#extra credit question why did DOS go so fucking hard on every single on screen kiss.......................................................

[charlesemersonwinchesteriii]

i think you are very cool and i love hearing your opinions on stuff :)

Aw thank you so much! ^_^ This is you and me now btw

[madaraxwbu]

pairing: dabi x fem!reader

warnings: smut, degradation, rough sex.

☾ ☾ ☾

You're cuddled up to your boyfriend on your sofa, he has a long arm wrapped around you with a bottle of beer in his other hand. There's a movie that you chose playing on the tv, giving the two of you some entertainment. Well, Dabi wasn't as entertained as you were. but, this was what you wanted to watch, so he was willing to sit through it.

The two of you have had a rough relationship, to say the least. It started off well, as all things do. Cute dates, pretty words and promises with fond touches. His hands held the promise of happiness, his lips took away all of your issues.

But then one night, there was a news report whilst you were cleaning the kitchen. You had put down the utensils you were using to devote your full attention to what the news anchor was saying. It seemed that there was a helicopter cam, giving the live news. On the screen, your boyfriend. He was fighting against a hero from the back of a van. At first, you weren't entirely sure if it was him. But when his name was announced, that was the final confirmation for you.

There was an anger that bubbled within you. You felt betrayed and lied to, you couldn't comprehend it. There was never anything he did that gave you the impression that he was a dangerous criminal.

You were infuriated, but you didn't know where to direct the emotions. Were you angry at him from hiding such a pivotal piece of information? Or were you angry at yourself for being naive enough to fall for his lip service? At the time, you weren't entirely sure. You were majorly conflicted, because you adored him. But did you? Or had you fallen in love with the facade that he had put up?

"Babe," he shook you slightly with the hand wrapped around your forearm. You snapped out of your trance, thinking back. When you came back to reality, you saw the ending credits of the movie playing. You blinked twice, shifting to pry yourself out of his hold.

"You wanna watch something else?" You asked him as you leant forward on the sofa, about to stand up. He scoffed affectionately at your question, a half-smirk finding its way onto his mouth.

"Nah," he breathed, "I had a better idea in mind," he pulled you back, manoeuvring you to hoist up onto his lap.

His hands add pressure to your hips a few times before rubbing small circles with his thumbs over them.

You grinned down to him, "oh yeah? What's that?"

"Hmm," he hums whilst tipping his head back, "How about I fuck your brains out? Make you a whimpering mess and fill you with my cum, does that sound good?" He cockily declared. You cocked a single brow, parting your lips to answer.

Before you could, he nipped at your neck and then swiped his tongue over the agitated skin. His hands slid down from your hips to underneath your pyjama shorts.

He gripped your ass cheeks and ground you down onto him so that you could feel the growing erection that he was packing for you.

His hands are deftly operating to keep you grinding against him, the clothed friction working the both of you up.

His azure eyes fixate on the point where your crotches meet, sighing deeply. He jerks you forward to keep you on your toes but then continues with his slow and agonising tempo.

Fingers trail up your back and around your middle as you continue to rock on his crotch without the assistance of his hands. The pads of his fingers skim the top of your shorts.

"Are you a good girl for me?" He hushed to you. You nodded your head hastily in response, "yes."

He tugged on the sides of your shorts, yanking them up and causing the bottom seam to press up harshly against your slit, "then why are these still on?"

He bounces you with the hold on the clothing until you give in, wiggling away from him. You stand in front of him on the sofa, pushing both your shorts and underwear down in one quick motion.

He rests back against the pillows, eyes scanning you as you undressed yourself whilst he did the same to himself. Dabi decided to keep his white top on, but you were completely bare before him.

Dabi beckons you, wanting you to come back to where you initially were. You straddled his lap whilst his scarred hands started to slip under your thighs.

He easily brings you up, making you rub your slit against the smooth head of his cock. You reach your hand down to guide him inside of you, but he does nothing but put the tip in and bounce you on top of it.

"You wanna beg for it, baby?" He cooed up to you. That arrogant look on his face almost irked you, but your lust was far too strong for anything else to infiltrate your mind.

"Dabi, stop fucking around."

"Oh, that doesn't sound like begging?" He pouted up to you, then stopped moving you. A frustrated whine left you, throwing your head back.

"Please! I want nothing more than for you to fuck me with your huge cock and make me cum over and over again, please?" You spoke with a tone laced with purity and neediness, hoping the extra intonation would entice him further.

He stuck his tongue out to lick his lips, then lowering you down on his length.

Your expression twisted with relief, hips twitching in hopes to get more of his dick.

He relishes in your innocent look, thinking that it contrasted him so much. The two of you were like day and night, but you worked so well together.

Now, your facial features were all he needed to know that you were begging for him. Despite your hesitance earlier, now you were easier to get what he wanted out of.

He slams you harshly down on the final inch of his cock, making your ass smack against his hips. You choked out a moan, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and tangling your fingers into the dark hair at the top of his neck.

He loves how responsive you are, how perfectly in-tune the two of you are with one another. With his grips on your thighs, he doesn't have a means to give you some form of punishment, but you don't need it when you're bouncing so willingly on his cock just how he wants it.

Each movement is minimal as Dabi tests the waters, seeing how little it would take to pleasure you. He studies the way your face contorts and body reacts to every bounce on him. It's almost making you melt with how good it feels, and you know that Dabi can give it to you even better than this - it was exhilarating to think about.

You want his long length to work every corner of your pussy, so much so that you dripping wet with desire.

"Slut," he strains as he feels your wet pool around the bottom of his cock. His right hand came left your thigh and gripped your tit, hard.

You whimpered as the mixture of rough and smooth skin rubbed against your flesh. He pulled back slightly, instead taking the piercing that went through your hard bud in between his thumb and index finger.

He twiddled it, revelling in the way your hips bucked hard against him from the unusual pleasure that it had caused you.

Dabi's eyes drift down to his cock, watching how his hips roll into you and taking you. Your eyes plead, begging him to fuck you harder. His movements aren't enough, you feel like you might explode with pent-up frustration if he didn't do something quickly.

Then, his cock snaps into your so suddenly that your body jolts up and a yelp is ripped from your throat. You chuckle breathily from how ecstatic you are from being filled, but the joyous moment doesn't last long as his hands move back down to your thigh and starts ramming into you like you were a cheap whore.

It always startled you how quickly Dabi could shift gears, how rapidly he was pounding you now in comparison to how teasing and slow he was being earlier.

"You like it rough, don't you?" He mocked you, a flare in his eyes, "you like it when I destroy this little cunt of yours, right?"

You nodded jerkily with a whine, "oh god yes!"

The sound of him fucking you seems astoundingly loud in your quiet apartment, but neither of you mind one bit. Who cares if the neighbours could hear? It was nothing they hadn't heard before.

You rock on him with nothing but lust and desire fuelling you, allowing his grasp on your legs to assist you in fucking yourself on him. It's a wonderful sensation for him, and he adores watching how much of a mess you get when you're horny.

"Touch yourself," he ordered you straightly.

Almost immediately, one hand left the back of his neck and darted down to your clit. You started to rub yourself, small but firm circles across your main source of stimulation. You were choking on spurted moans as you worked hard to keep your pace consistent. His cock filled you so nicely, it was unreal.

"D-Dabi!" you moaned as you felt your first orgasm rattle you. Your legs quivered, your head dropping to rest on his shoulder. Your fingers stopped their ministrations on your clit, which Dabi had noticed.

He thrust up into you with an anomalous ferocity, "did I say you could stop touching yourself?"

You shook your head, whimpering as you responded to him, "it's too sensitive!"

"I don't care, touch yourself or I'm going to stop fucking you."

Hou snapped your head away from his shoulder in desperation, shaking your head profusely, "no! Nonononoo, please!" You pleaded as your nimble fingers went back to touching yourself. You were so sensitive and wet that it was almost painful, but the wet made it easier for Dabi to rail you in the way he was.

Your sighs die down to much smaller ones, but each and every one goes straight to his dick. His hands trail up and grip your ass, pulling your cheeks apart to spread you wide whilst he used the hold as leverage to fuck up into you like a man possessed.

He was groaning and panting, breathless as he focused on nothing but making sure you were thoroughly fucked. He controls the pace, giving you exactly what you want so that you can cum once more.

His calloused fingers are digging into your ass as his teeth are clenched, thrusts becoming inconsistent and unexpected. The fierce grip on you reminds you who you belong to, who you forgave despite all the lies. Who you love.

Sweat trickles down your back as you thrash in his hold, letting him fuck you like you were a personal toy. Your cunt feels amazing wrapped around him, so tight and aching. One hand grabs a fistful of your hair and drags you down so that your ear is near his lips.

"Cum on my cock, do it right now, you whore," his voice is so dark that you're reminded that he is actually a villain after all.

But right now, you couldn't care less about that. His order makes you lose yourself on him, whimpers bent in your throat as his cock is soaked with your fluids. His eyes find his dick once again, now utterly covered in white substance from your orgasm.

His eyes roll back at the sight, pushing his hips up and pulling you down so that you meet in the middle whilst he releases himself into you.

You're far too sensitive as your mind goes white, eyes fluttering shut and breathing heavy as you collapse on him.

"We should... Probably clean up," he breathed as he let his muscles relax.

[shoutosteakettle]

⤷ pairing: natsuo todoroki x fem!rreader

⤷ genre: slight angst, fluff

⤷ word count: 2418

⤷ warnings: maybe ooc natsuo 

⤷ a/n: i am so fucking excited to post this fic because it is my first fic for a server collab!! check out the rest of the fics for the collab here, everyone on the list is such a talented writer and i know that they put a lot of effort into their fics. and as always, thank you @ererokii for the beautiful banner for this fic,, i love you aims 

☆彡

You have memories from one year ago today!

You looked at the notification on your phone, trying your best not to let the tears biting at the corner of your eyes spill out onto your cheeks. Even though you know you shouldn’t have, you opened the app; your eyes immediately darted towards the face of your ex. It had only been a couple weeks since he parted ways with you, but you had already forgotten just how handsome he was, and just how happy you used to be.

“Fuck!”

Your pained yelp was loud enough to startle the elderly couple sitting on the bench in front of you. You got up, brushed the dirt off your skirt, and sent a bow to them as a quick sorry for your vulgar language. When you straightened your back to stand up, your shoulders still slightly hunched, you looked in front of you, losing sight of why you had come here in the first place – not sure you ever really had a reason.

It was hard to keep track of your thoughts when you were overwhelmed by the amazingly beautiful scenery in front of you. The warm colors of the wilting leaves on the autumn trees paired almost perfectly with the fairy lights strung from them, lighting the path of food stands, game booths, and street performers as if it was art taken from the pages of a fairytale book.

As you trailed the path you had many times before, though you were usually accompanied by the person you thought you would love you forever, you let the nostalgia wash over you, almost completely forgetting about the stabbing pain in your right ankle for a minute or two. But you were brought back to your less than desirable reality when you found your face buried in the broad chest of a stranger. You limped backward, fully ready to apologize profusely to the stranger, but your breath hitched, and you couldn’t find the words to do so when you caught sight of his face.

The first thing you noticed was the definition in his jaw, the bones shaped as if was done by the gods themselves. Your eyes took note of just how clear his skin was, absent of even the slightest imperfections (despite being a full-time college student). In all your awe, you hadn’t noticed that his eyes were tracing your face in the exact same way. Taking in everything from the volume of your hair to the shape of your nose. It wasn’t until your eyes met his did you finally say something, “I- I’m so sorry, I must not have been paying attention.” You sent him a curt bow before standing back up and continuing on your limped journey for the infirmary.

But you stopped your steps once again when the white-haired male that you had run into placed a hand on your shoulder. “Are you okay,” he asked, gently turning you around, noticing the way you were trying to avoid putting pressure on your right foot.

“Yeah, I just- I think I sprained my ankle,” you told him, not even bothering to hold back the pained expression on your face anymore.

“Oh? That’s perfect- this is the nurses’ booth,” he said, pointing to the sign hanging from the hem of the tent.

“So, what happened,” he asked, rummaging behind his desk, most likely looking for what he would need to get you patched up.

You cringed at the memory as it replayed in your head in response to his question. “I was, uh, distracted on my phone and ended up missing a step going down the stairs, I took a little tumble, and here we are,” you explained, still mortified by the whole ordeal, but smiling to yourself about the way he chuckled at your last comment.

You watched him rise from his squatted position, ice and bandages in hand, before striding over to the cot you had situated yourself on. He sat down his supplies on the table next to you, making small talk as he rolled over the stool from his desk to the foot of your cot. “May I,” he asked his hands hovering above your right foot. Understanding he needed to take off your pump to help you out, you gave him a shy nod. 

You felt your cheeks heat up at the sight of the chipped nail polish on your toes. You meant to get them done; you just hadn’t gotten around to it yet, what with all the self-loathing. You jumped at the feeling of his hands on your skin. 

“Cold right,” he laughed, looking up to send you a quick smile, “I get it from my mom.” His smile looked sad, like there was a lot more emotion behind it then he was letting on. 

“So why are you here instead of enjoying the festival,” you asked him. He looked pretty young, around your age, so it was hard to believe he was actually a nurse.

“I’m actually in Uni, my first year. I’m majoring in health and welfare; extra credit for one of my classes was tending to the booth,” he explained, not looking at you, but rather focused on examining your ankle. You didn’t mind though; he had the most beautiful side profile and was truly a joy to look at. Everything from the lack of color in his hair and how it framed his face perfectly, to the length of his eyelashes and how they [make blinking sexy]. He went to ask you a question in return but was cut off when you let out a sharp hiss in return to his fingers pressing a little too hard on your ankle.

“Yeah, it’s definitely sprained,” he confirmed, looking up to see your face completely drained of little positivity it had before. “Don’t worry babes, this is what we’re gonna do.” You watched with glossy eyes as he rolled over to pick up the ice pack sitting on the table next to you before rolling back over to take another look at your ankle.

“We’ll use ice to help with the swelling and hopefully some of the pain, yeah,” he said very matter of factly despite the questioning tone of his voice. He looked up to you once again, waiting for a sign of confirmation that you were following him, so you sent him another shy nod. “We’ll do this for around 15 minutes. What time is now?”

You grabbed your phone from on top of the table next to you, tapping the screen and seeing the numbers 8:53 shine across the top. “It’s 8:53,” you repeated, reading the numbers off of your home screen.

“It’s already that late,” he questioned more to himself than anyone else. “So 9:03, go ahead and set a timer, so we don’t lose track of time.” You did as he asked, ignoring the smile of your ex as you swiped out of that app and onto the clock app, putting in fifteen minutes into the timer and pressing start.

“So what are you doing here at the festival,” he asked, finally taking a good look at you for the first time since you ran into him outside.

“Um,” you started, looking for an answer you could give him. “I come here every year to celebrate my anniversary.”

“Oh, you’re married,” he asked, taking a second look at your hand, dreading that he might see a ring he missed at first glance.

You feel your cheek heat up at the thought of marriage, how nice that would be. “No, actually, I’m recently single,” you clarified for him, shifting uncomfortably in the awkward silence following.

After a minute or two, perhaps the longest in your life, you found it in you to look him in the eyes again, only to find his were already looking back at you. “It’s probably for the best. Everything happens for a reason, and all of that, right?”

“Right,” you chuckled in response. Of all the ways you looked at your breakup trying to put reason behind your ex’s sudden, I think we’d be better off apart, never had you once looked at it as it was just fate. Your relationship being simply not meant to be, but maybe that was the best way to see it.

“What about you, are you in a relationship,” you asked, not meaning to come off as desperate as you're sure you sounded.

“Unless you're asking about the intense love-hate relationship that I have with my textbooks, then no,” he said, laughing with you at his own joke. “Why do you ask?”

You felt your cheeks heat up once again at his sudden inquiry, and for what felt like the thousandth time today, you found yourself without an answer to his question. “Just curious,” were the two words you were miraculously able to get out without stuttering.

“You said you were majoring in health and welfare, right,” you asked, desperately trying to detour the conversation from the topic of relationship status.

“Yeah.”

“So you want to be a doctor,” you asked, tilting your head to the side just a bit so you could get a better view of his face.

“That’s the plan,” he answered, keeping in line with his usual jokey tone.

“Why is-”

“I think it’s my turn to ask a question or two,” he suggested, cutting you off with the most teasing voice.

“Are you in Uni,” he asked. Your face, while beautiful, was an unfamiliar one.

“Yeah, but I go to school in Tokyo,” you said, a little embarrassed at the fact that you drove so far just to reminisce a little.

“That’s pretty cool! The city life over there is pretty exciting, right,” he asked, sounding almost awestruck.

“Yeah! I don’t go out much, but when I do, I always have a lot of fun,” you gushed, unable to keep the smile off your face as the memories came rushing back to you.

“Maybe I’ll have to come up there and take you out sometime,” he laughed, playing it off as a joke, but you didn’t miss the wink that he sent your way. 

“I think I would really enjoy that,” you smiled, watching as a soft pink tinted his cheeks at your sudden bluntness.

“I-”

Just as he was about to say something in return, the timer you had set went off, the sound of the phone’s default ringtone blaring throughout the room.

“Alrighty,” he groaned, taking the ice off of your ankle and rolling over to the bedside table one last time. He put down the ice and picked up the bandages before rolling over the foot of your cot once again. You winced at the feeling of pain when he reached for your ankle. You could see it in his face that he was hurting for you as he wrapped up your foot. You're sure he said something doctorly about how compression was supposed to help with the swelling but you were too focused between the delicate work of his hands and the look on his face as he concentrated to pay attention.

It wasn’t until the feeling of your pump being placed back on your foot did you finally realize that he was finished. You set yourself down on two feet, listening to his advice about not putting too much pressure on your right foot. But even without walking on it, your right foot still hurt like a bitch.

“I can help you out,” he offered, already sweeping you off your feet before you had a chance to politely decline, sure that he had better things to do than helping you for any longer.

You couldn’t stop the soft giggle that left you as relaxed in his arms, feeling like you were right at home. Like this is where you were supposed to be there. Like he was made for you and you, him.

“It’s really pretty out here in the moonlight, huh,” you questioned rhetorically, the lights that shone in the streets reflecting in your eyes just like stars twinkled in the night sky.

“Yeah, it really is,” he agreed, but his eyes weren’t on the scenery. They were focused on you. Taking in your face all over again in fear that he might forget just how beautiful you were in the time between now and whenever the next time you see him is, that is, if he ever sees you again.

As he carried you bridal style through the festivities that was the fall festival and through the parking lot to your car, silence overcame the two of you, but unlike before, this silence was comfortable, nothing but the murmurs of people indulging in conversations and the crunch of leaves under your savior’s feet every now and then. No words were needed; if anything, they would probably ruin this moment between you and him. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this at home with someone, but you certainly wouldn’t say that you minded the feeling. Despite his cold hands on your skin, your heart was overflowing with warmth, and it was all because of him.

“Which is yours,” he asked, nodding his head towards the cars. When you pointed out yours, he took his last couple of steps with you in his arms before carefully setting you down in front of your car. You weren’t ready to say goodbye yet. You wanted a little more time with him.

“Oh my god, I never got your name,” you confessed, mentally kicking yourself for forgetting something so important.

“Don’t sweat it. I’m Natsuo, Natsuo Todoroki.” 

“Well, Natsuo, Natsuo Todoroki,” you began, playfully mocking his cliche answer to your previous question, “would you mind giving me your number,” you asked, offering him your phone.

“Of course not,” in return for your he handed you his phone already opened to the contact app, and ready for you to input your information. 

“I don’t give that out to just anyone, so make sure you put it to good use,” he winked, taking his phone from you and turning around to walk back to his booth, but not without stealing one last glance from you as you climbed inside your car.

As you suffered the pain that was driving with a sprained ankle, there was only one thing running through your mind that distracted you from it all; Natsuo Todoroki was starting to look like a person you could make new memories with.

[talesmaniac89]

The Classifieds

Pairing: Past Dean x Reader 

Summary: What lengths will Dean Winchester go to when he runs out of options to save the people he cares about? Is he willing to let go of a part of himself to save his family?

Triggers: Hurt, Coma, possible loss/death, open ending, no resolution, angst, No happy endings here guys. This is just angst for the sake of angst.

For sale: 1967 Chevrolet Impala

Lovingly restored black ‘67 Impala needs a new home. This 327 four-barrel beauty comes with a newly installed 502 Big Block 550 Horsepower Engine to give you that extra bit of push. Though it has a mileage of over 600,000 miles travelled, this beauty runs like new after several full fixups, constant servicing and a lot of TLC. Registration is up to date as of January this year. 

With its souped-up engine, new paint job and fresh set of tires, this baby looks like it just rolled off of the assembly line. Both the exterior and interior of the car have received a near perfect restoration with a few small exceptions; there’s a green army man toy stuck in the ashtray, a few Lego pieces are rattling in the vent when you turn on the heat, and there’s a small carving in the rear window sill. These are all minor interior flaws that can easily be fixed by the buyer.

I’ll share details like the VIN, classic car ID and answer any other questions directly to any prospective buyers.

She’s been with us since ‘73, and never let us down. Baby’s part of our family, and we’re sad to let her go, but I’m hoping the new owner will love her as much as I have.

Price: Best offer

---

Taking a shaky breath, Dean held back the tears that burned in his eyes, blurring his vision as he read through the classified ad one last time before motioning to hit send. His finger shook over the enter key as he squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed the lump in his throat. He didn’t want to do this, but he had no choice.

Baby meant a lot to him, of course she did. But she was only a car, and if he didn’t let her go, then he could end up losing so much more. Selling the Impala was his only choice.

He needed money. A lot of money. For (Y/N) and Sammy. Their last hunt in Chicago had landed them both in separate hospital beds after prolonged contact with a djinn, and they weren’t waking up. Even after Dean killed the fucking monster that had them trapped, they both remained unresponsive, and they were fading fast. Only kept alive by modern science and a team of hardworking doctors and nurses.

Still, Dean was in the business of saving people. And if ganking another monster of the week wasn’t gonna cut it, then he’d do whatever else he needed to do to fix this. He wouldn’t let his little brother, or the woman he loved more than life itself, die in that hospital. He couldn’t lose them, either of them.

But, their stay and continued treatment required money. More money than he had. More money than he could ever hope to get from his measly collection of fake credit cards, poker games and hustling some poor fool at the local dive bar.

Which was why he was balancing Sammy’s computer on his lap as he sat, defeated, on one of the uncomfortably hard waiting room chairs. One finger hovering over the enter button as he tried to breathe through the growing lump in his throat and the helpless panic lodged in his chest. Either way, he’d lose something. But this way he’d save his family; the only goddamn good thing left in his life.

Swallowing down the bitter defeat, he let his finger press into the enter key with a little more force than necessary. Sending his ad in to the classifieds with nothing more than a dry, low sob goodbye.

Dean would scrounge up every damned cent needed to keep his family alive. Even if it meant selling the only home the Winchester brothers had ever really had.

Because the Impala was their only real home, more so than the bunker could ever hope to be. Yet, what was a home without people to live in it? If he lost his family, then the bunker, the Impala, or any other place he tried to run away to would just be a coffin. Somewhere to lie broken, bruised and defeated as he waited for the world to catch up and realise his heart stopped beating the day that fucking djinn landed Sam and (Y/N) in that hospital bed.

“Goodbye Baby… I’m sorry,”

---

“…Winchester?”

Someone was calling his name, but Dean was too far gone to listen. His red rimmed eyes stayed laser focused on the online listing. Dry and burning after minutes spent staring unblinkingly at the picture of his Baby that topped the ad. The picture was just one of many, the first he could find without Sam or her in it, but it still meant so much to him.

In it he could see every single moment he’d spent behind the wheel of that car.

He could see nights spent by (Y/N)’s side, stargazing on Baby’s hood. His hand painting patterns on her bare arm as they just… Existed together, not talking or hunting, just living. Her head resting on his shoulder as he whispered promises of forever into her (Y/H/C) hair.

He relived every time she’d helped him fix his Baby back up, handing him his tools with that tempting sheen of moisture trapped against her neck and collarbone from the heat of the Kansas sun. Endless drives, with Sam calling shotgun; using his longer legs to his advantage and leaving the fiercest huntress Dean knew in the dust while she grumbled about deserving a front seat view for once.

He could feel the steady and safe vibration of the steering wheel under his fingers and heard her singing along to his mixtapes. Her head leaned back and (Y/H/C) hair moving slightly in the small breeze from the open window. (Y/E/C) eyes hidden behind closed eyelids and a small lazy smile, just barely visible through the rear-view mirror.

That one picture, topping the classifieds ad, held it all; every moment on the road so far. And there’d been many. More than he could ever hope to count.

From the desperate rushed rescue missions and races against the clock, to the lazier road trips after a fight well fought. The easy drives would always be his favourite moments. Just sunshine, warming the air around him as he drove his family back to the bunker. Safe in the knowledge that he’d kept them all out of harm’s way once more.

He’d spent so many long days on the road, he could picture it all perfectly. Even in the pixelated picture of an empty car. (Y/N) would be lounging in the backseat, humming along to his music. Stretched across the leather seats as Sam tried to talk both Dean and her into agreeing to change the classic rock music blaring through the speakers with a podcast or audio book. Giving his all to another convincing argument, fit for the former Stanford student, and still failing miserably every time.

“Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole,”

Dean flinched slightly at the sound of his own voice. He hadn’t meant to say the words out loud. Even the cracked, whispered version that left him. Yet, as soon as the words were out, he could nearly hear the echo of Sammy’s quipped “Jerk” in response to the golden rule. Barely catching the ghost of it with a trembling, empty smile before it was crushed under the louder sound of cold professionalism above him.

“Mr. Winchester?” The doctor repeated, sounding slightly annoyed at his lack of response and waving the papers in front of her as she waited for him to take them from her. The admission forms.

There were two of them. One for each of the two people he loved more than life itself. Lying in separate hospital rooms, only kept alive by machines and wires. Alive, but not really living, for as long as he had money to keep funding those fragile lifelines.

“Please fill in the fields for their insurance and the payment plan section. If there’s any issues…” The doctor said, voice free of judgement or blame as he lifted tear stained eyes to catch hers.

“No… You’ll have your money. Just… Save ‘em doc. They’re all I have,”

Dean didn’t have time to sit around feeling sorry for himself. He needed to get the money. He’d do anything to save his family. Hell, he’d have already sold his soul three times over if he had anything left to actually bargain with. And his baby, the Impala that had been their home, would never be the same again without Sam’s constant attempts to change his music or (Y/N) signing along from the backseat or making his baby brother roll his eyes at her bad jokes.

Though he’d yet to get an offer on the ad. And he needed money fast.

Cas had tried, but his weakened grace couldn’t help them, and there were no other last-minute interventions there to save the day. After all, saving the day was what the Winchesters did, and Dean was two soldiers short of a full team. 

No, he couldn’t sit around hoping someone would come rescue them and he couldn’t shoot or punch his way through this problem. All he could do was cling to his phone and hope someone offered to buy a piece of him. One he thought he’d never part with. Hell, at some point he’d even dreamed about handing the keys over to his own child one day, one with green eyes and (Y/H/C) hair, to let the Impala live on when he retired somewhere calm and quiet with (Y/N).

A dream he now realised was foolish to even hope for.

Keeping his eyes on the picture of his Baby on the laptop screen, Dean’s hand tightened around the papers. His voice shook as he prayed out loud, just as much to the classic car on the screen as to the doctor in front of him. 

“Please save my family,”

Tags:

Dean Winchester Tags: @ria132love​​ @woodworthti666​​ @defenderrosetyler​​  @akshi8278​​ @justanotherwinchester​​ @lyarr24​​ @torn-and-frayed​​ @all-will-be-well-love​​ @wearesuchstuff1​​ @thefridgeismybestie​​ @adoptdontshoppets​​ @starsandmidnightblue​​ @punof-agun​​ 

Forever Tags: @deanwanddamons​​ @winchest09​​ @hobby27​​  @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​​​ @sea040561​​ @donnaintx​​ @alwaysdreamingforthebest​​  @thatmotleygirl​​ @chocolateheart​​ @superfanficnatural​​ @flamencodiva​​ @starryeyeseunbyul​​ @waywardbeanie​​ @supernaturalenchanted​​ @ellewritesfix05​​ @emoryhemsworth​​

[twoblueheartslocked]

Para: December/January Flashback.

Rating: PG.

Pairing: Seblaine. (And Seblaine is still very much the endgame.)

Sebastian: @colorsicantsee

Blaine: @twoblueheartslocked

Time: Four years before the events of ( Hold On To The Memories, They Will Hold On To You ) Events taking place in December/January of Blaine’s Senior Year and Sebastian’s Junior Year. Blaine (17) Seb(16).

Location: Sebastian’s House. Westerville, Ohio

Info: Blaine’s parents are tragically killed in an icy car accident on Sunday, December 28, the day after Blaine and Sebastian spend their incredible night together. A devastated Blaine deals with the aftermath of his parents death in the only way he knows how which results in two very broken hearted teenage boys.

Warnings(PLEASE READ THIS): This para includes mentions of parental death(Both) and a whole bunch of self loathing. There’s a break up and it does not have a happy ending for our boys. This was not fun to write at all, but remember they’re very much endgame- soulmates.

Extra Warnings: (This RP is not Kurt Hummel friendly. You’ve all been warned.)

Notes: Some canon events remain in place while others have been changed. Some things may even be out of order. You can consider this sort of canon divergent AU. A few changes are that Blaine’s parents are different from the show (His mother is Filipina), he didn’t cheat on Kurt or date Dave and Sebastian is younger than Blaine. Feel free to send a message if you have any questions!

Blaine’s POV:

“There was ice on the r-road. God, they’re gone, Blaine. I-I don’t know how else to say it. Mom and dad are gone…”

He could still hear his brother’s panicked, weepy voice ringing in his ear. Could still feel the icy chill run through his body as the words sunk into him, pulling him down into a darkness that he’d never felt before. That Sunday, after having the most incredible night, Blaine went from feeling the best he’d ever felt to feeling like he was suffocating in despair. It felt like someone had thrown him into the Arctic with nothing but the clothes on his back. He remembered waiting for Cooper to come home, remembered how quiet and too big the house had felt, how the silence had pushed into his brain and it was maddening...that fucking quiet. But, on the inside his thoughts felt loud and chaotic and he was screaming, screaming, screaming. But if you walked by and saw him you just see a teenager, small and lost just standing there numbly as people in uniforms and nice suits talked at him about what would happen to him next.

That had been two weeks ago. Will and Imelda Anderson had been laid to rest and Cooper had moved from California to Ohio while Blaine finished out his Senior year. All the therapists and people in charge had told Cooper it wouldn’t be fitting to take him out of school to move across the country at a time like this. So, against everything he wanted, Cooper was back in Ohio, miserable and trying to figure out how to be a parental figure while in mourning and in a house with nothing but ghosts and memories that were still too fresh- so fresh that they cut like knives to think about.

The weeks had gone by in a blur, he hadn’t been back to school yet, and was dreading the day that he’d have to. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to function as a person when his whole world had been shattered. The only thing he’d been able to bring himself to do was see Sebastian, and even that hurt him because he couldn’t even smile for him. He’d been at the Smythe’s almost every single day since it happened, he’d tried to go see Sam but all he got was pitying looks from Sam's parents and he couldn’t handle it. Sabine, Seb’s mom,  had simply pulled him into a hug and in her soothing lilt told him she was there for him and that was that.

Today was the fourteen day since they’d been killed, and it had been fifteen days since Blaine had last gotten to hug them, or speak to them in person,  and it was the twelfth day since his parents had been put in the ground . He wasn’t doing well at all. He was wrapped up in Sebastian’s arms on their couch in his basement, his back to the room, his face turned and pressed into Seb’s chest, his arms wrapped tightly around Seb’s slender frame, as he fought his hardest not to fucking cry again as the mumblings from some movie played in the background. Going to Seb’s house was the only place he felt a fraction of okay, but he also felt like absolute shit everytime he went there.

He always started out his trips promising himself he would find a balance and every time he went over there he’d tell himself today would be the day he’d smile for Sebastian, and today would be the day that he’d give him a real kiss, not just a peck, but a real one with that showed all the pent up feelings he still had for him- they had just been pushed down because Blaine didn’t know if he had anymore room for anything other than pain. He wanted to follow through, wanted to smile for Seb and kiss him properly because Seb deserved that. He’d been nothing but supportive and sympathetic, and had stood by him like a dutiful boyfriend (even though they didn’t say that outloud) throughout everything and Blaine was the worst kind of person because he couldn’t even muster a half smile for his person.

It occurred to him right then that he may never be able to smile again. He may never be able to properly kiss Sebastian the same way he had two weeks ago when everything was as perfect as a winter snow globe scene. Sure, Seb didn’t seem to mind and also seemed content to hold Blaine close and talked to him like a person instead of a ticking bomb, but it killed Blaine that Seb’s life was just put on hold because of him. Blaine’s broken heart ached impossibly more at the thought and he felt like the most selfish person in the world for dragging the other boy around. And all at once he found himself sobbing again, big,  loud, wailing and snotty sobs that sounded so raw and the front of Seb’s shirt would be wet again. Fuck, Sebastian didn’t fucking deserve this. He deserved so much better than this version of Blaine. This broken carbon copy. He felt like the old version of himself died with his parents, leaving his friends and person with a hollowed out, crybaby version of himself.

He cried, and struggled to catch his breath, and clung so tightly to Seb that when he finally stopped there were black spots in his vision and he felt weak. Possibly because he’d hardly eaten, but mostly because crying was exhausting and that’s all he did lately. Everything hurt, mentally and physically. His voice was high pitched and pathetic when he finally found it.

“God damnit, I’m so sorry, Seb.”

Sebastian’s POV:

Sebastian hoped he was being helpful. He had never had to console somebody, had never even attended a funeral before. Never had to stand in the back of a stuffy room full of too many black ties and random casseroles and  the scent of carnations heavy in the air. He did it all, though. Sebastian picked out his best suit and hung back until Blaine needed him, squeezed his hand during the procession to the graveyard, sent flowers by instruction of his mother and took a prayer card home and brought Blaine water and crackers when he cried so hard he started to heave. He did it all quietly and patiently and spoke his condolences in hugs and kisses on the cheek. Sebastian knew that saying sorry wasn’t enough and that Blaine needed time, which nobody could give him.

Sabine had made it clear that their home was open and that the other boy was welcome. Sebastian spent so many nights holding Blaine as random movie credits rolled in the background, his boyfriend sobbing until he fell asleep. He was thankful for the little slices of peace sleep brought to Blaine. Eating was pretty much out of the question but Sebastian always offered granola bars and fruit snacks. He never minded when his shirts got soggy with tears or sweat from a nightmare that Blaine had. He just wanted Blaine to feel better, just wanted him to survive this.

Seb clung tight to Blaine as he sobbed. He wished his hands could force the broken puzzle pieces of his boy back together again. He rubbed circles in Blaine’s back and kept quiet, just let him cry it all out as he stared at the flashing tv screen. Sebastian watched as Snow White ran through a haunted forest and thought to himself that it seemed like Blaine was stuck in the same place but instead of trees, it was all ice and crashing metal and broken glass.

“Hey, don’t be sorry,” Sebastian shook his head. “I have plenty of shirts.”

Blaine’s POV:

Blaine forced himself to sit up on the couch, he held onto Seb for leverage,  his body swaying a bit as the dizziness took over him. He knew he needed to eat something soon, knew that he needed to take care of himself if he ever hoped to feel better at all. The thought of food made him feel nauseated, everything he’d eaten in the last two weeks had tasted like dust on his tongue and had been even harder to swallow.  How long was he going to feel like this? A hopeless pit of despair that pulled him under more and more each day. Would he ever feel better? He looked over at Seb, embarrassment and pain evident on his face and the fact that his first thought wasn’t how happy the other boy made him feel anymore, but rather how miserable Seb must be sitting here with him day after day, all the hours blurring into one never-ending session of comforting Blaine as he cried or asked why over and over again knowing there wasn’t answer- was devastating to Blaine and he didn’t know what the fuck to do about it.

They’d been following this pattern for two weeks, Seb had come as soon as Blaine called him that day and had been by his side every single day since. Sure, Blaine knew this is what couples did, know that when you cared about someone you were there for them, you held them close and kissed their head and told them that you’ve got them the way Seb had been doing. But, Seb was a sixteen year old kid and his junior year was slowly slipping by him while he put everything on hold for Blaine. Lacrosse would be starting up soon, how could Blaine ask Seb to miss it? How could Blaine be so selfish to keep him here when he had no clue when he’d feel better.  Seb was going to hate him for this eventually. He just fucking knew it.

Still, the thought of being without him. The thought of not getting to touch him,  kiss him, or press close to him under the covers, or to eventually tell him that he loved him- Blaine still hadn’t gotten to tell him, made him want to throw up and again, he didn’t know what to do. He swallowed hard, his mind running wild with the thought that Sebastian was secretly sick of him and his breath hitched and another little sob escaped which turned into another one. It didn’t occur to Blaine to take a deep breath, and maybe tell Seb that he loved him now, or that Seb might say it back. Blaine couldn’t convince himself that Seb was okay just holding him, that Seb was happy to be there for him while he mourned. Blaine had been slowly convincing himself since the first time he sobbed into his shirt that Seb was miserable. And that he was just being selfish by keeping him around. He sniffled, Seb’s words making his bottom lip wobble in their sweetness.

“God, you’re perfect.” He sobbed out, not able to keep the control over his words like he needed. “I lo-” He wanted to say I love you so much, you’ve been amazing, I just don’t know what to do right now, you need to live your life…And his mouth wouldn’t let him say it, and all over again he felt sick, like he was actually going to throw up even though the only thing he had in his body were a few crackers and some water from hours ago.

“I can’t. God, I don’t know what to do.”

Sebastian’s POV:

Sebastian wished he could read Blaine’s mind. He couldn’t decipher anything on his tear stained face except for pain. He just nodded as the other boy struggled for words, rubbed his back in what he hoped was soothing circles.

“You don’t have to know what to do, B.” He knew his words were never going to be enough but he couldn’t let Blaine’s hurt hang in the air ignored. Seb was okay pushing his homework off until Blaine left, was okay with driving to Blaine’s directly after Warbler rehearsal, could tolerate watching one million Katy Perry videos and old movies in an effort to cheer the other boy up. He was down for anything even if it meant sitting in silence. Sure, he missed how Blaine was just a few short weeks ago. But, he knew he’d never get him back unless they dealt with the monstrous tragedy that clung to his guy. If that meant tear soaked hoodies and half drunk water bottles and cracker crumbs then so be it.

“Do you want me to go get you anything?” Sebastian hated forcing Blaine to eat but he knew he probably needed something soon, he could feel him shake. “I’ll get you whatever you want.”

Blaine’s POV:

Blaine could feel his breathing pick up, he was balancing on the edge of a full on panic attack and he didn’t know how to reel it all back in. He teetered there, and he knew in his hearts of hearts all he had to do was reach out and ask Sebastian to help him through it. All he had to do was lean on him for a little bit longer and eventually he’d be there, he’d get through all of this but… his brain seemed to be blocking him from accepting that. He’ll wake up one day and he’ll find that he hates you for ruining what’s left of his junior year. He could have been out having fun, but he stayed cooped up in a basement for god knows how long you feel like this and he missed out on everything good. He won’t be able to concentrate on Lacrosse or the Warblers because of you. He’ll miss out on dances and prom and touching and sex all because you’re sad, Blaine. You've got to let him go.

He looked at Seb, really looked at him- Taking his beautiful face, his green eyes wide and eager to please him, ready to help him however he could. And Blaine had never loved another person besides his parents as much as he loved Sebastian Smythe in this moment. Tears slipped quietly down his face as he cupped Seb’s in between his hands and leaned forward to press a kiss against familiar lips. The kiss tasted salty from his tears and Blaine wondered if he’d ever get to do it again.

“You, god Seb, you’ve been so perfect.” His words were choppy and his breath hitched and he felt so sick to his stomach. How was he supposed to do this? How was he supposed to be unselfish when all he wanted was to cuddle back up and let Sebastian take care of him? “I-I think we-” his words felt heavy and wrong and he stood up, wrapping his arms around himself and he felt so small and if only his mother were here, she’d help him understand why he was about to break his own fucking heart. She’d tell him how to deal with his feelings and keep what he loved in the process.

A little voice in his head that sounded very much like himself, only weaker spoke up, pleading with this new, sorrowful version of Blaine. You don’t want this, Blaine. He’s the best person for you to be around, he’s the only one that makes you feel halfway okay. Just fucking tell him that you love him finally and that you’ll feel better one day and thank him for being there for you. But, Blaine’s mouth said something different and what was left of his tattered heart broke right in two as he spoke and he sounded like a stranger to himself.

“I think we should maybe take a break for a bit.” He could hardly look at Seb, his person's handsome face went from confused to shocked, like he had been slapped, in a split second. “I want to be with you, I just don’t know how to be right now, Seb and it’s not fucking fair to you and I think maybe if I could just try to figure how to breathe maybe I could be better for you and I think the only way I can do that is if I-I do it alone.” You’re so stupid, Blaine. You’re so wrong. Don’t do this to him. Don’t do this to yourself… More miserable tears fell, this time wetting his own shirt and not Seb’s. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know how else to do this…”

Sebastian’s POV:

Sebastian kissed Blaine back but it didn’t feel like the kisses they usually shared. It felt too slow, tasted like salt instead of cherry, and it felt like the last one they’d share. He blinked a few times and tried to shake the empty, sunken feeling that started to fall through his body.  Suddenly Blaine was speaking but he didn’t sound like himself and Seb felt like he was having an out of body experience. Was he being broken up with? What had he done wrong? Blaine constantly told him how good he was but now it felt like he wasn’t good enough and that was too familiar of a feeling for him.

He swallowed the thick lump in his throat and closed his eyes for a moment, Sebastian really didn’t want to burst into tears, the thought made a swirl of anxiety rush through his head. He also didn’t want to beg but everything in him was screaming for another chance.  Sebastian put his hands up in an effort to stop Blaine from speaking. He suddenly felt so pissed off his hands trembled.

“You don’t get to decide what I need or want. Nobody gets to decide any of that except for me!” His voice was higher than he had intended and he hoped Blaine didn’t notice the warble of tears trapped in his throat.  Sebastian stood up from the couch. He wanted to punch the wall, wanted to knock the tv over, wanted to run to his room and burrow into the covers, wanted to scream and cry into his pillows.

“This makes no sense. I thought I was helping you. You….you said I was good. You just….get to throw me away like everybody else.”

The tears finally fell down his face and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He was so mad at himself for giving into crying, for looking weak in front of the only person he wanted to impress,

“Get. Out. Get out! I don’t fucking want you here anymore.”

The words were out of his mouth before he could take them back and his feet stomped up the basement stairs, past his mother in the kitchen, his back was pressed to his bedroom door before he let himself take a deep breath that ended in a sob. 

Blaine’s POV:

Blaine watched as Sebastian struggled through what he’d said, the other boys face breaking his heart just that little bit more and Blaine wanted to reach out to him and pull him close and tell him that he didn’t mean it. Because he really didn’t mean it, he didn’t want to do this. He knew that with his whole heart that he shouldn’t have done this, that there had to be a better way to deal with his hopelessness, but he didn’t know what it was. He was just trying to save Seb from the inevitable catastrophe of being stuck with someone that was only half living. He wanted more than anything, except maybe to have his parents back, to stay right here and let Seb bring him back to life one day. But, he knew it was selfish, even if Sebastian couldn’t see it right now.

“Seb you are good, please, that’s not what this is about. You did everything right! I’ m not doing this beca-” The rise in Sebastian’s voice cut him off and his breath hitched at his angry words and Blaine tried to reach for him as he pushed past him and took off up the stairs, but Seb was fast and his words were still echoing in his ears minutes  after he had left. The space where he’d been still felt charged and full and Blaine wondered if he’d always feel him there.

The air around him felt suffocating and and the room was so still, so quiet that the voice in his head was screaming desperately at him to go up the stairs and to find Seb and tell him that he’d been wrong to say that, that his head was just messed up and that he needed him by his side while he figured everything out. But, his self hatred had already started to settle and he had already convinced himself that he didn’t deserve that comfort. If he could make that wonderful, beautiful boy sob like that how could he ever think he deserved to keep him around? His body ached as he forced himself to put his coat on and then his shoes and each step up into the main part of the house felt like glass on bare skin and he prayed to a god he didn’t know if he believed in that Sabine wasn’t still in the kitchen. He hoped she’d gone to Seb, hoped that he wouldn’t have to see her disappointed face. Though a tiny little part of him hoped she might hug him like mother’s do but he knew he didn’t deserve that and that it was selfish to want it.

He managed to get himself out of the house without running into anyone and without looking at anything, lest the memories grab hold of him and pull him under. It didn’t occur to him until he was outside in the cold January air that he hadn’t driven here. He’d been too nervous to drive since his parents' accident, so afraid that he’d slide off the road too so Seb had been picking him up and bringing him to his house. Blaine’s bottom lip quivered at the thought, how sweet it was that Seb would go out of his way like that so he wouldn’t have to think further about his mom and dad. He pressed a hand over his mouth as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and tried to ignore the background photo of him and Seb smiling up at the camera. He thought about calling Sam to get him, but Sam was in Lima and it would take him too long. Instead he was forced to call Cooper. His big brother made it known that Blaine was being an dumb and that he wasn’t thinking clearly and why would he do this, but something in Blaine’s face maybe told him that he knew all of that and Coop shut up for the rest of the ride home.

He’d managed to make it into his bedroom before bursting into a new wave of tears. This time with an added loss, one of his own making. He cried so fucking hard he threw up, he’d only eaten crackers and water so it hurt and he thought maybe he deserved it. And as he pressed his forehead to the cold toilet seat it hit him how much he didn’t want this. He knew he’d fucked up. He knew it without a doubt and regret and self loathing filled him up and he threw up once again. Finally he managed to pull himself up and he put himself into pajamas and cleaned his teeth and face before curling up on his bed. It had been four hours since he’d left Seb and each hour hurt so badly he thought he might die. He’d never experience this kind of thing before and he wondered if he’d ever feel good again. With shaking hands he tried to reach Sebastian, one last plea for understanding or maybe forgiveness.

Blaine(8:02 pm): I know you don’t want to hear from me right now, but please give me this chance… Blaine(8:07pm):  I’m not throwing you away, you’re not something anyone could do that to, you are so much more than that. You’re an amazing person that deserves so much more than I can give you right now. I’m trying to keep you from hating me in the long run. Why would you want to spend your time trying to fix someone that may not be able to be fixed? I don't know if I’ll ever feel right again and god… Blaine(8:13pm): You’ve done everything right. I need you to know that. You’re perfect. The best thing that’s ever happened to me, you mean so fucking much to me. I didn’t do this because I don’t want to be with you. I want to be with you more than anything... I just don’t know when I’ll ever feel like me again and that’s not fair to you. Please, don’t think it’s because of you. I’m the messed up one and you deserve better. Blaine(9:15pm): Please, Seb. Talk to me. I’m begging you. Anything, I’ll take anything. I miss you so much already.

He curled into himself, his phone clutched in his fingers like a life line and while he thought he might not be able to cry anymore he managed to cry himself into a fitful sleep. When he woke up the next afternoon, the only messages he had were from Cooper and Sam and he cried all over again. He’d broken his own heart into tiny little pieces and now he was sure he’d done the same to Sebastian, he regretted it more than anything he’d ever done and probably anything he would ever do again. He stayed in bed and ignored everyone for the rest of the day. His heart aching with each beat as if it could also feel the three giant holes December and January had left in him. He’d not only lost his parents, but he’d lost his person, someone he was sure he was meant to be with and he’d done it to himself all because he couldn’t figure out how to exist anymore.

He’d give anything for his dad to tell him he’d be okay and to feel the squeeze of his hand on his shoulder, or to feel his mothers arms around him again, whispering how much she loved him, or to see Seb’s for Blaine only smile light up the room and take his breath away. None of these things were possible. He felt worthless and alone, and still so very much in love and he knew, without a shadow of doubt, that he’d feel this way forever.

Sebastian’s POV:

Sebastian didn’t know when he fell asleep. It was somewhere between his mother softly knocking on his bedroom door and the snow beginning to fall outside his bedroom window. His entire body felt tired and heavy in a way he had never experienced, not even after Lacrosse games or Warbler rehearsal. Sebastian reached for his phone in the tangle of blankets out of habit and saw the splash of texts across his screen. Seeing Blaine’s name brought up another surge of confusing emotions- sadness, anger, loss. He didn’t want to respond. He wasn’t sure how to articulate how he felt and his gut reaction was to say something mean. Seb decided to not say anything at all and deleted all of the messages. Maybe it wasn’t fair but was it fair that Blaine was already saying he missed him?

In the back of his head, behind all of the stubbornness, Sebastian knew that Blaine was going through a lot and this was all a part of his mourning. He just couldn’t let go of the hurt or the embarrassment or the fact that the other boy decided to make the decision for the both of them. Sebastian threw his phone across the room, he didn’t want to hear from anybody for the rest of the night or maybe even the rest of the week. He wondered if his mother would let him skip class tomorrow or if his father would let him move onto campus during the week (it might help in avoiding Blaine).

Sebastian stared at his dark bedroom ceiling and a million feelings and thoughts infiltrated his mind and body. He took a deep breath but it wavered with the threat of tears. He wanted this to be over, wanted to numb how sad his heart felt and how unwanted he was. How terrible was love anyway? You give everything for another person, you let them see every ugly part of you and you give up all of your time for them and you still end up thrown away like old newspapers. Was it ever enough? Everybody reminded him all of the time he wasn’t worth it and Blaine had solidified that for him. Sebastian decided he’d never fucking do it again.

Seb snuck into his father’s study, stole  a bottle of whiskey and made it back into his bedroom without being seen. He drank until he didn’t feel anything but the floaty, dizzy spin of too much alcohol. The whiskey lulled him to sleep but he dreamt of Blaine the entire night.

/fin.

[planetsam]

Michael Guerin, Space Pirate

Huge shout out to @signoraviolettavalery who made a great post about a Martian au that I cranked up the angst on by deciding Alex would be a great space voyeur to Michael’s space pirate. 

Being stuck on the graveyard shift feels oddly appropriate.

He thinks Michael would have loved the irony of it.

Alex takes a long drink from his coffee. He watched the launch after it happened, in one of the staff break rooms. He didn’t think much of it, only the 3AM shift he had the next morning was on his mind. Now he wishes things were different. Not that he fully expected his high school fling to remember him, or to realize that he was working for NASA as well. Alex is in SatCom, he monitors their satellites. Eyes in the sky, some people call him, but he likes to think of himself as an Interplanetary Voyeur. Most of his education and training goes to waste. He didn’t mind it when he felt like he was a part of something bigger than himself, making sure that everyone got home safely. 

Now when he looks at the red planet, all he thinks is how Michael finally got his wish. 

Michael always wanted to be part of something bigger. He also wanted to get the hell off the planet. Alex remembers their endless conversations about it, laying under the real stars when they could and the fake, tacked on stars when they couldn’t. Michael found his way off the planet. And was the most popular astronaut to boot. He was the only one surprised at that. Alex saw his face everywhere. Each time it kicked up a gut punch of emotions. Mostly now it was a sadness that was far too familiar when it came to him, to them—now though there was a finality to it. The idea that Michael would be bones on Mars and the only way Alex would ever see him was in old footage was borderline incomprehensible. For the moment Alex let himself not think about it and focus instead on his job. The storm had cleared and he focused on what they could see. It was highly unlikely they would ever see Michael’s body, the dust storm would have buried him. But Alex hopes he does. Michael deserves that closure.

Taking another hit of caffeine, he turns to scrolling through the pictures and cataloguing things that have shifted in the dust. He frowns and zooms in towards the HAB. Alex refines the pictures, teasing out a clearer image. He can picture the conversation in his head, he knows the exact arguments. He brings up the images from the past few days. The way things have shifted does not line up with what is in front of him. The solar panels should be completely covered, but they are clean. Spotless, or as spotless as anything gets on Mars. He looks again and triple checks just to make sure. The chance is impossibly slim. But his hand is already reaching for his phone. He thumbs in the number for security.

“I need the emergency contact number for Dr. Kapoor,” He says, “this is Alex Manes in SatCom.”

“Are you sure it’s an emergency?” The bored voice asks. Alex isn’t sure of anything at the moment.

“Yes,” He says instead.

The head of the mission is wildly above his pay grade and Alex has been raised to respect the chain of command. Why his violations of it seem intrinsically linked to Michael Guerin is something he doesn’t have the capacity to figure out at the moment. Not after the phone rings twice and he hears the man on the other end clear his throat. God, he’s woken his boss up at 3:35 am. 

“Hello?”

“Hi, sir, this is Alex Manes in SatCom,” he says, “I think Michael Guerin is alive,” there is a distinct bang and a groan, a whispered apology and the sound of feet moving, “the solar panels are clean.”

“And you’re sure it’s not the wind?”

“Yes, sir,” he says, glancing up at the screen as the next round of images come through. He almost drops the phone, “sir, the Rover has moved.”

“What?!”

“The rover moved,” he says, scrambling to look at the photos again, “the solar panels are clean and the rover has moved.”

“I’ll be there shortly.”

Fuck. Mars.

Fuck it so hard.

Michael is over this planet. He wants off. Why he can’t find a planet he wants to stay on is beyond him and now definitely is not the time for those deep philosophical questions. He’s got more pressing issues like making sure the hole in his gut closes without infection, finding a way to supplement his food and, oh yeah, contact earth. 

“Look, I’m not upset about being left behind,” he tells the log, “that’s protocol. What pisses me off is the fact that I’m doing everyone’s homework,” he shakes his head, “here’s my new universal constant: a group project will always end with one person doing all the work. We’ll call it Guerin’s Law.”

He has an idea for contacting earth. The problem is that it rides on earth knowing he’s contacting them. He’s got no idea if anyone has even figured out he’s alive. He doubts it. But there’s a chance. He knew it was bullshit but he had an affection for the dramatic Rover that gave it’s dying words and sang itself a birthday song every year. Michael has had plenty of those birthdays. And of course when he’s already doing everyone’s work, he now has to do the extra credit and pull off the save. If he doesn’t get an A, he’s fucking suing. He looks in the camera, aware this could be his last message.

“Captain Evans,” He says, “none of this is your fault, I forgive you for everything if that’s what you need to hear,” his solemn face turns deadly, “but if this doesn’t work and I die listening to your alarmingly inclusive Donna Summer, I will turn your life into the karaoke bar from hell.”

Seems like a good note to go out on.

Summer eat your heart out.

Alex looks over the chart again.

And again.

The spotlight is nerve wracking. They have established Michael is alive, but they don’t have a way of communicating. He knows Michael is trying to figure something out and everyone is scrambling to find it. He also knows he has an advantage. It’s been years, so many thing have changed, but he’s got a good idea of how Michael’s mind works. He follows the paths the Rover is making and connects the dots before anyone else. 

“Opportunity?”

“It lines up,” he says, “he’s going for the Rover.” 

“Let me make some calls.”

Thankfully the Opportunity team is largely still around. By the time Michael gets  it up and working, they are ready. The images come in and patch together. Alex is awake for twenty hours straight but he’s there when the images come in. Michael standing in front of two signs and holding a third. Alex’s heart leaps into his throat and it’s got nothing to do with the truly staggering amount of coffee he has consumed. A cheer goes up and he sits down before his knees can do anything like buckle. Michael’s face is just visible. Alex can make out a single curl that’s half escaped from his cap and it’s always the little things. Michael is alive. They point the camera towards the ‘yes’ sign and the next image is blurry but only because he’s jumping up and down. He’s got no back up supplies and he’s jumping up and down.

Alex thinks he might be the one who dies in all of this.

OPP: Huston we had a problem.

DSN: Good to hear from you. 

OPP: You have no idea.

So the communications issue is more or less resolved which is awesome. And he’s saved Opportunity. Which makes him even more awesome. All around it’s awesome. Except Isobel still thinks he’s dead which is less than ideal. So he’s in a little trouble on that one. But he would trade everything for her to yell at him. Not that he’s got a lot to trade. 

OPP: hey, DSN whose babysitting me tonight?

DSN: SatCom

OPP: no shit

DSN: language

OPP: fuck

OPP: whose babysitting? got a name?

DSN: alex

OPP: i’m michael

DSN: i know

OPP: does this mean i’m super famous? think i can get free fries at the mess?

DSN: no it’s alex. from high school.

Michael is literally on a different planet but he jumps anyway and twists around like he’s being spied on. Alex was a punk kid who, okay, he may have been slightly in love with. But his homophobic dick of a dad ended that. He may have crossed Michael’s mind a few times, but never enough to do something like look him up and see that they worked for the same place. For some reason he feels more comforted by this news than he has by almost anything else. Except maybe that people knew he was alive at all. 

OPP: no fucking way. i thought you said you were joining the Air Force.

DSN: i did. then I went to grad school and joined NASA. 

OPP: wait SatCom figured out i was alive. was that you?

DSN: yes

DSN: i saw the solar panels were clear

OPP: and you thought that was me?

DSN: i figured even you would clean if your life depended on it.

Michael snorts, it’s not like he’s had much to clean back when he knew Alex. He was living in his truck. But when he thinks about his desk at NASA—okay it is a mess. He can admit that. It blows his mind that Alex has been here the whole time. That Alex figured out he was alive. He tries to reconcile the idea of who he remembers with whoever found him. But all he can picture is the kid who unknowingly saved his life more times than he can count. More times plus one, if he thinks about it. Probably plus more to come, if things keep going this way. 

OPP: do you still have that septum ring?

DSN: go to sleep

OPP: come on, do you? 

DSN: no

OPP: too bad, I thought it was kind of hot.

DSN: bed, michael

OPP: yes dad

DSN: please do not call me ‘dad’, they are reviewing these

OPP: ok daddy

Captain Isobel Evans reads the message several times to be sure. Then she gathers everyone together. She’s thought she was a good leader this whole time, focusing on getting the crew that was still alive back home even though the only thing she wanted to do was cry over the loss of her crew member. She runs the scenario over and over again. But it remains the same. There was no other choice. Now she doesn’t know what to think when she has to tell them. It’s only Max she looks at when she speaks. 

“Michael’s alive.”

Pandemonium erupts from the others but Max stares at her. His own horror and guilt reflect hers. Michael is alive but he’s on another planet. Michael’s alive but who knows for how long. She made the call to leave him, but as the ship’s doctor he made the call that he was probably dead. They are both culpable and innocent, but Isobel blames herself more than anyone. She should have given the order to wait, no matter the risks. They all scramble over to the communications screen. Kyle gets there first because it is, after all, his chair. He refers to it as his ship too. Then again he is the one who flies it. 

HRMS: sorry we left you on mars, we just don’t like you that much. 

OPP: assholes

OPP: hows the cptn?

HRMS: we’re all good. how are you?

OPP: bored af

OPP: look. boobies ( . Y . )

HRMS: michael!

That night Max sits hunched over in his bunk, arms wrapped around himself. He never should have said that Michael was dead. But he and Isobel have been running over everything. But now it turns out Michael is alive and he can’t fathom what it must be like for him to be back there alone. Did he know that they would learn he was alive? Did he think he would die there a second time and no-one would know? The thoughts are horrible and each occurs to him in rapid succession until he thinks they might drive him crazy.

“Hey,” Liz slips into his pod, “how are you holding up?”

“I told Iz there was no way,” he says, “he’s been there the whole time and i had no idea—“ he stares at her, aware he is asking for answers she doesn’t have, “what if he dies there? How is he going to spend four years there until we launch another mission?” 

“He’s going to be fine,” she says, cradling his face in her hands. He ignores the rules, the fraternization line they always dance around and leans into her touch, “he’ll be okay and soon you will laugh about this,” she smiles, “after you buy him all the vodka on earth.”

“I’ll buy him whatever he wants, as long as we get him back.”

OPP: alex

OPP: ALEX

DSN: i’m sorry, Alex has been transferred to SatCon.

OPP: GO GET HIM

Huddled in the Rover, Michael forces his breathing to be steady. He cannot afford for something else to go wrong. Behind him, the HAB stands as a shell, blown when he failed to pressurize it correctly. It broke. He broke it. His crops are gone and he feels like crying. Which is not going to help. He can’t panic. He can’t flip out. He wants Max and Isobel and his pod on the ship that’s getting farther away with each second. Mostly he wants the person on earth whose his lifeline in this. He forces himself to look away from the screen. Maybe Alex is asleep somewhere. Maybe he’s just as fed up with his bullshit as he was in college. Michael grips the chair. No, no he is not giving into his abandonment issues because he’s literally the only person on a planet and his only friend won’t answer the phone. Mars is his planet and he refuses to have them go down like this. 

DSN: michael what happened?

“Thank you Martian God,” he breathes

OPP: the hab depressurized 

OPP: i’m ok. crops are gone. all of its gone.

DSN: you’re ok. thats the main thing.

OPP: says the guy with seamless at his fingertips

DSN: i told you you were going to have to learn to cook one day

Michael laughs despite everything. And okay maybe it ends in a sob, but just one. Alex throwing shade like they’re texting and this isn’t a life or death situation makes him feel so much better. He knows Alex is probably hyperaware of being watched but he’s still willing to do it. Michael knows it shouldn’t be a big deal but he’s alone on a planet. The only person who can judge him is in a mirror and he sure as hell doesn’t bring one of those on the rover. 

DSN: michael are you there?

OPP: i’m there i’m just outraged

OPP: i am an extraordinary boiler

DSN: do i want curly or regular fries with this sandwich?

OPP: asshole

OPP: thanks

DSN: hang in there

Maria Deluca, astrodynamicist extraordinaire figures it out. 

She checks her math, swears loudly and breaks her almost new piece of chalk. Guerin is a planet away and he still manages to ruin her love life for at least—ugh—another year. Asshole. Why couldn’t he have just stayed on the ground with Alex like he wanted to? She writes out her calculations and tells the mission heads. Then she does the right thing and hides the info in the latest data dump for the ship, knowing her wife and her bff will figure it out.

That evening she finds Alex in SatCon. 

He looks awful and she feels the same annoyance at Guerin. They’ve both slept with him and she might have had feelings for the mop haired cowboy at one point, but Guerin is good at leaving and being so focused on one thing that he fails to see anything else. Like an unhappy boyfriend or girlfriend. She sits next to Alex and hands him a cup of coffee. 

“Any word from the space cowboy?”

“His food supplies are ok but the rations are getting to him,” he says, “part of its mental but the rest—“ he shakes his head, “he shouldn’t have to deal with his issues up there.”

Michael was food insecure for most of his childhood. He’s good at functioning on limited calories but he’s also scared of not getting his next meal. The fact that Alex remembers that makes Maria want to hug him. She settles for sighing and shaking her head at the situation. All of NASA has been reading their back and forth. For science. The fact that it reads increasingly like a romance novel is definitely not important. And people definitely aren’t taking sides. She doesn’t have a Team Alex t shirt like some people. Just a baseball cap. 

“He’ll be okay,” she says.

Alex nods wordlessly but his eyes are glued to the screen where their communications occur. She nudges him. 

“Say hi,” She says. 

“I can’t. He needs to focus.”

“You can still say hi,” she says. 

“It’s a waste of resources.”

Rolling her eyes at men and their excuses she nudges his chair out of the way and gets at the keyboard.

DSN: hi

“Maria!”

Ten seconds later the reply come.

OPP: hey i was just about to message you

OPP: you miss me that much?

“Maria—“ Alex tries for the keyboard.

DSN: always

Alex grabs it finally.

DSN: adokfjosiaf

OPP: you ok?

DSN: sorry. yes. 

OPP: good. i miss you too.

Alex sucks in a breath and Maria grins. It’s almost almost worth another year with her wife. Not quite but almost. Alex gulps and stares at the message. His fingers hover over the keyboard as he hesitates, swamped by an insecurity Maria has seen before. She looks between him and the keyboard, sending every mental signal she has to him. 

DSN: keep going and we can see each other again

OPP: dunno, you could always come to Mars 

OPP: visit me

DSN: I like earth 

OPP: you’re making this song way too relevant 

DSN: what are you listening to?

OPP: I would do anything for love

“That is my song,” Maria says, “my song with my wife.”

“She’ll be back soon,” Alex offers.

Maria hates them both.

“This is a mutiny,” Isobel says, “we all need to participate and we all need to agree. Kyle and I know the consequences. We’re military. But the rest of you need to understand this could mean the end of your careers. They might not let any of you fly again,” she says, “it also means another year without your families. There isn’t any shame in wanting to go home. We do it together or not at all.”

“No one gets left behind if we can get them,” Kyle says, “I might be flying this thing but I am still a doctor. Do no harm. I vote we go back.”

“Michael is my brother,” Max says. 

“My family is here,” Liz tells them, gripping Max’s hand, “let’s do it.”

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” Jenna, their long suffering media relations director says.

“The Hermes is in the middle of an unsanctioned maneuver to slingshot themselves back to Mars using earth’s gravity as an assist.”

“So a mutiny,” she says, “you want me to put out a press release that says a bunch of astronauts turned space pirates have performed a mutiny?”

“Actually it’s Guerin who would asked to be referred to as a space pirate, since he is technically commandeering a vehicular over international territory.”

She sighs. It’s too early for a migraine. 

“I hate everyone in this room.”

DSN: michael

DSN:  michael update me

DSN: GUERIN

DSN: captain blonde beard, do you copy?

OPP: CBB: i copy. everything’s good

DSN: you are taking this way too far

OPP: CBB: that’s kind of judgmental for someone whose not a space pirate

OPP: CBB: if you were here id make you walk the plank. by that i mean solar panel

DSN: find water and maybe it’ll work

OPP: CBB: i have to starve, become a pirate, now i gotta find water too?

OPP: CBB: anything else?

DSN: come home 

OPP: CBB: only because I want to, not because you’re making me

He modified the ship like they tell him but until he’s in there,  he doesn’t feel so great about sitting there. Not until his radio crackles to life with the first human voice he’s heard in over a year.

“Guerin, do you copy?”

“Iz!” His voice breaks around the syllable of her name.

“Michael, oh thank god,” she says. Isobel has had her game face on this whole mission, hearing the relief makes the tears break free, “we’re launching you, strap in.”

“Tell Valenti to be careful,” he says.

“I got you, Guerin,” Kyle says, “you ready to come home?”

God that sounds so nice. 

“I don’t know, it’s kind of nice having this all to myself,” he chokes out.

“We got you, hang tight.”

He blacks out. 

When he comes to, the ship is too far away. He can hear the swearing. It’s bad. He takes a deep breath and refuses to give in to the panic. The side door opens and he sees Isobel coming towards him. Max is on the side of the ship. His family is there. 

“I’m going Iron Man,” he says, punching a hole in his hand.

“Michael!”

He aims himself as best he can and propels towards Isobel. She reaches and just when he thinks this isn’t going to work, they collide. They lurch violently to the side but she locks her arms and legs around him and snaps a carabiner to the front of his suit. The lead connecting them snaps taut and for a moment he’s sure it failed. He’s dead in space. But he blinks several time and nothing has changed. The relief shatters him in a way he didn’t know was possible and Isobel lets out the best laugh he’s ever heard in his life.

“I got him!” She calls and everyone erupts into cheers, “I got you,” she says.

“You have terrible taste in music,” he tells her. 

They reel them in. The only possible reason he would let go of her is to throw his arms around his brother. Max clutches him and Isobel together as the hatch seals and the chamber pressurizes. Michael collapses against his siblings who take his weight immediately, undoing his helmet. Their voice goes into his ears, no radio or texts. But the first human hands that touch him belong to a friend.

“Mikey!” He’s not even mad about the nickname as she hugs him and then works on getting the suit off him.

“Liz! Get me—“

“On it.”

She gets him out and then Max and Isobel are there. Kyle and Liz fall with them and it’s a big pile of tears and hugs and laughter and snot. He doesn’t care. The pile make their way to the comms to message that they have him. Unwilling to let go of each other even though Michael is very aware that he needs a shower.  

CMMND: good work! Come home.

 Alex has his last 3AM shift the night before they get back. Maria keeps him company. She suggests that he come with her to the families area but he turns her down. He’s not family. His boss insists he come with him to the command center. He watches the ship land. When he sees Michael pop out, throw down his helmet like he made a touchdown and throw his hands up, he feels like the breath he’s been holding for the six months it’s taken to get back to earth can finally be released. Michael is okay. Everyone is okay.  He staggers from the room.

“I’m gonna just—five minutes,” he says. He’s woken up every night certain the news will come in that Michael is dead. He has to go to a second funeral. Michael is fine. He’s dizzyingly exhausted with the thought. He drops onto the couch. It will be hours before he sees him. “Five minutes,” he tells himself and closes his eyes.

He wakes up to the smell of hazelnut coffee. 

He opens his eyes, already knowing what he’s going to see. All the ways he thought about this going, Michael crouching there in a NASA onesie with his hair wet and two cups of coffee isn’t it. Alex carefully sits up, afraid that this is a dream. But Michael stays every time he blinks. When he’s sitting, Michael holds out the coffee cup. 

“A small token of my—“ 

Alex throws himself into his arms. The coffee goes flying as Michael bands his arms around him, equally tight. Two years of text messages sent through a Rover and suddenly all of their other senses are flooding with each other. Alex never wants to let go of him and he can feel Michael trembling against him. Their faces are buried in each other necks and he’s never been so glad they are the same height. 

“Thank you, thank you,” Michael breathes into his neck and Alex clutches him closer.

“This was all you.”

“It wouldn’t have been if you hadn’t seen me.”

They pull back enough just enough to look at each other, taking in the differences. The reports all say how driven Michael has been with his recovery and Alex has been pushing harder at his own pt. In that moment he doesn’t think that it matters. He doesn’t care what either of them look like or what state they are in. He just wants Michael here. Michael presses his lips together, his eyes dragging to his lips. After everything, there’s something he immediately recognizes. 

“You’re not seeing anyone,  are you?” He says.

“No, this really infuriating guy named Captain Blonde Beard keeps texting me at 3am.”

Michael is still laughing when he kisses him. 

This, Alex thinks, is more than worth the wait. 

[hermionesterrier]

More Than Human: Chapter 9 Liveblog Pt. 1!

“Monday Broke My Heart” It really did :’(

The hilarious irony that BUTCH is the one with the defensive special power hehehehe 

“We'll be moving," Blossom said. "We'll find you," Brick responded, and she went warm. HE'LL FIND HER JKHGFDSATLKGHFD!!!!

Someone please hit Butch.  

"I hope Butch won't," Buttercup snarled. "I hope he gets punched in the sack." SAME!

Kiss With A Fist by Florence and The Machine very appropriately decides to come on my playlist right at this moment xD

BUTTERCUP YOU DON'T HAVE POWERS WTF ARE YOU DOING *FACEPALM*

Butch to the rescue....kind of xD

Butch is absolutely loving this

"I feel like I'm wearing some sort of girl armor," he remarked once they were in the air. "It's weird."

Butch, you fucking idiot!

BOOMER! I know Bubbles is your girlfriend but you grab BOTH girls with no superpowers

Why do people still live in Townsville? One of life's greatest mysteries...

*Cue musical montage of Brick looking like a heroic Greek God*

Oh Blossom...he'll never be the hero you want him to be.

"Oh, in that case," he said, then produced a really big gun from behind his back. "Buttercup has a point," Blossom said. "Where do you hide these things?" A serious question that needs an answer asap

Now Brick to the actual rescue!

Reds screaming at each other...well this feels more familiar xD

Awww it's really adorable how worried Brick is about Blossom. You'd think something like this would knock some sense into his thick skull but no ofc not!

Oh my fucking God Butch YOU DROPPED HER WTF DUDE

She stopped, then looked at Boomer. "I'll give you ten bucks," she said. Boomer immediately slugged his brother in the face. Buttercup later gave him an extra ten for the sound Butch made as he ate the asphalt.

I neeeeeed to know what Bubbles is working on *_*

He picked at a corner of his textbook cover, trying to straighten it and thinking of how easily she had smiled at Robbie. "I can't believe you did that. Without powers or anything. Jumped through glass, I mean. Up from seven stories. And then beat Mojo Jojo, on top of it." He could almost sense her relaxing beside him, her anger giving way to a slight confusion. "You're kind of a beast," he said, and she fidgeted. Brick is totally buttering her up and she is totally falling for it lmao

What a heartwarming father-son reunion xD

He turned on his most beatific smile and saluted. "Hi there, Professor Utonium. Nice to meet you. I'm, you know, Boomer. I'm here to see Bubbles." "Of course," the Professor said, and something curled in Boomer's stomach, something dark that screamed Danger and Doom and Death Will Soon Be Upon You.

R.I.P Boomer...you will be missed :')

I think the real question is what wouldn't he do to you, Boomer? :’) MWAHAHAHAHAHA

Oh man this face-off between Brick and Mojo is EVERYTHING holy shit

"You," Mojo Jojo said quietly, "have been such a disappointment." Brick's eyes flashed. Brick is totally triggered that the one who created him, the one Brick considers to be beneath him, the one who's wasting his talent and brain by staying in Townsville, is disappointed in HIM! You can tell how much this enrages Brick because, unconsciously, he's still looking for validation from Mojo. He wants Mojo to admit that he, Brick, is better than him and has put his talents to better use. He wants Mojo to admit that he's a failure. Basically it's a who's-more-Evil contest. That whole visit was an ego trip for Brick. It backfired. Obviously. Because even with everything he's achieved, Brick is a teenager craving his parents' validation of his life choices but still wanting to be free of them. You can’t have it both ways when your creators are a diabolical evil monkey and the Devil himself. 

Poor Boomer AHAHAHAHAHAHA

"Shut up. You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen." The urgency in his voice made it obvious. Mitch meant it. Buttercup looked at the camera, her eyes soft, almost sad, but that smile was on her face, that tiny, scared, and yet deliriously happy smile that lit up her expression, made it almost shine in the dark. Mitch was right. She was... Just wanna point out that this whole scene is from Butch’s POV. He’s the one thinking all of this. One look at this happy, scared, in-love Buttercup and he agrees with Mitch 110%. She is the most beautiful girl Butch has ever seen. Not on a superficial oh-she’s-so-hot level, but more like on a deep I-see-your-soul level. Butch isn’t falling for Buttercup because she’s fucking hot (though obviously he knows she is), he’s falling for her because she’s beautiful and he knows her. He knows her and she knows him and they share a deep, quiet, comfortable and comforting connection that they don’t have with anyone else.

Butch stared at the screen, his jaw sore. He'd been clenching it; he hadn't even realized. It's always a ‘show, don't tell’ with the Greens AND I LOVE ITTTT

Butch is so thrown off by the Buttercup in the photos and videos. He's not used to a smiling and genuinely happy Buttercup and he feels left out that he wasn't a part of that. He's jealous, not just of Mitch because obviously he's jealous of Mitch and the fact that he and Buttercup dated, but he's jealous that he, Butch wasn't there during this time and that Buttercup might have shared a connection with someone else other than him. He's supposed to be her best friend, no one else. And he also wants this Buttercup. He wants that image of her smiling and being happy so yes, damn right, he's gonna keep staring at it until it leaves a permanent print on his brain.

I wonder if he keeps them though...

I love how surprised Brick is that Robin invited them to her party #introvert

Awww @ Brick missing Bubbles in class ❤

Blossom was already there, and she glanced up from her book as he came in. He tried to take his time getting over there. Keyword being "tried" ofc AHAHAHAHAHAHA yea sure Brick as if you didn't attend this class just to see her xD

"If it's free reading could we just leave?" one of the students asked. "Who was that? John? Stacy, hit John for me." There was a whack, followed by a subdued, "Ow." BAHAHAHAHAHAHA...JOHN IS ME THO

since feeling is first who pays any attention to the syntax of things will never wholly kiss you; It's a testament to how many times I've read this story that I now know this bit by heart. LOVE the choice of poem considering who's reading it *winks*

Brick is unrecognizable in this part of the chapter...his feelings for Blossom are intensifying and showing and that's terrifying him but at the same time he's not giving a single shit...so far.

"He started it!" Butch cried, pointing his knife at Boomer. "He made fun of Bubbles!" Boomer cried, pointing his knife at Butch. "You started it," Buttercup growled, pointing at Butch. "And you were the one being made fun of, not Bubbles,"

Ugh Reds are KILLING me this chapter

Brick racking his brain on how to ask her out and growing so desperate that he literally chokes on air bahahahahahaha

THE BOYFRIEND KILLING MACHINE OMG I AM LMFAOOO

IT IS SO A DATE I MEAN COME ONNNNN

Reds at their best and most adorable *_* I LOVE it when they forget themselves and actually get along. I'm in love with these scenes of them and how they're both completely loosening up in a way they never have around other people. THOSE TWO CONTROL FREAKS ❤

This story has made me wanna read Camus ngl

Oh my god I think this is the first time we ever see Brick laughing a real genuine full-on laugh like wow

She swallowed her bite, her guilt dissipating as she watched him take a bite for himself, from the other end of the slice. He nudged the plate towards her. "I don't mind," he said around the fork in his mouth, staring at the plate. His voice sounded odd, a little strained, even. "It's not a big deal. I don't mind sharing it with you." BUT IT IS A BIG DEAL HOLY SHIT I'M DYINGGGGG

BRICK OPENING UP. BLOSSOM OPENING UP. BRICK AND BLOSSOM ARE ON A FUCKING DATE AND I'M LOVING EVERY LITTLE TINY BIT OF IT!!!!

Seriously, the date scenes are my favorite Reds scenes. SEE WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU GET ALONG LIKE NORMAL PEOPLE YOU TWO CONTROL FREAKS!

"I beat Mojo Jojo up for candy," she said, a little breathlessly. "I let our dad steal toys for us when he was sleepwalking. I stole an expensive set of golf clubs for him." The candy episode is one of my faaaavorites!!

Oh my god, Blossom, you're supposed to be the smart one! OF COURSE HE'S FLIRTING WITH YOU! AND OF COURSE IT'S A DATE!

Brick trying so damn hard to look cool and casual as if his heart isn't light speeding waiting for her answer hehehe

"These are awesome, Buttercup," Mitch said, "Thank you, Mitch." After a pause, she added, "See? No wonder Mitch was the only guy I dated." A sudden, awkward silence fell over the room. Buttercup, seeming to have regretted her attempt at comedy, started to devour her snickerdoodle. Butch stared at her from the corner of his eye. Her customary smirk and hard expression had given way to uncertainty and she was clearly upset with herself. The laugh he forced sounded natural enough, and everyone turned to look at him. "Don't lie, you dyke," he said, still forcing a snicker. "Sorry to break it to you, Mitch, but you were just a beard." CAN WE JUST TAKE A MOMENT TO APPRECIATE THE BEST FRIEND THAT IS BUTCH BECAUSE HE JUST DOESN'T GET ENOUGH LOVE! Also also another instance of Butch reading people like a pro and being better at social situations than he’s ever given credit for.

I think Blossom is having an out-of-body experience xD

Brick? A gentleman? And worried about seat belts? Huh...?

OMG BOOMER'S BRAIN GOING ON OVERDRIVE DOMESTICATION SLOW DOWN DUDE AHAHAHAHAHAHA

"I'm fine. Fine. Just... my brain's being stupid." He smirked at her from behind his hand. "You know... just being myself." She settled back, a frown on her face. "I don't think you're stupid." He moved his hand away from his eyes and rested his chin on it. "Thank you for thinking that." THAT IS PROBABLY THE FIRST TIME ANYONE'S EVER SAID THAT TO BOOMER AND IT BREAKS MY HEART TO PIECES

Blues being one in the same *_*

Those two control freaks being spontaneous together ❤

Brick sure is a chivalrous date...who'd have thought xD

Aaaaand mood killed. Leave it to Brick to think of Blossom as "fucking icing on the cake". THIS IS WHY YOU'LL DIE ALONE!

So I decided to split this chapter’s liveblog into 2 parts because I obviously cannot stop rambling and this first part was big enough xD

Click here for more awesome ships to cry over!

[hamiltimebinches]

Maria Reynolds and Reader: Help

A/n: This is my first time writing Maria, so forgive me if I got her personality wrong. Since it says and Reader it means it is a platonic relationship.

Timeline: Modern

Warnings: Swearing, cheating

Words: 1,272

     When it happened Maria was the first person I went to. She had gone through her share of things like this so I thought she would be the best person to comfort me. On top of that she was my best friend so I thought she’d be even more capable of comforting me through this hard time. I wasn’t wrong.

     You see what happened was first thing this morning when I entered my apartment I was met with an unpleasant and unwelcome surprise. I had spent the night at the Schuylers so I was excited to come home and tell my boyfriend about my night out with the sisters. He, unlike my past boyfriends, liked to listen to me talk on and on about my night. What I as met with upon walking into my room was another woman, another naked woman, on top of him in our bed.

     I was so shocked that I couldn’t say a thing, I just turned around and walked out. My boyfriend, now ex boyfriend, had called out after me like some cliche romance story. He even chased after me to the front door, half hopping so he could pull on his boxers. As my hand touched the door knob he grabbed it, making me turn around to face him.

     “Was I not enough?” I asked, not looking up at his face. I didn’t dare look up, if I did he would see my tears and I didn’t want him to think me of me as a crybaby. ‘W-What?” He asked, I guess I hadn’t spoken loudly enough. “I said, was I not enough? Was I not good enough for you because I didn’t want to have sex with you? Was I not good enough because I wanted to save sex for after marriage?” I seethed, still not looking up.

      “No, that’s not it.” He whispered, placing his hands gently on my arms. “Then what was it?” I questioned him. He didn’t reply he just started soothingly rubbing my arms. At least it would have been soothing if he hadn’t just cheated on me. “Did you do it because you hate me? Is that why you were fucking her so early in the day, around the time I would be returning? Or did you do it to not only to hurt me but to spite me because I didn’t want to have sex with you? I think that was the reason.” I said, hot angry tears rolling down my cheeks.

     “No, Babe, I love you. It was a mistake.” He said, continuing to rub my arms. I grit my teeth in anger. “Don’t call me that! You’re just like every other male! A horny son of a bitch that only cares about pleasuring himself and not anything else!” I screeched, slapping his hands off of me.

     In the corner of my eye I saw the woman standing in the doorway to the kitchen, covering herself with the bed sheets, she actually looked sorry. I don’t know whether she was sorry for what she did, probably not, or she just felt sorry for herself because they got caught. I glared at her and she immediately looked at her feet. “When I get back here you, your stuff, and your stupid bitch better be gone!” I growled, finally glaring up at the man I had sadly fallen in love with. Well, not anymore. He looked down at me, the look in his eyes almost replicating fear, and nodded his head quickly.

     After that I turned around and stormed out of my apartment. I, surprisingly, didn’t regret a single word I said. Normally after I cuss and yell at someone like that I start regretting it, but not this time. This time I actually feel good about it. As I exited my apartment building I took out my phone while going to the car garage I park my car in. Unlocking my phone, I went into my texting app and Maria’s contact. ‘I’m coming over, I hope you don’t mind. I really need someone like you right now though. My stupid boyfriend, now my ex, cheated on me and I’m going to need some comfort.’ I texted, finishing up and sending it as I made it to my car.

     I may only feel anger right now but by time I make it out of the city and to where Maria lives in Syracuse I’m going to be ready to ball my eyes out. It’s about a four hour drive from New York City to Syracuse, so I guess I’m going to at least spend the night at her place maybe even a few days. As I got in the car and turned it on Maria replied to my text. Opening up the app again I read her response. ‘Oh Sweetie, that’s terrible! Don’t worry I’ll have plenty of ice cream and movies to watch ready for when you arrive! I’ll also make sure to save up plenty of hugs and forehead kisses for you!’

     And she did, the moment I arrived she brought me into a big, warm, and tight hug. When she pulled away she kissed my forehead, the same way she did when we were kids and I was upset, some of her red lipstick probably rubbing off on my forehead. Maria then ushered me into the living room and onto the couch. She set up the first movie out of, like, twenty and then got the two tubs of ice cream and two spoons. She gave me first choice on the ice cream tubs and then we watched the movie, sometimes pausing it so I could whine and cry about how unfair everything was.

     “That was a roller coaster of emotions and I don’t want to experience it again.” I said as the ending credits rolled in on the screen. It was almost midnight and we were just finishing up watching Titanic. When Maria heard I had never watched it she practically had a hernia, I hadn’t seen why it was a big deal. She let out a laugh saying that she knew I’d say something like that. I laughed a little before shoveling a big spoonful of mint chocolate ice cream into my mouth. I was halfway through my second tub of ice cream and even though I knew it wasn’t good for me and that I’m going to get sick I didn’t care.

     “Okay, do you want to watch another movie, talk, or maybe go to bed?” Maria asked, getting up and removing the disc from the player and returning it to its proper case. “Go to bed.” I said through the ice cream, snapping the lid on the tub. “Okay then, I’ll go get an extra toothbrush for you and get the guest bed ready for you.” She said, walking out of the room.

     “Maria?” I called out, not letting her get far. “Yes?” She asked, peeking back into the room. “Can I just sleep with you tonight? Kind of like we used to as kids when I was scared.” I said, fidgeting with the tub in my hands. Maria smiled at me lightly. “Sure you can, Sweetie.”

      When we both were under the covers I curled up into my long time friend, she was almost like an older sister to me. Gripping her shirt, I rested my head on her shoulder. “Thank you Maria, for everything you do for me.” I whispered. “Of course, I’d do anything for you, Bunny.” She whispered, running a hand through my hair. I smiled at the childhood nickname and slowly drifted into the land of dreams.

[homeiswherethestuckis]

Waking Up

@royalrastafariannaynays thank you so much for this request!!!  I’ve never written Dirkjohn before so I was really happy to have an excuse to try and write one! 

(Unfortunately this ended up more like implied emotions and stuff and for that I am sorry)

I hope you like it!!  :D

Things have been...not good for you lately.  Getting up is hard.  Doing things is hard.  Even just reaching over to grab your phone so you can assure people you’re alright is hard.  

So you don’t.  You don’t do anything.  You just lay there.

You’re not even sleeping, you’re just staring as the light leaking through the sliver between your curtains shifts as the day progresses.  Your phone buzzes periodically, but you don’t check it.  It’s out of your reach.

You feel like shit.

Right now the sun is too bright to look at.  You could always get up and close the curtains more, but there’s no way in hell you’re leaving your bed.  You don’t have the energy to get up right now.  Besides, your bed is warm.  

You throw your blanket over your head and squeeze your eyes shut.  

It’s dark when you open your eyes.  There’s a pounding in your head that makes you want to scream even though you know that would only make it worse.  You grit your teeth and try to bury yourself further into your bed.  If your mattress chose this moment to pull a Nightmare on Elm Street and eat you, you don’t think you’d mind.

The pounding is getting worse.  You just want it to go away.

It takes awhile for your sleep-addled brain to comprehend that the pounding isn’t just in your head.  It’s at your door.

“It’s open.”  You croak.  You doubt whoever this douchebag is will be able to hear you over how loud they’re knocking.  Your voice cracks from disuse.

The knocking, surprisingly, stops.  

The door bangs against the wall.  You pull your head out from under your blanket so you can see who’s barging in and ask them to leave you alone.

“Oh shit.”  Dirk stomps down hard on the floor to keep himself from falling.

Well that’s a surprise.

“What the fuck is up with your door?”

“Nothing, it was unlocked.”  You mumble.  “That’s how unlocked doors are.  Did you seriously just try to break down my door?”

“That is a bullshit claim and you have absolutely no proof of that.”  He scuffs his shoe against the door frame.  “Clearly your door is loose or something.”

That’s a load of bull, but you don’t care enough about this to actually have an argument about it.  Besides, this is Dirk, you wouldn’t want to do that even if you were feeling okay.  “Clearly.  What the hell are you doing here, Dirk?”

He shoves his hands into his pockets.  “This is going to sound so fucking fake, but I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d check in and see what’s up.”

“That does sound pretty fake.”  You admit.  “But I’m fine.  Thanks.”

“You sure?  Because you look like shit.”

“Dirk, it’s dark and you’re wearing shades.  You can’t even see shit.”

“You’re right.”  You go blind for a minute as your room is suddenly flooded with light.  “And so was I, you do look like shit.”

You groan and throw the blanket back over your head.  “Dirk, what the fuck?  Go away, I’m trying to sleep.”

“Usually I would.”  You can hear him coming closer.  His steps are loud in the quiet of your room.  “I’m not some asshole who gets his kicks out of barging in and shoving my dick into people’s personal space.”

The bed springs creak, and the mattress gives under his added weight.  You scoot over a bit to make room.  

“Thing is, John, no one’s heard from you in days.  You just up and fucked right off the grid for awhile. ”  Dirk leans back, his arm is slung over your legs like that’s a casual thing to do.  It isn’t.  “You’ve been doing that a lot, apparently, and that’s not a problem in and of itself, but it’s kinda worrying people, dude.”

You start nudging him with your leg.  “Okay, I’ll make sure to text everybody.  You can go now.”

“I’m not too sure about that.”

And then your leg is pinned under Dirk and you can’t even move it anymore.  You wrench the blanket off your head so you can fix a glare at him.  “What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” he says, completely unphased by the way you’re trying to murder him with your eyes, “that I’m not planning on going anywhere.”

“Well why not?”  You sit up and try to push him off the bed, but he doesn’t budge.  “It’s not like I’m going to do anything, I’m just going back to sleep.”

“That’s exactly it, you’re not doing anything.  When was the last time you ate something, John?”

“Uh...”  When was the last time you ate?  You honestly can’t remember.  

Wow, what the fuck’s up with that?

“Shit dude, that’s not supposed to be a hard question.”  

“I know,” you snap, “I’m just trying to remember, give me a minute.”

Dirk shrugs.  “Fine, take your time.  I’ve got nowhere else to be.”

You go quiet while you try to think.  Dirk doesn’t say anything, but he stares at you the entire time.  Or at least, you think he’s staring at you, his shades are too dark for you to say for sure.

You finally admit defeat.  “Fuck.”

“That long, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess.  I don’t know.” You’re so hungry the space where your stomach should be feels like it’s completely hollowed out.  How did you not notice before this?  “What the hell.”

“You’re damn right, what the hell.”  Dirk sits up, and your legs are freed.  You could probably kick him off your bed if you wanted, but you don’t really care much about that anymore.  “You need to eat, John.”

“I know.”  You groan.  “What, though?  I don’t know how to fucking cook.”

“I’d offer, but I have the feeling you have nothing but absolute rat shit for food in your kitchen.”  You don’t even remember what you have in your kitchen.  “I could order a pizza?”

Your stomach’s growling just at the mention.  You suck it in and shove your fist against it in an effort to suppress the noise.  “Yes.  Pizza.  An extra large one with all the toppings on it.”  

“Alright,” Dirk gets out his phone and starts typing in a number, “extra large all topping pizza.”

“Except pineapple and anchovies.”  You add quickly.  “That gets its own pizza.”

Dirk doesn’t even look up from his phone.  “What size do you want that one?”

You only said it as a joke.  That’s not really something you’d like to admit, though.  Besides, maybe if you’re lucky, Dirk will try to eat it.

Fuck, that would be hilarious.

“Medium.”

“Okay.”  You just sit and watch as he places the order.  He stows the phone back in his pocket.  “It should be here in twenty.”

“Twenty minutes?”  You don’t know if you can stand another twenty minutes without something in your stomach.  “That’s forever from now.”

“Given that it’s pizza, it’s not actually that long of a wait.”  He replies.  “But I get what you mean.  Do you know if you have any snacks, or was I accurate with the rat shit comment?”

“There might be a loose bag of popcorn hiding behind some of the rat shit, but I don’t know for sure.”  You lean back against the headboard and blow a couple loose strands of greasy hair out of your face.  “I’ll go look for it in a minute.”

“You do that.”

Even with the thought of food as motivation, it takes you a few minutes to get yourself out of bed.  Dirk watches you leave and doesn’t say anything.  From the corner of your eye you think you can see him reaching for your laptop.

You drag your feet all the way down the stairs and to the kitchen.  The whole place is dark, but you don’t bother turning on any lights.  There’s just enough day light filtering in through the windows that it’s not necessary.  

Searching your kitchen takes longer than you thought it would.  You’re running on nothing but sleep and excess energy, so every move you make is sluggish and a little more careless than usual.  It’s like trying to maneuver your limbs like usual, only they were replaced with warm taffy while you were asleep.  

You have to push past empty cereal boxes and bags of what are probably inedibly stale chips to get to the single bag of popcorn in the very back of your cupboard.  The bag goes in the microwave, and the plastic wrap is tossed into your trash.  It’s close to overflowing.

Fuck, you need to clean your kitchen.  And go grocery shopping.  

Tomorrow maybe.

You grab a bowl, from the looks of it one of the only clean ones you have left, and dump the popcorn into it.  Just looking at it makes the hunger pangs in your stomach worse and you feel slightly light headed.  Seriously, how the fuck did you go this long without realizing how hungry you are?

You shake your head and carry the bowl back to your room.

“I’ve got popcorn.”  You announce upon entry.  Dirk doesn’t acknowledge you, apparently too preoccupied with whatever he’s doing on your laptop. “What are you doing?”

“What’s your opinion on Batman?” “He’s no Tick, but he’s alright.”  You take a seat on the bed.  “Why?”

“I figured we’re probably not going to be doing much, so we may as well watch something while we wait.”  He replies.  “You’re cool with Batman?”

“Yeah, I’m cool with Batman.” You nod and inch closer to him so you can see the screen better.

Dirk presses play.  You put the bowl of popcorn between the both of you and watch Batman fuck some shit up for Gotham’s resident bad guys.  You eat over half of the popcorn by yourself.

Your doorbell rings just as the credits start to roll.

“Perfect timing.”  Dirk crawls past you and gets off the bed.  “Don’t start the next episode without me.”

“Okay.  Hey, can you turn the lights off when you get back?  They’re bugging me.”

“Yeah, sure.”

While Dirk’s off getting the pizza, you put the bowl with what’s left of the popcorn on the floor.  You then make more room on the bed for where you assume the pizza will be.  

You press play when you hear Dirk coming so all he’ll really be missing is the theme song.  He’s carrying the pizza boxes in both hands, so he has to elbow the light switch to turn it off.  The room goes dark, the only source of illumination is from your screen.  

Dirk lays the pizza boxes on the middle of the bed and climbs back on beside you.  You’re opening both boxes the moment they’re put down.  

“Holy shit,” this is probably the hunger talking, but you’re pretty sure this is the best pizza you’ve ever had in your entire god damn life, “Dirk, I’m going to marry this pizza.  We’re in love now.”

Dirk snorts.  “Alright, you do that.”

He reaches over for a slice of pineapple anchovy hell pizza.  “Whoa, are you actually gonna eat that?”

Dirk stops, the pizza inches from his mouth.  The weight of the toppings cause the slice to dip slightly.  “Yes?”

“What the fuck, Dirk?”

He seems confused about your surprise.  He looks at the slice, then at you, and then the slice again.  “Fuck you?”

Before you can say anything more about it, he tears into the pizza and devours the whole thing in two bites.

“Dirk, oh my god!”  You can’t believe he actually fucking ate it.  You didn’t even have to do anything, he just did it.  What the fuck.  

You can’t stop laughing.  

“I don’t get what your deal is about me eating this.”  Dirk admits as he grabs a second slice.  “It’s just a pizza.”

He stares at you while he eats this one, too.  

This doesn’t help you contain your laughter at all.  “There is no fucking way that tastes good.”

He shrugs.  “It’s alright.  Here, you eat it.”

He offers you one, which you push back to him.  “No, you can keep it.  That one’s all yours, if you want it.”

He takes a bite of the slice he offered you and talks through a mouthful of anchovies and pineapple. “I do.”

You laugh. “Gross.”

You eat two and a half more slices of the other pizza over a period of two episodes of Batman before you have to call it quits.  Your stomach feels like it might explode if you even consider picking up another slice.  On top of that, all that pizza made you even more tired than you already were.

You groan and lean heavily against Dirk.  He doesn’t seemed bothered by this.  

“I take it you’re done, then?”  He was finished eating awhile ago.

“Yeah.”

“We should probably put these away.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you move.

“...later, though.”

“Yeah, later’s good.”

You keep watching the show.  You don’t really know what’s going on because you’re having a hard time focusing.  Mostly you’re just fighting to keep your eyes open.

You’re so tired.

You don’t know if it’s one or two episodes after you’re done with the pizza that Dirk gets a blanket because he’s cold and offers to share it with you.  You accept his offer gladly.

You don’t know if it’s the same episode or a later one when you realize that Dirk makes a surprisingly good pillow.

You do know that’s the last thought you had before you fall asleep.

You wake up later in pitch black and you feel...better than before.  Not amazing, not one hundred percent perfect, but still better.  A hell of a lot better.  

You feel well rested and warm and full, all of which are good things.  

Whatever you’re snuggled up with right now is also good.  You squeeze tighter and bury your face in fabric.

“Well you’re clearly awake.”

Holy shit you forgot it was Dirk.

You disentangle yourself immediately and sit up.  “How long was I asleep?”

“A couple hours.”  You can just barely make out his shrug in the dark.

“What time is it?”

“I don’t know.  Late?”  There’s some shuffling around.  He’s grabbing the pizza boxes.  “I should probably go.  I’ll throw these in your fridge on my way out.”

Dirk starts to get up.

Before you can think about it, your hand reaches out to grab his arm. “Wait.”  

Surprisingly, he does.  “What?”

“Why don’t you stay here?  Spend the night?”  The words are spilling out of your mouth faster than you can even think of what they mean.  “We could watch more Batman and you could sleep on me this time, or I do own pillows if you’d rather use those.  And later in the morning we can break out the pizza again and I could make you watch the Tick because I’m pretty sure you haven’t seen it yet and Dirk, that’s a crime to the superhero genre.  You need to watch it.”

He’s quiet.  

Your grip tightens unconsciously around his wrist.  You don’t want to be alone right now.

“I’d sleep in here?”  He finally says.

“Yeah,” you’re so fucking relieved, “unless you wanted to sleep somewhere else like the couch or the floor or something.  I probably have a sleeping bag stashed somewhere.”

“In here’s fine.  Could you let go of me?  I do have to put these in the fridge if we’re eating them tomorrow.”

“Right.”  You let go of his wrist.  Your palm is sweaty.  “Sorry.”

“I’ll be back in a sec.”  

Then he walks out.  You breathe a sigh of relief.  You don’t know what you would have done if he said no.  

You didn’t realize how much you were craving interaction and physical contact until it was almost gone again.

Dirk comes back just as you get the next episode of Batman up.  You have no idea what’s happened for the past however many episodes, but it probably doesn’t matter.  You settle in next to him under the blanket.  Your head’s leaning against his chest.  

An episode later, your hands meet.  Two minutes after that, your fingers intertwine.

An episode and a half after that, Dirk’s snoring next to you.  His breath smells god awful.  

Not that you can say much about that.  You can’t even remember when you showered last.

You squeeze his hand and  put on another episode.

You’re so fucking glad he stayed.

[dubujeongguk]

three minutes

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: fluff

length: 5k words, oneshot

summary: in which your friend hoseok is great in every way possible and only ever single for short periods of time, unfortunately for you.

Hoseok is a lot of things. He’s hilarious, beautiful, kind, compassionate, hard working and talented, if you could say so yourself. But if his name and any form of compliment slipped out of anyone’s mouth in the same sentence, he’d be nothing but humble; cheeks pinking and words of denial muttered under his breath. Although, everyone knew that deep down, he knows that it's all true. Something you’d say Hoseok didn’t know he was, though?

Your crush.

He’s hilarious, beautiful, kind, compassionate, hard working, talented and quite possibly the love of your life. And god help you, if he did know.-

It’s a bright and early Friday morning that sounds like robins singing from the trees and breakfast sizzling on the frying pan. You wake up to the sound of your alarm that is your favourite song at the moment and you grumble, literally rolling out of bed, your hair disheveled. You quickly tap on the phone’s screen before setting it down to carry out your morning routine.

As if on cue, your phone vibrates numerous times. Jin, you roll your eyes as you leave it to vibrate for what seems like forever.

Your best friend was talented. He could sing, act and could pass as a good dancer if you looked from afar. His fourth talent? “Double” texting (that was more like twenty-texting in his case).

Jin: hey Jin: are u awake Jin: ??????? Jin: why aren’t u replying to my texts Jin: ???????????//////// is this Jin: what 6? 7? Years of friendship means? Jin: not replying to tests Jin: texts* Jin: lmao tests Jin: ????????? I need to talk about something important Jin: ok fuck u I’ll ask someone else to come with me to Namjoon’s party Jin: binch

By the time you checked your phone, you were in front of your locker, putting your binders away and being glared at your by supposed mature, senior student best friend.

“All I’m asking is that you send your messages in sentences and that you don’t break up every word and send them as an individual text,” you said plainly, causing Jin glare at you even harder. “Anyways, why is Namjoon throwing a party?”

“Taehyung and Jimin somehow convinced him that people throw really late parties for Easter,” Jin replies, walking you to your class.

“A party for the lord that involves alcohol and possibly inappropriate dancing?” you ask, incredulously.

“…Yes.”

“…Nearly two months after Easter?”

“Okay listen, Namjoon is whipped for those kids,” Jin sighs in exasperation.

You shake your head and laugh at the idea. Surely there’s no way Namjoon could back out of this now that word has spread. There hasn’t been one party that Namjoon has thrown that wasn’t influenced by Taehyung, Jimin or Jungkook. The other thing that his parties had in common was that they didn’t involve you. Ever.

You were never a party animal and you pretty sure that you’d never become one. You didn’t drink, let alone grind at your school’s semi formal. Despite being invited to every single party, not once have you ever actually gone to one. “No thanks,” you reply curtly, pressing your lips together. “You know I don’t party, so I don’t know why this time’s any different,” you sigh, hanging outside your classroom’s door

“Morning,” you hear a voice behind you say, causing you to blush. That bright and welcoming voice could only belong to one person.

“Morning Hobi,” Jin greets back as you curse under your breath, turning around to face the man that God spent extra time in creating.

“Good morning,” you smile at your classmate, cheeks still tinted.

It wasn’t like you were so infatuated with him that you couldn’t hold a proper conversation. It was never like that; not once in the three years that you’ve liked him. It was difficult not holding a proper conversation with someone like him. Not to mention the fact that he was one of your closest friends.

But no matter who it was, Hoseok always made sure they were comfortable around him. He was like a grocery store’s automatic doors, as strange as it sounds; open and inviting.

“Ah sorry, I’d love to chat but I need to talk to the teacher,” Hoseok laughs, ruffling his brown hair. “Can I squeeze through?”

The two of you nod and allow him to pass, standing beside the door now.

“This difference is that Hoseok is going,” Jin whispers, smirking slightly, “as a single young man.”

The bell rings and Jin is suddenly running off into the distance, shouting something along the lines of see you at lunch. Sighing, you take your seat by the window that is conveniently right beside Hoseok.

A single Hoseok was rare and for good reason, seeing how beautiful he was, inside and out. The mere thought of having a chance with him made you red all over again. You slammed your face down on your desk and whined.

“You okay?” Hoseok asks, poking at your cheek and smiling.

You whined louder.

Today was going to be a long day.

It’s Tuesday evening and you have two multi-unit tests scheduled for Thursday. You’re beyond stressed and a part of you wants to give up, both on life and cramming. That is, until a certain someone comes to disturb you.

“Studying hard or hardly studying?” you hear Hoseok’s voice along with the sound of a chair scraping against the floor.

“Studying hard until you came,” you giggle, flipping to the next page of your book. “What are you doing in the library?”

“To see you,” Hoseok winks, nudging your side. You scoff and turn away, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling like an idiot. “Just kidding, I have a test tomorrow and my family was being way too loud.”

“And sitting with me will increase your productivity?” you raise a brow.

“Maybe,” Hoseok grins, showing off his pearly whites.

It doesn’t even take an hour until you’ve closed your books and abandoned all hope of learning. You somehow end up sharing a pair of earphones with Hoseok as you stream a horror movie on your laptop (the same one that you intended to use to create a study guide for an upcoming test).

You aren’t sure whose idea it was to do this, but you don’t think you care anymore if it meant spending time with your crush. Especially when you two were gripping each other’s hands so tightly, fearing that monsters would jump out of the screen.

By the end of the movie, you’re clinging onto each other in an involuntarily hug, cheeks practically pressed against each other’s. The end credits roll and it occurs to you just how intimate the two of you are. You clumsily peel yourself from the boy and mumble something about going home, pulling the earphone out.

Hoseok clears his throat and quickly collects himself, as if he wasn’t internally screaming thirty minutes ago. “Want me to walk you home?” he offers, beginning to stuff his things in his bag. “I mean, it’s getting dark out and I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

In your three or so years of friendship, this was the first time he ever offered to walk you home by himself. There were many instances when Jin walked you home, and even Taehyung and Jimin from time to time, but Hoseok was a first.

It’s the same old kind and caring Hoseok, you tell yourself. Always helping others. Nothing worth getting emotional about. He would do the same for anyone else.

“If it’s no trouble, I guess,” you grin, slipping on your backpack.

The two of you walk out of the library with his arm resting on top of your head and his pace slowing to match yours; just as he always has.

He’d do the same for anyone else, but that didn’t mean you felt any less self conscious.

“He’s never walked any girl home that he wasn’t interested in,” Jimin answers your question the following day, taking a bite of his sweet bun.

“Are you sure?” you ask again, grabbing the bun from his hands. “Isn’t he like? Mr. Nicest Guy on Earth who treats everyone like royalty?”

Jimin lets out a whine and snatches his lunch back. “I’m pretty sure. I only ever recall him walking home his girlfriends.”

You blink at Jimin in utter confusion, causing Taehyung and Seokjin to laugh in response. The gears in your brain were whirring in attempt to process what your friend just said. You weren’t a girl of interest to Hoseok. Sure, he had some interest in you, due to your status as close friends, but definitely not in that way. You were overcomplicating things and you knew it.

“Why do you want to know who Hoseok walks home anyways?” Jungkook muses, scratching his head dramatically. The tone of his voice seemed to be laced with more sarcasm than curiosity.

Seokjin shoots you a knowing smile while Taehyung and Jimin snicker beside him. You simply pout your lips in response and cross your arms.

“Yeah, why do you want to know who Hoseok walks home?” Taehyung teases, poking your side.

“Who wants to know what about Hoseok?” the man himself inquires, placing a carton of strawberry milk in front of you. You hide your face with your hair as he pulls up a seat beside you, Namjoon and Yoongi following behind.

You turn away from him and grumble. “Nobody wants to know anything about you!” you hiss, fed up with everybody (including yourself). Picking up your bag, you stomp away in embarrassment in attempt to find a place to think.

There’s a hint of confusion and hurt written on Hoseok’s face when you leave the cafeteria without accepting his tiny act of kindness. “I thought you guys said she likes strawberry milk,” he grimaces.

Namjoon can’t help but to crack up at your outburst and Hoseok’s defeated posture.

“Could they be any more obvious?” Yoongi complains to no one in particular, propping a hand underneath his chin.

“You know what I hate? Math,” Jungkook complains loudly, as you all walk to your regular snack shop. “And English and science and social studies and…”

“So you hate school?” Yoongi interjects, browsing through his phone, tripping over a twig.

“No. I like P.E,” Jungkook retorts with a furrow of the brows, paying no mind to Yoongi’s condition.

Your friends talk over each other as they always do and it feels like you’re in the middle of busy down town. You walked slower than they did and for some freakish reason, you were the only girl in their circle of friends. Occasionally, they’d have conversations that you had no idea on how to contribute to. It’d be a lie if you didn’t feel excluded sometimes, but it couldn’t be helped.

This time you didn’t think minded as much, your thoughts elsewhere; that somewhere being the concept of having a chance with Hoseok. Jin’s suggestion at lunch resonated in your head. Just pull him aside at the party and confess,” he had said. “It’s almost the end of school and I’m not going to be here next year. It’ll just be you and Hoseok.” It all sounded ridiculous to you still.

“You seem kind of down today,” Hoseok comments, adjusting his steps to walk beside you, tilting his head to catch your eyes. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you smile. “Just thinking.”

“Want me to think with you?” he offers, throwing an arm around you and drawing you closer. Something he often did to remind you he was there if you needed him. “You seem stressed. What’s on your mind?”

You.

“I was just thinking about my assignments due after the weekend,” you lie through your teeth.

“I see,” he pouts a little. “I wish I could help you, but I’m swamped too,” he laughs. A sound that you’ve become very attached to.

“But speaking of weekends, are you going to Namjoon’s next Saturday?” Hoseok asks, catching your eyes.

“Maybe.”

You weren’t the only one who found Hoseok captivating. In fact, everyone did. This was common knowledge around the school. But when you heard your friend talk about him after class one day, you suddenly felt uncomfortable.

“He’s really cute,” your friend said to you. “I’d date him, no hesitation.”

“Well, I mean he’s been single for a couple of months. You definitely could,” another classmate added. “I was thinking about hooking up with him, to be honest.”

“Do you think he does hook ups though?”

“We’ll see about that,” the girls laughed.

A feeling of anxiety washed over you the more your peers spoke about him. It didn’t take long for you to excuse yourself from the conversation due to what you called a forgotten guidance counsellor appointment.

Hearing others talk about Hoseok made you feel unnecessarily jealous. He wasn’t your boyfriend. What right did you have to be angry at those girls?

None.

It still hurt though.

“I don’t think I want to go anymore,” you tell Jin over video call, burying your face in your favourite plush toy. It’s Friday night and the more you thought about the party and confessing to Hoseok, the less you wanted to go. There were only two ways things could go; either Hoseok accepts you or rejects you. But the very idea of him rejecting you made you dizzy.

Jin reprimands you in more ways than one, but you’re not sure if you can handle the heart ache if Hoseok doesn’t reciprocate.

“Listen, I know it’s overwhelming, but you have to do this eventually,” Jin softens, seeing you in distress over video call. “So what if he rejects you? At least you’ll know to stop wasting time and affection over him.”

“I hate you,” you mumbled into teddy bear, slouching in your chair.

You often hated Jin when he was right.

“Can you just throw on some jeans or something so we can go?” Jin groans loudly, laying in your bed as you rummage through your closet.

“Listen punk, this is my first high school party and I intend on looking good at it,” you hiss, taking out the tenth shirt of the night.

“You know we still have to pick up our three children right?” he reminds you, as he rolls off the mattress to help you look for an outfit. “Taehyung has texted me three times already asking where we are and I’ve told him three times that we have yet to leave your house.”

You let out a cry and drop to the floor. Parties weren’t your thing; they stressed you out and you knew that better than anyone. But how was it that you were stressed about a party before you even got there?

“Okay here,” Jin says, shoving a pair of cute shorts you forgot you had and a crop top into your lap. “Nothing says summer like showing some skin,” he deadpans, as he shoves you into your washroom. “If you come out and you don’t look as nice as I thought you would, just throw on my jacket and let’s go. Got it? Good.”

The moment you arrive at Namjoon’s castle of a house, the place is already half trashed with a good quarter of party goers wasted. Music is blaring in all directions and you aren’t sure how none of the neighbours have made a complaint yet. Or maybe it was because they were attending the party too. Who even knew at this point?

Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook practically jump out of the car and run off to god knows where once the car is parked, leaving you with your best friend. The scent of alcohol and perfume is heavy in the air and you’re pretty sure you want to go home, but you came here with a purpose and you refused to leave without fulfilling it.

“Come on, let’s go find your man,” Jin jokes, taking your hand and dragging you into Namjoon’s home. Your best friend holds onto your hand tight so you don’t get lost in the mess of people, as you whip your head around looking for him.

Unfortunately, Seokjin’s tight isn’t tight enough and suddenly you’re surrounded by mostly unfamiliar faces and some you rarely interact with, never mind the only one you wanted to see tonight.

“Hey,” someone greets you, pulling you in from the crowd for a quick side hug. You look up in shock, letting out a breath when you realize it’s just Namjoon. “You look good. How’s your first party going? I only throw the best.”

“It’s… going,” you reply, scrunching up your face. What Namjoon considered the best parties probably meant the worst experience for you. “I lost Jin and now I’m just kind of… here.”

Namjoon ruffles your hair and chuckles. “Go socialize,” he lightly chides. A voice calls for him from across the room and your conversation is cut short, much to your dismay. “Hold on,” he shouts back. “I have to deal with something right now but if you need anything, text me. At least try to have fun, okay?” Then he was off, ditching you in the corner of the living room.

To say that you didn’t try to have fun would be a lie, because you really did. But despite how hard you tried to mingle with drunkards and dance to the extremely loud EDM blasting from the speakers, you just couldn’t. You felt uncomfortable, lonely and far too sweaty for your liking. You were out of your element and soon enough, out of Namjoon’s home.

You rub your hands against your arms when the summer air hits and frown. You wonder just what on earth you would do now, especially considering the unlikelihood of finding your crush in a house of what felt like a thousand people. Perhaps you would confess another day—or maybe never, you think bitterly.

Sending Jin a quick text letting him know where you are and to not worry, you proceed to go wherever your legs would take you. Just as long as it wasn’t here.

“Hey,” someone calls out to you, not even a second after you reach the sidewalk. When you turn around, you find a slightly out of breath Hoseok in front of you, dazzling smile and all.

“Hey,” you blush, slightly embarrassed that you’ve been caught leaving the party before its climax and partially due to how gorgeous your crush looked.

“I’ve been looking for you all night,” he confesses, shoving his hands in the pockets of the black bomber jacket you liked so much.

“Why?” you laugh in response, timidly running your fingers through your hair.

“I figured you would want company at your first party. But I guess you don’t need me anymore,” he answers, noticing that you were trying to leave. “Are you alright?” Hoseok softens, concern apparent on his face.

“Yeah, just a little overwhelmed,” you bite your lip, fiddling with the hem of your sleeve. “What about you though? You haven’t been looking for me all this time, right? What are you doing out here?”

“I guess I got overwhelmed too,” he admits, voice quieter than before. You aren’t sure how someone as extroverted as Hoseok could possibly get overwhelmed by a party, mostly since he’d been to them tonnes of times before. It doesn’t make sense but you don’t question it; not when the enthusiasm in his voice returns.

“Let’s leave,” Hoseok beams, catching you off guard.

“What?”

“You heard me,” he chuckles.

“Are you sure? Won’t your friends miss you? And like, basically every person in Joon’s house right now?

Hoseok bites back a smile and shakes his head. “Nope. And besides, there’ll be other parties. I’m not too sure about parties involving you though.”

“Where would we even go?” you mumble.

“Why don’t we find out?”

“Stop! You’re so ugly,” you screech, rolling around the grass from laughing so hard.

Hoseok doesn’t though. He continues to dash towards the huge oak tree the two of you have been laying under for the past hour, trying to run up it.

“You won’t do it, Hobi,” you shout, sitting up. “There’s absolutely no way that you can get up to that branch without using your hands.”

When Hoseok slips down for the third time, you can’t help but to crack up again. “Okay fine, maybe I can’t do it right now, but just watch! One day, I’ll climb this tree and you’ll rue the day you doubted me,” he argues, sitting back down beside you, leaning against the tree.

“Alright, jungle-man Hoseok,” you snicker. “I’ll be waiting until then.”

Night has fallen and the stars have begun to make their appearance on the stage that is the sky, joining the moon in its performance. The summer air is crisp and smells like a medley of flowers. It’s a little chillier than it was before so you pull your legs in and wrap your arms around them, trying to conserve whatever warmth you had before.

“Are you cold?” Hoseok questions, not even waiting for an answer to drape his jacket over your shoulders.

“I was,” you laugh. “Thanks.”

“No,” Hoseok stares at you and smiles. “Thank you.”

A part of you swears he was looking at your lips, even just for a second, but you rid your head of the thought. “For what?” you prompt.

“Tonight,” he grins, shifting his gaze to what lies above. “Whatever tonight was, I guess.”

You lean back and let out a contented sigh. “I feel the same way.”

“No, but like seriously. Thank you,” he continues, eyes still focussed on the sky. “Truthfully, I’ve been feeling really lousy lately with all this stress building up and I think today it just got too much. Too many people, too many conversations, too many fears, too many emotions, too many things to keep up with… I think I burned myself out from trying to stay so positive all the time,” he whispers, closing his eyes.

Hoseok’s smile finally falters for the first time tonight and what feels like the first time in forever. There was not even a trace of a smirk on his lips. Hoseok smiled a lot and that made you smile too. Everything he did subconsciously made you smile. Hence, with his face was void of any emotion at this moment, only having dark circles and shut eyes on display, it dawned on you.

Perhaps you were too blinded by your own happiness that you didn’t notice that his grins were just a forced tug of the lips. He feels lonely sometimes too; he faces hardships just like anybody else. He isn’t obligated to feel certain emotions for the sake of others.

Hoseok is a lot of things, but a robot is not one.

“Then don’t,” you blurt out. Your hands clench into fists from frustration; frustration that Hoseok refused to express. “Don’t burn yourself out. If you’re unhappy, say it. Do something about it. You don’t owe anything to anybody.”

“I’m sorry, I think I got too heated,” you grimace, relaxing your body. “I just… want you to be happy.” you trail off.

“Thank you,” Hoseok whispers, as he gives a small smile. A real one, you think.

It’s probably midnight by now but you don’t think you care. You thank Seokjin in your head and watch clouds float by, wondering if you would ever be blessed with another night like this. Everything felt perfect.

Hoseok hums your name and you immediately turn to face him, awkwardly tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

Every time he said your name it felt like your heart would jump out of your chest. It was a foolish wish, but whenever you heard it come out of his mouth, you wanted him and only him to say it.

“Your friend confessed to me the other day,” Hoseok says all of a sudden, your face going pale. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot but it’s like, what have I got to lose right? What do you think?”

A silence falls between the two of you, save for the sound of your heart shattering resounding in your head. The park is calm as the moon shines down on the earth, all of the stars in the world shimmering from the distance. When you look at Hoseok, it looks as if a halo forms at the crown of his head as he’s basked in moonlight, eyes fixated on the glistening sky above.

Everything is beautiful and you hate it. It’s as if the heavens were reminding you of things you never forgot. No matter how close you are to perfection; you’ll never have it.

Hoseok would never be yours.

“They say that if you look someone in the eyes for three minutes, you’ll fall in love,” you mutter under your breath, drawing Hoseok’s attention away from the stars.

“Yeah?”

“So why is it that every time I look at you, it feels like my heart is breaking?”

The night is far too stunning for you to hurry back to Namjoon’s house; too wonderful for you to call your best friend in a shaky voice.

Tonight is too magnificent for you to have your heart broken, after finally believing you had a chance.

Life was too cruel sometimes.

It’s been a month since you last spoke to Hoseok. After the weekend of Namjoon’s party, you went ghost. You sat at the front of the class and left immediately when the bell rang. You avoided the cafeteria for the most part, opting to eat wherever Hoseok didn’t. You took the long way home and stayed in on weekends. Every time you made eye contact, or came within five feet of Hoseok, you ran.

The first week was the hardest. Wherever you went, he would go too. You didn’t want to hear what you already knew. It was bad enough hearing about his interest in your classmate. You didn’t need any more clarification. You didn’t need to be rejected twice.

By the second week, you took extra care in avoiding him. You walked exceptionally slow in hallways to check the surrounding area and practically sprinted, leaving the school building.

The third week went by quickly. The loneliness began to settle in, but you did whatever you could to keep your mind off of it. Loneliness was better than heartache. You hated the way you were acting, but it felt like the only thing you could do was cut off all contact with Hoseok.

Your only saving grace from total isolation was Seokjin.

“It’s been like three weeks, you can’t keep running away from him forever,” Jin said to you one night, standing over your bed.

“As long as I still have legs, no chance,” you protest, as you hide under your covers. “I’m not having this conversation.”

“Everyone’s been wondering where you’ve been,” he continues, rolling you out of your blanket cocoon.

“Let them.”

Seokjin huffs at your stubbornness. Despite anything he had to say, you would remain static. There was less than a month until summer vacation and that was all the time you needed to get over Hoseok. Your only issue was waiting for the time to arrive. Summer vacation meant two months to do whatever you could to get over Hoseok.

That’s what summer vacation was supposed to be, at least, until one fateful night, days before school ended.

“Where’s Jin?” you ask with a practically shaky voice, legs pulled close to your body as you sat on the grass. You felt a sense of déjà vu that you desperately wanted to shake off.

“Not here,” Hoseok answers apprehensively, looking at the ground.

“Oh I see,” you mutter, immediately standing up. You weren’t stupid; you knew what was happening. You thought it’d be easier seeing him after all that time, but it wasn’t. If anything, it hurt more. It made you wonder if all your efforts were futile. Your heart was wavering again.

Hoseok scrambles to hold you back, willing you to look at him. “No wait,” he pleads, retracting his hand from your arm. “Give me five minutes. No, I lied, ten. I just need ten minutes of your time. Please.”

Your brain was screaming at you to walk away, or to better yet, run, but none of that mattered if your feet were planted to the ground. “Okay,” you whisper. Hoseok gives you a tiny, appreciative smile; something that still makes your heart flutter, you notice.

“I’m sorry I thought I was being obvious about how I felt about you for the longest time,” he apologizes, clutching the back of his neck. “I guess not, huh? Here’s me being as clear as I can be then.”

Taken aback is an understatement of how you feel. Your voice is stuck in your throat, every word ready to spill out just on the tip of your tongue. You couldn’t comprehend what was happening.

“I like you. I’ve always liked you. And at this moment, I really, really like you and I hope you still mean the words you said that night at the party.”

“You mean when I told you it felt like my heart was breaking just looking at you?”

“No,” Hoseok shakes his head, taking your hands into his. “When you told me if you look someone in the eyes for three minutes, you’ll fall in love.”

It feels like your heart is about to explode, when he locks his eyes on yours and starts counting from one. There’s a certain glint in his eye that speaks volumes, but you can’t seem to understand with the sound of your heartbeat drowning everything out.

By sixty seconds, you’re sure your cheeks are on fire and that your hands have become clammy, but Hoseok never breaks his gaze or releases your hands. If anything, you swear his grip tightens. You want to look away but you’re frozen in place and lost in his everything.

By a hundred and twenty, Hoseok steps closer, intertwining your fingers with his. His voice is low and smooth and music to your ears. As if that wasn’t enough, you’re drowning in the scent of his cologne and his very existence itself.

“179… 180,” Hoseok whispers, resting his forehead against yours. “Do you love me again?”

It doesn’t take you another three minutes to kiss him.

“I don’t think I stopped.”

[italicwatches]

[legacy content] My Hero Academia - Episode 03

Got a whole pile of things to get done today. But the best place to start, naturally, is with one of my Japanese anime. It’s My Hero Academia, episode 03! Here we GO!

-We begin, with All Might. A paragon of heroism, the number one hero, the Superman figure of this setting. His age and actual Quirk are unknown; What is known, is his very existence has become the symbol of heroism, the thing that finally made the terrible chaos of the world break down, that made the sky-high crime rates begin to drop…And this man, just told Izuku he could be a hero.

-And that he, is worthy of inheriting All Might’s power. …What?

-Opening! Also I know we’re gonna meet them later and so I don’t want to talk too much about them with just the opening to go off of, but the designs of Izuku’s presumed hero peers are really great. They’re visually striking enough to make an impression when they’re literally on screen for only a few frames. Who’s doing the art for the original manga?

-So Izuku would like to know what the hell All Might means. What he means is, kid, you’ve got a choice to make. A choice of whether or not to accept this…Because it’s not going to be easy. He’s never told anyone the exact nature of his power…But you, you deserve to know. His Quirk, his power, was passed on to him by another. And he, too, can pass it on, to someone worth it…And he feels Izuku is worthy.

-Izuku, who has no idea how to parse this, because it goes entirely, completely against every single thing he knows about Quirks, of the very nature of them…But that’s what you need to understand. His actual Quirk, his true power, is not the muscles or the strength. It’s the power, to transfer power. A power that in and of itself, can be transferred…The Quirk One For All. To take on strength from the cries of the people, spiral it out, become powerful…And to give that strength to others. That is how he is who he is.

-And who deserves that power more, than the boy who ran into danger despite having no power? The boy who raced into the fray, to face the very same thing that had nearly killed him not two hours previous, because it had someone else in its grasp? You do not have power, yet, Izuku. But you are more a hero than any of the ones you raced past to help that boy!

-But of course, the decision is up to Izuku. The question of whether you will take this on. You don’t need to…But if you’re willing…

-And so Izuku rises…And makes his decision. He’ll, fucking, do it!

-Episode 03! Roaring Muscles

-Two days later, at sunrise, Izuku is out at a beachside park…Trying to haul a literal fridge with All Might sitting on it. In proper All Might shape, too, not No Might. Unsurprisingly, Izuku can’t move the thing an inch. It doesn’t help that All Might weighs 255 kilograms, or 562 pounds of solid muscle. And Izuku would like to know why he’s even doing this.

-Because you don’t have the muscle bulk to hold One For All. If you tried to muscle up with it right now, you’d…Well your limbs would explode in gore, to be blunt about it. So! You need to Have the kind of body that can handle it! Also, you’re doing some good. Being a hero, is being a public servant. It’s not about the flash in the pan villain-fighting, it’s not about getting your face on magazine covers, it’s about making this better for people. This part of the beach is, as you can see, covered in trash…As All Might talks, he just casually crushes the fridge like a fucking beer can. And what he wants to see Izuku do, is clear this beach of all this heavy trash.

-It’s more like a dump or a junkyard, garbage and bullshit piled high, as he realizes just what he’s going to have to do…And All Might says that it’s not easy at all to get into even the lighter hero schools. And you want to go to UA, his old alma mater in the world of heroics. The hardest one in the country. The entrance exam is, as Izuku knows, in ten months. Ten months to have a body that can be infused with One For All.

-Which is why he’s put together a training plan. It’s going to be hard as hell, as Izuku knows all too well. But Izuku’s used to working his ass off for every scrap…And so work he does, over ten months of utter hell, carting everything from massive filing cabinets to old tires out of the beach item by item…His schoolwork suffering because of lack of sleep, but at this point his schoolwork is pure make-work if he can get into UA…

-And so his mind instead focuses on the math, the calculations of how efficiency. The days he has left to work, the hours in those days, the ways to build up enough efficiency…As people start hearing his internal monologue turning external, as he’s so focused on his hard work that he doesn’t even realize…

-And so it keeps up, and he keeps working, eating extra protein as prepared by his mother(who has gone from slim young mother, to plush maternal figure, in the ten-odd years since that fateful doctor visit), working before and after school, getting barely enough sleep to stay functional…He just needs enough that it doesn’t hurt his recovery. The psychological difficulties don’t matter. The fatigue doesn’t matter. He works minor workouts in where he can, even taking small weights and those squeeze springs to school to use with his one hand while writing with the other…

-until one day, he’s hauling along a big heavy thing with No Might at his side…And then he just drops, with three months left. His body’s hitting its limits…But then he continues to struggle, trying to get up…As he realizes Izuku’s not undergoing it, he’s overdoing it. Because he has to prove himself. It’s not enough to skate over the bottom line…He has to be able to make a fucking statement. He has to be able to not just be an also-ran hero…But a great hero, like the man he so admires!

-And All Might, in full bulk, respects his fire…To look so far into the future, to have such ambition, is great, young man. And if that’s what you want, then he’ll adjust the plan, find your safe limits and keep you right at those limits for the next three months! You won’t get there with the scores he had at entrance, but you’ll be well on your way!

-Until, eventually…The day of the entrance exam, six AM. And as the sun rises, Izuku, with a body built like steel cording, has, fucking, finished. This shitty beach…Is clear!!! He just about collapses off the last pile of garbage, when All Might catches him…And you did good, kid. You did great. You’re ready! Look at this. This is how you looked ten months ago. Now look at you…Look at that body! You can DO this!

-Izuku is overwhelmed, feeling like he couldn’t have done it without All Might, feeling like he’s got an edge he doesn’t deserve…But All Might disagrees. A gift you receive because you are lucky, and a gift you receive because someone recognizes what you can achieve with it, are two very different things. You did not receive his aid because of luck, or happenstance. You received it, because you proved yourself. And so All Might plucks a single hair off of his head, full of his power…And tells Izuku to eat it. Wait what? You need his DNA in you and this is the least strange way to do it, young Izuku! Now eat the hair!

-Commercial break!

-And we’re back! it’s a few hours later, 8:40 AM. Izuku’s gotten a couple hours of sleep, enough to be functional, but he hasn’t even been able to test that power…For all he knows, he won’t achieve anything…And that’s when Katsuki stomps past him, full of angry fire. And people are talking about him already…But for all Katsuki’s a brute, Izuku also has to admit, in the last ten months, the guy hasn’t touched him. Ten months that he used, to become strong…And now, he’s got to take the first step…

-Except he trips.

-Shit.

-But he’s saved! By a young lady whose Quirk lets her keep him stable, and she wishes him good luck before heading on in to get her own test started…And Izuku feels fired up, having just talked to a real girl! You said “um uh wha”, kid.

-And then it’s inside, where an entertainer of a ‘hero’ starts walking them through the process…You’ll be doing mock battles in urban environments! You can take whatever you like with you into the field, but you’ve gotta go fast. And it seems the assignments have been completely random, as Izuku and Katsuki were directly consecutive on their examinee numbers, but got completely different places to go…Makes sense, though. You want to force kids to adapt, not to work with the same strategies and tricks they’ve been learning with their friends for their whole lives.

-Each battlefield will have three types of mechanical ‘villains’, of three difficulties! Earn points by defeating the various mechanical foes! When a student points out that their syllabus includes four villain types, not three. Yep, that’s true. The fourth villain is the hardest…And yer worth zero points! It’s an obstacle to try and avoid, that will actively try to slow you down and ruin your efforts…

-Now, before you go, a motto. Something to live your life by. A true hero is someone who overcomes life’s misfortunes. So do exactly that, young prospective students, and overcome the difficulties!

-And soon, Izuku is at one of the battle centers, amongst a whole crowd…And he’s nervous as hell…But it’s here that he’s going to see everything he’s really made of…!

-Credits!

You fuckin’ got this, Izuku. Take that fire in your chest, and let it burn brighter than the stars above!

We’ll see if he can actually do it next time, though, in episode FOUR of My Hero Academia! Wait for it!

[homeiswherethestuckis]

Filet Mignon

@notedchampagne man, I hope there’s enough fluff in this to make up for the lame title.

You and Karkat have plans to watch every single fucking movie he has downloaded on his husktop before you head off the meteor.  If you’d known how many he had at the time (a literal metric fuck ton) you wouldn’t have agreed to this so easily.  It’s too late to back out of that agreement now, you’ve already clocked so many that to give up now would mean that you’d essentially wasted hours of your valuable time sitting on this couch watching the two blatantly obvious love interests go through some usually not that difficult but extremely convoluted situations in order to finally be together in the end.  Besides, after watching so many of them you realized you really don’t mind them as much as when you thought you would. You definitely like them more than when you first got here.  You’re kinda getting the appeal to all the romance and a happy ending that’s practically ensured the moment the protagonists make eye contact.

The only problem is that they can get so repetitive.  If you’ve watched one, you’ve watched them all, and you’ve watched way more than one god damn romcom.  You might not hate them, but watching so many in succession is making you bit sick of them.  It really makes you question how Karkat can do this all the time and still like them.  You know he’s marathoned all these flicks more than once.  Fuck, some of them he must have seen at least ten times by now.  

Once this movie ends, you think you’ll see if he wants to take a break and do something else.  Go see what the Mayor’s up to, grab some food, whatever.  You think after a breather you’ll be more willing to pick this back up again and watch Dane Cook act like a bumblingly charming idiot for a cute girl real soon.  Right now though, you’re not interested in his shit.  You are physically incapable of caring and less about the dumb situation the characters have gotten themselves into than you do at this moment in time.

This is the fifth romcom you’ve watched today, and you are so.  fucking.  bored.

You slump against the couch’s armrest and prepare for an hour and a half of zoning out.  The beginning credits aren’t even over yet when Karkat slides his hand into yours and squeezes, drawing your attention back out of your head and over to him.  His face is bathed in the light from his husktop, made garishly bright by the rest of the room being shrouded in total darkness.  He’s not looking at you, his eyes are fixed unblinkingly on the screen.  

Karkat’s grip on your hand tightens.  “This one’s my favorite.”

“Oh.”  You push yourself up off the armrest and force yourself to pay attention.  “Shit, guess I better pay extra careful attention to this one so I can make fun of you for your awful taste in movies some more.”

Karkat rolls his eyes.  “You say that, but I don’t see you complaining about them when we’re actually watching these.  In fact, you only gripe endlessly about me “forcing” you to watch one of my pieces of “shit-tacular cinematic drivel” when one of the girls is within earshot.  If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you like romcoms, Dave.”

“It’s a good thing you know better, then.”  You reply.  Karkat’s hand is warm and making yours sweaty.  You want to wipe it off, but that would require letting go.  “Maybe you’re not as stupid as you look, after all.”

“That’s rich, coming from the guy who looks like a garbage monster and a douchebag hipster had a grub, slathered it in chunky mucus, chewed it up, regurgitated it and gave it a pair of lady shades too big for its fucking gross face.”

“Said the piece of literal talking shit.”

“Wow.  Such an excellent and witty comeback about the state of my character.  That’s so amazing for a creature that doesn’t even have two pan cells to rub together.”

“It’s funny that you mention that, because I actually am rubbing those two brain cells together in my fingers as we speak in order to play the saddest song ever composed.  Just for you.  Do you wanna know what the song’s called, Karkat?”

He tears his gaze away from the movie and squints.  “I don’t know, Dave, do I?”

“Probably not, but I’m going to tell you anyway.” You hold up your free hand and start rubbing your fingers together.  “It’s called Ode to a Dumb Cranky Stink Crab.”

“I’m not hearing anything.  This only proves my point that your dumb ass doesn’t have any pan cells to speak of.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong.  You probably aren’t aware of this on Alternia since I doubt your culture made room for even the basic concept of music while you were busy making puns and conquering planets or whatever the fuck it was that you did, but performing a piece a la brain cell was a highly controversial topic back on Earth.  The thing with playing a song on the brain cell is that it has such a high frequency that only those with functioning brain cells could actually fucking hear it.  In other words, pretty much no one.”

“I can’t believe you just pulled all of that shit straight out of your ass just so you could say I’m stupid again.”  He snorts.  “Well played, shit stain.  Though I’d like to point out, you never did respond to my first inquiry.”

“And what was that again?  We do this insult thing so often I forgot what we were initially insulting each other over.”

“What I was saying before you turned this into a battle of which of us is the dominant walking bomb of dumbstink, I was saying that despite your endless string of complaints about them in front of everybody else, you actually really like romcoms.  Admit it, Dave, you like them.  Why the fuck else would you spend so much time sitting here watching them with me if you didn’t like them at least a little?”

“Gee, I don’t know, dude, fuck, I guess you got me.  Clearly there’s no other explanation for why I would sit here and watch these.”  You reply sarcastically.  “But now that I think about it, another more definitely right reason springs to mind.  Hey, maybe I’m sitting here watching all of this shit because, and I’m just spitballing here, I like you?”

“Oh.”  He turns back to the screen, but you can tell he’s not really focused on what’s going on.  You think his face might be a darker shade of gray than it was before, but it’s hard to tell without more lights on.  “That’s-”

“Shocking, I know.”  You squeeze his hand again.  You’re no longer sweating, thank fuck, but you can’t imagine how gross the feeling of another person’s cold and drying sweat on your hand must feel like to Karkat, so you still want to wipe it off.  “Your boyfriend likes you.  What a twist.”

“So you’re only watching these because you like me and wanted to spend more time with me?”  From his tone he sounds less happy about this than you expected.  

You shrug.  “Yeah.  At least the first few times it was that, coupled with poking fun at you about them later.  I’ll be honest, after awhile they kinda grew on me.”  Which isn’t too surprising, since Karkat also grew on you.  “They’re not my favorite movies, but I don’t mind them.”

“Dave, this is the fifth one I’ve put on today, how the hell can you not mind that?"  Karkat brings his hand to his forehead and drags it down his face in what has to be the most exaggerated facepalm you’ve ever borne witness to.  His other hand twitches in yours, and there’s not a doubt in your mind that if you’d let go this would have become a double facepalm.  “Fuck, I thought you looked bored earlier, but I didn’t do anything because I figured you would have said something about it.”

“Now that you mention it, I was going to suggest we do something else for awhile after this one.”  You admit.

“But you said you’re mostly tolerating these because of me.  Aren’t you bored by now?”  He asks, his eyebrows knitting together into a worried line.  “I can turn it off and we can go fuck around in Can Town or something.”

“Okay one, I never said I was just tolerating them, don’t twist my words into a pretzel and put them in my mouth, that shit’s not cool.  Two, you said this one’s your favorite, like fuck I’m gonna make you turn it off that would just be a dick move.  Three, yeah, I’m a little bored,” more than a little.  Before you started talking you weren’t sure if you were even going to make it through this movie, “but that’s my own damn fault, I can deal with that.  And my fourth and final point, how the hell do you expect me to cuddle up to you during a movie if there’s no god damn movie to cuddle up during?”  You poke him in the forehead with your free hand.  “Come on, Karkat, you gotta consider this shit before you do it.”

He rubs at the spot you poked and smiles, your hand gets squeezed again.  “Fine, I’ll leave the movie on.  Only if you make do on that cuddling you just promised me.”

“Believe me, I had no intention of jipping you out of any of this prime cuddle time. Mark my words, babe, I’m gonna wrap around you like bacon on a filet mignon.”

“I don’t know what the fuck that is.”  

“Doesn’t matter, all you need to know is that it’s the fucking best and we’re going to be it.”  You collapse against him without another word and the sudden addition of your weight against him sends him sprawling onto his back.  You faceplant right into his chest, and you take this opportunity to bury your face in his shirt.  It’s really soft.  

“So, are we doing it?”  Karkat laughs.  “Are we filet mignon now?  Is that happening, is that what this is?”

“Fuck yeah, bitch we are the filet mignon!”  You hold out a fist expectantly.  

Karkat has to wiggle his arm free from where it’s pinned under you so he can bump your fist.  “Hell yeah!”

He frees his other arm and wraps both of them around you.  You’re so glad your face is hidden because there’s no way your face isn’t red as a god damn tomato at this point.  You swear you can even feel your ears burning.  

“I can feel your heartbeat on my face.”  You mumble, uncertain if you’re speaking loud enough for Karkat to hear.  His heart’s beating so fast it feels like someone trapped a hummingbird inside a drum.  You burrow deeper into his chest.

“Hm." One of Karkat’s fingers is tapping against your back.  You don’t know if he’s doing it on purpose or not, but it feels nice and you hope he doesn’t stop.  “Aren’t you uncomfortable like that with your shades on?”

You shrug, but right when he says it you start to feel the metal pieces pressing hard into your skin and you can’t stay in this position for another second.  You turn your head to the side so you’re facing the husktop and take off your shades.  You fold the arms and carefully stick them into your collar for safe keeping.  After some careful consideration, you decide to stay in this position.  

You’re really trying to watch the movie, but you can’t seem to follow much of what’s going on at this point and end up focusing right back in on Karkat.  He’s still hugging you, practically squishing you to him in this really warm, affectionate embrace that you have no idea how to reciprocate.  You don’t think you’ve ever received this much physical affection before in your entire life.

You have no idea what to do with your own hands, right now one of them is just hanging off the couch like a limp noodle and the other one’s at your side.  You take your hand that’s not busy being a noodle and start running it through Karkat’s hair.  It’s thick and softer than what you’d expected, but it’s clear that he’s never met a hairbrush in his life.  That would explain all the weird angles it’s always standing up in.

“Dave, what are you doing?”

“Playing with your hair, what the fuck do you think I’m doing?”  You start combing it through your fingers slowly.  Your fingers keep getting caught in the tangles.  “Do they have brushes on Alternia or are you just so fucking lazy you never bothered to learn basic hygiene?” “Shut up, Dave.”  He doesn’t confirm nor deny your suspicion, and instead leans his head closer to your hand as you continue.  

Karkat relaxes under your touch, and you can literally hear his heart slow into a more comfortable, natural rhythm.  You pull yourself up a couple inches and nuzzle into his neck.  You can’t help but smile when you feel his face grow warm.  He hugs you a little tighter, and it’s the best thing ever.

The movie ends sooner than you expected, mostly because you had no fucking idea what was going on during any part of it whatsoever.  Literally none.  If you were asked to give a report about what that movie was in four hundred words, you would be unable to because you have no clue.  Still, you’re disappointed that it’s over.

Karkat starts to sit up, and you move so you’re no longer laying with all of your weight on him.  You end up sitting on his lap instead, which for some reason feels more awkward than when you were completely on top of him a moment ago.  

He removes one arm from around you and turns off the movie on his husktop.  The other arm stays at your hip. “So, what do you want to do now?”

Karkat regards you curiously, waiting for your response.  He’d probably agree to doing anything you want to right now.  Shit, he’d probably do a dramatic one man reenactment of one of your comics if you asked right now.

One of your hands is still in his hair, and you use it to gently guide him over to you.  You cup his face in both your hands and kiss his nose.  You were really fucking tempted to go for the lips, but you don’t think either of you are ready for that just yet.  Especially not when you’re both embarrassingly red in the face from that tiny peck just now.  “Why don’t you put on another one?”

Karkat looks surprised by your suggestion but then smiles and wrinkles his nose at you.  “Okay, if that’s really what you want.”

“Oh, it is.”

He puts on another romcom, and you both slump back into the couch and resume cuddling positions.  Karkat buries his face in your hair, and this time you’re the one doing the affectionate squeeze hugs.  At one point you start holding hands again, it’s at an awkward angle for both of you but neither of you let go.

You don’t watch the movie.