#doing weird bull shit for so many fucking words

[ketavinsky]

here we’ll dance, in this dark place...

oop, here’s my first venture into painting my gods in all their weird glory. it’ll be a long time before i can accurately depict any of the eldritch maximalist nonsense that day and night have got going on, but anyways: here’s sublime, the eldest of the new divinities, your local sleazy club promoter, that one fucking guy, etc. a bit of writing + some rambling under the cut!

sublime is the eldest son of night, and was modelled in night’s image. as night Himself is afflicted by the same inability to create anything of any originality, same as all the other old gods, sublime is almost a carbon copy of night in His youth. (think around the ming dynasty, during the perihelion phase of Their rule.)

after night’s marriage to dawn, and prompt divorce, night experiences a great deal of something that we’ll call shame and totally renounces all His creations prior to His marriage. 

His second son, scherzo, is modelled in dawn’s perfect image -- or, you know, as a caricature of dawn -- and sublime is shunned and eventually exiled. the sons of night do not get along: sublime is the prodigal eldest who is suddenly being denied his father’s empire, and scherzo is the over-spoilt youngest. 

sublime claims that scherzo is a glorified puppet sculpted by a lovestruck idiot; scherzo claims that sublime is a puddle of dark that their holy father accidentally spat onto.

missing word here, if you’ve ever... 

sublime now has no contact with his father or the nocturne, but he’s fond of his sisters, and will check up on them frequently. scherzo is very ‘i don’t give a fuck about humans, why should i, i am the flawless fucking machine, the eidolon, the hiemal almighty’ sigma bro hashtag grindset but sublime loves humans and is constantly making pacts with them even though he does very literally drive them nuts and distort them and uhh completely fuck up their lives. i’ve been really enjoying filling up his pinterest board hehe bc i really dig that oversaturated neon vibe where everything is a little too bright and vibrant to be entirely real + psychedelic nightmare surrealist clusterfuck etc etc. 

think coloured lights so bright they wash out the expression and the humanity out of the people you see, a warehouse packed full of bodies, your throat dry and pulsing with panic, sensory overload, a shape in the fog machines moving towards you, eyes like flashlights. sublime is very much a horror-oriented character mostly inspired by the struggle of clinging onto reality when you’re not entirely sure what you’ve taken.

he also loves cults and setting up cults, it’s like a hobby for him. he’s very much the black sheep of all the young gods, even considering the Exquisite Distillation, who is very much a mass murderer, but it’s, you know, well deserved. sublime is a slimy dude.

^^ above and below are from an oooold draft. im still trying to get the hang of how sublime interacts with scherzo. the sons of night are not strictly brothers due to the nature of how He creates things, but they certainly do not like each other. sublime cannot stand his successor even though he is forced to admit that scherzo is a flawless new god in both design and ability

it’s worth mentioning here that scherzo loves to lord his status over sublime. scherzo protects night’s great labyrinthine library and thus has unfiltered access to most of the well of human knowledge, as well as surveillance over most human individuals. sublime trades secrets, and puts a little piece of himself into every person he makes a pact with. they are both constantly going apeshit nuts that the other has something they don’t. 

anyways i hope to draw them more as i get a little bit more comfortable with more abstract stuff and then maybe i can even shift to painting the old gods someday. for now i struggle to plan out their character arcs

also they have fucking typing quirks for their weird i am everywhere and everything voices. i will never everrr escape homestuck unfortunately . ah well

im also playing with this idea where each of the new gods represent the inevitability of a great catastrophe (and the continuation of the cosmic cycle) in some way. still playing with this but minuet is the catalyst, sublime is the premonition of it, scherzo is the consequence and the rubble in the aftermath, ofluxe/the exquisite distillation is of course the huge fuckoff problem.

some minuet pov below because she is as of this current draft hellbent on dragging him into a family that embraces him. minuet is a total garbage fire shipwreck car crash of a functional goddess, but she has an iron conviction in the sanctity of family. this will of course obliterate her later.

sublime’s love for his sisters and his wife is probably his only redeeming characteristic, at least until minuet’s POV starts narrating the majority of the shitshow. dare i say misandrist icon. 

[sinofwriting]

Every Kiss Begins With Tabs - Max Verstappen

Words: 1,544 Summary: Max and her have a tradition that was born from their first kiss. Note(s): The idea for this fic popped into my head one night, didn’t know what driver to do with it, and then quickly realized Max is the only option with him driving for a literal energy drink company. Also, this features Max and Charles being best friends, because your honor, I love them. (and features a bit of Ferrari bashing, because of course)

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At the end of their first date, Max had watched as she shyly reached into her purse, fishing for something, before pressing a small thing into his hand and instinctively he held it. He didn’t even get a second to figure out what it was, since she kissed him as soon as it was pressed into his hand. It was small, barely a second, just a peck. But it had made him flush, staring at her with wide eyes before he murmured a quiet again.

Her bottom lip had found its way between her teeth for a second, before she nodded at his hand, the one she had pressed something into. For the kiss. He remembers her mumble, making her all the more cute to him, how she was shy yet bold in the same breath.

It had been near painful to look away from her, but he forced his eyes down as he uncurled his hand and saw a generic soda tab sitting in his palm. Her words rang in his ears and memories of watching girls in school give them to boys run through his head and he’s pressing their hands together, keeping it between their palms as he kisses her.

—

Max’s eyebrows are furrowed in concentration as he messes with the tab on his can of Red Bull. The sound of the press and his fellow drivers' voices washing over him. When it easily tears off, he pockets it, just as he’s asked a question.

“Over these last few months, you’ve been a lot happier. Many people thought it was you winning races making you so happy, but with Singapore happening, that has been disproven. Is there something other than winning that makes you so happy?” Max’s eyes darted over to his press officer, personal questions were on the no list for after races. She looks back at him with a raised eyebrow and he has to resist letting his brows press together. She clearly didn’t think this was personal and in nature he supposes it wasn’t, but it was leading. Raising the microphone to his lips, he speaks. “Well, I think I’d have a very boring, shit life if the only thing that made me happy was winning.” The reporter coughs, “Of course. But nothing new in your life?” “Not that I can think of.” There’s a frown on the reporter's face, but they don’t ask anything else, and the session is called to a close.

“I fucking hate reporters.” Max murmurs as he walks out the room. Charles snorts, hearing him and gently bumping their shoulders together. “I couldn’t tell.” “Haha. Was a good race for you today, though.” “I feel like I need a fucking bodyguard. I’ve been getting threats like crazy.” Max winces, having seen some for himself and also knowing from experience how bad they could get. “Ferrari hasn’t hired any for you?” He scoffs, “No, too much faith, I suppose.” “Stick close, come to Red Bull’s hotel with me, I’ve got an extra room and security.” “Ooh.” Charles teases, poking at his side as they exit the building. “Look at the golden boy with his security.” Max rolls his eyes, but feigns away as he reaches out again. “Are you coming or not?” He scoffs again. “Of course. I’m too pretty to be killed.” It’s Max’s turn to scoff, “You're something, alright.” he mutters.

Entering Red Bull’s garage with Charles would feel weird if it weren't for the fact that for nearly all of this season Bradley, Christian, Tom, GP, or himself had all been sneaking the Ferrari driver in. Max knows that Christian is hoping with them allowing Charles access to their garage and helping hide him away from Ferrari that he’ll join their team, and Max isn’t too proud to say that he’s started to wish that too.

“I’ve gotta get something from Christian first.” Max murmurs when Charles makes a confused hum when they don’t immediately go to his driver’s room. “Also, might want to text something to collect your stuff.” “Andrea will get it. I just need the hotel and room number so he can send some stuff over.” “Don’t want to sleep in Red Bull branded clothes?” Charles sniffs, sticking his chin in the air, perfectly making a haughty face. “Of course not. I have fashion sense.”

—

“You want room service or something delivered from somewhere?” Charles stares at him, “Mate.” Max grins at him before returning his gaze to his phone. “Had to ask. We do have Brazil next weekend after all.” “I want all the tacos in the world right now.” “Margaritas as well?” It’s silent for a second, “why not. Just one though.” Max rolls his eyes, typing out the number ten before hitting send.

“Food has been ordered.” “Thank god. I’m starving.” “Not going to offer to pay?” Max jokes, even though he’d refuse. “God no.” He scoffs before grinning at him. “Thank you, Max, honestly.” “It’s no problem.”

“When will the food get here?” Charles asks nearly thirty minutes later as Max unlocks the door. “Already here.” He tells him, opening the door up and stepping through.

Tossing his backpack to the armchair, he doesn’t see the confused look on Charles’ face or how it grows more confused when Max fishes something out of his pocket and holds it out, a grin on his face as he stands just beside the suite's sofa.

Charles nearly stumbles when a girl appears out of nowhere, words gathering on his tongue, only for them to die before they can form when she takes whatever it is out of Max’s hand and kisses him. He knows his mouth is open, jaw dropped, as he stares at the two.

“Hello.” Max murmurs, pulling away after pressing another kiss to her lips. Her head is tilted up a bit to look at him, nose scrunching a little as she smiles. “Hi. Well done on the race.” He grins and is unable to resist kissing her again before finally separating from her, only to wrap an arm around her and pull her into his side as he turns them both to face Charles. “Charles, this is Y/N, my girlfriend.” The other driver blinks at them for a few seconds before smiling. “Hello. It’s lovely to meet you.” He tells her, stepping forward to greet her with a hug, giving Max a thumbs up when she easily goes along with it. Max snorts at the thumbs up.

“Congrats on your race as well, Charles. Always nice to see you on the podium.” “Oh.” He can feel his cheeks turn a little pink at the compliment. “Well, it is always nice to be there, even if he is always taking the top spot.” She laughs and then she’s ushering them both to sit down at the small table nearly overflowing with food. “Oh my god.” Charles breaths, staring at it all. “It’s beautiful.” “I think you're just hungry, mate.” Max remarks and Charles notices how she passes whatever Max handed her before they kissed back to the driver before giving him a peck on the lips. “Of course, I’m hungry.” His eyes wander over all the food, all the tacos, and he knows that Andrea will be pissed at their next session when Charles tells him what he ate, but he knows he won’t regret it. Even when Andrea makes the session a triple.

“Can I ask a question?” Charles asks, after they are done eating. The twelve tacos he ate and two margaritas he had in combination with pleasant company made him feel content. “Is it a stupid one?” “Max.” She playfully scolds, but there’s a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Of course.” “What is with the thing? The small thing you pass back and forth.” “Oh,” her eyes are a little wide and she seems to have stiffened and it has Charles' eyes widened. “You do not have to answer. I was just curious. You can of course tell me to shut up.” “No, it’s okay.” She shares a look with Max. “It’s just a habit, I don’t even really think about it anymore.”

Charles watches as she carefully extends her hand and opens it so he can stare at the thing the couple has been exchanging. His eyebrows furrow when he sees it’s a tab to a Red Bull can.

“Before I kissed Max for the first time, I gave him a tab from a soda can. It’s become a tradition of sorts.” His face softens at the explanation, and this whole weekend he has missed Alex, but now more than ever he wishes that she was able to come with him. “That is very sweet.” His lips then curl into a smirk and he looks at Max. “Must make sex uncomfortable though.” “You mother,” Max cuts himself off as he hits Charles with a pillow, his fellow driver howling with laughter. Hitting him with a pillow again, Max looks at her to see her laughing as well, face bright with joy and his hand is ducking into his pocket pulling out a spare tab he always keeps on him, pressing it into her hand before kissing her, ignoring the fake sounds of throwing up from Charles as he does.

@gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @topguncultleader @iloveyou3000morgan @boiohboii @bibliosaurous @skepvids @elliegrey2803 @cixrosie @darleneslane @fanboyluvr @teti-menchon0604 @eugene-emt-roe @quackquackhun @rewmuslupin @copper-boom @stopeatread @crashingwavesofeuphoria @jointhehunt67

[pbnbucks]

Hi would you write smut for Nika muhl?

word count : 890

warnings : sad sex kind of?, angsty, poorly written smut

summary : nikas been acting weird and you give her a taste of her own medicine

“nika! where have you been its 3:18 in the morning” nika takes her coat off as she walks in ignoring you, ignoring the fact that your screaming and angry acting like nothing happened.

“i was out with the team” she says blankly reusing the same excuse that shes been using for months.

“oh bull shit nika your always with the team” sarcastically dragging out your voice at the girl who clearly had a night who still ego boosted as she walks past you

“you know what im gonna start doing everything you’re doing, im gonna let everything that walks by fuck me, and act like i don’t care and come home late” and with that sentence her heart drops to her stomach as she turns her body walking your way arching her back down to meet your face at the same level using her height to try and claim dominance,

this wasn’t the nika you knew, the one who wanted you to fear her.

“what did you say?” you scoff at her pettyness “you heard what i said im fucking tired so fuck you im going to go do whatever i want and if that means fuck other people then so be it asshole” raging as the girl in front of your face doesn’t change her facial expression only furrowing her eyebrows lightly wanting to remain unfazed.

her familiar hand found its way to your neck thats been placed there many times, when she was in loving and sweet mood but this time shes purely angry

“nika get the fuck off me” she pins you against the wall holding your body under her as your entire body’s are touching each other “don’t ever say that your going to fuck anybody else or so help me-” she says degrading you but you cut her off before she can try and make a point that you could care less about

“you’ve been fucking God knows who and your expectations are for me to be tied down and okay with it? are you fucking serious nika?” nika often took advantage of you, taking you for granted, not listening to things you wanted her to respect in your relationship. she wasn’t the same sweet girl anymore, the girl who made sure you both where in bed by 9 pm.

“you don’t mean that shit baby.” you knew the card she was going to play, sweet talk you and then in 3 days its back to the same day routine “the fuck i don’t nika, i wish i never met your sorry ass”

this was the comment that sent her overboard her whole face changed from nonchalant to complete rage, she overused her nonchalant cover so what happened next had you shocked as she dragged you to the bed shoving you face down as she got on top of you going to say something in your ear

“i wanna hear you say you don’t mean it” you whine because you knew nothing would change you where going to forgive her, she would play nice for a bit and then go do what she pleases.

“please start caring nika” you cry out as her body begins to hug every part of you as she places soft kisses along your jawline “i know baby, i know im sorry..” she says hesitantly as she wasn’t known for letting people see her feelings, not even you.

“i want to make it up to you, so fucking bad” she slides her large cold hands up and down your waist trying to calm you down from your pain washing over you. “i promise babe, gonna make you feel so good” she assures you as she flips you onto your back brushing the hair out of your face and with that your flipped on your back as her hands roam all over your body

she slips the strap on as she slowly enters the strap into your sweet hole as a groan leaves your mouth while your stuff your face into a pillow gripping the sheets.

“no pretty i want to see your face” she coos as she takes the pillow away from you running her fingers up and down your leg.

pornographic moans continue to leave your mouth as nika continues to push her hardened strap into not slowing down by any means.

“so fucking good” you plea out as you feel your walls begin to tighten, nika brings her fave down to face level with yours placing kisses along your jawline

“im so so sorry my good girl, i love you so fucking much” she mumbles in to your neck as her hands roam down to your butt massaging the large chunk she had in her hands

“i love you too mommy” she hums in response to your reply moaning in to the sweat spot on your neck

“i know you do mama i know” she coos edging you in to your release “want you to cum right here pretty” she whispers seductively in to your ear as you liquids begin to spill on to the strap that fills up inside of you, as moans begin to spill and fall out of your mouth.

“so so sorry princess” she reassures you for the final time

but sure enough a week later the same argument and event occurred again.

[eldritch-spouse]

So I was wondering how would Kalymir react if his heir had a nightmare and went into his room? Sorry, this is weird and kinda dumb, also your my favorite writer, and I hope you're doing well!

[I'm your favorite writer?? 🥺🥹 *sniff* ooOough-]

Sometimes Kalymir wonders if having you involved in the process of raising his heir is a good idea.

You teach them human weakness, something they absolutely must not have if they ever wish to take the throne, to maintain it. Offering them a different perspective is something he can appreciate, but when that same perspective softens the character of his child, the demonlord can't help grow anxious.

The worst possible outcome would be an heir that is too soft for Wrath. Something Kalymir drills into your head whenever you seem to be imparting too much "flowery shit" into your own child's mind.

This has created many a conflict between you, but he's glad that you don't just pipe down, he likes it when you scream right back and throw yourself at him about your rights as a mother. That's good, you need to keep that spirit. At the very least, you've accepted that your child is the son of a Lord of Wrath, and their nature will always seem "callous" to you. They love you, they just don't show you that the way a human child would.

Nevertheless, it still falls onto Kalymir to correct some of the culture you impart. Like the "beast under the bed" story, for example. He chewed you the fuck out for that one when he found out the kid was sleeping anywhere except in their room as a result. An heir fearing their own territory?! What madness!

Kalymir wasn't asleep when he heard the tap tap tap of his child's footsteps across the halls. They open the door to the bed chambers and stand quietly in the darkness.

" WHAT. " Kalymir turns to them.

They may try to hide it, but there's no concealing the slight tremor of their limbs, and the tail tucked between their legs.

" Where is mom? "

" WITH ROCH. "

His heir makes to leave without another word, but he slams a foot down.

" DON'T WAKE YOUR MOTHER. SHE NEEDS UNINTERRUPTED SLEEP. "

The child looks confused and uncomfortable now, clearly seeking you specifically for this. Kalymir would be rolling his eyes. As is, he gets off the bed and passes by his own kid in the halls. Although they are growing fast, something pleasing to the King, they can barely keep up with their dad's massive footsteps.

" COME ON, SQUIRT. "

They do, visibly confused.

" Father- "

" NIGHT TERRORS AGAIN. "

The halfling puffs their cheeks, their hair standing. " NO! That's stupid- "

" YOU SCREAM IN YOUR SLEEP, KID. " He chuffs like an irritated bull. " YOUR MOTHER'S LULLABIES WON'T FIX THAT. "

The future ruler of Wrath deflates, not quick witted enough to deflect the truth.

" Where are we going? "

Kalymir puffs his chest, something the kid immediately mimics.

" THE TRAINING GROUNDS SERVE MANY PURPOSES. "

Fortunately, the King can't see his own progeny mutely huff and roll their eyes when their dad starts blabbering on.

" THEY KEEP YOU SHARP. THEY KEEP YOU HEALTHY. THEY MAKE YOU POWERFUL... AND THEY QUIET THE MIND. "

The two arrive upon the first combat room, a rather basic one, with no objects to be used mid-fight, aside from the weapons available for each fighter's choosing. This is a routine the heir is already well-adjusted to, casually standing on the tips of their toes to reach their favored dagger, while Kalymir simply stands on the "field" with nothing but his own body.

" Come on dad, I've already trained today- "

" OPEN THOSE FUCKING EARS. "

He rapidly tears one of his own spiked growths out of his shoulder, hurling it at the child with a speed that would likely give any normal mother a heart attack. However, that small body very easily jumps out of the way, trying to use their own father's size against him when they weasel around his great form and attempt to slice his legs.

To no avail, not only is Kalymir's skin much too hardened to be slit by a mere dagger, they fail to take his tail into account, getting a blunt blow to the midsection and rolling away in pain.

" SECOND TIME YOU FORGET THE TAIL NOW. " The Icon tuts, snorting at their whining child.

" Fuck you, old fart... "

" DID YOUR MOTHER TEACH YOU THAT ONE?! "

The kid only shows their tongue in a taunt before crawling to their side of the room again.

" LISTEN TO ME. WHEN YOU WAKE IN THE NIGHT BECAUSE OF YOUR OWN MIND'S COWARDICE, YOU COME TO ME AND WE SPAR. "

The princus blows hair out of their face and adopts an offensive stance.

" YOU WILL SLEEP LIKE A FUCKING BABY TONIGHT, YOU'LL SEE. "

He can't help but smile when they simply shriek and sprint towards him as fast as their tiny body allows.

Kalymir's going to rub it right in your face when those nightmares all but disappear.

[unnerving-presence]

I'd love to hear more riding wesker hcs!!

actually i’m gonna turn this into a whole ass request because i got too much to say 😭😭

not proofread so if shit look weird that’s why ☹️

NSFW Below!

☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎

Wesker loves admiring you while you ride him. He can’t get over how absolutely stunning you look. I’d imagine he has some sort of pent up arousal he didn’t know he had so when he watches you slowly take each and every inch of his cock inside of you he almost goes FERAL.

Praise praise praise! Wesker loves telling you how good of a job you’re doing, how good you’re making him feel, or how perfect you look while you ride him. Albert notices so many little things he loves about you. He can’t go a moment without praising you, so expect to hear a lot of it.

His praise isn’t just limited to words either. He loves having his hands on any and every part of your body. There is no point in time he won’t be touching some part of you. He especially loves just holding your waist, rubbing your skin with his thumb or slowly running his hands up and down your body while he watches you.

He loves all the sounds you make. Even if you don’t make many loud noises like moaning he still loves hearing your little pants and small gasps and learns exactly what makes you feel good just so he can hear those small noises. Anything that tells him that you’re enjoying yourself is something he enjoys. If you’re someone who makes lots of noise? He’ll make sure you’re practically screaming when he’s done with you. Your moans are like music to his ears.

Wesker himself also makes quite a bit of noise. If you want to ride him slowly, you’ll hear small, quiet moans as he tilts his head back, taking in the pleasure. If you want him to take the lead and assist you? You’ll hear a few grunts and growls as he lifts you up and drops you back down onto his cock. You want to make him see stars and ride him like a bull in a rodeo? There will be no end to his constant groaning and moaning. However you wish to take him, he’ll be making noise no matter what.

His cock will bulge through your stomach. Wesker has to physically stop himself from pounding you into the ground each and every time he sees it. It’s such a genuinely beautiful thing to him and he loves pressing his hand to your stomach so he can feel it. He often brings your own hand to your stomach as well so you can feel it with him.

Albert will not judge you if you can’t ride him for long! He sees how it can be exhausting and he will always be there to hold your hips and help you move when you’re too tired to. He also doesn’t mind simply thrusting up into you either. Either way, you both will be satisfied by the end.

His stamina knows no bounds. If you want to keep going but you physically cannot move your lower half? It’s okay, he’ll just hold you close while he fucks up into you. You have lots of stamina too and you can keep up with him? Even better. Wesker respects you and what you want and is not against going for however long you want.

[crowscadence]

BSD as things I’ve heard in band

Tachihara: Who wants to do some carpool kareoke?!

Akutagawa: I’d rather you skin and boil me alive

Yosano: They were like “should we medicate her?” and I said no because I didn’t want to lose my sparkle

Ranpo: I don’t have to worry about that because my sparkle is autism

Kunikida: *sigh* I’ve been afflicted by Dazai’s bullshit

Dazai: hey scoot over a bit

Chuuya: no you’re not my master

Dazai: actually I am, be my dog

Dazai, holding just the head of a dog-shaped cookie jar: Isn’t he cute?

Atsushi: Dazai why do you have a dog head

Dazai: The rest of the body is in my bag :)))

Atsushi: That doesn’t make it any better-

Dazai: Hey, did you hear who just got asked out?

Chuuya: Who?

Dazai: You *finger guns*

Atsushi, running from Akutagawa: Help, I’m being attacked by a wild emo!

*15 Dazai and Chuuya arguing over the plural of penis*

Mori: you two are making me question my life choices

Nikolai: What if edible p*rn was a thing?

Sigma: please never say those words in that order ever again

Dazai, after a mission: You know Atsushi you’re really not beating those furry allegations

Atsushi: yeah I saw that one coming

Kenji: Going to Paris without seeing Versailles is like going to New York for the first time and not seeing the Tilted Towers

Kyouka: …Kenji that's from fortnite

Yosano: well you may be the best walking condom ad I’ve ever seen

(This quote would fit so many)

Ango: nothing like a government website to keep you up at 2AM

(this was from my band director)

Kunikida, talking about Dazai: The fact that he’s not responding to my texts right now is bull because there’s no way that sleep-deprived, caffeine-addicted twink isn’t awake

Dazai: this is the face of a professional

Atsushi: that’s the face of a fucking idiot

Kunikida, talking about his headcanonned college experience: do you know what kind of foul things come out of frat guys’ mouths?

Dazai: no but I know what foul things probably go in them

Akutagawa: I must be a poison type because I can’t stop fucking koffing

Dazai, mocking fyodor: what’s the point of saying meow if it’s not in a Russian accent?

Dazai: I dunno about you but Tom Riddle could grease my cork

Dazai: never thought I’d see the day when I’d be handcuffed in the band room but okay

Ranpo, putting on sunglasses inside: gotta rep that autism

*Dazai bitching and moaning about sore muscles*

Atsushi: be glad for the pain, it means you’re alive

Dazai: bitch you know I’m suicidal

Dazai, holding up a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt: oh my god guys this is the shirt I wore to emergency therapy after trying to off myself

Albatross: do y’all think I could pull off a black turtleneck or would I just look like that kid from The Incredibles

Atsushi, walking with his hoodie pocket full of tuners: I’m like a marsupial with my tuner babies

Dazai: Listen that song is a banger, but with all those weird time signatures I think that playing it would make me wanna kill— shit I forgot I’m not allowed to make that joke anymore

[graciegoeskrazy]

If you’re living and you’re 17

Pairings: Matty Healy x Teen!Daughter!reader, George Daniel x Teen!Niece!reader

Warnings, SUICIDAL THOUGHTS AND SELF HARM, lots of cursing lmao, yelling, so much fucking angst, mentions of losing friends, shitty fathers for a second, lil cliffhanger (?),

A/N: Requested by a super sweet anon! I ended up adding to the original idea so sorry if it’s not how u invisioned it but the creative juices kept flowing and my fingers just kept on typing. Seeing the 1975 in ONE WEEK! Thx for all the love!

You walked inside the tour bus and was greeted with an overwhelming fume of drugs and laughter. Adam was the first to acknowledge you. “Y/n, you want some food? I’m ordering Chinese.”

“No, Thank you. I’m good.” You said, on your way to your bunk.

“What’s up with y/n? She seems off.” Adam said.

“I don’t know. Teenage hormones I guess.” You heard your father say, laughing.

Just then, Ross came bursting through the doors with a huge grin on his face. “It’s official mates! A 3rd leg is completely booked. 40 cites, almost every continent, and we’re ending it in Madison Square Garden!” Everyone cheered and smiled. All except you.

“God!? For how long?” You asked. A look of panic on your face.

“About a year?” Your mouth dropped in shock. You just turned to your dad and whispered a simple, yet strong, “Fuck you.”

You stormed off into to bunk room. Your dad rolled his eyes and said, “I hate teenagers.” causing the others to laugh. He followed you into the other room.

“Hey! What is going on with you lately?”

“Nothing. I’m sorry I said anything. I’m happy for you.”

“Really? Because that didn’t look like fucking happiness over there!” He was fuming. “Stop fucking lying to me, ok? Now, tell me what the fuck has gotten into you.”

You dropped everything and put your hands over your eyes. “I can’t keep doing this.”

Your father's anger continued. “What? Doing what?”

You suddenly stood up facing your father and letting it all go. “THIS! This! Living this crazy life with you and putting on a smile like everything is fucking fine, but nothing feels fucking fine! However many times I try to talk to you, Tell you how I’m feeling, tell you that I’m having thoughts of ending my life every single God damn day, tell you how much I hate my life with you, it never works because you never listen!”

Matty’s face contorted into confusion, his anger mostly dropping. “What do you mean?”

“God, it’s like I’m talking to a brick wall all the time. Are you even listening? Have you ever thought about listening to what I have to say? Or how I’m feeling? No. Because you never care for anything other than yourself.”

“I…I don’t understand.”

“I’m tired, Dad. I’m tired of spending every waking hour of my life in a tour bus, or hotel room, a plane, or any bed that isn’t my own. I’m tired of your bullshit and you getting drunk every night partying with 40,000 people. I’m tired of getting blamed for the stupid shit that you say or do. I used to think that this whole tour thing would be fine. I would enjoy online school and maintain my relationships - and I did. Until you came along and did something that scared them away! Now all my friends are weird 30-year-olds and I’m failing in every class I take but I don’t even get the chance to tell you that I’m struggling! I’m tired of seeing you all over social media skipping from woman to woman who eventually gets tired of your bull shit or then find out you have a daughter and run scared. I wish I could be like them and run from Matty Healy the first chance I get, but I can’t because I’m stuck here. In this fucking smelly tour bus, letting you live your dream while I watch my entire life fade away.”

To say the least, Matty felt awful. How could he have been this blind? Had he really not noticed at all how much his own daughter was suffering? He was at a loss for words, and yet still tried to find the right ones. “I’m sorry.” He said.

“Thanks, Dad.” You said, Walking away and into the main space.

Everybody that was in there before had left except for Jamie, Ross, and George. When you walked in you immediately went up to George.

“Can I spend the night at your place?”

He gave you a weak smile and put his hand on your shoulder. “Yeah, of course.” He said.

_ _ _

Nearing showtime, you avoided your dad. Instead of hanging is his dressing room or the green room, watching him do his prep or play music together like you used to, you were in George’s. You told him that you would be fine if he went into the green room to hang out, but he wanted to leave you alone for as little as possible. You were thankful for George and all he did throughout your life. Sure, he was technically your official unofficial godfather, (official because your father deemed him that the day you were born and unofficial because your father also doesn’t believe in God so you never went through with the baptism) but ever since you were young he has always been a second parent to you.

After the show, George drove you back to his hotel room as promised and told you to get ready for bed. At one point he heard a loud thump of some sort come from the bathroom. You knocked over the soap dispenser on accident and picked it up with no problem. When George came around to check in on you and see what had happened, he noticed your arm.

Red and littered with marks all over.

His first reaction was to run to you, grab you, tell you to never do that again, slightly scream at you, and then make sure you were okay, but he knew this needed to be handled differently. He went back to the bed and waited.

You came back just a few minutes later and to no surprise, your sweatshirt was back on. “Ready for bed?” He asked. You nodded in response. He pulled back the covers to let you get in and stood up. He planted a kiss on your forehead before continuing. “I’ll be back, I gotta make a call.”

“Uhhhh, You’re not gonna tuck me in?”

“I just did!”

“That was a bad tuck. Plus you're not gonna stay with me?”

“It’s a work call. It’ll be fast.”

“Dude, it’s midnight,. Nobody you talk to at work is gonna answer. Especially my dad if you’re trying to call him. He’s probably black out drunk already.”

He let out a slight laugh. “Okay fine.” He agreed.

He got in on the other side and pulled you close - your head leaning on his chest. After a few minutes of going back and forth, he finally gave in and played the movie you wanted to play instead of what he wanted. It backfired on you though because within 20 minutes, you passed out. He chuckled at your quite, delicate snores and pulled out his phone, dialing your dad.

He answered right away. “How is she?”

“Well, given the circumstances i’d say she’s good. Calmed down a lot. She sound asleep right next to me.”

“Ok. Ok, that’s good.”

After a brief pause, George continued. “Listen, Matty, I gotta tell you something…about y/n.”

“OK?”

He cleared his throat before speaking. “She was getting ready for bed, brushing her teeth and stuff and I came in to check on her.”

“OK?”

“She had her sweatshirt off. She was in a tanktop, and there were red marks all up and down her arms.”

Matty couldn't believe what he was hearing. “Do you mean that she-”

“She selfharmed, mate.”

Matty wanted to burst into instant tears. “Jesus Christ.” He said.

“I didn't bring it up. She didn't even notice I was standing there. I just figured that even though you shouldn’t be having that conversation alone with her, it wasn’t right for just her and I to have it.”

“Yeah. You’re right. What happened after?”

“Nothing, She came out with the sweatshirt back on, I tucked her into bed, sat next to her and she fell asleep watching a movie.”

“Ok,” he said hesitantly.

“Listen, I’ll keep my eye on her tomorrow before the flight we’ve got to have a conversation with her.

“Alright.” Your father said.

All the while, you were fast asleep.

PART 2

[hikarry]

Do you have any writing tips? I'm a beginner writer and I'm kinda struggling

Not sure I'm the best person to ask for writing tips - I legit haven't worked on my newest wip for, like, 2 weeks now, but I will share what helps me (and what comes to mind)

Try to write a little bit every day. Even if it's just a sentence. Even if you are going to hate it the next day and are going to delete it to write something new. Just write, don't lose the flow - I'm very bad at following this but it does work when I do it, believe me

Are you good with dialogues and you find yourself stuck? Just focus on the dialogues, as if it was an rpg or smt. Leave the descriptions for later, like filling a sandwhich. Stick to what you know and like best when you're stuck, so you don't get frustrated

Are you writing a boring scene that's still necessary and are more excited to write another scene? Write the scene you're excited about first. Don't be afraid to jump around from scene to scene and up and down the wip. Sometimes it even helps you develop your idea more and give you more clarity

Research everything, for as weird as it might sound. Not only is it fun as fuck and gives you a lot of free inspiration, but having accurate shit in your story is fucking fun. For the Time War AU I researched bars in London in 1941 and chose a real location and that gave me an inspiration boost like anything

You've done everything I've said, but you're still stuck? Go to google and search for writing prompts. Make a game out of it. Find a way to put those prompts into your story. It keeps your brain juices flowing and it can give you free plot. Plus, it's hella fun. At least for me it is, I love that type of shit

Did you have an idea while you were in the bus heading somewhere? Write it down. On paper. On your phone. Just fucking write it. Don't lose it. Don't think "I will remember later". You won't. Just fucking write it down, it can be gold

This isn't exactly a writing advice, but a post-posting advice: Doesn't matter how many comments or kudos or whatever you get. Kudos and comments are not a measurement for how good your fic is. I've found some fanfics that barely have any views and are pure unfound gold. Besides, many people are shy readers and don't like to comment - and that's their right. Just don't lose faith because your numbers are low or something. That doesn't mean anything at all, just keep going

Fuck word count. Honestly, I hate that shit. It puts way too much pressure on you and can get your very frustrated very fast. Just go with the flow. Write as much as you can or as much as feels right. Don't give yourself a limit/goal. Just do what feels good

Do an outline. Honestly, for me that's the most fun part of the process. Not only does it help you keeping the plot consistent, it's just fun to dump all your ideas into boxes in a timeline. And you can always delete, add or move shit around as much as you like, even if you've already started writing. It's an amazing foundation and makes writing easier, in my opinion. Or maybe it's just my lizard brain that likes to organize stuff talking

The most important: Don't write what you think other people want. Write what you like. Write for you. You're your own target audience. You're creating something that you wish existed and didn't, so you took the bull by the horns and did it yourself. For you. If other people like it, good for them. But this is for you. You're writing something you think should exist in the world. Write your vision and have fun with it.

Hope anything works for you

[random-doctor-on-the-internet]

Ok. So, well, @weirdly-specific-but-ok , I promised you a mafia story for helping my friend. You helped my friend, you'll get a story.

Sorry, I didn't read it again before posting so it's entirely my fault if there are English mistakes. Fuck la grammaire.

I have no idea about what to write so don't expect high quality. Not that you're used to a higher level. Anyways, buckle your seatbelt, open a red bull can (you'll need it), and get ready for

Pulls sunglasses out of nowhere because that is the only thing I can do at this point.

The Bagel Story

(please notice the effort put into the title. I'm too tired to put any effort elsewhere so you can stop here)

Ok, so it all begins in Ukraine (before the war). At the time, I'm kind of free (compared to later. Long story) and spend most of my days exploring the town where I live. It's a nice town. Lots of abandoned buildings. Tom Sawyer-ish vibes, if Tom Sawyer lived in a tough neighborhood from Detroit.

So, this time, I decided to take pictures of one hundred broken windows in a day (little me had weird occupations), and start wandering until it was, what, 4 pm? At some point, I bought bagels. They aren't useful on this story, they're just here for the title.

So I'm kinda lost in an empty street, and the smartest thing I think about is going into the abandoned buildings, hoping to find someone who will help me.

I don't, and spend like an hour looking for someone (who's not drunk/ high/ having more important business than helping a six year old). Noone. I try anyway. At some point, I hear people in a building. Desperate, I enter the building by the window and walk through a corridor, to arrive in a room with actual people. Well, I didn't see, since they were all wearing masks.

And this when shit gets complicated.

To give you a picture of the situation, I've just walked in a room full of masked people who were singing a song in a language I barely know (idk what it was, I assumed it was Ukrainian but don't remember enough to analyze it with my old brain). These people look at me like I was Jesus reincarnated. I look at them like they were all multiverse versions of Jesus wearing wedding dresses.

At this point, there are too many Jesuses in the story and God abandons us.

They point at me and start screaming in Ukrainian (this time, I'm sure it's Ukrainian. But I didn't speak any of it when the story happened so it just sounds like alien metal music for me). I..uh…I smile, yell “no hablo Espanol” with a Hungarian accent and run away. I don't know why.

I mean, I don't know why I yelled in Spanish. Running away was a perfectly calculated decision.

So I'm running. I don't even look to see if they kept singing in their lair, undisturbed, or if there are actually nine masked people in white robes running after me in the streets. I ran to save my life. It's night. I'm still running. I'm tired. I stop. And then, I hear a growl.

I look behind me. Nothing. I look left, then right, nothing. I start walking again, and bam! Sinistros jumpscare.

(For those who are wondering what happened, a giant dog randomly appears in front of me.)

I mobilize all my mental powers and start running. Again. The dog follows me. Did I tell you that I was tired?

Anyways, I run for my guts for the second time in an hour, wahoo. At some point, I throw the bagels at EvilPadfoot 2.0. That doesn't have any effect. I run. I look behind me to see if I have a chance of survival. And pathetically fall in the sewers (Google translate, not sure about the word. Stinky tubes.). At some point, the monster abandons and I miserably find my way home.

That was the last time I got to walk alone outside my house.

Here you go. Is that worth anything? I don't know. But I'm too tired to write another one. Thanks for at least reading it.

[monsterthalia]

It’s Friday Thalia!!!! How about “A quiet sigh as they turn away” from the sensory prompts, for whoever you think fits best?

I swear this came from this prompt, it just... got a little lost. Iron Bull, Krem and Rowan Lavellan are in the Herald's Rest post-Demands of the Qun. Bull decides to give the two some "privacy".

For @dadrunkwriting Rating: T for language Pairing: Krem/F!Lavellan Words: 1203 One of Bull’s favourite tricks was to pretend to pass out. No-one thought twice about it, even though it should have been obvious to a nug that he was far too large for that quantity of alcohol to knock him out. Everyone saw what they wanted to see, and what they wanted to see was the big stupid Qunari being big and stupid. 

Big being the key word there - no-one would try to drag him outside either. So he’d just get to lie there and listen to conversations continue around him.

He didn’t use it often. Only in emergencies. But this was an emergency.

“Is Bull okay?” he heard Rowan say from the table.

“Oh, he’s fine,” Krem replied, and Bull felt a sharp kick in his ribs, like Krem didn’t know he was doing this for his own good. He’d tried every other way of getting Krem some time alone to talk to the Inquisitor, and if he’d found a way that meant he didn’t have to lie on the filthy floor of the Herald’s Rest, he would have taken it. “Just had one too many. Starting to feel it more in his old age.”

The little shit. Catch Bull doing him any more favours.

“It’s been a busy month, I guess,” Rowan was saying, and fuck, but he wanted to be watching her face whilst they talked so he could read her facial cues, instead of just listening so hard from the floor his ears might damn well pop out. “And it’s our first time to stop and breathe since, well -”

She trailed off. “The Storm Coast,” Krem finished for her.

They both sat in gloomy silence, probably reflecting on depressing things like the failed alliance with the Qunari, or how close the day had come to disaster, or anything else besides the fact that they were both young and alive and attractive and were somehow not already screwing on every available surface in the Inquisitor’s suite. 

… Sure, perhaps if Bull wasn’t fake-unconsciously matchmaking from the Herald’s Rest floor, maybe he too would be struggling, but he was, and the least they could do in return was make it work.

“Why did you choose us?” Krem said suddenly.

Bull felt Rowan go tense. He went tense. What? This wasn’t in the script?

“What?” said Rowan.

“Varric told me. You threw away an alliance with the Qunari.” Krem sounded… confused? Damn, he normally had a better read on his lieutenant, but maybe even Krem wasn’t sure what he was feeling. “Why sacrifice a giant navy and all those Ben-Hassrath reports for a bunch of mercs? Why make an enemy like that just for - for, what, me, Skinner, Dalish-”

Ah, Bull was satisfied, he knew where this went. Earnest assurances that he meant more to her than any navy, followed by blushing, stammered confessions, kiss, kiss, and Krem turning up at his door in the morning asking how he-

“Because it felt like a trap,” Rowan said simply.

What?

“A trap,” Krem echoed.

“It felt weird to me. Gatt was too insistent that there was no other way, that it had be you or the dreadnought. He didn’t even try to think of anything else, or suggest we wait and see what happened, or anything. He was far too ready to ask Bull to make that decision between the you or the Qun.” Rowan fell silent, and Bull was itching to jump to his feet and ask her what the fuck. “It felt like a trap. For me. For Bull. And to get rid of you.” 

As she went on, she slipped into a voice Bull was getting to know well - the voice she used when laying out a strategy, when telling her companions how they were going to win. 

“They must have known he was never going to be fully theirs whilst you were around. So - they make an offer the Inquisitor can’t refuse. Inquisitor orders Bull to let his Chargers die rather than lose the alliance. Bull loses the only people he cares about outside the Qun, at the hands of the only other person he might have loyalty towards - deal with two problems neatly, and get Hissrad back under their control.”

Silence. Krem must be as stunned as he was. “You’ve-” Krem’s voice broke a little, and he coughed to clear it, continued. “You really thought of all that in the moment?”

“Er, not so clearly.” Suddenly Rowan didn’t sound like the cool, competent strategist any more, but the slightly awkward young woman she only remembered to be around Krem. “In the moment, it was more that I had, er, a gut feeling. That it was bad. I… figured out the rest later.”

Krem whistled, impressed. “That’s - well - that’s one loud gut.”

If Bull was allowed to facepalm, being unconscious, he would have done. Hundreds of years of lovers and love poetry, and Krem goes with ‘that’s one loud gut’.

But Rowan laughed. Laughed. “I guess so,” she replied.

“Well,” Krem went on, and Bull heard a drink being poured, “Thanks anyway. And here’s to loud guts, I guess?”

“To loud guts,” Rowan repeated, even as Bull fervently wished Stop talking about loud guts - “Besides,” she said suddenly, “You know Bull wouldn’t have let you die?”

A pause, filled with unspoken things. “Dorian said he looked to you for orders,” Krem replied in a level voice, and Bull felt something - something, in his chest, at the doubt underneath it.

“Of course he did, I was his commanding officer,” Rowan was saying. “He’s been raised as a Ben-Hassrath, I can only imagine it’s a reflex like - like covering your head when something’s flying at it. Something goes wrong on the battlefield, look to your commanding officer. But I didn’t give him the order to save you, Krem.” Her voice had turned gentle and - dare he say? - intimate? - was it too much to imagine she’d reached out to hold Krem’s hand? - “I just gave him the freedom to do what he already wanted to do.”

Silence fell, and Iron Bull was just about ready to jump up and flip the table. Were they holding hands?? Were they gazing into each others’ eyes?? Was he overly invested in this as a distraction from his own emotional distress, of course he was, he could deal with that tomorrow?? 

He could just hear Krem saying, “Thank you, Inq- Rowan,” in his own soft, gentle voice, like they were all alone rather than in a busy pub, and if they did not start kissing in the next five seconds-

“Ah! Inquisitor!” Dorian’s voice rang out loudly, and a chair scraped out from under the table, “Mind if I join you? Has Bull had one too many?”

Rowan and Krem snapped back to normality, and were chatting and joking with Dorian in no time, like nothing had happened. And Bull could only lie there, refusing to ruin his ‘pass out’ trick just for the sheer satisfaction of dragging Dorian out of his seat and punching that moustache off his face.

He fully expected the Ben-Hassrath assassins to arrive within the next few days, daggers poisoned with saar-qamek, but the suffering would be nothing compared to this.

[we-arent-married]

Incorrect Quotes: Paldea Edition

Nemona & Juliana in the back of Arven's car: MCDONALDS! MCDONALDS! MCDONALDS!

Penny: We have food at home.

Arven: pulls into the McDonald's drivethrough

Nemona & Juliana: YAYYYYYY!

Arven: orders one black coffee and leaves

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

Juliana: slams books down in front of Arven

Juliana: Boil up some Mountain Dew. It’s gonna be a long night.

Arven: You could of said literally anything else.

Juliana: Cauldron boil and cauldron bubble, Baja Blast to fuel my trouble.

Arven: I’m going to just stop challenging you when you say random shit. I won’t win. I realize this now.

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

Penny: I don’t think the therapist is supposed to say ‘wow’ that many times during their first session with a client, but here we are.

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

Nemona: Penny, you are such a genius!

Penny: Yes, I know

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

Juliana, to Arven: You're starting to forget your Spanish. You don't practice.

Arven: Lo siento. Estoy embrazada

Juliana: You just told me you're pregnant

Nemona: Congratulations Arven, you're glowing!

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

Penny: Croissants: dropped

Ortega: Road: works ahead

Eri: BBQ sauce: on my titties

Mela: Shavacado: fre

Giacomo: Miss Keisha: fuckin dead

Atticus:

Atticus: …I didn’t understand a single word of that and I hate every single one of you.

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

Mela and Penny playing minecraft

Mela: Oh no, oh no, oh no-

Penny: What’s wrong?

Mela: I did a thing.

Penny: You regret the thing you dID-

Mela: screams

Penny: What the fuck did you do- sees mass of aggravated Piglin Damn it-

Mela: screams again

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

Penny: This was almost a great idea.

Ortega: You just described 90 of our stuff.

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

Atticus: For most of human history, vehicles had automatic collision avoidance and could even take you home if you were asleep or drunk. But then we got rid of the horse.

Ortega: You complete moron. you stupid fucking idiot. "Cars would be better if they could bite and shit" - that was you just now dumbass.

Ortega: "Wouldn't it be cool if cars could piss? Wouldn't it be cool if cars could fuck?" fuck off

Giacomo: It would be cool if cars could fuck.

Eri: We... We still have horses

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

Atticus: I need you to come meet me, and I need you to come alone.

Mela: And I need you to be less vague and weird.

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

Brassius: Your smile? It makes my day.

Hassel: Your happiness? I live for that.

Grusha: A room? Get one.

Iono: Hotel? Trivago.

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

Iono: If I were a drink, I'd be Cherry Vanilla Coke. If you were a drink, what would you be?

Larry: Bleach.

Grusha: Sewage.

Iono: …Please calm down, edgelords.

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

Brassius: I love the term 'partners'. Are we dating? Are we robbing a bank? Are we the dedicated detectives who investigate these vicious felonies and are members of an elite squad known as the special victims unit? Who knows.

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

Larry: I’m gonna mix a can of Red Bull with seventeen shots of espresso in a fishbowl and then chug it while Kids by MGMT plays in the background so I can perceive twenty-three spatial dimensions and fight my own soul.

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

Brassius: The only thing I'm guilty of is being adorable… …and also assault with a deadly weapon.

[ratquesadilla]

just tell me you love me, cause that’s all i need to hear (chapter 2)

pairing: rhett abbott x oc

word count: 1438

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42427557/chapters/109124928

girl meets boy, girl falls for boy. boy falls for girl?

chapter 1 - series masterlist - full masterlist

----

the amelia county rodeo was the number one sunday night hangout in wabang, packed with locals and tourists. and tonight it was especially busy, the stakes of the bull riding bringing in outsiders hoping to see their local bull riding star go onto counties. 

it was busy when i got there. like an explosion of spirit had gone off. the lights felt brighter, the cheers sounded louder, the atmosphere was almost enough to mask the smell of shit everywhere. 

the influx of tourists simultaneously calmed my nerves and heightened them. after being here so long i still didn’t feel like a local, every sunday night i showed up here feeling like i had a neon sign above my head letting everyone know that i wasn’t wabang born and raised. but with so many tourists here i could blend into the background, unplug the neon sign and relax for once. 

i spotted rhett on the far end of the area preparing for his ride, even from this far away i knew he was doing his ridiculous concentration face. 

rhett abbott, the boy that was constantly poker faced, looked extremely stupid right before he rode. everytime. without fail. 

he scrunched his brows together, creating a valley of wrinkles above his nose, and squinted his eyes. he looked like he was about to punch through drywall and piss his pants at the same time. 

i asked him why he made that face once and he said he didn’t know. didn’t even realize he was doing it. i told him he looked stupid, and he asked me why i looked so hard. 

i shut up after that. 

——

amy leapt from her seat the second she saw me, flinging herself down the bleachers and bounding towards the east side of the ring.

“hazel!” she shouted, her face glowing like she’d just been hit by a ray of sunlight. 

“what is going on with you?” i questioned, lifting her off the ground and spinning her around. “it hasnt even been 12 hours since we saw each other.”

“i know” she pouted, “but i missed you. dad was busy all afternoon, and grandma and grandpa were being weird.”

i opened my mouth to begin asking amy if she wanted anything from the concessions stand, but was quickly interrupted by the feedback of the loudspeaker. the announcer began with his usual speech, flaunting rhett’s various achievements over the course of his career and bringing up royal’s legacy. he did it every time without fail. that was the big thing about living in a small town like wabang, you weren’t just youself; you carried the weight of your families reputation on your shoulders. 

he continued with his schpiel, eventually faltering to let the bullriding begin.

the loud noise began blaring from the speakers, signaling the start of ride. rhett’s left arm lifted above his head, his hand outstretched like he was trying to reach the moon. he bounced in tandem with the bull, jerking forwards and backwards rhythmically. like the animal beneath him was apart of him. rhett wasn’t controlling the bull, he was existing alongside it. working on the same frequency, almost like he was ballroom dancing. 

and then time stopped. the seconds on the timer slowly increasing, getting higher and higher until rhett was thrown off. tossed to the side like a stuffed toy sliding off a child’s bed. my breath hitched, my throat not letting anything air in. the thud that followed his collision with the ground reverberated throughout the stadium, a collective groan exiting everyones mouths before the music picked up again. amy squeezed my hand, and i tightened my hold around her shoulders; the two of us anxiously awaiting the reveal of his place on the leaderboard. 

second place. rhett was the fucking runner up, milliseconds off of securing his spot in counties. 

“amy.” i said, twirling the girl so she could face me. “let’s go find your uncle and make sure he’s okay.”

“sure thing!” she eagerly exclaimed, before running off towards the gate separating the spectators from the riders. i trailed behind her, speedwalking to make sure i didn’t lose her in the crowd. 

and then i saw her.

maria fucking olivares; giggling with her friends and twirling her hair, glancing over at rhett every couple of seconds. 

it was like i hit a wall, stopped dead in my tracks. amy got farther and farther away, and i stood still. like i was glued to the mud beneath my feet. all of a sudden i felt like i was drowning, being suffocated by the noises of children running around and bodies around me. my neck began heating up, making me want to peel the hoodie that was beginning to feel terribly tight off of my body. 

amy got farther and farther away, until she was completely out of my vision, and anxiety shot through my body for a split second. urging me to run to catch up with her, only faltering when i saw her and her bright pink jacket being lifted into the air. i heard the faint, but distinctive, squeal she omitted whenever you tickled her behind her knees.

i turned on my heel, walking towards my truck instead of towards amy and rhett. something about seeing maria had rubbed me the wrong way, she got under my skin. 

there was nothing wrong with her, don’t get me wrong. it wasn’t like she killed puppies for fun or something. it was her perfect-ness that got to me. how she managed to be completely flawless i had no idea, it was like she was touched by god. her smile could light up a room, and her beauty could turn heads. next to her i was invisible, not just to rhett but to everyone. 

as i stormed towards my car i held my head towards the ground, staring intently at the dirt and gravel i was kicking up; not noticing perry hovering next to the passenger side door. 

“somethings going on with dad.” he said, walking towards me and closing the gap between us.

“yeah no shit sherlock.” i scoffed. “don’t even bother asking me why he’s like this i asked him earlier and he blew me off.”

“christ.” he muttered, pulling at the right front loop of his jeans. “we need to figure this out. we can’t afford getting fucked right now.”

“what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“don’t worry about it.”

“no perry.” i spat out. “i am just as allowed to be worried about this ranch as you are.”

“you want the truth? fine.” he said, leaning in closer. “we are dangerously close to being flat fucking broke.”

pulling away in shock i let out a small gasp. 

“i saw bank statements that royal left out a couple weeks ago, it’s nothing bad we just cant afford to fuck around right now.”

“jesus christ.” i replied, earning an eye roll from the ‘upstanding christian’ standing across from me. “we can deal with this later, go find your brother. you might have been to far into the detective zone to realize that he just fucked his wrist and his chances at counties.”

perry ran off in a tailspin, rushing to check on his baby brother that he secretly cared about. despite how many fights they got in i admired how they managed love each other regardless. even after huge blowout fights where they gave each other black eyes they somehow returned to normal less that 24 hours later. 

i got into my car and drove until the noise from the stadium was a low whisper, letting out a guttural scream as soon as i was sure no one would hear it. the emotion in my voice reverberating throughout the truck. 

fuck. i thought, mentally beating myself up. something good happens to me for once and another million issues pop up? its like a fucking hydra or something, cut one head off and 3 return in it’s place.

i tapped my fingers along the steering wheel in a rythmic fashion for the rest of the drive, finally returning to the ranch after god knows how long. it was always peaceful at night, the only sounds coming from the horses in the barn and bugs in the forest behind the house. on a clear day stars were visible and if you were lucky the moon would rest at the very tip of the mountain, almost as if they were sharing a kiss. sometimes it felt too intimate to watch, alone at least. their embrace felt like something to be seen by lovers, not by a lonely ranch hand.

[preaching-to-the-fire]

Preaching to the Fire (HH Adam x OC)

Chapter 3 - Hellbirth

Masterpost (info, tags, index) | [~2 100 words]

When Adam wakes up, he doesn’t know how long he’s been out. He knows one thing though : he wasn’t naked when he fell asleep.

He sits bolt upright with a jolt and reels as blood rushes back to his head. He presses a palm there and winces: his fingers hit a bump above his forehead. He must’ve taken quite a blow in the head. Lifting a corner of the blanket, he discovers with relief he still has his boxers on, at least. He’d almost find it funny how his first blame, his first shame, is still clinging to him, even now. Eden all over again.

But what he notices most, really, are the large bandages stained with brown spots, taped to his naked chest. For fuck’s sake, he thinks, this is starting to look like the start of a badly-written, thirsty fanfic — and he would know, he’s read all those about him.

He looks around: the same bedroom he was brought in a while ago — hours, days? He can’t tell.

There's a dim light on a night-stand next to him. A lava lamp. Ugh, this place reeks of the 70s. Carpeted floor, red and orange wallpaper walls he can barely see, hidden under layers of posters and shelves crammed full of vinyls. One corner of the room is an outright dumpster, in which he can make out a drumming set, mics, amps, all under years-worth of dust.

He feels weird. Like he’s s ick. But also hungry. No, not hungry, starving . He also feels heavy, so heavy, like he's gained several burgers-worth of weight in his fucking sleep. He gets up.

There are two doors in here. H e walks to open the first one and while doing so notices his wings feel unusually stiff. The door leads to the corridor he remembers from when he first arrived. Actually he can see the lift across the corridor. No hint of anyone's presence, be it the tiny demon he doesn't remember knocking out or the rat-girl who pulled him out of the streets — and into the sewers.

He closes the door and turns around. Fuck, he can't walk a straight line. His wings feel so stiff, it's hard to find his balance this way, not to mention his head feels like it's weighing a ton more than usual. He walks to the other side of the room, where the other door is, and casts a look at the instrumental mess on his way. He notices a few cases that might be guitars'.

The door leads to a bathroom, complete with a bathtub large enough to fit a whole band. But as soon as Adam walks past it, it's before the mirror that he stops.

He probably should be focusing on his many wounds, the fact that he's been all stitched up during his sleep, but to be fair the rest of him is just as alarming, if not more :

His wings. The feathers have blackened, as if burnt, with only golden rims to remind him of their past appearance. He's grown two bulges on each side of his skull that look an awful lot like horns. His ears have grown longer, so much longer and hairier, like that of a bull. His eyes are red. And he realises, the bandages are not just stained brown. They're stained in red blood. His blood.

Despite not responding just moments ago, his wings shiver brutally as he slams his palms on the edge of the sink and lets out a howl. One long crack crosses the mirror.

At the other side of the room, the door bangs open. Valska stands in the door-frame, ready to punch whatever's in sight.

“WHAT’S GOING ON?!”

“WHAT HAPPENED TO ME?!”

Adams stands by the bathroom door, only dressed in boxers, socks and bandages. His black and golden wings rest heavily against each of his shoulders, yet shivering like they want to flap open.

“What the fuck is THIS!" he screams grabbing both his bovine ears. "A--And THIS!!" he continues, now pulling on a wing. "What the-- WHAT THE FUCK!!!"

“Oh, that?”

Valska flattens a clawed hand on her chest, seemingly relieved. "For Freyja's sake, you scared the shit out of me! I thought something was wrong."

She walks up to the bed and puts down a pile of clothes she was holding, while Adam looks at her, horrified.

“Wrong? This isn't wrong enough for you?? What do you call this!!"

The rat demon walks around the bed to face him but keeps their distance, eyeing him, critical.

"Your new hellish form," she says as if it's the most obvious thing in the whole fucking world.

Adam is that close to screaming again. Valska tilts their head and her ears kinda drop.

“Oh maybe I should've brought a cake or something? I haven't celebrated a hellbirth in a while so you must forgive me. Also you killed my chef last night and I can't cook. Man, Pixar are damn liars about rats who can cook."

“Hellbirth-- What the FUCK?” His voice grows dangerously high-pitched. “Why am I like this? How does it stop?"

“Stop?" She tilts her head back up and shakes her head. "It's done already. You can't just stop it. You're a demon now."

Adam lets out a sound that is half a growl and half a laugh. He presses a palm against his forehead and says, low: “I can’t be a demon. I CAN’T be.”

Then he spins around to face them, towering them, having lost all control. Valska takes a step back just in case.

“D’you even KNOW who I am?! WHO made me?” he shouts, not caring about keeping his identity a secret anymore.

Valska brings her hands to her ears, wincing at the noise. “I kno—” But he spins right back around.

“I’m no fucking DEMON. I started mankind! ALL of it! This is all LUCIFER’s fault! That fucking SNAKE and his DUMBASS, rainbow-eating princess—”

“I know—”

“How do I go back to how I was?” he asks spinning back to them.

“… I'm afraid this is quite definitive."

“It CAN’T be.”

Valska snorts. “I can assure you all these years down here have taught me at least this much—”

“You DON’T get it.” His voice is cutting. Helpless, almost. “I am THE man, I was the first human on Earth and first human soul in Heaven, I am on top of everything, the beginning of EVERYTHING, I am--I am—”

His voice cracks.

“But now I'm just..." He glances at the mirror and his scattered reflection: all he sees are red eyes lost in black wings. "I'm hideous."

Valska lets go of her ears and opens her eyes wide in understanding and empathy as she watches the Adam bury his face in his hands. She brings her own before her chest and fidgets before she takes a few steps and rests a claw on his arm.

“Hey. It's alright," they says, their voice soft. Adam looks at her through his fingers. "Most people struggle with their demon form the first few months." She gives him an apologetic smile and shrugs. "But you'll be okay, you'll live. Isn't that the most important?"

Adam doesn't really know what to reply.

“And, hey, if it can help with the dysmorphia…” She hands him the pile of clothes. “Here you go.” On top of the sweatpants and faded t-shirt is--

--his mask.

“Sent my rats to get it.”

And finally it clicks:

“Wait. So you-- you’ve known who I am all along?”

Valska flashes a smile and lifts their chin, obviously proud.

“These rat brains are more developed than what they seem.”

He doesn’t smile. He looks down at the mask then back at them.

“… Why didn’t you kill me?”

She laughs as if she doesn’t quite understand. “You don’t know who I am?” she questions, shaking her head, voice stern, smile threatening him to give her a good answer.

“Uhhh I should?”

Her hair ruffles just a bit.

“Flattering. Nevermind.”

He lifts his mask to his face : half of it, the half Lucifer smashed with a single punch, has been glued back together with yellow glue, but the screen is unresponsive, black and silent instead. The other half is still working.

He looks down at them, wants to say something but they’re already talking:

“I always say, there ain’t nothing a good meal can’t fix.” And they hols a finger up. Then she looks at him. “Should I, uh, order anything for you while you change?”

Adam thinks. He vaguely remembers he’s hungry. He looks down at his mask. Shrugs.

"Alright," she lets out. "Pizza it is then."

She heads for the door and as she's about to cross it, she briefly glances back. The fallen angel seems... unlike himself, to say the least. Her ears drop a little as she realises she has nothing to say to cheer him up. She leaves the room.

Meanwhile, Adam notices small specks of golden blood still stain the rim of his mask. A sick feeling makes his stomach churn.

Outside, walking through the corridors, Valska takes her phone out of one of the pockets of her oversized, black overalls and opens her contacts list. She doesn't have to scroll too long. Not many contacts there.

On the line, her first assistant picks up almost immediately.

“Hi there, Val.”

“Nicolas! Nikulás, my favourite assistant !" they smile, all teeth out in an exaggerated grin. "How's it hanging, luv?"

But Nicolas' voice is stern and definitely not as enthusiastic as theirs.

“Alright what did you do?"

Valska’s smile melts away.

“What! Nikulás, ástin minn, what do you meaaan? I'm just calling to check in on you! Just making sure my favourite person is rocking, as usual!"

“Val. I'm in the middle of supervising a recording session. What. Do you. Want. Or should I ask in Icelandic."

Valska can't keep a grunt from crossing her black-painted lips. She leans against a wall, one arm across her chest and pouts.

“If this is about your guest, we’ve discussed that already. I don't want to have anything to do with it."

“Nooo, it's all fine, he’s fine, everything fine. I don't get why you’re so touchy about this."

“Oh, maybe it’s because when Lilith comes back and she learns of what you're doing, we'll both be in gigantic trouble?"

Now, Valska's face has lost all playfulness. They lift their chin up.

“You worry too much. Besides, Lily isn't here and hasn't been in almost eight years now."

“Look. Peu importe. I don't want to fight over this again. Why are you calling?"

“Could you call the pizza thing for me and have them deliver to the flat?"

She can practically hear him roll his eyes.

“Right away. The usual?"

“Yeah. But! Uh, take another two. No, three. Make 'em complete. Like everything they can put on them."

A sigh.

“Anything else?”

“Could you, err.." starts Valska, ears dropping, tail whipping nervously. "Could you send in another imp? Please? Hæhæ."

“... ANOTHER ONE ?"

“I knoooow but the newbie sorta got, well... uh…"

“What did you do to him this time??!"

Valska's ears tense up and their tail whips the wall. "Nothing! Why would you assume it's me?"

“It's the fourth fucking imp I hire for you in the past two months Valska!"

They wince at their full name.

“Yes well that first imp had it coming.”

“Everyone has different music taste, you stupid rat!"

“She said Karimloo was a better Phantom than Michael Crawford to my fucking face. What was I meant to do??"

On the other end, Nicolas sighs loudly.

“Here's what I'll do. I'll send in another one and if this one doesn't last you at least a full month, you'll have to start hiring your own damn imps yourself."

“You mean call the agency myself and talk to people?" echoes Valska, dumbfounded, offended, hell, outraged even.

“My words exactly."

“Ugh. FINE."

They’re about to hang up on him when--

“How is he?" asks Nicolas, reluctant.

“Who?”

“Wh-- Qu-- The effing leader of the exterminations whom you rescued, who the heck would I be talking about?!"

“Oh. Kinda freaked about his new hellish form. I think."

“Alright," grumbles her first assistant. "Don't drop your guard. If he kills you it's your problem."

And he hangs up on them. Valska looks down at her phone, mouth open in disbelief, teeth growing sharper all of a sudden. "I get to hang up on you, not the other way around, you snail-eating baguette," she mumbles to herself as she walks away.

ástinn minn (is) - my love

peu importe (fr) - whatever

Nicolas (fr) - just don't pronounce the s

Nikulás (is) - nicolaos kinda

[vodka-redbull-daily]

October 22nd, 2023

*Graphic Sexual Content*

Today was the first time it was somebody who was actually trying to do an “allowance” type pay schedule. I guess that means that this guy was more of a true sugar daddy than most of the other guys. I was really looking for a more consistent thing anyway, so I thought this would be something I enjoy. over text, he was making a big deal about how he was such a dominant person looking for a submissive. I put that in a switch in my bio because I hate running into those guys that say they're dominant when really they're just dicks. If you put anything in your bio that even remotely hints that you're not naively submissive, they basically just want to beat your ass and call it BDSM. It's really nasty and especially bad for people who are new and even though I'm still new, I know better than that. thank you way too many video essays about how terrible Fifty Shades of Gray actually was. He said his name was Jason, which would have been like the 5th Jason that had contacted me off that site. It was obviously a fake name and soon enough, he told me his real name was P------.

 Anyway, we agreed to meet at this little bar in A-----. he had told me that he wanted me to show up with no bra and no panties. Honestly, from the beginning it seems like we weren't a good match. He was too demanding and I was too much of an independent spirit, I guess. I'm not saying that to toot my own horn. I'm saying that because I generally don't like being told what to do, especially in a meter condescending way. and that seemed to be his bread and butter. He had an attitude anytime I said anything that wasn't purely submissive “yes sir whatever you say sir” behavior.  a very different  dominant style than  B------- was and one that I didn't like.  He made a really big deal about the  phrasing I was using,  words like “ payment”, “ charge”,  and “ that's fine.”  as if those weren't the words commonly used on the site. but whatever. old men don't change I guess.

 We met at the bar, he made a joke about how short I was, then got me a vodka Red Bull and himself a bloody mary. it was the first time I had seen a real bloody mary, I guess,  because I didn't realize it had fucking bacon in it.  It  had a bunch of other shit too, but the bacon is what really got me.  He went on for some long time about the proper way to make a Bloody Mary and all that. stuff I really couldn't care less about. We talked a little bit about figure skating, we talked a little bit about what I liked in bed. That's how it always goes with these guys. the most basic, organic conversation suddenly interrupted by the most vile sexual questions. I'll be telling him about my journey to do a double axle and he'll come in with “ so do you like it up the ass?”

I was pretty open with him about the fact that I was seeing other people which he seemed mildly annoyed about. He kept saying that he had to be the number one alpha, he was the number one daddy. Whatever man. He said he had to catch a baseball game with his friends, but if I was interested I could come back to his place and he just wouldn't go. I said it was, but then he made this weird thing about how I wasn't into it enough and how I was just going to go home. fair enough I guess.  I really didn't like him that much so I really wasn't bothered by it. I was annoyed that I was out the $300 a week he was promising though. although, when I could see somebody like D-- once and get $400, $300 a week seemed kind of weak, especially since it seemed like he wanted it almost daily.

 He texted me when I was about halfway home, asking if I still wanted to come over. He said he was annoyed with my tone of voice, but I guess he was horny Enough To Try again. I told him I would come over and he gave me a parking lot to park in. he came and picked me up from there, went to an ATM to pull cash, then drove me to his apartment. he asked if I was horny, so I reached up inside my shorts, wetting my fingers and letting him feel.  he asked if it was because of him that I was turned on and I'm not a fucking liar, so just tell him the truth. I'm always wet. I'm always turned on.  Most of the time it's not even anybody or anything in particular. He seemed annoyed with that.  I guess he would have liked it better if I had lied.

 He went on a fairly long rant about how the site was the same as it used to be. how all the girls and they are now common whores asking for too much money. How it was so much easier back in the day when people wouldn't ask for very much money and he didn't have to spend so much on every girl. This was pretty annoying to hear from my perspective. He went into this whole thing about how it was basically supposed to be dating, how you're supposed to be partners with that person and they're just giving you a little bit of cash, but he expects to be treated like a boyfriend. I can tell this is going to go  downhill fast.

 We got to his place, talked a little bit, and met his ugly ass little dog. He did a lot of smoking before we finally went into the bedroom. I had told him while we met at the bar that I really wasn't that into being hit. I don't get why this is such a big deal to people. if I don't want to be hit, I don't want to be hit. There's a million other things in BSDM that you can do.  seems like  he didn't give a shit about that though.  after having me give him the obligatory blowjob for probably about 10 to 15 minutes,  he finally put me on my hands and knees and started to fuck me.  He was incredibly rough with me, slapping me all over incredibly hard even though I had already told him I didn't like that. He also would put all of his weight on my shoulder blade. It was like he was leaning all of his weight forward, but since he was balancing it all on that one hand that was holding my shoulder down, it was incredibly painful. Of course, I came a lot. I always do. I made a mess of the sheets, squirting all over the place. He liked that, but then again most guys do.

 We did that for a little bit and there were a few times where he very roughly moved me into a different position and then kept going. He stopped to have me suck him a few more times before we would go back to having him pound me.  All in all, even though I came a lot and squared all over the place, it really wasn't that enjoyable. it was just pain from the slapping and him tearing at my hair. it didn't feel good. That's why I said I didn't like it. but he didn't really care I guess. I even specifically said how much I hate the idea of being pregnant, but I guess he had a breeding kink because he made a big deal about how he was going to come inside me. he had a vasectomy, so he said, so he refused to wear a condom. he leaned down  and told me all about how he was going to plant his seed in me and breed me.  it was so fucking disgusting.

 After he came,  we laid in the bed and talked for a little bit more. He talked about how much he likes other girls, how much she liked virgins, all that nasty shit. of course, he was very excited by the fact that I was bi. I don't think there's any man that isn't excited about that.  Surprisingly, he also seemed excited that I was having sex with a lot of other guys. I think it was because he thought he was just so much better than everyone else. He specifically wanted me to describe and Vivid detail every time I had sex with someone else, saying that part of his Kink was turning me into a shit.  he also specifically asked for me to have sex with someone, I have them come inside me, then immediately come over to his place. I don't know what he was going to do with that, but this was after I had already told him how much I was afraid of getting pregnant and how much I don't like that kind of shit. Again, I guess he just didn't give a shit about what I wanted and only cared about what I could do for him.

 He ordered us dinner, Chinese food. He made a big deal about how much he liked my bush while we were waiting for it.  I get it.  I get that people don't really know things and just say whatever they want, and that there was no way he could have known. but it just made me squirm.  it made me squirm how he said the exact same thing that my  step dad had said. It only helped compound how uncomfortable I was this whole time. how much I hated being there and how badly I wanted to leave.  we fucked again while we were waiting for the food. It was pretty much the same. He had me suck him, then force my face into the bed  while he beat my ass and fucked me until he came.

 When the food came, we  sat out on the couch and ate.  he may watch that entire stupid baseball game. I thought I would be out of there after we finished eating, but even after the food was gone he wouldn't let me go. I guess he needed to wait until the entire stupid baseball game was  done.  He made a big deal about the score, joking that I was not “doing good enough” and that the team was losing because of me.  haha, funny joke, I guess but it was actually pretty annoying and I really wanted to leave. I tried to do my fake yawning thing, lay down on the couch, cuddled up next to him, trying to signal that I was tired. no matter what I did, it didn't work. what was worse, is that since he's an old man watching the game on cable, we had to sit through so many fucking ads too. I got there at like 2:00 and didn't leave until 11:00.

Even after the game,  he didn't let me leave immediately. He got on the phone with this friend I guess he was supposed to watch the game with. dropped the N word with the hard R which was incredibly surprising and made me want to get out there even faster.  he did say some weird things about the coronavirus being fake earlier, so I probably should have seen this coming. he and his friends celebrated winning the game ( oh yeah, I cared so little about this game I forgot to even mention the fact that we won and he called me his good luck charm because of it)  and we even had to watch some of the after game commentary before he was finally snapped out of his stupid Sports trance. he drove me back to the place where we had parked, finally gave me that stupid money,  and I was finally able to go home. he gave me $200 when he had promised me $300.

 I'm really not looking forward to ever seeing him again. I wonder if there's a way I can get out of it. 

Total Earned: $1,600

Body Count: 8

Dick Pics: 9

Sex Ranking:

Brandon

Him

Tommy

Phillip

Raj

Thomas

Doc

Matt

[thatswhatijustsaid]

I’ve been the best I can be [3]

part two ︱masterlist︱part four 

MCU!Spiderman x Avenger!Reader (platonic)

Eventual tasm!Spiderman x Reader (we’ve gotten into nwh territory, not long to go now)

Gn!reader

Word count: 6.4K

Note: Okay bastards! Here it is, we’re getting into NWH, finally!!! Thank you for sticking with me through this. This one’s extra long, and filled to the brim with actual character interaction y’all. I ended up combining parts 3 and 4, so sorry for the jarring segue in the middle somewhere.

Also! Should I make a taglist? Is that something people want? idk how to do it but I could figure it out

Disclaimer: I am trying to make my fics as all-inclusive as they can be. This fic will not use gendered language in regards to the reader, and I do my utter best to avoid making any other kinds of assumptions as well. If you notice any biased language, please let me know and I’ll edit it and make sure to avoid it in the future (:

Description: When Peter's identity is discovered, you struggle to keep your anxieties at bay while looking after him and his aunt. Also, who are the weird guys in Dr. Strange's basement?

Warnings: Canon typical violence, swearing, mentions of trauma, brief description of a panic attack, self-deprecation

You woke up to your phone vibrating on the coffee table. You untangled yourself from the blanket you had wrapped yourself in and released the pillow you had fallen asleep clutching, pretending not to see the crusted drool on it. You picked up the phone and rasped out, “hello?" Your throat was dry and scratchy and you tried to cover a cough as Peter spoke up at the other end of the line.

"Hey, hey, hey" He sounded jittery. His spidey-metabolism stopped him from going completely feral when he drank too much caffeine, but you still wondered if he had downed twenty Red Bulls and skipped sleep.

You blinked the tiredness out of your eyes, "Hey, what's wrong?"

"We sorta have a problem... Uhm, Have you seen the news at all?"

You stretched out your hand and grabbed the remote, "I have not. What's going on?"

"Quentin- Uh- Mysterio, he sent something to the news before he-he died."

A pit of anxiety was welling up in your stomach, "What did he do?"

"He, uh, told people my real name."

White, hot rage overtook the anxiety. You wanted to kill that asshole again.

"That's not good."

"No, it's no-" Peter's reply was interrupted by some shattering glass and an unintelligible yell. You put the phone on speaker and ran towards your bedroom.

"What the shit was that, Peter?"

"Oh it's nothing, don't worry," You heard him shift the phone away from his mouth and yell something at May.

"Okay, okay. Just, uhh, hold on. I'll be there soon. Don't leave the house." You were rifling through your drawers. Where the hell was the uniform?

"There's so many people, y/n, you'll never get in."

"I'll climb up the fire escape." You'd need your grappling hooks, where the hell were they?

"Are you sure? I'm... I'm fine, I just wanted to ask you to-"

"Don't be ridiculous, Peter, I'm coming over. I'll be there in 30 minutes."

"What? No, please, you don't need to-"

"I'm not arguing about this, I'll see you in 30."

"Wait, y/n!"

You hung up in the middle of his answer.

"Where the fuck is the suit?!"

All of your clothes were on the ground, drawers empty, but nothing there. Was it in the laundry? You hadn't used it in more than a month at this point.

You tore through your house and found it hanging with your coats behind a door.

"Thank fuck," You mumbled, stripping in the middle of the living room and shoving yourself into the dark clothes. It was a pretty simple outfit compared to other superhero suits: just a pair of pants and a jacket made of Stark patented material, designed with carbon nanotubes, reinforced with kevlar over the joints of the pants. The entire back of the jacket was reinforced as well, meant to recreate the feel of a bulletproof vest, only maneuverable. The grappling hooks were on your kitchen table (which you literally never used for eating), unfurled and tangled together. You would have to deal with that in the cab. You tucked a gun into your waistband. You wouldn't take any chances with Peter. If anyone tried to come for him with revenge, they would be dead before they touched him.

You stuffed your feet into boots that had sat in the corner, hidden and gathering dust. The thick soles were designed to dampen falls and protect your ankles during difficult ground combat. You tossed the tangle of ropes and hooks over one shoulder and grabbed your phone from where you had tossed it.

As you made your exit, you caught a flash of yourself in the mirror. A patch on your shoulder, that easily recognizable 'A', sent chills down your spine. You tried pulling on it, but it wouldn't budge. You'd have to pull apart the seams. You huffed. Hopefully, you looked different enough that no one would recognize you and attack you with cameras. Though, you thought to yourself as you slammed your apartment door closed, Spider-man would probably be occupying every reporter's mind right now.

You jumped down the stairs, taking them three, four at a time, shouldered open the front door, and ran into the street. You hailed down the first cab you could see, and directed the driver to the next street from Peter's, and spent the car ride in relative silence, cursing to yourself as you tried to undo the knots on the ropes while trying to stay out of eyesight of the driver.

You were pretty sure that part had failed, as when you exited, the driver yelled over to you, "If you're trying to get to Spider-Man, you're gonna need more than that, there are people all down the block."

You huffed, "Ya, no thanks, I have better things to do than bully a teenager."

The driver didn't seem to believe you, but it didn't matter anyway. You ran off, finding the apartment building behind Peter's. You could hear the crowd from there, people screaming derisions, yelling Peter's name, yelling Spider-man's name.

You started to climb the fire escape. You knew, from experience, that the easiest thing to do was to climb up this building's fire escape and scale down to Peter's window from there. However, Peter's window faced towards the street where the very angry mob was, so you would have more luck getting onto their fire escape and climbing through the window there, which was in May's bedroom.

One problem with your plan, you realized once you reached the top, the jump over to the fire escape was way too wide. You wouldn't make it. You would have to throw the hook and swing yourself over. You located their window. Your choices were: swing into the wall, swing into the metal railing on the fire escape, or swing into the window.

You dialed Peter's number. If he opened the window, and you aimed your legs just right, you should be able to squeeze in without breaking anything.

Peter picked up, "Hey!"

"Hey. I need you to open the window facing the fire escape and then get out of the way."

"You know I could just swing out there and get you."

"Very bad idea. Stick to my plan. Get to it please, this crowd makes me nervous."

You heard him grumble something before hanging up. You knew he'd do what you asked of him, no matter his opinions on the matter. You tossed the grappling hook, securing it on the top bar of the building. You tugged hard, it stayed in its place. You wrapped the rope securely around your hand, cursing at yourself for not having remembered gloves. This would give you such bad rope burn. You felt like an amateur.

You watched the window open, saw Peter stick his head out, looking for you. It took him a moment, then he waved and climbed out of the window.

You stood on the ledge, looped the rope around your leg, and swung.

You were rather used to being airborne, considering you did not have wings or webs or spinning hammers. After Peter had told you and Ned the truth, he loved knocking on your window, letting you wrap your arms around his neck, swinging you up to some high building, and chatting for ages. You would dish gossip on the Avengers, Peter would tell you about Liz or the latest bad guy he'd caught, or what he and Ned had been building that day.

The feeling of weightlessness, being so intimately aware of gravity, and yet unaffected for just an instance.

Your rope swinging wasn't quite as suave as Spider-Man's web-swinging, but the moment you dropped off and felt the momentary weightlessness just before physics caught up to you, you were exhilarated.

You felt it again, when you let go of the rope, pushed your legs out towards the open window, and tumbled onto May's bed, but it wasn't quite as majestic the second time.

From outside, you heard Peter call, "I'll get the rope!" and the clang of him running up to the top of the building. You let yourself rest in May's soft sheets for a moment, waiting for Peter to return. He did, at a supernatural speed that told you he had definitely used his web-shooter to get down. You wanted to berate him for doing it without his mask on, but then remembered it didn't matter anymore.

Your stomach dropped again, but in a bad way. You sat up.

Peter clambered into the window, a mildly sheepish grin on his face, "Here-ah- your rope." He held it out to you, but you pushed it aside and brought him into a tight hug instead. You would consider it bone-crushing, but Peter could handle what would break normal bones. He did complain, in half-jest, about you crushing him, but you didn't listen, pulling him closer instead. He was happy to accept the hug, despite the jokes, and you could feel the tension leave his body as he finally melted into you.

This was bad. This was an exceptionally bad situation, and he had already been so stressed by the Mysterio thing. You wished that you could crush the anxiety out of him, or absorb it into yourself by being so close to him for so long, but you knew that wouldn't happen. You could only bring him comfort and hope that the situation could be solved soon enough.

Once you finally pulled away, you saw the stress in Peter's face, in his eyes.

You would fix this. You needed to fix this.

"I'm going to shut the window. Where's May?" You asked, prying your hands away from him hesitantly.

"She's in the kitchen," You pretended not to notice the shake in his voice, and he pretended not to be on the verge of a mental breakdown. You two were the perfect team of emotion mismanagement and always had been. You shut the window and locked it for good measure. Then pulled down the blinds. The public was vicious, even knowing that Peter was a kid.

Maybe Tony should have let them nuke New York.

Wait, no, you realized, that's stupid. Peter would have died too.

You rubbed tiredly at your face. You needed caffeine. Or a nap.

You came into the kitchen and sat down at the table with May and Peter. May smiled at you, her eyes glassy and unfocused behind her glasses. Peter was still a kid. This would fall on her, and she had little in the way of help to offer Peter, beyond support. You couldn't imagine her state of mind, the focus it must take to put on a brave face with all of this going on.

"Okay. Fill me in," You said, slapping your palm on the table.

They did. You sat and listened, stone-faced. You remembered how Steve had been whenever he accepted bad news or bad orders. Complete stillness, eyes full of understanding. Emotions were in the way when you had people to save, and when you had others– an entire team– to think about, it was not the time to stress people out with your own feelings. It was time to be strong.

And you did. You listened and nodded, and when everything was explained, you gathered your thoughts with a deep inhale (like Steve had done) and started talking.

"First things first. We get you the fuck out of this apartment. I'd offer you mine, but it's a mess, and it's about as vulnerable as this one," You directed your attention at May, "I know you and Happy... hit a speed bump," May had been confiding in you about her feelings on her relationship, and her plan to break up with Happy, "But I've seen his apartment. It's a lot safer, it's far away, you would be safe. Backup plan, I send you to the compound."

"Y/n, I can't go upstate," Peter interrupted, his voice rising and May followed up with, "That does seem like a long commute. I can't leave my job."

You nodded, making sure your tone expressed understanding and concern, "I get that, which is why we start with Happy. But," You turned to Peter now, "You know how vile New York is. You're fighting them every day. Imagine one of them manages to scale the building. That cannot happen."

You watched the flight deflate out of him as he reached for May's hand. She gripped it tightly back.

"Yeah. Second, how's your lawyer situation? I'm sure the entire country is on the police's ass, if not the FBI's, or the DODCs"

"What, you think they're going to arrest us?" Peter said, and you saw May's grip tighten on his hand. He was just a kid.

"I mean, half of the city thinks you're a murderer, Peter. Mysterio destroyed monuments and blamed it on you. Not just New York is after you, half of Europe is too!"

Your imitation of the captain had dropped there, as you saw Peter's eyes dim. Shit. You forced on a more relaxed tone, "But that's okay. We get you a good lawyer, we get you a safe place to be. I'll call some contacts. It will all be okay, we just need to stay on top of it." Peter and May nodded in sync.

You stood up, "Now, I'm sure you're far too stressed out to have had time for lunch. How about I find you something, preferably something in the freezer that can be thrown in the microwave, and we take it easy, just for a moment, yeah?" You walked over to the freezer.

May nodded and stood up, you watched as she, just like you had, steeled herself up and brought a smile to her face.

"Y/n is right," She placed her hand on Peter's head and tousled his hair a bit, "You haven't eaten since before you left for your date."

Rummaging through the freezer, you pulled out a box of microwavable mac and cheese. Perfect.

"You went on a date? With MJ?" You asked, hoping to distract him just a little. You tore open the box and threw the contents into the microwave.

Peter saw through your ruse but seemed to be too dejected to call you out on it. He forced on a smile.

"Yeah. I took her swinging."

You laughed, "Yeah? She enjoy it as much as me?"

"Actually she hated it," Peter's smile seemed to get a little bit more real. "She screamed in my ear the whole time."

You were quick to pull out cutlery and a bowl, as well as a water bottle, which you threw at Peter. He caught it without looking, obviously, and moved over to the couch at your insistence. As soon as the microwave peeped you pulled the food out and split it into two bowls, making sure to give Peter the bigger one.

"You know.." You told him, stepping over to the couch, "I'm sure you've watched all the shows that came out while you were gone," while you were deadblippeddusted, "But I still haven't seen the Mandalorian." That got a reaction out of Peter, one loud enough and genuine enough to make you laugh too. He was okay. He would be okay. You would fix it.

Peter was quick to turn on the TV and start searching, and you used the moment to step over to May, who was standing in the kitchen, looking at her phone with a worried crease on her face. You stepped over and put a hand on her back.

"Let it wait ten minutes," you said quietly. Peter could obviously hear you if he wanted to, but you banked on him being too occupied, and too good to spy on a private conversation, "Have some bad pasta, have some water. Call Happy, call your- wait, you do have a lawyer, right?"

She put her phone down and looked up at you, she put on a smile again.

"Yeah, I know someone. I'll find his number," She turned down again, but you snatched the phone out of her hands, "eat first, May. Please."

You watched her think it over. You saw that she was very much considering attacking a trained Avenger to try and get her phone back, but she gave up, reaching over for the bowl and giving you a small smile and a quiet 'thank you'. When you reached the couch, Peter was staring up at you, his expression indiscernible. You tried not to think about what it could mean, and grinned at him instead.

"C'mon, show me that baby Yoda. One episode and then we let life go back to being complicated, okay?"

You watched his brows furrow, but then he forced the expression off. Was he trying to look brave for you?

"Yeah, okay."

You let Peter rest his head on your shoulder, and wrapped an arm around him. You let half your attention rest on the show, it was pretty cool looking, but kept your ears perked for noises, or stones thrown through windows, people with grappling hooks– other people than you, obviously– and whatever else might come through the windows. You felt Peter under your hand, you knew he was just as tense as you. You wished he could relax properly, but you knew his tingle must be going crazy, or maybe his anxiety caused it to shut off entirely.

After the episode was done, May sat down on the couch next to you.

"I've talked to Matt, the lawyer I know, and he's on standby, in case something happens. I couldn't reach Happy, but I'm sure he'll call me back the second he can." She put her hand on your cheek, her smile was stressed, but in it you found comfort.

Peter was so lucky to have May, she was such a good mom. You resisted– but only barely– leaning your face into her hand, and accepting the comfort. She wasn't so much older than you now, but she knew you when you were fourteen, she watched you grow up beside Peter. You had sought comfort in her during heartbreak, during general strange teenagery stuff, you had even asked her advice when you were offered a spot on the Avengers.

"I think you need to go home and get some rest. You've done what you can for us. Come back tomorrow, help us move out of the apartment, I know you want to help. But get some rest, and get some food in you." She moved her hand from your cheek to your forehead. "You've lost a bit of color in your face."

You considered her request. Peter could catch any stone that came through his window without even looking. If the crowd got violent, which did seem rather unlikely, considering they hadn't done anything yet, Peter was perfectly capable of defending them from one or two maniacs, and you knew that May kept a gun under her bed. They'd be okay. You fought your urge to protest, to sit down and say you'd stay on the couch. Peter could protect them better than you could if you were ambushed. He could swing May over to your place, and you could protect them from there. One more night. They could handle themselves.

Apparently, they were not able to handle themselves. Three hours later, just as you were tugging your own frozen meal out of the freezer, Happy called you. They were in jail. The fucking DODC had gotten to them first.

Your immediate reaction was guilt, then anger, at yourself.

How could you be so stupid?

You shoved your feelings down and hoped they would resurface at a more convenient time.

You considered marching down to them and springing them out, you thought about wringing the throats of whoever was holding them. Unfortunately, you knew that was not the way of the American justice system, and you knew the only way to at least metaphorically wring their throats was to have someone more qualified than you to do it.

"Do they have their lawyer?"

"Yeah, uh, some guy named Matt, right?"

"I think that's what May said. Is he coming?"

"He's working on getting them out. Said he wanted all of us for a meeting first thing tomorrow morning."

"Okay." This was okay. This wasn't a surprise, you weren't surprised. You were just a bit.. caught off guard. Those are the same thing. You had just expected a bit more time. But this was okay. It was okay.

You could very much feel that you were not okay, as your thoughts began to spiral out of control. You forced yourself to keep it together for another breath.

"Okay. That's great. Thanks, Happy. Text me once they're back home, okay? And get them out of that apartment tomorrow."

"Yeah. I will."

You hung up. You felt your heart clench, and your breath catch in your throat. You sink to the ground.

Thiswasokaythiswasokaythiswasokayyou'reafuckingfailurethiswasokaythiswasokay.

You felt a sob claw its way out of your throat, and you felt your eyes start to burn. This was not a more convenient time.

You balled up your hands and shut your eyes, trying to force yourself into deeper breaths. You thought back to what Natasha taught you.

"You do not have time for stress when you are in danger. Your instincts will kick in, but you need to be stronger. You need to be better. Get yourself out of harm's way, get your mission done, then you can let yourself feel."

Her words held no incredible comfort, but they were not words of comfort, they were orders, and you would follow them. You opened your eyes, and straightened your spine, making sure you weren't restricting your lungs, and then you breathed. And again. And again. And again, until eventually, they eased up, and you could feel cool air tickle the back of your throat. A few tears, that you hadn't been able to stop, dripping off your chin, and you rubbed at your cheek to rid yourself of the wet streaks. There was a time, in the distant future, when you would let yourself feel all of this, but Peter would be safe there. Peter needed to be safe.

You really weren't sure how you got undressed and into bed, and you definitely didn't know how you managed to fall asleep, but somehow you did.

Waking up the next morning, you felt an eerie calm over you, a distance between you and your problems. You saw a text from Happy, sent at 3 in the morning, saying everyone was back home.

There you go. Peter was safe again, presumably talking to the lawyer. You sent him a text. You didn't apologize, because you knew it would only stress Peter out, but imsorryimsorryimsorry was on repeat in your head anyway as you wrote up the text.

The coolest Avenger:

Hey, Pete. Let me know what the lawyer guy says. You guys get settled in Happy's place, I'll bring over some food and stuff later.

Peter was quick to respond. You had woken up just before noon, and the meeting with the lawyer was long over. They were already carrying boxes up to Happy's bachelor pad. Peter sent you a picture of the security system. The Stark logo in the corner calmed you down. They were safe.

Later that day, you came by with food, and flowers for May, and Legos for Peter. An apology, though you called it a housewarming present. You let Peter show you around, see where a spare mattress in a corner in the loft had been turned into a bedroom for him. He even, in a whisper, told you about the fabricator in Happy's storage room and made you promise not to tell May.

They were safe. Peter was happy.

MJ came by a few hours later, she and Peter quickly vanished up to Peter's room. She looked a little frazzled, but she was strong, you knew she would stick by Peter and would do just fine. You excused yourself just a little while later, pulling Peter into a hug, then May. You saw the way she looked at you, like you were a kid, like you were the same as Peter. You were 23 now, but that was still so young to someone older. You didn't want her to worry over you, she had enough to think about. You could step back for a while.

That while turned into a few weeks, then a few months.

You kept a close eye on Peter, obviously, but eventually, the crowds lessened, stopped hounding him, MJ and Ned on the way to school. People stopped throwing things at him, people stopped scrutinizing him and May as they had been. Come November, he was stressing out about college applications, and that was it.

It was a pretty standard morning, you were sitting on your couch, fully suited up, struggling to recalibrate your binoculars after dropping them off the rooftop (you had been pulling a double all-nighter, and the nesting pigeons had started looking a lot like government drones). Your phone pinged beside you, three notifications in quick succession.

🕷️boy:

MIT!!! It's here

🕷️boy:

image attached

🕷️boy:

Meeting MJ and Ned, we're opening them together!!!!

You shot him back a message.

The coolest Avenger:

Not a chance in hell that isn't a yes. Call me when you've opened it!

The phone stayed silent after that, and you half forgot about it after discovering a broken piece in the binoculars that you desperately needed to find a replacement for.

It wasn't until mid-afternoon, when an orange portal opened right in front of your TV, and Doctor Strange, looking very, very annoyed, stepped out.

"I have a front door, you know." You mumbled, a screwdriver in your hands as you tried to get the fucking binoculars to work again.

"And I have a very low tolerance for bratty teenagers. Let's go."

Before you could object, Dr. Strange pulled the portal over you, and you landed with an 'oof' on the floor in a dark room. You had been to the Sanctum once or twice before, on Avengers business, but this was not a part of it that you had visited.

"There you go. The hero is here. Now fix it, Parker." You watched, your eyes still adjusting to the darkness, as Strange stepped up some stairs in the corner, leaving you, still on the ground, screwdriver in hand, to stare up at Peter, who had come over to you.

"Uhh. Hi." He said, extending his hand for you to take, "I need your help."

Peter gave you a summary of the events so far. You, of course, had already known about the multiverse, due to the time travel shenanigans you had taken part in to try and get back those who had been dusted.

“See you in a minute.”

No. Not now.

He introduced you to the villains already captured. A humanoid lizard creature who stared at you unblinkingly when you approached, and a man with robot octopus arms. Stripes of red and gold ran down the sides of his tentacle things.

"Did he just copy your color scheme or did he get some of your nanobots?"

"He ripped my suit apart. And then he tried to stab me. But it's okay!" Peter was quick to intervene at the sight of your face. You had turned to face the man, and your hand had gone towards the blade that sat in a sheath on the inside of your thigh. Magic shield or not, you felt a very strong urge to rip the tentacle legs off him and let him taste some metal.

Peter stopped you, grabbing your arm, and saying quickly, "I'm totally fine. See?" He motioned at himself, his very much intact and non-bleeding body, "The nanobots got control of the arms, and now he can't do anything."

The octopus man growled behind you, "Do not talk about me like I'm not here, I can hear you."

"Yeah, okay," You replied, sarcasm and pure venom dripping from your tone, "The attempted murderer wants respect." You bowed dramatically, with as much sass as you could fit in the gesture.

"I'm so sorry for disrespecting you, mister octopus man."

"It's doctor Octopus," He ignored your snicker, "and I-" He was interrupted by the sound of the doors of the sanctum shutting. A loud thud sounded from outside.

"That must be MJ and Ned!" Peter ran toward the stairs, "You're fine, they can't get out of the magic jail."

You spun around to face the man, the doctor, who was glaring at you and simultaneously trying to fight the stationary octopus legs that were attached to him.

He seemed to abandon his fighting attempts and gave his full attention to you.

"I wasn't trying to kill the kid, I wanted information, I wanted to find my machine. The magician–"

"Sorcerer." You corrected.

He gave you a look of utter contempt, "The sorcerer said something about the multiverse. You called that kid Peter, he was wearing a Spiderman suit. I- I’m lost here! Can you really blame me for a little bit of violence?"

"Yes, I can." You stepped up to him, unsheathing your knife, "And trust me, if you touch him again I'll rip those arms off you and tear out your spine."

That got him to raise his eyebrows, "Spiderman's got a babysitter? I thought you were just another Mary Jane."

This time you raised your eyebrows, "Who the hell is Mary Jane?"

He didn't get a chance to respond, as Ned and MJ stepped into the basement.

"This is so cool! Oh, hey y/n!" Ned's voice ran out through the dark dungeon, and you watched him step over to a messy table and pick up some kind of weapon. While Peter was distracted, following MJ into another corner of the room, you sheathed your blade and stepped over to Ned. He was holding a crossbow, pretending to aim it at the wall.

"Be careful with that, Ned." Oh, gods, when did you become the boring adult. You hadn't even been the mom friend of the group! "Maybe it shoots invisible arrows or something." Ned turned the crossbow's barrel down towards the floor and hesitantly reached his fingers out to touch the groove where an arrow would be.

"Okay guys," Peter said suddenly, coming to stand by you and Ned. "Everyone knows what's going on. I need to catch these guys and bring them here. Ned and MJ, I need you to stay here and look for more of them."

Ned pumped his fist and whispered, 'guy in the chair' to himself.

"Y/n," he turned to look at you, "can you cover me?"

You nodded quickly. Peter really thought you would have let him do this alone? Fat fucking chance. "Of course, of course. You know where they are?"

"Well, I saw a green... gremlin guy or something where I fought octopus man."

"Doctor." You and said octopus man said at the same time.

Peter stared at you, then him, then said, "Doctor... Octopus man."

The doctor sighed, then rolled his eyes in a melodramatic fashion. "My name is Doctor Otto Octavius."

All four of you giggled at that, and Peter asked him what his real name was. Ned was already exclaiming about the other captured bad guy though, and you figured it was time to get to work. These guys would be back to their own world, hopefully by tomorrow, there was no need to get chummy.

Ned and MJ started scouring the internet for clues and you and Peter talked strategy while he tried to get a bright green stain out of his suit.

"So this guy I saw, he was flying on like a hoverboard or something, and he had some sort of bombs on him. He blew up half the bridge."

You nodded, "Should be easy enough to get rid of his advantage. If he gets close enough I could throw something into his board and you could web him up."

"Sounds good– Hey, can you call May? This stain is just not coming out."

After a long phone call where May tried to get Peter to ask Strange for some baking soda ("No, May, he's already so annoyed at me"), Ned eventually found something just outside of the city. Peter eventually decided on turning his suit inside out.

While you did trust Strange to be adept at his magic, you didn't quite trust him not to try and kill you out of annoyance, so you threw a mug at the Octopus Doctor. It hit a forcefield, which rippled out in waves of blue, and a strange, deep tone reverberated off it, drowning out the Doctor's offended yells.

Watching the way the magic forcefield rippled, your mind was cast back a few months. It seemed eerily similar to the strange green ripple by the Qeng Tower. Could that guy have been magic? Maybe that's how he could sense you. You shook the thoughts away. That was for a later time.

"You ready?" Peter called, dressed up in his suit, with his phone duck taped to his chest. That would end well.

You zipped up your jacket and did a mental check of your weaponry.

"Yeah."

You guys climbed to the roof of the sanctum, Ned and MJ staying with you through a video call on Peter's phone. You wrapped your arms tightly around Peter's neck, and he tucked one arm around your torso. As Peter had gotten a better understanding of his powers, he got good at honing in his strength. But, as he held you, you could feel the power, the strength his arm held. You were fairly sure you could let go of his neck and he wouldn't drop you.

"Okay guys, where is he?"

Without warning, he slung out a web and jumped, Ned, relaying directions that you could only just make out over the air rushing past your ears. Peter paused on a ledge on the Empire State building.

"Sorry, y/n, it's just, this is a pretty long swing and I don't have a good enough grip on you. We should try something else."

You nodded, ignoring the churning in your stomach. You trusted Peter, of course, but he was very used to swinging alone, and the dizzying heights had started to get to you.

You plopped down on the ledge, staring out over the city, trying to ground yourself. Your eyes wandered onto the Avengers Tower, and you could have sworn you made out the same strange green veil covering the sides of it. You shook it off, and turned to look at Peter. "Yeah. Sure. What's a better position?"

“Maybe if you like," Peter demonstrated a few different things, which you tried, and eventually settled on you wrapping both your legs around him, keeping your arms below his shoulders and just holding on for dear life.

You were very thankful when you reached the forested area you were supposed to find the guy in.

"You okay?" Peter asked as he let you go.

"Yeah. Yeah. Totally good." You answered, shaking your head around, trying to get some feeling back into your ears, which had gone numb from the wind a few minutes in. "Let's get this going."

It only took a few moments before he appeared. A floating dude in the sky, who seemed to be feeding on the electricity towers.

"Uh. Peter," You watched him charge up the portal gun thing on his arm, "You said the guy was green, right?"

"This isn't him, y/n you have to get in the woods."

"Peter I'm not leaving–"

Peter shot, a long string of orange magic flying towards, and then directly through the blue man and hitting a tree instead. Several things happened, almost instantaneously. The blue guy seemed to come to life, pure energy turning his body into a more human-ish silhouette. Peter shot a web at you, grabbing you by the hip, and then tossed you into a bush several feet away, just before the blue guy sent a lightning bolt of energy towards Peter. You watched him dodge and weave, eventually swinging from trees and going further into the woods. Panic rose in your chest when Peter swung out of view, only zaps of electricity and cracks of broken trees giving you an idea of where the fight was. You felt your breaths go shallow, and your eyes began to burn, this was so far out of your league, you couldn't help him, you couldn't keep him safe–

Your spiraling was interrupted by a noise at your side, and you turned to see a man made of sand appear from the ground. You squeaked and struggled to get yourself out of the brushes. It was another one. Peter couldn't take on two on his own.

"You work with Spiderman?" The sand-man asked, and, when you nodded, you felt the bush fall out from under you. "You should get outta here, it's not safe. I'll help him."

You watched in utter confusion as the man disintegrated, and a cloud of sand shot away through the woods. This was so far above your pay grade.

You weren't leaving though, and you took off after the sand cloud, and watched as he smothered the blue guy and Peter pulled apart the electricity towers. The blue guy turned into a very naked black guy, and Peter threw some clothes at him before shooting him again with the teleportation gun. That upset the sandman, so Peter zapped him too.

"Peter!" You called, bursting out of the bushes, "What in the absolute fuck was that?!"

"I have no clue. I think–" He was cut off by a loud, low screeching, as one of the cables on the towers snapped, falling down into the woods and taking some trees down with it.

Peter put a hand on your shoulder, "Listen. I don't like the look of those guys. I'm sending you back, so you can make sure Ned and MJ are safe. I'll swing back once I fix the towers."

He took a step back and loaded the portal gun, then pointed it at you, "Wait, Peter no–"

The second the orange string of magic touched you, you felt all the air around you rush at you, and then you landed with a thump in the sanctum, in one of the jail cells.

"Y/n?" Ned called from the middle of the room, where he and MJ seemed to have been studying the new guests.

You let out a wail of frustration and smacked the invisible magic barrier, "Get me out of here!"

Part four's out!

Note: Sorry about any bad editing or spelling mistakes. I edited the whole thing and then Tumblr decided to just. Delete it. So that's fun! It's not 2:30 in the morning. Anyway! We're getting somewhere now!! I hope this wasn't too tedious, the next parts will deviate intensely from canon, so I wanted to try and at least make it clear that this is nwh haha.

Thanks for reading!

[i-need-air]

"Dude" — Bakugou Katsuki x Reader.

Summary: Your former bully, Midori, has confessed her undying love for one of the most famous guys at U.A.; you're just venting gossiping about it with Mei, not knowing Bakugou Katsuki is right around the corner, listening;

Warnings: None. Well, Bakugou Katsuki having various anger induced strokes > the normal > no warnings; light crackfic? subtle ending;

Word count: 4.5k;

[ Part 2 ];

"She confessed to him." You grinned, throwing a bunch of fries into your mouth like the absolute animal you were.

Mei on the other hand continued her work on whatever in the world her new prototype, or "baby", was. Still, you had the honor of having half of her attention, which was a compliment to say at least.

She just smiled, shaking her head, leading you to continue, not knowing a blond was quite literally behind the corner, just outside the door leading to the support department, frown on his face.

"She came to class giggling like an idiot saying she's got a plan." You made a face into the distance, remembering your classmate's obnoxious squeal. "Ugh, she started telling the Divas how she's gonna have The Bakugou Katsuki in the bag." An ugly snort left your body, which earned an amused chuckle from Mei.

Both of you were pretty well known to be very good friends, and as much as you hated to admit it, you were both quite the social pariahs too. She was a little bit strange or weird, as some called her, but not for a single second she cared, which was the reason you admired the girl so much in the first place. Meanwhile you've taken the role of the bitch of the whole school by far. Sadly, you were placed in the same class as your archenemy, only increasing your chances of being called said endearing term.

Middle-school was a nightmare to say at least, getting bullied for your looks, the way you spoke or dressed, anything really as long as you were the one being mocked. And who was the one doing the bullying? Midori. Stunning, graceful, baby-faced Midori. Petite yet elegant, a devil in disguise. Whoever crossed her path suffered her malice unless she had something to gain from them.

And now, sweet Midori was in the U.A.'s General Studies, coinciding with you in the majority but not all classes. It had to do with the tragedy that your quirk was so rare that the principal Nezu had to adjust a new schedule just for you. Just kidding, it was amazing. The actual tragedy was seeing her face every day.

Back to your heartbreaking backstory and origin; time made you tough, comments made you build a wall so tall and thick nobody could crumble it. Backstab after backstab made you learn that not everyone has good intentions, but in your loneliness you found Hatsume Mei. So honest and dedicated, so raw and passionate. A good person. The type of person your parents promised you'd someway cross paths with and gain such a strong friendship that nothing could tear it apart.

Becoming friends with her was easy, kinda. It took snapping back at Midori when she started her normal bullying routine on Mei, which ignored it without a care. You stepped in and the rest is history. It did feel good though, calling her a pathetic bitch before turning to the stranger with a cool gadget in her hands to compliment it. And, since she's a sucker for her babies, you had to deal with an hour of sparkly eyes and monologues about her plans and prototypes.

Funny girl, Mei. You remember thinking but the following day you passed by her usual spot to fill your curiosity, asking if she did solve the problem she was complaining about.

"He was the one she was planning to ask out?" She screamed at you, head inside a giant metal gauntlet and the reason you two started talking about said man in particular. News were extra-fresh anyway.

"Oh, yeah!" You shook your head, ashamed to exist in the same general proximity as a person like your former bully. "He's gonna be so rich and famous!" A high pitched squeal left your mouth as you tried to copy her voice. "Poor fucking guy, if only he knew."

"But people know she's a bitch!" She screamed again, repairing or adjusting something with almost all of her body inside the gauntlet. A smile, genuine and soft this time, formed on your face. The pink-haired girl wasn't one to talk bad about others or even care, but it was clear she wasn't particularly fond with Midori either, although the conversation was more for you to vent rather than gossip. Sure it was.

"Like the people from the Hero Department even care about us, the commoners." With a roll of the eyes, you followed. "If he's smart, he'll run away. If he's an asshole, he could use her too."

"What do you mean?" Pink flocks of hair suddently submerged from the gadget, eyes curious zooming on you. That probably got more than 50% of her attention and it was a new personal goal while she was at the workshop.

With shrugged shoulders, your answer came nonchalant. "He could date her and dump her like she's nothing. Would serve her right for all the shit she's talking about him." But the only response you got was a short quizzical look, followed by your exagerated sigh. "She's talking shit about him constantly, but then says he's hot and that his personality doesn't matter anyway. Money, fame, looks. She has a whole fucking life-plan! Then calls him a rabid dog!"

"Woah—" that surprised her.

"Woah indeed! Insane. It's insane. I don't know the guy but no one deserves that shit." When you got no response, you continued your speech, munching in the food with passionate hunger, words coming out almost indistinguishable. "Doubt he'd play her though. He looks like a smart guy. I've seen the Sports Festival—" you picked up your burger, giving it heart eyes. "—and I've seen the news. He's probably a good guy too, the issue is people don't see that and... Well, I understand what's it to be judged... Not many have what it takes to be a real hero but he does. Hope he finds happiness in life." Much talk for someone that doesn't know shit about the guy in particular, but even so faint, your gut instinct was trained well enough to spot malice and he lacked that. "And a therapist." And there's the little shit in you that had to drop a cheeky comment.

Mei's gaze turned downwards and even if you could see her brain do mental gymnastics to solve whatever problem she had in front of her super-eyes, she also contemplated your words with great care.

"He comes here from time to time—" she grins, smacking the grenade looking gauntlet with her weird utensil. "I noticed you two are similar." Your face twisted, eyes wide towards the girl.

Similar how? He was loud, bold with a foul mouth, definitely needed a therapist for those unresolved anger issues... But he was also bright as in whenever he went, people looked in his direction, like he shined; obviously strong, also from what you've heard smart, popular, lucky to be surrounded by kind people. Example being that very nice pink girl that had a joyous conversation with you the very first day of school and, much to your surprise, continued greeting and having sweet small talks with you every single time you saw each other. Or the blond haired guy that showed off a little bit too much and made dumb flirty comments with no bad intentions, the same blond that waved at you with enthusiasm when you'd cross paths. There was the red-head, Kirishima, that was an absolute gentleman, opening doors for you even if you had two functioning hands and smiled so bright it made your corneas burn, or also the dark haired guy, Sero, that you've seen helping literally anyone in need around the school campus with an easy going attitude and gentle grins. Bakugou Katsuki was surrounded by good people, good heroes just as amazing as him and if they liked him, he must've definitely had some good in him, right? Another point appeared in your mental presentation about the brash hero in the making was that he was way too attractive but the wise burried deep inside of you made that particular point dissappear. No need to think about that. Overall you weren't even remotely similar. Not even close. Two completely different human beings from two completely different worlds that would never collide. With that being said, there was the small chance that Mei hinted for you to get a therapist too, who knows.

"How even—"

"I mean!" She screwed something in place. "I mean in your— determination?"

"I wouldn't know that." You muttered.

"He screams I'm gonna be the best every time he's here—"

"Cute..." You vomit that endearment without thinking, but thankfully it got ignored.

"—and it always reminds me of you." A small chuckle left your mouth.

"Don't make fun of me."

"You say it too~"

"I just heal, Mei, it's not the same." Principal Nezu's speech, the speech he gave your parents months into the first year as they found themselves aware of your power made you hold your words. You had it in you. The potential. If incredible people like your teachers, like Shuzenji Chiyo or Principal Nezu twisted things around for your quirk, for how rare and powerful it is, you'd accept it.

"But you're gonna be the best healer ever, aren't you?" She taunted.

"Of course. Which reminds me—!"

"Hmm?" Her attention faded away slightly, but it wasn't a problem.

She cheered, both at you and at her finished masterpiece and proceeded to eat too, passing through the lunch hour without interruption.

"Recovery Girl is putting me on active duty at the infirmary from now on. Finally!"

Innocent pale purple eyes stared into deep crimson ones, furrowed brows covering them.

—

Bakugou Katsuki wasn't one to enjoy being annoyed or surprised and this extra managed to make him feel both things in a short notice.

Everyone around him froze in fear or wonder, awaiting his response without breathing or moving an inch. Meanwhile Whoever-she-was held a pink envelope in front of him, a perfume too sweet coming from it making him want to literally gag in the spot.

Another thing the boy did not appreciate was to have someone bullshit him. His senses were telling him to back off, alarms ringing in his head and those purple eyes held hidden intentions; he wasn't having any of it.

"Fuck off." He snapped, yet his stance was casual as he refused to move out of her way since she was the one that had the audacity to run into him.

Some gasps, even coming from his so-called idiotic friends, could be heard and an indignant Bakubro behind him as he got slapped in the shoulder but he did not care. Not until her lips started to tremble as she retreated her confession letter towards her chest dramatically. His eyebrow started to twitch at the sight.

It was a spectacle for anyone surrounding him.

"What's going on?" Shushes and whispers.

"Bakugou Katsuki just got a confession!" Gossip.

"What!? Who?!" Confusion.

"You said Bakugou Katsuki?!" Shock.

"Oh, she's pretty!" Awe.

"He told her to Fuck off! What an asshole!" Outrage.

"Is that Midori?" Surprise.

"The nerve—" Anger.

"Midori from—" Disbelief.

"Oh, my God, she's really doing it~!" Giggles.

He frowned deeper. If people were to talk about him, they should be talking about all the crap he's been doing and all the lives he saved, not because of a fake bimbo decided to cross his path.

Bakugou wasn't stupid either. With time he knew these things would eventually come in his direction, stuff he'd have to deal with in the future as fame would take over, but not now. He did not have time to entertain this show anyway.

There was only one destination in his mind and she was keeping him in the middle of the whole school cafeteria with prying eyes on them both.

"Bakugou, do something, she's about to cry!" Dunce Face harshly whispered, but turned towards the white haired girl that looked devastated in front of them. "Ignore him! Ask me out, I would never make you cry!"

He rolled his eyes so back in his head it almost hurt. With a need to hurl the food he just ate, he made a step to leave the scene but small hands with claw-like fingernails gripped his arm and he looked at her in utter disgust.

"No, I would never! He—" she sniffled but had no tears in her eyes. He gave her a scowl, trying to take his arm out of her grip but she scratched him in place with her tiny rat hands. "You're the one I love! I—" her bangs covered her face as she continued her show.

"Bakugou! Dude! Do something!" Shitty Hair said, his dumb and blind trust in people buying the act. A vein almost popped on Bakugou's forehead.

"I fucking said—" he pulled his arm so hard she fell on her knees by his side. "Fuck. Off."

Another set of gasps filled the room.

"Bakugou!"

One thing he did not want, even if he could tell it was a foul theater, was to hurt somebody. His asshole act ended at that but his pride stopped him from saying anything.

Glancing to see if she's hurt, Pink Idiot was by her side, helping her up and asking way too many fucking questions.

"No, I'm fine..." she said with such a meek voice he scoffed, also hearing all the shit everyone around him was talking.

"He's such a brute."

"What a mean guy—"

"She's crying!"

"Fucking asshole."

He gritted his teeth.

After the disaster with the League of Villains in the first year, people started to respect him for who he was yet one single, minuscule shit like this and they were all at his jugular.

"I took Bakugou-san by surprise." She excused his behavior to Ashido, which then suggested they should eat lunch together sometimes to make up for the trouble after apologizing in his behalf.

"Yeah, we'd love to have you around! Isn't that right, Bakugou?" The apologetic and almost pleading voice of his blond friend, if he ever was going to call him that anymore, just made him bare his teeth. If they wanted to get played like fools it was their problem, not his.

And that's how he found himself eavesdropping on the weirdo and an extra.

And with a single "Whatever." he left the cafeteria, going to check if his gauntlets were ready, annoyance oozing off him, making the sea of people part from his path. Except he didn't notice you rushing away a little bit in front of him, holding a bag of food, all amused.

Why the fuck was everyone talking about him? Can't they fucking keep his pretty name outta their mouths? With time and without finding a reason why the hell he was glued in place, he listened attentively, his suspicions confirmed and his ego hurt, but whoever was talking about him calmed his nerves a lot. He just needed to put a face to that voice. Just to see who's gossiping about him, nothing else.

—

With a full belly and a whole afternoon to study by Recovery Girl's side, you marched towards the infirmary after you bid your farewell to Mei. There was still time to walk around, grab something sweet for later and save any poor soul that Midori decided to sink her teeth in. It was common at this point, you getting in between her and her victims and taking the hit, yet somehow also being called a bitch by everyone. That's how high-school worked. She did have friends and they spread any word she spat. Vultures.

It was fine though. Hero [Y/N] is there to save the day no matter what. You scoffed at your own stupidity, turning the corner just to step on a leg that was sprawled on the floor.

He clicked his tongue, getting up with no worry in the world, but made no action to leave, settling for observing and analyzing you way too intensely.

"Watch where the fuck you're going, idiot." The man of the hour, the guy you've defended in front of your friend just screamed at you as he dusted off the imprint of your shoe left on his pants. Meanwhile you just paled in place before regaining your composture.

"Why are you sitting on the floor?" You said, tilting your head with a frown, already knowing you will not apologize.

Unimpressed by what was going on, even if you truly couldn't point out what really was going on, you made an attempt to move past him towards the vending machines not far behind, but he caught your arm in a firm grip.

You blinked stupidly at the skin contact.

"Heard you were talkin' shit."

Your stomach dropped. Legs almost gave up too if it weren't for his iron grip holding you still. In the silence and at the satisfaction of the reaction you let out, he smirked and raised his chin, only Mei's singing voice coming from her workshop could be heard. Realization hit you. Hit you? Bitchslapped you in the face and left a mark for sure, because your cheeks started feeling heated, tingly.

He dragged you away, maybe to have the privacy to murder you in peace, but your common sense kicked in and you came back from the land of the mortified.

Much like he did before, action you saw with your two own eyes and repeated, you pulled out of his strong grip and stared as he turned towards you, mouth already opened to probably eat you alive.

"I wasn't talking shit about you, dude." You quickly spoke first.

"You don't fucking know me." He growled back, taking a step towards you but like hell you'd back down.

"Don't need to be besties to say what I said." Without understanding why he was so agitated, the only thing left to do after this beautiful turn of events was to defend the honor remaining in you, so you raised your chin to be at par with him. The action clearly took him by surprise, making him glare more, if even possible.

"I don't fucking appreciate when extras talk about me behind my back!"

"I don't give a shit what you appreciate, dude." Your laugh was the complete opposite of his menacing loud voice, like ying and yang.

"Bakugou, the name's fucking Bakugou, you extra!" Bakugou recovered quickly at your snappy self, getting more bothered as you talked.

"Okay, dude." His hands fisted, shaking in place as he stared you down but did not continue.

Silence; the hallway was now filled with silence as he boiled in his own anger and as you raised your brows in confusion. Now what? Was it time to leave? You've never met anyone like him, this was peculiar—

"NOW IT'S WHEN YOU FUCKING TELL ME YOUR SHITTY NAME, YOU FUCKING DUMBASS!"

A second passes; two; at the third you're wheezing your lungs out, laughing at the ridiculousness of the scenario.

"What the fuck are you LAUGHING AT?!" His voice got louder just to top your howling. You did not expect that.

Through a sigh, regaining your breath, you say "It's [L/N] [Y/N].", seeing him retreat in his form and cross his arms. He was still seizing you up.

"If you have shit to say to me, say it to my fucking face, understood?"

"I—... Say what now?"

"I—." He copied in a mock, getting an incredulous look from you. "You stupid or what?" Your upper lip lifted, ready to cuss him to infinity and beyond but he continued. "Like about that bitch from before and shit—" even if he still was loud, he placed his hands in his pockets and looked more interested in the way the tiles on the wall were placed instead of your person. "An' like you told the weirdo—"

No time to be shocked at the implied; his last word enraged you, making your body shake with rage. "Don't fucking dare to call her a weirdo ever again."

Like a challenge, he snapped his face back at you, ready to take it.

"Or what?"

"Listen here, fucker—" now that was a nice surprised face he was pulling. "Just because I gave you a pat on the back in there doesn't mean you can disrespect people just because you think you're the shit. You're not. Now get out of my fucking way." With a final push to his shoulder, your mind was focused on going to the infirmary, steam almost coming out of your nostrils.

"Hey, extra!"

Ignore him, ignore him, ignore him. went through your mind, marching away without a glance back. Not until—

"[L/N]! You're a healer, hah?" That's interesting. He stood where you left him, watching.

"What's it to you?"

Someone sane would've left at your tone but this guy walked towards you then showed you his arms, recently scratched. Images came back to you about the cafeteria incident but did not underst—... did he want to get healed?

You scoffed.

"They're scratches, dude."

"They annoy me. Now heal." All the energy you had left in your body was channeled towards the slow blink you threw at him, at which he scoffed. But they did look nasty— and Midori did them. It was a curse by itself to look down at your own arms and remember that face, so the guardian angel in you decided to take control and be the better person.

Gentle fingers barely tapped his muscular arm. Smile crept up on your lips, feeling absolutely delighted at his obvious stiffness at the skin contact and the clear interest in his eyes, specially when the scratches started disappearing into nothing, leaving smooth silk skin under.

"Hey— Wha— Where the fuck do you think you're going?!" raspy voice got lost in the distance and one thought in your head.

"Want a lollipop for being a good patient too?" You mock and his face explodes in all shapes of red. It would've been great to mock him more, enthralled by his reactions, but with that you turned and left, ignoring the tingling under your fingers that should not be there and your stomping heart.

Did he wait all the lunchbreak to talk to you?

—

A long queue was ahead of you, earning the longest sigh out of your lungs. Life was pain sometimes. Mei couldn't hang out, food was too far away, the delicious croissants Lunch Rush made ran out as far as you could see. Pain. Just pure pain.

And disappointment. When you walked away with your food in a bag, maybe to sit under a tree and enjoy some peace and quiet, you saw her. Midori sitting at a table you did not expect. At the same table where Ashido Mina, Denki Kaminari, Kirishima Eijirou and Hanta Sero sat at. Good people. Honest, good people about to get bitten by a snake. If she was there, then Bakugou decided—

"You. Sit."

Thinking about the boy somehow summoned him behind you. Food in hand and bored expression on his face, he passed you not without giving you a stink eye. Indeed, disappointment.

You shrugged, trying not to pay much attention to the pang in your heart as you moved forward, but a voice— his voice stopped you in your tracks.

"You. Get the fuck out of my face." His growl made everyone around him turn to watch, you being one of them. There was no excuse to what came next, no way to run away past it and dissappear. He nodded his head at you out of all people and pointed at the seat still occupied by Midori; her purple eyes big, shocked, running between your frame and the blond's.

Do you know what it felt to be put in the spotlight without warning? Well, congratulations because that was your life now.

"Ba—Bakugou-san?" Her voice, now highed up and meek followed, then a small scream as Bakugou slammed his food on the table. His friends sat there, wide-eyed, but made no attempt to interrupt.

"Did I fucking stutter, bitch? Or want me to turn into a rabid dog for fucking real?"

You choked on your own spit, bag of goodies about to drop on the floor once you saw her horrified face. She knew that he knew. And when her pale eyes, filled with sudden malice, act dropped, turned to you it's when you realized she figured out where he found out from.

Not like you cared, really, but the little shit that always had to poke out every time she was in the same room as you decided to finally show up, making you wave and send her a wink.

"I said MOVE!" now— that growl, raspy and filled with anger startled her. The orange juice in her hands spilled all over her uniform and woke her up from whatever delusion she was in. With zero time to reconsider, every belonging of hers was picked up with trembling hands and she ran away to her group of cockroaches.

A smile was already settled on your face; your brain was storing that whole interaction deep within, ready to bring it back up whenever you needed a good laugh.

Life was pain and disappointment, you say? No. Life was great. Or more importantly, Bakugou was. Not like he needed to know. But he was a decent guy as he proved—

"THE FUCK YOU STANDING THERE LIKE A DUMBASS?! I SAID SIT!" —to be a pain in the fucking ass and the bane of your existence.

You gave him a face then turned to walk away, even rushing more when you heard his chair screeching on the floor. The exit was so close, so near, freedom never felt this great, the sunlight kissing your skin giving you a new hope to live. But not for long because he grabbed your hand and started dragging you towards his table.

Your hand was in his hand and he was dragging you—

Your hand— his big, warm, a little bit sweaty hand—

How could you ruin such a beautiful moment? Eyes on you two, shocked, silence, his adorable red ears being the only thing you could see as he was completely in front of you, still dragging you towards his friends...

"Did you wait all lunchbreak yesterday to talk to me?" You collided into him as you finished the sentence, his way taller form stiffened so much you felt you single-handedly broke Bakugou Katsuki for good.

But when he turned... Oh, when he turned. Biggest deer-caught-in-the-headlights eyes you've ever seen on anyone, cheeks painted so red you almost melted in the spot, lips trembling as his head worked a thousand miles per second just to find a retort. And you prepared yourself for—

"NO, I FUCKING DIDN'T! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT, YOU FUCKING EXTRA? I'D NEVER WAIT FOR SOMEONE LIKE YO— ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME!" Mina's waving hand caught your attention and smiled at her. Your hand was still in his, gripped harshly as he still hasn't noticed it's still there.

"Hey! [L/N], long time no see!" She cheered, ignoring the living shit out of her screaming friend, like she's used to it.

"FUCKING LOOK AT ME WHEN I TALK TO YOU—"

"Hey, chill, dude. Now let go of my hand, I wanna talk to Ashido." You smiled sweetly, making extra effort to wave your linked hands arond until he finally noticed. He zapped his hand away so fast, like he's been bitten by a wild animal. Maybe even a rabid dog, if you will.

You couldn't ignore your own flustered state as you walked past him, giving him a one up, adding the absolute scandalized face he had into the back of your mind for safekeeping.

"Come sit with us!" The pinkette offered.

"Oh, hey, I know you! You're by Hatsume's workshop all the time!" Kirishima intervened with a surprised face that broke into a grin. "Nice to officially meet—"

"I fucking said." he appeared, sitting in front of you. "My name's Bakugou."

"Ok, dude, but I'm talking to someon—"

"BAKUGOU KATSUKI!" Could be heard from the stratosphere.

Note: I just realized Midori means Green [ fucking duh ] but I'm not gonna change the name or her description. I think her parents fucking up her name was the start of many accidents leading into the Midori we all know and hate. Also, I know you understand. We all know a Midori in our lives. Much love.

Note 2: I keep editing it but tumblr dot com slash Install App on Phone fucks my editing and switches paragraphs all around! If you find any PLEASE tell me, I'd really appreciate it!!!