I may not like every rewrite or au or whatever for any fandom I love but I still respect the work put into it because these fics take a lot of work and time and effort and writers do this for free. Their is no way to get any compensation for fic writing yet people do it anyways because they love the thing being written about and this is how they express that love. That whole sentiment is just insane for me and reeks of a mega fan refusing to understand that their precious show might not be perfect and that sometimes people might have a better idea for something. Or even if it isn’t it still has value and these mega fans are just wrong about it not having value. As I said it takes time and effort and people won’t waste time on something they don’t care about or enjoy it helps no one and trying to pretend otherwise is just insane to me.

[na-na-na-nanna]

Catching Feelings

Part: six

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Wordcount: 5980

Pairing: goblin!Yoongi x reader

Warnings: cursing, drinking, smoking, kissing

Summary: Yoongi, a 700 year old goblin who has grown tired of his eternal excistence and wishes to become human, must gain all the human emotions before he can achive this, but the only way to do so is by kissing the humans who possess them

A/N: this got a lot longer than i planned, so i hope it’s not too boring. Also hope the shift in narrator won’t be too confusing. Anyways I’m a little nervous about this chapter

[20:28]

Yoongi had experienced human parties before, but to be frank it had been quite awhile. The last time was probably back in the Joeson era if he remembered correctly. At that time Jin had dragged him along, and forced him to partake in every human activity imaginable, and so he did. He drank their alcohol, sang their songs and played their games much to everyone else’s amusement. Yoongi didn’t particularly understand why his old friend and the humans he used to surround himself with wanted to dedicate so much of their mortal time doing such silly things, but then again he never really understood much about them to begin with.

“Which one of these say ‘I’m down to do it, but I’m not a slut?’” Yoongi was immediately snapped out of his trip down memory lane as Jungkook waved, what looked to him like, two identical black t-shirts in front of his face.

“I don’t know,” Yoongi answered truthfully.

The younger man was clearly unsatisfied with the lack of help and let out a big sigh before turning his attention to Jin.

“Same question,” He said, and Jin examined the two options that had been laid before him for a second before he let out a short “left one”.

For the next couple of minutes Yoongi just sat on the coach and quietly watched as Jungkook and Jin were bickering with one another over some expensive watch of Jin’s that Jungkook wanted to borrow for the party.

“You never let me borrow any of your stuff” Jungkook whined.

“That’s because they’re my stuff” The older one huffed in response.

“But you have so many, and you never go out,” Jungkook began to argue. “Don’t you think it’s a shame that no one gets to see them?”

“Not my problem,” Jin said without giving an ounce of care for what the boy had just said, and said boy knew he had lost yet another argument with his immortal master.

Jin had changed a lot since Yoongi had last encountered him, he had noticed, and he couldn’t figure out if it was simply just the passing time or if it was living in the human world that was the course of his drastic change of character. The great and beautiful Kim Seokjin, that Yoongi remembered from centuries ago, loved humans and would never pass on an opportunity to be around them. Back then Yoongi had struggled to understand Jin’s fascination with mankind, but had nonetheless always followed his friend's request to indulge in anything the human world had to offer.

It was strange how the tables had turned, and it was now Yoongi that was chasing after humanity while it seemed like Jin had left it behind. This change was truly strange, Yoongi thought, he could have sworn that Jin at some point even had a human…

“The car is ready for you now,” Jin said to the two party goers in his house.

“Sweet!” Jungkook exclaimed “I call shotgun”

[21:02]

The moment Yoongi and Jungkook stepped out of the car, the cold winter air hit them like a titlewave, and Jungkook was regretting his decision to wear the short sleeved shirt. He tried to hide the shiver that was taking over his body as two girls, which were also wearing outfits that did not seem to fit the weather conditions, walked by. It didn't make sense to wear so little clothing this time of year, Yoongi thought, and he wondered what could be the reason why humans choose to expose so much skin despite it being so impractical.

As the two girls passed them, Jungkook sent them a slight head nod followed by a cheesy smile, which immediately sent the girls into a fit of giggles. Once the girls were out of hearing distance Jungkook nudged Yoongi in the side with his elbow and with a smug smile on his face he said “See what I mean? A smile like that will make any girl’s knee weak”. Yoongi nodded as to show he had heard the information given to him, but he was still processing what actually to do with it.

“You should try it”

“Try what?” Yoongi asked.

“Try smiling for once,” Jungkook commanded “Like this” To demonstrate his face morphed into a big warm smile, almost textbook perfect. Yoongi studied his face for a bit before he tried to mimic the expression. He slowly opened his mouth to show off his teeth like Jungkook was doing. It seemed a little awkward, maybe he wasn’t showing enough of the inside of his mouth, maybe he needed to make the smile even bigger. And so he did, putting his gums on full display for anyone to see.

“Jesus Christ! What the hell is that?” Jungkook exclaimed in terror upon seeing the goblin’s miserable attempt at smiling.

“Am I not performing it accordingly?” Yoongi questioned his teacher.

“If your a bloody psychopath, maybe”

“So I am doing it correctly?”

“No that’s not what I meant,” Jungkook said, a bit frustrated. “Maybe you should just stick to not smiling for now. You know, go for the whole dark and quiet mysterious guy type of thing instead. Girls dig that too.” Yoongi didn’t really need the humans to “dig” him. He just needed them to be able to share their emotions with him, but he did like the idea of doing it quietly. He wasn’t so sure about the mysterious part though.

“You just let me do the talking, okay?”

“Okay”

Yoongi barely got to respond, not that he had much to say anyways, before Jungkook was dragging him into the apartment complex where the party was taking place. Even though it was still early in the evening the small apartment was filled to the brim with intoxicated humans who all looked to be enjoying themselves, at least Yoongi thought so. He had observed that humans were a fairly social species and liked to be around each other, even though it meant being packed together in limited spaces like this. This fact was also a mystery for Yoongi, but then again solitude had for the most part of his long life been the only thing he had known.

“Taehyung!!” Jungkook shouted from across the room. “Over here!” Once Jungkook had caught the attention of the man he was calling, said man made it through the crowd of people to where they were standing.

“Hey, good to see you man” the guy said as he pulled Jungkook in for a half hearted side hug. “Who’s your friend?” The guy shifted his focus to Yoongi.

“This is my friend Yoongi,” Jungkook introduced. “He’s new in town. Hope it’s okay I brought him”

“As long as he doesn’t break anything” Taehyung said, a little tense and probably referring to some of the other party attendees. It seemed like Taehyung stock out of norm and didn’t enjoy a lot of other people in a small space.

“Don’t worry. Yoongi is cool” Jungkook answered for Yoongi.

“Well, drinks are in the kitchen. HEY!! What are you? A caveman?” Some guy had now caught Taehyung’s attention. “Use a fucking coaster!”

“Guess you have your hands full,” Jungkook laughed.

“You have no idea,” Taehyung sighed “I’m literally going to kill Jimin after I teach this guy some etiquette” and just like that Taehyung was back in the midst of people slowly disappearing “Come on guys! The table is antique”

[21:43]

Yoongi was sitting alone on the couch next to a couple that were too invested in each other to even notice he was there, while Jungkook had gone to the kitchen to get them something to drink. Yoongi thought his seat on the couch was a good spot for observing the humans and maybe even spot one he himself could kiss, but he found it hard to concentrate due to the couple making out, which kept catching his eye. Maybe this was actually a good opportunity for him to learn about the way humans do kissing. The male was seated on the couch while the female was on his lap with her hands around his neck. The male’s hands were all over her, one minute they were in her hair, the next on her bare thighs or waist. The way the couple kissed was a lot different from the way the TV couples Yoongi had watched as reference did. The couch couple were much more engaged and almost animalistic in their movements and sounds. Yoongi had thought that the kisses he had seen portrayed in dramas were probably pretty accurate, but now he wasn’t too sure. He decided that the couch couple next to him was probably a better representation since they were not actors in a role. The both of them did seem to be very skillful.

“Hey creep!” Jungkook shouted as he returned with a drink in each hand. “Don’t drool on the carpet”

“I wasn’t” Yoogi corrected him as he received one of the drinks from him.

“Then stop perverting on them”

“I was just observing them,” Yoongi told him.

“Is what a pervert would say,” Jungkook joked.

[22:00]

“What about her?” Jungkook pointed at the crowd filled with dancing bodies. “She’s hot”

“I don’t think she’s what I’m looking for” Yoongi dismissed Jungkook’s suggestion.

“Are you for real?” Jungkook exclaimed. “Just look at her,” Yoongi took a closer look at the woman Jungkook was talking about. “She is definitely feeling it.” The woman in question was dancing closely with another guy to the rhythm of the song and seemingly enjoying the way all eyes were on her.

And Yoongi too caught himself staring at her for a bit longer than he did the other humans around him. Could she maybe be the one to make him feel?

“And then he left me!” A loud female voice sobbed from across the room and managed to steal Yoongi’s gaze away from the woman dancing.

Even to Yoongi it was clear that the woman crying was extremely upset and therefore also extremely emotional, Yoongi thought.

“I have to go after him” she cried out to her friend who was trying to console her. She was headed towards the door, and Yoongi couldn’t let an opportunity like this slip through his finger, so without much thought he ran through the crowd determined not to lose sight of the crying girl. This resulted in him taking a few hits as he made his way through the sea of people, but because he was so focused on reaching the girl in time, he didn’t notice who he bummed into.

[22:40]

“Do you think she could have gone home?”

“I think that’s very likely,” Jungkook said. “We’ll probably have much better odds at finding another girl crying her eyes out in Tae’s bath room, besides it’s fucking freezing out here”

“You go in,” The older said. “I’m just gonna take a few more rounds around the block”

“Suit yourself, pal,” Jungkook gave Yoongi a pad on his shoulder before he began running towards the building entrance.

Yoongi then began walking again, looking at every bypasser to see if it was the one that he was looking for. He eventually made his way to a convenience store where a young couple were standing closely up against one another.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” the guy said. “I’ll never do it again”

“You promise?” the girl said with teary eyes.

“Yes, I promise” The two of them now began kissing as well, and this time it looked exactly like in the k-dramas. Once again Yoongi was left not knowing how this act between two people was supposed to be performed, but he knew that the girl had stopped crying and it would therefore no longer make sense for him to also lock lips with her.

Yoongi began heading back to the building where the party was, hobing it wasn’t too late for him to find a human to kiss. He was about to cross the road when he noticed a woman walking in his direction. It looked like she was coming right at him, and the closer she got to him, the more apparent the look in her eyes became, a look Yoongi had never seen displayed on any human before.

[17:05]

“Y/N!” The sudden knock on the bathroom door almost caused you to slip in the shower stall out of surprise. You had gone straight to Teahuyng’s apartment after class in order to help him get ready for the night, on the condition that you could shower at his place. “I need you to go to the store with Jimin.” Taehyung's voice came from the other side of the door. You turned off the water which you immediately regretted now that your body was missing the warm embrace it was providing.

“Jimin is a big boy. Why do I need to go with him?” You complained, wishing desperately that you could stay in the shower until you had used all of Taehyung’s hot water.

“Because we both know that this big boy will end up only buying booze and forget all the practical stuff,” Taehyung argued. “Oh and you have the best taste in snacks”

“Aghh fine,” you sighed in defeat. “Just give me 10 minutes and I’ll be out, okay”

[17:26]

Even though you had borrowed Taehyung’s sweats for your quick trip to the store, you still found yourself clinging to Jimin’s left arm in hopes of stealing some of his warmth.

“Why are you only clingy when you gain something from it?” Jimin said with annoyance as you still hung off of him as you entered the store.

“Survival of the fittest, baby” you sent him a teasing smile, which he returned with an eye roll and an attempt to push you off, but you were stubborn and stronger than you looked, and if Jimin didn’t wanted to cause a scene right in the middle of the supermarket, he would have to let you stay right where you were.

As expected Jimin steered the two of you in the direction off the alcohol aisle first thing. You didn’t have much say in which and the amount of bottles Jimin so carefully picked out from the shelves with his free hand.

“This should do it,” Jimin finally said proudly after almost 15 minutes of picking and choosing.

“You do know that Tae only agreed to a small gathering, right?” You asked your friend in disbelief.

“Yes, but what’s the fun in that?” he said with a mischievous grin growing on his face.

“He is going to kill you” you tried to warn him, but Jimin seemed to care more about making this night one to remember (or rather forget) than his potential murder.

You knew there was no point in trying to talk some sense into Jimin so you just shrugged your shoulders and said “Whatever. It’s your funeral”

Once you made your way to the snack aisle of the store, it was now your turn to be in charge of what needed to be selected, which by the way was just as important as the liquor. You knew that the difference between a good party and a great party was the snacks, no doubt about it, so you always took your time when deciding which ones would be the perfect choice for the maybe not so small celebration of Taehyung. Chips was always a safe choice, everyone likes them and they won't leave you full but they’ll still be satisfying nonetheless. Now what flavours to choose? You knew it was always a good idea to have something with a lot of salt, so the sea salt flavoured ones would be the smart choice to go with, but personally you found them so boring. Popcorn was a much better option for a salty snack.

“Jimin, can you grab the popcorn for me?” Jimin did as you commanded and threw the box into the already filled shopping cart. Okay, back to choosing chips flavours. Your personal favourite was sour cream & onion, though controversial, but you had to admit it was hard to find a good dip to go with it. Maybe you should just stick to the classic that was cheetos.

“What do you think? Sour cream & onion or cheetos?” You asked for guidance.

“Uhm Y/N…”

“You’re right. We should just take boht” you said and grabbed the two bags of chips with your left hand from the lower shelf.

“What? No that’s not it” Jimin stammered hesitantly. When you looked up and in the direction of Jimin’s gaze, you understood why. On their way into the aisle, was your fuck buddy, or ex fuck buddy, with his other fuck buddy turned girlfriend holding his hand. You immediately made eye contact with Johnny and suddenly became super aware of the way you were still clinging to Jimin’s side. You tried to distance yourself from him, but it was now Jimin’s turn to not let go of you.

“Hey guys” Jisoo said in a cheerful tone as she and Johnny made their way over to you and Jimin. “Wow That’s some party you’re throwing” she giggled as she noticed the interior of your shopping cart.

“Oh yeah” you said “Taehyung got an internship so we’re celebrating. You should come”

“No we wouldn’t want to tag along” Johnny said for the first time.

“It’s fine, you wouldn’t. Right Jimin?” you looked to your friend for back up.

“Uhm sure,” he said “The more, the merrier”

“Okay, see you there then” Johnny sent you one last awkward smile before he and Jisoo went back to their own shopping.

[17:45]

“Now why would you invite them?” Jimin asked in all seriousness once you left the store.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you asked, trying to sound surprised by his question. “Johnny and Jisoo are cool, and I’m sure you’ve already invited a dosin of people”

“Yeah but they’re not my ex”

“Johnny is not my ex, though” you corrected him.

“You know what I mean,” Jimin said annoyed.

“So if you and I stop messing around, would you want me to not invite you to parties anymore?” you said teasingly.

“Shut up. You would miss me to much”

“In the bedroom or at the parties” you questioned him with a growing grin on your face.

“Both” he said confidently, and rightfully so. “But don’t you think it will be awkward?”

“It’s only awkward if we make it awkward” you told yourself.

“And you’re not the slightest bit jealous?”

“I’ve told you I’m not”

“You’re a fucking ice queen, you know that?” Jimin laughed at your seemingly lack of any human emotions.

“It’s one of my biggest virtues” you smiled at him.

“Except this ice queen is very bothered by the cold,” he joked before pulling you into his space again making sure you were warm.

[19:13]

“Is that what you’re wearing?” It slipped out of Taehyung when you stepped out of the bathroom where you had gotten ready. You looked down at the outfit you had brought with you from home and didn’t see why Taehyung would question it.

“Yeah, why? Anything wrong with it?” You asked.

“No, nothing wrong with it. It’s just a lot,” he clarified. “Or less, I guess” he grinned. You suppose he was right, but you had worn similar outfits in the past. The short skirt, showing of your legs and the skin tight top hugging your curves was nothing new.

“Yeah I know” you said “It’s kinda the whole point”

“Gonna show Johnny exactly what he’s missing” Jimin chimed in. Jimin wasn’t entirely wrong, but you were never going to admit that and it wasn’t like you had planned to run into him at the grocery store.

“No,” you said firmly “I picked this outfit out way before I knew Johnny was gonna be here”

“Johnny’s coming?” Taehyung asked with both a confused and concerned look on his face.

“And Jisoo,” Jimin said.

“Seriously!?” Taehyung whined “I told you guys not to invite friends”

“Whatever grandpa,” Jimin dismissed Taehyung’s words. “So tell me Y/N, if you’re not planning on making Johnny boy jealous, why the outfit then?”

“I always wear things like this” you tried to defend yourself.

“Yes, but not in the middle of winter, you don’t” Namjoon’s rational self joined the conversation that was unfolding. You were taken aback by Namjoon’s sharp optivational skills and searched your brain for a clever comeback or a perfectly rational reason for your decision to wear the revealing outfit, but nothing came to mind.

“I-l” you stammered “I don’t have to tell you anything” you said in defeat, knowing all too well that your friends would never let it go until you in fact told them.

“Let me guess then,” Jimin said with a devil-like expression on his face. “You plan to find Johnny’s replacement tonight” Fuck, you didn’t even realized that was what you were doing when you picked out what to wear. Why did Jimin have to know you better than you knew yourself at times?

Jimin took your silence as a sign that he had been right on the money. “Am I not enough for you?” he said, faux offended. “I’m hurt”

“Will you just shut up!” you exclaimed at his annoying teasing.

[21:26]

Hobi was a saint, that much you knew, and he had made it his life mission to make sure that you were okay, and tonight that meant never leaving your glass empty, especially everytime you would run into Johnny and Jisoo. Hobi would try to steer you in the opposite direction saying either you or he needed a refill. You appreciated your friend’s efforts to spare your feelings, but it really wasn’t necessary, you were fine. You had no reason to be anything but. You didn’t want what Johnny and Jisoo had, and you knew you could never give that to Johnny, so it was a good thing that they had found each other, you truly believed that. You tried to explain this to Hobi, but he still looked at you with pity in his eyes.

“Seriously Hobi, I’m fine” you reassured him “The only thing a feel is sorry for the poor guy trapped next to them on the couch as they make out” you sent Hobi the biggest smile you could plaster on your face to really convince him that everything was just fine. Hobi seemed to finally buy your words as he grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you to the living room that had become the unofficial dance floor. The amount of people in Taehyung’s small apartment made it difficult to fully unfold on the dancefloor, so you and Hobi opted for a more grinding close up at each other kind of dance.

This was nice, you had fun and was drunk off your ass, something you probably wouldn’t be able to do if you were in Jisoo’s position. You wondered if Jisoo would get jealous if she caught Johnny looking at you like this. You glanced over, and, wow, they were still going at it on the coach. Did they even care that there were others around them? Probably not. That was how it was to be in love. For a second you couldn’t help but think that it could have been you on Johnny’s lap if you had let him get close to you, blissfully unaware of your surroundings. It looked nice though, but no, that was not what you wanted. You liked your freedom and you liked simple, and one thing you knew was that once you gave that part of yourself, things stopped being simple. You liked how things were, and maybe you just needed someone new to remind you of that. That guy in the corner had been staring at you for a while now, not that you could blame him. You tried sneaking in a few glances at him to see if he was your type without being too obvious about it. You couldn’t get a proper look at him, but it didn’t really matter since he had this weird energy around him, which told you everything you needed to know about him.

“What are you doing?” Hobi had noticed the way your dancing now seemed a lot more calculated from only moments prior.

“7 o’clock” you whispered to him.

“What are you talking about?” Hobi asked over the music.

“The guy in the corn…” Wait where did he go? You looked around, your eyes searching through the room when your eyes landed on a moving silhouette who was charting towards you. Oh shit, he had finally gathered his courage and decided to come talk to you. “Okay stay calm,” you told yourself “you’re the ice queen, remember”. You straightened your back and pushed your chest slightly forward ready to show this guy exactly who he was up against.

“Hi, I-“ you were cut off before you could even get to the verb of your planned sentence. The guy had just walked straight past you, and bumping into your shoulder in the process. The fuck! Who did he think he was? Even if you had completely misinterpreted his intentions, the least he could do was apologize for the shoulder injury he had coursed in the collision.

“Man down. I repeat, man down” Jimin was dying of laughter because of the scene that had just unfolded in Taehyung’s living room. Seriously, why did Jimin’s annoying ass had to see you fail so miserably. You knew he would never let this go.

[22:56]

Upon your failure and the intense dancing session with Hoseok, you had lost most of your energy, and your feet and legs felt heavy. It seemed like Johnny and Jisoo had decided to move their make out session to somewhere more private since the couch was now all abbonned, and you saw a unique opportunity to get to sit down.

Like a sack of potatoes you fell into the soft cushions followed by Hobi, and for a brief moment you closed your eyes and leant back, but the moment soon passed as you could feel a pair of concerned eyes on your face. You forced your eyes to open again, and they of course were met with Hoseok’s.

“Are you okay?” he asked for the hundredth time that night.

“Yes, I just need to relax for a bit” you told him truthfully.

A cheeky smile appeared on your friend’s face “I might actually be able to help you with that” You looked at him with confusion painted on your face “Uhm okay that sounds kinda sketchy” Hoseok didn’t seemed to mind your weariness as he began to search the insides of his pockets.

“Tada!!” he cheered excitedly as he held out a neatly rolled blunt in front of your face. “This should do the trick”.

You didn’t normally smoke and the couple of times you had, it had been with Hobi. Both times you had been a giggling mess, which now that you thought about it wouldn’t be too bad. You could also need the relaxed and warm feeling you had experienced the other times you had gotten high.

“Fuck it,” You finally said. “You got a lighter?” But as Hobi fumbled after one, a dark looming figure appeared behind you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Shit! You jumped in your seat and nearly kicked over the bottles that were placed on the small coffee table.

“Uhm… N-nothing” you managed to stutter even though the evidence of what you were planning was still on full display in the palm of Hoseok’s hand.

“For fuck sake!” Taehyung exclaimed. “Do you want me to lose my depositum?”

“No,” Hoseok chimed in. “But don’t be such a party pooper. She needs this” The death glare Taehyung sent Hobi shut him up immediately.

“I’m so fucking stressed” he whined “But please just go outside” he almost pleaded. You would have felt sorry for him, but then you remembered he had made you go to the store with wet hair, something that was still causing you to shiver.

“But Tete it’s freezing outside” You tried to convince him, but there was no use in trying as he coldly responded with a “Not my problem.” And that was how you found yourself outside on the sidewalk in your miniskirt in the middle of winter trying to get high. Your hands were shaking as you tried to guide the blunt to your lips, which made it way more difficult than it needed to be. This made Hobi, who had just passed it to you, laugh uncontrollably. You found yourself starting to laugh along with him since it kinda dawned on you how ridiculous this whole situation was and how much of a fool you had made of yourself in the span of this night.

“What are you two maniacs laughing at?” Jimin and Namjoon had gone outside as well to get some fresh air, Jimin with some drunk girl under his arm and Namjoon with his red solo cup in hand.

“Y/N she’s,” Hobi said between giggles. “She’s fucking saking”

“Facts!” You yelled.

“You really should have worn something else” Mr. Know-it-all-Namjoon said.

“I know, I know, I’m a dumbass” you admitted.

“Yes you fucking are,” Jimin said “Want to borrow my jacket?” You looked him up and down before making eye contact.

“Won’t your friend be cold?” You referred to the girl haning to his side.

“Mhm…” He looked down at the girl. “You cold, baby girl?”

“No, daddy” she said with a sweet voice, and you couldn’t help but blur out a “Ew” upon hearing her nickname for Jimin.

“Someone’s in a bad mood,” Jimin teased. “And I bet it’s not entirely because of the cold” You knew he was referring to your brutal rejection in the living room.

“Listen the guy was in a hurry, okay,” you began to defend yourself. “If he wasn’t, he would have been all over me”

“You sure about that?” Hoseok annoyingly joined the conversation.

“Yes, not that it matters anyways. He was fucking rude. Lucky he got away before I could give him a piece of my mind.” You said seriously.

“Guess it’s your lucky day, then” Namjoon said and pointed to somewhere across the streets, and everybody’s heads turned to see what he had meant by his statement. You squeezed your eyes trying to see more clearly who it was standing alone on the other side of the street across from you. Something about the unidentified silhouette somehow drew you in, like a special energy. Wait a minute, it was him! The guy from earlier. Seriously, what were the changes?

“Now’s your chance,” Jimin dared you. Why did he have to know exactly how to get under your skin. You couldn’t stand to lose face once more that evening, so before you knew it you were crossing the street. And to be honest you were ready to go tell this guy exactly who he had been oh so rude to. On your way over you were gearing yourself up and practically fuming when you finally reached your destination, but that all disappeared once you found yourself standing face to face with the stranger and all the things you had planned to say in your head was completely gone the second the stranger had captured you with his gaze. He didn’t say or do anything, just looked at you, awaiting your first move.

“I-I uhm.. You” you stuttered trying to go somewhere with your words, but the man in front of you didn’t let you.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked abruptly which caught you off guard.

“What?” Were you hearing this correctly or were you just hearing what you wanted to hear.

“Is it okay if I kiss you?” he asked nonchalantly. Was he really being serious, or was he just being a jerk like earlier? Your better judgement told you it was the latter, but you still found your body leaning in closer and closer to the man.

“Okay” you agreed mindlessly as you closed the gap between the two if you as he placed his hand on your cheek and began to move his lips gently over yours. As he did so, you were passively taking everything in, enjoying being kissed on the sidewalk on a winter's night by a stranger who seemed to know exactly how to use his lips. You rested your own hands on his slim waist, slightly tugging at his jacket, while you began to reciprocate his kiss. He tasted so deliciously, it made your head spin, and before you knew it you were eagerly kissing him back with everything you got. His lips parted ever so slightly and you felt both greedy and bold, and seized the opportunity to sneak your tongue passed his lips. He followed your lead perfectly as both of your tongues entangled themselves with one another. The contact with his tongue send a shiver down your spine nonetheless, but weirdly enough ever since you had entered his space, you had stopped shivering from the cold, a first for the night, and now the only thing that made you shiver was the warm bubbly feeling you felt inside every time his tongue would grace yours, making you muffle soft moans against his mouth. His kiss was intoxicating and addictive, and you just couldn’t get enough of it, and to your surprise, you were so desperate for more, but somehow you didn’t care to try and hide the fact. For some reason he had this power over him that made you lose all senses and better judgement.

The kiss was getting sloppier now as you found it hard to control yourself with him, but when he put his hand on your hip, you almost lost it completely as your skin was practically burning under his touch. Who was this guy, seriously? And why did he have the ability to get you this rilled up merely from just kissing? You didn’t care enough to break from his lips to ask, you just drank in every last bit of him, dreading the moment you would have to let go of him. He must be some kind of god of kissing to have you feel this way, since kissing was normally your least favourite part. It was more times than not just something to get out of the way before moving on to something more daring. This was so unlike you.

In a perfect world you wouldn’t have to let go of him, but you had to break from his lips to catch your breath, and as you pulled away from each other a string of saliva was still connecting you. Neither of you said anything, and Yoongi was looking at you like he was trying to solve a code. All of a sudden you felt shy under his intense stare as if you hadn’t just sucked his face.

Yoongi was the first one to break the silence. “Nothing,” he blurted out.

“I’m sorry, what?” you asked.

“I felt nothing,” he sounded disappointed. ”Just now”. And just like that you were back to being cold.

You opened your mouth as if to say something, but nothing came out, and much to your surprise he stripped himself of his jacket and placed it over your shoulders. “Here, this is better” he said matter of factly before he turned on his heel and started walking away without another word, leaving you dumbfounded. You would probably have stood like that until the sun came up if you hadn’t been pulled back to reality by the sound of your long forgotten friend’s laughter from across the street. This was really a miserable ending to a just as miserable evening.

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