#he could have been so zen but he fucked up his business. so its back to being evil.

[tsukimishin]

im not "performing character assassination" if its true! ill take "characters who are just that morally bankrupt" for 1000, alex

[beanghostprincess]

Shuggy headcanons as per request Madame: Love me some „Shanks being in love with Buggy’s long hair“, but I raise you „Buggy absolutely adores Shanks hair and can’t keep his hands out of it“. Granted, Shanks doesn’t really take care of his hair. Shanks is a bit of a greaseball at times. Suits Buggy well actually. When they were teens that gave him a perfect reason to just be „Eugh! When was the last time you washed this?“ While grabbing a fist full „OW! My hairs fine! I washed it last week!“ „LAST WEEK? GOD YOURE GROSS!“ and nag him about it till he cleaned up. He could always pretend the detached hands that raked trough Shanks hair after this where just there to make sure his idiot best friend did a good enough job. Actually he needs to check up on this every so often because clearly Shanks can’t be trusted to look after his own head and Buggy would be DAMNED if this ginger brought lice into their bunk HOLD STILL. The rituals…Elaborate but stupid as hell.

Shanks doesn’t mind as much as he pretends, as long as Buggy isn’t pulling his head this way and that by its roots, and enjoys the little bit of extra attention when Buggys fingers scratch over his scalp. On quieter days when they are hanging out together Buggy will actually relax enough to play with his hair without the guise of checking for dandruff for once and just absentmindedly chop a hand of to run his fingers trough while he is reading or even just bitching about something unrelated. Shanks just turns to mush every time this happens. Complete zen mode achieved.

In a world where they get together as adults again those moments become a bit more regular, usually when they are in bed together and they are both still in the process of waking up. „Feels nice…You got a real thing for my hair huh?“ Buggy shoots him an unimpressed look and Shanks can’t help but roll his eyes fondly as he answers: „I’m just checking something. I think it’s thinning out. If you keep going at this rate you’re gonna go bald.“.

As I said, the rituals : intricate but stupid as FUCK

So cute and sweet and also a bit angsty because just add the PINING to it,,, They make me go wild. Like, it's noticeable how I've been talking more about Shuggy lately and things like this make me go fucking insane. They were so in love. Gonna jump off a bridge. Anyway!

This is so real. Because Buggy would always complain about Shanks not washing his hair properly (even if one day he does have an immaculate, perfect hair) only to have the excuse to touch it or just be closer to Shanks without actually looking like a needy, pining idiot (does he even realize he's in love with Shanks? He will never admit it). And, y'know, I think Shanks genuinely ends up trying to take care of his hair (more or less. He just doesn't care much and forgets about doing it. Like yeah! Gonna be clean from now on! And then a week passes and he hasn't showered because he's been too busy with adventure to worry about it, or something) because he kind of likes the praise that comes with it afterward. Buggy saying something nice to him doesn't happen often, and he cherishes it forever. But it doesn't happen a lot bc he always ends up forgetting to wash his hair.

I'm a sucker for Shuggy being each other's first kisses, and if it happens while Buggy is playing with Shanks hair,, I might die. They're just too much.

Also, when they're older Shanks still doesn't take care of his hair and Buggy literally drags him to the shower with him. Shanks won't stop making sexual jokes about showering together and Buggy literally and genuinely just wants to clean Shanks as if he were a damn stray dog he just found (kind of the same thing tbh). Then Buggy makes him go back to bed with him and cuddle because he just needs a moment of romantic bliss before fighting his husband again.

[ladyreapermc]

Fic: Stress Relief (Donaka x fem!reader)

Summary: Donaka is stressed and it’s your job to help him relax.

Pairing: Donaka x Fem!Reader

Author’s notes: is this me posting filth again? Why, yes, it is! Enjoy because I have no idea how long this will last. LOL

Wordcount: 2688

Warnings: smut (oral m!receiving; fingering). Powerplay; degradation kink; edging, overstimulation; choking. 

Most of your days you spent doing whatever you wanted because you had no worries, not financially or of any type. You were free to hang out with friends, travel, party, and do whatever you wanted.

There were only two rules: you needed to be available to him whenever he called, be it in person or through the camera. And you were exclusively his. No one was allowed to touch you unless he said so. Those two rules were easy enough to follow when it meant having everything you ever dreamt of and more.

That day, you had been in your apartment reading when the message came in, making the smartwatch around your wrist vibrate:

Zen space. Lilac. NOW.

You had no idea what had happened and you preferred to remain blissfully ignorant of Donaka’s business, but you recognize that tone, even through text. He was stressed and furious and it was your job to help him relax.

Wasting no time, you set your book aside and headed to your bedroom, considering for a second if you should take a quick shower first, make sure your skin was silky soft and scented just like he preferred, but decided against it. Making Donaka wait was never an option so you just changed into the requested lingerie.

It was a pale lavender babydoll, with a lace front that revealed almost every inch of your body and tiny panties that barely covered your sex. You also put on the diamond choker he had gifted you even though he hadn’t explicitly asked for it, before taking the private lift that took you straight to his loft on the floor above.

The elevator opened in his home office and you noticed the room was dimly lit, the wall of screens was on standby offering a soft blue glow. The black leather couch was empty as you expected so you turned your attention to the left corner of the room, his Zen space, where he went to meditate or cool off.

Donaka was sitting on the glass bench, back turned to the rest of the room and facing the wall of concentric circles, his bare feet resting on the platform that separated the smooth and polished dark floor from the finely grated white sand. His hands rested on his spread knees and there was a slight hunch on his shoulders, the weight of his stress.

By his feet, in front of him, laid a thin pillow to protect your skin from the unforgiving sand and you were glad for it. You would, of course, kneel on it and endure the grains digging into your skin if that was what Donaka wanted but he didn’t get off on pain. Not yours at least.

You moved towards him in silence, resisting the urge to brush your fingers over his broad shoulders and back, before kneeling in front of him, sitting on your heels and looking up at the man that gave you everything and owned your heart.

His eyes pinned you in place and made your breath hitch. Cold fury clouded the brown orbs and his lips were pressed together tightly, jaw clenched tight. The sight made your body shudder with want and you pressed your thighs together.

There was something so arousing about seeing Donaka this enraged. Seeing the violence in his eyes and knowing that it would take him barely any effort to snap you in half or choke the life out of you. The knowledge that he was the kind of man that killed without even blinking but for some reason, he chose never to harm you. Most of the time, Donaka chose tender caresses and measured touches designed to bring you the kind of ecstasy that you had never experienced before.

Today his fingers trailed against your cheek in a featherlike touch, his thumb brushing over your lips, and at the faintest pressure, you parted them, letting the thick digit enter your mouth. You swirled your tongue around it before sucking greedily just as you wanted to do to another part of his body.

You watched his eyes darkening as you hollowed your cheeks and pulled more of his thumb into your mouth and moaned under your breath at the knot building between your legs, making your core pulse and dampening your panties.

Donaka’s other hand reached for the button and zipper of his trousers, releasing his half-hard cock from its confinements. He pulled his thumb free from your mouth, palm cradling your nape before he nudged your forward.

You licked your lips and inched closer, mouth salivating at the treat in front of you. You want his long, thick cock in your mouth. You wanted to feel it fully hardening between your lips, under your talented tongue. You needed to taste his bitter precum, a flavor you were slowly becoming addicted to… but all that could only happen after Donaka’s permission.

Sometimes it would come almost immediately. He would push you down his hard shaft, making you gag on it, fucking your mouth with abandon and using you like you were worth little more than your holes. In those days, he would come all over your face, zip himself up, and leave you to take care of yourself.

However, on days like today, when he was tense and furious with whatever had bothered him at work, he preferred to drag it out. To make you work for it, sometimes even beg to have his cock in your mouth. When he finally allowed it, Donaka would fuck your mouth oh so slowly, pushing deeper and deeper, until tears started to spring in your eyes, spit ran down your chin and your juices soaked your panties in such a way that all you and he could smell was the scent of your desperate arousal.

“What do you want?” He asked and his low and throaty voice sent shivers down your spine.

“Your cock, sir.” You whispered, peering at him from under your lashes. “Will you fuck my mouth, please? Make me choke on it?”

There was a barely-there twist in the corners of his mouth and your heart leaped in your chest. How you loved to make him feel good. It was like a drug.

“Such a good girl,” Donaka said, his thumb caressing your jaw. “My little cockslut.”

“Yes, sir,” you all but whimpered, pressing your thighs together once again because your cunt throbbed and you had never in your life thought you would get this turned on by being used like this, but by God, his words made you shudder with desire, body hot and ready for anything that Donaka was willing to give you.

With his hand still on your nape, controlling your pace, he nudged you forward once more, holding his cock with his free hand and letting the tip rub against your wanting lips. Donaka wasn’t one for much noise, but there was a slight hitch on his breath that told you he was enjoying the soft, almost ghost-like touch on the sensitive and swollen head of his member.

Your lips parted a little, letting your tongue brush against the velvety head and Donaka sucked in a deep breath, especially when the tip of your tongue probed against his slit, bringing forth a pearly white drop of his precum and making him harden fully.

God, your cunt ached in need to be filled but you knew you couldn’t touch yourself. Not until he allowed and that wouldn’t happen anytime soon. Not until he had his release and part of you wanted to just suck him fully into your mouth, end this torturous teasing. Even if it meant a serious punishment later (or maybe especially because it would lead to a punishment).

However, the bittersweet pleasure of the edging and denial was like a drug too, making your orgasm be nearly blinding so you hanged on, gathering every little bit of patience you could find so you could continue to just lick the tip like a lollipop that you wanted to last forever.

After a few more moments of that painfully slow game, Donaka’s grip on your nape tightened, his blunt nails digging lightly against your skin, and you knew he was ready for more. You met his dark gaze, eyes hooded with pleasure lips parted in a soft pant as he watched you and he didn’t even need to tell you what to do.

“Sir, may I suck you now, please?” you pouted and kissed the head of cock for good measure, batting your lashes like a needy child and Donaka smirked.

“Yes, angel, you may.”

You didn’t need to be told twice and engulfed the thick and hard shaft into your mouth, whimpering at the burst of flavor on your tongue as he let out a small grunt of pleasure, his shoulders finally relaxing as he tilted his head back and just enjoyed your work.

You pushed him deeper into your mouth until your nose was almost pressing against the thick dark curls surrounding his member. The open fly of his dress pants scratching your chin as you hollowed your cheeks and hummed. Donaka cursed low and grunted, his hips raising lightly, driving even deeper, and you gagged, tears burning your eyes. Your clit was almost painfully swollen and each rub of the lace of your panties was torture. You needed just a little bit of…

“Take your hand off that cunt, angel.”

You had no idea how he knew. His head was still tilted back, eyes nearly closed but you didn’t dare to disobey a direct command. With a pitiful whimper and one last flick on your needy clit, you pulled your hand away, crossing them behind your back and Donaka’s smirked.

“That’s better.” He looked back at you, tugging you away until his cock slipped from your lips with a pop, and you gulped a breath. “No one ever taught you that you shouldn’t touch what doesn’t belong to you without permission?”

You said nothing because you didn’t have an answer to that.

“And to whom that little pussy belongs, angel?”

“You, sir.” Your voice was small and raspy from the abuse on your throat.

“Exactly.”

He petted your cheek once, before pushing you back toward his cock, and dutifully, you took him into your mouth again, letting your jaw slack so his shaft could slip in and out as he guided you to bob your head at a faster pace. His cock pulsed against your lips, and you could tell he was close. Soon enough, Donaka’s hot cum would be coating your tongue and you couldn’t wait. You were desperate for it.

Before him, you had never allowed a guy to cum in your mouth. Then again, before Donaka, the was plenty you didn’t let men do to you. He changed your life, and you knew you would never be able to go back.

His grip on you tightened again as he pulled you closer until your nose was buried against his pubes and you forced yourself to relax as best as you could as he let out a final grunt and pumped his cum down your throat.

The hot and sticky ribbons making you gag again and tears run down your cheeks as you blubbered and squeezed your wrists to hold them still. Only when he was completely spent, Donaka let you pull back, his cock slipping from your mouth, glistening with your spit and his cum as you coughed and gasped for much-needed air.

He only allowed you a moment, before he was forcing to sit on his thigh, your trembling legs spread as he pushed your panties aside and glided his long fingers over your soaked hairs and sensitive lips.

“My dirty little cockslut is this wet from sucking me,” he mocked with a biting tone, and you whimpered. “Do you want to cum, angel?”

“Yes, please, sir.”

His fingers rubbed over your clit, making you gasp and whine, the pleasure overwhelming to the point of hurting but you still thrust your hips up, seeking more.

“Please…” you were almost crying now, desperate for it. Exactly like Donaka like it. “Please, please, please. Oh God, please…”

Thick and fat tears ran down your cheeks and the same hand that had been around your nape, came to your throat, surrounding the choker and forcing you to tilt your face enough so he could lick away your tears and his two fingers finally entered you.

Your cries were high-pitched and needy as Donaka fingered you hard and fast, the heel of his large palm slapping your clit as he curled his digits and the hand on your throat tightened in just the right way.

Your climax hit you like a storm, lighting up every single one of your nerve-ends. Your vision darkened, your body tensed, your back arched and a wild moan tore from your throat as your cunt pulsed and throbbed and you squirted all over his hand and knee.

For a while you were nothing more than a conglomerate of nerves busting with pleasure that seemed to last forever as Donaka continued to thrust his fingers, pressing the rugged wall of your cunt and rubbing your clit, dragging out your bliss until another lightning struck and you came again in what it felt like was just seconds later, but you knew it had to be longer. Time seemed to shorten and stretch at once as you rode his hand, gasping, wheezing, and crying?

You couldn’t tell if that pitiful sound was really coming from your mouth, not when your body was electrified like that, your muscles spasming and feeling like jelly and you had to reach behind yourself for Donaka’s shoulders to hold yourself because surely you would slide to the ground if you didn’t.

And just as the blinding light of your pleasure was starting to dimmish and you thought you would be able to see and feel and talk and breath again, his hand restarted his motions and you cried because it was almost painful now. That sweet, incessant ache that made you seek it, and you could faintly hear sobs and pleas of stop and no more. You couldn’t take another.

“Safeword?” Donaka’s voice sounded clear in your ear, and it was on the tip of your tongue. You knew if it crossed your lips, he would stop, but your vocal cords refused to utter it. “Safeword, angel.”

You pressed your lips together tightly, like a kid with a secret, and shook your head. His lips drew into a pleased smile against your cheek.

“That’s my girl.”

His kiss on your jaw was almost soft and loving before his fingers restarted their dance inside you. Even faster than before and your hips were rocking against it, actively seeking out your third orgasm despite the aching of your abused clit.

Once again, as the climax overtook you, your body went rigid and seized, your vision whited-out and for several blissful moments, that intense pleasure made time fall away, leaving only the most perfect peace and comfort, like slipping into a hot bath after a long day, letting the scented water wash away any hint of tension in your body before you laid in your bed, the duvet and pillows soft like a lover’s caress, welcoming you to an exhausted, dreamless sleep.

When you finally opened your eyes again, after what it felt like just a couple of seconds, you were in your bed, cleaned and tucked tight, the only evidence of your previous activities was the sweet ache between your legs whenever you moved and a deep, sad sigh escaped your lips.

It was always like this: Donaka fucked your brains out, then he would take care of you, clean you up and tuck you in and no matter how much your blissed-out self, begged for it – and you knew you always did – he would never stay. But this was the deal you made. You took whatever he gave you. You didn’t complain and you didn’t demand more.

You couldn’t. Too afraid of losing what little you already had.

xxx

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[amaranthinedream]

#oet on notifs for me on twt as well as ao3 this fic is becoming my life pls update us on progress if u can! like do u have any random tidbits u wanna share i am begging like the pitiful wretch that i am. i will take scraps

You're the third person who's asked for a little progress update soooo voila! Have some scraps my darling!

A little snippet from chapter 34 of Our Entangled Lines

Izuku’s heat had ended, and he was exhausted and cold, but the first crack as the shell split apart woke him up faster than any stimulant. 

Legs buckling, Izuku shoved himself out of Katsuki’s arms and dragged himself back to the bed where he had last left the egg, not knowing what the fuck to do. Little tapping noises could be heard from within, only a little oval of the shell so far missing. But inside, he could see movement behind a protective membrane. 

It was really happening. His egg was hatching. 

“Kacchan!” he said, panicking. Katsuki was already next to him, a hand on his shoulder, far calmer than Izuku. “What do I do?”

“It’s alright, just give it time.”

‘Just give it time’, what kind of shitty advice was that? His baby was hatching. What if it suffocated in there or something? 

“Can’t I do anything? I can help it out of the shell.”

His hands reached forward to just that but Katsuki held him back before he could touch, grappling him into immobility when Izuku refused to let that stop him. It was embarrassingly easy with how weak Izuku was. “Dammit, nerd! You can’t do anything, you’ve gotta let it emerge on its own, it’s just part of the process.”

“Bullshit, it wants out and I can help.” 

Izuku made a play for his dragon again but Katsuki grappled – if the very gentle and careful way Katsuki pinned his weak limbs could be defined as such – him down before he could with an exasperated sigh.

“Listen, it takes ages for dragons to hatch and it’s always a public event if they’ve been entrusted to someone. So here’s what we’re going to do: I’m going to call your maid to summon the necessary witnesses. Your atrium should be big enough if we use the gallery, so we'll take it to the bottom of the stairs until it hatches, hand it off to the dragon-keepers, and then kick everyone else out and go back to bed, sounds good?

Izuku's gut sank. "I have to give them away?"

"What? Yeah of course, we’ll try and get it’s parents to take it back in, or it'll go to a surrogate dragon parent, as planned."

"Right, of course." Izuku was too tired to hide the way his voice dulled.

Katsuki didn’t seem to notice, too busy holding him back and planning their next steps. "For now, we're going to take a bath, get ready so that we appear somewhat functional when everyone arrives, and then maybe – just maybe – chill out a little bit, ‘kay?”

Izuku rolled his eyes. “I am perfectly chill, thank you very much.”

“... Sure. Right. Yes, I totally believe you.”

“I don’t like your tone. You’re doubting me, but I am completely genuine. I’m calm.”

“I’m not doubting it.”

“I am zen. I am acting so reasonable right now.”

“You are! It's nice that you've stopped trying to scratch me and everything.”

"You're welcome. I'm happy that we're in agreement that I am totally, one-hundred percent, calm."

In the end, it took Katsuki five minutes to wrestle Izuku away from the egg.

[foreficfandom]

Mystic Messenger - First Time With MC (Lemon)

(Author’s notes: These scenarios do NOT assume a gender for MC, but do write the boys penetrating the reader.)

– Zen –

This isn’t his first rodeo, but he’s not exactly experienced; he’s had, like, one-and-a-half relationships before you. It’s been years since he’s had partnered sex.

And he’s never had sex-ed, either, so his knowledge of the Nasty is kinda lacking. He thinks he can re-use condoms as long as he keeps it on, he believes coconut oil can be used with latex, he thinks birth control pills act as a spermicide, and so on.

You and him initiate sex pretty early on in the relationship, perhaps merely a few days after the RFA party. He’s very romantic about it, too, planning a whole day in advance with rose petals on the bed and scented candles dotting his room. But in the middle of making out, you ask if he’s clean, and he pulls back, confused. “... I think? I mean, I haven’t been with anybody in years, so ...”

Turns out he’s never been tested for STDs. He’s almost offended when you bring it up, like you’re insinuating he’s been cheating on you. You have to explain that getting tested is just what everyone does before having sex with someone for the first time. 

So ... he’s not tested. “Can we ... still do it?” He’s blushing like crazy now, embarrassed he’s so behind on the know-how when he’s the one who wanted this in the first place. 

Partnered sex can still be relatively safe even when an individual’s not been tested, so long as you use lots of protection. But depending on who you are, you might say no, just to be 100% safe. Either way, Zen’s disappointed - not in you, no way, but in himself. God, he’s been looking forward to this night for so long, and he fucked it up by being stupid. He stews in his thoughts silently for a while, and you can tell he’s feeling down so you cuddle him close to have a good long chat about sex, relationships, and communication. Afterwards, he feels much less insecure. The two of you take the rose petals and candles to the bathroom to enjoy your first romantic bath together, instead.

Two days later, he bounces back from the clinic with a negative on every test imaginable. It’s finally time to dig in, and go ham he does, passionately wrapping you into his arms while thrusting deep and slow, trying to have as much skin contact at all times. Oh, god, he loves you, and he’ll spend the whole night proving it.

(Except he definitely couldn’t last the whole night. Your first time having sex was a mere two turns before he clonked out. He’s still embarrassed about that.)

– Yoosung –

It’s his first time having sex, and he’s really nervous. He wants it, wants you badly, but oh my god what if he messes up? What if he farts? Or scratches you in the face? Or he thrusts weird and hurts you and you start bleeding or something?? Dear lord help him

He considers proposing sex like, eight different times. He’s always chickened out, just kissing you on the doorstep before saying goodbye, or letting you leave his dorm without offering to stay the night. It doesn’t help that his dorm is tiny, he’s got a twin bed barely big enough for him. And anybody passing by the door would hear what’s going on inside clear as day. Take his word on that.

He had spent several hours worth on his laptop, doing research on ‘how to have sex for the first time’. He’s got his list of positions to try, how to minimize pain and discomfort, etc, all memorized.. He eventually goes out to get condoms and lube, making sure to use the self-checkout. 

You and him are hanging out in his dorm after a date, and he wasn’t even planning to suck it up and ask you, but you saw the condoms in the shopping bag he forgot to stow away, and you asked him gently, “do you want to be intimate with me, Yoosung?”

He blushes like crazy, you could swear you saw steam lines radiating from his face. But you take his hand in encouragement and he nods eagerly, looking anywhere else but your eyes. “I - I really want this, MC. I’ve been thinking about this for so long ...”

You can tell he’s nervous. The two of you sit on his bed and talk explicitly about what he wants, how you should proceed, what lines to avoid, and lots of other important details. A safeword is confirmed; ‘server maintenance’. He feels much more confident. 

The two of you begin by just kissing on his bed, he slowly dares to feel up your shirt and eventually the clothes come off bit by bit. His body is lean and soft, and he’s loud, too. Just nipping at his pillowy tummy makes him cry out. 

You give him oral, and he’s twisting around, grabbing at pillows and sheets like he’s tumbling down a cliff. He comes without warning and collapses, wrung out and overwhelmed with pleasure. 

Some cuddling afterwards, and then he’s hard again and kissing at your neck. He asks you to ride him, and when you do, he’s sobbing without shame and grabbing hard at your hips.

Some time afterwards, when you and Yoosung are trying to cuddle on his bed without either of you toppling off, he remembers just how loud he’s been and dreads facing anybody in the building tomorrow. You just laugh and tuck him into the bedsheets.

– Jaehee –

She shyly shows off a beautiful new set of lingerie as her way of asking to ‘take the relationship to the next level’. And she’s a real bombshell in it. It’s sometimes easy to forget that Jaehee’s got a bod underneath her suit/cafe uniform.

Unlike certain younger boys, Jaehee didn’t feel the need to agonize over this night over a period of several months. This is a natural progression for her. Once things feel ready between the two of you, it’s natural that the question eventually comes up.

She first shows you her new lingerie in its original packaging, and waits to hear your ‘yes’. Then, it’s time to hop into the bathtub for a long soak and thorough wash before putting it on.

She also gets new toys. Entire shopping bags and shipping boxes filled with insertables, vibrators, pumps, impacts, (and also the supplies needed to maintain them). She didn’t come out and show you these all at once, she’d probably die of embarrassment if she did. But she had them all unwrapped, clean, tested, and ready to use in a discreet box.

You and she actually end up making out on the couch rather than the bedroom. She’s sitting in your lap dressed in her lingerie, you’re fully clothed, and things get so heated the two of you decide to go at it right there.

She’s surprisingly wild. She keeps as much of her lingerie on as possible, even while you’re knuckle deep or pelvis-to-pelvis. The floor is eventually lined with toys as one is used after the other. And she loves taking the initiative with a gentle but firm hand, directing the positions one after the other, or deciding what toy to be used where, and for how long.

A round on the couch, and Jaehee cools down long enough to freak out about staining the upholstery, so she ushers you into the bedroom while she busts out the Lysol. 

After she cleans up, she joins you on the bed for some belated cuddling, and perhaps a second round. Or three.

And it’s actually in the middle of the day, not during the night, so the two of you are completely worn out by dinnertime. Food is takeout, and there’s a lot of it because you need to replenish all that energy.  

Jaehee doesn’t get blushy until you feed her a bite of dessert. It’s cute how confident she is when it comes to sex, but shy about small acts of intimacy. 

– Jumin –

He’s not a virgin, (not that it’s any of your business, Luciel), he had sex with a random girl back in college just to see what the fuss was about, and nothing else since then.

Jumin’s a conservative guy. “Liberalism can only flourish with a good foundation of conservatism.” He believes unmarried couples shouldn’t live together. Of course he’s not gonna be fond of having sex before tying the knot.

It’s not like he rushed the engagement for that reason, but if he was perfectly honest, he did wake up in a cold sweat at 3am when he remembered that this meant the two of you would be intimate very soon. 

Jumin’s got that reputation for being some d/s sex-mad sadist daddy, but that’s not the full picture. You might be able to get him into that specific mood after the two of you establish your relationship more. But for the first few times, it’s all vanilla.

It takes a long while before the wedding actually happens. And, no, Jumin’s not gonna really want to have sex for that entire period. Sure, he’s excited about it, but it’s not a driving, burning need. You, on the other hand, might say differently. 

So if you don’t want to wait four to five months, you’re gonna have to breach the topic yourself. And he’ll be torn - on one hand, he rationally realizes that it’s completely harmless to have consensual sex without martial ties. But he also believes in that supposed virtue of being abstinent until marriage. He also liked the romance of waiting. It’d make the moment more special for him.

Either way, he’s excited. The bed’s furnished with fresh sheets, the lights are dimmed, and there’s five dozen roses in crystal vases throughout the bedroom. 

It’ll start with wine while sitting on the bed - if you don’t drink, you have a glass of something you prefer while he’s sipping on some $12,000 vintage - and he drills a hole in your face with his loving gaze while singing your virtues. He wants you naked before he is, so after some kissing you’ll be nude on the sheets while he finally takes his clothes off.

Jumin has no idea what sex is ‘supposed’ to look like, which is both good and bad - you can tell him to do anything, and he’s not gonna worry about feeling awkward or stupid. But he also needs to be told to do anything. 

If you want him to go faster, or use more tongue, you have to tell him. He’s not gonna take the initiative. If you want him to switch positions, you need to describe exactly how you want to position yourselves. It’s a mixed blessing.

The first round goes quite a while because Jumin was taking it slow. There’s a second round where he gets more adventurous, and maybe a third round depending on how you feel. 

The next morning, the chef’s been hired to prepare a special breakfast, and you can tell that they know. Jumin doesn’t care. He just smiles all day.

– Saeyoung –

He actually was a virgin, which was kinda a surprise. His agent job never require any sort of sex-related work, thank god, and it’s not like he ever earned the attention of anybody else before this point. 

If an agency job had enough time to have sex while in the field, then that meant the job was going down the dumps fast. And whenever Agent 707 was involved, a job never nosedived that far.

It’s (semi) canon that Saeyoung asked to be intimate during the after-ending, while on the search for his brother. It was the night before all your plans would come to fruition, and he didn’t know he would come back alive. “I want to leave evidence on you that I existed.”

But it’s ALSO canon that in Saeyoung’s ‘dark chocolate’ Valentine’s Day ending, he asks to ‘take the relationship to the next level’. Which implies that the two of you haven’t had sex yet. 

So what’s the dealio? Basically, Saeyoung wanted to have sex with you that night in the cabin, and after some kissing, you realized that you (1) didn’t have protection, (2) neither of you have been tested recently, and (3) your current emotional states weren’t ideal for sex, especially since Saeyoung was a virgin. He left a lot of hickies on your neck instead, and the two of you held each other close the whole night. 

By the time Valentine’s Day rolled around, it had been two months since Saeran was rescued and Saeyoung was feeling a lot happier. You made it to the end of the scavenger hunt to find an amorous redhead that was ~prepared~ this time. An entire shopping bag full of prophylactics, lube, band-aids, water bottles, and everything. 

He managed to fake a confident persona up until he undressed you fully, then he found himself blushing like crazy when you undressed him in turn. Damn, he really was hiding muscles underneath that hoodie. His arms were woven cable, and underneath his pudge you could feel shapely abs. 

He asked to be on top, you complied, rolling over and allowing him to explore your body with his hands and mouth. It took three tries to enter you, because without his glasses, you were a bit of a blurry blob. But once he was in, he went at it. Maybe even a bit too enthusiastic for the first few thrusts, he was just running on some animalistic instinct he didn’t know he had. 

Two minutes later, he was blindsided by a surprise orgasm. Embarrassed, he rolled off of you and buried his face into the sheets. You had to stroke his hair soothingly for ten minutes before he would look you in the face. 

Saeyoung’s first evening of sex had one ‘disastrous’ first try, then a much better second run, and then after dinner there was a third ... and also .5 a prance while in the shower.  

– Saeran –

You’re his first sexual partner, but more than that, today also marks a big step in his self-confidence. He’s cashing in his newfound tolerance for his body and constitution. Saeran spent most of his life hating his ‘weak’ health and thinking anybody’d be repulsed by him. He wouldn’t have sex if he didn’t believe differently. 

So it’s probably several months - perhaps years - into your relationship that he even brings up having sex. Even though he may be ready, he’s still nervous and shy and unsure about how to proceed. 

Before the big night, he spends several minutes in front of the mirror, looking at his body. He’s gained weight and a new color to his skin thanks to his healthier lifestyle, and there’s this confidence to his posture that wasn’t there before. A sparkle in his eye. It’s incredible how far he’s come from hating every inch of himself. He smiles.

He prepares one of his Patented Saeran’s Romantic Dinners, complete with candlelight and ambient music. The two of you have done this several times before, but this time there’s an electricity in the air ‘cause of what’s to come. You notice that the food has no garlic, or other strong smells. Saeran’s more cunning than he looks. 

As dessert finishes up, he gets more quiet, until the conversation dies down and there’s nothing for it; he takes a deep breath and says, “....Sh-shall we go to bed?” Like this hasn’t been planned weeks in advance. The two of you walk hand-in-hand to the bedroom, where there’s even more candles and another stereo playing soft music, and you picture Saeran putting together a ‘having sex for the first time’ playlist.

You begin by kissing Saeran lying beneath you, but he stops you with a hand on your shoulder and asks to switch positions, because he doesn’t like the feeling of you hovering over him. It’s another mark of his progress that he asks for adjustments. 

Things progress slowly. Saeran feels out what makes him feel anxious, and what makes him feel good. The two of you end up side-by-side as he takes you, facing each other with your legs wrapped around his waist. Very intimate. Very sweet. He loves threading his fingers through your hair, and he mewls every time you fondle his ears. 

His health is still shaky, so he only has the stamina for one round before he needs to rest. He all but demands you inch as close as possible so he falls asleep holding you tight. When he wakes up the next morning, he’s got a 1000-watt smile. 

– Jihyun –

Out of the entire wacky cast of Mystic Messenger boys, Jihyun’s the only actual experienced one. You don’t have to tell him that a single pack of five condoms is waaayy too little, you don’t have to explain what dental dams are, or worry about him using oil-based lube on accident, and he’s the only one who actually showers thoroughly beforehand. 

It begins with your typical night of cuddling-and-kissing, then Jihyun says he’s clean and he’s got a bedside cabinet full of supplies. He gently holds your hand and asks, ‘”if you’d like …? We could … if you’re comfortable. If you’d have me.” He’s blushing, but he’s confident. 

Of course, even if you’re experienced, the first time with anybody is gonna be awkward. And Jihyun’s a surprisingly big guy to maneuver. There’s a lot of accidental elbowing, bonking of the heads, kneeling on sensitive bits, and little scrapes. His long limbs seemingly end up everywhere on the bed, and it’s like you’re playing twister. 

Mistakes just make him laugh. You trip over his outstretched forearm and face plant into his shoulder, and he just chuckles and pulls you into another kiss. 

He’s just so soft and loving. ‘Cause to Jihyun, it’s about ~making love~. He wants to go slow, looking into your eyes, cradling your head and burying his face into the crook of your neck. 

Tries to get you off first, either through oral or otherwise. He’s not a big fan of any positions that turn you away from him, it’s just too rough and aggressive. He’d rather carry you on his shoulders before he prefers doggy style. 

Checks in with you constantly, asks what you like and where you like to be touched. Tries to get you to literally guide his hands. In turn, he asks you to please, touch his legs, his thighs ... yes, kiss me there - 

For your first time, he’d rather have a one-two long sessions than multiple quick ones. He believes sex is one of the most intimate methods of non-verbal communication, and the longer you go in one sitting, the more is passed between the two of you. 

He’s never used toys in his life. If you decide to pull one out for your first time, he’s gonna blush like crazy and actually decline. He wants the first night to be 'organic’. And he’s so driven towards that romantic face-to-face lovemaking, he won’t go too hard or fast, even if you’re begging him. 

After the sex, he wraps you up in a cozy blanket before fetching some hot tea and fresh fruit. Then there’s several minutes spent reviewing how things went, what things worked well, or how they can improved. He catalogues it all for later. 

He rarely wants to fall asleep right after sex, so you might pass out peacefully, but he’s gonna stay awake, just gazing at you for a while. 

[steviesmarigold]

Stevebucky Fic Recs: Angst Fics

despite the threatening sky and shuddering earth (they remained): 71k words

“They really didn’t want the mask to come off.” Hill thumbed through the scans, and pulled out a film that she then handed over to Sam, face mostly expressionless but for the flat line of her pursed lips.

Sam accepted the film and held it up to the light, angling so both he and Steve could see it, squinting at the outline of the Winter Soldier’s skull, and the blips of unnatural white that showed up, God, in his brain, not to mention about half his teeth, plus the mask, with its thin protrusions—

“Those are pins,” Steve realized. He looked over at Hill. “The mask—it’s nailed to his face.”

Hill’s face was as unmoved as ever. “Like I said. They really didn’t want it coming off.”

Never Mine to Hold: 21k words

Steve didn't know the name of Bucky's soulmate. He wasn't even sure when it had appeared across Bucky's heart.

But Steve knew it wasn't his name hidden under that patch.

A Matter of Pride(?): 5.9k words

Tony Stark was certain he had the Winter Soldier all figured out. Guy was an arrogant asshole, through and through. But when the Soldier gets injured during a mission, the Avengers discover that everything may not be quite as it seems.

Einherjar: 71k words

But Steve was fine.

Sure, he hadn’t seen Bucky in months, and sometimes he was at the punching bag so long that his skin started to peel off to expose the bones of his fingers, and sometimes he couldn’t find the energy to drag himself out of bed, and sometimes he went weeks without sleeping, and sometimes he thought about throwing himself head-first off the nearest tall structure, but he was fine.

He was absolutely, perfectly, one-hundred percent, fucking fine.

AKA

In which Steve learns how to deal with his shit, and Bucky learns how to stop leaving.

Heroes are Easy, People are Hard: 152k words

Shuri and Wanda cleared Bucky's triggers shortly after Killmonger's attempted coup, and he and Steve went on the run. But it turns out there's more to "fixing Bucky's head" than "getting Hydra out of it." When a group of rogue scientists manage to neutralize the serum and make Steve very sick--pre-serum "this is bad" kind of sick--and they're cut off from contact with Wakanda, Bucky knows only one person with resources to help.

He calls Tony and surrenders on the condition that Tony tries to help Steve.

From there, it's basically three variously messed-up guys’ trajectories from "This Is Fine", "Reasonably Speaking I Know It’s Fine", "I Will Be Fine With It" to actually being fine, guest-starring a far-better-adjusted teenage boy who climbs walls, a 1957 Ford Thunderbird, two women with a keen sense of the absurd, and Bruce, the Zen master of “it’s fine that it’s not fine.”

Add in the fact that Bucky's been secretly in love with Steve since the thirties and things only get harder. Learning to be a person is the hardest thing Bucky Barnes will ever have to do--but he's got company along the way.

honey, you're familiar (like my mirror years ago): 9.6k words

Bucky says softly, “Were we together, before?”

A rusty knife seems to plunge into Steve’s heart. “You don’t remember?”

Bucky breaks eye contact and shakes his head, “No, m’sorry, I don’t.”

The knife twists.

Or: Bucky comes back to Steve and somehow remembers everything but their relationship. Suspicious.

Stop all the clocks: 51k words

After Infinity War, Steven Grant Rogers is given a second chance to save (a) the world and (b) his pal, his buddy, his Bucky.

Somehow, he has to go back in time and collect all the Infinity gems before Thanos can. But time travel's a dangerous business, with many pitfalls. Will Steve be up to the job? On va voir.

Folie a Deux: 55k words

When Bucky falls off the train in the Alps, Steve follows, and Russia gains two of the greatest assassins that ever lived.

Blank (But Its There): 1.2k words

In which the Winter Soldier struggles to reach the memories locked away and finds his way out with one name - Steve Rogers.

you got hell to pay but you already sold your soul: 21k words

“I, uh, I had a mate--a soulmate,” he muttered quietly, and suddenly the room fell silent. No one seemed to even take an inhale after his little confession. “It’s obviously been a long time since then. It was back before the- back then.” He felt a burning behind his fifth rib, and tried not to remember the loving feeling of fire that came with it. (He could still remember how to drown. But the burning from the ice was never quite the same.)

or the one where Steve had a soulmate and then didn't but kinda always did

Ambidextrous: 10k words

For as long as he can remember, Bucky has spent his waking moments with Steve’s handwriting on his skin. It’s just something they’ve always shared with each other. Nowadays, Bucky’s left-handedness restricts him to his own right arm, but Steve, lucky bastard, covers both of his arms with sleeves of sketches and curved script.

Ambidextrous. It’s a skill that Bucky doesn’t bother to learn, and refuses to try. Steve should have something to himself. After all, Bucky’s left arm is perfectly good. Why would he need to use the other?

had you thinking you'd never be alone: 5.1k words

Bucky doesn't remember a time when he was not friends with Steve Rogers. AU where Steve never gets the serum and they never get their happy ending.

If You're Reading This, Steve Rogers: 39k words

Nobody tells Steve it's okay to cry.

Nobody touches him.

Nobody remembers Steve Rogers is a person under the mantle. It's okay. He hasn't felt like a person since he watched Bucky fall.

Into That Good Night: 73k words

Steve Rogers has lived for entirely too long—long enough to see the world's end. The heroes are gone, and the Earth is pushing what's left of mankind towards the exit.

But when a makeshift team rises from the ashes, when a mysterious presence all but drags Steve there, he begins to think there may be hope yet. As they shoot for the stars one last time, Steve will get proof yet again that the future is nothing if not an echo of the past.

Mission Incomplete: 9.8k words

He does not understand. He completed his mission. The captain is dead. So why does it feel as though he has done something terrible, as though he has knocked the world off its axis? Why is the screaming in his head louder than ever?

-

AU where Bucky thinks he completes his mission on the riverbank and Hydra "rewards" him by giving his memories back. All of them.

Thirty-Eight Days and Counting: 40k words

It didn’t escape him that Steve shared his assumed last name. “Are you gonna be my cousin?” Bucky asked dully.

Steve frowned. “Husband, actually,” he said easily, holding up his left hand to show a typical golden band.

Bucky scowled and closed the door.

AKA

An AU in which Bucky is put in the witness protection program and Steve is the agent hired to protect him/pretend to be his husband.

in these times of dying: 41k words

Steve's Plan Following His Best Friend Abandoning Him To Return To Cryostasis

Step 1: Deny everything. Steve's fine. Bucky's fine. Tony's fine. Everybody's f##king fine, godd##n it.

Step 2: Find Hydra. Eliminate. With gross prejudice.

Step 3: Discover means to remove Bucky's trigger words.

Step 4: In the event of failure of Step 3, hit things. Don't bother cleaning up the blood.

Step 5: Ignore personal healthcare. Those fevers are nothing weird.

Step 6: Find Satan. Make deal with Devil.

Step 7: ----------

The man on the bridge: 107k words

Steve Rogers turning up at Tony's door in the middle of the night might be a bit out of character, but it's not completely out of the realm of possibility. Stranger things have happened.

Steve Rogers turning up at Tony's door with an amnesiac assassin - who may or may not have some of Tony's personally designed hardware attached where his arm should be - well that's just far too interesting to turn away, even if Tony is trying to avoid all things S.H.I.E.L.D these days.

Bulletproof Loneliness: 7.4k words

A year after the events of Infinity War, Steve is falling apart - having lost his whole world yet again. Tony, Shuri, and Bruce work desperately to reverse Thanos' actions and set the world right again.

I'm here now: 1.1k words

Steve Rogers never gets the serum. Instead, he dies in 1943, and Bucky still becomes the Winter Soldier.

Portrait of a Man in Chrome: 20k words

Dear Mr Rogers,

Right from the beginning I’d like to apologize for the suddenness of this message – your address has been given to me by a mutual acquaintance who greatly praised your work and suggested contacting you if we find it suiting our needs. Having familiarized our eyes with your art (Brooklyn Museum’s most recent temporary exhibition has been truly brilliant, please accept our congratulations on it), I believe your style and talent would be perfect to meet our desires and we’d be more than happy to discuss in detail a commission for a series of paintings. As we need someone willing to dedicate quite a lot of time to the task and work in the field (which would be our humble house), please do think over whether you’re available and willing to make the commitment, and let me know whether you’d like to know more about the proposition.

Thank you for your time,

Winifred Barnes

*

In which Steve, a rising freelance artist, is commissioned for a one-of-a-kind portrait and Bucky becomes his involuntary muse.

(Inspired by a 2019 movie, "Portrait of a Lady on Fire".)

Return to me (for my heart wants you only): 33k words *

Steve’s not sure why he walks up to the bar and orders a whiskey on the rocks from the bartender instead of walking away. When he thinks on it later, the only conclusion he can come up with is that somehow some part of him had known.

As he waits for his drink, he can feel the guy’s eyes on him, checking him out. He returns the favor, letting his gaze drift down a lean body in a perfectly tailored tux, then all the way up till their eyes meet. The guy looks young, maybe around twenty-five, but it's hard to be sure with the mask hiding part of his face.

The guy smirks at him with sinfully pink lips, but his light eyes are shadowed, making them hard to read. “You come here often?”

A Broken Soldier: 42k words

"Steve Rogers went into the ice a grieving man, tasting Bucky’s name on his lips and Peggy’s sorrow in his ears.

He emerged a blank slate."

Steve Rogers wakes up in a world full of aliens, men of iron, and a past complicated by the heroism of a man he no longer remembers being. He has no interest remembering the pain that drove him into the ice without the parachute that might have saved him. No desire to know about the best friend he lost or the woman who moved on without him.

He has more important things to consider...like killing the Winter Soldier.

Ghost of You: 2.3k words

"Dancing through our house with the ghost of you."

Based on the lyrics of Ghost of You by 5 Seconds of Summer

The Proposal: 112k words

Steve Rogers works as an executive assistant for his demon of a boss James Barnes, at Pierce Publishing. Everyone HATES working with James Barnes, the epitome of Satan himself in every way possible. But when his Visa for immigration is denied, James quickly hatches a plan and drags Steve into a plot to thwart the United States Government into thinking they are engaged to avoid deportation. Thus follows the weekend from your wildest imagination as boss and employee learn about themselves and what it means to be truly happy.

my heart is a cemetary: 45k words

The Winter Soldier escapes HYDRA’s grip 5 years before Captain America is defrosted.

between everything, yourself, and home: 24k words

“This is your home?” asks Bucky at one point.

“It’s where I’m living now, yeah.”

Bucky comes home. Steve's a little slower on the uptake.

There Are Moments That The Words Don't Reach: 1.4k words

Winnie Barnes had always known there were only two possible outcomes to this war: either both her boys came home, or neither did. There was no Bucky without Steve and no Steve without Bucky. So when that tear-stained, blotched letter came, she knew both her sons were gone.

out of sight | out of mind: 58k words

When Thanos snapped, Steve watched as the most precious thing in his world turned to dust right in front of him. Now, he and those left behind are left to deal with the consequences, and try to find a way to bring them back. Whatever it takes.

World War II hero Bucky Barnes, AKA Captain America, saved the world in 1945 when he put a plane down in the Arctic. In 2012, he was found, defrosted, and brought back to the world. Now, he leads a specialized unit called the Avengers, with Sam Wilson on his six and a couple of kids who give him heart attacks on the daily. Everything is great, except a nagging feeling that things aren’t quite what they seem, and a blond man in his dreams that he’s never met, but misses fiercely.

Homecoming: 23k words

When Nebula snapped the Gauntlet, half of the universe was restored to their homes. But not everyone has the same definition of home, and Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes must each create their own homecomings.

by the river potomac i sat down and wept: 63k words

They say everyone’s got another half out there somewhere, like all our souls are split in two.

I don’t think it’s like that. I think you’ve got mine and I’ve got yours, and I promise I’ll look after it good while I’m here just so long as you do the same for me.

or: bucky barnes atones

with hearts so mangled: 23k words

It's been ten years since the Blip and Bucky thinks he's doing pretty well for himself.

Until Steve shows up.

The Guardian: 30k words

The kingdom of New York has a tradition that says the one in line to become the next ruler must have a peerless warrior to protect him or her. For Prince James “Bucky” Barnes, the contest for his guard is about to begin, but he is still holding out hope for one man to arrive- a man everyone says is dead. The man he loves with all his heart.

Enter Nomad, a competitor who will not reveal his face to anyone. This mysterious man proves his worth in every challenge thrown at him, and manages to impress everyone watching. What's strange is that he seems to know Bucky, even though the prince could swear they have never met before.

My Stevebucky Fic Rec Collection

[amysteriousmessenger]

Hey im kinda late, but... Do you mind writing snowball fight with reader + rfa + V and saeran? If that's too much to ask, then its okay love! Oh, its kinda late but merry holiday, or christmas if you celebrate it! May your holidays be blessed and filled with only happiness and love 😽😽. Here, take all your loves you deserve!

AAAAA this is so kind of you, thank so much and a happy holidays to you too!! <3 You’re always so lovely to me! I’m sorry that I’m posting this on Boxing Day, but I hope it’s still okay for you!

RFA and Reader Snowball Fight Headcanons

Yoosung Kim Snowball Fight Headcanons 

You would have been visiting Yoosung at his university over Christmas, it has already started to heavily snow whilst you were on your way so by the time you actually got there, the snow had fallen to several inches. 

Yoosung was so excited about the snow, it reminds him of when he was young and would make snowmen in the garden with his Rika and his sister. He’d look a little crestfallen thinking about it, and you offered to build a snowman outside on campus with him. 

The two of you built the snowman together, dressing it in a scarf and sending silly pictures of the three of you to the RFA chat. It was then, as Yoosung was trying to take his own selfie with it, that you launched a snowball right into the back of his head and he caught it on camera. 

He feels so betrayed, pouting as he looked at you with big puppy eyes. 

He won’t retaliate until you laugh and begin scrambling to craft another snowball, at which point Yoosung with try to hide behind the snowman as a shield. He has to fight back, his time on LOLOL has trained him for this. 

He throws a few snowballs out from behind the snowman, and then gets hit with one in the face when he peeks around to see if any made contact with you. 

He’s laughing and having fun as you throw the snow, and it continues for a few minutes until you’ve tired yourselves out and return to his dorm for a hot shower and warm hot chocolate.

Zen/Hyun Ryu Snowball Fight Headcanons 

The two of you would be on a winter date in the park. Zen was marvelling at how the pure white snow compliments his air, and makes the red of his eyes stand out against the crisp background and how th- Bam. You hit him on the side of the head with a snowball, instantly silencing his handsome spiel. 

‘Jagiya! How could you do that to m-’ Bam, another one hitting him in the shoulder. He watched as you giggled, scrambling to gather enough snow for another attack and his heart just melted, he can’t stay mad at you. But, he also can’t lose: his ego would not allow it. 

He grabs a fistful of snow and starts chasing you through the thick snow, his trousers are getting a little wet but he doesn’t mind, you’re having fun. You turn back mid-run to throw another snowball at him, but miss. Zen takes this opportunity to throw his own snowball at you, hitting you on the ass and earning a smirk from him. 

You try to throw more, but Zen runs for fun, there’s no way that you could overtake him. You manage to get a few more snowballs thrown in his general direction but the majority of them miss and you somehow strumble and fall backwards into the snow as he got close.

Zen tried to stop himself falling, he really did, but the snow was heavy on his feet and he ended up falling on top of you, caging your body with his own.

After the initial moment of distress, he couldn’t help but think how beautiful you looked with the snowflakes falling into your hair and on your eyelashes. He leaned in and planted a kiss onto the corner of your mouth, his lips slightly cold from the weather. 

The two of you smiled, and then you scooped up a handful of loose snow and threw the dusting into his face. 

Jaehee Kang Snowball Fight Headcanons 

You were hard-pushed to get Jaehee to go out in the cold weather, she was too busy and didn’t particularly fancy getting her clothes wet. After enough pleading, she finally relented and agreed to make a snowman with you as long as it didn’t take too long. 

The two of you made a small snowman together, and gave it a small ponytail. You sent a picture of it to the RFA chat with the simple caption ‘Snowzen’.

She would be getting ready to go back inside to make coffee when you hit her in the back of her shoulder with a snowball.

After a brief moment of disbelief followed by a sigh, Jaehee would wait until you weren’t looking to quickly grab some snow and throw it at you. Obviously, she missed. 

But that still instigated a war. You grinned.

You both started gathering snow and throwing it at one another: yours in attack, Jaehee’s in defense. It wasn’t often that she got to loosen up, so you were happy to see her laughing on this rare occasion. 

Snowzen got beheaded in the fight. 

Saeyoung Choi in a snowball fight Headcanons 

Firstly, it’s not a snowball fight, it’s war. 

Seven would have been working into the early hours of the morning when he realised it was snowing and had an absolutely awful idea for a prank.

He went out into his garden, calmly grabbed a fistful of snow, took his time on his way back inside to smooth it into a perfectly spherical ball, prayed, and then launched it into your sleeping face from across the room and fucking bolted.

He knew he was a deadman. You sent in a text demanding that he meet you outside in twenty minutes to settle the score like men. 

Once the smug bastard comes out, you immediately throw a snowball into his face but he ducked, so your snowball missed the target. You forgot he had physical training from the agency and realised this was going to be a lot more difficult than you originally thought.

You weren’t even sure how he manages to make so many snowballs in such a small amount of time  but in the time it takes it you to craft three, he’s got twice as many done and he’s beginning to propel them at you. 

There were about twenty minutes of all-out warfare, with Seven doing dramatic leaps behind bushes and rolls to escape your attacks, all whilst managing to hit you with practically every snowball he threw. 

You were so happy to see him having such fun, knowing that he never got to do this as a child.

It was safe to say he won the snowball fight, and had to give you pouty kisses afterwards to make up for his prank. 

Jumin Han Snowball Fight Headcanons

Jumin had never been in a snowball fight before and isn’t entirely sure what he’s supposed to be doing, so he sends you a wary look when you threw a snowball at him, hitting him in the chest. He had come outside onto the rooftop terrace to admire the scenic snow on the city with you, and you assault him? He is offended.

‘____, what are you doing? You’re going to get my suit wet an-’ You threw another one into his leg followed up with the sweetest, most innocent look you could muster. He sighed. He resigned himself to humouring you, since it would clearly make you happy and he was always one to indulge you.

You explained to him what he was supposed to do and he asked for a practice shot, which you were unwilling to give him. 

Jumin’s aim was absolutely terrible and he mentions making a note to practice such things as this imperfection should be ironed out and- you threw another one at him. He smirked and gave you a look, before attempting to throw more of the snowballs he had delicately crafted at you and even managed to hit a few on your thighs and stomach.

Despite not particularly caring for such activities himself, he enjoyed seeing this playful side of you, even if it was a bit cheeky.

Jihyun Kim/V Snowball Fight Headcanons

The two of you would be out early in the morning so V could take pictures of the sunrise hitting the untouched snow, reflecting the beautiful colours of the scenery. 

V also decided that he wanted some pictures of you in the same setting, with your long flowing dressing gown settled softly atop the snow. Of course, you indulged him.

After a few minutes of him taking your picture, you noticed he had smiled and was satisfied with his images for today. He turned to put his camera down on the table and take a sip of his coffee when something cold and wet exploded on the back of his head. It was a snowball.

It’s a little difficult for him to imagine himself in a snowball fight since he can’t see brilliantly and he feels like his aim will be off, but he’s more than willing to try since you wanted to play. 

You run over to help him down the steps and into the large garden before you retreated back to your original position. You kept it fair though and stayed in his field of vision.

V wasn’t usually one to let off steam in such a way, so he seemed a little tense at first and didn’t throw the snowballs too hard in fear of accidentally hurting you. He missed more than he landed, so you were definitely winning the snowball fight.

He didn’t mind though, he was far more invested in the sight he saw before him: the adorning smile on your face, the red flush of your cheeks from the cold, snowflakes clinging to your hair and your dressing gown flowing against the breeze behind you as you ran. He could never capture such beauty if he tried.

Saeran Choi Snowball Fight Headcanons

Saeran doesn’t really enjoy the cold weather, it chills him straight to the bones so he either needs to wrap up in a bundle of layers otherwise he can’t stay out in it for very long. 

However, the boy must go and buy his ice-cream from the convenience store since his ‘idiot brother’ ate the last of it without ordering more. You offered to go for him, since you were worried about him slipping and hurting himself, but he didn’t know which flavour he wanted, so you decided to accompany him instead. 

The both of you were almost back at Seven’s when you got the idea to start a snowball fight, so you suddenly grabbed some snow and threw it at Saeran, hitting him in the shoulder. 

He turned around and was both confused and annoyed, demanding to know why you hit him. You were also confused at his annoyance, but it quickly dawned on you that he didn’t know what a snowball fight was. He’d never had the chance to do it. He was never allowed out when he was a child and even if he had, he would have been too sickly to go out playing in the snow anyway. 

You explained it to him and his expression softened when he realised it was a playful activity, and that he should try making up for the lost time. Saeran awkwardly knelt down, collected some snow and stiffly threw it back at you in the hip. He seemed nervous to make sure he was doing it correctly and looked at you for affirmation. You smiled and laughed, encouraging him to do it again as you collected more snow. 

It was a very small, soft start for him.

Bonus: When the two of you got back to Seven’s house, his brother came to the door to plead Saeran’s forgiveness and asked if you got him any snacks from the shop, and was immediately met with a snowball to the face from Saeran. 

[sabraeal]

Sic Semper Monstrum, Chapter 6

[Read on AO3]

Obiyukiweek 2021, Day 2: Death Upright: Change, Ending, Release Reversed: Refusal to Change, Unfulfillment, Stagnation

A seam strains along a well-worn shoulder, so stretched he can actually hear it creak over the din of the canteen. That clinches is: that asshole’s got to be picking out too-small fatigues from the GI bin.

There’s no other way for him to look like that, biceps testing the tensile strength of cotton every time he takes a sip of his coffee. Sure, this guy’s jacked the way all the active rangers are, ready to heave 750 tons of metal onto their backs at a moment’s notice, but he’s not Mitsuhide. It makes sense when he pops buttons off his coverall, or stretches out one of their dingy cotton tees. But that’s not this asshole.

He’s lean, the kind that telegraphs that taking an elbow from him might be career limiting. There’s no reason the general issue tee should cling to his back like it’s painted on, his coverall hanging off his hips like he’s got an occupation other than freeloading. Shirayuki leans over, fingertips brushing over his sleeve with a laugh--

“Just punch him already,” Kiki drawls, “get it out of your system.”

Zen blinks, suddenly aware there’s still some Taco Tuesday left in his mouth. “What?”

“Kiki.” Dark bruises circle the skin beneath Mitsuhide’s eyes, underscoring the weary strain in his voices. “We shouldn’t be encouraging that sort of behavior.”

“Why not?” Her elbows dig into formica as she leans over her plate, shoveling rice into her mouth. At her father’s table, Kiki knows the use of every spoon, the name of every fork, but this deep in the dome, Ranger Seiran’s never met a meal she can’t inhale in five minutes flat. “I did it.”

Air hisses right through his perfect teeth, the only sign he’s annoyed besides the tense bar of his shoulders. “And you’re lucky you didn’t get caught.”

Kiki hums around the lip of her mug. “You mean like you did with Lugis?”

Mitsuhide doesn’t have skin like his, the sort that flares up like flash paper at the barest hint of sun or taunting. But still his neck flushes red as a burn, so bright Zen’s half tempted to slap it, just so he knows what it’s like.

“T-that was an accident,” he insists, even as his mouth settles into a satisfied smile. “Even the inquiry said so.”

It’s a struggle to keep his own from curling at the edges. “Only because Lugis didn’t want to press charges.”

“Only because he didn’t want it getting out that a girl ran circles around him on the mat,” Kiki corrects, each word a scalpel’s slice, excising those particulars from that shitshow with surgical precision. They can talk about this; Lugis’s challenge and the way Kiki swept him; that he was hardly on his feet when Mitsuhide somehow mislaid his fist and found it in his face, but everything else, the whys of it--

Those are all off the record. Forever. Or at least they would be, if Lugis wasn’t crawling through the dome like a stoat that’s caught whiff of an egg.

But that’s not what this is about. “And you want me to do that with that asshole?” Zen mutters. “Since it made Mitsuhide such good friends with Lugis, after all.”

“Obi isn’t Hisame,” Kiki informs him with the kind of steel in her tone that suggests she won’t be taking critique on that particular assessment. “All your issues with him are external.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he snaps, teeth gritting down.

It’s a mistake, a rookie one at that: never ask a Seiran a question you don’t want the answer to. “He’s got Shirayuki’s attention and you don’t.”

Mitsuhide clears his throat, shoulders set like Zen better plan to shelter in place. This particular storm isn’t about to hit its usual conversational breakwall. “Attention you’d have, if you hadn’t skipped out on your session.”

Zen grips the table to take that hit. But it’s not nearly the last; the stare Kiki turns to him is wide-eyed, half-betrayed. “You didn’t say anything about that.”

“It’s none of your business.” Even as the words fly from him, he knows it’s not fair, that he’s spitting nails into the wind so that they’ll hurt someone else instead of him. It doesn’t stop him, it never does, but a guilty knot settles in his gut. “The sessions are voluntary. They always have been. I don’t need--”

“Someone to keep your head on straight?” Every syllable snaps like ice, her eyes twice as cold. “That was the whole point, wasn’t it? So if something happens to us, you’d have--”

He can’t listen to this, not another word. “That was never the plan! I would never plan for you guys...”

Not coming back. For Redwood Dancer to be left a ruin on the sea floor, their bodies strapped in, hermetically sealed until the ocean wore the jaeger down to parts.

“Nothing is happening to you guys,” he grits out. “Shirayuki was always an addition, not a-- a replacement, because you’ll never--”

“No one can promise that.” Mitsuhide’s never one to throw a first punch, but oh, does he know how to end a fight. All the breath’s knocked clean out of him, and there’s Dancer’s right hand, shoveling down another bite of rice like it’s nothing. “Every time we go out there it’s a flip of a coin. It doesn’t matter how good we are, one day there’s going to be a kaiju that kicks us clean off our feet.”

He shakes his head, wishing the words would fall right out of them. “No. That’s not--”

“Zen.” He’s never heard a siren’s call, but it can’t be as inexorable as Mitsuhide saying his name in that tone, both firm and pitying and mournful all at once. “You know better than anyone. Rangers don’t grow old.”

There’s no thought when he levers himself up from the table, just up with away chasing its heels. He just can’t be here listening to this, not now, not after they just barely crawled home from another kaiju clawing its way across Korea’s shoreline. Not when he knows he should be fighting shoulder-to-shoulder with them-- that he would be if they stopped trying to saddle him with every rookie that rolled out of the simulator and finally put him with the only person that could fill that brace beside him.

“Zen!”

It’s easy to ignore Mitsuhide’s shout over the dinner rush; it’s just part of the noise, a buzz at the edge of his senses. Something to goad him, to push him out of there before either of them think to follow after. Their pity’s the last thing he needs, the last thing he wants. After all, it’s not him that won’t climb in the Conn-Pod, but his--

“Boss!”

Zen blinks, the empty corridor resolving around him. He’d let his feet carry him, their only imperative away-- and now he’s all turned around, every bulkhead the same. He’s heard about this happening to rangers when they lived in the dome too long; chasing the Minotaur, a ranger called it, three drinks down at the local hangar. And no fine little princess to give you string to find your way out.

Except he did have one of those. A person to help him through the labyrinth, even if she couldn’t show him the way. He’d been avoiding her.

That seems stupid now. It’s not like she’s on that asshole’s--

“Hey! Hey, boss.”

Speak of the devil. Zen turns, and there he is, too-tight t-shirt and all: his own personal problem. “What do you want?”

“Nothing.” He holds out his hands, as if that’s proof enough to clear him of ulterior motives. “I just...saw you head out and it looked like...”

Zen’s shoulders square, body braced like they’re back on the mat. “Looked like what?”

Obi’s breath rushes out of him. “It looked like you shouldn’t be alone.”

It’s not until he lifts his hand that he realizes it’s trembling, barely able to push his bangs back where he needs them. “Yeah? And you thought-- what? I’d want to see you?” Even to his own ears, his laugh is bitter, wrong, like it came from someone else’s mouth. “You, the guy who won’t get out of my way?”

Something ripples across this asshole’s face, too fast for him to catch more than its wake. “You think I’m the stick stuck in the mud here?” When those strange cat’s eyes stare at him, it’s out of placid waters, but that grin on his face-- it doesn’t reach them. “Rock, meet hard place.”

Zen’s hands clench, so hard his knuckles creak. “You think this is a joke? You’re trying to shove your ass in a seat that isn’t for you, and you--”

“You think I want to be out there?” He lets out a bark somewhere between pitying and derisive, arms folding over his chest. Zen takes special care not to check how stressed his seams are. “I did my time, Your Highness. I got out. I got told no one would ever look for me again.”

“Then why are you here?” Zen spits. “No one wants you.”

“You don’t know how true I wish that was.” A hand pulls at his shoulder, long fingers digging in around the blade. “But your brother dragged me down the coast because I’m not done. I’ll never be done, because I can’t sit on the sidelines and watch Snotju or Head Banger or whatever cosmic asshole crawls out of the rift wreck another wall.”

His hand lifts, scrubbing through the bristle of his hair, just a shade too shaggy to be regulation. “It’s fucked up, isn’t it, Master? I’m the one who doesn’t want to be here, but I’m the one who’s got the balls to get back in that jaeger. And you--” a cold gaze rakes over him-- “you’re content to sit there and watch the world burn just because I’m not--”

“Shut up.” He’s trembling, every muscle straining against his self-control. “Shut the fuck up. You don’t know a goddamn thing--”

“I’ve been in your head,” that asshole reminds him. “I know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“You don’t.” He can’t. “You don’t fucking know a thing about me.”

He cocks a hip, grin loaded like a bullet. “The prove it.”

Kiki’s right: in the instant where his knuckles hit that cut-glass cheekbone, Zen feels great.

Shirayuki’s office has always put him at ease; he stepped in here the first time before she’d even properly covered the walls, the tension seeping right out of him into the push carpet under his boots. There’s just something about how she fills a space-- something that has nothing to do with furniture or wall hangings or motivational posters-- that makes his brain put out whatever chemical that means safe. He’d never understood why the other rangers avoided her, not when they could have forty minutes in the room equivalent of a warm hug.

But it’s different this time.

“Izana made you call me here.” He’s ramrod straight on her worn couch, hands clenched in his lap. Or rather, right over the throw pillow he moved to sit. “Didn’t he?”

“The Marshal’s personal feelings have nothing to do with this.” Her words snap like a window on a sill, closing on that topic with a sense of finality he expected from the top brass, not their therapist. “The PPDC’s code of conduct is quite clear on the procedure to be followed after a non-sanctioned physical altercation between personnel.”

There’s a loose thread right by the fringe; he’d noticed it months ago, but never dared to tug it. Every time he’d felt the urge, he’d think of dominoes and load-bearing pillars, of the whole edge unraveling in his hands right as she looked at him.

Today, he pulls. It comes right off with a snap. “And that’s the only reason you brought me in?“

Shirayuki turns to him, one incredulous brow raised. “You were the one who cancelled our last session--” her mouth twitches as she twists the knife-- “last minute.”

Well, he deserves that one. Sure, he’s had his reasons, but Shirayuki-- well, she deserved more than one step up from ghosting. If the thought of having to look anyone in the eye after all that hadn’t made his stomach turn for three days, maybe he would have come to that conclusion before Kiki ripped him a new one over it.

“Sorry about that,” he mutters, aware with every word that it’s not enough, that there’s not enough apologies to patch up the trust he broke. “I wasn’t...ready to talk.”

He expects the clap back; yeah I got the message, or but you were ready to take a swing? But he should have known: that’s not how Shirayuki works. She’s a professional, whether that’s what he wants from her or not.

Instead he face softens, right back into his friend. “I know. What happened in the drift can be...intense.” She hesitates, teeth sinking into the plush bow of her lip. “I just wish that you had felt comfortable conveying that to me. As my patient, you’re supposed to be able to control--”

“I don’t want to be your patient.”

Her mouth closes with a grunt, hand pressed to her stomach as if he hit her. “O-oh,” she murmurs, breathless. “I hadn’t realized that you, ah, wanted to terminate our sessions--”

“No!” God, it would be nice to be able to say this all smooth like he’s sure that jacked asshole can, leaning against a wall with his hand right by her head, sexual tension rocking the Richter scale. “I just meant--” his teeth try to grind down his thoughts into something palatable-- “Shirayuki, I don’t want to just be your patient.”

He could fall into her eyes they’re so wide, rounded ‘o’s that match her mouth’s geometry. “Ah, Zen, that’s...”

“I don’t mean because I-I like you.” Even though he does, but there’s rules for that. The kind the PPDC will look the other way on, but not Shirayuki. She’s not from under the dome; she still worries about what people might think outside of it. “I just...wish you were on my side.”

“I am on your side.” Her shoulders pull straight against the back of her chair, her soft look hardening into resolve. “Which is different from telling you want you want to hear.”

He jerks back, cheeks stinging like he’d been slapped. “I didn’t say I wanted that,” he mumbles, hands clenching over his lap. “But I don’t need you to tell me to do whatever it is Izana wants me to either.”

“I wasn’t going to.” The notebooks in her lap closes with a snap, and with trembling fingers, she sets aside her shield. “Izana wants you back in a jeager for the legacy. For the unbroken line of Wisterias standing between humanity and the rift. But I...”

Her eyes lift to his, and they’re no longer the lush, leafy green of a forest, but the hard glint of emerald. “If you get back in that cockpit, you need to do it for yourself.”

It’s an effort not to say, I don’t see the difference.

“I saw you when the siren went off.”

Zen scrubs a hand over his face; he remembers. Their eyes had met over that seething mass of fear and competence, and-- and he’d been so sure that if he saw her, something more than that glimpse of red in the corner of his vision, he’d forget every inch of his resolve and go to her. That he’d just take her in his arms and tell her all the thoughts roiling in the sea of his mind, but--

But he hadn’t. He’s taken one look at her and, without even a pang of guilt, left her there. A real hero.

“Zen.” She says his name so firmly, so seriously, that his head jerks up, gaze tangling with hers. “You don’t want to be on the sidelines. You don’t want to be the general hiding being his troops. You want to be out there, Rex Tyrannis shoulder-to-shoulder with Redwood Dancer. And you could be.”

It’s his breath that’s rasping, the death rattle of the man he’s let himself be these past few years. “How?”

There’s not an ounce of hesitation in her when she says. “You have to choose to move forward.”

And cozy up in the cockpit with that asshole. He thinks about that grin, cocked with a confidence he’s never been in the neighborhood of having, and...

It’s so familiar that his double vision makes his head pound. “I can’t work with that-- Obi. I won’t.”

“I know that...” Her lips press together, bursting apart with a pop. “I know there’s no limit to the amount of people a ranger could potentially drift with, but there’s something...special when you find the right one. That there’s something right about it than can’t ever be replaced.”

He stares, head galloping in his chest. She shouldn’t know that-- there’s no way she could. Most rookies out of the academy just drift successfully once, and that’s it-- that’s their partner, for better or worse, like marrying the first kid you kiss. There’s exceptions-- emergencies, injury, irreconcilable differences-- but even though this job has a high turnover...rangers rarely die alone. There’s not enough people for a paper.

“Yeah, I’ve...heard that too.” Probably from the same mouth she did, though it seems Mitsuhide’s polished the speech since he last gave it. To him, at least.

“I understand that you have a vision of who you want beside you in the pod,” Shirayuki presses, voice growing tighter, more tense with every word. “But Atri’s gone.”

Every drop of blood in him turns to ice. “Atri?”

Her breath hisses out through her teeth, relief slumping her shoulders. “I know no one can be him, but--”

“You think this is about Atri?” A giggle bubbles up from him, bitter on his tongue. “I’ve been sitting here for weeks-- no, months! And you think all this, the whole reason I won’t climb in a jaeger with just anyone off the street is because of Atri?”

Every corner of her face lost. “Isn’t it?”

“No, I...” He pinches the bridge of his nose, like it might stem the pounding of his heart behind his brow. This whole time he’d been so careful, trying to be understood for once, to let someone see him instead of his mistakes--

But he should have known; as long as his brother is obsessed with sending him an endless parade of nobodies which he sits behind a desk, it’ll only be his hang ups hung out for everyone to rifle through.

“I should go,” he finally manages, levering himself to his feet. The room spins, his heartbeat thrumming in his ears, but he can’t stay here, not when she thinks-- when she’s always thought--

“Zen,” she murmurs, voice muffled by distance. “Are you all right?”

--That he’s pathetic. “Yeah.” He stumbles to the door, swinging it open. “I just need to--”

And of course, standing right there is that asshole, hand half-raised to knock.

“Boss,” he breathes, clearly stunned. “I, uh, didn’t think you’d be...”

The awkwardness in the office is palpable, so thick that he might as well be moving through molasses. Before this guy showed up, he’d though he had half a chance; he was practically the only one outside of K-Science that would even look at her, and his sessions always felt like more, but now--

Well, it’s no wonder he didn’t stand half a chance next to him, if she thought he was waiting for Atri.

“Don’t worry about it.” Zen pushes back him, shoulder clipping his. Or at least near enough to claim the feat. “I’d hate to keep you two from your--” date-- “dinner plans.”

Shirayuki’s breath gasps from her. “Zen, wait, we’re not--”

“It’s fine,” he lies, every muscle tense where he stands, fighting the urge to look back. “A couple of things are clearer now.”

It’s not just her. They all think he’s waiting for him, that one day he might stroll back in here like nothing happened, and Zen--

“Please.” Shirayuki’s voice trembles, and even if he’s not looking, he knows she’s at the door, vibrating in its frame. “Let’s just finish the session.”

-- and Zen’s been giving them nothing else to work with. All these years, looking like a kid stood up on prom night.

“No, I just remembered there’s something I’ve got to do.” He forces a smile on his face, giving her a bare hint of it as he peeks over his shoulder. “I’ll see you next week.”

It kills him how much hope lights in her eyes. “Next week?”

“That our appointment, isn’t it?” he says, light tone limping. “Unless I see you around the dome before then.”

“Right,” she breathes, cheeks flushed at both corners of her smile. Obi’s watching her, concern writ large in his eyes, and well-- maybe he’s not as much of an asshole as Zen wanted to believe. “Until then.”

He gets halfway down the hall, before Obi calls out, “Hey, boss...”

It’s clear when he looks back that Obi hadn’t meant to speak, but now that he has, he clear his throat, giving himself a visible shake.

“You could come with us,” he says, hesitant. “If you wanted.”

It’s an olive branch, one he doesn’t deserve. One he should take, if he wants all this to heal over without a scar. But he’s not ready for that, not yet.

“No.” He shakes head. “I wasn’t joking about having something I got to do. Go enjoy yourselves.”

This is a terrible idea.

He knows it the entire time he’s walking, the anxiety cresting the second he sees the plate on the door, engraved and letters painted black: IZANA WISTERIA. MARSHAL.

“Well,” Izana hums from his desk. “Are you going pace outside my office all day, or are you planning to come in?”

Zen lets out a rush of breath and pushes the door open the rest of the way.

“You win,” he says, all in a rush. “I’ll do it. I’ll give him another chance.”

“I think at this point, he’s giving you another chance,” Izana tells him, barely glancing up from his pile of papers. “But...I’ll arrange it.”

He nearly says, I figured you’d have it all arranged already, but bites it back. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure. And Zen.” His brother looks up, capping his pen calmly before he folds his hands over the desk. “It’s not me who wins. It’s humanity.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, meeting that steely gaze. “But I’m not doing it for them.”

For once, his brother doesn’t have anything to say.

It’s Obi who’s locked in first this time.

His cheeky smile is already waiting when Zen steps on deck, body gripped by Rex Tyrannis’s hydraulics when he throws him a wink. “Second time’s the charm, right Your Highness?”

“Third time,” Zen mutters, keying in his code. “It’s third time’s the charm.”

“Right, but you were top of your class.” A guy like Obi shouldn’t be so comfortable when he’s got twenty tons pinning him in place, not when he’s got a face just asking to be hit. “So we can shave one of those off, right?”

“Depends.” His mouth twitches. “Where did you rank?”

Obi’s grin grows stiff enough to float. “I think you’d say I’m a natural talent.”

“That bad huh?”

A laugh saws out of him, raw in the loud silence of the pod. “You have no idea.”

“I think I could take a guess.” The hydraulics hug Zen tight; even lifting to his arm to the panel is a chore. “Ready?”

“For you?” Obi’s mouth stretches into a leer.  For once, he feels like he’s in on the joke. “Any time.”

Don’t chase the rabbit. It’s Obi’s voice that says it; not the way he had before, serious and concerned, a scolding and a reminder. No, this one is a laugh restrained, sing-song. One pill makes you big and one makes you small.

There’s a faint riff of guitar, and Zen’s about to tell him to can it, that putting trash in the drift just clogged up the flow, but--

But between one breath-- one blink and the next, he’s lost in the tide, rolling through his memories rudderless. When a hand grips his shoulder and--

“I’m ready.” Zen’s always too honest, too eager but he’s young here, younger than he ever remembers being wearing the badge. “To pick up the legacy. To be what father meant us to be.”

The memory runs true, his younger self still chatting away with Shidnote, unaware that his whole world’s about to be cut off at the knees. But he’s not watching that now, he’s watching the way shadows crawl across his brother’s face, a storm front that appears and vanishes in the moments no one looks.

“About that.” Izana settles his hand on the desk, but the drumming is no longer bored but...nervous. An asynchronous beat that runs at the speed of his thoughts. “I meant to tell you. I’m being promoted.”

“Promoted” The word still kicks his legs out from under him, still knocks the wind out of his lungs as efficiently as any punch to the gut. “But I thought we would--”

“They want me in a command capacity now that Mother’s taking over Anchorage.” Izana won’t look at him. The man who has built his career on being able to stare down Orochi in Sagami Bay can’t bear to look him in the eye. “I’m being taken off active duty.”

“But--” He looks between them. “But--”

“But--”

“But--”

The memory stutters. It’s him, he’s the one who’s pushing away. He’d always thought he couldn’t give this to someone, to some guy right off the street, someone who might pity him, but it’s-- it’s him. He can’t look at this. He can’t face failure another time.

And he doesn’t know how to stop.

Hey. Obi’s voice is too close, but he’s just an outline in the drift, blues and grays fuzzing between misfiring synapses. Hey, we don’t have to watch this.

They do. They have to, if he’s going to get through this.

Right. There’s no way for Obi to sigh here, where there’s no air, but he does, long and loud. It sounds...different. Almost...feminine. I have worse. Want to see me wet the bed when I was--?

The words fuzz before they can continue. Go ahead, Obi says, sounding like himself. Take as much time as you need. It’s not like we have clocks here.

Zen can’t nod here, not without a body, but he breathes, one solid in and out--

“It’s supposed to be us.” Even with the distance of time, every word is carves straight from his flesh, laid out on a platter for his brother to see. “We’re supposed to carry on the legacy.”

“Shidnote will continue on in his current capacity,” Izana explains, bored, as if he didn’t even speak. “He’s served me well. I’m sure you’ll both be sufficiently compatible.”

“But--” Zen grits his teeth. “It’s supposed to be us. Why are you giving me an excuse--?

He blinks. He never said that. He’d been thinking it the whole way to his bunk, but in the moment it had only been a yes sir. I understand, sir.

Then why--

“It’s an excuse.” The shine’s all worn off Atri’s grin, baring the raw edge beneath. “That’s all I’ve ever been to you.”

Scrap litters the floor at his feet; he’s never known what jaeger-grade parts sold for on the black market, but he knows it’s not pocket money. This is a small fortune if someone knew where to sell it.

Which clearly Atri does.

“You’re going to blame me?” Zen’s laugh limps with bitterness. “I catch you with stolen goods, and it’s my--?”

“It’s not stolen, it’s salvage,” Atri snaps, snatching a length of steel from his hands. “It’s not like they’re using it.”

A lie-- there’s not a shred of steel or wire that’s wasted in the dome. Jaegars come with a price tag that only governments can pay, and any corner that can be safely cut on maintenance is considered savings passed onto tax payers. There’s no way he can’t know it, not after six months, but--

He doesn’t care. He never did.

“This is why you agreed to be my copilot.” Every word aches as he births them from his lips, a truth that cuts even as he speaks it. “You didn’t care about protecting your friends. You just wanted access to parts.”

Atri shrugs, the barest twitch of his shoulders. “I never said I gave a single fuck about all that hero shit. You just assumed I did, because you do.”

“But the drift...” His breath wheezes, the way it did when he was a kid, before his dad paid for all that to be fixed. “How did you...?”

“I just thought about the stuff you cared about. Friends. Kaiju. Me.” Atri’s grin turns smug. “Some of us don’t wear our heart on our sleeves, Wisteria.”

Wow. Obi’s outline fuzzes as he circles behind Atri, a single brow raised. He’s a real fucknut, huh?

His memories are jumbles, him-now and him-then all tumbled together until his first instinct is to jump to Atri’s defense. He may not be an academy-trained ranger, someone who has a lifetime worth of experience in a simulator, but put him in Rex Tyrannis and he’ll--

Steal the toilet cover? Obi offers, mouth canting into that insufferable grin. The one that always reminded him of--

Ah.

Obi darts a glance to where Atri stands frozen beside him. Jeeze, you really know how to hit a guy where he lives. You think I look like this asshole?

Just the grin, really. He’s almost a head taller, broader in the shoulders, and Asian besides. Better looking too--

Obi’s smile stretches into a leer. You don’t say, bossman?

Maybe Atri’s right. He’s got to get better about what he thinks about in the drift. Especially with someone this insufferable around.

If anything, Obi’s more amused. So it’s this guy though, he’s whole hold up you have with me? It’s not--

Against his will, Atri springs to life, mouth curled into his nastiest sneer when he says “I don’t know why you’re acting so betrayed. After all, you only wanted me to get back at the Marshal, and I played my part, didn’t I? I’m sure he’d jump in the pod if that meant he could be rid of me.”

“That’s not--” true, he should say. He can’t though, not when he’s not this-Zen, when he’s just looking out from his eyes, straight into Obi’s.

“Yeah.” There’s no spit to swallow in the drift, but he does anyway, a force of habit. “It is.”

The memory fuzzes away from him, and it’s just them now, two men braced in the Conn-pod, staring at each other through their visors.

“Right hemisphere, calibrated.” Zen blinks, watching as his hand opens and closes, the robotic voice’s dulcet tones washing over him.

“I never wanted this, you know,” he murmurs, “not if it wasn’t with my brother. That’s how it was supposed to be, me and him versus the kaiju.”

“Left hemisphere, calibrated.” His arms seem to move on his own, and it’s strange how he can’t keep the smile off his face this time. It feels good, moving like this again.

“No,” he breathes. “It was supposed to be me and him versus the world.”

“Ready to activate the jeager.“

Obi’s arms lift, a fighting stance to mirror his. It’s easy, so easy. Easier than he ever thought it could be. “What changed?”

He’d shrug, if the hydraulics would let him, but this isn’t Redwood Dancer. “Seemed like a shitty reason not to save the world.”

“Calibration complete.”

Obi grins, teeth shining bright under the lights of his visor. “Doc tell you that?”

Zen laughs. “Pretty much.”

“She’s got a gift,” Obi agrees, hands moving in sync with his. “And it’s making you feel like an asshole.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Looks like you jokers are getting along,” Kiki deadpans through their helmets. “How do you feel about taking Rex out for a drag?”

“After being cramped under this dome for months, Princess?” Obi drawls, tossing him a conspiratorial wink. “It’d be my pleasure.”

“Just give us a sec!” It’s been a long time since Zen’s talked much with the crew in CIC, but he recognizes that voice-- Yuzuri, one of Shirayuki’s friends. The peppy one with the cute accessories. The one that told him she’d give him cement shoes if he made her cry. “Let’s see if we can get you off your leash.”

He’d always liked her. Hopefully the feeling’s mutual, since she’s right next to the plug.

“Hey, boss.”

Zen blinks, glancing across the cockpit. “Yeah?”

“I know Atri was supposed to be a big fuck you to His Majesty, but...” He hesitates, thoughtful. “You drifted with the Big Guy for a while after that. Why?”

“Ah--”

It’s impossible not to think of it, the siren rising in the air, the men running past them, voices drowned out by the drone.

“I’ll do it,” he says, glaring up at the man across from him. “At least you know you’re just a seat warmer.”

“Zen--”

He blinks, the memory stuttering beneath him. That’s not what Mitsuhide called him then, that wasn’t until after--

“Zen.”

That’s not inside the memory, that’s inside his helmet. “Mitsuhide?”

“You’re out of alignment.”

He shakes his head, uncomprehending. “What do you--?”

“You’re out of alignment.” He repeats, each words strained. “You both chased the rabbit, and...Obi went straight down the rabbit hole.”

It doesn’t make any sense. “But I--”

“You have to go get him,” Mitsuhide says, dire. “He’s pointing the plasma cannon at Mission Control.”

[nitewrighter]

Does Hanzo ever find out what Genji went through/what he was like during Blackwatch? If so, how does he react?

I think he does eventually, like... Genji lets him know that he was in a very difficult physical and emotional place with Blackwatch, and Hanzo’s able to pick up from Mercy that “Okay no, I don’t think you understand, it was really bad”--but she’s also fairly light on the details mostly for Genji’s sake like “Hey, I’m not going to tell you any more than Genji was comfortable with telling you.” And Zenyatta hangs back for the same reasons, and also he wasn’t there so he doesn’t want to distort the details from what Genji’s told him. So the one person Hanzo can actually get the full story from... is McCree.

Also this fic references the first meeting fic so yeah!

----

“Well?” Hanzo had one elbow resting on the bar. Music was faintly playing but it blended in with the humming murmur of the other patrons. Snowflakes were buffeting the glass of the windowpanes just outside and both of them had shrugged off their heavier coats. The bar itself had a homey, lived-in quality to it. Not dirty, but with a definite age to it that seemed to lend a further brightness to the bodies gliding through it and chatting. The icy Andean wind had heightened the redness of Hanzo’s nose and cheeks well before any alcohol had. It contrasted against the cold discernment of his dark brown eyes.

“I’m gonna answer your question with a question--” McCree started.

“Which isn’t an answer--”

McCree leaned back in his bar seat, folding his arms across himself. He almost looked sagely. “Are you asking this because you genuinely think it will help you get a gauge on your shit and move forward, or are you freaking out because things are going more okay than you think you deserve and feel a need to kick yourself square in the Rocky Mountain oysters?”

“Rocky Mountain--?”

“It’s this fried--I’m talking about--” McCree sighed and sipped his whiskey, “I’m saying you’re doing... you’re doing really well, Hanzo. You’re touching base with the team, reachin’ out, you seem to be sleeping and eating better, hell, you’re clutch on missions, but now you’re asking about this, and it worries me.”

“Why should it worry you?” Hanzo’s eyes narrowed.

“Because--y’know... I care about you. You’re a part of this team and I care about you... in a..” McCree cleared his throat, “Team-y way. And... you were stuck in a dark lonely place and I ain’t itchin’ to give you the means to go back there. ”

“But you can understand that the fact that I don’t have the full story distresses me more, can you not?” said Hanzo, “As well as the fact that knowing the more the truth of it is obscured with me, the worse I can assume the situation was.”

McCree scratched at his beard, frowning. “Yeah... yeah I can understand it--but I can also understand Mercy and Zen not spillin’ the beans on Genji’s account.”

“Mm...” Hanzo glanced off and sipped his own drink.

McCree twisted his glass slowly, “Then again, sometimes I think Reyes brought me on the team to begin with because I have a pretty high success rate with the whole, ‘Beg forgiveness before asking permission’ rate.”

Ana called you a charmer, the words almost slipped out of Hanzo but he wasn’t sure how they would land, so he held them in. Instead, Hanzo only mildly gestured at the bartender to refill McCree’s glass.

“Don’t think you’re getting it just because you’re gettin’ me drunk. It ain’t exactly a pretty story,” said McCree.

“I’m prepared,” said Hanzo.

McCree studied him a few moments longer, one hand still wrapped around his glass and one corner of his mouth pulled up with indecision before he closed his eyes and exhaled. “All right,” he said, “If only to keep you from kicking your own ass over what you don’t know.”

“I want you to start at the beginning,” said Hanzo, his stare steady.

“Well t’be fair, Blackwatch was casin’ Hanamura for months, even before your old man passed--er---my condolences--”

Hanzo snorted a little. “It’s... fine,” he said a bit awkwardly. He was more disarmed than really upset at the idea that McCree may have been far better versed in the activities of the Shimada Clan than he had really anticipated.

“Gérard, that is, our UN Attaché, had this whole thing about ‘pulling everything out to the light,’---And the fella was good at it. Could sniff out paper trails and track down dirty money like no other. The initial plan was to get Genji on possession charges and drag the whole clan out behind him. Your old man’s passin’--again, condolences--threw the whole schedule off though. And then we received additional intel that the Shimada dragons might be more.... uh... what’s the word for ‘unusual’ but it’s like... more business-y unusual?”

Hanzo shrugged.

“Un... Im... Uhhh.... Anomalous! That’s the word! Might be more anomalous than we thought and ‘warranting further investigation’ or whatever,” McCree seemed to be easing into the story now, plucking up details from debriefings, “SEP and all its affiliates had been more or less shut down post-Crisis, but there were still worries about human experimentation... strange abilities, and the like. And the dragon stories had been floating around your family for decades, but only when things got destabilized did we consider they might be more than stories. Then we got word that the wheels had been set in motion that the clan would kill Genji before we could get our hands on him--Arrest mission became extraction mission, and extraction mission became rescue mission. The time frame was so sudden we had to bring the Doc along because we thought she would be our best chance at saving him--She wasn’t in Blackwatch, you understand. Wasn’t too keen on undermining the Japanese government either. But... it turns out bringing her along was the right choice.”

Hanzo seemed to be maintaining a veneer of calm, but there was an unmistakeable new undercurrent of tension in his movements and expression as he sipped his own drink.

“You know what he looked like when you left him,” said McCree, “Do you really want me to go into the details there?”

“Yes,” said Hanzo.

McCree huffed and took another gulp of whiskey. The burn of alcohol rasped the first few words of his next sentence. “So it was me, Reyes, the Doc, and a handful of Blackwatch extraction medics touching down in Hanamura that night. Apparently the Shimada clan’s forces were decentralized from the castle. We infiltrated the castle grounds. Found a handful of your security already dead. Took out one more... left his body with the others. Didn’t have time to run a full investigation, or lock anything down. Finding Genji was the top priority. And we found him. Three limbs gone. Puddle of his own blood. Looked midway between... someone had dropped him in a garbage disposal but at the same time... not right--just... gone. The limbs were gone. The wounds were too clean but still bleedin’ out.”

Hanzo’s knuckles curled in, white and shaking as he took a steadying breath. “Consumed,” Hanzo said quietly, “The dragon consumed them.”

“I can stop--” McCree started.

“Finish what you start, Cowboy,” Hanzo’s voice was steady.

McCree swallowed. “I’d seen some fucked up shit under Reyes, but this... yeah, it was new. I kind of froze up, not quite scared, but just trying to make sense of it. But then I snapped out of it as the Doc rushed to him first. I had a vantage point in case other castle security showed up. Reyes was at the opening to that big-ass balcony so he could flag down our evac. So uh, what you need to understand here is that we uh... we actually had very little solid intel as to what the Shimada dragons were capable of.”

“...but I had left the scene well before this,” said Hanzo, trying to puzzle out the timeline of his own fleeing the castle grounds.

“Yeah it... wasn’t your dragon we saw,” said McCree, “See, the Doc, she had to do this... staff... defibrillation thing? I didn’t get a good look at it but Genji, he uh...started thrashin’ and this light sprang out of him. Bright green. Never seen anything like it. He was screaming. Next thing I know he’s grabbing Mercy’s neck.”

Hanzo flinched with some alertness. “What?”

“I mean--first instinct, I’m saying to Reyes, ‘Boss, I got a shot’--like, I know the mission was asset acquisition, but light show or not I wasn’t about to let him kill Angela, but then she hollers out ‘Don’t shoot him!’ And I’m stuck there looking to Reyes like, ‘You’re gonna override that, right?’ And... and Reyes was so calm... I--I could see him doing the math. Breaking people down to resources... breaking their deaths down to trade-offs...”

“You... thought you had to shoot Genji--” Hanzo’s brow was crinkling.

“If Reyes gave me the word,” McCree shrugged, then itched at the brim of his hat, “I never thought someone would hesitate on saving the doc like he was doing right there, though. But.... then she said something to Genji. Never asked what it was, but it seemed to calm him down before he passed out.”

“And you’re saying he grabbed her neck when they first met,” Hanzo’s eyes were narrowed, “But they’re...”

“Well, he was only half-conscious and in this full-on survival mode and she had just... jammed a huge amount of biotic-whatever into his chest. He didn’t know if she was helping or trying to... y’know it was like those times you nearly punched me in the face when I was trying to wake you up from those night terrors.”

“I’m sorry for that,” said Hanzo.

“Psh. If I had a nickel for every time someone took a swing at me out of some kind of traumatic reflex...” he smiled to try and make this seem more lighthearted than it actually was, but Hanzo seemed to still be processing everything, so McCree cleared his throat. “Word of advice, though, don’t make any ‘I guess you’re into that’ jokes with the doc,” he said with a nervous laugh, “No it uh... it took them both a while. I mean, there was this thing there, definitely, but yeah, they were both neck-deep in a whole bunch of shit for a while before they really acknowledged anything.”

“Did Genji take a swing at you?” asked Hanzo.

“Not outside of a Blackwatch sparring ring,” said McCree, “But Jesus, he was scary on the training floor. Still is, sometimes.” McCree paused for a few seconds. “He was obsessed with killing you, y’know. Taking down the whole clan and killing you. Every mission where he got a sniff of you, every mission he thought you might be there and you weren’t, he’d come back snarling.” 

Hanzo blinked a few times and glanced down. He knew it made sense, given the idea of justice their family had ingrained in them, but there was still an odd sting to the idea. But I’m his brother, he thought, but then he thought, But that didn’t stop me. 

McCree seemed to take Hanzo’s silence as permission to go on. “ I’d try to distract him... try to get his head out of his ass sometimes, but a lot of the time... you see any living thing in a state like that, all you can do is give it space. Genji did give us a decent amount of intel on the Shimada clan’s bigger operations... but when it came to actually getting in there... he was always the first one on the ground. As you can imagine, it was personal for him. There were a handful of bullshit ‘stakeouts’ in Japan where Genji would ditch me... I knew Reyes wasn’t telling me the whole story, then again, it wasn’t my job to know the whole story.” McCree sipped his drink. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t know what he was doing, though.”

“...killing heads of the clan,” Hanzo said quietly.

“Can’t exactly confirm or deny that but... yeah,” said McCree. A prickle of alarm seemed to go through him. “Look, I don’t want to kick off any more brother-killing fuckery--”

“You’re not, Jesse,” Hanzo’s voice was subdued, “I was the right hand of the clan... and the destruction wrought by Genji was, if anything, a product of my own actions.”

“Also his actions--He was fucking nightmare--I mean I liked him, but he was a fucking nightmare, sometimes. Lashed out--like... you didn’t really think of him as giving a shit about you with all that seething over the Shimada clan--- but then he’d know how to say something that hurts, and he knows exactly how it hurts, and you wouldn’t know if he learned how to hurt that bad from your family or just because he was hurtin’ that bad and---” McCree seemed to catch the alarmed look in Hanzo’s eyes, then took a steadying breath before sipping his drink again, “Look... this stuff... it’s all in the past. And he is a lot better now. And he is one of my best friends. Kind of wild how someone who hurt you that deeply can be a best friend like that, but... that’s kind of how life works. Kind of how this shit works when you don’t know if you’re coming back from that next mission. We’re all fucked up here. It’s about learning to take the fucked up parts of yourself and trying to make it into something that helps the people that mean something to you. ”

“The people that mean something to me...” Hanzo repeated quietly.  He remembered McCree’s words from his second night on the watchpoint. ‘We’re all just background noise to you. You’re just here so you can stop kicking your own ass after Genji.’ Then he remembered Genji’s words. ‘Well... you’ve been traveling the world for a decade... has there... been anyone? Anyone special? Anyone you loved?’

“...I feel like I’ve let that part of me atrophy,” Hanzo said quietly. Answering Genji’s question, not McCree’s words.

“Atrophy?” McCree repeated.

“When you don’t use a muscle for a long time and... it ceases to be able to functi--”

“I know what ‘Atrophy’ means--” McCree wasn’t making eye contact, “You let... caring about other people... atrophy,” he parsed, trying to trace out Hanzo’s thought process.

“Mm,” Hanzo took a sip of his own drink, “So while I was wandering in grief, Genji was consumed by pain and rage.”

“Which... he’s told you,” said McCree. 

“Well, yes, but he didn’t go into details,” said Hanzo, “I know, this might be difficult or painful to talk about, but I really do appreciate getting a more complete picture of what happened to him after my actions.” 

McCree tilted his own glass back and forth on the bar counter, letting the whiskey rock around the interior.“I know, but...don’t heap all this on yourself. Reyes always said he wanted the cockroach motherfuckers, and he was more than happy to let Genji snap and swear and lash out and burn the house down because that suited Blackwatch’s agenda better than, I dunno, therapy? Only when we got benched after the Venice incident did he yank in Genji’s leash, because hey, it turned out having a PTSD cyborg tearin’ around the base cussin’ people out wasn’t a good look for Blackwatch.” 

Hanzo huffed a little. There was an odd comfort in that. But then he paused, running over the course of McCree’s words in his mind. “...you keep bringing up Reyes,” Hanzo said, fixing his eyes on McCree.

“Sorry--I--I know this should be about Genji,” said McCree.

“No it... it gives some perspective,” said Hanzo, “You trusted Reyes, didn’t you?”

McCree’s mouth tightened for a few seconds before he drew in a short breath through his nostrils. “Yeah... yeah, I did. He just... I mean I’d keep telling myself I was my own person, that I did things with my own style, but so did he. So like... whether it’s ‘your own style’ from fuckin’ Santa Fe or Los Angeles... is there really that much of a difference? If you still picture yourself in their boots, give or take a decade or so?”

“Hm,” Hanzo was thoughtful at this, “I imagined myself in my father’s position so long that when everything came apart and I found myself wandering the world, dodging the clan’s assassins I felt... like a stranger.” 

“Kind of liked being a stranger,” said McCree with slight shrug, “Stranger’s from nowhere. Got nothing to prove.... guess it probably hits different if you got a whole... magical crime lord prince destiny thing, huh?”

“The dragon is not magical,” said Hanzo flatly, but a smile was tugging at his lips. 

“Debatable,” said McCree, “First of all: It’s a dragon.”

Hanzo snorted and a quiet pause passed between them. Not uncomfortable, but definitely tired, letting McCree’s words and all the pain and memory that came with them drift and dissipate into the warm air of the bar.

“...I could tell you more if you want,” said McCree, after a few beats. “I do have funnier stories... wasn’t all... ‘he was fucked up.’ And--Genji did seem to be getting better-ish towards the end there, once they put him on Tracer’s strike team... but by then Overwatch itself was coming apart.” He snorted. “I guess that’s kind of a running theme with this stuff.”

“I appreciate the offer,” said Hanzo with a slight chuckle. He paused. “Tracer’s strike team?”

“Well, she and Winston probably got more stories there than I do,” said McCree, “And maybe the doc, if it���s in good faith.” He sipped his drink. “You’re welcome to run off to try and ask them about it.”

“I think... this is enough for now,” said Hanzo. After a few beats he said, “You’re not... all background noise to me.”

“What?” said McCree.

“That... you said that on the second night,” said Hanzo, “It’s... it’s not that I don’t value life, or other people--I’m just... it’s been a very long time since I’ve worked with other people, since I’ve talked to other people on a regular basis like this, since I’ve stayed in one place this long, and...”  he trailed off, then took a sip of his own drink with some resolve, “I’m afraid,” he said, letting those words sit in the air for a few seconds, “I’m afraid of lending my abilities to another organization that’s used people to hurt other people and then tossed them aside. When your only connection to other people for most of your life was this twisted blood loyalty...” Hanzo trailed off.

“I’m scared of makin’ the same mistakes too, for what it’s worth,” said McCree, “I don’t think fear like that ever goes away.”

“Redemption’s a bitch?” said Hanzo with a slight smile.

McCree broke into chuckles. “You should swear more often. I feel like that’ll help.”

“You’ve sworn plenty for the both of us, tonight,” said Hanzo crisply, sipping his own drink.

“Still, I’m gonna make it a mission to get a ‘fuck’ out of you,” said McCree and Hanzo choked and sputtered. “I didn’t mean it like that! You know what I mean!” McCree was laughing as Hanzo’s attention was split between choking and laughing and desperately looking around for a napkin after spitting his drink. The bartender swooped by with a napkin and the laughs boiled down into chuckles as Hanzo cleaned up a bit. There was another pause then, that same settling of understanding.

“Thank you,” Hanzo said after a few beats.

“You already thanked me--don’t know what’s worth thanking about saying ‘hey your brother was fucked up and so were we.’”

“Honesty. I appreciate honesty.”

McCree smiled and then shrugged.“Hey--y’know, for all the shit I give you,” McCree started and trailed off, “What I said that night about... all of us being background noise... I know that.. that wasn’t really fair. You really didn’t know any of us and, y’know, as far as the general public is concerned, we’re a whole bunch of mercenary weirdoes doing vigilante shit.” 

“And Genji was the only person here I knew, and was really...” Hanzo sighed, “I suppose, I fixed him in my mind to be my last chance at humanity--and made myself out to be a monster to all of you in pursuing that.”

“Well... you’re doing better, I can tell you that much. And... y’know folks are warming up to you.”

“Except Angela,” said Hanzo, with a weary smile. 

“She needs time on that... I wouldn’t try to force it,” said McCree, “Baby steps and all that.” 

Hanzo huffed a little.

“Hey,” McCree lifted his glass, “To baby steps and runnin’ the hell away from all our old role models.”

“Indeed,” Hanzo clinked his glass against Genji’s. Both sipped their drinks and another pause passed over them. Hanzo felt McCree’s eyes on him and looked over at him.l

“Hey just so we’re clear,” McCree’s chin was in his hand, “I didn’t accidentally kick off some huge new bloody vengeance thing by telling you all this, right?”

“You did not,” said Hanzo with a wry smile.

“Oh thank god.” 

[joshslater]

Beached

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It's really amazing how the beaches can be so empty when the weather is this good. It's technically winter or spring or whatever, but that just means you can spend all day on the beach without getting heatstroke or sunburn. No one else appears to agree with me though. Someone is walking a dog in the distance in one direction, and some surfers are ignoring the warnings of big waves in the distance in the other direction. Like that would be bad thing in their minds, though just right now it isn't as windy as in the morning. Volatile weather is another drawback of spring weather.

I don't think it is the weather that is keeping people away though. This whole plague thing is really messing with people. The hotel was almost deserted and the room dirt cheap. Flight was cheap too. The plan was to go here with Will, but he chickened out at the last moment. Probably the positivity rates of their "second wave" or whatever. The tickets were refundable, only way they can sell anything these days, but I had already made up my mind to go here. Spring in Rio is better than summer at home, and the summer is decidedly over now, where you are never sure in the morning if you need jeans and hoodie. Here it is shorts and T-shirt every day, and the water is really nice when the waves aren't fatal. I really thought it would be colder the way the ocean looks.

As I walk along the beach in solitude I spot a gaudy, cheap beach chair also alone in the sand. I look up towards the road that goes along the beach. Sometimes there is a bunch of chairs or stuff chained together, waiting for busy days when the owner can charge a coin for a tourist to sit on it, but I don't see anything up there. I take a seat and look out over the crashing waves. There is a zen-like quality sitting on a lone chair on a vast beach, alone in a different country, watching the waves while the warm spring sun smiles down on you. No birds or animals around either, so you just have the white noise of the ocean keeping you at peace. I had fernet and coke in the lobby bar last night and evening has been going slow even before this, but somehow I felt I deserved a break from doing nothing.

I lost track of how long I was sitting there. I have all week after all. I'm taken out of my trance by someone behind me talking agitated in Spanish. No, Portuguese probably, as that's what they speak here. I turn my head and a stereotypical Brazilian beach greaser steps into my view. He wears a loose, pink tank top with Copacabana printed on the front. It reaches almost far enough to hide his green speedos that peeks out every step he takes. Brazilian tan, white teeth, black, slick hair, and a swagger that comes equally from acting macho and years of bodybuilding that prioritized looks over range of motion. "What?" I ask him, mostly just to tell him to speak English.

"This is your chair?" he asks. "Yeah," I say tentatively. At least I'm using it right now. It really was calming to look at the ocean like this. "No. No, it is not your chair," he says in an accusing tone, visibly upset. "You want to sit?" I don't need any trouble. It's soon time for lunch anyway. I start to raise myself from the chair. "No, you sit! You sit!" he almost screams at me, and I fall back into the chair.

I'm confused. Did I sit down again, or did something push me down? He steps towards me, and I again try to get out of the chair, but I'm somehow not strong enough to lift myself. He grabs the front neck of my T-shirt and pulls it up over my head. My arms do nothing to stop him. He then grabs hold of the legs of my shorts and pulls them sharply forward. Again, I can't do anything to stop him. I can move my body, sort of, but it's sapped of all strength.

If things were weird up until now, it just turned impossible. Instead of my Hanes underwear I wear black speedos with yellow print "ca-rio-ca" in front. How the fuck did they end up on me. He doesn't waste any time, but just bunches my clothes together in his hand and angrily marches off towards the road behind me. "Hey! HEY! I don't want this fucking chair." I shout at him while making another failed effort to get out of the chair as he disappears out of view. It's like being stuck with your ass in a big bean bag. I just can't get up somehow. I try to rock sideways to knock the chair on its side so I can roll out of it, but again with no success. Exhausted I fall back into the chair.

It's a cheap-looking foldable beach chair. Some green tubes as a frame with some blue and yellow nylon fabric as a seat, suspended between the tubes. I could see how someone would pick it out for its "Brazilian" colors, but all the shades were totally off compared to the flag. It couldn't be more than $10, probably much less down here. Why would anyone make such a fuss over it? I touch my magically appearing speedos. They appear completely normal. Some type of high tech stretchy fabric with yellow print on top. As I touch the print on the front of the speedos there is like a shock wave through me, like I rubbed the exposed head of my dick. I quickly move my hand back to the dainty armrests, but the damage is already done, at least for now. I can feel the blood inflating my dick, at least partially.

I look back at the ocean, trying to distract myself. I still see the surfers way off in the distance to one side, but I don't see anyone in the other. I'm a bit limited in my field of view though, reclined in the beach chair. Dammit, and I was about to have lunch. Fuck! My wallet is in the shorts. My phone, my credit cards, my cash, my hotel room key, all in the hands of some dude made of muscles and STDs. If he doesn't come back I'd have to walk back to the hotel, wearing only speedos like a fucking douche, tell the lobby staff to get my passport from the room to identify me, and issue a new key card. Then I have to take the laptop and block the credit cards and the phone SIM. I hope you can do that online. If nothing else you can call 800 numbers from Skype, I think. But first I need to get out of this fucking chair.

I make another failed attempt to get up. How can this be happening? Did he poison me somehow? Perhaps I just need to relax for a bit and regain my strength. That doesn't explain how my underwear was swapped out. Perhaps I'm making this more complicated than it has to be. These could be two unrelated events. Perhaps the speedos were somehow in my room, and somehow I put them on this morning without thinking about it. I think I've seen something similar in a store back home. "CA" could just as well mean California. This pair could have been forgotten by someone and then mixed into my laundry somehow, packed in my travel bag by mistake, and then ended up on me without me thinking about it because of the fernet. No, that doesn't make a lot of sense either. If you remove all impossible explanations, the remaining one, however improbable is the right one. It's just so very fucking improbable.

I want to drop it. Thinking about it more won't solve anything, and my current problems notwithstanding the day is still very nice. The slow burn of the spring sun, the smell of sand and salt, the soothing white noise of the ocean, and the wide visuals to go with it all. If I just let go of my predicament it was easy to relax again. That's what I needed to do, right? Just look out and feel the sun rejuvenate me. Despite it being essentially just indoor temperature, I've managed to get a tan. I trace the skin from my knees and up with my eyes. No, this is wrong. I should have tan lines where the shorts and T-shirt ended. I've only been sitting here topless for ten minutes, twenty at the most. There's nothing to tell time. The surfers are gone.

And I really shouldn't look this good sitting down. I don't sit down with a flat belly. I can't remember that I ever did, not that I really paid a lot of attention to how I looked. I try to stand up to have a better look, but only manage to lift a few inches before falling back. "Merda!" I say out loud. Not only did I fall back into the chair, but I managed to pull something. There's a cramp in the abdominal muscles that hurts like hell. I squirm in the unyielding chair and arch my back to make it stop, which results in both my legs cramping at the same time. I let go and fall back into the chair, and raise my legs up and try to shake them. I tense and relax the muscles over and over to make the feeling go away.

When it finally goes away I feel exhausted. I certainly don't want to feel that again. It's like a cosmic force doing everything to keep me in place, docile, and watching the ocean. While I want this to all be over I don't feel like I want to put up a fight. I scratch an itch on my face and feel my beard. I know I shaved less than... I know I shaved this morning, whenever that was. I've done that every morning from when I started to grow facial hair. I know nothing that looks worse. Nothing that looks more like you are taking a shortcut, or don't care. Yet I could clearly feel strands of hair all around my mouth and up the sides of my face. Not just stubble either, but fingertip length beard. The kind that doesn't look like a planned and neatly maintained beard either, but an accidental one. I didn't think I could freak out more when my hand touched the hair behind my ear, and I frantically felt the rest of my head. It was clearly a curly mess, and not just wavy but a tight curl. My hair is straight.

"Olá!" one of the two young surfers greet me. I'd been too preoccupied and had completely missed them walking across the beach towards me. They looked very similar, same height, same short cropped pitch-black hair, handsome white smiles, black and blue Mormaii wetsuit. My startled mind feels blank. I have no idea what to say to them. Somehow, inappropriately I can feel my dick stirring again. "Você quer foder?" I shout back at them. I have no idea what it means. They just keep walking, shaking their heads and ignoring me. What the fuck is going on? Can't I control myself anymore? I haven't since I sat down, I realize. This fucking chair is ruining everything.

I'm angry with it. I start hitting it. At first I'm just feebly pounding the armrests, but then work myself up to start hitting anything I can find. I'm banging the tubes, I'm pulling the synthetic fabric of the seat, I'm trying to pry the joints free. I'm only hurting myself of course, though not bad enough for any visible bruises. After some minutes someone has had enough of my tantrums and I feel a searing pain across my chest, back, and right ribs. I cry out in pain. My noise is met by the constant noise of the ocean. When it stops, just as suddenly as it started I look to either side and all I see is empty beach in both directions.

I'm almost afraid to look, and it is difficult to see well, but the skin has discolored where I felt the pain. On the right side of me is a sentence tattooed in cursive. I can't tell what it says. On my front chest is another large tattoo saying something almost as difficult to read upside down, just below my chin, also in cursive.  "Live fast, die young" I think. I can only imagine what platitudes are on my back. "Carpe Diem?"

My legs are hairy. They've been that for years, but now they are black pubes kind of hairy. Did that happen just now as well? What's with the slow walking? Just do all the things to me and be over with. Arms are hairy too. I'm not even going to be upset anymore. I'll just sit here until it ends, whatever that means. Listen to the ocean and let the sun do its thing. Holy shit, that isn't suntan. I have a different skin color for sure. No. Not upset, just listen to nature and come what may. Let the sun sparkle in the water.

I can also see a sparkle from my right nipple. I feel drained, dazed, and dumb. Did the nipple piercing come with the tattoos and I had just missed it, or did it sneak up on me somehow? I don't really care. I slowly reach for it with my left hand. It feel an explosion of sensations as soon as the vibrations of my touch reverberate into the nipple. It shoots right into my balls, into my spine, into my brain, into my dick. Not quite an orgasm, but definitely not not an orgasm. I can feel the cramp again. The muscles on my front all contracts, but this time it isn't really painful. It's more like when you exert yourself during sports.

As before I arch my back to flex the chest and abs differently to make it go away, but the cramps just spreads. I can feel it in my back as well, and my arms, then finally in my legs. It's like those youtube videos where you can see the muscles moving under the skin all on its own. I just turned to the side and rolled in the sand, unable to control anything. It wasn't pain, but definitely not not pain.

When it finally stops I'm on my back in the spring warm sand, exhausted, panting, looking into the blue sky, hearing the waves crash down at the edge of the beach. I somehow know before I see it. My arms are almost twice as muscular as this morning, my chest and abs chiseled, and my legs are massive.

The sun is getting low. It is probably getting close to dinner time, though it sets early. I sit up in the sand, looking in both directions down the beach. There's nothing but sand. I know how to walk back to the hotel, though I can't remember the name of it, and I think I know what my name is, but I'm pretty sure nothing on that passport will match me. I don't feel like going there though. I really, really need to find someone to fuck. Or be fucked by. I don't care.

[hanawrites404]

Journey

@oc-growth-and-development

(trigger warning : smoking, mention of death)

Another day, another restorative morning, as if nothing else can motivate me enough to finally cut my laze and start the new day already.

I got off my bed and my eyes instinctively gazed out the window beside me at the wall. As usual, there wasn't much outside, just the same trees and lawns you would find in any other neighbourhood, yet I never seem to get tired of looking at them over and over every time I wake up. It was like a part of my everyday morning ritual which I definitely shouldn't miss, and honestly, I was fine with it. I was not the type of person to actively look for spices in my life after all, and even if I start to crave for it someday, I just wait for it to come to me.

Otherwise, everything just gotta be restful, that's all I want, to be honest.

The water was pleasantly chill to bathe in, too, and so was the dawn's sea breeze swishing through the balcony as soon as the curtains were tucked out and the windows were pulled open. If anything warm right now, it was the brisk sun and the brimming cup of steaming café au lait thawing my bare arms and fingers as I stepped out to lean onto the grill of my terrace. My feet were bare as well, touching the cool tiles beneath them as I felt the tingling sensation through my nerves.

I was still in my pyjamas, my hair up in a bun and it was still seven. Other than some elder citizens walking outside to get the minty air rushing and stray cats and dogs yawning and stretching, the scene in front of me was almost deserted.

It all felt quiet, but it wasn't prickly. The birds were still tweeting, the bulk of leaves rustled in a shimmer, and I could even hear my sigh as I blew the hot vapour from my cup, my lips slowly savouring the coffee bit by bit. It was very peaceful, I liked it.

But unfortunately, it wasn't real.

"미스......미스.....일어나 미스!"

I jolted up from the unfamiliar voice presumably calling out for me. So it was all a dream? I wasn't enjoying a utopian morning at my balcony back in Miami?? But it all felt so real....from the taste of coffee to the warmth I felt of the drink. So it was all my imagination? Wow huh....looks like the power of my mind is going to be a mystery to me for a while. I never knew that my brain could fool me into believing that I was relaxing at my home, and not dozing off in a Korean tourist bus.

"Ugghmm...Huh?" Still groggy from my sleep, I blinked twice before looking outside the window of the bus. By the look of it, I think we had come to the final stop. Before letting out anything else from my mouth, I silently turned my gaze onto the one who broke my slumber, namely the bus conductor.

He is looking right at me. Come on, say something....!!

"U-Ummm...." I stumbled, my index slowly moving to point at the complex the bus had stopped near at.

"역???" I cringed as I tried to pronounce the exotic word. Fuck. I didn't expect my voice to crack right in front of the bus conductor. And before anyone raises a question, no. I don't know Korean. I just happened to memorize only the important words I might need to communicate during my journey to Korea. But while I was still at home I felt pretty confident in myself, what happened to me now? It wasn't unusual of me, I am a human after all and I get nervous at times too. Yet it was.... surprising.

Hmm...it must be the anxiety of being in an alien country where everything is different from what I am aware of and what I have experienced so far. Different ambience, different language, and different people. Very strange and foreign, to be frank. But fresh and young, like a bite of a ripe green apple.

Nevertheless, the conductor just laughed at me and patted my shoulder very strongly. Ouch but Woah, now I could see why he was hired as the conductor. Strong arms, sharp eyes, along with a charm of his own to make people at ease. Even to a 'lost' newcomer like me.

"Yes yes! 역! Correct! Wanna come out??" With a grin twinkling on his bright face, he stepped away to let me through. I felt more relaxed than before as soon as I heard English from him, and it was pretty fluent too.

A small relieved smile broke on my lips too as I grab hold of my guitar case and my backpack and get up. My legs had gotten a bit numb inside my boots from not moving them much throughout the ride, and my jacket was almost off my shoulders.

"감사합니다" I quickly muttered before adjusting everything on me and stepping out of the bus. I didn't want to stammer again and, even if I wasn't in a hurry, I still wanted to make sure I reach where I was called to at an early hand.

"Have a safe journey!" The conductor waved at me, and I gladly turned around to return the gesture before entering the lobby. After I had made it inside, I left my belongings at a convenient place and went to the bathroom to fix my face and clothes.

I had been travelling for almost twenty hours; An eighteen-hour flight and a two-hour bus. It was back-to-back, and hardly I had the time to refresh myself properly and smoke a bit, but now was my chance to do so before I carry on to reach my destination.

With the help of the large mirror on the wall, I first removed my contact lenses and then washed my face and combed my hair. It had grown pretty long. But I wasn't planning on cutting them any sooner. I also dusted my jacket and jeans off and straightened my t-shirt inside.

After I was sure everything had been set, I put my lenses back on and vaguely looked around the room, and finding no one except me, I quickly stand near the ventilator above me and light my cigarette. What I was doing right now poses a threat to my health and is illegal, but this was a guilty pleasure of mine. I admit it shamelessly because why not. I have nothing to lose. We all are gonna die one day, so it's better we make the most of our lives and I was just doing that. Nothing more, nothing less.

Just because I said I don't seek adventure vigorously, does not mean I don't have any thrill in my life at all. I do have it. Everyone has it. You just gotta make it interesting in your way, and that's how you gotta roll, champ.

Anyways, after a couple of puffs, I got disposed of the cigar and shooed off the smoke around me. It was only after everything seemed clear that I washed my life hands and dried them, then left the restroom and grabbed my luggage back before I started to stride again, to the reception counter.

After all the formalities were taken care of, I finally breathed the outside air of Korean afternoon. The sun was luminous and overhead, but the heat wasn't as severe as back in Miami. The number of clouds here are much more than there, or was it just for this particular day? I had no idea.

I am not a tourist here. I came here for a business trip, you can say. A man from here, a freelancing musical artist, had personally requested and invited me for a musical collaboration. The deal itself sounded quite intriguing, also with the fact that I'm half-Korean thanks to my father's lineage, yet ironically I have neither ever seen Korea with my own eyes nor I have witnessed its culture. Until today, that is.

So here I am now, strolling in the middle of the bustling city surrounded by college students touring around, laughing and talking with their classmates and munching on unique dishes and snacks I had never seen before. And while I was busy observing them, someone bumped into me, breaking my contact.

"Oh! 실례합니다!" It was a young blond guy, wearing a light blue hoodie with a couple of smiley badges pinned to his chest. He quickly bowed after apologizing and for briefly taking a glance at my face, hastily trots in the opposite direction. I eyed him, judging by his clothes and the books he was carrying in his arms, he looked like a college student. Hmm...no wonder why he was in a hurry. He must be late to class or something.

But anyway, I continued walking. That musical man had told me to wait near the back alley of a coffee shop that was close to the station. Hmm, that would be easy to locate. The coffee shop was right in front of me! Hah, how easy.

And so, without wasting any time, I ambled towards the cafè. It was a cute little shop, in my opinion. The smell of roasted coffee beans and bubbling creamy milk was evident in the atmosphere, and the colour scheme of the shop had pallettes of vanilla and caramel. It was like I had entered not a shop but inside a nestling coffee cup! Pretty cool, especially for someone who loves coffee like me.

Also, a bunch of customers were inside too. This place was not lonely at all. Some couples were on a date, singles who just want peace of mind with a complimentary cup of coffee, and business workers too! To be honest, I liked one of the employee's suits too. It was of a short brunette woman with glasses. She was kind of cute too. And by how she was still typing away rapidly on her phone even while on her break, tells how much of a busy woman she must be. Damn, God forbid that I ever be this much busy in my career.

Working even at breaks. Scary, in my opinion.

Needless to say, that wasn't why I was here for. The city was new to me so naturally, I would be curious, but business comes first in such a case. And in this case, it's my case. So bringing myself back to schedule, I leave to the back alley, waiting for that man so we could finally meet after talking through emails and phone calls.

But......what was that man's name again?

Ah....Zen.....

Hmm, weird name. But as someone who prefers to be called CJ than Catherine Joseph, I am no one to say so. Or even judge so.

Zen......I wonder what kind of person he would be in flesh. Same friendly and confident as the impression of him in my mind? Or just some different personality I never saw coming? Well, only time will tell that. But right now, we wait.

[c0ffeebee]

you got any rare kliego fic recs? i’ve probably read the first five pages of most kudos’d results but i know there are a ton that slip thru the cracks

ok, i'm sorry for replying so late, nonny, but i guess looking at the list you'll understand why ❤

i'll be honest with you once i've gotten into kliego i read through their entire tag of ao3 [at least those fics where i was ok with the tags and summary felt intriguing] so now i literally went through it again and picked those of the fics the names of which i remembered, and there's A LOT 😀 some of those are really popular, some not at all, but i remember loving those ❤

at first i thought i would tell you a bit about every fic on the list, but it would take me forever, so i will just give you titles/links, authors and summaries, hope it's fine ❤ look out for the tags tho, to know if you’re fine with everything! and some of those are benkliego ❤

i'm sure i forgot or missed something, but i did my best, trust me ❤

so without further ado i present to you: 

bee's big kliego rec list (in no particular order)

till you can breathe on your own by iwishii

Diego has never been more frightened than he is now, trying to help his brother reach the surface in time.

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practice makes perfect by iwishii

Klaus doesn't want to show up to parties totally inexperienced and virginal, so he asks Diego to help him get some practice in.

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master of my domain by achilleees

“You’re asking five 13-year-old boys not to jerk off for – it can’t be done,” Luther says. “Now that we’re older, it would be different, but back then –”

“Excuse me, I could do it,” Five says. “I could certainly outlast all of you.”

They all look at each other.

“Oh, no,” says Allison.

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the year that wasn't by achilleees

Diego turned to Five. “I’ve already, uh, lived today. This has already happened.”

Everyone went still.

“Ooh, that’s a mind-fuck,” said Klaus.

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The Weight of Himself by sarkywoman

If he could, Diego would unfurl his middle finger.

For the 'can only move the eyes' square at badthingshappenbingo. Reginald's experiments have devastating consequences on Diego, but both he and Klaus refuse to let that be the end.

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Laid Bare by MilenaDaniels

“So,” Five continued matter-of-factly, “you’re in a cramped, human sized box, in a graveyard where you can’t see light or hear sounds. What are the odds that you’re above ground?”

Diego blinked. He thought he’d been smelling the iron of his blood pooling and drying under his head but it was humid in here, and musty.

“Fuck,” Diego said.

Diego and Klaus are buried alive together.

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Flies in the Kitchen by yourfearlessleader

Klaus is sixteen and love is a rot.

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Before, During, and After by yourfearlessleader

Before the apocalypse, life was making the best of a bad situation, and Klaus found that he grew up to be very good at it.

During is, for lack of a better word, hard.

After they try to kill Vanya, after the apocalypse, after they jump through time to avoid it, after they survive and make up and a million and one other things, here they are.

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break it like you're breaking a code by findyourfortunefalling

"Are you planning to sit in a chair like a person today, or are we all eating our breakfast off of you this morning?"

"Kinky," Klaus purrs, but he rolls off the table anyway, and piles himself into a seat near the head of the table. Diego puts the plate of pancakes in front of him; he's put blueberries in them today. "Thank you, chef."

"Eat," says Diego. "Quietly."

Instead of replying, Klaus picks up a pancake with his fingers, stuffs the entire thing into his mouth at once, and chews noisily.

Diego sighs, and goes back to the stove. "Man, I remember a time when you were house trained."

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two boys emerging from shadowed hallways by spikeymarshmallows

After Ben dies, Diego drags a broken Klaus out of the Academy. They're both determined to never return, to find their own way out in the world.

Things are not as easy as they would like.

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the things i can't say by  spikeymarshmallows

"Diego, wait!" Klaus shouted, clutching Diego's arm.

"You look like Antonio Banderas with long hair," he choked.

*

Five times Klaus doesn't say 'I love you'.

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Into the Night by  spikeymarshmallows

"Hey," Klaus whispered, "hey, Diego, wake up." Diego grumbled, dragging his blanket higher up his body before settling again. "Hey." Klaus tried again, voice a little louder. "Hey, wake up." He poked at Diego's arm insistently.

*

The Hargreeves siblings go on late night adventure to get doughnuts

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all tangled close by spikeymarshmallows

They were all going to have to deal with the pheromones for however long Klaus' first heat lasted.

Diego was, in a word, screwed.

*

Five times Diego and Klaus have heat sex; and one time they don't.

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the kliego genderswap/sexswap by spikeymarshmallows

The name speaks for itself.

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The Fools' Journey by sweetstuff

After his release from prison on a manslaughter charge, Diego tries to leave behind the life he adapted to survive on the inside. He finds himself drawn to a beautiful and peculiar sex worker named Klaus in a local bar, and when danger strikes Diego makes a decision that will have them both running for their lives.

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and death i think is no parenthesis by laiqualaurelote

“You guys seem really chill about all this,” observed Ben. “By this point most people are running around screaming.”

“Occupational hazard,” said Klaus.

“I’ve lost a lot of blood,” said Diego. “I’m just accepting everything at face value right now.”

Allison is the best damn realtor in the business, and she is going to sell the Hargreeves Mansion if it kills her. Never mind that it’s packed to the rafters with the ghastly relics of grisly murders, or that there’s a vampire in the basement who looks like a 13-year-old, or that the medium she hired to exorcise its inhabitants keeps flirting with some of them, i.e. the one with the knives and the one with the tentacles. Or that if they all spend enough time together, they just might cause the apocalypse.

NotSiblings!AU that is basically The Umbrella Academy as American Horror Story: Murder House, though you need not have seen any AHS to read this.

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i got troubles (they won't let me be) by antipathy

“I don’t understand why you’re hung up on this.” Five didn’t bother to mask his scowl. “Let me spell it out for you: either you two fuck, or we all die.”

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Eye Of The Storm by shadowhive

Diego decides to surprises Klaus by taking them on a weekend trip, but it doesn’t go as planned.

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Mine, All Mine by Electra_XT

“No!” Klaus said. “Move the other way.”

“What are you trying to get a good look at, exactly?” Diego said.

Klaus blinked at him. His eyes were wide and kohl-rimmed, as fetching and alluring as the rest of him. “Why, your ass,” he said. “That thing is fine.”

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On Sight by Electra_XT

“Oh,” Klaus said, stopping in his tracks with his hand on the mouse.

Ben leaned over his shoulder. “‘Cute Latino camboy gives a show’?”

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Practice Makes Perfect Sense by punk_rock_yuppie

“Practice… kissing?” Diego asks.

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Aftershocks by punk_rock_yuppie

Saving the world is hard work, is Klaus’ last thought before succumbing to the heat of the puppy pile he and his other siblings have formed.

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Passenger by Cunninglinguist

“And you’re sure that’s okay?”

“I mean, yeah. It’s fine with me. All we have to do is ask Diego.”

“And you think he’ll be...cool with it?”

“Dunno.” Klaus shrugs and stirs his smoothie with his straw. “But I’m on board with it, and he usually gets on board with whatever I’m on board with, so. I’d say it’s at least worth an ask.”

Klaus feels Ben’s eyes burning into him as he sips his beverage. Sure, the idea of Ben possessing him had initially been about as appealing as a coffee enema, and the first few times in practice had been more than slightly traumatizing. But once they’d established ground rules and worked to get more in tune with one another, Klaus had come to find the experience to be...interesting. It could be pleasant, almost zen—there is no sensation in the world quite like being a passenger in one's own body. And to be privy to both his own sensations as well as Ben’s? Well, that’s something else entirely.

Which is why the idea of Ben possessing his body during sex both freaks him out and turns him on in equal measure.

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i am a dark and wicked thing by Cunninglinguist

Klaus is staring at Diego with hollow eyes, straw still perched between his lips. No reaction, not even a spark of joy or schadenfreude as he watches Diego disrupt breakfast. Diego shifts. He’s seen corpses before, and were Klaus not sitting close enough to touch, chest rising and falling visibly with his breath, Diego could easily mistake him for one.

Vampire!Klaus AU

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The Diamond Sinners by Cunninglinguist

Another drink and a half later, he’s finally back on the right side of numb. The house lights dim and a new dancer is announced. He’s gazing across the club, eyeing the buffet with semi-tipsy hunger, thinking that it’s probably time to call it a night, when suddenly, his heart stops dead in his chest.

There, onstage, rolling his lithe body sensuously against the pole like he was summoned out of one of Diego’s wet dreams, is Klaus.

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Broken Like Me by Starrstruck_64

“This s-s-stuff will kill you,” he says plucking the cigarette out of Klaus’ fingers, delighting slightly in the fact that he’d only partially stumbled through the sentence.

Klaus smirks and it’s such a far cry from his fun loving brother he had two weeks ago that Diego nearly flinches.

“Ever stop and think that’s the plan,” Klaus says moving to stand and reaching to snag the cigarette back.

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sing it out, hard as you can by plingo_kat

The first time it happens, Klaus doesn’t notice.

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Soft by Dirty_Corza

Sometimes, between the boxing matches and vigilante business, Diego likes to be soft.

Klaus and Ben surprise him by liking the softer side of him, too.

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Wait for it by nishiki

A mission gone wrong, a dream shattered.

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all that i have to lose by UnrememberedSkies

Diego does some good, and Klaus pays the price. 

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wasp by Chelseylovesllamas

Diego is scared of bugs, Klaus saves the day.

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Friday at Four by Kliegology

Diego's life takes a nosedive when he's forced out of work and into an art therapy class. He's clinging to his last shred of normality when he meets Klaus, who takes one look at him and threatens to tear it away.

“I think you’ll find you have a lot in common with the other people there,” The Therapist said, watching him shrewdly.

Diego was vividly reminded of the jittery, barefoot man in the pink fluffy cardigan. He snorted. “I don’t think so.”

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[saeyoungs-sunflower]

Can you write the whole RFA of its not to difficult please. If that is to hard can you do Jumin, Zen, and Jaehee please. For an S/O who flinches at quick movement around them like they will get hit. No one had ever hit on purpose it’s just an instinct from having high anxiety. I do that personally and it drives my family nuts. If I could control it I would.

Hello! Thank you for your request, lovely anon. I understand how you feel, I’m the same with loud noises. Honestly I bug could fly past my ear and I’ll jump three feet in the air no joke hahaha. I decided to write these as scenarios as it just seemed more appropriate, I hope they’re okay!

***

RFA with an MC who flinches easily

Yoosung:

“Yoosung, I did it! I passed!”

You came bursting through the door and Yoosung sprung out of his chair, almost tripping over it in his haste to get to you. Your eyes were beaming as you held the exam paper that you were convinced you had failed, and Yoosung’s heart melted and relief washed over him.

You had studied day and night for that exam, and Yoosung had to tell you to go to take it easy on more than one occasion. He understood how important this exam was for you, of course he did. He was also a college student, after all. But you had been losing your spark and it tore him apart from the inside out to see your light dim.

But boy the spark was back, and it was roaring. You both sat at his dining table as he scanned over the document, his mouth dropping over one particular section.

You had got an A.

You didn’t just pass, you got the highest grade and he thought he was going to combust with pride. That’s his girl.

“MC! This is absolutely amazing! You’re incredible,” he cried, raising his arm up swiftly for a high five.

The arm dropped just as quickly when he saw you flinch away from him.

His mind instantly started racing, his blood boiling. Who the fuck had hit you? Who made you so afraid of an innocent high five?  He was going to kill-

“Yoosung, it’s okay! I’m sorry, I didn't mean to do that, it’s just an instinct. You know how I’m always getting spooked by stupid things, it’s like that. Please don't worry, I’m fine.”

You continued to explain and he eventually he understood, and also made a note to try and find more calm ways of expressing his excitement with you. He couldn't bare the thought of you being afraid around him.

Jaehee:

You and Jaehee were cleaning up the dishes after breakfast whilst discussing your plans for the day. It had been the first nice day in weeks, and you both knew you had to do something, go out somewhere. But the problem was, you had been at home for so long that you couldn't decide on where to go.

The weather didn't look great for the following weeks either, so you wanted to do something special, but nothing sprung to mind. A crease formed between Jaehee’s eyebrows as she considered the options intently. Cinema, park, shopping-

Then she had a light-bulb moment.

She was so overcome with excitement that she span around to face you quickly enough that she almost missed how you jumped and turned your face away from her.

But she didn't miss it.

Jaehee’s eyes instantly widened as she started to apologise, but you were very quick to turn it down and explained that you were just always on edge due to your anxiety. It was nothing she or anyone else had done, it was just the way you were.

New plan: spa day.

Jaehee felt that you probably needed a relaxing day, and tried to make it a regular thing for you both in the hopes it would ease your nerves.

Zen:

You and Zen were walking hand-in-hand through the local park, arms swaying slightly as you observed the scenes around you. It was a gorgeous day, and it was strangely nice to see the usually desolate park brimming with energy.

A young boy coyly approached you two, a notebook and pen in hand. He had scuffed up knees and a bandaid on his elbow, and he couldn't bring himself to make eye contact as you both smiled kindly at him, encouraging him to continue.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Mr Zen…sir, but um…if you wouldn't mind please could sign my notebook? But if you’re too busy I completely understand-!”

Zen chuckled fondly at him, “Don’t be silly, of course I can! What’s your name, buddy?”

You and Zen exchanged looks, a silent conversation that only the two of you could understand. You gave him some space to have a proper conversation with the boy, whilst you went to pet a dog you had spotted moments before.

After the boy had ran back to his mother, a note from Zen in his hand and a grin on his face, Zen noticed a tennis ball on the floor. Picking it up he scanned the park, but couldn't find a notable owner. However, he did see you approaching, waving excitedly.

He couldn't help but smile at you, and a little idea popped into his mind.

“Hey, MC, catch!”

Before you had time to process what he said, Zen threw the ball in your direction. Instinctively, you coiled away and hid your face, a gasp escaping your lips. Luckily, the ball fell just in front of you.

To some, you may have just seemed dramatic or pathetic, but Zen knew you better than that. He was by your side in a flash, “Oh my God, MC I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking I just-“

“No, Zen it’s okay! You don't need to apologise, you haven't done anything wrong. I've always been like that, it’s just a weird response I’ve developed. You really don't need to worry.”

He listened carefully whilst you told him more, but still felt bad so he bought you ice cream and promised to give you a heads up next time.

Jumin:

Sitting opposite each other on his balcony, you and and Jumin enjoyed a quiet breakfast in the sun. It was his day off, so you both decided to have a slow, easy-going morning. You both had lie-in and cuddled before eventually dragging yourselves out of bed, both your rumbling stomachs indicating that it was probably time to start the day.

Jumin made pancakes, of course, whilst you cut fruit and made tea for the both of you. The quietness between the both of you was comfortable and pleasant, setting the perfect mood for Jumin’s well needed day off.

Jumin felt perfectly tranquil as he watched your face as you looked over the city, eyes darting from building to building. He found you truly fascinating, and always wondered how you found beauty and wonder in everything you saw.

As he watched you he noticed a fly buzzing around your head, which you hadn't seemed to have acknowledged yet. He didn't want it to break you out of your trance, so he took matters into his own and went to swat the bug away. However, you snapped out of it as he went to do so and instantly covered your face with a small yelp.

Jumin halted, his arm still in the air. The only thing that was racing through his head was confusion, mixed with concern, “My love? What is it?”

You let out a small sigh, the tips of your ears turning a subtle rose colour, “Oh, it’s nothing…Sorry, I couldn't help it. I just panicked for a moment-“

Now it was time for Jumin’s heart rate to pick up, “My God, MC I would never-“

“No no Jumin I know you wouldn’t, you've never done anything to make me believe you would either. It was just instinct, it’s because of my anxiety…”

Whilst he understood, Jumin was still concerned. Was your anxiety really so extreme that you were even on edge when he was there?

You continued your quiet day in, but Jumin also suggested that you talk to a professional about your anxiety. There was a limit to how safe he could make you feel on his own, and he hated thinking that you felt the need to be prepared for the worst at any given moment.

Saeyoung:

“Saeyoung, I’m home.”

Saeyoung heard you toss your keys on the kitchen table and the front door click shut. He knew your routine now: you would then hang your coat up, kick your shoes off, go to the bedroom, find a hoodie or sweatshirt of his, put it on and then find him to kiss him hello.

Once you had put on your hoodie of choice, you called out to him but he was nowhere to be seen. You assumed he had gone out to the store down the road, so you decided to sit in the living room and wait for him to get back.

Except, Saeyoung was in the house. He was just hiding.

He had tucked himself behind the door of the living room, preparing to pounce at you the moment you walked in. He had an incredibly boring and frustrating day without you, so he wanted to have a little fun when he finally had you to himself.

He heard your soft footsteps grow louder as you padded towards where he was. As soon as he caught a glimpse of your form, he lunged towards you with a loud “RAR”. He aimed to wrap his arms round you and laugh with you, but he was in for a surprise when he found you on the floor. Your face was buried in the crook of your elbow, your other arm held up in the air defensively.

Saeyoung dropped to floor beside you, carefully reaching his arm out for you, “MC, it’s me! It’s Saeyoung, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you this much. Are you okay?”

You slowly recovered from the ordeal, letting out a chuckle as Saeyoung apologised profusely in a panic. You gently shushed him, “Saeyoung, Saeyoung, it’s fine. Sae-SAEYOUNG,” you finally caught his attention, laughing again at the worry written all over his face. You knew he meant no harm.

“I’m absolutely fine, I promise. I’m just constantly on high-alert, I’ve been like that since I was little. I know you were just having fun, and I know you would never hurt me, so don't look so concerned you silly tomato,” you said with a small smile and a wink.

Jumpscaring then became a Saeran-only-prank.

V:

You and V often enjoyed to paint together when you had a free afternoon. You both had your own set ups in the living room, two easels stood proudly next to the large window that overlooked your well-kept garden.

Today, V finished his painting before you, and glanced over to find you lost in concentration, your eyebrows knitting together and your teeth gnawing on your bottom lip.

V’s chest bubbled with adoration as he studied your features, noting every small quirk and mannerism of yours. He quickly decided he wanted to sketch you like this, even if it was quick and rough, he just wanted to capture this moment in the hopes that one day you would see it and see yourself through his eyes.

He was about halfway through his sketch when he glanced up again, noticing that you had picked up the pace and were painting more rapidly, more expressively than before. The way you moved so swiftly and gracefully left him in awe, but he also saw how you misjudged one movement in your concentration, knocking the glass of paint-water with your elbow.

V clocked it before it started to tilt off the side of the table, moving to catch it easily before it could hit the floor. However, his movement was so rapid that you couldn't control the way you flinched away from him or the yelp that escaped your lips.

Before you even had time to explain, V was spurting out apology after apology, and you even noticed the glisten of unshed tears that started to fill his eyes.

“Oh my God, MC, if I’ve ever done anything to make you think I would…I’m so sorry, please, I would never even think about-“

“Oh Jihyun, of course you haven't done anything, and of course I know that you wouldn’t. You’ve been nothing but kind and gentle towards me. This is just something that I picked up when I was young, nobody knows why, it’s absolutely not your fault. In fact, it’s happened so much less since I’ve been with you, so if anything you've helped me.”

The poor man was still pretty shaken up after that, but he could see where you were coming from. He was pretty jumpy himself, to be honest, so he made an effort to make your shared home as tranquil as he could after that day,

He also suggested meditation, which actually ended up helping you both a little bit.

Saeran:

Arguments weren't uncommon for the two of you, and you actually knew to expect that before you became a couple. He’d spent most of his life not having his own voice, so it was natural that he wasn't practised in expressing his wants and needs in the best way all the time. You helped him with this, and he improved very quickly.

Today’s argument was a tad more heated though.

You both had a rough day, so your tolerance for each other was particularly low. He was angry because you had spent the day with Zen, and you were angry because the reason you were with Zen was because he had hit a rough patch in his career and needed support. Basically, he was upset because he couldn't see you, and you were upset because he was upset. You were also upset because you seeing your friends struggle and hurt had its toll on you, and all you needed right now was your boyfriend’s affection and support. But instead, he was yelling at you which only raised your anxiety-level.

Your own anxiety was not something you had discussed with him, since Saeran had only recently recovered and you didn’t want him to have something else to worry about. You knew he needed to know, Saeyoung told you so too, but you just never found a good time to bring it up.

But now it was coming back to bite you in the ass.

Saeran still found it hard to control his emotions, and sometimes said things he didn’t mean when he got especially worked up, like today. His voice rose higher and higher, until something in him snapped.

“If you care about him so much why don’t you just go be his girlfriend instead,” he growled, throwing his arm to point at the door behind you.

The scream ripped through apartment as you crouched on the floor, hugging yourself with one arm and shielding yourself with the other.

Saeran was frozen in place as he looked down at your crumpled form, completely paralysed by your reaction. Saeyoung rushed into the room and was by your side in an instant, having clearly been listening to your argument and readying himself to intervene should things escalate. Which, apparently they did.

Finally understanding the situation, Saeran forcefully tried to swallow the lump forming in his throat, “Jesus Christ, MC. I didn’t…I wouldn’t…I’m sorry I-“

“Saeran, it’s okay. I know you weren't going to hit me. I just…it’s hard to explain.”

“Please — if you don't mind —please explain. I…I want to understand, I want to help…”

You agreed and all three of you sat together on the couch, though Saeran was suddenly aware of his every movement.

You reassured him, he apologised. You both explained properly why you were upset in the first place. You both understood each other.

It was a horrible situation for you both, but you were both stronger for it.

***

I’m sorry if these are all a bit similar, but I hope they were what you were looking for! Take care anon and thank you again for the request! <33

Masterlist

[tiesandtea]

Mr. Lazy – fanzine interview with Alan Fisher, December 2004

intrepid suede globetrotters elina and sirje conducted this interview with alan fisher, the man about whom songs like "lazy", "high rising", "beautiful loser" and, according to the man himself, "the most of the others as well" have been written. (editor's note: not to suggest that alcohol played any part in this q&a session, but it did take place in alan's local. oh, and in other locations in the uk, plus morocco & finland, in both oral & written forms. anyway, surely worth all the so-called trouble.) no animals, be they cats or terrapins, were harmed during this interview, but a considerable amount of wine bottles did get destroyed.

how long have you known brett? where did you grow up?

i have known brett since i was 16/17 – near on 20 years now. i grew up in sussex, near haywards heath.

how does it feel that so many of brett’s lyrics are about you? (did you ever get the feeling that brett was just kind of observing you or waiting around for you to do something flamboyant so that he could write about it?)

it’s very flattering to know that some lyrics are about me. however i was never aware of brett observing me purposely to get lyrics or ideas for songs. it’s funny because there are so many songs that are very personal to me, and you think some part of the song is about you, and they are not. over the years many friends who have been in close contact with brett and the music think that songs are about them, because of various lyrical content. i think brett has ability to take elements from friends’ lives or chapters and create a story blended together, a fusion of characters in one song. i remember when i heard “the big time” and the last line – “now we’re in the big time and you’re in the way” i was extremely put out, i took it very personally. i thought it referred to me, but luckily it didn’t. however i’m pleased to say that my favourite song has to be “lazy”. the original version i think went like this – “here they come with their make up on as lovely as the birds come and see them” which i think is very beautiful. which changed to “here they come gone 7 am bla bla bla”, which was about being up all night, then putting on make up so as to hide the effects of being on a bender, and going down to off-license to buy cornflakes and bottles of red wine.

what was the best experience traveling with suede? (what happened in las vegas?)

difficult question, as i’ve had many amazing experiences on tour with suede. two very contrasting escapades were one journey in japan, and one on the west coast of america. brett and myself had the fortunate experience of visiting a buddhist temple in japan called the “moss gardens”. we visited a temple that was so beautiful and peaceful, and the entire gardens were immersed in moss with beautiful ponds and waterfalls. we sat in the temple and wrote a mantra admist buddhist chanting, which i believe influenced the song “introducing the band”. the other experience was a trip to la, san francisco and las vegas. i seem to remember i hadn’t been to bed for a few days, and when i was there i didn’t sleep much for various reasons. we stayed at a friend’s house in beverly hills called michiko, a house of pure opulence, with plenty of alcohol and other fineries. i seem to remember that towards the end (in vegas) brett wouldn’t let me sleep – just more alcohol. and i think that when i went to bed brett checked to make sure i was alive.

what will/do you miss the most about suede?

the thing i miss the most about suede is being around when a great song is created. i’d come home and brett would say “i’ve got it.”, some missing song on the album and consequently we would stay up night after night listening to the same song over and over – the poor neighbours.

at what part of his career was brett at his happiest?

when he was writing happy songs. actually i don’t think brett ever made happy songs. only joking! i don’t know when brett was actually the happiest. i think maybe when the band first started and the first album came out, that’s when he realised his dreams were coming true.

has brett being famous ever bothered you?

brett being famous has never bothered me; in fact it’s been quite a relief; it’s taken the limelight away from me.

fame can and has certainly changed many people who obtain it. how do you think it's affected brett over the years? has it affected your friendship?

i don’t think fame has changed brett’s fundamental characteristics, obviously it has shaped his life aspects like walking down the street, or having a drink in pub. i think living with me for so long has definitely fucked him up.

is there a lot of divergence between brett's public persona and the man underneath it all?

not really. he’s the same complex, passionate and artistic character at home and on stage, i don’t know about the bedroom though!!

how were the new band members really welcomed?

some dreadful, unmentionable initiation ceremonies.

was brett & bernard getting back together a surprise for you? how do you like the new material? how about brett’s solo material?

not really; they had a magic chemistry together that never really fulfilled its potential. and the new stuff is absolutely great! wait and see!!

what's all this about brett meditating? it was mentioned in the love & poison book.

i haven’t actually read love & poison, which is extremely lame of me, eventually i will. however, i think brett has some interest in meditating, maybe from visiting japan’s buddhist temples and being influenced by their way of living, zen and all that.

is brett good at pub quizzes?

brett, i could imagine, is very good at pub quizzes if he entered them. they have a quiz at our local pub, i think brett and mat osman entered once, and came a very admirable second place, which is no mean feat, because it’s a very professional affair in that establishment.

have there been times when brett did something you wish he hadn't? musical decisions or anything.

i can’t think of anything that resembles a mistake or regret in terms of musical direction. over the years, artists are faced with monumental decisions to make in terms of artistic development; single releases; band commitment and general themes for the forthcoming albums. however, i think brett has the ability to listen to other people’s opinions as well as his own, to come up with the best viable decision. considering the turbulent times of drug taking and various band members coming and going, i don’t think he’s done too badly.

how posh is brett?

how posh is brett – what a strange question – in fact the hardest one i’ve ever been asked! – not at all. crikey, well for somebody that came from a council house and bought second hand records/clothes. he now drinks tea at 4 o’clock in proper bone china tea cups – doesn’t get any posher than that. oh! and he has a butler called jessica rabbit.

does he watch sports on tv?

well it has to be football, brett hates posh sports like cricket & rugby (un)like me. he is very obsessive over the england football team, ipswich and manchester united (because that’s my team, and i always cry when they lose).

what's brett's best quality?

brett’s best quality is having good taste in friends and good taste in music, i.e., suede.

and his worst?

i can’t think of his worst qualities, but i remember the worst thing living with him, he would always become too comfortable on the sofa which would mean i would have to rewind the suede demos and go out and get another bottle of wine from the off-license.

we're sorry this is all about suede/brett... when we start an alan fanzine we’ll interview you about yourself... ok?

ok.

tell us a secret

my favourite colour is black.

how much do suede lie in the interviews? (if you read them)

i’m too busy to read suede interviews, i’ve got my own press cuttings to examine.

what do you think brett would have become without suede?

i’m sure it would have only been with some musical compaction. however, our living arrangements would have resembled something out of “the servant”.

what about you? how much has suede affected you?

suede were the most important thing in my life. as my girlfriend just put it a moment ago whilst i was writing this, it’s like going out with three people: her, me and suede. as i tell her, it could have been worse: i could have been friends with ronan keating.

do you love us? what do you think of suede fans in general? a lovely bunch on whole, or have you had some harrowing experiences with obsessed loonies?

well, i’m a suede fan myself, so i would have to say they are great. obsessed loonies? i am one; i have been stalking brett for 20 years, but he doesn’t realise.

there are lots of mentions of yours and brett's drug use in l&p. is this an accurate characterization of the state of affairs or did it get glammed up a bit for press?

it’s all a myth, i once smoked a joint with brett, it was really far out man! oh, and i snorted some glue at a dinner party once, it was so chic.

tell us something about suede that we don't know.

they are a figment of your imagination!!

tell us something about brett that we don't know.

i know something extremely juicy, real top gossip. but you’re going to have to wait to see whether he meets my blackmail demands.

if you were an animal, what kind of animal would he be? what kind of animal would brett be?

brett refers to me as an electrocuted rabbit, something similar to the mad hatter in alice in wonderland. i think brett would be a very feline cat.

speaking of cats, they tend to go missing, don’t they?

we had a cat called meisk – when brett was on tour it went missing. when i found it on the street, i thought it had a cold because it had a funny meow – it turned out to be the wrong cat. i remember brett was extremely pissed off. we had another cat called sphinx that was an incredibly lively character, it had a long run up – then produced its claws and wham!!

have you ever been arrested?

yes! on several occasions, on suspicion of being sinister and bad influence on society.

dave thompson’s yet-to-be-published suede-book, an armchair guide to suede, includes this: 

"‘young men’ developed out of lyrics written for a joke band, the bruisers, that anderson, his flatmate alan and a hairdresser friend named gary hatched one evening;"

can you tell us anything more about this?

after one crazy night early in the morning we had this inspiration to form a band based on idea of national front skinheads with the title song “british bulldog”. brett and gary were both very amusing and inventive with songs like “santa ain’t a wanker” etc.

besides that, have you ever been musically inclined or in a band yourself?

after hearing brett playing an instrument called the melodica, something like a mouth organ with a pipe attached to it, waking me every morning, it put me off music for life.

what other music are you into besides suede?

sigue sigue sputnik and mozart.

have you and brett ever had a fist fight? have you ever fought over who does the shopping or cleans the toilet or whose dirty plates are in the sink?

we have never had a fist fight in 20 years. however, we once had a duel at sunrise over who was the vainest.

that’s it then. say something nice. or mean. whatever you like. thanks!

stop asking me questions about brett, and more about myself!

Source: Pornographic & Tragic, the official Suede fanzine, issue 2 (December 2004).

[cafedanslanuit]

Hello! I’m not sure if you’re taking requests right now but is it okay if I request how RFA will react when they find out MC hides about her depression and anxiety because she doesn’t want them to think she’s crazy? I’m going through a lot at the moment and reading these helps me a lot. I’m sorry if this is triggering T-T and thank you in advance

I really hope you’re feeling better. Take it one day at a time and talk it out with someone you trust, it really helps.

Yoosung

Yoosung had always been messy and will always be messy

You usually don’t care too much but lately it’s been getting on your nerves

The last drop is when you find the knives in the napkins drawer

You know it’s not that big of a deal but it’s been happening and lot and these days you just can’t bear with it

You start crying and feel you can’t breathe properly anymore

Yoosung is fucking scared

“Please!! Please, leave everything where it belongs, I– I can’t and…”

“But MC, I didn’t know it bothered you so much, I’m sorry, I–”

“No, Yoosung, I’m tired, I just want a clean place I want everything in its place and I just want the changes to stop, I want it to stop, everything to stop”

He’s not the brightest, but he soon realises you’re upset about something else

Softly he moves forward and starts putting everything in its place. He doesn’t know why it bothers you, but he knows it will make you feel better

You start feeling better, but soon realize you’ve yelled at your boyfriend

You don’t know how to say sorry

“Wanna watch a movie?” he suggests, pretending nothing happened. You joined him and cuddled up on the couch

By the end of the movie, Yoosung pauses it and kisses your cheek

“Are you okay?”

You really don’t want to say anything. You haven’t talked about it with anymore yet.

“I don’t know. I… there’s been too many changes lately. I changed majors and now I’m living here for a while and also that thing with my mom and… I don’t know, I just want something to be the same. I need some order in my life”

He nods and puts his arms around you

“I’ll do my best” he promises “But please know it will go away. You’ll feel better. I never thought I would be able to laugh out loud again and then I met you. You just need some time to adapt”

How can your boyfriend be so lovely

A+

You put on another movie and cuddle up again. This definitely makes you feel better

Zen

He’s the one that will stay up late talking it out with you

He knows what’s like having a hard childhood and it sometimes comes back to him

So it’s not rare for either of you to stay up late on the sofa talking endlessly

You were surprised how easy it was to talk about what made you insecure with him

At first, you didn’t want to share you personal things and Zen could tell. It didn’t matter how he asked you to tell him what was wrong

So then, he tried telling you about his childhood, about the neglect he felt from his parents and brother

And then, telling you about the days when everything seems a little bit grayer became easier

He would pour tea for the both of you and rub your legs while you talked about something that troubled you

He also found it was easier for you to talk about it when he let you play with his hair

He never let anyone do that, but if it made you feel better, he would try it all

When the topic was about being insecure, he would cover your face with kisses, rejoicing in the sound of your laughter

He would braid your hair and you loved it

He had asked the hairdresser at the play he was on to teach him a couple of braids

Sometimes you thought he wanted to initiate sex, but when it came to making you feel better, he would only stick to soft, small kisses on your face, shoulders and hands.

He would tell you over and over how perfect and how lucky he is to have you in his life.

Jaehee

Jaehee hadn’t noticed until she saw a small blood stain on the pillow

She hadn’t cut herself and neither of you were on your period, so it didn’t make sense

She asks you what it could be but you shrug it off

She let it pass, but it had been three days finding different blood stains and she was running out of fresh pillow cases

So she stays up one night, trying to figure out what’s going on

That’s when she sees you biting your nails.

You fall asleep a while later and your girlfriend sees you grabbing the pillow, completely unknowingly.

So the next day after work, she says she wants to talk

She starts telling you about her past

Jaehee had had anxiety episodes in the past but with the help of her psychologist, she was better

Yes, you were surprised when you heard that becaase Jaehee was always incredibly busy, how did she manage to find the time for therapy?

She told you about her panic attacks and how bad they were

So the therapist didn’t became an option, it became to only way out

She still goes once a week for a 40 minute session on work time

Jumin said he needed to have Jaehee available at all times, so if she needed therapy to be the best assistant she could be, so be it.

C&R insurance was great

You’re a nail biter when you’re anxious

So she will take your hand while you’re watching movies to help you relax and try to find comfort in other things rather than your habit

She’s not the best at talking about feelings but will definitely do her best to hear you out

Anytime, any day, anywhere

She wants you to know you can depend on her

Jumin

“Hello, darling”  you greet Jumin when he returns to the penthouse after work.

It used to be exhilarating for him when you welcomed him home. It felt like you were already married

But lately, he can see you forcing your smile

An it breaks him

He thinks maybe you’re too tired of organising your wedding. You have meetings all day long and have to deal with lots of people yourself

He offers hiring a wedding planner, but you decline. You tell him you can do this.

One night, after changing into his pajamas, he went to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of wine. He saw you walking around the living room, looking for something desperately.

“What are you searching for, love?” he asked

You didn’t answer

He tried asking again and you finally face him. You face is red, your eyes wide open, your hair messier than usual

You tell him you can’t find some documents for the venue. You just had them that afternoon and you can’t find them anymore.

Jumin started looking for them with you but it’s hopeless

“What documents exactly? I’m sure they have a copy and we can get them to send them again so you c–”

He stopped himself when he saw you crying

“Please, let me hire a planner. You’re too tired, it’s devastating to see you like this. Please, MC. We can even have interviews so you pick them”

You shook your head. He embraced you softly, afraid you’ll reject him. But you scooted closer to him, trying to concentrate in the smell of his cologne.

“MC, please. I can’t stand watching you like this everyday”.

“I need to do this, Jumin. I need to. I– I need to focus on this because I don’t want to– I don’t want to start thinking again, I can’t”

“Think about what?”

“I feel so awful about myself lately. I– I don’t know why this happens, I don’t know why I feel the need to disappear but it’s hapenning again so close, so fucking close to our wedding and I thought– I though if I was busy taking care of it I would be too tired to think about it, about how I’m feeling but I can’t, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I lost the document and I keep messing this up so much I can’t, I cant”

You were crying even more than before.

Jumin isn’t the best handling feelings or talking about them, so he just hugged you tightly, trying to tell you it’s safe to open up. You’re safe now that he’s there.

You stayed there a couple of minutes and then he took you to the bathroom. You sat on the toiler lid and saw him preparing a bath. He checks the temperature and then places a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Take your time. I’ll be waiting for you in your bedroom”.

You were staying in the guest’s bedroom until you were married. He had tried giving you the suite but you declined.

Jumin went there, sat on the bed and waited for you.

Half an hour later, you entered the bedroom wearing a fluffy white robe.

He helped you get on the bed and laid by your side, his arms around your body, trying his best to make you feel safe.

“I’m in love with you, MC. I think you’re the best woman I’ll ever meet. I still don’t get how I got so lucky, but I thank whoever put you in my path, because I can’t wait to make you my wife. So please, I’m begging you. Don’t be so hard on the woman I love” he said softly, and kissed the back of your head. “Whenever you’re ready to talk, I’m there. Just call me. Anyday, anytime”.

You intertwined your fingers with his and nodded.

Maybe the next day he could offer a consult with a psychologist so you can talk about whatever is troubling you so much.

But that night, he just wanted to hold you close.

Saeyoung

Oh boy, he knows how bad it can get

In fact he knows how to tell if it’s getting bad again for you

It starts small

It’s a day you don’t eat lunch because you were too busy

But he doesn’t see you anything else to make up for it

Or those night he stays up working and sees you relentlessly turning around in your bed, unable to fall asleep

Or when you’re watching a movie together and you cry when something bad happens

You usually cry with sad movies, yes, but he can tell when it seems you can’t stop crying and he just knows it’s not about the movie anymore

He knows he can’t help, there isn’t a button he can press to fix you

So he really tries

He knows it feels

When he sees you can’t fall asleep, he gets into bed with you. He would wrap you with his arms and pull you close. He would whisper sweet nonsense to your ear and kiss your head and shoulders to make you smile again.

He noticed you fell asleep faster when you were with him

So he did his best to change his schedule so he can work in the morning and cuddle you at night

He fails, because sometimes, after you fall asleep, he goes back to work

But you still love him for trying

He knows when your episode is going away too

You start falling asleep faster and eating snacks between meals

He knows you’ve never openly told him about your episodes, but he knows that when you’re ready, you’ll talk about it

As of now, he’s content to help you get through it

[yandere-daydreams]

What about Jumin and Zen SHARING a darling???

The bickering, oh my god… at least they would never be mad to *you*.

TW: Mentions of Violence, Unhealthy Relationships.

“And… that’s who I’m playing.”

It wasn’t an uncommon sight, Zen holding you in his lap, letting you slot yourself against his chest while he flipped through his scripts and ‘researched’ his character. For the most part, that just meant pausing a movie every few minutes to make unnecessary comments or having you read one paragraph over while he mumbled seemingly random words and told you to ‘highlight that’, even if neither of you had anything to highlight with. It was something you hadn’t minded, when you two were friends. Hell, his enthusiasm was nearly endearing, from time to time. But, now that you didn’t really have a choice…

It all just seemed irritating.

As he ranted, pointing out little characteristics and quirks, you just curled into yourself, eyes trained on the comforter beneath you in a desperate effort to block out Zen’s voice. Ignoring his rhetorical questions, you focused on the pattern until you’d run out of pattern to focus on, your gaze soon falling off the end of the bed and landing on Jumin’s make-shift desk. It was really little more than a table he’d shoved into the corner, determined to never leave you and his supposed ‘partner’ alone together, as long as he could help it.

Usually, you were thankful for the excuse to keep Zen from getting too touchy, but today, the scratching of pen on paper seemed like more trouble than it was worth.

You flinched when Jumin looked up, meeting your eyes for a moment before you looked away, his dress-shirt too wrinkled, his hair just messy enough to make you grit your teeth in irritation. The majority of his suit had been discarded, luckily, but the absence of something you were so used to only furthered your discomfort. You tried to move away, to distance yourself from both adverse stimuli, but Zen just snaked an arm around your waist, idly kissing your forehead in a fruitless effort to sooth you.

Jumin seemed to take this as a sign that he should intervene, standing with a sigh and making his way to the bed. His movements were slow, methodical, like he’d planned every little twitch and fidget. He tried to be protective, resting a hand on the shoulder that wasn’t thoroughly embedded in Zen’s side, getting the other boy’s attention by switching off the television, not bothering to explain himself until Zen snapped towards him.

“Can’t you see you’re making (Y/n) uncomfortable?” He deadpanned, his slight frown never wavering. You wondered if he was even capable of feeling human emotions anymore, or anything that didn’t include his hatred of Zen or his… admiration of you. When neither of you spoke, he shook his head, attempting to pull you a little close to himself. “Clearly, they don’t want to hear about your side-role, anymore.”

At this, Zen glared, the arm around your waist tightening, dragging you into him. You locked your jaw into place, closing your eyes and praying they would just stop, but you’d never been the fortunate type. “You’re lucky I even let you see my angel. Just being in the same room as us should be a privilege.” He scoffed, his tone more aggressive, louder than before. More agitating. “And besides, it’s not like you give ‘em any attention. No, you’re too busy with all that damn paperwork.”

“They wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me.” Jumin was getting mad, now, his voice still steadily losing its calm edge. “I pay the rent, I cover the bills, and I’m the only reason you had the fucking nerve to do something besides stare and drool and bitch about all the other members-”

“Will both of you just shut up?!”

You’d gone through this a dozens time. They would go back and forth for hours until you were left to cry and cling to your pillow while they continued to blame each other for every little mistake they were both responsible for. It scared you, when they first brought you home, but now it was just irritating, frustrating, annoying. That lingering free was still present, a paranoia you’d never quite gotten rid of, but you didn’t care, not if you could have a second of silence. Zen attempted to lean over you, to cover your mouth and go back to his argument, but you just shoved him away, crossing your arms and moving away from the two. Jumin sent you a warning look, but you just rolled your eyes, refusing to let either get to you.

“You’re right, I don’t care about his fucking play.” You could practically feel Jumin’s smirk, the man opening his mouth to say something smug, but you continued before he had the chance. “But I don’t care about business meetings or who’s paying to keep me imprisoned, either. I don’t care who’s holding me, or how much you two ‘love’ me, because I don’t want to be here at all! Both of you are always going on about how much you want me to be happy, but you don’t even seem to like it!” You took a deep breath, squaring your shoulders, fighting the urge to dig your nails into something and tear. You would’ve seemed irrational. Hell, you were irritational. But right now, so were they. “I can’t wait until I get to sit alone and starve because you two fucking killed each other before you remembered I exist.”

The room was silent, for a moment, and briefly, you didn’t regret saying it.

Briefly.

Then, you felt Jumin’s hand tighten around your shoulder, blunt nails burrowing themselves into thin fabric. Before you could pull away, Zen’s fist was around your neck, making it difficult to breath and forcing you against the headboard. Neither of them looked angry, but… well, they didn’t look much of anything, really, faces blank and stares so concentrated, you could already feel holes burning their way into your skin.

Zen was the first to break the silence, letting out a dry chuckle as he spoke. “You’re supposed to be patient with us, beautiful.”

“We did warn you about misbehavior,” Jumin continued, momentarily scanning over your shaking form, if only to better evaluate with areas he’d like to… spent time on, today. “It’s almost like you’re asking for a punishment.”

You wanted to say something, to tell them how insane this was, so make it clear that no amount of punishments or lessons or pain would make you behave, but as Zen and Jumin met eyes, exchanging the barest of smiles before turning their attention back to you, you realized they weren’t planning on being merciful anytime soon. 

It was annoying when they bickered, arguing constantly and always dragging you into it.

But, you would gladly welcome their yelling, if it meant you didn’t have to be around when they got along.