#finals been kickin my ass man

[zephyrinkorporated]

Doodles from during my finales

Ive been mostly active on twitter i sometimes forget i almost dont post here, I promise ill be more active here after school ends 😩

Also ive been getting back into stardew valley so i drew a quit doodle of my husband 🫣(shane)

[raisin-shell]

Raph’s Journal chapter 10: Scars ⚠️ TCEST⚠️

We get a lot of questions, particularly from tha humans we do encounter. One of those questions is how I got my scar on my lip… an Leo his eye. Tha day started out like any other, my alarm clock went off an naturally I hit tha snooze button one to many times.

“Cmon Raph! You’re going to be late again and you know leo told you last time that it’d be your last time. Hurry up dude!”

My kid brother of all people is tha only one who can, if possible, keep me in line but today was tha wrong day ta fuck with fearless. I scrambled ta get my gear on, running frantically towards tha dojo. Once I was there all my brothers were already lined up and in position. Usually I get a tongue lashin’ from Leo tha moment I set foot in our fightin’ area but today he just glared on into some distance somewhere. Man I must have really pissed him off with my tardiness this time.

Once master splinter had evaluated us during our warm ups it was time fer some one on one matches. Naturally I was paired with Leonardo. Go figure. He seemed different today. No stoic nature just plain angry as our master signaled for us ta fight. He came at me full force, katanas weldin’ into tha sky as they crashed down against the metal of my sais.

“I told you this would be the last time you’re late Raphael!”

He’s usin’ my full name which lets me know he is indeed pissed off.

“Listen fearless, I’m here aren’t I? I swear ya get yer panties in a bunch over nothin’!”

I shoved him backward a bit to hard and he was on me once again, tha metal of our weapons clambered and clanked. He was strong god dammit that bastard was heated. I had finally had enough.

“What’s good tuff guy? Our great leader huh? Looks like ya need ta control yer temper!”

And I uppercut him, the point of my sai slashin’ his eye as he began to stumble backwards.

“Leo.. I didn’t… I’m sor..”

Before I could get it out I felt his leg swipe mine out from under me, his katana swung an if I hadn’t already been fallin’ backward, he’d have gotten more than just a slice of my lip. I groaned in agony. Apparently I landed on a sewer drain an broke my tail. Blood dripped down Leo’s eye as he just glared at me as I was rollin’ around on tha floor in pain. Practice was cut short that day. Donnie not only had to doctor myself up but Leo as well.

“Can you believe that guy!? All this because he can’t get over himself!”

I wince as Donnie takes a look at my tail.

“You were late Raph. Again. It’s been nearly every day this week. He expects more from you. He loves you. And honestly I think it’s past time you told him the truth about your feelings for him.”

Donnie was my go to fuck boy. He had always known about my secret attraction ta Leo. Never once got jealous or malicious. He was right.

“Alright fine. I’ll go talk ta him. But I swear ta god if he comes at me again I’m kickin’ yer ass next Donnie.”

A few days went by. I had ta give ol fearless his space. Give us both time ta heal. He had ta wear a patch over his eye for a while. Once it had healed and things weren’t so heated, I decided to confront him. He was tending to his bansai plants when I approached him from behind.

“Hey Leo. Yer eye okay?”

I hummed deeply as he continued pruning his plants.

“Listen fearless I’m sorry fer always…”

He dropped his clippers and turned ta face me.

“You’re sorry? You’re SORRY?! Jesus Christ Raphael you’re always sorry. I can’t get each of you on the same damn page when I have my right hand constantly disobeying orders! Do you think the rules don’t apply to you?!”

I’ll admit it… he’s cute as fuck when he’s angry.

“My eye is fine. No thanks to you.”

He folds his arms as I lean in closer to him.

“Here. Lemme see hm?”

I trace my thumb under tha bandage, peelin’ it back ta expose his eye still a bit swollen from tha impact.

“I… I really am sorry Leo. Ya just… ya don’t…. Ya don’t know how badly I feel fer ya. Ya got no clue. I love ya an it’s my fault ya don’t know that. It’s my fault. I’m… I’m sorry.”

My hand trailed across his cheek cuppin’ it as I leaned in closer ta him.

“Raph…. No…. Stop.”

My other arm wrapped around his waist as I pulled his body against mine.

“Raph I… we’ll get caught…”

No sooner did those words come outta his mouth an my lips landed on his. I was expectin’ him ta pull away but his body began ta melt against mine. All tensed muscles softened an I felt his hand cradle my neck, deepenin’ tha kiss. My foot kicked his door closed as our tongues continued ta tie. My hands took it upon themselves to wrap beneath his bottom liftin’ him up as we both slammed against the thick brick wall of his room.

His hips began buckin’ eagerly, his hard rod rollin’ against my own sent an aching throb to my cock. I grunted against his kiss, quickly untied tha laces of his pants allowin’ that beautiful cock of his to spring free. My hand couldn’t help but wrap around his perfect girth, tuggin’ firmly as he gasped and whimpered against my mouth. Never in a million years did I think things were gonna turn out like this.

My hand continued to pump his cock, usin’ all my upper body strength I held him up against tha wall as I began ta kneel down. I had his legs tucked up over my shoulders as I broke our kiss and began nibbling and sucking down tha center of his plastron. Gently, I lapped tha under ridge of his cock as a needy moan gasped from his throat. My hands spread his ass cheeks wide fer me. His thick lime green muscles glistened under tha light, a rock hard cock with two perfectly round spheres set embedded in between those legs just waitin’ fer me ta take a taste. Fuck me. My lips puckered around his bulbous head as my head bobbed down. His back craned, teeth grittin’ as ta not make so much noise.

His cock is long and thick, I can feel his pulse in my throat as I take him deeper and deeper. And his cock just kept getting harder. My thumb slipped ta his perineum using some of my own drool ta lubricate tha area, slowly pluggin’ my thumb into his tight, warm back door. Tha sweat was beadin’ and rolling down his brown as his thighs widened for me, welcoming my thumb now two knuckles deep into his body. Precum was strandin’ from tha tip of his cock ta his plastron. I knew he was ready.

I slipped back ta my feet, our lips crashin’ together again as I tugged my shorts down lettin’ my massive cock free. I lined my head up with his tight hot ring and slowly sunk myself up into him. I could feel his body trembling but his hips kept pressin’ inta mine.

“This what cha want fearless? Hm? Ya want me ta fuck ya don’t cha?”

His blue eyes opened fer tha first time since tha encounter, gazin lovingly inta my own eyes.

“Please?”

My hips retract as his mouth purses into a silent moan, tha tight pull he had on my cock nearly makin’ me explode right then and there. But I held myself together, plungin’ myself deeper into his tight cavern.

“Harder. Please harder.”

He’s beggin’ fer me now which if you’ve been readin’ up on my journal… you know that’s a weak spot fer me. I tuck my arms beneath his legs, pinnin’ him tight against the wall as I sink myself in deeper and faster until little spurts of cum began ta pulse from his cock and he came unraveled in my arms. I pulled him up away from tha wall, hips still thrusting deeply up inside of his tightness until I felt tha sweet release of my own orgasm pull through my body.

We stood there for a moment, both of us catchin’ our breath and me catchin’ fearless smiling fer a change. I slowly retracted my cock from him and set him down, helping him get his gear and pants back inta place. All tha while he had this giddiness about him that I’d never seen before.

“So I take it I’m forgiven?”

I smirked with a chuckle as I pat him on tha ass.

“For now… We’ll see what happens next time.”

[airlock]

a few days ago, I finished the Azure Gleam route on FE Warriors: Three Hopes! so here’s me, back at it with all the opinions and takes and criticism and whatnot

and first of all: again, there is ostensibly a bit of a route split depending on if you spare Byleth or not, and again, I have ended up down the route where you just kill them. my approach this time around was to kind of play it by ear, try to bring Byleth in but not try too hard -- and still I seem to have ended up in a state of the Hevring map where you simply can’t progress without slaying the Ashen Demon, so as far as playing by ear goes, I figured that meant it was time to pass the buck once again. (on Scarlet Blaze now, though, I’m not kidding around; I’m genuinely not going to stop until I pull it off.)

but hey, back to the ones with less warm hands I guess:

annette is SO CUTE in this game I cannot withstand it and it cannot possibly be legal. every cutscene she happened to be in, I was paying more attention to her than anything else. a fair amount of it is just iterating on what was already an absolutely darling design in Three Houses (both pre- and post-timeskip), but it’s also really never been done better than here. I think I especially appreciate the seamless combination of the pretty dress and the heavy ass-kickin’ gauntlets, but of course, the braided loopies also absolutely stand out and must be mentioned if nothing else as a runner-up there. plus, design aside, she’s just as delightful of a character as usual, too -- you see, I’ve been through the desert on a horse with a face--

OH right, though, there was some other character who’s the protagonist of this route or something, and I was probably supposed to lead off talking about that (just as I did with Claude in GW), even though he’s not remotely as adorable, right. fine, fine, let’s move on to that

the thing is, though, if GW was finally Claude’s time to shine after being thorougly shafted by Three Houses... AG appears to be the first-ever route where Dimitri is boring. like, he still has a few outstanding character moments here and there and even a little bit of a character arc, if not one that was paced particularly well (that seems to be a consistent problem with this game, huh), but the long and narrow of it is that he just sort of gets everything he wants in this route without much trepidation, which denies us those intense lows and highs that were crucial to making the character as captivating as he is to a lot of people in the first place, even if I’m sure that a lot of these selfsame people must have been far less opposed than I to a storyline where Dimitri has a good time for once-

least I can say about this route, though, is that even if it’s doing staggeringly little with its protagonist (and, as I’ll complain about later, its antagonist as well), it does do a great amount of good by its remaining cast. where Three Hopes was happy to write off if not outright kill Dedue just to finesse Dimitri’s spiral, here we’re instead treated to Dedue as the center of one of the most beautifully indulgent cutscenes ever. Felix, as well, is forced to mature faster as a result of old man rodrigueroo’s switcheroo, which means he gets more time to show off the less unpleasant sides of character. Ashe gets his clash with Lonato redone with very few differences here, which mostly feels lazy, but it’s a surprisingly huge improvement to be taking that moment on with an Ashe who’s there because that’s where he chose to be, rather than because the church sent him there. even Shez seemed to have gotten a lot more room to grapple with their mysteries and anxieties here than in GW. in a way, I guess you could say that we don’t get no full-boar Dimitri on this route because it put the emphasis on what happens when his support network is actually working-

on the flipside though, it is a bit strange how much of their usual characterization a lot of the Lions seem to cast off as just past teenage cringe in this game. like, I do appreciate that Ingrid isn’t providing any further fuel for the “huhuhuhu CEO of racism” crowd even if she’s not really going to win ‘em over no matter what -- but come on, Sylvain growing out of being a philanderer? five years of war didn’t beat that out of him in Three Houses at all, so what gives?

but speaking of Shez, this time around I played as the female version (whom I’ve named Shez/her, resulting in my brother doing a spit-take when he saw it), and it’s kind of interesting how she comes across as a somewhat different character despite having nearly all of the same lines, because the voice delivery is just THAT different across the goose and the gander. I’m really not sure if I should consider that a feature or a bug frankly

anyway, I’ve made a note to whing about the antagonist, and this is as good as part as any to move onto that, so let’s have a look. you see... say what you will about Edelgard as a character and as an antagonist -- and by Seiros, people have absolutely the fuck done so for the past three years and are still at it right about now, myself included- -- but one of the better points she’d always had going for her was the sheer sense of agency. so you can imagine how pleased I wasn’t by the fact that half the plotline on this thing here hinges on completely removing that. I would frankly rather Edelgard had died (by Dimitri’s hand or Thales’s), or been locked away, than been kept around just to be mind-controlled. that does absolutely nothing for her character, and doesn’t even really enchance the storyline either.

not helping matters much is that, once Edelgard is out of her position as the route’s main antagonist, no one steps up to replace her competently in that capacity. Ludwig and Thales try their hands at it, but notwithstanding the initial disadvantage there that Thales is one of THE most uninteresting villains in this entire franchise (and I do not say that lightly), they don’t even terribly much bother to make the pecking order between those two crystal clear. and I mean that less in terms of de facto rank than just in terms of story weight, like... you know the thing where the Empire’s movements in war become laced with pointless cruelty after the switch there? there’s a reason why this would happen because of Ludwig (he’s cruel, selfish, and not bright enough to conduct things less destructively anyway), and there’s a reason why this would happen because of Thales (he approaches the Geneva Conventions as a drinking game). but there are also subtle distinctions in how plunder and misery under either of them would look, and the game just doesn’t care to stick to either possible look very consistently. is the Empire doing all that obvious stupid villainy out of callous incompetence, or because wreaking havoc and destruction is actually the goal? you get a different answer at different times -- so, who’s actually flying this eagle, again?

all this put together, I have to say, the latter half of this route is a freaking slog. like, it’s the opposite of whatever people must be experiencing when they complain that GW was over too soon; I felt like we were done with this storyline before the halfway point of it, and everything thereafter was essentially a pallid excuse to keep the game going. every mystery that was going to get solved, gets solved before then. Thales’s intervention in Arianrhod is the dead last plot beat that isn’t completely trite and predictable, outside of a few of Claude’s later stunts which don’t really get all that much attention from the story anyway. and whatever old men Hevring and Bergliez were supposed to be doing around here as Camus types, it’s not panning out, plain and simple.

and while I’m dragging things -- man alive, I feel like I’ve gone so high and then so low in terms of the base camp song. I like the idea of each route having a distinct one in theory, but in practice I just missed the GW camp song the entire time I was playing AG- and I don’t think it was just sheer saudosism either, because I’m in SR now and I actually like the camp song again, even if I don’t love it as much as GW’s.

there’s a bit less for me to say overall in this sojourn -- not because the route was that much lesser per se, but also because I’m fresh out of first-impression comments to make. like, the worldbuilding is still great, nothing to report there; the gameplay is still enjoyable whenever it’s not a pain in the ass (although at least now I know how to check S-rank requirements and whether I’m currently meeting them in the middle of a battle, which is a vast improvement-). and unlike GW’s Holst and SR’s Monica, here we do not have a heretofore unbuilt character making their debut; Rodrigue more or less takes up the analogous position (at least until he gets killed in a cheap and uninteresting manner that does a disservice to his great death scene in Azure Moon), but he was already a major character previously, so, little change.

(far as gameplay goes, I suppose one thing I can say is that goddamn, just like some of the Lions were among the most busted units in Three Houses, here some of them have the absolute best personal skills around. the only regrets I have wrt running Sylvain’s Gordian Stroke on sword classes are that, one, he kept leveling up way ahead of the rest of the crew, and two, my brain will now never release me from the jokes about Sylvain’s sword getting longer. ... I guess that would’ve been even worse if I’d gone with his default lance-wielding class line.)

still, in the end, I have to say I found Azure Gleam to be noticeably inferior to Golden Wildfire as a route -- and I don’t just say that out of sheer Claude bias, not when I definitely would not say that of the analogous Azure Moon vs Verdant Wind comparison. but oh well, it’s not as if it was a bad time, per se; if nothing else, I can’t overstate how good it is to see Dedue being treated properly as a character this time.

either way, we’ll have more to discuss once I’m back down from the eagle’s nest -- but I think I’m far enough in already to offer up a few things! y’know, just things like “monica good”, “caspar sounds like he just somehow hit reverse puberty”, and “nothing but the utmost awe for Billy Kametz’s absolutely unimpeachable final performance”. oh, and of course, GATEKEEPER REAL.

[tsuki-sennin]

It's the final stretch for the Zombie Survival round, and our Kamen Riders are fighting tirelessly for the chance to move on to the next! All eyes are on our brilliant survivors and also Tycoon to see who will become the DGP MVP! Odds are... not particularly high for some of us, but it's still anyone's game!

Anyways stan Na-Go.

Spoilers, I guess...

-Heeeeeey, Keiwa. I was just kiddin', you know?

-Seems like Neon's mother has really gone above and beyond keeping her on a leash. Though to be fair, this is a situation no parent would want their kid in. ...even with the insanely high likelihood that's not at all the reason Mrs. Kurama is doing this.

-Oh damn, Mary. Or rather, Kogoneya, right?

-Da-Paan in gamer jail.

-Damn, we're just killing them all right now huh fellas?

-Keiwa's pretty justified in running at him like that, Game, up yours.

-"I was just kidding haha fuck you"

-Awwww, Neon...

-Just wanted to be free, huh?

-Keiwa's so cruel.

-"Money" seems like a pretty wasteful use of this kinda wish, Kogoneya.

-People die, and for them we still fight on. Thus says the fox.

-John and Ben seem like perfectly fine guys off the clock. Shame Neon's got such a target painted onto her.

-HOLY SHIT

-No you, don't get to say that, you knocked her onto the floor with that slap!

-Yeah, you tell that bitch!

-Cat, Fox, and Raccoon.

Keiwa: Even if your chances are slim, you're still my friend and I want to help you get that second lease on life you deserve. Ace: And I'm gonna kill you for that Victory Royale. :) ...sorry. :(

-Neon... by gosh, do I admire you.

-You ain't a rotting meat sack yet, Neon! ...or I guess rotting plant sack, but...

-Gamer time.

-Oh shit, Azuma's got a gun!

-I guess Da-Paan didn't make it.

-Wow, Mary's willing to put civvies in active danger for that.

-Oh dammit, he's still kickin'.

-"As a Gamer, I already had no rights!"

-Oh hell yeah, Neon's back!

-Na-Go, playing by her rules!

-NEVER GIVE UP!

-...see it's funny, because Armed Hammer is a repaint of the... the Donkachi...

-Never mind

-The cat has the power of BONK

-Speedrun strats, gotcha!

-Awww, giving her a little Boost :)

-Huh... are they perhaps setting up a more explicit romance than normal between Neon and Keiwa?

-...I'm pretty on board with this.

-Na-Go and Tycoon, they have potential to be a cool Reiwa power couple. As long as they figure things out naturally, Keiwa knows how to treat a girl right, and Neon gets to keep being as cool and fascinating as she has been, then yeah I'd be all for it. ...don't fuck this up, Takahashi, I beg you. Neon's desire to break away from her abusive mother and live a normal life is an absolutely perfect motivation, just let this thing you may or may not be planning between her and Keiwa be part of that instead of superseding it.

-...with all that said, I'm still gonna be assuming that Keiwa and Ace are fucking extensively off screen. Neon can even join in if she wants, but that's just how it works in my head. OT3, go!

-Okay, Tangent Over, sorry about that, where were we?

-Oh yeah, Neon's about to kick everyone's asses. Based.

-Dual On!

-Boost Armed Hammer! Ready, Fight!

-Catgirl Violence.

-Oooooh, absolutely smashed!

-Nice catch, man!

-God, I love team-up attacks. Hope we get to see tons more of them.

-Oh whoops.

-Thanks Buffa, eat my ass.

-It ain't over til it's over!

-ACE YOU LITERALLY COULD'VE KILLED HER

-Revolve On!

-LOVING this look btw.

-Oh!

-That's a big hammer!

-That's King Dedede's Down-B!

-Thank you, Boost Buckle!

-Hooray, you're free!

-Good job, Neon!

-I see Keiwa doesn't get an honorific. I hear that's pretty indicative.

-Da-Paan going to Gamer Hell.

-Sayonara... Kanato Sumida.

-His riding license has been revoked.

-Final boss time.

-I'm rooting for you every step of the way, Neon.

-I see... Ace and Azuma are being backed for different reasons, hmm?

-What might next episode bring us?

-Pairing up!

-Punkjack?

-Is that a fucking pumpkin bear

-Oh, no, that's a grizzly. Too bad Shirowe's dead and Da-Paan's in Gamer Jail, we could've had a We Bare Bears special.

-Hmm.

-I see.

-Okay.

-Apparently Punkjack's a bot for Mary to team up with. I wonder how many NPCs the DGP staff have? And how they were created? ...are they perhaps heavily modified HumaGears, Takahashi? Perhaps some benign strain of Bugster Virus? Or are they like weird... developer ghosts?

-Either way, I'd be happy to see them in action.

[pixelated-pogues]

Undesired Vacancy (Fezco)

Summary: There's a vacancy in his life where you'd typically sit after an argument over beating Nate Jacobs at the New Years Eve party. Pairing: Fezco x reader Inspired by: Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High by Arctic Monkeys Warnings: mentions of weed and alcohol, cursing, argument, mentions of Rue's overdose. Gif Creds: @euphoriabrasil

The mirror's image, it tells me it's home time But I'm not finished, 'cause you're not by my side And as I arrived I thought I saw you leavin', carryin' your shoes Decided that once again I was just dreamin' of bumpin' into you

Wiping his hands on the towel hanging from the wall, Fez meets his own gaze in the pristine mirror in front of him. His palms meet the cool granite of the counter, alleviating some of the pressure weighing on his shoulders with an exhausted sigh. He studies himself silently for a few moments, his cerulean eyes taking in all of the evident signs that he's worn out from the shitty week that had ensued, with a heavy mind. He's ready to tap out and ignore his responsibilities for the next three months to give himself time to recover.

"Shit man," he whispers to himself, dragging his phone out of his pocket long enough to shoot Ash a text.

To: Lil Tray Finish up whatever business you got goin on right now and let's get the hell outta here. Ima head to the car in a few.

With that, his phone is shoved back into his pocket and he's staring at the mirror again. It had been an off night, business was good as per usual, but the night felt like a dud without you lurking around, randomly popping in to keep him company. It's been days since he's seen you, yet the sting from the argument that lead to your vacancy still feels as strong as it did when your furied words pierced his heart a little too deeply just before you stormed out of the apartment and slammed the door. An exasperated sigh leave's Fez's lips as the moment of you shouting at him with tears rolling down your cheeks replays in his mind and he flinches as he remembers the sound of you slamming the door.

He'd gone into the party tonight worried and hoping that he'd see you, and he could've sworn he caught a glimpse of you sauntering out of the house with your shoes clutched tightly in your hands when he pulled up with Ashtray. Yet, just as quickly as he'd seen you, you were gone by the time he gave the front door a second glance, leaving him to believe that all the weed was finally getting to his head.

Now it's three in the mornin' and I'm tryin' to change your mind Left you multiple missed calls and to my message, you reply "Why'd you only call me when you're high?"

From: Lil Tray I’ve been in the car for 10 minutes, u good?

“Shit,” Fez mumbles again, shoving his phone in his back pocket, sparing one last glance at himself before pulling open the door, quickly making his way out of the house. Bidding people goodbye in passing, several familiar faces asking if he’s got anything they could snag before he heads out. They’re all waved off without a second glance as he beelines towards the door, ready to bask in the silence of the apartment, or numb himself with weed while Ash puts on his favorite show.

Fez doesn’t say anything in response to Ashtray’s questioning look when he climbs in the car. Instead, he greets him by dabbing him up before putting the car in drive and speeding down the road.

“Business was good. Pretty sure McKay’s friend group came to see me four times before the night was over,” Ash fills him in after several moments of silence, his eyes scanning over his brothers features to try to pinpoint the unspoken emotions that have Fezco white-knuckling the steering wheel in silence.

“That’s good Ash,” Fez shoots the younger boy a proud smile, sliding a leftover joint out from behind his ear, gladly accepting Ash’s offer to light it up. “You’re always kickin ass with the sales at these parties. You know ma would be proud.” Ash nods, clearly glad to accept the words Fez shared with him before shifting to look out the window to observe the familiar streets of their town.

Fezco’s thoughts inevitably trail back to you as the car whips past spots that hold memories with you, which is damn near every spot in town. It’s a rarity that you’re not curled up in the backseat tonight. You’ve spent more time with the boys than you have with your own family for as long as he remembers, which is why everywhere Fez looks poses as a reminder of you and makes him more aware that you aren’t around.

As tired as he is, he tosses and turns in his bed for hours after the party. The house felt too quiet and his bed felt too cold without you tucked into his side. With a disheartened sigh, he blindly reaches for his phone, squinting to make at the time while his eyes adjust to the brightness of the screen. 3 am, it read, adding the the annoyance eating at his chest.

To: My Girl Y/n, I know we’re both stubborn and are letting our pride get in the way of putting this shit behind us. We both said shit we didn’t mean, and I’m ready to let it go if you are. I miss you baby, please just…talk to me.

Fez huffs, letting his phone fall on the mattress next to him, silently praying that you’re awake and ready to talk. It doubtful, seeing as it’s a Friday night and you’re probably drunk with the girls, but he’s hopeful that he’ll be able to hear your voice before he falls asleep. He’s never left so many voicemails on someone’s phone, that’s the number one indicator that he’s down bad, but he chooses not to think about that too hard. The warning from his grandma about love wafts through his mind momentarily before wasting away, allowing room for other thoughts to take their place.

And I can't see you here, wonderin' where am I It sort of feels like I'm runnin' out of time I haven't found all I was hopin' to find

Fez isn't the type to spend his time hoping and waiting that things will look up in his favor, nor is he the typical type to spend his nights wondering if someone else is thinking about him too, but over the past few days, as soon as the lights are off and he's all alone, it's all he seems to be able to do.

As soon as the stars take over the sky, and his head hits the pillow, his mind starts wandering through endless fake scenarios and in which things are okay, in which the argument never happened, or he's dreaming about you knocking on his door crying and spilling a string of apologies into his chest.

He hates to admit it, but he's not even that upset about the way you're constantly running through his mind. It helps alleviate some of the hurt that he hasn't physically seen you because he's constantly meeting you in his thoughts, both of you saying all of the words needing to be said and everything in between.

Yet, the longer you remain silent, the more his hope depletes and the more your responses in his scenarios sound like his own voice trying to convince him that things are going to be oaky. Part of him thinks that you hit your breaking point with him and are refusing to reach out because you're finally done. Another part of him believes that the longer you stay silent, the more time is running out for the two of you to fix things. Yet, his typical thought process is consumed with believing that things are going to be okay, though his thoughts don't exactly do the best at convincing him that that's the truth.

You guys have fought plenty of times, but never like you did the other night. Neither of you are the type to lose control, but you both completely lost your cool and seemed to tear the other to shreds in the process.

"The problem is that you didn't think Fez, God I swear sometimes you just forget to think before you make rash decisions," you'd shouted trailing into the house behind him, haphazardly slamming the door behind you. Ashtray, who'd been tired of the tension and bantering on the way home from McKay's party, silently retreated to his room knowing Fez would appreciate the privacy.

"The hell is that supposed to mean," he'd grumbled, dumping the car keys on the kitchen table before facing you, eyebrows pulled together in a tight glare. "I didn't make any rash decisions, I did what I needed to do to take care of my family. I thought you, of all people, would understand that."

"How in the hell is beating Nate Jacobs to a pulp taking care of your family, Fez," you laughed in disbelief, "His dad owns half of the fucking town. What are we going to do when he comes after you? There's no way in hell Cal Jacobs is going to be sweet-talked out of trying to throw your ass in jail after this."

"Thank you so much for the vote of confidence, Y/n," Fez rolled his eyes, taking a swig from a beer you hadn't even realized he'd picked up. "I'm so glad to have your support."

"Don't you dare," you growled, eyes wide with a single finger pointed in his direction. "You know damn well I support you, you don't get to mock that now that you made a shitty choice. Not after all of the times I've went to bat for you."

"You make it sound like such a chore," he noted, putting his beer down on the counter. "If my lifestyle is such a burden to you, then why don't you just leave?" Fez silently cursed himself when his words registered in his head. Someone in their right mind doesn't just offer their girlfriend a ticket to walk out of their life. He's angry at her for not just being able to trust that what he'd done to Nate was for good reason, but he doesn't want her to leave.

"That isn't fair," you sighed, displaying a slightly betrayed expression. "You don't get to project how you think I feel onto me. I feel like I'm trying to be understanding here Fez, I'm just worried that you haven't thought about the repercussions this time." You'd silently tried de-escalating the conversation, wanting nothing more than to just climb to bed, but the dull ache in your chest told you that the conversation isn't close to being over.

"So what, I'm just supposed to watch Nate fuck with Rue and her friends without doin anything about it? Just because you're worried that his dad is going to talk?" Fez knew he was being unreasonable, but that didn't stop him from pushing the argument further. Maybe it was extra pent-up frustration that he'd walked out of the party while Jacobs still had a pulse or maybe it was the inkling in his mind telling him that you were right, but his pride wasn't willing to let you be right this time.

"Oh my god, why am I even trying," you laughed incredulously, pulling your hands through your hair in frustration. "It's always the same argument. It feels like we're just talking in circles here. Why is it that Rue is always the one you're willing to ruin your own safety and security for? Why does it always have to be your fight when it comes to her?"

"She's my family, Y/n. You know better than anyone else how I feel about taking care of my family," Fez tried reasoning, trying to get you to remember that he doesn't just beat people in cold blood without reason. "And I'm real tired of Jacobs feelin like he can stir shit up without any consequences."

"Okay but if you're all about taking care of your family, then why'd you keep feeding her addiction knowing fully well that she was barely treading water and losing control. You deal with enough addicts to know all of the warning signs, so if you're so concerned about her well-being, why do you keep fulfilling her need for drugs? Even after she nearly killed herself with the ones you sold her at the beginning of the summer," the rebuttal slipped out of your mouth before you could register what you were saying. The heat of the moment, the worry of impending repercussions of Fezco's actions, killing your ability to fully filter what was going to come out of your mouth. You faltered then, knowing you went too far, your entire demeanor shifting at the realization that you'd let the words you knew would hurt him slip.

Fez's jaw clenched, his beer discarded on the counter with a loud smack before his battered hands clenched into a fist. Rue's addiction was a touchy subject to Fez. A subject that you knew not to discuss unless it came up, fully aware of the weight Fez has carried ever since she overdosed at the beginning of the summer.

"I fucking knew you were holdin that over my head," he hissed, visibly growing more angry as the words fell off his tongue. "You really have the whole, sweet supportive girlfriend bullshit down to a T, ma. You've had us both so convinced that you're this sweet person that can never do anything wrong but it's bullshit. You're bullshit ma."

"Fez," you murmured, stepping towards him in hopes to fix the damage you'd done. You were just worried about him, you never intended for things to come here. "I don't hold it over your head. I swear I don't. It just slipped and-"

"You got to go, Y/n," he interrupted, crossing his arms over his chest without looking at you.

"What?" You breathed, tears welling up in your eyes at the clear hurt displayed on his face. "Fez please just-"

"Get the fuck out of my face and go," he shouted, sending you flinching into the counter behind you. The hurt transitioned into a furious glare, his cheeks tinted and angry pink as he pointed towards the door. "I don't want to look at you right now, ma. And I sure as hell don't want your lame ass excuses now that you know that you fucked up and aren't the perfectly pleasant little queen you crack yourself out to be. You clearly can't go a day without holding my lifestyle over my head, so go, cause things aren't changing any time soon."

You let those words sink in for a few moments before you said anything else, your heart heavy due to the weight and stresses the night had presented. "Okay," you sighed, wiping a single tear off of your flushed cheek. "But for the record, I don't hold anything over your head, I was just trying to understand because I'm worried about all of these seemingly rash decisions that don't seem like you. That don't seem like the guy I've grown to love." With that, you left without sparing him a second glance, slipping off the green sweater he'd let you borrow and dropping it by the door.

Fez remembers how that sweater had stayed where you left it since it had been carelessly dropped on the floor that day. He likes to keep the apartment tidy, but couldn't bare to move it, so it stayed there as a reminder of the words both of you dropped on each other that night. He inevitably cringes as he recounts the things he'd laid on you in anger, and he wishes you were there so he could flip them around. You are many things, but bullshit sure isn't one of them, lil ma.

He sinks further into the comfort of his bed, fully expecting for the rabbit trail of thoughts to continue unfolding, but his head shoots over in surprise at the sound of his text tone pinging through the silence.

Somewhere darker, talkin' the same shite I need a partner, well, are you out tonight? It's harder and harder to get you to listen More I get through the gears Incapable of makin' alright decisions, and havin' bad ideas

From: my girl My fingers have been itching to call you all night. Now it’s 3 am and I’m well past the point of making decisions I’m going to like in the morning. Seems like a good opportunity to talk while my heart is talking louder than my head. Wanna go for a drive?

A sigh of relief escapes his chest, his shoulders feeling three times lighter at the words displayed in the screen. His fingers immediately ghost over the keys as he drags himself out of bed, not bothering to change before he’s quietly exiting the house, shooting Ash a text in case he wakes up before he gets back. Fez drives down the open road with the windows down, holding his breath when your silhouette comes into view. You’re waiting for him at the stop sign down the road from your house like you always do. The car is in park long enough for you to climb in, neither of you bothering to say anything as he continues down the road in the direction of your usual late night spot.

He doesn’t have to look at you to know that you’re staring at him, fingers playing with the hem of the hoodie hanging off of your frame. Your eyes shoot to the window when he glances your way as if you’re embarrassed he caught you. The tension in the car is new for both of you, arguments being a rare occurrence in your dynamic. You open your mouth to speak, but close it when he puts the car in park, shifting so that you know you have his full attention.

“I meant what I said on the phone,” he begins, turning the radio down so he can hear you. The dim lamps in the abandoned parking lot cast a soft glow on your features, if things didn’t feel so awkward he would’ve pulled you into his chest and told you that you look beautiful. But he doesn’t. While you’re still his, your harsh words replay like symphonies in his head acting as a reminder that you guys have shit to work out.

“I know,” you hum, tugging your knees up to your chest with a sigh. “I’m sorry it took me so long to respond. It’s just, I know that what I said the other day was shitty and I’ve felt like I lost the right to apologize.”

“You haven’t lost your right to nothin, ma,” he replies sincerely, picking at a loose thread on his sweats. “Feelin like that ain’t no reason to lose us over. Least in my opinion. We both said things we knew would hurt in the heat of the moment, but I’m not gonna let that keep me from havin you.” Your lips curve into a sad smile at his words, reminding you of the hurtful things he’d said to you. You’ve spent the last several days ignoring his messages because you’d taken all of the blame for the argument on yourself. Opting to punish yourself by getting in the way of making things better in hopes that it’d keep you from hurting him again.

“Do you ever wonder if we’re not good for each other? Or maybe that I’m not good for you?” You’re surprised as the words slip off of your tongue, the alcohol in your system cancelling out your usual filter. A labored breath gets caught in your throat as you fear his answer to the question. Of course Fez hadn’t ever thought that exactly. His lifestyle made him question why you chose to associate with him, and he often reminded himself that he wasn’t good for you, but he never questioned if you were good for him. He knows damn well that you’re too good for him and that he’s lucky you give him the time of day.

“Nah,” he shakes his head, leaning forward just to be closer to you. “You must be on somethin if you’re thinkin like that. That’s crazy talk, Y/n.” You blink at him when he pauses again, the statement lightening the heaviness in your heart a little. “We may not be perfect, but we fit too well into each other’s lives for me to believe we’re bad for each other. A fight doesn’t just change that.” You nod in understanding, trying to find the right words to communicate how sorry you feel for saying what you did, but you keep drawing a blank. Fez studies you for a few seconds, watching a silent battle go on in your mind before he reaches out to touch you, feeling accomplished when his touch rips you away from your thoughts as his fingers graze the soft skin on your cheek.

“Are you going to keep acting like you’re afraid to look at me, or are you gonna let me kiss you so we can put all that behind us and move on,” he’s so close now that you can feel his breath faintly fan across your face. Your eyes flicker down to his lips, meeting his eyes once more, before you break the space between you and let your kiss say everything your words are failing to.

He hums at the feeling, gripping your jaw as everything else melts away.

“I really am sorry,” you tell him after pulling away, your foreheads resting against each other. “What I said was out of line. I hope you know I didn’t mean it.”

“I know,” he promises, lips grazing the curve of your lips. “I’m sorry for what I said too. Didn't mean any of it, just let the moment get in the way." You fingers dance over the soft skin on his chest, his cerulean eyes meeting yours in the dimly lit car as he leans further into your gentle touch. "I know there's more we gotta talk through, but what do you say we put a pin in it and go home?"

You nod in agreement, leaning in to kiss him once more before getting comfortable in your seat as he puts the car in drive and heads down the familiar streets to the apartment. His hand finds its home on your thigh, the simple gesture warming your heart in knowing that it's his simple way of promising you that he's there.

Things are far from perfect, but they'll be okay.

A/N: This one ran away from me a little, but I kinda like it...so I hope you guys do too <3 feedback is always welcome and appreciated. If you guys have any Fez concepts you'd like to see me write, feel free to shoot me a message. Also, if you want to be added to my Euphoria taglist, let me know <3 All the love.

Taglist: @milkiane @glodessa @goldenroutledge @curlyolly @styxiasstuff @soccerximagines

[seita]

the contract girlfriend | semi eita (m.)

˒ pairing: semi eita/reader ˒ genre: angst, fluff, smut ˒ wordcount: 𝟺𝟹𝟹𝟷 ˒ tags: friends2lovers, fake dating, musician!eita ˒ cw: dirty talk, loss of virginity, virgin kink if u squint: sweet talking, pet names, mean girl ex, mutual pining, unrequited love(?), angst with a happy ending, UNEDITED

+ note: this is a collab along with the other writers for the kkc! i would also like to thank @bokutobabie​ 𝖿for her help with this plot bc it was kickin’ my ass.

˖˖ summary: when he was an unknown musician, his girlfriend left him. now that he’s made it, he wants to make her jealous at a fancy party so he can get her back.unfortunately, he asks you to be his fake date. the downside? you have a very real crush on him.

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collab masterlist!

© all content belongs to seita 2020. do not modify or repost.

“I have a proposition,” is never a sentence you want to hear when you sit down to lunch with your best friend. Especially when that friend is Semi Eita. 

“What..?” you ask apprehensively, taking the cup of coffee he’d obviously gotten to bribe you. You took it regardless, not willing to pass up the offer of free coffee.

“Nana is gonna be at the party this weekend,” he muttered, swirling his fingertips around the rim of his cup. You felt your heart drop into the pit of your stomach at his words, “I want you to come and pretend to be my date.”

Just as you’d expected. Not something you wanted to hear.

Nana was Eita’s first love, his first serious relationship, really. They got together when he was fresh out of highschool, the two of them spending almost all of their time together. 

It was when his career as a musician was just beginning, he was playing small gigs and there was nothing really successful. But he was happy. And he thought she was too.

Until she dumped him in favor of a much more famous man. He was a big movie producer and offered her a leading role in an upcoming film. Of course, she took the offer. 

She would much rather be mingling with the rich and famous than be hanging out with “a nobody like him”, as she put it. You remembered the hurt Eita felt, the tears and heartbreak it took almost 3 years for him to get over. 

“Why?” you finally asked with a sigh, “What will that accomplish?”

“Well if she gets jealous, she might want to get back with me,” he grinned impishly, shrugging his shoulders like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You recognized the look in his eyes, one of determination. So you sighed, nodding your head, “Alright, I’ll be your date.”

He beamed, uttering out endless thanks to you as you went on with your lunch until he decided to go back to the studio. He slipped his hat on low, making sure his mask was in place before hugging your goodbye and leaving you sitting alone at the table. 

You sighed, downing the last of your coffee. Your spirits were low; you had no idea what to expect from this party. 

Would she fall for it and run back into his arms now that he had had his big breakthrough and became mainstream? She surely must have known by now; his band was already breaking records, wracking up fans by the thousands, his songs were being played on the radio. 

Maybe now that he was famous enough, she’d actually want to be with him. Not that she deserved him. And he didn’t deserve someone like that, either. He was too good for her, too good to be treated like that. 

You let out another sigh and stood up, grabbing your purse from the back of the chair.

This was going to be painful. You weren’t sure how you would cope with pretending to be his girlfriend all for the sake of him getting back with her. 

Surely your heart wouldn’t be able to take it.

Because as much as you tried to hide it, you were irrevocably in love with your best friend.

The entire getup was supplied to you by Eita; from the jewelry to the dress itself. You felt like a different person. Despite the fact he was your best friend, you hadn’t attended one of the big parties since his band’s breakout single. 

This particular party wasn’t in celebration of his band, but he was invited regardless so naturally he went. He was still enjoying the high life and was getting used to tasting fame. You were glad it hadn’t actually affected his personality. 

“You look nice today,” Tendou complimented with a breezy smile. He was nursing a glass of champagne, which was uncharacteristic to say the least. He had always been more of a whiskey kind of guy.

“Thanks,” you shrugged, “I’m not really a fan of this kind of thing.”

“I know,” he grinned, “You look terribly uncomfortable, that’s why I came over to be such a good pal and keep you company while your darling boyfriend is off galavanting with the people!”

You rolled your eyes, “He’s not my boyfriend, Satori.”

He giggled, taking glee in your embarrassment, “But you wish he was.”

“Are you already drunk?” you raise a brow, making him snicker.

Someone called his name from the crowd and he flashed you a knowing grin, “Eita may be too dim to see it, but the rest of us aren’t!”

You pout and find yourself alone once again. Looking around, you search for your ‘boyfriend’. Suddenly, a heavy arm falls across your shoulders and the familiar scent of his cologne reaches your nose. 

“Hey, babygirl,” he coos, making your heart skip a beat at the pet name. He sounds so fond and you feel yourself smiling before he busts out laughing, shaking his head before letting his arm fall from your shoulders, “That’s just so weird. I dunno if I’ll be able to get through this tonight,” Ouch. “Anyway, Nana just arrived so…” he takes your hand but you can’t bring yourself to smile as you feel the ache in your heart at his words.

If he takes note of your deflated behavior, he doesn’t say anything, merely leading you over to the balcony. You breathe in the fresh air and feel the ache in your chest dull.

“Eita? Is that you?” a perky voice makes you cringe. 

“Nana,” Eita breathes, tugging you against his side as she breaks through the crowd to stand in front of the two of you.

Her smile promptly disappears at the sight of you crowded in Eita’s arms.

“Eita...who’s this?” she asks, a smile returning but you can tell it’s plastic. 

You remembered everything you had gone over with him before the party; the two of you had sat down for a few hours to sort out your story and rules. It had felt like you were making a binding contract with him when you told him no kissing on the lips. It was your only stipulation and you swore you saw a brief downward tug of his lips when you told him before he beamed and readily agreed. 

Maybe you were imagining that disappointment in his eyes too. 

“This is my girlfriend, _____,” Eita introduced, giving your arm an affectionate squeeze.

“Oh,” she gave you a strained smile and held out her hand for you to shake. When you slipped your hand into hers, she gave it a tense squeeze that made you flinch, “I’m Nana, Eita’s ex.”

“I’ve uh…” you cleared your throat and pulled your hand away, “I’ve heard stories about you.”

“All good I’m sure,” she replied flippantly before setting her sights on him once more, “We should totally catch up, you know? Reminisce about the good old times~”

The sultry, flirtatious undertone made your skin crawl. Even if you weren’t really dating, she thought you were and for her to not respect that made you angry. But still, Eita pulled away and placed a kiss against your temple that set your heart ablaze.

“Sure, why not?” he grinned and gave your hand a squeeze, “You go have some fun, sweetheart. I’ll catch up with you later.”

You gave him a hollow wave as he quickly vanished into the crowd without a second glance your way. You knew this was the end goal but still, to see him walking away hurt. A sense of rejection was seeded within you and you felt your spirits slowly being crushed. 

It took all your power to continue on with the party until it felt acceptable to leave. Throughout the party, you kept getting glances of the two of them. 

Eita wore a serene smile, his eyes sparkling as he looked at her. Whenever she looked at him with a flirtatious smile and a subtle caress, you felt jealousy pool in the core of your stomach. You wanted to march over there and scream “he’s mine!”. But you couldn’t, because he wasn’t really yours. 

He was only pretending to be yours so he could have her. 

Your phone vibrated as you downed your final glass of wine, making you look at the screen with a frown.

“I’m heading to Nana’s apartment for the night! See if Satori can give you a ride home, thanks for the help!!”

Your jaw ached from how hard you were forcing yourself to keep from crying. When you tried to find the elusive redhead, you found he was drunk and dancing with two girls so you decided to leave him be and simply call an Uber. 

For just a short time, you had simply been a contract girlfriend for him to use. Though you knew it was fake, it still felt so nice to be called his. 

So you went home, removing your expensive clothing like Cinderella after the ball and decided to relax on the couch. It was only a little past midnight when you got out of the shower, turning on the TV to watch whatever late night nonsense was playing. 

Eita thought that being with Nana again would be everything he wanted. But as he laid beside her, her head resting on his naked chest, strangely all he could think of was you. 

When he asked you to pretend to be his date, he hadn’t thought of the possibility of how it would really feel. Sure, he had touched you before, naturally. Sometimes he hugged you and held your hand. But that night, when he placed the kiss against your head, the way your eyes lit up in response had his heart stuttering when he thought back to it. 

Truth be told, when you told him he couldn’t kiss you he felt so...disappointed. He had thought of assigning the same rule but decided against it at the last moment, secretly thinking about how nice it may feel to kiss you. 

He had quickly dashed that though because of how wrong it was to think of you like that. 

Yet there he was, thinking of you with his ex girlfriend back in his arms again.

“Eita?” Nana asked, lifting her head to look drowsily at him, “Are you okay?”

“Um...yeah,” he clears his throat, “I should probably get going.”

“Why?” she whines, “Don’t worry about her.”

“Huh? Who?” he asks, confused.

She giggles and clings to his arm, “Your girlfriend! She doesn’t have to know!”

His heart ached at those words -- true, you weren’t really dating but he felt like he had done something wrong. And for some reason Nana’s blatant disregard that he had cheated with her made him nauseous.

“I...I just want to see if she made it home safely,” he gave her a tight lipped smile and picked up his phone. 

She rested against the pillow, head propped up on her hand as she watched him dial you. When you didn’t answer, he gave a frustrated sigh and dialed Satori instead. 

It rang a few times before the slurred voice of his best friend answered, “H-Hey man, what’s up?”

“Satori, did you drop _____ off okay?” Eita asked.

The redhead made a confused sound over the line, “What’re you talkin’ about? She never asked me to take her anywhere.”

“What?” Eita frowned, “Did you see her leave the party?”

“Gotta tell ya, man, I wasn’t watchin’ her,” Tendou replied, a feminine giggle in the background making Eita frown, “Wasn’t that supposed to be your job?”

Eita sighed, shaking his head, “Alright, dude, just...let me know if you hear from her.”

“Hah? Why would she call me?” Satori chuckled, “Why don’t you just check on her? Better safe than sorry...I mean, she’s a cute girl, you never know what kinda scoundrels were eyeing her in that pretty little dress tonight. If i was a less honorable friend, she would be the one in my bed right now!”

Eita scoffed and hung up as his friend started cackling gleefully over the line. Eita stood up, shaking off Nana’s grabby hands as he slipped his jeans back on.

“You’re not going back to her, are you?” she pouted.

Eita sighed, “I gotta check on her. No one knows where she went off to.”

“She’s a big girl, c’mon Eita~” she purred, letting the sheet fall from her bare body as she crawled towards him.

He shook his head and threw his shirt on, grabbing his keys off of her dresser before moving to the door, “I gotta see her.”

He ignored her obnoxious whining as he bolted out the door. Any sleepiness that was in his system had evaporated at the worry he felt over you. 

The drive to your apartment was quick enough, it went by in a blur. He took two steps at a time up to your place on the 3r floor, not patient enough to wait for the elevator. 

The knock on your door made you jump. Throwing the pillow you held in your lap aside, you checked through the peephole to see a familiar head of sandy blonde hair. 

Pulling the door opened, you looked at him with wide eyes, “Eita? Aren’t you supposed to be with--”

“I couldn’t get a hold of you,” he breathed, stepping past you to enter your living room.

“And?” you laughed, shrugging your shoulders.

“I got worried! Why didn’t you go home with Satori?” he sighed, sitting on your couch with a huff.

You chuckled again, though it was humorless, “He looked like he was having fun, I didn’t want to impose.”

He sighs and relaxes against the couch. As you sit next to him, for a second things feel normal. 

You almost feel okay, as if you could forget about everything happening. It’s so easy to forget your crush on your best friend and the fact he wanted to be with another woman. 

It was easy to forget it all until it came rushing back into your face in the form of Nana. 

You and Eita were having a lunch date, as was normal for the two of you. Unfortunately, amid his retelling of a story you had heard a million times over, she showed up with an obnoxious screech of his name.

“Eita!” she squealed and rushed over to him, throwing her arms around his shoulders. 

You let out a soft sigh, your eyes falling to your half-finished plate.

“Nana…” he greeted, eyes wide in shock, “H-How did you find me? What’re you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you, silly!” she chirped, taking a seat in his lap in a way that was far too comfortable. Suddenly, her gaze shifted to you and the smile vanished off of her face, “Oh, you’re here.”

“Nana…” Eita sighed but didn’t make any move to get off of him.

“What? I thought you were going to break up with her?” she whined loudly, making your cheeks burn as people looked over at the two of you, “You said you were going to dump her!”

“I--” Eita started.

“You should go,” Nana grinned at you, shrugging her shoulders as she hugged Eita closer to her, “Seriously, he’s mine now. He was fucking me at that party instead of you.”

Although nothing about your relationship that night was real, the humiliation you felt at that very moment was. She was smug that she had gotten your boyfriend to cheat on you and was making a spectacle of her victory. 

Biting your lip, you reached behind you to grab your purse, “I-I’ll see you later, Eita.”

“______ wait!” he called but you were already rushing towards the entrance. 

You had no idea that he was hot on your heels until you reached your apartment. You went to close it only for the foot to intercept it. Looking over your shoulder, you found Eita panting before he was pushing the door open completely.

“_____ I--” he paused, “Why are you crying?”

“I am?” you wiped under your eyes and frowned when you felt the moisture there, promptly wiping it away, “Sh-She completely made a fool of me, Eita. I don’t know what you ever saw in her and I don’t know why I helped you get back with her.”

“I know, look…” he ran a hand through his already messed up hair, “I feel the same, alright? I’m sorry I pulled you into all this, _____, I really am. Alright, I told her to get lost.”

You sighed and took a seat on your couch, “She only wanted you back because you’re famous now. You know that right?”

He chuckled and sat down, nodding his head, “I guess I was just...hoping for something I guess.”

“What?” you asked.

He shrugged, “I don’t really remember anymore,” he confessed. 

“Well,” you didn’t quite know what to say, simply leaning back on the couch to appear relaxed, “I always wondered why you didn’t date after her anyway.”

He shrugged once more. How was he meant to say that he didn’t want anyone impeding on his time with you? 

“I guess...no one really came along, you know?”

You nodded, “I guess it’s the same for me.”

He snorted, “You’ve never even dated anyone before.”

“You don’t have to bring that up!” you whined, playfully shoving his shoulder.

He laughed, melodic and pretty, “I think it’s cute. What’s your story then?”

“Eita, we’ve been friends since high school, you know everything about me,” you smiled, feeling your cheeks warm at the soft look he was giving you.

“Yeah but…” he bit his lip, fingers inching closer towards you, “You’re...pretty and sweet. There’s plenty of good looking guys around me that have tried flirting with you before. Hell, Satori even said he was into you.”

You smiled and shook your head, “No, none of them are right…”

“Who is right then?” he asked, unable to hide the hopefulness in his voice.

“Eita…” the smile falls from your lips, your heart hammering in your chest as he moved closer towards you, “I…”

“Hm?” he hummed, his nose brushing against yours, breath fanning over your lips.

“I...I won’t regret this, will I?” you asked. 

His breathing stuttered against your skin and he shook his head, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek, “You won’t.”

After those words left his mouth, he brought your lips to his in a sweet kiss that was perfect for a first. You could tell he was experienced, knowing exactly how to move. 

There was something sweet lingering on his tongue that you found utterly addictive. 

You wish you could find it strange or even scary to wind up in bed with your best friend. The fact your entire relationship was going to be changing should have concerned you but all you felt was anticipation. 

He hovered over your body, the two of you stripping your clothes with unhurried ease. His body was firm from working out, a habit he never let go of from his time as a volleyball player. 

His hands were calloused and warm as they touched your body, caressing your breasts in a way no one ever had. The feeling of him thumbing over your nipples had your back arching in arousal, your panties becoming soaked embarrassingly fast. 

He was hard and throbbing in his jeans, the constricting material almost painful but all he really cared about in that moment was seeing all of you. 

Hooking his thumbs into the band of your panties, he pulled the material down. He cursed under his breath at the strings of slick that attached to the fabric. 

“You’re so wet,” he breathed, licking his lips as he tossed your panties over his shoulder to be lost somewhere in your room. 

“Sh-Shut up, don’t tease me…” you mumble, feeling embarrassed by your body’s own reaction to him.

He smiles, pressing a soft kiss against your knee, “I’m not, baby. It’s sweet...I love knowing you react so honestly to me.”

“Eita…” you whined, reaching up to cover your face as he spread your legs.

“Hmm?” he bites his lip, sliding two fingers between your folds to spread them apart. 

Your hole clenched around nothing, drooling more slick for him to gather on his fingertips. He used it to rub smooth circles around your clit, the sweet moan that fell from your lips at the pleasure he so easily gave you. 

“I’ll get you nice and prepped, baby,” he cooed, the nickname making your heart soar. 

You were so wet, making it easy for him to slide two thick fingers into your pretty cunt. You clamped down tight around the digits, making his cock throb at the mere thought of what that would feel like around his hard cock. 

Twisting his wrist, he crooked his fingers up to hit your sweet spot, his thumb coming up to circle around your clit. The inexperience of your body made it so easy for him to bring you to the edge. 

You had never felt this, no one had ever touched you so intimately so your body was more reactive than ever. 

Reaching down, you wrapped your hand around his wrist, meeting his gaze with wide eyes. He smiled, capturing his bottom lip between his teeth.

“You cumming?” he asked, though he could very easily feel your walls spasming around him. 

Still, you nodded, mouth falling open but no sound escaping, “E-Eita…”

“C’mon, baby,” he groaned, fasting his pace to fuck your dripping cunt. The sounds were wet, lewd and if you were with anyone else you would have been completely ashamed. But it was Eita, the person you trusted the most in the world. He groaned as your body began to quake, “Let it go, pretty girl. Cum for me, that’s it.”

At his encouragement, you released with a shrill whine of his name. He eagerly fucked your gushing cunt through the high, only slowing when your back met the bed again. 

Pulling his fingers from your hole, he was mindful of your sensitivity. He still couldn’t resist placing a fleeting kiss against your throbbing clit before sitting up to meet you for another heated kiss. 

Your body was still trembling as you wrapped your arms around his neck, your thighs spread open around his waist. His clothed cock hovered above your sensitive core and he made sure the rough material of his jeans didn’t make contact.

“Please, Eita, c-can we…?” you asked, biting your lip, too embarrassed to utter the words.

He smiled and nodded, brushing some hair behind your ear before sitting up to discard the remaining clothing on his person. His skin was pretty, tanned and built. His cock reached his navel, dripping precum down the length which he used to easily slick his cock up with his fist. 

The sight of your best friend jerking himself off over your naked, trembling body felt beyond taboo. But it only made you more eager to have him. 

“Please, Eita...I want you,” you breathed. 

He flashed you a smile and sat up on his knees, sliding the dripping tip between your folds. Brushing past your clit, you whined at the sensitivity. 

“It might hurt a bit, pretty baby,” he whispered, positioning himself at your entrance. 

You had already guessed it. He was big just by looking at him. But nothing compared to when he began to sink into you -- that’s when his size really became apparent. 

“Ah, Eita!” you whined, digging your nails into his shoulders.

He hissed but didn’t stop you, eyes falling to where his cock was steadily stretching you open. When he got halfway in, he pulled back until the head remained within your clasping walls. With an experienced roll of his hips, he pushed his cock back in, this time easily bottoming out. 

“Fuck!” you squealed, back arching. 

He could feel you gushing, dripping down his balls. There wasn’t a single sign of pain in your features so he quickly began to move, the both of you riled up and eager to have each other completely. 

Everything felt so right, so sweet. Having him in your arms made you feel so happy. 

“You’re mine now, baby,” he groaned, burying his face in your neck, “All mine. N-No more, fuck, of this friend shit...I love you.”

“Eita,” you whined, tears pricking your eyes as you hugged him tightly against you, “I love you too. P-Please make me cum.”

“Fuck, I’ll get you there, baby,” he promised, reaching between your bodies to find your clit. Your walls immediately clamped tight around him as he played with your little bud, “C’mon. Cum for me. I wanna feel you cream, pretty baby. Can you do that for me? Show me how good this cock makes you cum.”

His filthy words, whispered in his sweet, deep voice were enough to throw you over the edge. As you squeezed around him, trembling and gushing through the amazing orgasm, he spilled within you. A soft whimper of your name fell from his lips as his balls throbbed, cock spitting out load after load until you were so filled, it dripped from your cunt. 

Finally, the both of you stilled. He leaned back to look in your eyes, tucking some damp hair behind your ear before pecking your lips. 

“I meant it, you really are mine now,” he said.

You nodded, “You’re all mine too.”

“Well,” he gave you a teasing grin, “You have to share me with my millions of adoring fans.”

“Don’t be so full of yourself,” you giggled, biting your lip as he pulled out, “You have thousands at most.”

“Oh, way to bruise a guy’s ego,” he laughed.

You were grateful to have him, everything with him was so easy. Everything between you was fine, perfect even. And you didn’t have to worry about ever losing him to another girl again.

[sukifans]

Congrats on 1k!!! Can you do number 9 from 50 cliché promts and tropes with mako x reader? :)

MAKO + “there’s only one bed and we sleep as far away as possible from each other but wake up cuddling”

⇦ 𝘔𝘈𝘚𝘛𝘌𝘙𝘓𝘐𝘚𝘛

“Well, this is... unfortunate.”

“It’s unacceptable.” You glanced at Mako, who was visibly irritated. “First Beifong only approves one room because of ‘budget cuts,’ and now we’re expected to share a bed?”

“Relax, tough guy. I’m sure it was just a booking error. I’ll go talk to the receptionist.” You left your partner and your bag in the room with the single large bed against the wall to go downstairs and sort out the mistake. You gave the man at the desk your friendliest smile as you approached.

“Hello again,” the man said, looking up at you. “Is there a problem with the room?”

“Yes, actually. We should’ve been booked for a room with two beds but there’s only one. Could we be moved somewhere else?” You tried to sound as amicable as possible as you spoke, hoping the employee would oblige.

He flipped through the large book of records in front of him and traced his finger down a page. “Ah, yes! You reserved a double. So sorry about that—let me see what else is available.” You watched as he flipped through again, mumbling to himself. Your smile faltered a little when he frowned.

“What’s wrong?”

“It appears everything else is filled for the night. I’m terribly sorry, but there’s nothing I can do.” The man eyed you as if expecting you to blow up at him, but you just sighed and tightened your smile.

“Ah, it’s okay. We’ll figure it out. Thank you for checking, though.”

Mako was not gonna be happy.

“You’re joking,” he deadpanned, crossing his arms over his chest. You dropped down to sit on the edge of the problematic bed itself. “Are you and Beifong trying to pull a prank or something?”

You stared up at him. “Beifong? A prank? Really?”

“Okay, no,” he huffed. “But you’re kidding, right?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you think it’s funny to inconvenience me?”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Mako.”

“Tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m not joking.”

He groaned and threw himself in the threadbare armchair in the corner of the room. “Great, just what I needed,” he grumbled to himself.

“Hey, I’m not exactly thrilled about this either!” You rolled your eyes. “If you’re gonna freak out about it you can take the bed and I’ll just... sleep on the floor or something.”

“No, no. You take the bed and I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“How noble,” you laughed. “You’re the one who has a problem sleeping with me. Take the bed.”

“I—” His cheeks tinged a slight pink that didn’t escape your notice. “I don’t have a problem.”

“You sure seem to.”

“I shared a blanket with Bolin on the street for most of my childhood.”

“You must be getting spoiled with that detective salary if you can’t rough it for one night and share a bed with your favorite partner. Going soft?”

You grinned when he glared at you. “Why are you torturing me?”

“You’re easy to torture.” You stood up to rifle through your bag. “And it’s fun.”

“I’m requesting a partner transfer when we finish this assignment,” he muttered, making you bark out a laugh.

“You wouldn’t, you’re too attached now.” You straightened up with your arms full of toiletries and clean clothes. “I’m gonna go wash up so I can pass out. Early day tomorrow, and all. Catchin’ bad guys, kickin’ ass, takin’ names.”

“Uh-huh.” A small smile finally graced his handsome face for the first time since arriving at the inn. “I’ll be here keeping watch—y’know, for the bad guys.”

Once you’d scrubbed off the long day of travel and changed into clean, comfortable clothes you reentered the main room to see Mako studying the files for the case the two of you were working. His eyebrows were set into a furrow as he read through it and chewed at the inside of his cheek absently. You watched him for a few more moments once you settled down onto the worn but comfortable mattress. Something in the papers seemed to perplex him as he wrinkled his nose and flipped back a few pages. Suddenly, his warm orange eyes flicked up to meet yours.

“Why are you staring at me?” he asked with a small frown.

You shrugged. “Trying to figure out if that smell is the room or just you.”

His frown deepened. “Uncalled for.”

You hummed noncommitally and snuggled down between the sheets. “Go clean up so I can sleep.”

“I’m not stopping you,” he said, snapping the file shut and rising from the chair.

“I gotta keep watch, remember? Bad guys,” you murmured despite your heavy eyelids. Mako shook his head and disappeared into the bathroom. The gentle, steady sound of running water lulled you into a drifting sleep after only a few minutes.

You roused slightly when Mako returned, shuffling around the room followed by curling steam and the smell of his soap from the bathroom. You squeezed your eyes shut tighter and tried to fall back asleep until you felt him grab a pillow off the other side of the bed. Rolling onto your side you sleepily looked up at him.

“What are you doing?” you mumbled, rubbing at your eyes.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you up.” He stood next to a blanket on the floor with the pillow in his hand, dressed in a clean white shirt and loose pants. “I was just getting set up over here.”

You squinted at the pillow he held while your tired mind tripped over itself trying to catch up. “What?”

“I told you I’d sleep on the floor,” he said, gesturing to his makeshift sleeping area.

You blinked slowly at him. “Mako.”

“Yeah?”

“Get in the bed.”

“But—”

“I wasn’t asking,” you interrupted. “Come. To. Bed.”

He flushed lightly and opened and closed his mouth a couple times before looking down at his pillow he srill gripped. “I—I don’t want to make you... uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable?” you repeated blankly and he nodded. “I put my life in your hands every day, Mako. I trust you, probably more than I’ve ever trusted anyone. You’re not gonna make me uncomfortable. In fact, I’d be a thousand times more comfortable with you up here than on the floor.”

“Okay, okay,” he relented, finally moving back towards the bed. “You’ve made your point.”

“Good.” You closed your eyes again and yawned loudly. “The mattress is big enough we can both stay on our sides, no big deal. You need to rest well so I know you’re alert enough to save my ass tomorrow and sleeping on the floor does not reassure me.”

“I already agreed, you don’t need to keep working at me.” Mako carefully slid into the sheets, being almost calculating in how close he could stay to the edge without falling off. Even with the considerable empty space between you, you could still feel his familiar warmth seeping into your tired muscles.

“‘M a detective, can’t help it.”

“Go to sleep. You’ll have plenty of time to harass me in the morning.”

“You know you love me.”

If only you knew, he thought to himself as you slipped back into your dreamland.

The first thing you noticed upon regaining consciousness was the thumping rhythm next to your ear. The next thing you noticed was how warm you felt, despite the sheets being tangled down around your feet. You turned your head and buried your face into your pillow, inhaling deeply.

Soap. And smoke.

Hold on. You lifted your head up slowly and blinked blearily, taking in where you were as your brain whirred back to life.

Not your pillow. Mako—his chest, more specifically. Your eyes trailed down to where your bodies were pressed together in a tangle of limbs. The arm wrapped around you ended in fingers pressing into your waist. Your thigh was hiked up around his hip and his knee was slotted between your legs. You looked up at his face to see he was still sound asleep, lips parted as he breathed slowly.

You sat up all the way and his hand on your waist flopped down onto the bed. “Mako.”

He snorted and gave no other response.

“Mako,” you hissed, smacking his chest lightly. Without opening his eyes, he grabbed your hand and yanked you back down.

“Don’ hit me,” he grumbled, lips brushing your forehead as he spoke. “‘M sleepin’.”

Your face was starting to burn. “Well, wake up!”

He cracked one eye open to peer down at you and closed it again with a sniff. All at once it seemed to hit him and his eyes flew open as he shot upwards, knocking you to the side. You groaned as he launched himself out of the bed and onto his feet.

“What time is it?!” he barked.

“I don’t know!”

He whipped his head around to look at the clock on the bedside table. He made a small noise of panic and snatched it up as if getting a closer look would change the reading it gave.

“Fuck, we’re late!”

thank you for the request! i hope you enjoyed it! it ended up being way longer than i thought it would be lol. i guess i’ll tag my atla list and the people who wanted to be tagged in my full mako fic lol

ATLA TAGS: @hotgirlazula @octophopi @blazedbakugou @protect-remus @akiris @sunflowerazula @wooscottoncandyhair @chewymoustachio @ohno-caroline @sunflowerr-mami @1vitamin @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @u-4iia @nymeria-targaryen @tommy-braccoli @dizzy-miss-lizzieeeeee @a-sloppy-bitch

REQUESTED TAGS: @ur-jinji @maruchan77 @songofgratitude @missturtleduck @zuko-is-the-sun @xxspqcebunsxx @atlabeth @malauri-lynn @sadskater25 @biqherosix @goodandevil18 @theeavtrkyoshi @miyonii @mcallmestiles @zutaraisendgamee @unketh @shortmexicangirl @keysvdssstuff @simmantha

[anunvalidcritic]

MORTAL KOMBAT (2021)

(DISCLAIMER: MY OPINION IS MY OWN AND CAN BE DEEMED INVALID TO THOSE WHO DON’T CARE FOR IT.)

I don’t even what to say in this introduction... I mean... *sigh* don’t get me started on Sanada Hiroyuki (what an icon)! And freakin’ Lewis Tan and Ludi Lin! Those two have come a long way and so cool to see them show up and show out in this movie, but let’s not forget the others! You know what... let me hold my tongue because I can’t make this introduction to long KMSL. “LET’S GOOOOO!” - BUSTA RHYMES

ofc the opening scene is of Hiroyuki!

this is a Sanada Hiroyuki stan page and if you don’t like that, you can get tf out!

the door is to the right!!!!

bro you can whispering my ear too

That baby got quiet awfully quick.

“Where’s Hanzo?” - BI-HAN

he’s fetching water bruh

I genuinely thought the flowers on the tree were blood stains... i gotta get my eyes checked. 

He stopped crying real quick!!!

UGHH right through the fucking skull!

Y’all fuckin’ with the wrong one!!! But then again, you got the wrong one at the right time. So, 

GOOOODDDDDAAMMNNN!!!!!!

HE ABSOLUTELY FUCKIN’ SALTURED THEM!!!!!!

“I may not understand your words... but I promise I will kill you.” - HANZO

BI-HAN said that shit in Mandarin (forgive me if I’m wrong) out of spite. He said it in his native tongue because he knew if he said that shit in Japanese he would’ve gotten cut the fuck off! That motherfucka truly is foul lol. 

Got that fuckin’ cheek though ROFL

That baby better not make a fuckin’ sound during this fight!

Come on!

NOOO HIROYUKI!!!!!!! oh shit, I mean HANZO!!

Get away from the fuckin’ rock, bro!

HANZO GET CHO ASS UP

AHHH FUCK!

his blood is runnin’ like a river...

oh now that’s just nasty... that wound is deep as fuck! (ik I’m dramatic, get tf over it)

...well shit did the baby starve...

nvm they answered my remark lol (it’s been a while since playing/watching MK so I vaguely remember the storyline...)

“Earthrealm is on the verge of catastrophe should it lose one more tournament, the savage realm of Outworld will invade but an ancient prophecy fortells that a new group of champions will be united by the rise of Hanzo Hasashi’s blood.” 

Listen, I’m here for the violence... I don’t give two fucks about a romantic storyline, and I put that on me constantly playin’ this game as a child.

SUB-ZERO is.... cold blooded...

pre-fucked up JAX

first things first, why tf is your child puttin’ your business out there in the streets like?!

snow in July ain’t that somethin’ huh

he said BLADE like he was speakin’ to the vampire LOL

“And they will kill whoever they have to to get to you.” - JAX

“You want your family on a fucking slab in the morgue.” - JAX

bruh they can hear you rofl 

I still think it’s so cool that he was able to freeze that bullet. 

JAX + SUB-ZERO = severe frostbite... (ik ik I’m full of shit kmsl)

I understand that film makers only have a limited amount of time to film, but the scene where SONYA explains everything to COLE felt rushed. But once again, I understand.

“Kano. Kano none of your fucking business!” - KANO

KANO’s always hilarious, no matter what the setting is. 

Mini Godzillia

“You gotta pen you wanna write this down. Get fucked.” - KANO

“3 million, that’s my final offer.” - KANO’

dude, it was your only offer lol

LIU KANG!!

“Alright MC Hammer, that’s far enough.” - KANO

KANO comin’ in hard with these one liners

ICONIC DIALOGUE

LIU KANG - “There’s much to learn.”

KANO - “The fuck?”

LIU KANG - “But not here. Follow me.”

Ofc the one with fuckin’ GORO speaks to KANO

dude KUNG LAO came out the ground just the video games!!!!

“The time has come to end this.” - 

Who tf gave KANO some snacks?!

KUNG LAO smooth with it

I wouldn’t want to fight LUDI LIN as a character in a movie or real life...

listen... ik she’s trying to be encouraging but I would’ve been told her to such tf up

I can’t deal with KANO man lol

how tf does he have his phone??

“Yeah, that screech is a real turn on.” - KABAL

I don’t think NIATRA looks the greatest... they could’ve done better...

“Well, well, well you back stabbing two faced ugly motherfucker.” - KABAL

well, we already knew KANO was a trader

Alright so COLE’s armor is on that Black Panther shit ya feel me

I skipped through the hugging scene because... I said what I said... fuck the lovey dovey shit..

goddamn it not KUNG LAO

“Please tell me I get the bitch with the teeth.” - SONYA

FINISH HIM!!!

“Yeah, these motherfuckers work.” - JAX

KANO + ACETONE = Stitch with a Glitch

At least she left her spine intact...

you need to channel SCORPION GODDAMN IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

LET HIS ASS OUT!!!!!

Bro that’s pretty rad to see your ancestor kickin’ ass in person

I’m on HANZO’s side, but that blood-icicle was pretty lit. 

oh shit... triggered

Listen, I don’t fully understand Japanese but I would’ve walked tf away as well rofl

Man, look at Hiroyuki in all his greatness!

FATALITY BITCH!!

“Take care of my bloodline.” - HANZO

Oh, damn not CAGE lol

____________

What a whirlwind! I’m still stuck Sanada Hiroyuki! I wish that film was of origin story for some characters that could’ve continued onto the next movie within the franchise, but I understand what’s trying to be executed by the director, scriptwriters, film company, crew, and actors. I’m going to leave it at for right now... I’m gonna sleep on this one, literally lol. When I come back, I’ll write a better closing statement. Until then, continue to remember that everyone’s a critic when their opinion matters the least. 

Edit 4/26/21:

I’m still trying to find the right words to sum this up. I don’t think I have anything bad to say... 6.5/10... that’s all I’m gonna say for now 😂

[jshookthighs]

A Change in Plans - Leslie Vernon x GN! Reader

Warnings: angst, blood, violence, mention of death

Word Count: 1067

Summary: You and Leslie were supposed to enjoy a nice relaxing evening to congratulate his newest killings. whelp that’s not what happened 

A/N: Sorry if this one’s not as good, kinda rushed it but had this idea in my head for a bit

This was not how you thought you'd spend the evening. You were expecting to celebrate a successful night with the meal you had spent all day making just for Leslie. But here you were, standing in front of a bloody and bruised man sitting on the toilet top.

"Owwwww!" The whine pulled you from your thoughts. "Sorry, hun, almost done." You reassured as the thread pulled through his skin again, closing the slash on his shoulder. "Kiss it better?" He was giving you that puppy dog look that you couldn't help but laugh at. You leaned down, pressing the softest kiss imaginable just below the gash. Leaning back, you placed one hand over top of your completed work and one against his swollen cheek, being careful not to cause more pain to either spot.

That girl was tough and Leslie had been just a bit too slow when she plunged a broken ax head into him. He said she was an easy final pick. It was supposed to go smoothly tonight. No, definitely not how this night was supposed to go. With a ghost of a smile, you reach both hands to gently cup his bruised cheeks. She got him good. Real good. It scared the shit out of you. 

When he had first stumbled in, you hadn't seen Leslie, just shouted to welcome him home and went to greet him at the door with your famous apple pie. The dessert had crashed to the floor when you were met with a badly battered Les. Blood was all you saw as he grappled onto the wall attempting to not collapse then and there.

"Honey, I'm home!" Of course, Leslie had some smart-ass thing to say. Any other time you would have smacked him in the arm, but you didn't have the heart in this condition. It all blurred after that. The dragging him to the bathroom, the questions of what the hell happened, the flinches from the antiseptic, it all went by in a flash. You focused on fixing him up.

Careful fingers drag over the fresh stitches and you can’t help but sigh at the sight. But, with all the cleaning and initial panic out of the way, the sudden realization hit you like a ton of bricks: you almost lost Leslie. The breath in your lungs feels sucked out and the hands that were still on his cheek and arm now collapse to your side. Tears prick at your eyes as you repeat that horrible reality: You almost lost him. The very idea sends your heart to the floor. You can't stop the flow of tears nor the harsh choked sob that rips itself from your throat. You throw your arms around of neck and just squeeze him close.

Leslie didn't know why you were crying, and he definitely hated the sight. He never wanted you to be sad, never wanted you hurt, never wanted that gorgeous smile to disappear from your face. Words of comfort were in the front of his mind, but the only thing he could get out was a hiss of pain when your elbow hit right into his shoulder.

You don’t hear him, or it's more like you don’t care at this moment. The sound meant he was alive. Your sobs violently wrack your frame, filling up the small bathroom with all the dark thoughts of what you'd do without him. You think of how utterly miserable you’d be. You think of the endless nights and unimaginable pain of living without Leslie. Before the incoming spiral of your nightmares, battered arms weakly reciprocate your harsh embrace, moving up and down your back to quell your shaking body.

"Why ya cryin', sweetheart?" With how softly Les asks you don't know how you don't burst into another round of tears. The question makes you tighten your grip around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer. "Hey, hey I'm alright honey, I'm right here. Still kickin'!" Leslie laughed with a wince, the jostling aggravating his new stitching. He’s trying so hard to make you feel better and your heart can’t help but flutter for a second at that notion. It quickly dies down, remembering the situation. He knows you so well; knows how to make you laugh and smile just the way he loves. Unfortunately for him, you’re not quite in the mood for a chuckle.

"But what if you weren't ok, Les? What if you died out there? What am I gonna do?" It breaks Leslie's heart to hear you like this. He never really thought about that. All he knew was that every day he wanted to come home to you and never even considered that maybe one day he wouldn't. No creature on earth could keep him away from you, especially not some preppy virgin bitch with a decent swing. He knew even then as he bled the whole way home that he’d make it back to your sweet face. He loved you for God’s sake.

"Aww baby, you ain't gotta worry 'bout that. I'll always come back." Leslie pulls back from your arms to wipe about the streak of tears on your puffy cheek. "It'll take a whole hell of a lot more to get rid of me." He can't help but add a quip that, to his delight, elicits a smile out of you. A sad one but one nonetheless.

Your hand raises to clasp tightly onto his wrist. "Promise?" The words are strained and border on a plea.

"Promise." In contrast, Les is firm in what he says. For a moment, you almost believe him.  "Now, I'm starving and I know you worked so hard on dinner. Let's eat ok?" Using your shoulders as leverage he shakily pulls himself up to stand. He softly grips your hand into his and begins to lead you out of the mess that is the bathroom. 

"Okay." You sniffle and help him to the dinner table, knowing the food is most likely cold by now. Not that Les would ever complain.

You knew he couldn't promise the inevitable, couldn't promise to defy death itself, but you didn't care right now. Leslie was here, alive, and mostly in one piece. You'd take what you can get. But as you sat across from him at the table you made a silent vow: you'd help him next year and make sure this never happens again. 

[old-love]

Fourth of July

Summary: Fourth of July with the cobras :)

Warnings: minor language & alcohol

Well, here you are sitting in the bed of a truck out in Billy's back fields, following the yearly tradition. A tradition that had started in junior high with your childhood friends.

You've been kickin rocks in the dirt with these boys since you were diapers and you didn't have  a problem with that.

   You took a swig of your beer, making sure to watch how much you drank because we all know what happens after six beers. You sat up slightly, stretching out your back, as you watch Billy and Charlie argue over how the fire works should be done. You sighed and just shook your head. Gosh, those two were something else.

  "What's with you?" You heard Ace's rough voice ask, “Because if you start bitchin, I'm going to take your ass home." The boy threatened as he turned his head to look at you.

"Oh, just thinking about how fucking brainless those two are, Johnny~" you hummed before a shit eating grin pulled at your lips.  No matter how many times they told you not, you'd always call them by their real names just to piss them off.

"Jesus fucking Christ, (y/n)! I've told you before to not call me that! Do it again and I'll gut you." Ace grumbled angrily before throwing his tooth pick at you.

  You smiled sweetly before flipping the bird to Ace.

After that interaction, you and Ace fell into a silence, but a comfortable one at that.

"Hey (nickname), wanna light any off?" Eyeball asked, asking if you wanted to help shoot off any of the fireworks. He then waved his zippo in the air.

"Not this time, almost blew my fingers off last year." You laugh slightly as you politely declined your friend’s offer. Last year, you partook in some of indecent actions. Which was throwing ground flowers at each other.  You had lit one up and before you could throw it, it had decided to blow in your hand. Nothing too serious happened, but only a few blisters.

  "Yeah, wouldn't want you getting hurt again." Eyeball said as he puffed the smoke of his cigarette through his nose.

The night went off with the little fireworks, which was filled with laughs and the boys fucking off and being rather dumb. 

As all of you finished off the small fireworks and finally worked up to the bigger ones.

All of you had pitched in some money to get one of those really N I C E fireworks and , of course you were gonna shoot it off and now was the time.

  Billy took his lighter to the wick of the firework, causing it to spark and run down. Billy quickly dashed away, avoiding any dangers.

Everyone watched, waiting for it, but nothing happened. You all heard it shoot off but nothing happened, just awkward silence. The silence was broken by eyeball howling in laughter, causing the others to laugh as well.

"Shit, man , shit!" Vince shouted as he slammed his first against the hood of his car, most of his money wasted on a fluke firework.

——-

I wrote this last year and decided to post it here. I still find this one so funny.

[caslightgatekeepgirlboss]

The Soul of a Woman- chapter 2

i'm so glad i finally got this finished in time for @sapphicnaturalrights week!!! posting in 2 parts because of tumblr's stupid post length rules. part 2 in the reblogs.

read chapter 1 here.

prompt: day 7- free space

pairing: jo harvelle x bela talbot

word count: 5.8k

*

The blade of the clippers caught the harsh fluorescent light shining above the bathroom mirror. If she moved her head this way and that, it twinkled like a far away taillight, or like a star when the sky was real clear. Like that time she went camping with her mom and dad. The sky'd been so clear that night you could see the Milky Way.

Jo caught her own eye in the mirror. She had deep blue bags under her eyes, an ugly purple bruise starting to form on her jaw. She'd missed a spot of blood on her brow bone. Absently, she scratched at it, wondering if it was hers, the shifter's, or the old man's.

Anyway.

She picked up the scissors- the cheap, sturdy ones from the kitchen- and got to work on her hair, watching lock after gooey, knotty blonde lock fall into the sink. If anyone asked, she'd tell them she'd got too much shifter gunk in her hair (which, to be fair, was disgusting) for it to be salvageable; but, if she was honest, she'd been waiting for an excuse to do this for a long time. She was sick of old guys touching it, commenting on it, she was sick of being treated like a silly little girl with her long blonde hair, she was especially sick of how many ghosts and monsters seemed to have a thing for pretty petite blondes. So that was it: fire sale, everything must go. Looking in the mirror, hair shorn choppy and short, she thought, hey, maybe this is my Britney moment.

Next: clippers. If she was gonna do this, she was gonna do it properly. She turned them on and off a few times, testing them, listening to the comforting buzz of the tiny motor, before setting the guard in place and carefully skimming the blade up along one side of her head.

Somewhere outside, the sun would just be rising. The police would be busting into a house and finding a man with a snapped neck in one room and an unexplainable pile of gunky flesh in the next. They'd probably already be chalking it up to a bad day, leaving it to the lab, and wondering what to have for lunch. Meanwhile, a little girl would be learning that she doesn't have a grandaddy anymore.

Took her a while to get her hair looking more-or-less presentable, but she got there in the end. Short on the sides, a little longer on top, long enough for a few locks to sweep part way down over her forehead. Now, staring back at herself in the mirror, she looked- older, maybe. Less girlish. A little dykier. Definitely cleaner, free of all the grime of the hunt. She'd feel better after a shower. Some breakfast, too, if she could keep it down. She even thought about taking a nap, but the thought of seeing that old man's neck bent to a right angle every time she closed her eyes turned her stomach. No breakfast either, then.

A knock at the door. "Sweetheart? You still in there?"

Jo rubbed her eyes, turned the doorknob. Her mom blinked in surprise.

"I'm, uh, making some coffee. You want a cup?"

"Sure. Thanks. I'll be down in a sec." She turned back to the sink. Her mom's reflection cracked a small smile in the corner of the mirror.

"You missed a spot at the back, just here." She flicked a little lock at the top of Jo's neck, right at the back, and reached round for the clippers. "Got a little rat-tail goin' on. Let me get that for you."

It felt like being a little kid again, her mom doing her hair like this. It was nice, though. Familiar. Her mom must've been thinking the same thing. "Y'know, when you were little I used to put your hair up in pigtails, with those- remember those little butterfly clips you used to like, with the sparkles?"

Despite herself, Jo started to smile. "I'd always yell at you for pulling my hair too tight when you were tying it up."

Her mom laughed. "Yeah, you've always been a pain in my ass. Kickin' and screamin' at the world since the second you came into it."

They were quiet for a moment. Her mom set down the clippers and wrapped her arms around Jo's waist, resting her head on her shoulder. In the mirror, their faces side by side like this, twin bruises on their jaws, they could almost be a before-and-after of the same woman. One hardened, professional, efficient hunter; one useless, doe-eyed idealist.

"We did good tonight, baby." Her chin dug into Jo's shoulder when she talked. Jo laughed bitterly. "I mean it."

"A man died on our watch."

She sighed. "It happens. Fuckin' awful when it does, but it happens. Main thing is, we took out the shifter. He won't be hurting nobody else."

"Really? That's the main thing?" She shrugged her off, not knowing why she suddenly felt so angry. "A man died tonight- a man who trusted us to help him, to save him- but hey, at least we got to shoot something."

"Don't get all high and mighty with me, Joanna. You know what this job is, you knew what you were getting into."

Jo whipped around to face her. "What's the point of this fucking job if we don't save people? Ain't that what we're fucking here for?"

"We are! You think hunters do what we do for kicks? Hell no. We do it so everyone else can sleep at night. And yeah, sometimes we get there too late, we screw up, we lose a fight. Sometimes people get hurt. But we get out there every day and we do our damned best. Because nobody else will."

Jo stopped, breathed. Broke a little. "What if it's not enough?"

Her mom's expression softened. She pulled her in and held her tight. She ran a hand through her newly-short hair. "Sometimes it's not. We all gotta make our peace with that."

Her face buried in her mom's hair, muscles sore from the hunt, breath catching on tears, Jo Harvelle made a promise to herself: Next time, I'll be enough. Next time, nobody dies.

*

There was a woman- an old friend of the Harvelles, who came by the bar sometimes- named Judy Orson. Judy was built like a damned grizzly bear. She was a big woman in every sense of the word: big biceps, big belly, big voice, big hands, big personality. She kept her hair cropped short, almost always under an old trucker cap, she wore big boots and sturdy jeans and well-worn flannels, and she had more tattoos than Jo could ever count (her favourite were her knuckle tats- "B-U-T-CH D-Y-K-E"). She had lines in her forehead that grew deeper when she scowled, and crow's feet that crinkled when she smiled. She could be fucking scary when she wanted to be, drawn up to her full height, voice lowered to a growl, fixing you with that hard glare- but to Jo, she was her loveable Aunt Judy, all hugs and smacks on the back and roaring laughter. She was soft as a teddy bear, really. Other than her mom, Judy Orson was probably Jo's favourite person in the whole world.

If anyone could cheer Jo up right now, it was her. Good timing, then, when she walked into the Roadhouse that afternoon.

Judy was halfway to the bar before she noticed her- the tell-tale jangle of the keys on her belt pulling her head down from the clouds. She realised she'd been cleaning the same glass for the past ten minutes. Jo's head snapped up at the sound, and she felt the warmth of familiarity wash over her. "Judy! Long time no see."

Judy's face cracked into a smile. "Hey, kiddo! Nice haircut! You take after your aunt." She rubbed the back of her own hair to demonstrate.

Nothing like shooting the shit with Judy for a while to take her mind off things. She'd just finished a hunt of her own- helping a couple of restless spirits cross over to the other side, and giving a living family some peace and quiet in their own home at the same time. Jo thought that was a nice way to look at hunting. She asked after Dolly, Judy's femme- her wife (in every way that mattered) of nearly twenty years- and learnt that she'd recently gotten into fostering kittens and had nearly burnt the house down baking last week. She'd also saved a small town from a couple of hungry werewolves.

"How 'bout you?" Judy finished, taking a swig of her beer, "You got a girl on your mind at the minute?"

Jo could've laughed. Oh, she had a girl on her mind, sure- but for entirely different reasons. "Please, the scene round here's pretty much non-existent. I'm tired of dating my exes' exes, y'know?"

Judy tutted. "You're tellin' me."

A dull crash from the back room told her that Ash was on his way over. Jo tensed. Ash hadn't left his room all day: either he was after another beer, or he'd finally found something.

"Listen, kid," Judy continued, as Ash emerged from behind the rickety wooden door, "If you're ever passin' by, you should stop by mine and Dolly's. There's this nice girl works at the market down the road, you should-"

But Jo had stopped listening as soon as she saw the laptop in Ash's hands. "- Thanks, Judy, but, uh- would you excuse me one sec?"

Judy waved her away, and Jo stormed over to the table Ash had slumped down at.

"You got a hit?"

"G'morning to you too, bro," Ash retorted. He patted the seat next to him anyway and tilted the laptop round to face Jo as soon as she sat down. There were about a million tabs open- some news articles, some crowded databases, some unreadable chunks of code. Jo looked at him blankly. He passed her a pair of headphones, moved a few tabs around till he found the audio file he was looking for, and pressed play.

The little sound wave depicted on the screen jumped up and down as a man's tinny, crackly voice played through the headphones. "Alpha to Charlie, do you copy? ... That British lady was back on fifth floor... Yeah, she knows it's restricted access. Doesn't seem to bother her... She said she's a buyer at the auction. Could you check the guest list for a Bela Lugosi?"

Ash hit pause and looked at Jo triumphantly. "Am I the best, or am I the best?"

She rested the headphones on her neck and exhaled. "You're the fuckin' best, man. Where'd you find this?"

"Don't you worry about that, just get yourself down to Lincoln City Museum tonight." He pulled up the events page on the museum's website. The first listing was for an antiques auction, starting 7pm that night: A fine collection of Colonial and Native American artefacts dating back to the mid-15th century, from the estate of the late Charles Buckingham-Duponte.

*

Her battered old pick-up truck wasn't exactly standard issue for the FBI, so she parked about a block away from the museum. She checked herself out in the rear view mirror, straightened her blouse and jacket; not too masculine, to avoid suspicion, but not so feminine that it made her skin crawl. Satisfied that she'd fussed with her hair enough to look presentable, she flipped open the glove compartment, rifled through a bunch of fake ID's, and grabbed the one she needed.

It's almost ritualistic, getting ready for a hunt. There's a certain routine to it, sort of like a dance. You put on your costume. Assume a certain air. Hold yourself differently. You take one last look through your folders, finalising the details of the plan in your head (and the back-up plan, in case the first plan goes to shit). You swing out of your car, slam the door, open the trunk. You pick out your weapons. You pick them carefully- feeling the weight of each one, assessing their usefulness, their range, how easy they are to conceal. Once you're satisfied, you pack 'em up: pistol in your shoulder holster, switchblade in your back pocket, Dad's knife in the inner chest pocket of your jacket. For luck.

She hoped she wouldn't need all that- the luck or the weapons- but it never hurt to be cautious. Bela had played her once, she wasn't gonna let her play her again.

Lincoln City Museum tried its best to look grandiose in juxtaposition to the grey-and-brown-and-grey old buildings that surrounded it, like a plastic rose among the thorns. Posters either side of the main entrance announced tonight's auction, showcasing a few of the fancier items on sale; on the left, a silver necklace dotted with emeralds, on the right, an age-worn totem pole. It felt a little disrespectful. It was still a little early, but already a steady stream of people in suits and evening dresses were making their way inside. Jo stood taller, put on her fed-walk, and followed them in.

A skinny young man in a blazer that was a couple sizes too big stood in the atrium with a clipboard, crossing names off a list and directing auctioneers through another set of double doors. He looked expectantly at Jo as she walked in. "Good evening, ma'am, welcome to LCM. Can I take your-?"

Jo cut him off with a flash of her badge. "FBI. Here to speak to the head of security, mind showing me the way?"

Her tone brokered no argument. The clerk didn't look like the kind of guy who dealt with the feds on a regular basis; the fear on his face said as much. Jo could almost hear him ask himself if she could smell last night's weed on him. He stammered a quick "Wait here one sec, miss- ma'am- officer- uh, agent, ma'am-" and turned to hiss a message into his walkie-talkie. She nodded her thanks and took a seat across the atrium. While she waited, she kept an eye out for any tall classy brunettes with a British accent. Well- for all of thirty seconds, anyway, before a beautiful older woman walked past with a great pair of-

"Agent Lang, I take it?" A well-built middle-aged man strode across the room and held out a hand. Jo pulled her thoughts back to the task and stood to take his hand with a nod. "Bill Coleson, head of security. We've been expecting you."

It was only when a tall figure stepped out from behind him that Jo realised she hadn't actually told the receptionist her alias. Her stomach flipped.

Bill gestured to the woman beside him. "I believe you know Ms. Lugosi, from the, ah..."

"Archaeological Conservation Society of North America," Bela finished, offering Jo her hand and her stupid, snarky, shark-tooth grin.

Jo swallowed bile and shook her hand briefly. "We've met."

Bill didn't seem to notice any animosity between the two women. He gestured towards a corridor to the left of the atrium. "Let's take this to my office."

Jo should've known from the moment she heard that recording. Bela was too smart to use fucking Bela Lugosi  as an alias, too smart to hit a town so close to a recent mark, unless she wanted to get caught. This was a trap. This was a fucking obvious trap and Jo had walked right into it.

Whatever, she was in it now. Which meant Bela, for whatever reason, wanted her here. But why? And why was the museum expecting a visit from the feds?

And how the fuck did Bela know her alias?

'Office' turned out to be a generous word for Bill's broom closet. Monitors lined one wall, showing every angle of the museum exhibits in all their grainy, grayscale glory, leaving just enough room in front of them for a small coffee-stained desk and three office chairs. Jo took the one closest to the door. Bela squeezed in beside her. Jo tried not to throw up.

"I don't know what I can tell you that I haven't already told the police," Bill began, settling down into his seat with a creak that could've come from the chair or his back. "As far as I can tell, there's nothing unusual about any of the items in Mr Buckingham-Duponte's collection. Nothing missing, nothing flagged as stolen goods, nothing that could have anything to do with the old man's death. You're caught up on the, ah, particulars of that case, I assume?"

Jo plastered on a smile. "Humour me. Always good to hear it from a fresh perspective."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bela smirk.

Bill cleared his throat. "Well, let's see. Charles Buckingham-Duponte died about a month ago in his home just outside the city- more of a mansion, really- one of those real old-money types. Well- I say 'died', it was more 'mauled to death'. His, ah-" he looked a little squeamish- "His chest was ripped open. Blood everywhere. Looked like some kinda wild animal attack, though we don't get much in Lincoln bigger than a raccoon, so unless a wolf got real lost..."

"They never found what killed him?" In her head, Jo was already narrowing down the list of suspects: werewolf, ghoul, vengeful spirit, really clever pissed-off bear. Bela or no Bela, if there was a case here, she was gonna solve it. Bill shrugged and shook his head. "You don't happen to know if his heart was missing, do you?"

The security guard looked at her with the same look everyone gives when the conversation becomes a little less FBI and a little more X-Files. "How would I know that?"

Fair enough. "And how did the museum become involved in this case?"

"We're auctioning off most of Mr Buckingham-Duponte's private collection at his family's request. The guy was a real archeology nut; must've spent most of his fortune on this stuff. But the cops have already checked everything out and decided they don't need it as evidence. I'm guessing, if you guys are here, they've changed their minds?"

Jo thought quickly. "Some new information has come to light. We just need to go over the collection again, dot the I's, cross the T's, you know how it is. My-" she glanced at Bela, "- associate here is on hand to verify the authenticity of the artifacts. It's standard procedure in cases like this."

Thankfully, Bill seemed to buy it, and Bela didn't question it. "Well, the entire collection's on display on the fifth floor. The auctioneers will be let in in half an hour, so you're free to have a look around 'til then. I'll ask the curator to meet you there, in case you need anything. I can show you the way, if you-?"

"I'm sure we'll manage. Thank you for your help, Mr Coleson." Jo rose and held out her hand.

"Any time, agent." Bill shook her hand and led them out the door. Just in time, too; if Jo had to spend another second sat next to Bela without wringing her neck, she worried she'd break out in hives.

Out in the corridor, steadfastly ignoring the woman beside her, she waited til Bill had turned the corner. Then she slammed Bela against the wall.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" she hissed, and flicked her switchblade open a hair's breadth away from Bela's throat.

Bela blew a piece of hair out of her face. "Always a pleasure to see you too, Jo."

She was so fucking arrogant. Jo tightened her grip and leaned closer. "Your name is Bela Talbot. You're 24 years old. You were raised in Surrey til your parents died in a car crash. You're a thief, a scammer, a liar, and an awful human being. You got no friends, no family, no connections, nobody who'll miss you if you don't give me back the fucking necklace."

Bela looked almost impressed. She glanced down at Jo's chest, where the necklace would hang if she hadn't fucking stolen it. The corner of her lip quirked upwards. She looked Jo in the eye. "Joanna Beth Harvelle. Born April 7th 1985, to Ellen and William Harvelle. You dropped out of community college after one year and started working in your mother's bar. Your favourite band is the Runaways, and you have a very endearing freckle under your navel. You're not the only one who can do your research, darling."

Jo felt her face grow hot. "Fuck you. You don't know the first thing about me."

"I knew how to get you to this museum."

"I tracked you here to get my necklace and some fucking answers."

Bela, infuriatingly, looked like she was enjoying this. That only pissed Jo off even more. "Ask away."

"You fucking humiliated me, Bela! Was that your plan all along, to rob me? Why'd you let me fuck you first? Did- did you even want me to fuck you? Are you even gay?"

A stupid, smarmy, shit-eating grin spread across Bela's face. She looked like a fucking viper. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, did I bruise your ego?"

"My ego?" Jo tasted bile. Her head swam. "You think this is about my fucking ego? For weeks all I've been able to think about is that I fucked you and you didn't want it. You realise how disgusting that feels? I feel like a fucking predator!"

Bela blinked. The wind seemed to leave her sails. She said nothing. Jo let her go, took a step back, felt herself deflate. She rubbed at her brow absently.

"Fuck it. Whatever. What the hell am I doing here? Keep the necklace, I don't care."

Her head pounding, she turned and walked away. Fucking waste of a journey. She'd thought confronting Bela would make her feel some semblance of peace for once. If anything, she felt worse.

She was halfway down the corridor when she heard Bela call her name. Stupidly, against all good sense, she stopped and looked back.

Bela looked deeply uncomfortable. She barely met Jo's eye. "There's still a case here. That's why I led you here. I... Need your help."

"Why the hell would I help you?"

"Hate me all you want, there's still an angry spirit in Buckingham-Duponte's collection that needs taking care of. That is your job, isn't it?"

Jo closed her eyes. Took a deep breath. Imagined herself breaking Bela's nose. And once she'd calmed down enough, she walked back. "Fine. Just- one last question."

"Hm?"

"How did you know my alias?"

Bela shrugged. A small smile broke out on her face again. "Lucky guess?" At the look on Jo's face, she added, "The poster on your wall. I figured you were more of a Lang than a Crawford."

Jo paused. Frowned. "Did you just call me a dyke?"

*

[babbushka]

Hi! I love your writing and have read everything on your page at least 3 times. I was wondering if you could do something with Pale where he’s been super busy for a few weeks and hasn’t had a whole lot of quality time with the reader and tries to make up for it with a really nice day spent together. Could have smut in it or not, up to you!

Thank you and P.S. you are also so great at being inclusive with your writing. It’s so difficult to find fanfics that make me feel included as a black woman. Thank you so so so much and be safe!

A/N: Hello my dear friend! Thank you so much for sending this request in and for your kind words. I hope that you enjoy the little something that I've written up, and that wherever you are that you're able to stay safe too!

1.2k, no warnings, just fluff :)

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It’s late in the morning, you can tell just by the sounds. Before your eyes are open, before you’re even really awake, the sounds of the apartment complex in which you live, and the little city surrounding it come to life. Traffic on the streets down below, doors opening and closing around you, people shuffling off to their jobs all make you stir in your slumber. The birds have already sung their morning songs, so it’s the lingering smell of coffee in the air and sunshine in front of your eyelids that coax you awake.

Turning on your side, you roll over into something hard, solid, sturdy. Something big and wide and warm, that has you instantly smiling, grinnin’ so damn hard before your eyes are even open that you know you gotta look like an idiot.

“Mornin’ sweetheart.” A deep rumbling voice presses a kiss to your cheek, and you don’t give him the opportunity of pullin’ away, before your arms wind around his neck and keep him close to you, smilin’ smilin’ smilin’.

“Pale?” You sigh dreamily as you finally blink yourself all the way awake, letting your vision focus on the playful smirk of your very own VSOP, who scoffs at the rhetorical question.

“No it’s the milkman -- ‘course it’s me. Who else do you think I’d be? You got a bunch of other boyfriends comin’ over and sleepin’ in our bed?” He smiles when he kisses you, his thick Jersey accent always a little heavier in the morning, and you chuckle as you stretch.

“Shut up, you know that ain’t true.” You snuggle back into the mattress, gettin’ a good look at him, something that’s become a rare sight these last couple of days, and you tell him as much, “I’m just surprised to see you here. You’ve been gone the past week whenever I wake up.”

Pale sits on the edge of the bed and rubs at the back of his neck. Work has been kickin’ his fuckin’ ass for comin’ up on ten days straight now, and he had hoped that you weren’t gettin’ pissed at him, thinkin’ he was trying to run out on you or nothin’. In fact, it’s been quite the opposite, he’s been workin’ his ass off to be able to spoil you rotten.

“I know babygirl, I know. But get this, your old man finally gets some time off and I’m spendin’ the whole day makin’ it up to you. I got it all planned out, see.” Pale’s fingers walk up your sternum and pluck at the gold chain that rests against your sleep warm skin, toying with the way it sparkles in the sunlight.

You’re naked, because you always tend to sleep naked when you’re with Pale, save for the jewelry he gives you. You’ve never taken the chain off, not since the day he gave it to you, something that you just know he’s got to be eyein’.

“Why don’t you come closer and tell me all about it?” You pat the empty space next to you, the soft white sheets turned a creamy golden color from the way the sunlight streams in through the curtains.

“Nah nah nah, you gotta come here.” Pale shakes his head, he’s fully fuckin’ dressed after all, only needin’ to put on his shoes before he’s ready to walk out the door.

“No, I don’t want to.” You on the other hand, just woke up, and aren’t in the mood to get up just yet.

“Why not?”

“I’m cozy.”

Pale looks at you with a deadpan scowl, and you only look back at him with a big cheesy grin, and eventually, after a little bit of silent suffering, Pale grumbles as he slides his blazer off his arms, shucks back the covers and climbs back into bed with you.

“Alright but look we can’t stay in bed all day, you hear me? We got shit to do. I got it all planned out. We’ve got breakfast in the city and then the morning in the park, I’m takin’ you shoppin’. It’s been too long since I’ve seen you in somethin’ new. And don’t fuckin’ argue with me about how you don’t need nothin’, I know you don’t, but I don’t need half the shit I got -- I get it because I like it, and I get you shit because I like you, end of discussion.”

One of the things you always loved about your man was how he just went on and on and on, letting you snuggle up against his solid, muscular chest while he does. You rest your head on his pec instead of the pillow, and at once, his arms encircle you and he presses small kisses to the top of your head as he continues,

“Then I figure we built up an appetite so I got us a reservation for lunch in Central, and then you’re gonna put one of the new outfits because we gotta go to Broadway for dinner before a show, and then maybe, if you’re good, I’m gonna fuck your brains out nice and slow, right here in this bed when we come home. Whattaya say sweetheart, sound like a good deal?”

“Hmm, I can’t think of anything better honey, you sure know how to treat a lady.” You chuckle, letting yourself relax against his sturdy frame.

“You’re goddamned right I do.” Pale scoffs, before lightly patting at your cheek and clickin’ his tongue against the roof of his mouth, “So, all that said, you gotta get dressed dollface, breakfast is waiting.”

“Okay, okay, one more kiss?” Your eyes implore him, and who the hell is he to deny you? He leans in and kisses you softly on the mouth, but you shake your head, smiling, “No, that didn’t count.”

“Okay, there.” Pale gives you another one, tilting your face up to meet his better, for his tongue to tease right at the edge of your lower lip.

“No, that one didn’t either.” Whispering, you shake your head again, rolling onto your back and bringing Pale with you.

“How about this one?” Pale asks before gently holding onto your jaw, letting his eyes close as your mouths part in unison, sighing against each other’s lips, letting a full week of nothing but quickies and busy fucking fade away, reveling in the closeness of being together at last.

“No.” You reply, your fingers threading through his hair, not wanting to give him up yet, “One more...”

Like that, you and Pale stay for quite a while, entwined in the feeling of one another. And if Pale decides to strip down and give you a couple orgasms before he takes you out, if that means you miss the breakfast reservation and grab something from the bodega instead, if you wind up covered in hickies for your shopping appointments, well, you certainly don’t give a shit -- just glad to be with your favorite man after some time apart, together at last.

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Tagging some Pale lovin' friends! @sacklerscumrag @artsymaddie @bitchydecisions @direnightshade @reyloaddict55 @sunflowersinthesnow @safarigirlsp @steeevienicks @rosi3ba3z @chapterhappygirl @schopenhauerdeathsquad @bxnnywriting @glassbxttless @angel-bxby3 @2000andwhat @raddo1975 @cornmousequeen @caillea @painttheskylineforme @holding-on-to-starwars @kylo-ren-is-alive @icarusinthesea @princessflip

[a-pretty-nerd]

Tomura Shigaraki x AllMight!Daughter!Reader

Chapter 9

Premis:

When The League of Villains discovers that AllMight has a daughter, they are quick to snatch you up and hold you hostage. Shigaraki had a careful and thought out plan, but that was before you got there. Now you’re in the mood for some not-so-healthy rebellion.

Word count: 2,756

Warnings: Cursing

A/N:

Oh dear lord I'm slow at getting these out. Life's been kickin' my ass lately. But thank you to everyone who's been giving me feedback on my stuff, I really love to hear from you guys!

Taglist: 

(So sorry, I forgot when I originally posted!) 

@craftybean13 @babayaga67 @imjustverable

@bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love

@kamenoyaki @hentaiqween101 @skzero-99 @justanotherlifeff

@witch-o-memes​

Chapter 8 Chapter 10

Two months. You've been "missing" for two months now. The days flew by, your time occupied by quirk training Shigaraki insisted on but never told you why. The times you tried to ask he'd brush it off, or say something like:

"So you don’t throw another fit." His words were harsh but he said them with a flat and bored tone. Like it was a poorly acted line.

So now you had better control. You could move things on command, you knew basic combat, you certainly knew how to kick Dabi's ass by now, that didn't take too long. You were being allowed more and more freedom. Even allowed to leave for a convenience store runs with Toga once or twice. No one policed you, told you what you could and could not do anymore. You could have easily ran away by now. You supposed they really didn't need you either. For their plan to work all they would need was some blood and Toga could easily pass as you.

That idea sent a shiver down your spine. You're sure Shigaraki has thought of that already, so why hadn't he? Why was he training you? Would he use your quirk against the heroes in some way? Was he grooming you to turn and fight your father? You wouldn't. No matter what you wouldn't fight your father. Would you? You shook yourself of this thought as you walked down the ally to the back door of the hide out.

Toga unlocked the door and you stepped in, greeted by a dark and dingy back room. You made your way through the dark halls, following closely behind her as she led you up the stairs that finally led to the parts of the building with power. Soon you found yourself walking to the familiar living space where a few people rested. Dabi laid himself out on one of the couches, Spinner sat fiddling with his burner phone, and Twice had started yelling at the TV before you arrived.

"Luuuunch!" Toga shouted. Toga was often used as the errand girl, she brought back necessary supplies, oftentimes food. Today Toga asked you to tag along and help out, and there wasn't a single objection to the hostage going out on the town. You sat the heavy bags down on the coffee table, taking out the contents as you spoke.

"Where are the others?" You asked.

"Mr. Compress was sent on an errand of his own. And Shigaraki's probably pouting in his room. He'll come out when he's hungry." Dabi groaned as he took his meal from your hand.

"Oh. I'll just bring it to him." You said, absent-minded. All eyes turned to you, looking confused and shocked. "What?" You asked.

"Nothing! It's just-"

"He doesn't like to be disturbed." Toga and Twice spoke. You paused and looked at the box in your hand. It would get cold if he didn't eat soon, and besides, none of you had had much to eat lately, you were sure he was hungry. You knew you were.

"I'll just leave it at the door and knock. It'll get cold and then he'll be in an even worse mood." You told them. They watched you turn and walk up the stairs to his "room". You stood in front of the door, with such thin walls you could hear furious typing on the other side. Loud clicking of a mouse, and the sound of a computer's fan. You took a deep breath and softly knocked on the door. Suddenly the sounds abruptly stopped, followed by a bark.

"What!?"

"Foods here." You called back. You heard footsteps on the other side growing louder and louder until the door flew open. You stared up at the tall man as he looked down on you. His hair hung over his face, his eyes hardly visible. Your heart rate quickened the longer you looked at him. What the hell is wrong with you?

"Give it to me." He held out his hand, his pinky holding out in preparation to receive the box.

"You said you liked spice stuff, right?" You asked as you placed it in his hand.

"Yeah."

"We got you their spicy special. I hope it's not too much. The sign said 'caution' on it." He scoffed at you, turning the box and looking at the writing on it. He fell very quiet. Inspecting the box, you suddenly worried that something was wrong with it. That maybe you'd messed up somehow. But before your anxiety could reach its peak-

"Thank you." His voice was low and soft. You could hardly hear him. Then before you could respond he closed the door and left you alone again. Did he really say that? You never heard him say that to anyone. Granted, you hardly knew him but still, the way he said it, it made you feel... special in some way. You shook yourself from your train of thought and shuffled down the hallway, pausing when you heard movement and the door to Shigaraki's room open. You froze.

"Wait a minute." He barked. You turned too look at him. He hung out of the doorway to stare at you.

"W-What?" You asked. Shigaraki had a way of making people feel like they were in trouble. His ability to easily become an authority figure was something you were beginning to understand now.

"You...went out?" You nodded. He paused and looked away, his eyes shifting as the gears spun in his head. He turned back into his room as he spoke, "come here for a second." He asked. You slowly made your way to his room, the door left wide for you to peak inside. A dark room lit by portable light fixtures and a laptop computer which sat on an old desk. A cot thrown to the corner covered by the same old and tattered blankets the rest of you had.

"Am I... in trouble?" You croaked.

"What? No. Close the door behind you, you'll let in a draft." He ordered, seeming genuinely confused by your question. You closed the door behind you, leaving you completely alone with him in his space. Your heart raced.

You watched him turn and look up at the wall which he had decorated with plans. Pictures of heroes and villains cut out and pinned. Newspaper clippings, printed out articles and research essays. He was planning something, but what it was was difficult to determine. You did notice however, a cut out of an empty figure with your name on it pinned to the center of it all. You stared at it for a second before he broke you from your train of thought.

"Well?"

"Huh!?"

"What do you think?" He asked. His attention turned to his meal, he picked at it, taking a few bites.

"Of what?"

"...the plan." You looked back at the wall, puzzled you tried your best to gain any sort of information from it. Only being able to find bits and pieces. You knew it involved you, your father, and the take down of hero society. A cut out piece of article said something about the rise of villains, that more and more people were turning to villain work. How those rates have a correlation with classes. You slowly turned back to look at him.

"I'm sorry you're gonna have to explain this to me." You told him. He rolled his eyes and stood, directing his attention to his work as he spoke.

"This is the second part of the plan."

"What was the first?"

"Taking you as a hostage."

"Right. But, didn't you say the plan was to expose the heroes after they weren't able to rescue me and not only expose the faulty heroes but also my father as a neglectful and flawed individual not worthy of the hero title?" He paused.

"Yes."

"But that didn't go as planned."

"....."

"Didn't you say something about making a video to broadcast outing myself as All Might's daughter and causing panic? What happened to that plan?"

"It became leverage. If they attempt to come for you, then we'll go with that. But if we do that now, they'll come for you now and we'll be forced to fight."

"Isn't a fight...a good thing? You'd get news coverage and You'd no doubt gain supporters."

"Normally it would. But a fight isn't what we need right now. The heroes have us surrounded. If we make any move at all, we're in their hands. We won't be able to win."

"Not even with your quirk? Couldn't you-"

"Not with everyone here. As strong as I've gotten, I'm not strong enough to keep them from getting swept up and dusted too."

"Right."

"We're in a tight spot. One wrong move and we'll be wiped out."

"What about your supporters? Couldn't you get help from the outside."

"I could, but the heroes would see it coming. They have our signal tapped. Any sort of communication has to be verbal or written."

"Homing pigeon?" You offered. It made him smirk.

"Right now we're like a fox trapped in its own hole by hunters."

"So... we dig?" That made him smile, wide.

"Dig. If we could smuggle ourselves out of the city, we could reach a clear spot where we can call for backup to get us."

"Why not send one person to smuggle themselves out? Toga could easily disguise herself and leave."

"They have a barrier."

"What?"

"Part of the city is closed off until further notice. They know exactly where we are. If one gets out, they won't hesitate to come for all of us. We all have to get out at once and they can't notice until it's too late."

"But how the hell are you gonna do that?" His smile widened. He looked truly excited and happy. For the first time you saw your capture seem truly excited about something.

"We have a few secret recruits in the city. Spies." He turned his attention back to his meal box, reaching in to pull out the inner box that held the food, to reveal a piece of paper sitting underneath in the flimsy take out box. "I didn't know they were letting you out of the base now." He spoke as he opened and read the note within the box.

"I thought, you knew. I thought you were the one that said I could. Dabi said it was fine." He read the note and stood to pin it up on the wall before speaking.

"I've been too busy with this to worry about you. You shouldn't believe everything that Dabi says. I told him to make sure you just don't have another episode and cause a scene before we leave. I thought assigning him babysitting duty would keep him busy." He chuckled. "There's just one thing I don't understand." He turned back to you. "Why didn't you leave?"

"I...I..."

"You had the opportunity, but you're still here. Why?" You froze. Why? Why didn't you run?

"I was scared I'd be killed." You lied. He laughed at you.

"Don't lie to me. You lost that fear a long time ago. You know that's not true. If I wanted you dead I would have killed you a long time ago."

"You've kept me alive to use me as bate. To, to expose the truth." You argued.

"With Toga, we wouldn't need to." You swallowed hard. You knew he had thought about this.

"I'll tell you why I stayed, if you tell me why you've been training me." He scoffed.

"To keep you busy, to keep you from having another episode."

"That doesn't make sense. You could have drugged me, killed me, you said it yourself. But you kept me alive, you kept me busy. You could have kept me on my meds, unable to use it at all but you insisted I learn my quirk. You trained me yourself. Why?" His smile faded and his expression became dark.

"I asked you first." He growled. You looked away from him and thought for a moment before gaining the strength to answer. You knew the truth for a while now. You never wanted to say it out loud. You refused to look at him as you spoke.

"I don't wanna go back. But you probably already knew that by now. You just wanted to hear me say it, huh?" His smirk returned.

"Had a hunch." He snickered.

"Now you answer me."

"Why don't you wanna go back?"

"We had a deal. Answer my question now." You barked at him. It took him a long pause. A full minute of waiting in silence felt like agony.

"I thought it would help you feel better." He muttered in a surprisingly husky tone. "Keep you from asking me to dust you again." That's right, during your episode...

"I'm sorry." You blurted.

"What?"

"I'm sorry I... I asked you to kill me." You hid your face from him. He shifted and crossed his arms across his chest.

"It's not a big deal, I dust people all the time."

"No, I know. But like, I can't imagine being asked to by someone having a fucking break down happens all the time too. I kinda...kinda put you in a shitty position." When you looked up, he looked confused. Comically so. "What?"

"I took you hostage." He reminded you. You couldn't help but chuckle, that made him more confused.

"Shit, yeah, you're right. Guess I shouldn't be so hard on myself huh?" He looked away. "Still. My intentions weren't to upset you."

"You didn't upset me."

"It seems like I upset you." You toyed. His guard was down, he was vulnerable, and allowing you to be there.

"Shut up. You didn't answer my other question!" He shouted in an almost playful tone. You couldn't help but smile, only to have it slowly fade as you thought about your second answer.

"I don't want to go back because..." you stopped, the words getting stuck in your throat. You were unable to speak. He looked down at you, waiting for an answer. He seemed almost relaxed. He seemed normal. Like a normal guy leaning against the wall of his bedroom with his arms folded across his chest. Your eyes wandered up to his scarred neck, bright red scabs forming. Inflamed and fresh. He had recently scratched at it again, clearly in an upset state too. When he blinked you got a clear view of the scarring around his eyes.

"Boss!" A familiar voice shouted from outside the door. "Boss!" Before you could move the door was thrown open, Spinner's wide eyes finding you standing there. He shook his confusion loose before turning back to Shigaraki who quickly changed his position to attention. "Come quick!"

You followed him back to the living space where the old television sat. The news playing loudly as everyone gathered around to watch in panic. Swat teams and heroes decorated the screen as shot after shot showed them surrounding your building. Fear ran from your toes to your head, making you feel nauseous and dizzy. Shit. Shit. Shit. They're here for you. But you...you weren't ready to leave. And what about-

"Not again! - We can take 'em'!" Twice shouted at it like a sport was playing.

"Tomura, what are we going to do!?" Toga asked, frantically bobbing up and down in panic. He watched the TV intently listening in.

"After receiving a tip from an anonymous source, police and heroes found missing tourist Y/L/N Y/N being held captive by The League of Villains in this abandoned office building. Officials are working now to safely rescue the hostage."

Suddenly a loud voice was heard both on TV and through the halls of the building.

"League of Villains. We have you surrounded. Please let Y/L/N go and no one will be hurt." A cop shouted through a megaphone.

"C'mon Shigaraki, what's the plan?" Dabi asked, clearly starting to get uncomfortable. Before Shigaraki could respond, you spoke.

"Well, looks like this is it for me." You began walking away, only to be stopped by a strong, four-fingered grip pulling you back.

"Where do you think you're going!?" He growled.

"The jig is up, Shigaraki! Let me go! I'm not useful anymore. All they want is me, if I'm out of your hair you'll be able to escape easier." His grip tightened, pulling you closer as his red eyes bore into yours.

"So long as you're here they won't dare make a move. You're still my most valuable player. You're staying right here."

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Never a Gull Moment

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes Rating: T Word Count: 3523

For @yavannie, who wanted Sam to either gain new powers or carry Bucky through the air. Spoiler, I went with both. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: Sam’s had an intense first week as Captain America. The perfect opportunity for a break arises when Joaquín contacts him, offering new programming for his suit. All he needs to test the tech are the beach, birds, and one uncooperative bonehead Sam didn’t manage to leave behind in New York.

If there’s one skill Sam’s hoping to adopt from his predecessor—Steve, not Walker (sweet Jesus, not Walker)—it’s the ability to end a conversation with a humble handwave before it can even begin. Steve always had that in the bag. Leading with the wrist in a flick of the hand that came across as both sheepish and respectful. Like he’d love to stop and talk with that fan or this journalist but he was just too busy. And not rude busy, busy with a quiet nobility. Anyway, it all came across in the wave.

Sam hasn’t nailed the wave.

Four days after the GRC vote-that-wasn’t, he’s still in New York, bouncing between TV appearances; everybody wants a piece of the new Cap. Sam wishes they asked a little more about his opinions on compassion for the displaced, as well as those who survived the Snap to form new, functional communities, and less about the look of his new suit, but isn’t it always a battle between style and substance? At least people are listening. To everything except the look Sam knows he has in his eyes, the one that says this debut has been a lot and he’s longing for home.

He knows he has to nail this aspect of being Captain America too. Unfortunately, chuckling amiably with morning show hosts isn’t doing a hell of a lot to distract him from what it took to get him here. There are seconds where his attention wavers—he’ll be nodding along to whatever someone’s saying, or letting his gaze follow a bike courier down the street instead of staying trained on the camera the roving reporter has set up on the sidewalk—and that’s when Karli hurtles into his mind. He feels her desperate blows vibrating the shield, the weight of her body in his arms, in her death.

He can’t keep sitting behind desks or posing impressively and trying to answer the hard questions (on the rare occasion they’re asked) after he’s told people he’s not the expert. When Torres calls up, it’s the close-enough-to-official reason Sam’s been waiting for to step back and do something that actually feels useful.

Bucky, who’s been skulking behind the scenes, somehow never pulled into interviews (if he knows the deferring wave and he’s been doing it just outside Sam’s sightline all week, Sam’s gonna kill him), sticks with him. They head south to meet Torres, and at least that feels like the right direction. Homeward bound. Of course, they stop a handful of states before Louisiana and hug the east coast, but it’s an improvement. They meet Torres at… the beach.

He’s got his foot propped in the open doorframe of a Humvee, giving Sam and Bucky a big, eager, whole-arm wave as they pull up. Not like they’re gonna miss him; Torres is in the only vehicle parked halfway down an unpaved road. Sand dunes climb steep and high just feet from his front bumper, an informal path cutting between the dunes and leading to the water, though Sam can’t see that from this vantage.

Torres’s hand is somehow already grasping Sam’s in a pumping, congratulatory shake before he’s fully out of the car. Sam hears Bucky’s soft snort of suppressed laughter and shoots him a look across the seats. Bucky raises his palms, but Sam spots his smirk before they’re both slamming their doors and stretching their legs after the drive.

“Traffic?” Torres asks brightly.

“Nah,” Bucky answers, coming around the back of their ride. “Sam just drives slower than my grandmother and she—”

“Died on the Titanic?” Sam guesses dryly.

Bucky’s flat stare could be saying a lot of things, or nothing. Sam feels as if he’s been a student of the language of Bucky’s stare for a while now, but his comprehension is still rudimentary. Pop that asshole in a sanctuary for rehabilitated brain-washees, have somebody study his behaviour like Jane Goodall studies chimpanzees, and they might get some answers. The idea starts as something funny Sam almost shares, but then he imagines handfeeding Bucky a banana and it gets weird. He keeps his mouth shut.

“Or she got the cryo treatment too and she’s kickin’ around someplace, speakin’ Russian and makin’ headshots.”

“Come on, man, Hydra jokes about your own grandmother?” Sam scoffs. “That’s not even a little bit funny.”

Torres’s expression is like a kid watching a wrestling match on TV—awed, alarmed, reluctant to question what’s real because he’s just enjoying the show.

Bucky cracks a slow smile and Sam rolls his eyes, slapping Torres’s shoulder to get him to head towards the Humvee and the reason they’re here.

“Nana woulda thought it was funny,” Bucky assures them.

“Nana?”

“Lemme guess… You called your aunt ‘TT,’ so your grandmother’s probably… ‘GG,’ am I right?”

Sam glares at him (because his guess is correct and he’s a pain in the ass) and turns fully to Torres as he opens the back, revealing a large case.

“You were vague on the phone,” Sam recalls, watching Torres tug the case close before undoing the clasps. Bucky leans against the vehicle as he observes, dark pants picking up a swipe of road dust from the dirty taillight. “Something about an update for the suit?”

“Right,” Torres agrees.

He throws the case open to reveal the wings Sam gifted him. They’ve been repaired and Sam automatically strokes a hand over the gleaming, extended metal. If Torres did this himself, he sure worked fast.

“That duffle bag wasn’t good enough for you?” Sam asks jokingly, remembering his gear broken and jumbled, fit to be dragged out with the trash.

“They’re kind my prized possession,” Torres admits. “I thought they deserved to be kept nice.”

“You might even wanna put ’em on sometime.”

“I’m working up to that.” Torres laughs. “I wanted to make sure they were in working order before I jumped off a building.”

“Or out of the back of a plane without a parachute, right, Buck?” Sam asks, smacking the back of his hand into Bucky’s chest.

“I was fine,” Bucky insists.

“Sure you were. We can watch the footage again. I’m up for that.”

“Just let the man finish.”

Torres grants Bucky a wide smile in thanks.

“Yeah,” he picks up, “so I was fixing them, working on the wiring, and when I got the electronics running smoothly again, I started thinking about Redwing—”

“May he rest in pieces,” Bucky contributes.

“Uncalled for,” Sam complains.

“I replaced it, didn’t I?”

“The Wakandans replaced it.”

“As a favour to me.”

Torres’s gaze dances between them until Sam motions for him to continue.

“About Redwing,” Torres goes on enthusiastically. “The sophistication of the relationship between you, how intuitive the tech was. How Redwing understood not just simply-stated commands, but a more conversational approach, interpreting your intentions.”

“Finally, a little Redwing appreciation,” Sam says. He crosses his arms and gives Bucky a meaningful look.

“But what if it was a real bird?” Torres blurts.

Most of a minute passes as Sam stares at Torres’s excited expression.

“I think I might get where Torres is going with this,” Bucky says.

Sam holds up a hand to pause him. He could make a guess at it too, but there’s no need for that. They have the source of whatever alterations have been made right here.

“In your own words, Joaquín,” Sam encourages.

“Well,” he begins, one palm braced in the bed of the Humvee as he leans over the case with unconscious protectiveness, “you know I’ve kinda been itching to get my hands on the wings for a long time.”

“Yeah.” Sam laughs, remembering having to practically slap Torres’s hands away from the jetpack in Tunisia.

“Since you gave them to me a couple weeks ago, I’ve been tinkering, like I said, and I had this idea. Now,” he warns, raising both hands in caution, “this might be either really obvious or really disrespectful to the whole concept of the Falcon, but I started wondering if it’d be possible for the person wearing the wings to talk to nearby birds. Use them like a resource, like with Redwing.”

“Black Panther dresses like a cat with Vibranium claws.”

“Spider-Man has webs,” Bucky adds.

“Right,” Sam agrees, nodding to him before looking back to Torres. “I don’t think it’s disrespectful to lean into the gimmick if it’s amplifying your abilities.”

“Awesome,” Torres pronounces.

“I assume you went further than just wondering about it?”

Torres gives them a modest shrug.

“I know a guy who knows an ornithologist.”

“Bird scientist,” Bucky translates.

Turning his head, Sam glances at Bucky with a no shit look.

“Thanks,” he says insincerely.

“You’re welcome.”

“Long story short,” Torres pipes up, “she got me access to a catalogue of bird calls and the scientific consensus on what they all mean. I patched that info into the suit and, hopefully, it’s something that could be used, uh, on the fly. Sorry, I was trying to think of another way to say that.”

“So my suit would be able to communicate with birds?” Sam checks. “Automatically?”

“Yeah, it would assess your surroundings the same way Redwing does already, but scanning for birds, identifying what kind they are, and having the interpretation of their calls at the ready if needed.”

“What sort of information would I be gaining with this tech?”

“Stuff like… are they feeling threatened or disturbed? Does something feel off about their environment that has something to do with somebody you’re maybe chasing?”

“Mating rituals,” Bucky says.

“How is being able to recognize mating rituals going to help me?” Sam demands.

“You never know.”

“You brought your suit, right?” Torres wants to know. Apparently, he’s not going to bother engaging with Bucky’s nonsense. “It won’t take long for me to install the new software.”

“It’s in the back,” Sam assures him, jerking a thumb towards the other vehicle.

“Great!”

“But just the bird calls. This suit is brand new. No tinkering.”

“No tinkering,” Torres swears.

He sets up his impromptu workshop in the back seat, next to the suit. Sam has to admit to himself that Torres’s reverential expression as he handles the Captain America suit is pretty flattering. He watches the progress until Torres sits back, stating it’ll just be a few minutes for the new programming to be assimilated.

“Why the beach?” Sam asks while they wait.

“I was inspired by some shaky, far-away footage of you in New York. You did, uh, kind of a nosedive into the river there, so I thought maybe you’d be interested in testing your suit’s maneuverability in water at the same time as we did a trial with the bird calls.”

“Are we running a drill or something?” Bucky wonders.

“That’s a good idea,” Torres says immediately. “A scenario to use both the calls and the water.”

“You got something in mind?”

Sam isn’t the one who asks because he can see from Torres’s face that he does. Fortunately, he is the one who gets to laugh when the Lieutenant squints consideringly at Bucky and asks, “How long can you hold your breath?”

—

The last Sam sees of Bucky, he’s taking off his shirt.

“Oh, entire jacket this time?” Torres asked when Bucky took that off first.

After that, it was his shoes and socks, then his t-shirt, and this whole Bucky stripping thing isn’t so much a last look as something that Sam has to stand there witnessing for a while. He’s already in the Cap suit and, seriously, Bucky could’ve changed at the same time. Then, he would’ve been ready to go without making Sam and Torres wait around. But Sam wouldn’t have gotten to see him undress.

“Hurry it up, man.” His voice is a little off because, at the same time, he’s thinking, Please don’t take your pants off.

“If you’re making me play a drowning victim, I can at least not be getting weighed down,” Bucky argues. “This is to help you, right? Quit complaining.”

Finally, he stalks away, mounting the dune in black jeans and a half-assed scowl and disappearing over the top. The plan is for him to swim out, then duck under the water when Torres tells him to (the guy’s brought along waterproof earpieces for the purpose). Next, Sam will fly up and search for the ‘victim,’ relying solely on input from the seagulls wheeling lazily overhead. It’s a good exercise Torres has cooked up.

Sam hands the shield off to Torres for safekeeping before the Lieutenant heads to the beach. The shield won’t be necessary for this and there’s no way in hell Sam’s leaving it in the car. Besides, it’s kinda funny how wide Torres’s eyes go when Sam offers it up. Even bigger reaction than leaving him the wings, though this he doesn’t get to keep.

“On my signal,” Torres restates.

Sam gives him a sharp nod.

Once he’s alone, he paces between the vehicles, eager to kick off the ground. He hasn’t had an opportunity to just enjoy himself in the new suit yet. Leading up to the confrontation with the Flag-Smashers (and Georges Batroc, that fists-of-steel bastard), he was in training mode, focused and determined. In the media-heavy days that followed, he conceded to a few stunts for the camera. Those hadn’t been purely fun though; they were actually something Sam had to think quick and hard about, ultimately deciding that it wasn’t just performing on command but rather giving the public a lighthearted look at their new Captain America. Testing new tech with Bucky, Torres, and a bunch of seagulls? That seems like it’ll actually be a good time.

The instant Torres’s voice in Sam’s ear says, “Bucky’s under,” he unfurls the wings and sails up over the crest of the dune.

It’s not the warmest day and the greenish-blue water’s choppy near the shore, but there is a surprising smattering of people along a quarter mile of beach. Must be locals, Sam guesses, trekking down to the water from nearby houses. That would explain the lack of other cars where he parked. The people aren’t that close or that bothered by his sudden appearance overhead. Startled, sure, but after they’ve identified him (he sees a few hands lifted to foreheads to block out the sun so they can get a good look), he gets to return a couple big waves. Besides that, nobody’s getting to their feet to pound sand and swarm Torres, who’s conspicuously there with Sam—he is holding the shield, after all. Pretty typical. The bigger the crowd, the greater the chance of people scrambling for his attention and/or whipping out their phones to film him. This group seems satisfied with watching Captain America hanging out at their beach on his downtime and Sam appreciates them for that.

“No scanning the water,” Torres says in his ear. Sam laughs.

“I’m not, just assessing our audience here.”

“Is this a bad spot? I didn’t think anybody’d be around when I sent you my location, but—”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry. Did anybody ask you what was up when Bucky waded out into the water?”

“Nah. If they were wondering, they probably aren’t anymore.”

“Glad I won’t have to compete with a lifeguard to rescue him,” Sam jokes.

He hears Torres’s short laugh of agreement before focusing. Not on the water at all, but the birds. Those down on the sand are squawking for food, comfortable enough with these people to complain loudly in the hopes of being fed.

Sam’s sudden swoops scatter the gulls in the air, so he tries easier circles, mimicking their movements to hover high above the beach. Soon enough—these guys either have bad short-term memories or no patience—they start communicating with each other. The new programming Torres has uploaded to his suit signals to Sam that the birds are aware of a disturbance in the water. He gets a target on his goggles’ imaging and dives.

Sucking in a deep breath, Sam crashes into the murky water no more than a hundred yards out. The drop-off is dramatic enough for him to not complete a faceplant into a shallow bottom. Bucky’s treading water a couple body-lengths down, but he wrecks his form to offer Sam a raised middle finger in greeting. Sam’s wings retract as he grabs Bucky’s wrist to haul him to the surface.

They breathe, bobbing in place.

“Thought you’d be faster,” Bucky says.

“You didn’t drown, did you?” Sam points out. “Come on.”

He catches hold of Bucky’s hand and shoots out of the water, wings opening in the air to carry him once the thruster’s done its work. But Bucky squirms below him, their wet grip twisting precariously. Water runs from his sopping jeans.

“What the hell are you doing?” Sam asks.

“I don’t want to be carried to shore!”

“Why?”

“Because dangling this high above the ground feels a little weird to me! Not all of us do this every day!”

“I guess we could run the exercise again.”

“Fine. Let’s do that. Just drop me.”

Sam rewards Bucky’s melodrama by abruptly releasing his grip. Hey, that’s what the idiot asked for, and if he can fall out of a plane to the forest floor, he can plunge into water. It’s not like Sam’s up at aircraft cruising altitude, just high enough to make Torres look like a little action figure army man, standing on the sand in his fatigues.

“Running it again?” Torres wants to know.

“Yep,” Sam tells him, accelerating away from the shore. “Just giving that dumbass time to swim to a new spot.”

“Even though he can’t reply while he’s underwater… you know he can hear you in the comms, right?”

“Oh yeah.”

When Torres lets him know that Bucky’s gone under a second time, they start the drill again. Once more, Sam does a gliding approach to the seagulls. Once more, they go quiet before filling the air with their screaming, overlapping calls. Once more, Sam finds Bucky. He knows he’s quicker this time, so he’s expecting an acknowledgement of that when he contracts the wings, straightens his body, and plummets into the water feetfirst next to where Bucky’s floating below the surface.

Instead of an appreciative nod, an outstretched hand, or even a thumbs up, Bucky darts away from him. Is he trying not to get rescued? Now he’s just fucking up the exercise. Only, Sam can’t even berate him, because he’s still under too, holding his breath as he swims after Bucky. He uses the jetpack for assistance, but Bucky’s a fast swimmer, legs kicking just ahead of Sam. Goddamn human shark.

Because he is not an idiot, Sam surfaces to catch his breath, leaving Bucky somewhere below.

“There a problem?” Torres asks.

“Only with Bucky’s idea of teamwork.”

“Get him like a bird would!”

“Is that a real suggestion?” Sam asks, rising and falling as a small wave swells under him, rolling towards the shore.

“Really, Sam! You know, like how birds hunt fish.” Back on the beach, he makes a sharp, downward gesture with his arm that has Sam chuckling. He gets what Torres means though.

“Alright.”

Sam goes from water to air, then, alerted by a trio of seagulls taking annoyed flight from the surface of the water, goes into a steep dive. Nabbing the swimmer from above is the trick, he learns, when the swimmer is being intentionally uncooperative with the rescue attempt. Bucky might be quick when he knows Sam’s behind him, but when he drops down on him, there’s nowhere Bucky can go. Sam wraps his arms around Bucky’s bare chest from behind and lugs him up for air.

The first thing Bucky says is, “You took even longer that time.”

Frustrated, Sam splashes the back of his head, but when Bucky strokes his arms out, rotating to face him, he’s smiling.

“You messed it up,” Sam accuses. He rubs a hand across his goggles to smear the water droplets off.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t have fun.”

Sam narrows his eyes before a laugh bursts out of him. He can’t help it; it’s the pressure he’s been under, so much internal conflict, suddenly drawn out with the current. Yeah, Bucky was slightly uncooperative, but that’s nothing unusual. Swimming ahead like he was going for a gold medal or forcing Sam to plunge deep after him, the two of them suspended like the goddamn Shape of Water before Sam towed him to the surface—either way, Bucky definitely gave him distinct scenarios to work with. Sam can’t say he doesn’t feel more comfortable now that he’s had some practice. More comfortable with his wings in the water, with working with his feathered allies. With Bucky.

“Still don’t want a lift?” Sam checks.

Bucky’s expression hardens and Sam backs off with a laugh.

“See you on the shore,” Bucky states firmly.

“Alright. Get doggy-paddlin’, White Wolf.”

Sam feels Bucky’s hand shoot out to seize his ankle in retaliation as he launches out of the water, but he’s too slow. Sam’s wings fan wide as he flies up, up, up with the birds.

[estrelio]

The Christmas Compromise

merry christmas, @lilliankayl !! ‘tis i, your secret santa! this ended up getting a little long, so there will be multiple parts up...soon. here’s the first one, which you will also eventually be able read on ao3 when it’s complete. hope you enjoy!!

Part One.

Dean feels his mouth start to form a lazy smile.

Through the winter chill and the foggy annoyance that his blankets are skewed around him to provide the least amount of heat and warmth, there is a distant recognition that the smell of coffee in the air isn’t just any brew.

Despite the effort to untangle the sheets from his legs and feet, Dean manages to bare his skin to the winter cold of his room, provided the damage to his heater. He makes a mental note to fix that later, after they come back. Dean can last a few days until then.

He can practically see his breath hanging in the air when he yawns, pulling on warmer clothes as quickly as his stiff muscles and numb fingertips will allow him. Sweats, then t-shirt, then hoodie, because he isn’t expected to be anywhere until later and he can always change before that if he needs to.

Better to die comfy than in plaid.

It’s early morning, judging by the darkness outside and Dean’s alarm clock that blinks 5:30 AM at him in white block numbers, but he can’t find it in himself to care that he’s awake to see hell freeze over. Lucky for him, there’s a quick fix to his sleepiness less than twenty feet away.

The socks take entirely too long to fit onto his feet. When they finally do, Dean yanks his door open and pads down the hall, stopping at the entrance to his kitchen.

It’s a modest kitchen—a modest home, really, but it does it’s job—and it’s empty save for an occupied chair at the kitchen table.

Dean stares for a second.

He’s allowed to notice clothes and posture before that second is disrupted by Miracle making a racket coming into the kitchen, and Cas turns to face them.

“Morning,” Dean greets him. The smell of coffee is much stronger here, and Dean can feel his mouth beginning to water.

Cas pushes a full mug towards Dean’s seat.

“Good morning, Dean. I made you—”

“My favorite brew,” Dean finishes for him. He sits, letting his fingers thaw under the ceramic of the mug and breathing in the heavy scent of Cas’ coffee.

“It’s everyone’s favorite brew,” Cas says, taking a sip from his own cup. “That’s why it’s the priciest.”

Dean levels a look at him.

“I have to make money somehow,” Cas defends.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean waves him off, bringing the drink to his lips. The first taste is hot—too hot—and it burns his throat on the way down.

“You never learn,” Cas says. Dean doesn’t need to meet his eyes to know that they’re squinting at him. “You’ve been burning your tongue on my coffee for years, you’d think it’d make an impact by now.”

Dean only frowns and mumbles into his coffee something about “not every time,” to which Cas rolls his eyes.

They can only pretend to be angry with each other for a few more minutes before it subsides into companionable silence. Dean lightly kicks Cas’ foot under the table to get his attention.

“You gonna need a ride to work?”

Cas sets his mug down and shrugs. He’s still in his night clothes: a white t-shirt—Dean has never understood how Cas can stand the cold—and borrowed sweats, but he’ll probably burrow through more of Dean’s wardrobe to get his outfit for today. The guy might as well live here with the amount of time he spends at Dean’s place and the fact that Dean’s closet is practically Cas’, too, now.

I could always just ask him…

Dean swallows the last of his drink and stands before he can contemplate the question again. He busies himself at the sink, and then ducks under the counter to get Miracle’s food from the cabinet.

“Yes,” Cas says eventually, evidently having gone through every other option before arriving at that one. “Is it a bother?”

Dean pokes his head over the counter to look at him.

“No, man, you know I like driving Baby around. Besides, I’ve got some shopping to do, and, y’know…”

“Free breakfast,” Cas adds for him, a teasing note in his voice. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed the muffins that go missing every time you drop by.”

Dean sets down Miracle’s food and whistles softly, standing straight once Miracle trots into the room and to his bowl to eat.

“Hey,” he points a finger at Cas, “Consider it a compromise since you never pay for gas.”

“It’s not like I haven’t offered,” Cas meets Dean by the sink to wash his cup out. “Do you want me to pay for gas, Dean?”

He’s standing close in that way that Cas always stands close—in the way that Dean has stopped correcting for years now. That’s just how he is, he reminds himself, and puts visible effort into keeping his eyes trained on Cas’ blue ones.

“No,” he says, “You don’t need to pay for gas. All I’m asking is that you look the other way when I happen to find a cookie just laying there for the taking. Do that, and it’s free rides for life.”

“When you say ‘laying there,’ I assume you mean in the casing, behind the counter, where only employees are allowed,” Cas sasses back, face stripped of emotion except for the slight furrow to his brow. Imperceptible, if it wasn’t Dean that was staring.

“So now I’m an employee?” Dean asks, finally pulling away from their bubble to pretend to clean the counter. “Jee, Cas, you shoulda told me. I would have put my apron on.”

Cas punches him lightly on the shoulder, done with washing his cup but fingers still wet from doing so. It leaves an imprint on Dean’s hoodie, which Dean acts like he hates, but it gives him a motive to attack Cas back.

They scuffle, elbowing each other and pushing each other around the kitchen—Dean even manages to try for a few tickles to Cas’ armpits and stomach, but still to no avail—until Miracle joins in and they stop so as to not accidentally step on a paw.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Cas says, once they’re done with the rough housing. Patting Dean’s back once, he leaves the kitchen and enters Dean’s room down the hall.

Warmer, now, with the extra movement in him, Dean leans against the counter to catch his breath. At least that’s what he tells himself, watching Cas mill around from door to door until he hears the bathroom shut and the shower start.

When Dean is sure that Cas is out of hearing range, he pulls out his phone.

“Bitch,” Dean starts, pressing the cold surface to his ear and cheek.

“Jerk.”

He smiles. “How’s it goin’?”

“Same old, same old. Got a case about to close up here real soon, so. Expect to see me at the Bunker in a few days.”

“You’ll be there,” Dean confirms. “Glad to hear it.”

“And you? Everything good?”

Dean shifts at the accusatory tone in Sam’s voice.

“Yeah, man. All good. Shop’s runnin’ just fine. Bobby says hi.”

A huff of laughter. “He still kickin’ your ass?”

Dean nods, even though Sam can’t see him. “Bobby’s Bobby. You know how he is, never a moment’s rest. Come to think of it, I actually had to remind him that it’s Christmas this week. The guy was asking if I’d be in on Friday. Had to tell him he wouldn’t be in on Friday, crazy bastard.” He hears Sam chuckle. “Oh hey, by the way, I think Rufus is coming with this year.”

“Really? Haven’t seen him since—”

“Yeah, I know. Well, he’ll be there—you can recount the tall tales of Rufus and Sammy to everyone as a Christmas present.”

There’s a pause, and Dean checks to see if the call had cut off before returning his phone to his ear.

“—coming?”

“Sorry, what?”

“Is Cas coming?”

Dean hears the shower shut off. The guy makes quick work.

“I was assuming,” he says.

“Well, you should ask.”

“Why?” Dean scoffs, “It’s pretty much a given, dude, he always comes.”

He can practically feel Sam’s eye roll over the phone.

“What?”

“I dunno, Dean, c’mon. You can’t just expect him to come whenever you call. He’s got his own family, you know, and—”

Dean grimaces, folding an arm over his chest. “No, he doesn’t. We’re his family. Those dickheads are—” He sighs, tries to contain the outburst before it can be unleashed. In…out.

“Trust me, Sam, he doesn’t want to see them. He’ll be at ours on Friday.”

“Dean—”

“Nice talkin’ to you, Sammy. I’ve gotta go, taking Cas to work.”

“Wait, he’s there?! Hang on a second—”

“Bye!”

He cuts the call before he can hear another word out of Sam, and just in time to see Cas in the bathroom doorway. He’s looking at Dean with his head tilted curiously, and Dean’s breath immediately catches in his chest.

“Was that Sam?” he asks. As if his hair isn’t all wet and towel-rustled, as if he isn’t dressed in Dean’s clothes.

“Yeah,” Dean croaks. He clears his throat. “Yeah, yes. He says hi.”

“I’m sorry I missed him,” Cas frowns, making his way over to Dean. Dean stills.

“It’s six,” Cas continues, “I should be at work by seven, if you can manage it.”

When Dean just stares back, Cas adds, “You should get dressed.”

“What’s wrong with this?”

“You’ve been wearing that hoodie for three days straight and you’re beginning to smell like Miracle,” he deadpans. “Go shower, I can wait.”

Dean pushes himself off the counter and brushes past him. “Thanks, Cas. How considerate.”

-

When Dean parks Baby in front of Heaven and Hell Cafe, he does so in his grey henley and several layers of long-sleeves, with jeans that do nothing to combat the cold.

Shivering, he follows Cas inside, and warmth envelops them upon entry, along with the jingle of the door bell.

“Cas!” comes a familiar voice. Dean hears more than sees a set of doors opening, and Jack is suddenly in front of them wearing a huge smile.

“Oh, Dean! Good to see you,” Jack lifts a hand in greeting, but it looks more like he wants a hug. Dean smiles back at him and waves.

“Hey, kiddo. Everything alright?”

Jack nods. “Yes. Although, I…I do need to see Cas for a second.”

“Oh, um. Of course.” Cas glances at Dean with a look that says ‘I’ll be right back,’ and follows Jack through the double doors that lead to the kitchen.

Dean trails after them half-way, stopping behind the counter to sleuth after some morning treats. He decides on what he thinks is a cinnamon roll, pulling it out of the casing and shutting the door as quickly as he’d opened it.

He stuffs the pastry in his hoodie’s pocket for later, and thanks the universe that it’s wrapped and won’t get covered in fuzz this time (he’d learned the hard way).

“—makes sense. Just let me know if anything changes.”

Cas appears through the doors looking slightly stressed. Dean fights to urge to get up and soothe, to run his hands across Cas’ shoulders and ease the tension there.

“You good?” Dean checks instead. Cas nods.

“Fine. Just…It’s fine. Didn’t you say you had shopping to do?”

“Are you kickin’ me out?” he jokes.

“No, but the shop opens in thirty minutes. Feel free to stick around if you’d like.” Cas’ eyes drop to Dean’s crotch area, and he quickly looks down to see what Cas is looking at.

“You can eat that here. No point in hiding it since the gig is up.” Dean lets out a breath. Cas had been staring at the lump in Dean’s hoodie pocket, where Dean was keeping his breakfast. What happened to ‘looking the other way?’

“Thanks, but you’re right, I should probably get going. I’ve gotta do errands and be at the shop later to work for a few hours. You coming over tonight?”

Cas pauses in the middle of putting his apron on, contemplating the question.

“No,” he says slowly. “Not tonight.”

Dean tries not to frown. Suddenly the weight of his phone in his pocket is ten times heavier than it was a few seconds ago. ‘Well, you should ask,’ the little voice inside his head that sounds like Sam, says. He sighs softly.

“How about, um. You’re—you’ll be there on Friday, right? Do you need a ride? I was planning on leaving on Thursday, if you wanted to come with. I know Claire’s heading out earlier. Jody, and all them, too…so.” Dean forces himself to meet Cas’ eyes. Something in his chest feels tight when he notices Cas’ expression has only gotten worse.

“I,” Cas starts, gaze falling to his shoes. “I don’t know, Dean.”

That thing in Dean’s chest solidifies and sinks to his stomach, settling there uncomfortably. 

“Don’t know what?”

Cas starts rummaging through the bakery cases, adjusting things that don’t need to be adjusted, meticulously cleaning crumbs from platters and making sure the little banners with the pastry names on them are all straight and perfect. 

“If I’ll be able to go,” he says finally, not looking up. “It’s the holidays and I’m busy here this season, people have been ordering pastries for Christmas, and I don’t know if I plan to close on Christmas day, because my regulars might want to come in still, and—“

“Cas,” Dean stops him, leaning over the counter. Cas notices and lightly tries to push him off so he can start on the counters, but Dean grabs his wrist to get his attention. 

“You’re going to work yourself to death, man. It’s the holidays. Your regulars will understand if you don’t show up on Christmas, okay? And you’ve never had this issue any other year, so...” Dean makes Cas look at him. “What’s really bothering you?”

to be continued...

-

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[theangelofangst]

Fav Ozpin moment?

You dare ask me to pick one????

I... I can’t, literally every time the man is on screen or talking is my favorite.

1. His introduction in Volume 1 and his conversation with Ruby is iconic as hell and I love it

2. The conversation Ozpin has with Pyrrha is like so good. Like the look he gave Pyrrha after she says she’ll be the Fall Maiden. He’s so sad and surprised at how quickly she said it, is like “oh she is like me.”

3. His entire fight scene with Cinder in Volume 3, it may have been short but it was AMAZING!

4. His conversation with Oscar back in Volume 4, when he’s trying to convince Oscar to go to Haven, like ooooooh, I love it so much.

5. When he’s trying to get Oscar to let him take control in Volume 5 with the fight with Hazel. His desperate and concerned “Oscar!” Gets me every time 🥺

6. His entire fight with Hazel is badass as hell! Like look at my boi go, kickin ass!

7. His entire backstory being revealed. As much as team RWBY yelling at him pissed me off, I really like we got to see a more vulnerable side to Ozpin. Like when he started crying my heart almost died and I wanted to reach through the screen and protect him.

8. When Oz finally comes back after being gone for two volumes simply because Oscar was about to die and he went into concerned dad mode and gave Oscar the strength to save himself. I was like “YES SAVE YOUR BOI OZ!”

9. Oz’s conversations with Oscar during episode 2 and when he and Oscar are held captive by Salem of Volume 8. Like when he and Oscar are talking fairytales to each other and Oz telling Oscar that he thinks Oscar is doing just fine on his own??? I cry! Your honor he cares about him! 🥺

10. When he says “Thank you, Oscar.” After Oscar stands up and stands by him against Jaune, Yang and Ren. Like “YES OSCAR! DEFEND HIM!” Like I nearly combusted from happiness.

11. His conversation with Team RWBY and Team JRN, Penny. Not necessarily him apologizing, because I don’t think he really did anything wrong, but him just being on screen and being all nervous with him tapping his fingers and being all adorable

He’s just my boi and he deserves all the love with all the pain and suffering he’s been through. He’s flawed and made a lot of mistakes and that makes him that much more compelling and I will die on that hill.