#frame 1 is like...i remember seeing it and thinking “hey there's my seat”

[vagueeyes]

INSIDE NO. 9 | "The Party's Over" Wyndham's Theatre

[hellodarling1357]

More Than A Moment: Part 1 - Cassian x Reader (AU!)

What? A post? A whole new fic? After months of broken promises (rip me)?

I sporadically got the inspo to write today and this idea just flowed on out and all but wrote itself!

Is this a stand alone? A multi-part (I hope so)?

Who knows!

Either way, I hope you enjoy 🥰

Summary: After a drunken night between friends, just friends, nothing more, Y/N and Cassian’s lives end up changing forever. But maybe not in the way they had originally expected.

Word Count: 1.5k

“Cassian!” You shout through the door, one fist pounding on the wooden frame as the other, hidden away in your coat pocket, held tightly to what had felt like a lifeline since you had raced to the store just over an hour ago.

“Cassian! I swear to god if you don’t open the door right now…” You took a step back as your fist met the air, the words dying in your throat as a girl with sleep mussed hair, wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt that you knew belonged to Cassian, stared back at you with a look of distaste.

“What?” The girl asked, stifling a yawn as her eyes blatantly looked you up and down, a smirk spreading across her lips as she took in your frazzled appearance. “We’re a little busy here, so…”

You blinked at her before pushing past and making your way inside the small apartment, ignoring the girl’s protest as you beelined for Cassian’s room, stopping momentarily as the door opened before you could reach it.

“Y/N. Hey,” the man in question was straightening out a tight black t-shirt, having clearly put on the closest items of clothing he could reach. “I didn’t expect to see you today, especially not at 8 am on a Sunday morning…”

“We need to talk.”

“Okay, alright. Could this not have waited until a more reasonable time?”

“Cass, please…”

Clearly picking up on the slight plea in your voice, he nodded, a slight furrow to his brow as he studied you a moment longer before turning to the girl who remained bristling by the front door.

“Hey,” he started, beckoning the girl towards him, you cringed as you took a seat on the couch, not wanting to be a part of the scene that was about to unfold. “So last night was fun, yeah? But I think there’s a few things I need to deal with here so we should probably wrap this up for now?”

“Oh? So you want me to leave?” You rolled your eyes as she clung to him, battering her lashes in hopes of changing his mind as he led her back into his room to help her collect her things, not missing the daggers she sent your way when Cassian’s back was turned.

“It’s not that I want you to leave… But I’ll call you. Soon, alright?”

“You better.”

Barely managing to conceal your scoff you busied yourself with your phone as she pulled him down into a lingering kiss.

“Alright, well get home safe and thanks again for last night…” Cassian trailed off and your attention flickered over in disbelief as he clearly tried to scramble for the poor girl’s name.

“Rebecca. My name’s Rebecca.” Her icy tone was a stark contrast as she moved out of his grasp.

“Of course, I know your name. How could I forget? I was just deciding whether I wanted to start calling you babe or baby.”

You didn’t attempt to hide the disgust at your friend as he shot the girl a charming smile that had her swooning as she said her goodbyes - all iciness melting into a flirtatiously shy smile as she stared up at him from under heavy lashes.

“You really can be a pig sometimes, you do realise that?” You said without looking up from your phone once Cassian had shut the door behind the girl.

“What?” He asked, voice laced in indignation as he slumped onto the couch beside you.

“Oh I dunno, do I call you babe or baby? Of course I remember your name, random-girl-I’ll-never-actually-call.” You lowered your voice into a mockery of his own before being met with a pillow to your face as Cassian got up and headed towards the bathroom.

“Hey, I just got rid of a perfectly nice girl for you. No need for the disrespect. What’s so important anyway? You know I love to see you and all that, but usually not at this time.” He leant against the bathroom door, toothbrush sticking out of his mouth as he stared at you waiting for an answer.

Right.

You had almost forgotten that you were here for a reason other than witnessing one of your closest friends be a complete dick to a girl he’d spent the previous night with.

“Oh… Um yeah it’s all good. Get dressed or whatever then we can chat.”

Cassian stared at you for a moment longer before shrugging and returning to the bathroom. You slumped back as soon as you were out of sight, squashing the pillow Cassian had previously whacked you with against your face as your thoughts raced through your head. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

By the time Cassian was ready, you had had enough time to work yourself into a somewhat frantic state as you paced back and forth, trying to figure out how to even bring up the reason why you had almost knocked down his door on a seemingly normal Sunday.

“Jesus, what’s up with you this morning?” Your head whipped around to face Cassian, freezing mid-pace to stare at him like a deer in headlights. When the only reply you could muster was the very unsubtle opening and closing of your mouth, Cassian let out a sigh as he reached for his shoes. “Well, seeing that you appear to have a whole heap of pent up energy, we’re walking to the cafe down the street. Your shout for waking me up and prematurely ending what was sure to be a very satisfying Sunday morning.”

You scrunched your nose but nodded all the same as you silently headed towards the door, missing the concerned look on Cassian’s face as his eyes trailed your retreating figure before he jumped up to follow you out.

——

The ten minute walk was silent except for the slight crunch of autumn leaves under foot as the pair of you narrowly avoided the early risers who were jogging past along the footpath and manoeuvred around the copious stream of families with young children enjoying the crisp morning air; your heart rate soared as you tried to control your breathing

Cassian managed to score a secluded table tucked away by the window, thanking the waiter for the menus and water as you stared past him in a daze, your mind reeled of how to approach telling him what had happened, what had resulted from…

A large hand waving in front of your face had you blinking in surprise.

“Y/N?”

“Yep. Hi.”

Cassian gave you another quizzical look but was halted from saying anything else as the waiter returned, asking about coffee and food orders.

“Just a long black for me, thanks.”

You could hear your heartbeat and wouldn’t be surprised if everyone around you could as well.

“Y/N?” Cassian gave you a soft kick under the table, pulling your attention to the waiter who was looking at you expectantly.

“Oh, um… Just a latte. Thank you,” Shit. Could you even have coffee now? “Wait. I mean, no. Just a tea. Peppermint, please. If you have it. Sorry.” Your voice trailed after the waiter as he nodded and walked off with a shake of his head. So far, this was not going well.

“Alright, what has gotten into you?” The immediate retort of ‘um you?’ was held back by a bite of your tongue. “You better not be here confessing your love for me. I mean we spoke about this, right? It was just a one off, drunken night between two friends who both happen to be very attractive.”

Some of the tension left your shoulders as you offered a small smile in appreciation of Cassian’s attempt to lighten the mood.

“You’re not actually in love with me are you?” You rolled your eyes at the slight panic in his expression, deciding not to take it as an insult. “I mean, I love you, but, you know, as a friend. Because we’re friends. We’re all friends; me, you, Rhys, Az, Feyre, Mor…”

“Cassian,” you let the smile grow a bit as he prattled on. “I’m not in love with you.”

“Oh, thank god. No offence.” He offered you a guilty looking smile which softened as he nodded in encouragement for you to continue.

“But I did want to talk about that night…” You trailed off, trying to gauge Cassian’s response as he quirked his head to the side and furrowed his brows in confusion. Well, here it goes. Taking in a deep breath, you reached into your pocked and placed the pregnancy test on the table.

“Cass, I’m pregnant.”

----------

Read Part 2

I have so many ideas for this and how I want to continue it but would love to hear your thoughts!!

[vitreoushumored]

Best Guess (Part 1) | Mr. Lawrence x F! Reader

Summary: This is going to be a multi part series hopefully, but you and Doug are attending the premiere of the Spongebob movie hehe (this is set in 2004)

Contents: 18+ MDNI, eventual SMUT, mentions of alcohol, brief mentions of sex

Author’s Note: Hey guys! I know I’ve been a little inactive on here, it’s mostly because I’ve been so busy with work and school but the semester is almost done so hopefully I’ll have more time. As I mentioned above, this will be a multi part series so stay tuned! As always, Mr. Lawrence, if you see this no you didn’t.

_________________________________________________

“Is this too much? Don’t you think this is too much? I think this is too much…” you ramble to the mirror, pinching the silk fabric of your dress as it clings to your curves.

Doug had been ready for the past 20 minutes, button down and slacks accentuating his frame as he plopped down on the bed. His eyes we’re fixed on yours in the mirror, admiring how methodical you were in everything you did. Whether it be at work alongside him, or in this case, choosing the right dress.

He let out an amused breath, grinning as you frantically dig through your closet, “You know I don’t think they’re gonna turn you away at the door because you’re wearing the wrong outfit Y/N” he smirks, walking over to the growing pile of clothes on the floor. “Plus this is a celebration for all of us, remember? We kind of have the upper hand” he laughs, “And for the record, you always look beautiful in that one. Wear it.”

You let out a sigh, forfeiting the battle between you and your closet. Doug can’t help but laugh seeing you get so worked up over tonight. The past year had been very stressful as production of the movie took over both of your lives. You worked in production which meant signing away most of your free time to the confinement of studios and boardrooms. It wasn’t much different for Doug, playing a major role both on and off screen. Tonight was the premiere, which meant finally seeing your efforts come to fruition.

You slip on your shoes, taking one finale look at yourself in the mirror before heading out the door. Purse on one arm, Doug on the other as you head to the car. You felt his eyes dart back and forth from the passenger’s seat to the road as he drove to the venue, his blue eyes illuminated by high beams and magnified by his glasses. “You’re so beautiful Y/N” he finally spoke, effortless and habitual, like he’d said it a million times before (maybe he had at this point, he’d lost track). His hand finds its place on your inner thigh, rubbing lazy circles while his other grips the steering wheel. You smile warmly, his words rushing over your body in a way only he could do.

“I think tonight will actually be nice” you muse, “Plus the after party should be fun” giggling as you glance over to him.

“You’re just excited because there’s an open bar” Doug laughs, squeezing your thigh.

“Duhhh” you tease, “I’m a lot more fun after my third martini” you laugh.

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind” Doug says, rolling his eyes with affection.

“Trying to get me drunk tonight aren’t you Mr. Lawrence?” you say, half joking but knowing that by 11:00 P.M. the both of you will be more tipsy than you’d like to admit.

“Well we definitely had a great night the last time that happened” he said grinning as he pulled into the parking lot.

Although you couldn’t see it in the dark of his car, your face lit up cherry red. Memories of the last work party you both attended flooding your mind in pieces— celebrating the end of season 3, a lot of vodka, and needy, messy sex in the office bathroom.

You lean in close to his ear before whispering, “It’d be a real shame if that happened again ya know?” Letting out a shaky breath, he lets his hands fall to you hips, “I guess we’ll see then huh? You ready honey?” he says, unfastening his seatbelt.

“Let’s go” you say, not before giving him a kiss, his lips soft and warm against your own.

Tonight was going to be fun.

[kitchenisking]

Hey guys, some of the pics might be part of a series, cuz I only read them as a standalone or before they were part of a series they aren't post that way. Happy reading❤️

Birds of a Feather by Mintjulep1993 - (Rating: Mature, Words: 4,212)

Colin and Penelope are well-known writers and after an afternoon of the joys of martial bliss Pen becomes a bit reflective on her life up to this point. This is a post season 3 mostly TV canon fic—just a bit of smut and fluff.

Angel Wings by lydia_lefevere - (Rating: Mature, Words: 946)

The Bridgerton Masquerade Ball is tonight... Penelope is an angel and Colin is a goner. A sweet and romantic one shot.

Aflame by Sea_Dragonfly  - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 11,108)

Colin Bridgerton had always favoured red heads. He often found it… difficult to connect with another person; even in the most intimate of acts he felt a distance. But when he was with a woman with firey hair, something seemed to flicker in his soul.

A few nights after his return to the ton, he attends a masquerade ball hosted by the notorious Madame Littlelove. It's there he spots a courtesan with the perfect shade of auburn.

Well, at least he thinks she is a courtesan...

Rogue Wheels and Literary Feels by irockatdriving - (Rating: Mature, Words: 15,715)

Colin Bridgerton is a fan of two things, traveling and riding his motorcycle. So what happens when he meets a cute girl named Penelope Featherington working in a local bookshop?

you'll be mine and i'll be yours by latesummerbonfire - (Rating: Mature, Words: 1,930)

He tilts his head, drinking in the sight of her. Flushed, grinning and swaying with laughter. Bright eyes sparkling in the evening light, auburn hair cascading around her shoulders and framing her face. She’s so soft, every part of her, even the way she touches him, with a slide of her hand down his clothed back.

“I love you.” He says, suddenly. It wasn’t what he intended to say, but now he can’t even remember what that was. She softens.

“I love you too.”

come quickly by Demisexual Colin Bridgerton (karawrites) - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 3,764)

As they hide away in their new home for their honeymoon, Colin contemplates what intimacy and connection, sex and love, mean to him.

i’ll give you shelter from the storm by snowokay - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 10,042)

Marina heard of Colin and Penelope’s marriage and couldn’t resist paying them a visit and seeing it for herself.

Penelope didn’t take it too well.

Facing The Hurdle by myfairstarlight - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 5,313)

“You have the face of a tortured man, whose wedding night did not happen.”

Colin glares. “Careful of the words you speak, Debling.”

“Much like you should have been careful with your actions?” Debling counters. The reminder of the interrupted dance has Colin tense. “I wanted to be the honourable man, Bridgerton, but if you have changed your mind, then rest assured I will not let Penelope slip through my fingers, for she remains the only kindred spirit I found in this dreadful city. I may not be able to offer her love, but perhaps security and comfort shall be enough if that is what love looks like.” The gentleman raises his glass and then dares to set it down on the table without taking a single sip.

Or. Colin already has enough to deal with without Lord Alfred bloody Debling waltzing back into his space and pointing out how miserable he looks. (a small 3x08 rewrite)

'cause i really wanna know (will anybody ever love me?) byim_just_better_fictionally - (Rating: G, Words: 1,817)

Colin wouldn’t mind letting Penelope pace back and forth on the airport carpet if he didn’t worry the rapid speed and quick turns weren’t the signs of something a bit deeper.

“Pen, you’re making me nervous with all that walking around,” Colin said. “Come and sit down with me. Everything will be fine.”

He pats the seat next to him and sends a small prayer up to the gods that her girlfriend will listen to him.

/ / / / /

Polin Week Day 1: Polin Song

mirrors inside me, they recognise you by maxmayfield - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 8,844)

“I am very aware that our coupling prioritises my pleasure over yours,” Penelope says. “I do not wish to be selfish in our love.”

In which Penelope worries about her inexperience, and Colin offers to give her more lessons.

[chevyslate158]

Threads Of Freedom 15th Hunger Games AU Archer Brown x Fem!Reader: Chapter 3 - Repercussions and Constrictions

A/N: Hey everyone! I hope you enjoyed Chapter 3 of Threads of Freedom (15th Hunger Games AU) featuring Archer Brown x Fem!Reader! 💖 As always, your feedback and opinions are greatly appreciated—feel free to share your thoughts on the story so far! Apologies for the late post, life got a little hectic, but I’m so thankful for your patience! 😊✨ Thank you for reading! Word Count: 5.1K Warnings: Tension/conflict, emotional strain, themes of guilt, internal conflict, political control, mentions of violence from the previous fight, oppressive government control, threats, arguments and themes of rebellion. Chapters: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 ----------------------------------------------------------------------

The early morning light filtered through the cracks in the worn shutters of the small room, casting long shadows across the floor as Y/n and Archer sat across from each other, the tension thick in the air. The sound of the peaceful hum of District 12 was muffled, as though the world itself was holding its breath. Archer had stayed the night, unwilling to face his family with bruised knuckles and the story of a fight at the Hob.

He didn’t want to see the worry in their eyes or deal with the questions that would undoubtedly follow. Here, in the safety of Y/n’s home, he could gather his thoughts, though the weight of the night before still pressed heavily on his chest.

It hadn’t been an easy night. After the fight, Y/n had led him to her small home, her touch as steady as her resolve despite the tension clinging to them both. Archer sat on a worn chair by the fire while she cleaned his wounds, the warmth of her hands and the light from the hearth a stark contrast to the chaos they’d left behind. At some point, exhaustion claimed him, and she convinced him to stay, settling him on a makeshift bed on the floor near the fire.

He remembered the quiet knock of her father returning home late from the mines. Archer stirred but stayed silent as Y/n greeted her father at the door, her frame briefly silhouetted by the faint moonlight. Her father’s voice was gruff but tinged with concern when he asked what had happened. 

“Everything’s fine,” Y/n reassured him, her tone gentle but firm. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

When she stepped away to fetch water for them both, Archer caught the faint sound of her father’s voice as he said, “You know, I really like that boy.” Archer’s heart skipped a beat, and he felt his cheeks flush as the words reached him. “He’s good for you. You’re better together than apart.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Y/n replied softly, and Archer could hear the warmth in her voice. 

The moment lingered in his mind long after she returned with two chipped cups of water, sitting beside him and handing one over with a small smile and resting her head lightly on his shoulder. Her father had let the matter drop after that, offering Archer a firm but understanding nod before retiring for the night. Archer knew Y/n’s father had always liked him, but hearing those words filled him with a quiet determination, a sense that maybe, despite everything, he was doing something right.

Now, in the stillness of the morning, Archer shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his gaze darting toward the window. “You think your dad’s mad I stayed?” he asked, his voice low.

Y/n shook her head, a soft smile tugging at her lips accompanied by a laugh. “Not at all. He’s always thought highly of you. He trusts you.”

Archer’s throat tightened at her words. The trust of her father—and Y/n’s trust—meant more to him than he could express. Yet, the weight of what had happened the night before—the fight, the disturbance at the Hob, the Capitol's growing presence—made it hard for him to fully appreciate the fleeting comfort.

“I just didn’t want them worrying about me,” Archer muttered, glancing down at his bruised knuckles. “My family’s already got enough to deal with. They don’t need to know about me throwing punches at the Hob.”

Y/n leaned forward, her eyes meeting his. “You were defending me, Archer. And I’m not going to let you carry all the blame for it. We’re in this together, okay?”

Her words settled something in him, a small balm to the guilt that gnawed at his insides. Together. That word meant everything. Even in the face of the Capitol’s tightening grip, the whispers of rebellion in their hearts still burned brightly.

Archer’s eyes drifted to the faint morning light pooling at the edges of the shutters, his thoughts tangled in worry. The fight had been reckless, and he knew it. But the way her ex had sneered, the cruel words meant to tear her down—it had been too much to ignore.

Yet now, with the weight of her father’s approval still lingering in his mind, Archer wondered if his impulsiveness had only painted a larger target on both their backs. He reached for her hand, his fingers brushing against hers in a silent promise to stand by her, no matter what was to come.

Y/n glanced up at him, her lips parting as if to say something, but the words never came. Instead, her gaze shifted to the small room around them, the peeling paint on the walls, the uneven floorboards that creaked beneath even the softest steps. This was their world—a fragile, imperfect place where survival meant walking a fine line between submission and defiance. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the line was growing thinner with every passing day.

“Do you think they’ll come for us?” Y/n asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She fiddled with the hem of her dress, the fabric worn and threadbare from years of use, but there was no comfort in the familiar touch not now. Her mind raced through a thousand possibilities, each darker than the last.

Archer’s jaw tightened, and his eyes, usually so steady and calm, were clouded with frustration. He ran a hand through his messy hair, the usual tousled look replaced with something more akin to exhaustion. 

“I don’t know. I never should’ve let it get that far,” he muttered, the guilt heavy in his words. “I should’ve just ignored him, but—” He paused, glancing down at his hands as if they betrayed him, “I couldn't just stand there and let him mock you or belittle you.”

Y/n’s heart clenched at the sincerity in his tone. She could feel the weight of his guilt, but part of her knew that it wasn’t entirely his fault. Her ex had crossed a line, and the fiery emotions that followed had burned a path through everything they had worked so hard to protect.

“He knew what he was doing when he pulled that stunt it isn't our fault,” Y/n replied softly, her gaze unwavering. “But now... the Capitol's not going to let it slide.” She swallowed hard. “The Hob’s going to be under their watch. I wouldn't be surprised if it meant no more dancing or music. We’ve brought trouble down on everyone no matter how unintentional it was.”

Archer let out a frustrated sigh, standing up abruptly and pacing across the room the floorboard groaning with each step. He had always been the cautious one, the one who kept his head down, worked hard, and stayed out of trouble. Now, for the first time, it felt like the ground beneath him was crumbling, like he was being pulled in a direction he didn’t understand. A direction that led straight into danger.

The sounds of footsteps echoed from outside, and Y/n tensed, a wave of dread washing over her. Archer turned toward the window, peering through the gap in the boards. His face grew grim.

“More peacekeepers,” he muttered, half to himself. "They’re increasing the patrols around here. This can’t be good.”

Y/n stood and walked over to join him, her heart pounding in her chest. Through the crack, she could see the usual peacekeeper presence, but today it seemed even more intense. There were more of them, and they weren’t just walking the streets—they were scanning every corner, watching every face that moved.

-Later that day- Y/n and Archer walked through the dusty streets of District 12, the weight of the recent events heavy on their shoulders. The air seemed suffocating, filled with hushed conversations and wary glances as the townsfolk exchanged fearful looks. The usual hum of daily life had been replaced with an underlying tension, a sense that the fragile peace they once took for granted was unravelling.

"You hear about what happened at the Hob?" one woman muttered to another, her voice barely audible. "Peacekeepers are gonna come down hard on us now. We’ll all pay for that little stunt at the hob."

Archer’s posture stiffened at the words, his gaze flicking toward the source of the conversation. The resentment was evident, but what cut deeper was the undercurrent of fear. Fear that their small act of rebellion would bring down even harsher punishments, not just on them, but on everyone in the district.

Y/n spotted a group of men from the Hob up ahead, their faces drawn tight with worry. One of them, a tall, gangly man named Eamon, locked eyes with her and quickly approached, his expression tense.

"Did you two start that fight?" he demanded, his voice gruff and full of frustration. "Because if you did, you've just made life harder for all of us. We don’t need the Capitol’s eyes on us any more than they already are."

Archer opened his mouth to retort, but Y/n stepped forward, placing a calming hand on his arm silencing him. She turned to face Eamon, her voice even but laced with strain. "We didn’t start it," she said quietly. "But I understand your concerns.” Eamon’s gaze sharpened, his lips curling into a tight line. "You’re dam right, girl," he said, his tone low and heavy. "It’s District 12. If the Capitol tightens its grip here, we’re all gonna feel it. Everyone will."

Y/n nodded slowly, her chest tightening with the weight of his words. Y/n took a deep breath, her gaze softening as she looked at Eamon. She could feel the tension between them, the weight of the situation pressing down on both sides. This wasn’t her fault, but she knew the impact of their actions had already begun to ripple through the district. She needed to ease the moment, for Eamon’s sake as much as hers.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, her voice sincere, yet laced with the regret she carried. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. We’re all just trying to survive, but... I never wanted to put anyone else at risk.”

Eamon’s eyes flickered with something—maybe understanding, maybe resignation—but he didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he gave a sharp nod, the lines on his face deepening as he sighed.

"Just... be careful," he muttered, his voice a mix of caution and frustration. "This place isn’t as forgiving as it used to be we’re all on thin ice."

Y/n gave him a small, apologetic nod, her heart heavy with his words. Without another word, she turned, her hand quickly finding Archer’s. She squeezed his fingers gently, the quiet comfort of his touch grounding her as they continued walking through the town.

"Good day, Eamon," she called over her shoulder, her voice firm yet polite, as she kept moving forward. She didn’t wait for a response. There was nothing left to say, not here, not now. They had their own path to follow, and the weight of their journey felt heavier with every step.

As Archer and I continued to walk through the streets of District 12 the sudden sound of a loudspeaker crackled to life and rang through District 12 like nails on a chalkboard, the voice of the District 12 commander booming over the loudspeakers, instructing all citizens to report immediately to the reaping area. 

The air grew thick with unease as the crowd began to gather, murmurs of confusion and fear rippling through the streets. People exchanged nervous glances, wondering why, with two weeks still to go before the official reaping ceremony and why everyone in 12 was suddenly called into the reaping area like a herd of sheep.

The tight-knit community, usually accustomed to their own quiet routines, was now filled with a sense of dread, the unknown weighing heavily on each of them. Y/n’s breath hitched as peacekeepers moved swiftly through the crowd, their stern expressions cutting through the tension like knives.

It wasn’t just the gathering of people that had everyone on edge—it was the fact that a Capitol official had arrived so early, and no one had any idea why on earth a man of that position would be here. Surely the hob fight wasn’t the cause of a Capitol official entering District 12.

As the crowd pressed in around her, Y/n felt Archer’s hand find hers, his grip tight and steady, grounding her in the chaos. They were pushed forward, forced into the reaping area, their bodies pressed uncomfortably against the others. The space was cramped, the air thick with the stench of sweat, smoke, coal and fear.

Archer’s fingers tightened around hers as if trying to shield her from the overwhelming anxiety that seemed to vibrate in the air each pile of nerves ricocheting from one to another like waves. They were no longer just a few familiar faces in a community—they were now part of a captive audience, herded like livestock. Every step felt like it carried the weight of their lives, with the Capitol’s watchful eyes now trained on them, ensuring no one would escape.

Despite the growing panic, a small sense of relief washed over Y/n when she spotted Annie pushing her way through the crowd her ginger hair standing out like a sore thumb amongst the crowd. She made her way toward Y/n, squeezing in beside her just as the peacekeepers began to line the walls, their sharp eyes scanning every face with cold precision.

Annie, though visibly shaken, managed a faint smile before the weight of the moment sank in again. With peacekeepers lining every exit, the tension in the air was suffocating. They were trapped, not just physically but in the reality that the Capitol was tightening its grip on them, and they had no choice but to wait for what would come next.

The Commander of District 12 stepped forward, his sharp uniform cutting through the crowd’s growing restlessness. He cleared his throat, raising his hand to silence the murmurs. The peacekeepers around the area shifted, their eyes watching everyone with unwavering intensity. The crowd fell into uneasy silence, and all eyes turned toward the commander.

"Everyone, quiet down," the Commander called out, his voice carrying over the sea of people. "We’ve been asked to gather here today by a representative of the Capitol. Though President Coriolanus Snow is unable to be here in person today, he’s sent someone in his stead to address us."

Y/n’s stomach churned at the mention of the President’s name. She knew, of course, that Coriolanus Snow now ruled Panem, but hearing his name felt like a weight pressing against her chest.

With that, the Commander stepped aside, and a tall, impeccably dressed Capitol official made his way to the front. The man’s sharp features and slick, perfectly styled hair marked him immediately as someone who had spent years grooming himself for the role of servitude to the Capitol. His voice was high-pitched and annoyingly posh, as though each word had been carefully rehearsed and delivered with the precision of a trained performer.

"Citizens of District 12," he began, his voice amplified by the loudspeaker, making the words echo through the reaping area. The sound of his voice grated against Y/n’s nerves immediately. It was as if each syllable had been dipped in condescension, a tone meant to remind them all of their place in this wretched society.

“It is an honour to address you on behalf of President Coriolanus Snow, who could not make this meeting in person. As you are all aware, the Capitol keeps a close eye on all of its districts, ensuring that order and peace are maintained across the nation. The President has sent me here to personally address some matters of great importance.”

Y/n felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise, the sound of his voice like nails on a chalkboard, sending a shiver through her. She could see people around her shifting uncomfortably, their eyes narrowing as they listened to his every word.

"I know you may be wondering," he continued, his voice too smooth, "Why such an early visit? And why, with two weeks to go before the reaping ceremony, have we gathered you all here?"

His grin widened, and Y/n cringed as the smugness in his expression reflected in his words. "The President wants to make one thing clear today—there are no exceptions. District 12 will be monitored closely. There is no tolerance for disruptions, no room for rebellion."

Y/n’s teeth clenched at his words, the mockery in his tone almost unbearable. She couldn’t stand the way he spoke, as though they were nothing more than pawns to be moved around.

The Capitol official's gaze swept over the crowd, his eyes narrowing slightly as though sizing everyone up before he continued, “And as for the recent disturbance at the Hob…” He paused for a moment, letting the words hang in the air like a weight.

“The Capitol is well aware of the events that transpired. The defiance, the unrest, the blatant disregard for order—it cannot and will not be tolerated. Let me make this very clear: the Hob, along with any gatherings like it, will be shut down until further notice. Any further incidents, any more of this... disorder,” he spat the word as if it were venom, “will be met with swift consequences. District 12 will be made an example of. The Capitol will not hesitate to enforce the law.”

The crowd shifted uncomfortably, whispers of anxiety rippling through the mass. Y/n could feel the tension in the air, the suffocating pressure of knowing they were all being watched, their every move under the Capitol’s microscope. She clenched her fists at her sides, trying to keep herself steady, but the words stung. The Hob—the last place in District 12 where people could escape, even for a little while, from the oppression—was being taken from them.

Archer squeezed her hand tighter as if sensing the same unease. The Capitol official’s voice droned on, a false calm in his tone, but all Y/n could hear was the pounding of her heart in her ears. The Hob had been a sanctuary, a place where people came together, even if just for a fleeting moment. Now, that small defiance was being extinguished, and the air in the reaping area felt colder, heavier, as though a part of their already fragile lives had been stolen away.

As the Capitol official finished speaking, the crowd slowly began to disperse, their anxious murmurs growing louder as they filed out of the reaping area. The weight of his words lingered in the air like a shadow, casting a pall over the entire district. 

Y/n, still trying to process the sting of the Hob’s closure, turned to Annie, who stood beside her, looking equally unsettled. "I’ll see you later," Y/n said, offering a strained smile, but Annie only nodded, her face pale with worry. Y/n could sense the unease in the air, the oppressive weight of the Capitol’s presence hanging over them, but there was little more to say. They were all in this together, but it didn’t feel like enough anymore.

With one last glance at Annie, Y/n turned to Archer, who was already waiting for her, his expression a mixture of quiet determination and the same unease that had settled in Y/n’s chest. His grip on her hand tightened slightly, a silent reassurance that they were still in this together.

They exchanged no words; there was nothing more to say. They simply started walking side by side, moving through the narrow, winding streets of District 12, their footsteps muffled on the dust-covered road. The usual hum of life in the district felt distant, swallowed up by the heavy weight of the tension in the air. The oppressive silence between them mirrored the tightening noose around the district.

The peacekeepers’ presence seemed amplified today—standing on every corner, patrolling the alleys, their eyes constantly scanning, as if searching for any signs of rebellion or disobedience. Even the air felt heavier, weighed down by an unspoken fear that clung to the edges of every conversation and every glance exchanged.

As they passed by the Hob, Y/n’s heart sank, her steps slowing instinctively. It was as if the world had paused in that moment, the sight of the boarded-up building sending a wave of dread crashing over her. The Hob had always been more than just a meeting place; it had been a sanctuary of sorts, a place where the people of District 12 could breathe, where they could share whispered conversations about change and dream of a life beyond the Capitol’s reach.

It was their small act of defiance, their last bit of rebellion against the crushing weight of their lives. But now, as they stood there, looking at the building, the familiar wooden door was completely sealed shut, covered in rough, hastily nailed planks. 

The windows were dark, the dim light that had once filtered through was now blocked off completely. It felt as if the heart of the district had been ripped out. The guilt of the disturbance—the fight that had sparked this crackdown—washed over Y/n, even though she knew, deep down, it wasn’t entirely their fault.

They hadn’t asked for this. But it didn’t matter. In her mind, they were the catalyst for the crackdown, the ones who had given the Capitol a reason to crack down harder on the district. And now, the Hob, the one place that had still offered some sense of hope, was silenced. 

The weight of that loss settled on her shoulders, making her feel as though they had contributed to something irreparable. Even Archer, usually so steady, walked with a tense posture, his eyes fixed ahead, avoiding the sight of the Hob, but Y/n could see the guilt written all over his face too. It was a shared burden, and though neither of them had asked for it, it was theirs to carry.

As they continued walking in the direction of Y/n’s home with Archer insisting he walk her home after a while they now reached the fields. Archer’s hand stayed firmly wrapped around mine as they walked through the fields, the tall grass brushing their ankles with each step.

The open expanse before them should have felt like freedom, but the weight of the Capitol’s looming presence hung heavy in the air. Y/n could feel it—every step they took, every breath they shared, was tainted by the fear of what was coming next. The window for escape was closing. They both knew it.

“I think we need to make up our minds soon,” Y/n said softly, her voice breaking through the silence that had settled between them. She glanced at him, her heart aching. “The Capitol won’t give us much longer. We have to leave before it’s too late. Before they tighten their grip even more.”

Archer’s pace faltered for a moment, and he looked away, his jaw clenched. She could see the conflict in his eyes—the hesitation that had always been there, the fear that had held him back from truly considering escape. She understood his hesitation; leaving meant risking everything. But she wasn’t sure how much longer she could wait.

“We can’t wait forever, Archer,” she continued, trying to keep her voice steady. “I’m not saying it’s easy, but we have to make a choice. The longer we wait, the harder it will be to get away.”

Archer’s steps grew more forceful, and suddenly, he stopped, whirling to face her with an expression that was both frustrated and exhausted. "I know what you're saying," he snapped, his voice sharper than she had expected. 

His hand dropped from hers, and he ran it through his hair, clearly stressed, trying to push the weight of everything out of his mind. “But every time you say it, it's like you think I don’t understand the urgency. You think I don’t get it?" 

His eyes burned with frustration, the tension in his broad shoulders evident. "I’m just trying to figure out how we don’t get caught, alright? I’m not ready to have a Capitol official at our door. And I don’t need you pushing me to make decisions when all I can think about is how the hell we’re going to survive."

Y/n took a step back, feeling the sting of his words. He didn’t mean it. She knew he didn’t. But the pressure of their situation, the fear of the unknown, had made it harder for him to process everything, and she had pushed too hard. She swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing herself to nod, though she still felt the sting of his anger. He was stressed, and she knew better than to push him further, not right now. Still, the worry gnawed at her—time was running out, and they couldn’t afford to wait much longer.

Archer’s shoulders were tense, his frustration mounting with every passing second. Y/n could feel the tension in the air, thick and suffocating. She had pushed him too far, and he was cracking under the weight of it all. His fists clenched at his sides, and he took another step closer to her, his voice now low and tight with anger.

“Why can’t you just understand?” Archer’s words were like a whip, sharp and biting. “I don’t have an answer yet! You want me to make a decision on the spot, but I’m not going to risk everything for some dream of getting away, not without knowing how it will end. It’s not that simple!”

Y/n’s heart raced, the pressure of everything collapsing around her. The uncertainty, the danger, the mounting expectations—she couldn’t take it anymore. She had been patient, understanding, but the constant back-and-forth, the constant hesitation—it was draining her.

“You think it’s easy for me?” she snapped back, her voice loud with the anger that had been building inside her for days. “You think I’m not terrified too? You think I don’t know the risks?” She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, but the words came out sharp, like a weapon she didn’t mean to wield.

“I’m not asking you to have everything figured out, Archer. I’m asking you to make a choice. To do something instead of standing here, paralyzed by fear. If you don’t want to leave, then fine! But don’t keep dragging me through this if you’re not ready to make a move.”

Without waiting for his response, Y/n turned away, her chest tight as she walked off, her footsteps heavy on the ground. She didn’t look back, even though every part of her wanted to. She needed space, to breathe, to think. The last thing she needed was more hesitation, more indecision. She didn’t have time to waste, and it felt like Archer was running out of it just as much as she was.

As Y/n walked away, the weight of her words settling in, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of uncertainty deep in her chest. This was harder than she had ever imagined. She wanted to leave with Archer, she really did—more than anything. But the doubts lingered, gnawing at her. She had hoped that, in time, he would come around, that they could make the decision together. But as the days slipped by, the window to escape was closing, and she wondered if she would have to make the final move on her own.

-Archers POV- 

As Archer walked through the fields, his thoughts were a tangled mess of frustration and guilt. He had always been the cautious one, the one who kept his head down and his mouth shut, doing what was necessary to survive. But ever since Y/n had come into his life ever since they were little, everything had changed. 

His feelings for her, fierce and overwhelming, drove him to act in ways that went against everything he had been taught. At the Hob, when he’d seen that man disrespecting her, all his careful plans and the restraint he had spent years perfecting had been forgotten in a heartbeat. The anger had erupted from deep within him, and for the first time, he had lashed out, not just to protect her, but because something inside him couldn’t bear to see her hurt.

But now, walking alone, the weight of his actions felt heavier than it ever had before. He had snapped at her—Y/n, the one person who always understood him, who had been by his side for so long. 

And for what? Because he was scared? Because he didn’t want to take the risk of everything falling apart? He felt selfish for dragging her into this, for making her feel like she was alone in this fight. He wanted to leave, to run with her, but the thought of it—of being caught, of endangering her—paralyzed him. Archer knew it wasn’t just fear of the Capitol that held him back; it was his own inability to fully trust in their escape, in their dream of freedom.

As he arrived home, the familiar sight of his mother waiting for him in the kitchen made his chest tighten. She could always tell when something was wrong, and tonight, he knew she would ask. 

After a long pause, he sat down at the table, feeling her gaze settle on him. "What happened?" she asked softly, her tone more curious than concerned. 

Archer let out a heavy sigh and leaned back, running a hand through his hair. "I snapped at Y/n," he admitted quietly, his voice laced with regret. "We argued about leaving. I don’t want to drag her into this… but at the same time, I can’t stand the thought of losing her. Everything’s changing, Ma. The Capitol’s tightening their grip, and it feels like the window to leave is closing."

His mother listened carefully, her face serious but kind. She knew the struggle all too well—the delicate balance between survival and defiance. "You’re both fighting the same fight, Archer," she said, her voice low but firm. "You can’t always protect her from everything, but you can be there for her. And maybe she needs you to believe in her as much as she believes in you. But that means you have to make a choice. You can’t keep holding back." Archer glanced at his mother, the weight of her words sinking in. His heart ached with the thought of leaving Y/n behind, but deep down, he knew his hesitation was about more than fear. It was about a future he wasn’t sure he could give her. He only hoped that, in time, he would find the courage to choose.

[inhibitionfreewriting]

r u a noah kahn enjoyer? not sure if ur taking requests rn but northern attitude for ludwig

oh not this song make me feel a lot of emotions 😳 okay.

listen. i've never heard this song until you suggested it. first of all, thank you for the suggestion. second of all, my heart vomited this up but i like it.

there will be AT LEAST a part 2 because when i got to where i got to i was like okay time to put it down and look at this again tomorrow. this is my version of putting down a piece of art to look at mistakes tomorrow, except i'll be writing more tomorrow.

-- PART 1 --

You and Ludwig hadn't seen each other in a few years, a fall out due to graduation and time. It's funny, they say you'll lose the friends you made in high school but the ones in college are friends for life, yet here you were with one of your friends from high school asking you how you knew Ludwig.

"We went to college together. We were study buddies, how do you know Ludwig?"

"He's a streamer - how do you," she stopped and put the picture frame down. "How do you not know that? You're online, like, all the time?" You shrugged. You were on your computer all the time but you worked on graphic design, you weren't necessarily on the internet. Half the time you just listened to music.

The curiosity gets to you though, would he remember you? You certainly remembered him - plenty of nights in one of your rooms, working on homework together, a night or two drinking shitty wine and watching a movie. A love found but lost.

you: hey ludwig not sure if you still have my number but we were friends in college, heard you are a big streamer now, good use of an english degree lol

An olive branch, a life line, even. You put your phone down, either he'd delete it because you seem like some random fan or he had your number blocked. Within minutes though, you had a reply.

Ludwig: how could i forget you i wouldn’t have passed biology without you. glad SOMEONE appreciates my english degree; usually i’m roasted for it 💀

You laughed. You made fun of him for it from the moment you met him, it made sense that everyone else did too. Conversation flowed easily. You couldn't remember the last time you laughed so hard, and honestly, he couldn't either. It was easy for you two to fall back into a rhythm, like it had only been a weekend apart.

Ludwig: would you ever want to get lunch or something?

He would never admit to how long it took to get the courage to ask, just as you would never admit how little thought you put into your 'yes of course!' reply.

--

Just a few days later and you were walking into a little café with him standing up to greet you and banging his knee into the table, yelping.

"Oh my god you didn't have to stand, I'm not the president," you laughed, crossing the distance and embracing him in a long awaited hug. He returned it, shrugging off your comment and for the first moment of many today, it felt like nothing had changed at all. Ludwig's arms tight around you, he still smelled like the same mix of deodorant and cologne. Something akin to a forest, teakwood... maybe birch. Something generic but home to you.

"It's good to see you," his voice was quiet in your hair, almost lost. There was a pounding in his chest that made his hands sweat and when you pulled away he anxiously rubbed his palms against his jeans. You both sat, your bag sliding between your feet at the table and conversation flowed like a waterfall.

How has life been? How are your folks? Do you still talk to anyone from school? How do you like streaming? What's been the best part of the experience? Are you in love with anyone? What do you do now, for work? Do you like it? Do you still go to the movie theater? Do you still think of me when you watch Crimson Peak?

"Do you still have that stuffed chipmunk I won you?" He leaned back in his seat and knocked his feet into yours. Suddenly, the embarrassment bubbled up onto your face, cheeks getting hot-hot-hot and he noticed. "If you don't it's okay."

"No I- I do. I uh," you felt like you were going to pass out, Ludwig leaned forward and rested his head in his hands, a shit-eating grin sliding onto his face. "I still sleep with it? It just. Lives on my bed." He wanted to tease you about it, keeping such a stupid memento for the past, what 5-6 years? But any comment was caught in his throat. "Well, say something already! I know you want to!"

"I-I'm just happy you still have it... would have thought you'd toss it out or somethin'," he found it hard to look you in the eyes, choosing to look at the cup on the table.

"How could I ever throw Mr. Stripes out? He was basically our mascot to get through tests. He's my good luck charm." You knocked your foot into his a few times, light taps and he looked back up at you with an almost nervous smile.

Hours had passed, drinks and snacks had come and gone. Your volume had only gotten louder and the laughter more rambunctious. One of the employees came over and Ludwig wiped the tears from his eyes.

"I'm so sorry, we're about to close for the rest of the day. Do either of you maybe want anything to go?" You shook your head, finally calming down from laughter.

"Thank you, I'm okay. Lud?"

"I'm good too," he shook his head, standing up. "Sorry if we deterred any customers, didn't mean to be so loud." The worker shook her head with a pleasant smile.

"It was nice to see you and your girlfriend on such a nice date."

"Oh we're not-" "We're not dating."

"Oh! I'm so sorry. Anyway - we close in a few minutes. We hope to see you two again." She left before you could reassure her it was fine and not an issue but Ludwig was holding his hand out like you need the help to stand up. You take his hand regardless after grabbing your bag.

"You uh, wanna come back to my place?"

"Sure."

[monaisme]

Sicktember: Day 1

#1- “I’m not hungover. I’m just sick.” (Or vice versa)

“Mr. Parker,” Dr. Zhang intoned as Peter tried- and failed- to sneak into his class four minutes past its 8:30am start time. The man had obviously taken in Peter’s haggard appearance, because he continued, “While I can appreciate that this is relatively early for a Monday morning class, and we are approaching the end of term, can you please explain to me why you think it is appropriate to slink into my class hungover?”

Peter tried to process exactly what he’d meant, then hiked his backpack over his aching shoulders, wishing he was back at the apartment rather than here. “I’m sorry, sir?” He was confused. “I don’t understand.”

“That is precisely my point.” Apparently Dr. Zhang had reached an end, “How do you, or any of you, for that matter,” The professor waggled a finger at everyone one of the other students in the lecture hall, “expect to succeed in Principles and Applications of Genetic Engineering for Biotechnology and Neuroscience if you continue to not take it and its requirements seriously?!”

“But—” Peter tried to stop him... to explain, but the man was on a roll.

“Yes, the parties and socializing are enjoyable—even I remember what it was like to be young and stupid!—But now is the time to decide how seriously you are going to take your education!” He pointed to his syllabus, framed and hung on the wall beside the smart board. “You must commit! Exams are only weeks away. Can any one of you honestly say that you’re fully prepared?”    

The students stayed silent as they watched their professor’s face grow more and more red, all of them refusing to become a part of the unscripted drama.

“Very well, then. What about you, Mr. Parker?” He turned his frustration back to its original target. “In your current state, do you think you’d be ready to pass this class if I handed you your final exam right now?”

Professor Zhang finally stopped for a breath.

Peter cleared away the tickle in his throat. “Uh, sir?” he felt that he’d caught up enough to what he’d been raving about to finally get a word in, “I’m not hungover. I’m just sick.”

Even feeling as fuzzy-headed as Peter was, he could see the righteous indignation evaporate and the embarrassment creep in as Dr. Zhang deflated and he realized his error. He heaved an audible sigh, pinched the bridge of his nose, and dropped his head, “Very well. Grab a mask from my desk and take your seat, Mr. Parker... and please make a greater effort to arrive on time for class going forward.”

Peter ignored the whispers coming from the rest of the students. He simply mumbled a, “yessir,” and shuffled to the man’s desk to pluck a mask from the box sat on its corner, put it on, and then finally made his way to the empty seat that was furthest away from the rest of his classmates.

This was going to be a long day.

/-/-/

It was as Peter was packing up his notes and textbook at the end of his third class of the day that he realized that he’d hit a wall and needed to be done. His throat was aching, his head was pounding, and he was fairly certain he was developing a fever, which was strange because when that usually happened, it was almost a guarantee that—

‘Thunderstruck’ blared from the phone Peter was positive he’d silenced before his first class had finally started for the day, but it didn’t even matter. What Tony wanted, Tony got, and Tony wanted to talk to Peter. He sagged in defeat, sighed, and pulled his phone from his pocket, propping it awkwardly against his shoulder as he accepted the call. “Hey, Tony,” he rasped.

“Yikes! You’ll have to forgive me for what I’m about to say, but I was just talking to Morgan and you know that once the ‘dad vibe’ starts flowin, it’s all but over, so.” Tony paused, then, “In light of how amazing you sound, the rock factory called and they want their gravel back.” Tony teased lightheartedly, then sobered. “And now that I’ve gotten that out of the way, I’m guessing you’ve noticed your biometrics are a little wonky, huh? And I’m hoping that means that I don’t have to fight to convince you to call it a day?”

“Oh, no convincing necessary.” Peter ground out painfully as he zipped up his backpack, and shifted the phone from his shoulder to his hand as he exited the room and ducked into an out of the way nook. “I noticed, and yeah, I think I’m gonna head back to the apartment. I’ve just gotta catch the TA for my next class to get the reading assignment before I go home and hunker down with this thing.”

Tony didn’t say anything for a moment, but Peter could hear the sound of traffic in the background and realized that the man was driving, “While that sounds like a solid start to your plan, kid, can I make it better for you? Perhaps by offering you a car ride home?”

Peter tried to chuckle, whimpered at the pain in his throat instead, and soldiered on with the conversation, “I’m not sure if you’re aware, Tony, but MIT is not exactly in Manhattan. Do we need to do the whole google maps thing for you?”

“Hilarious, kid, don’t even joke about google—you know that Stark Industries offers the superior product.”

“I do,” Peter nodded, even though Tony couldn’t see. “Doesn’t change the fact that you’re not exactly in my neighbourhood.”

“But what if I told you I was in town for the next couple of days for meetings and I’d planned on surprising my favourite spider-baby today with a big ol’ midday hug and lunch at my favourite diner before he’d gotten all diseased and festering?”

“Now who’s being funny?” Yeah, the drive and the hug sounded amazing, but idea of eating was about as appealing as the idea of lingering in the overcrowded hallway any longer than he had to, so he ignored that altogether, “But, uh, are you sure about the ride to the apartment?” Peter had to ask. “I’d hate it if you got sick because of me...”

“Pfft. Kid, if I can survive Morgan’s preschool and kindergarten years, I think I can manage driving you home and getting you sorted for the rest of the day—or at least until one of your buddies gets home to tag in— or kicks me out, if it’s MJ, whichever comes first.”

The idea had Peter almost weeping with relief. “That sounds great,” Newly motivated, Peter made his way toward the building exit, “Where do you want me to meet you after I find my TA?”

Tony went quiet again, then, “I’ll be on Amherst in about twenty minutes. Does that give you enough time to get things done?”

Peter calculated how long he’d need to find Anne in the next building over and to get what he’d need for what he guessed was going to be the next few days. It would be cutting it close, but Tony knew the area and could loop back if worse came to worst, “Yeah, I think I can do it.” He stepped out into the cold early December air. “I’ll see you soon.”

/-/-/

“Yeesh! Kid! What the heck are you doing?!” Tony called out as a still face-masked Peter jumped into the front seat of the car. “Your aunt would murder you dead if she saw you without a coat!”

Peter didn’t reply, only tossed his backpack onto the floor, pulled up his hoodie hood and tighten the strings as he shivered. “I am young and I am invincible.”

Tony put a hand to the part of Peter’s forehead not covered up and winced in sympathy, “I think the word you’re actually looking for is ‘idiotic.’”

Peter hugged himself for warmth. “Shh. Be nice to me. I’m sick,” he insisted as he tried to get comfortable.

“I’m not sure how much ‘nicer’ I can get?” Tony pulled away from the curb, ignoring the honks of the cars behind him and wound his way through traffic. He looked over to his son-in-all-but-blood. “Though I do feel obligated to say that I’m not sure I can make the fact that you look like death warmed over sound any nicer either?” He pressed the button to turn on Peter’s seat warmer and adjusted the vent to help the kid out.

Peter glared. “Ugh. Don’t even. I mean- I knew something was coming on this morning, but I can usually fight it off pretty quick.”

“Maybe it’s something going around campus?” Tony asked.

“Not that I can tell- classes are still full enough.” Peter shook his head as he answered, then stopped. “I wonder if—” While it shouldn’t have been possible, Peter paled even further. “Aww, man. I wonder if I caught something from that guy I had to perform CPR on when we were all home for Thanksgiving?”

“Oof. It could explain things.” Tony thought for a second, “You’d think we’d have found a way to work around the whole mask thing by now, though, huh? But no! That’s not a now problem,” he shook off the distraction. “Did you want me to follow up and see if I can access his medical records from after he was admitted to hospital? See what the deal was?”

“Yeah,” Peter relaxed and melted into his now warmed seat. “At least I won’t need to worry that I’ve caught the plague or something.”  

“Anything for you, kid—FRIDAY? Can you jump on that?”

“Of course, Boss,” the AI echoed through the car, “Though it would seem New York Department of Health is currently reconfiguring some systems and have implemented additional security features. There will be delay while I navigate—with apologies.”

“All good,” Tony replied, then glanced over, “So did you still want to head to the apartment or should we head to the tower and get you checked out by your favourite doctor? Especially if you’re worried about it.”

Peter glared back, “Don’t promise to take me to my own bed and then try to take it back, mister.”

Tony only caught a glimpse of his death stare, but chuckled nonetheless. “Alright then, no need to tell me twice, but if it gets any worse...”

“I’ll say something, Tony. I promise.”

Satisfied, Tony nodded, and the car grew quiet, staying that way until Peter’s apartment block came into view.

“Home again, home again, jiggety-jig.” Tony sang to himself as he pulled into one of the visitor parking spots. “Okay, Pete,” he unbuckled his seat belt then shifted to face a very dozy Peter. “Let’s get you upstairs. You can take a quick shower, and while you do that, I’ll set up the couch for a movie marathon to end all movie marathons and double check the grocery situation just in case you need any soup or the like. Sound good?”

Peter barely shrugged. “Sure,” he mumbled then unbuckled his own seatbelt with some effort.

“Perfect!” Tony exited the car with a spring in his step, “Let’s get this party started.” He walked around to the passenger side door and took the backpack from a struggling Peter. “And if I forget to say this later,” Tony wrapped a supportive arm around Peter’s shoulder and guided him to the apartment entrance, “Thank you so much for getting sick today. Pepper had me attending a meeting with Accounting, if you can believe it!”

Peter snorted, “I’m glad I could be of some use to you.” He winced as he spoke.

“Zoinks, kid! I wasn’t sure it could happen, but I think you’re sounding worse! Let’s get you upstairs.”  

“Agreed,” Peter whispered, not even trying to pretend.

“And no texting anyone that I’m taking care of you, either.” Tony demanded as they arrived at the elevator, “They’ll skip class and come rushing to your aid like the Scooby gang that you all are—don’t tell MJ I said that.” The elevator door opened and they stepped in, Tony pressing the button for the sixth floor. “All joking aside, now that you’re all grown up, I don’t get to take care of my first kid all that often and, you know—”

Peter sighed. “I know... Pepper will send reinforcements and make you go back to your meetings?”

Tony chuckled, “And Pepper will absolutely make me head back to my meetings.”

@sicktember

[sillyztring01]

1. a ghost believer and a ghost skeptic

“They aren’t real, you scaredy cat.”

Going through their plans for the weekend, the ghost believer, A, has been stressing about the location of their search. Their partner, B, tends to make fun of A for their beliefs. B doesn’t believe that ghosts are real. They also don’t believe in anything that falls under the supernatural or the paranormal.

“So A, are you ready for this adventure? I can’t wait to see you get scared shitless. Do you honestly think that what you have seen can explain the existence of ghosts? What exactly have you seen?”

“I hate when you tease me like that. I have the evidence for myself and reason for my beliefs. Okay?”

“…”

“A, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want to hear that. I know what I saw. Ghosts are here, they might not always make themselves present but they are still watching us. So, let’s just get to the hotel and get everything unpacked.”

They remained silent as they unloaded their luggage from their SUV. The thuds of the luggage hitting the concrete floor, a squeak of the wheels at the bottom meet with the ground. Gripping the handle of the bag, B takes it to the front desk, A walks close behind. A takes out their phone and gets them signed in at the front desk. The clinking of the keys fills the echoing silence of the hotel as both A and B go to the elevator. B presses the arrow up, waiting for the doors to slide open. Reaching over to rest their hand on A’s shoulder.

“Hey, can we talk? I knew that you were a firm ghost believer but you’ve never told me why that is. You must have seen them, or am I wrong in thinking that?”

A moves their gaze to B and sighs. Moving away from B, leaning against one of the elevator walls.

“Well, I believe in ghosts because I saw my abuela.”

“Your grandma?”

A nods their head and then crosses their arms over their chest. The elevator dings as it stops at their floor, taking their luggage out with them as they exit. A doesn’t say more. They would prefer to continue this conversation in their hotel room. Alone. B takes their room key, inserts it into the keyhole. Opening the door, keeping the door open for their partner. Entering their room, both A and B start to unpack their suitcases and other personal bags. The smell of the peeling wallpaper, almost like glue, the faded colors of said wallpaper. The furniture was also older, there were several rips in the couch and scratches on the coffee table. A goes to the other side of the room, stepping into the bathroom. The small bottles of shampoo, conditioner and the individually wrapped hand soap on the rim of the sink. B steps over to the bathroom, leaning against the door frame.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

A looks at B, their eyes connecting to the others. Moving in closer, A grabs B’s hand, squeezing it tightly.

“Yeah. Maybe then you’ll stop teasing me about this.”

B chuckles and nods, squeezing their hand back. They both walk over to the couch and the coffee table. Taking a seat next to each other, then A takes in a deep breath and then lets it out before they start their anecdote.

“This happened years ago. I was in high school when I saw my abuela’s ghost. I was coming home from school, my parents weren’t home. Both working parents, as you know. I came home and I noticed that my abuela was there. She was sitting on the living room couch, watching her novelas. She greeted me as she did, kissing my cheek. She said that she finished cooking for the night and was taking a break. I sat at the kitchen table and started to work on my homework. A few hours passed, I finished my homework and my abuela was still on the couch. I started to get a bit sleepy, I then walked over to my bedroom and lay down. I hear my abuela get up and tuck me in. I remember her warm smile, then she kissed my forehead. She said that she loved me and that she would call me when my parents got home.”

B listens to them but their eyebrows start to raise. They move their hand to A’s back, gently rubbing their back, acting as a sign of reassurance. Wanting to provide some kind of comfort as their significant other recounts the past.

“When did you find out that she was a ghost?”

There was a brief pause before A continued.

“My parents came home from work. I was woken up by my mother. I sat up and looked around the house. I didn’t see my abuela anymore. I asked my mom where she was. Her eyes visibly widened, with an expression of shock painting her face. She told me that my abuela was in an accident earlier that day, she was in a really bad car crash. She was gone. But I saw her. I talked with her, she was watching tv. I couldn’t have been going crazy.”

A looks at their hands and sighs a bit. B was a bit shocked to learn about this. Moving their hands and gently cups their partner’s face.

“I’m sorry for teasing you about this for the longest time. I wouldn’t have done so if I knew that.”

“I can’t blame you. I don’t really tell people. What I told you isn’t a way to sway you into believing in the paranormal.”

“Its okay, this just lets me know that I shouldn’t have as much doubt about them as I have. I believe in them.”

A chuckles and leans into B’s hands, a smirk appears on their face while B sighs.

“To a degree.”

A sighs then moves to rest their head on B's shoulder, taking in that spoken memory. That was one of the last times they saw their abuela. One of B's hands moves to gently soothe A by rubbing their hand on A's back. Then slowly pulls A into their arms, turning this into a warm embrace. Silence. Seconds passed…then it turned into minutes.

"I…miss her. I wish I could see her…I mean…speak with her. Ask her for her advice."

"I know. But why are we going to the place of her accident? Why there?"

A stays mute, then opens their mouth to speak.

"That's where she died. The last place where her soul was-"

"A…darling. Her soul was with you. How could this town….that road be her last place on earth? You said that you spoke to her. Not saying that I've switched sides but…her soul or what you saw that night…was her soul…seeing you. Before she went to the afterlife or the void or whatever happens to us after death. She wanted to make sure you were taken care of."

A listens to B, their eyes steady a bit but then they close their eyes.

"Do we still go?"

After a few moments of thinking about what to do, A looks to B. Then they spoke.

[jack-in-the-dark]

Jack Builds Spaceboats: The Bannockburn, Part 1

Disclaimer: I am by no means an expert at this game and the information I present may be erroneous.

Hey, remember like two months ago when I gushed about the Typhoon-class STO was giving away as an event reward?

We're going to talk about that now.

So this ship came at a very fortuitous time for me. One of my captains, who was flying a Shepard-class battlecruiser, was starting to feel a little stale and needed a change. No disrespect to one of the greatest frames in the game, mind you, it was a style thing.

I wanted to give her another battlecruiser, something with a strong Starfleet feel to it. Trouble was, the pickings on that front were (and still are, admittedly) pretty slim. None of the Zen store ships were sparking interest, and none of the trading market ships seemed worth the seventeen and a half bitches it would take to get them (plus, all things considered, I would rather save up). So I was kind of languishing a bit about it.

Then Cryptic announced the Typhoon event, and lo it was good. As much as I find Temporal Ops seating to be abysmal, I can make just about any build work and no one's twisting my arm and forcing me to use the Temp Ops crap.

On paper, the Typhoon is quite a little firebrand. 5/3 weapons layout, Temporal Ops primary seating (while I personally dislike it, I cannot deny its potency), Command secondary with an LtC seat, decent turn rate for a ship her size, four engineering and four tactical consoles offering quite the flexible loadout, and some reasonably durable stats.

Full Temp Op specialization gives the frame access to the ability Recursive Shearing III, which is just a powerhouse of an ability. When activated, for five seconds it "stores" hull damage dealt to the target, and every second it re-applies that damage as a shield and resistance bypassing DOT effect (as well as adding two stacks of Entropy to the target). The LtC Command seat, as I've mentioned previously, gives access to the ability Concentrate Firepower III.

I think you see where this is going.

Yup, she makes a hell of a torpedo boat. That's not really what I did with her, though. As we'll discuss later, the Bannockburn shares much of its capabilities with a ship I've already discussed at length: the Hyperion.

[leonsdolly]

Hey gorg im canto v superfan anonnnnnnn

It's my birthday in like 25 min, and I NEED a drabble, an idea, a sentence, or even half a word with ID Leon (since I'm getting my ID and all + he's my fav Leon) with the theme birthday. Like anything angst, fluff, smut.

Thank youuuuuu

(P.S. met this guy today who is quite literally RE4 Leon, who's btw 1 year, 25 hours, and 15 min older than me. Obviously, I counted. Like his birthday is tomorrow too! And get this, like an hour or two before I met him. I saw one of those couple locks with mine and HIS initial. Please, is this a sign or whatttt?????)

OMG HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY FIRST OF AWLLL <3 hope it was gr8 with lots of cake <3

UM i have to ask WHERE y'all are finding these leon lookalikes 🔊 i think the universe is giving you a lil nudge if you're essentially birthday twins + seeing your initials together in romantic settings 👁️

hmm, here are some hcs of what ID leon would do for your birthday !!

ID!Leon's primary goal is to make you feel like the most special person in the world on your birthday (well all days really, but especially today!). From the second his eyes open in the morning, he's all over you, peppering your face in kisses and draping his frame over yours. You're literally like can't I just sleep in on my birthday 😠 why are you waking me up !!! He feels kinda bad, but he just wants to shower you in all the love and affection he has ! If for some reason he's not with you on your birthday morning, like away on a mission or something, he's sending you a happy birthday text at exactly midnight with that inflatable heart effect on imessage 😭

He does little acts of services for you throughout the day. You really don't have to lift a finger, he's getting you water, tying your shoes for you, making your coffee, etc. He understands that you have friends and family who may want to celebrate your birthday with you as well so he sort of fades into the background when they come over and fawn over you. He knows he has designated time with you later when it's just you two. He still comes over and wraps his arms around you from behind in a backhug from time to time tho!

He's really big on treating you, so he'll take you out to a restaurant you've always wanted to try - doesn't matter how exclusive it is or how long the waitlist is, he's preplanned everything so that you're able to be seated the second you waltz in the door. He wears a suit that makes you all grabby towards him and he lets you <3 You're wearing a new dress that he buys you, and it fits oh so perfectly cuz he just knows what you like !

Overall, he's very attentive and focuses on what you would want or like. Like he's the type to remember stuff you'll offhandedly mention throughout the year and then surprise you with it on your special day <3 He knows what kind of celebration style you prefer - whether it's something fancy or more lowkey, if it's just going to be the two of you or not, etc. ID! Leon's at that point in his life where he's like hey, I met this person and they're the most important thing to me in this world, and I need to do everything in my power to make them feel that ‼️

[mitchellpete]

Be My Angel

summary: Maverick is drunk and in love with you. You’re the only person Goose trusts to care for him. Mav just wants to finally be close to you.

pairing: pete “maverick” mitchell x f!reader

tags/warnings(?): mav is really drunk, goose playing matchmaker, friends to lovers, mav finally flirting with you, slightly suggestive bit, sexual tension if you squint?, one (1) gendered term which is why i went with f!r [gn everywhere else]

word count: 3.2k

A/N: titled after the song be my angel by mazzy star! request guidelines here. ツ❤

-

If there’s anything you’ve gotten used to since moving to San Diego, it’s definitely the sound of the waves outside your window. They’re especially loud at night, but you’ve discovered some comfort in the thunderous crashes and the way they lull you to sleep every night. It’s like that now; your eyes droop with sleep but you’re determined to get through a few more quick chapters of the book you’ve been dying to finish for the past month. Curled up on your couch, you disregard the noise, letting it blur and sink to the back of your mind as your eyes move along the pages.

Despite your eyes begging for rest, you manage to finish one chapter and then suddenly you think of your bed and how warm and cozy it must be right now. You think about the wind outside, how in the morning it’ll still be a bit breezy but you’ll be able to sleep in and stay warm under the covers. You close your book, eager to sink into your mattress but the thought halts the second you set it aside, something suddenly off about the usual noise from outside.

Waves, wind, somebody talking.

A car door slamming.

It’s just past midnight and somebody’s outside. Your eyes widen at the realization, your guard going up.

Tip-toeing to the window, you suck in a breath and carefully pry one of the bottom blinds open, peering out at the noise. Your eyes light up at the sight of Goose’s Bronco, but then you’re confused as you watch him fumble with something in the passenger seat. His back to you, you squint at the sight of his lanky frame bent over the lowered window, and when he finally moves to get the door open, you realize he isn’t alone.

You watch as he helps Maverick off his car, the shorter man’s arm awkwardly around his best friend’s neck as he staggers towards the steps to your porch.

Is there something wrong with him?

You let go of your blinds, nearly tripping as you rush to the door. Swinging it open, the cool wind immediately nips your skin as they both look up; Maverick looks hazy.. a faint, crooked smile on his face, and Goose is just relieved to see you.

“Oh, hey, you.” He flashes you a cheeky grin. “Can you believe he couldn’t get his own seatbelt off just now?”

Mav looks dumbfounded as he looks at you, and, with a slightly hoarse voice, says, “Hey.”

He’s drunk.

A gentle laugh escapes you. “You guys scared me.”

“Sorry. I know it’s late,” Goose says, his free hand scratching the back of his head as the other holds onto Mav’s shoulder. “..D’ya mind if I leave him here tonight? I’ll make it up to you.”

“I don’t mind,” you mumble, a smile tugging at your lips as warmth envelops your cheeks.

Goose happens to notice and cocks an eyebrow, but his playful smile remains. “He kept mentioning you at the bar—” he says, guiding Mav up the four steps to your deck. Mav is on his left side, the side closest to you, and his lazy smile gets a tad bit wider at the sight of you suddenly so near him. “—and then I remembered he likes your couch.”

Your smile widens this time.

It’s not the first time Goose drops Maverick off at your door late at night, and it’s certainly not the first time he hints at Maverick’s very obvious crush on you. 

You think back to the look on Mav’s face the first time Goose cracked a joke—a few weeks prior at the bar, the night he'd decided to bring his polaroid camera. You’d brought a friend from school, and you remember giggling with them when Goose demanded to take your picture after a couple of drinks. With your friend on one side and Mav on the other, you posed happily, only to snicker like little kids when someone bumped into the photographer, seemingly ruining the picture. You remember Goose turning to yell asshole! at the passerby, but then smiling at the sight of the polaroid. It was a bit blurry, but it’d managed to capture your laugh and Mav looking absolutely captivated next to you. 

It’d been Goose’s turn to snicker. “It’s perfect. Mav’ll wanna hang it up in his locker so he can finally look at you all day.”

What seemed like one of Goose’s nonchalant jokes instantly turned Mav’s face bright red. 

You thought you’d known Mav pretty well by then, but there never came a witty reply and he didn’t glance your way for the rest of the night. You were confused. Did he really like you? And if he did.. was he embarrassed about it? He could get anybody he wanted—he certainly had the charm and experience for it… yet there he had been beside you, avoiding your eyes as if unsure of himself. It was the first time you’d seen him like that.

A few nights later came the second time. He had been drunk then too—not as badly as tonight, you thought—but Goose’s son had gotten sick in the middle of the night, and your house was a faster drive from the bar. Mav had spoken to you about his father, his eyes glossy, and then ended up curled up on your couch. 

Looking at him tonight, your eyes soften. “Wanna come in?”

He nods and you lead him inside, but remain by the door.

Goose steps forward and leans an arm against your doorframe, a mischievous look on his face as Mav wanders into your home. The stupid smile on Mav’s face makes Goose snicker, and you’re playfully shaking your head at the both of them.

“If you could just let him crash on your couch,” he says, his hand coming up to softly pat your cheek. “I’d appreciate it.” You cock your eyebrow at him as his hand drops, and suddenly his eyes widen, hands going up in defense. “Not playing matchmaker this time,” he insists, glancing at Mav over your shoulder. “He really is drunk.. and I know he’ll be safe here tonight.”

You laugh. “You’re protective of him. It’s cute.”

“Yeah, well..” He shrugs, and then looks straight into your eyes. “I know him too well. Know what’s good for him.”

You can’t help yourself. “And you mean.. me?” 

Goose thinks for a second. “I mean.. you’re the first person he likes that I’ve ever seen him get nervous around,” he says. “He must really like you if he’s not trying to—”

“GOOSE!” Mav’s sudden yell from inside makes the both of you flinch.

“Yeah, buddy?” Goose’s face is instantly wiped with innocence, his eyebrows raised and his lips sucked in.

A short pause. “...My—where's my bike?”

Goose turns to you, his voice hushed. “Already went through this with him. Just tell him I took care of it.” He starts taking a few steps back. “I gotta go. I miss my wife.”

You nod, suddenly remembering how cold you’d gotten. “..‘Night Nick. Say hi to Carole for me!”

You watch as he jogs back to his car—“Will do!”—before you step back into the comfort of your home—a hand on the door as you wait to see him drive off. 

The waves seem to be quieter the second you’re alone with Maverick. All you hear is his incoherent mumbling coming from the living room, and you start to wonder how much he could have possibly drank. 

He’s standing in front of the wall, squinting at your picture frames. Exhaling, you walk past him to gather the book you’d left there, and the glass of water you’d had on the coffee table. You refill it in the kitchen and add a straw, and he turns to look at you when he hears your steps again.

“Here, Pete. You need to drink water.”

He looks at the glass, and then back at you. You realize he should probably sit when he starts to take it. 

“Wait—” you stop him. “Can you sit? Couch is right there.” You place a hand on the TomCat patch on his arm, gently nudging him towards it.

He doesn’t stumble, but his steps are awkward as he walks. A smirk paints his face when he sits back against the cushions. “You’re taking care of me?”

You offer him the glass. “Well.. you’re drunk again.” 

He’s staring at it again before he takes it. “..‘m not that drunk.”

“You’re not?”

He shakes his head. “Goose j–..just thinks he’s funny,” he says matter-of-factly, sticking the straw in his mouth. 

You giggle at him. “You don’t think Goose is funny?”

“Nope.”

You watch him as he sips and he looks.. almost delicate. His cheeks are tinted pink, and his eyes, despite looking heavy on his lids, seem bigger and rounder than usual. His lips look wet and puffy when they let go of the straw, and you swallow hard at the sudden thought of kissing him. What it would feel like.

God, you wanna kiss him so bad right now.

You shake your thoughts with a tired sigh as you reach for the glass. “Give it to me,” you tell him softly and he hands it to you. “Let me take your boots off.”

You have to move the coffee table just a bit for room, and after placing the glass on it, you sink to your knees beside his legs. Maverick just watches as you lift the bottom of his Levi’s, your hands gentle as you scoot the material up past his boot. When your fingers reach his skin, it’s almost like he flinches, and then suddenly he’s unable to sit still, his legs fidgeting as you wrap a hand around the back of his heel. The boots are a snug fit—you wonder if his feet ever get tired of them. You pull, but the boot doesn’t budge. Maybe it’s the angle, you think. Maverick’s still watching, his two front teeth visible from his slightly opened mouth. You’re smiling as you tug again, but his boot refuses to come off. It’s definitely the angle, so you move.

You’re in between his legs now.

And he’s fidgeting even more.

“Pete, can you.. try pulling your foot out as I tug your boot forward?” you wonder, hand around the back of his heel again. 

He gives you a faint nod. So you tug again, and though the boot still doesn’t come off, it does move. 

“C’mon, Pete, just a little more. Just pull your foot out.”

He suddenly thinks it’s funny; a smile spreads on his lips and he starts giggling. If he wasn’t so cute, you’d almost get impatient. 

It takes two more tugs to finally get the boot off, and you take a quick second to regain your strength. He watches as you hold the boot in your hand, inspecting the design for the first time, and his breath visibly catches in his throat when you finally set it aside and look up at him. 

“Same thing for the other one, okay?”

He’s fidgeting again, his lips suddenly dry. You watch his fingers grasp around a loose part of the material of his jeans on his upper thigh, and he squeezes. “Y–.. you look so pretty.. right there.”

Oh.

Warmth fills your cheeks again, and you have to look away. You hope he doesn’t notice how flustered you’ve suddenly become, but then again you don’t think he’s in any condition to tell.

“You think so?” You try to act nonchalant as you grab his other boot, your stomach doing flips.

“Mmhm.” 

A big tug. He’s distracted, still just looking at you, and the boot doesn’t move. “Remember to pull your foot out,” you remind him.

The second tug gets it out. 

He said you looked pretty… right there.

Cheeks still warm, a smile tugs at your lips as you gather both boots and set them by the coffee table. Maverick’s eyes never leave your frame, even as he reaches for the glass of water again.

“Wait, actually.” You stop him. “Take your jacket off.”

Dropping his arms, he’s giggling again, and your knees go weak at the crinkles that form beside his eyes. “Yes… ma’am.” He leans forward as he reaches for the back of the jacket. Trying not to laugh, you watch as he pulls the end of it, even with his arms still in the sleeves. Oh, he can’t possibly be this drunk.

When his method doesn’t seem to work, he leans back again and shrugs, a teasing glint in his eye. With a dramatic sigh, he mumbles, “I.. can’tgetmyjacketoff.”

You realize what he’s doing, and you can’t help but let him.

“Let me see.” You playfully roll your eyes as he grins at your response, and he scoots forward again. He looks almost excited for you to touch him—his eyes follow your hands as one reaches inside and the other grips the end of his sleeve. Grabbing his tricep, you pull his arm out of the sleeve, and you swear your face starts to hurt from how wide you’ve been smiling at his absurdity. You grab the now empty sleeve and easily (but gently) pull off the rest, revealing his usual white tee. 

You hope his jeans aren’t too uncomfortable to leave on. You consider joking that he should bring some of his sleepwear next time, but only bite your lip as he grabs the glass again for more water. His mouth easily finds the straw, and you’re staring at his lips again. 

He starts sipping, his lips stretched into a smile as he stares back. 

Your thumb smoothes over the material of the jacket. 

There’s a small, nearly empty closet in the living room, and you decide to hang his jacket in there. Mav’s straw is making noise now that he’s nearly finished with his water. You wonder if he’s tired; you’d forgotten how heavy your eyes had felt earlier. Closing the closet, you move to the one in the hallway to retrieve a blanket for him—the same one you’d given him the last time he was here. He suddenly pops up behind you, quietly somehow, and slurs something about needing to use the bathroom.

Stepping aside, you let him stagger down the hall.

“You need help in there too?” you tease.

He reaches the door and swings it open, his hand slapping against the wall to look for a light switch. “Yeah.” 

Chuckling in amusement, you retrieve the blanket and move back to the living room. 

The light switch clicks on after a couple of seconds, and you focus on moving the cushions around so that he’s comfortable when he returns. The scent of his cologne lingers where he’d been sitting, and you silently hope it remains even after he leaves tomorrow. You lay the blanket over where he’d lay, and then run past the slightly cracked open bathroom door to your room for the spare pillow you had. You’re setting it at the head of the couch when he makes it back.

He looks cute in just his socks. His hair is somehow a bit disheveled—you assume he ran a hand through it, and his eyes are red now. He’s obviously exhausted.

You pat the couch. “Lay. You need to rest so you can feel better quicker tomorrow.”

He listens, his face still flushed, and you give him room to lay down. “Can I get a g’night kiss?” he mumbles as he passes you, and your face feels hot again. 

Trying not to make a fool of yourself, you rush to the kitchen to refill his glass of water, and when you return he’s plopped himself down on his back, on top of the blanket.

“You need to sleep on your side, okay?” you tell him, gently pulling the blanket out from underneath his legs, and then over them. 

He seems nearly out of it now, but nods faintly again. When he switches positions, his eyes are closed but he buries his nose into the pillow and breathes in. You decide to be brave and lean in to kiss his cheek. Just because he asked. 

His skin is warm against your lips and his scent fills your nostrils, and you almost wanna give him a second one. His eyes are still closed, however, and you step back to let him finally rest. Gathering a few of your things to head to bed, you stare at his face. You’re glad he’s relaxed.

Just as you begin to walk out, he stops you. 

“Pillow smells like you,” he murmurs, and his eyes open again after a few seconds. He buries his nose into the pillow again, and then lifts his head just a bit, proceeding to say something completely incoherent. 

“What?”

For a split second, you see a twinge of sadness in his eyes. 

It’s the third time you've seen that look.

And then he says it so clearly: “Stay with me.” 

You blink. “Stay with you here?”

He nods, and then pats the couch. “J–st.. here.” He rests his head back on the pillow, his voice quiet. “I.. wannabewithyou.”

You could cry. You nearly do as he closes his eyes once more, and then you’re thinking of his lips again. Why you hadn’t thrown yourself at him before tonight was beyond you. You think of what Goose had said earlier—nobody had ever made Mav nervous the way you do. Maybe, just maybe.. you had been subconsciously convincing yourself that it was too good to be true. And you’re suddenly so glad he got shitfaced tonight.

“Mav?” The nickname feels a little more personal; you speak it softly.

He opens his eyes. 

“C’mon,” you say, your tone still gentle. “Come sleep with me.”

“Hm?”

You walk over, his eyes looking up at you as you extend your hand for him to take. “In my room. Couch isn’t big enough for the both of us.”

Though the exhaustion is still visible on his face, he suddenly smiles, taking your hand. His palm feels soft, just like his cheek did, and you can’t wait to feel the rest of him. Sleepily, he grabs the pillow and follows as you lead him down the hall and into your room.

He stands there for a moment as you fix the bed, making it as comfortable as possible the way you did the couch.

“You.. gave me a kiss,” he states, looking dumbfounded again.

“Mmhm.” 

You crawl onto your mattress, kneeling towards the end of it to reach his hand. He lets you pull him close to you, and you give him a peck on the lips. A goodnight kiss.

He leans in for a second one.

All of him is softer than you ever imagined. Maverick instantly wraps his arms around you the second you get him into your bed, his strong arms firmly around your waist. Your back to his chest, you lean your head back into the crook of his shoulder, and you feel him press his face into your hair, breathing in again. It’s the most you’ve ever touched each other, but somehow it feels natural.

Moonlight seeps in through the window, blanketing over the both of you. You suddenly hear the waves again, and place a hand on his arm.

“You know I like you too, right?”

He doesn’t respond for a few seconds. It’s sinking in, maybe? 

He sniffs. “I like you more.”

You’re laughing again.

[no-nameno-face]

Auburn Thoughts (Pt.2)

Pairing: Reader x Ellie Williams

Summary:  When plans to meet up go awry, you flee. Unsure of your feelings, and convinced they are one sided, you are contacted by an old friend. You decide to do something out of character. Anything to get your mind off of her.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, Minors do not interact. Jealousy, Angst, Alcohol, Drinking, Alcohol Abuse, Smoking Weed, vague mentions of SA, creepy guy, Anxiety (please let me know if there's any I forgot)

Author's Notes: Jealous Ellie!! Jealous Reader!! Protective Ellie!! I'm obsessed. I love jealous Ellie with my whole heart. Actively reminding myself to take this story slow… anyways I'm very excited to see where this story goes. hope you enjoy this chapter :) 

Part 1

Part 3 (With Audio)

______________________________________________________________

Back at my dorm, I find myself doodling the image of her bitten lips. Auburn thoughts.

______________________________________________________________

I wake up the next morning, tired. I stayed up too late again. Drawing. I stretch my arms above my head and squint my eyes at the light coming through my windows. Class. I have class. My brain talks but my body does not move. I’m so tired. I reach over and grab my phone, checking the time. I bolt up in my bed. Fuck, I'm going to be so late. 

I  rush to my closet and pull on a light green oversized sweatshirt I thrifted forever ago, and throw on some light wash jeans. They have light paint splatters on them but honestly most of my clothes do. Shoving socks on my feet I slip them into my white tennis shoes. On my way out I stop in the mirror and assess the damage. Bed head and bags under my eyes. I grab a hair tie and rushedly pull it up into a messy high ponytail. I poke the dark circles under my exhausted eyes but decide there's nothing I can do in the time I have, so I head out the door, turning off the lights and locking it behind me.

Sitting in my second class of the day I remember my evening plans. Suddenly I wish I had gotten a bit more ready. After class is over I rush to the bathroom and splash cold water on my face, hoping it would bring down some of the puffiness that my restless night lended me. I look at my reflection. “Fuck,” I say under my breath as I lean on the counter looking down at the running water. What is this? Don’t think too much about it. I look at myself and practice a smile, turning my face to observe. My face drops. “Shit. What is wrong with me?” I turn the faucet off and walk out of the bathroom, to my next class.

4:30, I’m early. That's okay, god knows my project could use some work. I put my headphones in and tuck my knee up to my chest resuming the apple from yesterday. I find myself checking the time regularly, and it feels like it's passing abnormally slow. 

The door opens and I turn expecting to see Ellie, but another girl walks in. I recognize her from the halls. Slender and feminine, pretty features and short dark hair. Striking honestly, especially in comparison to my drained appearance. A subtle shade of insecurity settles over me. I overlook it. She must be in a different class time than Ellie and I. Turning back to my work she sits a couple seats to the left of me. She doesn't acknowledge me, I don't think much about it. People in the art department tend to be more introverted, so this is a typical encounter. 

Shortly after resuming my work the door opens again, I turn. Green eyes. Wearing a thick flannel, jeans, and her same old sneakers. Her hair is half down today, the other half in a bun. Loose strands framing her face. I notice her freckles a bit extra today, small constellations littering her cheeks.  I smile and she returns it.

“So you decided to show up!” I say, turning back to my canvas a bit flushed.

“What? Did you think I was gonna stand you up or some shit?” she says with a smile in her voice as she makes her way to you. 

“Hey you never kn-” 

“Ellie!” A voice cuts me off. “I didn't know you were coming today!” I look to the girl sitting on my left, she's craned her head around to face Ellie beaming at her. 

“Oh!” she sounded startled. “Hi Cat.” Ellie says with a courteous smile that doesn't meet her eyes. The girl gets up and basically prances up to her, wrapping her arms around Ellies neck. Ellie's eyes meet mine as I dart back to my work. Staring past my canvas. I'm face to face with an unfamiliar pit in my stomach. I try not to listen to their conversation, my heartbeat building in my ears is loud enough to drone most of it out. Most of it. 

“It's been so long,” Cat…

“You're normally not here this late” Ellie…

“Yeah, I’ll have to start coming more often!” Cat..

Heartbeat thudding. 

“Well you should call me later! We could catch dinner when you're done here.” I feel eyes on me. “Catch up a bit.” Cat…

Louder pulsing in my ears.

Next thing I hear is the seat to my right creaks and snaps me out of it. I glance over at Ellie and can't get out of my head fast enough to say anything. I look back to my painting. She looks at me, then my painting. 

“It looks good.” Her voice comes out awkward. I notice her fidgeting with her hands. 

“Thanks.” I say without looking her way. 

“Umm, well should i grab my stuff?” she suggests.

“Actually, I didn't sleep well last night.” I say looking down at my hands in my lap. Gripping each other to keep from shaking. What is wrong with me? “I'm pretty tired.” I glimpse at her quickly then back to my hands. “I’m gonna head out.” I say standing up and start walking to the sink to rinse my brushes. Ellie gets up and tries to follow me but is stopped by Cat. Cat. 

“You can hang with me El’s,” a pang in my gut at the familiarity in the nickname. “I've got another 30 minutes or so of work to do here!” her voice reignites the thudding. All I hear is mumbles behind my own spiraling thoughts. I wash my brushes fast and carelessly, then load them, still wet, into my case. I haul my canvas away and walk out the door. I walk fast down the halls, my throat feels dry, my chest feels tight. My eyes feel prickly. I hit the wall of cold air past the front doors. What the fuck. I take a gasp of the icy air. Then head in the direction of my dorm. Heartbeat heavy.

______________________________________________________________

My phone rings. I lay on my bed staring into the ceiling. Seeing arms around her. The ringing stops. Then it starts again. I groan and reach my arm over to grab it. Chloe, my friend  who I'd rather neglected over the past art filled days. I put my phone to my ear,

“Hey chlo.”

“Hey bitch. Where the fuck have you been?” I smile at her voice, rubbing the back of my neck.

“I have this gnarly realism project in my painting class. It's taking all of the little mental capacity I have” I say, mind on Ellie. Ellie and Cat. my smile fades.

“Oh, yeah. That's shit. Well it's Saturday, and since you owe me for being MIA, you are coming out with me tonight.” To be honest, a drink sounded pretty nice right now.

“Sure, what time?”

“Wait really? You’re down?”

“Yeah, I could use a distraction.” From her.

“Period! I'll pick you up at 9! We are going for… slutty chic.” I smile down at my legs. 

“We’ll see.”

“I swear to god if you don't dress up im gonna-”

“Bye Chlo! See you at 9!” I say with a forced laugh, hanging up the phone. I throw myself back on the bed and lay there for a moment before I finally force myself to sit up and make my way to my closet. 

______________________________________________________________

[here!] My phone dings. I take one last look in my mirror, evaluating. A fitted black racer-back cropped to my upper stomach, a large key hole at the neck exposing some of my cleavage, I pull it up a bit self consciously. My skirt, a matching set to the top sits a couple inches beneath, exposing a sliver of my stomach. The fitted black skirt ends before my resting hands do. I tug at it, too short. I grab a cropped fluffy black jacket from the rack behind me and slouch it over my shoulders, then I’m bending over to pull on some black heels over my dark tights. Looking back to my reflection I look taller, elongated. 

I lean in and double check my makeup. A soft smokey eye, with a thin line of dark eyeliner. Blush and highlighter shape my nose a bit more than normal. My eyes shift to my hair, slicked back in a high ponytail, I lean my head to the side grabbing my pony and pulling it over my shoulder sighing at my reflection before I grab my black bag and head out to Chloe's car. 

I hear her before I see her, music blaring. She's applying lip gloss in her visor mirror. I climb into the passenger seat, holding my skirt down while I do so. She glances at me, “Oh my god. you look so hot.” she says, eyes boggling jokingly at me.

“Oh shut up,” I roll my eyes at her reaching my hand out to borrow her gloss, she hands it over and I apply it in the mirror of my visor just like she had done. 

The drive consists of her updating me on her sexual escapades. I smile, laugh, and gasp at her stories as we wind through the streets. This girl is wild. God, I love her. 

We pull up to a house and try to find parking among the cars lining the street. Finally finding an empty spot, she does her best attempt at parallel parking. I laugh at her focused face and multiple failed attempts. She tells me to fuck off. 

Walking up to the house We pass a group of guys, they eye us up grinning. Chloe smiles at them, I cross my arms across my chest and look at the pathway to the front door. As we get closer the music pounds in my ears getting louder until we are inside. There's a lot of people here, energy pulsing through the thick air. I feel a bit overwhelmed. Chloe, reading my face, grabs my hands.

“Drinks!” she exclaimes with a wide warm smile. Her blonde hair bouncing behind her as she turned and pulled me by the hand to a table in the living room. She pours us a shot of something clear, tapping our glasses together then on the table. The liquor going down my throat is warm and stinging. We cringe at each other and laugh at our sour faces. After another shot, this time a bit easier, I pour myself a mixed drink and sip it to get the taste out of my mouth. It's not much better, too strong, but I sip away at it. 

Chloe has drifted to the kitchen, giving eyes to some guy. I watch her touch his shoulder laughing at something he said and I smile at my now empty drink. Man, she's got game. I can feel the heat in my cheeks as the drink combines with the body heat of all these strangers. It's nice. For a moment I didnt even think about her.

Fuck.

Smile gone, I sigh and walk to the drink table, a bit wobblier than when I arrived, pouring myself another tall glass.  Maybe another drink will get the images of her out of my head. I sip at my new concoction, barely tasting it as I stumble to find a bathroom. I knock. Met with no response, I walk in and lock the door behind me. I look in the mirror and my hooded eyes look back at me. I smile at myself. I do look pretty good, I thought. I turn on the tap and run cold water over my hands, I indulge in the drunken sensation of it. 

I head back out into the crowded hall, people scattered along the wells leaning, chatting, even a couple messily making out. I subtly blanch at the boldness of it. Walking past them, eyes drifting over strangers, observing. Suddenly my eyes freeze, locked onto green. No , no, no. An exhale deepens her chest releasing a large puff of smoke from her lips. Her lips. She's sat with knees up on the couch, leaning against the arm. A blunt resting in between her fingers. Her eyes are locked on me, a look of shock shining over her already glazed eyes. Her eyes wander down my body, evaluating my every detail. Her brows furrowed a bit and I swear I saw her chew the inside of her cheek, before her eyes snaped back to mine. My eyes shift to the girl on the couch next to her. Short dark hair. My eyes trace her hand resting on Ellie’s thigh. My stomach twists. I turn sharply and walk to the kitchen, seeing everything through a tinge of green. 

I approach Chloe. She smiles at me and asks how I'm feeling. “Drunk” I respond with a small empty smile. 

“Drunk enough to dance?” she asks. Not sure if it was the liquid courage or a vengeful spirit possessing my body, I put my cup to my lips, downing the drink. I grabbed her hand and led her to the living room. Spinning her to face me, we begin swaying quickly to the beat of the music in the mass of dancing people. My hands skim up the curves of my body as we smile at each other. I tilt my head back and close my eyes, Ellie is in the darkness behind my eyelids. Then my hands are on Chloes waist turning her against me, we dance together. She’s pressed against me, my hands following the rhythm of her hips. When the song ends and transitions to another she laughs drunkenly, turning back to me and locking her hands around my neck.

“Okay, keep dancing.” I obliged. “See that guy behind me. Dark hair, tall. Definitely looking at my ass.” She looks at me with a smirk. I scan the faces in the kitchen, and locate the guy she's talking about. He was indeed staring at her ass. “Im gonna fuck him tonight. I bet you a million dollars.” 

“That's a losing horse man, I see how he's looking at you, I'm not taking those odds.” I laugh at her, shifting my eyes as we sway together, my hands resting on her waist. Images begin blurring together, until my vision locks in on the girl leaning against the entryway. Arms crossed against her chest, one hand holding her still lit blunt. Eyes pinned to mine. Darkened green. The haze of people seems to blur around her. I see her suck against her teeth, she doesn't look away. I hold her gaze while I turn and begin dancing on Chloe, now her hands roam my waist. I watch as Ellie takes a long drag. Ellie. Chloe laughs into my neck.

“Jeez. you're putting on a show! Who are you performing for?” she says over the music scanning the crowd. My eyes are on green. I feel my face flush as I see Ellie turn on her heels and head back into the hall. Could she hear us? I turn back to Chloe.

“I'm gonna take a breather.” I say with a smile. She boos me as I walk away into the kitchen, “you're up,” I nod to the guy eyeing her. He heads her way. My vision sways, and I lean against the counter. I drop my head, I feel heavy. My body feels all the gravity of the world at this moment. What the fuck did I just do.

I stand up. Turning to walk to the bathroom, suddenly too drunk. I take staggered steps down the hall, my eyes looking over the couch, once occupied. Now only the black haired girl sat there chatting with someone, I didn't care enough to see who. She probably left, my thoughts told me. Not sure if I was reassured or upset by the idea. I stumble into the door. It sways open and I follow its momentum until my hips hit the counter and my hands fall next to the sink. I look at them.

Click.

My head shot up in the mirror, Ellie was leaning against the door watching my reflection.

“Your friend’s right, that was quite the show.” she says in a dry voice, looking at me emotionless. 

“Where's your girlfriend?” My voice slurs at her, a bit harsher than I intended. The wrinkle between her brows deepen at this. 

“Is that what this is over,”  she said, rolling her blood shot eyes to the ceiling. I turn to her, leaning back against the counter. 

“This isn't over anything.” I know I'm lying. I wonder if she does too. What's your problem?” I say through squinted eyes.

“My problem?”

“Yeah, whats your fucking deal? Looking at me like that, with your girl basically on your lap.” I was too far into my drinking to be shocked by my bluntness. My green was showing. I didn't have enough sense to care. Her eyes were dark. 

“She's not my girl.”

“Okay,” I  let out a mean laugh looking up, then back to her. “Sure.” 

She steps towards me, my breath catches in my throat. “What about your girl?” She scowls at me, “The one you were dancing on,” she looks down to my hands  “touching.” Her  head still angled down but her eyes dart up to meet mine again.  She looks angry. Her eyes stir something in my stomach. This is so unlike that calm and collected sarcastic girl from class.

“What about it?” I say to her with a rude smirk, my tongue poking the inside of my cheek as I glare into her. She stares into me, her eyes drift to my lips, then back to me. Piercing me. I feel myself go pale. “Stop looking at me like that,” my voice is softer than I anticipated. A harsh contrast to my aggressive tone. “I can't handle...” my voice trails off. 

She looks at me for a second, softening the slightest amount. Contemplating. “You’re drunk.” She resigns. “Who's your ride? I think it’s time you head out.” 

“Ellie, im not your fucking responsibility. I can handle myself.” My confidence fluctuates again. I try to pass her to get to the door, stumbling over my own feet. Her hand slams against the door, holding it shut. She turns, keeping her hand on the door. 

“Dont be fucking stupid.” I gape at her. “Don't act like you didn't see all the guys watching you.” I didn't. Honestly. I only saw her. “You go out there like this and your easy fucking picking. Do you know how easy it would be for a guy to..” her voice stops. Her hand on the door squeezes into a fist, white knuckles. “I mean shit you left the door open when you came in here, what if it wasn't me that came in?” Her eyes are angry again, protective. My head pounds realizing she's right. I sigh and look down at my hands now clasped together. My liquid confidence faltered by the reminder of my fragility. 

“Fine.” I say barely above a whisper. Her eyes hesitated on me. Softening a bit more. 

“Come on,” she says, opening the door letting me out first. She trails behind me, an overwhelming presence. I walk to the living room, peering around for Chloe. She's not there. I pull my phone out and squint my eyes to keep the words from blurring together. I finally found her contact and pressed call. I hold it to my ear plugging the other one trying to hear over the music. Sent to voicemail. 

“Fuck,” I mumble under my breath. I press call again. It rings a bit longer this time, then voicemail. I turn to look at Ellie, she's closer than I expected. My heart thuds. I look up slightly to meet her eyes. I'm sure she would have stepped away if it weren't for the people surrounding us. “She's not picking up.” I say looking down to the phone in my hands then back to her. I don't know what to do, I’m nervous, too far gone to have a poker face of any kind. She looks at me with a tinge of concern in her eyes, then scans over the crowd, before redirecting her gaze to me. 

“Okay, follow me. She says as she turns and carves her way through the crowd. I follow behind her watching my feet to make sure I don’t trip when my body thuds against something.

I look up and see a man looking down at me. “Sorry sweetheart.” he smiles a toothy grin at me, scanning down my body as I back away from him.

I go to step around him, mumbling a small “excuse me,” but he steps in my path. 

“Where ya going?” he leans his head down by me, “Can I come with?” he breathes moist air onto me, the smell of alcohol hot on his breath. The sound of blood rushes in my ears. 

Suddenly, a hand on my waist. “Hey man, back the fuck up.” an aggressive voice rings. Eyes jump to see Ellie standing next to me. She's staring at him with narrow eyes, then looks at me. Her eyes are a statement. I got you. I look down to the floor. I feel her hand pulling me with her.

“Woah, dude.” he throws his hands up mockingly. “We were in the middle of something!” He called after us laughing. Her grip on me tightens, and I focus on the feel of it to drown out my anxiety.

Leading me out of the house, we get outside and my distraction disappears as she drops her hand.  Mumbling profanities under her breath, walking fast. I follow behind her and she turns to check I’m still with her. 

“Where are we going?” I ask, trying to keep up with her.

“I'm taking you home.” 

[wannaeatramyeon]

UR WRITING IS LIKE SEROTONIN AHH MORE STUFF LIKE THE URGENT BATHHOUSE MEETING PLS🙏 it was so funny

Me, thinking everything that I say is funny: 🤣😂

Everyone else: 🧍🏻‍♀️

Don't need to read this for continuation, but Part 1 here.

SOS Men of Lookism: Urgent Bathhouse Meeting Part 2

!! Spoilers for latest arc. Massively breaking the fourth wall. Part 3

Another call for a meeting in as many months.

Samuel's lip curls as he reads the invitation. He doesn't remember the rest of the men being so needy.

Once again, they find themselves in the bathhouse.

Many absent this time, having made their peace with the storyline and their development. No obvious division to be seen, although they have naturally split into their own groups.

Still, the room is full of intimidating and powerful men naked and half merged in the water.

Sweat drips down their chiselled bodies, beads of water collect and pool in collarbones, rolling down hard pecs and sliding across cut abs.

The dampness from the vapour leaves a slick sheen on any exposed skin, highlighting scars and muscle. Hair damp, tendrils curling at the nape and locks framing their face. (Gun's 438 panel and the fan's reactions still at the forefront of most of their minds.)

Few of their usual guard and defenses are left, instead the heat of the water and the steam softens their edges, making them placid and pliant. Their voices mingle together, filling the air.

"Hey fuckos," Vin places an arm each around Hudson's and Jay's shoulder, "Do I complete the team or what. You guys are lucky to have me."

"It's nice to see you," Daniel agrees as the two blondes shrug Vin off, "Although it would be good to have Mary too,"

"True," Vin scratches his chin in thought. "Haven't see her in like 200 chapters."

"Yeah bro, when's our backstory dropping?" Taejin adds, sitting a little further away.

"Fuck OFF asshole, I'm not talking to you!" Vin throws a punch towards his former friend.

Vasco, ignoring Vin and Cheonliang's business, interrogates Jace about the status of his beloved Burn Knuckles, checking that all the welfare of his crew is ok.

"-And I like your earrings." Vasco inspects Jace's right ear.

"Thanks," Jace's hand reaches up to fiddle with his new jewellery, "It was painful, but I guess we're really going for Gun's vision with your scar and our leather jackets too."

"What about you?" Zack observes the rest of Allied with disinterest, instead seated besides Johan.

"I dunno. I really miss Eden and Miro," Johan worries his lip between his teeth, "I've been in this coma for forever."

"Shame." Samuel comments with a smirk as Jinyoung cackles next to him.

"Aish!" Sinu exclaims in frustration, "I can't believe I got arrested again. Yeonhui has been giving me grief non-stop."

"Huh? I thought it was unclear with you. Didn't you make it out?" Brad's brows knit in confusion as Jason shrugs.

"Sorry man," Jake apologises anyway, looking sheepish and scratching the back of his head.

Jerry, along with the other members of Big Deal, assures their boss that it's fine before addressing their No.6. "Lineman, looking forward to your power up."

Lineman gives them a winning grin, chest puffing with pride.

Taesoo watches a young!Gapryong wading towards him and the Kwak brothers. Their conversation stops, silence falling upon them as they notice his presence.

"Forgive my interruption," Gapryong starts, "Taesoo, please tell me how you managed to appear in so many flashbacks?"

Jichang's eyes drift over to Taesoo, "Share your secrets, Ansan."

Eli, standing bare by the showers, examines his reflection in a mirror, "I'm thinking of going blonde again."

Warren watches his friend, quickly losing interest in the conversation. "I [don't] care-"

"NO!" Goo jumps out, "There's too many blondes as it is." His fist waves in Eli's face. "I'M THE OG!"

"Put that away," Gun shoves his partner's hand roughly, "You'll find that that is Jay Hong."

"You fucking-!" Goo aims a kick in his direction, and a fight breaks out.

"So... what usually happens here?" Baek Hangyul directs to DG and Eugene, the three of them lazing in the water together.

Eugene gulps as he eyes up Hangyul's torso and abs, thinking that he should up his own workout routine.

And it's not that he is insecure with his body, but he can't help but shrink below the water a little when sitting in the middle of these two sex symbols.

"Not sure," DG says, running his fingers through his pink tresses and watching Gun and Goo squabbling at the far side of the bathhouse. "More fan service, I guess."

[cadencejames87]

Forever Mine: Part 3

Series Masterlist // Previous chapter

Chapter Summary: Bucky works on convincing you that you're his, while Steve tries to piece things together.

Word Count: 2.7k

WARNINGS: Physical & Sexual Assault (groping, choking, hitting both open and closed fist), As mentioned in part 1 references to the Highway of Tears *Warnings updated with each chapter*

*Not beta'd thus any and all mistakes are my own*

*Dividers above by @maysdigitalarts ​*

*Dividers in story by @whimsicalrogers *

You sleep in the passenger seat of Bucky’s SUV as he drives. Passing by the Kingfisher Lake welcome sign, you begin to stir. You blink away the sleep allowing your eyes to adjust to your surroundings. You close your eyes, stretch your sore muscles, and turn to look out your window at the passing street lamps.

Bucky observes you with caution.

You turn forward, squinting through the windshield with confusion. “Where are we?” You wonder aloud groggily. A sudden pain has you wincing and pulling down the visor to study your face, fingers trembling as they trace over the fresh cuts and bruises.

“I have something for the pain.” Your head whips to the man driving. He fishes out a white paper bag from the centre console, and you flinch, leaning back against your door as he hands it over. You scan the vehicle, panic-stricken. “There should be bottled water in the bag behind my seat.” You glance behind him. Bucky again offers the bag of pills. “Take them it'll help with the pain.”

You reluctantly take the bag from his hand. “Who are you? Wh-where are you taking me?” You question, though not completely fearful, more confused, your memory hazy in many areas.

“Y/N, it's fine, it's me...” You stare back incredulously. “James... Your husband. The Doctor said it would be alright if I took you home.”

You shake your head, still disoriented. “What? No. What happened? I remember laying in the rain and... sirens.” Your brow furrows as you struggle to remember anything.

“I took my eyes off you for one second. If I had just pulled over, right then, when I spotted you. I'm sorry, it's okay now, you're safe.” He tries to reassure you looking from the road to you as much as possible.

“Am I?”

“I would never hurt you.” You let out a groan and grasp your throbbing head. “Please, take your pills. I hate seeing you like this.” Bucky reaches behind his seat and digs around. He pulls out a bottle of water and offers it to you, though you only stare. “Y/N, take the bottle.“ You finally take the bottle.

“What does, when you spotted me, mean?”

“Look, take your pills, drink your water. We'll be home in no time and I’ll explain everything.”

“No, I want you to pull over right now and—"

“And what? Let you out? It’s minus ten in the middle of a mountain highway.” He argues gently.

“I don’t even know you.” You grumble under your breath.

“But you do. You were attacked, Y/N. You’re in shock.”

---

You hurry across the street, glancing back over your shoulder as you cut through the alley and run into a large frame, Jack Rollins. The slush in your hand splashes to the ground. “Hey, darling.” Jack flirts as he steps forward.

You step back, looking over your shoulder as a second man enters the alley, Brock Rumlow. You are trapped. “Please, I don’t want any trouble.” You beg, turning so the men now flank you. You try to back away, and they follow. “I have money.” You search your pockets.

“It’s not your money we want.” Rumlow smirks, fingers gliding up your arm. Suddenly Jack pins you against the wall, groping your chest. You knee him in the groin, and he topples over. “Bitch.” He chokes out.

Brock catches you by the arm before you can escape, his other hand swinging up and backhanding you with a loud SMACK. He drags you back towards Jack, blocking you from the view of the street. “Get up, Rollins.” Rumlow removes a pair of zip tie cuffs. “Now, let’s get these on our prize.”

Jack climbs to his feet and marches closer to you. He grabs you by the hair and hits you in the face. “You think you’re funny?” He strikes you again and chokes you, slowly losing consciousness.

---

You read the prescription bottle in your name, Y/F/N Barnes. “And the doctor just let me leave without any scans or tests? Did they say anything? D-did we make a report? And why is that all I can remember?” You drop the bottle on your lap and rub your head on the verge of frustrated tears.

“Y/N, doll, I couldn’t let you wake up in there connected to all those machines. We'll get you home, you can rest in familiar surroundings, and we’ll visit our family doctor later in the week.” He squeezes your thigh in comfort.

Pulling away, you stare out your window, turning forward when Bucky turns down a dirt road. You look over your shoulder and watch as the lights disappear and darkness engulfs the car. “You’re safe, Y/N.” His earlier words echo in your mind. Your eyes fall to the pills and bottle of water in your lap, the only light emanating from the dashboard.

Lieutenant Rambeau drops a stack of files on the desk, placing her hands on her hips as she paces, exasperated beyond belief. “What was that?” She stops to face Zemo.

Officer Zemo sits comfortably in front of her desk. He tilts his head in a questioning manner.

“Your measuring contest with the husband of the victim.” She reminds him.

“If it is her husband,” Zemo mumbles under his breath.

Lieutenant Rambeau stares at Zemo, arms crossed and jaw tense.

“How do we know Y/N didn't run off with a boyfriend or lover?”

“Is that what happened to you?” Zemo looks away. “I see the tan line where a ring should be. And I’m guessing this is the first investigation you have been invited to shadow. Maybe you’re not ready.” Lieutenant Rambeau turns a blind eye to the alarmed look on Zemo's face as she takes a seat behind her desk. “We leave that shit at home and investigate all avenues until they run dry; that is our job.” Rambeau turns her attention to the files on her desk. The knows all too well, how time sensitive a missing persons case can be. “There's nothing for us at the hospital, security system was undergoing maintenance.”

Zemo clears his throat and sits up straighter. “S-same goes for the scene.” He clears his throat again, attempting to find more confidence in his words. “Some kids smashed an overhead camera in the back alley where husband number one found our vic.” He hands her photos of the evidence, both on the scene and in the lab; the plastic remains of a small drone puzzled together.

Lieutenant Rambeau lets out a heavy sigh. “There are cameras everywhere these days. How do we come up with nothing?” She hands the photos back to Officer Zemo.

“We can start with Y/N Rogers, look into who she is, her family... Husband.” It’s safe to say Zemo's confidence had returned.

Though Rambeau is naturally skeptical, massaging her temples, anticipating an argument. “His demeanour speaks that of a desperate man. He's angry. He wants his wife back.” She defends, rolling her shoulders. “We rule out anything domestic, check their records, bank accounts—"

Officer Zemo hurries to jot everything down. “We're looking for large sums transferred, right?”

Lieutenant Rambeau confirms with a brisk nod. “There was no ransom; at least not yet.”

“Revenge?”  

“Does the Rogers family have enemies? What do they do? Who is Steve, and who is Y/N? Most importantly, who is Bentley London?

Bucky pulls up the driveway of a beautiful two-story country house with a wrap-around porch. The house and yards lie encompassed by forest.

“I don’t remember this.” You lean forward, staring at the house through the windshield. There is a sense of familiarity, though it feels wrong. Why is your mind so broken? Are you forcing this as a memory? Or is it in there, buried?

“We were barely here a year.” He shrugs, heartbroken. "You could be remembering our first home?" You give him a perplexed look and shake your head as you return your attention to the house. Bucky reaches to touch your cheek, pulling back at the last second. He leaves you to examine the house as he climbs out. You watch him walk up the front steps and wait for you.

Bucky's shoulders slump. He gnaws at his lip, head hanging low as he plays with the keys in his hands. Anything to distract from the burning desire to march back to the vehicle, rip open your door, and pull you into his arms.

You hesitate to exit, grasping the bottle of water and pills tight. Though something about the man in front of you calls out to you, your mind floods with fear, anxiety, and suspicion, in need of reassurance and comfort through familiarity. You reluctantly climb out of the SUV and join him, hoping to find what you seek inside the house.

Steve leans on the rail of his balcony. Cell phone in hand, eyes closed, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

Breen sits with his wife, Maya Lopez, in the breakfast nook of their one-story bungalow. Maya taps the screen to get Steve’s attention. As soon as he opens his eyes, she signs, “what if we drove out tomorrow? I could keep an eye on the little ones while you and Breen—"

“Maya, I appreciate you wanting to help—"

“You can’t stop us from coming up there, Steve! You know how much she means to us.” Breen argues.

“She’s family,” Maya adds, her motions and demeanour conveying finality.

“We can’t interfere with an active investigation.” Steve reasons.

“And why not?” Maya furrows her brow, nodding in agreement with Breen’s inquiry.

“What am I supposed to do, Breen?”

“We’re JTF2, who’s more qualified to find her than us?”

Steve paces the small balcony. “Fuck!” He drops into a chair, leaning forward, arms resting on his thighs.

“Come on, Cap, give me the word,” Breen smirks.

“He gave them a name, and he had pictures of her on his phone. They didn’t even talk to her.” He looks off towards the mountain skyline, the moon high in the sky and a sliver of orange still visible beyond the peaks.

Maya looks to Breen and motions to Steve with a shrug. “What are you thinking?” Breen asks reading her thoughts.

Steve turns back to the screen. “I don’t know yet, but I should have been there. I’m supposed to keep her safe.”

“Then we find her, together. Just give me the word.”

Steve lets out a HEAVY SIGH.

Maya catches Steve’s attention with a wave of her hand. “How are the babies doing?”

Steve glances back over his shoulder. “They're finally asleep. It took me forever to get them down. It seems so effortless for her.”

“Stev—"

“I know she’s had more practice with me always away,” he pauses, regretting how much he missed while fighting for his country. “Maybe you should come and grab them. I need to figure some shit out. I’ll call in the morning.” He ends the call, returns to the railing, and looks up at the stars above.

You stare at the moon and stars above as Bucky unlocks the door and steps inside. He holds the door, turning to admire you with a soft smile. You wander inside only to pause in the entryway, taken back by the emptiness.

A winding set of stairs off the foyer lead to the second floor above. Beyond the stairs are the kitchen and dining room. The living area and an office stand on either side of the entrance.

Bucky steps closer, placing his hand lovingly on the small of her back, eyes trained on you. You can't help the quiet gasp that escapes your lips as you stand taller and step out of his reach. "Let's talk in here." He sweeps his hand towards the living area, masking the sting of your response. You take the lead, unaware of how he studies your every movement.

The living room is empty, except for a single sectional, veiled by a sheet, in front of a palladian window, and a wedding photo hung above the mantel, covered in a thin layer of dust.

You are drawn to the picture, skeptical yet curious, stepping over a white sheet bunched in a crumpled mess on the floor. "It doesn’t feel like it’s me." You are rooted in your spot, transfixed by the image of you and him, wrapped in each other's arms on a dance floor surrounded by fairy lights.

Bucky busies himself, scooping up the white fabric and folding it neatly as he stands next to you. "You’ve been missing a long time, nearly six years." You turn fast, eyes wide. "It’s the only reason I wanted to leave as soon as we did. What do you remember before today?"

I don’t... I--" A faint memory of children laughing and playing in the snow. "I had a family." You look at Bucky. "A husband and kids." You look around the room. "Nobody lives here, at least not a family." You whisper, tears filling your eyes as you try to focus on the memory. "I can’t see their faces, it... it’s foggy."

Bucky sets the folded sheet on the mantel and takes a seat on the arm of the sectional. He fidgets with the ring on his finger, eyes trained on the logs in the fireplace. "We never had kids." He looks up as you turn to meet his eyes. "I mean, we were trying, you and I." His head falls. But not before you catch the pain in his eyes. "And then one day, you just didn’t come home." He shrugs. "I haven’t been back here since. It’s been too hard." Bucky admits, finally returning his eyes to yours. "Can I show you something?"

He looks so broken. Your heart aches for this stranger, your husband. You nod, hoping to find the answers you seek while bringing him peace before he falls apart. Bucky stands, hand outstretched and waiting. Your eyes fall to his right hand, the other hidden in his pocket. He quickly shoves his free hand into his pocket with a sigh and motions with his head for you to follow.

Bucky leads the way upstairs. He can't help to look back every few seconds as if you will disappear if he looks away too long. You enter a room with a plastic drop cloth protecting the floor. "Are you going to kill me now?"

Shaking his head, “just trust me. Look around."

When you actually take the time to scan the room, you notice the drop cloths also protect a pair of cribs. Beneath the plastic on the floor is a small round arc reactor rug, fitting snug between the cribs. Buckets of paint and supplies lay neatly along the baseboard under an unfinished superhero mural. Two halves of a shield (Cap & Bucky.) An outline of the babies' names, Jamie & Lucas, is scrawled within the shield. Below is a quote: "I'm with you til the end of the line."

You turn to Bucky, curious. "I thought--"

"The room was off limits to me until you finished, and then..." His voice wavers. "When you went missing, I--" He bites his tongue, blinking away tears.

"Where are they?"

He can't bear to look you in the eye, pained by the loss. "I mean, I only just found you." He looks up to find you hugging yourself as you continue to take in the room. "I promise you I’ll go back. I-I’ll look for them, and we’ll talk to the police when you’re ready."

You turn on Bucky, angry. "I think maybe you should’ve done that before taking me."

"Don't say it like that, like I abducted you or something," he argues back and instantly regrets his outburst when you recoil from him. "I'm sorry. You’re right, I just... I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you again." He takes a step forward, and you back away. "Y/N..." This might be it, the moment he breaks. "It’s been years, and they’ve done shit all. For all they care, you’re just another woman lost on the Highway of Tears." Bucky holds it together, reaching out for you.

You shake your head.

"Look, I know this is a lot. Let me at least show you to our room." His hand drops with your hesitation. "I’ll take the couch." He searches your eyes. "Please. You need to rest, and we can revisit this in the morning." He extends his left hand, and you finally place your palm in his. Something about it put you at ease. Maybe it was his willingness to be vulnerable with you. Hopefully your trust is not misplaced and your memories will soon return.

Next Chapter

Tag List: @buckyalpine​ @pono-pura-vida​ 

[ballet-symphonie]

Absolutely mandatory viewing - a truly spectacular DQ.

Highlights include:

0:00 Renata's stunning series of temps de flèche

2:57 Renata doing an assemblé so high that her head nearly goes outside of the camera frame

3:36 Act 1 Pas de trois, finishing with Kimin's signature consecutive double tours

4:14 Kitri's act I variation, complete with triple piqués en dehors and backbreaking leaps, all at whirlwind speed.

4:54 The superman Kimin, with one arm press lifts to both sides!

5:38 Charming Renata, so expressive in her eyes to go along with razor-sharp balances and mindblowing turns, ending the dizzying diagonal with a double piqués en dehors with her arms over her head.

7:58 Love how she jumps so freely into his arms with her head completely thrown back, so exciting!

8:40 Kimin's acting, so cute, he can't possibly even fake being angry with his Kitri, followed by lots of head-shaking DRAMA

8:58 That smirk, I'm dead. PLUS THE KISS TO THE AUDIENCE. Love the pandering that is DQ

9:47 Just too cute, have no further words. Renata's expressions are beyond adorable especially when she cheekily asks for more kisses. HE'S SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD YOU TWO

9:57 Ahh yes, she remembered now. Here comes the pageantry, especially effective with her fluttering her big doe eyes

10:25 Haven't seen this before, Kimin lovably tugging on Renata's skirt, "Hey, we're doing this gig to get hitched remember! Eyes on the prize!" Their expressions and chemistry is just pure gold.

11:19 Love how playful Renata is in the entree, with deep cambrés and bold arm and head movements, especially as she finishes the pirouettes. Very attractive to see the character of Kitri still shining in the grand pas.

11:54 Flawless lift. Notice Renata's superb coordination, in order to catch the music on time, she prepares her arms to start the turns while coming down from the lift.

12:20 Full split grand pas de chat with no momentum into the adagio preparation SO EXTRA, SO DON Q, I'M HERE FOR IT

12:30 "I'll just make a couple timestamps, I won't go crazy".....I lied to myself. But but this fouette is just too good, Kimin transitioning with both arms stretched wide to show her off. Renata's eyes just make me fall in love and I'm obsessed with her sassy transition into 4th position en pointe.

12:54 WHAT A MOMENT. TIME LITERALLY STOPPED....moving on

13:02 I promise I'll stop timestamping every 10 seconds but like, that arabesque balance is how every balance should be. Classy, without showboating, an active choice on when to exist, no needless 4th wall breaking, perfectly musical.

13:20 The pirouettes? Stellar. The transition out of it? Even better.

13:44 SHe's so confident here, she looks up and explodes her arms out before exiting the pirouette into the penché. That choice creates such feelings of elation.

14:11 Give me either one of their renveresé, thanks :)

14:16 Exiting this (gorgeously done) lift can be awkward, love how Renata uses her arms to transition into the next pose

15:02 YES to the traveling that's happening!!

15:33 Her smile. That's all. Delightful.

15:47 ADORABLE

16:13 Kimin's variation starts. I mean come on. He's just flying around. THOSE OUTSIDE ATTITUDE PIOUETTES. Super stable tours to high arabesques. Just too good.

17:04 Renata's variation starts. Jawdropping footwork, the petit rond de jambes are so clean and so precise, and she's moving so much when she does them. HERE FOR THE RENATA SASS. THe way her face lights up when the crowd starts clapping is priceless

17:57 CODA TIME!!!! Legitimately think no one has ever done this jump better than Kimin. And that manage, just looks like it takes no effort for him to complete. He just floats around like it's nothing.

18:21 Holy shit her fouettes are insane, AND THEN ALL DOUBLES IN THe SECOND HALF???? Aish, her tiny frustrated face appeared for half a second because she was the tiniest bit off and had to do one single. But what a fight, she's such a spitfire. I was on the edge of my seat.

18:45 Speechless. Just what??? How????? Kimin Kim, explain yourself????

19:15 THE WAY THEY SMILE. WHAT A SHOW!!!!

I did this during my first watch-through, I think you can gauge my level of excitement quite clearly ahaha. Let me know your favorite moments and if you enjoyed reading my first reaction :)

[animeomegas]

Omega!Bakugou headcanons

Anon: Pssssss imma need some more omega Bakugou like now no it make him jealous too because why not

AND

Anon: hi! could you do some omega!bakugou x male alpha!reader? nsfw and sfw pls <3

nesting too pls!! idk why but I love the idea of nesting sjdjsnd, pregnant bakugou fluff would be lovely too <3

AND

Anon: Hi I was wonder if you could do omega Bakugou sfw and nsfw please 🥺

(Hey, everyone!! Bakugou is very popular in my inbox! Okay, let’s write some omega!Bakugou headcanons <3 I have another request for pregnant!Bakugou, so I’ll add that part of the middle request to another post 😊 Also, I only write for a gender neutral reader. I hope you all enjoy~)

Warnings: N-sfw under a cut, suggestive behaviour multiple times not under the cut.

Nesting:

Bakugou is not an omega who is big on nesting. He does nest and he’s very proud of his nest, but he doesn’t feel the urge to nest super often.

He doesn’t keep a permanent, all year-round nest, he’s kind of a clean freak so having to constantly clean all the blankets in his nest would drive his nuts.

He does nest during his heat and late term pregnancy, and also after periods of extreme stress, but not often outside of these times.

But if he knows his alpha likes his nests, he might build them for his alpha when they’re stressed, although he’ll claim he just felt like making it and it shouldn’t go to waste.

It’s not a very convincing lie.

His nest is not in a very popular style, mainly because Bakugou overheats so easily.

It’s a simple double mattress on a very low frame, with a couple of pillows and sheet like blankets that he normally uses as a base rather than a covering.

He has a black and red colour scheme that he thinks is the coolest thing ever, and he definitely has an All Might pillow hidden somewhere at the back that he threatens his alpha to keep a secret, it’s very cute.

He likes his nest to be in an easily defendable position, whether that be inside a large cupboard or wardrobe, or a small room with one door and a small window.

Bakugou also keeps a mini fridge by his nest, as a lot of omegas do, to store water and food, but what he has that a lot of omegas don’t, is a mini freezer too.

He keeps ice packs and ice lollies in there to help when he’s in heat because his temperature tends to get way too high.

Bakugou doesn’t like being vulnerable, so his nest is a sensitive topic for him.

It takes him quite a while to let his alpha into his nest, but he’s quicker to let them chill outside of it, holding his hand and keeping him company. He would probably let them outside his nest after courting for a year and knowing them for at least two years. When he lets them inside depends on a lot of factors, including how well they deal with him from the outside of his nest. It could be anywhere from three months to another year.

Pups:

Bakugou has always wanted some pups, but in a removed and distant kind of way. After all, becoming the No. 1 hero was far more important than any of that ‘family’ nonsense.

He only really considers pups when he’s in a very committed relationship and at a comfortable place in his career. He’s not prepared to take time off at a vulnerable career moment, after all.

Bakugou wants two children, because, while he would never admit it, he always wished he had a sibling when he was a kid, so he wants to give that to his children.

But he’s very conflicted about it.

Firstly, two pregnancy leaves would be a huge blow to his career. Prime hero years and prime ‘having children years’ are the same years, so in a way, he has to decide how to balance these two priorities. He isn’t sure he wants to risk his career with that much leave so close together (heroes can’t be in the field while pregnant at all, so it would be a huge sacrifice.)

Secondly, he’s nervous about how useless he would likely feel while pregnant. He’s a workaholic and being confined to his house and losing control over his quirk would drive him nuts.

So, he doesn’t really know what to do. He doesn’t share any of his concerns with his alpha, but he does take their wishes into account too. If his alpha really wants two children, Bakugou does keep that in mind. But he’s not a push over. If he decides that two maternity leaves are too many, then it’s too many. It’s his body and he won’t let anyone tell him otherwise.

So, with all this in mind, Bakugou is fucking thrilled when he finds out he’s having twins.

Two pups for the price of one pregnancy leave?? Sign him the hell up!

Bakugou has twin boys, both alphas, and Bakugou just cannot believe his luck that all his problems just fixed themselves.

“But I don’t want to go!” came a defiant voice from the back seat of the car. Both you and Bakugou sighed, not keen on restarting the disagreement that had plagued the household for the entire morning. It had taken twice as long as normal this morning to get the twins dressed and in the car because of this very argument.

You could see Bakugou about to open his mouth to tell him that they had to, but you held up a hand to stop him.

“Why don’t you want to go, sweetheart?” you cooed at your oldest son.

“I don’t want you and daddy to leave…” whimpered your youngest son, answering in his brother’s stead.

Bakugou winced and reached a hand into the back and squeezed each of his son’s hands in turn.

“I know.” He said simply. You could feel his guilt, even though you both knew it was the best for all of you that the twins get used to nursery so that both you and Bakugou could go back to focusing on your careers. They would be fine, you tried to convince yourself. Millions of kids do this every year and it works out fine.

The nursery came into view, and you refocused your attention onto finding a parking space in the little car park on the side of the building. You could hear your sons shifting anxiously in the back and it pulled at your heart strings. You pulled into an empty space and turned off the engine. You and Bakugou shared a single look before moving to get your children out of the car with practiced ease.

“No,” your eldest son shouted. “I’m not going to go. I’m staying here!”

You had tried to take him out of the car seat, but he had refused to cooperate. You didn’t want to pull him out in case you hurt him. Bakugou came to stand behind you, your youngest son clutching his neck desperately.

“Let me talk to him,” he spoke softly, handing the younger twin over into your arms.

“Hey,” Bakugou said softly, leaning down to peer inside the car where his eldest son stubbornly sat with his arms crossed. “It’s okay to be scared to go to nursery, you know.”

Your oldest son visibly flinched and avoided looking at Bakugou in the eyes.

“I’m not scared, daddy. I just don’t want to.”

“Uh huh,” Bakugou said, eyebrow raised.

“I’m not!” Your son exploded. When he realised that he’d just shouted at his father, the colour drained from his face and his bottom lip started to quiver. Bakugou wordlessly held out his arms and his eldest son accepted the embrace just in time to burst into heavy tears on Bakugou’s shoulder.

“It’s alright,” Bakugou hushed. “I’m not angry at you.”

In your arms, your youngest son was watching his brother cry and letting out little whimpers into your neck. You rubbed his back soothingly and whispered that everything was going to okay.

Out of the corner of your eye, you realised another parent was staring judgementally at your family. Bakugou clearly also noticed because he bared his teeth as a warning and the parent quickly moved on. You scoffed at the idiot who thought it was a good idea to antagonise an omega who was looking after a distraught pup, let alone when said omega was a top ten hero.

“W-What if they don’t l-like me?” your eldest whimpered out.

“Here,” Bakugou wiped some of the tears away with his thumb. “How about this, you tell me if anyone is mean to you and I’ll sort it out, how does that sound?”

“But…” your son hesitated. “But what will you do?”

Bakugou grinned.

“I’ll make their parents regret doing such a shitty job at parenting.”

You gasped, halfway between scandalised and amused.

“Katsuki!” you reprimanded and smacked his lightly on the shoulder.

It did seem to cheer up your sons, though, who were now giggling at your antics.

“Daddy said a bad word,” your youngest twin giggled to you.

“He did,” you pressed your lips together. “And it was very naughty of him.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes and instead placed the pup in his arms on the floor, taking him by the hand. You did the same and slowly, you both made your way toward the school gate. The mood dropped, but neither of your children tried to resist.

You could see a teacher standing at the gate to escort the new students and you made your way over.

“Remember,” Bakugou said before you reached the gate, stopping you all for a moment. “We’ll be back in this many hours,” he held up three fingers. “Can you guys tell me how many this is?”

“One… two… three…” they both said together.

“That’s right! See? You guys are going to be the smartest ones in there,” Bakugou boasted, ruffling their hair.

“Careful,” you teased. “They’ll turn into you.”

“Are you saying I’m always the smartest person in the room?” Bakugou grinned back.

“No, I’m saying you always think you’re the smartest person in the room.”

“Oi!” he growled, knocking his shoulder with yours. The pups giggled again, seeming to be in higher spirits. You escorted them to the gate at the front of the playground and let the teacher introduce herself.

And with one final goodbye, your pups were off into the nursery and out of sight.

You and Bakugou walked to the car in silence, digesting what had happened and processing that your little ones were now old enough for nursery. You both slipped back into the car and began the drive home.

It was weird to think that your children were neither with you, nor at home waiting for you, but that kind of existential deep dive could wait until later.

Bakugou’s hand settled just a little bit too high on your thigh. For the moment, it was time to appreciate the novelty of an empty house.

 Jealously:

I don’t think anyone would be very surprised to find out that Bakugou can get quite jealous on occasion.

In the early days of your relationship, he’s very nervous that his alpha is going to find a ‘better’ omega, an omega who is more traditional, and leave him for them. It takes a lot of bravery for him to leave himself vulnerable to being abandoned, and occasionally the insecurities seep through.

He hates the whiny, simpering omegas that plaster themselves onto the nearest alpha, and it makes him furious to see anyone doing that to you.

He has no subtlety, no brooding angst, he just threatens the other omega(s) away to their face, and then drags you somewhere private to cover you in his scent.

Later in the relationship, things change. He’s extremely confident that his alpha is his. Why would they ever leave him? He’s the best fucking omega ever!

Instead, he gets jealous if he isn’t getting enough attention because you’re spending too much time with someone else.

He doesn’t do this in a possessive way, it’s just that he doesn’t get a whole lot of free time and when his alpha spends that free time with someone else? Another omega? He’s pissed.

He gets surly and passive aggressive about it, and it’s extremely obvious.

The best way to fix it is to just give him lots of attention, he won’t behave like this is you have to leave for something important (he understands duty like the best of them), so it’s very easy to address.

Bakugou idly stirred a pot of miso soup as the radio in the kitchen blasted out whatever awful top 40 song it had picked this morning. He had only put it on to fill the silence really, which was the only thing this awful excuse for music was good for in his opinion.

He was making breakfast for the two of you as a kind of mini celebration. He had two days off in a row, the first time in a couple of months because of his crazy work schedule and he wanted to make sure he spent every moment that he could with his alpha. And so, here he was, getting up early to prepare breakfast for your both.

There was a lull in noise as the radio switched between songs, and in the few moments of silence, Bakugou could hear shuffling coming from the bathroom. He grinned. Perfect timing.

He put down the last plate and waited for you to come out, you should be here any second now.

 Fiddling with your shirt one last time you swung open your bedroom door, bag on your shoulder, finally ready to leave. You were interrupted momentarily by a delicious scent in the air. Bakugou must be cooking, so you followed the smell to the kitchen and walked in to say goodbye to him, vaguely sad that you were going to be missing his food, but he was probably only making himself something to bring to work, anyway.

And then you saw the elaborate breakfast spread your heart stopped. Had you forgotten an anniversary? Bakugou looked just as shocked to see you dressed up and ready to leave. However, his shock soon melts into frustration.

“Why are you all dressed up?” he growled, the excitement that had been on his face when you walked in now gone. “You said you weren’t working today.”

“I’m not,” you said quietly, confused as to why he was so upset. “Izuku messaged me while I was getting dressed and invited me for brunch, I was just going to meet him.”

Bakugou’s face screwed up at your words. He went to open his mouth but then stopped. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He was doing the breathing exercises that his therapist taught him for when he was angry. What had you done to make him this upset?

The relaxing exercises clearly weren’t working for him because he stood up from the table and stalked out of the room suddenly, shutting himself in your bedroom. You winced as the door slammed shut behind him.

Oh dear… you had made your mate so upset that he had shut himself away in your bedroom. Your stomach twisted itself into a knot. It was time for some damage control (and a quick check of the calendar to makes sure you hadn’t actually forgotten an anniversary or something.)

You shot a quick text to Midoriya, apologising for cancelling and letting him know that something had come up. He sent back a ‘don’t worry!’ message and about six smiling emojis. Well, at least he wasn’t also mad at you.

Fishing out a tray from the cupboard above the sink, you stacked it up with as much food from the table as you could, thankful that it appeared to still be warm, and carried it to your bedroom door.

“Katsuki?” you called out, knocking on the door with your foot. “I’m coming in, is that okay?”

There was silence. Well, silence was better than swearing, so you carefully slid open the door and moved towards the brooding lump on the bed.

“The fuck do you want?” he growled. “I thought you were going out to eat with Deku?”

You froze at his vicious tone. Was he jealous? Well, that was a lot easier to solve than forgetting an anniversary, at least.  With a smile, you slid the tray onto the bedside table and climbed on the bed behind you mate, letting out a reassuring scent. You wrapped your arms around him, ignoring how he tensed in your embrace, and whispered into his ear.

“Why would I spend time with Midoriya when I could be spending time with you, hmm?” you whispered, purposefully blowing hot air onto his neck. You revelled in his full body shiver. “The only reason I accepted plans with Midoriya was because I thought you were going to work.” You pressed as close to him as you could and placed a single kiss right behind his ear. Bakugou melted at the affection.

“Come on now,” you continued, a coy smile on your face. “Let’s not let this delicious breakfast go to waste.”

You reached over and scooped a little bit of rice onto your fingers before holding it up to his lips. Bakugou opened his mouth with only a small grumble in complaint, and you made sure to push your fingers a little deeper inside than perhaps absolutely necessary.

“I promise I’ll make this morning’s misunderstanding up to you.”

Miscellaneous:

Bakugou’s scent is fairly sweet but still quite smoky.

When he’s upset/stressed, his scent is like burnt sugar, and when he’s very happy/excited, he smells like almost like a marshmallow roasting on a bonfire.

It’s a very pleasant scent but it does tend to divide people. Some love it, and others hate it.  Bakugou doesn’t care what anyone else thinks about his scent (except his alpha, but shh, that’s a secret!)

In his family, his father is an omega and his mother is an alpha and while they are happy together, Bakugou always promised himself that he would never end up in a relationship like that. He didn’t want some alpha bossing him around like his mother bossed around his father.

Bakugou finds meek alphas (and people) annoying, but he doesn’t like super aggressive alphas either. He’s attracted to people who exist in the middle of those extremes.

Bakugou knew he was an omega from birth, and it was something he was very insecure about for a long time. It was a big part of why he turned out the way he did as a child, he was making up for something that he viewed as a weakness by being as aggressive as possible.

His mother wasn’t great at making him feel secure in his secondary gender, assuming he would like certain things and pushing him in certain directions simply because he was an omega.

His father said that he was there if Bakugou had any questions, but he let Bakugou reach out to him instead of reaching out to Bakugou, and Bakugou was too proud to make the first move.

Bakugou ends up deciding that being an omega wasn’t going to stop him becoming the No. 1 hero. He decided that he could overcome being an omega.

It wasn’t until he was an adult that he actually started to accept being an omega was a part of him that he didn’t need to overcome, but that he could instead embrace and that it didn’t make him weak to do so.

When he does become a mainstream hero, he makes sure to always tell the omega children that he meets that they can do whatever they want and still be an omega.

N-sfw under the cut

Bakugou is a switch, mostly.

Oftentimes he switches multiple times in the same session, so his alpha needs to be quite the brat tamer to keep him from getting frustrated and trying to get on top so that he can control the pace.

He has a very high sex drive, and he likes to have a partner who can match him because he way prefers sex to masturbating.

It would be hard to find someone whose chest and nipples are as sensitive as Bakugou’s, and when he’s in heat, he can definitely orgasm just from his chest being stimulated.

Bakugou is also definitely a squirter, something which he was very shocked and embarrassed to find out.

Bakugou generally prefers slightly rougher sex. He gets bored when the pace is too slow and definitely scratches and bites (and is happy to receive the same in return).

When he’s in heat, Bakugou is a bit different.

He’s not a pillow prince by any means, but he is definitely a lot more passive than he is normally.

He’s not super loud, but he definitely swears a lot, even between waves of heat when he gets grumpy that he’s too hot and sticky. That swearing is a lot less sexy though.

Bakugou’s sexual side doesn’t really come out outside of his own home. He doesn’t like flaunting anything in public and can even get uncomfortable talking about sex with his friends, especially when they tease him with personal questions. He’s definitely a private person when it comes to sex.

Although that is not to say he isn’t confident in the expression of his own sexuality, much to opposite is true. He is definitely the kind of person to order some new toy or outfit on the internet every month to surprise his alpha.

He’s sexy and he knows it, so why not?