#this fucking weird cast because i swear there were so many covers

[astriexxe]

Les Mis 25th Jan 2024 :)

[rcksmith]

Heaven — Five Hargreeves

Request: “Can I get 53, 31, 48 from fluff and 28 and 29 and 68 with heavy smut? Where Five is an emotionless Assassin from the commission and does his job without remorse or mercy until he meets the reader and he will do anything to make her his? And will kill anyone who gets in his way between him and the reader? If your okay with this!”

Fluff prompts:

31. “I wasn’t lying when I said that I loved you.”

48. “nothing else matters except for you.”

53. “There are no limits when it comes to you. I’ll do anything to keep you safe.”

Smut prompts:

28. “Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

29. “I didn’t know you were so sensitive.”

68. “Say my name over and over again and, once you think you’ve said it loud enough, scream it. I want the whole neighborhood to know who’s making you feel good.“

A/N: We not tolerate any pedophilia here !!

I write about Five with their 20s. I write the same about the characters of Harry Potter.

My God, I loved it so much!! Thank you so much for request, I loved writing it!💖💖 I hope you like!

Guys, I really understand who doesn’t feel comfortable reading or writing Five’s smut. But I always say that I only write with him (any genre: romance, fluff or angst) with the notion that Five is 20 years old here. All of my fanfics mention swearing or sex, even if it is a memory or something shallow, but as I am writing with Five as an adult, it is consistent that the fic has aspects of an adult life.//

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

Couple: Five Hargreeves / Fem! Reader.

Warnings: SMUT, SMUT, bad words, blood, murder, mention of death (and sooo explicit heavy smut), fluff too.

— — — — —

He was not a saint.

The trail of blood, bodies and the smell of death he had left behind could terrify even the strongest mind. He could get the devil to run.

He has already broken many bones, but none of them were his own. Once, there was an army, he was alone, and he broke many bones.

He was not a saint.

If there was a note for death and danger, it would be his symphony of life. Echoing and constant whenever the viscous and metallic liquid stained him white shirt.

Five Hargreeves did not consider himself a good person. But he didn't think he was bad too. He was just minding his own business. Even if it meant killing the innocent people that the Commission was ordering.

It was ironic. Five had been raised by Reginald to be a hero, to save people, and what he was doing was just the opposite. Was Needed cold blood, a focused mind, an objective.

Five had a closed and serious countenance. And in his case, the book could very well be judged by the cover, because Five it was also closed and serious inside. He It had the typical soul of a storm and a rough sea, where the wind blew with fury and the rain punished, while the sea was brutal and with aggressive waves capable of swallowing up a city in its entirety.

Anyone could see the warning sign hanging from his chest: "GIVE UP ALL THE HOPE IF YOU ENTER HERE." He was advancing with heavy artillery. Five was heavy artillery. The Commission considered he best of the best.

Five Hargreeves could get the devil to run. Nobody couldn't fool him, hook him, he wasn't a trout. He was a shark, dangerous and big. With a sharp and cruelly intelligent mind. Working in an equally sharp and cruelly intelligent environment.

But none of that bothered him. Five did not fear the fury of the Commission or its representatives. Machiavelli said that: you can only insult the other if you are not afraid of his retaliation. And Five feared no one. When angry, he had the same caustic look that Lucifer threw around shortly after The Fall. And it was a surprise that that look did not leave a trail of rubble wherever it passed.

Five did not liked what he job did, but it did not affect that he was very good at it. He had been anesthetized for years. Submerged in an inertia of emotions that not even the largest number of victims could tremble. He was already convinced that his furthermore emotions were buried as deep as possible in his soul of the troubled sea, lost. Such as Atlantida. Perhaps, like Atlandida, his emotions were a myth.

And Five had already accepted that. Even he sets eyes on you.

It was another routine day of that profane work: finding the target, shooting down, not leaving witnesses and leaving. And that was exactly what would be done. If it was not you.

Five was seated at one of the tables at a local Irish bar, the glass filled with cold beer set in front of him. The rays of the sun, from a year that he did not even care to know more about, were entering inside the large windows that overlooked the busy streets. People's humorous conversations filled that place with bright, welcoming walls, but Five felt none of it. Anesthetized.

But for some reason, when the door bell rang when someone came in, he raised his face towards the door and... his breath was gone.

The moment you walked through that door, Five knew it was hopeless for him. Your beauty was blinding. Sublime. Impressive. He felt as if his whole life had been wandering in the desert and finally found his oasis. Lepid, fierce heat swept Five's body from the top of his head with night-black hair to the tip of his feet.

You wandered your eyes around the place, and you seemed to find what you wanted because your eyes softened and you went towards your goal.

But just as Five was oblivious to the world because of you, so were you oblivious to the world, but for something else. And it was like this, oblivious, that you hit your waist on the front end of Five's table, causing his glass to swing and fall on the table, pouring all the beer on the floor. Five stood up quickly to keep from getting wet, but a few splashes of the cold drink had hit his suit.

“Oh my God, I'm so sorry!”

You said promptly, trembling hands quickly lifting the glass from the table, your voice nervous and embarrassed. You righted his table while the waitress came to clean up the spilled liquid.

“I wet your suit, god, I'm so sorry.” And when Five noticed,your hands were drying the beer droplets with a napkin.

That was when the two of you looked at each other for the first time. The heat immediately gave way to a cold sweat.

Something inside him stirred and woke up, something that had been dormant for years. Sensations that had never before appeared now snaked through his body, waiting for the best time to hang him. Even with a layer of clothing and a napkin, Five felt the warmth of you touch, and he wondered if you had been forged in the sun.

Dangerous. The sensations you aroused in him were dangerous. And therefore, you were dangerous.

“It's all right.”

If it had been anyone else, Five would have burst. His moods were not one of the best and he felt that anything could set him on fire.

But apparently, not for you.

That afternoon, Five convinced you to join him, saying, whit charming, he would forget about the incident if you sat with him.

He tried to convince himself not to do that, that he should just give a mocking smile and leave. He had done this millions of times, and he knew it was one of the best ways to avoid headaches. Even so, the smile didn't come and he couldn't turn his back on you.

The sensations you stirred up in him were addictive, and Five was lost in a hurricane, trying to understand what was happening to him. But he couldn't let you go. Not without knowing his name.

But it took on proportions that he never considered. You were funny, witty, with an intelligent, warm gleam in your eyes. At that moment, while Five found himself really enjoying someone's company instead of just tolerating it, he felt out of his own body.

God, he was losing track of reality.

He had a job to do, a person to finish. The list was full but... but his body didn't order any muscles to move. It was like... while you were talking to him, with an extraordinary friendliness and ease of making friends, he felt alive for the first time.

Five had been alive for 25 years. But only now did he feel his own heart beat.

But when your time inevitably came, and you said goodbye and thanked you for the lunch that Five and you had — he didn't even remember how the situation got there. Since when did he have lunch with someone? — As soon as you left for that door, it took with you all the new feelings that were aroused within him.

Executing the target that day was weird, going to Motel's room was weird, and cleaning the blood was weird. There was something different, a shortness of breath, an itch in the palm of his hand, his body desperate for something he didn't know what it was.

Five Hargreeves stayed in that martyrdom for days, weeks. He was trying to understand his own body, his own mind. He felt he was losing his sanity and that the body, now that he experienced what it was like to be alive, repudiated the feeling of feeling dead.

He was trapped in some damn spell that you had cast on him. If Five looked in the mirror at the place of the chest you touched over his shirt, he could feel his skin tingle.

Fuck, he was losing his sanity!

The situation was stupid, he didn't need anyone, he didn't depend on anyone. But after the second week Five found himself returning to that bar again, feeling completely stupid to be looking for someone he barely knew.

What a stupid thing. He said to himself as soon as entered that place.

But that's when he saw you. With the bar uniform on, you hair tied up in a ponytail with a few strands dangling from your face, your chest slightly heaving, a pad of paper with a pen in hands. His heart skipped a beat, as if he found something he didn't even know was lost.

Five felt lost amidst a jumble of thoughts and reactions. But as soon as you saw him, with a smile was purely sincere and happy appearing on you lips and went towards him, the answers to all the questions that plagued him for weeks flashed in his mind like neon lights:

I want her.

He wanted you since the day he saw you. You were beautiful, with a maddening body, a sublime smile and the heat of a thousand suns. Now Five realized that had never wanted anything so desperately in his life.

Five thought he understood the desire: an attraction, a magnetic current between two people. He thought he knew what lust was: an intense hunger, a strong yearning. And he found out that he didn't understand anything.

For when you embraced him and greeted him with a kiss on the cheek, the desire was a hot, black whirlwind that ripped you from end to end, with dizzying speed, and dragged you towards perdition, below any intellect. Five thought he was going crazy when he felt your heart beat next to his, in the same frantic rhythm. The same compass needed.

But Five was not going crazy. He wasn’t crazy when he saw your cheeks flush when he looked at you more carefully, he wasn’t crazy when he noticed your hands trembling slightly with his presence.

Were you feeling the same things?

Yes. And he found that out when first kissed you. It had been a few weeks since he had used, for himself, the excuse that he was going to that bar just to drink something and not to see you again.

But that was not how you two met that day

Five had just finished a job that did not end soo much great. A fight had taken place, and a bullet had grazed his left shoulder, tearing through the flesh. His clothes were flooded with red, thick, metallic liquid. His muscles ached and the wound stung like hell.

He was on his way back when the car popped loudly, the car stalled in place and smoke began to rise from the bikes.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me!” Five punched the steering wheel, cursed the Commission for making such a damn fuck thing available.

He had just gotten out of the car when a car passed by and stopped.

“Five?” This time, his body throbbed for something else instead of pain.

He saw you get out of the car, your eyes shocked, the livid concern on your face, your hands shaking.

“My god, are you okay?!”

Five hated to appear that he was not able to deal with anything, but there was no plausible and peaceful lie to what you were seeing. You didn't let him make any decisions at that moment, you just stuck him in you own car, and when the chance of taking Five to the hospital had been vehemently denied by him, you ran the car to you own apartment.

“Oh my god, oh my god.”

You whispered to yourself, now at in your bed, closing the cut on Five's shoulder after he took a shower.

“I can do this.” He repeated it for the ninth time, but you shook your head.

But, while for you the situation was only for first aid, for Five it was torture in a very different sense.

Your touch was addictive, hot and fiery. Five didn't want to want you, but he did. He wanted you to beg for it too, so that Five could pretend to be in control. He wanted you to burn for him, just as he always burned when he was near you.

Under a light gauze, you covered the bruise on his shoulder, letting out a loud sigh that went to another very specific spot on Five's body. You asked for an explanation and he said that he had been mugged and reacted, but that the bandits had received what they deserved. He had to lie. At least for now. At least while he wanted you so much to touch him.

Perhaps this madness would pass.

But it didn't pass, your hands were still on Five's warm skin and he felt his heart pounding in his chest.

He wanted you. Holy Mother of God, he wanted you so fuck much! The knuckles of his fingers were whitened, the strength with which he clenched his fists.

But you whispered his name under your breath, as if you too were trapped in that cloud of lust and passion. So it was the end. Five kissed you, hungry, desperate, as if he wasn't going to have a tomorrow. He pulled you around the waist so you could sit on his lap, his hands roaming your body, squeezing all the flesh he could touch.

“I was asking how much more time was take to you to kiss me.”

You whispered against his lips, with a mischievous smile on your face, your hands roaming through his hair as you held a sigh when he adjusted your hips under you. God only knows how long you've been dreaming about this guy.

“Such a needy little thing, aren't you?” Five barely recognized his own voice.

This time, you who kissed him, your body burning in suppressed passion and desire, burning under the intense touch of Five. You hardly saw it when your shirt left, nor when you skirt went up until it was exposed to him. You whimpered, your lips going down to his neck and hiding your face there, squirming when his hand went up from your thigh to its pulsating center.

“Your skin is so hot. You were wishing for that, weren't you?” Five whispered, his voice hoarse.

You heart was beating fast in chest, cheeks were flushed, and Five brought your face up to look at him, lust bubbling in her eyes. You frantically agreed, rummaging you hips in him when you gasped. He curled his mouth over your left breast, groaning against your skin as you tightened your fingers on the back of his neck.

“F-five!” The liquid dripped from inside you to your thighs, and Five let out a loud moan of satisfaction when he saw it.

He raised his mouth to you, and, without kissing you, he sighed maliciously on yours lips: “I didn’t know you were so sensitive.”

After that point, everything became more crude. Five's touch on your waist gained pressure, marking your skin with purple marks on his fingers, his mouth bit and sucked on your breast, like a hungry man, and you were being driven crazy.

That's when two of his fingers entered you, deep, strong, opening your walls.

"Five!" You moaned loudly, your body hot under his lap, at the mercy of lustful desires.

“Shit! You are so tight!” His moan transcended between painful and angry, as if you were pushing him to the limit. “How are you going to put up with my dick, doll? You almost can't take my fingers!”

Five jerked his fingers inside you and hit rock bottom. You screamed, tears welling up in your eyes, the walls throbbing on his dick.

“Answer me!” His free hand came down on your thigh, and you bit your lip to keep from moaning loudly again.

“II am going to put up with you-everything.” You whined.

“How much?!” Five pulled your chin up to look at him, the hunger overwhelming his eyes, he's holding on as much as possible so he doesn't deal too badly with you.

Not yet.

“An-Anything as you give it to me.” You purred like a kitten "Fuck me hard, Five."

Oh you didn't say that.

His hand came down on your left cheek, letting out a soft slap and pulled your chin back at him, he jaw clenched by the effort he made to keep from fucking and hitting you so hard.

“Do you want it hard?! I will leave you without walking for days!” Five got up with you on his lap, threw you on the bed and slapped your thigh.

“Turn around!” He ordered in a snarl, removing his own pants, and as soon as you positioned yourself with your hips up and your face on the mattress, a hard, brutal slap made you moan loudly, squeezing your hands on the pillow.

The right hand wrapped around your hair, pulling your face off the pillow as Five positioned itself behind you.

“What you want?” He growled.

“I whant You fuck me hard!” God, you were begging, you needed him so much, you wanted him so much.

“How much hard?”

“Much! I want you to fuck me until I can't stay…”

Five came inside you brutally, pushing your body onto the mattress, making you moan loudly. He didn't let you finish, it barely gave you time to moan. As soon as he started to move, his rhythm became relentless, coarse, rude, forcing himself deeper inside you with each thrust.

Tears stung your face, you pussy throbbed in excitement, so fucking good that you felt like you were in heaven.

“What is it, lillet slut?” He pushed deeper, his voice arrogant and condescending, “Am I too big for you? For that tight pussy?” A slap went down your ass again, the other hand never coming out of your hair.

“F-fi-five! Please, I need this so much!”

The desperation in your voice did things to him, further igniting Five's desire to fuck you until he broke you.

“You were so tight! So. fucking. tight!” And you moaned and pushed him hips at him like you couldn't live without what he gave you. “Fuck, this is what you wanted, isn't it? You wanted me to broke you!”

“Yes!” You screamed as he keeping fuck you deeper and deeper “Pl-please!”

Your voice was too much for him! Five's hunger snarled and roared like a beast, increasing the desire to get you so badly. He hit your ass hard, letting go of your hair and sticking both hands on your waist, pulling you violently to his dick.

“Say my name over and over again! And, once you think you’ve said it loud enough, scream it. I want the whole neighborhood to know who’s making you feel good! ” Five combined a deep thrust with the tug on his waist, making his dick reach your unimaginable corners.

“Five!”

“Higher!” A slap.

“Five!” One more slap.

“Higher!” Another slap.

“F-FIVE!”

His mouth went to your shoulder, his lips tightening there as he pushed himself deep inside you. You were very close, super stimulated, your legs were shaking, your heart was pounding.

Five was fucking you so hard that you could barely groan, giving you sensations that you never felt before. You came with a loud groan, trembling on his dick, losing your breath when Five sank to the bottom of the well and came there, filling you with his hot cum.

Five Hargreeves thought that after that he would be free of your effects, freed from that desperation that was always wanting to be with you.

But then again, he was deeply mistaken.

Everything only increased in unimaginable proportions. Jealousy came, the overwhelming sense of protection, the need to be with you. Now he not only fucked you hard, but he made a point of leaving you at work and picking you up at night.

And that's when you said you loved him. And his world has turned inside out once again. Five didn't respond right away, he was dumbfounded and bewildered, and you said he only had to speak when he was ready.

He love you? That question hung around his mind for days.

Five felt at peace with you company, relaxed with your touch, happy whenever he heard your voice. You were the only place he thought about going back after a hard job, after the day had gotten the best of him.

He love you?

That was when The Handler told him, in one day, that it was good that his new “pet” did not make him deviate from the Commission's objectives.

Five has never felt so furious in his life. He came as close to her as possible, making her look death in the eye, and said that if any hair disappeared from your pretty head, he would stop everything and kill everyone on that commission. And The Handler knew that Five was not bluffing.

That's when he found out that he loved you. That the idea of ​​seeing you hurt, even if it was a scratch, was unacceptable. And that's when Five realized that his world only revolved when you were with him.

“I love you.” He released that night, you were lying on his chest, watching some series on TV when Five cut off the characters' lines.

You looked at him in bewilderment, propping yourself up on your elbow to see him better.

“What?”

Five looked him in the eye, and in the most sincere and truthful way, he said: "nothing else matters except for you."

Your eyes filled with tears, and you kissed him as if Five were your whole world. In fact, he certainly were your world. But it was at that moment that he said he had to talk to you, and that's when he told you the whole truth.

Shocked would be an understatement to say what you felt at that moment.

It took a few days for you to digest the whole truth and several conversations with Five to understand what was really going on. You saw his powers, his briefcase, his life story. And Five knew, when the dust settled and you said that none of that mattered, that you really loved him.

“I just can't have anything with someone who hides things from me.” You said “ I understand the reasons why you didn't tell me before, but now I don't want any more lies between us.”

“None.” He smiled, and looked at you as if he finally understood that you loved him.

And it is logical that you noticed.

“ I wasn’t lying when I said that I loved you." You laughed.

And in that moment, in that fraction of a second, Five realized that he would never be able to live without you.

“I'm just afraid of your job. Whether you get hurt or they want to hurt you coming after me and…”

Five didn't let you finish. He held you in his hands, your cheeks in his palms, and whispered, “There are no limits when it comes to you. I'll do anything to keep you safe. ”

[argylemikewheeler]

July 1st, 1985

what the first ep of (my) s3 would look like if the main concept was: both Steve and Will are gay in 1985’s Summer of Love and the town’s enemy is a little more human; loving friendships, very confused adults, and Will Byers Actually Getting Help

“Harrington!”

“Yes, sir.” Steve looked up from his desk. He dropped his crossword and looked to be at attention; the police station’s phone wasn’t ringing, though, so there wasn’t really anything he should have been doing. Hopper stepped out of his office, angling himself toward the door rather than Steve’s desk island.

“Do you think you’ll be able to-- Harrington, what are you doing?” Hopper caught sight of the pocket thesaurus sitting on his desk (the last name written on the inside cover not belonging to Steve, of course). Hopper fixed his sunglasses on the edge of his nose, looking over them and down at Steve.

“I’m just, uh, working on my vocabulary.” Steve said. Hopper blinked twice, waiting. Steve wasn’t going to say the truth: he was dating-- well seeing someone-- way smarter than him. This wasn’t for joy or boredom. He was studying to impress. “It’s college prep, sir.”

“The crossword?” The chief evened his stare. “This your old man’s suggestion?” Of all the things Steve’s father was telling him to do with himself, he  wished  some of it was simply pecking at a crossword over a twelve hour shift.  Fucking off  and  being a better piece of shit son  just wasn’t feasible to accomplish in one summer.

“He swears by it.”

“Okay, well. Uh, moving on from that,” Hopper grabbed his hat from the coat rack. The topic of Steve’s father always made Hopper stiffen up; it was definitely the main reason Hopper gave Steve his job at the station, but it still created more questions. Steve knew Hopper and his father went to high school together, but he never asked his father about those years-- beyond his baseball glory stories. “I’ve got plans tonight and I need to head out early. Can you handle things on your own for a while. At least until the night shift comes in?”

“I’ll be fine.” Steve made sure not to acknowledge the crossword on his desk as he nodded. He was really good at his job, he was. He was also just, unfortunately, still a pretty shitty boyfriend and needed all the vocab help he could get. “What’s the pressing story?”

“I have dinner.” Hopper was already trying to walk out the door. “So  don’t  call me. For the love of God.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Chief. I--” Steve was sure it was the cool July wind that slammed the door on the last half of his sentence. Not Hopper. “won’t... Have a good time, I guess.”

The police station was empty: it was another boring and wonderfully quiet Monday in Hawkins. There’d been some calls to break up disturbances at city hall in the past few days, but somehow everyone just seemed to agree that Mondays-- the longest shift of Steve's whole week-- was the day everyone went about their quietest day.

There were a few officers milling in and out of the back lounge and front door, casting a quick glance to Steve as he muttered and threatened fourteen down and six across. Nancy had been helping close the gaps of his post-high school education-- without knowing just what for-- but had been picking up most hours at the Post to try and elbow her way into their good graces; it put his tutoring on hold. So here he was, groaning at some clues about classical artists he’d never heard of.

There were other reasons Steve was sure the other officers thought he was odd-- things he was  sure  his father had passed along in spitting rants-- but Steve didn’t mind. No one said anything to his face.

“Hey Flo! Is, uh, is Steve here?” The question was asked with the answer already in mind.

Steve sat up in his chair, twisting around to see down the hall to the back entrance to the station. There weren’t many parking spots to fill, but he knew a certain someone who preferred it to street parking.

“Jonathan?”

“Oh, I hear him. Thanks-- hey!” Jonathan hurried out from the hall, his camera bumping against his stomach and bag slapping against his leg in the same rhythm. He’d gotten a new haircut recently: semi-wonky bangs and a closer cut in the back. All thanks to Steve’s peer pressure and Mrs. Byers’s kitchen shears.

“What are you doing here?”

“Sorry to stop by your work like this--” he lowered his voice as he stopped at the corner of Steve’s desk. “I know we said we wouldn’t do that, but we got an extra muffin in the lunch order and I know you’re always starving after a Monday shift so.” Jonathan produced a folded brown paper bag from his satchel. “Here.”

“Oh, thanks.” Steve wanted to say so much more, but had to settle. No more. None of what they’d decided they wouldn’t say. Not until the summer had ended. They wanted to see if they lasted longer than the convenience of loose summer schedules.

“Won’t I see you, uh, later, though?” At eight, when Steve got sent home he always drove straight to Jonathan’s. Jonathan started late on Tuesdays and Steve had off; they had the time to waste. “Or is this your way of telling me to stay home?”

“No! No we’re still... hanging out.” Jonathan had gotten really good at cooking and treated Steve to weekly dinner. It was a nice gesture at first, but Steve started growing fond of the company. They both did around mid-June. “But, I think Mike’s going to be over so. Be  cool , alright? Keep it cool.”

“Cool, got it.” Steve leaned back in his chair. He moved his papers to leave a corner of his desk for Jonathan to sit on. No one was in the main office; it was a harmless invitation.

“I have to get going...” It sounded like an excuse, a dive for safety. “And I’m sure you have, um,  puzzles  to do?” Jonathan pretended not to be endeared. He tried, he really did. He  failed , but Steve pretended he didn’t notice.

“Don’t want to sit and help me figure out the title of Mozart’s last opera?” He patted the desk, daring to be more direct.

“I really have to go.” Jonathan was genuine, looking at his watch. “The Post only let me out early today because I have to go pick up Will from his doctor’s appointment.”

“Wait.” Steve put the cap back on his pen. “Isn’t Will’s therapy on Wednesday?”

“Yeah, but with Mom’s schedule and the store being all weird-- we had to move it to today. And you know we typically have a family night after-- so he feels okay, you know-- but we  can’t  . So,  that’s why Mike’s coming over. Hopefully they’ll be idiots and tire Will out and he’ll sleep okay.” Tension rose in Jonathan’s voice quickly, explaining his day as if going over a laundry list; never rehearsing it but having it memorized.

“I can stay home if you need time, Jonathan.”

“No, really. I want you to come over.” Jonathan sighed and placed his hand on the emptied spot on Steve’s desk. “Besides, you can’t break tradition after a little over  one month , then it was just a weird habit.”

Steve Harrington did not consider his summer fling a w  eird habit . If anything, it was the most sensical thing he’d done in a very long time. Even after getting rejected from all his colleges, and never hearing the end of his father’s lectures, 1985 had been very kind to him. And that was mostly due to Jonathan’s inherent nature to be the same.

“I’ll see you after eight.” Steve smiled and reached for his hand-- but averted to grab a piece of memo paper by the phone.

“I’m sorry to leave in a rush.” Jonathan hitched his bag up, checking his watch again. “I just, I really need to get going.”

“Don’t worry. The muffin is  more  than enough.” Steve said. “And seeing you wasn’t too bad either.”

“Slow day, huh?” Jonathan said. The corner of his mouth quirked with a flattered, embarrassed smile. Steve tried to act nonchalant, like he wasn’t so goddamn relieved to see a familiar and happy face. Especially  his  familiar and happy face. “Well, good thing I have another surprise for you.”

“You can barely fit your camera in that bag, what could you possibly-- hey!” Steve missed grabbing Jonathan’s arm as he walked away, heading for the front door. “Where are you going?” Jonathan kept walking, checking his watch the whole way. “Hello?”

“Delivered right on time.” Jonathan pushed the front door open to the station-- but was nearly knocked over as a green  dash  barreled through it.

"Steve! Steve! Steve!” The dash was suddenly grabbing him by the shoulders. “You got the job!”

“Henderson! Oh my god! You’re back!” In an unlikely impulse, Steve grabbed Dustin in a hug, taking advantage of the change of height. “Holy shit, I nearly forgot! First of the month!”

“See you, Steve.” Jonathan walked across the room to the back entrance again. His hand braced the back of Steve’s chair, brushing across his shoulders.

“O-Okay! Yeah, see you!” Steve sputtered, losing his reminded  cool  in an instant. “Bye.”

Dustin pulled away slowly. “What was that?” It looked like  everyone  was too smart for Steve.

“Nothing. He brought me a surprise lunch-- which was an  obvious decoy to the main event! You! How are you, buddy? How was camp?”

“Oh, it was fantastic. Steve, I  have  to show you all my inventions! Camp was the  best  four weeks  of  my  life .” Dustin hopped up onto the corner of his desk. His heels tapped against the empty metal drawers. He was jittery, nearly uncontainable, but still so composed-- if only to be focused all on Steve.

Steve held his hands out, letting him start. “Lay it on me, Henderson! I want to hear everything. I missed you like crazy.”

“Well, first, obviously. I have to tell you about my girlfriend--”

“Whoa! Whoa!  Girlfriend  ? That fast?” Steve hadn’t been expecting any of his dating advice to work. It had been coming from such a poor and confused part of himself, Steve figured it was destined to fail. Apparently, it was just  Steve  that was-- when flirting with women at least. “Damn, there’s something in you after all!”

“She’s  super  smart, Steve. I’ve never met any girl like her. She’s a genius and she’s so pretty. God, I miss her already-- and I  just  saw her.”

Steve looked over his shoulder. He knew the feeling. “That’s great, man. I mean, I’m super happy for you. Like, that’s  crazy . That’s freaking awesome.”

“So what about you? How are the ladies? I mean, you work for the  Chief  now. All the ladies you could need and more, am I right?”

Steve used to be really good at this part of the lie, but with Dustin it felt cheap. He didn’t need to lie to him, but that was the deal; no matter how much that person was Steve’s best and most beloved friend, their secret was a dead-bolt, vaulted secret.

“Eh, not too great. Only girl my own age I see-- besides Nancy, really-- is the night-shift girl, Robin. But she’s not really-- we’re just friends. She’s alright. Leaves me weird drawings in the memo pad.”

“Ooo, she sounds cool.” Dustin raised his eyebrows. “Do you know her from school?”

“Yeah, we didn’t really run in the same crowds but-- it’s not like that, man. It’s really not.” Steve started unwrapping his lunch. “It’s so not like that with Robin.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m not...  looking  at the moment.”

Steve had originally decided to not go looking for trouble. After he and Nancy split in the beginning of his senior year, he didn’t start looking for an immediate replacement. The illusion of thinking he was in love with Nancy-- capable of being in love with Nancy-- was a hard thing to have come crumbling down. Steve needed time to get his own bearings, to put his feet firmly on the ground, and have them lifted off when his father grabbed him by the lapels and--

Steve hadn’t gone looking for trouble. Hadn’t gone looking for love either. But somehow, both seemed to find him.

Jonathan was late. He usually wasn’t but Will was trying not to be worried. It was a different day than usual and he knew how awful Jonathan’s boss and co-workers were. Will tried not to be worried-- he wasn't. It was just that he had spent an hour talking about the night his father left their family; standing outside the doctor’s office was a bit nerve-wracking. It felt too familiar, even with all the talking and note-scribbling.

Finally, Jonathan’s car pulled into the lot. He was speeding, as much as his car  could  speed: he knew he was late, which made Will feel a little bit better. No one had forgotten him. It was just traffic or his bosses or maybe just hitting all the red lights. As Jonathan stopped in front of the curb and waved Will in, Will could see he was jittery-- he was  upset  that he was late. Will felt bad for counting the minutes.

Not that he did it out of impatience or anything. Will just formed the habit after getting his new watch. It matched Mike’s. Completely on accident, of course.

“Hey, buddy! Sorry I’m late. I was-- I had to run an errand really fast. How long were you waiting.” He moved his bag and threw it onto the backseat. Will would’ve held it on his lap.

“I wasn’t keeping track.” Will said, climbing into the passenger seat. Will wanted to ask if his bag had Jonathan’s camera in it. If everything was okay. He didn’t. It seemed like Jonathan had been in his therapy with Will, just as shaken up. “It’s okay. Thanks for getting me.”

Jonathan waited until Will put on his seat belt. “Of course. We’re always here to pick you up. Therapy is important; you have to go.”

Will laughed before he could stop himself. “You sound like Mom.”  Why?

“Because she’s right.” Therapy was still kind of weird to Will-- since  no one else  in his grade had to do it-- but he humored his family. It was helping, if he had to admit it. But it was still embarrassing sometimes.

His therapist, Dr. Bright--  Rose Marie, as she insisted on being called-- was a send-out from the Lab, but disguised within a private practice just outside of town. She was able to listen to Will talk about what he saw and felt during his time with the Mind Flayer without trying to commit him. Almost nothing was off limits. Almost nothing.

Will checked his watch again.

“Are you excited to see Mike tonight?” The question was pointed, but Will wasn’t sure why it made him nervous. “I mean, I feel like I haven’t seen him in a bit.”

“Oh, yeah. He’s always with El.”

Will was sure they  weren’t  dating. El was just on a year-long stint of self-discovery and, besides Max, Mike was the person she trusted the most to help make as many helpful mistakes as possible. He bought her books to read and new music to try. It was really sweet, seeing Mike take such big strides toward helping their friend. But there was also a part of Will that felt dejected:  his  sort of help had to be prescribed and couldn’t be replaced with a warm laugh from one Mike Wheeler.

Will was sick while his friends were growing.

“Is there something wrong?” Jonathan used to ask the question like Will was one trembling lip away from crying-- but this time, he asked it like Will had his hand on the door, seconds from jumping out. “Will, are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Will nodded. “I’m fine. Just-- I talked a lot today and I’m tired.”

“Do you want to cancel with Mike--”

“No.” Will had been looking forward to having time with Mike--  just  Mike-- for a whole week. He wanted to sit on his floor with his best friend and be a kid again. Just for the night-- maybe draw some of Mike’s old campaigns or sketch out an idea for his own. He just wanted to remember something good about the past four years. After his hour with Dr. Bright, it all felt painful. Like his childhood naivety had been broken and every conversation he overheard in his house dripped with venom and disdain.

Will didn’t like picturing his house that way. It was a place that loved and raised him, a place he felt safe. He didn’t like thinking the conversations he heard being screamed through the walls were trapped in the drywall.

His arms felt heavy and his chest felt like it was made of metal-- he kept tasting it in his mouth. Will leaned back against the seat and reached for the radio. Jonathan turned it down before Will had even changed the station.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I just want to see Mike.” Will said, his mouth too honest and his mind shrouded in guilt. “I just want to see my friend.”

“Okay. Okay.” Jonathan nodded somewhat somberly. “I understand. Let’s go pick him up. He’s at his house right? Not El’s-- o-or The Sinclair’s or anything?”

“No. He’s at his.” Will crossed his arms and tried to find the loose string-- the thing that could uncoil Jonathan’s still-tightening anxiety. “Are you still dating Nancy?”

Jonathan turned to look at Will, nearly crashing the car. That was the wrong string. “What?”

“Nancy? Are you still dating her?”

“I was never dating Nancy.” Jonathan laughed, shaking his head. “I’m not dating Mike’s sister, don’t worry.” The clarification was strange and felt off-topic. Like Jonathan was trying to talk about something else.

“I thought you were. You guys hung out a lot during school.” Will heard her voice through the walls too. Always gentle, never yelling. Except when she was losing at playing cards. Then she shouted.

“She was helping me pass chemistry. That’s all.” Jonathan turned the radio up a little. Will checked his watch. “And then she helped me apply to the Post internship-- she’s great at writing papers, did you know that? A real wordsmith. Is Mike a writer too?”

He was, he  really  was. Grammatically, Will ran out of red pens trying to help, but creatively? Will envied Mike’s ability. “I don’t know. We don’t really talk about that kind of stuff like you two do… Since you two are dating.”

“We’re  not .” Jonathan laughed. Will took advantage of an upcoming stop sign to lean forward and look at his brother’s crimson face. “We’re not, Will, okay? We’re really not. I’d tell you.”

“You’d tell me?”

“Of course! I’d tell you if I… I had a girlfriend. Which I don’t!” He stayed at the stop sign for a bit too long. “Do you?”

There was an option to play dumb, to make Jonathan ask more directly:  do you have a girlfriend, Will ? but it sounded far more painful than being honest, than being as lonely as he was.

“No. I don’t.”

“And you’d tell me. If you were dating someone?” Jonathan looked at Will, hopeful but scarcely so. “You’ll tell me if anything big happens in your life?”

“Yeah.” There wouldn’t be anything happening at all that summer, that was for  damn sure . “Absolutely.”

Steve had about seventy percent of his puzzle done-- fifty of which was because Dustin was an unstoppable genius with no tolerance for Steve’s careful pace. It was just about quarter past seven, and Steve’s back was getting sore from sitting in his chair all day. He only liked sitting when it was in his car, on his way to the Byers's House, careful, of course, to obey all traffic laws.

Steve was packing his crosswords and pens up in the top drawer of his desk when something clattered the back door open. Steve grabbed a pen and whipped around in his seat, as if to wield it like a weapon.

“Hello? Who’s there?”

“Hey dingus.” Luckily, Steve couldn’t even see Robin yet-- or rather, she couldn’t see him or his emphasized eye roll. She could hear him groan though. “Hey, shut up and quit whining. I’m sending you home early.”

Her head popped out from the hallway. Robin’s ponytail was high on her head, the hair flopping over and getting caught in her stringy bangs. She flung her backpack out from behind her and tossed it toward Steve. She wasn’t in her uniform yet, only wearing the buttoned up shirt-- unbuttoned and showing her torn and dyed shirt underneath. She was wearing jogging shorts, her knees torn up and covered with Band-Aids. They reminded Steve of the ones taped to his face after getting a plate smashed into his forehead. Deceivingly cheerful.

“What are you doing here early?” Steve stood and followed her, holding her backpack awkwardly in his hands. “You’re  never  early.” Eight on the dot. Every time.

“I figure you want to get out of here tonight.” She didn’t even stop to look at Steve as they walked into the back room. “Probably want to see your boyfriend.”

Her words weren’t sharp, but Steve still recoiled. He let his arms, and her bag, hang by his sides.

“Who? Jonathan?” The only way Jonathan and Robin had ever met was in the hallways of Hawkins High. She definitely never saw them interact at the station-- or on any of their nights together: they were always indoors. “He’s  not my boyfriend.”

“First off, I didn't even say a name." Shit. "Second, he came in the other day looking for you.” Robin started buttoning her shirt up, fixing the collar as she finally turned to see Steve. “He was really upset-- didn’t even know what time it was to know you weren’t working.”

“Upset?” Technically, it wasn’t Steve’s problem. It was the deal; they didn’t  have  to care about each other’s lives. It was just summer. It was just like any other summer.

“Yeah. Crying, sniffling, snot-- the whole nine, man.” Robin sounded extremely sympathetic despite beginning to change her pants. Steve whipped around, covering his face. “You should go see him. Make sure he’s okay. Be a good boyfriend... shithead.”

“He’s  not--”

“Steve, I’m the last person you should be arguing with.” Robin laughed-- and it was only momentarily threatening. Until, of course, Steve realized what she meant.

Like all good secrets kept at Hawkins PD, Steve kept his mouth shut and nodded even if she wasn’t looking.

“Yes, sir--ma'am-- Robin.”

“So, are you going to go or what, dingus?” She tapped him on the shoulder. “Get out of here-- and tell me all about it Wednesday.”

Steve blinked at her, holding out her bag. As if it was enough thanks to give her back her own property. “Are we… friends, or something?”

“No, of course not.” She winked, slapping his arm. “Just looking out for one of my own.”

After picking Mike up from his house, they drove home in uncharacteristic chatter. Jonathan was the only one speaking, humming along to the radio. Will was exhausted beyond performative small talk; the type that had to be done between two best friends when a third party was present. Mike was great at just sitting with Will in silence, but Jonathan didn’t know that. Instead, the three of them passed around quiet jokes and laughter, answering questions about their friends for Jonathan’s upkeep of information.

Once they got in the house, Jonathan let them wander off into Will’s room as he started pulling pots out of the kitchen cabinets. He wouldn’t bother or pester them about any summer work, either. They would be left alone in their own coupled silence.

Mike was sitting cross-legged on Will’s floor, twisting one of Will's crayons between his fingers. Will needed new ones but he felt funny asking for them as a near-freshman in high school. He liked the glide of wax on paper compared to the scrape of colored pencils. Well, that and the fact he ruined half of his crayons the year prior making a full map of Hawkins in a fugue state and only had two crayons able to be used normally.

“You had doctor stuff today, right?”

Will was digging under his bed for his emptier sketch book. “Yeah. Therapy.  Doctor  doctor stuff was two weeks ago.”

“How was it?” Mike let his hand still and rest in his lap. “Like, what do you do in therapy? Just start talking?”

“Yeah, but it’s more than that. You have to think about stuff too. Doctors ask you questions, sometimes.” Will pulled back and drug his old drawing supplies along the carpet. He sat back on his heels and was able to see Mike over the top of the bed. He didn’t know Will was looking. “You have to have answers.”

“What do they ask about?” Mike kept looking at his hands, unaware of Will. “Upside down stuff?”

“Sometimes.” Will shuffled back around to Mike's side of the bed. He could feel the tiniest bit of rug burn starting. “She asked me about my dad today.”

Mike looked up, almost immediately. “Can she do that?”

“Why can’t she?” Will popped the lid on the retired Tupperware, now his art bin. “I talked about it.”

“I thought you didn’t like to.” Will had never said those words which meant Mike had gathered it from just observing him. “Did you… like talking about it?”

“Not really.” Will laughed. He found a few extra crayons, but of all the wrong colors. “She had this big speech afterward about learned helplessness that I… really didn’t like.” Will tried to keep laughing.

Mike put the crayon back in the bin. “Are you okay, Will?”

“Yeah. It’s just… the same old stuff.” Will shrugged. “Sometimes it just bothers me more than other days.”

Mike bit the inside of his cheek, picking at his words carefully. “You never talk about your dad, Will.”

“Why would I?”

“Because it bothers you. You can talk about anything you want-- I… I would listen.”

“You don’t have to listen to it just because it happened to me, you know. My therapist says you don’t have to experience things with me for them to be real.”

“But I want to know.” Mike looked insulted, almost crushed and collapsed as he sat back on his hands. “That’s your dad,” he said. “And you’re my friend.”

They sat in silence for a while. Mike went back to studying a new crayon, picking at the wrapper. Will felt something forming in his throat. A bubble that was hot, thick and sticky. Not vomit, but not impending tears either.

“I don’t get why he left.” Will said. “I don’t know what happened to our family.”

“Nothing happened. Maybe he just… wasn’t good at being your dad anymore.”

“But then why? What did I do?” Will didn’t want to ask Mike, make him feel responsible for answering, but Will was desperate to ask the universe again.

“Nothing.” Mike said. “I just think he…”

“He what? My dad got tired of me? Didn’t want to raise me?”

“Maybe he actually learned how to take a hint and knew he wasn’t good enough for you and Jonathan-- or your mom.” Mike wanted to be hopeful, to be positive, so badly. He ached, his smile tight and weak. He didn't have the answers, and who was Will to put him in the position to come up with them.

“So he gave up.” Will said.

“That’s not what I meant--”

“I know. I know… That’s just how it feels.” Will shrugged. He smiled at Mike, accepting his help and his warmth. It hurt knowing that Mike was wrong, but still. Will could always pretend a little longer. Anything for Mike.

“Hey! You monsters hungry?” Steve clapped his hands together before gently tapping the door. “Jonathan’s got dinner on the table.”

The door was open. Steve didn’t have to knock. He wanted to, just to prove he wasn’t  too  comfortable, but he also knew Mike was over. And knocking would announce his entrance rather than letting it just be something that just  was  . Rather than being  cool .

Awkwardly and with a lot of weird, throat-clearing fanfare, Steve opened the Byers’s front door and poked his head inside. Jonathan called him in from the kitchen without even needing to say hello, or being surprised by his walking in:  In here, Steve! Dinner’s almost done .

Steve walked through the living room carefully, as if he’d disturb it. There was a tape playing softly-- some band Steve’s never heard of, but didn’t hate. He’d grown to like the way that every song played in the Byers house was always moody and melancholy. The music was always the opposite of how he felt stepping into the kitchen.

Jonathan was at the stove, stirring a pot of something that smelled delicious. He had what looked to be tomato sauce stains on the front of his shirt-- where he wrapped his hand up to open the sauce jar. Steve was able to hide his smile as he shouldered off his uniform jacket and toed off his shoes, claiming a chair at the kitchen table.

“How was work?” Jonathan didn’t stop stirring. He moved like the stove was turned all the way up and he was afraid of burning the food. He spoke that way too.

“It was fine. Not a whole lot.” Steve didn’t want to have anything seem bigger than whatever upset Jonathan-- and seemed to still be upsetting him now. “How was your day?”

“Fine. Will and Mike are in the other room.” He was checking things off his list. Steve stepped up to Jonathan and stood even with him at the stove. He was making one-pot pasta. It really did smell fantastic. Steve was so hungry, even after his lunch.

“How was… the other things in your day? Develop any good pictures?” Steve covered how stupid he sounded by placing his hand on Jonathan’s lower back.

Jonathan stopped stirring and looked at him. Steve tried to keep cool, tried not to show his motives-- his attempt to calm something he couldn’t believe he’d missed spinning out of control, even if he didn’t know what it was. “Nancy walked into the dark room today-- she’s actually the one who gave me the muffin-- and she exposed the photos to light too early. So no, actually.”

Steve really was a bad boyfriend. Even when he wasn’t one yet-- or at all.

“Okay… how was. Everything else?”

“You don’t have to ask about my day, Steve. It’s okay.” Jonathan sighed and spoke evenly. “I’m just a little tired. Really. We don’t have to do the whole…  thing .”

The whole thing where Steve was explicit about how much he really cared about Jonathan and admitted he was sincerely and terrifyingly in love with Jonathan.

“I was asking because I was curious. Not out of obligation.” Steve clarified. His hand slid to rest on Jonathan’s hip. He moved closer, lips aiming to place a commitment-less kiss on his cheek.

“Steve! I said to keep it  cool .” Jonathan ducked back, placing a hand on Steve’s chest. “I don’t want Will to see us.”

“Your brother?” Steve was surprised; of all people Jonathan explicitly wanted to hide from Will seemed kind and forgiving-- not that there was anything  to  forgive, but it was something Steve often checked for. Steve was sure that one of Dustin’s friends would be… like Steve. Or like Jonathan-- maybe. All of them seemed prepared to deal with any of their friends suddenly being different. Far more prepared than Steve ever was.

“Yes. My brother.” Jonathan snapped, banging the spoon against the edge of the pot. “I don’t want him to learn I’m not dating Nancy but  instead  seeing her ex-boyfriend in the same day.” he whispered.

“Wait, what? He thinks you’re with Nancy?” Steve wasn’t sure where they went wrong. They were trying to  obscure  the truth, not lead everyone to a different reality. “D-Do you think Mike does too?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t want to ask and seem weird.” Jonathan sighed again. He sounded tense again. “I told Will I’d tell him if I was seeing anyone… And he promised me the same.”

Steve knew not to press the obvious question-- well   are  you seeing someone, Jonathan?  -- but also didn’t want to touch the obvious implication that Will  needed  to share a secret with Jonathan. Instead, he placed his hands into his pockets and turned to lean against the counter.

“Dinner smells really good, Byers.” There was another name that began with “B” that Steve wasn’t allowed to use, but always wanted to. Byers Byers Byers. Baby baby baby. “Thank you, again, for cooking for me-- for us.”

“You think I’m going to let you starve?” His stirring slowed; the stove cooled down. He nudged Steve’s arm with the spoon. “You coming home late and trying to cook? You mean half-drinking a beer and falling asleep face down on your bed in your uniform, half unbuttoned.”

“You picture that often, Byers?” Steve lifted an eyebrow. “Hm?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Jonathan’s lips quirked into a smile again. “But, if you’d like a beer, I think there’s one in the fridge. No one in the house is going to touch it.”

“I can go ask Will if he wants it.”

“Shut up-- do you want it or not?”

“No.” Steve didn’t like drinking when they were together. He’d never really heard the full story about where Mr. Byers went, but he had a father of his own to make those blank spaces fill pretty fast. “But thanks. Don’t want the habit of needing a beer to forget how boring my job is.”

“I thought you liked your job?” Jonathan took a piece of pasta out of the pot and held it out for Steve to test.

He chewed and answered. “I do! It’s nice to have normal hours-- and I’m happy to help have replacements as Flo gets ready to retire but… I don’t know. Sometimes it feels  boring .”

“Would you rather be chasing down a four-legged monster without a face?” Jonathan let out a bubble of genuine laughter, playfully glaring at Steve.

“Frankly, yes! At least we’d all have something to do. I feel like I don’t see everyone anymore.”

“Then throw a party. Don’t wish for anything bad to happen.” Jonathan said firmly. “Let the record show my brother is a very strange magnet for all this… weird shit.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Steve said solemnly. He put his hand on Jonathan’s forearm. “I wish we were all safely doing something exciting. It felt nice to be needed, even if no one knew it was us.”

Jonathan put the spoon down on the counter and pivoted to be looking only at Steve. There was something resting just on the tip of his tongue, just under the surface of their conversation. It would’ve been a digression-- Steve could tell by Jonathan’s tense and furrowed brow-- but he would’ve listened.

“Jonathan?” Steve squeezed his arm, lifting his eyebrows. “What is it?”

“I--” He clenched his jaw, trying to swallow his words. “I think--” Steve knew there was no end to Jonathan’s sentence; merely starting it meant there was trust between them. A careful admission through omission. Steve knew Jonathan was looking at his shoes and wouldn’t be seen as he took in the secret flinches of Jonathan’s face. The crinkle by his left eye, the twitch of his mouth, double blinking--

They both jumped apart as the phone started ringing, practically shaking on the wall. Jonathan stepped away from Steve and left everything unsaid. Again.

Jonathan tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder as he turned to lean against the wall.

“Hello? This is--” His face changed sharply, his eyebrows furrowing. “I told you to stop bothering us. You’re lucky she’s not here to pick up the phone-- I don’t  care !” Jonathan cleared his throat and looked at Steve in a flash of uncertainty and anxiety. “I have the police here right now and if you don’t stop calling me I will send them to your house-- it’s not a threat if you’re the one bothering us. Stop. Calling.” He slammed the phone down and braced his weight against the wall with his other hand.

“Am I considered ‘the police’ now?” Steve said lightly. It was his way of letting Jonathan know he was listening, but not asking direct questions. “I’m not even allowed to have a badge.”

“It counts.” Jonathan said, letting his arms fall down by his sides. Steve stepped over and kept stirring dinner.

“Who was that?”

“No one. Can you go get the boys in the other room? Dinner’s ready.” Jonathan pushed Steve aside to hunch over the stove again.

“Sure.” Steve nodded, knowing he wasn’t seen. “Hey! You monsters hungry? Jonathan’s got dinner on the table.”

Dinner felt weird.

Will couldn’t help but feel like he and Mike had gotten into a fight. Talking about his dad made anything feel sticky, feel like it was violent or volatile. A second from snapping or tearing off, bouncing around the walls and echoing in Will's body. A small conversation between friends-- actually a little  understanding  between  best  friends-- felt like it had been a screaming match, all because it was cut off. There was no apology from Will. He didn't have the chance to tie it all up with an  I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, forget I said anything.

His plea sat heavy on his tongue as he talked to Steve-- who had arrived without notice-- and let Mike make him laugh so hard he nearly shot water out his nose. Will let it all happen under the tremor, the ache, of an apology. And maybe, if he was the best brother and friend he should’ve been, no problems or therapy, it would be enough of an apology.

He wasn't hungry and only ate half his serving of pasta, even though it was usually his favorite of Jonathan's recipes. He did apologize for that though, and it felt right to say aloud. Even if it was misdirected and no one heard it.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm so so sorry. Please come back--

Mike wasn’t tired, Will knew, but he still wanted to go to bed right after their horror movie ended. It was clear Mike hadn't been paying attention to the movie; the entire plot was that dreams were a new horror-scape for monsters to get teenagers. It wasn't too scary to Will; it just felt familiar. The villain looked different, more human, but Will knew what it felt like to dream while wide awake. To watch and be unable to do anything but scratch at the surface--

Convincing Will to get ready for bed, Mike said they’d have all day in the morning. He said that maybe he could convince his mom to let him stay over again if they don’t get all their fun in. Will knew Mike's mom probably would, if only because she felt bad for Will. But he would take the pity. A sleepover wasn't the worst thing to get from pity.

Will could still hear Mike fidgeting in his sleeping bag. He was rubbing his feet together like a cricket and twisting his wristwatch. The plastic scratched the sheer material of his sleeping bag rhythmically: back and forth. back and forth. backandforthbackandforth. It was like Mike was counting the ticks of his silent digital watch. Will began to play with his own watch, keeping it on in bed only because he'd noticed Mike hadn't removed it when they were brushing their teeth that night; apparently the watch was too good to part with.

Time though, was something Will wished he could separate himself from. He could hear the seconds scraping by now. Every moment he kept his friend awake and bored because Will was too weak or (rather and) too  everything  to stay up late again.

Therapy hadn’t even been that bad. Not really. Maybe it could be exhausting but it didn’t count because Will sat in the same spot for an hour. It wasn’t real work. It shouldn’t have counted. Will should’ve been able to hang out with his friend until sunrise, getting in trouble with his mom for being up so late. He should’ve still been a stupid, carefree kid, not a by-gone troubled teenager.

Maybe his dad had seen that from the beginning. Will's dad was always gambling, betting on baseball games he had these incredible "feelings" on. Sometimes he was wrong, but when he was right it was an amazing prediction; having the foresight no one else had. And maybe that was what it was, leaving them when he did. Maybe he saw Will wouldn’t be the second son he wanted after all. Maybe he knew of all the damage that would be done to him, the damage he would cause. Probably saw it from miles-- years-- away. And he left without a single warning to any of it.

What if his father had known? Could've known where he was when he came back into town two years ago? Not gone forever just in the lights. Just out of reach, just through the wall, Dad. What if he had known, been able to see, able to know, but wanted to leave Will Down there being possessed and enveloped and consumed and--

Will felt a chill scurry down his back. The feeling almost had legs. Too many. He felt ice cold, his body going blank-- not numb, but  blank -- for a second. He couldn’t feel his fingers, but could still feel every inch of his body, suddenly pulsing and seizing.

"Will?" Mike asked, sitting up. He gripped the end of the bed and pulled his face closer to Will's. He squinted in the darkness, feeling for Will’s hand. Will couldn’t answer, his jaw tense and breath rattling out of him. "Will, what’s wrong?"

After a (thankfully) non-awkward dinner, Steve and Jonathan washed all the dishes and let the boys watch whatever movie they wanted. Steve didn’t pay attention to what tape he put in the VRC. He was too busy thinking about the hands hidden in the warm soapy water in the kitchen sink. Neither Mike nor Will seemed too bothered by the  disgusting  amount of blood or the scary blade man on the TV. He felt no regret letting them go to bed right after the credits rolled. Jonathan had looked exhausted after putting the last dish away, and dozed off during the climax of the movie-- even slept through the high-pitched screaming.

They waited for the sound of Will’s door closing over before they got into bed.

Jonathan flopped onto his back, a pillow resting between his chest and crossed arms. Steve laid on his side, bracing his weight on his elbow. He poked at Jonathan's furrowed eyebrow lightly.

"What's the problem, Byers?"

"Nothing."

"You are not a really great liar, you do know that right?" That and Steve could still hear Robin's blasé recounting of Jonathan's distress.  Yeah. Crying, sniffling, snot-- the whole nine, man.

Jonathan sighed and turned to look at Steve. He hated being called out. "It's about Will."

"What's wrong with Will? He seemed alright at dinner."

"Yeah, but," Another sigh. "Steve, I think my brother’s gay."

Steve's first response was swallowed and he nodded. "Okay. Okay. And, um, what's the issue with that?" He adjusted himself on the bed, hoping there was more subtlety in that.

"I can't talk to him about it. I mean," Jonathan smiled and reached to touch his face. "This is a very different thing than being fourteen and confused."

"Who says he's confused?"

"I don't mean with himself-- the rest of the world is so confusing, Steve. You see the news... I can't talk to him. I didn't grow up like that. And being with you is... Different. We dated girls before. Will... I don't know. I think he knows already."

"You think he's got feelings for--"

"Oh absolutely." Jonathan nodded, closing his eyes. "Oh, I'm so glad it's not just me who sees it."

"Hopefully Wheeler does too."

"Hey, keep your voice down, he's only a few rooms over ."

"Sorry. Sorry. Me and my big mouth " Steve rested his head on Jonathan's shoulder. "Shut me up, maybe."

"Not until my mom gets back." Jonathan said, rolling up onto his side too. "If I catch her when she comes in the door, she won't come into my room to say good night. I can't have you distracting me until then."

"Your mom is on a date. She's an adult and so are you." Steve kissed Jonathan's shoulder. "You are a working man who just finished a long day at work-- I think you can cuddle up with your boyf--" Steve choked on his own stupidity, feeling his face go red and charisma die on impact. "With me."

"I will. Once my mom is back." Jonathan kissed Steve, as if a parting promise. Only to backtrack on his words immediately. He tucked Steve’s hair back behind his ear, his hands trying not to hold his face. “No--  no . Steve, not until my mom gets back.”

“I can keep an ear out--” As Steve spoke, the power in his bedside lamp dimmed. The power hummed quietly before flickering back up. Jonathan tensed and pushed himself up in bed.

“Did you see that?”

“Yeah, it was just the light, Byers. It’s windy out tonight, maybe a tree brushed a powerline.” Steve pushed Jonathan back down to his pillow-- and back into his own skin again. “It’s  nothing  . What if I turn out the light? Your mom won’t even  see  us in here.”

“No. No, I have to wait for her.”

“What if she doesn’t come back?”

“What!” Jonathan jerked upright again.

“I  meant  what if she’s at Hopper’s or something?” Steve shrugged. “She’s an adult.”

“Steve, that’s my  mom .” Jonathan hissed, swatting at the hand resting on his shoulder.

“I  meant  because she drove there on her own. If she had some wine, maybe she stayed somewhere and is being a smart, responsible parent.” Steve soothed. “Something you don’t have to be right now. You’re not Will’s parent and you aren’t your own. Lay down, will you?”

Jonathan was reluctant, but let Steve ease him back down again. He pulled the pillow tighter to his chest and sighed, his crossed arms sinking deeper. Steve laid down beside him, nose gently touching the end of his shoulder. As he breathed, his short exhales tickled Jonathan’s skin and got him giggling. It was Steve’s secret trick; something that always worked because Jonathan didn’t know it was a pattern-- didn’t know he was ticklish.

“Sorry I was weird today.” Jonathan said suddenly. He wasn’t even grinning.

“What?” They didn’t apologize. There was no need. “You’re worried about stuff-- it’s okay.”

“No, I like our dinners. And I was so uptight. I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Okay.” Steve didn’t know what to do with the sentiment. “Apology accepted?”

Jonathan sighed again, blowing it out slowly between his pressed lips. “Lonnie called today.”

“L- your  dad ? Is that who was on the phone?” Steve wasn’t sure what came over him-- or his body-- as he placed an arm over Jonathan’s waist and pulled them together. There was something unspokenly intimate talking about abusive fathers while being nearly sutured together in bed, but Steve pretended he was just having problems hearing Jonathan correctly.

“Yeah.” Jonathan turned, his nose brushing Steve’s. “Said he wants custody of Will. He doesn’t trust Mom, he said.”

“How is he-- He can’t do that.”

“He’s going to try. I don't know where it came from. He still thinks he can win a case because the news says Will just  disappeared into the woods . Like he ran away from us or something.”

“Everyone knows that’s not true.”

“A court might not.” Jonathan sighed, ducking his head down. Steve resisted lifting his chin to hook it over Jonathan’s head, nestling him into his neck. He laid still, listening to his breathing and the gentle creaking of the house--

Jonathan's door was thrown open, both men sitting up quickly, ready to defend themselves and their actions. It was Mike, in his pajamas with his hair sticking out in wild curls. Will stood just behind him in the hallway looking far more awake. Stilted and untousled.

"Mike?"

"Jonathan, quick!"

"What is it?" Jonathan swung his legs around and motioned both boys to come in. "Will?" Mike pushed him into the center of the door frame, although he remained in the hallway, in the light. Will’s hand grabbed at the back of his neck. His face was blank and his eyes were distant.

"Something's wrong." Will said slowly, blinking to focus. "I feel him."

"Feel who?" Jonathan kneeled in front of Will, holding his shoulders. "Feel who, Will?"

"Dad."

[haechanhues]

Drink Me

pairing : niki x gn!reader

genre : bulleted. fluff. a bit of angst. inspired by alice in wonderland,  inside out and filter - jimin (all very loosely) 

warnings : swearing. niki’s character changes concept and/or characteristics (chameleonic).  this doesn’t necessarily have a plot. 

summary : niki drinks a potion that causes him to change every time he drinks. and of course, as his best friend, you are the one to get him out of trouble. always. 

Niki is someone rather quiet 

But he can be rather impulsive 

Which explains why he even drank the potion in the first place 

It would’ve been normal to say he drank it once 

Or had a sip 

But guzzling it down six times was what he did 

Six times because lucky number seven is overrated 

His face screws up at the taste of it 

It’s a mixture of disgusting, sweet and with a little bit of spice 

It has Niki’s head going in circles 

Luckily for Niki, whenever he was always doing reckless things, he had one person that’d always be there for him in the end 

You pick up, a little tired 

‘Yeah?’ 

‘So, I drank a potion...’ 

‘You... drank...a potion?’ 

‘Yeah.’ 

‘Why do you say that so casually?’ 

‘Because it’s already happened...’ 

‘Well, do you feel anything change in you?’ 

‘No.’ 

‘Either it hasn’t happened yet...or nothing happens. Stop drinking potions and giving me heart attacks, Niki. Goodnight.’ 

The next morning you find that things are a little different 

You’re just finished talking to your teacher over assignments and little things you missed during your draft 

You sigh at the sheer amount of them all 

Too many mistakes 

You look at the entrance as Niki struts through the doors, or someone that definitely looks like Niki BUT ISN’T NIKI 

Your eyebrows lift at the oozing confidence this Niki has as he wears his leather jacket you never knew he owned with a lollipop in his mouth 

And this Niki walks right past you and you can’t help the scowl that comes across your face 

He dawdles down the hallway, uncaring of others and you follow him with the same frown on your face 

Your stride breaks almost into a run when you hear the shouts of a few boys and taunting from Niki 

In the doorway you see a boy, Jay have Niki against the wall by the collar 

Niki makes eye contact with you and his smirk widens 

‘Baby’ 

Baby? 

Jay turns towards you with Niki’s collar still in his hands

That fucking idiot 

You walk in front of Niki, pulling Jay’s already softening grip away from the collar before softly putting them by his sides 

Jay stares at you in bewilderment before his eyes narrow as Niki decides to open his mouth 

‘I can take him.’ 

‘No you can’t.’ 

Jay goes to launch himself at Niki, trying to prevent himself from knocking you  

You can’t help the glower at Jay (it’s not truly directed at him either but he’s the sad collateral damage) 

‘Please don’t hit him. Because then I have to hit you back. And trust me, I will whack you....’ 

‘...No matter how hot or scary you are.’ 

Jay’s eyebrows lift as he stares you down in surprise and an increasing feeling of his ego being boosted 

But before he can say anything else, you already have Niki’s jacket in your hand, pulling him down the corridor 

‘Niki.’ 

Jay stares after the two of you, still slightly annoyed and interested 

‘Hey. Who was that?’ 

But with no help he’s left with a want to get to know you. 

The next day you see Niki seemingly back to normal 

But the look he passes over you when you go to check on him is not one of them 

He gives you harsh eyes as you take a look at him through the mirror next to Jungwon who fusses over the little cut you’ve managed to obtain 

Jungwon runs a smooth palm over the plaster before tapping your knee a little 

‘What did your clumsy ass do this time?’ 

Even though he’s currently going through a weird time and you understand him, you can’t help the sad frown that settles on your face 

Jungwon peeps at the tears growing in your eyes before turning to Niki 

‘Niki’ 

He growls 

‘If you’re gonna be a dickhead all session then get the fuck out.’ 

Niki rolls his eyes before storming out 

You lift yourself up from the ground, needing to chase him 

‘You don’t have to chase him, Y/N.’ 

You sigh 

‘Thank you Jungwon,’ 

Before following Niki out of the room. 

Niki has his head on a locker, gripping it in his hands

You hurry worriedly towards him, patting his back 

The next day you find that Niki had already become another 

With his tie not on properly and his uniform unkempt 

You drag him into another classroom, sighing 

Only to be met by the surprised face of Park Sunghoon 

The ‘prince’ of the school so to speak 

‘Who are you?’ 

He says as he looks at Niki who looks down at his nose at Sunghoon 

‘Don’t worry about it.’ 

You waved him off so carelessly that Sunghoon can’t help the surprised expression across his face 

He thought you were quiet and tended to stick to yourself 

You button Niki’s shirt tying it securely 

Whilst you do that his attention is focused on you whilst Sunghoon finds he wants to ease the tension 

He goes to exit the classroom only to be stopped by you 

‘Do you perhaps know how to tie a tie?’ 

‘Perhaps?’ 

He says in an almost teasing tone 

You cast him a dark look which he grins at 

‘Yes, your highness  I do.’ 

Niki watches Sunghoon tie his tie around his neck with stiff shoulders before looking at you with much softer eyes 

‘You are to be my beloved?’

You stare at him 

And Sunghoon’s tries to focus on tying this tie for a boy he doesn’t know to stomp out the pure awkwardness and unnatural language of a teenage boy 

‘My royal beloved, that is?’ 

Niki asks, completely ignoring the boy in front of him. 

Sunghoon was a prince turned into a complete slave by a boy who looks like he barely celebrated his thirteenth birthday. 

You, however, are rendered speechless and currently don’t know how to function 

Sunghoon inhales in satisfaction as he perfects Niki’s tie and steps away

Niki, fortunately returns to normal 

He frowns at the boy in front of him before loosening the tie around his neck slightly 

Sunghoon can’t help the dark look that comes across his face 

‘Thank you Sunghoon. For tying his tie, only for it to become undone. Thank you.’ 

Your sarcastic tilt has Niki apologising to Sunghoon 

‘Prince Niki made an appearance.’ 

Niki screwed his face up before making eye contact with Sunghoon 

‘Who are you anyway?’ 

The ice prince is offended. And he makes no effort to hide how irritated and slightly interested he is. 

Sunghoon finds you both weird 

But he oddly fucks with that 

Which is why he invites you both to his party tomorrow night 

The party has you both drowsy. Throughout the whole night, your hand is clasped in NIki’s hand and you hope you don’t have clammy hands. 

That’s the least of your problems 

Rather than this crush on your best friend you have 

The ‘incoming’ Niki hasn’t happened yet and it freaks the both of you out a little bit 

Niki tries to focus on the fact that since the party has started, you haven’t let his hand go. 

You’re both seated and your fingers are interlocked 

An hour ago you had seen Sunghoon and waved hello. 

That was weird. 

You never thought you’d ever be one of the people he’d acknowledge 

Much rather Niki, who can’t even remember why he’s being acknowledged 

Twenty minutes ago it was even weirder 

Jay had appeared in front of the both of you, giving looks at your hands and even Jungwon had made eyes at them 

‘Wanna drink?’ Jay leaned into you which you denied. 

‘Since when were you two a thing?’ Jungwon asked 

‘We’re not.’ 

Niki can’t help the wolfish grin that appears on his face as he takes a look at Jay 

He doesn’t know where it comes from but he sends a wink his way which has Jay’s eyes narrowing 

He could hold your hand forever 

Unfortunately though, he doesn’t really want to hold your hand while he takes a piss 

So seeing that you’re currently in a conversation with Jungwon, he takes the opening to go and pee as quickly as he can 

(So he can return to you much faster) 

This, however seems to be the moment the new version of Niki appears 

Jake Sim finds Nishimura Riki in the bathroom applying glitter to his face 

‘Sorry man.’ 

‘Don’t worry about it,’ 

Niki waves off any apology with the flick of his hand 

‘That’s sick.’ 

Niki fixes his stare on Jake, ‘I know.’ 

Niki sarcastically welcomes him with the gesture of his hand, focusing on the pretty that adorns his face 

‘Who are you here with?’ 

Niki opens the door slightly, looking down the balcony to see you in the same spot as before with a lemonade in hand. 

He points down at you before smiling slightly, ‘Them.’ 

‘They’re cute’ 

Jake smiles 

‘I know they are.’ 

‘Are you dating?’ Jake says, eyeing at the way Sunghoon is talking to you 

‘Not yet.’ 

‘Are you done with your glitter?’ Jake wonders 

‘Yeah.’ 

‘Cool- cause I gotta take a piss. Like now. Here’s my number.’ 

Jake’s fingers dance across Niki’s phone screen and Niki walks downstairs 

You stop your conversation with Sunghoon as you see Niki with his face prettily covered in glitter and confused as fuck 

Sunghoon turns to meet Niki’s eye and is like, ‘I like the glitter.’ 

The next morning when Niki changes, you don’t necessarily notice he’s changed 

Maybe other people have been suspicious over Niki’s change of character 

But not you 

You’re used to this Niki 

Even the victim, Kim Sunoo is used to it 

So when Niki giggles and pours water over Sunoo’s head and then a bucket of feathers 

You only muse to yourself that Niki has finally brought playful Niki to school 

Sunoo glares at Niki before chasing him down the hall 

‘NISHIMURA RIKI’ 

You can hear Niki cackle as he runs from Sunoo, ‘THAT’S WHAT YOU GET FOR PUTTING A WATERMELON IN MY MAILBOX.’

Sunoo spits out a feather as he yells, ‘HOW IS THAT AS BAD AS THIS?’ 

And so the whole school watches as Sunoo tackles Niki down in an attempt to seriously injure the giggling boy 

Jungwon looks at you confused and with a hint of concern, ‘Shouldn’t you go help Niki?’ 

‘I think it’s deserved,’ You say and turn away, choosing to instead focus on your education. 

Every now and then you can’t help but peek over your book at the commotion 

Sunoo stands up with a huff, stomping down the hallway to make eye contact with you-

‘I hate your boyfriend.’ 

Before he stalks off 

When the bell rings, Niki remains on the floor, resembling a starfish or a snow angel with his legs wide apart and arms extended

When you reach him, he’s giggling with tears in his eyes 

You watch him from above, shaking your head 

‘I don’t know why I’m laughing,’ Niki giggles as he wipes a tear away, ‘What was this Niki like?’ 

‘Exactly like you.’ 

When Niki changes for the final time, it is not you who finds him 

But Sunoo and Heeseung 

Heeseung watches Niki cry on the floor with his head in between his hands whilst Sunoo runs off in search of you 

Heeseung slides down the wall to sit across from the crying younger boy 

‘Hey, you okay Niki?’ 

Now Niki feels sad. But he feels even sadder that the person who caught him blubbering and crying away is a crush of yours 

(A once upon a time crush but Niki doesn’t know that) 

Heeseung squeezes Niki’s shoulder without saying anything else before sliding forward to comfort him. 

Heeseung watches over Niki protectively, only letting his eyes wander when he hears hurried footsteps and finds himself a little speechless when he makes eye contact with you 

‘Hi Y/N.’ 

‘Hey Heeseung,’ You smile before placing your hands on each side of Niki’s face 

‘Look at me-’ 

And Heeseung can only watch your obvious crush on Niki shine 

‘Now what aren’t we going to do?’ 

Heeseung smiles but his eyes widen at the words pulled from your mouths 

‘No more drinking potions.’ 

What? 

author’s note : cinematic parallels but my own writing version : putting jake in the bathroom and heeseung being an old crush of y/n’s. this was just a bit of fun and a little bit of a mess. i love this idea. 

[onecanonlife]

In which Tommy travels back in time and tries to prevent a nightmare from happening to everyone he knows. Everyone else, meanwhile, is highly concerned.

(fic masterpost w/ ao3 links)

(first part) (previous part) (next part)

(word count: 4,756)

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

Part Nine: Tubbo II

Tubbo feels adrift.

It’s not an emotion he does well with, if it’s even an emotion at all and not just a strange, unsettling state of being. By all rights, he shouldn’t be dealing with this at all; it’s not as if there’s not anything to do, not as if he’s not a member of Wilbur’s cabinet and not as if he’s not trying to corral the candidates into productive debates and not as if they haven’t just finished handling Sapnap’s pet-murdering bullshit. It’s not as if he’s not busy. Not as if he doesn’t have purpose. Adrift is not a word that should apply to him.

But then again, it’s not as if he doesn’t know why he feels it.

It’s Tommy.

So many things come back to Tommy, at the end of the day. Normally, it’s not a bad thing. There’s no place he’d rather be than at Tommy’s side. But that’s just it, though, is the problem in a nutshell, because Tommy’s side is a place he finds himself less and less frequently.

Not in a literal sense. Tommy’s still around all the time. Is still around him. Physically, at least. But Tubbo’s known Tommy for years, and that means he knows how to read him, which is why it’s troubling that he doesn’t know how to interpret the look in his eyes half the time, all dark and distant, like he’s miles and miles away, staring at something that Tubbo can’t see. Staring past him, past everyone.

It’s scary, if he’s being honest with himself. And scarier still that Tommy’s trying to hide it, that whenever he tries to so much as hint at something being the matter, Tommy laughs and says something loud and obnoxious and deflects and changes the subject and refuses to tell him anything at all. Which is so fucking wrong. Since when does Tommy keep secrets from him? Since when does Tommy have a secret that he can’t trust him with?

Sometimes, he thinks that he’s imagining it, is making up the whole thing, is getting lost in his head and inventing problems where there are none, just because he has been a little stressed recently, what with everything. But then, he’ll see someone else make a sharp motion, and Tommy will jerk away, face shuttering, and he knows that he’s not inventing any of it.

Because Tommy always tries to play it off, but Tommy reacts that way to lot of things, nowadays.

And Tubbo doesn’t know what to do, because Tommy won’t even tell him what the problem is.

So, he resorts to the only action he can think to take. He goes against one of the only things Tommy has told him, that first night when he started acting off.

He decides to talk to Wilbur about it.

“I think there’s something wrong with Tommy,” he says. Blurts out, more like, no dancing around it at all, but dancing around it would hardly help anyone. It’s certainly not helping Tommy.

From behind his desk, Wilbur puts his pen down, signaling his full attention. The sun shines through the window behind him, late afternoon light casting the office in a gentle glow. Wilbur is backlit against it, painting his features in slight shadow.

“In what way?” Wilbur asks. “Has he said anything to you?”

“No,” he says, “and that’s sort of the issue. He keeps acting weird, but he won’t talk to me about it. He just pretends like, like I’m dumb or something, or that I’m making shit up. But I’m not. And then he keeps on acting weird, and it’s like he doesn’t expect me to notice it.” Wilbur’s staring at him evenly, calmly, and he feels a burst of desperation—he’s not making this up, he’s not, and he doesn’t want Wilbur to believe that he is, to believe that he’s jumping at nothing, to dismiss him. “He keeps saying weird shit, and he flinches sometimes, or he looks at people really strangely, like he thinks they’re—like he thinks they’re ghosts or something. Or like Herobrine incarnate—did you see the way he was glaring at Awesamdude the other day when he came by? It’s—I swear there’s something wrong with him, I’m not even joking. Really, really wrong.”

His own words burn a little in his mouth, and his brain summons up a memory: the dark of night outside, Tommy clinging to him with the fervor of a dying man, the sentence like an exploding firework, far off. You have to stay alive.

As if he thought Tubbo was planning to do anything differently.

It takes a second for Wilbur to speak.

“I’ve noticed,” he says, and the weight in his tone prevents Tubbo from feeling most of the relief the statement provokes. The relief that he’s not alone in this, that someone else has seen what he’s seen. “Since the night he gave up his discs.”

“Yeah,” Tubbo agrees, and then he falls quiet. For a moment, Wilbur doesn’t say anything else either, but then he sighs, leaning forward.

“Tubbo,” he says, in that way of his that means he’s about to make a pronouncement of some sort. Tubbo leans in too, mirroring him. “I will be completely honest with you. I was hoping that whatever’s wrong, Tommy was talking to you about it. Because he’s certainly not talking to me.”

He feels his hopes die in his chest. He hadn’t realized how much he wanted Wilbur to have an easy solution. Or a solution at all. Wilbur always seems to know what to do.

But not, it seems, in this case.

“He’s not,” he says, and now the words just taste sour. “He’s not talking to me. He’s never not talked to me. I don’t know what the hell is going on.”

Something flashes on Wilbur’s face, too quick to process.

“Neither do I,” he says, and grimaces. “I’m not fond of that. I imagine you’re not either. I wish I had an answer for you, Tubbo, but I—I’m worried about pressing him on this. He seems fairly quick to close himself off lately. I’m sure you’ve noticed that as well. And he’s not come to me with anything.”

Tubbo’s certain he’s not mistaking the note of despair in his voice. The words, not like he used to, go unspoken. In a way, it almost makes him feel a little better, that whatever this is, Tommy’s not trusting Wilbur with it, either, not trusting the man who he’s adopted as an older brother, and who has adopted him in turn. Or at least, it would make him feel a little better, if it weren’t so damn worrying.

If Tommy didn’t seem to be caught up in something beyond his understanding, or control.

“So I can only guess,” Wilbur continues after a moment. “I considered the idea that something else happened that night. Something he hasn’t told anyone. The only trouble with that is I don’t know what could have happened that he’d feel like he couldn’t share.” He pauses, and when he goes on again, his voice is softer. “He already gave up his discs. For—for all of us. For L’Manberg. I don’t know what would have been worse than that, for him.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “He didn’t—I mean, he didn’t die. He didn’t die, and no one else did, so I don’t—do you think this could be about the discs, still? I mean, those were important to him. To us. But to him most of all.”

Wilbur’s eyes flash again, and Tubbo notes idly that he doesn’t have his glasses on. He probably should—it strains his eyes to read without them, so Tubbo’s not sure why he wouldn’t be wearing them right now.

“Maybe,” Wilbur says. “Maybe that’s what this is. Though I wouldn’t have wanted him to—Tubbo, you know I wouldn’t have wanted him to, right? Under any circumstances. I never would have asked it of him, and especially not if I knew it would affect him this badly.”

“I know,” he says. He’s a bit surprised Wilbur feels the need to ask, but there’s an odd insistence in the question.

Maybe he’s just stressed. Prime knows they all have been, these past few weeks, and Wilbur most of all. He’s running in an election at the same time as running the actual country, and that’s got to weigh on anyone.

“The way he looks at me sometimes,” Wilbur says softly, shaking his head. “It’s as if—I don’t know. I shouldn’t—sorry, Tubbo, I don’t mean to ramble. You’ve got as much on your plate as any of us.” And Wilbur smiles, but for some reason, it feels fake. Plastered on. Like an expectation, the fulfillment of a role.

“I mean, yeah,” he says, shaking the oddness off. “But stuff about Tommy isn’t stuff that I’ve got to put on my plate, y’know? It’s just—important. Not something to check off a to-do list.”

Wilbur’s gaze softens. “I know,” he agrees. “I feel the same way. He’s my—well. You know.”

“Everyone knows,” he says.

“I can only hope,” Wilbur replies. He glances down at his desk, eyes flitting across his papers, the pen he’s set down, and then back up to Tubbo’s face. “But, Tubbo, if I can be completely frank, I think that out of everyone, you’ve got the best shot at getting him to talk to you. He’s—I mean, he’s your best friend, and you’re his, right? Part of a pair, you are. So even if he won’t—or doesn’t feel like he can talk to the rest of us, he might talk to you.”

“Maybe,” he says. “I haven’t had a lot of luck so far.” He frowns. “You really think he won’t say anything to you?”

He almost regrets the question, because it puts an expression on Wilbur’s face. Not a very nice one, and it’s gone in an instant, but for a second, he looks intensely sad. And between one blink and the next, it’s vanished, sort of like it’s a practiced motion, covering up things like that.

No, he’s reading too much into it. Surely.

They’re all so stressed. He can’t wait for the election to be over.

“I don’t know,” Wilbur says. “I don’t want to count on it. I sort of doubt—and this could all be a moot point, of course. Maybe he just needs more time, and we’re worrying about something that’ll blow over. It’s Tommy, after all. He’s always been so resilient. But that means he’s not going to talk about things until he’s ready to talk. If he truly doesn’t want to, we’re not going to be able to make him. All we’ll succeed in doing is making everyone miserable.”

“What do I do, then?” he demands. “I can’t just not do anything. He’s—you told me you saw it, too. There’s something wrong.”

“I know,” Wilbur says, voice rising. “I know, I’ve been telling you that I know. I don’t like it, Tubbo. I just—” He stops, breathes in, and Tubbo notices that his hands were clenched into fists and are now relaxing, fingers uncurling to rest on the desk’s wooden surface. “We can try to be there for him. Be ready when he comes to us. Let him know that he can, even if he doesn’t want to right now. That’s what we can do, if nothing else. I don’t like it. But we can’t force anything out of him, so that’s the best thing, I think. We be there, as much as he lets us. And when he finally tells us what the problem is, we kill it with fire.”

That last part, he’s on board with.

“Alright,” he says. “I’ll do my best.”

And it occurs to him that he never told Wilbur about what happened that night, when Tommy came to him. In tears, acting so strangely, his voice wavering and wobbling and his whole body shaking like a leaf.

But Tommy told him not to tell Wilbur. He specifically asked him not to, so while bringing his general concerns to him was one thing, sharing that would be another. He’s not willing to break Tommy’s trust like that. Not unless things get truly desperate.

He thinks they’re not quite to that point yet. He hopes they’re not quite to that point yet.

“I know you will,” Wilbur says. “I never doubt you, Tubbo. And I’ll do my best, too. I promise.” He smiles, and it’s not as warm as Wilbur’s smiles once were, he thinks. But it is genuine, if tired, if concerned, if ever so slightly strained. “We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

“Somehow,” he agrees. “Thanks, Wilbur.”

“Of course. You’re always welcome to come talk to me.”

It does make him feel a bit better, talking to Wilbur. Knowing that he’s not alone in his concerns, at least, and the fact that he’s got Wilbur on his side is always reassuring. Wilbur’s like a light in the dark, a bit, the leader that they all look to, and his advice is always sound, always manages to be at least a little bit comforting.

So he tries to take it.

He tries to be there for Tommy, even if it’s difficult, at times, to stop himself from demanding answers, from taking him by the shoulders and shaking him until he admits that there’s something the matter, until he reveals what he can do to help him. Difficult not to react when he flinches, or when he stares at someone like they’re either a miracle or a ghost or something else entirely, or when he disappears without a word of warning only to reappear a few hours later as if he never went anywhere at all.

It’s difficult, but he tries. And sometimes, it’s almost like normal. Sometimes, Tommy grins at him with a gleam in his eyes and a bounce in his step, and they go off to try and rob Sapnap or mess around a little with Ponk’s lemon trees or get back at Fundy for the latest annoying prank. Sometimes, Tommy’s all bluster and confidence and unwavering chaos, and it’s like nothing’s changed at all, even as the elections draw nearer.

Tommy’s been very diligent about those. He even wrote a lot of the regulations, with a seriousness that Tubbo didn’t know what to make of. But the rules have been working so far—everyone’s declared their campaigns, there’s been no unsavory endorsements, no signs yet of voter fraud or other such shenanigans, and everyone running is a citizen of L’Manberg.

Everything ought to be alright.

“Are you alright?” Tommy asks.

They’re fucking around around the base of one of Eret’s new towers. Tommy suggested griefing one, just a bit, as a little prank, but then backtracked the idea, so now they’re just hanging around. Eret’s not even here at the moment, he doesn’t think.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he says. “Just got a lot on my mind, is all. Elections and whatnot.”

Tommy snorts. “Don’t think so hard about it,” he says. “We’ve got this one in the bag. No way we don’t get the popular vote, so long as everyone does it by the book.”

“It’s making sure of that that’s the problem,” he says wryly. “It’s not as if we’ve got an impartial lawyer around here. I’d ask Big Q to help out, but Big Q’s got a vested interest in fucking around with things. At least I can pretend to be neutral. Sort of.”

Tommy makes a noncommittal sound. “You’re doing great, Tubs,” he says. “I’m telling you, this should go right.”

“I’m glad you’re confident,” he says, and squints up at the tower. It’s mostly stone, but nearer to the top, it seems that Eret has gotten a bit more elaborate. Gold glints in the afternoon light, just begging to be stolen. Maybe later, though, and only if Eret wouldn’t be too bothered.

“I’m glad I’ve got something to be confident about,” Tommy mutters, and he turns his head sharply. Tommy isn’t looking at him, is staring off at where the walls are visible, not too far from here. “I worked hard on this, you know. It’s fucking airtight, is what it is. I know what I’m doing.”

“You did a good job with all the rules,” he agrees. “I think Wilbur was impressed with how much thought you put into it.”

Tommy blinks, and then puffs his chest out. “He better damn well be,” he says. “I put so much thought. All of my thoughts, right there. So big and cool. I’m going to write a book of my thoughts, and it will be a bestseller, and everyone will read it and weep, that’s how poggers it will be.”

“They’ll weep, alright,” he says wryly. “Probably from the damage it will do to their eyes. And their brain cells.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Tommy says. “Not my fault you don’t understand genius.”

“Genius is a word,” he says. “You’re right about that. Not sure you know what it means.”

“Why are you the way that you are,” Tommy says, rolling his eyes with great vigor. And then, to Tubbo’s surprise, he grabs his hand. “C’mon, let’s just go—fucking sit somewhere or something, I don’t want to do shit right now. It’s been exhausting, innit?”

He’s on the verge of pointing out that they’ve got a whole place where they normally go and sit, but Tommy doesn’t seem to be thinking about their bench. He leads him a few paces away from the tower and then flops on the grass, laying on his back and staring up at the sky. Tubbo joins him after a moment, situating himself right next to him.

“We’re almost there,” he says after a moment. “We’re almost done with it. Maybe then we’ll be able to get some good sleep.”

Tommy snorts. “It’s never done, on this server,” he mutters. “There’s always something else. There’s always—” He breaks off. “But yeah, you’re right. It should get better, at least. One less thing to try and be thinking about, I suppose.”

It’s on the tip of his tongue to ask what else Tommy is thinking about. What else is on his mind. But the question won’t be welcome, and he’s trying to be open and inviting and supportive, not pushy, no matter how much he wants to be, so he refrains. And Tommy doesn’t say anything else, just lets out a long breath, so for a while, they’re just lying there on the grass, watching the clouds drift by.

It’s peaceful. He can almost forget that there’s so much going on.

And then Tommy speaks up again.

“If I were to get you a baby zombie piglin,” he says, musingly, as if he’s speaking to himself, “would it have to be any particular one? Or do y’think you’d be alright with any? Like, like replacing a goldfish or something?”

And somehow, that’s the breaking point.

“Okay,” he says, sitting bolt upright, “what the fuck?”

“What?” Tommy says. “It’s just a question.”

“No, it’s not,” he—says. He says. He’s not snapping. He’s not angry—but there’s something bubbling up, boiling over, and if it’s not anger, it’s frustration, at the very least. “It’s not just a question. It’s weird. You keep doing this. You say weird shit and you don’t explain any of it, and I’m left trying to figure out what the fuck you’re talking about, and you—you’re not talking to me, Tommy! You’re not telling me anything!”

Tommy sits up too, slowly, eyes wide, but he can’t bring himself to regret the outburst. Though maybe he will later.

“There’s nothing to tell,” Tommy starts, but he shakes his head hard, and the world blurs for a moment.

“That’s bullshit,” he says, and to his embarrassment, his voice cracks. “That is such bullshit. Do you honestly think I can’t tell something’s up? You can say that there’s not all you like, but that doesn’t change what you—you flinch when people get too close. You do weird things. You vanish and then come back without saying where you went, literally ever. You say shit that’s just—that’s just off. And then you try to brush it all off, but you can’t, you can’t brush this off, Tommy. Do you think I’m stupid?”

Tommy is completely, utterly silent. Tubbo tries to meet his gaze, but finds that he can’t, due to the fact that there are tears in his eyes, and everything is swimming.

“I just want to know what’s wrong,” he says, and doesn’t bother trying to disguise his misery. He’s gotten this far. Might as well let it all out. “I want to know what happened to you. I want you to let me help. I want you to tell me things, like you used to.”

“I can’t,” Tommy says, and his voice sounds alarmed, almost pleading, like he’s begging him to drop it. Well, he won’t. If he thinks he will, he’s got another thing coming. He’s let this drop too many times. Enough is enough. It’s time to push. “I can’t—there’s nothing going on, there’s not—not anything that’s a big deal or that you need to worry about, I just—”

“Stop lying,” he says. “Please, stop lying to me.”

Tommy goes quiet again. And that’s setting off all his head’s warning sirens, because Tommy never just goes quiet, but isn’t that just another thing to add to the list? Another response that isn’t as it should be? Mounting evidence that Tommy’s claim of being alright is just a bunch of horseshit?

“It was that night, wasn’t it?” he presses on, and his throat is closing up, but he chokes out the words anyway. It’s sudden, this sensation of being overwhelmed, but he’s powerless to stop it all from hitting. Powerless to keep himself from thinking about how there’s something wrong with Tommy, something wrong with his best friend in all the worlds, and Tommy won’t talk to him. “That night you came to me, and then you gave up the discs. Something else happened. Was it Dream? Did he do something? Or was it before that? Did something happen before you woke me up? Is that why you were crying? You’ve got to tell me, Tommy, please. I’m not letting this go. I shouldn’t have let it go before. I just thought—I thought you’d tell me, when you could, but you haven’t. You’ve been suffering, and I’ve just been watching.”

His voice cracks again. He can’t care.

“No,” Tommy says, almost a whisper. “No, Tubbo, no, that’s not it, there’s not—this isn’t something you can do anything about, Tubbo, that’s all. That’s all it is.”

“Do you not trust me, then?” he asks. “Is that it? Did I do something wrong?”

“No!” This is sharper, louder. “No—fuck, of course you didn’t. You haven’t done anything. You’re fine, Tubbo, it’s all fine, and I’m handling it. I’m doing alright.”

“But you’re not,” he says. “You’re not. You’re not alright.”

He blinks, hard, and the tears clear, finally. Tommy is staring at him, jaw slightly slack.

“I am,” he says, but Tubbo shakes his head again.

“You’re not,” he insists, before he can take that any further. “Why won’t you tell me about it? You know I won’t tell anyone else if you don’t want me to. You know that.”

“I know,” Tommy says. “I do know that, Tubs, c’mon—”

“But then why won’t you—”

“It’ll put you in danger,” Tommy snaps. “I’m not risking you!”

There are so many things he could say to that. Voicing the implication that whatever’s going on, it’s already put Tommy in danger, is high on the list, and it makes him sick to think that maybe Tommy just doesn’t care. Maybe he’s not paying any mind to the danger to himself, even as he worries about everyone else around him. But Tommy won’t listen if he says as much. He can tell already.

So he goes with his gut. Recalls the old conversation, puts together all the glances and the flinches and the stares when he thinks no one else is watching. Draws himself a picture, though he’s sure it’s still incomplete.

“Tommy,” he says, and tries to keep his voice level, steady, “I’m not going to die.”

Tommy’s face crumples like a wet sheet of paper, and there is a long pause.

“You don’t know that,” Tommy finally says, wavering and thready, and Tubbo doesn’t know why Tommy’s so scared, still. He doesn’t know what happened to make him fear this. And maybe he never will, if he can’t coax it out of him. But maybe that’s not so important at the moment, not more important than offering reassurance.

And that, he can do.

“I do know that,” he says. “Look, I’ll swear it right now. I’ll swear it on—L’Manberg itself. I’m not going to die.”

Tommy’s eyes go very pinched and squinty, and he bites down on his bottom lip, hard. Tubbo knows that look, so he extends his arms and tugs Tommy into him, into a hug, so that Tommy can cry without him seeing. He almost expects the embrace to be rejected, but after a moment of stiffness, Tommy melts against him, tucking his chin on his shoulder.

“You gotta have a little more faith in my abilities, man,” he says, aiming for some levity. “I’m not so easy to kill.”

“I do have faith in you, Tubbo,” Tommy mumbles.

“Then let me help,” he says, and decides that a compromise is in order. “Look, you don’t even have to tell me everything. Or anything. But if there’s something I can do, let me do it. Let me help you. Whatever’s going on, you don’t have to be on your own. You don’t have to handle it by yourself or whatever stupid bullshit you’ve been on about.”

“It’s not as easy as that,” Tommy says, still barely discernible.

“I think it could be,” he replies. “I think you’re overthinking it.” He holds Tommy a bit tighter. “And really, I’m not gonna die, big man. And even if I did, you wouldn’t be rid of me that easily. I’d come back as a ghost and haunt you for eternity. Move your shit around when you’re not looking.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Tommy whispers, “and I don’t know why.”

Okay, that’s—okay. He’s not going to mess up the progress he’s made, even though he’d dearly love to comment on whatever the fuck that means.

“Alright, then,” he says, “but are you hearing me? Can you do that? Let me in, just a little bit? ‘Cause I mean, really. You’ve got to be able to trust me to look after myself. I appreciate you trying to protect me or whatever you’re doing, but not if you’re hurting yourself doing it. And not if you’re being stupid about it. ‘Cause I’m not some fragile fucking flower, you know? So can you? Let me help?”

Tommy shifts a bit, but doesn’t attempt to pull back, so Tubbo takes that as permission to keep holding him.

“Okay,” Tommy says, after a minute, voice small. “Okay, I’ll—I still can’t, I can’t tell you much, but I’ll try. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you think that I—that I didn’t trust you or some shit, that’s not it at all—”

He sounds increasingly distressed, so Tubbo cuts in.

“That’s fine,” he says. “We’re okay. Just don’t shut me out, alright? Whatever I can do, let me do it. That’ll be enough for now.”

Whether it will always be enough is another question. But, baby steps. Baby steps.

“Okay,” Tommy says. “Alright. I’ll try.”

He’s still crying. Tubbo doesn’t comment on it. Not even when Tommy finally pulls back, and his eyes are red-rimmed, avoiding his gaze. Not even when they go back to L’Manberg together, Tommy staring straight ahead except for when he’s not, except for when he casts little glances over to him, as if to check that he’s still there.

Tubbo’s gotten more questions than answers out of this. But he’s also gotten a promise.

He’ll hold him to his word. And he’ll make a private promise of his own.

He won’t die. And Tommy won’t either. They’re both going to come out the other side, and everything really will be alright again.

[unmaskedagain]

Marinette: Stone Cold

Ok so i love this prompt but it took forever to get to. And as soon as I did its like suddenly I was swamped with everything. So frustrating. But I finally finished it. And I love it. @vixen-uchiha​

              Marinette was six-years-old when her parents died in a car crash. She had been at school when the vice principle, Mrs. Valmontes, stopped by and pulled her out of class. The little black haired girl had known something was wrong instantly as Valmontes had smiled just a little hard at her and much more gently than what she was known for.

           Still, she had been really surprised to see Office Raincomprix, her classmate Sabrina’s dad, waiting for her in the principle. Marinette always thought he was really nice; always jolly and quick to lend a hand to the teacher at the end of the day if he got to class early to pick up Sabrina. However, he too, seemed rather despondent when Marinette entered the room. His partner, a rookie named Lorna, looked really sad too.

           They took her down to the station where she was led to one of the back offices. Sabrina’s dad waited with her there. And then woman name Susanna LeFlont, who Marinette would later learn was a grief counselor. Then they told her.

           Susanna held her as she cried and begged and called them liars, until she couldn’t cry anymore. And then they gave her a stuffed animal, and said they would try calling her relatives to pick her up.

           They came back an hour later, saying they got ahold of her parents’ emergency contact…

           Marinette’s Uncle Jareth Dupain.

           She had frowned when they said his name because to her he had never been Jareth Dupain. No, he was always her cool Uncle Jagged. So it took her a second to remember that his real name was Jareth Dupain-Stone, her father’s younger half-brother. Marinette even briefly remember her dad mentioning having to change their emergency contact after his mom, Gina, passed away a few ago.

           He was only 20 when Marinette born and he was always a budding Rockstar so he wasn’t around too much. And 6 years later he was the biggest rockstar in the world. Still, that didn’t stop him from rushing to the police station, Penny hot on his trail, and pulled his sweet niece into the biggest hug he could.

           Jagged took his niece to the hotel room to get her settled and had Penny go back to the bakery to get some of her things. He didn’t think it was a smart idea to take her there yet; not when the wounds were still so fresh.

           Still as the twenty-six year old Rockstar stared at the small form cuddled up to Fang, he realized for the first time that he was all Marinette had in the world; the only family she had left. The only family he had left.

           So he knew, despite the lawyers taking days to contact him regarding who Marinette’s guardian would be, that it was him. Jagged was the person Tom had entrusted to protect and watch the most precious thing he had the entire world; his daughter. And he wouldn’t let his brother down.

Tom had always been the best big brother anyone could have. And when Jagged’s own father, Tom’s Stepfather (as tom’s own father had suffered a heartache when Tom was a teen), had walked out, Tom had stepped up. He showed Jagged, who was still called Jareth at the time, how to be a man. He believed in Jagged’s rockstar dream when Jagged didn’t even believe in them himself.

Jagged would do right Tom, by Sabine; he would do what they would do if the situation was reversed and they were given Jagged’s kid to care for.

He would raise Marinette as he own. And though he knew would never come close to being the father that Tom Dupain had been…

Jagged would damn well try to be.

…

…

Jagged Stone, Shattered Roses, Nightmare’s Hail Mary, Unmasked Dragon, True Born Rejects, and Emancipated Mirrors were some of the biggest rock band in the world. Whenever, they went on tour together, they were the epitome of what people thought Rock Stars were. They were loud. They partied all night. Groupies hung around everywhere. To them, it was paradise. When all the bands were invited to go on the Kings of Neverland tour, with Jagged Stone headlining, they expected very much the same as they were used to. Jagged always had the most Rockin tour bus. His parties were legendary. They came to expect it.

However, when Neon Savage (front man of the Shattered Roses), Austin Knight (Leader of Unmasked dragon and lead Guitarist), and Niklaus Bane (Lead vocalist of True Born Rejects) showed up with beers and all other sorts of alcohol the day before their opening concert for the tour, they came across something very unexpected.

Or rather someone.

A little Asian girl with pigtails in her Blue hair, a tiara on her head, in a rainbow tutu paired with a black too large Guns N Roses shirt, her hand on her hips, no shoes, and a rather large crocodile next to her.

“What’s with the ballerina?” Austin asked. He had dyed silver hair done in a stereotypical emo style, grey eyes, and too many piercings. He was slim and tall.

           Niklaus sighed in relief, “Oh good, you see her too!” He had curly blond hair, dark brown eyes, and wore mostly black. He had ripped jeans and a red tie. The tie was as red as the whites of his looked. “Why is your hair blue?”

“Because Uncle said I could,” She answered and pointed a figure at them, “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Savage scoffed, “You got that twisted, kid.” He was a bulk guy, with long dark hair, and a severe expression on his face. His arms were covered in tattoos. He played in a metal band, and it was obvious. “Where’s your mommy?”

“Dead,” The little girl said bluntly. “I live with my Uncle Jagged now. This his tour bus, and you’re not supposed to be here.” She glared at them. “Fang, Stranger Danger!”

           What happened next was a bit of a blur. One minute they were fine, the next they were being chased around Jagged’s tour bus by a rather vicious crocodile while pint-sized twerp laughed.

           Lucky for them, their yells for help were overheard by Penny and Jagged who had been working in back, “What’s going on?” Penny asked as she ran in.

“Mates, what the h. e. double hockey sticks is going on?” Jagged asked right on his assistant’s tail.

           Austin, who had jumped on top one of the shelves, gave Jagged a confused look, “Better question; what the hell did you just say?”

“Ooohhhh! There’s five bucks for the swear jar!” The little girl taunted.

           Jagged glared at rockstar, “Watch it! A Kid’s in the room!”

           Savage glared at his longtime friend, “Who the fuck do you think set Fang on us?!” He cast a dark look at the crocodile. “Stranger danger my ass! I’ve known you sent you hatched, you overgrown cheap pair of boots.”

“That’s ten buck for the swear jar!” The girl said.

“Ten bucks?” Austin frowned. “Kinda of steep for just two swear words.”

“I swear to God-” Savage growled but was cut off.

“Chill, mate,” Jagged said. “This is my niece Marinette.” He gave her a loving smile. She beamed up at him brightly. He had been taking care of her for a year now. “I told ya about her.”

“You didn’t say she was Satan!” Austin whined. Fang had bitten him, the slowest of the three, quite a lot, and he had a giant hole in his jacket.

“I’m not Satan,” Marinette huffed. “I’m a ballerina, princess, Rockstar on my way to a tea party with Duchess Rosy Sparkles, of the Unicorn Fairies. And guess what, you’re not invited!”

“Oh that’s just mean,” Niklaus complained.

“She sicked a mini dinosaur on us,” Savaged hissed.

“Yeah, well, now she hurt my feelings.”

           Jagged sighed. The guys were some of his closest friends, and by the look up the “entertainment” they brought, they were ready to raze it up like always. But things had changed. Jagged couldn’t be that guy anymore. “Marinette’s staying with me from now on,” He reminded them. “No parties on the tour. She has a bedtime. And doesn’t need to see “us” at our finest, no matter how Rockin we are.” Jagged shrugged. “Spread the world, my bus is off limits.”

The rock stars grumbled a bit but didn’t leave. They could hang with Jagged without presence of booze, weed, loud music, and groupies. It would be a little weird but they’d managed. Jagged was their friend; they’d known him before any of them became famous and stayed close well after. They hadn’t been there for him as much as they wanted to after Tom died; too many commitments, too many required appearances in different countries that had taken them away. But they were there now. And if being there for one of their best friends meant regularly chilling with a six-year-old, then they’d deal.

Savage grunted, “Austin, get rid of the booze.”

“By ‘get rid of’, I assume you meant put back in my tour bus,” The silver haired guitarist corrected.

           Niklaus raised his hand like he was a student in class, “I get the whole no alcohol thing; that stuff will kill ya. But what your feelings on pot?”

           Jagged just sighed. It was going to be a long summer.

           The three musician, and even the other Rockers on tour, slowly but surely got used to the seemingly near constant presence of a six-year-old around Jagged or running around backstage. And the swear jar was a serious thing. It didn’t count when they were singing on stage but off it and anywhere near Marinette and they found themselves forking over five dollars for ever swear word. It added up a lot. And quickly.

           Jagged’s tour bus, instead of being the Party palace it used to be, now was the chill zone. It was also the cleanest of all the tour buses. No empty beer bottles everywhere. No one random passed out anywhere. No having to watch out for throw up. No rabid fans, as Jagged had increased his security to Tony Stark worthy levels.

           All they had to do was mind their manners and remember that Marinette was very impressionable at her age.

“OH screw you!!!!!!” Savage roared as he jumped up and frantically mashed buttons on his controller. “I’m not losing!”

           They had been babysitting Marinette all day while Jagged did an interview Buzzfeed.

           Austin snickered, “Says you.” His character raced past Savage’s. Only for something to hit him and send poor little Yoshi spinning out of control. “Did you- did you just blue shell me, bitch?” He hissed at Niklaus.

“Nooo!” Niklaus said sarcastically. “Hey!!! Not nice, brat!” He told Marinette after a banana caused him to slip off the ice.

           Marinette smiled easily, but there was a determined look in her eyes. Her hair was jelled into a faux-hawk courtesy of Ashley Crimson, from lead singer for Emancipated Mirrors, an all-girl punk rock band.

“Die, scumbag!” Ashley roared as her racer zoomed by. She was a vivacious redhead. Her and her bandmates got used to being some of the only girls around that weren’t either working for one of the rock stars or were scantily clad fangirls who do “anything” to get backstage.

“You’re going down, twerp!” Savage told Marinette.

“Bite me!” She snapped back just as Jagged and Penny walked into the tour bus.

           Jagged crossed his arms, “What did you morons do to my sweet little niece?”

“Nothing!” Niklaus, Ashley, Savage, and Austin chimed together.

“Savage taught me to throw a punch, and or kill a man.” Marinette smiled happily. “I helped Austin set up a glitter bomb in Nightmare’s Hail Mary tour bus. Niklaus and I are banned from Chuckie Cheese. Ashley and I spray painted her ex boyfriend’s car. Cleo and I got arrested. We disturbed the peace!!” Cleo was a pink haired girl who played drummer from Nightmare’s Hail Mary. She had to rush off for her own interview. “Oh and we’ve only been Playing Mario kart for an hour but they each owe like a hundred bucks to the swear jar.”

           There was silence as the words were processed.

“And not one of us taught her how to keep a freaking secret?” Ashley face palmed.

           Jagged just sighed.

…

…

           For the next few years that was Marinette’s life. Austin, Niklaus, Savage and Ashley became pseudo Uncles and Aunt to Marinette.

She spent most of her childhood on tour with her Uncle; going from to place, concert after concert. Marinette was homeschooled and didn’t mind it. Jagged went on tour with a bunch of different people over the years and she got to meet all sorts musicians; Clara Nightingale, Ed Sheeran, Adam Levine, Brendon Urie from Panic! At the Disco, Taylor Swift. Her favorite were the award shows though. Through them, she got to meet all her favorite actors. And was inspired to start designing on her own clothes after seeing so many fabulous looks. She got to model and do some acting. In her free time, she ran a very popular fashion blog/youtube channel.

The press had always loved her. To them, she was Marinette Stone (Jagged didn’t want her real name released to the media). She was always on the best dressed list, frequently seen with various celebrities, and could be found on the cover of various magazine.

However, when Marinette was eleven, she begged her Uncle to let her go to school with other kids. She was getting older and she wanted to have some type of normal childhood. It took him a year to agree. Her uncle Jagged had become quite protective over the years.

So Marinette went back to Paris. She cut her hair, used her given name of Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Her Uncle bought a grand penthouse not too far away from her new school, and whenever he was gone her bodyguard, a sweet woman named Harlow who was former CIA, was in charge of her. She started at her new school with a smile on her face.

Not long after, she became the hero Ladybug.

Everything was great. She had friends, a normal social life, went to school with other kids her age. She wasn’t constantly being followed around by paparazzi. She still ran her fashion blog and had frequently updates. It was perfect.

It took two years for it to go bust.

The reason’s name was Lila Rossi.

And she was the biggest liar Marinette had ever met. And Marinette had grown up in the entertainment industry.

Lila made wild claims that the other kids just ate up. A simple google search could refute all of them. The ones Marinette could stand was always about Jagged. Like her Uncle, or an airline, would be reckless enough to let a kid race on to an airport to save a cat; not that Jagged had ever own one. Fang was territorial.

Lila made her out to be a bully, and slowly Marinette lost all her friends. Her only one left was Adrien, her partner Chat Noir. The blond and Marinette had modeled together a few times and he had recognized Marinette despite her new looked but he kept it a secret. Because of their history, Marinette developed a crush on the other and Adrien was quick to lose his crush on Ladybug once he found out it was his dear friend behind the mask.

When Marinette was exiled to the back, Adrien was quick to join her (much to Lila’s fury) and nothing could change his mind. Mostly because he was sick of Lila always touching him despite his vocal protests, and Bustier not doing anything about it.

Soon Marinette things started being messed up or destroyed; her homework, her sketchbooks and pencils, her jacket. She was tripped and called rude names. Her cellphone, (Well one of her phones. She had two; one she used as Marinette Stone. One for Marinette Dupain-Cheng; a number only her classmates had.) was filled with mean texts.

Bustier caved to demands and had her excluded from class trips and events due to being a negative influence; again Adrien decided not to go either, and Lila was Akumatized once he said this. Marinette hadn’t been surprised. Bustier always ignored the bullying and harassment clearly happening in front of her. Still, Marinette decided to start recording her classes a hidden camera on her desk, on the corner of the celling and even on top of the whiteboard behind Bustier. It was just in case anything took a serious turn.

Still losing all her friends because of a few promises and dreams of glitz and glamour had been a wakeup call. Her Uncle had warned her. Her Aunt Penny, who Jagged had married with Marinette was ten, had warned her. So did Savage, Ashley, Cleo, Austin, Clara, and Niklaus. They told Marinette to watch out for fake friends and gold diggers, coattail clingers and desperate wannabes; people who would sell out every secret she had to the paparazzi behind her back just for five minutes in the spot light. So called friends who would do anything to get ahead, to get famous.

And it was clear that’s who most of her ex-friends were. Even Lila learned the hard way. When she told Alya about her mom meeting with some important celebrity about their Go Green initiative, this wasn’t a lie as it would turn out. However, the glasses-wearing girl posted it online, despite Lila legitimately asking her to keep it a secret. Lila got in big trouble with her mom apparently.

The teacher, Bustier, was awful but she always had been. Marinette ignored it in the past because at least she had her friends. But if that witch told Marinette to be a better example one more time, it was over.

           Everything came to a head after Marinette got expelled, granted she was brought back after evidence that it was impossible for her to have cheated surfaced, and the bluenette decided enough was enough. She finally gave in and told her Uncle everything.

           Jagged was pissed. He cursed up a storm; enough to fill the swear jar ten times over and buy Marinette a car.

           It took a while to get him to calm down. And to convince him that Marinette could handle it. She had a plan.

           Still, she remembered that Uncle was a wild card.

           Friday, during lunch, Marinette was eating in the cafeteria, when suddenly the lunchroom doors burst open, “Marinette,” Jagged called as he entered, trailed by a happy Penny and bodyguards “Where’s my favorite little fashion designer?”

           Marinette just sighed.

Adrien smirked at her; looking way too amused. The jerk must’ve known. She had thought it was strange that he wanted to eat in the cafeteria. The two rarely ate on the school grounds, opting and preferring to go to local restaurants rather than deal with terrible food and pesky classmates. Still Marinette didn’t mind as long as they away from her classmates. And they did.

Kagami, Aurore, and Claude gave her perplexed looks.

           The students in the cafeteria went wild. Girls and guys screamed, and tried to get pictures. Jagged ignored them and went straight to Marinette’s table, walking passed where Bustier’s student at lunch. Alya shook Lila’s shoulder and pointed at Jagged, and loudly asked if Lila could get her an interview. Lila looked horrified.

Jagged beamed when he reached Marinette, “There you are, you’ve been ignoring my texts,” He accused. Which to be fair, Marinette had been. Her Uncle had been coming up with way too many revenge plots to be healthy. “I decided I need a new look for the VMAs; something rockin, something tasteful, something to show remind the world the amazingness that the Rock Gods have blessed them with.”

“I’m at school,” Marinette told him.

           He smirked, “Then Learn to answer a text,” The Rock star shrugged. “But fine; we can talk later. How about at my concert, yeah. You and your friends” he motioned to the kids at Marinette’s table, “Can have backstage passes. We’ll talk then. But I really want you to wow me. Maybe get a matching hat for Fang too.”

“Fang?” Adrien asked innocently. Still Marinette could practically hear see the script he was reading off of.  “Is that your cat?”

           Jagged gasped as if insulted, “Cat? Do you think I’d ever own anything as ordinary as a cat? Me? Jagged Stone?! I should be insulted, mate. I hate cats, always have. Never owned one, never will. Fang’s a crocodile. Marinette’s knows. Fang loves her.”

“That is strange,” Kagami shot Marinette a smirk which caused Marinette to nearly hiss at the betrayal. Kagami knew too?! “Lila said you did.”

“Lila?” Jagged asked. “Who’s Lila? I don’t know a Lila.”

“Lila Rossi?” Aurore offered. “The Ladyblog practically swears in an interview that Lila Rossi saved your cat from being hit by a plane or something.”

           Jagged scoffed, “What a loud of bull! Any journalist that believes that is not worth the pen they write with.” Gasps were heard. “But I heard that rumor. Didn’t know where it was from. Thanks for letting me know who I should sue. This Ladyblog and Lila Rossi will be hearing from my lawyers.”

           It was a photo finish as to who fainted first; Alya or Lila.

           Lila went home right after that. This caused the reactions of the class to be split. Half the class still defended Lila; refusing to believe their golden ticket was lying. The other half was ready to burn her at the stake; they had carried her books, done her homework, wrote her notes, nearly everything for her.

           Marinette just sat back and watched with amused eyes. If they thought this was bad, they hadn’t seen anything yet.

           That weekend Marinette Stone released a video on her blog about bullying. She had been mentioning her own trouble with bullying for months and people had asked her for more information.

           The title of the video was:

           Bullying Stone: The Expose

           In it Marinette revealed that at her school she went by Marinette Dupain-Cheng, her real name, and had a new look. She told about how much she liked school at first. And they what changed; that it all started when a new girl arrived and started telling lies about celebrities about Marinette. She told the story of how she was expelled; and just how many procedures were broken when it happened.

           Marinette used the recordings she had of class, and even showed up the horrible texts she got.

“As you can see the teacher does nothing,” Marinette frowned. “It’s all happening right in front of her and she does nothing. In the next video, you’ll see someone being sexually harassed, in front of the teacher and she doing nothing about it. And then what victim blaming looks like. Again, as a reminder, all these videos and pictures are unedited.” She had offered to blur Adrien’s face but he declined, and even appeared in the video too and talked about his own experience.

           At the end of the video, Marinette looked straight at the camera, “Anyone can be bullied; famous or otherwise. If you’re being bullied; speak up. Tell your parents, your Aunts, your Uncles, your siblings, your cousins, teachers who you know will actually do something about it. I waited too long to tell someone. I regret that. They thought what they were doing was hurting me.  They thought I’d be miserable without them. They thought I’d cry and break and come crawling back to them. They thought wrong. You can bully Stone but it takes a hell of a lot more than that to break it.”

           The video went viral in an hour. And people were angry. The people who knew Marinette and loved her were beyond furious. Jagged, even more so, as he hadn’t seen the videos before, read the texts.

           Marinette Stone’s phone blew up with texts and calls. She was tweeted and retweeted thousands of times. And she got far too many, ‘You want me to kick their asses for you. I can kick their asses for you,” texts. But she had known she’d get them.

           The Ladyblog was ripped for lies by celebrities who been lied about on site and fans.

           Gabriel Agreste, Adrien told her, was pissed about what had been happening to Adrien, in front of a teacher no less. Lila Rossi fired. And if Lila ever had dreams about working in the fashion industry, they were over.

           Savage, after berating her for not kicking Lila’s ass, told her he and the gang (Austin, Cleo, Ashley, and And Niklaus) was coming over for some Mario Kart and artery clogging fast food.

           When the call disconnect, Marinette got a text from him.

Why did you sic Fang on them?

And that’s a five for the swear jar!

           Marinette couldn’t stop laughing.    

[popculturebuffet]

Uncle Scrooge by Don Rosa:  The Isle at the Edge of Time (Thank You Comission For Rosie Isla)

Hello all you happy people! Today’s review is a bit special as it’s the result of another review. See I had trouble finding a translation of the subject of last weeks’ mother’s day special, Family Ties. 

No not that one. I have Paramount+. I can watch all the Family Ties I want and that’s a fact that i’m pleased as punch about. 

No it was the story 80 is Prachtig, called Family Ties in the copy used, Della’s first major comics appearance and one that explains what happened to her in the classic continuity, one that clearly served as the foundation for her far more fleshed out 2017 versions personality and backstory. It also had Pinocchio in it for some reason, and spent most of it’s large run time on a meta comedy plot that had nothing to do with the reason anyone wanted to read this story in the first place.

But despite being a vitally important story, it never got an english translation, something that baffled me till I read the story and found cameos of the racist indigenous stereotypes from Peter Pan. In 2014. You may commence booing. Even with how weird the story was I simply couldn’t find the story googling it and the Della tag is too vast and deep to go spelunking in.

So what’s all this have to do? Simple I put out a post last month when neither I nor Kev, who wanted to comission it as part of Moons, Millionares and Mothers, my coverage of all three season 2 Ducktales story arcs, could find a copy and offered a review to whoever found it.  Weeks passed I got nothing.. then in the 11th hour I got a break as the lovely @rosieisla​ found a translation that was on this very site, one she seemed to have helped with. As a result I could do the review and as a man of my word, offered it up despite her clearly having not seen that part of the post and simply having done this to be nice. Still she gladly took up the offer and offered me my pick of two stories: The Carl Barks Story Back to Long Ago or this one. 

As for WHY I picked this one Back To Long Ago didn’t seem bad, i’m just not a fan of “The Cast is put in the past as their own ancestors” type deals. Or in some cases put the cast as people from that time period. It’s just not for me and is most often done in TV where it can get really goofy, Beverly Hills 90210 being a prime example of this, though Girl Meets World was no slouch in being embarassing... that being said I really need to finish that show and miss it. 

So yeah when put up against a story with two intresting hooks and FLINTHEART GLOMGOLD, even if i’ts not the version that’s my boy, it was no contest. So what are these hooks you ask? Well join me under the cut and find out. 

We open with a weird stylistic choice: This story has a narrator complete with caption boxes. Now for those of you familiar with comics or pastiches of comics in tv and film, this probably dosen’t seem like a big deal. It was a common thing in comics from their inception to 90′s to have caption boxes, big boxes of text narrating the action to help move things along faster. It did start to fade out by the 80′s and was gone by the end of the 90′s for the most part, replaced instead with first person narration. It’s the kind of thing you’d see most often in the Golden and Silver Ages, with stuff like tihs

It’s not a BAD device, it’s good old cheesy and bombastic fun and some writers did get clever with it.. like that time Chris Claremont used the narration to yell at a greiving cyclops after he lost a teammate early in his long and storied run on the uncanny x-men. 

This is a objectively weird scene that’s still somehow effective by the by. On the one hand it does come off as Chris Claremont essentally bullying Cyclops who already feels guilty for a death that was not in fact his fault as Thunderbird was told the plane he was attacking with fleeing villian Count Nefaria was about to explode and refused to listen.. and that they needed to get rid of either him or Wolverine as both served the same purpose and chose the non-white guy. 

On the other htough it comes off just as much as Scott beating himself up in his grief and anger over the event and his perceived failings as a leader. It’s good stuff and shows why this run caught on as this was only three issues in. Also the rest of the issue features the X-Men fighting a giant cyclopian demon that Cyclops accidently freed in his rage by destroying the stone thing keeping him imprisoned. No really here’s the cover

Huh so tha’ts what Nifty’s dad looks like. Neat. Also I REALLY hope we get the X-Men fighting aliens or demons in the MCU. Unlike the XCU the MCU isn’t alergic to getting batshit.. and for the record Deadpool and New Mutants are the exception, not the rule.

My point that I swear I do have is that this was common practice for most comics.. but never really for Disney Duck comics. It popped up ocasionally, like with Scrooge’s introduction, but Barks and those after him never really used them that much. Sure they’d have caption boxes for flasbacks and what not but Barks and Co geninely only used this sort of thing to set up a story. The most i’ve seen it in a duck comic is life and times and even then i’ts usually only used for gags or to set up the passage of time, as the story IS covering decades and thus often needed to have montages to show time passing, and in the case of chapter 11, had to cover decades in the span of a single chapter, so it’s not like they had many other options. So even Rosa as a personal quirk didn’t really use these often. 

Rosa used this specifically because he felt the plot was complicated by the use of the international date line. As for what it is, it’s essentially a line marking calender dates from one side of the hemisphere to the others. To use the offical defentition from the National Ocean Service I found via a quick google:

“The International Date Line, established in 1884, passes through the mid-Pacific Ocean and roughly follows a 180 degrees longitude north-south line on the Earth. It is located halfway round the world from the prime meridian—the zero degrees longitude established in Greenwich, England, in 1852.

The International Date Line functions as a “line of demarcation” separating two consecutive calendar dates. When you cross the date line, you become a time traveler of sorts! Cross to the west and it’s one day later; cross back and you’ve “gone back in time."

Despite its name, the International Date Line has no legal international status and countries are free to choose the dates that they observe. While the date line generally runs north to south from pole to pole, it zigzags around political borders such as eastern Russia and Alaska’s Aleutian Islands.”

Rosa felt this made the story complicated.... and that... really isn’t remotely true. The narration is mostly used for gagas and really dosen’t clarify anything. it’s mostly used well in the opening.. but the actual explinations for the date line are clear enough in the story that even if I hadn’t looked the thing up, I still would’ve got it and i’m sure a kid would’ve too. It just feels like a weird thing to ruminate on, especially because he’s got actual things to make up for: while to his credit the native american characters he cribbed from carl barks are sympathetic, their culture respected and treated decently and used for a green aseop, their dialouge is stitled and sterotypical something he dosen’t even comment on (And these trades ewren’t THAT long ago) 

And of course it dosen’t help that he dosen’t even comment on using a common device in american superhero boooks.. in the same volume where he ONCE again makes an unwanted and outdated diatribe about superhero comics. I’ll probably cover the Super Snooper Strikes again so I can throughly tear this apart but higlights include: Calling superhero comics “Unwanted” just because he dosen’t like them personally, when people like me would disagree and they’ve lasted through a LOT of highs and lows, outdately saying they took over the American market as the only suitable comics which while true for a TIME,but by 2015 when this book was printed is laughably out of date, as non superhero works like The Walking Dead, Saga, and Scott Pilgrim were massively popular, one of my faviorite comics that is entirely slice of life and would go on to bea huge hit, Giant Days, re-debuted that very year. He also has the fucking gal to insult The Uncanny X-Men by name and I swear to god I did not know this when I made those references earlier, but as you probably guessed REALLY god me livid. 

And this is just on his COMMENTS on the story I can’t imagine just how bad the content itself is and having read the first few pages which come off as Rosa using Donald to essentially do an “old man yells at cloud rant” about superhero comics, I really don’t want to. Might make htis a patreon exclusive or again would do it on comissoin. You all make the call.... the point is I don’t likes his elitist bullshit about superhero comics, and this is clearly something that gets my hackles up as I just spent a good two paragraphs of an entirely unrealted review yelling at the guy for it. I don’t like when he does this and this authors notes entirley felt like an excuse. I GET the dark age of comics were bad, they REALLY were that bad, but I will NEVER accept painting an enitre genre as bad just because one work in it is bad. And I wont accept it from someone who himself writes about an often throughly unlikeable anti-hero for a living.  Scrooge may not have a gun on his gun on his gun or get to stabbing or have pouches, but he DOES finacially abuse his nephew, scoff at people’s personal troubles, and often refuse to use his wealth to help others in general. So yeah in conclusion Rosa really needs to say less about this subject. 

Okay so where were we.. right the story hadn’t even started yet. Jesus. 

Okay so our story begins with the narrator. Whose going on about time and what not. The main point of this speech about time is that it’s night in Duckburg and Scrooge is going to bed as, even being the workhorse that he is, he can’t keep going 24 hours. While he’s snoozing though something major happens and it’s the hook that made me pick this story along with the international dateline one.. an island rises thanks to volcanic erruption.. and the lava is GOLD. That’s just pure unabashed classic Duck Stuff: a mysterious treasure or phenominon of gold bound to bring scrooge in. 

But Scrooge isn’t stupid: the sun comes up and the world still spins while he sleeps, so he set up a satalite to monitor for this sort of thing. The thing naturally goes nuts.. and even more naturally breaks down becasue Scrooge bought cheap parts. A nice gag and a fully in character way to bring our antagonist into the picture, as the Satellite of Loaded falls in the middle of South Africa... right on the property of my boy Flintheart Glomgold. 

This is something Rosa brought up in his commentary for the story i’d never thought about. It turns out Glomgold being a citzen of Duckburg WASN’T an invention of the original Ducktales but the comics: some overseas had understandably moved him from his home country of South Africa. Him bieing in the same town as Scrooge instead of half a world away allows for easier setups and more intresting ones.

Rosa however being obdient to Barks Version of things, ketp Glomgold in South Africa like barks did, which was an .. ifffy decision given Apartheid had JUST ended at the time of this story. Not so much in the reboot as not only had apartheid been long gone by the time of the reboot, but that’s more fair. Still we do get some gorgeous vistas as a result as Glomgold’s minon goes to look at it and finds it’s from McDuck Mining company... Glomgold’s reaction is obvious. 

So on that note we cut to Scrooge rushing to Donalds house and forcing him awake and not telling him anything at first. Look his Ducktales Counterpart straight up kidnapped his donald in my last review, I’d call this a win. He also tries to dress Donald while explaning both his panic to find the crashed satlitle and what it found: the golden island. The end result of him dressing donald is worth a chuckle

So after Donald puts his shirt and little hat on our heroes get rollin rollin rollin what keep rollin rollin rollin who to Manilla. On the plane we get the scene I mentioned: The boys make a quip about Scrooge having lost a day and the group go over the international date line. It’s a fun little scene especially Donald trying to get paid early at the end. Classic scrooge and donald stuff without the abusive undertones some of their classic stuff has. 

Meanwhile Glomgold works out the data and finds out about the gold island, and his excitement accidently wakes a giraffe outside.. welll it was nice knowing him, Giraffes are the deadliest species known to man.. here’s an educational video t back that up....

So at Manilla Airport, Scrooge finds out abotu the south african crash, figuring he’ll get a laugh out of glomgold being there ... only for Donald to spot the Jet. Scrooge figures this can’t be anything good... now come on man maybe he’s just promoting his energy drink. 

As super sayin god super sayian as my witness, I will never get tired of Ultra Instinct Glomgold here. 

Scrooge isn’t so nice about that though and figures he better find out if Glomgold knows about the island and bribes one of the fueling crew for his uniform. He sucesssfully eavesdrops on Glomgold talking to his pilot, finding out from him exactly WHERE the island is. He ends up hilariously botching the mission though: when getting ready to leave Glomgold complains abotu the price of gas and that naturally causes Scrooge, just as cheap, to join in... and Glomgold to find out it’s Scrooge. The two wrestle outside the plane but before this can progress to a game of Naked Robber an airport security guy comes up and Scrooge cleverly claims that Glomgold’s plane has an infestiation, requring it to be quanrantined and allowing Scrooge to jet on.. thoguh not with an actual jet. With Glomgold seemingly dispatched, he can afford to save some money and take his time with a seaplane and I know just the man for the job. 

Oh nope looks like he’s busy. So one time related rambles later we meet Keoki, their asian pilot from the tiny island of Wookawooka.. and no that’s not a real place i checked... and no Fozzy dosen’t own it his check bounced. That being said it is a very well done represntation of someone from a smaller country: he’s doing this job to try and bring money back home, but being a seaplane captain just isn’t enough and his island is dying. Scrooge naturally is about as sympathetic as you’d expect, having apparently never even heard of the idea of a bonus when Huey, Dewey or Louie suggests it. 

Even less suprising is that Glomgold streaks by in his Jet:turns out Manilla was already overun with the bugs Scrooge claimed and Donald rubs it in that had Scrooge got a JET this wouldn’t of been an issue. 

So Glomgold easily beats them there, and to add insult and actualy injury to a cash based one, our heroes get blasted by golden lava on the way in and crash. Should’ve gotten launchpad... got the crashing professional. Keoki is dispondent as this means his people are doomed. He also dosen’t know waht staking a claim is when Scrooge mentions it and the boys bring him up to speed with the poor guy saying he wish he could for WookaWooka. Donald also makes a valid point about how greedy and heartlress scrooge can be.. and really billiionares in general.

No no YOUR the Grouch who refuses to have one drop of emapthy. Donald’s just pissed at your general selfish and terrible behavior. 

Glomgold glomgloats and has seemingly won... but naturally that rant that seemed extranious at the time about the date line comes into play: turns out the Island is on it, and since glomgold put his marker int he west, Scrooge simply puts his in the east which is a whole day before. Now GRANTED there’s nor eal legal prescendice for the intetaoinal date line itself , as noted above... but there’s enough witnesses in Scrooge’s favor that it simply does not matter anyway. Scrooge SEEMINGLY wins.

But Huey, Dewey Or Louie instead backs another claim: Keoki’s from earlier. While it was made in gest, he and the others along with Donald back it as witnsses instad. WookaWooka is saved and SCrogoe ends the story yelling at the narrator.

Final Thoughts: Don Rosa.. did not like this story, feeling it wasn’t one of his best and apologizing for it. I however.. really loved it. It’s not PERFECT: the narration feels not entirely necessary and the gag isn’t as funny as he thinks, though the payoff of scrooge saying “it’s time for this story to end” is fucking hilarous. I also feel it’s a bit too compressed: the story is only 16 pages and was only THAT long because Rosa added a few for exposition, a worthy addition. This feels like one of his 30 page adventure stories but slightly crammed into half the length. I also feel the golden island bit was BADLY underused as it’s such a cool setting but barely shows up in the story. 

But despite that.. it’s still a fun story: as is standard for Rosa the art is gorgeous and the humor is great. And unlike some stories where Rosa casually ignores how terrible scrooge is, here it’s his own greed and hubris that do him in: had he actually agreed to help Keoki, the boys likey would’ve let him keep the island but his own cold refusual to be a human being does him in, just as his cheapness nearly did. Flintheart is also decent here.. not the deepest foe but frankly most classical duck antagonists really aren’t all that fleshed out, and we still get some good bits with him. The dateline bit, while telegraphing that it will be important, as I said REALLY isn’t that hard to understand. All in all while i’ll agree with Rosa this isn’t his BEST, it’s still a really damn good story and one he shoudln’t be ashamed of. 

Tommorow: Green Eggs and ham is back for some train shenanigans! Kay. 

Saturday: The Tom Retrospective returns for it’s last detour! Eclipsa and Moon team up to stop meteora but grapple with diffrent wants: One to save her daughter.. the other to stop waht she clearly sees as an out of control monster. The result.. will only lead to tragedy and a hell of a two parter. 

If you liked this review consider joining my patreon, patroen.com/popculturebuffet. At as low as 2 bucks a month you get accesss to my patreon discord, exclusive reviews, and to pick a short when I do one of my shortstragavanzas, a marthon of theatrical shorts honoring a characters birthday. And given Donald’s is next month, now’s the time to get on board. 

But if you go up to 5 you get a guaranteed review of whatever you want every month, and will get me to my next milestone, which will give everyone including yourself a monthly public darkwing duck review, reviews of the two Ducktales minis’ I haven’t covered (Time is Money and SuperDuckTales) and a reivew of the Danny Phantom film the Ultimate Enemy. So please join today and if you cannot, like this review, subscribe and give me your opinions on it bellow. Or even if you can feedback is always appricated and I will see you at the next rainbow. 

[winterscaptain]

in harmony.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: i’ve cast the choirs (because i think i’m hilarious) and have a playlist to listen to as you read, if you want the ~full experience~. i’ve done my best to time it out with the music so it flows properly, depending on how fast you read. the beginning moves a little faster than the music, so i would recommend starting the playlist at the beginning of the fic. this one has been living in my head rent free for way too long and i’m so stoked to share it with you.

straight no chaser as the nsa mc6 a cappella as the atf pentatonix as the fbi

words: 4035 warnings: mild swearing, internal monologuing, and pining!hotch ft. supportive!jj, tw: a capella themes setlist here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7GQkhBUhUfdJI4m0vZbqbJ?si=46TMCTj9SkCRoHlnAxHfkg

masterlist | requests closed!

The Official Unofficial Los Angeles Inter-Agency Choral Competition was in its final stages of preparation, and you were at the center of it. CIA did the judging, as usual, and each agency had a team, a setlist, and a competitive streak a mile long. 

Because the bragging rights awarded by the CIA were so coveted, the agents involved in the choral groups got a half day off of work, waived by the Assistant Directors themselves. 

Thus, the NSA, ATF, and FBI choral teams were goofing around in the federal building auditorium with the abandon of a bunch of high schoolers. Sound check was always criminally fun, and most of it was spent giving each other a hard time and arranging music on the fly. 

The engineers were still working and would still need a few minutes to themselves before you all got onstage and ran your sets. 

“Hey, Bureau.” 

You turned, finding Ben behind you in his black button-up and tie. “Hey, dumbass.” 

Ben was the arranger for the NSA team and your closest friend in Los Angeles. You got along famously, and you joked that the friendship between you was the only reason there was interagency cooperation in your jurisdiction at all. 

He was looking particularly sharp this afternoon, as the NSA team prided themselves on their polished performance aesthetic. 

“Ready for tonight?” He asked. 

You laughed. “God, am I ever. I’ve been working CT down in the bunker for weeks.” 

“Oh, dude that’s brutal. When was the last time you saw daylight?”

You blew air through your lips. “Ah, fuck, I dunno, like a week?”

Ben laughed and slung an arm around your shoulders. “This is a helluva way to get back into civilization with the rest of us.” 

You scoffed. “It’s bold to imply anyone at the NSA is a part of any society.” 

“C’mon. Trash talking doesn’t start until we’ve rehearsed at least once.” He jostled you, and you let out another peal of laughter. 

“Try me, hot shot.” 

Meanwhile, upstairs, the BAU was finishing up their goodbyes and case reports for the Los Angeles field office. There was a spree killer wreaking havoc in the Mid-City neighborhood, and the BAU was of enormous help in apprehending the suspect. 

You’d been in the aforementioned CT bunker for at least a week and had no idea your (greatly missed) former unit was on your side of the country, let alone in the same building.  

“Oh!” Agent Fitzgerald said, suddenly. The BAU looked up all at once, and it was almost comical. “I completely forgot. There’s an event tonight that’s always really fun. If you all aren’t in any rush to get back to Quantico, we’d love for you to stay. If you’re eager to get back, they’re in the auditorium right now for a dress rehearsal and it shouldn’t take more than a half hour.” 

JJ’s head tilted. “What’s going on?”

“The Official Unofficial Los Angeles Inter-Agency Choral Competition.” Fitzgerald grinned. “It’s really fun, surprisingly good, and never not hilarious.” 

Emily laughed. “You’re kidding.” 

“Not even a little.” 

+++

Ben and his team were in the middle of their set, and you were bopping along with some of the ATF guys in the corner. 

You couldn’t deny the talent on the NSA team. They were clean-cut, crisp, and well-arranged (thanks to Ben), but you couldn’t help but think they were a little too polished. 

Ben had the lock on comedic mashups, and had a great on-stage persona - one of the very few NSA agents with a sense of humor. He sang directly to you, much of the time, in rehearsal because he knew it made you laugh. His sense of humor was infused through all the arrangements, and the lyrics alone were enough to have you on the floor.

Their movie medley opener was your favorite, full of silly references and even a sing-along section. You knew all the words simply because you’d sat with Ben as he spent three days arranging and adjusting it a couple of months ago. Obviously, you offered absolutely no help because all you wanted was to watch him crash and burn. 

Maybe some sabotage could come in handy next time…

They rounded out their set with a clean-cut cover of Smash Mouth’s All Star. Ben was always in it for the laugh, and you loved it. Both teams in the house were laughing as the NSA made increasingly bigger spectacles of themselves. 

It was easier to forget how much you missed your family in Virginia when you were with the other teams - rehearsing and bonding and spending time together. There was no unit in Los Angeles like the BAU insofar as the bond between team members, but this event always mimicked it better than anything else. 

Without Ben, you’d barely have anyone at all. He happened to be assigned to you as a liaison between agencies on one of your first cases, and you got on like a house on fire. His friends became your friends, and you found your footing in your new home. They showed you the best beaches (Manhattan and Malibu), the best sushi (Enya), and perhaps most importantly - the best route and attack strategy for navigating the hell that was LAX. 

You avoided calling your old unit as much as possible, as you were sure it would keep you from fully settling down. If half of your head was in Virginia, you’d always hate Los Angeles. That said, Aaron was still the first number on your speed dial, and your thumb spent a fair amount of time hovering over it before inevitably shoving it back in your pocket. You’d done it just today, walking from your office to the auditorium. 

You left the ATF to their ridiculous devices, and joined your team in the house. 

“Doin’ alright? I heard it was a rough week for y’all down in CT.” Michael, a Texas native and an insane talent, could have been an excellent profiler if he wasn’t so great at ferreting out tax fraud. You both spoke in hushed tones, as to not disrupt the rehearsal. 

You nodded, patting him on the arm. “I’m alright.” 

“Missin’ home?” 

You nodded again. “Just a bit. It’s weird coming out into the world after being in the bunker - it’s almost like I don't remember where I am, and I almost expect to be somewhere else.”

He didn’t say anything, but leaned against you. It was a small gesture, but a meaningful one.

When NSA was finished, with their levels set and lights programmed, it was ATF’s turn to get up on stage and flutter around until they were adjusted. 

Michael said something ridiculous, and it made you laugh out loud. You slapped a hand over your mouth, hearing it resonate through the house as one of the floor mics picked it up.  

At the back of the auditorium, only minutes prior, Agent Fitzgerald had slipped in with the BAU. They all stood along the back wall, and you only would have seen them if you knew where to look. The auditorium was massive, and the only lights up were the lights onstage - distinguishable features were nearly impossible to determine from the distance. 

Aaron’s breath caught for a moment. A microphone picked up someone’s laugh near the stage, and it sounded startlingly like yours.  

Must be mistaken. There’s no way. 

As ATF started up, Ben grabbed you by the hand and pulled you to your feet. He turned you under his arm and led - dancing you around on the floor at the front of the stage. You laughed your way into his arms, and fell into a relaxed Lindy Hop. You took turns leading, throwing him under your arm just as many times as you ducked under his. 

Aaron’s thoughts wandered, the laugh he heard triggering something in him. He missed you greatly, but that was no secret. You two had started seeing each other, unbeknownst to the team, a little more than three months before your transfer. 

The team were too polite to tell you, but they knew something was going on from the get-go. Hotch was happier, and you were more effusive in all situations. You balanced each other well, and could bounce ideas and fight and communicate like nobody else in the unit. It was an asset more than anything, but when the transfer assignment came through, there was no negotiating. 

For all involved, you decided it was best to end things - or at least pause them - while you were stationed at the LA field office. It would be too hard, and you’d hate to hate him by the time you got back to Virginia for one reason or another. So, you were alone at the LA field office, while he stayed right were he was. 

Wait. The LA field office. 

He was jarred from his thoughts by JJ, who smiled and asked, “What’s their deal?” Her eyes were trained on the dancing couple on the house floor, out in front of the apron of the stage. 

“Oh those two are the only reason the FBI and NSA play nicely in the sandbox together. They’re two peas in a pod. They work counter-terrorism for their respective agencies, and have a knack for solving inter-departmental disputes.” 

“Are they together?” JJ’s question was light, but Hotch knew there were ulterior motives. Maybe she’d heard your laugh too, and refused to doubt. 

She was good at that - not doubting. Hotch, on the other hand, sucked at the whole faith thing. He found his skepticism was only getting worse with age, and he (in that very moment) decided to have a little more hope. 

“Oh, no, not at all. Ben doesn’t swing that way, and my understanding is that Agent L/N left someone back on the east coast and hasn’t been seeing anyone out here.” It was clear Agent Fitzgerald, a new import to the LA field office herself, had no idea you worked with the BAU prior to your transfer. 

Maybe you hadn’t talked about them at all. 

That thought sent a little unpleasant spike through Hotch’s chest. 

Hope. Hope. 

Maybe Fitzgerald just missed something, or didn’t know you too well. 

Hotch could feel Emily’s eyes on him, but continued watching the ATF runthrough. It was your laugh he heard. Ben threw you around with ease, and you both cut clean, sharp lines silhouetted against the stage lights. 

Then, of course, it was Emily’s turn to ask questions. “So how did this...tradition start?”

Fitzgerald shrugged. “It’s my understanding that it’s been happening for years, brought on by some ridiculous bet between ATF and FBI. Never ones to be outdone, the NSA inserted themselves, the CIA wanted a piece of action, and the rest is history.”

“Only in California,” said Dave with a laugh. 

As the songs changed, Aaron watched you tap out of the dance, sitting down heavily in one of the house seats and taking a few huge sips of water. Ben grabbed his water bottle from the floor and came to the row behind you, wrapping his arms around you from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder. 

Though he was just told Ben would not ever be into you in that way, Hotch couldn’t help the prickle of jealousy that snuck up his belly. JJ, beside him, stepped close to him and hooked her hand around his forearm, her thumb brushing circles against his suit jacket. 

“I’m alright,” he whispered. 

She squeezed once. “I know.” It sounded like she knew more than that, but Hotch let it go. While sometimes irritating, it was nice to have people around him that knew him so well. 

JJ continued to cling to his sleeve as the ATF transitioned to the FBI. 

It nearly startled him out of his skin to hear your voice echo through the house on a hand-held microphone. You stood on the edge of the stage, squinting at the booth at the back of the house. “Can we run full tech? We have AV that needs to be sequenced correctly.” 

A click, then a disembodied voice. “We’re ready for full AV.”

You shot a two fingered salute. “Thanks, team. Let’s bring up the seal for now and go from there.” 

The FBI seal and motto floated into focus on the fabric behind them, and Aaron felt himself almost lean forward in anticipation. He chanced a look down the line, and the rest of his team was smiling, waiting, watching. Just like he was. 

JJ bumped his shoulder.  

The stage was rather dark, but he could see all five of you lined up almost against the fabric. The song started quickly, with strong base and an uptempo beat. 

Your team ran to the front of the stage one by one, following the phrases of the music - fun and high energy. 

“I didn’t know…” Emily whispered to Derek, at a loss. He shrugged, still totally floored. You’d never joined them in their horrible karaoke spectacles, claiming the sanctity of your dignity, but Hotch realized now it was just to spare their feelings. 

You were incredible. Your eyes shone in the light, your smile flashing behind your microphone. It was obvious you were having a helluva time, and were close to your teammates. You played off each other easily, keeping pace without conducting, feeling the music and harmony in every cell of your body. Hotch saw your work ethic even in this - collaborative, but still taking charge. 

It was clear your team looked to you for tone and energy, and you delivered. With a start, Aaron realized he’d never heard this song before. He leaned forward and asked, “Are some of these originals?”

Fitzgerald nodded. “The FBI team has a few strong writers on it this year, so they were able to pull together a medley, an original, and the closer in about three weeks.” 

Hotch raised his eyebrows. “Wow. That’s impressive.” 

She laughed lightly. “You’re tellin’ me. I was in here one day when they were workshopping after hours and was blown away.” 

When you were finished with your first piece, you looked back to check the cyc - satisfied to find Home, arranged by Y/N L/N in gold, in the FBI font. 

“I’m gonna practice my little spiel here or I won’t get it tonight. I’ll count you off at the end, go on three, yeah?” 

Click. “Copy. Go for it,” came the disembodied voice once more. 

“When we were deciding which medley we wanted to use, we figured out there was nothing in our library that really spoke to us at that moment where we were. So, we wrote a new one. This one is called Home, and includes a bunch of songs that not only include the word ‘home,’ but ones that mean something to us or someone we love. 

“Home, to us, is where our families are. We all chose a series of pictures that represent home for us, the people we love. I hope you enjoy listening to this medley as much as we enjoyed writing it.” You flashed a winning smile before raising your hand, waiting a moment, and then dropping it, immediately starting to sing. 

The rest of your team fell in right away, stepping up to the mics and sinking into the arrangement. A figure jogged up the steps toward Hotch, and he latently realized it could only be Ben, his agile stride giving him away. 

He settled right beside Hotch, leaning against the wall. Needless to say, Aaron was confused. That is, until - 

“You’re Hotchner, aren’t you?”

Aaron kept his gaze trained on the stage. “Who’s asking?”

“Ben Collins, NSA. I would be a really shitty friend if I couldn’t recognize someone I’d seen in a framed photo on Y/N’s desk like 20 times.” 

With that, he gave Hotch a mock-salute and trotted back down the stairs. 

JJ furrowed her brow. “What was that about?”

“I have no idea,” Hotch admitted. “He knew me, though, from photos.” 

He felt, rather than saw, JJ’s smile as she bumped him with her shoulder. “Focus - You’re missing it.” 

He huffed a laugh, and tuned back in. 

Home was an undeniably fun medley, and the photos were heartwarming and strategically chosen to hide all faces except the agents’ on stage. Aaron smiled when he heard a line from one of his favorite songs. 

Our house Is a very very very fine house...

Just a brush, but it felt like your touch, your smile, reaching him. You took the next section with renewed energy, never falling into stillness as you drove the music forward. 

JJ clutched at Hotch’s sleeve, and he lifted his gaze from you to the cyc. On it, there were photos of Dave’s backyard, mixed in with what he only assumed were the pictures from your teammates’ homes and families. They were piling on top of each other, as if someone was throwing them into a pile, one by one. 

A photo of JJ, Emily, and Penelope flashed by, their backs to the camera. 

There was one of you, Jack’s face hidden in your neck as you smiled fondly at the person just to the left of the camera. Aaron recognized that image, but from a different angle. You’d been smiling at him, just next to Emily. 

Emily’s eyes strayed to Hotch. There was a look on his face she’d never seen before. She almost looked away, feeling like she was intruding on an intimate moment. Instead, she lightly smacked Derek’s shoulder, and he looked over too. 

“The separation has been hard on them both,” he said, his voice low. “Look.” He tipped his chin toward you. 

Your posture didn’t look any different to anyone who knew better, but Emily could see the slight sag in your shoulders, hear the small catch in your breath. The music affected you more than you’d care to admit. 

A photo came into view on the screen - one where you stared out the jet window with your chin in your hand, Hotch’s face pressed into your torso as he slept with his head in your lap. Your fingers were tangled in his thick dark hair, twirling absent-minded curls into the locks behind his ear. JJ smiled. She’d taken that one. It was soon covered with another, then another, then another. 

Agent Fitzgerald bid the team a quiet farewell and slipped out to take a phone call. Hotch barely noticed. She’d been on her phone most of the time, and had missed the photos. She was blissfully unaware of your connection to the team, and for that Hotch was grateful. It almost felt wrong to disrupt the little world you’d built here. 

They were almost done, preparing for the closer. 

Maybe he was biased, but Hotch felt your team was the strongest. 

NSA had the polish and that classic choral look and looked like they were having just the right amount of fun, but there was still that competitive edge that took some of the luster out of the performance. 

ATF were the most traditional of the group, all of their music recognizable, tightly arranged, and reminiscent of barbershop quartets. While entertaining, it was clear you and Ben stole the show with your dancing, the music taking a ready backseat to your antics. 

Your team had fun. There was no bite in it. You weren’t there to win, but rather just there for the sheer fun of it. Your music was yours, it meant something, and was more creatively arranged than the rest of them by a long shot. 

Aaron felt a rush of pride as he watched you shine. While he couldn’t articulate it, he could sense the same thing Derek noticed. There was something pulling at you - the same thing pulling at his shoulders and the corners of his mouth whenever he had fun without you. 

“Alright,” you said, just a little out of breath. You took the mic off the stand. “We have one last number, and we all sing it together.” You held the mic out to your left, and Ben took it from you. 

“This is our favorite, because it’s a really good excuse to think of the people we love.” 

Some agent (whose name always escaped you) from the ATF took the mic next. “Thanks for coming out tonight to watch our ridiculous annual competition, for bragging rights and honorary ownership of the City of Los Angeles.” 

Ben took the mic from him and passed it back to you. 

“I hope we all have someone in our life that we love so much it's difficult to articulate. I know I do.” 

JJ inhaled sharply as Hotch let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. You missed him. He could feel it. He wasn’t alone. 

You replaced the mic, and stepped back. With the FBI in the center, ATF to the right, and NSA to the left, you began. 

There’s a calm surrender To the rush of day When the heat of a rolling wave Can be turned away

It was a beautiful picture, all of you standing together as one united front. The sound was incredible - filling the space with sound that spun right into the chests of everyone listening. You stepped up with Ben and an ATF agent, standing close to the mic. 

Ben reached for your hand, knowing this one was hard for you. You’d probably never get a chance to have Hotch in the same room, feeling what you felt, singing this song. It was silly - a Disney song. But it always cracked you wide open. It was only ever for him. 

You took Ben’s hand and gripped it tight. It wasn’t performance, so you could really do whatever you wanted as long as sound and projections were able to do their work. 

The breakdown of the song was your favorite, and you threw your hands in the air, releasing Ben - the final lighting cue of the show. It was designed to bridge the gap between the players and the audience, bringing everyone together.

The house lights came on about halfway, and the BAU was visible from the stage, as they’d all crept forward during the set. Hotch could only imagine what that lighting effect would do when the house was full of agents and their families later tonight. A true communion, with the music and the people. 

Your eyes scanned the house, rehearsing your engagement pathway through the audience. A small cluster of people caught your attention, and Ben squeezed your hand. You looked over at him, still singing, and he gave a tiny toss of his head back to the group. 

Looking more carefully now, you saw your team. More specifically, you saw Aaron. 

He was watching you with a fond smile, and you knew he saw you clock his presence. JJ was on his arm, likely anchoring in him place and comforting him in only the way she could. 

Against your will, a broad smile pulled at your face, a shot of adrenaline pushing you into the finale. Your eyes were locked on his, the music only a footnote to two simple words running on loop in your head. 

He’s here he’s here he’s here he’s here.

The world for once In perfect harmony With all its living things. 

You hit the final chord and let it hang in the air for a moment. It felt like forever - the BAU burst into applause, Derek and Emily whistling and shouting - while you and Hotch just stared at each other across the house.

The connection was only broken when Ben yanked you back to rehearse bows, which took all of thirty seconds. You squinted at your friend when you stood straight again. He had a smug little smile on his face. 

“You knew,” you accused with absolutely no heat. 

Ben shrugged. “I investigated.” He shot you a wink as he said, “It’s what I do.” 

You rolled your eyes and shoved past him, nearly leaping down the steps into the house. You ran up the aisle, and Hotch was there to catch you, holding you close. 

“You’re here.” 

He kissed the side of your head. “Of course I’m here. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @wandaswitxh @hurricanejjareau @fics-ilike @ange-must-die @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts  @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @saintd0lce @good-heavens-chris-evans @davidrossi-ismydad @angelsbabey @gublergirls @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @vintagecaptainspidey @micaiahmoonheart @ogmilkis @thatreallyis-americas-ass @marvels-agents100 @newtslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @joemazzello-imagines @pinkdiamond1016 @sebbybaby0 @lilsiswinchester @pan-pride-12 @hotchlinebling @lee-rin-ah @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @emmice9 @nohalohoseok @giveusbackourbucky @writerxinthedark @mrshotchnerrossimulder21 @bauslut @yourlovelynewsbian @sparklingkeylimepie @aili28 @kingandrear @reader4027 @spnobsessedmemes @rogers-mouth @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @hotchnersgoddess @buckybau @phoenixfyre374 @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandi-ass-prentiss @songbird400 @dontkissthewriter @ellyhotchner @a-dorky-book-keeper @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @ahopelessromantic @violentvulgarvolatile @andreasworlsboring101 @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @bwbatta @roses-and-grasses 

[chasingthepoguelife]

Drew Starkey x Austin North x Reader

Incase anyone is wondering what I’ve been thinking about and what I want for Christmas

Summary: There’s no stronger relationship than the one you and Drew have. There’s also no stronger friendship between Drew and Austin, so when Drew suggests to make Austin part of your relationship for one night, neither of you can say no.

Warnings: SMUT, just filth, threesomes, choking, swearing, condomless sex

Drew always looked forward to Fridays. He’d have the next 2 days off from filming, running around Charleston with his cast mates, and of course alone time with his girlfriend. He considers himself the luckiest guy in the world, landing his dream role, and the day you chose him, despite meeting Rudy and Austin first. He was even more relieved how you and his best friend hit off, no issues at all. Drew knew he had it bad for you from the start, and everyone else could see it. It was no secret how you were all about each other, no matter how many people tried to interfere. He felt even more for you when he heard you that one time talking about how hot Austin was, but noticed how you never looked at Austin the way you look at him. Austin wasn’t too shy either, always complimenting you, calling you beautiful, but of course in a respectful way. It was obvious that when you met all the boys, each one thought you were drop dead gorgeous. None of them really thought about it as Drew was the only one who caught feelings for you, but if you weren’t off limits, they would try to have their way with you.

Drew and Austin finally got back to their apartment, plopping down on the couch after a 14-hour work day.

“I’m not moving from this couch unless it’s to piss,” Austin yawned.

“Nothing is going to make me get up from my ass,” Drew said.

The boys sat in silence browsing through Netflix until they heard a knock on the door.

“Dude you get it,” Austin insisted.

“Did you not hear me; I’m not getting up!” Drew yelled.

“Ok I’m just coming in!” a voice yelled that both boys recognized.

Both boys didn’t even notice the presence of another person until she was right in front of them, eyes bulging within seconds. Those were the tightest pair of biker shorts Austin had ever seen. He’s seen you in short skirts and bikinis before, but this was completely Drew. As for Drew, who has seen you naked many times, this was like unlocking a new level. Both boys were too busy gawking to hear you yelling their names.

“I said hello! Can either of you hear me?” you yelled.

“Just a long day babe, what’s up?” Drew asked.

“I just wanted to stop by. I’m heading to workout and I was thinking when I’m done, we could go out to eat. Austin, you should come too,” you said flashing a smile.

After agreeing on the plans, you got into normal conversation which made Drew come down from his moment of being hot and bothered, but that seemed to go away when he stopped talking as nothing could distract him from you. He started to notice Austin’s gaze on you, and how he was sitting weird. He knows Austin thinks you always look good, but there was a tension in the room. Maybe it was the porn Drew would watch on the nights you couldn’t be with him, but an idea struck.

“Babe, don’t go yet, stay here. I was thinking we could play a game.”

You knew that tone in Drew’s voice, the tone he always used before he suggests you guys try something new.

“In front of Austin?” you gasped.

“So here’s the thing. I know you think Austin is hot, and Austin I know you can’t help but stare at her all the time, I would too if I was you. Maybe it’s long overdue, maybe it will relive things, maybe it’s just for fun, but what if you let Austin and I fuck you at the same time?” Drew boldly asked.

The room was quiet as Drew awaited the answers from his girlfriend and best friend.

You’d never tell Drew, but before you even met him, your biggest crush was Topper from Outer Banks. You were so caught off guard when Drew swept in and won your heart that you forgot all about Austin, but often thought of what his bodyweight would feel on yours.

“If y/n is comfortable with it, why not, it could be fun?” Austin said.

“I can’t say I haven’t thought about. But this can’t be weird, for either of us, I mean it. This happens one time for now and no one else can know, especially Rudy,” you said sending daggers into Austin’s eyes.

“I promise y/n. It will be all fine. It’s something new and hot. Yeah, I think you’re gorgeous but I don’t feel the way Drews about you. That’s for you guys only,” Austin said relaxing you.

Drew came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“This is just for fun babe. We won’t do anything you don’t want us to,” Drew promised.

“Well then, ok, let’s do it, you just better make it worth it.”

Drew wasted no time as he moved his hands closer to your core, kissing and licking all over your neck and ears, whispering how beautiful you were. He let go of you and pushed you into Austin’s arms. Having your body pressed against his sturdy and muscular body was enough to make you cum right on the spot. You took in Austin’s intoxicating smell as you’ve never been this close to him, lifting your chin to share your first kiss with him. Austin started to dig his hands into your waist, deepening the kiss, rubbing circles into your body with his crotch. To Drew’s surprise, ha sat back on the couch, watching Austin work on you first. He never thought he’d be the type of boyfriend to be ok with this, but his mind and body were definitely were. Eventually he had enough waiting around and charged, his hands going straight for your panties.

“I think I’m a little jealous over here. She is absolutely dripping only after a few minutes with her.”

Drew started rubbing circles around your clit causing your head to fall back into his chest. He pushed you up for a second for Austin to take your shirt off. If Austin’s bulge wasn’t noticeable know, it certainly was now, simply from staring at your bare chest. Meanwhile with Drew still working on your clit, you knew you were mere minutes away from your first orgasm. Without notice, Austin’s mouth got to work on your nipples. You cried out the second his entire mouth covered your nipple. Your left hand was caressing Austin’s hair as he worked on you, and your right hovering over Drew’s pants. The sensation of both of them on you was like nothing you ever felt before. It didn’t take long before you were moaning Drew’s name and cumming in his hands.

“For someone who just came you seem a little pouty,” Austin noted.

“Because it’s not fair that I’m the only one still wearing clothes,” you winked.

You grabbed both boys by the hand, leading them to Austin’s room.

“What?” you asked as they looked at you funny. “It’s only fair that this time I’m in Austin’s room.”

You wasted no time pushing Austin onto the bed. Your mouth quickly attached to his as you worked your way down licking and kissing all the way down to the band of his boxers. Drew was no stranger, only a few inches behind you as he watched.

“Do you tease Drew like this,” Austin growled. You wanted to make sure he knew you were in control now. His boxers were already down to his knees, cold air hitting his cock as you licked and kissed everywhere but. You could hear his desperate moans which only made you better. With the first lick to his tip he was moaning loud enough for the neighbors to hear. You started with little licks here and then, until you took as much of him as you could. Your mouth popped when you felt a coldness on your pussy, Drew of course, playing with you with, with his ring on.

“Babe don’t you stop. I want you to keep working on Austin while I fuck you,” Drew demanded. As soon as his tip hit your entrance you were already moaning. A few more seconds, and he was all the way in, stretching you out the way he always does. The vibrations from your mouth on Austin’s dick put him over the edge. After a bunch of “Fucks” and “omg y/n”, Austin’s cum was all over you for the first time. You lifted your back as Drew continued to pound into you. Austin just cumming 30 seconds ago, getting hard again watching you get fucked as your tits bounced covered in his cum. Now your face was barley visible to Austin as it was buried into the mattress from how hard Drew was fucking you. You could feel the orgasm coming on as your vision began to blur, something that often came with fucking Drew. He lifted you up and tilted your head back while keeping up his pace. He was this close to finishing as he leaned down to kiss you softly. You knew Drew chose to fuck you like this because this never failed to make you cum. The orgasm came rushing in as Drew tightened his grip around your throat, causing you to gag, not breaking eye contact as he cummed all over your back. Before you could fall into the mattress, Austin caught you in his arms, playing with your hair as you stared into his eyes.

“Why do girls always look so cute right after they cum?” Austin chuckled.

Drew moved closer to you while you were still in Austin’s arm to check on you, now smushing you in between the two of them, still naked and sticky.

“Are you ok baby?” Drew’s chin rested on your shoulder.

“I’m better then ok,” you laughed. “I’m just a little sticky, I want to clean up.”

You’re a little relieved that Drew and Austin didn’t ask for more. Yeah, they really wore you out but like having actual sex with Drew inside you just for him, it keeps it more special that way. You layed in between both boys as you all came down from your highs, taking in everything that happened, tracing your fingers all over their chests.

“Are you both sure that this should only be one time?”

[kstewdeux]

Scars On My Heart

Orginally Posted on FFN and Ao3 for @superpixie42

"It's just a stupid cut," InuYasha snapped as he tried to scramble backwards without wincing, "It'll get better in the morning. I don't need you to clean it."

"Oh yes. Whatever could go wrong," Kagome countered scathingly as she watched the black haired boy literally back himself into a corner, "Why bother cleaning a dirt covered wound? It'll just seal up all that dirt in the morning and you'll get blood poisoning. No big deal."

Inuyasha smirked despite himself before his glare returned full force.

"You just want to see me naked," he tried hoping her embarrassment would get her to leave him alone.

"Oh. You got me. That was my plan all along," Kagome bit back sarcastically before giving him a withering glare, "Shirt. Off."

"Make me," he snarled and Kagome sighed.

"You're so immature."

"You're immature."

"Great comeback," Kagome snorted, "Doesn't sound like something a child would say at all."

"I'm not a child!"

"Then stop acting like one," Kagome clipped back as she raised an eyebrow, "You want to keep going? We've got all night and I'm not backing down until you let me see your wound."

The stare down that followed would've sent chills down even Naraku's spine before InuYasha admitted defeat and began shrugging out of his clothes.

"Not like dirt even got on it," he muttered scathingly, "Stupid woman. Being all dramatic."

Kagome ignored the insult as she collected the linens and disinfectant she had laid out. Scooting towards the seething man sending daggers at her with his dark eyes, she gently wiped away the smeared blood before her hand paused. Wiping again, she realized that some of the dark pink streaks weren't blood smears at all.

"What are these?" Kagome whispered as she traced a few with her finger and Inuyasha's angry countenance faded as he looked down.

"Nothing," he replied indifferently, "Hurry up already. That shit burns my nose."

"They're scars," she whispered as her eyes traveled across his chest. It was littered with them. How had she never noticed before?

"Are you blind? They've been there woman," he hissed as insecurity welled in his chest, "Like I said. They're nothing."

"I've never seen them," she replied softly as her gaze drifted upwards to his neck. Several purplish jagged lines adorned his throat. Like multiple someones had tried to slice it at one point or another. A shaky sigh escaped her lips.

"When did these happen?" she asked quietly as she traced a particular nasty one on his throat with her finger causing him to shiver. Not because it felt good either. He'd always assumed she'd been able to see them. A cold feeling of dread settled uneasily in his gut.

"Years ago," he admitted nervously as his eyes searched her face. She looked so sad. He swallowed thickly and unfortunately the movement accentuated the pale purplish lines causing Kagome's eyes to widen incrementally.

There were so many of them. Not one or two or even three. Dozens of people had tried to slit his throat. Dozens.

Forcing his chin up so she could inspect them more thoroughly, she really should've seen what followed coming. Hell hath no fury like an insecure half-demon.

"Get the fuck off" he snapped as he roughly pushed her away before instantly regretting what he'd done when Kagome fell onto her back. Her head making a soft thump as it made contact.

"Wait. Shit. Are you okay? I didn't mean..." he hissed as he scrambled forward and gently helped her back up, "Sorry. I just..."

"It's fine, InuYasha," she sighed as she rubbed the back of her head. He looked more miserable and horrified than she'd ever seen before.

"I hurt you," he whispered as his human eyes seemed to scan her body for injuries before, finding nothing worrisome, he finally relaxed. Kinda.

"I tried to pop the personal space bubble," Kagome laughed softly, "Should've known better."

"The what?" he blurted before the rest of what she'd said registered.

"You think I'd hurt you," he accused as his heart broke and she shook her head.

"I'm not saying that," she comforted as she gave him a reassuring smile, "Just saying I shouldn't have tried to do that."

Whatever she was doing was having the opposite effect of what she wanted. InuYasha suddenly looked so incredibly lost and scared and unsure of himself. Obviously unnerved by what he'd done and upset about what she'd said. If it wasn't so sad, she might've laughed at the uncharacteristic behavior. It was weird. Just...weird.

"Do you want to look at them?" he finally asked as he cast her a quick glance. He could fix this, he thought. He needed to fix this. He'd hurt her. Oh god he'd actually hurt her.

"The scars you mean?" she clarified and he nodded. His mind still replaying the last excruciating minute over and over and over. His self loathing building until he very seriously almost puked. Stupid human emotions. Making him do shit and feel.

"Do you want me to?" She asked hesistantly and he shrugged in reply. Truth be told, no. No he didn't. He didn't like being stared at on a good day. Especially when those stares focused on part of himself that were different.

All this time he'd assumed she saw them. Even on occasion when he felt like punishing himself, he almost thought she found him attractive despite his married skin, and demon traits. The demonic traits she obviously wasn't bothered by but the scars she clearly had never noticed before did. They seemed to bother her a lot.

Was she disgusted by him now? He had just gotten used to her genuine acceptance too. Assuming that she really didn't care about his appearance but now he knew the truth. It was entirely possible her vision was so bad she just didn't know.

Maybe she couldn't see what he looked like at all. That would explain a lot actually.

Either way he needed to fix all of this. He needed to fix it now.

Swallowing thickly, he nodded as he moved back into the corner and waited for the doom that was inevitably coming.

"Why don't I see these when you're normal?" Kagome asked as she scooted forward and began looking at the scars of his chest more closely. The small line over his heart that had clearly been placed there by Kikyo's arrow. The deep purple puckered one where Sesshomaru had thrust his hand through his stomach. But there was a series of healed gashes wrapping around his side that had her particularly concerned.

"I dunno," he muttered awkwardly. Being examined so throughly made him uneasy. She seemed so intrigued by those marks on his skin and not in a good way. Had she really never noticed before? What else had she not seen?

"I normally have dog ears, ya know," he muttered in an unsure tone that had her looking up at him instantly in amusement.

"No duh," she giggled, "What do they have to do with these scars?"

Well that was one less thing bothering him. She wasn't blind as a...

Wait, what the hell? What did she mean what did his ears have to do with...

"Are you really that stupid? I only have these because of those ears. Because of what I am," he snapped angrily as he glared down at her.

"I didn't mean..." Kagome groaned as she sat back on her knees and gave him a patient glare, "I was just wondering why you said that."

"Because you're acting like this," he gestured to his exposed torso, "Is new. Like it hasn't always been there."

"I've seen you literally naked before and you don't have these when you're your usual self," Kagome pointed out with an amused smile that fell when he merely looked confused, "At least to human eyes, I guess. Can you see them all the time?"

He let out a shuddering breath as he tried to get his anger back under control. Why were emotions so much harder as a human?

"They're lighter normally. More silver," he admitted finally as he awkwardly shifted his weight. He'd always assumed...

Maybe the others couldn't see them either. The scars invisible to human eyes. Shippo noticed. InuYasha knew he had. There were times the stupid brat seemed a little too focused on the worst of these blemishes when he thought no one was watching.

"Maybe that's it then," she hummed as she glanced over her chest before her eyes drifted back to those deep grooves wrapping across his stomach from the back.

"What's this one?" she asked quietly as she reached out and ran her finger across one of the shockingly deep valleys. He cringed and sat up a little straighter so his back was nearly flush against the wall. The scars on his chest, though numerous and ugly themselves, were the least of his problems. His chest wasn't a veritable topographical map complete with enough sprawling grooves that someone might mistake it for tree bark. At least the part she was looking at now had some smooth areas.

"It's a scar stupid," he clipped back hoping that the insult would end this line of questioning before swearing silently when her hand suddenly slipped behind him and her eyes widened in horror.

"Let me see your back," she breathed and he shook his head.

"I'm still bleeding," he pointed out as he desperately tried to change the subject, "You need to finish what you started. What about blood poisioning?"

"The bandage will have to wrap around your middle which will require me seeing your back," she pointed out with a knowing look.

"It's not that bad," he argued weakly, "Just put one of those bandaids on it."

"InuYasha," Kagome warned, "Don't make me say it."

"You wouldn't dare," he sneered although she could hear the genuine fear in his tone. She didn't sit him when he was human for a very good reason. The miko had done so once before when he was human and the spell had straight up broken his nose. Blood had gushed out all night after Sango had set it and the resulting bruise took two full days to disappear. To call the incident unpleasant would be an understatement.

"Then lay down and let me see your back," she challenged and the glare off began. Growing in intensity as they shot daggers and screamed at each other through expression alone. The problem he had was that he knew she would never let this go if he didn't fold. Might even be afraid to touch that part of him if she thought it might aggravate injuries long since healed. Kagome riding his back was definitely not something he had any intention of giving up. Which caused a conflict of It's own. If she saw, she might not want to touch him at all. Might be disgusted by the memory of seeing the mottled, disturbing sight.

"I just want to see," she finally asked in a soft, pleading tone as she batted her eyelashes at him and pouted prettily. His resolve wavered at the dirty trick.

"You're still you Inuyasha. I feel bad that I've never noticed before," she tried again in the sweetest, least cheesy tone she could manage and he folded.

Damn her.

Sighing, he slowly sprawled out on the floor, wincing when his still unattended injury hit the gritty floor. So much for worrying about the previously not covered in dirt wound.

Kagome's soft gasp felt like a thousand daggers in his heart. He turned his face away from her and rested his cheek on his arms. She'd never look at him the same again and a part of him grieved the inevitable loss.

"What happened?" she asked as her fingers trailed down the heavily grooved flesh. How could she have missed this? His back normally felt so smooth and this was far from the first time she'd tended to an injury.

"What do you think happened?" he chuckled darkly, "I got hurt."

Clearly, Kagome thought miserably as her eyes followed a strange series of wide loops. They had obviously been stretched over time. As he had grown, the skin had been pulled to match his larger stature.

"These are from when you were small," she whispered as she traced the asymmetrical grooves that were much, much deeper than they looked and were to blame for the wrap around blemish as well.

"Yeah," he sighed heavily. He knew which ones she was referring too. Those had been the first ugly marks he'd received.

"Are they from a whip?" she asked cautiously and he nodded.

"Why?" she asked quietly before huffing in frustration and backpedaling, "I mean I know why, why but I just..."

"My grandfather tied me to a post after mother died," he explained softly, "Something about the plague. I can't really remember."

She let out a shuddering breath and her fingers stilled for a moment.

"Is that how your mother died? She got sick?" Kagome asked as her fingers began lazily tracing the elaborate purplish groove once more and he nodded. Truth be told, it felt nice to have her touch him so intimately. When she usually tended to his injuries touch was just a means to an end. Deliberate and purposeful. This was...

He shivered slightly at the sensation.

"Sorry," she cringed as she retracted her hand, "Did that hurt?"

"No. Just cold is all," he lied softly, "You can keep looking if you want."

"There's so many," she murmured sadly as her fingers splayed out against his back and he had to bite his lip to keep from moaning. This wasn't bad. This wasn't bad at all. Why had he fought her again?

"What's this one?" she asked as one finger pressed lightly into a crescent shaped groove above his shoulder blade. He shrugged and the movement caused the marred flesh to crumple around her fingertip.

"I get injured a lot Kagome. You can't expect me to remember each time," he sighed.

"I..." the miko began as she lifted her hand and leaned over to look at his face, "I've been working on using my power to heal injuries. Since you're human right now, would you mind if I practiced? Maybe I can fade some of them. If you want."

The prospect of Kagome basically giving him a massage was very, very tempting. Whatever she wanted to try obviously wasn't going to work but who was he to say no to a pretty girl wanting to run her hands all over him?

He nodded before a satisfied hum escaped him when her palms suddenly pressed against the base of his back, applying slightly more pressure as they began sliding upwards before running down his sides. Again and again and again until he was panting slightly.

His mind lazily drifted into a less than innocent direction as he allowed himself to pretend that she still somehow found him attractive and her hands were running over him for an entirely different reason. It was especially easy to fantasize when her fingers trailed over his hip bone. A little too easy.

This needed to stop before he did something else to fuck up the best thing that had ever happen to him.

"I think that's enough," he sighed as he pushed himself back up into a sitting position.

"I got rid of a few," she offered with a proud little smile that had his heart melting.

"Did you?" he laughed before his face fell and his insecurity peeked out its head in his mind. He needed to get ahold of himself before he got his hopes up.

"I still can't do deeper scars but..." she admitted before trailing off when she noticed how he was withdrawing into himself.

"Hey, what's wrong?" she asked before mentally smacking herself upside the head. She was just winning the asking stupid questions game tonight, wasn't she?

"I have a scar too," she offered and he glanced at her in confusion, "Do you want to see?"

Before he could respond, she was pulling her shirt up and his eyes nearly bugged out of his head as smooth creamy flesh he'd never gotten a good look at before was exposed for his viewing pleasure. Not only was he allowed to look, he was expected to look and his little, very male heart could barely handle it.

"See? Where the jewel popped out," she commented oblivious to his inner struggle. It wasn't nearly as bad as she thought it was but it was still rather deep. The hot pink puckered blemish the only thing even remotely flawed about her stomach. His hand moved before he could stop himself. His calloused palm resting on her waist as his thumb gently caressed the mark. Trailing up and down over the scar while the sensation of his hand on her skin overwhelmed his system.

His eyes trailed over the light tan curves of her stomach. His mind trying to commit the sight to memory. Counting every freckle and taking note of every minute detail.

"Still beautiful," he whispered more to himself than her before he inhaled sharply and retracted his hand like it burned. He hadn't meant to say that out loud dammit. He hadn't...

"You...you think I'm beautiful?" Kagome asked softly and his heart plummeted to the bottom of his stomach as he waited for the axe to fall. Her hands lowering her shirt slowly as her sapphire eyes tried to read his mortified expression.

Smiling softly, she scooter closer to him and he flinched.

"You think I'm pretty," she teased and his humiliation only grew as he glared at the floor to his side. That was a stupid thing to say. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. St...

He gasped softly when her lips suddenly were pressed against his own. Each meeting slow and lingering and coaxing him to respond and with a soft groan he did.

Panting heavily several long heated moments later, he stared at her in utter confusion.

"Why'd you do that?" he managed to breathe.

"Because I think you're pretty too."

InuYasha snorted before pulling her in so he could kiss her again.

[wordsfromthesol]

Research Paper

Author: @wordsfromthesol Pairing: Tim Drake x Reader Summary:  You and Tim get assigned to complete a research paper together. The two of you end up spending way more time together than originally planned. Warnings:  Cursing and balls of fluff Word Count: 2k  A/N: I still have a few requests, they are coming I just haven’t had too much time to write new stuff...so I’ve been posting old stories I’ve already completed. 

The two of you sat at your dining room table, typing away at various research sites and scribbling down miscellaneous notes that could be helpful later. Finally, you looked up at your silent partner.

“So, why the rush to get this research paper done?”

“I’m busy. This is when I have time to do it.”

“Hm –” Before you could continue the thought, Tim cut you off.

“Look, I know you don’t want to be paired with the weird kid. Let’s just finish this and you don’t have to talk to me anymore.”

“Woah there Tim, relax. I don’t know anything about you. Especially not enough to qualify you as the weird kid.” You watched his face turn a slight shade of crimson. “Ya’know, there’s only 20 kids in this class. I bet if you actually talked to some of them you would make friends.” You got up from your seat and sauntered into the kitchen. “So weird kid, you want something to drink?”

“Oh…uhm…I’m fine.” You chuckled to yourself as he stuttered through his response.

“Well, if you insist on completing this in one night, I need some wine. Sure you don’t want a glass?”

“Okay…” Tim hesitantly responded.

**

The bottle was gone and you began to spiral down a YouTube worm hole. Clicking video after video, ending up on the ever popular topic of vigilantes. “Why do you think they do it?” You mumbled out loud, forgetting your research partner was still sitting across from you.

“Why does…” Tim tugged at your computer and glared at the screen before him. The video was paused on an image of Nightwing and Red Robin. He remembered that night. Mr. Freeze had armed some kind of mass freeze ray in the subway system. There were 5 casualties that night. His voice echoed throughout the room. “Sometimes the police aren’t enough. They have too much red tape or not enough training to handle certain criminals.”

“There’s just so many of them…”

“I think they need each other. Each one making sure the others don’t cross a line they can’t come back from. Keeping them responsible for their actions.”

“You think they aren’t just inherent do-gooders running around?”

“No. I don’t. This city is a toxin, no one born of it is inherently good. Everyone comes to a crossroads, some chose to go left and others, right. Once one goes to the left, you may never go back. However, those who chose to go right are always tempted to take a shortcut to the left. Even knowing they could never return.”

“Dang…you should write a book or something Tim.”

“Just a lot of experience I suppose?” You furrowed your brows and shot him a questioning look. “I was…uhm…rescued by Batman awhile back. Though not before my parents were poisoned.”

“I’m so sorry…” Your eyes cast to the ground as your hand reached across the table, landing atop of his. “I didn’t know.”

Tim brushed it off, “I didn’t expect you to know. I don’t advertise it. Anyways, how’s the ACTUAL research coming along.” You rolled your eyes and turned back towards your computer. 

**

Tim realized he hadn’t heard from you in awhile, so he glanced up from his computer. You were asleep at the table. His eyes shot over to the clock, 4:07am. “Shit.” He mumbled under his breath. Tim then sat there debating what to do for several minutes before pushing his chair back and taking you up in his arms. He laid you on your bed, draping the covers over you, before heading back into the dining room. Almost as soon as Tim sat back at his computer, his phone buzzed.

Don’t forget to get some sleep tonight, baby bird.

Dick had started sending reminders almost every night. Tim debated ignoring it, until more messages came in. Jason, Damian, Barbara, Stephanie, even Cassandra had texted him. Dick truly went all out tonight.

I swear if I have to listen to Dick complain about you not sleeping one more time, I will lose it. Go the fuck to sleep, replacement.

Drake, I was just informed to remind you to sleep tonight. May this serve as that reminder.

Dick just let me know you haven’t slept the past two nights. The body can only properly survive without three nights of sleep. Please sleep.

Timothy Jackson Drake. If you do not sleep tonight, I will be forced to take drastic action. One word: computer.

Don’t make me come knock you out.

Tim quickly sent a group message to everyone. Everyone calm down. It’s only been a day and a half. I’m going to sleep now. And Steph, don’t even look at my fucking computer. Tim sighed and threw himself on your couch, welcoming some much-needed sleep.

**

You woke up very confused. You glanced around your room, you definitely did not remember going to bed. You threw your legs over the side and noticed you were still completely dressed. What the fuck. Hesitantly, you opened your bedroom door. Your eyes darted around the room, noting the two computer still at the dining room table. Tip-toeing over to the living room, you saw Tim passed out on the couch, his phone buzzing beside him. You attempted to end the call, but it answered instead. Shit shit shit. You leapt as far from Tim as you could before whispering into the phone.

“Look I didn’t mean to answer this, but Tim is asleep…and he strikes me as the kind of person who doesn’t get much –” The man on the other end cut you off.

“I’m sorry, who is this? Why do you have my brother’s phone?”

“Oh…uhm…I’m in class with him. We were partnered on a research paper. He slept…is sleeping here.” You heard the man sigh before he continued.

“Do me a favor and try not to wake him, but tell him Dick called when he does get up.”

“Uh…sure…”

“Oh and put his phone on silent…actually I’ll just block the calls from here. Oh and thanks...I didn’t actually get your name.”

“Y/N.”

“Right, thanks again Y/N.”

You hung up the phone on the weirdest conversation ever and set it next to his computer. You snatched yours up and went back into your bedroom. Might as well get some work done while you waited for Tim to wake up. A few more hours passed and you heard footsteps coming from your living room. Thank god, I so need coffee. You threw open the door and saw Tim standing over his computer.

“Oh, uhm, sorry I slept here last night.”

You waved off the apology, “No problem. What time did we stop?”

“I noticed you were asleep at like 4 in the morning. So I…” Tim ran his finger through his hair, “I just figured the bed was more comfortable.” You smirked as you watched his face turn crimson. Stronger than he looks apparently. “Then I thought it was probably best not to leave that late…so I just crashed on the couch.”

“So we didn’t finish then? As in you better not have finished it without me.”

Tim held up his hands in defense. “No no, I stopped once I saw you were asleep.”

“Well…want coffee and some...” you glanced at the clock. It was nearly noon, “brunch I guess.”

“Oh, uh…if you’re offering? Then sure, I guess.”

“Great, then we can just finish up today.” You made your way to the kitchen, “Oh your brother called.”

Tim’s eyebrows furrowed, “which one?”

“You have multiple? Uh…Dick, I think he said.”

“Yeah, three of them. Do you mind if I call him back?”

You shook your head as you put on the coffee. Tim grabbed the phone from the table and went into your bathroom.

“Dick? Is something wrong?”

“Nah, Alfred just told me you hadn’t been back to the Manor yet. Wanted to make sure we didn’t need to send search and rescue.”

“I’m fine. Listen, do you mind if you cover my patrol tonight?”

“Oh, hot date with Y/N?”

“How do you – nevermind. No, we are finishing a project.”

“Hm, whatever you want to tell yourself Timmy. She seemed sweet on you though.”

“How – who even says that anymore? Are you 60 years old?”

“Awe, look who’s deflecting.”

“Bye Dick!” Tim screamed into the phone before hanging up on his brother.

**

After brunch was had, the two of you got back to work. However, it didn’t take long for you to get sidetracked.

“Alright, if I sit in this damn chair for another minute I’m going to have permanent back problems. I’m moving to the couch.” You huffed out, before scooping up your computer and plopping down sideways with your back against the armrest. Surprisingly, Tim joined you, propping is feet up on the coffee table. Once the two of you moved to the couch, no more work got done.

“So you close with your family?” You began the barrage of questions. People often called you out for being nosy, but you still couldn’t help it.

“Oh,” Tim glanced up from his computer. “Yeah, I suppose. Too close sometimes.”

“Eh, they wouldn’t be family otherwise. I gather you have a big one?”

“What are we playing 20 questions?”

“Just curious…”

Tim huffed, but began to answer your question anyways. “Yeah, I guess. Though it’s a family forged from bonds, not blood.”

“I’d say that’s the better kind. You chose to stay with and support them, as opposed to being guilted into it because they’re family.”

“Well that clearly struck a chord.”

You shrugged it off, “So three brothers. Blood or bond?”

“Well…a forced bond? Bruce adopted all of us, except Damian I guess.”

You continued to pose questions to your newfound friend, though you found getting most answers was like pulling teeth. Eventually, you made progress and after a few hours you closed your laptop, which had been long since asleep, and tossed it to the floor. “I vote take away and a movie.”

“But we haven’t finished.” Tim argued.

“And I don’t think we are going to tonight. Come on, we still have a month. Relax a little, we’re like 75% done anyways.”

“I –” Before he could protest further you pulled yourself off the couch and reached for your phone.

“I vote Thai.”

You heard a sigh come from the other end of the couch, “Sounds good.” A smile grazed your face as you placed the order and settled comfortably back on the couch. You turned on the movie and didn’t realize you were laying half on Tim until the doorbell roused you. This time it was your turn to don a shade of red. Thankfully, it was too dark for Tim to see.

**

The food was gone and the movie continued to play in the background, but the two of you were fast asleep laying against each other. That was, until Tim heard a knock on the window. He looked up to see the familiar costumes of his older brothers. He gently held you in place with one arm, while stretching to grab his phone with the other. Tim quickly typed a message.

I’m clearly alive. Leave me the fuck alone.

Tim saw Dick smirk through the window just before a bright white light shone through. Tim’s phone buzzed.

Look Timbers found someone to put up with him.

Of course Jason just had to send that in the group message. Tim typed out his response.

I’m muting this conversation until further notice. Also I’m never telling you guys where I am ever again.

That’s alright, I’m sure Y/N won’t mind telling me. We had a great conversation earlier.

Tim ignored the baited message Dick sent and threw his phone to the other side of the couch before settling back into the comfortable position at your side.  

[simplybakugou]

Off the Deep End

↝ In a world of supernatural and all powerful quirks, Bakugou is baffled when he has to help a mermaid save her kingdom against his arch nemesis.

PROMPT: “You’re a what now?!”

⋆ PAIRING: prohero!bakugou x mermaid!reader ⋆ WARNINGS/TAGS: swearing ⋆ WORD COUNT: 6011

A/N: Here’s my submission for the @bnhabookclub​ mermay event! I may or may not have made Monoma the villain because it was funny to me I swear that I don’t hate him lmao. Also I’m sorry if this is probably the worst thing you’ve ever read lol

Tagging: @sipsteainanxiety​ shay thank you for your sweet words during our sprints. I hope you enjoy this :)

✐posted 5.31.2020✐

“I can’t believe I’m listening to your bullshit right now,” Bakugou grumbled into his phone over the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks, looking around the dock. 

“Dude, Sero and I are telling you that there’s something really weird happening around there!” Kaminari urged on the other line, the panic evident in his voice. “I read that so many people patrolled in that area and they said that something fishy’s going on. Just check it out for me?”

Bakugou laughed. “Are you too fucking scared to check it out yourself?”

“No!” Kaminari blurted in annoyance. “It’s just… electricity and water aren’t a good combination.”

“Sounds like a fucking excuse to me but whatever. I’ll see what you’re whining about.” Bakugou hung up shortly after, shoving the device into his back pocket as he walked along the wooden panels. He scanned the area, not seeing anything out of the ordinary or anything to be frightful for. That idiot’s complaining for nothin’...

The only peculiar thing about this sector was that usually docks and ports would have various boats attached to it but this had nothing, just a wooden walkway staring right into the mouth of the ocean. Bakugou shrugged, assuming that his friends were blindly believing blatantly idiotic rumors. He wouldn’t be surprised if this was a prank they were trying to pull either as the pair would often mess around with him and attempt to send him off on wild goose chases.

With that thought in mind, Bakugou walked off into the opposite direction, making his way towards his car so he could get back to his agency until the sound of laughter stopped him in his tracks, one that sounded like bells ringing and echoing in the air. He spun around, eyes averting in all directions to try and locate the source of the melodic laughter. The area was abandoned and the sun beaming in the sky would reveal anyone roaming around easily. That was why Bakugou was even more baffled when the sound repeated, loud enough to be heard over the collision of the splashing waves. 

Not thinking twice, Bakugou approached the source of the sound, believing that this was what Kaminari and Sero were so afraid of. He got to the end of the dock, his feet on the edge as he attempted to search for the mysterious voice once more.

“What the fuck am I even doing here?” Bakugou grumbled to himself, deciding to head back after failing to find the voice and once again annoyed with himself for even coming here in the first place.

“Whoa, I didn’t think people actually came on this side of the portside anymore,” a voice quipped just as Bakugou was walking away.

He turned around, taking a few steps back as he gasped to see a person in the water, smiling up at him. “The fuck you think you’re doing?! It’s too dangerous to be in the water!”

You were taken aback by his sudden concern, your lips curling upwards in amusement. “Now this is odd. It’s not everyday a human is worried about me.”

“What are you--” Bakugou stopped as he saw you dove underwater, causing Bakugou to toss his shoes and phone to the side. Even if he was off duty for his job, he was still a hero and he wouldn’t let anyone drown themselves, no matter how stupid they were for doing so.

Just as he was about to begrudgingly jump into the water, your head popped back up, even more amused than you were before. A human was willing to risk his life to save you. Bakugou sighed, irritated that he was even entertaining you or that you were pleased by this in the first place. “You think this is funny? Just get out of the fucking water, you’re wasting my time.”

You laughed, the sound ringing in Bakugou’s ears. “I’m sorry, maybe this will make more sense if I do this.”

Before Bakugou could question what you were doing this time, you swam over to the edge of the dock, hoisting yourself up over one of the many ginormous boulders lodged into the side. Bakugou nearly choked at the sight before him, feeling like his eyes were deceiving him.

But it was not a deception. There you were, sitting atop the boulder, with two shells covering your chest and the rest of your upper body adorned with miniature seashells. Your lower half was inhuman as a large tail, iridescent hues of blue and purple sheen covering it. 

“As you can see I’m not human, so you don’t have to worry about me,” you said, grinning from ear-to-ear, completely beguiled by his flabbergasted expression. It was always funny whenever humans reacted this way to seeing you, although it had been years since you’d last seen a human. “I’m a mermaid.”

“Y-You’re a what now?!” Bakugou asked, absolutely bewildered. When Kaminari had informed him about odd occurrences happening in this dock in the past, Bakugou suspected anything but a mermaid to appear.

You maneuvered down the boulder using your arms, settling back in the water and swimming closer to the dock to get a better look at Bakugou. He took a step back, flustered by how intense your staring was. “W-What? Why’re you giving me that weird ass look?”

You chuckled, resting your head in your hands. “The last times humans showed up in this part, they came because they wanted to see the ‘legend’ of the mermaids that live here. And everytime I had to deal with those humans, I had to scare them off so that my people could live in peace. This is the first time someone has come here without any ill intentions.”

Bakugou took a small step forward, looking down to verify once more that your tail was real and not a figment of his imagination. You giggled, lifting your tail up slightly above the water. “It’s real. You weren’t imagining anything.”

Bakugou felt disconcerted by this whole situation, unable to comprehend what to do or how to go about this. He knew he had to return to work soon but he didn’t know how to just walk away from this knowing that you were a full fledged mermaid. You rose a brow at him. “You’re not going to go to your friends and have them come down here, are you? Because I’m really not looking to have a fight with anyone.”

Bakugou shook his head slowly. “It’s none of their business to come down here. I just came ‘cause my friend’s a fucking pussy and was nagging me to check out this area.”

You smiled, grateful and also a little surprised that a human had no desire to exploit you and your species’ existence. “I appreciate it. You know… you’re not that bad. I’ve always despised you humans for everything that you’ve done, but I think you’re pretty okay.”

Bakugou scoffed, looking off to the side. “Whatever.”

You laughed at his reaction, looking up at him and taking in his features. He looked nothing like any human you’d ever seen. His hair was spiky, not budging against the rhythm of the wind beating against it. His eyes were the brightest, most intense shade of scarlet red, making you feel intimidated just by one look. And yet he was handsome, too. 

“You’re really pretty, you know that?” You said bluntly. 

Bakugou’s eyes widened, his cheeks inflamed. “Shut up! Just mind your business and do whatever fish shit you do. I’m leaving.”

You watched as he stomped off, ten times more amused than you were before. He was interesting to say the least, and you were hoping that he would keep his word and not bring any unwanted attention to your existence. But somehow, you felt like you could trust this beautiful stranger.

***

Since that day, Bakugou felt himself physically and mentally drawn to the dock. He started out by stopping by occasionally, curious to see you once more. Your mere existence intrigued him, although he would never admit it. Slowly with time, his visits became more frequent and you began catching him in his act. So you joined him, talking to the only human you’d ever met that was curious about you solely because he wanted to get to know you.

And you wanted to know more about him, often finding yourself waiting by the boulders for his visits. And the more you two met, the more you learned about one another. It was your first time meeting a pro hero, understanding why Bakugou felt obligated to help you when first meeting you.

And Bakugou learned about you and your kingdom. You were a princess of an underwater kingdom called Coara, guarding your kingdom from prying and nosy humans, many of whom were scientists who would go as far as wanting to dissect you and your people if they had gotten their grubby hands on you. Bakugou frowned whenever he heard the anger in your voice when voicing your opinion on how aggravated and fed up you had been with such pestering people. 

You were interesting to say the least. Most people’s first impressions of Bakugou were mostly negative, people often complaining about his abrasiveness or that he was too rude for their liking. But not to you. Even the way he spoke to you was intriguing for you, you finding yourself into him even more than you already were.

But the more you thought about him and were around him, the more you felt unsettled by your new friendship. All your life you had worked to gain this peace that had finally remained. You warned yourself that humans were bad news, vowing to reprimand anyone who so much as approached this area. And yet you wanted to be around Bakugou more and more, feeling disappointed if he didn’t show up on certain days due to his demanding occupation.

And just like any other day, you waited by the boulders, growing impatient as the sun had begun to set, casting an orange hue over the sea. “He’s late…” you muttered to yourself, returning back underwater for the remainder of the night.

Although Bakugou had informed you previously that his job had irregular working times, meaning it was never certain that he was free on certain days, you felt annoyed with him. In fact, for the past few days he hadn’t shown up at your usual spot. Since he never had any way of contacting you, as you were a mermaid and had no reason to be acquainted with human-made technological devices like cell phones, Bakugou was never able to tell you when he wouldn’t be able to see you. If he were being completely honest, he still couldn’t believe that he was regularly meeting with a mermaid in the first place. 

So for his lack of visits, you decided to take matters into your own hands.

“I really don’t think this is a good idea, Y/N,” one of your closest friends urged, looking around the dock as it had been quite some time since she had even bothered to go above the surface from the safety of her underwater home.

You waved her off. “It’s fine, Alicia. As long as no one else finds out about this, which is why I trust that you won’t say a word about this to the others.”

Alicia scoffed. “Of course not, Your Highness.”

You gave her a look as she laughed at you teasingly. “You know you’re the only one allowed to not call me that because it weirds me out when you say it.”

She grinned, throwing her arm over your shoulder. “That’s because we’ve been stuck to the hip since day one! I’d do anything for you.”

You smiled softly, looking around the area once more to confirm that no one was watching or listening in. Then you reached over to the dock, pulling yourself up with the help of Alicia pushing the rear of your tail. Twisting your body around you sat back, flexing your tail above water.

“No turning back now!” You exclaimed, placing your hands on your tail and activating your quirk. As you were a mermaid, you still were born with quirks like humans. Similar to how some animals have intellectual type quirk that allow them to communicate with humans, you still had a quirk. Your quirk was Legs, giving you the ability to provide yourself and others with human legs at your command. You could also take them away at will and this quirk only benefited those who didn’t already have legs. It was an odd quirk but it was yours. It was often used in the past, back when the people of Coara were interested in human life, and you and your mother had the same quirk. It was tradition that the first daughter of the royal family inherited this quirk as a means to make amends with the humans. But since you had taken the throne, the selfish science oriented humans had no intention of keeping an alliance as they only wanted to probe and dissect you and your people for their own benefits. It had been years since the last scientist had caused trouble, leaving you and your kingdom with a short period of peace.

And you had every intention of keeping the peace.

Using your quirk, your fingertips created an amber glow, adorning your lustrous tail into two legs. You groaned, stretching your new limbs out in the air. “It’s been a while since I’ve had these. I need to stretch them out.”

Alicia chuckled, retrieving the mound of seaweed she had collected per your request. Her quirk gave her the ability to make cloth and clothing out of any form of vegetation and plants. She needed to utilize her quirk as you couldn’t just waltz around the city with only a shell bra covering your chest and nothing covering your lower body.

“It’s pretty hot out now so I made something more freeing for you to wear,” Alicia said, handing your clothes. You quickly changed into them, slipping on your underwear, top, and shorts. She even made a pair of simple sandals out of coral and branches. In no time, you were ready to head out into the city.

“You really like him, huh?” Alicia asked, staring up at you as you rose to your feet. 

You rolled your eyes at her. “We’re friends. He’s the first person I’ve met since I was a child, roaming around the human world by my mother’s side, that has shown genuine compassion and interest in our people.”

Alicia sighed. She knew that this was more than a newfound friendship, however, you were too blinded to understand how you truly felt about Bakugou yourself. Even he didn’t know how he felt about you. “Just be careful. Please.”

You smiled, crouching down in front of her. “It’ll be alright. Trust me. I just want to see him for just a second and I’ll return as soon as possible!”

“Alright. Tell your boyfriend I said ‘hi’!” Alicia called out teasingly, earning a glare from you as you strode off towards the city.

***

It took about twenty minutes for you to find your way into the city as it had been quite some time since your last visit. Nevertheless you made your way through, stopping and asking bystanders for directions to Bakugou’s agency.

On the other hand, Bakugou obviously didn’t suspect a thing. He was patrolling around the sector as he usually did, keeping an eye out for peculiar events. Kirishima joined him that day, walking beside him as the two men strode through the city. 

“It’s not everyday that we’re asked to patrol together,” Kirishima commented, waving to a fan who was quite excited for his favorite hero to be out and about in public.

“Makes my life easier so I can leave early,” Bakugou responded as the two turned the corner.

Kirishima glanced over at him. “Why, you got someone you’ve been dying to see?”

Bakugou was startled, regaining his composure to not give any hints. How did he know? “The fuck are you talking about? I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Come on, ever since Kaminari and Sero made you go to that weird place you always seem too busy to hang out with us.” Kirishima looked over at Bakugou as he seemed irritated. He didn’t want anyone to find out about your existence, understanding that you and your people’s lives would be put in danger. And he didn’t know what he would do with himself if he were responsible for anything that could happen to you.

Before Kirishima could prod any further into the matter, the two heroes stopped in their tracks, Bakugou personally getting ever more agitated than he already was at the sight of Monoma standing in their path.

“Monoma, I didn’t know you were in town,” Kirishima said.

Monoma smirked. “I’ve been around. More importantly, looks like Mr. Number One here is going to fall down in the rankings soon enough.”

Bakugou didn’t bother responding, ignoring him and walking right past him, causing Monoma to be taken aback. He turned around, staring Bakugou down. “You’re not even concerned with what I just said?”

Bakugou turned his head around, glaring at Monoma. “I don’t give a single flying fuck about whatever it is you’re running your trap for. I’ve got better things to do than hear you spew out some weird ass bullshit.”

Kirishima stifled his laughter, catching up to Bakugou with a few strides. Monoma’s agency had tried for years now to help Monoma reach his way up to the rankings, only able to reach the number two spot and falling short from Bakugou himself. Bakugou was simply the indisputable best, no matter how hard Monoma tried to dethrone him from the rankings.

And this absolutely infuriated him.

Monoma huffed, annoyed with the blonde who had gotten on his nerves since their days back in U.A. “I guess the rumors are true. You’ve changed these last few months. I wonder why that is…”

Bakugou stopped walking, now a few feet away from Monoma. He didn’t like the way he spoke, his words indicating that he was keeping something from him. For the final time he turned his head, staring daggers in Monoma's direction. “Keep worrying about falling from the rankings instead of being up my ass all the fucking time, dipshit.”

Bakugou kept moving, Kirishima keeping up with his pace as the pair made their way back to Bakugou’s agency. Kirishima chuckled. “Man, I’ve never really liked Monoma but he’s been pretty obsessed with you ever since you were named number one. It’s a little weird if you ask me.”

“I can barely remember that fucker’s name. I really don’t give a shit about what he does, so long as he’s not bothering me,” Bakugou mumbled as the two of them waited by the stoplight at the intersection in front of the agency. The light finally changed to green and Bakugou and Kirishima crossed the street, opening the giant glass doors to the building. Kirishima went over to the receptionists, filing any reports they had to complete.

“Ground Zero, there’s someone here who wanted to see you,” one of the receptionists said. “She’s waiting in the office.”

“Alright,” Bakugou said, mentally agitated as he didn’t want to deal with anyone right now. Nevertheless, he made his way down the hall and into his office, prepared to meet an annoying official working for the government or a crazed reporter that somehow was able to break into his agency. But he was pleasantly surprised to see a woman’s back facing him as he entered his office.

“What is this about?” Bakugou asked the woman curtly.

You turned around, causing Bakugou to nearly stop breathing. He didn’t know how, but you looked even more stunning standing in front of him than you did in your mermaid form. Your hair was slightly damp, the locks curling upwards. But your skin was practically gleaming against the light in the room, your smile sealing the deal that could cause Bakugou’s heart to palpitate irregularly in no time.

Just as he thought you couldn’t amaze him more, you did tenfold. “H-How the…”

You laughed, amused like you always were with the way he tended to be speechless by your mere presence. “Surprised to see me? I thought I’d pay a visit.”

Bakugou was absolutely bewildered, eyes widened and mouth agape with incredulity. “But you’re a fucking mermaid? Where’s your tail? How are you standing? What--”

“I have a quirk that lets me turn my tail into legs,” you stated blankly. “It’s nothing too special, my family has had a long line of inheritance with this quirk and I decided to use it since it’s been a while.”

“And why did you come? I was gonna stop by today,” Bakugou asked, waiting and wanting to hear you say what he wanted to hear.

You paused momentarily, your (E/C) eyes boring into his vermillion ones. You visually travelled down his figure, taking in his hero costume that you hadn’t seen previously. His biceps bulged out, his stature taller than what you had expected. He was even more handsome standing before than he was sitting beside you.

Bakugou felt himself blush under your obvious staring as you didn’t want to mask what you were doing or how you were feeling. You looked back into his eyes. “I missed you, Bakugou. I can’t explain why, but I missed you. And I couldn’t stand waiting idly by for you to come to me. So here I am.”

Before Bakugou could be even more flustered than he already was, the door to his office opened wide, a certain dark-haired man swinging his arm around Bakugou. “It’s been a while, man! Where have you been?” Sero exclaimed excitedly. Kirishima stood behind him at the door and the two men finally acknowledged you, shocked to see such a stunning woman in Bakugou’s office. Sero had stopped by as Kirishima had texted him, letting him know that he and Bakugou were back in the agency. But they were both pleasantly surprised by your presence.

Sero looked over at Bakugou, recognizing the light pink tinted on his cheeks as he smirked, putting two and two together. “Man, so this is what you’ve been doing recently!”

Bakugou glared at him, shaking Sero off him. As he knew two of his closest friends well enough to understand that they would pester you and bombard you with thousands of questions, he took matters into his own hands by grabbing your forearm and leading you out of the office.

Ignoring Kirishima and Sero’s shouts behind him as well as the stares he received from his receptionists, Bakugou led you out of the building and back to the streets. You looked down at where Bakugou was holding you, his hand still warm under his gloves. It was the first time a human had touched you.

Once he could confirm that his friends weren’t behind him following him, Bakugou let go of you, keeping his distance but still walking beside you. He looked off to the side, not wanting you to see his inflamed face. “I’ll walk you back to the dock. It’s not safe for you here.”

You smiled at him. “I appreciate your concern but you don’t have to worry about me. I’ve been amongst humans like this before.”

“Just… let me do this for you, alright?” Bakugou urged gently.

Regardless you nodded, smiling to yourself. Humans were more interesting than they had seemed before, or at least Bakugou was in a league of his own. You wanted to know everything about him, you wanted to constantly be around him, and he was all that was on your mind lately. You were slowly understanding that what you were feeling for him was crossing the line from friendship to something more and it frightened you. All your life you had known humans to be vile, selfish creatures who would do anything for their own gain. But here you were walking beside the most considerate man you’d ever met, exceeding the mermen of your kingdom in both looks and personality. 

But as much as you liked him, you didn’t want to pry any further. He was still a human and you were a ruler of a kingdom. You had decided to end things here, savoring and basking in the moment as much as you could until you had to finally cut all ties with Bakugou. And you knew when that moment would arrive, you wouldn’t be able to recover for a while. You had spent almost every evening with him on that dock, your special place with him, talking for hours upon hours. You liked how flustered he would get whenever you complimented his looks or how proud he seemed when he spoke about his occupation and passion. You could hear him talk, even if he was just cursing someone out, all day long. But soon enough, you would never hear from him again.

You shook your head, wanting to rid your mind of such saddening thoughts, deciding to change the subject instead. “Is it okay to leave your friends like that?”

“They’ll live. Your secret is more important right now,” Bakugou said, not realizing how touched you had been by his words. He truly had every intention of keeping your identity a secret and the more you were around him, the more you were falling for him. This was slowly becoming a dangerous situation, but you didn’t care, not in the moment at least. 

You looked down at your feet as the two of you made your way back to the dock, the amount of people around you decreasing as you got closer. And the closer you got, the more despondent you became as you realized this was the last moment you would have with him.

“What’s wrong?” Bakugou asked, snapping you away from your thoughts.

You looked up at him abruptly, his scarlet eyes penetrating right through your soul and being. You smiled reassuringly. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” Bakugou looked over at you, deciding to drop the subject once the two of you finally reached the dock.  

As you grew closer, a blonde man who you didn’t recognize stood on the dock, looking around the area. He was particularly looking down into the water, directly above your kingdom. You felt your heart stop as you began to become frantic that your home was found.

Bakugou extended his arm in front of you, ceasing your footsteps as you moved to confront the man. “Don’t go. You’ll get in danger. I’ll deal with him.” You looked at Bakugou, who had an expression you had never seen. He was calm and yet his nostrils were flared. You knew he was livid. 

Bakugou trudged towards the man, infuriated to see Monoma poking his nose where he didn’t belong. “The fuck do you think you’re doing here?”

Monoma smirked, looking beyond Bakugou’s shoulder to see you, staring you up and down and intently at your legs. You felt disgusted by his gaze, wanting to jump back into the water as soon as possible.

Monoma flicked his gaze back to Bakugou. “The rumors are that you’ve got a girlfriend which is why you’ve been slacking off recently. So I followed you over here a few days ago to see that you’ve got a mermaid by your side now. Even more interesting…” His voice trailed off and he smirked at you as you grimaced under his stare. “She looks exactly like a human.”

He let out a bellowing laugh, exasperating Bakugou even more than he already did with his presence alone. “It’d be a shame if more people found out about this…”

Bakugou didn’t hesitate or think twice to grab Monoma by the collar, his fingers curling against the fabric as uncontrollable sparks emerged from both hands. “If you even think about opening your trap up about this I’ll rip you apart limb from fucking limb.”

Although Monoma wouldn’t admit it, he was slightly intimidated by Bakugou’s threat, but even more so he found this whole situation to have been a stroke of luck. He knew exactly what he had to do. Monoma brought his hand up, grabbing Bakugou’s forearm that was clutching his collar. “Tell you what, I’ll let this whole thing go. If I’m being honest,” his eyes whipped over to you, causing a shiver to go down your spine, “I really don’t give a damn about you and your fish people. That’s the last thing I care about. I’ll let this all go… on one condition.”

“Spit it out, you bitch, you’re testing my patience,” Bakugou snarled through gritted teeth. 

Monoma chuckled humorlessly, smirking at you once more. You felt disgusted and defeated all at once. You had promised your people that this was a time for peace, that you wouldn’t let the humans that you hated so much ruin anything for you and your kingdom. And here was a human threatening the life of Coara like the lives of the mermaids and mermen meant nothing and were replaceable. 

You wanted to despise humans as much as you had before, but you couldn’t. Not when Bakugou was a human as well.

“I’ll let this go… if you give up your ranking.” Monoma laughed once more, feeling Bakugou’s grip loosen from the shock. 

Bakugou had worked day and night, protecting civilians left and right and defeating any villain that came his way to be number one. Even you understood this as Bakugou had explained hero rankings and how hard he worked. You could see he was a respectable man who would do anything to show others his worth. And here was a spineless bastard trying to rip it all away from Bakugou. 

Monoma shook Bakugou’s hand from him, smirking cruelly at him. “You see, I know you won’t give up your ranking for some rotten fish. Either way, I’m going to enjoy watching your little girlfriend’s life crumble before your very eyes--”

Before Monoma could yap and run his mouth more than he already had, Bakugou sent a right hook flying, contacting Monoma’s jaw and pummeling him to the floor of the wooden dock. You gasped, not suspecting him to do that, and took a few steps towards him. He turned his head at you, raising his hand to stop you from getting closer. He didn’t know what Monoma would do to you just to spite him. You felt hopeless, wanting to help Bakugou and your people were still in the back of your mind. What was the right thing to do in this situation? What could you do?

Monoma spit the blood out from his mouth, wiping his bloodied lip and rose to his feet. He cackled once more. “I knew you were too much of a coward to do--”

“I’ll do it,” Bakugou said in one breath, causing you and Monoma to be appalled.

“Bakugou! Don’t do it!” You called out in concern. You would do anything for your people but not at the expense of years of hard work Bakugou had put in. 

Bakugou ignored you momentarily. “I’ll give it up, my ranking. But if you take back your work I’ll fucking--”

Monoma rose a hand up in the air to cease his threats. “Don’t worry about that, I don’t give a damn about you or your girlfriend.” He extended his hand out at Bakugou, grinning in absolute delight. “We have a deal?”

Bakugou stared at his pale hand, his own fists clenching at his sides. Even so, he didn’t hesitate to shake hands with his nemesis, gripping his hand as tightly as he could. Monoma winced, wriggling his hand from Bakugou’s hold and rubbing it once he got free. Monoma laughed once more, walking past Bakugou and towards you. You stepped to the side, wanting to avoid him at all costs. He looked down at you, smirking. “For some rotten fish, you’re pretty hot.”

You wanted to puke from anger and disgust, staring daggers into his back as he walked away with delight and glee. Monoma waved his hand back. “I’ll send the paperwork to your office tonight, Ground Zero.”

Once he was a considerable distance from you, you ran towards Bakugou, joining him on the dock. “Why did you do that? Why would you give your ranking up?”

Bakugou sighed, looking down at the water and the boulders that you always sat upon during your frequent meetings. He slipped his gloves, boots, and socks off, sitting on the edge of the dock and dipping his feet into the water. You watched as he did so, not understanding his silence. Nonetheless, you joined him, slipping off the sandals Alicia made you and sitting right beside him. This was the closest the two of you had ever physically been.

“It didn’t feel right,” Bakugou said, avoiding your eye contact. “It’s my fucking fault that dipshit found out. I couldn’t just walk away knowing that I was putting you in danger.”

You smiled softly, shaking your head. “I’ve dealt with idiots like him before. I would’ve been fine. But you worked so hard to get where you are now.”

Bakugou turned to face you, his eyes just as intense as they always were. “You don’t get it. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to you. A ranking is a fucking ranking. I know I’m the best, that fucknut weaseled his way into becoming the new number one now. But your life means more to me than that.”

You were astonished, blown away by his selflessness. But Bakugou didn’t recognize his actions as being selfless as he continued blaming himself for putting your life in danger. And you recognized this by his hurt expression as he was physically grimacing. You smiled, lifting your hand up and cupping his cheek. Your palms were cold against Bakugou’s cheek, sending tingles down his spine, but your fingertips held the softest touch. “You’re amazing, Bakugou. This isn’t your fault. I don’t blame you, not even a little bit. I chose to see you everyday, I could’ve just stayed in my palace if I didn’t want to see you. But I came here because I like being around you.”

Bakugou stared at you, basking in your beauty. He had never met anyone like you as you were truly a one of kind being. You were tenderhearted, a leader, ambitious, and driven for others. Bakugou knew by now that he had no control over his feelings for you, not giving a damn about the consequences. He wanted to hold you, protect you against anyone who would even think of harming you.

“Do you regret being with me? Do you regret meeting with a human that could harm your people?” Bakugou questioned.

You shook your head, not hesitating to answer immediately. “There isn’t a fiber in me that feels that way. Being with you has given me faith in humanity.” You took back your thoughts earlier, knowing full well you couldn’t abandon him now, not when he protected you.

Bakugou nodded. “Alright. Then don’t mind when I do this.”

Before you could let the words ‘do what?’ escape from your lips, Bakugou closed the gap between the two of you, gently locking your lips with his own. It was a pleasant surprise, making you realize that humans were softer than they seemed. He smelled of burnt sugar, locking in how sweet he truly was. He was gentle despite how caustic he seemed to others. But you knew him, you had spent months with him, and you had no intention of letting him go now.

You pulled away, your chest rising and falling slowly. He was beautiful, more beautiful than you could ever describe into words. You were willing to go off the deep end for him, the stunning human who risked his career for your life. And you had no intention of leaving him.

[oh-for-fic-sake]

The Neighbors Son

You meet your new neighbors son.

Masterlist

Warnings: Swearing, Mature-ish, angst

A/n: so this is the start of my Clark Kent Imagine series that will sort of run alongside my Bruce Wayne ones, I re-wrote this about eight times so hope you like the final result as for the health insurance I'm British so have no idea how it works I just went along the lines of how car insurance works here.

Taglist: @two-unbeatable-beaters​ @thatgirly81​

The Neighbors Son

Martha chuckled as you sat at her kitchen table grumbling over the papers in front of you.

"You do you lot have to do things so weird?! What the hell is this shit ?And what the fuck does that word even mean. Its not a word that's the fucking alphabet in the wrong order! THEY MADE UP NEW WORDS Martha can you take me out back and shoot me please? At this point I think that's my only option" You grunted resting your head on the table. Martha sighed rolling her eyes at your dramatic display you felt her slip the paper from underneath your head.

"Just whats gotten you so work up now girl..... Health insurance? Well its about damn time! You've been here four months .....I can see why this can seem difficult." She scanned the documents and slapped the side of your head making you sit up.

"Come on up, right this one is the best value but doesn't cover dental or opticians, so you have to pay for them, but it covers illness and emergancey care, if you choose the next one up you’ll get that and it also covers for maternity care." She pointed out the different options, you knew that you’d been lucky in England to have the nhs but until now you didn't know just how lucky.

"Can I upgrade? Like at a later date if I wanna have a one?" The older woman scanned the documents.

"Yes but you wont be able to claim anything for prenatal or maternity for at least six months after adding it to the policy." You nodded you didn't really see yourself accidentally falling pregnant for that you'd need to have sex and you've been on a dry spell since being here. You nodded taking the paper from her."So I will just do that then"  you said wanting it over and done with she sighed at you crossing her arms giving you 'the look' that every woman got when she became a mother."How many have you looked at?" You shrunk under her stern gaze and rubbed the back of your neck nervously.

"Errr so far? In total? One" she sighed shaking her head at you, before pouring you both another coffee setting it in front of you,she hadn't realized how lonley she had been once the farm house across the field had been empty not until you had moved in, all the way from England you had bought the house with your inheritance selling most of the fields to others in the area just keeping a small two acres around the house for yourself. She had met you the day you moved in coming over to introduce herself see if you needed help, you both instantly hit it off and it wasn't long before she was looking out for you. It was hard for you to adjust to life here, loosing your dad was bad but she then found out that your mother had caused major problems practically chasing you out of the country, the woman had been unhappy with the will and wanted her 'half' tho it wasn't millions it was enough for you to live comfortably in the end you'd had to move as she kept coming around to the house causing problems and harassing you for money, you'd had to get away far away so settled in Kansas. It was different but a welcome change, slower and laid back sure sometimes you missed not being in the Hustle and bustle but you had everything you need, a comfy house ,decent car and an income from your books, you was an author writing adult books, tales of gorgeous cowboys, dominant business men and mafia king pin's all falling in love with the women of their dreams with erotic twists and scenes that would make a porn star blush. Martha had been a huge help since you got here ,she had taken you under her wing watching over you and you'd become fast friends, always finding yourselves at each others houses helping each other out. You groaned as she shook her head at you knowing the look. There was a lecture coming.

"That’s just silly, you should look around compare prices and policies, it could save you a lot of money in the long run, especially you i mean your a trouble magnet how you haven't already ended up in ER I don't know?" You smiled sweetly at her

"Because a have a kind and loving neighbor to patch me up" you said casting a look to the scar on your arm where she had sewed you up after a nasty fall on some farming equipment in the barn. She huffed at you rolling her eyes kids. And you was a kid only twenty seven years old younger then her Clark, sometimes she asked you why you don't go into town and meet some people your age you'd always cringe and shiver saying that they were to immature or just banged on about marriage and kids, which neither interested you in the slightest you were quite happy with things the way they were. Martha looked up as the dog perked up outside whining and yipping happily before she heard him

"Ma? You here?" She smiled as he entered the house wrapping her up in his arms she hugged him back.

"Clark? What are you doing here?"  She pulled back a little seeing him upset she cupped his face.

"Oh god whats wrong? Is everything okay? Whats happened?"

"Its Lois...we had an argument I had to leave her Ma, its over she couldn't see past the super-" Martha quickly shushed him as You stood awkwardly thinking it better to leave not wanting to intrude. The man snapped his head in your direction releasing his mum and you were floored he was stunning, sure she had showed you photos of her son but they didn't do any justice. Tall broad and strong his biceps were fucking huge his chest tapered into a perfect v, dark hair hanging in messy curls atop his head some falling forward just skimming his eyes that were a glistening bright blue you felt your pussy clench violently. Fuck. You was so lost that you failed to notice him staring right back at you it was Martha clearing her throat that snapped you both out of what ever trance you'd both been put you under.

"Cheers for the coffee but I should get back and leave two to catch up, anyway this next chapter isn't gonna write itself..... at this point I don't think I’m gonna write it either." You said with a chuckle Martha turned to you putting her hands on her hips.

"Oh no you don't, your going park you butt right there and stay here to search other quotes" you gaped at her looking to her son he held up his hands staying out of it.

"Don't you go looking to him,he wont help you" you huffed crossing your arms

"Did you just give me homework? It sounds like you gave me home work." She nodded

"Damn right, health insurance is a big deal and you don't just pick the first one that pop's up on the internet" you pouted at her trying to change her mind she just stared you down tilting her head then you threw your hands up.

"Oh for fuck sake, fine I will look Jesus Christ" she nodded smiling not missing the way you and Clark was stealing glances at one another, well you stole glances Clark was out right staring. She slapped him upside the head.

"Don’t be rude son introduce yourself" he stuttered shyly flushing at being scolded before holding out a hand towards you quickly.

"Er Clark Kent nice to meet you Mrs?" You took his hand not surprised by how warm it was I mean this guy was hot, it only made sense right?.

"Miss Y/n Y/L/N but just call me Y/n everyone does....apart from your mum she calls me 'a pain in the ass'" he chuckled

"Then we already have something in common" you laughed as Martha motioned for you both to sit at the table smiling knowingly, she saw how Clark couldn't look away how the sorrow in his eyes disappeared as he looked at you. Clark couldn't tear his eyes away from you he gulped eyes raking over your form his mouth gone dry speechless. Wow. You was very attractive like you walked out of one of his fantasies, a tiny homely looking girl light tan with deep chocolate wavy hair in a short bob twisted in a half up do, tiny bun in the back with a few loose strands framing your small face that had a dusting of freckles from being out in the sun, tho he guessed that some were more permanent as they didn'tstop on your face trailing down into you blouse, his breathing hitched as his eyes couldn't help peeking seeing the tops of you breasts spilling over the cups of your bra as you slouched over the table barely resting your elbow on it due to how small you was. His cock twitched you were very tiny the top of your head didn't even reach the top of his chest, he estimated you to be around four foot nine maybe four foot ten he grunted a little, he did have a thing for smaller women, he loved that he towered over average sized women but you were like his dream girl,fuck if he didn't want to fold you in half and fuck you senseless. His pants tightened at the thought, he bet you'd struggle to take him but given the chance he would find a way to impale you forcing your little body to take every punishing inch he grunted a quietly his stomach clenching. He quickly pulled his eyes away before either you would notice trying to calm his slightly ragged breaths this wasn't like him at all, he had been raised a gentleman but sitting here he felt anything but. Drawing his eyes up to yours. Incredible, he got many compliments for his eye but yours were something else, one a light brown honey colour the other was the brightest green he had ever seen, like someone had captured an emerald with in it, he swallowed dryly again becoming hot under the collar twitching in his pants as he continued to assess you. He wasn't sure what you was doing in his Mothers house but he had no complaints whatsoever.

"S-so Y/n your not from around here." his voice cracked a little as he spoke you shook your head at him a little uncomfortable as Martha pottered about the kitchen busying herself with making a fresh pot of coffee, you moved to help her but she just shook her head at you.

"No I moved here four months ago from England, your mum has been helping me get settled, America is a lot weirder than I had initially thought" you giggled a little nervously crossing your legs trying to fight off the building tension between your thighs, it wasn't every day you sat across for a delicious looking male, already picturing him as the main character in your next book with the amount of fantasies you were sure to come you'd probably have enough material for a whole series. He grit his teeth a little as his cock jumped at the melodious sound of your voice and thick southern British accent, he wouldn't admit but your voice had now become his favorite sound of all, imagining just how high he could get it if you ever gave him a chance.

"Wow that’s pretty far, and you chose Smallville why not one of the big cities?" He asked as Martha walked across the kitchen washing up some dishes in the sink, you frowned she never did that when you was here, she was up to something.

"Well Gotham didn't look to promising and I couldn't find anything in metropolis, I didn't have much time to move and when I saw the farm house I thought why not and bought it now I'm just  across the field from your mum. I might get a small place in the city at some point but right now I'm quite happy here"

"You haven't even been to metropolis yet and your already thinking of buying a place there? shouldn't you check it out first? Maybe you could show her around when she does visit Clark? Take her to see the sights she'd like that? Wouldn't you y/n?" Your jaw sort of hung open....was she trying to set you up with her son? You chuckled nervously seeing the smirk on the other woman face.

"Oh Martha he's probably busy-"

"No! No I'm not, I'm not busy at all!.....I-I mean sure I could to show you around." He interrupted you then flushed, Martha shook her head the boy wouldn't know sublty if it bit him on the ass. You blushed sipping more of your coffee.

"Well if your sure... but I need to finish my book I've already postponed the release date once, don't think the publisher will like another one" he smiled as his mother set down a cup and fresh coffee pot he refilled everyone's cups as she took a seat at the head of the table sitting back watching you both fumble around your words blushing and stuttering, there was definitely something going on here and she was a little smug and had a feeling she was going to enjoy this next bit.

"Your a writer? What do you write?" You blushed bright at his question. Oh shit.

"Haha Yeah, well I sort of write books, fiction"

"I don't think I've heard of you tho?" you looked down going beet red your pussy dampening your panties at the idea of him lying back in his bed reading one of your raunchy books.

"I use an alias so I don't get any backlash" he looked a little surprised but it wasn't uncommon even some journalists did this mostly if the do honest reviews of shops and services

"Oh so what type of fiction do you write children's books?" You flushed more at his innocence looking to Martha who was snickering quietly to herself. She was going to be no help here whatsoever.

"No..Not children's books...My stuff is more...Mature" you desperately looked to Martha eyes screaming. Help me!. poor Clark tilted his head a little not understanding why you seemed to be getting so embarrassed

"Oh for teens then?" his mother finally cracked up laughing out right at the face you pulled at him deciding to put an end to to sorry affair, it was painful to watch.

"Oh for god-She writes porn Clark! Erotica, Adult fantasies" Clark spat his coffee not ready for that at all, coughing and spluttering,you got up quickly just dodging the drink sprayed in your direction.

"MARTHA!..Oh shit are you okay big guy?" Patting to poor mans back as Martha sat there sipping her coffee smirking into her cup.

"What? Like I'm wrong? we'd be here all day if I'd let that pan out" You flushed at her words as he finally caught his breath before you sat back down and sunk in your seat mortified she just came out and said it.

"Ah okay then wow I didn't expect that....I mean you look so cute...Not that I don't think you can be sexy and cute cos you are shit I mean er what do I mean?...Its just not what I'd have thought you'd write....But there's nothing wrong with that, I imagine its quite hard NO!no not hard...Not that its easy that's not what I meant just that it would be hard-Difficult! difficult it would be difficult to write." Martha laughed out loud having the time of her life as you both flushed bright red, Clark was trying to talk himself out of his own embarrassment, you on the other hand just Blinked at him as he had a melt down so red he looked like his head was going to pop, finally taking pity on him you interrupted his babbling.

"Its okay...I get what you mean...Sometimes its... Difficult but you just you know keep at it..." Martha smiled oh yes you two definitely liked each other, now if only she could find a way to set you up together. An awkward silence fell over the kitchen as you fiddled with your cup a little and Clark trying to look anywhere but you failing miserably, she decided to have some mercy and change the subject and let you know that he was available all at once.

"So you and Lois are over for good this time?" You leaned back in your seat watching his face drop you couldn't help feel sorry for him.

"Yeah, she just kept pushing, wanting me to be someone I'm not, to play that part all the time I'm sick of it! it started got to the point I no longer had any choice, I'd do what ever for a quiet life even if it made me unhappy" Martha sighed at him she had seen this coming for a long time but had to step back and let him figure it out for himself.

"Clark I'm sorry things didn't work out I really am but she would never be satisfied until everything went her way you knew that"he nodded solemnly sighing you could tell who ever this Lois was had meant the world to him.

"I think I knew deep down she wasn't the one, I just thought if I carried on, if I stuck with it she would see how it was effecting me and change just a little for my sake. Just like I did for her you know?"

"She was never going to son, in her eyes you had become what she wanted so she didn't have to change at all but she forgot the most important thing in a relationship that's its give and take she forgot to be what you needed" Martha held his hand  he sighed looking at her nodding.

"Well this happened just over three weeks ago and she is still carrying on like we are together, like nothings changed! showing up at my apartment when she feels like it and throwing a fit when i don't let her in and is telling everyone I'm her date to this party now I'm stuck, I don't want to go with her but if I go alone then she's going corner me." he sounded exhausted and fed up and slightly bitter towards this woman and with good reason you knew how this type of thing could were on someone, you'd seen it first hand growing up.

"Party? what Party?" he waved his hand at his Mothers question

"A staff party celebrating another award and I don't want to go alone, if I do I know I will end up going back to her I really don't want to. So need to find someone else but there is no one shes still letting everyone think we're together! and none of them want to be on her bad side. I just need a woman to pretend to be my girlfriend for one night"

"Now Clark that's not fair on whoever you take, your a handsome boy and anyone you take might really like you it could crush them if they find out your using them. You can't use one women to prove a point to your ex it isnt right your father and I raised you better then that." You interrupted before she could lay into him anymore.

"I can understand what he is getting at tho, sorry to interrupt and if I'm being out of line tell me, but she sounds like my Mother, relationships are give and take, you can't just take and take and expect your other half to put up with it, Clark if you need someone to go with you to make it clear your finished with her I will go with you, no strings attached or hard feelings but women who think everything should revolve and change around them and their needs really fucks me off!! especially when they pull that shit on a sweet genuine person, in the end these women just destroy the men their with. I don't know you very well but Martha raised you so you can't be that bad and that's enough for me." You hissed some of the words it was like your parents all over again. Your mother was spoilt and selfish always demanding that your father change the way he was for her, you had watched as he had given up everything for her but it was never enough, he had to play a part and it ate away at him for years sending him into a deep depression, yet she never did anything in return or tried to help him. In the end, you at seven years old had found him trying to commit suicide. The thought of you being the one to find his body was what broke the camel's back he threw her out the next day then tried divorcing her but she wouldn't sign the papers so instead they remained separated she had nothing so you was left in your dads care, he was happier then ever but the damage had been done he never found anyone else, she hung around every few months trying to weasel her way back in missing the money more than her family, when she didn't get her way she tried to destroy any happiness he found. Luckily he had sense enough to rewrite his will and piddle away the money in the account he had left to her his final fuck you to her was when the executor of the will read out that you was left with the car, house and just over seven hundred and eighty thousand pounds the housekeeper Susanna was left the holiday home in Devon and forty thousand pounds and your mother well she got twenty nine pound sixty seven pence and was aloud to have the expensive china that the Susanna had been instructed to smash after his passing....Yeah your dad was a bastard but it was funny as fuck. That’s why you had to leave she kept coming to the house harassing you for money. The restraining order hadn't worked so you decided to move you had the means to do it so went for it, she would never find you here and couldn't use the fact shes your mother to find you because you wasn't a minor the cherry on top the account that your dad was leaving for your mother was what he used to pay for your college and university. Martha sighed knowing why you got so wound up and you was right Lois was similar to your mother.

"You'd do that? Really?" You nodded to him smiling

"Absolutely I ain't afraid of no American.... apart from your mum shes scary as fuck, but seriously I can handle anything she tries to throw at me and you can show me around town while your at it, I'm guessing its in metropolis? when is it?" Martha sat back a little stumped turns out she wont have to set you two up after all.

"Err Its this Saturday ,you sure you want to come what about your book?" you waved him off

"Its fine Clark I can bring my laptop and work on it in the hotel" he nodded grinning wide suddenly excited about this next week then faltered.

"Don't bother booking a hotel you can stay with me for the week after all your doing me a huge favor its the least I can do to repay you" he chose to ignore his mothers raised brow. She had a few guesses at exactly how he was planning to pay you back and she doubted it was just going to be bed and breakfast.... probably breakfast in bed if the looks he gave you were anything to go by, not that she minded you would be a better fit for him anyway. Call it mothers intuition but she got the feeling that Clark would be around a little more now that you were just across the field.

"Oh no I couldn't! a hotel would be fine"

"I insist I would love nothing more then to have you to myself for the week" Martha tried to bite back a laugh, she never realized how cheesy her son was trying to flirt, no wonder he didn't have much success but she could see you fall for it hook line and sinker as you flushed squirming in your seat a little, he smirked at you from across the table getting more confident, he liked to think that he had already caught you. Prick he new exactly what he was doing as he leaned back man spreading, making your walls clench.

"You could spend the week ,we can catch a train tomorrow afternoon if you like, be back in time for dinner there's a nice diner near my apartment" you nodded a little suddenly feeling like one of the women in your books flustered heart racing a mile a minute as the man of your dreams offers to take you away from the boring daily routine. The question was were you brave enough to follow through with it, hell you'd moved to the other side of the world on a snap decision, spending a week alone with a drop dead gorgeous man should be a breeze, it didn't take long to decide giving him a shy smile nodding as you had butterflies in your tummy. His face lit up

"Great I will check the train times It's Sunday service but there should still be some in the afternoon"

"Perfect! I should go and pack then I suppose,Martha if I leave a key here could you watch the house for me and feed the fish when I'm gone" she nodded quickly excited but anxious at the same time, hoping that you would hit it off with Clark but at the same time apprehensive about how fast you was going, after all you only just met, but you were both adults and could handle yourselves and she knew you'd be safe with him.

"Oh is it formal or what?"

"Oh yes, its theme is Hollywood glam"

"Oooo I've got the perfect dress, any way I'm off and will see you both tomorrow be back around eleven tomorrow morning?" he stood nodding walking you to the door making you swoon inside as he opened the door above you reminding you just how big he was, a gentle giant.

"I-I'll see you tomorrow then Clark" he leaned down to your ear whispering

"Can't wait, sweet dream's Y/n I know mine will be" you gasped as he pulled away winking chuckling at your hot cheeks, he could have a lot of fun making you blush he decided as you turned quickly scampering down the stairs away from the house towards yours, who's roof you could barely see over the crops from this distance. He stayed there leaning on the door frame arms crossed groaning watching your ass sway as you made your way into the brakes in the crops what the tractors used to get across the field disappearing into the high crops.

"So you like her then?" he jumped back bumping into the door frame making it creak a little at his mothers sudden appearance, she giggled folding the tea towel in her hands.

"Wow you must have taken a shine to her if your so mesmerized by her or more specifically her backside, that I can sneak up on you,I haven't been able to do that since you were a little boy." he chuckled embarrassed that she'd caught him staring

"Not that I think you would but Clark? don't play with her feelings okay? shes a good kid and had it tough over the past few years and she doesn't need a heart break on top of everything else" he snapped his head to his mom.

"Ma you know I wouldn't-" she fixed him with a look

"You just admitted in there that you was going to use some poor girl to make a point to Lois and I'm telling you now if you hurt her I wont be impressed"

"I wouldn't do that to her, I wont hurt her I promise, but I would like to get to know her more...see if we could you know" she smiled softly at him

"I'm just saying your a handsome man and she could fall for you easily, don't use her as a rebound." he sighed she had a point but after seeing you all thoughts of Lois died.

"I like her Ma do you-do you think maybe she could like me to? this time have a relationship with me, get to know Clark Kent before Superman? that Clark could be enough this time?" that made her pause clenching the cloth in her hands twisting it, there was something in the way he said that, so unsure and hopeless she fumed inside his confidence was knocked she felt like she was speaking to the shy beaten down preteen he once was. He truly believed that Clark Kent wasn't good enough anymore and there was only one person to blame for that,it was with those words she realized that Lois had hurt him and hurt him bad, she sighed pulling him down kissing his cheek then cupped his cheeks making him look her in the eye.

"Now you listen to me and you listen well. You are good enough and you are loved, I don't know what Lois has put into your head, and for her safety I don't think I should know, but you forget it right this instant! you hear me?" he nodded a little still unsure as Martha searched his eyes for a little glimmer of confidence but her heart clenched when she couldn't find any, that confidence from earlier must have been false bravado. Lois was lucky she wasn't going to metropolis herself she's probably kill her for hurting her baby, tho she's sure Y/n was going to rip her apart in her stead it was a pity she wouldn't be there to see it.

"I think Y/n is already smitten with you and that you'd be good for one another. I've only known her four months but She doesn't try to be anything she's not, she takes people as she sees them and doesn't have time for all the games other women play its why we get along so well. And as a side note she has never reacted like that to any one else's attempts at flirting trust me there have been quite a few try when we've been out and she shut them down....Quite brutally now that I think of it. But if your serious about her give it your all I don't think you will be disappointed I think you'd be a good match." she wiped under his eye as they welled a little with unshed tears.

"Y-you really think she could like me?" he asked in a small voice.

"There’s no doubt in my mind that she already does, you think she'd agree to spend a week with you if she didn't? Honestly if you both hadn't made plans I was going to play matchmaker myself. Now why don't you go have a cold shower? and I can start on dinner"

"Cold shower?"

"You think I haven't notice your problem?" he flushed laughing wiping at his eyes and pulling his top down a little trying to cover the tent in his pants as she walked back into the house patting his back.

"Oh shit! You think she notice to?!" his mother laughed shrugging

"Who knows I mean she was checking you out to" as she entered the kitchen he stood there dumbfounded

"What Are you sure? I didn't notice"

"You wouldn't your a man, now go have a shower you are not eating at the table like that" he groaned shaking his head closing the front door making his way up the stairs to the bathroom.

[broken-clover]

i know the whole games ost is rock, but do you have any thoughts about what kinda music the guilty gear cast listens to?

Cute concept! I would say ‘I wonder if any other music exists in-universe’ but if I remember correctly it’s canon that at least country is still a thing.

Also please know that my tastes are shit and I know nothing

-Well, you just *know* Ky’s going to be into his fancy classical/opera music, though it also wouldn’t surprise me if he also had a ‘stress relief’ record that’s just entirely screamo and death metal

-Dizzy doesn’t know much about music variety still, but she loves listening to records with Ky as a bonding activity in their free time. A bit unrelated but she also has a lot of simple little working ditties memorized from her childhood that’s prone to humming or singing while doing chores.

-The Jellyfish obviously enjoy a good sea shanty, at least on principle. May has a bright aesthetic so I could see her having a taste for this that are a little poppier

-Johnny is a jazz man, and a jazz player, but he played careless whisper too many times so someone threw his saxophone over the bannister while they were flying over the Pacific

-I got an ask way back when about Sin liking classical partly out of defiance for Sol and ngl I’m still hooked on it. And at this point I 100% believe he’s fucking sick of Queen just because Sol has been making him listen to it nonstop for four or so years while preaching about how it’s the best music. A general rule of thumb is that he’ll find just about anything at least enjoyable as long as it isn’t Queen music. Sin’s also fascinated in music as a form of storytelling

-(time for me to be cringe on main again but) Bedman likes classical and whatever electronic-adjacent music they have in the future, not because he’s pretentious (ok maybe a little) but because it’s nice to stim to. He’ll just sit and flap whenever something he likes is on

-Faust Kiznavier Elevator Disco

-Zappa generally likes keeping his music upbeat for motivation but if he so much as hears a swear word he cringes because he can feel his mother’s disappointment radiating all the way from Australia.

-Potemkin, as always, has god-tier taste, it’s all generally laid back, he has separate playlists for paperwork and for painting. He’s got enough going on that he just needs some feel-good music

-Elphelt *wants* to love every cutesy lovesong in existence, and she mostly does, but she also has a massive soft spot for power ballads, which she will karaoke to as a form of stress relief and immediately panic if anyone walks in on her. 

-Answer isn’t especially picky when it comes to music, but he likes listening to the chorus of croaking frogs outside his tent to fall asleep at night

-I would make a joke about Chipp and Naruto songs but actually I unironically think he’d find Japanese music fascinating in terms of what makes it culturally unique, and he’d try to construct his own shamisen to play songs he learned on. It’s...not going all that great, but he’s very enthusiastic!

-Jam plays the last existing copy of Dolly Parton’s ‘Nine to Five’ on loop to psyche herself up in the morning every day before work

-Raven doesn’t care what other people play around him just as long as it’s loud enough to literally destroy his ears.

-Axl is probably at least a bit of an 80′s rock snob like Sol is, but considering his time travel it’s fun to imagine he has the most eclectic tastes ever. And I don’t just mean music across decades. He once heard a lute song in a German bar sometime in the mid 900′s and it’s been stuck in his head for months. Also he memorizes Weird Al Yankovich covers of Queen sings just so he can troll Sol with them

-Ram wasn’t expecting to like music, but Sin keeps introducing her to new genres and she loves them all! Music makes her really happy since it can convey all different kinds of emotion and it’s a new experience! Only downside is that she will absolute sing songs under her breath, so if a song’s stuck in her head, it’s only a matter of time before it’s stuck in everyone else’s too.

[nightttdreamers]

Inhale, Exhale (IwaOi one-shot)

hi its been a rlly long time since i’ve written fics but its finals week and i need a distraction.

enjoy a cheesy, cute (maybe a pinch angsty) iwaoi one-shot involving late night first kisses and !!!DRUG USE!!! weed to be exact

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27832924 check it out on ao3 if you wanna idk maybe

anyway

Inhale, Exhale | 1/1 | 3325 words

He’s becoming too acquainted with his ceiling.

It’s god-knows-what-o’clock, the last time he checked it was nearing midnight. The boy couldn’t bring himself to turn over and check again, partly for fear of the results, and partly for fear of losing the on-going staring contest he’s having. Oikawa blinks, and he swears the ceiling blinks back.

There’s an uneasy stillness around his room, he feels like he’s disrupting it. He should be sleeping, he’s never felt more exhausted, but some part of his brain just won’t shut off. He clenches his fists, then releases, flexes his toes and releases, pushes his shoulders back, then releases, trying to relieve some of the restlessness he feels. It doesn’t work, only furthers his urge to move, twist around, do anything but lie there and watch his ceiling.

He closes his eyes, too forcefully, trying to conjure up images of sheep or the ocean, something to lull him. All he sees is the ball, that flash of blue and yellow, dancing across his fingers, escaping his grip, plummeting to the floor, too close to the white line, it’s out of his control now it’s-

Out! Signals the whistle of the referee. Oikawa jolts upright. 

He has to move, every part of him is twitching. His hands are in his lap, clench, release, clench, release, grip the comforter until your knuckles turn white. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t get the game off of his mind. His teammates tried to encourage him, coach had to step in to talk to him because he probably doesn’t trust you anymore, his opponents had those smug looks, even Iwaizumi didn’t know what to say.

Iwaizumi. He didn’t speak to Oikawa after the game, he was too exhausted from picking up his slack. He didn’t even have his usual “you-fucked-up” scowl on, he just looked disappointed.

Oikawa gets out of bed, fumbling a bit as he slides on his pajama pants, grabs a t-shirt. He has to know where he went wrong, what he needs to do, how he can never make those mistakes again. He uses the back door, having gone through this routine enough times to know his parents wouldn’t hear him. It’s cold, but Oikawa is so wired the chill barely affects him. Every set, every call, every spike is running over and over again in his mind as he hurries down the street, route memorized.

Iwaizumi’s window is already open.

Oikawa barely has a moment to question that before he’s knocking against the open glass, poking his head inside. “Iwa?”

The boy in question jumps like he’s going for a spike, nearly falling out of his desk chair. “Fuck, Oikawa, you scared the shit out of me.” That permanent scowl is back, but not as strong, he looks tired.

“Good, you’re awake,” Oikawa replies as he climbs into the other’s room. “It smells in here,” he remarks, mostly to himself.

“It's probably just you stinking it up, does your phone not work or something?” Iwaizumi asks, closing out of whatever he was watching on his computer before fully turning to the other.

“I knocked. How long have I known you? You should be used to this,” Oikawa remarks, rushing through his words a bit.

Iwaizumi sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re lucky no one’s home, what do you want?”

“I, um, couldn’t sleep,” Oikawa says, taking a seat on the other's bed. “Okay, it’s not me, it seriously smells in here, what-”

The two boys lock eyes, exchanging bewildered expressions. Then, realization.

“Were you-?”

“Oikawa, wait-”

“Oh my god, you were!”

“No ones home-”

“And you tried to blame it on me?”

“It’s a friday night-”

“Iwa, you were smoking.”

Even in the dim light of the room, Oikawa can see the red flush to his friend’s cheeks, no matter how hard he tries to cover it. It’s quiet for some time, enough for Oikawa to piece together everything, his panic, the window open, that dazed look in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi finally concedes, exhaling the word. “Today was stressful, okay? I just wanted to take a break.”

Oikawa tenses. He was the reason today was stressful, him and his performance during their game. “I’m sorry-”

“Do you-” Iwaizumi starts at the same time as him. The two share a little laugh, breaking down the strange tension that was building up. “Um, do you… want some?”

Every anti-drug assembly and health class he’s ever seen play through his head. Weed makes you lethargic, slows you down, makes you lazy, everything Oikawa didn’t want to be. But, Iwa’s using it. Responsible Iwa who hits the back of his head every time Oikawa’s not taking care of himself properly. Iwa who’s avoiding his gaze awkwardly, like he’s guilty of something. Today was stressful, he had said. Without a word, Oikawa nods.

Iwaizumi reaches into a drawer in his desk, pulling out a lighter, a small brown piece of paper, and some cylindrical device. “Gimme a sec,” he says, getting to work.

Oikawa remains on the bed, legs crossed under him, fingers drumming on his knee. There’s still tension in his chest, he hasn’t forgotten why he’s awake right now in the first place. But, he keeps his focus on Iwaizumi’s hands, noticing the slight hesitancy in his movements. He can read the other’s body language like a book at this point. “How many times have you done this?”

“Just a few,” Iwaizumi responds, beginning to pack the fragrant bud into the center of the paper. “Mattsun showed me how,” he says, anticipating Oikawa’s next question.

Oikawa nods, a small smile crossing his lips at the image of Mattsun showing Iwaizumi how to roll, probably all proud of himself for knowing more than the other for once. The smile fades as he recalls Mattsun’s words from earlier, “What is wrong with you today?” He probably didn’t mean it like that, but it stung.

“You’ve never before, right?” Iwaizumi asks, glancing up at his friend, breaking his train of thought.

“Don’t you think I would’ve told you if I did?” Oikawa replies, only realizing the irony in his lighthearted response afterward. It’s not lost on Iwaizumi, who only replies with a short nod. His attention is turned back to the slowly forming joint. He holds it up, tongue dashing over the edge of the paper before he continues to roll. Oikawa feels like he should’ve looked away for that part.

“Okay, window,” Iwaizumi finally announces, crossing the room. Oikawa follows behind him, hands still fidgeting. The sight of Iwaizumi holding the joint to his lips, brows knit slightly, eyes cast downward as he sparks up his lighter, it’s captivating. He turns towards the window, exhaling a puff of smoke with a light sigh. Then, he holds it out to Oikawa.

Gingerly, the setter takes it, just staring for a second, then looking back up at Iwaizumi.

The other understands his silent plea for help, leaning forward a bit as he speaks. “Take a breath before, relax, just inhale, hold it, exhale. Not too much, okay?”

Oikawa’s still hesitant, taking a deep breath in. Why was his heart pounding so much? What if he didn’t like the effects? What is he even doing here? And why is Iwaizumi staring at him like that?

“Hey,” Iwa’s hand comes to rest on his wrist, keeping him steady as he relights the joint. He must have been staring at it long enough for it to go out. “You don’t have to, Oikawa. It’s not a big deal.”

“No, I want to,” Oikawa says. He holds the joint to his lips, he wants to relax, get his mind off of today, he wants to know how Iwaizumi feels right now, to be in the same space as him.

For some reason.

On his exhale, Oikawa coughs, feeling a sting in the back of his throat, a new pit forming in his chest. Iwaizumi can’t help but laugh, handing him a bottle of water he’d already had by the window. “Not so deep, breath with your chest, slowly.” It reminds him of how Iwaizumi would help him calm down before a game, though much less demanding now.

After drinking some water, he tries again, taking his friend’s advice. It’s better this time, he still coughs, just not as much. Iwaizumi takes it back for a drag and Oikawa feels a pang when he sees how easy it is for him. The two sit like that in silence for some time, passing it back and forth with unspoken rhythm.

“I think that’s enough for you,” Iwaizumi says, leaving the joint to sit on his windowsill, still about half left. He gets up with a little stretch, going back to sit on his bed, lean against the wall. Oikawa, who was just starting to get comfortable with the joint, follows suit. He sits at the foot of the bed, trying to relax. He’s waiting for it, whatever “it” is supposed to feel like, he just knows he’s waiting.

“You wanna tell me why you really came over?” Iwaizumi asks, breaking a strange, heavy silence in the room.

“I couldn’t-”

“I know you couldn’t sleep. Now tell me why,” he demands now, head tilted to the side expectantly.

Oikawa takes a breath, still feeling that sting from coughing so much. “We almost lost today.”

“I know, I was there.”

Oikawa shoots him a little glare before continuing. “It’s my fault.” He waits again, waits for Iwaizumi to tell him he’s wrong, that everyone has bad days, that he shouldn’t be so hard on himself, like he always does. Instead, he’s met with those piercing eyes again, he’s never felt so looked at before. “I don’t know what went wrong. I was feeling weird going into it, I messed up my first serve, it threw me off. And the other team knew it, I can tell what they’re thinking. ‘The great king’s off his game, this is our chance!’ It’s so smug I can’t stand it. It just felt like nothing was working, I was moving too slow, I couldn’t even control it. And everyone knew. They knew something was wrong with me and I was just messing the game up for everyone. Mattsun asked what was wrong with me, I couldn’t even respond.”

Oikawa stops, un-clenches his fists, looks back to Iwaizumi. It’s different now, he can’t put his finger on it. He just feels lighter, the room feels light, everything’s twisting but still at the same time. “How long was I just talking for?” He asks, the weight of his words still present. His mouth is dry.

Iwaizumi can’t help but crack a smile, lifting a hand up to cover his mouth. “Not as long as you think,” is his reply. “How do you feel?”

“I don’t know,” Oikawa says, shifting to face the other now and wow his bed is soft. Iwaizumi notices his reaction, handing him a pillow to lean on. “Fuzzy.”

Iwaizumi chuckles this time, Oikawa smiles and he doesn’t know why. “I mean, now that you got all that off your chest.”

“Oh,” Oikawa hums. Everything before this exact moment feels like it was so long ago, his vent, laying in his bed. He’s here right now, with Iwa, that’s all he needs to be. “Better, I think.”

“Good, because I never wanna hear some bullshit like that again,” Iwaizumi responds, going back to his usual tone. Oikawa quirks a brow, didn’t he just ask him to talk about how he felt? “You had a shitty game. Sure, it was a really shitty game-”

“That’s hurtful-”

“But it’s over now. We won, you’re not always going to be the reason why. Everyone on our team trusts you for a reason. We’ve seen you play like it’s a death match, one bad game isn’t going to ruin everyone’s faith in you. I’ve seen you at your worst and your best, and I admire both of those.”

Oikawa sits up a bit, propped up on his arm. “Why would you admire my worst?”

“I dunno, that’s when you’re the most driven.”

Of course, Iwaizumi likes watching him push himself. Oikawa wonders if he knows that he’s the reason why. “Why did you say anything to me after the game today?” He asks, once more sitting upright. The question just spills out of him, he didn’t even realize it was bothering him that much. Even Iwaizumi looks startled by it, leaning back as Oikawa draws near.

“I don’t like seeing you like that,” he mumbles, looking off at nothing in particular. “When you beat yourself up. I knew you were angrier at yourself than anyone in that gym, nothing I could’ve said would’ve helped.”

Oikawa snorts back a laugh, pressing the back of his hand to his lips. “Iwa, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you cared about me.”

This earns him a punch on the arm. “Oh shut up, Shittykawa, I just don’t want you moping around on the court.”

Oikawa rubs his arm, laughing. Then, he whispers, “Holy shit.”

“What?” Iwaizumi asks, leaning forward a bit with an expression of concern.

“Nothing, nothing,” he replies, shaking his head. “I just feel it.”

There’s that infectious laugh again, how long has it been since they goofed like this? How long have they been goofing off for? The boys laugh until they forget what was so funny, then crack up all over again the moment they make eye contact once more.

“Hang on, hang on,” Iwaizumi grabs his phone off his nightstand, flipping through his music. Oikawa looks on, his head pressing against the top of the other’s as he scrolls. Finally, music fills the room, playing from Iwaizumi’s speaker. It’s something Oikawa doesn’t recognize, Western maybe, that acoustic type of rock that Iwa’s always listening to. Normally, he’d complain about the choice, he’s always hated on Iwa’s music just to piss him off. But, it sounds different now.

“Make it louder,” he asks, finally pulling away from his friend. Iwaizumi complies and Oikawa leans back against the wall, taking a breath. The bass is vibrating through the whole room, through him, and Oikawa thinks this might be the prettiest song he’s ever heard, despite the slight grit to it.

“No complaints?” Iwaizumi asks, the question genuine.

“You speaking is ruining it,” Oikawa says, shooting him a playful glare. Iwaizumi rolls his eyes in response. “Is this just what you do? Smoke and listen to music?”

“I mean, for the few times I’ve smoked, yeah this is kind of it,” he replies, scrolling through his phone to queue up more songs. “Why? You bored?”

Oikawa shakes his head. “No, no, I’m just asking.”

With a light shrug, Iwaizumi gets off the bed, heading back to the window. Oikawa gives him a questioning gaze. “I just want a little more, had to make sure your ass was okay first.”

“I’ll have you know my ass isn’t okay, it’s perfect,” Oikawa says with a snarky grin. He joins his friend by the window, the two sitting on the floor, backs to the wall.

“That’s a load of crap,” Iwaizumi snorts, grabbing the joint and his lighter. Once again, Oikawa finds himself staring as his friend holds the joint between his lips, sparking up. The flame, as brief as it flashes, looks so pretty reflecting in his eyes. He takes a puff, leaning his head back as he exhales, closing his eyes. Oikawa smiles.

“You used to give me shit for staying out past curfew,” he says, turning slightly to face the other.

“And?” Iwaizumi replies, quirking a brow.

“And now you do this,” Oikawa says, gesturing to the fading cloud of smoke.

“I don’t ‘do’ anything, I’m just messing around. What, are you judging me?”

Oikawa shakes his head quickly. “No, no, I mean, I joined you. I’m just thinking about how weird it is that I’m here.”

“You break into my house at least once a week, it’s not that weird.”

Oikawa sighs, once more shaking his head. “No, I mean that I’m here with you.” The two look at each other, mutual expressions of surprise. “Not like that- shit, I don’t even know what I’m trying to say. I just, I’ve known you forever and you still surprise me sometimes.”

Iwaizumi has a faint smile on his lips, eyes half-lidded as he raises his brows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Once again, the truth is just spilling out of him, he can’t even keep track of what he’s saying, he’s losing his own train of thought despite how it continues on. “I didn’t know you admire me.”

Iwaizumi’s smile fades, he looks off again, the same expression he had on earlier. “Of course I do, who wouldn’t?”

“A lot of people,” Oikawa scoffs. “You want me to list them?”

“They don’t see you like I do. If any of them knew you, really knew you, they’d feel the same way.” Iwaizumi has to light it again, the joint dancing between his fingers as he gesticulates.

“Iwa,” is all he can get out, not expecting a response like that. Say something back, say something now- “You know you’re one of the reasons why.”

“Why what?”

“Why I couldn’t fall asleep. You didn’t say anything to me after the game, I thought you were really pissed,” Oikawa shrinks, he didn’t mean to bring the game back up.

“That keeps you up at night?”

Wordlessly, he nods. There’s nothing else to be said about it, Iwaizumi seems to understand the feelings he can’t quite articulate. To stop himself from continuing on, Oikawa asks, “Can I get another hit?”

Iwaizumi just smirks, shaking his head. “I think you may have had enough.”

“Don’t be such a mom, come on,” Oikawa says, a slight whine to his voice.

“Don’t call me that,” Iwa replies, letting out a breath. “Open your mouth, inhale in a second.”

Oikawa’s expression questions him enough. Iwaizumi takes another hit, bigger this time, then leans in close. His senses are flooded, the heat of the other’s face so close, warming up his cheeks, warming up his face, he smells smoke and body wash, today’s leftover cologne. Iwaizumi’s eyes are focused again, looking down to Oikawa’s lips, parted open. He blows smoke inside. “Inhale.”

Oikawa does, sucking in the smoke like it’ll somehow keep Iwaizumi this close to him. He holds it, watching as the other pulls back tentatively. Then, he exhales, letting the cloud lazily drift between them. 

Iwaizumi’s lips curve into a smile, and then they’re pressed against Oikawa’s.

The kiss feels right in every sense of the word. Like two puzzle pieces finally snapping into place. The two can listen to each other without speaking, the same silent communication they have during a game. Oikawa parts his lips, Iwaizumi tilts his head, Oikawa turns his body, Iwaizumi presses a hand on either side of him. They kiss like it’s the first time they’ve ever seen each other, like they’re putting everything on the line, like they’ve been waiting for this their whole lives. Oikawa releases every little piece of built-up tension in his body, it feels like he’s letting out a breath he’s been holding his whole life. Iwaizumi, Iwaziumi who is all sharp edges and quick retorts, feels like a breath of fresh air. They’ve spent enough time together to read every movement, Oikawa knows exactly how he’s checking is this okay and more, just with his lips. He can tell when Iwaizumi is ready to stop, the two boys pulling back in unison.

They share the same face, cheeks flushed, blinking rapidly, unable to break eye contact. Oikawa feels fuzzy and tingly and electric. Iwaizumi hovers over him, chest rising and falling quickly.

The boys laugh, falling into each other because how did this take so long?

When they kiss again, Oikawa makes sure to properly admire everything about his best friend.

[unholyhelbig]

Bechloe greek gods au?

[a/n: Long time no see guys, I swear I have so many prompts in my inbox, I’ll get around to them soon. This is rocky because I haven’t written them in a bit. Enjoy!]

She didn’t remember getting hit with an arrow; not the way it pushed into her skin evenly and produced an even bout of pain. It was more of an annoyance, really, like a mosquito who had barely tapped a vein before she swatted it away- smearing the brown and bubbling guts on the wall.

Her room was hot that day, and even with the fan pointed directly at the bare mattress that rested on the floor, she was washed with discomfort.  Beca had kicked the sheets that usually covered her away- and hadn’t even noticed the soaked fabric was ruined with anything but her own sweat.

But by the time the alarm on her phone started going off, she knew something was wrong; the loud clang of something metal and weighted falling from her bed did nothing but confirm that the thickness of the room wasn’t her imagination.

Her downstairs neighbor pushed the blunt end of a broom against their ceiling in response to the clatter and Beca figured that that served as enough of a wakeup call. It was already past noon- she could tell by the lattice design of the sun streaming through her blinds.

Beca reached blindly until her fingers wrapped around the cold shaft of metal that had so rudely pulled her from her slumber. She moved her thumb against it- not a phone, not a pair of expensive headphones. No- it was an arrow.

From where- she wasn’t sure. There was no broken glass in her apartment, no more than usual. And she would have noticed, even in a drunken slumber, if one had come crashing through the window. She lived on the fifth floor of a shitty city building.

She sat up and groaned at the pinching on the back of her thigh, the way it burned and pulsed with her own heart. The arrow was plated and gold and heavier than she thought it would be. There was an expertly crafted heart on one end, the shaft cutting right through it. Its point was coated in a rust-colored liquid.

Too weird- she decided, too early for this.

She had a lot to drink last night and probably pulled this from one of the stupid holiday displays that they had laying around the city for some agro art project. That’s what she gets, she supposed, for picking a place to live on the same block as a prestigious art school.

Beca stood and limped to the dining room, setting the bloodied arrow down on the table before grasping at the nearest cup that looked somewhat clean. She didn’t wait for the sink water to chill before gulping down a full glass and going for a second one. The warm liquid soaked into the collar of her shirt.

She hadn’t noticed it at first, not clouded by her own thirst, but she had set the arrow down next to a small card. Something that would be left in a bouquet of roses, but bigger. It created a little tent and cast a shadow next to the gold. She plucked it from the table.

Beca,

I struggle not to speak in riddles, as I’m sure you don’t remember much from last night. But the two of us had quite the boasting match. Turns out I, in fact, can drink you under the table. So- as a consolation prize for your good efforts, I’ve left you something of mine.

She frowned. It was well written in a curled type of script that would take anyone a number of hours. Her head was screaming at her and her leg was hissing. Beca remembers finishing up a set and taking whatever free drinks the patrons thought to buy her. And a woman, glowering at her across the bar.  She flipped the card over, looking for more fine print.

This arrow has the effect of undying love, something you mumbled about never being able to find. This should help to a certain extent- but be forewarned; a similar arrow built of lead was left in the possession of another. Find that arrow, find your love. Cure them.

All the best,

C.

Oh… oh, this had to be absolute bullshit. There was no way some stranger that was lingering in the darkest and dankest bar in Manhattan had followed her to her apartment and stabbed her. People didn’t just do that. They didn’t’ leave cryptic notes or gold-plated arrows because someone like Beca Mitchell had half the mind to pawn it off.

Who was C?

She flopped down in the nearest chair, letting the arrow fall to the ground once more. It clattered, even on the carpet- and as if on cue, her downstairs neighbor pushed the broom against the ceiling- as if that would stop Beca’s hangover, or her struggle to piece together missing time.

“Oh, shut up!” she shouted back, pushing her heel into the floor.

She usually never fought back. There was never a reason to. Beca carried late and odd hours, and she often found herself treading lightly- even if she was a bit buzzed. But right now the pulsing in her thigh and the blurred intentions of the letter ate away at any resolve she hoped to carry. So she stomped three times and palmed the arrow.

Her neighbor slammed the top of the broom in response and Beca let out a groan before standing, ignoring the sharp pain in her leg. She pulled open the door and registered the musty scent that the hallway carried.

Beca’s steps were muffled in her socked feet, even as she trudged past the elevator with the “Out of Order” Sign that was tacked on the metal front. The cement floor of the stairwell was cold and unforgiving against her soles. She didn’t stop until she found the exact puke-green door that she was looking for. Beca even knocked before she lost a bit of her nerve.  

Then the door swung open and the crisp scent of vanilla cut through her own rancid mix of sweat and lingering whiskey. A girl stood in front of her, blonde hair pulled into a tight bun and a fancy blouse hugging her curves. She had a fire in her eyes- but Beca had an arrow, and that was enough for her.

“I’m guessing you’re our upstairs neighbor considering your heavy-handed knock?”

God, who talks like that? “Spot on, sweetie. You pulled the stick out of your ass long enough to bang it against the ceiling, huh?”

The woman huffed and pulled the door open even more. Not allowing an entrance or even offering. She put more room between the two of them, taller and meaner. “Look, just keep it down, alright? You clamoring home at two in the morning is annoying enough. I don’t need mid-afternoon too.”

“I pay rent too, you know, I can stomp around as much as I like. Not everyone keeps a normal schedule.”

She found herself using the tip of the golden arrow as a buffer, it’s point still rusted in crimson. The stranger flicked her unripe stare against it and straightened up, fingers tightening against the doorframe.

“Where’d you get that?”

“I found it, “Beca frowned “listen, that’s not the point. I will start trying to be quieter if you just stop banging the ceiling-“  

“No, seriously, where did you find this?”

She was being ignored entirely, the woman plucked the arrow from her fingers and walked into her apartment, leaving the door wide open. Beca sighed heavily and followed her in with her slight limp. If she was going to be murdered, at least it would be in her own apartment building, anything to reason her actions.

It was nicer here; with soft lavender curtains and pictures hanging on the wall. Beca had gotten all of her furniture from thrift shops and friends cleaning out storage units. It was like a home goods catalog, everything smelling sweet and more importantly, clean. She was suddenly nervous to track blood on the carpet.

“Chloe!” The woman shouted, voice echoing off the hallway, she turned her back to Beca, running her fingers over the metal “This was just in your apartment?”

“Sort of, I guess. It was in my leg. I pulled it out right before you started drumming on the walls.”

She nodded and went back to studying the object, not offering up any answers. But Beca didn’t’ have much focus on her anymore; instead, she was drawn inexplicably to the woman who must be Chloe. She walked with a certain grace about her- hair messy and curled like fire. Her eyes were a striking ocean blue and every inch of her sparked like broken waves.

The girl held a towel to her arm, soaked in red and dripping. She had scrubbed most of the blood away but held pressure against her wound before stopping and scrutinizing Beca. Her nose crinkled. “Who’s this?”

“What’s your name?” The blonde asked.

“Aubrey, you invited a stranger into the apartment?” Chloe glared “She’s dirty.”

She snorted “Hi, hello, right here. If I can just get my arrow back you gracious goddess, I’ll get out of your hair.”

What the fuck was that?  

“Gross.” There was a round of silence, Chloe was staring at the carpet and Aubrey was tempted to do what Beca had asked. But none of them moved, not for a bit. Chloe was the first to speak. “Your arrow?”

“Not mine technically. But it lodged itself into my thigh this morning so I think that gives me some jurisdiction over it- now, if you’ll excuse me I have to go to an urgent care.”

“No, don’t go.” Chloe clenched her jaw, and the words seemed to settle in Beca’s stomach like a rock “I got one too. It’s not gold, not like that- but it’s black.”

“It’s lead.” Aubrey corrected. “Do either of you know what that means?”

Beca’s head was pounding and she wasn’t sure if it was from the sickeningly sweet scent of the apartment or the way her heart beat faster against her throat each time Chloe moved. The sun seemed to hit her in the right way and a deafening lightness filled her at each glance. She wanted to run her fingers against her skin, feel lips against her own and, she sighed heavily “You’re so pretty,”

“Focus, please.” Aubrey snapped “I had to take a class on Greek Mythology last semester. I remember this specific story about Daphne and Apollo. Cupid shot them both with arrows after a pissing match with Apollo, and one gained the overwhelming sense of love while the other”

Aubrey trailed off and furrowed her brow.

“The other what, Bree?”

“The other grew to hate the idea of it altogether.”

“That explains why the sight of this… this girl makes me want to claw my own eyes out.” Chloe’s breath was unsteady, but still, she smelled of lemons, and her lips pursed in the perfect way.

“That’s okay, my love, I would still die for you.” Beca pressed her fingers against her lips and let out a muffled growl in frustration. “Okay, that needs to stop, now. Unless that’s not what you want Chloe-“

Chloe groaned, “Any chance you remember how to fix it?”

“I got a note, with the arrow.”

“You didn’t think to mention that sooner?”

“I was a little blind-sided by how stunning you are, forgive me.” Beca wanted to bite her tongue until it bleed. But instead, she searched her hazy mind for what the letter said. It rested on her kitchen table and she didn’t think she could get up there with the amount of pain pushing past her knee and ending at the gash in her thigh. “it said I have to cure you.”

Aubrey’s eyes widened “Chloe, I think she has to stab you with her arrow. Theoretically, that would reverse the amount of disdain in you. It would balance it out.”

“And the amount of infatuation in her?”

“I suppose it could work both ways.”

The thought of diving the metal-tipped arrow into Chloe made her sick to her stomach.  A rolling that started at the back of her neck and culminated in nausea, so thick and strong it felt as if she had been drugged. She essentially had been. One small part of Beca remembers the way she challenged the woman at the bar to a drinking competition, high on her own ego.

She would never bow to a challenge, never lose without losing herself first. But this arrow; its effects would let her kneel in front of this perfect stranger without a second thought. There was no way she could bring her shaky fingers to wrap around the shaft of the arrow, only to push it into the woman’s skin.  

There was a sudden blinding pain against her shoulder, a white-hot metal. “OW! Fuck!”

Beca grasped at the warmth, fingers coated with liquid as she stared at the black arrow in the better part of her shoulder, she hadn’t noticed Chloe grab the lead object. “Dude, what the hell?” She yanked it away, grunting because it somehow hurt worse on the way out.

“What? No sly comment about my insatiable beauty?” Chloe smiled, and though it was charming, it didn’t make her heart stop. In fact, part of her found it more annoying than interesting and keen.

Beca hissed through clenched teeth “Give me the arrow.”

And Aubrey obliged. Somehow it felt heavier in her grasp. Beca had half the mind to go for the shoulder too, but the way Chloe was nursing her other arm made her reconsider. She let out a small breath and slid the pointed end of the object into the side of her leg, right near her hip, hesitating a bit.

“Mother of God,” Chloe’s voice shook, “How did neither of us notice that the first time?”

Beca could blame the alcohol and the way she was knocked out cold after her display at a local bar. But she decided to keep that to herself. She mercifully removed the object and set it on the counter next to the other arrow.  

Aubrey lifted both eyebrows “How do you feel?”

“Like I’m losing a lot of blood.” She swallowed thickly, “And not like I want to shove the arrow somewhere completely different.”

Beca winced “Oh, ouch.”

The blonde reached around the other end of the counter and produced a pair of keys, just as perfectly organized as the rest of her, a look of annoyance and relief against her features. “I think we should get you both to a hospital. And then we bury those things forever, agreed?”

That seemed like the only thing that made sense all day.