#gonna try not to re-read this a thousand times until I hate it too so if it's like

[lizstiel]

Dean’s sitting at the kitchen table eating meatloaf when it all sort of hits – and he’s desperate to remember it exactly how it happened.

With his fork raised halfway to his mouth, a dollop of meat and sauce perched precariously on the tines, his eyes wandered over to where Cas stood by the sink in a pair of ratty pajama bottoms and one of Dean’s old t-shirts. (One of Dean’s old t-shirts, because once Cas gets his shoulders into them they never really sit the same way.)

He’s got soap up to his elbows, scrubbing methodically at the dishes Dean just dirtied, his brow a taught, concentrated line. He’s bringing the same kind of meticulous focus to the dishes that he used to bring to leading the armies of Heaven; that singular kind of attention, both unnerving and admirable. (Dean had once tried to explain that he didn’t need to wash them quite so vigorously, to which Cas had deadpanned, “Do you know how many food particles remain on the dishes you wash, Dean?” It quickly became his job, after that.)

It’s early July. About 6:30pm. The window over the sink is cracked, and the front door is wide open, letting the sound of cicadas and crickets drift in with the summer breeze. The sun’s starting to set behind the field, casting the world in that particular orange glow that has always made something in Dean ache. In the other room, the record player Sam got them for Christmas plays a beat up Janis Joplin record he’d found at a secondhand store in town. The opening chords of Me and Bobby McGee have just started, and the cicadas are humming, and the crickets are singing, and the sun is setting, and Cas is standing in old pajamas washing dishes Dean just used to make them dinner and –

Cas tilts his head.

This isn’t revolutionary. He does it a lot. A very ingrained behavior, some might say. But he isn’t confused, he’s reacting. To the song. He doesn’t react to music the way Dean wants him to, never has, but in his own way, it’s almost like he’s leaning closer to hear it. An infinitesimal thing. The smallest gesture. The corner of his mouth twitches, and Dean has never loved him more than he does at this moment: backlit by a summer sunset in their house in the middle of nowhere, hand washing dishes and listening to Janis Joplin.

Cas turns when the sound of Dean’s fork clattering on the plate sounds, but Dean just scoops him into his arms, chases any worries away with a kiss, and then another, and then one more for good measure. Cas laughs against his mouth, desperately trying to keep his soapy arms away from Dean’s dry clothes. “Dean,” he chides, squirming and chuckling, trying to extract himself from Dean’s grip. “I’m not finished.”

“I’ll get ‘em tomorrow,” Dean promises, peppering sweet little kisses down the line of Cas' throat. He hasn’t shaved in a couple of days. It tickles all the way down. “Love you so much,” he says, because he wants to. Because he’s so full with it he’s overflowing. Because if he doesn’t tell him right now, in this moment, and every moment after this one, he might die. He needs him to know. It’s vital that he knows.

Cas’ laughter warms, and he slides one soapy hand to the back of Dean’s neck, eyebrows raised in challenge when he shudders at the sensation. When Dean doesn’t immediately shoo him away, he slides the other soapy hand up Dean’s arm. “Dean?” He’s not worried, the timber of his voice is honey-smooth and light, but he’s confused. Not that Dean doesn’t tell him often, and loudly, how much he loves him, but to be fair this did kind of come from nowhere, so he understands. It’s just much too much. It’s not enough and it’s everything. It’s everything in the world Dean has ever wanted.

Janis Joplin is singing freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose, and Dean’s arms are loose around Cas’ waist, and he loves him, god he loves him so much, so he kisses him on one corner of the mouth, and then the other. Janis says, nothin’, don’t mean nothin’ hon’ if it ain’t free, no, no – and he rocks their bodies together, slow, to the beat of the music. Cas’ arms come to wind around his neck automatically, and his smile starts to sprawl into something reserved for only the really good moments. Wide and gummy and for Dean – and feelin’ good was easy, Lord, when he sang the blues. He presses his forehead to Cas’ and they just sort of sway there like that, smiling at each other like this might be the last chance they ever get.

Cas says – “I love you, Dean,” just as Janis is singing, you know feelin’ good was good enough for me – and it occurs to Dean that he’s dancing in the kitchen with the love of his life. He thinks back to the longest, loneliest nights he spent staring up at the night sky, believing wholly he’d die bloody and alone on the backend of some random hunt, and how the smallest (but loudest) part of him had wished for exactly this. For someone to hold him and see him and dance in the kitchen with him, barefoot and covered in soap.

He kisses the tip of Cas’ nose, the lines under his eyes. Doesn’t realize he’s crying until Cas is wiping tears away with the pads of his thumbs and soothing hands through his hair. He’s crying, too. Laughing and crying and telling Dean he loves him, he loves him so much, he’s loved him from the first moment he saw him.

It settles in Dean then – really settles deep, and true, and good – that he was meant for this. He wasn’t born to be a weapon. Wasn’t born to be a son, or a father, or a brother. Wasn’t born to save the world or to end it – was just meant to dance. His arms were meant to hold. To sway them both around the cheap linoleum floor, to sling low around Cas’ waist and spin them both ‘til they were dizzy with it.

They laugh and kiss and Janis is saying – good enough for me and Bobby McGee – and Dean is thinking – Yeah. Yeah, it really is.

[dancer-nguyen]

Why artist should write?

Why tho?

Because I hate my art most of the time, and I think you hate your art most of the time, too.

Stress, pressure, self-doubt, comparing to others, all these stuff fill my mind when I try to draw something. "I must make something good, I have to, as good as the 5000 pins I saved on Pinterest".

These thoughts overwhelm your mind, basically.

Arts are supposed to make us feel better, they are supposed to be our instrument of expressing our thoughts and clear the burden in our mind. So why are we, artists, always filled with negative thoughts?

Have you ever felt this way: constantly changing the sketch, fine-tuning the smallest pixel of the lineart while thinking that this piece will go nowhere and you are a terrible artist, and finally you block down some color+shadow and whoaaaaa it suddenly clicks: "I actually feel something from this piece"

The "click" is something I would like to call "the-stage-which-your-art-begin-to-express-your-ideas-and-feelings". Until we reach this stage, we cannot express our ideas, gestures need to be drawn, line art needs to be polished, colors need to be blocked, shadows need to be shaded, and I-don't-know-why-but-it-looks-good filters like grain and chromatic aberration needed to be added.

We have to go through everything so that our art becomes "something". Until that something appears, our mind just keeps filling with our own negative thoughts to the point that it is overwhelmed. I give up most of the time before my art actually becomes something. Thousands of sketches and line art are wasted just because I cannot push myself a little bit more.

But hey, who said the only way to dump our negative thoughts is by pushing ourselves to finish the piece?

The way I choose is writing

(ironically, another form of Arts).

Writing is a great way to express yourself! Unlike art, where the learning curve can be tough and a bit discouraging, writing is more forgiving. All you need is the ability to write, and you're good to go.

Don't be afraid of writing. It's a personal medium, so there's no need to polish your writing to the same extent as you do with your art. It's like sketching - just put your thoughts down on paper. However, not all artists can express themselves through sketching alone. So while telling them to "just sketch and don't worry about how it looks" may not create any more negative thoughts, it may not necessarily get rid of existing ones.

I have a notebook where I write every thought in my head down. And so far it has been filled with neat writing, bad writing, skeletons, nude figures, random shaded spheres, letters I want to send to my favorite YouTuber but I just don't have the courage to do so, and so so much more. And so far, it has been nice. Sometimes I'm just too tired to write (literally every day lol) so I just flip back and forth and see all the things I have made, unpolished, unaffected by my crippling perfectionism. And oh boy after that I just had more motivation and ended up writing anyway.

You can just journal random stuff that pops up in your mind, both negative and positive, no need to polish anything. And done, your mind is clear now and you can focus on the piece of art yayyyyyy.

Actually you're just gonna fall into an endless cycle of being stressed, finding something to relieve it, pushing yourself to finish the piece, being happy after completing it, and finally being stressed about the next piece.

But the thing is not about the endless cycle of pain, it's about how we deal with it. After all, living itself is painful, but by dealing with the pain and finding ways to enjoy our lives, our existence becomes meaningful. P/SS: Writing is actually really good for noting down inspirations and composing your future pieces. Sometimes I just write prompts for my character designs or environment designs because I don't wanna sketch them out. Later I will re-read the prompt and imagine all kinds of different stuff I can make. (I learned this from that chapter of Bakuman, when the illustrator tells the story writer to use only words to describe his ideas instead of using sketches, the illustrator can have more freedom in designing the pages)

[ukiyokki]

mars reads too much dreamnotfound fanfiction for their own good

a dreamnotfound fanfic recommendation list by your resident dumbass (me)

this took way to fucking long... i’m tired

below is a (very extensive) list dedicated to all my favorite dnf fics, ranging from quick one shots to 100k+ word monstrosities that devour the storage on my computer, forever incomplete masterpieces to ongoing works of art, you get the idea. i provided links for each fic/series for your reading pleasure. there will be no smutty/nsfw fics on this list, that’s just not my vibe lmao. this list goes in no particular order, and i’ll update it from time to time when i feel like it. now, without further ado, let us begin.

Heat Waves (complete) by tbhyourelame

(wtf else did you expect, looking at a dnf rec list?) amazingly well written, and while it’s not my favorite dnf fic it’s damn near close. in the midst of a brutal heatwave, a suffering dream comes to terms with the fact that he is desperately in love with his best friend. everything i could say about this fic has already been said by nearly everyone who’s read it, so if you haven’t yet caved into the hype, just go for it. you won’t be disappointed.

Gonna be around (completed) by georgescatcafe

(mc irl) my favorite dnf oneshot to date. just read it, i don’t wanna spoil for you :)

Inferno in the Sky (ongoing)by zairielon

(star wars au) an ongoing star wars au currently clocking in at almost 200k words. need I say more? everything about it absolutely slaps, each chapter is amazingly written, and it’s just good. also, can we just appreciate dream and tubbos dynamic in here? 10/10, amazing, must protecc. oh right, a summary: george, an exiled padawan turned engineer, must return to the jedi temple after attacks on it from an unknown assailant threaten the safety of himself and the other jedi.

Like Magic (ongoing) by KangarooKen, NotGra55 (Gra55)

(harry potter au) the unofficial official dnf harry potter au. we watch the young unlikely wizard pair grow up together throughout their years at hogwarts as they battle good old fashioned wizard racism. beautifully written, incredibly fun and suspenseful, and just an overall blast and a half.

GeorgeNotFound, Son of Poseidon, and the League of Minor Gods (ongoing) by Clichewho_69, Cygnvs, Trash_Kinggg

(percy jackson au) percy jackson au? check. “road trip” (technically quest but u get what i mean)? check. enemies to friends to lovers? check. this fic follows the plot of the lightning theif (albeit loosely), but everything is explained enough where you don’t have to read percy jackson to understand what’s going on. basically after moving to the usa, george gets taken to camp halfblood where he learns that a) gods exist. b) he’s the son of poseidon and c) he needs to prove that he didn’t steal zeus’s master bolt.

Protected (completed) by aenqua

(royalty/camelot au) my favorite piece of dnf media of all time. dubbed the official dnf camelot au, where dream is the heir to the throne and george is a servants son with a secret that couldp get him killed. these childhood friends grow up together and learn trust, love, and acceptance. (that summary did not justice to the masterpiece that is this fic) here’s the directors cut

The Hunter (completed) by HederEgo

(mc irl) a choose your own adventure fic with 13 different endings, where dream the hunter must kill george and stop him from beater the ender dragon. enough said.

The official dream team cowboy AU (series)(ongoing) by antsu_in_my_pantsu

(cowboy au) cowboys and outlaws horses and shit. and the big gay. it’s a cowboy au, what else did you expect? fucking yee haw (all seriousness this is a great read, i loved it so so so so much and i can’t wait for the final chapter to release).

This is a Drista moment, let's just accept it (completed) by Qekyo

dnf fic from drista pov. considering its unique perspective, it’s perfectly done. beautifully showcases a sibling relationship through drista and her memories/moments with dream, and it just works, y’a know? also drista supremacy.

Dear Dream (completed) by Qekyo

(wwii au) i don’t cry when watching/reading anything sad. translation: i’m a heartless bitch. however, this fic is the only exception. it caused me to cry so hard my mom walked in my room and asked if i was ok. ‘nuff said.

TECHNOlogical Wingman (completed) by Closeted_Bookworm

techno is the autocorrect ai on dreams phone, and he gains sentience. interesting concept, and the author fucking nailed it. great fic.

It Was Only a Fic (ongoing) by imagineitdear

dream starts reading a dnf fanfic (we’ve all been there buddy).

Teacher’s Pet (ongoing) by niyuha

(teacher au) in which dream is a high school english teacher and george is the new comp sci teacher in room 297.

Saltwater Secrets (ongoing) by earlgay_milktea

(mermaid/high school au) a great example of the shear amount of variety in fics this fandom has to offer. when i started reading dnf fics i would have never thought i’d find one about a mermaid george hopelessly crushing on his human friend, who happens to be his schools star swimmer. yet here i am, and i am far from disappointed.

Smash My Heart (incomplete) by dontrollthedice

george and sapnap are commentators for duper smash brothers tournaments, and george develops a crush on an up and coming smash streamer named dream.

roleplaying in the dark is harder than it seems (completed) by Alienu

laser tag. 10/10

solar system (completed) by quartzfia

(mc irl) george vists dream in pandora’s vault.

Ramblings of a Lunatic (completed) by jungkooksfic

ahh communicating through a notebook left on a shelf in a bookstore- what a perfect way to start a relationship.

Paint me like your French Girls (It's Charcoal, Actually) (completed) by Turtle_ier

(artist au) george is an art student, and dream is a model.

00:00:00 (completed) by isleofdreams

(soulmate au) 00:00:00 is the moment you meet your soulmate, as indicated but the clock ticking down on your wrist until the moment you meet. i’m not a fan of soulmate aus; this fic is the exception.

Blue Skies Smilin' At Me (completed) by kivy

(artist au) i don’t usually cry while reading stuff, but this brought me damn near close. george is a painting conservator and chats it is with the ghost of the artist if the painting he is working on. they fall in a love.

Current Location (incomplete) by hendollana

(influencer au) george simps for a hot american instagram model. who knew he’d actually follow back?

The Withering (series) (series ongoing, 1 work completed) by App1e_Juice

(mc irl) lore and world building and fight scenes and everything i crave. what’s not to love? something starts making the plants and crops around dreams village wither, and must team up with new friends to find the cause of the mysterious disease plaguing the land.

Minecraft, But You Can't Leave (complete) by facadecake

(mc irl) dream and george are sucked into their own private minecraft world together and must beat the game to escape.

Free The Game, Beat the End (incomplete) by goatgoatwasfound

(mc irl) a glitch in minecraft causes thousands of players from around the world to be trapped inside minecraft, with only one way of escape- beating the ender dragon. first dnf fic i ever read, and it’s still 10/10 for me.

Why don't you come a little closer? (completed) by lifeofandoms

george gets stood up by a date, and Dream pretends he’s the date to save george from the embarrassment. simply adorable.

lightning bug (completed) by saintachesP

(band au) while on tour, dream realizes his feeling for george.

Hold me closer (completed) by Treesofmyheart

(mc irl/dsmp) i just,, really like this trope.

Dizzy on caffeine (completed) by GleamingGreenGoggles

(coffee shop au) best dnf coffeeshop au i’ve read. periodt.

living a life of crime isn’t always easy (series) (completed) by itisjosh

(mafia/assassin au) stockholm syndrome except it’s not weird.

Inhibitions Make Interesting Situations (completed) by Ship_On_The_Sea

i pissed myself laughing. it’s just a dream and george being hilariously dense, flustered idiots. serotonin central.

thy eternal summer shall not fade (completed) by gracequills

(high school au) that moment when you recite shakespeare to your crush in your ap lit class instead of confessing (hate it when that happens).

All is Fair in love and Football (ongoing) by graciegirl2001

(college au) #1 favorite college au. in which george is a cheerleader, and dream is the football teams rising star player. this one gets extra points because of the amazing karlnap moments sprinkled throughout. *chefs kisses air*

online love (completed) by andbutso

(high school au) online classes go zoooooooom

Can’t help falling (completed) by isleofdreams

dream re-learns the guitar to sing to george on his birthday. beautiful. fluffy. amazing

dance in the rain and my arms (completed) by lazy_kitkat

george is a rain god, and dream is a wind god

Weather Boy (completed) by DaintyDiizzle

wouldn't you like to know, weather boy? (where dream can control the rain)

The color orange (completed) by anon

(mc irl) dream describes the colors of a sunset

Family Mode (completed)by Strawberry_flavoured_tears

they’re dads :,)

Breathing Room (incomplete) by papercranes

(band an) an amazing band au. the mad lad author wrote original songs for each chapter. above and beyond, mad props :). unfortunately, it’s incomplete

Piece of Clay (completed) by carbonbrine

(artist au) george is a sculptor and his sculpture comes to life- but oh no he’s hot.

Try (completed) by Not4typicalwriter

(royalty au) george must choose a suitor, but none of them are up to dream, his head knights, standards. or dream is hella jelly. also protective dream is perfect

When the Roses Bloom (completed) by HederEgo

(royalty au) close second for my favorite fic. go to royalty au for a quick serotonin bost. it’s all fluff and flowers and crushes, and i love it. criminally underrated.

Heavenstruck (ongoing) by dontrollthedice

george is dreams guardian angel, and dream want to find out more about him and his past life. bittersweet :,)

Bang and Burn (completed) by App1e_Juice

(spy au) george accidentally falls for target number 1 on sapnap’s secret agency’s hit list. this ones great, i love me a spy au :)

Can I get a uhh… (completed) by lemonskies

dream keeps pulling up to the drive through mcdonald’s that george works at drunk.

Pretty Stranger (completed) by anon

when looking for dream in the terminal, george sees a cute guy and decides to flirt.

Take my Hand (completed) by latinbias

(royalty au) another royalty au? poggers. surprise twists? double poggers. love this a lot.

seconds, minutes, hours, lifetimes (complete) by meridies

ROAD TRIP ROAD TRIP ROAD TRIP ROAD TRIP *inhales to compose herself* roadtrip au. unrequited love, ignored feelings, longing, pining, you know the drill. absolutely love this one, its the best roadtrip au i have ever read, in any fandom. (maybe cause i identify with it a little too much, but thats not important. whats important is that you read this fic. right now. im waiting).

Message redacted (complete) by justyouraverageloser

(text fic) dream asks for a girls number and realises hes been given the wrong number. however, an unexpected relationship starts to form between him and the stranger on the other end of the line.

the waves (completed) by anon

(mc irl) this fic was written by the same anon who wrote the color orange, which is up there on my fav dnf oneshot list. dream and george know they have a higher purpose. they don’t know where they came from, or why they are seemingly the only humans in the world, or how they feel about eachother, or even where the skeletons come from, but they are sure of one thing: they have to beat a dragon.

The Dream Doll (completed) by PeppDream (Pep_Pizza)

(voodoo i guess) i’m a real big fan of fics with really out there or unique concepts, so naturally this one makes the cut! i really liked it, it’s really sweet and made me think a lot about what matters to me in the world. george finds a strange doll in an antique shop, and would really like to just stuff it in a drawer and forget about it. sadly (?), the doll has other plans.

last updated February 6th, 2021

[wroteclassicaly]

Waves of Blue (Andy Dolan x Reader)

Warnings: Language, smut, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, rough sex, hair pulling, face slapping, slight choking, mentions of drug usage, & angst.

A/N : AAAAAAHHHHH! I have found the post that teaches you how to add a read more on mobile! Shoutout to the person who told me about that! You know who you are! ^_^ Anyways, I am so gonna be posting more, even if it’s harder because I have to write the fics on my phone, versus my laptop, lol. I stumbled across the song Waves of Blue by Majid Jordan, and my ass was emotional af (I have included some of the lyrics here in blue!) I obviously don’t own the song/lyrics!

The song was the kick one of my drafts needed for extra inspiration! And so, I bring you the start of this mini fic! It won’t be very many chapters. And I will probably re-visit for a prequel, to write out how the reader and Andy first hooked up. But I wanted to try something different and start my fic with their relationship already ongoing. Hopefully it doesn’t suck, haha.?

I haven’t felt this inspired for a Cody character since Michael Langdon! I adore Andy’s traumatic, cocky, angsty, hot mess ass! And I really wanna explore the creativity he’s bringing me! Lemme know what y’all think? And give the song a listen - I’m in in love with it!

Forgive me if there’s some mistakes, loves! I’m nervous about how I’ve written Andy, and how the smut is. Hope y’all enjoy anyways!

:)

~*~

The rain is a glittering array of shimmering moisture as its presence is pouring down on the roof of your apartment. Your knees are knocked tightly together, jean fabric digging into flesh. Your phone is perched face down atop your legs, vibrating messages you don’t care to read. They’re not the ones that you want to see. You tilt your head back, the tears redirecting themselves down the sides of your cheeks. You turn your gazing direction to that silk robe atop your bed - a reminder.

“It’s just a fling, love.”

But it can’t be, can it?

You have to laugh at yourself. Isn’t this what every girl asks themselves when they’re dumped? Rare is an exception who steals the other person’s heart and changes that exterior they carry. Your phone vibrates again and that raging anger to match the ruby red color on his robe that rests on your bedroom sheets - it charges your energy like a violent strike of lightening! Your hand launches your phone into the hallway outside your bedroom door before you can stop yourself.

“There’s your fucking fling, dumbass Andy Dolan!”

You try to hum to fight off the incoming intrusive thoughts, to ignore your ringing phone in the distance, but it’s to no avail. You’re getting more overwhelmed with the pain by every agonizing second. Your fists clench into the leather armrests below. It’s too much, you can’t bear another second of this shit. It doesn’t matter that it’s raining, it doesn’t matter that you have over fifteen unanswered recent calls from Andy since you threw your phone - unbeknownst to you.

You snatch the stupid silk robe from its place and begin your knowing journey with the excruciatingly expensive item, having already made up your mind. A quick removal of your keys from the hooks beside your front room door and your bare feet seem to lead you - heart first - into the downpour. Your clothing is soaked the instant you step outside. Mumbling all the way to your SUV and clutching Andy’s silk garment becomes your saving grace to help anchor your focus. If one can be focused in bare feet during a thunderstorm, erratically throwing her car into reverse.

The drive to his place of privacy - his sanctuary - the cold place you once used to help him warm. It doesn’t take you long. With your tires grinding against soaking asphalt, country beach roads whipping past you, and your angry windshield wipers struggling to keep up with your car’s pace - Andy’s gates come into your sights. You’re trembling, too upset and geared to go for a turn around now. Andy didn’t change the security, so you let yourself in, abandoning your car just inside, doors open and interior carelessly being soaked.

It doesn’t matter. I just have to tell him this.

That’s your mantra for continuous approach. You round the long expanse of beautiful greenery, waves crashing violently in the distance, a love affair to collide with this storm. Your simple outfit of blue jeans and a baby blue tank top are beyond recognition, weighted down by the sopping wet summer. The shivering begins to thrum along to an invisible, but very present humming inside you. It’s that feeling, the one you know all too well.

Andy Dolan.

Like when you first met, you begin to tremble, letting your limbs move you accordingly. Making sense is last on the priority list. Normally, you would have a thousand conversational scenarios laid out, but that’s not the case. Rushed on purely raw need to tell him - no - inform him, that is what is in charge here. The soft grass is squishy between your toes, a tickle from each freshly mowed blade, water in the distance smelling like salt and flowing freedom.

Every sense is heightened for you right now. Your limbs are heavy, yet your footfalls are light, carrying you with a quick grace. You don’t bother with the front door, opting for his usual back door hang out. It’s a few more minutes before your destination is reached. That’s when you hear him screaming, his voice in high distress, hard and rough against the accent. Your chest heaves to cage hammering heartbeats that you can’t keep up with.

“Motherfucking ANSWER ME!” He shouts, ripping the phone from his ear to redial.

You rolls your eyes, assuming it’s a dealer, or whomever he would rather be with than you. After all, he’s the one who said he just needed an ideal situation, not a relationship.

“Y/N... come on, don’t be a fucking cunt! I need to tell you something, please!”

Almost on cue the song drops loud on his fancy speakers in the house, freezing you to your spot.

I wanna hold you close

Don't wanna let you go

Be with you night and day

'Cause I've been feeling so low

Don't have to ask me twice

You really take me there

I wanna touch your light

I wanna breathe in your air

Andy angrily taps at his phone again, almost growling, reminding you of a wild animal. That’s when you’re snapped into your remaining senses, moving up and onto his deck, standing just feet from him. It takes him a few seconds to look up and see you through the rain. You can’t bring yourself to go any closer, afraid to let go right away. That’s how it is with Andy, you always give in.

You cut him off before he even gets a chance.

“Fuck you, Andy.”

Damn, was that really what you worked up the courage to dangerously drive yourself here to confess?

His lips purse a popping a noise, eyes widening in surprise at your word choices.

“I really fucking hate you.” Is what you give him, finding it easier to take steps now.

He still doesn’t speak as you approach, almost as if he’s recoiling. That wild animal within Andy Dolan. He’s not used to this. You can barely see through the rain, feeling like a moron. The movies make it look so dramatic, but you feel like you’re a wet dog on the verge of catching a cold.

It does good at numbing you though, almost shielding you from those haunting blue eyes. You swipe a hand across your face to clear your vision, and take that final step onto the deck with him, now just on the other side of where he stands in the doorway. That’s when he decides to speak, his voice softer than you’ve heard. It echoes his exhaustion, his surprise.

“You’re not the only one that feels that way, Y/N.”

You shake your head in disbelief, both of you not daring to make that closing gap. You would douse his body with yours; wet and cold. You’d be lying if you denied the shiver that attacked you, drawing your body in like a magnet - helpless to its every move.

“Don’t give me this kicked puppy front. We’re all human beings, Andy. And I didn’t fucking deserve you cutting your baggage open and just... dumping out whatever you felt like on me and then letting me go.”

Fuck.

He inhales sharply, head tilting in this sadness you seem to understand within the moment. It steals your breath, a pain punching your ribcage, causing your heartbeat to skip a few. Your jaw twitches as you turn away to gather your bearings, starting back down into the yard.

Why the fuck did I come here?

I'll be holding you tight

When the night is through

Andy takes a deep inhalation behind you and that catches you, dragging you right back. Before you know which end is up you’re turning back around and striding across the pool deck and right into your former lover. Andy meets you in the harsh rains, his hands cupping your neck so possessively, that you can’t remember a time where this hot mess of a man wasn’t bull dozing your life apart. You grasp his face in your palms, that unshaven stubble prickling your flesh. Your mouth meets his, his phone becoming ruined and forgotten as he lets it fall to the ground beside him.

His strong arms path down to encircle your waist, pulling you in from the weather, bunching your t-shirt up until it’s pooling around your tattered bra. You raise your arms to help him discard it, the heavy wet noise it makes when it collides with a nearby pool chair is enough to make Andy gain his surroundings.

“Stop, stop. Are you fucking high?” He asks you, a cautious pause.

You shake your head. “Aren’t you?”

This is when he scares you with a solemn silence you weren’t aware he could possess.

“Andy...” You push your fingers through his damp curls.

“No, I’m not. I was just about to... when you didn’t answer.”

Almost as if he can’t take revealing that bit of truth, he thumbs a bra strap down your shoulder - deliberately slow. Your skin stings with the line of goosebumps that it brings, your own hands struggling to push that stupid ass identical robe off his broad chest.

“I should fucking rip this.” You say, causing a smile to come from him.

“Rip it and I’ll put you on your knees.”

“Has that ever stopped you before?” A challenging look presses your features, but Andy intercepts, wrapping your hair around his fist and pulling your hair back. You feel the ache crack from the tips of your toes, hot wired into your cunt - direct express.

“You need more marks from me.” His mouth caresses your jawline, stubble catching the underside when his lips find your neck, a stimulation that you have become accustomed to craving.

His teeth bite down, a few seconds more where you feel him cleaning his evidence with a light set of kisses.

“There we go.” He scrapes his milky white teeth across your ear with a whisper so hot that you bow into him; knees weak.

Your bra is the next thing to fall somewhere, your jeans following. Andy doesn’t wait for you to even kick them off, his fingers sliding into your lace panties to see how much you still need him. He licks his lips, eyes closing in pleasure, a familiar stroking rhythm unraveling from the tips of his fingers.

“Shit, that’s a good girl. Even when you hate me you still need me, don’t you?”

The cockiness makes your wrist snap and palm collide with his cheek. You’re riled up, he’s riled up. Something you know he likes. “Like you fucking needed that?” Is your retort.

He groans out, a honey wet dip in his tone. “Only you can fucking touch me like that, Y/N.”

Lightening flashes through the darkened midnight skies, rain pounding across the surface of the pool to create a special beat. Andy finds your mouth in desperation once more, working your underwear down in a frustrated jerk. His fingers part your slick folds and ease into you without any warning. You look down to watch his strong forearm flex in its working marathon, back and forth between your thighs.

We'll be riding the tide in the sky so alive

On waves of blue (waves of blue)

I'm in love with the thought of being in love

In love with you (love with you)

You can bring me along for the rest of your life

If you wanted to (wanted to)

You let go and give into him, not daring to question why you came here in the first place. You know why. Andy has stopped his touches, watching you with that lowered stare he gives. His body is glowing from the neon lighting his home harbors, his creamy skin glistening with rain water. He’s hard through those silk pants, nothing left to the imagination.

“Take them off. Now.” You command him.

He can’t hide the greedy smirk that appears on his lips, not taking his eyes off you as his pants and boxers disappear in one go. He is gloriously hard and thick. You almost want to laugh at your cliche salivating tongue. Andy brushes your wet hair off your temple, his hands moving down your body in a tapping massage - reaching their target to hook behind your thighs.

He lifts you with ease, your legs wrapping around his waist. He’s panting rapidly, nosing your neck. He grips himself, teasingly stroking your cunt to gather your arousal. You stutter on an exhale, unable to breathe out properly. It’s jagged and broken, much like your rationality.

You stop him when he attempts to press inside you. “Tell me again,” You plead. He looks at you in confusion. “Say I’m just a fling.” You finish.

“Y/N...” He struggles.

“Before you fuck me, I want you to tell me what I mean to you, Andy.”

It’s hard not to just fucking forget this and let go, let him take you, both of you get what you want and not have to deal with anything else. But you need to hear it. You want to know how much you’re not worth anything to him. You need to hear it more than you need to find out how much you mean to him. That’s what you came here for...

His enriching ocean eyes are glossy with desire, with something else you can’t place. They pin you into a set of shakes. You grip the hair at his neck’s nape.

“Everything.” He says it all at once, bringing your hand down atop his to help him line up, as he fucks himself into your cunt, stretching you with that delicious drowning burn.

You're no good for me

You got what I need

I just wanna be with you

You cry out, vision sprinkled with an array of floating shapes. Andy drives you against the door, hips slamming so hard you know you’ll be bruised before the night is through. You keep one arm around his neck, lowering the other to encourage him to hurt you deeper, nails clawing at his lower back, shredding the skin. His face stays buried in your neck, stubble adding to each motion he makes inside. You cling tight, using all your strength.

It’s slippery, it’s unstable, you can barely hold onto one another, but you manage. And that moment when you finally can’t keep yourself up, Andy lets you slide down, bringing you into the floor of the doorway, lifting your legs onto his shoulders, pressing in so hard you can’t contain the tears that roll from the corner of your eyes, coasting. He’s familiarized himself with how you come undone, even before you knew.

“You’re drenching my cock, baby. You need to let it go?”

You don’t answer, causing him to grip your throat.

“When I ask you something I expect an answer. You remember how this works, don’t you?”

“Fuck, yes! Please, Andy!” You don’t pride yourself now.

He guides a hand across you, as if he’s tuning a fine instrument. Your stomach quivers with a passing of his fingertips, engaging in a butterfly filled stomach clench. You’re tensing up, anticipating. Desiring.

“Fucking do it! Show me how much you still need this...” He trails off, dropping to rest his chest against your breasts.

“Even if you don’t need me.” It’s a counter thought to your need to hear him say he doesn’t want you.

“I’ll always need you.” You push him onto his back with newfound strength, and pin his hands above his head, your hips bouncing so hard that you can feel his firm structure beneath. That’s right, this is exactly what you have to have.

He’s damn near whining now, squeezing your fingers tightly. “Y/N.”

It’s a warning you don’t need. You lean down to steal a kiss, leaving him further winded, nudging his nose with your own, breasts smashed to between you two. Andy gives a silent agreement, dropping a hand down to quickly rub your clit. Your heartbeat is so out of control that you can’t hear anything but your own cries as you cum all over Andy’s cock. He follows with you, holding himself, keeping you there.

He’s shaking when it’s over. You can’t find coherent speech capabilities.

I'll be holding you tight

I'll wait this through

You stay resting on top of him, still keeping him inside. You don’t know what’s going to happen, but you know that there’s no going back now.

This is just another beginning...

~*~

Tagging: @dark-mei-rose @confettucini @lovelylangdonx

Lemme know if y’all wanna be added to the tag list?!!!!

[h2bakugou]

hi! may i request a scenario where bakugo is helping his s/o with homework, and he keeps yelling at her for not focusing, and she gets really self conscious/upset bc she has ADHD and can’t help getting distracted? maybe he feels bad after and the next day he brings her to his room to help her again and does it much more softly, and cooks up her favorite meal as an apology for yelling at her before? thank you!! (*´꒳`*)

a/n: hi love! of course!! i apologize if i get some things wrong, please feel free to correct me, i used google for a little bit of help with getting things accurate!

summary: during a study session with bakugou, he gets onto you for losing focus, but he eventually finds out that you have ADHD and he comes up to you to apologize.

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: swearing, fluff, a smidge of angst

wordcount: 1.4k

»»————-　★　————-««

»»————-　★　————-««

“Can you please focus? You’re not going to learn anything if you keep spacing out.” Bakugou groaned, continuing to scribble down notes into his notebook neatly. 

You were trying to focus. Keyword, trying. Little things kept earning your focus, like the sound the clock was making, the small ticking noise happening every second. 

You wiggled your pencil between your fingers, anxiously re-reading over the question. You’d read it a thousand times it seemed. It was getting any easier to understand.

You were bored and Bakugou yelling at you wasn’t helping.

“Yeah, sorry.” You said quietly, trying to ignore the urge to yell at him back. You couldn’t help that you were losing focus. Maybe if this history worksheet was a bit less wordy it’d be okay.

But before you could re-read the question for the thousandth and second time, you took interest in Bakugou’s collection of All Might figures, which you had been sworn to secrecy about.

Bakugou’s eye twitched as he noticed your head moved and your eyes moved away from the paper. He let out a low growl and slammed his hands onto the table.

“Pay attention! It’s not that hard!” Bakugou was losing his patience with you. Everything was fine until it came to your study sessions. He’d never been this angry with you before. But you were just wasting his time if you weren’t going to pay attention.

Your head snapped back to Bakugou, a feeling of guilt washing over you.

“What did you get for number five.” Bakugou asked monotonously.

“Uh...” You looked down at your paper. On the thousandth and third time, it seemed to click.

“Oh well, it’s obvious the guy was a controlling leader so his people killed him.” You answered, a small feeling of relief washing over you. Bakugou sighed and accepted your short response.

“Was that so hard?” Bakugou mumbled. You looked down at your lap and began moving your leg. Sitting criss-cross, your right leg was now moving up and down.

You went back to wiggling your pencil and reading the next question.

You got lost in your train of thought to the point you didn’t hear Bakugou yelling at you again.

“Focus!” Bakugou slammed his hands down on the table again. But this was enough to make you snap out of it and bring tears to your eyes.

“I-I’m sorry.” You apologized. Bakugou softened slightly when he noticed a tear roll down your cheek.

“I’m sorry I can’t fucking help I can’t focus.” You groaned, grabbing your things and standing up.

“Hey wait-”

“No. Go spend your time with someone useful who can pay attention.” You slammed his door on your way out.

You made it back to your dorm and sat on your bed. You’d struggled with ADHD for as long as you could remember. Focusing in school was hard, paying attention was hard. You’d even gotten in trouble for trying to control your fidgeting.

You’d always end up moving a leg, or a pencil in your fingers. But hearing all that stuff from Bakugou, the guy you liked, your boyfriend.

It hurt on a whole other level.

- - -

“How’d your study session with (y/n) go?” Kaminari asked, devouring another bite of his food.

“She kept losing focus. It was annoying.” Bakugou left out the fact that he’d made you upset. He didn’t think it was really anyone’s business what happened between you and him behind closed doors.

Especially not Kaminari.

“Oh dude, that’s a little harsh don’t ya think?” Kirishima chimed in. Bakugou raised his eyebrow and rolled his eyes.

“What was I supposed to do?!” Bakugou groaned.

“Did you yell at her for not paying attention?” Mina asked, worry filling on the rest of the Bakusquad’s faces.

“Yeah? I’m not gonna waste my time for her to just sit and stare at walls and shit.” Bakugou was getting fed up with all these questions.

“Bro.” Sero looked upset.

“That’s a little messed up.” Kaminari added. Bakugou was now utterly confused.

“What am I missing!?” Bakugou raised his voice. He felt tense. Something wasn’t right.

“She has ADHD dude.” Kaminari spoke.

Bakugou’s face drained of color.

He’d royally screwed up.

“Don’t tell me you-”

“I didn’t know.” Bakugou mumbled.

“You owe her an apology.” Mina stated, going into mom mode. Bakugou nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets, his appetite had disappeared.

“It’ll be alright, you didn’t know, but you still talk to her about it, and apologize.”

“Yeah, you messed up big time bro.”

“Sero!”

“Sorry.”

- - -

Bakugou knocked on the door to your dorm. When it pulled back and he saw you, he engulfed you in a hug.

“I’m sorry.” Bakugou apologized. You were confused, but eventually, you connected the dots and assumed he was apologizing for before, during your study session.

“It’s fine-”

“It’s not. Even though I didn’t know, I shouldn't have raised my voice at you like that. I hate seeing you cry.” Bakugou said softly. This side of him was rare. You’d only ever seen him like this once before.

“I thought you knew, I figured Kaminari would’ve told you as soon as he figured it out.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Bakugou asked. You didn’t have an answer to that. It never crossed your mind, especially since Kaminari had found out pretty early on, it made sense that Kami would have told Bakugou.

“I assumed Kaminari would’ve told you, he found out pretty early on, like the second week of school. You wouldn’t even look at me then.” You laughed.

Bakugou remembered. He wouldn’t even talk to you, let alone be caught looking at you. Until the two of you got paired up for a project and Bakugou fell head over heels for you.

“Let me make it up to you. We can study again tomorrow, and-”

“Okay.” You agreed. You didn’t let him finish, instead, you pulled him in for a kiss.

- - -

When you got to your study session with Bakugou, he had prepared your favorite food. You smiled and didn’t hesitate in taking a bite of the yummy food.

“Did you make this?” You questioned, your eyes filled with joy.

“Yeah. I had stupid IcyHot help me with the recipe. It’s his sister’s.” Bakugou grumbled. You giggled and raised a piece for Bakugou to try.

“Are you feeding me?” Bakugou asked. You nodded. He opened his mouth a tried a bite.

It was good. Bakugou was proud of himself. He assumed you must be really happy about it too.

“Alright let’s get this done!” You said happily.

You and Bakugou began your session. Bakugou paid close attention to you, making sure you were staying on track. 

You began to lose focus again. You could feel his eyes on you.

“We can take a break if you need too.” Bakugou said calmly. You looked up, a small smile on your lips.

“O-Okay.” You blushed. He was being nicer. Bakugou and you stood up, taking a quick break to stretch and get a sip of water. You sat back down, this time beside Bakugou instead of in front of him.

“Changing up on me now?” He chuckled. You smiled and looked at his worksheet before your own.

“Okay let’s read this passage. You start and I’ll finish.” Bakugou awaited your response. You gave him a nod and began reading the long passage for your literature class.

About halfway through you could feel yourself beginning to fidget. Bakugou’s thumb rubbed your leg, tracing small shaped into the fabric of your pants. While you still fidgeted, you felt at ease, calm.

You stopped after the sixth paragraph, allowing Bakugou to take over. Listening to Bakugou read was nice. His voice sounded good, and it was funny when he pronounced big words wrong. 

“It’s pronounced-”

“Are you listening to me reading or how I’m saying words?” Bakugou raised an eyebrow.

“Both...” You blushed. Bakugou leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“We’re almost done and then we can watch a movie.” Bakugou whispered in your ear.

- - -

The study session was over before you knew it. And as Bakugou had said, the two of you watched a movie in his room, cuddled up beside each other on his bed.

You snuggled under his All Might blanket, the one you had gotten him for Christmas that he loved but would never admit.

“I love you.” You said softly. Bakugou smiled, unbeknownst to you.

“I love you too, you nerd.”

»»————-　★　————-««

masterlist

[dameronology]

the one with the early morning (poe x reader)

summary: you’re the opposite of the morning person - a grumpy, bleary-eyed mess with a caffeine addiction. it’s a good thing that poe dameron really loves you. 

i love domestic fics and i especially love them with poe so this is fluff without plot oops 

warnings: language (naturally) 

enjoy,

- val xx 

Your mornings had become a lot brighter since you began waking up in Poe Dameron’s arms. 

You were still a vehemently anti-morning person but being woken up by the Resistance pilot rather than a blaring alarm clock certainly took the edge off. You usually woke up in the same position; his bare chest pressed to your back, arms wrapped around your waist and legs tangled together. Poe’s face was usually buried in the crook of your shoulder, his curly hair tickling your neck in a sensation that simply felt natural now. 

‘Baby.’ His voice was always a little croaky first thing in the morning. ‘We gotta get up.’

‘Mmm.’ You couldn’t help but smile as he pulled a few strands of hair out your face, his warm hands brushing against your cheek. ‘I don’t think so.’

You felt Poe’s chest rumble slightly against your back as he let out a sleepy chuckle, arms giving your waist a light squeeze. ‘We have a meeting. I don’t think Leia will accept couldn’t get your ass out of bed as an excuse for being late.’

‘You love my ass.’

‘I do love your ass but right now, you need to get it into gear.’

You rolled over, face just inches away from Poe’s as your eyes met. His dark curls were slightly disheveled, sticking up in a thousand different directions. He was smiling at you sleepily - almost dreamily - as his large hand absent-mindedly combed through your hair. It was a sight that you could have basked in forever (and that was your plan, after all) and it only made you more determined to not move. If this was his attempt at trying to get you out of bed, it was one at which he was failing horribly. 

‘This mattress is my true love.’ Burying your head in his chest, you let out a small sigh. ‘We are one. We will not be separated-’

-You let out a small shriek as the pilot suddenly grabbed you, one arm worming around your waist and tearing you out from underneath the sheets. The cold air of your bedroom hit your bare skin, giving you further cause to scream and thrash around. Talk about a nasty wake-up call. 

‘Poe Dameron!’ You snapped, scowling as he placed you on the floor. ‘That was rude-’

‘- We’re gonna be late.’ He pressed a kiss to your nose, and your frown momentarily evaporated. ‘And I think you’ll find that I am your one true love, not that mattress.’

‘You'll pay for that.’ You pointed at him, walking backwards as you retreated to the refresher. ‘Mark my words, Dameron.’

‘I look forward to it.’

You gave him one last glare before spinning around and retreating into your little en-suite. Above all, you were simply grateful that Poe had convinced you to shower with him the night before so that you’d have more time this morning - though you suspected he might have had an ulterior motive. Either way, it gave you an extra twenty minutes to lull around and whine. 

Poe - now in his work clothes - soon joined you. He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek as he passed, forcing a pile of clothes into your hands. The button up shirt that he’d handed you was actually his, something that caused you to smile slightly despite your grouchiness. 

You’d come to learn in recent months that Poe Dameron expressed his love for you through menial tasks and tiny actions. He was capable of grand gestures of love but if you read between the lines, it was easy to see that his feelings for you were clear and present every day; he remembered exactly how you liked your caff and he always picked the anchovies off of your pizza because he knew you hated them. He’d bring you dinner if you were working late and you’d sometimes drift off on the sofa and wake up to find he’d put a blanket over you. 

He saved your ass both on missions and in everyday life. You were forever grateful for your flyboy. 

After finishing up getting ready, you exited the refresher only to be met by Poe shouting. He was waist deep into your wardrobe, rifling through to try and find something. 

‘Head’s up!’ He yelled. A second later, one of your boots came flying towards you. You ducked just in time, narrowly missing the second one as it hit the wall behind you. ‘Why do you always shove your shoes so far to the back of the closet?’

‘Why do you toss them across the room?’ You shot back, tugging them both on. 

‘I said head’s up.’ Poe replied. 

‘Saying head’s up when it’s already flying towards my face doesn’t do much.’ You couldn’t help but smile. 

You leant up to press a soft kiss to Poe’s lips, smiling against him as he wrapped an arm around your waist. Okay - there were some moments in the morning that you enjoyed. 

‘You got everything?’ Poe asked. ‘Mission report? Files? Keys?’

‘Yup - check, check and check.’ You replied. ‘You got Beebs?’

The beeping of the BB-unit beside your feet quickly answered your question, circling the two of you as he bumbled on about early is on time, on time is late. Before meeting the little droid, you’d had no idea that they were capable of being such sticklers for the rules, sometimes to the point of annoyance - not that you were mentioning names. 

(Threepio). 

‘In that case,’ Poe intertwined his fingers with yours, ‘we should head out before you try and climb back into bed.’

He pulled you out of the room and down the corridor, winding an arm around your shoulder. He still kept your fingers intertwined, thumb gently ghosting the back of your hand as you walked alongside each other. None of your colleagues blinked an eye at the displays of affection; everyone knew that Poe was a physically affectionate guy. It was pretty common to find him attached to Snap like a clingy sloth every-time they drank or falling asleep on Finn’s shoulder in a meeting. 

Once you reached the mess hall, Poe pulled you inside. There were a few people sitting around eating breakfast, drinking cups of caff and covering the Resistance-issued oatmeal in sugar to try and make it edible. 

‘Hey guys.’ Finn smiled at you when your eyes met. You took a seat opposite him at the table whilst Poe went off to get coffee.

 Rey was next to your Finn, Threepio on her other side. You didn’t bother to ask why a droid was there, given that he couldn’t eat, but he’d assimilated himself into the human race so well that you often forgot he wasn’t one of you.

‘Morning,’ you rubbed your eyes, dropping your head against the cold metal of the table. 

‘Late night?’ Finn asked, waggling his eyebrows. ‘Is Poe keeping you up?’

‘The opposite, actually.’ You grumbled. ‘He practically kicked me out of bed this morning.’ 

Poe was probably the only person in the whole base - nay, the whole galaxy - who could do such a thing and get away with it. It was a widely-accepted fact across the Resistance that the wise thing to do in the morning was to avoid you. Nobody was accusing you of being unfriendly, unsociable and as dangerous as a gundark nest but Leia had definitely used those exact words in that exact order. 

‘Today won’t be too long.’ Rey offered words of comfort. ‘Just a few meetings, a few briefings and you can return to your bed.’

‘Actually,’ Threepio held his finger in the air, head tilting between the two of you. ‘Today is supposed to run until at least 6PM.  According to my schedule-’

‘- Threepio.’ Finn warned. ‘I wouldn’t-’

‘- and then tomorrow we have an even earlier start!’ The droid continued. 

‘You should listen to Finn.’ You lifted your head from the table, thinning your eyes. 

‘The agenda for next week is even more exciting.’ He continued. 

‘Read the room, Threepio!’

Before you could flip the table and launch yourself at the poor droid, Poe had re-appeared beside you, placing a cup of caff in front of you. He took the seat next to you, the feeling of his arm around your waist almost being enough to calm you down. 

‘I know that expression.’ The pilot declared. ‘It’s the Y/N needs her coffee or she’ll throttle Threepio look.’ 

‘You know me so well.’ You took the mug of caff, pressing a kiss to his stubbly cheek. 

‘That’s love.’ The pair of you raised your hands at the same time, meeting halfway in a strangely co-ordinated but not-at-all-planned high five. 

[thorne93]

History Repeats (Part 12)

Prompt: Life’s hard, right? Well throw in a not so great job, a broken heart, and chasing a pipe dream in LA. But could someone come along to make all the bad shit disappear? Or is he just another heartbreak waiting around the bend?

Warnings: language, drug addiction, alcohol addiction, angst/heartbreak, adult themes (??)

Word Count: 3612

Note: Aesthetic made by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo because she’s absolutely amazing Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo . Brainstorming from @carryonmyswansong​

**Song Inspiration: Death By A Thousand Cuts by Taylor Swift

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dating Hayden was so easy, surprisingly easy. Talking to him during dates was the most comfortable thing you’d ever done. And oddly, it just felt right to go home together but go to separate rooms. You could take things slow and simple, and yet still be around each other all the time. And Hayden was great to you. He treated you nicely, complimented you all the time, encouraged you on your newfound work. In fact, one night, you were siting on the couch, writing a new song. 

“What’s that?” Hayden asked over your shoulder. 

“A new song,” you said as you hid the notebook, shielding it with your body.

“Ah, I see. Will I get to hear it?”

“With any luck,” you hoped. “I’m hoping Trey will work with me to record this one for the EP, I think it’s really good.” 

“I’m sure it’s fantastic,” he assured as he sat beside you on the couch. 

“Actually, it’s almost done… Would you want to… read it?” you offered timidly. It was a very personal song, but it also had a lot to do with him. 

“Are you sure?” he inquired, his brows knitting together. 

You nodded. “Yeah, you actually inspired it.”

“Oh, then I definitely want to look,” he said happily as he reached towards you. He grabbed the notebook and looked at your frantic handwriting. 

Is it cool that I said all that?

Is it chill that you're in my head?

'Cause I know that it's delicate (delicate)

Is it cool that I said all that

Is it too soon to do this yet?

'Cause I know that it's delicate

Isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it?

Isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it?

Delicate 

He looked up at you and gave you the warmest smile. “I love it. You’re going to be the next top star, I swear by it.” 

You blushed and thanked him before leaning forward to kiss him deeply. 

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

By now, the two of you had had a date a week now, and things couldn't be better for you. 

Your producer, Trey, invited you to meet some members he thought should join your band. You had a good sound on the demos you’d given him, but he said he wanted to boost your vocals with the best instruments and sounds he could. That’s where another producer, a drummer, and a guitarist came in. All were looking for their next project and wanted to meet you. 

He asked you to meet at a restaurant in the city. You said you’d have to wait until after your shift, but he said he didn’t mind waiting. So you finished your shift at 11 and headed to the exclusive lounge and bar. When you got there, there was only one party in the whole place. It seemed as if the place had closed. You frowned and greeted the hostess. She showed you to the table where Trey, a woman, and a man were sitting. You sat next to the man you didn’t know on the edge. 

“Ah, Y/N, you made it,” Trey greeted as he leaned forward. 

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it. Thank you so much for waiting for me.”

“Sure thing. So this is Stacia, she’s the other producer I work with from time to time. She heard your voice and really liked it. She’s worked with some great names before and I think she has a good shot at making you the next big thing.”

“Oh, wow, such a pleasure to meet you,” you said, reaching over the table and shaking her hand. 

“And this misfit beside you is Darren,” he said with a smirk. 

You shook his hand. He was lean as all get out, wearing a white wife beater, black jeans, and a black blazer with white pin stripes. He had a purple scarf wrapped around his neck and his hair was disheveled. 

“He’s a drummer. He’s damned good and I think he’d work well with your sound. Or the sound I think we should try to go for,” Trey explained. 

“That’s great! I’d love to start right away. We can start in the morning or --”

“Woah, slow down,” Trey said with a bit of a chuckle. The rest of the table laughed too. You felt a bit embarrassed and he could tell. “No, you’re fine. You’re excited. You should be. You’ve got a great voice and I can tell you’re willing to work with us on sound and marketing and advertising, the works, right?”

“Absolutely,” you said.

“Great, good, then we’re in good shape. We can talk business tomorrow. I want to get you in a booth, maybe polish up a few of those demos you gave me. I want to see what my team can do with you, and for you. But tonight, I think we should all just chat. Get to know you, your story, what your goals are regarding music…” He waved over one of the waiters standing by. He gestured to you. “What’ll you have?”

“Oh, uh, water?” you said, unsure what you were ordering. You didn’t know if this was a dinner, or cocktails or finger foods or what.

Trey gave you a funny look. “You don’t want a cocktail? Do you not drink? You sensitive to substances?” 

You shook your head. “Oh, no, nothing like that. I just wasn’t sure if I should be drinking walk talking business…? Thought it might be a bad mix.”

He laughed and shook his head. “Don’t think of this as a business meeting. I’m your friend, Y/N. Business? Yes, both you and I should always be professional and business-like, but I think we should build this out of friendship, right? So get a drink. We all will.”

“O--Oh, okay, uh, I’ll have a screwdriver,” you said quickly. 

“There ya go. Whiskey sour,” he ordered. Stacia ordered a cosmo and Darren ordered a tequila and tonic. 

They began asking you about your dreams, aspirations, goals, where you write, how you do it, what your inspiration came from, your current job. They talked a little bit about their plans for you. 

When it was all done, you called Hayden to pick you up. You weren’t sober enough to drive on your own. He asked you how it went but after a few answers, he realized it might be better to interrogate you later.

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

You continued to meet with Trey and his team almost every day or night. He discussed the future, plans, and contracts. In just a few days, you’d cut a contract to turn your demos into a real EP. He wanted to re-record the tracks on your demo, and add two more. 

It turned out he was more than a producer, he owned that lounge you were at and a few bars. It was pretty customary for people he produced to be at them. He didn’t care one way or the other if his musicians partied, as long as they showed up to the booth on time and did their work. 

You’d been to one party at a club and met several others that were in Trey’s circle and Darren’s. Some musicians, some singers, some other music executives. It was good to meet these people, to network, but after that first night, you learned to say no to the alcohol. You thought it was better to be on your best behavior when you met all these people. 

Hayden wasn’t thrilled about you going to these events or parties, but you stressed that you needed to do it for your career. You explained you were only meeting other people that would help and once you reminded him wouldn’t be drinking, he didn’t see much wrong with it and seemed to accept it.

You were having the time of your life. You had a new, great boyfriend who treated you well. You were on your way to your dream career. Everything was more perfect than it’d ever been in your life. 

One night though, you were talking with Darren, in a booth at one of the clubs. 

“I’m so nervous. I go in to re-record my first track tomorrow,” you said, giddy with fear and excitement.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll do stellar,” he assured. “But… if you want.” He glanced around for a moment before pulling something out in a small bag. “I do have something to take the edge off.”

“Holy shit. Is that coke?” you demanded, your heart already racing. 

He nodded his head subtly. “You want a bump or not?”

“Uh, no, I’m good. I don’t… I don’t do that. I’ll be fine,” you assured, holding your hand up.

“Suit yourself,” he said with a shrug. He tapped a little on his fist, and snorted. You bobbed your head before saying you were gonna go get another drink at the bar. You avoided Darren the rest of the evening. 

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

“You ready for this?” you asked as you plopped beside him on the couch with popcorn and cokes. 

“No, absolutely not,” he informed with a laugh. 

You put in the first movie -- Star Wars: Attack of the Clones -- and pressed play. “I’m ready. I am beyond excited.” 

“Ugh, this movie… I got so much grief over this,” he confided, cringing as he stared at the screen.” 

“So? Fuck ‘em,” you said easily.

“Y/N, you’ll understand better when you’re in the music business, but it does matter what some people think about you. Having a lot of critics isn’t a good thing, I hate to break it to you.” 

“No, I know that,” you assured. “But I also know that you were unjustly criticized for this. I think you portrayed Anakin exactly how he needed to be.” 

“Really?” he asked incredulously as he shot a glance your way. 

“Uh, yeah, absolutely,” you said defiantly. “I don’t think anyone else could’ve played him any better, I swear.” 

“Thanks,” he said quietly, shooting you a half smile that made butterflies erupt inside you. He could still do that to you despite dating for a while now and living together. 

The two of you watched more of his filmography all the way to the Vanishing. During a particularly jumpy scene, you ended up nearly jumping in Hayden’s lap. Your legs were on top of his, and most of your butt had scooted over onto his lap. 

Embarrassed a little bit by your needlessly scared actions, you turned around to apologize, blushing. 

“Oh, uh sorry,” you said as you eased yourself off his lap. 

He chuckled a low, sweet laugh. “It’s fine,” he assured. 

Just as you scooted off of his lap, the two of you were face to face, your legs still on his thighs. His mouth was just a few inches from yours. You stared at him, then stared down at his lips. You slowly planted a kiss on his lips that he reciprocated by curing his hand up to your hair. Gently, he began lowering you back onto the couch before continuing to kiss your lips, your cheek, down your collarbone.

You were breathing quickly. You wondered if you were moving too fast with him, too fast since Jason. But nothing had ever felt more right. You and Hayden had so much in common, he shared the same humor, you lit up when you saw him, you still felt both incredibly comfortable around him but still got butterflies when you saw him. He lived in the country and he adored children. He understood the music business and he supported you. He believed in your dreams. No one else had ever done that for you. 

He and you saw everything the same way. He was everything you ever wanted and more. He was kind to you and sweet to you. If you’d built him yourself on paper, you couldn’t have done a better job. 

The more his mouth moved over your body, the more you wanted him closer to you. You laid down with him hovering on top of you, and before you even really realized what was happening, you two were a sweaty heap on top of each other.

You spent the night chasing releases and exploring each other physically. You gave yourself entirely to him and you didn’t look back. 

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

You didn’t tell Hayden about the drugs or the offer of them during the first meet up. It was the first of a few, actually. You had already started the re-recording, on your second track now. You typically went in before your shift at the hotel. On your days off, you and Hayden would set up a date, if he wasn’t beat from filming. 

By now, you’d been to three parties where you’d been offered drugs, and the last two times it wasn’t Darren. Everyone was cool about it though when you said no. Didn’t make you any more comfortable around them, but that was a hazard of the job.

Tonight was your tenth official date with Hayden. The two of you agreed to keep it simple since you were tired from working two jobs and he was filming for 10 hour days. Tonight’s location was a simple italian restaurant in the heart of the city. 

“So how’s the recording? I haven't heard much. Is it going well or better than you expected?” 

“It’s good,” you said, nodding. “Better than I imagined actually. I was so nervous the first day. I thought they’d rethink signing the contract. I worried they'd think I sounded like the worst thing they’d ever heard.”

He laughed slightly and said, “Oh my god. No, why would they think that?”

You shrugged. “I guess because this is too good to be true. Like, this kind of stuff doesn’t happen to me, or people like me. I’m just, I’m a nobody, and I’m being discovered by a guy who produces artists that top the charts weekly.” 

“But you’re great. This guy heard you sing in the lobby and then heard your demos and he wanted more.” 

You nodded. “Yeah, I know but still, it’s so hard to believe it’s real.” 

“I know the feeling. Believe me, it doesn't really get easier,” he informed with a smile.

“Oh, that’s so good to know,” you said, laughing. “How about you? How is filming going?”

“Really great. I really like this new project. I wish you could come on set,” he said, gesturing to you. “I think you’d have fun.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Just as you went to ask him something, a brunette woman walked up to the table. She wasn’t your waitress, so you had no idea who she was. She came up behind Hayden at first, then stopped just next to him at the table. 

He saw a figure out of his peripheral vision. He glanced over to her, then did a double-take. 

“Rachel?” he greeted, completely flabbergasted. “What--What are you doing here?” 

“I saw you, from the window, thought I’d come in and say hi,” she said before glancing at you. “And this is...?”

“Oh, sorry, uh, Y/N this is Rachel, Rachel this is Y/N.” 

You held out your hand before the name Rachel registered with you. Just as she went to shake  your hand, you remembered who she was.

His ex. 

The mother of his child. 

She shook your hand, smiling warm and friendly before she turned back to Hayden. “Could I talk to you for one second?” she requested.

“Uh, sure.” He glanced back to you before scooting away. “I’ll be right back.” 

“Yeah, I’m just gonna borrow him for one quick second,” she said. “So good to meet you.” 

“Yeah, you too,” you said, trying to hide your confusion and slight offense. 

You watched the two walk outside and they talked for a few minutes before Hayden rejoined you at the table. 

“Hey, everything okay?” you asked sweetly, putting your hand on his. 

“Yeah, fine.” He pulled his hand back and sat it in his lap. 

“Are you sure? You seem a bit rattled--”

“I said I’m fine,” he snapped. “Let’s just finish our dinner, okay?” 

Pulling away from him, you stared at him, concerned. “Oh, okay, yeah, sure.” 

The two of you finished your dinner in silence. You had tried to question him a few times, but nothing happened. When you two got home, the atmosphere had shifted. It was no longer this lovely, warm, sweet air. It felt cold, distant, tense.

“I had a good time,” you tried as you stood between the two doorways to the bedrooms. “If you want, we could watch--

“Yeah, listen I'm gonna hit the hay. I’m beat. Thanks though. Goodnight.” He barely looked at you as he shook his head while talking. He gave you a quick glance and then went inside his bedroom. 

You frowned, having no idea what you did wrong. 

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

The next day, you saw Hayden in the morning as the two of you headed into work. You were on your way to the studio and he was on his way to film. 

“Oh, hey,” you greeted him happily. “So weird about seeing Rachel last night. Are you okay?”

“Huh, yeah, I’m fine,” he said as he poured a cup of coffee in his to-go cup. 

“Oh, good. If you want to talk about it, we can.”

He nodded. “Not now. I’m running late. I’ll see you later tonight, okay?” 

“Sure thing. See you later.” You went to kiss him but he just picked up his cup, smiled slightly at you, and swept around him. You frowned after him. 

When you got home that night, it wasn’t much better. He said he was tired and went into his room, barely even looking at you. 

This stayed this way for the next few days. You spoke to him, he would excuse himself and leave. You sat next to him on the couch, he’d get up to shower or go for a run. You’d offer to have a late dinner, he’d say he had already eaten. Everything you did, he found a way to avoid you. 

Until finally, on your day off, you stopped him as he came in the door. 

“Hey, can we talk? You’ve been kind of off lately, and I just want to check in with you.” You got close to him. “You’ve barely looked at me or talked to me.”

He began chewing his lip as his gaze cast to the floor. “I don’t think we should date any more,” he said. 

The air left the room. 

“I--I-- What did you say?” you stammered, frowning. 

“Look, I’ve thought about it and I think it’s best if we just remain friends. I really like you but…” 

“But… what? You decided to get in my pants and just leave?” you wondered, anger building up inside you. “I mean, was the sex that bad?” you asked, trying to lighten the mood, but also trying to sincerely understand what happened between you two.

He shook his head and ran a hand down his face. “No, that’s not it at all. I swear. I really do like you, I just…” 

“Just what, Hayden? I deserve an explanation. We were fine. We were more than fine, or happy, so I thought. I mean, what the hell?” you demanded, completely confused. 

“I just think… Look, you and I met under some shaky circumstances. I just don’t want just to be…”

“To be what?” you pressed. 

He finally looked up and looked into your eyes. “To be each other’s rebounds,” he informed. 

You shook your head. “You’re not my rebound. You’re… you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and now you just want to throw that all away?” 

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea for us to keep dating. Rebounds often feel like they’re the best thing in the world, because it masks the pain--”

“I’m not masking shit! I thought I loved Jason, I really did. But after we broke up, I realized I just loved the idea of being with him. I got comfortable with him. I told you this. But you and I… I thought we were real, I thought we had a future.” 

“I thought we did too, but I’ve re-evaluated our situation, and I don’t think our heads are in this.”

Shaking your head, you were spinning. “I don’t understand. We were fine! Weren't we? We were having fun. I thought things were really good between us. Did I do something wrong?” 

“No, no,” he assured. “It’s nothing like that.”

“So, this is it then? You just think of me as a rebound and after you get in my pants to forget about your ex, you just want to throw me aside?” you shouted. 

“No!” He stepped forward and squeezed your shoulders. “I care a lot about you,” he started.

You wrenched out of his grasp. “Just not enough to stay with me? Hmm? It’s fine. I get it. All guys have ever done to me is use me. Get me to like them, I treat them well, just when I think it’s going great, I get dumped. Rinse, repeat. Whatever. I’m over this.” 

You stormed into your bedroom and slammed the door, turning your stereo nearly all the way up. You got ready for bed and curled up, letting the tears flow. Your chest hurt so bad from feeling this way, from feeling so… used, so betrayed. 

You were far from over this. You were far from fine. Out of everyone you’d ever been with, Hayden made the most sense. He seemed to fit you so perfectly. He fit your life so well. 

And now, he wanted out, like everyone else you ever got close to.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[mythrilhusk]

!!Kill Techno-sensei!! - Chapter Two

Words: 2,076 Chapter One (Last)  AO3 Version Chapter 3 (Next)

The class absorbs the threat, stunned, hushed. Quackity clenches his fists. "Why the fuck would you do that?" His defiance shatters the silence. 

"Because I can." Technoblade replies dismissively. "But I am here to teach, so please, open your textboo-"

"No." Quackity smirks, wearing a confidence he doesn't feel. "Why would you destroy the Earth? You're immortal, sure, but you seem like the kind of guy who's easily bored. What would you have left after your little temper tantrum?" 

One floppy ear flicks irritably. "You see, the idea is, I'd die as well." 

"If you want to die so fucking bad, why don't you just let us kill you, asshole?" 

"That kinda defeats the purpose of the threat. You see, you're completely correct in your assessment. I am bored." Technoblade's light yet nearly monotone voice grates on Quackity's nerves. "I'm simply too good. Unbeatable, even. I've searched and searched, but haven't found a single worthy foe." 

"So you failed!" Quackity crows, slamming his fist on the desk. Psychological warfare, baby.  

Tommy takes up the jeer as well, "You failed, big man, ho, ho!! Eat shit!"  

Technoblade scowls and buries his muzzle in the thick textbook. "Why don't we move on. Page three-hundre-" 

"Move on?? Move on?? You killed my family, Technoblade, you fucking killed them all! I can't fucking move on from that!" Quackity snarls. 

Exhaustion leaks from Technoblade's glower. "I've killed many families, Quackity. All for one goal." 

"Fuck you and your motherfucking anarchy!! You think I'm scared of you?? I- I-" The words choke in Quackity throat as Technoblade stands up. He shrinks in his seat.

"Stay away from him." Sapnap growls. 

Technoblade ignores the students completely, instead turning to the whiteboard and picking up a marker. "History is not circular." 

"What's the fucking point." Quackity grumbles under his breath. There's no winning against a man who'd have no qualms about punting him. 

"Nor is it straight." 

"Pfft, knew it. Now everyone who hates history will get cancelled for being homophobic." Tommy somehow manages to both lighten the mood and make everything worse at the same time. 

Technoblade doesn't get angry or annoyed, however. "Heh. History is pretty gay, not gonna lie. It's also-" He steps away from his crude drawing of a squiggly line, "a helix. History repeats itself in stages. Anyone want to guess why?" 

Tommy leans back in his chair. "Because you're fucking dumb, that's why." 

"Ranboo?" Technoblade addresses the creepy, quiet boy huddled over his desk in the back of the class. 

"Uh- well-" 

"Nothing ever stays the same, big guy." Tubbo interjects. "It's not as simple as stuffing it all into a one dimensional form. Who's to say it's even a line at all?"

Technoblade shrugs. "Fair, fair. Why don't y'all discuss." 

With that, most of the tension in the room dissolves. Groups form as students gravitate towards their friends. Chatter fills the former silence. Quackity forces himself to join in, laughing and pretending like everything is normal again. But nothing about this is normal. 

He can't kill Technoblade through sheer strength. But he could easily outwit him. The gears spin in his mind, working out a plot. 

++++

The first week has gone by uneventfully. Nobody's tried to kill Technoblade yet, who in turn has behaved like a responsible teacher, refraining from punting anyone. It's so boring. 

The last class of Friday ends with the bell, and the kids file out. Technoblade ignores the bitter glares from the little ‘gang’ that calls themselves Ducklings. They haven't attempted anything yet, and Technoblade doubts they'll ever find the guts to actually go through with their plots. Pity, really.

Tommy remains behind, trying to shoo Tubbo, who refuses to leave him. "Teacher!" Tommy stomps up to Techno and slams his notebook on the desk. He's a blustery scamp, but Technoblade has seen how he brightens the classroom and helps his peers. 

"Tommy." 

"Let me kill you." 

"Us." Tubbo corrects. 

"Let us kill you or else." 

"Or?" 

“I'll fail all my classes." Tommy grins, seeming confident he's found a bargaining chip. "And I'll tell everyone else to fail theirs, too. You'll be known as the worst fucking teacher to have ever teachered!" 

"Oh, the horror." Technoblade deadpans. He's got to admit, the kid has guts. "You think I care?" 

"You've gotta. You're our teacher, after all." 

"K." Technoblade doesn't smile. "I'm afraid I can't just let you kill me." 

"Then prepare to be failed upon!" 

"But." Techno holds up a hand. "But, if you try to pass your classes, I will teach you how to kill me. Deal?" 

Tubbo pipes up, "That will be adequate. Come on, Tommy." 

Technoblade waits until both are out of the classroom. He doesn't feel guilty at all. What should he feel guilty for, after all? Simmering rage burns in his chest, a constant companion to the acid in his mind. 

Next class, he promises himself. Next class, the training will begin. He'll be one step closer to achieving his goals. 

Technoblade rises and lets his human form melt away. The voices in his head scream, as they always have, as they always will, hundreds of thousands of souls trapped in here with him. His eyes-- all millions of them-- blink open as his hundreds of wings unfurl. Anyone who could see him now might name him a beast or an angel, and either could be correct. But Technoblade knows both are false promises. Humans can't create beasts or angels, after all. 

Demons, however, are apparently a different matter. 

++++

Ranboo only went back to get his notebook. He can't forget his notebook; that is the one thing he's not allowed to forget. Shadows seep from every corner of the classroom. He shivers as he hastily scrambles to his desk. 

His book isn't in his desk. Where is it?? He can't lose it. He rummages in the desk frantically. Where is it, where is it, where is it?? 

The window creaks, and Ranboo yelps, leaping away from the sudden draft. "Wh-who's there?" 

"Hey." The kind voice greets him from the darkness. "You're out late." 

"I- I just- uhh, who are you?" 

"Who are you?" 

"I- uhh, I'm Ranboo." He backs away to the door. On the floor, silver glints in a shaft of moonlight. The spiral of his notebook. Crap. The shadowed form leaps silently into the classroom and kneels to pick up the book. Crap, crap. "Uh- that's- that's mine, actually." 

"Is it, now?" The gentle mockery in his tone sets Ranboo on edge. 

"Yes, actually, so- so give it back. Please?" 

The mysterious form opens Ranboo's book and flips through it. "Interesting. Alright." He hands it back to Ranboo, who snatches it and scrambles for the door. "Actually, Ranboo, I wanted to talk to you." 

The words yank Ranboo to a halt. He wants to retort, he wants to say no, he wants to leave, but instead he turns back meekly. "Okay?" 

"You're in class 3-E, yeah?" 

"Y-yeah...?" 

"Good. That's good. Do you want your teacher to die?" 

"Huh?" Ranboo tenses, confused by the seeming non sequitor. "I- I mean." Does he want Technoblade to die? Does he want anyone to die, for that matter? "N-not necessarily?" 

"Hm. Alright." 

"Who are you?" Ranboo gathers what little courage he has and steps back towards the door. 

"You, hm, you can call me Dream." The man steps out of the shadows. The mask over his face grins eerily at Ranboo. "I've got a proposition for you, Ranboo." 

++++

"Metal melts in the bastard's skin, so anything with metal is a fucking waste of time." Quackity spreads the pages of his plan over the tree-house's table. 

"Maybe he's a vampire." Karl offers, sitting on the table and messing up Quackity's perfect layout. "Try wood stakes and garlic." 

"Vampires aren't real, dumbass." Connor rolls his eyes. 

"Well, neither are immortal pig-men mutants, but here we are." 

"He's a pig-man, not a vampire. Maybe try something for werewolves? Silver?" Sapnap joins in, swinging on the hammock. 

"He's not a fucking werewolf!" Quackity shoves Karl off the table. "Or a vampire. He's a motherfucking demon, that asshole is, and we need to fucking kill him!" 

"Language!!" The screech from the roof of the treehouse freezes everyone in place. 

"Karl." Quackity says calmly. "Who the fuck did you invite to our secret hideout?" 

"Nobody!" Karl cries. 

"Connor?" 

"He said he'd bring coke!" Connor cries. 

A short man dressed in goth black and red accents drops through the window and smiles at the Ducklings. "I did, but the cans burst on the way." 

"Not soda-" 

"Language!!" The man cries again, shushing Connor. "You kids shouldn't mess with bad stuff, anyway." 

"We don't." Quackity shoots a glare at Connor. "Anyway, it's none of your fucking business. Why the fuck are you here?? What do you want??" 

"I, uhh, just thought I'd help with your problem." The man grins. "You want to kill your teacher, right?" 

"Yeah? But-"

"Well, there you go! I can help you! Name's Bad, by the way. Badboyhalo." 

"How can you help? And what do you want in return??"

"Oh, hmm, how about seventy-five percent of the bounty." 

"Deal." Twenty-five percent of ten billion is still more than enough, and Quackity would prefer revenge on Technoblade over riches, anyway. "How do we kill him?" 

"I've got associates working on that tiny problem. We stole- uh, developed a way to hurt him temporarily, but he can't be killed unless you hit his heart, and his regen powers are too strong to let you reach that with any weapons we currently possess." 

"How the fuck do you know all this??" 

Bad smirks. "Social networking."

++++

Ranboo paces in the chilly alleyway, reading and re-reading his book as shivers wrack his body. He found it. Good. Everything is fine, now. He's fine. 

He shuts out the uneasiness caused by the blurry darkness over his memories. He's never had a good memory, which is why he has this book in the first place. 

He huddles in the corner of the grimy alley to complete his homework, and wonders briefly why there's a second notebook in his backpack also marked 'Do Not Read'. Maybe he forgot he already had one. No worries. It's fine. 

Everything is fine. 

++++

"Class." Technoblade greets his students as they file in. Quackity glares at the monster. He's in his piggy form today, his cloak swishing across the ground. 

"Rise." Tommy calls out the traditional honor given to teachers. But the class hadn't done this before for Technoblade. Quackity glances around at his fellow students, who all seem just as confused. He stands up. The others hesitantly follow his lead. 

"Bow." Tommy sets the example of a shallow bow. Then he straightens and draws a revolver. "Lock on!" 

Quackity stares as Tubbo, Eret, and Wilbur also draw out guns and take aim on Technoblade. 

"Heh??" Technoblade chuffs in confusion. 

"Target on Korosensei!" Tommy snaps out the order. "Fire!" 

"Korosensei??" Quackity's disbelieving laugh is drowned out by the ringing cracks of the guns and the shrill shrieks of students.

"HEH??" Technoblade chuffs again amidst the chaos. Quackity makes the signal to his gang as they stay out of the line of fire. 

"All stop!" Tommy barks. The gunfire ceases. 

Technoblade stares at his class, a tusky smile cracking across his muzzle. "For your first assassination attempt, that was four stars, kids." 

"Wow, that's really good!" Tubbo cheers and high-fives Tommy. 

"Out of ten." 

"Oh. Awww, come on, we deserve some credit for actually getting guns!" 

"You missed." Technoblade replies. "And you ruined my whiteboard." 

"That's your fault, innit, though, big man. If you'd've taken the bullets, the whiteboard would be alright." 

"That's true, that's true." Technoblade's smile fades into a scowl. "But you also put your classmates in danger." 

"They could've asked us what the plan was." Wilbur hums. "It's really their fault for sitting between us and you. And therefore it's your fault for assigning their seats there." 

"True." Eret agrees. "It's all Korosensei's fault."  

++++

Philza walks between his guards, Punz and Ponk, as the two escort him through the compound. "What happened?" He asks, faking calm. 

"Technoblade added another term to our deal." President Skeppy walks backwards in front of Philza. Beside him, Awesamdude keeps a hand on his holstered revolver. 

"Did he." 

"He wants his class trained for assassination. In return, he told us his weakness." 

"Hm." Philza smiles, hiding the whirlwind of chaos and bloodlust behind his eyes. "Pog."

@@@@ KOROSENSEI NEVER DIES @@@@

Chapter 3 (Next)

[not-close-to-straight]

100% Professional (Two)

MASTERLIST

*******************

Tuesday came faster than Peter was expecting. 

Well to be fair, Tuesday came around at exactly the right speed, but Peter's week had been completely exhausting and the days managed to get away from him so before he knew it, it was Tuesday again. 

The part time free lance at the Daily Bugle turned into a full time week long gig when the editor nearly blew a fuse worrying about who was going to photograph the visit from the President. Peter had spent the better part of the next six days following the presidential parade around town and while the paycheck was going to be great, Peter’s entire schedule had gone to shit. 

He was late to every single one of his massage appointments, barely managed a full meal the entire week, and by the time Tuesday rolled around again and he got the reminder about Wade’s appointment, Peter was halfway past frazzled and running on fumes. 

Here we go. 

The doorman at Wade's building was apparently expecting Peter this time around and opened the door immediately, and even though the receptionist didn’t spare Peter a glance, she hit the button for the elevator without being prompted. 

It was much less awkward this time around, and as Peter waited for the elevator to make its super smooth journey to the top floor, he fixed his perpetually messy hair in the mirrored walls and texted Wade:

From Peter: Hey Wade, I’m on my way up to your place. Dunno if your super fancy receptionist let you know or not. 

From Wade: She did, but thanks for the heads up anyway. The door is unlocked, just come right in and get set up. 

From Peter: I don’t make a habit of just walking into people’s apartments.

From Wade: And I don’t make a habit of letting it happen, but you’re fine. Just come in. 

From Peter: Alright, I’ll see you in a minute. 

Walking right into someone’s apartment certainly wasn’t the weirdest request Peter had come across as a massage therapist-- in fact, he’d dropped several clients because of much weirder requests, but he still hesitated, still knocked a couple times before opening the door and calling, “Wade? It’s Peter! I’m here for your massage appointment!”

“Well I sure hope it’s you.” Wade called from somewhere in the back. “Other wise something funky happened in the thirty seconds since someone else named Peter texted me in the elevator.” 

Peter smiled to himself and closed the door, kicking off his shoes and trying to figure out the best place to set up his table. The couch looked like it cost more than Peter’s rent so he definitely wasn’t touching that and the coffee table probably weighed a thousand pounds and since Peter didn’t break a hundred and seventy five pounds on a good day, there was no way he could move it. 

“Just set up right there in the middle, no need to move anything.” Wade spoke from the hallway and Peter looked up with a ready smile that stretched even bigger when he saw Wade was shirtless, clad only in a pair of loose shorts. “How’s it going, Pete?” 

“Hey.” Peter thumped his bag to the floor and shoved his hands in his pockets, working to keep his eyes off of Wade’s sort of ridiculously ripped body and on Wade’s face instead. “You must be feeling better about all this, huh? I sorta expected you to be wearing a full body suit and gloves, not showing off your nip-nops right away.” 

Wade raised practically non existent eyebrows and Peter closed his eyes briefly, muffling a curse. “I didn’t mean for that to be rude. Also didn’t mean to call your nipples nip-nops. I only meant-- holy shit, I was trying to-- fuck me, I am so bad at this.” 

“It’s fine.” Wade cracked a smile at Peter’s embarrassment. “You making fun of me makes me feel normal.” 

“I am definitely not making fun of you.” Peter was horrified by his blunder. “Definitely not doing that. Christ, don’t think I’m laughing at you or anything.”

“Pete.” Wade took a few seconds to look Peter over, lingering over the thick hair and down to slim hands and further still to maybe just check out a little bit of an ass that was begging to be tore the hell up.

"Seriously, I'm sorry." Peter said again when Wade didn't say anything for a minute. "Wade?" 

 “Really, it’s fine." Wade dragged his eyes back up to Peter's face and tried for a smile more reassuring than lecherous. "And I’m not actually feeling better about getting a massage, but I am very very drunk and highly susceptible to suggestion, so this is as relaxed as I’m going to get. Maybe let’s get this over with before all the tequila catches up to me and I pass out face down on your table.”

Peter laughed quietly, relieved Wade hadn't taken his teasing too seriously. “Oh my god. Alright yeah, come on. I’ll set up right here. How was your week? Do anything fun?” 

“I don’t get out a lot.” Wade set a couple water bottles down on the couch and once Peter had his table up and secure, stretched out on top of the sheet. “What about you?” 

“Actually, I got dragged into photographing the President’s visit.” Peter hurried around the room looking for switches to turn the lights down. “I work free lance for the Bugle and Jameson is a grade A asshole, but he pays good. I’ve never been so close to the Secret Service though, those guys are dicks. They wanted to go through all my pictures and make sure nothing was compromising, whatever the hell that means. It’s just a bunch of people shaking hands and vaguely patriotic shots of flags waving and sunshine. Nothing compromising about it.” 

Peter flipped through the music on his phone until he found a playlist he thought Wade would like. “I ended up working like sixty hours which is almost what I do in an entire month. It’s great cos I’m thinking about moving and this will help with the security deposit. My landlord will be mad I’m moving but I mean, I’ve complained about my neighbors making drugs in their apartment at least a dozen times and he hasn’t done anything. I’ve thought about calling the cops but snitches get stitches and honestly, I like my face. So I’m just going to move and let him deal with it.” 

He’d brought along an extra bottle of the avocado based lotion he’d left with Wade last week, and Peter pumped some into his hands and to warm between his palms. “My friends Harry and MJ are moving to the suburbs since they’ve started a family. They offered to let me move in with them and take the spare bedroom or whatever but you know, who wants to live in the suburbs? That sounds--” 

“You talk when you’re nervous, Pete?” Wade interrupted, and Peter’s mouth clicked shut. “You are saying a lot of words right now.” 

“I um--” Peter coughed. “I mean, yeah I talk when I’m nervous but I don’t want you to think I’m nervous about touching you. Cos I’m not. Not nervous, I mean. I can’t really say I’m looking forward to getting my hands on you without sounding like a creeper but--” 

“Pete.” 

“Sorry.” Peter ran his hands through his hair and then mentally kicked himself because he’d forgotten his hands were caked in lotion, which was now caked in his hair. “I’ll shut up.” 

“No, it’s fine.” Wade resettled on the table and tried to relax and Peter-- Peter tried not to stare at the shift and flex of Wade’s shoulders and back. “I don’t mind the talking, I just didn’t want you to be nervous about touching me. It looks worse than it is, but it isn’t… I mean it’s not terrible.” 

“What’s not terrible?” 

Wade propped up on one elbow and sent Peter a disbelieving look. “The scars, Pete. They look worse than they really are. Don’t feel half as bad, I promise.” 

“Oh.” Peter reached out with one hand and let it coast gently gently from Wade’s shoulder down to the small of his back, trying not to read too far into how Wade shivered and seemed to press closer into his palm. “I’m more concerned with how it feels. Not to be rude, but I don’t care how everything looks, I just want to make sure you enjoy this.”

Wade’s hazel eyes went very wide and Peter groaned. “Sorry, that came out awkward. I swear I’m not usually this terrible. Tell you what, for the rest of this appointment I’m only going to ask you massage related things and definitely not blurt out any nonsense or run my mouth. How does that sound?” 

“Boring.” Wade grunted and lay back down. “I think you’re more concerned with being professional than I am.” 

“Yeah but when massage therapists stray from professional we get involved in sketchy things and then the cops start showing up to interrupt the fun appointments.” Peter retorted and then almost immediately, “See what I did there? Opened my mouth and it got weird. I’m just going to shut up and start.” 

“...don’t stop talking.” the words were almost muffled in the table, and Wade hesitated before adding, “I like it. Makes this feel less like necessary therapy and more like something I’m doing because I enjoy it.”

“You never had a massage before this?” Peter asked curiously. “Not even once?” 

“Real men don’t pay pretty boys to slather them up in lotion unless it ends in various happy moments.” Wade retorted and Peter huffed a surprised laugh. “See? I can be unprofessional too. Now we’re even.”

“Now we’re even.” Peter re-lotioned his hands and took a deep breath. “Alright, I’m gonna start on your shoulders and then work down your arms to your hands. Usually I do arms and hands last, but I want to make sure I’m getting the pressure just right and that you’re comfortable before I move anywhere that could trigger pain, okay?” 

“Okay.” Wade had to tamp down a sliver of fear the tequila hadn't quite managed to mask. He didn't want to say he was terrified to be touched but... but yeah, Wade was pretty fucking terrified to be touched. But he didn't say that. Instead he insisted, “I’m ready.” 

“Use your words and tell me the minute you hate something.” Peter said firmly. “I’ve worked with several people with injuries or sensitivities but everyone is different and since this is my first time with you, I need you to talk to me and let me know what’s going on. Once I know your body better--” 

“--you’re swaying unprofessional, Pete.” Wade sassed, sort of loving that even when Peter was being professional, he still managed to tease. 

Normal. This is what normal people do. 

“--oh my god.” Peter sighed overly loud. “--once I know your body better, this will be easier but for right now, lots of communication, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” Wade clutched at the sheet and closed his eyes tight. "Lots of communication." 

“Okay.” Another deep breath and Wade wondered for a minute if Peter was as nervous as he was. “Here we go.” 

****************

Trapezius. Peter thought to himself as he worked his fingers along the right side of Wade’s neck and down over the collarbone and to the shoulder. The scars weren’t as thick here as they were further down on Wade’s back but it was still hard to look at the branching lines and feel the raised edges. The injury could have killed Wade just as easily as it had left him alive and seeing the sheer scope of the damage up close made Peter’s mouth dry and his heart clench. 

Levataor scapulae, rhomboid minor, rhomboid major-- Wade jerked and Peter instantly let go. “Whoops, sorry about that. You alright?” 

“Nope, that one hurts.” Wade hissed through clenched teeth."Jesus, maybe we just avoid it." 

Peter leaned over to make a note on one of his diagrams and went back to the same muscle, lightening the pressure and changing the direction of his fingers. “How’s this? Better, worse, tell me the truth.” 

“Better." Wade admitted after a few seconds. "But it still hurts like a bitch.” 

“Like...a.. Bitch…” Peter wrote down and Wade chuckled a little bit. “Kay, we’ll move on from there.”

Deltoids. Wade’s shoulder was rock hard and Peter knew it was just as much scar tissue as it was muscle but he still felt gingerly along trying to feel where man met injury, where the slight give of solid muscles met unyielding damage. 

“This will soften after a while.” he told Wade confidently. “Consistent massage does wonders, and it doesn't even have to be professional. If you work at it by yourself the scar tissue will soften and help lessen the appearance of the actual scars, too.” 

“I know better than to hope for that.” Wade made an effort to sound joking, but he knew when Peter clicked his tongue in sympathy that the joke had fallen flat. “But thanks anyway.” 

Triceps, brachialis, biceps. Peter could just barely close both hands around Wade’s arm and he knew if the former soldier flexed, his fingers wouldn’t touch. Good Christ. Peter was too professional to be imagining how easily Wade could pick him up with arms that size but… but… 

Well anyway. 

Brachioradalis, radialis longus, radialis brevis. Peter could feel the rod and screws that had been used to piece Wade’s left forearm together and even the lightest touch made Wade tense and try to pull away so Peter settled for long, soothing strokes with very easy pressure to try and loosen the stiff muscles.

"Both sides?" he asked and Wade muttered, "Just the one. Everything's worse on the left hand side." 

"Okay." Peter made another note on his chart and moved onto Wade’s hand. 

Extensor digilorum was the long muscle that led to fingers and Peter kept the same light pressure before moving on to the wrist, bending and flexing it until Wade relaxed and let it hang boneless. “Not to be weird, but I’m gonna hold your hand now.” he said out loud and caught just the hint of a smile. “Don’t worry sir, this is one hundred percent professional.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure--” Wade jumped when Peter wove their fingers together, his heart suddenly in his throat. “Shit, shit-- sorry.” 

“Is this too uncomfortable?” Peter paused mid squeeze. “It helps give your fingers a wider range of motion but I can stop if you don’t like it.” 

“It’s fine.” Wade turned his head the other way because he felt like he was blushing and fuck that was stupid. “Been a long time since someone held my hand.” 

“Um--” 

“Longer since I had to pay someone to do it.” Wade wasn't entirely sure why he dropped that completely embarrassing factoid, but he followed it up with, "You know how weird it is to offer people money to hold hands? Like hey man, can I borrow your digits, here's a fiver."  

“Oh my god.” Peter tried to muffle a laugh. “I feel like most people don't admit to hiring hand holding hookers. You really are drunk, huh?” 

“Absolutely sloshed.” Wade agreed and this time Peter didn’t bother hiding the laugh. “Hate to admit that it takes a fifth of tequila to get brave enough to be shirtless but these days it definitely does.” 

“It shouldn’t.” Peter kept his hand resting between Wade’s shoulder blades as he crossed to the other side of the table. “You’re gorgeous, Wade.” 

There went his heart jumping to his throat again and Wade had to wait a few seconds before he could talk again. “I don’t pay extra for lies and compliments, kiddo.” 

Peter got more lotion and felt gingerly along Wade’s left trapezius. “I am both shocked and appalled that you think I’m lying. What sort of massage therapist do you take me for?”

Wade breathed out shakily but didn’t answer, and Peter gave him a soft reminder of “Let me know if this hurts.” before he began again. 

**************

**************

“So.” Peter dried his hands on the kitchen towel and went to start gathering his supplies up. “How’d I do? I know we only got to shoulders and arms today, but I feel like I'm pretty comfortable with pressure and all that sort of thing. You want to do this every Tuesday? If you think a full body would be too much, we could do shorter sessions twice a week and sort of ease into something full body as we go?" 

“Uh about that.” Wade handed Peter his usual payment, then added another fifty even though Peter protested. “No, keep that. Part of it for a tip and part of it to cover the commute time. Keep it.” 

“Thanks.” Peter pocketed the money. “So. Appointment?” 

“I don’t know.” Wade was dressed again, but he felt more uncomfortable now than he had when he was half naked and on the table. “I feel like maybe that’s not a good idea. Not um-- not that you weren’t great, I mean I feel--” he rotated his shoulders carefully. “This is the best I’ve felt in a while. But all the same maybe we shouldn’t do this again.” 

“...I don’t understand.” Peter tried and failed to hide the hurt in his voice, and then the surprise when he realized he really was hurt. “Did I make you uncomfortable?”

What was that all about, two appointments and his feelings were hurt that Wade wanted to cancel?

“It’s not you.” Wade ran a hand over his bare scalp, then grimaced because even though it had been a while since he'd had hair, he still missed it. “It’s uh-- It’s me. This is weird for me.” 

Peter just looked at him and Wade clenched his jaw and admitted, “I like you, Pete. And I don’t like a lot of people. And you being nice to me and then touching me-- it’s been a long time since either of those things happened and I don’t want it to get weird between us if I uh-- you know. If I end up-- you know.” 

“I know lots of places to push that are basically instant boner killers.” Peter said offhandedly, smiling when he saw the relief and surprise flicker across Wade’s face. “And even if I didn’t, who cares? There’s lotion and hands touching, boners happen. It doesn’t mean anything and it’s definitely not going to make this weird. I’m way too professional for that.” 

“Pete--” 

“I like you too.” Peter interrupted. “If it wasn’t particularly obvious from our first meeting where I basically drooled over you and then made an attempt at truly awful flirting, I like you too. And usually I’d say no to working on a client than I also want to ask out to dinner, but in your case---” he shrugged. “--I don’t really want anyone else doing this for you.”

“...yeah?” Wade was almost too afraid to even hope. "You think?" 

“Yes.” Peter nodded emphatically. “So what if we make another appointment, we can spend the entire time talking while I work on you and then it’s like a win win for everyone right? Super hot super secret reclusive former soldier gets company and struggling to make rent recent college grad--” 

He pointed to himself. “--can pay his electric bill. It will help you with your physical therapy and give us a chance to know each other.” 

Wade must have looked like he was going to say no again, because Peter added, “Me liking you won’t affect anything about this, Wade.” he motioned between their bodies. “Despite my severe lack of brain/mouth filter, I am a professional. Trained, licensed, all of that. I know regular massages will help you so I want to keep working with you. Whatever this flirty bullshit is-- that’s just a bonus alright? Unnecessary and unimportant and not going to have any affect on your hour long massage therapy.” 

"Seems like a hell of a bonus." Wade was hard pressed to think of the last time he'd wanted to flirt with anyone, and it was driving him crazy that the anyone was also his massage therapist. No way this is professional. No way Peter would really be willing to-- "You think it will work?" 

“Absolutely.” Peter promised. “But if you’re not super sure, then stop booking appointments and let me just take you out for a date. Or tell me I have no chance for a date and to stop flirting, and I’ll just be your massage therapist. But I think…” he raised his eyebrows hopefully. “...we could settle on a happy medium where we see each other in a professional setting but also get to be friends who maybe flirt too?” 

“I could handle friends who maybe flirt too.” Wade said after a long moment, scarcely believing the conversation was even happening. "I think I'd fucking love that." 

“I don’t mind the scars, Wade.” Peter’s voice softened. “Not as a massage therapist and not as me either. I promise.” 

“Damn, Murdock knew what the hell he was doing when he recommended you, huh?” Wade coughed to clear what felt suspiciously like tears from his throat. “Alright then. So long as you don’t feel uncomfortable, I’d-- I’d like if you came back.” 

“Tuesday.” Peter said confidently, hoisting his table up and over his shoulder. “Drink lots of water after a massage and remember to stretch. Text me what time works for you, okay?” 

“Okay.” Wade managed a smile. “Thanks, Pete.” 

“Text me a time for next week.” Peter said again. “And if you want? Maybe text me just to talk.” 

“Alright.” Another smile, but this was one a little more certain. “I’ll… do that.” 

“Talk to you later.” Peter finger gunned-- seriously, why couldn’t he just wave goodbye?-- and headed out the door, reaching for his phone when it buzzed in his pocket before he even reached the elevator. 

From Wade: Not to be sappy and disgusting, but your terrible flirting has been better therapy than a whole year of rehab. 

From Peter: That was absolutely sappy and disgusting and you should be embarrassed.

From Peter: And what the hell, my flirting isn't terrible.  

From Wade: It absolutely is terrible and WHOA what happened to being professionally polite?

From Peter: Via text all bets are off. Besides, you’re awfully chatty over text too AND you already admitted to liking me so the 100% professional guarantee is face to face only. 

From Wade: Alright then, tell me something 100% non professional

From Peter: You flexed earlier and I almost had a heart attack. Like what the fuck, muscles? 

Wade was halfway through a bottle of water when the text from Peter came through and he choked on a hard swallow, spitting water out across the floor and wheezing as he tried to catch his breath. 

From Wade: Thanks for that

From Pete: I was being serious!

From Wade:... yeah, me too.

***************

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***************

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[wovenstarlight]

YWBK update: chapter 25 + liner notes

yesterday will be kinder has updated! you can read chapter 25 here, or start from the beginning here

okay, on to notes and commentary! first time i’m doing these, let’s hope this works out. commentary under the cut to save people’s dashes

Hamin laughs. “Given how bad you are at not being suspicious, that’s understandable.” “Oh, come on, I’m not that bad.” Hamin screws up his whole face in a squint. “Okay, so maybe I’m a little bad.”

this part was really funny to me when i wrote it because i was like “hmm reasons for DHM to understand why HHJ wouldn’t work in the guild” and then i was like Wait. Their Whole First Meeting, Dude. DHM was lowkey convinced for the longest time that HHJ was like, on the run from the KR version of the mafia, and got plastic surgery to look like his little brothers, and is possibly in some sort of witness protection program??? or something??? how else does he not have cops on his ass this man is so suspicious all the time

“I don’t think… They said the dungeons were, like, different worlds? Did they find people there?”

mafia theory second place. dungeon theory first place

“Like, humans? Um. No, no humans.” “So then you can’t be from there. Okay.”

dungeon theory shot down. mafia theory back in the running

“Hey,” he says cautiously. “I’m— I’m gonna go get us some water, okay? Why don’t you… take a minute.” “Okay.” “The bathroom is over there, if you need it.” “Okay. Thank you.”

after four years working alongside a guy you start to notice when he’s feeling a little out of it and needs a bit of a break... but as JHW mentions later you also learn to be a little subtle about giving him one

jung heewon What’s with your typing? It reads like Jihye’s [HYJ]’s fine. Very energetic Too energetic? He’s going to burn out. How do I make him calm down

Epic Burnout Man makes a reappearance! when translating sclass one of the things that makes me want to shake HYJ most is his habit of constantly adding things to his to-do list while he already has 1 billion things on his plate. and all the time he’s whining about “UGH there’s SO MUCH WORK to do” No One Asked You To Do It

Anyway. the point is. HYJ isn’t about to be beat by HHJ at Developing Issues 😔

jung heewon I haven’t spoken to him directly about this because if he’s anything like you he’ll take it as an insult You wtf whts tht supposed 2 mean quit typing jung heewon Better not say shit, mr “No, I can’t take days off and cater to my interests or go out with friends or on a date, I’m too busy taking care of the kids and making sure their needs are met, no I don’t care that there are thousands of people out there balancing personal enjoyment and romance and work AND kids at the same time, are you suggesting I be a BAD GUARDIAN to MY KIDS?”

see above re: not being too direct with pointing out when HHJ’s having Issues because he doesn’t react well

You wht but our eyes r fine jung heewon Even if having glasses doesn’t run in the family, you should still get him checked, just in case

top 10 funny time travel moments: referring to you and your past self as “us” (our = my eyes are fine), but other people think you mean “our family” (our eyes are fine = no family history of long/shortsightedness)

Also. Sooyoung-ie says hi [Attachment: 20XX1213_144516.jpg] 

ok no lie this was one of the parts that pissed me off the most, even though it’s Literally One Line, because. i love chat exchanges. i really do. when done right they’re a lot of fun to read. But Do You Know How Long It Took Me To Figure Out A Calendar For The Events In This Fic. now everything’s TIMED i have to count HOW MANY DAYS IT’S BEEN since XY event so i can CORRECTLY NUMBER the FILE ATTACHMENTS!!! this sucks!!! it took me fucking forever to pin down a timeline just so i could write this chapter plus the few before and after it!!!!

anyway i gave up when i reached year. i just put 20XX. fuck it. we are running on fairy tail time now. (actually i think that’s XXnumber number? XX76? or was it X796. something like that. Who cares i stopped watching fairy tail forever ago)

Fuck it! Hamin will understand!! “If you Awaken you should come work with me,” Han Hyunjae says all in a rush. 

“HAMIN WILL UNDERSTAND” => he literally was cool with me giving zero context for half a dozen absolute balls to the wall nonsense bullshit things i’ve done before. he’ll be fine with this too. dog_in_burning_house_this_is_fine.png

“You already know about the guilds, those are going to be for dungeon Hunters, but I was thinking of forming something like an independent group of contractors. Awakened people with skills that aren’t useful for combat, but that might… that will be generally useful. It’d be you and me, and maybe one other guy I met recently. Probably more in the future.”

given that HHJ has no idea currently that peace exists (i’m so sorry baby i’ll find a way to shoehorn you in soon i miss you so much) he’s got no intentions to start a kiseungsu business yet! he mostly wants to live quietly while just acting as a manager for other Awakening-related services, like YMW’s forge and DHM’s tracking service, along with the information exchange/lowkey spy ring that he’s planning on setting up with JHW and the bar. since HYH is fine associating with him in this timeline, HHJ’s thinking he can get a foot in the door that way, then eventually spread out into dealings with most major guild leaders

RIP to this plan. you were well-made but you will not last long.

“Please, I can’t tell you how I know that, I really can’t, it’d put me and my brothers in danger if it got out. But—” “No need.” Hamin looks slightly alarmed, and Han Hyunjae feels himself settle at the obvious concern in his eyes.

MAFIA THEORY RAPIDLY RISING TO PROMINENCE??? THIS IS NOT HOW DO HAMIN WANTED HIS GUESS CONFIRMED

“I spoke to the Task Force Head and she said that there’s been discussion about hosting a meeting for the nearby high-rankers, where they’ll announce the guild proposal and see who else is interested in trying it out.”

“they’ll announce” i’m sorry king 💔 you deserved a nap

(OH ALSO FUN FACT choi eunyoung is a canon character, not an OC of mine! she appears in uhhh i think late 140s? 150s? something like that)

“I think there’s… probably only one other S-rank who’s Awakened right now?”

Hehehehehehehehehehehehehhehe

Hamin beams. “No, they’re doing great! Spookie’s taken really well to the new housing situation, but I think Spots might miss the store…”

shoutout to @daemonic-dawn​ for letting me borrow a pet name, love u king. i had a much longer ramble about pet names here but i finished typing and realized it was all entirely off topic so i removed it for convenience

Hyunjae makes an annoyed noise in the back of his throat. “Don’t— I mean.” He huffs, visibly taking a deep breath, and Yoojin frowns reflexively. [...] “Is everything alright?” Yoojin kind of wants to be annoyed at his tone on principle, but he forces his shoulders to relax, matching Hyunjae’s posture. Though he can’t stop himself from being a little short when he answers.

things the brothers have learned in four years living together: getting confrontational often leads to arguments that just fizzle out anyway, so it’s way fucking easier to consciously tone down their combativeness in advance when talking to each other about things they have problems with, instead of screaming their heads off and then having to calm yoohyun down afterwards to boot

“I guess. Whatever.” Yoojin slumps. “Can I…” “Hm?” Hyunjae blinks at Yoojin as he gestures to the spot on the bed beside him, then jolts. “Oh! Yeah, sure, c’mere.” He opens his arms, and Yoojin goes over and flumps on the bed, head in Hyunjae’s lap. Almost immediately, Hyunjae starts stroking fingers through his hair, and Yoojin relaxes into the touch, listening as Hyunjae continues speaking.

cuddles 🥺🥺🥺 sorry i don’t have any other commentary here just. cuddles. extremely and overwhelmingly comforting for a man who spent the better part of 8 years(?) with no major positive relationships, and a kid who spent 12 years of early life basically abandoned by his parents. you had best bet they gave up on not hugging each other 1 year into this whole mess

Yoojin hums in acknowledgement. It’s not like he’d ever let himself get hurt; he has too many responsibilities to his family and friends. If he wants to be good enough to keep up, he can’t afford to fuck up like that. But… hyung will worry if he keeps working so hard. He can slow down a little for him. 

Problems disorder man when will you stop. the way he sees “getting hurt” as an inconvenience and an obstacle to his duties rather than a danger to himself. the way he doesn’t really care if he himself gets hurt, but if it’ll worry his family, then it’s a no-no. it’s just. wow. i know i wrote this but i hate him

“Not really. I talk to Myeongwoo about it sometimes.” “Ah, right, Myeongwoo.”

haha gays

“Don’t be weird about him,” Yoojin warns[...]. “I won’t, promise.”

if the “i won’t” line had a dialogue tag it’d be “Han Hyunjae lied”

“Is Eunwoo still in his relationship?” “Mhm, happy as ever. Apparently they’re trying long-distance, now that Eunwoo’s gone off to university abroad.”

three guesses for who eunwoo’s dating and you won’t need the first two

Hyunjae raises his hands like he’s going to deny the accusations levelled against him, so Yoojin seizes him by the collar and shakes him until he cries for mercy

oh my o/rv ass struggled so bad with not writing “shakes him like a man betrayed” here. it killed me not to. but in the end i prevailed (against, uh, myself. don’t think about it too hard.)

“Jeez, okay, he’s an F-rank!” “Eh?! Then why—” “He’s also got an SS-rank potential skill,” Hyunjae admits[...].

play-by-play of this scene because god if i draw any scene in this fic it would be this one just for the sheer hysterical nature of HYJ’s reaction:

YOOJIN: I HATE YOU WHAT THE FUCK WHY. TELL ME HIS RANK

HYUNJAE: HE’S AN F

YOOJIN: WHAT? WHAT THE FUCK?

HYUNJAE: he’s also got an SS-rank skill,

YOOJIN:

[transsexualhamlet]

the many sins of tokyo ghoul :re

or: 13 reasons why :re is fucking terrible not clickbait

Disclaimer: I think no matter how long this post gets I’m missing something, so let’s just outline the worst ones. And I mean to be transparent, the only reason I actually read :re was so I could make this post... (and bc i wanted to see the what, five panels of hide) Well, I couldn’t stand hating it without evidence beyond hearsay and General Vibes. But I knew it was gonna be bad, I knew it was going to ruin me jesus christ. Obviously I’m not hating on people that like it, and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with genuinely enjoying it (I do genuinely enjoy parts of it, and by parts i mean chapters 1-50 with exceptions and 75) I think it’s wonderful if you can derive joy from it (lmao) but I can say that through my lens in life, there’s so much fucking wrong with this goddamn fucking piece of shit manga and I feel the need to yell about it because i am ✨autism✨ so let’s get going (this is r e a l l y long just a warning)

tl;dr Ishida stay in your fucking lane

1. Transphobia and Homophobia:

alright here we are first off with the big one and if I had to choose, one of Ishida’s greatest sins here. It’s quite unusual in mangas like these to have any sort of representation for such things in and of itself, and yeah of course that annoys me, but having no represntation at all is like so much better than getting actively harmful representation. Most manga that aren’t specifically about those things shy away from those topics, and it’s tiring but it’s normal. You wouldn’t want a mangaka to try to write about something like that without experience or informed opinions. So I say if you can’t write something correct, just don’t write something like that in at all. Ishida clearly,,, does not get this.

And it’s not just the case of Mutsuki, who, well, gets it bad enough, there are three full fucking trans characters Ishida made like, just to shit on. 

Big Madame- god, made like that specifically to perpetuate the predatory trans woman trope jesus christ is Ishida friends with JK fuckface Rowling. Ah yes the ugly, human trafficking, predatory, pedophilic killer that tried to make their male child more feminine? Has a dick. Really? Could you be a single bit more transparent about your fucking agenda here? I really don’t have to say much here.

Kanae von Fuckwald- Technically Ishida says here that basically this bitch was just like??? Pretending to be a guy for years just to what?? I don’t even know?? Get together with Tsukiyama? Cause he’s fucking gay or something? I don’t even get it but like i read this post yesterday and that’s a whole ass thermian argument. It’s like “oh well this is fine because well this person’s not actually trans and therefore the representation thing doesn’t apply”... it’s useless. You created the character that way and you made it intentionally to for whatever way promote this idea that people would “pretend” to be a different gender and that eventually they’ll realize that it’s a “lie” and they never really wanted it. This is what you’re saying about the real people who are,,, actually trans? Jesus christ. Also thinking that a twink like that would be trans? God yeah trans guys can be feminine but buddy that’s clearly not what you’re going for here.

And of course, Mutsuki- There’s just... so much wrong here. I mean like. Before we even get into anything about his character and what they did to him let me just discuss his entire design. Buddy like if you had to choose one person in that show to be trans that’s the least likely one. Ah yes, the feminine one. With the androgynous haircut and the shy disposition and the physical weakness compared to the others. God that’s like, a fujoshi’s take on ao3 of what character should be trans. As much as yeah of course, trans guys can be feminine, they are in no way obligated to be such and you shouldn’t make them more so to be more “believably” so. Ask any actual trans person ever. A character like that is just perpetuating the notion of trans guys being inherently more feminine or trying to pretend to be otherwise.ThEn, of course, there’s the ridiculous sexualization, infantilization and fetishization of this character, going through a thousand plot hurdles to make him constantly stripped, put in girls clothing, chased by perverts, assaulted, ET FUCKING CETERA. Give him a fUCKING BREAK. Creating this character the way he’s portrayed in canon (including so called backstory of murdering parents because of sexual and physical abuse) is perpetuating a notion that someone would be a trans guy because of internalized misogyny and/or trauma instead of because they’re just... a guy. It’s just it’s just it’s just Really bad. Plus taking his character, demonizing him and making him like, supposedly love haise (which i Really hate for a thousand reasons, god that’s like, a parent and child type relationship they have there not romantic,,, god,,,) try to like fucking murder touka and stop seeing sense, and then just... return him to being infantalized. God. Jesus christ fucking goddamn it I love Mutsuki and he deserves better.

Oh yeah and then the homophobia, this one’s smaller because... most of the trans people are here to go “it’s gay... wait it’s not Really gay so it’s ok” but I would like to leave a small note here for all the gay characters who got thrown under the bus not just in re but in the original, like, you know, Nico and shit? I really do not know shit about Nico but all the things about Jason? God if I had a thing for one person that you shouldn’t try to portray as representation it’s Jason. IDK what’s up with him and Naki but god it wasn’t healthy. (i’d like to say here that i love naki and i think naki deserves the world but honey there are better heroes than yamori) Anyway yeah I think that’s also bullshit and Ishida should stay in his fucking lane. (or her i guess, i just feel like it’s probably a guy bc of just... so much sexism)

Ok, now that we have the big one out of the way-

2. The mishandling of portrayals of various mental illnesses:

I’m not an expert on this one like I can say about the gays TM but just like in general, the whole manga’s very messy and portrays a lot of gritty stuff, and Ishida clearly attempts to throw in some mental illness for fun, but god fUcking damn it they’re bad. I couldn’t really even give you examples bc it’s pretty widespread and i’m stupid, but it was really like trump throwing paper towels “and you get a demonization, and you get an infantalization, and you get a butchered character, and you get a fetishization-”

3. Ishida having no fucking clue how science works

This particular factoid led me to have a very hard time reading this manga because it went from being about like, yknow, torture and fights and crying and stuff to weird experimentation bullshit and mutated whatever and everyone’s a hybrid now I guess. When I heard this thing about the quinxes, I thought that made no sense, because I was like “yeah but wait,,, how tf does that work didn’t Ishida say earlier that kagune literally were fueled by human meat isn’t that like the entire point the ccg is against?” and then Ishida’s explanation of how they’re not just exactly like Kaneki is that “oh yeah well there’s like, metal around it, so it’s different.” OH YEAH OK THAT MAKES PERFECT SENSE NOW, THANKS.

The thing is... there’s no way of actually regulating that. You couldn’t move a kagune unless it was attached to your cells, and if it’s attached man, it’s attached and it’s part of you. Also yelling “frame two” won’t like make it any bigger lmao, either you’re gonna have it based on theoretical science in this universe or you’re going to have a dumb supernatural magic pokemon fight deal. The whole thing makes no sense. The science issue isn’t just about this either, it’s also about how the entire thing basically undermines the point of the whole story. When you blur the lines between human and ghoul with little to no real rules or basis in real science, every rule kind of just becomes cheap plot convenience.

So the Quinxes can eat human food unless they use their kagune too much, alright, but Kaneki couldn’t eat human food before he’d even ever used his though the only difference between their bodies was this,,, theoretical metal thing?? And Haise... was never really covered, before he went black hair emo bastard and like vored Eto, did he eat human food like the rest of the CCG? He certainly cooked it. And the squad that lived with him wasn’t aware he was a ghoul until he pulled out the kagune. So I’d assume so, but then how could he have a kagune, how could he survive when his body still was like that?

Is it the RC suppressents? Then couldn’t he just have taken those and lived as a human the entire time? Is that all he fucking needed, is that the only difference between human and ghoul? It doesn’t make sense and the rules are bent so much they don’t function anymore. Ishida like write down your rules somewhere even if they’re bullshit, they shouldn’t contradict each other.

Damn man I’m not even going to go into the dumbass rules of the half humans or the special fast aging thing or the fucking,,, folded up cells deal,,, or the Imagination Kagune, or the fucking,,, Dragon, or the zombie ghoul apocalypse or the “whole new species made of just kagune” i don’t even have the time it is fucking ridiculous and I can’t even with it. Physics. Laws of physics. If not biology, at least follow physics Ishida??? Please???? And if you’re not you need to do that consistently??

4. character glow ups actually being character glow downs 

(with the exception of nishiki, he baby now, and akira, i think her development was valid af)

God, this one gets me every time. Touka was cool. Touka was fucking badass, she had a complex character with many motivations and wants, and in the original having her eventually kind of soften bc of Kaneki is valid. But taking her and turning her into like literally nothing but Pretty Housewife Yearning For Husband At War? God, kill me. She’s a strong person. She can like Kaneki without the guy being her only character trait. Also uh, Touka and Kaneki being a couple was valid before this change, now I honestly can’t stomach it. Like they were the kind of “both bisexual” m/f couple that we stan. No longer I guess.

She’s the most egregious example, but I’d also like to point out Juuzou, not everything they changed about him is bad, honestly we fucking stan his knife legs, but he’s kind of like a rip off L now? You got rid of his ~unhinged~, we do not stan. I’m on the fence about him bc i think that kind of is a valid transition to adulthood and I guess he’s grown up, but again, why change his fucking hair color? What is the explanation for this?

Also Hinami. I mean, I don’t really care about her a lot in general, but it’s weird to see her as like an adult when Ayato emo boy looks like exactly the fucking same and they’re like,,, supposedly the same age. 

There are definitely more I’m missing here. Honestly, Hide was valid. God him with his fucking burlap sack. With a fucking lenny face on it. I can’t with him. That’s so Hide. But there were some bad ones.

5. one hair color change was my limit, enough said

black white black and white black white more white god bitch get some variety

6. Showing me great new characters and then promptly ruining them

And you can tell this one’s about quinx squad, my favorite bastard children. God, I love them. They’re the only good things about Re other than Hide and Haise and like everything else, Ishida took them and went “what if i *guts*” god why. I love these kids with all my heart. Why. Why. Why did you do that to Mutsuki. Why as soon as Haise isn’t in the room they all get themselves tangled up with pedos. Why they gotta break up the squad. Why make all of them lose all the wholesomeness and lessons they learned from Haise. Why do you ruin them all with weird unreciprocated random crushes on each other when they’re like basically siblings. Why fuckinG KILL SHIRAZU HE IS THE APPOINTED CHIEF DUMBASS OF THE SQUAD WHY HIM. WHY. WITH SO LITTLE IMPACT. YOU COULD FUCKING MISS IT SO EASILY. THAT’S NOT RIGHT. AND KANEKI JUST FUCKING ABANDONS THEM BC HE HAS HIS MEMORIES AGAIN N O ? NO ACTUALLY NO.

7. the casual racism and sexism :)

i just :) can you stop having girls constantly bring themselves down for being female :) and making them be oversexualized, less full characters :) always in some way connected to a guy :) more weak and hurt more often :) my fucking god :) also yeah it’s way less prevalent but there were a few racist caricatures thrown in there for taste if you don’t know how to draw lips just don’t

8. Ishida being too much of a pissbaby for a real death scene

Basically: undermining the impact of “deaths” fom the first series while also randomly and badly killing off new characters. Oh that character that died in the original in a really cinematic way that made you cry and think about the meaning of life and how beautifully tragic this story was? Oh lol they’re not Actually dead. (x10) Doing that with Hide (at least in the manga, not the anime, god root A really did it with him but we’re not talking about that) was valid, seeing as I love him your honor and in the manga one of the lessons that his character hinges on was like in chapter 75 to live on instead of giving up even if it hurts and all that... (this is obviously kind of the opposite from root A where his character was like more about sacrificing for kaneki since kaneki had already done so much, i think both are valid but we’re Talking About The Manga) he was done well. That was right (even though i think they should have done More of it) but there were so many characters this kind of thing was done to without the proper adjustment in the handling of the messages given here. 

Like with Koma and Irimi, who,,, honestly should have stayed dead because their entire character arc kinda ended there and showed how they were sorry for their actions and this was how they were making it up. And then they just like... come back. And fight more. Really? This wasn’t the only instance either, same deal with Shinohara (though him coming back made me cry) it like, kind of undermines it if you’re going to have Juuzou derive his character development from that. Either Juuzou gets to keep his unhinged and his dad, or he loses his dad for real and he also grows up. God guys choose. What’s the message you’re playing here. (at least they kept Yoshimura dead, his death made me cry and I would have stabbed something if it wasn’t real, probably Ishida.) And even with Kaneki himself, god, if he can’t die from being stabbed straight through the fucking eye, what COULD kill him? It really diminishes the anxiety you feel about “omg is this person gonna die i want them to be ok” if they basically evade the laws of physics and their own previous character arcs 70 times. I’m definitely forgetting more of the same, Ishida can’t write a good death, he needed the anime writers to do it for him.

9. Kaneki. Just. Kaneki. 

God they fucking butchered this man. I could go on about his character is weird and confusing in the manga from the beginning, but we’re focusing on mostly all his weird :re character development, the bad handling of Haise and his memories, and all his iterations.

Before I read :re, what I could glean from fanart and the occasional fic that wasn’t tagged properly was really confusing and kind of a mixed bag. I knew Haise was Kaneki but without his memories, now in the ccg trying to be a pacifist and going :DDDDD a lot yknow. And what I came up with in my own mind for that change was a deal of (this makes more sense with the anime canon tbh, the manga honestly doesn’t do any of this well) like Kaneki after The Shit Went Down With Hide (whichever canon you’d like to interpret that as) he basically realized that he really couldn’t be a ghoul, he didn’t want to be, he didn’t want to hurt people and he wanted to be happy and make other people happy instead of what he thought was right before (trying to fight to protect others on his own etc) because that mentality had gotten people he loved hurt, and well subconsciously I guess that kind of factored into his development into Haise and maybe caused his memory loss (along with the, yknow, shanked eye.) So when I started to read it that kind of checked out, this is what he’s trying so hard to be now. But then this whole bullshit of the whole other like, 37 different versions of kaneki complicated things. 

Haise was scared that when he got his memories back he would cease to be, well, Haise, and he would just like revert back to what he was before everything. Which I can understand him being scared of and I think was a good point in the plot for him to worry about that, but I was like “oh honey don’t worry that’s not how it works” and was kind of vying for him to eventually get his memories back, come to terms with the fact that those were his memories, he did do those things, he was half a ghoul, and maybe come back to his original fight of wanting to bring the humans and ghouls together, still caring about his human people in the ccg and all. That development was real, and it wouldn’t just go away if he got his memories back, he learned a lot and grew a lot and he has a different outlook on life now. Right?

Fucking wrong I guess. Dude gets his memories back (very ambiguously, it was really hard to tell when that even happened tbh) and like. Turns into a flaming ass looking like ebony darkness dementia raven way. Haise gone. Fucking completely. No trace left. Doesn’t care about his kids anymore. When he’s done with that and goes white again he’s just Kaneki again and there’s really not enough left of things that like, really wouldn’t go away? He loses the flair? The dumbass? The :D? The Extra? WHY? Why would those things go away? Haise shouldn’t have been right that he would disappear when he got back his memories. That killed me. I love Kaneki and all but H a i s e. He is my b o y. H i m. With his e n e r g y  s h o r t s. And his m o m. And his c o o k i n g. And his k i d s, I l o v e him. And Ishida doesn’t seem to realize that they’re... literally the same person. Haise isn’t just some stupid bastard occupying Kaneki’s body, he’s a valid part of Kaneki himself and to be honest, peak Kaneki. Should have stayed that way. Would have been great for Hide tbh. Not just having him pretty much revert to his old self, but basically respond equally to both names and balance the world between human and ghoul. I would have loved that. What happened for real? It doesn’t make sense and it breaks my heart.

Some people on the interwebz try to kind of even that whole deal out by trying to say he like, has DID, which although is obviously a valid thing, like, so does not apply to him. God I’m like so not an expert on this but I feel like it’s not that hard to tell. His 87 little Kanekis in his head aren’t separate personas, they’re metaphorical representations of his past morals, experiences, and ideologies that all conflict. Again Haise here is peak conflict because when he gets his memories back, he has all these different conflicting ideas that were all previously separate. They’re all him. Tortured Kaneki constantly yelling at him in Jason’s chamber is basically again, a metaphor for how he’s denying his ghoulhood and the trauma that he’s been dealt. It’s not that this dude still exists just the way he is ready to show up at any moment lmao. Ishida kind of dealt with that badly too because Haise really said

after his memories happened so I can see why people might, but it’s... not right, and it’s Ishida’s fault about that which is Incorrect

Also just blanket statement, black reaper Kaneki? Fuck him and all he stands for. 0% valid. I can excuse literally every other version of him. But wh y. God he leaves the room and Urie starts misusing his power and getting groomed by a pedo, Saiko is just, left behind and sad, Mutsuki gets captured by a perv and mentally destroyed again, Shirazu dies and the bitch is like like “lol it’s your fault” yeah helpful, die

10. P- the- the porn chapter-

Idk about you but that was so fucking unecessary??? Not even going off of how terribly awkward and weird it was to have it there when the opening was “i’m sad about my best friend who’s gonna get executed what do you do when you’re sad about your best friend” “i simply do not think of him or i might actually just curl up and die” “yo lmao same” “wanna fuck” Like ok um I’m biased bc i’m not straight but I like, really hated that. Even just flipping through the pages as fast as I could to get to the end of it like. God. It’s not a fucking hentai. I’m here for the plot. If you’re not gonna release the director’s cut of kaneki fucking voring hide, i don’t think i need to see 20 pages of straight fucking sex. And if you absolutely must have porn, kaneki is a fucking bottom. That man gets pegged do not try to prove otherwise. You started it out that way god I love how they’re like “oh god wait that looks kind of gay, the woman being dominant, better stop that right now” god Ishida not having a single iota of knowlege about his own characters aND THEN SHE GETS PREGNANT? NO. Excuse me. No. I just. I. Why. This isn’t. A fucking porno. This isn’t tentacle porn i swear oh my god kill me

11. Giving the wrong characters attention

Basically, redeeming characters that should have been redeemed and not going into/discussing characters that should have been redeemed/had more backstory. For example, Tsukiyama can go fucking die. I like, do not even care rich boy. I don’t understand how anyone could think he needed to be redeemed he’s just a gay attention whore who really needs to let this kid get on with his merry fucking life. I don’t care. I literally did not need to read three whole books about his dumbass hangup over eating Kaneki. Kaneki doesn’t fucking want you bitch move on. He didn’t need to be redeemed or seen to be in any way sympathetic, no one wanted it. Same with that bitch ass Furuta, he wasn’t really redeemed but he was given w a y too much time to play out his sob story. God man Rize doesn’t fucking want you. These gross ass simps. I swear.

On the other hand, I kind of liked Eto even though she’s a pile of shit, and I got mad when they didn’t really go into much about her. And you know who could have gotten much more screen time/development? TOUKA. God, I love her and she was just sitting around in the background being straight. Let her have some spicy development. Also obviously, Hide. He was... so underappreciated and underexplained? What happened with him? He didn’t just pick himself off the ground in the sewers and go ‘well i’d better get back to the ccg now’ we have a whole two years which are completely unexplained, most of which he was off mysteriously being involved in things but completely missing the eye of Haise and other major players. Where tf was he? How did he get around? What was he even doing??? I wanna know about that! Not all the characters I hate’s tragic backstories that make me feel 0% more sympathetic towards them :)

12. ARE WE ALL JUST GONNA COLLECTIVELY IGNORE THE WHOLE VORE THING???

Ok like i know i say “the entire reason I read :re was __” but like to be honest this was the turning point, I saw pictures of hide’s vore face and went like

So I was like “god fucking damn it ok, Ishida would you care to explain this to me” *cracks open re*

And then they DIDN’T.

Like. It’s actually laughable how much that entire situation was just glossed over. They gave that maybe like two pages. Like what. I. This manga has more sex scene than no homoing that. They just don’t even bother to. I feel like Ishida had that as a plot point but realized halfway in how it looked (i.e., really fucking gay) and decided that was something that he was just gonna, not deal with. Just act like that’s a completely normal heterosexual bro thing to do. Like of course anywhere would be pretty gay but Kaneki chose his face. His face. Like his face and his wholeass neck and his shoulders and nowhere else. (and assumedly like, his tongue, seeing as how the dude can’t talk... bruh) Dude really said extreme hickey. French kiss to the max. Ishida clearly did realize that generally, you can only get a bitten off face by,,, having your face bitten off, which is just inherently really fucking gay. Like, I’m just at a loss as to how it even makes sense. You wouldn’t think that the skin off his face, and specifically around his mouth, would really be the most nutritious thing to consume? I can get like the shoulders but generally you’d think something like his arm or leg would be 1.less inconvenient, and 2.much more logical and nutritious? But NO, Kaneki was like “you know what i’m gonna do? eat your Face” and hide’s like “lmao sounds cool”

(not to mention, wasn’t there another guy with a vore face somewhere? like that old guy in the ccg with the bigass turtleneck, i wanna know about him) But like... my bro Ishida went “yeah this happened but i’m going to cover it up with speech bubbles and the ends of panels guys they clearly had their socks on” Dude didn’t even TRY to explain otherwise. Like hey man, that’s pretty damn gay, you are kind of at liberty to either tell me why otherwise, or accept those implications and acknowledge them?? It’s really hilarious when you ignore it cause it’s like

kind of

pretty damn

WEAK of you to leave it at that fucking pissbaby

hmmmmmmmmm however could this happen i guess we’ll never know

13. What the fuck was even the plot omg

God I’ve been writing this post for like five hours so like, I’ll keep it short but like it made sense in the original, not to be like an anime fan but the anime made fucking sense (not re i mean like the original) this lore is so fucking stupid god, the horrors of the entire fucking dragon arc bleach my eyes, unresolved plotlines who???? (the whole ‘oh yeah also ur dying of old age’ thing etc, is kaneki like??? still doing that?? or was that randomly resolved with the whole spewing ovary bullshit i’m going to fucking kill myself) and to top it off, good job Ishida at a real fucking cheap ending. 

You gave them. Fake human. Really? They just come up with artificial human at the end. Kind of undermines the entire fucking story my guy. Ah yes throw out our whole plot. That was the whole tragedy. You gotta eat human. The ghouls have to eat human and that’s tragic bc they have to kill people or whatever. Or i guess they fucking don’t well fucking ok. God you could have just had them negotiate a kind of peace where the ghouls can get dead humans and such, there are plenty of them and no one has to kill anyone then, there could be a rule system for it, it would be messy but eventually everyone would be ok with it, and I think that would work a lot better than “quick fix i made some hamburger helper human you can eat it fine” guys wtf. It’s like Ishida started plotting out the ending for re approximately 2 hours before his deadline. Anyway yes I hate re and I love yelling about it thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[just-another-wasteland-merc]

Writing Tag

I was tagged by @adventuresofmeghatron and @suppuration , thank you guys!

I tag @thenightmotherwrites , @trashkingnyx, @thewastelandwriter, and whoever wants to do this, and there’s absolutely no pressure if you don’t want to. I would love to see!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

2. Honest.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

27,292 words, but that’s going to go up into the 30 thousands pretty quickly here once I finish editing the new chapter for Stimpacks!

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Well, I only have two works so far (that will also be expanding soon)

Stimpacks and Sniper Rounds- F!SoSu/MacCready- Em and Mac’s first longfic.

December, 2288- F!SoSu/MacCready- a quick songfic that might already get a re-write.

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I always try to. I like having the author interact with the community and talking about the fic. To me, it’s a way to speak to my readers directly too. I like that sense of community.

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Honestly, the only completed fic is December, 2288, and it has no angst at all. But that doesn’t mean that Stimpacks won’t have it. I have angst planned, but I have no idea if that will change in the future. 

The rest is under Keep Reading!

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

December, 2288. It’s just them dancing in celebration, and it’s fluffy with Feelings. Stimpacks will have happy in it, I just need to get there, haha.

7. Do you write crossovers? If so, what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I don’t think the Mass Effect AU is a crossover, cause I’m only taking three people from the fallout universe and plunking them into Mass Effect, and their character changes due to the equipment and state of the galaxy instead of the state of the Wasteland. Honestly, I’m surprised how well they’re fitting into the universe! I’m excited to unveil it to everyone.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

When I was still on ff.net, yes. But after the long hiatus and coming to a new fandom, I have not. Everyone really seems to like Em, and the pair of Em and Mac, so I’m very grateful to have a lovely community welcome me back to writing.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Alright, listen. I’m improving my smut game here. My improvement is through role-play. But! I also have a steamy shower scene that I need to really finish, and I have one still in my head that’s pretty smutty.

Em and Mac are horndogs, okay? Let them just have at it. Even if I can’t articulate what’s happening without blushing or giggling, just know they’re banging a lot. They’re in their twenties! And they’re in love. 

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope!

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope. 

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have not. I don’t really count roleplay either yet until it’s posted (and it might, I’m not sure). So, as soon as you see a link, I have not co-written anything yet.

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

It’s Em and Mac. I have a couple of other ships sailing around somewhere, but this one has been carefully constructed, and they have the most depth out of all my ships. I think maybe because it’s a part of myself in Em? Or a good portion? Unsure.

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I had a Star Wars fic in the brainstorming stage with a few scenes written down, but I honestly doubt I’ll get to it anymore. It’s been so long. I also wrote for Pirates of the Caribbean, but due to some personal things, I don’t think I’ll ever finish that one either. 

15. What are your writing strengths?

I received some feedback on some decent descriptions, and how I’m spinning a few familiar scenes in a new way that is fresh, or capturing the tension of some quests. Personally, I think I’m okay with dialogue. Keep it realistic, using words I know characters will use too keep them in character. It’s nice. 

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

I am HORRIBLE at slow-burn. Even reading it. I’m constantly yelling “JUST KISS ALREADY” at my own characters even. So I’m hoping that Stimpacks will be better paced. Plus I have a couple of friends to help keep me in check if I don’t realize I’m moving too fast. 

Btw, Em and Mac, you gonna kiss yet? No? Sigh, fine.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I think it’s really cool, like having characters orignally from another country, or if they spoke it at home. Muttering things in their language under their breath is so great. Call me a dickhead again, it sounds great. Hahah.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Actually, I wrote fic for Red vs. Blue first. Then PoTC before the Big Hiatus.

19. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

So far its Stimpacks. The story sort of told itself to me while I played the game, refined it on a second playthrough, finished Em’s face on the third, and now I just fall in love over and over again with every new playthrough. Sure, there are a few departures from canon, but I hope everyone who reads it is having as much fun as I am as I write it. 

[sopxhiea]

Distant

Summary: Social distancing with Alfie.

From here

Alfie Solomons X Reader

A/n: I know the timeline of the spanish flu and peaky blinders doesn’t quite add up but I personally needed this at a time like now so I do hope you find some comfort in it :) - I’m so sorry i don’t know what this is.

There is food everywhere. He sees them in bags, in shopping baskets and on the chairs. There’s canned food, whole foods and even an insane amount of hygiene products resting on the dining table.

He can barely walk to get to you.

There’s no sign of you, for now at least but if this wasn’t you, who did this?

He get scared for a second, did you leave him and do this as some sort of revenge? You know he doesn’t cook much if it’s not for you and this will all go bad soon if he turns around the corner and you aren’t there.

But you are.

Your figure brings a smile to his lips, he’s missed you but he also thinks you’re going crazy. You only got the things you would need if you wanted to stay inside for a month, the house needs a lot of supplies on the daily and the thought of being kept indoors for god knows how long scared you so you bought anything that you thought would come in handy. 

Things for baking, cooking, cleaning and snacks, hygiene products, a couple clothes and things like card games when you are bored.

You don’t play cards.

You don’t see him at first, too busy putting things in order while walking around the house. It isn’t as hard for you walk around like him, you’re dainty, small whereas he’s practically a beast. You make your way towards the kitchen easily, finding small spaces to put your feet in and that’s when you see him.

He gives you a smile, a grunt follows when you make your way up to him, he lifts you up by the slightest so that you can plant a kiss on his lips. You feel his hands on your waist and they don’t leave after the kiss, he embraces you instead.

You don’t complain when his whole body engulfs yours, the smell of rum and vanilla fills your lungs as you find comfort in him. He has the habit of being clingy but only with you behind closed doors. He’s the tough guy in the crowd.

He takes in your smell, questions still afloat in his mind but he pushes them back for a bit and hugs you a little tighter, it had been a hard week for him.

When you retreat yourself from his embrace, you first find the sweet blue orbs you love so much but then, his whole face turns into a confused expression. You wait for him to speak, he proves you right after voicing his thoughts not a second later.

“Luv, what the fuck is all ‘his?” he asks, his voice is low which earns a chuckle from you, it feels like he’s whispering.

You knew he’d be confused, you were too but when you heard the police make an announcement, you didn’t want to risk anything. He wouldn’t have known, since he and Ollie are both stuck in that bakery every hour of the day and they don’t have interest in anything that’s not a gang war when it comes to the outside world.

You don’t blame him but speak up as to ease his worries.

“You remember the twins around the corner?” you speak, slowly pointing at where you were getting since it wouldn’t make sense for you to jump into the conclusion straight away. Or so you think.

He nods, tugging at his beard as he watches you put things in the shelves, he knows you’re gonna need help for the higher ones but he wants the hear what it’s all about before helping.

“The boxer twins, yeah.” he speaks, lifting you up so that you can reach the top shelf, he gives in too easy.

He knowns the twins, they boxed but stopped when they got sick a couple of weeks back. It wasn’t anything important for sure, but they were now practically dying. The flu had gotten worse and you had told Alfie about it a little but he had dismissed it, you didn’t want it to come back and bite him in the ass because he hand’t been tentative.

“They have got this thing....a flu..” you said, making him smile lowly.

A flu was taking these huge men down?

“I think they call it the Spanish flu..” you said, eyes searching his but his stayed glued to the floor. He was calculating something in his mind. Your eyes met his cheeks, caressing the trimmed beard as his eyes met yours at last, you gave him a smile and explained further.

“It’s killing people and we need to stay inside so that we’re safe. you said, knowing this old man would want to go outside to do work, he was a workaholic after all.

His eyes didn’t leave yours, he nodded at first and you let go after kissing his temple. He was not going to say anything now that you were being sweet about it, he wouldn’t miss a chance to enjoy this lovey side of you but why hadn’t he heard of it?

He didn’t mind what you said for that day, he helped you put things in place and settled on the big sofa, your body soon rested on top of his as he read to you, slowly drifting to sleep while you held onto him.

He didn’t believe it until he got a call from Ollie later that day, saying one of the boxer twins was now dead because of the flu. 

(three weeks later)

You shifted on your chair, rubbing your eyes while Cyril shifted beneath your feet, he was falling asleep. You blinked, you hadn’t seen Alfie since breakfast and sure, it wasn’t a small house you were living in but he usually never left your side.

If it was any other time, he wouldn’t feel as tense as he was feeling since he would be able to take care of himself but now, there were doubts in his mind. What if something happened to you?

He already heard the news of people all around the city, either dead or worse, slowly drifting from this world in a painful way. He wasn’t paranoid but he had this nerve that kept him awake for a couple of nights now. He didn’t want you to get hurt, it wasn’t like he was leaving the house everyday, he hadn’t left for the past week but what if somehow, you had gotten sick. He didn’t know of what he would do.

It felt like his hands were tied behind him, unable to move.

You knew of the worries he casted in his heart, you could see the rings under his eyes but you wouldn’t say anything. You knew he would come to you when it’s time. He always did.

Your eyes chased the words on the page before you, ignoring the moving dog under where you were sitting when Alfie came in from the balcony. He was admiring the view, it had been a long time since the streets had been empty so he took the chance to take a look. He saw your silent form and sat next to you on the spacious sofa, taking your legs and putting them over his. He didn’t disturb you in any way since this had been a common occurrence for the past three weeks you spent inside.

“Dove..” you heard his voice, he was trying to control the tension and you smiled at the attempt, your hand found his hair as you caressed it, enjoying his reaction as you looked up at him from the book.

“Yeah?” you closed the book, not moving your eyes from his as he grunted under your gaze. The words would come to him soon.

“I...need to talk to ye’.” he said, he didn’t look at you but focused on caressing your leg, he needed to gather his words.

“I’m listening Alfie..” your voice was sweet, inviting almost as he looked up at you.

“I’ve heard, yeah, about the fucking twins and all..” he sighed as you kept your gaze on him. “..and I didn’t believe it, yeah, at first cuz’ it seemed fucking farfetched yeah?” you nodded, you knew about his feelings from how distant he’d been to the topic, but he was coming around and that was enough.

“Go on..” you nudged him gently, he was getting to the point but it took him some time.

You knew he usually had a crowded mind, it was a part you adored. It had been one that you’d gotten to see after being with him for so long and it was twisted, confusing and it just made him even more beautiful in your eyes.

“I don’t wan’, yeah, nothin’ to happen to ya’.” he spat out, eyes filled with worry as they met yours, you had a smile on your face.

You knew how to ease his worries, you’d done plenty of it when he’d come around with a thousand things on his mind and you’d help him put things back into place while talking the night away, you were his safe place.

“I know..” you nodded, getting closer to him on the sofa as your body straddled his, you hated how worried he seemed.

“Nothing will happen to me because I’m safe, yeah?” he nodded at your words as you continued, he seemed like a scared kid as your hands caressed his cheeks. “...I’m here with you..” you gulped, wanting to voice your worries as well.

“..You’re safe, too..” you needed him to hear the reality of things, he’d been up all night creating too many nightmares while he was awake. “And we’ll be careful, so that we’re safe..” he heard his grunt, it was one of relief.

He kissed your cheeks, hands finding your thighs as you sat on top of him. He needed reassurance, so did you. With just how bleak things seemed, you needed him to be okay and so did he. You only had each other and the times were scary, it was love that kept you going.

It was unknown when it would end and when things would go back to normal, maybe it would always be different from then on but the only thing that wouldn’t change was the affection, the love you had for him and the warmth of his skin against yours. It would be your heart beating against his, your voice getting lost in his louder one while he would speak. You needed it to stay the same.

You needed his laughter that would bloom every time you would make a comment, you needed his arms around you while you laid on the bed reading. You needed to hear his voice, the one that would create goosebumps of your skin. He was your one and only and you were his, you were lucky to have found each other and had no intention of letting go.

As you laid on his lap while your slow breaths caressed his face, his hands found your legs, making you lay on top of him. There was no sudden motion in the room, just the reassuring touch of his fingers on your hair as he felt your soft locks, you laid on top of him while his body engulfed yours. Cyril curled up next to the bodies on top of each other, not making a noise while you held him close.

And it’d be okay.

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Hey! I hope you and your family are all well and safe, please be careful and kind ♡ I hope this brought some comfort to your heart and it’ll be fine, we’re gonna be alright♡ don’t be so hard on yourself and feel free to message me!♡

[thecandywrites]

Jewel Of The North Part 11

Woo, this was so much fun. Karma begins to sink her teeth into Alorna and Doug. Meanwhile Noah and our dear reader Zara draw closer and closer. Que- Lady in Red.

Many thanks to @monstersandmaw​ for sharing ice orcs with me. I am having a blast. Enjoy. 

Jewel Of The North

Part 11

The next morning, you accidentally slept in because you were up half the night getting some of the best sex of your life and reconciling with Noah and having the best heart to heart while you were fucking the other’s brains out and this morning you felt like you were running around like a chicken with your head cut off trying to get ready on time and Noah walked you to the spa himself and you weren’t five steps from it before you saw Alorna and Doug at the counter, getting last minute upgrades on their services and about to go into it and both you and Noah stopped dead in your tracks and gasped and squeezed the other’s hand tightly and you doing that made Alorna and Doug turn around to look and one look made them freeze and breathe in tightly and the looks on their faces were priceless as they looked like they both had been caught with their pants down as both you and Noah quickly got your phones out and got pictures of them, together for proof of where they were and why the couldn’t be found back on the mainland.              

And seeing them, you and Noah looked at each other before looking back at them and started busting out laughing and pointing because the odds of the four of you meeting back up, let alone like this- was astronomical. So it was either by fate that you met or by the craziest coincidence. Yesterday you would have wanted to beat them both to a pulp. Today- though, you didn’t care. You had your family and a clean conscience and you knew they couldn’t boast of that last one and you knew Karma was about to bite them in the ass and you knew that justice was coming for them and for you. 

“Oh my gods, you left John for Doug?” Noah asked his sister. 

“What if I did?” Alorna shirked with a shrug. 

“I mean you’re a stupid, faithless bitch either way and incase you missed it, I officially disown you. By the way, since you seem to have been ignoring your phone, I think you should know I got a text from your soon to be ex husband, telling me that you had skipped out of town on a cruise and he officially called all his credit cards that you have- in as stolen and cancelled your check card and kicked you off the checking account at the bank. And his lawyer is expediting your divorce and all your stuff is at the community center and that he changed the locks on the doors. But at least he left you your car.” Noah informed her as he pulled up his text from John on his phone and read it off to her. 

“What?” Alorna blanched as she came over to look at his phone to read it herself. 

“Even if that’s true, Sweetheart, you can move all your things in with me.” Doug offered Alorna which made her beam smugly at her brother. 

“Thank you Baby, I knew I could depend on you.” Alorna practically sang as she sauntered back to him and kissed him sweetly as you just stood there and shook your head as you texted your picture to Summer and gave her the update as even more updates came pouring into your own phone.  

“Well, if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment I need to keep.” You excused yourself and went up to the desk to check in for your own appointment. 

“What are you getting done?” Doug asked you curiously from down the counter.

“Nothing. It’s an interview and sales pitch to be an onboard LMT, I get the ultimate cruise experience and elite package in a King’s Suite for free just for about an hour or so of my time and any money I spend on this cruise, I write off as a business expense, both personally and from a business expense for all of my businesses. So while this cruise is free, I get to enjoy a twenty thousand dollar tax break for myself and for each of my businesses, which considering all four of them and counting myself, is a whole hundred thousand dollars. Not bad for an hour or two of my time eh?” You returned with a smugness of your own as Doug and Alorna’s jaw dropped in jealous disbelief. 

“Enjoy your time at the spa.” You offered sweetly before you paused and turned to address them head on. 

“Oh by the way, before you go, I should remind you- just in case you didn’t know, there is always legal backlash for defaming and maligning a priestess of Aura. Because my lawyers have already been in contact with every single elder in every clan up here and especially with every single elder on the councils and got so many statements of what you two said about me to them and already have more than enough evidence to sue you both and it doesn’t matter if and when which of you turns on the other or not, both of you will answer for what you’ve done. You should know that the last person to defame a priestess of Aura, was sued for a 150 million dollars in damages, and the out of court settlement ended up being 15 million. So you’ll be hearing from my lawyers when you do get home and currently you’re both in the process of getting warrants out for your arrest because defaming and threatening a public figure which all priestesses of Aura are, is an arrest-able offense in every country in the world and an expedite-able offense too. So enjoy jail. I doubt anyone but me will have pockets deep enough to bail you out and there’s no way in hell I would ever do that either. But I hope this little affair was worth it for you.” You offered, your tone sweet as honey but the gravitas of what you were saying hit them both like a ton of bricks Noah beamed the happiest, proudest smile. 

“Yes! In your faces motherfuckers!” Noah cheered as he gave them both the bird. 

“Baby, I’m gonna be sitting right over here until you get out.” Noah informed you happily as he pointed to a chair before he strutted over and settled into it. 

“You’re lying. That’s the worst bluff I’ve ever heard.” Alorna scoffed at you. 

“I guess we’ll see when you get off the ship, in any port you do get off at. You’ve fucked around, now you get to find out.” You smiled smugly back with a shrug. 

“Ms. Kingsley?” Sharon- the spa’s manager called when she came out. 

“That’s me.” You confirmed as you went over to her and shook her hand and went back with her into the spa for your interview. 

“What if she wasn’t bluffing.” Doug murmured to Alorna before their own therapists came out to get them. 

“She has to be, she’s just trying to get the last word and the last laugh and steal our fun. It’s not gonna work.” Alorna insisted but Doug wasn’t sure before they went back into the spa. 

Noah happily texted his mom that you and him had fully reconciled and that he had told Alorna the ‘news’ of John’s divorce as his mother confirmed everything you had just told Doug and Alorna and that yesterday, shortly after you left, that she had gotten a call from a lawyer asking about the incident and that not only did she and Ukluk confirm the case, but so had Isla, Tonrar and everyone else involved and that the clan law was in the process of getting modified by each clan and that each clan was offering Zara a share of the tribal lands as recompense for believing the lies about her and were working on a formal apology and would be officially stripping Alorna and Doug of their clan standing and ties and that the police were involved and that there were indeed warrants out for their arrests and that cops were already contacting the cruise ship to let them know they were harboring wanted individuals. 

Noah simply giggled gleefully as he got up and went to the closest bar and got a celebratory drink before settling back into his spot.

Finally, after all this time, and pain and heartache and damage, his sister and Doug had caused, they were getting what was coming to them. Karma was real and was gonna bite them in the ass soon enough. And the best part about it, is he didn’t have to lift a finger and neither did you. All he had to do was stand by you and do right by you from now on, which he was more than prepared to do. Never again would he waiver from you. Because while you had lost the battle the other night, you sure as hell were going to win the war and just because you weren’t physically fighting or combative, didn’t mean that you weren’t fighting back, you were just fighting back in the best way possible. You were going to hit where it would hurt them the most. And Noah for one would rather get the shit kicked out of him rather than be abandoned by his clan. So he was supremely grateful.

He pulled out your check that had been in his pocket, and turned it over to read the back one more time. 

‘Dear Noah, please don’t think that I’m giving up. I’m not. I will never give up, not on you or on Sakura. And I will fight till my last breath for you both. I don’t want you to have to choose between your heritage, your culture and your birthright- and me. You deserve both. You both deserve everything you want. Love, happiness, honor, pride, heritage, roots and family. When you read this. I hope you’ll understand that as a priestess, there are rules I have to follow while in regalia. And I hope we find each other again soon. No matter what happens, I will always love you both- Sincerely, Zara.’ 

Even now, Noah wiped a stray happy tear from his eyes as he pressed the check to his heart. He had been a fool yesterday. A thankless bastard, a reprehensible asshole. But you redeemed him. Even when you shouldn’t have. And for that, he would always be grateful. And love you unconditionally and always treat you with the utmost care and respect. And treat your children as his own. Even if they both hated him at first. He would win them over by staying true to you and them. And he was always going to have your back and theirs and be the trustworthy rock you and they needed. He silently prayed to every god you both believed in and vowed this to them and when he had finished. A renewed sense of peace and happiness came and settled in him and renewed his spirit. 

The interview process did take about an hour and a half. But you came out of the spa, happy and smiling and laughing with the spa’s day manager before you practically strut over to him. 

“So? How’d it go?” He asked before you slid into his lap and drank the rest of his drink. 

“It went great, they offered me a job but sadly I had to turn it down because I actually want to be around for my kids and possible new husband and can’t do that living on a ship full time.” You hinted. 

“They have a jewelry store on this cruise ship right?” Noah asked. “I can get you a wedding ring right now.” He offered. 

“Don’t you dare, the jewelry on this ship is cheap in quality and sky high in price. I would much rather have a traditional ring from the clans or bead in my hair or whatever. Besides, if you do get me a ring, it’ll live on this necklace or any other necklace you get for me because I can’t wear jewelry on my hands for work. But I would wear it on my off days and special occasions.” You answered. 

“Besides. Call me old fashioned, but I want a traditional wedding with all the friends and family and all that and not some last minute thing on a cruise ship.” You urged him. 

“Me too.” Noah simply grinned as he happily wrapped his arms around you and held you comfortably. 

“So, let’s go get some brunch.” You urged him before you got off of him and offered him your hand to help him up which he gratefully took and once he was up to his full height he returned the glass to the bar and walked down to one of the restaurants on the ship with you comfortably under his arm. 

“I will say this though, could we get you some nice dress clothes for dinner?” You asked as you walked down the hallway with your own arm around his waist. 

“Sure.” Noah answered before you both gorged yourselves on a brunch then went shopping to get Noah a few things for the remaining nights of the cruise, including a black suit with a black dress shirt and black dress shoes with black socks with a few different ties and handkerchiefs that would match the dresses you brought so that you would match and so that Noah’s suit would be versatile. 

“Aww, I see you found her.” Maggie said as you guys walked past the customer service desk together, both of you carrying several bags each. 

“I did.” Noah grinned proudly. 

“So- what did you forget?” She asked you curiously. 

“His heart.” You answered truthfully. 

“Awww!” She gushed. “Really?” She asked as she looked from the two of you. 

“Yeah, we’ve been falling for each other since we first met each other, and it just took one good kick in the pants for me to come to my senses and come after her.” Noah revealed. 

“What was your kick in the pants?” She pressed giddily. 

“This.” Noah said as he showed her the back of the check before she and everyone else at customer service read it and started crying once you explained the whole story after putting your things on the counter so you wouldn’t have to keep holding them and it freed your hands up for your gestures. 

“So, I actually won’t be needing my cabin. I’m rooming with her.” He nodded over to you. 

“Well then I guess you need a refund for your suite don’t you? I mean you didn’t even really use the room at all, barely stepped your foot in it. So it doesn’t count, besides, we need the room for other guests anyway.” Maggie insisted before she got his room card and re-programed it so it would work for your room instead. 

“And I got you some ship credit for whatever else your hearts desire while sailing with us for any “inconvenience”. Oh this is straight out of a movie I swear!” Maggie swooned happily as she typed on her computer before she printed out receipts and stuff for you both. 

“Thank you so much for sharing. I ship you guys so hard. Here’s my email address, email me what happens, I want to know.” She insisted as she wrote down her personal email address to you. 

“Definitely.” You grinned before you got your stuff and went back to your suite together and got ready for dinner at the cruise’s most fancy restaurant. 

“Wow.” Noah breathed in awe before he wolf whistled at you from the comfort of the couch in the suite when he saw you walk out of the bathroom in a red dress that hugged your curves gorgeously and was sexy as sin. Your hair was done up, your makeup flawless, the red of your lipstick matching the shade and tone of the dress perfectly and your jewelry he could tell was older and most likely inherited from your late adopted grandparents. 

“Thank you.” You thanked him bashfully as you struck a few seductive poses for him. 

“That’s going to be real fun to take off.” Noah grinned as you could already see the beginnings of a hard on tent his pants. 

“Yes it will. Later of course, not right now, we have a reservation to keep.” You urged him as you got on two different pairs of shoes. 

“The red or the black?” You posed as you stood before him, switching from one foot to the other. 

“They both look amazing, pick whichever one is more comfortable.” He urged you. 

“They’re about the same. I’m going with red. Save the black for the little black dress.” You decided before you walked over to a chair and put the other red shoe on the other foot so now they matched before you found your shawl and put your things in a little clutch. “You ready?” You asked once you were all put together as you draped the shawl around your shoulders. 

“Ready.” Noah said as he turned the TV off and got up from the couch and straightened himself up before he was by your side in just a few strides and happily escorted you to dinner and smiled so proudly when everyone you walked past seemed to stop and stare at you strutting past them. You could tell most of them wanted to say something, a few of the brave ones whistling lowly after you passed them but one look from Noah had them biting their tongue and looking away guiltily. While Noah looked perfectly dashing- he was an ice orc after all and therefore- not someone to mess with and Noah happily escorted you to the restaurant where you got seated at a table in the center of the restaurant where you happily shrugged your shawl off and laid your clutch next to you in the comfortable armchairs. 

Noah wanted to pinch himself. Two weeks ago, he was bartering flights and airplane fuel and googling what he could make for dinner with only two or three ingredients and a handful of spices and he felt like he was treading water, barely keeping his head above water and begging his garden to ripen his produce faster so he could eat it and use it and he had been so grateful that Taylor had recommended him to you. You were one of the first clients to not haggle. He had given you a high price to start with, expecting to be haggled down. But you had accepted it and even sent him a deposit and that had set him straight and it was enough to ease the sinking feeling and gave him breathing room. And then the moment you walked into his life. Suddenly money was the last thing to matter to him. For the first time since childhood, money was not a major factor in anything. All that mattered was Sakura and you. Your safety, your wellbeing, your comfort, your happiness. And when you took to Sakura as easily and readily as you did, all he could do was thank the gods for answering his prayers for allowing the right woman into his life and Sakura’s life and for giving him the patience to wait for her. You were like a soothing balm to all the wounds losing Neena he and Sakura had sustained. 

Neena, while she was traditional in most senses and was an excellent mother and careful with money and expenses and incredibly thrifty and resourceful because she had to be, she was easily contented and not demanding at all, however she wasn’t the greatest lover, or cook. She was very reserved. And not expressively passionate. 

But you? Passion and heart, feeling and intuition was in everything you did. You were mild, gracious and generous when you wanted and needed to be but you didn’t let anyone walk all over you or take advantage of you and very protective. You were balanced between open yet discrete and an excellent judge of character. And you created such a safe, wonderful, nurturing, welcoming and relaxed environment wherever you were. And you were always, always- professional. You garnered respect wherever you went and whatever you did. And you were a goddess in both the bedroom and the kitchen and the perfect fit. 

He felt guilty comparing you with Neena. It wasn’t fair to either of you. He had married Neena out of obligation, because Isla had arranged it since his youth and being married to her was a lesson in patience and persistence and learning to adjust to the other and learning to be a team.  But to feel his heart and his soul and his mind light up brighter than the moon and the stars in the dark of night- when he met you, was something else entirely, it was an instant attraction rather than a growing to like, then love and working in tandem with you was second nature to him. You were an addiction for his soul. And he couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to have you in his life. And he was adamant, that he was never, ever going to be foolish enough to try let go- ever again. 

Soon enough, he noticed that your table didn’t have the usual two waiters, your table- had four. And all of them were practically drooling over you. Noah was used to only having great service at home. They were treating both you and him like royalty and he sincerely doubted he would get this kind of service if he wasn’t with you. But he was going to enjoy it and suddenly the table was full of all kinds of complementary offerings. And with you flashing that smile and remembering each waiter by name and being sweeter than sugar and honey, they were all eating out of your hands. Even the chefs and sous chefs came out to see how you liked their offerings and happily sent you away with a handsome spread of other desserts to enjoy in the room since you were quite full just from all the appetizers and tapas and entrees whether they were on the menu or not. 

On the way back to the room as both of you were carrying a few bags each, you passed Alorna and Doug who were leaving the casino and arguing bitterly with each other. Apparently they both had had some really bad luck in there and you and Noah simply snickered a laugh and shook your heads at their theatrics and drama. 

Once you were in the room Noah was all too happy to peel your red dress off of you so you could take your corset off and groaned in relief once your body wasn’t being restricted anymore which got Noah to chuckle as he got his own suit off. 

“Feel better?” Noah asked. 

“Much.” You answered before you went to the bathroom to wash all your makeup off and once you reappeared you found Noah in a simple t-shirt and a pair of night shorts as you had donned your own pajamas. 

“Dessert on the balcony?” You suggested. 

“Sure.” Noah nodded as he grabbed the bags as you two went out the porch as you grabbed a blanket and snuggled into the double sunchair together as you two got to digging into dessert. 

“So what are your hobbies?” You asked him curiously. 

“Like what?” He asked you. 

“Well, bedsides the flying, when it’s the off season, what do you like to do?” You asked as Noah took a big bite of cheesecake and thought it over as he chewed.  “Besides the things you have to do to live up here, what are the things you look forward to doing in your off time?” You clarified before you took a bite yourself. 

“Well I guess, just...making things and improving things. Two weeks ago, my winter plans were to rewire the parts of my plane I didn’t rewire last year. And the usual home improvements. Last winter I made Sakura a new dresser, so I’m kind of a jack of all trades.” Noah answered. 

“Well then I think I have something that will interest you, it’s a workshop and it’s a decent sized outbuilding. When Andy and I were designing the house, he wanted to have a space to do his tinkering, to work on the vehicles, to do some maintenance and whatever else he needed or wanted to do. So even after he died, I went ahead and built the workshop that’s bigger than a shed but not quite a pole barn. It’s big enough to do small to medium sized projects in, comfortably. Thanks to my brothers and brothers in law and my dad I was able to score a lot of various equipment for super cheap from a lot of the old estate sales and barn sales and such. Like I have a lot of woodshop equipment, mechanic stuff, forge stuff, blade-smithing stuff, blacksmithing stuff and the like. And my dad and all the men in my family, whenever they come over, I can always find them out there, fiddling with stuff. Like it could be a proper man cave. All it would need is like a couch and a tv. Because it already has a mini fridge for soda and beer along with a bathroom and washing facilities. It is a separate space from the stables, and the hay barn.” You informed him as you pulled out your phone and showed him pictures of it before he took the phone and zoomed in on some of the equipment was shown as Noah’s lips were pursed into a silent ‘ooh’. 

“Why do you have a hard on?” You teased as you noticed his half hard cock make an appearance in his shorts as you stroked your leg against it from half sitting in his lap.  

“Cause I’m looking at one of my biggest fantasies brought to life, in my wildest dreams I never would have imagined anything like that and my head is almost spinning with all kinds of ideas of everything I could do with all of this. It’s almost too good to be true. I mean that’s a….” Noah chuckled as he looked at it all before he started listing off what he saw and what he knew about all of it as you just smiled brighter and prouder as relief and validation and vindication flooded your mind. 

“Good.” You beamed. 

“Why did you build it if Andy wasn’t alive to enjoy it and use it?” Noah asked you thoughtfully.  

“Can you promise me not to freak out?” You posed. 

“Yeah.” Noah answered as he gave you a curious look. 

“Ok, so it was one of those- ‘build it and they will come’ kind of things. I had always planned in my head that if and when Andy would die, I would just up and move to the northern Great Lakes to be with the rest of my family. And then when Andy did die and we had already bought the property and were in the process of bulldozing the existing farm house and clearing brush and trees to make room for the house. I flirted with the idea of still cutting ties and just up and moving. But Olga surprised me by coming down to see me and she advised not making any rash decision with a broken heart and not to let my past ideas limit my current potential. And she had me bring her out there. And she ended up doing a peering right then and there, among the dirt and gravel. She told me to not change my plans of moving there, that my roots where I was- were already deep enough to sustain me and my family and if I uprooted myself and my family that I would damage them and me more than help them and myself. That I had the will, the means and the ability to build my dreams right there, from start to finish and that if I built it, they would come true. I just had to lay the foundations. To grow a garden, you ready the soil and then plant. I had already started to ready the soil. What I grew from there depended on how much soil I readied and what I planted. Both literally and figuratively. And that by the time my heart was ready, everything else would be ready too. And when she shared that with my family, they were all too happy to help in any way they could. When I had full control of all the funds from all of my inheritance from my adopted grandparents- I went back to the design firm and did a complete redesign and because I now had, literal millions to play with, I was able to design my dream house with all the flourishes and thoughtful touches and dreams and fantasies I had initially wanted but gave up because they didn’t fit the utilitarian point of view Andy had and I got to plan and execute it exactly how I wanted it. And even when there were little hiccups with the construction. I was ok with it. Because I wanted it to be perfect and it was. And then after it was built, and I was furnishing it and suddenly my dad, my father in law and my brother and brothers in law drug me to all these estate sales and barn sales and I got a ton of equipment for super cheap. And Olga told me that the right man would recognize what I have and know exactly how to use it best, not just in my self but with what I had. Which you just demonstrated for me, cause you knew what all of that was and I am willing to bet that you have at least a dozen ideas of what to do and how to use it all in your head.” You grinned proudly as you tapped the side of his head affectionately.  

“Oh at least a hundred.” Noah admitted happily before he turned to kiss your fingers and your palm with equal affection.

“I look forward to seeing them.” You insisted as you snuggled further together. 

[lovelyirony]

Stars with thorbruce

Bruce remembers his mother’s hand smoothing over his curls, telling him stories of how the constellations came to be. He remembers hearing soft words of using the Big Dipper for milk and cookies. He smiles as he remembers asking his mother who lived among the stars. 

They were beautiful, surely someone had to live there. 

His mother smiled. 

“You will find it out, my smart boy. None of us know yet, although some of us have a feeling that we’re not alone in this galaxy.” 

Bruce would look out his window every night and ask the stars who among them lived in what world. He asked how their world was. 

Thor knew others lived other places. His mother read Loki and he stories of other people, how they lived. 

His father said how Asgard ruled it all with a golden-hued hand. 

He asks of Terran people, Midgardians. 

“You don’t need to concern yourself with them,” Odin says. “Now go and train. A weak king serves no purpose on a strong throne.” 

- 

Bruce does not smile when he realizes that there are others out there, not when he’s been dragged in as a monster to help fight other monsters. Accepted, just this once. 

He looks up at beings who look like stars for one brief second. And then they descend with a roar, and he knows. 

He turns, letting Hulk take the lead. 

His mother knew they were not alone. 

But she could not have known this was the result.  

- 

Thor is…different. He returns from taking his brother back to…Asgard? And he is quiet. 

Bruce just quietly moves around him to get his tea or food. 

“Dr. Banner?” Thor asks, his voice impossibly soft. It does not fit a man who is as large and imposing as he is. “Can you…what can you tell me about Earth?” 

“It sucks,” Bruce answers automatically. 

Thor blinks. 

Bruce does not want to explain why earth sucks. So he takes his naan and goes back to his room. 

- 

The god cannot leave well enough alone. He is knocking on Bruce’s door at eight o’clock in the morning. 

Bruce answers in an old t-shirt that’s seen better days, old pants, and bags under his eyes. 

“Why does earth suck so much?” 

Bruce sighs. 

“Go to the kitchen. I’ll explain there.” 

Bruce goes into a long-winded tangent about how much human invented concepts suck and how policy makes everything slow and he can’t even fly in a plane because he’s deemed a flight risk and people keep trying to kill him and the unending guilt over his own mistakes will be his demise. 

“Do you guys have therapy on earth?” Thor asks. 

Bruce laughs. 

“Yeah, we do. I need to find a new therapist soonish. Just hard with my…issue. Earth doesn’t suck. It’s cool.” 

“Show me?” 

“Uh…yes?” Bruce asks, blinking. “What do you want to see?” 

“What’s your favorite thing about earth?” 

Bruce has to think. 

“Come with me tonight. On the roof.” 

- 

The stars are never as bright as they were in Ohio, which is about the only good thing Bruce can say about Ohio. It’s the only good thing anyone could say, really. 

“Are you serious?” 

“Yes, never go there,” Bruce says. “Ever.” 

“…noted. Not even for one of your natural…reserve park things?” 

“Nope. Not even for those. You’re gonna get murdered there.” 

“I’m a god, Bruce.” 

“Ohio people only believe in one god, and that god is less jacked than you.” 

They laugh together. 

Bruce tells him all about his mother’s stories of the stars, what he learned from others. 

“Do you want to hear our stories?” Thor asks softly. 

They make a habit of going on the roof once a week, weather permitting. If it does not permit, they sit in the sunroom and have coffee, chatting that way. 

Bruce learns that Thor was alive when Nikola Tesla was, but never went to earth. 

“I was in training to become king, and Odin didn’t really want me venturing out too far,” Thor says. “But I heard that earth had some catching up to do. You definitely have us beat with food though. Damn.” 

They stare over at the stars. 

Bruce struggles to ignore his red cheeks or the fact that Tony keeps calling him “lover boy.” 

“Nope. I’m not that.” 

“Sure you aren’t, the rest of us spend time gazing into Thor’s eyes,” Tony says, batting his eyelashes. “Just ask him out already.” 

“Get therapy,” Bruce shoots back. 

“Are we talking about how we all need collective help?” Natasha asks. “I thought that was what Steve’s meeting was about tonight.” 

“Shit, I’m not going to that then,” Clint says. “Do you think he’ll buy it if I tell him that my dog has a son?” 

“I don’t buy anything, I grew up in the Great Depression,” Steve responds, coming down the stairs. “Also Clint, you have a dog? Since when?” 

“Since never,” Clint responds back. “I don’t have a dog.” 

“Good, Tony said no dogs.” 

“For Steve,” Tony mumbles. “But we’‘re missing the obvious part of this discussion, which is Bruce’s love-life.” 

“I don’t have one of those in stock.” 

“Check in the back,” Tony snarks. 

Bruce rolls his eyes. 

“I don’t have a love-life guys,” Bruce says. “The only thing I love is dismantling huge corporations that are evading ecological law.” 

“And also hanging out a ton with Thor,” Natasha responds. “Wait, are you–” 

“If we have to talk about emotions then I demand we discuss Natasha’s thirsty tweet about Sharon.” 

“My cousin, Romanoff?!” Tony yells. 

Bruce takes this time to escape down to his lab, where Natasha is not allowed in. 

“I cannot say with full certainty that she will not break in,” Jarvis answers. “But I will try my best, Dr. Banner. Hell hath no woman like a woman.” 

“You’re just as bad as Tony with phrases,” Bruce says. “But thanks.” 

Thor is down there. 

“Why is Natasha locked out of the lab?” 

“She told me that she preferred wine from California, she was obviously banned,” Bruce says quickly. 

“I thought last week’s argument was you and her against Clint,” Thor says. “And I think you won? Clint thought his expired Kool-Aid was wine. That was a very sad night.” 

Bruce freezes. 

“Ha. Yeah. That was right. She’s still banned.” 

“What was the debate upstairs about? I heard snippets about it. Tony said something about checking in the back? Is he mad about the fruit again? He can’t expect to buy strawberries and them to still be there.” 

Bruce laughs. 

“Nah, Steve’s having a group talk about therapy options for us. I think Tony’s gonna try and con his way out of it by pushing Bucky in front of him. It won’t work.” 

- 

As it turns out, Natasha has swift revenge. 

She can’t break into the lab. 

But she can make sure the two of them can’t break out. 

“Until you confess the door is gonna be closed,” Natasha says over the intercom. 

“Confess what?” Thor asks, looking nervous. 

“Oh…you know. Stuff. Now you have to by six, otherwise Steve will break you out and then you have to say it as a duo. Do you want to tell all of us or just the two of you…alone?” Nat asks. 

“Fuck you,” Bruce says, flipping off the sensor. 

- 

Thor’s nervous. He…this is new. He hasn’t liked someone is what is probably about two thousand years. 

Bruce is…he’s different. 

He likes the small things and rants about how stupid the smallest things are (like his least favorite spoon) and also looks phenomenal when the sun is shining and he’s laughing about a new story and…

Thor wants a forever. He’s known forever. 

But he hasn’t known forever with Bruce. 

And now they’re locked in his lab. 

Bruce bangs his head against the table. 

“Think Steve will break us out?” 

Thor is about to answer when the intercom comes to life again. 

“No, he won’t be,” Tony says. “I’ve managed to convince him to share his PowerPoint on what kind of fork he wants to reorder for the kitchen. He got passionate about what design he wants on the handle.” 

There’s a muffled yell that sounds suspiciously like “no curvature on the handle!” and then silence. 

“God,” Bruce mutters. 

They sit in silence for a moment. Thor’s not exactly sure what to say. It’s not like they make Hallmark cards for “you’re the first person I’ve loved in about two millennia and I want you to be mine until the earth implodes.” 

Similarly they don’t make a Hallmark card for “I thought I was incapable of love but now I’ve fallen in love with you and you’re a god and I’m a near-indestructible chaos-bringer.” 

It’s a work in progress for the card-making interns, honestly. 

“What did Nat mean by talking to me?” Thor asks. “I know this is probably gonna be awkward. Wouldn’t be locked into a lab if it wasn’t.” 

If Bruce had had maybe ten minutes to himself, he would’ve come up with a good lie. One that he could say without shifting eyes or a stuttering mouth. But he can’t. Lying takes time. 

“So I’m pretty sure I like you. As in want to take you out on a date like you. And I didn’t tell you because you’re a god.” 

Thor blinks. 

“Bruce no offense but you calling me a god and also seeing me at my lowest in salmon board shorts? Hilarious.” 

Bruce gives him a face. 

“You know what I mean.” 

“And I was going to say that I like you, but you are a brilliant scientist who changed your world through discovery, not by force,” Thor responds. “You love helping others and you also turn into a giant green guy who likes food trucks and hates not smashing things.” 

Bruce blinks. 

“Did we–?” 

“Yeah, we did. I also think this means we have an excuse to miss both Steve’s presentation on fork styles as well as his call for therapy, which in reality was only for Clint.” 

The lab doors open. Bruce automatically flips Natasha off, but is met with Natasha flipping him off. 

“Tony wants to talk to me about my ‘intentions’ with his cousin because of you, Banner. This means war.” 

“Well now I have a guy who has a giant, unliftable hammer on my side,” Bruce says defensively. He grabs onto Thor’s hand, grinning. “Just try me.” 

Thor smiles too. 

“I believe I owe Bruce a few more dates, so we will regrettably be missing Clint’s intervention,” Thor says. “See you later!” 

Clint makes a groupchat with them in it only to send: 

:((((( guys :( 

They don’t check it until the morning, after Bruce rolls over and complains that Thor has way better pillows. 

[calumcest]

there’s no time for running away now

so me exposing myself: yes i write fics that i never post. here is one of them that i’m pretty sure i wrote while completely out of my fucking mind at like 2am and have not re-read or edited so? absolutely cannot guarantee the quality of this fic in any way shape or form please do not hold me accountable for any of its content. unless you like it in which case please do hold me accountable because i require at least 3 doses of validation a day to survive. also this fic was literally me coming up with the final line and then writing 2.4k just to have a reason to have it

It’s three a.m., and Ashton’s awake. 

On the surface, that might not appear to be a problem. And ordinarily, it wouldn’t be - ordinarily, Ashton would either roll over groggily, will sleep to come with every fibre of his being and maybe a quick prayer or two, or read something mind-numbingly boring like his urgent work emails to send him back to sleep. This, however, isn’t the most ordinary situation. 

Ashton is awake because of Luke. 

And, okay, that’s a bit of an unfair characterisation. It’s actually Ashton’s racing thoughts keeping him up, but since Luke’s the focus of said thoughts swirling in a huge cluster through Ashton’s mind, overlapping and interlocking so Ashton can’t pick them apart from the love love love that’s threading through them all, he’s going to blame it on Luke. And it’s not exactly Ashton’s fault he’s in love with Luke, is it? He’d challenge anyone to spend years crammed in tight spaces with Luke Hemmings and not fall in love with him. 

(Michael and Calum don’t count, obviously. Ashton’s never seen two people so blinkered by love in his life, and he’s equal parts envious of their deep, easy love and grateful that they’re not his competition. He’s not sure he could take on Calum’s thoughtfulness if it came down to it.) 

The real problem is that Ashton’s alone. They’re in a hotel, some shitty place in northern England that Ashton can’t even remember the name of, but they’d all been so ecstatic to find out that they had a room each (each!) that they hadn’t been able to bring themselves to care. They’d all hopped straight in the shower, washing off three days’ worth of sweat and grime, and then one by one dropped out of the group chat (Ashton had heard Calum’s door clicking open and shut, muted footsteps and muffled voices), until Ashton thought he was the only one left awake. 

When Ashton’s squashed in a tour bus with God knows how many other six-foot-something men in their twenties, there’s nothing he wishes for more than a moment to himself. He sneaks the moments in when he can - a few minutes backstage, a few moments on the bus in the morning before anyone else has woken up, before Luke comes padding in with bleary eyes and a sleepy smile that makes Ashton’s stomach flip - but it’s never more than ten minutes, never enough time to feel the solitude. Now, though, he’s got nothing to do besides let the seclusion envelop him, listen to the silence and his tinnitus and let the ringing infiltrate his thoughts. 

It’s been so long since Ashton’s been on his own, really been on his own - usually on hotel nights, he’s so exhausted and grateful for a proper bed he falls asleep fully-dressed and wakes up disoriented - that he’s kind of forgotten what it’s like. He’s forgotten the way that his thoughts start to squirm around in his mind, all clamouring for his attention, one following the other in such rapid succession that Ashton barely has the time to process them before the next one is already gripping him by the throat and forcing him to look at it. He’s forgotten how fucking overwhelming it is, how it makes his breath catch in his throat, his stomach churn, thinking himself in spirals that he can’t think himself out of. 

The fact that Luke’s next door isn’t exactly helping matters. The hotel walls seem to be a product of a scientific experiment into creating materials that are one atom thick, so Ashton can hear every move Luke makes. He heard it when Luke padded into the bathroom for a shower, when Luke ambled over to the desk, heard the entirety of the news that Luke had on for about twenty minutes (apparently the Queen’s giving a speech tomorrow, and the EU are looking to pass a law about interest rates). He heard it when Luke got changed, heard his fucking jeans drop to the floor, heard him tossing and turning trying to get comfortable on the lumpy mattress. He can hear every creak of Luke’s bed, can almost make out Luke’s deep breathing if he really strains his ears, and it’s making it impossible not to think about him. Not that Ashton’s particularly good at ever not thinking about Luke. Luke Hemmings is definitely the majority shareholder of Ashton’s mind. 

Now, though, at three in the morning, in a shitty hotel room in God knows where, a country that isn’t home and never will be, on his own with nobody there to ground him, it feels frightening, more overwhelming than Ashton could ever put into words. He’s so in love with Luke, so fucking in love with Luke, and it puts everything on a knife’s edge. His sanity, his friendship with Luke, his career - everything’s on the line because Ashton can’t say no to those baby blues.

At half-past, when Luke rolls over in bed and makes a little noise of contentment, duvet rustling as he moves, Ashton breaks. 

“Wha’?” Michael says groggily when he picks up, sounding too sleepy to be annoyed. 

“Are you awake?” Ashton says, as quietly as possible, gnawing at his lip. 

“No,” Michael says, and then the line cuts out. Ashton hates him. 

“Are you up?” Ashton asks, when Michael picks up again, on the first ring. 

“Am now, dickhead,” Michael grunts. “‘s up?” 

“Luke.” There’s a pause, then a rustling sound and quiet footsteps, and then the sound of a door locking. 

“Ash, it’s three thirty in the fucking morning,” Michael says, and his voice echoes strangely, bouncing off the walls of what Ashton can only suppose is his en-suite, but it’s soft, understanding. He knows why Ashton’s still up, why he’s getting a call from across the hall at three-thirty in the morning. 

“Yeah,” Ashton says, hoping Michael understands yeah, that’s why I’m this fucked up. Everything feels worse at night, when Ashton doesn’t have the bright light of day to convince himself that it’s not that bad, he’s not going to fuck everything up that badly. Michael sighs, and it’s tinny and a little staticky, and Ashton’s suddenly struck with the thought that Michael’s voice is being beamed up to a satellite thousands of miles away before being sent back to Ashton, even though he’s about five strides away. It makes him feel a little sick, that level of removal between the two of them. Michael’s a few metres and yet thousands of miles away. 

“Ash,” he says gently, which is never a good sign from Michael. “You’ve got to stop torturing yourself like this.” Ashton bites at his thumbnail. 

“‘m not torturing myself,” he mumbles. 

“Oh?” Michael says, a note of scepticism in his voice. “You’re not lying in bed at three-thirty in the fucking morning thinking about how in love you are with Luke, convincing yourself you’re going to fuck everything up because of it?” Ashton hesitates. 

“Fuck you,” he says eventually, and Michael doesn’t even retort, just sighs again, heavy and sad. 

“I don’t like seeing you like this,” he says. 

“You’re not seeing me,” Ashton says, a little childishly. 

“You know what I mean.” Ashton does, and he hates it. It adds a sheen of guilt to all the other confusing emotions bubbling through him, that Michael’s got to deal with this, got to walk the tightrope of being between his two best friends. 

“Sorry,” Ashton says, a little too meekly. 

“Don’t,” Michael says sternly. “You’ve got to do something about it, Ash. You can’t spend the rest of your life stuck in perpetual limbo.” Ashton tears at a hangnail, relishing the way it stings when he rips it. 

“Do what?” Ashton says. “‘s not like I can tell him. Could fuck everything up.” He hesitates, and then adds: “Could fuck your life up.” 

“You think that matters more to me than your happiness?” Michael says, sounding genuinely incredulous, and Ashton loves him, absolutely fucking loves him, and absolutely doesn’t deserve him. 

“I love you,” he tells Michael, who snorts, the sound echoing strangely in the bathroom. 

“You’d better,” he says, but it’s fond. “C’mon, Ash, you’ve got to talk to him at some point. What the fuck else are you going to do? Sit around and wait for Luke to get married and have two-point-five kids?” Ashton blinks up at the ceiling, stomach churning at the thought of Luke with a faceless spouse and a white picket fence. 

“Maybe,” he says, counting the stains on the white paint to give him something else to think about. “Doesn’t sound like the worst plan in the world.” 

“No, Ash, it does,” Michael’s tinny voice tells him. “Christ. You’re such a fucking emotional masochist.” Ashton sighs, and casts his gaze down to the hem of his shirt, picking at a loose thread.

“What the fuck would I even say?” he says. It’s not like he’s never envisioned it; a grand declaration of love - always returned by Luke, of course - but in his fantasies, it’s a certainty that Luke’s going to feel the same way, so there’s none of that gut-wrenching, stomach-rolling uncertainty, no bile rising in his throat, no clammy hands and dry mouth. 

“The truth?” Michael suggests. Ashton rolls his eyes. 

“Mike, I can’t just waltz up to Luke and tell him I’m in love with him,” he says.

“Worked for me,” Michael says, and Ashton can almost hear him shrugging. 

“That’s different,” Ashton says, because it is. Michael’s not a massive fucking overthinker. 

“Is it?” Michael says, a little shrewdly. “I didn’t know if Calum felt the same way. But what else was I gonna do, wait around the rest of my life wasting my time on him? I needed closure either way. Would’ve spent the rest of my life making myself miserable living off hope otherwise.” Ashton knows he’s right, knows from the way his stomach sinks and his heart speeds up, but hates it, wants to rationalise why he doesn’t need to tell Luke, why he shouldn’t. “You’re overthinking it,” Michael says into the silence, like he knows exactly what’s going through Ashton’s mind right now, and Ashton scowls. 

“Right, fuck me for overthinking something that could end my career,” he hisses, gripping the phone tighter than necessary because his hands are a little cold and clammy now at the thought of having to actually stand in front of Luke and say the words I’m in love with you. 

“You’re such a fucking drama queen,” Michael says, tutting. 

“Are you insane?” Ashton demands, incensed, and this is good, this is safe. He can redirect all the discomfort and anxiety into righteous anger; he can handle that. That’s well-worn territory with him and Michael. 

“I’m not doing this, Ash,” Michael says sensibly, because he knows Ashton far too well for Ashton’s liking. “You can’t keep running from your feelings the minute they get too heavy for you to bear. ‘S never gonna get any better if you’re not letting yourself process it. It doesn’t go away on its own.” 

“I know,” Ashton says hopelessly, because he does, and it’s what he’s been trying to run from. He knows he can’t live in this limbo forever, but he can’t bring himself to take a step in either direction. “Fuck, Michael. I don’t know if I can do it.” 

“You can,” Michael says, gentle, encouraging. 

“It’d fuck everything up,” Ashton says. 

“It won’t,” Michael says. “You’re both mature adults.” He pauses, and Ashton knows they’re thinking the same thing, and then he adds: “Okay, well. You’re a mature adult. I’ll drag Luke into maturity kicking and screaming.” Ashton can’t help but huff out a laugh at that, chest warming as he hears the meaning behind what Michael’s saying - I’ll fight your corner. I’ve got your back. 

“What if he doesn’t feel the same?” Ashton says, biting his lip. 

“Then at least you know,” Michael says. “And you can start moving on.” Ashton swallows, ignoring the pain of the lump in his throat. 

“I don’t want to,” he says, and it comes out a little strangled. 

“I know,” Michael says. Ashton waits for something else, for him to justify it, but there’s just staticky silence from Michael’s end of the line. 

“That’s it?” 

“What, you want a deep, motivational speech as to why you should tell him?” Michael says. “I’m not going to give you that, Ash. Do it or don’t, it’s up to you. But you’ll never be able to rest, never have your mind to yourself, until you do it.” Ashton exhales shakily. 

“Yeah,” he says, and his voice cracks, because God, it’s fucking terrifying, thinking that he might have to face Luke and say the words I’m in love with you in order to get his own sanity back. “You’re right.” 

“I know,” Michael says, and Ashton huffs out a laugh to cover the flutters of panic in his chest. “Can I go back to sleep now?” Ashton blinks, and nods. 

“Yeah,” he says again, voice a little steadier this time. “Sorry.” 

“‘S okay,” Michael says through a yawn, and Ashton has to stifle a yawn of his own. Christ, he’s actually fucking drained. Overthinking should qualify as a sport. “Love you. Not as much as I love Calum, though.” 

“Arsehole,” Ashton says, rolling his eyes, but he’s smiling. “Love you too. But not as much as I love Luke.” 

“I’d fucking hope not,” Michael says. “Don’t want you to be fantasising about fucking me.” Ashton wrinkles his nose. 

“I don’t want to fantasise about that either,” he says. 

“So don’t.” 

“I won’t.” 

“Good,” Michael says, stifling a yawn. “Don’t fantasise about Calum, either.” 

“Why the fuck would I fantasise about Calum?” Ashton wants to know. 

“Hey,” Michael says, sounding a little affronted. “What the fuck are you trying to say?” 

“I’m saying neither you nor Calum are exactly at the top of my fantasy list when Luke’s right there,” Ashton says. 

“That’s fucking rude,” Michael tells him. 

“What the fuck? You just told me-” 

"Yeah, but on principle you should want to fantasise about us,” Michael interrupts. “You just aren’t allowed.” Ashton rolls his eyes. 

“I’m not fantasising about anyone except Luke,” he says. 

“I don’t want to know that.” Jesus Christ. Michael’s fucking impossible. 

“Go to fucking sleep,” Ashton says, because arguing with Michael is a waste of time on the best of days, let alone at four in the fucking morning. 

“I’ve been trying,” Michael says, and there’s rustling sounds as he gets to his feet. “Night, Ashton. Love you.”

“Night,” Ashton says, but Michael’s already hung up. 

He plugs his phone in and rolls back over in bed, the emotional exhaustion starting to kick in, and he closes his eyes, ready to fall asleep, when from Luke’s room he hears a very, very clear-

“Night, Ash.” 

Fuck. 

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