#maybe I’ll keep going with the comic but was trying something new and dunno if I should keep the vibe 🥰

[midoristeashop]

Otnws angst comic + hic + hijack fluff I love emotional whiplash 🥹

Uhhmmm the comic was like during hics years as a spirit and remembering jack and having regrets of not being able to do anything to save him from the ice breaking yeah <3 like damn gotta watch the bf suffer loneliness for 300 years

Oh also hiccup birthday!!!!

[raccoonfallsharder]

here are a few sneak previews of what we’ve got going on (this is really more to organize my thoughts and force myself to come up with titles than anything else)

upcoming rocket raccoon fics behind the cut

1. Window Across the Galaxy

aka long&angsty. hoping to start posting on Sunday or Monday.

Slooowww burn + eventual smut. elements of hurt/comfort because rocket is the saddest-angriest boy. Slight AU starting pre-GOTG volume 1 (but will hit most of the same major plot points).

Rocket is captured by a Ravager crew hoping to get rich off the excessively large bounty on his head. Throwing a wrench in everyone’s plans is the Terran girl they hired to do some freelance assessing on a recent haul of goods they’ve seized from a Xandaran luxury liner. Oops.

She looks at the rusted bars, and back to her brute of a tour guide, and sighs heavily. Slowly, she turns back to the cage, swaying toward the bars so she can peer in at eye-level. She’s immediately face-to-face with the creature. His ears are still pressed flat against his head, fur bristling, and he’s gazing back, clearly suspicious and probably - justifiably - feeling more than a little bit mean. She’s suddenly certain that if she got close enough, he’d take out her eyes. There’s no helping herself, is there? One corner of her mouth twists up in exhausted resignation and she nods. “Welp,” she says solemnly to the raccoon, “fuck me, my dude.”

2. Blackmail Material

(codename: pwp???). will probably post part 1 in a week or two.

just pure fucking smut. this was gonna be two parts but I'm leaning toward three now (smut // fuff // smut). probably takes place sometime after endgame but before volume 3? not that it really matters tbh because there is NO FUCKIN PLOT HERE. ur girl's got a praise kink so that'll definitely be featured per usual.

basically: rocket finds your vibrator.

“I’ll tell you what,” he offers up, still grinning that shit-eating grin. “I won’t say a word and I’ll give it back to you. You can even keep whatever batteries are in it.” That sounds too good to be true. You raise a brow and cross your arms in front of your breasts. “If?" “If you let me watch you use it,” he challenges, eyes daring you. “For science.”

3. Domestic Scenes in Space Travel

(codename: ok sweatshirt girl.) i dunno -maybe post the first one by mid-august?

Comics-inspired but not exclusive - just a buncha feel-good fuffy one-shots and equally feel-good smutty one-shots. Series of slice-of-life readerxrocket one-shots following The Very Boring Adventures of Space Pilot & Sweatshirt Girl.

“Just try not to push any buttons or pull any levers till you know what they do.” You snort. “I fully intend to keep my hands completely to myself unless I have your explicit permission to touch.” Rocket leers. “That could be fun.” Your eyes narrow. “Space Pilot, I’m gonna need you to focus on the task at hand so I don’t end up accidentally jettisoning us.”

4. Other Duties As Assigned

(codename: schemers, dreamers, & multicalendar memers) i don't have an intended outcome for this fic yet so while i am VERY much enjoying it, i first need to grapple with whether or not i'm okay posting something that may be unfinished. i usually try to avoid that.

I have no idea whether this will get smutty or not (probably, knowing me?). Begins five months after The Snap.

Natasha Romanoff is an administrative nightmare - a fact that does not go unnoticed by the (interim) captain of the Milano. First she demands that the remaining two Guardians of the Galaxy be reachable via a primitive Terran messaging system, and then she can't be bothered to read the frickin' emails.

Thank fuck she's hired a new assistant.

**THIS MESSAGE IS ENCRYPTED** To: <nromanoff@aee.org> From: &lt;rocket@aee.org> Subj: re: WHAT THE FUCK RED Date: Monday, September 24, 2018 7:34am well that’s probably the nicest message I’ve gotten since I hacked the internet I’m gonna have to kill your boss though

(a super-secret spoiler sidenote - i have a formula and I shamelessly overuse it, so there are no surprises here: girl falls first, raccoons falls harder. every fuckin time friends.)

[theruinbringers]

Preservance — Chapter 4

[Prev] [TOC] [Next]

The moment we’re outside, juice splatters all over the tiles. [I told you to be polite. How could you forget their name?]

“Not like anything bad happened, did it?” Guess that explains the glare. “What, d'you really like ‘em that much?”

[Of course. They’re the one who—]

In the middle of reading it, the juice stops writing their words. It rearranges itself to say something else before I can finish.

[It could have gone worse,] the words write instead. [What if they decided to kick you out?]

I frown at ‘em. “Why’s it matter to you? ‘Sides, they let me stay, yeah? Though I gotta work for it.”

“Dunno why they thought I should be in charge of this, though.” I kick the ground, watching dust fly up. “Isn't it weird putting a teenager in charge of an adult?”

Eurydice gives me a look that makes it clear they think I’m an idiot.

[Who would be the adult, exactly?] The vines on their body twist. [Besides, that only means they trust you.]

“You? Maybe. Me? Dunno ‘bout that.”

A few seconds pass in silence until it hits me.

“Uh, hold on.” I narrow my eyes. “How old are you?”

[I have lived for hundreds of years.] Vines push my back as they write it out, urging me to keep walking.

“Yeah, no shit…” I stare at ‘em. “‘Kay. What if you were human. How old would you be?”

[I can look whatever age I desire.]

“Wow. It’s real obvious you’re dodging the question, Eurydice.” I snort. “If that’s even your real name.”

They look annoyed. Or as annoyed as wooden garden decor can be. [Did I not mention it was? Stop probing me with useless questions. We’re here.]

We stop in front of a comically large door with a human sized door at the bottom. It’s not as beat up as the rest of the hallway. Still getting bad vibes from it, though. Or maybe it’s just ‘cause Eurydice’s keeps looking at it like it's a ghost.

[My room is to the right.] A vine clings to their door. [Do you need help opening the door?]

“Nah, I think I got it. Er.” I frown at the huge thing. “This room cursed or something?”

[No. Why?]

Jeez. Dunno, maybe it’s ‘cause it looks like you wanna get away from it as soon as possible?

“Nothing. I’ll talk to you later or something, I guess.” I wave them off. With that, I twist the knob and push the door open.

The door doesn’t budge. I turn back to Eurydice. Half their eyes look amused, while the other half looks kinda tired.

[It’s a sliding door.]

Who the hell puts a knob on a sliding door?

The confusion must’ve shown on my face, ‘cause the only thing I can tell from their expression is that they think this is hilarious. [You can explore the other rooms until my next expedition. You're free to knock on my door if you get bored, though.]

“...Sure.” I try to slide the door open. It works this time. “See you, I guess?”

By the time I look back, Eurydice’s already gone.

The door slides shut as I lean against the wall of my room.

My room.

God, none of that’s right. None of this is right.

My room's all stacks of comics and clothes thrown left and right. It's a damn mess, my mom called it. It's not made of marble flooring or as big as a building or filled up like a library—

It was small. It was lonely. But at least it was home.

This is a stranger's room, filled with a stranger's things, and it just isn't mine. And it can't be mine.

How did I even get here?

I was just going to the mall, or maybe school if I felt like it.

I was gonna talk with Cinnabar and tell them I’d pay them again tomorrow. I was gonna tell my dad about where we should go next time he came back. I was gonna tell my mom how much my cousin sucks and—

How the fuck am I gonna do any of that? I’m dead!

This isn’t my room, this isn’t my house, I’m not even supposed to be here! I should be, I don’t fucking know, whittling life away in pugatory?

God. All those stories seem like warnings now.

They said gods can do anything. They said they could give you powers. A new life. Love, family, friends. They could give you everything.

Everything except for your damn life.

What a joke.

Like it could hear my thoughts, the air ‘round the room grows warm and inviting. Almost like it was trying to comfort me. But that’s stupid. Just as stupid as the idea of hearing my parents’ voice here of all places.

It’s really gotta be bad luck, dying like this. What kinda idiot dies while he’s trying to skip class?

The damn pin in my pocket buzzes, like it agrees.

By the time I finish moping, the window’s been cracked open. Random shit like candles and flowers seem to be flying through it, for some reason. What kinda delivery service even is this?

I push myself back up against the wall. That nonsense aside, whoever lived here must have been real important. Kinda weird that their room was basically a me sized library, though.

…Guess that’d explain the tiny door, though.

I stare at it for a moment, taking in a deep breath.

If I'm being real, I don't really wanna go out. Seriously, between the idiot that killed me and the stack of books? I'd rather hide myself in here 'till they drag me out, thanks.

But I know better than anyone that I can't do that. 'Specially because I'd have to face everyone after all that anyways. The longer I hide, the harder it is to get out.

‘Sides, it’s way more important thing is figuring out what the absolute hell is going on here.

I chant that thought in my head as I slide the door open.

I know nothing about gods, but can everybody seriously quit putting all these cracks in the walls? If I didn’t know better, I’d think someone tried bringing the whole place down. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if that was what happened.

Not that that's any of my buisness. Last thing I want is to be involved in their drama.

My footsteps echo ‘round the empty hallway. Really got the feeling before, but most gods have got to be huge. Every door’s in different sizes, but a bunch of them are like huge buildings to me.

I try telling the doors apart, but it's pointless. Scratches aside, they're all the same. If they had some kinda nameplate though, either it'd way too high up for me to see, or there's just nothing at all. How do they even tell these things apart?

Then in the middle of my grumbling, I notice something weird.

Lots of paths are filled with rubble. Nothing new, and probably not anything that’d be a problem for either of the gods here. They could probably fly over it or whatever. Get some vines to move it outta the way.

So it's weird that there’s a path completley blocked off by it— and that Eurydice is staring at it.

At least, I think that’s them. They look kinda different, but the weird star shape is on their body. And that huge bell's still on them, too.

For a second, I think about going back. Can’t really tell what’s going on with them. Maybe they’re remembring something? Wondering why they keep this around? Looking for a way to wreck the place even further? Dunno.

But they definetley know something— and I'm getting that info out of 'em.

“Oi.” I knock on the edge of Eurydice’s wooden arch. “What’s the deal with this?”

Vines grow and twist themselves around their body as they hear me. Billions of eyes flash towards my direction, before the vines relax and recede away.

One of them grows a fruit at its tip, then crushes it. It’s weirdly gentle about it this time. Kinda wish they did that the first time, too. Swear they crushed it hard enough that even fruit got on me.

[It isn’t important.] The words drip with sarcasm. Or at least drips with juice. [Why are you here?]

I shrug. “Got bored. Figured I should get a look around. Not like I’ll be getting out much, yeah?”

[This job will involve nothing but going out.] They make a noise that’s something like a snort.

“Guess it suits me more than I thought.”

Eurydice stares at me for a moment, before looking back at the rubble.

“Someone buried there?”

Couple of their eyes narrow at my statement. [No.]

“Then why d’you keep it around?”

They pause. [Why would it make sense to keep it there if someone was under all that? That isn’t a proper burial.]

“Whatever.” I wave their remarks off. “Could be some weird god ritual. I dunno. S’not important. Why don’t you clean it up? You’d think an earthquake happened in here or something.”

[We have more important things to be doing.]

I make some kinda vague noise of acknowledgement. “Kinda find it hard to believe that bringing a core or whatever’s gonna remove all that.”

Eurydice doesn’t reply to that.

I look back at them, but I can’t read their expressions at all. “So what’s the deal with it?”

[Nothing.] Eurydice closes every one of their eyes except one. It keeps that one trained firmly on the rubble [Why do you want to know?]

I shrug, edging closer it. “Looks fun?”

Their hundreds of eyes flash open to glare at me. Thorny bushes bursts from the ground, preventing me from getting closer.

[This isn't a game, Quin.] The thorns grow on Eurydice's body, too, like a snake crawling up a trunk. [If you're going to mess around, you should go back.]

"Never said it was," I murmur.

Their eyes somehow narrow even more. [Did Ruella set you up to do this?]

"Huh?" I frown. "No? Being honest when I said I was just looking around."

They stare at me for a moment. Feels like hours pass before they turn back to the rubble.

[You should go somewhere else.]

"Still?"

Their eyes scrunch up, like they're tired of asking.

“'Kay, fine," I sigh. "Any last minute demands?"

They take one look at me, then turn away. [Keep this a secret.]

They don’t write anything else, leaving their words floating mid air as they float back to their room. I look back to the rubble they’ve been staring at, but I don’t see anything special about it at all.

So much for getting answers.

[levworship]

cw: dom!reader, fem reader, mommy kink, degrading, dirty talk, oral (fem rec), slight mind break, reader is a lil manipulative. just a bit. probably had errors

summary: you find out while on another blind date with one of mina’s friends that kirishima is just the man for you. he wants to be used, and you’re more than willing to use him.

word count: approx 2.9k

“fuckin’ mina. i’m gonna beat her ass.”

this wasn’t the first time your best friend has tried to set you up with one of her friends. and honestly, knowing her, it more than likely wouldn’t be the last time, either. “but he’s so nice” she’d promise, or “she’s just a little shy,” and perhaps the most common line of “you just have to be a little patient with them”

patient my ass.

your damn patience was beginning to run thinner and thinner the longer you sat waiting at the table for your date to arrive. you’re used to mina’s friends not being the most punctual, but to not show up at all? it was almost insulting. here you were, taking the time out of your busy day to spare some of your sweet time with some rando and—

“hey there, beautiful.” your eyes quickly tore away from the spot you’d been staring at for the past few minutes during your internal rant. part of you wished you hadn’t, because you damn near stopped breathing. typically, you’d never allow a man the satisfaction of hindering you speechless, but fuck. the man before you stood tall and strong, the white fabric of his dress shirt clinging onto his muscles in the most delicious way possible. his hair was slicked up in a style that you could only describe as goofy, and his smile? it was so contagious that you couldn’t help but to toss away the piping hot insults you’d been preparing to shoot his way.

“sorry i’m late. was searching all over town to find these for ya. i know mina said they were your favorite, and well—“ pulling his arms from behind his back, the red-haired man handed you a comically large bouquet of flowers. were they your favorite? no, not at all. but you couldn’t help but to be flattered anyway. “had to look all over town for them. turns out they’re actually pretty hard to find around here. can you believe that?” he chuckled to himself as he scratched at the back of his neck. an unfittingly cute gesture for a man of his build.

you grin sweetly as you grab the bouquet from his large hands, setting them down on the table in front of you and batting your lashes. “these are very beautiful! thank you so much, ...um?”

mina always purposely hid the names of her friends away before setting you up, mostly in fears that you’ll end up googling them and find some not so pretty things, just as you had that time when she tried to set you up with katsuki bakugou. (you noted to yourself that day, stay away from him at all costs.)

“ah- eijirou kirishima!” he filled in for you and held a hand out for you to shake. your eyebrows shot up in realization, leaning forward a bit on the table to shake his hand. you don’t miss the way his eyes shamelessly drift down to your cleavage when you do so. the sight made you laugh.

now you saw why he seemed so familiar at first glance. you’d heard mina talk to you about him on numerous occasions. big, handsome, and dumb. that’s how you’ve always perceived him from listening to her stories and descriptions. and if there was one thing you actually enjoyed about a man, it was how simple they could be. perfect for a woman with your desires.

you open your mouth to return his introduction, but he’s already cutting you off with perhaps a little too much eagerness. “and you’re y/n? did i say that right?” he quirks an eyebrow. “uh- i may have asked mina about you already. a lot.” he flashed you a sheepish smile.

talking to him felt like being a kid in a loaded candy shop. he’d be in the palm of your hand in no time.

the rest of dinner went on moderately better than your previous experiences with these stupid dates. kirishima was a bit of a talker, but you didn’t mind listening if it meant you got to watch the way those puppy dog eyes lit up a little more every time he’d begin telling you a story from his hero work (turns out you were just really behind on the latest hero news), only to quickly become side tracked by one details of his story and trail his way to another mini rant.

finally, you figure you’ve had enough of him rambling. it was time to cut to the point. “does it get lonely?” you asked him suddenly, trying your best to hold in a smile at the way he looked at you confusedly. “i mean- not really? i’m a hero so i’m with people all of the time-“ “that’s not what i meant, red.” hearing you refer to him by his hero name sent visible chills down his spine. just the effect you were wishing to have on him. something about your change in tone knocked him from a highly energetic and charismatic sweetheart, to a blushing and stuttering mess who suddenly couldn’t sit still in his seat. and from just one question, too?

he was almost too good to be true.

“no? i-i mean, yes but... i dunno. i’m busy a lot, a-and i don’t really have time for... yaknow.” “what kind of women do you like? in bed, i mean.” you managed to knock his brain around for a second time as he fumbled around his head for an answer.

“i-i guess it depends?” “hm? what do y’mean?” the way he continued to respond to your nasty questions had you licking your lips. you wanted him. badly. in the most selfish ways possible.

“depends on what the chick is into. i mean- they usually like when i’m on top. but..” you don’t respond this time. instead you look at him expectantly and wait for him to continue his previous statement. something about seeing such a grown man grow so embarrassed that quickly does something to you.

“i guess i wouldn’t mind... having someone take control for once?”

everything from that point felt like a blurred flash. you quickly abandoned the bouquet and called for the bill (which he so generously covered for the two of you) and were stumbling out of the door in no time, speedily walking all the way to your humble apartment. the door had just swung open when you were already shoving him inside.

kirishima spent nearly the entirety of the walk psyching himself up for this. did you know he wanted to experiment with this? had mina told you? how would mina even know? did he even really want this? because by the way he was struggling to catch his breath and connect dots in his mind, maybe he’d gotten too far ahead of himself.

but it was too late for that now. you’d already shoved him all the way down the hall, into your bedroom, and onto your bed before he knew it. you were fierce and impatient. and honestly? he found it quite intriguing.

“red...” you drew him back from falling into his thoughts once again, dragging your knuckles across the rough skin of his cheek. “i said, are you sure you want this?” and he swears he’s never nodded faster in his life, already grabbing onto your waist and hoisting you onto his lap. “yes! yes, i’m sure. please y/n?” and with that, a thread in you snapped.

you pushed him roughly until his head rested comfortably against the pillows, muttering a quick ‘stay’ as you began to fumble with his belt. you’d barely even touched him, yet he still lied staring at you with those same big adoring eyes. he was just too cute for his own good.

it made you want to wreck him.

you practically ripped away his pants and boxers before gently palming at his cock. you had expected him to be big, but not this big. he was long and thick, your hand barely managing to wrap completely around it. wordlessly you crouched down and pressed a gentle peck to his swollen tip, the precum that’d gathered there now sticking deliciously to your lips.

kirishima was getting so restless above you that you could’ve mistaken him for a virgin, hands fisting at your sheets with countless pleas tumbling from his lips. “so impatient, cutie. dont you want to be taken care of?” “i do! i do!” it seemed as if he was completely unashamed of how desperate he must’ve looked right now.

but rather than provide the sweet sweet release you knew he was craving, you tsked and backed away from his cock. much to his disappointment. “you know something, red? i didn’t take you for the selfish type. want me to make you feel good when you haven’t even touched me yet? and i thought you were a gentleman...”

kirishima thrashed below you, fingers digging hard into your hips. “i’m a gentleman! i’ll be a gentleman! i promise!” his lip wobbled cutely. you almost felt bad for having to deny such a pretty face.

almost.

he observed closely as you leaned back on your knees, sliding down the straps of your dress and tugging until your lacy bra was revealed to him. you were going to be the fucking death of him. you couldn’t help but giggle a bit at the way he eyed your chest. “i’ll tell you what.” you said as you reached out and pressed a finger under his chin, forcing him to meet your intense eyes.

“be a good boy for me and maybe, maybe, i’ll let you touch. deal?” and kirishima nodded giddily. truly an obedient little thing, he was.

you gave him a large smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes before patting him on the cheek, moving up to straddle his face and... shit. you weren’t wearing any panties under your dress. the smell of your arousal right in front of his face nearly made him overload, wanting nothing more but to bury his face between your legs until you’re heaving and begging for a break. but he had to be good for you. wanted you to rake your fingers through his hair and call him your good boy while he plays with your pretty tits.

“well? dont you want a tas—” you gasp when his mouth is suddenly on you, every sense of restraint abandoned as his tongue slid across and pressed against your poor clit. it was messy, no real technique behind his frantic movements, but he still had your eyes crossing and your thighs squeezing the sides of his head as ear muffs, his fingers squeezing and prodding at the flesh to keep himself grounded.

the sounds that came from your cunt and his mouth were embarrassingly lewd, the sound of his slurping making your entire body go hot. you were so close to losing your composure and letting him have you the way he wants, but you couldn’t pass up an opportunity like this. not when you’ve been craving this for this long.

“kiri..” you couldnt tell if you were whispering or yelling at this point, brain all scrambled from the amount of pleasure you were receiving. you nearly doubled over from the vibrations of the small ‘hmm’ of acknowledgment he gave you. your fingers tangle themselves in his stiff red locks, holding his face still to allow you to grind yourself on his mouth just the way you wanted.

your breath hitched in your throat each time his nose bumped against your clit, his tongue buried deep in your hole as he was desperate to taste all of your juices. you could already feel your orgasm creeping up on you..

“oh, shit! just like that. good- fuck! such a good boy” the praise sends him into a frenzy, now using the pad of his thumb to rub viciously at your clit as his tongue fucked into you so nicely.

“‘m cumming, cumming, oh my god!” you’re hunched over now, eyes screwed shut when your orgasm suddenly rips through you. kirishima’s tongue continued its assault on your spasming pussy, the overstimulation becoming almost unbearable. you tried everything to get him off of you to make it stop. tugging his hair, lifting yourself up- but nothing seemed to be able to separate him from you until you literally shouted his name.

he released you in an instant and allowed you to back away to fully take in his form. everything about the sight was downright sinful. your juices covered the entire lower half of his face, and his hair remained matted with sweat against his forehead. and most delicious of all? he still looked hungry. you nearly said ‘fuck it’ and climbed back on top of him again...

but he needed to be punished.

and it seemed that he knew this too, because the moment your eyes met he was already begging for mercy. “‘m sorry! p-“ “i thought you promised you’d be a good boy? yaknow, i’m not exactly a big fan of liars, red. how could i let you have me when you can’t even follow simple instructions?” he’s silent at this point, eyes glued to the ground with an unreadable emotion splayed across his face.

you huffed as you climbed off of the bed, standing on wobbly legs with your back turned to him. you shook your head as you quickly slid your dress back into place. you originally planned on leaving it at this and sending him home, and perhaps you’d consider giving him a second shot if he begged you pretty enough. but kiri had other plans.

he wasn’t quite sure what came over him, but when he realized that you were planning on leaving him like that he couldn’t help but to jump up, gripping onto your waist once again. “kiri! what are you doing?” “please.” he whimpered into your ear, hard chest pressing into your back and his painfully hard cock rutting against your ass.

you probably would’ve collapsed right there if it weren’t for his tight grasp. “please don’t leave! ‘m so hard for you. want you so fucking bad. i’ll do anything, just- please let me cum. mommy.” the word rolled off of his tongue so sweetly, so heavenly, you couldn’t stop yourself from shoving him back onto the bed and tearing off his shirt.

you licked your lips when he was left completely bare to you finally, hand already working at pumping his cock. “suck a dirty boy. men like you are scum, you know that? getting so upset that you didn’t get your way after being so disobedient? i should tie you up and edge you for the rest of the night just for that” he began to mindlessly shake his head, muttering quiet a ‘no, no..’

“however,” you began to drag your fingernail across his chest, playing with the hairs that rested there, “think i’m gonna let it slide this time. well, only if you thank me properly..”

“thank you mommy!” the way there wasn’t even an ounce of hesitation or shame in his voice had you clenching around nothing. denying him any longer was beginning to be just as much torture to yourself as it was to him. biting down on your lip, you grabbed his cock and started pressing the tip to your entrance.

you began to feel as though you’ve managed to completely break him, watching as he continued to sputter out ‘thank you’s even as you struggled to take his cock in your dripping cunt. the stretch was nearly unbearable at first, but you were never one to back down from a challenge.

you weren’t going to stop until you knew you’ve completely broken him down into a blubbering mess for you. until you were the only thing he could think of. until you had him quivering and begging just for you. the thought of making him into your slave had you bouncing on his dick with energetic vigor.

kirishima was a sight to behold, too. eyes crossed and occasionally fluttering shut, panting like a dog as every bit of his stamina oozed out of him and he had to hold himself back from cumming too quickly.

at one point you caught his eyes glued on to the way your covered tits bounced while you rode him, still clad in your tight dress. you smirked devilishly before reaching behind your back and unclasping your bra, tugging it down with the dress once again and toying with your puffy nipples for his viewing pleasure.

that seemed to be the final straw for kiri, as he was now bucking up into you like a horny mutt. “gonna cum so hard, mommy. please let me cum in you. g’nna fill you up so good. wanna make you a mommy. i want it- i want it- i want it...” with all of his babbling you weren’t quite sure if he was aware of what he was saying right now, but the lewd words still had you spiraling closer and closer.

“cum in me, baby. be a good boy for mommy and give her your babies, okay?” you told him as you gripped his face in your hands.

and like the obedient little thing he is,, he did exactly that.

thirsts and requests for haikyuu and bnha are open.

[phantasmagoric-acquaintance]

who said anything about marriage

[read it here or on ao3]

Barry was nervous.

That was nothing new. Barry was nervous most of the time. But Barry hadn’t been nervous around Lup in decades.

There were so many things that could go wrong. For one, he could lose the ring. For the millionth time in the past half hour, he patted the outside of his jacket pocket. He felt the little box and exhaled quietly.

He could screw up the plan. They’d already made it to the restaurant on time, thank the Gods. But what if they missed the gondola ride? He’d booked the damned thing in advance, and if the rules he’d read online were any indication, the company didn’t give latecomers a whole lot of leeway. He could pop the question on the streets next to the canal, he supposed, but that was unromantic. Plus, he’d pre-paid so much for the ride.

And what if he fell? He’d made himself sick the night before reading articles about mistakes to avoid on a gondola. He knew not to try to stand, but what if he forgot? He could tip the boat and soak them both.

“Um, babe?”

Lup’s voice brought Barry out of his anxious reverie, and he remembered he’d been pouring a glass of wine, which was now very close to overflowing. “Aah!” He hastily righted the bottle, hitting the mouth against the overfilled glass in the process and very nearly knocking it over.

Lup snickered, eyes glinting with amusement. “You are a wreck,” she said as she lifted her own wine glass to her lips. There wasn’t a hint of malice in her voice or in her expression. Barry remembered that he’d probably embarrassed himself in front of her thousands of times, and she still loved him. As the waiter came by to take their orders, Barry felt himself relaxing.

That calm moment was short-lived.

When the waiter turned away from their table, Lup propped her elbows up on the table and rested her chin on her palms. “Hey, Bear?”

“Mm-hm?” Barry vocalized, sipping from his comically full wine glass.

“When are we gonna get married?”

Barry sputtered, spitting a little wine back into his glass and trying not to choke on the rest of it. “Huh?!?” Had she figured out his plan? She was clever, and he wasn’t the best at keeping secrets, but he thought he’d done a good job of keeping it from her. He’d known better, too, than to tell anyone expect Taako. Did she get it out of him?

She raised an eyebrow. “Well, don’t freak out or anything. It’s just, you know, we’ve been together for, like, I don’t know, an entire human lifespan?” She shifted her chin so that it rested only on her left palm and reached for her glass with her free hand. “I mean, we’re pretty much already married. I just thought, I dunno, maybe we should make it official.”

If Barry had been thinking, he might’ve told her “Yes! Gods, yes!” right then and there. He might’ve pulled out the ring and said, “Funny you should ask, I was thinking the same thing!” If he had been thinking, he might have realized that this moment, right here in the restaurant, was the perfect opportunity to do what he’d set out to do this evening.

But Barry wasn’t thinking. Barry was panicking.

“M-marriage? Who said anything about marriage?”

Lup set her left arm back down on the table. “Huh? Nobody said anything about it. Or, I guess I did.” She looked down at her glass and swirled it around a bit. “Geez, Barry, I wouldn’t have brought it up if I knew it’d make you all, like, panicky and sweaty and shit.”

“I-I’m not panicky and sweaty.” He was very obviously both of these things. It was this moment that the waiter came by, awkwardly setting their plates in front of them and hurrying off, sensing that whatever was happening here, it was definitely not something he wanted to be privy to any longer than necessary. “Y-you just caught me off guard, that’s all. Marriage is, you know, a big word.”

“Well, sure.” Lup picked up a fork and began swirling it in her pasta. “But, like, haven’t you thought about it before?” She lifted the fork to her mouth.

“Thought about marrying you?” Barry was drenched in sweat now.

“Mm-hm,” Lup managed through a mouthful of linguini.

“Well, no, I mean, why would I?”

This was absolutely, positively, the wrong thing to say. It might have been the worst possible thing Barry could’ve said, and he’d said it, and he couldn't take it back.

Lup swallowed her food hard and gaped at him. “Fucking excuse me?”

“Uhh…” He took a long sip of his wine.

“What do you mean, ‘Why would I?’?”

The pressure was on now, and Barry tended to falter under pressure. “I just, I mean, marriage is, it’s such a long-term commitment, you know? It, uh, ties you down and stuff.”

Lup’s eyes went even wider. “Barry, what are you trying to say?” she asked softly.

Barry threw his hands up. “Nothing! I- nothing! Just, you’re such a, a free spirit, I, uh, wouldn’t wanna… hold you back?”

She deflated, and he knew he’d dug himself deeper. “Yeah, okay.” She put her elbow back on the table, making a fist with her left hand and resting her cheekbone on her knuckles, and looked down at her plate.

Silence. Barry cut off a bit of his salmon and ate it. “Mmm!” he hummed exaggeratedly. “The salmon is amazing! How’s your food?”

Lup pushed her noodles around on her plate, not looking up. “It’s fine. Fantastic.”

They stayed like that for a while, him slowly eating his food and watching her, her only taking small occasional bites and refusing to look anywhere but her plate.

“Um, are… are you ready for the check?” Barry asked after some time.

“Hm? Oh, yeah. Whenever.” Lup stood. “Just, like, excuse me for a minute first.” She walked quickly towards the restroom.

When the door closed behind her, Barry sighed and sunk his face into his hands. He didn’t have the slightest idea how he was going to recover. “Fuck,” he breathed into his hands.

After a minute, Barry heard the sound of footsteps, distinct from the clicking of Lup’s heels, approach the table. “Barold.”

He lifted his head to see Taako, still in his full chef’s uniform, glaring at him, arms crossed. Fuck, he was really in trouble now. “Hi, Taako.” In retrospect, maybe it was a mistake to have this dinner at Lup’s brother’s restaurant. It had seemed like a sweet idea at the time. Taako had only recently gotten comfortable cooking for large crowds again, and he and Lup made efforts to support him when they could.

Taako leveled a glare at Barry. “One of my little birdies has just informed me that she saw my sister run crying into the bathroom. Would you, dear customer, mind telling me why that is?”

Barry exhaled, long and slow. “I beefed it, Taako.”

“You beefed it? What does that mean, exactly?”

“Okay, she brought up marriage out of nowhere and it threw me off and I didn’t want to spoil the proposal and I panicked and maybe I said some things I didn’t mean.”

“Such as…?”

“Such as… ‘I’ve never thought about marrying you,’ and ‘Marriage ties people down’…”

“Oh, good Gods. All because you didn’t wanna spoil some dumb overly romantic surprise?”

Barry flushed. “Well, when you put it like that…”

Taako pinched the bridge of his nose. “Barry, I don’t know how you’re going to do it, but if you know what’s good for you, you’re going to have this fixed by the end of tonight.”

Barry grimaced. “I-I’ll try.”

“You’ve also wasted my food.” Taako nodded at Lup’s mostly-untouched plate and tossed a leather check holder onto the table. “And if I find any fire damage in my bathroom, I’m charging you for that, too.” With that, Taako turned and strode back into the kitchen.

By the time Lup came out of the bathroom, Barry’s credit card had already been returned to him and he was signing the receipt. He looked up at her and tried not to wince when he noticed the mascara tracks marking paths down her cheeks from her puffy eyes. “Ready to go?”

“Mm.” She still wouldn’t look at him. He led her outside, and she leaned against the building, hugging herself and staring into space, eyes unfocused.

Barry stood next to her uneasily. “Uh, I’m going to… call the taxi now?”

“Mm-hm.”

Barry didn’t reach for his phone. Another uncomfortable silence passed.

Then, he sighed. “Okay, I-I didn’t wanna do it like this, but…”

Barry knelt down, pulled the ring box out of his pocket, and flipped it open.

Lup finally turned to face him now, stunned. “Wh-what-?”

He blushed and began rambling. “I had this whole evening planned, and there was supposed to be a gondola ride, that’s where we were supposed to go next, and I was going to ask you there, but then you brought up marriage and I panicked and I put my fucking foot in my mouth. It was so dumb, I’m so sorry I said all that shit, I didn’t mean any of it, I just really wanted it to be a surprise. Gods, I was so fucking dumb, of course I wanna marry you, if you’ll still have m-“

Lup bent down, grabbed Barry’s face, and kissed him hard.

Barry felt all the tension in his body melt away. He shut the ring box and held it securely in one hand. He brought the other up to sweep Lup’s hair behind her ear and held it there, against her cheek.

When Lup pulled away, she rested her forehead against his. “You’re a fucking wreck, baby.”

He chuckled. She was crying again and, Barry realized, so was he. “I know.”

She beamed. “We’ll work on it together, fiancé.” She gave him a quick peck on the lips. “I can’t believe you did all that for a fucking gondola ride, though. I mean, no offense, dear, but I’m kinda glad we didn’t do that.”

He grimaced. “Well, about that, I paid a lot of money for it, and there’s still time…”

Lup pouted. “Do we have to? I’d rather go home.” She kissed the corner of his mouth. “I’ll make it up to you,” she breathed.

Barry smiled. “Yeah, okay. You’ve convinced me.”

“Perfect!” Lup stood up, smirked, and held out her left hand. “Now gimme that rock!”

Taako lifted his phone off the bedside table and squinted at his notifications.

Lulu: Missed Call

Lulu: Voicemail

Remembering the scene at his restaurant the night before, he inhaled sharply and unlocked his phone. There are two ways that situation could’ve played out, he thought. He navigated to his voicemailbox and pressed play on the most recent message.

“Ugh, it’s so annoying how you’re never awake when I have news. I have big fucking news, by the way, so I’m gonna be really pissed at you if you don’t call me back within the next, like, two hours. Okay, later.”

Taako smiled. It was a relief to hear her sound so chipper. It meant this news of hers was definitely good, and it meant that Taako didn’t have to fight Barold. He sat up, rubbed the dust out of his eyes, and called his sister.

[whitedahlia13]

Do you ever think about Stydia’s library when they move in together? Because it’s gotta be all over the place with true crime, random supernatural research, and a bunch of physics and mathematics textbooks. Also The Little Mermaid obviously

Nice question! Yes, I do think about Stydia’s library. Happily. Together, Stiles and Lydia would accumulate a fascinating collection of books.

Supernatural texts are a given. There’s no denying it’s a major part of their life. Not only are they part of a pack, Lydia is a banshee. She and Stiles would want to stay as informed as possible as her abilities progress over time. There’s also the undeniable appeal of Stydia doing research – the two of them uncovering mysteries together, like they always have.

At the same time, there is this stubborn part of me that wants Stydia to have some peace and which sort of rejects the idea of their place being overrun with supernatural research. After three or four years of non-stop drama, I think they would want a break. Their home should be their sanctuary. So maybe they try to keep the supernatural stuff – the school library books they borrowed and never returned, the antique texts that Deaton gave them, Stiles’s crime board, etc. – maybe they keep those things confined to a designated area. I’d love for it to be tucked away in a walk-in closet or some sort of secret wall compartment that Stiles and Lydia engineered on a rainy weekend.

So what's on their bookshelf then? Well, over the years, Teen Wolf also gave us some hints about Stydia’s other interests. For example, Stiles has a telescope in his room, and I dunno...maybe every kid has a telescope, but I’m taking it as proof of interest. So there will be astronomy books in addition to some of the physics texts we’ve seen Lydia reading. Stiles probably also squeezed in a few (a lot of) Star Wars books, maybe even some stacks of comic books. There are auto maintenance and repair manuals too, ones specifically about CJ5s because Stiles is determined to keep the Jeep – forever. And I bet you he buys poetry books in which he underlines passages, and scribbles notes in the margins, and folds the corners of entire pages he wants to read to Lydia. Yup, in my world, Stydia read together. Often. More on that in a bit...

And Lydia is interested in literally everything. It’s obvious on TW that her knowledge is expansive, beyond math and science – we're talking languages, religions, philosophy... Little Lydia read everything she could get her hands on, and that’s part of the reason she grew into the genius we know and love. From the way she dresses and the look of her room, we can assume she loves flowers. I bet she has a nice selection of new and vintage botanical books. We also know she is artistic, so there will definitely be a fair amount of art and art history books too – everything from nouveau to the renaissance and the impressionist movement to modern art, maybe even some photography for good measure.

Since you mentioned The Little Mermaid (and I agree about that too) I’ll add that Stydia would reserve a section of their library for their favorite childhood stories. Stiles has a handful of Claudia’s books, fantasies she used to read to him when he couldn’t sleep, like The Hobbit, Peter Pan, A Wrinkle in Time, and The Wizard of Oz. Lydia’s got her complete American Girls collection and Nancy Drew Mysteries along with all the Austen and Brontë she was reading in middle school before all the other kids even knew who they were.

Because I always have to elaborate (as if I haven’t already), I’ll add that Stydia repeatedly say they have too many books in their place, that they aren’t going to buy any more. But every now and then, they sneak something new onto the shelf as a surprise for the other. And this is the part where reading to each other comes back in... After a long day, they curl up together on the couch and let the sound of each other’s voices ease away the stresses of the day. All in all, they are making a really great life for themselves.

[small-teacup]

Kidnapping? I Think You Mean Human Borrowing

Requested by: @languortears

Notes: I'm so sorry I took so long!!! D: It's a bit rushed

Ships: Intruloceit

POV: 3rd person

TW: Kidnapping, sympathetic Remus and Janus, panicked thoughts, mention of torture, skeletons and implied blood, impersonation

Let me know if I missed any, please! :D

Word Count: 1367

“That’s KIDNAPPING, Remus,” Janus explained for the 43rd time that day.

Remus opened his mouth and held up a finger, ready to say something in response before he paused and lowered his finger slightly. He seemed to have multiple ideas, instead keeping his mouth open and looking like he would finally get a few sentences out of his mouth before deflating. It was comical, to say the least. Janus sighed and shook his head, “Take your time...”

After what seemed like forever, one word managed to escape Remus’ mouth, “Borrowing.” “What?” “Kidnapping makes it sound like we’re doing some kind of crime!” “IT IS A CR-”

“What I think you meant was ‘human borrowing.’”

Janus groaned and put his face in his hands. “You know what? Fine. Human borrowing.”

================

Logan sat in his room, peacefully typing away on his laptop. Just a normal day. Nothing different, nothing new, just the same as it was the day before. He actually liked the lack of change, despite his ability to adapt to circumstances easily. Well, he’d usually be able to adapt to new circumstances. As he was working, someone came up behind him and clapped their hand over his mouth so he couldn’t scream. It didn’t seem to be needed since Logan wouldn’t have screamed anyways. Nothing could hurt a side in the Mindscape. He was about to see who it was until something hit him over the head, darkness quickly taking over his vision as he went limp.

He woke up tied to a chair in what seemed to be a basement. There was barely any light besides a flickering lightbulb hanging from the ceiling right above him. He looked around, unfazed at the shackled skeletons on the wall or the suspicious red stains on the floor. Someone suddenly covered his eyes from behind, shrill laughter filling the air.

“Guess whoooo!~” They sang, disturbingly close to Logan in a failed attempt to make him scared.

“Judging from your behavior, I’m guessing Remus?”

“Nice guess, Logan. But no, it’s Janus.” “What?? How?” Janus uncovered Logan’s eyes and stepped in front of him, a little mischievous smile playing on his face.

“I imitated Remus’ voice and attitude to trick you.”

Logan frowned and tilted his head in confusion. “But what was the point of that?”

The deceitful side shrugged and said nonchalantly, “I don’t know. There really wasn’t any. However, I find it a bit amusing considering the fact that Remus is sitting right next to you.”

“What?”

Sure enough, when Logan turned his head, Remus was sitting like a puppy on the floor next to him. He gave the logical side a seemingly menacing grin, revealing his razor-sharp teeth. Logan simply blinked at him before looking back at Janus, much to Remus’ disappointment.

“Is there a point to any of this?” He asked, half-heartedly tugging the ropes that bound him to the chair. It wasn’t that he was making an attempt to escape, it’s just that it was starting to feel uncomfortable.

Janus had summoned himself his own chair, a velvet one with hints of gold. He crossed his legs and examined his nails boredly, which confused Logan even more since he was wearing gloves. “Ask Remus, it wasn’t my plan this time.”

Logan glanced to the gremlin next to him, sighing. “Before I say anything to him, do you mind if I ask you one more question?” “Go ahead, darling.”

“You don’t seem to be lying to me at all. I’ve seen that you only lie around everyone else except Remus, which leads me to infer that you don’t lie to people you like. Do you like me in some way?” Janus froze up, a light blush finding its way onto his face. “No I don’t! Why would I like you? That’s impossible, you’ve got it all wrong. Stupid…”

He crossed his arms and looked away, huffing. It was supposed to be him and Remus getting Logan all flustered, not the other way around!

Logan turned to Remus, “So why was I kidnapped?” “Not kidnapped, you were borrowed!” Remus corrected. “...That doesn’t make sense.” “It makes perfect sense to me!”

“Answer my question, please?” “Oh! Yeah yeah yeah- so, when the others come to save you, we’ll have this epic bloody fight! Or maybe not...I dunno. And then you get saved, BUT we get to torture you until they get here! And it’ll be so fuuuuuuuuuuunnn!!!”

Logan blinked, then sighed, “I doubt there’s anything you can do to ‘torture’ me. Besides, the others aren’t coming anyway.”

The duke’s face dropped as he suddenly stood up and leaned close to Logan, his hands gripping and clawing into the chair arm. “HUH???!”

Janus had been listening to the conversation, even if it seemed like he wasn’t. The unexpected taste of truth surprised him, causing him to turn curiously to the pair in front of him.

“The others aren’t coming,” Logan repeated, assuming that Remus just didn’t hear him.

“What do you mean??! They have to! They’re your friends, aren’t they?? Plus, that sounds REALLY depressing. How’re you so okay with it??” “I’ve simply accepted it. It just seemed to be the logical thing to do. I can’t change it anyway.”

Janus said, almost a bit too calmly, “And do you think that’s a normal thing? That your friends won’t come and save you?” The logical side shrugged, “I guess not. You can’t really blame them.”

“Elaborate.” “...No,” he muttered, his eyes glazing over as he stared at the floor. Remus deflated and sat on the floor, resting his elbow on the chair arm. The next few moments were a blur for Logan. ‘They weren’t coming. I could be anywhere, dangerous or not, and they wouldn’t care. I could be dead and they wouldn’t notice. The Dark Sides might not be able to kill me, but torture is not out of the question. Mental torture, I mean. I could try and pretend that it doesn’t affect me, but I’ll eventually break and when I show my weaknesses, they’ll laugh. They’ll laugh and treat me like a joke and at that point, I might as well duck out because everyone knows that Logic is essential but Logan isn’t and they’ll be so glad to have someone else in my place that they won’t miss me at all…’

The voices around him were becoming muffled as he sank deeper into his thoughts. How much time had passed? It felt like hours already… There was a ringing in his ears that he couldn’t get rid of, considering his hands were tied behind him. In fact, he was starting to lose feeling in his arms. Was he panicking? Spiraling? But what caused it? Why was he feeling this way? Why now? What’s happening-?

“LOGAN!”

The sudden shout pulled him out of his thoughts, looking up at the two sides that stood by him, concern and worry clear on their faces. Only then did he notice his shallow breathing and the tears slowly streaming down his face. Before he knew it, a pair of arms wrapped around him in a warm hug. Without thinking, he latched onto the person, recognizing the smell of trash and about a thousand years of no showering. Wait- what? He was surprised at the sudden freedom. When did they cut the ropes? Nevermind that…

A gloved hand cupped his face gently, the scent of crisp apples and linen going along with it. He leaned into the touch. It felt..comforting. It felt like home. Maybe this was where his home really was..?

“Remus? Janus?” The two sides looked at him, a silent cue for him to go on.

“..Can I stay with you guys? If that’s alright.”

Remus let go and stared at him wide-eyed. He looked over at Janus and back at Logan. It seemed like Janus was doing the same.

“Of course you can-!” The deceptive side blurted out before clearing his throat and pulling his hand away, inspecting his nails that he couldn’t see. “I mean- I suppose you could.”

Logan laughed, to both the dark sides’ delight. It sounded magical like bells ringing.

Never in Logan’s life had he been so glad to have been kidnapped.

(This fanfic wasn't proofread and neither was this post-)

[etherealxgenie]

Why ‘Adrien is Oblivious’ is a Misconception || Miraculous Why?

(Before I begin, note that this is my opinion over the topic and am no way am bashing anyone’s love for a ship and/or character. I respect who and what you like, therefore expect the same courtesy. However, if this is something you cannot handle, please click the back button as this will be a heavily discussed topic. Critiques are welcomes, Flames will be deleted. Other than that, enjoy.)

So I know I said I don’t normally get involved when it comes to the Miraculous fandom, but there’s always one thing that’s been bothering me from nearly the beginning since the series began.

Even before I had the ugly divorce from the love square after Desperada, I always found it hard to believe with the way Marinette behaved around Adrien was completely unnoticeable. And because of the way Adrien seems to not take note of it, fans (pure and toxic) automatically make the assumption that he’s oblivious or dumb.

But did people ever take the time to divulge why and to view it in his perspective? Aside from the excuse of bad writing, I think there could be other reasons as to why Adrien doesn’t acknowledge her behavior. And she doesn’t hide her feelings around him either while wearing the mask either, so far that she makes the same stuttering speeches and frantic hand motions.

But here’s a list of reasons for Adrien to have which can be plausible:

1) He IGNORES it. 



Now before you go and start bashing the poor boy (god knows the fandom lacks the sympathy), keep in mind Adrien IS a celebrity of Paris. I dunno exactly how the celebrity lifestyle maybe different for the U.S, but I’m pretty sure this would have to do of how he was taught. As the face of Gabriel and with the reaction from several fans alone, Adrien was probably told by Gabriel in regards about fans and how they would react to him and how he has to ignore such barbaric measures. And given the way he sees fans react to him (Gorizilla), he believes his father is right.

In regards of Marinette, he hopes to make a friend for her instead of seeing her as one of his fans, even if he appreciates the support.

2) He’s looking for FRIENDSHIP, not ROMANCE

Adrien is starting a new chapter in his life and is looking for some normality at his new school. More so, he’s looking to make more friends. There could be to some reasons why for one of wanting a better friendship than what Chloe or Felix had set an example for. Mainly of course for the fact that Adrien is lonely and looking for companionship of his choice.

But he’s not in the rush for a straight out relationship.

I know what you’re thinking: “But he’s asked out Ladybug constantly! What the hell are you talking about?”. Well truth be told, Adrien as Chat may just be looking for an excuse to hang out with her. There’s no denial he’s attracted to her personality or admires her, but he DOES wants to get to know her first. Which is something Marinette fails to let happen as both herself AND Ladybug.

Now it is true Marinette has done things to help and may know stuff about him (either through stalking or researching online), but she hasn’t taken the time to get to know him on a personal level. She doesn’t know if he’s an anime lover, what he dreams of doing or how he likes puns. And as Ladybug when he show his more true self, she automatically rejects him with the somewhat reasonable excuse fear for identities. I’ll leave that alone as I’ll do another thing on identities later.

So in regards of Marinette’s ‘love’ (obsession), Adrien is just looking for friendship with her and not love. He’s not ready for a full on relationship yet where he’s starting fresh on friendships, which is why dating Kagami didn’t work out (I didn’t need to watch S4 to predict that). She pressured him into a relationship and expected them to be the perfect couple. It was clear he was not ready and yet seemed to ignore it anyway for her feelings towards him. For a healthy relationship to work, you need to think about the ‘we’ and not ‘me’ and to take time.

3) He’s SOCIALLY CHALLENGED

We don’t know how it really was when Emilie was around, but it seemed regardless Adrien had a strict childhood. His father, Gabriel Agreste, seems to have the main say of his life to control him as he saw fit, to mold Adrien the way HE wants him too. And because of such strictness, Gabriel is the kind of person to only tell Adrien the needed lesson to keep him under his thumb along with keeping him isolated.

Similar of how Judge Claude Frollo did to Quasimodo. Just as Mother Gothel did to Rapunzel and Cassandra.

And for those reasons alone, Adrien is left without the majority skills needed to make it on his own, including how to socialize and interact in a way with certain people. The only socializing skills he had probably was how to interact in regards of fans or how to avoid bad publicity. Something enough in regards to being a celebrity. Gabriel didn’t nor has planned for Adrien to have any interaction with others beyond that.

This particular reason alone helps understand his plight more and why 90% salt/bashing/hate thrown at him is completely unnecessary. Especially during ‘Chameleon’ and ‘Ladybug’.

Adrien is like Quasimodo and Rapunzel, being thrust into the new world after escaping their tower only to discover many things they’re not familiar with. Imagine being at the age of 14 but your parents haven’t been the best and haven’t taught you how to socialize with certain people. Then the teen could act in a certain way with anyone: friends, adults and even strangers in which they teen can be taken advantage of.

But how does he adapt quickly to being Chat Noir, you ask? Adrien probably had only but fantasies to fall back on whenever he’s isolated and alone. Probably even dreamed of a superhero rescuing him or taking him away to a new life where he’s free to be himself. His greatest nightmare shown in “Sandboy” is nothing about Ladybug or anyone else, but being locked away in his room for the rest of his life.

He’s no doubt a secret comic geek and probably dreamed of being a hero himself. Chat Noir is far from perfect, but he catches on of how a true hero should act. He’s also adapts quickly and is perceptive of behaviors. Like the way Ladybug and Fu doesn’t tell him the entire truth of what they plan for the future and try to isolate him from it. And between the two, Chat Noir perfects more of hiding his identity. Not for the fact of probably reading about it, but because Chat is someone he always wanted to be that he can’t as Adrien.

So the next time if you observe the show or read any works in regarding Adrien’s behavior and before you chalk it up as oblivious, dumb, stupid or selfish… how about you dive into his perspective and try to understand more of his side? There’s two sides to every story.

[fridayfirefly]

Retirement

Read Retirement on AO3

Masterlist

For Maribat March Day 21 - Domestic Bliss

The first time Marinette and Garfield ever discussed retirement was before they even started dating. For superheroes, retirement was just a fact of life. One day, if you make it long enough, you'll put down the suit and you'll never pick it up again. Maybe someone will take your place. Hopefully, no one will need to. But no matter how strong you are, not even if you're Superman in his prime, the simple fact was that someday you would retire.

"What do you think you'll do after you retire?" Marinette mused to Garfield. Out of all the Titans, Marinette spent the most time around Gar, simply because the two of them spent a lot of time in the living room. Marinette liked the ambient noise that his video games provided when she worked on her projects, and Gar liked to have someone to talk to while he played. Most of Marinette's current focus was on the embroidery in her hands, as she stitched vines running down the sleeves of her shirt, but she still took the time to start a conversation with Gar.

"I dunno..." Gar glanced up from the game he was playing. "What'll you do once you give up being Ladybug."

"That's a tough question. I used to think that I wanted to run a big fashion company, like Agreste Fashion, but now I think I want something a little more low-key. In my ideal future, I own a little boutique where I make custom clothing. There would be a fabric store and a café on the same block as me, and I would never have to leave the neighborhood."

"That sounds nice. I think I might try going to college and see where that takes me. I applied to Jump City University right before Christmas, and they accepted me. If I went, I would start classes in the fall.”

Marinette’s head jerked up as she gave Gar her full, undivided attention. “I’m going to JCU next fall!” she exclaimed excitedly. “We might have classes together. What are you planning on majoring in?”

Gar shrugged, “JCU has a veterinary program that I'm interested in. I'd be taking animal behavior, biology, chemistry, and a whole bunch of other science classes.”

“That’s so cool!”

“It’s nothing much. I didn’t expect them to accept me, anyway.”

Gar seemed oddly subdued about the idea of going to college. He was a naturally enthusiastic person, which made it very out of character for him to be so dismissive. It worried Marinette. “No, you deserve praise for your accomplishment. Jump City University is a very selective school.”

“I’m not a genius. I’m just me.”

“You’re smart, Gar, I know you are. Getting accepted to JCU is just one of the many reasons why you are brilliant.”

“Are you gonna name them all for me?” joked Gar.

His question was rhetorical, just a joke, but Marinette wasn't finished convincing Gar that he deserved all the praise in the world. “For starters, you can finish any video game in less than a day. Even the ones where you need logic and strategy, you fly right through them. Secondly, you’re a genius when it comes to animals. And it’s not just because of your superpower. You taught yourself animal behavior so that you could blend in with the animals you’re imitating. Thirdly, you pretend not to be invested in politics, but I’ve seen how you keep yourself informed about environmental policies and activism. You really care about the planet. Fourthly-“

"Alright, Buginette,” laughed Gar, a slight blush on his cheeks. “You’ve proven your point.”

Marinette set her embroidery down on the coffee table and moved to Gar's couch. "Is this game multiplayer?"

"Yep. Do you want to play a few rounds?"

"Hmm... I think I could spare a few minutes to kick your butt."

"Please. I'm going to squash you like the little bug you are."

"You wish!"

----------

The next time Marinette and Gar discussed retirement was well after they started dating. They got together in their Junior year at JCU after spending two years in relationship limbo, with both too nervous to make the first move. They finally confessed their feelings for each other after Dick and Starfire locked them in a closet together until they admitted that they liked each other. They graduated college as a couple, with Gar planning on attending veterinary school and Marinette planning on starting up her fashion business. That summer they spent a lot of time talking about the future.

"I've been thinking of recruiting someone to take over as Ladybug," remarked Marinette as she cuddled up next to Gar on the couch.

"Really? Who do you have your eye on?" asked Gar.

"Wonder Woman recently took on a new protege, Cassie Sandsmark. The Ladybug Miraculous already has some connections to Wonder Woman and her home of Themyscira. Her mother, Queen Hippolyta, was a wielder of the Ladybug Miraculous for quite some time."

"If you gave up the Miraculous would you still fight crime?"

Marinette shook her head. "I think it might be time to give up crimefighting. It's been ten years since I took up the Ladybug Miraculous to fight Hawkmoth, and six years since Hawkmoth was defeated. I wasn't ready to give up that responsibility then, but I think I'm ready now."

"When would you give up the Miraculous?"

"Soon. I talked to Wonder Woman about it last week and she's enthusiastic about the idea. I would need to spend some time getting to know Cassie, just to make sure she's a good fit, and Tikki would need to vet her as well, but I have a good feeling that she'll pass any tests of character we put her through." Marinette turned to face Gar. "I didn't want to make any concrete decisions before I talked to you. I know that we've always fought crime together, but I'm ready to move on with my life. I'm ready to retire."

Gar nodded. "I understand and I fully support your decision. I've been considering leaving the Titans as well. I know I could continue living in the Tower and attend veterinary school at JCU, but last week I got an acceptance letter from UC Davis for their School of Veterinary Medicine."

Marinette's eyes widened. "Gar, that's amazing! I remember looking into UC Davis when you were applying, and their program is nationally ranked."

Gar grinned. "The best in the country. It's too good to pass up."

"You have to go!" exclaimed Marinette. "This is your dream!"

"I think I'll send in my acceptance tomorrow," decided Gar. "Maybe we can go to Davis this weekend and scout out an apartment."

"And fabric stores," chimed in Marinette.

Gar laughed. "Anything for you, Buginette."

----------

The final time Marinette and Gar discussed retirement was years later. Marinette and Gar had gotten married and had moved back to Jump City. Marinette opened her fashion boutique, which had very quickly exploded in popularity. Gar started working for a non-profit veterinary clinic, which provided free veterinary services to lower-income neighborhoods. They had both achieved their dreams, and yet neither seemed content with their lives.

"Maybe we just need a change of scenery," suggested Marinette, leaning her head against Gar as they both sat on the beach watching the sunset. "I'm so tired of the city."

"Maybe," said Gar. "It would be nice to have a house with a backyard, rather than just an apartment."

Marinette sighed. "I know that I always said that I wanted to be the owner of a successful boutique, but this wasn't really what I had in mind. I'm so busy that I feel like I never get to spend any time with you anymore. Every day my inbox is filled with emails asking me to sell my company or expand to more locations. I'm tired of it. My passion is for making clothes, not running a business."

"I know how you feel. Every day I encounter another neglectful pet owner who brings their animal to the clinic for help but refuses to listen to me when I tell them that they need to change the way they treat their animal. It's exhausting."

"We could both just quit our jobs and move into the woods," joked Marinette.

Gar nodded, but he wasn't joking. "I've actually been thinking about that. There are a lot of remote regions with a real need for veterinary practices to provide medical assistance for the farm animals out there. I would feel a lot more useful taking care of animals that don't have anyone else."

Marinette turned to face Gar. "I wouldn't mind moving. I've been sending all of the offers to buy my boutique straight to my email archive, but I'm sure if I looked through them all I could find someone who would be able to take care of the business aspect of Ladybug Designs. I could retire from the business and design on my own time, when the inspiration strikes, instead of forcing myself to churn out design after design."

"You really wouldn't mind?" asked Gar, a hopeful look on his face.

Marinette shook her head. "I was serious about moving out of the city. There's something I've been wanting to tell you for a while, but I've been waiting for the right moment. I think that moment is now. Gar, I'm pregnant."

The deer-in-the-headlights look on Gar's face was comical, to say the least. Marinette giggled, "Well?"

Gar snapped back to reality, transforming into an elephant, trumpeting his joy. He turned back into himself and wrapped his arms around Marinette. "I'm so happy! This is the best news I could have ever heard, Buginette. Now we have to move. I want our kid to have a backyard and a dog and a big driveway where I can teach them how to ride a bike and a pond where they can swim in the summer-"

Marinette cut Gar off with a kiss. "One thing at a time," she giggled.

"I think this will be the best decision we have ever made," declared Gar.

Marinette agreed. "I think that partial retirement will be good for us."

----------

This was bliss. The feeling of grass under Marinette’s bare feet as she walked back to the house from the lake, hand in hand with Gar. The sound of their daughter's laughter as she danced around them, catching fireflies. The taste of homemade apple pie and vanilla ice cream, eaten rebelliously early as Gar proclaimed, "Dessert before dinner!" The sight of the stars up above them, no light pollution to mask the beauty of the heavens. The sound of Gar's voice, whispering, "I love you, Buginette," into Marinette's ear. And as Marinette settled into her husband's arms, she knew for certain that retirement was the best decision she had ever made.

@maribatmarch-2k21

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

BTS DRABBLE

@gemad08 (I hope it was you who requested this! I can’t remember!): Reader listens to another group’s music and her BTS boyfriends all have very different feelings about that. 

Tags: BTS, Bangtan Boys, Bangtan Seonyendan, Bulletproof Boy Scouts, Beyond the Scene, BTS Drabble, Fluff, Request, Ask, BTS x you, BTS x reader, Kim seokjin, Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok, Kim Namjoon, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, Jeon Jungkook, OT7, boyfriend AU

Genre: Fluff

Title: Playlist

KIM SEOKJIN

“What are you listening to?” Questions Jungkook curiously, as he plops down on the sofa beside you, removing his inner ear piece and reaching up to wipe the sheen of sweat from his forehead. 

You pull out one of your own headphones and offer him a slight smile, readjusting the homework you had been working on on your lap. “Oh you know, this and that.” 

Jungkook nods, reaching across you to snag an unopened water bottle from the table, before he gulps down almost half of it in one swell swoop. “Yeah, my playlists tend to be a little bit of everything too.” 

The couch dips under Jin’s weight as your boyfriend arrives and settles down on your other side, his own hair damp with exertion, as he glances over at you with one eyebrow arched in a look of slight teasing, reaching for your dangling headphone, “It better be our stuff, jagi, or I’ll question your loyalty as a girlfriend.” 

You open your mouth, but before you can respond, he places the headphone in his ear, and you watch as his eyes widen and his lips purse into a comical pout that has you holding back laughter. 

“Yah, jagi!” Jin exclaims, ripping the headphones out of both of your ears, as he stares you down with a look akin to dramatic hurt and betrayal. “You’re listening to WinnerWinner?!” 

You offer him a sheepish smile, before sticking your tongue out and putting the headphones back in your ears, though you don’t miss the sound of Jungkook laughing over the beats of your music. 

“I like their stuff.” You protest, pointing to the homework in your lap. “It’s good study music. Helps me focus.” 

“And our stuff can’t??” Jin complains in an incredulous voice, mouth still drawn into a deeper pout than before if possible. “Our stuff is great for studying! Take Moon for example, or Epiphany!” 

“That’s your stuff.” You tease back gently, before leaning over to press a kiss to his full, plump, still pouting lips. “Besides, you don’t need to be jealous. You’re the only one I kiss after all.” 

You grin at him, as he harumphs and throws an arm grumpily across your shoulders, tugging your body against his own. “I better be.” He whines out, as both you and Jungkook laugh once more. 

MIN YOONGI

“Yoongi, how much longer?” You whine from your position on the futon in his studio, feet kicking loosely in the air, head dangling upside down from one of the arms, as you adjust your headphones in your ear. “I’m hungry.” 

“All right, all right.” Your boyfriend grumbles, shutting off the screen of his computer, and getting up to cross the room to you. He flicks the crown of your head, making you yelp and sit upright again, as he sinks into the cushions beside you. “What’re you listening to anyway?” 

You offer him the free headphone willingly, and he puts it to his ear, face immediately pulling into a look of distaste at the sounds of Zico’s smooth rap coming through the speakers. 

“Why are you listening to this shit?” Yoongi asks, pulling the headphone from his ear as quickly as he had placed it there, shooting you a sharp look of disapproval. 

“I like it.” You pull your own headphone loose and shoot him a glare in return, voice defensive as you begin to coil up the wire and shove it into your purse. “It’s catchy.” 

“Really?” Yoongi looks at you with a stare of disbelief, and you feel your cheeks heat up, as if he’s caught you red handed doing something you shouldn’t. “Who taught you what was good music?” 

“Myself.” You sniff, though you can’t stay mad at him, because the look of utter confusion and absolute pure surprise on his face at your music choices has you wanting to bust into giggles. 

“That stuff is crap.” Yoongi stands from the couch and waves a hand at your phone, motioning to your music taste as a whole. He cocks his head as he looks down at you, and the hint of a superior smirk begins to lift his lips, as he says firmly, “I guess I need to educate you on what’s good music, baby. I didn’t know you were so naive.” 

You scoff and stick your tongue out at him, as he whirls his desk chair around and motions for you to sit. 

“But what about food?” You complain, stomach still grumbling hungrily as you take a seat, Yoongi reaching around you to turn on the computer. 

“I’ll get delivery.” He says nonchalantly, clicking into a folder on the desktop. “This is much more important.” 

You sigh in defeat and lean back. “How many of these songs are gonna be your own, Min Yoongi?” You ask suspiciously, looking up at him standing over you, as he offers you the hint of a smile and presses a kiss to your upturned forehead. 

“I’ll try to keep it to a minimum.” He teases, before hitting play. 

JUNG HOSEOK

“Everything I need is on the ground-” 

You sing along to the lyrics of the song that is blasting from the speakers underneath your breath, as you continue your sweeping circle of the kitchen, doing little skip hops to the beat of the music when it tickles your fancy. 

You’re feeling good. 

You’re done with work for the week, you’re pretty sure you’re getting delivery for dinner tonight instead of cooking, and your boyfriend should be home any minute from the studio. 

Not to mention, Rose’s new song is kicking. 

Speak of the devil. 

Just as you’re glancing at the clock, the sound of a lock is heard in the front door and Hobi bursts into the apartment, face bright and red from practice, hair slicked back with sweat that has long since dried, ankles ringed in old, but extremely comfortable tennis shoes. 

“Hey jagi!” He calls, loud voice sounding clear even over the loud music, as he dumps his duffle bag onto the couch and kicks his shoes to the side, before entering the kitchen where you’re just emptying the last dustpan of debris into the trash. 

He circles his arms around your waist and gives you a blinding sunshine smile, before peppering your face with kisses that make you laugh until you’re out of breath. 

“I missed you.” He says in your ear, and you giggle, as his lips find another place to plant a kiss beneath the juncture of your jaw. 

“You’d think you hadn’t just seen me this morning, Jung Hoseok.” You berate teasingly, covering his hands at your waist with your own, as you turn in his arms to face him. Reaching up to push loose strands of dark hair from his forehead, you ask with a tilt of your head, “Wanna order in tonight?” 

“Yes please!” Hobi’s eyes light up at the thought of delivery and cuddling and a night spent in with you, and then they widen slightly, as he tilts his head, as if listening, to the repeating song that is still blaring over the sound system for the first time. “Is this Rose’s new one?” He asks, and you can hear the excitement in his tone. 

You nod, and before you can say anything, he is sweeping you around in circles to the beat of the newly started song, making you laugh once more, before he calls out, “I love this song! It’s so damn catchy!” 

“I can tell.” You say through your laughter, as he releases you on a spin and begins to do a little impromptu solo dance around the clean kitchen. 

“Is it on repeat?” Hobi asks, cha cha-ing real smooth over to you, before he takes your hands once more. 

You nod. “Of course.” 

“Great.” He grins, and the sunshine between his teeth is blinding, as he pulls you into another goofy spin. “Keep it going all night.” 

KIM NAMJOON

Namjoon slides into the passenger seat, and you lean over to turn the music down-having turned it up to listen to it loudly with the windows down while you drove-and open your mouth to ask him about his day. 

He beats you to it though, catching you off guard, as he eyes the name of the song on the car display curiously. “You’re listening to Jackson’s stuff?” 

You blush, feeling embarrassed for some stupid reason, and turn the song almost off, as you reach to put the car into gear. “Yes? I really like his new album.” 

“That’s good.” Namjoon says softly, almost as if he’s thinking, as he stares out the car window as you pull out of the studio’s parking lot. “He’ll be happy to hear that.” 

You drive in silence for a bit, and you’re wondering if you’re imagining the sudden weird air between you and your boyfriend. Maybe it’s just you? It’s gotta be in your head, right? 

You glance at Namjoon out of the corner of your eye, and you note he looks tired. As you turn onto the main road, you ask gently, “Everything go okay today?” 

“Hmmm?” Namjoon questions beneath his breath, glancing over at you, as if you have pulled him from his thoughts. He offers you the hint of a smile. “Oh,  yeah! Everything was fine. Super busy. Like it always is.” 

You nod, tightening and loosening your fingers on the steering wheel, as silence once again prevails. 

Why is this weird. Was it because of the music? 

You glance at the display, and see another one of Jackson’s songs scrolling across the heading. 

Was it weird to listen to your boyfriend’s best friend’s music? Was that some sort of faux pas you weren’t aware of? 

Shit. 

“Namjoon-” You start to say, and when he looks at you, you force yourself to swallow and keep going. “Does it upset you if I listen to Jackson’s stuff? If so, I’ll stop-” 

“What?” Namjoon looks startled, catching you off guard, and his eyes widen as he stares at you. “Why would that upset me?” 

“I dunno.” You shrug, suddenly feeling sheepish that you had made this into a deal at all. “I just didn’t know-” 

“Baby.” Namjoon leans across the center console, his large, warm palm going to rest on your thigh, as his whole face suddenly breaks out into an amused grin. “You can listen to whoever you want. I don’t care.” He winks at you. “And I was being serious about Jackson being excited to hear you like his stuff. Hell, I like his stuff.” 

“Why were you so quiet then?” You ask, relieved, yet not being able to stop yourself now. 

“Oh.” Namjoon settles back into his seat, leaning his head back and closing his eyes, as his fingers start to stroke lazy patterns across the jean covered skin of your thigh. He cracks an eye open and shoots you a mischievous grin. “I was just contemplating all of the shit I can show you now that I know you like Jackson’s music. There’s so much in his vault that hasn’t been released to the public that I have access to.” 

Your mouth dropped open. “Really?” 

Namjoon closed his eyes once more, but not before shooting you another wink. “Really. Buckle up, baby. If you want Jackson Wang, I’ll give you Jackson Wang.” 

PARK JIMIN

“Jimin, this is so stupid.” You huff out, as you try to jump two stairs at a time, keeping up with your boyfriend as he doggedly works his way upward. 

Damn. For a short guy, he’s really fast. 

“Is it?” Jimin asks over his shoulder sharply, not looking at you, as you finally reach the floor that houses the building’s gym and push through the door. He holds it open for you, even though he’s mad, and you’re glad he’s not angry enough to have forgotten the habit. That bodes well. 

“Yeah, it is.” You snap back, reaching up to wipe some sweat from the back of your neck,as you adjust your dangling headphones. Why did you agree to work out with him. You should have known better. The walk up the five flights of stairs had been enough. “It’s ridiculous.” 

“Hmmm okay.” Jimin hums out mockingly, already headed for the treadmill, as he raises the incline and stretches his ankles, shooting you a heated glare. “Fine. So you won’t mind if I start religiously listening to Girl’s Generation.” 

“No?” You pose it as a question, because the idea of that upsetting you just doesn’t compute into your head. 

“See, it doesn’t make sense to you, because you’re not an artist.” Jimin complains, sliding his own headphones into his ears as he turns on the treadmill and starts into a brisk jog. 

“Whatever.” You roll your eyes and head to the elliptical, as far from your moody boyfriend as you can go. 

There is nothing but silence and the sound of breathing and the machines, until Jungkook comes into through the door minutes later, towel slung around his neck, curls already damp with sweat, and you just know he has already been doing some insane pre-workout before his actual workout. 

Crazy bastard. 

“Hey, (Y/N)!’ Jungkook calls out cheerfully, with a bunny grin and a wave of his hand in your direction. 

“She probably can’t hear you. She’s listening to her favorite band.” Jimin snarks in before you can answer his friend, face dark as he continues to sprint through the workout on the treadmill. 

Jungkook looks curiously between the two of you, and you stop what you’re doing, letting out an irritated sigh. 

“Jungkook, tell Jimin this is stupid.” You say, standing and stretching your arms above your head, as you stick your tongue out at your still grumpy boyfriend. “He’s upset because he found out I like listening to GOT7 more than your stuff, and now he’s throwing a jealousy tantrum.” 

“I am not!” Jimin yanks the headphones out of his ears and points in your direction, past the bewildered Jungkook who stands in the middle of you two. “You told me, and I quote ‘It’s weird to listen to your stuff, because you’re my boyfriend.’“ 

“Well it is!” You shout back, cheeks red, whether from the exercise or the heat of the stupid, teasing argument that had gotten well out of hand. 

“Okay, you guys are both being stupid.” Jungkook steps in, holding his hands out as a peace offering between your two heaving chests, as if worried you’re going to come to blows. He glances over at Jimin. “Jimin, your girlfriend can listen to anyone she wants. She’s not your property. You tend to get jealousy, but you don’t need to, because you should know how crazy in love with you she is.” 

He glances over to you next, face stern, and you already feel your heart calming in your chest at his words, and Jimin must feel the same, because he doesn’t look quite as riled as before. 

“And (Y/N), just because you’re dating an idol doesn’t mean that you have to listen to their music. But try to be a little more sympathetic yeah? We work hard on our shit, and you gotta take into account how Jimin feels.” 

You sigh, and glance across the wise younger boy to Jimin, who looks slightly remorseful now. “Fine.” You sigh out, reaching out to offer him a hand. He shakes it, twining his fingers with yours at the last minute. “I’ll try to broaden my perspective.” 

“And I’ll try to tone down the jealousy.” Jimin concedes, finally offering you the hint of a smile as his full lips curl upward. 

“However.” You shake a finger at the two boys. “I’m not listening to, or watching, or ever liking, Go Go. And you can’t make me.” 

They groan, and you laugh before pulling the two of them into a hug. 

KIM TAEHYUNG

“Hey jagi, have you seen my-” 

You glance up as your boyfriend comes into the room, his words stuttering to a stop as he pauses in the doorway to stare at you, lacing up your nikes by the front door. 

“What?” You ask, slightly self consciously, as you glance down at the running outfit you wear-athletic shorts and a sheer tank top covering a brightly colored sports bra, complete with dangling earphones and comfy running shoes-wondering what he’s staring at. 

“Nothing.” Taehyung shakes his head, a sly smile coming across his features, as he creeps across the room as if he’s stalking you, before grabbing you around the waist and crushing you to him, lips going to your ear and voice low. “You just look good enough to eat, that’s all.” 

You blush and bat at him, but he doesn’t release you. “Stop. You’re so gross.” 

“I can’t help it that my girlfriend is super hot.” He drags his lips up the curve of your neck in a line of sloppy kisses, making you laugh and try to pull away from him once more. “You know the only reason I go running with you is so I can watch your ass in those short shorts.” He slaps his hand across said ass, and you yelp. 

“Will you quit?” You swat him away again, more aggressively this time, as he finally releases his hold on your waist, but doesn’t pull away from you, as he grabs one of your headphones and holds it up to his ear. 

“What’s your running playlist?” Taehyung asks curiously, and you grin, pushing play on the first song. He furrows his brows and shakes his head, motioning to you. “Mmmm nope. Next.” 

You skip forward to the next song, and suddenly, his eyes are going wide and his mouth is forming an o and an overly manic excited look is entering his normal expression. 

You glance down at the song name and instantly see why. 

“Holy shit, I love this song.” Taehyung exclaims, wiggling his body to the sound of gangnam style and Psy’s upbeat vocals. 

“I know.” You laugh, before he shoves the headphones back into your hand, catching you by surprise, as he darts past you back the way he had came. “What are you doing??” 

“I gotta get my kazoo.” Taehyung calls over his shoulder, then stops in his tracks, glancing back at where you still stand in place. “Actually, on second thought.” He retreats on fast steps and grabs your hand, dragging you along with him toward the office, ignoring your weak protests. “You better come along. I’m about to blow your mind. I can play this song on both kazoo and keyboard.” 

JEON JUNGKOOK

Jungkook’s brow is furrowed, his normally caramel eyes dark, lips set into a thin line, and you know. You know that look. 

He’s getting competitive. 

They don’t call him the golden maknae for nothing, right? 

“Jungkook.” You say in a warning tone, already knowing where his mind is going. 

“There’s no way.” Jungkook huffs out, pulling the headset from off his ears as he shoots you a look of utter fire, eyes hard and set. “There’s no way they’re better than us.” 

You sigh, and the sound is slightly amused and slightly exasperated. “Kook, I didn’t say they were better than you-” 

“Then why listen to them?” He cuts you off, throwing the headset aside and rising to pace the room, before he comes back to stand behind the couch, fingers clenched around the back cushion as he stares into the distance. 

“I like their music?” You offer helplessly, as you watch him spiral into that competitive frame of mind that you find halfway hot as hell and halfway infuriating as all get out. 

“You really think they’re better than us?” Jungkook asks, interrupting you, as if he hadn’t just heard a word of the answer you had offered. He glances down at you, eyes dark beneath the fringe of his long hair, long hair that’s getting slightly out of control and is fringing on tangled mess of curls. “Why are they better? how are they better?” He mutters to himself, eyes focusing on something far away, as he continues on in disbelief. “Oneus? Really?” 

You roll you eyes and push yourself up from the couch, circling around to stand behind him, sliding your hands around his narrow waist, allowing yourself to feel the muscles of his abdomen beneath his sweatshirt before you finally speak. “Kookie, can you not. Just this once. Please.” 

“Not what?” He asks, suddenly curious, as he glances back at you, doe eyes wide, as if he’s not even aware of what he’s doing. 

“Not compete?” You ask with slight amusement, brows raised in pleading in your boyfriend’s tense direction. 

His shoulders relax slightly, and he turns to face you, returning your embrace, his chin resting comfortably on the crown of your head. “Sorry, jagi. Habit.” 

“You wanna be the best, I get it.” You hum back, leaning back to connect your lips with his, as the hint of smile starts across your face. “However.” You reach up to push the hair back from his forehead, admiring his handsome, flawless features as he stares down at you. “To me, no one will ever be better than you, Jeon Jungkook.” 

His features soften, and he offers you the bunny smile you love so much. “Really?” 

“Really.” You grin in return, and reach up to tap the end of his nose with your finger before leaning in to give him another quick kiss. “You’re the best there is.” 

[fluffypeachwriting]

Hitoya deserves love, can i request senario when a fem so is upset because she saw a woman (works with Hitoya in office) clinging to him like a leach and reader, please make it from angst to fluff

I don’t know if the ending counts as fluff, but it’s still a happy ending ヽ(*・ω・)ﾉ I hope I can do Hitoya justice as he can be kinda hard to write for, especially with angst, which isn’t my forte as of now  (シ_ _)シ This was a fun writing experience though, and I’m happy to get your request!

Either way, I hope you enjoy, and I’m sorry you had to wait so long for this  (⊃｡•́‿•̀｡)⊃

A new employee at Hitoya’s law firm seemed to take a liking to your boyfriend. It started with a few flirty lines, and nothing more. Hitoya never responded to them, and that was fine. He probably didn’t want to add fuel to the fire. The whole situation was easy to brush it off in the beginning, since you were well aware of how attractive Hitoya was, and that anyone could be under his spell.

The woman in question knew about your relationship with Hitoya too. The two of you weren’t super affectionate in public, especially at work, but she definitely saw the way you lovingly looked at him when he brought you a coffee and some cake during your shift, and the way he softly smiled back at you. After all, she sat right across from you. She would wait a few minutes, tapping her nails on the table, and eventually get up to go to his office. Then, after purposefully leaving the door just open enough for you to see, she would perch on his desk and laugh at every word he said, putting her fingertips to her lips in a faux-shy kind of way. The sight made your heart leap up your throat and thump in your ears.

The worst part was that she was pretty cute, looks wise. If you didn’t know anything about her personality, you would have compared her to the sexy love interest option in an anime. She made office wear look good, and you never saw her look undignified. Sometimes she leaned towards a femme fatale-type. That idea was constantly reinforced every time she placed her hand on Hitoya’s arm, playfully swatting at him when he got grouchy, and batted her eyelashes when she wanted something from him.

If she was doing this to literally any other person in the office – hell, some people there would kill to have this woman dote on them – you would probably find it funny. Her attempts at ‘seducing’ him were bordering on comical.

This whole charade wasn’t private. The office was getting annoyed too. Not by you, of course. The woman was pretty good at her little admin job, so any chance of getting her out of the office relied on her stepping over the line with Hitoya.

Hitoya continued to ignore this woman, but he never shooed her away or told her to stop. There was a tiny voice in the back of your mind, whispering nasty ideas into your head – the possibility that Hitoya was actually enjoying this attention couldn’t be shaken off.

One night, as you were both in bed, you rolled over and asked: “Hitoya, do you love only me?”

He replied, without turning to face you: “Hn? ‘Course, whaddya mean?”

“I just… the new girl at work is kinda clingy with you. Can you tell her to knock it off?”

“She’s not hurting anyone.”

You sat up in bed and rested your hands in your lap, hesitant to look at Hitoya. “Wait, so you’re gonna defend her? But she’s clearly into you. She knows we’re a thing and… please just tell her to quit it.”

There was a momentary silence, and in the dark room you could almost see the woman in front of you, doing her typical sly giggle. Maybe she had already won.

“You’re worrying over nothing. Go to sleep, you’re probably stressed and tired. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

But it had been many mornings since this all began. The clock read 9:45pm. It was too late to go out for fresh air now, and you had work in the morning.

“Okay, goodnight.” You laid back down in bed and laid on your side, facing away from your partner.

“Goodnight.”

You bit your lip to stop yourself from crying, and waited until you could hear Hitoya’s light snoring before feeling relaxed enough to fall asleep.

The next morning, you woke up to an empty bed. There was a note on your bedside table – Hitoya had gone to work early to prep for a few new prospect hires visiting.

Phew! Maybe that woman wouldn’t have to opportunity to bother him today.

Maybe today would be the start of some normality: with everyone keeping an eye on the visitors, most people wouldn’t be too keen on messing around. As you made some food and coffee, you updated yourself on the work group chat. There wasn’t much of it that concerned you, but seeing people’s elaborate excuses on why they couldn’t come in was amusing. That is, until you saw a message from that woman.

There was a selfie of her in the conference room, with Hitoya in the back, occupied with some papers, with the caption: ‘About to teach some newbies what’s up! Kya ahahaha!’

It was hard not to throw up your breakfast. Getting dressed was a struggle, since you wanted to punch every surface in the room.

They were alone in a room, without you. She could be saying god knows what to him, well aware that you wouldn’t be in for at least another hour.

Rushing to get ready and go to the office was an option, but what good would it do?

All you could picture was Hitoya staring down at you, as you burst through the door, dishevelled from rushing there, chiding you for imagining what you said this woman was doing.

When you came to your senses, you were in the office, bursting through the door, just as you didn’t want to do.

“Hey, Boss?” The receptionist said, looking concerned.

“…Yeah? Where’s Hitoya? And why’d you call me ‘Boss’?”

“You’re basically also our boss too. And I dunno where Boss Boss is but, are you okay? Are you like, super tired?” The receptionist gestured to his clothes, implying that something was wrong with yours.

And there was. Because you were not in your work clothes at all. You had come to the office in a hoodie and sweatpants. In your rush to get ready, you had forgotten about looking presentable.

“Oh shit.”

“Hey, Boss. I know it was an accident, if you slip out and come back soon, I’ll just tell people there was traffic. I got your back.”

“Thanks.” You sighed, thankful that someone was on your side for once.

Right as you turned to leave, a piercing laugh came from the conference room entrance. One that was all too recognisable.

‘Of course she had to see this. Just my luck,’ you thought.

Her heels click-clacked as she came closer.

“Oh sweetie, this is just too much! You think that just because you’re banging the Boss man you can show up in whatever clothes you want? What a pathetic little weirdo…” She looked at the receptionist for agreement but he had turned around in second-hand embarrassment.

You were too miserable to try and act polite to her. You’d had enough. All of that jealously that had been bubbling inside you for what felt like years had finally spilled over.

“Why don’t you keep your nose out of our business for once!? You know we’re in a relationship, so why don’t you just fuck off and leave him alone!? If you’re gonna try and sleep around at least go for single people, you freak!” As you raised your voice, tears started streaming down your face. You didn’t care that it made you look even more of a mess. “The only reason we keep you around here is because you’re good at your job! You belong in hell, you demon!”

No more words could properly express how fed up you were, how much you wanted this woman out of sight. Your hands were clutched tight to your chest, which hurt more by the second. You kept your eyes focused on the floor in fear of her reaction. It wasn’t likely that she’d do a 180 and take pity on you.

Instead, you did a 180 and ran out of the building. You could barely see where you were going, but you knew where you wanted to go.

One turn left, a few crossings straight ahead, a couple of right turns, and you were where you and Hitoya had your first ‘date’: a bench next to a vending machine.

That day, he had planned to take you to a fancy restaurant, but it started raining so hard that you had to take shelter in a convenience store for a while, and ended up missing your reservation. When the sky cleared, Hitoya gave you his jacket to shield you from future showers, and bought a couple of drinks to share. The indirect kiss you shared on that canned coffee gave you the strongest butterflies you’d ever felt.

You wanted to feel that same sunshine on your face as then, and see the same rainbow as then, but the sky was cloudy today. Sitting on the bench with your cheeks resting on your fists, you tried to force your mind back into that honeymoon phase. It all seemed so much simpler then, like nothing could stand between you two. Now everything was dreary. Now it was just you, the pit in your stomach, this convenience store, and passers-by.

Someone was walking a hyper-active dog that tried to jump at you. A lady with a small child asked if you were alright, which was nice. A few teens were out looking to cause trouble, though you didn’t care. A group of kids were meticulously counting their money out loud, and yes, they did have enough money to get a soda and a steamed bun. All of these people, going about their lives, reminded you that even in these times where your world was turning upside down, the rest of the world would go on. Even the guy going on a run was just doing his thing. You didn’t look up, but you could hear him running, then stopping just outside the store.

“There you are.” A familiar deep voice said in-between pants.

Your head snapped up. “Hitoya!?”

Hitoya was there, his hands on his knees, catching his breath.

“I heard what happened from Yamashita, at the front desk. I knew where you’d be. She’s gone. You don’t need to worry about her anymore.”

“What?”

“That woman. She’s gone. I kicked her out of the firm. I’m sorry for letting it get to this point.” Hitoya flopped beside you on the bench and took your hands in his. He sounded award, like he was having a conversation that was long overdue. “It was messed up on my end to not say anything. I just figured out that that was worse than doing something. I… You know you’re the only one I have eyes for, you know that? I know I don’t say this romantic sappy stuff a lot, but uh, you’re always what I look forward to seeing, like, you’re really cute right now, even in those clothes. I kinda wanna cuddle you. Hey, let’s take the rest of the day off and go home and do that, yeah?”

You were too stunned to reply with words. It was like a dream come true. That toxic bitch was out of your life, and you didn’t have to see her again. Hitoya was yours, and he was ready to confess – in public, no less – that he really did love you.

After a minute of collecting your thoughts, you replied in a croaky voice: “Yeah, let’s go home. To our home.”

Where no-one could come between you.

[avengerscompound]

It’s You and Me - Chapter 10

It’s You and Me: A Hawkeye Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Clint Barton x  F!Reader

Word Count:  1758

Rating:  E

Warnings:  Mentions of past abuse, some kinda sexual stuff (though it’s light and probably pg movie worthy), some of this is canon comic stuff - so you may have already read it.

Synopsis: You and Clint Barton go way back.  Since you joined the circus as a child, he took it upon himself to keep you away from the people who really wanted to hurt you.  For years the two of you danced a line between dark and light.

When he chooses light the two of you go your separate ways.

Fifteen years later he tracks you down.  Those feelings the two of you shared never went away, but now he is not only an Avengers but a single father.  Can the two of you make it work after all this time when your lives have gone in such different directions?

A series told in flashbacks and current day.

Chapter 10: Then

Clint ran through the circus looking for Eden.  He’d been in town getting some things when he’d spotted the paper.  The words ‘Art Dealer Murdered’ were splashed over the front page, with a photograph of the man Clint recognized from when he’d had the meeting with Tiboldt and a picture of some of the missing art.  He knew it had to do with the circus.  That someone from here had killed him when they’d tried to steal the art.  After what you had said about Eden potentially being involved, he was terrified that someone was her.

“Anyone seen Eden?”  He called as he ran through the carnies setting up the tents for the show tonight.

He spotted Bruto the Strong Man hammering in some of the larger poles and rushed over to him.  “Bruto,” he said, slightly breathless.  “You seen Eden around?”

Bruto thrust his thumb over his shoulder.  “Check Tiboldt’s trailer.”

Clint nodded and ran towards the orange trailer that had the large banner advertising the circus on the side.  “Eden,” he called.  “Tiboldt - you guys in there?”

The door opened a crack and the thin weasley face peered around the corner.  “What do you want, Barton?”

“Where’s Eden?”  Clint asked.

Tiboldt narrowed his eyes.  “What… do … you… want?”

Clint thrust the paper forward, right into the Ringmaster’s face so he could see the headline.  “This is the guy you were talking to a few days ago!”

“Really?”  Tiboldt said, playing coy.  “I talk to so many people when we do our shows…”

“He was the museum guy - we were gonna do some children’s charity gig for him?”  Clint questioned.

Tiboldt chuckled drily and handed the paper back to Clint.  “Apparently, we won’t be now.”

Clint scowled, taking it.  “Where’s Eden?”

Tiboldt pushed the door open so that Clint could see inside.  Eden was sitting at the dressing table, naked except for a small towel wrapped around her waist.  She turned, obviously startled that the Ringmaster would give her away.  “Clint!”  She yelped.  “I…”

Clint fumed.  He wanted to yell.  To fight Tiboldt.  To do something to express how angry and hurt he was right now.  Tiboldt was the boss though and he was stuck.  He’d been sleeping with Eden and they’d gone and murdered someone together and Clint was just some dumb sucker.

He spun on his heel and stormed off.

He’d made it halfway down the big top before Eden came chasing after him, the towel only barely wrapped around her.  “Clint!  Wait!” She called.  “It’s not what you think!”

“Yeah?”  He snapped, tossing the paper into the air.  “‘Cause I’m thinkin’ you’re with him when you said you were my girl -” he loosed an arrow at it and shot past Eden’s head, pinning the paper to the wall of the trailer she was standing next to, the arrowhead piercing the picture of the murder victim through the head.  “- and you helped him commit murder!”

“You…” Eden stammered.  “You really think I would murder someone?”

Clint faltered.  He didn’t know what he believed.  He loved Eden and had loved her for a while now.  But seeing her naked in that trailer only days after you had warned him about what was going on, he wasn’t sure if he could trust her.  “I - no… no, I don’t…”

She approached him running her hand up into the back of his head and leaning into him.  “As for Tiboldt and me - please - I was posing for a new trailer poster.”  She looked into his eyes and tilted her head.  “No one touches me - you know that.  No one but you.”

She opened her towel, and wrapped it around him, bringing her naked body to his right out in the open in front of everyone.  Heat flushed Clint’s skin and every coherent thought left his head.  He kissed Eden deeply and hungrily the only thing even remotely resembling a coherent thought was the deep animalistic hunger he felt for her.

That night as you and Clint got ready for the show, he’d all but forgotten the incident from earlier and the murder of the art dealer.  You were fussing with the horses as he checked his equipment.

“Five minutes ‘til showtime!”  Tiboldt called.  Clint flexed his bowstring and the bow snapped.  “Ah, nuts!”  He cursed and looked around, while Tidbolt called out the run list.  “Anyone got a soldering iron?”

You shook your head while the other performers ignored him.  “Hurry, Clint,” you said.  “We’re first.”

“I’ll be quick,” he agreed and ran out the back of the tent.  Eden was coming in from outside.  She was wearing a bikini that would match her flesh if it wasn’t covered from neck to toe in intricate tattoos.  “Eden, baby, I need a soldering iron,” he said.

“Oh, I got one, Clint,” she teased.

“You do?” He said, completely missing the teasing in his desperation to fix the bow before curtains up.

“You wanna know where I’m keeping it?”  She smirked

Realization dawned on him.  Of course, the woman who was basically naked didn’t have a soldering iron on her.  “Oh,” he said.

“Try one of the storage chests, you big dope - the purple one, I think,” she said.

He rushed down to where the storage chests were but instead of one, there were three purple chests, each identical to the other.  “Aw, man…” he whined.  “Eden… three of them are purple!”

“Two minutes!”  Tiboldt called.

“C’mon…” Clint muttered, opening one of the trunks.  Sitting on top of the chest was the painting from the paper.  It had been Tiboldt, just like he’d thought.  Which meant it was probably Eden too.

His heart sunk.  He didn’t know what to do.  It was one thing when it was just stealing - but murder?  How could he stay with the Circus knowing they were doing that?

“Ladies and Gentleman -”  Tiboldt called, his voice amplified over the big top.  Clint cursed again and began digging for the soldering iron in the other trunks.

He’d well and truly missed his queue when he reached you.  Eden was out on the floor working her contortionist routine.  “Where have you been?”  You asked.  “You missed your queue.”

“I’m sorry!”  He said and came over close to you.  “I was fixing my bow and I found a painting… one of the missing ones.  They killed that art guy.”

You frowned.  “Shit.”

“Did you have anything to do with it?”  He asked.

You held up your hands.  “I swear I didn’t, Clint.  I thought about it, but I knew if they had that over me, then they’d have control of me.”

“You think Eden did?”  Clint muttered.

You looked around and pulled Clint behind the horses more.  He tried to see what had got you spooked and noticed Tiboldt watching you both.  “I don’t know.  Maybe,” you whispered.  “You should ask her that.”

Clint’s shoulders sagged.  “I might get us a motel room.  Maybe if she’s away from the circus she’ll tell me.”

You shrugged.  “Maybe.”

“Hawkeye, Sugar.  You already missed on queue, you better get this one,” Tiboldt snapped, appearing around the front of the horses.

“Yes, sir!” You said, getting on your horse.

Clint did the same and waited for his queue.  You leaned over to him.  “Clint, what are you gonna do if she did do it?”

Clint shrugged.  “I dunno.  I dunno if I can stay here.  Would you come with me?”

“Where would we go?”  You asked.   “We ran away to the circus, what’s after that?”

“Welcome to the ring, the man who can’t miss, Hawkeye!”  Tiboldt announced, interrupting Clint’s train of thought.  He spurred his horse on through the curtains.  Not that he was sure what he was going to do, but if he turned everyone in, there was no way that the answer could be this anymore.

You sat next to Clint by the payphone in the street.  He’d done what he’d said.  He’d taken Eden to a motel.  They’d gotten dirty and then clean again, and while they showered he’d asked her about the murder.  She denied the murder but not the theft and then got mad at him for not trusting her.  Clint had gone to bed feeling sick to his stomach and the next morning he woke well before Eden, come back to the circus, and got you.

“You really gonna do this, Clint?”  You asked.

He shrugged.  “I dunno.  They killed someone.  That guy has a family.  Friends.  They deserve some kind of closure.”

You nodded.  “The circus will be done.  What will we do?”

“Go on the road together,” Clint suggested.  “The act won’t be quite as good without the horses and the clowns, but we could do a pretty good routine.  Maybe some solo work too.”

“Maybe if you do it anonymously they won’t know it was you,” you suggested.

“Eden will know,” he said.  “So will Tiboldt. This is gonna burn us.  I already got my leg busted because I threatened to turn them in once.”

“I guess… make the call, and we go back and … pack our things?”  You said.  “If we can get as much of our stuff as we can, we won’t need to start from scratch.”

“You’re really going to come with me?”  Clint asked.

“Clint,” you said softly, lowering your eyes.  “I know you don’t know exactly what happened to me before I joined the circus, but when I joined, and Jacques said I needed to take those pictures - he said that he wouldn’t touch me.  That it’d just be some naked pictures and that’d pay for my upkeep.  I didn’t like it, but … it was like levels, you know?  When someone keeps breaking your bones, and then a different person says, come here I’ll bruise you, but I won’t break your bones, you go because compared to the broken bones, the bruising feels like heaven.  And you… you said you’d protect me from anyone hurting me at all.  And you did.  You kept Jacques away from me and you gave me a way to protect myself.  And you’ve never expected anything from me.  I kept expecting that one day you’d be like ‘well look what I did, now you owe me so open up those pretty legs of yours’ but you didn’t.  So yeah, Clint.  I’ll go with you because it’s you and me.  You’ve always got my back, it’s only fair I have yours too.”

Clint looked at you and smiled sadly.  “You and me,” he said and patted your thigh.  “Okay.  I’m gonna do this.”

// NEXT

[passivenovember]

Reptile Boy.

Harringrove April, Day Twenty-Five : Lake.

--

“It feels like it should be bigger.”

“It’s already big.”

“Yeah, but. Should we be able to see the tree line like that?” Billy unfolded his arms, pointing cautiously at the other side of the shiny black mirror lapping gently at his toes. 

“I know water, Harrington. We should be able to swim out and get lost.”

“Huh?”

“Water is supposed to be peaceful.” Billy said. “Isolated, you could never find any peace out here.”

He could feel Steve’s eyes on him. Wide, comical. “You want to get lost in Lake Hawkins?”

“No.” Billy said stiffly. “No, I just. Don’t like how small it is.” He rubbed the back of his neck, trying and failing to hide the subtle vibration in his fingers. When he looked to the left Steve was watching him with his eyebrows pulled together. 

Tufts of brown docked on the delicate shore of Steve’s face.

“What?” Billy scowled. 

“Nothing.”

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Dunno.” Steve looked away. Out over the water. “There are frogs.” He said brightly, “We could catch one. Keep it.”

“What are you, five?”

“No, I just--”

“You really thought we’d come all the way out here and you’d lure me into a deep, dark, swampy abyss with the promise of frogs?” 

“What about lizards? High risk, high reward.” 

“Lizards?” 

“Sure.” Steve said happily, soft brown locks drifting across his forehead. “There are tons of lizards out here.”

Billy crossed his arms once more, smirking. “And how would you know that? Got a thing for lizards?”

“Call it a side effect of carting around half of Hawkins Middle’s science club.” Steve watched him for a moment, studying the curves of Billy’s face. “We don’t have to get in.”

Billy looked away, not. 

Crazy about the intensity of the moment. 

“I’m not a chicken, alright?.”

“I know.” Steve said. “You’re not a chicken, I know that, but if it’s too soon. Or if you’re wary, after everything that happened, I get it. We can go home.”

Home. 

Billy puffed out his chest. “I’m not afraid of a little swamp water, got it?”

“That’s a completely different ecosystem.” 

“What?”

“Different locations equal varying climate regions.” Steve pointed at the edge of the water. “There aren’t many roots or thick sprouts of vegetation for there to much of a hierarchy when it comes to the food chain in lakes around here.”

Billy felt like he was suddenly transported to fifth period biology. Earth Science, maybe, with Mr. Brown. 

“What the fuck are you talking about, Harrington?”

Slim, artistic fingers tucked brown locks behind Steve’s ears, exposing the bright pink flush on his neck. “It’s just. Without the proper foliage there couldn’t be large predators in the water. It just wouldn’t work.”

Billy stared at him. “This is Hawkins.”

“Indiana.” Steve teased. “I’m familiar.”

And  maybe he was playing dumb. Maybe, despite the community college level education Steve was working toward, and his ability to look at a puddle of water a determine its ecosystem as easily as he could look at Billy and predict his mood, maybe Steve had somehow forgotten the last few years.

The last year. 

Of their life. The one they shared together.

Billy jabbed a tense, furious thumb at the lake before them. “This is Hawkins.” He said again, grinding the words between his teeth. Pestle and Mortar. 

Steve nodded. “Yeah, so?”

“So stranger things have happened.” Billy snarled, making his way toward the Beemer with a huff.

“Billy--”

“How do we know it’s even warm enough to swim yet?” He demanded, turning on Steve and almost running into him. “How do we know there isn’t a fleet of freshwater puranas in there, or some kind of salt-less octopus, or a giant squid just waiting for--”

“It’s a lake.”

“And this is Hawkins.” Billy felt like a broken record. Scuffs turning into long, hairline fractures. “At least with the ocean you know what you’re getting the farther you are from the shore. You know that once you get fifty yards out you can’t feel the bottom. You know what’s waiting for you with each new wave, This--”

Billy gestured behind Steve, voice cresting new heights of steely panic.

“This is something else. The shores meet like nothing. Two seconds and your on the other side.”

“Bills, It’s alright--”

“It’s so small. Too small. You look at it and you think it’s not so bad. It’s new, and you’re a long way from home, but you can handle it. Take it on the jaw.” Billy backs away, vision blurred. “But then things start happening. To you. And suddenly you’re looking up from the bottom of a lake thinking how the fuck did I get here. Something so small shouldn’t be so scary but it’s deep. Dark.” Billy shook his head, swallowing tears. “How am I supposed to find my way out again.”

Steve didn’t say anything for a long time, just. 

Listened

Watched Billy swim into the storm that was brewing in his chest and pull himself out, tooth and nail, on the other side. 

He tugged Billy against him, guiding him to dune under their feet. 

“Deep breaths.” Steve held up his fingers and asked Billy to count the freckles. The lines and curves of his palm, until it wasn’t so much trouble to get his lungs moving against the stiff summer air. 

“We don’t have to swim.” Steve said after a while, fingers carding through windswept blonde curls.

“I know.” Billy mumbled. “Thank you.”

“I won’t let you sink. I’ll protect you, okay?” Steve grabbed his chin, bringing their eyes together in one gentle, soft arch. “I won’t let you drown.”

[firstfrostfall]

A Cold Lament - Chapter Three

a tommy shelby fanfiction

In the winter of 1918, the Shelby brothers returned home from a war-torn France. In the winter of the following year, the middle brother, Tommy, recognizes an opportunity for his family to move up in the world, and it came in the shape of a misplaced crate of weapons.

In the meantime, per the request of his aunt, he gives a struggling young woman a job.

Little did he know, that like the smell of snow on the wind in late autumn, everything was going to change, and it wasn’t just because of some stolen guns.

Takes place during Season One.

It was cold and dark by the time he reached The Garrison. The air was painfully frigid, so much so, that each inhale he took felt like a whip cracking to his chest. The year would soon be coming to a close, and winter was just beginning.

He needed a drink, and someplace to drown out the quiet before settling in for the night with his pipe. It was almost midnight, and Harry would be closing down the pub soon.

Tommy spent the better part of his day at Charlie Strong’s Yard, doing yet another once over of the stock inside of the crate that they found. They counted each item once, twice, three times- just to make sure it was real after all, and not some sort of fever dream.

Oh, and it was fucking real all right. 25 automatic machine guns, 10,000 rounds of ammo, and a plethora of pistols.

The next order of business was figuring out what they were going to do with them, or rather, where they were going to put them. What a headache. One thing he knew for certain was that someone was going to realize this cargo had gone missing soon enough, and when that happened, he needed a plan.

Stolen guns aside, he had also spent a great deal of time trying to track down his brothers so they could purchase another horse for the upcoming races. Normally, he could do this on his own, but he had bigger ideas in mind. Bigger ideas that he needed his brothers for.

Now, getting the two of them in the same place at the same time was another hassle within itself, not to mention an additional headache.

Harry was behind the bar, humming to himself and organizing the racks of booze against the back wall, label facing front. At the sound of the door jingling, the barkeep lazily glanced over his shoulder with a yawn. Upon realizing who walked through the doors, he cleared his throat and sheepishly wiped his hands on his apron.

“Ah, Mr. Shelby, good evening,” His voice wavered. “How can I help you?”

Tommy nodded his head toward a particular bottle while shrugging off his coat.

He leaned against the bar then, waiting for his hands to warm up while Harry prepared his drink. He listened to the sounds of glasses clattering together, a bottle being uncorked, Harry’s hurried footsteps on the floor, the buzzing of the lights above. No factory machinery whirring in the background, no, it was far too late for that.

“Today was her first day, you know.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow, unsure of who Harry was speaking about until it clicked. The favor for his aunt, that’s whose first day it was.

Truthfully, he hadn’t given the girl a second thought since he last spoke to her, and that was a few days ago now. Codwell? Coldwell? He couldn’t remember her surname. Her first name, on the other hand, was simple enough to recall. Anna. It was Anna.

“Miss Caldwell, that is.” Harry continued, clearly recognizing the confusion on his face.

Caldwell. Well, he was close.

“Is she still here?”

“Yes,” The barkeep jerked his chin toward the back room. “In the back.”

Tommy retrieved his cigarette case from his coat and placed it on the bartop, perching an unlit stick between his lips. “How’d she do?”

“She did fine,” Harry shrugged mid-pour, with a small smile growing on his face. It made the corners of his eyes crinkle. “It’ll take some getting used to, I’d reckon. I’m not sure if she’s ever handled liquor in her life, but she’s a hard worker.” His tone was light, jovial almost.

Tommy sighed heavily through his nostrils while lighting the cigarette. A hard worker. Polly said the same damn thing.

Harry left him alone then and went about tidying up the bar. Sweeping the floor, cleaning soap scum from glasses. Meanwhile, Tommy switched between smoking and drinking, each vice warming his chest. He listened to all of the sounds, broom bristles against the floor, Harry humming, glass colliding with the bartop.

Amidst this, he saw a figure step into the room from the corner of his eye. He didn’t bother to look over, because it could have only been her, Anna. It wasn’t until Harry cleared his throat that he finally turned his head toward her.

She stood there, looking more diminutive than he initially realized. And tired. Her hair fell in loose waves around her, certainly not as neat as it had been before. No lipstick, either. Her blouse stuck out the most to him- it was covered in stains, each splotch in varying sizes and colors. A stark contrast to how buttoned up and proper she looked the other day. A rough first day, he imagined. It was almost comical.

He turned away to hide the smirk that grew on his lips while taking a slow sip from his drink. He hoped Polly was happy, he got the girl a job.

After a bit of small talk (he fucking hated small talk), it was time for him to take his leave. He got what he came for, a drink and some time to think.

He stubbed out the remnants of his dwindling cigarette on the cobblestone ground when he walked outside, deciding that he would light a fresh one almost immediately. Something to keep his mind busy while he walked home. It was far too cold for anything else.

He reached a hand into his jacket, fumbling for the cigarette case when his fingers brushed against something unfamiliar, a piece of cardstock. Confused, he pulled it out, and upon a further glance, it was her crumpled-up resume.

That was when the snow started falling. He stopped walking, barely flinching when the first few snowflakes hit the exposed part of his neck.

Her hands. He thought of her hands. He didn’t look at her hands this time.

He tucked the paper back into his coat and sighed, his breath fogging the air in front of him. He turned over his shoulder, and he saw her. The flickering street lights cast a warm glow over her as she stood there, bundled up in a coat far too big for her frame, staring right back at him.

They both looked at each other for a moment, possibly minutes, before he turned away and kept walking.

She was just another investment for the business and based on her appearance tonight, she’d be a poor one at that.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The snow from a few nights ago melted just as quickly as it came, leaving nothing but muddy puddles in its wake. Earlier in the day, Tommy had managed to track his brothers down, which was no simple task.

The three of them were on their way to The Garrison to drink, no surprise there, and to discuss plans for acquiring a new racehorse. An Appaloosa, to be exact. A young, flighty, and fast mare. With enough training, it would be perfect for the tracks. Tommy was almost certain of that.

The seller was from one of the riverside camps outside of the city, someone Polly had known from a long time back. This led Tommy to believe that the horse was no doubt stolen, especially since there weren’t many Appaloosas around these parts, which made it all the better deal. He’d probably be able to buy the damned thing at a discount.

“You hear? There’s a new girl working at The Garrison.” Arthur’s voice, loud and gruff, interrupted his thoughts. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Some posh bitch, yeah?” John asked.

“She’s posh?” Arthur raised his eyebrows. “What’s she doing here?”

“Dunno,” John shrugged. “Heard some people say she sounds posh. Haven’t seen her yet myself.”

Tommy was walking a few steps ahead of them, rolling his eyes. They were fucking stupid.

“You think she’s pretty?” John quipped with a grin.

“I’d bet she is,” Arthur replied.

“You wanna put a wager on it?”

“Oh, I’ll put a fuckin’ wager on it.”

He glanced over his shoulder at his brothers, watching as they spit and shook hands on it. Stupid.

It appeared to be a slow afternoon at the pub, with only a few men at the bar and a tiny handful of people scattered around various tables. Harry stood behind the bar, raising a hand to him in greeting while he spoke to other patrons. His brothers all but stumbled into the snug, laughing about who would win the wager. Tommy shook his head.

Anna, however, was nowhere in sight. He thought she’d be attached to the hip with Harry, like a dutiful trainee. It had been a few days since he was last at The Garrison, since the last time he saw her with the stained blouse, and almost a little over a week since he first met her. Maybe she quit. A pity, he supposed, Polly said she was struggling. But it was no skin off his nose. If she couldn’t handle the work, then maybe it was for the best.

He caught Harry’s attention and motioned with his head toward the private room. “We’ll be in the snug.”

His brothers were already lounging in the booth. John chewing on a toothpick and Arthur slinging his arms over the back of the seat.

“I’d bet- not pretty. I heard she sounds like one of those London girls who get too drunk at the clubs and take a cab here by accident.” John grinned, emphasizing each word with a point of his finger.

“No, no,” Arthur shook his head. “If people are talking, she has to be pretty.”

“You wanna place a bet, Tommy?” John turned toward him, still grinning with the pick between his teeth.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” His younger brother huffed.

“Already seen her,” Tommy answered from over his shoulder as he hung his winter coat on the rack.

“And?” They asked in unison. “Is she pretty or not?”

“Doesn’t matter what I think,” Tommy shook his head. “It would ruin the bet.”

“When did you see her?”

“Who do you think hired her?” Tommy deadpanned.

“When were you going to tell us?” John retorted.

“She’s a fucking barmaid. They’re two a penny around here,” Tommy rolled his eyes, taking his cap off and shoving it into the pocket of his tweed jacket. He finally slid into the booth beside Arthur with a sigh. “It’s not important.”

The shutters to the bar above flew open, and Harry’s head popped through.

“A round of beers for us,” Tommy waved a hand at the barkeep. “Is she here?”

“Miss Caldwell?” Harry blinked. “Uh, yes, she’s in the back.”

Didn’t quit, then.

“ Miss,” John scoffed under his breath, elbowing Arthur in the side. “She’s a Miss .” Arthur started laughing too.

“Have her serve us. Consider it part of her training.”

John particularly seemed to get a kick out of that line.

Harry slowly nodded and closed the shutters.

Soon enough, there was a brisk knock at the main door to their private room. Tommy sat closest to the door and reached for the knob to open it.

Anna stood there, gripping a steel pail filled with beer. She looked at him first, a small smile on her lips. Still no lipstick. Her hair was neatly arranged with curls to her collarbone, just as it was when he first saw her. She was dressed head to toe in dark green, save for the worn cotton apron tied around her waist. No stains on her blouse this time, either.

“ Miss,” John tipped the brim of his cap to her. Arthur chuckled beside him.

“Good afternoon,” She gently placed the pail on the table, smoothing her hands over her apron after doing so. “I’ll be right back with your glasses.”

The way she spoke, crisp and clean, each word clipped and flowing. Something wasn’t right.

When she returned, she dunked each glass into the pail and wiped the remaining droplets from the sides with a fresh cloth before serving each of them. Tommy had to stifle a laugh. What a neat and careful touch.

“Can I get you anything else?”

Tommy shook his head, still smirking, and waved a hand at her. “That will be all.”

She gave them a curt nod and stepped out of the room.

As soon as the door closed, Tommy tilted his head toward his brothers. “Who won?”

John shook his head and let out an exasperated sigh, sliding a few bills across the table toward Arthur.

“I bloody knew it,” Arthur grinned, tucking his winnings into his jacket. He clicked his tongue against his teeth and pointed a finger at his brother. “ This is your comeuppance for cheating at cards the other day.”

“Oh, shut up,” John rolled his eyes and flicked the toothpick to the floor. “I’m paying you your dues. She’s pretty enough.”

“How’d you find her anyway, Tom?” Arthur turned his attention to him, beer in hand.

“I didn’t find her,” Tommy brought his own glass to his lips and shrugged. “Polly did. She asked me to give her a job.”

“How the hell did she find her?” John’s eyes darted between the two of them. “She must be from London or something.”

“Something about a woman from church, I’m not a fucking psychic.” Tommy rolled his eyes. He could feel another headache coming on. “Ask her yourself.”

“You think she’s a whore?” John asked, earning a clap on the shoulder from Arthur. “How much, do you think?”

Another headache was definitely coming on now.

“Let’s talk about the fucking horse, and then we can speculate if she’s a whore or not, yeah?”

His brothers were fucking stupid, gawking over something new and shiny.

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Tommy was the last to leave the snug, insisting that he wanted to finish another cigarette. When he was finally alone, he stepped out into the pub. The afternoon was rolling into the evening, and the sinking sun cast a gilded orange glow over the room. Upon his first glance, it looked like he was the last person left in the pub. The last person except for her.

Anna was behind the bar, her face still and serious while she wiped down a glass. It wasn’t until he cleared his throat that she looked up.

“Mr. Shelby,” She set down the glass on the bartop. “Can I get you anything?”

He shook his head. “I was looking for Harry.”

“He had to step out for a moment, there’s no more ice.”

“Ah,” He placed his cap on his head. “I’ll come back another time then. Good day.”

Tommy turned on his heel toward the door but stopped short when he heard her speak again. He glanced at her from over his shoulder.

“You can call me Anna, by the way.” She was smiling. “It’s been hard enough trying to get Harry to use my name. Always ‘ miss’ around here.”

“Noted.”

He noticed her face drop at his response, or lack thereof, rather. But just as quickly, she started smiling again. She looked away from him and smoothed all of her hair over one shoulder, not a single red ringlet out of place. She reached for the rag she was cleaning with before and went back to work.

He wasn’t sure what came over him, a sudden sense of good nature perhaps, but he decided he’d throw her a bone. He adjusted his cap on his head and turned to fully face her now.

“Harry says you’re a hard worker.”

She laughed at that. Honestly laughed. He knew it was real because it was soft at first, the sound rich and gentle until it ended with a snort. Her cheeks started to tinge pink, at the snort, he guessed. She ran a hand through her hair and shook her head.

“Excuse me for laughing. He’s too kind, really.” Her eyes darted from him to the rag in her hands, and then back to him. “I’ve been trying my best, but I think I’m making a mess of things. I’m sure the sorry state of my apron can attest to that.” She took a step back and tugged on the hem of the apron.

“Nothing on the blouse this time.”

Her lips parted slightly, no doubt surprised. And then she started laughing again. “You noticed that from the other day?”

He shrugged, the ghost of a smirk quirking at the corner of his mouth. “Hard not to.”

“I hope you’ll never have to see me in such a mess again. For both of our sakes.”

Tommy glanced at her hands. Still smooth.

Clearing his throat, he tipped the brim of his cap to her. “Anna.”

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That night, while he sat awake in bed, staring at the wall, he thought of her laugh. It was unbecoming for her, he thought.

John was right, she did seem like one of those London girls who got too drunk and mosied on up here by accident. She certainly spoke like one and carried herself like one, too.

The whole thing was unbecoming.

He did think she was pretty, though. He wouldn’t tell his brothers that.

[hankwritten]

Keep in a Cool Dry Place

Demoman/Soldier, 3k

A couple of old, past their prime mercs live out their days, but at least they’re slowly breaking down together.

Oftentimes, Jane would go out onto the deck to find Tavish fixed in place, chin tilted skywards, soaking up the stars for all they were worth. He could be like that, sometimes for hours, eye glossy against the Milky Way as he stood so still he could make a statue proud.

“You’re up awful late,” he said to Jane, unmoving. Probably had realized Jane had been watching for a while now.

“Could say the same to you,” Jane said, pulling himself into a deck chair with a great cascade of air from his smoker’s lungs, the grunt of an old man he always thought was an exaggerated affectation until it started happening to him.

“I don’t get up at five in the morning,” Tavish reminded him.

“You could. Good for the health, Tavish.”

“I don’t think anything’s good for the health these days. Just bad, and slightly worse.” He drummed his fingers on the deck’s railing. “C’mere, look at this.”

“I can see the damn stars just fine from here,” Jane sniffed.

Tavish broke from his surveying to shoot a grin Jane’s way, features cut sharp in the porch light. “Come on you old fart, get over here.”

Jane grumbled, pushing out of the chair with more effort than he would have liked to admit. He made his way to Tavish, joining him at the railing, their shoulders brushing just briefly until Tavish swung an arm around Jane’s waist.

His voice took on a fading quality all of the sudden, as though far away winds were dragging him skyward. “Nice night, isn’t it?”

Jane watched him. In the past few years his good eye had grown white in the center, a fuzzy film growing out from the pupil that would one day take the whole cornea. It was irreversible, Tavish had explained, years of buildup from stromnium or strotenium or something like that, Jane could never remember. Tavish wasn’t surprised, had told Jane that he was shocked he’d still had the thing this long, but that didn’t mean there was no mourning within the man. It was just different than how most people would have gone about it.

“Sure is,” Jane said. “Real beautiful.”

“Aye. And you ‘n me, we’re not seeing the half of it. Those telescopes, the ones the size of whole buildings, all they have is a bunch of different magnifying glasses and yet when they put ‘em all together you can see whole galaxies that weren’t there before. Same sky, just some folks can see it, some folks can’t.”

“You can still see it,” Jane reminded him, a gentle bump to the shoulder.

“For now,” Tavish agreed. He turned, smiling with just the corner of his mouth, a testament that was gone before Jane could fully appreciate how much he loved the small, sad ways he chose to be happy. A hand came up to brush the side of Jane’s cheek. “I just keep thinking about how one of these days will be the last day I see you.”

Their foreheads came together. Jane’s hand rose to cover the one across his cheek, thumb rubbing the small band of gold on Tavish’s finger. Sometimes he still couldn’t believe this; despite the decades, despite the promises made on cold desert nights, despite watching the grey hairs spring in Tavish’s beard and knowing the same was happening to him, it was still hard to fathom that someone had chosen to spend the rest of their life with him. Even though the years with Tavish came close to outnumbering the years without, that time in Jane’s life of infinite loneliness, of stubborn self sufficiency, made him question how he was ever lucky enough that someone had hung on their sense and decided he was worth it.

Jane pulled Tavish closer. “Yeah. Well. If you’re going to keep a last image of me in your head, I really wish it was back when I was still handsome.”

Tavish laughed, swaying them both slightly in the unusually still air. Normally winds rattled the badlands, stirring up loose sand and seething through plants too hardy to notice. It felt like, for once, the world had chosen to be kind this night, just for them.

“You get handsomer every day Jane,” Tavish said, and hidden behind the words were each day I love you more. “I just…miss.”

“Miss how things used to be?”

“More than that. I’ve got the ‘ole yearning, I suppose, the eater of men.” Tavish chewed his words, looking up at the sky again. “I miss places. I miss how everything used to feel, even if it wasn’t terribly good.”

“Not talking about going back to your home planet, are you?” Jane joked, jerking his thumb at the now witnessed stars.

“No,” Tavish snorted. “Not exactly. But I…” He trailed off.

Now it was Jane’s turn to bring his hands to the sides of Tavish’s face, his own ring warm from where he’d been cradling it inside his fist. “What is it, Tav? You can tell me.”

Tavish looked not at the stars nor the horizon, but the ground, kicking the wooden deck neither of them had ever gotten around to re-staining. “I feel…I feel the hills always calling out to me. Like there’s something in my bones that just wants to rest, to go back where it’s green, to where it isn’t so bloody dry. Every time we visit I think ‘is this the last time I’ll ever see it? The very last time? Am I going to be too old or too tired the next time around, and never feel like I’m home again?’”

Jane watched the worry lines in Tavish’s forehead. “You want to go back to Scotland.”

“I dunno. Just the more my eye goes the more I…I dunno.”

They hung in silence for a while longer, just breathing. Jane hadn’t felt the need to wear his helmet for a long time, not at home, not at this mansion that was their private oasis from the rest of the world. Were money made their problems—if not vanish—then kept far back beyond the fence where they never had to think about them unless they ventured beyond. Where, even with BLU’s protection no longer keeping the various chapters of local and federal law enforcement trying to wrangle some comeuppance out of the soldier for sins past, he still had a place of refuge.

“Let’s go,” Jane said.

Tavish looked away. “I don’t mean for a visit Jane, I mean…”

“I know,” Jane insisted. Tavish’s milky eye fixed him with disbelief. “You want to go home. I get it. We should go.”

Tavish stared at him, still uncomprehending. “Jane you know that would mean…”

“I know,” Jane repeated.

A warm, subtle smile filled Tavish’s face, and neither of them had to say any more. Tavish drew Jane in closer, and the two of them rocked in the wind that had just picked up again.

***

“Jane,” Tavish frowned as he examined the box Jane had dropped thunderously at the bottom of the stairs, “do you really need to bring all of these?”

“Hey, I’m not trying to make you get rid of your treasured possessions,” Jane pointed out, depositing a second box filled entirely with Guns & Haircuts net to the first.

“We’re not going to have space for these,” Tavish retorted. “It’s going to be a tiny little thing, remember? They don’t build mansions in Ullapool.”

Moving had left the New Mexico mansion barren and faded where pictures had hung on the wall since Tavish had first moved in. Now they were all gone, sold off as their attempts to downsize left only what was necessary and a few DeGroot family heirlooms.

It twisted something in Jane to see their home of three decades slowly dismantled into carpet scuffs and cardboard boxes. This had been his dwelling longer than any other, a turning point from when the Gravel Wars had folded in on themselves and left Jane with an odd freedom he had no idea if he was allowed to act on. Even before that, when Tavish’s mother had still been alive and the halls were filled with her vigor, this place was safe haven for Jane, where he’d come to meet with his forbidden friend and get wasted in his living room.

Now it was mostly empty. Ready for the last goodbyes.

“These are important,” Jane declared of the boxes.

“You haven’t read them in ages,” Tavish pointed out.

“So? They are valuable. Scout sold his whole Bonk! Boy collection for a fortune, and I’ve got twice as many as that little squirt does!” Jane cleared his throat suddenly. “Did.”

It was hard to remember sometimes. He thought his old teammates would want nothing to do with him after the end, but to his surprise they actually kept in contact better than when they’d actually worked together. Maybe owing to the fact he now had an actual address they could send letters to.

Neither Spy nor Sniper had ever actually retired, and over time the tepid, passably courteous correspondences with Sniper had stopped a few years after Spy disappeared entirely. Jane assumed something similar had happened to them both. Occupational hazard.

Engie had complications with his diabetes. The remaining team had shown up for the funeral, except for Pyro, who everyone politely wouldn’t mention, even when Jane asked.

The one person Jane hadn’t expected to outlive was Scout. Scout didn’t write, but he could talk anyone’s ear off, and when coming home from the second funeral in as many years it hit Jane hard that he’d never hear the kitchen phone ringing off its holder again, practically trembling as the other line was just dying to tell him about whatever exactly Scout was so wound up about today.

Tavish noticed Jane’s slipup, and kindly ignored it. Nearly ten years, and Jane still found himself forgetting. “That’s because they were comics,” Tavish explained. “They were collectors items. The only person collecting Guns & Haircuts is you.”

“And don’t I know it!”

Tavish sighed. “Are you even planning on selling them, or are you just going to do the same thing you’ve done with them here and leave them in a big box to gather dust?”

“Of course I’m going to leave them in a big box!” Jane huffed proudly. “What other purpose is there in life other than to gather material objects and then have them accumulate in piles in your living room? You do not see me complaining about the giant, wall mounted family crest, do you?”

Tavish rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighed as an old argument became even older. “Ach, fine. I suppose we’ll fine the space.” When he opened his eye, he saw the third giant box Jane was hauling out for the movers. “Jane! We don’t need to be taking that.”

“Yes we do, sonny!” Jane said, slapping a hand on the trumpet of the old record player he hadn’t been able to properly fit in the box. “I do not trust those cassette tapes! The snakes that live in them always try to come out and strangle me!”

“We’ve got some CDs now-” Tavish tried.

“Even worse!” Jane declared. “Australian mind control devices!”

Tavish could see he wasn’t winning, which was just fine by Jane. The magazines were one thing, but the record player he wasn’t leaving without.

“Well,” Tavish said, looking around their house, stripped bare. “I suppose that’s everything.”

Jane couldn’t find a reason to object. He glanced around, looking for one last missing detail, one more reason to stall, but found none. Gently, he took Tavish’s hand and squeezed. “Everything we need.”

***

Scotland was even wetter than the last time they’d visited.

Mud, the most distantly remembered and ancient of substances, clung to Jane’s pant leg all the way up to the knee as they made their way down hundred-year old paths someone really should’ve figured out how to weather-proof by now. But, where Jane was grumbling, Tavish looked about as happy as a clam in water. (Or, Jane supposed was more fitting, a pig in mud.)

“Aha! Look, there it is,” Tavish said, tugging on Jane’s arm and pointing at the glimpse of water creeping around the bend. “Still there.”

“I don’t think they would have up and moved a whole lake while you were gone,” Jane mumbled, but Tavish didn’t seem to hear as he moved with surprising speed down the hill. It was times like this Jane actually envied the cane.

When he finally caught up, Tavish was breathing in the thick air, his chest rising and then collapsing with a satisfied sigh. “Used to play down here as lad. Sometimes there’s a beach, far as the eye can see.”

“Thought you were done with sand,” Jane said, stomping up next to him on damp boots.

Tavish just breamed broadly at him, drinking in the sweep of the land and the crash of the lake. Jane could remember the stories, ones from Tavish’s childhood much better than his own, told and retold so many times that he could flip open the memories like a scrapbook and find exactly where every place in Ullapool fit. An old pub, a crumbling church. The house where the DeGroots used to live, the field where Merasmus’s castle had once briefly towered. So vivid were they, they superimposed themselves over Jane’s (admittedly more insubstantial) memories until he felt he had lived here himself.

“…Gettin’ dark, Tav,” Jane pointed out.

Tavish frowned, and squinted at the horizon. “Aye, I suppose it is.”

“Think the movers are done?” Jane didn’t approve of hiring other people to life heavy things when lifting heavy things had once been one of Jane’s favorite pastimes, but Tavish convinced him that if he threw out his back again, it’d be a lot harder to get him to a doctor.

“Probably,” Tavish nodded. “Let’s go see.”

“Do you think they dropped my magazines?”

“I’m sure they’re fine, love.”

They made the long, much more slippery journey back to their new home. It overlooked Ullapool and the coast, but was nevertheless removed enough that Jane could revel in the privacy he had grown used to. Privacy was not on Tavish’s mind when they’d walked through town that first time, however, as he’d greeted nearly everyone who came their way. It had shocked Jane how many people knew him, or at least recognized the DeGroot name, and greeted Tavish as familiarly as they would have had he been gone for only a few weeks rather than years.

It was good, to see Tavish like this. Even now, as they climbed slowly back up the hill, Jane watched him out the corner of his eye, smiling at the look of serenity that hadn’t been on his husband’s face so naturally in years.

“Isn’t this cozy,” Tavish said lovingly as they crossed the threshold of their new home.

That it was. Jane had worried he had grown soft living in luxury, that his years of being rich and retied would make him forgot that he’d once loved his little apartment, had cherished the security its simplicity had given him. But now that he was back inside four walls, surrounded by the items that had come to mean things beyond their purpose, a swell of pleasant familiarity welled up in him. The curtains blocked out the last of the fading light through soft yellow. There was a fireplace (modern and gas powered) but one ready to fill the house with a warm glow.

Tavish made the motions to begin unpacking, but Jane’s pretense of rooting though the boxes had a different goal in mind. Preoccupied, Tavish didn’t turn around until Jane finally slipped the record into place.

Perking, Tavish looked over his shoulder to see Jane offering his hand as the music bubbled slowly to life. “Been a long time since we danced,” Jane said.

Tavish’s smile fit well in this homey, quiet room. He took Jane’s hand, and let Jane pull him up off his knees until they were chest to chest, resting his chin on Jane’s shoulder.

“Too long,” he agreed.

They began sway rhythmlessly to music in the middle of the tiny living room, caring little where they put their feet as long as it wasn’t one top of one another. Jane loved the record player, needed it more these days, as it was one of the only things that made the horrid, incessant ringing in his ears quiet for just a short while. Leaving the fan on at night might help him get to sleep, but the was no denying the scratching notes out of the player were a world more enjoyable.

It was piano piece, one he’d heard Tavish play now and again. There was no space for a grand piano here in this little cottage on the hill, but maybe they could get a smaller one, and Tavish could try teaching him again. Like he’d promised so long ago.

So many promises that’d slipped through the cracks, both to each other and themselves. Things they simply couldn’t do anymore. Ever since the scare with Jane’s lung cancer, they had tried to do better, had realized what they had built meant something and they couldn’t go piddling away with their complacent recklessness. Jane had quit smoking, Tavish had quit drinking as part of the deal.

But still, there were other things, other mistakes that had compounded over the years. Jane always kept thinking he should have been over it by now, that for how many gentle touches Tavish had placed against him, he should forget the violence those same hands had once brought him. The times they’d shoved a sword into Jane’s gut. The bombs from nowhere. The individual atrocities. It was duller now, the years had been good enough to do that, but if Tavish’s memories were anything like Jane’s, he understood why the ex-demoman sometimes woke screaming in the middle of the night, needing to be reminded—soothed, assured, sometimes begged—that the Jane beside him wasn’t the monster from his dreams.

That was the real tragedy of the War. Officially, all they had been paid to do was kill each other—the horrors they chose to inflict on one another had been their own doing, their own wills brought to fruition. RED had never asked Tavish to shove Jane’s shovel down its owner's throat, laughing vengefully all the while. Jane was sure he’d done equally as cruel things to Tavish during those hell times, but had trouble recalling exactly what. It’s much easier to remember the sins committed against you, than those you have unleashed yourself.

Those hands, those bloodstained, gentle, perfect hands, rubbed circles and Jane’s back, and he sighed. He’d listened to this record enough to know it was getting to the end of this side, but he found he didn’t want to move. He wanted to keep standing here, swaying with the man he loved in their home in the mountains, remembering that they had earned this.

“I cherish these moments we spend together,” he said resolutely into Tavish’s chest.

“Every one of them,” Tavish agreed.

Eventually they would lay down, rest their old bones in their new bed, but for now they held each other in the slowly encroaching night, the sound of rain playing its first patter on the roof.

[thetriggeredhappy]

Excuse me, but may I please request a fic about that time you mentioned in your dad spy au that Scout was poisoned? It’s fine if you don’t want to I just really like forcing family bonding though comically tragic circumstances. Thanks.

tag yourself i’m forcing family bonding through comically tragic circumstances

(warnings for poison and mention of etc dangerous circumstances)

-

Across the table from him, Jeremy started frowning and stopped fidgeting with his straw, which was his first clue that something was wrong. The second was when he took a moment to lie his head down on the surface of the diner’s table, and the third was when he quietly told Spy that he didn’t really like this place’s hot chocolate very much. He thought it said it had some kind of peppermint in it, but mostly it just tasted a whole lot like almonds.

Almonds, Jacques thought, and saw the peculiar way Jeremy took a deep breath, and he felt his heart nearly stop.

A mad rush to the motel where he first urged Jeremy to throw up as much as he could manage, followed by giving him a hearty dose of charcoal to try and flush whatever he could out of Jeremy’s system as quickly as possible, followed then by hearty amounts of water and a bolt for the car, because anyone who would try to administer cyanide to his son was probably smart enough to send someone to tail them as far as the motel, and they needed to act quickly.

And then Jacques found himself at the side of the road up some mountain path half an hour away in the spaghetti-like terrain, hugging his son loosely enough to try not to choke him any further.

“Pops, I’ll be fine,” Jeremy insisted, muffled against his shoulder, a change in height that was still new enough to be strange to Jacques. But his assurance was weakened by the way he was clinging for support. “Just gotta sleep it off, maybe. I’ll be okay. You can quit freakin’ out.”

“I cannot and will not stop freaking out,” Jacques insisted, hugging him tighter for a moment. “Not until I’m sure this has passed.”

Truthfully, he didn’t know exactly how long that would take. They were just past the 30 minute mark, which was usually, he knew, around the part where the person died if they were going to die at any point. But his son was not only conscious, but actively complaining, which surely was a good sign.

The remainder of their afternoon and well into the night, he found himself pacing, fretting, fidgeting with things and nagging and adjusting things just so where they’d finally settled down, at an empty campground a half hour’s drive away where he was reasonably certain they wouldn’t be found. And Jeremy continued to whine and complain about the treatment he was receiving where he’d been all but buckled into place in the back seat of their car, whinging about being coddled and babied and fussed over. But nothing could dissuade Jacques from it, and Jeremy seemed to catch on to that fact pretty quickly and just settled in to ride it out.

He made them both a little dinner with what they had in the small cooler they kept with them, and Jeremy ate cautiously enough to tell him that he was still nauseous, and he found himself trying to think of things to keep him distracted. He settled for asking Jeremy about that comic book he’d been rambling about earlier that week, and that earned him a solid hour’s rant about the ins and outs of American superheroes.

He was just getting a breath in to ask if this Green Lantern situation ever involved an actual lantern at any given point when Jeremy stopped suddenly, glancing down at his empty plate and setting it down to one side after a moment’s consideration.

“Sorry, I know this, uh, isn’t your speed,” he apologized quietly.

“Er,” Jacques said carefully, “I will admit that I’m not sure I’m doing the best job of picking up on all of these different names, but I do find all of this very interesting, for what that’s worth.”

Jeremy shrugged. “Uh. I dunno, maybe this just... feels weird, is all. Like, talkin’ about these guys who can fly and shoot lasers and stuff when, like... when stuff is so serious the rest of the time. Like, talkin’ about Hal Jordan versus Alan Scott when I got poisoned this morning.”

A sinking feeling. He tried to choose his words carefully. “In my opinion, that does not make what we’re talking about matter less, just... expands everything else around it,” he finally said. “Maybe it feels smaller to you, but only because this has made you take the proverbial step back. A different perspective.”

A pause. “Maybe,” Jeremy said quietly. Another pause. “I just think Hal Jordan isn’t gonna be anywhere near as cool, is all.”

“Big shoes to fill,” Jacques agreed easily enough.

“Yeah. Like, first of all, Alan Scott was already two first names, but I’ll let Scott slide because I don’t hear it much, right? But Hal Jordan? That’s even dumber! Who would name their kid that? That’s, like, askin’ for your kid to end up a superhero or somethin’. It’s just like Clark Kent. Pick somethin’ normal.”

“For the record, normal names have yet to exempt either of us from trouble,” he joked.

“Yeah, but, like, come on! But yeah, so it’s a whole thing that there’s only so many rings, right—?”

And just like that, Jeremy was launching back into his explanation. And later on, once he was recovered, Jacques decided to maybe bring it up again, this feeling of dread, of things feeling so much less than before. But in the mean time, he really needed to figure out how Green Arrow was meant to fit in with all these other Green individuals.