#i am so rusty when it comes to comics but i tried out some new stuff here

[asheternal]

down HORRENDOUS

[anjaelle]

hii, can you write a dave lisewski x reader where reader is new at school and he volunteers to give her a tour of the school. Dave thinks she is really pretty and wants to be her friend, he asks questions about her and finds out that she likes comics and superhero’s just like he does and he asks her to come to his house after school to watch a new marvel movie that just came out. she says yes and they watch the movie at his house. during the movie dave just can’t keep his eyes off of her and he’s so in love with her even though he just met her.The movie ends and he walks her home because it’s getting late and he doesn’t want her to possibly get into some kind of danger. when they make it to her house( he finds out that they live close to one another) she thanks him for being so kind to her and kisses him on the cheek. he blushes and wishes her a goodnight. from then on they become great friends and maybe even more. (SORRY THIS IS SO LONG, js wanted it to be detailed so it’s easier for you!!🤭)

@baddestdu0y3t

Pairing: Dave Lizewski x New Girl!Reader

Warnings: None. Except general teen awkwardness?

a/n: Ok so I'll be honest and say that I haven't written for highschool characters since I was a highschooler myself about 10-11 years ago. So I'm admittedly a bit rusty. I probably won't make this a regular thing, because I don't really think I'm good at it haha. And I changed some things around and cut some things out for brevity, but kept the important bits. It kind of feels like a coming-of-age romcom.

(gif source)

--x--

Dave would happily get stabbed and hit by a car twenty more times if it meant he wouldn't have to deal with the current situation he was in. He'd dripped oil from his bacon egg and cheese in his lap, and tried to clean the stain with soap and water, which created an almost bigger stain. The hand dryer in the mens room wasn't working, there were no paper towels, and he was running late to homeroom. Todd gave him a sympathetic pat on the back and offered the ever-helpful comment, "Don't freak. It'll dry eventually."

But it'd been a half hour, and it hadn't dried completely. A few people passed him with looks of disgust.

This day was already turning out to be shit, and it was only 9 AM. He shoved his head in his locker, wishing that a sinkhole would form in the middle of the school and swallow him whole. As the hallway cleared, he noticed you looking down at at a paper and distractedly walking in one direction before turning a corner and disappearing. You then turned back around and walked past him again in the other direction, with a furrowed brow and a pouting lower lip. When you turned to pass him a third time, he closed his locker and awkwardly leaned up against it.

"Hey! Are you lost?" He nearly shouted at you. You stopped short, startled out of whatever daze you were in, and looked at him as if you didn't even notice there was another person in the hall until now. Any plans he had to have a normal conversation left him immediately. He cut his eyes away from you. It was like staring into the sun.

"Hi." You re-adjusted your bag on your shoulder, "And yeah. This school is way bigger than my old one and I'm kinda turned around."

"Oh, yeah, totally, for sure. It's--yeah, it's big." He said awkwardly pulling at the straps of his backpack, "I mean, the school is big. The halls are big. It's a maze. Even I still get lost sometimes, and I've been here almost 4 years."

God, Dave, shut the fuck up.

You giggled at him and he felt his cheeks warm at the sound of it.

"Um, can you help me?" You asked, quirking your head to get a better look at him.

"Sure. Yeah, I can walk you to your next class."

You smiled at him and he smiled back, revealing the cutest dimples you'd ever seen.

"What about your class?"

He peeked at your schedule and his brows disappeared under the curls on his forehead, "We have the same homeroom. So we'll be going the same way."

He was very different from the boys you talked to at your previous school. You thought of what your old friends would say about him. You weren't super popular or anything, but you navigated most social spaces with relative ease. It also meant hiding a lot of yourself. Dave had a kind face and warm eyes that studied you with a sense of eager curiosity that flattered you. Incidentally, you were curious about him too.

When you introduced yourself to him and shook his hand, you noticed immediately how strong his grip was and his calloused palms. Most guys you knew with hands like those played contact sports. He didn't seem like the type, at first glance. He seemed to notice your surprise but didn't quite understand the reason behind it.

"Sorry if my hands are sweaty," he said, instinctively wiping them on his pants.

You rushed to ease his fears, "No they weren't! You're fine." And then, "Do you play sports?"

"Nope. I mean...sometimes I play Wii Tennis. I don't know if that counts though."

You giggled again, "I think that counts."

Interesting. Maybe he did woodworking or mechanic stuff like your dad. You made a mental note for later.

You both strolled down the hall in no real rush to make it to your destination as you talked. He was incredibly animated and spoke with his hands when he got into the groove of the conversation. And when you talked about your old school or your family, he actively listened and asked even more questions.

"You're really cool," he finally said, breathlessly. If you could visibly blush, you're sure you would've. You've been called a lot of things, but never "cool" with such earnestness. "I just wish I'd met you when I didn't have bacon stains on my pants."

He looked down at himself again and grimaced at his own misfortune. You could almost laugh at how resigned he was. Like this was just an everyday thing he had to deal with.

"You could just do what the girls do when we have stains on our pants," you suggested. He quirked a questioning brow and you motioned with your hands. "Tie your hoodie around your waist. It'll hide the stain pretty well, I think."

His eyes widened like you'd revealed the secrets of the universe to him, "I...didn't even think of that."

He immediately took his backpack off and dropped it to the ground to unzip his hoodie. When you noticed his tee shirt, you heard an eager gasp slip from you before you could really stop it. His shirt had the different sketched out iterations of Batman's costume designs over the years, which included a mix of his comic and movie suits.

"I just really like your shirt." You explained as he tied his sweater around his waist. "I was raised in a DC household. My dad has a big box of old school batman comics in our basement that I used to poke through when I was a kid."

His face lit up at your confession, "You like comic books?"

"I used to. I mostly just watch the movies now. The good ones, anyway." You said, shrugging. In truth, you hadn't picked a comic up since middle school. You missed reading them sometimes, but you never really had anyone to talk about them with. So you just stopped. You explained as much to him and he hummed in thought.

"Well, you can always talk about them with me. Do you like Marvel, too?"

You scrunched your nose up at him and he gasped.

"I'm sorry," you couldn't help but laugh at his dismayed expression, "I just think most Marvel movies are corny. And the comics can be a little soap opera-y to me. Maybe I'll give the comics another try, but I don't think I've seen any recent movies other than Black Panther and Thor Ragnarok."

When he thought about it, he couldn't really blame you for feeling that way, "If you had to choose, would you say that those were your favorites?"

"Nope," you admitted, "My favorite is Captain America: The Winter Soldier."

"And not Civil War? That one's my favorite."

You shook your head as you both approached the door to your homeroom, "I may have only seen it in parts. I don't really remember it."

He bounced on the balls of his feet nervously and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "Well if you wanted...we could watch it at my house next Saturday. Only if you want. My dad and my friend Todd will be there, so it won't be just us. But they won't be weird either. At least, I don't think so."

You smiled at him as he babbled on, only reaching out to lightly touch his arm. "Let me ask my mom. She might ask for your dad's number, if that's okay?"

A small smile graced his pretty face.

He nodded, "Totally."

Todd wasn't super happy with the idea of you joining their movie night. But Dave watched him warm up to you until you were both practically friends, too. He felt a twinge of jealousy at how quickly you two got along, but he summed that up to just how friendly and easy to talk to you were. He knew the movie front to back, so he couldn't help but watch you study the movie with deep interest to see how you reacted to his favorite parts. When all was said and done, the three of you sat in the living room discussing Civil War and if you were Team Cap or Team Stark. You all seemed to be in agreement that Tony was a war criminal who indoctrinated child soldiers. But you all were in disagreement about whether Tony deserved to have his ass kicked by two super soldiers.

"He literally didn't even know that he did anything wrong!" You argued to Todd, who rolled his eyes.

"You're only saying that about Bucky because you think he's hot."

"Maybe so," you admitted, "but my point still stands. He was brainwashed, he wasn't responsible."

"So you wouldn't be upset if I killed your parents, and Dave knew but hid it from you, and then beat you up when you found out?" The blond asked, popping a pretzel in his mouth, "I dunno. I'd be pretty upset."

"That's different, Dave would tell me." You responded with a coy wink at your new best friend.

Todd groaned, "You think he'd throw me under the bus for you?"

"I mean--" Dave cut in, pushing himself from the couch to stand to his feet and stretch, "--she is really pretty. And she smells nice. You're not as pretty and you just smell like Axe."

Todd gasped in mock hurt and you motioned to yourself as if to say "look at the material."

When 9:00 hit, you said goodbye to Dave's father who invited you and your family back for dinner, and hugged Todd goodbye.

"You're still wrong about Tony." He mumbled.

"You're in denial."

"You're In denial."

When you broke away to hug Dave he hesitated, "I was going to walk you home if that's okay with you. No pressure. I just...Uber is expensive on Saturday nights, and I know you don't live too far. But I don't want you to feel unsafe."

You noticed Todd shoot an odd glance at Dave before schooling his features. You made another mental note, but nodded.

"Sure, thanks."

You still weren't used to how long city blocks were. So even though you lived only a few blocks away, it felt like so much longer. Despite everything, you were surprised by how quiet this section of Manhattan was at night. Some people milled about, either going to or coming from someplace else. The air was brisk enough to add a jolt of energy to your system, but it still wasn't so cold that you felt any rush to get home.

"So what's up with the callouses?" You suddenly asked. Dave seemed confused by the question, so you grabbed his hand and held it up to him, then turned his hands over to show his reddened knuckles.

"Oh. I-I'm a...boxer. I box." He stammered, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Only my dad and Todd don't know. So don't, like, bring it up around them. They'd freak out."

You hummed, "Okay."

He let out a sigh of relief. A sharp gust of wind from a passing wind tunnel chilled you to the bone, and you looped your arm through his.

"Oh!" You said, surprised.

"Are you cold?" He leaned in closer to you, "We can walk faster if you want."

"I just..my hands are a bit cold." That didn't explain the way you were wrapped around his arm like a boa constrictor. But he didn't seem to mind. He shifted his hand in his sweater pocket.

"There's some room."

You felt your stomach flutter when his hand brushed against yours in his sweater pocket. The flutter turned into a rapid thud when his fingers laced through yours. Despite how ice cold your hands were, he didn't pull away.

"Is that okay?" He asked, shyly, fully prepared to move his hand if you objected. You gave his fingers a small squeeze.

"It's great, actually."

You carried on the casual conversation for another few blocks before stopping at a newly renovated brownstone. He realized then that your family definitely had more money than his.

"Here we are."

You slipped your hand out of his grasp when you realized you still had it in his pocket.

"So...I'll see you monday?" He asked, fidgeting with a loose piece of string on his sleeve.

"Of course."

"Awesome."

"Yeah."

You looked him over one last time before you parted ways. He was your first real friend since you moved, but you still felt like there was so much about him that you didn't know. Not because he was particularly secretive, but because you felt like there was more to him than he let on. You unconsciously reached up and moved a curl away from his eyes. A small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth, in response.

"What?" He asked.

"Nothing," you said, "I just think you're really cool, Dave Lizewski."

His smile bloomed into a wide grin, exposing the deep dimples in his cheeks. "You're cool, too. Probably the coolest person I know, actually."

Your heart was thudding in your ears when you leaned up to press a gentle, lingering kiss to his cheek. Before you pulled away, you heard him gasp softly in surprise.

You suddenly felt your phone vibrate in your pocket and checked to see that it was your mom asking where you were.

You usually let your mom know ahead of time when you were on your way home, but you felt uncharacteristically out of sorts. You shot her a quick text letting her know you were outside.

"I hate to do this," you said, finally breaking him out of his stupor, "I really have to go now. Mom's asking questions. Text me when you get home, okay, Curly?"

You gently touched his arm and climbed the steps of your house to the front door. He gave you a weak thumbs up, but he still stared at you with a shocked, flushed face. "G-gotcha."

"And don't forget."

"I won't. I promise."

When you finally shut the door behind you, you peeked out of the small eyehole to watch as he touched his face in surprise and walked down the street in the wrong direction.

[bunn-iiii]

actually back on my Show Pony thoughts again

Why does the beloved queerest icon, Show Pony, not show up in the California comics? we see them for a few panels set in the past when they got the girl into the van and a few Polaroids here and there. The pictures indicate that the 'joys they hung around still remember them fondly, at least enough to have pictures of them around. But then why are they not around? Why do we not see them? Well a simple answer could just be they got ghosted but then why is no one talking about them? maybe it happened a while ago?

well I'm not simple so I came up with a whole fucking thing because show pony brain is complex and multifaceted

Show Pony was a teen 'crow. a crow that at first had no idea what the killjoys were like besides what the city told them. They were barely old enough to be working as a 'crow, accelerated by the fact that they graduated school early. BL/ind knew it would be more likely for a teen to escape the city to the Zones so they used them as an undercover spy.

Eventually wandering the Zones got them picked up by an old man in a wheelchair and his radio crew, they taught the undercover 'crow what it is like to be a killjoy. They dressed them in colorful clothes and put makeup on them, glitter and pink and blue covered them from head to toe.

In that moment, when they were named Show Pony, they knew that this was right. This was what they truly were. Not some drone for a giant corporation. A colorful, genderqueer, roller skating mailperson.

Through the next year they started to look less and less like the person they left the city as. Later, in the winter months, a new bright and shiney group of teen killjoys rolls around, Dr D took a liking to them as well as Show. They promised themself to never go back to being a scarecrow, they could never hurt these 'joys. The youngest was just few years younger than them, the oldest being their age.

When the girl appeared they cried, they thought about what would've happened if they had gone back to the city. So they made another promise, this time out loud, to protect the girl. She was something sacred, they could just tell. Show would help take care of her when not dropping off letters or running errands for Dr D, acting as a sort of babysitter for her. During this time Jet and Show started to grow a little closer, often the only ones in the diner while the others were fixing things or doing supply runs.

Then they have a firefight with Korse and the girl gets kidnapped. Show had been in a completely different Zone when it happened, only hearing the news from Dr D. They practically felt their whole word come crashing down when they heard what had gone down. They got back to the Radio Shack as quick as possible, seeing the trans am sitting outside.

only a few weeks later the Fab 4 decided to go after the girl and get her back, Show said they were going to go with but Dr D held them back. He told them he needed them there if things were to go all Costa Rica and they weren't able to get the girl out on their own.

Show sat at the radio on the table, it was a wave frequency that was meant to be kept open the entire time the Fab 4 were in the city so the radio crew could hear if things were to go wrong. They listened to the static and the sound of the four getting their weapons ready.

In the next few minutes everything went rusty. they were suddenly attacked jsut after getting the girl back. Show was quick to jump up and run out the door, dragging GoGo with them and hoping everyone else would follow. All of them quickly packed into the van, Show sitting right in front of the sliding door and getting ready to do anything possible to save the girl.

They already knew at this point that the likelihood any of the Fab four would survive was extremely low, they tried to make as much peace with it as they could in the moment.

When they finally pulled up to the building the girl and Jet was running out of Show jumped out, shooting at the 'crows that they used to work with. unbridled rage set into their bones as they saw the ghosted Jet splayed out across the trans am. They got the girl in the van and closed the door, GoGo driving them away as fast as possible.

when they finally stopped far enough away from the city, fairly close to the shack, the Girl jumped up and ran away. Show watched in absolute grief as she ran, they knew they couldn't stop her, not in this situation. At that moment the sound of a scarecrow car was heard.

Show looked around, terrified but not able to find the black car. That's when someone grabbed them and started pulling him away. Two people, two dracs holding their arms and dragging them to the white transport van. They looked for the radio crew, finding them looking at Show with disdain. Had they known? How did they find out?

Show would be reprogrammed into being a 'crow again and the events of the California comics would happen. Maybe they break free from the city, maybe they never remember who they were. But one thing is for sure, deep down in their mind still lays their Show Pony identity, hidden away and dormant.

[iidylllic]

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Il Dottore x reader | 16+ | 1.4k words

Description: A short fic of how Dottore deals with sharing with a clone.

Reader specifications: None. No pronouns are used.

Character specifications: There is a current-day Dottore in his newer design, and a clone that you are free to either envision as that or his comic design. He’s a bit socially inept (aww sound)

Tags: stalking- and so slight yandere, it’s kinda like you mommy dom him a bit lmk if you want more of that, assistant reader

Notes: this fic really has no direction. i’m rusty and i wanted to write. regardless, please enjoy

I am 16+, aware of the tags, and consent to seeing what is in this fic [yes ⬇️] [no ↩️]

It’s no secret that Dottore doesn’t like communicating with other people. He’ll do what’s necessary, and he’s proud to show off at times, but making small talk and casual conversation doesn’t seem to be his forte.

Which is why you’re surprised that he now tries to talk to you whenever you stop by his laboratory.

You’re scared of him, admittedly, and your job in relation to him doesn’t help. All the harbingers are frightening characters to be fair. Tartaglia seems more laid back, perhaps a virtue of being the youngest. You don’t think you could handle being around Pantalone, even as much as some of his subordinates seem to like him. Columbina, Sandrone, Scaramouche and Signora… well, you instinctively want to stay out of their way. Arlecchino seems to be a safe option but only in comparison to them, Pulcinella falling somewhere along that line as well. Capitano safer yet, knowing he wouldn’t pay much attention to you. And Pierro… well, thankfully you don’t think he would even consider you as a subordinate.

And that leaves you with Dottore, the mad doctor, always feeling seconds away from being his next test subject whenever you encounter him. Which is a lot. He’s not letting anyone inside his lab, though- no, he prefers to give his subordinates in that area their own labs and space to provide supplementary experiments to his own and conjure up new ideas. You merely take the simple burden of being human off his hands by doing what feels like everything for him. You suppose that any clone he has feels either above or repulsed by this task. The one that does float around his lab sometimes doesn’t seem to do much, and stares at you so often it makes you uncomfortable. Observing.

Dottore- current Dottore- used to do that as well when you first started working for him. You would busy yourself with cleaning his office and he would sit, twirling a pen in his hand, not writing. It was hard not to feel watched.

You launder his clothes. You fetch his meals. You juggle dinner dates and politely inform the other harbingers of when he’s free (to your surprise, all of them have been courteous to you so far in this respect, but you try not to let that sway you. The fact is that if they have a problem with his schedule they have no qualms about going straight to his lab, which is probably why you exist as a middleman). You run baths for him and at 10:30pm the worst job of them all comes: attempting to convince him to sleep in a real bed.

Well, second worst. There is one that isn’t on the job description, isn’t a requirement to making sure that The Doctor can focus as much as possible on his work. Talking to him.

When you talk to him (or rather, when he talks to you) he enjoys going on these winding tangents about his experiments. Sometimes, he talks you through them, as a method of checking if something has slipped his mind in planning the experiment. It’s like seeing a completely different side to him, so different from the curt remarks he makes to other subordinates or the barely masked threats. He loses the intellectual measure of his words, the thoughtfulness, and speaks more rapidly and enthusiastically with waving motions of his hands. And you smile and nod the entire time, desperate to appease him.

“Ah, wow, that’s impressive.”

“Wherever did you get an idea like that?”

“It must’ve taken a long time.”

He smiles wider beneath his mask. Sometimes he takes it off, sets it down for a few paces around the metal table in the centre of his lab, and puts it back on.

It wasn’t long until he started wanting more of you, and not just to talk to you.

Dottore developed a fixation on you, your preferences, your past. You suppose one of his clones has also been attempting to figure it out. His younger self isn’t much of a conversationalist, even less so than current-day Dottore, but makes an effort all the same.

“Is that your favourite dish? I see you always order it when it’s there.”

This is your first time ever in the canteen with this particular clone.

“You’re very observant,” You say, giving an awkward laugh. The clone straightens up.

“Where did you live when you were a child? There’s a gap in the records,” The clone smiles. “So please tell me.”

“I didn’t even know you kept records of that…”

“We do for some people. You for instance, are in close contact with a harbinger every single day and are provided with ample opportunities to put him in danger. So it’s important that we know.”

You can tell it’s a lie to some degree. The ambiguous “we” in the statement sounds more like “Dottore and his clones”. Why not have the actual record keepers of the Fatui pursue you for this?

You don’t see any other option than handing over the information at this point, knowing that this Dottore was especially persistent.

“I had to live in Liyue for a while when I was five, up until I was seven.”

The grin grows wider. A hastily scribbled note into a notebook produced from his pocket. He gets up and leaves you in peace.

Maybe some of the missing soaps and shirts in your room are starting to make more sense.

———

You think Dottore and his clone gossip about you.

“Liyue.”

“Oh? Any more information than that?”

“I didn’t want to press too hard. I’ll ask next time.”

“Leave this one to me… I will ask about it next time we’re in the lab together.”

You take a couple steps back from the door of his office gently, then reappear at the entrance, hoping neither of them would notice your eavesdropping.

“Hello, sirs,” You say, fumbling slightly over the greeting. “I was wondering if I should run a bath yet.”

The younger Dottore rolls his eyes, though it doesn’t seem directed at you. Rather a frustration at the situation in general, a dislike of the fact that you have to serve the real Il Dottore first and foremost, not one of his clones.

The current-day Dottore walks over and puts a hand on your shoulder with an icy smile gracing his features.

“That would be wonderful. Do help me undress when I come down.”

He’s been getting handsy recently, the second most disturbing development since the stalking.

“I will. Do you need anything?” You say, now directing your face towards his clone.

“I don’t need such things.” He hisses.

Dottore laughs a little, tightening his grip on your shoulder and leaning towards you as the clone walks out.

“I understand his envy,” Dottore whispers, breath fanning over your ear. “But perhaps it was an oversight on my part that… I’m not good at sharing.”

“But you already share me with your clone.” You say. Then you pause, cheeks heating up. “When it comes to my work, I mean.”

Dottore snickers at your mistake, other arm moving to wrap itself around your lower back.

“This is true. But he can look, yes? He can look, but he can’t touch. For now, at least. And if any of the others start this behaviour, they’ll be given the same instructions. And you know me best of all anyway, don’t you?”

You nod. You did know him on some level. You knew about his experiments and his enthusiasm. You knew about his rants. You knew his schedule for the coming month and you knew what way he liked his shirts folded. There was a few times you had seem him naked, so you knew that about him as well. To assume all of his clones were the same would be overgeneralisation.

“Good. Let’s head down now.”

You could sense in the back of your head that there was something amiss. Extrapolation. For now, at least. Dottore had moved from looking at you, to talking to you, to stalking you, to touching you, and nowadays even to having you undress him. His clone had moved from looking at you, to talking to you, to stalking you.

If there was a next step- something that came after having you undress him- then it would mean his clones would move one step further up the ladder, too.

You figured that Dottore was actually fine with sharing you with his clones… just as long as he knew he had premium access to the most valuable and intimate parts of you.

[pick-em-pool]

WEEK 6

I think I speak for everyone when I say that this week was one big OOF ☠ Scores this week ranged from mediocre to COMICAL 🤡 Y'all need to shape up or I'm going to have to execute commissioner order 420 and keep all that cash 💵💶💷 for MYSELF. We're going bottom to top this week, so lets see who's at the BOTTOM ↘↘↘

PEYTON - 4 POINTS

BRUH 😶 Hang his jersey from the rafters because Peyton has broken the all-time lowest scoring record for the pick-em-pool 👏👏👏 with a score of FOUR POINTS 🥴 that has dropped him out of first place. Just to put this in perspective, here are some things that are more than four:

The number of fingers on your left hand

The amount of times Tom Brady has retired / unretired

The number of scorpions Janie kills before 9 AM

My golf average over par (...per hole)

RUSTY - 6 POINTS OK we're not getting much better here people 🧐 as rusty strings together a measly 6 wins 🤷‍♀️ The shock of getting TWELVE points last week must have been too much for him. On an unrelated note, I'm putting out a PSA on Rusty's cocktails - last weekend we were supposed to come help him get his boat out of the water. Instead, he made me 3 cocktails and I almost drowned in a 2 foot hot tub 😐 The boat is still in the water

VAL - 7 POINTS

Alright, we're finally getting back to respectable score territory here! Val is inching along this season, not quite out of last place but still close enough to be IN the game 🏈🏈 You know what they say: the lawyer with a C is still called esquire 👩‍🎓 and the player with 7 points is still in the game. Val certainly can tough it out this season. I know she's tough because I watched her drain a shot made from Vodka, Zing Zang, Hot Sauce, and an OYSTER. I'm pretty sure they used that exact recipe to get prisoners to admit secret information in World War II 🤮

JULIETTE - 7 POINTS

The Sedona Swimmer sneaks back into second place as a surprise contender this season 🙏🙏🙏 She had a good run, but it's time to say goodbye 💼✈ as she begins her residency at the Ocean Deck karaoke bar. I'm always EXTRA impressed by the Daigneault family singing PIPES, because when my family tries to sing it sounds like a Walrus choking on a rubber chicken 🎶🎵🎼🎹

JJ - 7 POINTS

JJ is holding on to 3rd place as this week's craziness has really narrowed the gap between everyone! No last place for JJ this time. How he finds time to make these picks while doubling as a movie star is beyond me 🎥🎬 That's right people, I'm UNMASKING JJ for who he really is 😱

Now please tell me, have ANY of you seen JJ and George Clooney in the same room together? That's right, I though not 🤨

GABBY - 7 POINTS

The hottest accountant this side of the balance sheet saves par with a solid 7 ✊ keeping her in the mix at 2nd place 🥈 Gabby has been SOLID so far into season 3 and is shaping up to again contend for that TOP PRIZE 💸💰🤑 Even Adam Levine wants to know how's she's been so consistent this year

JANIE - 7 POINTS

It's gonna happen again isn't it? 🤬 Janie moves from third to SECOND place now 😡 Could we have an absolutely wild THREEPEAT ON OUR HANDS??? 🥇🥇🥇 Janie is going to remodel her pool with all the money she's winning every year 🤑 We need to ask JJ to drive back to Low Key Piano Bar before she makes her picks this week. I'm thinking we're only safe after tequila shot #3 🍹

ABBY - 8 POINTS

Alright, NOW we have people scoring some points 🎱 Gordon Ramsay approves of Abby's score:

Abby has the picks, and now she just needs one of two things. Either A) Someone that knows how to contact the Chinese company that made my fake I.D.

B) A time machine that can age Brady another year so my boy can get into the BARS 🥂🍾

Either way, our cradle robber needs to keep this energy up for the rest of the season, as she's still tied for last place. GO GET THAT MONEY 💰💸🤑💲

LISA - 9 POINTS

WOAH BIG MAMMA 😲 Lisa is running away with it and cruising into a THREE point lead after week 6🤯 She somehow nailed the Atlanta pick, the New England pick, the NEW YORK JETS PICK ✈👩‍✈️👨‍✈️ She's looking UNSTOPPABLE right now so if someone could take her crystal ball away for next week that would be great, we're trying to keep this one competitive 🏆

That's all this week folks. It was a ROUGH one let me tell you 😵 hopefully we can all get our ducks in a row just in in time for the SPOOKIEST week of the year 🎃🎃🎃 and, most importantly, WIN SOME MONEYYYYYYYYYYY 💰💰💰💰 See you all next time!

[dadsbongos]

sepulchral

Insert Coin - Chapter 2.c / Series Masterlist

A/N: these uploads take so long cuz for some reason the banners never fucking upload the way they should so yeah, sorry. no banner for this chapter, hopefully the next one won't be a cuck <3

Only under the guise of nighttime did (Y/n) undo Nagito’s restraints. She took his hand and led him out to the beach and towards the bridge connecting the next island. It was new buildings, new places - the diner stood out particularly to their hungering stomachs. When they tried any of the doors they were all locked.

“Closing time,” Nagito sighed out, hands jammed in his pockets to keep warm from the cool night air with a small pout.

Besides, (Y/n) noted as they began their trek back to the old building, he was extremely skinny. He probably got colder quicker than some of the others.

As the pair crossed over the bridge, (Y/n) stopped suddenly, turning to look out at where the sky and ocean met. Wine-dark sea in reflection of the stars’ backdrop. Nagito paused when he noticed he was alone, going back to the peacekeeper’s side like a lost puppy and following her stare.

Almost cartoonishly, the stars blinked at the couple, clouds coming in and out over the bright, chipper face of the moon.

Were her old friends staring at the moon right now? Was her family? What about her old neighbors?

Were any of them wondering about her?

How were they doing?

“(Y/n)?”

“Yeah?”

“Earlier, when I said I didn’t have anything contagious, do you remember that?”

“When I was feeding you, yeah. Why?”

“I do…” he paused, stacking his forearms over another symmetrically to the railing and leaning over to stare at the sea, “I do have something.”

Her gaze flitted from the heavens to Nagito’s back, “What’re you talking about? Do you feel sick?”

He couldn’t see his own reflection, not even with the moonlight, but then again - who would want to look at a face like his? Nagito closed his eyes, thinking over how to phrase his thoughts, “I… I have stage three malignant lymphoma, and to top it off… it's accompanied by frontotemporal dementia. I was just diagnosed before being accepted into Hope's Peak and now, I've lost three years of my memory and, as we speak, my brain’s continuously deteriorating,” he smiled, chuckling airly, “The good luck is that I’ve survived this long, I suppose that’s the one good thing my worthless so-called talent has done for me.”

“Oh, God,” (Y/n) muttered, bringing her hands up and over her mouth in horror, “I- I didn’t know- “

“That’d make sense, I didn’t tell you.”

“Nagito, I- “ he cut her off once again.

“I wasn’t supposed to make it even into my twenties, would you believe that?” he looked to the horrified peacekeeper, “But that’s luck, isn’t it?” he lowers his head, still smiling, to look at his shoes before bringing his head back up to stare at the stars, unaware of the girl staring at him, “I don’t ask for forgiveness of my behavior or even pity, I’m not worth it. But it feels nice to get that off my chest. Just… keep it between you and me, even though trash like me has no business asking such a favor from you…”

Arms wrapped around Nagito from behind, a cheek pressed to his back, “Of course, Nagito. I’ll keep it between us.”

One of his hands came over hers, no self-deprecation spewing from his mouth - simply letting the affection swallow him. It felt nice. To feel the warmth of a human being, “Thank you, (Y/n).”

How long had he kept that bottled up? Hidden away and tucked into his chest?

Slowly, (Y/n) pulled back from Nagito, patting his shoulder, “Come on, we should get back soon before anyone notices we’re gone.”

“Right,” he nodded, following after her into the room he’d originally been held in. He tried keeping his grimace as light as possible when he saw the chains, he really did, but it was incredibly difficult when he remembered how they dug into his skin.

But he shouldn’t be complaining. Kazuichi and Nekomaru were kind enough to tell someone, so he should probably feel lucky enough they did that much.

They were Ultimates. Symbols and keepers of hope. He was a chance. A gamble.

He was nothing. Not even worth his title as Ultimate Lucky Student. Luck was a joke. His luck was a joke. All it ever got him was being avoided and cancer and dead parents and a dead dog and kidnapped and now - trapped in a killing game. He wanted to grit his teeth and accept it.

His luck was other’s hope. He was a stepping stone.

But looking back on his own life, all he can see is gritting his teeth and accepting it.

And now, as (Y/n) gathers the chains in her hands, Nagito grits his teeth and accepts it. He kneels on the floor, facing away from the pipe he was about to be chained to - waiting for the clinks of the chains to lock him in place.

She’s an Ultimate. He has no room to complain when she’s fed him, kept him company, and even untied him all in one day. She has more talent in her fingernail than he does in his entire body. He should be kissing the ground she walks on in gratitude, not whining about having to be restrained when he got himself there in the first place.

He set up the murder. He got two people killed. It’s all his fault.

It doesn’t matter if it was for hope. It doesn’t matter.

He doesn’t matter.

He’s nothing.

(Y/n) stared at the back of Nagito’s head. Her brows furrowed in thought as he obediently waited for her to latch him to the old, rusty pipe. He wasn’t a saint fighting a heroic battle, she knew that. But he wasn’t a villain wildly forcing death upon those around him either. He was put into a situation that made him come to terms with the fact he lost years of his life for a killing game and now, he has to make up for that hope.

He did what he thought was right, in his own twisted reality where his luck was at a constant cycle, it was right.

And Kazuichi had tied him up. And Nekomaru had kept it hidden. And she… and she had thought about abandoning him.

Pursing her lips, (Y/n) shook her head, “I’m sorry. For everything. For keeping you tied up. For- "

“No, it’s quite alright,” Nagito turned to look her in the eyes, smiling ever so softly, “You’re an Ultimate, you know best.”

“No, Nagito, I don’t. Kazuichi doesn’t. Nekomaru doesn’t. Hajime doesn’t,” she reached out, taking his shoulders in both of her hands and squeezing, “None of us know anything, Nagito. We’re just human. You’re human, tying you up like this was wrong.”

“It made everyone feel safer, no?”

“It…” trailing off, (Y/n) pushed the chains away from them, “Can you promise me you won’t leave without me?” he nodded, “I’m not going to restrain you, but I need you to keep that promise, okay?”

“Then I will,” he nodded earnestly, “If an Ultimate needs me, I’ll do anything.”

Laying down on the ground, (Y/n) watched as Nagito removed his jacket and stuffed half under his head before offering the other half to her. She pondered the possibilities briefly, “Are you sure? It’d be more comfortable if you just took all of it.”

“You could be in your bed right now, but you’re here with me instead,” he murmured, “I’m not sure why you’d do that for trash like me, but I am sure I want you to be as comfortable as possible. In fact, you can have the whole jacket, if you don’t mind that it was on me.”

Before Nagito could shove the article of clothing towards her, (Y/n) moved to lay her head on the other half of his comically long jacket, “I think splitting it is best. Besides, if you can’t return to your bed, then neither can I.”

“You’re much too kind.”

“We’re friends,” she bit the bullet - she couldn’t forgive him fully for what he’d done to Byakuya and Teruteru, but this was a start. “I’m just doing what I think is right.”

“I appreciate it nonetheless.”

(Y/n) nodded sleepily, yawning as she spoke, “Sleep well, Nagito.”

“You more, (Y/n).”

[rocksandrobots]

Of Rocks and Robots Ch. 35 - Wrestlers, Boxers, and Ninjas, Oh My (Part 2)

Honey Lemon leaned in close to Varian's ear, a tempting smile playing across her lips, as she conspiratorially whispered, "Do you wanna go to tonight's wrestling match with me?"

Varian tried to stifle a laugh as he feigned a half hearted protest, "I thought we're supposed to be studying for finals?"

They were inside the studio apartment that Honey Lemon shared with Gogo; textbooks splayed out upon the table. Though small by most standards, the residency did occupy a sleeping loft, a fully equipped kitchen, and had a full bath complete with tub, which made it functionally larger than the dorms that Varian had lived in previously with Wasabi. There was no sofa though, nor any other leisurely dedicated space as Honey Lemon's own bed, which was positioned below the loft that Gogo slept in, took up the non-kitchen area. So there would be no more impromptu naps here as Varian had to either sit in one of the dining room chairs or on the floor, much to his disappointment; not that he would ever say so out loud.

But oh how she made it hard to focus even without a couch to cuddle on. She wasn't trying to distract him, he knew, but she just wouldn't stay still. First she ran about the apartment trying to do some last minute tidying up as he arrived. Next she tried to play the good hostess, asking if he wanted anything while she rummaged around the kitchen. Then even after finally getting her to sit down and open a text book, her free hand would constantly pick up her phone to read some notification or reply to a text, often sparking a random conversation that had nothing to do with the physics test he was trying to prepare for. Now here she was asking him to abandon the study session all together and he couldn't even get annoyed at her for it.

Everything she did was mesmerizing. Her voice was a siren's call that he could not ignore. She could have requested that he travel with her to the opposite side of the globe and he'd already be halfway finished packing a bag. But most frustrating of all was the fact that she was clearly oblivious to the effect that she had on him. She held him in her sway and didn't even know it.

"So do you wanna go?" She timidly asked again. "I mean finals aren't even for another whole week and I just managed to scalp two tickets off of Ticketwatch." She held up her phone so Varian could read the screen that confirmed her purchase.

Varian had to chuckle at the ridiculousness of Honey Lemon treating such an innocuous request as some sort of naughty affair that he had to be persuaded into doing, lest he refuse to succumb to temptation and take the dutiful high road of being a good and diligent student. Did she not know who she was talking to?

Still Varian wasn't going to let her win so easily. "I helped you with midterms, so it's only fair you gotta help me out with finals. And unlike some people, I like being prepared beforehand so I'm not over worked." He teased, thoroughly amused.

Honey Lemon gave an exaggerated pout at this lighthearted jab at her scheduling abilities and Varian nearly lost it in a fit of laughter. She was so earnest in everything that it was comical. But he couldn't stand to see her sad, even if only in jest, and willfully caved into her demands.

"Okay, okay, I guess we can do this on Sunday instead." He dramatically sighed.

He was rewarded for his compliance by her jumping out of her seat with a huge grin and flinging herself at him to wrap him in a tight hug.

"But on one condition," he said as he held her close, "we stop and get food first cause those prices at the concession stands are criminal."

"Alright," she agreed as she pulled away, "Just let me grab my purse."

Varian watched her as she ran over to the other side of the room and bent down to grope under the bed for the wayward purse; still in complete awe of her. Though he still tried to play things cool as they prepared to head out the door.  

"Are you wanting to call Fred and see if he wants to come too?"

"Ah well, I could only find two tickets. They're sold out for the night." Honey Lemon answered guilty. "But he can come another time." She assured as she closed the door and locked it.

Varian chose not to press the matter, but he couldn't help but smile to himself knowing that she had thought to ask him first; even if it was only because he was the one who happened to be around at the time.

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

Joe's Diner was right across the street from Honey Lemon's apartment. The retro style restaurant had seen better days, what with its rusty sign and peeling paint, but it was clean and the food was good which made it a favorite hang out for the locals.

Varian had eaten there before with the rest of his friends, yet a new sight greeted his eyes as he walked through the door. Sitting at one of the tables was a purple gelatinous blob with eyes and a mouth. It excitedly waved one of its long jelly like appendages in the air upon seeing Honey Lemon and himself enter.

"Hi Globby!" Honey Lemon answered back and the blob stood up to meet them.

"Oh Honey Lemon I'm so glad you're here. I wanted you to meet someone." 'Globby', as the thing was called, said.

"Oh I'd like you to meet someone too. This is my friend Varian. Varian, this is Globby; he's Carl's boyfriend." She explained as if this answers all of his questions.

Yes he knew Carl had a boyfriend, and that said boyfriend was a superhero, but no one had bothered to mention that he wasn't human.

"Oh Varian," Globby's eyes lit up in recognition, "Yeah, you're in Carl's boxing class. He told me so much about you. Nice to finally meet ya!" He shook Varian's hand vigorously, which covered his arm in the same purple gloop of whatever it was Globby was made of.

"Uh, nice to meet you too." Varian replied back as politely as he could as he tried to wipe his hand clean on his pants.

"Globby here helps us sometimes with the 'you know what'." Honey Lemon whispered.

"Yes, not to brag, but what ya might call the I'm the protector of San Fansokyo! But I wasn't always so. Once I was a humble thief, and then this happened to me," Globby pointed at his right arm as it dripped goop on the floor, "and then I became a super villain. But once I discovered that the city was in danger I lept into action to save the day! With a little help from my fellow crime fighters Big Hero Six. But seriously, I'm a hero now! Can you believe it! Me!? And I owe it all thanks to Honey Lemon here."

"Oh, no," Honey Lemon blushed, "You did it yourself."

"No HL, I won't hear any false modesty from you." Globby protested. "You believed in me when nobody else did. Even when I didn't believe in myself. That matters a lot. So thank you. Plus you also kind of gave me superpowers."

"How did she do that?" Varian asked.

"Oh well it was kind of an accident." Honey Lemon said.

"I stole her a chim-purse." Globby explained. "Then I used it to break into Krei Tech to steal a neurotransmitter device. And then I kind of tripped and fell while wearing it and the chim-purse kinda exploded and now here I am!" He spread his arms wide at this last sentence, a huge grin on his face.

"Globby is a polymorph." Honey Lemon clarified. "He can change his molecular make up to be whatever he wants it to be."

"No way." Varian breathed in awe. "You mean to tell me you can charge and discharge photons and electrons on cellular level at will?"

"Uuuuuuh, I don't know about that? But I can turn myself into chocolate!" And with that Globby's hand transformed into what looked like a giant chocolate bar, of which he bit into and with mouth still full said, "Ooh nutty!"

Varian watched with a mixer of amazement, horror, and nausea, as Honey Lemon stood by silently; unsure of what to say. The awkwardness however, was dispelled by the sound of raucous laughter coming from the booth Glooby had been sitting at.

"That is a neat trick mi amigo."

A large man, wearing a trench coat and a mismatched luchador mask turned around in his seat to look at them. Varian recognized him from the wrestling ring.

"Hey you're…"

"El Fuego" Honey Lemon whispered in dread.

"Not anymore, now I am El Agua!" The wrestler proudly proclaimed; oblivious to Honey Lemon's discomfort. "It's a bit of a rebranding thing."

"Oh yeah, we saw you at the match last week." Varian excitedly jumped in, also not catching onto Honey Lemon's disquiet demeanor, "You were great! I especially liked how you threw The Sandman out of the ring with only one arm. That was cool."

"Oh hey, a fan!" El Fuego, or Agua as he now was called, enthused. "Always happy to meet fans. Would you like an autograph?"

"I sure would!"

The wrestling champ chuckled in delight as he pulled out a pen and began to sign his name upon a napkin.

"This is who I wanted you to meet," Globby explained. "Salinas here reached out to me for help. He's trying to go straight and is working really hard to get his life turned around."

"Yup, no more life of crime for me." El Agua confirmed as he handed the autograph to Varian. "I'm a changed man."

"How nice." Honey Lemon said with a strained smile on her face.

"Yeah I know, right!? I told him how much of a positive influence you were when I first started out superheroing." Globby continued. "I'm glad you stopped by, so that you two could finally meet. Wanna join us?"

He gestured to the booth and Honey Lemon looked like he had just asked her to dive into lava.

Varian was going to take up the offer but she answered before he could.

"Oh no, we only came here for… for… some… uh, ice!"

"Ice?"

"I thought we came here for fo-"

"Ice... ice cream that is." She nervously laughed. "Yup, we're just going to get some ice cream... to go. Wouldn't want to be late to… where we're going."

She wore a plastered grin as she turned to the counter to order. "Two vanilla ice cream cones please."

Varian and the others watched on in confusion as she took the two cones from Joe and then hurried back. She practically slammed one of the cones into Varian's chest as she hastily handed it to him, and before he could process what was happening, she grabbed the end of his sleeve and started to drag him out the door.

"Bye!" She yelled and Varian awkwardly attempted to wave before the glass door slammed shut behind them.

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

"Uh… Honey Lemon?" Varian asked after they were a few yards away from the diner.

"Hmmm?" Honey Lemon barely answered back as she strode forward, determined to put as much distance between her and the conversation they had just left.

Varian pressed on. "Ice cream is nice and all, but I thought we were going to go get, um, real food."

Honey Lemon finally slowed and turned to meet him, taking a guilty bite from the frozen treat. "We will, I just… I thought we could go get pizza instead!"

Varian turned back to look at the sign hanging from the restaurant window. Pizza was advertised alongside the menu's other assortment of food. He raised an eyebrow and Honey Lemon wilted under his skeptic gaze. She took another bite of her ice cream and suddenly found the toes of her shoes very interesting.

"Honey Lemon."

She looked up but still didn't answer.

"Honey, you're very sweet," Varian coaxed, "but you're a terrible liar. You know that right?"

Honey Lemon sighed and rolled her eyes in a rare display of frustration. "Look I just... didn't want to get caught up in eating dinner with them. We got on stuff to do."

"You mean stuff like going to the same wrestling match that El Agua was no doubt going to later?" Varian asked incredulously. "I figured you'd jump at the chance to hang out with an actual wrestling star. Maybe he could have gotten us backstage passes or something, I don't know?"

"Well, I don't." Honey Lemon said flatly.

Varian paused and looked at her in surprise. He couldn't remember ever seeing her being so cold or evasive.

"What 's wrong?"

Honey Lemon bit her lower lip, "I just.. I just don't trust El Fuego. That 's all."

"Why? What did he do? Did he hurt you?"

"No, no. It's just he's a super villain and we've fought him before…"

"But didn't Globby just say he used to be a super villain too?"

"Well yeah, but that's different."

"How so?"

"Well, Globby's nice and he tries really, really hard. He doesn't mean any harm, even back when he was a thief."

"Oh so, this other guy did something really bad then; something even worse than theft."

Varian thought he had hit upon the problem, but Honey Lemon's response was not one he expected.

"Weeeelll… Sort of…"

"What did he do then?"

"He- Well he.. He's a bully."

Varian tilted his head in confusion; not understanding Honey Lemon's point.

"I mean he called Baymax a bunch of names and tried to challenge him and Hiro to a fight." Honey Lemon explained.

Varian waited to see if she would list any other transgressions and when she didn't, all he could do was give her a look of utter bafflement.

"That's it!?"

She nodded her head timidly.

"Is- is that even a crime?" He asked with a hint of exasperation.

"Well, not exactly…" She admitted. "But it 's mean."

"So what?"

Now it was Honey Lemon's turn to act surprised, yet Varian didn't give her a chance to continue.

"You can't just lock people up for not being nice."

"Well we didn't," Honey Lemon defended, "but neither do I have to be friendly to someone who isn't."

Varian had to admit she had a point.

"Ok, fair enough. No one said you had to like the guy."

"Thank you."

"But he still deserves a second chance, surly."

"Well sure, and if he does become a nicer person that's great, and I wish him the best. But I don't wanna hang out with him."

Varian sighed and shook his head. "'Nice' has nothing to do with it, but of course if you don't feel comfortable being around him we can go somewhere else to eat." He pulled out his cell phone. "I'll call ahead and order us a pizza."

He continued walking towards the bus stop but Honey Lemon stood rooted to the spot in confusion.

"What do you mean 'nice has nothing to do with it'?  She eventually asked.

'Well you can't tell how good or bad some is by how polite they are."

"I know that. What matters is how they treat people."

"Yeah, but sometimes it's more complicated than that. Doing one bad thing, doesn't mean they're a bad person. You don't know what El Agua's life is like. You don't know why he did what he did."

"El Fugeo," Honey Lemon corrected. "And I know he tried to pick a fight with my friends; Your friends."

"Yeah, and from the looks of things he didn't actually hurt anybody. Hiro's never even mentioned him before."

Honey Lemon gave him an offended pout, and Varian tried to once more defuse the situation.

"Look, I just.. I know of people who've done far, far worse, and plenty of 'nice' people who'd stab you in the back. Anyways would you like the cheese pizza or the veggie supreme."

He pointed at his phone as he tried to change the topic, but Honey Lemon

wasn't ready to let the conversation go just yet.

"This isn't Corona." She said quietly.

"And thank goodness for that." Varian agreed, though his voice was tight with pained sarcasm.

"You think I'm being mean, by blowing El Fue- El Agua off?" She asked.

Varian immediately looked up from his phone. "No. Oh no, of course not; you're the kindest person I know. If you think the guy is bad news then you're probably right."

She searched his eyes for reassurance.

"Look,' he soothed, "let's just forget the whole thing and have a fun evening. We can get a five dollar pizza at Luigi's, then head on to the match and we'll see who's better at heckling. Loser has to buy the next tickets."

Honey Lemon snorted with laughter.  "Who decides that?"

"We do. Whoever makes the other laugh more wins."

"Oh you're on." She challenged; right when the bus pulled up.

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

Varian and Honey Lemon stepped out into crisp night air as they exited the arena. Crowds of people pushed past them also trying to leave the event and so Honey Lemon hooked her arm around Varian's so as not to get separated.

If there was one thing Varian knew about Honey Lemon, it was that she was a very tactile person. She showered everyone with physical affection; hugs, hand holding, cuddles, and pecks on the cheek, even people she just met would be subjected to her glomping them as if she'd known them her whole life. Therefore Varian tried not to look any deeper into such innocent action, but it still made his heart skip a beat to have his crush so close. Nothing could wipe the grin off his face as they hurried down the sidewalk to the bus stop.

"So why do you always root for the bad guy?" Honey Lemon asked as they went along.

She was referring to the wrestlers. Her and Varian always seemed to favor opposing teams. While she cheered on the heroes of the play, he always gravitated towards the heels that opposed them.

Varian shrugged. "I guess I just like the underdog. The villains tend to be more interesting in my opinion."

"But they're mean; at least in the story, I'm sure they're perfectly nice people in real life." Honey Lemon hastily added.

"All except that Vanguard guy you like. He's a jerk on stage."

Honey Lemon playfully sighed and rolled her eyes. "I don't see it that way. He's written to be like a knight in shining armor."

"Yeah and he's infuriatingly smug while doing it. He goes on and on about 'justice' this and 'honor' that, but what is he really fighting for? His own glory, that's what. It's a game and he wants to win it. At least the 'bad guys', as you put it, are more honest about why they're there."

"But it's all made up." Honey exasperated, "No one is more 'honest' than anyone else because it's scripted. If the story says someone is good or bad you just accept it. It's all a part of playing along and having fun with it."

"Oh sure, but I personally find the villains more fun because nothing is really at stake. Heroes in stories are always too perfect, too pure. Who can relate to that? Who's never wanted to lash out when angry or fight against the status quo? It's easy to be 'good' when you've never had to struggle for anything."

Honey Lemon studied Varian intently as she mulled over his words, and Varian could sense that he'd exposed a nerve; whether it was Honey Lemon's or his own, he wasn't sure.

He was just about to laugh it off and change the subject in order to ease the tension, when suddenly a very large and intimidating figure stepped out of the shadows. Varian instinctively moved to place himself between Honey Lemon and this new threat. Which was silly, he knew. She was an actual superhero. She didn't need him to shield her.

However the 'threat' was not a threat at all. The large man before them burst out into a very familiar boisterous roar.

"Oh I'm sorry mi amigos. I did not mean to startle you. You must not recognize me without my mask." El Feugo laughed.

He was out of costume, and dressed in the trench coat that they had seen him in earlier at the diner. Only this time the luchador's mask was off revealing a man in his late twenties with short black hair and a small scar running across his nose, indicating where it had been broken in a previous fight.

"You should have told me you were coming to see the show tonight." He continued on. "I would have gotten you better seats."

The wrestler's face beamed with an infectious grin and Varian was tempted to make polite conversation. He was always ready to make friends with just about anyone who wanted to, but Honey Lemon's grip tightened around his arm as she tensed up. He spared a quick glance back to see her still huddled behind him, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

"Uh, yeah, well we didn't want to trouble you." Varian answered.

"Oh no trouble at all. Any friends of Globby, is a friend of mine. Hey I know, I can get you tickets to tomorrow's match." He dug into his pants pocket and pulled out two tickets before either of them could protest. "We players always get a couple of free tickets for family or what not. I haven't got anybody else to give them to, so you might as well use them if you can."

Varian tried to politely turn him down "Oh no thank you. I don't know if we can make it. Finals are coming up and all that."

"I insist. They're good till the end of the month and they come with backstage passes too."

Without any other excuses to give, Varian took the tickets and said thank you, though he could feel Honey Lemon's disapproval radiating off of her as he did so. Still she neither said nothing, nor made any moves to stop him.

"Well I guess we better be going." Varian said, trying to exit the awkward situation, "We don't want to miss the bus."

"Oh me neither." El Fuego agreed as he walked with them to the bus stop. "Wrestling is my passion, but it doesn't always pay enough to hire a chauffeur to drive you around in a sports car." Then he doubled over laughing at his own joke and not unkindly nudged Varian with his elbow, "Not unless you get a promotional deal, am I right?"

Varian gave a fake laugh, "I wouldn't know. I never wrestled before."

"Oh that's right, Globby, said you were taking boxing lessons instead. Ever thought of getting the ring?"

"Oh no, my aunt would never allow that."

El Fuego titled his head in confusion. "I thought you two were in college? You still let your aunt tell you what you can and can't do? You stand up and be your own man."

Varian noticed Honey Lemon's lips tighten at that and she squeezed Varian's arm tighter. It was slightly unnerving to see the normally cheerful and carefree girl so clearly annoyed.

"Yeah, well she's the one paying for the classes." Varian explained and El Fuego nodded his head and then launched into another topic of conversation as the bus arrived.

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

And so it went the whole ride back to the apartment. El Fuego carrying on, freely talking about everything and anything, clearly oblivious to the fact that his company wasn't wanted. Varian trying to politely keep up his end of the conversation while ignoring the vice like grip Honey Lemon held his arm in. He was sure it had fallen asleep from lack circulation by the time they arrived at their destination. All while Honey Lemon, herself, kept deathly silent the whole way. She wouldn't budge from the Varian side, nor look away from wrestler sitting across from them; as if El Fuego had been a poisonous snake rather than just a man with a poor perception of social cues.  

What Varian couldn't figure out was why she wouldn't voice her displeasure. It was her evasiveness that threw him off kilter more so than El Fuego's chatter.

Yet he didn't have to wait long to find out, for as soon as they said goodbye to the man and made it back into the apartment, Honey Lemon let out a frustrated scream.

"Arrugh!"

"Have fun?" Gogo asked deadpan. She was sitting at the table eating a bowl of cereal when they had entered.

Honey Lemon's answer was another rage filled scream before flopping face down on the bed.

"Dude, what did you do?" Gogo asked of Varian.

Varian was offended "Why automatically assume it's my fault?"

"We met El Fuego." Honey Lemon said before an argument could break out.

"Where?"

"He was with Globby at Joe's and later he rode the bus home with us on the way back from the wrestling arena." She tiredly explained. "He says he's trying to 'go straight.'" She flung her hands up in exasperation before flopping back down on the bed, curling up with a pillow while continuing to pout.

Gogo gave the same bewildered look that Varian did earlier that day. "Oookaay annnd…?"

Honey Lemon scrunched up her face and revulsion. "Aaaand, he gave us free tickets to the next match, can you believe him?"

Gogo and Varian exchanged confused looks.

"Oooh how horrible" She sarcastically replied.

This really set Honey Lemon off. "You don't understand. He's just pretending to be nice to try and get us to trust him."

"And why would he do that?" Gogo asked.

"Well to...to... I don't know, to get to Hiro maybe."

"Does he even know who Hiro is? Cause all he ever cared about was fighting "Big Hero Six" and to him that just means Baymax."

"Then...he must be after Baymax then."

"Does he know that Baymax or any of us are in Big Hero Six?"

"I..I don't know. I don't think Globby would tell our secret. He didn't mention it when we met him." Honey Lemon starred out into the middle distance trying to recall their past conversation.

"Well, even then, it's not like he can actually hurt Baymax. I mean he's a robot." Varian added.

This only rewarded him with a narrow glare from Honey Lemon. Varian would have backpedaled away had he not been so shocked.

"You took the tickets from him!" She yelled.

"What else was I supposed to do? He insisted. It's not like we have to use them or anything."

Gogo ignored their spat as she texted on her phone. The reply dinged back; drawing everyone's attention.  "Okay, I just texted Globby. He says he hasn't told El Fuego anything about Big Hero Six other than that he works with us sometimes."

Honey Lemon pouted in confusion. "Then what is he after?"

"I don't know, friends maybe?" Gogo shrugged. "Whatever it is, it's nothing to do with us or superheroing."

"But...but, but he…" Honey Lemon stuttered over her words as she desperately tried to come up with another justification. "He… he was acting really creepy; alright!? Jumping out of shadows… laughing at.. at… well everything…"

"He was walking to the bus stop already and just happened to run into us." Varian clarified for Gogo. This made him the victim of another angry stare from Honey Lemon. "What!? It's true."

"Well, I don't trust him. I think he's up to something." Honey Lemon sulked, hugging her pillow tighter.

"Ooor maybe you just don't like him." Gogo said. "You're allowed to just not like people. You know that right?"

Honey Lemon looked surprised by this revelation. She opened and closed her mouth several times to form a response but the words just wouldn't come.

"Yeah and if anyone knows about not liking people, it's Gogo." Varian teased. "She doesn't like anybody."

This earned him a light punch on the arm. He just couldn't win today.

"Look, it's fine." She said, returning her attention to her roommate. "I know you're a little ray of sunshine, who's friends with the whole world, but not everybody gets along and that's ok. I'm sure even Varian here knows people he dislikes, and he's Mr. Congeniality."

Varian gave a look of offended confusion. He didn't know if 'congeniality' was a jab at his expense or a compliment. Either way he was sure the descriptor didn't fit him.

"Is there anybody you don't like?" Honey Lemon asked him.

"Who me? Yeah, I got a whole country's worth of people I hate."

"See?" Gogo confirmed, not catching on to the deeper meaning behind his words.

Honey Lemon pouted again, but didn't argue back as she mulled over her friend's advice.

Varian stepped in with a peace offering. "Look, would like for me to throw away the tickets?"

"No." Honey lemon sighed. "Ask Fred to go with you, since he didn't get to come this time."

"You sure?"

She nodded yes and gave him a small reassuring smile.

"So, are you still mad at me?"

"Oh, I was never mad at you."

"Really? Cause it sure seemed that way when you yelled at me just then."

"I'm sorry." She whispered sheepishly.

"Don't worry about it. I'm sorry too. Next time we won't take the bus, how's that?"

She agreed and Varian made ready to leave.

"Do you want me to drive you home?" Gogo asked.

"Naw, It's alright. It's only 10:30. Besides, the bus is less drafty than the motorcycle." He joked.

"Well ok, just be safe and text one of us when you get back."

Varian rolled his eyes "Okay 'mom', See you Sunday."

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

They said their goodbyes and Varian walked back to the bus stop. He called Aunt Cass to let her know he was on his way home, and then proceeded to text Fred about the tickets while waiting on the bus to arrive.

Just then someone grabbed him from behind and placed their hand over his mouth. He dropped his phone in surprise and tried to break free of the person's grip. But no matter how he kicked and squirmed he couldn't escape their grasp.

Yet still even more frightening was the fact that he could feel his limbs grow heavy and his vision swam. They held a damp cloth in the hand that covered his mouth and whatever chemical itwas dipped in was making him lose consciousness. He listed the possible combinations in his mind as darkness rushed up to meet him; chloroform? no, morphine? probably not, fentay-.....

"Got him boss. We're on our way now." A man said over the intercom in his ear. He then picked up the unconscious teen and carried him off into the night.

[bybibucky]

We Do It All – Everything – on Our Own

All That I Ever Was – Chapter I

Bucky Barnes x reader Series – post Captain America: The Winter Soldier (WIP)

    You are a damsel in distress, not matter how much you don’t want to be. Bucky Barnes is your knight in rusty armor, lost in his own head, trying to figure himself out. After having found each other, you go from there, accidentally fixing what shouldn’t be broken in the first place.

   – song fic based on “Chasing Cars” by Snow Patrol

    warnings overall: language, slow burn, angst, violence, mentions of death, injury, mentions of rape, prostitution, physical abuse

    word count: 4.3k

    author’s note: and so the journey begins. I’m hella excited, are you?

In a way, he should have seen this coming. Wandering around New York City, trying to relearn the ins and outs of the place, he was bound to run across something he wasn’t supposed to see. Usually, he was good at ignoring things that didn’t concern him, and he was by no means a vigilante of any sort, but that helpless, muffled scream that perked up his ears wasn’t anything to walk away from.

“Please.” The way just that simple word held so much fear was enough to make him grind his teeth together. Someone was in danger, helpless in the hands of a bad person, that much he knew and he also knew that, somewhere deep down, even though he didn’t want to allow himself to admit it, there was a part of him that was better. Maybe, this would take him a step further to rediscovering that person he had once been.

So, he briefly checked whether his gloves were still in place, and then walked towards the noise all the way down the alley. Every step made your whimpering that much easier to discern, his heightened senses always on high alert, and he could make out the unmistakable sound of fruitless struggling. When he saw you, he knew for sure.

“Stop fucking trying to escape.” The man, large but not muscular, had one hand tightly fisted in the fabric of your flimsy dress, one on the back of your head, pushing it against the rugged brick wall. Bucky knew from experience that it would leave a burning mark on your skin and he already wanted your attacker to feel the tenfold of that sharp pain.

Your voice was muffled against the stone when you tried to beg again. It wouldn’t go anywhere, and Bucky decided to make himself known. Taking both you and the attacker by surprise, he grabbed the latter by his collar, yanking him backward. He hadn’t even used his metal arm, but the man still lost his footing and tumbled to the ground. Weak. Bucky followed suit and you could do nothing but watch. He straddled the guy’s legs to keep him still and, this time, used both hands punch to him black and blue, using some of his hidden fury that always seemed to be there to really make it hurt. But contrary to what everyone he knew thought, he was able to stop himself before he’d commit another murder. Watching his victim for a second, making sure that he’d stay down, he looked up to see you cowered against the wall, hands cradled to your chest, wide eyes leaking tears that had to sting in the fresh cuts on your cheek. You were favoring your right foot.

He stood up, hands raised to show he wouldn’t hurt you, and waited for you to react. He’d anticipated for you to scream or run away, to tell him he’d made a mistake, but what he hadn’t seen coming was for you to just, well, collapse. Bucky was just barely fast enough to catch you from where he had stood. You were limp in his arms, helpless, and he was looking around as if the dark alley had answers, running his mind to figure out what to do with you now.

:::::

You woke up on a mattress. Not a bed, but a mattress. And that alone made you sit up way too quickly, the blood rush forcing out a hiss between your teeth. But you pushed it aside, fingers rubbing your temples, and took in your surroundings. None of the things you saw belonged to either you or your roommates. Not any of the books scattered around the tiny apartment, not the piles of clothes on the floor, some neat, some carelessly dumped there, and not the small kitchen counter with the dirty dishes in the sink. The windows were covered by thick black fabric, basking the place in darkness which was only broken by the one window that didn’t have a makeshift curtain, and this told you it was already morning. Where the fuck were you?

“You’re awake,” came a deep voice from a corner of the room and you almost jumped out of your skin. Moving your hands to cover yourself on instinct, you noticed that someone had put a sweater on you.

“You were shivering,” was all the explanation you got and you chose to be okay with that. You were still wearing your dress and there wasn’t that unmistakable feeling between your legs that you weren’t wearing any panties. So he probably hadn’t raped you.

And then the memory came back. The way Dylan had pushed you against the wall, how he had threatened to kill you, once again, how his fingers had dug into your skin. You shook your head to clear it. “Where am I?” This guy had apparently saved you from Dylan but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t dangerous himself.

“My apartment.” He slowly moved out of his corner and when you finally saw him, your first thought was that he was absolutely gorgeous. The kind of guy you used to joke about with your friends that you would let him do anything to you. Besides the fact that he could use a shave and maybe a different outfit, he was beautiful.

“I brought you here when you passed out,” he said, “I don’t know where you live.”

The more he spoke the more it became clear that he didn’t converse with strangers very often. The pauses in between his sentences he used to figure out what to say next, and his voice was deep but not loud like you were used to. He might have beaten Dylan to a pulp but, from what you knew, he hadn’t laid a harming finger on you. You nodded.

“Thank you.”

The man flinched. You didn’t know what to do with that.

He changed the subject. “Are you hungry?” he asked, “I think I have something in the fridge.” And he pointed towards the old, crammed kitchen space.

You shook your head. “No, thank you.”

“Water?” He looked weirdly hopeful for a yes and you realized he probably didn’t get a lot of guests.

You nodded and the man hurried to the small kitchen. He emerged with a bottle of water that he handed you with a gloved hand. You chose not to ask. Thanking him again, you took it and screwed off the cap. The seal was still in place so you were sure he wasn’t trying to poison you. He watched intently as you brought the bottle to your lips and, finally realizing how parched you were, gulped down half of the liquid in seconds.

“Okay?” he asked and you nodded.

Something about his careful, almost shy demeanor made you feel like he was nothing like any other man you had met. While clearly being strong – you had watched his strength in person and even all the layers he wore couldn’t hide his muscular build – it hadn’t made him cocky. It was a nice change.

“Are you in pain?” he piped up again, softly and in the same deep rumble you had sort of gotten used to already.

You wanted to shake your head once more, but now that your adrenaline had subsided, you were starting to feel the events of the night. “A little.” There was no saying what he would do with that response and you wouldn’t have thought that you’d get to watch him ball his hands to tight fists by his sides before he walked out to a room you deduced must have been the bathroom. When he came back, the small first aid kid was comically tiny in his gloved hands that held it out to you. You had no idea what to do with it.

He gestured toward the bed, silently asking for permission to sit. You scooched over a little to give him more space on the small mattress. Silently, he got to work. Opening up the plastic box, he rummaged through its contents for some disinfectant spray that he applied on a cotton swab.

“This’ll probably sting,” he warned, before he carefully began to dab the area around the cuts on your face. You winced because you couldn’t help it, it really did sting.

“Sorry,” he mumbled but you shook your head.

“It’s not your fault.”

He was silent again, after you had spoken, and neither of you could deny the tension in your words. You suddenly felt the need to talk about it.

“Thank you for stepping in,” you said. He was avoiding your eyes, but you couldn’t keep yours off of him. Up close, he was even more beautiful, although his face was unreadable. The useless, almost frowning expression told you nothing except that he was probably concentrating. You didn’t know him well enough to place his behavior. But for some reason, and you found yourself scared of the answer, you weren’t scared of him. “He always threatens me,” you continued, “but this time I really thought he was going to kill me.” It was the truth. Last night had not been the first time Dylan had cornered you like this, and it hadn’t been the only time you had needed to be saved. Only the first time someone had actually intervened.

“This is going to bruise,” the man in front of you informed you, and you scoffed bitterly.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

His frown deepened. “Why would anyone hurt you?”

That made you laugh. “Isn’t it obvious?” you asked, “that was my pimp. I’m a prostitute.”

He was taken aback, putting down the cotton swab. He knew about prostitutes. It wasn’t some new twenty-first century invention, but he had never met one. Not that he knew of. “Oh,” he said.

“You seriously didn’t realize?”

He shook his head, and suddenly, he looked so innocent. When he had first seen you, you had been wearing nothing but a thin negligée, panties, and heels, and that in mid-November air. Now, the only difference was the lack of heels that he had probably taken off for you and the additional sweater. This man was a puzzle to you.

“Do you like what you do?” he asked then, and instantly realized what he had said. “No, sorry. You don’t have to answer that.”

You smiled. “It’s no big deal,” you assured him, “I did at first. It felt so empowering. But the years went by and this guy – the one in the alley – took me under his wing and he turned out to be real asshole.”

The man nodded, clearly deeply in thought at your words, but you didn’t want the pity.

“What’s your name?” you asked to change the subject but it didn’t seem to be the right one.

His eyes widened just barely, mouth open like a fish. “I’m not sure,” he confessed, and you were about to ask what the hell that meant, when he added, somewhat unsurely, “Bucky.”

That certainly had been weird but you weren’t perfect either. “I’m Y/N,” you replied, and it felt odd to have your real name on your tongue for once. These days, you only ever introduced yourself by your stage name.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” It was a simple line to portray politeness and it felt a little forced but with good intentions nonetheless. “Does anything else hurt?”

It did. Your whole body ached, in fact, but his little first aid kit wouldn’t be able to help with that. So you shook your head.

Bucky narrowed his eyes, briefly scanning your body. “Your foot,” he said, “and I’m guessing you might have a bruised rib or two.”

You gasped just barely, suddenly found out. No one had ever been this observant.

He shrugged. “I saw the foot thing in the alley and you’re taking really shallow breaths.”

You hadn’t even noticed.

“I can take a look to make sure nothing is broken, if you want.” He said it carefully, making sure he didn’t seem like a pervert. “Your foot.”

It hadn’t been the first time you’d had to lick your own wounds but you had no medical experience, he probably knew more than you. “Sure.” You pushed the thin blanket off your legs and held out your right foot. Brows knitted in concentration, he gently ran his hands across your calf down to your toes, stopping to apply pressure at certain points, waiting for you to wince or whimper. He placed his hand on the back of your heel, the other against the ball of your foot, rotating your ankle slightly. On instinct, because that really fucking hurt, your tried to pull your leg from his grasp and he let you.

“Sprain,” he deduced, before carding through the first aid kit again. He dug out a bandage of some sort and looked at you questioningly, silently asking for permission to touch you again.

You extended your leg toward him once more, and felt something weird swell in your chest that wasn’t the pain coming from your ribs. This man respected you. You observed as he began to bind your foot starting at your toes, the stretchy fabric putting a relieving pressure against the pain.

“Too tight?” he asked and you shook your head. Bucky snapped off the band with his teeth before tugging the end under the wraps.

“Thank you.”

He gave you a curt nod, standing up. From your low vantage point, you watched as he moved around the room, gathering some books and a few shirts from the neat pile. Wordlessly, he arranged them in a tower beside the mattress, and you were confused until he carefully lifted your leg and placed it on top.

You couldn’t help but feel bad for him. This man was so… kind. Each movement deliberately thought through, each word chosen with care, you found yourself wondering why he was alone. It was obvious that he didn’t spend much time with other people, even though you thought he deserved to. What had happened to him?

“Would you like to take a shower?”

The question surprised you. A shower hadn’t really crossed your mind, but now that he had mentioned it, you started yearning for one.

“Only if it’s not too much,” you said and Bucky’s eye twitched.

But he walked over and stretched out his arms, offering you help. You took them gladly, your small hands almost getting lost in the large leather gloves as he pulled you to your feet. Instantly, you shifted your weight onto your good foot.

“Can you walk?”

You didn’t like the thought of him carrying you again, so you proceeded an awkward wobbling dance towards the bathroom, leaning on Bucky’s forearm for support. It must have looked ridiculous but luckily, his apartment was tiny, so it didn’t take you too long to get there. Bucky leaned you against the wall like a broomstick, briefly gesturing for you stay put, before he disappeared into the living room and reemerged with a plastic stool.

You were ready to cry at the thoughtfulness, the small gesture bigger to you than anything that had happened in your life before last night. Unbelievable, how people like this actually still existed. To you, it seemed like that generation had lived a hundred years ago.

“Clever,” you admitted, “thanks.”

Giving you a quick run-down of the shower settings, offering you everything in his supply of cleaning products, which literally only was a bar of soap, but you’d make do, he handed you a rather rugged towel that you gratefully accepted. Why he was being so nice to you, you couldn’t wrap your head around.

He left you to your own devices, then, softly closing the bathroom door behind himself. You, in turn, fumbled around with the settings on the shower until you liked the temperature enough. Eager to get under the stream, your clothes were shed in a hurry, though only as quickly as possible with your injuries. You were glad that Bucky didn’t appear to have a mirror anywhere in the apartment, meaning you didn’t have to look at yourself. The extend of the bruises, you imagined, wasn’t something you wanted on your mind. You hoped Bucky wouldn’t see.

The hot water loosened your tense muscles instantly. A blissful sigh left your lips like it had been aching to for ages, and you relaxed against the back of the chair. You had needed this desperately. You couldn’t remember the last time you had taken a hot shower. This was a luxury you didn’t feel like you deserved.

Forcing yourself to keep the whole ordeal as short possible – you didn’t want to strain your gifted resourced by any means – you went through a quick cleaning routine. The truth was, you were dreading the moment you’d have to leave this place. Yes, it was cluttered, undecorated, and frankly a little dusty, but the company was nice and you didn’t expect any respect relative to the one you were receiving now to be there once you said goodbye to Bucky. You lathered yourself up with the soap quickly, mindful of the bruises and keeping your injured foot away from the water. It was a difficult task but you didn’t want Bucky to have to patch you up again. Once was definitely too much already. The soap didn’t do a lot for your hair, but clean was clean.

After you had dried yourself off with the towel, you realized that you would have to put your old clothes back on. Or maybe you didn’t.

With a soft knock, Bucky squeezed a set of folded somethings through a tiny crack in the door. You took it, thanking him. Unfolding the garments, you discovered he had brought an arrangement of sweatpants, shirts, and boxer briefs. Grateful for not needing to wear your panties again, you chose the pair of underwear that looked the smallest, otherwise opting for a set of plain sweatpants and a sweatshirt. All of it was comically large on you, but so very comfortable. You couldn’t remember the last time you had felt this at ease. It was a stark difference to your work uniform.

Bare-footed, you tiptoed – ignoring the pain in your ankle – back to the rest of the apartment, finding Bucky by the sink.

Without facing you, he asked, “okay?”

You nodded, before realizing that he couldn’t see you. “I really needed that, thank you.”

He didn’t respond further, busy cleaning the dishes. Oddly enough, he still wore the gloves and that was weird enough for you to ask.

“What’s with the gloves?”

Bucky tensed barely, but you noticed. He shrugged.

“I’m guessing you don’t want to talk about it?” you asked. “That’s okay. You don’t have to.”

And Bucky relaxed. So it was a touchy subject. That was fine. He hadn’t pushed the topic of your profession once he’d realized you were uncomfortable with it. It was only respectful to treat him the same. Besides, it really was none of your business.

“Hungry?” he asked, this time, turning around. He had put the last plate on a folded dish towel next to the sink, letting it dry.

You were about to decline once more, but your growling stomach stole the show. Both of you breathed out a shy laugh. Most of the tension caused by the foreign nature of your relationship dissipated then, and something else, something slight and easy settled in its place.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Bucky teased, though somewhat still careful that any word of his was in danger of being the wrong one. You wondered whether he had always been this way, or if someone had hurt him. He opened the fridge. “I have bread and, uh, eggs. Those should still be good.” The inside of this fridge resembled the décor in his apartment. Scarce and only the bare necessities.

“Wait,” he said, taking in your appearance, and suddenly gasped, “why are you standing?” He took one large step and was directly in front of you. “May I?” he asked, and even though you didn’t know what he was talking about, you nodded.

Bucky, then, wiped his hands on his worn jeans and sneaked them under your armpit, lifting you gently but efficiently so you were sat on the counter top. He nodded, apparently satisfied, and brought his attention to the stove to make scrambled eggs.

You watched every move. The way he broke the eggshells with a single tap against the side of the small pan, how he placed the spatula so it was exactly parallel with the edge of the stove, and how he stared down at the cooking meal, as if that would make it go faster.

He stuffed two untoasted slices of bread with the scrambled eggs before handing you the plate. Bucky didn’t have a dining table, so he stood opposite you as you both ate right there in the middle of the kitchen area, your legs dangling off the counter top. It felt strangely intimate, like you had been doing this for years, eating in a comfortable silence. To your surprise, the sandwich was quite delicious, too, given his limited resources. When you told him so, Bucky beamed a shy smile that warmed your heart.

“It’s not much, I know,” he said but you had to disagree. The gesture alone was worth more than any fancy meal you had ever eaten.

Once you were finished and Bucky had taken the empty plate from you, he spoke again. “Your phone rang while you were in the shower.” He was avoiding your eyes.

“Oh, thanks. I should probably check that.” But you were kind of stuck on the counter. “Could you, um…” You trailed off, hoping he would get what you meant.

Your idea had been for him to get your phone from the bed, but you let out a surprised shriek when Bucky sneaked his arm under your legs, the other around your back and carried you over there. Scared he would drop you, you clutched his shoulders, but he walked as if you weighed nothing.

He went down on one knee, setting you onto the mattress carefully, before he stood up. “I’ll, uh, I’ll give you some privacy,” he said, awkwardly looking around the apartment for a place where he’d be out of earshot. When you saw him glance toward the bathroom, you put an end to it.

“Wanna sit with me?” you asked, patting the space on your right.

Not hesitating, and you decided to jot that down as some sort of progress between the two of you, he pushed the scrunched-up blanket away, plopping down. You bounced slightly from the force of it, and found yourself giggling.

“Okay,” you said, “give me a sec.” One look at your phone, however, dampened your improved mood drastically. The cracked screen was littered with dozens of missed calls, hundreds of furious text messages. You were in big trouble. Sighing deeply, you gathered enough courage to call Dylan back.

“Were the fuck are you?” came his voice screaming through the speaker right after the first ring, “you have clients waiting for you! If you’re brave enough to come back, you better have your affairs in order because I am going to fucking kill you! You little bitch! I should have kicked your head in yesterday when I had the chance!” After that, you toned out his words. You’d heard them before countless of times. But still, because you really were weak like he always told you, there were tears in the corners of your eyes, threatening to fall any second. What if this time, he’d be true to his word?

You’d completely forgotten about Bucky, who still sat next to you, able to hear everything Dylan yelled at the other end of the line. But he reminded you when he reached out to pull your phone from your grasp. Your breath hitched, suddenly looking at him, and from the force of the movement, a tear quickly rolled down your cheek.

“You can’t go back there,” he said, and his voice held something foreign that you couldn’t name.

You shook your head. He was right, but if there was any other way, you didn’t know it.

“He’ll hurt you again.”

You bit your lip, nodding. But if this was to be your fate, then so be it.

“Stay.”

There was a tiny gasp and it took you a second before you realized it had come from your own throat. “I couldn’t–“

“Please, don’t say no right away. Hear me out,” Bucky insisted, “I know this shitty apartment isn’t what you deserve, but I can make it better. I could get another chair or something. And I’m out most of the time anyway.” He paused. “But he hurt you. He’ll do it again and I–I can’t let that happen.”

“If I don’t go back, I won’t have any money.” This was ridiculous. You didn’t know each other and he was asking you to move in?

“Let’s make a deal,” Bucky said and he was the most energetic you’d ever seen him. Granted, he still was quiet and reserved, but he seemed genuinely determined. “You cook and maybe help me make this place livable and I let you stay and get us food and everything.”

“I can’t.” But Bucky, in a moment of bravery and probably desperation, grasped your hands.

“Y/N.” The word held everything from a plea to a promise, and something in his eyes told you he was trustworthy. So you yielded.

“Only until I can get something on my own,” you said pointedly, and Bucky nodded. Satisfied, he was back to his shy self and you wondered whether you’d get him to come out of his shell one day, whether you’d tear his walls down at some point.

[writemekpop]

City Lights | Wong Yukhei (Lucas)

Pairing: Wong Yukhei (Lucas) x Reader

Summary: Being a single mother isn’t doing wonders for your dating life. That is, until you meet your gorgeous neighbour Lucas. You try to stay away, but it's getting harder to resist his charm. Will you be able to let a new man into your life?

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Suggestive 

Word Count: 2.9k 

The lights of Hong Kong glittered in the distance as you watched through the glass wall of your new apartment. It felt strange moving into a new city on your own, free from your ex-husband Yuta. Well, you weren’t really on your own; you had your two-year-old daughter, Nara.

You had to admit that getting pregnant at twenty-four and ending up a single mother wasn’t in your life plan, but two years down the line, things were working out alright.

“Mummy look!” Nara said, peering down at the twinkling cars below. “They’re funny, aren’t they?” you cooed in response.

You had nearly finished unpacking; you just had to bring one more box into your apartment. You walked out into the corridor, your red heels clicking on the marble floor. You hauled the box inside, leaving the front door ajar.

You spent the next few minutes sorting through the contents of the box. “Honey look, here’s the alphabet book you were looking for,” you called out. Hearing no response, you looked up from the box. Your daughter was nowhere to be seen. “Nara?” you called louder this time. Still no response.

You dashed out into the corridor, calling her name a few more times. There was only one other apartment on this floor, so she couldn’t have gone far. You hadn’t had the chance to meet the neighbours yet, and you prayed that they weren’t serial killers.

Then, you heard the unmistakable giggling of your daughter. You rushed around the corner to see Nara babbling away happily with a young man. He was crouched in front of her, with one knee on the ground smiling at the completely unfazed toddler.

“Nara!” you called out. Two smiling faces turned in your direction. “Mummy!” Nara squealed, running to you with arms outstretched. You picked her up her lovingly, finally able to relax.

You turned to the handsome stranger, your eyes widening as you scanned him from head to toe. Now that he was standing, he towered over you – he was easily over six foot tall. His skin was a gorgeous dark caramel, and you wondered if it would taste as good as it looked.

You noticed the man’s large brown eyes raking over your body, a smirk forming on his full lips. You didn’t really mind - you were used to men staring at you. But you’d never seen a man as handsome as the one who stood before you now.

You realise that neither of you had broken the silence, so you decided to step in. “Thanks for finding my daughter,” you said, smiling up at him.

“No problem,” he replied, his voice deep and velvety, “She’s an angel, wouldn’t want her getting lost.” Nara buried her face into your neck, her little hands toying with your necklace. You smiled back at the gorgeous man, admiring the dimples that formed on his face.

“I’m Lucas by the way. Welcome to the building,” he said.

“Thank you, I’m Y/n,” you said, “And this little one is Nara.”

“She’s beautiful…” he said, “just like her mother”. Lucas smirked, his dark eyes twinkling in the corridor lights. Your eyes went wide at his blatant flirting, a deep red blush tingeing your cheeks.

“Thanks. You’re… you’re not so bad yourself,” you replied, cringing slightly at your words. You were a bit rusty in the dating department; since Nara came along, you’d not dated much.  

Lucas chucked, bringing his large hand up to cover his mouth. His eyes crinkled beautifully as he replied, “I know, right?”.

You and Lucas chatted for a few minutes, and you found yourself quickly growing comfortable in his presence. Then, out of the blue, he said “You should take my number”.

“Oh really, and why is that?” you said. Now it was your turn to smirk.

“It’s important to be friendly with your neighbours,” he replied.

“Oh, so you’re just being friendly?” you said, enjoying teasing the handsome man who stood before you.

“Of course!” he winked at you and flashed a dazzling smile. “I’d love to take you on a date sometime,” he continued.

“Bold of you to assume I’m single,” you said. Although your exterior was cool, you were melting on the inside.

“I mean, a gorgeous girl like you, I’m sure you’ve got loads of guys after you,” Lucas said. “But umm, the little one mentioned that the two of you lived alone. I just assumed!” he said, looking bashful and rubbing his large hand against the back of his neck.

“I am single…” you started “But I just moved here, and I need a bit of time to settle in.” You weren’t sure if you could let someone new in; now that you had Nara in your life, your priorities were different. Lucas’s face fell, and you found yourself regretting what you’d said.

“Wait…” you said, struck with a strong desire to see that gorgeous smile again. “If you really do want to go on a date, how about you ask me again in… in fifty days’ time?” you said, a blush creeping up your cheeks. Maybe by then, you’d have space in your life for Lucas.

Lucas smiled quizzically. He stepped closer to you and softly placed a hand on your arm, “Fifty days, you say?” he whispered, leaning in. “I’ll definitely be worth the wait”.

Lucas waved goodbye and left. You hadn’t expected a run-in with a handsome stranger on your first day in Hong Kong, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t intrigued.

Over the next few weeks you bumped into Lucas everywhere: in the elevator, in the hallway, a couple times in the bakery across the street. Each time, Lucas would crack a flirty joke and flash you a smile that sent your head spinning.

You’d learnt quite a bit about Lucas. For example, you found out that he was twenty-three (three years younger than you, but as Lucas always said, when it comes to love, age doesn’t matter). You were realising that Lucas was not just a pretty face. But you had to admit, his face was very, very pretty.

-----50 days later-----

It was a breezy Saturday afternoon, and you were waiting for the elevator to go up to your apartment. You had your sleeping toddler in one arm, and bags of groceries in the other.

Unsurprisingly, Lucas was on your mind. Just as you were picturing his lips, you felt a hand touch your shoulder. You spun around to see the man himself.  

Lucas was wearing black sweatpants and an Adidas T shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showing off his sculpted biceps. He had headphones around his neck, and the sheen of sweat that lightly coated his skin made him glisten.

“Hey gorgeous!” Lucas boomed, gesturing to carry your bags for you, which you gratefully accepted. “Do you know what day it is today?” he asked.

“Saturday?” you replied coyly. You knew exactly what day it was.

“Well yes,” Lucas replied, laughing slightly. “But more importantly…” he leaned in so he could whisper into your ear, “It’s been fifty days”.

Your heart fluttered at his closeness - you could actually feel the heat radiating off his body. “So, what do you say? Can we go on a date?” he asked, smirking slightly, like he knew the effect he had on you.

You smiled and beckoned him into the elevator. Lucas grinned cockily and followed you in. “I’d like that,” you said, after a pause. Lucas clasped his chest and let out a comically loud sigh. “Yes!” he exclaimed, “Name a place and time, princess, and I’ll be there”.

As the elevator ascended, the two of you agreed to cook dinner in your apartment next Saturday. You were secretly relieved you wouldn’t need to find a babysitter for Nara – she would be fast asleep in her room.

Over the next week, warm brown eyes invaded your dreams every night. You tried on countless date outfits, and Nara enjoyed the mini fashion show you put on for her. In the end, you settled for deep purple bodycon dress, black lace thigh-high socks and red lipstick that complimented the richness of your skin tone.

The evening of your date had finally arrived, and Nara was asleep in her bedroom, right next door to yours. She’d had some trouble sleeping through the night, but you prayed that this time she would.

As the clock struck eight, you heard a knock on the front door. You walked to the door and pulled it open, taking a second to look at the man standing before you.  

Lucas was leaning on your door frame, checking you out with a satisfied smirk. The way he was dressed made it clear he knew what made him look good. He was wearing a blue velvet jacket with trousers to match. His shirt clung to his chest and highlighted the hard muscles that lay beneath, its stark white colour contrasting his golden skin. A black bow tie lay open carelessly around his neck and his dark hair was styled up. He looked absolutely gorgeous.  

You noticed that Lucas was holding a punnet of strawberries and a can of whipped cream. You raised your brows quizzically as you let him inside. “Chocolates and flowers are too cliché, right?” he said. You chuckled as he set his gift down on the table and pulled you in for a hug. You sighed contently as you felt his strong arms wrap around you, revelling in his cinnamon musk and feeling very secure.

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

“Argh!” Lucas bellowed as he staggered around the kitchen, eyes watering. You stood watching him, one hand clutching your stomach in laughter. You had made sushi for dinner, and Lucas had boasted about how much wasabi he could eat. Let’s just say he was now paying the price.  

You looked around frantically until you found something that could help. “Here, open your mouth!” you said, still laughing. You sprayed some whipped cream in his mouth. After a few more sprays, the fire in Lucas’ mouth had finally calmed down, and he was giggling too, his lips and chin now completely covered in cream.

“You saved me!” Lucas yelled. “Come here…” he said mischievously, placing one hand on your waist and the other on your chin, tilting your head up. Lucas puckered his cream covered lips and leaned towards to you.

You squealed and tried to wriggle away, but Lucas’ grip on you was firm. Plus, he was hard to resist, so you let his lips touch yours in a sugary kiss. You licked the cream that was now on your lips and smiled as he stepped back, his cheeks tinged red.

After the meal, the two of you moved to the couch. An empty bottle of wine sat on the table in front of you, the alcohol making your blood hot with desire. You were lying down with your head on the arm of the sofa and your legs draped over Lucas’s lap.

Lucas’s large hands rested lightly on your knees, and as you talked, you felt his fingers ghost the skin of your thigh. Each time he touched you, a warm buzz ran through your body.

After a while, you were done with talking – you just wanted his lips on you. And this time not just for a little kiss.

“Lucas…” you purred. You looked up to him and saw his eyes darken with understanding. As you were about to move onto his lap, Lucas held you in place with a strong hand on your shoulder. “Let me,” he whispered.  

Lucas moved so that his legs were straddling your waist on the sofa. You reached your hand up to caress the back of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. The feeling of Lucas’ soft lips on yours was dizzying. You drew him closer, deepening the kiss and revelling in the feeling of Lucas over you.

Soon, your kisses got rougher, and you could feel Lucas responding to the change in pace. You ran your fingers though his dark hair and tugged, eliciting a low moan from the boy.

“Let’s take this to the bedroom,” you said, softly pushing Lucas off you. He nodded eagerly. His cheeks were flushed, and his shirt ruffled. You held his hand and walked quietly past Nara’s room.

Softly shutting your bedroom door, you kissed Lucas again, your hands tangling in his hair. The weight of his body on yours had you stepping back until he pushed you onto the bed. You lay back, propping yourself up on your elbows as you admired the view in front of you.

Lucas stood at the foot of the bed, smirking as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt. He tossed his shirt to the floor, pulling off his bowtie in the process too. Your eyes traced down his abs, imagining what it would feel like to rake your nails down them.

Lucas climbed onto the bed, staring hungrily at you. You pulled him closer, intent on kissing him again, but he shook his head and stopped you before you could. “Take off your dress,” he said. You pouted slightly but obeyed, slowly easing the purple garment off your body.

As you began to pull down your socks, Lucas placed a hand on your thigh. “Leave them on,” he said with a sly grin. Lucas stroked the bare skin of your tummy, the rough pads of his fingers leaving a fiery trail from your navel, sneaking dangerously lower.

Just as his hand reached the lace of your underwear, you heard a wail from the next room. Your hand quickly clasped his and halted his actions. Urging Lucas to be quiet, you strained to listen more closely. “That sounds like Nara,” you said, the concern evident in your voice.

Lucas pushed your hand off his and continued to tug down your underwear. “Wait!” you said, grabbing his hand again, “She must be having a nightmare.”

“She’ll be fine, just forget about her…” Lucas said, paying no attention to the worry spreading across your face.

“Forget about her? Are you being serious?” you snapped, staring at him incredulously. Lucas stared back at you blankly, his large eyes wide.

You shoved Lucas off you and left the bed, the mood shattered. "You’re just gonna leave me like this?" he asked, which only made you more annoyed.

You pulled a dressing gown over your exposed body. You expected Lucas to be different, but you should have known better.

“Maybe you should just get out of here,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

Without waiting for a response, you left the bedroom and walked into your daughter’s room. Nara was sat on the bed, tears rolling down her chubby cheeks. “It’s ok baby, it’s just a dream,” you said, wrapping your arms around her.

It took longer than expected to calm Nara down. You heard a door thud and assumed that Lucas had walked out. As Nara was drifting off, you began to regret what you had said. You had certain priorities as a mother, but how was Lucas meant to understand that? Maybe you had overreacted.

Around an hour had passed before Nara finally fell asleep, and you were sure Lucas had left by now. Not ready to face your empty bed, you went to the living room and stared out of the window down at the twinkling lights of your new city.

Lucas had been nothing but kind to you both these past fifty days, and the idea of not seeing that sweet smile again was more than you could bear.

Staring out into the night, you decided that Lucas deserved a second chance. You would make amends, starting with going over to his place first thing in the morning and talking everything over.

You rushed to your bedroom with a newfound resolve, eager to fall asleep, if it would make tomorrow come quicker. You opened your bedroom door and flicked the lights on. You gasped when you saw what was in front of you. Lucas was fast asleep on your bed. He had stayed!  

Lucas’s long tan limbs were stretched out on the duvet, and faint snores escaped his lips. Your heart swelled at the sight. You quickly dimmed the lights, not wanting to startle him.

Lucas was starting to stir. “Babe?” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes, “How is Nara? Is she alright?” he sat up, concern creasing his brow.

“She’s alright,” you said softly, walking closer towards the bed.

“I’m so sorry for earlier, I don’t know what came over me, of course I care about Nara! I- I should probably go,” Lucas blurted out.

“It’s ok baby,” you said, moving to sit on Lucas’s lap, “I don’t want you to go”.

You placed a kiss on Lucas’s neck, closing your eyes as you felt his hands hold your hips. “It’s okay, I know you care,” you mumbled into his neck.

Lucas was fully awake now, and he placed soft kisses on your fingers. At the feeling of his strong thighs under you, a wave of lust washed over you.

You carefully placed one of your hands on his thigh and stroked his skin, eyes fixed on his face to read his mood. Lucas flexed his thigh under your touch, understanding your intentions.

“How about we finish what we started?” you whispered.

“Good idea,” Lucas said, as he pulled off your robe and pushed you down onto the bed.

[mcrmadness]

Madness draws: Behind the Scenes of the latest Farin&Bela pencil drawing.

Aka the one that’s also my icon, even when that was a big risk to take because normally I start hating the photos I have once drawn, especially if I have failed miserably. This is how the drawing itself turned out:

ATTENTION: The original post about that drawing, with better image, behind this link.

This post is solely about the process itself with lots of pictures and also plenty of gifs, because I promised to do one if people would like to see that and I got some comments saying that they’re looking forward for that. So, here’s now that post!

For starters I have to apologize for the terrible quality that is the photos. I used my phone camera only and never thought about posting them, I just took them as a reference for myself and to show the progress to a friend and only after finishing the drawing I noticed that the angle of the camera causes a huge impact on the perspective of the drawing, so I sometimes might have done useless work when I thought some perspective was wrong when it was actually the photo that was wrong and not my work! I mean, take a look at these photos of the finished piece:

You see that? I realized this when I took maybe the second photo of the Farin sheet and looked at it and couldn’t believe my eyes because I didn’t remember drawing his torsto THAT small! And then I looked at the drawing and was like “wtf???” because it looked nothing like in the photo and then it hit me...

Also, another thing that I learn was that I might need to pay more attention to the perspective of the whole thing also because when I draw, I sit at the table so I am constantly seeing the drawing from my perspective instead of looking at it from above so that’s probably also going to affect the way I draw. I try to keep that in mind in the future so I can avoid redrawing things again and again just because my perspective is different than the reference photo’s.

Also the giant forehead of Farin’s in the photo on the right might have caused me to laugh a bit too much but anyway, let’s continue~ Or more like: let’s start for real this time.

Here’s the reference photo to y’all:

What I did in photoshop was to draw a line between them to see how I can divide the photo on two A4 papers. I had been thinking about this photo for some time already because it’s one of my favorites (but now I just feel cringy looking at it after I have drawn it... goddamnit!), and I got this idea that I could try drawing it on two papers in case I fuck up so I can start over or try again without having to do twice the work! Which was actually a good decision because this was the first version of Farin:

And it was awful. I also realized I had never drawn Farin’s face from he front. I have drawn him before from the side a few times but maybe once it came out actually good so that was why I decided to do the 2 paper method - because I knew it was not going to be an easy job! Bela is relatively easy to draw so I knew already that I would not have too many problems with that one.

I struggled with Farin’s eyes the most, at first.

It took me a while to figure out how to do that white line in his lower lid. Keep in mind that this was my first face portrait in over 10 years so I was very, very rusty and I just didn’t remember how to draw like anything anymore. (The photo is tilted because Bela’s face is a bit tilted and my hand can’t draw anything that is not straight [lol] so I have to rotate the photo in order to even draw the sketch of Bela’s eyes.)

So I took my sketchbook and tried to do some eyes...

I was still struggling so much here until I remembered about blending. And I didn’t have my hopes high but grabbed the eyeshadow applicators (my fave tool for blending) anyway, and switched to my other sketchbook in case the paper was the issue and:

Blending. It was all about blending! So with that in mind, I realized I can continue and I don’t need to do these in my old way, everything doesn’t have to have a lineart done but some of the job is done not with the pencils but with the eraser.

Anyhow, the previous Farin looked really bad and was too big as well so I just discarded that and started a new sheet because the old lines were not coming off properly anymore. I don’t remember if this is the old face or new but I think this might still be the old one:

Yes it definitely is the old because look at those lines! This is the new sheet:

And in the photo you can see one of my pencils - I use Derwent Graphic pencils, it’s a 12 pencil set with very soft pencils, starting with H, F and HB and ending to 9B. With this one I used F, HB, B, 2B, 5B, 7B and 9B. The white pencil is actually my new love aka the eraser pencil Koh-I-Noor Hardmuth. It’s amazing, I recommend! I just didn’t order 10 new ones this other day. I actually used about 1,5 full eraser pencils on this drawing alone so that’s why 10.

Here’s a “little” gif of the process on Farin:

I felt crazy when I went for the shirt, and I felt like I was going crazy MEANWHILE drawing it but in the end I did it and I’m super proud of it!

Below is the reference photo, it was pain in the ass to follow all those lines with my eyes and try to find what was I drawing and where was I but I think I did good. That was a fun challenge.

Okay so, when I was done with the new lineart, I decided to go for the shading and blending because that’s what really makes the drawings to pop. I started with the left (his right, my left) side of Farin’s face because I’m right-handed, and in the first photo I had done just the left (right) eye and mouth and nose, but in the second there’s also the other eye done already:

Keep in mind this was not the last time I drew the eyes. Not even close.

Something was off with the right (left) eye so I had to do that one again and I noticed that when you blend but haven’t erased and cleaned it yet, it looks like a black eye :DDD So here’s the before and after images of that cleaning. (Cleaning = I draw, blend, erase, draw and blend more when needed and then erase again, and repeat this as many times as I need until it starts to look ready to my eye.)

So here Farin was “finished” but if you still remember the final piece or compare it to it, you might notice it looks quite different. And you’re right. But more about that later, because at this point I started to work on Bela.

It actually started really well - I also had to do the whole lineart again because it did not match the size of “finished” Farin. I don’t remember if this is the first or second eye but when I had drawn his eye for the first time, I noticed it was not in line with Farin so I had to redraw it. A gif of the progress:

What’s that brown paper I’m using, you may ask? Well I noticed that people have some sort of paper on top of their art to keep it from smudging and I have no clue what that is so here’s my poor artist recommendation: baking paper! I tested it and it works (if you just remember to keep it under your hand, that is...) so that is, in fact, baking paper! :DD

I have drawn Bela’s face a few times before and he’s just so much easier to draw. In fact I used 4-5 days on Farin but I managed to start and finish (this version of) Bela just in one day. And that means that out of 12 hours (because I literally used the whole day for drawing) I used maybe like... 5h or something on Bela. That’s how much easier he really is to draw.

I don’t know wtf is wrong with Farin’s face but he’s extremely difficult to draw and I’m not the only one who has been saying this. I guess he just looks so regular but still unique enough to be difficult to draw. Bela then again has features that are very unique and very... caricature-like? I mean that just by drawing his nose or chin you can make a comic book Bela look exactly like himself, and with more realistic style his eyes already do a lot, but Farin’s really the opposite. My comic book version of Farin is literally the most basic version I can draw, it’s how I draw those characters and the only thing that makes him look himself is the hair, and his nose in a side profile. So I think that’s why it’s so difficult to draw him because he doesn’t look too regular but still regular enough to make is a very challenging task to do properly.

So yeah, the same day as I started working on Bela, I was also “finished” with the drawing:

Also look at how different it looks like from this perspective:

With the reference photo open in photoshop and I don’t understand how Bela looks more like himself in my drawing than in the photo. Also when I showed the WIP to my brother, he said that I somehow had succeeded at making Farin look more like Farin than what he does in the photo even. It’s weird.

But we were still far from finished. I was going to use the fixative on this soon but it just kept snowing the whole week so I couldn’t so every time I walked past the drawings, I stopped to fix this and that. For days I kept telling myself “I’m done, I can’t do more than this, I can’t do better than this.” and considered the drawing finished but still kept fixing things. Every time I was “done” with the other drawing, I saw something to fix in the other one and once that was done, I felt like the first one wasn’t as good and had to fix something from it too. And that led to a cycle where the other drawing was always better than the other and the worse one needed to be fixed. In the end I was hating the whole process and myself and my skills and I was already ready to abandon this whole thing and call it a day and never ever show it to anyone “because I cannot draw”. The photo above, here’s a list of things I redrew after that:

Bela’s eyes, the right (left) one at least twice.

Bela’s nose.

Bela’s mouth a couple of times.

Farin’s eyes x588045028520

And a list of things I kept fixing and fixing:

Bela’s chin.

Bela’s neck shadows.

Bela’s hairline.

Farin’s whole face was tilted so I tried to fix that.

Farin’s face was too wide, which meant also partially redrawing the ear.

Farin’s hair was too long and wide too.

Farin’s nose.

Farin’s mouth might be the only thing I drew only once and I’m actually still extremely proud of how it came to be. I did the lips solely with blending so that was super exciting to notice how I can use it for drawing and don’t need the pencils for everything!

During Bela’s eyes and nose and mouth especially I was hating myself so much and I felt like I was taking the risk of ruining the whole thing and a few times I was certain that was what I had just done too, until I somehow was able to save it again. But because of that, I wasn’t able to make Bela’s mouth any lighter anymore, the color wasn’t just coming off the paper so had to use what was there and make it look like it’s how it’s supposed to be, too.

Here’s a gif about those changes on Bela - the first one has the old eyes and nose, the others have minor changed on the nose and mouth:

(The blacks probably don’t get any blacker in reality, I did add more color to it all the time but mainly it’s just the lighting and my phone camera changing the brightness.)

I did the final details on his nose without even using the reference photo anymore. The photo didn’t seem to make any sense anymore at all so I was just using my mechanical pencil and the blending tool and eraser to make is look better. To my eye it looked more like a very flat nose with a big tip of the nose and he doesn’t have a flat nose and I tried to get rid of that illusion. I still feel like it makes him look bit weird but I’m not entirely sure how. Maybe it was because of my improvisation, idk...

So, Bela was then finally finished for the last time. In the Farin piece his left (right) eye had been bugging me the whole time and I didn’t want to touch it but still I felt like I have to do something about it because it was bugging me way too much. I then figured I could draw the eye line by line and take a photo of it each time to see if it looks right already or not, maybe I could then avoid doing all the phases before I was sure what to think about it. I mean, now the only way to see if it was correct was to draw e.g. an eye from start to finish, I couldn’t see from just the lineart or unblended eye if it was in the right spot etc. And here’s that progress on a gif:

The gif about only the eye would look so nice if Tumblr didn’t make the gifs so HUGE - this one is actually only 300px or 400px or something:

Apparently I also wasn’t happy with the other eye because:

But good thing is: I really enjoy drawing eyes. I love seeing them to “come alive”, my favorite part was to eraser a bit of the color on the iris to make them look like they are actually shiny! It feels like something so small to do and yet it makes a huge impact on the drawing!

And here’s yet another gif of the whole Farin sheet with all of the changes, including the last changes that made his head narrower, and less tilted and more in line. Look at the left side of his head especially to see that:

I can also see his nose changing between the first few photos. I keep forgetting about that but yeah, I also fixed that a little at some point.

And last but not least, the whole drawing in some sort of a timelapse gif:

Last two are the same but just a photo and the scan of the finished drawing. I still keep seeing things I would do differently but no can do, I already used fixative on it, also to keep myself from obsessing with it any more :D And to use it as a study of some sort. I have never been able to draw a perfect pencil drawing and this isn’t one either. I probably never can draw perfect drawings from references.

I do enjoy the whole shading and blending process, so much so that when I was editing these photos, I just wanted to start drawing something so bad but I also figured that I start to lose motivation when I get to the point where everything should be finished but I just can’t make it perfect. Like the current WIP I have, all I should do is to get the proportions and perspective and the lines of their faces correctly and I would be ready but it feels more like a superpower some people possess and I’m not one of those. I don’t know what is it but I just feel that I cannot see. I don’t know how to explain it, but I can’t see what I try to do and somehow keep drawing everything the wrong way. Just like in this post’s drawing too. There’s still things that are wrong and I know what it is but I don’t know how to solve it. My hands just don’t listen to me and they can’t do what I think they should. I also think the reason I cannot draw perfect copies of photos is because you can always see my “handprint” in them. If I copy a photo, it will look like a photo and not like a drawing made by me. So I believe that in my drawing there’s always a part of me visible and I’m not entirely sure if it’s a good thing or not. On bad days it’s not a good thing, obviously. On good days? Well I guess it’s good then because it just means I have my own style which I really should appreciate. But I wish I had my style only when I want it to be visible, but I can’t control it. Just like I cannot write text by hand that would look like it was written with a computer, so I guess I should just try to get used to it, no matter how much it’d bug me sometimes.

[brideofcthulhu10]

I know I ask alot but could you do a story about the reader getting kidnapped and being held hostage against the boys as black mail or something and the boys coming to save them.

Don't even worry about it! I don't want any of you to feel guilty about multiple asks, there are no limits! Ask as much as you want.

So this is a bit rough, but I will defend my portrayal of the Frog Brothers. Remember they were willing to stake Star and Laddie TWICE, even when they were helping them, just because they were half vampires. A girl and a little boy were still a threat. With that being said, I hope you still enjoy

Taken from Your Bed

Fem!Reader x Poly! Lost Boys

CONTENT WARNING: Blood, Gore, Offensive Language, Subjects of Torture

The idea of a polyamorous relationship was something you had never considered in 17 years of living. The whole idea sounded so complex, sharing someone you loved with multiple people, or multiple people sharing and loving you? It just sounded like a huge mess.

 But when it came down to it, you could never choose between the beautiful vampires that had become absolutely smitten with you. What had started as a summertime time fling with the youngest and most perfect glam rocker, Paul, had evolved into a blossoming romance with his brothers. Late summer nights of riding through wind-warped beach dunes and cool morning naps were your new life. Your house had never really felt like a home even before you were coaxed into the arms of your blood sucking princes, and soon you just stopped coming back. Honestly they didn't even look for you. You'd be eighteen soon, you had graduated early from high school, there wasn't exactly much else to be done. It wasn't a surprise that your family was indifferent, you always questioned whether or not your parents had even wanted children. So, in the dark of the night they swooped in, liberating them of your belongings, and your presence. No note, no farewell, just an empty room with empty drawers.

Some days it would depress you. The subtle rejection hurt, but those days never lasted long. Any signs of tears and they'd be piling on you with a plethora of love. Paul would always remind you it didn't matter. You were with them now! Anyone else can burn in hell. The old cove where Star had slept was made up for you. They were more than happy to trash anything belonging to that treacherous girl. Battery powered fairy lights were hung across worn wooden bed posts, streams of colorful curtains kept you well shielded from any intruders, a mountain of stuffed toys from various trips to the boardwalk decorated the floor and your bed. They even managed to dig up a dusty old dresser for you clothes, and amongst your glamourous new cave dwelling, more often than not at least one of the boys would share the bed with you. On special occasions they'd all fall asleep with you in the middle between piles of plushies and pillows. Each one loved to spend time with you on and off the boardwalk. 

Marko was up for absolutely anything as long as he could be with you. You'd read out chapters of The Outsiders while he burrowed in your lap, just entranced by your soothing voice. He'd beg you to sing to him, just to get a glimpse of what that entailed. You could sound like a dying seagull and he'd still call it a serenade. On lazy days he would let you practice painting his nails when you got bored, or brush his hair. That was his favorite. Paul would whine that he wants his hair brushed too, only for David to interject that it's his turn next. Yes, even David loves having your attention on him. When you aren't sitting pretty in his lap, he's laying lazily against you while you run your fingers through snowy blonde hair. If you get him relaxed enough he'll let out a low, growling hum. You started calling it a sleepy bear sound. Your time with David was often mellow, wrapped in his arms while he read. Eventually you'd grow curious and peek at the pages, asking him to read out loud. "Only for you kitten." He'd whisper.

Dwayne could braid your hair for hours, telling you old stories his granny would tell him passed on from centuries. Your favorite is the wendigo, the story of settlers driven to cannibalism after being trapped in a cruel winter, doomed to roam as superhuman beasts. It makes you wonder if what they had seen were ancient vampires? He'd chuckled, throwing in a casual "maybe" then ask if you wanted feathers woven in your hair as well. Uh, yes please! Dwayne always made sure you were taking care of yourself. If you hadn't eaten that day it was suddenly top priority. He'll remind you the importance of 7 cups of water a day, plenty of rest- until you point out he does none of that. He'd then argue he's undead, that doesn't count. 

When Paul had his turn he'd be ecstatic. You'd both head bang to blasting music off the rock box, fix each other's hair in wild teased messes, sneak in a bit of heavy petting. Watching tv became a staple thanks to some rusty generator you "found" on a fisherman's boat after he… disappeared under mysterious circumstances. With a bowl of popcorn he'll pop in a scary movie, savoring those jumps that made you hide in his chest. It was too adorable! As soon as the other boys saw you two watching a film they'd all join and Paul would huff about his private time being commandeered. 

Even with all of this, you had still decided to remain human much to their dismay. It wasn't that you didn't want to be a vampire. But after the Frog Brothers nearly wiped them out, the boys needed someone to be a daytime watch guard. You weren't supposed to fight anyone, just raise an alarm if there were trespassers. The thought of that made you pout. It's not like you couldn't handle yourself. Sure you weren't Bruce Li, but you had a few street brawl victories under your belt. You could certainly handle those Frog dorks.

 Or so you had thought. 

That night you were absolutely positive no one had seen you, you certainly weren't supposed to be seen. It was 4:35 am, almost the entire boardwalk was scattered by now with most of the families long gone home. The lights were being shut off, rides had been closed hours ago. Only a few party animal adults still lingered at the bars making last calls, lazily returning to their beds after a draining night. A dense fog had started to roll in, coating the moon and beach in a haze. The foreboding swoon promised possible rain the following day. Taking advantage of the ethereal beauty the night was, you had lured two absolutely wasted surfer guys that had been stumbling across the boardwalk now eagerly following you through the misty sands expecting a night of thrills once you reached the caves. Calmly humming, you dragged your toes over the damp sands while wisps of ocean waves tempted to reach your feet. At the last stretch you waded through the shallows, cautiously climbing up onto slick mossy rocks when you reached the mouth of the cave. "C'mon boys. My friends are just dying to meet you," you purred. 

The high fives and penis innuendos were short lived when a flurry of dark figures swooped them into the air. You simply say atop the wet rocks with your knees delicately held against your chest. The screams and gurgled cries were lost to the ocean, and soon a familiar face poked from above looking into the cave. 

"Peek-a-boo," Marko teased, hanging off the roof of the cave before swinging next to you. "Have I ever told you, you have awesome taste in meals for a human?"

"Is that you, or the boozey blood talking," you asked with a giggle, smearing the blood off his cheeks to steal a quick kiss.

"Bow don't go taking all of her, Marko." You looked up, watching David swoop in coated in bloody stains with Paul and Dwayne trailing behind. 

"Sorry I could only bring you five people tonight guys, the fog coming in scared off whatever was left on the boardwalk. I barely caught those last two leaving the bar."

"Don't even kitty-cat, you already brought us way more than we expected," Paul protested, hanging on your shoulders from behind. 

Dwayne nodded, still leaning up against the soggy cave. "Five is enough to keep us full, princess, you did plenty." 

So with another successful night of feeding the boys were left ready to rest as 5 am rolled around. The sun tempted to rise before they had reached the cave, the boys slipping away to their dark hovel after giving you a mess of good night, or rather, good morning kisses. Although you often went to bed shortly after a night out, this morning you felt a surge of energy keeping you up. Thankfully it was a gloomy grey sky, causing minimal sunlight to burst through the slivers and cracks leaving the possibility still open that one of them would come to sleep beside you. Until then you chiseled away the boredom with a pair of headphones and a pile of comic books, flipping through the pages with eager anticipation for the next scene. Two hours barely dragged by, leaving you rolling over your bed in misery. Staring at the ceiling you debated sneaking into the cave. Maybe drag a blanket and a pillow, cuddle up on the ledge.. and then David would give you an earful for not only sleeping where you could fall but climbing through the tunnels. Oh well. It was only- 7:30 am. Perhaps you should spend the day out? But, something felt off. 

You sat up, pulling off your headphones trying to listen for anything out of the ordinary. There was a disturbing still to the room, even the ocean sounded distant.

 Then without warning, a firm hand clamped over your mouth from behind. You tried to wildly thrash and scream, but the sounds were heavily muffled under the thick layers of a towel. There seemed to be another who was running in front of you to grab at your wild legs still getting in every possible hit you could. They were whisper-yelling, demanding you keep your voice down. To hell with that! You managed to kick one in the face! The struggle dragged out for easily five minutes by this point. It always seemed to work faster in fiction, instead it dragged out for what felt like forever. The scent burned your lungs, it was getting harder to breathe, your resistance wavered as the drag of exhaustion continued to claw at your eyes. Your violent thrashing became a few heavy swings of your shoulders, until you could barely move anymore. It was impossible to fight the monstrous sleep they forced you into. Your body dropped into unconsciousness, finally able to breathe as you slipped away in the darkness.

Marko stirred in his sleep, swearing he could hear you screaming just outside. It wasn't until he opened his eyes that he was able to relax. Quiet as the day is long. It must've been his imagination. 

Flutters of light faded in and out of your peripheral vision. The more you saw, the more you heard. Two grumbling voices bickering back and forth. 

"- I say we should just ice her now!"

"Not until we can smoke the rest of 'em out! A vampire rarely travels alone these days! The rest of them won't kill us as long as we have her!"

A verbal groan alerted their attention towards you as you shifted in place. It was still daytime, maybe mid afternoon? You honestly couldn't tell. When you tried to sit up you felt a sharp, worn resistance that kept your arms firmly in place. The rope rubbed your wrists raw. Your boots couldn't get any traction on the floor, it was covered in dust and old hay. Finally you were able to see those responsible for your capture. 

"Oh you have got to be kidding," you announced, glaring at the two camo-clad brothers posing like suburban commandos. This was some old dusty barn, and you were kidnapped by the self proclaimed vampire hunters of Santa Carla, the Frog Brothers, Edgar and Allan. Typical.

"So, you guys have gone from murder to kidnapping. Well, I guess that's progress."

"The only murderer here is you, blood sucker," Edgar gruffly retorted, pointing a freshly sharpened stake in your face.

"Vampire? I'm in the sun you idiot!"

"We all know about you half bloods being in sunlight, you can't fool us." You didn't even realize the tall one spoke. His sneering upper lip wouldn't cease to display the disgust he held against you. 

"You two must be sniffing too much old newsprint," you snorted. "There's no such thing as vampires."

That's when Edgar got close, tilting your chin up with the stake. "We saw you drawing those civilians to the cave for your little monster buddies." 

His words hit you heavily. You were certain you had been careful, utterly positive. Instead not only had you been tailed, you had exposed the boys to a group of radical nutcases ready to kill. Now it was personal. Steeling your resolve, you took in a deep breath. "So what?"

Allan yanked you by your shirt, looking back into your eyes with his own hate. "Where are the others," he hissed. 

With everything you had you tilted your head back and bashed your forehead against his. The force made your ears ring. They always did it in the movies, but no one ever said just how much it hurt. There was a dull sting where your skull had taken the brunt end of the attack while it traveled all the way to the back, a small trickle of what you could only assume was blood dripping off your forehead. Meanwhile the teen had fallen onto his back atop the filthy floor still grasping his forehead with a groan, Edgar jumping up over Allan ready to drive that stake into your heart. 

"No!" Allan grabbed his brother by his shirt, just before it came inches to your heart. "We need her alive… for now."

With a smirk you sloshed around the spit in your mouth. As soon as Edgar turned to face you, you sent the congealed saliva in a forceful blast across. Direct hit. Edgar wiped away the disgusting phlegm off his eyes and in his rage quickly uncapped a bottle of holy water. Yes, a full water bottle of it, and doused you in it. 

Great. Now you were tied up. bleeding, AND WET. You gave them a disinterested glare, cocking an eyebrow. "So, again, not a vampire. Believe me now?"

The two looked at each other and quickly huddled. They would mutter amongst themselves, occasionally peeking above to glare at you and your rolling eyes. Alright, so you were human. Even a head vampire couldn't be out in daylight, and half vampires couldn't handle holy water. But in a way that only made it worse! A living servant of the undead, a spy to lure helpless victims into their grasp, a caretaker of evil! A traitor to your own kind! That settled it then.

Groaning even grew tiresome by this point. You tried to wiggle out of your crude bonds, but you had to give them some semblance of credit, this was a damn good knot!

"Alright," Edgar boomed, catching you off guard. "You may be a human, but any ally of the undead is still an enemy, and we're not showing you an ounce of mercy!"

Allan nodded, and suddenly the atmosphere took a turn for gloomy. He watched with disinterest as you tried to wedge your heel into the ground to scoot away from them but it seemed to have no use. The struggle had you thrashing until you lost balance, flopping over on your side. He stomped over and wrenched you up by your shirt, this time keeping a cautious distance from your head.

 "If they're keeping you alive.. they must think you have some sort of value." Alan finally knelt down to your level with your shirt still clutched in his left hand, brandishing a hunting knife with the right. The glint of it shined in your eyes in a cruel afternoon glow. In its looming reflective surface you could see your own e/c eyes as wide as saucers. They didn't see you as human. You were an ally of their greatest enemy, just as "evil" as the vampires they were so determined to hunt. Being human was no longer a bargaining chip to prevent injury. "Call to them."

Your teeth ground until they hurt, jaw locked in place. "Go to fucking hell," you hiss. 

Before you could land another blow to Allan's smug face, Edgar had grabbed you from behind to keep you in place. The blade lightly caressed the flesh of your upper arm, catching the folds of your skin leaving tiny knicks. It tempted the surface to break beneath it's cruel will as Allan repeated his command through gritted teeth. "Call. Them."

Threats of torture weren't enough to break your silence. Fine, so be it. The tip dug into your arm, skin peeling away in a stream of ruby leaving a trail behind. You sucked in a sharp hiss, but bit on your tongue before you could yelp.There was no way you'd let them get to the boys. If you had to die so they could live, so be it. You wouldn't let out so much as a whimper. Do your worst.

Late afternoon dragged out, clinging tightly to every ticking second until the sun gave way under its own weary weight. The moment night lifted, crowing hoots echoed the cave. Freedom at last! Paul swung out of the cave brimming with excitement, Dwayne flying out behind him and crashing onto a couch leaving a cloud of dust for him to sneeze out. David was the last to waltz out, looking towards your corner. Odd. You were usually the first up to greet them. It'd become almost expected by this point. Sensing David's confusion along with his own, Marko gleefully jumped down from the rafters over debris to reach your bed. Someone was certainly sleeping in!

"Y/N? C'mon baby girl, wake up! Time for..," he paused, pulling away the curtains to find your bed a disheveled mess. Your cassette tape had been eaten to shreds by your portable player, magazines and books thrown on the floor, wads of sheets kicked off topped by discarded plushies. "Guys, c'mere!"

Dwayne quickly jumped up, expecting you to be snuggled in bed like a baby bird in its nest. Instead he stood beside Marko and looked past the curtains at the disarray your little corner had become.

 "Since when does Y/N go out this late at night," Paul questioned from behind the two. Whoa, did a tornado come through here? He hopped over, pulling the trashed tape from your player. 

"She doesn't," David said slowly, a flood of concern spilling into his head. Fully pushing the curtains away they all stepped in, looking for any sign of where you had gone.

Paul managed to wedge out the mess of black threading and plastic, getting a good look at what you had been listening to. Def Leppard's Hysteria Album. He had scrounged up some dough a few months ago for your birthday, you guys spent the whole weekend listening to it. For some reason you liked their gifts even more when they didn't just steal them. This was your favorite thing from him.. you'd never just leave it in the player to get trashed. "Dude what happened here?"

 David lifted your blankets, noticing an unfamiliar scent intruding over your delicate aroma. Someone else had been here. Someone who shouldn't have been here.

Marko was able to catch whiff of a gnarly chemical scent, bitter. Crouching down, it was almost missed. Amongst your belongings was an unfamiliar towel stained with some sort of fluid. Peeling the soggy rag off the ground he took a whiff and immediately scrunched up his nose. "Hey, David, man. Smell this. Is it familiar?"

David caught the drenched towel tossed his way and barely had to smell it to recognize the stench. Throwing it down he began storming out, standing in the center of the room trying to listen for your heartbeat. None. 

"What is it? Where is she," Paul demanded. This was getting to be too much. 

"This isn't a coincidence boys," David hissed, looking their way. "Someone took Y/N. That rag was drenched in some sort of concentrated chemical."

The boys grew solemn, David's words setting into each of them. Paul was enraged, already his red eyes seeping through. How dare anyone take you from him! He'll rip them apart!

Marko's silence held a cruel storm ready to burst, biting on his thumb to stifle any unsteady rage. All he could picture were horrid images of you being hurt. Fear and guilt overwhelmed him. That wasn't a dream, he really had heard you earlier crying for help. The shame of it made him clench his eyes shut. A cacophony of blame riddled his heart knowing you had been taken just beneath their noses. He shouldn't have left you alone, he should have checked on you the moment he thought something was wrong!

Dwayne stood in silence, slamming his fist against the wall. Crumbles of concrete dusted his busted knuckles that quickly healed in place. You were supposed to be theirs, and he failed to protect you! "We have to find her," he choked out, pushing a mess of black hair from his furrowed brow. The not knowing was killing him. It was killing all of them. You weren't just missing, you were stolen while they slept only feet away. 

Even David felt an internal rage unlike anything he'd felt before, not only at the perpetrators, but at himself. A beast among men, eternal life with a bounty of strength worth a thousand. What fucking good was it when while he slept you were torn from your bed? But another thought sat heavy in his heart. Their hearing was impeccable, damn near perfect. Why hadn't you called them? A scream, a cry would be enough! He began to march over to your bed again, but a new perspective had just granted him a moment of clarity. Hidden just under your blankets was a broken strip of red cloth one could only assume was a headband. Clasped tightly in vengeful fists, David's eyes turned bloodshot. He knew exactly who took you. 

You weren't even sure how many hours had gone by at this point. The brother's grew restless at your resolve. While they regrouped in the corner to reevaluate their plan, you had found a nail jutting out from the floorboards to scrape your ankles on, slowly sawing away the worn rope that kept your legs together. Any movement stung. Cuts decorated up your exposed thighs and arms. Fresh blood caked over dried wounds, dirt became mud by this point from the excessive wounds and had smeared up your legs. They had conflicting feelings about throwing any swings your way. You were surprised to hear Edgar verbally voice his hesitations regarding unleashing a blow on a girl. Allan stepped in, but came to the same conclusion that he couldn't hit you. Well, after four good catches to your face. Utterly moronic, a knife was far more painful. Perhaps it gave them some sort of distance from you, punching was just too personal. Still, your busted lip was not appreciative of the last minute sentiment. Part of you wanted to mock them. If you're going to kidnap and torture someone go all the way at least, don't puss out half way through. But, you had other plans. You rapidly ran the rope across the nail while they bickered back and forth, nearly there.. and then you heard a massive thud land on the roof. 

No. No not yet. You quickly dragged your feet as fast as you could while the brothers flew into a panic. But now your feet were free. Using your knees you hoisted yourself up to the nail, rapidly dragging your arms across to saw the straw away. Edgar and Allan began checking each other for weapons, and right as the rammed into the door again your wrists came free. Right!

You dashed for the brothers, snatching the bottles of water and dumping out every drop into the ground. They ran to grab you as you tried to bolt out the door, almost able to see Marko in the air above when suddenly someone had grabbed a fistful of your hair. That was enough to make you scream. A chunk was ripped from your scalp, the rest still tightly grasped in Edgar's fist. 

David watched you bolt out the rickety old barn, ready to fly down to you until they caught you in their grasp. Paul didn't even hesitate once they snatched you back, that is until he caught sight of a shimmering glare wedged tightly against your throat. 

"Get back," Edgar demanded, twisting your arm. The pain rang up through your back to the point you feared your shoulder was being pulled out of place. Your breathing began to become shallow when something cold slid on your throat, Edgar's free hand pressing the blade to your throat so tightly a thin line formed beneath it. 

"You're fucking dead, you little shit," Marko hissed, jumping off the tin roof. 

"M-Marko," you whimpered. You didn't dare move an inch. 

"Back off death breath! Or your little pet becomes your next meal!"

With that warning Edgar tilted the blade just beneath your chin. 

You tried to pull your head back to keep your distance from the foreboding piece, looking at Marko with fear. 

"I'm sorry…"

Marko took a step back, unsure of how to approach this. Any moves he made could result in you being taken. He could see the barrage of wounds coating your skin. It made his shoulders shake, just aching to rip this punk's head off. 

From inside the barn Dwayne hovered over the rafters, shattering the bulb that provided the only light in the room. Left in the dark, Allan grasped at the wooden stake in his hand. He could hear Dwayne rapidly flying through the barn, but he could never move fast enough to see him. "Come out you coward!" 

Allan's scream alerted Edgar to his brother, turning his head just soon enough to watch him bled dry. Dwayne pried his fangs from the limp teen with a disgusted snarl in the dark, chucking the corpse at his brother's feet.

"NOOOOO!"

You took the chaos as an opportunity to escape, knocking his hand off of you and trying to bolt forward. Paul flew to snatch you, his hands tightly wrapped around yours when he heard the most hideous sound. Flesh tearing, bones cracking under the pressure with squelches of blood pittering down into the ground. His fingers trembled watching your delicate face drop in horror.

Edgar stood behind, only seeing the red of his rage as he drive the knife further into the small of your back. "Die you witch bitch!"

Those were his last words as David jutted his hand through Edgar's chest. You screamed in horror watching Edgar barely have a reaction to his own heart being held outside his body, collapsing into a hollow husk of flesh. What air you had was rapidly escaping your lungs, falling in a cascade into Paul's arms. 

"No, no no! Y/N!" He dropped to his knees, holding you tightly against him. David knelt down beside you two, Marko running and skidding on his knees beside you while Dwayne leaned over you. They were all holding back tears, David's hand brushing over the hilt of the knife still jutting out. 

"I'm so sorry," you hiccups between tears, fingers tangled in Paul's jacket. "I co-couldn't… let them g-get you."

Marko shushed you, running his fingers through your hair. "Its okay baby girl, we know. Just hang on, okay?"

David wedged you into a sitting position onto his knees, looking at Paul. "As soon as I pull," he began, pushing your hair away from your neck ", you bite."

The suggestion sent chills through you. "B-but.."

"Y/N, kitten, it's right through your lumbar artery," David whispered softly, lightly tapping the hilt with his gloved hand sending a dull pain through your entire back. "This has gotta come out. But when I pull it out, you could bleed to death."

"Please don't leave us, baby girl." Marko held your hand, looking at you in fear. He wasn't ready to lose you. None of them were. If you had to turn to stay with them, they'd do it in a heartbeat. 

With a slow breath in, you hugged yourself against David and closed your eyes. Paul moved beside your neck as instructed, but Dwayne and Marko each took one of your wrists in their grasp. They all wanted to turn you. "O..okay.. d-do it.."

David kissed your cheek softly, clutching his hand around the knife. It hardly put up any resistance against his vampiric strength. You, on the other hand, couldn't help but cry out. Tears flooded your face, nails dragging against David's jacket. When they could see the tip of the blade surface, Paul dove his fangs into your shoulder. David bit into the left side of your neck, while Marko and Dwayne tore into your wrists. What should take hours only took moments. 

Marko held onto you, closing his eyes tightly trying to muscle through your agonized cries before pulling his mouth off. Tears spilled from Paul's eyes, tearing away before he lost control. The taste of your bittersweet blood lingered on his tongue. Dwayne and David held you in place, and finally you had felt your heart stall, then stop. 

You didn't need to catch your breath anymore, there was no longer any breath left to catch. "I'm sorry… I'm so so sorry,:" you whimpered, buried against David's chest. "Th-they had holy water, they were going to ambush you… I-I couldn't risk it.."

"No more, kitten," David shushed, holding your head on his chest. 

"Don't worry about it princess." Dwayne ran his hands over your hair, kissing the top of your head. "This won't happen again."

"We are never letting you out of our sight again," Marko cooed, nuzzling your hand against his face. Paul gently kissed your available cheek, looking up at the black sky shifting to grey. "Guys, the sun's comin' up."

"So it is." David lifted you bridal style into his arms, kissing you softly. "Let's get you home babygirl. Tonight we'll take you out for your first hunt, but for now, you need your rest."

A burst up wind carried you off into the air, holding on tightly to David as he flew you over the ocean, above the clouds, back to the safety of the hotel. Your home. Forever.

[aracaeli]

The Sign of Three

NOTE: Merry Christmas @elfchensdcartblog from your DCMK secret santa!! I’m sorry for posting it at the last minute possible, I should probably have said Happy New Year instead. Here is my humble gift to you. Also, I’m sorry for not writing it with the accent. Regular english still gives me trouble and I’m not sure I’m capable of writing it right. Big thanks to @dcmksecretsanta for hosting he event.

I’m really rusty, but actually making this gift is more fun than I imagined. I forgot how soothing writing can be. Please forgive any mistake I made, happy reading! ^^

----The Sign of Three----

“You know, this is a very bad idea.” Heiji said to Kazuha for the sixth time that day. He’s practically sulking by now. On default, Heiji is not a big fan of malls. Much less going to a mall two days before Christmas. Suffice to say, the place was packed. People are everywhere. There’s people who are getting their christmas shopping late, young couples celebrating christmas together, or just some rando who had the bright idea to come to the mall near christmas. The mall even blasted out “We Wish You a Merry Christmas'' in every speaker on loop. Heiji swears if he finds the person responsible for that song that guy will have to answer to him.

Kazuha however is chipper as ever. She ignored his comment and instead was busy looking at toy displays in front of her while whistling along on the christmas song. Heiji wouldn’t even be here if Kazuha had not dragged him out. Heck, he wouldn’t even leave the house if it weren’t for her. His plan is to stay at home and do some reading, maybe go out for a bit to get food, but that’s it.

Kazuha apparently had other plans for him. She insisted on making him come with her to her class christmas event today and accompany her to do last minute shopping for the kids. Apparently the school wanted the students to celebrate Christmas by making a christmas event where the kids can play and exchange gifts. Only, the actual event is two days early from christmas because the kids will be celebrating with their own family on the actual christmas.

The idea is stupid. Heiji said as much.

He gets smacked in the head for that. Heiji had tried to lie his way out, but Kazuha immediately saw through him.

And that’s another weird thing about Kazuha lately. They had been married a while, but Heiji was sure that her changes only occurred recently.

Lately, she seems to become more observant. She often notices small things that she didn't notice before. Normally if someone moved her pen when she was away, she wouldn’t notice, but now she was able to tell the exact distance of the pen’s displacement. 

Another weirdness is, she woke up by the slightest noise. Before when Heiji had to stay late because of work, he was able to get to their bed without waking her. Now Kazuha is awake when he cracks the door open. If Heiji made a noise, she was able to tell exactly what was causing the noise, even if she was two rooms away. Heiji didn’t know what was the cause, it’s not like it’s the first time he saw that kind of ability. He had good ears, so does his father. What’s weird is that Kazuha suddenly developed one, too.

Maybe it was contagious?

Heiji shakes his head, chasing the ridiculous thoughts away. Despite Kazuha being weirdly observant, Heiji managed to secure an awesome gift for her, in his humble opinion. The subject of his musings is still shopping happily, uncharacteristically unaware of his thoughts. 

Kazuha is still looking at the display. But now she has already moved to the far end of the store. She picks up the toys one by one and assesses them carefully, as if it was important evidence on a crime scene. After a while, she held up a toy truck in front of him.

“Do you think Mikoto-kun would like this one?” Kazuha asked, holding a red toy car that resembles a fire truck. 

Mikoto is one of Kazuha's students in elementary school, who Heiji really doesn’t like. Mikoto, like most the boys in her class, had a crush on Kazuha-sensei and wanted to marry her when they grow up. Nevermind that Heiji visited the class and told them that Kazuha was already married to him.

In response to that information, Mikoto--who had the smuggest face for someone barely older than a toddler-- just looked at him from top to bottom, face clearly displaying unimpressed. “Oh well, we’ll see about that.”

The audacity.

Not caring what the brat would get for Christmas, Heiji answered shortly, “He’s a kid, that’s a toy. The math suggests that he would be thrilled.” 

He thought she would get annoyed with him, but his wife just shrugged and went back to shopping. In the end, she made a decision and took the toy to the counter to pay for it and told him to wait for her. Heiji watched her with a suspicious gaze, wondering if what meets the eye is really the truth. 

Heiji thinks it’s weird that Kazuha invited him to the event. While it’s not the first time he has come to her class and participated, it was always such a disaster. Considering what happened when he was present, he should be banned.

In his defense, it was the brat’s fault. Everytime Heiji comes to pick Kazuha up, he will ‘accidentally’ step on his foot. Kazuha makes Mikoto apologize to him of course, but the boy apologizes with a sleazy grin not fit for a child. One time, when he visited Kazuha during class, the brat ‘accidentally’ poured paint all over his shirt. Heiji tried to get back at the kid, but as if sensing his petty intention, Mikoto immediately cried.

Worse, Kazuha never sided with him. She came and comforted the kid while Heiji had to watch the kid buried his face in Kazuha’s chest while giving him the smuggest smile known to humankind. He had to bite back a curse. 

Another incident that popped in his mind is when Heiji cursed in her class, in front of the children. It was actually quite comical, the children had simultaneously stopped what they were doing and looked at him in shellshock, Heiji stood awkwardly for a minute. He was about to make a run for it. When one of the kids decided that what he had done was unacceptable on so many levels and tattled on him to Kazuha.

Kazuha had put him on time-out as if he was five despite his protest to her.

“I can’t play favour, Heiji. It’s not a good example for the kids” Kazuha said sternly while putting her hands at her hips. Long story short, he lost the debate.

He had to sit in the hallway to think about what he did while the other children peeked at him curiously from the window.

One kid even booed at him.

Yeah, it was not his proudest moment.

While he was reminiscing, Kazuha came back from the cashier, carrying one more bag in her hand. She didn’t have any trouble carrying it, but he decided to perform his duty as a good husband and took the bag from her hand. Beside, this way her hand would be free for him to hold.

Chiding himself for being sappy, Heiji linked their fingers together in a loose grip, suppressing the blush that always comes despite already being married to her. But Kazuha was having none of it today as she tightened her hand.

Kazuha leaned closer on him. Their arms linked together and her nose almost brushed his shoulder. 

“Let’s go upstairs.” Kazuha said, leading the way. As they walked side by side, she broke the silence.

“Did you finish your christmas shopping?” Kazuha asked. The mall was crowded and loud, so Heiji really had to pay attention to hear her. 

“I did. Finished it weeks ago.”

“Including my gift?”

“Yes.”

“Is it a living thing?”

“No.”

“Is it a nonliving thing?”

“We’re not playing 20 questions!”

Kazuha pouted. She bit the inside of her cheeks and turned her face away from him. Giving Heiji her side-view. And suddenly he finds himself resisting the irrational urge to kiss that protruding lips in public. Fortunately, unlike with the case of  Fairy’s lips, he still had common sense left.

“I think I know what you get me.” Kazuha said suddenly. 

Heiji gave his wife a skeptical stare, surely she was just bluffing, afterall he went through a painstaking measure to make it a surprise. He even draws a murderboard, which he hides in Kudo’s house, much to the latter dismay.

“No you don’t.” Heiji sneered.

“Hmm let’s see now,” Kazuha put her hand to her chin, mimicking his favorite pose when solving a case, complete with a smile, which may appear innocent at first but completely devious. 

“I know that you suck at handcraft. And I don’t see you working at anything, so it can’t be handmade. You said it was a non-living thing, so it can’t be a pet. Judging by how quick you are in answering my question earlier and the fact we have a joint account, it’s unlikely to be a trip or a dinner.”

Heiji started to sweat. Is this what the suspect always felt whenever he made a show of his deductions? Still, Kazuha is not done yet.

“The fact that you finished weeks ago means you had planned it for awhile. You’ve gone to Tokyo for a suspicious amount of time, it can be unrelated to gift-buying, but my instinct said it was very related. But it’s weird that you go so far just to shop, there’s plenty of places here where you can hide your gift. That suggests the involvement of an outside party. Probably a delivery. Which means…”

Kazuha added a dramatic pause.

“....it was custom-made.”

Damn. What’s gotten into her?

Still, Kazuha went for the kill, “The fact that you’re giving it to me, big chance it was a jewelry. Probably a necklace. Since you had no sense when it comes to women’s fashion, the one you custom it’s not probably the design. If my deduction is correct, that necklace would have my initial.”

Heiji completely avoided looking at her. Somehow his pride is trampled over her deductions. He had plans after all. The only solace he had was Kazuha doing all of that is kinda hot. So he let it pass.

“Am I right?”

Heiji shrugged. “I don’t know, you had to wait.”

Kazuha gives a little happy jump, almost knocking a lady that was passing by them.

“I can’t wait for a necklace with a ‘K’ pendant to come.”

Heiji nodded along with her statement. The pendant that he ordered is actually spelled ‘K.H’, since Kazuha had officially become a Hattori now. He decided to let her little mistake in detail be left uncorrected and changed the subject.

“Can we go now? I think this place is getting more packed.” Heiji said, and true to his word, someone bumped into him. Said person didn’t even apologize and just walked. 

“Hold on, I still need to buy one more for Chika-chan.”

“Huh? I thought it was a secret santa.”

“It is, but I’m buying a present for all of my students in the class.”

Heiji frowned. “Why? Isn’t that a bit much even for you? You’ll see them again next year.”

He felt her getting tense. She was looking straight ahead but he can tell that she was carefully masking her face as casual indifference.

Shrugging her shoulder, Kazuha answered, “I just want to make this year memorable.”

Heiji observed her face carefully for any clue, but sensing his curiosity, Kazuha looked back at him and feigned a smile. Deciding to not pursue it further, he noted this exchange and kept it in Kazuha’s folder, a place in his mind palace where he keeps anything related to Kazuha that he finds odd or weird. That folder had recently become thicker and thicker.

“Let’s go up one more floor, I think I see a store selling hair accessories.” Kazuha said quickly as she pulled him along by his hand to the elevator direction. Heiji followed along.

She accidentally stumbled on her steps. Delaying them for a few seconds. In consequence of that, they missed the elevator. As the door closed with a resounding ding sound. It was like a butterfly effect, the world just decide what he needs today is a murder.

If only they got on that elevator, they would have missed the shrill scream of a person discovering a dead body.

But unfortunately they did.

Knowing that scream everywhere, Heiji felt his detective sense alert in an instant. But before running off to the source of the commotion, he looked at Kazuha first, wordlessly asking for her permission.

Kazuha sighed, smiling softly, “Go”.

Heiji gave her a cheeky grin. He  handed her the shopping bags to her. Since both his hands are free, he had the chance to strike a cool pose before running off by gripping the edge of his hat and pulling the cap to the front.

“I’ll be back.”

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

In the span of time for one call to the police, five interrogations, and one person broke down crying later, Heiji managed to gather the suspects in the back of the store. The body is found in a clothing changing room. A man in his late thirties, wearing casual jeans and polo shirt. The corpse had been found laying on his back, half his body leaned on the mirror. Eyes wide and mouth wide open. Although there is no blood. 

The store owner had been very helpful in aiding his investigations. She closed the crime perimeter and helped gather witnesses. Even though she initially insisted that the man just had a heart attack, until Heiji pointed out the signs that he clearly is poisoned.

Heiji was busy doing his usual detective work that he didn’t really notice that Kazuha hadn't shown up even after thirty minutes had passed since they heard the scream.

Heiji was about to search for her, already worried that something happened to his wife. But as he was about to walk away from the crime scene, Kazuha catches up with him, completely unaware of his worry. She even brought a drink in hand  and casually sip the cold liquid from the straw while looking around the crime scene curiously. 

“Solved it yet?” She asked. Slurping the boba tea. 

Heiji was momentarily distracted by the movement of her lips. Shaking the unwanted thoughts away, he looked back at the corpse.

“Not yet. So far, here’s the situation. Someone is found dead in the changing room of this store.” Heiji gestured towards the corpse.

“No blood.” Kazuha remarked.

Heiji nodded. He feels weirdly proud that she participated in the case. He resisted the urge to pat her head, “Exactly. Death by poison.”

“Cyanide?”

“No, arsenic.”

“Who do you think did it?”

“Well, I figured out the trick, But I’m still not sure who did it.”

Kazuha nodded solemnly. Still slurping her drink. Her gaze turned towards the three people standing behind the store owner who were looking at them the whole time. The three men are the main suspects for the case. Heiji told them to stand far enough so they can’t overhear his conversation. Heiji was sure the culprit was between the man with glasses and the tall one. Although he had no evidence or any defining clue.

“The guy with the glasses seems suspicious.” Kazuha said. Leaning close to whisper in his ears. He instinctively take a step back. Typical of Kazuha to annoy him with her stupid breath and her slurping when he was in the middle of a case. 

Heiji snatched the drink from her hand. 

“How is he suspicious?” He asked, only half-interested in her answer.

“Look at the inside of his wrist.” Kazuha said confidently at first, but she suddenly turned hesitant and quickly shrugged “But, I don’t know though, you’re the Detective.”

Reluctantly, Heiji followed Kazuha's advice and focused on the man in glasses hands. 

Wait….that mark…

“I know who the killer is.”

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

An hour and half later, they finally manage to get out of the mall. Heiji was sure that they were already late to the event. Thankfully, there was no traffic on the way, so they made it to the school ground less than ten minute later. The event hasn't started yet. Most of the kids were still playing around, although Kazuha’s coworkers had pulled out various games and an assortment of christmas themed sweets out.

When Heiji and Kazuha enter the classroom. The children cheered. Immediately, she was surrounded by her students. They formed a circle around her and tried to get her attention. Looking at the spectacle before him, Heiji can’t help but note that Kazuha is really good with kids. 

Heiji put their bag on the gifts table. He searched for an empty chair to sit on. Heiji found one in the back of the room. He sits down on one of the chairs beside the low round table. Heiji was so focused that he didn’t notice someone approaching him.

“So you came.”

Heiji turned to the source of the voice. But he didn’t see anyone.

“Down here”

He looked down and his stare met with Mikoto’s gaze.

“Hey”

Mikoto only grunted. The kid pulled the chair across him and sat down. He slouched on the chair while looking around the room with bored eyes. Heiji noticed that his eyes landed on a little girl with a pigtail who was excitedly chatting with Kazuha. He looked back at the kid and the girl.

Heiji was a very observant Detective. The best in Japan. Despite what neechan said. That’s why the blush on Mikoto’s face didn’t go unnoticed by Heiji. He gave a small sigh. Kids these days, so easy to move on from one crush to another.

“Do you like that girl?” Heiji asked. One eyebrow raised suggestively. He deliberately didn’t gesture on the little girl across the room.

Mikoto looked scandalized, suddenly sitting straight with face flushed red. “What! No! Who likes Chika!?”

Heiji grinned. “I didn’t say anything about Chika-chan.”

Mikoto was about to defend himself. But no words come out. All of his face was flaming red to the tip of his ear. The blush even went up to his ears. In the end, he settled to look away instead. Sulking.

“So…” Heiji began, finding the opportunity to tease the kid highly amusing. “Do you think Chika-chan cute? What’s her deal?’

Mikoto crossed his hand in front of his chest, “She’s not cute! She’s stupid!” he stated, too loud and too defensive to be true. Some of the kids and one teacher had looked their way due to commotion. 

“Hey, stupid is a bad word.” Heiji chided. 

Mikoto was about to protest. But somehow decided against it and mumbled a low “Sorry.”

Seeing the kid actually reminded him a lot of someone. Although Heiji can’t quite recall who. “Here’s an advice, if you like her, don’t pull her pigtails.”

Mikoto, once again, flushed red. As if he was just caugh red-handed. “I don’t need your advice, I bet you also pulled Kazuha-sensei’s ponytail.”

Heiji laughed. It’s actually happened. The scene of their younger years flashed before his eyes. Kazuha used to have pigtails too when she was young and the sight of her hair swinging around as she walked always seems cute and endearing to him. Although back then he had no idea what the feeling blossomed in his chest was. 

Young Heiji never made the connection between the flutter of his heart and Kazuha’s presence. Once Heiji even thought he had heart problems. His mother laughed when he brought his concerns to her. Shizuka had said that he was healthy as a clamp and had nothing to worry about. To his embarrassment, it took him ten more years to finally understand he was in love with Kazuha.

“What are you boys talking about?”

Both of them turned around simultaneously, only to find Kazuha standing behind.

“Nothing,” Mikoto said. Kazuha looked at the two of them suspiciously. “Mikoto-kun, you should join the others. The game is about to start.”

Mikoto sends Heiji a distress signal to help him get away. But Heiji feels no remorse as he shrugged his shoulders in total betrayal.

“Mikoto-kun.” Kazuha said again, voice more stern. In the end, Mikoto sighed and walked away from the couple. Joining the merry and fun of his friends in the center of the room.

Kazuha sat on the empty chair that Mikoto left, staring at the crowd in a somewhat somber gaze, “He reminds me a lot of you.”

Heiji immediately defended himself, “What! I am nothing like that brat.”

“You two seemed to get along, though” Kazuha said.

“No, we’re not. He hates my gut. Apparently he used to have a crush on you.” Heiji added, “And just so you know, those little accidents that he did, are not an ‘accident’.”

Kazuha laughed. “I know. I just wanna show how ridiculous you are, getting jealous of kids.” Heiji opened his mouth, but she cut him off, “Don’t even try to deny it.”

Heiji blew a harsh breath. Looking around at the happy kids around him, the christmas decoration is exquisite, and the cookies smelled delicious, even from when he was sitting.

“Why do you insist I come anyway?” Heiji asked. Although he probably knows the answer. With how observant Kazuha is lately, maybe she noticed that he’s not having such a great time at work. 

But his wife is always able to surprise him. “I’m pregnant.”

Heiji gaped at her as the world turned into a standstill. Voices become mute and he swears the earth stop spinning.

Kazuha...is pregnant…

Kazuha is pregnant.

He heard the words clearly. But the meaning didn’t actually register in his head. Kazuha is pregnant? With his child….

There’s another human being that he will be responsible to. Someone who looks like him. Or maybe Kazuha. Maybe a well-behaved kid like Chika-chan or a brat like Mikoto.

What would he do if his kid makes bad choices? Or become too reckless like him?

He could feel his panic rapidly growing by the second. The thought of bringing a human life in this world is downright overwhelming. Kazuha might be good with kids, but he is not. What would he do with one? That’s easy, he should feed it. Oh God, what did you feed a kid? What does a kid even eat??

As if sensing his rapidly growing panic, Kazuha called his name. “Heiji,”

When there was no response, Kazuha grabbed his hand that was laying on the table. The contact startled him. His eyes turned to her.

“We’re gonna be fine, Heiji.” Kazuha added, “Beside, I’ve been thinking about it, and I think I want to focus on raising our family.” 

Suddenly, it made sense. Why she wants to make this year christmas with her class so memorable. The way she is acting so weird recently. There’s only one thing he can’t figure out, thought….

“I don’t get why you suddenly become so observant, is that another side effect of pregnancy?”

Kazuha stared at him in bewilderment, “What are you talking about?”

“You! You were suddenly very observant. Like a detect--” Heiji stopped mid-sentence, he abruptly stood up from the chair, knocking it backwards. As if he just received the meaning of the universe, he exclaimed:

“Oh God, our child is gonna be a detective!!”

.

.

.

A/N: And thus, Heisuke is doomed since he was a literal fetus to be a detective by his father. 

There’s a local belief in my area that when a mother is pregnant, how she behaves is influenced by the child’s personality. So if a woman often gets angry during pregnancy, that means the child is temperamental, so on. Halfway writing this, I realized that it might be too weird and specific, so I ended up rewriting it into a more general trope. Although dumbass me misread the fact that Kazuha is elementary teacher-to-be, not elementary teacher. Still, I hope you accept this as a humble sort-of-headcanon to your Heisuke AU.

I actually really like the concept of the AU, I had to refrain myself from liking and reblogging all the posts because then you would have easily figured out that I’m your Secret Santa (lol). Can’t wait to see your next works. Good luck and Merry Christmas! ^^

[getcooler]

9 Ways to Say I Love You

Johnny Seo (NCT) x Reader

Word Count: 3,4K

Genre: fluff with like one scene of angst

Synopsis: Nine ways Johnny has shown his love to you without directly saying he loved you and the one time you returned the favour.

No train of thought in your head, no hesitation in your movements, you pressed send. Another meme sent boyfriend’s way at 3 am. He wouldn’t know what time it was where you were - he was across the ocean anyways. 

Or so you thought. 

Your phone began to vibrate. A photo of him appeared on your screen. With a sigh, you answered the call.

“Why haven’t you gone to sleep yet?” he sounded half-way amused, half-way worried sick. “Don’t you have work tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow? No.”

Johnny let out a noise of loud and obvious confusion before asking, “Wait, what? I’m pretty sure you’re working tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow’s my day off,” you chuckled at your own joke. “I do have work today though.”

Your boyfriend let out a loud sigh of disbelief. You could vividly imagine him running a hand through his hair and blinking away a glare as you laid in your bed. About 20 seconds later, he spoke again, “Just go to sleep, please?”

“But I’m not tired yet,” you whined somewhat childishly. 

“Go to sleep,” Johnny laughed weakly before adding, “You’ll thank me when it’s time to wake up.”

Pondering over your choices, you finally made a decision after a few seconds. “Sing me to sleep?”

“Alright, baby. What song do you want to hear tonight?”

“This is the last time I’ll go to a convention with you,” you mumbled under your breath as you tried to navigate the dangerous convention centre. Johnny had managed to drag you to a fitness convention that you had no interest in whatsoever. In fact, you had been very much against this date idea of his and now you hoped he could finally understand why. 

You got on your tippy-toes in an attempt to spot your boyfriend, but it was only of so much help. He was nowhere to be seen and you were left standing in a crowd of people you did not nor wished to know. Panic began to bubble in your throat as you realized you couldn’t recognize your surroundings and your boyfriend was nowhere near you.

“Oh my god, I lost you for a second there,” Johnny’s voice broke you out of an impending panic attack. Turning around to face him, you glared at him.

“Where did you run off to?” you scolded him, hands on your hips and an eyebrow raised.

Johnny offered a sheepish smile. “I got distracted by the pole dancers.”

“I want a new boyfriend,” you declared and prepared to walk away from him. He whined and grabbed your hand. “I’m sorry! It’s not what you think! I was just in awe at their core strength.”

“Not at their lack of clothing?” you snorted and continued to walk away.

“I mean, the lack of clothing was just a bonus- Baby, don’t leave me!” He chased after you and wrapped his arms around you from behind. “I’m sorry. I won’t leave you alone again.”

You turned to glare at him and declared, “You’d better not because there are a lot of people here and I am this close to panicking.”

“Do you want to leave?” he asked, worry filling his brown eyes. “Let’s go. We can go home and watch a movie or something, okay?”

Nodding, you hummed appreciatively and let him take your hand. Gently, he began pulling you through the crowd, hand gripping yours. You couldn’t help but smile gratefully as he shielded you away from curious eyes and squeezed your hand. 

“We’re almost out,” you heard him call over his shoulder. 

Movie nights were great. Movie nights were awesome. Until you realized that the box of pizza you had ordered was cut into an uneven number of slices and there were two of you. 

You pouted as you hungrily stared at the cheesy goodness on the coffee table. Johnny’s arms were tightly wrapped around you in an attempt to cuddle while watching the movie. They had you trapped under his weight with no way of getting that last slice.

“Babe,” Johnny’s muffled laughter snapped you out of your daze, “you’re kind of drooling over my shirt right now.”

Your gaze snapped up to glare at him, his face stuffed with cheese and pepperoni and all the good stuff that you could only stare at. A low growl sounded from your throat before you settled back down after hearing his defeated words, “Just kidding. I was just kidding.”

Unbeknownst to you, he had been staring at the last slice as well, just not with the same intention. You felt disappointment fill you as Johnny sighed happily and reached for the box.

“You can have the last slice,” he spoke as he pushed the box towards you. Your eyes widened comically as he motioned for you to take the piece of pizza. “Take it. Come on.”

Without any argument, you reached over and took the slice out of the box. As you munched on it happily, Johnny smiled at you.

The walls seemed to cave in and the windows seemed to shatter as you shouted at one another.

“Me?! Overbearing?!” Johnny scoffed out a disbelieving laugh. “Says the clingy little-”

“Don’t you dare say that word!” you barked back, pointing fingers at him. “And I am not clingy at all!”

“Not clingy?!” he cackled and rolled his eyes. “Please! You can’t leave me alone for more than five seconds! I can never catch a break!” He glared. “Guess what?! Sometimes I go out to drink with the boys just so I won’t have to entertain you all the time.”

“Entertain me?” You raised an eyebrow. “You’re not much of an entertainer though. If I was dating you for entertainment, I would have broken up with you long ago and dated Yuta instead!”

Johnny bit his tongue before blinking back tears of frustration. “That-  That was a low blow. Even for you.”

“Even for me?! What is that supposed to mean?!”

“You know exactly what that means!”

“I think it’s really rich that you’re saying that was a low blow when you just called me a clingy little bitch just a moment ago.”

He rolled his eyes. “I didn’t call you that.”

“Yes, you did!”

“I did not.” He gritted his teeth. “I mean, it wouldn’t be a lie! You’re clingy. There, I said it!”

“How can you call ME clingy when all you ever do is call me and text me and you always have to have a hand on me?!” you spat at him, getting really frustrated at this point. “If I’m clingy, what does that make you, huh?”

“I never said I wasn’t clingy!” he blurted out before taking a deep breath, hoping to calm himself down a bit. “It’s just that-”

Unfortunately for him and his sanity, you were not ready to calm down just yet. And so you pushed, “It’s just what? You’re allowed to be clingy but I’m not?! Somehow I’m too affectionate and overbearing when you’re just trying to maintain a relationship?!”

You had pushed far enough.

“IT’S BECAUSE I WORRY ABOUT YOU! ALL THE DAMN TIME!” 

The house went silent all of a sudden. It felt as if the time had stopped as if the universe had stilled to give you a moment to consider his words. You felt guilty all of a sudden as a tear spilt down his cheek. 

Reaching forward slowly, you gently spoke, “Johnny…”

He cut you off. “Don’t.” Shaking his head, he began walking out. “Let me know when you’ve calmed down. I don’t want to fight like this.”

“I don’t want to fight either,” you sighed and he almost gave in. 

“Then why are we fighting?” he breathlessly wondered, not expecting an answer. 

To his surprise and relief, you walked over to him and wrapped your arms around his torso, burying your face in his chest. Muffled by the material of his shirt, your voice sounded, “Because we love each other. Because we don’t want to lose each other.”

Defeated, he returned the embrace and kissed your head. “I’m sorry for calling you clingy.”

“I’m sorry, too,” you whispered. “We said some mean things.”

“Cuddles to make up?”

You knew something was up the moment his car parked in the driveway. Usually, he was indoors within seconds of arriving, sometimes forgetting to lock the doors of his vehicle out of excitement to see you. 

That day he sat in his car for a while. For a second, you were worried that he might have had a bad day. But when you looked out the window to check on him, he didn’t seem slumped or even tired. He seemed… Amused.

When he finally came into the house, he had both of his hands behind his back and a wide smile on his face. You could only bite your lip as you expected the worst.

“Okay, you’re probably going to be mad at me for a second,” Johnny’s calm tone did nothing to ease your nerves, but he continued anyway, “BUT after a while, you will laugh about this.”

“What did you do, Johnny?” you sighed and crossed your arms over your chest. “I swear to God that if you bought another star and named it after me just to brag about dating a star, I will stab you with a rusty fork.”

Johnny grimaced upon realizing you were not in the most carefree or cheerful of moods. However, maybe you wouldn’t kill him this time. 

You clicked your tongue and walked closer to him slowly with narrowed eyes. “Johnny, what did you buy this time?”

He smiled sheepishly before bringing his hands and a box in front of him with slow calculated movements. 

To his relief, you snorted. “Is that a marshmallow in a bear suit in a muffin costume?”

“It reminded me of you,” he scratched the back of his head and looked at you with hopeful eyes, “so I bought it for you.”

With a chuckle, you took the plushie from his hands and inspected it closer. After a short moment, you put it next to your face and stared at your boyfriend. “How does this thing remind you of me?”

“You’re both soft and sweet,” he wrapped his arms around you before whispering rapidly, “andkindofscarywhenyou’redisturbed.”

“What was that last part?”

“Absolutely adorable,” he spoke louder than necessary. “That’s what I said.”

You looked up and raised an eyebrow at him. “You sure?”

“Yes.”

Jaehyun offered you a guilty smile when you opened your front door at 2 am. Raising an eyebrow, you looked at your lanky boyfriend wrapped around the handsome man in front of you. You sighed. 

“I told him not to drink too much,” you mumbled as you let the two inside. Faintly, you could hear Johnny whispering and giggling under his breath, too drunk to understand what was going on.

He clung to Jaehyun like a little kid to his mother’s legs on the first day of school. Jaehyun spoke, “I tried to remind him to stop drinking so much, but apparently he and Yuta had this manly pride thing going and I did not want to get involved in that.”

Another sigh sounded from you. “I should’ve known this was Yuta’s fault.”

Jaehyun wrestled Johnny off himself and onto the couch, groaning as the older man gripped his shirt and hair. “How do you deal with him every time he’s drunk?”

“I usually just hug him. That always works,” you shrugged and went to the kitchen to get the boys some water. You could only imagine the headache Johnny would have the next day. The thought made you chuckle - he had it coming.

When you returned to the living room, two bottles of water in hand, you almost burst out laughing. 

There they were, two of the tallest members of NCT, lying on your couch, cuddled up together. Jaehyun offered you a mild glare before nuzzling back into Johnny’s shoulder. The latter was mumbling softly, eyes closed as he pressed his nose to his friend’s fluffy hair. His arms were draped around Jaehyun in a way that made it impossible for the younger man to escape. 

“Aren’t you two adorable,” you cooed and leaned forward to hand Jaehyun a bottle of water. He shook his head and pointed downwards. Taking the hint, you placed the bottles down and sat onto the coffee table. “Are you going to stay like this the whole night?”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Jaehyun sighed, patting Johnny on the shoulder gently, “but I don’t think I have much of a choice right now.”

“You look cuter with my boyfriend than I do,” you pouted jokingly, earning a scoff from Jaehyun whose ears started turning red. 

As he began to reply, he cut himself off mid-vowel and looked at Johnny with wide eyes. He then turned to you and motioned you closer. Surprised and confused, you leaned forward to listen to whatever Johnny was saying.

“(Y/n),” your boyfriend whined, voice muffled by Jaehyun’s hair. “Don’t tell anybody…” 

“What is he saying?” you wondered, curiosity getting the best of you. Without thinking, you sat on the edge of the couch, hands instinctively running through his soft hair. “Johnny?”

“Don’t tell anybody,” Johnny mumbled again and shifted so he was now nuzzled into the crook of Jaehyun’s neck, “but I think I like you more than coffee.”

You and Jaehyun shared amused looks. 

“That sounded like a confession,” Jaehyun snorted and patted Johnny’s shoulder once again. “You’ve got anything you want to confess to me, buddy?”

“I’d totally date you if (Y/n) wasn’t my girlfriend,” Johnny slurred out, making you laugh and Jaehyun’s ears burn bright red. 

Johnny didn’t like being worried about you. Not because the feeling itself was very exhausting and probably made him lose several years of his life, but because he didn’t want to be the overbearing and overprotective boyfriend. So, he always did his best to push his concerns aside and be a supportive partner to you. Except, sometimes he could not help himself.

“I swear they were here just a moment ago,” Johnny mumbled to himself, hands running through his hair without thought and fingers twitching to grab onto something.

Taeyong could only stare in concern. But when your boyfriend dialled your number and promptly began cursing loud enough for everyone to hear, he rushed to his friend’s side. “I’m sure she’s okay.”

“What if she got in an accident?” Johnny mumbled, switching to a language and accent that Taeyong had trouble figuring out. “What if she was mugged? Or worse, kidnapped? Killed?”

“She was not killed.” Mark sounded beyond done. Despite that, he looked around the dark park and looked for you. “Knowing her, she was probably distracted by a puppy or something.”

Letting out a whine, Johnny frowned and looked around frantically for the hundredth time that half hour. “But what if something happened?”

“Nothing happened,” Mark rolled his eyes. “She would’ve called you if something did happen.”

“Maybe she broke her phone or was kidnapped and drugged before she could call me? What if-”

“Okay, that’s enough coffee for you for the rest of the week,” Taeyong declared, clapping his hands and sighing. “You’re overthinking it.”

“My girlfriend is missing,” Johnny emphasized. “I’m allowed to be worried.”

Still looking around for any signs of you, Mark hissed. “Maybe if she’d been missing for a day or a week or something. Not half an hour.” He looked back at Johnny. “Besides, she’s right here.”

“What?! Where?!” 

The moment he caught sight of you, clearly distracted by the fairy lights hanging from the trees, his breath got caught in his throat. Before the actions registered in his brain, he was running to you and tackling you in a hug. You let out a surprised giggle and stared at him with shining eyes. “Did you miss me that much?”

He wrapped his arms around you tightly, barely letting you breathe as he nuzzled his face into your hair. Faintly, you could feel his nails digging into your back. Before you could question him, he whispered, “Where were you? I was worried sick.”

“I was out of your sight for like 30 minutes,” you replied hesitantly and gently hugged him back. 

He let out a hum of appreciation before declaring, “That’s thirty minutes too long in this weather and economy at this hour.” He sighed and pulled back to look you in the eyes. “I was worried something happened to you. You didn’t even reply to my calls.”

“Oh, that,” you offered a guilty smile. “My phone died.”

“(Y/n),” Taeyong whined from a distance, a pout on his face, “we’ve told you a million times to charge your phone before we hang out!”

“Yeah, Johnny was really panicked,” Mark frowned. “He was making up these absolutely crazy theories-”

“They were all legit and very realistic theories.”

“They were in no way realistic.” 

Without any thought put into the action, you picked up your phone. It was an automatic response to exhaustion and being upset. He had spent months trying to get you to act so and by now you did so without any hesitation.

He picked up the call on the third ring, sounding out of breath and a bit tired as he greeted you, “Hey baby! What’s up?”

His voice was the key to the secret door of the last wall keeping you from revealing your emotions. Within seconds, you were sobbing, eyes watering and breathing unsteady as you mumbled into the phone, “I had a bad day, Johnny.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, all cheerfulness gone and replaced with worry in its purest form.

“No, I just-,” you hiccuped, “I just wanted to hear your voice. That’s all I need right now.”

“Do you need me to come over?” he asked but you knew he was already packing up his bag as he spoke. His members could only watch in wonder and worry as he threw his water bottle in the bag and grabbed his jacket on the way out without a word to them. “Or do you want me to tell you about my day?”

“Did you have a better day than me?” you managed to ask him.

Johnny hummed in thought before agreeing, “Yeah, probably. There was a lot of practice though.”

“What did you do today?” you questioned quietly, a small smile appearing on your face as he recalled the events of the day. 

Swinging your intertwined hands as the pair of you walked down the dimly lit streets of Seoul, he asked, “Should I go for a more coconut-y scent?” 

“Where is this coming from?” you wondered through chuckles as he squeezed your hand.

“I just feel like I need to switch colognes or something,” Johnny sighed. Barely noticing himself, he put your joined hands in the pocket of his coat. “You like coconut, right? Or should I try something muskier?”

“I like your current scent though,” came your response, much to his surprise. 

His shock was obvious in the way he stopped in the middle of the street, eyes wide and mouth agape. He stuttered out random syllables until he finally combined a word, “Really?”

“Yes,” you chuckled and reached up to tap his nose, “and I thought you did too.”

“I mean I do but,” Johnny frowned in thought before continuing to walk, “I think it’s a bit worn out.” He let out a quiet, almost unnoticeable sigh, before whispering hopelessly, “You haven’t cuddled me in a while.”

You heard him clear as day and gasped in surprise. “THIS IS WHAT IT’S ABOUT?”

“What?” 

He would have preferred to be swallowed up by the asphalt under his feet than admit that he was indeed considering changing his cologne just to get you to cuddle him more. So, he feigned ignorance.

“You’re just disappointed that I haven’t cuddled you this week,” you laughed and usually he would have loved the sound. This time he seemed annoyed. “I’m sorry, but that’s…” 

You considered for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, it’s definitely the dumbest reason yet.”

“I just want more affection, geesh,” he pouted and nudged you with his shoulder. 

“All you had to do was ask, darling,” you spoke softly and squeezed his hand.

[bcrtonarrcws]

Meta: Claire's relationship with Barney

              HELLO, HI, YOU HAVE JUST UNLOCKED AN ESSAY THAT IS PROBABLY JUST A LITTLE TOO LONG, if I do say so myself and given that I wrote it, I would say you should listen.

 Anyway, the Bartons are actually my favorite comic siblings to ever exist – probably actually my two favorite comic characters ever ever. Their relationship is so dysfunctional and a little broken, yet held together by shitty guardians and a rough childhood. It’s kinda beautiful, how after everything that happened to each other, they’re still close?? Like they trust each other, tease each other, they have each other’s back?? The relationship between Clint and Barney is truly one of my favorite representations of a pair of siblings who didn’t have the easiest life, mainly because, like without the superhero nonsense, their relationship is actually very similar to my own relationship with my siblings – a severely messed up ride or die that might end with one of us killing each other.

Yet, this question is what does Barney’s and Claire’s relationship look like, not Barney’s and Clint, which despite how little it would change, does change some things. To figure out what it changes though, I’d like to head to what their relationship is like, in canon, for me. I know that the fandom has it’s own view of Barney Barton – I don’t agree with it nor particularly like it, so it’s probably best if I explain how I look at their relationship.

So Barney Barton, born Charles Bernard Barton, is the eldest of the two – no ages because this is the comics and characters can’t have canon ages ?? I guess it’ll break the suspension of disbelief but like shrugs – and he showed up in the comics in 1969, before this, he never existed. Of course this is during the age of the 60’s so most superheros didn’t really like have a life outside of the comics they were in so it’s not that big of a deal, but like still, Marvel just creates this character to be Clint’s brother, tells us he’s a racketeer that’s been on the Avenger’s radar for a while, and then kills him in the same issue, only revealing at the end that he was an undercover FBI agent.

(yeah, they gave Clint a family and then killed said family right away, sounds so similar, y’know kinda like the movie-verse which gave clint a family with very little characterization and then snapped them – no wonder I love Laura so much)

Anyway, later issues of Clint’s will explain that their parents were abusive, they died and Clint and Barney ran away from the orphanage they were in when they were like teenagers – this would be retconned to young teenagers, then implied to be younger as of the Hawkeye (2012) series, which puts Clint sleeping under the tents at age 9 (src), which could or could not imply them being their already - it’s whatever, like it’s just gonna get retconned again. Running away to the circus always puts strain on their relationship no matter what age they are though, mainly due to Clint receiving training from their mutual “father figure” Jacques DuQuesne and Barney becoming jealous; a completely and natural thing according to all child psych I’ve read, it creates an environment that allows one kid to be the “golden child” and the other to be the “scapegoat” – now of course, we don’t know much about the dynamics of their full childhood, Marvel hates sharing any information like that, but we can extrapolate a fair amount.

(also, just so everyone knows, this jealousy did not pave the way for their relationship in later comics, namely Blindspot. In that it’s very clearly stated that Barney was found by Egghead to still be slightly alive. He was then held onto, for nefarious reasons, in a healing chamber, until he was found by Baron Zemo years later who then manipulated Barney against his brother so that Baron Zemo could get his revenge against Clint Barton. I’ll say it again, Barney was used against his own brother by an evil guy who hated Clint because Clint slept with Zemo’s wife; that is where the “Cain and Abel” dynamic comes from – not childhood)

Back on the tangentially related topic I was writing about. This jealousy grows until Jacques DuQuesne leaves after Clint finds out about his illegal dealings ( though the all new hawkeye actually kinda, maybe, a little, I’m unsure, retcons this with Clint finding out about it much earlier, when he finds out about Jacques having Barney stealing from people and places and finds the hidden cache of a gun, money and some other things under Jacques’ bed??? I don’t know, I’m now a little confused if Jacques still fucks off thanks to that comic ) - of course, this is after Jacques chases Clint through the circus, cutting the high wire Clint tried to hide on. Barney tells Clint, while his brother is in the hospital (and in literally a comic that got retconned basically) that he should’ve kept his mouth shut and stuck by Jacques no matter what (can we say that that sounds like trauma?? because guess what, psych 101 says that that’s kinda sounding like trauma since Jacques was trash to these kids, like literally, fuck Jacques DuQuesne – all my friends hate him – he’s an interesting villain but fuck the whitewashing of his bullshit).

This doesn’t sour their relationship at all – no seriously, it doesn’t which uh shows that neither of them really take each other at face value anymore – and they go back to the circus, Clint heals up, starts working with Buck (a man currently being written out of the comics world which is a shame because he’s kinda important but kinda not) and then Barney decides he wants out. With Barney in the army, Clint continues down the crime street and well, now that we’ve got a bit of background (over 800 words of background), let’s get onto what their relationship is really like for Claire and Barney.

Simply put, like in the comic relationship with Clint and Barney, Barney is a protective older brother, he taught Claire how to fight and aim, how to patch up simple bruises and cuts, taught her to drink her first shot (at like age fourteen, but like what do you expect when that boy was drinking much younger???). He was her first teacher, her best teacher – yes their relationship got complicated; it’s Claire when isn’t her relationships complicated – but at the end of the day, he helped shape her into who she was.

Less simply put…

He is her everything—in all the P L A T O N I C (I’m emphasizing platonic because please don’t take this in the romantic sense, they’re fucked up but not like that; I am not Marvel, I don’t ship siblings and pretend that shit is fine.) sense of the word—he was her guardian when all the guardians around her failed to properly take care of her; he was her brother who teased her and made fun of her; he was her best friend who understood what she went through, the only other person who did; he taught her as much schooling as she would sit down and listen to, he taught her how to cook herself some basic food.

He was a father, a mother, a brother, a best friend, a moral compass – which is why when he went off to the Army, Claire found it a betrayal. She hated him for the time that he was gone, though she forgave him not long before she first shot him because she could understand that to him  (the little purple box in the third panel: Carnival of Death, of course this is how Barney would remember things) the circus was never a home, just another temporary place to stay. 

(btw this is “shooting barney” thing that is part of my main verse, is canon. Clint shot his brother, who was working undercover as a bodyguard, while Clint was breaking into a mansion with the aforementioned soon-to-be-retconned-I’m-sure-of-it Buck Chisholm, which led to Buck shooting Clint in the shoulder when he refused to leave his brother’s body and pinning him to a tree – I don’t quite recall how Clint got out of getting arrested, I’m pretty sure it never explained, but I’m rusty and not really up for pulling out some old comics to read up on) 

(I lied, here’s the comic strip: 1. 2. Clint “somehow” managed to get free, take his brother to the hospital and then leave??? yeah sure. )

Anyway, let’s get on with it. So if that was their relationship when they were younger, what is it like now?? Now that Claire has found a place – a sturdy, yet unsteady, comfortable, yet spartan, to call her own –

( and yes, this sounds angsty, but Clint has issues accepting that he is where he wants to be – Clint is always running, even when standing completely still. It’s a trauma response to his shitty childhood where they never stayed in one place for too long; even when their parents were alive, they moved from above the family butcher shop to the Barton farm. Barney had it too, but apparently a relationship helped with that (and okay, look I love Simone and Barney, but that part in All New Hawkeye rubbed me wrong as a fellow wandering child turned rootless adult; the guy needs therapy, not just a relationship – but then again, Barney Barton does not get agency or a personality outside of Clint Barton; his life must revolve around Clint Barton, even when he was on the Dark Avengers, it was about Clint – and yeah, they’re brothers, “two sides of the same coin”, and all that jazz but like I’ve got three sisters and a brother, I’m my own person at the end of the day – something Barney Barton cannot say, which means ending his story on the note of retirement and falling in love is just the best thing so they don’t have to keep finding a reason to try to remember that Clint has a brother   I’ll stop with the rant, I’m sorry.) )

   where does a man who no longer has to be a father, mother, brother, best friend, and moral compass stand when his sister has all that? Well, for the most part, he stands next to her – in my main verse at least. After he has come back wrong (Buffy much?), he finds his place standing beside his sister, no longer solely protecting her from the world (as he had always done because the world is not kind to lost little girls or boys), because he’s learned that she can, for the most part, protect herself, and Claire finds herself less on a lower standing (less of a burden in her eyes, less of a child in need of comfort) with her brother, but more like an equal, something that’s a bit of a new situation for the both of them.

In truth, Claire’s relationship with Barney is complicated and messy but it’s hers, and when you have something that’s complicated and messy, you have to figure it out, and that’s what, in my canon, she’s doing. Sure Barney isn’t around a lot - he’s got his own shit to figure out - but he’s her brother, and she loves him, and he loves her and they’re trying to get to a place where they don’t accidentally poke the trauma they’ve got and ruin a good thing. 

......

Okay, so like did any of this make sense??? I don’t know. I guess, to sum it up really quick, in my main verse - and most of my canon - I’d say Claire’s relationship with Barney is slightly yet not really awkward – it’s awkward because once upon a time, it was simple. Yet at the same time, it’s a really important relationship because Claire was shaped by her brother (and of course all those shitty adults because there are no good mentors in the Marvel world, not for kids at least).

Idk, this is really just me rambling. Like I should just state that tis is just Mun taking all the retcons that Marvel stuck her babies through and trying to make sense of them along with a healthy dose of a smattering of psychology shoved all about because unlike Marvel, I have no desire to ignore the C-PTSD/PTSD that seems to follow both boys around thanks to their childhood – of course this crazy amount of words actually kinda ignores all the trauma they have as adults, but that’s a whole nother post for some other day

I also know that I carry some ~controversial ~ barney barton views - ie. he’s not a villain and that him and clint share a close relationship, that he isn’t dumb muscle (bitch got a 1350 SAT score with like minimal schooling, i’d like to see you do that) and that he wasn’t a shit older brother when they were kids - i’m not apologizing for them. not at all. i will never apologize for them. characters are more than one dimensional and if i gotta be the one to wade through all this vague ass bullshit to get those other two dimensions then i’m going to do just that, which i have done. 

plus it doesn’t even matter because through all the retcons clint and barney has gone through, this is what their relationship is; a fucked up dysfunctional sibling relationship gone off the rails when Barney was brought back from the dead and manipulated/brainwashed into hating his brother. it eventually got better, how? we’ve got none of that, but it did and and at the end of the day, as clint said:

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Death Of A Hero (The Less I Know The Better, Part 2.) (Peter Parker's iPod, Part 14.)

Series description: Blip was hard. Dating MJ was a pleasure in Parker’s life, so it was even harder when she told him that things aren’t working as she anticipated - one month before college. Although they remained friends. But Peter isn’t too sure if he can handle liking yet another girl.

Part Summary: There was a night you've seen through all the Spider-Man's magic. But it wasn't what you've expected. Who would expected to be lied to in the end?

A/N: I knew that this is coming... That's why I've been hesitant with writing this chapter for such a long time. I'm so sorry. 💔 Fun fact: I used the same song as inspiration when I was working on my OG Avengers series in my language when I was going back to Tony Stark’s funeral. 

Word count:  2.4K

Tagging: @fanboyswhereare-you, @lukesbabylon, @eridanuswave​, @underoosjae​

Master list: H E R E

GIF SOURCE

You can’t look away from a train wreck, that’s how the saying goes, right? Something like that it was. And you had a feeling that your life is one big train wreck or that something like destiny is playing one big sick game on you because such a twist was unexpected.

Peter Parker, the boy who wore only old clothes, t-shirts with nerdy puns, that someone who was into putting together Lego sets, comic book reader... He was supposed to be Spider-Man. The mysterious cool guy who was swinging through New York on his webs, he was fighting off the forces of evil and he was keeping you safe. Your Peter was supposed to be that guy. For a second, you thought that maybe you were falling in love with both of them. Sometimes, the affection for Peter was stronger and when you were Spider-Man, you couldn't think about anyone else. And when these two worlds collided, you couldn't understand what in the world is even happening.

Until confusion turned to anger that was eating you alive every time you saw his dumb face. You and Peter weren't talking for more than two weeks until the finals ended since you wanted to concentrate on your finals. The boy didn't know that you finally figured him out, so he was worried that has done something as Peter that you couldn't simply look away from. In the nights when he wanted to ask about it as the other guy, your window was locked from the inside and when you heard him landing on the rusty escape staircase, you pretended that you're dead asleep.

You allowed him one last visit before you were about to drive to your home in the countryside. Since you and Peter hadn't spoken about two weeks at that time, he had no idea about your plans for the holiday. He was simply happy that you both finished the first year of college and since he was that kind of a boyfriend who never missed an occasion for a flower and dinner, he brought it to you. Italian lasagna and some roses hanging from the outside as he held it for you, himself having a smile on his lips.

Tame Impala was playing through the room and you were just finishing some work on your laptop. - "Come in." - A cold mumble could be heard as you continued with writing. Normally, you'd stand up with a smile and took the things out of his palms, giving him a warm kiss afterward. Yet that day, something was in the air. Something had changed and Peter felt it. And as he watched you working with a murderous look in your face, he knew that this is going to be bad.

"Hey, stop working, and let's celebrate. You seem to be tired." - He whispered and tried to smooth your palm. But as you felt his fingers lingering on the fabric of your shirt, you jolted and looked at him with a face full of disgust. Yeah, something was off. - "Okay then, I won't be touching you. Just... Eat something, I guess." - Peter walked to the desk and opened up the lasagna for you. Somehow, he felt your stare on his back and it was extremely uncomfortable. He tried to smile at you while he put it next to your thigh only to meet with another murderous stare.

"Look me in the eyes and tell me why have you done all of this." - You asked calmly. At that, Peter's heart stopped. MJ knew that he's in your room and she promised you that she’ll take Betty out for dinner so you would have the whole flat for yourself to scream at each other.

"I-I think that I don't know what you're talking about." - Peter got out wish noticeable stuttering, having you chuckling and shaking your head. You had about enough with Peter. When you looked at the boy, you couldn't see someone who knew how to make your laugh. It wasn’t the boy who always told you that you're looking cute. It wasn’t even your friend who you kissed on the trip.

All you could see was a liar. His moves screamed the word, his lips were telling the lies and his whole personality? A hollow fake built for your liking. With one move, you closed the laptop and put it away, licking your lips slowly. Without sparing him a look, you walked to the iPod, having Tame Impala screaming on a loop.

"I think you know exactly what I'm talking about, Peter." - You told him, just standing there and looking him in the eyes with your palms over your chest. - "It took me a long time, yeah, but it made you feel good, am I right? You were all about lying to me that when you successfully catfished me, you were excited. Now you know that this works and you can fuck with any girl you'll choose as your future victim."

At that moment, you took the mask off, tearing it off his head so you could look him in the eyes. You loved that human being just weeks back and at that moment, the only thing you wanted was to throw up. What has he done was disgusting, immature, and... Suddenly you got the feeling that you might not be the only one who Peter tried to seduce this way.

"And for Christ's sake, turn on your normal voice, I'm sick of you fucking with me." - A disgusted mumble came out again as you rolled your eyes and threw the mask to his feet, walking away. Of course, you wanted to see him suffer that evening. It wasnt nice of you, it wasnt, but that was the way it was. You weren't giving Peter a single shit for free. You put tight shorts on so your ass would look just splendid and the top itself wasn’t covering you either, showing him that bra you had on... When that one night happened.  

"I-I swear I can explain, Y/N. Just don't be mad, p-please. I beg you." - The boy ran after you when you poured yourself a glass of cold water, doing exactly what you wanted.

"I want to hear why did you do all of this shit and why did you choose me as your practice target, Peter. That's all the explanation I want and what you owe me." - You walked to stand in front of him, having your dinner table between you and him.

"Look at you." - Was all the boy answered as his fingers played with the spandex mask. His cheeks reddened while his eyes got teary. Jesus, Peter was never scared as he was at that moment, at that kitchen, with you looking at him. You did as he told you, giving him raised eyebrows. - "How... How would someone like so lucky that they would get to date a girl like you? And trust me, I was never good with girls, whether you look back at Liz or when you ask MJ..." - Now he was mumbling, looking into the ground in front of his feet.

"And ever since February, I started to notice that I, really, really liked you. And I... I was... I was just so scared that you would never date me for me, I wanted to meet you like the other guy and tell when the time’s right." - Peter tried to explain the best he could, having you silent for a long while. That was when you started to laugh cold-heartedly.

"And when would the right time come? A month from now, half a year, a year? Did you enjoy seeing me waiting for you almost every night, not having any other guy on my mind? I could have a boyfriend by now, Peter, there was a lot of boys asking me out in the last few months, did you know that? But instead of that, I wanted to be with you and... Not with Spider-Man. I felt this subtle click between me and you... Months ago. And when we have done some stuff together, I was wowed. I thought to myself that you're the guy. And when I kissed you on the farm, I felt it too. And not for your ass dressed in spandex. I felt it for you, Peter." - You pointed at him, not finishing just yet. - "Of course, you can say I was into Spider-Man since I didn't see through the whole mascarade, yet for me, it wasnt about the hero or the suit. It was about the boy under it. I saw only the boy whose father figure got shot. About the boy who liked my sushi. For fuck's sake, I fell for the boy who danced with me on the rooftop, who was funny, charming, and smart." - You breathed out with disappointment, taking another sip of the water.

"And I don't know if you realize that, but I'm talking about you and your personality. The whole time, you've been giving the best out of yourself just for me to realize... It was a game. It wasn’t real." - You looked him in the eyes, seeing first tear slipping out of his eye. You’ve been crying too. You weren't the hero who would get hurt and wouldn't cry. MJ was with you the whole time, hugging you, smoothing your hair, and kissing the top of your head to have you feeling safe for a while. At that time, you were just hurt. At that moment, you were mad at the boy, feeling nothing but the hatred that needed to go out of your head and mouth. Otherwise, you'd go crazy.

"It was everything for me, Y/N. You were the only thing I could think about in the last two months. I was leaving the iPod on purpose for you to listen to it, because every time you found a new song, you were so happy. I was doing all of this just to see you happy." - Peter begged quietly, coming closer to you. When the boy was about to touch you again, you bolted to get out of his range again.

"Don't cry, Peter. If you'd told me, this conversation didn't have to happen at all. You're a man, so pull yourself together. I don't mean to go harsh on you, not at all, but you hurt me like a living fuck." - You said simply, walking back to your room, listening to the song once again. That was when he noticed how empty the room was. There were only two big suitcases in the middle of the room.

"Are you moving out? Be-because of what I've done?" - Peter got out of himself with stuttering. He was unable to stop the tears falling out of his eyes when he followed you through the flat.

"No. I'll back here in fall, but I need to get away from this place. And I would appreciate it if you'd leave now. Take the food, the flowers, and go home. Don't text me, don't call me, don't send me memes and kick me all of the text messages groups I'm in with you."

At that moment, Peter slowly felt his body melting into the wooden floor of your room. The world was spinning too fast for his liking, the colors were fading away as he watched you packing the food back without even touching it. You told him that you don't want to be in contact with him anymore. Slowly, his brain started to realize how much he fucked up, no matter how innocent his intentions originally were. Less I Know The Better Suddenly got a completely new meaning for him. At that moment, he was sure he won't stop crying that evening. Gently, he put the mask, packing his food into a plastic bag. - "And you should try your luck with that girl from physics. You seem to be getting along." - Was the last thing you told him, which was surely the metaphorical dagger in his back.

For a reason, you felt that it’s right and wrong at the same time. Seeing him leaving while he was broken was not making you happy at all, but... He got what he deserved. You couldn't just say whatever and close your eyes about being lied to for the last past three months. You still had feelings for him, obviously, but you hoped that these will go away soon enough.

"I just want you to know... Even if it ended how it ended... I think I love you." - Peter said before he jumped out, disappearing into the night, leaving you with a sigh on your lips and tears in your eyes. Why did he tell you such a thing? What the fuck were you supposed to do with it?

Because you did love him too, yet you weren't sure about forgiving... Not just yet.

As soon as Peter arrived home from a quick patrol, he barricaded in his room. This time, he locked himself in and sat on his bed, leaving the spandex on. May tried to get in, but after Peter asking her to leave, she left him alone. Not even ten minutes from that, Ned was calling Peter.

"Hey, buddy, it's going to be alright." - Ned said as soon as he heard the first sob. Peter... Was such an amazing guy. He was smart, brave, but still sensitive. Ned liked his best friend for that - but just as he was smart, he was utterly dumb in some things. Peter didn't tell him a word.

"But... We told you that this is how it's going to end. She already got out of all the text groups we had, she doesn't follow you on Instagram... MJ told me you were there today and that she knew it." - Ned whispered. He was, naturally, sad as well. You were both his best friends. And it just didn't feel good, seeing his friends parting their ways.

"This is not what I need now, Ned." - Peter got out as he laid down with sobs.

[mbavholidayexchange]

To @pixiepaintt from @sarahfoxlesbian

Title: Likes and Dislikes

Rating: T

Summary: not provided

Ao3 Link: N/A

Content

Ethan Morgan did not like buses.

Well, he didn’t like vehicles in general, not that he hated them but if there were a way to live without them he would. This was likely, at least in part, due to the fact that the first car he owned turned out to be a vampire.

But buses, in particular, felt shakier and less safe. At least the school ones did. And for some reason the school had decided they should be stuck in one for around two hours as they headed towards some sciency museum out of town Ethan would have been excited for if ut didn’t mean he’d be stuck in a bus with almost everyone else in his grade for so long.

Every bump they hit on the road, Ethan was sure he would be sent out flying. He would’ve tied his suitbelt, but apparently it was too rusty and refused to stay in place, making it so that his only option was to stick the thing between his seat and Benny’s.

There was the other problem with this whole trip. Benny.

Benny Weir who had somehow managed to talk him into going on the trip in the first place, and was now seated beside him as he snickered at Ethan’s attempts to put his seatbelt in place.

“Shut up,” Ethan grunted, “Don’t you have a spell for this or something?”

“I mean, I’m sure I could make something up.” Benny shrugged.

At that moment, Ethan gave up and just let the seatbelt dangle off, “How about we don’t do that.”

Benny let out a short laugh and Ethan tried to ignore the way his stomach suddenly felt upside down.

“Yeah, that’s… probably for the best.”

Ethan rolled his eyes, but a smile stayed present on his face, and he could see Benny looking at him with a matching one.

This was the real reason Ethan didn’t want to go on the trip.

It had been a week and one day since Ethan came to the startling realisation that he had a crush on his best friend, and had since then tried to avoid any situatiln in which he would be forced to properly acknowledge it. Like, for example, sitting besides him, legs pressed together with no one else to talk for two hours.

Ethan could see Rory a couple of rows ahead of them, their head backwards and swinging from side to side.

“What is Rory even doing?” Benny asked the question in Ethan’s mind.

“You expect me to know? They’re just… being Rory, I guess.” Ethan’s eyebrows became scrunched together as Rory appeared to suddenly fall to the floor, but they were quickly back in their seat, so they were probably fine. Probably.

“Well, at least they’re having fun while we get to…. uh….” The taller of the two boys trailed off, apparently forgetting the destination’s name.

“I honestly don’t know the museum’s name, dude.” Ethan said when Benny looked at him as if he could supply an ending to his sentence.

“You don’t know,” The look on Benny’s face spoke of incredibility.

The seer shook his head.

“You’re the one who wanted to come on this trip,” He pointed out.

Benny rolled his eyes, “We were required to come.”

“I could’ve skipped.”

“Physically? Yes. But morally? Imagine the toll.” Benny snickered.

“Hey, I’m capable of skipping school,” Protested Ethan.

Bennt laughed. “Are you?”

“Yes!”

“And yet, you’ve never done it.”

“That’s not true. I skipped in eight grade when you had mono.”

Looking back on that specific memory, it was likely Ethan should’ve realised his feelings for Benny went beyond friendship a lot earlier than he had. After Benny started looking increasingly tired and paler, and had stopped eating as much, Ethan had absolutely freaked. So much, in fact, that when Benny didn’t go to school Ethan had just ran out of the school all the way to the other boy’s house and insisted on seeing him.

Benny’s grandma had called his parents after she realised he’d just run out, and although verh grounded, Ethan spent that full day and the following one just fawning over Benny, who was reay just asleep for the most part.

On the third day that Ethan would’ve skipped school, his parents informed him he could no longer spend his day at Benny’s instead of in classes and he had to be forced to the building. Maybe Ethan had cried a bit, but he refused to admit it to anyone.

Benny was now looking at him strangely, “You did?”

“Yes? How could you not remember that?” Ethan huffed.

“Well, excuse me, I was pretty out of it that week,” Benny’s tone was offended, reprimanding even, but there was a small growing smile on his face, different from his usual one. This one wss almost… softer.

Ethan shrugged as if to say ‘Fair enough’.

Benny shook hid head as if he were trying to get rid of something on it, “But you skipped?”

“I thought we established that, yes.” Ethan answered.

“For me.” Benny continued.

“Yes.”

“Wow.”

Benny now had a thoughtful look on his face, like he often did when they were trying, really trying, to figure out whatever new creature had risen from the seemingly endless supply Whitechapel had for the supernatural.

Ethan suddenly became panicked about Benny figuring out he liked him, but before he could start rambling, the bus shook, and Ethan flew towards the seat in front.

Benny Weir liked many things.

Chips, being baddass, girls, spells, Ethan Morgan, to name a few.

Museums were not one of those things.

The whole trip seemed a bit pointless, really, and Benny usually would’ve tried to find a way to get his grandma to let him skip out on it.

Except— Except Ethan had been kind of avoiding him all week, and what better place to actually try to figure out why than being stuck next to each other on a bus for two hours? Really, Benny’s plan was infalible.

Two hours later, as the bus pulled up next to the museum, Benny found that he had no answers, only more confusion and a mildly injured Ethan.

“You okay?” He heard from beside him, and turned to look at Ethan who now had a comically colorful band aid on his forehead, a cut lying under

“I’m fairly sure it should be me asking that question.” Benny said, pointing at Ethan’s cut.

Ethan rolled his eyes, “I said I’m fine, it’s the smallest cut on Earth.”

Stubborn idiot, Benny thought. Stubborn idiot why am I in love with you.

Before Benny could give a less revealing voicing to his thoughts, Benny and Ethan were being pulled off the bus alongside everyone else on it, and into the museum.

Once they were inside, Benny turned to Ethan with a conspirational look, “We could sneak away.”

“Just because we could doesn’t mean we should.” Retorted Ethan.

Benny looked at Ethan pleadingly for a second. Two.

“Okay fine.” Ethan huffed, his cheeks oddly tinted a bit pink.

It wasn’t in the slightest bit hard to sneak away from the rest of the group, which was probably concerning but Benny didn’t really care. It was conveninent.

Soon, Ethan and Benny found themselves in the astronomy section of the museum. The room was mostly dark, lit up by faint purple ish blue ish light coming from the constellations that filled the walls and ceiling. Benny looked beside him to find that the light gave Ethan a more ethereal look than he already possessed, shining from beside him and only partially reflecting on his face.

“What-” Ethan started when he noticed him staring but Benny interrupted.

“Why are you avoiding me?” The words were slightly rushed.

“I’m not?” Ethan tilted his head slightly in that way that made him look a bit like a puppy.

“Not right now, but this past week,” Benny took a deep breath, “This past week whenever it was just you and I you just bailed immediately.”

Benny could’ve almost believed in him if Ethan had told him it was some weird coincidence, or Benny being paranoid, if only because that’s what Benny wanted to believe, but instead of answering Ethan looked down at his shoes guiltily.

“Did you-” Benny could feel his heart hammering in his chest, “Did you figure it out? Because if you did, it would’ve been really nice if you’d actually told me that instead of just evading me like I’m the plague or some shit.”

“What are you talking about?” Ethan was now back to actually looking at Benny, confusion written all over his face.

Benny bit his cheek. Shit. If Ethan hadn’t figured out that he had a very hopeleds very pathetic crush on him, Benny had just completely given himself away.

“Benny?” Ethan prompted.

“It’s nothing, just tell me why you were avoiding me.”

Ethan’s jaw tensed slightly, like it always did when he wanted to argue but had chosen it wss better not to.

“I- well-” The shorter of the pair stumbled over his words, seeming to start some sort of coherent thought then leaving it right after. His cheeks were completely red, as if he had some really bad sunburn only on the cheeks, and the jumbled words kept getting quicker.

“Hey,” Benny put his hand on Ethan’s shoulder, “just breathe.”

“Right, yeah.” Ethan said, breathlessly.

When he finally looked a bit more calm, Ethan bit his lip and looked right into Benny’s eyes and it took everything in Benny to maintain that eye contact instead of staring at the boy’s lips.

“I like you.” Ethan said and Benny blinked.

“What?”

Ethan took a step back, “Fuck, just, let me down gently, please.”

Benny just stared. And stared.

“You’re serious?” He asked tentatively.

“Damnit, Benny. Yes, I’m serious,” Ethan was no longer looking at Benny, instead staring at some point behind him.

“Me too.” Benny finally said.

“Wait, what?”

Instead of answering, Benny took a step forward and pressed his lips to Ethan’s. He stiffened, for a second, but soon he was kissing back.

They both pulled back and Benny let out a small laugh, Ethan following soon after, then pressing their foreheads together.

The moment was interrupted by a voice coming from directly beside them.

“You know, if you guys were just gonna sneak away to make out, you should’ve probably skipped,” Rory said, “Although, I do suppose this is a more romantic setting than Ethan’s bedroom.”